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c0sm1cp0tat0 · 1 month ago

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Yandere! Saja Boys x Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6.

Accept it. Accept it. Accept....it??

Accept their feelings for you?? But you didn't know how. Did they demand you to reciprocate or merely stop resisting their feelings? You didn't even know WHAT feelings they meant, either.

Did they really like you?? Five of them? Five men, no, demons? That was ridiculous. They must not know what temporary attraction is. Thats why they keep driving you crazy and telling you how they'd die and kill for you.

You stumbled now after your side jabbed into a piece of furniture. You were on the run. On the run as in, through their huge ass penthouse, that is.

"Come on, [Y/N]~ The fans want it, so you can't run from ittt~!!" Abby's voice was like the eery hiss of a very beautifully patterned, very poisonous snake in your ear. He was hot on you heels; he didn't even need to try. Infact, you sussed out that you were actually the only one running here. He was about to catch up to you with just his relaxed strides.

You're wondering what's happening right now? A week ago exactly, you'd signed to be their manager. You were allowed back home-- briefly. But then you were thrown into this quick sand-pit of gigs, fan meets, approving merch. Other things that you could have sworn they were able to do themselves.

You spent more time with them that you ever had when they held you captive. You had a feeling they had a part to play in that.

And somewhere along the way, the fans had sussed out a few things. The prime one being how all five of the members looked at you when you weren't looking. That person they all said they already liked?? I wonder who they guessed that out to be.

The members didn't even care. They'd throw their arms around you in public. Fix you with this 'you're making me feel some typa-way' kind of stare while ON CAMERA. Watch you much too intently as your sorted through paperwork during fan meets. Yes, fan meets, as in the one event in which they're supposed to focus full attention on their FANS.

But the worst thing is, you'd expected the fans to do something. To rage. To demand refunds for the lack of attention. And then the Saja Boys would have to fire you and you'd be free. Instead?? You saw comments under the upload of the meet on Youtube.

"Guys GUYS GUYS. The Saja men are hot n all... but hear me out....THEIR MANAGER."

"Omg yea"

"She's clueless man"

"They're S. M. I. T. T. E. N."

"She's adorableee I wanna carry her in my pockettt"

"TAKES CARE OF THEM SO WELL OMG"

Now, there were things online. Fanart. Fanfiction. Direct messages to you, to the members. Asking if you were together. Asking for something you learned as fanservice.

There were shipwars. Now, Jinu had explained this one to you but you still didn't quite get it. Fans... fighting over...who you looked best with?

There were comments that you had to read through in order to delete the hateful ones.

"OH. EM. GEE. [Y/N] and Abby. have y'all SEEN the size difference?? So cute!!!"

"Dumb bitch, [Y/N] X MYSTERY for LIFE have you seen them?? [Y/N] literally has him on an invisible leash!!"

"I don't know, I think I like Jinu and [Y/N]'s love-hate relationship better. Remember when he hugged her and she called him a melonhead?? ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ XD,"

"HAHA uncultured swines, y'all ever heard of Baby x [Y/N] x Romance??"

"TRY ME, OT6 FOR THE RUN AHHHHH"

You'd shut down the laptop then. It was too late to delete those either way; the company PR had already seen.

And decided that they could make some bank off of this. And when a higher-up decides that there's money to be made?? You're delusional if you think you're getting away unscathed.

To top it all off, the Saja Boys were all too happy to encourage this shipping nonsense, too.

So here you were, dashing from the truth. Panting, eyes widened. You kept on looking back. You were going in circles around the huge penthouse complex. Through every single room. By now, you were in a full-on sprint. You looked back. Abby was still right behind you.

And you were so busy looking back, you didn't notice the solid chest that you were about to bash into.

"Don't you know we can teleport? Tsk, tsk, tsk." Jinu tutted with a smile, clawed finger coming under your chin and lifting it so that you looked up at him like an angry albeit guilty child.

Ten minutes later you were pushed into a fancy studio. Tried to slip away, was dragged right back.

The professional photographer hired looks you up and down, chewing his gum obnoxiously loud. He had you figured out in seconds.

"Hmmm, not a normal manager are you? Quite young. Not a bad face. Not bad at all." He paused, regarding your tense shoulders. "Relax yourself hun, you're gonna earn in millions for this."

The first reference pose he showed you already had you rushing for the exit.

"Oh no no no you don't." Jinu smiled, grabbing you by the collar and lifting you right off your feet.

"You're our manager now. Keeping the fans happy is one of your commitments. This is one of your commitments."

So now, you found yourself propped upon Abby's lap. Your feet weren't touching the ground. He'd been grinning like a madman as you struggled to climb into his lap and he'd lifted you up, helping you. Now he was all professional. Arm loosely draped around your waist, leaned back. Staring at the camera with sensuality.

Your arms were twitching around his neck, aching to tear away. under your own biceps, you could feel his own, thrice the size of yours and solid as a rock, flexing.

You only realized now how big he truly was.

While you'd lost weight out of stress, he'd become even more beefy in preparation for the photo shoot.

He could feel you slowly start to tremble. Smiling in pleasure, he leaned in, "Don't worry darling, I won't crush you." He knew you were wary of him in particular due to his physique. Such a caution was...how does he say it... fucking adorable.

"Yeessss...yes yes yess give me all that emotion. The anxiety." Photo dude's eyes swivelled to Abby, "The attraction. [Y/N], don't be shy and lean in a bit closer, will ya babe? It's not everyday you get to sit on the lap of a top idol."

But you didn't want to. The photographer was only doing the top half of your bodies, so it couldn't properly be seen that you were on his fucking lap. Your left leg was subconsciously stretching, trying to reach the ground. How would your boyfriend react to this if he were still alive? Your frown deepened.

While the members leaned into fully assess the photos captured, their eyes sparkling with facination, you hung back, wondering if you could make a break for it now.

The next round was just as if not even more appalling. You were hiccuping, feet tripping and sliding against the floor as you tried to book it to the door. Jinu was smiling happily at the concerned-looking photographer. His large hand held the back of your collar, effectively preventing your escape.

"Sorry, she's very shy."

The photographer tuts, almost pityingly, "Oh, darling darling, we can't have this shyness in the entertainment industry...not if you wanna make the big bucks."

The rest of the member's eyes swivelled and darkened as the man smeared lipstick carefully over your rosebud lips.

While you were still fighting the urge to sprint, he had the audacity to even cheer you on "Don't be shy, get that man!!"

So you walked hesitantly towards Romance, hands shaking in tiny fists. He was leaned back lazily on the red velvet sofa being used. One side of his pretty lips quirked up. Lips that were also painted in that same shade as yours.

He beckoned you with a finger. And when you got barely into arms reach, he reached out and snatched you towards him.

"The whole face, he said, baby." The pinkette man almost snarled into your ear, fine brows furrowed cockily as his small smirk grew into a full on wicked smile.

You winced. Romance didn't hold you still or anything. You had to do it yourself. The handsome pinkette leaned in, cedarwood and rose scent engulfing you. His smirk returns, entertained as he notices your knuckles whitening on the couch fabric, stopping yourself from pulling away.

"We don't got all day." The photographer snarked.

Romance had no qualms of speeding it up. His large hands framed your face. At each peck on your cheek, your nose, your chin and forehead, you winced. You were trying not to struggle. But your legs still squirmed in protest. It was so adorable.

Soon, your face was covered in lipstick prints. Romance's eyes began to glow. He shut it down immediately. His marks. All over your pretty little face Fuck.

Click, click, click.

You tried not to wince at every audible shutter of the camera.

"Oh lord, even I would pay for these. Look at the emotions in his eyes."

When it came your turn, Roman actually had to tighten his hold to stop you from shuffling away, "Keep tryna chicken out, huh? Too bad, you can't because you already signed the contract~" It was rasped in your ear.

You shook off his grip, eyebrows tight in frustration and determination. But it wavered way too easily as one of the boys whistled. Probably Abby. "Come on, sweets!! Just like you did to Jinu that night!!"

The photographer looked at the man with wide eyes then looked back to you. You smiled crookedly, trying to appear innocent. But that wasn't going to get you out of this. Nothing was.

So you shut your eyes, and got to work.

When you opened your eyes, Romance was slumped in your arms. Just like your own, every inch of his face was covered in hot pink lip prints almost matching his hair. Mouth in a blissed-out smile. Face heated. It was like he was on something.

The camera shutter went off, "Excellent," The photographer breathed, eyeing the shots with wonder.

Mystery's reference one had you stumbling. "Is this...really okay to publish to fans??"

"Oh, darling," Photography guy chuckled like he knew something you didn't. But you knew something too; that you didn't fucking want to know what he knew.

So you stood, as they put a fucking collar around Mystery's muscular neck. Put a leash on the collar and tied an intricate knot around your wrist with the end of it.

And while Malak looked thrilled at the idea of being tied to you, you shook your wrist, eyeing the ribbon unaffectionately.

"Woah!" Your finger dug into his back when he delves for your neck. You weren't used to such a sensitive place being touched. Your other hand went to his hair, tightening on his scalp.

"That's it, put those big arms 'round her, champ!! Nuzzle your face in a bit more. Nice and tight now!!"

And oh god, the blue-grey haired boy didn't have to be told twice.

You hadn't thought much about it before. But now they were all pressing into you one after the other and you couldn't help but notice how big they all were. Even Baby, the smallest of them all was much taller than you.

"How much longer?" You couldn't help but mumble now, as you sat leaned back against Baby's chest as per the photographer's instructions. His legs were on either side of you. He'd locked them around you at some point and laughed when you couldn't get free. But he did let go. You still couldn't flee though.

"Trés adorable!! Just like that!! Put your arms around her neck!!" The photographer couldn't even hear you. He was gushing over the sight of you two together. You just didn't understand the appeal.

You actually forced yourself to look at the photos this time. They were aesthetically pleasing to say in the least. Though you didn't like the concept, the photographer had made them into a masterpiece. In some shots Beni looked cocky, smiling at you satisfiedly from the back. In others, he looked at you with this...mix of feelings in his eye.

You looked back at him now and he stared back unwaveringly. His lips didn't turn up into that mean cocky smirk or anything as usual. It was his large eyes that spoke to you instead. Just... pure emotions. Vulnerability. Want. Deprivation. He was spilling himself out to you without even speaking. Without even hesitating.

"Last member, honey. Gee-wizz you must be having the time of your life." Photo guy said jokingly but also seriously you didn't know which it was. You hoped it was joke. You were not having fun.

Especially when Jinu grabbed your shoulders and steered you back to the couch.

You were in shorts. you could feel the taut fabric of his pants as photo dude directed you to put your leg over his. You were told to go closer and you hesitated.

"Come onnnn, you kissed me before without hesitation. You're thinking for this??" This guy had a slap with his name on it lined up if he didn't shut up.

It was the second time photography guy's eyes almost popped out of his skull. You scooted closer to Jinu and quickly said, "Jokes, ahaha. Jinu's really funny off camera." You couldn't help but wince. What a lie. Jinu made you do the opposite of laugh. The amount of times you'd held back tears at the idea of being unable to leave their house, god.

His hand was now on your ankle, caressing. Moving up further. Photo guy was drinking this up. "Juuust like that. Keep looking at her like that."

He wouldn't say much about your emotions. Probably because he could read out clearly how badly you wanted to leave from here. You were sick of being surrounded by these male demons. But no one would understand.

⌗☾︎ ‧₊˚ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶⋅₊˚☽︎⌗

It was almost as if they knew how badly they'd pushed you the last day. Today, you were allowed home while the editors did their work on the shots and the bodyguards alone escorted the boys to their gig.

And it was almost as if your body knew how fucking mentally drained you were. The next minute you got home, you were out cold in your own sweet, sweet bed.

Now, 2pm the next day and you were still dead to the world. Your small form submerged in the sheets. Not silken soft ones from the penthouse, but your own. Mediocre cotton with coffee stains. You were in heaven; a dreamless sleep like no other.

You weren't on alert. You were safe in your own home. Your own personal space.

You loved your personal space. But guess what? The Saja Boys love your personal space too.

While you were passed out still, your front door opened. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. She doesn't even have an extra lock on the door." The low voice of Jinu buzzed in the background.

Baby Saja was the first to find your curled up form, barely taking up half your bed. And yet so comfortably asleep.

"Damn, she's exhausted."

"We worked her to the bone so that she'd stay," Abby shrugged, huge form leaning upon the door frame with his arms crossed.

Romance narrowed his eyes. Was he jealous of your bed? Maybe. His hand closed around one of the bed posts. He shook it hard. The entire bed shook. Self satisfied he stood up straight. "This beds rickety. Unsafe for her."

They were talking so carelessly loud. Mystery wasn't talking but was creating his own racket as he crawled onto the bed beside you. Feeling the sheets, grimacing in dissaproval when he sees they're not soft and luxurious like theirs. But you weren't stirring.

You were on your stomach, small arms closed around your head pillow as you mushed it up close to your face. It wasn't difficult for the boys to admire you like this.

Leaning in, pecking your face, stroking your hair. Running their hands down the dips and curves of your body through the duvet. Enamoured, they were. Good for you, you didn't wake up and notice.

"Wakey wakey baby~ We got pizza. It's your favourite; BBQ chicken." Jinu smiled, running his hand through your hair. Never had they seen you in such a state of peace and calm and vulnerability. Even when you slept over at theirs, you forever looked high on alert. Eyebrows knitted together, mumbling as if you were attempting to repell these demons even in your sleep.

You stirred, and turned over, still dozing. They watched, calmly. Until Abby, the more thoughtless and callous of them all, scooped up your small form into his arms. He liked having you against his muscles like this. It was a fixation for him at the moment; how pliant and clueless and soft you were between his arms.

It was a small of a thing as an all-too-familiar ghost of breath against your neck that had you jolting awake. You opened your mouth for a curse but your throat was all closed up from sleep.

You scrambled away and sat up, rubbing your eyes. You chose to ignore the way you were woken up, "How do you know my favourite-??"

They exchanged looks. They may or may not have looked under your car seats for takeaway bills and learnt the contents off by heart.

They wanted to tell you, but they shrugged instead. "All humans like pizza. And these just seemed to be popular toppings."

You walked straight past them to the bathroom, yawning as you did so. They sighed in relief. Thank god you were too tired to give them second thoughts. At the same time they wanted your thoughts though. Seconds, thirds, all of them.

You were an angelic little thing. All flushed cheeks and droopy eyes. Voice husky. Unable to even comprehend what they were saying properly because you were too disoriented. It was the first time they got to see what you were really like after an actual deep sleep. You were fucking ethereal.

In a loose knit sweater and the smallest fucking sleep shorts, you were walking sin and had no idea about it.

Mystery smiled, ringed fingers stroking against the coarse fabric of your pillow. It was an immense joy that filled him as he watched you obliviously walk into the bathroom. He was about to make good on your promise to him.

⌗☾︎ ‧₊˚ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶⋅₊˚☽︎⌗

TAGLIST ༉‧₊˚✧↳ @yumekono @levifiance @amery-benson-cvii @wantstoliveinfantasy @osball @apelepikozume @st3f13ily @little-ponkan @strayharmony943 @lazy-panther @scara-simp69 @p1nkpaperstars @ryuucollapse @tatsuri-zomushiki @crescent-z @wpdarlingpan @natllo @daikiswife @kinichportablecharger @realifezompire @i-am-here3 @daiyanomochi @elevenbts @hornehlittleweeblet @reni502 @nonetheartist @sanaxo-o @mshope16 @calmmell @luna-looniesblog @doodle-with-rhy @starr-matterr @fidenciocryptidcreechur @chirikoheina @ceramic-raven @whatdoesthesenpai @megapintofmilkshake @lover-girl009 @yandereaficionado @moon0goddess @neuvilletteswife4ever @hurts-my-brain @consecratedvampire91 @moonchildjae00 @coolnekochan9961 @misdollface

#male yandere #obssessed #yandere x reader #yandere x you #kpop demon hunters #saja boys x reader #yandere saja boys x reader #kpop #saja boys #saja boys x you #kpdh

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pansexualkiba · 1 month ago

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You're now a boss battle!

You already know what the hell is going on. You're sitting around in a DUNGEON, probably feeling yourself, probably making life rough for the guys around you, probably just genuinely being a good dude. When UH OH! Some team of HOOLIGANS and RAPSCALLIONS are here to fuck your shit up!

NOT IF YOU CAN HELP IT!

Of course you're powerful, you're a BOSS BATTLE. But every boss battle needs some sort of gimmick! You need a STATUS EFFECT!

NOW SPIN THE WHEEL TO DETERMINE THIS STATUS.

Share this with your friends. And enemies. I don't mind which.

Edit: UNLESS STATED YOU ARE CASTING THESE ON THE OPPONENT. I'm not sure HOW we have this confusion but HEY

Edit2: Now that it's done, here's a full list under the cut!

First, a glossary of STATS:

HP and MP are what comprise a person's BEING! HP are your HIT POINTS, the AMOUNT OF CUMULATIVE DAMAGE you can take before falling in battle. MP fuels SPECIAL ABILITIES, like MAGIC and THROWING YOUR SWORD LIKE A BOOMERANG. If you run out, you can't USE THEM. Additionally, different skills cost different levels of MP (You can't expect DEATH METAL to be as cheap as SHADE!), so keep that in mind as well!

STRENGTH and MAGIC determine the power of PHYSICAL and MAGICAL attacks, of course! DEFENSE and MIND determine how well you resist damage of their respective kinds! EVERYONE HAS DIFFERENT LEVELS OF EACH! Generally, being really good in MAGIC and MIND makes you kind of FRAIL, and VICE-VERSA! It's why people generally travel in PARTIES, to COVER EACH OTHER!

EVASION and ACCURACY are two sides of the same coin: HOW WELL AN ATTACK WILL HIT. As a rule, powerful abilities tend towards low accuracy, so either BUFFING YOUR ACCURACY or DEBUFFING OPPONENT EVASION will mitigate that. Likewise, BUFFING YOUR EVASION or DEBUFFING OPPONENT ACCURACY will let you dodge otherwise-sure hits. Generally, high accuracy will cancel out high evasion, and vice-versa.

Finally, ELEMENTAL RESISTANCES. There are several magical elements, including FIRE, ICE, POISON, and DARK. Having a RESISTANCE will mitigate the RESPECTIVE DAMAGE. Allegedly, if your resistance reaches ABOVE 100%, you can HEAL INSTEAD.

A BUFF and a DEBUFF affect the ABOVE STATS. Buffs INCREASE said stats, and debuffs DECREASE the same. BOTH are TEMPORARY! They DECAY over time, and GO AWAY when the battle's over!

That's the tutorial done. Here's the AILMENTS! One could call them STATUS EFFECTS, from the way they AFFECT the STATUS... But I won't. (Note: unless stated otherwise, Ailments are TEMPORARY; they will EVENTUALLY GO AWAY)

STAT DEBUFFS

PLAGUE: MAX HP is HALVED! In visual terms, this means that the affected goes from a maximum of, say, 600 HP to 300 HP! When this is healed, MAX HP returns to normal, but CURRENT HP REMAINS THE SAME!

HEX: MAX MP is HALVED! In visual terms, this means the affected goes from, say, 100 MP to 50 MP! This WILL lock some people out of their more POWERFUL ABILITIES, sooooo...

WEAKEN: Reduces STRENGTH and MAGIC! This also continues INCREMENTALLY - DECAY will pause until WEAKEN wears off! GET WEAK.

TIRED: Reduces DEFENSE and MIND! Like Weaken, this is INCREMENTAL, and these debuffs WILL NOT DECAY until Tired wears off! GET TIRED.

BLIND: ACCURACY IS HALVED! Better use attacks that DON'T MISS, or HIT EVERYTHING!

JINX: REVERSES ACTUVE BUFFS INTO DEBUFFS! This does not turn debuffs into buffs! Furthermore, while Jinxed, ALL FURTHER BUFFS WILL INVERT!

UNLUCKY: The afflicted will have WORSE LUCK! Their attacks will miss more, they'll get hit by inaccurate attacks, they'll land LESS CRITICAL HITS, and they'll be MORE SUSCEPTIBLE to AILMENTS!

STAT BUFFS (Try to target yourself)

SHIELD: While your SHIELDS ARE UP, you take HALF DAMAGE FROM ATTACKS! Simple and easy to understand!

HASTE: On your NEXT TURN, you get an EXTRA ACTION!

INVINCIBLE: YOU TAKE NO DAMAGE!

MORALE: While this is active, you CANNOT fall below 1 HP! This makes you EFFECTIVELY IMMUNE to DOOM and DEATH!

BRAVE: You are now IMMUNE to Critical Hits! Additionally, your Crit Chance is now DOUBLED!

IMMUNE: You are UNAFFECTED by other AILMENTS!

CUTE: You CANNOT BE TARGETED FOR ATTACKS! This remains up even if you're the LAST ONE STANDING! Of course, you'll still get hit by COLLATERAL DAMAGE from MULTI-TARGET MOVES...

REFLECT: For any damage you take, INFLICT HALF OF THAT ON THE OPPONENT!

VAMPIRE: DRAIN HP from the opponent with EVERY ATTACK! You will gain HALF of the damage you give as HP!

LEECH: DRAIN MP from the opponent with EVERY ATTACK! You will gain ONE THIRD of the damage you give as MP, while DEPLETING THEIRS!

REGEN: HEAL HP EVERY TURN!

LUCKY: Your luck IMPROVES! Better chances to hit, evade, and crit! Secondary effects have a GREATER CHANCE of occuring!

DAMAGE OVER TIME! Each is effectively the same thing, so I'll only point out their ELEMENT and any SPECIAL PROPERTIES.

BURN: FIRE

DROWN: WATER

SALT: EARTH

SHOCK: THUNDER

FROST: ICE

POISON: POISON

MIASMA: DARK

BLIGHT: LIGHT

BLEED: No element. Damage INCREASES EACH TURN. Can be healed with any healing spell.

DESPAIR: Drains MP instead of HP.

BEES: A swarm of bees. Scales off of DEFENSE, so it's actually rather weak. To make up for this, they will SWARM THE WHOLE PARTY until EVERYONE IS BEING DAMAGED OVER TIME.

WEAKNESSES. These make you MORE WEAK to a GIVEN ELEMENT. As their main difference is as such, I will mainly denote DIFFERENCES.

DRY: FIRE. Can be cured with a WATER SPELL.

WET: ICE and THUNDER. Can be cured with a FIRE SPELL.

HEAVY: EARTH. Makes you resist WIND.

LIGHT: WIND. Makes you resist EARTH.

WOUND: POISON. Can be cured with any healing spell.

PANIC: DARK

SCORN: LIGHT

UNDEAD: If the afflicted would be HEALED, they instead TAKE DAMAGE INSTEAD. This effectively makes one WEAK TO HEALING MAGIC.

SKIP A TURN. Forced inaction.

SICK. Sometimes, you'll SNEEZE, aborting your turn ENTIRELY. Can be cured with HEALING MAGIC, but UNLUCKY makes it into PLAGUE.

DANCE: You're dancing TOO MUCH to take your turn, but your EVASION is buffed.

BERSERK: You skip your turn in favor of a REGULAR ATTACK, but your STRENGTH is boosted.

HAPPY: A regular TURN SKIP. If a HAPPY opponent is defeated, you get EXTRA MONEY.

STUN: JUST A TURN SKIP. NO FRILLS OR BELLS. THE STANDARD.

SLEEP: INDEFINITE TURN SKIPS. Can be aborted early by being HIT.

HUNGRY: SKIP TURN in favor of consuming something from the inventory.

MISCELLANEOUS

TARGET: ALL ATTACKS WILL HIT THE AFFLICTED. This overrides CUTE.

IGNITE: In a set amount of turns, the afflicted will BLOW UP, doing HEAVY FIRE damage to themself and lesser FIRE damage to their party. Can be cured with a WATER attack.

DOOM: In a set amount of turns, DIE. Skips the countdown under UNLUCKY. Countered ENTIRELY by MORALE. Overrides INVINCIBLE.

DEATH: DIE. Similar interactions to MORALE and INVINCIBLE as with DOOM.

LOCK: The PREVIOUS ACTION must be REPEATED until this wears off.

CONFUSE: CANNOT use the PREVIOUS ACTION until this wears off. Was mistakenly labeled as PANIC.

BAT: Turn into a BAT. HP is reduced to 1, and the opponent cannot use skills or items.

STAGGER: The NEXT hit is a GUARANTEED CRIT. Combine with BRAVE and LUCKY for CRITx3 COMBO!

SILENCE: CANNOT USE ABILITIES.

DRUNK: DO RANDOM THINGS.

CHARM: The opponent will TURN ON THEIR PARTY. If they're the only one left and STILL CHARMED, they will ATTACK THEMSELF.

STONE: The AFFLICTED is now a STONE STATUE. Their next hit will SHATTER THEM, KILLING THEM INSTANTLY. STONE can STILL BE CURED BEFORE THEN, of course, and REVIVE is a spell.

CURSE: On the next turn, turns into ANY of these AILMENTS at RANDOM. LET'S GO GAMBLING.

And, of course,

AURA: The HYPE MOMENTS Ailment. If one person has AURA, it will INSTANTLY SPREAD to EVERYONE. EACH TURN, ALL STATS WILL INCREASE. This INCLUDES HP AND MP. AURA is PERMANENT. THE BATTLE WILL BE LEGENDARY.

#picker wheel #spin the wheel #poll #tumblr polls #boss battle

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cursedcola · 8 months ago

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Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia (Here) | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: I'm part of the 'everyone underestimates Kalim Al Asim , the layers of his character and upbringing' club. Sweet does not equal being a dum dum my dudes.

Habits You Steal:

Theatrics (Inherited): Kalim talks with more than his mouth. There's body language. Watch out when this guy gets excited because he might knock over a lamp amidst a rant. Hands are flying with each embellishment. He's pacing. Jumping. Energy is seemingly endless with this one. When Kalim laughs, he does so with his entire body without reservation. Head flying back, grin wide, shoulder shaking, etc. Not that he can't replace what gets broken but - y'know. Be careful else you might get bitch slapped on accident. Which normally wouldn't hurt too much but Kalim's decked out in gold. The last thing you want is a ring imprint on your left cheek because Kalim got too excited after a card game. On that note - someone get Jamil some aspirin because that excitement is infectious. You can be the most stone-hearted edge-lord on the face of Twisted Wonderland, but eventually his infectious sunshine attitude takes hold.

"A-Ah! It's okay! We can replace the lamp, so don't worry. Are you hurt? No, no. It's really aright. I'm fine, see? You missed me - can I see your hands for a second? OIII! Can someone please bring a med-kit! Thank you!" <- Jamil's already grabbing the broom before you can say sorry. This is the last time he lets you sit anywhere near fragile objects during a game of charades - or any game. Kalim was bad enough...but at least with him fretting over the tiny cut on your palm, Jamil could clean the mess in peace. At least until you offer to pay for the lamp. Kalim's got enough tact to lie about the price, and everyone's thankful. No one wants to see the Ramshackle Prefect have a heart attack for shattering a real crystal lamp. 'cause then Kalim will cry too and it'll just be dominos from there.

Personal Space (Inherited): Kalim tears away any sense of dignity, self-preservation, and privacy that might exist. In a good way, of course. It's not that Kalim is an open person. Quite the contrary. He needs to keep a calculated distance between himself and others due to his position as an Asim. Regardless of his happy exterior, never forget that Kalim is far from an airhead. Kindness doesn't equate connection - as much as Kalim would love for everyone to be his friend. Yet for those who are in that trusted circle? He treats them like an extension of the self. His lack of shame bleeds into your own perception.

Training and Resistance (Inherited and Developed): Kalim hates that you need to do this. He rarely 'hates' anything, but he despises that you need to worry about being poisoned. What’s worse is that you refuse to have a tester, or a guard, or anything of the sort. It all started with discussing the future with Jamil, who logically brought up the complications that come with Kalim taking a partner. You couldn’t be shadowed, were in a difficult position with the headmaster, and it would only become difficult once the duo moves back to the scalding sands. Even more once you join them (as NRC is merely teaming with prideful youths, while the Scalding Sands is a free for all).

Point summary? You need to build resistance to drugs and learn what to do in a hostage situation. The former is handled by Professor Crewel, and the process was explained in excruciating detail. Jamil, who’s undergone training, was unphased but Kalim desperately wanted you to back out. Yet it would mean needing a guard - which would be hard to arrange - and so…yeah. Many weekends in the nurse’s office. You also have to complete the hostage drills all Asims and their spouses are put through. How to escape bondage, how to last an interrogation, how to navigate without magic (which you could, duh, so basically without a map when stranded), negotiate, etc.

"Are you absolutely certain that this is what you want to do? I can still hire a body guard - there are many options available back home! You can spend our next vacation at the main villa and meet with them. We can - oh. y-you're sure?... alright. If this is what you want then I'll be there through every step. Just remember to ask if you need anything. I'll come running, no matter what."

Charisma (Inherited): Everyone underestimates just how dangerous Kalim is. Seriously. Nothing is more risky in a school like Night Raven College than dropping your guard. It can cost you your life - or at the very least leave you indebted to someone you do not want having dirt over your head (*cough*ACertianCephalopod*cough*)The gossip grapevine is a menace. Everyone has their pride. Everyone has their secrets. Everyone holds each other at arm’s length, even if you’re cordial or friendly. Everyone except Kalim, who has this innate ability to pry the most dirty secrets out of you simply through his nonchalant attitude. Nothing drops another’s guard quicker than a sense of security and superiority. People often mistake his genuine heart for nativity. They fail to recognize that it’s a choice, and deep down he is aware that the Al Asim name places him high above the people he sees as friends.

"Hm? Isn't that the alchemic lab on potionomics meant for second years? You're so smart! I didn't get to do that lab until just a few months ago! - it's not yours? Then why are you working on it?" <- game. set. match. You think he doesn't know what your handwriting looks like? He saw you lingering outside Crewel's classroom earlier and wanted to know why. Saw an opening. Took it. Is happy you’re helping out one of your other friends, but just had to make sure no one was bullying you into doing their work.

Since he truly believes that despite this gap, friendships can transcend - his ability to get information is uncanny. A power he can wield intentionally if need be, in getting you to name drop any person or problem posed. It’s a great quality to have! This way he can help and support you :) Why is this an inherited trait, you might be asking? Because as the next head of Al Asim, Kalim’s been studying how to do business since he was young. He’s going to teach you. Pray tell what is born once the Ramshackle Beast Tamer learns the ways of Scarabia’s master of charisma and resident sunshine child?…Night Raven’s downfall. Power couple. Dead serious right now.

Jewelry (Developed): Worth your weight in gold takes a new meaning. This isn’t in reference to being spoiled, mind you. This is about status and the meaning behind the jewels Kalim is imparting. The cultural significance. Considering that you’re not from twisted wonderland, you technically are a blank slate to all countries. Who better to learn from than someone who’s spent his childhood studying to become an expert in international trade? Kalim has enough tact to bite his tongue about the deep meaning behind the gifts. You may not understand just yet, but his excitement can’t be contained. Each bangle and piece from the family treasury has a small story. While he has no problem using his wealth to help people who need it, there’s a joy that comes from decorating his treasure’ in treasure. Y’know?

"Do you like it? This necklace was my mother's at our age. My father gifted it to her during a business trip to the Queendom of Roses. Ah - you can have it! Really! She has many others, and when I told her about you this was what she chose to have sent over. It's already yours! You can wear it to the next banquet, please?" <- Being the next head of House Asim, Kalim can't be with just anyone. Yet he seemed so happy in his letters, and Jamil vouched on your behalf - so this is your time to shine. Also, sending the necklace back would be like slighting his family's good will. You quite literally need to accept it.

Music (Inherited): Can you play an instrument? Sing? It starts out as wanting to be near him more - so you join the pop music club. Kalim, Cater, and Lilia are very convincing. So they push you to pick up something. Anything. It doesn't matter what, so long as you have fun with them. Even in the earliest stages where the notes come grated and your friends (Grim) make fun - Kalim is supportive without fault. His encouragement leads to proficiency and an appreciation for music. He'd love if you sing with him. Even if it's just a lullaby - no, especially so.

Habits He Steals:

Naming inanimate objects (Inherited): Your effort at making Kalim more money-conscious. The decite of sentimental attachment, if you will. It’s honestly a risky move to make considering the sheer amount of things that he owns, so naming everything is off the table. Yet it’s the silly things. Like seeing a face in the paintwork on one of his tapestries, and then deciding to dub it Artie. Oh no, Kalim we don’t need to get new artwork for the bathroom! What about Artie? It’s already pretty enough so lets just leave him there. No - no, that ring’s super pretty but the matching set from our anniversary is enough. We wouldn’t want Garnet and Pearl to think we were replacing them, right?

"I think Vinnie would work best on display, don't you? Purple and yellow are sure to catch people's attention from far away! Or maybe should we hang up Paolo? There are so many tapestries in Scarabia’s vault, I feel guilty only putting one up on display at our festival stall. Do you think they’d let us hang more?”<- It works. Kalim defiantly thinks twice. He's a bit like a kid refusing to give up their action figures after watching Toy Story, ya feel me?

Cooking (Inherited): Kalim is learning how to cook for himself as one step to being more self-sufficient. He only eats food that Jamil prepares, but with Viper’s seal of approval you’ve earned a pass. Essentially anything you both make with pre-approved ingredients is fair game. You pick a recipe every week, give Jamil the grocery list, and he makes sure to have the stuff in the dorm. Jamil is only okay with this so long as you supervise. Teaching Kalim is on your shoulders - and in all honesty? It’s an amazing bonding experience. Jamil can rest easy for a few hours and Kalim isn’t being thrown straight into the deep end. Obviously it’s only a small reprieve, and temporary since back at the Scalding Sands there are regulations in place. Kalim loves wearing matching aprons, humming little tunes while reading recipe books, watching cooking videos, learning about all the nutritional benefits in food, and really gets an appreciation after seeing how much work goes into his favorite dishes. There’s also that spark of joy when you sit down to eat, and it’s somehow one-hundred times better than eating with his family back home. Not that Kailm doesn’t love his siblings, but family really takes a new meaning when you see it coming together right before your eyes.

"Mph th-ish is sho gud! - how do you like it? Should we invite our friends to try some? It tastes almost like Jamil's! I bet if we keep at it, then we can cook up a banquet all on our own. That'll surely put everyone in a good mood!"

Skinship (Developed): Kalim is the type to initiate touch. Not receive it. If you look at his interactions with the others, he’s always the one throwing himself at them or being a vibrant glow-stick. Very few people give that back - and in truth? Like, honest to Seven truth? Kalim’s got no problem with it. Many people have bad intentions. Not everyone wants to be his friend, and that’s fine. They come to him looking to get in his good graces. It’s unnecessary…he’ll happily help without them twisting his feelings. All they need to do is ask. Do you know how easy it is for someone to prick him with a drugged needle? He’s not comfortable with physical contact that he does not initiate, unless it’s from someone he trusts. Like Jamil, Silver, Cater, his siblings, etc. Even they have a limit (which he’s confident will never be crossed, since again, Kalim is almost always the initiator). This list is subject to change…what, you think a family of 30+ kids can exist without animosity? He dreads the day he has to think of one of his little siblings becoming untrustworthy.

Anyways. Trust is a choice for Kalim. His happiness and extroverted optimism is all a choice. Sometimes on an unconscious level (*cough* his awareness of the divide between himself and Jamil, yet pushing the knowledge down until it inevitably hurt them both *cough*). So imagine reaching the point where he trusts you. It could be something small, like the first time you hug him from behind or lace your fingers together. Intimate. Not like Cater’s half sling over the shoulder, not like his little siblings hanging on his legs, or Jamil pushing him ahead while they walk. When he’s not initiating, and Kalim might hesitate for a moment. Hard to picture, I know, but by letting it be he’s choosing to trust you wholeheartedly. All in the span of like 5 seconds, and he might not even realize it until later on. Those of us who shine the brightest, usually have walls that are hard to see. Just some food for thought.

"Really? Really, really?? Really, really really??? Really - Ah! Sorry, I just can't believe it! There's so much I still don't know about them...but they're paying attention to me, huh? That's it! I need to work harder to be a worthy boyfriend! Starting right now, I'll become a better man!" <- Kalim. Sweetie. No. You're already the brightest boy. Your dormmates only brought the prefect's changes up to make you happy! I mean - mission successful? The goal was to motivate him and they technically succeeded. Just not for studying. He's 100% fired up with enough energy to run laps around the dorm now. He doesn't know what to do first, should he get Cater to help make you a playlist? Or have some flowers sent over? Would you prefer red roses or a mix of violets with chrysanthemums. Wait. Grim's 'technically' a cat, right? He should make sure not to send anything harmful to kitties. Maybe some tuna for him with chocolates for you? But this gift should be something you can keep. Ohhhh he is vibrating from excitement. He needs to show how much he loves you. Your attention and care truly means the world to him.

Habits You Steal:

Bug Spray (Developed): Jamil can and will throw you under the bus when faced with insects. Big hit to his pride, not his best moments, but he is NOT dealing with the absolute infestation at Ramshackle. You are spraying that place with heavy duty RAID if you want him over longer than ten seconds. If he so much as catches a GLIMPSE of a roach - nah. Just nah. He will shove that dustpan in your hands and send you to war. Don’t call him until it’s dead, the carcass has been disposed of, and you’ve wiped down. Grim’s a cat. Teach his ass to hunt. He needs to pay rent. You think he’s letting the flame-ball follow to the Scalding Sands after NRC? Jamil wants him on hinting duty for scarabs or else it’s time to prep hobo box.

“Burn it….Did you not hear me? I said. Burn. It. Better yet? Burn this whole damn building!” <-First night he decides to let Kalim handle Scarabia and humor you with a sleepover - and a giant spider decided to invade the shower. We’re talking big spider, maybe pregnant. Please keep in mind that during the VDC prep, Vil had Ramshackle deep cleaned. So the worst Jamil saw was a few ants. Now, the science club does meet in the Ramshackle garden often since you’ve cleaned it up, and Trey may grow plants that make the place insect central. Jamil was unaware of this. The gut wrenching scream that echoed through every room in the house. You’d think one of the ghosts pulled a cruel prank - but no. You didn’t even get a moment to investigate. The bathroom door flew open, Jamil running out still wet and drenching his pajamas. The death glare and spew of curses was the most genuine you’d ever seen him. Well, it could have been appreciated if not directed at you. Fix it or he will never set foot in this place ever again.

Spice Tolerance (Inherited): Not much to say here. He likes his food spicy. Sure, Jamil isn’t great with his words so his main love-language is bringing over tubbaware filled with food, and he does cater to your preferences more often than not. Except you undoubtedly will be eating what himself and Kalim eat most days. Which is packed with flavor. Grim isn’t complaining, food’s food. You? It’s funny to take a chomp out of ghost pepper like it’s a roma tomato, only for Ace to try and then start wheezing. Work them tastebuds, ya scrawny magic man. Heh.

"Can't handle the heat? Curry's a versatile dish. I could make something mild next time...you still want it? Why? Just because it's my favorite, doesn't mean you have to like it. Still not going to give it back? Alright. Lets see you clean that plate then." <- Flattered that you want to experience his favorite foods prepared to his tastes. For the record - Jamil likes it spicy spicy. Hotter than fiery vindaloo. Its an acquired taste and he really can alter the recipe if its too much. Won't unless you ask, because it's funny and oddly romantic seeing you sweat just trying to make him happy (Will hit the breaks in if you are getting sick from it. Does not play around).

Braids (Inherited): Paired with Jamil’s developed trait. Braids or hair beads - take your pick. Maybe both? Or a headscarf. His little sister - Najima, do you remember her? She’s the first Viper you get to spend time with during a trip to the Scalding Sands and gifts you either some hair beads or a headscarf as her unspoken blessing. Nothing fancy, and Jamil forced the coin in her hand for it, but she did take you through the markets while he was busy tending to other needs. It’s honestly really sweet, and Jamil will braid the beads or scarf in one of your side pieces of hair every morning (or wrap the scarf around your head. Not fancy like Kalim’s but still a knot he ‘insists’ will look better if he does it since you’re inexperienced. He could teach you. He won’t.)

Silence (Inherited): Shit just does not phase you anymore. Ever heard of the inability to keep calm until there's someone more panicked nearby? Jamil embodies this, being surrounded by emotive people all the time, and his perpetual state of indifference physically does not allow you to feel unsettled. If Jamil isn't bothered, then neither are you. It's that simple. Resting bitch face is contagious. Jamil's ability to handle Kalim comes in handy for raising Grim. You can now ignore his baby face and daily begging for premium tuna. Little kitty needs to expand his arsenal of tricks, because your will is stone.

"Bad day? Grab a cup. The dorm's usually quiet for the next hour. I'll be there in a moment." <- Queen never cry. If anything actually does phase either one of you, it normally ends the same way. Plopped on the floor of his bedroom, sipping hot tea and staring at the wall in comfortable silence while stewing in mutual suffering. Eventually you give him one of those starry sky projectors, and y'all ill stare at that instead. If it's a problem that has a tangible solution then it gets solved. Easy. This is for the 'yeah, life sucks' moments where all you can do is let it be before getting back up again. At least you have each other.

Habits He Steals:

Braids (Developed): Jamil can easily do his own hair. A flick of the wrist and it magically braids itself. Ebony locks carry memories of pain, growth - and change. Small change. Yet change nonetheless, which seemed impossible years ago. There’s something very intimate that comes with fixing another person’s hair. You’re not proficient enough to handle his cornrows (or are you? To his standard? As fast as magic?) but Jamil’s fine with changing his hair style to a simple triple braid, or a braid-band using the framing pieces that can crown around his head. So long as you do it for him every morning.

Fix-It-Felix (Developed): You know that one type of dad? The one who visits your home and looks for imperfections. He comes over, puts fresh produce in the fridge, mends the nail holes in the wall and fixes that one loose board on the steps that you made a habit to avoid. Barely says two words during his visit but seemingly solves half the problems you were procrastinating? This is Jamil. 100% Jamil when he comes to Ramshackle. He needs to make himself useful. And to scold someone. Grim more often than not, but you’re not safe. He really goes ‘bitch you live like this?’ at least once a week. Then proceeds to take preventative measures like a textbook tsundere.

“I put tangerines in the fridge since winter is coming. You need to be getting enough vitamin c and - where’s Grim? Don’t let him eat them all and make sure he knows not to light the fireplace tonight. There’s some cleaner on the bricks that needs to sit for a few hours…you know what? I’ll go with you to get him. Grab your heavy coat, it looks ready to rain.”

Dancing (Developed): Jamil participates in solo-dance during his downtime. It’s not like he had a partner to do duos with. Jamil also was not interesting in cozying up to a stranger just to learn a dance he would rarely have a moment to indulge in. Kalim’s the one who mentioned this in passing to you. His intentions were pure, of course. Just as they always are. He signed you both up for a ballroom dance class as a present for officially becoming a couple! Jamil finally had a partner and time to try, so why wait?! The vice in question wanted to deny since (1) who has time for that, (2) it was off campus, would take three hours out of every weekend for a month and (3) The chance of embarrassing himself was higher than he would like. Yet Kalim is smarter than most think, and purposefully handed the gift to you. Not Jamil. Along with the excited embellishment that Jamil could now do this ‘long desired’ class that really wasn’t high on his radar.

"If it makes you happy...then I don't mind. Just try to avoid stepping on my toes. Otherwise I'll demand compensation. What do I want? Wouldn't you like to know, prefect." <- Five seconds in and he yields. You weren't going to let him out of it - no matter what excuse Jamil came up with. He'll put up with it and get back at Kalim later. The chance to spend time with you for that long is rare, and Jamil isn't the type to squander opportunities. No matter his personal feelings on the 'gift' in question.

Except Jamil finds the entire experience pleasant and hates that it’s all thanks to Kalim. Dancing with you is entirely different than dancing alone. It’s clumsy, new, and honestly tiring since he needs to lead. Especially in anything fast pace like a quickstep or to swing. It’s also three hours out of the week that Jamil isn’t maintaining his composure. Just you, him, and the instructor since Kalim splurged on private lessons. It’s liberating and Jamil wants to keep with it far beyond after the class ends. Even if it’s just slow-dancing in the common room to one of those vintage records stowed at Ramshackle. Seven, let him have this.

‘We’ instead of ‘Me’ (Inherited AND Developed): Automatically assumes that any invites are for you too. Jamil is used to thinking this way. Except the ‘we’ applied to Kalim, with Jamil as a plus one. Jamil did not want to be part of that ‘we’. Hence why he would only refer to Kalim when laying plans out. ‘Kalim has dance lessons at six, then dinner at seven, then study until 10 and then bed. Tomorrow, Kalim’s going to a banquet head by the treasure’s family and then returning to campus.’ The unspoken truth being that Jamil’s schedule matched. He followed, but was never on board with being Kalim’s ‘we’. He has always been a ‘me’ and made an active effort to preserve all his ‘me’ moments. For someone so self-aware…Jamil isn’t sure when he began to view you as his ‘we’. Only that when you auto-included him in everything…it was less strenuous than with Kalim. Far less. Easy to adapt. In the past, Jamil believed a partnership to be another chain. Perhaps being a ‘we’ was never supposed to hurt.

“Thanks for the invitation, but we’re staying in tonight…. No, not Kalim. The Prefect. What? I’m not speaking for them. If my word’s not good enough, just go ask the prefect yourself.” <- Other people might look at him and think he’s treating you like Kalim. Oh, how wrong they are.

Texting (Inherited): Jamil’s not used to someone keeping tabs on him. You’re going to see him within the hour, why does he need to call before going to wake up Kalim? Why do you need a text that he’s back in his dorm before you’re able to sleep? Why do you show up in Scarabia at one in the morning, throwing rocks at his window, if he forgets? (Jamil never forgets. He just had to reign in some rowdy first years and couldn’t catch a break. It was on his mind. Really.) It’s not the worst demand. A five minute call while he’s prepping breakfast and a few messages to know he’s going to rest are a small price to pay. Turns out a little rundown of his day before bed makes sleeping a ‘little’ bit easier. Huh.

“I don’t see it.” <- A lie spoken with the most monotone tone possible. Jamil rolls his eyes over the rim of his mug, taking a sip before turning the page in his book. Najima scoffs before returning to her magazine. She can say he’s softened up all she wants. He won’t admit to it. Doesn’t mean she’s wrong in the slightest. Jamil’s well aware that hopes and wants denied to him from birth have begun to stir within him. No matter how small the changes may be, Jamil isn’t foolish enough to give those emotions his attention. Not if he wants to keep them. Good things always escape his grasp…his wounds are too fresh to get comfortable just yet.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #jamil viper #twst kalim al' asim #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #twst habits series #not me forgetting to put tags here. post has been up a whole day with no tags. i am a certified dummy

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straycalamities · 2 months ago

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this is an AU design but i am pretty happy with it so i'll go ahead and post it

so the AU is inspired by the lore of dead by daylight? basically the ark sucked a bunch of people in through the years and no matter where and divided them up into: the ones going through agony & the ones inflicting the agony

survivors and hunters <- distinct from "killers" ok

anyways the ark feeds off people's despair and agony and stuff so it enlists the help of its hunters to help it inflict those on people within its domains (which are kinda like shifting areas in space devoid of a specific place in time) and all the hunters kinda have one they haunt the most, but hunters can wander

the domains themselves usually have a theme of their location like: the woods, the desert, abandoned locations like malls and old factories, etc. and they're kinda alive on their own? infected by the ark and its influence

so basically brian was chosen as a hunter. and he hates this. but the ark rewards hunters for doing their jobs with energy (they dont need to eat or drink otherwise), stamina, strength, resistance to wounds and sickness, and a like dopamine high for inflicting pain. literally encourages them to be terrible. and hey if the hunters don't do their job? then the ark picks off the survivors eventually itself. in the worst, slowest, most painful ways

so brian's workaround this, because he realizes people are gonna die no matter what, is to become as lethal as possible. make it as quick and painless as he can when he can't just...butt in and sabotage the other hunters or the ark. (because there is a sort of puzzle/goal to the survivors being moved around that they must accomplish to "win" aka get out for then and just be placed in down-time until their next game. and if they lose they just respawn to do it again until they lose/win. lol like i said: very dbd inspired)

but yeah! so i changed brian's design to fit his MO in this. so his preferred turf is wooded areas so he's wearing hunter's camo and dark clothes to blend in with the trees and brush. he also has multiple very sharp very long knives so he can reach those lethal areas better and deliver a quick blow to get the job done. preferably with little to no fight because he got the jump on his victim. he also layers very potent poison on his blades in case he misses or something and can't finish the job easily. they're going regardless.

but since brian does things like this. the ark HATES him, and theres like...a ton of lore more because me and some friends are RPing in it (i also am writing Evan and HABIT in it), but ive already said so much so have this

#marble hornets #brian thomas #hoody mh #my art

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disregardcanon · 4 months ago

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finally got to see sweeney todd live (seen the movie and a few boots) and i have some Thoughts about utilizing sexism in your setting without the writing itself being sexist. because sweeney todd is SO good at it.

if you haven't seen sweeney todd, uh, both spoilers and trigger warnings for sexual assault, murder, cannibalism etc?

in sweeney todd we have three critical female characters

the entirety of sweeney todd happens because a man with wealth and power decides that he wants to rape benjamin barker's wife. he makes up a sham crime to get benjamin out of the picture and ships the man off to australia. this leaves young lucy as a single mother in victorian london.

he horrificly and publicly rapes her in a setting where other people jeer and laugh during the act. eventually she tries to poison herself, and the combination of poverty and cruelty is left to fend for herself on the streets, slowly losing her grip on reality due to the past trauma, ongoing trauma, and presumably brain damage from the poisoning.

when her husband, now calling himself sweeney todd, returns to their street, she is quite literally still there. he's cruel to her even before he "learns" from mrs. lovett that lucy died. the absolute revulsion he experienced towards her due to her being a homeless woman blinded him to even the possibility that this person who is in the right location could be his wife, even before she's "confirmed" as dead. she's just his beautiful, lost ideal. (but she isn't. she's there she's suffering she's insightful and caring and she's THERE-)

sweeney and lucy's daughter, joanna, has been stolen and locked away by the very judge that sent him to australia and raped her mother. she's spent all sixteen of her years confined to a single room, and the moment she catches the attentions of our young hero, the man she calls FATHER decides that he must marry her.

forcefully.

when she presents resistance and tries to run off with her young man, her captor forces her into an asylum where she will wait until she decides to become his wife the way that he is "owed".

sweeney never once acts to save her, despite both mrs. lovett and our hero's prompting. she, again, is the lost ideal. she would remind him too much of his lost love! oh no, however could he stand it! she is just something to mourn, even though she is here. breathing. singing frantically longing for freedom making connections with others and clever choices-

and then we have mrs. lovett, his wonderful, conniving soulmate. she's hilarious! she's far more clever than anyone gives her credit for, because she's just a silly woman after all! she snorts! she tells bad jokes! she's kind to children!

the dynamic between her and tobias only works so well because she's a woman. even if mr. todd was kind to him in a very similar manner, little boys don't show their affection for grown men with I Must Protect This Person. that is a way that little boys are taught to show their affection for the older women in their lives. because their grans and mums and aunts and older sisters, why, they're just so delicate! so kind! grandpas and dads and uncles and older brothers might need help and deference, but their favorite women need protection.

they can't be aware of the terrible things that are happening, or god forbid, a PARTICIPANT! that's just my auntie nelly! she's not capable of such a thing. she says things like "poor thing" and tells silly, bad jokes, and flutters around after the man she has an unrequited crush on.

surely she can't be in on this dastardly plot! she can't be its true author! the one that takes an angry, short-sighted man and gives him a purpose. that would be absurd!

sweeney never suspects her until seconds before he kills her. toby never suspects her at all. she's just a silly little cook with a crush that needs protection after all.

#sweeney todd #sweeney todd meta #nelly lovett #lucy barker #joanna barker #benjamin barker #musicals

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champion-of-love · 27 days ago

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i do think there's love between daring and apple but it's definitely not the romantic kind of love.

it's when you see this girl you've known your entire life and see her curl into herself when people talk about her hair being the wrong color right in front of her face and you 'accidentally' angle your smile in their faces to blind them.

it's when you see this boy you've known since you were in diapers and he's surrounded by his fans and they're all touching him and holding him and he's clearly uncomfortable but he doesn't move an inch from where he is because he's been raised to be charming above all else so you swoop in and take him by the elbow and tell all the girls that he's yours, sorry. and you see him breathe a sigh of relief as you two walk away.

it's when you see your oldest friend frown and pick her food at lunch without ever eating any of it and you know exactly why since you read that her royal ranking dropped this week (you know that she checks it every day the same as you but the difference is that her mom calls her just to scold her for it) so you bring her an apple pie from her favorite cafe since you know it's a treat she can't ever resist.

it's when your about to fall asleep because of a poison apple you ate and you don't know when you're going to wake up and you don't know if your friends will even be there for you when you wake up (you haven't been such a good friend lately that you wouldn't even blame them if they left you) but at least your comforted by the fact that your oldest friend will still be there ready to wake you up. (briar, ashlynn, and raven all left you at one point. he's the only one who hasn't). he's the only friend you've never fought with and he understands your outbursts and breakdowns since he knows all the pressure you're under since he's bearing the same amount of weight and expectations.

it might not have been romantic. but there was love.

#ever after high #eah #apple white #daring charming

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lemonpeppermintstickshift · 28 days ago

Note

if ur doing request… anything frank lol

maybe like nurse!reader x frank or something like that.. unless ur tired of writing for him ofc! <3

favorites - f. langdon x fem!reader

summary: frank knows he's not supposed to have favorites in the workplace, but there's just something about you that he can't seem to resist, for better or for worse.

warnings: SMUT (minors dni, 18+ only), (slight?) infidelity, frank is a munch, fingering, p in v, protected sex, no use of y/n, frank has no kids!! mentions of divorce, regular pitt gore, idiots in love

author's note: I'M FINALLY DONE GET THIS OUT OF MY DRAFTS!! thank you for the request anon!! i hope i did it justice. something actually took over me while writing this... i don't condone infidelity but.......

wc: 9.1k

Frank knew he wasn't supposed to have favorites.

Really, favorites—or any sort of personal bias—is unprofessional. It’s especially unprofessional in his line of work, where you’re expected to be able to operate with anyone regardless of your own personal feelings or partiality. And, for a while, Frank understood and abided by this rule. Sure, it was hard sometimes to work alongside Santos after he finished his leave from rehab, but even their strained relationship had morphed into something more respectable these days. Frank liked to believe he treated everyone the same. In Frank's eyes, he has no favorites.

Well, except you.

You’re a different story. Something a little more... complicated. You’re a difficult thing to describe, Frank thinks, and an even more difficult thing to behold. You’re impossibly smart, witty, quick on your feet, hard when you need to be and sweet when you can. All of these things draw Frank to you, and he has a hard time understanding why.

When Frank came back to the Pitt after his leave of absence, terrified out of his mind about jumping back into the environment where he once fell down a hole too deep, he was convinced maybe his return was a bad idea. Maybe, after all this time, the voices were right. He shouldn’t be allowed to be a doctor.

These whispers swirled in his head like poisonous ivy on brick walls, growing their way to the core of his brain where they planted and nursed the most horrid of self loathing thoughts. Frank was halfway through his first shift back, contemplating the validity of what the voices had been saying to him, when he saw you for the first time.

You were tucked away into a corner, medicine bottle in hand as you bit your bottom lip, listening intently as Mateo rattled off some unimportant patient details. You nodded every once in a while to prove you were paying attention, your dedication shown through your body language and intense facial expression.

It didn't take long for Frank to realize you were a nurse, and a new one at that. You still had that anxious air surrounding you—one that Frank knew all too well.

He attempted to listen to what Collins was saying to him—really, he was trying. But his eyes kept drifting to the side of your face, the curve of your hips, the small smile that escaped you when he overheard Mateo trying to soothe your nerves. He couldn’t look away.

From then on, it was difficult for him not to treat you differently.

If there was any opportunity to have a nurse on a case, whether that be administering medication, patient assessments, or monitoring vitals, your name was the first thing out of Frank's mouth. Yes, he knows there are many talented nurses in the Pitt, but none of them were quite like you. None of them worked so well with him, none of them understood and returned his playful banter the way you did, none of them could take one look at his facial expression and determine exactly what was necessary for him to succeed in the way you always did.

It was almost magical the way he felt around you. In between stolen snacks from the staff lounge, shifts that ran overtime, and shared caffeine addictions, Frank grew fond of you, against his best wishes.

But it was so hard for him to fight it. He attempted, he really did. For a while he didn’t return your morning smiles, he feigned annoyance at your weekend updates with Mohan, but it was all futile. You were intoxicating—funny, gorgeous, sarcastic, and most unfortunately for him, engaged.

That was the second thing Frank had noticed about you his first day back: the sparkling rock on your left hand. He had to admit, it was a sizable ring, which made it all the worse. It was salt in the wound. Frank, a man who had just gotten over his marriage, enthralled with you, a woman about to enter into hers. The irony was not lost on him.

He watched in the following months as you let loose a few small details about your fiancé. Things like how you met (at a coffee shop, boring if you asked Frank), what he looked like (blonde, Frank never trusted grown men with blonde hair), and his name (Chad. Don’t get Frank started).

With every mention of your wedding, with every compliment of your ring, it felt like someone was dragging nails across a chalkboard directly in Frank’s ear. Chad’s presence irked him in a way he wasn’t able to understand, or rather, in a way he didn’t want to accept.

One sided affection was growing increasingly difficult for him. He felt crazy, desperate, running his fingers through his hair at night and asking himself, why didn’t he meet you sooner? But Frank knew, deep down, there was nothing he could do to change the fate of your relationship. You were happily engaged to a man you loved, who loved you. It didn’t matter that he noticed the way your lips tugged into a smile the first time Frank caught your eye during the day, or the packet of goldfish you’d slide his way halfway through his shift, or even the quiet moments you two have had in the stairwell together after a particularly difficult case. There was no hope for him.

So, Frank took what he could get. Sure, it was blatant favoritism, but Frank couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Okay! I think you're all done.” You smile, patting your palms on the tops of your scrub clad thighs. The elderly woman in front of you, staring at her freshly dressed numb burn wound, beams back at you with a grateful expression as her frail hands clasp together in appreciation. Her young daughter that sits right by her side looks at you before saying, “Thank you, miss. For being so kind.”

“Absolutely, my pleasure.” You respond, beginning to clean up the materials around you. “And, Ma’am, do you remember your steps for after you're discharged?”

“Yes, I think I’ve got it.” The mother begins to reply. “No harsh chemicals, only soap and water before the antibacterial cream, and then change the bandage daily.”

“Yup, you got it. If there are any complications, if the pain suddenly becomes unbearable or if there's any swelling or pus, come right back here and we’ll get you sorted.” You explain.

The kind woman thanks you again as her daughter helps her up and out of the room, making sure to give you one last smile on her way out. You give a small wave back just as a familiar face approaches you.

“Feel like helping me today?” Langdon asks as you turn to look at him. His brown hair falls in front of his face as he angles his eyes down to meet yours. Something swirls in his irises, something familiar and warm, and you find yourself feeling clammy at the sight.

You roll your eyes in fake annoyance, clearing your throat. “It’s only 11 and you're already asking for my help?”

“Pretty please?” He says, his voice turning syrupy and low. His bottom lip juts out into a pout. You find your eyes trailing over his oh so soft looking mouth. “Robby and I have a patient in Trauma 1 that I need you for, like asap.”

You laugh and shake your head as you give him a silent nod. You’ve never been able to say no to Frank, and he knows it. He grins in response, flashing you his million dollar smile before turning around, motioning you to follow him.

You try not to let his words swirl around in your head as you trail behind him, but somehow they find their way to the forefront of your mind.

I need you.

For the next thirty minutes, you and Frank are glued to each other's side as you work in Trauma 1. Where Frank goes, you follow. You’re there for it all—the first time the patient codes, the blood transfusion you assist on, the frantic calls from Frank as Robby rushes into the room, it all swirls around you and him like a complex symphony.

Frank watches you in admiration, though you’re so engrossed with the task at hand that you fail to see it. His eyes follow as you skirt around the room, listening to every order Robby gives you, nodding and jumping into action. This is one of the things he admires the most about you—your dedication. The silent way you accept direction without hesitation.

The thirty minutes pass like seconds. Before you know it, the patient is stable, and you watch as Frank and Robby chat quietly. You don’t feel like interrupting their seemingly private conversation, so you take your leave and head to the staff lounge, rubbing the soreness out of your shoulders as you walk down the halls.

In the privacy of the staff lounge, you take a quiet minute to yourself. You crack open another redbull and give a sigh of relief at the taste. You need the boost this morning—you felt restless last night, tossing and turning in the comfort of your bed. A million things were running through your mind as you attempted to sleep. You tell yourself to get a grip, to shake it off. There are more important things to worry about, better things to do with your time than lament on things you shouldn't be thinking of.

When you think you’re beginning to take too much time, you force yourself back on to the floor. You walk fast towards the direction you last saw Dana, hoping to chat with your charge nurse for a few minutes before tagging along with Perlah and Princess. You’re so engrossed in your own mind—still replaying the same thoughts that kept you up last night—that you don’t see the shine of the floor below you, somehow missing the bright yellow bucket full of soapy water.

You don’t see the puddle of liquid in front of you until you’re slipping in it, falling backwards and smacking your head on the linoleum tile with a gasp. Pain blossoms at the base of your skull as your body lays on the ground. Your eyes flutter softly, vision turning blurry before, eventually, it fades to black.

Your ears are ringing.

Someone is faintly yelling words you can't quite pick up somewhere in the background. You feel a pair of hands behind your neck as someone is propping your head up, and just when you think you may have escaped this incident unharmed, just as your eyes begin to squint open and you make out the face of Dana and Robby, the back of your head throbs.

“Oh, motherfucking christ—” You sputter, attempting to sit up. “Jesus that hurts.”

“Hey hey. Take it easy, kid.” Robby orders, grabbing one of your arms to help steady you.

Dana crouches down beside him, immediately handing you an ice pack that feels freezing against your palm. You accept it gratefully as your eyes continue to adjust to the harsh fluorescent lighting of the ED.

“Quite a fall you took there,” Dana starts. “Here, let me check to see if your head's bleedin’.”

You groan as her hand ghosts against the back of your skull, hissing when the tips of her fingers barely come into contact with your pulsing skin. When she removes her fingers to examine them, they’re dry, which is a relief—at least you won’t need stitches.

“Do you know where you are?” You hear Robby ask.

“I’m in hell,” you reply. You watch as a little of the concern melts from his face, a small smile replacing the serious expression he had been sporting since he watched you slip.

“We should examine you for a concussion,” he continues, beginning to stand back up. Your ass is still firmly planted on the floor, one hand propping yourself up as the other ghosts the ice pack against your temple. Your entire head feels like it's on fire, like someone just took a wooden mallet and went crazy against the inside of your mind.

You're just about to take Robby’s helping hand up when the sound of rushing footsteps catches your attention.

“What the fuck?” You hear Langdon say, and you don’t have to turn to know the way he’s looking at you. Your head starts to pound even further. “What the hell happened?”

“I acquainted myself with the floor,” you mumble, finally taking the aid to get yourself back on two legs. You feel like a baby deer finding its footing for the first time, wobbling slightly back and forth as you try and steady yourself.

“Are you okay?” Langdon asks, his arms finding their way to yours, attempting to help stabilize you.

“I’m fine, totally good. Just embarrassed.” You laugh, immediately regretting it as you wince from the pain.

“How hard did you hit your head?” He asks, eyes scanning over your face. He turns to Robby before asking, “Has anyone assessed for a concussion?”

“No, not yet, I was just abo—”

“Someone help me!” A voice cries out.

Robby, Dana, and Frank tense immediately. Your reaction time is a little slower, and you’re still a little confused until you see Whitaker on the floor, attempting to stop the convulsions of an elderly man currently laying on the floor.

“Jesus, we got people dropping like flies!” Dana yells before running over to help the poor fourth year med student. Robby isn’t far behind her, grumbling to himself about how he can't catch a fucking break, how its always one thing or another.

“Langdon!” He booms from across the room. “Take over for me. Check her for anything, I gotta go.”

Frank gives him a wordless nod, taking no time before leading you towards an empty room not too far away. You feel like a grandma being walked across the street. Langdon’s hands are wrapped around your body, guiding you towards the seat of the bed before they remove themselves, shutting the door behind you both.

“It’s a fucking shit show out there,” he breathes as he swiftly brings up a stool, positioning himself in front of you. “We’ve got doctors cracking their skulls open, patients seizing on floors—it's not even lunch.”

“Yeah, well. I wasn’t planning on practically seeing god today.” You huff. “Holy shit my head hurts.”

“Yeah, let’s make sure you didn’t give yourself permanent brain damage.”

He wheels himself around the room in a comfortable manner, like he's done so many times before. His fingers wrap against the cool metal of a flashlight, and before you know it he's shining it in your face, making you flinch.

“Jesus! A little warning, please?” You hiss.

“Sorry, sorry.” He smiles sheepishly. “Just let me check out your pupilas and then I’ll turn it off.”

He scooches his stool closer to you, finding a respectable place that is semi in between your legs. There's still enough distance that it's professional, but it's just close enough that it makes you sweat.

“Can you tell me your name?” He finally says, clicking the flashlight off. You assume that means your pupils are fine, and he’s moving on to the cognitive aspect of his makeshift exam. You roll your eyes. You're almost positive you don’t have a concussion, just the makings of an incredibly nasty bruise and bump, yet you answer him anyway.

“And what day is it?”

“Wednesday.”

“The…?”

“The twelfth, jesus. Do you want the year too?”

“I wouldn’t say no.”

You playful wave your hand, dismissing him. The pain in your head has slowly receded, not as prominent as it originally was. It thrums slightly in the background, though, not completely over.

“Alright, can you look at my finger?” He starts again, breaking the small silence. He holds his index finger in front of your face. “I’m just gonna move this around, and I want you to follow it, okay?”

“Yes, Dr. Langdon,” you attempt to tease, but your voice comes out lower than expected. You watch as Frank swallows hard.

“Tell me what you did this morning.” He stares intensely into your eyes as he asks the question, still moving his finger around the peripheral of your vision. You follow your order, eyes never leaving his hand as you think of your answer, hoping you don't seem as frazzled as you feel. Did he get closer or are you imagining things?

“Woke up. Ate breakfast. Came to work. Helped on a couple different cases before the one with you and Robby. Went to the staff lounge to down a redbull and before I knew it I was slipping on the wet floor.”

“Good, okay.” He breathes. He stops moving his finger around which allows you to look at him once more. His stethoscope hangs loosely around his black scrub top, the white of his undershirt peeking through his collar as his chest slowly rises and falls. He looks handsome today. Yet again, he always looks handsome, and you find yourself biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from telling him that very same thing.

“You were great this morning. With Robby and I, I mean. You handled it like a champ.”

“Thanks,” you whisper. You never know what to do when Frank compliments you. “It’s all you guys. You’re easy to work with.”

“Yeah, but you were collected. Purposeful. Calm. Even when Mateo almost threw up.” He chuckles.

“I try.” You say, and it’s true. You always try. You always give it your best, but it's just easier with Frank. You’re not sure why.

“I’m gonna take your temp now.” He decides, rolling away from you for a second to get a thermometer.

“That feels a little unnecessary,” you say. You don’t want to be a bother—Frank’s a busy man, a coveted one at that. You know he could be helping someone else right now, and you'd hate to think that you were stealing him away from people who needed him more.

“Nope, don’t even.” He replies. “I’m checking off every box.”

He brings the electric thermometer that reads your temporal artery to your forehead. He clicks the button and watches for a few seconds as the device seems to think for a moment, giving you a small smile when a normal and acceptable number flashes on the screen.

“Thank you, again. For checking me for the concussion.”

“No problem.” He responds. “Can’t have you getting worse. Don’t know what I’d do if I had to ask Jesse to do anything instead of you.”

You try not to think too much about what he says to you. You try to pretend you don't notice the way he favors you over other nurses. You try to pretend you don't care. You try to pretend it doesn't kill you.

When Frank finishes putting away the thermometer, you think he's done with his exam. Yet, he doesn't get up to leave. Instead, he leans back, stretching his arms in the air. His shirt riles up, a sliver of his skin between the tops of his pants peeking out. Your eyes scan down the hair on his abdomen.

You clear your throat. Looking at Frank like that is wrong, for many different reasons. When you get up to move, Frank puts out a hand to stop you, wordlessly communicating that he doesn't want to leave yet—that the exam isn't over.

“What are you checking right now?” You ask as Frank sits in front of you, seemingly doing nothing.

“Your responsiveness.” So, bullshit, basically.

“And how is it?”

“Well, for starters, you're responding.”

You give him a small chuckle. You feel appreciative of the calm moment between you two—you’re only halfway through the day, yet you feel like you’ve been going one hundred miles per hour all morning, never stopping to catch your breath. Especially with your newfound head wound. The rest and ice will do you good, you’re sure.

“How have you been?” Frank asks in hopes of breaking the silence. Your eyes flicker up to meet his, and you give the normal response. I’m good, smile. Work is crazy, cheek bite. Thank god I’m off this friday, chuckle.

Through your painfully normal response, Frank watches as your eyes betray you. Your body plays the part perfectly, posture open and inviting, smile bright and cheerful, but something distant swirls in the dark parts of your irises. Frank catches it all.

He frowns. He wants you to be open with him, but he doesn't push it.

“And your—” He coughs, choking on something oddly shaped like his pride. “Your fiancé?”

Your eyes widen. Right. You have one of those.

“He’s.. fine.”

“Good. That’s good. Have you been telling him about all the amazing shit you do here?”

“Um… No. Not recently. We’re actually…” You try to think of how to phrase it. “We’re having a little bit of a disagreement right now.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s stupid, nothing serious, obviously,” you lie. “I just feel bad. I feel like it’s been distracting me.”

Frank tries to act like he's not enthralled. Obviously, he's sad that you’re feeling inadequate with yourself and distracted at work, but Chad can go kick rocks.

“You’re not off your game. Not at all. You were amazing this morning.”

“Thanks.” You reply, still deflected. You toy with your slightly melted ice pack, squishing around the slushy-like gel between your fingers. Your eyes bounce around the room. You don’t want Frank to see the discouragement in them.

“I mean it. You’re a great nurse, and partly the reason why I’m a great doctor. I… I couldn’t do this without you, I hope you know that.” He whispers.

It hasn’t been the easiest thing for him, coming back. There have been so many demons he's had to face, so many challenges he's had to overcome. The cold glances he's had to brush off his shoulder and the shame of his actions all seem a little more bearable when you’re by his side.

He smiles when you look at him again. There's a slight awe in your eyes, like you can't believe what you've just heard, but it's true. Frank thinks the world of you.

“Can I ask what you're fighting about?” He says, lying to himself about his intentions. God forbid a nice doctor care about his a nice nurse. “We’re… friends, so I guess I can ask.”

You sigh. You don't want to let on too much, to make him worry about you or anything. “He’s staying with a friend right now. We’re just disagreeing on stuff about the future. Really, it’s nothing.”

He can see the way you’re downplaying your true feelings in real time as arguments replay in your mind. Harsh words being tossed around, all about how you’re too busy, you never see me anymore, we never have sex anymore.

You don’t tell Frank any of this, obviously. You would be mortified if he knew about the state of your relationship. (Or secretly enthralled, depending on how honest you want to be with yourself.)

“Well, he’d be an idiot to fuck this up with you.” He confesses.

You laugh. It’s heartfelt, Frank can tell. He’s proud of himself for pulling it out the depths of your lungs. After a second, your eyes fall back to the ice pack that's now fully jelly in your hands, feeling a similar melted sort of emotion. You start to speak, but feel like your words fail you.

“I don’t—” Want him. Love Him. “I just—” Want you instead. “It’s—” Easy. Kiss me. “—Complicated.”

“Well,” he starts again, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don't want to. And, anyways, I have to finish your exam.”

“There’s more?” You groan. This has been the longest concussion assessment of your life.

“Mobility. I’m just gonna check around your neck, see if anything hurts. That sort of stuff.”

You gulp. “Sure.”

Frank rolls his stool in front of you once more, a pair of plastic gloves now hiding his hands from the fluorescent lights of the room and the soft feeling of your skin. He inches slowly towards you, trying to find a compromise between the space he knows he should give you and the space he wants.

Quietly, he brings up his fingers to the side of your neck, lightly brushing against the area where your jaw meets your throat. You swallow thickly.

“I’m gonna press lightly on the sides of your throat, and then I’m gonna ask you to move your head around. Let me know if anything I do hurts you, okay?”

“Y-Yeah.”

You watch as his gaze leaves your face to focus on the task at hand. He’s gone from being Frank, to being Dr. Langdon. It’s sexy admirable.

You feel the light pressure of his two fingers as they make their way down your throat. You wait patiently for his instructions, trying not to gasp when his grip changes from two fingers to five, his hands practically engulfing your neck.

“Mkay,” he murmurs, cocking his head. “To the left… Good. Now the right.”

You feel yourself getting hot. Your heartbeat is spiking, you're sure of it. What a horrible time for Frank to have his hand on your carotid artery.

“You seem flushed? Are you alright? Is it hurting?”

“Jesus—No. It’s nothing. Sorry.” You cringe.

He halts his movements. You feel his hands soften around you, feeling lighter around your throat. Oh great, you think. He thinks he's hurting me.

When you finally get the courage to open your scrunched up eyes, you see that he’s back to Frank now. Frank, whose hands are around your throat, his latex clad fingertips barely brushing against the small hairs on the back of your neck. Frank, who’s the closest he’s ever been before. Frank, whose eyes are bouncing back and forth between your eyes and your lips.

It’s wrong. You know it is. It’s bad to want it. It’s bad to think about it.

It’s even worse to do it.

But it happens anyway.

You don't know who starts it. One minute you’re trying not to crawl out of your skin in embarrassment of the way your body betrays you, the next your heart turns to putty as you feel his lips brush against yours, soft and slow with hesitance.

You kiss him back. You don’t think you could pull away if you tried. He tastes like the peach-nectarine red bull he drank this morning. He smells handsome, if that's even possible. Like the ocean. Your hands itch to cradle his face, to make their way into his dark brown hair that always looks perfect, no matter how many times he runs his fingers through them.

It’s deep. It’s sweet. It’s everything you’ve wanted since the first day you saw him.

You play with your fingers to distract yourself reaching out to touch him, as if he’d turn to gold and crumble from your midas touch. Your fingertips run over something hard.

Your ring.

And suddenly it's over.

You pull back from him. You're breathless, you feel disheveled. Your lips feel swollen. Your head hurts worse than when you practically slammed it on the floor like a basketball.

“Are you—shit. I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“We shouldn’t. I can’t, I have—”

“Yeah, yeah, obviously. Shit.”

“Yeah. Um. I should… go.”

“Yes,” he breathes, “You’re all good. No… no concussion. Or brain damage.”

“Thank you,” you say, scrambling to stand up. “For… Yeah, okay.” You find your footing faster than you did in the halls. You’re not sure what you would do if Frank tried to help stabilize you, but you imagine it can't be anything good.

You leave the room without looking back.

For the rest of his shift Frank is torn into pieces.

He feels awful. You came to him, hurt—possibly concussed—and what did he do? Kiss you. Stupid idiot. You had trusted him. Confided in him about problems you were having in your personal life, problems you were having with the man who put that rock on your finger, and Frank just couldn’t help himself, he had to ruin it.

It was clear you were avoiding him. Painfully so.

You immediately walked away in the opposite direction if he spotted you, never giving him the chance to ask you for help with a patient. Every time you caught his eye, you were deep into conversation with whoever was around you, always managing to avoid his gaze he so desperately wanted you to see.

You’re nowhere to be found when he’s roaming the halls, right as Frank is in between cherry picking cases. You’re somewhere in a room down the hall when Frank sits down to log some information, pretending to look busy as he clicks the mouse around an empty screen. He feels like a kicked puppy.

The worst part is he knows he did it to himself. He knew at the beginning of your friendship that he wasn’t capable of knowing you without loving you, and he worked with you anyway. Now it's all ruined, he thinks. You’ll never speak to him again. You’ll probably never want to be in the same room as him, especially alone. It’ll be horrible to work with him, you’ll hate every minute of it.

He’ll be a gentleman about it though, transfer to night shift. Never speak to you again. Wishing you and your future toddler twins a good life as you cradle a new baby that looks just like fucking Chad. He can see it all play out in his head. He’ll die alone. The cat he doesn’t have will eat his face.

The hours pass by quickly as Frank loses himself in his head. He goes through the motions. He’s done it all before. It’s not good to work distracted, but there's no use in trying to clear his mind. He wants to talk to you desperately, but he doubts he’ll get the chance.

And he’s right. You take off like a shot when your shift ends, leaving a trail of dust behind you. No one seems to notice but him. Frank feels so twisted inside, like he’s fucked everything up beyond repair. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits in the driver's seat of his car. He let himself get too comfortable, be too hopeful that anything could change between you two.

He drives home in disappointed silence.

When Frank finally makes it back to his house, to his sparsely decorated apartment that's just a little too small and a little too dark, he collapses with exhaustion. His bag is tossed somewhere haphazardly, his lanyard with his medical ID thrown loosely on his kitchen counter. He slides off his scrub top and doesn't bother to look where it lands.

A hot shower should fix everything.

He stands under his showerhead moments later, his shitty water pressure doing an even shittier job at getting the shampoo out of his hair. He tries to distract himself with miniscule things in order to prevent thinking of you. This ends pathetically, however, when Frank realizes he doesn't have much of anything else to distract himself with.

He’s not married anymore. He barely has any friends. All he does is work, and if Frank thinks of work, then Frank thinks of you.

“This is pointless,” He mutters to no one.

When he finally deems himself clean, appreciative of the small relief that the shower has given him, Frank tosses on an old pair of sweatpants that ride low on the bony parts of his hips, sliding over a black steelers t-shirt to go with it. He reheats some leftovers from the night before, going through the motions of being too eager and burning his mouth over and over with every bite.

He’s impressed with himself about how his cooking skills have grown. Now that he lives alone, all of the decisions fall to him. It wasn't like he never cooked when he was married or anything of the sort—Frank always helped out. But now, he’s on his own. He wonders briefly if you’d like the meal he’s eating. If you’d like his cooking.

He stands in the kitchen for longer than he should. His plate is clean now. The dishes are washed and dried, put away in their respective cabinets. But Frank can’t bring himself to move. From here, he can see the entirety of his home as it lies before him. His small living room with a couch and a TV he got on sale. The door to his bedroom cracked slightly askew, allowing for the tiniest bit of light to bleed in from his bathroom.

His apartment is cold. Empty. It feels lonely and like salt in the wound. It’s times like this when Frank misses you the most. He closes his eyes and selfishly imagines you in his kitchen, smiling softly at him as he cooks for the two of you. The way you’d look on his couch, watching a movie so scary you’d have to turn to look away, burying your face in his chest.

He tries not to think about you in his bed. It never ends well for him, and he feels all the more shameful the next time he sees you.

When he’s done playing pretend in his mind, he makes his way to his couch alone. He turns on some shitty reality TV show to distract him, and make his space less quiet. He rots in the same position for what feels like hours.

Frank’s eyes just begin to flutter shut when he hears the faintest knock on his door.

At first he thinks he’s imagining it. It’s late, and Frank doesn't talk to his neighbors. It must’ve been from down the hall.

But then it happens again. He pauses the show and groans as he stands, stretching out his arms and legs before he rubs his eyes. He knows he didn’t order anything, so maybe someone’s just got the wrong house?

He contemplates a few different possible scenarios until he opens the door, and it’s clear the person in front of him is at the right place. You stand anxiously, toying with your fingers like you did that morning. You look at him like a deer in headlights, almost as if you weren't expecting him to answer. Neither of you say anything.

He breaks the uncomfortable silence. “How the hell did you get my address?”

You seem relieved when he speaks, like you were afraid he might shut the door in your face. “I have my ways.”

“That's… frightening.” He admits. “Do you… do you want to come in?”.

“Yeah.”

He maneuvers his body and opens the door widely for you, allowing you to step inside. You slowly creep into his living room, looking around and taking in his scarce decor, his degrees hung on the wall. He barely has any photos in frames.

His apartment radiates the same sort of Frank-esque smell that graced your senses earlier that morning, and you find yourself inhaling deeply, as if you were running out of breath. You hope he doesn’t notice.

When Frank shuts the door behind you, he leans against the kitchen counter in order to give you some space. He thinks maybe you’re here to yell at him, to tell him you’re transferring to Presby or even moving just to get away from him.

But he can’t help himself from worrying about you, which is why he ends up asking, “Are you okay?”

You don't answer him, which only puts him on edge more. He's always been used to easy conversations between you two. He hates this switch. He hates himself for it even more. The guilt that starts to bubble in his stomach again at the sight of you suddenly feels unbearable. He thinks he may just die if he doesn’t try to make amends in some way, he can't bear the thought of losing you because he couldn't control his desire.

“I’m so sorry,” he begins to say, “For this morning—”

“No, no. That wasn’t your fault at all. Don’t apologize.” You confess. “Actually, that’s why I’m here. That’s—That’s what I want to talk to you about. If you have a second.”

“O-Of course, yeah.”

“Um… so I left work really fast. As I’m sure you saw. Partly to avoid you and partly because kissing you made me realize some things that I had been ignoring. So I went home and got into a really big fight with Chad.”

Langdon gulps at your confession. He wants to reach out and touch you, but he decides against it.

“We fought about… well about everything. He said that I wasn't in love with him. And… he's right. I’m not. And also, apparently he was sleeping with the ‘friend’ he was staying with, so. Tried to tell me it was my fault because I wasn't giving him any attention.” you whisper.

You stop yourself to catch your breath. You feel overwhelmed talking about something so fresh. You feel almost embarrassed in a way to admit this—that you had been so in love with Frank that it ruined your already crumbling relationship.

“I ended things with him. Gave him his stupid ring back and told him to get the hell out of my house. I gave him the night to pack a bag but I couldn’t be there any longer, so I just left. I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.”

Frank stays quiet as you explain the situation you find yourself currently in. He watches as your eyes dart around the room once more—you're nervous. You're worried he’ll kick you out, make you go back to your home where you have to come to the realization that the man you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with is a cheater.

“I’m so sorry.” He says. He hears the way his own voice cracks. He hates seeing you emotional, and it’s getting to him. “He didn’t deserve you at all. And fuck him for trying to say it was your fault.”

He watches as you take a shaky breath. You look up at him. You’re dressed more casually than when he last saw you, a pair of low rise jeans and some old band t-shirt covering your body. You look nice for someone who's just had their world turned upside down.

“Believe it or not… I’m actually not that torn up about it. In his defense, I don’t think I've mentally been there for the past six months. I’ve been distracted.” You admit. Your stomach does a somersault when you watch as Frank clenches his jaw. You have to admit being cheated on feels shitty, but there's a certain feeling of freedom blooming in your chest as you stand in your favorite resident’s living room.

“By what?” He asks. His voice is low. His arms are crossed, and his fingernails dig into his arms. They leave tiny crescent shapes in his skin.

You gulp. “By you. Always by you.”

Frank freezes. The hair on the back of his neck stands up straight, sending a chill down his spine. He can’t believe the words that are leaving your mouth. He feels like he must be dreaming. It just isn't possible for you to be standing in front of him after all this time, newly single, saying you’ve wanted him just as much, if not more, as he’s wanted you.

Your confession hangs heavy in the air. Frank gets flashbacks to this morning. The feeling of your neck in his hands, the shape of your lips as they slotted so perfectly against his. He starts to understand that he was so worried after the kiss had happened, so convinced that he had screwed everything up, that he forgot to see the way you’d melted against him and moved your mouth against his.

“About this morning… Did you mean it? Did you mean to kiss me?” you whisper. “Because if not, I’ll go, and we never have to talk about it again.”

Frank pushes himself off of the counter and walks towards you. He gets closer than he did this morning, yet his hands make their way to that same spot on your neck, just below your jaw. You exhale shakily as you wait for his reply.

“All I do is think about you. Every goddamn day.” He breathes out. “I’m sorry about how that fucking asshole treated you, but I’m not—I’m not sorry you’re not with him. You deserve to be with someone better than that. Who wants you.”

Something crackles between you two. Now that you both know where the other stands, it’s hard to not act on it.

“And do you want me?” You ask lowly.

“Yes.” He replies, not missing a beat.

“Then kiss me. Please.”

Frank moves you closer with one small tug at your neck, bringing your face to his as his lips lightly brush against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, and you sigh into him as you let your hands wander. As your hands move up towards his hair, his move down your torso, resting lowly on your hips. He feels the rough material of your jeans underneath his palms. He hooks his fingers around your belt loops and pulls you closer, your body coming flush with his.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he says once he breaks away from you. The last thing Frank wants to do is rush you and scare you away, so he’ll let you dictate how far you go tonight. He’ll take anything he can get, even if it's just a kiss. As long as it's with you.

“Please, Frank. Haven’t stopped thinking about you for months,” you confess against his lips.

The admission makes him rock hard. You feel like play-doh in his hands, so soft, so willing. You look at him in a way that makes him flush. You’re so perfect, he thinks. And by some miracle, you want him just as much as he wants you.

So how could he refuse you?

He slides his hands down your ass to the back of your thighs, hoisting you up around his hips as he carries you to his bedroom. You feel his erection press through his sweats, and when he lays you down gently, you bite your lip at the sight of his outline through the sweatpants.

It doesn’t take long before his hands are tugging at the hem of your shirt, signaling to you that he wants it off. You work on sliding it over your head as Frank removes his own shirt, his chest heaving up and down as his eyes rake down your body. His lips find their way to your neck as they kiss on your pressure point, causing you to squirm. You run your fingers through his hair as a way to distract yourself from the pleasure. He kisses his way down your chest until he comes to the swell of your breasts, reaching behind you to unclasp the garment. He groans as you help slide it off your body. He takes one nipple in his mouth and you gasp at the feeling of his warm tongue swirling around your areola.

He gives both of your nipples a little bit of attention, suckling slightly, watching the way they gleam with his spit in the moonlight before he keeps moving down your body. When he reaches the top of your jeans, you give a little hip lift in desperation. He gets the hint. His fingers undo the button and zipper, grabbing both your pants and underwear before sliding them down your legs. He discards them somewhere in the darkness of his room before his eyes are back on you. Your thighs are pushed together in slight embarrassment of how wet you are. A flush creeps its way down your neck as Frank slides his hands up and down your hips, trying to coax you open for him.

“You don’t have to,” you breathe out.

“But I want to. Please let me, baby. Been thinking about it forever.”

You melt at his words. You’ve never been able to say no to him, not at work and not between the sheets of his own bed. His pleas cause your legs to spread open. He moves his head down to the same level as your soaking pussy, grinning when he sees how wet you are for him. He takes a moment to admire how you practically drip onto the sheets.

You cry out when his tongue finally licks a fat stripe up your cunt. Your fingers tug at his brown curls, his name leaving your lips in small whispers as he moves his mouth against you. It’s sloppy, and the sound he makes against your pussy is obscene. He wraps his hands around the outside of your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulders. This changes the angle of your hips, allowing his tongue to dive deeper into your core as your back arches from the sensation.

Before you can register him moving, Frank’s middle finger breaches your entrance. He pushes it in slowly, watching in awe at the way your tight walls engulf his digit whole. You groan at the intrusion. He curls it ever so slightly, a chuckle caught in his throat as your hips begin to grind down on his palm.

Frank wants to tease you, he really does. But for your first time together he can barely contain his excitement, let alone make you wait any longer than you have to, so he slides his ring finger in as well, developing a smooth rhythm that has you crying out his name.

He presses his tongue up against your clit, sucking it into his mouth as his fingers work to bring you closer and closer to your first orgasm of the night. You feel the familiar ache in your abdomen as he picks up his pace.

“Frank, fuck, fuck—” You whine. “‘M close.”

He groans against you in response. He wants nothing more to have you cumming into his mouth, your sweet slick dripping down his tongue as he licks your pussy like it was made for him.

Your thighs begin to tremble and shake around his head. You scrunch your toes in pleasure as your eyes roll into the back of your head. You see stars as Frank brings you to the edge. When you cum, it's with a gasp and an arch of your back. You throw your head back against his pillow, and Frank doesn't let up on his movements as he works you through your orgasm.

When you finally come back down from your high, you see Frank with a shit eating grin between your legs. The lower half of his face shines with your juices.

“Oh my god,” you blush, bringing your hands up to your face to hide your embarrassment.

“Fuck, that was hot.” He laughs, pressing a wet kiss to the inside of your leg.

He climbs back up your body, wiping his mouth before kissing you softly. His tongue runs over your top lip, sliding its way into your mouth. You taste yourself as he deepens the kiss. Your hands run up and down his shoulders until your palms come flush with his chest. You feel the softness of his hair over the sharp edges of his muscles, sneaking your fingers down to the drawstring of his sweatpants. You undo them as Frank suckles at your neck.

You gingerly slip a skilled hand down his pants until you feel his erection through the thin fabric of his boxers. He hisses through his teeth at the relief the pressure from your hand gives him. You bite your bottom lip before cupping him gently, then raking your nails over his lower stomach once more before slipping your warm hand into his underwear. You gently grab his cock, watching as he shudders into your body. An involuntary whimper escapes his throat as you slowly begin stroking him up and down, feeling how hard and angry he feels even in the dark.

“‘M not gonna last long if you keep doing that.” He groans.

You can't help but smile at the way his face scrunches up in pleasure as you continue to tug at his weeping member, occasionally running your thumb over his slit, gathering the precum before spreading it down his base.

“Can’t wait anymore. Need you.” He states plainly, grabbing your wrist and removing you from his pants before he stands up, removing his sweats and underwear in one motion.

His cock, now free from the restrictive fabric of Frank’s boxers, pulses red between his legs. You drop your head back onto the mattress. He’s big.

“Need you to fuck me, please,” you beg as he leans over to his bedside table, ripping open a condom. He throws his head back as he slides it over his penis, eventually lining himself up to your dripping entrance. He drags his mushroom tip up and down your soaked folds, tapping your clit lightly. Your legs twitch at the stimulation.

“You're my favorite, you know that?” He teases.

You drag him down for a kiss. Your nails scrape down his back as he slowly begins to push himself in, watching with hooded eyes at the way you take him so well. It's lewd—down right pornagraphic the way you sound. You feel yourself stretch around him, chest rising and falling as he kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans as he begins to move his hips.

He’s slow at first—calculated, like he’s thought long and hard about each stroke. His hips find a rhythm that makes your mouth fall open and leaves your mind blank, only one thing running through it—Frank, Frank, Frank.

Your hands fall from his back onto his soft sheets, scrunching them up in between your fingertips. Frank leans back and grabs your thighs, throwing them over his shoulder before pressing his torso into yours. You gasp at the change in angle. Suddenly, with each thrust he reaches deeper and deeper, grunting each time his thick head brushes against the spongy part in your walls, enthralled at the way it makes you moan.

His pace feels unrelentless and unforgiving. For a man whose admitted to liking you and respecting you so much, he sure fucks you like he doesn’t. It only brings you closer to the edge.

You watch his face in a haze. The way his lips part slightly, the small beads of sweat that have gathered on his forehead due to the physical activity, the way those piercing blue eyes that you love so much suddenly look pitch black with lust.

He reaches his thumb down to circle your aching clit, biting his lower lip as he watches your back arch, pushing your tits into his face. He wants this burned behind his eyelids forever, buried alongside him in his grave.

Your high pitched whines and hics let him know you're close again. He feels the way your walls clench around him, gushing out your arousal with each slam of his hips. You move your legs down to wrap around his hips, linking your ankles together to pull him impossibly closer to you as he continues to pistol into your pelvis. You cum unexpectedly, like a white hot blaze bubbling in your stomach, shooting down your veins before you even realize it's happening. It renders you speechless. Tears prick the sides of your eyes as Frank works you through it, his encouraging yet incredibly sexy voice whispering praise in your ear.

When you come down from your high, you feel the way his hips stutter. Their movements, once precise, now feel erratic and dangerously close to finishing. You watch in amazement as his eyes squeeze shut. He grows louder and louder, slurred words leaving his lips as he tells you how good you’re doing, how nice you feel, how he could fuck you forever. His hips slam and eventually stall, a growl making its way into your shoulder as he releases his warm load into the latex of his condom.

Your fingers find the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck as he pants above you. You two laugh gently before Frank’s arms give out, leaving him to lay on top of you. You bear the weight of his body for the light neck kisses he gives you in return. Something tugs at your heart. The moment is slow, hazy in the best way. It's yours to share and hold.

When he finally pulls out of you, you whine at the loss of contact. You could have stayed like that forever. With Frank, forever.

“I know,” he whispers. He can already read your mind.

He walks to his bathroom and is gone for a moment, discarding his condom and cleaning himself up slightly before wetting a washcloth to wipe you down as well. It’s warm and comforting as he cleans up the mess you made between your own thighs, a mixture of the condoms pre-given lube and your own arousal.

When you hear the start of his shower, you smile softly. It feels so domestic, like what you’ve always craved with Frank. Like what Chad never gave you.

He helps you up off the bed, cracking another joke about you slipping as your legs try to find some balance. All you can do is give him an annoyed look before his lips are on yours again, dragging you from his room to the shower.

You fall asleep in his arms afterwards. You're dressed in an old shirt of his, a pair of his boxers clad on your lower half. His sheets smell like you and him. You two speak softly about what this all means, how long you’ve wanted this, how much Frank has needed you. About how he’ll never let you go now that he has you, and no Chad is changing that.

You kiss him gently. A thank you, an I’ve missed you, and an I love you seemingly all said with one small peck.

Frank doesn’t fall asleep immediately. You’re slumped against his chest, softly breathing in and out as his fingers curl against your lower back. From here, Frank begins to memorize the slope of your nose from up close, the fluffiness of your eyelashes that flutter occasionally. He’s thankful for this moment of peace. He always wants this, he realizes. You, in his arms. His ring on your finger. Your toothbrush next to his. The smell of your shampoo on his scrub tops that will no doubt distract him.

He drifts off thinking of his rule that he followed dutifully for a long time. He’s still following it as far as he’s concerned. He knows he’s not supposed to have favorites, and he doesn’t.

Well, except for you.

likes, comments, reblogs, and follows are always appreciated :)

#frank langdon x reader #frank langdon #the pitt #dr langdon x reader #dr frank langdon #dr frank langdon x reader #frank langdon smut #the pitt hbo #dr frank langdon smut

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scribesynnox · 5 months ago

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Mer Worldbuilding

Ooooohohohohohoho!!! Man oh man oh man oh MAN!!!!! I have!! SO!!! Many ideas on mer culture but no where to publish them UNTIL NOW!!! With @keferon's mer au!!!

I just have so many thoughts!!!!

Different kinds of culture in different regions! Merfolk who live in rivers and lakes and near the shores, vs those who live out in the open ocean near the surface vs those who live in the abyss zone vs those who live near the ice caps. Religions centered around moon and stars and the rise and fall of the ocean as she breathes.

So like, this is more of a worldbuilding post than apocalyptic ponyo post but whatever, we ball.

merfolk who live in colder waters like the deep sea or near ice caps have antifreeze proteins in their tissues so they don't freeze

hey, a tf thought here: Skyfire being a big giant marshmallow of a mer, chilling in the north and just minding his own business, doing some research on the magnetic fields in the poles, but gets bothered by this tiny screaming little creature. He's pretty sure that's a human, but he's also pretty sure that humans aren't supposed to be this far north. Maybe it's lost? Poor thing. Meanwhile, researcher Starscream is screaming at whatever giant stupid fish keeps fucking up his readings and it's cold as SHIT out here and god DAMN it, he just needs ONE GOOD READING before he can go back, BUT THE STUPID- oh fuck that's a giant human-fish-mer thing actually. Oh shit.

counterpoint: skinny ass mer starscream doing research in the north who befriends the weird human that also lives here (though he didn't befriend Skyfire initially cuz the whole POINT of moving out here is so that he didn't HAVE to deal with the weird nosy uncanny things that have two weird arm things instead of a tail. But Skyfire wore him down and now they're buddies :) Skyfire is all bundled up in his arctic gear and Starscream is just out here like the temperatures here aren't cold enough to kill a man.)

Also, this means that Starscream has to worry SO much about Skyfire freezing to death, oops :)

and they were BOTH researchers! :D

merfolk who live near the hydrothermal vents being more poison resistant cuz of all the toxic metals there.

Much like how humans fucked around and found out with fire and electricity, merfolk fucked around with currents, thermal energy, stupid amounts of pressure, and magnetic fields. Those are their main power sources, depending on the area, like how humans primarily use electricity.

Hey hey hey, who wants to talk about eels for this tf mer au? Because i wanna talk about the idea of electricity being a relatively new power source for merfolk, that used to be a less common thing. Like, it was definitely used before for a LONG time, but it used to just not be feasible to have on a wide scale, and limited to just areas that have eels. And with transformers in the mix, combining mechs and eels and electricity, i don’t know what to do with it man, but the potential for something fun is there.

Ooooooo, prosthetics and cyborgs and mechanical enhancements maybe? I don’t know, I’ll have to get back to this later.

FUCK MAN, THINK ABOUT THE WHALE FALLS. Some regions who see it as a gift from above, other seeing it as just another part of the cycle of life, part of the ebb and flow of the ocean, life dying and feeding many others, and other regions just seeing it as a tragedy, a great majestic creature dying and lost to the deep abyss below.

I spend a lot of time on how people will have different philosophies based on the world around them and the ocean is a very different world indeed.

Speaking of religion, what about Drift? What would his religion be if he was a merman? I don't know enough about Drift to say what sort of philosophies and ideals he would have as a mer, but it would be so fun to think about.

Red is one of the first colors to go the deeper you get into the ocean. Many fish that deep down there flat out can't see the color red cuz they never had to. Ergo, red reading as caution or danger or scared or sneaky, etc, to any merfolk that come from the deep, because red is used as camouflage at those levels.

BIOLUMINESCENCE. Oh my FUCK can we talk about bioluminescence? Because ooooooo pretty shiny lights that flash and flicker go brrrrrrrrrr.

You know that moment in ponyo where they communicated via flashing lights? That morse code bit? Yeah, that but for merfolk. Flashing lights at each other so they don't have to whistle so loud, or in closer conversations, biolights just being used as a mood indicator, like posture and body language.

Also! Speaking of all those different mer cultures in different regions and zones, the TRADE!! The travel and trade between these regions and zones! Deep sea folk swimming upwards and having to squint from the bright lights, needing sunglasses. Surface layer merfolk swimming downwards and having to use specialized sonars or red light flashlights, like glowing red rocks or torches or something, in order to being to see their surroundings.

I have! More to say! But I am eepy and if I don't post this bit now, I never will, so out this goes, hit post.

#my posts #transformers stuff #my writings #writing ideas #apocalyptic ponyo #worldbuilding #mer au #i love thinking about different cultures and anthropology was my favorite class #I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ON WHAT IF'S ON OCEAN CULTURE #clothes! music!! FOOD!!!!#DANCING AND TRAVEL AND SONG AND POEMS AND AND AND #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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diorcities · 7 months ago

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poison.

── why if you two broke up, you keep messing with him? you're his poison, but he can't help but want you to come back to him. haechan x you genre smut content dacryphilia, heavy make out, angry sex, manhandling, tits play, oral sex, riding, clit play, fingering, orgasm control. wc 3k

author's suggestion for next reading: one of the girls.

mdni.

when you try to kiss him and he pulls away, you know how upset he is.

“yn, cut the shit.”

dodging you only makes you more affectionate, and his attempts to get away from you while putting distance between your bodies don't work either. he forcibly ignores you even when you stand in front of him to look at the sternly expression, but you're too reveled in the shape of his mouth and his attractive features to bother noticing it.

you want to kiss him. fervently, ardently. you want him to remember you every time he do it with someone else. you want to leave such an impression on him, that he ends up having to look for someone who looks like you to make up for when you break his heart.

his responsive heart, when he takes your wrists on one hand when you try to grab him by the neck. so close to his weak spot that it gives you away immediately, “of course you find it funny.”

his eyes full of venom look at you before he gives you a withering glance that only makes you giggle.

“i'd say hot...”

he moves your wrists even though you try not to. the roles reverse when he's the one pushing you into his body. your smile falters when he licks his lips. eyes attracted like a magnet to see the gesture. “this is all a game for you.”

you scoff, “everything is a game for me.”

he gets closer, so much so that you're sure his dark eyes could catch you like a black hole. “you sure you want to play a game right now?”

there is a smoothness in his every action. from fixing his hair to tying a tie. driving with one hand on your thigh and carry you in his arms to the bedroom. his arms holding his weight on top of you, the sounds he makes against your mouth, the fact he can move you where he wants you, his fingers tattooed on your skin forever. the way he knows he has you. “can it be one where i win something?”

his eyes darken visibly, you fear falling and falling if you look at him for a long time.

moments before, you were getting bored. nothing surprised you, nothing attracted you.. maybe you were just full of yourself. but your guilty delight, your deepest fascination was always been able to make him jealous. because then... his gaze becomes heavy, and his jaw tighten.

to kiss his pursed lips away gives you more satisfaction than when you hooked up with all his friends.

the moment of waiting to feel his mouth on yours kills you. your eyes follow his features effortlessly attractives with your doe eyes, and he watches you do it. something puzzles inside you.

he lift your chin to align your mouth with his. “oh, yeah?”

he's is taller than you, his delicate body and chiseled muscles sometimes make you forget how strong he can be when he grabs you by the waist and moves you with ease towards the wall to attack your mouth hungrily.

you feel his smile on your mouth when you scream at him pressing you softly against the wall and his body. the warmth radiating from his presence clutters your senses. the burning kiss overwhelms you, getting sharper, haechan makes you sigh in his mouth.

haechan has the grip on your chin, where he controls the depth of the kiss; trapped between him and nothing, between falling into his arms or into the abyss.

you're so dazzed, you can only wait for him to use you at will. pleasantly, you don't resist when he kisses your neck and buries his head to suck in your scent. when his hands grope you and press on your back. when he comes back to your mouth for more. “you're the devil.”

he turns on to see you willing, your small hands on his shoulders and arms, the way your mouth takes him possessively. kissing his cheeks and neck, jaw and lips again. unable to make you stop despite feeling the pressure in his pants, waiting since the night began.

destructive and lethally beautiful, haechan's intoxicated by you. you are his favorite poison.

your mouth is intoxicating, and the soft sighs he brings out of you are fanciful to him. opening your legs to see how wet you are, you watch him bury his head between your thighs to give you a taste.

your back arches involuntarily, a heat overwhelms you, and a tingling spreads from your stomach to every nerve ending. you're sweet and honeyed, your pussy gets more soggy when he puts his mouth on your clitoris, and fills the room with soaking sounds. “oh god!”

he entices the sweetest moans out of you. his tongue passing through your core causes you to stifle a whimper. your legs are opened under the firm grip on your thighs, keeping you spread and receiving the motion of his mouth. it is impossible for you to escape, your body trembles and a spasm runs through you when he introduce a finger and press your swollen core, “mmm... hyuck... f-fuck-”

your intimacy burns and goes numb, a pain hits you when it settles in your belly, gaining strength, growing. your stomach shrinks and your eyes flutter. the fog crowds your eyes and you moan feeling the sweet sensation stop.

haechan pulls away and your eyes meet. you barely see his figure, imposing himself on you as he grabs your ankles because of the tears that come over you when he cuts the pleasant feeling.

“beg for it.”

“please.” your mouth feels dry when you see him put two fingers in his mouth.

he wastes no time and resumes the pace. two digits are inserted and begin to roam you rhythmically while his eyes observe what he does. “you look so beautiful, so hot and pretty for me.” your legs open wide for a full view, that makes you grunt when they press on a different angle. “let me hear my name.”

“hyuck—” the movement generated by the friction of your walls with his fingers covers your ears in pleasant wet sounds as something delicious embalms your muscles. “hyuck, i'm cumming...” a hiss assault you when a sweet pain hit your gut.

your digits desperately go down to your femininity to calm the unbearable pleasure. your eyes close tightly and your hand winds up in his forearm, muscles flexing as he works his fingers in and out of you. “cum on my fingers.”

a strong pulse thunders in your pussy and takes your breath away from the destroying orgasm. your face gets wet and you make a face that doesn't go unnoticed; haechan's gaze falls on you and watch you with perverse attention as his fingers keep moving inside you, wetting your legs as you squirt around his digits. “g-god,” you cry in a whiny voice that he finds enticing.

his half-open, inviting mouth kisses you fiercely in a euphoric feeling. you taste the silkiness of your arousal on his tongue as he deepens the kiss, cradling you in his arms as he washes the climax out of you.

in one move, he makes you straddle him. your hands go to his warm chest, feeling his heart beating fast under your palm as his erection presses into your intimacy. “how are you feeling?” he asks, caressing your sides up and down.

you have a hard time finding your voice, and he likes that. “good.”

his face comes dangerously close to your chest, where he fits his mouth around your tit through the dress. the mere sensation of his breath and the warmth of his mouth makes you squeeze your legs around his waist. “just good?” he presses you towards himself when you try to pull away. his caresses are intoxicating; you brush his hair and let yourself go, rocking your hips back and forth.

haechan hisses when your hands reach down to the buckle of his pants to take it off eagerly. you get back on his lap and waste no time when you align his length with your pussy and go all the way down.

you both moan loudly.

the dress starts to slide off your shoulders as you start riding him. you go up and down in accentuated and deep movements, feeling with immensity and pleasure the way in which his cock fills you whole. haechan presses against your walls and his dick buried in you creates a delicious friction. your eyes roll as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and begin to rock him rhythmically.

his hands control your hips and assist you when you ride it more intensely. you go back and forth on his cock at a crushing pace, watching his expressions writhe and head fall back. he's all flustered and out of space; it makes you grin. “fucked, baby?” you slow down and change the rhythm. that just makes him jerk under you and squeeze your waist.

a strong pulse in your guts takes your breath away when he laughs shortly. you're so sensitive that you tremble all the time.

you see him underneath you, with his bedroom eyes, brown and round. delicate cheekbones and soft features, contracted by the pleasure you give him. haechan is by far the most beautiful and alluring man you've ever met; you're still haunted by him every time you fuck someone.

all you want is him. to see him moan your name, yet his mouth is kept sealed. “am i not fucking you good?” you express, rocking back and forth, hearing your wetness all over his length.

he sneers, eyes furrowed. his tongue pokes the inside of his cheeks as he uses his hands to control your body. you both look at each other intensely as he helps you ride him. “hae-” a sweet current spreads through your muscles and makes you gasp.

your body shudders and he rolls his eyes, shutting close just as he offers you his hands for support. “tell me you love me.”

“fuck you.” laughing only makes haechan's sensations enhancing; your walls have pulsed around him. and you suffer more spasms when he brings a hand to your clitoris to feel yourself doing it more. addicted and intoxicated by how well you squeeze around him, he hisses.

a tingling sensation runs through you while a sharp sensation forms in your intimacy seeing him leaning to you and kissing you fervently. half-open mouth taking your lips with expert savagery, passionate and deep. he grabs the back of your neck and turns his head, your hands press on his chest and you increase the intensity of your body taking him full, rhythmically and harder.

your mouths drown out each other's moans, “you're fucking mine,” you declare, you promise. and the minutes that pass without him answering make a hole open in your chest.

“fucking yours.”

haechan hisses when he feels you pulsing, non-stop moving on him, leaving your orgasm in the background as you continue to ride him with agility and desperation. “so hot...” your pussy pricks with sharp pain that makes your eyes roll as you fuck him dumb with unbridled and messy movements. “cum in my cock, yeah?”

he pulls your dress down further until your breasts are exposed. his mouth get closer and suck around your nipple, making you speed up the thrusts. your eyebrows gather with pleasure at the way he hits your sweet spot. cock fitting perfectly in your needy pussy, fucking you out. you start grinding against him and scream. “hyuck—”

“mmm... you're so good.” his hands assist you to give you more balance. he squeezes gently and loosens, seeing him so enraptured only makes you lovesick and needy.

“fill me up, hmm? baby..., s-stuff me, hyuck” haechan grunts and buckles his hips up, shoving his entire cock into you at the same time as he starts to pulse hard. he grimaces when your walls clench, wrapping him tight as he fills you with ropes of hot cum, slick seed coming down his length and bathing his crotch.

an electric current of delight whips you as he nuts inside and whines loudly, eyes fixed on your pussy taking him all the way in while he rubs your swollen clit. the orgasm comes to you livid and pleasurable, leaving you gasping for air.

“a-ah,” you whine, feeling your legs burn and tremble, pulsing around him.

you keep it inside as he continues to massage you and your body begins to shake from the overload of pleasure. you ride him unconsciously as a white noise fills your head and makes you go numb.

you slump on the soft surface of the bed face down.

when you position yourself on your stomach, you look at him with dreamy eyes. haechan opens his eyes with characteristic mockery when he understands exactly what you want. “fuck me harder.”

he, then, proceeds to move on top of you. his arms imprison you inside, his warm chest touches your back. he possessively wraps an arm around and across your chest as he place a kiss on your shoulder.

your mouths opens and lets out a breathy gasp at the feeling of his cock pressing against you. your hands squeeze the sheets as he gently enters, a strange sensation whips you at the friction between your plushy walls. haechan opens you up for him and pushes some more, making your legs shake with bewilderment before a wave of pleasure blows the air out of you and encourages you to push your hips into it.

he stretches you good for him, and waits for you to sit comfortably with him inside you before he begins to thrusts. drugged and dazed from the way your sweet cunt take him. he looks at you, bewitched and he's in deep shit.

he wants you. his hand keeps you close to him, pounding you the way you want it. the way you love the most.

“deeper,” you plead.

your mouth forms an o when he fills you completely and muffles a growl against your shoulder. “oh, y-yes.”

the strange and pleasurable sensation expands to your belly when he begins to penetrate you in short thrusts. you barely feel him move inches out before putting it back in. you stifle a long cry against the mattress, trembling from head to toe with buzzing ecstasy.

your previous climax only aggravates your sensations, still awake. your numb pussy releases a sweet sensation when haechan fills you and you squeeze the sheets, listening to his laborious breathing against your skin each time he pounds into you, hitting your sensitive spot until you're a mess of babbling nonsenses.

“hyuck— don't stop.” haechan fights so as not to lose the battle of succumbing at that moment, feeling you so narrow around him, squeezing his girth just right. your body under his, taking it while rolling your eyes. feeling a white noise go down to the tip of his penis, he moans your name.

his hand interlocks with yours as he speeds up the pounding. the room fill with his moans and the lewd sounds of your bodies connecting. “yes, yes. a-agh.” you bristle and stick your back against his chest when a current whips you. “hyuck!”

he pushes you against the bed to sit up and the shifting position cause his dick to bury deeper. you both moan at the same time. his hands goes to press into your lower back to keep you down, shoving his dick until you tremble from head to toe, in and out of you with a bestial motive.

his eyes see where your bodies meet. you connected to him every time he moves his pelvis towards you and his creamy length disappears between the soft and fluffy buttocks that he keeps apart to see how it enters. “fuck, baby.”

a smile blooms on your face while you're in the clouds, knowing what he's doing. a spasm shakes you when the rhythm changes and he fucks you with harder. moans becoming louder as his climax approaches.

your eyes mist up and roll hard under the pressure on your lower belly. liquid pleasure going down to your area until it hurts from the touch. you twitch and cry, feeling his cock hammer you sharply.

everything collapses when you cum and the pulsations squeeze around him.

haechan pulls away breathing heavily, giving you a spanking that tickles your femininity. you're so deranged that you let yourself be taken by him. his arms wrap you and position you on pillows as he kisses your neck, cheeks, and lips. your legs barely give way to stay tied around his waist as he guides your limbs with his hands, tucking his body between your legs, overwhelming you in his embrace.

you're so dizzy with crushing pleasure that you didn't notice him finishing.

“be good and take me one last time.”

#haechan smut #donghyuck smut #haechan hard hours #lee haechan smut #haechan hard thoughts #donghyuck hard hours #♡haechan

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fairuzfan · 2 years ago

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Also re:necropolitics of israel (click)

A few days ago there were reports of Israeli soldiers "returning" bodies of martyrs they took like just straight up from Gaza. Here is a report about bodies being stolen from al-Shifa (click).

The director of Al-Shifa had reported the bodies being stolen back in November (click) before his arrest. The hospital workers mentioned not knowing why the soldiers would do that. The speculation of the photo-op arose because the photo-op of October 7th within Israel happened a month and a half after October 7th, after the Al-Shifa raid. People (Palestinians) noted that the level of violence done to the bodies seemed similar to what they had been seeing with the bombs in Gaza, and found it hard to believe that Hamas could inflict that much damage. There was a thread that was examining this idea but I haven't found it as it's been a bit. If I find it, I'll comment on this post.

But even then, Israel routinely makes corpses serve out their sentences or even outright steals them for the sake of enacting psychological torture onto the relatives of the martyr (click). The burial process is an essential step in mourning and grief, which means by withholding the bodies, they ensure that the family is unable to recover emotionally from the death of their loved one nor are they allowed to move on. This is essentially a form of ensuring that people are unable to resist as the emotional toll this takes on them is quite high.

A variety of reports and testimonies are linked in this article regarding the harvesting and removal of organs throughout the years by Israel (click). The most damning of the evidence is a testimony by Dr. Meira Weiss in her book "Over Their Dead Bodies." The article has a translated passage from Hebrew about the period at the turn of the century and their practices then (roughly 1996-2002):

“They would take corneas, skin, and heart valves, while noting that non-professionals would not notice the absence of these organs as they would place something plastic in place of the corneas and ‘take’ the skin from the back so that the family wouldn’t see it. In addition, the bodies of detained martyrs are used in medical colleges at Israeli universities for research purposes.” Weiss confirmed that “in the first Intifada, the army effectively allowed the institute to extract organs from Palestinians under a military procedure that required the autopsy of a Palestinian prisoner. The autopsy procedure was accompanied by organ removal, which was used by the Israeli Skin Bank established in 1985 to treat burns suffered by Israeli soldiers. This was after the Chief Rabbinate Council issued a ruling legitimizing it, which led to saving the lives of many Israelis who were injured during attacks on Palestinian citizens, continuous assaults, and wars — at the expense of Palestinian martyrs, according to specialized Israeli medical sources for burn treatment.”

It's worthy to note: as an occupying force especially, Israel should not be doing ANYTHING with these bodies and just returning them to the families. I've seen some people say "they didn't JUST harvest Palestinians' organs, they also harvested Israeli organs." It doesn't matter. They are an occupying force that enacts systematic violence on Palestinians especially and within this context, anything Israel does towards Palestinians is a targeted, racialized violence. It is widely known that Israel denies crimes it has committed until many, many years, especially from during the Nakba, such as well poisoning.

People provide evidence that organs can't be used after a certain point in time.... in this context (October 2023-December 2023), it's not about whether or not the organs were used for anything. It is specifically for the purpose of body desecration which Israeli soldiers especially have not been shy about. Here is a report during the bulldozer massacre in which people report that Israeli soldiers run over bodies for no other reason than desecration (click).

Also, remember the grave desecration that happened a few days ago? It was reported that they had stolen bodies believed to belong to young Palestinian activists then (click). This is widely known as 'necroviolence' on Palestinian bodies in order to humiliate them (click).

You cannot remove the context of an oppressive force (Israel) that is documented to have disrespected graves and bodies. You must analyze it within this context, not any others. Withholding bodies of Palestinians, no matter what they did while they were alive, is a form of disrespect and oppression on a subjugated population. To deny that this happens and to attribute it to antisemitism is not only disrespectful of Palestinians' mourning rights, but also an effort to remold the narrative into one of "Jewish people against Palestinians" by emphasizing the Jewishness of the occupying force rather than focusing on... you know... the fact that they're an occupying force known to enact violence on Palestinian martyrs.

#palestine #gaza

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bellaxgiornata · 7 months ago

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Jax Teller Headcanons

Quiet Moments with boyfriend!Jax

Being Sick

Jax Teller x fem!Reader Series

You Are My Sunshine [Installment List]

Warnings/tags: 18+; sunshine!Reader/grumpy!Jax (somewhat), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, canon divergent, canon typical violence (more tags to possibly come)

Recently released from a stint in Stockton Prison with a few of the Sons, Jax is still struggling with Tara returning to Chicago over a year after he killed Agent Kohn for her. When he returned to Charming, Jax noticed a coffee shop had sprung up across the street from Teller-Morrow Automotive and the clubhouse, oddly finding himself watching the strangely cheerful owner through the windows. One night he feels drawn to step inside, but he's left even more confused when the owner feels like the embodiment of sunshine itself. Jax quickly realizes that the more he visits her shop, the more at peace he finds himself.

Comfortable Here in the Chaos [Series Masterlist]

Not long after you’d taken the position as Teller-Morrow Automotive's office manager, you find yourself in a friends with benefits arrangement with Jax Teller. While the pair of you have plenty of fun, you're entirely unaware of the feelings gradually creeping into your arrangement.

[Series of interconnected one shots revolving mostly around Jax and Reader's sexual encounters.]

Falling Apart & Torn at the Seams [Installment List] *Completed*

warnings/tags: 18+; pregnant!Reader, angst with an eventual happy/hopeful ending, emotional hurt, briefest hint at abortion, pissy Jax, Clay being Clay

Shortly after you started working as the office manager at Teller-Morrow Automotive, Jax and you had become serious–something Gemma and Clay hated. Afraid you'd take Jax from the Sons, they slowly poisoned him against you. But as Clay continues to pull Jax deeper into the club while the rift between both of you grows, you unexpectedly discover you're pregnant. Desperate to keep the secret hidden from everyone–including Gemma and Jax–Clay threatens you and your unborn baby.

Letters from the Outside [Installment List]

warnings/tags: 18+; prison!Jax, bit of sunshine/grumpy dynamic, prison pen pals, fluff, angst, mentions of violence, potential smut, canon-divergence, mentions of Reader having a brother, mainly short pieces about Jax and Reader's letter correspondence

When Lowen encourages Jax and the other incarcerated Sons to enroll in Stockton Prison's new program, Wire of Hope, in order to increase their odds of parole, Jax thinks it's absolute bullshit. Hoping to get back home sooner, he signs up anyway. But what he doesn't expect is how quickly he begins to look forward to your letters.

All That I Can Give [Installment List]

Warnings/tags: 18+; ex-prostitute!Reader (Reader has a slight backstory), mentions of physical/sexual abuse, canon typical violence, smut, angst, hurt/comfort

With Lyla moving over to produce films at Redwoody for the Sons, Nero finds himself in need of someone to run the front of Diosa and to help with the administrative aspect. When a few of the girls recommend you–a blunt, vulgar street girl from Stockton trapped working for a heartless pimp by the name of Hades–Nero can't resist hiring you without consulting Jax first. Though Hades isn't willing to let his Persephone–the prized thoroughbred of his whores–just slip through his grasp. But after Jax meets you, not only is he determined to keep you safe, he’s hell-bent on giving you everything you've never had before.

I Would Never Hurt You [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; past sexual abuse, trauma, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, somewhat nervous!Reader, soft Jax, panic attacks, eventual smut, Reader has a brother (patched Son)

For months after you'd broken up with your ex, you and Jax had been in a flirtationship. Though you'd always kept Jax at a distance because his lifestyle reminded you far too much of your musician ex–and that terrified you. But your trauma and warnings don't stop Jax from desperately wanting to get closer to you.

Not Like Before [Chapter List]

Warnings/tags: 18+; nurse!Reader, canon-divergence (no Abel or Thomas), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, girl dad Jax

Jax met you at a bar out near Fresno, California while on a run with the club. Unable to deny the instant attraction, you brought him back to your place for a few hours of the best sex of your life. Almost two months later, you realized you were pregnant with his kid and no way to contact him. Due to your hospital's budget cuts, you end up taking a job at St. Thomas Hospital, bringing both Emilia and yourself to Charming five years later, entirely unaware that the local MC is the one your daughter's father runs–and that out of the hundreds, you were the one he never forgot.

Take Me to Where Your Heart Is [Series Masterlist]

warnings/tags: 18+; bisexual!Reader, canon-typical violence, canon-divergence, sexual content/smut, angst, MC president!Reader, Tara drama

After the Insurgents MC unanimously vote in a deal with the IRA to help distribute their guns east, your club ends up in a partnership with SAMCRO. You're prepared to deal with their inevitable lack of faith in your leadership as a female and the backlash of a potential turf war with the Hellspawn Outlaws. But you're not prepared for your new partner to stir up things you've never let yourself feel before, or for how much you care when his ex returns to Charming.

I Need You More [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; canon-typical violence, brief depiction of near underage sexual assault, angst, hurt/comfort

Despite being the quiet, studious girl in Jax Teller’s class, you’d had a crush on him since the sixth grade. When he rescues you at seventeen, that only cements your feelings for him–though you’re complete opposites and he’s dating Tara. Eight years later, you return to Charming after your aunt passes, and the once shy, studious girl catches Jax’s attention. But when that attention nearly kills you, Jax can’t help but blame himself.

We Almost Had It [Series Masterlist]

Your relationships always seemed doomed to fail, but it wasn't all just because the small town of Charming didn't have much to offer. You just happened to be in love with your best friend.

I'm Down for You [Series Masterlist]

For the few years that you'd been living in Charming, you knew far better than to ever associate with the Sons. They were dangerous and total trouble. But what are you supposed to do when Jax Teller suddenly takes an interest in you?

Want to Know You Better [Installment List]

Pairing: Jax Teller x Fem!Reader

Warnings/tags: 18+; investigative journalist!Reader, bodyguard!Jax, enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, canon divergence, eventual smut, slow burn, angst

For over a year you had been tracking Aleksander Petrova through California–a Russian crime lord known to abduct sex workers for his trafficking ring. Seven months ago, he disappeared from the L.A. area, but a series of missing women in Northern California catches your attention, drawing you to Charming in the hopes of linking enough evidence together to once again get the FBI involved. But when the Sons’ President makes a terrible first impression before inserting himself into your work, your investigation turns into more than you anticipated.

All the Good That's Left [Installment List]

Pairing: Jax Teller x Fem!Reader

Warnings/tags: 18+; ex's to lovers , fluff, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, sexual tension, smut, an Alaskan road trip on Jax's bike (more tags to possibly come)

After the past year of helping your childhood best friend with planning her wedding, that feeling of having lost yourself since leaving Charming had only grown. Eight years later, her wedding finally pulls you back to the small town for a single weekend, but in the hopes of clearing your head, you plan to disappear on a solo road trip to Alaska the day after. Though when you unexpectedly run into your ex, old emotions rise straight to the surface, and when Jax refuses to let you disappear again, he invites himself on your weeks-long trip–but is there anything left to salvage between you both after all this time?

Jax Teller x fem!Reader One Shots

Wrong Number [1] [2] [3]

Warnings/tags: 18+; humor, sexual content/discussions, wrong number, Jax POV

After a night of drinking at the clubhouse, Jax's morning is interrupted by the most entertaining wrong number he's ever received.

A Bit of Relief

Warnings/tags: 18+; explicit sexual content, period sex in the shower, newly established relationship

When both of your schedules constantly conflict for two weeks and keep you from each other, Jax doesn't care that you're on your period.

All of You

Warnings/tags: 18+; emotional hurt/comfort, love confessions, appreciating Jax's back tattoo, nonsexual showering

Jax has always kept part of himself hidden from you, but when he comes home with the evidence of his evening visible on himself, your reaction surprises him.

Blur the Lines One Last Time

Warnings/tags: 18+; cheating, mutual pining, jealous Jax, sexual tension, no happy ending (unless expanded into a mini-series), Reader smokes

For two years you'd been dating Ryan, having been together before he'd prospected for the Sons. After he patched in a few months back, your relationship had taken a backseat to the club. Despite him bringing you to the clubhouse as his old lady, Ryan was always distracted by the guys, the alcohol, and occasionally the girls. But you soon found yourself distracted by Jax, the pair of you secretly flirting behind Ryan's back. Though nothing had ever gone further than that–until one night when it does.

What's Left to Lose [Part One] [Part Two]

Warnings/tags: 18+; nurse!Reader, angst with an eventual happy ending, pining, emotional hurt/delayed comfort, Tara is an ass, Reader smokes, Reader has a brother (nameless/description-less to be inclusive as possible)

Ever since your brother patched into SAMCRO's charter and you moved to Charming three years ago, you and Jax grew close. Despite having quietly fallen in love with him, you'd accepted your position as just his best friend–until Tara unexpectedly returns to Charming and rips him straight from you. Now you're left feeling like nothing at all to him.

Worried About You

Warnings/tags: soft!Jax, hurt/comfort, migraines

Normally Jax receives texts from you all day long, but for some reason today he hadn't heard a thing.

Hold on a Little Tighter

Warnings/tags: 18+; Light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, post-shower naked Jax cuddling (that always needs a warning)

Ever since Opie passed, Jax has been lost. When he returns home late at night, you're the one he needs to help hold him together.

How Much Did You Miss Me?

Warnings/tags: 18+; smut, f!masturbation, cocky Jax and his filthy mouth, somewhat rough sex (kinda, not really), porn with minimal plot, unprotected sex

While Jax is on a protection run, you're desperate to ease some tension so you can fall asleep. But when he unexpectedly returns early, he's determined to prove he's better than your toy.

Something Changed

Warnings/tags: 18+; smut, soft!Jax, porn with plot, friends with benefits, angst, morning sex, not entirely a happy ending (unless I make a second part...)

Jax had become a close friend of yours over the past few years, and in that time it had become an accepted and unspoken fact that when you both drank together, you'd wind up in bed together. So waking up next to each other some mornings wasn't abnormal–but having sober sex the morning after definitely was.

#jax teller x reader #jax teller x fem!reader #jax teller x you #jax teller #sons of anarchy #jax teller smut #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller fic #jax teller fluff #jax teller angst #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam characters

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homunculus-argument · 1 year ago

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My usual problem of "and then some other shit happens" is that they keep piling up on top of each other. This morning, I was just about to start work when

mail comes in. I've received a letter from the tax office.

I open the letter and get a Fuck No Way That's Right kinda bill.

time to hit up my accountant and ask what the fuck do I do now

realise that I haven't delivered my accounting stuff for like four months either, gotta apologise to her about that too

e-mail doesn't go through, double-check the address, re-type my whole apology and explanation again

four consecutive e-mails do not go through

fuck I gotta call them, where's my phone

just as I was about to make a phone call, I receive a phone call

forgot I had a phone appointment with my doctor, turns out I do not have a natural physical resistance to poison damage, and my medication resistance is something else.

confident in my ability to execute two unrelated tasks at once, I take a sip of my tea while on the phone. Naturally I fuck it up and pour the lukewarm tea on my lap instead.

figuring that since I'm unhurt and only poured enough to soak my clothes, not my chair, I'll just sit with the wet tea on my lap until the phonecall is over, and hang them to dry on the balcony later.

phonecall done, I remove my clothes and go hang them up to dry.

spot my little ficus tree cutting on the balcony, decide to water it since it's so hot and I don't want the thing to die.

coming back inside after leaving my clothes on the balcony, my boyfriend sees me undressed and wants affection.

he also wants to show me a video that he came upon.

make myself more tea

coming back to my computer, remember the phonecall I was supposed to make.

call the accounting people and tell them I can't e-mail the person I worked with, and get informed that the person I had been working with quit unexpectedly, and the one currently running the whole business on her own will look into my shit once she's personally out of the hospital. She meant to call me earlier about What The Fuck I'm Doing but unfortunately hospital.

promise her to deliver my accounting things today since it's the least I can do to not make her day any worse than it already is.

save through my paypal activities, log onto my online bank, check my account and do some math to confirm that I should more or less be alright until my next payday. Move some more money to my bank card account for groceries, and log out.

remember that the reason why I logged into my bank in the first place was the accounting, and log back in to get that data.

send my records to my new current accountant with apologies for not doing that for four months despite of being supposed to do it monthly.

finally done with that, satisfied of actually Getting Things Done, I suddenly realise I've spent the past three hours on random sidequests, haven't even touched whatever it was that I was planning to do today, and top of that I've completely forgotten what it was that I meant to do.

waste another half an hour writing a meticulous account of how I spent my morning doing everything else than what I meant to.

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kisshae · 8 months ago

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i hate fruits ──── ★ ⠀ YU JIMIN !

PREC𝒾S , loving karina feels like biting into the ripest, most forbidden fruit—deliciously sweet yet laced with danger. every glance, every touch is a temptation that lures you deeper.

🕸️ —PAR𝒾NGS , best friend!karina x lovesick!fem reader ft mark (nct), intak (p1h), manon (katseye) ★ genre , wlw friends to ??? angst uni au wc 3.2k warning(s) kissing arguments??? reader is down BAD for karina

? - now playing california, beabadoobee

"I hate fruits," you mutter under your breath, staring at the apple in your hand. the skin is shiny, almost too perfect, just like karina's smile. you know you shouldn't want it, shouldn't be this obsessed, but here you are, drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

she's standing there, laughing, the carefree joy radiating from her like sunlight.

for a second, everything feels normal. but you know better. it can't be. it never will be. every laugh, every glance she sends your way—each one is a temptation you can't resist. you wish you could just walk away, cut this twisted obsession out of your life before it eats you alive.

but instead, you stay, glued to her every movement, slightly begging for the next moment to drag you deeper into this pit of sweetness.

you take a bite of the apple. it's too sweet. too perfect. like karina. and just as poisonous. you don't know why you keep doing this to yourself, why you keep letting her in.

every bite makes you want more, but you know you'll regret it the moment you finish.

you can't tell her. you can't even tell yourself the truth. that you're in too deep. that you love her in a way that's wrong, twisted even. but there's something inside you that wants it—needs it.

you wish you could hate her, even for a moment, just to break free of this suffocating feeling. but how could you? everything about her is so... perfect?

it's not like you haven't tried to ignore it—her. the crush. the obsession. the way your heart races everytime she's near. but impossible. you can't escape her, not when she's in every class, sitting just a few seats away, laughing with that same carefree smile that makes you want to scream and kiss her all at once.

you tell yourself it's fine. it's just a phase. you're best friends. that's but every time she looks at you, you swear you see something deeper in her eyes, something more.

it's like she knows. like she can see straight through you, into the mess of tangled feelings you can't make sense of. and she doesn't say a word.

but that's the problem. she doesn't need to. her silence is just as loud as her laugh. and every second you spend with her, every moment where your fingers accidentally brush, it feels you're unraveling.

"are you coming to the party tonight?" karina's voice breaks through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present.

you nod, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even though your insides are a storm.

"yeah, i'll be there." your voice is steadier than you feel. maybe too steady. "good," she says, glancing at you with that smile that makes your chest tighten. "I'm glad. it wouldn't be the same without you."

a flutter of something—hope, maybe—spreads through you, and you bite back a nervous laugh. "I'm not that important."

karina raises an eyebrow, her expression softening just a little. "you're not important? I don't know about that. you're always there when I need you."

you swallow, your throat suddenly dry. her words are innocent enough, but it feels like a knife twisting inside you. every word she says to you, every compliment, makes this crush harder to bury.

"i'll see you there," you manage, the words tasting like a promise you know you can't keep.

as karina walks away, you can't help but watch her go, the ache deep in your chest growing stronger with every step she takes. you want to shout it all out—to confess, to scream, to finally stop pretending. but instead, you stand there, watching her disappear into the crowd, and tell yourself that you can still walk away. that you can still hate this.

but the truth is, you can't.

the party is loud, the air thick with laughter and music, but none of it matters. you're here, but your mind is elsewhere. you keep scanning the room, trying to focus on anything but karina.

your friends, intak and manon, are talking to you, trying to pull you into the conversation, but your attention keeps slipping.

they don't see it.

they don't see that every word, every smile feels hollow when karina isn't in your line of sight. you force a laugh here and there, nodding along, pretending to care. but it's hard to concentrate when karina's across the room, talking to mark.

there she is, laughing, her blonde hair catching the light, flipping it over her shoulder as if she doesn't realize how perfectly she shines.

you feel a sudden tightness in your chest, a sour jealousy stirring deep within you. it's ridiculous. you shouldn't feel this way. you shouldn't care. but every time you see her smiling with someone else, every time someone else gets to share her attention, it's like a knife twisting in your gut.

mark's leaning in a little too close, and the way he speaks to her—soft, casual, like they've known each other forever. you want to scream, to run over and pull her away, but you just stay frozen, watching, feeling sick as you try to ignore the jealousy gnawing at you.

"hey, you okay?" intak's voice pulls you back into reality. you glance over at him, forcing a smile, but it's tight.

"yeah, i'm fine." your voice comes out a little flatter than you intended, and manon raises a brow, but she doesn't say anything. she just gives you a concerned look before turning back to the crowd.

you try to focus on them, but your gaze just keeps darting back to karina and mark.

watching as mark leans in just a little more, his hands resting on her shoulder, and it takes everything in you to not turn away. you can't stand it.

you hate how they're laughing together, how easily he's standing close to her, the way she seems so comfortable.

but you can't stop staring.

"are you sure you're okay?" intak asks again, his voice laced with concern. but he doesn't know. he can't know what it feels like to watch karina be so effortlessly close to someone else.

you just nod, forcing a smile again. "yeah, i'm good. just.. tired."

and you pray they won't notice how your gaze keeps drifting back to her, how the pit in your stomach grows deeper with every passing second. you try to shake it off, pretending to be present in the conversation with intak and manon. but it's impossible.

the room feels suffocating, your thoughts drifting back to karina and mark every few seconds. you need a break.

"i'm just gonna grab another drink," you mutter, already turning towards the kitchen. you don't wait for a reply, the words hanging in the air behind you as you make your way through the crowd.

you move quickly, pushing past people, desperate for something to occupy your mind, even if it's just the simple act of refilling your cup. the kitchen is quieter, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

you find the liquor and start pouring, the sound of the liquid hitting your glass oddly calming for a moment.

but then you hear the soft click of footsteps behind you, and you freeze. it's manon. you can tell by the way she moves that she's not buying the act.

"you're not fooling anyone," she says quietly, leaning against the counter next to you, arms crossed.

you don't look at her, focusing on the drink in your hand. "I'm fine," you mutter, but the words feel weak even to you. manon doesn't respond right away, just watches you, her eyes sharp.

"you're not fine. you're barely holding it together.' her voice is soft but firm, like she's seen through every wall you've built.

you bite your lip, but the words won't come. she's right. you can't keep pretending. the jealousy, the ache, the way you feel like you're drowning every time you see karina with someone else—it's all too much to handle. you feel like you're about to snap, and all you want is to hide, to escape this mess of emotions.

just as you open your mouth to say something, anything, the kitchen door swings open, and there she is.

karina.

she steps in, her blonde hair glowing under the light, and her eyes immediately find you. there's a slight frown on her lips, and she's moving towards you, her usual playful energy replaced by something more possessive.

"what are you two doing here?" karina asks, her voice a little too sharp, a little too curious. she looks at manon, then back at you, and before you can answer, she steps closer. "i've been looking for you."

manon raises her brows, but doesn’t say anything, stepping back and giving you both some space.

karina doesn’t wait for an invitation—she slips her arm around your waist, pulling you gently toward her. It’s sudden and clingy, almost desperate, and the shift catches you off guard.

her fingers lightly grip your sides as she leans into you, her body close in a way that makes your breath catch. “let’s go somewhere else,” she murmurs, her voice softer now, her face just inches from yours.

there’s a possessiveness in her touch, like she’s marking her territory, and you don’t know wether to pull away or pull her closer.

“karina…” you say, the words barely coming out, your heart racing faster.

she doesn’t let go. instead, she tugs you along the hallway, ignoring any protests you might have. “you’re not staying here. you’re with me tonight, okay?”

you glance over at manon over karina’s shoulder. she’s watching the two of you leave, her gaze unreadable.

karina doesn’t seem to notice, her focus solely on you, her hand still wrapped around your waist like she can’t bare to let you go.

you wonder if she feels it, too—the way the air between you shifts when she’s this close. you wonder if she knows how much you need her, how much you crave her touch. but you can’t ask her that. you can’t let her see how deep this is.

not yet.

karina doesn’t stop tugging you along until the cool air hits your face. the noise of the party fades as she pulls you onto the porch, the door clicking shut behind you.

for a moment, there’s silence.

just the two of you under the glow of string lights, the muffled bass of the music vibrating through the walls.

you try to steady your breathing, your heart still racing from the way she grabbed you, from how close she was just moments ago. but the look on her face stops you cold. she’s not smiling. she’s not laughing. there’s something sharp in her expression, something that cuts straight through you.

“what’s going on with you and manon?” she asks, her voice low but tinged with something you can’t quite place—anger? jealousy?

you blink at her, caught off guard. “what are you talking about?”

karina crosses her arms, her hair falling over her shoulder as she tilts her head, studying you like she’s waiting for you to confess to something. “you too looked… close. i didn’t like it.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. you open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out at first. finally, you manage, “manon’s my friend. what’s wrong with that?”

her jaw tightens, and she takes a step closer, her eyes locked on yours. “it’s not that. it’s the way she looks at you. like she wants something more.”

you let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “that’s ridiculous. she doesn’t—“

“she does,” karina interrupts, her voice rising slightly. “and you just… you let her. you don’t see it, but I do.” your chest tightens, frustration bubbling to the surface.

“why do you care, karina? she’s my friend. you can’t just pull me away and act like this everytime i talk to someone.”

her lips part like she’s about to say something, but then she hesitates. her gaze flickers, and for a moment, she looks almost vulnerable. but then the mask slips back into place.

“because it’s not just ‘someone’,” she says, her voice quieter now but no less intense. “it’s her. and I don’t like it. I don’t like the way she looks at you, the way you let her be so close to you.”

your heart skips a beat, the weight of her words settling in your chest. you don’t know what to say. you don’t know what to feel.

“karina…” you start, but she shakes her head, cutting you off.

“i’m your best friend,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “i’m supposed to be the one who… who knows you best, who’s there for you. not her.”

the air between you feels heavy, charged with something unspoken. you want to ask her why she’s really upset, why she’s acting like this. but you’re afraid of the answer. afraid of what this might mean for both of you.

instead, you take a step back, needing to breathe, to think.

“you don’t get to decide who i’m friends with, karina.” you say quietly, your voice firm despite the storm raging inside you.

her eyes widen slightly, and for a second, you think she might argue. but she doesn’t. she just stares at you, her expression unreadable, before finally looking away.

the silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating, until she finally whispers, “i just don’t want to lose you.”

the words hang in the air, and you don’t know how to respond.

because the truth is, you’re already lost. lost in her. and she doesn’t even realize it.

you step forward, closing the gap between the two of you, your breath hitching as you take her in. the glow of the porch lights casts soft shadows over karina’s face, highlighting the blush that blooms across her cheeks and nose from the chill.

her lips are slightly parted, her breath visible in the frosty air.

your hands move before you can stop them, gently cupping her face. her skin is cool under your palms, but it sends a warmth through you that you can’t explain.

karina doesn’t pull away—she just blinks up at you, her eyes wide and searching, like she’s trying to understand what’s happening.

you let your gaze roam, tracing every detail you’ve memorized a thousand times but can never get enough of. the curve of her jaw, the way her lashes flutter uncertainly, and then—her lips. they are slick with gloss, glistening faintly in the dim light, and you can’t stop yourself from staring.

the faint scent of cherries reaches you, sweet and enticing, it’s like everything else fades away.

your heart races as your eyes meet hers again, and for a split second, you hesitate. but the longing, the ache, is too much to hold back. you lean in, closing the distance, and then your lips are on hers.

it’s soft at first, tentative.

her lips taste just like cherries—sickly sweet yet intoxicating, sending a rush through your veins that’a equal part bliss and madness.

it’s overwhelming, dizzying, like taking a bite of forbidden fruit you can’t resist, no matter how dangerous it feels.

for a moment, karina freezes, but then you feel it—her kissing you back.

her hands flutter uncertainly before finding their place, one gripping your arm, the other resting lightly on your hip, as if she’s trying to ground herself in the moment. the kiss deepens, and it’s everything you’ve held back is pouring out all at once.

for a moment, it feels perfect.

her lips moving softly against yours, hesitant but searching, and the way her hands hold onto you makes your chest ache with something too big to name.

your pour everything into the kiss—all the longing, all the frustration, every stolen glance and unspoken words.

but then it changes.

her grip on you tightens, but not in the way you expect. she tenses, pulling back slightly, and before you could fully register what’s happening, her hands push against your chest—firm, almost frantic.

you stumble back a step, your heart dropping as she stares at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “what the hell am I doing?” karina whispers, almost like she’s asking herself.

her lips are still flushed, her breath coming fast, but there’s a distance in her gaze now, like she’s retreating somewhere you can’t follow.

“karina—“ you start, reaching out instinctively, but she jerks away, her arms wrapping tightly around herself as if to ward you off.

“no,” she cuts you off, her voice trembling. “this…this was a mistake.”

the words hit you like a slap, sharp and unforgiving, and all you can do is stand there, rooted to the spot.

“I shouldn’t have…” she shakes her head, her blonde hair catching the faint glow of the porch. “I don’t know what I was thinking. this can’t happen.”

her words sting, but it’s the look in her eyes that twists the the knife deeper—fear, confusion and something else you can’t quite name.

“karina, please, just listen—“

“I can’t!” she snaps, her voice breaking, and the crack in it makes your chest tighten. she takes a shaky step back, her hands trembling as she brushes hair out of her face. “I don’t know what this means, and I… I can’t deal with this right now.”

you watch helplessly as karina backs away, the distance between you growing with each step.

finally, she turns and rushes back into the house, the door slamming shut behind her. the muffled sound of the party seeps through the walls, but it feels like it's miles away.

you stand there in the cold, the taste of cherries still lingering on your lips—a sweetness that now feels unbearable. the air feels heavier, colder, and you sink onto the porch steps, burying your face in your hands.

the porch feels colder without her, the air biting against your skin as you sit there, staring blankly at the ground.

the noise of the party is a distance hum, muffled and meaningless. all you can focus on is the lingering feel of her lips, the warmth of her hands, and the way it shattered in an instant. you trace your thumb over your bottom lip absentmindedly, tasting the faint sweetness that still clings there.

cherries. so sweet it hurts. so intoxicating you can't breathe.

you lean back against the railing, closing your eyes against the ache building in your chest. "I hate fruits," you murmur, your voice a hollow echo of the chaos inside of you.

the sweetness, the temptation, the inevitability of being consumed—it's all too much. but the worst part isn't that you kissed her. it's not even that she pulled away.

the worst part is that, for a fleeting moment, she kissed you back.

because now you know. you know there's something there, something real and terrifying, and you can't take it back.

the door opens behind you, the noise of the party spilling out again for just a second before it clicks shut. you don't bother looking up. it's not her. you'd know if it were her.

instead, you sit there in the quiet, letting the cold seep into your bones, wondering if you've just lost the one person you can't live without.

and somewhere in the back of your mind, a thought blooms, sharp and persistent: 'i don't hate fruits. I hate myself for loving them.'

#aespa #yu jimin #karina #aespa x fem reader #aespa imagines #karina x reader #yoo jimin #wlw #kisshae #aespa karina #aespa x reader

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