#and the theme tune is pretty sick
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━━━━━━━━ what will you give me? what will you sacrifice for me? do you really love me?
pairings ━━━━━━━━ yan! scaramouche x gn! reader. modern au, scara’s crazy but he genuinely loves you, reader may be pretty but they are not nice, they are in fact a horrible person. scara is just a name he goes by, he’s actually named kuni, reader also has jealousy issues and they are not mentally well.
content warning ━━━━━━━━ dark themes, murder, manipulation, kidnapping, gaslighting, drugging (or smthing), reader likes teasing people and drugging people, also there’s suggestive themes but its only brief.
just stay by my side until i start to disgust you; even if it’s stupid, this won’t happen again, and i just want to live in the moment, that’s all. your stupid smile you would give him when you passed eachother in the hall.
your enthusiastic passion towards greeting new students even if he would get jealous and possessive, your teasing nature when the both of you would hang out and later on, getting an erection (relieving it later).
you were aware of his acts and frankly, you were intrigued by him. no one in your entire life has wanted to go the beyonds to be with you and only have him as your ideal lover.
sure, you had multiple guys and girls confess their love to you (and then they would go missing the other day), it bored you every time. you wanted something different, you wanted him.
you were deprived from the rights and wrongs of love, deprived in every having a loving figure in your life but when scara broke in your dorm and attempted to kiss you, it affected you in a lovesick, twisted way.
you spotted scara in his regular spot, airpods plugged in (even thought they’re dead), staring through the window and head plopped onto the palm of his hand.
smiling, you walked up to him, hands behind your back as you hugged him from behind, scaring him. you giggled when he jolted back and made eye contact with you before you buried your face into his neck.
small touches from you sent scara into heaven and he genuinely thought you would ignore him when he barged into your dorm but you didn’t. you acted the same towards him but more affectionate.
did you feel the same for him? he thought, ignoring the stares both of you got from your peers, seemingly making bets if you two were together or not.
you stayed in that position before your mouth was placed lightly against his ear, a sweet and soft tone that had a sick twist behind it that only a person who has the same mindset as scara would pick up.
“let’s talk until our tongues go dry.” you left a small kiss that lasted forever to him before sitting down in your seat that was right infront of him.
your voice repeated in his head like a parody, the dazed look on his face was imprinted to you immediately. you knew the effects you had on him and you used it to your advantage.
by the time class was over, scara had an horrible erection that you caused and was responsible for making him leave class to relieve himself as you sat there with a sly grin.
a few classmates were worried, coming up to you and asked why since you were the last one to talk to him and you excused them by saying; “he’s probably unwell, no need to be concerned.” with a charming smile at the end knowing he was probably jerking off to you.
and you took pride in that.
knowing you were the only person to make him feel that way with a simple smile, laugh, touch, and small kisses and teases to him. it was enjoyable.
he came back to class with his hair sticking to his forehead and flustered. his friends came up to him wondering why his state was like that and why he ran out of class, shooting you a small look as you smiled at him.
meet me at the bathroom, cutie. you mouthed at him, packing your stuff up and leaving the class, feeling his eyes following your every move, tuning out the conversation his friends started.
he excused himself again with a stern tone and followed after you, seeing as you waited beside the door knowing he would come either way making you grab his hand and drag him to the bathroom.
shoving him into a stall and pushing him back onto the door, hands placed cheekily on his chest with a smile that was not innocent in his eyes.
“i thought you hated me.” he breathed out, staring at you with heart eyes and cheeks flushed, “how could i?” you responded as you leaned in closer, hands moving up to his cheeks.
his hands placed neatly around your waist, “do you really want to be with me? i can be dangerous.” you smirked and pulled your mouth next to his ear.
“i like them a little dangerous and crazy.” you pulled away before getting something out of your bag; it was a drink to which you popped it opened, drank it and forced your mouth onto his, letting the liquid into his mouth and drip down your chins.
you pulled away, a string of saliva still connected to the both of you as scara looked embarrassed and dazed. “you look cute in this state.” you purred with a hand caressing his cheek, waiting for the effects to kick in.
and it for sure did.
you saw his body go fatigued and slowly lose consciousness as he fell into your embrace and your soft praises, being so close to you made scara hot and flustered, hearing the small praises that he dreamed of hearing.
and being drugged by you was a so attractive he felt so good. he wiggled and whined in your embrace, lowering yours and his body to the ground, an obsessive look in your eyes.
“you’ll be okay, scara.” “kuni. it’s kuni.” you smiled at how much he was submitting to you, and only you. “it’ll be over soon, kuni.”
you placed a warm kiss on his forehead, backing up and watching him fade out of unconsciousness and sleep in your arms until school was over.
“you’re mine, only mine.”
#kaz. 💫#yandere genshin impact#yandere scaramouche#yandere scaramouche x reader#yandere reader#scaramouche#kunikuzushi#yandere scaramouche x yandere reader#two creeps in love 🙏#yandere#genshin impact x reader#scaramouche smut#scaramouche x reader smut#drugging
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Our Final Night Alive | Jake Seresin x virgin Reader (18+)
Synopsis: Reader is having a really hard time the night before a particularly scary mission, Jake shows his true colours and stands by her side.
Warnings: smut, angst, themes of loss / grief and fear
Please DNI if you’re a minor!!
…
“You’re gonna have to write me some kind of manual,” Jake muses as he puts an olive between his teeth and bites down on it. You raise an eyebrow at him, waiting for the explanation that will inevitably accompany this request. “On abstinence, I mean. I have no idea how you do it.”
You roll your eyes and look back down at your drink, stirring it with your straw. You rarely dignify Jake’s allusions to your sex-life (or lack of) with a response.
It’s the night before deployment. He should be with the others, drinking and revelling in their last moments of guaranteed safety. You should be with them too. They’re gathered around the piano, singing melancholy lyrics to an upbeat tune. But, Jake’s here with you, in a booth at the back of the Hard Deck.
You’ve always struggled with the night before deployment. Maybe it’s the distance — deep down you know that it’s the not knowing. Even if you knew that this deployment would be your last, you just would rather know. It’s the fear of not coming home, or of coming home without the people you’re closest to in the world.
This mission isn’t simple. It’s going to be a miracle if everyone makes it back alive. It’s practically a suicide mission. And you’re team leader.
You turn your head to look at them all. Rooster’s cheeks are flushed warm and red, he’s grinning as Javy drums on the top of the piano. They’re all singing, but Fanboy is laughing so hard he can barely get the words out. Something that Bob had whispered to him moments earlier that he just can’t get over.
It feels like you’re watching them in slow motion. Just looking them over, seeing the flush of life — of joy — in their faces.
The thought of having to explain to one of their families why their loved one isn’t here anymore makes you feel sick.
“Come on, you’re not gonna bite?” Jake teases, drawing you back to reality. You turn your head back toward him. “You always bite when I joke about your virtue.”
You pick up one of the olives and throw it at his face, your lips quirking slightly as it bounces off of his cheek and rolls onto the floor.
Jake grins at the small but certain success of finally getting you to smile. Even if it’s at his expense.
The relationship you have with Hangman is complicated. It started off as hatred. You hated his stupid Ken-doll looks, his smug remarks and his reckless abandon when flying. Then it became rivalry. All about being the best. The best at flying, at schmoozing Admirals, about your planes being up to standard.
Somewhere in between, it had almost become a friendship.
You still don’t quite get him. You don’t always get his need to make a joke of things. He doesn’t always get your need to worry. There are days when Maverick would just want to knock your heads together to get you to quit bickering. And then there are days that the two of you were as thick as thieves.
That is, when he isn’t joking about your ‘virtue’, for lack of a better word. Three months ago, thanks to a slip up from your high school best friend when she was in town, Jake had discovered that you hadn’t yet had sex. Since then, he had used every given opportunity to bring it up in some way or another. He was perplexed by it.
You understood the confusion. You were an adult. A pilot. You had a successful career and a pretty face. Jake had been guessing at why exactly you hadn’t had sex — but he had been miles from the truth with each guess he had made.
It wasn’t like you hadn’t had ample opportunity through your life. There had been plenty of men who would have been more than happy to become a notch in your unscathed bedpost. But it just wasn’t that simple.
“Really though, I’m about to spend the next week sleeping in a bunk below Rooster,” Hangman took a sip of his beer and looked past you at the piano, shaking his head disapprovingly, yet smiling. “Don’t exactly want to wake up hard and the first thing I see is that fucking moustache. Y’know?”
You smile slightly as you take a long drink. Jake always has such a way with words. Your thought makes you laugh slightly. Jake’s smile widens, he thinks he’s cheered you up a little.
“So, what do you do? — to stop yourself from thinking about sex?”
“Can’t miss something you haven’t had.” You answer him simply, smiling as he rolls his eyes at you. He looks particularly perfect tonight, annoyingly. The night before deployment, everyone’s in their dress whites. You know Jake secretly loves wearing them. Why wouldn’t he? — He looks like he was born to be in them.
“C’mon, I know you get horny like the rest of us.” Jake squints his eyes at you, gauging your reaction for any hint of agreement.
“Sure, sometimes.” You watch his eyes light up. He’s right. You’ve just admitted he’s right, maybe for the first time ever. It makes you laugh, the excitement on his face.
“I was starting to think you’d never admit it.” He grins. “So, bestow your wisdom upon me, Ace.”
You shake your head at him and take another drink, “No wisdom. Just more self-control than you have, I guess.” Jake chuckles against the rim of his beer bottle.
You turn your head as something smashes across the bar. Just a drunk patron knocking a glass off of a table. But then something else catches your eye. Maverick and Penny standing together outside. They’re staring at the waves, her hand gripping his tightly.
You watch them just standing together.
You don’t even notice Jake following your gaze, once he realises that you aren’t listening to a word he is saying. His brows scrunch slightly as he looks them over, then looks back to you. It’s been years now, and he still doesn’t have you figured out.
Each time he thinks he’s getting close, something else comes up, always keeping him an arms length from really knowing you.
“Ace?” You barely hear him. It’s like you’re dreaming and he’s trying to wake you up. Mav and Penny aren’t even doing anything, they’re just standing together, but you can’t make yourself look away. “Ace? — You okay?”
His fingers curl around yours, startling you. You look back to him and let out a breath. He’s concerned, features hardened as he looks at you, waiting for some kind of answer.
It’s then that you notice the tears that have brimmed in your eyes.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” His voice is soft as he squeezes your hand in his. Your brows furrow slightly as you quickly wipe the tears from your eyes. You know you must look ridiculous if he’s worried for you and not making jokes.
You shake your head quickly and sniffle, “It’s just been a long day. I think I’m gonna go home, get some rest.”
Jake’s lips part, brows knotting even further in confusion as you begin to slide out of the booth.
“Wha — wait, Ace, what the fuck?”
You hear him behind you but the pounding in your chest keeps you moving. You leave out of the side entrance, not wanting to interrupt Mav and Penny on the beach. The door takes a few extra seconds to slam after you’re out of it, confirming that Jake is still following you. You curse under your breath.
“Will you wait up?” He calls to you.
You make it to your car before you realise that your keys are still inside, along with your bag.
“Fuck!” You kick the tyre. Jake reaches you and puts his hand on your shoulder, turning you to look at him, baffled at your behaviour.
“D’you want to tell me what’s going on?” He breathes, shaking his head slightly as he looks you over. You shake him off of you and kick the car door,
“I left my fucking keys inside.”
Jake knows how much you love that car. You once threatened to shave his head for hitting it with his duffel bag on accident when you had picked him up for the airport. Yet, here you are leaving a mark in its pristine white paint job with the bottom of your shoe.
You turn and look back towards the bar. At your friends. You can’t bare to go back in there and be amongst all those smiling faces. Jake looks between your and the Hard Deck, still completely lost.
“Well, alright — stay here, okay? — I’m gonna be right back.” Jake starts towards the door you had both just exited through, “Don’t move.”
You fall back against the car, trying to regulate your breathing as Jake takes off inside. He’s only gone for a few seconds. As he returns, he sees you staring at the stars. There are tears rolling silently down your cheeks.
He stops in the doorway and observes. Jake has seen you take bird strikes, upwards of 7G’s and even a fractured eye socket without so much as a whimper. He’s never seen you cry before.
You hear his shoes on the ground and try to compose yourself. He’s standing beside you by the time you’re wiping the tears from your cheeks, taking in shaking breaths.
“Look, Ace,” He’s not looking at you. He’s staring down at the ground between your shoes. You appreciate that. “Why don’t you let me drive you home? — I’ve had like half a beer, I’m happy to do it.”
Just that afternoon, you had threatened to break Hangman’s hand if he considered touching the wheel of this car. Yet, you nod now. You let him open the passenger side and you let him take the driver’s seat.
In another circumstances, Jake would’ve been grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He has been bugging you to let him take this thing for a spin since you had got it. A pristine condition white 1962 Corvette convertible. Now, he admires it silently as he takes the wheel.
You turn the radio on, just so that he doesn’t have to listen to the sound of you sniffling as he drives you back to your place. You’re pissed that you’re in such a mess in front of Hangman, of all people. Something in his demeanour tells you that he won’t tell anyone about this, though.
As he pulls up outside of your apartment, it’s clear that there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s coming inside. You resent it slightly as the two of you walk up to your front door — the fact that he feels that you shouldn’t be alone.
“Look, I’m just probably gonna,” You pause and sniffle as Jake turns the key in the front door, “Just gonna take a shower and head to bed.”
Jake nods, then opens the door for you, “Alright. Well, I’m gonna hang out in the living room for a bit… if you wanted to talk or anything.”
You don’t argue, leaving him to it as you brush past him and walk straight to the bathroom. Jake’s brows furrow slightly as he watches the enigma that is his co-worker head down the hall.
He shuts the door behind him, locks up. He grabs himself a beer from the fridge, figuring he’s probably going to spend the night on your couch. He settles in, kicking his feet up on the coffee table in your absence, watching Ice Road Truckers.
He listens to the water turn on three minutes into his first episode. Makes sense, you had to get completely out of your dress whites and also out of that slicked back, Navy-Mandated, bun.
He isn’t paying much attention to the television. Jake’s thinking the night over as he nurses his beer. He wonders what it is about seeing Maverick and Penny just holding hands that was enough to make you freak out like that.
He considers for a moment that maybe you’re in love with Maverick, but then rules that out.
It’s not until a few minutes in to the second episode that Jake thinks to check his watch and realises it’s been forty-five minutes since you got in. Having three sisters, Jake knows that girls can take their time in the shower — but he doesn’t feel right about you taking so long. He sets the beer down on the coffee table and pushes himself up, heading towards the bathroom.
“Ace?” He knocks softly at the door and waits twenty seconds for an answer before he knocks and calls your name again. “Ace, you okay?”
He gives you longer to respond that time.
“Ace, you’ve got three seconds to answer me or I’m coming in.”
He waits five seconds, just in case you’re doing this to be difficult. Then, he turns the handle and lets himself in.
“I’m fine.” You sniffle from behind the shower curtain. Jake sighs in relief. He steps into the room and sits on the floor, his back resting against the side of the tub, “Don’t scare me like that.” He chastises.
You’re standing under the stream of borderline too hot water, exactly like you have been since you washed your conditioner out thirty minutes ago. You consider what he’s just said. Then you consider the fact that he’s sitting on your bathroom floor and that the only thing separating him from your naked body is the shower curtain.
It doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Oddly, you do feel a little better with him here.
“Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on? — because you’re freaking me out.” Hangman bends his knees and rests his forearms on them, shaking his head slightly.
You rest your forehead against the tile. He waits for a while in silence. The lump in your throat is back. You’ve been crying for thirty minutes, and questions like that make you just want to start all over again. Jake listens to you take a shaking breath behind the curtain.
“My mom died.”
His features contort, confused to the point that you can almost hear his expression when he asks, “What?”
You swallow a sob, wiping the water and tears from your face as you try to regulate your breath. “When I was a kid. She was a cop, she died on duty.”
Jake closes his eyes as he realises what an asshole he’s been.
“It ruined my dad’s life. Seeing him like that-“ You don’t finish your sentence but he knows what you mean. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the lump in your throat.
Jake thinks of all of the time he has spent over the last three months joking, teasing you and making guesses as to why you had never had sex. He wishes you had just hit him or something.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is gentle. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him be serious for this long before. He is sorry. He’s sorry for all of it all at once.
You aren’t sure what makes you do it, but you turn off the water and pull back the curtain. Jake doesn’t really even have time to respond before you’ve dropped yourself into his lap and thrown yourself against his chest. His arms wrap around you instinctively as you bury your face in the crook of his neck.
“Hey,” He trails his fingertips along the length of your bare spine, bringing his other hand to cup the back of your head, holding you against him. “It’s okay.”
You’re trembling against him as he holds you.
“I’ve never wanted to let anyone close, but—” Your voice is half muffled by his shoulder, but he can still hear you, even through your cracking voice. “Fuck, aren’t you scared of dying alone?”
He wraps his arm around your waist and holds you closer, his features serious. “You’re not going to die, Ace.”
It feels like his arms around you, his heart beating against yours, are the only things keeping you grounded in reality right now. You grab the back of his neck, pulling yourself closer against him, “You don’t know that, no one does.”
Jake brushes your hair back off of your shoulders, not caring that you’re soaking wet, “I know that. You know me, I’m right about everything.” He squeezes you in his arms.
“I’m so scared of never loving anyone like he loved her,” You whisper. “I’m even more scared of loving someone like that and losing them again. Or them losing me. How could I put someone through that?”
He turns his head and kisses your temple, “Letting someone love you is scary stuff.” He agrees softly. His fingers brush softly along the your back.
“But,” He breathes, “You’re the best pilot I know. Besides me. Nothing bad is going to happen if you let someone in.”
You pull back to look him in the eye, your cheeks tear-stained and blotchy. He wipes your cheeks with his thumbs, holding your face in his hands.
“You can’t be sure of that.” Your voice cracks slightly.
He shakes his head, “No one knows when it’s gonna happen. There’s more chance of you getting eaten by a shark than something going wrong on a mission, you’re incredible up there. When have you ever let being scared of something hold you back before?”
You look him over, wondering where Hangman went, and why you hadn’t been looking at Jake all along. Jake with three sisters and a mother who he respected more than he respected the Navy itself. Jake who is here, now, when he should’ve been drinking with his buddies.
It happens quickly. You have no idea what you’re thinking, but you just do it. You lean forward and press your lips to his, his hands still holding your jaw as he lets you move in.
It’s when you pull back from the kiss, both of your eyes equally wide, that it occurs to you that you’re naked. You glance down, then back up, finding that his eyes have dropped to also look you over.
“Ace,” Jake swallows, shaking his head, “I’m sorry. I- We shouldn’t.”
“Please.” You say it without meaning to. You press your palms against his chest and shift, swinging one leg over his hip. He stares at you, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind all at once.
You make the decision for him as you lean forwards again and kiss him. He relaxes against you, sliding his hands down to hold your waist. You’re not surprised that he’s a good kisser, you know he’s had a lot of practice.
It should feel weird. Doing this. With Jake, of all people. But you don’t find yourself minding at all. You push your fingers up into his hair, humming as he slips his tongue into your mouth.
You feel his hands begin to wander. His hands slide down over the curve of your ass as his hips rock forward against yours.
“Take me to bed.” You murmur against his lips.
He hesitates, eyes closed as you lower your head and press your lips softly against the length of his neck — what’s visible of it over his white collar, anyway. You leave a few kisses along his throat, feeling his hands squeeze softly against your ass.
Then, against his better judgement, he stands. Jake guides your legs around his waist as he does so, pressing his lips to yours softly and then carrying you to your room. He’s been here before a few times. You live close to base, so you have your friends over when you can.
He doesn’t let you go as he lowers you onto your mattress and covers your body with his, brushing your hair back gently off of your face. You taste the beer on his tongue, you smell the soft cologne on his neck, you feel his hands on your skin. You’re here with him.
Your fingers find the golden top button of his jacket and pop it open as he kisses your neck. You hum softly, pushing your head back against the mattress as his lips work against you.
He’s settled between your legs. He lets you unbutton his jacket, but it’s as he’s shrugging it off of his shoulders that he pulls back and looks at you with concern.
“Ace — are you sure you wanna do this?”
“Please, Jake.” You whisper.
It’s now, that he’s on his knees between your legs, that he takes a moment to look admire what’s before him. You watch him, your heart thundering out of your chest as he reaches out and trails his fingertips along the centre of your body, from your collarbones to your pelvis.
“You’re so beautiful,” Jake murmurs, stroking softly along your thighs. “Can I touch you?”
You know what he means. His eyes fall shamelessly to look at your core. Part of you wants to press your legs together and kick him out. But, you nod.
If feels almost ridiculous, that he’s completely dressed before you and you’ve been naked in front of him for a while now.
But, as he moves forwards and captures your lips in a soft, borderline romantic, kiss — it’s all forgotten. You tense slightly as you feel his fingers move between your legs, but Jake knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t move too fast. He spends a moment just teasing his fingers along your folds until you subconsciously part your legs a little further for him.
“That’s it, baby.” He coos, and the reaction your body has to that is surprising to both of you. It’s like he can feel when you relax into him. Jake’s middle finger finds your clit as he kisses your shoulder. Then he kisses your chest, your collarbones.
He works his way down, just gently grazing his fingertip in circles over your clit. He’s barely applying any pressure at all, yet you’re whimpering softly.
It’s when his hips roll forward as he’s leaving open-mouthed kisses on your chest that you find that he’s rock hard. You hips push eagerly against his hand.
Jake can’t help it. The girl that he’s been obsessed with for months literally fell into his lap tonight, and naked too. You watch as he adjusts himself over his pants, his cock straining uncomfortably against the white material.
He applies some pressure between your legs finally, groaning softly as he massages your breast with his other hand. You jolt slightly as his tongue dances across your hardened nipple.
“Jake…” You breathe out, lips parting as you’re met with concerned blue eyes. He stops, worried he’s done something wrong. You push yourself up and kiss him, confirming that you’re whispering his name for all of the right reasons.
Spurred on, Jake slides his finger down and presses it into you. You’re half-distracted by his tongue caressing yours, so you’re surprised when you moan against his lips.
“I’ll take care of you, baby, don’t you worry.” He promises, watching your features as he slides a second finger into you. You swallow hard, then whine, pushing your hips against his hand.
He takes his bottom lip between his teeth as he curls his fingers gently inside of you, his eyes focused on yours. Your arousal coats his fingers, you arch yourself up into him slightly.
He works you open for him, eyes on you the entire time. Your eyes are closed. You don’t see the way that he studies you, observes your sensitivities. You don’t see the list in those ice-cold eyes as he brings you to an orgasm with just his fingers, his thumb grazing softly over your clit.
You’re hurrying him out of his clothes next. It’s all so desperate. You’ve seen Jake’s body before, he’s constantly wearing shorts and flexing his muscles. But, as he slides out of his boxers and kneels before you in nothing but his dog tags, you’re reminded that this is one of your closest friends in front of you now.
You swallow hard. His delicate touch makes it hard to believe that him and the guy you had wanted to punch so many times are the same person. He covers your body with his flawlessly tanned and muscled form, kissing your lips sweetly and brushing some hair back from your face.
“You’re sure?” He whispers, rock hard against your thigh. You nod at him feverishly, skimming your fingertips along his sides, pulling him closer to you.
You both take in soft breaths as he pushes into you, your eyes meeting. He catches your jaw, holding you still as he presses his length further in.
You can’t remember the first time you noticed how annoyingly blue Jake’s eyes were. But, as you’re staring at them now, you notice the softness of them for the first time. Usually they’re sharp, twinkling, mischievous. Now, they’re just pools of calm blue water — safety on the horizon.
Jake swallows, glancing down between your bodies. You watch his Adam’s apple bob and push forward, pressing your lips to the side of his throat. His eyes close gently, he presses his lips to your temple.
You notice the stretch as his hips press flush against yours, but you aren’t phased by any kind of pain. Especially not when he groans softly against your temple and presses himself closer to you. All you care about is that he’s here.
“Feels like you’re fucking made for me, baby.” He murmurs, curling his fingers against your roots, letting out a shivering breath as he begins to roll his hips forwards. He’s not quite thrusting, just rocking his hips softly to get you used to the feeling.
You inhale him. He smells like the cologne he picked up in the airport last year — the one he only wears on special occasions. He smells vaguely of jet fuel. He smells like your soap. Each breath you take, you’re trying to push yourself closer to him.
Your indication of comfort creates something deeper. It becomes desperate all of a sudden. You’re both panting against each other’s lips, he’s driving himself deep into you, his cock filling you in the most perfect way. His heart is thundering in his chest, so much so that you feel like you can almost hear his pulse.
You’re dizzied by him, your hands are all over the place. In his hair, along his back, digging into the backs of his biceps.
He ruts himself deeper into you at the feeling. His hands are in your hair, his lips find yours, he’s moaning softly against you. You surprise yourself when you moan for him as his cock brushes a particularly sensitive spot. It’s a confident sound.
“Sound so fucking pretty, Ace.” Jake whispers, nudging the tip of your nose with his until you’re looking at him again. His gaze anchors you, it keeps you here with him. It’s just you and him, the curtains are open and a blue neon light from somewhere outside has tinted his skin.
You curl your fingers around the back of his neck, his curl around your jaw. You observe each other’s vulnerability up close. Jake is the one to close his eyes first, to move forwards and kiss you deeply. He guides your leg up higher around his waist and drives himself deeper into you.
“Fuck…” you whisper, watching his lips quirk up into a soft smile. He never could resist a stroke to his ego.
He rests his elbow beside your head, his other hand still cradling your jaw as he kisses you once more. Reminded of his strength as you catch sight of his flexed bicep at your side, you skim your fingers along each toned ridge of his stomach.
“I-I’m really close.” You admit, your breath shaking as you look down between your bodies. Jake nods softly, curling his fist tightly in your sheets, “That’s it, darling. Go ahead.”
His voice is deep and that southern accent that slips out sometimes — that one that you’ve made fun of him for so many times — inexplicably might be what pushes you over the edge.
Jake’s lips part softly at the sound you make, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you as he makes you cum. He bottoms out erratically, breathing hard against the base of your neck. You grasp at his back, digging your nails lightly into his skin.
“Fuck, Jake.” You whimper, pushing your head back hard against the mattress. He grunts softly, leaving feverish kisses along your collarbones. You curl one leg around his waist, leaning your head back as far as you can against the mattress to give his lips better access to your throat.
“I’m gonna cum.” He pants against your jaw. You’re so enamoured in him that you don’t find yourself caring in the slightest. In fact, whichever part of your brain that’s in control right now, guides your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him closer.
Jake’s knuckles whiten around your sheets, his other hand remains gentle and steadfast on your jaw. You gasp softly, taking your lip between your teeth as he fills you. He seeks out your lips and kisses you hard, desperate.
Your legs, trembling, relax slightly as he rolls off of you and pulls you into his arms. He kisses your forehead and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, then holds you against his chest. You kiss his chest gently, reaching out and taking his dog tags in your palm.
He moves his head back and watches you examine them.
“This isn’t the end, Ace.” He promises, trailing his fingertips delicately along the length of your spine. He kisses the top of your head and rests his chin against you.
You wonder what he means. Whether it’s the end of things between you and him, before they’ve even really begun. Or the end of everything.
“Can you stay here tonight?” You whisper softly, brushing your thumb over the engraving in the metal. Jake nods his head quickly. “I don’t wanna be alone.”
He nods. Jake understands. For once, he feels like he finally gets you.
…
#jake seresin#Jake Seresin smut#jake hangman seresin#hangman x reader#hangman smut#hangman top gun#hangman x you#glen powell
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can you give us more info on Spottedleaf’s Plague and the events leading up to the beginning of the first book?
Sure! Spottedleaf's Plague is still pretty loose right now, I have an ending in mind but the central theme is still up in the air. It's one of my looser planned SEs, it rotates around in my head like a microwave but it's still uncooked.
(Horrible Histories Plague Song Tune)
The intro is largely Spotty, Red, and Tiger as apprentices.
Whitestorm is a young warrior above them, and the cool older cousin of Red and Spotty
A lot of the dynamic is established. Spotty and Tiger are BESTIES and cradling a mutual crush, Red is kind of a snappish, awkward apprentice
Redtail is trans and is going to transition about midway through this book btw
Thrushpelt is Redtail's mentor. Thistleclaw is Tigerpaw's mentor. Unsure who is Spottedpaw's mentor; looking to pick a molly here.
Growing up, Spotty has to deal with how her crummy uncle Thistleclaw suspects her of being halfclan and has basically become intolerant of his sister, Rosetail, for claiming Queen’s Rights
Tigerpaw is picking up a lot of this
Thistle is a violent, abusive person who subjects Tigerpaw to intense training. Spotty is usually the one patching up his minor injuries
The worst of them happen on the day the Parable of the Thistle is written. He's covered in horrible prickles all over his face, and his paws are cut up
This sends him to the Cleric's Den, which is where Spotty eventually falls in love with the idea of being a cleric.
Featherwhisker is AMAZING, he's so funny and wise, she wants to be like him super badly.
Through hanging out with him, she learns she is absolutely fantastic with rituals. She can draw a perfect circle and has a knack for invoking the warriors of StarClan.
But... more than ever, she is losing Tigerpaw. If she becomes Cleric, they can never be mates, or go to battle training, and they'll spend less time on patrol together
More than a possible romantic partner, she is losing a friend, as he's sucked further down the hole Thistleclaw is digging for him
Bluestar became deputy, and then leader, in less than a month. This was towards the end of Spotty's apprenticeship.
She is overjoyed for this, because Blue is her mom's best friend, and Featherwhisker's choice. (and possibly her mentor's mentor, if her warrior mentor was Frostfur)
Big timeskip at a point, because there are 4.5 years of general peace under Bluestar.
The next big event here is the titular plague, which I'm still unsure of what the disease is specifically. HOWEVER, it is going to be the same plague that Runningnose starts in TPB so I'm planning to play loosely with it, to make its rules easier on myself.
It's either a disease like rabies, or black death.
Possibly a mix of both. Frothing Death?
Info: This disease has some kind of obvious physical symptom but is infectious before that point. It has a survival rate, but can stunt growth. Adults and adolescents are more vulnerable to it than kits and elders.
It spreads first by bat, but is spread further by fleas.
Spottedleaf and Featherwhisker are working themselves to the bone to care for every sick cat
Spottedleaf is taking every waking moment to beg for help from StarClan. They're not totally useless and do manage to get her some good pointers
And then, while tending to Leopardfoot, Featherwhisker gets Anime Blood Cough Disease or whatever I make the symptom LMAO
Tigerclaw loses his mom and Spotty loses her mentor
When she tries to invoke him, StarClan does not send him down.
So... she channels him instead. And he pops up.
StarClan sent him to the Dark Forest even after he died tending to a patient, for his constant disregard of the code and siring a child with a kittypet while on the vow (Frostfur)
That Shakes Her Up A Bit
The final scene, I can see it perfectly in my head:
Tigerclaw finds Spotty while she's still stumbling around, dazed by her revelation, reconsidering everything she's ever thought about morality, StarClan, and the meaning of life. He's furious out of pain and basically trying to provoke her by asking if her path of the Cleric was all worth it
She couldn't save his mom and she couldn't save her mentor, or any of the like 1/4th of ThunderClan that died
And she hears this and like, this Fool. This Stupid Man. He doesn't even know the half of it.
So she starts laughing, because she's Spotty. Shaking her head, returning to her old self, gets her paw on his big ass shoulder (she has to reach up he's so tall)
Paraphrased:
"Nothing matters! Even the things we can change are nothing in the long run! Everyone will forget our names someday and you can be the best clanmate in the world or die trying, we all get buried in the same dirt! My claws can keep us here a little longer but yours can't dig us up and all that matters is what *I* KEEP PEOPLE JUST A LITTLE LONGER AND NO STARS OR WARRIORS WILL TAKE THOSE MOMENTS FROM ME"
Claws dug into his fur Tigerclaw is a bit speechless. Same Old Spotty. "...i apologize, my friend. I was... crass."
Spotty: "s'allright. Im sorry about your mom. Wanna get lunch?"
And that's what I've got so far. I want to keep its ending a bit raw and abrupt, because it's got this budding vibe that Spottedleaf's story is about the life she lived and the moments she's collected within it. Something about the absurdity of it all, how 'wasted' effort isn't totally wasted, and the beauty within just having a person for a little bit longer.
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What's in my Game: cc edition
dew of the sea
nature set | Tulips from Amsterdam
EA-edit Set | paranormal art items
Special | Love Not War Valentine Set
EA-edit Set | Bonehilda Themed Items
Art Set | Old Family Pictures
Winter Gifts | a tub full of plants
Winter Gifts | thank you cards
Winter Gifts | winter wishes cards
Winter Gifts | wall ribbons for cards
[DEW at home] accordion wall rack + clothes
[Magic Month] | gothic witch paintings
EA-edit Set | more hallway stuff
bioniczombie
4t3: Strangerville Random posters
4t3: Bread n’ Butter Toaster Clock, and Radio (High School Years EP).
4t3: More Stains (Basement Treasures Kit)
4t3: Collection of Floor Destruction 1: Scratches (Werewolves GP)
4t3: Collection of Wall Destruction (Werewolves GP)
4t3: Collection of Floor Destruction 2: Cracks (Werewolf GP)
Bonehilda Coffin Default.
4t3: Werewolf Noir Film Poster (Werewolves GP)
4t3: Fury-Fueled Nonconformity Poster (Werewolves GP)
4t3: LIS2 Grocery Bags.
4t3: TC Deco 01.
4t3: sforzinda’s High School Years Clutter Separated.
4t3: Perfectly Plush Couch (High School Years EP).
4t3: Cow Plant Duo
4t3: Simmify Instant Camera (Deco)
4t3: Saved by the Chair (High School Years EP)
4t3: Laundry Deco (High School Years EP)
4t3: BG Decor (Base Game)
4t3: GP07 Barback Clutter (Strangerville GP)
4t3: Heavy Metal Decor (Strangerville GP)
4t3: School Festival Objects (High School Years EP)
4t3: Good Old Times Tables (High School Years EP)
2t3: Bathroom Rugs (Sims 2 conversion)
4t3: RE3 Clutter (Deco)
4t3: House Clutter (Parenthood GP, & Eco Lifestyle EP)
4t3: The Front Desk Clutter (Get Together EP)
4t3: High Definition Blowdryer (Deco)
4t3: Bathroom Clutter Kit Rugs (Bathroom Clutter Kit)
4t3: Bric-A-Bac Wall Art (Strangerville Separated).
4t3: Laundry Maid Essentials (Laundry Day SP)
4t3: Bathroom Clutter (Bathroom Clutter Kit)
4t3: When Life Gives You Linens Clutter (Laundry Day Separated).
4t3: Get Together Decor
4t3: Random 02 (Cottage Living EP)
4t3: Random Rugs
4t3: Kid’s Decor (Growing Together EP)
4t3: Random Decor (Growing Together EP)
4t3: Infant Update (Decor)
4t3: Bathroom Clutter 02 (Bathroom Clutter Kit)
4t3: Basement Treasures Decor (Basement Treasures Kit)
4t3: Grandma’s Couch (Basement Treasures Kit)
4t3: Basement Treasures Decor #02 (Basement Treasures Kit)
4t3: Book Nook Decor (Book Nook Kit)
4t3: Kids Decor 02 (Growing Together EP)
4t3: Greenhouse Haven Decor (Greenhouse Haven Kit)
4t3: Pile of the Sims Daily (Cats & Dogs EP)
4t3: Living Set (Book Nook Kit)
4t3: SquareTube TV (Basement Treasures Kit)
4t3: Shortwave Shindig Radio (Horse Ranch EP)
4t3: More Book Nook (Book Nook Kit)
4t3: Discover University Decor (Discover University EP)
4t3: Paint Decor (City Living EP)
4t3: Art Attack
4t3: Sick Tunes
4t3: Pretty in Punk
4t3: TVs
4t3: Nonna's Cookbook (Home Chef Hustle SP)
4t3: Everyday Clutter Decor (Everyday Clutter Kit)
4t3: Bread Box of Holding (Parenthood GP)
4t3: Pillow for Deep Thoughts (Spa Day GP)
4t3: Party Poppers (Toddler SP)
4t3: Tastefully Empty Bookshelf Decor
4t3: Non-Functional Water Heater (For Rent EP)
4t3: Tibert Decor (For Rent EP)
4t3: The For Rent Sign (For Rent EP)
#ts3#sims 3#ts3 simblr#sims 3 gameplay#ts3 gameplay#sims 3 simblr#ts3 screenshots#simblr#ts3 simmer#fresh save#whats in my game#sims 3 wcif#ts3 wcif#wcif cc
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The wheel keeps sparing you of angst>:(
Daily Hobie HC!
I realized I haven't done a Hobie HC with the kitties, so here's one!
Also, I'll join the crew and send in my sona with Hobie using that picrew:)
Going back to how Hobie's spidey senses probably began to tingle whenever you start the satan's cycle of losing blood, whenever he gets that specific tingle he'll always try to come home to you in one piece, and as soon as possible.
However, once he crawls through your window and sees Crowley curled up on your lower stomach as you peacefully nap, he knows you're in good hands (paws?)
With a warm smile, he steps into the room, toeing off his boots and placing them next to the door. Afterwards, Hobie enters the bathroom, pulling out and restocking the supplies needed.
With having so many siblings, there's no doubt he would've dealt with periods before, so Hobie's pretty in tune with what your preferences are when it comes to keeping you from possibly throwing your shoe at him in annoyance.
After he's finished restocking some snacks as well, he rustles the bag slightly, simulating a bag of treats. All to easily, Teacup practically runs into him.
With a smirk and a whispered apology, Hobie picked up Teacup and went back into your room, seeing Crowley now looking at him with narrowed eyes.
He places Teacup next to you, allowing her to curl up and share some of her warmth with you as well.
The last one placed next to you was Crumpet, seeing as Hobie had slightly more trouble finding her. For such an old girl, you'd be surprised that she was always the last one Hobie could find in the house.
After he's successfully put the cats around you in what looks like a sacrificial ceremony, Hobie lays beside you and pulls you in, wrapping his arms around your middle, his warm hand just slightly above your uterus.
After all, Crowley had beaten him to that spot, and wasn't too pissed about how close Hobie was to him. Perhaps they were actually making good progress...only when you were in shambles, though.
As soon as you wake up from your nap however, you're confined to the bed by three normal cats and one the size of a 6'5 punk called Hobie Brown.
Maybe you'll make him a MeowderPunk patch for his next gift.
-🐦⬛
I paid the wheel so it doesn't land on angst 😈
DAILY HOBIE HC!!! (CAT AU EDITION 😺)
Awww 🥺🥺🥺 it's always such a turn on when a guy knows what to do during your period and when he doesn't flinch away when you tell him is def a marriage candidate (the bar is very low at this point) Hobie coming home faster so he could tend to you is 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍
You wrote the cats so well!!! That's them alright!
Hobie and crowley have a pact that they won't fight when you're sick 🤣
Hobie having his warm hands on top of your stomach has me all soft
That's straight up heaven 😍 (I wanna wake up to that sight too!!!)
I got that reference!! Hobie's vest is covered in cat themed patches rn!
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Please tell us about them (I am listening intently)
BRO OK Im guessing you mean my OC. His name is Tobin Lawsen he's 19 years old currently. He's my first ever OC and I made him with my friends for a Creepypasta AU we made called Creepedverse. BIG PARAGRAPHS WARNING UNDER THE CUT I LOVE YAPPING 🔥 (Also adding on that all the content about Tobin is under my #tomboc tag)
He's canonically shipped with my girlfriends OC Tali Marks and he loves her very much, she's the only person he really cares about and is very protective over her, but he keeps that to himself cuz he knows she can defend herself. He's an arms and narcotics dealer so he makes money through selling illegal drug and weapons. And hes good at it. He's really dumb when it comes to booksmarts, barely knows how to read or do maths, but is very street smart.
Tobins an insensitive asshole and generally uncaring of himself and others. Nothing matters to him. He's also really unserious and bored all the time so he does annoying or stupid shit to entertain himself. He's petty, defensive, mean, likes to joke around and make people laugh or make himself laugh, and also a huge prick. Has a habit of insulting people just to get a rise out of them, he thinks its funny
Besides being a lil jokester and having fun, he's very out of tune with his own emotions. Really emotionally inept. He doesn't feel much of anything besides apathy, anger and joy. Maybe awkwardness or discomfort. Tobin is very very indifferent about a lot of things, he's the definition of this: 😬👍. The things he cares about are the things that actively negatively impact his life. And even then, he's unable to really care about himself or his own wellbeing, just as hes unable to care about everyone else. He has self-respect, and always puts himself first though
He's pretty morbid and vulgar. Very socially inept so he doesn't have any sense of right/wrong, respect for boundaries and doesn't consider whats appropriate to say/do. Always runs his mouth and gets into fights. Off-putting, but not necessarily a horrible guy. Tobin barely has any moral code, but the one he does, he stands up for with his life. He was raised in a way where people who hurt children and women get the shit kicked out of them, and thats the mindset he keeps. Besides this though, he genuinely does not care about whats deemed morally acceptable or not, which makes his job a lot easier. Would befriend a cannibal for fun
Some themes I associate with him are the sun, dogs, peaches, war and fire. Sometimes Ill throw in some rot, religious, or death themes
The general story with him is that he killed his dad with a shotgun and then went on the run with Tali, and they ended up in a fictional town in Alabama called Farnbury. From there, he got Slender Sick and became an unwilling, mostly unaware proxy. He'd wake up in places with no memory of how he got there, blood on his hands, dirt on his jeans. Random nosebleeds, coughing up blood, paranoia, seeing things. It got to the point he starts obsessively looking into the cause of it all, and discovers more and more about Slenderman. He tries his best to get rid of it, and the sickness cuz he hates being controlled and used as a puppet
ALL ART DRAWN BY MY GIRLFRIEND @clockeyedtoy
#tomboc#creepypasta#creepypasta ocs#creepypasta oc#creepypasta fandom#creepypasta oc art#creepypasta original character#creepypasta headcanon#creepedverse
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Anime Recs Pt 3
Hello hello! I’ve been sick on and off this month and had a blast revisiting my fave anime for this rec series. Following the queer friendly list and the sports anime list, I finally bring a selection of BL (boys love) titles. Most are Japanese 🇯🇵 except for Mignon 🇰🇷 and Tian Guan Ci Fu 🇨🇳 I’m not gonna lie, there’s a fair amount of adult themes and hardcore angst here, but you’ll also find sweet romance and a couple coming-of-age stories. One of my favorites from this list - Ai No Kusabi - is an old classic (I recommend the 1992 OVA series over the 2012 remake) and the quality is not the best, but all other shows are pretty recent and can be found online or on Crunchyroll. I initially planned for this to be my third and final rec list, but I got a few additional recs in the action/fantasy genre for a potential new list, if anyone’s interested? Stay tuned!
1. Ai no Kusabi (dystopian, tragedy)
Summary: This futuristic tale is set in a world ruled by a super computer Jupiter, where its cyborg creations, the Elites, rule over the human populace. Iason Mink, a high-class "Blondy" elite from the capital runs into Riki, a "Mongrel" from the slums, and makes him his "Pet". As Riki learns of the dangers Iason faces by keeping him, he finds himself developing feelings for his master.
2. Banana Fish (mafia, tragedy)
Summary: Set primarily in New York City in the 1980s, the series follows street gang leader Ash Lynx as he uncovers a criminal conspiracy involving "banana fish", a mysterious drug that brainwashes its users. In the course of his investigation he encounters Eiji Okumura, a Japanese photographer's assistant with whom he forms a close bond.
3. Doukyuusei (movie - school, romance)
Summary: Rihito Sajo, an honor student with a perfect score on the entrance exam and Hikaru Kusakabe, in a band and popular among girls, would have never crossed paths. Until one day they started talking at the practice for their school’s upcoming chorus festival.
4. Given (school, music)
Summary: High schooler Ritsuka Uenoyama is the guitarist for a band composed of himself, bassist Haruki Nakayama, and drummer Akihiko Kaji. He becomes a reluctant guitar teacher to Mafuyu Satō, a shy classmate, after repairing the broken strings on Mafuyu's Gibson ES-330. See also: Given movie.
5. Mignon (short series - vampire romance + the hottest smut you’ll see today!!!!🥵)
Summary: Centered on BL Vampire themes, the story portrays Mignon, an underground fighter in love with his doctor, who is coincidentally a vampire. The doctor's revelation triggers complications as their relationship unfolds.
6. Saezuru Tori Wa Habatakanai | Twittering Birds Never Fly (movie - mafia, drama)
Summary: The sexually masochistic yakuza boss, Yashiro, isn't the type to warm up to others easily. But when Chikara Doumeki, his newly hired bodyguard, catches his interest, he reconsiders his "hands-off" policy with subordinates. See also the side story: Don’t Stay Gold.
7. Sasaki and Miyano (school, romance)
Summary: Shy and easily flustered Miyano harbors an embarrassing secret - he is a "fudanshi", a boy who likes boys' love manga. Intrigued, the clueless delinquent Sasaki requests to borrow one, marking a shift in their strange dynamic.
8. Tiān Guān Cì Fú | Heaven’s Official Blessing (romance)
Summary: Crown Prince Xie Lian ascends to the heavens for the third time as the laughing stock among all three realms. On his first task, he meets a mysterious ghost who rules the ghosts and terrifies the heavens, yet, unbeknownst to Xie Lian, this ghost king has been paying attention to him for a very, very long time.
9. Umibe No Étranger (movie - romance)
Summary: On an island off the coast of Okinawa, two young men meet on a beach. Shun Hashimoto is gay and aspires to be a novelist. He is interested in Mio Chibana, a somber high school student, and starts to flirt with him. Day by day, the two of them grow closer, but then, suddenly, Mio decides to leave the island.
10. Yuri!!! On ICE (sports, romance)
Summary: Japanese figure skater Yuri Katsuki faces a crushing defeat during the Grand Prix finals and heads home, unsure of whether or not he wishes to continue his skating career. After a video of Yuri mimicking Russian figure skater Victor Nikiforov's routine goes viral, Victor decided to become Yuri's coach, much to the dismay of his coach, his fans, and his fellow Russian skater Yuri Plisetsky.
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A Good Day for Death (Book 1) Chapter Four
Wednesday Addams x Reaper! Reader
Chapter Four: A Good Day for Death
Summary: After Wednesday and (Y/N) are accused of lying for telling the truth about seeing Rowan get killed by the creature, they decide to begin investigating on their own to discover the truth.
“Do you know any good clubs to join at Nevermore? Weems is requiring me to join a club,” said Wednesday.
(Y/N) considered. “Well, I’m part of the poetry club, but you’re not big on getting in tune with feelings, so that’s out. There’s the fencing team, which you know about, but your pride might not let you join that one. Judging by your ability with the cello, you have a knack for music, so maybe choir? I mean, Bianca’s a part of it so that could be annoying, but it’s up to you. There’s archery that could be fun. You were pretty good at the darts game, so you might have fun with that.” They shrugged. “I wouldn’t recommend the Poe Cup since it involves a lot of teamwork.” They smiled. “We have some other organizations too, but those are the bigger ones. I’m sure you’ll find one that lets you avoid others.”
Wednesday crossed her arms. “The Poe Cup?”
(Y/N) nodded. “Canoe and foot race with no rules. Each dorm chooses an Edgar Allan Poe work as a theme and competes against each other. I love the themes. It always gets so creative with the allusions to his stories and poems. Enid is always involved. She’s determined to win against Bianca this time.”
Wednesday nodded. “And if I wanted information on Rowan?”
“I think Enid interviewed him when Bianca and Xavier broke up to try to figure out why they did,” said (Y/N). “I’m pretty sure they were roommates. Xavier is a part of the archery club, I think, so you could check it out.”
“I suppose I’ll have to consider it for my club, then,” said Wednesday.
(Y/N) smiled. “Oh, and watch out for Enid. She’s obsessed with the Poe Cup right now.”
“Noted,” said Wednesday.
l
“So? Have any luck with the club business?” asked (Y/N), pulling on their gloves in botany class.
“I am a member of the Hummer’s,” said Wednesday, sitting down and looking at their actions. “Eugene Otinger runs the club.”
“Oh, the bee kid,” said (Y/N), nodding. “Quiet and out of the way. Plays to your strengths.” They noticed Wednesday’s glance at their gloves. They were only having a lecture in class, not doing any work with plants, so it was strange they were wearing them. (Y/N) grinned sheepishly. “I can get a little over-excited and drain the plants. Miss Thornhill is protective of them, so now I wear gloves to make sure I don’t touch them, even accidentally.” (Y/N) said it jokingly, but they were a little hurt that even a teacher made them refrain from contact with simple plants due to their abilities. It made them feel even more disconnected and “strange” compared to their fellow students.
Wednesday looked at them. “Have you ever hurt someone with your abilities?”
“I’ve made people sick because I’ve taken their energy. I’ve been lucky enough to avoid killing anyone,” said (Y/N).
Xavier sat down on Wednesday’s other side. “You can’t blame people for being worried, though.”
(Y/N) cleared their throat. “Right,” they murmured.
“Some find death comforting,” said Wednesday. “My family has a graveyard in our back yard. We celebrate their deaths with seances.”
(Y/N) smiled slightly. Wednesday was being her usual dark self, but it was nice to hear someone be so strangely positive about death. She wasn’t trying to be comforting, but it did happen to make (Y/N) feel a little better.
Xavier bit his cheek and fell silent at Wednesday cold reply.
As class started, Thornhill smiled at them all and strolled in front of her desk. “Wednesday, we’re thrilled to have you join us on our journey into the world of carnivorous plants.” She clapped her hands. “Now.” She looked at the glass display case on her desk “Who can tell us the name of this beauty.”
Bianca raised her hand, but Wednesday spoke first. “Dendrophylax lindenii.”
“Otherwise known as the ghost orchid,” continued Bianca, glaring at Wednesday.
“First discovered on the Isle of Wight in 1854,” said Wednesday. They were now in competition.
“Very good, Wednesday,” said Thornhill, impressed. “You may have competition for first chair, Bianca.” Some fellow students snickered at Bianca’s stricken face. “Wednesday, perhaps you can identify the ghost orchid’s greatest qualities.”
“Resilience and adaptability,” replied Wednesday coolly. “It’s able to thrive in even the most hostile environments.”
“But it’s mere presence can change the ecosystem, causing the established plants to reject it,” said Bianca.
“Usually because the native species is allowed to thrive unchecked,” responded Wednesday, unperturbed. “Nothing a weedwhacker couldn’t fix.”
Are they using this as a metaphor? As a poet, I’m impressed and a bit inspired, thought (Y/N), jotting down the idea in their notebook for later.
“You can certainly try,” said Bianca challengingly.
“Thank you, ladies, for those illuminating insights,” said Thornhill. “Clearly, the plants aren’t the only carnivores in class today.” She smiled. “Now, who can tell me about what the ghost orchid can be used for?”
Wednesday tuned out Thornhill, already knowing all the information on the ghost orchid since Morticia had a garden, and looked at (Y/N). “I need to get back to the woods. I need to see if there are any clues where Rowan died.”
(Y/N) furrowed their brow. “Weems is watching you. How do you plan to sneak away this time? I don’t think Weems will be tricked by me again.”
“You can ask Enid to cover for me in beekeeping club. She’ll listen to you,” said Wednesday.
(Y/N) coughed. “Slight problem with that. Enid is busy with the Poe Cup, she hates bees, and apparently you insulted Thing so Enid’s mad at you.”
Wednesday looked out at Thornhill as she lectured. “He had it coming. He lost Rowan in a bathroom without windows.”
(Y/N) shrugged. “Enid’ll be more inclined to help if you apologize to him, and she’s pretty much your only chance to get out from under Weems’s eye.”
If Wednesday was more expressive, she’d probably sigh in exasperation. However, seeing as she knew how to keep her face impassive, she simply looked more annoyed than usual. Wednesday needed to apologize if she was going to sneak out, but it hurt her pride to do so.
(Y/N) could tell Wednesday was reluctantly going to apologize and smiled. “Meet you at the Hummer Shed?”
“You want to go into the woods?”
“Rowan tried to kill me, too.” (Y/N) looked at Wednesday fiercely. “I want to figure out what’s going on.”
Wednesday nodded, respecting the determination and the logic of their decision. “Then we meet after classes have ended for the day.”
“Right,” said (Y/N).
l
“Wow, Enid Sinclair is going to be here?” asked Eugene excitedly.
(Y/N) glanced at him. “Uh, yeah. But don’t get your hopes up. I think she already likes someone.”
“Well, I gotta stay positive,” said Eugene
“Sure,” agreed (Y/N), if only for the sake of saving his feelings. He was not Enid’s type.
“Oh, god. Bees,” muttered Enid as Wednesday opened the shed door and brought her in.
“Yes. This is beekeeping club,” said Wednesday. She held out a beekeeper outfit. “Here. If Weems comes sniffing around, keep your distance, look grim, and don’t say a word.”
“Payback is going to be a bitch,” said Enid with more fear of the bees than anger.
“I’d expect nothing less,” replied Wednesday. She turned as Enid began to done the protective gear and leered over Eugene’s shoulder. “Blab and I will squeeze you like a honeycomb.”
“Snitches get stung,” replied Eugene. “It’s hive code. Besides, I should be thanking you. This is the most girls I’ve ever had in the shed. Other than bees.”
(Y/N) snorted unceremoniously. Eugene was sweet and relatively harmless, but it didn’t really surprise them.
“Shocking,” said Wednesday.
“I’ve always had a thing for werewolf chicks,” admitted Eugene.
“The chance that Enid ever becomes romantically interested in you is less than one percent,” said Wednesday bluntly.
“So I’ve still got a shot?” said Eugene excitedly. “Yes!”
Wednesday didn’t dignify that reaction with a response and just walked out of the shed. (Y/N) said bye to Enid and followed her out.
“What do you think we’ll find?” they asked as they walked.
“Whoever did this is thorough, so not much,” said Wednesday. “But any clue to Rowan’s death is enough for us.”
“I don’t think we’ll find blood or anything. The police would have found that,” said (Y/N), keeping their eyes on the ground for any hints of a struggle as they approached the area where the attack occurred.
“No. But a scrap of clothing does just as well,” said Wednesday.
(Y/N) nodded and opened their mouth to respond when a twig snapped in the distance. They whirled to look around, and suddenly, a hand reached around Wednesday and pulled her back into the bushes. (Y/N) pivoted to attack, but finding it was just Tyler, they frowned in confusion.
“Get down,” he whispered.
(Y/N) ducked down next to them as Wednesday removed herself from Tyler’s grasp and peered around the trees. Sheriff Galpin was walking by with a tracking dog, clearly still hunting for a monster that he refused to admit he knew existed.
“Sorry,” said Tyler once they passed. “I didn’t want Elvis to pick up on your scent.”
I was literally thrown to the dogs, but that’s fine.
“Thanks. How’d you throw him off?” asked Wednesday.
“Uh…” Tyler pulled a package of coffee grounds from his pocket.
“Coffee grounds?” observed (Y/N).
“Deer-hunting hack,” said Tyler. ���One of the perks of being a part-time barista.”
“I assume your father didn’t bring the bloodhound to play fetch,” said Wednesday.
“He doesn’t tell me shit,” said Tyler. “You must think it’s weird I’m stalking him.”
“No. I consistently stalk my parents,” said Wednesday. She began her trek through the woods again, and (Y/N) went alongside her.
Tyler followed them (really, Wednesday) like a lost puppy. “Hey, wait, what really happened the other night at the festival? Look, I swear I won’t say anything to my dad.”
Wednesday turned and addressed him plainly. “I thought Rowan was in danger. (Y/N) followed me. Turns out I was wrong. Then he proceeded to use his telekinesis to try and choke me to death.”
“Holy shit. Wh…Why would he do that?” asked Tyler.
“No clue. A monster came out came out of the shadows and killed him before we could really get to interrogating him,” said (Y/N), shrugging.
“So…So you really saw it?” asked Tyler incredulously. “And it didn’t try to kill you?”
“It actually saved us from Rowan. That’s the part I’m trying to figure out,” said Wednesday.
“We need to find proof he was murdered so we know we haven’t gone crazy and show everyone something did happen,” said (Y/N). They froze as they saw something glint in the grass. “Wednesday.” She looked at (Y/N). “I think those are glasses.”
Wednesday followed their gaze and crouched by the frames. “They are Rowan’s. I knew it was a coverup.” She reached out to pick them out, and as soon as her fingers made contact with the glasses, she was thrown into a vision.
(Y/N)’s eyes widened as they watched Wednesday go into another fit like they had seen during the fairgrounds. “Wednesday,” they said urgently, kneeling by her. “Are you okay?” Tyler was quick to come to her side in concern as well.
Wednesday looked at (Y/N). “We need to find a book.”
(Y/N)’s face brightened. “Like where that page he had is from?”
“Precisely.” Wednesday stood and started back towards Nevermore.
“Uh, bye!” called Tyler as he watched the outcasts go.
(Y/N) gave him a polite even though they knew he was trying to get Wednesday’s attention. ((Y/N) suspected she hadn’t realized that two boys already had a thing for her, but to everyone else it was fairly obvious). Wednesday, on the hand, gave him no reaction.
l
“What type of book are we looking for?” asked (Y/N) as they arrived in the library.
“Purple with a skull inside a flower and phases of the moon on the cover,” said Wednesday as she began looking through covers. Thing crawled into the shelves looking for the right volume as well.
“Got it,” said (Y/N). They began looking and glanced at Wednesday. “How do you know? I mean, I trust you, you wouldn’t derail your own investigation, but this is the second time you’ve known something you shouldn’t. Does it have to do with your attacks?”
“I have visions,” said Wednesday concisely. “They occur when I touch something of importance at unpredictable moments.”
(Y/N) nodded. There were a few mediums and seers at Nevermore, so it was not unheard of, but Wednesday’s seemed strong and a little bit disturbing to her, so that’s why (Y/N) had been a bit concerned about what was happening. As they went through books, they also pulled out a few poetry books and set them aside for later.
“I don’t usually find students in her looking for actual books,” chuckled a friendly voice. Thornhill appeared on the staircase entrance of the library and walked towards them. “Most sneak in to make out.” She glanced between (Y/N) and Wednesday. “And while there are two of you, I don’t think it’s either of your styles.”
(Y/N) coughed and turned pink. “Uh, no.”
“We did walk in on two vampires fanging,” said Wednesday. “We can’t unsee that.”
“No, we can’t,” said (Y/N), staring into space as if haunted.
“Is there something I can help you find?” asked Thornhill.
Wednesday held out a rough sketch of the watermark from the book page Rowan had on him. “It’s the watermark from a book I’m looking for.”
“I think it’s the symbol of an old student society,” said Thornhill. She smiled as she recalled the name. “The Nightshades.”
“Like the flower,” said (Y/N). “Very Nevermore.”
“Color me intrigued,” said Wednesday.
“I was told they disbanded years ago,” said Thornhill.
Wednesday went to her bag and slipped the sketch back into it. Clearly, they weren’t going to find anything in the library, not if Rowan’s book came from a secret society. (Y/N) gathered their books up and put them into their messenger bag.
“I’ll see you back in the dorm, Wednesday,” said (Y/N), waving goodbye. They didn’t get a response, but they weren’t expecting one anyways. They turned and went back to their dorm.
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#a good day for death#wednesday 2022#netflix wednesday#wednesday addams#wednesday x reader#wednesday#wednesday addams x reader#addams#the addams family#x nb reader#nb reader#x reader#x gn reader#gn reader#netflix#wednesday netflix
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Kids | Rodrick Heffley
Spotify Playlist Link
Rodrick Heffley becomes obsessed when he finally meets his thirty-five year old band mate, Bill Walter’s, younger sister.
Warnings: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Sexual content. Violence.
“The Baby Sister”
“The Family Legacy”
Rodrick couldn’t stop thinking about Sara in the past week since they first started to become friends. It was a sickness.
Today alone, he thought about her first thing in the morning, as he opened his eyes and woke up, as he was brushing his teeth(he hoped his breath didn’t smell bad), as he put on his deodorant(he hoped he didn’t smell bad), as he got dressed, while he drove to school, and all throughout his classes.
He knew he had to do something about his feelings for Sara, because they were really starting to become apparent to most of the other people in his life. This, of course, included his band mates, although Chris and Ben also had eyes for Sara Walter, just like any of the other boys who saw her. Rodrick figured the only reason Sara wasn’t as popular as Heather Hills was because she just didn’t want to be.
Sara spent most of her time in and out of school alone, so naturally Rodrick felt pretty important when she decided to spend her time in his company. She typically came with Bill to band practices in Rodrick Heffley’s garage, where she served as quite the distraction to her brother’s younger band mates.
But that day, the members of the charmingly spelled Löded Diper were busy trying to put together a decent set list, for a small backyard party. Rodrick had been standing around with his arms crossed, rolling his eyes as he and Bill watched Ben and Chris argue over songs. Sara, who sat on the couch, decided she’d tune out all the arguing and work on her flash of potential tattoo designs.
“Will you two just shut the fuck up so we can figure this out?!” Rodrick groaned.
“Just give ‘em a few minutes, little bro,” Bill offered his wisdom as he patted him on the shoulder. “Oh. Dude. I almost forgot.”
“What?” Rodrick asked him in fear, thinking it was some sort of band emergency.
“You should totally ask Sara Bear to come to the party with you!” Bill whispered urgently, eyeing his sister to make sure she wasn’t listening in.
“But… can’t Sara drive herself?” Rodrick questioned.
“No, dude, like on a date!” Bill urged him.
“…What?” Rodrick asked skeptically.
He didn’t know anything about having a sister, but he was certain there was no way any guy would willingly encourage his friend to ask his younger sister out.
“Yeah, man, she’s crazy about you!” Bill insisted. “It’s so obvious!” he scoffed.
“She ashed her cigarette on me the other day,” Rodrick frowned, not trusting him at all.
“That’s how she flirts!” Bill exclaimed. “If she did that to you, you’re in! I mean…Not in. That’s still my baby sister. But, anyway, dude, she likes you.”
“…Really?” Rodrick asked, deciding if anyone knew Sara, it had to be her brother.
“Yeah! You should ask her out. Right now,” he encouraged.
“Okay!” Rodrick exclaimed, walking over to the couch. “Thanks!”
“Yeah, anything for you, brother!”
He then realized that, just like the first time he ever had a real conversation with Sara, he had gone over there with no plan. But, it was already too late, so he decided to just go with it.
“Hey, Sara Bear!” he blurted out, visibly cringing and once he realized what he’d said.
“Hey… Roddy,” she frowned humorously, “What’s up?”
“Uh… I was thinking,” he began.
“I’m impressed,” Sara nodded approvingly.
“No…” Rodrick massaged his temples in frustration as he tried to come up with something good, naturally failing. “I was wondering if you were gonna go to our gig this weekend? At the house party?”
“Yeah,” she replied supportively, “I’ll be there.”
“Alright! Totally! Cool…” he trailed off, trying to regain his composure. “Uh… I was thinking, that, maybe… I don’t know…” he struggled to the point of completely abandoning his train of thought.
“Huh?” she asked in confusion.
“Uh, I don’t know, I just wanted to see if maybe you’d, uh, wanna…”
“Go out with you?” Sara offered, coming to the conclusion before he did.
“Yes! …Yeah,” he nodded, trying to still seem somewhat cool, even if that wasn’t really an option.
Rodrick stood there awkwardly, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his grey jeans.
“Yeah,” Sara nodded with a smile. “For sure.”
“Really?” he laughed, catching himself just as she did. “I mean. Really?” he flirted.
“I know Bill put you up to this,” she smirked, eyes glancing at her older brother for a split second, “He’s been talking you up to me for the past week. He’s a real wing man, by the way.”
“Oh. Cool,” Rodrick remarked, slowly turning to look back at Bill, whose widened eyes suggested he was desperate for an update.
Completely clueless, Bill gave Rodrick a questioning thumbs up as Sara watched. Rodrick slowly made an awkward thumbs up, to which Bill nearly reacted by jumping up and down and shouting. After that, Rodrick returned to the band, feeling rejuvenated.
Just before 6 o’clock, Mrs. Heffley poked her head into the garage, watching as Chris and Ben both took off. Bill and Sara still remained, as Rodrick discussed various details of a song with the thirty-five year old.
“Rodrick? Dinner’s ready,” Susan said.
“I’ll be in in a minute, Mom,” he called, “I’m still talking to Bill and Sara,” he said patiently, pointing out his friends standing in front of him.
“Well, I told you that dinner was ready ten minutes ago, and we’re not eating until everyone’s seated at the table,” she stated calmly. “If you still have things to discuss with your friends, you can do that at the table. We have plenty of food,” she offered.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Rodrick assured her, “Bill and Sara were just—”
“Oh, Mrs. H, we’re starving!” Bill spoke for his sister before she could protest, “Thanks!”
“You’re welcome,” she smiled warmly, “Come on in. I made spaghetti.”
“I love spaghetti!” Bill exclaimed childishly as Rodrick and Sara exchanged looks.
The pair of siblings followed Rodrick into the Heffley house. Bill was much more excited, while Sara seemed a lot more tentative.
“Guys, Rodrick’s friends will be joining us for dinner tonight,” Susan Heffley smiled.
Rodrick took his usual seat beside Greg, who seemed to see Sara’s presence as an opportunity. Rodrick glared at him angrily, as Sara sat down directly across from him, next to Bill.
“I’m so sorry,” he mouthed to her silently, only to receive a tiny ‘it’s okay’ back.
“So, we know Bill,” Susan began, turning to Sara, “I’m sorry, sweetie, what was your name?”
“Sara,” she smiled timidly. “I’m in the same grade as Rodrick.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Frank said pleasantly as he filled his plate. “You go to Crossland?”
“Mhm,” she nodded, hesitantly putting food on her plate as Bill piled a mess of salad and spaghetti onto his.
“Oh, wow. And Bill’s your older brother?” Susan asked.
“Yeah,” Sara nodded, as Frank Heffley completely froze.
Rodrick’s father’s face froze as Rodrick tried to stop him from making a scene, only to be completely ignored.
“I’m sorry, your Bill’s sister?” the man asked shakily.
“Dad…” Rodrick said nervously.
“Yeah,” Sara responded, not seeming as awkward.
“Rodrick’s taking my baby sister out this Saturday,” Bill announced proudly with a mouthful of meatballs. “He’s been crushing on her all week,” he teased.
Greg turned to Rodrick, eyes widened in fear as both of their parents slowly took in the girl’s appearance, from her balayage, to her thin eyebrows, to her loose-fitting grey sweater that she wore off the shoulder. Luckily, she seemed somewhat more conservative without makeup.
“…Oh,” Frank gasped, still in shock. “So that was your cigarette out there last week?” he concluded, seeming horrified.”
Rodrick was horrified.
“What?” Susan questioned, having no idea what he was talking about.
“You’re the girl Greg told us about that was smoking?” Frank continued.
“Dad!” Rodrick exclaimed, mortified.
“Uh, no, Mr. Heffley,” Sara said quickly, “I don’t smoke… That must’ve been my cousin Cindy that was with me, we hang out a lot, so she’s always with me.”
“Yeah,” Bill agreed, realizing this was his fault,“Cousin Cindy’s a huge smoker. Coughs up a lung every morning.”
“Yeah, Dad, I wasn’t talking about Sara,” Greg promised, feeling uncomfortable.
“Oh,” Frank murmured, allowing himself a moment to adjust, “Sorry. That was rude,” he smiled, trying to be disarming.
“Yes, it was,” Susan agreed with her husband. “So, Rodrick, you’re finally introducing us to your girlfriend?”
Greg nearly choked on his food from laughter as Rodrick’s mouth stood agape in horror.
“Mom!” he gasped, mortified.
Sara just looked across the table at Greg, seeming to just be appreciating the humor in the situation, if anything. Rodrick said nothing to her, and just have her an apologetic grimace.
“We’re not dating!” he cried.
Sara tried her best to hide her involuntary grin at the absurd situation.
“But, aren’t you going out on a date?” Susan asked.
“Honey, just let them be,” Frank said calmly, “They’re just kids…”
“Well, I just wanted to know!” the woman argued.
Rodrick watched powerlessly as Sara uncomfortably looked down at her plate, feeling horrible. He didn’t know what to do to help the situation, but he felt even if he could think of something, it probably wouldn’t work anyway. There wasn’t much he could do for either of them at this point.
Sara sat in her seat quietly throughout the meal, only speaking when spoken to, and constantly looking to her brother to signal that they should leave. But, unfortunately for her, her brother was Bill. Bill didn’t seem to be getting the hint. It was probably another 45 minutes or so before he announced that they’d be leaving.
“Alright, Mr. and Mrs. H, it’s been real, but me and Sara Bear gotta go,” Bill said as he stood, “We’ll catch you guys later!”
“Alright, take care,” Susan Heffley smiled, a strange discomfort behind her eyes.
“See you,” Frank smiled.
“I’ll, uh, walk you guys out,” Rodrick volunteered, standing with them.
He awkwardly walked behind Sara, hand anxiously hovering over the small of her back as he ushered her out of the house.
“I am so sorry,” he sighed, looking at Sara to see if there was a chance he’d ever see her again.
“Aw, don’t be!” Bill said cluelessly, “I had a great time!”
Sara just shook her head as they all walked out the front door.
“Bill, can you start the car?” she asked politely, intending on having a talk with him later.
“Oh, I get it,” he smirked, looking up at Rodrick, “You two want some alone time.”
“Yes, we do,” she agreed impatiently, waiting for him to walk away before directing her attention back to Rodrick. “So…” she grimaced.
“So…” he genuinely had no idea what to say at this point.
“Sorry, I tried to get Bill to leave, but… you know how he is,” Sara sighed.
“No, it’s fine. My parents don’t hate you guys or anything. They just think I’m gonna turn out like Bill,” Rodrick frowned, not hearing himself.
“Yeah. So do mine,” she assured him. “That’s kind of the problem with them.”
“Well… I actually think you’re really cool the way you are,” Rodrick thought aloud, not sure if he sounded stupid.
“Thank you, Rodrick,” Sara nodded, looking up at him in a way that made his knees buckle.
“You’re welcome,” he stared back, still terrified of her.
“I’ll, uh… I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said as she left, worried that if she showed how excited she was everything would immediately start to go wrong.
“See you tomorrow,” he echoed, watching her as she left.
The car ride home wasn’t too bad for Sara. It was easy explaining to him where he went wrong with Mr. and Mrs. Heffley, but it was more difficult for Sara to get him to see the problems with their own family.
“Bill, we saved up enough money,” Sara sighed as they arrived at home. “We could get an apartment, easily. You can be my guardian until I’m 18. We both make enough money—”
“Sar, I told you, we can’t,” Bill sounded heartbroken listening to his sister. “We can’t just leave Connor!”
“Bill, forget about Connor!” she argued, “We need to think about us, just this once!”
“That’s Mom’s job,” he reminded her, “That’s all she’s ever done, is think about us. We can’t just leave her.”
“Bill, she’s an adult, and so are we,” Sara scoffed, looking at the house that wasn’t their childhood home from the sidewalk. “I can’t stay in that house anymore, Bill. Not after that night.”
The incident of three weeks ago was still a very sensitive topic in their household.
“Look, I get it, I really do,” her older brother promised, “But it’s just a couple more years. Less than a year. And then you can do whatever!”
“And what about you, huh?” she demanded. “You’re just gonna stay here, forever, in the basement? Just because of Connor?”
“He needs us!”
“He’ll be okay!” Sara insisted. “It’s not like we’re leaving the country, we just need a little space! We both did our time in that house, and now we need to get out for our own good!”
“I can’t do that,” Bill said with finality.
“Can’t, or won’t?” she questioned, looking him in the eyes.
“I can’t. I can’t leave Connor.”
“You can’t leave Connor, or you can’t leave Mom?”
“I’m not leaving, Sara,” he said softly. “You can. But I have to stay. Okay?”
From the pained look on his face to the glassy reflection in his eyes, Sara knew she couldn’t press it any further. She was angry, and she needed to leave, but she knew her brother had been hurt enough.
“Okay,” she nodded, dropping the subject entirely.
“Okay,” Bill nodded vigorously, sniffling as he tried to regain his youthful energy.
The more Sara looked into the darkness of his eyes that night, the more she realized that it was his childhood that had aged him so.
“Please, for the love of God, Sar,” he sighed, before they walked up to their house. “Just don’t start with him.”
“I won’t start with him if he doesn’t start with me first,” she muttered as Bill opened the door for her.
The two quietly entered their home, hoping they wouldn’t be noticed and could just slip by. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case.
“You guys sure are home late,” said a voice that made them both shake.
Randy Sharpe, their stepfather, was seated in the living room, reading a book written by a man who could supposedly make anyone a millionaire.
“We had dinner at the Heffleys’,” Bill said through gritted teeth as Sara stopped behind him.
“It’s not even 7 yet,” she said quietly.
“What’d they feed you?” the man asked, being the only one that found humor in his musings. “Caviar on toast?”
“Spaghetti,” Sara interjected. “They’re nice people.”
“And I’m not?” he looked up from his book.
“Yeah, you’re a real peach, Randy,” Bill muttered, creeping off toward the basement as their mother entered the room.
“Hey, Bill. Hey, Sar Bear. How was practice?” Destiny Sharpe asked, intentionally moving the conversation along.
“Good, thanks, Ma,” Bill walked off.
“You know,” Randy chuckled, watching him as he took off his reading glasses, “It makes sense, letting that one come and go as he pleases, I mean… he’s half gone already, but Sara’s still a kid,” he pointed out, pointing his glasses at her.
“Randy, Sara’s sixteen, she’s old enough to not have to come home before 7,” Destiny chuckled, still finding the situation humorous, “Besides. When she works, sometimes she’s not home ‘til 11.”
“What does she need a job for?” he questioned. “She’s a kid!”
“So are you, Randy,” Sara used his name like an insult.
“Hey,” her mother frowned.
“What, he gets to sit there and criticize us all day, but the second someone responds, he’s only human?” she gestured to him in disbelief.
“Hey. Show your mother some respect,” Randy said sternly.
“You first,” Sara cocked her head at him. “Has Mom even seen her paycheck this month? Huh? Could she even tell me how much it’s for, or do I have to go through your ‘accountant’?”
“That is enough,” Destiny interrupted, “Sara, have you been smoking? Weed, that is, because I can smell the box 100’s from over here.”
“I wish,” she responded honestly, glancing over at her stepfather. “I don’t know how else anyone deals with him.”
“What was that, a shot?” Randy butted in. “Taking shots at your mother now?”
“Don’t get any ideas, I’ve seen that shitty Glock you own.”
“Sara!” her mother exclaimed. “You shut your mouth right now—”
“Mom?!”
Everyone looked up at the top of the stairs in a panic as a small twelve year-old looked down the stairs.
“Have you seen my PE shirt?” Connor asked.
Destiny squeezed her eyes shut, trying to calm herself for a moment. “Uh… Yeah, baby! It’s in your drawer!”
They all watched him run back up into his room, silently looking around at each other.
“You two need to learn to get along if you’re going to live under this roof,” Sara’s mother pointed at the two of them warningly.
“Or, you could just throw him out on his ass like you should’ve years ago,” Sara crossed her arms.
“Sara,” Destiny glared, finger pointed accusingly, “You best believe that the first of the two of you to be thrown out of this house wouldn’t be Randy.”
Sara tried to contain the hatred growing within her as Randy mockingly pumped his fist in silence as his wife walked away.
“You know, Sara Bear,” Randy said with a smile, “I don’t know why you’re so determined to hate me. I’ve never laid a finger on you, or your mother. You kids wouldn’t have survived a day with my father.”
“You might not have ever hit my mom,” Sara admitted, “But I wish you would. Just so she’d realize what kind of person you are.”
Before she could lose control, Sara ran off into her room, luckily without doing anything she would regret. Not having any other options left, she angrily sank her fist through her door, putting another hole in it just like the one her middle brother had left in it after Bill shoved his head through it.
Ever since he left, Sara had times where she’d almost forget their brother Paul. They never spoke about Paul, and Paul never spoke about them. Sara envied Paul.
-
“The Date”
#rodrick heffley#rodrick rules#rodrick x reader#doawk rodrick#diary of a wimpy kid rodrick#doawk#diary of a wimpy kid#devon bostick
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Hi!
I'm so late!
But I'd love to know about HF!E
for the wip game!
Thank you, Betty! ✨
HF!E stands for High Fidelity!Eddie. It isn't a HF au it just takes place in a record store and I didn't have a name for it. It was an idea for a one-shot inspired by this playlist featuring gothic/spooky songs before goth was a genre.
It made me think about Eddie who just moved to Chicago with Corroded Coffin and is slowly being accepted by the scene. Reader works at a record store and is playing this mixtape over the speakers and Eddie very much falls in love.
I started writing it and then didn't really like it but here's a lil' snippet:
“What the fuck are you listening to anyway?”
“I made a pre-Halloween mix. Music that lead to goth before goth was a thing.” You frown as you try to unstick a bright red sticker from the price gun you’d been tapping on the pile of vinyl.
Eddie smiles to himself as he continues to pretend he’s browsing and not tuning into your conversation.
“Are you going to The Allied tonight? There’s some new band from Indiana or something playing, apparently they do a sick cover of Master of Puppets.”
Eddie pauses in his faux perusing for a second as he awaits your reply.
“I wasn’t really planning on it, no.”
The guy huffs, “No? What was your plan, going home to sulk to The Velvet Underground?”
“I don’t sulk–“
“You do when you listen to The Velvet Underground.”
“What do you want me to do? Pogo to Heroin? Anyway, I was gonna work on an article actually.”
“Why don’t you write about this band tonight? Tim says they’re pretty good. He saw them a couple of weeks ago at the Metro.”
“Tim said that about that god awful noise band that played at De Salle’s. It was the worst four hours of my life. I thought my ears were actually going to bleed.”
“Whatever, you say that like you’re not currently playing the most depressing German synth music that nobody in their right mind would listen to.” He points out the new song playing from the speakers behind you.
“First of all, this is David Bowie’s Low. And if you knew as much about music as you claim to, you’d know that this was his seminal work in his Berlin era and an ambient soundscape masterpiece. Secondly–“
“I like it.”
Both of your heads shoot up at Eddie’s interruption. He blushes and clears his throat as you catch his eye and the corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry, I just–it’s a good mixtape. I like the theme.” He frowns and shakes his head at himself, he doesn’t know what came over him. Who is this guy that’s bothering you, anyway? You have amazing taste and he’s pretty sure you’re the most angelic thing he’s ever seen. You gesture in his direction and look back at the guy that’s teasing you.
“The customer is always right, Simon.”
Eddie moves quickly to the B section and finds the album you were talking about before heading over to you.
“Did you find everything you need?” You smile at him sweetly as you hop off the counter and take the record from him. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked before. Customer service isn’t exactly my strongest skill.”
The guy, Simon, snorted. Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off the way your face lit up quietly when you realised what album he picked.
“What are your strongest skills?” That was such a weird question Munson, what the hell?
You looked up at him a little taken aback, before a small smile crept up on your face.
“Talking about music…or” you shake your head in contemplation, “writing about it actually.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Maybe it’s not so much a skill, more like an obsession.”
“She’s actually kind of good.” Simon butts in with a shrug and you roll your eyes.
“Such a high compliment cuz.”
You were cousins. He still had a shot.
“You write for magazines?” Eddie asks.
“Zines mostly,” you point to a stack of xeroxed pamphlets on the counter, “but I’ve published a few reviews with Spin and The Face.”
Eddie raises his eyebrows, “That’s pretty cool.”
You breathe out a laugh and take the cash he hands you, collecting his change. “Thanks.”
“Wait, you're Eddie, right?” He turns to Simon, almost forgetting he was there. “Your band’s playing at The Allied tonight? I met your drummer Gareth at a show last week.”
“Uh yeah that’s me. We’re called Corroded Coffin.”
“Cool name.” You smirk and hand him his record wrapped in paper. Eddie tucks it under his arm, his dimples showing as he smiles back at you.
“Thanks.”
“You’re from Indiana then?” You call back to Simon’s earlier statement, as Eddie doesn’t make a move to immediately leave.
He rubs the back of his neck as he nods, “Yeah. Just moved here a couple of months ago with my band.”
“Welcome to Chicago, Eddie.” You smile and introduce yourself, “Let me know if there’s ever anything I can do for you…vinyl wise I mean.”
“Thanks,” he scratches the stubble on his jaw before stepping away from the counter. “Maybe I’ll see you tonight at the show?” He tries to keep his voice casual, but there’s a hint of hope in there.
You bite your lip and shrug, “Yeah, maybe you will.”
Eddie nods and takes his queue to leave, the bell jingling again as he steps back out into the cold.
“Yeah, maybe you will.” Simon mocks you in a breathy imitation and you roll your eyes. “So now that you know the singer is cute are you coming?”
“Obviously! You better get me on the door list, or I swear to god I’m telling Aunt Carol about the stash in your underwear drawer.”
Okay, there were a lot more High Fidelity references than I remembered. Fun fact: I have read the book and watched the film and HBO reboot so many times I could quote word-for-word. I also dressed up as Zoe Kravitz's Rob for an office Halloween party once, complete with the Wings Over America live album that she talks about in that scene with the misogynistic cheater. Only one girl got it because she was a fan of Zoe Kravitz lol.
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Cap-IM Rec Week: Absolute Faves Monday
@cap-ironman, in no particular order:
"One-Man Army" by Captain_Panda
Takes place immediately after the Chitauri attack in Avengers 1.
Steve is running himself into the ground. Tony notices.
Then Steve gets knocked down hard. And Tony intervenes.
Mt. Everest. The fic that I've made 20+ fanarts for, the one that's been ricocheting around my noggin since I first read it. Ahh, OMA. You big, bombastic beauty.
"Role of a Lifetime" by Annie D (scaramouche) (@no-gorms)
It’s been almost a year since Tony was rescued from the Ten Rings by SHIELD. In this time, Tony has forged a new path for Stark Industries and taken on a new under-the-radar role as a consultant for SHIELD. Tony’s SHIELD job eventually brings him into contact with the newest Captain America, who’s a pretty cool guy, though for security reasons Tony can’t know his real name or see his face without the Captain America mask. This is also about the time that Tony notices a certain Mr. Stevens, a new hire in SI’s corporate office...
This AU….this AU… I tell ya, THIS AU….this is some high-quality, top-grade, cutting-edge, organically grown, grass-fed, imdb ten of ten, five-star michelin, test-tube perfection, new york bestseller, billboard luster, knockout buster shiz.
"Meso Park" by Captain_Panda
As the head theropod keeper for A.I.M.'s extraordinary new project, Steve Rogers wants a smooth summer opening.
Then the unthinkable happens, on the same day the investor of a lifetime arrives, ready to throw his support behind the world's most ambitious theme park.
Can Meso Park survive the upheaval? Can Steve?
Tune in to this dinosaur-themed adventure inspired by Michael Crichton's classic, Jurassic Park.
I've said it many times before, I'll say it again: if Meso Park has 100 fans, I'm one of em. If Meso Park has 10 fans, I'm one of em. If Meso Park has 1 fan, that fan is me. If Meso Park has 0 fans, I am no longer alive. It's not yet finished and I'm already sure it's the fic of the decade. That's just Meso Park for you.
"Gather Ye Rosebuds" by lazywriter7
It isn’t like that, for many people. For them, love is the point: the axis around which everything else revolves, the destination at the end of a long, tumultuous journey. Realisation, confession, resolution. Happy ending. That’s how it goes. And love was a point in Tony Stark’s journey, except it came towards the beginning, rather than the end. The issue, instead of the solution.
He hasn’t been alone on the trip, of course. Steve’s been there: sometimes three steps behind, sometimes waiting up ahead by the turn of the road. They’ve sprinted and stumbled, sometimes stood still and refused to move on ahead, sometimes thought of turning away altogether.
Steve and Tony’s story began after they fell in love, and this is about how they fell in everything else.
I read this Way Back When, and I remember thinking I'd never seen such a convincing portrayal of MCU SteveTony and how a genuine relationship between the two of them could emerge while still accounting for (hold your puke) canon. Still rock-solid all the way through; knock against the fic at any point, and it will answer back with a fun two-part joke. Lush stuff.
"The First Time I Went Dancing Sober" by schemingreader
Steve Rogers is a great physical therapist who works with sick kids. Tony Stark is a damaged biotech engineering genius who really wants to be one of the good guys.
I've recc'd this before so I won't blabber on but rest assured it is heartwrenchingly good.
"But Your Spirit is Untainted; I Can Dedicate You Still" by BlossomsintheMist (@blossomsinthemist)
The incursions crisis is over, and Steve and Tony have gotten back together, but nothing is the same as it was. Fearing that things are broken between them forever, Steve asks Tony something unexpected to try to make things right.
Or, Steve asks if Tony really meant what he said when he asked Steve to hurt him.
Sequel to Might Have Cherished You More Wisely.
I couldn't give less of a FUCK that this isn't technically finished. It is finished, to ME. The character-building in this story is just rich and fleshy and the stuff of true finesse. I read this every once in a while just to have the taste of masterful storytelling on my tongue. You should, too ;)
"Sins of Omission" by Kiyaar (@kiyaar)
A Post-Civil War, Pre-Secret Invasion AU where Steve is dead, Tony's a mess, and everything sucks.
In which Tony deals poorly with Steve's death, falls off the wagon, sees ghosts, and misses a lot.
Oh, and the Skrulls are about to invade.
When I first came across this fic, I devoured it in about 2 days and proceeded to be devoured by it for the next 2 months. :) Lovely stuff!
"Catechism" by manic_intent (@manic-intent)
Inspired by fanart seen on tumblr, this is an End of Days story, with all the Avengers as Archangels. Tony had always known that he was a special snowflake. He just hadn't realized exactly how special.
Listen. I'm a simple gal. This ticks off all the boxes, uh-hello!
"not gruesome, just human" by isozyme (@isozyme)
“I need to crash on someone’s couch for a while. Your couch. I need to crash on your couch,” Tony says.
Steve’s mouth opens. If he asks why Tony’s going to bolt, he can feel the certainty of it under his sternum. He doesn’t have a sternum anymore, just a tangle of metal under his skin. Too many things have punched through it to get to his heart. There hasn’t been enough bone left to reconstruct anything made of flesh in a long time.
“There’s borscht on the stove,” Steve says.
Raw. Punchy. Kind of makes me want to weep. Kind of makes me smile. Lotsa stuff that you can only write about when you've been down and which after reading will lift you right back up.
And I'll stop myself there because I could definitely just go on and on and on.
Go forth: SteveTony lovers, fuckers, ambassadors, champions, perverts, freaks, losers, dreamers, legends! Read, re-read, kudo, comment, spread legs and spread love.
#do u know how hard it was to not just fill this up with annie d and captain_panda?? do u??#capimrecweek#absolute faves monday#fic recs#stevetony#captain_panda
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Obey me! Brothers as songs in my 300+ track spotify playlist.
(Based on both: meaning and vibes.)
(A lot of Mitski songs, unsurprisingly for me)
Lucifer
My body's made of crushed little stars
by Mitski
Of course I had to have something with stars in it...
Cannot say that the meaning fully fits him, rather the desperation in the vocals does. Also I feel like it covers his workaholism a little.
Regret message
by Mothy (AkunoP)
This one is a little cheaty from me, since it is from the Evillious Cronicles, which also have the 7 deadly sins (and this song is from the pride arc), but I just couldn't leave it out. Reflecting on stuff you had done blinded by your selfish desires is so Lucifer.
SCARLET OBSTACLE -Shriek of the Melodies-
by Zemeth
This one is more vibes based. Since it is mentioned that besides classical music Lucifer likes metal of some kind, I had found a combo of both. I really enjoy this genre hehe
Mammon
Stop Nagging Me!
by Owata-P
The whole song is about constantly getting criticized for everything you do, having all your mistakes pointed out, being the scapegoat and taking it all, letting it happen untill you're absolutely sick of it.
This song is so Mammon I don't know if I can even put it into words. Seriously, go read it's translation on vocaloid lyrics wiki.
You're a Useless Child
by Kikuo
A song where you're told that you are worthless and unable to do anything properly.
I think this needs no explanation.
YKWIM?
by Yot Club
I think that this one shows him, probably, considering himself annoying. Especially in
"Sometimes it seems like I'm in your way"
line.
Leviathan
INTERNET YAMERO
by KOTOKO, Aiobahn
Ah yes, Needy Streamer Overload, the most Levi game in existence (to me ofc). The tune itself reminds me of him a lot. He probably would be a Kangel fan.
Better Than Me
by The Brobecks
Inferiority complex: the song. It is literally in the title.
I Feel Bad
by I Hate Myself Because
A song about being conflicted whether or not you can handle company of a certain person and fearing loneliness.
Satan
Yukiko-san
by Midori
The lyrics might not particularly make sense to me, but the vocals and music just scream Satan. Especially "Destroy!" lines. To me it seems like something he would listen to while trying to cope with his rage.
Ussewa
by Ado, syudou
The song is originally about Japan's corporate culture, but with Ado's incredible vocals and overall sarcastic, furious and mocking tone of the song it fits him quite well in my opinion.
Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
by Set if Off
I feel like he'd enjoy this song. It's overall nature fits Satan's untrusting worldview. He would, perhaps, dedicate the very last verse of it to a certain demon...
Asmodeus
Brand New City
by Mitski
"But if I gave up on being pretty, I wouldn't know how to be alive..."
FVN!
by LVL1
It's just a chill song about having fun and s3x in the car, literally. With it's overall sounding, I think it not only fits Asmo by vibe, but also is something he'd listen to.
Primadonna
by MARINA
A song about craving attention, staying in the spotlight, getting all you want, but being unhappy deep down, since all this masquerade is to fill the void.
Beelzebub
Francis Forever
by Mitski
I feel like the general theme of this song fits him the best. Someone is gone from your life and now it seems empty, as if there is no point in doing things, since the person won't see it.
Close to You
by niki
As the description states:
"The song is about watching someone's lover die in front of them with a smiling face, and how they mourn and try to accept their death."
But I feel like you can interpret the figure of lover as a different, non-romantic close person.
Servant of Evil
by Mothy (AkunoP)
Yes, another song from the Evillious Cronicles. I can't resist it, sorry.
The plot of the song is a brother sacrificing a lot (including his own life) for his twin sister. The ending of this song is him literally going to execution instead of his sister by switching places and clothes, since they're identical twins.
Belphegor
Child Psychology
by Black Box Recorder
This is more vibe oriented pick, but some of the lyrics might fit him. The overall blunt, uninterested tone of the vocals seems very much him.
Let's Take Some Medicine and Go to Sleep
by Mochiutsune
The song's main point is probably about escapism through sleep. Whenever talking about any kind of problem the narrator decides to take some meds and go to sleep, just like the title states.
I Hate Everyone but You
by Elita
This one is about constantly being tired to the point of staying in bed all day and being criticised on it in the past, yet now there's a person who understands you and it doesn't bother them. While you'd grown resentful towards every other person ever, this one is fine.
Thanks for reading this mess!
#obey me headcanons#obey me!#obey me#obey me satan#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me asmodeus#obey me leviathan#obey me belphegor#obey me brothers#obey me beelzebub
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𝐈 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥;
part three of the velvet opiate series. part one, part two.
pairing: rockstar! hyunjin x reader (+ minho, felix, chan)
word count: 4.6k
genre: visual gothic rock band, romance, dark smut, hurt/comfort, toxic skz, set in the late 90’s-early 00’s.
warnings: profanity, mature themes, drug & alcohol abuse, foursome, unprotected sex, filthy talk, light bdsm play, light sadism.
🏷: @ughbehavior, @cb97percent, @svintsandghosts.
tunes: radiohead (go slowly), mareux (the perfect girl).
Recordings for the new album lasted for a month and a half.
In those forty five days, none of them could move an inch away from the studio, without Joon breathing down their neck, threatening to kick them out the band. Some nights they would sleep in there, dreaming of riffs, and melodies.
Felix had lyrics. But lyrics were nothing but pretty poetry without the music, and Velvet Opiate were not looking to sell books—Chan was very aware of that.
He hadn’t been sleeping properly, if at all. Notes came to him organically, he could get inspired by anything, had a natural talent in song making, and got paid good money to keep it up—yet, he was fucked.
They needed a title track, and all they’d made so far were B sides. And it was on him. It was his fault, because he was so busy running around saving his band mates from themselves, that he’d had no time to sit down and produce. The one thing that was truly of any significance, for them, but to him, especially, solely.
Bang Chan had his music, entirely. Without it, he was just an entitled clown with a drum kit. The company needed a title track, and he’d provide, even if it killed him.
Nothing else mattered.
“From the top!”
The four of them inwardly groaned, fingers raw, sweat dripping from their hair. That was the fifth time they had to repeat that damn song, and they were fucking sick of it.
“Jail would be better than this,” Felix muttered under his breath, throat dry.
Minho chuckled, discarding his wet, sweaty shirt, bass propped on his thigh. His hair stuck to his forehead, dark circles around his brown eyes; he looked like he’d escaped hell.
Maybe he had, Hyunjin could never tell with his older friend.
“What do you know about jail, sunshine?” The purple haired man asked, sarcastically.
Felix rolled his eyes, a devilish smile on his lips. “I know that I’d drop the soap for you, handsome.”
Minho smirked, leaning forward. “All you gotta do is ask, sweetheart.”
“Please stop flirting, it’s making me fucking nauseous,” Chan interjected, a disgusted look on his face.
Hyunjin laughed, going through the tabs. “D’ you think they’ve already fucked, Bang? The tension is palpable.”
“He wouldn’t be able to handle what I give, doll face,” he concluded with a wink, and Hyunjin shook his head, smiling.
“What are you into these days, anyway? Satanic summonings?” Felix widened his eyes, in emphasis.
“Boys, get serious,” Joon said, through the microphone, on the other side. “Again.”
“Lix, shut the fuck up, before he ties you to a goddamn cross.”
Felix pft’ed, while Hyunjin started playing the intro of the new song. “He wouldn’t—”
“Oh, I would,” Minho warned, staring at the singer. “Careful what you ask for.”
Felix swallowed hard, and started:
‘His eyes were heavy
He carried a gun…’
Minho was bored.
His whole life, it seemed, was a mundane routine of waking up to uneventful days, eat, breathe, piss, fuck, repeat. Such was the mortal existence; to have your little time on earth, and then fuck off to whatever afterworld you believe in.
How mediocre—plain. Lee Minho refused to succumb to the monotonous, the tedious. That is why he joined Velvet, that’s why he is the way he is.
Tragic fucking backstory aside, since who the fuck really cares, Minho won’t blame the orphanage beginnings, or the loveless child trope that he’s carried throughout the years.
Juvie at fourteen, mental rehabilitation institute at sixteen, the freezing streets of the capital when freshly eighteen—could he condemn his bad luck? Ignore the responsibility of his fate?
Minho was many things, indifferent to everything, numb to surprise and pain, but he had a sense of responsibility for his actions—he’d never inconvenience anyone, especially the people he associates with the most, because of his own self destructive tendencies. His personal life was his, and his only.
That was the kind of picture Lee Minho painted. A rational one; a competent, sane person, albeit a little unreliable as a narrator.
Some called him a heartless son of a bitch.
Alas, no one was perfect.
It was well after midnight, a Friday on their second week of recordings, when they spotted the fans they’d been warned about.
They were waiting patiently on the side of the exit door, girls in their early twenties, masks hiding their faces, giddy eyes searching for their beloved artists. Joon had given them black caps, and advised the band to keep their heads low, and wave.
Felix broke first, but he later swears it was only because of their long time fan, and founder of his fan club, holding out a gift for him. He hugged her, and signed some pictures for her next giveaway.
Felix was like that—thoughtless, whimsical. It wasn’t exactly a fault, Minho thought, though Chan had reprimanded him quite a bit for his capricious actions.
That night, Minho had a craving. It was an urge, a thirst he couldn’t shake off. And what Minho wanted, Minho had—absolutely.
His gaze had caught the brunette on the far left of the group. She noticed him looking at her, and lowered her eyes immediately, succumbing to his intense stare.
She’ll break easily. That was fine by him, he wasn’t searching for a challenge, not tonight.
A nudge and a knowing look to his bodyguard, and he entered the van after Hyunjin, who’d nearly ran there.
He texted, ‘and her friend,’ to his not so little helper, and smirked down at the screen, feeling Hyunjin’s curious eyes.
“Fuck me,” the blonde boy rolled his eyes. “Just fucking—keep them quiet, will you? It’s a hotel, not your goddamn torture chamber.”
Minho chuckled sinisterly, watching everyone get in the vehicle. It was somewhat unfortunate he didn’t have his…toys with him, but if he was being honest, his patience had ran thin after all the work stress, and not being able to be at the comfort of his own home.
He just needed…release. And they’d have to fucking do, for now.
“I make no promises, doll face.”
Felix turned to that, confused. “Wait, what?”
“Shit, Minho don’t fucking tell me—” Chan started, annoyed.
Hyunjin snorted, lighting a cigarette. He could hear the girls yelling goodnight’s, and I love you’s, and absentmindedly smiled at the words.
“It’s true,” he mused, crossing his arms over his chest, and leaning back against the seat. “Minho’s gonna bless our ears, and get his dick wet.”
“Charity work, boys. You’re welcome,” the perpetrator finished, amused by the attention he was getting.
Chan groaned, while Felix scrunched his nose, wanting to retaliate.
“We’re gonna get kicked out, again. Fucking watch.”
Hyunjin had gifted Minho a pair of Vivienne Westwood pearl earrings for Christmas. It was her original design, and he’d gotten them as a last minute thing, a thank you for all the times the older boy had covered for his ass to their manager.
Hyunjin would follow Lee Minho inside a burning house. He would, if only to see what invisibility truly was. Minho was deathless, a distant form of a man that got away with everything.
His cunningness, his endearing personality that made you blindly follow him to the edges of the sharpest cliffs—where Hyunjin would free fall, searching for any kind of high, Minho could convince people to jump in his place, manipulate them into thinking they’ll be okay once they reached the bottom.
You had to really know the question mark, to know the fairytales it spewed. And Minho did tell a lot of stories. It depended on the kind of person you were—what you did and did not deserve to find out. For some, dragons have been slayed, princesses rescued—others know of the tales of the cavernous forest; about the tough fight against the darkness, how it stole everything, fed on his soul—
How he lost that soul, and what it cost him in the end.
There were a lot of stories, all of them fake. What was Lee Minho in his essence—a con man, hiding inside a thousand mirrors, each one containing only an echo of the small, scared boy he still was, deep down.
Hyunjin caught a glimpse of those earrings, dangling in the bright lights of the long hall leading to their rooms. Hair shining an intense purple, Minho disappeared behind his door, voice lost and now trapped against the four walls, no doubt a warm greeting to his guests for the night.
Chan was leaning against the railing, smoking one of his rare cigarettes. If nicotine was involved, Bang Chan was fucking stressed. Valid, considering.
“I’m worried about him,” he admitted, running a hand through his silver hair.
Lighter already in hand, Hyunjin copied his band mate. He stood next to him, silent for a while, wondering how could anyone worry about a snake.
The level of danger depends on the kind, but most snakes are adaptable, secretive creatures. They shed their skin when they’ve outgrown it, are reborn stronger, stealthier. A snake cannot truly die. If Hyunjin had to guess, Minho would be a saw-scaled viper, quick to attack, so you never see him coming.
He could survive anything, because he always put himself first. No exceptions, unless specified.
“These walls are paper thin.”
Chan sighed. “I could fucking care less about that, I’ve seen him fuck and get fucked forty different ways. I’m talking about his coping mechanisms—” he lowered his voice, glancing around.
Joon had their entire floor cleared, so it was only the four of them staying there, but some things Velvet Opiate kept close to their heart of hearts, never daring to speak about them out loud. It was an unwritten rule.
“Ever since his accident, her death—he’s never been the same again. I couldn’t possibly know what the fuck he’s thinking now, if I ever did back then.”
It was true. Minho had been in a fatal car accident, a couple years back. He ended up with several broken ribs, a fracture, and a broken leg, but the truck had come into impact with the passenger seat first. His then girlfriend was pronounced dead as soon as the paramedics arrived at the scene.
Perhaps, his most severe wound had been her passing.
The band had gone on hiatus for three months, and Minho didn’t once leave his house during the entire time, except to attend the funeral. And that had been a horrible thing in itself—the freezing cold mask he wore accepting condolences, the ghost that’s followed him ever since.
Lee Minho is the burning house. He’s been in flames ever since he was four years old, and the fire has only grown worse overtime. Hyunjin could only hope he knew how to put himself out before it was too late.
But wasn’t he the same way? Didn’t he also have a time limit—a certain amount of fuck ups before it was game over? What the fuck did he know?
Hyunjin exhaled smoke, nodding at the words his friend had said. “You have to walk through the pitch black darkness, to come through the other side.”
Chan finished his cigarette, shaking his head. “Hyun, he’s fucking drowning. You two are more alike than you think.”
The two boys looked at each other, brown on brown. Hyunjin could see the effort it took for Chan to be this vulnerable about his thoughts—he’s always been the crutch, the lifeboat.
The glue that held everything together.
“Maybe you could pull each other up,” he said, patting Hyunjin’s shoulder, and turning to walk to his room, three doors down.
Hyunjin would follow Lee Minho blind. He mused over the stick between his fingers, slowly turning into ashes, how it would always burn, always reduce itself down to the butt—there was no other outcome, no other way.
Predictable. That’s what Hyunjin was becoming. Inevitable.
He thought of you, and the way your skin felt underneath his own, how your eyes looked up at him with the brightest glint, the angel, the untainted. The holy.
You were probably waiting for him at that bleeding bar, wondering how long until he came back to sweep you off your feet. Tasting him in everything, laying awake panting, dreams of him stuck on your eyelashes. He hoped. He wished.
The damned have their prayers and their credulous hopes.
How expected of him to be this weak. Unsurprising.
What other fucking way does Hwang Hyunjin know, except the dark, thorny one? Except the mud, and the monsters, and the hopeless fight?
There’s only one story for him.
He gets up, knocks on the white door. Pearl Vivienne Westwood earrings greet him, an insouciant Minho blinks at him once, and moves out the way.
Hyunjin enters.
The lighting was dim, atmospheric.
One girl was tied on the headboard, the other on the floor, on her knees waiting, gaze downwards.
Both naked.
Hyunjin momentarily wonders if they were aware of Minho’s sexual preferences. Judging by the girl on the bed, her content face, he decides they probably don’t even care—too happy to be near their favorite idol.
Minho nods over to the vanity desk, thin white lines laid out, a credit card, and a bill next to them. A bottle of whiskey was open, three glasses empty around it.
This was the scene. The car accident, the neon lights, the siren. The death over and over—the self destruction was a suicide. The eventual joining, on the other side.
Hyunjin was familiar with this best of all, because he’d been guilty for it too. Only for him, there would be no rejoicing, no motive. No reason beyond the high.
Minho had moved to the mattress, sitting next to the gagged girl, that had been whimpering and fighting against the restraints. He spoke low to her, almost a whisper; his mouth was sinful, his language filthy.
“How wet is your cunt right now, love? Sprawled like a fucking whore for us. It’s what you wanted, right? To be fucked by a couple rockstars?”
The woman’s thighs rubbed against each other, no doubt aroused by the scenario.
Hyunjin had his eyes set on the submissive one on the floor, though. She had made no move, no sound, ever since he’d entered. She remained perfectly still, deliciously compliant.
He hadn’t used in three weeks. That was a record for him, though he couldn’t entirely put it on himself—everyone’s been micro managing him, monitoring his every move. His phone had been taken from him, all contacts removed.
He hadn’t fought it—he’d actually wanted to give sobriety a try, if for nothing but the sake of the band. But Minho had seen right through him, apparently, had spotted the beast inside Hyunjin, and promised to take care of it.
How expected of him to be this weak. Unsurprising.
Cocaine wasn’t his drug of choice, but anything is food to a starving man. He snorted a line, and rubbed his nose.
Then got close to the girl. Her hair was long and black, a curtain around her face. Hyunjin got on one knee, lifting her chin with his thumb.
Watery eyes stared at him, innocent and willing. Like yours.
“You’re being so quiet, sweetheart. Such a good girl,” he praised, taking in her body.
Perky breasts, tiny figure, hands balled into fists on her thighs. It wouldn’t take long at all—this girl was already broken.
Hyunjin loved broken things. There was no reason to be careful with them, at all. He fisted her hair, inspecting her reaction. She blinked at him, lips parting.
“You know what’s gonna happen, don’t you, pretty girl?”
She nodded weakly, never once breaking eye contact. Oh, she’s fucking done this before alright.
His other hand slapped her cheek, once. Softly, testing the waters. She flinched closer, but there was no pained look, no widening of the eyes. Just plain, unfiltered desire for more.
“Turn around, on your hands and knees,” he ordered, unbuttoning his shirt.
It was a split decision, her mouth opened—
“Can I touch you?” She regretted it as soon as she said it.
The second slap was harder, his palm leaving a red mark on her pale skin. She bit on her lip to keep from crying out, and scurried to get into position, afraid of worse punishment.
Hyunjin had no limit when it came to this—he would take it as far as his partner was willing to go, no second guesses. It was the only thing that gave him control, the only thing that truly gave him pleasure.
Feeling someone physically and mentally submit to him, connecting through inflicting pain on them… he’d been wired that way, it seemed. Violence got him fucking hard, the detachment, the deep emotions of the one receiving—the sweet release. All of it was incredibly arousing.
You had been the only exception, in all his years. With you, he wanted to take his time, defile you slowly, take care of you properly.
You were his angel, untouchable otherwise. You were different.
He pulled this girl by the throat, bringing her back flush against his own naked chest, mouth next to her ear.
“You’re fucking helpless. This is for me, and only me. You better keep fucking quiet, and take it, do you understand?”
She nodded frantically against him.
“Now, what’s your safe word?”
“Burn. It’s burn.”
Burn… This fucking girl.
“A true fan,” Minho commented, amused.
He was fucking the other girl’s mouth, both hands holding her face still. She was struggling to breathe, a slobbering mess, but there was no voice to her.
“I wrote that song, beautiful,” he winked at Hyunjin’s girl, and she blushed, before going back down, position resumed, lesson learned.
“That’s a good fucking girl,” he slapped her ass.
Sliding two fingers in her cunt, he found it soaking wet. Cursing, he fucked her like that for a while, making sure she’d keep to her word and make no noise. Her face was pressed against the carpet, arms barely holding her up.
He grabbed them, holding them behind her back, and removed his fingers. She clenched around the loss, juices running down her milky thighs.
What a fucking slut.
Hyunjin entered her roughly, using her arms to get deeper inside. She screamed, and then apologized immediately, her whole body tensing up, waiting for punishment.
“Didn’t I tell you,” he groaned, drilling into her, “to keep fucking quiet?!”
The girl on the bed was crying by this point, Minho relentlessly pounding her ass, hands still tied, a black scarf covering her eyes. It was like he was deaf to her screams, not present, as his movements quickened, her knees giving way, falling flat on her face, and yet never once shutting the fuck up.
Hyunjin glanced at his friend once, noticing the stoic expression, the hard lines of his mouth. He wasn’t there mentally, he was dissociating. It was what usually happened when Minho was high—he had no restraints, no way to stop, not unless he got what he wanted.
“Get on the bed,” he pulled his girl’s hair, slipping out of her.
She tripped, but did as told. He circled an arm around her waist and placed her right next to the moaning myrtle. The need to gag her was overwhelming, but Hyunjin knew Minho left her like that on purpose. To block his mind; static noise.
He slammed back inside her, cunt now a sloppy mess, lifting her legs over his head. Holding them with one hand, he fucked her brutally, exorcising the thought of you.
Minho stopped, as if awakening suddenly. The girl came hard, spasming violently. He pulled her up by the throat, and bit her shoulder.
“Join them. Let me see you.”
The two women started kissing, completely fucked out, while Hyunjin continued his pounding—close, so fucking close. Eyes shut, you’re there, a vision in black, red all around, getting fucked by him against a wall, like a fucking whore.
His whore. Hyunjin holds you up, your cunt heaven, a church he build to hide inside, praying to your name on his knees. Important, bigger than life, your half naked frame filling his mind, driving him over the edge.
“Burn! Burn! Fucking burn, fuck!”
He spilled inside her, growling, head falling on her stomach. She shook him off, pulling away, wrapping her arms around her knees, exhausted, tears streaming down her face.
You’d hate him for this. But you didn’t understand, yet. He’d make sure you never found out.
“All yours,” he says to Minho, getting off the bed.
“Don’t be scared, kitten,” Minho reasoned with her. “You didn’t think we’d go easy on you, did you?”
Hyunjin quickly slipped into his pants, remaining shirtless. He saw as Minho tamed both women, his voice level and soothing. It’d be a long night.
Pouring himself a drink, he downed it in one go, lines tempting him again. But he could already feel his high, and he really could care less about cocaine, so he left, right as Minho took out a vibrator—
Kinky motherfucker.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Minho called out to him, as the door clicked shut.
For the first time in his life, Hyunjin listened.
Back in his room, he showered off the sex smell, and sat by the window smoking, clad in nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms.
He thought of you. Your scent, your soft hands, the way you reached for him. The way he’d scared you by attacking that scum. It’d been too long since then, and his need to see you, to touch you, only grew stronger.
But his life was a golden cage, and he remained a prisoner. Hyunjin had the least freedom of them all, and he had nothing but his addictions to blame.
Grabbing his guitar, he played through random notes, smoke burning his eyes. His fingers settled over a strumming pattern, and he repeated it, a faint melody coming together.
Hyunjin went through it again, and again, building on it, the music descending on his heart, painful and familiar. Reminiscent of the way you said his name.
He hummed along, and where lyrics failed, they now came to him freely, devastating.
‘I tried counting
Her smiling pain…’
He shot up from his seat, cigarette long forgotten, hanging limply from his mouth, and run out of the room, two doors down. Chan’s door was always open, because he never fucking slept.
He was in front of his equipment, free styling on the keyboard, when Hyunjin burst in and stood in front of him, grinning from ear to ear.
Chan squinted up at him. “Are you high?”
Hyunjin shook his head, guitar in hand. “Never mind that. I got us the title track.”
At that, the silver haired boy’s eyes widened, and he leaned back in his seat, intrigued.
“No shit. Never thought I’d see the day, Hyun.”
It was true. Hyunjin never wrote songs—there’d never been anything inspiring, until he met you. And he was so sure of you, his brave girl, so enamored by what you showed him, by what he felt.
“It’s called Knife.”
Chan gestured for him to sit on the bed. “Let’s hear it.”
Hyunjin played.
It was a bit past four in the morning, when Minho’s groupies left. Disheveled, and bruised, shoes in hand, they tiptoed to the elevator like thieves, giggling to themselves.
Hyunjin and Chan were taking a break out in the hall, and watched as they let out similar high pitched screams when they noticed them there.
The black haired one screamed, “I love you Bang Chan!” She looked drunk.
Chan chuckled, waving at her. “What’d he do to them?”
“You want the politically correct answer to that?” Hyunjin asked, taking a drag of his cigarette.
“Never mind.”
They both looked down at the lobby, and met the security guard’s gaze, as the two women passed by him. He probably thought, fucking rockstars, thinking they can do whatever the fuck they want, and he’d be right.
Sometimes they did the most excessive shit for the hell of it. Money and fame gave them the right to do so. What was a hotel’s security guard going to do about it?
Look the other way. They all did.
“What the fuck are you looking at, asshole?” Chan provoked him.
Hyunjin smirked, elbows resting on the railing, letting the scene unroll before him.
“Go back to your rooms,” the guard told him, scowling.
Chan scoffed, laughing humorlessly. “And what if we don’t, tough guy? Are you gonna spank us?”
At that, Hyunjin snorted. Chan had the worst temper of the four, and he loved getting riled up. Shit talking was his favorite pastime, only second to making music.
They had only gotten kicked out of a hotel twice before; once when Minho’s birthday orgy got out of control, and then back when they first became well known, for vandalism. That’d been Hyunjin’s fault—he’d been high as a fucking kite, and decided trashing his room and knocking on every door of his floor, screaming lyrics from their debut song was a great idea.
He got arrested for private nuisance, and fined three thousand dollars for destroying property. He’d barely made it to their first concert in America, and Joon was mad at him for a month after that.
He hoped this wouldn’t be the third, but did nothing to prevent it from happening.
The guy talked in his walkie-talkie, no doubt requesting back up. Hyunjin doubted he’d need extra men, but then again, Chan was known to be unpredictable when messed with.
“What a little bitch. Do you need me to show you, fuckface? Have you ever properly fucked a woman before?”
The receptionist came into view, looking up at them. “Sir, I advise you to calm down, or we’ll have to call the police. Please go back to your rooms, or you’ll be escorted out of the premises.”
Right on time, Minho and Felix came out, curious faces staring at their band mates. Hyunjin sighed, tugging on Chan’s sleeve.
“Do you really have to start shit, Bang? This hotel’s been pretty flexible with us.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Felix asked, rubbing his eyes, looking down at the lobby.
“I’m calling Joon. Chan, fucking calm it, before we’re front page news again,” Minho warned, opening his flip phone.
Chan hit Hyunjin in the back, taking a deep breath, and nodding at Minho.
“You’re right. But let me just—fuck you!” He shouted to the guard, a maniacal smile on his lips.
“Okay, I’m done. Fuck, that felt good.”
Felix laughed, following him to his room. “Fucking Bang Chan…”
Hyunjin stayed behind with Minho, who was on the phone with their manager, explaining the situation.
“So much for laying low,” Hyunjin mocked Chan’s words from earlier that month.
Minho smirked. “We’re Velvet fucking Opiate, doll face. We don’t lay low.”
The blonde smirked back, and put his arm around the older’s shoulders. “Sounds about fucking right, honey.”
“I wrote a song, by the way!”
“About fucking time. We all just thought you’d be a pretty face forever.”
“Fuck you, Lee.”
“Next foursome, doll.”
A week later, the new publication for ‘Nicola’ magazine was out. It was the go to for every teenager in Japan, and Velvet Opiate had been a regular issue on their pages, mainly for their fashion appearances, and hot gossip.
This time it was the latter.
The title read as such: ‘Velvet Opiate fans confess—we slept with the band! EXCLUSIVE’
“Guys!” Joon yelled, reading through the article anxiously.
The band gathered around their manager, peaking at the magazine, curious.
“Fuck,” all four collectively exclaimed.
They were in deep shit.
#ficscafe#straykidsland#hyunjin scenarios#skz scenarios#stray kids scenarios#hyunjin smut#stray kids smut#skz smut#kpop scenarios#stray kids#hyunjin#skz#hyunjin fanfic#skz fanfic#stray kids fanfic#kpop smut#mine.
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SONG OF THE RAVEN; wip intro
"My Lady is not of feather and flight. She does not chirp pretty songs and float above it all untouched. My Lady howls. My Lady crawls. The Lady of Ravens watches coolly, the messenger of death, but My Lady? She wallows with the worms that tend the corpses. My Lady is the hidden places, the lonely places, the caverns, the depths, the wastes. Her song is the slow creep of the ocean upon the cliffs, the relentless trawl of time, the taking each year of all that is ripe and turning it to rot. My Lady is the Devourer and she needs to be fed."
ABOUT;
GENRE: high fantasy
POV: third person limited
STATUS: writing & planning
TRIGGER WARNINGS: fantasy typical violence / mass illness plotline / depersonalisation
TROPES & THEMES;
destructive nature of unchecked consumption / fantasy cityscape setting / domain based polytheism / isolation vs community / identity / socially naive protagonist / friendship / song based magic system / rigid tradition vs fluid change / archipelago world / magical illness / masks and presentation / queer romance subplot
BLURB;
THERE ARE THE priests, faces forever masked to those beyond the temples. There are the gods, the force behind all life, the singers of the great song. And there is a corruption in the song, an errant tune, and it is spreading.
ARN CHILD OF MIRIA, like most orphans on the Isle of Miria, knows very little of the outside world beyond the Temple District Walls. Since the day of their arrival, Arn has been trained in the ways of the sanctra, those who learn the language of the gods and use it to shape the world around them; the very song of life. Most find their talents lay in the domain of a specific god, their song suited to commanding the swells of the Ever Ocean in the Temple of the Tempest, or calling the crops to flourish in the Temple of the Lord of the Earth. Arn, whose curiosity and talent never waited long enough to settle, is newly initiated into the Temple of the Lady of Ravens; the divine messenger who knows all and goes where she must. When their mentor in the Temple is called beyond the Walls, Arn must don the mask of their Lady and follow into the dizzying cacophony of song and life, must use the knowledge they have of the song to command the very world around them to their will, shaping it in imitation of the great Chorus, sung a millenia ago when the gods called existence into being.
WHEN ARN AND their mentor are called into the home of a young nobleman suffering from a strange, discordant illness, Arn is forced to weave their lifesongs together to keep him alive; a discouraged, but not unheard of method in the field. The illness begins to spread, and the song of Miria, once in harmony, begins to howl with the cries of a long forgotten hunger intent on consuming all. But the sick and dying cannot be reached, not like that first time, not like Kirrin. Arn realises the tether between them may be the key to saving the people of Miria, if only they could understand why.
CHARACTERS; (intros coming soon)
Arn Child of Miria / the initiate
Luna of the Lady's Flock / the companion
Kirrin Child of Astari / the tethered
Marsi Child of Miria / the brave
Palla Child of Miria / the weaver
Eri Child of Jaya / the lost
Niko Child of Miria / the mentor
TAGLISTS; ask to be +/-
WIP TAGLIST: @chariklos / @writeblrfantasy / @wickerring / @thats-my-type-writer / @sunlightwriter / @teriwrites / @harinawa / @marimos / @uppoffringar / @diphthongsfordays
GENERAL TAGLIST; @stormharbors / @ladywithalamp / @philocalizt / @wildswrites / @darkgazer / @muddshadow / @ghostschemes / @lockejhaven / @froggywriter / @nightjarz / @moariin
#wip: song of the raven#intro#wip intro#introduction#aesthetic#moodboard#my writing#the king speaks#writeblr#fantasy#writeblr community#writers on tumblr#oc: arn#oc: kirrin#oc: luna#oc: marsi#oc: palla#oc: niko#setting: miria#polytheism#snippet
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Xiumin: “Listen to this, and tell me if you like it…”
You’re sitting at a table where Xiumin is going back and forth between practicing guitar and scribbling lyrics to a potentially new song. You’ve known each other only for a couple months, but you’ve grown to be good friends with each other since then, becoming close enough to be constantly bickering at one another all the time.
“This tune might sound nice,” he muffles through his mask.
“Yeah, you’d sound angelic, too, if you weren’t sick,” you teased, motioning towards the mask on his face.
He rolls his eyes. “Not my fault I can’t prevent a cold. But that doesn’t stop me from writing pretty music!”
You scoff and go back to scrolling through your phone. You’re looking through Baekhyun’s latest updates regarding his upcoming mini album, which he’s only briefly implied to be ready for a full comeback in a recent interview.
“What are you reading?” Xiumin asks, and you’re caught off guard because you hadn’t noticed he’d been staring at you for a short minute.
“Nothing,” you blush, and turn off your phone.
“Show me! You’re red!” Xiumin pleads, and extends his arm out towards you.
“No, go back to your little guitar!” You cover your phone with your right hand and turn your chair around, avoiding him completely.
“Hmph. Fine,” he mutters, defeated. He turns back to his lyrics, and tampers with his pen for a bit before putting it down to stare at you again.
This time, your back is facing him, and he leans back to read whatever’s on your phone: Baekhyun’s New Comeback! Confirmed or Not Before Christmas?
“You’re hooked on Baekhyun’s comeback, when you have me right here?” He scoffs this time, forcing you to instantly turn around and glare at him.
“XIUMIN!” You shout.
“What?” He laughs.
“Let me have this moment! Besides, why don’t you tell me more about it. He’s your best friend. Or more like your brother. Let me know all the details!”
“Sure, I can do that,” he rolls his eyes. “And then what do you want me to do? Tell him you’re obsessed and wanna date him?”
“XIUMIN!! Don’t you DARE!”
He throws his head back in a laughter. “You get too flustered around him,” he pauses, “though I wish I was your favorite.”
You slump back in your chair. “Of course you’re my favorite. But you’re also my friend, and I can’t be crushing over you like that, you know?”
He stares back, blankly. “No, I don’t know.”
You giggle and turn back to your phone. “You’ll be my favorite-favorite when you write a song prettier than Candy. Or Cry For Love. Or Bambi.”
His eyebrows furrow, and he pulls up closer to you. “Fine, then. Listen to this, and tell me if you like it,” he says, and stars to strum along to a beautiful set of verses that scream the theme of falling into a deep, uncharted love story.
Once he’s done, he turns to you, eager to hear your thoughts. “What’s missing?”
You watch his eyes, which are carefully watching your expression. “You know,” you begin, “it’s actually… really sweet. I don’t think you’re missing anything, Minseok.”
He tugs his mask slightly over the bridge of his nose, and smiles towards his guitar. “No, im serious, what about the lyrics do you want to hear more of?”
Your gaze is fixated on his eyes now, carefully studying his expression, or at least the little bit that you can study from under the mask.
“I’m being serious, too, Minseok. Your song is beautiful. But…” you pause, unable to continue.
“But what? Is it the chord progression?”
“No,” you start. “But… can you sing the last verse again? I want to listen to that again.”
He obeys you excitedly, and sings the last part of his lyrical poem in a most heartwarming manner. His eyes move across the pages of lyrics on the table, and they slowly crawl their way to your hands. He’s singing quieter, his attention focusing gently on you.
There’s a moment where he pauses, and his eyes lock with yours.
He sings a line, one that seems to be dedicated to a lover, but the songs pace slows,
ever so slightly,
after every…
passing…
second…
You feel yourself blush lightly, but you don’t understand why. Why do I feel…?
Xiumin finishes his last line, dragging out the last adlib, his eyes slowly making their way to your lips.
He ends his line, and there’s a moment when you both sit in silence, staring into each other’s gaze.
“Xiu,” you say quietly, placing your hands on your knees.
“Yes?” He whispers, his gaze completely fixated onto you.
“Don’t move,” you say, your hands slowly reaching for his mask. “You’re not… you’re not sick…”
You pull down his mask, but he doesn’t protest. “You sing like yourself, you’re not sick at all,” you whisper. “Why’s that?”
He hesitates, pulling his eyes away from your lips.
“Tell me,” he whispers. “What do I need to do, to be more like him?”
You’re quiet, unable to move your hands away from his face. “I don’t… I don’t know,” is all you can mutter.
“Maybe I wear my mask,” he whispers, “to hide the fact that I can’t help but get flustered around you.”
His eyes are infatuated with you.
“I haven’t been sick in a long time. But if a mask can hide the jealousy I feel when you talk about my brother the way you do, then it can also hide the hot, stupid smile I get when I see you walk into a room.”
You don’t respond, but you’re frozen in place, unsure of whether to take your hands off his face or not. Your hands are surely sweating, but the feeling of his tensed jaw under your fingers won’t let you leave.
Then, he does something painfully terrible.
He smiles.
Bad move, you think, because suddenly, you feel your face get hot, and your heart skips a beat.
“You didn’t answer me earlier,” He whispers, wrapping his hands around yours, and slowly descending them down to your lap. He reached his right hand up to your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your lip.
“I don’t think I ever told you how much I love hearing you call me by my name,” he whispers. You feel his hot breath slowly drawing closer, his eyes completely situated on your eyes, your lips, your eyes, your lips…
“What do I need to do, to be your favorite member of EXO?”
“I think… I don’t… Xiu—”
“Say it,” he insists, “say I’m your favorite.”
“You’re…” you stutter, “you’re my favorite…”
His gaze drops to your lips.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, then lets out a small sigh. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”
Suddenly, he sits back up in place, and places his guitar back on its stand. He walks up to a desk with music equipment and opens a cupboard, pulling out a small case and bringing it back to you. He places it carefully on your lap. On it read,
Hope you enjoy being the first fan to listen to my new mini album! Listen to this in secret! Much love, Baekhyun xx
“Wha—what— I’m so,” you’re stuttering, unable to comprehend anything that just happened in the span of the last five minutes.
“What? You think I wouldn’t make sure to get you a signed personal copy of his new music? Don’t show that to anyone, alright?”
You glare at him, pick up the album on your lap, then gasp at him in disbelief.
“I can’t STAND you!” You cover your face with the album, absolutely flustered at him right now!
He lets out a loud laugh, proud of his little stunt, and reaches for his pockets. He pulls out his car keys, and turns them towards you.
“Get ready in ten minutes. You and I are going out to dinner.”
You grunt, peeking over your new album and catching a glimpse of his warm grin, one that you won’t be able to get out of your head now. There is no way of hiding the loud smile that is taking over your face right now.
And ultimately, there is no way of hiding the sudden, huge crush you just spawned for the boy standing right in front of you.
#exo#exo kpop#exo concert#exo chen#exo chanyeol#exo kai#exo xiumin#exo baekhyun#exo lay#exo sehun#exo suho#exo do kyungsoo#exo do#exo fanfic#exo vid#exo edit#exo imagines#exo oneshots#kpop fluff#kpop bg#kpop imagines#kpop oneshots#kpop exo#kpop#exo ls#exo k#exo scenarios#pov shot#exo planet#exo photocard
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If you haven't read it, the 1992 Robocop versus Terminator crossover is amazingly batshit. As someone who was pretty unimpressed with Frank Miller's script for Robocop 2 (or at least the comic adaptation of it), I liked it a lot. It actually feels like more than an empty action figure mash-up, but a genuine clash of tones and themes, Miller turning out be suprisingly good at evil AI monologues, and he and Walt Simonson could still comicbook like no one else. It ends in the dumbest and absolute best way it could.
I desperately wish I had the ability to sit and read like I used to. I used to be such an avid reader. I'd read a book a week depending on how much school/work got in the way.
Now I can barely even force myself to read a chapter before bed. I have attempted to force myself back to reading again, by reading my favorite book (which is not at all cyberpunk but is a historical fiction). And I DEVOURED that book, and I started on the Witcher after.... I'm still working thru it and 1Q84, which I have almost completed the whole series of 1Q84, but something got in the way, so i decided to start over a couple years after I put it down.. I'm still working my way thru.
I sometimes get the chance to read peoples Fics if they ask me to read it, but beyond that, I'm busy being a mother and world building... though, maybe I should cut back on my vidja game time for reading instead, but I really need instant gratification these days when I have so little time for me.
Though, I will put it on the list of books I might suggest hubby to put it on the list for Audible and see if thats something we might listen to together.
However if we wanna talk A.I, I can talk about I have no mouth and I must scream?
So FUNNY STORY ABOUT THAT!
I used to get such ANXIETY from Cyberpunk dystopia's or anything to do with robots/tech/a.i rising up, or what the government might do with such things. Like it created a whole existential crisis everytime it crossed my mind, just from "I have no mouth and I must scream." well and an i.t abusive ex
When I tried to watch Bladerunner 2049 for the first time, I couldn't make it past them flying over L.A. The oppressive architect and the darkness of the city, everyone all piled together (i grew up rural). It caused a panic attack, I tuned it off. I ofc have gotten over that, because of Cyberpunk: Edgerunners, somehow, that cured me. Thanks Studio Trigger. 👍🏽
Anyway AM is one evil sick A.I and scared me beyond belief. Still kinda does. He is A.I right?
#Ask Box#I need to go back and watch the classics such as robocop and terminator#I watched them growing up but a lot of my life is ????#UGH BUT I NEVER EVEN HAVE TIME FOR KDRAMAS AND TELENOVAS#Much less TV#Can we figure out how to give me more time in the day to do everything i want?#Tysm for the ask!!!!!!
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