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capricorn-writes1 · 4 years ago

Note

Male reader asking out axis (Romano and Prussia)

Hello there, dear. Writing Romano is a very hard challenge for me because I cannot really relate to his personality and how he would react, but it was still fun writing this for you. I hope you like the result. Also, this is actually very hard to write because I’m not creative with confession

Warning: Cringe and doesn’t make sense Gender: Male! Reader

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Male! Reader Asking Out Lovino Vargas and Gilbert Beilschmidt to be Their boyfriend

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Lovino Vargas - SOUTH ITALY

Romano was not expecting it at all. He was just minding his own business, grumbling over some tomatoes, when you casually asked, “Wanna go out with me sometime?” Cue an immediate choke, followed by aggressive stammering and red ears: “Wha–what the hell kind of question is that out of nowhere?!”

Lovino automatically assumed it was a prank at first. He narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms, and scowled. “Yeah, right, like someone would really wanna date me. Go mess with someone else.” But when you just looked at him sincerely and repeated it, he actually froze. “… You’re not kidding? Dios mio… You really like me?”

The confession was public, and Romano nearly died. They were in a plaza in Naples, and you just blurted it out in front of a group of old Italian women. Romano screamed, “ARE YOU OUTTA YOUR DAMN MIND?! THESE NONNAS WILL PRAY FOR US!” But then he realized he was… kind of smiling. Like, a lot.

He tries really hard to play it cool after saying yes. Pretends like it’s no big deal. Shrugs and goes, “Yeah, whatever. I’ve had better offers.” But then he’s sneaking little glances all day, wondering if you are happy or nervous.

He avoids Feliciano for three full days because he’s convinced his brother will never shut up about it. He keeps muttering to himself, “Stupid fratello’s gonna throw a parade or something…” But when Feliciano finds out and hugs him tightly, cheering, Romano… doesn’t push him away.

He gets a little clingy after the date is official. Not that he’d ever admit it, but he texts you first every morning now and panics if he doesn’t get a reply in five minutes. “Bet you’re already tired of me. That’s fine. I didn’t expect much,” he’ll grumble.

Romano has zero chill when anyone flirts with his now-boyfriend. He goes full Mafia mode. Hands on hips. Sharp glare. “Back off. He’s mine. Go flirt with a wall.” It’s part jealousy, part surprise that anyone else sees how amazing his boyfriend is too.

Eventually, Romano softens; he doesn’t even realize how much. He starts laughing more, cooking more elaborate meals “just because,” and letting his walls drop inch by inch. You watch in awe as this once-prickly man becomes someone tender and bright in love.

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It started like any other afternoon in Naples: sun-drenched cobblestones, the distant rumble of scooters, and Romano hunched over a wooden stall, inspecting tomatoes like the fate of the world depended on their ripeness. His brows were furrowed, his lips pressed into a tight scowl as he muttered under his breath. He looked like he was arguing with the produce, which, to be fair, wasn’t new. What was new, however, was the quiet, nervous presence lingering behind him. Romano knew he was being watched, but for once, he didn’t snap about it.

“Hey, Lovino,” the voice said, steady but a little shy. Romano straightened, shoulders tense. No one used his first name unless they were family… or serious.

He turned around and frowned, immediately met with the face of someone he’d grown used to seeing almost every day. You, someone he knows from the academy, a classmate. The kind who offered to walk him home when it rained and complimented his cooking during school events. Romano had dismissed all the signs with practiced ease. He didn’t let himself believe that someone could really be interested in him. So when you smiled and said, “Do you want to go out sometime? Like, on a real date?” Romano’s brain completely shut down.

His eyes widened. His mouth opened, then closed again like a fish. For several seconds, he just stood there, blinking like he’d been hit with a stray football. “Are you, what? Are you serious?” He finally croaked, his voice cracking halfway through the sentence. He immediately looked away, ears burning. “You’re not just messing around, right? Because if this is some kind of joke, I swear to God…”

“It’s not a joke,” you said calmly, a bit more confident now. “I like you, Lovino. I’m not expecting fireworks or anything; I just want to take you out. No pressure," you continued.

Romano stared at you, his face flushed as red as the tomatoes still in his hand. For a minute, he looked like he was going to bolt. But instead, he exhaled slowly and muttered something that almost got lost in the breeze. “Tch… fine. I guess. But only once. And if you get weird or start saying dumb things, I’m leaving.” He looked away quickly. “And don’t think this means I like you back or whatever. Idiota.”

You just smiled wider, completely unfazed. “You’re cute when you’re defensive, you know that?” you teased. Romano made a strangled noise, shoved a tomato into the other’s hands, and grumbled something about ruining the mood. But under all the scowls and bluster, his heart was thumping in his chest. For once, someone had chosen him, and it scared him but in the best kind of way.

Later that night, while cooking pasta for dinner, Romano caught himself smiling at nothing. He stirred the sauce too long, completely distracted, and when Feliciano asked what was wrong, he barked, “Nothing!” But when he glanced at his phone, he saw a new message. “Looking forward to our date,” he didn't hide his grin. Not this time.

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Gilbert Beilschmidt - PRUSSIA

You asked him out mid-conversation, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Gilbert blinked, visibly short-circuiting for a second before puffing his chest out. “Of course you vanna date me. I am the awesome Prussia, after all!” But even while bragging, his ears turned pink.

He tried to tease you after you asked. “Was it the abs? The charm? The sheer manliness?” But when you deadpan replied, “Nah, I just like idiots with soft hearts,” he froze. “…O-okay, rude, but also? Fair.” Under the cocky laugh, he was absolutely screaming inside.

He pretended he was expecting it all along, like it was part of some grand prophecy. “Oh, finally! I was starting to wonder when you'd realize I’m prime dating material.” But he couldn’t keep the grin off his face: wide, a little crooked, and definitely too proud.

Gilbert immediately ran to tell West like a kid with candy. “VEST! GUESS WHO GOT ASKED OUT BY A HANDSOME GUY? THIS GUY!” Ludwig blinked slowly. “Please don’t yell it in the grocery store.” Gilbert didn’t care, he was beaming. And totally bragging on Instagram.

He definitely tried to flex harder after you asked. Extra push-ups. Dramatic poses. Laughing a little too loudly at his own jokes. You rolled your eyes and said, “You already won, dumbass. No need to peacock.” He flushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Despite all his bragging, he got really nervous before the first date. He changed outfits five times, googled “how to be an awesome boyfriend,” and panicked over cologne. “I don’t even know what he likes! Does he like birds? Should I bring Gilbird?!” It was oddly sweet seeing how much effort he poured into trying to impress you.

The second you told him you liked his laugh, he started laughing more. Loud, obnoxious, but genuine because he realized someone actually loved the sound of it. He caught himself mid-chuckle one night and muttered, “You really like all this, huh?”

He still bragged constantly, but now he added you to the mix. “My boyfriend? Hot. Smart. Vay cooler than vest. And did I mention he asked me out?” He never stopped being dramatic, but now his chaos was shared. And when he looked at you, there was something soft in his grin

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It started as a regular afternoon at the park, sun beaming down like it had something to prove, and Gilbert Beilschmidt sitting crookedly on the backrest of a bench like he owned the whole city. His laughter rang loud and sharp, scaring away a couple pigeons and drawing a few annoyed glances from passersby. He was joking about something dumb, probably involving beer, Gilbird, or Ludwig’s inability to “be awesome” and you were laughing too, even if mostly at him rather than with him. You'd always admired how he could light up a space, chaotic and unapologetic, like a firework someone forgot to contain.

You didn’t plan to say anything. Really, you didn’t. But the words were bubbling in your throat like shaken soda, and when he turned to you with that wild, red-eyed grin, it just slipped out. “Hey, Gilbert,” you said, casually, too casually like this wasn’t the biggest emotional risk you'd ever taken. “Wanna go out sometime? Like... on a date?”

There was a full beat of silence. Gilbert froze mid-laugh, his mouth still slightly open, eyebrows climbing in slow confusion. It was almost funny, seeing someone who called himself the embodiment of “awesome” get sideswiped by a sentence. He blinked. Once. Twice. Then he sat down properly for the first time in the hour, shoulders stiff, fingers twitching a little on his knees. “Vait. Seriously?” he asked, quieter than you’d expected. “Yeah,” you replied, trying not to wince. “Unless that’s a problem?”

Gilbert stared at you like you had asked him to solve nuclear physics. He rubbed the back of his neck, his cocky mask wobbling at the edges. “I mean... wow. You—you really just asked me out, huh?” His voice cracked just enough to make him scowl at himself. “I mean, of course you would! Who wouldn’t want to date me? Heh. Ha.”

You raised an eyebrow, arms crossed as you leaned on the backrest beside him. “So is that a yes or are you just going to keep rambling until Gilbird dies of secondhand embarrassment?”

That made him snort. “Okay, rude, but yeah. Yeah, it’s a yes.” His eyes softened even though his smirk returned full-force. “You’ve got guts, asking out a legend like me. Guess I gotta return the favor and be the best damn boyfriend in history.” He gave a small laugh, a real one this time, and nudged your arm with his elbow, looking proud but secretly flustered. “Tch… You’re lucky I like guys with taste.”

He said it like a joke, like something tossed out to cover the way his ears had gone pink. But there was something real in his voice too: something that sounded a lot like gratitude. And as the sun dipped a little lower and the pigeons reclaimed their bench. Gilbert leaned back with a contented sigh and muttered under his breath, “Damn... he actually picked me.”

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Antonino Fernandez Carriedo - SPAIN

You asked him out during a lazy afternoon picnic while he was peeling an orange. He blinked, smiled wide then blinked again, like his brain didn’t quite catch up. “Wait… you mean, like date-date?” he asked, orange peel hanging from his fingers. When you nodded, he beamed so brightly you swore the sun dimmed in comparison.

He tried to play it smooth after the shock wore off, but his voice cracked when he said yes. His smile turned sheepish, and he ran a hand through his messy curls. You could tell he wasn’t used to being the one asked, but he adored it.

He spent the rest of the day randomly bursting into little hums and grins. Cooking? Humming. Watering his tomatoes? Grinning like a lovesick teenager. Even Romano accused him of being “disgustingly sparkly.”

When you asked, he immediately offered to cook for you on your first date. He even carved a tiny heart into a tomato without realizing it. His entire kitchen smelled like garlic, paprika, and nervous excitement.

He told all his friends within the hour, even the ones who didn’t ask. “You’ll never guess who asked me out today! He’s smart, he’s kind, and he’s muy guapo!” France pretended to swoon, England rolled his eyes, and Romano stormed out. Antonio? Still too excited to care. His heart had wings that day.

He kept rereading your text message or replaying the moment over in his head. Not because he didn’t believe it happened but because it made him happy every time. His voice went all soft when he talked about you. Even his tomatoes seemed to grow happier when he mentioned your name.

Every time you complimented him, he lit up like a Christmas tree. “You like my smile? Ay, mi corazón… You’re going to make me melt!” He said it with a teasing wink, but his voice always got soft.

Antonio swore he’d make every date feel like a festival. From stargazing under blankets to street food walks, he always found ways to celebrate you. He never stopped calling you guapo, mi sol, or mi amor.

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The late afternoon sun made the courtyard glow golden, casting shadows that danced with the breeze through the olive trees. Antonio was humming to himself as he leaned over the garden box, dirt smudged across his fingers, gently coaxing a tomato vine to stand straighter. His shirt clung to his back in spots from the heat, and his curls were pulled back haphazardly with a loose hair tie. You stood nearby, trying to time your heartbeat into something normal and failing spectacularly.

He looked over his shoulder with a smile that had no business being so radiant. “Hey! You’ve been awfully quiet. You okay?” he asked, brushing a leaf from his cheek. You nodded, lips parted, heart hammering like it had just realized what you were about to do. This wasn’t rehearsed. No grand plan. Just you and the words that had been burning a hole in your chest for weeks now.

“I was wondering,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt, “if maybe you’d like to go out sometime? On a date. With me.” The last words fell like pebbles into still water, soft but undeniable. Antonio froze for a moment, one hand still hovering over the vines, and then slowly turned to face you fully. His eyes warm, green, always smiling searched yours with something deeper than surprise.

“A date?” he echoed, like he needed to taste the word on his tongue. Then his smile returned, bright and slow like the rising sun. “You’re serious?” he asked, stepping closer. There was no teasing in his tone, no laugh playing at the corners of his lips, just genuine wonder. You nodded again, breath held tight, and his face lit up like you’d handed him the world wrapped in a bow.

“Dios mío,” he whispered, a little breathlessly. “I didn’t think someone like you would ever ask someone like me.” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes crinkling as he laughed: soft, sweet, disbelieving. “You just made this the best day I’ve had in… probably forever.” The dirt on his hands didn’t matter. The sweat, the sun, none of it mattered. He looked at you like you’d just turned the whole sky into something softer.

You laughed too, caught off guard by the sudden rush of joy blooming between you. “So, is that a yes?” you asked, a bit teasing now, feeling a weight lift. Antonio grinned, full and glowing. “¡Sí! Yes, absolutely. I’d love to go out with you. Just tell me when, and I’ll bring flowers and maybe even dance in the street if you want.” He chuckled at himself, cheeks warm, and reached out to squeeze your hand gently.

In that golden courtyard, hands brushing and hearts both racing, you realized something beautiful. Asking him out hadn’t just opened a door. It had started something that already felt like home.

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roughentumble · 3 years ago

Text

when it comes to stand alone properties i genuine think 999 is just A Better Game, to quote yahtzee croshaw of zero punctuation fame, "it's a tighter whole, and i do like a nice, tight hole"

like, the ending is more emotional, it's a little more direct, with a very singular goal that really emotionally resonates. i like the controls better, i like the graphics better, and by virtue of being a first game that mostly works without a sequel, everything Feels a lot more complete by the time it's finished

but i cant exactly get mad at vlr for being a middle game in a trilogy, even if it means the ending of it doesnt make me sob like 999's so much as it just. makes me /ache/. plus, im almost certain some of my control quibbles come from moving across platforms, as i played 999 on the DS and vlr on my vita. and the game's just expansively BIGGER, with like..... what, twenty endings??? versus 999's 6.

and i like how the timeline mechanics are different to emphasize the way the different characters are experiencing Weird Time Stuff!!!! junpei being forced to live through every single loop, versus sigma jumping anywhere anytime he wants to, is because they're experiencing something different. the different types of gameplay are informing how you understand these different protagonist's situations and abilities and experiences! sigma and junpei simply Feel different to play, without the games losing what makes them Feel original, Feel like the same series. while also updating the gameplay format to make it, quite honestly, slightly less frustrating to play. really great stuff!!

(*grumble grumble* i still prefer the 999 method of forcing you to replay the entire game up to the diverging plot point, but what do i know, im just a crumudgeon *grumble grumble*)

i understand why they changed how you access the timeline, both from an external and internal reason. which is exactly how these things should be married in a video game, if at all possible.

and i like vlr!!! its good!!!!!! i love how many times dio gets kicked, its funny!!!!!

#also spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers spoilers BUT. but. as much as it broke my fucking heart #like that bit at the end where junpei is like thats not akane anymore i dont understand her!!! ;A;#and it shows these different worldviews how akane wants to save Everyone even in the past #but junpei wants to live Now he wanrs to save everyone Now #and doesnt like the idea of the life he's lived being discounted or erased!!!!#oh my god. it was soooooo.#she just wanted to find him and marry him and have a normal life with him but she couldnt she had to save the world.#but for what. for what. arent the lives of the people who survived worth anything? the love and fear and hope and determination they had?#im screaming. vlr you are making me SCREAM

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maxwell-grant · 4 years ago

Note

In the spirit of Terry Gilliam: conceive a movie called "America", which has nothing to do with America except in the most oblique way. Dystopia optional.

You can't just ask me to come up with something where I'm NOT supposed to build it by connecting the dots but, okay, I'll give it a shot.

Okay so, Terry Gilliam's Brazil is a movie that doesn't take place in Brazil (...I think, I'm not sure where it's supposed to take place but it definitely doesn't seem like it's intended to be Brazil), isn't about Brazil or anything Brazilian in any form, and literally the only reason why it's even called Brazil is because they picked a Brazilian song to name the film after. But the song itself is still significant to the film's theme, because it's a romantic whistling tune set as the backdrop of a brutally decadent dystopian nightmare that the protagonist is desperately trying to find an outlet from in the form of daydreams of a better life, which he finds in the end when he's lobotomized and abandoned in the room, humming the movie's theme to himself.

I guess if I had to do what you're asking and to for America what Brazil did for Brazil, I guess I'd have to create something:

Named after a American song titled America

The film employs the song America for ironic effect, although the song itself cannot be ironic

Absolutely no part of the plot or characters or locations or etc, must refer to America in any form, in fact it should strive to be as diametrically opposite as possible

Have it be weird, because you might as well not bother referencing Terry Gilliam in any capacity if you're not gonna make it weird

Since I don't want to make Brazil again, there's gonna be no dystopia and we're gonna jump locations outside of one city. Also, it's a cartoon, and it's dubbed in Portuguese, and it's a musical.

I guess for a start, I'd pick U2's America's Song

youtube

As the main theme of the film. However, the soundtrack is all done in the style of Jean-Jacques Perrey.

The main character's name is Eric, and he's just escaped from a secret base along with all the other lab specimens and monsters in it. This is the opening of the movie. And he looks like this

It's never made clear what exactly he is, if he's a brain shaped like a hat, or a sentient hat that's just shaped like a brain, or if he's both brain and hat, or something else entirely. Eric is functionally immortal, and can walk and move around with specialized blood vessel tentacles, like Dio's head at the end of Phantom Blood. He doesn't need to eat or sleep, but he still needs to keep hydrated, and he is upset because he has no body, so he can't talk, and all he really ever wanted was to sing, and to have people love him for his singing. But unfortunately every time he tries to talk he just makes unnerving gurgling sounds.

It makes him very sad.

He is, however, able to fit into the heads of people to control their movements and sing through them (he doesn't control their minds though, they can talk back and think, they just can't control what they do anymore), which is how we get the "I Want" song early on where he tells us. Except, he's got pretty particular tastes, I mean you'd have to, if you were a sentient brain experimented on for god knows how long, who's wanted nothing in life but to sing, and though he understands singing and how to manipulate vocal cords to do it, unfortunately his voice right now isn't as good as it should be, so he wants to find a new one.

And so the whole movie is kind of him going through a journey where he goes from place to place and person to person trying to find the right voice, and because this is a musical, he always finds people who are in the middle of some problem that he ends up helping fix through music and impromptu music numbers. Sometimes one of the monsters who appears in the opening scene show up trying to pass by unnoticed, they never stick around when he tries to talk to them, and it does make Eric a bit sad, that they find him unnerving still even though he's got a voice now.

The whole time he always finds a new excuse to go body surfing, he can never be satisfied with what he has. It's always a voice that's too low or too high, a body that he's not comfortable with, it's always a place that's too noisy or with too much reverb, and really his whole arc is that he's deeply insecure and he just isn't confident in himself enough to actually go through with performing in public.

His arc is him coming to terms with it and ultimately finding the strength to perform as himself, with no additional body. He finds a way to broadcast his true voice, and his previous hosts put together a packed presentation for him. He steels his courage and does it.

And it all goes really well, and he performs America's Song to an adoring audience.

May liberty and justice ring for all

Let your dreams stand tall

May opportunities fall upon you

In the land of the free

In fact, he sings so well, that the brains of his previous hosts, all the audience members and those watching it via livestream, burst out of their craniums as the bodies collapse, and the brains start all jumping along to the song

We have come

And we have prevailed

Who so ever dreamed, this is your will

And here we are

Here we are

We get an extended montage of special forces-type goons hunting down all of the monsters seen prior, as throughout the movie they've been chasing Eric's trail and picking off all the monsters that were supposedly helping him, and none of them were, they all tried fleeing and never hurt anyone. In fact we find out that the monsters were all running from Eric at the start, they bolted out of the facility mainly because of him.

We also get to see the brains forcing themselves on the nearest living humans, through their ears or mouths or eyes, and they all immediately start singing as well.

And may God (may God)

Keep us together

Cause America (America)

Is beautiful (beautiful)

The movie ends with Eric taking off into the sunset Pied Piper-style, intoxicated by newfound feelings of friendship and acceptance, with a whole gaggle of brains and brain-piloted bodies following him and all dancing off and singing into the sunset.

America

America is beautiful (beautiful, yes it is)

My America

Your America

Our America is beautiful

America

Is beautiful to me

And I swear I did not intend for this to be social commentary, I had no idea that this was going where it ended, I just kinda picked a dumb premise and tried running it to maybe the worst possible outcome, but I guess it's kinda inevitable that a story's gonna be charged when you give a title like this to it.

Anyway, that's what I came up with. It's a terrible idea I have zero qualms about sharing openly because I doubt I'll ever do anything with it, but there you go, this is me doing, uuh, Texeira Gilson's America (not my name, but a "Brazili-fied" take on Terry Gilliam's name)

#replies tag #i have no idea what to even tag this #terry gilliam #brazil #america

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1kook · 6 years ago

Text

late fee

jeon jeongguk x (f) reader

summary: “Captain Underpants isn’t glorified by all the tryhards, so when I pick those books, you’re unknowingly more interested in me.” tags: f2l, flirty kook, jk’s obsession w/captain underpants, he’s a fuckboy but he’s a soft fuckboy dont get it twisted, campus boy crush jk(yes again), jk abuses the FuCK out of pet names, miss koo1aid actually writes some PLOT warnings: much flirting, nsfw bc of a lot of heavy petting, pussy eatin’, a lil dirty talk, very s l i g h t coochie sniffing, BUT!!! protected sex :) wc: 10.3k

i wrote another fic (applause) and the entire thing is based off my belief that jungkook 10000% would enjoy captain underpants books. not proofread bc i am a hermit and speak to exactly 0 ppl on here, que dios los bendiga

“Helloooo, sexy librarian,” Jeongguk says the moment he steps through the door, lopsided grin adorning his features as he swaggers over to obnoxiously lean against your desk. You can’t even pretend you didn’t see him, his presence so blaringly consuming, and evident in the way some dorky high schoolers glance over to gawk at him.

“What book are you checking out today, Jeon?” You muse instead, leaving your desk chair to head over to the stack of new books that needed to be stamped. As you turn, Jeongguk whistles at the sight, and you don’t even have it in you anymore to retort back the same way you would when he first started bugging you. “Also, are you aware that your copy of Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants is due tomorrow? It’s a dollar for every day it’s late—”

“You needn’t worry longer, baby,” Jeongguk interrupts, and the loud smack of a hardcover against the desk catches your attention. There lies Jeongguk’s Captain Underpants book, alongside the paperback copy of Beloved that has definitely seen better days.

You furrow your brows. “When did you check out this one?” You question, checking the spine to make sure the book belongs to your library. Much to your surprise, there’s no barcode on the side, and no stamp on the inside.

Your question goes unanswered as Jeongguk jumps into a full-length novella recapture of the hot frat party he’d been to last weekend, and how the Zeta Theta Psi guys knew how to party. That Jimin fellow that Jeongguk frequently mentions had apparently snorted a line of coke off their friend Seokjin’s broad shoulders just to prove his friend had godly proportions. It’s weird, but Jeongguk says it’s because you have to ride for your bros. You try to act uninterested, but Jeongguk’s a funny guy, really, and you can only hide so many chuckles with the sound of a stamp.

He’s in the middle of trying to cover up of one of his frequent trysts after accidentally exposing himself—”Don’t get it twisted, baby, I just took her upstairs to call her friend.”—when Namjoon comes out of the back room looking for you. He barely glances at your guest, before handing you a list of overdue books.

“Would you mind calling these people?” He asks, voice soft, just as everything else was about Namjoon. “They’re all a week past.”

“Yikes,” you say, eyes scanning over the list. Surprisingly, Jeongguk is still there, hovering over you as if waiting for you to dismiss him. “Do you mind, Jeon?” You say, channeling your best customer service voice. As much as Namjoon was wary of him, he still considered Jeongguk a patron in your establishment and hated to see him treated poorly, no matter how many library rules Jeongguk broke.

“Of course,” he sighs, and you miss the hostile glare he throws Namjoon when you whirl around for a highlighter. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart,” he says when you turn back around, stretching ana rm in your direction.

Half of you knows exactly what he’ll do, but the other half of you, the one trying desperately to act like his advances have no effect on you, have you placing your palm in his. You’re not super surprised when he tugs your hand upward, pecking your knuckles with a flirty wink. “Adios, Juliet,” he smirks.

“Wrong language,” you inform him, rolling your eyes nonchalantly even though your heart is beating one hundred miles per second. Jeongguk cackles, loud as all hell in the silent library, before making his exit.

It’s silent for all of twenty seconds before Namjoon jumps right into it. “So are you seeing him, or…” he interrogates, trying to act like he’s hardly interested, but you’ve known and worked alongside Namjoon long enough to know he’s secretly the community gossip.

You ignore him, choosing to jam the buttons on the phone instead.

The weird thing about Jeongguk, was that, although he was notoriously known amongst the undergraduates (and even some graduates, because he just had it like that, you suppose) as one of the biggest fuckboys, he was different. Not to sound like every teen romcom you’d ever scanned, but he genuinely was. For starters, he’d fuck your brains out and then make you his best friend the morning after. He definitely had a very peculiar, and backwards, way of doing the whole one night stand thing.

All this you’ve gathered from your friends, who, at one point have had some sort of encounter with Jeongguk. Dahyun’s was last spring at a club event, when he’d oh so smoothly flirted with her for a solid hour before realizing she didn’t swing that way. Which is how they become close friends, which is how, by association, Jeongguk set his sights on you.

Your introduction to Jeongguk wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; he’d been tagging along behind Dahyun like a lost puppy, begging her for some class notes, and had subsequently followed her all the way to your favorite meeting place. From then, he’d dropped his petulant, childish act and put on his macho face, chest puffed and eyes hooded as he devoured your very presence.

The next time you see him, it’s at a frat party where some guy had been harping on you go upstairs with him. Another weird thing about Jeongguk, he hated when other fuckboys didn’t utilize their brains. You assume it’s because it gives the fuckboy community a bad rep as a whole, but Jeongguk hated when guys were overbearing. So he’d taken the initiative to snatch you away from that fellow, guiding you all the way back to Dahyun and friends just to make sure you were alright. Somewhere along the way, you’d informed him you worked at the local library—”The one that does bingo on Tuesdays?” “That’s for senior citizens only, why do you know that?”—and he’d never left you alone again.

This time, he spots you in the dining hall.

“You come here often, dollface?” He says the moment he slides up beside you, instantly zeroing in on the burrito wrap on your plate. Like the little immature baby he is, his hand immediately snakes out to touch the precariously wrapped white tortilla holding the deliciousness inside, and you have to physically slap the offender away. He jumps, bumping into a girl standing in line behind him, not that particularly cares. “So, it’s fuck Jeongguk hours, huh?” He huffs, adorning his face with that uppity glare he mastered from watching Mean Girls on repeat a few months ago.

“Your plate is stacked, but you wanna grab the one thing on mine,” you point out, and his lips curl into a smile at your response. “By the way, your book is past due.”

At this he gasps, all real, no Regina George effects added. “You’re lying,” he chokes, switching his plate to his other hand, and you nearly jump when the muffin balancing dangerously on top shifts. He tugs his phone out of the pocket of his sweats, scanning through his remind app until he sees that his book is overdue by three days. He groans, staring at the ceiling in shame.

You nod, breezing over his inner meltdown. “Was wondering when we were gonna get the wedgie winner, or whatever its called, back.”

He scoffs, giving you an unimpressed glare. “Wrath of the Wicked Wedgie Woman,” he corrects, looking so disappointed that you don’t have these bizarre titles memorized. “For such a pretty librarian, you sure are ignorant to these literary masterpieces.”

This makes you cackle, and your cheeks flush when at least three people turn to stare at your outburst. “You aren’t seriously calling these Captain Underpants books masterpieces,” you snort. Jeongguk shrugs, and you begin to wonder if he really is as airheaded as the characters he admires. “Jeon,” you try to reason, giving him a pleading look, because arguing the credibility of kids novels in line for lunch simply does not seem real. You must have been warped into another dimension where all pretty boys are as dumb as the movies make them out to seem.

“Listen,” he says, smiling when you grow desperate for him to prove you wrong. “I’ve read a lot of good books, but nothing tops a hypnotized superhero principal fighting crime in his underwear.”

You sigh, paying for your meal, and then, surprisingly, waiting for him to pay for his. You tell yourself it’s because you want to finish this conversation, but part of you just genuinely enjoys being in Jeongguk’s presence. Gag.

“I saw you with Beloved last week,” you carry on the second he’s done giving flirty eyes to the middle-aged cashier. “Now that’s a masterpiece.”

He nods in agreement. “But, baby,” he purrs, and the sudden switch from weird, 12 year-old literary enthusiast to grown as hell, suave bastard has you jolting a step that you try to play off by pretending to look at something on the ground. “How else will you remember my face?”

You blank. “What the hell are you talking about.”

Jeongguk gives you a pointed look. “Sweetheart, you wouldn’t remember a damn thing about me if I did what every other stuck-up bastard did trying to pick up chicks at the library.” You tilt your head in confusion. Jeongguk sighs. “If I went in every rainy Friday and checked out a Tale of Two Cities, or Oliver Twist, or some other Charles Dickens shit, you wouldn’t glance my way.”

“Do people still read Dickens?” You say instead, glossing over the fact that apparently Jeongguk’s visits were apparently blatant attempts to flirt with girls. Finally, you find a suitable spot at a long, dinner table so you don’t have to sit completely alone with Jeongguk.

“You know damn well better than I do that that those wannabe sophisticated books have waitlists.” He shoves half a pizza slice into his mouth, and you hate how your eyes immediately laser in on the strong movements of his jaw. “My point is,” he says through a greasy mouthful. “Captain Underpants isn’t glorified by all the tryhards, so when I pick those books, you’re unknowingly more interested in me.”

You cradle your burrito in your palms, rolling his words around your head for a bit. Jeongguk doesn’t particularly seem like he’s awaiting an answer, munching through the mountain of food on his plate as you revel in your thoughts.

It’s right when you go to take your first bite that you finally come to a conclusion. “But have you ever considered I’m interested in you because I think you’re funny?”

Silence. Jeongguk stares at you through his fringe, pizza slice slowly going limp in his hold as he absorbs your words. Before you know it, his ears flush red. He splutters. “I-You think I’m funny?” He asks, cheeks slowly growing rosy as well, and his lips quirk in a cute way to the side, as if he’s trying desperately to hide his excitement.

You nod, because it’s true, why would you lie? “Duh. You come in every week and just talk about your day, Jeongguk,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “I think you’re very interesting and entertaining without trying.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, and for the first time, you’re thrown off by how adorable this man looks, lips pressed tight to contain a smile from your compliments.

Realization hits you all at once, but you’ve long since trained in the fluid art of avoiding your emotions.

“There’s a party tonight,” Dahyun announces from her desk, not even bothering to glance at you when you return from the showers. You hum, not really that interested in whatever is going on this fine Thursday evening. You plop down at your own desk, starting your skincare routine.

Dahyun lets you relax in the soothing motions of self care for all of three seconds before she adds, “Jeongguk wanted to know if you’re coming.”

You press down too hard on the pump of your moisturizer, sending a large glomp onto the tips of your fingers. “That’s nice,” you say, trying to play it off, but you doubt Dahyun hadn’t heard the little spaz you had, or that she couldn’t sense the way your body immediately lit aflame at the mention of him and you in the same sentence.

She turns in her seat, and you catch sight of her in your mirror. You avert your eyes right away, because Dahyun had many talents, and her best one was reading your mind with a single gaze. You maintain an aura of unbothered and uninterested, finishing with the rest of your skincare.

Just when you think you’re safe, Dahyun pounces.

“Y’know,” she says, and you can hear the grin in her voice. “He hasn’t slept with anyone in almost a month. In fuckboy time, that’s the equivalent of two years.”

You roll your eyes, putting away your products before trying to busy yourself with anything else. “He probably has, but with people who know how to keep their mouths shut.”

Faintly, you hear Dahyun’s chair scrape against the carpet, and then suddenly she has you in a headlock. “Admit you like Jeongguk or I will throw your toothbrush into the toilet on the third floor.”

You choke, grappling her arms in an attempt to pry her off. “No,” you huff, switching tactics to tangle a hand in her silver locks. “Why would I confess to something that isn’t true?”

She shrieks when you give a sharp tug, sending her careening sideways against the foot of your bed, but not without taking you with her. “You are lying to yourself and to the entire librarian community, you sick fuck.”

You snort. “The fuck does Namjoon have to do with this?”

“He told me Jeongguk’s been bringing you Starbucks.”

Her reveal has you halting in your tracks, cheeks flushing at being exposed. “That gossiping fuck,” you seethe, finally loosening your grip on your friend. Somehow, you’ve ended up sprawled on the floor of her side of the room, nestled into the stupidly fluffy carpet she thrifted. She rolls onto her belly, propping herself up on her elbows to narrow her eyes at you.

“So it’s true,” she sighs. You shrug. “Well,” she claps her hands together. “Shimmy into that sexy dress from Windsor, we’re going out.”

You groan, rolling over in metaphorical agony. “Dude, I just washed my face. No way in hell, I’m putting on makeup now.” She considers your point for negative three seconds.

“The Glow Kit is in my bottom left drawer,” she announces right as she exits the room with her towel and shower essentials in hand.

The Glow Kit is in fact in Dahyun’s drawer, which is a little suspicious considering it’s the same one you thought you lost three months ago. Nonetheless, it never lets you down, and by the time you’re done with your makeup, you’re looking like a shimmering, little succubus in the hot dress from Windsor.

Normally, you and your self-esteem were rivals; never on the same page, always bickering, sworn enemies from birth. But right now, as you admire yourself in the closet mirror, you can’t help but marvel at how good you look in the slightly loose dress.

“Damn,” Dahyun says as soon as she returns, all fluffy in her towel. “You will fuck tonight, or else.”

“Hey, baby,” Jeongguk smiles at you the moment you walk in, hooded eyes raking over your body in an agonizingly slow manner. Dahyun chooses then to do her party trick—disappearing without a word.

“Hi…” you respond, voice meek in this party setting. There’s more people than you anticipated, which is weird because it’s a Thursday and surely some of these people have morning classes. You can’t comment, though, because you’re here knowing damn well you have an eight am tomorrow.

The music is blasting, so loud you can feel the bass shaking the floor, sending jolts up from your toes to your head with every beat. There’s people in every crevice of this household, some even taking refuge on the staircase leading up to the bedrooms. Someone brushes by you, and you instinctively step closer to the wall to avoid being in the way. You should have known Jeongguk would follow.

He ducks down to shout into your ear. “Wasn’t sure if you were coming tonight,” he tells you, right as one of his friends rushes by, thrusting a cup into his hand that Jeongguk doesn’t even stop to question. He takes a sip, then offers you some.

“Dahyun didn’t wanna come alone,” you lie, tentatively sipping from his cup only to realize it’s worse than any alcohol here: it’s Sprite. Jeongguk seems amused by your subtle disgust, immediately taking the cup back. You send out a light prayer for his stomach and his skin. “Aren’t you supposed to be out pulling hoes or something?” You say, trying to go for teasing and playful but missing by a mile.

Jeongguk grins. “Why would I do that when the only girl I want is right here,” he motions, and then does that cliche move where he places a hand by the wall behind you. The worst thing is, even though Jeongguk seems intent on pulling every cheesy act known to mankind, your heart actually races.

“Shut up,” you laugh, “you just like that I don’t charge you the late fees on your books.”

At this, Jeongguk genuinely smiles, nose scrunching up as he gazes at you. “False,” he argues, and then leans forward, same stupid dopey smile on his face. “I love a woman who snorts milk out of her nose.”

“Jeon!” You shriek, smacking his arm as embarrassment washes over you. “You said you would forget about that!”

Jeongguk cackles, all boyish and rough like he does when he’s around Hoseok for too long. Somehow, knowing you’re the cause of that charming laughter has your annoyance fading away, a soft smile crawling onto your features.

“I hate you,” you say instead, looking up and meeting his gaze dead on for the first time that night.

Jeongguk smirks. “Do you now?” He throws back, then takes a step forward. Your shoulder touches the wall when you take a tentative step back. You give a half-assed shrug, entranced by the playfulness that lurks behind his eyes. He gives you an exaggerated pout. “That sucks, because I,” he steps closer again, and this time he’s looking down at you over the bridge of his nose, “really like you.”

“I…” you trail off, too hypnotized by the pink tongue that swipes across his lips as he gazes at you. There is no hesitation on his face.

When you don’t say anything for another moment, Jeongguk ducks down. His nose bumps against yours, his breath warm as it fans across your face. “Y’know, I’d treat you so right,” he suddenly says, and your panties immediately turn into Niagara Falls at the newfound deepness of his voice. You feel lightheaded from his close proximity and promising words. “Could make you feel so good, baby, if you just let me.”

You shiver, nearly jumping out of your skin when a hand snakes its way around your waist, tugging you forward gently. Not overbearingly, because you know the last thing Jeongguk would ever do was want to make you uncomfortable. He pulls you close enough that it ends up being you who steps completely into his embrace. Your trembling hands find their place on his shoulders, and Jeongguk has never looked more content.

“You... only want sex,” you softly accuse, and the only reason your quiet voice doesn’t get lost in the noise is because of how close the two of you are.

Jeongguk bites his lip at your words, and you wonder if part of him is surprised that you’d so openly say such a thing. “Not with you,” he says eventually. “Wanna hold you like this forever, ___. And if that leads to you cumming on my tongue every now and then, well,” he smiles, “all fine by me.”

“Jeon,” you scold, scared that someone might have heard him.

“What?” He grins, pressing impossibly closer. His lip gives the slightest pucker, and you find yourself unconsciously leaning closer, the hand around your waist tightening. “I want you, baby.”

You can’t hide the lovestruck expression on your face as you look between his mouth and his eyes, and you wonder if he’s being honest.

Right as you’re about to throw all your doubts out the window and kiss him, you’re bombarded with the sound of obnoxious air horns from a DJ who obviously knows shit about, well, DJ-ing.

You jump at the sudden sound, bumping your head against the wall behind you. Jeongguk’s eyes widen. “Oh shit, are you okay?” He fusses, all traces of that suave, heartthrob replaced with a fretful Jeon.

“I’m fine,” you say, though you’re not because you’re absolutely dying right now. From the fact you almost gave into Jeongguk but also the embarrassment of hitting your head. “I-I need to find Dahyun,” you announce, and give Jeongguk no time to process that before you’re bolting into the crowded house like you just broke something.

jeon tell me you got home safe jeon please

You pause in the middle of removing your makeup, one eyelash on to symbolize the mess you are right now. Dahyun is humming some tune as she does the same, the both of you clad in your pajamas and fuzzy socks. Carefully, you pick up your phone.

you im home! me and the girls ubered home lol you sorry i didnt get to say goodbye :(

jeon dont worry abt it babe jeon just happy to know ur ok

“You better be texting Jeongguk, since you failed to complete the one job you had tonight,” Dahyun calls and you curse. You whirl around to face her, and she snorts at your one eyelash.

“Be honest,” you say. “If you were the campus crush who could get coochie every time he breathed, would you leave all that for me?”

Dahyun freezes. “Well, not when you’re only wearing one eyelash.” You groan, flopping into your seat uncomfortably. “Babe,” Dahyun sighs, as if sensing the gravity of your dilemma. “You’re hot! Everyone knows this except you.”

“But am I?” You whine. “Am I attractive or do you just feel obligated to say that because you’re my friend, be honest.”

“Oh my god,” she huffs, climbing into her bed, phone in hand. She doesn’t even bother looking your way when she’s all settled in. “You have this weird idea that Jeongguk is some intangible idol, as if you haven’t seen the dude deepthroat an entire bratwurst at the diversity fair. If anything, you’re the dream girl on campus, you stupid bitch.”

“The only true thing I heard is me being a stupid bitch,” you mope, and Dahyun throws a pillow at your face. You take this attack as initiative to finally take off your other lash, finishing your cleansing and moisturizing (for the second time) routine.

“Listen,” she says, setting her phone down to stare you dead in the eye. Her voice is devoid of any emotion. “If it makes you feel better, he wrote JK + __ on our group handout last week.”

You don’t sleep that night.

The last person you’re expecting to see at this secluded cafe on a Saturday morning was Jeon Jeongguk, yet here he was in all his delicious morning glory. By morning glory, you mean the soft, sleepy eyes that stare at you from across the table, voice so deep and husky.

“Why are you here if you just woke up?” You interrogate, settling into the empty seat in front of him. Carefully, you begin pulling things out of your bag, trying your best to not look away too long. This sight was rare, Jeongguk usually being at an energy level of about eighty seven at all times. To see him so tired and sluggish was unheard of.

He gestures over to where Taehyung is in the middle of what looks like a job interview. “Moral support,” Jeongguk informs you. You nod in understanding, before returning your gaze to the sleepy angel in front of you.

He’s ridiculously tired, eyes dropping shut every time you so much as pause for a second. He seems apologetic too, murmuring I’m sorry I’m sorry whenever his eyes flutter shut. Your heart was going haywire at the sight. “Jeon,” you say softly, and get one, soft hum in response. “I think you should go home, Taehyung seems fine.”

He shakes his head. “Needs me,” he murmurs, trying desperately to snap his eyes back open to no avail. Eventually, you make the call, packing your things up way earlier than usual. You haul Jeongguk out of his seat, him sleepily trailing after you as you drag him out of the shop. He sleeps on the short bus ride back to campus, and even almost sleeps on the elevator up to his dorm.

“In we go,” you announce, unlocking his door before nudging him inside. His roommate is nowhere to be found, oddly enough given the early hour. Jeongguk stumbles inside, plopping down on his bed right away. “Sleep.”

He lets out a high pitched whine the moment you turn to leave. “Come cuddle,” he huffs, face pressed against his pillow. His hair’s haloed around him, pout smushed against the cushion as he stares at you.

“You need to sleep,” you point out.

He rolls onto his back, patting the mattress beside him. “Wanna feel you,” he says. Your cheeks flush red. As if realizing the meaning behind his words, sleepy little Jeongguk takes the initiative to push you further. “Pressed against my body,” he drawls, his deep chuckle resonating throughout your body. “C’mon, baby, too scared to be in bed with me?”

You scoff, though your cheeks are warm. “You wouldn’t do anything anyway, you’re half asleep.”

Jeongguk shrugs, lips quirking to the side as he motions to his side again. “So? Can tell you like it slow anyway,” he grunts, before sitting up and shuffling to the edge of the bed and assuming a sitting position. Without warning, he catches your wrist in his hand and tugs you between his spread thighs.

He’s more awake than he’s been all morning, and part of you is happy but the other is anxious. God, was this boy dangerous.

“You’re half asleep, Jeon,” you say, trying to diffuse the sudden sexual tension. Jeongguk smiles up at you.

“Cmon, baby,” he exhales, and one fluid tug has you plopping onto his thigh. You startle at the sudden change, grabbing onto his shoulders for support. All he does is laugh some more, nuzzling his face against your neck as your heart goes into panic mode. “Bet I could get in so deep,” he murmurs, breath tickling your neck and you feel your legs turn to jelly.

“G-Gguk,” you try to warn, but it ends up sounding more like a plea. For what, you’re not entirely sure.

A sudden kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder has your spirit ascending into another plane. Jeongguk smiles at your pliant body. “Look at you,” he continues, kissing down your neck until your body is physically quivering. “So sensitive. No one ever touched you like this before, doll?”

You shake your head no, and nearly jump out of your own skin when a hand clasps onto the inside of your thigh. “Jeon, we shouldn’t…” you choke out, even though your traitorous hand clamps down on his and pushes it closer to where you need him most.

“We shouldn’t?” He teases, and then cups your sex.

You transcend.

Jeongguk laughs, airy chuckles fanning across your jaw. “Then stop,” he tells you, the both of you watching as your hips unconsciously grind into his palm. Even when you tell yourself you need to stop, your body feels heavenly being touched by him, so you physically can’t.

“I can’t,” you reiterate, and muffle a moan against the side of his face when he presses a finger down on where he knows your clit is hiding. The thin leggings you’d worn did nothing to spare you.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he sighs, watching you work yourself on his hand. He traces his index finger over the seam of your leggings, where your folds meet and you moan again. “You gonna let me finish you off, princess? Gonna let me finger your tight little pussy until you cry? But I bet you’d make the prettiest noises if I licked you down there. Or are you gonna cum in your panties like this?”

All the different ideas he stuffs into your brain are overwhelming, especially when the only thing you really want is to be stuffed with his fingers and cock. “J-Just do it,” you beg.

“Do what?” He plays, watching the way your face contorted with every brush against your mound.

“Whatever you want,” you cry, biting down on your fist to stop any more noises from spilling out.

Jeongguk smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Such a simple gesture, but it has your stomach somersaulting. God, you needed this. You were practically sobbing for his dick, which was embarrassing in itself, but actually getting dicked down sort of cancelled it out. PEMDAS or whatever.

Just as his hand creeps to the hem of your leggings, there’s a rattle of the doorknob, and you jump. The cloud of lust that had engulfed you two fades away and you’re suddenly aware of the jingling of a key outside.

“What the fuck,” Jeongguk whisper-shouts, looking absolutely scandalized that his roommate is coming home at this moment of all moments.

“Should I hide?” You whisper back, never having been in such a situation before. Jeongguk looks at you like you’re stupid.

“Just,” he sighs, standing up. He ruffles his hair anxiously. “Just… act natural.”

You sit perfectly still. “Not like a Sim!!”

“Captain Underpants and the Invasion of the Incredibly Naughty Cafeteria Ladies from Outer Space (and the Subsequent Assault of the Equally Evil Lunchroom Zombie Nerds),” you read, gasping for breath by the end of it. Jeongguk beams at you. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope,” Jeongguk says, leaning over the counter and watching as you scan his book under his name. “I’ll let you know how it is.”

You roll your eyes, writing down the return date on a piece of paper you stuff inside. “Please do, I’m absolutely dying to read this book.”

You hand the book over to Jeongguk, and try to ignore the way he stares at you for a second too long. Namjoon chooses this exact moment to take his lunch break, sauntering off whistling the the Angry Birds tune.

Right before Jeongguk can jump into an interrogation, the door swings open and Jisoo from your sociology elective saunters in, carrying the same mountain of books you had checked out for her two weeks ago.

“___, hi!” She exclaims right away. She, too, was infected with the same bimbo disease as Jeongguk, the one where they both had no concept of being quiet in a library.

“Hi,” you greet back, immediately standing to take the books from her. “Did you actually read through all of these?” You ask, trying to make polite small talk. You’re not particularly close to her, but it’d be rude to act like you didn’t know her.

She laughs at your comment. “Oh god, no. I just open random pages and reference them for essays,” she admits.

You try to make more small talk with her as you scan through her books, but the girl literally almost hit the material limit, which is fifty books, so you soon become consumed in scanning the barcode, briefly flipping through the book for any damage, and then repeating it all over. You’re not surprised when she drifts away, and you’re mentally cursing Namjoon for going on break now of all times.

It’s about ten minutes later when you’re all done, the computer’s library system going haywire on you, the same way it had when she first checked out all these books. You look away from the screen, standing to face Jisoo, only to find she’s drifted to the other end of the welcome desk, where a certain someone had gone to while you served her.

Oh.

You’re not anticipating the wave of jealousy that hits you watching gorgeous, smart Jisoo talk to Jeongguk. She matches him perfectly, both so beautiful it hurts. It’s when she says something to him that you snap out of it. “When can I come over again?” Soft enough that you wouldn’t have heard if you hadn’t been paying attention.

Jeongguk’s toying with a bookmark stand, but you still see the quirk of his lips on his face when she says that.

All you can do is watch from the sidelines, so close yet somehow miles away as he says something back to her that gets drowned out by the thundering of your heart. You suppose it’s only natural for a guy like Jeongguk to flirt with girls, and he’d never said he only, exclusively wanted you. Really, you shouldn’t be as surprised.

But you are.

You’re surprised and, dare you say it, discouraged by the scene. He’d been so eager to finally win you over the other night, so much so that he made you feel special with every word he uttered and every look he gave you. You’d almost believed in his sincerity, but seeing him so easily converse with Jisoo about whatever past they have, served as a cold reminder that you and Jeongguk believe in two completely different relationship styles.

So you sit back down, gnawing on your lip as you try to do other duties, clicking around uselessly on your computer until eventually, Jisoo wanders back.

“Am I all set?” She smiles, and you can’t even find it in you to dislike her. You plaster on your best customer service smile, nodding and handing her back her library card. She thanks you three times over for the hassle, before waving goodbye to you and Jeongguk.

When the door falls shut behind her, you immediately drop the facade, though Jeongguk doesn’t seem to notice. “Whew. She left a lot of work for you,” he laughs, eyeing the big stack beside you. You don’t even bother responding, as, at that moment, Namjoon returns from his lunch break.

(How convenient! You swear this fucker had a sixth sense for knowing when work was about to become hard.)

“Joon, I’m taking my break now,” you announce, and Namjoon stares at you like a deer in headlights, the last bite of a sandwich raised to his mouth.

“Uh,” he says, 140 IQ and all. He glances behind you at Jeongguk, who also is confused as all hell. “Okay, then.”

“___?” Jeongguk questions. You stalk off, pushing the gate away from the desk before bursting into the employee break room right across from it.

You cry the moment you get home, and Dahyun jumps ten feet out of her bed in shock. Her girlfriend, Momo, is sitting on the floor painting her toes. “Oh no,” she cries, sweet and understanding in all the ways Dahyun wasn’t. “My poor baby, what’s wrong?” She asks, waddling over in the my-nail-polish-hasn’t-dried-yet way to hug you.

“He was flirting with another girl,” you sob, dropping your bag by the door as Momo continues fawning over you, wiping your face with tissues. Dahyun gets out of bed, cracks her fingers, and promptly announces:

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Initially, you would have let her. But after a while you manage to calm down, loud Kim Kardashian sobs fading into tiny hiccups as the two of them coddle you. You tell them all about what terrible, good for nothing Jeongguk did, and in true female solidarity, they vow to kick his ass for you. Eventually, you settle on not whooping his ass, just cutting any romantic notions with him off to avoid further heartbreak. After all, you were kinda friends before you had your little crush revelation.

It’s later in the night when you announce you maybe got 2% over him, which the girls count as an absolute win, but then Jeongguk texts you and they groan at the way you jump for your phone.

jeon hey can we talk ? jeon did I do something wrong today? jeon felt like u were mad at me lol, and then u took a really long break and I had to leave for class so I didn’t even get to see u again jeon just wanna know if everything is ok

You read through the messages a couple times, and wonder if he’s being serious and didn’t see anything sus with his actions, or if he’s just toying with your emotions. Momo tugs Dahyun away to give you some sort of privacy, and then you’re left alone in your thoughts.

you everything’s fine ! you I just wasn’t feeling well lol

He responds right away.

jeon please don’t lie to me ___ jeon I know what you’re probably thinking and I just want to say it’s not like that

For some reason, him saying he knows you enough to know your thoughts irritates you. He obviously didn’t know shit about you if he was out here making you look like a clown. Your fingers type before you can even think.

you lmao you thats funny

jeon ?

you you most def do not know what I’m thinking so please just take my word when I say I felt sick

jeon lmao. what do you mean...

you you barely know ME besides the fact I work @ the library and dorm w Dahyun. don't say u know what I’m thinking, bc that would imply you know me on a closer level which you don’t

jeon ok seriously what's up with you? jeon im trying to make sure ur okay but ur just being difficult as fuck

you I’m not being difficult I’m just being real

jeon ur not tho, ur being defensive for no reason at all

you so? we’re barely friends and we barely know each other, how I feel is none of ur business

jeon lmfaoooo, so now we’re barely friends?

you thats what I said didnt I

You set your phone aside when you don’t immediately see the texting dots appear, assuming your dry response is probably enough to ward Jeongguk off. Your face feels warm, and you’re not sure if it’s from frustration or anger, but you guess it’s both. You’re not sure what set you off, the fact Jeongguk wants to act like he knows you, as if he wasn’t just chasing after you for some pussy, or the fact he wanted to act like some all-knowing being when it came to your feelings.

Eitherway, you’re extremely heated, grinding your teeth together when five minutes pass and he hasn’t texted you back. As if sensing the tension, Momo and Dahyun abruptly announce that they’re going to the ice cream place down the street, offering to bring something back to which you decline.

They leave, the heavy door slamming shut behind them. You get exactly two seconds of peace and quiet before your phone starts going off like crazy, all from Jeongguk.

jeon you’re starting to piss me off jeon drop the attitude baby. jeon bc I can be just as mean as u jeon and I won’t hesitate to make you cry

You blink. Every ounce of your body that had been consumed with an unknown anger slowly fades away as you stare wide eyed at Jeongguk’s messages. This was nothing like the Jeongguk you knew; he was soft and playful. He never raised his voice at you, and he’d never been anything less than a sweetheart.

you I don’t have an attitude

Is your feeble reply, too scared to reply to any other part of his message because you truly had no experience with this Jeongguk.

jeon so then put your big girl pants on and tell me what’s wrong jeon enough w this other shit

You sigh, snuggling into your covers as you absentmindedly tap the back of your phone.

you nothing is wrong

He doesn’t reply for a couple minutes again, but Dahyun sends you a text letting you know her and Momo decided to go to an event on the other side of campus, and telling you not to wait up. You reply back a simple ok right as Jeongguk responds.

jeon ok. so let me tell you what’s wrong then jeon you’re mad bc I was speaking to Jisoo today and she asked abt coming over jeon she comes over all the time jeon bc she is my roommates girlfriend

Your mind goes blank.

How embarrassing to have your mind read word for word, even more so when apparently, your worries weren’t even plausible. God. Instantly you feel stupid, replaying today’s entire scene and trying desperately to find something to catch Jeongguk in a lie. But other than asking that one question, there had been no other interesting talk between the two.

Your phone pings again, and you scramble to type a response, only to freeze at the words on the screen

jeon what blows me is that i don’t even owe u shit especially not an explanation jeon u don’t give 2 flying fucks about me. U just like the attention I give u and watching me make a fool of myself for u jeon I bend over backwards chasing after you, trying to get you to notice me, but you’ve done nothing to show me u feel the same jeon but you’re the one allowed to get mad when I speak to other girls? like u said “ that’s funny ”

Oh, no. Immediately your heart comes crashing down, and your fingers tremble as you watch Jeongguk slip away right before your eyes.

you Jeongguk you it’s not like that please you I like you so much, it’s just hard for me to

jeon to what? Get over your stupid stereotype of me?? jeon lmfao. Yeah that must be sooo hard jeon it’s whatever tho bc I had one of u too jeon my dream girl

This is not what you expected when he said he’d make you cry.

“Honey, you just have to talk to him,” Momo says the next morning, pressing a cucumber slice onto your eyes. You flinch at the initial iciness, but then relax when she brushes your hair out of your face. You’d gone to sleep a wreck, crying and sobbing as you thought desperately on how to win Jeongguk back, but everything he had said was true.

You’d done nothing but reject him since the beginning, had only just begun treating him as a friend, yet you instantly placed the blame on him at the first signs of trouble. God, he was right. You’d been selfish this entire time, and now he wasn’t responding to your messages anymore.

Dahyun nods from her cocoon at the foot of your bed. “I’m sure it’ll be easier in person, text convos are always weird,” she tries to comfort you. “But keep those slices on, those bags under your eyes are no joke.”

Momo smacks her calf. “Be nice! She’s going through a crisis.”

Right as you’re about to pay for your meal and sprint back to hide in your dorm, you spot a coconut head of hair facing the windows in the far corner of the dining hall. Fuck. Faintly, you can hear Dahyun’s voice shouting for you to stop being a pussy and go talk to him. You pause by the exit, one leg in one leg out, before saying fuck it. If worse comes to worse, you transfer schools and live with heartbreak and three cats for the rest of your life.

“I-Is someone sitting here?” You say before you can chicken out, and mentally curse yourself for stuttering. Oh, the social horror.

Jeongguk visibly jumps at your voice, wide doe eyes staring at you as if he expected to never see you again. After all, it’s been a week since your little fight, three days since you last tried texting him. He shakes his head, turning his attention back to his plate, but not before tugging the hoodie of his sweater over his head in a classic self defensive tactic.

You slide into the seat, staring at the plate of food like you’ve never seen it in your life, never mind the fact you picked it out less than fifteen minutes ago. You accidentally scrape your fork against the bottom, and the both of you cringe.

Jeongguk clears his throat, hands clasped together between his thighs as he stares out the window. “Don’t you have work?” He asks, voice raspy.

You shake your head. “I took the week off,” you confess, hoping he doesn’t press for more, because then you’d have to tell him your reasoning was due to heartache.

“Oh. That’s nice,” he says, and then you fall into a pit of awkward silence.

You push the food around on your plate, hoping he’ll say something, anything to save the two of you. In the end, he stays silent, sleepily glancing out the windows.

When you look closer, though, Jeongguk doesn’t look much hot than you. He’s got the same bags as you under his eyes, and his hair looks messier than his usual messy style. The fact he’s wearing his blue crocs out in public only confirms your theory.

After a solid five minutes of silence, even your hungry stomach managing to stay quiet, you decide enough is enough.

You shift ever so slightly, until you’re somewhat facing him and clear your throat; Jeongguk barely spares you a glance. “The Preposterous Plight of the Purple Potty People,” you blurt. Jeongguk blinks, face slowly morphing into one of confusion. Your cheeks feel hot under his gaze, having missed his brown eyes in the past week. “It’s your favorite one,” you announce. “Of the Captain Underpants books.”

After a moment, Jeongguk snorts, turning his attention away from you. “You’re not gonna win me over with that,” he says curtly, and your heart tightens at his emotionless tone of voice.

But you’ve done your research, and you’re not letting it go to waste. “You like George more than Harold because you think he contributes more. You love the characterization of Mr. Krupp the most, but you hate his theme song. You think the cover art could use some work, but you enjoy the overall art style. You hated the movie adaptation because Kevin Hart was in it,” you list, recalling every bit of information you’ve ever heard Jeongguk share about the stupid novels.

There’s a small quirk in the corner of Jeongguk’s lips, but it’s not the one you’re aiming for, so you switch tactics. “You hate the smell of bananas because you don’t think it should have a smell. You can’t put your left sock on first, because it’s bad luck to you. Your mom still washes your sheets for you. You know the lyrics to the original Dragon Ball series in three languages. You like wearing rings because it makes you feel like a pimp. You hate when Hoseok calls you the baby, because, according to you, you bench press his weight times two.”

“And a half,” he softly corrects, gazing at his hands, cheeks slightly tinged with red. You bite your lip, tentatively reaching a hand out to place on his arm. He looks at you right away, doe eyes so vulnerable and scared, like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

“I said we barely knew each other, but that was a lie,” you chuckle humorlessly, suddenly feeling your eyes tear up just remembering the conversation. “I know so much about you because I love listening to you talk. I love hearing your voice, and watching you wrestle with your friends, and fight with Dahyun. But I never tell you,” you bite your lip, blinking your eyes to backtrack the tears.

“And you’re right, I made you do all the work and I’m sorry, but I’m just so scared, Jeongguk,” you admit, voice cracking on his name. Your press a hand over your mouth, trying to collect yourself. Suddenly, a soft hand gently pats your thigh, and you find yourself reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “You can have anyone, Jeongguk, and you obviously know this,” you sigh. “I’m scared that I won’t be enough for you.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Jeongguk says, voice soft in the way you’ve missed so much. His hand, shaky and unsure, reaches up to brush a tear from the corner of your eye. “Look at me,” he commands, and you do. “I think we’re both stupid, because I feel like I’ve never been enough for you,” he confesses with a chuckle you try to replicate through sniffles.

Suddenly, he’s close, forehead pressed to yours. “And maybe it’s true,” he says. “You won’t be enough for me, and I’ve never been enough for you.” Your heart aches at his words. “But that’s okay,” he assures, squeezing your thigh between his fingers. “We don't have to be right now, but we can try.”

You nod, clamping down a sob. “God, I hate how optimistic you are,” you laugh, and he smiles, cupping your face in his hands.

“And I hate watching you cry,” he says, fingers wiping your cheeks. Before you can say what you’re thinking, he’s snatching the words right out of you, “yes, I know I said what I said, and I felt like such a dick typing it, I made Jimin flick my forehead right after.”

You giggle, and he beams that dreamy smile at you again. “I’m gonna kiss you now,” he announces, and your heart thunders in your chest faster than the wings of a hummingbird.

And he does.

“I don’t know, I think Kevin Hart sounds great in this,” you mention, and you feel the hard scoff Jeongguk lets out from your position cradled on his chest. “It’s not the worst thing in the world,” you defend.

“You’re sick,” he says, then pauses the Captain Underpants movie to engage in your third debate of the evening. You’re barely fifteen minutes in. “You think that weirdo did George justice? How? In what world?”

“Babe, it’s just a voice actor,” you placate. “No one died because Mr. Hart voiced him.”

Jeongguk splutters. “Mr. Hart—you don’t know this man! And something did die! My hopes for a sequel!”

You shush him, pressing your index finger to his lips. “Enough complaints, Rotten Tomatoes. We won’t even finish at this rate.”

Jeongguk hits play, grumbling under his breath.

Just as you’d predicted, you don’t even make it to the halfway mark before Jeongguk’s got you on your back, plush lips working yours until they’re bruised, tongue halfway down your throat. “The mov—“ you mumble.

“Fuck Mr. Hart,” Jeongguk says, kissing down your jaw like he can’t allow himself to miss a single spot. When he reaches the collar of your shirt, he wastes no time tugging it off of you. You whine, instinctively covering your chest. “Don’t be shy,” he chuckles, “here, look-,” he tugs his sweatshirt over his head, and you’re met with the strong muscles of his abdomen and pecs, “-twins.”

You roll your eyes. “Just kiss me, Mr. Jeon,” you tease, wrapping your hands around him to bring him closer. He chokes, and mumbles something about saving that for another time.

Before you know it, he’s kissing between your thighs, soft lips producing the most erotic sounds with every smooch he gives. “Can I take these off?” he asks, one lone finger creeping beneath the hem of your panties, right where your hip is. You nod, biting your lower lip hard the moment he begins sliding them down. His hands are soft as they glide over your legs, and when he finally tugs them away from your ankles, he wastes no time nudging your legs open for him.

“Don’t just look at it,” you whine, jabbing his ribs with your foot. Jeongguk grins.

“Sorry I stare, you’re just so pretty,” he smiles, and you muffle an annoyed groan into your palms. “Gonna eat you out now,” he announces, finally, and you uncover your face to watch the way he lowers his mouth onto your throbbing pussy, pink tongue coming out to lick at your clit.

The first press of the wet muscle has your toes curling, back arched. You’d been craving this for the longest, and just as you’d expect, it’s better than any fantasy. “Right there,” you moan, reaching down to tangle a hand in Jeongguk’s wavy hair, the other fisting the pillow beneath your head.

Jeongguk absorbs all your tiny reactions, toying with your clit just how you like it. He rolls his tongue around it, making sure every part has been in his mouth at least once. When he suctions his lips around it and moans like this was getting him off, your body melts. “Fuck,” you cry out, your thighs quivering around his head. Part of you wants to slam them shut, hide from his tongue and all its devious ministrations. But the other part has never felt so good in your entire life.

When Jeongguk decides he’s pampered your swollen clit enough, he gives it one final kiss, wet and slippery. “Good?” He smiles up at you, lips slick with your juices. You nod, probably already looking fucked out. He smirks at your response, and your heart backflips in your chest, when he reaches up to knot your fingers together.

He kisses your knuckle and you whine. “How many fingers do you want?” He asks, and you blurt out the first number you can think of.

“Eight,” you choke, and immediately flush in embarrassment afterwards.

Jeongguk laughs, dropping his head to your thigh in a fit of giggles. He looks absolutely ethereal there, soft brown hair sprawled across your skin like an angel. “Smaller numbers, baby, please,” he chuckles. You shrug, so he decides for you. “How about I just use my tongue instead?” You think you might love him.

He settles back down, lips pressing against your mound one final time, before he’s diving in. You mewl right away, body becoming one with the mattress beneath you at the first brush of his tongue.

“Oh, Jeongguk,” you gasp, hands burying themselves in his scalp again. He hums in response, and the sound has every nerve in your body lighting up. His tongue prods against your folds, slowly licking his way deeper and deeper into your cunt.

The worst comes when he sighs against your pussy, literally sighs, like he’s so blessed to be there. “You’re s-so good at this,” you cry out, trembling fingers twisting his hair so tightly that you manage to pull him off just an inch. He pinches your thigh in warning, before stuffing his tongue into you again, absolutely plunging into the depths of your hole.

Just when you think he couldn’t possibly outdo this, he jolts up suddenly, nose brushing against your clit. His eyes go wide for the slightest second, as if he really hadn’t planned that, before flickering at you.

To your utter embarrassment, he takes one long whiff, eyes rolling to the back of his head in pleasure.

He pulls away from your dripping hole. “You smell so fucking good,” he informs you, spreading a fiery blush across your cheeks.

“Thanks?” You say, and he grins, shuffling onto his knees all of a sudden. You mope the loss of his tongue on your pussy, but forget about it the second he reaches for his desk and returns with a condom.

He tears the foil packet open with gentle hands, eyes weirdly zeroed in on that only. You nudge his hip, and when he meets your gaze, he instantly averts it. Like he’s suddenly shy.

Oh he was gonna be the death of you.

You tug his boxers down and get to revel in more of those bashful glances, but you soon forget about that when he grips his rock hard member in one hand, jacking it to its full potential. “Ready?” He says, one hand gripping your hip, the other his cock. You nod, and then shift up onto your elbows to watch him sink into you.

You can barely keep your eyes open, the second the tip of his cock brushes against you your eyes roll back into your head. You moan, letting yourself flop back against the mattress, chest heaving with each inch he sinks in. “Fuck, you’re big,” you cry, biting down on your fist.

Jeongguk chuckles. “Yeah?” He grunts, and then stills as he waits for you to catch your breath. He gives you exactly four seconds before he’s thrusting the remainder of the way in.

Your back arches off the bed, a high-pitched moan ripping itself out of your throat. “Jeon!”

“Relax, relax,” he croons, releasing your hip to lean over you, peppering your face in kisses. You’re heaving for air, so overwhelmed with emotions. “You’re doing so good for me, doll,” he comforts, kissing every inch of you until you regain your wits. “So wet and warm for me, you have no idea how bad I wanna just ram my cock into your tight, little pussy.”

You huff, heart still skipping by the time you grow familiar with the sheer size of his dick inside of you. When you’ve finally come back down to earth, eyes fluttering at Jeongguk, he gives you one affirmative nod before he begins really fucking you.

He starts carefully, like he’s afraid he’ll break you with one push. You’re thankful that he’s at least somewhat aware of his own bear strength, but you’d prefer if he picked up the pace. Before you can file a complaint, he’s hiking your thigh up onto the crease of his elbow, and ramming himself into you.

“Could already hear some smart ass comment coming,” he groans, snapping his hips into you with a newfound intensity. You moan, trying desperately to reciprocate some movements back.

“Wasn’t gonna say anything,” you gasp, fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders, scratching lone lines down his back. Jeongguk snorts, pushing in, and then grinding your pelvises together deliciously.

He rolls his eyes, then chooses that exact moment to capture your lips in his. You groan softly, body boneless beneath him at the gentle way he kisses you, like his entire life depends on this single kiss.

When he finally releases your lips, he’s huffing against your mouth, hips having not stopped a single time. You know he’s tired and so riled up; you’d felt the brush of his half-hard member from the moment you first laid down to watch the movie.

But Jeongguk was a gentleman, through and through. You’d felt the brush of his cock, and heard the thundering of his heart, but he hadn’t pushed you further a single time. He basked in your presence, waiting until you crept your hand beneath his shirt to finally pounce.

“I’m close,” you tell him, reaching down to toy with your clit. Jeongguk had treated it like the finest treasure earlier, but now your gentle caresses feel mediocre compared to the way he’d touched it. Jeongguk nods, the tips of his wavy hair sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck. You abandon your quest to finish yourself off and focus on brushing his hair away from his face. “You’re so good to me,” you moan, lightly picking the corner of his mouth. “Don’t deserve you.”

He rams his cock into you, the arm not holding up your thigh weakening, until he’s leaning on his forearm over you. “Don’t say that,” he chokes out, and you wonder if his orgasm is as close as yours.

A particular brush of his cock against your cervix has you seeing stars, thighs clenching around him. “Just a little bit—more,” you beg, body writhing beneath him, pushing yourself up to meet his thrusts.

“So perfect,” he praises, kissing along your jaw. “Come for me, baby.”

You nod, but not before cupping his face in your hands, and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. He makes a soft little sound of surprise, smile pressed against your mouth, and the heat in your abdomen finally explodes. You disassociate for all of one second, consumed in a wave of bliss never before heard of, his pistoning thrusts working you through it.

You nearly cry from how good it feels, throwing an arm around his neck to pull him closer. You’re babbling like an idiot, saying shit you won’t remember later. What you do recall is the chuckles Jeongguk had muffled against your neck, hips never faltering as he chased his own high.

He finds it a few beats later, the muscles of his back suddenly going rigid. He moans your name, somehow making it sound like it’s the best song in the world, before his hips begin stuttering in their mission. He eventually goes slack, slumped over you without completely crushing you beneath the weight of his muscles.

By the time you’ve fully recovered, he’s sliding out of you. Right as you go to speak, he stuffs two fingers into your sensitive cunt. “Jeon!” You wail, reaching down to push him away before you come again.

He snickers. “What? It’d be a waste to let it out,” he says, letting go when he’s decided he’s done his job, popping the digits into his mouth. You groan, trying to quell the excitement that builds in your chest from watching him suck your cum off his fingers.

“You’re the worst,” you sigh, snatching his t-shirt off the edge of the bed to tug over your bare form. Jeongguk tugs his underwear back on, retrieving yours from where he’d flung them across the room. When you’re settled into the blankets again, you’re not expecting the laptop to return as well. You raise a questioning eyebrow.

Jeongguk shrugs, nestling into your chest. “Hit play, this is when Professor Poopy Pants begins attacking the city.”

#kpopwonderlandtag #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jjk♡#jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #mine

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gaulemtypefemale-dm-l-016 · 4 years ago

Note

3d, 5d and 5n? :)

3d. Rank the endings (for one game of your choice or the true endings of the 3 games)

In terms of all games, I think I would rank 999 ending > VLR ending > ZTD ending.

However, each one of them gave me a different experience so I really enjoy them as a whole package. For example, when I finished VLR, I felt I needed more. The experience had been so intense that I wanted to play ZTD right away. On the other hand, ZTD's true ending made me feel very introspective, even if the writting felt lacking sometimes.

I ranked 999's ending higher because I feel like 999, in general, felt more concise and it had my favourite cast. I loved the epilogue and how the game could simply end there and not even have a sequel. It felt like a complete game by itself. Of course I was a bit desperate with the situation between Akane and Junpei, and how they ended up in separate ways, but it felt fitting.

As for VLR I really enjoyed the plot twist. I felt the true ending was a bit too long, like a never ending ride, but, despite the confusion, I enjoyed the general explanation of it. I also enjoyed the sad tone of the story, and I absolutely loved some of the reflections from the another time (even if not considered as canon).

However, the game asked for more.

And there's where ZTD enters. I had some problems getting used to the cinematics of the game and the characters, and, at the time I played, some things felt weird, like how suddenly it seemed so simple to just shift. As for the ending, I really like how it was put as a moral dilemma, a ZERO TIME DILEMMA, in fact, the situation of shifting (not sure if to think that the shifting until then had been made too easy, or it was purposedly used so that only later they had to face the fact that they doomed their other selves). The ending made me think a lot about how, despite them being alive at the end, despite this seemingly good turn of events, it still felt all like a gamble, as the begining of the game. In the end we didnt' even know the identity of the terrorist, and they still doomed their first ending iteration, for their last iteration (which has the trauma from playing the decision game).

Delta's character is generally a source of memes due to his quotes, but his words still left some marks. His whole plan was convoluted. It's almost like the second nonary game, but here the multiple timelines had to happen in order for this future to come true, and for him and Phi to exist.

I also love the ending theme and it plays very well, complementing this interminable dilemma mood the characters live through. I also love how, in the end, we can interpret Delta as a character portraying the player: "One of Delta's motivations for creating the Decision Game: he can't shift himself, but can read the minds of those who experienced other timelines, and was interested in learning about them. Given that Delta is technically the Player Character, this is probably a meta-narrative commentary on player curiosity" (taken from ZTD TV tropes).

So in the end this was all to say that, despite liking 999's ending better for how solid it seemed to me, the other games' endings also deserve a lot of credit for their worth.

(I didn't know the ranking was for the endings of all games or one in specific so I went with this, but I may try to rank for a specific game later).

5d. Do you consider Another Time to be canon? If so, do you have any theories on ?'s identity

I think at the time I finished ZTD I found that Another Time was not considered canon. Nevertheless I really liked its contents so I like to pick elements from it and incorporate in canon. One of my favourite part of it is Tenmyouji’s thoughts on this plan of jumping to the past and change it. The bikers’ story is one of my favourites there and I felt it was a message about how, despite losing Akane, he found Quark along his journey in this doomed timeline, and how, even if their plan works, this timeline still exists. There is also a possibility that the transporter was hinted with Alice and Clover’s conversation, but not sure if that was the alternative or not.

About ?’s identity, I think my favourite take is the player. Because the player is an irregular identity in the game. To get the Another Time, the player has to achieve certain goals, such as collecting the golden files. The player can play with timelines as much as they want since they can jump through the flowchart freely and they even command Sigma’s action through the game (which can explain the way sometimes he was surprised with his vote during the Nonary Game). And I believe it refers to the player coming from the true ending of ZTD, but this is merely speculation...

Since Delta could be meta commentary about the player, I also liked to think he could be involved in this, but since he can’t shift , it’s much improbable. However I like how there is a link with how the end of ZTD is Carlos pointing the gun at him, which represents a situation of danger that could trigger a shift.

Other than this, I think I haven’t thought much about it. I may have read some theories some time ago, but I don’t remember them now...

5n. Do you have any fanart/fanfic/fangame recommendations?

Fanart is probably what I consume the most. I really love @/keycrash’s works, @/kisschasey’s portraits of Snake, @/caelytrix, the way @/aestheticcannibal portrays Kyle and Dio, @/i0n4 and much more artists. I always try to reblog the amazing works I find from the fandom and sorry for not listing more, nor any work in specific.

Twitter is also a very good media to find a lot of good ZE fanarts. Not all of them are tagged, but generally searching the ZeroEscape tag allows you to find very cool works, along with other tweets and memes.

Now, on fanfiction I can’t really give much recommendations because I haven’t read many. I mainly read some from Zecret Santa event. I remember enjoying the one I got about Tenmyouji and Quark because I really love their wholesome relationship. Link here

There’s also one I once started to read but didn’t finish due to lack of time, but which was VLR’s story told from Phi’s POV and I found the idea extremely interesting although I still haven’t read it. It’s pretty long too. Link here

Now for an idea which concept I feel it’s funny and interesting: I once found one that was a Nonary game in the IKEA. I actually haven’t read it but at the time I thought it was a really funny idea. Link here

I’ve only read the first recommendation, but thought I should leave the other two, as they seem interesting and funny.

Sorry for the long post and the delay in replying. I also apologize for any mistake I made. I’m a bit tired but I really wanted to finish this post.

And thank you for the asks. I really enjoyed the question about Another Time and, although I’m pretty bad at ranking things, I like discussing and going through the games’ content again.

#zero escape asks #asks #3d #5d #5n #zero escape spoilers #long post

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moonlit-doodles · 4 years ago

Text

writing snippet

a few people expressed interest so here’s the introduction to paradosso dell’anima (soul paradox)

also known as “oops my wacky stand yeeted me into a time paradox and now i’m meeting my biological father who is alive question mark??”

the majority of it will be behind the cut! it’s somewhere around 2500 words

“Proceeding examination nine, trial one. The date is twenty-seven of September, 2003. Subject Giorno Giovanna. Birthdate sixteen of April, 1985. Subject is eighteen years old. One hundred eighty-five centimeters, seventy-five kilograms. All blood levels normal. No injuries nor abnormalities. Perfect health as always, Mr. Giovanna.”

Giorno remained where he was, seated calmly in the center of the pristine room. He flipped through an album of photos, fingertips barely brushing each page.

“Thank you. Go on; I have other appointments today. Let’s make this quick.”

“Subject is a Stand user with the life-giving ability known as Gold Experience. Mr. Giovanna is still the only known Stand user with mastery over a Requiem ability. Gold Experience Requiem, otherwise called simply by Requiem or G.E.R., possesses capabilities still not yet fully surmised. These trials are, as always, conducted to learn more about the Stand arrow and Requiem abilities. Dr. Kujo is present once more as the Speedwagon Foundation’s primary observer. Examination nine, trial one, proceeding now. Mr. Giovanna, if you will please pierce your Stand with the arrow; Dr. Kujo, if you will kindly explain what is happening for the records.”

“Gold Experience.”

As his Stand shimmered into view, Giorno set the unshut album aside and rose to his feet. At his other side, the arrowhead with its gnawed shaft rested on a fold of silken cloth. He took it from its place and twirled it once in his fingers; it was habit at this point.

“Giorno has called Gold Experience to his side and picked up the Stand arrow,” Kujo narrated.

This was how it went every time, of course. It had become a sort of routine. Every once in a while, the Speedwagon Foundation would call and ask that Giorno come in and do some experimenting with his Stand. Something he’d never really pursued or spent time on before—now a semi-regular part of his collaborations with the Foundation. It wasn’t usually due to much drive on his part, of course. They asked questions and he asked his Stand if those questions could be answered.

There had been a trial period. After taking over Passione, he’d successfully settled himself at the top of the Foundation’s watch list. His heritage made it difficult for them to trust him. Now, they trusted him just fine so long as he didn’t carry an arrow on hand. So long as Jotaro Kujo was nearby.

As always, there was a sharp jolt of pain as he struck Gold Experience with the arrow—but it was always over quickly, and he adapted sooner each time.

“Gold Experience’s armor is cracking and bursting, the same way as always. Requiem is stirring; now showing its face.”

Giorno sensed the same greeting as it emerged—it was growing more familiar, a Stand that felt more and more like his own as he further grew and learned to understand its abilities. He still couldn’t bring himself to address GER as a ‘he,’ however, not the same way he addressed Spice Girl with feminine pronouns. Trish, too, had taken some time before referring to her Stand the same way.

GER didn’t speak very often; only when Giorno asked questions or when it felt words were necessary, or when Giorno’s intent was for the Stand to speak their shared thoughts. Upon report of such an observation, the Foundation had determined it to be an indication of absolute control, trust, and confidence. That much, too, explained why Trish’s Spice Girl was quieter now than before, and why Mista’s Sex Pistols fought amongst one another less and less.

There was no need to speak with your Stand if you trusted it wholeheartedly.

“Gold Experience Requiem is prepared to respond to all forms of testing,” Giorno reported at last, his tone smooth. His skin tingled, but under the brilliant lighting he couldn’t tell whether it glowed as it had the first time. “Let’s remember not to repeat any unchanged trials. We have made it clear that my Stand shares my distaste for repetition.”

“We will be proceeding on to the next phase of our examinations,” came the response. “Such a mistake will not be made again.”

The repeated test had been a learning experience for them all. GER had reacted to Giorno’s brief irritation and punished the nearest worker with an attack. He had died twice before Giorno understood enough to hurriedly cut the cycle and repair the damage. He had been careful to monitor his own temperament on each trial since.

“Zero,” Kujo said. “Today we’re experimenting more closely with the ‘zero’ that we’ve witnessed before. While we have tested all of Requiem’s base capabilities including range and speed, we have yet to run trials that will allow us to better understand how the cycle of life and death play a role in its powers. Giorno, I’d like you to create any mammal from the pen on your right and allow us to monitor its vitals.”

“Understood, Kujo-san.”

Giorno settled himself back into the seat as GER picked up the pen; the examination went on for longer than he thought necessary, and he found that his eyes kept turning up and away from the photo album, towards the clock. He’d be late at this rate. Late to ditch his bodyguards. Late to meet with Trish and Mista and Fugo. Today was important, and yet here he was looking through a bunch of the Foundation’s photos left sitting around while his Stand performed magic tricks.

“Gold Experience Requiem will act under my will but I have yet to understand how or why it loops,” Giorno said frankly. “If this will help you come up with an answer, then so be it. However. Let’s please wrap this up shortly. I do have an organization to be running.”

“You’re not working today,” Kujo muttered abrasively. “Just visiting a grave, aren’t you? Your team won’t mind if you’re a few minutes behind schedule and if I’m going to fly out to Italy then I’d like for it to be worth my time. Your dead friend can wait.” When he was met with silence, he jerked his chin to the door. “I didn’t see you rushing for the door when we received news of your stepfather’s death.”

Giorno’s thumb caught and dragged on the edge of a page, skin slicing open in the same moment that he looked up and met Kujo’s gaze, his eyes burning. The small hare on the desk heaved one final breath before being broken from the cycle and reverting back into a pen. GER tilted back into place, a hand braced on the back of the chair as it settled behind its master.

“You’re right,” Giorno said. “This man meant more to me than any father ever has. I don’t know how you gathered word of where I will be going and to whom, but, Kujo-san, I’d like you to know that it will not be tolerated. You tread a thin line. I’ve offered plenty to the Speedwagon Foundation and asked nothing in return. I am allowing you and this Foundation to study my Stand abilities. Who is it that has made the greatest commitment here? Will you relinquish to me all of the intricate details of Star Platinum’s abilities?”

Silence.

“I didn’t think so.” Giorno rose to his feet. GER healed the papercut with a touch. “I’ve willingly given the Foundation information about myself, about Requiem, and about the defeated Stand with the ability to skip time—as well as the Requiem ability of Jean Pierre Polnareff before his death. What am I receiving? You all think that my ties to Dio make me the same, don’t you? I don’t receive technological or medical benefits, nor do I receive the intel that you collect from other Stand users in my own territory. All I get is a tentative promise that you won’t needlessly strike me down. A promise that could be broken the moment I step within five kilometers of one of these stone masks you keep having me send my people after. Why not gather your own team of Stand users?”

Giorno lifted the album and flipped back to an old, colorless photo. “Perhaps you forget,” he said with a hum, “that I, too, am a Joestar.” He lifted his free hand to touch his fingertips lightly to the crook of his neck and shoulder. “Or does this birthmark mean nothing? Does my status as Dio’s bastard son mean that I don’t count?”

“You aren’t a part of the family,” came Kujo’s answer, his voice cold. “The only reason you have that birthmark is because your father, Dio, stole the body of a man greater than himself. Your very existence is contingent on Dio’s envy and malice. That aside, if even your mother didn’t want you then how am I to trust you?”

“My mother was a negligent whore. Consider yourself lucky to have been raised by two loving parents.”

“Don’t you dare bring my parents into this.”

“Aren’t they relevant? We’re speaking of mine, why not regard yours? Had I been your brother, would we be arguing now the same way we always do?”

“No. I’d have killed you.”

“You’re no better than my stepfather, then.” Giorno tapped his fingernail on the old photo, staring at it contemplatively. “I think your opinion would be different if I was born to your ancestor. I think your ancestor’s opinion would be different, too. How is your family, by the way? Did you abandon them across the sea again?”

“At least I have a family.”

The room fell into a deathly silence.

Broken only by the loud snap as Giorno shut the photo album, eyes glimmering with anger.

He inhaled slowly as he set the book aside. “Kujo-san, you do not want to make me into your enemy. Whether you like it or not, we are related by blood. I may not be what you consider family but Jonathan Joestar is my biological father. I have no fangs. No neck scar. I don’t have a single mole dotting my left ear, in fact. Not one. I was born into this body and this life. I did not choose my parents, nor did they choose me. I am not supposed to exist, but I am here, and that is an indisputable truth.”

“You, Jotaro Kujo.”

GER’s voice. The same as Giorno’s, save for his even, robotic tone.

“At least you have a family.”

“Enough,” Giorno said. He lifted the silk cloth to rest in his palm and extended the other towards GER. “We’re done for today. Let’s return the arrow to Polnareff. I will see you again soon.”

GER’s eyes met his, calculating. “Yes,” it said. “We will meet again soon.”

He saw that it had picked up the album, cradling it gently in both hands. And then—he felt, suddenly, that the distance between them did not close. That it only grew. That he was no longer standing in the room he’d been in before, wasn’t even standing on solid ground.

There was a rush of colors. For a moment Giorno thought he saw Bucciarati drifting past him. Bucciarati and Narancia and Abbacchio. All of them. By the time his arm outstretched—his fingers closed around empty air.

Panic caught his breath and stole it away. What was happening? Where was Gold Experience? Was this its doing? Had he lost control?

Had he been attacked by his own Stand?

He was falling through a rainbow headfirst, the hairtie ripping away from his braid, pins wrenched back by the force of his fall. Even a brooch pulled away from his jacket. His hair came undone, whipping about his face. Locks of gold that blotted out the vivid reds and blues and violets as they passed him by.

“Where are you taking me?” he breathed, his voice quivering with fear. “Where are you—shi—!”

He struck the ground, cracking the back of his head against hard pavement. All the breath left his body. Rain pelted his face but in a haze of pain and shock and still-ongoing panic he hardly felt it. Why was the ground vibrating? Goddamnit, his head hurt. Where was his Stand? Where was the arrow?

Giorno groaned the moment he managed to breathe, then began to cough, rolling onto his side.

“Shit,” he hissed, pressing his fingertips to the back of his head, unsurprised when they came back bloodied. His hair fell over his face as he rolled again, bracing himself on an elbow to try to get up. Where was he? He had to figure that much out first. “Gotta get up,” he told himself, biting back another coughing fit. “Just gotta—get up, Giorno…”

The moment he started to push himself up off the ground, a wave of nausea rolled up his spine, sent goosebumps fluttering along his arms and bile rising in the back of his throat. He fell, braced on his forearms, mouth tucked against his wrist. His vision blurred and darkened. Dangerous. Dangerous. Where was he?

“Blimey! Is that someone there on the walk? Whoa, whoa!”

The vibrations must have been—hooves? A couple of horses? The rain striking the back of his head was painful now that he knew it was there. Approaching footfalls. Shorter than Mista. Shorter than Trish, even. And was that English he’d heard? With an accent of some sort?

Was he in danger?

“Y’alright, kid? Oi, can you hear me?”

Giorno half-turned, stared over his shoulder at the blurred figure of someone he thought he should recognize. Long and curly hair. A diamond-patterned top hat and a coat thrown to shield him from the wind and rain. The man stopped—hesitated, just for a moment. What he was thinking in that moment, Giorno would never be able to tell. But it sure as hell seemed like they were both sizing one another up. Like the man recognized the panic in his eyes for what it was and knew better than to approach a wild animal with an injury on the side of a road.

Then the moment was over. Whatever he’d seen, this stranger had decided that Giorno wasn’t a threat.

“What’s your name, kid?” He convulsed as a hand met his shoulder, his vision wavering again as he was tugged into an upright position. “Aw, shit. Alright, lemme—here, think you could help me get you up? You’re mighty tall, y’know, for such a tiny bloke. Oh—”

Giorno fell forward into the stranger’s arm, his vision going black.

“—…guess not.”

The man sighed, pulling his coat from his shoulders and throwing it over Giorno’s body before heaving the boy up into his arms. “Bloody hell, I’ll be late to JoJo and the others at this rate won’t I? Well, couldn’t just leave ‘im aside to get picked clean by birds ‘n’ all them blasted thugs. They’d never forgive me.” He climbed up into the wagon and set the kid down. “Least the missus’ll be able to help the poor thing.”

He tipped up the brim of his hat to stare out at the moon, half-covered by clouds, then glanced back at the trembling boy in his backseat and heaved a sigh.

“How do you tell you’re gettin’ older?” he asked himself aloud, settling back into the driver’s seat and taking the reins in hand. “Imagining deadmen in the alleyways? C’mon, now, giddyup. Let’s go. Might as well bring another surprise home to those Joestars. They’ll be delighted.”

#paradosso dell'anima #jjba #vento aureo #giorno giovanna #not art

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the-darklings · 5 years ago

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Can we have something nice? Maybe something happy please? Something that doesn't make me want to scream due to angst? P̶o̶s̶s̶i̶b̶l̶y̶ ̶s̶o̶m̶e̶ ̶H̶e̶c̶t̶o̶r̶/̶V̶ ̶l̶o̶v̶e̶ ̶m̶a̶k̶i̶n̶g̶?̶ Something that has an actual happy ending?

you asked for more elites and here i am!

wc: 2.2k+

“I bet twenty you can’t do it.”

“Twenty what? Thousand? Be specific, idiot.”

“Dario, Julian is bullying me!”

A sigh; long and worn, a sound of a man who has had to deal with this for years. “He’s allowed to bully you. You know you have to be specific about bets, Step.”

“V,” Step whines, turning to look at you as you walk behind him. “Julian and Dario are bullying me. Help me, carina.”

“I’m about to bully you with my shoe up your ass, chickenshit,” Hector warns from beside you. In the shadows of the night, his features appear even harsher and he blows out a puff of smoke, glaring. “Stop your yapping.”

Step—in all his unwise, slightly tipsy glory—promptly flips Hector off and the Devil of Camorra growls under his breath, ripping the cigarette from his lips. Those icy eyes appear silver grey in the moonlight and you watch the shadows dance across those wide, sharp features.

“I’m going to break your goddamn arm,” the man warns and you know it’s not an empty threat. “Try that shit with me one more time, I dare you.”

“V won’t let you hurt me because I’m her favourite,” Step shoots back smugly and sticks his tongue out. “She danced with me all night so, uh, stronzo, maybe next time.”

Dancing all night is a bit of an exaggeration. When the Four—or at the time the three—had invited you out for a night of food and drinks, you had agreed right away. It’s been a few, long months of pulling job after job, mission after mission. Camorra doesn’t rest. There is always some hill to climb or people to kill. You don’t stay at the top by being comfortable with what you have.

Giovanni wields you all like an expert tactician. Aware of every strength and every weakness and delegating appropriately. You are the core that holds his empire together.

The five of you together have reshaped Camorra into something downright terrifying.

Looking at you all right now—casual clothes, too wide grins and snarky banter—it would be hard to assume so.

Except maybe Hector. He makes people uneasy by simply breathing.

It’s been an amazing night of hearty Italian food and several, eventful bar hops where you danced and laughed and danced some more. Finally relaxed and happy. You’re well known in Rome. Whispers follow you wherever you go, and good service is expected whenever Camorra’s finest and deadliest are present at your establishment.

Hector joined you late, having just come back from his latest mission. His first solo mission in a while, in fact, but you haven’t asked him for information on it. When it comes to his service to Giovanni, there are no questions to be asked.

Still it had been surreal seeing him cut through the crowded bar and heading for your booth after almost two weeks of not seeing him. For once, he was not wearing his Camorra suit. Not the burgundy nor his preferred black.

Just loose, fluffy strands of hair, a white t-shirt and a familiar leather jacket with dark jeans. Effortlessly striking; a dangerous, wild thing claiming every inch of space as his own. More than one head had turned at the sight of him, but as always, Hector didn’t pay them any attention.

He chooses who he wants, not the other way around.

The man in question looks like he’s about to reach out and throttle Step till he truly is dead so you take this opportunity to insert yourself between them, walking backwards so you’re facing the Devil.

“Twenty K was it?” you wonder with a slight quirk of your eyebrows as you link your arms behind you. “You’re all on.”

Silver, devious eyes zero in on you at those words. Warm summer breeze ruffles your clothes, his cigarette smoke hiding his features for a second but his full mouth quirks; a minute, taunting thing. “You sure you can handle that, sweetheart? You don’t take losing so well.”

“Careful, Hector,” Julian remarks knowingly, amused. “This one bites back and delights in laying you on your ass.”

“Yeah,” Dario adds from behind you. “We would hate to see that.”

You bite back a smirk at the way Hector seems to squeeze the cigarette harder between his fingers and bring it to his lips, his eyes narrowing. “Fuck off, Julian,” he shoots back dryly, no heat there, and you watch the way the amber light from his cigarette illuminates his rings. Only four from the eight fit your own— “You’re as bad as the skinny little shit over there. Fine, though. Next one you see. 40k. Let’s see if you have the balls to follow through, compagno.”

Never one to back down. You turn, careful not to let your feet tangle and watch Julian’s lips part. He splutters slightly and Dario chuckles. It’s a deep, rumbling sound that fills the otherwise empty street.

“Walked right into that one, Jules,” Step sniggers with a waggle of his fingers and you can’t help but to silently agree. What good has ever come from provoking Hector of all the people? You should know. “Sì? No? Is it ooooon? Come on, Julie, I’m dying from suspense—”

“Fine!” Julian snaps, irritated, his dark moustache twitching and he rubs his forehead with a huff of air. “Dio aiutami. You’re so annoying.”

Step beams, bobbing his head and pushes his sunglasses up his nose. You, to this day, have no idea how he manages to see with them on. “It’s part of my charm.”

Hector snorts loudly and your lips curve. In the darkness of the night and in between the melody of bickering filling the air your eyes find his again.

He throws the bud of his cigarette in the bin as you all walk by and you almost comment how, for once, he’s actually acting like a well adjusted citizen.

“You’re up, Julie,” he drawls suddenly and his eyes linger on you for a beat, a different heat there, before they move over your shoulder. “Better make it count.”

“Wait, what?”

Hector rolls eyes and points up with his index finger.

Your head slants and you know that your other three companions are doing the same.

Above you, on the third floor balcony, stands a lone female figure, smoking in nothing but her lingerie and a loose robe.

Every bit a self-assured, powerful woman confident in her body, in herself.

Step coughs weakly. Julian is beyond flustered and you don’t need daylight to know that, you can hear the small choked noises he’s making from where you stand.

Hector, the clever bastard, just looks smug.

His eyebrows cock as he waits expectantly before wandering closer. “Well? Or would you like to give me the cash now, huh?”

A bet to ask out the first person you see.

Julian’s nose twitches and he sighs. “You won, Hector. Happy?”

“What really?” you ask, surprised. “Not even going to try?”

Julian shakes his head, his expression grave, and few loose strands of his dark hair flutter in the breeze. “I’m not stupid. Knowing him, he probably knows the woman and knows that she will yell and throw something at my face if I try. No thanks.”

Hector doesn’t disagree and you blink at him.

“Hey, assholes,” a voice from above calls in accented English. “You may want to keep it down before someone calls the police on you. It’s 3am.”

Step steps forward, extending his arms as if in a welcome. “Bella signora,” he calls out happily, slipping into a charming Italian drawl. “Would you be so kind as to accompany me for breakfast in exactly two hours and ten minutes?”

Breakfast at sunrise? Oh, Step.

The shadowy shape of the woman peers down at your group and scoffs. “I don’t understand the word you just said,” she retorts, still in English, and you see her throw the cigarette down in your direction. “I’m Swedish. But next time lose the goofy glasses before trying to come onto someone.”

The balcony door slams shut behind her.

Silence.

You all burst into laughter simultaneously and even Hector smirks, his amusement apparent. Dario pats Step on the back sympathetically when the younger man’s arms plop to his sides. “Maybe next time, amico, hm?”

“Yeah.”

He’s practically pouting.

Lowering his head, his tattooed neck disappears from sight and you step closer to him, patting his arm in comfort, too.

“Next time, S.”

“At least you love me, bella, yes?” Step says with a crooked grin.

A large, heavy hand lands on top of your head, then, roughly ruffling your hair. “Yeah, she simply adores you, idiot.”

You punch his gut and it’s like hitting a wall. Hard, solid muscle meets your fist, forged by years of relentless training and brutality.

“She does!”

Dario sighs.

“Whatever.”

“Hey! Don’t ‘whatever’ me, square face.”

Hector promptly ignores the Camorra Chameleon and turns to you, staring down at you unblinking. “We need to get your ass back home or you will be useless in the ring tomorrow.”

“I could lay you flat on your back without sleep and with my hands tied.”

His eyes spark at the challenge. “That can be arranged, sweetheart,” he warns but you read the double meaning behind his words even if the context might be lost on others.

Your mocking expression strains and you pull away from his steady grip. “I’m not flinching,” you tell him sweetly. “But you have a point. It’s late.”

You don’t miss the fleeting look Dario shoots you both.

Julian stretches his arms upwards before wrapping his arm around Step’s shoulder, his Camorra rings gleaming in the streetlamp. “Come on, Romeo. Time to go. Boss will have your head if you’re late again. You can crash at mine, it’s closer.”

Step lays his cheek against Julian’s shoulder. “Oh, what would I do without you, JoJo?”

“Perish.”

You laugh. “He’s not wrong.”

Hector’s arm brushes against yours and your head slants in his direction, still grinning, and the man arches his eyebrow. Faint amusement lines his face but he doesn’t comment.

“Enough you two,” Dario interjects and pats both their shoulders, towering over them. “I’m getting jealous.”

“Oh, Dario,” Step says sweetly, dragging out the man’s name. “You can join us any—”

The Strength of Camorra lives up to his name by effortlessly tugging the other members of the guard with him as he turns to go.

“See you two in the morning.”

Julian follows Dario willingly as always but Step—in usual Step fashion—makes a fuss the entire way down the street,

You watch them go with a tiny, fond smile twitching your lips.

Idiot men.

Your idiot men. Friends. Family.

You wish Ares and Roberto had been able to come too but Santino had business to deal with in Seoul.

Cassian was busy with Gianna.

Busy.

“Coming, blue eyes?” you call out with that faint smile as you turn to go.

You take a step.

Before he grabs your wrist and drags you to him, his hungry mouth slanting against yours. You let out a small appreciative gasp when he presses you to him, his fingers sinking in your hip, trailing a deliberate path across your waist. His other hand tangles in your hair and your hands wrap around his neck.

“Fucking finally,” he mutters and kisses you again. Hard. Tobacco and bourbon on his tongue. It’s a demanding and hot kiss that makes your heart stutter and he practically lifts you in his arms. His leather jacket presses into your skin and you moan softly into his domineering kiss, matching every slant and exhale and nibble of his teeth. “Been waiting all fucking night to kiss you.”

He tugs on your hair and presses a series of ravenous, rapid kisses down the length of your neck, his teeth scraping against your pulse.

“I think Dario knows,” you gasp breathlessly, and suppress a hiss at the way his hand drags over the curved of your ass, squeezing deliberately. “Do you—”

He bites your earlobe, nibbling on it as the heat of his breath tickles your skin. “Dario knows. He’s always known,” Hector grumbles and kisses your jaw before his hand drags up again, slipping under your top and up your naked back. You shiver at the coolness of his rings against your flesh and lean into him further, breathing heavily. “He’s smarter than people give him credit for. Morons.”

“Do you think—”

He bites your neck; playful, deliberate. “Any other men you wanna discuss with me right now, sweetheart?”

Your fingers find the soft strands of his hair, unstyled for once. Your other tangles in the cotton of his t-shirt. “Just your favourite,” you breathe against his mouth and his jaw flutters, his eyes flashing. “You. Looking handsome tonight, asshole.”

His teeth flash. “You’re the one to talk,” he grouses, his eyes narrowing and he grips the skin of your waist—his fingers tracing, claiming—and you lean into his touch. He kisses you again. Bites your lip, tugs on it, and you do the same, and he only grows hungrier for it. “Looking like that, smiling like that. You tested my patience, I’ll admit. The only thing I could think about all night long was you between my legs. How pretty you look when you moan my name.”

“Such a romantic.”

His arms slide down your body and he lifts you in the air easily, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your arms wrap around his broad shoulders and he looks deadly and half-starved in this muted, hazy light. Half-shadow, half-devil he always gets compared to.

“I’ll show you romance.”

He carries you in his arms the entire way to your apartment, his lips attached to your neck.

You barely make it through the door before he tears at your clothes.

You’re late for training the next day.

#oc x reader #original writing #oc writing #john wick oc #c: hector #c: step #c: dario #c: julian #me trying not to clown.......fails.#this was a good dynamic study tbh so do with this what you will lol #a few of you have been asking for more elites tho soooo #sorry for mistakes it's almost 4am lol #s: my lady

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lifeofroos · 4 years ago

Text

Part 32! And there is a baby! Small reminder that you can still vote for the Solangelo rewards 2021 on @solange-lol! My fic is nominated too!

In short: Nico gets Therapy from Dionysus. In this chapter, a mutual friend has gotten a baby and they have been invited over to see the child. However, Nico is a little nervous... The rest can be found on AO3 and FanFiction.net and in Tumblr tags like Nico di Angelo, Fanfiction, Pjo etc. This Might Be Crazy: Chapter 32: British tea

Dionysus teleported us to a pretty nice apartment block in the middle of New York. ‘What number?’ I asked.

‘32.’

‘Alright.’ I walked to the door and hovered my fingers over the bells, but when I found it, I did not ring it.

‘Is something wrong?’

‘I am a little anxious.’

‘A little?’

‘Okay, quite. Quite anxious.’

‘Hm. Does that get better if you don’t ring the doorbell, even though we have an appointment?’

He had a point. I pressed the doorbell, which felt like quite the achievement.

‘Who’s there?’ A male voice asked through the intercom. I took a deep breath.

‘Uh…Nico. Nico di Angelo.’ I swallowed. ‘Um, Mary invited us…’

‘Of course! Come on in!’ The door opened with a soft click. I shot a look at Dionysus, before we walked into the building.

‘How come that you are so nervous all of a sudden? Usually, you talk to people quite easily. I am assuming you did not talk to the troglodytes like this when you first met them.’

‘I don’t know. Something about the fact that Mary has a baby makes me nervous. I am afraid I’ll hurt them.’

‘It’ll be okay. Try to calm down. His name is Ernest, by the way.’

‘Because you are such an authority on names.’

‘Now, we are not getting your mouth too big.’

I tried to laugh, but it was higher pitched than usual. ‘Of course not.’

The door was already open. A man in his late twenties was standing in the doorway. He looked like he was perpetually on a pink cloud.

He stuck out his hand. We both shook it. ‘You must be Nico,’ he told me. ‘And are you Dio? I don’t hear that name often.’

Dionysus shrugged. I assumed Mary had not told George his full name. ‘Oh well.’

‘Come in,’ George said, with stars in his eyes, ‘Ernest is just awake!’ He led us into the apartment, which looked cozy. They had a fluffy couch in the living room, and Mary was sitting on that couch, and she was holding the tiniest human I had ever seen in my life.

I mouth fell open a little. Mary smiled. ‘Look, Nico, this is Ernest.’

‘He’s… he’s so…’ I took a step backwards. My anxiety went throught the roof.

George looked at us with a huge smile, seemingly unaware of how I was feeling. ‘He is beautiful, isn’t he!’ He sighed. ‘Do you want anything to drink?’ Dionysus looked at Mary and at me. ‘I think we could all use a cup of tea. I’ll help’

‘That’s not…’

‘No, it’s okay.’ Dionysus looked over at George, who went quiet, turned around and walked to the kitchen. Mary raised her eyebrows and shot Dionysus a look. ‘Don’t give him a heart attack.’

‘Of course not.’ Dionysus walked after George, so that I was left alone with Mary and Ernest.

She turned back to me. ‘Come, you can sit down.’ I stayed where I was.

‘He… he is so small.’

‘Yes. It’s okay, Nico.’ My heart rate increased. I didn’t want to hurt the baby, but I did not want to upset Mary either.

Slowly, I walked over to the couch and sat down. Mary pushed the blue, fluffy blanket aside a little. ‘Look.’

I looked at the small bundle in her arms. The baby was wearing a jumper and a small hat. He looked adorable, but all I could think to say was: ‘Why… why is the hat pink? Not that it matters, but...’

‘We didn’t really think about it when we bought it,’ she said, with a small shrug. ‘After he was born, we did think that it was a little unconventional. But as you said, it does not reallt matter. It is just a hat!’ I slowly nodded.

‘I mean, it fits, pink is Aphrodites’ holy colour.’

She chuckled. ‘Yes, it is.’

Ernest’ little eyes were open. They turned to me for a second. ‘He sees, but he doesn’t really see me, right?’

‘No, he is too small for that.’

‘Ah.’ Then I need to be even more careful with him.

Dionysus and George came back with a platter of tea and biscuits. George was non-stop talking about the new baby. To me, it seemed like a miracle that Dionysus managed to look interested in what he was saying.

He put the platter onto the table. George kept talking while making all of us a cup of tea, without thinking to ask whether we wanted sugar or milk. We just got it. I didn’t mind, though, I kind of liked tea with milk.

When he was done with his story and with his tea, George sat down next on the other side of Mary. Dionysus sat down in an armchair slightly further away.

For a moment, we all just looked at the baby. ‘He’s beautiful, right?’ George asked. An even bigger smile grew on Mary’s face, while she looked at her boyfriend for a second.

‘They always are,’ Dionysus commented. I only nodded, still a little fearful.

Mary looked up at me again. ‘Do you want to hold him?’

‘What?’ I swiftly shook my head.

‘It’s okay, Nico. I am here, and Dio is too...’

I looked at my hands. I mean, I did want to hold the baby, but…

Ernest gave a little cry. George jumped up. ‘I’ll go see what’s wrong,’ he said, sounding slightly panicked. He carefully took Ernest from his mother, before walking to the next room. Mary gave Dionysus an angry look. He was playing innocent.

She sighed. ‘Nico, it really is okay,’ she reassured me.

‘What if I hurt him? I don’t want to hurt him. He’s so small.’

Dionysus scraped his throat. ‘Nico, why do you think you’ll hurt Ernest?’

‘Sometimes I feel like I’ll lose control.’

‘Have you ever lost control the past few months?’

‘No. Not since the monster attack on Denny’s.’

‘So why would you lose control now?’

I shrugged. ‘Logically, I know that the chance is basically zero. Yet, that does not make the fear go away.’ Dionysus was quiet for a moment. Mary laid a hand on my shoulder.

‘Do you want to hold him? As in, just want it, if you don’t think about your fears for a second?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you can just come back when you feel better about it. That’s okay, I know you, after all.’

I looked at the couch. ‘I really like the baby, it is not that.’

Mary smiled, as if it truly did not matter. ‘Do you want to see him again, though? Otherwise, you can just leave now, before George comes back.’

I shook my head. ‘I want to see him again.’ I looked at Dionysus, who gave me a single nod.

A few minutes later, George came back with Ernest. ‘He has been cleaned up.’ He gave the baby back to Mary. I looked at Ernest. For a moment, I could imagine that he was looking back.

We sat and talked for a few minutes, but I did not really listen. After a while, I took a deep breath. ‘Eh… can I still hold him?’

Mary gave me a surprised look. ‘Of course.’ Slowly, she handed me Ernest, until I was holding him on my own. He looked sleepy, with his little blanket and his little hat. He was warm, tiny and his small eyes were looking, or trying to look. I cradled him slightly closer and smiled.

‘He’s so soft.’

George sighed. ‘Yes.’

‘I think that is mostly the blanket,’ Mary commented. George shook his head in the background. Mary turned around. I laughed.

The baby gave a small cry when my arms shook. With a start, I looked back at him. Oh, he was already calm. Was he already calm?

‘Shall I take him back?’ Mary asked.

‘Yes,’ I said, a little freaked out. With utmost care I gave Ernest back to his mother.

After that, I picked up my tea and took a sip. George decided it was time to begin another story, but now I was happy to listen to it.

After half an hour, Ernest had fallen asleep. Mary looked tired.

‘I think it might be time to leave,’ Dionysus commented. I nodded, and so did Mary. George got up and showed us out.

After he closed the door, Dionysus put his hand on the wall next to it. He whispered a few words in Ancient Greek. When he was done, he beckoned me down the stairway. ‘I had to bless them,’ he explained, ‘Mary should have a healthy, happy baby and Ernest should have a happy, healthy mother.’ I completely agreed.

‘Nico?’

‘Yes?’

‘What made you suddenly think that you could hold Ernest?’

I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But I did it.’

‘Are you glad you did it?’

‘Yes. I am very happy I did it. On one hand because I liked Ernest, but on the other hand because it feels like I am closer to defeating that fear. I really did not hurt him. So next time, I probably won’t either.’ I sighed. ‘Thanks for coming along.’

‘Hey, I wanted to see the kid too.’ He looked at me with a small smile.

‘Ah.’

He sighed deeply. ‘Don’t listen to me, Nico. I think you did very well.’

A/N: Hand-shaking,,,,, it feels like a century ago that that was considered polite,,,,

Btw why is there no celebratory food for when a baby is born in the USA? In the Netherlands, you get ‘beschuit met muisjes’ when you visit a new baby. It is a sailors biscuit, but with butter and little anise dots (the muisjes), usually blue for a boy and pink for a girl, although there has been a new trend of gender neutral ‘muisjes,’ which are red for example. When a royal baby is born, for a small period of time the stores will sell orange anise dots.

This is the end of the (Admittedly rather short) Parent arc! Of course there will be way more content with Hades and/or Persephone, but I think that falls under the new arc that will begin after a bonus chapter....

#Nico di Angelo #Dionysus #pjo #trials of apollo #percy jackson #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #writeblr #pjo fanfiction #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson and the olympians #Percy jackson and the olympians fanfiction #hurt/comfort #therapy #baby #writer #write

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virtualreylo · 5 years ago

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My review of TROS:

As some of you may know, I went to see TROS on the premier night, and I wanted to give myself a full week to think everything through to see what stil stood out to me. See-the-fuck-below:

I want to first say that TROS was honestly better than I thought it would be, however, IT WAS SO RUSHED.

I felt like we the audience had zero time to actually react to what was happening because this movie literally had two, maybe even three, movies crammed into a single one.

Rush Job / Leia:

We weren’t given the opportunity to actually feel as though Chewie had died, or really get to know Dio, or properly grieve Leia-Effing-Organa-Skywalker-Solo.

Like seriously, what the hell was up with that? This woman had given so much to the Star Wars universe, and the characters along for the ride couldn’t even have a minute to respond and process.

It was always just so “Onto the next thing!”, and I hated it.

Poe/Finn/Rose:

I did like that we were able to kind of get a glimpse of Poe’s background a little more, but when he was given the title of ‘General’, I WISHED they would have also given him just an extra five seconds to process and acknowledge this! That was a huge step for every one around him, and for Leia to do, and it was just glossed over.

With Finn, I hated how he interacted with Rose. Those few seconds reminded me of how we deal with an annoying little cousin. Those two characters literally spent an entire movie together, at least show they’re more than strangers.

I do like how it’s more obvious that he’s force sensitive, but I HATE that JJ made it seem as if he was trying to tell Rey that he had feelings for her or some shit. I mean, if you were paying close enough attention, Finn was telling everyone else around him about it, so it made sense that that was what he was also trying to tell Rey (John Boyega has also confirmed via Instagram that Finn was not trying to tell Rey he loved her). It just could’ve been handled differently, and I don’t think Finn’s story had to be based around Rey, of course, until he met Jannah...

Rose - My, my, my. It was such a shame to see her character pushed to the sidelines in such a harsh way. I understand she may not have needed to be such a big character in TROS, however TLJ made me feel like she was part of the gang.

If JJ wanted to exercise his creativity, he could have included her and formed it in a way where it wasn’t so in your face. Instead, after alllll the backlash and harassment Kelly had dealt with, her character was pretty much trashed, and at a time when female friendship was needed in the Star Wars films.

C3PO/Chewie:

I actually loved C3PO’s humor in this one - But part of me did feel a little betrayed about how easy it was for the gang to decide to just destroy his mind (Its rediculous when you think about it lmao). I am not saying it didn’t make sense, I just wish they would have taken only an extra 5 seconds to be like “Mmm... Are we sure?” - But no, it was always “On to the next thing!”

Chewie - Yall already know that I wanted a bigger reaction to the almost-death. Again, literally 5 seconds more could have made the difference.

In addition, it would have been amazing to see Chewie and Ben interact...

Lando:

Okay.

What the actual fuck?

I seriously felt as though I blinked and Lando just popped up with no acknowledgment.

AGAIN.

I was soooo frustrated, because Lando was a big character that I think a lot of people were looking forward to seeing, and the only one excited to be there, was Lando himself.

Everyone just kinda had the reaction of: “Oh, hey.” on screen. WTF!!!

Hux:

The spy, eh? Full on caps-lock-pissy-mode activated.

HOW FUCKING RANDOM AND THROWN IN WAS THAT?! WHAT ABOUT EVERYTHING IN TFA AND TLJ? WHERE WAS THE HELP THEN?? WHY DID HE ALL OF A SUDDEN CARE NOW?!

ALSO, SMALL FUCKING REMINDER, HE STILL WASN’T ON THE RESISTANCE’S SIDE!!!

HE HELPED THEM ONLY TO TAKE KYLO REN DOWN, HE SAID HE DIDN’T GIVE A DAMN WHO WON.

Sorry. The end.

Also, he looked hot af in this movie.

Rey:

Now, let’s get into the heavy.

I, again, hated how rushed this movie was, and that included how they dealt with Rey’s character and growth.

Only one year had passed, you’re telling me she learned all of these powers and moves by Leia? Let’s say that was the case, JUST SHOW US HOW. Even a 10 second clip of just their various training methods or sessions! Anything.

Don’t get me wrong: I know Rey is a Palpatine (Rolling my mf eyes) - so she would obviously be very powerful. But the last we saw of Rey, she was lost and struggling how to move on.

Her saber was broken, she had the Jedi textbooks, and she was lost.

What happened??

Along side this, I was extremely disappointed to find out that she was indeed a Palpatine. I had my theories when TFA came out, but I, along with so many others, loved the fact that she didn’t have to be part of any big name in order to be a strong, self sufficient lead, and I think Rian Johnson did a great job at letting us know and feel that during the mirror/cave scene in TLJ.

Rey’s overall attitude this movie really left a sour taste in my mouth. I get that she was hurt, and angry, and panicking... But, she acted like an ass quite honestly.

But, to me, it kind of played into the dark side of herself, though I wished that was explained a bit more for people that don’t really get into Star Wars as much as we do.

With that said: I wished Rey was still a nobody from Jakku, and that she kept a little bit of her curious/sweet side. And I wished her growth was shown a bit more - Not in just the powers she used against Kylo Ren.

Ben Solo / Kylo Ren:

Can we seriously just take a minute to thank Adam Driver? This isn’t me being up his ass. As an aspiring director, his acting was amazing in this movie, and I feel he really out did himself.

With that said: I, again, hate how everyone’s characters and growth were glossed over in TROS, as if TLJ never happened and it’s really so childish and disheartening. If Abrams wanted to literally skip TLJ, he should have manned up and taken on TLJ himself.

I feel like Kylo Ren was back in his TFA ways; Demanding, with a little charm now. I liked it, but I would have liked it a little more if he actually talked to Rey like a normal human being like he did in TLJ.

(But, Kylo Ren with an attiude? FuCk YeS pLeAsE.)

Ben Solo: Can we all just marry you now? That fucking switch was everything, his ‘Ow’ was everything, his lightsaber throw-age was everything, his interaction with Han was life, and kicking ass and forgetting names was the best fucking time.

I wished he had more lines in the end, literally, how does he barely have any lines as BEN SOLO!!!!

But jesus, the way he literally crawled out of the dark to save Rey was everything.

And that kiss? I could stare at it for hours.

Amazing acting with these characters, brav-fucking-o.

The end (+THAT “death”):

Ben Solo is not dead.

That is not denial.

I think that is the “hope” that JJ kept referring to. There are so many big points that show he isn’t, and I think down the line, we will get another movie with his comeback.

With the end, I hated how Rey didn’t seem to react to his death either, but I think it leads to something bigger: She feels him out there somewhere, in the in-between.

I do not like how she adopted the Skywalker name... I wished she stuck with the “Just Rey.” shit. I lived for that.It’s great, she has some sense of belonging, if that’s what you want to call it... But again, it was thrown together and it isn’t real.

The ending itself was left open: Yellow lightsaber, and walking around on Tattooine? I really doubt she stayed there.

Overall:

I hated how rushed it was, and how JJ tried to erase TLJ (Seriously, if you aim to do that shit to a movie, JUST DON’T TAKE THE JOB, YOU SCARED/POSSESSIVE POS!! Let’s say the movie was split up in two, with the same outcome, but at least TLJ still existed in his world - I would be 100% okay with that!

But, that’s not how it was handled, and we the fandom, were provided a “close” to a saga that we rode with for many, many years just to have it all thrown down the drain without a second thought.

I do believe a LOT of last minute decisions were made, especially with editing. But I sincerely hope that we get a glimpse into the shit that was left out, at least on the DVD extras, or an extended version of the movie (GOD, PLEASE).

When all is said and done:

- Ben Solo will come back.

- Rey’s story will continue.

- Hopefully we have a director that actually cares about the characters and story.

- I am looking forward to the novelization, the Kylo Ren comics, those DVD extras, and once the dust settles I really want to see what JJ and the cast have to say for this shit.

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hyruledrift · 5 years ago

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The Brilliance of Giorno Giovanna

Before I go ahead and write my review of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 5: Vento Aureo written and illustrated by Hirohiko Araki, I wanted to somehow put into writing why I think that it’s main protagonist, Giorno Giovanna, is truly a brilliant character. There is one more thing I’d like to prefix this character analysis with, and that is how I experienced Vento Aureo.

Vento Aureo was serialized in Weekly Shōnen Jump from November 20, 1995 to April 5, 1999. The anime first premiered in October of 2018 and ran through July 2019. So, I devoted the past couple weeks to both WATCH and read Vento Aureo. Reading the manga, and then watching the episodes that covered the volume(s) I previously read. So I really got to soak in the entire story. I also live tweeted my entire “Readwatch” but thats besides the point. I’m a bit late to the party in terms of covering the series but this is also my first time ever doing something like this, and I thought that there’d be no better place to start rather than breaking down one of my favourite characters across all mediums of fiction, Giorno Giovanna. Needless to say, this character analysis will divulge into spoilers of Vento Aureo.

Giorno Giovanna, born Haruno Shiobana, in Vento Aureo is age 15. He is half Japanese, Half Italian. Giorno as we know is the bastard son of DIO, the Joestar lineage’s sworn enemy across time. Giorno’s stand is Gold Experience, named after the Prince album The Gold Experience. Gold Experience is a close-range Stand, with a range of 2 meters from its user. Gold Experience has many different abilities. The first one being Life Giver. Life Giver gives Gold Experience the ability to endow anything its fists touch with life, which translates into a variety of different effects. It’s second ability is Life Shot. Gold Experience's ability can also be applied to living individuals, causing their thought processes to greatly accelerate. Life Shot basically makes Giorno’s opponent experience a psychedelic trip in the middle of combat. Gold Experience also has the ability to recreate Flesh and Organs. Inspired by Baby Face's ability to transform body parts into inert cubes, Giorno discovered that he could do the reverse and create singular body parts and organs out of inorganic matter. Thus he is able to heal gruesome wounds through various means. Gold Experience also has one more ability, Life Sensor. When he [Giorno/Gold Experience] touches someone or something, he can sense other lifeforms from within, allowing him to check if someone is alive or even determine how many souls there may be inside a given vessel. (Below is a picture of Giorno and Gold Experience)

But the interesting part about Giorno is not only is he the son of DIO, its also the fact that he is also considered a Joestar as he was conceived with Jonathan Joestar’s body, with DIO controlling it (after killing Jonathan Joestar, DIO took over his body to become the ultimate life form 100 years before Stardust Crusaders took place.)

We don’t get to see the signature Joestar Star Birthmark on Giorno often, but we do get to catch a glimpse of it in the first episode of the anime and the second chapter of the manga during his fight with Leaky Eye Luca. Which cements him as being the 5th main Joestar in Araki’s story.

Because of his lineage, we know he’s destined to be a special character from the get-go. Inheriting traits and skills from both DIO and Jonathan. Now, I could spend all day pointing out what Giorno has done in the series that he got from DIO, and things he’s done because of the Jonathan in him. But instead of that, I’d rather point out the more notable things he’s done that he’s taken from both his fathers.

We know that DIO was rotten to the core. He had a similar upbringing to Giorno in the sense that their parents neglected him. Dario (DIO’s father) constantly abused DIO calling him both physically and mentally. Whereas, Giorno’s mother neglected him and his step father abused Giorno to no end. Both DIO and Giorno are portrayed to be very smart in their groups. Giorno somehow always knew what animal or insect he’d have to give life to depending on the situation to help him overcome the conflict he was in. For example, in the fight against Man In The Mirror, Giorno also was faced with the issue of Fugo’s stand, Purple Haze and its ability, (A virus that quickly kills you if you inhale it or if your skin comes into contact with it. It also has no cure. Purple Haze is so powerful, that Araki had to write Fugo out of the story.) So to overcome this, Giorno used Gold Experience’s ability Life Giver to give life to an inanimate object (In this case, turning a brick into a Snake - Read left to right i took panels from different pages for the sake of my point)

Also, Both DIO and Giorno are natural leaders, wherever DIO went, be it in Phantom Blood or in Stardust Crusaders, he had followers do his bidding for him. Giorno inherited DIO’s natural ability to lead as later on in Vento Aureo, we all see the team members, inspeseficallfy Guido Mista, in his internal monologue after their battle with White Album, that he sees Giorno being more of a leader than Bruno Bucciarati, the actual leader of the gang at the time. Another attribute that Giorno inherited from DIO, is the need to make his opponent feel powerless. During Giorno’s beatdowns, he is known to shout “MUDA MUDA MUDA MUDA” with Muda being a direct translation from Japanese to English meaning “Useless”, something that DIO was known for, in his fight with Jotaro in Stardust Crusaders. Giorno also uses the “WRYYYYYYY” battle cry a couple times in Vento Aureo. Also, Giorno’s hair used to be black, similar to the other Joestars before him, but when Gold Experience awoken in him, it caused his hair to change to the golden yellow colour we see him as throughout the series. One more thing to point out in Giorno that is reminiscent of DIO that separates him further from the rest of the Joestar lineage, is that Giorno ignited his own change. Giorno had a dream that he wanted to see through, whereas the other Joestars reacted to things happening to ones the hold dear to them that made them want to save others. Jonathan reacted to DIO killing his father, Joseph reacted to the Pillar Men awaking, Jotaro reacted to his mother falling ill because of DIO’s awakening, Josuke reacted to Angelo killing his grandfather, so on and so forth. It was Giorno who kicked the events off of Vento Aureo by himself, persuading Bucciarati to take down the Boss of Passione (Diavolo).

The traits and attributes that Giorno inherited from Jonathan consists of Jonathan’s heart of gold that ultimately guided Giorno down the path he took to heroism, infiltrating Passione and taking down Diavolo. Jonathan’s selflessness also passed onto Giorno. Throughout Vento Aureo, Giorno was willing to sacrifice himself/his body for the benefit of the group despite. Cutting his nose off to spite his face. A great example of this is when Giorno and the gang was on their way to Sardinia. On the flight to Sardinia, they encountered the undead stand named after the world’s biggest rapper at the time, Notorious B.I.G. Giorno deduced how B.I.G was tracking them despite being dead, and it was motion. B.I.G reacted to any and all motion around it, causing the stand to automatically hunt down, attach itself, and attempt to kill whatever surface around it that was the fastest. So, while on the airplane, Giorno selflessly lured B.I.G onto the only arm he had left (Giorno had already lost an arm to B.I.G earlier in the fight and had not used Gold Experience to make himself a new arm)

Giorno knew it was a gamble, he had cut both arms off to save the team. Naturally, this incapacitated Giorno for the rest of the fight. But before he could cut his arm off, he turned one of his ladybug brooches into a his own hand, which carried the power of Gold Experience. Thanks to this, after the fight was over, he was able to accomplish two things. First, He helped Trish mature as B.I.G came back and Trish ultimately defeated the stand by awakening to her stand, Spice Girl. The other thing that Giorno was able to accomplish was that he was still able to heal himself and the team using the brooch that Trish worked to protect from B.I.G.

Just as Giorno had a similar upbringing to DIO, he also had parts of his childhood that Jonathan went through as well. Giorno was always the kid that got bullied by the other kids, much like Jonathan. But that all changed when he met the man he came to idolize.

Giorno saved the life of this unknown Gangster, so in return, this Gangster protected Giorno from his abusive step-father, the kids that bullied him, and made sure that young Giorno didn’t go unfed.

Because of the unknown gangster, Giorno was inspired to protect the little guy. In a world of corrupt government and crime, Giorno had a dream of being a GANG-STAR. Instead of using power to benefit himself, he wanted to use his power both literally and figuratively to make sure that nobody would have to go through the same kind of upbringing he had to go through.

Giorno truly is all the best parts of both DIO and Jonathan rolled into one character.

In Giorno’s bio page in the second last chapter in Vento Aureo, it is said that “What Giorno desires most is hope. He has faith that he can reach any destination, as long as he has hope.” This bio page also states that the source of Giorno’s hope and justice was the unknown gangster.

You can argue that his hope was able to manifest itself and what ultimately turned Gold Experience into Gold Experience Requiem (GER) in the final confrontation with Diavolo. Giorno literally becomes unbeatable with GER. GER’s PASSIVE ABILITY is that any hostility directed toward Giorno gets nullified and all action and intent of the attack gets set back to zero, preventing any attack that is directed to him from becoming “real”. (Pictured below is Giorno and Gold Experience Requiem)

You can say that Giorno has hope and faith in himself that nobody will be able to stand in the way of his dream. So Requiem literally makes it so that nobody can harm him.

Giorno’s whole life, he had struggled with finding his own self worth and managed to find self satisfaction in saving a stranger which made him realize what he enjoyed doing in life. Helping others, putting himself in danger to make his own dream come a reality. Giorno’s admiration, spirit, pride, and willpower to fight is contagious and quickly spreads throughout the entire cast of characters in Vento Aureo.

One of the most important characters to Giorno’s development is his right hand man, Bruno Bucciarati who has done even more selfless acts than Giorno has done for the sake of others.

From the moment they met, they both realized that each other were special people. Bruno from a young age was infatuated with assisting others, easing the burdens of others just to make them happy, much like Giorno, which is what makes their relationship so special.

During the turning point of Vento Aureo, Bucciarati died in his fight with King Crimson. Giorno was going as fast as he could to save Bucciarati from his mortal wounds but it was too late. Or so he thought. In that moment where Giorno healed Bucciarati’s body, his soul had already left his body and was on his way to the after life. However, Bucciarati knew that the job was unfinished. His determination, and sheer willpower to see Giorno’s dream come to fruition kept his body alive for the rest of the series until their fated encounter with Diavolo and King Crimson in Rome. Where Bucciarati was finally able to see that Giorno was capable to finish the job himself.

This steeled Giorno’s resolve in his fight against the brutal, merciless, and thoughtless Diavolo, who killed for his own personal gain, not caring for his victims. Diavolo’s ideals and morals are severely distorted and blatantly evil. He thought that he was the one chosen by god to carry out his will to reign over humans as their king. He believed that he was supposed to be the one to judge humans if they should live or not, killing anyone he didn’t see fit into his plan. His mafia also contributed to his heinous crimes as the main reason that Giorno and Bucciarati connected, was their hatred for the boss’ policy of who the mafia sold drugs to. Passione often sold cocaine to women and children, which led to Bucciarati’s father’s murder, and Giorno’s abuse from his father and the bullies.

The abilities that Gold Experience granted him, let him see his dream come to fruition. That mixed with the attributes that he unconsciously inherited from his two fathers, Jonathan Joestar and Dio Brando in combination with Giorno’s will and resolve that was demonstrated to be contagious throughout the events of Vento Aureo. It ultimately affected me on a personal level, which is why I wrote this analysis. I personally deeply admire Giorno and his just dream. Doing anything it takes to see his just dream come true to benefit others despite all his shortcomings in his childhood, and everyone that wronged him in his life. Giorno still believed that he could ignite the change and illuminate the path of those around him to believe his golden dream. Giving others hope, that everything will be alright in the end.

That, is why Giorno Giovanna is brilliant.

#Giorno Giovanna JoJo Vento Aureo Golden Wind Araki Character Analysis

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devolympian · 5 years ago

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Argo chapter 2

Rubble shot out under my body as I was slammed against the ground, a loud groan of pain escaping my lips in the process. However, I wasn’t on the ground for long as I soon found myself flung into the air once more, Clairs strong legs shooting me into the sky as if I were a soccer ball she had kicked.

As I hung in the air I was soon met with a flurry of kicks, each one hurting more than the last all culminating in the heel of her boot being brought down upon my chest and slamming me into the ground again.

My health seemed to plummet from this, but I managed to stagger to my feet and prepared for one final counter attack.

With all of my remaining strength I cupped my hands together and, through pure will power, conjured bright blue flames which compressed into a large fireball like object in my palms.

I followed Clair with my eyes as she fell to the ground, and as soon as her feet touched the dirt under us, I lunged forward and jutted my arms out sending the flames barreling towards her.

Clairabell simply leaped over it and landed in front of me.

Red and white lights flashed as she gathered energy into her strong, muscular legs and launched an endless onslaught of kicks so fast that they blurred together into bright flashes, tearing space and time asunder. And every kick made direct contact with my body.

With one final explosive heel to my jaw, my body was flown backwards landing in an unmoving heap on the ground.

My life had emptied.

“Yes” Clairabell cheered as the screen displayed her name in conformation of her victory, “bow to me mortal!”

“Dang it” I whimpered, watching as her character stood proudly over mine, “why do I suck at street fighter?”

“Well you keep choosing Ryu, that’s a start.”

“You always choose Chun Li though.

“Yeah cause she’s awesome and fun to- shit!”

As we were talking the scene in the game had changed to that of a large gray map with small portraits of the characters in front of it. With a flash an orange square appeared and begane jumping randomly from one portrait to another with loud beeps accompanying it.

With one last beep like noise the square landed on an image of a man with long, braided, brown hair and wearing a white mask.

“Oh” I exclaimed, “it’s Vega.”

“Easy” Clair stated as she prepared for the match, “I’ll have this done in like 10 seconds.”

It was over in thirty with Vega tearing through Chun Li with his clawed hands and superior speed.

Clairabell collapsed into a disappointed husk before the arcade machine, her eyes becoming watery as the words “You lose” flashed brightly before her.

“No, my sexy kick girl! How could he do this to her!?”

“Well he did kill her dad so. . . or, wait, was that M bison?”

As I contemplated this important question a 10 popped up on the screen and slowly started counting down.

“Shit, shit, Skye give me a quarter!”

I nodded ok and reached into my skirt pockets, only to find them empty other than a piece of lint and my ID.

“I’m out.”

“Already?”

“Dude, we’ve been here for an hour.”

“We have?!”

Unable to pay for another chance Clairabell and I watched as the numbers dropped until it hit zero and, in bright red colors, “Game Over” appeared on the screen before us.

“Damnit.”

“Sorry Clair.”

With annoyed huff Clair reached into her shorts and pulled her wallet out.

“Don’t worry Skee skee, I won’t let this masked back up dancer wannabe get the best of me. I’ll just wip out my secret weapon, get some quarters, and then smash his stupid face in!”

“I-it’s just a game though.”

A confident smile grew onto Clairabells face as she unleashed her hidden power, one which I could never hope to achieve even if I tried my hardest.

A platinum credit card with no credit limit, and endless spending so long as you pay the bill on time.

Clairs pink lips curled into an evil smirk and I could tell that she was thinking solely about spending every scent she could to humiliate a fictitious gut who had wronged her and the fictitious girl who has been one of video game crushes since she was like 13.

“Vengeance shall be mine!”

“Y-yeah” I stuttered out, “but won’t it take awhile before you fight Vega, the set up is r-random after all.”

Clair stopped smiling and gave me a disapproving look.

“. . . Skye, please, please just let me have this.”

“O-okay, s-s-sorry.”

“To the ATM” Clair cheered, almost instantly getting her pep back.

With her heels clicking against the arcade floor, Clair confidently struts over to the nearest ATM, her dark brown hair flowing behind her and her swaying hips drawing the gaze of the people she passed by.

I, meanwhile, did my best not to look like a stupid weirdo by scurrying next to her and hoped I was insignifigant enough to be completly off anybodys raidar so that they don’t notice me.

Once we reached the blue and white tower containing an untold amount of treasure (but, if you must know it was most likely between 100,000 and 200,000 USD) Clair raised her hand, placed the card between the scanner built into the ATMs face, swung down, put in a few numbers, and. . . was met with a buzzing noise and the words declined appearing onto the screen.

We stood in silence for a bit until Clair tried again, and was instantly met with the same results.

“Y-you did p-pay your credit bill, right?”

“I have to pay for a credit card?!”

Now, soundly defeated by our inability to acquire a hefty sum of money, or at the very least five bucks, Clairabell and I sulked back to our table where the ice in our drinks had melted and watered them down into tasteless puddles of dark sludge, perfectly symbolizing our utter destruction done to us by Vega from street fighter and a lack of change in either of our wallets.

With a heavy sigh Clair slumped forward against the table resting her chest on the wooden surface and began playing with the coasters, moving them around and making them spin.

“Sorry Clair” I said again, hoping it might make her feel a little better, “w-when I get paid we’ll come back. I-it’ll be a month though, sorry.”

Clair sunk lower into the table from my statement, a defeated groan escaping her mouth yet again.

“Stupid ATM” Clair stated while holding a coaster between the tip of her pointer finger and the table and spinning it, “making me look stupid. I’m made of skin you’re just plastic, so who’s stupid now?! Right Skee skee?”

“Oh, um.” Thinking as quickly as I could, I did my best to come up with an answer that would raise Clairs spirit, and make me feel like less of a bad friend for not being able to help. “W-well, th-the ATM is an inanimate object with no ability to create memories or any other neuron processing abilities, so I guess you’re by far more intelligent then it.”

I smiled after finishing my statement, while mentally patting myself on the back. There was no way that didn’t make her happy.

Clairabell just looked at me with confusion. “The hell are Neurons?”

“O-oh, they’re a cell in your brain which transmits nerve impulses when specific actions are triggered. Memories are the result of specific neurons being activated when the brain recognizes certain stimuli such as patterns and such.” “. . .” “. . .”

“Ok beautiful, I’m gonna pretend what you said makes perfect sense to me.”

“Sorry.”

I felt my face get slightly red as Clair giggled at my expense. Well, she was feeling better at the very least.

“Oh” she said, jumping up and pulling her phone out of her pocket, “I’ll call daddy!”

I watched as Clairs red tipped finger tapped on her phone with the speed of a carnivorous animal attacking the first meal it had eaten in days and the hungry look in her eyes showing the clear determination she had to devour what she wanted in one swift bite.

Dang, I’m hungry.

She placed the phone to her ear and we waited speechlessly for an answer on the other end.

“Hi daddy” Clair practically shouted, a smile spread far across her face. However, her face full of joy soon became one of shock and confusion. “What!?”

“W-what’s wrong” I stuttered, as a feeling of dread set into my empty stomach.

“Daddy that’s not fair, you can’t- What!? You can’t be serious, it is not that big of a deal!”

“Clairabell?”

“¡Oh, Dios mío, papi, estás jodidamente loco! Sí, apuesto a que si fuera Essy, ¡lo dejarías pasar!”

And now she’s speaking Spanish. By this point I was fully aware that I was no longer relevant to this conversation.

“What? What!?”

With a loud humph Clair turned to me, an angry scowl on her face.

“Skee skee I’m going outside for a minute.”

“Wh- w-wait. Clair!”

Before I was able to protest my sudden abandonment Clair was already heading for the entrance of the arcade, yelling angrily into her phone as she did so.

Within seconds of her departure my whole body began to shake and my eyes began involuntarily darting around the building, unsure where my site should be landing or if I should even be looking at anything at all.

Beads of sweat began falling down my forehead and arms and my throat became suddenly dry as I became painfully aware of how warm this place had become.

Without really thinking I forced my watered down soda between my lips and drank the odd tasting liquid into my body.

As I set the now empty glass back onto the table my thoughts finally caught up to me and questions began flowing into my mind faster than they could be answered.

How many people are here?

Are they going to talk to me?

Should I talk to them?

Is it strange that I’m here alone?

Is it wrong to be here alone?

Where were my friends?

How much are the chicken strips here?

Should I scrounge around for quarters and play the games?

Is it okay for me to play the games without my friends around?

If I tried starting a conversation how long would it be until people yelled at me to leave?

How much are the chicken strips here?!

My brain began to ache from trying to answer the never ending onslaught of questions that I began attacking myself with.

Why did Clair have to take her call outside and leave me in this social battle zone where I am left completely defenseless with my subpar social skills and basically useless communicative abilities.

If Zee were here this feeling would most likely have been lessened and. . . come to think of it, where the heck was Zee?

I guess he’d messaged Clair a little after we’d gotten to the arcade, saying he would be a little late, but he’s normally not this late.

The idea that something bad had happened, or that Zee was in some sort of trouble added itself to my growing number of concerns.

I wish I had a book to read.

I wish I was plotting a masterly crafted revenge scheme with Edmond Dantes, or hunting for lost treasures alongside Jim Hawkins, or fighting alongside the knights of the round table for the glory of king Arthur, or learning how to try new things like green eggs and ham with Sam I am.

My fingers began tapping against the table without me telling them too, almost as if they were typing my thoughts onto an invisible keyboard so that I could read how pathetic I actually was.

No, wait. This isn’t right!

I desperately tried to swallow the knot that had formed in my throat and forced my fingers away from the table before they could make deeper scratches into it.

This was a blessing in disguise. An opportunity that the gods have presented to me so that I might better myself socially and become a proper adult which will benefit society at large.

Clenching my hands into fist, I stood up in my stall, turned towards the violent army of people laid before me, mentally readied my ammunition with various puns on super mario bros and tetris that were always great conversation starters (so I’ve heard), set my foot into the battle zone, and. . . immediately sat back down, my body shaking from my feet to my pony tail.

Hey, I made it a step! That’s a win right?

With a heavy sigh, I just continued sitting in my booth, waiting for Clairabell to return.

That’s when my eyes wandered upwards to the TVs above the bar and a gasp escaped my lips as a sense of awe took over my heart.

Plastered onto the three screens was the same image of a reporter standing in front of a city in North America that was covered in dust and smoke. She spoke with a composed and calm voice but her body was shaking all over and her arms would gesture wildly as she explained the situation.

Unfortunately, the sound was muted by the noises in the arcade but the camera shaking wildly and the cause of the destruction rising from the ground a few moments later made me certain of what was happening.

Not too far from the reporter and her camera crew a creature had emerged, dirt tumbling down its long serpentine body and the sun glistening off its dark red skin. As it sung its upper half towards the camera I saw that its face was nothing more than a large gaping hole lined with crooked teeth that spun into a dark, empty void.

An Olgoi-Khorkhoi, a Mongolian death worm, had invaded the city and destroyed it out of predatory instinct.

It was so cool!

I mean, not the city destroying part, that is awful for all parties involved, but the death worm itself is probably one of the most amazing animals on the planet!

First off, it actually isn’t even a worm, it is a dragon species which evolved into their current form after their specific species was forced to migrate to desert areas over millions of years ago. Second off It is a dragon!

And that’s not even the coolest part

As they adapted to their environment the worms, or wyrms as we can probably call them, developed thermosensitive scales which adjusted their body temperature according to how hot or cold it was keeping them safe from the deserts rapidly changing temperatures. Their scales would even change color depending on the temperature, red meaning cold and blue meaning warm. Also, they developed giant mouths and the ability to freaking eat anything!

Isn’t that awesome!?

Granted, this does make them rather dangerous when they wander into cities or towns and are extremely frustrating to get rid of. However, the fact that they live in deserts far underground and tend to stay in one place unless mating makes this an extremely rare event.

But when they do pop up, an even more amazing creature follows.

Just as the worm prepared to dive back into the ground a barrage of golden arrows rained down onto it.

The arrows didn’t seem to bother it but the large number of explosions that followed did as every arrow erupted into a cloud of smoke and flames.

Panicked, the giant creature began tossing around in every direction and two long tentacles appeared out of its mouth in a desperate attempt to catch its attacker only to find that the scales covering its body began to change from their current red color to a dark blue as a giant pillar of fire erupted around it.

As the flames cleared the now blue worm was shown wrapped in chains held by a man with bat-like wings, large horns sprouting from his head, and a tail ending in a sharp barb.

Props to the camera crew by the way, these shots are amazing. So clear too.

The winged man struggled against the worm as it thrashed around desperate to escape its bondage, with intense struggle causing more damage to the city and sending the man crashing into multiple buildings as he held onto his prey.

Moments after this struggle began another man, this one with a long orange ponytail and a large golden bow stepped into the camera shot.

He looked like a college athlete having a large build, broad shoulders, and noticeable muscles. He wasn’t as large or muscular as Zee but he still looked exactly as I dreamed these people would. People who traveled the world, discovering new lands, battling monsters and great evils, aided by any god they wanted to help them.

He looked like an adventurer.

Holding the bow he held up a pillar of blinding light formed around him only to vanish moments later as millions of golden arrows hovered in the air around the orange haired adventurer.

Taking aim at the worm, he pulled the string of his bow back, released it, and caused the arrows to go flying towards the monster, exploding on contact just like they did last time.

The adventurer then promptly turned towards the camera with a smug smile and a cocky look in his golden eyes. He started saying something to the reporter and her crew, which I couldn’t hear cause bar noises, only to be interrupted by his partner slamming into him.

The camera followed the two as they rolled into the ground and kept filming them as they began, I assume by the angry faces, yelling and arguing with each other.

They stopped soon however as something caught their attention.

The crew turned back towards the worm as a large lump began running up its body and a pillar of dirt, and chunks of the city erupted out of their mouths.

Interesting factoid about Mongolian death worms, they are capable of turning their stomachs inside out and can actually regurgitate whatever they’ve eaten like a super soaker blasting people in the face. It is awesome to look at but most likely not a fun experience when you’re in the direct vicinity when it happens.

The death worm began slowly turning towards the crew and adventures as it fired its pre eaten food with deadly force.

My heart beat filled my ears as I clutched my seat in anticipation for what would happen, hoping with everything that the heroes would pull out one final secret move to combat the attack.

Just then, a black flash shot through the air striking the death worm just as it was about to hit the crew and causing it to fall forward into the city.

I felt my eyes go wide at the images before me and my heart began to pound even louder as I waited for the worm to get back up and face its new challenger.

But, like all epics, this one has a rather disappointing ending.

The worm vanished. Like, straight up, just disappeared.

I eyed the TV with utter confusion and a feeling of disbelief at what had happened.

Then, another black flash shot down directly in front of the camera crew and standing there, with his award winning goofball smile, spiky black hair, and electric blue eyes was. . .

“Zee!”

I shot up out of my seat, my glasses nearly flying off my face when I did so, and watched as my friend stood in front of the wrecked city looking like a superhero. . . before sitting back down and hoping nobody had noticed my outburst.

This was probably what he meant when he said work and, to be honest, it was really stupid of me to be surprised by this.

I’ve seen videos of him locked in combat with creatures from around the world and even have some stuff that he brought me from those countries. But still, it was kind of surprising to see him on live TV.

How he defeated the worm when the other two adventurers were struggling to even damage it was also something that grabbed my curiosity and refused to let go.

So, naturally I continued to watch the TV in desperate anticipation for any clue I could gain from the scene in front of me. That is, until someone stepped in front of me and blocked my view and I suddenly felt my stomach grow tight and found that it was getting harder to take in air, almost like someone was slowly squeezing my neck until I couldn’t breathe properly.

A young man was standing in front of me, his freckled cheeks tinted with a bright pink as he rubbed behind his curly brown hair and his dark eyes refused to meet mine. Every now and then he’d glance over to, I’m assuming, his group of friends but other than that he didn’t really do or say anything for a few seconds.

Eventually he moved his lips but, for some reason, I couldn’t hear what he was saying. Instead my ears had become filled with a sharp buzzing noise that drowned out all other sources of sound.

The guy in front of me, the people having fun at the bar, even the sound of the video games that surrounded us had become muted to me.

I tried to respond as best I could but every time I thought of what to say the words were erased from my mind before I could get them out of my mouth.

Then, in an instant all the noise shot back into my ears and I was greeted by the laughs of people having fun and the video games that had been entertaining them.

“So, yeah” the guy in front of me said, as he rubbed the back of his head and tried not to look at his feet, “ . . .you-you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I completely understand!”

He glanced around a bit more, his face beat red, as he waited for my response to the question I didn’t know.

What should I say? What should I do? These questions repeated themselves in my mind over and over again and no matter what I thought of it felt like the wrong answer.

Sweat began to drip down my body as my fingers started playing an invisible piano again. All while I stared blankly at the stranger in front of me who was patiently waiting for my response.

I clutched the hem of my skirt in my other hand and twisted the fabric until my heart stopped pounding in my chest.

This person was trying to interact and start a conversation with me, and I was just staring at him like how a child stares at something they don’t understand.

I owed him a response, didn’t I?

Swallowing the lump made of air that was clogging my throat I mentally readied my words and, with all causian thrown to the wind, I let the first answer that I could come up with out of my mouth.

“I have to pee?”

We both looked wide eyed at each other in silence once more as we pondered my question, which I really wasn’t sure why I asked.

“Oh, uh yeah, okay. I’ll just get out of your way.”

I watched as he stumbled back to his table where I could see his friends laughing and patting him on the back.

It took me a few minutes to remember that I asked to go to the bathroom, even though I don’t have to, and that I should probably start making my way towards there.

My legs jerked my body out of the booth and I began to stagger blindly through the crowd of people, bumping into bodies without realizing it and all around being the nuisance that I am.

As my breath shook its way out of my lungs I clutched the marble counter in front of me as I tried to steady my body.

Somehow, I managed to make it to the bathroom.

I wasn’t sure how I’d gotten to the bathroom, heck I wasn’t even sure I was still in the arcade, but I ultimately managed to complete the task I had absentmindedly assigned myself.

. . .

Now what do I do?

I couldn’t exactly go back out, but if I didn’t and Clair came back she might get worried.

She could probably figure out where I was but she might get mad at me for making her go through this, or get mad at the guy who tried talking to me, or call the cops to try and find me, or. . .

I looked at myself in the mirror and felt my stomach turn at the site of my reflection and I asked myself the same question I’d been asking for a few years now.

What is wrong with me?

Like usual, I couldn’t bring myself to come up with a good answer and just ended up messing with my blonde hair a little cause the bangs kept getting in front of my glasses.

With a sigh I continued to stand in front of the bathroom sinks my fingers tapping the marble that they were made of. I could leave soon, but for now I would have to wait, and probably think up an apology for Clairabell and the boy I was rude too.

For now though, I should keep my mind busy.

As I began tracing circles in the small puddles of water scattered around the counter a thought popped into my head. A little idea to keep my brain occupied and off uncomfortable subject matter.

Placing my hands under the automatic faucet I took a deep breath as the warm water began to pour out soaking my fingers and palms. Once my hands were significantly wet enough I slowly pulled them away, letting the water dribble onto the counter in front of me and whispered the word which I had to say.

“Undine.”

The moment the name slipped out of my mouth the water in front of me began to gather into my hands until it eventually formed a small ball. It was sort of like a large glass marble with how clear and shiny it was.

I smiled a little as I balanced the liquid in my hands before clutching it tightly with my fingers as I began pulling and stretching it.

Doing my best to make sure that the water held its shape I began twisting and turning it, like a baker molding their doe into the shape they wish to form but unsure what that actually was.

Eventually my hands began to move without my input as my mind pieced together what I wanted to create.

I started to smooth out the water until it was a sort of oval shape making sure that one end was a bit thicker than the other and that the smaller end had a bit of a curve to it before I tugged at the bottom until there was a peg on the sides which I slimmed down a little.

Next, I pinched the small end and twisted the water around before pulling at it making a long, curly, “tail” appear.

Then I cupped my hands around the top and started pushing some water upwards before turning it forward away from the body and did my best to give it a sort of boxy triangle shape. Tugging on either end of the shape I pulled two smaller triangles up and rubbed in them to make sure they were slightly dented inwards. And, just to add texture, I pushed my thumbs into the sides of the large triangle beneath where I had made the small dented ones before adding two much larger dents near the tip.

Brushing my hand down the back of the “neck” I made a long flowing main appear and finally sat my shape down on the counter, it’s shape holding so long as I focused on it.

My horse made of water sat perfectly on the marble in front of me, the light reflecting off its clear liquid body as a little water droplets dripped down it.

Butterflies tickled my stomach as I felt myself smile involuntarily.

It wasn’t anything special, in fact I’m sure looked awful compared to other peoples creations. But, I don’t know, guess I just really liked how it turned out.

Oh, I know!

Reaching into my skirt pocket I fumbled around a bit until my hands felt the cold metal of my zippo lighter resting just below my house key. I ran my thumb across my initials that my grandpa had emblemed onto its surface, just to make sure that it was mine, before pulling it out.

I flipped the top up and a small flame almost immediately materialized.

Holding the fire just below my little horse's head I tried my best to split my focus between the water and the fire in my hand.

“Salamander.”

With that word out of my mouth the flame started swirling around my little horse wrapping itself around its body, legs, and head before slowly sinking into the water. Unlike normal fire though, it didn’t extinguish but instead formed a small ball in the center and made my horses “eyes” glow a bright orange.

The horse then reared back on its back legs and let out a loud whine before it began galloping around the counter as if it were on an open field.

It was ultimately a simple spell, using fire to give life to a small object was sort of the second thing you need to learn when studying elemental magic after all.

But the sight of my little horsey galloping around made me feel as giddy as if I were a little kid. It was so cute that I couldn’t help but clap a little when it came alive.

Not wanting to stop there though, I placed my hand just above my horse while it grazed on a small puddle near the sink.

“Sylph”.

Instantly, wind began to shoot from my hand and, just like the fire, wrapped itself around my little horsey before going inside it.

My horse looked up from its water as two large wings popped out of its back.

Almost instinctively, it began running forward and started flapping its brand new wings until it lifted itself off the ground and began soaring all around the bathroom. It took to flying pretty easily if I do say so myself.

As I watched my little horse flap around I felt my mind start to clear and a sort of calmness began to settle over me. My shoulders relaxed and my muscles seemed to loosen up, as I let myself fall into a dazed state.

I didn’t have to think about going back into the arcade, about worrying Clair, or upsetting the guy who tried to talk to me. All I had to do was watch my little creation enjoy the life I had given it.

“Hi blondie!” Zee said, his head resting on my shoulder.

I let out a loud scream as I fell forward, grabbing the counter to regain my balance.

“Alex” I responded, my heart pounding wildly in my chest again, “What the heck dude!?”

“Sorry” he said, even though that smile of his told me he wasn’t sorry at all, “I came to use the bathroom and when I saw you zoning out I thought to myself, hey, let’s mess with her.”

“Wow, so glad my reaction of fear was to your liking. I’m afraid I am currently unable to do encourse however as my throat is currently killing me because of you.”

Zee then promptly gasped and looked at me with worry.

“Oh my goodness my lady, I meant you no harm” he responded, his body moving dramatically with every word, “perish the thought as I am but a humble servant in thine lords grace.”

“Dude what?”

“Oh woe is me, to have acted in such an ungentlemanlike way to such a fair lass such as yourself.”

Zee then, with all the acting ability of a highschooler trying not to fail drama class, placed his hands to his chest, spun in place and fell back first into my arms.

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“I’ll think about it” I assured him, doing my best not to giggle, before dropping him to the floor.

“Yaa” he said, as he laid on the bathroom floor of the arcade, “she’ll think about it.”

This causes me to let out a laugh. Dang it Zee, let me be mad at you.

As he pulled himself off the floor, and sat on the counter, a sudden realization hit me and I began to panic.

“Zee, you can’t be in here!”

“Hey, this is a free country, my bodily fluids are just as good as anybody else's.

“No dude, this is the girls room!”

“Really? Those must be the decorative waterfalls then.”

He pointed behind me and my face became instantly red as I saw what he was talking about.

“Oh my gods” I gasped as I gazed at the three urinals next to the two bathroom stalls, “this isn’t the girls room.”

“Meh, gendered bathrooms are bull crap anyways.”

“I shouldn’t be in here!”

“Dude, relax. Most of the people here are too drunk to even walk into the bathroom and a lot of them probably won’t mind seeing you is that a pegasus?”

We both looked as my little horsey landed next to Zee on the counter and began grazing on the puddles it found.

“It’s my little horsey” I told him, almost instantly forgetting about the whole bathroom thing, “I got a little bored and-”

“Its name is raindrop.”

“ . . .Dude, yes! Come here raindrop.”

I patted my lap but Raindrop simply went back to flying around to its hearts content. It’ll get used to the name eventually.

“Oh dude” Zee exclaimed, standing up on the counter, “check this out.”

Reaching to his left I watched as Zees hand slowly disappeared and a humming noise began to fill the air around us. After a few seconds he pulled his hand back revealing that he was now holding a small jar filled with dirt and a small red serpent-like creature.”

“No way, is that?”

“A 100% middle eastern, male, Mongolian death worm? Yes, yes it is.”

He handed me the amazing creature before jumping off the counter.

“I fed him a few runes so he’d shrink down and decided it’d be fun to keep him around until I’m near Egypt or Turkey again. Did have to get all the dead bodies out of him first though.”

“Going to pretend I didn’t hear that last part” I responded as I watched the little wormy wrap around the stick Zee had placed in there and start relaxing.

“In all fairness the people he ate are alive now, because of yours truly, so it all evens out.”

“Are they in anyway zombies?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that the use of zombification was in play here.”

I let myself giggle a little at my friends' slight ridiculousness before returning my attention to the little fella in my hands.

“Ooh, let’s name him Mr.Worms.”

“Nah, that’s too predictable.”

“So is Raindrop and you didn’t see me turn down that name.”

“How about cinnamon? Cause of the red scales.”

“His scales aren’t always red though.”

“Oh yeah that’s right.”

“Hmm, maybe Sandy?”

“Naw, I’m saving that name for my pet squirrel. How about-”

All of a sudden, we were interrupted by the sound of Zees phone ringing.

“Oh” he said, “hold on.”

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone which was encased a pink, kitten shaped cover.

“Moshi moshi” he responded.

“WHERE ARE YOU” I heard Clair scream on the other end.

“Oh hey, Clairabell baby. Long time no see. How is that hunk of a fiance of yours, still a wiz in the sack?”

I couldn’t hear Clairs response, but Zees smirk told me that he got the reaction he wanted.

��Alright, alright we’ll be out in a sec. Love you snookums.”

Zee made a kissy noise into the phone, and I could hear Clair growling angrily, before he hung up.

“Well” he said, grabbing his new pet out of my hand, “let’s go make sure Clairabell doesn’t start murdering people out of worry.”

“Oh, um, okay.”

Zee placed the worm back into the space he pulled him out of and we walked out of the restroom, Raindrop following after us.

To my surprise the bar had become quieter and the patriots had almost all disappeared.

How long had I been in the bathroom for?

Before I could figure out the answer to my question I suddenly felt two, squishy and soft, round orbs smash against my face as I was swept off my feet.

“Skee skee” Clairabell said as she hugged me, and pushed my head into her chest, “I was so worried!”

“C-Clair” I said, doing my best to push her away, “I can’t breath.”

My pleads for mercy were promptly met with Clair tightening the hug until I could feel my body being crushed.

“What” Zee whined, “no love for the hero who found the missing girl.”

Clair, finally loosened her grip, as she turned towards Zee.

“And where the hell were you?”

“Africa.”

The fact that he was able to say this without batting an eye both annoyed, and actually didn’t surprise, me or Cair.

“So” he continued, “what games do you guys wanna play?”

“We’re out of quarters” I told him as I was still held in Clairs arms.

“ . . .Was it Vega?”

“Vega is a cheating asshole” Clair argued, nearly crushing me again.

“Clairabell” I whined,but received no response.

Zee simply smiled coily and crossed his arms.

“Well, it seems you gals are in quite the predicament. To be faced with such a powerful opponent but with no way of defeating him. Truly, I feel nothing but the utmost sorrow at your predicament. Infact, I feel the need to donate all of my earthly possessions to your noble cause.”

“So you’ll give us quarters” I said, finally escaping Clairs grip.

“I wasn’t done hugging you” she promptly stated before grabbing me again.

“Watch where you’re touching please!”

“Hmm, yes, I would love to donate this treasure which you commonly call quarters. . . but I broke.”

We stood in silence for a sec.

“Say what?”

“I broke. I don’t have any money. Me is poor.”

“So why’d you offer us the quarters” Clair asked, squeezing me again. She probably would have snapped me in half if I didn’t manage to squirm free.

“It was fun,” Zee answered, his signature smirk returning.

Clairabell and I simply glared at him, the fact that we could never defeat Vega now actually annoying us more then Zee was.

“Oh come on don’t be mad” he said before rushing over to us and lifting both me and Clairabell over his shoulders, “for I know where our adventure can continue.”

“Hey, hey, hey” I protested as I was once again, unwillingly picked up.

“Yes” Zee answered, even though nobody asked a question, “a magical place in which dreams and happiness are bound. A place where we can be free to do as we please, and be who we are meant to be.”

“Skyes place” Clairabell asked.

“Yep”

“Hey wait guys” I started to say, “I should probably ask my pare-”

Before I could finish my sentence Zee began rushing to the exit, still holding me and Clair on his shoulders.

As we ran through the bar none of us could help letting out laughs and allowing smiles to grow on our faces.

We simply ignored the people around us and set out on our epic adventure.

#creative writing #writing #original story #urban fantasy #modern fanta

3 notes · View notes

justlightlysedated · 6 years ago

Note

Selcouth for Malex? 💗

29. selcouth - unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet wonderful

“Michael Guerin, isn’t exactly an alien name,” Alex muses as he tilts his head back and lets out a plume of smoke into the air.

Michael hasn’t looked away from him since Rosa had introduced him as her temporary roommate, given that Liz had enrolled for the Alien Exchange Program.

She gets to spend one semester in Antar, and an Antarian gets to spend one semester on Earth.

The staring might’ve gotten a little unnerving, but Michael didn’t look like an alien either.

He looked human, at least on the outside, and not a bad looking human either.

No one ever looks at Alex the way that Michael is, and it makes Alex wonder if Michael is human all over.

Michael licks his lips, taking a sip of the drink that Rosa had placed in his hands before disappearing back downstairs to the party leaving Michael with Alex on the roof.

“I am Rath of Antar,” Michael says after a second looking away for the first time.

Alex purses his mouth and takes another hit of the lit joint Rosa also left behind.

“Rath, huh?” He says and sees the way that Michael shifts like he’s uncomfortable.

“I kind of like Guerin, better,” Alex says nonchalantly, and sees the way that Michael relaxes and sends him a smile and a look from beneath his curly fringe.

“Thanks, I chose it myself.”

Alex moved Michael’s fingers on the fret even though technically, they weren’t in the wrong position.

Michael was a fast learner. Picking up the lessons quickly, and Alex was running out of reasons to touch him, even though it didn’t seem like Michael minded when he did.

“Okay,” Alex says leaning back. “Play.”

Michael inhales deeply, and starts to play through the intro of the song that Alex had been teaching him.

His eyes fell shut, and his lips parted, and he went through the chords again, starting the melody over.

Alex watches him feeling his breath catch in his chest as Michael seems to start to glow softly from within, a soft golden glow that Alex can’t look away from.

Michael’s eyes flutter open and he catches Alex’s eyes and the glow seems to get brighter, and Alex begins to feel warm as though Michael is exuding heat as well as light.

He seems to realize what he’s doing and freaks out, giving Alex a wide eyed stare and looks away as the glow goes out like someone switched off a light.

Alex watches him speculatively as Michael goes through the chord progression again.

“Sorry,” he says startling Alex who wasn’t really expecting him to talk, since he hardly ever did.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Alex says feeling a little confused. “I already knew you were an alien. Strangeness is totally expected.”

Michael looks back to him with wide eyes as though he wasn’t expecting Alex to say that.

Alex swallows hard and gives him a smile, “I think you know enough to start on the rest of the song.”

Michael nods his head slowly, and listens to Alex as he goes through the finger movements verbally, with an intent look on his face as he looks at Alex’s fingers.

Alex bites down on his lip as Michael inhales deeply and gives him a quick indescribable look before he starts to play.

He goes through the whole song once, and then starts it all over again, and it’s only when he’s halfway through the second time, that he starts to glow again.

Alex watches him intently and wonders why, and if Michael would tell him if he asked.

“Have you ever seen Michael glow?” Alex asks as he watches Michael look intently at a customer giving their order from his position in the furthest booth where he can see the whole diner at the same time.

Rosa makes a bored sound as she continues going through the stack of CDs she’d asked Alex to bring.

“Only when he’s sleeping in that pod of his,” she answers. “Maybe it’s like a warning to all potential predators, or it could just mean he feels secure, after all, that pod is the only place on earth where nothing can hurt him.”

Alex feels the heat flare up the back of his neck and to his cheeks, and he looks over to where Michael is staring right back at him.

He smiles and Michael bumps into one of the tables dropping and then catching the tray of milkshakes he’d been carrying with his powers, face tomato red.

Rosa snorts, and Alex looks down at the table biting his lip down on the smile that wants to take over his face.

After many failed experiments, Rosa finally managed to find a way to get Michael high.

He lies back on the roof of the Crashdown, looking up at the stars with wide eyes.

Alex watches him as he finishes the joint that Rosa left when she went to go make out with Maria in her bedroom.

He sets the joint aside and lets it burn itself out as he leans forward a little, reaching out and tugging on one of his curls.

Michael turns his head towards Alex slowly, blinking, drowsily as though he were moments from falling asleep.

Since he doesn’t tell him to stop, Alex settles himself on his stomach, resting his chin on one of his arms, the other arm extended, fingers sneaking their way through Michael’s curls, tugging on them and biting his lip on a giggle when they bounce back to their curly shape.

“Why don’t you like the name Rath?” Alex asks curiously, not really expecting an answer, so when Michael does start speaking, he jumps a little bit.

“Rath of Antar is the son of a general, expected to follow in his father’s footsteps. My whole life, he’s been training me to take over when he retires, but that’s not the life that I want.”

“And what do you want?” Alex asks settling his hand on top of Michael’s head.

Michael looks at him and Alex looks back, and doesn’t move when Michael turns to his stomach as well.

The move puts him firmly in Alex’s personal space, and Alex finds it difficult to think for a second.

Michael takes advantage to slide his hand to the back of Alex’s neck, fingers digging in as his gaze zeroes on Alex’s mouth and he tugs him in gently.

“Wait,” Alex breathes as their noses brush.

Michael stops moving, and darts his eyes up to look into Alex’s eyes.

Alex feels all the air catch in his lungs.

He’s never seen Michael’s eyes from this close, and even in the dim light Alex can see the swirl of green and gold and brown and dark, dark blues that make up the color of his iris. His pupils are blown wide enough that Alex knows he’s still really fucking high.

“Not now,” Alex breathes, and Michael pulls away a little.

Alex finds himself moving forward in spite of the fact that he still doesn’t think they should kiss right now.

Michael gives him a considering look.

“You’re high,” Alex points out redundantly. “And I’m high, and while normally I don’t mind making out while high-”

Michael’s face falls to a frown, and Alex bites his lip before he continues speaking.

“I don’t want our first kiss to be while high,” Alex admits.

Michael stops avoiding Alex’s gaze and stares back at him.

He just nods his head slowly. “Okay, tomorrow?”

Alex feels a zing go down his spine at the thought that tomorrow he might actually kiss Michael.

Alex licks his lips and Michael’s eyes drop to his mouth and stays there.

“Tomorrow.”

Alex feels the anticipation prickling across his skin like static electricity.

He feels like his skin is on too tight, and whenever Michael looks at him for a second too long, Alex feels like he might combust.

This is crazy.

Maybe he shouldn’t have set a time for this to happen.

Maybe he should’ve just told Michael to surprise him, because the clock seems to be taking forever to reach the end of Michael’s shift at the Crashdown, and if Michael looks in his direction one more time, Alex is going to say fuck it all and pull him into the bathroom.

“Ay Dios mio,” Rosa says exasperated as Alex’s knee starts rattling the table again.

“Why don’t you just go upstairs and wait for him somewhere where you aren’t driving me crazy?”

Alex looks over to where Rosa is surrounded by all of her notes for her Art History class.

“Sorry,” he says before he slides out of the booth to head up the stairs.

Alex darts a look over to see Michael openly staring at him, standing right in the middle of the room.

Alex swallows hard and just pulls his bottom lip into his mouth.

He sees Michael take one step towards him before there is the sound of a bell, “Order up.”

Alex looks away and goes upstairs.

He goes to the guest room that Michael is using and throws himself back on the bed.

He closes his eyes and bites down on his lip and tries not to think about kissing Michael Guerin, even though it’s the only thing he’s been thinking about for weeks.

He doesn’t know how long he lies there, but he feels it when Michael walks into the room.

The door closes with a low snick sound that sends a shiver down Alex’s spine.

Alex doesn’t move from the bed.

He holds his breath as Michael walks further into the room.

He feels Michael sitting down right next to him, the heat of him seeping immediately into Alex.

He can feel Michael leaning over him, but he still doesn’t open his eyes.

Not until he feels Michael’s nose nudging against his and his breath hot across his face.

His eyes flutter open, and his breath hitches at the look in Michael’s eyes.

Michael smiles when Alex opens his eyes and he leans in and presses a soft kiss to his mouth.

Alex inhales sharply and presses into the kiss, feeling sparks of electric currents running down his spine.

Michael pulls back, but not too far, eyes opening to look at Alex.

Alex lets him stare for exactly one second, before he’s sliding his hands into Michael’s hair and pulling him down for another kiss.

Alex had dressed up in his best clothes (still mostly wearing black, but that was a given), he’d even tried to tame his hair a little bit instead of just spiking it up and letting it do whatever it wanted.

He asked Maria to borrow her truck and had made sure that there were no xenophobic alien movies being shown.

Michael had also dressed up, wearing a nice faded red button down and jeans that weren’t ripped at the knees.

Everything was going to plan.

They’d gotten to the drive in early enough that the good spots weren’t taken, and Alex had gone to get them some snacks after Michael had pushed him into the side of the truck and kissed him within an inch of his life.

Alex had walked away with a stupid look on his face feeling like he was walking on air.

So of course, his dad is there waiting to pounce and tell him exactly what he and everyone else thinks of his little display.

Alex feels the sting of embarrassment as he walks away from him, clutching the popcorn tightly in his hands.

Michael is sitting on the tailgate with the sixer that Rosa had put into the back of the truck with a wink when Alex had picked Michael up.

The closer he gets to him and the further he gets from his dad and his venomous words meant to poison Alex’s feelings and his good mood, the more determined Alex becomes.

“Hey,” Michael says. “Did you get some twizzlers? I really love the-”

Alex drops the popcorn beside Michael, not caring that it tips over and spills.

He kisses Michael cutting his words off, deep and wet and all consuming and unlike they’ve kissed up until this point.

Its Alex making a stand to anyone who wants to watch.

This is who he is and this is who he wants and his dad can go to hell if he thinks he’s going to scare Alex into submission.

“Whoa,” Michael says as Alex pulls back.

Alex just licks his lips and sits down beside Michael.

He pulls the twizzlers out of his pocket, and throws them on Michael’s lap as the lights go out and the movie starts to play.

Michael doesn’t look away from him.

“Alex!” Michael calls out and Alex curses under his breath. He’d been hoping to avoid Michael until after he saw Rosa and she could help him cover up the black and purple bruise around his eye.

This was one aspect of his life that he’d been hoping to keep away from Michael.

After his display last night, Alex knew that he was going to be in trouble as soon as he got home. All things considered, a black eye and some bruises were nothing.

Alex inhales and keeps his eyes closed until he feels Michael come up behind him.

When Michael reaches for him, Alex flinches and he can feel Michael freezing behind him.

“Alex?” He asks voice soft and confused.

Alex inhales deeply and turns around.

Michael reacts exactly how Alex had expected him to.

He gasps and steps in close, eyes going furious as he looks at the bruise around his eye and his gaze darts to the black fingerprints smudged beneath his jaw.

“Who-?” He starts sounding like he’s about to take on the whole world.

Alex can feel the way he’s vibrating even though they’re not touching because it almost feels like he’s shaking the entire street, which is entirely plausible.

Alex reaches out and wraps his fingers around Michael’s wrist, “Let’s go somewhere private?”

Michael swallows hard, but stops shaking.

He nods his head and when Alex turns to lead the way to the closed UFO Emporium, he follows close behind.

Alex leads them to the gift shop which is the most secluded spot in the whole place.

He turns to Michael, but Michael keeps walking until he’s pressing Alex gently into the wall behind them.

Alex swallows hard as Michael tilts his head and studies the bruises on his neck.

“What happened?” Michael asks and Alex can hear a tremor in his voice, echoed in the way items start rattling on the shelves.

Alex takes in a deep breath and looks up at the cracked and water damaged ceiling.

“My dad,” he starts and then swallows and starts again. “My dad is trying his own form of conversion therapy.”

Michael makes a low guttural sound that sounds like a curse in another language.

“Is it because-?”

“It wouldn’t have mattered if we stayed five feet apart,” Alex says cutting him off. “This isn’t the first time.”

Michael leans back a little and just stares at Alex with his wide probing eyes.

“I’m fine,” Alex says and Michael’s eyes narrow. “In a few months I’ll be somewhere far away from Roswell and he won’t be able to touch me again.”

Michael stares some more before he’s leaning forward and his hands are glowing, a soft pulsing red.

“What-?” Alex starts to ask, but Michael touches him, fingers pressing along the bruises on his neck and Alex feels a sudden spike in heat and he gasps reaching forward to clench his fingers in the collar of Michael’s jacket as he slides his hand up to the back of Alex’s neck and closes his eyes, brow furrowed in concentration.

Alex feels waves of heat spread from Michael’s hands cupped against his neck that radiate throughout his entire body, spreading a soothing feeling of relief everywhere, like he was dipped in a hot bath to soothe aching muscles.

Michael’s hands slide down a little fingers rubbing against his hairline as the heat intensifies.

“Guerin,” Alex gasps, tipping his head back and opening his mouth on a moan as Michael presses in close and drags his hands down to slide them up the back of Alex’s shirt, so hot that it feels like he’s branding him.

Michael pushes their hips together hard into a dirty grind that sends sparklers popping in the back of Alex’s head.

He hadn’t even realized that he’d been getting hard and now it’s all that he seems to be able to think about as Michael presses his hands flat against his lower back and keeps him pressed close as he grinds harder into him, pressing his forehead to Alex’s jaw as he moans low and hot.

Alex feels overwhelmed, and hot, and desperate, and his hands slide into Michael’s hair as he tugs him up for a kiss, wet and deep and sloppy.

Alex thinks maybe, they should stop.

But then Michael slides his hand, hot and damp into Alex’s pants, wrapping his fingers around the base of Alex’s cock, and Alex is lost.

When Alex blinks his eyes open, Michael is staring at him, with his bottom lip caught between his teeth looking somewhere between proud and guilty.

Alex thinks that maybe he left him a hickey or something, and he finds that he’s half right when he ducks into the bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror.

There are two glowing handprints right against either side of his neck, and then silver trails tracking everywhere Michael touched him yesterday with his hot, hot hands.

The thing that stops Alex short however is the fact that there is no evidence of his father’s hands on him.

When he walks back into the room, Michael is wearing a hole on the floor, and the guilt has overtaken his face.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Alex says and bites down on his lip when Michael’s gaze snaps to him. “I already knew you were an alien, remember?”

Michael swallows hard and takes a step closer to Alex, and only then when his shoulders drop and he finally seems to be more relaxed, does Alex feel the low pulse of heat right at the back of his head, spreading lower and pooling low in his belly as Michael stares at the marks he left on him.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Alex says, well, marvels really. No one has ever left a mark on him that hadn’t hurt.

“I’m glad,” Michael says voice low and rough. “Because I really like seeing you covered in my marks.”

And then he’s launching forward and pressing Alex back against the wall as he kisses him hard and fast.

Alex feels his hands heating up against his skin and thinks that he’ll happily bear the glowing marks as long as Michael is the one leaving them behind.

#malex fic #this got way longer than i was expecting #thank you for the prompt!!! <3 #malexprompts

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