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jwonsoon · 26 days

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Enhypen's reactions to you being super talkative when they're tired ⋆.˚ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

☾ a/n: It has been a minute !!! Me and bff have been so so busy since it's our final semester of high school. But I am here to provide for my delusional folk <3 I honestly wrote this on a whim because I've been feeling extra insane lately with all the work I have to do so ignore any stupid mistakes I make in this. I want to post more on here for sure, senior year is coming to a close soon and me and bff are moving into a new university together so hopefully we'll have time for more posts. Okay enough yapping, go read! pairings: enhypen x g/n reader genre: fluff

cw: kissing (nothing crazy dw), ignore grammatical errors!

JUNGWON

He doesn’t care if his life is on the line, the last thing he’s going to do is make you feel rushed when you’re talking about something you’re genuinely interested in.

He finds you SO cute when you’re mumbling about something that you enjoy !! He gazes at you with his boba eyes nodding along to everything you say

“Oh my god sorry I’m talking so much” you say to him embarrassed at how comfortable you’ve gotten in his presence and how he’s probably so tired

He’ll immediately shake his head no and tell you “keep talking i love listening to you”

Because he’s tired he pulls you into a hug and plays with your hair while you talk.

His sign that he’s tired is when he gets really touchy. Like he is all of a sudden kissing your forehead and playing with your cheeks which is usually a sign for you to call it a day…

JAKE

We all know this guy cannot for the life of him control his sleepiness but he loves you so he makes his adjustments

Its a shame but this guy is NOT !!! LISTENING !!!

He’s cuddling you and you’re yapping away he’s going to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck and just keep going “mhm, i see”

You notice that he isn’t listening so you ask a question to throw him off and he responds with “yeah totally” making you chuckle.

He looks up flustered realizing he just admitted to not paying attention to you.

“Sorryyyyy!!!!” He pouts leaning to kiss you.

“Im listening I just need a minute” he spends that “minute” sleeping on your arm and then he sits up shaking his head like a puppy trying to wake himself up.

Claps, sits up, “Okay! talk! I’m up.”

HEESEUNG

He’s always up fighting his sleep to play video games anyway so he’s the most prepared in situations like these

If he notices your in a particularly chatty mood and he’s sleepy, he will drag both of you out of bed and make sure you’re sitting up so that he isn’t prone to falling asleep on accident

You’re talking and talking and he is giving the same exact energy back!! he will laugh and giggle at everything

When he’s really getting tired he yawns out loud and goes “baby.. im a bit sleepy.. actually no no keep going, just come here”

He’ll open his arms wide for you to lay on his chest while you talk

You notice his eyes are closed so you stop and start getting up only for him to pull you back down and say “just stay here, i like listening to your pretty voice”

SUNGHOON

He is so in love with you. it is PATHETIC!

He is so sleepy too and looks insanely cuddly so whenever you are talkative you lay facing him and talk his ear off while hugging him

He is way too in love to tell you that you need to please shut up because he is SO TIRED so instead he kisses you to ease his tiredness away

“That girl” —kiss “is so” —kiss “annoying” —kiss

“Hoon stopp” to which he kisses you again, mumbling against your lips “I’m listening baby”

SUNOO

No matter how tired he is it fades away when hes with you

You’re always spilling the latest gossip to Sunoo and he eats it up everytime.

“She actually has something against me” you say to which Sunoo responds “how could anyone hate this cute face” pinching your cheeks

You brush his hand away and jokingly roll your eyes and thats all it takes for his cuteness aggression to launch through the roof

He is all of a sudden squeezing you tight going “Why are you so cute you’re just so cute you’re so cute”

He is literally holding you shaking your shoulders while smiling so big going “No tell me!!! why are you so cute??”

“Sunoo you’re scaring me” you say to which he responds “Good! I’m pissed off you’re perfect.”

You guys will literally spend the whole night talking, Sunoo literally forgot that he was tired in your presence

JAY

He is half asleep walking through the door

But! that doesn’t stop him from at least pretending to listen to you

As he’s putting his stuff down you are following him around talking about the ending of the show that you just watched

Hes humming in response and smiling to himself

He stops suddenly turns to face you pulling you in for a hug “Baby I’m so tired today i dont know why….” sighing into your arms

He didn’t want to explicitly say to you please shut up but it was definitely a sign to you to take it down a notch

He’d look down to kiss you on the lips and say “Let’s talk in bed hm?”

When you guys are in bed he lets you lay on his chest and he says “Now tell me all about that show you were talking about”

He will listen to you, or at least try to, but with his fingers playing with your hair you are slowly lulled to sleep.

He'll look at you, smile, kiss your forehead and you will wake up confused as to how he shut you up so quickly.

NI-KI

Riki is definitely a little more honest but thats what you love about him!

“I can see all your teeth babe, what’s got you cheesing?” he says to you as he sits down on the bed

“I have so much to tell you!” you say to him patting the space beside you for him to come and lay in.

“And I have so much sleep to catch up on!” He says mockingly as he lays down next to you. You pout to which he kisses you and says “Go on, talk my ear off”

You start going off on a tangent and he is just looking at you with a boxy smile on his face and laughing at how your facial expressions are so dramatic in comparison to the light hearted story you’re telling

He stares at you with glistening eyes after his 40th yawn in a row

“You know you talk too much, right? It’s a good thing you’re cute” he would say pulling you into a hug

“That’s rude! and I wasn’t don—” you are interrupted by a kiss on the lips

“I promise to listen all day tomorrow, okay? Let’s sleep now?” He says rubbing circles on your back, with his eyes already closed.

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forgeofthenine · 6 months

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Can I request headcanons for Dammon, and Zevlor unconsciously wrapped his tail around their waist or leg (I can't decide because I love both of it too much XD) when his human gn crush is about to leave? They're surprised because they thought he was being too nice to tell them to leave so they asked with hopeful eyes if they could talk to him a bit more.

I had a great time writing this, I love tiefling tails! I hope you don't mind Anon, I added Rolan into the headcanons too :)

I'd also like to point people over to @underdark-dreams again as their recent tail headcanons have been my latest brainrot and these definitely take some inspiration from them <3

Tiefling bachelors stopping you from leaving with their tails

Dammon

Dammon finds it so hard to control his natural instincts around you

His tail swishes and curls towards you near constantly

It's something any other tiefling can recognise as him showing interest, but to you it's just 'how he is'

This time, you're both talking at his forge, discussing inconsequential things despite the fact it's already falling dark

As Dammons tail starts to sway faster you think it might be that you've overstayed your welcome

Dammons lovely after all and might not want to send you home

Your attempt at saying good night is interrupted however, as a firm tail wraps over your back and holds you in place

As your voice fades, Dammons face bursts into a blush, finally realising what he's done

The tail leaves you almost as fast as it appeared, a disappointing development

Dammon clears his throat, eyes not knowing where to settle, and finally he looks at you again

"Well, would you like to stay for dinner?"

Zevlor

This man has great self-control

Years of military work in the hellriders has perfected how he acts

What threatens to undo that is your very presence

You're with him in his makeshift office again, having a good go over the maps before lunch

Standing with a short yawn, you mention not wanting to take too much of the leaders precious time

It's then that a small panic runs through Zevlor, the man not quite ready for his company to leave, so what does he do?

Wraps his tail gently around your calf

He near hangs his head in shame over how forward the gesture was, even for a non tiefling like you

What reassures him is hearing your laugh ring through the room, surprised eyes looking back up at you

"I'm- I am so sorry, I didn't mean to."

"Zevlor, if you want me to stay, I'd love to."

This man never wants to let you go

Rolan

I can very vividly see how exactly this would happen with Rolan

We all know this man is so, so stubborn and he hates doing what others tell him to

He's the master of Ramaziths tower, it's been a long day of lectures, he's still grading papers despite the raging cramp in his hand

So you creep into his study to try and ease him away and off to his bed

Rolans shoulders tense under your touch before relaxing again, the only response you'll get from him other than a small hum

After what feels like ages, you decide he's much too stubborn even for you

Nothing works, soft words, rubbing his shoulders gently, whispered threats-

It's only once you turn away that a sneaky tail wraps around you waist and pulls

In no time, you find yourself sitting across the wizards lap, his face pressing into your neck

His breath is warm over your skin, his tail even more so as it curls comfortably around you

Rolan sounds truly exhausted when he finally speaks

"I'll go to bed, but only if you come with me."

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 dammon #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #baldurs gate 3 rolan #dammon x reader #zevlor x reader #rolan x reader #bri answers

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physalian · 27 days

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What No One Tells You About Writing #4 (100 Follower Special!)

Have you got any that deserve to be on these lists? Don’t be shy! Send ‘em over.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

*This list contains mentions of assault, #4

1. Zero cursing is better than censored cursing

I made the mistake in the early days of writing a self-censoring character, and every “curse” she said just took the teeth out of the rest of the statement. I’m talking gosh, darn, dang, etc, not world-specific idioms a la “scruffy nerf herder” or “dunderhead” instead of “dumbass”.

Look to any American TV show that so, so badly wants to use f*ck or sh*t but has to appease the sensitive conservatives who still somehow believe strong language is worse than graphic violence and horrifying psychological damage. For shame! Your characters can be angry without expletives, so rework your sentences to include equally damning insults that don’t resort to potty mouths if you’re concerned about ratings.

Or go full-throttle into the idioms of the world or the time period like Pirates of the Caribbean. Or just… don’t. There’s zero modern cursing in the Lord of the Rings adaptation and not a single sentence that censors itself. The dialogue is above vulgarity and feels more *fantastical* that way anyway.

2. “Yeah, you aren’t the target audience.”

It’s kind of hilarious seeing the range of reader reactions to two characters I intend to have a romantic relationship. Some will go “I ship it!” after the first page of them together… and another will go “wait, I thought they were just friends” up until they kiss. Sometimes you might be too subtle, other times it might be better to just accept that you can’t rewrite your entire book to please one naysayer.

When I’m pitched a fantasy adventure book that turns out to be a by-the-numbers romance where no one is allowed to be a peasant and every important character is royalty in some way, with a way cooler fantasy backdrop, I get severely disappointed. That doesn’t mean the book is bad, it just means I’m not the target audience.

3. There is no greater character sin than making them boring

Unless you live in the wacky world we find ourselves in where any flaws whatsoever are apparently harmful depictions of so-and-so and not at all written with things like ~nuance~. I will gush over your heinous villain committing atrocities because he’s *interesting*. I will not remember Bland Love Interest who’s a generic everyman with zero compelling or intriguing traits or flaws.

There’s another tumblr post out there that I cannot find that says something like this, and I believe the post goes “his crimes are fiction, my annoyance is real”. Swap annoyance for boredom and you get what I mean. So, I don’t care what your character does so long as they’re memorable. I will either root for their victory or their doom, but I do need *something* to root for.

4. The line between “gratuitous” and “respectful” is actually very thick

Less what no one tells *you* about writing and more what no one tells screenwriters. Y’all do realize you can write a character who experiences assault without actually writing the assault, right? Fade to black, have them mention it in their backstory, or have the horrific aftermath as they come to terms with it. An abrupt cut to this devastated character when it’s all over and they’re alone with themselves can be incredibly poignant and powerful. This goes with anything sensitive, especially if it’s not coming from experience.

If you want to write it or film it respectfully, romanticizing assault, for instance, is when it’s framed as if either character has earned or “deserves” it. If the narrative in any way argues that it's justified. The victim might have "earned" it for any of the BS reasons we use in the real world, or the perpetrator might've "earned" it because of temptation, desire, pressure to assert dominance, etc. Representation is important, but are you “representing” to shed light on a misunderstood and maligned topic, or are you doing it to satisfy a fetish or bias in yourself?

5. Don’t let your eyes get bigger than your stomach

Fantasy has no limitations, which means you can dig way deeper into the well of your worldbuilding than you realize, until you look up and realize you’re stuck down there. I have never seen a more obvious inevitable disaster looming than the pilot of GoT season 5. Why? Nobody has any plans. They’re all just led around by whatever side quest the writers throw them on, twiddling their thumbs until the writers deign to pull the trigger on the White Walkers.

To the point that what should be a major character can skip an entire season because his arc is meaningless. Everything in the last half of that show was one big “eventually” while the story toiled around in an ever-expanding cast of characters and set pieces (seriously, it’s hilarious how jarring the extended version of the theme music became compared to the pilot episode to fit all these locations).

When you have too many directionless characters, too many plot elements, too many ideas you want to fully mature and get their due spotlight and then somehow combine them all together for a common foe in the end, writing can get tedious and frustrating very quickly. Why, I imagine, the book series remains unfinished. Fantasy is great for being able to create such complex worlds, but don’t be the snake that eats its own tail trying too hard.

6. No one cares about your agenda if you insult them to push it

This deserves its own post but here we go. Peddling an agenda is a paradox: those who agree with you won’t need to be preached to, and those who you want to persuade will instead reject you further because they feel belittle and disrespected. This is why so many recent “strong female characters” fail on both sides of the aisle. Feminists see an annoying caricature of the movement they’re passionate about. Antifeminists see an insufferable, shallow, liberal mouthpiece when they just want to be entertained. You have failed both sides, congrats.

The answer? Write a strong, nuanced, well-developed character. Then make them a woman. I know this has been said before but this BS keeps happening so clearly the screenwriters aren’t listening. Entertain me first. Entertain me so well I don’t even realize I’m learning.

7. Today’s audiences won’t react the same way as tomorrow’s

Sometimes genres or tropes get oversaturated and need a few years to cool off before audiences are receptive to them again—teen dystopia, anyone?—that doesn’t mean your story is inherently bad because it’s unpopular (nor does it mean it’s amazing because it is popular).

You should always write the book you want to read, not the book that chases trends. I can pick up a well-written teen dystopia I’ve never read before and enjoy it. I can continue to ignore Divergent because it has nothing to say. Write the book you want to read, but then accept that you might make no money because no one else wants to read it, not because they think it’s bad. And, who knows? You might get a boom of chatter months or years down the line when readers stumble upon an uncut gem.

8. Your characters don’t age with you

Depending on how long you’ve been working on your world and what age you were when you started, the characters, concepts, morals, and story you set out to tell might no longer reflect who you want to be as an author when all is said and done. Writing can take years, some of which can be incredibly turbulent and life changing. I wrote the first draft of my first original novel in my freshman year of college. Those characters and that draft are now unrecognizable and has left a world I’ve poured my heart and soul into in limbo.

I’ve slowly creeped up my characters’ ages. My writing has matured dramatically. The themes I wanted to explore in the height of the 2016 election are just demoralizing now. That book was my therapeutic outlet and, as consequence, my characters sometimes reflect some awful moods and mindsets that I was in when writing them. But nothing in that world grows without me tending to it. It’s not alive. Despite all the work I’ve done, there’s still more to be done, maybe even restarting the plot from the ground up. When I think of what no one told me about writing, staring at characters designed by someone I’m not anymore is the hardest reality to accept.

—

If you think I missed something, check out parts 1-3 or toss your own hat into the ring. Give me romance tropes. Mystery, thriller, historical fiction, bildungsromans, memoires, children’s books, whatever you want! Give me stuff you wish you’d known before editing, publishing, marketing, and more.

Also, don’t forget to vote in the dialogue poll!

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #fantasy #sci fi #character design

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silantryoo · 5 months

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BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — it all falls down

jang wonyoung and kim jiwon's dorm. 3:47 pm.

WARNINGS; blood, graphic depictions of physical violence, slut shaming, threats, trust issues, implied mental breakdown, effects of gaslighting, victim blaming (towards self) (4.8k)

from an early age, naoi rei knew that love wasn't for her.

she saw the decorative hearts scattered all over her elementary school as her peers fawned over their crushes. the chocolates that hid behind heart-shaped boxes taunted the young naoi as she listened to her friends' relationship woes.

everywhere she turned, love seemed to consume all those who stood in its vicinity. her parents would mindlessly hum their wedding song under their breath. her music teacher's desk littered with all her students' drawings, except for a portrait of her husband.

love consumed everyone's time. everyone's effort.

it didn't consume rei, not directly.

rei knew her parents loved her. they would go out of their way to go to her recitals and take her shopping when she needed new clothes. they even funded all of rei's (very expensive) expenses when it came to art.

they were perfect on paper, and if rei was any other person, it would've been enough.

on her fifth birthday, they had spent one out of the twenty-four hours of the day with her. the one hour consisted of eating together, and a small, thirty-minute gift session where rei had opened about ten gifts or so.

later, they would leave to stay at a hotel on their one day off. they would drop the five-year-old at her grandma's flower shop, named after rei's mother.

on christmas when she was seven years old, rei woke up in a quiet house. the silence was deafening, and all the young naoi could remember that day was the pile of presents she opened by herself.

the seven-year-old would find out later that her parents had left her home to grab a christmas breakfast.

the day she had left to go to korea, rei had been asked one question during the entire car ride before her parents had rushed off. she then boarded the plane, first class, watching as her two check-in luggages were being brought onto the airplane.

she'd never tell them, but she wanted them to miss their reservation, just this once. just so they could hug her goodbye.

somehow, rei had become a side character in her own life, watching as everyone paid no attention to her. she knew that if she were to get erased from her own family, they wouldn't even notice. it hurt her that they wouldn't have cared.

(rei's family hadn't checked up on her since she landed.)

rei was bitter when it came to love.

she hated how she couldn't appreciate her parents' efforts because of it, and how she always questioned if she was alive out of coincidence and not want.

still, rei couldn't help but become fascinated with it.

she wondered why so many people would throw logic aside for someone who had the power to break them. she couldn't comprehend how love was able to blindside so many people.

love was an emotion. one that made her fade away.

her mind was made as soon as she stepped onto korean soil. she wouldn't bother with anything that came with the emotion, not even if her neighbor was clearly in love with one of her friends.

they weren't her friends anyway. why should she care?

"you're the girl my mom was talking about. the one that lives in the apartment across from us." rei could remember seeing the tall girl glare from behind her neighbor, almost trying to shoo her away. "i'm not sure if you saw me around before. i just staying here for the summer."

her hair was so long back then.

"my name's kim gaeul."

"i'm naoi rei."

rei had friends before.

they were all boy-crazy, hiding makeup in their drawers instead of pencils to impress their crush of the month. like her parents, they had never asked about her interests or hobbies, but rei knew almost everything about them. she could read them like the back of her hand.

she knew it was gonna be the same.

(it wasn't.)

"you like hawaiian pizza, right?" jang wonyoung, whom gaeul had introduced a month ago (alongside ahn yujin), scrolled through her phone as the other two were off somewhere in the kim residence. "i ordered some, but just so you know, yujin-unnie's gonna make fun of you."

rei had mentioned it once, offhandedly a week or two ago. she didn't know how wonyoung cared enough to remember. yujin, on the other hand, would've been too busy with gaeul to care. sometimes, rei wondered if yujin even noticed her presence.

it wouldn't have been the first time someone had forgotten about her.

"what the hell?" yujin said as she dug through the boxes. the aroma of freshly baked pizza wafted the entire house. "rei ordered these, didn't she?"

"leave her alone, yujin."

yujin laughed at the younger girl with an arm wrapped around gaeul. her cheeks were bright red, teasing the japanese for liking something so obscure (in her mind, at least). rei watched the three koreans closely, wonyoung and gaeul trying to defend her from the onslaught of yujin's comments.

each comment was directed at her. each smug grin, each teasing look. yujin had remembered, and so had gaeul, and so had wonyoung.

they could see her. they wanted to see her, despite the love that they held for someone else.

love was an emotion, not a blindfold.

for once, naoi rei didn't mind being the side character, and she would do everything in her power to make them happy, to make her family happy. she knew that one day, when the time came, they wouldn't forget her.

rei hated it, being forgotten (yet somehow, she hated the thought of ripping two people apart).

rei didn't understand love, but she knew that she wished her friends would find it.

(but somehow, it also found her.)

"who's trying to break down the door?"

wonyoung looked at the shaking door, partially terrified that whoever (read: rei) would somehow knock it wide open with just her fist.

as much as she loved rei, wonyoung refused to let the japanese girl anywhere near or inside her dorm when jiwon was around. rei had yet to give the true happenings of what went down that night with jiwon, but she could tell it was bad.

finding the young kim crying in her bed was a weird role reverse at first, but wonyoung knew how it felt like. she knew how painful it was to love someone but not have them.

"it's no one."

the banging continued, somehow getting harsher and louder with every passing second.

if there was one thing that naoi rei was good at, it was persistence.

"maybe it's yuri-unnie." jiwon muttered, rubbing her now scabbed knuckles. "she did text me this morning asking if i was okay... i think she wanted me to help her jump minjeong-unnie."

jiwon had gotten a phone call earlier that morning. from what she could tell, the sun was just starting to rise, and from the way yuri's voice had sounded, the older girl had stayed up all night.

("we don't have to tell minju. i'm sure she wouldn't mind anyways.")

jiwon could only hope that yuri hadn't gone through with her ten-step plan.

"why would yuri-unnie want to jump minjeong-sunbaenim?"

the two stared at each other, blank faces as gears turned in their heads.

"i'm gonna open the door now." jiwon stated, moving towards the entrance. she needed any way out of the conversation, even if she ended up trying to talk someone out of a potential assault charge.

the door continued to rattle under rei's fist, and she prayed that whatever happened to jiwon was minor. she hoped that the girl she hurt wasn't in pain.

the door swung open, a sense of relief washing over the japanese girl as the kim stood in front of her.

love wasn't for rei.

she was the side character, the girl who set up her friends with their exes, the mastermind behind everything. she was the girl everyone ran to, and everyone forgot when the time came. she was a plot device.

"rei?"

naoi rei didn't want to be a plot device anymore. she wanted love to want her, just like she wanted her parents to love her.

the japanese girl looked at jiwon in front of her, the latter cradling her hand. her knuckles were a blush red, forming uneven marks around the peaks. rei could see the small scabs starting to form at the tips of her first two knuckles, and the swollen bump on the back of jiwon's hand.

it looked like it hurt, and somehow, in some way, it upset rei.

rei ushered the taller girl onto her bed, ignoring the questioning stares that came from the others. she'd deal with them later. jiwon was hurt, and that was rei's priority.

wonyoung stood at the doorway, eyeing the two.

"you'd think she's the one with the wrist brace and first aid kit," yujin snickered.

she wondered if rei knew what she was doing, what she was feeling. she should've by now. the glint in her eye was enough for anyone to know.

gaeul rolled her eyes at her girlfriend. "i think it's nice that she's worried."

she just hoped rei could deal with the heartbreak that came with it.

sighing, wonyoung gestured for the two older girls to come inside. she pushed aside a foreboding feeling in her chest, disregarding all the signs that something was wrong. it was just the thermostat, anyway. jiwon always liked to turn it up when she felt overwhelmed.

as the volleyball player began to shut the door, her eyes focused on the sliver of light that peaked into the hallway.

a gray sweater. y/n's gray sweater.

wonyoung swung the door open almost immediately.

"y/n."

with a small nod, y/n smiled.

something was wrong.

y/n's eyes were bloodshot red, the thin red veins popping against the whites of her eyes. her cheeks were red from crying, wonyoung deducted. if she looked any harder, wonyoung was sure to see the dried streaks of tears on the older girl's cheeks. it was a normal site of a sad y/n, at least from what wonyoung could remember.

but there was something in her eyes. something that unsettled wonyoung.

why did it seem so familiar?

"is jiwon okay?" y/n's voice cracked out, clearing her throat in embarrassment.

wonyoung nodded lightly, stepping aside for the actress to enter. with light, but sluggish steps, the taller girl watched y/n walk passed her. it was heavy with the burden of something.

wonyoung closed the door behind her. she watched the love of her life almost morph into someone that wasn't there before, a soft smile appearing on her face as she stared at jiwon.

it was her y/n (but who was the y/n before?).

"gaeul-sunbae," y/n spoke, her voice shaking slightly. she could feel jiwon's worried gaze. "can you check her hand?"

gaeul nodded, sitting beside jiwon.

y/n could feel the guilt wracking inside her body as she stared at jiwon's injured hand. every wince that the younger girl made seemed to cut her deeply, and all y/n could do was blame herself.

it was her fault for not seeing the signs, and her fault for not wanting to. all she wanted was a friend, but never at the cost of another.

"do you want to sit down?" wonyoung's voice sounded like a melody, pulling her out of her trance.

y/n stared at the taller girl. she couldn't help but wonder if the volleyball player had ever held some type of grudge against her, a vendetta to ruin her life. maybe it was something more simple, like a hatred fueled from putting her through everything that was yoo jimin.

y/n took a breath. her wonyoung wouldn't do that.

but then again, her minjeong did.

"it's okay."

y/n didn't know what was what anymore. for all she knew, she could've been letters on a screen, strung together from the most painful parts of human life.

all y/n knew was that jiwon, minju, yuri (and yena), and her parents were real. they had to be. they needed to be.

if they were, then she'd be okay. she knew she'd be okay.

wonyoung grabbed her hand gently, the pad of her thumb tugging her back to reality. back to wonyoung.

y/n was back to wonyoung, her wonyoung. the one with big, doe eyes that cried at the movie 'UP' and hid a box of random pieces of lego in her closet back when they were dating. her wonyoung who was hyunseo's older sister, who carried the jang name with a burden that only showed in the darkest of nights.

she wanted to be wonyoung's y/n again. not minjeong's, not jimin's. wonyoung's.

"please?"

y/n hoped that wonyoung was real. she hoped that this was all real.

quietly, y/n sat down, interlacing her hand with the taller girl's. she watched as wonyoung followed, a small blush on her face as she stared at her with love.

love was consuming y/n.

"what happened anyway?" yujin hummed, not noticing the tension forming in the air.

gaeul could only sigh. her girlfriend was as dense as she was pretty, and at times like these, it was unfortunate that yujin was insanely beautiful.

"did jiwon go ballistic?" yujin's eyes sparkled at the thought of wonyoung's roommate beating someone up. "minju-sunbaenim always gave me crazy vibes, especially when you and wonyoung broke up. i guess the apple doesn't fall far from the - ow!"

gaeul smiled at wonyoung, sitting innocently as if she didn't kick yujin at full force. if rei hadn't been so worried, a snicker would've slipped passed her lips.

right now was jiwon. she'd deal with idiots later.

"don't listen to her." wonyoung smiled, and y/n could feel herself floating. "unnie's just like that sometimes."

unnie.

wonyoung had never called y/n that. not before them, not during them, not after. she called gaeul unnie. same with yujin. she even called jimin unnie at one point.

y/n swallowed.

maybe she did something wrong. maybe wonyoung saw her as lesser than them. maybe this was a sign that her wonyoung had been someone else this entire time.

y/n looked at the taller girl, grinning at her with shiny eyes.

no. wonyoung wasn't jimin or minjeong.

(but what if she was?)

"jiwon-ssi..." gaeul looked at the extent of the bruises. "how hard did you punch them?"

y/n and jiwon looked at each other, both thinking of the deep cut that the younger kim had somehow administered to minjeong.

"not that hard..."

gaeul sighed. her wrist brace wasn't going to be much use against a boxer's fracture. "you need to go to the doctor for this. i'm ninety percent sure you broke it."

rei could feel her stomach drop. she had never felt more anxious in her life, and it wasn't even about her. at times like these, she wished she had her license, just to be there with the kim at the hospital. rei knew that minju wasn't gonna let her near her sister.

rei wished she was invisible, just this once.

jiwon nodded, looking at y/n who seemed deep in her thoughts once more. something was going on inside her head, jiwon just couldn't place it. all she knew was that minjeong was the cause.

a loud banging erupted throughout the room, y/n jumping back slightly. it was harder than last time, the knocking. it sounded as if someone was ramming the door open and if any of the girls listened closer, they would hear the doorknob shaking against the frame.

y/n wondered what would've happened if she didn't see minjeong last night. she understood why, but all at the cost of her friends well being. it might've not been her decision, but she had a say.

she always had a say.

y/n felt stupid.

wonyoung gave y/n's hand a light squeeze before letting go. she headed towards the door, the pounding never stopping. if she didn't open it soon, her ra would definitely get her in trouble, especially the one on duty.

as the volleyball player began to open the door, her eyes focused on the sliver of light that peaked into the hallway.

black. specifically jimin's black jacket.

wonyoung found herself stumbling backwards as the door rammed open. she closed her eyes, waiting for the fall but all she felt was the tightening of her collar, and the graze of someone's kuckles against her collarbone.

her eyes opened, and all she saw were jimin's dark irises.

"you."

jimin was angry. she was livid. everything she did ended up back to wonyoung. if it was volleyball, wonyoung was there. if it was school, wonyoung's 'fans' were in the vicinity. even when she ate, wonyoung's face would be plastered on her water bottle.

there were some upsides though.

"where's aeri?"

yujin tensed, nearly pouncing on jimin if not for gaeul's disapproving look. she wouldn't hold back, not with her friends.

gaeul knew that, and she prayed that somehow, the situation would get diffused before it escalated.

"what the-" wonyoung tried to pry jimin's grip off of her, only for it to tighten even more. "sunbaenim, are you insane?"

y/n had never felt rage consume her. she didn't know how it felt like, in all honesty. she was used to the sadness that jimin had provided her, but somehow, it tripled. it overwhelmed her, like the love that minjeong had confessed to her the day prior, or the pressure that weighed wonyoung down.

she was free from jimin, but not her effect.

"jimin." y/n stood up, her voice hoarse. "stop it."

it felt familiar to wonyoung, in a painful way.

"you're protecting her?" the veins on jimin's head popped, her face an angry red as she stared at y/n. "you're fucking kidding me. yizhuo was right?"

y/n sighed. she was getting tired of this. of everything.

"what are you talking about?"

"you're fucking wonyoung again." jimin would always be second to wonyoung, to everyone. it didn't matter how hard she loved or how much she tried. she was her father's daughter, and she was getting his punishment. "god, you just open your legs up for anyone."

y/n wanted to scream. she wanted to yell at jimin, at minjeong to leave her alone. she wanted them to get out of her mind, and to move some place else where she would never have to think about them ever again.

all y/n could feel was red.

"i could say the same for you, jimin."

wonyoung frowned. her y/n was never angry, at least not outwardly. even if she was, y/n never stooped as low as jimin.

something was wrong. something was broken.

(wonyoung hoped she was okay, whatever it was.)

jimin tightened her grip, her eyebrows furrowing. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"it means what you think it means." it was like lava, pooling out of her mouth like an unstoppable wave. "let. wonyoung. go."

the room fell silent, and wonyoung was sure that jimin loosened her grip for a split second. the ace scanned y/n's eyes, dark and angry before jimin balled up more of wonyoung's shirt.

she could feel jimin's knuckles pressing against her neck, and wonyoung fought back an urge to cough.

"is this about minjeong?" jimin rolled her eyes. she didn't understand why it was such a big deal, especially since she loved y/n, not minjeong. "is that why you're acting all bitchy all of a sudden?"

y/n flinched back, the overwhelming sadness suddenly rendering her speechless. anger helped her forget it, and although it seemed like a plus side, it felt gross.

y/n looked at wonyoung, and guilt love began to consume her once more.

"minjeong came onto me." y/n fought back tears. she was tired of trying to figure out who's side was real, and who was there for her and not her body. "everyone comes to me eventually."

yujin tensed once more. she was sick of jimin. her hot-headedness made the team walk eggshells around her, blaming everyone but herself for all her failures.

for once, she wanted to put jimin in her place.

"now..." jimin glared at wonyoung. "where's aeri, jang?"

wonyoung didn't know. she didn't even know about the whole minjeong-jimin thing until jimin had pounced on her, but if jimin didn't know where aeri was, that meant that she was safe.

wonyoung kept her mouth sealed shut, returning an angry glare.

"where the fuck is she?" wonyoung could feel jimin tightening her grip once more, her balled up fists pressing against her trachea. she had never wanted to punch someone in her life, but jimin was making it difficult.

"answer my question!" jimin's voice boomed, and wonyoung was sure everyone could hear it.

gaeul bit her tongue. she forgot how annoying yeji's jimin was.

quietly, gaeul spoke, not wanting to anger the ace any further. "she doesn't know."

"i wasn't talking to you, you slut." jimin snapped at gaeul. y/n could feel yujin tense from beside her, wonyoung shaking her head at her captain. jimin gripped wonyoung tighter, her knuckles turning white. "where is she, wonyoung? where's aeri?"

"i don't know."

"don't bullshit me." jimin grumbled, her voice low and her eyes angry. "i know you're useless, but you aren't this useless."

jimin was like wonyoung's mother in every sense. not only was she conventionally pretty, she was demanding and negligent to those around her. she used her words as a weapon, and her authority as leverage.

but wonyoung was a jang, and she knew how to get a rise out of someone.

"i said i don't know, jimin."

jimin didn't call her father dad anymore. not only had he failed as a husband, he had failed as a person. jimin didn't need to call someone that an honorific when they didn't deserve it.

but jimin wasn't her dad. she couldn't be.

"i'm your sunbae."

she was, in everyone's eyes but her own.

"then act like it."

jimin liked the pain of punching someone.

she liked the way her hand stung, akin to a spike. she liked her knuckles bright red, a physical sight that she was doing something right. jimin didn't like to think about the pain it inflicted on others, unless they deserved it.

jang wonyoung did, however. she deserved all the pain.

jimin winded her hand back, and wonyoung was ready to take the punch head on. she needed proof that jimin had hurt someone once more, a teammate. if getting rid of jimin for the rest of her school year meant a bruised cheek, then wonyoung would absolutely tank it.

wonyoung closed her eyes and a thud could be heard reverberating throughout the room.

she felt nothing.

the volleyball player opened her eyes, only to feel herself getting pulled back as she watched gaeul and rei scramble to stop yujin. she shook them off, ignoring jimin trying to push her head away.

ahn yujin, in all her glory, landed punch after punch on the ace. she was tired of all the pent up anger that she felt towards yeji jimin. she was tired of the older girl in every sense.

yujin wasn't gonna let another version of yeji hurt her friends.

the stinging of her hands got worse and worse as her anger rose. puffs of air released out of her mouth as each strike seemed stronger than the last. eventually, jimin was gonna let her guard down, and then yujin could strike the way she wanted to.

wonyoung needed to stop this, but she couldn't get physical. her father would kill her, and her mother would send her off to america if she got suspended.

she rushed back in, her eyes wide as she tried to pull yujin off. yujin was gonna get suspended, she knew it. the amount of damage she already left was enough to down a grown man.

anger was terrifying.

she saw specks of blood fly everywhere, the captain muttering curses under her breath before getting flipped over.

jimin's blooded face glistened against the light of wonyoung's room, swelling and full of cuts. her covered arms were filled with bruises, but she didn't care. right now, she wanted yujin to pay.

wrapping one hand around yujin's neck to steady her, jimin raised her fist, slamming it down onto the younger girl's face. she could feel something splatter against her skin, and it only fueled the ace further.

despite gaeul and rei's best efforts, jimin was stronger than yujin, and there was no way they could get her off, especially without wonyoung's help.

it didn't matter anymore. if wonyoung didn't do something, yujin might die.

frantically, wonyoung wrapped her arm around jimin's neck, choking her out as she pulled the older girl off yujin. she could feel jimin clawing against her arm, and wonyoung gritted her teeth, feeling blood seep out.

yujin sat up, the left side of her face tattered into shreds. gaeul rushed to her side, the captain watching as jimin struggled to get wonyoung off.

"bitch."

wonyoung looked at y/n, her eyes wide as the older girl kept jiwon behind her. she shook her head, signaling wonyoung to let go. the taller girl nodded, her arm dropping to her side as jimin fell forward, eyes red as she coughed.

she was definitely gonna get sent to america.

as the room fell quiet, jimin's coughing and yujin's heaving seemed to get louder. wonyoung could see the specks of blood littering the floor, and could feel the stinging of her arm.

a cough took their attention away from the bloodied volleyball players.

shit. the ra woke up.

"yuqi-sunbaenim."

"the cops are on their way." she shut her eyes tightly, looking at jimin. at least the girl got a good beating. too bad the others had to face a similar punishment. "don't try to talk your way out of this."

wonyoung nodded, her head hanging low.

"can we go...?" y/n asked, jiwon wincing behind her as her hand became more painful by the minute. "her hand-"

"if you two didn't get involved, then you can go."

y/n nodded, bowing slightly as jimin finally stopped coughing, a bruise on her neck.

"wonyoung?"

y/n looked at the girl in front of her, red running down her arm.

worry encapsulated her entire being, eyebrows furrowing at the sight. wonyoung was hurt, just like jiwon. yujin was hurt, just like jiwon. somehow, y/n hurt two people in one sitting, two people who didn't deserve it.

she could've done something. she should've done something.

"we're okay."

wonyoung could always see right through her.

it terrified her.

carefully, y/n lifted the volleyball player's arm. she could see the marks deep, and an angry red.

she just wanted the pain to go away, hers and wonyoung.

"i'm okay." wonyoung whispered. y/n always got worried about things she didn't need to worry about. "i'll live."

"okay." her wonyoung was real. she was sincere, and familiar. her wonyoung wouldn't hurt her.

y/n loved jang wonyoung, bleeding or not.

"text me how it goes, okay?"

wonyoung's eyes hid the stinging with a smile, quietly admiring the girl in front of her as y/n took jiwon's hand. "i will."

y/n nodded. she trusted wonyoung, just like she trusted jimin and minjeong. it couldn't backfire, not again. not with her wonyoung.

wonyoung moved aside, ignoring jimin glaring at her (she wanted to mock the other girl, powerless against the ra of the building, but that would just cause more problems).

y/n came to a halt, turning to face wonyoung.

"oh, and," a kiss on the cheek. "for... for your arm."

wonyoung didn't care. it was worth it.

"oh!" she bit her tongue, yujin cackling in the corner as gaeul scolded her not to move too much. rei gave her a thumbs up, before giving jiwon a worried gaze. "yeah, of course."

y/n nodded awkwardly, tugging jiwon's free hand.

"jiwon," y/n ignored her stare. "let's go."

the two exited the room, jiwon wincing with every swing of her arm. y/n would have to call minju once they got to the hospital.

god, minju was gonna kill everyone in that room and then her.

"did you just kiss her?"

y/n blushed as the elevator opened.

"on her cheek, ji." y/n shook her head. "you need to stop hanging out with yuri-unnie."

as jiwon entered the elevator, y/n followed her inside. the younger girl faced away from her, cradling her hand and trying to stabilize it.

for a moment, y/n relaxed. no one was looking at her. no one had to see the turmoil she had gone through. she sighed quietly, her face dropping, eyes a void of anger and frustration, of pain and hurt.

everything was consuming her.

masterlist | next

taglist (CLOSED)!!

@serenitygrace24 @moontealemonpie @writingficsblog @kittyeij @cutieseo @limbforalimb @ahnneyong @yumtooki @lcv3lies @sserajeans @jiwoneiric @babycubchae @trsrina @xyxlyn @misumiausworld @slowlyturninggay291 @awkwardtoafault @captivq @ddeonutz @noiacha @sserabey @d7dream @slowlyturninggay291 @lvwr @perfectsunlight @juhyunsthirdwife @uzumakioden @txtbrainrot @rosiehrs @yunjinhart @skisk1 @bzeus28 @deeznutzryu @jisooftme @danistolemyheart @li0ilthecxnt @eggomi @ddoxhan @zhivaxo @sweet-dhrafts @livelaughloveyujin @luveuly @marimo-anura @yunnybunnyy @ivy-aurora @wonyoluvr

#jang wonyoung x reader #ive x reader #iz*one x reader #izone x reader #aespa x reader #kpop x reader #idol x reader #silantryo

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echo-bleu · 5 months

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Noldor Hair Headcanons (3/4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | On AO3

Some lighter Kidnap Fam content, after the downhill freefall that was the last chapter. With a dash of Finrod in Valinor.

Elrond and Elros have never had their hair braided when they end up with Maedhros and Maglor.

They don’t realize what they’re asking when Elros grabs a hairbrush and puts it in Maglor’s hand.

Maglor understands that, but decides that the twins need parental care, even though he has no right. He brushes their hair and leaves it loose at first.

But the twins have watched Maglor braid Maedhros’s hair and they soon start asking for more interesting hairstyles.

Eventually Maglor explains to them that it can only be done by family.

The twins have a whole silent conversation.

“What does it take to be family?” Elros asks eventually.

Well, braiding an unrelated child’s hair is pretty close to informal adoption.

Elros forces the brush into Maglor’s hand again.

Maglor stares.

Elrond shakes his head and runs out.

Of course, Elrond must hate them. He has every right. Sure, Elros has started to warm up to them, but that’s just because he’s affection-starved, probably. They’re still kidnappers.

Maglor is about to put down the brush and try to refuse when Elrond comes back.

He’s holding a second hairbrush.

He hands it to Maedhros expectantly.

Maedhros cries.

Maglor cries.

The twins’ hair really doesn’t hold braids very well, and they’re still kids who run around and play, but damn them if Maglor and Maedhros aren’t going to do their best.

Now all of their people can see that the twins are well-loved.

Maedhros and Maglor also proudly sport a few clumsy, wonky braids each.

They’re less wonky with time, and eventually the twins are doing their fathers’ (kidnappers’) hair as often as not.

Finrod is reembodied shortly before Eärendil and Elwing gets to Valinor. It’s too early and he’s Not Doing Well. While in Middle Earth, he was the one who let basically every one of his friends braid his hair, now he can’t stand the thought of someone touching him that way.

But Beleriandic battle braids feel wrong in Tirion. And he’s desperately trying to reckon with his trauma, with Sauron defeating him by singing about the kinslaying, so he can’t leave his hair loose like the Teleri.

And he can’t quite get the sight of Edrahil’s bloody braids spat out by a werewolf out of his head.

He wears nothing but the very strange-looking (to Amanyar) Mourning Braids he designed after Dagor Bragollach for a couple of years.

Then after an episode of really bad depression and nearly fading, he cuts his hair short.

No-braiding-possible kind of short.

While not unheard of in Beleriand (sometimes former thralls keep their hair very short, like Rog), it’s unthinkable in Valinor, especially for the Crown Prince of the Noldor.

He is stared at a lot, his reputation goes down the drain, but to Finrod it’s liberating.

He does let his hair grow out again eventually, but only when other Exiles start coming back and choose to keep the Beleriandic braid styles, and it becomes a fashion statement rather than a mark of shame.

Finarfin is Very Shocked arriving in Beleriand when he finds his (single remaining) child with her hair loose and everyone else with weird self-braided battle hairstyles.

After a battle or three where he ends up with his hair matted with blood and mud, he caves and gets Galadriel to give him battle braids.

By the end of the war he’s even learned to do them himself! Let it not be said that King Arafinwë Ñoldóran didn’t rise to his calling.

The night before sending the Elrond and Elros to Gil-galad, Maedhros and Maglor undo all of their braids. Everyone cries.

Maedhros and Maglor meant this to minimize the ‘taint’ their names would put on the twins, by making it look like they were still hostages to the end, but the twins stop on the way to do each other’s hair because one does not meet a king with their hair loose, they have manners (which the Fëanorians taught them, so they’re Very Specific Manners), so the effect is lost. Gil-galad has Questions. The twins refuse to lie.

Then, before going to steal the Silmarils, Maedhros and Maglor do each other’s hair, in a style of their father’s that they haven’t worn since the Oath.

Maglor braids a single golden ribbon into Maedhros’s hair.

They have very few pieces of hair jewellery left of their brothers’, but they use all of them.

They both know it’s the last time.

To be continued

I did some sketches for visual reference of a few of the hairstyles mentioned here, if you want to see what I'm imagining!

#noldor hair headcanons #if i am to braid my mystic crown #noldor #maedhros #maglor #elrond #elros #finrod #kidnap fam #silmarillion #silm fic #tolkien #tolkien fanfiction #echo's fanfiction

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sunflowervoltwentyeight · 6 months

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Hello! This is a fic rec of my all-time favorite fics. These fics have really stuck with me over the years, and I've read many of them multiple times. This is an ongoing fic rec, that I will continue to update. These fics are organized by word count from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Of Mates and Men by bananaheathen / @bananaheathen (630k)

In which, Louis and Harry meet as best men for their best friends' wedding... well... sort of.

Or, the one where Harry's just moved back from New York and Louis doesn't believe in romance.

Or, I guess... the one where Zayn and Liam are getting married.

Hiding Place by orphan_account (365k)

Louis never wanted a soulmate, didn’t really care for the whole Bonding thing at all, really. Enter Harry Styles, who’s wanted to be Bonded for as long as he could remember. With one fateful meeting in an X Factor bathroom, Louis gets a dagger on his arm and the realization that just because Harry is his soulmate doesn’t mean it’s mutual.

From the X Factor house to Madison Square Garden, from the Fountain Studios stage to stadiums across the world, Louis has to learn to love without losing himself completely, because someday his best friend will Bond to someone and replace Louis as the center of his universe. Meanwhile, Harry begins to think that maybe fate doesn’t actually know what it’s doing after all, because his other half has clearly been right in front of him the whole time. All he has to do now is convince Louis to give them a chance.

Or, the canon compliant Harry and Louis love story from the very beginning, where the only difference is that the love between them is literally written on their skin, and there’s only so much they can hide.

You Can Hear It In The Silence by imogenelee / @imogenleefic (234k)

When Harry Styles was accepted into a post-grad degree, he knew he could no longer afford his flat, leaving him with three options: 1) Move back into student halls. 2) Become homeless. 3) Move in with his best (and only) friend, Niall, and three of Niall's other mates. He went with the third option. But it was a close race. Shame one of his roommates reminded him why he only has one friend. If there is one thing Louis Tomlinson can't stand, it's pretentious tossers, having grown up around enough of them. If there is one thing he can't live without, it would be his friends. So he was proper thrilled to move in with his best mates and a couple of other lads. That was until he discovered one of them was the archetype for a pretentious tosser.

In the interest of seeing out the twelve-month lease without killing each other, they both try (debatable) to get along despite believing they are opposite in almost every conceivable way, each having the communication skills of a cucumber, and secrets that have no business be kept secret.

One More Time Again by orphan_account (232k)

Harry looks down to where Louis is cradling his hand between his own. Louis' hands are slender, the bones delicate, the nails bitten short. The 2-8 on the backs of his fingers is gone, but the faded scar from a skateboarding mishap in Year 7 is still there.

Harry's hand is awkward, knobby-boned and naked, no rings, no tattoos. It's too big for his wrist and his wrist too big for his arm. Yet it still somehow fits in Louis' in the painfully perfect way it always did.

He blinks back the sting in his eyes.

On the morning of his second sold-out performance at Madison Square Garden, Harry wakes up to find that he's sixteen years old, on The X Factor, and that he has a chance to make things right.

A canon-compliant fix-it fic (sort of).

Stranger Stars by shaylea (212k)

Five years ago, Africa offered a grieving Louis Tomlinson an escape from an England he couldn't tolerate. Now it's become home as he leads overland tours across the continent with his best friend and driver Zayn Malik. What's meant to be just another ordinary six-week trip from Cape Town to Nairobi turns into anything but, when future lawyer/current photographer and songwriter Harry Styles and his friends join Louis' latest set of passengers.

Given A Chance by fabby / @fabby1d (173k)

Five years after One Direction took their last tour, the last thing Louis Tomlinson ever expected to happen while on a tea run at the local Piggly Wiggly was to run into his ex-boyfriend and ex-bandmate Harry Styles.

The odds of them ever running into each other again had to be super slim, right?

Wrong.

What happens when you mix ex-boyfriends with a large serving of Small Town America? Will Louis and Harry be able to set aside their differences, or will Louis be able to stay breezy as fuck in the wake of Harry’s arrival?

(or, the one where Louis and Harry run into each other five years after One Direction ends and learn how to love each other again. Featuring: Reggie as the overweight labrador, Niall as Louis’ last grip on reality, and Nowheresville, North Carolina as the setting for Louis’ worst nightmare to come true.)

The Wonderlands by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (150k)

"Somewhere between chaos and control — these are the wonderlands."

Harry's daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis' girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair.

As You Are by Zarah5 (139k)

AU. Five years after The X Factor launched his career as a radio host and songwriter, Louis Tomlinson returns as a judge. Falling for a contestant is the last thing he needs. It's also against his contract.

The only reason Harry auditions for The X Factor is because his best mate signed the two of them up as some kind of joke. Harry doesn't get the big deal—not until he's faced with this season's judges and realises that one of them used to be his desperate, impossible teenage crush.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry / @isthatyoularry (136k)

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

Empty Skies by green_feelings / @greenfeelings (134k)

For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream – making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He’s still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

Let's Fall in Love in a Place You Want to Stay by embro (134k)

A George of the Jungle / Tarzan AU where Louis is a model who meets Wild Man Harry in the Congo. He was raised by apes and barely speaks a word of English and turns Louis' life upside down.

Love Is A Rebellious Bird by 100percentsassy, Gloria_Andrews / @gloriaandrews (134k)

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

Wild Love bypurpledaisy / @harrydaisy (130k)

“Good,” Julia says, clearly pleased to have them both uncomfortable and unable to look at each other. “Now, I only have one more question before you can go. What are you planning to do when this experiment ruins your friendship?”

“We said we’d stay friends no matter what,” Harry says smoothly, his chin lifting in defense.

“That was our one thing going into it,” Louis agrees. “Stay friends no matter what.”

Julia raises a perfectly manicured brow, “That’s all fine and good. But I hope you realize your emotions aren’t going to realize this is an experiment in the end. If one of you falls for the other and finds out those feelings are not reciprocated, you’re not going to be able to laugh it off as a social experiment. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this, I’m just hoping you’ve considered all of the possible outcomes.”

- AU: Two best friends try to date each other for forty days. It’s supposed to be fun until emotions make it complicated.

After All These Years byLifeInAColorWheel (127k)

It’s been seven years since One Direction went on hiatus and it’s been eight years since Louis and Harry broke up. They’ve been strangers to one another since then.

But, over the course of a weeklong boys’ trip, history between Harry and Louis resurfaces.

Or,

The one when Louis and Harry don’t talk, connect again years later, and reflect on why their love collapsed.

Wild and Unruly by 100percentsassy, Gloria_Andrews / @gloriaandrews (123k)

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

I'll Fly Away by juliusschmidt / @juliusschmidt (122k)

Harry and Louis grew up together in Lake County, Harry with his mom and stepdad in a tiny cottage on Edward’s Lake and Louis in his family’s farmhouse a few minutes down the road. But after high school, Louis stuck around and Harry did not; Harry went to Chicago where he found a boyfriend and couple of college degrees. Six years later, Harry ends up back in Edwardsville for the summer and he and Louis fall into old patterns and discover new ones.

ft. One Direction, the local boyband; Horan’s Bar and Grill; families, most especially children and babies; Officer Liam Payne; many local festivals and fireworks displays; and Anne Cox, PFLAG President.

Bitter Tangerine by purpledaisy / @daisyharry (119k)

Maybe it’s Niall, he reasons to calm his storming heart. Maybe he’s not actually gone for the holidays yet, maybe Harry got the dates confused. Slowly, he holds his breath and pushes the kitchen door open. The first thing he sees make him jump, a wooden spoon held out like a sword. Once his brain processes the sight in front of him, it’s less the sword that gets him than who is attached to the wooden spoon.

“Harry,” the swordsmen speaks before Harry can, his voice low and steady though confusion laces each word.

Harry’s breath catches. Every string around his heart, all the protection he spent nine months building, rips out and tears open all at once as he says, “Hi Louis.”

AU: Nine months after they break up, a twist of fate brings Harry and Louis back together at Christmas.

Never Be by cherrystreet / @cherrystreet (117k)

Monica: You've got to see her again.Ross: And why do you care so much?Monica: Because! You could get to live out my fantasy!Ross: You had fantasies about Emily?Monica: No! Y’know, the fantasy! Meet someone from a strange land, fall madly in love, and spend the rest of your lives together.

The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

Burn to Ash by bethaboo (116k)

Harry is sitting there, so fucking casual, and Louis realizes in a split second he was not ready. When Harry walked out in Detroit and never looked back, he was a boy verging on a man, still only twenty years old, but there's a man in his place now. Hard and resolute, yes, but still, for the first time in a long time, Louis can kind of see the old Harry in him. The soft, directness of his gaze, the hesitant smile he gives to Lou, the way he wrings his ridiculously large hands in his lap.

He's a little bit the eager sixteen year old puppy dog again, his innocence and sweetness resurrected miraculously, and Louis freezes in place. He was prepared to face the asshole Harry. He was prepared to meet a whole new Harry.

Louis is not prepared to meet one of the old incarnations of Harry, and it absolutely tears him up.

Or the fic where Harry spirals out of control, the band breaks up, and then he shows back up, five years later.

Mine Would Be You by crinkle-eyed-boo / @crinkle-eyed-boo (114k)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn’t intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

Tired Tired Sea by mediawhore / @mediawhorefics (113k)

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

Babydoll Blues by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain (111k)

Louis is a high profile, filthy rich label executive who has the world at his feet - a music god.. Harry is the sugar baby trying to make a name for himself singing in shady bars and hanging off the arm of Louis' biggest rival. What Louis wants, Louis gets. But what if the game gets too hot and hits a little too close to the heart?

Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose by certainsadness (103k)

“There’s something so great about watching you interact with art,” Harry said quietly. “Like, when you were giving the tour, you were just so you, and so happy and excited and funny and engrossing. But then when you’re looking at the art, when it’s, like, just for you, you get so quiet and observant.” He pressed a kiss to Louis’s shoulder. “But you still seem so you, and so happy. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you as happy as you’ve been tonight.” He kissed his shoulder again. “As you are right now.” A shiver went up Louis’s back. “I’m happy when I’m with you,” he said.

Or, Louis loved art and Harry was a masterpiece.

Emperor's New Clothes by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships (92K)

The fact that Louis’s most precious belonging was a cat with a face like thunder and an uncanny ability to cover every single inch of Louis’s clothing with cat hair was something that Louis chose not to think about too much.

or: Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

Behavioural Ecology by turtlekz / @turtlekz (81k)

Louis Tomlinson is a primatologist working with the Jane Goodall Institute for primate conservation; and Harry Styles is the photojournalist sent from National Geographic to write a piece promoting awareness about the endangered species. They meet, and love is never, ever simple, as we know.

Featuring Eli the chimpanzee, bickering humans, storytelling, and five men who come to gain an understanding of what it means to be human; all stationed in the Republic of the Congo.

Do Not Go Gentle by afirethatcannotdie / @afirethatcannotdie (70k)

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”

For a moment, they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood thrumming between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him, feels red-hot anger. And then all he feels, oppressively and desperately, is lust.

Suddenly Louis is surging up to him to press his lips against Harry’s. Harry walks the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.

“Lock — oh — lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

To the Ends of the Earth by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (68k)

During a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry at his cabin in Idaho, where long-buried feelings ignite like the fire keeping them warm.

A Yuzu Grows in Brooklyn by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (66k)

Harry is a recent implant in new york and a young chef opening a restaurant called yuzu. louis, a music teacher and broadway lover, has been around the block for a while. in a city that's so fast-paced, they're slow to catch on to each other.

The Dark and the Dentist by sunshiner / @theprizeofcoolness (66k)

“I know this song,” Louis whispers, and Harry has to lean his ear toward him to pick up what he’s saying. “It was written for people to dance to it. We should be dancing.” We can’t, Harry almost spits, but it’d be stupid of him. Louis knows they can’t. Even if he looks like any regular Parisian in their twenties, and Harry looks like any hipster Parisian in their twenties, they can’t anyway. To be fair, they probably wouldn’t do it even if they were out. But if they were two uni students, both in Paris for an exchange, meeting over fallen books at the library, or because of mutual friends, or watching Monet’s Water Lilies? “How would we dance?” Harry murmurs, mouth almost pressed to Louis’ cheek, so close he can feel his warmth. What a picture they must make, two millionaires freezing in a park and dreaming of a different life.

An account of the events of November 2014. Canon-compliant.

Time Passed by coffinofachimera (66k)

Louis struggles with their relationship as Harry grows into his identity.

Outwit, Outplay, Outlast by dancesongsoul, lookatyourchoices (60k)

“Tommo and Harry are gonna do it. I don’t know when, but they’re gonna do it. They’ve got the mattress, the pillows, everything’s in place, and they’re gonna do it. I really wish those two the best of luck.” –Taylor Swift, "Chapera"

Or a Survivor All-Stars AU in which Harry and Louis are just in this game to win the million dollars, but they end up with something better.

Featuring Harry's yellow swim shorts, Louis in snapbacks, and OT5 shenanigans.

No One Does It Better by nodibs (49k)

Harry’s an alcoholic and Louis is a bartender. The first time they meet isn’t the first time they’ve met.

Sail Away With Me by star_henderson / @star-henderson (47k)

“It’s inhumane putting four blokes in one cabin.” Louis stripped off and climbed up into his top bunk. “And why did we get the smelliest twat on the whole ship and bore of the century?”

Harry shrugged. “We clearly pissed someone off along the way.”

Louis snorted softly. “Who do I have to bend over for to get us an upgrade?”

Harry barked out a laugh. “If only it were that simple.” He rolled his eyes wistfully at Louis.

“The only way I’m going to get a two berth is to throw Payno overboard and be next in line for the deputy cruise director's job.” Louis leaned up on one elbow to look over at Harry. “Would you help me weigh his body down so I don’t go to jail?”

“Only If I can share your cabin.” Harry shuffled about, tucking the duvet between his legs, sweeping his hair up into a bun and securing it in a band. “I’m not being an accessory to murder and then still having to share with them two, no fucking way.”

Louis and Harry are part of the entertainment team on board a luxury cruise liner. They hate sharing their four berth cabin with two other guys and would do anything to get a cabin of their own. One drunken night the solution was simple. They'd just get married...

Be My Little Good Luck Charm by 100percentsassy (34k)

In which Harry is a promising amateur golfer making his debut at the PGA Championship, and Louis is a Sky Sports anchor who would really rather be commentating on footie.

The other boys are around too: caddy!Niall provides victory pints, Liam is Louis's Very Serious co-anchor, and poor Zayn just gets his face drawn on.

Have You Coming Back Again by whoknows (31k)

It’s five o’clock in the morning. Louis has a lecture at half eight. He could be using this time to study or to do his readings or to go to the gym, but - well. He doesn’t have any exams coming up, he’s not going to his seminar today anyway and he hates the gym.

Instead he’s using this time to fuck with Harry Styles’ poor little brain.

Louis jogs across the street and jabs the key into the car door. It opens easily, not that he was expecting anything else. He copied the key for a reason, after all.

He’s got Harry’s schedule memorized, more because the guy keeps following him around than anything, so he doesn’t bother looking around before climbing behind the wheel and setting his bag on the passenger seat. It’s a Monday, which means that Harry doesn’t even get out of bed before noon unless he’s planning on harassing Louis.

Loved By Your Mother by superglass / @gaymoustache (31k)

Harry stretches out like Venus with her lover, growing sleepy in the late afternoon light with a baby growing inside her. Perhaps not literally, not physically. Not exactly.

Harry struggles to come to terms with wanting to have children, and what that means for their relationship. Canon compliant, set a few years into the future

#read #favorite fics #ficrec #larry fic rec #hlcreators #1dficvillage

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lunastrophe · 23 days

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BG Lore 🌙 Possible Cure For Astarion

When I watch the scene of Cazador's death, I cannot help but wonder if after all this stabbing, there is something left of this bastard's heart. I really, really hope there is.

Because according to Baldur's Gate 2 lore, the vampire master's heart is a crucial component in the ritual that can un-vampire a vampire spawn.

It is really a shame that this piece of lore is never mentioned in Baldur's Gate 3. Especially since Jaheira - who was one of the protagonist's companions in BG2 - should totally remember this ritual and should be able to provide Tav and Astarion with all the necessary details...!

*sigh* At least I can have this headcanon:

🌙 The Vampiricus Omnibus - it is one of the ancient tomes that in Baldur's Gate 2, can be found in the vampire's lair. It contains information about something called "Plague of Teeth".

Apparently a long time ago, in the area of Umar Hills in Amn, there was a great battle against "restless dead" - vampires. The vampires were defeated, but at a great cost: many people who fought against them were turned into vampire spawns:

"Mornat de'pas Golvana Fathorn: Battles when came the dead: There came we, the army of light, armed with faith and conviction, and we did march unto the tombs of the restless dead during hours of day. With wooden edge, we struck down master and slave, though many paid for each thrust with their lives. In the fallen, there was the danger of a scourge anew, and many of the newly infected seemed doomed to walk again with dire purpose."

🌙 The people who survived the battle were desperate to save and un-vampire their comrades. They collected hearts of vampires who had turned them, and they brought them to the temple of Amaunator - ancient deity of sun, order, law and time - that happened to be located near the Umar Hills area:

"Aegato Davon: The plea: 'No more,' cried we! No more would we lose to the plague. These new fallen could not be abandoned. We had fought for our lives and theirs, and they would not be taken. To the Temple we went, to the god of Sun and Light. Amaunator would save them. Amaunator, whose touch turns shadows to fire. In the arms of the Sun god were the infected placed, and the hearts of their dark masters were laid there with them. Blood did burn, and the dead returned, but not as undead or unliving, but alive and freed from taint. Many did walk the light side home, when last the plague did fall."

🌙 The Ritual In BG2 - at some point in BG2, the protagonist's love interest can end up kidnapped by a vampire, turned into a vampire spawn and killed during one the main battles. However, the protagonist can figure out how to resurrect (and un-vampire) their lover, using the ritual from The Vampiricus Omnibus.

In BG2, the temple of Amaunator is ruined and Amaunator's power is fading - but still, it is enough to successfully un-vampire one person.

In time of BG3, Amaunator is back as a greater deity and his cult is fully restored - as is his temple, most likely - so the ritual could still work!

🌙 The procedure would be simple:

kill the vampire master and obtain his heart,

take the heart and the vampire spawn to the temple of Amaunator near Umar Hills in Amn,

place the vampire spawn in the arms of holy statue of Amaunator, along with the heart of vampire master who turned them.

And who knows... Since all the spawns in the Cazador Palace were created by the same vampire master, maybe the ritual could work not only for Astarion - but by extension, for every one of them?

So... I really hope that Astarion did not make too many holes in Cazador's heart... Just in case 🥺

#bg3 #bg2 lore #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion headcanons #pale elf

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call-sign-shark · 1 year

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Heaven In Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Beaten with guilt and shame after losing his temper again, Arthur's aimless wandering leads him to church. There she is and, after diving into her heavenly eyes, he is convinced God has sent him His sweetest angel to save his bastard soul.

Words: 2.6k

TW: Blood, a bit of angst, slight blasphemy and bad use of holy water, reckless x caretaker Inspired by the prompt "Where does it hurt? - Everywhere" by @the-three-whumpeteers

Notes:

✞ Timeline: between seasons 2 and 3

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here). Heaven’s voice and song is linked, all you have to do is click on the lyrics.

NEXT CHAPTER || Masterlist

The stumbling tall silhouette of Arthur Shelby was crossing through the thick haunting mist of Birmingham. As unwelcoming the town was during the day, it was nothing compared to night time. When sun faded behind the horizon, chased by the pale glowing face of the moon, the whole city turned into a cut-throat area. Arthur brought the neck of the bottle he was holding to his chapped lips and gulped down a mouthful of pure Irish whisky. The fire trail the beverage left behind it as it went down his throat reminded him he was alive — he could still feel something, even though it was the alcohol’s burning. An animal growl escaped from his lips when the bottle left them only for him to lean his back against one of the church’s gigantic concrete walls. A loud raven’s croak torn the silent veil of the night, making him swears. The gravel in his voice answered to the dull bird, which was watching him from a tree with his tiny and beady eyes.

« Fooking bird, laughing at me like the rest of ‘em eh? »

The raven — which was rather large for a bird — tilted its head to the side and kept staring at the drunk man with a cunning interest. Its black eyes, shining under the moonlight, seemed filled with both a wise glare and a mocking sparkle. Soon, Arthur’s curiosity for the raven’s unusual behavior turned into a senseless anger when he understood why the bird was focusing on him, his explosive rage strengthened by the incredible amount of alcohol he had drunk a bit earlier.

« It’s the damn blood is it? Stop lookin’ at me like I’m — I’m some kind of monster, or a beast or I don’t fookin’ know what else! Go to Hell! »

The bottle flew towards the raven but it did not flicker, as if it knew Arthur was not in the shape of being quick nor particularly precise with aiming. As the glass smashed into the ground, Arthur hit the wall behind him with the back of his head and let out a frustrated scream. No more cocaine, no more auto destructive behavior nor suicide attempts for two years straight, and tonight he fucked it all up. He was convinced he could get better, and God knows he tried his best to do so. Got sober from every poison he used to take, got a religious wife that was trying to turn the wolf in him into a sheep… Hell, he even brought her flowers every damn day. But then came troubles, taking the shape of his little brother, Thomas Shelby.

He asked him to do the dirty job — again.

With his calloused hands, he took another man’s life. At first Arthur thought he would not be that disturbed at the idea of killing someone, after all he had done that almost his entire life. Just one last time, he told himself, just one last time and I’ll go back to my little peaceful life with me wife.

Yet, the guilt and the shame that struck him after bashing the lad’s head against the edge of a sink until his face became a pile of squishy flesh soon became too much to handle.

As the last spurt of blood spattered his face, Arthur’s clouded mind became suddenly crystal clear: it would never stop. After that epiphany, the older Shelby brother contemplated how everyone he deeply loved tended to use him. For Thomas and the rest of the family he was a mad dog, the combat brute whose only times he could enjoy life without a muzzle were when he had to rip someone’s throat apart. For his father, he had been nothing else than a poor naive hound that would have done anything to receive his respect. As for Linda, her love was a cruel mirage he wanted to believe with all his heart — but the illusion had vanished in smoke. Whether she considered him as her personal test subject for Christian brainwashing or as a tool to get what she wants, Arthur could not tell. What he could tell though was that he knew she did not really loved him. She wanted to mould him at her will, but he was no lamb. He was a wolf, a beaten and lonely wolf, but still one. And there was no love for rabid wolves, only a bullet through the brain to cure the madness.

As his skull buzzed with macabre thoughts, whose unpleasant noise reminded him of a furious beehive, a bewitching voice pulled him out of his auto-destructive spiraling. Standing at attention and listening carefully, he came to realize that someone was singing inside the church. Arthur’s eyelids fell on his steel blue eyes and the back of his head gently rested against the cold wall behind him, the same wall he had been previously smashing it with. A sighed escaped from his liquored lips as the angelic and hypnotizing voice, slightly muffled by the church’s heavy wooden doors, plunged him into a soft but oh-so-warm haze.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold…

Lulled by the sad melody carried away with Birmingham’s cold night breeze, the swarm of raging hornets in Arthur’s brain stopped crashing against the bony walls of his skull. Another sigh — one of relief this time, for the unbearable noisy thoughts and violent buzzing had vanished. His trembling fingers, numbed by the blows he had hit his target with one hour ago and still covered with half-dried blood, slid along his temples and slicked his hair back. The utter and feral anger he had felt was reduced to void, for even his old heart had slowed its pace down in his ribcage.

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold…

The tune, embedded with melancholy, soothed his troubled mind and to be honest, he could barely believe it. When that switch in his brain flipped, God knew he was not in control anymore - even dear Linda, who still managed to hush down some of his tantrums, could not tame the beast inside when it broke free a bit more fiercely than usual. Yet, this voice did so. This stranger, faceless and nameless ghost of the night, brought him back to sanity with the sole power of her voice. The words she was singing, with her a juvenile and enchanting tone, were wrapping his heart. Arthur sniffed and fought hard against the dawning tears that were forming delicate crystal beads at the corner of his closed eyes.

If he had been the jolly sailor bold, he would have thrown himself out of the boat to join the siren that was singing.

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold.

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold…

She repeated, sadder than she previously sang.

Her song sipped through his heart and filled the cracks with molten gold. Arthur’s lips stretched in an almost invisible grin without even realizing it — By her voice, he was convinced she could repair the damaged creatures like him and make them even more beautiful than they were before they had been dragged through the trenches’ mud and shit. He had barely came to his senses, almost miraculously sobered up, when silent fell again in the church. Arthur reopened his eyes, and shook his head - Had he dreamt? Had it been the whiskey singing to him? No, he could not be that crazy right? Not quite sure if he was starting to hear voices and see things, Shelby decided that he had to found out who had been singing to his very own soul. He wanted to see her, the girl who soothed his foul heart and his twisted mind. He wanted to know, no, he HAD to know, even though his whole being was fragile like a flickering candle flame caught in a hurricane and would probably shatter in million of pieces if she turned out to be an illusion.

Gathering all his remaining strength, Arthur grabbed the handle and opened the church’s door.

[…]

A shiver ran down your delicate spine at the loud silence that floated in the gigantic and empty church. The peculiar sweet yet strong scent of myrrh, wood and frankincense filled your lungs with its holy fragrance. The vibrations of the last word you sang was still echoing in the room, swirling to the high and sculpted ceiling, from which marble angels were watching over you. If someone would have told you two years ago that the only place you would find comfort would be a church, you would not have believe it. You had never been particularly fervent about religion, but you did believe in higher forces whether they were good or bad. More than a matter of faith, the church itself was an old friend of yours. A gargantuan friend of stone, holy titan always welcoming you even in the darkest moments of your life. What you liked the most were these lonely moments at night, during which you could light up dozen of candles and sing your sorrow to the status and colorful stained-glass windows. No gossip from the parish, no believers swarming like ants within these mighty walls. There were just you, the candle lights and the soothing silence. For a few hours, you could finally find peace.

Brushing the varnished wood of the altar with your thin fingers and painted-red nails, you let your mind drift and, suddenly, the world around you vanished. You sunk so deep in the abyss of your thoughts that you did not hear the creaking sound of the heavy door opening, nor the footsteps that followed. All you could heard were the « Burn witch, burn! » that hundred of villagers screamed at you in the woeful remembrance of your past. And in spite of your immaculate porcelain skin, you bore the scars of their words deep in your soul.

[…]

Arthur made a few steps before freezing, his body refusing to come closer as if the aura around the creature that was standing back to him , right in front of the altar lightened up with dozen and dozen of small dancing flames, was too sanctified to be violated. Bathed in the soft and warm orange hue of candles, the long white hair of the woman fell down the small of her back like an ivory waterfall. Right above her the pale glow of the full moon coming through the stained-glass window formed a luminous halo around her head.

His breathing stopped, choking in his throat at such a divine vision. The gangster opened his mouth to speak but no words managed to come out. He had never been good with words anyway. Instead he moistened his lips and swallowed, his mouth dry. The white-haired girl had started to hum the same song she had been singing a bit earlier, not aware of his presence — and he did not dare to disturbing her as if he feared God’s punishment. He took another step, the wooden floor creaking under his sole.

This time the angel — because he was convinced it was one — jumped and turned around, an expression of utter surprise veiling her sweet face. Her fox eyes, adorned with two iris so fair it reminded him of aquamarine stones, scrutinized his slightest movements. She remained petrified for what felt eternity for her but, regarding him, time had stopped for good. Arthur finally inhaled sharply, coming back to life.

All those endless nights of crying, all those endless nights of praying in vain for something or someone to save him, and here you were… His salvation.

He had asked God to send him, the most desperate sinner of all, His most beautiful Angel and He had done so.

She was not just pretty. She was otherworldly and vaguely threatening. Almost ethereal in her short white dress whose cut let her naked back for the world to see.

« I waited for ya. » He whispered.

She blinked, her full and juicy lips opening with surprise.

He stuttered, looking down and decided it was better for you if he stopped talking. The gravel in his hoarse voice, as strong as it was, sounded indescribably frail. As if this tall and slightly threatening man could shatter at your single touch. Now he felt stupid, clumsy with words contrary to Tommy and his naturally eloquent and charismatic speech. In addition to the unpleasant impression of being a fool, Arthur’s own whisky-scented breath and the strong metallic smell of blood reminded him of his horrific appearance. Overcoming the awe you infused in him, panic started to kick.

You frowned, and all of sudden he did not look that impressive anymore. Swept away by the wind, your face relaxed and wrapped itself with a calm, almost placid expression. You exhaled through your nose and walked towards the gangster, who had brought his bloody hands to each side of his head and was now pulling his own hair in a desperate attempt to not lose track.

« Where does it hurt? » You asked with a quiet and soothing tone, for you were concerned about all the blood he was covered with.

Arthur raised his gaze toward the petite white-haired doll who had just pressed one of her cold little hands on his. Your ice against his fire made his legs weak and his heart missed a beat. How his breathing calmed down at your touch was a mystery, but it did. Not quite comprehending why you did not seem scared of him, he stuttered again, all flustered.

« Shhh, shhhh. Everything’s okay, take a deep breath and answer with all the time you need. » Your hand gently tightened its grip, willing to show him you were there and you were not going anywhere until he feels better.

« Where does it hurt? »

« Ev-Everywhere love. It hurts everywhere. »

His hands, his face, his body, his brain, his soul, his damn tortured soul… It all ached too much, and too constantly for him to bear anymore. E-ve-ry-where, that was all he could say because pain was all he could feel.

Without answering, you pulled him to the altar and invited him to sit on the marble stairs. The strong and fierce gangster followed you without the single physical resistance and gave in between your hands, as a rag doll. All he did was looking at you with his charming but oh-so-exhausted blue eyes as you tore the fabric of your dress near your thighs and soaked it in holy water.

« Let me wash away the blood. » Your voice echoed in the vastness of the church, enticing and haunting at the same time — enough to send a pleasant shiver down his spine. You had barely finished your sentence when you started rubbing the wet cloth against his hollow cheek to clean his pale skin from the dark red blood. Once again, he could not help watching you during the whole ordeal all the while enjoying the fresh sensation of the holy water cleansing the dirt of his soul. Not minding his stare filled with fascination, you focused on your task, brows slightly furrowed and fingers blessing him with the softest and most caring touch someone had given him.

« Yer an Angel. I swear you are eh. »

You quickly glanced at him, a sparkle of amusement shining in your cunning celeste blue eyes, before looking back at what you were doing. The weight of his gaze brought fire to your cheeks, for he looked at you like he had just realized what love was.

He looked at you, and to his greatest surprise, found Heaven in your eyes.

I'm super new in the Peaky Blinders fandom, so please bear with me... Especially since English is not my native language. To be honest I am kind of scared to post it so any comment, review, reblog or constructive criticism is welcome. Also, I'll be more than happy to meet people in the Peaky Blinders fandom! In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed some Arthur and Heaven. Still don’t know if I’ll write a full series or snipets of these two love birds.

Tags: @areyenotfondofmelobster

#Arthur shelby #Arthur shelby x reader #Peaky blinders #Peaky blinders x reader #Arthur shelby x oc #arthur shelby x ofc #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fluff #Arthur shelby imagine #Thomas Shelby #Tommy shelby #Arthur Shelby x Heaven #Heaven Shelby #Arthur Shelby fluff

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insomniumstella · 1 year

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over the water & down below (3) | bucky x avenger!reader

summary: Steve’s silly joke happened to inspire the best, or possibly the worst, idea Wanda had ever come up with — send James Buchanan Barnes and y/n on an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii. the problem? they cannot stand to be around each other.

warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, explicit language, alcohol consumption, sarcastic!bucky

word count: 3,385

taglist is down below (please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list!)

WHERE DREAMS GO TO DIE masterlist

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The temperature was scorching hot by the time they stepped foot on the yacht at barely past twelve in the afternoon. The bouncer at the dock had asked for IDs, meticulously searching through the guest list, and y/n had nearly patted herself on the shoulder for stuffing Amelie Barnes’s ID into the back pocket of her denim shorts before they had left.

The boat had two levels, the upper she assumed to be a luxurious master cabin and the lower floor for leisure, with a large wooden deck, a shaded area for relaxation and cooking, and a ritzy bar.

The two drowned in tense silence as they observed the other guests on Elijah’s rented yacht. People crowded most areas on the lower level, especially the hammock floor near the boat’s bow. Elijah and Nancy know how to throw a party, y/n noted, messing with the loose strings on the hem of her shorts, it's a shame James would drown me if I let loose.

James had peculiarly chosen the couch last night, and the conversation about sleeping arrangements had gone down without too much of a fight if one ignored the scrimmage over pillows. The woman had won, taking both the better pillows and the comforter out of pettiness, regretting it when James got ahold of the suite’s AC remote and turned it into a living hell. The first night in the Lovers’ Suite had been as sweltering as it had been sleepless, and as she stood there on the boat, the last drop of hope for the day to outplay the night slowly vanished.

“James! Amelie!” Elijah’s voice boomed out across the yacht. The politician resided on the deck, sprawled on a lounge chair. “The guests of the hour!” He gestured between the three men beside him, the drink in his hand almost spilling over. “I cannot believe the Winter Soldier is here.” Elijah smiled at them as Nancy settled into his lap. “Come over here.”

The Winter Soldier is here, she cocked her head to the side, what a bizarre choice of words. It’d be reasonable for him to be interested in James, but Elijah Williamson was abnormally engrossed by the Winter Soldier for a Secretary of Defense. She found herself reflecting on last night’s dinner. Elijah had appeared attentive to most of Bucky’s domestic stories, especially the pesto eggs recipe, she thought, but he had also questioned James about weapons, former missions, and Steve? Why would Elijah inquire about Steve?

“Amelie,” Nancy raked her eyes over y/n’s covered form when they had reached the group, “I sure hope there is a bikini underneath the clothing.” She herself had only a bathing suit on, her skin silky smooth underneath the scorching sunlight.

“There is.” She flashed a sheepish grin without making an effort to remove neither the shorts nor the tank top, her body frozen in place.

She had never been an insecure woman or someone who’d shy away from tight dresses and mini skirts, but she’d rather choose the option of keeping the tiny red bikini covered than having James see it. Enduring a ‘things were much different back in my day’ monologue had not been on y/n’s to-do list.

“Good!” Nancy nodded in delight. “Strip down, the two of you. This is a party, not a business meeting.”

In some ways, it was.

James awkwardly shifted from one foot to another, “it’s for the best the shirt stays on,” a weak chuckle slipped past his lips. “It can be quite jarring.”

The Winter Soldier had always been a faded scar, and Bucky had always been Steve’s best pal from the forties, but James Buchanan Barnes was a blank spot she had never attached meaning to. James was an entirely empty canvas. If she’d recall memories of the field, she’d see a strict sergeant, if she’d recall memories of life back at the compound, she’d see an annoying prick who’d push her in training until she’d break and snitch to Tony whenever she’d use his luxury cars. If she recalled memories of James, as he was, and without barriers between them, she’d see nothing, except a faint shadow of a man who had always been too close yet too far for a meaningful relationship. She had nothing of substance until this moment — James was an insecure man, perfectly hiding behind a wall of forced toughness.

She placed a tender hand on his arm, pity clawing at her bones, “I think scars tell the stories of who we are,” the ghost of a touch lingered on his skin for a moment too long, “the good, the bad, and the space in between”, a gentle smile etched itself onto her lips, “my handsome, handsome husband."

He was not her husband, but the painting of scars on his shoulder had never taken away from his beauty; that she could grudgingly admit.

It was all for show, James understood, yet he foolishly allowed himself to get lost in her softened expression and gracious words. I think scars tell the stories of who we are, he recalled y/n’s words, and though his story had been nothing, but rotten for seventy years, the latter part of his protracted life, had been spent on courageous actions, he’d like to believe. Good, bad, and somewhere in between.

It was abrupt, yet it happened. James neatly folded the t-shirt before hanging it over the lounge chair’s backrest and took a seat, leaning back with his palms firmly pressed against it. She had only ever seen him shirtless once, and the accident had been wiped clean from her memories, whether subconsciously or otherwise, but witnessing James in just a pair of swim trunks painted him in a different light. She had to find a way to extinguish this light, this newfound fire, inside her and do it quick. Did James always have bulging muscles, or a defined Adonis belt, or—

No, she stopped herself, horror burning beneath her skin, James is not attractive.

“Amelie?” A simple word carried heavy meaning. Too much of it.

The woman had been busted for checking James out, and if she trusted the universe after the ‘James replaced Steve on a vacation in Hawaii’ stunt, she’d ask for the earth, or the ocean below them, to swallow her whole. Except she didn’t, and the only way out was to flash the group a sheepish grin.

“Sometimes it takes a while,” James narrowed his eyes in amusement, “let me help you,” his hands were unbuttoning y/n’s denim shorts before she could protest.

She was grateful he abstained from speaking of her longing gazes on his exposed body in the moment, but y/n was almost certain he’d tease her all about it as soon as they stepped foot off the yacht. If there was to come a day where James would need y/n to do something she would absolutely protest against, a time bound to inevitably arrive, he had gotten enough blackmail to pressure her into acting upon unspeakable actions. The woman's newfound family, the Avengers, would certainly believe she had lusted over James more than James partaking in praise kink activities. His icy demeanor would make it impossible for others to consider him ever calling y/n a good girl. Shit, she thought, shit, the curse word bounced around in her mind for a second time, universe, if you’d like to apologize, this would be the perfect opportunity to split the ocean underneath my feet.

Heat drenched her cheeks as he nonchalantly slid the material down her legs and then later helped y/n step out of it. She reached for her shirt, hastily removing it because she couldn’t possibly handle the contrast of cool metal and sizzling touch on her exposed skin any longer.

“Sit on my lap,” James insisted. It’s all for show, the glimmer in his eyes read, and she could feel all pity for the man vanishing.

“Would it get me a good girl?” The words slipped out before she could catch them. Elijah chuckled, the sparkle of merriment in his eyes urging y/n for an explanation. “James has a thing for good girls in the bedroom.”

“Young and in love, right?” The carefree strokes of his stare melted when he had scanned over the group’s faces and returned to glare at her. “Besides, you enjoy it.”

And she did, not with Bucky, for that would be disgusting, but certain men had previously called her a good girl in the bedroom, and she had shamelessly basked in the affection.

Nonetheless, y/n bit her tongue and allowed James to bring her into his lap. A weak cough escaped past his parted lips once their bodies made contact. Alike y/n, fuck, he mentally cussed, but it was for an utterly different reason than blackmail. The soldier's body had betrayed him.

“I’m Mickey,” one of the men began speaking, and, “Hansen,” promptly disappointed y/n with his last name.

Mickey Mouse would be a better fit, she thought as the waiter brought a round of drinks.

The woman’s attentiveness in the group’s conversation had gotten lost after the second Moscow mule and, to her revulsion, the bearded man sitting left to Elijah had only been half the reason.

The other half kept her back pressed against his muscled chest — she could feel him, all of him, clenching around nothing when he’d adjust positions. Never had she been this close to James, skin against skin, the weight of her thighs resting against his own; even the worst of nightmares she had experienced didn’t compare. And yet she found herself frozen in his lap, subconsciously, or perchance consciously, wanting to stay in the most unlikely of places, with his arm draped across her waist.

James had not made a move to rid of y/n either, his fingers dancing against the skin of her pleasantly warm, sun-kissed thighs.

“You are not as subtle as you may believe.” His voice was gruff as he whispered into the crook of her neck.

The soldier was correct, she had not been entirely subtle about the traitorous fire within the pit of her stomach, but neither had the bearded man about his line of work. It was a party, to most of the people on the yacht, and he had gotten comfortable, slipping in his wording on several occasions.

It was Steve who had taught y/n the importance of trusting one’s instincts. In the field, a split-second decision could either save—or destroy—it all, and if her suspicions were to be true, she would’ve been speaking to a former HYDRA operative for the last hour without blinking an eye.

“Mark,” Elijah turned to the bearded man, and she made a mental note of his name, “is excellent at snorkeling.”

One of the other men laughed, the sound of it droll and booming, “everyone is great at snorkeling.”

“I’d disagree,” she chimed in, “fish tend to be vigilant around James,” y/n teased, voice laced with faux amusement, “as soon as he steps a foot into the ocean, it becomes vacant.”

A dry chuckle slipped past his lips, “only because I do not feed them,” he leaned down to place his empty cup on the table, inadvertently thrusting up and into her. It was a good thing they couldn’t see each other’s faces. “This one always brings a bag of bread.”

The answer was a hint, that he did not, get her hint. C’moooon, fish tend to be vigilant around James, James. Perhaps she could’ve been less indirect.

“No!” She shook her head, the reaction earning a genuine laugh from Nancy. “Fish are smart, and can sense that your favorite dish is salmon.”

Is he stupid or am I? She had never thought she would ever have the thought manifest itself in her mind, but James and I desperately need to talk and redefine our game plan.

Her theory could be quite preposterous and quite false, but the case had been closed, Elijah Williamson had been proclaimed as an innocent man, so if it led the two agents to nowhere, the worst-case scenario would be disappointment. The best scenario? The ridiculous theory could lead to a path of Elijah Williamson and Mark Basso working together. Perhaps James had been wrong, and the court had been right — HYDRA was destroyed, except for a few independent members, who had not been prosecuted.

She has always had a difficult time with names, in fact, it had taken Elijah’s snorkeling comment to recall Mark’s, but she would never forget a face. She had his thick graying beard, deep-set eyes, and pointy nose burned and then later buried in her memories from when she had accompanied Steve to a mission, staying behind to monitor security cameras. It had been at a foreign gala, with Mark Basso managing to stay out of Steve’s sight, but not y/n’s. They had not been in Germany for Mark, at the time, but she had observed him, both out of boredom and curiosity, for hours, before the captain needed help and she had switched into a vigilant agent once more.

“I do not like salmon,” James scoffed, and she elbowed him in the ribs before he had the chance to say anything else.

“Yes, you do.”

The sharp edge of her tone had him confused, but he refrained from questioning. “Only when she makes it,” he declared instead, “pesto makes it mouthwateringly good.”

James would end up drowned in the ocean if he mentioned pesto again, she decided. Perhaps suffocated by the superior pillows she had taken without an ounce of guilt, or perhaps he’d go mysteriously missing in Hawaii, and she’d return to New York dishonestly shaken from the disaster of it all.

It wasn’t y/n’s lucky day as Nancy stood up, gazing at her. “How’d you feel about another drink and some lady talk?”

She’d feel great, but it’d be nowhere close to the pleasure of a missing Bucky Barnes and an absence of training sessions. She abandoned his lap nonetheless, trailing after the woman. “If it’d be margaritas, count me in.”

They met at the stairs leading to the master cabin. She sincerely hoped James had done any form of investigation because she had wasted the last half hour gossiping with Nancy.

Though she was not a vast gossiper, she had enjoyed chatting with the woman, especially when the conversation had steered away from aimless rumors and towards her role as a human rights lawyer. Nancy was an incredibly intelligent person, with arguably great wit and judgment. If her theory was to prove true, she’d desire nothing more than for Nancy to have excluded herself from Elijah’s treacherous actions. Perchance some desires were not meant to be granted.

“I fucked up,” was not a sentence she wanted to hear from James.

“As long as it’s not another anniversary dinner,” the woman sighed, glancing around the yacht, and was glad nobody batted an eye in their direction.

“It could potentially be worse,” he scanned over Elijah’s guests, as well, before his eyes found hers, “alright, it’s significantly worse.”

She had never witnessed James as flustered as he stood in front of her that very moment, if flustered was even the word to describe him. Hues of pink had glazed over his cheeks, and though the sun was scorching, she had an idea it had nothing to do with his frazzled expression and reddened skin. Significantly worse could indicate plenty of things — dance lessons, for she wanted to keep her toes unbruised, or a photoshoot, for she needed zero evidence of forced romance and a false honeymoon.

The woman raised an eyebrow as if demanding the answer of what could be significantly worse than spending a, quite unromantic, if she said so herself, and she would, dinner together.

If Elijah had not shown up, perhaps they would have gone down a path of brief conversations and tense silences as they each devoured massive bowls of shrimp pasta. That would’ve been fine, but the politician had to celebrate his anniversary at The Maui Resort, pressuring the pair to stage a plausible performance of husband and wife, which consisted of fabricated loving glances and unsettling touches. Elijah had to conclude the two as a legitimate, endlessly in love married couple, and Elijah just had to invite them to a yacht party, where James had burned with lust for the woman he despised, almost hoping she had returned his concerns.

“I’ve agreed to join Elijah and Nancy for a couples massage.”

Oh.

“That is not worse than the dinner,” she grinned, “though I’d doubt they have a room suitable for a throuple.”

James was less than amused. “A couples massage, as in they get a room, we get a different room, and meet at the lobby for tea after the fiasco.”

Shit.

Perhaps James had not read the joyous pamphlet of Passionate Honeymoon Activities at The Maui Resort, but she had. She had read through it all, and to say that the couples massage, which was not, heartbreakingly, separate massages, sounded like an absolute hell, would be an understatement.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” the words dripped with poison, “what the fuck possessed you to agree to a couples fucking massage?!” If she had been any louder, heads would’ve turned toward the two.

“We need to get Elijah alone,” was all James could offer, “he doesn’t speak much of HYDRA with people around.”

HYDRA doesn’t exist, she thought, abstaining from voicing her inner voice. Forget James, she had to get in touch with Steve and quickly. If Mark Basso was, as she had previously assumed, a former HYDRA operative, the two were in far deeper trouble than both had estimated. Unless, of course, he just happened to frequent galas in Germany where heaps of criminals would gather for less-than-honorable endeavors.

“James,” there fell his name again, “are you aware of the hotel’s version of a couples massage?” She questioned, narrowing her eyes.

He refused to back down, holding eye contact. “Yes.” It was an obvious lie.

She chuckled dryly, “if you wanted to slather my body in coconut oil, you could’ve just asked. Besides, his wife will be there, so you won’t have Elijah entirely alone and Nancy Williamson is innocent as it stands. In fact, so is he.” She sincerely wished Nancy was blameless despite meager chances. Bucky stayed silent, which prompted a corner of y/n’s mouth to curl up into a snarky smile, “the slathering my body in coconut oil part wasn’t an actual invitation.”

“Tell me doll,” he leaned against the guard rail, sarcasm clinging to his tone, “why would I ever take it as such? Unless,” James glanced at the broad horizon before his eyes found hers again, “we have spent five years maliciously clashing without a solid cause, so we should stop pretending and kiss.” His voice retained less mockery than she was comfortable with.

The woman had no desire for James to kiss her, but the deeper into her memories she dug, the fewer reasons for their hostile relationship she could think of. Yes, he had been an asshole, and he had become inhospitable first, but if anyone else had realized why, they had failed to inform her.

Steve, she thought, I have to call Steve.

Captain America was an objectively unbiased man, but he and Bucky Barnes were best of pals, brothers since childhood who had been miraculously reunited after seventy years. The hardships of the past and the future had only gotten them closer. Though he would never blatantly display favoritism amongst the people who worked at the compound, it was clear he had a favorite of a single James Buchanan Barnes. She had zero clue if James had been planning to inform Steve of Elijah or not, but she had to get in contact with the captain first because he’d, presumably, believe Bucky over y/n as unfair as it was.

Mark Basso was not a fight she could win alone — she needed Steve’s help and advice on more matters than she had once considered.

TAGS:

@legohe4rts @missvelvetsstuff @browneyedgirl22 @gr33nleo @thatrandomcatoverthere @fiftywhore1 @buggy14 @nt-multi-fandom @physically-im-fine @marygoddessofmischief @fuckthealarm @nyutasgirl @cjand10 @stokzr @jesterstrange @youtubersshipper @oneshotofvodkaa @emily-roberts @desert-fern @itsyellow @love-of-less

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky series #bucky barnes series #bucky x you #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader series #bucky barnes x reader series #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x female reader #insomniumstella #Where Dreams Go to Die #where dreams go to die bucky #where dreams go to die bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader

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peachsayshi · 1 year

Note

Inexperienced!reader sending playboy!geto nudes😋

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ playboy geto x virgin female reader (part 3) ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wc: 5.8k

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ part 1 / part 2

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

notes: in honor of sugu’s birthday - here’s an update! I cannot stress enough how much I love writing about these two! This might be one of my favorite geto pieces that I've written so far - thank you for sending over this request, nonnie! I'm sorry it takes me so long to get through them sldkfjslfj 🧡

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: character mentions: shoko and gojo, virgin reader; lovesick geto & reader; sending nudes; clitoral stimulation; foreplay; heavy petting; smut; light angst in the beginning (mostly backstory); mentions that reader gets jealous; just the tip (?); oral mention (m receiving)

When Shoko introduced you to Suguru Geto, she gave you the following warning: “don’t fall for his bullshit or you’ll be reduced to a number.”

You found it strange that she talked about one of her best friends in such a derogatory manner, but Suguru’s womanizing reputation accompanied him like a shadow. Shoko felt it was necessary to warn you of his behavior considering he would fuck anyone who caught his interest.

This was the reputation that you tied to a man whose face you didn’t know, and it wasn’t until you met Suguru in person that you began to understand the allure surrounding his character.

Geto’s beauty is breathtaking, mirroring a night sky littered with bright constellations. When he laid eyes on you for the first time, he bypassed his way straight to your soul. He held your gaze while he talked, speaking with a natural confidence that dominated the conversation. As the evening carried on, you were convinced that the word to describe how attractive he is didn’t exist yet.

You could tell that Geto knew exactly what kind of reaction he could conjure with a simple smile.

You almost forgot about Shoko’s cautionary words until you saw the evidence of her claims displayed as faded hickeys on Suguru’s neck. He wore those marks like a badge of honor, and the lack of shame he felt over displaying them had you wondering if he even cared that anyone could notice.

“He told me he thinks you're cute,” Shoko admitted to you a few days later, and you tried really hard not to react over how much that flattered you. “I would ignore him though. He’s not exactly boyfriend material.”

You swore to yourself that you would be careful the next time you hung out with Suguru, but you quickly learned how difficult it would be to deflect his advances. As time passed you got to see the man in his truest form. You grew to admire his loyalty and consideration towards his friends which was soon extended to you the closer you bonded with the group. His witty sense of humor had you bursting into fits of laughter, but it also paralleled with a serious side that sucked you into long hours of deep conversations.

Then one night while hanging out at Gojo’s house, you found yourself in the most precarious situation. You had no idea what exactly occurred that had you and Suguru all alone in the living room, while the rest of your friends disappeared somewhere within Gojo’s large estate.

You remember being on opposite sides of the couch to suddenly nuzzling closer into Geto’s space. The man was a dangerous magnet, and throughout the night had been pulling you into him without you even realizing it. Your heart rapidly raced when he complimented how beautiful you looked, and your lungs stopped working when you felt the tips of his fingers lightly hold the bottom of your chin as he decided to close the gap of space with a kiss.

The brush of his lips over yours was enough for you to forcefully reel your heart out of that lustful haze. At this point you knew you liked Suguru far more than you anticipated. While kissing him would satisfy many of your desires, you weren’t willing to gamble your first experiences on a man who couldn’t reciprocate your feelings in return. The ache just wasn’t worth it, especially when Suguru had the title “heartbreaker” stamped across his dreamy face.

Instead, you pressed four fingers against his mouth and shifted your gaze down to your lap.

“Please don’t kiss me if you don’t mean it, Suguru,” you pleaded, unaware of how his face fell at the sound of your small voice.

Only after you started dating did he admit how much it hurt hearing you say that. His only intention was to kiss the girl that he’d grown to like, but he didn’t realize how insincere he came across until he saw your reaction. He knew he had to change then, especially since he’s made it quite clear to everyone around him that he wasn’t interested in serious relationships.

Nobody believed that he would be able to commit, but Suguru proved them all wrong. You can never take away the effort he put in to earn your trust just to make this work. You’ve both come so far since the early days of your little cat and mouse game - the question of “will they, won’t they” no longer concerning anyone around you.

That’s why suguru isn’t willing to lose you over stupid reasons that couldn't be talked out, and in turn you vowed that you would never use his past as a dagger in your relationship.

This trust is what created a perfect harmony between you both, but there were still unexpected circumstances that tried to cut the sweet melody.

A few days ago, you and suguru were enjoying a peaceful afternoon together. You were making plans for his birthday when halfway through the discussion decided to take a break and stop by the new cafe that had just opened up across the street from where he lived.

The first thing you noticed about the interaction was the immediate way suguru tensed up upon greeting the barista. The pretty, pretty girl was taken aback by his presence, her voice breaking when his name left her and she nearly knocked over the tip jar resting by her side.

Suguru nervously scratched the back of his head, an unsteady laugh escaping him as he stated that “it’s been a while” since they last saw one another.

Meanwhile, the barista blushed furiously as she jotted down your orders. You caught her attention flickering to Suguru’s tight hold on your waist when he pulled you even closer to his frame. Your boyfriend's calm demeanor was soon replaced by fake enthusiasm. He was trying really hard to glaze over the awkwardness of small talk by being casual but you could tell that he was flustered.

Despite his discomfort, there was a softness in his eyes when he looked at her - a natural recognition that unintentionally isolated you from the picture. You didn’t even have to ask what happened between them because you could see the passionate memories flicker across the counter through a mere exchange of glances.

That’s the thing about Suguru - his eyes are so expressive; they show the sincerity of his feelings for you and the brewing heat of his desires. They glow vibrant whenever he is happy and dim during moments of sadness. They expand as his anger rises and deepen on days when his sleepiness won’t leave him. There was so much that his eyes shared with you, but this exchange was new because Suguru has never regarded you like that before.

You weren’t bothered by any of it.

The hard truth is that you had to acknowledge the fact that there were boundaries surrounding the intimacy of your relationship. While you refused to dangle Suguru’s past over his head, you still couldn’t deny that it played a part in why you’ve been maintaining these boundaries for this long.

You had your own concerns that worried you - what if Suguru loses interest the second he fucks you? What if this was just something he needed to get out of his system...a conquest in which he wanted to walk away victorious?

Even though these were ugly manifestations of your own anxieties, they still plagued your thoughts. You always wrestled with your guilt for reducing your boyfriend’s character to a hollow shell, but you still didn’t have an answer as to why you were so different from everybody else.

The barista reminded you of that very fact. Her infatuation over Suguru was written plainly across her face. You empathized with her feelings because that’s exactly how he affected you. You were absolutely besotted by this man, and knew that he had the hearts of many others tucked away underneath his mattress.

Her response towards him poked at your jealousy. You suddenly had an overwhelming sense to stake your claim over him. You wanted to interject the entire exchange by pulling him in for a kiss just to show her that there was zero possibility of any seconds chances coming her way. Alas, these were childish thoughts, ones that would only gratify you but make it worse for everyone else involved.

You decided to sweep it under the rug before intervening at the end. You thanked the barista when she handed you your drinks before leaving a few notes in the tip jar as you said your goodbyes.

Being the gentleman that he is, Suguru profusely apologized about the situation afterwards. He was far more concerned with your own feelings, and vulnerably admitted that he didn’t know how to handle running into his past lovers with you around.

“You know I'm not trying to fuck this up.” he adamantly claimed when you both entered his apartment, even though there was absolutely no reason to fault him for what just happened.

For once you found yourself consoling him. You kissed his cheek, the muscles easing all over his handsome face and murmured that there was nothing for him to worry about. His broad shoulders fell with relief, and he held your face before pulling you back in to capture your lips for another kiss in acknowledgement of your kind remarks.

“You don’t have to worry either about anything, or anyone.”

Whatever envy you carried over his contemplation for this other woman dissipated when Suguru locked into your eyes. Your heart skipped over every other beat, something about his expression coiled hot strings around your veins. This was a look that thrilled and scared you at the same time, but you weren’t able to piece together exactly what it meant.

For the first time in the duration of your relationship, you found yourself countering your own decisions.

What exactly am I waiting for?

After everything that happened, were you really going to turn around and keep him at an arm’s length? How many more tests did Suguru have to go through to prove to you that he was yours? How many more reasons did he need to give you that there was nobody else he was interested in?

The instant you returned Suguru’s kiss is when you realized that you had been holding back while your boyfriend has been making extraordinary efforts to move forward. The recent incidents you both experienced proved that you desperately pined for one another, and by now you understood how significant it would be when you have sex together for the first time.

You wanted more, that is why you decided that you would no longer allow reason to guide your judgement on this particular subject and finally chose your heart to take the lead.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⋆ ★

Gojo had dibs on Suguru the night before his birthday as part of his tradition with Shoko, where the trio all rang in his birthday together at midnight.

Gojo asked if you would like to join, but you had other plans to put in place.

Suguru was yours from the afternoon onwards; you were setting the scene for his arrival, quite aware that your impending surprise would be put a twist to his day.

One hand lightly traces the curve of your neck while the other twirls the string of your silk black robe. Your gaze travels over the silhouette of your body reflecting against the mirror, and floating in the background were strings of black and silver balloons that decorated the ceiling of your bedroom.

You angled your body in front of the mirror, taking a few strides back until your legs pressed against the edge of the bed. Your heart started thumping in your chest, your stomach twisting into itself as you slowly began to undo the robe. Pulling the silk fabric apart, you shivered when the cold air brushed along your torso.

You barely recognized yourself in your brand new lingerie set. The bra had a unique design, from the front it looked like your chest was covered with an enormous emerald bow. The high cut underwear had two tiny strings that pinched the flesh of your hips, and accentuated your curves perfectly.

You plop onto the mattress and reach for your phone.

Recalling the exact position from the boudoir photo you found online, you decided to replicate the woman’s pose by extending one leg out and bending the other as you twisted your hips slightly to the left. You hooked your index finger around the string of your underwear, and puffed out your chest to ensure the peaks of your breasts were prominent in the shot.

You can’t muster up the courage to show your face in this lewd position, and decide to keep the phone safely in front of you to hide your expression. With a few subtle adjustments you began snapping your photos, arching and writhing to change your angles after every couple of shots.

For the next set of pictures, you decided to remove the bra and change your position. With the side of your body facing the mirror, you pressed your chest into the mattress and raised your hips. You held the strapless bra in your free hand to emphasize that you were, in fact, naked at this very moment. You even went as far as to boldly drop the bra altogether, hovering your chest just a little bit higher off the mattress to give suguru a taste of what’s to come.

The entire process felt like an outer body experience.

Once you finished, you swiped through each individual shot, picking your favorites before editing the photos just to adjust the lighting and color.

You wanted the image to look as striking as possible.

Your throat tightened as you opened up your chat with Suguru. You know that he’s still asleep, trying to recover from the night’s festivities. The last messaged you received was around 3 AM, where he informed you that he made it safely back home.

Just got in. I’ll see you tomorrow.

A brief moment of insecurity takes over, psyching you out entirely but with a quick huff you brushed it aside before typing up your reply. This is something you’ve both been looking forward to for a while, and you were confident in taking the first step over the dividing line.

Morning, birthday boy -I can’t wait to celebrate with you xo

You sent the text first, then followed up the message with the photos.

Blue light brightens your anxious face, and you hated knowing that you’re going to have to simmer with anticipation until your boyfriend finally wakes up.

Minutes pass but it felt like hours. You nervously paced around the bedroom doing minor tasks to keep your mind off the photos. You fixed yourself back to your initial attire, before heading over to the kitchen to check on the cake stored in the fridge. You then called Suguru’s favorite ramen bar to confirm reservations for tonights dinner, before finally proceeding to wrap up his second gift which was a new silver chain.

You returned back to the bedroom, placing the gift on your side table before finally satisfying your worries and picking up the phone.

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach when the saw that the message had switched from “seen” to “read” - but there was no response.

After thirty minutes of silence your chest tightens with regret. You thought Suguru would appreciate your daring approach, but when you tried to reverse the situation in your mind, you realized how mortified you would probably be if he were to wake up one day and decide to randomly send you nudes.

You didn’t even know if this was his kind of thing. You’ve never actually spoken about it before and just assumed with how open he was with his own sexuality that he would be elated by the pictures.

How could you drop the ball on him without taking into consideration that up until this point the man has been nothing but patient with you?

He didn’t deserve this.

Before you allow yourself to fall in such a downward spiral, a frantic knock comes through from your front door.

“Just a minute!” you call out, eyes darting between the cupboard and drawers as you start looking for a pair of sweats.

“It’s me, open up.”

Suguru’s reply had you running on autopilot with your anxiety on full display. You quickly left your bedroom and make your way over to the entrance of your apartment. Your fingers clench into a tight fist, your nails imprinting crescents in your palms as you nervously opened the front door.

Suguru is panting; breathing heavy like he’d just ran a marathon. The layers of his hair were falling over his face, unable to stay in place from the way he tied his messy bun. Your gaze shifted to his clothes, a mix match of grey that didn’t quite put together a proper outfit. He was wearing gym sweats along with one of his favorite t-shirts and slides with uneven socks. Your brows lifted in surprise, but as you parted your lips to ask why he looked so disheveled, the corner of his mouth twitched into a sinful grin.

Suguru straightened his spine, showing off his dominating height as he took a few steps forward. He closed the door behind him, naturally reaching for your waist and his touch instantly reminds you of the indecent outfit you currently had on.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack...” he breathes, pulling you into his broad frame and the force of his strength makes you squeak.

“You didn’t say text me back, I-I thought you didn’t like it-” you blurt out the second your voice finds it’s clearance.

Suguru doesn’t let you finish. One hand moves to hold your face, while the other tightens its grip around your waist. His lips are on yours instantly, it’s a soft kiss at first until he parts your mouth and slides his wet tongue along yours. You reach for his wrist, tracing your fingers along the smooth beads of the bracelet you bought him when you first started dating. Your nerves wither away, and he only leaves your sweet mouth when he feels you melt into his embrace.

“Are you supposed to be my present? Or was it just the photos?” he chuckles adorably then follows his question by kissing the tip of your nose.

“I��d like to be,” you mumble against his lips. “I just want to make this day special for you, Sugu.”

His hand travels to the nape of your neck, and he holds you tenderly as he presses his forehead against yours. He sighs with relief, closing his eyes for a moment and keeping his smile.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to handle you spoiling me like this,” he teases, then reaches for your hand to guide you back to the bedroom.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⋆ ★

Suguru’s fingers knead your plush thighs straddled over his hips. I’m so lucky, he thinks, I’m so lucky you’re mine. He rests his head against the bed frame, the strands of his freed mane circling his face like an obsidian halo. He hums at the sight of your perked breasts pushed up by your bra. His thumb and index finger rub the satin fabric of the bow and his eyes twinkle with appreciation. He’s quite pleased that he’s earned this…that’s he’s earned the right to see how cute you look like this.

“Look at you,” he whispers in disbelief, snaking his bottom lip between his teeth as he studies you with care. His index fingers hook around the strings of your underwear, and he retracts the material before releasing it just to hear the band snap against your skin.

You reach to squeeze his shoulders in response.

“Do you like it?” you ask politely, referring to the lingerie set even though your boyfriend’s mind is focusing on other things.

Suguru sighs once more before circling his arms around your waist.

“I like you. Everything else is just the cherry on top...”

He arches forward to softly peck your collar bone, then guides his mouth up your neck to plant another kiss underneath your jaw.

"I can’t stop taking you in,” he mumbles. “You’re perfect, sweetheart. You’re so perfect...”

You exhale quietly. You can feel your body turn into liquid in his embrace as your stomach flutters. You reach for the nape of his neck, lightly scratching the back as you open your lovestruck eyes to soak in his beauty.

“You are too, Sugu.”

Your precious reply has him searching for your lips to taste your honeyed voice, and he happily swallows the pretty moan that follows. Your fingers thread between the strands of his hair as you allow him to kiss you with unrestricted passion. Tangled tongues interchange with tender bites when two hands suddenly reach for the hooks of your bra. You don’t stop Suguru when he unfastens the band or when he slowly pulls the material away from your chest. You’re too busy devouring his kisses like a hungry kitten while your arousal pools between your legs from the sensation of his mouth alone.

You can’t imagine it feeling better than even though this is just the tip of the iceberg.

“I need to know...” Suguru interjects, his breath hot and heavy as he tries to even it out. “I need to know when you want to stop-’

“Don’t wanna stop,” you pout with a shake of your head, your mumbled reply laced with disappointment when he tilts his head away as he raises one brow.

“Are you sure?”

“Mhmm, more than anything….”

“But…what changed your mind?”

You track a line down the bridge of his angular nose, the pad of your finger tapping his cupid’s bow and you lean in to retrieve the kiss you sought out earlier.

“You did.”

“Huh,” he contemplates, “I guess...I guess we are doing this then…”

“Yeah...” you sigh into his mouth as you gently rock your hips. “I guess we are.”

Suguru swallows the lump in his throat, nodding his head mindlessly at your consenting words.

“Fuck, okay…can-can we just slow things down for a second...”

He leans back slightly so he can get a better look at you and something twists in his lower belly from your dazed expression. He motions to hold your face in his hand, his thumb swiping over your puffed bottom lip and dragging across a tiny string of saliva. He nearly melts into the mattress beneath him when you absentmindedly kiss the tip of his finger as your eyes fall heavy.

You have no idea what you are doing to him right now.

Suguru wants to eat you right up, keep you in place as he allows himself to savor every inch of your bare skin. He takes another second to find the motor controlling his restraints, holding himself back from suddenly caging you beneath him and fucking you until you were a blubbering mess.

He leers at your chest, bringing one large hand to cup your breast which makes his mouth dry up like he swallowed a ball of cotton. You naturally try to curl away, but stop when his thumb drags over the peak of your mound and delicately brushes your nipple. With nothing but sheer adoration blinding him, he repeats the action a few times until he feels your nipple pebble against his touch. Your lashes flutter like small bird’s wing, and he brings his fingers to the tips of both your breasts to massage both nipples.

“God, look at your fucking tits, sweetheart…” he rasps in between fondling you, “m’pretty girl…you’re more gorgeous than I imagined...” ”

You’ve seen the many faces of his lustful appetite but none of them compared to this. Your clit throbs from the praise; you don’t know how far he’s planning on going tonight, and your thighs clench with anticipation from how sensitive you were feeling already.

Suguru takes that as a queue to observe the space between your legs and his cock twitches at the darkened patch on your underwear.

“Turn around, sweetheart. Back to my chest.”

The strong tone of his command sent shivers up your spine. You nod your head, leaving one last kiss on his cheek before shifting your position until you were seated comfortably right in front of him. He groans when your ass rubs over his erection, and you stop yourself from moving when when his hands grip your knees. Flushed against his chest, Suguru drops his chin to your shoulder and caresses the side of his face to your cheek. He runs his nail beds back and forth, before finally extending his fingers and spreading your thighs a little wider.

“This isn’t going to hurt, I promise. Just relax f’me okay?”

You nod your head, your eyes focusing on your boyfriend’s hands as you watch him lift the strings of your underwear just a little bit higher. The material pulls against you, outlining the shape of your slit and you whimper when he slides one hand underneath to compress his fingers into the fat of your left hip.

His other hand teases you, knuckles brushing over your lower belly and your stomach sinks from the ticklish sensation. He motions his index finger along the thin band of your underwear, and at a painfully gradual pace begins to direct himself closer to your clothed pussy.

His eyes widen, the tips of his ears burning as his chest pinches at the sound of your breath wavering from the contact.

“Baby, you’re soaked,” he points out in surprise, “Ugh, I haven’t really touched you yet...”

Your nose bumps into his when you angle yourself to face him. Your speaking into his lips, one hand gliding up to hold the back of his head as you sigh out your reply.

“M’always wet whenever we kiss,” you admit shyly.

Suguru’s brows pinch together in frustration and he prods his fingers deeper into your hip.

“Shit, I’m on a short trigger right now...” he snarls, while simultaneously turning his head back so he can get a proper look at your cunt. “...I won't last long if you keep talking like that.”

He curses again under his breath, tugging your underwear aside only to find your glittering slick catch onto the material. He licks his lips eagerly, thrilled to know that he would eventually get a taste of this untouched fruit. He takes in the shape of your lips, and you whimper when his expert fingers press against your labia as he lewdly spreads you open.

Your weeping hole drips honey; the man has half a mind to push two fingers inside you to feel you suck him in, but he would have to save that for another day. He can see how responsive you are, and the last thing he wanted to do was overwhelm you with too much stimulation.

You’ve given him the access, and he wasn’t going to abuse his privileges.

He gathers up your arousal with two fingers then finds your clit. The pressure is gentle at first as he lubricates the bud, massaging in a circular motion while loosening his hold on your hip. Your back arches against his ministrations as he maintains his steady pace. His free hand floats up along your ribs until it tweaks your hard nipple. Your voice trembles when you whine, and you hold onto his legs for more support as you begin to roll your hips into his hand. Suguru can feel himself tenting in his sweats, and he pinches your clit before switching to broad strokes to tease your vulva.

“Like how that feels?” he coos into your ear.

“Mmph, yeah...”

“Going to train this pussy to take my dick well, stretch you out nice and good so that’s all you feel when I’m inside you...”

He won’t admit that it can’t happen yet - the man wouldn’t be able to control his natural impulses with your submission. All of this was equally as overwhelming for him. God knows how long he’s waited, how often he relieved himself with a firm grip around his dick just picturing what was playing out before him.

He presses his finger against the opening, ghosting over the hole l to tease you. Your hips buck into his hand, and Suguru pulls at your nipple in response. He presses his lips to where your neck and shoulder meet, sucking on your skin until a blemish breaches the surface.

“You’re all I want, all I fucking need...”

“Sugu...”

He rolls your nipple between his finger, his touch returning to your pulsing clit as he tenderly works the bud.

“Best thing that’s ever happened to me...don’t want anyone else,” he carries on, the words spilling out of him faster than he can think.

“Suguru, shit-ah...” you quiver, the ache in your core tightening your abdominal walls and the build up has you gripping the back of your boyfriend’s hair roughly.

His lips stay against your neck, wet open-mouthed kisses sweeping your skin and he molds his hand over your breast to latch onto you. His fingers are moving faster now, and you pull your legs further apart as you grind your hips. When his mouth finally finds yours, he leaves just enough space for you both to share breaths.

He knows how close you are. There is no way you would be able to hold off the way he likes just yet - it doesn’t matter if you’ve done this before on your own because Suguru’s touch is still so unfamiliar.

“Sugu, sugu...god, I’m gonna-m’gonna...”

He silences your angelic voice with a kiss, coveting each and every sound that you have already given him, and knows that he is about to push you over the edge.

A few more strokes do it; the all consuming feeling has your body contracting, he can feel your muscles pulse when he cups your pussy in his hand. Your hips thrusting into the air as you fight through the waves of your pleasure.

“Easy, sweetheart, easy...” Suguru laughs into your neck. He holds you until you settle back against his chest, and you try to catch your breath while coming down from your high.

A few minutes pass until Suguru unwraps his arms around you. He falls back against the pillows, closing his eyes as he subconsciously squeezes the outline of his prominent erection and groans with exasperation.

The bulbous head of his cock leaked so much pre cum it stained through the front of his gray sweats.

“Sugu?” you call out, and he notices how heavy his head feels when he opens his eyes.

His thigh muscle twitches underneath your palm. Through a hazy lens he sees you on all fours, your face angling itself over his cock.

You quickly glance back to look at him from under your lashes.

He sees what you want to do, but his throat tightens like someone had just poured thick honey down the hatch. He blinks away the seconds, watching your curious hands roam underneath his top, and he feels your fingers hook around his sweat pants and boxers.

“Your turn, birthday boy...” you say in a cheeky voice.

Suguru moans and it sounds like he’s an actual pain waiting to be alleviated. He raises his hips as you help remove the fabric constraining him and he catches the way your eyes circle into orbs watching his impressive length spring out of his boxers and slap against his lower belly.

Suguru knows he’s big - his past lovers never complained about what his genes graciously gifted him, but he can practically see the thought “how’s that going to fit” run through your mind when you stare at him like a deer in the headlight.

You drop his clothes to the side, your apprehension creeping back as your jaw goes slack fixating on his length. Protruding veins run up the shaft, his cockhead a deep purple dribbling with cum. He isn’t neatly trimmed as usual, pushing off his upkeep since he had no reason to be obsessive about maintenance.

“You don’t...” he grunts, thinking he can just quickly take care of himself to avoid pressuring you, “you don’t have to do anything-”

You return back to all fours; resting your cheek against his inner thigh while Suguru observes you with curious eyes. He watches you wrap your fingers around the base, giving him a few soft pumps, before leaning forward and licking a stripe up the underside. Your mouth finds the tip, and you kiss the head lovingly before sucking over the slit.

“You’re beautiful, Sugu,” you sigh dreamily.

Suguru’s hands catches the bedsheets. His eyes shoot wide open to gaze at the rounded balloons above his head. Your mouth parts, and you take him, carefully widening your jaw as you lower down to swallow every inch.

“Just the tip...just the tip for now,” your boyfriend sobs, his voice cracking upon making his second demand.

He didn’t want you to overestimate what you can handle, and he wasn’t stable enough to maintain any composure about fucking your throat.

You release the head with a little pop, leaving soft pecks on the side as your other hand grabs the weight of his heavy balls.

“Tell me what to do,” you request, any uncertainty in your voice veiled by your confidence to please him.

“Suck on it - like what you j-just did,” he informs, one of his fingers moving to trail the shell of your ear, “and just keeping pumping at the base...ugh, fuck...yeah, just like that...”

You follow his instruction well, your lips swallowing the tip as your tongue rolls around the head like a lollipop. You jerk him off at the same time until you find your own rhythm that suited you. The warmth emanating off of his body blankets him, and he literally feels his soul grow malleable inside him. Suguru moans your name over and over again - it sounds like a prayer on his lips as tears prick his eyes. You don’t stop until thick ropes of of cum release into your mouth, and a flash of white blinds him as you deliver him to salvation.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

tag list: @damn-geto @pensivespecter @ekaterinatepes @jelly-jellx @lollipopd @shuxjodie @mikasackrmann @alreadyblondenow @nanamikentcs @aizumie @mrsmorgenstern @artemisthestar @velvetlight333 @sluttoru @smoothy-ve @bisexualwomanofcolour @bloombb @sleepygeto @dont-ask-me-pls @half-baked-biscuit @kreishin

#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x female reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto smut #geto x reader #geto x female reader #geto x you #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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ren1327 · 3 months

Text

Spoilers!

"Loser Baby" frame analysis (2/3)

(With lyrics)

Red = Husk

Pink = Angel Dust

Purple = Both

Normal = My commentary

[HUSK] We're both losers, baby We're losers, it's okay to be a

Notice how Husk holds all four of Angel's hands. He leads him into a dance, his wings arcing around Angel as if to protect him when Husk twirls and spins him. Angel is surprised but goes with it. He's often pulled into things against his will, but Husk keeps his hold on his hands only and only holds, not grabs. Angel looks more surprised how gentle he is in this dance.

[ANGEL DUST] Coked up, dick-suckin' hoe?

[HUSK] Baby, that's fine by me

Everyone, almost everyone! Shames Angel for his vices: sex and drugs. To the point that he's taken it to the nth level from other's judgement. He even goes blank when Husk goes to answer him. But the old bartender assures him he doesn't care about Angel wanting what he wants. Once again. He cares about Angel dropping his porn star persona around him. He smiles, drops his lids and looks up at him. Almost like its a secret. Angel can enjoy what he enjoys around Husk, as long as its what he wants when he wants it. Husk doesn't want Angel to feel any shame around him.

[ANGEL DUST] I'm a loser, honey A schmoozer and a dummy But at least I know I'm not alone

[HUSK] You're a loser

[ANGEL DUST & HUSK] Just like me

Angel embraces the fucked up situation he's in. But he knows he's not suffering alone now. While Husk often has lines under his eyes, Angel has some very subtle ones in the inner corner of his eyes and one between his brows. He's tired. And he's fine showing Husk he's tired.

Husk has his shoulders hunched up as far as they can go, while Angel is more so relaxed. Husk is supporting Angel's weight on him when they lean on each other. Sure, Angel may be lighter, but Husk is allowing him to rest on him both physically, mentally and emotionally. At this point, Angel is allowing Husk in: He's broken through his walls to meet Husk.

[HUSK] I got an appetite for gamblin'

While this started out as Husk's song, it's slowly become thier song. He has a spotlight on him while he sings.

[ANGEL DUST] I got an appetite for samplin' every drug and sex toy I can find

[HUSK] Go ahead baby, sing that song, come on!

But this time, Angel's spotlight stays on and Husk's spotlight doesn't come on or collide with his. His song is all Angel now. Angel is his center of his attention. Angel has suffered from his sexuality being judged by others, making all the violence he was answered with something he "asked for". Husk knows the difference here, even shows the difference in his words. He's fully embraced Angel and isn't shaming him for being sexually active. He's hyping up Angel and showing full support for who he is. "Sing that song, come on", as in "be who you are and don't you dare be ashamed".

[ANGEL DUST] I got no holes left to deflower

[HUSK] I sold my soul to save my power Now I'm on that demon's leash

They understand how desperate and messed up thier situations are. They're trapped under tow different overlords. Interesting note, Valentino's rope is spaced and disorganized. And they fade and fall off first, and a second later, Husk's rope unravel and fall. If this is from Husk's POV, he may believe Angel has an opportunity. That Angel can escape while he just has to deal with his situation until Alastor lets him go.

[ANGEL DUST & HUSK] I'm trapped and it gets worse with every hour

Husk is still supporting Angel. The lines under Angel's eyes cant be seen as well, as if he's finally relaxing. Even his shoulders are more relaxed.

Husk has gotten through to him.

#hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel angel dust #huskerdust

65 notes · View notes

theotherseapancakes · 17 days

Note

Psssst. You mentioned no one cares about Philemon, but now I'm curious if you have any thoughts about his role in the games after he disappeared. And for sillies sake, does he have anything to do with the Dance games?

I have been waiting my entire life for this. Anon do you realize how verbose I'm going to get. DO YOU REALIZE? I hope you like read mores. Let me preface this with I am aware and have seen some popular theories, so I'm going to sidestep a lot of them and present one I've built since... well, I became a Persona fan as a teenager. MAJOR PERSONA SERIES SPOILERS LIKE THE ENTIRE THING OK? OK. yes even royal.

The P2 PSP additional scenario is so incredibly important and I think everyone missed the point of it. THE PERSONA 2 PSP ADDITIONAL TATSUYA SCENARIO!!!! It's beyond important, because it reveals to us Philemon can have more than one Avatar we know about, just like Nyarly. (Casual reminder he's like half the shopkeeps in P2. Time Count, anyone? Why was the Time Count so hot. Anyway.) Disclaimer: I'm just a casual fan who has played a LOT of Persona and SMT. I haven't gotten around to all of them, but I've played/finished both paths of 1, 2, 3 (and p3p) as well as 4 and 5. Didn't manage to get my hands on Golden but I've seen enough of it. (It's funny you ask about the dance games, they're the only ones I don't have right now! But my roommate does, and will be gone for a few months soon, perhaps I will take the time to start with p4DAN. I'm atrocious at rhythm games though so more than likely I'll find a video. Anyway.) WHAT is Philemon? If we can't define that, we can't talk about The Positivity Guy Ever.

So let's talk about Phil. He's a fascinating character. His Persona is just a form of Himself, But Cooler. And he seems to HAVE no set shape, not unlike Nyarlathotep. People have various theories about Shadows and their origins etc., but Phil is more like that vote of confidence in people. I think, personally, that after the end of Innocent Sin, Phil's been pretty weak. We see in Eternal Punishment he's fading pretty roughly, and has a hard time talking to the party. Presumably ending Nyarly might to some degree fix things when Deja-vu Boy goes home, but... the problem is, we don't know how fixed they truly ended up being, or the full depth of how much he could/did expend!

In fact, the first time we even see Phil without the dumb mask is when Tatsuya decks him. Pay close attention to that fact. To the mask motifs here. I want you to really soak in Phil's everything. He's a leader. A kind soul. He's the good of people. He wants to believe the best.

Anyway, most of these things overlook what I find really interesting as we've gotten more games worth of lore: he and Nyarly aren't the only eldritch entities walking around like that. Yes, Nyx is one too. Yes, it's probable she may even be their 'mom'. It's possible they all came from Nyx initially, but it's also possible (and should be considered) they too may have been outsiders at one point. We need to ask ourselves how far the human collective unsconsciousness can go. Is that sea infinite? Could it affect other worlds? Think about Aion in Devil Summoner Soul Hackers 2. Yes, I am asking you to think about Soul Hackers 2. Deal with it, I don't care. They're sister series. They share many things. SO! Did the shape of the human mind change a bunch of eldritch creatures and make them interact with us even more after Nyx smacked the moon a gazillion years ago? Is there multiple worlds? Weird bullshit? Just the two? Hmm. Well... I, personally, think so. I think he was touched by humanity just like Nyarlathotep, but in the other way. The reason I bring this up is two-fold. The first is Nodens. Now, we don't know much about the actual Nodens, unfortunately, just some speculation. Which is a shame. (If anyone has more info I'd love to have it, ngl. As a pagan this shit fascinates me.) But what we do get on him in Lovecraftian lore can provide us some intriguing possibilities about Phil's everything, which the games love to keep really rather vague. (And this is putting aside that his human Persona is based off the obviously bogus Jungian Spirit Guide, but we love an old guy in a mask anyway. He probably felt that was more 'friendly' for humans, hah.) I believe that Nodens, and Phil by extension, are just as responsible for nurturing and keeping the collective unconsciousness alive and positive. We see the butterfly symbol everywhere. We see it with Lavenza, too. "This is truly an unjust game." So was the bet Phil made with Nyarly, a game he rigged. Phil made the mistake of thinking the Crawling Chaos wouldn't cheat, a mistake he is never making again, I assume, if he can help it. Shit, you could view his boss fight in P2EP as him trying to train the EP crew to beat the snot out of Nyarly, even. But off topic. If Nyarly is basically the father of all Shadows, and they and Personas are the same coin, it makes me wonder a lot of things. The two have always been portrayed as simultaneously diametrically opposed, but also not? They have identical halls in P2. They have similar powers and talents... I think after Persona 3, Phil's remnants sank into the Collective Unconsciousness, to attempt to rehabilitate humanity from what it lost, from what he himself lost. I think Igor took over the room, because he took a backseat to recover. It would go a long, long way towards explaining why only SOME characters have the tier of the Wild Card, which is similar to the 'original' Persona power. (Having multiple.) He was took weak to remain in his Spirit Guide (Philemon) form, and had to abandon it to return to the depths as Nodens... So. Let me go back to Nodens and make some notes about design.

Nodens, as seen here, sort of resembles an iron maiden. It really brings to mind the idea of maybe Tatsuya or someone's humanoid form sleeping within it, doesn't it? Fitting for an aspect of Philemon! ... You probably can see where I'm going with this, but let me pull up some screens to finish the point:

That's right! It's Azathoth, Baby! I believe that unlike mythology, he's yet another aspect of Philemon. Eldritch positivity, in too much force, could be used for accidental bad, too. (Reasons Maruki is my favorite Law Hero, haha.) Let me explain. I think Philemon always existed in... let's call it parts. Azathoth is said to be a dreaming god in whom's universe we all just happen to be alive inside, right? "Dream of butterfly" (Philemon) "Or is life a dream? Don't wanna wake up. Cuz I'm happy here." That sure is thematic to what Maki goes through in Persona 1, and what Maruki's beloved suffers, isn't it? ISN'T IT. The "true reality" he creates... would help Maruki create in the additional Semester--would be something most humans would never pass the muster to even try to control. But we have seen Phil test a few people and find them worth passing before! However, that seems like ages ago. Why has he been so quiet? I think because he was spending time conserving his energy. He believed in humanity enough to give Makoto a push when it was needed in p3 (or femc, if you play her), but otherwise trusted Igor while he restored what needed it. But in Persona 5 Royal, he hand-picked Maruki, didn't he? At first, when I played Persona 5 Royal, I really thought it was some part of Nyarly, but I no longer believe this to be the case. The coloration and symbolism in the background (the golds, the whole garden of eden themes, the way his Palace was laid out), the whole sea of soul motifs in P3Re later... mmm. I have a lot of thoughts about this, but this post is already way too long for one simple ask. So let's wrap up by going one step further and looking finally at Nodens' dialogue to the party in the Extra Scenario in Persona 2: Eternal Punishment (PSP). The following is a transcript, you can find a video here:

Nodens: This is the memory of the lost child whom you all seek. Nodens: Memory occasionally brings about much distress and suffering, but it is absolutely vital to distinguish oneself from others and manufacture one's own psyche. Nodens: Ever since it began, life's memory has accumulated unbroken, passing through individual experiences and spanning several generations. Nodens: And so it has given shape to Kadath and the Collective Unconsciousness, thereby becoming a foundation for the next generation. Nodens: Even if the roots of the world are directed by fear and anxiety, never forget that the true essence of life is brimming with joy. Nodens: You must not stop seeking the answer for why life was born in a cosmos progressing towards absurdity and chaos. Nodens: Life brims with joy, bringing about balance in a universe predestined to heat death, and that allows the world to live a long time.

So to answer your question, I think he's taken a much subtler role. I think he's influencing people by pretending to be a Persona for Maruki, because he believes it will help them grow. I don't think he was intending a forever-control vice grip, but rather to prove a point. No matter what, the primordial chaos of humanity will rise up for chaotic good, lawful good, whatever "good" is needed. Azathoth is... interesting. Adam Kadmon is also interesting. But mostly I HIGHLY suspect we may see him again in Persona 6, or at least I'm hoping so. It's my personal pet theory by then he'll be less faded and come back to us in a new form of some kind. He's never had a set one, after all. Now for funsies about the dancing game, well, he's a positive guy, he wanted to just make sure everyone had their fitness regimen checked off. Obviously. (This is a joke.) Did the devs intend this? I'm honestly not sure? Like there's a lot of nods to older Personas in 5 and now 3RE especially, but it's definitely worth chewing on. I could go on and on about things I think he's connected to, but ultimately they have the final say lol. I'm just a crackpot conspiracy theorist on tumblr who really likes Philemon. He and the Room are my favorites. :) Ask me about attendants for additional dumb, sometime, I guess lol.

#persona #persona 1 #persona 2 #persona 3 #persona 4 #persona 5 #persona spoilers #p5r #philemon #persona 2 innocent sin #persona 2 eternal punishment #nodens #text #long post;#SORRY NOT SORRY THIS IS ONE OF MY ETERNAL BRAINROT QUESTIONS HERE #I live and breathe overthinking SMTPersona

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midweastindigo · 22 days

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oh but buck being haunted by thoughts of eddie at night. in the seconds before falling asleep he hears a gentle, 'hey buck,' in his ear. the bed dipping; ghosts of fingers he knows better than his own brushing against his face. jolting awake, only to find tommy's arms wrapped around him.

a brush of lips against his birthmark as he naps on the couch at the station during a 24. 'because, evan,' ringing in his ears when he awakens. unable to look eddie in the eye for the rest of shift.

'still wanna go for the title?' whispered back to him in his kitchen as he grabs a beer from the fridge. maddie frets over him as chim cleans up the broken glass. jee giggling about her clumsy uncle buck.

curling up close to tommy during a rare la thunderstorm, but in between each strike of fading lightning, buck swears he can hear eddie screaming his name. tommy asks if he's okay. buck says yes, the lightning is just so loud. tommy says he knows a few ways to distract him from the storm. as their lips meet, buck swears he hears a proud, wistful, 'go get em, cowboy.'

it isn't real but tommy is. he is so real above him.

staying up until 3 am, lost, wandering through years and years of memories and traumas and laughter and love. so much love. and being so fucking confused because.

eddie is his best friend. he's only ever been his best friend, right? and then he's taking a shower trying to wash off some lingering shame that maybe it wasn't always just friendship he felt for him but that's all he feels now, right? they're best friends. he's dating tommy. eddie has, from all the years they've been together, never seemed interested in him. or other men.

'you never asked, buck.' and buck drops his shampoo bottle on his foot. hot breath tickles his neck; the place where eddie's hand always lands in comfort. his thumb barely grazing his burning skin.

but when he turns around, no one is in the shower with him. he's alone. it's 3 am and he's pretty sure the shampoo bottle is going to leave a bruise on his foot as the water keeps flowing around him, alone, in his couchless apartment. tommy had a shift but they're meeting for breakfast.

but it's a buck-and-eddie breakfast place. 11 minutes from eddie's house. 'you'd rather be meeting me, yeah?'

'always,' buck answers. immediate. he knows it down to his core.

he is in love with eddie diaz.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #the art of realizing you've been in love with your best friend this whole time

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whump-tr0pes · 3 days

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Honor Bound 6 - 27

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, Honor Bound 5, and the prequel Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

Contents: themes of self-harm, harm reduction, imperfect recovery, PTSD, tattooing, piercings, themes on nonconsensual tattoos and branding, angst

“Come into town with me,” Sam said, looking right at Isaac over the breakfast table.

Isaac’s hand tightened in a fist around his cereal spoon. “Um…” He glanced at Gavin, who sat next to him. Gray had already eaten breakfast hours ago and was out on a walk.

Isaac’s scars stung. He was going to… not use his knife, he wasn’t going to do that after breakfast, he told himself he wasn’t. But his skin itched and he needed to do something. He had been planning on holding an ice cube after breakfast until it disappeared into water, dripping off his fingers.

He cleared his throat and tried again. “What’s in town?”

A faint flush warmed Sam’s cheeks, and a smile tugged at their lips. “Zachariah did some asking around, and it turns out one of the guys who lives in town used to be a tattoo artist, back down south. Zachariah is going in today to, uh… get his tattoo covered up.”

“Oh,” Isaac said softly. He chewed his lip and kept his gaze from flicking to Gavin with sheer will alone. “His…” He motioned at his own shoulder with the spoon in his hand.

Sam nodded solemnly. “His Stormbeck crest, yeah.”

Isaac’s brow furrowed. “How would they cover that up? It’s… huge. And dark black.”

“I don’t know,” Sam said with a shrug. “But apparently the guy said he could do it. And I wanted to go, to support Zachariah. I figured you might come with me.” Their gaze shifted to Gavin’s. “Both of you?”

“That sounds nice, Isaac,” Gavin said gently, sliding his hand into Isaac’s free one. “But if you, um… need a break after last night—”

“No,” Isaac snapped. The embarrassment of Vera’s gaze and words hadn’t faded, but he was fucking sick of being the one having to be babied. Not after what Gavin had been through. Not after what Gavin had survived – after what he nearly hadn’t survived. Isaac wasn’t going to be the reason Gavin stayed inside, away from the sun and air and grass, because he was fucking embarrassed.

He shuddered and carefully put his spoon down. When he looked up at Gavin and Sam in turn, they were looking up at him in concern – or perhaps something deeper than concern. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he ground his teeth against the shame that prickled where their gazes touched him. His throat worked and he made his shoulders relax.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. “I hate being this on edge.”

“We know,” Sam responded without hesitation – but without judgement, too.

Isaac offered them a tentative smile. He squeezed Gavin’s fingers and glanced between him and Sam. “I appreciate you being concerned. Both of you. But… I’ll be okay. I think it would be better, actually, if… if you both believe I’ll be okay. And…” He returned his gaze to Gavin’s, and his smile grew warmer. “And we should get you outside as much as possible. Get some color in those cheeks before winter comes.”

Gavin laughed and drew his hand through his short-cropped hair. “Vera did say I look so white now I may as well be a ghost.”

“Damn, Vera,” Isaac muttered.

“She meant it as a joke,” Gavin said, still smiling. “I wasn’t hurt by it.”

“I know,” Isaac replied. But maybe she could wait until I stop seeing you dead in my nightmares before she starts joking about it? He pulled Gavin’s thin hand to his lips and kissed the bony knuckles.

“So… yes?” Sam said, giving them both a thumbs up. “Tattoo guy? Zachariah? Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” Isaac said with a nod. “Gavin?”

“You know I’m always interested in going into town,” Gavin said with a grin, and in that moment, Isaac’s heart swelled to bursting. There was Gavin, his old self – perhaps not his old self, but his true self, the way Isaac had seen him in the few months they had had together before Gavin had been taken – radiant and mischievous and sweet. In that wide, contented grin, the pain and fear had fallen away from Gavin’s face, the circles under his eyes faded, and the scars stretched until they were pale again. Isaac’s throat tightened and he drank in the sight of the thing he hadn’t truly believed he would ever see again: Gavin safe, home, and happy.

The intensity of Isaac’s attention made Gavin blush. “What?” he said, his smile growing wider.

“Just… looking at you,” Isaac murmured. His own face flushed and he looked away. “Sorry.” He glanced at Sam. They stared at him, grinning too. “What?”

“Nothing,” Sam said with a chuckle. “It’s really nice to see you two back together, is all.”

Isaac flushed deeper and snatched his spoon up off the table. “Yeah,” he said, and scooped up a bite of cereal. “Let’s finish up breakfast so we can head into town.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sam said. “I can’t wait to see what Zachariah is gonna get.”

∴

Isaac didn’t know what he found more intriguing: the man’s tattoos, or his piercings. Isaac had seen all kinds of piercings before on the team’s missions – rings all over the ears, in nostrils, in lips, in eyebrows, in nipples – but he had never seen, or at least noticed, anyone who had pieces of metal seemingly embedded in their skin like the tattoo artist did. And he had them all over his face – on his dimples, cheekbones, and above his eyebrows. Isaac couldn’t stop staring.

The man seemed to notice. He gave Isaac a long glance, which had him shifting his gaze down sheepishly. When the man turned his attention to Zachariah, Isaac used the distraction to look at his tattoos.

They covered his skin – or at least, his left forearm and hand, with some stretching up his neck to wind across his jaws as well. His right forearm was almost completely bare, and the half-rolled sleeves of his shirt and pants obscured the rest of him from view. But across his left arm twisted the impossibly complicated shapes of skulls, birds, and geometric shapes, all in a gritty swirl of black and gray and red. The designs shifted with his muscles as slid his hands into his pockets. He stood only a little taller than Sam, and was even more slight in stature.

The shop itself was actually just a glorified shed attached to the feed store, but it looked like it had been completely made over to accommodate an array of tattoo supplies – plus a chair in the center of the large shed that looked like it could be unfolded to be like a bed. A few stools lined the walls as well.

“So,” the man said with a thin shrug. His dark, baggy clothes seemed to hang off him. “You said shoulder, right?”

“Um… that’s, that’s right,” Zachariah said softly. He rolled up his short sleeve and stared at the floor as he revealed his Stormbeck tattoo. Sam reached out and put a hand on his arm.

Isaac’s throat tightened. It’s bigger than I remember.

Still, the man nodded, seemingly unbothered, his eyes moving over the tattoo. He tilted his head. “Any ideas for what you wanted instead?”

“Oh… no,” Zachariah mumbled. “Just whatever works. I know it’s… it’s bad.”

The man snorted. “Definitely not the worst I’ve seen. You ever try to cover one of these up on the face?”

Gavin gasped. “Who the fuck tattoos on the face?” he breathed.

“The Torrs,” the man said with a dry chuckle. “When they’re feeling particularly shitty. A bull in the most god-awful blocky style, right here on the cheek.” He motioned to his own cheek, bare except for a dot of metal. “Or on the neck. Still, I think I’d prefer that over the Stormbecks.”

Gavin went rigid beside Isaac. Isaac could hear his throat click as he swallowed, watched his lips tremble as he opened his mouth and asked, “Why… would you prefer a face tattoo over the Stormbecks?”

With an easy shrug, the tattoo artist pulled up the sleeve on his right arm and exposed the brand over his bicep: the head of a raven, surrounded by vines. By the look of the scar, it was a decade old at least.

“R-right,” Gavin whispered. “Stormbecks brand.”

“Hurts like a bitch, too,” the man said with a chuckle.

“So you were owned by my— by Benjamin Stormbeck?” Gavin croaked. His eyes swam with tears.

“Yup,” the man said. When he didn’t continue, Isaac’s gaze shifted from Gavin and pinned the artist where he stood.

“You know who he is.” Isaac’s mouth was dry. His hand inched toward his gun.

“I suspected,” the man said gently. He shrugged again. “No hard feelings, though. I mean. I heard some of the story, so I know that’s not even your real name anymore. And I heard you were in town. So it wasn’t hard to guess. But like I said. No hard feelings. You think I haven’t done shit? I wasn’t branded for no fuckin’ reason. It was because I got caught selling Stormbeck playthings to a higher bidder. So.”

Gavin went pale. “You sold—”

Isaac fell back a step, pulling Gavin and Sam with him. “Let’s—”

The man raised his hands. “Holy shit, here’s a good first impression. I did it so I could feed my little sister and her kid. And I didn’t exactly enjoy it. And once I escaped, I didn’t start again. Fuck, I…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to Zachariah. “Well, I might have entirely fucked this up. Sorry. But I would like to help you out, still.”

Zachariah stood frozen, his eyes darting between the man and Sam. “I… um…”

“Start over, maybe? My name’s Brandon.” Brandon held out a hand and shook Zachariah’s. “Good to meet you, man.”

Zachariah’s hand swallowed Brandon’s, but his was shaking. He squeezed Brandon’s hand in a quick handshake. “You too, Brandon,” he said, shuffling his feet.

“And you guys, too,” Brandon said, his relaxed demeanor slightly giving way. He held out his hand for Gavin to shake.

“Gavin Uriah,” Gavin said, his eyes still downcast.

“Yup,” Brandon said with a nod. He held out his hand to Sam.

“Sam,” they said, their mouth turning down at the corners. They kept their arms folded awkwardly across their chest.

“Sweet.” Brandon didn’t skip a beat. He reached out to shake Isaac’s hand.

“Isaac Moore,” Isaac said flatly. He only barely held himself back from grinding Brandon’s knuckles together in his grip. Instead, he released his hand quickly, so he would be able to reach for his gun if it turned out he needed it.

“Okay, cool,” Brandon said, rubbing his hands together and glancing at the four of them. “It really is my bad for bringing up the plaything… thing. Not exactly something I’m proud of and it’s honestly not something I bring up a lot. If you don’t feel good about moving forward, totally cool. But…” He peered at Zachariah’s tattoo again, taking a step to the side as if to look at it from a different angle. “I think this is totally doable, depending on what you go with.”

Anger and distrust churned in Isaac’s gut. The door called to him, but more than that; this entire town felt absolutely crawling with people he couldn’t – or shouldn’t – trust. Just being in the same room with someone who had sold stolen playthings made him sick to his stomach, and to know that this same man had also brought up the Stormbecks knowing who it was that stood in front of him…

After everything Gavin has been through, after having that history carved into his fucking arm…

“What do you think, Zachariah? It’s up to you,” came Sam’s voice, winding through his distrust – and below the distrust, as there always was, was fear.

Zachariah wrung his hands and looked to each of them in turn. “Um… I would… really like to have it covered,” he said weakly.

“Then let’s stay and have it covered,” Sam said with a nod. They glanced at Isaac, and he felt their gaze like an admonishment.

He forced himself to nod back, forced his shoulders to relax.

“Okay,” Brandon said with a gusty exhale. “Sounds good. Um. I do a lot of my designs freehand as long as they’re simple, but I have the stuff to do a stencil too. So. If you don’t have any ideas, um…” He pulled up a stool and sat down. Everyone else remained standing. Brandon didn’t seem to notice. “What kind of things do you do? What do you enjoy?”

“Um…” Zachariah spread his hands. “I don’t… really know. I uh… I played soccer with my siblings, but that was more for them.”

“Hm. Okay. What else?”

Zachariah glanced at Sam and blushed a furious red. “I like… Sam,” he said, almost too quietly to be heard.

“No go. I don’t do couple’s tattoos.” Brandon waved the idea away. “Used to be bad luck in case you broke up. Now I don’t do it in case one of you dies.”

Isaac let out a sound like he’d been punched.

“Way less likely up here, but a superstition is a superstition,” Brandon said with a shrug. “Let’s think of something else.”

“Um…” Zachariah twisted his hands together. “Finn and Ellis have… a cat that’s really friendly, and I like him…?”

“Mm, could be promising,” Brandon said. “What are the main colors?”

“Oh, he’s all black,” Sam said with a grin.

Brandon leapt up from the stool. “Bingo,” he said, and went to his table of supplies. He paused and glanced back at Zachariah and lifted his eyebrows. “Does that work? Black cat tattoo?”

“You… can really make this work?” Zachariah murmured, glancing to the others hopefully and back to Brandon.

“Sure thing,” Brandon said. He pulled on some gloves and began preparing the tattoo gun. “Only thing to settle is payment.”

Isaac’s stomach dropped. “We don’t have any—”

“Yeah, I know, nobody does,” Brandon said with a good-natured wave of his hand. “But I have a small tree that’s been about to fall over in my yard for a few months. I don’t have a car to pull it over and I don’t have the strength or… frankly, the fuckin’ time to chop it into firewood when it does go. Help me pull it over, then give me like four hours of chopping? Whatever amount of wood that makes?”

“Th-that’s it?” Zachariah said softly. “That’s… all you want?”

“Yeah, dude,” Brandon said with a snort. “Believe me, it’s worth it to me.”

“I can start tomorrow,” Zachariah breathed.

“You’ll start once this is healed,” Brandon laughed. “You don’t want a tattoo this big getting infected. Especially not up here where I don’t have a lot of the stuff I would need to treat it.”

“Thank…” Zachariah swallowed hard and sank into the tattoo chair. “Thank you.”

Brandon turned around and rolled his tray of supplies closer to the tray. “Oh yup, just make yourself comfortable. I already wiped the chair down before you got here.” He gestured to the stools along the wall. “The rest of you want to have a seat?”

“Thanks,” Sam said, and gave Zachariah a reassuring squeeze on his arm. They and Gavin each went to a stool and sat down.

“I’ll stand,” Isaac said coldly.

Brandon shrugged. “Suit yourself. Sit down if you feel woozy.” He poured disinfectant over a cloth and smoothed it over Zachariah’s exposed shoulder. “Did the old tattoo heal okay?”

“Um, yeah,” Zachariah mumbled. “Just a little itching. The Storm— um. They gave me a good tattoo cream for the healing process.”

“At least there’s that,” Brandon said with a one-shoulder shrug, peering at the tattoo again. “Let me just…” He uncapped a black marker and drew a few swooping lines across Zachariah’s shoulder. “There. That’ll be the general idea. Like I said, I can add more detail if you want, but…” He stripped off his gloves and passed Zachariah a mirror. “Take a look. Do you—”

“How did you do that?” Zachariah whispered, eyes wide, staring in awe at the mirror in his hand.

Sam jumped up off their stool. “They me see,” they said, grinning. They stared at the drawing on Zachariah’s shoulder. “I… wow. I didn’t… so you’ll fill in that part and that part?” They held out their left hand to point.

“Okay, now I have to see,” Gavin said as he slid off his stool, too. His eyes widened as he looked at Zachariah’s shoulder. “It’ll be…” He wet his lips. “It’ll be like it was never there.”

Isaac ground his teeth and stepped around Zachariah, unable to contain his curiosity. The drawing was simple, but the lines were clear; once they were filled in, the image of Nata curled on Zachariah’s shoulder would fully cover the black Stormbeck crest that marred it now. Peeks of Zachariah’s skin would even show through to show the cat’s eyes, nose, and whiskers, and his tail curled around Zachariah’s bicep.

“I love it,” Zachariah rasped. “Seriously, I… I love it. Let’s do it.”

Brandon clapped his hands together. “Awesome. Let’s do it.” He pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and switched on the tattoo gun, dipping the tip of it into the small pot of jet-black ink beside him. “We’ll take this at your pace, okay? Shouldn’t take too too long, but if you need me to slow down or if you need to just tap out, no problem. We can always go again another time.”

Isaac’s eyebrows pulled together. Tap out?

Zachariah nodded vigorously and pushed out a slow breath. Sam pulled their stool forward and reached out, taking his other hand. Isaac watched in confusion. They’re acting like he’s about to give birth, what—

The needle touched Zachariah’s skin and he let out a hiss.

Isaac fell a step forward, his eyes fixed on the needle in Brandon’s hand. “Does that hurt?” he said, before he could stop himself.

“It’s…” Zachariah’s eyes went wide and he stared up at Isaac. “N-no,” he stammered. “No. It doesn’t. I… it’s not that bad, I promise it’s—”

“But it hurts,” Isaac said weakly. “Right? Like, does it always hurt?” He could feel Sam’s gaze on his face, but he ignored it.

Brandon wiped his mouth on his shoulder. “Depends on the person, and on the body part getting tattooed. And on what’s being done. But yeah, tattooing hurts, man. It’s needles going into your skin at like 10,000 times a second.” He chuckled and glanced up at Isaac. He immediately sobered when he saw the expression on Isaac’s face.

“Do you…” Isaac swallowed dryly. “Do you tattoo over scars?”

“Hell yeah, man,” Brandon said, and turned back to his work. “I work in the North. If I didn’t work with scars, I wouldn’t have a job.”

“I mean… do you…” Isaac’s hand shook as he fumbled for his sleeve. He wordlessly pulled his sleeve up to reveal the scars at his wrist and forearm.

Brandon paused his tattooing and looked at Isaac’s arm. He looked for a long time, so long that Isaac flushed with embarrassment and yanked his sleeve back down. Then, Brandon drew in a deep breath and said, “Of course I do work over those kinds of scars, man. But I can’t tattoo over broken skin. You’re gonna have to stop doing that if you want any work done by me.” Without another word, he turned back to Zachariah. He switched on the machine again and deftly moved it over Zachariah’s skin, wiping, tattooing, wiping, tattooing.

Isaac fell a step back and sank onto the stool next to Gavin. His scars prickled where the air had touched them. Still, as he watched Brandon work, he imagined how it might feel to have a needle slide into his skin 10,000 times per minute leaving ink in its wake, making designs instead of scars. He shivered as Gavin slid his fingertips against his palm and laced their fingers together.

“You doing okay?” Sam said gently.

“Yeah,” Zachariah said with a tight smile. “Really, it’s not bad at all.”

“Damn,” Brandon murmured, as if to himself. “This is gonna be a really cool piece.”

@womping-grounds , @free-2bmee , @quirkykayleetam , @walkingchemicalfire , @inpainandsuffering , @redwingedwhump , @burtlederp , @castielamigos-whump-side-blog , @whatwhumpcomments , @whumpywhumper , @stxck-fxck , @whumps-the-word , @justplainwhump , @finder-of-rings , @inky-whump , @orchidscript , @inkyinsanity , @this-mightaswell-happen , @newandfiguringitout , @whumpkitty , @pretty-face-breaker , @pebbledriscoll , @im-just-here-for-the-whump , @endless-whump , @grizzlie70 , @oops-its-whump , @kixngiggles, @1phoenixfeather , @butwhatifyouwrite , @carnagecardinal , @whumpifi , @squishablesunbeam

#honor bound 6 #hurt/comfort #whump #angst #self-harm #harm reduction #Isaac/Gavin #Sam/Zachariah #imperfect recovery #PTSD #branding

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