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freshlove-sturn · 3 months

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experience

part 1

matt sturniolo x reader

a/n: surprise 😋

summary: y/n heads off to college in a few weeks. the only problem? she knew next to nothing about any physical interactions. no sex. no kisses. nothing. so what happens when her best friend, matt, knows just the way to fix her dilemma?

reader pov

“matt i don’t even know what to pack” i look up at matt, who was laying on my bed, throwing my hands down in defeat as i sat with my suitcase open, clothes scattered all over the floor.

“i think you’ve got a good start.” he gestures to the items that were neatly folded inside the suitcase.

“this is stressful.” i sigh, rubbing my hands down my face.

“you’ll be alright. i promise” he assures me. i roll my eyes.

“you don’t know that.” i retort.

“yes i do. i wouldn’t promise you if i didn’t. what about it is stressing you out?” he turns his phone down and adjusts his position on the bed to completely face me.

“all of it.” i reply bluntly.

“well can you be more specific so i can at least try to help you?” matt questions.

i really didn’t want to tell him one of the main reasons why i was stressed out. i’m not even sure if “stress” is the word for it.

truth be told, i’m the most inexperienced person i know. i’ve never had a boyfriend. i’ve never kissed anyone. i’ve never had sex. nothing.

and now in a few weeks i was getting thrown right into college life.

i’d be lying if i said i didn’t feel insecure about it. i knew that everyone around me was going to have at the very least a kiss under their belt. not me though.

there was going to be a whole new display of men at my disposal, and along with that, a whole new group of pretty, experienced girls.

i felt pathetic.

but how could i admit to my childhood best friend that i was stressed out about going to college because i was a virgin? that i had never felt the touch of a man?

but it was matt. i told matt everything. always have. always will.

without even thinking, i blurt “i’m a virgin.”

“what?” matt’s eyes widen at my confession.

“i’ve never had sex. i’ve never been kissed. i’ve never even had a boyfriend, matt. i feel like a child.” i explain, matt’s eyes never leaving mine.

“you don’t have to have done any of those things to be ‘cool’ y/n/n.” his voice was soft and reassuring.

“that’s easy for you to say matt. you have girls practically worshipping the ground you walk on just for a chance with you.” he didn’t get it. he has had girlfriends. he has had kisses. he’s had sex. i didn’t have that.

“who’s to say you don’t have guys doing the same for you?” he raises an eyebrow at me.

“oh really? name one.” i insist.

“oh i can name several. brandon jones bought you 12 of those goofy ass over priced roses that student council was selling for valentine’s day and asked you to prom. you turned down all of his advances. 8th grade, when we were playing spin the bottle in nate’s basement, aiden griffin begged you to play, and when you said no, he didn’t play either.” he holds up a finger for each boy he recalls.

“that’s only two. plus, i hate roses and i always go to dances with you. and also, i didn’t exactly want to have my first kiss with anyone on your hockey team.” i defend.

“you didn’t let me finish.” he hushes me. “jack waters asked you out 4 times and you said no every. single. time.”

“okay okay i get it” i grumble, praying he would shut up.

he was right. i never even gave anyone a chance. it was my fault i had such a lack of experience. there was plenty of opportunity.

which is why i wasn’t even sure why i was sitting here, wallowing in self pity over things i could’ve done ages ago had i not rejected any boy who showed interest in me. until now, guys and everything that came along with that just didn’t seem like a priority to me. i had my best friend, who treated me perfect, and that was enough for me. matt would be there any time a boy made me cry. he would hold me and tell me that they aren’t worth my time, that i deserved the world. i whole heartedly believed anything that came out of his mouth, which i can only assume is partially to blame for my ridiculous standards.

matt treated me like a princess. matt tied my shoes when i was little and didn’t know how, matt was patient when i was learning how to ride my bike without training wheels, matt would eat the green and purple skittles because he knew i only liked the red and orange, matt knew the sidewalk rule, matt covered the edge of the table with his hand when i would drop something underneath so i wouldn’t hit my head when i came back up, matt went all out for my birthday each year, matt had gotten me flowers and chocolate for valentine’s day every year since we were 7. matt did it all.

matt was the best friend i could ever ask for.

he would do anything for me.

which was exactly why, despite my outward reaction, i wasn’t at all surprised by this proposal.

“what if i helped you? i teach you how to do all the things before you got to college so you aren’t going in there blind.”

“like as in-“ i speak slow and unsurely before he cut me off.

“like as in kiss you, have sex with you, what ever you think you need to know before you leave. we can start small and work our way up.” he stares at me intently, as if he was trying to read my face.

“are you sure?” i question.

“if that’s what you want. i want to help you. that’s what friends are for anyway, right? making each other feel good?”

sure, friends are supposed to make each other “feel good”. but by doing friend things.

not sex.

no strings attached though, right? strictly business. people do friends with benefits all the time.

it couldn’t hurt.

matt’s my best friend. he just wants to help me out. friends help each other.

that’s what this is. help.

helping me reach an orgasm.

“nothing has to change between us. we will still be best friends. you don’t have to say yes. if you don’t want to do it, we can just forget thing conversation ever happened alright? i just want you to be comfortable.” he explains.

“deal.” i hold my hand out.

“deal.” he grabs my hand and shakes it.

“but if you’re having doubts, or feelings get involved, or anything goes wrong, we have to cut it off okay?” i narrow my eyes at him. i needed him to know i was serious about our friendship. i could t lose him just because i felt like a helpless virgin.

“got it” he nods.

“so, when should this whole thing start?” i cock my head to the side.

matt leans down from his position on my bed, places his hand on my cheek and slowly leans in.

“here.�� he says as his lips ghost over mine.

before i say a word, our lips connect. my eyes go wide for a second before i relax into the kiss. his lips were just as soft as they looked.

i was having my first kiss.

with my best friend.

holy fuck.

a/n: I HOPE YALL LIKE THIS AHH. i’m kind of excited for this series. lmk how you’re feeling so far 😋😋

taglist: @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @creamoncreamoncream2 @pepsiimaxx @honestlybabymiracle @chrissturnioloswifesblog @eliiii333 @luvmxtt @mattestrella @hearts4chris

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #chrissturnioloxreader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolos #space camp #space camp wellness #cut the camera podcast #fresh love #nathan doe #sturniolo smut #campers

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estellamiraiauthor · 1 year

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The Stars May Rise and Fall: The Annotated Re-read (Chapter 8)

(Kiyomi in front of Alta: A fitting image for this chapter!)

Fun fact: In my very old files of a draft from 2005 or so, this Chapter 8 is Chapter 11, and the chapter title (before I did away with chapter titles) was “Forbidden fire”. Definitely a nod to Jim Steinman and Bonnie Tyler, and definitely NOT referring to Kiyomi. ;)

The same old warning: Spoilers abound, including spoilers for chapters beyond this one. I highly recommend actually reading the book first, and then starting with the annotation for Chapter 1.

OK with spoilers? Then read on!

So, this chapter... another one of those “if I had it to do over” ones! Not really because I don’t like what happens, but I was just trying so, so hard to make Teru allosexual and... I don’t honestly know how to write that, I’m sorry. “Demi” is the label I usually feel most comfortable using, but “demi/grey” might be closer... I just SO RARELY feel sexual attraction, and it’s always for someone I already have a romantic connection with, so I just didn’t have ANY idea how to write the sexual attraction that I tried to write in this chapter.

I can’t really blame my past self, because I hadn’t quite figured out that part of my identity yet, but there is definitely some awkward stuff here.

Teru meets Kiyomi in front of Alta, which is a real store in front of Shinjuku Station, and a well-known meeting place. I kind of like the setting details... it’s summer, so the store is selling yukata and sensu (folding fans) for summer festivals, and there are people from all kinds of subcultures... just some fun scene-setting.

It’s mentioned that the money for this date comes out of Teru’s “emergency fund”, which is a sad little nod to something that I used to do and that my friends in this subculture used to do. We’d set aside a little money for “emergencies” when we could, but then the “emergency” would end up being a date, or a bag or an article of clothing we couldn’t live without. We would’ve been screwed if an actual emergency had occurred. Like most of Teru’s life, please don’t try this at home!

So he takes Kiyomi to this fancy restaurant where they take live fish out of the tank and turn them into very, very fresh sashimi. The restaurant itself isn’t based on any one specific real place, but there are definitely plenty of places like it.

And they drink too much, and Kiyomi talks, a lot, about things that she remembers fondly from high school. Teru is less interested, I think, and this probably the main reason why their relationship just doesn’t work. She remembers him as Masato from high school (although in this scene she is making an effort to call him Teru, she slips up again in later scenes), and from his point of view, that was never really who he was. He’s still not really living as his FULL authentic self just because he hasn’t figured things out yet, but Teru is finally getting to live the life he wants in a lot of ways, and I think the person Kiyomi thinks she’s falling for just doesn’t really exist.

But he’s still TRYING to have feelings beyond friendship for her, because he thinks he SHOULD. She’s pretty, she’s into him... there must be something wrong with him if he DOESN’T like her, right? But as he’s looking at her and trying to feel attracted to her, his mind keeps coming back to Rei. He remembers being a teenager and buying an erotic magazine, trying, again, to be attracted to girls because he thought he SHOULD be... this is definitely sort of coming from personal experience, not really of men vs. women, but just feeling like I SHOULD enjoy reading or writing or watching sex scenes, and... I really don’t. And I think Teru is realizing here that he just isn’t attracted to Kiyomi in that way. He doesn’t want to sleep with her, and they’ve both had a lot to drink, so they decide to go home at this point.

But Teru can’t stop thinking about Rei. And he’s drunk, and when people get drunk they do things that they secretly want to do, but don’t have the courage to do sober, and in this case that means calling Rei and inviting himself over. And this is where Teru first puts two and two together: That Rei hasn’t spoken to him and has seemed to be angry with him since he made this date, and he starts to think, or at least to hope, that maybe Rei was angry about the date because he likes Teru, too.

A lot of this chapter is just kind of nostalgia and scene setting. I do think it’s necessary, because we have to see how trying to date Kiyomi sort of helps Teru realise his feelings for Rei, and some of the conflict over coming to terms with his sexuality, period. But it’s not a super deep chapter.

And I apologize again for the awkward sexual imagery. I was trying to make Teru allosexual, and I just don’t really know how to write that. And a lot of readers were like “Wait how can they like sleep in the same bed for MONTHS and not have sex?” later... so Teru and Rei are probably both on the ace spectrum anyway and I wish I had understood that about myself so I could’ve owned it in my characters.

But I also think queer/questioning rep is important because a lot of use HAVEN’T figured our shit out at 21. A lot of people ask me if Teru is gay or bi/pan, too, and all I can say to that is... he loves Rei (I mean, not at this point, love is definitely too strong a word for chapter 8). If he’d met a woman he clicked with in the same way, would he love her in the same way? Maybe. But I think “queer” is probably the best way to describe him.

#the stars may rise and fall #annotated #lgbtq #writing process #author note #queer fiction

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musekicker · 1 year

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Single dad Buster au drabble, on the subject of Bryce needing bright colored clothing in the snow.

That time of year and the snow was coming down in giant flakes. And at the quick pace it was falling it was building up on the ground a good amount in a short time.

Bryce of course wanted to play in the snow with the other kids.

However the fact that his sons fur was all white presented a bit of a challenge when in the snow. He would just about disappear in the snow if it was snowing hard enough. And though Buster had never lost his kid in the snow, he feared that day would come if he did not do something about the situation.

This was why Buster always bought Bryce the brightest colored winter clothes that were available and in his size.

And this was still the case this day when Bryce's old jacket had ended up getting it's zipper broken. Which of course meant time to get a new jacket.

Bryce now was at the age where he could make judgements on how clothes looked. Given the look on his face this new jacket did not meet his standards of fashion. Not that a eight year old's idea of fashion was always great. Buster didn't blame Bryce for disliking this coat though. Even Buster was having a hard time putting a nice spin on the look of it.

"Aww, do I have to wear that coat? It's such a ugly color." Bryce said.

"It's not ugly it's... a different use of a neon color that aren't normally used on jackets." Buster said.

The jacket in question was a unappealing shade of neon green with stripes of bright pink on the arms. Just looking at it made Buster's eyes hurt a bit. Bryce himself was refusing to look at the thing more then he had to as well. Instead he focused on Buster and glared.

"Dad... just say it's ugly. I know it is and I know you know it is." Bryce said. "Also please don't buy that."

Buster didn't budge on the ugly label issue. Just as he was not budging on the idea of buying the coat.

"If I let you out into the snow without bright colored winter clothes, you'll either get hit by a car or you'll be lost to the snow and I'll never see you again." Buster told Bryce.

"You're being a bit dramatic." Bryce said.

"I work in the theater son. Of course I am dramatic." Buster said.

Bryce had to give his dad that. Still he did not back down on the issue.

"If you let me outside in the ugliest coat in the world the other kids at school will laugh at me until I die!" Bryce cried.

"Now whose being dramatic?" Buster asked.

Buster folded the coat over his arm and moved towards the check out counter.

Bryce could see that yes, this coat was going to be in his future like it or not.

"Did you find anything you liked?" the ox cashier asked.

"No." Bryce mumbled.

The cashier over the years had seen their share of kids that were pouting or had temper tantrums. That was just a thing that happened when shopping with kids. More so something as boring to most kids as clothes shopping. The cashier was attempting to move on when they saw the coat.

"Oh that is... a interesting coat." the cashier said.

Bryce looked to his dad at those words.

"See? Even the cashier, whose job is to sell the thing is sad for me and doesn't want to sell it to us." Bryce said.

"Now I never said I didn't want to sell it-" the cashier said.

Bryce pointed to the cashier.

"Aha! So you admit that you are sad for me because of this ugly, ugly coat!" Bryce cried.

The cashier was silent, taking a moment to try and come up with a diplomatic reply that a child would buy. Buster noticed a line was starting to form behind him and Bryce. He could feel the impatience and judgement from where he stood.

"Could you give me and my son a quick moment?" Buster asked the cashier.

The cashier nodded and took Bryce aside of the line that moved up as soon as Buster and Bryce stepped out of it.

"Ok look, I'm really, really sorry that you hate the jacket." Buster said. "But it's the brightest thing in your size. And we need to get you a new winter coat now."

Bryce huffed and crossed his arms, looking very sullen. Buster sighed.

"Tell you what. I buy this jacket and I'll keep a eye out for a nicer looking jacket in your size. You'll just have to deal with this one until I can get you a um.." Buster said.

"Come on, call it what it is." Bryce said.

Buster sighed again.

"Okay. It's a ugly coat. But I will get you a less ugly coat later I promise." Buster said.

Bryce frowned, still unsure of agreeing to a smooth purchase of the ugliest coat in the world. He thought a second.

"Add in getting a snack at the pastry store." Bryce said.

Buster was not beyond bribes to get Bryce to do something like his homework, time to time. And it was near lunch time. Getting something to eat wouldn't be a bad idea.

"Okay. Future better coat and a snack at the pastry store today." Buster said.

"Deal!" Bryce said.

The promise of snacks in the near future had put Bryce in a better mood. Though that mood was somewhat dampened when he did have to actually wear the coat after it's purchase.

#sing movie #sing oc

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hereforhalstead · 3 years

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Period Pains

*Gif not mine, credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader.

• Requested: Nope! Just fancied some soft!Jay

• Warnings: pure fluff besties

• Summary: Jay looks after you as you experience a rough period, unlike anything you’ve felt before.

• Words: 2482.

• A/N : When I tell you this is the ugliest thing I’ve ever written lmao. I’m so weak for soft!Jay at the moment and had just came on my period when i started this a few weeks ago.. I have a few ongoing requests at the moment that I’m working on, promise I’m not ignoring them but I just don’t want to post them until I’m happy with them!

Hope you enjoy!

You notice the bed beside you dip with Jay’s weight as he joins you, fresh from the shower as you feel the heat radiating from him. You attempt to shift and face him, craving the feeling of having your head against his chest with the rhythm of his heartbeat soothing you to sleep. You wince as a cramp hits your stomach, slinging your arm across your stomach as a natural reflex for when the wave of pain arises.

Jay places a hand on the edge of your shoulder, gripping round your skin as he moves your hair to one side to place a delicate kiss to the exposed shoulder blade “Stay facing that way, I’ll be able to rub your stomach” he whispers into the nape of your neck and causing a shiver to run down your spine at the softness of his words.

You happily do as you’re told, still in somewhat of a half consciousness as you doze in and out of sleep with the thought of knowing he was there beside you helping the pain drift away.

“Life your hips for me baby” he softly demands, encouraging you to lift your side for just a few seconds to allow him to slip his arm under you to rest a hand on your stomach “You’re burning up” he tuts, removing the hot water bottle you had pressed against you and placing it on the the other side of the bed “Don’t want you getting too warm, you’ll make yourself ill”.

His firm tone made your heart flutter, he always had your best interests at heart and made the smallest of actions seem natural to him. You’d happily let yourself curl up under a blanket with a hot water bottle until you were burning hot but it would always leave you feeling faint and you’d end up cooling off in a cold bath or shower which really defeated the object..

You laid in a comfortable silence with Jay, cursing under your breath as another wave of pain hit "Why am I a girl” you mocked, digging your head further into your pillow as some form of distraction. Jay would take it in his stride, dropping a kiss to your back and chuckling as you swear under your breath to take your mind off the intense cramps.

The motion of Jay rubbing his hand softly over your stomach didn’t stop, you expected it to after a while but it never did. He was constantly tracing shapes across your skin, running his fingernails back and forth under your shirt and laughing as you occasionally flinched if it tickled. Whether it was a placebo affect or not, the cramps would ease under his touch and helped you get a brief moment of sleep.

You awoke just under an hour later to an empty bed, turning over to see the covers thrown back and Jay’s side of the bed vacant made your heart sink. He was the one helping you through this and even though the painkillers had kicked in, you still missed him just being beside you.

You would often be the first one up in the mornings, heading to the gym before work or just wanting to be awake to make him a morning coffee meant you weren’t used to being in bed alone. He was always there with you, even when you teased him for how long the pair of you would spend in bed on your days off, you loved it and wouldn’t want it any other way.

In replacement of Jay’s hand, you must’ve reached for the hot water bottle in your sleep and that was a mistake. You were now sweating, the clothes clinging to your skin as it glistens with sweat, feeling clamy and gross wasn’t what you needed right now.

Trudging over to the bathroom and catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror was an instant regret, you were hunched to try and relieve the cramps, hair disheveled and your body was covered in red blotches from the hot water bottle. If you didn’t feel horrendous before, you did now.

You always worried in your relationship that you weren’t good enough for Jay, he woke up and looked perfect, would finish an intense workout and look like a sports model or even concentrating on some paperwork he would look flawless and here you were looking the complete opposite.

You let out a deep sigh, running your fingers through your hair in some attempt to regain a sense of decency but there was no point. Your feelings were being intensified from your period and leaving you feeling worse than ever, wanting to curl up in bed and cry was seeming most appealing but before you can enjoy a good ole pity cry you hear the keys turning in the lock.

Quickly wiping the tears from your face and using Jay’s tshirt that you were currently wearing to try and remove the stains from your cheek was useless, you panicked. Jay seemed to have unnatural ability to tell when you’re not feeling yourself, and this is no exception. Just from taking one look at you he’d be able to tell you were upset and you didn’t want that to be the case, you’d already had a pity day and the last thing he needed was to see you were feeling worse.

You chugged some water that he had left on the side and took another glance at yourself in the mirror, the red blotches had made their way to your neck so were now much more visible and your normal cheery smile was no where to be seen.

“Baby?” you hear Jay call out, rustling around with some bags in the kitchen before making his way over to the room you shared. You were sat on the edge of the bed with your arms folded across your stomach, leant forward in pain as you rested your head on your knees.

His heart pulled at the sight, you were in pain and there was nothing he could do about it. He prided himself on always doing whatever he could to help you in any given situation and not being able to take away the hurt was killing him. He’d helped you through many periods in the past but this was the worst one by far, you’d be able to take some paracetamol and carry on but this was defeating you.

You barely had a chance to respond before you heard the footsteps getting louder as he made his way towards you, letting out a deep sigh as he sees you scrunched over in pain. The noise of bags rustling comes to a stop as he crouches down in front of you, resting his hand on the back of your neck and the other on your knee to hold himself steady as he balances.

“What happened baby?” his smooth voice was music to your ears, he didn’t even have to do anything and he was already soothing you more than you ever could. You sniffed before bringing your attention onto him, watching as his eyes soften when he see’s the redness in your cheeks and the hurt in your gaze.

“Nothing” you lie through your teeth, already knowing he won’t fall for it but thinking it was worth a shot. Instead of giving you the normal ‘are you forgetting how well I know you?’ speech, he simply tilted his head to the side and lifted his hand to rest on the side of your face with a doting look “We’ll talk about it later”.

You were grateful for how well he knew you, knowing not to push you and that you weren’t in the mood to be interviewed like a suspect. Normally you loved it, thinking it was cute how he always craved to prove how well he knew you and could tell you were off just by a simple look but in doing this he knew best to leave it until you were ready.

“Did you have to go back to work?” you question, still absentmindidly leaning into Jay’s touch as he gently moves his thumb back and forth to caress your cheekbone. A simple shake of his head made you smile, you were secretly hoping you’d have him to yourself so when you awoke to the empty bed you just assumed he’d been called in.

You couldn’t hide the frown that formed as he removed his hand and stood in front of you, reaching for something on the bed as you stayed hunched over below him. “I got your favourite ice cream” he comments, holding the tub out to you with a grin spreading on his face as your eyes light up “I thought they stopped selling it?” you questioned, already peeling off the plastic from the lid.

“They did in our local, I asked around and drove to the only place they said still sells it” the pride in his voice was unlike anything you’d heard before as he carried on rummaging around the bag before pulling out 3 more tubs “Didn’t know how many you wanted so I stocked up” he chuckled, placing the tubs back into the bag and watching as you nibble round the edge of the container, too impatient to wait for a spoon.

“You don’t want these then?” you looked round to see him holding a family size bag of crisps, a handful of candy bars and even a box of your favourite instant hot chocolate that you used to have as a child. “How did you know” you probe, reaching for the box and examining the text.

Struggling to remember the last time you saw the packaging in a shop, let alone holding it in your hands. The box feeling so much smaller than it used to from when you were young, bounding to the cashier with 5 or 6 boxes to buy with your pocket money.

“On our first date we passed a shop that sold them and I’ll never forget the look on your face. You told me how your mum would always make you one if you were having a bad day and they’d always make you feel better” he smiled and could feel the tears brimming in your eyes.

You and Jay had been together nearly 8 months and he still remembered the tinist detail from your first date, something you had even forgotten about. A little remark you made as you passed the shop on the way back to the car park, not thinking much of it as who would remember about a box of instant hot chocolate that probably didn’t even taste good? Jay did.

“Get into bed and I’ll get some bowls for these” he collects the items and puts them back into the bag, his tone still gentle despite the excitement you knew he had inside from presenting you with everything you needed without being asked.

You shook your head, standing to wrap your arms around his torso. Nestling your head into his chest as you feel it vibrate from a silent laugh “I told you to get into bed baby” you felt the shivers run down your spine as he rested his hand on the back of your head, allowing his hand to roam up and down your back in a soft motion.

“What did I do to deserve you” you mumble into his chest, feeling him rest his head on top of yours as his hand settled on your lower back to push you further into him “So I did good?” you could practically hear the smirk on his lips, pulling back to examine the glowing grin peering back at you as his eyes glistened.

You reached to place a light kiss to his lips, a soft kiss that told him everything he needed to know “Are you gonna make me tell you to get into bed again?” he joked, tapping your back to retract yourself from him. Begrugingly you did so, already feeling the slight cold from the lack of contact you now craved from him.

Picking the bags up from the bed to pull back the blanket, you felt the weight of something still in the bottom. You opened the carriers to see what must’ve been atleast 5 boxes of different sanitary products rolling around in the bags “What’s this?” you asked, confused as to why he went out of his way to buy you the snacks but you never would’ve expected him to know what products to buy you, or atleast try and guess as you always joked about how little men knew about the whole thing.

“I didn’t know if you needed any” his voice was timid, reaching to rub the back of his neck with his hand which was a sign of nervousness you’d picked up on over the past few months . “Jay, how much do you think I bleed?” you were grateful to see the corners of his lips lift in a smile “Well, I realised I’ve never bought you any so I wanted to get a few so I had more of a chance of getting the right ones” he admitted, your hands falling to your sides as you allowed the bag to drop to the floor.

Your feet were bounding over to him before you could even think, all you wanted to do was throw your arms around him as you had no words for everything he had done. “I can’t believe how much I love you” your voice slightly cracked as you felt the lump rise to your throat, as much as Jay loved to care for you, you never would've expected this.

“I’m sorry I can’t take the pain away” you felt him plant a kiss to the top of your head, another one of his small guestures that made you week at the knees without him even knowing. “You’ve helped more than you’ll ever know” you smiled into him, cringing at your cheesy confession but knowing he loves to hear these things from you, adding to his ego of how well he looks after you.

You both stood in a comfortable silence, basking in each other presence with the simplicity of the background noises coming from the streets below. From someone looking on, the way you were standing probably didn’t look very comfortable. The way you were entangled together, your arms hanging from his neck as his moved around your body to press his fingertips in the various parts he knew you were probably feeling pain. When Jay finally breaks the silence, he mutters the words that at the moment sounded better than ‘i love you’ when they fell from his lips “Do you want some ice cream, baby?”

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myherowritings · 3 years

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of gold stars and lotus crisps

SUMMARY. You didn’t always get along with your roommate. But with his disarming charm and genuine kindness, you soon found yourself taking a liking to Zhongli and all the little gifts he got for you.

PAIRING. zhongli x reader

WORD COUNT. 3.0k

GENRE. roommate au, modern au, fluff

A/N. i’m in love with zhongli, did u know? 😳 anyway i think i had way too much fun writing this ahdjksd so pls enjoy 🥺💓 xx sof

Your roommate wasn’t particularly airheaded, you wouldn’t say. But he did seem to either forget or not care for the mundane, everyday things in life.

Mundane, everyday things such as closing the door as he entered, turning the faucet off after washing dishes, bringing his wallet with him when he went shopping, eating enough meals throughout the day needed to properly sustain his health...

Honestly, you had to wonder how on earth he’s kept himself alive all these years. It wouldn’t surprise you if he was pampered and spoiled rotten all his life. (Though, after getting to know him, you started to realize he did nothing out of malintent and he wasn’t actually a spoiled brat.)

Still, it was annoying at first—you couldn’t lie.

Those weren’t characteristics you wanted in a roommate, but with how high rent was these days, it wasn’t like you had much of a choice. You’d rather split rent with someone who seemed fairly harmless, albeit a bit of a handful, than go house-hunting all over again.

In the beginning, it was a chore. Constantly closing the door after him or reminding him to lock it himself, paying attention to the running water in case he left the faucet open and accidentally flooded the place, cooking extra for breakfast so he could have something to eat instead of just skipping the meal— It was a lot to deal with at first.

But he was receptive to communication. After you sat down with him one night and genuinely told him about the things that bothered you, Zhongli tried to be more mindful of his surroundings and checked the sink before leaving the kitchen. He brought his keys with him and closed the door. And he even remembered to bring his wallet whenever the two of you went out to eat together! That was a feat in itself, you had to say.

One thing he never quite got the hang of, however, was not skipping meals due to sheer forgetfulness.

“Did you eat breakfast yet?” you would ask.

He would pause, putting his book or whatever else was capturing his attention at the time down. “Breakfast… I’m afraid I can’t remember if it was yesterday or the day before when I last ate it.”

And that simply wouldn’t do.

You found yourself waking up a little earlier before Zhongli had to go to work and cooking a little more than usual in order to ensure he had something to eat. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, after all! You couldn’t just let your roommate (and friend) miss the best meal.

It became more and more frequent for the two of you to eat breakfast together to start your day, bonding as you passed a pitcher of orange juice and shared smiles as the sun shined through the glass windows.

Mornings became a million times more pleasant with him around.

And it wasn’t as if your friendship was purely one-sided, with you giving more than you were getting. In his own ways, Zhongli would express his gratitude and liking towards you.

Most days, he’d come home from work or from hanging out with his friends with a gift in his hands. Whether it be a shiny figurine from an anime you liked or an obscure snow globe with indecipherable writings on it, he would offer it to you with a wide-eyed look on his face, as if he was deliberately gauging your reaction.

“Y/N, would you care for this gift? It reminded me of you and I thought you would like it.”

Or—

“You said you were a fan of this show, correct? I’m not sure who the character on this sweatshirt is, but it seems to suit you.”

Soon, you found all of Zhongli’s gifts to you taking up a whole corner in your room, from the clothes in the dresser to the trinkets resting on the shelves atop. You couldn’t help but smile fondly whenever you glanced at it.

The routine became second nature, with you cooking meals for him and eating breakfast and sometimes even dinner together, him giving you random gifts and treating you out (when he remembered to bring his wallet, of course). The two of you seemed to settle into a nice, content rhythm. That was, until the past few days when you started feeling an odd flutter in your stomach and an unfamiliar race of your heart in Zhongli’s presence.

You didn’t sense those physiological changes when you were around him before… Why was it happening now?

After hours of thinking, you came to the conclusion that these symptoms could only be one of two things: Either you randomly caught the case of a stomach bug, or you developed a crush on your roommate.

You couldn’t say which would be worse.

And to add insult to injury, you were having this sudden revelation only minutes before Zhongli’s arrival back home. He was out for the weekend and would be here for dinnertime.

You decided to make a meal of Bamboo Shoot Soup with Lotus Flower Crisps for dessert— Something a little fancier than usual and something you knew he liked, and for some reason, you felt nervous at the thought of him tasting your cooking this time. It was often the case you cooked for yourself and made enough for him to have some servings, but today, you wanted to make things he enjoyed in hopes of having him be pleased by the effort you put in.

Sure, he would’ve appreciated a sloppily put together Adventurer’s Breakfast Sandwich, but an annoying part of you couldn’t help but seek praise from your crush for a dish you put your heart into.

Soon enough, you heard the familiar jingling of keys and unlocking of the door as Zhongli stepped inside, slipping his shoes off and removing his overcoat. From the corner of your eye, you saw him pull out a small box from the inner pocket of his coat and slip it into the pocket of his slacks.

“Hi, Zhongli! Welcome home,” you greeted from the kitchen as you shut the stove off. “You came just in time for me to finish making dinner.”

Home. Was calling your shared space ‘home’ strange? It seemed oddly domestic and you felt your heartbeat pick up speed. It felt right to call it home, and that made you nervous.

“It smells delectable,” said Zhongli with a smile, rolling his sleeves up his forearms before he washed his hands in the sink. While he dried off, he watched as you scooped the contents of the pot into two bowls. “The bamboo looks perfectly cooked and the pork seems tender and succulent. It’s lovely; thank you for taking the time to cook it, Y/N.”

You felt heat flood your cheeks at his flood of praises, puffing your chest up ever so slightly. “Well, maybe you should taste it first before you shower me in compliments— What if it’s not as good as it looks?”

“Having knowledge of your culinary skills from past experiences, I believe it’s unlikely for this meal to be anything less than delicious.” He helped you carry the bowls and utensils to the dining room table, sitting down in front of you with a fond look on his face.“After all, you made it.”

Stuffing your mouth full of bamboo shoots to prevent a dopey look from spreading and inevitably outing your newfound crush on him, you mumbled a quick, “Thanks.”

He nodded, promptly settling into a comfortable silence as he enjoyed every bite of the soup. Like usual, the meal was on the quieter side, save for his occasional compliments and hums of satisfaction as he ate your cooking.

“Somehow, you manage to outdo yourself each time,” he commended as he finished his bowl, carefully folding his napkin in a neat square after dabbing it across his mouth. “Thank you for the meal and company, Y/N.”

“Of course. I always enjoy having dinner with you.”

“Maybe tomorrow, you would allow me to take you out for dinner at Xinyue Kiosk? You recently expressed an interest in having Yue cuisine so I managed to talk to the owner and secure a reservation.”

Your eyes widened. Xinyue Kiosk was known for having a waitlist that was over three-months long— Travellers from overseas waited years just to get a taste of their Fullmoon Egg and Golden Crab.

Just a few days ago, you told Zhongli you were craving some Crystal Shrimp from the restaurant and, while he wasn’t fond of seafood, he promised he’d take you to get some soon. Now, you knew he had some pretty powerful connections through his line of work, but you didn’t know it was strong enough to wiggle his way past a three-month waitlist.

Did he sell his left kidney for a spot? you wondered, only half-joking.

“Xinyue Kiosk? Tomorrow?” you repeated, wanting to make sure your ears weren’t deceiving you.

“Yes, tomorrow.” He hesitated, an unfamiliar flash of uncertainty crossing his features. “Unless, of course, you are unable to accompany me or do not wish to do so— I apologize if I have made any rash assumptions—”

“No, no! That’s not it at all! I’d love to go with you! I was just surprised you got a reservation on such short notice,” you said hurriedly, shaking your head. “But maybe I shouldn’t be too shocked; you are amazing after all.”

“You flatter me. I simply called in on a favor once I found out you wanted to dine on some Yue cuisine,” he brushed off nonchalantly. “It’s the least I could do for you.”

“The least you could do for me is take me on a fancy date to the most exclusive restaurant in Liyue Harbor, hmm?” you teased. “Is this a grand gesture of your affection towards me?”

“Yes.”

His answer was so straightforward and brief, you almost didn’t catch it. “P-pardon?”

Zhongli smiled but didn’t say a word in response.

Was he just joking around and teasing you back? Your stomach churned in excitement but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. You tried to shake off your nerves.

There was a beat of silence.

“I made some Lotus Flower Crisps for us—!” “Would you care for a gift I got you—?”

The two of you blurted out your sentences at the same time, trying to patch the lapse of quiet from settling in.

“Apologies,” said Zhongli, tilting his head to the side. “What were you saying again?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine! You can go first!”

He studied you closely but eventually relented. “If you’re sure.” Zhongli stood up to gingerly pull a mint-colored box out of his pocket, walking around the table until he was next to you. “I was only saying I stopped by the jewelers on the way home from work and picked this up for you.”

A silly smile spread across your face as you accepted the box into your hands. The jewelry box itself felt durable and luxe, and you opened it up to see cushions of velvet holding a delicate-looking necklace in place. The chain was gold and shiny and there was a small star pendant in the center.

“Stars are bright and brilliant and never fail to light up the darkness. Such a necklace seemed only fitting for the likes of you.”

Your stomach felt like dolphins were flipping and doing tricks inside. Comparing someone to a star didn’t seem like a ‘just roommates’ thing to do, but you’d rather not assume anything only to be let down. So instead, you just grinned. “It’s beautiful— I love it so much, Zhongli! Thank you.”

“I’m glad it’s to your liking. Do you need any assistance putting it on?”

“I’d appreciate that very much,” you said with a nod, watching as his nimble fingers removed the chain from the velvet cushion and gently draped it around you.

The cool metal brushed against your warm skin, startling you enough that you almost jumped up in your seat. But that feeling of shock didn’t compare to the sparks that came when Zhongli rested his palm against the nape of your neck, taking his time to secure the gold clasp.

“It’s 24 karat gold which means the pendant, though small, may be more malleable than jewelry made of alloyed gold. If you wish to engage in more strenuous physical activities it may be best to take it off then to keep the piece in best condition. Only if that’s to your interest, of course. It’s yours and you may do with it whatever you please.” He removed his fingers from the back of your neck and you felt disappointed at the loss of warmth. “All that to say… I hope you like it.”

Zhongli seemed to have a shy look on his face, a stark contrast from his usually confident and self-assured features. As if he didn’t look cute enough already, you internally swooned.

“Are you kidding? I love it!” You threw your arms over his shoulders, overjoyed at your new gift. A pure, 24 karat gold piece wasn’t something that sounded inexpensive, and you’d be sure to treasure it for as long as you could. “Thank you so, so much, Zhongli.”

“You’re more than welcome.” He looked happy that you were happy, smiling as he admired the delicate chain of jewelry around your neck. “It looks stunning on you.”

You glowed at his flattery, but attempted to play it off with a small shrug. “Only because you have good taste.”

“What use is good taste if not to complement the recipient of the present?” said Zhongli, taking a seat back down on the chair across from you. “Now, what were you saying earlier?”

There was a moment of confusion before you remembered the dessert you made for him cooling on the counter.

“Oh, right!” You stood up in excitement, bouncing over to the kitchen to pull out a tray of Lotus Flower Crisps. “I made these for you,” you said nervously, placing the sweets in the center of the dining table. “It’s probably not as good of a gift as the necklace you got but—”

“It’s better,” he said with certainty.

You blinked. “Better?”

“Yes. After all, you made it.” His voice was confident and his smile was firm as he looked fondly at you. “A gift that requires time and effort to create is the best one a person could receive.” He admired the blooming fried pastry, gently touching the part that was meant to resemble a petal. “Maybe I can make you a gift instead of buying it one day as well.”

“I’d appreciate anything from you,” you said plainly. “If you came home with a half-off candybar, I’d love it nonetheless.”

Zhongli chuckled, taking a bite of a Lotus Flower Crisp. “You’re very generous. That’s just one thing I like about you.”

You grew bashful. Just one? Then what were the other things?

“This tastes absolutely delicious, by the way,” he said, the last piece of his pastry disappearing between his lips, the pink tip of his tongue poking out to sweep a loose crumb off the corner of his mouth. “Thank you for making this, Y/N.”

Forcibly tearing your gaze away from his lips, you took a drink of water to clear your dry throat. “You’re welcome. I’m happy you think so. I was worried the taste wouldn’t be to your liking.”

“No need to worry then, I trust in your culinary skills completely.”

You shared a smile as you ate the pastry in contentment. The sweet crispness of the pink flower felt light in your stomach, the perfect dessert to complement the mood.

Once the two of you were stuffed full, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to your conversation at the beginning of the night.

“So…” you trailed off, promptly gathering Zhongli’s full attention. “Earlier, when I asked if dinner at Xinyue Kiosk would be a date and a way for you to show your affection and you said yes… You weren’t joking around?”

“I wouldn’t jest about such a thing,” he stated. “Besides, I was talking to Aether about you and he said we were practically dating already. I wasn’t too sure what he meant at first, but apparently it’s not commonplace for roommates to give each other gifts and spend meals together like this.”

You flushed, having the decency to look sheepish. “Well, I guess he’s right about that. Not that it really matters what’s common or not as long as we both enjoy it,” you said assuredly despite your fluttering heart. You found your hand gravitating towards the small star pendant around your neck. You held it between your thumb and forefinger, finding both comfort and courage in the smooth metal. “Still… I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of dating.”

He smiled when he noticed you holding onto the gift he got for you. “I agree. With you as a partner, the prospect of dating doesn’t sound particularly tedious. Perhaps a nice dinner out would be a good starting point into something more… Official, I believe is the word Aether used?”

Official. You quite liked the sound of that. “I’d love that. A real, official date sounds nice,” you said with a grin, removing your hands from your necklace only to place it over his, clasping them gently. “Anything to spend more time with you.”

Zhongli gave you a gentle squeeze back. “It’s a date then. And I’m rather looking forward to it.”

Fondly, you wondered how your roommate who you once could barely even stand turned into someone so important to you. You went from two objects repelling each other in space, to a binary star system, gravitational bound together.

“I’m looking forward to it too.”

#genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #genshin zhongli #genshin impact fluff #zhongli fluff #zhongli x you #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact scenarios #genshin fanfiction

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lesbianakaashi · 3 years

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The Forgotten Shounen: Katekyo Hitman Reborn

This is not a “Why you should watch/read khr” or anything like that. This is just me going into the deep dive and throwing my findings at you. I’m making this because khr used to be my favourite series when I was 15 (I had plushees, posters, tradingcards, the art book etc) and now as an adult I constantly find myself baffled at how unknow it seems to be.

1. Okay first what is khr?

Katekyo Hitman Reborn! or just Reborn! is a series by Akira Amano which was published in Weekly Shounen Jump from 2004 to 2012 (with 42 volumes) and got an anime adaption which run from 2006 to 2010 on Tv Tokyo (with 202 episodes and one OVA).

2. What’s it about?

Khr is a parody of the italian mafia and plays in a world where the mafia is heavily influencial. The protagonist is the japanese middle schooler Sawada Tsunayoshi who is known as “No good Tsuna” because of his failing grades, general weak and cowardly personality and weak physics.

He becomes aware of the mafia world when a 2 year old baby called Reborn arrives at his house claiming to be the greatest hitman and declaring himself his home tutor. Reborn was send by the 9th head of the Vongola famiglia who is ready to retire and looking for a new heir. Which of course, is supposed to be Tsuna and now it's Reborns job to shape him into a worthy sucessor.

Tsuna rejects the violence of the mafia world and refuses the position as the 10th. Thanks to Reborn and his general craziness Tsuna meets different people and starts to make real friendships. Reborn wants 6 of those friends to be Tsuna's future guardians, basically a group of people which will be closest to him in the vongola famiglia. Tsuna might have no interest in those positions but the friendships he builds with them become really precious to him.

Reborns arrivial also brings in the enemies of the Vongola family which leads to Tsuna being forced to engage in battles. Generally Tsuna openly avoids fights and prefers to run away but will put himself in danger for his friends' sake or because of something Reborn did.

Through out the series Tsuna matures and gains strenght but he never becomes a power fantasy. He's just a guy with many flaws who grows through the human connections he makes.

Personally I think the relationship between Reborn and Tsuna is one of the best student teacher reltaionships in all of manga only topped by Mob and Reigen from Mob Psycho 100. Especially the last arc really underlines their unique relationship to me.

Furthermore, khr offers a new and unique battle system: The flames. I'm not gonna go into to too much detail but the general idea is that one fights with their dying will flame which basically turns off your the savety switch so you can fight with everything you have. The flames are seperated into different categories such as: sky, storm, mist, rain, sun, lightning and cloud and have different attributes asigned to each one. Tsuna's use of the sky flame and his transformation when using it is still one of my favourite shounen transformations to this day.

3. What happened?

The series did really well and then not so well over the course of its serialisation. After the manga got an anime adaption it increased in populairty and video games, light novels, and other products such as CDs were created based on the series. Reborn is one of the best selling series of Weekly Shōnen Jump and has sold around 30 Million volumes overall. It was and still is very popular in Japan but rather unknown in the west.

According to the article "The Rise and Fall of Weekly Shonen Jump: A Look at the Circulation of Weekly Jump" khr was the 10th bestselling series in Weekly Shōnen Jump, with a total of 7 million copies sold in 2007.

This number increasing to 15 milion in 2008. Which placed khr into the 4th best selling series of 2008 in Japan.

Between 2008 and 2010 those sales declined but still kept strong with khr as the 6th top selling manga in 2009, 8th best selling in 2010 and then 24th best selling in 2012.

In November 2014, readers of the Da Vinci magazine voted khr number 17 on a list of Weekly Shōnen Jump's greatest manga series of all time.

After the anime came to an apprupt stop in 2010 for unknown reasons the manga sells took a visible hit. (Apparently the studio wanted to put the anime on halt because they were busy with other projects and give Akira Amano time to develop her story but I couldn't find any source for this claim) Furthermore, the rushed last chapters of the manga in 2012 declined the popularity of the series even more. There's no offical statement as to why the manga was ended in such a way but it's reasonable to assume that Jump either cut it considering the decreasing sales or Akira Amano choose to end it for personal reasons.

Nontheless, Tsuna not being included in Jump Force (a fighting game where you can play as different characters from Jump) in 2019 even tho he made it in earlier Jump Stars games also underlines the decreased interest in the series.

Rumors on a reboot or anime adaption of the last two arcs surface from time to time but are genereally unlikely. Artland the studio which made khr has gone bankrupt around 2015-2016. It might be taken on by another studio but rather uncommen especially with such an old series.

4. Art style

The khr anime ended over 10 years ago and the old art style might not be appealing to newer audiences.

Especailly because the anime adaption follows Akira Amanos old art style which heavily developed within the years. Here a picture comparing characters in the new art style:

A modern anime adaption in the new art style would be aesthetically pleasing. It would probably look similiar to Psycho Pass since Akira Amano did the concept art for this series.

(My personal art student hot take is that both art styles are unique and fun. Up to this day Akira Amano still has my favourite art style and even if the amount folds in the characters clothing is a little extreme I love it dearly.)

5. Criticism

The show is not without flaws and even if I greatly enjoy it it wouldn't be right not to adress them.

Daily Life Arc:

A lot of people view the first 20 to 25 episodes as fillers and quickly lose intererst in the series. This is due to the fact that Akira Amano inteded the series to be a gag manga and focuses the first chapters on world building, character introduction and comical narratives. It's rumored that the decision to develop the story into a battle shounen was made because the sales weren't doing well enough at first. So the first chapters/episodes may seem titidious but are necessary for the story and the development of the characters. The tonal shift from a more gintama like gag manga to a darker battle focused story can also be offputting to some viewers.

Either way a lot of people blame this arc when discussing why khr never got an english dub or didn't end up on Toonami. I've also read that the manga never finished serializing in the north america. However, it finished in other western languages like german and spanish.

Censoring:

The anime censors A LOT. From Gokudera's smoking habit, Yamamoto's whole character arc which deals with heavy themes such as depression and suicidal thoughts. The general bloodiness of the manga was censored and sometimes whole chapters and characters were left out even if those were important to the devolopment of others.

Filler episodes:

Out of the 202 episodes the anime has around 29 filler episodes which makes roughly 14 %.

Sexism:

Even if Reborn was written by a woman most female characters are rather flat and their storylines often tied to a male character in one way or another.

Genereal things:

Khr, like many other long running series, is sometimes criticised for a lack of world building or unpopular narrative choices.

6. Hope?

Khr isn't exactly dead. As stated before the series is still very popular in Japan and still gets new merch pretty regulary. There are also petitions floating around for a reboot or a new anime season but those never get a lot of traction. Furthermore #Reborn2期アニメ化 (#Reborn2ndAnimation) used to get some traction on twitter not too long ago. Last year the Anime News Network did a poll on which anime the readers would like to see a rebooot of and khr placed second.

Either way here's a collection of recent khr things I could find.

- In 2018 a new bluray set was released in north america

- The khr stage play reached yet another new season

- A mobile game was released last year

- Currently ongoing anime cafe event called "Concerto di Vongola"

- Last month there was an event with the former VAs and stage play actors where they discussed their favourite khr episodes.

- There has been an increase in blind reacts to the openings on youtube which might bring in a new fan base. The biggest one I could find had around 90k views and was made in 2019. On this note check out the soundtrack. The first openeing Drawing Days by SPLAY still makes me go insane (but I'm biased of course)

There also renewed hope for a new season/reboot because Shaman King, Inuyasha and Bleach got anounced for new seasons after a long hiatus. It's important to keep in mind that the circumstances for those series are differnt tho. For example bleachs new anime is often tied to the immense success of the gatcha game.

7. Conclusion

Khr is a series which used to be a flagship for Weekly Shounen Jump and is deeply beloved by it's fans, especially in Japan. It influenced other shounen series like bnha. It would be nice to see it gaining a bigger fanbase in the west :)

#khr #khr meta #anime analysis #shounen jump #katekyo hitman reborn #mirytalks #long post #manga

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writings-of-a-british-fangirl · 3 years

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A Lesson In Traditions [Din Djarin x Reader]

Title: A Lesson In Traditions Summary: After the brief spark, you felt between you and Din, you are longing for it to be recreated. And, maybe a shiny trinket from Mandalorian tradition can help you with that. Warnings: None I don't think ? Request: N/A

A/N: Some of you wanted a part two to A Lesson In Mando'a so here's the follow up! I might make this a series if anyone is interested

A/N 2: I made up the idea of betrothal necklaces. I don't think these exist in Mandalorian culture, but I took inspiration from water benders in Avatar the Last Airbender, because I thought the idea was cute! So credit to that series!

PART 1: A Lesson In Mando’a PART 2: A Lesson In Traditions PART 3: A Lesson In Touch

Din Djarin~A Lesson In Traditions

It had been a while since Din had told you what cyar'ika had meant, and ever since then the two of you had been dancing around each other. Surely, he knew you liked him by now- you had tried to hint at him several times: lingering touches, longer conversations, closeness to him. And, yet the Mandalorian remained oblivious. You supposed that no matter the species or creed, men were all as dense as each other.

You huffed as you held the child on your lap.

"I don't know what I'm going to do, little one," you murmured, "I think I'm having more luck communicating with you, than I am with your dad. ...Maybe I should just give up. He has his creed to follow anyway..."

The child looked at you, his head slightly tilted. His big eyes stared up at you. Despite not saying anything at all, you knew he was understanding you. He was a pretty great listener, even if he was only a youngling.

"You know, you're right. Maybe I- maybe we just need a day out. Some fresh air. What do you think? Do you want to take a little trip? We need some more supplies anyway, I'm getting sick of rations, and I'd like some fresh food. What about you?"

The child perked up at the mention of food, and you smiled.

"I'll take that as a yes," you giggled, "Let me go speak to your daddy."

You placed the child gently down in his bed, and made your way up to the cockpit, where Din was flying the ship. Your head peeked up from the ladder, and you clambered up and stood awkwardly for a second at the back of the room. Din heard you enter, and waited for you to speak. He turned his head ever so slightly, his beskar glinting from the faint light the stars around the ship were producing.

"Hi," you murmured, wandering over to where Din was sitting, "How far away are we from the next stop?"

"About an hour," Din replied, "Why do you ask?"

You fold your hands neatly in front of you, you shift your weight slightly forward, and almost rock on the balls of your feet.

"Well, I was thinking that I- well, us... You, me and the kid could take a trip to the local market on our next stop. It's just we need more food anyways, and I'm going a bit stir crazy. It'll do us some good to get some fresh air, especially the kid. He can't spend his whole life in this ship."

Din contemplates for a second.

"I know what you're going to say- It's dangerous, we're being hunted but-"

"-I was actually going to say okay."

"Really? I mean, great. Thank you!"

Din smiles under his helmet, not that you can tell, and continues, "As you said, we need food anyway, and the next planet we're going to land on is remote enough. It's definitely not Imp friendly either."

You nod, and flash Din a smile. The tension slowly builds in the room; you can feel his eyes on you. Despite not being able to see his eyes (hell, you didn't even know what colour they were), you could sense them: trained on you. You coughed awkwardly.

"I'm going to go check on the kid. Uh- Give me a shout when we're about to land."

"I will, cyar'ika."

Your heart jumps at the nickname.

~~~

As soon as you landed, you grabbed your bag, your gun and a set of knives. Despite not technically being employed by any bounty hunting guilds right now, it never hurt to be prepared: especially when the small green creature you were travelling with had such a high price on his head. And, then you turned to Din. He was also carrying his fair share of weapons, and of course the child. He was situated in Din's bag, his cute little face peaking out over the top. You smiled at him, before beginning to walk down the ramp.

The Mandalorian made his way into the town, with you by his side, and his small son literally at his side. He didn't feel uneasy about this place- it looked relatively safe, but he was still on high alert. And, he wanted you to be as well.

Despite having only known you a couple of months, he didn't dare think about the possibility of something happening to you. He knew he had to protect the child, that was a given, but the growing affection he had for you was uncharted. As a boy, he had learned about Mandalorians caring for foundlings (just as they had done with him as a boy), but romantic relationships were something out of his reach. He knew they occurred; they had to. The Mandalorians, while being a creed of highly trained soldiers, still held family at their core. After all, how were they to make more warriors without romantic relationships. But, truthfully, they were something unfamiliar to him. It had never been possible in his life, not with the creed. With you, his thoughts had begun to wander more and more lately. About you being next to him, being his family. He knew Mandalorians were allowed to take their helmets off for family, for those in their Clan. The more time you spent with him, the more he considered you to be apart of his Clan... He shook himself slightly. 'Stop,' he thought, 'You shouldn't have this on your mind. Y/N doesn't think of you that way. They're here for the child. That's it.'

If only Din knew how far from the truth that was.

"I need you to take him," Din says to you, carefully taking the child from his bag and handing him to you, "I'm going to go into the cantina, and see if I can find me- us some work. I trust you can manage to get us some supplies?"

"You insult me, my love," you laugh, holding the child in your arms, "I am more than capable. I hope you save me at least one good bounty. I can't let you have all the fun."

"I'll keep an eye out. Meet me here in half an hour."

"Will do, my love," you smile and walk away from him.

Din was glad for the distance being put between the two of you, because he was sure if you were any closer to him, you would be able to hear his heart racing behind his beskar. 'My love,' he pondered. He quite liked the way that sounded rolling off your tongue, perhaps even more than he liked hearing you say his own name. He gave one last look over his shoulder, just to make sure you were okay, before heading into the cantina.

~~~

You'd successfully made it to the market, and had made your way around over half of the stalls, and you had basically bought all the food for you and your Mandalorian. As you continued walking through the market, most of the stalls you passed by were food, but some were trinkets, toys, and even weapons. You'd hesitated by one particular booth. They were selling crystals, luxury cloth, and jewellery. Usually, you weren't one for such fine things (in your life style, things like that would end up ruined, stolen or pawned), but you'd been drawn in by one particular necklace. The chain was made up of two types of metal from what you could tell: a shinning silver, and a deep, darker grey. Attached to the chain was an unfamiliar symbol. It curved into a symmetrical shape, one that looked like two halves of a whole.

"That's real beskar, you know," the seller assured, "It would look beautiful sitting around your neck."

The seller was an older woman. She wore blue and purple robes, dirtied only a little by the sand- no doubt from the extensive sand desert that lay just outside the town. She had a kind face, her eyes smiling up at you. You'd almost forgotten to reply.

"What do you say? Can I interest you in such a fine, unique piece?"

"Oh, I'm not sure-"

"-I'm sure your husband would like it: it would match his own armour after all," the lady added, taking the necklace off of its stand and presenting it to you.

"Oh, he's not- He's not my husband. We're just travel companions, that's all."

"Someone should tell him that. The way he looks at you... Only few people are so lucky. Looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky."

"How do you know that? His helmet-"

"-There's some things you just know with age, dearie. Love is one of them."

You were rendered speechless. Did he really look at you like that? Was is that obvious? Did his heart beat for yours the way yours beats for his? You hardly had time to process the thought of you and Din together that close, as spouses, before the seller spoke again.

"So what do you say? Can I tempt you with this necklace? I can even throw in a free toy for the little one," she smiled, cooing to the child from across the table.

You looked at the seller, and then down to him.

"What do you say, little guy? Do you want a new toy?" you murmured to him; when you saw his eyes gleam with excitement, you knew it was all over.

"I think he said yes," the merchant laughs.

"I think you're right," you reply, reaching into your bag for your purse, "I usually wouldn't spend credits on a thing like this... But, it is quite beautiful. And, you do deserve a new toy."

You handed the lady her credits, and took the necklace from her. She'd placed it into a small, black, velvet box. The box had small silver hinges and a clasp at the front. You felt a little giddy. It had been a while since you'd made such an unessential purchase, and there was a small part of you that hoped if you wore this you might get the attention of a certain masked warrior. You shook your head, granted it was a little desperate, but you figured worth a shot.

The child also received his gift too. It was a small figurine of an animal. You weren't quite sure which one, but he seemed to like it, and that was good enough for you.

You slipped the velvet box into your bag, and caught a glimpse of your watch. Fuck, you were late. You jostled the child closer to your chest and began to almost sprint back to the cantina: you did not want to have to deal with a grumpy Mandalorian, least of all if you were the cause of his grumpiness. The closer you got, the easier it was to make out his figure.

"Look, before you say anything, I'm sorry I'm late. Time must have slipped my mind, and I ran into a strange lady at one of the stalls, and she sold me this- You know what, you probably don't need to know all that. Just know we've got enough food to last us at least a month, and the child had fun."

"He has a new toy."

"I- Yeah," you replied, "Not exactly an essential, I know, but don't worry I used my credits. Besides, it'll hopefully stop him wrecking your cockpit for a toy."

Din nodded. You don't know why you expected him to say more. He wasn't a man of many words, and you were apparently no exception. You made your way back to the ship with the Mandalorian in silence. It wasn't unpleasant by any means, but also it felt like you both had lots to say: you just didn't know how to say it.

"Did you buy anything for yourself?" Din asked, looking over to you as you reached the ship.

How did he know?

Din obviously sensed your confusion.

"I- You said that a lady sold you something, that's all," Din clarified.

"Oooh, oh that," you said, looking down at your bag, "Yeah, I did. A bit of an impulse buy if I'm honest, but the lady was too nice to deny. She sold me a necklace. Maybe you can help me put it on."

Din nodded; that should be easy. It was just a necklace after all. He'd fought off enemies twice his size, survived when the odds were against him, and was one of the best bounty hunters there was... It should be easy. So why was his heart racing?

You placed the child down on the floor of the Razor Crest, and reached inside your bag for the box. Your hands traced the inside of your bag blindly, before feelings the soft touch of velvet. Carefully, you took it out of the bag, and revealed the box. Din's eyes watched with intrigue. You unfastened the clasp and opened the box. It snapped back on its hinges, and revealed the chain.

Din's eyes registered the metal before his brain could even process it: a betrothal necklace.

"The lady said it was genuine beskar, but I'm not so sure. I think it's just silver, probably some iron too- but it's pretty either way. Do you mind helping me put it on still?"

Din's mind was still racing. He'd heard about the tradition of giving a betrothal necklace from urban tales and word of mouth from other Mandalorians, but he'd never actually seen one this close. The tradition stated that the Mandalorian proposing would take part of their beskar and part of their riduur-to-be's beskar and melt them into a necklace, with the two swirling around each other before eventually combining into a symbol at the bottom. Usually it was a good luck symbol, or for fertility. Something along those lines. It felt almost surreal seeing one close up.

"Are you alright, Din?" you ask, "Is something up?"

He wasn't sure if he should mention the tradition, what the necklace meant to the Mandalorians... It was basically a dead tradition now, anyway. There was no harm in not telling you, right? After all, there were very few Mandalorians left, and even fewer that managed to have the privilege of finding a riduur: you didn't need to know..

"No, no... I'm fine," he reassures, "I- Hand me the necklace."

Din took the necklace from you and instructed you to hold your hair out of the way. You obliged, and felt him lace the necklace around your neck before fastening it in the back. There was a small pause, where the two of you just stayed there: in the moment. It took everything in you not to shiver as you felt a rush down your spine. The sensation of Din's hands on you, even just for a moment, was almost too much. You turned around to face him.

"Do you like it?" you ask, holding the pendant of your new necklace between your thumb and your index finger.

"It suits you," he affirmed, "Mesh'la."

"Thank you," you blushed, making a mental note to ask what 'Mesh'la' meant at a later date, "I- I'm going to go put the food supplies away."

Din decided against telling you about the origin of your neckalce; you looked far too radiant wearing it for him to say anything that may shift the tone. He couldn't bring himself to say anything, so he just let you walk past him. Part of him felt guilty for not saying anything, but another part of him selfishly thought it looked beautiful sat around your neck. For a moment he could almost imagine that he had given you that..

...That you were his riduur.

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thesmokingguns · 3 years

Text

Picnic in the Park

Pairing: Axl Rose x Reader

Word Count: 2128

Fluff

Request Summary: “Axl rose meets a girl threw slash who is his childhood friend whos also an amazing painter and just is infatuated with how pretty she is and he just follows her around like a puppy.Tan skin brown hair that goes to lower back brown eyes, wears alot of cute sun dresses and is very kind”

A/N: I am catching up on requests. So if you have requested anything in the past week or so thag oiece should be coming out soon. Thanks everyone for reading

Tag list: @ayablackwood @agroupiewhore @thenobodies-inc @littlemisscare-all

Your mind was a mixture of light and dark, complimentary colors, and images burned into your mind that you wanted to paint later. If there wasn’t a brush in your hand you were taking notes with a pencil, sketching the world around it through eyes that only you saw it from. You captured everyday life like the older woman with the mesh bag she had filled with fruit or the man with his red beard, a few weeks unkept, napping in the alley to get a break from the heat. You took these people, characters of the world and had them live forever on the canvas you painted on.

Art was your passion. You loved walking around Hollywood with a set of watercolors or a notebook to sketch in and take in the lives of others. There was some sort of poetic feeling of taking a stranger from the street and importilizing them as a character in your art. You created a narrative for them that they may not be living. It was cathartic and you’d spend hours of your day people watching until you finally found the right subject.

Sketching out a bump on someone's nose that might have come from a childhood accident or from their Freshman year of college when they drunkenly fell down the front steps of the dorm, you created their unknown life story as you placed each line of their face into place. If you didn’t infuse their story into the piece it was just some colorful person without any meaning. But you wanted to give the viewer of your art a full piece. They should be able to look at your picture and understand the life that the subject lived; your art created that life.

It was crazy to think that a few years before you were in school thinking about becoming an English teacher.It was a chance meeting at a grocery store when you ran into your old friend Saul’s mother. When you had been kids the pair of you had been so close and secretly your mothers had both had fingers crossed for a wedding that never happened. The pair of you split apart the summer after senior year to set out of a life you each wanted. His mother had invited you over for dinner, which she also invited her son to, thrusting the pair of you back into each other's lives.

Oddly enough, it was like time hadn’t passed between you. The easiness of your friendship coming back without even trying and soon the pair of you were hanging out on almost a daily basis. With your schedule up helped manage his house, buying groceries, doing some cleaning, and running a few errands he never remembered. In return you had a few rooms to yourself. Slash had wanted to make sure you had time for your art as well as a space for it.

Dressing in a white floral pattern sundress you grabbed your bag that contained your art supplies. You wanted to get to the park early and set up a blanket you could spend the day sketching and painting on. You planned to soak up the sun in your skin and use the good lighting to get some new work to sell for the craft fair this weekend. As you turned to grab the picnic foods you had made the night before you saw Axl sitting at the counter. His green eyes looked up, smiling when he saw you.

“Hey, Y/N. Slash just left. I’m going to leave in a minute. I was just finishing up some lyrics.” he was always over and you thought that he was lonely in his role as lead singer. Even though Axl put on this tough guy imagine and had a reputation it was like he needed to work for that because he thought that was what rock stars were supposed to do. Whenever he was around you he seemed lost, always making extra conversation or taking the time to go walk to the coffee cafe with you and wait in line, even if he didn't want anything.

“I’m heading out for a day in the park.” you told him, moving the wax paper covered sandwiches into a small wicker basket, along with some fruit and cheese, some water, and a bottle of wine. You could feel his eyes on you, “I’m over packing and have more than enough if you want to come with me?” you let your eyes flutter up from packing the basket to look at him. “I’ll leave you alone to write because I’m just going to spend the time working on some new portraits.” It was important to you that you set up expectations. There was no need for him to feel like he was going there to entertain you or vice versa.

“I’d love to go. You don’t mind?” he asked as you finished packing up the wicker basket. You shook your head no, letting him pick up the food you had just packaged and leading you outside, “What park did you want to go to? I can drive us there.” you told him what you were thinking, getting comfortable in the convertible.

When you had moved in with Slash you had forged fast friendships with his bandmates. Even though you weren’t at every show and didn't always go backstage you had gotten close to them in different ways. On Wednesday nights you hosted a dinner party where you made them all come by so you had an excuse to cook for them. When someone had a ripped piece of clothing at a show you’d quietly take out your sewing kit, stitching patches in jeans and repairing favorite band shirts. You liked being around them all because of how animated everyone was; they were so easy to draw. You had a whole sketchbook of black and white images from the band. Your favorite subjects were Slash and Axl, mainly because they were the two you were around the most and had the most flexibility when it came to moods.

Axl had grown close to you, drawn into the caring nature you had. It was hard for him to understand that someone would do things for him without expecting anything in return. The first time that you had been out drinking with them and insisted Axl came home with you so you knew he was safe he had thought was a come on. When you helped him drink water and gave him aspirin before tucking him into bed he was shocked. Even more shocking was waking up to find his clothes washed and folded on the guest room chair and you carrying in a breakfast tray of freshly made foods. That’s just how you showed you cared about your friends. Being the mother of the group and taking care of them helped you feel like you were contributing as a friend.

Spreading out the blanket under the Weeping Willow tree. You motioned for Axl to sit as you toed off your sandals and moved to sit down. Digging through your bag you set out your sketch pad and pencils. You could see Axl out of the corner of your eye. He didn’t seem to know what to do. You pulled him down to the blanket, settling him so he could rest his back against the tree. You pulled off his shoes and socks and handed him his notebook as you went about unpacking your picnic so he could pick at food if he wanted to.

With him settled in the shade you laid down, belly first in the sun. Picking up your pencil you scanned the park until you found an older man feeding the pigeons. Your eyes followed his movements for a few minutes before you started your sketch. The feeling of the warm sun on the back of your thighs as you twirled the pencil in your hand, capturing all the features of the man.

As you drew you could feel Axl’s eyes on you. At first it was just light glances every few minutes and then it turned to heavy long looks where his eyes were watching you. Ignoring the way his stares made you blush, chalking up the pinkness in your cheeks as just sun exposure.

A hand slid over your calf, over the back of your thighs before going over your dress and laying on the flat of your back. You turned your face upward looking at Axl watching you. His eyes flickering from your art up to your face. There was a pause, curiosity and interest in what he was going to do next. Your heart is beating in your chest even though your body is frozen, wondering what he was up to.

“Do you want to take a break and eat? You’ve been working for a couple hours.” Looking past him you saw the sun had changed position in the sky and time had gotten away from you. Sitting up you handed out sandwiches, positioning yourself comfortably besides him in the shade of the tree.

Axl had been following you for most of the spring and now into summer. He's around all the time and often comes along for days like this. But you liked having him around. You thought that he needed the quiet comfortable silence between the pair of you; so much of his life was filled with noise.

“Y/N, do you like this?” He asked, peeling off the crust to his sandwich. The action seemed to be more of a need to keep his hands busy instead of a dislike for the bed.

“Do I like this? Picnics in the park?” You didn’t know exactly what he meant. Axl sometimes seemed to talk in riddles not wanting to fully play all of his cards.

“Being with me.” He didn’t look up to meet your eyes at this, almost embarrassed to be talking about it. You weren’t like Axl. There was no need to talk in riddles or have him guessing how you felt.

“Of course I like having you around, Axl. It’s nice to be able to spend time with someone I like.” He looked up, almost surprised that someone would like to be around him. “I’ve had a crush on you for a few months and it’s nice to get to know you more and find more reasons to like you.” You didn’t feel nervous telling him this. It actually felt like a relief to get it off your chest.

He put down his sandwich, wiping crumbs off on his shirt and looking at his hands to make sure that they were clean. Before you could figure out what he was going to do he had a hand in your hair, tugging you closer to him in a soft kiss. For months you had been thinking about what it would be like to kiss him on one of your lazy afternoons together and now it was happening.

Instead of letting him pull away and think about what he had just done you slid onto his lap, letting your hands wrap around him. His free hand was on your back holding you close as the pair of you made out like teenagers under the shade of the willow tree.

Finally, the pair of you pulled away, swollen plush lips and wild curious eyes watching each other. This new change between the pair of you sparkling like wonder between the pair of you. Axl was playing with a piece of your hair, wrapping the brown lock around his finger like he had been wanting to do for months.

“Does this mean we can finally start dating?” You asked, watching the way he smirked at this question. “Because I don’t know how many more times you can just casually show up without Slash catching on. And I don’t know how many more picnics I can plan without touching you.” You admitted, his lips were on your chin and up your jaw.

“Mhhh, I’ve been waiting for this for so long and now I can have you all to myself.” His voice whispered huskily to you kissing your earlobe. He pulled away to look at you again. “You have to tell Slash.” He said, making you laugh as you rolled your eyes. If that’s what it would take to have Axl you didn’t mind telling your best friend about the relationship.

“You take care of me and I’ll take care of everything else, babe.” You promised, meaning it. This was everything that you had wanted for months and now you were getting it. The man that you had started falling for was yours. It had only taken months worth of picnics to get him.

#Axl gnr #axl rose #axl rose fanfiction #axl rose x ofc #axl rose fan fic #axl rose head canon #axl rose x reader #axl rose gnr #axl rose one shot #axl rose fanfic #axl rose imagine #Axl rose Guns N’ Roses #Axl roses headcanon #Axl oneshot #fluff #fluff writing #request #Axl rose x you

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softkuna · 3 years

Text

Sukuna || Interview || Fic

Part 1

Content ║ Punk!Sukuna x reader. There is an oc version here.

Beauty wasn’t in the eye of the beholder, no, it is in the mind. Sukuna was enraptured. Addressed again, he shifted his posture, leaning into the arm of the couch as she did with her chair. The two were close in their cohort. An air of comfortable conversation lingered between them, much to his dismay. Her question wasn’t unusual. He’d been asked it in the beginning of his career and one where he had a planned answer.

Count ║ 2,626 K

Consider ║ Swearing. Female Pronouns (she/her).

Creator ║ This is the reader version. I took the name of the oc out. Hopefully the double post isn’t too weird? I did research on punk fashion, culture, and all which was really interesting. I knew some stuff about it before, but it’s really rich! I hope it’s not too information dense for you guys. Either way, Punk!Sukuna is now my comfort au and writing him is an absolute delight!! Also, Sorry for changing from ‘you’ to she/her ;v; it’s a lot easier for me to write/edit this way.

Sukuna had a lazy grin as he lounged back into a modern cream sofa. His arm stretched across the back of it, ankle crossed over his knee. Eyes staggered from the two cameras set up to the woman talking with some other chick. One held a small stack of papers, the other was grandly gesturing. He breathed out a short-stop breath, wishing they wouldn’t waste his time with bickering. Annoying as it was, it left a thick self-satisfactory lather over his ego.

“-didn’t you say the band?”

“Yeah, but this is better.”

“Sure… but what happens if-“

Quite frankly, he hated most press and avoided it, so to just have him in the hot seat was a double-edged blade. They didn’t get the whole band, but they did have The King himself. Whatever publicity he thrived off of were live shows, signings, fancams, tangible and real-time events. Interviews were a complete and utter waste of his time. He did a couple in the beginning, but found them pointless, callous even. They all asked the same shit. So, him coming alone was absolutely a note to pin to the fridge, even if it were a passive-aggressive post-it note.

His head turned to the two going back and forth. It wasn’t until the third minute ticked by that Sukuna felt the flashpoint of his blood plummet, “Yo! We doing this or what? You’re wasting my time here, Eros.”

The blogger whipped her head to the man with an indignant, “Excuse me?”

“Eros. Known for being reckless and unreliable? Like your scheduling.” He leaned forward, elbow on knee and chin in palm. The aura of shit-eatery exponentially growing, “You’re not excused, sorry, not sorry Princess.”

“I think you have the wrong God,” She quipped as she dusted off the front of her outfit. It was a smart look and an intentional one for an interview with a punk rocker. What would strike the best complement than a khaki academic outfit? It consisted of a white high collared button up, sleeves billowing before cinching at her wrists. The blouse was stuffed into high-waisted, cuffed khaki chinos, pleated at the center of each pant leg. Over top, a gray woolen sweater vest. Accessories included various silver rings, a black ribbon to tie under the folded collar, and small silver studs as earrings. Makeup remained that done-up natural with brow, liner, and mascara. Hair had been swept into something similar to a faux 1920’s bob, pulled loosely back. The overall silhouette made the perfect contrast.

Sukuna wanted to peg her as your average superficial fashion bitch, he really did. Even at the concert, she dressed smartly despite the pathetic look on she wore on face. It wasn’t until afterwards when he saw the burn in her eyes, that he craved for her to prove him wrong.

Black flats clacked as she approached her own seat, a matching armchair to the couch. She held a certain command once she walked in, instructing him on where to be, which camera to look at, and what the introduction would be. He listened, admiring how her small frame moved to and fro, fixing up last minute edits on a paper, chattering with who he assumed to be a videographer. It was a whole production. One that was hers. The set itself was practically out of a home décor magazine. It was a general space used across the publisher, but she was born to be there. Deserved to be there. Her calculated glee and deliberate positioning of each member made him feel as though he were looking through a mirror.

The interview process began.

She sat professionally, legs crossed and leaning on the arm of her chair closest to Sukuna. He was unmoving, that slit to his lip curling upwards as the cameras began. She introduced the blog, the channel, her social media handles. With a smile, she introduced herself, “With me in this special is lead singer of Two Face, the King of Curses – Sukuna.”

The camera panned to his lazy wave, “Yo.” He looked to her, she looked to him and for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of interest. Maybe the man was meant for cameras after all.

“After looking more into the punk scene, there’s a pretty interesting history behind it. Revolution, social discourse, poverty, violence, and unity. As someone in the scene, can you talk a little bit about what you know of the background?”

Sukuna drank in her voice, smooth and warm like the steady strum of a bass guitar. For a moment, he wondered if she sang. He quirked a brow, “Sounds like you didn’t research enough to summarize it yourself,” Eyes flickered to her features, watching as slight annoyance crinkled onto her nose then smoothed, “Let me learn you, Daisy. Starting back from rock in the 50’s, take that, strip it, build it with shit you find in the backyard…” His wrist rolled as his harmonious voice sang on, lacking even a single stutter as he summarized the movement top to bottom, inside and out, “…So, people would make their own records, sell them in plastic bags, they’d scan and reprint photos to make their own ‘zines. Shit was hard to distribute without tech…”

Much of his dissertation, she hadn’t even found on her own deep dive into the culture. Sure, the anarchist and nihilistic ideologies were well known to pretty much anyone who would listen, but the deep history and connection between communities was far beyond the surface scratched into.

“There’s a crowd of sub-genres now. Fuck ‘punk is dead’ what even is that bull shit?” Sukuna scoffed, jerking his chiseled chin to the side, “Only thing that’s dead here is – ironically – peoples drive to change.”

His interviewer sat in silence for a moment, mind spinning. He spoke in the way a well-educated University professor gave a dissertation to his peers, dripping in confidence from his storm of information. He was articulate despite the fowl language, even including a tie in to modern perception. Excitement curled into the recess of her mind. In a delightful turn of events, expectation and reality didn’t match up.

She leaned forward slightly folding her hands over the arm of the chair, “That was comprehensive. Thanks!” She chuckled, causing the man before her to freeze and thaw with a nod. She continued, “With all of this mention of D.I.Y. culture in punk, let’s talk about Vivienne Westwood.”

Sukuna kept his attention to her profile as she spoke to the camera, catching himself in the glow of her enthusiasm, “On Kings Road in England, she kickstarted the fashion movement into gear. Now, many would think that with a style such as this, it would’ve been hand-me-downs, pins, self-stitching, but contrary to this belief, many of the clothes in her store were expensive. Knock offs circulated, and seeing as much of it did have that hand-done finishing touch, many decided to take tailoring to their own hands…” Not that this was a competition, but she found herself trying to prove his ‘research’ comment wrong. Her ability to scour and exhaust her resources of fashion history is the furnace that kept her going and she would make it well known that she was not to be challenged.

The approaching lurch of a stalemate stuck to the walls of the vocalist’s stomach. Something he didn’t think he’d feel for a while. Small stuff over here may not’ve known all there was about the cultural history, but he could feel the crashing wave of fascination washing over him as she spoke. Sure, some of it he knew. Some of it he naturally garnered from stylistic preference and others he learned for marketing, however there was just a certain target she aimed for with such precision that he bled a newfound admiration.

“You’ve answered it already, yeah, I know. I saw the interview,” Her head tilted to the side, pleasant smile hinting at her trick, “but enlighten me for a second about how your natural style transitioned to what it is on stage. We’ll put up some of the photos taken from last night here,” her hand gestured to some empty space, “You basically turned chiaroscuro and made it a performance. It’s obvious in how each member contrasted with themselves and the stage.”

The chick didn’t even know who he was a week ago, yet somehow watched every interview since the start? An answer tumbled from the tongue readily, “Punk is like a renaissance of music. Like I said before, it tore down the foundations of what was before and built something new out of it.” The words were succinct, but as her pretty lashes bat, he was goaded into continuing, “Contrast is important. I like art. I like plays. Just ‘cause it’s punk doesn’t mean I can’t have it look aesthetic? Or is that a word only snobby fashion journalists can use now?”

“Hm. Change ‘journalist’ to ‘vocalist’ and you’re a word away from meeting the requirement,” It was a sour candy treat traded for his lemon warhead.

“Ouch. Miss Blog-Spot here has some sass,” His large frame leaned further into the armrest, cheek resting on that fist.

“Mister Eight-Track here is some a–“

The videographer clapped his hands, “We have sponsors, you know. We can at least censor him.”

It was Sukuna’s time to laugh a loud, hyena-like cackle. A large hand smacked his leather-clad knee. She scrunched her nose again, biting back her tongue from childishly jutting out at him.

As soon as the videographer clapped his hands again, she recollected herself, shuffled her papers, and continued on, “From what it looks like, you took a mixture of old and new high-trend brands and added a touch to them to keep with theme. Even now, you’re wearing a Real McCoy with cone spikes embedded. Is that custom made? McCoy isn’t cheap.”

Part of him hated her keen eye, but reveled in her raw talent all the same. “I’m not going to bull shit you and say I dumpster dive for my clothes. I like high quality things. What’s the point in making money if I can’t spend it? What’s a bigger ‘fuck you’ than having your version of a top-brand item being worth more than the original?” With a proud glint in his eye, he rolled the jacket off, sure to make a grand display of strong, bare arms as he did so. The muscle tank he wore was similar to the concert before, white with a pocket, neckline was stretched and worn. It hung over the dense muscle of his shoulders and chest. Sukuna could feel the trail of her eyes on him. His chest puffed from her approval. He threw the jacket over his knee, flipping the leather inside out to show where the studs had been placed, “See this? Did it myself.”

Manicured fingers touched the inside of the jacket, thumbing the connecting points that the studs were pressed in by and sealed. The work was immaculate. Sukuna leaned back, canines gleaming as he saw her mouth move in a silent ‘wow’. He picked the front of his tank top, snapping it up and allowing it to billow back to his body, “Embroidered this, too.”

He waited for her comment, her praise. Why? Like he needed some two-bit Vanderbilt bitch’s validation. He chalked it up to being praised by a master of the craft. He hadn’t been prepared for her to take the fabric between her fingers and rub it, concentrated brows cinched like a corset. Well-toned abs flinched in response to her delicacy, but she didn’t notice.

The embroidery was messy and chaotic, but it was obviously intentionally. The way the needlework was so clean, barely leaving a hole from the pull of the exceptionally soft fabric. It wasn’t floral like in the concert, but abstract stitching created crosses and streaks here and there, using the composition of the fabric as like it were a canvas. Experimentalist. It was like touching the work of Westwood herself.

God, she hated how perfect it was. It squeezed her heart to know that he was so effortlessly multi-talented. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers once more, attention being stolen by his baritone voice. She could practically hear the treble in it, “Ey Princess, you think it’s okay to just touch me?” His breath caught under the arrogant teasing of his words. Not from the words themselves. Couldn’t care less about that. What choked him up was whatever resplendent emotion flared from them when she peered up to him.

“Let me check the tag.”

“What?”

The blogger leaned back, cheekily snapping the shirt as she did so. “Your shirt, can I check the tag? I want to see what its made out of. Also, sorry.”

Sukuna blinked twice, mouth stupidly hanging open before he leaned forward, “I’ll allow it.”

He may have tinnitus, but he wasn’t deaf enough yet to miss the mocking ‘I’ll allow it,’ muttered under her breath. He wanted to laugh, but for the second time, the graze of chilled fingertips along his skin shut him up. Along the back of his neck, she fiddled to flip the collar and tug it. Her eyes squinted and a hum escaped her throat. Sometimes she wished she could read upside down. That’s when she sat on the back on the sofa and leaned closer, pulling the shirt to better read the small print. If Sukuna were a cat, he’d lean his head into her. The thought physically bothered him.

“I knew it. It’s American Pima. Thanks for letting me check.”

He missed the shiver her touch gave him as she sat back into her chair.

“While I have more questions for you, this video’s gotten pretty long already, so we’ll have to cut it a bit short here,” She gave a closing statement, motioning for her guest to do the same. With a thanks, the cameras were cut.

While the editor and videographer chatted together, She leaned heavily into the back of her chair, poised posture slipping into something more comfortable. Long lashes slid closed and a heavy drag of breath lifted her chest. Sukuna’s eyes trailed along her form, contemplating Eros once more.

She exhaled sharply, “I do appreciate you coming on stage. It’s disgusting how talented you are.” She laughed, cracking an eye open to meet his, “I prepped a lot of questions thinking you’d be short with me. It’s a shame I only got to ask a few.”

He was surprised himself. It was more than just her talent to make him talk - she may have been the first to see him as an opportunity rather than a commodity. ‘She would be the first and last reporter to see me as a meal’ was the thought he had going into this interview. He had every single intention to shut down her buffet, make it apparent that he was not to be dined on by a single soul. Yet, if his dish were ‘opportunity’, hers would be ‘intrigue’. He wanted to devour it, to know its palette and identify its spices. It was a compulsory urge to order, just to see why he craved it in the first place.

“Film the next few concerts. Backstage.”

Tags: @lovesakusa

#⛩.sukuna #⛩.fic #⛩.punk #🍺.jjk #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk fic

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thotsforvillainrights · 3 years

Note

hii!! how’re you doing?? i hope you’re doing well, if it’s not too much trouble, can i please request a smut scenario for which setsuno falls in love with a pro hero who’s been undercover in the shie hassaikai who also loves him back but knows how risky it is and confides in him telling him that they’re a hero and from there, things eventually escalate to doing the do in the base without trying to get caught?? sorry if it’s too specific, if it’s too confusing or if you need me to clarify anything then that’s fine!! ❤️

(Honestly if someone were to take this and turn it into a full on fanfic, I’d read the chapters like crazy)

~Risky~

-Toya Setsuno smut-

Risky- full of the possibility of danger, failure, or loss

Neither of you knew what you were doing but you both knew this had to be love. However, you got to this point from the wrong end of things. You were a pro and should’ve known better, but how could you let him go now? Going undercover to track the Hassaikai’s behaviors, being placed on his team, and getting to know everything about him first? It certainly didn’t help keeping you focused on work. Setsuno had went from being your first target, to your coworker, to your friend, to somewhat of a love interest but let’s be honest, you were partners now. For him, well he’d long since realized you were a spy by the way you interacted with him within the first 2 weeks of joining the yakuza. He was trained to root out any traitors (well him and Nemoto of course). He was going to sell you out until he had felt himself falling for you. This was a shocker on his end considering he figured his walls built around his heart were strong. The walls weren’t strong enough to withstand your laugh or your smile, or even the way you scoffed in annoyance sometimes at his awful jokes. When you finally revealed to him that you were a hero, he went ahead and fessed up that he already knew. From that point you figured you’d either leave and lie about any info you got on the Hassaikai, or he’d leave and sell out his own friends. None of that was going to happen so you were both stuck contemplating leaving together and starting a new life.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful your eyes are. I could get pretty lost in those (e/c) orbs of yours, y’know?” You rolled your eyes at his compliment and continued to work. “What trashy movie did you get that line from.” You teased while organizing some files. “Toya shouldn’t you be off on a mission today with Tabe and Hojo anyway?” You turned to watch him smirk and blush a bit. “Yeah well...” he paused to lock the door and slowly approached your desk. “I kinda stuck around for you. Do you think you could pay me back with a kiss?” He leaned down to your chair height and smiled sweetly. “If all you wanted was a kiss, why’d you lock the door?” You teased him as you leaned across the desk to meet his lips. When pulling away and mumbled quietly ‘privacy sake’.

“Privacy sake huh? I’ve known you long enough now and I can tell you’ve never been this bold with me before. If there’s something else you want then you should say it.” You smirked before standing up and moving to meet him on the other end of the desk. He smiled, stood up, and handed you a piece of paper from his pocket. “Go on, read it.” You tilted your head in confusion and unfolded the paper to begin reading. When finished, you gasped and looked at him. He was smiling widely with teary eyes by now. “I put in my 2 weeks notice a few days ago and I’ve been waiting to tell you. Maybe you should wait a while until after I leave before you put yours in. That way it won’t look fishy to the boss. Y/N, I really don’t know what kinda magic spell you put on me, but I’ll do anything to be by your side from now on...even if that means leaving all this behind.” Before he could say anything else, you pulled him into a pretty passionate kiss. A kiss that would warrant the door being locked right now. Just because his group was gone on a mission it doesn’t mean the other groups weren’t here. “Maybe a outta take this back to the apartment.” He tried to speak between breaths. “With 4 hours left before we can clock out? You try justifying leaving work this early.” You replied as you began buttoning down his shirt and loosening his tie. “Y/N you make a mess out of me.” He proceeded to take your clothes off as well. “Me make a mess out of you? You’re the one that pranced in her and started it first. You teased him a bit more. He smirked and gripped your shoulders to lead you until your backside hit the desk, forcing you to lean backward and lay atop your unfinished paper work. For someone a skinny as him, his strength wasn’t too bad!

“Condom???” He nodded at you and reached into his back pocket. “How long have you had that on you today? Did you plan this, Toya?” You loved teasing him because it was cute watching try to keep his composure when his face was extremely pink. “Hush, would you?” He mumbled as he started opening the small packet.

Once all that was taken care of, he settled himself between your legs, gripping each leg and folding your knees into you as comfortably as he could without hurting you. He looked up at you and waited for consent to keep going. Once you nodded your head at him and gave him that caring smile, he slowly entered tip first. Inch by agonizingly slow inch, he pushed himself into you. He wasn’t even thrusting yet, but he already felt like he was nearly out of breath from the pleasure. Trying to keep someone as vocal as himself from moaning out or whining was a difficult task, but he somehow managed for now. “Y/N I’m...why are you so tight?” He whispered in disbelief. “Please oh my God Y/N, tell me I can move now. I’m begging you~” He begged silently with watery eyes. “Yes Toya~” That was all it took for him to pull all the way out slowly before slamming back into you once. He leaned down to bite at your neck and keep from moaning out. It wasn’t just difficult on is end either...You were also struggling with being quiet so you two wouldn’t be caught. His cock had a way with making you sing the most delicious of moans, so you needed to take your own precautions by biting the inside of your cheek in desperation to keep quiet.

For a while he continued to pull out all the way and keep slamming back into you at once because the pace was preventing him just barely from whining, but eventually he couldn’t handle it any longer and neither could you. He finally stayed in, thrusting at a moderately fast pace and listening to the sound of skin slapping against skin in the dim office. Little moans, whispered, and whining bouncing off the walls as he brought the two of you closer and closer to each respective orgasm. “Y/N, pleeeeaaase~” You could tell he was close by the way he began to beg for release as if you were controlling the pace. “Please, please, please, ple-fuck pleeease I’m~” He quickly leaned back down to bite harshly at your neck before filling you nearly to the brim with his seed. Meanwhile you’d taken to biting his shoulder with the same harshness.

Once everything had calmed down and the two of you caught your breath, he removed himself and started tidying up the sex mess you two created. You decided to do the same, and scurried to gather the papers that fell off the desk during your activities. “C’mon look...”You playfully glared at him as you pointed to the bite mark on your neck. “Ah that’ll fill out. It’s just a little indent. Besides, you did the same to me too y’know.” He pointed at his shoulder. “Uh yeah, but you can cover your mark with clothes. I can’t wear a scarf right now. It’s burning up down here!” He laughed at you and moved to place a loving kiss on your forehead. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out, hero.” He teased you, but there was nothing but love in those eyes making you even more eager to see what the future would hold for you two.

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

Instagram: @pastelbattydraws & @pastelbattystore

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRNMJH7vHL7APNobUykhK4w?view_as=subscriber

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #setsuno toya #toya setsuno smut #toya setsuno #toya setsuno x reader #Smut #minors dni #minor dni #shie hassaikai #yakuza #eight bullets #eight expendables #eightfold cleansers #Eight Precepts of Death

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papergirllife · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1

Synopsis:

You don’t know what it’s like to be free, to make your own choices, and live your own life. For your whole life, your parents have been treating you like a puppet on strings, controlling your life to every single detail, as well as ignoring the fact that you have feelings. Other times, when you disobey their wishes, or speak up about your own opinions, they bash you down with words, in other words, psychological abuse, has led you down the long winded road of depression and anxiety. What happens when you meet a man who’s willing to be your guide out of this terrible downpour? Would you give a shot at happily ever after?

Warnings:

big age gap (kinda?)

issues on anxiety

issues on depression (mild)

issues on parental abuse

smut (maybe)

Tag List: @etherealtyjaem (lmk if you wanna be on the list)

It has always been like this, being locked up in the study room so you could ‘study’ for hours end, or that’s what they think you’re doing. You studied in an elite academy with your smart cousins, only to have you graduating with average grades, which of course, earned you a harsh scolding from your parents. Now, you’re supposed to be studying business for university, even though you had zero interests in it, the subject is fine, it’s what you’re studying it for that irks you. Your family runs a business in Seoul, but from what you can see by secretly skimming through the files as well as the arguments behind shut doors with your aunts and uncles, things aren’t going as planned.

You don’t have many friends, nor a phone, they took it away from you when you wanted to go out with some friends, claiming that it’s a distraction that should be locked away. You felt like Rapunzel, locked away from the world, they don’t have any love for you, you’re quite sure they don’t, they had once slapped your face ten times when you had a boyfriend behind their backs, and you were 15 for god’s sake, along with other things that you rather not say, you don’t want to relive all those painful memories.

Sometimes you wished you could go back to the time when you were a child, when you were at your grandparents’ in the morning, her warm smile and loving eyes, when you didn’t know what laid ahead. You wish you hadn’t realised that you were being abused, you used to think what you went through was the same for other kids as well, until you talked about it with other people and scared them away from you. The painful memories sinking back in made the words in front of you blurry as you felt tears seeping in your eyes.

Depression.

It’s deemed as something ridiculous in your family, and that people who are suffering from it are weaklings and don’t deserve anything from this society.

‘Does that mean I’m weak?’

You never went to therapy nor took any medication for your mental illnesses, and recently the development of anxiety attacks are constantly putting you on edge. You have them at least once a week, sometimes you even had problem breathing, but you couldn’t tell anyone about it, nor anyone would ever listen to your cries of help.

“We’re going to help sell your uncle’s house this Saturday,” your mother said as she was folding the clothes.

“The mansion he recently bought?” you asked, confused as to why he would sell the mansion he was obsessed with just two months ago.

“Yes, he bought that without our permission back then, so now we need to sell it for funds, and you need to be there to entertain the potential buyers, give them a tour around the house and other enquiries. You have to direct them to us if you think they’re truly interested, it’s going to be an open house concept party,” cold, that’s how your mother sounded, her claims of putting family above everything else flying out of the window whenever her demands are not met.

“Okay, is there anything else?” you asked, hoping to be excused as soon as possible.

“No, you can continue your studies in the study room.”

That’s what basic communication is in your life, you tried talking about your interests, your opinions, but they either fall on deaf ears, or you would receive a lecture for having a ‘false perspective’. You’ve given up on talking to them about things that are going in on your life now, they don’t listen anyways.

The party is filled with old men with their muffin tops waddling around with a wine glass in hand and talking obnoxiously loud, obviously having too much money to go by, looking at how overly filled their bellies are.

You tried hiding away in the house, but your family kept pushing you out to talk to them. Their stares were not intimidating, no, but it made you feel uncomfortable as their gazes linger a bit too long on your legs or anywhere else, and the way they didn’t want to let go after they shook your hand, made your anxiety levels rise to the roof.

You would find random excuses to run away, like going to refill their glass or saying you need to use the loo, your heartbeat going as fast as your legs could take you away from them.

When you came back out from hiding for the 6th time, both your parents were rushing you to meet someone new.

“He’s a man of great fortune and power, so the chances of him buying this house is high. Don’t try to hide from this one, or you’ll get it when we get home,” your mother warned, her eyes side eying you with daggers.

Your mother’s threat made you sick inside, what are you to them? A scapegoat?

You weren’t paying attention to who or where was she pushing you to, but once you stopped, the man in front of you made your eyes as big as saucers.

‘How is a man like this doing here?’ you thought to yourself.

“Hello Mr Suh, we’re quite busy at the moment with other potential buyers. Why don’t we allow my daughter, Y/N, to show you around?” your mother said, her voice overly sweet, like day old cotton candy.

Once you were in front of him, your parents left. Leaving you helpless as your social anxiety kicks in, your eyes trained on his shoulder, eye contact, especially from this man, made you very nervous.

“C-can I give you a tour?’ you asked, hoping to ditch him halfway.

Johnny looks at the way your eyes avoid his, it wasn’t hard, given how tall he was, there’s just something so intriguing about you, so different from the girls that throw themselves at him with zero doubts.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Johnny,” Johnny introduced himself by bending down slightly, a friendly smile on his face, one that you can’t decipher whether he had similar intentions as those nasty old men had.

To say that the tour was horrible would’ve been an understatement, you kept stuttering under his piercing gaze, instead of looking at you like you were his next meal like other potential buyers, Johnny was genuinely listening to what you have to say. You didn’t think the house was any interesting, it was just a bunch of useless expensive things under one roof, like the movie room, the slides at the pool, the ‘mini’ bar. These things weren’t appealing to you, riches are overrated when it becomes too common, like your cousins and their different designs of Birkin bags, you weren’t exactly fond of their favourite alligator skinned ones as well.

Yet Johnny didn’t look at the cliche setting that you are currently presenting, instead his eyes are trained on yours, it wasn’t a scrutinizing gaze like the wives of those perverted men who stared down on you, nor anything that seems predatory, it only held calculation and observance. On the house? It doesn’t seem like it. On you? You can bet this whole house that he’s met women far more beautiful compared to a plain jane like you.

“T-that’s all for the tour, Mr Suh. Would you want me to direct you to my parents, if you’re interested?” you asked, hoping that you’d get to be alone again.

“Can you take me to the park nearby? I’d like to see the facilities available in this housing area,” he answered smoothly, as if he had calculated every little detail in his life.

You nodded wordlessly at his request, taking him to see the park nearby the house. It was a weird sight, having a man as tall as Johnny towering behind you.

“This is the park,” you pointed stupidly, cursing at yourself, obviously this is the park, anyone with eyes could tell.

Johnny inhaled the breath of fresh air this area offered, his shoulders not as tensed up after. A smile decorated his handsome face as he turned towards you.

“Let’s sit.”

Johnny directed you to the nearest park bench, his size taking up most of the bench, yet he scoots into himself as you sat down next to him, giving you personal space.

‘Does he think I’m going to lower the price of the house for him? I don’t even know how much they’re selling it for,’ you thought, thinking this man must be mad that an unimportant person like you could negotiate with him.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Y/N. I’m not interested in the house,” Johnny said, breaking the silence.

Your mom isn’t going to be pleased when she hears this, you thought as you bit at your bottom lip, thinking about how harsh is she going to react if she didn’t get a buyer out of this event.

“Thank you for taking your time for considering through out this-

“I’m interested in you.”

Did you hear that correctly or was your mind playing tricks on you?

You stared at Johnny as his hand comes close to your face, he wasn’t pulling you closer, instead his fingers reached out to gently graze the underside of your eyes.

“I can see what you’re hiding,” Johnny said solemnly, his eyes showing you pity.

You quickly took out your compact mirror out of your pocket, checking to see if you did a bad job on the concealer for your puffy eyes today, but it looked fine.

“I used to be involve in theater, and I’ve seen people covering unwanted marks or eye bags on their face many times. It’s not obvious to most people, don’t worry,” Johnny explained.

The touch of his fingertips on your face was filled with warmth, as well as his eyes when he looked at you now, if his eyes were honey you’ll be as addicted as Winnie the Pooh. His touch was quickly gone as it had came, his hand placed back into his lap as he stares ahead.

“I’m not going to assume anything, but from what I can see, I don’t think you deserve to be going through what you’re facing now. And as for your family’s company, it’s not going to last long even if they managed to sell this property out. You’re going to be in a much more disappointing situation when that happens, I’ve been in the business game my whole life, my predictions hardly go astray anymore,” Johnny said without a sliver of judgement, he was just laying out the cards for you to observe.

Johnny reaches for a card in his coat pocket and handed it to you, it was his business card.

“I can take you away from all this chaos raging among your family, if you can call it a family that is. I’ll be seeing you soon, Y/N,” Johnny said before standing up and walking away to the direction where his car awaits, his driver closing his door.

That was most definitely a statement.

#nct smut #nct fluff #nct #johnny suh #johnny smut #johnny fluff #seo young ho #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv

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songtoyou · 3 years

Text

Tempting Fate - Part Seven

Paring: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Nothing major. Mention of smoking cannabis.

Word Count: 2,025

Story Summary: Tommy is not a believer in fate or destiny. However, a new resident in Small Heath will question his beliefs and push his boundaries outside his comfort zone.

A/N: Please don’t hate me.

Please do not post any of my fics to other sites without my permission.

Tag List: @owenniasstars

Tommy didn’t ask you to walk with him to the canal to meet up with Curly. You didn’t ask to come along. As Tommy said, this was something he needed to do by himself. However, it wouldn’t mean that you weren’t going to worry about him until he safely returned.

One thing you still have trouble contemplating was how much your relationship with Tommy had changed in such a short amount of time. The man used to ignore you to now having sex with you regularly. It was such a fast switch of behavior that you didn’t quite know where it came from. Whenever Tommy was around, you never gave this view much thought or interest, mostly because you were so preoccupied with Tommy that he took up a lot of your attention.

Now with him gone, it allowed you room and time to think things through if Tommy was, in fact, “the one” or not. However, you could not deny your feelings for the man that continued to grow each day you were with him. Tommy made your heart flutter that no other man had been able to accomplish.

You didn’t have too much time to think things over as Esme had arrived with the kids. You let them inside while finished making the lunch packs for the trip.

The kids rallied around you, yelping and begging for treats. “Oi! Settle down, or we won’t be going to no fair!” Esme yelled to the kids, who immediately quieted down.

You laughed while pulling out a tin with biscuits and gave each child a piece. “You lot are lucky she spoils all of you,” Esme said, pointing to each child. “So, I guess Tommy told you to be on your best behavior and not make trouble?” asked Esme, and when you nodded your head, she scoffed. “The same spiel John gave me. Those men have a lot of nerve telling us not to get into trouble.”

“Oh, trust me, then know. It won’t stop them from doing it. Okay, I think I have everything we need. We can head out. Johnny Dogs said he would meet us outside of The Garrison,” you instructed and handed one of the kids the basket with the lunch packs and other items for the road.

The ride to the fair went by fast, thanks to Johnny telling stories the entire way. You could tell Johnny was a good guy. He was a loyal friend to Tommy and appeared to get along with everyone. Johnny appeared not to be a part of one clan but multiple clans. He had the ability to integrate from one to another.

Born in Northern Ireland to a family of Irish travelers, John had befriended Tommy when they were younger. It was only when Tommy, Arthur, and John headed off to France during the War that he joined the Lee gang. You were surprised to find out that it was Johnny who presided over John and Esme’s wedding. You were equally surprised to find out that Esme and John's marriage was not a love marriage. It was arranged by Tommy and the Lees to bring both families together as they were close to being in a war with one another. All in all, you liked the man.

The wagon came to a sudden halt. “We are here!” exclaimed Johnny excitedly.

You looked out to see other wagons all lined up with people spread out in the field. There was music already being played, children running around happily, and the smell of food was exquisite. This is what you had been missing while being in Small Heath. The freedom that comes with traveling, not having to answer to anyone, living off the land, and making do with what you have. Overall, it was the sense of community that you missed the most, of being around others like you. It was one of the reasons why you became so attached to Esme. She understood while others couldn’t. Not even Tommy could understand your feelings of homesickness or why you missed traveling. He tried, but it was not something he would ever understand.

Sometimes you got the sense that Tommy was someone who tended to downplay his roots. You knew his goal of gaining power within the upper hierarchy of British society. You knew the upper crest looked down on those with working-class backgrounds and could only imagine what they thought of those with Romani blood.

While Johnny tended to the horses, you walked around with Esme and the kids. There were fortune tellers, palm readers, stalls selling jewelry, clothing, or farming tools, and an array of other horse-related items for sale. Esme got each of the kids some food and told them to bugger off and not get into trouble.

“Fancy having your fortune told?” you teased Esme, who merely rolled her eyes.

“Charlatans, all of them. They’ll only tell you what you want to hear. I was told I would marry a man who was tall, dark, and handsome. That he would be my soulmate, my other half, all that bullshit these old birds tell ya,” Esme ranted off.

“John’s tall, blond, and handsome. You may have gotten together under the not-so-normal circumstance, but you both love each other very much. Right?”

But Esme shrugged. “So, I take it the honeymoon stage is over?” you asked her.

With a sigh, Esme turned towards you, “John, I don’t know; he doesn’t talk to me about anything. He keeps things to himself, especially with what happened during the War. He has nightmares, you know.”

“Yeah, I figured all of the Shelby brothers have their inner demons from the War. It is the same with Tommy. He doesn’t share much either, but I can’t force him. All I can do is be there for him. That is what you are going to have to do with John. The Shelby’s are an unusual bunch. One we aren’t used to or have experienced before. It is as if they have this need to better themselves and to prove that they are worthy. We don’t have that need. We are happy with what we have and where we come from. No amount of money or materialistic things are going to change who we are,” you elaborated to Esme.

She seemed to consider what you were saying. “I need a drink,” was all Esme said and linked her arm with yours.

The two of you sat under a tree with a drink in hand, sharing a plate of food and passing a joint. Esme seemed to be in a lighter mood than before, thanks to the alcohol and cannabis.

When Esme said your name, you looked over at the brunette. “What?” you asked.

“I meant to ask you this for some time. How is Tommy in bed?”

You could feel the heat on your face. Stifling a smile, you hid your face with your hand to hide your blushing. Soon, you turned into a fit of giggles.

“Come one, now!” yelled Esme smiling. “Don’t get all prudent on me! How is the King of Birmingham in the sack?”

When you were able to compose yourself, you answered, “He is amazing. I don’t know how else to describe being with him. He just…I have never felt like this with any other person. The way he knows my body. It’s like he knows what makes me tick. He knows how to bring me over the edge and back again. It’s an amazing feeling.”

“Must be nice,” was all Esme said and took a drag of the joint.

You looked over at your friend. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes. You couldn’t imagine being in her position. You wouldn’t want to be in a marriage that was arranged by your older brother only to stop a war starting between two rival families. That is bound to create a marriage of convenience rather than love. Your parents were a love match, and it showed. That is what you wanted.

Was Tommy the one for you? You didn’t know, but he was the one for you at the moment.

Thankfully, Tommy returned from London safe and sound. From what you heard from Polly, Tommy’s meeting with Alfie Solomons went well. The leader of the Jewish gang had agreed to align with the Peaky Blinders to take down Sabini. Tommy spent most of his time at Shelby Company Limited, so you didn’t see him too often. This surprised you, but you tried your best to think nothing of it. However, after the first couple of days Tommy got back home, he maintained his distance from you, especially in public.

You stopped by his office one day during your break. You wanted to check on him to see how he was doing. Spotting Lizzie at her desk, you asked if Tommy was in. Not even bothering to look at you, she said he was busy.

“Can you please tell Tommy that I need to talk to him?” you practically pleaded to Lizzie.

You understood the newly appointed secretary’s animosity towards you. She liked Tommy and hated that you had his attention. Lizzie treated Esme the same way now that John was married. You and Esme had the men Lizzie wanted or could have had.

Before you turned to leave, Tommy walked out of his office. He looked at you and waved you inside. “Ms. Stark, please don’t allow any visitors to interrupt my meeting with Ms. Young,” he ordered.

You walked into Tommy’s office, and he guided you to a chair. He asked if you wanted a drink.

“No, I can’t stay long. I only wanted to see how you were doing. I haven’t seen you much since you returned from your trip. Your bruises look like they have healed nicely,” you noted as Tommy sat down in the chair across from you.

He took a swig of his whiskey and pulled out a cigarette. You declined when he offered one to you. “Is everything okay, Tommy?” you asked him, concerned.

As Tommy rubbed his thumb across his lips, he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

“It would be best if we don’t see each other anymore,” Tommy spoke, still not looking at you.

For a second, you thought you misheard him. “What?”

Tommy gulped down the rest of his whiskey and slammed the glass on the side table. “I have other things to worry about. The Company needs to have my full attention. If I want to take over Sabini’s racecourses, then I can’t have any distractions. “

Folding your arms, you leaned back in the chair. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Distractions? So, I’m a distraction, now?” you asked in disbelief. It took all you had not to smack the man before you upside the head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m realistic,” Tommy countered and got up to walk to his desk. “This isn’t the time where I should…” he began to say but didn’t finish. It was like he was at a standstill. You could tell he didn’t believe what he was saying. That Tommy himself knew it was all bullshit. He was pushing you away so you wouldn’t get hurt.

Tommy didn’t want you to end up as a casualty in his war with Sabini. He also didn’t want someone like Campbell to use you as leverage against him. You were too much of a liability to him. If his enemies on to your connection to Tommy, then you could be used as a weakness against him.

Deciding that you had enough and didn’t want to listen to his gibberish, you got up and exited the office. Walking back to The Garrison, you told yourself not to cry that you were not going to shed one tear over a man who didn’t want you. That it was wasted energy crying over someone who was not brave enough even to be honest with you.

Tommy Shelby was a complicated man. You realized that he wasn’t the man for you in the long run. He was merely the man for you at the moment. And that moment was gone now.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic

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bettsfic · 3 years

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Hello i hope you are doing well! I was just wondering if you had any advice re: writing kissing/sex/etc scenes effectively without making it sound super clinical and "insert tab x into slot y"? I know there's a balance to be struck between writing out all the physical bits vs what your audience actually needs to get the gist of the scene, and you do it so well in your writing.

sorry for the delay answering this! first i’d like to direct you to @star-sky-earth‘s tips for good sex writing. truly, she is the master of smut, and her breakdown is better than anything i can tell you.

here are some big-picture thoughts i have about sex writing, in no particular order:

recently i’ve been asking myself of the purpose and function of sex scenes. when i started writing, every sex scene de facto had to be pornographic, with the intention of reader arousal. over the last several years i’ve really stepped down from that idea, because most of the time i’m writing sex scenes to

unveil character

increase or release romantic/sexual tension

explore some facet of sexual identity and intimacy.

with that in mind, i haven’t necessarily been artfully describing throbbing cocks or slick folds lately. i’m more interested in the lead-up and consequences of a sexual interaction between characters. i’ve been practicing what i call the gloss-over and fade-to-black, where i either summarize the scene or skip it entirely. it felt a little bit like a self-betrayal the first time i did it, because i always like to read sex scenes even if i’m not reading them as porn. i’ve been playing with a “less is more” approach to sex.

in original writing, particularly literary writing, i think smut can sometimes be a hard sell (see: taking years to publish my short stories, which are all very, uh, porny). i had to practice writing sex as exactly how you put it, insert tab x into slot y. i think there’s something to be said for sex writing that is the opposite of pornographic, but also isn’t cringe, you know? like writing sex that is an honest and loving portrayal of the act. sometimes i think that’s hotter than throbbing cocks and slick folds. by that i mean, keeping the sex scene exactly the same sort of narration as the rest of the story, just another thing that happens in a greater conflict (pwp notwithstanding).

in a romance, sex or the first kiss is the highest-stakes moment. it’s the scene where characters are the most vulnerable. the greatest stakes most stories are capable of are creation and destruction. creation being sex, in either a literal baby-making way, or a metaphorical “creating a relationship together” kind of way. destruction being, of course, death. romances and comedies tend to end in creation; tragedies in destruction. so the first kiss, the first time having sex, and the wedding are all narratively emblematic of one of the greatest possible stakes. death and failure fall at the opposite end of the spectrum.

so, with all that said, i think sex writing very much comes down to the sentence-level construction. here are some smaller-scale thoughts:

in terms of genitalia epithets, personally i’m not fond of any words other than cock, cunt, and clit, with the occasional dick thrown in. i don’t mind other epithets when i read, but i just don’t like them for my own writing. let’s use “cock” as an example. “cock” is a noun, which means it’s either the subject or object of a sentence, which in turn means it’s the thing doing the action or receiving the action (pun, sorry). as the subject, it would be “his cock throbbed.” as the object, it would be, “he touched his cock.” navigating the naming of genitalia is i think one of the hardest (sorry) thing about porn writing. i try to use “cock” et al very sparingly, because when it comes up (sorry) it’s more jarring/surprising. that means i have to construct sentences around nouns which, as you might imagine, is difficult. often, when cock is the object, i’ll refer to it as “himself” instead, which i’m sure has a fancy rhetorical term i can’t think of right now (update: metonym. it’s called a metonym). (and i’m sure some linguist or rhetorician has probably written a whole paper on how problematic it is to refer to genitalia as one’s entire person). for example, “he stroked himself.” out of porn context, you get a very ambiguous image. one can stroke any part of one’s body. however in context, even though it’s not directly stated, we can assume he is, in fact, jerking it.

generally speaking, in non-porn narration, i’m not fond of adjectives. again, i’m speaking to my own style here, and not prescribing it for others. but it’s taken me a lot of time and thinking to figure out how to construct my own writing style and i made the executive decision to use adjectives somewhat minimally (explaining why is probably a separate post). however, when it comes to sex scenes, i let myself use them a lot, as a treat. adjectives can concisely develop and complicate images. “cock” doesn’t tell me much about what image to conjure. “red, swollen cock wet at the tip” tells me a whole lot about what said cock looks like. here, red and swollen are adjectives and “wet at the tip” is an adjectival phrase. developing images is key to an arousing sex scene. imagery establishes physical response without resorting to “it felt good.” there’s nothing wrong with “it felt good” but if you’re trying to get your reader off, “red, swollen cock wet at the tip” is going to do a better job of it.

now to verbs. verbs are my favorite because they neatly package (sorry) action and imagery together. the word “thrust” conjures a different image than “grind.” both, however, push the scene along. once you establish that the fuckening is happening, you don’t really have to do much else. when you watch porn proper, you get however many minutes of said thrusting, and that’s what, for some people, is alluring. however, in writing, you can’t really write that exactly as it happens. it would be “he thrust. he pulled out. he thrust. he pulled out.” and nobody wants to read that. presumably. maybe someone would dig that, idk.

so instead of “he thrust x100″ or whatever, you use verbs to notate changes in the scene. on a big scale, it would involve changing position. on a smaller scale, it might be, colloquially speaking, “hit the spot that made him see stars.” each change, or verb, is usually increasing the tension to lead to the (literal) climax of the scene. the number and scale of the changes dictates the explicitness and pacing of the scene. the bigger the change in a single verb, the less explicit and shorter your scene will be; the smaller the verbs, the longer and more explicit it becomes. for example, “he got undressed” is different than describing an entire paragraph of removing each article of clothing. “she came” is different than describing each wave of orgasm, etc. which you choose depends entirely on, as i mentioned earlier, the purpose and function of the scene.

okay so that’s enough about the nitty gritty of sex writing. i’d be remiss to spend so much time theorizing about sentence-level construction without giving you an activity or exercise as practice. so here’s how you might start out writing a sex scene if you’re totally lost. please note, this is not a rule, or even a guideline. it’s an experiment to help you get words on a page so you can revise it into something better.

try out a paragraph with a sentence of each of the following, in this order:

action: character A does something to character B

reaction: character B reacts (moan, crying out, etc.)

image: dependent on what POV character is seeing, but the point is to pause in the action to describe something

repeat

if you stick to this too closely, you’ll definitely sound clinical, but also if you keep this pattern in mind, at least you’ll get a scene down. when you go to revise, you can move things around, throw in some dialogue, and most importantly, internal narration. internal narration during the sex scene is the key to moving forward whatever the actual plot of the story is (if applicable).

god i hope this makes sense. if it doesn’t, feel free to drop back in and ask for clarification. anyway, happy porning!

#writing advice #Anonymous

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i-see-you-now-you-see-me · 3 years

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Loving us Both or, Another level of Crazy

(oneshot, but depends of the future) Part of the DYVLONY series, can be read seperately

Pairing : villain Hendery (Wayv) x Reader

Word count: approx 4k

About: I tell you now, important part of this story is- Hendery has two personalities, but it comes up in the story, not to confuse you, here they are:

Hendery (Huang Guanhang)- boss

Guanhee- Huang Guanhee- who deals with all filthy stuff, boss/ to everyone they are brother and sister

Warnings: Mentions of blood and gore, a bit of descriptive character death, sex, filthy smut, Guanhee is a dirty bitch, sex, sex, and some more...

filth under the cut

*Earth, the third Planet from the Sun, 149.6 million kilometers away*

-I keep telling you that someone took her, I am sure of it! – Nurse Nana, your friend whom you hade become great friends, answered.

-Miss, there is no proof of that, you cannot just announce things like this on the internet, it is classed as a felony, - the police officer was not having it, it was the third family member this week, who were saying the exact same thing, “we were on a night out, and she never came back” sort of thing. And the best was, all of the missing persons went to the same club.

Yet police didn’t want to spend their money on this. There were far more important things for them to be dealing with at this hour.

-Alright miss, we will make a file and let you know as soon as something will come up, - he announced.

-Thank you, - nurse Nana thanked the police and left.

While studying at UNI you had a big exam coming up, to help you in the process you had applied to help at the local hospital, trainee psychologist assistant, and a Doctor Vera McGregorky welcomed you into all her conversations with her patients, who didn’t mind you, a student to be there and listen. You had signed the documents for confidential information, and not a single word had escaped your mouth in talks of other patients.

You had met Nana when you arrived, she was the one to greet you and lead you to the doctors’ office, she was nice, and you became friends.

Once your exam had passed, she had invited you for a glass of beer on a night out, (you rarely drank beer, but sometimes you enjoyed it), so you agreed. Somehow during the night, you were left alone, because Nana smoked, and she used to say, “I don’t want your lungs to get polluted because of me, you know that statistics have proven, that a non - smoker standing next to a smoker is at higher risk of lung pollution than the actual smoker,” and she would add with a grin, “that’s the trufff”.

And now, she was there. Walking down the street where the club was.

-Where are you, Y/N, what happened to you, - when she returned from smoking, you were nowhere to be found, she searched everywhere in the club where she could. Not a single glimpse from you was there.

Ever since that day, she has been trying to file a missing persons case, even posted on the internet about it, receiving a few reposts and likes, until she was called to police office. If they would have been a bit more interested in that, eh?

Nana sighed.

-Assholes, - she whispered as she walked of.

* Planet DYVLONY, 10043567901;1102033149001*

-I hate that bitch, - one of the henchmen spoke.

-I know, last time when she slapped you, I remember the look on your face, - he sighed, - why can’t it be her brother this time.

-I know, right? Sometimes she really gets on my nerves.

They both walked through a warehouse that belonged to the Infamous Twins of DYVLONY, and today was one of those days where, instead of himself – Hendery, their boss, more liked preferred boss, they had to work together with his twin sister Huang Guanhee, who, if/when in a bad mood, tended to treat people like shit.

-Didn’t I tell you, that I don’t want to see your ugly ass looking faces today? Huh? Was I not clear? – Huang Guanhee sat on a chair, while behind her, tied to a post was a naked woman, barely breathing, beaten to a pulp.

-Sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but Mr. Tieger wants to see you, or your brother, he is outside, - Guanhee sighed, she hated that bastard, he owed them a lot of money, and he was trying to barter all sorts of shit on a regular basis.

-Ah, - she groaned, - bring him in, - Guanhee agreed.

Both henchmen walked out, grabbed Mr. Tieger by his collar, and really brought him in on his knees, where he stayed. Looking up, seeing Guanhee sitting on the chair, he bit his cheek. She was not the person he wanted to see there.

-Why are you here? I am busy, - she said and crossed her legs.

-I, - his mouth felt dry there for a moment, there was something not right about this woman, - I have been selected to take care of… the aliens that had crashed.

Guanhee arched a brow.

-So? – she asked.

-I have no need of an alien in my home, and I thought… - she didn’t let him finish a sentence.

-You thought? – she abruptly stood up, - exactly what, huh? You come here an offer some alien? What’s in it for me, eh?

She walked closer and smacked Mr. Tieger in the face, so hard, he fell backwards. She groaned and straightened herself up. Guenhee looked at her poor, tied girl in the back, licking her lips, taking a stick from the floor, she walked over to the girl and beat her sides and legs, the girl only jerked around with no sound, tears flowing down her face, she had no voice anymore.

-This is what happens when you don’t pay back the money, and as much as I love a pink pussy to feast on, you don’t have one, so get the fuck out of these premises, and in ten days bring us back money, or else, I will leave you dick- less bleeding in the street, do you understand?

Never have you ever seen a man run as fast as Mr. Tieger did in that moment.

-This bitch is crazy, - he said to himself, as he got in his car and drove off.

Later in the room, on the top floor of the warehouse, Guanhee was undressing. Her stockings were rolled off, her skirt neatly folded on the bed, her white blouse folded on top of that, her hair, a brown (ish) wig, left on the side, before being put away on a mannequin. Fake eyelashes taken off, together with her make up, fake boobs off, and his penis freed from the tight panties.

-It’s your turn now, - she said and looked in the mirror. As soon as those words left her mouth, Hendery appeared, straightened himself up, hearing a knock on the door.

-Boss, it’s me, can I come in? – Hendery walked over and opened the door. His right- hand man was there. Dante was the only person on DYVLONY who knew the ugly truth.

Hendery and Guanhee were the same person.

You sat in the waiting room, a bit nervous, of course. Passing an exam had felt easier than this. Palms sweaty, one of your legs kept shaking.

-Nothing to worry about, - you assured yourself, - it’s going to be just fine.

Mr. Tieger was signing papers, ready to greet you, and then sell you off. He knew today he would see Hendery, not his sister, he was sure of it, he will definitely be ready to bargain. Once Hendery see’s how you look like, Mr. Tieger might be in for a good money.

-Hello, miss Y/N, I am Mr. William Tieger, - he shook your hand, - shall we go now?

You nodded. He looked like a “decent” man. Mr. Tieger made sure you walked first, he checked out how you looked like from behind, all the curves in the right places, he will def be swimming in gold after tonight.

-Let’s make a d-tour, - he said, helping you in his car, and soon he had stopped in front of what looked like a very posh atelier. Walking in, he was greeted with two DYVLONY ladies.

-Hello ser, how can be of assistance today, - they said in unison.

-I need to dress her, - he leaned in, while you weren’t listening, - the sexier the better.

Both girls nodded. This was the most popular atelier for a lot of reasons, and the girls were ready for their task. Taking your measures, they went to work on your clothing straight away. Soon, you were wearing embroidered bralette, with matching pantie set, and attached stockings, down your legs. And for whatever reason, your last piece of clothing, a really flimsy looking dress was put on, you looked cheap.

-What is this? – you asked, - I am not wearing it! – you protested.

-You, - Mr. Tieger spoke, - my darling, won’t have a choice.

With that your world went black. One of the assistants had knocked you out, wearing a big smile on her face, even while tying you up. Mr. Tieger paid in cash, threw you over his shoulder, and left. Putting you in the booth of his car, for no one to see. He smiled to himself adding the last piece – a mouth cloth.

-Let’s make Hendery happy, - smacking your thigh with his hand, he closed the booth and drove off.

The warehouse looked as dead as ever. Henchmen stood in the front, guarding the twins, as Mr. Tieger pulled up. Stepping out, he gave the man a sheepish grin.

-I am here to speak with Hendery, I have something to offer, - this time, henchmen didn’t say anything, just opened the door to let him in. Mr. Tieger took you out from the back, and again, put you over his shoulder, bringing you in. Slowly walking closer, he noticed that the chair was turned around.

-Huang Guanheng, - he greeted, - good to see you here.

There was no response on the other side.

-I am here to bargain a little something, you might find of value, - he smiled, putting you down on the cold floor. He didn’t notice how “Hendery” crossed his legs, and his arms over his chest. – this is the alien; I think she might be to your liking.

The doors of the warehouse were now locked, no one could get in, and no one could get out. Somehow, you found yourself waking up, no sounds leaving your mouth, but a short breath. Startled by a strong grip on your jaw, your eyes stayed shut.

-What do you think? – Mr. Tieger’s smug face was back at it. The chair turned around and he gasped. – what the fuck?! – he shouted.

Looking back at him was Guanhee, wearing her best smile, she even winked towards him.

-I thought I warned you once, - she said, still sitting down.

-Where is Hendery, Guanhee? – Mr. Tieger asked.

-I don’t have to answer you, but if you must know, I take that as your dying wish. You really are something, - Guanhee said, - but no worries, soon I will gut you like a fish, and make sure everyone is watching.

-What??? – Mr. Tieger was angry, he came towards her in big striking steps. Once close enough, he was ready to grab Guanhee by her hair, and before he could react a knife was plunged in his lower abdomen.

-I did promise you, didn’t I? – she giggled as a crazy person, the knife was now used to cut Mr. Tieger open, knife stopping at his ribs, while blood gushed out of him. His knees hit the floor, and you opened your eyes. Startled to see what was going on, you had to get away. Easier said than done, with your arms tied behind your back, and your legs tied as well, the only movement you could do, is somewhat like a worm, inch by inch moving away, trying not to pay attention to someone dying in the background.

Guanhee watched as Mr. Tieger bled on the floor, her own clothing was dirtied by now, but she didn’t bother. Looking over she saw you trying to crawl away, and she smiled.

-Hey, - she shouted, and you stopped not knowing why you stopped. – I will give you ten second head start, say thank you Guanhee, - she clapped her hands.

Your eyes were bulging out of your scull now, ten seconds? No chance you’ll get anywhere, a sudden thought was in the back of your mind. “I will die now”, tears started streaming down your face as you kept on trying to move away.

-Ten, - Guanhee announced as she stepped closer, starting the count down. – Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

You heard her right by you when she said “one”, her hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your upper body upwards, making you even more uncomfortable. The bloody knife in front of your face, you started pleading for your life, even with your mouth filled with cloth, that was tied behind your head. You must have sounded terrible… because Guanhee let go of your hair. You landed on your face, hitting your forehead in the process.

-Give her a shower, - Guanhee mentioned with her hands, - then tie her up like normal.

-Yes ma’am, - henchman nodded.

Dragging you away for the “shower”, which in reality meant, ice cold water on your body, getting you rid of the clothes you wore. Cold and worn out from the cold shower blast, you didn’t struggle when your naked body was tied up by the wooden post. The only thing you could see was a chair, which was unoccupied for now.

Guanhee washed up, changed her clothes, looking in the mirror, she smiled to herself, putting on her glasses, she walked through the room and down the stairs.

She saw your naked form from the second floor and rubbed her palms together. Sitting on the chair, she watched you closely. You didn’t struggle, your mouth had tape over it, the only thing you did, you were weeping, trying to do it quietly.

Listen. You had seen crazy, while working at the hospital, there had been patients that had to be in the mental asylum, you had read too much about serial killers, how they disliked people crying, or, how it edged them on. So, you tried to calm yourself.

Guanhee stood up and walked closer.

-You do have a pretty face, though, - she started, taking your jaw in her hand, - I must say, Mr. Tieger was right, you could be of use, - she gave you a smile. Her hand let go of your face and then she grabbed your nipple. Pinching it, twisting it with her fingers. You didn’t know what to do, how to react, your body betrayed you well, heat pooling in your lower areas, the same as the hotness travelling to your face.

Then her lips enveloped the other nipple, she went full licking and sucking on your breast, and soon her hand was not only pinching the nipple but massaging the whole breast.

“Fuck no,” you thought to yourself, trying to get your body to cooperate with your mind, but it wouldn’t budge.

Then she swapped it over, her lips on the other of your breast peaks and the other twisting your other nipple. Her hot mouth was providing you with saliva, that you felt sliding down your torso, to your stomach.

-Guess my favorite color, - she spoke looking at you. You didn’t know what to say, and you couldn’t anyways, but still. Without a warning her hand was in between your legs, grabbing on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

Your breath hitched in your throat.

What was she doing?

-I will tell you, - she said as she got on her knees, you saw henchman approaching. Your legs got untied, and the henchmen were holding you up. Shame of nakedness like this was seen on your face. You were now legs apart, pussy on display, a single drop of your nectar gathered on your pussy lips. You looked everywhere else, but not down. Guanhee smacked your thigh to get your attention, it went to a shade of red after the second smack. – I love pink, - she announced while biting her lip.

Your heart was in your throat now, beating so fast, you weren’t ready for what Guanhee had in mind. Her tongue prodded pass her lips, and the tip of it touched your mound. She then gave you a test lick between your folds, swallowing your juices, slowly moving her tongue up and down until she reached your tight hole. She smiled. You saw her smile before she took of her glasses and her tongue went back to its job.

Her tongue dived in your tight hole, in and out, a little faster then and a little slower after, tears were threatening to fall down your face again. Not only a woman was going down on you, but it was also giving you a spark of pleasure. She sat back on her knees, bringing a hand to her face, licking a finger, before the same finger entered you, you shut your eyes.

She was exploring your vaginal walls, finding a soft spot, that made your legs quiver a bit, she continued to press on it more, and then her mouth attacked your clitoris. She sucked and licked, and she finger – fucked you, till you orgasmed, screaming through the tape, your legs shaking from pleasure. Intense waves of hot electric feeling went through all of you, goosebumps rising on your skin.

Guanhee stepped back, her face was covered in your cum, she licked her lips, wiping some of your cum on her hand so she could lick it off. She stood up.

-What a good girl, - she said, - coming on my face like that, hmm, I might just keep you.

With that she walked away. Soon your legs were down on the floor again, tied back up. Then the tape was pulled off, and you were given water by one of the henchmen. Chugging it down like it was your last meal, not knowing what’s going to happen after.

And for some reason, you drifted to sleep soon after that.

When you woke up, the sun was peeking through the windows. Once your eyes adjusted, your face turned straight to the chair. There was a figure sitting there. Looking at you was a man. Who looked just like the lady… Guanhee was her name, right? Uhm, what?

-Good morning, - he greeted, you nodded. If you were alive, it really was a good morning. – I am Hendery, you must have heard about me?

You nodded “no”.

-I see, - he laughed a bit, - you really are not from here, are you?

The more you looked at him, the more it seemed like you were tripping. Somewhere in your mind was a doubt. Alright, you have heard of identical twins, and all that, but so much common in looks on twins, it was a rare sight. And the doubt in your mind was saying, that something was not right.

-You look tired, - he said, - rough night?

You rolled your eyes at the comment. Hendery stood up and walked over.

-How about I untie you, give you some clothing and some soup? It can stay our secret, - he said, and you nodded. Soon after you were clothed and fed, and very thankful.

The next couple of days, you were allowed to move around in the warehouse and a bit outside at the back, mainly just sitting down at a wooden table with one of the henchmen to accompany you. You were thinking. The more you thought of a possibility that could be true, the more you started to agree that it really could be true.

Psychology had taught you well. Seeing the signs of un-healthy mind was easy for you to spot, those couple of months helping Doctor Vera, were paying off.

The next day, while outside eating breakfast, you were greeted by Guanhee.

-I thought I might see you here, - she said startling you, -my brother has treated you well, - she bit her cheek.

-At least he’s nice, - it came out harsher than expected. Guanhee grabbed your hair to turn your face to her, and smacked your cheek, left one first and then your other one. Then she pulled you up only to kick your legs, so you fell on your knees. She didn’t let go of your hair.

-Ah, - she said, - is this how we are going to play? Shall I tie you to the post again? – her eyes were filled with anger as she spat the words out, - starve you until you are nothing but a pile of bones for the wild wolves?

-No wonder everyone hates you, - you hit her weak spot with your sentence.

The cold shower was blasting at you again, you fell down, this time Guanhee was doing it herself, and to your surprise, she was stronger than she looked. Dragging you by your hair, this time she tied you, while you were on your knees. You ended up- legs wide opened, ass in the air, while your breasts were pressed at the wooden post.

She disappeared.

You didn’t even hear or see where she went, but you were left all by yourself, your eyes closing for a brief moment.

-My sister left you for me as a gift, - a voice spoke, waking you up from your slumber, it was Hendery. He was next to you, his hands stroking your sides, your stomach, then your ass cheeks, giving both of them a squeeze. – she knows how to make me happy, - he said.

His hand begin massaging your pussy, stroking your folds.

-Don’t do it, - you squeaked out, when Hendery’s hand touched your clitoris.

-And why not, - he smiled as he continued the assault on your cunt, - my sister already had a taste, I really want to try that too, - he pouted. – she always gets all the fun.

-I would rather suck your dick, - you spoke to stop him.

-Maybe another time, - you heard the zipper of his trousers, and then you felt his thick cock prod at your entrance. He moved his mushroom head up and down your folds, gathering the slick to cover his member. His hand softly touched your stomach as he was steadying himself. – breath in, baby-girl, - he whispered, licking on your ear, where he positioned his body.

His thick cock entered you only a couple of centimeters, you exhaled loudly with a moan. Slipping deeper, Hendery made sure to wait, till you got accustomed, inch by inch. Once completely sheathed inside of you, his balls where right at your bottom, he started a steady rhythm. It was followed by grunts and groans, and every thrust he gave you was as delicious as a desert after a meal.

Your walls were clamping down on him so hard, Hendery had to stop, to make you relax a bit more, and then he would get back to it. He knew you were close, the more your walls were sucking him deeper, the readier to orgasm you were. With a couple more thrusts you came, biting your lips, grabbing onto the wood. Hendery still worked to reach his high, and just before he could, you came again, and then he stilled, filling your abused cunt to the brim.

His arms around your body stayed like that for a while, the same as his lips licked your sweat from the back of your neck, down to your shoulder blades. Pulling out slowly, he earned a moan from you.

-Should I leave you like this? – he teased. – I think I will…

-Noo, - you protested, - I cannot feel my knees, - you said honestly.

So instead of leaving you like that, he turned you around, tied your back against the post, with his seed between your legs, making it impossible to move, the unpleasant feeling lingering there. He was smiling at you. The same smile Guanhee gave you. And he walked up the stairs and, in that room, where you had seen Guanhee disappear a couple of times, only to be greeted by Hendery the next day, or Guanhee a day after that.

And as you anticipated, you woke up with someone touching you, opening your eyes you saw Guanhee, licking her lips.

-Beautiful morning, isn’t it? – she asked, and you didn’t respond. – my brother had some fun, I see, - she licked her lips, - I can clean you up, if you’d like?

You nodded a “no”, and Guanhee stared at you, before leaving.

-I know who you are, - you shouted behind her, and Guanhee slowly walked back.

-And what is that?

You stayed quiet, till she was right in front of you. She stared down at you, grabbing your jaw in her hand.

-Hendery is you and you are Hendery, Guanhee doesn’t exist…- you said. – you are not real.

She slapped you.

-Are you afraid of the truth? – you asked. – you and I both know; this is not the way to live.

-Who are you? – she asked, grabbing you even harder.

-I can help you, - you said, - I can help you both, if only you’d let me…

The conclusion – split personality. This might be the scariest patient of all, but you were ready to use your knowledge to help as much as you could.

Guanhee stared at you, leaning in, and you felt something pressing onto your leg. Through her tight skirt, a visible boner was pressing through, her lips attacked yours.

-But before that, we can play a little…

#nct smut #nct fic #wayv smut #wayv fic #wayv #nct #wayv hendery #nct hendery #hendery #wayv huang guanheng #nct fanfic #wayv fan fic #kpop fan fiction #kpop fanfiction #dyvlony series

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boxoftheskyking · 3 years

Text

Pick Up Every Piece - Part One

Ok things to know: -this does not take place in China. It does not take place in the US. It is the year 2000 in a fictional country that I control (this project is a challenge called Let’s Do Exposition). Just go with it. -It’s all talking. That’s what I do, you know this. -Warnings for stuff, I dunno I haven’t written it all yet. When it’s shiny it’ll go on AO3 but for now here’s what I got so far. -There is a lot of alcohol in this fic -Like all fic writers I live on positive reinforcement and this shit is a lot of work. -The title may change, yes it is from NMH

---

There are bodies in the creek bed. Enough bodies to stop the flow of the water. Thirty at least, a dam of them. An old woman and a child. Clothes and hair sodden, darkened and wet. Clouds of darkness hovering in the air around them, seeping into dead flesh. An old woman and a child and others. Others in that middle age, the age that passes comment. Is it wrong that these two bodies stand out to him? After all, if he were among the bodies, if he was lying in this creek bed, thirty, skinny, and unremarkable, he would hardly notice himself. He’d blend into the pile, only serving to make the word a plural. Body becomes Bodies. Alters the language. Murder becomes Massacre. There are thirty bodies and hundreds, thousands of flies. Crawling on the back of the little boy’s hand. A smell like—not burning, not quite. Death. Not rot, fresh death. The sand under his feet is nearly dry. The creek bed is dry.

Wei Ying blinks. The creek burbles on alongside him, one duck lazily riding the current under a fallen branch and along to somewhere more interesting. It’s October, and beautiful, and there’s the smallest twilight bite in the air pricking at his nostrils on every inhale. He blows out a long breath and finds himself scratching at his arms, the backs of his hands, where the old scars are. They’re ugly, blotchy and dark like land masses on a faded old map, and they still itch sometimes. He rubs at them hard with the heel of his palm—it’s a weird half-feeling, the layers of dead tissue. It’s not dead, Wen Qing would correct him. It’s not necrotic, it’s just scarring.

He steps around the gnarled roots that reach up from the banks, trying to get to the road but not ever making it. There’s a few muddy stuffed bears tucked among them, plastic wrap snagged on the bark from cheap drugstore bunches of flowers that have rotted away. A couple of carefully hand-painted wooden signs nailed to the trunks, trying to convince the place that people still remember.

He shakes himself and turns away from the woods, hopping the fence onto the road that leads to the bar. He’s late, but Li Chen is always late in the mornings so he deserves to work an extra fifteen minutes. It’s not like there’s a manager to yell at him.

The bar is across the street from an old gas station, one that got firebombed during the war and then left. That’s the thing about Yiling. Everywhere else, even up in Gusu, the cities have gotten rid of as much evidence as possible. Well, they’ve gotten rid of most and turned the rest into memorials to the victorious dead, nice and shiny and flying the Sunshot flag. Nobody really cares about appearances around Yiling—maybe the city council does, but they don’t have anywhere near the budget to run cleanup. Too much actual infrastructure got hit during the worst of the fighting, and they’ll be years behind the rest of the country for the next decade or so. Memorials here are all handmade, and none of them last long.

There’s a flag, though, spray painted on what’s left of the concrete wall of the gas station. A golden hand covering most of a red sun, partly covered by black—one finger for each of the four leading clans and a thumb for everyone else. Typical. He’s not sure who’d have painted a Sunshot here. No one local, he’d put money on it. He supposes they know about spray paint in Lanling—governments must adapt.

It’s probably intentional, anyway, the lack of cleanup. The lack of progress. Nightless City can be repurposed by the Jin government, but the site of the Massacre should stay ugly and busted for a few more years. So no one forgets what it looks like to lose.

Wei Ying likes it in Yiling. “It’s my kind of town,” he always tells Jiang Cheng, who usually throws something at his head. “You want to be a bartender in a town like this. In a town like this, people need a bartender. It’s nice to be needed, you know.”

It’s a shitty bar by any other place’s standards, but for Yiling it’s cozy. The owner, who everyone just calls Granny, still orders sawdust for the floors like it’s 1860 or something, to soak up spills and puke and, occasionally, blood.

Jiang Cheng always says it’s only a matter of time before they have murder in the bar. “Manslaughter, at least,” he’ll say. “It’s just got that look.” Wei Ying says everyone in Yiling’s too tired. Mostly he and Wen Ning just roll drunks out onto the sidewalk and into a cab if someone can afford it.

Jiang Cheng himself comes in around eight. It’s as much of a rush as they ever get, so he has to wait for a few old men to get their cheap lager and gin before sliding up to the bar on his usual stool. Wen Ning gives him a cheerful salute as he comes in, and Jiang Cheng nods awkwardly back at him.

“You’re back early,” Wei Ying says, drawing him a pint of something bitter. Jiang Cheng still lives in Yunmeng, in the old family home, but he has a sublet in Yiling now that he’s working for the intelligence department. Jin Zixuan calls it “cutting his teeth” monitoring old Wen strongholds. Jiang Cheng calls it “shoveling shit.”

It turns out cleaning up a civil war is a pain in the ass, even five years later.

“We should do lunch with Wen Qing on Saturday. She’ll want to see you.”

Jiang Cheng pulls out his annoying little planner, full of his cramped handwriting and meetings with this informant and that police sergeant. “Have to be brunch, I’ve got a twelve-thirty on Saturday.”

Wei Ying snorts at him. “Brunch, in Yiling. Good luck.”

“Hangover breakfast, then.”

“That we can do.”

Jiang Cheng takes a long pull of his beer and Wei Ying can see the relief run down him from the crown of his head down over his shoulders like something hot and slippery. Oil maybe, or homemade noodles. He groans and drops his head down behind his glass.

“Hey, Wei Ying!” An arthritic hand waves at him from the other end of the bar.

“Gotcha, Riseung,” he calls and starts fishing for the kahlua and cream. It’s always at the back of the cooler; no one else ever orders it. “You’re gonna work yourself into an early grave,” he tosses back at Jiang Cheng.

“Not if you keep giving me beer.”

“Hey, Wei Ying, I saw that story last week. Hell of a thing.” Li Riseung has a little cream mustache, but Wei Ying’s not going to mention it.

“The gas thing?” Wei Ying grins at him. “Yeah, I’m telling you, it’s all connected. You watch the prices when Lanling tries to pass another referendum. It’s all supposed to soften you up. You got something for me today?”

“Still writing your conspiracy theories?” Jiang Cheng calls to him. “Some guys just don’t know when to quit.”

(Someone else comes up, he pulls a pint of stout.)

Riseung bristles. “Wei Ying is the only real journalist left in this country. You’ll see.”

Wei Ying props his chin on his folded hands and waits. Riseung takes another long sip. “Yu Xiuying’s got her popcorn maker up and running. She’s starting to sell what she can, make enough to get the theater back in order.”

“Really? That would be something. I’m sick of taking the train every time I want to see a movie.”

“You should report on that, get her some customers.”

Wei Ying drums his fingers on his chin. “Maybe we can work out an ad situation. I need more ads, you know. Papers ain’t cheap.”

Riseung finishes his drink, sets the glass down on the bar. He half-reaches for his pocket. “So, do I owe you, or . . .”

Wei Ying stifles a sigh. Technically it’s nothing he can use. He’s not about to publish an expose on popcorn. Still, he waves a hand. “Your money’s no good here. Go on, keep up the good work.”

The man grins up at him, flashing a row of silver fillings, and heads over to bother someone else.

(Another customer—rum and Coke.)

“You’re just letting people drink for free, huh?” Jiang Cheng says. Wei Ying wanders back over to him, taking a sip of his own drink (coffee, plus whiskey, just enough to get through the shift).

“Reporting is all about cultivating sources, Jiang Cheng, even you should know that. Li Riseung is a source.”

“A source,” Jiang Cheng mutters. “He’s a drunk.”

“So’s everyone. This whole country’s full of drunks. Drunks make the world go around.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “This city is fucking depressing.”

“Oh, and all of Lanling’s sober, is it? Yunmeng? Everybody’s living like Lans? You’d be much more pleasant with a few more of these in you.” Wei Ying grabs his pint glass and dumps the end of it out, refilling in the same smooth movement. It’s just out of spite. He shouldn’t be wasting a good few ounces of genuinely nice beer. But he can’t help it; Jiang Cheng brings it out in him. He spins and shimmies a bit to the bad pop song coming from the busted speaker above him and grabs a bin of limes to chop.

“When are you going to come home?”

Wei Ying doesn’t slip and cut himself, but it’s close.

“I live in Yiling, Jiang Cheng.”

“Yeah, for now.”

Wei Ying sighs. “I like it here, okay? You think they’d let me back in Yunmeng, after everything?”

“I’ve got influence now. They wouldn’t say anything.”

(Two lagers, shot of tequila.)

He hasn’t lived in Yunmeng in years. Almost a decade now. He was in Yunmeng at the start of everything, when Wen Ruohan was forced out of office and half the military went with him. He visits now, but there’s still that sense of before when he’s there, like the majority of his life hasn’t happened yet. But Jiang Cheng is never going to get that, he’s a linear person.

“Not saying anything isn’t the same as allowing. I’m not going to make you fight all day just so I can work at some bougie wine bar somewhere.”

“You wouldn’t have to work at a bar. You could—”

“What? Write? You think anyone anywhere is going to hire me at a paper again? Despite all the rumors, you’re not that dumb.”

“Fuck off. You could work with me.”

“Intelligence. Really? How do you think that would work out? ‘Yes, Jin Zixuan, whatever you say, Jin Zixuan—’”

“Fuck off.”

Wei Ying shakes his head and scrapes a pile of lime wedges back in the bin. “I like where I am. I’ve got the paper—”

“It’s not a paper.”

Wei Ying doesn’t slam the knife down, but it’s a close thing. “Jiang Cheng—”

“You’re such a fucking martyr. What, you lose your dream job so you go to the ass crack of the world and set yourself up as king of nowhere?”

“I’m not king of anything, I’m just writing.”

(Three glasses of white wine.)

“Yiling Laozu.” Jiang Cheng clicks his tongue. “I know you can’t use your real name, but that’s embarrassing. Laozu. You and your sources.”

Wei Ying takes a breath and unclenches his jaw. “If Wen Qing were here you wouldn’t be calling us embarrassing.”

“You’re embarrassing. She’s not embarrassing.”

“It’s our paper.”

“Wen Qing has dignity. You have none.”

Wei Ying gathers up his knife and cutting board to run them back to the dish pit. “Ah, Jiang Cheng, you love me. I know you do.”

It’s always a good way to end a conversation, their own private code. If you keep pushing here you’re going to break something. A warning. You love me. I know you do. Jiang Cheng doesn't ever deny it, but he never agrees either. He doesn't need to. Wei Ying has proof. The scars on the back of his hands, curling around his wrists and up his arms—burn scars, chemical burns—are proof. Jiang Cheng doesn't like to look at his hands. That's proof too.

When he comes back out, Jiang Cheng isn’t alone. The general noise of the bar has fallen to a murmur, and the rowdy game of dominoes is paused in the corner.

Xue Yang is sprawled over two stools, dressed in shiny black leather and grinning a few inches away from Jiang Cheng’s face.

“How’s it going, Captain Jiang?”

Jiang Cheng leans away. “I don’t see you. You are not here.”

“Course not. Good boy.”

Jiang Cheng’s hand tightens around his glass, and Wei Ying picks up the pace slightly.

“Leave him alone, Xue Yang,” he says, carefully mild.

The grin turns on him, and Xue Yang waves, his weird little black prosthesis sticking out like a lighting-struck tree. “You telling me what to do, Wei Ying?”

“I would never. Here, have a drink. If you want.” He pours him a double from his own secret bottle, the one Granny gave him on a good night in the summer. It’s painfully ironic—Xue Yang would be the only person in Yiling who could afford it if he ever actually paid for it.

Wei Ying nods to him and slides the glass across the bar, along with the usual brown envelope. Jiang Cheng sighs and spins around on his stool, looking away.

“Feels light,” Xue Yang says, like always.

“It’s not,” Wei Ying says, also like always.

Xue Yang grins around the little white stick hanging out of his mouth, and Wei Ying grins back. “Eight percent extra on anything you’re short next time.”

“It’s not short. And it’s five percent, don’t try to fuck with me.” Wei Ying smiles wider and does not blink.

“Maybe it’s changed.”

“Granny would tell me, and she wouldn’t hear it from you.”

“Maybe it’s changing today.” Xue Yang leans across the bar, not quite getting in his face, but close enough. Wei Ying meets Wen Ning’s eye over his shoulder. Wen Ning takes a few steps away from the door, but Wei Ying shakes his head just a fraction and he goes still.

“You don’t have the authority.” Wei Ying lets his grin go a little unnatural at the corners, a little bit of a snarl. “And it’s not short, so it doesn’t matter.”

Xue Yang laughs and tucks the envelope into his jacket, then takes a long swig. Wei Ying breathes, finally, quiet and careful.

“Xue Yang,” he says as he starts to wipe down the bar again. “You know you wound me.”

Xue Yang wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “Oh do I?”

“You know it hurts me, deep down in the soul parts of my body, to see you drink top shelf scotch with a fucking sucker in your mouth.”

Xue Yang sticks out his tongue so Wei Ying can see the little yellow nub of it. “It’s pineapple.”

“Great. Thank you. I’m going to go drink bleach now.”

Jiang Cheng half turns to glare at him. “That’s not fucking funny.”

Xue Yang chugs the rest of the scotch and tosses the empty glass at Wei Ying. He hates that it makes him flinch before he catches it. “Tell Granny I say hi.”

“Fuck off.”

“Hey, where’s the little one? Haven’t seen her in a minute.”

Wei Ying stiffens. “You’ll stay away from her if you cherish the rest of those fingers.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Xue Yang gives him a mocking salute and saunters back out towards the door. He’s nearly out when he knocks into an empty chair, sending it to the floor with a crack like a gunshot. No one hits the deck completely, but the held-breath silence turns into a gasp as all eyes snap to the sound, shoulders up and hands braced on tabletops, thighs tensed and ready to run.

Even Xue Yang is frozen at the door for a second. He laughs, though his jaw is tight. “Just a chair, ladies and gentlemen. Clean this shit up, Wen Ning.” And he’s gone.

Wei Ying deflates, adding some of the good scotch to his own cup. Jiang Cheng makes a face.

“How’s that coffee?”

“Shut up.”

“You should let me talk to Zixuan.”

“You talk to him every day.”

“You know what I mean. How long have you been paying—”

Wei Ying sighs and flicks his rag at his brother. “Thing one: I don’t pay, Granny pays. Thing two: Xue Yang is just a low level street thug with connections, he’s as in charge of the operation as I am in charge of Yiling. Thing three: it all kicks up to the Jins at the end of the day, so what are they gonna do about it?”

“Zixuan isn’t—”

“Yeah, I know your best pal is the paragon of morality.”

(Scotch and soda, root beer, gin and tonic, and three pints.)

“He’s our brother-in-law.”

“And your brother-in-arms, I know, I’d never dare disparage the mighty—”

“He’s a nicer brother than you are.”

Wei Ying mimes a faint. “I’m going to call Shijie, tell her you’re being mean to me.”

Jiang Cheng goes quiet, looks down at his beer. Wei Ying reaches out for it, an offering.

“Another?”

Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “I shouldn’t.” A chunk of his hair comes loose from its tie, feathers across his forehead.

“When are you gonna cut that hair, huh?” Wei Ying flicks it back over his ear. Jiang Cheng swipes at his hand lazily.

“I like it like this.”

“You and Zixuan are twins now, huh? You cultivators. Does Lan Zhan still keep his long, do you think?”

“Dunno. Haven’t seen him in a long time. Stop it, leave it, I have it how I want it.”

Wei Ying laughs at him. “Looks good. Dignified. Hey, did you ever ask for Zidian back?”

Jiang Cheng’s face does something complicated, a little bitter. “Not gonna happen. No spiritual weapons are gonna be authorized any time soon.”

“Yeah, but it’s yours.”

“It’s not mine. It’s the government’s.”

“But it responds to you. What good does it do locked away in—”

“Leave it, Wei Ying. I know you’ve got opinions about cultivation, but I’m fucking tired and it’s not going to change anything.”

“Well, when you’re in charge. Then you’ll show ‘em.”

That does make Jiang Cheng laugh, which is satisfying.

(Two gin and tonics.)

“Hey, you’re not allowed—” Wen Ning calls from the door, followed by the tap-tap of a metal cane. Wei Ying sighs and reaches for the grenadine.

“Wei Ying, you son of a bitch.” The voice is high, reedy, and cackling. “How the hell are ya?”

“A-Qing,” Wei Ying calls mildly. “You can’t be here.”

“Where is here?” she yells, as always. “How am I supposed to know that? Can’t you tell I’m blind?”

“Get out of my bar.”

“Discrimination!” She makes her way across the room, purposely bumping into every occupied table on her way over, just to slosh beer onto the floor.

“You’re fourteen.” He has her cherry soda on the bar by the time she hops up on the stool next to Jiang Cheng, ignoring him entirely.

“And how do you know that, creepy old man?”

“You made me get you a cake for your birthday, you goblin.”

“Who’s this guy?” She takes a long slurping suck from her straw.

“My didi.”

“You—!” Jiang Cheng hates it, which is the only reason Wei Ying says it.

“Ooh, the famous Jiang Cheng. I bet he looks real grumpy.”

“Yep.”

Jiang Cheng flips him off. He grins and goes back to wiping down the drain.

“He just flipped you off, didn’t he?”

“Yep.”

“Nice.” She finishes her drink and slams the glass down. “Double vodka please.”

“Nope.”

“I drink vodka all the time.”

“Don’t care. I’m not getting fired over your sorry ass. Go drink at home.”

“I’m not allowed vodka at the home.”

“And you’re not allowed here either.” He drops the rag back into the sanitizer and leans his elbows on the bar. “Now, are you here with something interesting or just to pester me?”

Jiang Cheng looks like he’s about to interject, but Wei Ying waves him off.

“I can multitask,” A-Qing says before pushing her glass back across the bar. “More sugar first.”

“Diabetes on the rocks, yes madam.”

She takes a long slurping pull, and he folds his arms, waiting.

“Got a new TV at the home. Real big one.”

“A-Qing, I’m waiting.”

Jiang Cheng squints at her. “How do you know how big the TV is?”

“I just know, okay. Anyway. One of the older kids got it. Bought it himself.”

“Yeah, right,” Wei Ying says. He needs to challenge her if she’s going to give him the whole story. If he seems too interested she’ll draw it out just to fuck with him.

“He did. Wen Changming.”

“A Wen?” Jiang Cheng asks.

Wei Ying rolls his eyes. “Lots of Wens in the children’s home. I wonder why.”

Jiang Cheng makes a sour face at him.

“He’s got cash to burn, suddenly. Pockets full.”

“Gee, I wonder how you found that out.”

A-Qing grins at him. “He’s not gonna miss it. He’s in the club now.”

“The club?”

“You know, the club. What do you call it? Do crimes, get money.”

“Mob? Syndicate? Criminal organization?” Jiang Cheng offers.

“So they’re recruiting at the home, that’s what you’re telling me? Is it Xue Yang?”

A-Qing blows bubbles in her soda. “I don’t know, maybe.”

“Must be desperate.”

“You do the same thing.”

“I do not.”

She holds out a hand. He sighs and passes over a couple of bills.

“You staying there tonight?” he asks, all casual.

“Maybe. The girls are annoying. Should be nice outside.”

“Starting to get cold.”

“Not really. Only if you’re a pussy.”

“You call me if you need to crash. Here.” He drops a couple of coins in front of her. “I’ll be home after midnight.”

“Sure thing, boss,” she says, pocketing the change. She gives a little salute and hops off her stool. “So long, Wen Ning!” she shouts, walking right at him and making him hop out of the way.

She’s not really blind, of course. Wei Ying’s never brought it up—he knows, but he’s not sure she knows that he knows. One of the nights she crashed at his apartment, months ago, he caught her reading through one of his binders of old clippings—‘91, back before the start of the war, when he was still in Gusu. It kind of kills him, because he wants to ask her what she thought of them. What she remembers from back then, if there’s anything. But they don’t talk about anything serious, not if they can help it.

“Please tell me you don’t have a teenage girl staying at your place,” Jiang Cheng says. Wei Ying gives him a great sigh and grabs his rag again.

“Only when she's got no other place to go. Oh, I have a futon now! You’d see it if you ever came over.”

“Wow, great, you're thirty years old and you have a secondhand futon. Mother would be so proud.”

“I didn't say it was secondhand.”

“Wei Ying, trust me, you do not need to.”

(Four pints.)

Wei Ying makes a face at him. “So mean.”

“It’s weird that she stays with you.”

Wei Wuxian sighs again. “Jiang Cheng.”

“It is. It’s weird.”

“If it’s a bad night at the home then she sleeps outside. I don’t like her sleeping outside, so she stays with me. When she’s not being ornery.”

“She’s a teenage girl.”

“She’s a baby.”

“Not your baby. Why would she sleep outside anyway? Yiling sucks.”

“The home sucks. Look, it’s an orphan thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

Jiang Cheng pouts. “Hey, I’m an orphan.”

“No you’re not, you’re a grown up.”

(Whiskey, neat.)

“You’re a grownup. My parents are dead; I’m an orphan.”

“Then everyone’s a fucking orphan in this country. The word’s lost all meaning. From now on, if your parents were alive when you were ten, you’re not an orphan. Find a new word, leave ours alone.”

“You’re such a jackass.”

“Jackass! Yes, that’s a good word.”

Jiang Cheng sighs and gets off his stool. He tosses cash down on the bar, though Wei Ying tries to wave him off.

“Oh, you’re going to want to get a flag up in here,” he says, off-hand as he turns to go.

Wei Ying freezes. “Excuse me?”

“Coming down from on high, it’s going to be a new ordinance. To keep the liquor license.”

“The fuck does a flag have to do with our liquor license?”

Jiang Cheng holds up his hands. “I’m just the messenger.”

“I’m not letting the Sunshot flag through these doors.”

Jiang Cheng turns back to him, serious. “Look, I know you have your own . . . feelings—”

“Feelings?” he almost spits, spreading his hands out on the bar.

Jiang Cheng winces and does not look at them. “You have your reasons, I’m not arguing that. But Yiling’s a part of the Republic and people need to get used to it. You don’t have to like it, but your district rep is going to announce the policy in the next week, and I don’t want to see you— Don’t go out of your way to make life difficult, all right? It’s hard enough already.”

Wei Ying says nothing, just leans back and watches the rag twist and untwist between his hands.

“See you Saturday,” Jiang Cheng offers, hesitates, then leaves.

Wei Ying will close up. They close early, still, kick everyone out before midnight. Old habits. He’ll go home and work on his column, the one corner of the paper Wen Qing leaves for whatever he wants. (Literally, the column is called “Whatever.”) Maybe A-Qing will find a pay phone and call him, if she hasn’t spent or hidden the change, or maybe she’ll just show up and lean on the buzzer until he lets her in. He’ll sleep better, if she’s there. He was never meant to live alone.

And he’ll wake up tomorrow, and try to do it all again.

Part Two

#the untamed #cql #assorted writings #pick up every piece

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