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colleendoran · 3 months

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Great Big Good Omens Graphic Novel Update

AKA A Visit From Bildad the Shuhite.

The past year or so has been one long visit from this guy, whereupon he smiteth my goats and burneth my crops, woe unto the woeful cartoonist.

Gaze upon the horror of Bildad the Shuhite.

You kind of have to be a Good Omens fan to get this joke, but trust me, it's hilarious.

Anyway, as a long time Good Omens novel fan, you may imagine how thrilled I was to get picked to adapt the graphic novel.

Go me!

This is quite a task, I have to say, especially since I was originally going to just draw (and color) it, but I ended up writing the adaptation as well. Tricky to fit a 400 page novel into a 160-ish page graphic novel, especially when so much of the humor is dependent on the language, and not necessarily on the visuals.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Anyway, I started out the gate like a herd of turtles, because right away I got COVID which knocked me on my butt.

And COVID brain fog? That's a thing. I already struggle with brain fog due to autoimmune disease, and COVID made it worse.

Not complainin' just sayin'.

This set a few of the assignments on my plate back, which pushed starting Good Omens back.

But hey, big fat lead time! No worries!

Then my computer crawled toward the grave.

My trusty MAC Pro Tower was nearly 15 years old when its sturdy heart ground to a near-halt with daily crashes. I finally got around to doing some diagnostics; some of its little brain actions were at 5% functionality. I had no reliable backups.

There are so many issues with getting a new computer when you haven't had a new computer or peripherals in nearly fifteen years and all of your software, including your Photoshop program is fifteen years old.

At the time, I was still on rural internet...which means dial-up speed.

Whatever you have for internet in the city, roll that clock back to about 2001.

That's what I had. I not only had to replace almost all of my hardware but I had to load and update all programs at dial-up speed.

Welcome to my gigabyte hell.

The entire process of replacing the equipment and programs took weeks and then I had to relearn all the software.

All of this was super expensive in terms of money and time cost.

But I was not daunted! Nosirree!

I still had a huge lead time! I can do anything! I have an iron will!

And boy, howdy, I was going to need it.

At about the same time, a big fatcat quadrillionaire client who had hired me years ago to develop a big, major transmedia project for which I was paid almost entirely in stock, went bankrupt leaving everyone holding the bag, and taking a huge chunk of my future retirement fund with it.

I wrote a very snarky almost hilarious Patreon post about it, but am not entirely in a position to speak freely because I don't want to get sued. Even though I had to go to court over it, (and I had to do that over Zoom at dial-up speed,) I'm pretty sure I'll never get anything out of this drama, and neither will anyone else involved, except millionaire dude and his buddies who all walked away with huge multi-million dollar bonuses weeks before they declared bankruptcy, all the while claiming they would not declare bankruptcy.

Even the accountant got $250,000 a month to shut down the business, while creators got nothing.

That in itself was enough drama for the year, but we were only at February by that point, and with all those months left, 2023 had a lot more to throw at me.

Fresh from my return from my Society of Illustrators show, and a lovely time at MOCCA, it was time to face practical medical issues, health updates, screening, and the like. I did my adult duty and then went back to work hoping for no news, but still had a weird feeling there would be news.

I know everyone says that, but I mean it. I had a bad feeling.

Then there was news.

I was called back for tests and more tests. This took weeks. The ubiquitous biopsy looked, even to me staring at the screen in real time, like bad news.

It also hurt like a mofo after the anesthesia wore off. I wasn't expecting that.

Then I got the official bad news.

Cancer which runs in my family finally got me. Frankly, I was surprised I didn't get it sooner.

Stage 0, and treatment would likely be fast and complication-free. Face the peril, get it over with, and get back to work.

I requested surgery months in the future so I could finish Good Omens first, but my doc convinced me the risk of waiting was too great. Get it done now.

"You're really healthy," my doc said. Despite an auto-immune issue which plagues me, I am way healthier than the average schmoe of late middle age. She informed me I would not even need any chemo or radiation if I took care of this now.

So I canceled my appearance at San Diego Comic Con. I did not inform the Good Omens team of my issues right away, thinking this would not interfere with my work schedule, but I did contact my agent to inform her of the issue. I also contacted a lawyer to rewrite my will and make sure the team had access to my digital files in case there were complications.

Then I got back to work, and hoped for the best.

Eff this guy.

Before I could even plant my carcass on the surgery table, I got a massive case of ocular shingles.

I didn't even know there was such a thing.

There I was, minding my own business. I go to bed one night with a scratchy eye, and by 4 PM the next day, I was in the emergency room being told if I didn't get immediate specialist treatment, I was in big trouble.

I got transferred to another hospital and got all the scary details, with the extra horrid news that I could not possibly have cancer surgery until I was free of shingles, and if I did not follow a rather brutal treatment procedure - which meant super-painful eye drops every half hour, twenty-four hours a day and daily hospital treatment - I could lose the eye entirely, or be blinded, or best case scenario, get permanent eye damage.

What was even funnier (yeah, hilarity) is the drops are so toxic if you don't use the medication just right, you can go blind anyway.

Hi Ho.

Ulcer is on the right. That big green blob.

I had just finished telling my cancer surgeon I did not even really care about getting cancer, was happy it was just stage zero, had no issues with scarring, wanted no reconstruction, all I cared about was my work.

Just cut it out and get me back to work.

And now I wondered if I was going to lose my ability to work anyway.

Shingles often accompanies cancer because of the stress on the immune system, and yeah, it's not pretty. This is me looking like all heck after I started to get better.

The first couple of weeks were pretty demoralizing as I expected a straight trajectory to wellness. But it was up and down all the way.

Some days I could not see out of either eye at all. The swelling was so bad that I had to reach around to my good eye to prop the lid open. Light sensitivity made seeing out of either eye almost impossible. Outdoors, even with sunglasses, I had to be led around by the hand.

I had an amazing doctor. I meticulously followed his instructions, and I think he was surprised I did. The treatment is really difficult, and if you don't do it just right no matter how painful it gets, you will be sorry.

To my amazement, after about a month, my doctor informed me I had no vision loss in the eye at all. "This never happens," he said.

I'd spent a couple of weeks there trying to learn to draw in the near-dark with one eye, and in the end, I got all my sight back.

I could no longer wear contact lenses (I don't really wear them anyway, unless I'm going to the movies,) would need hard core sun protection for awhile, and the neuralgia and sun sensitivity were likely to linger. But I could get back to work.

I have never been more grateful in my life.

Neuralgia sucks, by the way, I'm still dealing with it months later.

Anyway, I decided to finally go ahead and tell the Good Omens team what was going on, especially since this was all happening around the time the Kickstarter was gearing up.

Now that I was sure I'd passed the eye peril, and my surgery for Stage 0 was going to be no big deal, I figured all was a go. I was still pretty uncomfortable and weak, and my ideal deadline was blown, but with the book not coming out for more than a year, all would be OK. I quit a bunch of jobs I had lined up to start after Good Omens, since the project was going to run far longer than I'd planned.

Everybody on the team was super-nice, and I was pretty optimistic at this time. But work was going pretty slow during, as you may imagine.

But again...lots of lead time still left, go me.

Then I finally got my surgery.

Which was not as happy an experience as I had been hoping for.

My family said the doc came out of the operating room looking like she'd been pulled backwards through a pipe, She informed them the tumor which looked tiny on the scan was "...huge and her insides are a mess."

Which was super not fun news.

Eff this guy.

The tumor was hiding behind some dense tissue and cysts. After more tests, it was determined I'd need another surgery and was going to have to get further treatments after all.

The biopsy had been really painful, but the discomfort was gone after about a week, so no biggee. The second surgery was, weirdly, not as painful as the biopsy, but the fatigue was big time.

By then, the Good Omens Kickstarter had about run its course, and the record-breaker was both gratifying and a source of immense social pressure.

I'd already turned most of my social media over to an assistant, and I'm glad I did.

But the next surgery was what really kicked me on my keister.

All in all, they took out an area the size of a baseball. It was hard to move and wiped me out for weeks and weeks. I could not take care of myself. I'd begun losing hair by this time anyway, and finally just lopped it off since it was too heavy for me to care for myself. The cut hides the bald spots pretty well.

After about a month, I got the go-ahead to travel to my show at the San Diego Comic Con Museum (which is running until the first week of April, BTW). I was very happy I had enough energy to do it. But as soon as I got back, I had to return to treatment.

Since I live way out in the country, going into the city to various hospitals and pharmacies was a real challenge. I made more than 100 trips last year, and a drive to the compounding pharmacy which produced the specialist eye medicine I could not get anywhere else was six hours alone.

Naturally, I wasn't getting anything done during this time.

But at least my main hospital is super swank.

The oncology treatment went smoothly, until it didn't. The feels don't hit you until the end. By then I was flattened.

So flattened that I was too weak to control myself, fell over, and smashed my face into some equipment.

Nearly tore off my damn nostril.

Eff this guy.

Anyway, it was a bad year.

Here's what went right.

I have a good health insurance policy. The final tally on my health care costs ended up being about $150,000. I paid about 18% of that, including insurance. I had a high deductible and some experimental medicine insurance didn't cover. I had savings, enough to cover the months I wasn't working, and my Patreon is also very supportive. So you didn't see me running a Gofundme or anything.

Thanks to everyone who ever bought one of my books.

No, none of that money was Good Omens Kickstarter money. I won't get most of my pay on that for months, which is just as well because it kept my taxes lower last year when I needed a break.

So, yay.

My nose is nearly healed. I opted out of plastic surgery, and it just sealed up by itself. I'll never be ready for my closeup, but who the hell cares.

I got to ring the bell.

I had a very, VERY hard time getting back to work, especially with regard to focus and concentration. My work hours dropped by over 2/3. I was so fractured and weak, time kept slipping away while I sat in the studio like a zombie. Most of the last six months were a wash.

I assumed focus issues were due (in part) to stress, so sought counseling. This seemed like a good idea at first, but when the counselor asked me to detail my issues with anxiety, I spent two weeks doing just that and getting way more anxious, which was not helpful.

After that I went EFF THIS NOISE, I want practical tools, not touchy feelies (no judgment on people who need touchy-feelies, I need a pragmatic solution and I need it now,) so tried using the body doubling focus group technique for concentration and deep work.

Within two weeks, I returned to normal work hours.

I got rural broadband, jumping me from dial up speed to 1 GB per second.

It's a miracle.

Massive doses of Vitamin D3 and K2. Yay.

The new computer works great.

The Kickstarter did so well, we got to expand the graphic novel to 200 pages. Double yay.

I'm running late, but everyone on the Good Omens team is super supportive. I don't know if I am going to make the book late or not, but if I do, well, it surely wasn't on purpose, and it won't be super late anyway. I still have months of lead time left.

I used to be something of a social media addict, but now I hardly ever even look at it, haven't been directly on some sites in over a year, and no longer miss it. It used to seem important and now doesn't.

More time for real life.

While I think the last year aged me about twenty years, I actually like me better with short hair. I'm keeping it.

OK. Rough year.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Back to work on The Book.

And only a day left to vote for Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, and Sandman in the Comicscene Awards. Thanks.

#good omens graphic novel #good omens #terry pratchett #neil gaiman #dunmanifestin

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greenishghostey · 1 year

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The Gang's All Here

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Your friends had told you on several occasions that still having stuffed animals on your bed at twenty years old would be a boner killer for your boyfriend. Luckily, your boyfriend made up elves and orcs on the regular. Some stuffed animals weren't gonna scare him off so easily.

Word Count: 4,979 (2,200 of this is the smut, im sorry)

Warnings: 18+ content MDNI, graphic smut, p in v, protected sex, face sitting/riding, enthusiastic pussy eating, fluffy smut, sort of sub!Eddie, extensive dirty talk, this guy cannot shut up ever, established relationship, enthusiastic consent (everyone's having a grand ol' time), a lot of affection, the stuffed animals don't watch, I think that's all please let me know if I missed anything!

Author's Note: Hi everyone, I wrote fluffy filthy again! This came from me seeing one of those Eddie + text post pictures saying, "she let me hit because I was polite to her squishmallows". That is why this exists. Please enjoy because this was so much fun to write! Also, I know that this definitely isn't an original idea, I think I've read fics similar to this but can't think of the exact ones right now. But, I know they're out there. DO NOT REPOST OR EDIT MY WORK

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Being 20 years old and still living with your parents in the sleepy town of Hawkins wasn’t anything to sniff at. Some people have to work a little after high school before packing up and moving anywhere else. It also helped that you had a boyfriend who was on his third try at senior year. He was a pretty cool reason to stick around your dull hometown. Eddie made it all a bit more colourful.

You and Eddie had been dating for a few months. You had been friendly in high school, but then he started flirting with you when he came into the grocery store. Eddie was a smooth talker when he wanted to be, and it had worked on you. He had knocked over a candy bar rack at your register but also had cleaned it all up. The sweetheart that he was.

Your relationship was great. It was adorable. It was intimate. It was healthy. You guys were best friends and told each other every little thing, regardless of how insignificant it may seem. Eddie told you about his passion for writing and about his family. You told him about your future plans beyond Hawkins - him hopefully being included - and your past and present knitting projects. He wanted a burgundy hat and scarf set for his birthday. A bobble hat was preferred - he wasn’t sure if those were hard to make, so he wasn’t too picky.

However, there was one thing that you had kept from Eddie. You had worked pretty hard to hide away this tiny part of yourself whenever he came to your house. Shoving the incriminating objects into a box at the back of your closet, even though it pained you to do so.

It was embarrassing to be 20 years old and still have a beloved little group of stuffed animals perched on your bed. Well, that’s what your friends had told you anyway. No guy would want to fuck a girl while a fluffy lizard, Reggie, from the Indianapolis zoo, is staring at him.

In addition to little Reg, there were three others. Woolia, a fleecy sheep that you got on your third birthday. Jules, a light blue dolphin with big shiny eyes. Finally, there was Mimi, a fluffy white unicorn that had been with you since birth.

The soft animals had been with you through thick and thin for the majority of your life. First days of school, homework meltdowns, the day you figured out what boys were. All of the essential milestones had been witnessed by their little plastic eyes. They were as much your family as your parents were.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to let Eddie know about them in any capacity. Hiding them away was a tedious task. If Eddie said he would pick you up from work, you’d shove them in the box before you left for your shift. If Eddie stopped by, you’d tell him you had to tidy your room before he could come in. He always laughed and insisted that he would be fine if your room were like a bomb site. He was too modest for his own good, but he still wasn’t seeing your fluffy little secrets.

You had just dragged yourself home from a, quite frankly, hellish evening shift. Your shift was supposed to finish at 9, but your manager had bitched at you enough to make you stay for an extra hour. Fridays from 5-8 were discount hours and the time frame when everyone came to buy their weekend booze. Older people were horrendous when their favourite beer brand was out of stock - like you had personally gone to the trouble of buying every pallet of the dishwater piss just to be annoying.

There was some Chinese takeout in the microwave for you since your parents had headed off to their respective night shifts at the hospital. You balanced two boxes - sesame chicken and chow mein - with a can of Pepsi in your arms as you dashed up the stairs to your bedroom. Fresh pyjamas were waiting for you, Eddie had lent you his copy of Fellowship of The Ring, and you were so ready to turn your brain off and-

“Honey, you’re home!” The chipper voice almost made you drop everything. A chill ran down your spine, and, honestly, you felt like you were going to start eroding away into the atmosphere from humiliation. Eddie was lounging on your bed, his waves splayed over your pillows, and soft animals moved carefully to be at his sides - two on each side, making sure no one felt left out. “What you got in the boxes? And can we share?”

You stood at the foot of your bed, taking in the weirdly domestic image in front of you, “why are you here?” you asked, voice sounding distant.

Eddie’s brows furrowed, and he began to sit up, “Should’ve asked first, knew I should’ve. Sorry, just thought it would be all romantic and shit, ya know.” He mumbled. Eddie looked very dejected. Had he overstepped a boundary? Did you want your alone time? God, he could be so dumb sometimes when it came to you.

Shaking your head, you moved to put down the takeout boxes and your bag, “No, no. Don’t worry,” you smiled, patting his thigh as you passed him, “just wasn’t expecting to see you all comfortable and cosy there with - with all that.”

“I am pretty comfy. These lil guys kept me company until you got back.” Eddie beamed, practically melting into your sheets and gesturing to your stuffed animals. Did he like them? He didn’t think it was weird that you still had them. Your expression showed that your mind was running a mile a minute when you really should be starting to relax. He knew that evening shifts were the pits for you. “How come I’ve never met the gang before?”

“The gang?” You snorted, pulling off your sports jacket and throwing it on your clothes chair, “I just thought it was a little kiddy to still have stuffed animals on my bed. Was worried you’d - I dunno.”

“Worried I’d what? You know who you’re talking to?” Eddie raised his eyebrows, fixing you with a look that made you squirm, “some fluffy little secrets aren’t gonna scare me off, promise.”

“You sure you don’t think they’re weird?” Your voice wasn’t more than a mumble as you sat down beside him on the bed, “the girls said they’re kind of a boner killer.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, and he started to wriggle his way over to you to lay his head in your lap. When he was in this type of mood - a big softie mood - you had to wonder why you thought he’d care about some stuffed toys. Those thoughts didn’t soothe your anxiety entirely, though; you would need to hear the confirmation from him - potentially in writing, for your own sanity. His big, molasses eyes stared up at you with a determined look. God, he was going to monologue in a minute, and it was going to be correct, and you would feel all mushy.

“I want names, place of origin, and lore if you got any,” Eddie stated, counting on each of his fingers to really hammer in his point and make it clear that he was interested. It warmed your heart in a way you hadn’t felt since your first date with him. Of course, the guy warmed your very soul on a near-daily basis. But when he showed just how much he cared, it made the butterflies in your stomach go haywire. “We’re starting with the sheep. Obviously. Give me the deets.” He picked up Woolia and placed her on his chest, arranging her hooves properly.

You couldn’t fight back the grin that spread from ear to ear. Your fingers gently carded through Eddie’s hair as you introduced him to the ‘gang’ “This is Woolia.”

Eddie barked out a laugh at the name, not in malice but in a combination of pride and pleasant surprise, “I never knew you were so creative, babe.”

“Shut up. Do you want the full run down or not?” You teased, flickering his forehead lightly until he stopped laughing. “As I was saying, I’ve had Woolia since I was 3. My grandma got her for me when she went to Wyoming.”

“A Wyomingite? Christ, it’s a good thing she’s cute.” Eddie grimaced, moving the small sheep from his chest and putting her back in her original place. He was so careful with her - you usually squished her in your sleep and woke up with her under your tailbone. “Green gecko dude next.”

Reggie was whisked from his spot and placed onto Eddie’s chest, now the introduction stage for your stuffed animals. You had been so concerned about being embarrassed if Eddie ever caught wind of them. Yet here he was, demanding all information on each of them individually.

“This is Reggie, short for Reginald Von Scales II,” you were interrupted by yet another loud chuckle from Eddie. He was having the time of his life - he might have to start asking you to help with character names for this campaign. “Yeah, I’m hilarious, I know. Anyway, I got Reggie when I was eight and went to the big zoo in Indianapolis with my parents. All the stuffed animals in the gift shop were begging to be taken home. My dad said since I was good, I could get anyone I wanted. Reggie was hidden at the back of a shelf, and I knew I had to get him when I saw him.”

Talking about the origins of these soft creatures was nostalgic and brought a warmness to your body that was relaxing. So many great memories were linked to the toys, and now you’d have a new one with Eddie there.

“Hey, he’s kinda like me! You could’ve had your pick of guys around here, but you chose little ol’ me.” Eddie enthused. He blinked his eyelashes up at you and wiggled his eyebrows - screw Woolia; it was a good thing he was cute. “You got me from the very, very back of the man shelf. Like, you must have been digging for some weird shit to get - well, this.” He gestured to himself.

Your gaze softened. He wasn’t “weird shit”. He wasn’t just any guy. Sure, he was pushed to the back of the line when it came to discussing eligible bachelors around Hawkins, but he was all yours now. That’s all that mattered. “I’ve got specific, immaculate taste, and I’ll be damned if it wasn’t being met.” You stated matter of factly.

“Aw, you always know how to make a dude swoon.” Eddie sighed dreamily. Christ, he was a mushy idiot. If anyone saw him like this, his reputation would be in the toilet. “Reggie is the running for the favourite. Let’s see what blue boy here can bring to the table.” Eddie made the switch between Reggie and Jules, the extra soft dolphin.

“Jules is just… Jules. Got both boy and girl vibes, if I’m honest.” You explained, shrugging at Eddie, who nodded in understanding, “Got them in a thrift store with my mom when I was five, I think? Another case of a toy sitting on a shelf and me deciding to call forever dibs.”

A giddy smirk appeared on Eddie’s face, “you’ve got a thing for picking up strays, huh?” He was wiggling his eyebrows again, so you flicked his forehead again.

“Stop acting like you’re some flea-infested cat. I’ll get mad.” You huffed, trying your best to sound genuinely stern with him, but it definitely didn’t work. You ran your thumb across his knuckles as he started poking Jules’ squishy head.

Eddie took hold of your offered hand and kissed the back of it, “fine, I’ll quit bad-mouthing your man.”

“Thank you very much. Now, onto Mimi.”

“I did save the unicorn for last,” You knew that. If there was anything to do with the high fantasy genre, Eddie would be all over it. Even the pretty magic horses.

“She is the oldest of the bunch. Been perched by those pillows since before I can remember.” You informed, fixing a stray tuft of hair on her bright mane. “My mom has a ton of photos of me carrying her around everywhere.”

Eddie looked at the unicorn toy with a distinct fondness, a soft smile and an even softer gaze.

“What’s got you all smiley?”

“Nothin’, that’s just really sweet, is all. Mimi’s had your back forever.” You didn’t know if you wanted to kiss or smother him with a pillow. He was too fucking adorable when he was like this.

“I guess she has, yeah.” You breathed, running your fingers through Eddie’s hair again, “What do you think of the gang then?”

“Big, big fan. I think Reg is my favourite. He’s got that underdog vibe going on, which I respect.” Eddie leaned over and tried to give the gecko plush a fist bump with his finger.

You weren’t sure what came over you. A warmth had been stirring inside you since Eddie put his head on your lap and was polite to your stuffed animals. He listened closely and handled them like they were valuable to him too. The intimacy of this whole situation was not lost on you. If anything, you were far too aware of it. Eddie loved you and your quirks the same way you loved him and his.

You bit your bottom lip slightly and turned to glance down at the blissful man in your lap.

“C’mere a sec,” Eddie said, leaning up on his elbows. You knew what “c’mere” meant, so you let Eddie place one of his hands on the back of your head, bringing your lips together. The kiss was so sweet. The usual saccharine kisses that the town’s resident satan worshipper was a big fan of laying on you at any opportunity. Eddie’s lips were always soft as his kiss became firmer.

He pulled away by a hair to sit back against your pillows and guided you to straddle his thighs before diving back into your waiting, wanting mouth. You were hungrier for him now. The warmth in your stomach was being fueled as Eddie ran his hands up your thighs to rest of your ass. Feeling the fat and groaning when you shifted your hips - your ass and thighs drove the poor guy mad, and you loved it.

Your eyes opened slightly to make sure you closed your bedroom door but made contact with Mimi's big, black plastic eyes. Quickly, you pulled away from Eddie with heaving pants. It felt like torture to let him go at that moment. The stiff bulge of his cock pressing into your clothed cunt. Yeah, the gang was going to have to move - and move quickly.

“Wait, wait, Eddie,” You panted, clambering off his lap.

“What? You good? Did I get the wrong hole?” Eddie rambled, sitting up abruptly and looking more than a little frazzled. He was all rosy cheeks and glossy eyes, and he had to ruin it by thinking it’d simulated anal. So charming.

“No, you’d know if you’d done that, trust me,” You said as you gently placed your plush friends on the carpet, far away from your bed and facing the wall. It wasn’t a comfortable position, but they would have to deal with it while you rode your boyfriend until he screamed.

“Ah. You don’t want an audience, I gotcha,” Eddie nodded, winking at you from his spot on your bed. Satisfied with the gang’s relocation, you turned back to Eddie, pulling off your work shirt and getting to work on your jeans.

Eddie quickly got the hint and nearly ripped his baseball tee while trying to get it over his head fast enough. His belt was launched somewhere in your room as he opened his arms to welcome you back onto his lap. Your hungry mouth again devoured his in a wet kiss, full of groans and rapid breaths. Eddie made quick work on your bra, having become intimately acquainted with this particular nude one. It was an old faithful that you didn’t want him to see as much as he did, but that’s just how getting naked seemed to go for you both.

You threw yourself onto the mattress beside Eddie and started to claw at your jeans to get them off. Eddie followed suit as you were both in a tangle of legs and denim, fidgeting desperately to get that glorious skin-to-skin contact.

Once down to your underwear, you grabbed Eddie’s head and pulled him in so you could lick, kiss and nibble at his pulse point. He really loved it when you got grabby and roughed him up a little. The lack of control over your own strength had his cock twitching in his boxers.

“Can we do that thing, please?” You sighed, running your fingers up and down Eddie’s chest. Fuck, you were sweating and close to humping your cunt into Eddie’s erection - chasing friction that only he could give you.

Eddie moaned when your fingertips grazed his nipples, his darkened eyes struggling to say open, “Which one? There’s a couple. We can do anything you want, babe.” You could punch him, kick him or rip his hair out right now and he’d be so cool with it.

Eddie was finally getting to experience heaven. The god squad of Hawkins would be so jealous of him. You wrapped your legs around his waist and rolled him onto his back with a bounce, pinning him and shooting him a toothy grin.

“Me riding you. Everywhere. Face, cock. Sound like a plan?” You chirped, wiggling your hips how he liked it. Faking some innocence in the moment was too fun to pass up. Plus, riling Eddie up was a surefire way to make him lose his mind in the best ways.

Eddie nodded so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, “Amazing idea. God, my lady’s so smart.” He grabbed the backs of your thighs and pulled you towards his head while he shifted his body down the bed. Eating your cunt was one of Eddie’s favourite pastimes, but it was so much better when you rode his face and used him to get yourself off.

You had forgotten to pull your panties off before straddling your boyfriend’s head. Usually, this would have led to you fiddling and contorting yourself to get them off.

Not today, though. Eddie just grabbed the lace trim, yanked them to the side, so they bit into your ass cheek and shoved his face into your dripping cunt.

“Fuck yes, thank you,” Eddie groaned before licking and sucking your clit. He was like a man starved as he groped and massaged your ass, making sure you wouldn’t hold back on him.

You let your head lull back as your mouth opened in a silent moan, your hips beginning to grind and ride his full lips and hot tongue. The wet, sloppy sounds of Eddie, essentially making out with your hole and clit brought a feral smile to your face. God, he always made you smile so big that your face hurt in the best way.

Eddie started shaking his head between your legs, his tongue circling your hole before returning to flicking your puffy, needy clit.

“Still can’t believe you let me do this,” Eddie sighed, saliva and your wet covering his flushed lips, “‘m I making you feel good, sweetheart?”

Your moans were getting louder and more hoarse as Eddie started to move your hips himself, urging you to use him. You loved when he talked like that - his tongue, his lips, his voice. His mouth was everything.

“Y-Yes, yes. You really want me to drench your pretty face, huh?” You giggled, sweet sighs of ecstasy huffing from your throat. Eddie whined while his tongue fucked you. “Pretty, pretty boy - fuck, please.”

“Shit - yeah, you taste fucking incredible. Gimme it all, babe, ah fuck.”

Eddie doubled down his efforts. Straining his neck a little to fuck up into you with more force and precision. You were leaking down his chin and making yourself all sticky. A blissful state, full of love and affection. Eddie huffed a laugh on your cunt as he saw the dreamy smirk on your lips.

Groaning, whining, cursing. You two must have sounded like animals in heat as the springs in your mattress started to bounce and squeak. The room was that familiar warm - cosy, somewhat comfortable sweat and the smell of sex.

Eddie forced your cunt down more onto his face. He would gladly suffocate right then and there. He needed your cum before you rode him because he knew he wouldn’t last long. Eddie liked the mess; it was filthy and made him feel so alive. But the lady has to finish first, and then you keep going until she nearly rips your damn head off. Eddie got that tip from a magazine one time.

“Christ, you’re so so good - fuck, Eddie, your mouth!” You growled. You tended to make much deeper sounds when you were close. Eddie felt like he was going to blow his load in his boxers. “Just a little m-more.”

“Uh huh, uh huh,” Eddie chanted wetly, “Please - soak my pretty face.”

That did it.

Your hands knotted further into Eddie’s sweaty hair and gripped it like a lifeline as you wailed your release. He always liked when you pulled his hair. It made his eyes roll back in such a beautiful way. That was no different now. Big brown eyes were glazed over as they rolled into Eddie’s skull; you could feel a smug smile on his face. You gave him all of you, just like he wanted. You were the fucking best.

You moved down Eddie’s torso in panting silence to straddle him again. You couldn’t wait for him to get his boxers off entirely, so you pulled them down enough for his swollen cock to slap against his stomach. It had become a talent of yours to make quick yet effective work of getting a condom on. Eddie fucking you raw was going to be on the table at some point, just not tonight. Too risky.

Fuck, he felt like he was going to scream or melt or just-

There was a distinct, sloppy slap. Followed by two even louder cries of pleasure. You knew that Eddie would slip inside you without any resistance. You needed him too much.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re spoiling me today.” Eddie giggled, staring up at you through heavy lids. “Do I get all this because I was friendly with the gang?” He settled back into your pillows and basked in the warm embrace of your cunt.

You mewled at the feeling of being so full - it may have sounded shallow, but you loved his cock so goddamn much. “You were just so damn polite to ‘em. It’s hot seeing you be all sweet and caring.”

“They’re important to you, ‘course I’m gonna be polite.” Eddie laughed. “They’ve taken care of you for ages, and now it’s my job to help out, right?” He smoothed his thumbs across your hips.

“Eddie…” you sighed, caressing his face. His dreamy, beautiful, smug face. He was just so good to you and to the world. It always hurt that you were one of the few who truly understood that he had a heart of gold, in addition to being a weirdo. But he was your weirdo. “Love ya, Munson.”

After your tooth-rotting words reached his ears, you started to grind down onto his stiff length. Eddie couldn’t do much, but he groaned in agreement with you. He never knew how good being ridden could feel without any bouncing. Sure, he adored when you bounced on his cock, chasing your high and fueling his, but there was a sensuality to the circle of your hips. The sight of you making his cock massage your g-spot was one he wanted to be tattooed behind his eyelids.

“How you doing down there, sweetheart?” You smiled, alternating between bouncing and swivelling. He had to give him some form of reward, “please soak my face,” that was such a good line. Damn, he was good.

Eddie let out a shaky groan and stared at where his cock disappeared into your cunt. When you called him sweetheart, he didn’t know what to do with himself. The flush that covered his upper body was rosy and fiery. “Fabulous as always.” He chuckled and shot you a bright grin. “I really don’t tell you enough how much I love your pussy. And she loves me.”

“You’re so weird,” You snorted, running your hands through the sparse hair on his chest. “She’s gonna care really good care you.”

Eddie started to wonder if god finally decided to smile down on him as you started to ride him properly. The wet squelch of fucking filled his ears alongside your beautiful laughs and moans. He could see the slick from your cunt on his throbbing cock as you moved. Watching you in your element, so happy, on top of him, was hypnotic. Eddie would never cease to be mesmerised by you and your body. He began to thrust his hips up to meet your carefully curated rhythm.

Your head fell back, and your jaw swung open when you met at the perfect angle, at the perfect time. “Oh. My god - yeah, yes, Ed-” you called out. You were so happy that both of your parents had taken night shifts.

Eddie’s thrust began more forceful, faster, as he moved to push his feet into your mattress for leverage. He was a sweaty, whining mess under you, but he was still going to try and do a little bit of the work. “Uh huh, use me. Fuck, fucking shit - cum on me again.” He was rambling like a horny maniac, smiling like one too. He was having the time of his life. A pretty lady who loved him and had cute stuffed animals was riding him until he wanted to scream. What more could a dude ask for?

“Don’t stop - don’t stop talking. Fuck.” Yeah, you were losing your mind. Sex with Eddie always came with a satisfaction guarantee, but it was his dirty mouth that sealed the deal for you most of the time. “Does my pussy feel good?”

The harsh slapping of his balls hitting your ass richoted off the walls. Eddie wasn’t going to be lasting much longer by any means. “So - so good. She’s leaking all over me, such a good girl.”

Now he was just trying to be annoying. It was working very well.

“Am I a good girl too?” You groaned, lightly gripping Eddie’s jaw so he could look you in the eye. The pace of your fucking had reached its peak. How you were still speaking in sentences was a mystery. Eddie was hitting your g-spot at the best angle and slipping deeper inside you every time you slammed your hips down.

“Yeah, f-fuck. But, you’re a woman too.” Eddie slurred, loving the feeling of you keeping his eyes fixed on you. His left hand moved between you to rub your swollen clit in fast circles. Again, sensuality is what really did it for him. He would call you a good girl until he was blue in the face. But it was the fact that you were a full woman that warmed his blood - and his heart. All soft body, whispy hair everywhere, and markings on your skin showing how you’d grown into the person he got to love. “Mine,” he whined the word like prayer.

“‘M your woman, huh?” This was going to be over soon, but you needed a few more words out of him. “Then you’re my man, all mine.” You leaned down to whisper straight into his ear, followed by a long lick up the column of his throat - tasting the salty sweat dripping off of him.

“Oh, oh god - yeah, ‘m yours, baby.” Eddie grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into a scolding kiss. All tongue and saliva, but neither of you cared. This is always how it went. Right when you were both on the precipice of orgasm, start making out furiously. His cock was pounding into you, trying to mould your puffy walls to the shape of him. Eddie could feel his heart hammering and his eyes rolling back - he was almost there and so were you.

“All. Yours.” Eddie punctuated each word with a hard, impossibly deep thrust. Then he was a goner. Shooting ropes of cum into the condom and moaned like a girl in the porn he watched sometimes.

You could feel the pulsing heat of him in your stomach. His nimble fingers were still focused on your clit. He always knew how to make you melt. So, melt you did. The world exploded into white, and you screamed into Eddie’s neck as your orgasm shook your body.

The aftershocks of bliss left you both shaky and panting like you had run a marathon. You had already collapsed on Eddie’s chest as he started rubbing your scalp with his calloused fingers - the added roughness provided a good scratch. Your heart was hammering like his, each keeping pace with the other in the afterglow of that near-religious experience. You snuggled into his touch and trailed your fingers down the bridge of his nose, feeling his beauty and memorising the dips and peaks of his face - for what may have been the hundredth time.

Eddie shifted to catch your wandering hand and covered it in small pecks up to your wrist. “So, you got any more members of the gang to introduce? I’d love an audience with a penguin if I’m being honest.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #fic #smut #fluff #my writing #yeah this is actual filthy #or at least the best im capable of at the moment #enjoy!!!

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ggukiepie · 6 months

Text

the agreement (drabble i)

pairing: jungkook x fem. oc

tags: smut, fluff, college!au, fuckboy!jk, this is a flashback !!!! how it all began for our ooyg couple <3, mentions of cheating (brief)

warnings: kissing, fingering, a lil bit of breast play, protected sex, missionary, oral, multiple orgasms

word count: 5k

a/n: surprise !!! wrote this way long ago, here we get a glimpse of oc and jk's dynamic as friends <33 enjoy ! can be read as a standalone / part 1 / part 2

..••°°°°••..°°••….••°°..••°°°°••..

Jihyo forced all of you to have a picnic—to sit on the grass and not at some table like you all usually do. Especially since midterms just ended. Said everyone needs a little breather, some change of scenery. She assigned things to bring. Said she wants to have a picnic for the vibes. Or the aesthetic. You're not really sure but you comply nonetheless (and Mingyu threatened all of you to bring the stuff you're assigned to bring, or else you're not allowed in his car anymore). You think she's doing something cutesy like this because you all haven't seen each other in a while, been so swamped with exams and projects to submit.

You're sitting on a red and white picnic blanket—brought by Jihyo of course—enjoying the food brought by Jimin and Jungkook. It's just take out, really, but it's the effort those two boys did that make it a little special. You're in charge of the dessert and you can't wait to eat the cookies you baked.

You're wearing a dress to complete the vibes, one with a floral design and a sweetheart neckline. It doesn't really differ from your usual outfits but you don't mind. You feel the sun shining down on your shoulders as you're listening to Jungkook and Mingyu bicker about who's turn it is to wash the dishes.

"Stop fighting!" Jihyo finally says as the two start picking the pepperoni off the pizza and are chucking it at each other. Jihyo's not really mad because you can see she's trying not to smile, not to laugh, too enamored with Mingyu. They recently had just gotten together so they're still in the honeymoon stage. But you think they're endgame and will be like that forever. You wish you had a love like that. You're not looking for it now though, you know it'll come at the right time.

What stops Mingyu and Jungkook bickering is Jimin shouting that it's time for dessert. You laugh at your friends as they all make a grab for the tupperwares where your baked goodies are. You make good cookies. It's one thing you're proud of. You've made enough for everyone so you remind them of that. Still, it doesn't stop Jungkook and Jihyo from fighting over the last cookie. You only have a small piece for yourself. You have some extra back at your place, for you and for a certain someone who always asks for extra.

"You have more right?" Jungkook whispers from beside you. The others are busy eating and chatting away so they don't hear you both.

You smile and nod your head, too shy to say anything. You've always been like that with Jungkook—shy and speechless. Caught off guard. Even though you've been friends for a year and he's been nothing but nice to you. It's just the natural charm he has, which is why he has a lot of girls falling for him. You get them, even though you don't feel the same way.

Jungkook and you aren't as close as he is with Mingyu. But you're close enough that it's not weird to walk to class with him alone, or to grab coffee together before meeting up with your other friends.

Or for him to follow you right back to your apartment, trailing behind you like a puppy because he wants some cookies to take home.

"You going to the party later?" Jungkook asks as you're putting cookies in a ziplock bag.

"Mhm," you hum. "Not like I got a choice. Jimin said we all had to go or he'll leave the group chat."

Jungkook laughs with you. Jimin is dramatic like that but you both know he never means his threats.

"I can pick you up? I'll be in the area later anyway."

You laugh and roll your eyes at him. "Got another date, huh?"

Jungkook has the audacity to look shy, hand coming to scratch the back of his neck as he thinks of what to say.

"You know I don't date. But yeah, got some thing with some girl. She's in that English class we have together."

You hum in acknowledgment. You don't know which girl he's talking about but it's typical of Jungkook to say something of the sort. You all know he doesn't date. Doesn't believe in love or whatever. You're not really sure. But that's Jungkook and you all love him nonetheless. He's caring and observant, always looking out for his friends, but every boy must have a flaw.

His is not believing in love. You think it's a flaw because you do believe in love and believe that everyone is supposed to experience it. Not platonic love. Romantic love. Butterflies in your tummy, hand holding. All that shit.

Eventually Jungkook leaves your apartment with a ziplock full of cookies. He hugs you before you go which leaves you a little flustered, even though he says hello and goodbye with a hug always. He's cute, you can't help it.

You clean your apartment the whole afternoon, then study with the remaining time you have left while having dinner at the same time. Jungkook says he'll pick you up at 10pm and he's a pretty punctual person. You have an hour to get ready and you do just that. You think you've worn too many floral dresses this week so you change it up a bit by wearing jeans and a cute flowy top. It's still you, so you're happy.

You hear a knock on the door and open it right away, getting a little breathless at the sight in front of you. Jungkook's in all black, as usual, and he unbuttoned his polo almost halfway so you get a good view of his chest.

"Hi," he greets, leaning in automatically to hug you. He smells like fresh laundry with a hint of vanilla perfume. It's probably from the girl he was with earlier.

"Hey," you greet back.

"Ready to go?" he asks. You nod your head and lock your door. You notice him looking you up and down so you furrow your brows, suddenly conscious with what you're wearing.

"Is there something wrong, Kook?"

Jungkook seems to snap out of whatever thought he's in as he shakes his head. "No," he laughs. "Just noticed you're not wearing one of your usual dresses."

"Oh," you simply say. You feel your cheeks heating and there's nothing you can do to stop it. "Just wanted something different for tonight."

"It's nice," he says quietly, hands in his pockets as you both make your way to the party. Jungkook switches sides with you on the sidewalk, makes sure he's walking on the outside. It's a sweet gesture. It's something he always does so you're not phased.

The party is in full swing, loud music playing and people are already drunk. Jungkook doesn't leave your side till you see your other friends. You're three shots in when you finally spot Jimin.

"Hi!" Jimin slurs as he makes his way to you and Jungkook, pulling you both in for a hug. He smells like tequila and you can't help but cringe. "You guys are here!"

The three of you take another shot, per Jimin's request, before he drags you to the other side of the house to meet his friends. You lose sight of Jungkook after that. You don't really mind because you're having fun, dancing with Jihyo, playing beer pong with her, Mingyu and Jimin.

The fun lasts till you bump into Eunwoo.

See, you and Eunwoo dated for a while. Probably just for three months. He was such a gentleman, so sweet and caring, that you were absolutely blindsided when he decided to break things off.

It's been a month since then. You're kind of over it, but it's pretty hard to get over a guy like Eunwoo. Still, he walks up to you the moment he spots you in the crowded room. Makes some small talk. Stands too close.

"How are you doing lately?" He has to lean in to speak and you can't help but feel flustered.

"Been okay," you say simply. Don't want to update him about your life anymore. There's not really a point.

"Listen—" he starts to say.

"Babe!"

You take a step back in surprise, the voice is high pitched and shrilly and you don't recognize who it is. A pretty blonde girl walks up to Eunwoo, wraps her arms around his shoulders and plants a big fat kiss on his cheeks.

"Been looking everywhere for you," she purrs.

"Just talking to an old friend," Eunwoo says, and the girl finally looks at you.

"Oh, hi!" she slurs. Can smell the alcohol right off her. "Didn't see you there. My name's Binna, I'm Eunwoos' girlfriend." She sticks her hand out and you shake it, trying not to let your eyebrows raise in surprise. It's the fact she didn't ask for your name which puts you off.

"We've been dating for two months now," she continues to say.

Okay, now your eyebrows raise in surprise. Well. You know what that means and suddenly you can't breathe, chest constricting and hands turning clammy. You say a quick goodbye and run off to the other side of the house. You try to look for a room that's not locked nor occupied.

You and Eunwoo broke up. It's been a month. He's had a girlfriend for two months. Do the math. Do the math. Do the math.

Maybe Jungkook's right. Maybe love isn't real.

"Ugh," you groan, barging into a tiny and dark room. There are washing machines on one side and dryers in another. The silence helps you calm your nerves a little bit.

You weren't that upset over the break up, but now you kinda are. Can't believe you weren't good enough for Eunwoo. Can't believe he cheated on you. Can't believe you didn't notice it. Didn't even have a gut feeling.

"Okay," you say to yourself. "It's okay. Life goes on. He wasn't the one and that's okay." You down the drink you've been holding and cringe at the strongness of the alcohol. Mingyu makes the worst drinks, but it does the job.

Your peace is interrupted when the door to the laundry room suddenly opens, makes a loud sound as it slams against the wall, and in comes Jungkook.

He doesn't see you so he literally crashes into you since he's running inside the room. You would've fallen were it not for his quick reflexes, one hand going around your waist and the other behind your head to save you from bumping into anything.

"What the fuck, Jungkook?" you almost scream.

"What the heck are you doing here?" he says right back.

It's silent for a moment as you both look at each other. Eventually, you roll your eyes and step away from his hold, choosing to lean on one of the washing machines. "Long fucking story."

You watch him as he hops up to sit on one of the dryers. "Well, I've got time."

You look at him weirdly. "Why are you here anyway?"

He shrugs, swings his feet in the air. "Was running away from some girl. She was weird."

You laugh and shake your head. Typical Jungkook.

"And you?" he asks.

You sigh, looking down to pick at a loose thread of your top. "Bumped into Eunwoo. Met his girlfriend. They've been dating for two months."

"Oh," Jungkook breathes out. It's silent for a moment.

One, two, three, four, five, six—

"Oh?" he says again. "But you guys broke up last month?"

You look at him pointedly in reply, too scared to verbalize anything. He gets it though, could see the recognition on his face.

"Do you want me to punch him?"

You scrunch your nose in disgust. "Ew, no. Don't do that, Kook. I don't want to deal with him anymore. No point anyway."

"Cheating sucks," he mumbles. You nod in agreement. "S'why I don't date." It's a little tidbit he shares about himself and you try to mask your surprise. Jungkook doesn't share much about himself.

"Should probably do the same," you joke.

"But you always date," he laughs.

"I do not!"

"It's literally your thing!"

"Dating is not my thing, Jungkook!"

You bicker back and forth for a while, you don't even know what you're both talking about anymore. But laughing with Jungkook eases the heartache in your chest so you don't mind.

"I just think it'd be fun," he explains, "and it'll help you forget about that douchebag. I hope you don't think I'm forcing you. I'm really not," Jungkook explains, a smile gracing his face. "You don't even have to answer me right now. Or—"

"Let's do it," you say, interrupting Jungkook. His eyes widen and it makes you laugh. You don't think you've ever seen him look so caught off guard.

"Are you sure because—"

"Yes, Kook! Need some change in my life. Maybe I shouldn't date for a while. I've never done anything like this before, so I want to try." You nod to yourself in affirmation.

He shrugs at you. "It's just hooking up. No strings attached."

"No strings attached," you repeat. "Just a one time thing," you mumble as Jungkook walks to where you're standing.

"We can say stop anytime, ok?" Jungkook says. His lips are so close to yours that you can feel his breath. "Just tell me."

You nod your head in reply, too speechless and distracted by the fact that his lips are so close to yours. It feels so exhilarating, the thought of almost kissing someone like this. No romantic ties or whatsoever.

"Words, sweetheart."

"Yeah," you breathe out, licking your lips in anticipation.

"You're so cute," he giggles, leaning in even more to nudge his nose against yours.

"You gonna kiss me or what, Kook?" you complain instead, to hide the fluttering feeling of your chest.

"Are you that eager to kiss me?" he teases.

You've never talked to him this close, noses bumping into each other, lips so close you could feel it move when he talks. You don't sleep with people you're not in a relationship with, but you suppose now is a perfect time to do otherwise. Cheating does suck.

Jungkook finally leans in and presses his lips against yours. You shiver at first because the first thing you feel is the coldness of his lip rings. Then you shiver even more because his lips feel so damn soft against yours. You feel his tongue licking your lips, asking in silent permission to let him in, and you do so willingly without any fight in at all.

You hear him grunt against your mouth when you finally tangle your tongue with his, and you yelp in tiny surprise when he grips your waist and effortlessly lifts you up to sit you on the dryer behind. He shuffles between your legs and pushes himself closer to you if that's even possible. His hands start roaming your body—your legs, your waist, your back. You feel hot all over and you pull at his hair to try to ground yourself.

You can't help but pout when he leans back to take a breath of air, and you realize you're breathless as well. Jungkook laughs at your pouting form, mumbling a quiet cute which has you rolling your eyes at him again.

"You're so bratty," he laughs, his hands rubbing up and down your waist mindlessly. "Maybe next time I have to teach you a thing or two about having manners."

"Who says there's going to be a next time?" you joke, but you look Jungkook in the eyes and he looks serious.

It's his turn to roll his eyes. "Come here," he simply says, and you don't fight him anymore as he goes back to kissing you. You feel him tugging at your top. "Can I take this off, pretty?" he asks. You simply nod and he takes it off from you quickly, eyes blowing out at the sight of your bare chest.

"Wow," he breathes out.

"They're just tits, Kook," you simply say, but you can't help but feel your heart racing at the look he's giving you. Like he wants to eat you whole.

"But you have nice tits," he replies back, eyes not leaving your chest. You start getting self conscious all of a sudden, had never had a guy in this position stare at your body for this long. You start bringing your hands up to cover yourself.

"Hey," he tuts, frowning so heavily his cheeks are puffed out. "Don't need to hide. It's just me." He gently brings your hands down and smiles at you, which makes you giggle in return.

"Don't think we can take our time here though," you say after a while. "Has to be quick."

Jungkook nods to himself, picking up your discarded top only to put it back on you. You look at him confusingly. You thought he'd just agree to a quickie given the place you're both in.

"You're right," he says. "We can go to your place?" he asks you.

You're too stunned to speak so you nod your head and hop down from the dryer. Jungkook interlaces his fingers with yours and you both walk back into the party only to leave the house. You try to ignore the stares you're getting, or the people whispering to each other as you and Jungkook pass by them. You're glad you don't bump into your friends.

It's silent as you walk to your apartment, but it isn't awkward. You feel his thumb rubbing your hand in a comforting matter, and it erases all doubts you have in your head. You're just here to have fun.

Eventually you get inside your apartment and you squeal the moment the door closes behind you both, because Jungkook picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. Walks quickly to your bed and drops you on it, kneeling right between your legs.

"Hi," you breathe out.

"Hello to you too," he says with a playful glint in his eye. "Now where were we?"

"We stopped right here," you say, feeling brave all of a sudden as you remove your top and throw the clothing somewhere behind you.

Again, Jungkook stares at your chest and licks his lips. "Right," he whispers. Then he makes eye contact with you and the lust and desire is suddenly gone. "We can stop anytime, okay?" he repeats his statement from earlier. "Like just tell me anytime and—"

"I get it, Kook!" you laugh, moving your leg to nudge his ribs which makes him laugh as well. "I heard you the first time." You continue poking his tummy with your foot.

"Okay, okay!" He grabs your leg to stop it from moving, brings your foot in front of his face. "Even your feet are cute." Then in sheer horror, he places a tiny kiss on your big toe.

"What the fuck!" you scream, trying to get your foot out of his hold but he's too strong. "Do you have a foot fetish or something?" you say through your laughs.

He apologizes but he doesn't look sorry one bit.

"Can we fuck, Jungkook?" you whine.

"Okay!" He smiles at you as he leans over, saying nothing else as he finally kisses you again. His hand slithers up to cup your boob and your back automatically arches in response. Then Jungkook kisses your cheek, down your jaw to your neck, then encloses his lips around your nipple.

"Oh," you moan out. You tug his hair again—it helps keep you sane. "Feels good."

Jungkook continues sucking your nipple, his other hand playing with your neglected breast. "Gonna take the rest of your clothes off, okay?" he says against your skin.

"Please," you whimper.

He smiles at your pliant form. "Seems like you do have some manners."

You're too fucked out already to talk back, just simply watch him as he removes your jeans and underwear. He moves down the bed to be eye level with your cunt and places a gentle kiss on your clit.

"Kook," you whine. "Please."

"Since you asked so nicely," he mumbles. He flattens his tongue and licks from your hole up to your clit, enclosing his lips around your bundle of nerves and he sucks. Hard.

"That feels so good," you breathe out. You don't think a guy has ever given you oral this good. You might even pass out from the intense pleasure you're feeling. You get it now. You get why a lot of girls fall for him. Why a lot want to sleep with him. You don't care that in this moment, you're just like the rest of them.

(Or maybe you're not. Jungkook did say your friendship with him won't change.)

You feel him nibble slightly on your clit and it sends your eyes rolling back, hips meeting his mouth to practically hump his face.

"What the fuck," you moan out just as Jungkook slides one finger inside you, curling it instantly to look for the spot that'll drive you insane.

He finds it right away and you see stars. "Can I come?" you whisper. "Please, please." You don't care one bit that you sound so desperate right now, you just want to feel that release. Want to feel good. Want to let go.

Jungkook detaches his lips from your clit and smirks at you. "Go ahead, pretty girl. Want you to feel good."

You close your eyes and pull at his hair even harder. You're so close to climaxing that you barely hear Jungkook moaning.

"Fuck," you say out loud, finally reaching your release. You feel the pleasure at your center, then it spreads down to your legs and up to your arms, all the way up to your head that you feel a little dizzy. Jungkook doesn't stop fingering you, and you're not even embarrassed that you can hear how wet you are down there.

"Okay, okay," you finally whimper once you start feeling the oversensitivity. You nudge him with your foot and he places one last kiss on your cunt before sitting up.

"How was that?" he asks proudly. Were it not for the mind blowing orgasm you just received, you would've rolled your eyes at his smugness.

"Like I died and went straight to heaven," you hoarsely reply.

He rubs your leg soothingly. "Still wanna continue?"

You nod your head and he smiles at you, then starts removing his clothes. You watch him silently and thank yourself for saying yes, because what the fuck, Jungkook's built like a Greek god.

And his dick is so pretty, too. You don't think you've ever described a cock as pretty until today. It's thick and long, the tip just resting a little bit bellow his belly button. It's leaking a bit too, could already see the precum, and you rub your legs together at the thought that Jungkook found pleasure in eating you out.

He comes back to bed and places himself on top of you, muscled arms caging your face.

"You good, pretty?" he says while smiling down at you.

"Yeah," you breathe out, feeling his heavy cock resting on your thigh. "Wanna suck you, though."

Jungkook chuckles at you in reply, head bowing down to nip at your neck. "No can do, sweet girl. Gonna blow my load the moment you suck me. Swear."

You pout at him and are about to talk back when he cuts you off.

"I know you're pouting. It doesn't work if I don't see it," he says against your neck.

"Fine," you mumble and he laughs again, body so close to yours that you feel the rumble in his chest.

He presses his lips against yours once again. You're so lost in the kiss that you don't realize his hand has been sliding down your body, rubbing your clit gently only to insert two fingers inside you.

"Kook," you moan against his lips.

"Just wanna make sure you're stretched out enough."

You're getting so close to climaxing again, but it feels like Jungkook already knows your body so well. He withdraws your fingers right when you're about to come. Even has the audacity to look cheeky when you huff at the loss of his fingers. You watch him get a condom from the back pocket of his jeans as you catch your breath. He rolls it on his cock before joining you in bed again, and you easily part your legs for him.

"Gonna go slow, okay?" He brings a hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "If it's too much, just tell me."

"Okay," you simply say, and he starts pushing his cock inside you. It's a tight fit, that you can tell, especially the head as it's the biggest part. God, he's so big. But you take it like a champ anyway, try to even your breathing until he slides all the way in.

"Holy shit," he groans, head dropping to tuck it in the crook of your neck. "You feel so good."

You get him, you really do. Jungkook fills you up so well, it's perfect, and the longer you feel him inside the faster the pain subsides.

You start rubbing his back gently. "You can move now, Kook. It doesn't hurt."

"Gimme a sec," he moans, busies himself with kissing your face instead. "Seriously." He looks at you in the eyes, his doe ones all blown out. "I might not even last long, it's embarrassing," he huffs.

You giggle at him. "Don't worry about it, silly. There's going to be a next time, like you said."

He smiles down at you, dimple popping out and nose scrunching. "Good," he mumbles while leaning down to capture your lips in his. Finally, he starts moving his hips. Slowly at first, just so you both get a good feel of each other.

Then his thrusts start getting a little bit faster and you can feel him so deep, even deeper when he puts your legs over his shoulder.

"Yeah," he groans, mesmerized by the way your tits bounce at each thrust. "There definitely needs to be a next time."

"Please," you start begging again, not really sure what you're begging for. Jungkook just glides in and out so easily because you're so wet. You feel your stomach tensing along with your thighs and you just want to come so badly again. You hold Jungkook's face in your hands and pull him down to kiss him.

"Wanna come," you pant against his mouth. "Please, Kook. Need to—"

"I got you, pretty," he grunts. "Come for me, ok? Wanna hear your pretty moans. Wanna feel your little pussy tighten around my cock."

His words edge you on even more and before you know it you're climaxing for the second time. Your legs start to shake and you let a few tears out at the ecstasy.

Jungkook prolongs your orgasm by fucking you some more. It's pure bliss you feel as you lay beneath him, watching the way his eyebrows scrunch together, feeling the cool metal of his necklace hitting your chin in time with his thrusts.

"Coming," he moans out and he delivers one hard thrust, so hard that you feel the tip of his cock deep in your belly. "Fucking hell," he curses. He thrusts turn short and slow, up until he finally stops and collapses on top of you.

It's silent for a moment as the both of you catch your breath. It's not like you did anything out of the ordinary. Didn't even switch positions. But you've never felt pleasure like this before and you're pretty sure Jungkook feels the same.

He brings his head up to look at you, tired smile gracing his face. He looks so good like this, just tired and spent but happy. "Hi," he whispers.

"Hello," you whisper back. He leans down and kisses you again, but this time it's slow and gentle. Like he wants to savor the moment. He asks in between kisses if you're okay, if you're not hurt, if you enjoyed, and you reassure him each time.

He pulls your body against his and you lay your head on his chest, your breathing slowing down in time with his steady heartbeat. He rubs up and down your back soothingly and it makes your eyes feel heavy. You feel Jungkook turn his head to kiss at your hair, and it makes you snuggle into him some more.

"Wanna shower?" he asks against your forehead.

"Sure," you hum. But neither of you move. "Give me like a minute. I can't feel my legs, I think."

He laughs and pinches your sides. You wiggle in his hold and try to escape, but Jungkook just tightens his arm around you. "Fucked you pretty hard, huh?"

You roll your eyes even if he can't see you at the moment. "You're so cocky about it."

He doesn't say anything else as he kisses your forehead one last time, then sits up and drags you into the shower with him. He just hugs you from behind as you both stand under the showerhead, letting the warm water wake you both up. You were a bit nervous at first agreeing to shower with him, thinking it'd be awkward since the thought of showering with someone is intimate. But it's not. You both stay silent as you lather each other in your shower gel. Jungkook even asks if he can wash your hair and you lean against his shoulder as he massages your head.

When you're both clean, he leans in to kiss you. You get so lost in it that you let him have his way with you again. Pretty soon he's kneeling down on the bathroom tiles, mouth on your pussy and tongue flicking against your clit. You come quickly, tired and spent already from a while ago, and when he stands up to kiss you, you ask if you can suck him off. He says yes, and you find yourself on your knees this time. You learn soon enough that Jungkook's a head pusher. But he does it so gently. Maybe he's just as spent as you are. He comes pretty quickly as well, and you swallow it all up and smile at him after.

You both get dressed and are in bed again, right in his arms. Jungkook feels warm and sturdy but also soft. Your eyes start to close and you drift off to sleep.

Jungkook isn't beside you when you wake up the next morning. Instead, you find a note on your bedside table.

Have a lot to do today. Sorry I dipped. Didn't want to wake you.

-Jungkook

P.S. - I stole two cookies :D

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #college jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook one shot #bts fanfic #fuckboy!jk #fuckboy!jungkook #mine #fic ooyg

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kissingghouls · 8 months

Text

If You Remember This Tomorrow

Phantom Ghoul x GN! Reader - Fluff, Tipsy Kissing, 1700 words

Heard a song, had an idea, wrote some fluff. I don't even know. Thank you to @ramblingoak because you're always so dang supportive. 💜

fic list // ao3 // Little Ghost (pt2) // A Late Night Call (pt3)

The room is loud, almost unbearably so. There are bodies everywhere, some paired off and some not, but all of them are illuminated by lights that flash in a wonderful rainbow of pretty colors. The dancefloor is full, and you feel as though you’re floating after that last drink that tasted more like red than anything else.

A smile spreads over your face as Swiss sways a little too excitedly and stumbles over his dance partner. None of this is new, not even the multi-ghoul falling over his own feet. He barks out a hearty laugh from his new spot on the floor, his whole body shaking. Somehow, he manages to get back to his feet without spilling a drop of his drink. It’s an impressive feat that earns him a kiss on the cheek as a prize before the pair spins off together to get better acquainted.

The success of the Ghost project meant that a good portion of the Ministry was on tour more often than not anymore. While the Ministry parties had always been wild, the more recent homecoming celebrations left most of the congregation with little to no memory of the night before.

A thick fog rolls over the floor, that sickly sweet smell of chemical syrup pumped out from the machines filling the air. Phantom materializes in it, a vapor turned solid shape that now blocks your path. You bounce off him, unsteady and unable to correct your course in your current state. He grabs your elbow, keeping you upright and off the ground with a soft smile. His teeth have a red tint to them, much like your own, but it’s too bright and too loud to make out what he’s saying.

He leans in to repeat himself, his grip a little tighter on your arm. He smells like strawberries and some kind of alcohol. But under the top notes of what you guessed was the last drink he had was the soft smell of a cologne so nice you wanted to bury your face in it.

You hadn’t spent a lot of time with the newly summoned ghoul—time was a luxury neither one of you had. But the pull had been there from the beginning, ever since he clawed his way out of the Pit and locked eyes with you. It’s a dance, one with several complicated steps and neither one of you had felt compelled to lead.

He says something else, words that taste like fruit punch and candy. You grin lazily and pat his shoulder, allowing yourself the first intended contact from you to him. His breath hitches, grip tightening once more. He’s so close now you can feel the heat of his skin through his clothes. A uniform you dare to imagine, for a split-second, rumpled in a pile on your floor.

It’s clumsy at first and your teeth clash together more than your lips, but the two of you are in such a stupor that you don’t stop. His hand moves to your back, pressing you close as he adjusts and kisses you properly. Behind you someone whistles—most likely Dew or Cumulus—but it doesn’t distract the ghoul from the task. He brings a hand to the side of your face, fingers splayed over your cheek and neck as he pulls the breath from your lungs.

You grab handfuls of his collar and break away, keeping your forehead pressured to his as you struggle for air. Kissing him is like drowning and you want nothing more than to be underwater again.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles against your lips. He draws a line over your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb and moves in again.

The next kiss is dizzying, knees buckling under the pressure and the flick of his tongue. He keeps you upright with a firm hand on your back and the one on your face slides into your hair. He tugs lightly, a smile hidden between you as you let out the tiniest moan.

Someone clears their throat nearby and the pair of you split apart like you’ve been caught behind the bleachers at a school dance. Papa offers Phantom an almost fatherly smile and pats him on the shoulder. He suggests the two of you get some air to avoid the cluster of ghouls watching nearby. Phantom is flustered, a pink tinge highlighting his cheeks as he stares back at his captive audience. Mountain and Rain each give him a thumbs up paired with toothy grins.

Your own cheeks heat up as you realize at some point you had been the topic of discussion between the ghouls. Some lonely night had passed between them on the road, maybe on the bus or in some dingy greenroom, and you were the reason he asked for advice from the others. The revelation makes you feel too warm in your clothes, a blush now spreading over your entire body.

You press your face against his shoulder, hiding a shy smile. He slides his hand down your arm, fingers brushing as the lace with yours. He asks if you would like to go with him and yes is the only word you know for a moment.

You don’t miss the smile on his face when the two of you start moving toward the exit, hand in hand.

“Wait!”

Sunshine, ever the perpetual dealer of chaos, approaches carrying two large cups filled with that same red drink that now tastes like Phantom’s kiss. She drops a wink in your direction that is the opposite of subtle and tells you both to have fun before sending you away.

Outside the night is unseasonably cool, a rare break from the heat of summer and the abbey’s sweltering ballroom. You both close your eyes, enjoying the gentle breeze that blows over the grounds. It’s quiet as the wind stills. No one else has made their way out from the party yet. In a few hours the lawn will be filled with your friends and his, but for now it’s just you and Phantom and maybe a curious spirit or two.

You sip carefully from your cups as you walk, the red dye staining your lips and teeth. It doesn’t matter to either of you anymore.

Phantom trips over a gnarled tree root, his drink spilling sticky red liquid over his fingers as he drops to the ground. You can’t help but laugh, the alcohol in your system doing you no favors. He pouts beneath you and wipes his wet hand across your thigh, smearing juice and dirt into your clothes. As you move to help him up, you catch the same root with your own feet and land in the grass next to him in a fit of giggles.

“You ok?” he asks through his own laughter, smiling wide when you nod. He settles on the lawn propped up on an elbow as he watches you.

The minutes pass, the pair of you splitting the remainder of your drink as you sit together in the grass. It’s a clear, beautiful night—a lot like the night he was summoned and pulled from the ground by Papa himself. You smile at the thought, the memory now a tiny movie in your head.

“I think I’m stuck,” he tells you and sinks into the ground a little more.

You shuffle closer, the space between you reduced to maybe half an inch. He drapes an arm over your waist, closing the gap even more with a soft sigh.

“You’re nice to look at,” he admits happily, a small hiccup breaking the sentence.

“Am I?”

“Mmhmm. There’s a word for it up here—I can’t remember it now, but in the Pit we’d say,” he pauses for a moment and brings his mouth to your ear before making a noise that sounds like a dryer full of gravel. “There’s not a word for word translation, but it’s close.”

You do your best to imitate the noise, giggling at his surprised face.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” he teases, clutching a hand to his chest in fake shock.

You laugh harder at his stupid joke than you mean to, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“No,” you finally manage as you dare to reach for his waist. “Kissed you with it, though.”

“Oh, yeah,” he says thoughtfully. “We should do that again.”

“We could. Or you can tell me more about how I’m nice to look at.”

He buries his face in the space between your neck and shoulder with a tiny whine. “Words are hard, ok?”

“So you’re not going to kiss—mmph!”

He catches your lips in another slow, passionate kiss that leaves you lightheaded. Your legs tangle as he pins you against the soft ground and you can’t think of anywhere you’d rather be. He tastes like heaven or maybe hell, syrupy sweet from whatever the ghouls had put in those cups.

He sounds smug as he mumbles something about being right to want to kiss you again, not quite pulling away enough to be fully understood. It doesn’t matter because you’re both smiling, completely drunk on fruit punch and each other.

Minutes become hours, but Phantom keeps you warm through the night. You talk about everything as you slowly sober up. He tells you about his time on the road, stories about mischief and misbehaved ghouls and the thousands of happy faces that he’s seen. You explain what he missed while he was away, like the time the hell hound puppies escaped their crates and dug up part of Primo’s garden and the day Cowbell fell into the fountain.

The two of you rest against a tree—the same one with the root that had taken you both down. In the comfortable quiet you fall asleep on his shoulder, his arm draped around you to keep you close. When his eyes begin to feel too heavy, he presses a kiss into your hair and rests his head on yours.

It won’t be long before your friends find you and tease you while you all nurse hangovers and swear never to drink that much again. There will be stories about what you missed and who came searching for you, who fell in the pool and who taught Papa the latest dance. You’ll listen to all of it while Phantom holds your hand and you will know you were right where you were supposed to be.

#my fics #my writing #phantom ghoul x reader #phantom ghoul x gn reader #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fic #ghost band fanfic #nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghouls fanfic

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moonlight-sonata99 · 10 months

Text

Walk the line

Trigger warnings: domestic fights,talk about addiction, suicide mentions. Loss. Alot of cussing.

No.1

Mikey

Carmy Berzatto x reader

A/n: I love carmy bro - but yea, this is uh..a passion project, honestly. I haven't wrote in a hot minute. But..I feel confident. Btw. This story will focus alot on addiction, not the Reader specifically, though. But her dad.

Slow burn/angst/comedy

The sounds of furniture falling and glass breaking behind the door as it Slams open and her face is red and her chest rises up and down quickly as the man behind her on the floor his cheek red from the hit he received from his daughter as his wife stands beside shocked, unable to move the only sound was them getting their stuff and leaving before making their way out the door they looks back and points their finger at the man who's cheeks are red his left a bit bloody

"Dont fucking talk to me unless you've been sober for a year. you hear me?" They breathe out as their mom calls out to them as they turn their back to their parents and rush away. Only leaving the cries of their mother and their father left on the floor as the sound of the ambulance gets closer and closer.

That was a while ago.

Since then, i think i've done well. Maybe. Got a job at some restaurant,the boss is cool. The coolest boss I might have had Honestly. Micheal Berzatto, AKA… Mikey, I've known him about… maybe a few months now? It's been a while since I've been "away" from home, anyways yea. Been working at this cool joint called the beef. Everyone feels like one big friend group. Yeah, it's really nice. I got a nice apartment, too. Well, " nice" is better than any other house that deadbeat ever got us.

Anyways, yeah. I hope you've been well ma. I sent you money with this. Don't try to send it back. And don't let that asshole see you with it.

I'm doing good, So don't worry.

With much love.

"Hey,speaking of assholes, what's the big deal with this brother?" You ask, looking down at the piece of onion you were cutting as mikey cooked behind you.

"Asshole? Ooh you mean my brother carmy? " He replies, keeping his gaze on the meat.

"yeah"

"Well there's a lot to say about him " he breathes out but a smile can obviously be detected in his voice

"Well then tell me about him genius"

"hes not your type " Tina chimes in as the rest laugh,

"Thats not- Okay, maybe that's why i asked. But if you really say so, " you reply, shrugging and putting the knife down and leaving the onions to grilI as - you turned to look at him. But he kept his back to you as he began to speak.

"no yeah- Carm… little brother Carmen. he's a chef in some fancy restaurant, nice right? " He admitted, watching the knife gliding through the meat smoothly.

"for real?" you gasped out looking at his back,

"for fucking real."

Remembering when that had happened. Mikey had a smile on his face when he spoke about his brother. Later on, you learned the two weren't on speaking terms. A part of you cursed yourself out of even having the gall to ask about a slightly sensitive topic, but another part of yourself felt...good to know at least he didn't hate his brother, Who'd want to hate their own siblings?

You knew better than to intervene.

It was february 21st, as you gathered your sweater, in the corner of your eye, you noticed Michael sitting in his office looking at a small white envelope.

"Hey, mikey," you guy, as you knocked lightly before entering his office, and he looked up his eyes, meeting yours.

" hey- " he coughed " hey whats up? " he said, rubbing his nose with the tips of his fingers.

" I should be asking you that '' you reply, putting on your bag.' You okay ? You've been… out of it these past few days. '' You say, tilting your head slightly.

"Im good" he mumbles out his hand over his mouth as he nods.

" Okay … if you ever need anything, just call me. Okay?"

" Gotcha," he says as you nod and make your way outside.

"hey uh be careful " he yells out as you heal out the door and the leans against his office door frame as you turn your head back to look at him.

" Yeah you too mikey"

Hey ma, me again. It's been a hot minute since I sent you a message. in terms of like… talking. i just wanted to check up on you. Make sure everything is okay, y'know? i'll be honest. I haven't been doing so well. if were being honest… I lost a friend. a good friend. Mikey, he Uh… Comitted suicide. and i don't know how to feel. Well,I feel sad. I spent… all week crying.

Yea i have brothers, but Mikey felt like the brother I never had.

due to moving so much as a kid, i didn't have any friends.

no girlfriends, boyfriends.

i didn't want any if i'm honest.

but Mikey changed that.In terms of friendship I mean.

i remember when i first met him, i was about to blow him off because he was pestering me about his restaurant. i mean, i was working for Petes sake. But he was loud,

and i gave in.

after that he let me into his family, albeit made of people working in a restaurant.

you know that thing when Companies say their employees are family and it's usually bullshit??

Yea,Mikey always meant that shit.

Ritchie told me his brothers were coming to take over. I'm not sure how to feel about it . The asshole didn't even come his funeral. Anyway, yeah, that what has been up with me. Sorry for suddenly dumping all of this on you.

i lost a good friend.

A/n: I really like writing for this series, honestly. Please tell me if you guys want more :]

#the bear #the bear x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #carmy x reader #carmy x you

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enhasfever · 1 year

Text

bloodline — enhypen hyung line

{ coming soon!! }

╰┈➤ [ cast.txt ] enhypen hyung line + fem!reader ft. maknae line

╰┈➤ [ contents.txt ] university!au, supernatural!au, vampire!enha, vampire!reader, fake dating, unrequited love, exes to lovers, enemies to lovers, secret relationship, angst, fluff, (possibly) suggestive themes

╰┈➤ [ summary.txt ] in which your journey with these four young men is anything but blissful and glamorous, but you live in a world where people will do anything to protect their bloodline even if it means faking relationships or keeping forbidden love a secret. will it be worth it to you?

╰┈➤ [ notes.txt ] each part can be read as a stand-alone story, though some events within the plot of the series may make more sense if they are read in the order they have been written in. also, the y/n character in each boy's story will appear in the other boys' stories and will be portrayed by female idols to avoid confusion.

why won't you love me — l. heeseung

╰┈➤ [ fic.pdf ] teaser! || read it!

╰┈➤ [ cast.txt ] heeseung + fem!reader (y/n character portrayed by le sserafim's yunjin in other stories)

╰┈➤ [ contents.txt ] unrequited love!au, one-sided pining (reader), toxic family dynamics (reader is constantly pressured and guilted), lots of angst, maybe a sprinkle of fluff (more tba)

╰┈➤ [ word count.txt ] N/A

╰┈➤ [ summary.txt ] in which you know heeseung is out of your league, but you still choose to pursue him knowing that your chances with him are slim to none. if you don't obtain his attention and love, you can kiss your place in your family goodbye.

catch fire — p. jongseong

╰┈➤ [ fic.pdf ] teaser! || read it!

╰┈➤ [ cast.txt ] jay + fem!reader (y/n character portrayed by itzy's yuna in other stories)

╰┈➤ [ contents.txt ] enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, reader is sort of a mean girl, eventual mutual pining, angst & fluff (more tba)

╰┈➤ [ word count.txt ] N/A

╰┈➤ [ summary.txt ] in which you and jay have been competing with each other since you were in primary school, and it can't possibly get any worse when you're paired for a project. that is, until you're suddenly planning for an unsolicited wedding.

impurities — s. jaeyun

╰┈➤ [ fic.pdf ] teaser! || read it!

╰┈➤ [ cast.txt ] jake + fem!reader (y/n character portrayed by ive's rei in other stories)

╰┈➤ [ contents.txt ] secret relationship!au, mutual pining, star-crossed lovers of sorts, an equal amount of angst & fluff, bloodline discrimination ?? i'm making it a thing idk (more tba)

╰┈➤ [ word count.txt ] N/A

╰┈➤ [ summary.txt ] in which you and jake must keep your relationship a secret, especially from your family. they'd never allow you to be with someone who came from an impure bloodline like his.

all for love — p. sunghoon

╰┈➤ [ fic.pdf ] teaser! || read it!

╰┈➤ [ cast.txt ] sunghoon + fem!reader (y/n character portrayed by aespa's winter in other stories)

╰┈➤ [ contents.txt ] fake dating!au, exes to lovers, a lotta angst, fluff to make up for it (more tba)

╰┈➤ [ word count.txt ] N/A

╰┈➤ [ summary.txt ] in which you and sunghoon have been happily together since high school and are destined to marry after graduating from university. the problem? you broke up three months ago, but no one knows.

╰┈➤ [ notes.txt ] i wrote a small drabble/fic a while ago with a plot similar to this one, though i do plan to change up a bit of it in this series. here it is if you're interested in reading it!

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maxfandoms · 4 months

Text

Day feelings towards Night

Hi, Hello! I see a lot of people who see Day blame Night for the accident and are like but "Day's actually the one at fault in the end for taking his eyes of the road" or "Day is just taking his anger out on Night" and you're right but

Day know it was accident, he know deep down that Night didn't do anything and it also not just as simple as Day taking out his anger on Night, it is part of it but it's more complicated than that

So as someone who is familiar in the department of "Being angry/furious with family members who did sh*tty things but are trying to move on or be better" and also as someone who has been right about Day's emotion before I'm just here to give a rambly perspective on things. So Let's Start

(Also side note: I am going to talk about how Day's view Night more and not actually how Night is because this two are so completed different things for now at least)

We know that Day's know it was accident, and even if it was in someone choice it was Day's. Day choose to go the club and Day choose to take his eye off the road and the things is even before this episode, and even when I wrote my thoughts on Night & Day i kind of knew that would be Day's choice that lead to the accident in a ironic way (I was thinking that maybe Day knew he shouldn't be playing because that could risk his vision as well but that didn't happen) But I still understand because

What Day is actually angry about

Let start bit by bit, First with this line by the dad especially this part right here "You once wanted him to be". Combine this with Night saying "Who's the big brother?" it paints a picture of relationship where Day was the more responsible of the two (the national badminton player, seems good at school) while Night feel like maybe he was lost and maybe partying so Day was the one taking care of Night

It says a lot that the first flashback we got about Night & Day is Day in the role of taking care of Night, making sure he's will get home safe when now it's Night doing that

Also just look at difference in the way Day looks hearing Night, like in the first one has a bitt of annoyance, but there's a care and fondness that make me cry a little bit since I knew what was coming

With this dialogue, Day makes it clear that he doesn't feel Night's action are genuine, that they don't come from Night's care and love for him. And can I just say, Day is not completely wrong on that assumption

Night loves Day? Yes. The thing is though Night's guilt is def a factor in the way he's behaving right now and despite the fact that Night's recklessness was about his own struggle than his feelings towards Day's. Day doesn't know that, what he does know is that after the accident, Night became more caring, gentle towards him.

What think happen in Day's mind every time that Night is kind is this: "Now you can be a good brother? Now that you think you hurt me so much you can be what I wanted you to be? Now that the spot of the 'golden child' is vague? Not out of love on genuine care? Why couldn't before? What was stopping you?"

And a lot of you may be thinking that is should be easy to connect the dots, however it's not. Because I think Day thinks that if he were to try and reach out towards Night, it would just go back to the way things were and Night would fall back in the same recklessness behavior (Could this be a little projection? Yes but let's not talk about that)

This part can be interpret in a lot of ways, because from what asked around Day uses ‘เสียใจ’ which means ‘sad’ but it could also mean ‘feel sorry for something’. So this could be that Day's is feel like he taking a responsibility for the accident, I think that could be one way to interpret it

But what if it's more than that? What if he's also feeling sorry than he can seem to let go of his resentment, that despite Night's trying Day is not ready to trust him to be a good brother?

TL:DR Day's anger is not about the accident, but about everything that Night is doing after it. Day blame Night for not being able to be a good brother BEFORE the accident which it unfair because Night was dealing with own thing before but Day needed a big brother for long time that he is hurt from the waiting

#jimmysea #last twilight #last twilight series #last twilight the series #morkday #mhokday #jimmy jitaraphol #sea tawinan

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unshieldedlizzy · 4 months

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Rejection....?

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

You had been crushing on your lieutenant ever since you joined Taskforce 141. Every time he was glaring at you, your face turned red; every time he walked past you, your face turned red; every time he called you by your code name, your face turned red; and every time he was close to you, your face turned red. His existence alone was enough to make you feel wet, yet you felt stupid. Stupid that you couldn't get closer to him, stupid that you'd get so shy around him, stupid that you'd always stutter and mix up words every time you answered a question or had a small chat with him, so stupid that every wrong move you made, you'd think it made him hate you. You didn't know what he thought of you though. I mean, the man barely knew you and definitely didn't want anything to do with you. But you didn't lose hope.

You've tried almost everything: you tried to be understanding, you tried to help, and you tried to get to know him better, yet nothing worked. Probably because you stutter like crazy and don't know how to talk with someone you secretly love. But what was the point if you could've spoken well to him? He just pushed you away, like he usually does to everyone, so that shouldn't affect you. But it did; it bothered you, it hurt you, and it made you feel miserable for even trying. You almost lost all of your determination, but you kept a small hope in yourself.

***

"I like you," you shyly said, not sure how you got here in the first place. Well, you spotted him a few months later, and you dragged him somewhere private, wanting to let out your feelings because it bothered you and hurt you. Ghost stood still, his expression not changing, his eyes glued to you, not really sure what to say. "...we're not friends." He gruffly replied. You slightly frown; that isn't what you meant, but his words still caused you to feel more and more impatient. You couldn't ignore the pain that affected your heart. "No...I mean like...I love you." You breathed out, trying your absolute best not to break down in tears. Ghost didn't say anything; he just looked at you while being silent, almost like he wasn't there. You gulped and began speaking. "Aren't you going to say something?" You whispered, "Anything?" You continued with desperation, hoping he could at least nod or shake his head—just anything—but once he opened his mouth, everything suddenly went blank.

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

You slowly opened your eyes; you felt dizzy—very dizzy. However, the first thing you saw was a white room. What on earth were you doing here—no, how did you get here? You whimper and started to look around; you are stuck at a table; something is holding you still, but you can't see what that is. "Ghost?" You softly cried out. "Stop projecting; are your delusions getting worse?" A female voice could be heard behind you. "What? Who are you? How...? why...?" you say, remaining speechless. What did she mean by "delusions"? What is happening? Who was she?! You thought with silent tears. The female voice couldn't be heard for a moment, almost like the woman spaced out, but soon enough, she spoke. "It seems like the asylum isn't working for you." ------------------------------------

A/N: Well, that was a plot twist. It seems like the reader was in an asylum, and poor Simon wasn't real—or any of the members of the Task Force. I was going to originally name this "imagination", but I thought it would spoil the twist. Sorry if this made zero sense. I wrote this at four in the morning and saved it to drafts because I was so tired, my eyes started hurting...woops 🤩😘😘😝🥰😍🤗❤️💗😚🤭

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #cod angst #angst #cod mw3 #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty #simon riley x y/n

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magicbench · 6 months

Text

~ Fuji:RE update ~

Hello hello everyone !

Woah it's been a while that I haven't wrote anything there, since I generally use tumblr rather than twitter for longer posts. So, yup…today is one of those days where I need to share a wall of text xD

As some of you surely already know, I attempted to dev Fujiwara:REmake with RPGmaker because of the aspect of walking around and the system of shop/items which was really appealing to me. This was two of the main reasons I switched from Ren'Py to RPGmaker and it was very fun and fullfilling at first as I learned a good amount of new things, but…unfortunately, the more I worked on it, the more I started to struggle and get frustrated with things that my current skills can't cover.

I thought of going on hiatus for the time I'd learn a bunch of advanced features to make the game visually more enjoyable, but I realized it would take an awfully long time to do so until I can present something decent and in sync with what I have in mind. I'm sure most of you don't want to wait who knows more time for this project to be released. So it's a bit reluctantly and disappointed that I decided to go back to Ren'Py, as I'm more familiar with it and that it would also means I'll work faster. I'm really sincerely sorry for all of you who were excited to play a RPGmaker version of Fujiwara (you'll still be able to interact with your surrounding though !), but I really need to go back on a more visual novel type of game for the sake of the project. I hope you'll understand and continue looking forward for Fuji:RE when it's finally completed !

Thank you again all for your support and your patience, you are the bests, always ✦✿

#visualnovel #magicbench #vndev #otomegame #fujiwarabittersweet #fujibittersweetremake #amaregame #amaredev

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nkjemisin · 8 months

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You should try to go see public works Tempest in central park, it’s really incredible and reminded me of the city we became. It’s super insane and beautiful and wild and hard to describe, so even though it’s insane to ask someone to go stand in line all day to see a play based off a random tumblr message I really think you should!

Oooh, I haven't done the line for Shakespeare in the Park in years. Not sure I still have it in me, since it requires getting up at 3 or 4 am and spending hours fighting line-jumpers and so on. But I've been hearing good things about this year's Tempest so maybe I'll muster up the energy. Thanks for the recommendation!

Since you reminded me of it, here's a deleted scene/alternate opening I once wrote for THE WORLD WE MAKE. I decided on a different opening for the final version, obvs, but maybe you'll enjoy what might have been. Cutting because long.

He's just a man standing on a rooftop. The outfit he's wearing is bespoke, by a Harlem tailor who came in second on Project Runway's last season. The jacket is rich brown suede, fine-stitched, over olive-tan pants and a piqué shirt of deepest royal indigo, and he's wearing the hell out of it. If there were anyone around to see, they'd think he was a model, standing in the kind of casual-at-attention pose that only men in magazine photo shoots ever do, with one hand in a pocket and his gaze thoughtfully locked on the cityscape horizon. The model aesthetic is reinforced by the fact that he's got a lean, strong figure and the kind of racial ambiguity that Hollywood diversity advocates love: brown skin that's not too brown, lips full enough to be either natural or recent collagen injections, thick eyebrows that are as sculpted as his cheekbones, eyes with just enough epicanthic fold to qualify as "exotic" but not in like an ethnic way.

He's not a model. He's just Manhattan, human representative of New York's contributions to the fashion, media, and sex work industries. He's not even trying particularly hard to look good. He has simply stopped resisting what comes naturally.

But he's about to be late for work -- and while New York custom permits a degree of conspicuous tardiness as a social power move in certain situations, this particular job is too personally important to him for such games. So he steps up onto the low wall that surrounds the roof, and then he steps off.

It's fine. The building is twelve stories tall; anything over five stories is required to have an elevator per city ordinance. He's been practicing, too, so all he has to do is shut his eyes and imagine, and the city's power holds him aloft in midair as solidly as if he's stepping onto flooring. (He is; it's just flooring that exists in several other iterations of his universe.) Even with this, however, he makes sure to take a step or two forward before calmly turning away from the cityscape. People don't usually stare at the back of an elevator, after all -- and verisimilitude is key. "First floor, please," he murmurs. In earlier days of the city, building elevators were a complicated luxury that required trained staff to operate. In current days of the city, many elevators run on voice activation. At Manhattan's request, there is an electronic ping of acknowledgement, followed by a very faint echo of blended, long-vanished voices: "Watch the door, please, watch your hands, going down." Then he begins to descend. It's smooth, slow; this is only a mid-sized building, not modern or expensive enough to have an express elevator. Only the fact that he's descending through thin air makes it odd.

Just above the sidewalk his descent slows, letting him drift to a gentle halt. There are a few dozen people on the street in this moment, and some of them notice as he just stands there for a moment, letting the metaphysical aethers settle and the metaphorical elevator doors open. The ones who stare are tourists. New Yorkers generally don't react to strangeness, but they do notice it, if only to shake their heads and murmur "This fucking city," to themselves before moving on. Manhattan catches the eye of one of the starers, winks and smiles, then strides off down the street.

As he walks, he hums John Coltrane's "Central Park West" -- not for power this time, but simply because he's walking along Central Park West and likes the song. It's also a beautiful day. Here at the heart of the city it is clear that autumn encroaches: Central Park is across the street, dense with color-shifting trees. Their whispers speak to the part of Manhattan that was more, once, than just concrete and cars; the island has always been here, after all, crossroads for many peoples, and those millennia of commerce were enough to form the building blocks of the living entity that it is now. But mostly, he just likes that rustling sound, and the flickers of color and movement, and the faint whiff of chemical sugars forming and breaking down within the leaves. Something about that scent, and the wind's occasional brisk sharpness, speaks to him.

There is the lightest of touches upon the part of him that is more than a man. Just a ping, to get his attention. "You wanna focus, or you gonna just keep spacing out about the pretty pretty trees, Mr. I Was Bebop Before It Was Cool?"

They've all figured out that words work better than thoughts. They are one city, the six of them, and if they ever need to, they can function as a single brain and heart and will -- but doing that is as overwhelming as it is thrilling. New York isn't supposed to be any single thing, see; the distinct characters of its boroughs are part of its strength. More personally, Manny's probably never going to be super-comfortable with letting his fellow parts of the city into his head, because he's got enough going on in there already.

But he's right in reminding Manny to focus. "Just getting into the spirit," Manny replies, waiting for a gap in the traffic before trotting across the street. Then he vaults the low stone wall around the edge of the park. It's a twelve-foot drop beyond, but he manages it easily enough, landing in a crouch in a wooded thicket already carpeted in red and gold leaves. Doesn't even make his knees twinge. Nothing can hurt New York, in New York, except New York.

Well. And one other thing.

He moves forward at a brisk Midtown pace, pushing aside the branches of small trees as gently as he can so as not to damage them. He starts finding white tendrils almost immediately. Just small patches here and there: three wigglers on a broad, still-green sycamore leaf, one on the tree's gnarling roots nearby. A patch shaped like a handprint growing atop a hooded garbage can; that one's especially nasty, positioned as it is to infect anyone who actually tries to deposit their litter in the can instead of just tossing it somewhere. "Rude," Manny murmurs. He's getting rid of the patches as he passes them, just by touching the wood or ground or metal near each cluster and letting a little of "Central Park West" riff through his mind and down his arm and out through his fingers. Earworms can be handy. Good for killing other wormlike things.

(Not so long ago, it would have taken everything Manny had to get rid of these things. He had to replace all his credit cards after symbolically buying all the real estate around a particular rock in Inwood Park. Now, however, the city is whole -- and these tendrils, tenacious as they are, are tourists from another urban locale who've overstayed their welcome. It's easy to obliterate them, but it's more important to find the bus they came in on, and deal with that.)

"Red alert!" says Padmini -- Queens -- suddenly. She tugs on the shared part of their consciousness, projecting an image onto it that is stunning in its precision: a three-dimensional and topographical map, with a moving cursor at its center and a GPS coordinate meter in the bottom corner. Padmini abruptly zooms them in on the cursor, and then she presents them with a simplified view through her own eyes.

There, jolting slightly as Padmini runs, is their quarry. To most other people in Central Park, the young man who slips down a leaf-thick hill and then scrabbles his way over a tumbled, mossy pile of bedrock is just another cross-country runner, or maybe a parkour practitioner with a greater love of natural settings than most. He's a lanky Indian-looking guy, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt -- but through the lens of Padmini's vision, Manny sees the rest. The guy's got patches of white fronds all over him, and as he runs they waft back like long hair which just happens to be growing from his forearms and shins and ass. Manny's used to this, people who look like yeti crabs, however horrible it is. Far worse is the tendril which projects from the back of the young man's neck, thick and veined in a disturbingly umbilical way, forming a long white cord which twists up and out of sight amid the trees. It stretches up into the sky, Manny knows from three months' experience, attenuating until it disappears from human eyesight with distance -- but wending southward before it does. They all know where that cable terminates.

"Mike check," says Veneza, and Manny's mental eye shifts to her view. She's standing under one of the park's stone bridges, her vision bouncing a little as she crouches to stretch out her ankles. Getting ready to run. Manny feels her excitement as the tendril-covered man comes into view, jogging over a grassy hill covered in early-afternoon sunbathers. But who's he kidding? They all enjoy this. "That's it. Come to mamãe. Drive him like a li'l doggie on the range, Queeny McQueenyface."

"I can't believe you mixed like three metaphors in ten seconds," Padmini replies -- but she zigs left, across one of the roads of the park. Manny catches his breath as she veers into a bike lane, because Central Park bikers all think they're in the Tour de France, but in the same moment he feels her latch into the bikers' sense of hurry and entitlement, drawing their power into her legs. Her pace speeds up sharply, until she's nearly flying down a sloping sidewalk, veering now and again to move around walkers and a small crowd near a pretzel vendor.

"That's the Jersey in me. Metaphors are our pork roll."

"Your what?"

"Pork roll. Look it -- wait, shit, hang on."

Tendril man has seen Veneza and stopped, halfway down the grassy hill. It's eerie to Manny how still he is. After all the running and climbing he's done, he should be out of breath, shoulders heaving, dripping sweat, but he isn't. It's just like the other cases of this they've encountered in the past few weeks; they're running on something other than human power. These tendril-people aren't avatars, however; they're more like drones, sent forth by some other malevolent consciousness and endowed with supernatural power only temporarily, and for their task. And if they don't catch this poor guy before that power gets done using him -- Well. Manny picks up the pace.

Padmini skids to a halt. (A man nearby does a double-take, then nods in a grudgingly impressed way at her athleticism.) "Shit. He's going to bolt, isn't he?"

In lieu of any reply, they all see Tendril Man bolt. He jumps off the steeper side of the rocky hill -- a ten-foot drop; Manny really hopes the poor guy was in shape before he got drafted as a spectral conduit for a hostile extradimensional essence, or he's going to feel that in the morning. Then Tendril Man takes off, moving with truly impressive speed up a paved hill-path.

"FUCK," two of them think. (Manny doesn't curse, but he empathizes.) They all take off running too.

Tendril Man is running toward a big, round building at the top of the hill. Its vendor doors are shut and there are only a few people hanging around near it, but abruptly he zigs toward a big wooden gate labeled PERFORMER ENTRANCE -- and vaults it, with the ease of a master gymnast. Manny might be able to think of a way over it too, if he gives himself a minute; surely there is some quintessentially cityish concept, like elevators for tall buildings, that he can harness to grant himself the ability to jump like that. In the fluster of the moment, however, he can't think of anything. Gotta work on that, do better at having a "jumping" construct ready to go under duress.

In lieu of leaping, however, he manages to remember the grating sound of garbage trucks barrelling down the street at oh dark thirty in the morning, usually with wonky transmissions and brakes that screech loudly enough to set off car alarms. Manny's seen several of them scrape or bang into cars without bothering to stop -- and so he draws into himself the desperate need to hurry and finish a shift, the hulking size and diesel-fueled strength of the trucks, the cheerful pragmatism of the tough workers who chuck heavy bags and kick rats with unflappable equanimity. And as Manny runs at the gate, the world blurs a little and an eyewatering stench surrounds him, and he finds it almost impossible to care about collateral damage because he's got a job to do, come on, come on, let's go...

He remembers enough of himself to dip his shoulder a little as he hits the gate. It only looks like wood; underneath, there's plenty of metal, and he sees that the gate has an electronic number-lock. Probably pretty solid. But his supernaturally-powered shoulder smashes the gate wide open, actually cracking the whole frame in half, too, and part of the fence beyond it.

Oops. Well, he'll make a donation on the website, because now that he's through the gate he sees: THE DELACOURTE THEATER WELCOMES YOU TO SHAKESPEARE IN THE PARK.

Tendril Guy is running down the steps of what Manny now sees is a huge open-air amphitheater. He leaps again, a pretty impressive standing jump onto the stage -- and then he stops abruptly. There's a set being deconstructed here; Shakespeare in the Park only runs during the summer months, so someone's in the middle of stripping gigantic rolls of fake grass off the stage floor. And now, from within a huge prop built to look like a small apartment building, the avatar of New York steps forth to confront their enemy.

He's calling himself "Neek," these days -- a phonetic pronunciation of the initials for New York City. He hasn't told them his real name. Manny's not sure it matters anyway; doesn't Manny, of all people, understand that they are no longer who they were? The knowledge and joy and danger of eight million people has found its focus in Neek, and like any of their fellow great cities, this makes him strange. São Paulo was the same, whenever Manny had time and peace enough to study him: a young-old man who radiated urbane cynicism and eerie wisdom all at once. Hong Kong too. Maybe this is the difference between those who represent boroughs or neighborhoods, and those who are whole cities in themselves.

Or maybe it's just Neek. "Yo, man, take a breath," he says to Tendril Guy, as he slouches out of shadow. "Touch some, uh, astroturf. You keep letting that shit run you, won't be anything of you left."

Tendril Guy immediately turns to run, but by this point Manny has reached the other side of the stage. Veneza is in the ampitheater, trotting toward them from the other direction, and from somewhere backstage they can hear Padmini cursing and shoving something heavy aside, because apparently backstage is a mess amid the set breakdown. Unless Tendril Guy can fly -- and Manny puts nothing past the Woman in White -- then he's got nowhere left to run.

It's a dangerous time, though. In the past, whenever they've cornered one of her minions... Tendril Guy backs up, looks around, starts to get tense. Manny tries to think up a construct, and finds himself looking around. At the stage.

Neek's gaze flicks to him, and the little smile on his face widens.

"Two cities," he declares suddenly, spreading his arms wide and raising his voice. The Delacourte's acoustics are perfect, of course, designed to facilitate an outdoors theatrical performance. "Both alike in dignity! In fair Manhattan where we lay our scene."

Of course the theater absorbs this slightly-fudged homage, echoes it, amplifies it, and sends back a reverberation of energy: the faint murmurs and anticipation of a crowd, a lilt of music from a nonexistent orchestra. For just a fleeting moment Manny can almost see the suggestion of bodies in the amphitheater seats, shadowy heads that turn to each other or crane their necks or flip through Playbills. Ready to be enraptured.

Manny finds himself grinning -- but then he panics a little as Neek raises his eyebrows pointedly, because Manny doesn't have any Shakespeare memorized. But Broadway is only a few dozen blocks away; maybe he can use that instead? He sifts quickly through the grab-bag of random quotes in his head. Can't think of an actual line from an actual play, but it's a direct reference, so he clears his throat awkwardly and sings: "They say the neon lights are bright on Broadway. There might be city magic in the air."

Stage lights, multihued but mostly white, appear above the seats. The lights aren't real. Manny can see most of the lighting equipment disassembled and stacked up to one side of the stage. Tendril Guy flinches suddenly and violently, staggering back. Steam rises as Tendril Guy raises his arms defensively, the tendrils on him whipping and hissing wildly as the city's light begins to burn them away.

They have to keep it going. Veneza giggles and runs down the steps, leaping to a crouch as if she's acting out some play or another, and sings, "Now is the time to seize the day! Answer the call and don't delay! New York can be righted, boroughs united; let us seize the day!" In response, loose cables curled on one side of the stage suddenly come to life, whipping around Tendril Guy's legs to keep him from running again.

One of the doors on the prop building slams open dramatically. Beyond it they can see Padmini pushing aside a rack of clothing that persistently keeps trying to roll toward her. She manages it, stumbles out, and glowers around at all of them. Veneza gestures frantically for her to take up the thread; Neek spreads his hands too in the universal sign of Come on, hurry up. Finally, with a little growl, Padmini snaps, "Oh, fine. 'Immigrants: We get the job done!'" This doesn't seem to have any effect at first, but then Padmini shoves a large, heavy-looking wooden desk out of the way with ease; she's much stronger, now. Enough to get this job done.

As performances go, it's all terrible. Slapdash, random, corny; Manny won't be surprised if in the morning they all receive a clipped-out review from a theater magazine that exists only in some alternate reality, panning all of them for defiling the stage. But as a construct, drawing on the power of three boroughs and the delight of a thousand audiences, from the Delacourte to the Fringe Festival and back, it's exactly what they need.

Then, his voice muffled by his own extradimensional growths, Manny hears Tendril Guy -- or maybe the guy within the pelt of tendrils -- try to speak. "A-all the w-world..." he murmurs, his voice thick, too deep, flanged in a way that sounds like bad special effects. He's steaming all over, now. Ah, and at last Manny sees the tendrils burning away, peeling off and curling into nothingness. As he lowers his arms, Manny sees that he's sweaty-faced and visibly exhausted... but he is smiling. He turns to face the whispering, flickering audience, and all at once Manny can feel him. Tendril Guy is part of New York, again -- and he knows it, and some part of his soul rejoices with the knowledge. Probably helps that the guy is a former theater kid himself; Manny can feel that, now that the Enemy's influence has been broken. Neek grins at Manny; he can feel it, too.

So then Neek goes over to Tendril Guy, leans close, and blows on the now-shriveled cord attached to the back of his neck. It snaps free as if Neek's breathed fire onto it, uttering a faint creel of inhuman pain -- and then the cord is snatched away upwards, into the darkening evening sky. Manny catches a fleeting hint of sinuous movement against the clouds, southward, and then it is gone.

Tendril Guy, who is now just Some Guy, beams at Neek. Then he steps back and lifts a finger. "All the world's a stage," he says again -- clearly this time, in a pleasant baritone, projecting with the ease of long practice. "And all the men and women merely players! They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages."

He does the whole monologue then, perfectly. Not that Manny would know if he got it right -- but the Delacourte does, and as Manny glances out at their whispery audience, he sees smiles, hears soft "ahs" and giggles of approval with every precisely-enunciated line. As Some Guy finishes, applause breaks out, echoing with unreality but loud and enthusiastic. The artist formerly known as Tendril Guy beams in delight and extends his hands for Manny and Neek to take. They do. Padmini, her pique fading now that she's no longer fighting furniture, shakes her head and takes Neek's hand; Veneza giggles and runs up the steps to take Manny's. The applause goes on as, uh, Theater Guy leads them in first one bow, and then another. Someone in the audience whistles. Someone else yells "Encore!" It's intoxicating. They bow a third time. As at last the applause fades and the lights start to go dark... Theater Guy collapses, between them.

"Oh, no," Veneza says, her delight vanishing. "Please, not again -- "

"He's fine," Manny says, crouching by Theater Guy, though he checks Theater Guy's neck-pulse and breathing just to be sure. It's there, though the guy's skin is clammy with sweat.

"Close," Neek says. He's looking up at the sky, after the ugly cable that had been attached to the guy's neck.

It's only the second time that they've successfully rescued one of these agents of the Woman in White, sent forth from her bastion in Staten Island to... well, Manny's not exactly sure what their purpose is. Are they superspreaders meant to reinfect the city, and thus help her regain the foothold that she lost three months before? Are they drones of a sort, reconnoitering enemy territory? Either way, the result is always the same, if Manny and his fellow avatars don't catch the tendril-bearer and cleanse them in time: the person burns out and dies, all of their strength used up by the alien intelligence that has worn them like a puppet.

Not this time, though. "Let's get him outside," Manny says, grunting as he pulls Theater Guy up. "Easier for an ambulance to get to him out there."

"But what about after?" Padmini asks. She comes over to help him wrestle the guy into a sitting position, so that Manny can pull him into a fireman's carry. "Uff, he's heavy! But if somebody calls his family and they take him back to Staten Island, will she just take him over again? What if she's mad at him for getting caught by us?"

"It's fine," Neek says. He's still turned away from them, facing southward. There is an odd note in his voice, however, which makes Manny frown at his back. Neek sounds... distracted. "Most of the folks on Staten are fine. The ones who commute here lose their little wigglers when they step off the ferry, unless they've got one of those bigger cable-things attached to them. Grow 'em back on the after-work ride. They don't even notice."

"Remember what it was like when she was all over the city," Manny adds. "All those people she... infected. She used them if she needed them and ignored them otherwise. They became part of her, but they didn't seem to mean anything to her, any more than..." He shakes his head, to the degree that he can with Theater Guy on his shoulders. "Individual hairs on a person's head. How often do we notice when we lose one, or when it grows back?"

"We shouldn't let him go back at all," Padmini says, scowling. "We know she's doing something to all those people. He's safer here!"

Neek focuses enough to turn and eye her over his shoulder. His tone is mild and his expression neutral, but his words have a sharp point. "You gonna spring for an apartment for him somewhere? Let him go crash with ya auntie and the fam?"

"No, but -- "

"I know a good spot under the Williamsburg." Neek's relentless. "Probably still good even with all the cleanup and construction since the bridge broke. Warm on cold nights, hard to see so the kids and assholes don't fuck with you. We could dump him there."

Padmini sets her jaw. "Fine. Point made. But Staten Islanders are still people, and we should try to help them."

Veneza, who was peering into the orchestra pit in fascination, turns back to them, plainly uneasy at the tension she's picking up. "We are. But I mean, Pads... that's not really our job."

Now they all fall into an uncomfortable silence, because sometimes the truth is hard. And the truth is that the avatar of Staten Island is not here with them today because she has rejected them, and thrown her people to the interdimensional wolves by doing so. They are all of them New York... but they are not Staten Island, not anymore. Theater Guy's ultimate fate isn't theirs to make.

"Ay yo fuck that bird," Neek says, scowling at Veneza, who blinks in surprise. "Her and Squigglebitch tried to kill us, remember? Tried to eat you. Let Staten Island die."

Padmini stares at him. "Wait. What? Let a whole borough die? Are you crazy?"

"Fuck them." Neek gestures sharply, southward. "Everyone on Staten Island. Buncha racist redneck Republican dumbasses, nobody needs them. They're the reason she's still here, hanging over this city like a fucking guillotine. I'm tired of stressing about this shit! Let her flyover country ass die with the rest of them nobody-nothing sons of bitches."

Manny flinches, despite himself. That's beyond harsh. And something about this little rant feels... off. He's known Neek for all of three months, but in that time Neek has been a quiet and low-key leader of their group, unusually even-keeled for the personification of a city known for its aggression. Are you okay? rises to Manny's lips, but he refrains from saying it, aware that it could sound patronizing. He's wondering it, though.

All at once different lights snap on within the theater -- not stage lights, but all the rest. Padmini frowns at this. "Hey, we don't need these anymore. Which one of you -- "

Abruptly a piercing electronic alarm sounds throughout the theater, and the lights all turn a startling, awful red.

"What the shit?" Neek says. He blinks as if dazed, turning to stare up at the lights -- and then he stiffens. "Manny. You doing that?"

Manny can barely hear him over the noise. "No, why would I? Can't you stop it?" Neek is New York. He has better control over the city's power than any of them... but all of a sudden, the city feels strange. Sluggish and reluctant, when Manny gently urges it to shut off the alarm. It's responsive, but unreliable and slow in a way Manny's never noticed before.

And to Manny's surprise, Neek takes a step back, his very posture radiating unease. "I... can't. Nothing's happening. What the fuck." He shakes his head.

"Yo, uh, we should go," Veneza says, bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet. "If that's a break-in alarm -- I mean, we did break in, but -- "

The Delacourte sits the middle of Central Park, in one of the city's toniest neighborhoods, and is the site of one of its most popular attractions. "Out," Manny snaps, when it becomes clear that Neek has been so thrown by the situation that he's not reacting quickly enough. "Now."

Veneza's already moving, running to the edge of the stage. Manny follows her as quickly as he can with Theater Guy, and Padmini grabs Neek, dragging him along when he doesn't move fast enough. "Cover your faces!" she cries -- and, yeah, if the city's magic suddenly isn't helping them anymore, that's a good idea. But Manny can't, unless he wants to drop Theater Guy, who's been through enough.

There are people milling around in front of the Delacourte, mostly looky-loos reacting to the continuous beeeeeeep of the alarm, but Manny sees how many of them have smartphones in hand. It can't be helped. He crouches and carefully sets Theater Guy on a patch of soft grass, and catches the eye of an older lady who is staring at all of them. "Call 911," he says, with as much urgency as he can. They can't stop people from filming them fleeing the scene of an apparent break-in, but maybe the sight of someone in distress will distract most of the onlookers. "This man is hurt and needs an ambulance. I don't know what happened to him, he just collapsed."

The lady gasps and starts punching at her phone. Veneza grabs Manny, tugging so he'll leave Theater Guy there on the ground. He doesn't want to. If the cops arrive first, there's a strong chance they'll arrest Theater Guy for the break-in. If he could just make sure the paramedics arrive first, and that the cops think the alarm is just a mechanical error... He touches the ground next to his knee and reaches into it, groping for the feel of city power --

He finds echoes of old audience frustration and annoyed staff and prematurely shutdown vendor services... but these energies will not move in response to his will. What's there feels different from all the other times he's ever used city power -- clotted, somehow.

"Dude," Veneza says, giving him a hard yank. They can hear sirens outside the park, coming closer. "Come on, man, I ain't doing Rikers for you!"

Grinding his teeth in frustration, Manny lets Veneza pull him away. They book it for Central Park West again, zigging southward first since there are woods and rock hills in that direction that can obscure their route for anyone trying to put them on TMZ.

In their wake, the Delacourte's alarm blares until sirens drown it out.

TWWM Deleted Scene 1 by N. K. Jemisin is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.

#the world we make #the great cities #deleted scene #answered asks

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plutosexc · 1 year

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— Mitsuya BF! Headcanons —

✧ pairing ; mitsuya takashi x gn!reader

✧ warnings + genre ; none + fluff, writing is informal at some parts

✧ a/n ; it's been a hot min since i actually wrote somethin, so pls enjoy. reblogs are appreciated :))

꠵ First off, Mitsuya Takashi is a family man. He’s the kind of guy you’d be excited to introduce to your parents. Especially if you have siblings, he’d be so sweet to them bc he has sisters of his own.

꠵ Mitsuya isn’t really big on gift-giving. Of course, he’ll buy you something if he knows you want it bc anything to make you happy. But his love language is naturally acts of service with a little words of affirmation.

꠵ There was one instance you were swamped with work at school and had to stay some extra hours to complete a group project, but you also had to pick up your brother from school and grab some meat from the market. Mitsuya had asked to hang out, but you explained to him how busy you were and that you'd have no time. He offered to help, but you refused bc you're a stubborn ass. Mitsuya loved that you were independent, though sometimes it truly annoyed him.

꠵ He literally didn't listen to you. (LMFAO) Deadass was like “ok”, knowing he was gonna help you anyways. As soon as school let out, he went to pick up your brother. On the way, he stopped to buy your favorite meat from the market. (always going the extra mile 👩🏽‍💻)

꠵ Rely on him!! He loves being able to help you and he’s so used to taking care of everyone. Give him cute spa days to make him feel appreciated <3

꠵ Love. love. loves complimenting/affirming you. "You're beautiful." "You look good in anything you wear." "You're so smart angel." "I'm always here for you." I just know he loves pet names.

꠵ He'd definitely send you messages in the morning that read something like, "have a good day pretty, let me know if you need anything :)" and night messages that read something like, "goodnight angel, i hope you sleep well!"

꠵ Mitusya absolutely adores your voice. It doesn't matter what you're talking about, but he'll listen attentively. The way this boy is so down bad for you, he can listen for hours. He gets so happy when you talk to him about your interests. Honestly, he's just grateful you trust him enough to share it with him.

꠵ Anyone who knows Mitsuya knows that he's very observant and can quickly pick up when you're upset. He'd talk to you about it, but if you're not ready then he won't pressure you. Mitsuya respects your boundaries and wants you to feel comfortable with him, so he moves at your pace.

꠵ Mitsuya loves watching you do the little things like tying your hair, or your face when you're super focused, picking out your outfit for the day, etc. He's just completely enamored with you bc you're his angel <33

꠵ Not really the jealous type because he knows you only have eyes for him and he's secure in the relationship. (not even on some cocky shit) But this is not to say that sometimes things don't get to him.

꠵ One time you just kept talking about this guy you had seen on the train and how cool he was dressed. I mean you went on and on, so Mitsuya politely shut you up with a kiss. It took you by surprise at first, but then you realized he was probably feeling a little jealous. We cannot be having the best boy feeling jealous. Sooo you were extra touchy n affectionate after to make up for it. (he ate that shit up fr)

꠵ Whenever he gets the chance, he takes you on night walks and you guys listen to his playlist while holding hands. (he made you a playlist idc what anyone says) Mitsuya is usually very busy, but he'll make time for you guys to spend alone together. He starts going through withdrawals when he hasn't seen you for too long. (no joke)

꠵ Overall Mitsuya is just the best boy!!! He'd love you, support you, take care of you and push you to do your best. (basically find urself a Mitsuya)

✧ taglist | taglist form

@mypimpademia @lilsparkyswife @royalelusts @racistareversa @b4ngal @brithedemonspawn @0risha @koulia @crapimahuman @shujisprettybabe @sukunasbabymama @haruchyio @taskilla @ccxiia @babydaddyleorio @fiona782 @ordinarycloud @sscarchiyo @passionateuchiha

✧ a/n ; i havent written in a while so i apologize if it’s not as good as my other works, but i’ll wrk on it. ty for reading :)

#— sim writes for tokyo revengers #mitsuya x you #mitsuya takashi headcanons #mitsuya hcs #takashi mitsuya x reader #mitsuya takashi #tokyo revengers mitsuya #mitsuya fluff #mitsuya headcanons #mitsuya takashi fluff #mitsuya takashi x reader #mitsuya imagines #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fluff #tokrev mitsuya #mitsuya tr #takashi mitsuya

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athousandbyeol · 8 months

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discussion #10 (only friends): topboston's car scene is proof that mew IS top's ultimate weakness [episode 3 recap]

it was devastating. that car scene. but aside from the hot and steamy exchange topboston shared in the now-broken car, there are a few things i want to point out in episode 3 (in general), and also the important topboston scene that is the start of top and boston's downfall.

this post was written right after i woke up. therefore, i apologise for the incoherence.

as always, please take my discussion posts with a grain of salt.

let's begin.

mew could've saved top from a (destined) rebound of insecurity

i think mew could've prevented the topboston car sex from happening if he let top stay the night, or at least let him in his room for a while. because we know top was willing to go to lengths just to be the best version of himself to mew. he was willing to change and serve mew whenever he could.

i think, at this point, top's feelings for mew have grown into something quite complex and profound, but his approach is somewhat hesitant and a bit forceful (?) as he insists mew is his boyfriend even though they haven't gone official, especially since mew said they 'aren't boyfriends yet.' nonetheless, it's sad to see top's persistence is only valid when he's trying to prove a point to everyone else but mew. he tried showing this 'mew's my boyfriend'' agenda to mainly, ray, his sole opponent, the trigger of top's insecurity and fear.

however, i also believe, along the line, mew has developed trust in top, possibly thinking top might've become a better person and sensed top's behavioural change (mainly sincerity) after they spent more time together. the silent disco scene was very crucial as the lyrics are a foreshadowing to many things: 1) mew isn't the good guy we (the audience and the friend group, top included) perceived him to be (he didn't sing some parts of the song, will be explained after this), and 2) top's death, even though i despise entertaining the idea there will be main character death in p'jojo's works, instead of thinking of this as literal death, i want to believe (for now), it's the 'death' of top's egoistic/confident/brash personality and his previous lifestyle. at the end of the drama, he might no longer be the villain as he finally accepted and embraced the better side that mew helped top discover.

sidetrack: a foreshadowing of topmew's future dynamic?

top sings this line;

this line;

and this line;

mew sings only this line (sorry because this screenshot isn't doing the scene justice);

and topmew sing this line together;

who's the he in this context? i don't have the slightest idea. it might be the 'new' top, or it's just mew finding/taking comfort in celibacy again (i wrote a prediction post for every pairing's ending here if you're interested to read it).

anyway, this is something we have to keep in mind. the foreshadowing in this scene alone is INSANE. but i regress by saying they're the absolute cutest and fluffiest doofus in this scene. top was having so much fun with mew and vice versa. they're enjoying each other's company. the smile on top's face was so bright, and the glint in his eyes was so vibrant. top looked sincerely happy with mew, and i like that a lot. //yet this scene teared me up when i was retrieving the screenshots. it broke me again. they could've been so happy without anything else coming their way. :( can't my babies be happy for once? goodness.

discomfort and distrust; top lost the battle with himself

in the car, top looked queasy. he was anxious from the small talk he had with boston in the kitchen. and he projected that frustration to ray as he insisted on taking his boyfriend home. in one way or another, top might not want mew to mingle with ray any longer, especially since mew was a bit tipsy and he was afraid that mew and ray would do something more than just acts of friendliness. however, top didn't save himself from the cunningness of boston's trap as he thought he had things under control.

again, as i mentioned in many of my discussion posts, top takes immense pride in himself and he won't let anyone topple that ego of his because he's the fcuking top tanin- everyone bowed down to him and worshipped him because of his impeccable skills in bed.

side note: this truly breaks my heart because it seems everyone only sees top as one thing: a sex God. that stranger (i don't want to address him by his name because i'm just very petty) who walked to top and freaking said all those bullshits in front of mew— in my eyes, top appeared guilty almost, and uncomfortable for letting mew witnessed and listened to 'the real' top from a stranger that once accompanied his sleepless night.

top was fidgety and tried to invert mew's attention elsewhere, not on him—

—which is ironic, considering he always enjoyed the attention/interest people have in him. but with mew, it's always different.

side note (2): again, why the hell does everyone think they know top better than he knows himself? this somehow shows top's struggle of understanding/determining/differentiating his truest identity as people only perceive him as a pleasure-giver and NOTHING more. what people say tends to get into our heads, and it's not weird if top believes that he's just this and nothing else.

but mew helps him see that he's capable of making mew happy, of taking care of mew and being the best version of himself; this assumption is waiting to be proven when top says, "but with mew, i just want to make you as happy as possible." it looks like top has found a purpose in life— he wants to make mew happy. he wants the person he loves to be happy. //that's so heartbreaking just to think of it...

back to the car scene, i don't know how the hell boston got that video of mewray (possibly) kissing, but that was just a nominal and lowly move from boston.

that was disgusting (insert the lee minho meme), and it showed just how evil boston is. he didn't care if mew and ray were his friends or whoever, as long as he got what he wanted— top's attention/trust/d*ck— he was willing to backstab his so-called-friends. he really used the one thing top was afraid of— the truth behind mewray's closeness— to manipulate top.

additonally, as mew had this vision of top in mind (confident, self-centred, etc), top also had this image of mew in mind (nice, helpful, etc). i guess he had always seen mew as the kind/naive/innocent type, especially since he wore that white wristband (a potent indication that mew was never really interested in romantic relationships and anything messy)—

—the first time they met. so top was afraid of the allegations coming true— perhaps mew wasn't a virgin, after all. it was all a lie. was mew lying to him all along?

notably, this also didn't come from mew's mouth— his virginity.

it's always the topic that BOSTON and mew's friends (chueam, i love you, but this shouldn't be a concern to you, really) brought up, showing just how insecure he was in that one thing mew STILL possessed, a charm that lured top into wanting to have a romantic/steady relationship with mew and ignored boston's constant cry of convincing top 'they are the same'. and how contradicting? boston said himself— mew is a 'sweet' virgin (retrieved from episode 1 part 1). so the video he showed to top can possibly be edited. //if it's true, fcuk you, boston. fcuk you.

when he saw the clip, top asked when it happened, and boston answered 2 years ago. here, we can already draw a conclusion that (if it was legit), it happened ONLY ONCE, and it wasn't a recurring thing because, a throwback to ep 1, mew clearly said, "i'm not someone like boston."

if mew was boston, it would've been more than just once— whatever mew was proclaimed to do with ray. but we know mew is a man of his own. he has always been so comfortable with celibacy. however, top's judgement was rather clouded and bugged because 1) he didn't trust mew fully (as mew didn't trust him previously), 2) he was insecure because mew might still choose ray over him, and 3) the idea of mew doing it with ray while being in this undefined relationship with top was bruising his ego/pride. so he allowed boston to do his way with top, because top felt he was losing control of himself. and the only thing that could help top regain that power was through boston.

(he lost the battle with himself. really. it was just top and the demons in his head. the devils won. top gave in. again, fcuk you, boston.)

in this post, i mentioned that boston was always susceptible and open to top. he liked it when top caved into him. but the idea was top has always been using/thinking that boston could help him retrieve composure because boston was so easy to get— boston was always ready to be controlled and handled by top. but, when top met mew, he was interested and determined to win mew over becaue he was tired of 'people who already knew too much in bed.' and always, this was the sole reason of boston's anger and annoyance— mew has something desirable that boston no longer possessed— virginity/decency.

so top resorted to boston because he couldn't take the confirmation that mew— the person he was starting to (genuinely) like— wasn't the person he had in mind. so the car scene is proof that yes, mew is top's ultimate weakness. and in episode 3, it wasn't about mew manipulating top or anything; it's boston using mew as a tool to convince and influence top into believing that mew isn't who top believed he was. boston played with top's only weakness— mew.

however, top could've stayed. he could've put a stronger fight. i think the old top— the confident top— would insist on taking mew home. he wouldn't back away this easily (throwback to ep 1 when mew said he couldn't do this with top, but top said they didn't have to know each other to have sex. after that, he kissed mew again to keep the mood going, but mew pushed him and stopped top from continuing).

side note: i think top really wanted to stay because he knew what would happen if he went to boston. but mew said he was fine and top respected mew. he didn't want to argue or make mew unhappy. mew was his priority, and he abided by the boundaries set in this relationship. this has already opened up a new horizon to us; this is what top could be if he's allowed to have a morsel of true love. he trusted mew (although it had wavered) and went to boston.

top was known to be persistent, but he gave in so quickly when mew said he was fine alone. looking back at this, i believe now that top really likes mew. that's why this killed him— the idea of mew having a secret relationship with ray behind top's back.

additionally, it breaks my heart after witnessing the hurt in top's eyes once boston leaned closer and kissed his neck. he was on the verge of crying. he seemed a bit lost, helpless and hopeless. i guess at that point, top was trying to think wisely, to make a final judgement/say to the ideas he had in mind and the verdict(s) boston showed him. he was trying to hold onto that thin slither of hope that it wasn't true because mew couldn't have done that, could he?

but i guess top didn't consider or remember mew saying so blatantly, "i'm not like boston." because it's true— mew is never boston. unlike boston, who's insecure and pretty much volatile and a narcissist, mew is empathetic, understanding, kind and has his own set of flaws, but rather a decent human being. he's so different from boston. sadly, top couldn't differentiate that stark disparity, that one thing top liked about mew when he first saw him— mew's solitude.

conclusion

i said in this post that topmew will have their first time in episode 4, and it's happening. it fits the timeline of their budding relationship really well, as they now have reached equilibrium. top will confront mew in episode 4 and ask him about ray. mew will tell the truth because he's never a liar. possibly, that will make top trust mew again.

possibly, next week, we will see top distancing himself from mew at the start of the episode, and mew might feel sad/confused about it, so the first confrontation ensues— topmew sorting out their feelings for each other. mew willingly wants to have sex with top, an indication that mew is ready to fully accept top into his life— to be all over top as he genuinely likes top now (and this can be the start of mew's transformation from good to evil)— to admit he loves top and top is his boyfriend. they're finally on the same page.

however, things will go down the gutters in episode 6 since forcebook said it's the story's climax. yet, i believe episode 5 will be their 'honeymoon' phase, and i personally want that to happen. it'll make the pain of separation even more delicious as we have happy memories of them in our riverbank of recollections.

i'm sorry for this incoherent and messy discussion. i still have so many thoughts in mind, but this is the only thing i can pen down as of now. the car scene is still breaking me, and i just don't know. (I wrote this as soon as i woke up. therefore, i'm sorry. again.)

anyway, thanks for reading this post. :)

//btw, i watched dangerous romance yesterday, and i'm in love. that drama is easily one of the best series of the year for me. it's so good.//

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