#'hey actually hang on a second this is kind of fun. you did a good job' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

achenetype · 7 months

Note

Hihi can you please do a Luke x reader where it’s basically an unrequited love like reader is so in love with Luke and he has no idea so she moves on and years later she’s over him and confesses to him like a oh I thought you should know and the whole time Luke had been in love with her, kinda base it off that one TikTok audio where it’s like “I’m not in love with you anymore” “I never knew you were” 🩷🩷

OHH YOURE FEEDING MY ANGST BRAIN WITH THIS ONE. buckle up lets break some hearts

edit: this ended up being WAY sadder than i originally intended. i am so sorry anon oh my god

i gave you a rare gift (but you didn't want it) — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

content: angst, major character/reader death, unrequited love, mutual pining, reader is part of kronos' army, luke and reader are doomed by the narrative, [Y/N] used (sparingly), alcohol mention, description of injury

listening to: bloodfest (from mizumono) by brian reitzell

You are twenty-two years old, sitting on the rocky beach of a lake somewhere in the forests of upstate New York. Light, gentle fog hangs in the air around you, and the only sound is the tap-tap-tap of Luke skipping rocks across the water.

Come dawn, the world will burn. The gods will be dethroned. Every demigod will either be free, or dead.

But now, at midnight, you are twenty-three and Luke turns to you. He's holding a small, squashed cupcake in one hand. "Happy birthday," he says, "to my right-hand man." He pauses. "Woman. Right-hand woman."

He holds the pastry out to you and smiles, but something behind his eyes is empty. Hollow. He hadn't been sleeping recently. As much as he tried to hide it, he couldn't stop you from seeing when he came to you every morning for a cup of coffee and to debrief for the day.

Perks of being the revolution leader's best friend, you think. His right-hand woman.

Luke's eyes flick from the cake to your face. "Do you like it?" He asks, and for a split second, you swear there's a note of hope in his voice. "I wanted to do something, y'know," he says. "Twenty-three is huge. It's a monumental age."

You nod, but stay quiet.

He pauses for a second. "You remember how you always said you wished you never had a birthday?"

When you were twelve, nearly thirteen, your mother drove you across the country to go to summer camp.

"It'll be like a road trip," she said, tossing your duffel bag into the back seat of her battered car. "And then, hey, you'll only stay at camp until the end of August, and then you can come back and go to school. See all your friends again." She squeezed your shoulder and pushed the car door closed. "How about that?"

"Sure," you said. "Super fun."

And it was; you were actually kind of excited. You'd never been to New York. It seemed a million universes away.

And it was your birthday tomorrow. Maybe this was a gift, something that your mother had put together to make up for the years of being too tired and too drunk to make a cake, or get presents, or anything.

Your mother put her hands on her hips and sighed. "You know how I feel about the attitude, yeah? Let's not do this today."

"I wasn't even trying to—" You cut off as your mother glared at you, her face tense. You knew that look: the biting-the-inside-of-her-cheek, trying-to-be-understanding, trying-to-be-a-good-mom-despite-it-all look.

You hated that look.

"Just..." She sighed. "Just get in the damn car, [Y/N]."

You did, fighting back the tears building in the corners of your eyes, and the slam of the car door closing was as loud as thunder.

Twenty silent minutes of city streets and highway merge ramps and cold, empty stretches of asphalt and concrete passed before either of you spoke.

"Mom," you said, thirty-three seconds into minute twenty-one, "I'm sorry for talking back earlier." Your voice was quiet, shaking, cupped in your throat like a scared animal.

She didn't answer, keeping her eyes fixed on the road.

"I don't like being like this, Mom," you said, looking over at her. The silhouette of her through the driver's side window, backlit by the streetlights, was shapeless. Impassive. "I don't like doing this with you all the time."

She scoffed.

You pulled your legs to your chest, tucking your head between your knees, and tried to find sleep.

You weren't sure how long you slept, but you woke up to the sound of music playing softly over the speakers. Exit signs whizzed past you at what felt like breakneck speed. You wondered, briefly, if you would break your neck if you jumped out of the car right now.

Ultimately you decided against it. You didn't want your mother's last words to you to be, get in the damn car.

That would make her feel guilty, you thought, and that guilt would make her hate me even more.

"I don't wanna fight," you tried instead, picking at a loose thread in the cuff of your jacket sleeve. "Mom, I'm sorry, okay? I don't want us to be mad at each other anymore," you said. A sob caught in your throat, heavy and wet and choking.

Your mother sighed and reached one hand from the wheel to tuck your hair behind your ear. "I know you don't, sweetie," she said. "I don't want to be mad at you either."

"Then why do you do it," you asked.

When she turned to look at you, her eyes were wet. She smiled, or tried to. "Sometimes, certain people just…can't help but fight," she said. "It's just part of who we are, I think."

"Did you fight with Dad?"

Your mother inhaled, quick and sharp through her nose, as she flicked the turn signal to right and guided the car down the exit ramp from the highway, her eyes locked ahead. "Yes," she said. "Sometimes. Sometimes I think that's where we get it."

You swallowed. "Do you ever miss him?"

She doesn't peel her gaze away from the road. "Every day."

The two of you made your way through bustling streets and across too many bridges to count. You thought you fell asleep again, for a minute or maybe a year. Maybe it was all a dream.

"Mom," you asked as she turned onto a worn dirt road, the sunrise barely stretching over the horizon, "why are you bringing me here?"

She didn't answer for a moment. Two moments, then three. Through the leaves, you saw one tree standing impossibly tall. A pine tree.

Your mother parked the car and turned to you. "Because I don't know what to do with you, [Y/N]," she said. "I don't know how I can keep you," she paused, "safe. How I could do this, on my own, in any normal way."

She got out of the car and grabbed your bag, shoving it against your chest. "Camp is just up that hill there," she said, gesturing in the direction of the large tree you'd seen earlier. "They’ve got people up there waiting for you."

"Mom," you said. "Wait, I—I wanted to talk to you—"

She shook her head. "I can't come with you, sweetie." She smiled, the curve of her mouth falling just short of her eyes. "You just remember that I love you, okay?"

At that moment, you knew: she was going to leave you here.

“No,” you said, tears rolling down your face. “No, no—Mom. Mom, please.”

“Before you go,” she said, her voice tight and sharp, “I wanted to give you this.” She reached into the back seat and pulled out a jacket, worn leather with patched elbows. “It was mine in college,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. Like she was reading from a play or book, and you were the unfortunate audience. “I figure, it doesn’t fit me anymore.”

She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”

It was the first time you had ever felt like your mother loved you. You knew she liked you, sometimes. But you were never quite sure if she loved you until that moment.

And then she got back into the car with one final, teary nod.

And you never saw her again.

“Yeah,” you tell Luke, shrugging. “I think I’ve got a pretty good reason, though.” Your lips curve into a smile.

He laughs and tilts his head. It’s a habit of his; he’ll say something and twist his neck just a fraction, narrow his eyes. A nervous tic that not even years of training and fighting and killing could stamp out.

You used to think about kissing his neck when he did it, but now you’re not sure whether you would know the difference between kissing and ripping his throat out.

“True,” Luke concedes. You laugh, too, unrestrained and loud. “Gods, your sense of humor is dark.”

“You laughed first,” you remind him. He grins.

The cupcake he offers you, despite its lumps and smears of frosting, is pretty good. You split it apart with careful fingers and hand half of it back to him.

“You’re celebrating with me,” you laugh, “so you get half. That’s the rule.”

Luke simply smiles at you and takes the crumbling cake from your hand. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, grinning back. “Damn right.”

Luke’s laugh rings out again, sharp and bright against the night sky. Firelight flickers across his face, painting him in brilliant streaks of orange and gold.

“After tomorrow,” Luke murmurs, pulling his knees up to his chest, “we can do this whenever we want.” The wind ruffles his hair almost fondly, floppy brown curls stirring and settling back against his skull.

You raise an eyebrow. “This?”

He gestures in a wide arc. “Be here, like this. Just be people, instead of demigods or heroes or revolutionaries.” Luke’s voice picks up, conviction surging into his words. “I mean, seriously—when was the last time you thought you would ever have a normal life?”

You’d never understood the demigods who joined Luke’s cause without knowing him. The plan itself seemed crazy—the only way anyone would follow it was if they knew their leader could pull it off.

You have to know Luke to know he was capable of that, you think.

Until now. Now, you see what you think everyone else sees—a real leader, a revolutionary. A force for change with a silver tongue.

He makes it all seem so possible. You almost think he might pull it off.

Luke looks over to you. “We’re going to change everything,” he says.

Almost.

“We’re going to change the rules,” Luke said, spreading the map over an empty cot in his cabin. “If we want to win, we need to be thinking six steps ahead of the enemy.”

A few of the campers huddled around the makeshift table shuffled and coughed awkwardly.

“Every strategy’s been done before,” a tall girl with bubblegum-pink hair and an eyebrow piercing shouted from the back of the group. “How are we going to out-war the god of war’s kids?”

Murmurs rushed around the table, soft and susurrant. There’s no way we’re going anywhere here. We’ve gotten our asses beat six weeks in a row. What are we even doing?

Luke smiled. “Ares is the god of war,” he said, “not strategy.” He slung his arm around one of the campers next to him and inclined his head in the direction of the map.

Quietly, almost too quiet for you to hear, he murmured into the girl’s ear. “Don’t doubt yourself, Bethy,” he whispered.

You learned three things in the ten minutes that she spent explaining your team’s new strategy—

—one, your team was going to kick some major ass—

—two, your strategist’s name was Annabeth Chase, and she was the smartest eight-year-old you have ever met—

—and three, Luke was right.

Annabeth’s plan took the rules of Capture the Flag and threw them out the window. She split the team into four subgroups, each with a delegated leader. Luke nodded along as she talked, marking the map with a stubby pencil.

When Annabeth’s eyes, dark and piercing, searched the crowd and landed on you, you felt your heart stop.

“You,” she said, “are you good with a sword?”

You raised your eyebrow, pointing to yourself—just to confirm this genius child was speaking to you—and Annabeth nodded.

“I guess?” You said, shrugging. “I know some basic stuff, and I’m good at disarming.”

Annabeth’s face broke into a smile. “Work with Luke on the first wave of offense.” She gestured to the map. “You two will take points B and B-one,” she explained. “My group will take the A-points. You wait for our signal to move in.”

You met Luke’s eyes across the table. Hey, you mouthed.

His eyes flicked up and down your form. Hey, he mouthed back. You ready to win?

You smiled and nodded.

Good, Luke said, all teeth. Let’s go.

He stood and grabbed his helmet. You did the same.

“I’m [Y/N],” you said as you followed Luke through the forest. “We, uh—we met when I first got here, like, a year ago.” I was sobbing my eyes out because my mother abandoned me, you didn’t add. It was kind of pathetic. I think I threw up from crying so hard.

You suddenly hoped Luke didn’t remember meeting you, actually. That would be less embarrassing.

He turned and caught your eye. “You live in the same cabin as me. ‘Course I know you.”

Of course he remembers.

You laughed, flushing red. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

The silence was so thick, you could have cut it with the sleek bronze of your sword.

In the end, it was Luke who broke the silence. “You wanna play a game while we wait out here?”

You shrugged. “Sure,” you said.

“Twenty questions,” Luke replied. “So we can learn enough about each other to actually work together.” He smiled. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you said, your voice just barely taking on a teasing tone. “It’s green.”

Luke laughed, loud and full and bright. “Apologies,” he said; mirth crept into his words, staining everything with a tinge of that laughter. “I’ll go for the more gut-wrenching, intimate questions next time.”

You flushed red again. Intimate questions. What the hell does he mean by that?

“My turn,” you said instead. “What do you want to be when you get older?”

“We’ll be heroes,” Luke whispers. “Real heroes. Not figureheads propped up by the gods.”

You wish you could believe him. He’s lying on the beach next to you, his head resting in the junction between your shoulder and your neck. Over the treetops, the stars are beginning to fade from the sky.

It’s almost time.

Your throat feels like someone has sanded it down to expose your vocal cords. This is a bad idea, you want to say. We shouldn’t do this. Tell me we can still not do this.

“Wanna play twenty questions?” You say, crackling and hoarse.

Luke turns to look at you. “Yeah,” he murmurs.

“My turn first,” you whisper. Luke nods.

You take a deep breath, in and out. “Are we going to die doing this?”

Luke inhales sharply. “Maybe,” he says. Slowly. Deliberately. “But we’ll do everything we can to make sure we don’t.”

“I got another question,” you say. Luke raises an eyebrow. His knuckles brush yours as you sit up.

“Are you scared?”

It’s your birthday.

You think you’re going to die.

Luke is kneeling over you, the palm of his hand pressed against the wet opening in your stomach where someone had caught you with a spear. The shaft of it is still sticking out of you, you think. You’re afraid to look down, afraid to see it.

“No,” Luke gasps, “no, no, no.”

You watch as the gold fades from his eye, leaving behind the honey-dark brown you remember. His hands are slick with blood—most of it’s probably yours, it has to be yours. You’re bleeding out, after all.

You tug on Luke’s sleeve weakly. “Hey,” you breathe. “Luke. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“No,” he says. “You’re—you’re hurt.”

“I know,” you rasp. “I know it hurts. I’m the one—”

You break off as a cough sticks in your throat. It feels wet. Oily. Desperate to get out. You taste the blood in the back of your throat before you can even take another breath.

“—I’m the one who’s feeling it,” you finish, your voice tilting up at the end. A joke. Gods, your sense of humor is dark.

Luke laughs weakly. “Don’t talk,” he says. “You’re gonna be just fine, [Y/N], just fine.”

He meets your eyes. You see him realize it in slow motion.

Tell him. Tell him now. He’s never going to know otherwise—he could die any minute—

“Luke,” you murmur. “Luke, did you know I loved you?”

He freezes. “What?”

You cough again. Blood spills over your lips. “I loved you,” you repeat. “Since we were campers. Had the…the biggest, stupidest crush on you.”

Luke shakes his head. “No, no,” he says. “You—”

“You’re my best friend,” you continue. “Whatever feelings were there, you’re my best friend.”

Luke’s palm against your stomach is warm. It feels safe. It feels like sleeping side-by-side in the cabin, like shared meals and shared secrets.

“Why are you telling me this?” Luke says, “why are you—why?”

You blink, just once, but it takes everything you have to open your eyes again after closing them. “Because I’m going to die,” you whisper. “And even if—even though I moved on, I wanted you to…to know.”

Luke bows over your body, pressing his forehead to yours. Tears slip from his cheeks and fall onto yours, driving little rivers through the blood smeared there.

He’s crying. Why is he—

“You idiot,” Luke says brokenly. “I loved you too. I loved you too.” He cradles your head in his lap, brushing your hair away from your face. “[Y/N], I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes slip shut.

I loved you too, Luke’s voice echoes. I loved you too.

#— ash's writing #pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #reader insert #y/n #pjo imagine #ok now we get into the warning tags #graphic depictions of injury #major character death #major character injury #reader death #alcohol mention #doomed by the narrative #genuinely im so sorry i really ran wild with this one good god #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfic #— ash’s answering!

511 notes · View notes

ayylovley · 7 months

Note

Hello! if it's not a bother for you can you please write part 2 of boyfriend and jealousy headcanons for Johan Seong, Vin Jin and Seonji Yuk?

yee part 2 with Johan, Vin jin, and Seonji, and feel free to ask for a part 3👍🏼(slight nsfw)

𝔹𝕠𝕪𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 2

⋆˚✿˖°Johan Seong

❤️Johan would not know how to be a good boyfriend, at first

❤️once he learns it goes 180 and he’s such a good boyfriend that you wonder what happened to the old Johan…

❤️I feel in order to date him you’d have to be friends with him. He got trust issues (every issue)

❤️how you met in the first place would be you did something kind for him.

❤️he seems stand offish and cold but when he gives you those sweet smiles is when you fell for him first

❤️once he trusts you he’d be clingy. In his head. Trying not to be a bother but he wants to be with you every single day

❤️as a boyfriend, he would want to be with you while he lives more comfortably or at least if he has money finally

❤️he wouldn’t want you going through the poor life with him because he wants to give everything

❤️he gets in a bad mood easily but with some soft kisses and comforting touch a lot of it goes away

❤️he’s definitely a virgin

❤️but a fast learner

❤️amazing kisser

❤️10/10

⋆˚✿˖° Vin Jin

❤️you’re gonna be stuck listening to his raps more often…

❤️not that they’re bad, just that most of them are about him.

❤️and you’ll listen anyway cuz you honestly like his over confidence

❤️however he doesn’t actually think that he’s the most handsome guy in school, he said he hates handsome guys and that part of his personality is just not to let people make fun of him.

❤️you’re the one who said he’s very attractive and meant it

❤️you got him blushing. That’s actually a hint of what got him asking you out

❤️even when you say it to him a lot he’s blushing and pretends to be mad at you for it

❤️”damnit (y/n) shut up with the sappy shit.”

❤️you’re raising his ego about his looks that wasn’t even there before he met you.

❤️still though he’s an asshole

❤️he’s confident about how he is in bed…

❤️honestly for good reason because he’s got a little experience and the rest is just natural talent

❤️and since you’re not a fling he will want to be better for you

❤️he’s an idiot goof and that’s why you love him

❤️like how Mary needs to control him you’d also have to otherwise he will think that he can act up around you

❤️and since he’s around you almost everyday he slowly dials down his prick side to other people

(I went a little overboard with Vin Jin hey he’s my second favorite in Lookism ok…?)

⋆˚✿˖°Seongji Yuk

❤️if you remind him how handsome he is and how you love every part of him he turns flustered as hell

❤️not very affectionate in public but times you’re hanging out with The Cheongliang Fam he’s more talkative with you and would touch you a little more

❤️but once you’re alone that’s when he can’t have his hands off of you and smothers you with kisses

❤️would teach you how to make tanghulu

❤️he doesn’t know much about sex stuff, just the basics

❤️he’s got 6 fingers tho so once he learns more about it he’s suddenly skilled (knows how to use every single one)🫣

❤️wouldn’t know how to kiss at first, he’d feel embarrassed and needs a little guidance

❤️once he gets the hang of it his kisses leave you wanting more

❤️would make sure everyone in the fam gets along well with you, you’ll become best friends with Mary!!

❤️your biggest protector and if there’s a situation where he can’t, he orders Cheongliang to do it

❤️best nights is when you’re all together by a fire telling stories or joking with each other and then once you’re alone with Seongji again he holds you, no worries or stress just good vibes

#lookism x reader #lookism comic #lookism webtoon #lookism #johan seong #vin jin #seongji yuk

429 notes · View notes

authorhjk1 · 2 months

Note

Good day! Wanted to see if this counts for queen Yoona. Its see-through and it does have color probably along the lines of silver or white gold but ofc how she presents it is quite astonishing I must say. There is a top and a skirt but the see-through is the highlight I must say…its ok if it doesn’t make the cut but I hope you can use this for future reference for a completely needy, horny, wants to be bred so badly that at certain times she loves riding and pleasuring you to the point of overstimulation because she loves you so much Yoona since it makes total sense she's the type you would never dare to pull out of (smirk).

https://kpopping.com/documents/19/1/3468/SNSD-YOONA-for-DAZED-Korea-x-MIU-MIU-September-Issue-2022-documents-3(2).jpeg?v=6b901

White Gold

(Lim Yoona X Male Reader)

You knew this was a test as soon as she stepped out of the bedroom. At first glance, her outfit actually looks nice. More skin than she usually shows. But still nice. Fashionable.

But as she walks over to you, you realize that Yoona is hardly wearing anything. The top and skirt are see through. And she is only wearing underwear underneath.

"I'm going out now."

You can hear from the tone in her voice that she expects you to stop her.

"Have fun."

You nonchalantly say, focusing on the book you're reading. You know that you can't win this test. You either call her out and she calls you controlling, or you don't call her out and she is unsatisfied with the lack of attention.

You gladly choose the later. It annoys you that Yoona has been like this for the last couple of days. You suspect one of her friends behind it.

"I will."

She says, the pitch of her voice already raising. That means she is preparing herself to argue.

Instead of addressing it, you keep ignoring her ridiculous excuse of an outfit.

"Are you not gonna say anything?"

It's the first time you actually look up from your book, after you looked at her when she walked out of the bedroom.

"What do you want me to say?"

"If you don't know, forget it!"

With an angry glare, Yoona leaves the house. The slamming of the door has you groan in annoyance. You know you can't let her go out like this. Especially not at this hour. She won't be coming home before midnight. Usually, she hangs out at a cafe with her friends. For some reason, they wanted to explore a new club. Not your kind of thing. But Yoona wanted to do it, since she hasn't gone to one since you two become a couple.

You close your book as you hear the door of the garage being opened. You know that Yoona would never make you feel uncomfortable on purpose. And yet, she is going out late at night, barely wearing more than her underwear. You wonder if this really is a test. Is she about to leave? Or is she waiting in the car?

Yoona looks to her left, when she hears the car door open. Your face is still emotionless, but she catches a hint of annoyance on your face. Not something she expected. She thought you'd be angry. She would never leave, dressed like this. But you still let her go.

"What? I'm leaving now."

Yoona is angry with you and herself. She can't back out now. She is too proud for that. But she feels awkward in these clothes. Why did her friend suggest this? What was she trying to prove? Yoona knew you aren't a bad person. So why is she doing this?

"I've had enough of your tests and your weird behavior. Get out of the car."

Yoona hesitates for a second, thinking about talking back. But your look makes her obey.

As soon as she stands in front of you, you spin her around.

"Hey!"

Yoona expected something, but not this. Her cheek is pressed against the car and you trap her body in place with yours.

"What is this, Yoona?"

She feels you slightly pull at her top. Your voice is colder than usual.

"You have a problem with it?"

She tries to keep up her act, but she knows she has lost. Whatever she was trying to prove, she couldn't.

"I do. Why would you go outside wearing basically nothing except your underwear?"

"You can't tell me what to wear."

"But I can fuck you whenever I want. And I want to now."

"Wait-"

That's not a scenario Yoona anticipated. She was preparing herself for a huge fight, which she caused herself and which she was probably gonna lose.

A heavy pull on her top and a push against her back. A loud rip eachoes through the garage.

"Oh my gosh! What-"

You just tore Yoona's top off her body.

"What? You're almost wearing as much as before."

You quickly unhook her bra and pull it off of her.

"You're not going anywhere dressed like that."

Your hands cup her small breasts as you speak. Yoona is torn between complaining and moaning.

"You're mine. I'm the only person who sees you like this."

"That's controll-"

Yoona tries to say the words her friend told her to say. But Yoona has to admit that it's stupid. Why would anyone walk around outside half naked? Especially when they have a partner?

"That's having boundaries. Being in a relationship."

You undo her belt and wrestle her arms behind her back. After tying her wrists together, you slip off her skirt.

"That means I can tell you what to wear too."

"It is about what we both feel comfortable with."

Another tearing sound. Another gasp. Yoona's torn panties fall to the ground.

"I'm not comfortable with you going out almost naked."

You place your tip at her entrance.

"And I'm not comfortable with you, talking to-"

You push inside Yoona.

"I won't talk to anyone you feel uncomfortable with."

You hear her sigh.

"Now shut up and let me use you."

Yoona stays silent, closing her eyes. She knows you're going to be a little rougher this time. She deserves it.

"Oh, god!"

She lets out a cry as you thrust into her. You pin her against the car, making her moan and whine as you fuck her hard.

"Like I said, you're mine."

You whisper into her ear as you have your way with her pussy. Yoona moans in response.

"I do with you whatever I want, when I want to do it."

To proof your point you give one of her ass cheeks a hard slap. She feels the pain, but begs for more at the same time.

Soon, both of you are beyond the point of talking. You use her scarf as a leash to hold onto as you keep fucking Yoona from behind. You see some of her saliva run down the window as she drools on it.

Both of you can feel that the other one is close.

"Please breed me. I need your cum."

Yoona weakly whines. She wants to feel your seed. She wants to feel desired. She wants you to show her how much you care about her.

"Give me all of it. Cum inside, please."

She whines and begs, but you have other plans.

It's hard to pull out. Almost impossible. Yoona's pussy is trying to keep you inside. And Yoona herself just feels so good. Her insides are perfectly shaped for your cock. Perfect for you to just dump your seed in her.

"This is your punishment."

You manage to pull off the impossible. In your head, you promise yourself you will use Yoona as a cumdump the next time you fuck her. But now, she has to learn her lesson.

Yoona trembles as you pull out, almost climaxing untouched. She whines, asking for your cum.

"Watch."

You pull at her scarf to turn her around as you pick up her panties. You quickly wrap them around your cock. It doesn't compare to Yoona's pussy, but it does feel good.

It only takes you a couple of seconds to ruin her white panties.

Yoona gasps, she can almost feel how you cum inside of her. That's how bad she wants it now.

"Don't even think about dressing like a slut from now on."

You throw the ruined fabric in her direction, before turning around to leave.

Yoona, still desperate for at least a taste of your cum, darts out her tongue. She closes her eyes as it moves over her cum stained panties. Yoona licks at least most of your it off the fabric. In her head, she is already trying to come up with a new outfit she can buy online. Maybe...

#ask #anon #kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #snsd yoona #snsd smut #snsd #girls generation smut #yoona girls generation #girls generation #lim yoona #yoona #yoona snsd

254 notes · View notes

superprofesh · 4 months

Text

The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Part 4

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: The fourth time Colt Seavers almost kisses you — on the brink of a promise he knows he can't afford to make.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.2k

Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer, @chemococktailonthehouse, @1word, @itzjustj-1000, @k-l-a-w-s, @hotdogbread23

Author’s Note: I've been blown away by how kind you all have been about this fic, and I'm so glad you're enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it! We've got two parts to go, and they only get better from here :) Thank you for all the support, and let me know what you think of this chapter!!

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It’s five o’clock in the morning, and Colt Seavers has already been standing in the misty parking lot for two hours when he finally sees your car pulling in the entrance.

The last twelve hours have been absolute torture for him. One minute, he was walking into the crowded club to drop off some equipment with the stunt coordinator; the next, he was sharing space at the bar with you, trapped under your spell despite all his vows that he wouldn’t keep pushing this flirty thing you’ve been sharing.

He’s been conflicted for months now, knowing that his feelings for you are only getting deeper but also knowing that a relationship with him is the last thing you need. No matter how hard he tries to be noble for you, he just can’t get free from the way you enrapture him so completely — the way he thinks of you every moment of the day, dreams of a future where you could feel about him the way he feels about you.

And he honestly thought you didn’t — that you couldn’t — until last night. When he completely wrecked everything, including your heart.

Colt squeezes his eyes shut again, remembering the way he pulled back from you just a few seconds before your lips would have met. In the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do: cut it off, laugh it off, let it go before he betrayed how absolutely captivated he is by everything you do.

He keeps telling himself that he did the right thing. That he’s no good for you, and you’re better off not getting confused by his overwhelming feelings for you. But he keeps seeing your face — the way all the light in your eyes vanished, the way your shoulders slumped and your expression wilted. He had no idea there were actual, genuine feelings on your part. And for him?

Colt has spent the last twelve hours deliberating how to handle this situation. He knows he has to make it right with you, but the question is how. His inner monologue has quite the speech ready for him. You can’t even THINK about confessing your feelings. You’re the one who has no future, no big dreams, maybe not even much longer to live! You have no right to force that kind of life on anyone. Especially if you really care.

After hours of tormented decision-making, Colt has come to the same conclusion he always does: he can’t let you know how he feels about you. He’s got to apologize, make sure you know he didn’t mean to hurt you, let you think he’s just been flirting for fun, maybe even rekindle your injured friendship. But he absolutely cannot let you know he’s in love with you.

And he is, isn’t he? He wouldn’t have waited with bated breath in the parking lot for two hours if he wasn’t madly, hopelessly, irremediably in love with you.

Colt has planned this conversation thousands of times since last night, but the only thing he can choke out when you climb out of your car and start toward the studio is, “Hey.”

You glance up at him in surprise, clearly less than pleased to find him hanging around the parking lot so early. His heart tightens at the sight of your pale face, the dark circles under your eyes betraying what was probably a sleepless night. “Hey,” you respond emotionlessly.

“Do you have a second?” Colt asks. His voice isn’t quite as strong as he hoped, but the sight of you is sending jolts of electricity through his veins.

You look to the side, pursing your lips and injecting a hint of coldness into your voice that he has never heard before. “Honestly, Colt, no offense,” you say plainly, “but I don’t really want to talk right now.”

Colt presses his lips together, knowing he’s the reason for this uncharacteristic coldness. “Believe me, I understand,” he blurts out, “but I’ve got to talk to you about last night.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you shoot back, fixing your stare on him again. Behind the coldness in your eyes is a deep sorrow that twists his heart. “I misread the signals, I overthought it, it’s not a big deal. You don’t need to explain anything.”

“Yes, I do,” he insists. “I messed up big time. I haven’t had a moment’s peace since last night, and I have to get this off my chest, okay? You don’t have to say anything.” He knows he sounds desperate, but he’s past caring. “Please, just hear me out and let me explain.”

You hold his stare, unrelenting, unforgiving. He loves you for it. “Fine.”

Colt releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding, overwhelmed with relief that you’re even willing to listen to him. His biggest worry all night was that you wouldn’t speak to him, wouldn’t let him make things right.

He plunges right in, knowing it will be messy but not caring. “Listen, I’m really bad at this, but I’m going to give it my best go. These past few months that I’ve known you… it’s been really nice. You’re amazing to be around, and I always feel better after I’ve hung out with you. You’ve honestly been the best thing about this shoot.”

Your expression doesn’t change, but Colt can feel the iciness in your gaze softening ever so slightly. It gives him the courage to press on, even though he knows what he’s about to say is going to devastate himself.

“The thing is,” he continues, heart in his throat, “I’ve been so caught up in just… flirting and messing around, that I haven’t paid attention to how it might affect you. I haven’t been paying attention to the signals either.”

You furrow your brow at him. “What are you saying?”

Colt, you are the worst at this, man.

“I’m saying… I’m really sorry that I hurt your feelings last night. I’ve been replaying it over and over in my mind, and I can’t get past the way you looked at me when I pulled away and laughed everything off. Just, the look in your eyes and the way you looked like I had let you down — it’s been killing me.”

Your expression finally softens, and Colt hates himself for the words that are coming out of his mouth. “I thought this was just a fun flirtation between friends and that it would be better to keep any physical stuff out of it. I didn’t know there was anything on your side. Honestly. Not until I saw how much it hurt you for me to just… act like it meant nothing.”

There it is again — that hint of betrayal in your eyes. Now that Colt knows you care for him, his decision to “do the right thing” suddenly seems like the most gut-wrenching, agonizing thing he’s ever done.

It’s all I can do. I have nothing to offer, nothing to make a relationship worth the pain it would cause. I love you, and that’s why I won’t tell you.

Your brow is still lined with confusion, trying to parse out his real meaning among the confusion of words. “But you’re still saying… it didn’t mean anything to you.”

This is killing him. “Of course it meant something to me,” Colt blurts out before he can stop himself completely. He tries to amend it. “Man, I am so bad at this. What I’m trying to say is… I would never have even started a flirtation with you if I knew it would hurt you. Please believe me when I say I would never, ever, in a gazillion years want to do anything to hurt you or make you feel like I don’t care about your feelings. I should have been more sensitive and realized that I can’t just… lead you on without it mattering.”

Lead you on. As if I didn’t mean every word I’ve ever said to you. As if I wouldn’t die for you right now.

You nod, pursing your lips again with a clearer, more determined look in your eyes. “So, just so we’re clear,” you say slowly, “there’s nothing going on? All this flirting and hanging out and almost-kissing — it’s just been for kicks?”

“No, no, not just for kicks,” he backtracks immediately. Even when he’s trying to be noble, he can’t betray your trust that far. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“What did you mean, Colt?” He can hear the genuine confusion in your voice. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

Colt takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he tries to focus on the right thing to say. “I’m just trying to tell you that I am so, so sorry for anything I’ve done to hurt you. I’ve been stupid and insensitive and awful, and I wish there was a way I could make it up to you. I just…” He opens his eyes, fixes them on yours so you know he’s telling the truth. “I couldn’t let this go without making it right with you. No matter what, you mean a lot to me, and the thought of losing your friendship honestly makes me miserable. Please just tell me I haven’t messed this up beyond repair.”

Please tell me I haven’t lost your trust completely. Please tell me I haven’t damaged the person I love most beyond repair.

You stare him down for what feels like an eternity, your discerning gaze burning holes into him. Finally, you sigh, seeming to come to a decision. “No, you haven’t,” you tell him at last. “I mean, I’m still trying to process everything and sort it all out, but… it means a lot that you wanted to have this conversation.” A note of humor slips into your voice, and the twinkle in your eyes makes a very welcome reappearance. “I mean, you waited for me in the parking lot like a stalker, so that says something. Not sure what.”

Colt laughs out loud at that, all the intense pressure of the night lessening with your words. “I thought about camping outside your hotel, but I thought it might be a little much.”

“Yeah, it would have been,” you agree, scuffing your shoes on the pavement.

Colt feels like the weight of the entire world has been lifted off his shoulders, but he knows he has to keep handling this the right way if he doesn’t want to risk hurting you again.

“So, are we okay?” he asks sincerely.

You nod, smoothing your hair back and closing your eyes while you think about your response. “Yeah. Yeah, we are. Just… getting some closure and some straight-shooting takes a lot of stress out of this.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Colt agrees. “I’m just sorry it took me so long to shoot it straight with you.”

If you can really call this shooting straight.

You shake your head, raising your eyes to meet his again. “No, I should have been more upfront, too,” you admit. “It would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

Colt’s first reaction is to argue, to insist that you haven’t done a single thing wrong, that this whole tangle has been caused by his inability to let go of the feelings he has for you, but he knows it’s best to let that go. Better to end on a positive note.

“Friends?” he asks tentatively.

“Friends.” You grin at him, obviously as relieved as he is to have mended your relationship.

Great, just friends again. Exactly what we wanted. Colt elects to ignore his inner monologue this time.

With the tension lifted at last, you heave a grand sigh and nudge his shoulder in the old familiar way, heading in the direction of the studio.

“So, where are you off to?” Colt asks you, falling in step beside you.

“Train station set,” you reply lightly. “Filming for that scene is supposed to start next week, so I’m scrambling trying to get everything finished. It’s the biggest set I’ve ever created from scratch, so it’s been a serious challenge.”

Colt grins down at you, nudging your shoulder with his the same way you just did. “I’m sure it’ll be amazing,” he assures you, meaning every word of it. “Your sets always are.”

You grin back up at him, your cheerfulness infectious. “What about you? Any big stunts today?”

“Nah, just rehearsing some choreography for a fight scene. Easier schedule for the rest of this week.”

“That’s good,” you respond. The art trailer, empty in these early morning hours, is coming into sight now. “Maybe you can stop throwing yourself off moving vehicles for awhile.”

Colt smirks. “Yeah, that’s the plan. Unless something crazy happens on my way to the gas station or something.”

“Oh, sure. You never know with a Citgo.”

The two of you share a laugh, and suddenly everything feels back to normal. Maybe it can never be completely normal again, but after the fears that kept Colt awake all night, this feels like he’s just stepped into paradise after being cast out.

“Hey, bad guys come in all shapes and sizes,” Colt informs you, feeling his sense of humor coming back full force. “Sometimes it’s a hard-boiled gangster chasing you on top of a transfer truck; sometimes it’s a plastic bag flying off the pavement and around your head.”

“Maybe that’s the real reason why recycling is so important,” you quip. A few more steps, and the two of you are standing at the door to the art trailer, the pink rays of sunrise beginning to touch the tops of your heads. “Well, here’s my stop. Thanks again for talking with me. It really means a lot.”

Colt nods, a genuine smile crossing his face. “I couldn’t let things be strained between us. Who would patch together the props I destroy in every take?” he teases you.

“Who would destroy the handmade props I painstakingly create every day?”

“Publicity stunts wouldn’t have been the same without you to critique my color coordinating choices.”

“I was really going to miss you sneaking me a packet of Mini Muffins every morning.”

“Consider the Mini Muffins sneaked.”

You grin at that, and Colt’s heart speeds up a few beats just at the sight. He’s glad to have this image — your captivating smile, framed by the pastel light of the sunrise, happiness sparkling in your eyes — to replace the one from last night.

You don’t say a word before turning to open the door to the art trailer, clearly needing some space, so Colt turns to walk away, but the door doesn’t close behind you. When he turns back to face you, you’re lingering in the doorway, an unreadable expression on your face. Colt hesitates, not sure what you expect from him, but he’s cut off by you closing the distance between the two of you and wrapping your arms around his neck.

What what what what what what WHAT WHAT WHAT—

Colt isn’t sure this is the best idea, but he certainly isn’t going to make the mistake of pushing you away again. Instead, he lets his arms fold around your waist, pulling you close against him. Every muscle in his body aches to hold you as tight as he can, and it takes all his self-control not to lift his head up a few inches, to whisper in your ear, You’re every sweet dream I’ve ever had. You’re everything I hoped love would turn out to be.

You don’t make a move to release him, and suddenly Colt realizes: this is your way of letting go of him. You’re taking one last moment to savor this closeness before you resign yourself to a simple friendship and an inevitable goodbye. With that realization, Colt grips you tighter, lets his face rest in the crook of your neck while he breathes you in.

The sun keeps rising, and still you hold onto each other as if this is the last time you’ll ever see each other.

Colt feels your arms loosen their hold around his neck slightly, and he takes that as a cue to release the death-grip he has around your waist. He didn’t realize he could feel your pounding heart against his chest until you’ve pulled back a few inches.

He’s surprised, though, when you don’t get go of him completely. You let your hands rest on his broad shoulders, your eyes searching his own for some answer that you can’t quite grasp. It’s as if you know he’s holding something back — as if you can tell how deeply he feels for you just by the way he stays absorbed in the warmth of your gaze.

A sad smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and you lift one hand to rest on the side of Colt’s face. His heart instantly starts rocketing again, and all he can imagine is that you’re finally going to go for the kiss that has almost happened three times now. He holds his breath, knowing that he can’t trust himself not to seize you and kiss you with all the passion he’s holding inside.

Your fingertips trace the side of his face slowly, intimately, traveling over his cheekbone, down his jaw, right under his lips. His skin feels like it’s burning from the inside, incinerating him with heat. He knows he’s still holding your waist too tight for someone who is “just a friend,” but holding you is the only thing keeping him sane right now.

Your gaze slips down for a fraction of a second, landing on the spot where your fingers are resting tenderly. Colt’s hands are shaking from the tension. All he can think of is how close your lips are to his, how effortless it would be to lean forward a few inches and live out the daydream he’s had a thousand times before. He doesn’t even blink, unwilling to miss a second of being this close to you again.

Finally, finally, you take mercy on him and lift your fingers from his face, your own expression betraying the level of affection you feel. Right now, all Colt wants to do is close his eyes and let you trail your fingers over his face for the rest of his life, but your touch is already gone, and he finally feels like he can breathe again.

You take an unhurried step back, your eyes never leaving his. Your hands slowly slide down from his shoulders, his letting go of your waist at the same time. The distance between you suddenly feels miles wide, and it’s quite obvious that both of you want to close it again.

But neither of you does.

“Okay,” you murmur, eyes drifting across his face. The early morning sunlight is dancing through the strands of your hair, alighting on the dust particles in the air to create a mystical glow around your face. “I should go.”

Colt barely even registers his own response, still so dazed from the past few moments. “Me, too.”

You take a step inside the art trailer door, eyes hazy. “See you later?”

“Of course.”

You give him one last soft smile and walk into the art trailer. But Colt stands in the light of the rising sun for a long time after you’ve gone.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 5

#i think i need a minute to recover after writing this #every chapter i think “well that's as good as it gets”#but i keep thinking of new stuff :O #fanfiction #colt seavers x reader #colt seavers fanfiction #original #colt seavers #the fall guy #ryan gosling #ryan gosling fanfiction #the five times colt seavers almost kisses you (and the one time he does)

188 notes · View notes

piratefishmama · 1 year

Text

Finders Givers | Prompted by @aellafreya

Curiosity.

Some may call it a dangerous thing. Some may argue for its ability to lead you to the truth of things. Some may claim it leads you to temptation, to regret, to suffering.

Steve Harrington, was curious.

He’d found the source of his curiosity while visiting a bar he’d planned on purchasing. It wasn’t a huge establishment. Or a well known one. Not exactly big bucks in the making but it was sat in a prime location atop a cellar that led to miles of underground tunnels which frankly.

He wanted.

He wanted them and not for legal reasons either. The tunnels weren’t on any official city map, predating them, Robin and Nancy, his right hand, and his researcher, found them by pure chance while on a fun little jaunt through the local libraries.

Fun being a stretch for Robin, but she needed to hang out with another woman her own age. And so did Nancy.

But he wanted those tunnels, they stretched all over the damn city, with just a little bit of work they could pop up anywhere, perfect for many a less than legal activity.

So many by-chance happenings had led him to that ratty little bi-fold leather wallet. Wasn’t even quality leather either. It looked old too, black with an embossed devil head pattern that probably came from some truck stop somewhere.

He could have just handed it in to the owner he was trying to buy out, could have even thrown it away, but curiosity was a devil sometimes. So there he was, sat down at one of the many tables in that little bar while one of his people did the majority of his work for him (honestly what’s the point of having people if they cant do your work for you?) perusing the contents and feeling more and more depressed by the second.

First, there was a wad of coupons and a single quarter in there instead of bills, which was never a good sign.

Second, a single, solitary, sad, badly rolled little joint.

Third. A single bank card with Mr E J Munson on it. Not even a credit card, just. A debit. Which statistically didn’t mean great things about this person’s credit score. Could just mean the owner was trying to avoid debt, but… doubtful.

Fourth, a stick of gum.

Fifth, a guitar pick.

Sixth, a library card, oof couldn’t even afford to buy the books.

An expired driver’s license desperately in need of renewal registered to Edward Joseph Munson, the photo made him look like he’d just gotten out of jail or some shit, his hair a terrible buzzcut and eyes too big, too dark, and too haunted to be anything else, but then that was just sometimes how those photos turned out. He could have been a totally innocent man!

It had his address on it, a few descriptors, height half an inch shorter than Steve himself, brown hair, brown eyes, male, 140lbs at point of issue (he’d been seventeen), date of issue, issuing State, along with a date of birth, clocking him at a year older than Steve, twenty nine, and… that he was apparently a donor.

And finally, a month old pay stub from a local fast food joint. So minimum wage worker at best.

It was… kind of sad really. Steve actually looked up the address on his phone, just for curiosities sake, because he was already in deep enough to look through a guy’s wallet, might as well google the poor saps address, just in case he felt charitable enough to drop it off on the way back to the high rise.

Oh there was that deep sadness some people might yell ‘I told you so’ about.

It wasn’t bad. But it sure as shit wasn’t good either. Steve knew of at least six bottom dweller drug dealers that operated out of that block, which explained the joint.

And also made him sadder about the joint, the weed probably wasn’t even all that good.

“Hey Robbie?” His long time friend and platonic soulmate turned her bored gaze over to him, she’d been playing angry birds on her phone, he could hear the war cries of those birds every time she launched one. “We done any charity this quarter?”

“Mmmmmnmnnnnoooooo?” It always looked good to the public for a rich guy like him to do charity work. Wouldn’t look too deeply into him if he was seen publicly doing good. “Unless you count telling Dustin to go wild in that nerd shop last week as ‘charity’, your child nearly emptied the damn shop.”

“Nah that was his birthday present, can’t call that charity.” He wasn’t going to reiterate that Dustin wasn’t his child. He was basically mom at that point.

“Alright, so what’re you thinking?” She sat up, turning to face him properly, putting her phone screen down on the table “Sponsoring something? A drive? There’s this cute little animal shelter in Japan called HEART I read about last month, ran by just a woman and her husband working with volunteers, could be a good thing to donate to? Helping animals is always good for PR.”

“…Those sound way better than what I was thinking, this guy’s wallet is bumming me out.” The expression on her face could have probably put grumpy cat to shame. “Pick one of your choices and do something with it, whichever you want. Imma do something about this wallet.” It didn’t have to be a big PR stunt, the fact that he was doing it on the DL as well? It always came back around all sunshine and roses because people believed it was totally selfless.

Didn’t do it for PR, couldn’t be doing it for PR, he hadn’t announced it.

It was always for PR. Always. The reaction just took a little longer to circulate and people were suckers.

“Just give it back to him? That should be charity enough. It’s like nine bucks to replace a driver’s license, you’re saving him nine bucks. Charity.”

“For someone who started out poor, you’re awful, Robin Buckley. Deal with this bar thing for me would you? I’m going to go on an adventure.” Curiosity was a powerful thing!

“Alright but if you come home with another stray I’m suing!”

“That was—”

“Seven times Steve! Seven!!” It wasn’t his fault that he struggled to see teenagers down on their luck. And four of them were two sets of siblings so it technically counted as one time per set, and one came with Nancy so—!

“Fine!” –So, he wouldn’t argue.

Empires weren’t built with throw away people who held no loyalty to you although he did have many of those on staff. Empires like his were built on the foundation of family, and while the one he’d grown up with was a little bit lacklustre, the one he’d built was perfect.

So he wouldn’t argue, he knew she loved them just as much as he did, in her own way, and that any additions would be welcomed with open arms.

—

Steve didn’t take the car. Although he probably should have, he knew at least three of his people would be following him, keeping an eye on him for safety reasons. At a distance of course but they’d be tailing him for the sake of safety.

That neighbourhood wasn’t safe. No matter if he had a weapon on him or not, it wasn’t safe for people like him.

People with visible wealth.

The watch on his wrist alone was probably worth more than some of the buildings in that neighbourhood, and it wasn’t exactly early in the day either. The sun setting made for an excellent ‘rich person in the wrong goddamn neighbourhood’ future police report.

But he made it to his destination unscathed.

The fast food joint from that pay stub. He even double checked the address on it. The chances of this Edward Munson being there were low, but that was fine, he just wanted to check it out. The atmosphere in there, the management styles, he’d hang out in the corner, get a cheap coffee and people watch for a while. See how fun Edward's work life was so he could add it to his decision making tree.

Curiosity really was one depressing little bitch baby.

The manager on staff was loud. Rude. Sexist. And he was pretty sure he’d made one of the staff cry because she’d hurried out very quickly rubbing at her face and sniffling. The temptation to put out a hit on him? High. But no, that was a lot for one asshole… maybe he’d just send Jane out, let the kid take his knees out.

She deserved a little bastard ba—

Someone beat him to it. A commotion later started by someone with a lot of hair, hair that’d been put up in a net and half hidden beneath the uniform’s god awful mustard yellow cap. It’d been two hits, the guy hitting him, and the manager hitting the floor, blood pouring from a very broken nose, spectacular.

The rest of the staff looked on in wide eyed horror, one yelping “Eddie, holy shit!” as the man pulled his cap off to reveal all that hair. “You’re so fired!”

“Didn’t need this shit show anyway! Chris an I quit, peace out assholes!!” Eddie. Eddie. Steve rose to his feet. Godawful coffee forgotten in the face of the mystery Edward, who caught his eye once before continuing on his way, all big brown frankly beautiful Bambi eyes, less haunted but still so big, full, kissable lips, and god, so much hair, going in the same direction as the blonde who’d disappeared to probably go and cry.

Eddie did need that job. He really needed that job. Steve had seen the state of his wallet. He needed that job, or at least he needed the paycheque that came from that job. Couldn’t even afford to buy his own books! He rented them, he rented books.

Jesus.

God, Robin was gonna judge him so bad for the person he was about to become.

Part 2

#PirateWrites #FindersGiversFiclet #Steddie #Mob Boss Steve Harrington #No Upside Down AU #Shady!Steve #CW: Stalker Vibes #nothing nefarious it's all lighthearted non-threatening stuff #Sugar Baby Eddie who never agreed to be a sugar baby but isn’t complaining.

683 notes · View notes

goldenhickeysandramen · 7 months

Text

Evolution of their narrative

I admit it. I also get confused as to what kind of couple Tae& Koo is supposed to be to their shippers.

When I first joined the fandom they were the “hidden couple”, and jikook was “fan service”, cause is what the masses demanded from BH/Bang PD.

It didn't take me long to realise that the "masses" in this fandom are actually the taek00kers (humaluvre is bigger than the majority of the most famous JK's focus accs) … So I've never really understood who the masses-asking-massively-for-"jikook"-content were 🤷‍♀️

Then, I read them that the big proof that taek00k was real was, precisely, that they couldn’t do all the things that jikook could do so well (you know, travel together only the two of them, stare at each other in rapt attention, sucking ears and necks, treat each other as a married couple, support each other to the fullest, holding hands whenever they have the opportunity…). The reason of them not doing all of these things was South Korea, since it is an homophobic country.

That’s why the company edited the content and didn't let them interact. It was all cuts and so on. Everything they did was private, and that's why there was no evidence, other than some witnesses of people with telescopic sight and facial recognition (maybe they were androids?)

I had more or less understood the narrative, until the LOVEGRAM era started, and that's when it all blew over!

Their insta accounts were no longer professional accounts (like twitter or weverse), but personal… and from then on, their selfies were some short of engagement pics or couple confirmation and their funny comments about boxing hooks were actually whipped messages of love.

Btw it seems South Korea was no longer homophobic at that time.

INSTAGRAM WAS THE LAW

When JK closed his Instagram account (forced by the company 😌) we were already in chapter 2. The lovegram didn't matter anymore…because Jungkook hanging out sometimes with Tae and wooga became the confirmation of what Instagram -in reality- failed to confirm. Never mind that their hanging out concentrated during some months when they both had more free time or that they actually just did what good friends do: having fun at the movies, bowling or skiing together with other friends… but hey, those tiny details don't matter in the great love story that is told.

And from there we move on to the part where the CHAOS really started, when the COMPANION SYSTEM news dropped

And guess what? Korea became homophobic again

Some said that they were forced to part ways (the company, the government, themselves because they wouldn't last a second without f?….). Gays dont enlist together they said.

Another line of argument was that Jimin had asked JK to enlist with him… I guess because he was going to be terrible at the military. LOL

But we all can sense that the most extended opinion was "I can't understand this plot twist for shit".

(Maybe the problem is they never understood their favs but that’s for another post)

And in the midst of CHAOS it was no longer possible to think of a new narrative...that's why the strategy became "attack". If they can't prove that their favourites are a couple, they'll go and debunk the rest.

At this point they don’t seem to care if ta3k00k is real or not… they simply choose not to surrender and ignore some facts. If they freaking ignored Jennie during a year, they will do the same with jikook being glued for 18 months.

So in the next months, we'll probably see part of fandom (solos and tkkers) attacking jikookers, and another part trying to ignore us. I fear the chaos will continue… pretty sure some toxic ones will watch the travel show just to diss jikook..

But we shouldn’t care too much because as we have seen, Jimin and Jungkook will never stop taking their decisions and behaving with authenticity

The boys have chosen their own path this year, not to please the majority of their fandom (jikookers are not the mass), but because they wanted to.

At the end of the day, they care about their fans, but we don’t own their lifes and they have shown us. And I applaud 👏 them

And yes, maybe their country and the careers they have chosen dont allow them to be fully free…. but they dont prevent them to stay one next to the other. They know how to choose the battles worth fighting for.

Don't you think it's beautiful and says a lot about the quality of love and respect that Jimin and Jungkook have for each other?

I think so

"standing in the fire next to you"

💜💛

#kookmin #jikook #jikook kookmin #mingguk #jimin and jungkook #jikook kookmin jinkook jiminshiii jk #minkook #mingukkie

171 notes · View notes

maxwell-grant · 6 months

Note

Thoughts on the master of fear, Scarecrow? Also, fave design, he has so many good ones (second BTAS, his trading card one, mistress of fear, Gaslight,, fear for sale, the Arkham Games etc)?

Hey so, do any of you remember Batman Live? It was this really fun, extravagant stage show that touched on a lot of Batman hallmarks and was generally a really fun time as far as I recall. I went to the São Paulo premiere with my family, and I was a little too young to really recall most of it now, but some things I definitely remember like the huge Joker hot air balloon made of performers in bodypaint, or the comedy sequences in the Iceberg Lounge. The one thing that stuck with me the most was when the Scarecrow showed up. Batman goes to Arkham Asylum and the entire comedy camp tone drops dead, as he walks in and finds all these bodies in straightjackets hanging from chains, and the doors open as The Scarecrow walks towards him in stilts, summoning loud smoke eruptions that are poisoning and weakening Batman as he leers over him. That part actually did scare me as a kid, and it was probably the first time I had any kind of feelings on Scarecrow imprinted in me.

I was introduced to The Scarecrow as this uniquely horrifying villain who could terrify through presentation alone. I didn't particularly understand what the fear gas was, I was too taken with that ungainly thing up there with the stilts and all those people turned into cadaverous decorations, lurking from the endless halls of the asylum, who towered over everyone and placed Batman into a writhing breakdown with a few gestures, and never appeared again until the cast roll, completely absent from the rogues gatherings after. Granted, of course that's because the stilts prevented him from joining the fight scenes, but that helped to reinforce his mystery. He wasn't someone Batman was going to punch back, no no, the Scarecrow simply vanished as soon as he was done with disarming Batman, and you'd just have to pray for that unfathomable creep to never show up again.

And I'd say this might be part of why I've never been too big on the fear gas, in part because I was first enraptured by a version of The Scarecrow who clearly didn't need it that much, or at least, could do much more besides it. The Scarecrow is, I'd say actually one of my top 10 DC characters, half of that on the basis of his designs, but he's a character who tends to really, really struggle under a lack of cohesion and being subordinate to his gimmick, much more so than the other rogues. The fear gas is a good gimmick, but it is just that, a gimmick, and one that's usually reliant on how far can the story push the horror and the visuals to at least make it effectively scary for us, otherwise it gets incredibly boring very fast, and it's not even a gimmick exclusive to him since so many other characters have similar mind control/illusion abilities/gadgetry at hand (and to say nothing of Hugo Strange, who first used fear gas and who quite frankly kicks the Scarecrow's ass in terms of quality storylines, although Hugo does that to most of the other Batman villains too)

The Scarecrow has become the go-to character for hallucination sequences / revisiting character traumas, which frequently makes him less of a character and more so a convenient plot device, a problem heightened by the larger issue here that is his inconsistent motivation, or lack thereof. He lacks the kind of "breakout" stories that his fellow major Batman villains have had that usually cement an ongoing characterization, and his most famous/celebrated appearences in mass media don't really do much to combat the assertion that he is shallow and weak and whose only asset is the gas (namely, his boss fights in Arkham Asylum, which are all about the fear gas hallucination scares, and his role in Nolan's Batman, which is very fun, but also purposefully plays him up for ridicule and lack of depth next to the other villains)

These days, the Scarecrow is a tedious pip-squeak. His schemes lack verve, his cruelties stir little in the way of frissons. Haunted by cliché to an even greater extent than the other rogues, he’s often brought low with a single sock to the jaw delivered by Batman, or by finding himself on the receiving end of his own fear-inducing concoctions. He often acts as a pawn in the hands of bigger, badder third parties. He’s ostensibly a stand-in for the figure of the reductive, smug and hypocritical psychologist, nicely bundled up for the audience to humiliate in effigy - TheMindlessOnes's rogue review for Scarecrow

In "Nothing to Fear" it is explained that Jonathan Crane has always had this "thing" for scaring people. (Just as Snidely Whiplash had his "thing" for tying women to railroad tracks, I suppose.) But this is a wan kind of motive. One senses sadly that the real motive for the Scarecrow's behavior lies in the writer's need for someone to do something reprehensible. At the root of the matter may be a difficulty in sorting out the Scarecrow's ends from his means, with a consequent confusion between the goals the Scarecrow intends to reach and the tactics he employs in reaching them.

As a psychologist specializing in phobic disorders, Crane knows how to induce fear and trembling in his victims. But this tells us nothing about what the Scarecrow wants to accomplish. And without a sense or statement of what those goals are, the writer will be tempted to substitute means for end and make the Scarecrow's goal simply the scaring of people. Usually his actions are woefully underexplained - Dreams in Darkness' review by Toonzone

You might think that I'd be advocating for the Scarecrow, then, to disregard a need for a motivation and become as unknowable and horrific as possible, to recapture the awe I felt at his Batman Live self, but no, not at all. For one, I don't think the best version of anything is necessarily the one that made the most impact on me as a kid. Two, there have been some attempts over the years to remove Scarecrow from the toxin or seriously amp him up as a threat, and frankly, most of those have only made the character dramatically worse and more boring (I don't remember the name, but there was a Batman story a while ago where he goes on a big scary killing spree with no toxin just to prove he can and it was fucking terrible). Three, and the big one here, is that this pretty much forces you to get rid of Dr. Jonathan Crane, and I think that does a disservice to the character's potential. I think that's giving up on trying to make him work as a character and I don't think you have to do that.

My preferred characterization for Crane is one that emphasizes his nature as a scholar turned supervillain. The cold and misanthropic and neurotic nerd professor who spent most of his salary on books and took to terrorizing the city as a costumed criminal in part because he wanted money to buy more books. Who takes off the costume mid-crime spree to school his henchmen on specifics of brain chemistry, who gets revenge on those that wrong his students or even employs them as henchmen, still the same guy who thinks there's nothing wrong with firing a loaded gun in a packed classroom as a demonstration. Far less interested in human connections than he is in human reactions, things that can surprise him or that he can catalogue or research or write about. Someone who's not a sadist for sadism's sake, but who doesn't really see you as a person so much as he sees a test subject. I like Crane as a snarky humorous heel who thinks of himself as amoral and mature while doing horribly immoral and childish things, the Herbert West or Rusty Venture of Batman villains (James Urbaniak is definitely the voice I'd pick for him).

My preferred kind of motivation for him is something along the lines of how he's portrayed in most of Kings of Fear, where he puts Batman through the wringer in part as an attempt to get to him and cure him once and for all, or issues #4-5 of The Batman Adventures where he induces city-wide illiteracy in part as a protest against the city's failing education. In Gothtopia he makes all of Gotham hallucinate their perfect ideal lives, eliminating the crime rate but causing the suicide rate to spike up in return, and yes it does turn out to be the set-up for a really generic "fear gas everyone with blimps and make everyone twice as scared" pay off when his involvement is revealed, but I always thought Scarecrow being able and willing to do that, to create these huge and even benevolent-seeming social experiments, as an idea with legs. Fear State was frustratingly halfway there, with the initial set-up of Scarecrow pursuing a theory for fear-based social upheaval, but on top of not being very good, it also wound up that he was just doing the same old thing again and had Batman call him out as someone who just wanted to gas the city and make everyone scared again and never changes and does anything different, which seemed like Tynion defeating his own purpose of trying to make a defining Scarecrow story and address his lack of one, completely failing to address the why the character has that kind of problem and upending itself for meta commentary before doing anything interesting.

Even Kings of Fear, easily the best Scarecrow story of the past decades if not outright ever, kinda ends in a bit of a cop-out where The Scarecrow has to be wrong ("Even when he's telling the truth, he's lying, and even when he's right, he's wrong", Gordon tells Batman to reassure him, to nullify the past 5 issues criticizing and tearing into Batman from every angle imaginable), and he has to be a sadist who just wanted to fuck with Batman and uncover his worst fears because it's what he does. Why does Scarecrow want to unravel people and wrench their worst fears into the surface? Because he's a sadist who gets off on it? I guess that's the canon answer most of the time, but it's such a boring, weak one. Because he wants revenge on the world / bullies? Still weak, done better by other villains even. Because of an unspeakably traumatic childhood that taught him the world was ruled by fear and therefore driving him to become it's master? Okay, but it still doesn't actually answer what he wants to get out of doing what he does.

We know that Jonathan Crane was a fragile youth routinely terrorized and abused by others and plainly traumatized by his experiences. We know that he is learned and brilliant and given to introspection and fantasy.

From this base it is not hard to imagine Crane turning into a man fiercely devoted to solitude and study and capable of a murderous rage when his privacy is violated. It is possible, in other words, to imagine him as a reactive force, in the mold of Freeze, systematically terrorizing and destroying anyone who crosses him but rarely wanting to start trouble himself.

Or we can imagine him as a mercenary, a specialist hired by others for nefarious purposes, but who is not himself strongly motivated by particular rages or desires.

But if the Scarecrow is going to remain a sadist and a sadist only—if he is going to be moved only by the psychotic desire to harm others—we ought to be made to feel the seductive power that sadism has over its practitioners; we should be made to feel and appreciate the hot and sour joy that comes from the purposeful humiliation of another - Dreams in Darkness review by Toonzone

It's kind of a frustrating pattern in a lot of his stories where he gives a reason for doing something, and it turns out to be a cover for yet another sadistic fear gas attack, but his cover reason was a more interesting motivation for him than what he actually was going for. A villain who mainly just gets a kick out of hurting people and concocts bullshit excuses and reasons to justify said hurting? The Joker does that already, but the Joker always clearly states what he wants and has all those ways to make cruelty for cruelty's sake entertaining. If that's all The Scarecrow is also, no wonder he's going to be so incredibly lacking most of the time (nevermind the fact that he's never going to be the guy most infamous for gassing Gotham City).

Yes, he may be sadistic and cruel, he may enjoy what he does too much, and maybe there really isn't any kind of realistic explanation as to why a man would dress up as a scarecrow to commit terrorism and spray innocent people with chemicals to make them terrified, but refer to the guy he's fighting. "Realistic" is the wrong term. The issue here is less "why" the Scarecrow does what he does, and more what is he hoping to get out of it. Granted, this is less of a concern if you're playing The Scarecrow as a figure of horror, someone who's not even really human underneath that outfit. But I think that locks away much of his versatility. The Scarecrow needs Jonathan Crane, and I think there's good stuff to like about that awful man.

I like Jonathan Crane the sardonic pragmatic scientist who still embraces his hopelessly ridiculous life, a guy who's not nearly as above it all as he'd like to be and has wants and needs moreso than he really likes to admit. I like him as a book lover, as a fan of horror, I like him as the kind of guy who'd send fan mail to Elvira and break out of Arkham just to catch a Halloween parade and guest star in a Scooby-Doo movie for a change. I like him as someone who'd have a decent working relationship with the other rogues and pal with the Legion of Doom and get into a physical spat with Riddler over a chess game. Someone who custom-makes his own outfits and equipment, who makes scythes out of animal bones to fight Batman with, who picked the scarecrow motif in part because it was a term of derision his colleagues used on him.

Who pours himself over his research as he records his theories in a tape recorder, the kind of guy who grouses at having to clean another cell because he's getting annoyed at his test subjects killing themselves, seriously guys the cleaning supplies for this batch were as fresh as they could be, and the iguana amygdalas I used should be stopping your neocortexes from overreacting this strongly. Subject #3 over there got over his fear of centipedes yesterday and he hasn't screamed all morning, I'm gonna need the rest of you to stop being such babies, okay?

It must be terribly liberating for Crane, to transcend mere ugliness and become inhuman. Of all the rogues, he’s easily the one who takes Batman’s “I need a disguise; I shall become a beast of the night” schtick and runs with it the farthest - TheMindlessOnes's rogue review for Scarecrow

And that's for Jonathan Crane, man of science. The Scarecrow, however, is not science, he is unreason incarnate, and to me what most makes The Scarecrow work as a Batman villain has nothing to do with "they both use fear as a weapon", I always thought that was a bit shallow of an angle to pursue (most, if not all, the villains rely on fear, it comes with the whole "crime" thing). The two have a stronger connection via the costume, the theatricality, the becoming a creature of the night angle. None of the other major Batman villains are going into their costumes the way The Scarecrow is. They have their personas and varying degrees of division between them and their "real selves", but few of them are wearing outright identity-separating Halloween Monster Costumes with separate names and personalities they can dip in and out of at their convenience.

And I'm gonna interrupt myself to answer your second question. I couldn't pick just one design, so counting the Batman Live one above, I picked 10. These are not in order and they're not necessarily how I'd design him, I'd say my actual favorite Scarecrow designs are fan-made, but if I was going to pick out of "official" material these are the ones I'd go for. It's time for:

(Left-to-right: George Pratt's Scarecrow pin-up, Phil Jimenez's Scarecrow design, Ed Natividad's concept art for Suicide Squad)

(Left-to-right: His TNBA design by Bruce Timm as drawn by Luciano Vecchio, Alex Ross's design for Justice, and Tim Sale's Scarecrow)

(Left-to-right: Kelley Jones' design for Kings of Fear, Jeremy Raapack's design for Legends of the Dark Knight #25, Scarecrow's design in Happy Halloween, Scooby-Doo!)

*cough*, anyway: Most of the other rogues with their signature suits or masks or body distortions don't tend to have closets full of different variant Batsuits and scarecrow costumes to choose and devote to their cause and ideal, that they sit at night tailoring on how to make scarier or more loaded with weapons, that they might even have conversations with, things that sit in their closets waiting because both of these brilliant men, men who have (or at least had) different civilian lives, men who could stop doing this at any time, who both decided that becoming a Halloween monster prowling the streets to inflict terror is a necessary, even productive use of their time.

And I think that's the key word I want to end here, productive. I think The Scarecrow needs to be more productive. Because even if he's not aware of it, he is achieving progress via his research, and there is one way he's proved his ideas: Batman walks out of every fight they have stronger. Every encounter they have is a test that Batman resists and walks out of more able to cope with his own traumas, or at least, better able to resist them being weaponized against him. I always wanted to explore the idea that Crane is genuinely convinced he's doing people a favor or at least achieving something via all these horrible Scarecrow campaigns, and one thing he has achieved is that Batman is never not prepared for chemical attacks or assaults on his mind, Batman resists ungodly trials of willpower and determination and courage, in part because he has to deal with the Scarecrow pumping terror juice in his brain semi-regularly.

The fact that Crane loses and gets beaten up and has to retry schemes again and again and kill people and join the costume parade just to lure Batman is fairly inconsequential to him, so long as it gets results. He's not interested in dissecting Batman's brain or being more like Batman, that's Hugo Strange's thing. Hugo Strange needs Batman to be fearless, allmighty and perfect, where as Jonathan Crane wants nothing more than to unearth and study the fears and kinks in the armor, the dead last thing he wants is a perfect man. Hugo Strange wants to crawl naked into the mask of the great and terrible fascist and never come out, where as The Scarecrow wants to crack open all the masks in the world and feast luridly on whatever seeps out.

Batman isn't just the ultimate trial against his fear-ruled worldview (or even affirmation), and he isn't just a breakthrough waiting to happen: he might be his greatest success as of yet. A case study on the success of exposure therapy, proof of potential medicinal applications for his formula, the greatest guinea pig of all time because he won't die no matter what you pump into him, you name it. So what if all those other people couldn't stomach the procedure, so what if those precious innocents are too weak and stupid and useless to not get in the way of research, it's clearly worked wonders for those who could take it.

And if the future belongs to men like Batman, if all of these superheroes and supervillains are the way things are going to be like forever, if the future is Bat-shaped and as vast and uncertain and horrible as the forces shaping it, the future needs to be prepared. The future needs to grapple with it's past and face it's greatest horrors and become stronger for it. There is no such thing as overcoming fear, there is only living with it, embracing it, bowing to the primordial instinct that knows the answer before you do. Mankind grew and developed it's intelligence and tools out of fear, fear of the bigger predators out there, fear of the other cavemen, fear of starvation and death and everything they couldn't understand and master until they learned to fear it. What better knowledge to pass along than fear? And who is better qualified to teach about fear?

Maybe Crane isn't just another monster with a grudge, maybe he isn't another costumed revenge killer, maybe he isn't just a power-tripping sadist bully out to torment others because he can, and maybe he isn't a hopeless traumatized madman who destroyed his professional and personal life in a monstrous quest to satisfy an obsession ruling his soul.

Maybe he is a sane response to an insane situation. Ever heard that one before?

#replies tag #superheroes #batman #dc comics #scarecrow #the scarecrow #jonathan crane #gotham city

87 notes · View notes

imabeautifulbutterfly · 6 months

Text

Star Wars Fic Roulette

@dragonrider9905 hey love, so I finished the second request. So this is 29 and 48. I hope you like it.

It turned out more fun than expected.

Love oo,

Get Away

Warning: Betrayal, infidelity, hurt, looking for a fresh start, fluff, angst, gossip, fed up with being gossiped about, I think that's it. If I miss any please let me know

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

You sat in the cafeteria of Kamino nursing your caf. You really didn’t want to see anyone today, much less do any kind of work. How were you supposed to work, when the man you were supposed to marry just told you, he was in love with someone else. You understood, after all you had been on Kamino for the past seven months working on getting your medical licence. What shocked you however, was when he told you the person he was leaving you for, was none other than your best friend.

Oh and he also felt it was relevant for you to know they had actually been sleeping together for the past year. So, not only did you lose a best friend, a fiance, but you were being cheated on, while you were with them. While the three of you would hang out. Go to the holovid cinemas, shopping, having lunch or dinner; all the while they were putting on fake smiles, they were betraying you behind your back.

Word spread around Kamino faster than a gundark looking for its next meal, before you knew it you were being referred to as that medic. The medic with the broken heart, the medic with the cheating fiance, the medic who suffered betrayal from your closest and best friend. How they found out about who your fiance cheated with was beyond you. What you needed however was to get away, to do some real work, be transferred to the front lines.

So you sat in your supervisor’s office, pleading to be transferred to a Commando unit or a unit that needed a medic.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. You’re emotional, and you could foul up in the field.” Your supervisor who never even cared for a second reiterated for the third time.

“Excuse me, but you’ve never cared about me, so why now?”

“Listen, it’s not that I don’t care, it’s that I have to be fair.”

“So having me sit day after day as my personal life is being gossiped about and talked about is fine and dandy to you! Why aren’t you concerned that my emotional state right now isn’t affecting my performance! If anything, getting away from the gossip will ease my mind and heart.” You put all your effort into this speech, you just needed a break.

She let out a sigh as she eyed you carefully, “Alright. I do know of a unit that could - - somewhat, need a medic. However…” she raised her finger to make a point, “if you foul up, if I get one negative report from the Sergeant in charge, and you’ll be right back here. Understood?”

“Yes. Thank you.” You held your hands together thanking her and the force for actually giving you a break.

“Alright, I’ll contact the sergeant and send you your orders. They’ll be leaving soon for their mission. I suggest you get your bag ready, and be prepared. They won’t be coming back to Kamino for at least several rotations.”

“How many?”

“Last time it was nearly six months.”

You nodded understanding this wasn’t going to be an easy assignment, you headed to your quarters, packing what you deemed were essentials. It was about three hours later when a knock came at your door.

You didn’t hesitate to open the door, surprised however to see a clone that had rather long hair and a red bandana tied around his forehead.

“Can I help you?”

“Sergeant Hunter, Clone Force 99. I understand you’re our new medic.”

You blinked a few times, at his smooth voice. Most clones had a soft and determined tone to their voice, a commanding tone. However, his tone was warm and welcoming.

“Uh… sorry,” you apologized from spacing out, “Yes. I am. Well at least, I think I am. I haven’t received my orders yet.”

“Nope, because they’re here.” He passed you the datapad, “I understand you requested this assignment.”

You looked at the orders, assigning you to Clone Force 99 aka Bad Batch for the foreseeable future until your services were no longer required, you died, or they found someone better. You shook your head at the order and tossed the datapad on to your bed.

“Well guess, I’m with you guys. Nice to meet your sergeant.” You stuck out your hand to shake his. He nodded, shaking your hand.

“May I ask why you requested it?” He pulled his hand away, he was glad he wore his gloves, he didn’t want you feeling how much his palm was sweating. He never experienced such fluttering feelings in his heart or stomach, just from meeting someone. Maybe he was coming down with something.

“You mean you haven’t heard gossip that’s all over Kamino?”

Hunter smirked, so you didn’t know why his brothers were special or why they were in a class of their own, “We … my brothers and I aren’t exactly popular with the Regs.”

“Regs?”

“The regular clone troopers.”

You furrowed your brow confused, as you pointed to him, “You’re not a regular clone trooper?”

A smile appeared on his lips as he shook his head, “No. Not at all. We can go into details about that later, what are you doing though?” His eyes focused on the three bags you had packed on your bag.

“Oh, well my supervisor said to pack since when we leave tomorrow, we might not be coming back for a while…” you looked over to your bed and realized how much overpacking you did. “Ah, I overdid it, didn’t I?”

“More than somewhat. The Marauder isn’t a big ship. There is a cargo hold, but that usually carries our weapons, explosives, food rations. We each only have three body suits which we rotate, wash and mend ourselves. You may be able to bring two of those cases, but not more than that. And I would say two is stretching it.”

You turned back to look at the cases, “Well one of them is actually food, spices, and snacks. The second one is medical stuff, gauzes, medicine, surgical stuff, scanners, etc., and the last one is just personal stuff.”

“Hmm” Hunter tilted his head to read what was written on your personal pack, “You’re the stars to my galaxy, without you there is no light. Is that a message from your family?”

Your eyes focused on the scrawl that was on your bag, and you laughed, “No. That … that was my youngest cousin who wanted to leave me a memento of herself. It’s a line from her favourite song.”

He couldn’t help but smile at that, he liked it. ‘You’re the stars to my galaxy, without you there is no light,’ it somehow held a special and deeper message for him, yet he wasn’t sure why.

“I like it.” He cleared his throat, focusing back on your bright and beautiful eyes. Somehow, that sentence made more sense as he looked into them, “Since it’s food and medical supplies. We’ll find room for it. Just don’t let Wrecker know about the food, it might dwindle faster than you anticipated.” He chuckled.

“Who’s Wrecker?” You asked a little confused.

“Oh you’ll meet them later today. Once you’re done here, join us in the cafeteria for a late dinner. We’ll be there at 1930 hours.”

You glanced at your watch and nodded, “1930 hours, I look forward to it, Sergeant.”

“Hunter”

“Hmmm?”

“No one calls me, Sergeant. Not unless they’re in trouble. Just call me Hunter.”

“Oh, okay. In that case, just call me by my name too.”

“Alright, mesh’la. I’ll do that. See you tonight.”

He waved and headed to his barracks, his cheeks blushing from the slip of calling you mesh’la, hopefully you didn’t realize it meant beautiful.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

99 notes · View notes

openphrase123 · 1 month

Note

hey hi hi i've read everything of curtain call (except, obviously, what hasn't been posted yet) and i HAVE to ask you to share your lost country/skywatcher language thoughts so i can devour them immediately please.

hiiiiiiii so like 90% of the language worldbuilding i did for curtain call was like. very simple sentences and words since i didn't want to make an entire conlang for this fanfiction. what i have written in-fic would fall apart in two seconds if i tried to expand it to any of the lines outside of what i wrote. HOWEVER i have a lot of thoughts about how it WOULD work if it had the capacity to expand outward

putting under a readmore both for curtain call spoilers and because this is going to get long and insufferable for anyone except ME

also if you're not reading curtain call. this is still a fun little analysis about how siffrin's native language influences their behavior. you might have fun with it wheeeee just know that the actual language i'm talking about is not canon. i made it up.

disclaimer: i speak a couple of languages but my knowledge of languages is VERY limited to what i know. so you're going to see a lot of instances of me calling back to japanese or other english dialects. other languages exist and also have these features but i'm just not gonna say anything if i'm not sure of what i'm saying. if you are interested in these concepts in a more academic setting i am NOT the place to find that

second disclaimer: in curtain call, the name for qilaksut comes from greenlandic/kalaalisut which is an endangered indigenous language. this is an open invitation to go learn who, historically, lived in and supported the land you're living on. consider supporting them whatever way you can.

number ONE. dude is it that serious??

nah.

again, i built this for like ten sentences out of a 100k+ fic. so like. there's some inconsistencies, there's some weird stuff. and i know i could have just written all of the curtain call qilaksut in english but italicized, there would have been nothing wrong with that. but i did not because i thought it would be a good exercise in character exploration

because the language you speak has some measure of how you act and carry yourself in the world. (sorry elizabeth if you're reading this. i'm not going full noam chomsky i swear i don't believe in linguistic determinism i'm using this as a literary device) and since siffrin is the only speaker of the forgotten language we see (loop never engages with that in-game as much) and i was a little bit like. okay. why is he like that. how much of that is siffrin and how much of that is the home they don't know

in odile's friendquest she remarks that she only finds similarity in herself within vaugarde because vaugarde is so welcoming to travelers. however odile never went to vaugarde until she was an adult - siffrin presumably lived on the island until he was a teenager, and your personality is fairly Formed by then (at least enough for people to put iterations on it in adulthood) so as much as i could have gone the route of "siffrin it's okay that you don't see yourself in your past" i thought for the themes of this fic it made more sense to go "oh THAT'S why siffrin is Like That"

so as you're reading through this: yes i'm worldbuilding language. but MOSTLY as a siffrin character study. okay! okay.

number TWO. situational meanings.

so ✦‧₊ is "you" and ✧‧₊ is "me/i". but "hello" is ❇✧ which - hang on, isn't that the word for universe and me? no, actually, there's no pronoun suffix (‧₊ denotes when a person is being talked about) so in this context ✧ means "inside". which means ✦ means "outside" in some contexts.

(but harrie, why does "hello" mean "inside universe"?? well i imagine it's the difference between older medieval greetings and the modern "hi". languages morph and drift. this kind of just suggests that without me having to write an Entire Language Family Background. probably a shortening of some corny shit like "within the universe i find you" or whatever. semantic drift.)

and part of the reason i did that was for unicode constraints - there are only unicode characters that look like stars. but the other half is because in japanese and i THINK also in chinese each character has a few different meanings. take 本, in japanese. it has a lot of meanings on its own but let's look at it in situational context. 本棚 is bookshelf. 本物 means real. 本土 is mainland.

so in qilaksut i think these kinds of multi-use words are common. ERGO. why siffrin has trouble thinking of very situational words in vaugardian. if your native language is built up of tangential mnemonic connections, of course you're going to have trouble remembering the word kiln!!

number THREE. reduplication and repetition

take the phrase "✦‧₊ »»⟢" from ch10. in my head, » means "fast" and doubling it gives you "really fast". this happens in AAVE (e.g. "he's RICH rich") and japanese (there is an entire kanji expressly used as a repetition mark so that you don't have to draw complicated kanji twice, it's 々(noma) and as an example, person is 人 but people is 人々)

reduplication is slightly different from this but i think it shows up for words like »», where you're not literally saying the word twice but the vowels double themselves. kind of in a trilling way. i actually say this in inutile and not curtain call but i think the Siffrin Accent wavers a lot and feels like a twinkling star. because i think it's cute

alsooo repetition. wish craft. do u see the vision

number FOUR. pronouns and clusivity

i don't get into the he/she/they or any other third person pronouns in the fic because. well i think the lost country would go so hard on pronouns. there are child pronouns. adult pronouns. pronouns denoting somebody's job or status. hell loop is SO casual about offering to use the "royal we" i genuinely think pronoun usage in the lost country is more tied to interpersonal relationships than gender. but of course that plays a role too

because i think there's a huge amount of gender concoction you could brew in there. i think it would be really fun if siffrin uses he/they because in qilaksut siffrin is mainly referred to as the neutral pronoun mashed together with the masculine one. i think that would be fun.

and then for funsies. clusivity. i definitely think there is a difference between "we" (me+one other person, excluding you) and "we" (me+others+you) in qilaksut. would be fun if this is why siffrin automatically assumes they're getting excluded from things. "where is the vaugardian inclusive we and why has nobody said it to me???"

number FIVE. structure

i don't have a lot of Full Sentences in qilaksut in the fic but in general it follows the pattern place - > noun - > adjective - > verb. and you might be going "harrie, you weeb, that's japanese again" well. i didn't want it to be like french or english. and that's the one i know. so. shut up!!!!

"well why can't it be the same syntax as vaugardian then?" i'm glad you asked. i wanted it to feed again more into the idea that siffrin is more susceptible to getting "lost" in a conversation. hard to focus when your normal syntax anchors are not there!!

but at the same time. i write siffrin as a polyglot in curtain call. they're pretty equipped to learn and absorb new languages. once you learn a second language, in general, your third/fourth/fifth gets easier

number SIX. things i can't do in the fic except for once or twice because of unicode restrictions

well i could do it ONCE. with two sentences that are coming up in tomorrow's chapter: but i think in qilaksut writing, changing the rotation/orientation of the word also changes the meaning. slight spoilers for tomorrow's chapter but siffrin has two ways of saying "love you" for two different people - for odile, it's ❥✦‧₊ and for isabeau it's ❤✦‧₊

this isn't for any particular reason, i just think it's neat in the context of how i do names and titles for the rest of the fic. getting called different names based on your relationship to somebody, using altered terms of endearment for someone. two extra rotations of the heart could exist in theory so one of them is probably "loving your kid" and the other issss i dunno. maybe a closer platonic love nearer to a qpr or something. or what you use for your parents/guardians or your betters. i didn't think that far!!

also word opposites. ✷ doesn't have another version with just the lines, but that means "yes" and i think a hollowed out version of that would mean "no." obviously the ✦/✧ shift goes here too. and i think the inverse of ✪ (little) would mean big. but i couldn't find those in unicode so they do not exist in this fic oops

if you made it this far into the post. hi. thank you for reading :) that was probably a lot more than you were asking for. i won't apologize. anyway this post doesn't even TOUCH how i do name stuff in the fic but that also feeds into this. (and the name stuff was something i took out of an old dnd campaign anyway) (of which i have a DIFFERENT altered version for my original fiction but shhhh)

#isat #thank you for asking :)#i'll always extrapolate on some bullshit i made up for a fic AKDJFLSADKJF #i think about this stuff Too Much

35 notes · View notes

pimosworld · 1 year

Text

The story of us chapter 5

Triple frontier boys x f!reader

Summary- Set before you and the boys are officially together and how you came to be.

Chapter summary- Frankie takes you flying and your relationship to new heights.

CW- 18+,MDNI, to avoid spoilers I will be posting a link for warnings. Link

WK-6k

Notes- See story Masterlist for full chapter notes. This chapter was so fun to write, my first time writing a solo Frankie. He starts off shy but quickly gains his confidence.

Not beta read

[Series Masterlist] [Main Masterlist]

Chapter V Flying without Falling

————————————

11:54 pm

Frankie can’t sleep as he lies awake staring at the ceiling fan. Every creak and noise the house makes has him on edge. He shouldn’t care this much but it’s starting to get under his skin and root itself deep somewhere he dare not explore. Before he can fully run away with his intrusive thoughts he hears the front door open and close. He breathes a sigh of relief knowing Benny actually came home after your date.

Maybe Santi was right,he shouldn’t be this jealous of his best friends going on a date. But jealousy doesn’t seem like the right word either, he wants to be included, he couldn’t possibly go on as a spectator if you decided to have a relationship. It’s entirely too late for all these thoughts and he’s getting way ahead of himself.

He would call you normally when his thoughts ran wild. Why would now be any different? The only difference now is that he knows you’ll pick up. Over the last several months that certainly wasn’t the case. Before he can second guess himself he picks up his phone and calls you.

****

You’re seated on your couch staring at the blank screen of the tv replaying the night in your head. You really should go wash your face and get some sleep but you can’t stop thinking about that kiss. You can’t stop thinking about everything he did for you. The feeling was so alien being treated as if you were a Disney princess. Ben was always sweet but this was a side of him you’ve never seen. You could definitely get used to it.

Incoming call Francisco

“Hey Frankie, is everything okay?” Your voice is laced with concern at this late hour he’s calling.

“Ugh…ya I’m sorry I called so late.” I just wanted to hear your voice. “I just needed to talk to you about something.”

“Okay.” At midnight? You wait patiently for his response.

“So how was your date?” Jesus Francisco you just couldn’t help yourself. He thinks you're silent for a little too long, maybe he can just hang up and pretend this never happened.

“It was really nice actually, but is that why you called?” You don’t want to give too many details, it just seems odd to talk about with him right now.

“No…I guess I should just spit it out. I got my license back and I start in a few days but I’m nervous.” He has to hold the phone away from his ear before he goes deaf at your excited squeal.

“Frankie, that's amazing, how come you didn’t tell us yesterday?” You can hear indistinct rustling on the other end.

“I didn’t think it was appropriate with everything going on…last night didn’t exactly scream tell everyone your good news.”

“That’s sweet of you but I would’ve genuinely been excited with all the drama that went on. Life doesn’t revolve around me and my shitty dating life.” It kind of pains you that he put off such a happy announcement to not take attention off you. You know how hard he’s been working to get his license back and this means everything to him. Losing his license was like stripping his identity from him.

“Listen hermosa, I know it’s last minute but I remember you saying you have tomorrow off…would you be willing to be my first passenger. I don’t want to be rusty in front of the clients on my first day.” He knows you know he’s full of shit. He is the most competent pilot and there’s no way he’s rusty. You’ve seen him in the deadliest situations somehow be cool, calm and collected.

“Of course Frankie, I would love to.” You’re certain he doesn’t need any practice but you decide to play along, it’s adorable when he’s nervous.

“Meet me at our house around noon and I’ll drive us to the site.”

“That sounds like a plan…you should get some sleep if you’re gonna be flying us safely tomorrow.” A little teasing goes a long way with him and you just can’t help yourself.

“Very funny, I’ll see you tomorrow Honey good night.”

“Goodnight Francisco.”

Sleep would not come easily for either of you that night.

****

Frankie’s not sure how much sleep he got last night, tossing and turning thinking about you. Trying not to think about how his life ended up the way it did. It was hard not to be in his head about his setbacks and inadequacies. He’s a grown man living with his two best friends. He should be able to afford a place on his own and be more independent, but he managed to fuck that up with this coke charge and losing his license.

He really needed to relax and not let his thoughts run away with him. It wouldn’t be any help today.

He rolls out of bed suddenly more aware of every ache and pain in his body, it’s hard to say when he noticed himself getting older. He’s been ready for some time to settle down but had all but given up on finding something worthwhile.

He pads down the hallway already hearing the clanking of dishes and the strong smell of coffee.

He enters the kitchen to see the two fit shirtless blondes, one more thing to be insecure about.

“Mornin’ Fish.” Will looks up at him from his seat at the table. Frankie gives him a half smile as he slides into the seat across from him.

“Rough night?” You could say that

“Ya, didn’t sleep much. I was up worried about today.”

“What’s happening today?” Benny joins at the table sliding a cup of coffee to him. He scrubs a hand behind his neck deciding what approach to take with the news.

“Well I’m flying today. I got my license back.” Will looks up from his phone wide eyed as Benny jumps up nearly knocking the table over.

“Holy shit man that’s amazing, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was afraid it might not happen so I wanted to wait…I found out Friday and ugh Saturday didn’t seem like the right time to mention it.” Ben and Will exchange glances, neither of them needing to say why.

“So you start today,what’s your schedule like?” Will stands from the table to refill his coffee.

“No…I start tomorrow. I’m taking Honey up today to practice.” Lies

“Bullshit.” Ben leans back in his chair crossing his arms as Will tries to contain his laughter. Frankie mimics Ben's posture as he stares him down.

“You and I both know you don’t need practice.I do have to admit though, a helicopter is a nice move.”

Frankie relaxes a little at the teasing Ben gives him. The younger man is obviously not bothered by it, he almost seems happy for him.

“We’ll Benjamin we can’t all have rock hard abs, some of us have to pull out other means of flattery.”

“Well Fish I’m happy for you and I hope you enjoy your date.” There’s no tone of sarcasm or anything to suggest that he’s lying.

Will stands there in awe and shock at the absurdity of it all. How could they possibly be this chill about dating the same woman let alone you?

“Speaking of dates, how was yours?” He raises an eyebrow at him playfully.

“I know you’ve been dying to ask. It was great, we saw a movie and went to the diner for burgers and shakes and then I dropped her off at home.” He’s not sure if he should include the last part. The conversations have been going well so far.

“What a modern day romance and you even had her home by curfew.” Ben flips him off as he stands from the table.

“I was gonna let you off easy but since you want to tease, I did get a good night kiss.” Will grabs his chest in fake shock.

“Good for you bud.” Frankie pays him on the shoulder as he stands. He can’t help but grin thinking about what he heard when you were in the shower. A sudden burst of confidence flows through his veins.

“As much as I’d love to watch this sad pissing contest, we need to get to the gym Ben.”

“Alright coach.” He pulls Frankie into a hug before heading down the hallway. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He calls out from over his shoulder.

Will just rolls his eyes as Frankie retreats back to his room on the opposite end of the house.

Maybe this could work out after all.

****

Here you are again, tossing clothes about your room undecided on what to wear. This is supposed to be a casual day with Frankie and you can’t seem to get your head on straight. Let’s not add to the fact that you can’t be late.

It’s a beautiful sunny day in Florida so you decide to throw on some jean shorts, your army tank top and some black slip on vans. There’s no time to overthink this as you run out to the door to head to their house. You left yourself enough time to stop and grab something for Frankie, you were technically celebrating getting his license back and you wanted to surprise him.

You pull up to the pristine suburban home they all share, you know Will had every attention to detail to keep the Miller family home in great condition. You have a slight panic when you see that Ben's truck is still in the driveway, you weren’t quite ready to confront what it is you were doing. To be honest you weren’t entirely sure if you knew yourself.

Frankie sees you pull up, he’s been pacing around the living room unable to relax. The excited nervous energy coursing through his veins at the thought of flying again and seeing you.

You can see Frankie leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed, he has a well fitted black shirt and blue jeans with his signature cap on. He’s just smiling at you as you make your way up the path to their house.

“I’m not that late am I?” You’re swinging the small gift bag back and forth on your finger as you hold it out to him.

“No but I saw you pull up and got excited.” He’s practically beaming at you. The happiest you’ve seen him in a long time. “I hope whatever’s in that bag is not for me.”

“You’ll just have to open it and find out.” He grabs the bag from you slowly peeking inside, a medium size black box reveals some brand new aviator sunglasses.

“You didn’t have to do this.” You can hear the slight quiver in his voice and you’re so happy with your choice.

“I’m getting a free tour in the sky, it’s the least I could do.” He pulls you into a tight hug and you inhale his fresh woodsy scent, you recognize it as the body wash you bought him because you insisted he stop using the 3in1 crap that Ben used.

You’re standing in the doorway, neither of you wanting to break the hug, you lightly scratch your nails as you rub his back and a low growl emits from his chest on your cheek.

“We need to go before I change my mind.” He grabs your hand and places a kiss on your fingers before turning around to lock up.

Ben must not be home, thankfully you can deal with that later and just enjoy your afternoon with the old Frankie who seems to be making an appearance.

Frankie jogs ahead of you when you head towards his truck to open the door, he already has his sunglasses on and you curse under your breath a little at the sight. You’ve inadvertently made this day even harder for yourself now that you have to try not to ogle him, but the way his muscles flex in his shirt and the way his jeans are fitting you find your resolve breaking little by little.

You hop in the front seat and just before he closes the door he stops and stares at you. “I forgot to tell you how good you look today.” Fuck you’re not gonna make it.

The ride to the airfield is mostly spent in comfortable silence as you both trade glances at each other, it was so easy with him to just be. No expectations or insecurities. You often wondered how women didn’t realize what a catch he was, you’re glad in this moment no one has stuck around long enough to see what a massive failure it was to let this man go.

****

You were making it so hard for him to focus as you made your way to the chopper he was using for the day. The army tank top and short shorts doing nothing to hide your curves.

He could tell you were carrying yourself differently than the other day. A part of him was grateful for your date with Benny that seemed to bring some peace to your otherwise chaotic weekend.

A helicopter used to bring the sight of hell for the both of you, going on missions unsure if you would make it out alive, but now the way you turn and smile at him, practically bouncing with excited energy he thinks it may be heaven.

“We’ll see if I remember how to fly one of these.” You can almost see the faint wink behind his aviators as he holds the door open for you and you climb into the comfy leather seat. He buckles you in tugging on the straps to make sure they’re secure. He’s desperately trying to keep this as professional as possible but he sees the way you’re looking at him and he just wants to lean in and kiss you. He tears himself away closing the door behind him before he loses all form of concentration.

You wanted him too, and he almost did but you know he needs to focus. Even though he’s flown much larger aircrafts than this countless times, he still doesn’t want to jeopardize his second chance at life. And if you’re correct about your assumption there would be plenty of time for that.

“You know I have strapped myself in a few times.” He’s focused on the task at hand but you can see him smirking as he flips to switches and waits for the all clear to take off.

“I know you have hermosa but I’m supposed to be practicing so just pretend you’re a passenger.

What is it with these boys and pretending? You’ll play along since it worked out in your benefit the last time.

He hands you a headset before doing a final once over and you can feel that familiar drop in your stomach as you lift up. The thrum of the blades all you can hear at the moment. He always made it look so easy and he’s all but confirmed how little practice he actually needed.

Something about finally being in the sky again has his confidence soaring. He can feel it in his bones, the man he used to be trying to make an appearance. He’s trying to focus but he can’t stop looking at the way you smile when you see something you like. He misses seeing you like this, happy to be in the air. Although he doesn’t miss the reasons why you used to be in a helicopter.

You’re trying to take in the sights, but you can’t help but stare at Frankie. The way he’s controlling this massive machine with ease. You can see it in the way he relaxes. His shoulders seem less tense. That smile you loved so much has returned without the slight underlying sadness. It’s intoxicating seeing him like this.

“I missed seeing you in that seat next to me.” He glances over in enough time to notice you smile to yourself.

You fly for a while just taking in the sight below, this was a version of your city you’ve never seen before and it’s truly mesmerizing. It breaks your heart knowing what he had to go through to get back to this place. Everyone has dealt with their demons in their own way. His demons almost took the most important things in his life away from him.

He doesn’t think he’s been this happy flying, seeing your face light up when you spot something you recognize or the fact that you so willingly agreed to come with him and make this day as special as possible.

“You’re pretty good with your hands Mr. Morales.” He raises an eyebrow at you wondering if the altitude has gone to your head. He needs to be safely on the ground if you’re going to call him that again.

“I’m a pretend passenger, remember.”

“My real passenger is an 80 year old man, I hope he doesn’t comment on how good I am with my hands.” You snort into the headset before erupting into full blown laughter and there it is again, that laugh that would bring any man to his knees.

“You mean to tell me you’ve never flirted with a passenger?” He glances at you nervously playing with your straps over your chest as you look out below.

“There was one time.”

“Well I hope it ended well for you.” You can see you’re almost back to the airfield and your heart drops a little at the day coming to an end.

Let’s hope it does end well for me.

****

“So,what are your plans for the rest of the day?” He didn’t want to assume as he awaits your answer, suddenly so focused on the road as you make your way back to their house.

“I don’t have anything planned, I wasn’t sure if you had things you needed to take care of for tomorrow?” He looks a little confused and you can’t help but laugh at the deep crease in his brow.

“You know your first day back at work.”

“Oh, everything is all squared away. Although I was hoping you might want to stay a little while, I can make us lunch.” He sounds a little timid again but when you grab his hand not placed on the steering wheel and kiss his palm all his worries are washed away.

“I would say these hands have done enough today but I would be stupid if I said no to anything you cook.” He has other plans for you and his hands but he needs to focus on one thing at a time first lunch.

He already had a full plan for lunch that would’ve turned into Will and Bennys dinner if you decided not to stay. The conversation flowed easy as you both enjoyed grilled shrimp tacos and homemade ceviche. You hadn’t spent this much time together in months, it seemed you had a lot to catch up on.

You both confided in each other, it was so easy to talk about life and issues without being judged. The more Mike pulled you away left a gaping hole in both of your lives. You couldn’t possibly go back to that again.

Frankie’s washing the dishes, your plates having been completely cleared and has to stop what he’s doing at the sound of your obscenely loud yawn. He can’t help but laugh at your wide eyed expression, you obviously just as surprised by it as he was.

“I’m sorry, I’m just so content after that meal and honestly I got no sleep last night.” He dries his hands and makes his way over to you seated at the kitchen island. A mischievous glint in his eye.

“I have a bizarre request and you can say no if you want to. Seeing as though we both got zero sleep last night, do you want to take a nap?”

“Yes!” You groan internally at your enthusiastic response.

He had a surge of confidence at your response as he got impossibly closer, stepping between your legs as he rubbed his hands up and down your thighs in a soothing motion. He leans in and you close your eyes bracing yourself for a kiss when you suddenly feel his lips brush your ear.

“Bed or couch?” You’re not certain you can breathe with the way his voice drops to a low register. His hands are like fire on your exposed thighs so close to where you want him to touch you.

“Couch?” It comes out in a breathy whisper as you attempt to clear your throat. “I think the couch is safer.”

He hasn’t so much as moved an inch and with his close proximity you’re afraid he can hear your heart beating out of your chest.

“Couch it is, but I’m not sure if it’s safer.” He takes your hand and guides you off the stool and it feels like you’re floating as you make your way to the living room. He sits in the corner, defaulting to his favorite spot despite having a choice of anywhere. He practically pulls you down with him as you settle in facing him with your head resting on his extended arm. Many a movie night you’ve fallen asleep in this exact position, but this feels different.

He pulls the blanket off the back of the couch to cover you as sleep already threatens to claim you. The sound of his steady heartbeat and the smell that you could only describe as him lulling you to sleep.

He doesn’t even think you realize you’re rubbing his back as you muzzle deeper into his chest, the feeling so domestic it makes his chest hurt a little. It’s like a knot that’s formed over time trying to loosen itself the further into sleep he goes. He only remembers the smell of your shampoo and your slow breaths before exhaustion takes him under.

****

The house is quiet…so quiet that he knows Ben and Will definitely aren’t home yet. The sun is still up but casting the orange hue that tells him it’s late in the afternoon. He doesn’t want to move too much because you’re still sleeping so peacefully. He is aware however that you have moved in your sleep, draping your leg over him like he’s a human body pillow.

Perhaps it’s a wicked Pavlovian response that his body betrays him in the moment as you're pinned against him. He’s growing harder in his jeans and every attempt to move you only causes you to stir further, involuntarily grinding your hips into him in a steady slow motion.

You’re having that dream again but this time it feels so real, too real as you feel the hard press of Frankie’s cock against your core. This time when you wake it’s not like a bucket of cold water being thrown on you. It’s softer, more intentional.

“Honey….honey?” It’s a little disorienting, but you can still smell him and see the light coming through the windows. You must not have slept for very long. You can feel his thumb tracing lines across your cheek and slowly register him saying your name. The sensation you were feeling in your dream hasn’t dissipated and you don’t dare look down as your haze begins to lift.

“I think you were having a dream.” His sleepy voice barely above a whisper. “You kept saying my name.” It seems you’re both in a predicament, him more so than you since he’s not actually in your head and you can feel evidently what’s pressed against you.

You hope maybe a change in subject will make him drop it or at the very least get the hint. It didn’t seem like the appropriate time to tell him that you can’t stop having sex dreams about your best friends.

“You know…you didn’t seem like you needed any practice today.” You shift on the couch to look up at him.

“Maybe I told a little white lie.” He’s staring at you, a question hanging in the air of do you want this? He hasn’t moved his hand from your face as he slowly tilts it up further and leans in for a tender kiss. He’s been waiting all day, resisting the urge to kiss you the moment he opened his gift.

He’s waiting for you to pull away or say you don’t want this but that moment never comes as the soft kiss turns into a fight to get impossibly closer. His patience wore thin at the way you were saying his name in your sleep. Your hands are in his hair as he deepens this kiss, both of you trading moans in between breathing. He grips the thigh that’s slung over his hip as he pins you beneath him, the heavy comfortable weight of him grinding you into the couch.

You hate your brain for making you aware of your dry humping session being in the shared residence of the man you were also dating?

“Wait…wait, I have a confession.” He stops suddenly hoping he hadn’t totally fucked this up by going to far. The moment feels like an eternity as he lets you catch your breath.

“I kissed Benny.” You’re bracing yourself for the moment he rolls off you and asks you to leave but he drops his head to your shoulder as he chuckles in your ear.

“Well just consider it even, since I’ve kissed Benny too.” Oh now he wants to make jokes.

“Yes I’m aware but it wasn’t less than 24 hours ago.” He raises an eyebrow at you and you silently curse yourself for assuming. “Unless it was…”

“I’m just kidding, I had to mess with you a little.” You swat his chest playfully and breathe a sigh of relief. “Let’s just say Benny and I have come to a friendly agreement.

You’re not entirely sure what that means but you couldn’t care less as long as they know what’s going on even if you didn’t.

You try to pull him towards you again but he braces his right arm beside your head to stay upright, his left hand not having left your thigh throughout the interaction.

“I suppose if we’re being honest…I have a confession.” His tongue peeks out on his bottom lip as he mulls over how to approach, he has no idea how tempting it looks.

“I was going to wake you up yesterday but you were already in the shower.” Your throat is suddenly dry and your shoulders tense. “ I thought you were crying so I hesitated and then…I heard you say my name.”

There was no playing this off, not like your dream where he knew you were sleeping. This was perhaps the most mortified you’ve ever been. You wish you were anywhere but pinned under his literal and figurative gaze.

“I can explain.” No you can’t

“Tell me.” You try to move out from underneath him but he doesn’t budge.

“Frankie this isn’t fair.”

“No hermosa, you know what’s not fair.” His hand is slowly making its way up your thigh and your breathing is ragged.

“You had to take care of yourself when the hands you wanted to touch you were just on the other side of the door.” You don’t know when you lost control of the situation but here you are, stuck under him. He’s waiting for you to tell him to stop but your body has other plans and your lips won’t move.

“Now tell me.” It’s not a question and this side of him has you faltering.

“Tell you what?” He leans down to kiss your lips but pulls away just as fast.

“What you were doing when you said my name.” He can’t be serious

He’s searching your eyes for any sign you want this to stop but all he finds are your lust blown pupils. He decides upon seeing your excitement to try a different approach.

“Show me.” He waits to see if he made the right choice and you slowly move your hand from around his neck. No one has ever made you this nervous and excited at the same time. His confidence awakened something in you that you didn’t know existed. You slowly start to unbutton your shorts, never breaking eye contact. You can see his chest rising and falling, his resolve breaking a little spurring you on.

You dip your hand under the waistband of your lace panties, thanking yourself for being a little too optimistic about where the afternoon might lead. His eyes trail down your front as he battles with watching your face and watching where your hand has disappeared. He shifts to the side to give you room as you slowly circle your clit with your middle finger. A small whimper escapes your lips and any embarrassment has been replaced with chasing this high.

You drag your finger through your slit as you dip a finger in trying to reach that spot at this awkward angle, you whine in frustration because your fingers aren’t enough with the way he’s been subtly working you up all afternoon.

He grabs your wrist and gently pulls your hand out of your shorts, you're wrapped in his every movement as he brings your fingers to his mouth to lick and suck every last drop from them.

“Let me show you.” His hands seem so much larger than yours as they make their way down your breast and across your abdomen, his trail painstakingly slow but you wouldn’t dare rush this moment.

He dips his hand into your shorts, dragging his fingers across your soft lace panties. “Frankie please…” You're hanging on by a thread and you need him to stop teasing you.

“You’re so sensitive, I’ve barely touched you.” You’re having deja because he’s said that before…or was that your dream. He dips one finger into your entrance as you arch your back. It’s too much and not enough as if he senses your frustration he plunges a second finger in slowly pumping in and out.

You drop your head onto the pillow as you softly moan his name. You can feel his cock grinding into your hip as he picks up the pace. He swallows your moans with his lips on yours. His name has never sounded sweeter than it does now as you chant his name. You’re ratcheted too tight as you feel the coil build, his fingers press down on the soft bundle of nerves and your toes curl in a blinding orgasm. You’re not sure when you gripped his hair like a lifeline as you slowly untangle your fingers while you come down from your high.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way you said my name.” He’s placing soft kisses on your neck as he removes his hand, you’re suddenly feeling a little bold as you can feel how patient he was being. You palm his bulge through his jeans and he bucks his hip, groaning your name.

The sound of car doors slamming have you both looking at each other wide eyed. He grabs your hand and places it around his waist. “I need you to pretend to be asleep.” You open your mouth to speak but he shushes you with a kiss as he flings the blanket back over you both. Your pants are still unbuckled and he’s still very hard but right now as the keys jingle in the door you figure you can deal with it later.

The front door opens and you bury your face into his chest to hide your laughter at having to pretend once again. Ben’s yelling about something per usual as you hear Will shush him.

“Awww they look so peaceful.” You can feel Frankie squeeze your hip and it’s taking everything to calm your breathing. His chest is rising and falling steadily as he squeaks out a fake snore. He may seem peaceful but you can feel his rapid heartbeat against your cheek.

You hear footsteps getting further away and voices trailing as they make their way to the kitchen. Frankie can hear the fridge open and close and the sound of the water in the sink running.

“Can you button your shorts without moving too much?” He whispers into your temple. You nod your head as you slowly move your hand down to button them again, you try your best to avoid his problem that seems to be less obvious. When you’re finally decent you sit up peeking over the back of the couch. You signal for him to sit up and he hears footsteps approaching. He raises his arms above his head dramatically, stretching as you do your best-I just woke up eyes. It’s all ridiculously hilarious

“Good evening sleepyheads.” Ben plops down next to you on the couch and you sit up fully now in the middle of both men.

“Do you ugh…want some water?” Frankie’s standing to stretch now, his little belly exposed as his shirt lifts and you notice he’s still got a slight bulge but nothing that couldn’t be explained by how close you were sleeping.

“Yes please.” Your voice is a little hoarse from your nap or moaning Frankie’s name for too long.

He leaves you two on the couch and heads to the kitchen as Benny pulls you into his side and places a kiss on your temple. This has to be a record for times getting deja vu in one day.

“How was your date?” So they must’ve come to an agreement like Frankie said because he just called it a date without any malice in his tone. Just genuine curiosity and care.

“It was great actually.” Frankie returns with your water and sits back down next to you on the opposite side. He doesn’t seem bothered at all by you cuddling up with Ben and it’s bizarre territory you’re wading into.

“Well I hope you showed our girl a good time.” You’re sputtering your water as Frankie hides his amused face behind his hand. Ben is patting your back as Will enters the living room with beers in hand.

“Are you okay?” He hands the beers around as he tries to offer you one but you wave him off.

“I’m fine…but I really should be going. I have work early tomorrow and I really should get some sleep.” You all stand from the couch unsure of how to say goodbye.

Frankie pulls you into a hug and places a kiss on your forehead. “At least you got a nap today.” He winks at you and you pinch his side knowing he can’t make a sound.

“Don’t hog her, she was with you all day.” Ben picks you up as you yelp, he couldn’t resist that sound. He carefully sets you down and leans in to kiss your cheek.

You turn to see Will in the loveseat sipping his beer with an amused smirk on his face. “I swear to god Will.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender as both men are snickering beside you.

“I didn’t say anything sweetheart.” You make your way towards the door to grab your bag off the hook and you can feel all eyes on you. “ I’ll see you Friday to fix that hole in your wall.”

“Will…”

“Don’t argue with him, it'll only make your life harder.” Ben knows his brother all too well so you decide to take his advice and drop it.

“Fine, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay.” They all say in unison and erupt in laughter.

As you close the door behind you still hearing the faint sounds of your boys you realize how completely and utterly fucked you truly are.

Prev/Next

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

@luciferiorbxtch @alwaysdjarin @meveispunk @casa-boiardi @evyiione @littlenosoul @quijana5702 @shesa-riott @the-fox-den @saturn-rings-writes @romanarose @spngingerbread21 @spookyxsam @summer-may @imonmykneessir

Tagged a few extra who might be interested.

201 notes · View notes

kg2hub · 18 days

Text

🎭 Kindergala Starter Prompts!

here's a collection of prompts you can send into people's ask boxes to interact with them if you don't know what to say, or find it easier to just copy & paste something and send it!! :D

ofc, feel free to change, alter, or expand on these prompts if needed! these are all for different scenarios, but i'm sure you can figure which ones are which from context :'''D

❝Your mask is cool! What's it supposed to be of?❞

❝Ew. What are you doing here?❞

❝Are you... supposed to be me?❞

❝Oh my god. I am so sorry! I didn't mean to spill my drink on you!❞

❝This is really weird... You remind me of someone I know. But different.❞

❝Have we met before?❞

❝There's so many people... I'm getting kind of nervous.❞

❝What are you doing all by yourself? The party's over there.❞

❝Is it really you...? I thought you were dead!❞

❝Oh no, you are not getting the last slice of cake if I have anything to say about it! It's mine!❞

❝Fancy seeing you here. I didn't think we'd meet again.❞

❝I didn't know they let plebians in.❞

❝Why are you so old?❞

❝I remember being that young. I wouldn't ever go back to that.❞

❝Excuse me? I don’t think that's a very nice thing to say.❞

❝I noticed you staring at me for a while... Why?❞

❝I thought I should say hi to everyone here! So hi!❞

❝What even is up with all this multiverse stuff... Have you ever thought about it, like, on a philosophical level?❞

❝So... any mysteries from your world you can spill about to a total stranger?❞

❝I'm under a lot of stress here, so can you stop being so annoying!?❞

❝Do you think past lives are real?❞

❝How do you feel about dying?❞

❝I wish I got a better mask... Mine doesn't fit me that well.❞

❝You're carrying a lot of food there! Need some help?❞

❝Man... I hate the 'no violence' rule. Do you know what I'd do if that wasn't a thing?❞

❝You look like you're having fun! Can I join you?❞

❝You just look like you need some company. I can sit with you for however long you need.❞

❝Did you bring a date for the gala?❞

❝I'd really like to dance with you... Do you feel the same?❞

❝So. We're in the void, huh? I've never been here before...❞

❝You have a nice outfit. Very fancy! I want your style so bad!❞

❝I feel kind of silly, all dressed up for something like this... How about you?❞

❝I came here alone... Can I hang out around you and just be friends for tonight?❞

❝Whoa, hold up! What are you doing?? Isn't that dangerous!?❞

❝I'm about to pull the biggest prank ever, but I need some help. Are you in?❞

❝I bet I can chug all the punch in less than a minute. Wanna watch?❞

❝I'm glad I'm here with you. I'm glad we're here. Coming to this place with you was the best idea, truly."

❝—Wait, is it your birthday? Happy birthday!! Good place to have your party, huh?❞

❝I didn't actually want to come... I was dragged here, kicking and screaming.❞

❝I didn't think I'd have this much fun, but I am!❞

❝Hold on for a second— Your mask is crooked. And there's no mirror nearby... Can I fix it for you?❞

❝...Have you been in the bathroom this whole time?❞

❝Where have you been!? I've missed you!❞

❝Hey, my favourite song's on! Have you ever heard of them?❞

❝Do you think we'll get kicked out if we put ghost pepper powder on all the food and drinks?❞

❝There's so much space to run around and be free! Let loose a little, okay?❞

❝I guess we can't play hide and seek here... Unless you can turn invisible or something. —Wait, can you turn invisible??❞

❝I challenge you to a duel!❞

❝I wanna dance so bad... I'm so scared, though. I'll probably look terrible. I have zero sense of rhythm! I can't dance!❞

❝My group needs someone to take our picture! Can you do it? We'll treat you after, if you want!❞

❝I can't believe I cancelled plans for this.❞

❝Wow... How are you so cool?? I can't believe I'm meeting someone like you!❞

❝What did one mask say to the other? 'I got you covered!'❞

❝I don't think I've been this... calm... in a long time.❞

❝You have such a beautiful smile.❞

❝Jeez, you look like you really need to talk to someone. Like a therapist, maybe?❞

❝I took too much food at the snack bar... Do you want some? Please? I'm begging you, I seriously can't eat all this myself—❞

❝Do you ever know someone, but you don't really know them?❞

❝We might have gotten off on the wrong foot. Can we start over?❞

❝You just arrived? Welcome to the Kindergala! You're a bit late, so the dessert might be all gone if we don't hurry—!❞

❝Did anyone lose a wallet?❞

❝—Hey, is this yours? You dropped this while you were walking.❞

❝I am not cute. Don't you dare call me that.❞

❝I always do something funny before a picture is taken so the smiles are more genuine.❞

❝I thought there would be more adults here. Why is this a daycare??❞

❝The real question is... Where's Waldo?❞

❝...I can't read this. Can you read? What does it say?❞

❝...Sorry, who are you, again?❞

❝Come on, don't look at me like that!❞

❝Coming here was a lot nicer than I thought it'd be!❞

❝This place is so... away from everything. Like, in a good way. It's cozy and quiet— Can I stay here too?❞

❝Would anyone notice if we just take a nap, right here, right now?❞

❝I... brought a gift for you. I hope you like it! Here you go!❞

❝You should let your hair down more often.❞

#kindergala #i guess rp blogs outside this event can use this too btw!!#rp starter #kindergarten rp #rp meme #sentence starters #sentence meme #it's my first time making a sentence starter post so i hope this is all okay :'''D #🖋️ ––– ･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 001. Misc.#misc;#|| Question Time || Ask Memes.#damn. i thought i'd never use that tag again after i moved my rp blog elsewhere :'3

33 notes · View notes

gods-favorite-autistic · 2 months

Text

Fantasy High Incorrect Quotes

Fig: I can explain.

Sandra Lynn: Can you?

Fig: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

Kristen: A theif.

Adaine: Thief?

Kristen: Theif.

Adaine: I before E, except after C.

Kristen: Thceif.

Adaine: No

Somebody: How many kids do you have?

Jawbone: Biologically, emotionally, or legally?

Riz: Ok, maybe playing ‘whose family is most dysfunctional’ wasn’t the best idea we’ve had. Fabian's been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can’t get him out...

Kristen: Change is inedible.

Gorgug: Don't you mean inevitable?

Kristen, spitting out coins: No, I did not

Riz: I think I'm having a mid-life crisis.

Sklonda: You're like 15 years old

Riz: I MIGHT DIE AT 30!

Fig: If there's going to be a big dramatic scene, wait until I get back.

Fabian: Of course. I can't flip this table by myself.

Jawbone: You often use humor to deflect trauma

Kristen: Thank you

Jawbone: I didn't say that was a good thing

Kristen: What I'm hearing is, you think I'm funny

Fig giving bardic: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.

Gorgug: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

Riz: Please, I'm begging you go to Kristen.

Fabian: I'm sorry is this OUR stab wound? Stay out of it.

Kipperlily: Okay. I get it. We’ve had a really hard time lately, we’re stressed out, seven people died-

Ivy: Twelve, actually.

Kipperlily: Not the point. Look, they're dead now and really whose fault is that?

Oisin: Yours!

Kipperlily: That's right: no one's.

Fabian: Okay, truth or dare?

Riz: Truth

Fabian: How many hours have you slept this week?

Riz:

Riz: ...Dare

Fabian: Go to bed.

Riz: I don’t like this game.

Gorgug: Why are you on the floor?

Fig: I'm depressed.

Fig: Also I was stabbed, can you get Kristen, please.

Store Worker: Would a Mr. Jawbone please come to the front desk?

Jawbone, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem?

Store Worker: *points to Fig and Kristen*

Store Worker: I believe they belong to you?

Fig and Kristen, simultaneously: We got lost :(

Jawbone: I didn’t even bring you guys here with me-

Riz: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.

Sklonda: Riz no.

Adaine: Mistlefoe.

Sklonda: Please stop encouraging him.

Adaine: Hey Kristen,

Kristen: Yes?

Adaine: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on?

Kristen:

Kristen: Where’s Aelwyn?

Fabian: I’m kind of crushing on someone, but I’m worried about telling you who it is, because you’re not going to like it

Adaine: Just rip the bandage off.

Fabian: It’s Aelwyn.

Adaine: Put the bandage back on.

Riz: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me.

Fabian: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you?

Riz: Yes!

Kristen: I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you.

Jawbone: I trust the Bad Kids.

Sandra Lynn: You think they know what they're doing?

Jawbone: I wouldn't go that far.

Fig: If Kristen and I were drowning, who would you save?

Adaine: You two can’t swim?

Kristen: It’s a hypothetical question, Adaine! who would you save?

Adaine: my time and effort.

Fig: Come on, I wasn’t that drunk last night.

Gorgug: You were flirting with Ayda.

Fig: So what? She’s my girlfriend.

Gorgug: You asked her if she was single.

Fig:

Gorgug: And then you cried when they said they weren't.

Fig: What if I press the brake and gas at the same time?

Kristen: The car takes a screenshot.

Gorgug, fixing the Hangvan: For the last time, get the fuck out.

Cop: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle.

Fabian: Shit.

Riz: Wait, three?

Cop: Yeah?

Fig: OH MY GOD KRISTEN FELL OFF!!!

Fig: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Kristen: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Fig: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ADAINE WITH ME

Gorgug, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

Riz: *Gently taps table*

Adaine: *Taps back*

Kristen: What are they doing?

Fabian: Morse code.

Riz: *Aggressively taps table*

Adaine: *Slams hands down* YOU TAKE THAT BACK-

Gorgug: Riz isn’t answering his phone

Fabian: I’ll call

Gorgug: Adaine and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Riz: Hello?

Adaine: Good responses for being stabbed with a knife?

Fabian: Rude.

Fig: That’s fair.

Kristen: Not again.

Riz: Are you going to want this back?

Adaine: Poison is a magic transmutation potion that turns people into corpses.

Fig: This knife is actually a magic wand.

Kristen: Meet me in the Denny’s parking lot for a wizard duel.

Riz: *cocks gun* Magic missile.

Sandra Lynn: What the fuck is wrong with you people.

Adaine: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?

Fabian: Several traffic violations.

Kristen: Three counts of resisting arrest.

Riz: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks.

Fig: Also, that’s not our car.

Adaine: Are we really going to let Fabian keep Riz?

Fig: We kept Kristen.

Fabian, walking into his house: Hello, people who do not live here.

Kristen: Hey.

Adaine: Hi.

Gorgug: Hello.

Fig: Hey!

Fabian: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only!

Riz: We were out of Doritos.

#autism (mads) speaks #fantasy high #fhjy #dimension 20 #dimension 20 fhjy #d20 fantasy high #d20 #incorrect quotes

25 notes · View notes

spidey-x-male-reader · 1 year

Note

Pls do spot with a non-binary spider reader who not only thinks he and his abilities are cool, but teaches him how to properly use them. Pls I have so much brains of for this man I'LL TAKE EVEN THE TINIEST CRUMB JUST PLS🙏🙏

Pairing: The Spot x nonbinary!reader

Warnings: ///

A/N: God I was really trying my best with this one. I hope it's alright!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

MASTERLIST

Being part of the spider society probably isn’t your dream job (mostly because you don’t get paid for some reason?) but it was fun most of the time.

You hang out with people who understand you better than most people around you do, you have fun missions and get to kick ass. What’s better than that?

Of course there’s the occasional multiversal threat but you are great at dealing with that. And you would never get compromised because of anything…never…definitely…

“Oh my god he’s so cool” you mumble to yourself while swinging after the spot.

You were alone for the while, Jess having stayed back to do some damage control, but Miguel has clearly tasked you to catch the Spot and make sure he didn’t do anything dangerous. But currently you are way too focused on how cool the guy looks to think about catching him.

“Hey! Can I ask a question?” you ask while swinging next to him.

“Wha– I guess?” He seems more confused than anything. As much as you can judge from…his non-existent facial features.

“Do your powers have some kind of limit of distance or could you like…go to Italy right now if you wanted?”

“I–” he stops moving and stays standing on a rooftop. “That’s a good question actually.”

You stop standing next to him, carefully touching his shoulder. It feels pretty normal. You imagined something else.

“...aren’t you going to arrest me or something?”

“I’ll think about it when my boss starts paying me.” you shrug. “My name is (y/n) by the way.” you hold your hand out to him. Ah yes. Telling your secret identity to the guy you’re supposed to be hunting. Miguel would give you the most disapproving glare if he saw you right now.

“The spot.” he shakes your hand. “But…I guess Jonathan if we go by first names” this was probably the weirdest interaction you had all week…or the second weirdest.

“So…tell me more about your powers. How do they work?”

“What? So you can make fun of them?”

“Fun? Are you kidding? This is like…the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. And I saw a guy that turned into a giant rhino. And that’s pretty cool. But those powers are like…” you look up to (were you guess) his face is. “...absolutely incredible. They’re beautiful.”

“Well that’s the first time someone says that…usually they tend to make fun of it or just…the way I look.”

“What’s wrong about the way you look?” you frown, looking at him. “Sure…it’s a bit weird to not have a face to look at but I think we can work with that.”

He doesn’t say something for a few seconds, just studying you silently. “Thank you” he eventually says.

You want to say something when your communicator blinks as you hear Jessica’s voice out of it. “(y/n)? Have you caught the spot?”

You look up at him for a moment. “...no. I lost him. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Meet me at the meet up point. We’re going to have to think about a new strategy.”

“Of course. I’ll be there in a few minutes. I’ll check the territory once more.” you say before hanging up. “I do not like lying to Jess.”

“Why…did you lie?”

“I didn’t see the reason for turning you in.” you smile at him. “And…you know. Maybe I can help you if you need some more help with your powers. I mean I’m not an expert at portals and stuff but I’m good…positive affirmation.” you grin at him before stepping to the edge of the building.

“How am I…going to find you for that?” he asks, taking a step towards you again.

You turn back to him again. “Don’t worry. I’ll be the one finding you.” you grin and let yourself fall off the building backwards.

That looked cool, right?

You are hoping it looked cool.

And you’re trying to do your best to not think about the fact that you wanted to impress the new villain.

….that was okay….right?

162 notes · View notes

deputyrook · 11 months

Text

Impressions- 2/? Mark Hoffman x Psychic!Reader

(Repost after I accidentally deleted my tumblr 😭)

PART 1.

You're a reluctant psychic. He's a detective. And a serial killer.

(Can I make it any more obvious?)

Word count: 3498

WARNINGS: Gaslightling, corruption, stockholm syndrome, some drug use (painkillers), blackmail, power imbalance, abusive dynamics, overt threatening, general Saw-levels of horror.

this fic is kind of goofy, because I'm writing it for fun and not taking it super seriously! enjoy 💕

“Mark didn’t hit on you, did he?” Kerry asks over the phone, a note of disgust in her voice, “If he did, I’ll kick his ass. Though… you didn't exactly look uncomfortable when you fell into his arms yesterday. Am I wrong?”

Sometimes, you wondered how Kerry could be so oblivious.

You swallow a handful of painkillers before you answer her, washing them down with a swig of stale soda that’s been sitting out on your counter.

“He's, what, ten years older than us?” You ask, setting down the can and playing with the cord of your telephone.

“That’s not an answer,” Kerry teases, “And he’s early forties, I think. Hey, I won’t stop you. I'll sure as hell judge you, but I won't stop you.”

The events of the prior evening feel surreal now, in the morning light of the next day. Detective Mark Hoffman hasn’t contacted you, and if you didn’t have his phone number saved in your cell, you would have thought the entire car ride had been a bad dream.

You can’t help but second guess yourself now- had he ever actually admitted to being an accomplice? What if he was just a defensive asshole, and you’d misinterpreted everything again? The doubts creep in, now that your visions have been chased away, back into hiding in the recesses of your mind.

“Not interested,” you mutter. “I wasn’t feeling great last night, you know that. I barely remember getting home.”

Kerry’s tone sobers at that, and you hear her sigh. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I know you don’t like doing that, but we were completely out of leads.”

“And you still are,” you note, “I didn’t dream of anything useful last night, by the way. Total void.” If you’re lucky, you’ll never have another vision about the Jigsaw murders, though you suspect you’ve been plunged headfirst into the thick of it.

The painkillers will keep the flashes at bay, at least for now. The rest will come to you, jumbled and nonsensical, when it’s least convenient.

“Not entirely. But how are you feeling?” Kerry asks. She’s never been the best at heart-to-hearts, or at fielding your psychic nonsense, but you can hear the genuine concern in her voice for you. You wish you could tell her- the killer she hunts is right there, in the office across the hall, she could be in danger- but with the potential risk to both her and you, it’s just not worth it.

Not unless you manage to get your hands on some hard evidence of Hoffman’s involvement.

Years of dealing with a surrealist-nightmare-kaleidoscope for a brain had forced you to become patient. You could bide your time and wait carefully until an opportunity to steal some actual proof arose. Until then, you just had to keep breathing.

“Helloooo? Are you there?” Kerry’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry Ally. You know how I get. I called in sick today, but I’m alright. I promise. Nothing some rest and relaxation can’t fix,” you try to smile, but you can’t hide the exhaustion in your voice.

“Good,” she says, resolute, “I won’t ask you to come in again. Not unless something else comes to you. But I won’t believe he’s dead. Not yet.” It doesn’t take psychic abilities to know she’s talking about Eric Matthews, nor to feel the regret she carries with her, punctuating her words.

“And you shouldn’t. You know my hit rate on alive-versus-dead isn’t always the best.” Kerry hums in consideration at your words, and after you both say your goodbyes to one another, you hang up the receiver of the phone.

Once again, you’re left in the silence of your lonely apartment- save for your cat, who brushes up against your leg with a purr. He reminds you so easily that it’s not just your life on the line, here. Would Jigsaw ever try to test a cat...? Reaching down to scratch behind his ears, you try to consider your next steps carefully.

But all it does is make your head hurt. You pluck an ice pack from your freezer and lay down on your sofa, holding it to your head with a soft groan.

You must fall back asleep at some point, because you’re woken up from a dreamless sleep by the ringing of your phone. You check your home phone, and then, realizing it’s not the culprit, rifle through your bag for your cell.

“Hello?” You mumble into the phone as you flip it open, blinking awake.

“What, were you asleep? It’s the middle of the day,” Hoffman says.

“I called in sick. Got in pretty late last night, and I didn’t sleep the best,” You deadpan. Without being right next to him, it’s easier to keep your cool and not get flustered.

“We should talk. Let’s get dinner,” he says, “Six-o-clock. You know Eve’s Diner? On Newhaven street- with the neon sign?”

Your stomach drops. It didn’t seem like he was just asking you out politely. When was the last time you got dinner with a man, anyway? His tone is so casual that it makes you want to squirm.

“Yeah, I know the place. It's pretty close by, right?” At least in public, he wouldn’t be able to do anything overtly threatening to you. It didn’t seem like there was any use in arguing with him, or telling him you weren’t feeling up to it. He knows your address, and he apparently knows Jigsaw. That's enough to secure your compliance.

“Good. I’ll see you there, then.” And he hangs up the phone.

Your head throbs, but it’s lessened in severity since the morning. You consider taking another batch of painkillers, but decide against it. If you’re meeting Hoffman for dinner, it might be better to stay sharp.

—

The sight of Mark Hoffman, sitting in a diner booth, would be almost comical if it wasn’t so nerve-wracking. He’s stirring some sugar into his coffee, hunched against the wall, his hair smoothed back neatly and his police badge hanging around his neck. He looks tired, you think, but otherwise like a normal, upstanding member of society- if not one slightly too large and too dour for the diner table he’s seated at.

“Hi,” you say, sliding into the booth across from him.

He nods toward you in recognition, before leaning back in the seat. Mark looks at you, up and down, in silent surveyance. You stare back, studying him in return. Both of you size each other up, like the other is the dangerous one.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” He says, “And after some more thought, I’m not convinced. For all I know, maybe you’re workin’ with John Kramer. That seems more likely than you being psychic.”

Ah. You’ve gotten this reaction before. When someone, with time and consideration, doubles back to doubt your abilities. You couldn’t exactly blame him for that. Particularly for skeptics, it’s a hard pill to swallow that you have access to senses that they don’t.

Being accused of being a serial killer was new territory, however.

“I’m not working with Jigsaw,” you sputter, keeping your voice quiet. The diner isn’t too busy, and you’re seated in a corner away from other patrons, but it’s still public enough that you want to be careful. “Shouldn’t you know I’m not?”

He squints at you, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying or not.

“You tell me. You said there were four. Jigsaw, Amanda, myself- according to you- and so who’s the fourth? If it’s not you.” He sounds impatient. You blink at him, trying to process where he’s coming from. And then, it hits you. He doesn’t know.

For a second, you consider trying to play it off like you are the fourth apprentice. Maybe then, he’d trust you more directly with information that you could use against him. But then, you re-evaluate. Lying to a mass murderer was probably a bad idea. Lying to a cop was arguably worse.

“Well, it’s not me. But yeah, there’s at leastfour involved that I picked up on. Four main...signatures,” You pause, before continuing. “So that’s why you want me to tell you about what I sense. Even you don’t know what he’s planning, or everyone who’s involved.”

“I’ve been on this case since the beginning. Of course I wanna know. Especially since you’re out here accusing me,” He remarks, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing, “Kerry didn’t act any different toward me this morning. Good. Keeping your theories to yourself was smart.”

“Yes, lest you start actually convincing me you’re not Jigsaw, let me not forget how you threatened me last night,” You mumble, crossing your arms in front of your chest protectively.

“You pouting about it?” He asks, teasing, a smirk just barely edging onto his face, “C’mon. Show me your trick. How do you do it?” He beckons you closer, and you find yourself leaning in across the table. Like you’re sharing a secret with him.

“It’s not like I’m getting visions of the future, per se,” You try to explain, “It’s more like... hyper intuition. I get emotions, mostly. It’s an extreme version of empathy. Sometimes I get flashes of imagery from the past, present, and future, but it’s usually mixed up so I can’t tell which is which. Mainly, I just trust my gut. Which isn’t often wrong- but my interpretation of what I’m seeing can be off. Has been.”

“Hyper-intuition, huh?” He says, mulling it over, “Tell me something else about me, then. Prove it.”

You swallow uncomfortably. “I uh, need to be touching you.”

Mark raises his eyebrows at you. Before he can say anything mocking, the waitress comes by, filling both of your coffee cups. She takes your orders quickly, as though picking up on the vibe that you both want to be left alone. When she leaves, Mark spreads his hands in a gesture as if to say, do your thing, then.

Gently, you reach out and take his hands in yours. Rough, calloused, and strong. You try not to think about it as you close your eyes, and allow the gate to open for the second time in two days.

The chattering in the diner fades away into the background as your intuition takes hold, clouding out your other five senses like the moon passing over the sun in a total eclipse. First, there’s just darkness. Even the sensation of Mark’s skin against yours fading to a dull buzz. Then, sensations begin to spawn, bubbling up from somewhere else.

From the man seated across from you, you think.

“Strawberries,” you murmur, the taste of fresh, wild berries being the first thing that comes to you, sweet and tart, “I think they were picked wild, by mindful fingers. Yours are older, but never as gentle. Her small hands were always more careful than yours, never crushing the berries like you did.”

It’s a kind, well-loved memory -you assume- the impression coming in easy and unambiguous. The next is more muddled.

“Ah- pain. There’s noise, it’s discordant and loud,” You wince, squeezing Mark’s hands. You tilt your head, trying to make out the source, but all you get is scraps of yelling, fighting, shivering hands, the smell of rain.

It melts then, into that feeling again. The deep, unending well of misery. Loss, in its purest form. Utter loneliness, vast like an unending ocean.

“It’s like the sun went out,” you whisper, voice cracking. Your heart is breaking. The depth of your pain is nearly unbearable, and it makes you want to pull back and disconnect. “It’s like all the light’s been snuffed from this world. Alone.”

“Yeah,” Mark’s voice confirms, calm, quiet and sombre, “You know why that is, don’t you?”

You frown, hands trembling. The smell of blood rises, pungent and sickening. Blood, blood, so much blood. It smells so strong that you can taste it. Then something else- formaldehyde. The words leave your mouth before you can register what they mean.

“He took her from me,” You murmur hoarsely, a pure conduit for the feeling. Dimly, you’re aware of hands squeezing yours back, too tight.

Then, the rage. The despair. An energy trapped, like a feral animal in an enclosure. Desperate to make things right again, to make the world right, with no way to do it that makes sense.

Trapped, trapped, trapped. Starving. Alone again.

You’re lost in the feeling before Mark’s voice pulls you back.

“He deserved what he got,” he says, and you’re redirected. The sun is still gone, the world is still cold. Justice is a fleeting concept, a principle that isn’t achieved until you make it happen.

The world is so cold without the sun, but he died screaming for taking her. That’s justice enough.

And then, a finality- a sense of purpose.

"They all deserve it," you say.

You open your eyes, and let go of his hands. Hoffman’s expression is hard to read as you settle back in the booth. The despair still lingers over you, like a chill that’s seeped into your bones.

“That your thought, or mine?” He asks finally. “You must have felt a lot of it over the years. Other people’s pain.”

“Sure,” you reply, “Everyone’s got it. Life isn’t fair.”

“Not unless you make it fair,” Mark counters, “You can’t tell me he didn’t deserve to die like that for what he did.”

“Can you just tell me?” You ask quietly, “So I can get the full picture, no missing pieces of the puzzle. The loss...was your sister? He killed her?”

Mark thinks about it for a second. He looks like he’s going to refuse you, not responding for so long that you wonder if he’s deliberately ignoring you.

Your food arrives before he answers, the waitress bringing your plates and setting them down in front of you both. Mark's ordered a cheeseburger and fries, the all-American classic diner food; you a club sandwich, though your appetite has evaporated since you've arrived here. And after yesterday, it was barely present to begin with.

Then finally, after you both have started to eat, he speaks.

“My sister’s ex-boyfriend murdered her. Seth Baxter. A sick, abusive fuck. He was convicted, got life in jail. Took a couple of years, but he finally went away for it. Well, he filed an appeal. His new lawyer said that the jury was tainted by the evidence of his history of domestic assaults on women, that the evidence was improperly admitted and ‘prejudicial’ to his case. After five years, the case was successfully appealed... and he went free,” A feeling of disgust and rage twists in you, and you can’t tell whether it’s Hoffman’s or yours.

“So you...”

“Jigsaw killed him,” Mark answers, “Cut him in half. He was already dating someone new when he was picked up. Tell me that's not fair.”

The words hang in the air, and you take them in. You’re starting to learn to read Mark’s face better, you think, because you can detect just a hint of smugness in his expression. You try to determine how you feel about this, but your feelings are still all tangled up in Hoffman’s. Extricating them is difficult.

“So he deserved it,” You say finally, “Jigsaw’s not just a vigilante. He kidnaps people who are- who are addicted to drugs, or who only hurt themselves, and he makes them play in these sick games. It's not right,” You can’t believe you’re arguing the philosophy of Jigsaw with one of the murderers himself. It seems unbelievable.

Mark actually rolls his eyes at you.

“It’s either people who deserve it, or people who don’t deserve their lives to begin with,” He murmurs, “think about it.”

Then you remember the feeling you’d gotten before, at the police station. The deep, dark depths of satisfaction. A kind of beast in the heart, ugly and hungry and grinning. The thought that you might have inadvertently given it some purchase in your own mind freaks you the hell out.

“Easy for you to say,” you whisper, the fear keeping your voice barely audible, “You like watching people hurt.”

Mark doesn’t deny it- maybe he sees no use in doing so, when you already know better. He looks at you coldly, calculating.

“Does it matter?” He says, “Keep your word, and you won’t be on the receiving end.”

You take a sip of your water nervously, looking around the diner. Though still not exceptionally busy, you’ve both nearly finished your food (well, Mark has, you've picked away at yours), and more people are trickling in the door. If you continue to talk here, it may become more difficult to avoid being overheard.

Wouldn’t that be a good thing, for you?

“Let’s finish up,” Mark says, as though he’s been reading your mind, “We can meet up again later. I'm going to ask you more about this mystery fourth person. So keep your eyes open," he pauses, and huffs. "Or closed, I guess."

"And Kerry will be fine?" You ask, insistently, "She's a good person, Hoffman."

"Is she?" He challenges, "she wasn't exactly discreet with Matthews. And she knew he was dirty. As far as I can tell, you're her only friend."

"Oh, and you didn't know?" You snap back, defensive, "If she deserves to be tested, we all do."

Mark stands, putting on his coat. "Yeah. Or most, at least." He replies in agreement.

"Come on," he adds, his hand on the small of your back again. You can't tell if it's meant to be possessive, threatening, or whether he's done it without even thinking about it. Perhaps surprisingly, it doesn't feel as uncomfortable this time around. "I'll walk you home. Wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

A worm has been planted in your mind, and it feeds.

Over the next week, you feel more torn than you think you've ever felt in your life. Mark Hoffman's words bore into your mind, repeating over and over, with the echos of his pain piercing through you in random intervals. You flit between feeling angry at the situation you're in, and wanting to go to Kerry and lay it all out on the table, to a strange feeling of camaraderie with Mark Hoffman.

It's a downside you've always had to reading someone, and inviting them in- you feel connected with them, permanently. Once you see through their eyes, and feel what they feel, it's hard for you to just pull away again. A piece of them remains.

It was like you were being tested yourself. By connecting with the worst possible person, you were pushing yourself- how strained could the connection be, how adverse to your own interest, while you still feel like you're on the same side?

You lie awake at night, replaying your conversation with Mark in your mind. Thinking of all the hurt you'd ever felt, yours and everyone's, echoing forever.

Needless to say- you weren't doing great. And the fact that you weren't sleeping well didn't help.

Dreams came frequently after that shared dinner with Mark Hoffman. You dreamt alternately of horrible panic, the feeling of being trapped, and physical pain that makes you wake up sobbing. So many images form in your mind that it's hard to keep track- scalpels, keys, case files, teeth, distorted statues, the smell of antiseptic.

You text it all to Mark as it comes to you. Anyone looking at your text log would think you were both insane.

But still, you tell him your dreams, and he listens. You theorize about the fourth person together, like you're trying to solve the case. You trade tidbits, make suggestions, and rule out others.

You kind of... like texting him.

---

[2:33AM - Outgoing] Just woke up with the image of a blonde woman in my head. I don't know who she is.

[2:37AM - Incoming] could be jill tuck. ex-wife.

[2:39AM - Incoming] Photo Message

[2:42AM - Outgoing] Nope, sorry. Not her.

[2:45AM - Incoming] i thought maybe she was the 4th

[2:47AM - Outgoing] Blonde woman didn't feel like the 4th. Looked like a scientist of some kind? Idk. Wearing a white lab coat.

[2:49AM - Outgoing] I also got a red room with a bunch of pictures. Like Polaroids maybe? Hung up I think. Not sure if it was connected to the blonde woman.

[2:50AM - Incoming] that ones a red herring. already happened

[2:52AM - Outgoing] Ugh

[2:56AM - Outgoing] How long is this going to last?

[2:57AM - Incoming] what

[2:59AM - Outgoing] You keeping me as your pet psychic

[3:00AM - Incoming] you think i'm planning to stop?

[3:01AM - Incoming] you'd better get used to me.

[3:02AM - Incoming] remember. delete these.

[3:04AM - Outgoing] Yeah, yeah. Do you ever sleep?

[3:05AM - Incoming] when i'm not being woken up by txts

[3:08AM - Incoming] lets meet this weekend

[3:08AM - Incoming] I want to show you something

(author's note: the true dynamic is emerging! and yes, I had to go on a little sidebar on how seth baxter's sentence could have actually been reversed. i'm a prosecutor, I can't help myself.)

TAG LIST: @icarusinstatic @honimello @haven-is-happy @thebrideofcaliban

NEXT CHAPTER

#mark hoffman #slasher fic #saw franchise #slasher x reader #saw movies #sawposting #costas mandylor #detective hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman x oc #my writing #sorry again for the repost

104 notes · View notes