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florwons · 9 months

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‧₊˚ ⋅ hurt — nishimura riki ‧ ˚₊‧

synopsis you hated niki. he hated you. despite your ongoing rivalry, your recent arm injury seems to have had an unexpected effect on your so-called enemy. rather than making fun of your injury, he's shown a surprising twist of kindness by wanting to draw on your cast instead.

pairing rival!niki x fem!reader genre fluff, e2ls, hs au !

warnings profanity, injury, just niki and reader being a bickering mess !! typical rival things

featuring danielle newjeans jungwon enhypen wc 2303 !

note first enha work !! first time on blr and i think i’m getting a hang of it.. took too much time figuring out everything though 😵‍💫. i guess this happens when you’re bored (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) anyhow, i just think niki fits e2ls !! also i think he fits this cute idea i was thinking about so why not combine the two ?? might also create a part 2 to this !!

— wanna read part 2 ? coming soon!

"Wow, two whole months for it to heal? I’m sure it hurt, didn’t it?" Danielle exclaimed, her expression filled with shock as she glanced from your cast to your face. The two of you were seated next to each other during your first period, giving her a chance to closely examine your injury.

"Yeah," you replied with a touch of sarcasm, a sigh escaping your lips as you gazed at the plain, white cast encasing your arm. "Just the sort of thing that can happen when you take up a part-time job at a convenience store. But, my doctor assured me it's not too serious, so this arm should be back to its usual self soon!" You lightly tapped your arm with your free hand, showing her that you’re completely fine.

"Well, it's still frustrating to have to let it heal for that long," she pouted, receiving a light chuckle from you. Extending your uninjured arm, you gently held her hand, offering her a soft smile. "Don't worry, Danielle. Two months will fly by."

You were truly grateful for a friend like Danielle, who consistently showed concern for your well-being. It made you wonder why your life couldn't be filled with people like her instead of people like him. But no, the universe had different plans and had given you Niki, your classmate, or rather your enemy.

This rivalry with Niki had its roots all the way back to elementary school, and due to both of your stubbornness, it had been brought into your high school years. Poor Danielle found herself caught in this mess, being friends with both of you. You did feel bad for involving her, but the blame fell largely on Niki, who seemed to exist solely to get under your skin.

"Does... you-know-who... know about your injury? You guys walk to and from here together," Danielle hesitated, bringing up him in the conversation cautiously. You shook your head and replied, "No, not as far as I know. I actually left a bit early today—oh no."

Your hand instinctively moved to your forehead, the beginnings of a headache forming from the thought. Danielle let out a small gasp, concern evident in her expression. "What's wrong, YN? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine—wait, no, I'm not!"

"Why? What's the matter?"

"It's Niki! I just remembered that he's probably going to make fun of my injury for the entire two months." You slumped in your chair, already envisioning the scenarios in your mind. "That asshole."

“You actually got me worried!”

"Sorry, but this is something you should be worried about! Niki's constant teasing might be the end of me!"

"YN, you'll handle it. You both argue every day, anyway," Danielle said with a dismissive tone, not fully grasping how serious the issue felt to you. After all, Niki having another reason to mock you during class was far from trivial.

You sighed, realizing that you really wished for your arm to heal as quickly as possible.

In what seemed like no time at all, the second period arrived—a bit faster than usual. You hurried into the classroom, aiming to get into your seat promptly. But there was no use of that if he’s your seatmate! Just why couldn’t it be Danielle? You silently cursed your teacher for arranging the seating this way. More people started filling the classroom, and Niki’s unmistakable blonde hair caught your attention — he was walking your way.

His gaze fixed strangely on your arm as you withdrew it from the desk, letting it hang at your side. You deliberately avoided meeting his eyes, unwilling to deal with his presence at the moment. The scrape of his chair against the floor caught your ear, prompting you to take a deep breath. "Already pissed?" His voice carried a teasing tone, and you could practically feel the smirk in his words, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Aw, you got my routine down already?” You scoffed, placing your notebook on your desk. You were determined to shut out his annoying voice, but of course, life had other plans. "Seems like it. Just call it the Niki effect, I guess."

"Yeah, a real heartwarming effect," you replied monotonously, your attention shifting to the front of the classroom. In the corner of your eye, you could see him take out a notebook as well. You silently hoped he'd simply focus on his work and not pay attention to you, though it seemed he had different intentions.

“What’s up with your arm?” he points at your injured arm with his pencil. Now that made you wish you could snap that pencil in half. Nonetheless, you managed to maintain your composure, or at least tried to, as you responded calmly. "Oh, you know, just your typical arm-breaking experience. Nothing major—just a cozy two-month wait for it to return to normal."

"I didn't need a breakdown of your recovery process, but I suppose thank you for letting me know,” Niki remarked, adjusting his seat position. "Wouldn't expect any less from someone like you."

Holding onto your pencil, the pressure of it snapped its lead, and you clenched your teeth in frustration. "Do you ever know when to just keep your mouth shut?" you retorted, your tone edged with irritation.

"It's one of my finer qualities—maybe you should catch up," he shot back, a hint of amusement evident in his voice.

"Sure thing. Just do me a favor and stay quiet for two months, will you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "And what's in it for me?"

"Me sparing you from my rude remarks—just not like what you're doing right now."

“Can’t make any promises,” He dragged the last word, making you sigh. He smiled slightly, knowing he knew exactly how to piss you off.

The bell rang, and relief washed over you like a wave. Hastily gathering your belongings, you were so focused on getting out of the classroom that you failed to notice Niki's gaze on you. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you headed toward Danielle. Unknown to you, Niki's attention lingered, a subconscious concern for your well-being flickering in his mind.

"Niki? Niki!" Jungwon tapped him on the shoulder, causing Niki to start slightly. Wait, what was he doing just now? Before he could analyze his actions, Jungwon pulled him from his thoughts. "You seemed out of it for a bit. Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, I spaced out for a second. Let's not miss our third period, alright?" Niki hurriedly packed his things, walking alongside Jungwon, his earlier behavior still puzzling him.

Niki's earlier slip-up had him lost in thought, and it continued especially during P.E. class. His eyes were drawn to you, sitting on the bleachers with a bored expression, casually observing the movement of the others. Then, unexpectedly, you excused yourself and headed toward the nurse's office. Niki found himself continuing to watch you, his focus on you more than anything else around.

"Hey, Niki!" A familiar voice brought his attention away from you, just in time to see a ball hurtling his way. He attempted to react, but the ball had already hit his arm. Wincing, he gripped his arm, a small crowd forming around him. Mr. Kim scolded him, and Niki nodded in acknowledgment—it was his fault for not paying attention.

“Take this pass and go get an ice pack,” Mr. Kim said, already finishing up the pass for him. At first, he contemplated declining, but then he remembered that you were in the nurse's office.

This was the fastest he ever grabbed a pass. His movements were swift as he exited the gym and quickly navigated the route to the nurse's office, hoping he could arrive before you left.

He knocked on the door, and a soft voice invited him in. Stepping inside, he found you seated in one of the chairs. Your surprise was evident as you looked at him, his hand resting on his left arm—the same one you had injured. He observed as he grabbed an ice pack before making his way over to where you were sitting.

In the row of chairs, he left a space between you, taking a seat. Your voice broke the silence, teasingly suggesting, "Starting to think you're obsessed with me." Niki couldn't help but scoff lightly as he settled in.

While you weren't exactly off the mark with your comment, admitting such a thing to you was out of the question. He waved off your words with a dismissive tone, "Me? Obsessed with you? Sure, as if."

A quiet pause settled between you both, and subtle glances were exchanged. Breaking the silence, you remarked, "Seems like you're about to join me, huh?"

He looked at you with confusion etched on his face, only to glance down at his arm and yours—both injured in the same spot. Niki couldn't help but chuckle softly, acknowledging that you were right. "Well, not quite as bad as your situation."

"Shut up." Niki's laughter filled the air, and for the first time, you found his laugh endearing—a thought you quickly brushed off. You simply smiled at his boxy grin. Has his smile always been this charming?

Niki realized he had let his guard down, his throat clearing as he subtly corrected himself. He needed to maintain the distance he had always kept between you two—at least for now.

"What are you doing here?" you started to answer, but he interrupted himself, realizing his mistake. "I shouldn't have asked, I mean, look at your arm."

There was the Niki you still had so much hate for. "If I had both arms, I'd strangle you right here."

"But you can't."

"Yeah, thanks for the reminder, idiot—as if I wasn't already aware," you retorted, rising from your seat. He wouldn't be entirely honest if he didn't admit part of him wanted you to leave. It was strange, but he always felt a certain oddness when you weren't nearby. "Can't wait for you to make jokes about my injured arm at every given opportunity."

Your words sparked an idea in him, and as you turned to leave, he was already formulating a plan — his way of getting closer to you than before.

That's exactly what he did. Every chance he got to be near you, he seized it. His motives remained a mystery – was his plan to push you further away? If so, it was definitely working, as he managed to piss you off with every passing moment. Niki couldn't forget the way you clenched your teeth and let out exasperated sighs whenever he was around. He acknowledged he was being a nuisance, but was there really any other choice?

Could he just flip a switch and suddenly be friendly? That would be too suspicious, wouldn't it? Still, there was an inner push for him to say something decent for once.

And now, here he was, sitting beside you, gazing at your plain cast. Two weeks had already gone by – why hadn't anyone doodled on it yet? He hesitated before gently tapping your arm, causing you to look at him, your expression vacant. You were ready for him to bring up your arm again, almost as if you expected him to repeat his hurtful comments again.

“What? I swear if you make fun of my arm–”

"Can I draw on your cast?" He uttered the words, seemingly without a second thought, catching you completely off guard. Why this sudden change? Could he possibly be planning to write something embarrassing? Then again, your cast did look rather dull, almost too depressing to glance at. But, you still had your doubts.

“What? What if you draw something weird–”

“Come on, I’m not that terrible of a person.”

“Literally who do you think you are–”

“I’m your classmate, loser. Think I can’t be nice for once?” His words left you stunned, and you watched him retrieve a sharpie from his bag. He uncapped it, motioning for your arm to move closer to him. However, you found yourself hesitating, which prompted him to raise an eyebrow ever so slightly. "May I?" he asked.

You didn’t know what went through his head, and yours too! Before you knew it, you were extending your arm to him, watching as he concentrated on writing and drawing on your cast. He held it gently, clearly being cautious not to cause you any discomfort. You were undeniably intrigued by his actions, even though his presence was obstructing your view – not that you cared anyways.

Soon, he finished, closing the lid to his marker. The bell rang, almost as if on cue, causing him to hurry out of the classroom. It was as if the roles swapped, he was now the one rushing out quickly. His abrupt exit left you wondering – why was he so nervous? He didn’t know either, maybe he was suddenly being nice with his rival.

As you finally glanced at your cast, your eyes fell on the words he had written: "Hope you heal quickly, loser." Right beside the message was a small drawing of Shin-chan sticking his tongue out. This time you found yourself breaking into a smile, rather than being irritated.

"So you're telling me I could have been writing about your cast this whole time?" Danielle exclaims, her eyes fixed on the doodles now on your cast. She stops, examining the drawings more closely. "Hold on, isn't that Niki's handwriting?" Without giving you a chance to explain, Danielle is already teasing you mercilessly.

You knew you couldn’t argue back with her. After all, how could you explain the decision to let your rival draw on your cast? You gazed at the doodles once more, finding yourself involuntarily breaking into a small smile. Maybe, just maybe, you'd allow him to draw on your cast again.

Yeah, you were totally out of it.

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hoshigray · 9 months

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hii love ur works 🫶🏽

can I req brat reader giving toji the WORST attitude? 💗.

*sinister laugh* Why, yes, you can, noonie! When I saw this, the first scenario that came to mind was the reader being another assassin who likes to get on Toji's nerves. So, imma stick with that!! Had to take an all-nighter to finish this up, hehe~ (no fr tho, it's 8:35 in the morning here) Thank you for loving my stuff, and enjoy~~

A/n: posting this bc I'm staling on my Geto fic since my brain has so much it wants to add...sigh. In the meantime, while I'm working on this, I figured I could drop this as an apology for pulling the fic back (~_~;) My apologies, and I hope y'all like this one! Also tysm for 1.7k followers!! Y'all are too kind and sweet, happy to be writing for you~☆ Cw: hard dom! Toji x bratty fem! reader - you and Toji are assassins on a mission together - explicit content; minors DNI - implied age gap (the reader is at least in their 20s; Toji in his mid-30s or approaching 40s, up to you) - fingering (f! receiving) - cunnilingus - sexual acts in a public place - degradation (brat, crybaby, slut, whore) - Daddy kink - reader talking smack, but Toji teaches you a lesson - tiny praise - pussydrunk! Toji - pet names (baby, doll, princess) - ends with penetration, but mostly Toji eating you out - unprotected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - overstimulation - clitoral play (pinching, pushing, and sucking) - mentions of blood. Wc: 1.8k

You recently joined the hitmen field not too long ago. Still young and new to the workforce, it wasn't the first place you figured to enter for some quick cash. But with your astute skills and abilities, no other occupation best suited you. Besides, it wasn't long before people looked past your recent addition and saw what you were made of. Not only were you good at your job, but you were climbing the ranks, swifting past your inferior subordinates.

It's nothing new, though. You were always good at what you do, better than others at what you do. Doing everything perfectly and effortlessly, that was your style. And everybody knew that.

Everybody but a particular individual. A specific man who always overshadowed you. An older man who snatched your attention the first moment he looked your way, the scar on his lip rooted up with the twinge of his lips.

"Rookies lookin' real cute these days, huh, doll?" were his first words to you. And from that day on, you did what you could to get close to him. Even if that meant irritating him.

From taking his missions to acting as a complete thorn in his side, you do whatever it takes to get Toji's attention. Especially his silent pissed off expressions, which are your favorite to see. And don't let your handler tell you that you two would be on a mission together because the teasing would be endless for the poor, experienced hitman.

Just like today, when you two are deployed to kill an old geezer and his goons for a massive sum of money, Toji goes to one side of the old warehouse to thin out the number of bodyguards and heads straight to the target's den, leaving you to the rest. But imagine his surprise when he sees the old man already dead on the chair at his desk, a stiletto pierced right through his neck, evident of his demise as a stream of crimson staining his yellow dress shirt.

And Toji notices a note left on the weapon, the familiar handwriting in pink with a kiss mark already tells him who wrote it. "Gotta be quicker than that, Grandpa ~" is what he reads in your charming voice, and it vexes him knowing you beat him to the punch.

He sees you leaning on a pallet rack when he returns to the warehouse, and you smile when you turn to him. "Well, that was fast," you play coy, stretching when standing straight up. "Took care of those punks like five minutes ago, figured I'd wait on you."

"I got your note." He wastes no time. He's so hot when he does that.

"Oh? Did ya like it~?" Your hand swiftly grabs something that came dangerously close to your temple — your stiletto. It was thrown with the knowledge that you would catch it. So serious, huh.

"Ya know, for someone callin' me a 'grandpa,' you sure act like a damn kid leavin' y'r toys everywhere."

You chuckle at his complaint. "Awww, did I hurt your big boy feelings with my little words?" You see his green eyes watch your every move as you walk up close to him. "Sorry~, not my fault you were too slow to get the final kill."

Toji raises a brow. "How'd ya get to him before me?"

You shrug with a cheeky grin. "Assassins don't tell their secrets, especially when your old head couldn't get it."

It's his turn to chortle. "Oh yeah? Ya think y'r too fast for me?"

"I wouldn't say that, just that you're too slow for me," your hands go up defensively when he takes a step forward, and you try hard to not get turned on by his well-built physique displayed by the shirt that does a terrible job hiding his features. "As a matter of fact, I bet you're slow at other things."

He takes another step forward, and before you register his next move, he already has you pinned to the pallet rack you once leaned against. His smirk grows broader while your eyes widen at the sudden shifting. "Was that too slow fr' you, princess?"

No, absolutely not. That's what you would want to say to him, his tall figure engulfing you under his presence. But you didn't want to let off that easily, your hand finding the crotch of his pants. When verdant eyes shut to the feeling of your fingers brushing against his bulge, you take the chance to say more. "Oh, that was totally too slow for me, geezer. Such a shame; I thought you'd be a lot more fun. But guess I'll have to go on to the next person who could do a better job."

"Mmm, don't start somethin' y'r not ready for, brat." His gruff voice dials to a whisper, your ears replaying the tone, making the throbbing sensation between your legs prosper. You can feel his erection, even with his pants blocking the view. "Good luck findin' someone who'd shut that pretty mouth of y'rs better than I do."

You giggle after grabbing onto his erect cock, forcing the older man to hiss and his face coming down to your level. You whisper to his ear. "And what makes you think a dumb, old, brute-for-brains like you could satisfy me? I fail to see what you're capable of, grandpa." Those were the words you chose to entice the man under your spell.

But what you really failed to see was the predicament you've gotten yourself in.

Lying on a pallet with your back, your pretty bottoms and panties now discarded to the dirty floor, you scream out to the empty warehouse. Tears and drool escape from your face, and the quiver in your legs is evidence of your body going through the absolute most right now. "Haaahh! Ahhhh!! T-Tojiii, Toji, please!! I'm—Hoooohh!!" You grab tufts of raven hair that are stationed between your legs.

The older man holds your legs up with one hand, the other nestled between your slick-coated folds as his middle and forefinger push in and out of your cunt. His tongue licks furiously on your clitoris, your cries evident of the abuse on your tender bud and vulva.

Toji removes the wet muscle and moves his fingers go an instantaneous pace, the tips of his digits scraping your walls resulting in more tears falling off your face without fail. He snickers, "Look at you; all that screamin' and hollerin' like a damn whore have you forgetting simple rules." His thumb finds your clit, pushing down on it every time his fingers are propelled inside. "What did I tell you to call me, brat?"

The unforgiving rhythm of his hand on your bare vulva has you seeing stars and choking on your spit. "I-I'm sorry, Daddy!! I didn't mean to make you mad at me!"

"You sure 'bout that?" His condescending tone matched the devilish twinge of his scarred lips. The digits doing a 'come hither' motion that has your body jerking nowhere, your legs still restrained by his firm arm pushing them to your stomach. "My 'big boy feelings' were crushed with y'r little comments, so here I am gettin' the payback I need. Was acting all high and mighty until I got my mouth on ya."

"But I said—Mmmph!! I'm sorry!" You wail out, your face hot with embarrassment and excitement. "And I already came—Oh fuck...C-Came three times!!"

"You called me names four times, so I expect you to cum one more time, you fuckin' crybaby." He replies coldly, your tears and pleas on deaf ears. "Heh, if I knew havin' my fingers in you like this would have you behavin', I woulda done it earlier. Grippin' on my 'em like a damn slut."

His fingers go faster with no smooth transition as his mouth returns to your soft button, your screams erupting from the back of your exhausted throat. Even with your voice filling the scene, you can only listen to the raunchy noises of the commotion between your thighs. It's enough for you to wish your ears burn at such lewd sounds, and your head pounding worsens the state of your already mushy brain. This is what you wanted all this time — to have the man you've been infatuated with give you the attention to so dearly strived and poked for. However, the intensity of it all was nowhere near what you had expected.

"Nnnmm!! Daddyyy," the title slurred from your mouth feels hot to the tongue, but it's the only way to address him before your punishment intensifies. You peer down to see his black hair come up, fierce emerald eyes taking in your expressions. "It's coming, gonna cum again!!"

"Yeah? Wanna come on my fingers again?" He chortles when you rapidly nod at him, pathetically desperate for your release. "Fine, cum on Daddy's fingers like the slut you are." He moves his hands to the back of your thighs and has his tongue slowly glide up your soapy chasm, tasting your wetness until he reaches your clitoris and attacks the bud more. Circling around and sucking on your precious nub prompts your orgasm to climb up, and it hits you hard when his teeth and tongue grind on your clit.

With final moans of pleasure, you experience your finish with the harsh treatment of Toji's mouth, hands purchasing his hair for faux stability. Your legs tremble with curled toes, and your body jolts with the shocks. And Toji doesn't stop until he licks the slit clean of your essence, slurping up your sensitive folds until his thirst has quenched. All you can do is submit and let him have his way with you, sucking up your fluids from your cunt to the mess of your inner thighs.

"Mmmm, fucking Christ, Y/n," you hear his mumbled curse below. "Taste so fuckin' good, baby..."

Your body soon calms down from the climax, trying to steady your breathing with even breaths. And Toji finally finishes drinking your wetness, drawing his head up to reveal his lips wet with your come, licking it and his fingers. "Bet that wasn't slow fr' ya, huh."

You meekly nod your head. "And I bet nobody's gonna make you shut you up like that, huh?" You nod again.

The smirk on his face scares you, especially when he straightens up to show his erect dick still hard and ready to be free from the tented pants. And when his cock springs out, your sweaty body runs cold immediately.

"Good," he says while bringing you close to him, arranging his cock to your wet entrance. "But we ain't done here." Complaints and pleas aren't able to enter the air because you just watch the tip of his cock bully through the lips of your chasm and enter inside you with ease. He gradually pushes his entire length into you, getting full with every inch as his girth intrudes between your tight, smooth walls.

"Keep up wit' me, baby," his eyes hone in on you, gauging your reactions before he starts moving his hips relentlessly. "because I'm about to show you what I'm really capable of."

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fob4ever · 6 months

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i was at a bookstore yesterday that had a copy of the kerrang: living loud book that featured the FOB watergun fight article i've never seen transcribed anywhere so i made a transcript of it for archival purposes. enjoy! from kerrang, may 2005.

For a man staring down the barrel of a loaded gun while wearing just underpants, Fall Out Boy bassist Peter Wentz looks remarkably chipper. Especially when you consider the person about to unload in his face is guitarist and vocalist Patrick Stump, grinning madly despite the fact that fellow six-stringer Joe Trohman has a pistol to his temple. He in turn is firmly in the firing line of drummer Andy Hurley, cackling loudly with his finger hovering over the trigger.

Passers-by stop and stare, waiting for the inevitable, messy climax of this "Reservoir Dogs" scenario. The tension mounts, onlookers brace themselves, the band get ready to open fire. Suddenly it happens.

"Argh!" screams Wentz as several litres of icy water soak him. "That's fucking cold!"

No, Fall Out Boy aren't about to blow each other away, They're having a water fight for K!'s benefit in a car park at the Chicago stop on travelling punk circus Warped Tour, where they're knocking out their "softcore" wares ("We're basically a hardcore band that couldn't cut it as a hardcore band," laughs Wentz) on the main stage alongside big hitters like The Offspring, Avenged Sevenfold and My Chemical Romance. The Windy City is more than just another stop for them; Chicago is Fall Out Boy's hometown, the place where they formed out of the ashes of their old hardcore bands, and where they still live with their parents- who are here for today's show - during the few weeks of the year they're not on tour.

It all started for Fall Out Boy here in 2001 when the members wanted a break from playing in their various bands. Long time friends Wentz and Hurley got together with hardcore associate Joe Trohman to do something a bit less heavy. Following a conversation about avant-metallers Neurosis in a bookstore, Trohman introduced Stump to the rest of the band. When their other bands folded, they took on Fall Out Boy full time.

"We wanted to do things before we were ready," chuckles Peter Wentz fondly of the early days of DIY tours for the benefit of the one or two people who would show up. "We'd plan two-week tours, just to see the world. Nobody would book us, so we had to do it all on our own."

"A lot of bands have scenes to go into and surround themselves with those people," says Stump. "We had no scene, so we would just play anywhere, with whoever."

FOB have come a long way from their humble roots. Right now they're America's fastest rising band. Radio smash 'Sugar, We're Goin' Down' has placed them squarely in the mainstream, having spent three weeks as the Number One song on MTV's 'TRL', a prime-time show usually devoted to pop acts like Maroon 5 and Ashlee Simpson. So dizzying their Stateside assent has been, they had to cancel their recent European tour in order to play the MTV Music Video Awards, where they are also nominated for 'Sugar...'. Thankfully, FOB haven't let the screaming adoration turn them into big-headed twats.

"A piece of shit with legs on it could walk onto 'TRL' and people would still go crazy," laughs Wentz. "That stuff just goes straight by me. With the fast turnover in the music industry, how can anyone have an ego"

Andy Hurley chips in. "You can be today's main stage and tomorrow's trash."

That's to find out tomorrow, though. Today among the madness of trying to plan anything on the Warped Tour - stage times are decided daily by lottery - Fall Out Boy have to try and find time for hanging out with family and friends.

"Three weeks on Warped is like three months on a normal tour," says Peter Wentz.

"Home becomes like Atlantis on tour, you wonder if it actually exists after a while," adds Patrick Stump.

Now FOB are big stars, a lot of old 'friends' have been coming out of the woodwork. Joe Trohman and Peter Wentz have polarised views on those who didn't give a toss back in the day suddenly becoming your pal once you've made it.

"The way I look at it is if someone's a dick to you and you don't know them, so what?" says Trohman. "Just care about who did support you, keep those important people close, not the people who five years ago called you a loser."

"I work the opposite way!" Wentz counters, before adding darkly, "The people I think about most are enemies. My brain works on revenge!"

Though a tight knit group of close friends, Peter Wentz is clearly Fall Out Boy's spokesman. He does most of the talking during the interview and writes the lyrics, and seems like the most driven one of the lot. As well as doing Fall Out Boy, Wentz has also written a book with tattoo artist Joe Tesaure, 'The Boy With The Thorn In His Side'. It's a dark, twisted tale that could have come straight from the brain of Tim Burton.

"I've always been into Roahl Dahl and people like that, and I was friends with a tattoo artist at the time and we came up with this idea to do a book together," he explains. "It wasn't something I felt fitted in with what Fall Out Boy is, I hate when bands do something that's not 'them'. The book is what it is, and Fall Out Boy is what we are."

Despite all thise talk of nightmares and revenge, FOB are upbeat individuals, enjoying their newfound success, while refusing to allow success to go to their heads. They'll tell you they don't like the shallowness of groupies or industry parties, and that the trappings of rock stardom hold no appeal.

"I don't feel like I deserve it," says Wentz in closing. "It's not like, 'this amount of time and this amount of shows = this kind of bus'. I appreciate what we've got. We've toured in a tiny van and it was cool, but now we're having new adventures living like this. I don't feel we deserve it more than any other bands do."

He surveys the sumptuosly appointed tour bus for a moment before chuckling heartily.

"Actually, that's a lie, we totally deserve it more than anyone else! Ha ha!"

#yayyyyyy #article

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ladykailitha · 2 months

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Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 11

The second one for today. Steve and Eddie have an actual conversation about their wants and needs from the relationship.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

****

Eddie laughed when Steve explained the reason for the flowers that night over drinks. “Do you really think your parents will leave you alone now?”

Steve shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But they’ll fuck off for awhile at least. And honestly you can’t buy that kind of peace.”

He smiled. “Damn straight. My own dear ole dad came out of the woodwork when Corroded Coffin hit it big. Tried to take credit for teaching me to play guitar.”

Steve leaned forward, chin on his fist. “I’m guessing that’s nowhere near what actually happened?”

“Oh hell no,” Eddie scoffed. “He taught me how to hotwire cars, blend into crowds to get away from cops, and how to lie through your teeth so convincingly that no one could tell. But you want to know who did teach me how to play? My Uncle Wayne. The man who took me in when the cops finally caught up with the rat bastard.”

Steve sighed wistfully. “God, what I would have given to have an Uncle Wayne. But sadly, when the test came back as infertile all they could think about was how to ‘recoup the loss of having an omega for a son’.”

Eddie’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Are you fucking with me?”

“I wish I was,” Steve said mournfully, shaking his head. “Most of the men on my dad’s side of the family were alphas and if they weren’t then they were omegas pumping out babies like a machine.”

Eddie winced and took Steve’s free hand in his. “I’m sorry, baby. That’s got have been so hard.”

Steve squeezed Eddie’s hand with a sigh. “The disappointment was so palpable in that doctor’s office you could cut it with a knife.” He shook his head. “They even refused further testing, even though my great-great grandmother on my mother’s side was a golden omega.”

“Really?” Eddie said, his eyebrows shooting up. “Damn. Those are super rare.”

Steve nodded. “I have two friends with red hair and that’s more common than a golden omega.”

“But if they were so desperate for money why didn’t they test for it?” he asked gently.

Steve shrugged. “My dad is a skinflint. The cost of the test outweighed the gamble on my chance of being ultra-fertile instead.”

“Damn just think you could have had your choice of any alpha in the country,” Eddie teased, “if they had and you turned out to be one.”

Steve shook his head, wrapping Eddie’s hand in both of his. “Nah, I prefer it this way, I have a job I love, a best friend I couldn’t live without and you. If I had been a golden omega, my parents would have made me chose from the crustiest, conservative assholes they could find.”

Eddied ducked his head and blushed to the roots of his hair. “So I’m assuming the label sent you a copy of the interview today?” he asked shyly.

Steve nodded. “Of course. You were so cute.”

“So call me stupid,” he said clearing his throat, “but I didn’t know escorts were allowed partners. I looked it up, a couple even have bonds. Like how the fuck does that work?”

Steve laughed bright and clear and Eddie went to remove his hand from his, but Steve held on tight.

“I wasn’t laughing at you, babe,” Steve soothed. “I was laughing because Robin thought that you weren’t aware and told me to clear it up with you. That was the main reason for drinks tonight.”

Eddie blinked at him owlishly. “Wait, really?”

“Of course,” Steve said. “But to answer your question about how omegas with bondmates can still be escorts, you forget that a lot of what we do isn’t about sex. Everyone associates escorts with sex, but that’s just a common misconception. Sometimes people just want the attention of a kind omega with no strings attached.” He kissed Eddie’s knuckles gently. “And then there are the ones that want a ‘cheating’ scenario without the drama of actually cheating.”

Eddie frowned. “So how does that work?”

“They want to have sex with a bonded omega,” Steve explained. “But without having to worry that there would an actual alpha gunning for them.”

“And their alpha doesn’t care they’re having sex with other alphas?” Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side, his eyes gentle and curious, not judging.

Steve shook his head. “Nope. Things can change, of course. A famous Starcourt escort Mia Sanchez retired last year because her alpha asked her to. But they had been bonded for fifteen years before retirement.”

“Huh.”

That filled Eddie with a warmth he didn’t know he was missing until that moment. He licked his bottom lip slowly.

“And if I wanted to properly court you,” he asked easily, “what would you say to that?”

Steve grinned back at him. “I’d say yes.”

Eddie leapt from his seat and came around the table to kiss him firmly on the lips.

Steve laughed, breaking the kiss, but Eddie didn’t mind. He couldn’t be happier.

“So you don’t want me to chose between you and my job, then?” Steve asked, referring to their contract.

Eddie shook his head. “If there was a way that you could be happy with both, darlin’, that was choice I was always going to make.”

“What about the Grammy’s and your rut?” Steve asked, concerned. He felt bad, but he still wanted to get paid for those things. He didn’t want to suddenly have Eddie expect them for free now that they were courting.

“Don’t worry, Stevie,” Eddie murmured into his omega’s ear. “The contract will still be for those things, we just won’t have a fake break up of our fake relationship after my rut.”

Steve’s lip wobbled. “Would it be a real break up of a real relationship?” he asked softly.

Eddie pulled him in for a big hug. “Not for all the gold in all the world. Okay?”

He let out a shuddering breath. “I’m okay with that.”

Eddie kissed him again before going back to sit down in his chair. “So for the Grammy’s I looked over those two outfits you sent me for suggestion on what you should wear.”

Steve smiled, grateful for the change of topic to something safer and more comfortable for him. “Yeah, which one did you prefer? I mean, I have closet full of amazing clothes and if nothing suits your fancy...” he half shrugged, “it gives me chance to go shopping.”

Eddie laughed. “No, no. I loved them both. Though taking you shopping has it’s appeal...” He shook his head. “I’m getting off the track here. I want you to wear the mini to the awards and the pant suit to the Vanity Fair after party.”

Steve’s mouth formed an ‘O’ and he grinned. “That is a fantastic idea. I love it.”

“I thought you’d like that,” Eddie said with a grin. “Do you get to wear much stuff that’s just for you or do you have to be ‘Starcourt Escort’ twenty four seven?”

Steve shrugged. “It’s a bit half and half if I’m honest. I don’t have to be dressed to the nines all the time...”

“But if you don’t,” Eddie said with a growl, “all the tabloids say that you’re ‘letting yourself go’?”

Steve blushed and nodded.

“What would you want to wear if you weren’t ‘escort Steve’?” Eddie asked, motioning to the waiter that they needed another round.

“It’s stupid,” he said, tucking his chin tightly to his chest. “I’m a fashion plate. That’s what I’m supposed to be.”

Eddie clicked his tongue and wagged his finger. “None of that. I won’t let anyone talk shit about my boyfriend, not even himself.”

That surprised a laugh out of him. “I like the polos, Henley’s, and chinos look. Lame I know.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. That was not the answer he had expected at all. He thought it would have been sweat pants and baggy sweaters.

“It’s not lame if it makes you feel good about yourself,” he insisted.

Another couple of bottles of beer arrived and Steve grabbed one. He just held it in his hands. He let out a long sigh.

“You know how we can roleplay situations for clients?”

Eddie nodded. They had done the meet-cute in a bar roleplay just last night.

“There’s one you won’t find on my list,” he continued. “At least not anymore.”

Eddie could feel the tension build between them. Whatever this was about was fucking hard for Steve to talk about.

“Sometimes busy executives and business owners like to have a scenario where they come home to a cute little omega housewife. If it’s a female omega, think the 1950s type. Dresses and high heels.”

And suddenly what Steve was talking about hit Eddie like a fist to the solar plexus. Male omegas would be in the polos and chinos. But the roleplay had tainted Steve’s love for those kinds of clothes and it made Eddie furious.

“And if you’re seen out and about wearing them,” he guessed, “people think you’re doing the roleplay, don’t they?”

Steve flushed in shame. He nodded once.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Are you sure you like this job?”

Steve’s head snapped up. “Yes! The good far out weighs the bad. Like ruts without an omega can actually fuck up an alpha body. Like completely wreck it to hell. So I get to go in and help these alphas that don’t have an omega they can trust and help them through one of the worst weeks of their year and that it happens multiple times, anywhere from three to five depending on their age. Yes, I’m trained to be charming and great in bed, but that? That’s what makes everything worth while.”

He was panting at the end of his rant, eyes wild, hands clutching Eddie’s fiercely.

Eddie chuckled. “All right, darlin’. I didn’t mean to offend.”

Steve ducked his head and Eddie gently lifted it back up with two fingers. “I like that you’re passionate about what you love, honey. It makes you sparkle.”

Steve looked down at his watch and cursed. “I’ve got to go.” He looked back up at him. “But I’ll see you on Friday?”

Eddie grinned. “It’s a date, sweetheart.”

Steve hopped off his seat and walked away.

Eddie shook his head and murmured, “Hate to see you leave, but damn do I love to watch you go.”

Steve ass looked amazing in whatever the guy wore. But now Eddie understood his need for hyper-masculinity. Even when he was wearing that golden dress, it highlighted his flat chest and broad thighs.

People made assumptions about who Steve was based on what he was wearing at all times and if he was even the slightest bit not what people expected he got hell for it.

In a lot of ways, Steve’s every move was even more scrutinized than Eddie’s and he was the frontman of a very famous metal band. He couldn’t imagine living the way Steve did. But despite all the hang ups and downsides, Steve was happy and you really couldn’t buy that.

He paid the tab and walked out onto the pavement. He lit up a cigarette and took a long drag. He let out the smoke slowly and flicked away the ash.

Eddie was content with his lot in life for the first time since he moved in with his uncle, Wayne. Wayne was always supportive of whatever Eddie wanted to do in life and was happy to hear about Steve.

And even happier when Eddie had called him this afternoon to tell him Stevie might agree to date without all the hoopla of the agency. Everything Eddie did, Wayne was sure to hear about it first.

Wayne was home. No matter the distance. Something Eddie never thought he’d find out here in California.

Stevie was quickly becoming home for him. He never thought he would want to mate, not after seeing how horrible his parents acted. But now?

Now he couldn’t wait to start courting the most beautiful omega in the world.

Eddie took another drag of his cigarette and then flicked it away. He hailed a cab and gave directions for home.

He couldn’t wait to show Steve off on live television. And maybe just maybe win a Grammy or two.

****

Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @demolvr @ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf @melodymeddler @mogami13 @annabanannabeth

#stranger things #my writing #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #omegaverse #alpha eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #omega steve harrington

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staarboyyy · 7 months

Text

supernova

depowered!homelander x reader | no pronouns

18+ characters / scenarios - minors dni

tags / warnings ; homelander reffered to as john, angst with a fluffy ending, domestic sweetness, anxiety attack, eating difficulties

summary ; john feels lost after losing his powers despite settling into a "normal" life with you.

word count ; 1k

a/n ; i posted this a while back to my old ao3 and wanted to put it here, please enjoy !

‘ When a massive star runs out of fuel, the force of gravity causes it to collapse on itself and explode. The stars' remains are fired across the galaxy at a speed of forty thousand kilometers per second. Entire galaxies are outshined by the death of one star - A supernova.’

“Do you think I’m still - Me?”

“What do you mean?”

John fell silent to this question, his eyes cascading slowly over the small apartment before him. It was nothing at all like his room in the tower. Empty, walls barren and painfully dull, the windows only give way to the falling sunset's leaking sunlight, furniture worn in and bought second hand. You pursed your lips as you watched him take in the room for the hundredth time today, his eyes tired and lost, heavy bags underneath the once glittering blue gaze you found yourself swimming in. With a sigh, you bring yourself closer to him on the couch, causing him to give a quick glance to you - John is still himself. Painfully so. Your hands were hesitant for a moment, raising to gently comb through his now fading hair, the dark brown blooming at the roots; Yet his tired eyes suddenly widening at your movement stopped you. He was defenseless, not having left the apartment you bought together for quite some time, losing the muscle mass he once flaunted with shameless pride. His posture had even changed, instead now slumping forward with his elbows resting on his knees, wearing loose pajamas you had brought him home.

“It’s all I ever was. So what am I now,”

John began in a soft voice, his eyes faltering as they drew away from you, to your hands. In his mind, your hands looked different. Everything about you did. He took a slow inhale, the breath swelling in his chest in the same unfamiliar fashion it did since he lost his powers - Everything had become so much more delicate in his eyes; The first time he had helped bring in the couch, you two now sat on, he couldn’t bring it in on his own, and found himself soon weeping on the ground before you, hardly able to explain with words how pathetic he felt he had become. Useless in more ways than he could ever think. Even the small things, having to keep up with eating and drinking water, had become more of a challenge than he had anticipated, and it showed in how his fingers trembled. He so desperately wanted to be grateful when you reminded him, but he still seemed to have a glint of fierceness in his eyes when you did - How dare you assume you knew better than him? But now you had. You had come to know him more than anybody else in the world.

“You’re here. With me. In a shitty one-bedroom apartment with terrible plumbing, and a t.v on the ground. But, you’re here still. If that was all you were, you wouldn’t still be here, you know?”

Your words made his breathing hitch slightly, head falling to avoid your gaze - This was something he did far too often these days. Choosing to let the words fester angrily in his mind, the feeling of his lashes becoming wet from the absurd uncontrollable urge to cry, making his stomach turn nauseatingly. John hated crying more than any of the other traits that came with losing his sense of self. How the unbridled heat gathered tightly in his throat, unable to breathe through it how he normally would have. It’s suffocating how his breathing shakes, his hands clenching in feebly weak fists, nails digging hard into his palms. It hurts. Searing hot, the bubbling need to let a sob break from his chest seems to take over all other rational senses. A strangled gasp escaped him, your arms coming quickly to wrap over him as he shakes his head - He wants to pull away, to scream, to collapse to the floor and beg for whatever God there might be to take him back. To pull him back to the subconscious torture of being the face of America.

“I can’t protect you - I can’t even protect myself.”

You held onto him still, your grasp firm in an attempt to ground him. The feeling of his panic rising made him feel absolutely sick. To experience adrenaline in a way he’s never felt or seen before, to feel the fear he once drank down in careless gasps - It made him feel glued to the spot, a deer in the headlights. Your arms felt strong, felt stable, and hard around him as you pulled him closer to your chest. For so long, John had been able to hear your heart from standing yards away, and now the rarity of it became one of a cherishable sound. His ear pressed against your chest, his breathing still faltering as he listened quietly, foreign tears lacing down his cheeks in slow streams, his eyes wrenched shut in an expression of agony.

“You’ve always protected me; You never needed powers to do that. You make me feel safer than anyone, even now. Especially now.”

John’s eyes slowly opened at this, the sound of your steady heart filling his head, silencing his own thundering one. To him, protection had always been dependent on his strength over others, mind, and body. How he was so easily able to twist words, make others blood run cold with just the sound of his voice or a squeeze of his gloved fist. His eyebrow twitched, lips moving briefly to form words that refused to leave his now swimming mind. He looked nearly confused at how you could so easily speak to him despite your shifting expression of furrowed brows, eyes warm and sympathetic. Normally, John would have jumped at this type of rumbling fear, using it to fuel the continuing power he bathed in - But instead, he slowly raised his hand to meet your cheek. It used to feel so malleable underneath his fingers, yet the warmth spread over his palm now, gently moving across the soft skin with a soft rumbled exhale from his lips.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

And then for just a fleeting moment, his breathing calmed. Everything felt safe in this moment, his hand on your face, gently clutching you in hopes of not losing you. Never losing you.

#bowies fics #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x oc #homelander x y/n #the boys #the boys tv #the boys x reader #the boys x you #homelander x male reader #depowered homelander #depowered homelander x reader

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garfield-mug · 7 months

Note

Could I maybe request some cozy comfort with Jake? A rainy day spent inside with him or something like that, whatever you’re up to, thanks in advance!

A/N: i passed my chem exam so here's a treat! idk how i feel about it, but i don't hate it. would've gotten to this sooner but had halloween plans this weekend, which were very fun. hope you like it! also, i'm getting back into using desk top and it's.... different lmao. also not proof read too hard, so please excuse any spelling or grammatical errors. also, requests are still open!

synopsis: in which you want to remember all that you can during your time with jake.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: none, just hurt/comfort and fluff, no use of Y/N

It didn't rain often in San Diego, but when it did, it poured. As was the case today, plans for spending the day at the beach long forgotten. Jake was home, which seemed to be a rare occurrence with his long shifts on base mixed with the occasional deployment. A day off for Jake was not to be taken lightly, or for granted, and you didn't intend to. So here you both sat, in your home, sharing a blanket as you watched a movie. You'd tucked yourself into his side, legs over his lap, as he rubbed gentle circles over your back. You'd felt your eyes growing heavier and heavier with each pass of his hand. You take a deep breath and nuzzle your face into his chest.

"You keep doing that and I'm gonna fall asleep."

Jake stops his ministrations, smiling softly. "Close your eyes if you're tired, honey. Not much else to do today."

You love Jake, you really do. You love most everything about him. You especially love spending time with him because time seems to be the thing you can never find enough of. You know him well enough to know that he feels the same way. You're comfortable with him in a way you aren't with anyone else, which is why you don't really know why the feeling of shy embarrassment starts to creep up your throat and crawl through your insides. It's why you can't bring yourself to look at him when you say, "Wanna spend time with you. Can't do that if I'm sleeping, lovey."

Jake exhales, pushing a small laugh through his nose and places a kiss to the crown of your head. "Baby, we have all day to spend together. You can sleep for a few hours. I'll still be here when you wake up."

You sit up straighter so you can see his face, still finding it difficult to look him in the eye. Jake's expression changes to something more serious as he takes in your change in mood. He brings a hand up to your cheek and you lean into his touch. "Honey, what's wrong?"

It takes a second for you to gather your thoughts so you can actually for coherent sentences. Even when talking with Jake, undoubtedly the love of your life, being vulnerable was difficult. You knew he would listen, and god was he a good listener. You knew he wouldn't ever make fun of you or throw it back in your face. Still, that persistent little speck of doubt took root in the back of your mind, always imagining the worst-case scenario. You take a deep breath.

"I just... I want to remember the time I spend with you because I feel like we never get enough. And I don't want you to think that I think I'm not a priority for you or that you don't try to make time for me because I don't. I don't think that. I know you try so, so hard. It's just that we both have different schedules and sometimes you're shipped off for months at a time and I know you can't control that. It's not your fault, but it just really fucking sucks when you're not here, so I want to get as much of you as I can."

Your cheeks are warm, your neck is warm. You can kind of hear the blood rushing past your eardrums and you know you're sweating. Your hands would be shaking if you hadn't pressed them together. You kind of wished you could run and hide, but you knew that wouldn't make anything better. Jake is looking at you, bright green eyes boring into yours. His gaze is intense, it always is, but especially in these instances where you have his full, unwavering attention. Jake feels his heart squeeze in his chest, almost in disbelief at what he just heard.

He knows being vulnerable is difficult for you. It's difficult for him, too. He walked around with walls up, constantly on guard and keeping those he knew (except for a few) at arm's length. Until he met you. You, who came crashing into his life with your shining eyes and radiant smile. You, who managed to tear down his walls piece by piece, brick by brick, until there was nothing left standing between you and his heart.

Jake sighs, "Baby, look at me." He brings a hand under your chin to get you to look up at him. "I love you. I love you so much that it hurts. I love spending time with you, too. It doesn't matter what we do or where we go, just that I'm with you. If you're sleeping, so what? It just means I get to hold you. I get to make sure you're comfortable and warm and safe. I get to rub your back and kiss your head and I get to see your face."

Jake has both hands on your cheeks, now, rubbing his thumbs gently over the soft skin under your eyes.

"You look so peaceful when you sleep." It comes out as an almost-whisper. "You may not remember, but I do. I see your face and I know I'm home, I'm safe. I may not be here as much as either of us want, and we may have schedules that don't always line up, but, Baby... any time I get to spend with you is time I wouldn't want to spend any other way. Snoozing on a rainy day or not. I got you in my arms and that's all I need, Babydoll."

Jake's cheeks are warm, his neck is warm. He can kind of hear the blood rushing past his eardrums and he knows he's sweating. His hands would definitely be shaking if he wasn't holding your face right now. He kind of wanted to run and hide, but he knew that wouldn't make anything better. You are looking at him, big bright eyes boring into his. You feel your heart clench in your chest at his words. No one has ever made you feel so loved. You're misty-eyed, smiling up at him like he's just hung the moon and stars. You bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, pulling him in. Softly, you press your lips to his. The kiss is soft and sweet.

"I love you, Jake Seresin." You rest your forehead against his. He pulls you in for another kiss, this time deeper than before, leaving you both a bit breathless. He settles back into the sofa and you follow his lead, lying on his chest. He begins to rub gentle circles over your back.

"Go to sleep, darlin'. I'll be here when you wake up." Jake places a kiss to the crown of your head as you doze off for a cozy afternoon nap.

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rotdistressxox · 1 month

Text

Headcanons: The Ghoulettes + Mountain first meeting / Developing a crush on you

Part 1

Here's part 2 :p IM SO SORRY MOUNTAIN GHOUL ENJOYERS HERE'S YOUR FOOD

Cumulus

• She immediately stands out to you because of her long, curly, white hair. She flashed you a smile and welcomed you to the team.

• The more you got to know her, the more she stood out as the mom-friend of the group.

• Bascically adopts you into the ghoul-friend group. Anyone says anything bad about you will have the 'lioness' to deal with.

• You help her with practicing piano and keyboard. She likes to harmonize with your voice, and sometimes she sings along.

• Winter arrives and the fire ghouls are usually working to heat up the ministry. She invites you to cuddle, since that's what ghouls do to preserve body temperature.

• Presing your body close to hers, you tuck your head under her chin. She whispers an 'Oh my' as she feels her heart beat getting faster. She purred as you fell asleep in her arms.

• Swiss wanted to join, but she growled and swiped at him. "My bad"

• That's a thing that became more common between you two, even if it wasn't cold outside anymore.

• She starts to fuss over you more like she's your wife, which you jokingly call her.

Cirrus

• Is pretty similar to Mist, the only thing that's different is how quickly her mood changes. It's super scary

• At first she was stone faced like the previous Era of ghouls, but as soon as you said hi she was smiles and rainbows.

• Was the one who seemed the most trust worthy at the time, so she's your main ghoul to talk to.

• Pretty playful and flirty, like a mix of Aurora and Swiss. Loves it when you pet her or scratch under her chin.

• Started to feel more attracted to you once she realized her attraction to you wasn't just friendship. It was romantic. Pretty simple when she came to terms with it.

• Overthinks her crush. Is it real? Is it just ghoul hormones or your pheromones? Does she just want you, or does she want all of you?

• Gets jealous pretty easily. Doesn't like it when the Ghouls flirt with you, or you give them attention.

• Almost starts a fight with another ghoul because they stared little too long at you

Aurora

• Is bascically the stereotype of that one girl that wants/ is friends with everyone.

• Very excited to meet you, shakes your hand vigorously. Introduces you to the rest of the ghoulettes instead of letting them do it.

• "Yeah, Aurora's one of the newer ghouls" Cirrus tells you.

• Wants to hang out with you 24/7. You are her bestie afterall! Sleepovers, making friendship bracelets, gossip or shit talking. Her personality is heavily inspired by chickflicks.

• Her hair is naturally a very light green which fades into a dark blue at her roots. One day she decides she wants to dye some strands a neon pink. You help her ofc.

• You had changed into a shirt that was way too big on you, it slid down your shoulders and it took every ounce of her willpower not to shove her nose in her neck. The smell of a human was irresistible to a ghoul.

• "Shit, I can't get this one spot" you sit on her lap and hold her face while you use the brush to finish the bangs. Her ears turned red and her tail wrapped around your leg.

• "Uh, Rora. You good?" "Yeah totally!"

• Didn't keep it a secret that she had a crush on you when talking to the other Ghouls.

• "Ugh I want them so bad" "(Reader) and I already have 27 children in the scenario in my head" "I would kill for them ngl"

Mist

• The most imposing ghoulette, despite her stature.

• Doesn't say anything the first time you see eachother. She only stares you down, watching your every move.

• She's so serious at first, so you start teasing her. The Era 1-3 ghouls have darker skin, so a way you could tell she was blushing was when her cheeks turned a dark purple.

• Doesn't want to admit it, like it all. But she loves it when you tease her.

• "Where's (Reader)?" "They're in the left wing working today. Why?" "Nothing, if you tell (Reader) I asked about them I will end you"

• Not good at emotions. At all. Conflicted all the time because she fell in love so quickly. She has never been in love. Never.

• Refuses to talk about it with the others so she doesn't ruin her 'tough chick' persona.

• One time you snuck up behind her and poked her waist. She let out the cutest whine/yelp you had ever heard. She chased you around though.

• Also very protective

Mountain

• Oh where do I begin.

• Scares the living shit out of you because of how tall he is, by accident because bro just appeared out of the ground and dusted the dirt off his shoulders.

• Doesn't usually interact with the siblings of sin if at all. He's afraid of them

• Is actually very sweet though, he thinks you're a little weird at first. Not a bad weird, just very unusual.

• Stuff you say is usually hilarious. Your humor shocks him at first, but he gets used to it

• Mountain is usually very stressed, there's a lot going on in his head. Practice, more practice, duties, mental health. But for some reason, the loud thoughts in his head disappear when you say "hello"

• When you're not looking, he'll put flowers in your hair until you notice them.

• Ofcourse he knows he's in love, the earth ghouls at usually the ones most aware of emotion.

• When he follows you around the lawns and the gardens, a small patch of purple flowers are left in his footsteps

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghouls #nameless ghoulettes #cumulus ghoulette #cirrus ghoulette #aurora ghoulette #mist ghoulette #mountain ghoul

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anjelicawrites · 9 months

Text

Title: Between safety and need

Pairing: dom!Osferh x sub!reader x dom!Aemond Targaryen and all the combinations thereof.

NSFW, 18 + only please and specific warnings under the cut!

Warnings: smut, spanking, edging, nipple and clit clamp, orgasm denial, cunnilingus, p in v sex, double penetration, ass play, sex toys use, angst with a happy ending, sub dropping, Reader being a brat.

A/N: nonnie I am so sorry it took me so long to answer to this one!!! I hope you'll like it, even though it took me so long to write it!!!

There are days where you are a brat to get your lovers’ attention, others where it’s more of a ruse just because you feel playful like that. Today is neither of those, today you feel bothered by everything: the sound of the TV in the background, Aemond’s fingers on the keyboard, even the gentle snoring of the cats sounds like nails against a blackboard. You had tried all you could to drive the feeling away: shutting yourself in your own study, listening to your favorite podcast and going for a long walk in the countryside, to no avail; your own skin irks you to no end. The pinnacle of your irritation explodes when you and your lovers are in the living room while you try, unsuccessfully to read a book and you snap at Osferth

“Would you please stop making that sound?”

“I’m breathing?” he stares at you with big, surprised eyes

“Then stop! It’s irritating!”.

Usually he’s the one to take the situation in hand when you are like this, it surprises you to no end to feel Aemond’s hand on your neck, fingers curling gently to keep you in place.

“That’s enough, ñuha jorrāelagon, my love”

“Let go of me, Aemond Targaryen” you bite back

“No, I don’t think I will. You’ve been beyond heinous today. I am quite done with you and Osferth is as well”.

If you were less irked, you’d run away, because Aemond is deadly calm, which means you’ve managed to get on his last nerve. That rarely happens, he’s usually patient with you, even when anyone else would already be angry.

“You don’t tell me what to do!”.

Deaf as you are to everything, you don’t realize this is the worst thing to say. You start to realize the moment Aemond’s hand sneaks into your hair to grab the roots tight and pull your head back to look into your eyes.

“I think I will, since you are incapable of being yourself today”.

Aemond is rarely angry with you and even less times he’s expressed his emotions physically the way he’s doing now. Grabbing your hair like this is more of an Osferth move, in general, overpowering you this way is what your other lover usually does when you are being a brat, for Aemond to resort to this, it means you have truly overstepped.

You try to say something but Osferth gently puts a finger on your lips, calm and collected, the darkness of his anger pooling in his lovely eyes.

“Shh, I think you’ve talked enough for today. I know you want to say that you are sorry, but saying it just because now you realize you will be punished is meaningless. We’ll know when you are sorry”.

With that he lifts you over his shoulder, deaf to your grunting and to your fists against his strong back and heads to the bedroom. This is a curveball. Aemond doesn’t play as hard as you and Osferth sometimes do, it’s physically impossible for him to bear many of the things you two do; if he’s being part of this, what are they going to do to you?

You can literally feel the cogs in your head run faster and faster the closer the bedroom is, your brain creating scenarios upon scenarios, until your mind is a mess of images and ideas.

None too gently Osferth deposits you on the bed and orders you to stay put, in a tone that admits zero comebacks. You sit still, hands folded, eyes smoldering: you are not giving either of them the satisfaction of knowing how much this is off putting to you. You stare at them with an adversarial smile on your face, inward you wish to know what they are whispering, Osferth’s forehead against Aemond’s, one of his hands in his long strands.

The moment Aemond leaves you two, Osferth turns toward you, eyes dark and scanning your face.

“Stand up and undress - his voice is sharp - make it fast, you don’t want me to be halfway when Aemond comes back” he adds when you don’t move.

You recognize the tone, it’s his more dominant side that’s come out to play. You feel yourself being torn between following his command and brat out even more.

“You will get a spanking. Ten strikes because I am feeling nicer than you deserve - he says while sitting on the bed, legs spread - if Aemond comes back before I am done, you will have no orgasms for a week”.

The threat makes you undress quickly and lie on Osferth’s legs even quicker. When he threatens you with that, you know he will deliver and, because he plays dirty, he will use you thoroughly for his pleasure for the duration of the ban, trying to make you come, just so he can extend your punishment.

“You know you only have to be mad at yourself for this, right? I was going to be nice and look at what you are making me do. Count for me and say how grateful you are; if I like your tone I might not hit you that hard”.

The first slap lands on your ass and you bark out your instructions, the second and the third are so fast you can barely speak, by the fourth you feel the tears in your eyes. After the fifth, Osferth grabs your asscheek in a tight hold that makes you scream in pain and squirm in his lap.

“I wonder why you are making such a fuss about this. You are wet - he says, sticking two fingers in your cunt and curling them until you moan - a liar and a brat. I was too loose with my handling of you. Fear not, I will not make this mistake ever again, my love”.

He’s almost reached ten and you are already drooling on his tight, begging him for something you don’t know, pity, or maybe more pain until your brain stops working for a while.

You are not in subspace, yet, you are not fully yourself either, loose and weightless when Osferth grabs your hair, forcing your body into a kneeled position to kiss you roughly, his pent up anger and arousal owning you.

His hand is still in your hair when he tells you to sit on the bed again, to which you comply slowly, your limbs still feeling alien to you.

By the time Aemond arrives, you are more back into yourself, your arse stinging with every small movement you make against the cotton of the sheets, your bratty smirk back on your lips.

You are not sure Aemond took so long with whatever supplies he needed, because he couldn’t find them, or because he wanted to give you time to handle the first part of your punishment; whatever the reason, you tell him you are sorry, when he kneels between your spread legs.

“Are you, though, ñuha dāria, my queen?” he asks, his eye boring into yours.

You are and you aren’t. You’d still maintain that life irks you as of now, but maybe telling Osferth to stop breathing was a tad too much.

You know you should stay silent, because Aemond knows all that you are thinking right now: he’s terrifying when he gets like this and uses his analytical skills on you. If he weren’t so subby, he’d make a great dom, whatever those labels mean, your combined sexualities being more fluid than whatever word you use to describe yourselves.

“I thought so - he says, gently cupping your face in his warm hands - know that this brings me no pleasure”

“Are you sure about that?” Osferth kneels behind him, one hand on his cheek to turn his face towards him

“Maybe a little” he admits, his eye trained on you, before kissing Osferth with hunger.

You curl your fingers around the cotton of the sheets, unwilling to show your lovers how much you need them, just by seeing them kiss: you can feel the warmth expanding in your core, the wetness redoubling there and you bit your lower lip to stay quiet, as the kiss turns more physical, Aemond tumbling over Osferth, who just absorbs his weight with a moan, his hands going to his shoulders to make sure he’s not moving, their hips moving in tandem, until they have to separate, a thin tendril of spit connecting their red lips.

“Do you want to change plans?” Osferth asks, his hips jutting up teasingly and you’d call him a whore, lovingly, if the circumstances were different.

Aemond stares at him and then at you, a pensive uhm leaving his lips.

“Maybe another time?”

“Yeah, another punishment” Osferth answers, removing his t-shirt.

You get a second of respite, to try and find your feet, before your lovers sit flanking you on the bed, their hands proprietary on your skin, touching, pinching, scratching, until you moan, wanton.

“Lie back on the bed and let us play, pretty toy”

“Feel free to scream all you want, ñuha dāria and use your safeword, if you need to”.

You huff at that, as if you’d need to safeword your way out of a punishment.

“I’m letting that slide. Next time I’m not going to be so charitable” Osferth says, fingers pinching one nipple tight

“Yes sir - you blurt out, the pain zinging up and down your spine - I’m sorry sir”

“Still a brat, I see. That’s going to be a long punishment. We are going to have fun, you? Not so sure” he tells you, before showing you up the bed.

In the corner of your eyes, you see Aemond deposit on the bed the small chest where you all keep the toys. You had to hide the thing when Finan came over to help with putting together the new bed Osferth made and neither of you had the chance to use the contents ever since: you are fucked, you are so very fucked.

Your train of thoughts is cut short by their lips again, kissing paths of fire on your skin, sucking your breasts until you let out a shrill sound of pleasure when you feel fingers gently part your folds, Aemond delicately exploring you, curling his to massage your G-spot. You’d scream, but Osferth is kissing you, swallowing every single sound you make, one hand painfully clenching around one soft breast as you feel your orgasm approaching, cunt tightening around Aemond’s fingers. So close, so close, his pads delicious against that rough patch inside of you, you’re almost there, almost…

You tear your lips from Osferth’s when Aemond’s fingers leave you right before your orgasm. You stare at him with accusatory eyes, legs clenched together in the vain attempt to seize what he’s denied you.

“I’m so sorry, ñuha dāria - he says - this is still punishment”.

You groan when Osferth sucks your juices from Aemond’s fingers, his eyes boring into yours, challenging you to look away. He is so sensual, his pink tongue lapping Aemond’s long fingers, lips slowly sinking down their whole length, until they’ve bottomed out inside his greedy mouth and he moans, filthy and deep in his chest.

“Delicious - he eyes your cunt - I think I need to go to the source, though”.

With sure hands he moves your legs over his shoulders, keeping you at the mercy of his tongue and fingers, and he has none. He knows how to play you, knows how to twist his fingers just right, in tandem with Aemond’s lips on your breasts. He has to pin you on the bed when he starts writing the alphabet on your clit with his tongue, your legs kicking against his back, your torso arching with every sinful stroke, shrill screams of pleasure and torment escape your mouth, until he stops, again, right before you can come all over his face.

You try to clench your legs again in vain, your boys spreading them gently, eyeing your center like hungry wolves and you can do nothing but cover your face with your hands, as they descend upon you. You lose track of whose fingers are fucking you, whose tongue is lavishing your clit, whose teeth are gently nibbling there, until they don’t and fresh tears spill from your eyes.

“Shh, ñuha dōna, my sweet - Aemond gently cradles your body in his arms, letting you cry against his chest - shh”

“Please” you say, brokenly, your body a bundle of nerves

“Not yet - Osferth gently turns your body so you lie on your back, head on Aemond’s chest - not yet pretty toy”

“I’ve learnt my lesson, I promise”

“We know what’s best for you - he says, kissing your forehead - it’s not time yet”

“When it’s time, I promise it’s going to burn like a supernova, ñuha qēlos, my star”.

A tortured sound escapes your mouth when Osferth enters you, every ridge of his cock like fire against your aching walls. You wail at the pace he’s set, deep and rough pushes that you feel in your whole body, his hands leaving imprints on the soft skin of your tights, to keep you against his body, to grind against you with every push in. Aemond grabs your cheeks with one hand, opening your mouth to let a thin tendril of spit dribble there and you swallow unprompted, anything to show them you are being good, that you’ve learnt your lesson.

With a groan and a hand around his base, Osferth pulls out, making you scream when he turns you on your front, a hand in your hair to force you on your fours.

“Be good and open your mouth” he murmurs in your ear.

You do that, your tongue lolling out, which grants you a slap on your arse and a ‘good girl’.

Now it’s Aemond’s hands on your hips, pushing you back on his cock, until he’s seated inside of you, grinding until you scream, only to have Osferth’s cock push inside your mouth, your combined tastes making your arch in pleasure and curl like a vise around Aemond.

“Best cunt you’ve ever had, right?” Osferth says, cupping Aemond’s nape

“And mouth”

“Yeah”.

Like the good girl you can be, you cross your wrist on your lower back, to let them have full control on your body, and they do. While kissing over you, Osferth fucks your slack mouth brutally, one hand on your nape to keep your there, to slot himself in your throat until you kick your legs when the oxygen is not enough, his movements spurred on by the gurgling, lewd sounds you’re making. Aemond’s pushes are passionate and slow, your cunt wet and loose and perfect around him, hitting your insides just right, one hand taking one of yours, to show you that he still loves you, even when you are being punished. When he picks up speed, he pushes you on Osferth’s cock and you just let yourself being used like this, being pushed and pulled between their bodies, until tendrils of your own orgasm start spreading and you don’t know how to tell them, that you’re getting too close, that you’re almost there, so very close.

When they leave your body, you just flop on the bed, tears of frustration down your cheeks. It’s Osferth who comes to you, he cradles you against himself, his lips softly kissing your tears, until you’ve calmed enough to speak.

“What’s your color?”

“Green, please Osferth” you babble

“Not yet, not yet. You’re taking your punishment so well”

“It hurts so bad, please” you’re a whining mess, so far away from the bitchy brat you’ve been all day

“I know, but that’s what punishment is about. If you like it, then it’s not working”.

He is so reasonable that you have no counter argument, just disconnected words of regret and need blabbed against his neck.

You can feel Aemond’s body behind you, one hand turning your face so he can look at you.

“Do you think you can move again? Raise your hips up for me?”

“Yes, Aemond please”

“Sȳz riña, good girl” and you shiver.

Your boys have to help you move, your legs start to feel like jelly and they have to move them for you, until your arse is up and your face on the mattress.

You tremble when you hear the lube being uncapped, the cold substance being poured on your hole and then Aemond’s index breaching you, slowly, following the way your body responds to the stimuli, adding another finger to gently scissor you, soft moans spilling from your mouth, your clit tingling with every slow movement, your hands searching Osferth’s, needing the tether like a man lost at sea.

Your fingernails bite Osferth’s hands when Aemond pushes the smallest plug in your ass, your nerves responding tenfold to the action. Turning on your back is torment, their fingers burn your skin, the cotton on your back bites at your body; you don’t know if you’ll manage not to safeword your way out of trouble today.

The gentle whirring of the clit sucker makes you groan, your hips jump when Osferth places it on your clit, mercifully on the lowest setting, still your body rocks side to side, legs uselessly trying to close around his arm, Aemond’s lips sucking your breasts are a sweet torment that makes you arch your back, eyes closed, teeth biting your lower lip. You scream when the first clamp closes around your nipple and Aemond has to pull your forehead against his, soothing words cascading from his lips, until his fingers start playing with your other nipple, teasing it into a peak, only to punish it with the other clamp. In the midst of your torment, you try to warn your boys that you’re close again, you don’t want to fail and be punished!

“Shh, I know, I know” Osferth removes the clit sucker and kisses your belly button, his short stubble tickles your tummy

“You’re doing so well, hae iā sȳz riña, like a good girl” Aemond’s lips steal yours in a kiss, slow and passionate, to which you respond with all your remaining energies, one hand sneaking in his hair.

You have to tear your lips away from his when a bigger plug enters you, your eyes begging Osferth to go slow, which he does, with eyes scanning your face for signs that he should stop; all he can see is your features tormented by pleasure again, when Aemond’s fingers enter your cunt, purposefully hitting your spot, your hands flailing on the sheets. You are so beautiful like this, desperate and ready, his thirst for you redoubling, as if he hadn’t already had a taste of your pussy.

His tongue laps at your clit, lips sucking the small bud in sync with Aemond’s fingers inside of you, your cries of pleasure music for his ears, your hands in his hair spurring him on to play with you until you are the closest you’ve been today to your orgasm.

When they release your body, you curl into yourself, their stares feel like they’re burning your skin; you can’t physically manage to bear them.

You realize your mistake when Aemond’s hand tugs at the plug inside of you, pulling it partially out to gently push it in again and again and again, until it exits you and he orders you to turn on your fours. You try, but they have to position you, Osferth’s hand in your hair to keep you upright, while cold lube is poured on your hole again, to prepare you for the biggest plug you three own, the last they’re going to use on your.

You try to relax as much as your body allows you to, still the bulbous parts of the dildo feel like they’re splitting you in two, your muscles barely capable of accepting the last one.

“Do you know a lovely fact about your cunt? - Osferth murmurs in your ear - it becomes deliciously tighter when your arse is full. Here, let me show you”.

Your body is nothing more than a ragdoll he can maneuver to sit on his cock, until he’s bottomed out. You feel so full you can’t breath, his girthy cock feels ten times bigger, your cunt barely capable of accepting it, his fingers on your clit forcing your muscles to curl around him even tighter as he grinds against you.

You can barely feel the sting of Aemond's hand grabbing your hair to turn your head to kiss you again, his free hand playing with the clamps on your nipples, your orgasm curling in your tummy, until they both stop and you don’t even have the strength to scream anymore, tears streaming down your face, wet cunt leaking down your thighs.

“Will you be good for us, ñuha dāria? We’re almost there”.

Aemond turns you on your back again, entering you with a groan of pleasure at the added pressure of the plug in your arse, pushing slowly, needing you to feel every inch of his cock seated in your velvety walls, drinking down every wailing sound you make with each and every movement he makes. He loathes that he has to leave your cunt so soon, but you are dangerously close to orgasm and he doesn’t want you to fail; still there’s one last thing he needs to do.

You lie on the bed spent and wired up at the same time, wet and frustrated beyond imagination, nerves firing with every breath you take. You can’t, you can’t anymore, it hurts too bad to be denied like this but you can’t find the strength to use your safeword: you had worse, you can bear it and Aemond has even said that you’re almost done!

You can’t see what Aemond has in his hand, the rush of the blood in your ears covers his rummaging in the chest of toys and the knowing uhm of Osferth, when he sees what he has planned for the final leg of your punishment, knowing this is the maximum he can dish out. He is always amazed by the way Aemond plays with you, gentle and cruel at the same time and so patient, eyeing you like a hawk, while he’s letting the dragon out.

The bite of the clamp on your engorged clit steals a scream from your lips, your hands barely stopping from removing it, hips pushing against nothing in pain and pleasure

“We’re almost there. Do you think you can go through this?” Osferth asks, big hand caressing your contracting tummy.

You need a second to answer, you want to go through this, you can’t bear this punishment anymore, but you want to show your lovers you’re being good, but it hurts so bad to quench your orgasm every time they touch you, you, you, you, God you mind is unraveling already!

“Yes, please” you say with a small voice, that wins you a gentle kiss on your forehead from each of your loves

“Relax as much as you can” Aemond asks and you try to, even though it’s so hard.

The rabbit vibrator is not the biggest toy you own, but your body is so strung up it feels like it’s splitting you in two halves, the pressure doubled with your arse still full of the plug, even the slow setting Aemond has chosen is a torment that forces you to writhe on the sheets, mewling like a bitch in heath, while the smaller part against your captive clit drives you absolutely mental with pain, and desire.

“Look at us” Osferth’s ask, his voice telling you that you can’t say no.

Your two loves are embracing one another, cocks leaky and erect gently rubbing against one another, Aemond’s lips leaving marks on Osferth’s throat, the latter’s hands on the other man’s arse, kneading the muscles there.

“Don’t take your eyes off us, ñuha dāria. This is the last thing we ask you to do and then you can come”.

You wail, desperate: there’s nothing more erotic than your lovers taking care of one another, their bodies entwined, enslaved to pleasure.

You feel hot and cold at the same time as Osferth lies Aemond on the bed, his lips sucking on his erect nipples until the other moans and arches his back, hands grabbing Osferth’s short locks to pull him even closer to his body.

Both their erections have been tormenting them from the moment they’ve started playing with you, each time they had to pull out, curbing their own orgasm, had been torture, your body calling theirs into its depths. Now, kissing and sliding against one another, cocks red and balls so full it feels like they’re going to explode, renders them deaf to everything but their own moans of pleasure, and that’s why they don’t notice immediately your silence.

The music of your moans and keens of pleasure has been in Osferth's ears, mixed with Aemond's, creating the best array of sounds he could even hope for, now there's only Aemond's soft moans of need and pleasure: something is wrong.

Osferth turns his head to you and sees that you are frozen on the bed, eyes open but not staring at them, full of fear, your hands clenched painfully. Shit! Shit! Shit! he thinks.

"Aemond!".

His tone it's the warning sign that kicks Aemond awake from his sexual reverie, his eye training on your unmoving body, a curse on his lips the moment he realizes they have fucked up.

Frenzied they remove all the toys tormenting you, their bodies enveloping yours under the covers, pressing you between them, their hands caressing you gently, while they call your name, softly, trying to lure you back from the depths of your own mind.

Despite their warm bodies, you feel cold, as if you have no blood in your body. Every muscle hurts, but the worst is your mind, spinning out of control, violent memories plaguing you, blocking you from doing anything, even calling for help. Your lovers' voices have to fight the whirlwind of your thoughts, with tremendous effort you try to focus on them, their tone calm, but with an undercurrent of fear: you have to come back to them, but God it’s so hard to take back yourself from the terror freezing you!

You don't know how long it takes for you to feel your body again, your heart beating a maddening tattoo in your chest, your fingers searching whomever hands' are the closest to feel that you are gaining control back. You want to call their names, but only a strangled cry escapes and then the tears, copious down your cheeks, the sobs welcome because they wreck your body, making you feel real, back where you belong to.

If possible, Osferth and Aemond hug you even tighter, each of your sobs stabs them with guilt: too hard, they've used you too hard and didn't even realize it, this wasn't supposed to happen, still it did and both your lovers are devoured by guilt. How, between the two of them, they didn’t realize? You looked tired, yes, but not more than usual during play and Osferth had dommed you harder than he did this time and nothing happened: what did he miss?

“I’m so sorry - you manage to say - I don’t know why…” and you stop, unsure

“It happens to you, sometimes” Osferth tries to reassure you, not that his own words make him feel any better

“It’s just - you search for the right words, the feat hard with your brain still reeling from the violent sub drop - when I saw you two together, I felt alone, I don’t know why”

“We’re so sorry” Aemond tells, lips in your hair

“No, don’t be! - you crane your neck to look at him - not your fault. My brain misfires sometimes”.

Aemond knows, but it doesn't really matter: he's your protector and he's failed.

You three fall into an uneasy silence, you feeling their combined pain and guilt, them trying their hardest to make sure you are feeling safe, battling against their consciences.

You are not sure how much time has passed, before your body starts to feel like it is your own again: brain less muddled and muscles tired, to the point that you will need to be carried around for the rest of the day. Pressed as you are between your lovers, you can smell sweat and sex on their skins, you feel the thrum of Aemond’s soft humming and Osferth’s fingertips on you, all small signals that help you back into yourself, where you need to be.

Slowly your skin registers theirs again, their faded erections starting to come back, aided by the proximity of your body and its spell, your unhurried breathing and face playfully rubbing against them, like a happy cat, your arse pushing back, against Aemond’s swelling cock.

“Stop it” he tells you, trying to put some distance between your delectable ass and his erection

“Why? I need you”

“I am here”

“I don’t mean in that sense”.

You know Aemond struggles, sometimes, when you give him the reins, between what he likes to do to you, and his fear of hurting you, because to him, you are delicate, made of glass, someone he needs to keep safe from everyone, even from himself. There’s this constant push and pull between you two: you demonstrate to him, again and again, that you can take it, and him, who tries to reconcile his two minds.

“Aemond is right - Osferth murmurs against your forehead - this one was bad. You were out for a while”.

You hug Osferth tighter. You know he worries a lot whenever you sub drop, as if it’s his fault and not your stupid brain; besides, shit happens even during the best planned scenes, you both know that.

“I am feeling better, and I need you two” you say

“You thought you could make it, and look what happened”

“I miscalculated a lot - you answer - I am more focused now, please. I still feel so strung up” and you are.

With the feel of your own body back, so it’s the frustration of so many missed orgasms, nerves itching with every small movement you make.

“We can be quick”

“I don’t need quick”

“Tell us what it is that you desire, ñuha dōna and we decide, together”.

You feel the warmth of shame, mixed with giddiness, expand in your body. For all your sexual prowess, this is something you’ve never done; on one hand, you are happy to try it with Osferth and Aemond, on the other, you are afraid to ask.

“I want you to take my cunt and arse at the same time - both your lovers exhale a surprised huff of breath - please?”.

A sliver of anxiety enters your voice again. The awful feeling of being abandoned by them rearing its ugly head.

“It is a lot - Osferth’s hand finds home in your hair to crane your neck, needing to look into your eyes - we are a lot”

“We might hurt you” the struggle in Aemond’s voice breaks your heart: he cares so much about you

“Please, I know, please. I am more ready than I will ever be, please don’t abandon me”.

You know you are being unreasonable, that they mean well, still you haven’t expunged all the nastiness the sub drop left behind, you can feel panic rising again, squeezing your chest.

“We’ll never abandon you, ñuha dāria” Aemond maneuvers his body so he can look into your eyes

“You are stuck with us, forever. We just care about your wellbeing” Osferth adds.

You try to take a deep breath and calm yourself, to explain yourself better.

“I know how well endowed you both are. I know it will be difficult, but not impossible. Please, I want this first with you two. I had been thinking about it for so long!”.

Your two lovers stare at one another, a silent dialog in their stare: your safety comes first, even before your desires, which don’t exist in a vacuum, they are not mindless sex machines, they too have needs and fears you have to acknowledge. It will kill them to know that they have hurt you just because they were being careless.

You tell yourself all of this, trying to kill the anxiety burning in your belly. Even if they say no, they love you and denying you something comes from a place of love and care, not indifference.

You feel anxiety spread like an itch you can’t scratch and hate that your mind is spiraling again, producing fears you seem incapable to squash.

“We’ll do it - Osferth tells you after what seemed to be centuries of wait - if we feel like something is wrong we stop”.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, your mind gripping itself into reason.

“If we were to stop - Aemond turns your body to face you fully - is for your safety. It doesn’t mean we don’t love you or that we will not try again. You have to trust us on this”

“Yes, I know. Thank you. Thank you for giving me this” and you mean every word.

They kiss you, slow and gentle, their hands caress your body like it’s made of glass, like you are fragile, their gentle motions shaping your desire in something less urgent, like flames hiding under the ash that warm your whole body and lull your mind into calmness.

It’s their hands that move you into position, your ass up in the air and your face in the mattress, Aemond’s face close to yours, one hand holding yours as the other goes to your folds, fingers finding their way between your lips to caress the skin there, to play with your hole and clit; you moan, your nerves still remembering the recent assault of sensations, but you try to stay calm, to feel what Aemond is doing without urging him on, following his lead.

With the same gentleness, Osferth pours lube on your hole and starts preparing you; it’s easy, you had worn the big plug for so long your body is ready, still he takes his time to opening you up, just following the signals your body is giving him, the hand he has on your hip there to caress the skin and give you a sense of security.

You are a babbling mess by the time they decide you are ready, wet and loose and desperate for their touch again, your fingers holding Aemond’s hands grabbing desperately.

You hear Osferth groan as he prepares himself and your breath quickens in excitement, his hand like a brand on your hip.

You both sigh when his head starts breaching you. It doesn’t matter how many plugs, or for how long he has prepared you, taking him makes you feel like he’s owning you, like he’s mastering your body into doing his bidding, your muscles trying to push him out, until they just give up and accept his assault, until he is fully seated and his hips are flush against your ass. You try to breath and to force all your muscles to relax around him: you feel so full and ready to feel him move, but he doesn’t, he just breaths in tandem with you until you are completely relaxed and then props your body up, slowly, until you are flush against him and Aemond can slide under you two.

Osferth is keeping your whole body up, making sure you are not fully sitting on him, your body can't sheat him that way or he'll hurt you.

Aemond stares at you like you are a miracle, a goddess bestowing her presence on him, letting her body be ravished by a couple of heathens.

"Are you still sure?" his cock hurts but you safety is paramount

"Yes Aemond, please" you answer, your voice strained, cunt wet and hungry.

Slowly, your men position you over Aemond's erection and he pushes inside of you, a curse escaping his lips at how tight you are. He has to screw his eye to concentrate on not coming, your cunt like a fist around his erection and he feels like he is splitting you open, the added pressure of Osferth's cock in your ass driving him insane with the need of pistoning inside of you like a wild animal. The high pitched sounds you make don't help any of them to keep an iron grip on their own desires, you sound so lost, like a wounded animal and the darkest parts of them want more of that, more of how defenseless you are under their combined attack.

Aemond breaching you feels like it's taking centuries, where you are made and unmade time and time again, until he is fully inside of you, long cock pushing just right against your G spot, the pressure inside of you bordering on unbearable: not even the toys had ever made you feel this way, utterly and completely possessed by your lovers, every inch of them marking you from the inside, ruining you and knitting you whole. For a second you can't breathe, your mind focused on their impressive cocks inside your holes; you have to remind yourself that you need air to survive, so you try to focus on them, to sync with them, who are as ruined as you are.

"I can feel you two touching through me"

"It is divine. You are divine" Osferth tells you through gritted teeth

"Kessa, yes - you can hear the strain in Aemond's voice - perfect".

They need to move but they wait, until your body feels more relaxed, your breath less ragged, the vise of your holes less tight.

The only thing you can do is moan when they start to move, slow pulls and pushes, never leaving you empty, their cock hitting all the right spots that make you tremble in their arms, and open up even more. Desperate you seek their lips, your teeth their soft skin, needing to leave your mark on them the same way they are doing with you, their hands like manacles on your hips, moving your body to their leisure while you beg and keen like an animal.

They are both cursing at how good you feel wrapped around their cocks, the right amount of tightness that makes their eyes cross, the slapping of skin on skin like music for their ears.

They just need a quick glance, before changing rhythm, entering and exiting you at the same time, pistoning with more vigor against your body and you scream, bloodcurdling sounds of pleasure and pain, your arms flailing, fingers seeking their skins, spit drooling from your mouth. If you felt full before, now the feeling has grown tenfold, their cocks the only thing you can feel, your body not yours anymore, plied open by your merciless lovers, your nerves screaming with the pleasure they are forcing on you. It feels like your insides are going to liquefy, to tear open to make space for your lovers, in reality your muscles are curling brutally around the cocks forcing you open, the pressure inside of you almost painful for them, your body completely lax and at their disposal, your lips attacked by theirs at the same time. You can’t think, only feel their bodies against yours, every inch of their erections against the velvet of your walls, separated by the thin layer of your skin, driving you insane.

Your orgasm arrives like a tornado, robbing you of whatever sanity you have left, your holes curling so brutally to force them to still and spill inside of you, until it hurts too much and they have to leave your body, their comes leaking obscenely from your holes.

You three fall on the bed, no strength left to support your weights, ungraceful and tired, limbs entwined, lips still seeking contact, hands caressing tired bodies.

You feel worn out and weightless, burrowing in their embrace you laugh with happiness, even though you are so tired and ready to sleep. Your lovers are in no better shape, their muscles trembling with all the effort of taking you within an inch of your life, your laugh the balm to the tiredness they feel in their bones and the fear they felt when you sub dropped.

Yes, you three are all supposed to clean up and then wash the toys and change the bedsheets, but there’s time for that, now basking in your shared happiness is the only thing that truly matters, and maybe a nap all dogpiled the way you three are now, anything else can wait.

Everythig taglist: @ilikeitbetterangsty

Poly taglist: @notyour-valentine , @fan-goddess , @aegonx

#aemond targaryen x reader x osferth #aemond targaryen x y/n x osferth #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen #osferth x reader #osferth x y/n #osferth

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moraygrotto · 11 months

Text

scenario/fic commission!!

this is a stuffing + hiccuping story with non-specified characters (A&B) commissioned by a lovely patron of the arts who wished to remain anonymous!!

A is a were-bear preparing for hibernation and B is their very caring partner :3

~🐻~

Part of being a were-bear meant living with one’s ursine tendencies. For Character A, that meant a strong feeling of hunger gnawed at the back of their mind every fall, followed by hibernation for the long, cold winter.

Only a few times since becoming a were-bear had A’s stomach truly felt full during this time of year. “You poor dear,” fussed their partner, Character B, upon learning this fact. “I can’t imagine how starving you must feel.”

A had assured B that they had been eating plenty, even put on a healthy amount of hibernation weight, but B’s impulse toward kindness would not be so easily quelled. They wanted their partner to have a comfortable hibernation, to lay down and sleep feeling truly satisfied.

Therefore, returning home the night before their final preparations for the winter, A was touched but not surprised by the rich aroma of homecooked food wafting from the open windows of their house.

“It’s so cold out!” they called to B, removing their coat in the doorway and venturing toward the kitchen. “What’ve you got the windows open for?”

B’s head popped out of the kitchen door, and they waved with one mitt-clad hand. “I’ve been cooking all day. The kitchen got hot.” They grinned. “Besides, you could smell it from outside, yeah? That’s worth a few chilly fingers.”

A silently admitted that it had worked. They were hungrier than ever. “Don’t freeze yourself to death,” they said, tromping into the fragrant kitchen and shutting the windows. “You’ve–” They paused, not sure if they should look down at the steaming array of dishes on the counter. “You’ve already done so much for me.”

B came up to A’s side, and wrapped one arm around them. “This is an important time of year for you,” they said. “I’d like to help however I can.”

After softly kissing B’s head, A let their gaze drop to the dishes. Immediately, they blushed, and felt their stomach rumble. Some of their favorites were laid out in all their glory.

“I’ve got honey-grilled salmon,” B began, gesturing to three glistening pink fish crammed all atop one platter, “some beef stew with nuts and root vegetables,” –they gestured to a bubbling pot on the stovetop– “some fried fish with dipping sauce,” –a small mountain of breaded fish nuggets on a plate– “and I was just about to check on the blackberry pie in the oven!”

A took a starstruck pause before darting back, out of the kitchen workspace. “By all means,” they said, “do check on that pie! This all looks amazing, and the smell is making my mouth water.”

“I’m excited for you to try it,” B mused, opening the oven and retrieving what A could only call a work of art. The dough cover was cut and braided in an intricate pattern, surrounding a bear pawprint with a heart cut out of its center. B looked up at A, now with a matching blush. “I’m sorry,” they said, “is that too corny?”

“Not at all!” A answered at once. “You were thinking of me when you made this, weren’t you?”

“I was thinking of you the whole time!” B said. “That’s why today was so much fun.” They smiled. “It’s all for you.”

As A drank in the sight of the beautiful foods, their stomach seized the moment to let out a monstrous growl.

“Sounds like someone’s eager,” B said, giving their belly a pat.

“Just hungry as always,” admitted A.

“Let’s get eating, then!” B replied. “I’d say to start setting the table, but I think an armchair and TV tray might be better for this meal. Comfiest is best, right?”

The house was still quite chilly. Thus, as B brought dishes out to the living room, A built a fire in the fireplace, and retrieved a blanket from the couch.

“Get nice and cozy,” B commanded, placing the grilled salmon, napkins, silverware, and a tall glass of cranberry juice onto the TV tray next to A’s armchair. They themself perched on a smaller chair, and gestured proudly to the arrangement. “Your throne, my love.”

Carefully, A sank into the seat arranged just for them. B spread the blanket atop their lap, and a napkin thereupon.

“How are you feeling?” B said. “Warm, cozy, and ready to eat?”

A let out a deep breath, relaxing all their muscles and succumbing to the feeling of softness all around. They felt utterly held by the chair, the blanket, the aromatic dish of their favorite salmon, and B’s patient gaze upon them. “You’re the best,” they said softly. “And yeah, I’m ready.”

Reaching for their salmon, they dug in, paying no attention to their speed. The food tasted amazing. No sooner could a tender hunk flake off the bone than it would pop into their mouth with ravenous relish; A wasn’t sure they could stop if they tried.

“You were hungry,” said B, face aglow in the firelight. “That’s my hungry bear. Fill yourself all the way up; don’t hold back a bite.”

A was halfway through their second fish, when they finally breaked, looking up at B. “This is absolutely wonderful,” they gushed. “The honey’s so sweet, and the dash of spice is just perfect, and each little bit is grilled to –HIC!”

Their whole body seemed to squeeze around the hiccup as it burst from their mouth mid-sentence. “Oh dear,” they said faintly. “I… might have eaten a bit too fast…” As they sat there, fork clenched in hand, another hiccup popped out of them.

B leaned in, affecting a frown as they gave A’s chest a rub in the area of their diaphragm. “Why don’t you have some juice?” they said. “That might help.”

A obeyed, trying to hold their breath as they swallowed down some cold juice. Mid-sip, however, another hiccup hit them, causing their whole body to jolt. “I’m not sure it’s helping,” they said faintly.

“Well, that’s okay,” said B, continuing to rub their chest and tummy. “...You can wait for the hiccups to go away naturally, too. There’s merit in letting your body do as it pleases.” Something in their studied frown seemed to melt away. “Besides,” they said coyly, “all your body’s functions are cute to me.”

A was struggling to form a response to the flattery when their belly growled once again. “I suppose I’ll just –hic– keep eating,” they said.

Though the sharp edge was gone from their hunger, A still devoured the rest of the salmon in minutes flat. B’s gentle hands helped each swallow settle sweetly down into their gut, and they grew used to the interruption of hiccups through their feast.

Immediately after cleaning the plate of salmon, B swapped it for the very full dish of fried fish. This, A found, eating with their fingers, was still deliciously hot. The breading was crispy, and biting into each nugget unleashed the succulent juice of fresh-fried fish. “When’d you get so good at makin’ these?” they moaned through a full mouth.

“Just a little practice,” B replied. “I should make them more often, huh? You have that really cute look on your face…”

A tried to retort that it was B who looked cute right now, but the latter popped a fish nugget into their mouth the moment it opened.

A blinked, then hiccupped.

B grinned. “Don’t stop,” they chided. “Sate that hunger. Fill that monster of a belly.” Said belly squished beneath B’s fingers as they kneaded gently in, teasingly at first, then firmer, knowing just where to massage to help A’s digestion.

Carefully, A chewed and swallowed their bite of fish.

“That’s it,” B said, warm hands combining with the warmth from the fire. “Keep eating your fish, now, and I’ll go grab a nice, big bowl of that stew from the stove.”

A waited until B was out of the room, then paused their feast, pressing one hand into their belly. Right beneath their fingertips, their stomach churned, and up their gullet rumbled a low “bbbBBURR–hic!–RRRrrrpp…”

“Darling!” called B from the kitchen. “You better not be saving all your big burps for when I’m not there!”

Sauce dripping from the piece of fish still clasped in hand, A looked up in the direction of B’s voice. “Sorry…” they called back.

“I’d say the same of hiccups,” B said, strolling back into the living room with a big earthenware bowl, “but I know that might be a little harder to control.”

“Well–HIC!–, you’re here now, so I’ll do my best to treat you,” A said with a wink.

“How lucky I am!” B replied, voice equally flirtatious. “Now,” they said, sitting back down in their chair and balancing the bowl on their lap, “how are you feeling? Still just as hungry?”

A smiled. “Urp– Much less, thank you. Though I admit I could eat a lot more.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” B cheered. “I’m so glad all this food is going to such a good place. You’re gonna have the most peaceful hibernation ever, all curled up around that full belly…”

A let B praise them thus, looking up in between bites as they rapidly finished off the rest of the fried fish. “Ready for stew!” they said, body jolting with a pleased little hiccup.

After handing A the bowl of rich and hearty stew, B perched themself on the arm of the chair and wrapped one arm around them, gazing into the fire as A ate.

Though A was already cozy, the stew seemed to seep its soothing warmth into their very bones. The hiccups were not too bothersome anymore, merely soft little hitches that punctuated their sips, occasionally earning them a kiss on the head from B.

“You’re doing so well,” B hummed. “I hope you’re feeling good. I’ll feed you the whole pot of stew, if that’s what it takes to fill you up.”

With its autumn-primed capacity, A’s belly seemed to like that idea, in spite of the food already piled inside. A themself only chuckled. “Let’s take it one bowl at a time,” they said, then picked up theirs and drained its dregs. “Might I request seconds?”

“Absolutely!” said B, taking their dishes from them and scampering off to grab some more. The smell of the cooling pie drifted through in B’s wake as they returned.

“I can’t wait for dessert,” A admitted, looking down at their blanket-covered belly. “I’m finally starting to fill up, thanks to this delicious stew.”

“Hold on,” teased B, “if you’re just now starting to fill up, that means you’re nowhere near ready for dessert. Can you eat this bowl of stew for me first, my love?”

A obliged, taking the bowl from their partner and happily spooning it into their mouth.

“Your hiccups went away,” B said, almost as if disappointed by the fact.

A grinned, and wiped their face off with a napkin. “Got too focused on your cooking,” they said.

As they gulped down the rest of the stew bowl, however, they felt a tightness in their belly, familiar but missed like an old friend. They struggled to swallow the last oversized mouthful, before– “glp–HIC!”

“I jinxed it!” cried B, flopping forward and giving their belly a pat. “Lemme go get you some more. And if you’re good, and eat it all–” They poked A on the nose. “–I’ll let you have pie à la mode.”

“You really know how to –hic– treat a bear,” A said as B went to refill their bowl yet again. Washing their mouth out with juice, they felt the same press inside. Miraculously, they were full.

They yawned, and stretched carefully as to not bump into the tray. Their body felt pleasantly heavy, and they knew now was the time to relax. “Darling,” they said as B returned, “I’ll do my best to finish this bowl of stew, but I can’t make any guarantees.”

“You’ll finish it,” B assured them.

“I’m not actually sure if–”

“Yeah, you will,” they said. “You’ve got me here.”

“I appreciate your support, but–”

“Say aaah~” Alighting back upon their little chair, B held out a spoonful of stew to A. “Just gotta finish this, and then we’ll move on to pie. You’ve always had a pretty big dessert stomach, so I doubt some nice pie will cause any trouble. First, though–”

Obediently, A opened their mouth. A chunk of broth-logged beef squished on their tongue, suffusing its savory taste throughout their mouth. Somehow, food tasted better when delivered by B’s hand. At this tender acceptance, they let themself sink into the easy rhythm of eating the proffered bites, with time to savor in between each.

They relaxed into the feeling of food pushing out on their stomach, eased by the occasional burp, jostled by the occasional hiccup. It took a long moment thereafter to realize that B had stopped feeding them, and both hands were now tenderly rubbing their belly.

A blinked their eyes open, one at a time, then licked their lips.

“Ready for pie?” B whispered over the crackling of the fire.

“Only if –hic!– you feed it to me,” A replied.

“Oh, gladly,” said B. “Sit back and relax, and I’ll get you a nice big helping with ice cream!”

A may have dozed off a minute, for the next thing they knew was a spoonful of warm blackberry pie and cool vanilla ice cream at their lips, accompanied by B’s hand gently opening their jaw.

“Not many bears get this kinda treatment for their hibernations,” B was saying.

“Mmm–thank you,” A replied after swallowing. B had been right. The moment the sweet pie hit their tongue, their stomach burbled, yearning for more. A sleepy food coma, however, still clouded their brain, so they were grateful for B’s careful feeding and encouragement.

“How does that feel?”

“Hic–urrp– So good…”

“Ready for the next slice?”

A had not realized they had finished a slice, only in retrospect realized the warm fingertips placing a chunk of buttery crust between their lips must have been delivering its very last bite.

“Ready for anything,” A mumbled. “I trust you.”

“I’m proud of you for eating so much,” B said over the sound of their fork. “Settling down tomorrow should be a breeze. Just promise me one thing, okay?”

A swallowed a bite of pie, and grunted a little “hm?”

“Dream about me?”

Chuckling, A tried to lean forward, into the hand kneading into the rolls of their stomach, and B’s warm presence. “I’ll –hic– do my best,” they stuttered out, and shut their eyes. All the food now filling their belly was thanks to B. Of course they would remember them, even in their sleep.

“Good,” said B. They snuck a quick kiss atop their lips, then slipped in a forkful of blackberry pie.

#moray writes #stuffing #hiccuping #oh gnarly dictionary is saying 'hiccupping' can have one or two Ps; heres hoping thats the standardized tag lol

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fearhims3lf · 10 months

Text

PARTIES: @vanishingreyes @fearhims3lf

TIMING: Current

SUMMARY: Trying to find a place to relax, Mateo and Xóchitl pick the same spot, and decide to share.

WARNINGS: None

Between the bullshit music Leticia was forcing upon the shop, and the never-ending city sounds, it was difficult to find a place to simply be. That was the problem with the states. Everything and everyone moved so quickly, there was hardly a moment to sit in the quiet. Mateo missed Mexico for a lot of reasons, but that was a big one. You could find yourself on any rooftop, at any time of the day, and there would hardly be a disturbance. Cars were common, sure, but most people took to walking or riding bikes.

It was so much simpler there. While Mateo always searched for something new and shiny, his roots were in the calm and quiet. There was safety in that. Because of this, finding a little piece of safety was important. Mateo had picked out a spot in the woods, not far off from a hiking path. He had his guitar strapped to his back, ready to play some tunes in a place no one would see him or hear him. Well, that was the plan. Sadly though, there was someone encroaching on his apparently not-so-secret spot.

“Uh…” Mateo scratched at his temple, “You hanging out right here?”

She’d liked Boston for how busy it could be. It wasn’t New York City levels of loud, usually, but it was loud enough when she was little that it did a wonder to keep her mind off of distinctly less pleasant sorts of things, things that she did her very best to ignore as often as she was able to. Wicked’s Rest, on the other hand, was painfully quiet. Even before losing her friend, Xóchitl had had a number of moments where things were too quiet, but Mackenzie had always eliminated any worries that came to mind. Not that there’d been tons of worries, before.

Now that she was back, she did her best to find moments of quiet. Shutting herself in her office did the job sometimes, as did stretch sessions in her home. Not quite yoga, though she tried, but calling them stretching sessions seemed more reasonable. Today, though, she’d decided to go out for a walk, to clear her mind.

She’d been doing more of that lately than she wanted to entirely acknowledge, but that was for her to talk to her presently-non-existent therapist about. Even though she’d told her moms that she had someone she was seeing. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. She was better now, after all.

Except that someone else was in the space she’d elected to walk to. “I was planning to,” Xóchitl replied to his question. “Unless it’s taken.”

Oh…oh. The woman impeding on the space was gorgeous. Or was Mateo the intruder in the scenario? He was inclined to believe he was, all sensible thought tossed to the wind for the sake of swooning a beautiful woman. Mateo was nothing if not a creature of habit.

“You were here first, right? I’m not a barbarian. I respect the rules of dibs.” He smiled playfully, hoping that it was as disarming as it usually was. Tattoos be damned, Mateo had full confidence in his personality—or at least the kind facade he put on for strangers. After all, they’d remain strangers even after they got to know each other’s bodies. But that was still a big what if.

Mateo adjusted the guitar strap on his shoulder and looked around, his eyes landing back over to the brunette. “I’m Mateo, by the way. I actually come here all the time—kinda my cute little spot, ya know?” He chuckled, his sight flickering to her lips. “Surprised I haven’t seen you before. It’s cheesy as hell to ask, but do you come here often?” A common rouse for the mare, utilizing cheesy pickup lines, but actually making them pertain to actual conversation. Thus, making the horrible joke have some sort of charm. Usually.

“I mean, you arrived first today, seems like.” Xóchitl turned her head, examining him. “I didn’t think you were a barbarian and I mean, I didn’t really call dibs, and even if I had, you didn’t know, which maybe overrides it, I don’t know.” She smiled at him. He seemed nice enough, and hell, she was lonely, so having someone so immediately ready to talk to her who wasn’t paying to get therapy was nice. Really nice.

She brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Xóchitl,” she let her gaze fall over the guitar, and, admittedly, in turn over the man. He was handsome - probably in the way that her parents would’ve disapproved of, if she’d had the mind to have an actual relationship in highschool. Though again, Mama and Manman had never really been the sort to judge. That also was neither here nor there right now.

“It is a cute little spot.” She rolled back her shoulders, just slightly, because maybe she was showing off just a bit. Maybe Xóchitl liked the attention, and that couldn’t be any sort of flaw, could it? “I come about sometimes, I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before.” A shrug. “You know, I don’t think I’d mind the company too much.” She sat down, a few feet away from him, and stretched out her legs. “If I’m not a bother to you.” A small smirk crossed her lips.

The charm was working, as thick as it had been laid. That was the benefit of having been at it for a while. Mateo had navigated his way through enough stale conversations to handle the more responsive ones with ease. “Nah,” Mateo grinned, “Rule of dibs applies still. It’s like you haven’t called dibs on anything before. Maybe you’re the barbarian.” An obvious jest, one that made Mateo chuckle lightly as he set his guitar case down.

“So what are you doing out here, Xóchitl?” There was a bit of emphasis on her name, the Latine accent prominent. “Don’t you know there’s monstros out here?” Much like Mateo, but he kept that information to himself. “That’s what the town says anyway.” He took a seat, leaning his back against a neighboring tree as he outstretched his long legs and glided his eyes over Xóchitl’s every feature. “You must be one of those women who can beat the shit outta someone, huh? Dope shit if that’s the case. Strong women are a favorite of mine.”

“I’m not so sure that I like the idea of being a barbarian, but if you say so…” Xóchitl made the slightest of faces, “then perhaps I am.” It seemed to be what he’d want to hear, and he had to have been joking, and even if he wasn’t, she was determined not to let it get to her too much. At all would’ve been impossible, and since she had her thoughts all to herself, she let herself sit with it.

“Hmm?” His accent made her grin, “Sí? qué clase? Bears? Lions, Tigers? Whatever else’s in that Wizard movie?” Xóchitl shrugged. “The town says a whole lot of things. I’m inclined to believe what I see, not rumors. I don’t see any monsters, so I think I’m good.” She let her gaze flit across his jawline, across his lips. “I mean, I don’t have loads of experience, but probably, if I wanted to. I can certainly appreciate a man who likes strong women. Especially one who admits it so readily.” Her lips curved into a smile, and even though she’d very much set out for quiet, she found that she didn’t especially mind this company. Not too much at all.

The Spanish made everything feel softer than anticipated. Being away from home was difficult enough, but to realize there was no one to share his language with made it that much harder. Maine was so far north that Mateo felt displaced most days, but right then? It felt like he had a touch of home with him in the most unlikely of places, with a stranger of all people.

“What wizard move you talking about? They got cooler shit than just regular ‘ol bears, lions, and tigers. There’s fire-breathing birds, venomous dogs, and shit like that.” Mateo scooted closer, leaning back on his hands. “You don’t even believe them even a little? Like…” Him, for example. Though he wouldn’t say that aloud. Mateo would offer a different species. “Like those vampire guys. They don’t look like monsters. They’re, like, handsome devils like me.” He bit his lip as he smiled, unable to contain the laughter that spilled out.

Twilight was funny for so many reasons, except for the glittery skin. Somehow they mixed up vampires and mares in that regard, but it wasn’t something that Mateo minded terribly. The sparkling made him look ridiculous, but that couldn’t be helped. “Well, Xóchitl, here’s to you not having to kick ass. Certainly not mine, at least. I’m a good boy and just wanna relax.” He breathed, leaning toward Xóchitl,

“Was even gonna play some tunes, but that’s more of a fourth date kinda ordeal.”

“Something about Oz, I don’t know, a friend made me watch it when I was six. There’s talk about being lost in the woods with bears and tigers and lions, I think.” Xóchitl paused, “yes, I’ve heard stories about those too.” Stories that she avoided, if possible. Stories that were all entirely something fake, made up, cruel. No matter how popular they might have been.

“I’ve read Twilight. Wasn’t impressed. Don’t see the appeal of pasty men who - anyhow, my point is, you’re handsome, yeah - of course - but I think things like that would look weird, if they were real.” Whatever had killed Mackenzie certainly had, and Xóchitl felt sick to her stomach, for only a moment, before she refocused on the man in front of her, who was now closer than he was before. Which she found that she didn’t mind all too much. After all, anything they were talking about was entirely surface level, which meant she was safe. Meant she didn’t have to keep up her guard as much.

“You seem like a very good boy, and I came here to relax too, so I have no plans to kick your ass. Don’t know if I’m wearing the outfit for it. Is there an outfit for that kind of thing?” She mused, more to herself than anyone else. “Fourth date, really?” A grin spread over Xóchitl’s lips. “Well then what should we get up to now? Though I would love to hear music, but I understand I’ve got to work for that.”

Mateo threw his head back with laughter, the jab at pasty men doing well to humor him. Twilight got so many things wrong, but the sheer lack of color on most of the characters was just offensive. The blue tint overlay didn’t help much either, but Mateo wasn’t going to get into it. “Okay, okay. So you’re saying you’ve got taste. Glad to hear it.” He grinned, settling into the earth on his side with his head propped up. His guitar was all but forgotten in the midst of such wonderful conversation. Mateo was never really one to talk so much, but it all felt so familiar and comfortable—like he wasn’t so far from home anymore.

“Hey, you can kick ass in any outfit if you believe. I’ve had to do it in a suit.” A shrug, “Listen, it got ruined, but I did, indeed, kick some ass.” Mateo laughed again, rolling onto his back and lacing his fingers behind his head. The sky that peeked through the trees was peaceful enough to get Mateo to let out a relaxed sigh, enjoying the moment as long as he could. “Maybe we could discuss favorite music. I am a professional and even work at the Vinyl Countdown in town. By the fourth date, maybe I’ll play a song you like.”

“I have got taste, thank you for noticing.” Xóchitl couldn’t help but grin. “Seems like you do, too, though we’re still getting to know each other, so I can’t say for sure.” It was easy to play playful here, now, even if she didn’t fully feel it in her gut, but he was a stranger, and so he didn’t have to know that her laugh was just the tiniest bit forced.

“A suit?” Xóchitl raised an eyebrow. “Well, don’t you just keep getting more impressive.” She switched to Spanish for a moment, “Are you new in town? I only ask because I don’t always see people like us around, though it’s not awful, as far as towns go.” She nodded at his next words. “Sí, en español o en inglés?” In Spanish or in English? “I’m impressed you already want to try to get to a fourth date. I hope I can make this one worth your while. But yes, what music do you like?”

“That’s what I do, ma. I’m full of surprises and unexpected tastes.” Mateo’s expression fell at the sight of the sun, managing to finally hit his skin. He covered it as quickly as he could, knowing the sparkle would only incite questions. “I, uh…” Eyes flitted from his own skin to Xóchitl, attention difficult while the sun remained a problem. “I’m new in town, yeah.” Mateo replied in Spanish, “All the way from Texas. Left a big family, but it was time to…” Ensure they wouldn’t get hurt with his new job. “Spread my wings.” He sighed, picking at invisible dirt on his arm.

“I actually like punk rock mostly.” Mateo gestured to his battle vest. Well, his day-to-day one. The one he wore to concerts had much more on display, pins and patches of his favorite groups and what he believed in. The one he had on in particular then only had a few patches. The Misfits, Public Enemy, Dead Kennedys, and Bad Brains, all of which were stitched carefully and placed strategically. But that was hardly what mattered at the moment. Mateo was feeling confident with how Xóchitl proclaimed the time they were spending something else. “So, uh…you’re saying this is a first date?” He grinned, “Never fallen into one before.”

“Can’t say I always like surprises, but also I can’t say that I mind this sort too much.” If nothing else, this continued to prove a useful distraction from everything that was going on. Even if less was going on now than at other points of her life, a distraction never could hurt. “I’ve never been to Texas, but I’ve heard it’s beautiful. It must be nice to have a big family -” Xóchitl continued in Spanish, “mine’s just me and my moms. But yeah, I came back here to, I guess, spread my wings too.” Or at least that was the easiest sort of excuse to make regarding her plans for being here.

“Ah yes, I see.” Another nod. “Can’t say I have too much experience with punk rock, but what little experience I have, I appreciate. I like?” She made a small face. “Regardless, that’s a good genre.” Xóchitl laughed, “I say that like I have even the slightest bit of authority on music. Which, I mean, I play the piano, so… but I don’t think that’s the same as knowing music like you seem to.” An eyebrow shot up at his next question. “If you want it to be. I don’t usually date, but I have been known to do things that get me what I want, and I’d like to hear you play music, so, if this is what it takes…” her voice trailed off.

The way Spanish flowed freely was a growing comfort, something Mateo felt like he could lay in for hours. As much as Puro Vida and the fact that Leticia was Latine herself was a saving grace in Wicked’s Rest, there was always a longing for more. Mexico was so far away, and keeping his family safe was the priority in Mateo’s life. He’d take what he could get. In that moment, it was simple conversation with a stranger, who just so happened to be his type. Beautiful, funny, and witty. He was a simple guy. Sue him.

“Depends where in Texas. We moved to Temple, which is close to Austin. Big Latine community and lots of nightlife. Best tacos you could eat if you weren’t in Mexico.” Mateo shrugged, licking his lips as he traced patterns in the dirt. It was easier to talk that way when emotions began to build. He missed home. “Big family can be nice. Not the easiest to be away from them. Most of us stay close to the nest, you know?”

Sighing, Mateo looked back up, smiling at the way Xóchitl talked about music and how she played an instrument herself. She was getting cooler by the second. “Oh, dip? You play piano? Not knowing the beauty of punk rock is fine now that I know you play.” Mateo sat up and laughed, growing excited at an idea that came to mind. “Listen, I don’t usually date either, so this doesn’t have to be anything. If you wanna hear me play, then I’ll do it as long as you play for me. I’ve got a keyboard back at my crib, but it’s up to you, ma.”

She didn’t have to think as much when she spoke Spanish, which was a relief unto itself. Enjoying the conversation was an added bonus, as were Mateo’s looks. “That’s nice. God, now you’ve got me craving tacos - especially carnitas.” She sighed at the very thought of it. “Yeah, I do know. As much as I like independence, I do miss being around my mama. But you know, maybe this town isn’t so bad after all.” So what if she made an extra effort to throw a smile in his direction. She was allowed to have fun, wasn’t she?

“I do, and glad you’ve found it in your heart to forgive me. It’s appreciated.” Her lips curved into another smile. “I’d like to see your place, yeah. I’ll play for you, absolutely. You can even make requests for what I’ll do,” Xóchitl paused for a moment, “and I’ll do my best to perform to your satisfaction.”

Xóchitl had more game than the mare cared to admit. The smile she shot at Mateo felt like she was turning the tables on him, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. He chose to ignore that for the time being. “If you’re craving tacos, there’s literally one place you can get some that actually taste good.” Mateo grinned, thinking of the sopapillas he could get to scarf down. God, he loved sugar, and always had. The craving was just a bit stronger now.

“Sweet,” Mateo grinned in return, “So it sounds like we’re getting tacos and I’ll definitely be getting sopapillas on the side,” He sat up slowly, looking toward his guitar. “Then you can play me piano and we’ll see where the day leads us. Sound good, ma?”

“Oh yeah, where’s that?” She responded, “I’m a shittier cook than I’d like to be, but I can also whip something up, probably.” Xóchitl grinned at him. “I’m starving now, especially with you mentioning that.” Starving for more than one thing, surely, but that was neither here nor there right now.

“Good, yes. You better get two orders of those, because now I really want them. I have some ideas of where the day could lead us, but I’m always up for suggestions, and just to see where things take us.” Xóchitl murmured, “and of course, I’ll play piano – I won’t miss a shot to show off a bit, though I’m welcome to receiving feedback, too.” Her fingers found the top of his hand and she gave it the lightest of taps. “You look like you’d be good at that.”

#wickedswriting #writings #nightmarescapes #c: xochitl #mateo and xochitl #a quiet place

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itsgeecheebitch · 11 months

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Until Darkness Descends

FANDOM: Final Fantasy XV

PAIRING: Ardyn x Aera/reader (you are Aera, loosely based off of Aera Mirus Fleuret)

RATING: Teen

SERIES: The Fall Part 1 of 4

CHAPTER: 5

You leaned against the balcony railing in your guest room and stared at the view. The sleepless city was illuminated by a myriad of colorful lights, flickering and glowing like tiny stars. Meanwhile the night sky remained empty and void. It was as though the celestial beacons were dragged down to Eos, leaving the heavens shrouded in darkness. Only the moon remained. It stood sentinel over the busy city and painted your otherwise dark room in pale milky light.

The duffle bag you brought with you was on the bed, still stuffed full with the clothing you had no intention of unpacking. You weren’t going to stay here for long anyway. In fact, you planned to leave tonight. Your duffle bag was ready and you still had the clothes on your back from earlier today. The only thing you needed was a way out. As you stared down at the long stretch of space between your balcony and the ground below, you knew climbing or jumping down was out of the question.

Before you could wrack your brain for more ideas, you felt the air shift. “Leaving so soon?” Came a familiar mellifluous voice from behind you.

“Uncle Ardyn? What are you doing here?” You asked.

“Visiting a dear friend, of course.” He answered. “As well as to congratulate you on your new position”

You frowned. “How do you know about that?” How did he even know you would be in Insomnia? You haven't seen the older man in a few weeks, let alone earlier today. There was no logical explanation for him knowing about the invitation as well as the proposal.

“I have my ways.” Ardyn answered cryptically. Now that you thought about it, he always knew where to find you and he would always appear at the most opportune moments, usually whenever you needed him or anyone else to talk to. A nagging sense of dread forced the hair at the back of your neck to stand. You trusted uncle Ardyn but something felt off about all of these encounters that you’ve never considered before. But before that nagging feeling could take root, you took a deep breath and forced yourself to relax. This was uncle Ardyn. You have known him since you were five years old. You love him and trust him, sure he is a bit strange and would always appear out of nowhere, but that didn’t mean anything malevolent. Perhaps his magic makes him more intune to your emotions, allowing him to come to your aid whenever you need him. But that still didn’t explain away how he would know where to find you. “Now, I may not be one to stand on ceremony but such an occasion as this calls for a celebration, don’t you agree?”

“No…I don’t want to be here.” You answered truthfully.

His amber eyes softened. “It's your home you yearn for, isn’t it?”

You nodded your head when an idea came to you. “Do you think you could take me there?”

Ardyn hummed at the request. Perhaps this could be an alternative to his original plan. He truly had no real desire to kill you. You were sweet and kind and full of so much life, he wanted to bask in your light for a little while longer. Stealing you away just might be the next best option. He could take you to the heart of the empire, somewhere far away from the chosen king. But what of the gods? Surely they wouldn’t allow you to part from Noctis for long if your presence was truly needed to fulfill the prophecy.

He sighed wearily. It was probably inevitable that you would find your way back to Insomnia, back to prince Noctis’ side. The only way to keep that scenario from happening is to kill you. Ardyn suddenly found his mouth to be too dry. “Of course, my dear.” He said before giving you a smile, one he hoped felt real enough to assuage your inquiring mind as well as silence the doubts within his own. “But before we depart, it would be such a shame to allow this cider to go to waste.”

“Cider?”

With a wave of his hand a bottle of apple cider appeared in his grasp, accompanied by two empty golden goblets. “Sparkling apple juice. It is to your liking, yes?”

You answered yes and Ardyn handed you a cup. The amber liquid bubbled and fizzed as he filled your cup before doing the same to his. He clanked his cup against yours with a gentle, “cheers”, and brought the goblet to his lips. He watched as you mimicked his movements, bringing the cup to your lips. To grant you a peaceful death didn’t take much thought on his part. After finding out your purpose, he plucked a bulb of nightshade from Verstael Besithia’s garden back in Gralea and laced the cider with it. The poison from the plant works swiftly as well as painlessly, easing its victim into a dreamless sleep before gradually killing them in a matter of minutes.

You tilted the cup but before Ardyn could witness you consume the poison, he was suddenly plucked out of reality. First there was darkness, impenetrable and all consuming before a deluge of light burst through the dark and bathed his new surroundings in color. Shades of blue light illuminated the void. There was a smattering of stars here and there where the light didn’t reach and Ardyn knew where he was instantly. How could he possibly forget this wretched place? His eyes scanned the empty space before they fell upon the being whose very presence ignited a raging fire in his core.

Ardyn gritted his teeth so hard he thought they would crack. “What is it now?” He hissed.

“You know why thou hast been summoned.” The god said, the thunderous boom of his voice echoed across the void. “The child has been chosen to serve an important role in what has been ordained, a role thou is not permitted to disturb.”

Ardyn scoffed, “I wonder what role that may be. Could it be you’ve misjudged the capabilities of your chosen champion, so much so that you must rely on the aid of a new contender?”

“To aid the chosen king in his quest is not her true calling. Her purpose is to thee. She will serve as the catalysis to bring forth your salvation.” Bahamut revealed.

“My salvation?” Ardyn asked. This felt eerily reminiscent of his previous encounter with the apathetic god. So much so that he could already feel the god's inequitable decree in his bones before the words were even uttered. Just like last time, Ardyn knew Bahamut's words would be life altering, soul crushing, and final. And just like last time Ardyn was prepared to rebel, even if that meant getting tortured by Aera's likeness all over again.

“Amidst the darkest hour, she shall serve as a beacon of light and drive away the darkness that distorted thy heart.” Bahamut explained. “Once the girl revives the part of thee that remains unmarred by the dark, thou shalt finally be free of the scourge’s influence and power, in time for thy departure from this world. That shall be your salvation.”

That flame in Ardyn's core burst into a full blown forest fire, incinerating all rational thought until all he could see was red. He could kill him. His fingernails stabbed into the flesh of his palm with the need to tear into the god until Bahamut was nothing but a bloody disfigured heap of flesh. Ardyn gritted his teeth and this time he was sure they were bleeding. He could honestly laugh at the absurdity of his circumstances, stripped of his calling and condemned to two millennia of suffering, only to be made a sacrificial pawn and ordained to be weakened by a cheap copy of his late wife, all to make the duty of slaying him easier on the chosen king. And Bahamut had the audacity to call this salvation.

His eyes narrowed into slits. An inferno resided in his veins, scorching him from the inside out but his anger never wavered. “I have no use for your salva-” His center of gravity collapsed and he was falling through the void. With a violent jolt, he opened his eyes to find himself back inside your guest room. You were still holding the goblet to your lips mid-sip, frozen in time for only a fraction of a second before time resumed and he watched as you gulped down the liquid. You finished with a satisfied "ah" and looked up at him.

“That was really good.” You said, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. “Are you ready to go now?” Ardyn observed you. Your eyes were sharp with crystal clarity, your hands weren’t clammy or shaking, and you didn’t appear seconds away from collapsing. You were completely fine, as though you didn’t just consume Eos’ most dangerous poison.

Ardyn hummed. It seemed you were truly under the gods’ veil of protection. They won’t let any life threatening harm befall you, at least not until the day of reckoning, but no matter. Ardyn knew from experience how easy it is to fall out of the gods’ favor. You won’t be any different, he will make sure of that.

“I’m afraid not, my dear.” Ardyn said.

Your face instantly fell. “B-but you said you would take me!” You whined.

“That I did, at least during a moment of forgetfulness. The roads are quite perilous after dark. It wouldn’t be wise to spirit you away just yet, not with all daemons prowling about at this late hour.” He said and that seemed to appease you a bit. Your shoulders drooped forward and you fiddled with the empty goblet in your hands but you didn’t complain.

You were a sensible girl despite being so young. His Aera was like that too, she was far more reasonable than he was when they were children, much like how you are now. Ardyn had to look away from you. The uncanny similarities between you and her made his heart ache, but those similarities weren't real. You weren’t real. You were just a doppelganger, fashioned by the gods’ with his Aera’s likeness, for the intended purpose of aiding in his destruction.

He refused to let those heartless bastards win. Ardyn didn’t care what he must do, he will make you lose the god’s protection even if that means destroying you.

“Okay…” You said suddenly, turning towards him with your pinkie finger extended. “But pinkie promise you’ll take me there in the morning.”

“How about this,” Ardyn started, curling his hand around yours and lowering your pinkie, “give your stay another few days before you make a final decision. If the royal court is not to your liking, then I will personally escort you back to your beloved home.” He promised when the idea came to him. That is exactly what Ardyn should do, must do, destroy you. Break you, turn you into a shell of your former self. The gods’ have no use for a broken tool and will discard you the same as they did to him.

You wrinkled your nose before shimmying your hand out of his grasp. “Hmm…promise?” You asked, extending your pinkie once more.

Ardyn cracked a smile despite himself and curled his pinkie around yours. “Cross my heart and hope to die, or so they say.” But perhaps he doesn’t have to set his plans for you into motion just yet. There will be time in the future after the fall of Insomnia for that. After all, Ardyn doesn’t want the gods to catch wind of his plan and put a stop to it before it could begin. He could use these years to fool the gods, cultivate your trust and adoration for him and make the gods think their plans are unfolding the way they intended for them to. Once the time comes, he will destroy that illusion and show the gods he cannot be so easily manipulated by a mere copy of his late wife. Once you are thoroughly broken and without the gods’ protection, he will kill you.

#ardyn izunia x reader #ardyn lucis caelum #ffxv ardyn #ardyn x reader #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy xv fanfiction #final fantasy fanfiction #final fantasy xv #the rating will change to 'mature' next chapter #last chapter where reader will be a child #don't forget to like comment and reblog #sfw

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stormxpadme · 2 years

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Whumptober 2022 No. 19 - Knees buckling

08/2000

'That's enough for today, Cat. You did well. Get down here, come on.'

'We've got 20 more minutes till dinner watch. I want to use them. Go ahead, I'll finish up alone.' Katja did her best to not let her voice in the mental connection to her mentor sound too annoyed. Given all of her mentor's highly responsible duties, she didn't take it for granted that Emma took the time to help her with her training at all. This had been the best run in a couple of days, she didn't want to let it end yet. Her mind was only just recovering from parting with her actual home and her team, and the anxiety about the dangers from the Brotherhood following her everywhere, for both slowly to become a manageable part of her subconsciousness instead of dominating her thoughts nonstop. Bit by bit, she was starting to be able to channel her emotions again into that very particular state of mind she was trying to perfect here. One, both entirely controlled by what images she allowed in her head or not, and completely unhinged from recalling as many troubling memories as necessary for the wild combination of feelings needed to create the most difficult ability her powers could come up with. With how much progress she'd made with that today, it wasn't the right moment to prematurely end a training lesson, just because Emma probably had one of her business partners on the phone. When her mentor tried to speak more words of objection in her mind, Katja only focused even harder on that scenario in it that she'd chosen today to create the strong gusts of wind keeping her body afloat high on the gym ceiling. 'Permission to enter my head today revoked, Emma. Would be nice if you accepted that for once.' Her eyes still tightly squeezed shut, she blocked out all possible input and only let in the deeply rooted grief, the ongoing, yearning love, the helpless anger towards a sickness that had robbed her of her father much too early but not least all the happy years she'd had with him by her side. Pushing the energy of all those overlapping notions existing in her all at once into her cells, she transferred it to the outside once more, into the wind her gift was creating before it could start to subside thanks to Emma's interruption … All the more did she startle and almost crashed down straight to the thick mat right under her when Emma impatiently forced her way back into her head with a shrill, impatient mental shout of her name. Only at the last moment, she managed to catch herself and land more or less elegant on her knees on the mat, after a quick flip. "For fuck's sake, Emma, I said …" Blowing a few slipped strands of hair away from her face, she scrambled to get up, ignoring the slight dizziness from almost a whole afternoon of nonstop exertion to glare at Emma … Only to startle a second time within seconds when she realized her mentor wasn't alone. "What …?" A wink of the eye later, she was up, in spite of her knees shaking lightly from the brief shock, and threw herself at her fiancé's neck with as much force as she dared, seeing as Scott was still wearing that damn brace from his last encounter with Mystique.

Who, hopefully, hadn't managed to sneak here in one of her devious shapes and was about to stab Katja right through the stomach. Because as unlikely as that was, it also was extremely unusual for her dutiful, disciplined husband to take off for a few hours when it wasn't the weekend, even at summer break when, due to mostly internal students who had no families living at Mutant High, there was only marginally less to do than during the semester.

"It's Wednesday …" she murmured against Scott's shoulder, her voice just shaking slightly because she didn't want Emma to see how much every minute spent with her partner right now threw Katja off course since they'd come so rare because of her damn exile at Frost Ltd. From Scott, she didn't need to hide the few small tears dripping over his neck for a moment before she could get a grip. Heavens, this needed to stop, no matter how damn exhausted she was feeling both in her body and mind on long training days like this, and far too many of them of not being able to be anywhere near her partner. If she kept on despairing at every little thunderstorm in the sky, she couldn't expect to ever be good enough at controlling them for kicking the Brotherhood in the ass enough to earn her freedom back. Her hand softly gripped the short hair on Scott's neck to pull him down for a brief kiss. "Thank you for taking the time anyway, Herz."

"Not a big deal. One of the jeeps needed a few parts from that shop a few miles from here. You know me, only the best quality for our vehicles." The chuckle on Scott's lips sounded slightly too hoarse as well. While a shopping trip to said garage always served as a good excuse to the other side of the town, at this point it was getting to them both that these kinds of drives were necessary at all to do the most normal thing in the world – spending time with the person you intended to marry in a year or so –, just because the Brotherhood had declared Katja into their most interesting lab rat a while ago.

None of that was Emma's fault though, so before dragging Scott off to a few badly needed hours of privacy, Katja quickly entangled herself from him, to apologize for her rudeness to the woman who'd helped her so much in this dangerous situation already and who, judging by the high pitched clack of her usual murder heels descending was rightly of the opinion, she'd been snarled at for that enough for one afternoon; it was no secret that Scott and she usually didn't have a particularly kind and polite base of communication either. "Hey, Emma, wait a second, I …" But before Katja could get around to saying more, the floor was suddenly coming to meet her before she knew what was happening. Scott's startled hiss in her ear, his strong hand on her back, the other arm around her stomach just in time to cushion the worst of her fall, she landed far softer than she deserved it on her knees, her elbow. The short burning in her joints didn't even really reach her consciousness simply from how fucking nauseous she suddenly felt, from how the world was spinning around her. Somehow, she managed not to throw up all over Scott's jeans when he pulled her up, around, and in his arms, his chiseled jaw clenched in concern and a touch of anger that Katja knew only too well from the time when he had been her trainer. Though it hurt because she was being the reason for enough worry recently in his life already, she forced herself to fix his gaze on this upset expression, the irritation flashing behind the red of his glasses, so as to try and get her vision to stop swimming, breathing as slowly and shallowly as possible, her hand tightly clenched around Scott's while the other was on her stomach. "It's okay … I'm okay …"

Emma was either too far away already to hear her strained reassurance or she didn't care. An at this point very well-known low peep from somewhere at the door revealed that she was activating the direct radio link to her most important pupil and helper in this house. "Wash, call the medic to the sick room."

"Please don't bother. I don't need a medic." Katja pulled Scott's hand close for an apologetic kiss and sat up with his help, with gritted teeth, throwing her partner a grateful smile when he handed her both a glucose cube and her drinking bottle from her training bag right nearby, with a sad routine acquired on more than one evening especially in the beginning of her training when she'd still experimented with how much of the combat and defense training she'd never done she could ask of herself. Sometimes she still forgot about that, admittedly, but that didn't mean, she needed a white coat giving her the same lecture that was awaiting her as soon as Scott and she would be alone anyway. "I need a donut and five hours in bed, and that's where we're headed anyway."

"Don't count on it. Not everything is about you, Cat." It wasn't until those tense words, said harsher than Emma had ever spoken with her, that Katja realized, there was a reason, Scott wasn't following her immediately when she pushed herself to her feet, fortunately without her knees buckling again immediately. When she looked down with a frown, she almost toppled over again anyway.

Her partner had his left leg under him in a bent ankle that the brace around his leg should actually have not made possible. The thin, supportive hard plastic stays were neatly broken in two. Scott's cheeks were almost white from stubbornly swallowed down pain. "Don't … I'm okay, Katja." Ironically she had just as little reason to believe him as it had been the other way around a minute ago but Scott held her back with a lot more resolution and detached flatness in his tone when she wanted to bend down to him again, help him get up, get him to the sick bay, all at once. "You go get your blood sugar back to a higher level than a corpse's. Lay down. Give me ten minutes to get that damn thing replaced, then I'll come see you."

That sounded a lot like this visit would be cut extremely short as opposed to the night together Katja had been hoping for, and after just fucking up twice in a row, she was in no good position to argue. She was at a loss for words anyway. And that hurt much more than a few bruises and feeling like she couldn't eat again at least until the weekend. If there was one thing Scott and she had learned early on in their relationship, it was talking to each other when things weren't running smoothly. That the Brotherhood was starting to damage even that natural ease of harmony was a worse punishment than being exiled for a few months. Once she was convinced Emma would get her lover to the nearest doctor in her stead just as well, Katja forced herself to turn away and walk towards the nearest elevator, hating herself for how relieved she was about it.

*********

After that less-than-ideal meeting, the last thing Katja expected was Scott already waiting for her after a brief shower, on her bed, and actually with a plate full of donuts for her no less. Whatever the doctor had persuaded him to take, it seemed to have done its job. There was not a twitch even of discomfort around his mouth when he scooted to the side of the bed, reaching out to her because Katja didn't join him immediately.

Still shaken from what had happened, she was waiting at the bathroom door for a moment, rubbing through her wet hair with a towel absently, with just a not-too-exciting long sleeping shirt on her body to let her partner know she was willing to follow his not exactly subtle hint earlier. But before, they had something to clear up. With an unhappy sigh, she let herself be pulled close and sat down on the ground next to the bed, resting her head on Scott's good knee, that was easier than looking at him. "I … I don't know what to say. I know you hate it when I apologize too much but I … I also don't want you to think I'm trying to be stupid and a pain on purpose."

"You're none of that, babe." Scott buried his fingertips gently in her hair, gently massaging fingertips chasing away what was left of that little almost-collapse earlier. "The only thing you're trying right now is getting your life back. Getting back to us. Do you really think I could be mad about that when I'm missing you just the same, every morning, every night alone in our bed? Every Danger Room unit you're not around for? Whenever I'm working on my bikes? I want you to come home just like you do but that's not happening right now. So the only thing I can ask you for is watching your back in the way I can't right now. Preferably without you doing our enemies' job and running yourself into the ground though."

"I won't forget it again, I promise. Still trying to get a feel for how much energy I need for the whole flying thing." And suddenly it was so much easier, explaining one of the most normal things in the world to someone who knew her body and its limits like not many did. Something that had hurt in her stomach so much worse than being sick earlier dissolved. With a single relieved sob that this time, she didn't feel ashamed of, Katja nuzzled her face against Scott's hand. Just a little awkwardness and exhaustion on both sides. No real bump on the road. That her cheeks were still burning with a little bit of redness though didn't come from the shower. Her fingertips traced the slightly sturdier, old-fashioned-looking stays of Scott's new brace she had a feeling would be replaced again with the far more effective Shi’ar version, the moment he came back to the mansion. Scott never had a lot of patience with being longer off training and battle duty than absolutely necessary, and now Katja had possibly made sure herself that annoying condition would last even longer, without even realizing ... "Just … What Emma said …"

"Emma Frost is a bitch, Katja," Scott stated calmly, half a grin curling on his lips when Katja gasped at the disrespect that might have earned anyone else but the leader of Emma's partner team a lifelong ban in her house. "Don't worry, she knows. It's part of her job description, and she's great at her job. In this case, she's wrong though. Everything is about you right now, babe. Why we had to get rid of Lehnsherr again, why I can't keep you safe in our own house and spend my nights trying to remedy that, every hour of training you do. And you didn't choose any of it."

It was one of the few opportunities when Katja thought she could actually accept, not just understand what he was trying to tell her. New salt glistening in her eyes, she straightened up on her knees to pull Scott down for a kiss again, much longer this time, tenderly. One thing she wanted to get through to him too, though. "If I promise, I'll keep that in mind, do I get at least to apologize for the shit I do fuck up?" Her hand came to rest on his brace again.

"I'll let you know when that's the case," Scott gave back, rather unimpressed. "Nothing new is damaged. I'm fine. If I hadn't been dumb enough to try and save you from getting a bruise more on a harmless ground, I wouldn't even be on too many painkillers to drive back in time for night watch right now. If you tell me now, you're feeling sorry for that, I'll just have to sleep in a guest room."

And just like that, smiling was no longer a hardship. "Yeah, not happening." Her hands clenching harder around his shirt, she gave him a gentle but unmistakable nudge backward to get him to lay down and scooted closer to the bed without taking her head off his leg so she was soon nestled against his loins and could give the zipper of his jeans a mischievous little tug just with her teeth.

For a moment, she was worried, he was maybe not in the mood for a lot of closeness again after all after that kind of welcome when he softly pulled her away from him before she could train that skill any further. Instead, his very distinctive glance at that plate still waiting on her bed had her roll her eyes with a snort. "No offense, babe, but my patience with complaints filed by the White Queen isn't particularly high even on good days. She said she wants all of those gone or the extra hours of her cook are on Charles' bill. And before you ask, yes, she's petty enough to go through with that."

"One day, you're gonna have to tell me what it is with you guys and her." With a reluctant sigh, Katja got down next to him again, not surprised about her partner's dismissive gesture. For tonight, they'd had dealt with enough issues for a day that was offering one of the rare chances they got to be together right now. It turned out, she was on more of a sugar withdrawal than thought. But when half of some delicious caramel topping landed entirely by accident on her bare thigh, an equally hungry mouth promptly followed to lick it clean.

Scott, always being the supportive coach, was apparently determined to make certain, Katja would get to train off all those extra calories in an a lot more fun way for the rest of the night … The giggle on her lips was quickly replaced by a gasp as her lover returned her favor from earlier once that small patch of skin was clean, and stretched up a little – in a movement assuring Katja that Scott's other injury from that last Brotherhood captivity, too, was a lot better –, to run just the tip of his tongue over the flimsy fabric of her panties. When she pressed down against him instinctively, her most recent, half-finished piece of sweet immediately forgotten, he pulled away with a chuckle and gave that spot on the inside of her thigh that was still reddened and shining from his efforts, a little nip. "Up."

Her heart immediately racing in her chest, Katja raised her hips and put the food away for good, impatiently wiping her hands on her shirt that was about to find its way to the floor anyway, then helped her lover pull that very small piece of clothing down her legs so that he wouldn't have to twist his upper body too much that was still healing from that last fatal trip to their enemies' headquarters. Nothing either of them wanted to think about right now, not when the heat was already flashing in her lower body like one of her storms, a whimper on her lips when Scott's clever fingertips painted harmless lines over the bare skin between her legs … leaving behind the foreign, exciting sensation of more syrup, very much definitely on purpose. Oh fuck. Katja thought she might have said that aloud because she could hear her partner laugh again, turned on and hoarsely and full of weeks' worth of yearning, and she wanted him very badly suddenly. When she got out of her shirt as well, her nipples were hard and sensitive already, a shudder going through her whole body when she saw Scott reach for that plate with sweets again. Her right hand ending up on his shoulder for purchase, she traced the outline of his beautiful full lips with her thumb when he turned his head to press a soft kiss to it and gasped out another helpless whimper when Scott teased the pad of her finger with the tip of his tongue, his teeth, a very unambiguous promise of what she was in for in another place soon.

But he was obviously not done yet preparing his meal. By now, Katja knew of a few of his preferences well enough, so she wasn't exactly surprised when he squeezed her hand for a moment and then guided it upwards a little. "Touch yourself for me, babe."

The slight embarrassment and awkwardness from the first of these kinds of experiments long forgotten, Katja willingly sank back against the bedframe a little more, drawing one leg up to open herself up for her lover the way he liked it and slowly ran both hands over her curves, impatient fingertips catching on pebbled skin, twisting and pulling with that none too gentle amount of force she enjoyed most until she started to feel dizzy again in a so much more pleasant way than earlier. Her breath was going much too fast, both from that nice but definitely still too harmless stimulation and that unbearably shallow touch on her most sensitive spots when her lover left a mess of syrup, all kind of sweet fillings, and whipped cream there. By the time two of those cheeky fingers slipped into her for the first time, she was welcoming him hot and wet, her hips pressing down, an uncontrolled moan on her lips when she realized, her lover had pushed something into her there, some of those damn fruits decorating the sweets, and if her brain hadn't short-circuited 10 minutes ago already, now would have been the time. That touch, too, vanished as quickly as it had come though, causing her to actually growl at her sadistic lover this time.

But Scott just grinned at her and lay back beside her instead of continuing. She couldn't even blame him because he had to go easy on himself still, and of course, that bastard calling himself her dom made use of that shamelessly. For a moment he just looked at her with a delicious flush on his cheek, reaching down to the edge of the damn shirt she needed off of him right now and an obvious bulge tenting out his jeans that he never came even close to touching though because Scott was nothing if not the master of self-control, and sometimes, Katja wanted to slap him over the back of his head for that. Only how fast and uneven his own breathing was going when he watched her torture her own reddened nipples with that relentless pressure and tugging, how her body was arching up in need against that emptiness and heat between her legs, revealed how fucking turned on he was himself at that point. And that needy, choked nuance in his voice when he grabbed her wrist, reluctantly stopping her from what she was doing, to pull her towards him instead. "Kneel over me."

At that point, Katja was far too much gone in her simmering arousal to give any thought to how exposed, how vulnerable that position made her feel, and that, of course, had been her lover's goal from the start. And it was entirely alright because if there was someone she could be all these things with, it was the man who'd put a ring on her finger not too long ago. She let him guide her with his strong hands on her waist, her behind until her knees were left and right of his head, her legs spread wide, the sturdy bedframe against her upper body the perfect resistance to hold on to for when her slightly damaged energy reserves should try to give her trouble again … But the only thing her wound up sensations could really focus on was the hungry touch of her partner's lips against her messy skin. With how he was taking his time, removing every single trace of sugar he'd just decorated her with, she was writhing in that massaging grip on her behind soon enough, deep sounds of desire escaping her throat again and again. Her skin felt like it was on fire from those greedy, firm licks, the playful scrape of teeth against a few particularly stubborn stains, the extremely thorough touch of her lover's perfect mouth against her most sensitive spot that had her shaking wildly in his hands, her hips instinctively grinding against the quick swirl of that skilled tongue, again and again, the wetness of her lust leaving its own sticky traces on Scott's chin, his throat.

By the time he finally got there with his efforts, she was groaning helplessly, her hands clenching so hard against the dark wood of the frame it hurt, but even now, her lover wouldn't let her rush anything, starting to thrust inside her just as slowly, exploring her heated tightness with obscene slick noises that had her blush just a little until her knees threatened to give in once more today, for the best kind of reason though. Only when Scott had freed her of those two raspberries he'd not so accidentally lost there and her whole body was a tense spring, her head firmly buried against her arms, her breath going so short and shallow, she could hardly hear her own desperate moans, he finally reached around her trembling thigh to get his equally trembling fingertips on her most sensitive point. That fast, firm squeeze was also well trained at this point, so she was coming all over his mouth basically immediately, shouting out her lover's name, riding every of those quick, deep thrusts of his tongue deep inside of her while, for a little while this night, this week, this horrible month, none of the darkness surrounding both their lives right now mattered. At that point they were both far too hot on each other to stop even for a second, so Katja very reluctantly forced herself to move away from that wonderful touch of lips and tongue against her swollen folds, scooting down with her hips high enough to avoid any pressure on her lover's still bruised side, her agitated hand already busy with buttons and zipper of an extremely annoying piece of clothing.

Her other arm almost gave in under her from where she was bracing herself on it behind her when Scott's soft caresses found her center again, with clear intent, the thorough stretch of two, then three of his quickly moving fingers in her heated center making sure Katja wouldn't be asking too much of herself out of impatience once more. When she bent down to him for a long, grateful kiss, gasping out her lust once more when she could taste sugar, and fruit, and the sweetness of her own arousal, she could feel him smile against her lips. As important as it was that they brought up every issue potentially dangerous to that perfect team they were building in this relationship of theirs – well, safe for that one, unpleasant, red-haired one that was only causing misunderstandings and hurt pride whenever it came up so they'd both decided to ditch it for good –, as often as possible … Sometimes, not a single word was needed to know and agree. That fleeting moment of too deep emotion for an hour of passion was gone as fast as it had come, at the latest when Katja finally could bring her hips over her lovers, not even bothering with undressing him any further for now, and whimpered out her rebuilding tension of need as she slowly took him in. She was dripping at this point, and from how she could see one of Scott's hand clench tightly around some pillow, how his other left those delicious little marks on her leg she liked so much to see even the morning after, it was easy to tell how much he enjoyed it, just knowing, feeling how crazy he'd been driving her a minute ago. So she stayed like this for a bit in spite of her impatience, just clenching her muscles around him teasingly while her hands were busy exploring the firm shape, the deep lines of his chest, nails scraping over his hardened nipples until he threw his head back with a moan and arching his hips up against her impatiently. Only when she could tell from the way he was angling his jaw toward her that his eyes were open again behind his glasses, his lips slightly ajar in a kind of pleading that never came easily to him and that she didn't demand of him either … Only now, she rolled her hips against his, slowly, tentatively first, waiting for him to give her the rhythm his still slightly compromised body could deal with until they were moving as one, the room filled with the sweet scent of their lust and their strangled groans, minds blissfully empty. Just a few minutes later, they were filled with the badly-needed undisturbed silence and recovery of a few hours finally spent sleeping in the same bed side by side again.

It was the second and last time they'd do it in this foreign school together and one of the last chances for this kind of closeness before the world would go to hell around them, though neither of them knew at this point. It was maybe just because of that, in spite of the evening having begun so disappointingly, that they'd always keep this night in beloved memory.

*******************************************************************************

@whumptober | @whumptober-archive

#no.19 #Knees Buckling #x men #fic #nsfwhump #everything after x2 didn't happen sue me #x men original timeline movies #stormys fanfics #probably helps to know the main verse to read this #then again the audience for these is basically non existant anyway #long post #Scott Summers #Cyclops #whumptober2022 #whumptober 2022

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matthewwaugh · 2 months

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Week 04 - SDL/Lighting studio work

Artist exploration 10 - 12

Man Ray

Mostly known for his contributions to surrealist a dadaist movements, Man Ray was an American visual artist who began his career in the early 20’s. His self portraits similarly resemble his absurd and surreal sculptures and other visual mediums. Often using props and staging Man Ray crafted obscure and confusing scenes, inserting himself in in the centre of them. Many of his techniques are astounding to look at today, as these works were years ahead of any sort of digital manipulation. It’s hard to tell if Man Ray is using these photos to expose some hidden truths within himself, or if he’s just playing characters. He doesn’t seem to stick to any one idea, often shuffling around with all sorts of concept. Looking through his catalogue feels very strange, as it’s difficult to find any sort of conceptual through-line or motif. It seems like that’s the point, creating a discography of unconnected experiments is very in line with his surrealist roots.

Ray, Man. “[Self-Portrait with Camera] (the J. Paul Getty Museum Collection).” Getty, www.getty.edu/art/collection/object/104AKV. Accessed 28 Mar. 2024.

Claude Cahun

French artist Claude Cahun took costuming and character playing to a whole other level. ‘Unrecognisable’ would be the most accurate description of her transformations, assuming an entirely different persona. Often tackling subjects of gender and expression, Cahun contorts herself with costuming to use herself as a form of protest. One of the most striking works of hers titled Que me veux tu? (What do you want from me?) is a double exposure of herself, with a fully shaved head and eyebrows. The piece is haunting and shocking, using bright lighting to make herself glow in the grey backdrop. The who faces cast shadows onto one another, making for a truly surreal and peculiar image. her work exudes dedication, but also passion.

“Price Database.” Artnet, www.artnet.com/artists/claude-cahun/. Accessed 28 Mar. 2024.

Robert Mapplethorpe

Similarly, Robert Mapplethorpe uses costuming and staging to explore identity and individuality. His self portraits seem to be a deep dive into self-expression, presenting himself in various scenarios and themes. he often depicts himself in clothing from the 50’s, like in his untitled self portrait which sees him assuming the role of a stereotypical ‘bad boy’ with a leather jacket, draping hair and a smoking cigarette hanging from his lips. Or in another untitle work were he depicts himself as a woman, donning a furry coat, curled hair and makeup around his eyes. His work very much exudes a feeling of self expression, as he uses the medium of self portraits to explore himself and his identity. In 1986, a sick Robert Mapplethorpe photographs himself wielding a staff with a skull on top of it. The piece seems to be him staring death in the eyes, while also coming to terms with his HIV illness and morality.

Tate. “The Photographs of Robert Mapplethorpe.” Tate, www.tate.org.uk/art/artists/robert-mapplethorpe-11413/photographs-robert-mapplethorpe. Accessed 28 Mar. 2024.

Jimmy Nelson and the ethics of portrait photography - Analysis

Jimmy Nelson is an English portrait photographer. He is best known for his work that depict tribal and indigenous people. There is a fair amount of criticism levelled towards him for his explootation and unethical approach to representation through portraits. His critics are well in the right for being skeptical of his work, as Nelson’s photography is (in my opinion) - deeply troublsome. It’s shocking looking through his entire catalogue and seeing that all of his works are centered around cultures that he does not associate with nor understand. It’s also shocking to find out that Jimmy Nelson is a bald white man. He has very little authority to act as the spokesperson for these people and cultures.

It’s hard to refute the good in his purpose - as his works come from a genuine place of repsect. His book titled “Before They Pass Away” is meant to highlight traditions and that have been preserved, despite the fast moving nature of modern day. It’s a positive fundamental, but these photos don’t read as a showing of respect or care, but rather the idealised image of what these communitiues would look like in the head of a white man. It’s hard to believe that a white man behind the lens could even bring out any sort of meaningful artistic expression, given the subject matter. All of his photographs are carried by the people he depicts and the clothing that they wear. His voice as a photographer is nothing short of bland and almost lifeless. It’s stale and cold hearted the way he takes these images. Nothing feels genuine, and more like a facade.

In an article by Survival International, Davi Kopenawa, spokesman of the Yanomami tribe in Brazil and known as the “Dalai Lama of the Rainforest says: “I saw the photos and I didn’t like them. This man only wants to force his own ideas on the photos, to publish them in books and to show them to everyone so that people will think he’s a great photographer. Just like Chagnon, he does whatever he wants with Indigenous peoples. It is not true that Indigenous peoples are about to die out. We will be around for a long time, fighting for our land, living in this world and continuing to create our children.” I think they’re absolutely right. Jimmy Nelsons work serve sno purpose other than to bolster his own image as a great photographer, using his own views on indigenous people in order to try and represent them in his vision. What results is a contorted perspective that serves no purpose other than a collection of works that contribute to stereotypes, and show the wider uneducated public an entirely incorrect and blemished perspective.

International, Survival. “Criticisms of Photographer Jimmy Nelson’s ‘Before They Pass Away.’” Survival International, www.survivalinternational.org/articles/3373-jimmy-nelson-before-they-pass-away. Accessed 28 Mar. 2024.

Roll of 36 - Assuming the role of a "character"

For my week 04 shoot I wanted to take some of the elements from my studied photographers and apply them. I experimented with “Playing a character”, and using the photographic medium as an outlet for visually expressing myself. Initially, i wanted to take some close-up portraits with tight framing while I wore a mask. Unfortunately the lighting conditions and artificial lights i had available to me were not illuminating my face the way I was hoping. I was very frustrated, as I had no clue what I wanted to do anymore, now that my initial plan had been foiled. I decided to play with this idea of failure and frustration, hunching myself over a desk as I started into a mirror. I tried to put myself into a position of feeling like i had failed, and tapping in to the countless amounts of times i have felt hopeless while trying to do work, or in general. What resulted was a shoot focusing on a single location. I wanted to challenge myself to see how many different ideas and variations i could come up with only using one angle. I reintroduced the mask to represent the struggle of not feeling like “myself”. I used a large blanket to cover the window to produce a makeshift diffusion effect. I really liked how this turned our, as it produced some great silhouettes , without completely plunging my figure into darkness. Bringing back the mirror was very nice, as i was able to flesh out my reflection experiments from week 01, this time with a little more focus. Just for a bit of fun, I introduced a little gun prop and used a small lamp to illuminate it in the corner of the room. This was more of a direct reference to a Man Ray self portrait, in which he wields a gun while sticking his head through a noose. It’s definitely a dark image and I don’t want to imply anything sinister about myself, it was more of an exploration of this feeling of failure and frustration - and how far one would go when feeling such a way.

Some edited favourites

Week 04 - Lighting Studio work

During week 4 we spent some time in the Lighting studio learning how to use the equipment properly. We discussed the use of light sources and reflections, and how to accurately determine our apeture and shutter speeds using light meters. It was a great experience as I learned a great deal about how our exposure and shutter speeds are actually affecting our photography in a studio setting. I did find it all a little restrictive and restrained, something I dont like very much - but it was a great learning experience. After a few introductory segments we spilt off into three groups of 4 and were tasked with taking 10 photos of each other, rotating between roles in the studio. When it was my turn to photograph I chose to use a tight light filter, givng a spotlight effect. I wanted to use the light to illuminate part of the face, and to obscure the rest in shadow, leading to a mysterious and almost dreary look.

Selected favourites from shoot

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kmcrumbs · 2 years

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On making peace with one’s self

For years, I’ve always focused and thought about how I can make peace with the people that hurt me, how to cope with the events that scarred me for life, and how can I move forward while trying to lessen the weight of these baggage. It was always about me and other people, me with the external environment that kept on pressuring me to move along, that I did not notice how the chain on my neck that kept on strangling me was placed by my own hands. I wasn’t aware that it is not the past events nor people but my own self that has been keeping me deadlocked into the same place for years.

It was me who built the bricks of towering wall that shut people away, only their distant voices reaching my solace. It was me who burned the bridges while running away when everything became too much. The problem is, the reason why it became my automatic response, was because I was raised to be like that. It was as if I was programmed to press the self-destruct button when the storm comes, or to be on lock down mode when people try to enter my personal space to help me out. The events that occurred for the past eight years has placed me in a constant defensive mode that I responded to everything defensively. Basically, I rejected every action of kindness shown to me and reacted as if it was a means to hurting me. Well, I’ll blame the trauma for that.

But what woke me up from this never-ending nightmare is the constant kindness and love shown to me. I was not used to be on the receiving end and has settled to be the giver for so many years that I did not know how to handle the genuine affection being handed to me. At first, I pushed people away. My mind created vile scenarios in my head to which the ending is always bad and hurtful and sad. And so, I continuously isolated myself, basically placing myself in a mental cage and never letting people in. And yet, years later, people are still here, knocking softly on my mental doors, consistently, lovingly, unceasingly. And I took a peek and I saw hope and love and peace. Despite this glimmer of hope, I realized that something is still holding me back. Someone is still holding me back. And it was my younger self; my younger self to whom my mental cages constantly revolved, to whom every pain and hurt was inflicted. It was me all along who was shutting the door. It was me all alone in that darkness. My abuser was not there. My bullies were not there. My old friends were not there. It was all just versions of me over the years. And so I made my amends.

It is hard to admit that it was you who was punishing yourself all along. It is painful to digest the idea that my own mind has put me into my own demise from which I have suffered so much for so long. And it is ever harder to forgive yourself before you can forgive others. Forgiving myself never came across my mind, not until today. I was so focused on directing my anger towards the villains that I did not notice that a part of that anger is being directed to me, that I am being consumed by my own wrath. It is probably the reason why I hated my reflection so much. Because in the mirror, I see the broken and weak version that I cannot forgive. I’ve always looked at my issues as an external problem, that I neglected the internal aspect that I have to deal with.

But now, I am reminded. I must forgive myself, heal myself, and love myself before I can give any of those away. I need to face myself before I can face those who hurt me. And this time, I can no longer run away. It is me that I must deal with. It is me that I must love above all. And it is me that I must forgive. I have to make peace with my own self. And so, I started doing things to understand me, to find me in the midst of all that is happening in my mind. I went back to the things that I used to love, I used to have so much interest on, so much passion. I came back to my roots and I am slowly reviving them.

The hardest part is to admit and to concede, to say that all this anger, hatred, and pain must stop here. It is extremely difficult to take that first step away from the darkness that has sheltered you for so many years. But one must step away in order to grow, to regain happiness, to be capable of loving and being kind again. One can not always live in the in between, in the midst of pain and being okay, in the midst of happiness and sadness, in the midst of the past and the present. There can only be one version of us that should take charge of our lives. And that version is meant to be the thriving, happy, and at peace one.

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grizzledyoungimpact · 2 years

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Pairing: Jungle Boy/Charlie James/Jill Perry Quote: As your new royal consort, I have a few slight suggestions. Verse: Hybrid

There were rules to rescuing exotic animals. Mostly it was in having a home large enough to provide for the creature, dependent on what it was. The large atrium filled with trees and a water feature was just fine for Jack Petty. He had large trees to swing from, seeing as he was a monkey hybrid. It provided some enrichment, another important part of recusing animals being how to entertain them, but it wasn’t his favorite. No, Jack’s favorite form of enrichment were the games he played with the woman who had rescued himself and his sister Jill from life as a roadside attraction.

Charlotte James was a hybrid rescuer who took extremely good care of her variety of animals. There was the bear cub, Ricky, who she had rescued after the loss of his family. There was the cat, Adam, who helped Charlie to take care of the other animals. Even Jack’s father figure, the gharial hybrid named Judas, was well taken care of. Their enrichment changed from hybrid to hybrid. Judas had a deep sandy-bottomed pool where he could relax, a ball where Charlotte could hide food for Judas to nudge with his distinct nose sat hanging on the center of the pool. Ricky had lots of climbing trees and balls he could play with.

For Jack and Jill, the enrichment had come in the form of games of pretend.

At first it had started because Jack and Jill were used to performing. At the roadside attraction the two had come from, The Kingdom, Jill would often hang from her tail and read poetry to the public. Jack, on the other hand, had preferred feats of daring acrobatics. The two had often been dressed up and, while Jack himself had never cared for it, Jill loved it. She loved her princess dresses, so long as he tail could be free. There was another side to the enrichment as well, one that was more medically inclined.

Jack nor Jill spoke very often.

Well, that was a half-truth. Jill spoke more often than Jack. Her performance was rooted in her ability to speak well, to recite poetry. Jack, on the other hand, was all in action. As long as he could interact with his sister, she could vocalize what he needed. Charlie wanted to bring Jack to a comfort level with his voice as well as with his sign.

Today’s game was, as usual, a tea party. Jill was dressed in her best princess dress, a pink number reminiscent of Jill’s favorite movie, Sleeping Beauty. Her blonde hair, much like Jack’s own, was wild and free. It came from their breed as a pair of golden-headed lion tamarin hybrids. Jack was the opposite of Jill. While his sister was prim, properly dressed for the scenario, Jack was not. He had actually put a shirt on, albeit a simple short-sleeved black one, with his golden mane pulled into a fluffy bun at the back of his head.

Charlie poured the tea, two cups for Jack and Jill, before pouring her own. Jack let his tail hook around the handle, taking a sip from the cup before smacking his lips loudly and letting out a loud ooo. “Prince Jackie seems to enjoy his tea,” Jill giggled around a mouthful of blueberries.

Charlie chuckled gently, one of her calico ears twitching gently, “I do believe you’re right, Jilly. You like this blend, Jack?”

The monkey-hybrid didn’t want to play, “I like it.” His finger moved deftly as he signed.

“You don’t wanna talk to mama?” Jill signed quietly and quickly, trying to obscure her hands from Charlie’s line of vision.

The cat-hybrid chuckled, “As your new royal consort, I have a few slight suggestions. My first is to remember I can read your hands. Cats have good vision.”

Jack lowered his head, nimble fingers scratching at his head, “S…sorry mumma…”

“You alright, love?” Charlie cocked her head to the side, a soft smile across her lips, “You’ve been quiet all day.”

Jack hesitated, before speaking up, “It’s almost been a year since you rescued us…”

The table fell into silence before Charlie spoke up, “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“I…you’re gonna send me and Jilly away,” Jack let out a little sound, just a chitter.

That was very close to the truth, but not quite fully. A year after a hybrid’s rescue, they were given a choice. They could either choose to leave their rescuer and make their way in the world on their own, or they could choose to make a life with their rescuer. Jack was torn between both. He had always wanted to see the jungle again, he could remember it from when he was little.

But he couldn’t imagine leaving Charlie.

“Jackie, mumma would never send us away. She’s not Mr. Taven,” Jill reached across the table to hold her brother’s hand. She gave it a tight squeeze, “Mumma just wants us to be happy.”

Jack gave a soft smile, rubbing his eyes with the back of his free hand, “She…she’s better than Mr. Taven. So much better. D…do you want us to stay, Charlie?”

“I want you to be happy, Jack. I would love for that to be here with me, I would. But if you want to see the world, I won’t stop you,” Charlie wheeled closer and placed a kiss on his temple, “We’re a family, Jack. Forever and always.”

#aew imagine #aew #jungle boy imagine #jungle boy #original character #character: jungle boy #character: charlie james #character: jill perry #verse: hybrid

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class1akids · 5 years

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But Why?

“But why?”

There was no way Bakugou was going to do it again. Not this shit. No more invitations from anyone named Todoroki, and definitely no more running after little rugrats. This was not how he wanted to spend his free day at all, thank you very much. Actually, this was like the pinnacle of all the things he did not want to do.

“My sister invited me,” the Halfie replied in that stupid, monotone voice of his, as if this explanation carried any weight whatsoever. “She told me to bring my friends.”

Tchk. How many times did they have to have this argument? “We have never been, nor will we ever be friends. Tell her that.”

“Kacchan!”

Bakugou shot Deku a warning look. Yes, actually, the shitty Nerd’s presence was just the broccoli on top of this stinking shit-cake.

“That would be rude. And anyways, nobody would be buying it. Not the least Fuyumi-san who has seen it with her own eyes-”

“-Shut up!” Bakugou yelled. He had no intention of discussing this with the Nerd. They all saw it wrong. He was not holding his hand out to Todoroki. His fingers just pointed in that direction for strategic reasons related to the fight. Also, it was fucking forever ago. And more importantly. “Why? And why me? Why not bring Ponytail or Round-face? They are your friends and they’d be perfect for this!”

The Half’n’Half bastard had the cheek to shrug, “Fuyumi asked for you specifically after she heard how well you get along with children.”

Wait, was that a smirk on his stupid mismatched face?

“How could she possibly hear that?” he asked with suspicion.

“I told her.”

Fucking Candy Cane. Why did he go around telling stories of their miserable remedial course days? Those times were supposed to be forgotten - never ever to be mentioned again.

“I’ll KILL y-” Bakugou started.

“-You know, Todoroki-kun told me the story too. It sounded like it was amazing, Kacchan…” the Nerd interrupted with a nervous smile, his eyes suspiciously bright with an emotion that once upon a time Bakugou would have identified as mockery. Now, he didn't know anymore what it was. Gah. This whole thing was fucking unbearable.

“Amazing?!? That was the single, most miserable day of my entire FUCKING EXISTENCE!!!!”

And that was counting the sludge monster and the kidnapping and that time Sero literally taped him into the middle of a snow-ball fight.

“I remember you laughing,” Todoroki countered.

So what? People laughed for all reasons. That was not a proof of anything.

“Only because that half-witted Blondie turned you into a dumbass prince,” Bakugou couldn’t help grinning at the memory.

The other two shared a knowing look. That just pissed Bakugou off even more. Were they making fun of him?

“We are here,” Todoroki motioned at the big school-gate totally needlessly. If the big preschool sign wasn’t a dead give-away, well, there was his sister waving excitedly in front of it.

“Oh, Shouto. You made it! And it’s so nice to see you again Bakugou-kun and Midoriya-kun,” Fuyumi’s smile was as bright and enthusiastic as the first day they met.

Bakugou’s curses got stuck in his throat.

“The kids can’t wait to meet you,” she motioned the boys to follow her as she led them across the yard. It looked a lot like the kindergarten Bakugou went to with the Nerd. There was suddenly a bitter taste in his mouth, like swallowing cobwebs in a dusty, forgotten attic. He pushed the memory away.

“And we are so excited to meet them!” Midoriya enthused on his best fanboy voice. “It’s rare that we get invited to a class, but I think it's a great idea. They must be fantastic kids.”

Tchk.

“They are,” Fuyumi beamed with pride.

Bakugou tried to remember if any of his teachers ever seemed so proud or invested in them when they were little, but he honestly couldn’t remember. Not that he ever paid much attention to those losers. They were just necessary stepping stones for him to becoming the strongest hero.

The door of the large gym opened, revealing twenty snotty brats waiting silently, looking at them with bright eyes and mouths agape.

Fuyumi started the introductions.

First, Midoriya got into a long-winded speech about his dream of becoming a hero, and All Might and saving people and mutter-mutter-mutter, more All Might. Then he asked questions to the kids who started to respond first haltingly, then shouting over each other. Deku gushed about all the little punks’ amazing quirks. He was probably itching to scribble it all down in his stupid notebooks. Pathetic. All Might's successor shouldn't get so hyped about someone’s…wait…snot-bubble-quirk? What the fuck is a snot-bubble quirk? Eeeww.

Even the two sad-eyed, quirkless brats cheered up when Deku patted their heads and told them about the great minds in the support-item lab, showing off his arm-braces.

Bakugou was next up, and he kind of...drew a blank. What was he supposed to say after all the Nerd's word-vomit? Hi, I'm an All Might fan too? Yep, didn't think so. Instead, he growled a greeting at the kids and showed them a couple of small explosions to break the ice. They stared back at him frigthened. Bakugou frowned - he kind of ran out of ideas. He glanced over to his companions. Right. Ice. IcyHot bastard was the reason he was in this mess in the first place. Payback time is a bitch.

“Enough about me. This one is Five pee-pee-man,” he pointed at Todoroki with a triumphant look. “And his quirk is to make not-too-lame ice-slides.”

“ICE SLIDES!!!!” yelled the brats. “MAKE US, ICE SLIDES, FIVE PEE-PEE-MAN!!!!”

The Halfie gave Bakugou an accusing glare, which made him smirk with satisfaction. Maybe this was going to be fun after all.

He watched Todoroki stomp out an intricate ice-slide, adding details at Deku’s suggestions, who predictably got very into the whole thing. He even joined the screaming kids for a round of sliding, using his quirk to make them go at neck-breaking speed.

Bakugou watched them from a corner.

“You are not participating?” Fuyumi stepped next to him. She surveyed the room with a proud glimmer in her eyes.

Bakugou wasn’t not participating so much as he was just waiting for the right time to participate. “My quirk is better suited to make fireworks of the ice in the end.”

“I'm sure it will be a sight,” Fuyumi replied with a little clap of excitement. Then she added with a serious expression, “Thank you for looking out for Shouto. It makes me feel good that he has such great friends.”

“We are not…” Bakugou interrupted her quickly (because he really, really, really didn’t want to know more about Halfie’s miserable childhood; it pissed him off and gave him these little annoying pangs in his stomach), but when he looked at Fuyumi’s wide smile, he swallowed the rest of the sentence. “We do get along fine, I guess,” he shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal. Getting along technically wasn’t the same as being friends. He didn’t lose any ground. It was just a feint.

There was a knowing look in Fuyumi's eyes, like she wasn't buying it, but that she was too polite to argue.

"I'm so glad you decided to come."

Bakugou swallowed the urge to clarify that he didn't decide shit; that he was just dragged along kicking and screaming.

"I just...why? Why me?" There were people with more fun quirks. The kids would love Tape-guy or Round-Face or Froggy. They could fling them from the ceiling or make them float.

"Shouto told me you have something very special..."

"Sensei! Mika got a boo-boo," some of the kids came running to Fuyumi dragging along a crying little girl with a bleeding pinkie.

"Excuse me..." Fuyumi gave Bakugou an apologetic look and knelt down to the kids to deal with the emergency.

Something very special, huh? Bakugou scanned the room as if it was a battlefield. It was filled with laughing, screaming, squealing kids being chased by Deku up the ice-slides. Then his eyes zoned in on that brat. There was always one. The one with the scowl and the arms crossed across his chest. The little shit who felt he was above it all. Who thought that he needed no friends. The one who wasted his childhood looking down on others instead of being part of the fun.

The others were for Deku and Todoroki, but that one was for Bakugou to save. That’s why he was here.

He marched towards the kid.

“YOU! I’m talking to you, little troll! Why are you standing there? You think you are a special hot-shot or something? Go have fun!!!!”

AO3 link

#bnha #bhna vignette #bnha fanfic #ficlet #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #todoroki fuyumi #wonder trio #fuyumi invites the wonder trio to visit her class #brusselssprout writes #this scenario took root in my head today #i just feel like fuyumi would kind of start to include baku and deku in activities #she's so happy shouto has friends

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