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demon-trees · 1 year

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Morning Glory

This is more of a welcome back into the world of writing fanfics since I haven't written anything since high-school and what better way to kick it off with my current obsession then Trigun! I'm sorry it took me so long I was trying to figure out how I wanted the story to go but I think I got it now.

So standard rating would T nothing to gory and no beta readers so if you some mistakes please excuse them but I welcome any critiques you may have for me.

Enjoy what I have written, and I hope to do this fandom, proud!

Word count 4.3k

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Hanahaki Disease,

A rare disease where one is in unrequited or even one-sided love that leaves its victim to cough or vomit flower petals mixed with their own blood. In most extreme cases left untreated can lead to a flowering plant growing in the lungs,stomach or heart in which case the disease then turns fatal with then having to vomit or choking fully bloomed flowers and slowly succumbing to the lack of oxygen and blood. The only known cure is to undergo a surgery to remove said flower from the host but no record has shown a case where the patient has recovered unless they do another more high risk operation on the brain to remove part of the limbic system. More studies show that people who undergo brain surgery have a ninety-nine percent rate of recovery and no return of the flowers but have a difficult time to process emotions or even become shells of their former selves. Other studies of this disease have shown zero chance of survival due to the type of plant that can take residence in the victim's body which can shut down its host's body four times faster than normal, meaning the average lifespan with this disease cuts down to a year to a few months while other victims have years ahead.

Year 3xxx

It's been almost one hundred and fifty years since the seed project crashed on this planet,

Fifty years since the discovery of the strange plant disease that riddles the lonely and the daydreamers, twenty years since the discovery of a so-called “cure” for it, and three days since I too have fallen victim to the hanahaki disease.

I thought everything was fine, everything was fine if I just kept my distance from the infamous outlaw, but just like the sun I was always drawn back to his warmth. We met a few years before the Jenerora Rock incident, when I was waiting tables at Rosa’s diner just hiding out from bounty hunters when this unusual man in a long red coat and pointed gold hair walks in. All he asked for is a simple drink, nothing fancy but then one drink turned into one more, and then three more, and so on, honestly if Rosa hadn’t cut him off when she did he would have ended up passed out on the diner floor with her husband. He hadn’t paid for a room and it looked like he wasn’t sober enough to ask for one yet but with the town inn being so far away it didn’t look like he would make it that far in the state he was in anyway. Really what could have been so bad that someone would neglect to get shelter to instead come get their ass blackout drunk?

I really should have minded my own business but with Rosa having her own troubles with her sorry ass husband and Tonis what else could she do with the stranger who seemed to be dead to the world already, apparently drag him to the upstairs apartment that resides above said diner that I'm currently renting, bless you Rosa. With a bit, well with a lot of struggle i managed to drag the idiot up the stairs and not so carefully put him on the bed, really this man who appeared to not weigh much was much heavier than i expected and his staggering height was a struggle i didn’t account for when i decided to be a kind civilian for once. Really, one glance at this man and my natural caregiver instincts kicked in and I hated it, it wasn’t me, not anymore i thought. I went to turn to leave but his shaky voice startled me causing me to freeze, it wasn’t a question that left his lips but a small broken thank you, i hesitantly turned back to look at the poor sap but he had already fallen asleep with small snores leaving his mouth. Thinking back on it i wasn’t sure why i helped him removed his boots or even covered him up with the nicest blanket i could fine but meeting him that day had set everything in motion, I would begin to start falling for the fading sun: star boy, i would call him but to the rest of Gunsmoke he will forever be known as the humanoid typhoon: Vash The Stampede, and to my unsuspecting self I would soon learn why he was given the nickname.

The morning I woke from my spot on the tiny loveseat to find him nowhere in sight, nothing that showed that he had been here the night before unless you count a neatly made bed. I assumed he had just got up and left town but no, I walked down to see the very sunny man talking and laughing with Rosa as he helped clean the diner with the help of her husband who looked like he saw better mornings. Confused was most likely an understatement given the situation, why was he still here, why was he helping a stranger with a kind smile plastered on his face? Questions that I hadn’t had a chance to ask as I was rushed out the door to help unload the supply truck by other waitresses leaving behind a stuttering mess of heys and wait by the blonde man who looked a little shocked to see me as well. As soon as we were outside I was bombarded with who he was, was he available, and was he a “good time”, shameless the lot of these people! As much to my horror he decided to follow us out back and without a hint of decency he played along with they're crude jokes!

“Well ladies i must say i would never kiss and tell but she was absolutely rude in the bedroom! She was so rough in the bedroom, she even threw me on the mattress!” He said dramatically holding his arm over his face, crocodile tears threatening to leave his eyes but that cheshire grin he had given it all away that it was a horrible joke.

“My my i would never have thought our sweet little y/n was into that sort of thing! So scandalous I tell you!” One of the ladies said as she pretend to faint into my arms

“I have a half mind to drop you, you know and that isn’t what happened last night.” I said sternly glaring at the looming giant who seemed to have a grand of a time laughing with the rest of them as his aviator glasses slid down his face revealing his baby blue eyes and long lashes as he glanced my way.

‘Damn him, he really was beautiful.’ I thought as I pushed the woman back up and went to the truck to pick up one of the many boxes.

“No it's true I heard the loud thump of the bed myself last night.” I heard Rosa tell them and it took everything in me not to drop the heavy crate on the ground.

“ROSA!” I yelled mortified as the rest of them held onto their stomachs from laughing so hard while ‘pretty boy’ fell down laughing.

I can feel my face getting warm while I walked away from the humiliation.

“Names Vash by the way!” He yells after me as I plopped the crate down at the bar.

He rushes to stand in my way with a shining smile that could put the suns to shame.

“I don’t believe I caught your name yet.” Lier.

“And i believe you just heard it from my friend there so excuse me.” I say as I tried to go under him. Again he follows me. Cute.

“But I would much rather you tell me yourself, beautiful.” He says smoothly.

If god was real then i'm sure the devil is as well because no one should be that handsome and lame but cute at the same time. He’s a temptress, I'm sure of it.

“Does flirting come naturally to you or am I a special case?” I say as I give into whatever game this is, leaning against the door frame with a huff.

“It depends really, is it working?” I can see the little glint of mischief in his eyes with his smile turning genuine.

“No, but I'll give you credit for trying. Names y/n.” I finally say with a small grin.

The next few weeks were filled with such an odd sense of peace that I almost forgot we were human, but there is no such thing as peace when humans are involved.

I was out back on break when it happened, playing with Tonis and one of the worms he had found when the loud shouting laughter of kids could be heard and a not so kind shriek of what I could guess was a blonde idiot. He was tackled down and hogtied by the local kids in a game of catch the outlaw, really such a fitting game if you think about it. Kids piled on top of him while he tried to wiggle his way out from under them but the joyous laughter of the kids caused him to laugh a little too and slumped.

‘So he was good looking, great with kids and a decent person.’ The more I looked at him the more I wondered who he really was. With a teasing smile I got up from the small porch taking Tonis with me over to shoo the youngins away but the small child had other ideas as he broke free from grasp and jumped on Vash as well leaving the stranger with no more fight in him as he laid flat on the sand and his glasses laid barren beside him.

“Need a hand there, stranger? It looks like you're about to start seeing stars here in a minute.” Laughing as I crouched down to his level picking up his glasses and using them to push back my y/h/c hair back.

“No, no! Everything’s fine, I just need a minute to regain my strength. It will probably come back faster if someone were to say "I don't know, bless me by going on a date with me, tonight maybe?” He shoots me another charming smile. I swore I could see little stars and sparkles around him as he offered his best attempt at a smolder.

‘This little shit.’

“You know what, you look fine here on the ground so i'm just gonna go but thanks for the new glasses star boy, i think they look good on me.” I quickly tried to walk away hoping the way my heart skipped a beat was just a weird fluke when I heard a rush of waits being directed at me. I turned around annoyed to see him clumsy jogging over to me, red staining his cheeks and the tips of his ears from the heat I assumed.

“I’m sorry about making a pass at you but can I make it up to you with a drink? No funny business, I promise just a casual drink as a thank you for the other day?” The shy smile he gives me nearly puts me in an early grave.

“All right, one drink, just one pretty boy then we call it even deal?” I offered him back his glasses as a sign of good fate but he freezes.

‘What?’

“Pretty?” Oh no, no I didn't!

“You think I'm pretty?” God kill me now as the damn smile he wore now was blinding me. The next thing I knew Vash pulled me down as a random bullet shot passed us and hit a window.

‘TOO SOON GOD!’

Gunshots rang throughout the city, people scurrying into their homes and children ran to hide in alleyways with the critters, the smell of gunpowder and blood soaked the air. I dropped Vash’s glasses to run and grab Tonis and pulled him into the diner with Rosa who was already loading up her gun. I left him with Rosa’s husband as we ran back outside to see what was happening and nothing could have prepared me for how fast my blood drained at the sight. People were injured, some dead, and a few with life threatening wounds but in the middle of all that was enough for me to turn to stone.

Bounty hunters.

A large gang of bounty hunters have held up my wanted poster and the leader threatened to shoot up the town and plant if I wasn't handed over in the next five minutes. I turned over to Rosa to explain myself but I had a gun pointed to my head before I could let out a sound, the anger on her face says it all, because I have seen and heard it all before.

‘How can I bring them here? Why did you endanger all of us? Think of the lives you are putting at risk!’ I’ve heard it many times before but I could never give them an answer that was satisfying, because really all I wanted was a place to call home too. It wasn’t fair that everyone had a place to call home, someplace safe and warm, instead I was cursed to wander around these damn dunes with nothing more than an old hand me down gun and a forgotten name.

“Take me to the leader Rosa, I won't put up a fight I promise.” I said holding back my tears and stretching out my hands to be tied, I don't deserve to cry, not after running for so long and almost killing what could be considered friends again. I deserved this I thought as she tied me up and dragged me to them showing no remorse for me, just a grim frown. I was then thrown to the leaders feet and the last thing i saw was the hilt of his weapon hitting me and the sounds of gunshots being fired. A small panicked hold on was the last thing I really heard but I will never believe it was real.

A day, a full twenty four hours I was out and in that time Vash had stopped the gang from dragging me off but not before they damaged one of the plants but by some god forsaken miracle he managed to save that too. While I was grateful he saved me, I needed to leave, and I needed to leave now while the diner was bustling with people probably celebrating the hero. I no longer had a home and no friends, so I packed the necessities and managed to slip out into the apartment alleyway. I didn’t bother to leave a note because really who will miss the bitch who brought a dangerous gang here and almost destroyed the town. As I grabbed a Thomas I saw the so-called hero as he stood in my way with both arms outstretched to halt my steed, head slightly down and a certain emotion was hidden behind his tinted glasses, what it was I would probably never know for sure.

“Out of the way, Vash, I'm not in a playful mood tonight.” I say as I pulled my double action revolver out of its holster and pointed it straight at him, turning the safety off.

Instead of moving away like i warned him too he moved closer to me arms still up in the air as a silent promise he won’t draw.

Like that means shit to me right now.

“Vash, I'm serious! Take one more step and this bullet goes straight through your head!” I yelled, clicking the trigger into place. Again he moves closer, barely five feet away as I shoot a warning next to his head just barely missing a hair.

“Next time I won’t miss.” I tell him but my hand is shaking and he sees it.

He gently lowers my arm down and grabs my now useless gun to place on the ground all without breaking eye contact with me.

“I won’t stop you from leaving and I won't follow you out but, i still expect that drink you owe me in the future y/n.” The sad smile he wore never failed to make me feel guilty but I couldn't stay one more night for a drink and I didn't want to make empty promises to the same broken vagabond as me.

“Vash i can’t promise you i will be alive the next time you see me.” I shook off his hand as I stared up at the sky just to keep from looking into his eyes. I wondered if the stars could ever be trapped by a mere human because everytime i would look into his eyes I would catch a tiny glimpse of the vast space. So full of wonder and awe but oh so cold and lonely, an endless cycle of new life and death.

“Then I'll make a promise to you then, a promise to see my new friend alive and well again.” He then hands me my gun back as vow that if I take it I have honored the promise he made.

‘I want to be selfish, please just this once, let me keep this promise’

“All right, I’ll see you around then starboy.”

That was the first time I felt the pain in my chest.

That was two years ago and I became a gun for hire myself, so imagine my utter surprise when I ran into this idiot again at a bar shoot out when he so casually saves us by using the broken metal sign to shield us from the massive wave of gunshots. Lucky basterd.

“Well nice to see you again y/n! While I wished it was under better circumstances I do believe it's best for us to start running.” He grabbed my hand and we hauled ass out of there because someone didn’t bother to check if he had bullets, and neither did i. It seems like nothing changes when sharing a city with Vash the Stampede, except my ability to check my own supplies.

We managed to defeat the two bounty hunters by Vash cleverly using the giant one's weapon against himself while I distracted the other one long enough for him to get hit with it as well. I hate to think it but we made a good team. Although his sillness gets the better of him he’s actually very smart if not too passive about how to win a gunfight, i still wonder about this man.

During the fight we met two insurance girls named Meryl and Millie who are on the lookout for the “real” Vash to keep him under surveillance for a whole twenty four hours. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that the man they were looking for was the poor sap next to me and not a gruesome, womanizing monster, he’s a flirt for sure but hardly a womanizer. We parted not long after but the way Vash’s eyes kept tailing that woman, Meryl, had me guessing this wasn’t the first time he’s seen her. His gaze was too soft and somber to have for a first time meeting.

‘The pain is back, fuck.’

“So you gonna tell me how you know her or do you want to play the fool all night?” Turning to him once again, a sad smile was plastered on his face as he watched her go.

‘It hurts, it hurts a lot’

“I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Vash, I've been around for a while and I've seen more than a hundred people with the same look on their face. You know her, you're in love with her.”

“I would appreciate it if you just let it go, please.” The way his fist clenched and jaw tightened told me enough that it was painful but nothing else.

‘I’m overstepping again’

“Okay.”

Bitter, I was bitter and for what reason I couldn't tell you back then. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to bring it up when we weren’t friends and we didn’t know much about each other either, but I craved painful answers. I desperately wanted the missing knowledge that had him so wind up but i have to let it go.

‘My lungs feel like they’re on fire.’

He started to walk away and all i could do was stand there, i didn’t dare reach out to him again. Walking back to town slowly as I followed him from a distance, giving him the space I owed him but then stopped as I stared up at the night sky. It was terribly stunning as I witnessed a rare meteor shower above us leaving me breathless for the first time in years. The glowing worms seemed to take interest as well as they filled the sky next to the shower. I never realized Vash had stopped walking as well until I heard him clear his throat trying to gain my attention tilting his head towards the small run down town.

“I know the bar is destroyed but did you want to find someplace else to grab that drink I still owe you?”

“It's been two years since we made that promise, I'm surprised you even remembered.”

“I have a very good memory. Is that a yes?”

“It's not a no but lets see if we can find a place first. Yeah?” I tell him as we walk in sync towards the town with the little bit of pain in my chest hurting a bit less but the ache is still there. Then the coughing started.

“That’s quite a cough you got there, you okay?”

“Yeah i’m fine it must because its cold out now, you know.” I tell him trying to ease his worries and to convince myself I was fine.

"Weird, I hope I'm not getting sick.’

“Well if you ever need a handsome guy to nurse you back to health i’ll gladly do it, Flower!”

"Flower? Why?" I managed to choke out and resist the urge to fan myself.

"Well you remind me of the pretty flowers in old books, but I guess flower sounds weird. How about petal?"

'Why must God punish me this way!'

"Well if I call you star boy it's only fair. I suppose you can give me a nickname as well." Be still thy beating heart comes to mind as i gently grasped my shirt over my aching organ.

"Moon flower it is then. To match mine.”

‘Oh how fitting.’

We spent the next hour going back and forth between diners and shops but nothing. No booze or homemade alcohol in sight but it was okay because after a while we stopped looking and just enjoyed each other's company for the evening. We settled for dinner now with another promise of that drink. I will always think back to that little time we spent together fondly as we departed a few days later.

I wouldn’t see him again for a couple of months this time around but when I did, it was with the insurance girls again and some man carrying a very large cross. The ominous feeling never went away and neither was the horrorbile envy I had towards Meryl. She was stunning,brave,kind, and had such a righteousness to her that when compared to me it was- pathetic. She was someone who deserved to be by Vash’s side, who would fight to stay by his side even if she says it's purely for work but I think that lie was to keep her heart off her sleeve for a while longer.

I kept an eye on the way Vash’s eyes trail after her, wherever she was Vash was never far behind where it would be by her side or hiding from plain sight after a mild scolding from her. I hate her but admire her the same.

During our time apart my chest pain worsened, the coughing fits grew bloody and my body was slowly being overcome with yellowish veins that stretched from my heart to my lower abdomen. It could be easily covered by my clothes but the bloody cough was what gave me away the night of the quick draw contest. The priest was the one to find me hunched over a desk as we both watched in horror as white petals were mixed with large blood clots.

‘No. Please no.’ I could cry, scream my decaying lungs out but what’s the use now. I’m dying a lonely lover's death, oh how the reaper must weep for one's like me.

“Have you told him yet? Needle-noggin?” Wolfwood asks him to light a cigarette and walks towards the bathroom.

“It's not him. There's no way, it's a mistake." I couldn't love Vash, it's too soon.

"You really want to keep lying while on your deathbed huh?" Wolfwood threw me a towel as he took another drag.

''By the looks of those petals ya could have a Morning Glory growing inside that lil heart of yours, worse case its a moon flower."

"Those are poisonous right?" I tried to wipe up the blood and petals but I think it stained the wood floors. I might have to pay a deposit or damage fees.

"Right. So even if you get enough money for the surgery it will be useless since the poison is already in your system. You'll die in a few weeks sweetheart. "

'I'm dying'

"I guess I should be glad I met a priest when I did huh? Maybe you can bless my grave with some religious crap about heaven or something." I tried to joke around but in the end everything came out in short labored sobs.

'I'm really dying'

"So you really don't want to tell him huh? "

"What's the point? I'll be dead soon." Looking back now maybe I should have told him sooner.

Stay tuned for part two coming soon

#x reader #fanfic #trigun #trigun stampede #trigun x reader #vash the stampede #vash x reader #vash x you

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mamamittens · 7 months

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How would (X) react to you as (z) drunk?

I was curious about what kind of drunk I'd be considering my colorful family's different reactions and thought about this.

(I'd likely end up as a weepy, affectionate drunk until someone ticked me off cause I low-key already wanna cry a lot and it's mostly social anxiety that keeps me from physically expressing my love for friends without being a shit about it)

(which ig is better than a raging drunk or someone with a personality shift so severe drunk me has a different name and a reputation of being incredibly temperamental and aggressive)

But anyway! To the list!

Marco

As a happy drunk he's amused and generally happy to watch you run around being a jackass. Affectionately. Not likely to get too dragged into shenanigans but willing to supervise if only to tease you about it later.

As a weepy drunk he's more inclined to sit beside you and gently rub your back if it's more melancholy driven. Softly affirming but not letting you spiral too hard into depression. If it's "cry because snakes don't have arms to hug" he's pretty amused and willing to 'hear you out'. There will be a point where he stops letting you drink and switches to water though. As funny as it may be, dehydration is a bitch with a hangover.

As an affectionate drunk he's a bit startled if this is different from how you usually are. But he's also way more careful about distracting you since not everyone will innocently enjoy your affections. The last thing he wants is to take his eyes off of you and you end up with a creepy perving on you for a 'hug'.

As an angry drunk he's a bit amused and worried about all this tension you're suddenly setting loose. Willing to redirect it to himself so you don't break shit or fight someone you're not prepared for--regardless of how scrappy you are.

Drinking like a fish has him vibing with you and eventually weaning you onto water just to be safe. It's nice to not be the only sober-ish one at the party.

Blackouts will get a nice rundown the next day with appropriate teasing depending on what it is.

Sleepy drunks get amused cuddles and teasing. The party is still going and he expects a hearty thanks for keeping you safe from pranks while you're passed out.

Ace

Ace is literally that there with you for just about all of these, btw. He's very... communal in his vibes, really good at matching energy. So if you're a happy drunk he's laughing like a loon with you!

He's awkward if you're weepy though, genuinely growing distressed even if you're crying over something silly and this worry extends past the hangover. Expect a lot of warm, supportive hugs. Its rough out here buddy, but he's here for you.

Affectionate drunks throw him off weirdly enough. He vibes but always seems shocked to be dragged into a hug. But he will be mindful of who's hanging around you when you're like this. Kind of enjoys hogging your attention like this.

Angry drunks will find the perfect fighting partner with Ace but he won't be... gentle about it. Perfectly at ease focusing your rage on himself as long as he initiates first. Feels hurt if it's hate on sight cause you're so close, why are you mad at him 🥲

Put out if you appear sober despite drinking more than him. Expect pouting.

Blackouts will be very thrown by his description of what went down cause it never sounds right for some reason. Lightly fucks with you.

Sleepy drunks get soft cuddles, mostly cause he's warm and weak to hugs if you look pathetic enough.

Thatch

He's pretty close to the life of the party so he's happy to have a happy drunk alongside him. Goading you into shenanigans and being goaded in return, it's a blast and he's a good sport about it.

Weeping throws him off as he starts to switch into 'party Dad' mode, gently giving you water instead as you cry your heart out. He feels bad getting you to drink, though less so if it's silly things making you cry, it's pretty clear you're really in your feelings when you're drunk. Plenty of hugs and encouragement while he listens to your woes. Hugs you first thing when you wake up.

Angry drunks amuse him and he enjoys teasing you into tripping over yourself or doing stupid shit out of pride. Careful not to go too far, he still likes to toe the line occasionally. He likes knowing you're ready to throw down if he suggests it though. Could come in handy later.

Affectionate drunks are his favorite because he enjoys the ego boost that comes with hogging the attention. A lot of goading and fishing for compliments until he's glowing for reasons separate from the booze. Pouts when someone else steals your attention. He just wants to be your favorite. Knocks out the lights of whoever tries some shit while you're all too willing to hug random strangers.

You never have to worry if you blackout cause he'll make sure you're safe and don't do anything too crazy. It's pretty reassuring but occasionally he tries to mess with you with fake stories.

If you're a sleepy drunk he puts you to bed, lol. Depending on how far along the party is, you can probably make him cuddle you. He doesn't want to miss the whole thing but feels bad you didn't get to have a fun time cause the booze makes you too tired. And he likes the affection, there's no denying it.

#one piece #thatch one piece #marco the pheonix #fire fist ace #one piece headcanons #x reader #not too shippy but a little shippy #short cause I'm once again not sleeping like I should

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andrewminyardapologist · 11 months

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A Kevin Day hc I assume I'm not the first to have:

We see Kevin drinking during the course of the series. Often, he uses it to relieve extreme anxiety, like when Wymack handed him a bottle of liquor at the banquet and told him "you have ten seconds, go."

(While that's really funny, it also shows how MUCH Kevin drinks because I think he got half a bottle down in that time. In a liter of vodka there is somewhere around 25-30 standard drinks I believe? So that would put anyone without a drinking problem on their ASS. I was a heavy drinker for several years of my life, to the point where I could be blackout drunk and act sober. I am a lot smaller than Kevin, but that would probably put me into a coma if I didn't space it out over a couple of hours. Not mention Kevin was not appearing to be drunk during the banquet. So this leads me to believe he drinks a LOT. More than we see.)

The other time we see Kevin drink is at Eden's, and around the other Foxes for card games or bonding nights. Things that make it easy to not spiral into a dark place because of the alcohol.

He's also very drunk when he gets the chess piece tattoo, and is alone that time, drowning in memories. That was SUCH a huge deal for him. And, he was ALONE.

This is why I think that Kevin probably spends a lot of nights getting wasted by himself. While outwardly he is often very analytical in terms of things like exy and relating to other people, for example his apathy regarding Seth's death or Neil's injuries. Internally, however, he is an extremely emotionally intense person.

This comes out only when he is around really significant trauma triggers, essentially only when Riko is mentioned or when he has to see him in person.

A lot of people joke that Kevin is a coward, but I don't think he is. I think the amount of abuse that happens at the Nest is so intense that the fact Kevin can be in the same room as Riko at all proves how strong he is.

I think what drives him more than fear is grief, that's buried so deep down he can't see it until he's wasted. Riko was his abuser, but they were also inseparable. It's hard to reconcile that.

Kevin is grieving the loss of a brother, he is coming to terms with the fact that someone he cared for so deeply, who was such a large part of his life, could betray him in all of the ways he did. He is grieving the fact that he left Jean there, knowing how horribly Riko treats him.

It is to the point where he needs Andrew to ground him to the Foxes, to not run back there for all of the things he has lost.

I think there are a lot of moments readers didn't get to see where Kevin gets really drunk and can't help but sob. Quietly, into a pillow, somewhere where he's alone and no one can hear. I think when that happens, he either finds Andrew or Andrew finds him.

Andrew doesn't comfort Kevin. Doesn't try to. He just listens to the sounds and if Kevin wants to talk he lets him, even though it's basically unintelligible or sometimes it's in French. Andrew takes the bottle from him and puts it out of reach when Kevin is getting too drunk to not get alcohol poisoning.

Andrew makes sure Kevin gets to bed and leaves a puke bucket within reach. For his sake, not Kevin's. On the worst nights, he's stayed up to make sure Kevin doesn't die in his sleep.

They never speak of this. Andrew doesn't know if Kevin remembers, but he does in bits and pieces. And he seeks Andrew out enough times for Andrew to know his presence is wanted and not an intrusion.

I think when he finally gets sober, Andrew is there for him like that too. Just a presence. Instead of keeping Kevin from returning to Riko, he keeps him grounded when he wants nothing more than to drown himself in a bottle of something. Years down the line, on the rare nights Kevin contemplates breaking his sobriety, he video calls Andrew.

Andrew always answers, and rarely talks. Kevin might say one or two things, but mostly they just sit there together on the phone, Kevin knowing Andrew will come after him if he thinks Kevin is relapsing. Kevin will get a look on his face when the urges get bad, and Andrew will see it and simply say "no," and for some reason that's always enough to drag him back.

#aftg #all for the game #aftg fandom #andrew minyard #aftg andrew #aftg kevin #kevin day #kevin and andrew #aftg headcanon #aftg hc #kevin day and andrew minyard

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multifandomfanfic · 3 years

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The Alley

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x reader

Warnings: oral (m receiving), some dirty talk, language, semi-public sexual acts

Summary: After a night of drinking, some feelings emerge between Eggsy and Y/N. It gets pretty hot and heavy.

Word Count: 2.1K

Request?: Nope!

Eggsy Unwin. If you had asked me how I felt about him a day ago, I would have told you that we were just friends. Maybe even best friends. I wasn't sure what we'd become after last night. It's difficult to think clearly right now. Our actions in the alleyway would alter our perceptions of one another for the rest of our lives. We weren't the same people anymore.

*the day prior*

"Hello, Y/N."

I turned around to face Eggsy Unwin, the most charming and, by far, the most attractive of the Kingsmen. I was the only one who could tell him he was cute and charming without making him feel uncomfortable. We were practically joined at the hip after he landed me a job with the Kingsman.

"Hello, Eggsy! You look dashing today!"

I remarked sarcastically. It was the start of the workday, and he appeared especially tired. His unkempt hair was concealed by his white baseball cap. His sweatpants were wrinkly, and so was his fitted white shirt. He wasn't dressed for work.

"Oh, fuck off!"

He gave me a friendly punch on the arm. I flashed him a sly grin.

"Did you have a long night?"

He scoffed.

"Not in the way you're probably imagining."

"Oi! Eggsy! Y/N!"

We both turned in unison to look at Merlin, who stood tall in front of us. He gave Eggsy a stern look before inspecting his attire.

"What on earth are you wearing?!?"

Eggsy shrugged.

"I'm sorry, Merlin. I was in a hurry this morning."

He rolled his eyes and met my gaze.

"Make sure he changes before tonight's party."

I raised my eyebrows.

"What party?"

Merlin appeared surprised.

"Didn't you hear?! It's to commemorate the Kingsman's anniversary."

I cast a glance over at Eggsy. He raised his hands.

"Hey. This is also the first time I've heard of it."

I locked my gaze once more on Merlin.

"Hm."

He furrowed his brow.

“Oh! You guys can look at my invitation.”

He relaxed his face and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a folded-in-half piece of paper. He held out his hand and I took it gingerly from him.

Merlin gave us a slight nod of approval. He turned on his heels and stepped out of the training room. I quickly unfolded the invitation and skimmed it over. I scoffed and handed it to Eggsy.

"Who thought it would be a good idea to throw an anniversary party at a fucking nightclub?!"

Eggsy furrowed his brows, causing wrinkles to form on his brows.

"What?!"

He was astonished and open-mouthed as he read the invitation.

"This is going to be fucking mental."

"This is going to be a disaster Just a bunch of irresponsible agents who are busy getting blackout drunk."

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

Eggsy completed reading the invitation and returned it to me.

"Perhaps it'll be entertaining."

I bit the inside of my mouth

"At least, I'll be able to walk there instead of worrying about getting a ride."

My house was only about a ten-minute walk away from the club. I could simply walk there instead of worrying about who would drive me home and whether or not they were sober enough.

Eggsy drew his arms around his chest.

"I can call a cab."

My weight shifted.

"You know... If we're both drunk by the end of the party, you're free to spend the night at my house."

Oh my god. Why did I just say that?!

Eggsy's head shot up the instant the statement left my mouth. I was flushing hotly. My reply elicited a chuckle from him.

"Are you trying to take advantage of me?" He smirked smugly.

I opened my lips to speak, my words faltering.

"No! I-I was just-"

Eggsy burst out laughing and wiped a tear from his eyes.

"I was just messing with you!"

He gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“See you tonight Y/N!”

He walked past me. As he passed, I caught a whiff of his cologne. Eggsy wore cologne all the time. It didn't matter what the occasion was. When I asked him, he only answered, "Is it so horrible that I want to smell good all the time?"

I shook my head to shake myself out of my stupor.

"Shit." I muttered beneath my breath. I cringed. "What was I thinking!? I sounded like a moron!"

I took a deep breath, attempting to clear my mind of the embarrassing interaction. I still had the rest of the work day left. I should attempt to concentrate.

-----

*later that night*

The club was exactly as horrible as I had feared. I used to be able to come out of my shell at parties, but I wasn't in the mood tonight. I was dazed by the bright lights and loud music. I was dressed in an outdated cocktail dress that was far too small for me. I was continually shifting I n a futile attempt to make myself more comfortable. My heels were excessively large, and they slid around my feet, causing blisters. Nothing felt quite right. I ran my hands through my hair. The alcohol was the only thing keeping me going. My thoughts were already hazy.

How many drinks have I had?

I had absolutely no idea. I observed someone pushing their way through the crowd out of the corner of my eye.

"Y/N!"

Over the music, Eggsy yelled.

He was clearly drunk. His white button-down shirt was untucked, and three of the buttons were undone. His black dress pants were a little saggy. As a result, they began to pool somewhat at his ankles. His black dress shoes had gotten scuffed. He looked like a hot mess.

"Hello, Eggsy!"

As he walked, his legs wobbled. He sat on the comfortable sofa across from you after stumbling in every direction except forward. Due to my drunken state, it was difficult for me to fix my gaze on him. The couch was arranged around a tiny table that was strewn with drinks.

"This table has no fucking room!"

Eggsy swiped the glasses off of the table to the ground. A tremendous smash ensued, but it was muted by the agonizingly loud music.

When the waitress approached our table, Eggsy requested a gin martini, stirred. I requested two shots of vodka. I needed to stop drinking for the evening, but I wanted to finish with a few shots.

Eggsy and I discussed virtually every topic. Everything was 10 times funny because we were both extremely drunk. I drank my second vodka shot and felt a feeling of unease wash over me.

"Oh fuck." I felt as if I were on a swaying boat. I was going to vomit.

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

I covered my mouth with my hand. Eggsy leapt from his seat.

"Let's get you outside. I think you need some fresh air."

Eggsy lifted me from the couch and slung my arm over his shoulder.

He assisted me, or rather, I assisted him, outside. We rested our backs on the club's outer brick wall. I felt better as soon as the fresh air hit my face. My head throbbed as I leaned against the hard wall.

"Oh my God, I had to get out of there."

Eggsy gave a nod.

"Me too."

We sat there in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable silence, but rather peaceful silence. As the booze began to take effect, I felt pure ecstasy.

"What do you want right now?"

I inquired, my words slightly slurred together as I spoke. Eggsy chuckled with his mouth closed.

"A blowjob."

He burst out laughing. I kept my mouth shut. I stared at a puddle near my feet, contemplating my next move.

"If you wanted, I could give you one."

Eggsy's grin had vanished.

"Here?!"

I turned my head to face him.

"Yeah. Why not?"

I had more confidence in this moment than I ever had before in my life. Eggsy cocked an eyebrow.

"We are right in the middle of a fucking alley!"

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Don't be such a pussy. There's no one nearby."

I was correct. At this hour of the night, this area was usually bustling with people. However, it was unusually quiet tonight.

Eggsy remained unconvinced. I got down on my knees in front of him and began unbuckling his belt. He didn't protest. The buckle clinked and his belt slid out of his pant loops with a satisfying woosh. I dragged his pants halfway down his thighs. I would have pushed them down more, but sitting butt naked on the filthy ground didn't sound appealing.

I shifted his boxers down just enough for his cock to pop free. I placed my hands on his hips. He tensed up under my touch, then instantly relaxed. I stroked his cock up and down a few times. Eggsy's breath hitched in his throat.

I shouldn’t be doing this. He’s my friend.

I placed my hand back onto his hip. I licked a stripe from the base to the tip. I looked at him through my thick lashes. He threw his head back and sighed deeply.

Too late now.

I took him into my mouth and moved slowly at first. Eggsy reached down and entangled his hands in my hair. I took more of him into my mouth. He took my hair and formed it into a makeshift ponytail. Eggsy bucked his hips violently into my mouth. I gagged.

“Sorry.”

His voice was thick with pleasure. It was breathy and undeniably sexy. I took his entire length into my mouth. I felt his cock hitting the back of my throat. This time I was able to control my gag reflex.

Eggsy was a moaning mess. Sweat was forming on his brow. I had an idea.

I took my mouth off of his dick with a loud pop. I kneeled in front of him, my hands on his knees.

“Why did you stop?”

Oh my god his voice was sexy.

I gave him a mischevios look up and down. My gaze lingering on his hard cock.

I gave him an up-and-down mischevios stare. My eyes lingering on his erect cock.

“You look hot... You should take off your shirt.”

Eggsy scoffed.

“You're the boss.”

He took his time unbuttoning his shirt. He was obviously getting a kick out of teasing me. I bit my bottom lip. He smirked playfully

He took his time undoing the buttons on his shirt. He was clearly having a good time teasing me. I bit my lower lip. He gave me a smug smirk. He completed unbuttoning his shirt after what seemed like an eternity.

"Would you be willing to do the honors?"

I yanked his drenched shirt away from his toned shoulders, throwing it to the side. I could feel myself getting wetter just by looking at him. His toned chest was riddled with sweat beads that clung to his skin. In the low light of the full moon, they glistened. His eyes glowed with hunger and need. They bore into mine.

"Do you like what you see, darling?"

His voice changed completly and was now low and raspy. I could tell he was eager for me to finish what I started. I smirked as I sucked on my teeth.

"You're hot. I'm shocked I haven't been tempted to suck your dick sooner."

Eggsy intertwined his fingers and placed his hands behind his head. Showing off his large arm muscles.

“Please. Continue.”

He leaned back against the wall, watching me intently.

“With pleasure.”

I dipped my head back down, taking his entire cock into my mouth. Eggsy let out a satisfied moan. I hollowed out my cheeks, causing even more pleasure for Eggsy.

“Fuck Y/N. Your taking my cock so well.”

His raspy voice echoed through my body. I was practically soaked at this point.

I tasted his precum. His legs began to shake. I lightly played with his balls, causing his release to come sooner than he expected. He let out a final moan as his cum shot into my mouth. I swallowed it and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

As I raised my head to meet his eyes, I began to process what had just happened. At this point, I was too drunk and “in love” to care. Whether it was real or not, I wanted to feel it for a little bit longer. I wanted to feel like we were two teens that had fallen head over heels for each other.

“My place?”

I asked. Eggsy nodded.

“Yeah. Get ready to be fucked so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.”

1K notes · View notes

lilyblyss · 2 years

Text

Apparently, I've been working on this baby since October of last year. I can't believe it's been this long, time sure flies when you're procrastinating. Anyways, this was getting a little longer than my usual style, so it's definitely gonna have to be a part 2, but tbh who knows when we'll see it, if it's requested I'll put it at the top of the list.

Word Count: 4.4k

CW: 18+, Fem Reader, She/Her Pronouns, Drinking, Sweet Talk, Pet Names, Grinding, Fingering, Public, Age Difference (because Toji, you know the deal), Public Indecency, Implications of a Threesome, Fingering, Fondling, MFM, Ruined Orgasm, Kinda old so the writing style might be jumble-y

Getou Suguru x Fem-Reader x Fushiguro Toji

You weren’t one to leave the club with someone wrapped around your waist; you usually left that kind of thing to your other friends whenever they needed a quick fuck to get through whatever they were going through that week. While you typically had hard weeks, they were far and in between enough that just going to the club, getting drunk, and dancing the stress away was enough to leave you calm until the next group get-together. However, the current week you had proved that just getting blackout wasn’t enough this time. You’d talked to some of your friends, and they told you they’d help you with your ‘get-laid’ plan.

And that’s how you ended up at a club, wearing one of your shortest black dresses, scanning the club for a suitable fuck for the night with your already tipsy friends. You wanted to be upset with them, but really, it was your fault insisting you all pregame, letting your nerves get the better of you. You take a peek at the designated driver of the night, hoping they were at least going to keep the actual goal of the night, but they just looked irritated to be there, so, unfortunately, it looked like you were on your own. You looked around the club from your seat.

The club you were going to was a favorite of your friend group. The LED lights flashing weren’t too harsh, and the lights were dim but not too dark, especially on the dancefloor. It gave the perfect cover for drunk dancing without second-hand embarrassment, but still enough light in case you had to find your friend quickly. Out of nowhere, you felt a shiver running up your spine, feeling as if you were being watched. You tried to ignore it, but couldn’t help trying to find a culprit. Soon, your eyes met with the eyes of a handsome stranger sitting a couple of tables away from your group. He had inky black hair pulled into a bun, except for a small piece in the front, and from what you could make out in the lighting, a sly smirk on his face as he eyed you up and down before continuing your staring contest. He pursed his lips, looking satisfied with himself as he let out a whistle that was drowned out by the loud bass of the music, but it got the job done, and you felt warmth rush to your cheeks at the stranger’s bold actions and quickly looked away.

You mentally kicked yourself for getting so flustered over a whistle, one that you couldn’t even really hear over the music. You decided that even with the pregame drinks currently making a home in your stomach, you were too sober to think about flirting with anyone, much less the really handsome man trying to give you his attention. So, you continued to drink with your friends until the light buzz caused you to sway to the beat of the song, loudly yelling lyrics to songs you particularly liked, and even jump out of your seat to dance with your friends.

You looked over at Mr. Handsome as you rolled your hips against your friend. He was leaning against his hand, elbow against the table, as he appeared to listen to his friend. Almost as if he sensed his eyes on you, he peaked over in your direction. You kept eye contact as you danced, feeling static run through your body as his eyes stayed on you, basically eye-fucking you. Your friend, completely oblivious to the exchange in her drunken stupor, grabbed you, pulling you towards the dance floor.

As you were pulled away, Mr. Handsome winked at you, as if he was telling you he’d be watching you, and you blew him a kiss. You felt lighter as you headed to the dancefloor, feeling a bubbling excitement at the prospect of getting laid by the end of the night.

As you danced, you felt your spirit becoming lighter. With the alcohol and music pumping through your veins, you almost forgot to keep an eye on the inky-haired man. You didn’t let it get to you, though, so you kept dancing with your friend, trying not to let any anxiety worm its way into your system. However, when your eyes found their way back to the man, there was a beautiful woman wrapped around his arm, and his focus was completely on her.

You huffed out a scoff, trying not to be too upset with the guy. It wasn’t as if you two had spoken to one another, and besides a few flirty actions, it wasn’t as if you had claimed him in any way either. But still, the way he was eyeing you up, you’d think he’d have the decency to attempt to find you on the dancefloor before trying to find some other woman to fuck.

Some guys, seriously.

Rolling your eyes, you headed to the bar, hoping a few drinks would quell your irritation. So what you weren't going to get laid tonight, you wanted to at least enjoy dancing.

Luckily you were able to find a place at the bar, leaning against it and trying to get the bartender's attention. You brushed up against a man who suddenly leaned back against the bar next to you, and without thinking you blurted, "Excuse you."

The man didn't seem to mind the biting tone, because he chuckled, "Calm down, little lady, my bad."

You looked over at him, surprised by the bass in his voice, and thanked the good heavens that this man wasn't a fighting drunk, because he was jacked. His muscles almost rippled through his tight, black shirt, and if you looked closely enough at his hand, you could see his veins when he made a fist; how you managed not to notice that when he rubbed up against you, you'd never know.

You may have been a little upset, but not fighting mad. And you definitely weren’t drunk enough to think you could take that in a bar fight. Though, taking him in any other sense was a different story.

He sipped his canned beer that you're sure he snuck in, not looking the least bit guilty as the bartender came over to you, taking your order before stepping away to grab the alcohol. You watched his large hand bring the can to his lips, fingertips holding the rim of the cup, it felt like his grip was almost nonexistent, yet so firm. When he brought the can up to his mouth, you could make out a scar running through his top and bottom, and it made you think about how it would feel against your skin. Is it noticeable? It’s probably too rude to ask him how he got it and how long it’s been since he got it, but if you told him you’d kiss it better, would he see that as an opportunity? He seemed older than you, so he’d probably find it funny, but would it be a ‘ha-ha’ funny, or an ‘I’ll let you suck me off in the bathroom’ funny?

You sighed. Were you really so sex-deprived that a man’s grip on his drink was enough to get you going? You guessed the not-quite rejection of Mr. Handsome made you a bit more desperate than you already were.

A chuckle brought you out of yourself, and there was a small smile sitting on the man’s face. His eyes never left the crowd as he addressed you, and even though you usually liked the attention on you when being addressed, you couldn’t help but think it was hot of him to do so, “You know,” he started, “if you ogle at me like that, it’ll make me think you want me.”

How could he know that while he was staring off into the group of dancers? The bartender bringing your drink gave you a good excuse to look away from him. “I wasn’t.” you breathed.

He shook his head, finally looking at you, “Don’t deny. I find it quite cute.” Leaning closer to you, lips close enough that his breath brushed against your ear, earning him a shiver. He placed his hand on the back of your stool, arm pressed against your back and his fingers grazing your butt. “I think I enjoy seeing you so flustered.”

He pulled away to look at you face to face, and you rolled your eyes. “There are more ways to see me flustered than trying to sweet-talk me at a bar.”

He smirked, “What’s your name, doll? Let me buy you another drink.”

Within the next fifteen minutes, the man--Toji, he introduced himself--had a drink in your hand and his hand sitting nice and firm against your bare thigh. He sat on the stool next to you, making you stutter through your answers as his thumb drew mindless patterns against your inner thigh, adjusting his seat so your knees were in between his. He looked amused as he teased you, and you decided it was alright for you to start teasing him as well.

You scooted closer to him, your lips brushed his jaw as you leaned to whisper in his ear, claiming you couldn’t hear him over the music. You’re sure the satisfaction was clear on your face when you pulled away because the hand on your thigh tightened. His eyes flickered to your lips, and even though you didn’t have the time to reapply your lip gloss, you still lightly licked your lips, hoping it was enough incentive to kiss you.

Was it shameful; wanting to make out at the bar where people were just trying to get a drink? It was, but no one ever got laid at the club from being worried about appearances.

No one ever got laid at the club by having wandering eyes either, but you noticed Toji’s eyes flickering up and when you followed his eyes, they were latched on to another short skirt shaking across the dancefloor. You looked at him with disbelief before scoffing, pulling yourself out of his grasp. You didn’t get it; what was the point of looking at anything else when there was someone already throwing themself at you? You weren’t exactly being subtle either, so it’s not like he had to wonder.

“Where’re you going?” Toji asked.

You rolled your eyes, “The bathroom.” Yeah, and then back to the dancefloor to find your friend. If he noticed you were miffed, he didn’t say anything, just watched you as you walked away. You didn’t look back at him as you walked away either, but you figured he was already looking for a replacement for you anyways.

Whatever, you didn’t want anyone who didn’t want you back.

After an uneventful albeit long trip to the bathroom, you scouted the dancefloor for your friend, luckily finding them after not too long. While you were talking with Toji, the group had migrated to a table a lot closer to the dancefloor, and away from Mr. Handsome’s table. Shaking off the funk the two men put on you, you smiled when your friend handed you a shot as soon as you walked over. It seemed none of them had any intentions of leaving just yet, but as long as you were on the dancefloor shaking away your worries, you had no problem with it.

The music was so loud now, it felt like it was pounding in your skull. You rolled your hips to each beat and dragged your own hands across your skin. Fuck those guys. Tonight you were going to get off one way or another. It was a universal calling at this point. You felt your friend pull you in as a new song came on. She rushed to press her palm against your back, making you bend over. You laughed out to no one as you rocked your ass against her, grinding and shaking your hips. The movement, although fast, synced with hers. Feeling her hands twist and pull on your hips to lead you only motivated you more.

As the song carried on, she twisted you around to face her. You watched her eyes drag up to the form behind you and witnessed her choke on her words. The alcohol in your system left you curious but not anxious about her reaction. You leaned in closer to her, “What is it?” You slurred in her ear.

Before she could respond, a sultry smooth voice vibrated in your ears.

You turned around, jaw clenching when you came face to face with Mr. Handsome, albeit arms now empty.

“Excuse me, little miss,” he leaned closer to you, lip glazing your ear as you swayed slightly from your drinks, “I was hoping I could steal a dance from you tonight.”

Your friend, thinking this might be something you wanted, agreed almost immediately and snuck away as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his space. His hands never left you, moving from your hips to your lower back, the heat of his hands making it seem like he was touching you directly despite your clothes. You cursed the flush you felt rush through your body as his hands kneaded at you, almost manhandling you to the music, seeming to realize you weren’t dancing as rigorously as you were with your friend.

He pulled you closer, a playfully smirk on his lips as his arms encircled your hips, pressing you flush against him. You tried to look uninterested, turning away from him, but he ghosted his lips against your neck, whispering, “This can’t be the same pretty little thing that was sending me kisses almost an hour ago.”

You were tempted to ignore his comment, wait it out until he got bored, and left. Maybe he’d go back to the woman he had on his arm earlier? Your lips fell into a frown while he smirked against your skin. Something about him was pulling you in and keeping your hips rocking lazily against his. You craved more, but your pride got the best of you.

“Well, you just seemed a little busy with something else, so I didn’t think those mattered. And I have a name you know?”

He pulled back enough to raise an eyebrow at you, but even you could tell he was amused. “Am I supposed to be penalized because someone tried to jump me before you got the chance to? You’re hurting my feelings at this point y'know?”

You put your hands on his forearms, pushing his arms away from you with a scowl on your face, “If you’re trying to play hard to get or whatever, I don’t like games.” You said and turned away from him. You didn’t get too far when his hands reconnected with your waist, pulling your hips against his again, rolling against you. You hated how much you were loving this, the feeling of being chased; your friends always said it was one of your red flags.

But it seemed like Mr. Handsome had a few red flags of his own, “Sorry to hear that,” he hummed, “but I actually like them.”

The song changed to one with a slower tempo but was very bass-heavy, and the man made sure to move you to the rhythm against him. You tried your best to appear as uninvested in him, but his frame against yours, the smell of his cologne cutting through the other bodies on the dancefloor, and his hands fondling wherever they could touch, the urge to stay upset with him was dwindling away. You decided there was no harm in dancing with him, starting to dance with him rather than against him.

You weren’t too sure if you would let the man fuck you–though if his hands kept gripping you like he was, you might–you figured at least he could be fun to dance against while you decided. Besides, you didn’t know if the man really wanted you or if he was content with leading you on.

He let out a hum, admiring you as you moved, and you couldn’t help the smirk growing on your face. You reached a hand behind you, cupping the side of his neck as his hands ran down your thighs, fingers slowly teasing at the hem of your dress. Your other hand moved between you two, and your hand skimmed the outline of his dick, and because you were pressed so tightly together, you didn’t miss the hiss that escaped his lips.

You decided to tease him a little, “A little bit of dancing and you’re already like this?”

He scoffed, but the amused smirk from earlier stayed on his lips, “If you’re worried about my control, I assure you have nothing to worry about. Name’s Getou by the way, just in case you need something to scream later.”

He said that, but when you leaned forward, hands on your knees with your ass pressing firmly against his erection, you could swear you felt the slightest twitch. You couldn’t help but laugh at him. Tough talk from someone who was already losing their cool.

You shivered when the man ghosted his hands up your spine, placing them against your shoulder and moving his hips with yours in a humping motion. You could feel your insides throb, and you wondered if he wanted to be inside you as much as you wanted him to. With the way he was practically dry humping you, he might want it more than you.

He began pulling you up by your shoulder, snaking his hand around the radius of your neck once your back hit his chest. A gasp left your lips as his other hand on your thigh continued flirting with the hem of your dress, and hinted at the need to sneak under. Your hands moved to his wrists, but your grip wasn’t hard enough to stop him, and it wasn’t as if you were trying to anyways. Your eyes closed as you continued to move against him, taking pleasure in feeling him against you. The friction was enough to excite you, railing you up. He ghosted a kiss just under your ear, but even then, you could tell his attention wasn’t fully on you, and you didn’t know why until you felt the presence of another person in front of you.

Your eyes shot open, gasping when another pair of hands placed themselves on your hips, pulling you forward, chest pressing against another’s. Getou refused to let you go though, holding fast even as you were manhandled forward.

The look Toji was giving you wasn’t angry nor calm, but a look of intrigue.

“I take my eyes off you for a second and you’re already cozied up with someone else?”

His overwhelming presence made you hold your tongue about the smear of lipstick against his collarbone, but the hypocrisy of the situation wasn’t amissed to you. Even though his words had implied he saw an issue with finding you grinding against Getou, he stepped closer, sandwiching you between the two of them, giving you almost no room to move. With the both of them pressed into you, you wondered if anyone on the dancefloor or otherwise could even see you between the two men. Quite honestly, it wasn't likely.

Getou, irritated at being interrupted, made sure his grip on your hip was tight.

“Maybe she decided she wanted better company.” Getou challenged, pulling you back towards him. He didn’t glare at Toji, but his eyes did hold an almost possessive heat to them as if Toji was stepping on grounds that weren’t his. Admittedly, since it was about you, you technically weren’t his to be possessive about, but the idea sent a spark of heat running up your spine.

“Are you implying that’s you, kid?” Toji looked at Getou as if he was a nonfactor before looking back at you, cupping your chin and making you look at him. “What’s he gonna do besides fumble around with a pretty thing like you?”

Geto scowled, “Fumble? I don’t have any problem making sure my partner is satisfied.” You let out a gasp when the hand against the hem of your skirt moved suddenly, his thumb pressed against your covered clit. It caught you by surprise, and you curled against Toji’s chest. There was a satisfying rumble coming from Toji’s chest, and you fisted his shirt in your hands as he rocked against you, his cock already hard against your thigh. With the both of them aroused against you, you were starting to get annoyed that neither of them were fucking you at the moment.

Toji smirked condescendingly at Getou, completely overlooking your rising temper, his hands sliding to your thighs, subtly putting them apart. “Yeah? Prove it.”

Well then.

Getou didn’t need to be told twice, fingers moving your panties to the side and using two fingers to part your lips and rub your clit, spreading the wetness that accumulated. You reached a hand down, grabbing at the ends of your dress and pulling it down, looking around to see if anyone had noticed you in such a shameless manner.

His fingers were precise and gentle, slowly working you up despite the growing moans leaving your lips, though you wondered if the music was loud enough to drown you out. You wanted to move your hips to move against Getou's hand but Toji had such a tight grab on your hips that even the thought of moving felt restricted.

You let out a small whimper and Toji chuckled, "I'm trying to see something, doll. Don't help him out."

"As if I need the help," Getou said, two fingers moving down to press against your entrance. "Just look at how wet she is for us." He pushed his fingers inside you, wrestling out a gasp from your throat.

Toji smirked, seeing your mouth fall open in pleasure. "Hm, for us maybe."

Seeing this as an opportunity, Toji grabbed the back of your neck and put his lips against yours. He wasted no time sticking his tongue in your mouth, making yours press against his. The kiss was messy and a bit rough, forcing your focus on him even with Getou slowly pushing the tips of his fingers against your sweet spot before dragging his fingers out slowly. You placed a hand on Toji's shoulder and the other on Getou's wrist, struggling to keep up with them both when they were going at such different speeds.

It threw you for a loop that this was happening when not too long ago, you were ignoring both men, but your body was buzzing with pleasure and the need to come was fogging up your judgment. Nothing else mattered to you except the sweet release that was clawing at the edges of your mind.

"H-hurry," you huffed against Toji's lips, hips finally moving once you realized Toji's grip was basically nonexistent at that point. The man smirked, roughly sucking on your tongue before pulling back, reveling in the groan you let out at the action.

"Would you look at that? She's asking for more," Toji said. His unoccupied hand moved to cup your breast, accurately guessing you weren't wearing a padded bra, molding it against his palm before his thumb glided against the material to find your hardened nipple. "You should step up your game."

The smile Getou sent his way was forced, overly polite in a way; it felt like a snarl as if Toji was overstepping a boundary, and you would have laughed if you weren't currently biting your lips to keep your moans at bay.

"I appreciate you trying to get me pointers, but I got this," Getou replied before pressing his thumb against your clit, pressing down against it just enough to make your knees buckle. Reflexively, you pressed your thighs together to keep his hand pressed against you.

Toji's lips skimmed against the skins of your neck, cradling your head as it leaned back to give him room to move. "Spread 'em," he whispered, and it didn't take long for you to realize what he was talking about, but you didn't obey until his teeth pressed against the skin of your neck.

You let out a shaking breath. The hand on Toji's shoulder grabbed a handful of his shirt at the pain thinly veiled by pleasure. Your knees trembled as you felt you were edged closer to your orgasm, gasping out moans. You clamped your lips together, listening closely to Getou's gasps against the back of your neck, and Toji's chuckles against your shoulder, the music muted background noise as the sound of your heart beating rushed your ears. You didn't even care that you were about to make a mess of a stranger's fingers on the dancefloor of a club, you wanted to come so badly, and it was so close you could taste it.

Except at the exact moment, Getou curled his finger against you, rubbing the tips of his fingers against your sweet spot, your friend's voice rang through the lust-driven fog in your mind, taking you completely out of the zone. So, instead of the core shaking orgasm you felt building, it was a slight tremble of pleasure so small you felt like you would cry.

The three of you looked at your friend, the other two looking with a varied range of interest, and you couldn't care about how debauched you looked, because you were sure you were looking at her with such a look of betrayal on your face. You were so close, you couldn't believe that–even unknowingly–your friend had ruined something like that for you.

Bless her heart, she was too drunk to even realize what was going on with you, so she just tilted her head at the fact you were pressed between two men. She waved at them before directing her attention to you. "Hey, we were thinking about hitting another club, you in?"

You took a deep breath to calm the irritation boiling inside you, but when you opened your mouth to answer, Getou spread his fingers in you like he was trying to prep your pulsing walls for something bigger, making you choke on your words.

"Sorry," Toji said, not sounding apologetic at all, "but I think she's gonna have to decline this time around. She'll be a little busy "

You were sure your friend was looking at you for confirmation, but all you could manage was a shrilly, "S-sorry," against the fabric of Toji's shirt. You struggled to catch your bearing, hoping to avoid moaning too loud in front of your friend.

Getou moved closer to you, his fingers somehow pushing deeper inside you, coincidently pressing you against Toji. "Don't worry, we'll take good care of her for you."

You hoped the two of them were men of their words.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #getou suguru smut #getou suguru x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jjk #this is probably some of my tamer work I think

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tinysushimark · 3 years

Text

One More (MK)

TW: mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, 1k words

Genre: Fluff and suggestive

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you guys?" Johnny shouted at you and your boyfriend.

"What?" You said pouting at Johnny.

"Are you sure you guys are dating?" Johnny said his face holding an expression which couldn't be deciphered, unless Mark was the one deciphering it.

"Ah hyung what?" Mark said eyes looking down at his glass.

"Why would you drink with your girlfriend shirtless and in boxers which have iron man made on them? And you-" Johnny pointed at you, "You're not even wearing a bra and your shorts are almost showing your ass cheeks!" He shouted loudly.

"So what? She has seen me shirtless." Mark said a little chuckle errupting from his chest.

"Oh my god." Johnny said and walked towards the dining table picking up the empty bottles of wine, vodka, beer and whiskey.

"Just how much did you guys drink?" Johnny shouted again. Nagging at you two. "Never mix-"

"Two alcohols, Yes John. We know." You completed his sentence. "We didn't mix two, we mixed four." You and Mark laughed.

"Why would you do that?"

"One type of alcohol, per time Mark debuted till now, so that is 4 types of alcohols." You and Mark giggled again.

"Guess we'll have to mix one more soon enough." Mark gulped his drink down in one go, pouring himself more.

You were getting on Johnny's nerves, both of you knew that. Johnny treated you like his sister too, because he treated Mark like a younger brother. All of you got along well before Mark said he had feelings for you. Johnny was more than happy to let you two date. He didn't know a day like this would arrive and this is exactly what he didn't want.

Mark pulled you closer, crying in your shoulder. "Why are you crying?" You whined at your boyfriend, his body almost thrown at yours.

"Mark stop crying." Johnny said patting his shoulder.

Mark usually started crying when he got drunk.

"You'll never leave me? You promise?" Mark said eyes puffed. His iron man boxers made him look funny. You laughed at him, making him cry even harder.

You knew it wasn't long before his beautiful crying face would be forgotten and he will start snorting and screaming while crying. His crying usually lasted for about one hour but today he was holding out longer. Johnny was cleaning up the mess you two had made and left you two to it.

You were sober by now. When Mark was downing wine, you peed at least five times, which has sobered you up real good. You knew you had good tolerance but didn't know that you could hold it out to even more. You were sure that this is the most you had ever drunk in your entire life. You for once wanted to have a complete blackout.

Mark always forgot everything he does when he drinks, only the recordings brought his memories back. Johnny was making sure that he recorded whatever Mark was doing when he was drunk, even today. You wanted to feel that too, the feeling of completely losing memory. You had better tolerance than your boyfriend and he was known for his high tolerance. He would down cans and cans of beer before getting drunk. Even today you and Mark had finished the entirety of your "beverage fridge."

Mark always said that it was a childhood dream of his to have a fridge full of beverages, like beer and all sorts of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks.

You didn't understand how a child would dream of that, but you agreed nonetheless. Which meant your house always had an unlimited supply of alcohol. You and Mark always drank one each when you were both stressed and burned the night out, by dancing and having a shit tonne of sex.

Mark said he wanted to drink today, so you opened one can, he challenged you. Soon enough you guys ran out of beer. Then Mark popped open a wine bottle, heating up some pasta which you had cooked a few days ago so that Mark would eat it for dinner. Then you ran out of wine. Slowly and steadily you both found yourself playing stripping games and Mark was left with nothing but his boxers.

You weren't in the mood to see him naked so you let him be.

Currently your boyfriend was snorting into your favourite shirt and crying about how much he misses his mom. He would never say that if he were sober. Uncontrollable tears fell down his eyes and you just kept patting his head as he sobbed into your shoulder.

Soon enough he rolled up in a tiny ball and fell asleep. A headache made its way to your head regretting how much you drank.

"When he wakes up he's gonna fucking cry again." Johnny said, "From a headache."

You both giggled. "Why did you even drink so much?" Johnny asked.

"He wanted to." You said and laid down flat on your back on the sofa. Mark was sleeping in your lap, a blanket thrown over him.

When Mark woke up, his hair was a mess, his eyes were struggling to open and he could barely remember what happened.

He saw you and Johnny sprawled on the couch, snoring and sleeping.

A headache hit him hard and he knew he had to puke, so he ran and puked in the sink.

Instant regret washed over him. "Did i drink that much?" He thought to himself and opened the smaller grey fridge in search of something which would help. Anti hangover shots that you both had bought.

He downed it in one go, the raw taste hitting the back of his throat waking him up.

"Are you drinking one more?" He heard you shout from the living room.

"Anti hangover shots." He replied back, walking towards the living room. That's when he felt cold and looked down at his appearance. His eyes widened and he ran to the bedroom in search of clothes.

When he walked out fully dressed he saw you sitting on the sofa with a blank expression.

"What happened?" He asked.

"I read somewhere that the best hangover cure is drinking more of what you drank."

"That's called being an alcoholic, you idiot." Mark snickered.

"You said you missed your mom yesterday." You looked at him.

"Yup, i need one more." He said and got up from the sofa, getting another can of beer which he had hidden.

Read More: Masterlist

#mark lee #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #superm #hot sauce #nct jisung #nct u #hendery #nct drabbles #nctfics #nct fanfic #nct 127 imagines #nct u x reader #nct blurbs #mark lee scenarios #nct127 mark #nct mark

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mochegato · 3 years

Text

Hope on Board

Chapter 3 - What’s in a Name

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

The morning light seemed intent on waking up Marinette. However she moved, the light found her eyes to shine obnoxiously brightly in them. What is the point of blackout curtains if it doesn’t black out the light and the light gets in anyway? She groaned and threw her arm over her eyes. That reduced the light but my no means eliminated it. She tried to turn away from the light, but was met with resistance against her movement. She grunted, cursing the heavy blankets she used during the winter to stave off any hint of chill, and turned on her side anyway.

Her face scrunched up in confusion when she heard a contented hum sound next to her. Was Tikki sleeping in her bed again? She thought Tikki had sworn off doing that the third time Marinette had clocked her with a wayward arm in her sleep… in one night. Her eyes flew open when she felt an increased pressure around her waist, pulling her closer to a body. She barely managed to muffle the squeak she let out at the sight of the man, the very naked man from what she could feel on the rest of her also very naked body as their very, very naked bodies were pressed together.

She closed her eyes and let out a long breath. If she concentrated very hard, she could just barely remember flashes of the night before. Not that they were helpful flashes for remembering the events of the night before. They were mostly his charming smile, his captivating eyes, his soft and insistent lips, his rough but gentle hands. She blushed at the memory and fought burying her face in his very broad, chiseled chest.

She smiled and traced his jaw with her finger in a feather soft touch, trying not to wake him. He smiled sleepily in response, humming happily and tightening his grip around her waist to pull her even further into his strong embrace. She giggled quietly and placed a few kitten kisses on the underside of his jaw. She sighed and snuggled into his embrace. After a few minutes, her stomach growled, letting her know it did not appreciate the vast amounts of liquor she had consumed the night before, and into the early morning, without eating anything.

She imagined Dan… David! Devlin? Hmmm. She’d have to ask that when he woke up. Derrick! No… that wasn’t right either… Regardless, she was sure Dominic would appreciate something to eat as well. She carefully extricated herself from his arms so she could surprise him with a breakfast. She stood up and immediately fell back on the bed clutching her head. Ah yes, the other after effects of a night of drinking, the hangover. She glanced back to Nick… Nick? She quirked her lips to the side, that seemed closer and further away at the same time. She wondered if he would mind her raiding his medicine cabinet to look for some pain killers.

She stood back up slowly and looked around for her clothes, remembering belatedly that hers were back in the living room. She padded quietly out to the living room and found her panties as she walked in, next to his tee shirt and she pulled them both on. His shirt was large enough on her to reach mid-thigh. Stupid tall people she mumbled to herself.

Her throat suddenly felt parched the closer she got to the kitchen. Maybe breakfast could wait in favor of water. She grabbed a glass from the drying rack next to the sink and filled it with cool water. She took a slow sip and pressed the glass against her forehead, savoring the cool liquid against her throbbing head. She leaned back against Duke’s counter and finally opened her eyes and seeing a flash of red in her peripheral view. Tikki! Tikki would surely know his name right?

“Tikki,” she whisper shouted looking around for where she had seen the flash earlier and moving into the living room. She nearly tripped over her pants and decided she might as well pull those on. She was not anticipating sleeping with him again this morning. She was going to be responsible, damn it. Maybe after a date... if he even wanted to start a relationship. This might have been all he wanted. She groaned and started pulling her pants on, cursing sober her for designing such tight, hard to get on pants. Sober her was an inconsiderate bitch. “Tikki!” she growled out, slightly louder this time.

Tikki appeared next to her with a strained smile. “Hey, Marinette. How are you feeling today?”

“Like crap. Any ancient remedies you’d like to pass on?” Tikki gave her an apologetic look and shrugged. Marinette narrowed her eyes at her and poked her in the belly. “I don’t believe for a second you haven’t some across something in the last few million years, some magic potion you could conjure up. You just want me to suffer so I’ll learn a lesson. Joke’s on you. I refuse to learn from this and you can’t make me!” She stuck her tongue out at the kwami and crossed her arms over her chest.

Tikki rolled her eyes. “Marinette, you’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being hungover,” she grumbled picking up the glass of water again to take another soothing sip. “Oh, actually, there is one thing I’d like to learn. I don’t suppose you picked up on his name, by any chance, did you?” She made her way back to her water as she waited for Tikki to answer.

“I believe I may have heard the name ‘Dick’ screamed a few…” she trailed off when she noticed Marinette wasn’t listening anymore, which wouldn’t be that concerning considering her current state but she had started breathing harder. “Marinette? Marinette, what’s wrong?” She flew in front of Marinette to get her focus back on Tikki.

Tikki followed her line of sight to the kitchen counter, more specifically, a massive piles of weapons on the kitchen counter. “That’s… that’s a lot of weapons, Tikki,” Marinette stuttered out breathlessly. “Why… why would he need that many weapons?” Her mind started racing. Oh God, she was in Gotham. The crime capital of the world. Why did she think she would end up with a good guy instead of a villain? This was a cosmic curse.

“Maybe he likes to be able to protect himself from villains?” Tikki offered weakly. “There is a lot of crime here. It makes sense that he would need to protect himself.”

Marinette nodded absentmindedly. She reached out to the knife slightly separated from the rest, staring at it with her full focus like a spell had been cast and she couldn’t look away. She was Aurora and this was her spinning wheel.

She had almost touched it when she heard a thump from the bedroom. She squeaked in surprise and dropped the glass of water, suddenly broken from the spell. Her heart was beating wildly and her mind racing with the sudden shift. She looked around frantically and made the split second decision to run. She didn’t know what was going on. She didn’t know who or what he was, but the miraculous, Tikki, was too important to risk. She couldn’t hesitate. She needed to protect Tikki.

She ran to the door in a stupor. She yanked the door open and ran out without looking behind her, leaving the door to close on its own. But, just before the door closed, she pushed it back open a crack to reach in and grab her shoes. She was scared not stupid. She wasn’t going to run down the Gotham streets without shoes on. This time she made sure the door was closed behind her. After all, she might be wrong and he could be a good guy… who has his own armory in his kitchen, and she didn’t want him to get robbed because she left his door open. She closed it with more force than she intended in her haste.

Dick snapped his head to the direction of his kitchen when he heard a crash and immediately regretted it, cradling his head in his hands to let the blood settle even as he stood up to pull on his underwear and rush out into his living room, well walk fastish. That was the best he could manage under the circumstances. He was positive that was his front door. Had Marinette left? He looked around his apartment and finally pulled open his door to look in his hallway. Huh… he frowned. He had thought there was a connection there, more than just a one night stand, but she must have disagreed.

He walked back toward his living room but yanked his foot up with a sudden pain. He pulled it up to his chest to examine the source of the pain. He pulled out a sliver of glass and looked back down to the floor. He furrowed his brow in confusion at the shattered glass on the floor. He was not nearly sober enough to clean up that mess right now. He grabbed a paper towel and hopped to his couch, collapsing on it.

He held the paper towel to his cut and laid his head on the back of the couch to try to ease his headache. He squirmed in the seat trying to get comfortable but something was poking into him. He reached behind him and pulled out Marinette’s bra. He stared at it. She left without her bra? She must not have been able to find it… here on the couch… out in the open… He furrowed his brow. He supposed she might have been in a hurry and didn’t look that hard.

He scanned the room and saw her shirt strewn across the arm of his chair. That was harder to explain. There was no way she had missed her shirt unless something had happened or she hadn’t even bothered looking. Something that made her drop a glass and leave her clothes behind. He just needed to figure out if he should try to find out what that something was. She had left without saying anything for a reason… but it seemed like something happened to make her run. And if he was being honest with himself, he really, really wanted to see those smiling eyes again. And if she was in danger… He reached out and grabbed the shirt, studying it as though it might give him some answers, missing the flash of red that flew over a building across the street.

Chapter 4

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness

#maribat #Dickinette February #dickinette #platonic jasonette #platonic adrienette #Hope on Board #Knocked Up AU #prompt - spell/potion

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0606-hyuck · 3 years

Text

a letter to my lover | huang renjun

♡ dear y/n, i’m writing you this letter in the hopes that it gets to you well. our relationship has been tumultuous, that’s for sure, and i thought it was high time i wrote you a letter detailing all the times you said "i love you" that are important to me.

genre: renjun x reader, extreme angst, supernatural!renjun, demon!renjun

warnings: death, disease, mild profanity, and alcohol consumption

word count: 3.1K

a/n: this is by far my most favourite thing i've ever wrote, i hope you like it just a much as i do!

tagging: the lovely @roses-of-the-moon ♡ @mora134340 @ncteology + @nct-writers

My love,

The first time you said “I love you”, I was trying to scam you out of your 30 acre estate.

You were being sarcastic, of course. I remember that day, back in 1853, as if it were yesterday. You were just finishing up helping your father on the back paddocks when, the second he left you alone for a moment, I came up to the fence and pitched my preposition to you. That day I was using my favourite ruse - a charming fellow from a foreign land interested in trading your property for some vague amount of money in return. I had donned my best waistcoat and breeches, made sure not a hair on my head was out of place, and fixed a practiced salesman smile onto my face. There I was, trying my best to look as expensive as possible, while you were knee deep in cow shit.

As I explained my deal to you, I remember thinking that this was going to be one of my easier cons - there was a reason I had targeted you and not your father, after all. I simply needed one of the residents of the property to sign below the dotted line on my magically enhanced paper disguised as formal legal documents and bam! The property would be mine. Five minutes talking with you and I’d be the new owner of your estate.

At least, that was the plan. When I finished my sales-pitch, you plainly looked me up and down, scoffed loudly, and stated, “wow, I love you.” You must have noticed how my eyebrows quirked up in curiosity because you added, “the hair, the outfit, the accent, I love it all.” I was still confused until you said, “I especially love how you think that I am going to be deceived by a little boy who looks like he’s playing dress up in daddy’s old clothes. Good try, though. I bet it works on the others in this town who lack the brain capacity to recognise when they’re getting swindled out of their life’s savings.”

I stood there shocked, firstly because...ouch. Did these clothes really look that bad on me? And secondly, because you were right, this had never happened before. What was I supposed to do now? Luckily, you let me know what my next moves should be when you lobbed a chunk of sloppy cow shit from your work boot onto my pristine waistcoat and promptly told me to get lost.

The thing was, dear, I was a demon. And demons are notoriously deceitful characters. Never in my lifetime - which was a long time - had someone not fallen for my tricks. Okay, so my plan to convince the Founding Fathers of the United States to let me sign the Declaration was a fail, but small, simple scams like this one were foolproof. Until I met you.

The second time you said “I love you”, you were blackout drunk and five seconds away from falling off the bar.

Before I met you, Y/N, I was a traveller. I had lived through the development of new settlements and the discovery of faraway lands, and so I was always off to a fresh destination for a new adventure. When I ventured into your town, I was planning to only pass through, maybe stay a couple of nights before I headed off to my next stop. A quick chat with the inn-keeper who had an exploitable tendency to overshare led me to you, the child of an aristocrat father who happened to own a lot of land that would likely sell for enough money to make me a virtual millionaire. Remarkably, after you turned my offer down, I felt no desire to leave your town. For once in my life, I decided to stay put in one place until I could convince you to change your mind.

I frequented your estate a lot more after that day, much to your dismay. No matter what I said, no matter how sweet I made my words sound, you refused to give up your rights to your land. It was frustrating for me, Y/N, that you wouldn’t give in. At the same time, I acknowledged I could have just walked away and found someone else to scam, but I didn’t want to. You soon accepted the fact that seeing my face around your farm would be a given, and started putting me to work with you.

Cleaning the horse stables, bundling up handfuls of hay, tending to a vegetable patch. I never saw what we were doing as work, though. For me, I used the time I spent with you to get you to talk about yourself and reveal information I could use as blackmail so you would hand over your estate. You never did, though, and although I realised this I still couldn’t help myself from coming over to your farm every morning. I’m sure your father was confused as to why I was always there, but he never complained because, after all, it was free labour.

Our relationship at this point was very much a love-hate relationship. I despised you for the fact you were immune to my demon charms, but I also couldn’t stay away from you. You hated me because I was constantly asking you to sell your estate, but you couldn’t seem to turn me away when I showed up every morning. Whether we wanted to admit it at the time or not, there was no denying that we were drawn to each other.

I saw the looks you gave me, Y/N. That time when your father joked about me being your boyfriend, I saw you roll your eyes, but I also saw the way you carefully watched my reaction to your father’s words. You never noticed the way I looked at you when you were busy working, or when your eyes lit up as you talked about your passions. I was too careful to let you see something like that.

When you invited me to the local pub for the first time, you didn’t appear to be worried about being seen in public with an unknown man. I asked why you didn’t just go with some of your aristocrat friends, and you said they couldn’t keep up with your pace of alcohol consumption. Secretly, I was flattered you’d invited me. I quickly found myself regretting accepting the invitation when you ordered multiple rounds of mysterious foul tasting liquor and downed them in quick succession. This was the night that I found out you were a happy drunk.

I didn’t touch a drop of that poison, so you drank my share for me and were soon dragging me off my stool to dance. When the live band realised they had an audience, they picked up the pace and I found myself being swung around in circles by you, pulled in close, and then unceremoniously dipped low before we repeated the routine all over again.

I was completely sober, but it was fascinating for me to watch how you charmed the socks off other patrons. I remember thinking, for a fleeting second, whether you had some demon blood in you because I’d never seen someone get along with so many others that easily. Together, we teamed up and had the whole pub rambunctiously roaring with laughter well into the night, and even invented our own dance that we taught to the others and then all collectively performed.

I knew it was time for us to take our leave when you pulled yourself onto the bar and attempted a jig (or maybe it was a jive?), looked me in the eye, and told me you loved me. The patrons around us shrieked at your admission, but I was too worried about how close your foot was getting to the bar edge to fully comprehend what you had said. Just as I predicted, you tumbled from the bar straight into my open arms, and without another look back I carried you out of the pub and we headed to your home. When we reached your estate, the same one I had just recently decided to stop trying to con you out of owning, I asked you if you were serious when you said you loved me. You turned, gave me a knowing smirk, tapped the side of your nose, and said, “drunk words are often sober thoughts.”

The third time you said “I love you”, I was giving up everything that made me, me.

“Drunk words are often sober thoughts.” That phrase had become a staple in our relationship in the months since that night at the bar. To us, it meant something along the lines of “you know I love you”. You were now old enough to be married off but much to your father’s chagrin you refused to be, and instead lived in a small cottage at the back of your estate. It soon became my home too, although we never established what our relationship really was. Every time I tried to ask you whether we were exclusive, or whether we were dating, you simply replied, “drunk words are often sober thoughts,” while tapping the side of your nose. Even when your father tried to inquire why I, the unpaid farm boy, was now living with you, you told him the same thing you said to me.

Although our inside joke was ambiguous and a little confusing at times, one thing was glaringly obvious - we were meant to spend the rest of our lives together. Neither of us knew when I had gone from the annoying conman to essentially your live-in boyfriend, nor did we know when our animosity towards each other transformed into affection, but it didn’t matter. We were happy, and drunk words are often sober thoughts.

The only problem was that I was a demon, and you were human. Because of my immortality, you would die in about sixty years and I wouldn’t have aged a day. At this point, I couldn't imagine living my life without you. I’d stayed in the same town for over a year, for goodness sake! The decision to give up my immortality for you was one of the easiest I’d ever made.

I do regret not telling you what I was planning to do, though. We were two people in love in the 1850s, and I can imagine what your reaction would have been if I told you I was a demon. I’d probably be locked up in a mental institute, or maybe you’d even call the police on me. There is a ritual every demon knows that unbinds them from their immortality, though I have never heard many stories about it actually happening because, after all, who would want to give up their slick demon tongue and literal eternal life?

The day I did the ritual, you had planned to travel to a distant city for trade on behalf of your father, but something happened with your cart and you were forced to turn back, coming home right in the middle of my turning. I like to imagine that I was probably floating mid-air with glowing red eyes, given how loud you screeched when you opened the door. I felt so bad for you, Y/N. You rushed to me and tried to pull me from the ritual, but by this stage I was in a trance, physically unable to move, and the process was irreversible. You probably thought that I was dying, and that you’d have to live without me, because you held me close and for the first time in months you said, “I love you” rather than “drunk words are often sober thoughts.”

A few hours later, the ritual was complete. In your shock at my state, the thought of calling the police (or an exorcist) had vanished from your mind and you’d stayed beside me the whole time. When I was able to, I explained what I’d done and that I’d given up my immortality for you. I’m sure you were scarred from finding me like that, Y/N, but you were just happy that I was alive and safe. Now that the ritual was complete, we could spend the rest of our natural lives loving each other.

Well, that is what we’d hoped, at least.

The last time you said “I love you”, you were dying in my arms.

It happened so quickly, Y/N. So, so quickly. One day you were fine, and the next you couldn’t even get out of bed. I watched powerlessly as you went from a normal, healthy person to someone with an extreme fever, headaches, nausea, and dehydration. Your father and I called the local physician, but even he didn’t know what you were suffering from. He thought it could possibly be the fever that we had seen outbreaks of up north, but there was no cure yet. I was told to make sure you were as comfortable as possible because the disease could take you at any second.

And take you it did.

Your headaches, fever, and nausea were so bad that you spent most of the day screaming with pain, but you eventually were able to fall asleep in the evening. I lay beside you, absolutely unable to close my eyes for even a moment in case something happened. You woke up from a series of restless fits and your eyes were wide open. You gestured wildly for me to come closer, to hold you, so I pulled you into my lap and cradled you near. Your skin was blisteringly hot, and as you looked up at me you managed to say, “I love you, Huang Renjun.”

And that was it. There was no dramatic seizing of your body or vomiting of blood. You just closed your eyes and passed away in my arms. Your skin that was so warm before slowly became cold, and it was only then that I had the sense to call for your family and tell them what had happened. It had only been a few weeks since I’d given up my immortality to live the rest of our lives together. Who would have guessed it would be so short?

I’m sorry if there are tears on this page. Y/N, we just had your funeral. I know you’d be happy at the number of people who turned up to celebrate your life. It was held inside the church with the stained glass windows, the ones you always pointed out when we walked by. I made a wreath out of some wild flowers I found growing on our property. My handiwork was a little bit shabby - I’m still getting used to this less dexterous human body of mine - but I think you would have liked it. Your family, friends, and many people I didn’t even recognise all cried. I cried too, of course. Harder than everyone else combined, I imagine.

Your father decided you’d want to be buried on the estate you would have inherited when he died, so we picked a serene little space under a great oak tree for you to rest. I think you would have liked that, too.

I don’t exactly know why I am writing this letter. It’s not like I can...send it to you. I am feeling such overwhelming levels of grief right now that I thought writing down my feelings would help, but if you couldn’t tell already by the tear stains, I think it’s just made the pain of losing you even worse. I still haven’t fully accepted the fact that you’re no longer here. I spent the first night without you in our bed, alone. Your father offered me the cottage to live in for free. Since it is part of the estate, it legally belongs to him, and I think he wanted me to have it as a reminder of you. I said no.

I can’t live in a place that is so full of you, where every corner is a reminder of the life we could have had together. It also felt so wrong to have the place I spent so long trying to scam you out of handed over to me for free. I knew I couldn’t do that to you, Y/N. I thought about traveling, too. God, it’s been so long since I’ve done that. Ever since I met you, I finally had a reason to settle down and stay in one place. Anywhere you wanted to go, I would have gone too. But you decided to live in this town, and this is where you died. So I don’t know if I can walk the same streets we walked together without you anymore.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts.” Throughout our whole relationship, I never told you I loved you. I always said that instead. It was our inside joke, after all. We never made our relationship official, either, though everyone accepted that we were together. Honestly, I don’t really regret not telling you I loved you, or asking you to be my partner. I know you knew I loved you, the same way I knew you loved me, without ever having to say it. That’s just how our relationship is. How our relationship was.

I also don’t regret giving up my immortality for you. You know I love you, and I would have done anything for you, no questions. It seemed to be the appropriate thing to do at the time, when we thought we would spend the rest of forever together. Sure, I am now stuck in a mortal body with no idea what I am going to do with myself, but there’s no way I could go back to the way I was living, anyway.

You changed me, Y/N, you completely and utterly changed me. I don’t know what the future holds for me, or how long I will even live for myself, but I hold onto the knowledge that whatever I do, I do it because of you and the influence you had, and will forever have, over me.

I think, for me, I face a lifetime of missing you, although I know one day we will surely be together again. We were never too vocal about our love for each other, but one thing we both agreed on was that there was almost some metaphysical force willing us to be together, and I doubt that is something that just stops with death.

My hand is starting to cramp up, and it’s getting hard to see the paper due to my tears, so I think I should leave this here. I can’t wait until I see you again, and I just know you will be as beautiful in death as you were in life - that’s just who you are. Remember, “drunk words are often sober thoughts,” Y/N.

Until we meet again,

Renjun.

this is my favourite thing i've ever written because i love to make myself cry!

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #nct-writers #dreamwritersnet #nct #nct dream #nct renjun #renjun nct #renjun nct dream #renjun #huang renjun #renjun x reader #renjun imagine #renjun scenario #supernatural nct

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some-stars · 3 years

Text

a very smart person in the discord, when i asked for ideas, was like “what if jaskier met lambert at posada instead of geralt” and i started a new WIP for this AU so here, have what i have of it so far. this is NOT a fic, please don’t reblog it like it was a fic, it’s literally just a fragment bc that’s all i have the energy for tonight. but i think it’s pretty cool

Lambert woke up on the floor of the west hall in front of the guttering fire, head pounding the way it never did unless he’d been up to some seriously intense drinking. When his eyes focused--bringing a fresh stab of pain right between his eyebrows--he saw an empty bottle of white gull on its side on the stones next to him. Well, that explained that.

“Oh, look, he’s awake,” Eskel said--much more loudly than he needed to--from somewhere nearby. Lambert grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut again.

“Fuck off,” he muttered, without much force. This was fine; he’d been hungover before, though not this badly since he was a trainee sneaking into the kegs in the cellar. He’d be fine, eventually.

Unfortunately Eskel didn’t seem to feel like giving him time. Lambert felt his brother’s hands under his arms, hauling him up, and groaned pitifully as he swallowed hard against his surging gut. “Come on,” Eskel grumbled, “get up, you look pathetic down there.”

He squirmed ineffectually in Eskel’s grip. “Fuck off.”

“Drink this,” Geralt said, appearing out of nowhere. Usually no one could sneak up on Lambert, not even other witchers. But then, he wasn’t at his best. He narrowed his eyes and glared but took the vial Geralt offered him and forced the contents down.

Almost immediately he felt, if not quite better, at least more like he could stand up on his own. He jerked away from Eskel, and when he didn’t immediately fall back down, he felt the other two back up a little, giving him space.

“Thanks,” Lambert muttered grudgingly to Geralt, slipping the vial into a pocket to clean and reuse later.

“Now you can tell us what the fuck is going on,” Eskel said. “You never drink like that.”

It was true; for all that Lambert enjoyed a good buzz, drinking hard enough to black out--for he certainly had no memory of getting this way--left him feeling nasty afterward, vaguely unclean, head circling with bad memories. He’d learned that a long time ago.

Still. “What do you care?” he snapped. Gods, he was thirsty; the potion helped with the alcohol poisoning but didn’t do much for the side effects.

“Don’t want the first witcher to drink himself to death to be a Wolf,” Geralt said. “Wouldn’t reflect well on us.”

Lambert snorted, blackly amused. There was hardly an “us” to reflect on anymore, well or ill. It didn’t matter to anyone what he did or didn’t do, and hadn’t that been something like what he was thinking last night? Not about the Wolf school, but--

He groaned and stumbled over to a bench at the table as a few memories trickled back. “Fuck,” he mumbled. “Were you two…”

“Here while you pounded back a bottle of straight gull?” Eskel asked. “Yeah, we were.”

“Fuck,” Lambert said again, and buried his face in his arms. He hadn’t meant to get so drunk, when he’d started. It had been the three of them, trading swigs of regular vodka, and then Lambert had gone and fetched the white gull, and…

Oh, hell. He’d started talking.

“So this Jaskier,” Geralt said, and he sounded almost pleased. “This is that bard you’ve been hanging around with? The one who wrote the song?”

“None of your business,” Lambert said, except he was still face down on the table, so no one paid him any attention.

“You talked about him a lot,” Eskel said. “Not that it was all intelligible, after a while. But we got a few things.”

“Soft hair,” Geralt said as Lambert warily raised his head, glaring fiercely. “Thinks he’s really clever and he actually is, which is infuriating.” He ticked each point off on his fingers.

“Spectacular cocksucker,” Eskel added, and Geralt nodded, ticking off a third finger.

“I hate you both,” Lambert growled. “I fucking hate you both so much.”

Eskel, the bastard, only chuckled. Geralt sat down across the table and looked at Lambert seriously, which was worse. “It seemed like you really miss him,” he said, and to his credit he at least seemed horrifically uncomfortable.

“Why the fuck,” Lambert said, “are you talking to me about my feelings.”

“I’m not,” Eskel said. “I’m just laughing at you. Geralt’s the one with the romantic notions.”

“Fuck off,” Geralt said easily, not even looking at Eskel. “Look, you’ve just been--you seemed, I don’t know, better. The last few years.”

“Better?” Lambert repeated. “Better than what? Dogshit?”

Geralt shrugged awkwardly. “Less goddamned miserable all the time. It’s true, isn’t it?”

Lambert had to think about it. He wasn’t in the habit of monitoring his own mood--what could possibly matter less? But he had to admit, in the years since he’d first started traveling with Jaskier, the winters had been...more bearable. Less like being imprisoned, more like something he’d started to look forward to--a respite, a chance to play around in the alchemy labs, brew something new in the distillery, enjoy some peace. He’d always hated peace, before, hated being left alone with himself at leisure to think.

This winter he hadn’t made it one full week past the first snowing-in before getting blackout drunk because he couldn’t stand to be sober and alone in his own head anymore, though. So what the fuck was different?

And why the fuck had he been talking about Jaskier, of all people, to Eskel and Geralt while drunk?

One thing, at least, was for sure. “I don’t miss him,” he said, spitting the word out. “We’re not fucking married.”

“But he does suck your cock,” Eskel said.

Lambert snorted. “He sucks everyone’s cock. Or whatever they’ve got, he’s just, you know, a big slut. Likes a good time. Sometimes I oblige.” And if he liked obliging Jaskier’s promiscuity, well, what of it? The man was attractive, and good-natured, and not a painful drag to be around like most people were. If some nights he preferred to bed down with Lambert rather than take his chances with a crowded inn, or share a bedroll when they were between towns--it wasn’t the kind of thing that made you miss someone. Missing people was for humans, not witchers.

And just like that, he remembered what had set him off drinking in the first place. He’d been wondering if Jaskier missed him, because he’d seemed strangely subdued when they’d parted in the fall for no apparent reason, and he’d concluded that of course Jaskier didn’t. He’d be in Oxenfurt now for the winter and spring, happily ensconced among his own kind, the friends he rambled on about all the time to Lambert as they rode from town to town. He’d be teaching classes, or writing poetry or music, or playing to some adoring crowd in a high-class bar full of rich students. And somehow, instead of cheering Lambert up like thinking of Jaskier’s antics usually did, the thought of Jaskier spending the winter satisfied and happy and in good company had settled in Lambert’s stomach like a writhing knot of snakes, until he’d taken to the gull to quiet it down.

#the witcher #idk if this is going to become anything #bc i feel like to do it justice it would have to be....pretty long #but it does start with lambert listening to jaskier's shitty song #and actively shouting 'hey! bard! idiot! over here!' and critiquing everything about him and his song really nastily #without being solicited #jaskier of course just zeroes in on 'omg it's a witcher'#and since he really OBVIOUSLY is going to put out lambert is like 'hey you wanna follow me it's your funeral. let's go fuck'#and then it just goes from there #notfic

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olive-is-i-love · 3 years

Text

Sudden drastic changes in thinking

Refusing to take your medication for no other reason than "I've been in a mood lately"

Have I slept this week????

7 hour depression naps

Therapy, therapy, therapy

"Of course I will overcome this"

I will n e v e r recover

In ten years I will finally reach my actual childhood goal

But I might kill myself tomorrow, who knows.

Look, this is the fifth time I've been blackout drunk this month, but I'm fine

Laying on the floor because it helps stabilize you

Letting water rush over your hands for an hour because it was soothing

Who needs relationships when you can find random people to fuck you

I truly think that I am worthy of people's love

Except that everything about me is corrupted and rotting

The tightness in your very v e i n s

An aching jaw because sometimes I cannot shut up

Compulsive smiling

Sometimes there is so much grease in my hair that the shampoo won't lather.

I haven't eaten in two days because mentally stable me only bought food that has to be prepared first

There is lightening inside our brains, only sometimes the signals don't connect just right in mine.

Is it mania or am I just stressed/excited/panicked

It's all in my head, I'm actually mentally stable, this is just for a t t e n t i o n

Packs my suitcase impulsively in the night to leave, but is too broke to buy a ticket.

"Stop being lazy and calling it illness."

"You shouldn't take medication. You just need to believe in God and he will be enough."

"Have I ever met you sober?"

"Yes, I know sometimes you have your moods and are completely irrational."

Sometimes I can hear the sound of the universe

I haven't been to class in over a year, but that hasn't stopped me from taking out loans to pay for them

Today I drove three hours out of town because it was that or raking my nails down my face until the blood made me stop

I tell my psychiatrist that I don't self medicate and sometimes I even believe that

I have sudden impulses like screaming for hours, tearing down a wall, ending every relationship in my life, ripping open my veins to relieve the horrible tightness. Not doing these things leaves me feeling like someone is screeching, a horrible dull throbbing that demands I do something, anything to lessen the urge.

Going to dinner with friends but not really being completely there- a silent kind of appearance when things are very distant and unimportant despite being with people I love.

Too much t o o m u c h toomuch

#mental health #actuallybipolar #your local bipolar blogger #mania

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the-real-blacklist · 2 years

Photo

The Othello Halloween Blackout Party boasted a huge, costumed crowd with Blacklisters galore in attendance. It was a night of Halloween horrors - did you see some of those costumes? - and a ton of Halloween hook ups, and you know we have the dirt on all of it. If you don’t make it into this exposé, fear not. This is only part one of our coverage of the night. Where to begin...

Perhaps one of the more offensive moments of the night was the “gentleman’s bet” between Tommy Kane and Haneul Burk. Just as the party began, the pair were overheard making a game out of who can get with the most people, the fastest. Feeling objectified yet? No? Wait until you hear the prize: loser cooks the winner a meal. You read that correctly; the person who conquers the most partygoers gets fed.

Let’s review how that played out for them. Your friendly neighborhood mechanic struck out early with one Silas Black, who was overheard refusing to take him home because Haneul was too drunk. Burk very nearly landed Alexa Caldwell next, though she slipped through his fingers after a heavy make out session in the middle of the dancefloor for something a tad more dramatic of her own… but more on that later. Then, as best we could tell with the lights out, he spent the blackout cowering in the corner, afraid of the dark, before sobering up just enough to get Silas to agree to take him home at the end of the night. Burk shouldn’t feel too proud of himself for that one though – Silas is a hunk, but his ego had just taken a hit after being rejected by Cassie Bennett, a bartender sixteen years his junior. Sleazy. Good on you for turning him down, Cassie.

For those keeping score, that’s one for Haneul.

Tommy spent the earlier part of the evening flirting with Haneul – that’s how the bet came to be – and then worked his charm on the very next person he came across. The janitor and his conquest got drunk, got dancing, and then went home together. Just like clockwork. Kane’s no stranger to the casual hookup. It’s clear this pattern is the norm for the guy. Over the last few weeks and as recent as a couple of days ago, he’s been spotted all around the city flirting his way into the pants of several other Blacklisters. So much so, in fact, that It would be easier to list the Blacklisters he hasn’t hooked up with. We sure do hope he’s getting tested.

And who was it Tommy managed to bag for his gentleman’s bet at the Blackout? None other than Dr. Brody Levi, the Chief Medical Examiner in Queens. A source tells us the pair grew up together and are longtime, childhood friends. In fact, the janitor appears to be Brody’s only friend. The doctor has been spotted dropping off groceries to Kane’s apartment, bringing him along to crime scenes –is that even legal?– and most notably, leaving together in a cab in the middle of the Halloween party after a heated kiss on the dancefloor. It certainly doesn’t take a genius to piece together what happened when they got back to Levi’s home that night.

It also doesn’t take a genius to see that Kane used him for the bet, though we expect that will be a very disappointing realization for Brody. Heartbreaking, even. A reliable source tells us that Brody is “100% lovesick” over Tommy, that it’s clear as day in the way he looks at the guy. We hope he wasn’t whispering sweet nothings in your ear, Brody, because he certainly doesn’t mean them. The way he skirted out of your building right after should be evidence enough of that. Did you enjoy waking up alone?

Final score for the night, by our count, is as follows: Haneul – one, Tommy – one. All that trashy objectification and there’s not even a winner. Boo. There were no parameters set about when the wager ends though, so for all we know it could still be going. We’re sure one of you will keep us posted of the final outcome – know that we always reward our informants.

Stay tuned for more from the Halloween Blackout. Rest assured we’ve got more in the works from this event, but if there is something or someone one you especially want to know more about, you know where to find us.

#Tommy kane #Haneul burk #Silas black #Alexa caldwelll #cassie bennett #Brody levi

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blancheludis · 4 years

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@whumptober2020 Day 3 “Held at Gunpoint”

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Howard Stark Tags: Tony has Issues, Young Tony, Bodyguard Steve, Misunderstandings Words: 3.689

Summary: The cold barrel of the gun feels almost nice against Tony’s pounding forehead, and he is not sure anymore whether it is meant as an encouragement to come closer or a warning to stay away. It doesn't matter. He only ever does what he wants anyway.

---

The pounding in Tony’s head does not stop even long after he has left the club. Not the rhythm of too loud music makes him move his feet but the instinctive knowledge that he will collapse somewhere soon and he desperately wants that place to be his bed. Bad things happen when he lets his guard down – and he could do without the lecture from Howard.

Tony knows the way to the mansion without having to concentrate on where he is going. He has made this trip hundreds of times in various states of inebriation. It does not feel like home but the demons inside are easier avoided than the ones out here.

The gate is closed and the wall of windows is dark, especially the one to Howard’s office. That is no guarantee that the old man is asleep and will not bother Tony, but he sighs in relief nonetheless. The only thing worse than a migraine is Howard’s booming voice increasing the pounding.

Without needing to look, Tony enters the code at the front gate, keeping himself upright by leaning against the cold iron. When the gate suddenly opens, it almost throws him down into the dirt. Tony is not sure he would get up again, so he fights to stay on his feet.

Once inside, he turns towards the garage. The way to his room is shorter from there and he wants to avoid waking his father at all costs. For some reason, only one Stark is allowed to get blackout drunk in this house and that is never Tony.

Once inside, he does not get far, shocked into a half-sober state by finding a strange man standing there, about halfway between the entrance and the door to the mansion. He is tall and blond and looks like he could break Tony with only one hand. The somewhat official looking, dark outfit makes it unlikely that he is a burglar – and it is well known that breaking into the Stark Mansion usually does not end well for intruders.

A new guard then, Tony guesses. For several years now, Howard has hired bodyguards for Tony, whose task was less to protect him and more to make sure he does not bring more shame down on their name. Needless to say, none of them lasted long.

The man notices Tony as soon as he steps into the garage, probably even before Tony notices his path is blocked. He straightens, which shows off his very nice shoulder line, and one hand goes to the gun on his hip. His posture is not yet threatening but a warning in itself.

“Wrong turn, buddy,” the guard says firmly but without aggressiveness. His voice is a pleasant surprise, not quite soothing Tony’s headache but not aggravating it either. “This is private property.”

A grin steals itself on Tony’s lips. He cannot believe that the new muscle does not recognize him. True, Howard’s features have slackened with the years and too much alcohol, but Tony still looks too much like him. even in ripped clothes. Beyond that, everybody knows Tony. He cannot take a single step outside without someone bothering him. And yet, a guy Howard probably hired to keep him on the right path does not even recognize his new charge. This could be fun.

“My, look at you,” Tony drawls and straightens his spine so he does not look like he will keel over any moment. “Are those muscles real?”

The closer he gets, the more mouth-watering does Hot and Blond look, even when his face darkens and his eyes narrow in indignation. Does Howard hire these people specifically for how easily Tony can bypass their defences?

A name is stitched onto the dark fabric of the uniform. S. Rogers. Not that Tony intends to use his real name much. He likes his nicknames.

“Mr. Stark is not entertaining guests tonight,” Rogers says instead of answering, standing much more stiffly now. Almost as if he is trying to take the emphasis off his muscles but managing the opposite entirely.

Tony is now close enough to realize that Hot and Blond does not only look tall but has at least a head over Tony. Leaning against a car, Tony looks him up and down with an openly suggestive grin.

“I’m sure he would like to be entertained by you.”

Perhaps Tony should not make an enemy out of the new guy. No matter that his career here will be a short one, considering nobody has the mental strength to deal with Howard and Tony for any length of time. He could still hurt Tony. The ones who believe they will have him easily in hand are usually the first to run to his father to rain down hell on him. Tony just cannot help himself, though. He is tired of Howard trying to control him, of people thinking they own him.

“Sir,” Rogers says with obvious strain in his voice. “I must ask you to leave.”

It might be an unconscious thing, but he widens his stance, eyes narrowing at Tony as if he is already picking out weak points. Tony is the weak point, the whole disappointing entirety of him.

“Oh, don’t be a bore and let me pass. I feel like puking.”

This would be easy to clear up. He could just tell Rogers his name or they could call for Jarvis. That would be too easy, though, and Tony does not like easy. He wants to know what the people around him are made of, how carefully has to handle them. Howard likes to hire those who are already a little trigger-happy before they ever meet Tony. And Tony, well, sometimes he feels as if he is made of gunpowder, ready to blow up at the first wrong move.

So, Tony does not give his name but just turns towards the door like he has already forgotten all about Rogers. It is a good thing he never let Rogers out of his sight because he has not even made two steps when there is rustling and Tony hears the familiar click of the safety of a gun.

It looks strangely hot, the way Rogers aims the gun at him. The muscles of his arm are much easier to look at. Tony could do without the pained determination on his face, however. If he will be shot in his own home, he wants it to be done with glee, not a tired sense of duty.

Tony stops and turns back fully to Rogers, openly amused at being pointed at with a weapon. The guy is trigger-happy then. Nothing in this situation calls for the use of a gun. Tony is obviously drunk and this guy could break him in half without even trying. It would be easy to simply pick Tony up and deposit him outside of the gate. But, no, Tony does not do as the nice man says and gets a barrel pointed at his face for the trouble.

Heart-rate picking up, Tony thinks that now they are getting somewhere. With just a spark of regret, he realizes he is not drunk enough to deal with this in a sensible way. Here he is, ready to be shot only to see if he can push a stranger into firing.

Perhaps people are right when they say Tony is sick. He should not be drawn to trouble like it is a magnet and he a simple compass needle, and yet that is where he goes all the time. Nobody has ever done it, either, actually pulled the trigger. Well, there was that one kidnapping where Tony got hit by a stray bullet. But, generally, people seem to think he is worth more alive and yet they never do anything to make him feel the same.

A smile spreads on Tony’s lips, growing with every thundering heartbeat. Maybe this is what it means to feel alive. His heart is stumbling, his hands are ready to grab something to fight or defend himself with, excitement stirs in the pit of his stomach – or perhaps that is fear. He does not know. Only that there is undeniably some life inside his body, for once more than just in his mind.

“Do you even know how to use that?” Tony asks and quietly calculates how quickly he would have to move to dodge a bullet fired at him at this distance. He would not make it, of course, but he has always liked numbers.

“I suggest you turn around and don’t try me.” Rogers’ hands remain steady, but, to Tony’s slight disappointment, he does not look like he wants to go through with his threat anymore.

People like this hate others being cocky, so Tony simply shrugs and says with a grin, “I like challenges.”

Then he walks forward, noticing the surprise on Rogers’ face when he manages to walk in a straight line. It also has him tightening his grip on the gun as if he only just realizes that Tony is not as drunk as he seems. Well, he is that drunk, but he knows how to pretend. That is one of the few useful lessons he learned from Howard.

“Come on,” Tony says and keeps walking until the barrel is only inches away from his face. He wonders if it would be cool against his forehead. “Shoot.”

Certainly, there are worse ways to die than getting shot in his own basement, drunk enough that he does not care for all the big and small hurts and disappointments piling up in his chest. It would be unfair to Jarvis, though, who would likely be the one to find him, the only one searching for Tony when he does not come home. That is, if Rogers would not proudly tell Howard that he has successfully eliminated a threat to their great estate. Tony wonders what Howard would do. Fire the guy, surely, but maybe give him a quiet bonus too, for dealing with his perpetual problem.

Nothing happens, so Tony takes the time to look. The guy is hot, more so from up close, even with his pinched expression. Tony wonders what he can do with these hands. That one thought sparks a flood of others, building the ultimate plan for revenge.

Slowly, suggestively, Tony sinks down to his knees. The hands with the gun automatically follow his movement, although it appears like the stranger is not quite aware of it. Like that, he looks far more menacing. His muscles are bigger, the barrel blacker. Tony likes the thrill running through him. It is something to feel other than numbness and disgust.

When he leans forward, his hands on his own knees, Rogers instinctively moves back, although he catches himself quickly.

“What are you doing?” he hisses, all amusement gone from his tone. He still does not make a move to shoot.

“What does it look like, honey?” Tony purrs, enjoying the brief panic flickering over Rogers’ face. Not his area of expertise, then.

Rogers freezes when Tony dips his head forward and muzzles at the crotch right in front of him. For a moment, the air is ripe with possibility. Then the man comes to life with a jerk and, suddenly, the barrel of the gun is pressed against the top of Tony’s head, pushing him away. It is cold, and almost as satisfying as Tony hoped.

“Mr. Stark has tasked me to keep everybody out of his home so I must ask you to leave,” he says, his voice rather pressed. Still, his hands do not waver.

The mere mention of his father has Tony rolling his eyes. It almost takes the fun out of this, but then Tony thinks of how they must look to someone else. He on his knees with a gun to his head, Rogers glaring down at him. If Howard found them, he might put that bullet in Tony’s brain himself.

“Of course, he did,” Tony says and does not hide his derision. “Mr. Stark is a raging homophobe. He’d likely fire you because you haven’t shot me already.” He pushes slightly forward against the barrel to emphasize his point. Then he adds, almost as an afterthought, “Depending on his mood, he’d give you a raise if you got rid of me quietly.”

Indignation passes over Rogers’ face, which disappoints Tony dearly. How does nobody see through Howard’s lies, his pretty façade?

“Mr. Stark is not in the business of hiding bodies,” Rogers replies stiffly.

Sharp laughter claws its way up Tony’s throat and it rings out hollowly in the garage. Their entire company is built on producing dead bodies. Granted, they do not have to hide them because people tend to applaud them for it, but the point stands.

“You must not have worked for him long then,” Tony says and looks up at Rogers through his lashes the way he knows people like.

Tony has not been home for a few days, but he certainly would have noticed eye candy like this wandering around. Which means he might be in the process of ruining this guy’s first day of work. Well, he will probably thank Tony for that, later. The great Howard Stark is only so nice to look at from a distance.

“Get up,” Rogers then orders, his patience running thin.

Tony grins and moves further in, presses his lips against the dark cloth in front of him. “Oh, don’t worry, he’s almost there.”

Tony knows he has gone too far a split second before Rogers moves. It is like a light switching off behind those blue eyes, making them frost over. One moment, Tony kneels in front of Rogers, ready to end his night with a bang, the next he is face down on the hard concrete, a knee in his back and the gun still too close to his face.

“I said, stop.”

For just a moment, Tony regrets his decision. Being pressed down on the floor, everything becomes too real. But then, that is what he wants, yes? Something real. Not Howards endless expectations for him to be someone else. Not the public’s ever-changing and ever-terrible portrayal of him. Not this carved out path that Tony is supposed to follow. Here he is, utterly human and just one wrong move away from getting some blissful quiet in his head.

He does not want to die, but he does not particularly want to live this life either. Over the years, he has done some stupid things, has even aimed a gun at himself. Nothing compares to the real thing, though. The flutter of his heart, the way time trickles so slowly. Tony thinks he can understand why people throw themselves out of planes or climb mountains without safety gear. He is alive only in this moment when that could quickly change.

“I heard you the first time,” Tony admits without showing any regret. This is his home and Howard taught him how to get what he wants – and he definitely does not want guards following his every step and judging him when he comes home too late or too drunk. It might be unfair that this guy got caught up in this ongoing war between Howard and Tony, but there is no helping it.

“Then I suggest you start listening,” Rogers growls, all out of kindness. “I’ll accompany you outside and you’ll leave without making a fuzz, all right? Then I might not have to tell Mr. Stark about this.”

That last thing is mostly self-defence, Tony knows, but that only makes him pity Rogers.

“You have much to learn if you think you can do anything to make the old bastard happy with you,” he says and means it as honest advice. “Fuck me right here or let me back out into the wild, you’re in for a lecture.”

Tony is not the only reason they never keep their staff long. People simply have enough options these days that they do not have to suffer through Howard’s terrible moods.

“He must be used to dealing with groupies,” Rogers says and does not yet make any move to haul Tony to his feet. He could, easily, and Tony would not mind being manhandled a bit if that would not end up with him back on the street. The whole point of coming through the garage was to not wake up Howard.

“Groupies?” Tony repeats, feeling the urge to laugh again, but he does not get enough air into his lungs for that, pressed to the ground as he is. “Please. The only people willing to kiss Howard’s ass are other corporate idiots or gold diggers.”

And the papers, lately, since they have found a better victim in Tony.

“Well, I don’t have to ask which one you are.”

That stings, strangely. This guy’s opinion should not matter and yet Tony has become overly sensitive to these things, if only because no one ever seems to have anything positive to say about him.

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have to ask who I am,” Tony says and wiggles in Rogers’ grasp until he can look up at him. “I hope you made him pay you in advance.”

Although that is never a problem. Howard might yell and throw around insults, but he always makes sure that people are paid, if only to keep them from talking. The new guy might not know that, however, and Tony is done being generous.

“Are you ready to leave yet?” Rogers asks instead of answering. He looks as done as Tony feels. “I can do this all day.”

Oh, Tony will destroy him. He is basically begging for it. With a small grin, he says, “I’m more interested in what you can do all night.”

“Stop talking.” The disgust flittering over Rogers’ face is sadly familiar, but that does not mean he will not crack.

“I know a way –”

Tony does not get to finish his sentence because the man pulls him roughly to his feet and gives him a shove that almost sends him down to the ground again. He groans in protest as his ribs ring with pain at the impact.

It is definitely time to end the game. Tony wants his bed and an Advil to stave off the headache he feels building behind his temples. He turns around to keep Rogers from ruining his own life any more, but does not get farther than that.

“What is the meaning of this?” Howard’s voice rings out over the garage, already on the verge of becoming angry. Depending on how much he heard, Tony will need more than an Advil to get through the night.

“Sir –” Rogers says but cuts himself off when Howard shushes him. He stiffens briefly, then straightens as if he wants to salute. The gun is back in its holster, and Tony wonders when that happened, but it is probably better for both their sakes if Howard does not know that Rogers pulled a gun on his son.

Tony turns to fully face his father – and show off his rather indecent clothes. They are not too revealing but still not befitting a Stark out in public.

“Just testing out the new guard dog, daddy dearest,” he drawls while keeping Rogers in the periphery of his vision.

The change on Rogers’ face is a revelation in itself. He looks between Howard and Tony, must see the likeness between them, and realizes how gravely a mistake he has made. It all plays out perfectly on his face, all his emotions displayed clearly.

“You are a disgrace, boy,” Howard snaps. These words have stopped hurting around the hundredth time he has heard them. “I should let him throw you out.”

He has done so before. Locked the doors and refused to let Tony in. “But you’re too afraid of which bed I’d end up sleeping in,” Tony replies sweetly. That was a hard lesson for Howard.

He must remember it too, because his face darkens further. “Get inside.”

Since he did not say Get in my office, maybe Tony cat get away with locking himself in his room while Howard deals with Rogers – who stands nonplussed in the background, likely not understanding the animosity between father and son. They are so similar, after all, and yet poised to destroy each other instead of conquering the world together.

“Don’t fire this one,” Tony says and pats Rogers’ chest as he passes him. “He wasn’t going to let himself be bought.”

That is as much of an argument he can offer on Rogers’ behalf. It is unlikely that Rogers will keep this job for long, but Tony does not want to get him fired the first time they met.

“What use is a bodyguard if he doesn’t recognize his charge?” Howard says, the words full of derision, but that is still directed at Tony.

“Well, you always say I’m nothing like a Stark, so you can’t fault him too much.” He should not sound so happy about this, should not reject the Stark legacy so often in front of his father. This is a cage, though, and he will keep rattling at the bars until they finally give.

“Get out of my sight.”

“Gladly,” Tony says and means it. A dismissal is the best ending for this night. Since there is always a little demon riding on his shoulder, however, Tony turns towards Rogers again. “Good night, gorgeous. And do come by my room if you want to get to know me better. Just so we can avoid you mistaking me for an intruder again.”

It is unfair to stab at someone who cannot fight back, not with Howard watching them, but Tony is all out of sympathy for the night.

“Good night,” Rogers says with beet-red cheeks. Belated, he adds, “Sir.” It does not sound very sincere but it has Tony smirking. This one really will be fun. It Howard does not fire him on the spot. Tony might look for him in the morning. He bets those muscles look even better in sunlight.

#whumptober2020 #no. 3 #Held at Gunpoint #marvel #fanfiction #tony stark #steve rogers #bodyguard steve #my writing #ao3

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jtavington · 3 years

Text

The curse

I recently restarted the Beauty and the Beast Edelstance.

Constance gestured for her to step into the largest circle. Edelgard's wings unfurled. If all went well, her curse would soon be over and her life with it. Dimitri could go on with reestablishing the Crest system and whatever other well-meaning reactionary policies the he intended. Faerghus and the former Alliance would raise a toast to the death of the tyrant. Etienne would have to find another monster to slay. That was what she wanted.

Constance spoke more words in a language Edelgard didn't know. Her Crest shone like a beacon between them, so bright that Edelgard could barely look at it. It flew towards her until the light swallowed her whole. The sensation of something clawing at her scales returned. But this time, whatever it was actually seemed to be getting somewhere. Layer by layer scraped away until she imagined she could almost feel the human flesh trapped beneath. There was pain, too, a sharp ache that settled over her whole body. It was nothing to the first transformation and nothing to the suffering that had given her the Crest of Flames. She stood still.

Edelgard wasn't sure how long the ritual lasted, but eventually the light faded and died. She blinked as her vision returned to normal. Her first sight was of Constance looking absolutely exhausted, her face flush and her hair plastered with sweat. "It...almost worked," she said between gulps of breath.

Edelgard looked down. Her claws were still there. She was still the Hegemon. All Constance's brilliance, all her own preparation for the end, and she was back where she started. What was worse, her first thought was relief. She still had time. As if she needed time to watch Fodlan burn to the ground. "May I add you to the list of mages who have tried, failed, and decamped?”

"By no means." And indeed, the look Constance gave Edelgard was positively defiant. "It just means that I need to revise my hypothesis, which is a typical part of the experimental process. Even an unsuccessful experiment like this one, provides useful data." The quill and parchment reappeared. "For instance, you stood there without any visible signs of distress. This spell should have been painful enough to leave even a hardened soldier on the floor.’

"I felt it, but it was far from the worst pain I've ever endured." She had to deflect before Constance asked the obvious follow-up. "Pity that I didn't have such pain tolerance earlier. I was confined to my bed for a month after Gronder.”

She expected another glare, but instead Constance's eyes widened and her face broke into a grin. It made her look young. Radiant. "Your Majesty, you are a genius!"

"Pardon?"

"A high pain tolerance would have been incredibly useful to a critical battle. As would an intimidating appearance and the ability to create fireballs." She sobered. "Even a certain megalomania and disregard for the consequences could be excused if the situation were dire enough. You weren't given inverted personality traits. The Hegemon is the monster you became because it's what you thought you needed to win."

"What?" It sounded absurd. Even if she had turned Dimitri and Byleth into pulp, it would've been impossible to govern like this. But she hadn't been concerned about governing when she grabbed the Crest Stone, had she? All they had mattered was winning and making sure that it was her vision that guided the continent and not theirs. A monster such as she was would have done nicely. "Can you reverse it?"

"I think the better question is, can you? Even if the immortality was unintentional, you are the one who created this form and therefore the only one who can reverse it. My formal hypothesis is that you are indeed a merging of human and Demonic Beast, and which aspect is dominant depends on your will and behavior. That's why you haven't had any more memory blackouts. Your human aspect is ascendant, for the moment."

"For the moment meaning that I could turn into a raging monster at any moment?" Thales must be laughing in the eternal flames. The rats always found a way to win.

"Precisely." She must have noticed Edelgard's expression because she added, "You could also transform into a human. I believe that the more bestial your behavior, the more you will become a Beast. Conversely, the more humanely you act, the more you will resemble a human." She fixed Edelgard with her gaze. "Including becoming mortal. Might I suggest beginning by trying to have friendly interactions with your fellows and not living as if you were a wolf?"

Edelgard looked at the remains of her last meal in the corner. The bones would have horrified Lady Edelgard, Princess of Adrestia. The thought of asking for teacups and silverware seemed absurd. Worse, this experiment in humanity would only create tethers to a world she intended to leave as soon as possible. A paradox: to die she had to live. But she had no other hope unless she wanted to spend eons as Dimitri's prisoner.

She looked around the lair—no, she must think of this place as a bedroom. "I suppose you'll want me to ask for some wall hangings and furs for the floor?"

"And a bed! I'm sure I can find one that will accommodate you."

It was going to be a long, painful, annoying transformation.

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shinegone · 3 years

Text

SUBJECT LINE : 𝘔𝘌𝘛𝘈 ; always accepting + I’m sorry write about the significance ( or maybe they’re not of any significance ) of flies and wendy, how dan reacts to them after her death. FROM : @pattyurs

𝙷𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙰 𝚜𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 — 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗’𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚟𝚎𝚒𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚢, 𝚓𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚜 — 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎. 𝙰 𝚍𝚘𝚣𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎. 𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎. ---- doctor sleep, chapter six : weird radio.

THE FLIES, or deathflies as daniel refers to them are simply a death omen. the first instance of the flies appearing that he can remember are of his tenth grade science teacher mr. caldwell. he hadn’t thought much of it at first, just a couple flies buzzing around the room. he could hear them buzzing -- almost LOUDER as if they were in his head. it wasn’t until the man of near forty-five came in one day with a sprawl of them covering his entire right cheek that danny knew there was something wrong. naturally when this came to pass, he tried speaking to the teacher about it, the look on the man’s face indicating that he thought danny was acting rather strange. he stopped coming in a week later . . . and the principal talked to the students at the end of that month stating mr. caldwell woudn’t be returning due to an illness. the pieces were being put together but in his teen years, the flies were the least of his problems. his shining had intensified to such a degree he felt most times as if he was losing his mind. in response he began drinking, but no matter what the flies would appear when they would, no matter how much he had to drink. they were the ONE THING he couldn’t escape.

at times, he begins wondering if it’s part of the shining at all or some other bullshit inflicted on him. aside from appearing drunk or sober, they seemingly had no consistency whatsoever on people, or illnesses. they’re hardly something he sees all the time and given his aversion to them and subsequent trauma with seeing them on his mother he is put into a heightened state of fear and ptsd whenever they make an appearance. on the topic of wendy torrance and the flies it’s needless to say disturbing, a grand source of trauma for him and incidentally the beginning of his near BOTTOMLESS spiral into deep alcoholism and isolation.

it was nine months before she died that he saw the flies, nine whole months of knowing she was dying. but his mother was stubborn, she FELT FINE, IN THE PINK -- absolutely tickety-boo. but dan knew. besides that, there was something entirely sinister of being robbed of his mother’s visage as well. that she was behind a mask of flies; thousands of them engulfing her face like a caul. CRUEL, is an understatement. the worst part of it is how wendy could see the terror and almost revulsion at the sight. INTERALIZING it into herself as if he was bothered every time he came to see her. she saw him unable to look at her -- taking it as a condemnation of her, her parenting; all of it. and he was unable to set the record straight such as it was, her decline stable but all at once a descent he hadn’t been able to see coming.

after her death he copes even poorer and takes on habits such as avoiding even looking at people’s faces -- focusing on their shoulders, chest, the floor if necessary. he doesn’t even look in the mirror terrified of predicting his own death ; not that would be even a bad thing for him at that time. his mother had been that ONE CONSTANT, the one person to even try doing better for and when she died, he felt he died with her, completely alone at the age of twenty.

somehow he continued on, whether by luck or sheer stubborn refusal to die. both wanting it, and fearing it in a way. because it had changed, he could SEE IT COMING. whenever he happens upon someone with the flies he’s apt to flee from it, almost playing the part of the crazy drunk in a way. there’s never an inkling in him to say anything unless there are few -- assuming from mr. caldwell and his mother that less equals a chance. for a few years, he would embark on saying things, to strangers, to any friends he might have. a careful word there, or even implanting suggestions in their mind even with his rejection of the shining. but he begins feeling overwhelmed. nightmares, visions -- people’s heads they’re too much, fueling the addiction into full blown alcoholism. daily drinking, drinking himself to blackout just to avoid feeling, seeing -- sometimes even BEING. then deenie, then frazier and billy freeman extending that hand to him. the rope thrown down to the man and for once he takes it.

it’s disturbing to say the least then, when daniel sees flies on billy freeman’s face. though the man was over the cusp of seventy -- he’s almost the most important person to daniel. he’s the guy who gave a shit. and it’s then, without RELENT that he presses the elder to see a doctor. it was major enough to require surgery but it worked. having saved his life, there’s a peace that comes over him.

the last piece of the puzzle is throughout his entire career of working at hospices with the elderly and the dying, he never sees the deathflies there. not once.

#insects //#ADMISSIONS : OUT.#i always called it the shining : meta #thanks pam :) ( smiling through tears )#pattyurs #illness //#cancer //#death //#MY LIFE FOR BILLY FREEMAN I LOVE A MAN !!!!!!!!#MY GRANDPA !!!!!!!#DO A CARTWHEEL AGAIN BRO #this is really ... really fucking long oof #OOF ROBLOX DEATH SOUND 7000X #alcoholism //#all my tags in this bitch

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crossdressingdeath · 4 years

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Isn’t the part when WWX makes LWJ drink actually constructed as a variation on the scene in the book where WWX is trying to sneak over the wall with alcohol and is caught by LWJ, so he makes him fall outside the CR boundaries thinking that it’ll get him out of being punished only for LWJ to punish them both while in that CQL scene, LWJ surprises WWX actually drinking, so WWX immobilizes LWJ and makes him drink in turn, allowing JC and NHS to make a strategic exit? WWX has no way of knowing1/5

that a single sip of wine would make LWJ blackout drunk, so he was just trying to make LWJ an accomplice in their illegal drinking with the same motivation of escaping punishment that the wall scene. Shooting the scene as it was in the book with people falling over walls would probably have been complicated, expensive and not good looking on screen if the other fall scenes in the drama are anything to go by, plus by making LWJ drunk and destroying his inhibitions, it allowed to set up the2/5

next scene where WWX and LWJ shares a bonding moment about their pasts to advance the LWJ and WWX bonding as friends when young CQL-only subplot, a scene that could never have taken place with a sober LWJ at that point in the story, as well as making LWJ immediately more sympathetic to the audience by revealing all his hidden vulnerabilities (Wang Yibo did such a good job acting in that part of the scene!). So imo, that scene is way more than just a throwaway gag. And yeah, the talisman3/5

seems overpowered, though iirc it was more of a body control talisman than a mind control talisman and one which seems to be activated only at very close distance, so it’s not really some plot changing magic because if a cultivator gets that close to you, way worse things that a control talisman can happen. Actually, nothing in the scene goes against the interpretation that it requires big amounts of energy to activate4/5

or that it’s a talisman WWX invented himself and never released to the public.5/5

Here’s the thing. WWX didn’t know one sip would make LWJ blackout drunk? Sure, okay. You know what he did know? THAT LWJ DIDN’T WANT TO DRINK ALCOHOL. THAT IT WAS AGAINST THE RULES THAT LWJ WAS DETERMINED TO UPHOLD AT ALL COST. THAT FORCING SOMEONE TO DO SOMETHING AGAINST THEIR WILL IS WRONG. It’s not about him not knowing that LWJ is a Super Mega Lightweight, or about him giving JC and NHS a quick exit, it’s about him forcing LWJ to drink against his will and without his consent! Also I’d argue that them talking about their pasts in the next scene makes it worse, because that is information that LWJ would not have shared with WWX at that point in the story if he was sober. That was deeply personal! Honestly I’m of the opinion that even if WWX was going to force LWJ to drink and (granted, accidentally) get him drunk, he should have stopped him from talking about his past because LWJ is a deeply private person who would not have shared that with WWX if he was in his right mind. Not to mention that LWJ canonically does not remember anything after he drinks, so it’s not a fair and equal exchange of information; it’s WWX getting deeply personal information about LWJ that he remembers while not giving LWJ anything after LWJ wakes up and, if I remember right, not even telling him LWJ gave him such personal information. Even if WWX doesn’t know LWJ won’t remember anything, as someone who drinks A Lot he probably knows drunk people don’t always remember what happened the next day. You say this scene could never take place at this point in the story if LWJ was sober? I say that that means having it take place at this point in the story is a representation of a huge betrayal of LWJ’s trust (what little trust he had in WWX, anyway) on WWX’s part.

And if WWX and LWJ falling off a wall wouldn’t have looked good, they could have filmed at the front gate and handwaved WWX using the main entrance instead of climbing over the wall with him being tired or something, not to mention that it not looking great has never stopped them before and doesn’t stop them after this point. Yeah, this scene is a variation on a scene in the novel, but the addition of alcohol and a talisman that allows WWX to force LWJ to do what he wants to it as opposed to a simple push during a fight makes it way more complicated than just changing the setting or order of events!

And also... you say it was to show LWJ’s hidden vulnerabilities early on. First off, they did a good job of setting up that there were hidden, more vulnerable parts to him with Wang Yibo’s excellent microexpressions; they could easily have left it at that and then added a scene during the Yin Iron thing or in the Xuanwu’s cave where the two of them have a heart to heart about their pasts with both of them sober and fully aware and avoided this whole mess. Second... they didn’t have to. LWJ is pretty damn popular in the novel fanbase without having to spill his backstory the first time he and WWX are alone together! CQL could’ve just had someone mention that LWJ’s parents were dead, and then had WWX ask about it at a time when they were close enough that such a question would be reasonable. Or have LWJ choose to tell him at a time when LWJ is comfortable with it, showing him opening up to WWX and letting himself be seen beyond his outer appearance and mask of cool disinterest! I’d say that would be much more effective than having LWJ get drunk and spill the beans because that’s just what he does when WWX asks him questions while he’s drunk!

Also re the talisman itself, a) whether it’s body control or mind control doesn’t really make much of a difference as far as what it does is concerned as it still seems to allow WWX to force whoever’s affected by it to do whatever he wants them to and b) if it’s a talisman, WWX can presumably use it the same way he uses any other talisman, and he can launch those things pretty far; he just didn’t have to because LWJ was right beside him. Also I’d argue the fact that there’s no evidence of WWX having any difficulty activating suggests that if nothing else it’s not exhausting to use, and in situations like... I don’t know, the Xuanwu cave with WC or the fall of Lotus Pier where being able to take control of the person giving orders would make their situation way less perilous I’d argue a little exhaustion would be worth it anyway. It’s the same problem as the donghua giving WWX the ability to rip out golden cores only for him to not use it after it’s introduced; if you give someone a power that could change the sequence of events significantly, you have to explain why they’re not using it in situations where it would be useful.

#cql #the drinking scene #lan wangji #wei wuxian #anon #asks

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