#because like. she DOES give a shit. she's SO human. but her defense is humor and acting and chaos– sowing doubt– and | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

velvetwarfare · 6 months

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while my fever lowered a bit I wanna talk about the differences between my bb girls long post ahead

I differentiate them by both icon border and by referring the default to Betty whereas COS is Bethanne ✨

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘

- A humanoid strand of vampirism. She was willingly turned by an ancient vampire in an effort to save the Leathe townsfolk better, growing tired of her squishy, mortal body and watching her family constantly die around her.

- LARP based. More crack shit friendly. Lighter themes.

- Stats ✨

- Shavali (homebrewed version of Vistani). Slavic-Romanian. Speaks mainly Russian.

- Victorian gothic aesthetic. Feminine lean. Can dress androgynous, prefers dresses and makeup more. Very elegant and fanciful, likes to douse herself in jewelry and wine to feel more uppity (PTSD from her past).

- Her backstory consists of formerly being a bard in Al’Hazir, practicing jests and crude humor only to earn extra coin rather than produce her own content due to the rich despising how light hearted it was. Because of her poverty and lack of home as well as family, and due to her intense desire to survive no matter the odds, she unwillingly changed her entire persona to fit her boss’ needs. Eventually, she went mad with how many times she had to strain and break her true self in order to just live, and came across the last performance for Deity’s Eclipse (Halloween). Seeing that the richer folks could afford prosthetics and costumes, Betty was only left with a dingy vampire cloak and begging for any sort of fangs. Being denied and told if she fucked up her performance in front of the neighboring city’s higher ups, she’d be cast outside to die in the winter, Betty resorted to shaving her canines into fangs herself with only a nail filer. This proved to be foreshadowing for when she became a true vampire — nobody telling the difference due to her canines having already been shaped to be fangs.

- Melancholic, pessimistic, has an awful view on humanity. Covers it all up with crude humor as a defense mechanism. Severe BPD. Doesn’t know how to take shit seriously because she has been masking for literal decades. Secretly VERY empathetic and gets attached easily from loneliness. Mentally incapable of not being a downright bitch with sharp sarcasm 90% of the time (ingrained defense mechanism). Wants her own children but can’t biologically create one as an undead so she’ll just adopt any fucking person she deems worthy LOL. Pansexual, no lean. Likes to sleep around. Does not give a shit about social normality.

- The Forgotten Realms brought out her serious side though — blood magic and becoming a sort of general and all to a bunch of Skaven. She’s very much used to violence and death due to this. Doesn’t bat an eye at bloodshed. Isn’t opposed to it either. Just don’t ruin her carpet or attire.

- H.arley Quinn, H.ormone Monstress, and S.pinel coded.

- Noel’s Lament as a theme song. Memory by Cats is her human theme.

- Easy to ship with. Easy to interact with. Very laid back and flexible.

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄

- An unwillingly turned vampire spawn with a heavy strand of animalistic Nosferatu (beast-like spawns turned from a beast of a vampire lord, the most severe and fatal out of all the covens. usually, people don’t last long as this version of undead due to how it wrecks the body and mind. those who live are absolute killing machines.) . Lived in a very healthy vardo and settlement before they were slaughtered by her vampire lord.

- DnD (Curse of Strahd) based. Dark themes present. Both controversial and touchy subjects. A grim turn on the default Betty.

- Vistani and highly spiritual, doesn’t care for the Gods (they both share that tbh). Speaks in Patterna and Romanian. Has Celtic traditions. Was never a city folk, she has 0 idea how to socialize with people, was raised off the grid.

- Stats and bio ✨

- Very androgynous. Muscled as fuck. (see s.triga or k.arlach) Literally just wanted to be a pretty princess before her body got disfigured and cursed as all hell. Extremely insecure over her appearance due to the looks she always gets from people (unwillingly intimidating). Barbaric and vintage vampire aesthetic. War paint. Envies other vampires for looking more normal and humanoid. Her wild shape is corrupted as well — to be a giant bat beast just like her vampire lord. Dreads how monstrous she is, just wants someone to find her pretty again.

- Bethanne grew up in a decently small sized vardo and settlement before being turned. Mama Andreá, a small elderly woman, was a psychic who ran a traveling business where she would read fortunes and read people’s souls. Catarina was her elder sister who taught her how to read nature and defend herself in the dark forests. Florin was her younger brother, who she mainly raised when Andreá fell ill. They all made up who she still is today — and without such humane love, Beth would have fell complete victim to the fatal strand and turned fully into a beast. Any souls that Noctus takes will never rest in peace due to his curse — and Bethanne is prophesied to be the one to behead him and set all the souls free due to escaping from his grasp and actively fighting the strand that’s always trying to corrupt her body.

- Pessimistic tendencies, but tries to stay optimistic for the sake of her party and hope to lay her family to rest by killing Noctus (her vampire lord). Any modern reference goes right over her head. Any social aspect goes right over her head. She is so fucking confused by society, I swear to god. You’re going to have to teach her everything normal. She knows how to read and write though, she loves to write poetry to vent. Excellent crafter, made all the toys for her vardo. Excellent at weaponry and archery. Knows tarokka. Was given a deck by Cassandra (Strahd in disguise as a Vistani woman, but no one knew it was her at the moment) as well (on request, but she already knows how to use it due to Mama Andreá having been a literal psychic who dealt with fortunes and divinity.) Humanity treats her like shit out of fear due to all the undead attacks, but she still loves humanity and continues to protect them despite her reluctance to. Highly and openly empathetic but has sarcastic tendencies. Usually pretty stern and serious, exhausted 25/8. Literally dreads her own existence because of how tiring it is to live with the curse and constant death around her. Everyone she’s loved so far has fucking died so she firmly believes her existence is a curse in itself that causes anyone who gets close to ultimately die. Is petrified to love. Wants to be loved so bad it’s ridiculous.

- When I fucking tell you she is HELLBENT on the hero complex. Not only was she forcibly turned, forced to leave her vardo at the City of Judgement, got this heavy ass prophecy shoved into her arms, and gets the nastiest backlash from the living just for existing as a vampire spawn, and having everyone she loves die around her, she believes that saving her loved ones and setting the souls free will be enough proof that she’s fucking worth something other than misery and failure. It’s not going well LOL this is COS everything goes wrong. She protected her first love interest until the very end until he caught feelings for her then got straight up kidnapped by one of the main antagonists — where he’s been actively tortured and experimented on slowly in an unknown location. She just found out about Cassandra and her true identity and is about to beat her ass silly for forgetting her Vistani ties but then she’ll try to save her ass too. It’s even worse because Vistani are so built on this foundation of acceptance and love and these two were originally two innocent Vistani women who may have even known each other in the past before getting entirely DESTROYED by vampirism and status. They both have the WORST mental health and PTSD too rest in pieces holy shit

- Hates violence but will instigate it over a short temper. Jokes about needless violence just to be a cunt with her weirdly dry sense of humor. Verbally harsh as hell and dangerously outspoken. Her intimidation comes from both her tongue and appearance. Has made a kid shit his pants before, and that was actually unintentionally JGHFHCVCH ,, has told a God and a devil to go fuck themselves, regrettably told Cassandra on their first meeting to fuck off because she was in a real shit mood at the time and Cass was joking about the fates not telling her if Beth would be tall or short (she’s 3 inches taller than Beth and Beth apologized later on and said she’s a train wreck to which Cass just stares at her and asked if the only reason she wanted to speak to her was to say she’s a train wreck and followed it up w it’s obvious you’re a train wreck and Beth just dead panned and asked her if she’s always such a cunt I fucking LOVE them LMAO) , has threatened an ENTIRE FUCKING AREA OF ROYAL GUARDS with her axe because one of them was being racist and threatened her party’s safety, threatened Ireena’s fucking brother too because he was just as bad as the guards and she HATES authority. Vaguely threatened the council of Ravenloft for corrupting Cass in conversation only. probably will threaten them in person honestly, especially if it’s just a group of pompous dudes. she hate hate HATES men in power — and so does Cass LMAO these two are going to be HORRIFIC

- Low key C.armilla coded, M.erida, K.arlach, A.lucard, and E.da coded.

- All the Saints of Notre Dame theme. The entire Brave soundtrack. Any Celtic or Viking song. Skål by Fuimadane.

- Not that hard to ship with, she’s just heavy baggage and looks like a monster for the most part so not many people cared to ship w her.

#out of the keep 🐀

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 3 years

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Pining/romanced companions react to a sole who got stuck in the oddest place in the most awkward position + helping them out but it involves some awkward touching and positioning! (Ps i love reading your blog, always makes my day 😁❤)

(Thank you so much for your patience, lovely!)

Cait:

"Ha! Oh wait, I'm sorry- I shouldn't laugh atcha. Don't give me that look, I'll get you out- just...wish I had me one of those working cameras."

Her automatic way of deflecting her awkward feelings was by trying to use humor.

Despite that, she is honestly pretty chill with the situation. Cait herself has very little shame, so the very most she would feel is discomfort in fear of overstepping some of your bounds with the way she has to touch you.

Curie:

"Sacrebleu! Are you alright? Can you still move all of your limbs..? Just, remain calm madam/monsieur, I'll go get help!"

Her first priority is to make sure that you can safely be released- not even once thinking of the inevitable.

She of course is aware of her feelings towards you, being practically slammed with them each and every time you smile at her. However that feeling of pining doesn't interfere with her ability to ensure your well being. All feelings put aside, she will not rest until she has you out.

Danse:

"....*curses under his breath*...Don't worry soldier, I'll have you out in no time."

Wouldn't it have been nicer just to have shot him in the foot? Danse surely thought so. Once he assessed you and found that you were physically okay, his gut would clench up with nerves- having realized what his next step would be.

It was so silly, he was a grown man- a Paladin for Pete's sake, and he was reluctant to grasp you in such a way just because of his feelings for you. For this, he would later ridicule himself.

He's absolutely dead whenever he realizes that at one point he has to stand directly in front of you to free you, inadvertently putting your face close to his crotch. Yes, his souls just completely leaves his body after that.

Deacon:

"Shit, well- let me go get the oil and we'll see what we can do."

No. Just no.

Deacon doesn't like being touched himself, so holding you in such a light as well combined with his general discomfort for human contact leaves him in a very tough predicament.

He isn't kidding. He will go get the oil goddamnit.

Gage:

"Woah, must be my lucky day! That's quite the nice view you're providin' boss. Hey, I'm just joking.."

He's not.

Gage knows better than to overstep his bounds..but he also knows when a glorious opportunity presents itself.

If only for a moment, he will unashamedly take in the view before -quite terribly- attempting to force you out of whatever you are stuck on.

Hancock:

"Well well, this sure is one heck of a pickle you've gotten yourself stuck in...heh, not funny? Too soon? Well never mind that then, sit tight."

Hancock? Uncomfortable with touching someone? Please.. Okay, maybe he is a little nervous about doing it to you, but that doesn't mean he is going to show it one little bit.

He'll play it cool, get you free in no time.

Macready:

"Hey boss...you do know that this wasn't a part of the route, right? I'm just joking, sheesh. Relax, I'll um, well, I'll try.."

Does he seem like he's doing good? Because internally? He's a hot mess.

Macready is pretty immature, so the mere thought of having to touch you mad position you in suggestive ways makes him both chuckle and blush like an idiot. Had you been anyone else, he probably just would've said "tough luck."

Maxson:

"Fuck.."

He didn't even mean to say something so brash, it being "unbecoming" of someone in his position to do so. In his defense, he couldn't think straight after seeing you in such a compromising position- his mind torn between thinking of how screwed you both were if you were ambushed..and how he'd have to pull you out of your position by some rather unfavorable means. Well...he wouldn't mind them too much.

Nonetheless, Arthur ends up fumbling terribly and making a fool out of himself more than he already had.

Nick:

"Dear heavens, okay kiddo, I need you to stay calm and still.."

Those feelings he harbors for you play no device in this. All he knows is that he needs to get you free.

Old Longfellow:

"Now how in the blazes did you wind up like that? No wonder you were taking so long cap'n, heh, I'm just pulling your leg.....literally."

Gets a kick out of it, not even thinking about the fact that he was actually going to have to maneuver you around-

However he is no child, he's touched plenty of ladies/men in his lifetime. But..feelings do complicate things, don't they?

Piper:

"For the love of everything good.."

She's totally cursing herself at this point, only to look down and blush when she realizes you thought she was making a remark towards your current predicament. Afterwards she'd make a huge deal about telling you that isn't at all what she meant and how sorry she was...rambling so much that you current position is lost on her until you give an irate "ahem".

Preston:

"Oh damn, um, just let me know...*starts trailing off* if I need to stop..."

Oh god, oh fuck..why did he just say that?!?!

He instantly is reduced to a bumbling mess. His usual smooth charisma being reduced down to the equivalent of a super mutant's.

Please have mercy on him. He might even make himself get stuck too..

Sturges:

"Shucks, uhhh- dontcha worry one bit, I'll get ya out of there."

He doesn't know whether to think himself lucky or cursed.

He's had his fair share of being stuck himself, so he at least knows how to move you around just in case that was an issue. That being said, he can't get the vision of your forced position out of his head no matter how hard he might try.

X6-88:

"How do you even manage to do these kinds of things? Never mind that ma'am/sir, remain as still as possible."

By nature, X6 is unreadable. His emotions hardly ever seem to surface, this predicament brings forth no exceptions.

Even if on the inside he is doing a little victory dance.

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btsfaris · 4 years

Text

bugboy (m)

pairing: mark lee!spiderman x reader.

words: 7.4k

genre: smut, humor, fluff, action. hella angst.

a/n: thank u to the reader who recommended me to join both of my favorite worlds together and create this masterpiece :’) <3

You always wondered why life teased you this way? Why God made Mark Lee, the cutest and smartest boy in Queens exist in your lifetime, yet make him so unavailable to you. It was simply just plain, unfair torture to you.

You’ve known about Mark since high school, others might think of him as nerdy and even a bit weird whenever he runs out of a room abruptly — but you always excused it as a need to go to the bathroom or a family emergency, just like he always said. Despite that fact, he was practically flawless. Always top of his class and sweet to everyone, even to Flash, who never returned the kind gestures.

Truthfully, you have never spoken to your high school crush because that’s exactly what he is, a crush and nothing more. Of course, there have been times where you’ve bumped into each other at social events or in the hallways, but your anxiety always got to you and you’d practically run away whenever he said a simple hello or smiled at you.

It didn’t help he was extremely gorgeous either, soft wavy brown hair and big doe eyes that could make any girl drop to their knees — literally. He was taller than most guys and his style wasn’t as basic, just casually trendy. Mark wasn’t exactly popular but he was well-known for his internship at Stark industries that he got freshman year.

Basically you never had a chance with him in high school even if you dreamed about it, because Mark was the school’s it-guy and you were just, nobody. Just a random classmate he had and that was all. Not to mention he was always pining after Liz Allan, then once she moved, it was MJ. So no chance there.

Now that you’re in college, you had hoped that your stupid crush would go away and you’d meet a nice guy who would sweep you off your feet. But as luck will have it, when you’re moving into your dorm you see Mark on campus with a couple of his close friends, all helping him move stuff into a dorm as well. Great.

So that’s where you are now, into your second year of college with your high school crush; who has now become your college crush and will quite possibly be the death of you. You can only hope that he doesn’t go to the same graduate school as you. You’ve managed to go this far without him noticing you though, because it would probably be too embarrassing for you if he remembered you as the weird girl who would run out on him. You’ve gone this far.

Until tonight of course.

You’re at a party, not one you wanted to go willingly but your roommate forced you from your warm cocoon of a bed and season 6 grey’s anatomy on netflix, with the words “you never leave the room and I need a sober friend to make sure I don’t have my nudes leaked,” so here you are.

Leaning against a wall in an empty corner, watching as your fellow students drink their kidneys to shit and dance practically in their underwear. Some are either in the bathroom getting coked up, or getting cocked down. The music is blasting loudly in your ears and you hum along to the beat of a whiny pop song that’s popular this week. Your roommate had ditched you a long time ago to go “dance with a guy” but you know that it’s code for ‘I’m getting dick tonight.’

You’re on your second cup of some mixed fruity punch that is spiked with 3 different hard liquors but you don’t really care since you didn’t pay for it. Serving yourself another cup, you turn around and scan the large room. Everyone in the dance floor is packed so closely together like a can of sardines. Your eyes land on a familiar adoring face that makes you smile, he’s wearing a red flannel and a random band tee with black ripped jeans.

He’s talking to some of his friends but a random girl is on his side, practically crawling for his attention. You laugh at the scene and it’s almost like he recognizes it, because when his eyes look around, they land on you. You don’t look away as usual, and he stares at you for a moment before he smiles. An actual, soft smile that makes you want to hug him and kiss his face.

Instead you turn around as fast you can, walking to the front door. You’re halfway down the driveway when you hear someone calling you.

“Hey!” You turn around and see Mark jogging softly to you, the same smile on his face, “you went to the same high school as me right?”

Oh my god, what the hell are you supposed to say.

“Y-Yeah,” you manage to blurt out and his smile actually widens. Holy shit.

“Cool, thought I recognized you,” he says, his brown eyes sparkling under the moonlight, “so you go to Empire State Uni too?”

You nod, trying to keep your composure.

“Funny, wonder why I haven’t run into you before..” you blink at him.

“Yeah.. um, I should, probably go get my friend–it’s getting late,” you stammer and avoid eye contact, trying to move around him.

“Hey wait,” he stops in front of you again, hands raised in defense, “did I do something to you in high school? I’m sorry if I did, I tried to be nice to everyone.”

You shake your head immediately, “no you didn’t, it’s just you’re Mark Lee–”

“And you’re y/n, the girl who always runs away from me,” He gives you a soft grin that makes you weak in the knees.

“You know my name?” you ask him, confused.

“Yes of course, everyone knew who you were,” he chuckles, “you tutored a lot of people, not to mention head of the homecoming committee.”

“Oh yeah that, haha,” you let out a weak giggle, completely embarrassed.

“I think it’s cool that you helped out so much, I wish I were that nice,” Mark compliments you.

“But you’re Mark Lee, you’re nice to everyone, even to that know-it-all Flash. If anyone is admirable, it’s you,” you say without a single thought.

His eyes widen slightly and you blush immediately in shame at your outburst.

“You think I’m admirable?–”

“I gotta go! My friend needs me!” you charge past him successfully this time and run into the house without another look, “bye Mark!”

“A little birdy told me you were talking to Mark Lee at the party, spill the tea!” Your roommate Jisoo squeals, jumping on your bed. You bounce lightly, taking out your headphones and scrunch your nose at her, “I’m working on my History essay right now.”

“Whatever- Tell me all about your sexversation with Mark!”

“What? How do you know I talked to-“

“Doesn’t matter! Spill!”

“Nothing happened, he remembered me from high school, that’s it. There was no sex involved.”

“So you didn’t run out on him like you always did before? You had an actual conversation with him like a normal human being right?”

“Yes, sort of, kinda?” You push your reading glasses up your nose bridge, “he knew my name.”

“Oh my god!” She squeals three pitches higher than usual, making you groan, “he’s in love with you, he remembered you from high school!”

“No he isn’t, he mentioned that I tutored before so I probably helped one of his old pals, not a big deal,” you mutter, eyes focusing back on the laptop.

“Y/n, honey, how mad would you be if I smacked the sense back into you?”

“Don’t you dare Jisoo, I will hide all of your nice panties when you have a dick appointment,” you warn, and she sighs in frustration.

“Fine! But when you guys fall in love, don’t say I didn’t tell you so!” She singsongs, moving back to her bed to finally leave you at peace.

She’s completely crazy.. right?

Midterms were getting closer and closer as the days went on. It has been a while since your little encounter with Mark at the party and your roommate had finally stopped bugging you about it. Your life was going back to normal, despite you constantly revisiting that moment in time where you actually held a conversation with the love of your life. Still, you had bigger things to focus on and a degree to get, not some fantasy-land boyfriend.

You’re at the library, having been studying your brains out for the past 3 hours and it’s honestly all turned to mush at this point. Too many things to stuff into your head all at once and you sigh, rubbing your eyes in frustration. All you need is a nice cup of coffee to regain your senses and energy back, but you also don’t want to lose your spot either. Resting your head in your arms, you close your eyes for a moment, composing yourself to go back to another 3 hours of cramming.

You feel a soft tap on your arm, and raise your head, looking at a smiling Mark once again. He’s sporting grey sweats and a Midtown High hoodie. “I brought you a cup,” he says shyly, placing a cup of coffee in front of you, “you looked like you needed it.” You look at the cup and back at him awkwardly.

“You probably don’t want to talk to me.. so I’ll go study somewhere else,” his smile slips away slightly, and he turns around to walk away.

“Mark, wait,” you call out, and he stops in his tracks.

“You can sit with me, I don’t mind,” you manage to say and he turns to you with raised brows.

“You sure? I-I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he lightly blushes and you almost visibly swoon at his cuteness.

“Please,” you smile softly, “I could use your company.”

Mark blinks at your words before his face breaks into the cute, goofy grin that you’ve only seen when he’s with his friends.

After that day, Mark has become your friend, though could you even call him that? I mean, he always hangs out around you now, brings you coffee when you need it and helps you study with that big brain of his. You admire him really, how he manages to get straight A’s, go to classes everyday and work at his internship is beyond you. You can barely keep up with your 8am classes, let alone work and study full time. He’s as amazing as he was in high school and it does little to help your heart from yearning for him as something more.

Despite the big step of becoming close to Mark, you still don’t have a chance, especially now that you’re technically friend zoned right? Even then, Mark is still Mark, still handsome as ever and completely out of your league. If he wasn’t popular in high school, he certainly is now. All the girls in the university have their eye on him, including Gwen Stacy, quite possibly the most beautiful girl on campus. She is a chem major, just like Mark and as equally well known as him.

They were perfect for each other actually, even if you dread the thought of it. You know you should probably stop talking to Mark if you want to move on like you had planned, but he is such a sweet person that you couldn’t possibly just ignore him like that. With his big puppy eyes looking at you, soft lips that you could kiss for like, ever-

“Earth to y/n!” One of your group partners for your finance project taps your notebook with their pencil, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Huh? Sorry!” You cough, refocusing on the project. “Anyways like I was saying, we should set up a chart, for the company budget cuts-“

Before she can continue, the floor beneath you trembles and the walls shake in the library. Everyone looks around confused before another loud rumble is heard, following screams. Your eyes widen as everyone runs out to find out what all the commotion is. As you make it outside, you halt in your step when you look up. You’re not sure what it is at first, until mechanical tentacles start to swing around, gripping on to surfaces.

“Where is he?!” The man at the top of the machine yells, “I know spiderman is on this campus! Where are you?!”

Everyone begins to run away as he walks closer but you stay put in shock, “Fine! I’ll make one of you tell me where he is!” You look as he zones in across from you, right on Jisoo who is equally as scared and doesn’t move from where she is. He raises one of his arms to grab her but you push her out of the way, “Jisoo run!”

You feel something wrap around your waist, lifting you up roughly into the air. Letting out the loudest scream you’ve ever done, you try to get out of his grip as he lifts you in front of him.

“Saving your friend huh? God I hate heroes,” the man sneers, “now where’s spiderman?!”

“Put me down!” you scream, flailing aimlessly.

“Tell me or I’ll peel the flesh of your body,” he hisses, bringing two more tentacles closer to your face. You scream louder and squeeze your eyes shut at the sight of the knives.

“Your choice. Spiderman you better come out! Before your little classmate becomes fresh meat,” he grins maniacally.

“Hey loser! I’m over here!” Someone shouts from behind him, dressed in red and blue. Spiderman swings around him, wrapping the legs with webs and tightening it, causing Dr. Otto’s machine to lose balance. You both fall and you brace for impact, but it never comes and you’re caught by Spiderman as he swings you both to the other side of the campus.

“Hey, you okay?” He asks, as he sets you down and you look at him in shock.

“You-You’re, s-spiderman-“

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’m just your friendly neighborhood spiderman,” he says, before looking behind him, “I gotta go, but please be safe! Don't want pretty girls like you in danger!”

Before you can say another word, he swings away to fight the villain.

You’re in love with him.

No not Mark, I mean, yes you love Mark, but now you’re in love with Spiderman too. Currently in your dorm watching the news and seeing your newfound crush beat that mechanical octopus’ ass. After he rescued you, he broke off most of his arms, before finally tying him up and sending him off to the police. Swooning as he is freeze framed on the tv, you grin like a little schoolgirl. You’ve never had a thing for superheroes, maybe Thor if any, but to have one actually save you? You could get married to him right then and there.

Loud knocking is heard at your door and you turn off the tv, walking towards it. You’re greeted with a sweaty looking Mark, staring at you in concern, “Are you okay? I heard that monster thing got you?!”

“I’m fine, I got saved,” you smile at the memory of your new found love.

“By who?” Mark raises his eyebrows slightly.

“Spiderman,” you giggle lightly, but it causes you to wince in pain.

“Are you okay?! Let’s sit down,” he helps you move to your bed, “What happened?”

“That stupid octopussy tried to hurt Jisoo so I pushed her away and he snatched me instead,” you hold your stomach, too busy swooning over Spiderman to realize you were in actual pain.

“You saved Jisoo..? Wow,” you look at him confused as he stares at you in awe before he stands up, grabbing an ice pack from the mini-fridge you have, “I mean, is she okay?”

“Yeah, went home today though, needed to be with her family.”

“Understandable,” he nods, giving you the ice pack along with some water, “so Spiderman huh?” he says coolly, drinking some water himself.

“Yeah.. he’s pretty cool,” you say dreamily, “I.. I think I’m in love with him.”

Mark chokes on his water and starts coughing uncontrollably. “Mark oh my god, breathe,” you pat his back and he shakes his head, trying gain his breath.

“I’m okay, I’m just-“ he says in a strained voice, before finally composing himself, “you love him?”

“Well he saved my life, there’s just something really, sexy about that,” you say, grinning.

Mark stares at you with wide eyes and mouth dropped which makes you laugh and you wince again. “Careful,” he warns, trying to keep composure, “y-you really love him?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m probably never going to see him ever again,” you sigh, swinging your feet on your bed, “but if he ever asked me to have one night, just one hot, sweaty, and wet night together.. I’d let him do me all night.”

Mark stands up abruptly, placing his cup on your nightstand before walking to the door, “Alright! Well I gotta go do, uh, homework, I’m glad you’re okay-“ he looks at the floor with a blush on his cheeks and opens the door—face smacking against the doorframe, before finally walking out, “sorry b-bye!”

The university shuts down classes for a month to give students time to alleviate any trauma, but mainly to fix the campus back up. And in the last two weeks, you’ve been thinking about your spider boo, as Jisoo calls him, who doesn’t knock on your window at night like you had hoped. Instead you spend your nights with Mark in your dorm, watching 80’s movies back to back on your laptop. Tonight is just the same as the rest.

“God I wish I went to high school in the 80s,” you sigh, munching on some popcorn.

“Why?” Mark laughs, “high school would’ve sucked.”

“Well it did suck for some of us, ‘Mr. Everyone likes me,’” you scrunch your nose at him, “it wasn’t that fun for me.”

“Not everyone liked me, you didn’t like me,” he chuckles, throwing a piece of popcorn at you.

“Of course I did, I had such a huge crush on you-“ the words fall out of your mouth before you can realize and once it’s out, Mark isn’t laughing anymore.

“What?” He whispers.

“N-Nothing,” you attempt to save your dignity and the friendship you’ve built with him.

“You liked me?” He sits up, staring directly at you now. Your eyes stay on the screen, wishing your bed could swallow you whole at that very moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mark asks, clearly frustrated.

“Because it didn’t matter,” you mutter and he scoffs, standing up at your words.

“Of course it matters! Y/n, why didn’t you tell me!” He says loudly, and you look at him in shock.

“No it didn’t, you’re Mark Lee, you were every girl’s teenage dream! Everyone liked you because you were so cool and smart! You didn’t even know I existed,” You finally let out, “besides you were always dating someone — how was I supposed to tell you?”

“By talking to me? God y/n, you act like I was going to be disgusted by you or something!” He says loudly, trying not to yell.

“Because I thought you were! Mark don’t you get it? You’re this great, handsome guy that is way out of my league, you’re too good for me, always have been, always will! I’m a nobody, okay? You’re supposed to be with someone like Gwen.. not me,” you yell, and surprisingly Mark’s eyes soften. You always expected him to yell and tell you to never talk to him ever, that he is actually disgusted by you and never wants to see you again.. but he doesn’t.

“Y/N,” he sighs before taking a deep breath, “I love you, okay?”

“Mark don’t lie-“

“I’m being serious! You think I never noticed you in high school? Y/n, you were all I could think about then, I wanted to talk to you so badly and ask you out but whenever I had the chance, you’d scatter like I was a disease! I figured you didn’t like me so I dated other people to get over you,” he confesses, pulling at his hair in frustration, “then I saw you here again and I realized that I can’t get over you, because I love you.”

“You’re lying.. you don’t mean it, you’re just being nice,” you stammer, shaking your head as tears flood your eyes, “how can you love me? you’re Mark Lee-“

“You keep saying that, but this Mark Lee loves you.. so just let me love you,” he says, grabbing your cheek to wipe away your flowing tears.

“Why? Why do you love me? I’m not like the girls you’ve dated,” you whisper, and he gives you a smile.

“I only dated them to get over you,” he pulls you to the edge of the bed to keep you close, “I dated them, but I only love you.”

“Mark?” “Yeah?”

“Please kiss me,” you finally say, staring at his bright eyes up close for the first time ever.

He smiles and leans down, capturing your lips in a longing kiss. The kiss is everything you hoped it would be and more. His lips are as soft as his hands that hold your hips perfectly, his mouth moves smoothly against your own and he’s just as amazing as you always knew he’d be.

You make the bold move of moving backwards on your bed so he can climb over you in the midst of the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lays snug on top of you.

His mouth moves skillfully on your own and you run your hands through his hair in delight. Unconsciously, you wrap your legs around his waist, bringing his groin close to your heat. The kiss turns needier and his hands run from your hip to your thigh, gripping it. Licking his bottom lip with your tongue, he opens his mouth and welcomes it with his. Your mouths move faster, as you both are clearly turned on and the atmosphere is getting hotter.

Lifting your hips up, you grind against his hard-on, eliciting a shocked moan from Mark. You repeat the motion before he catches on, moving his hips into yours as well. His hard-on flicking deliciously against your centre. Breaking away from his mouth, you moan softly when he hits your clit exactly. He keeps doing it, kissing down your neck.

You’re so close but you know it isn’t enough to get you there, so you push him off softly onto the bed. “I’m sorry, did I do something?-“

“Shh, Mark, I just wanna suck you off,” you whisper, unbuckling his belt. His eyes blink wide repeatedly, and he nods, helping you pull down his pants. His dick is straining painfully against his dark briefs and you palm him softly, before pulling them down his legs.

“And you have a pretty dick too? Mark Lee you’re not fair,” you hum, leaning down to lick his tip. He’s long, not necessarily thick but big enough to have your panties soak further at the sight. A nice red tip and shaved, not a single hair on his pelvis.

Swirling your tongue around his tip, you look up at his reaction as your mouth envelopes around his length. You move softly at first, enjoying every moan that comes from his lips. “F-Fuck, I can’t believe this is actually happening,” he stutters, throwing his head back.

You giggle and start to bob your head faster, gaining a rhythm that has him twitching underneath you. “Oh my god, I’m so fucking close already,” he groans, his hands gripping your hair in his fingers, “oh god, I’m gonna cum if you keep-“

This only makes you go harder, dropping your mouth as far as you can go and swallowing at his tip. “Holy shit, fuck fuck fuck, I can’t hold it-I’m gonna cum-“ you feel it hit the back of your throat, streams of warmth flooding your mouth. Mark stutters, hips twitching before he calms down, releasing his grip in your hair.

You wipe at your mouth with a small smile and he looks at you in disbelief, “you literally made me come in two minutes.”

“Think you can do the same for me?” You say coyly and he grins, pushing you on the bed this time. He pulls your soft cotton shorts down your legs to show off your bare womanhood, and he groans at the sight. “So this whole time you’ve been wearing no panties beside me?”

He doesn’t wait for you to say something before he leans down and licks a stripe up for center, making your shutter. Holding your legs apart, he eats you out softly, carefully and taking his time. You softly mewl at the feeling, grabbing his hair. “I need your fingers, please,” you beg, feeling your high so close.

He licks one of his long fingers before rubbing it on your clit, dragging it down and pushing it in slowly. He mouths at you again while simultaneously fingering you, making your legs tremble in pleasure.

“Oh Mark,” you moan, “yes right there.”

“You’re so hot like this,” he mumbles into your clit, “I’ve wanted you here, like this, for such a long time.”

He wastes no time moving his finger quicker, mouthing at your pussy like a starved man and your toes curl, as you near your high.

“I’m gonna-“ you gasp, holding on to his hair when he pushes another finger in, fucking you hard with them. “Shit, shit, fuck-“ Your back arches off your bed and your legs grip around his head as you come, body finally relaxing after a few moments.

When you finally look at Mark, he’s staring at you in awe, mouth glistening with your arousal and chest huffing to catch his breath. It’s a beautiful sight to see and you give anything to see him just like this forever. Pulling him in for a kiss, you taste yourself on his tongue but you don’t mind it, enjoying his lips on yours instead.

He pulls away after a few moments and sighs happily, “I can die a happy man now,” he grins, pulling you beside him to cuddle and you giggle, but that only lasts a moment before you begin to wonder what will happen now. Does this mean you’re a couple? Was this just a bit of fun for him?

“Hey,” he tilts your chin up, “what’s with the frown pretty girl?”

“I’m just thinking.. what does this mean?” You find the courage to say, “are we a thing now?”

“Y/n.. you've always been my girl, just took awhile for you to finally realize,” he kisses your forehead. The action brings warmth to your heart and you lay your head on his chest, finally closing your eyes and letting them rest for the night.

The next morning, the sunlight from outside shines through your room and hits you directly in the face, waking you up after a few moments. You move away and blink repeatedly, adjusting your eyes to the light before looking beside you, with an empty spot. Sitting up, you look around the room and there is no trace of Mark anywhere, not a note not his clothes, absolutely nothing.

Quickly checking your phone, you’re only met with social media notifications and no messages or calls from Mark as usual. It takes a moment for you to realize what this means before it finally settles in, and tears flood your eyes in anger.

“Fuck you Mark Lee!” You yell out, throwing your phone across the room, “stupid, stupid, stupid!”

You collapse back into bed and cry your heart out. Of course he didn’t mean what he said, of course he doesn’t want you. What did you expect? He’s Mark Lee! Guys like him don’t fall for girls like you. You were so stupid to believe him, that he could actually love someone like you. All he wanted was to get his dick wet and that’s it.

You were so stupid.

The days following you’re either in your room crying all night or attending your morning classes. He hasn’t contacted you yet, not even a stupid ‘sorry’ text to make himself feel better. As if he even feels bad.

At least Jisoo is finally back, and when she finds that Mark has broken your heart, she is on a rampage to kill him. “How could he do this to you?! That little shit!” Were her exact words before she consoled you and cancelled her dick appointment that night to have a girl’s night with you.

You try your best to avoid Mark on campus, always surveilling the area before walking somewhere because you can’t deal with seeing him just yet. Though it seems like he’s doing the same, because you never catch him walking around and it’s as if he’s gone off the face of the earth. Good, as he should.

Sadly enough, classes are back in session and now you have chapters to catch up on that you’ve missed since the incident. So you’re in the library once again, trying to get ready for finals like everyone else in the room. Normally you’d study with Mark and he’d give you tips or make studying fun with his lame jokes.

“Did you hear what happened to Spiderman?” Another student beside you whispers to his friend.

“Yeah I heard, my mom says the neighborhood has gotten dangerous since he disappeared,” the other student tells them, “too bad, wonder what happened?”

“I heard the Avengers got sent on a mission and some got stuck behind, there's a video on YouTube,” the guy tsks, “hope he’s not dead.”

The other person mumbles in agreement and you stop listening to their conversation at that point. Poor Spiderman, the only real good man in New York, now gone. Just your luck huh? Both of your love life’s basically non existing now. Placing your headphones back in, you play some music to focus back on your work.

That night, you’re waiting for Jisoo to get back from the convenience store with your snacks to watch some cheesy chick flick that she has been begging you to watch. The movie is all set up on your computer and you’re in your comfy pjs with fuzzy socks to keep your feet warm. Scrolling through your phone while you wait, there is a quick knock on your door, signaling that Jisoo’s back. “Did you get the-“ you open the door and stop mid sentence when you’re greeted by Mark Lee instead of your roommate. He looks tired, eyes rimmed with dark circles and the same clothes he was wearing the night he used you. His hair is shaggier like he hasn’t cut it and there’s a shadow on his upper lip.

“What are you doing here?” You hiss and he looks hurt, but not surprised.

“Y/n, please listen to me, I know you’re mad but I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just that-“

“Oh really? You didn’t mean to hurt me? Didn’t mean to get yourself off and then pretend like it never happened?”

“No that’s not what it was-“ “Then what? You were just feeling horny and thought you could use me? That you could come here weeks later and I’d forgive you?”

“Y/n, please, let me explain. I love you, I really do-“

You cut him off once again, “Don’t. Don’t you ever say that to me again. You’re a piece of shit Mark, I really cared about you and I thought you were nice. But now I finally realize who you are, you’re too cool for me, you could never like me the same way. I get who you are now, because you’re Mark Lee,” you say all in one breath, before slamming the door on his fake ‘broken’ looking face.

As soon as the door shuts, you fall to ground and let out the hurt tears immediately. You can still hear him outside your door, begging you to open up and let him explain but you don’t care if he hears you cry, because you don’t give a shit anymore. For years you’ve loved the kid and he’s nothing like you imagined. You should’ve just listened to yourself from the beginning and just stayed away. Oh, how you wish you had listened, because now your high school crush has become your college heartbreak.

It takes him a while to leave and for you to collect yourself and Jisoo finally walks in with the bag of goodies in her hand, that she drops, once she sees you as a mopping mess on the floor. You cry all night again and the cringey movie is forgotten all about.

The next day, you don’t leave your room at all, missing all of your morning classes because you're too depressed to get out of bed. Your nose is stuffy and eyes are puffy so you figured you’d save the world from looking at you, a sad mess. You try to distract yourself with some tv, but even that reminds of you Mark. So you opt for the news, and thankfully it’s reported that the remaining lost Avengers are back and safe. It’s the only thing that brings a smile on your face that day, because at least one of your lost loves hasn’t disappointed you.

It doesn’t keep you happy for long though, as the hours go by and you’re still all alone in bed. You attempt to do some homework on your laptop that night and copy notes of today’s class from one of your classmates via screenshot.

You’re in the middle of a paragraph when you hear light tapping on your window and freeze. The tapping continues and you’re confused, because you’re on the top floor. So who the hell is out there?

Sitting up, you pull the curtain back to see a familiar red and blue mask looking at you. Gasping, you open the window for him. “Can I come in?” Spiderman asks, holding himself on a web with ease. You nod slowly and scoot aside to give him room. He climbs in and looks around your dorm.

“Cute room,” he says and turns back to you but you’re still gaping at him.

“How do you- How did you find me?” you stutter and he chuckles lightly.

“I have my ways, just came by to check on the cute girl I rescued a while ago,” he flirts, causing you to blush. Holy shit! Spiderman is in your room! Flirting with you!

“Are you okay? I heard you were trapped?” You ask him, trying to keep your cool.

“Yeah but I'm okay, got out of there alive so,” he laughs awkwardly, and suddenly you get a sense of familiarity from him, “whatcha doing?”

“Notes, missed class today,” you say, and he tsks.

“How come?” He turns his mask covered head to the side in question.

“Didn’t feel well, stress, some problems I’m having,” you say sadly, but give him a fake smile to cover it, “no biggie.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Spiderman, are you telling me you snuck into my room at 12am to talk about my life problems?” You joke, giving him a real smile this time.

“Hey, problems are problems, even if they're not life or death, I’m still here for everyone.”

“It’s nothing, I’m just stupid sometimes,” you shake your head, “I thought this boy liked me but guess I wasn’t good enough. I should’ve known, my fault.”

“How do you know he doesn’t like you? Did he say he didn’t?”

“Well no but he hurt me, he ignored me for a long time and pretended like I didn’t exist,” you retort and he nods.

“Did you let him explain why? Maybe he had a good reason.” He defends, and you give him a slight frown.

“Who’s side are you on?” You tilt your head, “I hope you’re on mine, I mean he broke my heart. I cried for days over him, he lied to me and told me that he loves me but ignores me? What’s there to explain?”

Spiderman looks down at his lap for a moment before standing up and pacing around the room.

“Y/n,” he says, finally turning to you, “he is sorry, he wants to tell you what happened, but if you would just let him explain. He didn’t want to leave you that night, he wasn’t going to until there was an emergency.”

“Huh? How do you know he left?” You ask him, puzzled, “did Mark put you up to this?”

“No gosh, Y/n,” he groans before shaking his head, “I am Mark.”

“What? That doesn’t make sense? How can you be Mark? You’re Spiderman!”

He doesn’t answer but takes a deep breath, before lifting his mask and revealing his identity. Truth be told, Mark is behind it with a nervous look on his face and your eyes widen.

“Mark! Oh my god,” you blink repeatedly, “you’re actually him?”

“I am, I was going to tell you after that night but then,” he winces at the memory, “I had to leave, I was supposed to come back before you even woke up but some of us were stranded in another galaxy.”

“So you didn’t leave on purpose? You were gonna come back?”

He nods, “I’m really sorry y/n, if I had known I’d be gone for so long I would’ve told you.”

The room is quiet for a few moments and Mark is standing there unsure if you believe him and if you’re going to kick him out again.

“Mark,” you whisper, instantly running towards him to hug him. He sighs in relief, holding you tightly. His body starts to shake like he’s scared that if he lets you go, you’ll leave.

“I’m sorry Mark,” you mumble into his suit with wet tears, “I should’ve let you explain.”

“It’s okay,” he rubs your back, “we’re okay now, I’m never leaving you again.”

You hold each other for a long time, swaying a bit as you wipe your tears. He lifts your chin and kisses you softly on the mouth, then your nose and cheeks.

“So you saved me that day?” You ask and he nods shyly. “So you were my hero? That’s pretty hot.”

“It was nothing really,” he blushes, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Remember what I told you that night?”

“What?” He asks as you stare at him coyly before realizing what you meant, “oh, oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you kiss his cheek, then his lips softly, before going down his strong jaw and neck. Suckling on the supple skin, you give him a love bite, proudly claiming him as yours. He moans at the feeling, before bringing your mouth to his again. Your arms wrap around his neck and his roam down your body until they reach your legs. He lifts them, wrapping them around his waist with ease like you weigh as much as a feather and takes you towards your bed.

You lay back and his kisses go down your neck. His hands cup one of your breasts through your shirt, and he feels the peaks as you’re not wearing a bra.

Mark breaks away from your mouth for a moment to lift your shirt over your head, before sucking on one of your nipples. He holds the other in his hand, moving in circular motions. You hum in delight and he smiles, kissing down your tummy. You know what his next move is but you stop his hands from reaching your waistband. “Wait Mark,” you mumble, bringing him back up to meet your lips, “I can’t wait anymore, I really want you inside of me.”

“O-Oh, yeah, sure,” his eyes widened and Mark stands up, tapping on his chest to release his suit, falling to his knees. He trips on the material as he tries to get out of it, causing a laugh to come from you. “Sorry, sorry!”

Finally when he’s all composed, he towers over you, “hi,” he says shyly and you giggle.

“God I love you,” you smile and he says it back, kissing you once more.

Your bottoms come off along with his and he hisses when your wet lips come in contact with the tip of dick. “Do you have, uh, a condom?”

You shake your head, “no but I’m clean, and on birth control.”

“Oh thank god,” he whispers and slides his tip between your lower lips, collecting your arousal for lubrication. Finally, he pushes in and pulls out halfway to get you used to his size. “Please Mark,” you raise your hips and his dick pushes all the way in.

“Oh my, fuck,” Mark groans, dropping his head onto your shoulder as he bottoms out, “you’re so tight.” He starts a pace, moving faster with every thrust until he has you a mess underneath him.

“Yes just like that,” you moan, watching where your bodies meet. You feel so full, better than you ever have before and he fits inside of you perfectly, hitting all the spots that have you seeing stars.

His movements never falter and you’d like to thank his superhero strength for it. “I’m gonna come,” you whimper, holding onto his forearms.

And as if he couldn’t move any faster, he does and it makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Come for me baby,” he tells you, his voice deeper than usual. It’s all it takes for you to get to your high, scratching down his back as your body shakes.

He slows his thrusts so you can catch your breath. You take whatever strength you have left to push Mark on to the bed, straddling his waist. Putting him back in, you move your hips up and down slowly, watching his reaction. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth, sweat cascading down his body and his soft hair is sticking in different places. He looks so sexy and it only encourages you further to ride him harder.

“You have no idea how long–oh fuck,” he groans when you swivel your hips, “how long I’ve dreamt of you riding me like this.”

You continue to move up and down, back and forth until he’s gripping your hips harshly, so sure enough there will be marks in the morning. Mark is a complete mess at your touch, muttering praises and groans into the air. You’re so close again already but you want to make him feel good, so you tighten yourself around him.

“F-Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he gasps, throwing his head back, “keep riding me just like that.” You lift your hips higher and move harder on his cock until he’s crying out your name with a curse.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, filling you with streams of his warm arousal.

Mark shutters under you until he’s completely soft and you lift off of him. His come runs down your thigh and he quickly grabs a tissue from your nightstand to clean you up. Wiping himself down, he tosses it in your trash bin before giving you a shy smile. You both climb into your bed and under the sheets to enjoy a bit of cuddling and pillow talk.

Hours go by before you know it, and you snuggle into his neck tiredly. “Mm, ‘missed you,” Mark mumbles, keeping you close to him.

“I missed you too,” you smile, “missed spiderman too.”

“Yeah? You still in love with him?” he looks at you and jokes.

“Mm, not really,” you shake your head and Mark furrows his brows, “I’m in love with you, the nerdy and goofy version of you.”

“Doesn’t sound very cool,” he scrunches his nose.

“Yeah, well, who do you prefer? Spiderman, the one who has to fight crime all day? Or Mark Lee, the one I get to ride everyday now?” You kiss his neck and he shivers at your words.

“Mark Lee sounds pretty cool now I think about it,” he mumbles.

“Really now? Well then you better come here, bugboy,” you whisper, bringing him in for another kiss.

His phone buzzes loudly, breaking the kiss and he reaches over. Reading the text, Mark gives you a look of worry but you shake your head.

“Go get ‘em Spiderman,” you smile proudly and he kisses you sweetly. Getting his suit back on, he slips his mask over his face, “I’ll be back this time, I promise!”

“Good, I love you Mark.”

“I love you too,” he tells you lovingly, before opening your window and jumping out smoothly.

Who would’ve thought your high school crush would be your college boyfriend? And a hot fricking superhero!

a/n: thank u god for mark lee and spiderman

#spiderman #mark lee #mark lee!spiderman #nct mark #nct smut #nct mark lee #nct 127 #nct spiderman #nct #nct angst #mark lee angst #mark lee smut #mark lee nct #mark smut #mark angst #mark lee spiderman #mark lee au #mark lee fluff

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

The Cassell Cynic Part 2

A continuation of @hectabdr @hectab‘s lovely characters.

When Nathan lay back on the bench, Hana’s face filled with furious determination.

Nathan protested loudly as she stomped his feet, seized his arm in a mighty heave and lifted him across the back of her shoulders. Her strong arm was wrapped around his leg and other her hand gripped his wrist. He tried to pull away but she held him tightly secured. “What are you doing?! Let me down!”

“I’m not going to let you make me fail this assignment!” She grunted roughly and stomped off toward the medieval looking administrators building.

Nathan used his free arm to pull his ear buds out. “Are you kidnapping me? Go die by yourself!”

“You think you’re going to die?”

“Of course I’m going to die if I go on assignment with you!” He struggled futilely against her iron-like grip. “Let go! You’re ruining my day!”

“When the dragons come back, they’ll do more than ruin your day. Or do you not know that because you don’t care to study?”

“I know that and that’s why I don’t bother! It’s obvious that someone else is going to do it, why should I care about it?”

“Because we …” She puffed, staggering with her struggling captive. “You're heavier than you look.... We all have a role to play. No one is going to slay the dragons alone! When the chips are down everyone needs to think about what they can do to make sure the dragons don’t win!”

“If I face a dragon, I’ll bow down and say ‘I welcome my new scaly overlords!’” He hollered loud enough for anyone in the courtyard to hear.

She stopped. Her face turned to him in horror. “You don’t mean that. Surely.”

His face was full of indignation. “And even if I don’t, so what? I just hope they don’t eat me and I live another day because I’m not slaying any god-damn dragon and chances are, neither are you! Now put me down!”

“Don’t put me in the same league as you, you coward…”

“I’m a coward? You’re a coward!” He turned to look at her over her shoulder. “You’re so scared of getting something less than an A+ that you’re kidnapping me! That’s what this is about. Don’t give me that Dragon War spiel. You’re more scared of your report card than a dragon. Am I right or am I right? Exactly. If this assignment was about dragonslaying, I wouldn’t be on it, being C ranked… No one’s going to put the world in my hands! Put me down!”

She finally lowered him from her shoulders and he brushed himself off and smoothed down his hair. He turned to look up at her. “Thank you!”

She gave him a stern look, lips pursed. “You’re really serious… about not doing anything.”

“Yeah! I am serious! Thank you for finally acknowledging that!” He stepped around her to return to his bench.

“So you weren’t put up here to sabotage me?” She asked.

“I am not doing this to sabotage you. No. But someone might be. You do what you need to do if your grades are that important to you, but leave me out of it. I don’t need grades to stay here.” Nathan turned fully around and walked backwards towards the bench. “Contrary to your belief, your assignment is not the end of the world and, if it was really that important, they will find someone else to do it!”

He sat back on the bench, groaning in dismay as he picked up his ruined blunt where he’d dropped it. “If I have to be on your assignment for you to pass then you might as well stay here on the bench! Because I’m not going. Period. You’ll have to deal with the smudge on your record. Though… knowing you, you’ll suplex them until they give you a make up assignment to erase the quote-unquote bad grade, so your parents don’t call you and cuss you out. If you do kidnap me, though, I’ll definitely make sure you fail, you psycho!” He rotated his shoulder. “That hurt, you know.”

Hana stayed where she was and helplessly watched him as he sat back down at the bench. “You’re really not coming. You’re not going to help me at all?”

Nathan didn’t respond. He rolled another blunt and lit it in silence. He could tell she wasn’t giving up, she was just changing strategy. She was drunk on the whole Dragonslaying mission Kool-Aid. He could feel his buzz actively dying as she approached him and sat back down. He passed it to her and she refused. But he insisted. “Take it, you need it more than I do.”

“I don’t smoke.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He inhaled slowly. The skunky smell of the marijuana filled the air. “You shouldn’t care so much.”

“I do care but it's because this is what comes natural to me. I’m strong and talented and I can do the things they need me to do. My talents will be wasted elsewhere. No one’s putting pressure on me. This is who I am and what I do best. So why not excel at it?”

He coughed on a rough pull. He was genuinely shocked. “No? You don’t have some mommy and daddy at home who will be disappointed if you get a B?” He asked, scoffing at her. “You don’t care at all if you ‘fail your ancestors’ or something?”

“No.” She said firmly. “I don’t. I didn’t come from a prestigious family or a famous bloodline. I don’t even know who my father is. Unlike you.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “I’m self motivated and good at what I do. A few of the professors were thinking of putting me on a track to become faculty. They said I have to learn how to be an earnest guide. They wanted me to take you on an assignment and walk you through it.”

“Really? ...damn.” Nathan shut his mouth for once, scratching his head. “I’d pegged you as one of those trust fund babies.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “Believe me, I’m not. Like I said, I don’t care for them. They’re just coasting on their parent’s allowance and pretending to be better than everyone else. Kinda like you. At least you’re a trust fund baby who has their head in reality.” She grinned but there was no humor in it.

Nathan couldn’t argue that. “So uh… what’s this assignment?”

“I just have to accompany some cargo to the airport. But it’s sensitive cargo. So we just need to guard it.”

“Ah ha!” He tilted his head back. “So solve one problem with another. Very clever. You know what I think? I think my lack of urgency pisses them off so bad that they would do anything to get me to care even a little bit. And if they can’t get me to do anything, then they can get me off campus so they don’t have to look at me. They don’t need me here. It’s all head games. So I’ll play their head game.”

“What do you mean?” She tilted her head.

He pointed to the blunt in his hand. “What I mean is, this weed is going to give me the munchies. So, I’ll go ahead and put in a big order from the canteen. What do you like?” He pulled his cellphone from his pocket.

“I guess. Italian… pasta. I like Greek Food?” She said.

“Pasta and Gyros… sounds good to me.” He typed to put in the order.

“Are you ordering food for me?” She peered at his phone.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Nathan turned to her. “Wow… you really don’t have any friends.”

“You don’t either!” She snarled.

“I did before I came here. And I will when I leave here. You on the other hand… good luck on your ‘Hero’s Journey’. Heh.” He chuckled.

“Why don’t you just leave if you hate it here so much.” She stretched her legs in front of her and looked at the sky.

Nathan continued his lengthy order. “I don’t hate it here. I can live here, eat good food, and do nothing. Duh. It’s like the best vacation ever. It just sucks that by the end I won’t get to remember any of it. It’s like an alternate dimension. I just want them to give me good memories. Like I did something awesome. That’s all.” He waved his book of false memory ideas.

“You’re going to let them erase your memory?” Hana lowered her voice, partly shocked, partly amazed.

“Yep. Here I’m no better than a regular human. So I might as well live like one. Order will be ready in 45 minutes.” He put his phone in his pocket.

“Why not split the difference? Do just enough to participate and stick around. That’s what Fingel does.” She wondered.

“Oh ho... Not just Fingel. Isn’t that what everyone else does? I look at everyone around me and… you’re the first person I’ve met here who actually believes all this is for saving the world. That’s cool. You want to be here for that. But that’s why the other people get on your nerves. You can tell they’re faking it, and you’re not about the BS.”

Hana fell into a thoughtful silence.

“Which is why they sent you to talk to me probably.” He lowered his blunt. “It’s not that I don’t care that dragons are big and scary, it’s just I know I can’t do anything, just like 90% of the people here… so…” He shrugged. “There’s going to be maybe… what … 10 or 12 people actually fighting dragons? The rest? They’re just in it for the social points. And I’m not interested in social points.”

“What are you interested in?” She asked.

“Enjoying life while I have it.” He sat back and blew out a long plume of smoke.

Hana sat with him and stared out into the empty courtyards. On the peak of a gabled roof, a mockingbird was singing its heart out and doing acrobatic leaps in the air as it did so. Hana pursed her lips and tapped her feet. “If you could… please do this one assignment for me. I won’t ask again. I’m backed into a corner here and I don’t really have a choice at the moment.”

Nathan sighed loudly. “You could always do nothing, Hana. Just say, ‘He’s not coming, figure something out.’ I don’t want to get in your way, but I’m not going to let them play the pity card either. We’re all adults here. Don’t ask me to play their game. And it is a game.” He looked at her with wide eyes, waving his blunt. “If this assignment is really important, they’ll find someone else. The assignment isn’t the real issue here. This has nothing to do with your grade. I guarantee it has everything to do with their ego. They’re just like my parents. They’re just like my brother. Trying to make me care about their shit and I don’t. And that pisses them off.”

“You’re… pretty defensive right now.” She laughed.

He laughed in disbelief. He was getting pretty riled up about all this. “I want them off my back! I don’t understand why they need the C-ranker to be on board with their war games.”

Hana smiled disarmingly. “I for one… appreciate your honesty. You’re not so bad. I can’t be the only one who feels that you’re not so bad either. I think I’m here because they want to keep you around.”

Nathan raised his eyebrows. “Tch… Yeah good luck to them.”

Hana pushed off the bench. “Alright. I’ll ask them to pair me with someone else or… do something else about it. Nice talkin’ to you.”

“Hey, don’t forget. Food’s gonna be here in 40 minutes.” He shouted after her.

“Alrighty!”

#Dragon Raja

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 19) (With visuals included 😉)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

UPDATES FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY NOW IN MY TIME (GMT +8) (Posted earlier today, thank you very much for my thirst! Heehee!)

CHAPTER 18

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Evil is evil. People and abomination may be the reason why the world can't be a better place especially in the continent.

Warnings: Blood. The 'Kikker' mentioned here ain't a real monster in the witcher. I just made it up. A bloody, thrashed reader. A maddened, feral, tired witcher. Degrading names. People being assholes. With Geralt’s visuals included but I don’t know how this is a warning?

Words: 5.6k

A/N: A story cannot consist of only glitters and rainbows. Sometimes, it's better to add darkness in it and a ton shit of angst. Heh. I’m cackling with the Geralt GIF’s I’ve included. It’s like he’s so bored and done af while talking to anyone. 😭😂😂😂 GERALT, OH GERALT. I DESERVE A KISS GERALT FROM HOW DEDICATED I AM TO YOU! Please appreciate my effort, people! LMAO 😭😂💗 ENJOY AND HAVE A NICE WEEKEND!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! This is kinda a rough draft. I apologize for many errors.

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be.(Credits to those who made the GIF’s. Some don’t have their watermarks included. I don’t remember where I’ve saved the others from)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

It was at around nightfall when Geralt of Rivia has arrived at the foot of the castle's barbican, his swords lunched on his back with bags in his hand and a sour expression written on his picturesque face that screams he wasn't there for a peaceful negotiation.

He'd calmly walked along the aqueduct, his footsteps heavy and impatient as he dropped his bags on the ground, familiarizing over the enormous castle that stood before him and he couldn't help but sigh, atopic of the whole vibe that every castle has given the white wolf. He really didn't want to cross paths with the royals ever again after that show he had by helping Jaskier and he hoped that his help for you didn't include another child of surprise that can happen.

Group of cavaliers shielded the gates with their swords on their hands. Geralt kept silent with a stern purse of his lips and a tightened jaw, he heavily sighed another one and continued to be uncommunicative when one equestrian audibly nagged for what the butcher of Blaviken needed.

Geralt deliberately rolled his eyes as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, giving them a scowl in which they've didn't took it very nicely as they began to draw their swords.

The witcher has heard footfalls echoing from the castle, hasty and restive and it didn't take a second for Geralt to see the king's close friend and an advisor for the royal family emerge from the gates.

Eanraig came forth out of the port; one of Caed Myrkvid's druids and someone whom Geralt has been talking to since decades ago where he has visited Caed Dhu and having their first meeting in the black forest.

The scholar wore a brown long, surcoat as he step foot out of the gates, his white long beard and wild, unwashed gray wavy hair stopping on the tips of his shoulders. Thin lines of wrinkles crafted his face which has given him the look that he was nearly old. His grey colored eyes wholly jiggered to see the white wolf in the foot of their fortress and with an expression that simply tells him that he was pissed.

He always does look like it but the druid knew that Geralt was truly feeling that way and it wasn't just his normal face that you see everyday.

"Yield your swords this instance!"

Geralt gave him a nonchalant flicker of his eyes, opening his mouth to gruffly speak, "Eanraig." his face remained stoic, his timbre sounding utterly lackadaisical when he addressed the scholar.

Eanraig trudged his way to where he was. The soldiers immediately surrendering their weapons down as they firmly stood from side to side, watching the two acquaintances converse in a quiet and calm talk. The druid was cordial as he gave a smile, "Geralt of Rivia. They have been expecting you,"

"Hmm." the latter hummed out of nowhere, narrowing his golden amber eyes at the Elder Druid in acrimony, "---they've taken what's mine. I've been told to never step foot within the berm of eminent citadels,"

Sardonically speaking, Earnraig tilted his head to the side. The flicker in his eyes humorous and mocking, "Yet, here you are, witcher." he throatily chuckled and croaked, his voice sounding drier than usual due to being long in the tooth, "---I shall guess, you are here to save a lover?"

Geralt kept his mouth in a tight thin line, shifting his eyes away from the druid with his question unanswered by the witcher.

"What unlucky fate you have, Geralt. Your lovers always bring out the worst in you---because you don't appear to be in the greatest and friendliest condition,"

"When did I ever?" the white wolf hoarsely mumbled beneath his breath, sighing in the process of it all as he frowned, taking heed of the feeble man before him. His tone was derisive and saturnine for what caustic comment he curtly claimed, "---How are you keeping up with their scoundrel works of art?"

Eanraig smiled; though, Geralt read that it wasn't meant to say he was jovial over the regime and changes he has noticed when the world began to change. His smile was brittle and unconvincing, "I never did. Since Tybalt arrived and has been taken as the crown for our army of gallants, destitution has taken its place. Heedless for the Kaedwenians because of how the vampire is capturing women for safe keeping, greasing his own palms by selling them to anyone who will want them,"

The witcher expected that answer before even asking. He nodded back at the druid, completely austere and phlegmatic as he kept silent; not letting the scholar know what he was thinking. Eanraig lifted a hand to give Geralt a pat on his burly, armored shoulder.

"King Veduka and Queen Makeda will speak to you once we get there," pause. "---And I doubt they'll be happy to see a witcher who has rejected their favor after two years. Come,"

As that has been said, the gatekeepers unbolted the entryway; given the approval from the king's advisor as Geralt grabbed his belongings, stringing along with him as they walked the route towards where the gatehouse is. The earth toned portcullis at its full defense as he sees it from far north.

"I wouldn't be helping their beloved cursed prince when they haven't coerced me into complying, Eanraig."

The druid strolled objectively alongside Geralt, continuously discoursing in the subject about who made him adhere to the king's favors---taking one person for abduction and he was already showing himself to them with no begging included unlike staying thoroughly surreptitious in the deepest parts of Kaedwen's forest. Only one woman was needed for him to accept such.

"If only you would've seen how they saw this as an opportunity to benefit them. I know your woman doesn't belong to this world. They knew your weakness, Witcher."

Eanraig has heard him hum, lower than his usual habit of susurration and it sounded like a sound of disapproval, "The sorceress has plans for her. Tybalt has hunted down a woman who exactly looks and sounds like her. But, exactly the opposite from her characteristics. She was one of Kaedwenians sly thieves."

Savia. He suddenly remembered out of the blue as he kept tacit. She was the woman who looked exactly like you despite of having the contrary of her traits over yours. Geralt pondered over the thought, finding it difficult to decipher how there was another person like you in his universe, a doppleganger of some sort that was entirety a clone of your genetics. Maybe Savia was a doppler or his midget? No. You were teleported to their dimension with no magic nor strength to do so.

What was seriously happening in the continent?

Eanraig saw how Geralt was in deep thought for what was shared; never one to beat around the bush; he enunciated straight to the point, "The king has been convinced that she's her twin. Howbeit, I never believed it nor did Ingrith or Tybalt. It was the queen's manipulation because her double has taken one of her favorite Cobalt necklaces that was given by the king,"

"---and now, they are starving her to death. Even walloped with a stick on her back till she was bleeding and wounded,"

The sentence has given Geralt a whiplash. He ceased from walking alongside Eanraig, his stature turning rigid and immobile with his jaw clenching for what was heard. Did he heard him right?

You are being aggressed in the hands of another when he does not lay a single hand on you; being battered by humans who didn't know exactly who you are nor do they have proof that you are the person who has stolen items from the queen.

"What?"

Eanraig's fair share of talk explains why his chest felt suffocating and utterly uneasy. They were hurting you till the heart of the sorceress was content enough.

The druid continued his blabbers, heedful of Geralt's stiff stance and his sudden reclusive mood, "---Ingrith told the queen that she was somehow cursed with a fate just like you,"

It wasn't a second of waiting till Geralt hoarsely mumbled his feelings out in the open and only for the scholar to hear, "Fuck." he raved, the witcher's thick eyebrows in a tight twist. His forehead creasing with deep wrinkles for his blood to boil even faster. He turned his head to the side, his teeth tightly gritted together as he went livid.

"That doesn't sound quite nice," Eanraig shifted his attention towards the raging white wolf who was glaring at the tall castlewalls in front of them, shooting daggers after daggers with his fists tightly clenched on his sides. A predatory glaze in his glowing eyes that stood under the pale moonlight, the ferocity bouncing back as he tried to calm him down. He reached out a hand to palm Geralt's tense shoulder, giving him a pat.

"Now, now, now, Weccan. Do not let your anger control you."

"How can I?!" Geralt spat in his utmost feral tone; fierce and aggressive for thinking how you were drowning in your own blood right at this moment.

The witcher was growling beneath Eanraig's touch; his anger felt through his body as Geralt was breathing in deep slow breaths, trying to control how his mind instantly went straight into knowing who has given orders to hurt you. There was an ample amount of the fact that you could be cut off a limb over stealing something you surely have been accused of. The Druid stepped in front of him, clasping both his fingers on his shoulders to break whatever thoughts he was thinking as he stared straight into his wrath-filled eyes.

"I've already treated her wounds---But, I think it isn't enough for how she's raining on their blows. You should have just accepted the first time they've asked a favor before it even ended up this way,"

Geralt's upper lip twitched from how he was silently basking in his displeasure and rue; never wanting to open his mouth at the moment for fire might escape his mouth with how maddened he was feeling. The tight stones topping off his chest and making him more uneasy than he can ever get.

"Vesemir has taught you to never uphold the law," Eanraig added as a matter of fact, pursing his lip as he continued, the look in his eyes utterly amused for how Geralt's destiny was falling in the wrong places, but emotionally feeling as if it was right because you came along, "---but, you are here to save such love that will never overcome the law that people have been following,"

The Druid has heard him huff from the choices of his words, looking away to stare at the castlewalls, digging up holes that he had been gathering since the moment he arrived, "You are saving the love of your life,---" he paused, a smile forming on Eanraig's decrepit face; his deep wrinkles forming as his face contorted in sheer entertainment.

"---and the woman who shall make miracles come true,"

Geralt was immediately taken to the abandoned round tower; where Prince Althalos has been staying since he has been cursed---bullish that they could keep him there and away from people. The prince has not been damned as a beast just like Nivellen. The prince has been cursed as a Kikker. A harmless monster in their world that only kills his own kind as well. They were found in the caves, masking in their solidarity until the full moon comes out and their hunger will be very much triggered to find something to munch on.

When they could not find their own kind to devour, they somehow manage to eat others instead.

Geralt couldn't help but snicker to his own at that, maybe the prince was kind of harmful instead of harmless that Sorceress Ingrith might have described him, peppering her words with pleasant lines that the witcher was highly disappointed of because she sounded as if she was in favor for what was happening.

He walked along the doors in an unfettered march of his feet, humming in displeasure with a scowl twisting his features that turned into tiny smirk; noting the buffet of abundant food that was left unfinished due to reasons he didn't know about as it happened before he arrived.

The tight grimace written on his face was enough for the king to know that he has not seen you yet since the moment you've arrived. Ingrith has probably prohibited him to as she has lead him to the prince.

King Viduka sat on his chair; proud and virtuous in the middle of a long table where he was left alone. The witcher has never seen the king up until today and one thing's for sure as he noticed the pale, horrid color of his skin. Just as much as how his have been, tinted in the lightest color that can be considered as if the king has no blood to function properly like how a king should have been.

His eyes were almond shaped, but with a nebulous glow swimming in the hazel color---appearing to be like he was being cast in a deathless spell or such poison that had a long term effect.

But, Geralt mindlessly shook his worries away from the people who have given you pain. The queen has probably been giving King Viduka such concoctions that could make him submit to her on whatever she wanted---with the help of the sorceress of course.

"He needs help," he bluntly started before he was even asked to speak, raising both brows for wanting to tell the king that he also needed help for whatever Queen Makeda has been giving him. Howbeit, Geralt has shut his mouth tight and hardly tried to become forth with respect amongst the king.

The king audibly sipped on his wine, casting him a glance under the antique glass he has chugged on. His expressions incomprehensible for the white wolf because of how horrid and disheveled his beard and mustache is. Though, his response made Geralt know he was giving him a lour, "This is why you've been dragged here to serve your purpose,---" pause. "---The only thing that can get your mutations quite useful for our world besides butchering my people. I've heard you've slaughtered my men,"

Geralt's mouth formed a tight thin line from the king's bald comment, his jaw set to create a grouch that the king has expected from his kind---the lack of emotion thereof and also the bluntness that the witcher may cannot control no matter if the person in front of was highly or not.

"Because your beloved army leader has been forcing women held captive," the white wolf stated as a matter of fact, cocking his head to the side as if it was a cocky comment.

King Viduka scoffed from his sheer honesty; skipping the dillydally that most men have been giving him due to being royal, "---and what has saving people benefit to you, witcher? must I say, you have not receive coins from it, correct? or was it because of the little woman? you are killing off my kind to save yours,"

Between them both was an understanding of protection from Geralt. He stood before him with a will that he had back in the marketplace. The white haired witcher was standing inside his castle with a purpose that he surely deciphered from using you as a bait to comply.

You were too important for him that the king could feel that Geralt will be begging for more than just your safeguard.

"Your way of asking favors can be quite disappointing for a king,"

Out of the blue, he's heard metal slice through its own accord; both knights who stood beside King Viduka unraveled their weapons, pointing them at Geralt who stood with a nonchalant expression on his face, thoroughly not moved nor impressed by their reactions---perhaps, also in a shitty mood for ruining his week by kidnapping you in the comfort of his home.

"Sheathe your swords," the king commanded to the hostile cavaliers; not taking a second to drop their weapons as they were told.

Geralt continued to educate the king in his perspective and comprehension over his cursed son; remembering how his school has taught him countless of monsters he could never forget.

"Call your son 'the frog prince' or some hideous sort," his eyebrows jutted closer as he sternly explained, "---but, this work is not made by a monster for me to hunt,"

King Viduka couldn't help but lean away from the back of his throne, his eyes adamant that he was not serious over telling him that his son may not be assisted by the Witcher

"---He is cursed by a witch. I do not butcher people for the sake of someone else's life,"

The words that left Geralt's mouth felt like a rejection or an offense that King Viduka has never experienced from anyone else. He couldn't believe what he was hearing---he couldn't accept such abnegation over a mutant who was crude and utterly unaccepted by humanity. His highness has quickly stood from his seat, throwing his glass on the floor which has shattered but has not surprised Geralt nor have receive a jerk of his body from his sudden anger---the antagonism coming was a result of a witcher that they have tried contacting or following around for two years; begging help for the future of Kaedwen.

Yet, he came to the palace with his foot up his mouth. Straightaway, sounding like he was declining the proposal.

The king was entirely disappointed by how useless he was being.

"---you are good-for-nothing! A hypocrite who says he does not kill another to save someone else's!" King Viduka has spat completely enraged, "---Yet, you have saved your tiny whore by killing mine!"

The white wolf couldn't help but clench his fists on his sides, clenching his teeth behind his closed mouth; his golden peepers glaring before the dependable king who kisses whatever Queen Makeda has been walking upon---a king who does not care for the people as long as he saves his.

Irritation was written all over Geralt's face, hearing what King Viduka has described you for what purpose you have in his life. Being nothing but a woman who could cater to his lechery when you had not been at all.

His midget was more than that. Definitely not his whore that people has been accusing you of.

Geralt's selfishness for rejecting the king's offers right on his face was like asking to be beheaded. He does not want to be involved by such ever again when he has no idea who this witch may have been. If being frank over the king was like asking to be beheaded, then a search for a witch that does not want to be found was waiting for a monster to put him into demise.

"I do not regret what the queen has done for punishing. Your tiny harlot has taken something valuable from her and corporal punishment was the answer that we all see fit---seeing that she might have sold the necklace for the sake of you wanting more coins,"

He subtly shook his head from the king's indefinite accusation, verbally fighting for your safety and for the truth that may set you free, "She is not the thief you have been accusing her about."

Yet, the king was determined of his opinions---the queen's opinions over you; seeming to be brainwashed by both women who was a shadow of his reign. One greedy sorceress and the other was his cunning beloved that no matter what other people say, he shall not believe because only his trusted people were right.

Geralt heavily sighed, seeing King Viduka shooting daggers towards him. His eyes wild and disappointed, utterly vexed for what he has heard.

"The world may say that you own two swords. One for killing humans and the other for slaughtering beasts," he deadpanned, bane spitting out of his mouth as he sharply stared at Geralt who sighed for his resoluted perception.

"---but, I doubt you do not know the differences of each as of now,"

After minutes of his silence, Geralt may have not realized that from the moment he opened his mouth, his teeth was barred, fangs overlooked by the king because of his unspoken thoughts; by not being heard by a person who had his mind closed for whatever he has to say and so, the butcher of Blaviken breathed a few heavy sighs, promptly shutting his eyes closed before he spoke through gritted teeth.

"Let me see her. I need...to see her, your highness."

He was stunned to hear himself plead before a disagreeable human. A selfish entitled man who knew nothing how to raise a kingdom. The rebellious son of the previous king has been forced into this madness and manipulation from everyone that he does not see.

The latter waited for any oracular answer. They've shared stares and huffs of breath before Geralt shook his head, turning on his heel to leave immediately because he knew that his request for seeing you will never be given. Might search for you instead, he silently thought to himself with a tight scowl on his face.

"Bring her in,"

He stopped short from hearing the king's words. Ceasing himself in the midst of marching off, his back towards the king when it has not taken the horsemen a minute to drag you to where he was.

Dragging was the correct term for your feeble, shaky demurrals out of the door. Your voice echoing from a far distance and Geralt couldn't help but shot a glance over the locked wooden doors, his amber eyes turning wider as your voice became clearer when each second passed by, hinting your status that you were not feeling well by the breathless, hoarse begging you've managed to beseech.

The doors opened to release two vulnerable knights wearing their commoner clothing and a small, fragile woman who was mistreated from her limbs; dragging you by your battered arms. Patches of blue and mauve painted your skin as if they were trying to beat you to death, a law back in the historical era where it was used for criminals or sinners to speak the truth or punished for their faults.

Your other cheek was swollen, vermillion owning a cut as if somebody has slapped you---also dehydrated from starving you for a day and a half, receiving no liquid to drink or anything besides their endless wallops.

The witcher was beyond shocked to even comprehend what he was seeing, his breath stopping from the moment he has seen you enter the room; utterly downtrodden, helpless and wounded.

"S-Stop...I-I don't...I don't need any more beating. I told you, I don't have your necklace. This amulet I have is mine. I didn't steal anything. Please---please tell me Geralt's here," King Viduka has gestured towards the horsemen; bringing up a finger to tell that they should show the witcher what you looked like to be hit in endless battering and how they've treated you before he even came around.

The knights tightened their hold against a mahogany, wooden stick. Hard enough to fracture your bones if it was given more power; but, Geralt knew what they were ordered to do before they can even move and he was quick enough to march towards where they were; graving and in distraught for what he felt. His chest suffocating and tight---anguished to see and desperate to keep you close in his arms.

He rushed to where you were hunched down and bleeding to death, shielding you from their assaults as the witcher draw out his metal sword from his back, angling the newly sharpened blade on one of the knight's jugular; golden eyes burning with betrayal and desolation for what they have done, for what power do people with royal blood have to hurt his person this way. They've treated you like a rag doll or a monster for making you bleed and even plan to starve you to death.

Their actions has made Geralt's blood boil in extremity.

"Do not dare---," he breathed fire, fuming as he warned. His words said with a fiery emphasis, "---touch or lay your hands on her,"

The smaller knight whom Geralt has pointed his sword upon growled in the back of his throat, a signal which has made him aim the tip of his sword against the vulnerable part---unbending and purposive for what he wanted them to apprehend that he was not flippant for unsheathing his steel sword.

"---people who knew better of my kind are heedful that I will not bat an eye to slit down your throats with my weapon,"

Geralt has heard you call out for him in a sapless shake of your voice and the simple acknowledgement has taken his attention away from the royal guards as he slightly turned his head behind---seeing you lay on the cold hard ground that made his mouth twitch, teeth barred and gritted and he couldn't help but emit a rough huff of his breath; sounding like a growl of his frustrations for letting this happen to his family.

King Viduka spoke in command, hiding the smile beneath his unkempt beard.

"Lay down your sword, Witcher. I do not plan to create bloodshed over the mutant who will help my son,"

Geralt avoided looking into their eyes and set his focus on the battered woman behind him who was coughing out her pain. You've used all your strength to pull yourself from the floors, your vision blurry and unclear for the tears you've shed all night, finding it hard to register that your witcher was finally within your reach. You thought it was all in the sense of hallucination until he'd hastily whispered the endearment that he had for you---the nickname you've hated prior of meeting him the first time, yet ending up missing the word when he doesn't use it for you.

His appearance was making your heart cry and eventually, you did after realizing a bunch of sobs escaping your lips when he has hauled you up in his arms; crouching before you and pulling your beaten body to his, aware from the pained whimper that followed suit and he was suddenly aware of using such strength with you---immediately turning gentle from your response.

"Midget?"

"G...Geralt? you're here..." you hiccuped from the cries, feeling the sting from the salt of your tears. Lately discovering the numb, sore feeling on your left eye and Geralt has eyed it with such animosity because it was a swollen wound.

Your vision turned clear after a languid blink of your eyes, welcoming his warmth that you've missed after being hurt by people who surrounded you who'd done it by physically doing so. The information you have gathered from the four corners of the cell you were in repeatedly replaying inside your mind; not bothering to forget to tell it to him besides your other secret that you ought not to tell yet.

"Don't...Don't find the witch..I-I've heard from the person with me---he's an elf. He said that this witch can never be found---it may be just a trap or an endless hunt for you,"

The latter was stone-deaf from your wounded image; his golden eyes large as if he couldn't believe what he was witnessing. Geralt didn't acknowledged your message and continued to state his own instead.

"They've hurt you."

He uttered in disbelief, intently examining your face near his. Your fingers were shaky as you reached up to touch his face. But, Geralt has beat you to it and grabbed yours instead, subtly shaking his head to silently tell you not to move for the pain it can cost. His rough hand was warm and comforting, giving solace in the midst of how being cold you were treated by their world. The only thing that was warm is Geralt and his family.

They were the only thing benevolent compared to their outskirts.

"They don't believe me. I--I never stole the queen's necklace. I--I have never left your home,"

"I know you didn't." Geralt gruffly muttered with a cordial, soft tone that made you sob more than ever---how nice it felt to have someone who actually believed you was like hopping in the shower after a summery day; refreshing to be hearing another person to fight for your truth rather than being forced to tell lies.

"You'll never get to find the witch, Geralt. Y-You'll never get to lift the curse because...because---"

The stammers you've emitted, how crucial it was to feel you in pain---finding ache in his chest from the moment he'd seen you in that status; painted like a rainbow shown after a heavy rain but drafted to show the suffering you've experienced in the castles of Kaedwen. His glowing golden eyes turned a shade darker, filling with sudden torment and affliction as you laid in his arms.

You've slightly turned your head, nuzzling to be shielded by Geralt's armored, hirsute chest that made you sigh after hours of trying to sleep on stones, finding home just by staying close to the white wolf.

"Your highness," Geralt abruptly spoke, making you shut your eyes open to hear what he needed to say. Based on how he set his mouth in a tight, straight line. Your witcher was setting down his bargains and favors that he certainly does not do for people of royal.

"I will seek for your witch," he stated with determination, his back towards the king; not taking the risk to let him see the ire pooling in his eyes as he continued.

"---in exchange for your people not to touch mine and if your sorceress, precious vampire or horsemen lay a single hand on her again, I will never hesitate to kill the witch and let your son die with his curse forever,"

Perturbed by his sudden declaration; stubborn to even listen for what he was about to expect by searching apparitions of a witch out in the woods. You've desperately called out his name in endless croaks, hopelessly pulling at his armor yet Geralt was having rigid opinions especially having you wounded in his arms.

"Cease her punishment. I will not save yours if I know that you are punishing my..."

Golden eyes keenly landed on yours, thoroughly protecting you in his sinewy limbs before he seriously and firmly declared another that has made your breath hitch for what he has said.

"---my betrothed,"

King Viduka briskly nodded for his request; badly in need of his aid for his son to live. There was an understanding that he will still keep you within the castle unless Geralt brings him the witch and reverse the curse. He'd kept his eyes on the witcher's back, sitting back on his throne with a smile on his face.

"You have my word, Geralt of Rivia."

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luxekook · 4 years

Text

love bites | ksj

*written for the FWL luv library project*

⇥ pairing: kim seokjin x reader

⇥ genre: non-idol au, co-workers to lovers, smut, fluff

⇥ summary: you’re stuck working the evening shift on valentine’s day at bangtan bistro. as the city’s most expensive and exclusive restaurant, the bistro draws in couples both old and new with partners looking to propose or to impress. your tolerance for PDA and cringey lovebirds has never been lower. throw a flirty chef into the mix and you’re in for a bumpy ride that might just conclude with a happy ending.

⇥ word count: 5.4k

⇥ warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, bad puns from jin, numerous health-code violations (from fraternizing all up in that kitchen), oral (m + f receiving), protected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it, folks), workplace romance, threats of violence from yoongi

⇥ beta'd by the amazing @shadowsremedy (thank you, heath! could not have done this without you, your feedback, and your general support!)

“Will you marry me?”

I screech to a halt, completely astounded at the goddamned audacity of the man kneeling before me. Did he really just ask that? At a time like this?

I shift my weight from one foot to the other as I try not to outwardly show my disgust over the scene unfolding before my very eyes.

“Oh my god, Chad!” The date of this Chad finally launches herself from her seat and into his arms, “Yes!”

The restaurant breaks into applause. My forehead breaks into a sweat.

My left arm feels like it might snap at any moment under the weight of the tray of food that I’m meant to be serving this goddamn theatrical couple. The thought of quitting crosses my mind for the umpteenth time that evening.

A camera flash temporarily stuns me, and I feel a tiny twinge of satisfaction. My looming presence in that commemorative photo will hopefully be a reminder to let servers do their damn job before launching into a whole ordeal.

God, I must have been off my fucking rocker when I agreed to work the Valentine’s Day dinner shift. At least the tip money would be worth it.

Gritting my teeth, I flash my best fake smile and offer words of congratulations to the sniffling couple who finally reclaimed their seats.

“Enjoy your meal,” my mouth says with a smile.

“I wish I could sear you like that filet mignon you ordered, Chad,” my glare says with promise.

Thirty seconds later, I’m in full whisper-rant mode at the corner server station. My friend and fellow server Tabby half-listens as she punches in an order at the kiosk.

“And then this Chad in his fucking khaki suit flails to the ground to pop the question like he didn’t see me walking towards them with all seven entrees they ordered. So then I’m stuck hovering over their table with a giant-ass tray of food while they cry and hug and kiss until, finally, finally, they park it back in their seats so I can serve them.”

I groan, hitting my head against the wall, “What did I do in a past life to deserve this?”

“Kill someone, probably,” a voice pipes up from behind the station’s kitchen window, “Oh wait, you would do that in this life, too.”

Kim Seokjin, head chef of Bangtan Bistro and my partial employer, is leaning over the window’s counter, eyes full of mischief as he watches me.

“Oh, what’s this? Are you volunteering to be my very first victim?” I mirror his position leaning over the window’s counter and give him my best side-eye, “I’ll send you my application for victims on Google Docs.”

“Sounds kinky,” Seokjin grins, “Count me in. My Gmail username is Hugh Chefner. No capitals or spaces.”

“I despise you,” I say biting back a smile.

“You lo-o-ove me!” He sings, heading back into the depths of the hectic kitchen.

And, unfortunately, he’s right. Damn Kim Seokjin and his insane level of gorgeousness, charisma, and dramatics.

Against my better judgment, Seokjin has shimmied his chaotic self right into my well-guarded heart. Despite all of the prickliness my typical demeanor displays, I can’t help but melt under the warm gaze of such a handsome man.

Seokjin is the first person that has ever been able to pique my interest lately and keep it. Yes, it might have something to do with his extreme attractiveness; but, it more-so has everything to do with his genuine kindness and weird sense of humor.

Shit, I’ve gone soft. If we’re arguing Nature vs. Nurture here, this is totally Nurture’s fault.

Bangtan Bistro is co-owned by seven men - each as fine as the next. Being surrounded by good-looking and kind-hearted men day in and day out will definitely fuck with your brain, your body, and eventually even your fucking heart.

Kim Namjoon, a tall, dimpled sweetheart of a man, acts as general manager. Namjoon typically resides in the back office of the restaurant running numbers and going over other business ventures. He used to frequent the front of the restaurant to check on customers, but Jimin has since banned him from that activity after the infamous Spaghetti Incident of 2019.

Park Jimin, as the overseer of staff and servers, commands the restaurant floor with a crinkly-eyed smile and a ferocious temper. Fortunately for his direct subordinates (READ: me), his temper is most likely to be focused on rude customers and his messy business partners. Jimin honestly is the ideal boss because he has our backs and will never hesitate to help anyone out.

Late one Saturday evening, a man refused to leave the restaurant after being cut off from his bar tab. Jimin full-on squared up with him in defense of the poor server who had to break the news to the drunk patron. Luckily, the Bistro’s head of security, Jeon Jungkook, took over before Jimin actually popped off.

Jungkook, as the youngest partner, is shockingly tall and muscular. He definitely provides the intimidation needed for those types of escalating incidents. Despite his tough exterior, Jungkook is a complete softie.

I once caught Jungkook in the kitchen after close attempting to make cookies for a girl he had a crush on. I walked in to see Jungkook standing over a tray of the unidentifiable charred monstrosities and pouting in the most ridiculous way. Needless to say, I helped him bake a new batch with the oven not turned up to 500 degrees so that “they would cook faster”.

Min Yoongi had found the pair of us bickering and had just rolled his eyes and scooped a mouthful of raw cookie dough. As the head bartender, Yoongi is the absolute best at mixing drinks and the absolute worst at customer service. I swear the man gets far too much pleasure from getting people thrown out. He’s also notorious for watering down the drinks of customers he doesn’t like. He’s petty like that. I live for it.

Once, Jung Hoseok tried to take a picture of Yoongi for the restaurant’s website, and Yoongi threatened to shove a sharpened cocktail umbrella through Hoseok’s eye. I had never seen the Bistro’s head of marketing and resident sunshine flee so fast. Hoseok later ended up using an old picture of Yoongi in retaliation; rumor has it Yoongi is still plotting his revenge to this day.

Kim Taehyung often grumbles about how he’s going to be put out of a job since the restaurant naturally provides daily entertainment. As the head of entertainment and events, Taehyung helps to secure live music and special guests. He’s also the most handsome man I have ever seen - with the exception of one Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin, as head chef, is responsible for planning the seasonal menus, overseeing the kitchen staff, and preparing the more challenging dishes. He’s even taken it upon himself to be the resident comedian, which the other six partners vehemently and openly detest. Still, that backlash has not stopped him from naming each evening special with puns. His last Seokjin Special was called “Chicken Pot Bye Felicia”. It had resulted in Yoongi banning Seokjin from the restaurant for a full week. He still hasn’t dared to make another pun, but I can tell it will only be a matter of time.

Basically, Seokjin is an entirely goofy and beautiful mess of a human. Yet, I can’t stop myself from falling deeper and deeper into the trap that is loving someone outside of your league.

When I first arrived at the Bistro for my inaugural shift, I was greeted enthusiastically by Jimin, who I’d met previously in my interview. Jimin had introduced me to each of his partners - each as handsome as the last. Honestly, my eyes and nerves had been exhausted after meeting almost all of them. Then Jimin had ushered me into the kitchen.

“Hey, Jin-hyung!” Jimin had yelled over the cacophony of sizzling pans and murmured conversation. I had watched in awe as the hottest man I’ve ever seen entered my line of vision and stopped before me. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had a face that could inspire priceless works of art with full pink lips, high cheekbones, and devilish dark eyes.

“You summoned me, Jiminie?” The man had laughed in a slightly squeaky manner before he noticed my presence, “Ah, who might this be?”

I had cleared my throat in hopes that my voice wouldn’t crack under the sheer weight of this man’s attractiveness, “Hi, I’m (y/n). I’m starting today as a server.” and thrust my hand out with a shy smile.

He had blinked. Slowly, a smirk eased onto his face as he grabbed my hand. Instead of shaking it, he had brought it to his lips. “A pleasure. I’m Seokjin,” he had murmured, lips brushing against my knuckles. My cheeks had felt like they were on fire as Jimin screeched at Seokjin for harassing me.

“It’s her first day, Jin! Lay off the theatrics,” Jimin had turned to me, “Sorry about him, (y/n). He’s a desperate flirt.”

“Desperate? Me?” Seokjin gasped, “Worldwide Handsome does not do desperate.”

“Did you just refer to yourself as ‘Worldwide Handsome’?” I had gaped at his open arrogance.

Seokjin proudly had puffed up his chest, “Yes. What else could I possibly be called?”

“Well, definitely not Worldwide Humble,” My mouth had said before my brain caught up.

The room had seemed to pause before Jimin erupted in peals of laughter as Seokjin spluttered, “Yah, Jiminie, you can’t let her talk to me like that!”

Still laughing, Jimin had choked out, “(y/n), you officially have a job here until you die.”

Ever since that first encounter, Seokjin and I have established a working relationship based on banter or what Tabby refers to as ‘flirting’. I refuse to believe that ridiculous notion.

Tabby finally finishes entering her order into the kiosk and turns to me, “So, any hot plans for tonight?” Her eyebrows wiggle up and down suggestively.

“Does solo Netflix and chill count as hot plans?” I deadpan as I peer around the server station divider to covertly check on my tables. I lock eyes on Chad and his fiancé, who already seem to be arguing, and I make an executive decision to not go check how their meal is going.

“No!” Tabby’s whisper-yell commands my attention, “That definitely does not count, (y/n). Why didn’t you find someone on Tinder? I even made you that bomb-ass profile.”

I pointedly look everywhere but at her.

“You deleted the app, didn’t you,” she glares at me, arms folded, “I slaved over that profile! There were only so many tasteful cleavage shots of my best friend that I could stomach in one sitting!”

“What the fuck, Tabby! Since when do I have any—”

“Tasteful cleavage shots?” Seokjin’s elated voice practically shouts from the kitchen, “Let me at ‘em.”

His hands launch towards us through the kitchen window and make grabbing motions.

“Seokjin,” I tsk mockingly, “Are you trying to grab my tits again?”

“Again?” Tabby cries, whirling on Seokjin, who looks at us in horror.

“I wasn’t! I swear! I just wanted to see the pictures! I didn’t want to grab your boobs…” He trails off, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like ‘not any more than usual, anyway’.

“Seokjin-hyung! (y/n)!” Jimin blazes into the service station, “I’ve had it up to here with your bickering. You’re both on closing duties tonight - alone.”

“What?” I exclaim as Tabby slinks away. Traitor. “We’re just joking with each other! Right, Seokjin?”

Jimin’s gaze swings from me to Seokjin, who is suddenly suspiciously calm. My eyes narrow. A silent conversation is definitely happening without my participation.

Finally, Seokjin just shrugs with a grin, “Sounds fair to me, Jiminie! (y/n) and I will work hard all night if we have to.”

“Fair?” I choke, “All night?”

Jimin, following Tabby’s lead, scurries away as my attention is diverted by Seokjin’s idiocy. “Scared to be alone with me, (y/n)?” Seokjin’s lips break into a sly smile, “Don’t worry, I don’t bite… much.”

With that parting remark, Seokjin winks at me and disappears back into the kitchen.

“Fuck me,” I breathe out. How would I survive this?

Five hours later, the last patron has been ushered out of the restaurant with the staff right on their heels. I curse as Yoongi waltzes out the door, fanning himself with a crisp fifty-dollar bill and winking obnoxiously. “Have fun!” He cackles, locking the restaurant doors behind him.

“No, please don’t offer to stay and help,” I grumble, sweeping stray pieces of lettuce out from under a table, “I am more than happy to stay here until the ass-crack of dawn with the biggest idiot on the face of the earth.”

“The biggest, huh?” The voice chuckles right in my ear, “How did you know?”

“Goddamnit, Seokjin!” I slap a hand to my heart, “Don’t sneak up on me like that, you oaf!”

Whirling to face him, I stutter to a halt. He’s taken off his heavy chef’s coat and is now left in a tight black t-shirt that clings to his body in a manner that has to be illegal.

I swallow hard, and for a split second, I swear Seokjin’s gaze latches onto my throat.

“Is it hot in here?” I mutter distractedly, tugging at the collar of my stiff white button-down.

“Yes,” Seokjin practically purrs, “It’s scorching.”

Choosing not to acknowledge him, I spin on my heels, grabbing the full dustpan of debris I collected and head towards the back of the restaurant.

Emptying the dustpan in the trash, I walk over to the supply closet to return the broom. The restaurant floor is finished. Now, I just had to see how much of the kitchen Seokjin actually cleaned.

Pushing through the swinging doors of the kitchen, I screech to a halt as I’m faced with a complete and utter miracle.

“What in tarnation?” I gasp, taking in the pristine kitchen full of glistening stainless steel and sparkling countertops. “Kim Seokjin!” I yell, “You damn wizard! How the fuck did you clean everything this fast?”

“You could say I was motivated,” his reply sounds entirely too close. I spin to face him and gape as I notice the bouquet of red roses that he’s holding out to me.

Taking in my speechless appearance, Seokjin smiles smugly and opens his mouth to continue.

I cut him off, “Tell me those aren’t the roses from the fucking table centerpieces... I threw those in the trash, Seokjin!”

His ears turn an alarming shade of magenta, “Yah, just accept the gesture, (y/n)! This is peak romance, you know!”

“They are covered in filth, dude!” I squint, peering closer, “Is that a piece of spaghetti in there?”

Seokjin yeets the makeshift bouquet back into the garbage, “Why can’t you just appreciate my efforts?” He pouts excessively, “Don’t you like me?”

Red alert. Red alert, my mind whirs.

“Sure,” I let out a nervous laugh, “We’re friends. Of course, I like you.”

He steps towards me, “Sure, we’re friends, (y/n), but friends don’t usually want to fuck each other.”

That bitch said what now?

“Did you inhale too much Clorox?” I panic, “Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” Thrusting three fingers in front of Seokjin’s amused face, I widen my eyes as he suddenly grabs my hand.

“Baby,” he says lowly, sending a delicious shiver down my spine, “If you keep being so adorable, I may just have to keep you.”

Well, shit, okay. “Say less,” I breathe and then immediately slam my mouth shut.

I receive a classic Seokjin grin in return for my idiocy, and my knees shake. Honestly, who the fuck allowed him to be that devastating?

Slowly, his grin slips away, and his eyes ignite with raw desire, “Tell me what you want from me, (y/n).”

My mind short circuits, automatically reverting to my default mode of sass, “Uh, peace and quiet?”

“Really?” Seokjin murmurs, stepping even closer still, “So you don’t want me to kiss you? You don’t want me to turn you over and fuck you until you scream?”

My breathing is ragged. His eyes burn with a hunger I had never seen before, and I’m crumbling.

“Answer me,” Jin demands, desperation seeped in each word, “Please.”

“Seokjin—” I gasp, dumbfounded, “Where the hell is this coming from? We’re coworkers! You’re my boss!”

His eyes flashed darkly as he moved his head closer to mine, “That’s all irrelevant, baby.”

“Irrelevant—!” I stab a finger into his firm chest, “Oh, you little shit, you can’t just say that you want to fuck me and then say that our working relationship is irrelevant! I could get fired. You could get fired!”

“That’s highly unlikely given the fact that everyone else knows my plans to ask you out right now.”

“Hold on a second,” I narrow my eyes, “Are you saying that you purposefully planned for us to stay late tonight to clean the entire goddamn restaurant just so you could ask me out? Are you fucking insane?”

“I prefer the term ‘quirky’,” he quips, “But, yeah, I may have paid everyone $50 to leave us alone for the night.”

“Well, that explains Yoongi… that shady motherfucker,” I internally make note to plot my vengeance. “Why couldn’t you have just slid in my DMs like a normal person, Seokjin?” I groan, “I would have responded to a ‘you up’ with a ‘yes, come over’.”

Seokjin whips out his cell phone. “Does this apply to right now?” he asks, typing furiously.

My phone dings with several Instagram notifications.

hughchefner: u up

hughchefner: wyd

hughchefner: date me?

(y/n): bet

Seokjin’s eyes shoot up to mine after he reads my response, “Really? You agreed to date me by saying ‘bet’ in an Instagram DM?”

“Yup,” I shrug, “No take-backs. Also, to answer your previous questions: Yes, I do want you to kiss me with your insufferable mouth, and, yes, I do want to sit on your dick. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Say less,” Seokjin echoes my earlier statement and captures my mouth with his. I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him back with equal fervor.

“(Y/n),” he groans right as my tongue swipes teasingly against his lower lip.

His hands slid down my body, pausing only to squeeze my waist gently before settling firmly on my ass. His fingers dig in hard and I let out an embarrassingly loud moan.

“You like that, baby? You like when I’m rough?” Seokjin pulls his lips off mine and murmurs sinfully, “God, I want to devour you.”

I lift my chin up and challenge, “Do it, you won’t.”

His eyes flare, “Oh, babygirl, you were made for me.” Seokjin’s lips return to mine, moving at a slow but ravenous pace.

Still kissing me, he picks me up and places me on one of the kitchen’s stainless steel counters. His hands grab my thighs, tugging them apart to make room for him to stand between them. A harsh groan rises from the depths of his chest as our bodies align.

I hook one leg around his waist and tug him closer still. Pulling my lips away, I lean my head back as I slowly trace his muscles through his shirt. He watches me with his puffy lips parted, his breathing hard. His eyes are wild and I’m loving every second of it.

The room suddenly feels too hot. My hands dart up to shakily begin undoing the buttons of my shirt. Seokjin’s eyes follow my movements with fascination. “Let me,” he purrs and proceeds to rip my shirt from my body. Buttons scatter on the floor with sorrowful little bounces.

“You bitch,” I yank his hair, “That was my good work shirt.”

“I’ll buy you ten more,” Seokjin’s voice is rough and full of desire as he takes in my lacy white bra. Suddenly, his mouth descends to suck at my nipple through the thin lace.

“Damn, you are so fucking sexy,” he pulls his mouth away, “Can I take this off?”

I nod like a bobblehead in 60mph winds, reaching around my back with one hand to undo the clasp and then throwing my bra clear across the kitchen. It lands on top of one of the fridges and I shrug. I’d retrieve it later.

Seokjin tugs off his own shirt, revealing planes of tanned skin. I don’t hesitate to run my hands up and down the definition of his abs and watch in fascination as his muscles constrict under my touch. I run my hands lower, tracing his defined v-line.

No wonder they call it the Adonis belt, I muse, pondering if he’d let me lick it.

Huffing in impatience at my slow exploration, Seokjin returns his mouth to my nipple and sucks hard. My eyes nearly roll into the back of my head. He bites down gently and then blows on my nipple slowly. I moan at the sensation. I watch him through unfocused eyes as his hand slides down the front of my body. He reaches the button of my pants and pauses.

Seokjin pulls his mouth away from my nipple, his lips swollen and pink. “You have to say yes, baby.” His breath hits my ear, making me shiver.

I hold out my hand for a high-five and declare, “We stan a man who asks for clear consent.” Chuckling, Seokjin slaps my offered hand and then links his fingers with mine.

“Also,” I continue, looking into his eyes, “It’s a fuck yes.” I pull our linked fingers close to place a kiss on his knuckles.

“Cute,” he grins, “Now, can I take off your pants?”

“Take off yours first,” I order.

“So eager,” he laughs, making quick work of his black jeans. My mouth instantly waters at the sight of his hard cock straining to be released from the confines of his bright red Versace boxer briefs.

“Why am I not surprised that even your underwear is extra?” I mumble, flicking the button of my pants open.

Laughing, Seokjin takes over, tugging my pants down my legs. He then pushes my matching white lace panties aside and cups my pussy, applying pressure. I roll my hips into his hand.

His fingers trace lightly up and down my pussy, before one dips inside me. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he groans.

“Always,” I breathe out. Suddenly, he pulls his hand away from me. I pout. Seokjin laughs at my expression and then licks his finger.

“Jesus fuck, (y/n), you taste so sweet. Let me eat you out,” he pleads.

I smirk, saying, “I thought you’d never ask,” and then gasp as he kneels before me, grabbing my hips. Seokjin moves to tear my underwear off, and I’m quick to place my foot on his forehead to stop his approach. “I swear to god, Seokjin, if you rip these, I will get Namjoon to permanently ban Seokjin Specials.”

“You’re evil,” he grins, “I love it.” He makes a show of slowly taking my panties off before throwing them carelessly behind him. He then yanks the same leg I had used to thwart his panty-tearing plans and throws it over his shoulder before returning his fingers to my pussy. Seokjin’s thumb circles my clit while two of his fingers thrust into me at a maddening rate.

My fingers grip his hair when I finally feel his tongue licking up the juices that have started to run down my thighs.

After sucking what will probably become a massive hickey onto my left inner thigh, his tongue licks a path straight up my folds until it circles around my clit maddeningly. “Goddamnit, Seokjin, stop teasing,” my voice cracks in desperation, but my plea works. His tongue flicks at my clit lightly before his lips close over it and suck.

“Fuck,” I moan, “I think I like you eating me out more than I like eating your cooking.”

He pulls back to briefly land a light swat on my pussy and I choke on air as painful pleasure shoots through me. “Take that back,” he growls, “My cooking is second only to my handsome face.”

“God, I fucking hate you,” I drawl. The emphasis in my words portrays the exact opposite.

Seokjin sends me a shit-eating grin before his tongue returns to lick at my swollen clit, up and down, and then in a slow circle. His fingers brush open my folds just enough for him to sink his tongue into me. “O-oh,” I throw my head back, one hand moving up to pinch one of my nipples while the other latches back into Seokjin’s hair.

“I’m s-so close, baby,” my words slur as I shamelessly beg, “Don’t stop.”

He immediately pulls away.

“Oh, fuck you,” I seethe. I yank his head back by his hair until his neck is stretched in a long line. His hair is a mess, and I’ve never seen anything hotter.

“I just want to feel you come when I’m inside you, baby,” he smiles, my wetness glistening on his lips.

“Fine,” I shimmy off of the counter onto shaky legs, “Two can play at that game.”

“What?” Seokjin’s brows furrow in confusion.

It’s my turn to drop to my knees. “Oh, shit,” he curses as I tug his boxers down to reveal his hard cock. It’s silky and gorgeous, and I can’t stop staring at it. Seokjin, of course, notices. “You like my cock, babygirl? Take it. It’s yours.”

It already was, I think, as my gaze darts up to meet his.

Without breaking eye contact, I lick his reddened tip, almost moaning at his taste. “Fuck, babygirl,” Seokjin throws his head back. I smile wickedly. I could definitely get addicted to ruining this beautiful boy. “Look at me,” I command, feeling so powerful when he immediately listens.

Slowly, I suck down on his length, hollowing out my cheeks. My eyes stay on his as he groans, and I can tell he’s straining to keep from thrusting into my mouth.

“Please, baby, fuck—!” He moans as I swallow around him and then release him from my mouth with a pop. My hand darts up to grip him tightly, pumping him. Moving slowly, I suck one of his balls into my mouth, rolling my tongue around it gently. Seokjin chokes, “Fuck me.”

“We’ll get there, baby,” I tug my mouth away and grin up at him.

I suck him as far down as I can. His control snaps and he begins to thrust wildly into my mouth, panting.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” his eyes scrunch up as he chants, “I’m gonna come.”

I release him ruthlessly.

“Goddamnit,” he cries, “I knew that was coming, but it still hurts.”

“Well,” I wiggle my eyebrows at him, “If only you had a pretty little pussy ready for you to fuck… Oh, wait.”

Seokjin chuckles, “I see I wasn’t able to fuck some of the sass out of that mouth. We might have to try that again later.”

“Gladly,” I grin back at him, “You have a condom?”

Seokjin picks up his discarded jeans from the floor and digs around in the back pockets. “Aha!” He yells, hoisting up the glimmering gold foil in triumph.

I roll my eyes before snatching the condom from the idiot. Tearing the foil packaging open with my teeth, I grab Seokjin’s length and pump him a few times in preparation.

“Stop being a tease,” he mumbles, thrusting shallowly into my hand.

“Stop being so hot,” I challenge, leaning down to lick his pre-cum dripping from the reddened tip of his cock.

“Impossible,” Seokjin smirks before tugging me back up to face him.

He drops his lips to mine and sucks on my bottom lip. Pulling away slightly, he tugs at it in a stinging bite. Withdrawing his mouth from mine, he spins me around and bends me over the counter.

I feel the head of his cock running teasingly over the folds of my pussy and I gasp, “Please, baby, I need you inside me.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He thrusts into me in one sharp movement. We both gasp as he fills me, gliding in and out.

“Harder,” I moan.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “I’m trying to last over here.”

“Why? We have all night,” I pout before an idea pops into my head, and I taunt, “Wait, are you telling me you’re a one and done type of old man?”

“Oh, you’re going to regret that,” Seokjin mutters darkly.

His hard cock fills and stretches me, pleasure emanating within me from every sharp thrust of his hips.

“Your pussy is mine,” he growls, “I’ll fuck you from against the wall after this. I’ll fuck you until you can’t sass me anymore. And I’ll fuck you all night, baby, and every night after that.”

I clench around him as his dirty words wash over me. “Those are all great ideas in theory,” I gasp out, “But I really want to ride you first.”

“Oh, babygirl wants to fuck herself on my cock?” Seokjin slaps my ass before pulling out, “Well, come on.”

I stand upright and turn to see him walking towards the large island in the middle of the room. He hops onto it and lays down, placing one arm behind his head, and the other one slowly strokes his cock.

“You better get that hand off your cock before I decide to never let you into my pussy again,” I say darkly as I move towards him.

His hand flies off his dick at the speed of light, his eyes wide as they focus on me.

When I get close enough, I climb up onto the island and kneel with one leg on each side of his tapered waist. I slowly sink down so that just his tip is inside me and squeeze.

A garbled moan escapes Seokjin, his hands shooting out to grab my waist in an attempt to push me down further.

“Someone’s eager,” I whisper, bending down to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“I’ve been fucking eager since you were hired.” He smacks my ass and then groans as I reflexively sink down another inch.

“Yeah?” I question, sinking down another inch as his eyes squeeze shut, “You should have said something sooner, baby. I could have been riding you hard for months.”

Seokjin pouts, “Well, there’s no time like the present?”

“God, you’re such a dweeb,” I grin before taking him to the hilt. We both let out strangled breaths as I shift slightly, before placing a hand on his neck.

Keeping my hand there, I lift up and begin riding him hard. My body slides up and down onto his cock at a fast pace. Sweat drips down my back. Seokjin grabs my ass, his fingers gripping my skin, and pounds up into my pussy with brutal and possessive force.

“O-oh, fuck.” There’s something about riding Seokjin that just feels so good. My hips swivel and roll against his. The pleasure steadily builds, and I try to distract myself by biting down on Seokjin’s neck.

“I’m gonna come,” he moans, “Are you close?”

I pull away from his neck and sit up, arching my back to give him a deeper angle. He thrusts up into my g-spot and I gasp, “Shit, yes, I’m close. Come with me, baby.”

I clench my walls around him. Seokjin’s eyes are scrunched shut as he continues to pound into me with harsh strokes.

He shifts one hand from my ass to gently circle my aching clit, and I light up. My walls clench and pulse, locking down on Seokjin so tight that he comes, his hot seed filling the condom as he shudders.

I collapse against him and shove my face into his sweaty neck.

I can feel his laugh bubbling up from his chest before I hear it. “What’s so funny?” I ask, lips brushing his skin.

“Namjoon’s going to kill us for the number of health code violations we just committed,” his laughter causes his cock to shift within me, and I bite back a moan.

“Well,” I lift my face up from his neck to look at him, “We have nothing to lose at this point then, huh?”

I slowly lick my lips, and his eyes drop to them. The only noise left in the restaurant is our heavy breathing. “Round two in Namjoon’s office?” he suggests.

“Bet.”

a/n: this was so fun to write :) hope you all enjoyed it! happy valentine’s day!

#fwlproject #luvlibrary #bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #hyunglinenetwork #ksj #ksj x reader #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #bts #bts smut

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satans-codpiece · 3 years

Text

Halloween Kills Spoilers

I literally just got back from seeing it so I want to go through some thoughts. Some NSFT content because it’s Michael and I want to fuck him.

First, the bad! Aspects I did not enjoy:

Significant filler; Halloween Kills being split from Halloween Ends is a major flaw-- Halloween Kills has been significantly padded out to make up for the runtime. Some of this filler is fine (Oscar’s mother, for example, I didn’t hate), but the hospital/Trovoli plot and Laurie/Hawkins scene could’ve been compressed significantly. Give us more Michael rampage instead of repetitive cut-up dialogue, you know? Also a real problem because most of the filler is at the start of the movie, making it take a good 15 minutes to get to any content I care about. I think there might have been a way to present this information in a more enjoyable way, but it just felt like lifeless padding to me.

1978 Flashbacks. Fine to include to explain Hawkin’s hatred of Michael, but the retcon of Lonnie Elam’s character is complete filler. Could’ve still left him as-is, have him see Michael, and cut down on unnecessary scene with childhood bullies that don’t really help me enjoy or understand Lonnie’s 2018 personality. I enjoyed that the flashbacks weren’t included in 2018, leaving the viewer to piece together what happened- it isn’t necessary to show your viewer everything.

Supernatural Michael. Listen. It’s only implied by Laurie, who’s already traumatized as fuck and fucked up on pain killers, but having her monologue about him being “more than human” as he shrugs off multiple knife stab wounds, a pitchfork stab, 5 more gunshots, and multiple blunt force hits.......... really does not leave me enthusiastic. I think Halloween 2018 succeeded so well because of the return of “He’s just a Regular Man, but Murderous” Michael Myers. When he’s hurt in 2018 he does grunt and flinch and disappears for a while. It’s why 4-6 doesn’t leave me satisfied but H20 does. I’m really hoping, idk, they’ll have him recuperate somehow between movies to emphasize that he’s human and isn’t actually just immortal.

Reset on Karen’s personality. Karen ends 2018 by finding her will to fight, but at the start of Kills she’s again demoted to “the cops will handle this.” and has to relearn that cops can’t do shit. Sadly her 2018 revelation holds more poignancy than her Kills revelation (using her childhood rifle, a core part of her trauma, in self defense vs failing to save a total stranger from mob justice, then joining in on mob justice).

Not enough Laurie! Most of her screentime is spent building Karen’s or Hawkin’s character arcs, she ended up feeling ornamental, like a celeb cameo instead of a main character. If her mantle of “The Strode We Care About” had been entirely passed to Karen or Allison I would have less of a problem (i.e. have her actually be unconscious most of the movie), but instead she’s around just enough to be like “Karen you’re wrong” and “Hawkins you’re wrong.”

Weird emphasis on knives? This one may change categories as I think about it. I know, I know, knives are Michael’s signature weapon, it’s all his promo art. But it seems like every victim picks up a knife, then fails to use it except Allison. At least three characters I can think of specifically pick up knives to fend off Michael and then fail to even swing them. There might be some symbolism that just isn’t landing right on first watch through (a definite theme is “Michael turns other people into monsters”, with the wielding of knives linking Michael, which I’m not a fan of considering Halloween 2018 opens with that thesis and Laurie immediately rebukes it).

Things I enjoyed!

MICHAEL’s CHARACTERIZATION. I was very, very worried from the trailer that he might be different, but holy shit. JJC really is born to play Michael Myers. He’s completely remorseless, hard to understand, has a weird sense of humor, and what I think is most important:

the mask plays a role for him. In ‘78 he stops attacking Laurie to put his mask back on, in 2018 the only reaction he really shows is when he’s presented with the mask and he even strokes the mask before putting it on. In the novelization, the mask is personified! They keep his consistency by having him stop attacking Allison when she’s takes it off and immediately have him chase Karen when she steals it-- and he puts it on before facing down the mob.

Continuing, his obsession with “coming home.” This really hasn’t been touched on since the original movie and, unfortunately, Resurrection. Loomis himself warns the town that Michael is coming home, and Michael does in the original movie. I’m on the fence about the window scene, it’s edging into “explaining Michael Myers” territory, and I much prefer him as completely mysterious, unexplainable (in canon) and left to the viewer’s interpretation. It’s just open enough to not define him in any way, but I can’t imagine they won’t build on that for Halloween Ends.

Seriously. There’s a huge problem with this movie’s filler but all the Michael content itself is flawless. I cannot over state this. Every scene that shows him has this wonderful camera work, showing him slightly off-screen, off-center, out of focus in this way that makes him so much more intimidating I love it.

The absolute refusal to show his unmasked face clearly is a great move. Revealing JJC’s face would’ve felt cheap, but any time he is maskless he’s out of focus, facing away from the camera, or perfectly out of frame. Maskless Michael in 1978 felt... rewarding, like proof he’s human. The shot is poorly lit and only lasts a moment, and Kills does not sully that.

MICHAEL’S STAGING. To my recollection this is the first time in a Halloween movie we actually see Michael creating his little scenes. He moves bodies in the original and 2018, so more continuity for this timeline-- but without any indications of what he’s thinking we get to see Michael move a victim and stage them! (in ‘78 we see him move Annie but don’t see what he does with her until Laurie finds her).

Michael is more brutal in the 78 flashback. This one comes 100% from my pussy but him killing that cop was hot as fuck and deserve its own bullet point.

All the kills. Seriously. Some were obviously over the top and approaching Resurrection levels of stupid, but overall they concluded in hot as fuck sequences that literally, seriously made me salivate. He lifts a dude up with a fire axe. He stabs a lady in the throat. He leans into a car, crowds up on a woman, and stabs her repeatedly. It’s hot. It’s so hot. I need gifs immediately.

Attention to detail!!! Michael’s injuries from 2018 are clearly present, blood stains from his shoulder wound and damage to the mask from the face shot are visible! I love that shit!!!

Bandaged hand! As a counter point to supernatural Michael, it does clearly show that sometime between his kills he stops and bandages his hand. Still, he’s taken a lot of damage and somehow managed to navigate back to his house and kill Karen without anyone noticing.

Karen. I called this from the moment 2018 ended, and I am glad they did not disappoint on that theme. I wish her death had been a little more graphic since she is a Strode, but having her reenact Judith’s murder is also pretty cool.

Predictions/Desires:

Exploration into Michael’s psyche (derogatory) and his relationship with Judith (derogatory). Why include the window details if not build on it? Why have Sartain be obsessed with his relationship to Judith? why have Michael wake/react to Judith’s name? why recreate her murder with Karen? I don’t want this to be the case, but there’s wayyy too much pointing towards a Judith-centered plot.

#kat talks #halloween kills #halloween kills spoilers #halloween spoilers #spoilers #long post #edited to fix an error

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goddessofthundathighs · 4 years

Text

X. REVELATION

Word Count: 2.9K

*taps mic* Is this thing on? Aight, I know I said that I’d update CS every 3-5 business months, but life happened for both me & @hearteyes-for-killmonger. Let me just tell y’all how many times I wanted to completely scrap this book, simply because for a second, I fell out of love with it. I also thought that you guys were no longer interested. For our loyal readers, thank you for sticking with us! This chapter is fairly short, but MAJOR progression is made!

It’s also late, so this is un-beta’d. Any errors will be corrected in the morning.

************

Skylar’s face turned up in a wide grin as O’Shea came downstairs with her latest flower arrangement. If Oya wasn’t good at anything else, she was a professional at wooing her. The bright yellow of the freshly picked sunflowers was a beautiful contrast to the deep red hue of the roses. She’d forgotten that she’d mentioned that they were her favorites.

“With love, from Bae,” O’Shea read teasingly, only making the smile on Skylar’s face stretch wider. “And again I ask, why aren’t the two of you officially a thing? The mutual attraction is obvious and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this wide. Like you’re really flashing all 32 right now,” she asked, placing the vase on the corner of Sky’s desk.

“Because it’s not that easy, Shea. I have walls that need to be broken down and we both have issues that we need to work through. This is why SPT is so important. I have to understand exactly who I’m dealing with before we take things to the next level.”

O’Shea nodded. She hadn’t really thought about their situation like that. She’d just assumed that Sky was still working through ridding herself of Monica and was afraid of being heartbroken again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask about that. So is she Erik’s client now?”

“Yes. He’ll be her official therapist and draw up our plan of action as far as treatment.”

“Why does she feel like she needs treatment? She doesn’t seem to struggle sexually.”

“Looks can be deceiving, Shea. Behavior is also an indication that there may be underlying issues. Most of the clients that Erik and I treat are fully functioning. Look at you, for example.” Shea pulls a face. It was entirely too early in the workday for Skylar to be coming for her edges. She hadn’t even finished her acai breakfast bowl. “Aye, we not talking about me,” she fussed, placing her hands on her hips.

“But you fit the example. Personally, I think her excessive need to be sexual is a cover for something deeper, I just have to get her to tell me what it is.”

Sky couldn’t deny the soft spot she had for Oya. Even if things didn’t work out on the personal side of their relationship, she still cared for her and wanted to ensure she received the best treatment. Regardless of past situations, everybody deserved to be loved and accepted for who they truly are.

A pregnant silence engulfed Erik’s office as Oya and Skylar waited for him to speak. For the last 45 minutes he had been busy typing away at his computer, only pausing briefly to think before starting again. Once finished, he leans back in the Italian leather chair, stroking his beard as he gives the therapy plan a final onceover.

“Alright, before we begin, we first need to get to the root of the problem. Oya, why do you feel you need SPT and what do you hope to gain from it, other than my business partner as a mate?”

Ouch.

Oya recoiled slightly at his brashness. She hadn’t expected to be put on front street so quickly, nor was she prepared to discuss her history so soon. She suddenly felt bare, like she had been stripped of all of her clothing in front of a crowded high school auditorium and her anxiety was spiking. Skylar took notice of how withdrawn she’d become and placed a comforting hand on her thigh.

“It’s okay, Oya. You don’t have to explain in detail just yet, we just need a general idea of what we’re dealing with so that we approach it in the best way,” Skylar explained, the gentleness of her voice causing Oya to return her soft smile.

While she knew that there wasn’t a logical reason to be afraid of Erik or his opinion, her brain had been conditioned to be critical of men ever since that fateful night in her uncle’s basement. Still, having Skylar there was comforting. Her presence made it easier to generate a Spark Notes version of her past.

“I was abused and shunned as a child and as a result, became overtly sexual. While I know that sex can’t fill the void that was left from that experience, it’s the only way to silence the voices in my head. I started looking into SPT because I saw that abuse survivors can benefit from it.”

Erik’s face softened from its usual hard line. While he’d assumed this girl had been through the ringer, his mind couldn’t begin to fathom just how deep her trauma ran.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” he started. “Since it’s obvious that you’re a lot more comfortable speaking to Sky about this, how about the two of you do dinner. If not tonight, then later this week. During dinner, Oya, I need you to be as transparent as possible. I need you to go into full detail of what happened and then Skylar will report back to me. The two of us will formulate a comprehensive 8-week therapy plan, which will be implemented starting next week. Are you okay with doing this?”

Oya nodded, finally allowing herself to completely relax.

“We’re gonna get you right, Ms. Ramirez. Over the next 8 weeks you’ll watch yourself become a new woman, I guarantee it,” Erik smiles, offering her his hand to shake.

She accepts the invitation, returning his smile in the most infectious way before turning to Skylar.

“I know SPT doesn’t always require sex, but we can still implement some BDSM therapy, right?”

Sky laughs in response. Leave it to Oya to bring sexual humor into an otherwise serious situation.

“Baby steps, Ms. Ramirez.”

Oya's salmon arrived on the table and she licked her chops, having been out all day without eating. Why Sky had inquired about her level of hunger, Oya stated that her radiant smile was enough to fill her, however, the angry cry of her stomach told a different tale.

The pair opted for a Friday evening dinner, an excuse for Skylar to have a drink or two and not worry about having to work the following day. She sips her Hendricks and tonic slowly, savoring the crisp taste of the cucumbers she requested be added to the concoction.

Oya slammed face first into her plate effectively scaring the shit out of Sky who was currently rethinking a few things in regard to diet based on Oya's uncouth and grizzly attack on her fish.

"Well. She eats fish like I eat pussy," Sky sighed, brushing it off. Still, she found herself keeping her eyes down to her own plate.

"I wasn't that hungry," Oya belched, wiping her mouth with her stained paper napkin. "I'll take another one still."

After her second fish, Sky was appalled at the way Oya had violated those salmon. She decided that she would also train Oya to eat like a human being and they would practice on a sushi date, since they require smaller bites.

“Alright fish murderer,” Sky finally chirps. “You’ve avoided the inevitable long enough, it’s time to talk.” Oya lifts her head slowly, much like a dog who has just been scolded for peeing on fresh carpet.

“Do we really have to talk about this? Like is it honestly necessary?”

“Yes, Oya. With all due respect, we can’t treat you if we don’t know what we’re treating. You gotta give us something.”

“I gave you something earlier,” she snaps defensively.

“Yes, but that’s not enough. There are several forms of abuse, Oya. Just saying you were abused doesn’t really tell us anything. We can’t use verbal abuse treatment methods to treat a victim of physical abuse. You understand that, right?” Sky asks incredulously.

Oya pinches the bridge of her nose in annoyance. She was beginning to regret even bringing up the whole thing. While she thought she was ready to expose this part of her life, fear and her anxiety were getting the best of her. She was beginning to close up again.

Just tell her, her psyche coaxes.

“I was raped by my mother’s brother when I was ten. It happened nearly everyday for 6 months. It took everything in me to say something to my mother about it, but when I finally did, she accused me of lying.”

A lone tear slid down Oya’s cheek at the memory.

“From that point on, I haven’t been able to trust or fully commit to a man. Which is why I couldn’t talk to Dr. Stevens earlier. I know he means well, but --”

“It’s a work in progress, I understand,” Skylar interjects.

“To this day, she refuses to acknowledge what that man did to me, even though he’s currently serving a 20-year prison sentence for pedophilia. From that point on, sex was my escape. I know it sounds oxymoronic, but it helped fill the void and silence the pain. Even if the gratification was short lived.

Skylar takes her hand, offering a napkin to wipe the fresh tears that slid down her face.

“I think we should start slow. I’ll get with Erik, but I feel like our first few sessions should be meditation and sensate focus. I want you to be comfortable with touching and being touched in a nonsexual manner before we move onto more advanced methods. Are you ok with that?”

“I think so,” Oya admits. “I’ve been using sex to run from my demons for majority of my life. I don’t want to hide anymore.”

“And when this is all over, you won’t have to,” Skylar smiles.

“I still wanna be your sex slave at some point, though,” Oya jokes.

“Check please!” Sky laughs.

After several back and forth debates as to where the session should be held, the doctors finally decided that Oya’s house would be best.

“It’s somewhere that she feels comfortable, and therefore, it should be easier for her to open up,” Erik said once the final decision was made. Sky nods her agreement, texting Oya to alert her of the plan.

Sky: Instead of coming to my office, we’ll be doing the session at your house. Is that ok?

Oya: Ooh, I get the good doctor all to myself. Say less. Here’s my address

Skylar chuckles at her eagerness, adding the address to her Maps app for later access.

“She seems excited,” she tells Erik, pocketing her phone.

“For now,” he says, sliding a manila folder towards her. “She’s flighty, so her nervousness can come back at any moment. Make sure you keep her relaxed the entire time.”

“Why you talking to me like she’s my first patient?”

“Just making sure your head is in the right place. You’re typically behind the scenes. Patients like Oya can be tricky.”

“I got this, dad,” Sky groans, swinging her bag over her shoulder as she stands to leave.

“You better stop. You ain’t called a nigga Daddy in a minute, Nola.”

“Goodbye, Stevens! I’ll let you know how things go.”

“Text me. I promised the baby brat we’d go to the carnival later. She’s been dying for a funnel cake and a new stuffie.”

“Aww, how sweet,” Sky beams, armed with new ammunition to tease Shea with once they were back in the office. After reading through the therapy plan for herself, she rests the folder and her bag in the passenger seat and heads home. She would need the rest of the night to prepare for the next day’s session.

The California sun beamed brightly as Skylar made her way to Oya’s apartment. It was a beautiful three bedroom, three bath unit in Playa Vista, not far from the beach. Skylar was immediately drawn to the brightness of the space, the white walls with soft marble and gold accents adding to the feminine charm.

“I was thinking we could do this in my meditation room,” Oya said once Sky was done with her exploration.

“Ooh meditation room,” Skylar squealed, following her into what would become her favorite room in the entire unit. Behind the curtain of strung selenite crystals lay a spiritual oasis. Two black Buddah statues sat on both sides of the entrance while pink, orange, and yellow pillows decorated the floor. They looked to be from Bali or some other spiritual region. On the east and western walls were sun and moon appliques, subtle nods to the orishas Yemoja and Oshun, while chakra posters and decorations line the southern wall. On an inverted bookshelf near the front facing wall lay her crystals, sage, and a small altar Sky could tell had been used recently.

“Okay, I already loved the rest of the house, but this room is a whole vibe,” Skylar compliments, pulling out her notebook and video camera. “It’s standard practice that these sessions are recorded, but if you’re uncomfortable being on film, I have a tape recorder.”

“No, the camera is fine,” Oya assured, taking a seat on the pink pillow. She sat Indian style with her palms resting on her knees. Skylar placed her camera between two rose quartz cathedrals, taking a few test shots to ensure the angle was perfect. Once done, she mimicked Oya’s stance on the yellow pillow across from her.

“It is the third day of March and the time is 3:33 pm,” Skylar says, beginning the recording.

“I see you, Universe,” Oya muses to herself, allowing herself to be consumed by the feeling of divine protection.

“We’re going to start with simple breathing exercises to get you relaxed and comfortable, okay?” Oya nods in response. “First I need you to sit up straight, but keep your shoulders and neck relaxed.”

Oya complies, rolling her neck to the sides to release some apparent tension.

“Now, close your eyes and visualize your happy place. It could be the beach or your bed, just wherever makes you feel the happiest,” Sky instructs, doing the same. “Now, breathe in deep through your nose, hold it for about five seconds, then release through your mouth.”

The two repeat these steps about five times before Oya is finally allowed to open her eyes. Skylar makes note of the sated look in her eyes.

“How do you feel?” she asks softly.

“Surprisingly, I feel really good. I do breathing exercises often, but I don’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed before.” “Good, that’s what we want. Now, we’ll move into sensate touching. I’ll need you to remove your jewelry and as much clothing as you’re comfortable with.”

Oya’s face turns up into a sly smirk.

“Are you getting fresh with me, Dr. Greene,” she teases, slowly removing the white Nike crop top.

Sky chuckles before answering.

“Quite the opposite, Ms. Ramirez. In sensate touching, participants are typically nude and free from jewelry. The method we’ll be practicing this afternoon is non-genital sensate touching, which means that I will touch every single part of your body except your breasts and your vagina. While sensate touching may cause arousal, it is important that you remain professional and focus only on your own sensations while being touched, understood?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Oya responds, saluting for emphasis. This makes Skylar giggle.

“I can already tell you’re not going to make this easy for me, Ms. Ramirez.” “I promise to be a good girl, Dr. Greene. You have my word.”

“Alright. This first session will be strictly me touching you with my hands. If this goes well, then we can introduce other elements, such as feathers, scarves, and even oils. If at any point you feel uncomfortable or sleepy, let me know and we can continue another time.”

“I’m not allowed to fall asleep?” Oya questions.

“No. It’s important that you remain awake and conscious through the entire experience,” Sky responds, positioning herself behind Oya. Slowly and deliberately, Skylar rubs her hands up Oya’s arms, starting with just her palms. She moves up to her shoulders and neck, alternating between firm and subtle pressure to the pressure points there.

“Mmm,” Oya moans softly. “You should consider massage therapy,” she coos, allowing her head to fall slightly.

“You think so?” Sky asks with a grin. “Yes ma’am. Your touch is very relaxing, Dr. Greene,” Oya shudders as Skylar’s fingertips dance up and down her back.

“Well I’m glad you think so, Ms. Ramirez.”

The session continues for exactly 33 minutes before Oya’s eyes start to droop. “Okay, I think we need to stop, otherwise, I’m gonna be asleep in your arms,” Oya says, her voice audibly more soft and relaxed than when they first began.

Skylar shuts the camera off and makes a few more notes in her notebook before putting her things away. Without thinking, she sits down beside Oya, pulling her so that she was cradled against her supple bosom.

“I don’t think I’d object to that much,” she beams.

Oya bites her lip softly before staring up into Sky’s big green eyes. She could see herself getting lost in them for days.

“You think you’re capable of fixing me? I’m damaged goods, Dr. Greene.” Her voice came out just above a whisper, her tone laced with vulnerability. Skylar smoothed her hair, tucking a stray curl behind her ear before delivering her heartfelt response.

“A smushed Reese’s cup is still a Reese’s cup, Ms. Ramirez. And I happen to really like Reese’s cups.”

Oya’s smile spread across her whole face, a soft twinkle dancing in her eyes.

“I’ll be your Reese’s cup.”

@vikkidc @thadelightfulone @sydneebleu @blktinkerbell @madamslayyy @chaneajoyyy @jozigrrl @thehomierobbstark @ @iamrheaspeaks @mareethequeen @forbeautyandlife @whatmoredoyouwantamericaa @blowmymbackout @wakanda-inspired @yaachtynoboat711 @nickidub718 @heyauntieeee @princessstevens @bakarilennox @xaviera108 @alexundefined @raysunshine78 @dameshaemonique @laketaj24 @youreadthatright @theogbadbitch @bugngiz @amirra88 @post-woke @im5ftbutmythroat66 @blackpinup22 @maya-leche @blessyd-bthyname @unholyxcumbucket @eclecticblkgirl @kissmyafropuff @rick-sosa @jennajai @allhailqueennel @killmongersbaby @eye-raq @thickemadame @soulfulbeauty19 -

#vanity writes #my shit #erik stevens #killmonger smut #daddy erik #killmonger fic #bde #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x black oc #carnal stimulation

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ghost-in-the-hella · 4 years

Note

51. “You make me feel alive.” with PriceMarsh.

My apologies for taking so long to finish this! For whatever reason, Kate POV seems to take me extra long to get my head around. Better late than never, I hope!

CW for implied cutting, implied suicidality, referenced canon drugging and sexual assault (the Vortex Club incident), and referenced homophobic and emotionally abusive parenting.

---

“I’m a bad influence on you,” Chloe says, and for a moment she’s so beautiful in the moonlight that Kate doesn’t catch the sadness in her voice.

“What?” Kate says when it registers. “No, you aren’t.”

Chloe stares at her unblinkingly, cigarette raised so that her face is wreathed with smoke, and gives her a look like she’s somehow proving her point simply by existing.

“You aren’t,” Kate repeats more firmly. “What, you think nobody’s ever smoked in front of me before? I do all kinds of community service. Plenty of people have smoked in front of me.”

“Okay, but did they smoke in front of you after sneaking you out of the dorms past curfew, and did they commit petty crimes before they lit up?”

Kate rolls her eyes and shakes her head softly. “I still say you’re not a bad influence on me. I didn’t vandalize anything.”

“Mm. You did let a persona non grata delinquent into the dorms and then sneak out with her so she could tag public property, though.”

“True, but…” Kate kicks her feet gently in the air as she thinks. The metal of Chloe’s truck bed is cold and hard beneath her thighs, but right now it’s more comfortable than her own dorm bed. She hasn’t felt safe sleeping there since she woke up on the floor after the Vortex Club party she can’t remember. The gross comments that keep popping up on her whiteboard don’t exactly make it feel like home, either. “I asked you. I don’t think you’re the bad influence there.”

Chloe mock-gasps. “Kate Beverly Marsh! Are you suggesting that you were a bad influence on me??”

“Maybe,” Kate teases, and this feels better. Chloe’s moods tend to turn on a dime, and Kate’s never quite sure how to handle them. They’ve only been hanging out for a couple of weeks, and although Kate’s learned to recognize Chloe’s sorrow she hasn’t learned how to comfort her. Chloe wears that hard, tough, punk persona so proudly; offering her a hug feels like it would be a transgression. But when Chloe’s joking around, Kate feels much less out of her depth. Most people don’t expect Kate to have a sense of humor - “good little church girl” that she is - but Chloe’s proven herself to be an exception. Chloe’s an exception to a lot of things. “I did ask you to help me break the rules.”

“Because you wouldn’t know how to break them on your own, goody-two-shoes,” Chloe teases with a chuckle.

“I’ll have you know I was a rule-breaker before I met you, thank you very much!”

Chloe flicks the ash from the end of her cigarette onto the damp, sandy asphalt of the beach parking lot. “Really,” she deadpans. “Kate Marsh, rule-breaker.”

“Yes.”

“Sure we’re talking about the same Kate Marsh?” She holds a hand over Kate’s head (mercifully, it’s not the one holding her still-smoldering cigarette). “‘Bout this tall? Literal human marshmallow? Goes to church every Sunday and volunteers at the soup kitchen?”

“Yes!” Kate laughs.

“Okay.” Chloe shifts her position abruptly, reclining with her shoulders propped against the wall of the truck bed and dangling one leg off the edge of the tailgate while the toes of her other dirty boot stop just shy of touching Kate’s thigh. Kate wishes she were as comfortable anywhere as Chloe seems to make herself everywhere. “There’s obviously a story here.” She gestures melodramatically with her cigarette, luminous red embers and pale blue smoke - almost the color of her eyes - against the colorless dark of the night sky. “So spill, Katydid. Illuminate me.”

In her head, Kate scrambles frantically to find something suitably rebellious to tell Chloe. She’s sure she must have done something interesting at some point in her life, but with Chloe’s eyes on her and the way that Chloe’s biting her lip as she waits she’s having a very hard time thinking about anything else. “I… Sometimes I stay up really late. All night, even.”

Chloe looks like she’s trying not to laugh. “That’s it? Kate, that’s… That’s not even breaking any rules! You’re eighteen; you can stay up as late as you want!”

“My parents are really strict about bedtimes,” Kate says a little defensively. “Right up until I moved into the dorms, they would do room checks every night to make sure my sisters and I had our lights out and were sound asleep.” A sneaky little smile tugs at her lips and she drops her voice into a conspiratorial tone. “But there was a creaky floorboard between their room and mine, so I would listen for it and then I’d pretend to be sleeping when they’d check on me. And once they were gone, I’d stay up reading or texting my friends or watching movies.” Kate can hear how boring this sounds, so she hurries to add, “Movies my parents wouldn’t let me watch. I would sneak them. Horror movies, violent stuff. Things like that.” Not only horror movies, Kate doesn’t add because she doesn’t want to tip her hand even though she knows - she knows - that Chloe likes girls, too; she hasn’t forgotten how Chloe used to look at Rachel Amber. But she suspects that Chloe never had to sneak around her mother to watch Imagine Me and You or Saving Face or - God forbid - But I’m a Cheerleader, and she’s not sure that Chloe would understand how incredibly criminal it had felt.

“Pfft! I’ve been doing that shit since I was a kid. With my old friend Max, even, and she was almost as much of a goody-two-shoes as you. Man, after we sneak-watched Jaws she wouldn’t so much as stick a toe in the bay for the rest of the summer. Total chicken.” She grins wickedly. “Nice try, though. And I’ll definitely have to remember about the horror movies. I’ve got some that’ll knock your socks off, guaranteed. So what else you got, Cup-Kate?”

Kate chews on her lower lip for a moment before blurting, “I cursed at my mother.”

Chloe actually laughs at that. “I did that this morning. And again this afternoon. I do that literally every day.”

“I called her a…” She balks. She knows that Chloe curses all the time, but somehow she just can’t make herself repeat the word even though it felt so good to say it and watch her mother’s face turn livid. “A bad name. She grounded me for a week.” Grounded is an understatement. But Chloe doesn’t need to know about Kate getting her mouth washed out with soap at the ripe age of seventeen. She doesn’t need to know that Kate’s mother took away her phone and computer as punishment and proceeded to read her most personal texts and emails before grilling her relentlessly about them until her father came home and put a stop to it. She definitely doesn’t need to know how much Kate cried and begged for forgiveness that week.

Something in Chloe’s face makes Kate feel like she knows it all anyway. “Sounds like she probably deserved whatever you called her.” Chloe nudges Kate’s thigh gently with her boot. “And hey, if you ever want someone to go call her names so vile you’ve never even dreamed of them, much less let them soil your lips, just lemme know. I’ll do it for free.”

Kate can’t hold in a giggle at Chloe’s offer. It shouldn’t be funny, she knows. But it is. She shouldn’t think Chloe’s offer is sweet, but she does.

Chloe smiles and stubs out her cigarette, which is by then burned down to the filter. She hauls herself back up into a sitting position, the toe of her boot still pressed lightly against Kate’s thigh. “Okay, so we’ve got cursing at your mother what I’m assuming is a whopping one time in your life despite the fact that she probably deserves it way more than that, and you staying up to watch horror movies past your bedtime. Not exactly sounding like a hardened criminal, there, Kate. Sounding more like a complete and utter cinnamon bun, if I’m honest.”

“I, um. I drink wine every week?” It’s a weak stab and Kate knows it, but it’s all she’s got left unless she wants to delve into much more personal territory that she’s in no way ready to talk about.

Chloe rolls her eyes. “Doesn’t count as breaking the rules if it’s literally part of church.” She wags a scolding finger. “That’s cheating.”

Kate seizes the opportunity with both hands, a victorious grin spreading across her face. “Which is breaking the rules! Ha, got you!”

Chloe scoffs. “Uh-huh. Very clever, Marsh. Still not disproving my cinnamon bun theory, though. You’re going to have to try harder to scandalize me.” There’s a lift to Chloe’s eyebrow that feels like a dare. Or maybe it only feels like a dare because Kate really, really wants it to be one.

Both of Chloe’s eyebrows shoot much higher when Kate answers her challenge by leaning in and kissing her.

Kate wants to do this forever. She wants to press harder, dig deeper. But she’s never kissed anybody before and she suspects she’d do it terribly if it were much more than a peck, and if this isn’t something Chloe actually wants then pressing would only make it worse. So she holds her lips against Chloe’s for a couple of incredible, terrifying seconds, and then she pulls away.

Chloe blinks slowly, looking dazed. Kate isn’t sure whether that’s a good sign or a bad one. “Okay, wow, that… Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“...Does that mean I can do it again?”

Chloe lets out a laugh, fragile and amazed. “Holy shit, Kate.”

Kate wants to kiss her again, but Chloe hasn’t answered her question. Her stomach twists suddenly. “Oh my God, I’m such an idiot; I’m so sorry.” She puts her palms on her flushed cheeks. They feel impossibly hot; she can’t even imagine how red they must look. “I should have asked first. I’m so sorry.”

“It… yeah, that was definitely breaking the rules. I’ll give you credit for that one.” Chloe laughs a little shakily. “Kate Marsh, rule-breaker.”

“I shouldn’t have done it; not like that. Oh, Lord, I’m no better than those… those creeps who--” Kate can feel the warm feeling kissing Chloe gave her slipping into a cold spiral that seizes her chest and pumps ice water through her veins.

“Don’t even.”

“I didn’t even ask, or warn you, or anything; I just--”

“Dude, chill. It’s fine. I liked it.”

“You’re probably still-- I shouldn’t’ve just--” Kate blinks as Chloe’s words sink in. “You liked it?”

Chloe nods. “Yeah, I mean… It took me off-guard, for sure. Asking first would’ve been better, no doubt, but it’s not like I haven’t been wanting you to kiss me for, like… a week, at least.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It was nice.” Chloe rubs the back of her neck, frowning. Her face slips back into that space Kate hasn’t learned how to navigate, the one that shows she’s thinking too hard and feeling too much. “Uncharacteristic, though.”

Kate's heart sinks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means… Hell, I don’t know. It means maybe I really am a bad influence on you. It means maybe my step-dick is right and I’m just a no good delinquent dragging you down with me.”

“Chloe Price, you are not a bad influence on me!” Kate touches her shoulder. Chloe won’t turn and look at her, so Kate touches her chin and turns her head until she has to meet her eyes. The look in Chloe’s eyes makes Kate’s heart hurt. “You’re the best possible influence on me.”

Chloe laughs again, but it’s a broken sound. Kate never wants to hear her laugh like that again. “Not fucking possible,” Chloe tells her. “You’re, like… the best person I’ve ever met. And I’m…” She waves a hand to gesture at the whole of herself.

“You’re a good person,” Kate insists. “You’ve lived through bad things, and they’ve hurt you. But you’re a good person.”

“I’m a high school dropout with no job and no prospects. I smoke, I drink, I do drugs, I swear, I spit on sidewalks, I--”

“You don’t judge me. Why should I judge you?”

“I’ve sold drugs,” Chloe plows on, “I’ve hurt people, I’ve started fights just because I was angry and I wanted to hurt someone…”

“I’m not saying that you’re perfect. I don’t expect you to be perfect. But you are a good person. And you’re a good…” Kate takes a steadying breath. “You’re a good friend. You don’t treat me like I’m some fragile little flower that’s been sheltered from the world, or like someone who needs to be sheltered from it. All my life, people have tried to control me.” Kate clasps her hands in her lap, fingers wrestling with each other anxiously. “My family, my neighbors, my church, my friends… They all expect me to act a certain way, to talk and think and feel and believe exactly the same way that they do, and they don’t care what I want. They don’t care what I think or feel or believe. But when I’m with you…” Kate feels something wet slip down her cheek and wipes at it absently. “Chloe, when I’m with you, I can be who I want to be. I can be me. I can break the rules I want to break and follow the rules I want to follow and you don’t judge me either way. You make me feel alive. You make me want to be alive.”

Kate’s fully crying now, so it takes her a minute to realize that Chloe’s crying, too.

“Shit,” Chloe says, and she’s half-laughing as she cries. “Shit, shit.” She mops at her face. “You, I… Fuck, I can’t even… Shit, Kate! You’re… you’re fucking perfect. Jesus.”

Kate wants to correct her: Chloe is the one who’s perfect. She’s a perfect mess with her tangled blue hair and the dark circles beneath her eyes, her chipped nail polish and chapped lips and bony elbows and scarred forearms. Her stained clothes, her dirty boots, her bra strap slipping down her shoulder, the stink of cigarettes hanging around her in a constant fug. Her mascara running with her tears, the way she’s smiling through them and looking at Kate like she’s some kind of miracle. She’s perfect, and Kate wants to kiss her again. She wants to press the knowledge of how perfect Chloe is into her flesh with her lips so that she believes it.

But they’re both still crying, and the moment just doesn’t feel right. So instead Kate asks a question she’s been wanting to ask since they met: “May I give you a hug?”

Chloe nods rapidly, and her smile brightens. “You’d fucking better.” She opens her arms, and she welcomes Kate home.

#prompt fic #prompt fill #this prompt was not so prompt #fanfic #my writing #ghost writes #prompt ghost #life is strange #pricemarsh #chloe price #kate marsh

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thesixthstar · 3 years

Note

Primes, character(s) of your choice

I'm gonna answer these for whichever character(s) I have the most interesting/relevant answers for:

2. Do they consider themselves an optimist? Pessimist? Realist? What are they like in actuality?

Nydra (drow moon cleric) is optimistic pretty much as part of her religion/is part of her religion because she is optimistic. She wants to believe the best of everyone and give everyone as many second chances as is practially possible

3. How do they carry themselves around strangers? Friends/Lovers? Family?

I'm not the *best* at roleplaying personalities vastly different from my own, so most of my characters, when they're around friends act as silly and rambly as I tend to be around my own friends. The main exception to this is HILDA (pissed off robot), who is the most different-from-myself character I've ever played, despite falling very firmly into the universal law of "DND is about projection". She is extraordinarily blunt, and always says things with as few words as possible. She's not comfortable with many people, but with those people, she's way more willing and able to admit she's not 100% confident and correct in her life philosophy, as opposed to the rest of the time, where she's not willing to entertain the idea that someone else might be right....

5. How does your character express they’re comfortable?

Leanora (chaotic stupid rogue) stops trying to impress people when she's comfortable. This is when all her worst ideas get to see the light of day.

7. How impulsive is your character?

As mentioned a moment ago, Leanora is a factory of the worst ideas you could possibly imagine. She doesn't just do stupid things without consulting the party usually (bc that can be a very un-fun table dynamic) but this is the character who goes to the local magic school, and buys the student's not-quite-right-but-not-disastrously-failed potions homework. This has resulted in hilarity and messes and she's been turned to stone by one of them.

11. How does your character blow off steam?

HILDA is definitely the character with the most steam to blow off, being filled with existential dread and rage at all times as she is. While she is in denial about a lot of it, you can really see a lot of that being expressed in incredible violence! There's a lot of grenades to be thrown, and a lot of uhhhhh needless cruelty in how she deals with organic life forms.

M'artha Stu'art, another half elf rogue, whose character concept is "housewife who finally fucking lost it and ran off to become an adventurer" also likes to indulge in violence, but also she does a lot of stress baking! Luckily her campaign setting involves a lot of access to ovens, so a lot of times she'll provide the party with delicious pies and cookies.

13. If they were a body of water, what would they be?

Nydra would be a lake, I think.

17. Does your character swear? What’s their favorite phrase/word?

Leanora has lots of reasons to go "oh sit. fuckfuckfuck noooooo" a lot.

19. How does your character act when they want to seem threatening?

HILDA goes with brute violence and a lot of looming over people. The rest of my characters tend go for leverage rather than "threats of bodily harm" when they need to intimidate, partly because I don't tend to play beefy lads (or beefy non lads).

23. Would your character want to be famous? Why or why not?

The only character I have that might want to be famous is my recently-created tiefling bard, Disco.

29. What does your character have too much of?

HILDA canonically has an endless supply of grenades. This may be too many.

31. Can your character visualize actual concepts in their head? Or are they just vague thoughts?

I personally really struggle to literally visualize images, and can't relate to people who can, so all my characters are like that too lol

37. What are some ways your character acts silly?

Leanora is trying to establish folklore about a minor god(dess) of soup. Any time the party is sleeping at an inn, she'll "spread the good word", especially if the inn serves a really good soup or stew.

Mercy (idiot Changeling sorcerer traveling with an evil party) will prank the warlock, by placing little toy spiders everywhere

41. What’s a texture/sound your character cannot stand?

I have misophonia and therefore so do all my characters. Disco hates anything dirty or slimy.

43. Is your character good at apologizing? Why or why not?

HILDA will never admit she has done anything wrong. Ever. Leanora will nope right out of the consequences of her actions mostly (or try to solve them by usually making a bigger problem).

Nydra can get a little single-track-mind, and when she realizes this in retrospect, she's usually OK about apologizing.

47. Do they consider themselves funny? How do they use humor?

Leanora truly uses humor as a defense mechanism. This is because DND Is About Projecting.

HILDA usually claims that humor is a stupid things that humans do, but when she occasionally has a zinger to contribute, she considers herself a comedic genius.

53. What does freedom mean to them?

One of Leanora's base ideals is freedom, in the sense of not letting anyone tell you jack shit about yourself. Her backstory is not Full Tragedy, but it involves a lot of her mentor and her social circle kind of telling her "this is how the world is, and this is how you need to act to live in it, and the fact that you're here means you're this kind of person", and the reason she's an adventurer is to prove to herself that it isn't true.

59. What’s something your character has realized?

We stopped playing this campaign shortly before HILDA actually realized this, but she was about to realize that, not only is gender fake even in general, but she's literally a robot and it doesn't even make sense for her to have a gender, she was just programmed with "female" as part of the concept of her existence. Her name is also uhhh, not a name. Its an acronym that stands for Household Integrated Live-in Domestic Assistant, and there are millions of HILDA units out there. The realization that she doesn't even have a name just a designated label, its like a toaster coming to life and continuing to just be called "toaster". The realization that she had been using a human designation that quite literally objectifies her, and the idea that this weird notion of gender had been foisted upon her without any input of her own and she had just gone with it without questioning that until now. That realization was gonna be a doozy.

I did not intend for HILDA to be this, but she accidentally became a way for me to look at my own agender feels. I really wish I had gotten to play more of that campaign for a number of reasons, but this is one of em. I also did a little bit of Agender Feels with Mercy the changeling sorcerer, but its less intrinsic to her character.

61. Who do they go to when they’ve had a nightmare?

It's cliche, but Nydra prays. Lately, though, the moon might be Fake, so she's not sure really where to go with things like that at the moment.

67. Selflessness or Self-Preservation?

Nydra is all about selflessness, and kind of struggles when she has to think of herself first, even when it means she's preserving herself so she can do More Good later. she's the asshole in the trolley problem who throws herself in front of the trolley to stop it, though she knows thats kind of also a flaw a lot of the time.

HILDA and Mercy are 100% self preservation, and M'artha is like 65% self preservation at least.

Leanora is very "por que no los dos" about everything, and tries to loophole her way into a Both answer whenever possible.

#tag #ask #ask meme

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ivyprism · 3 years

Text

The Mentors and the Apprentices (OCs)

Isabella - The Younger Sister and a Sweetheart.

Age: Unknown (Ageless, but younger than Prism, Ian, and Ivy.)

Personality: A figurative angel walking on Earth. She is far too good for this cruel world, and she is completely unaware of it. She is fantastic with children, and most people refer to her as the "perfect wife" and "perfect mother," even though she usually dismisses them and thanks to them for the compliments. She is genuinely affectionate, loving, and caring. She is empathetic and she gives warm hugs. She's nice to everyone and everything. She has an innate affinity for animals.

She assists her sisters and brother when they are in need of comfort, and she can get along with ANYONE, and I mean ANYONE. A child who bullies others and can't help himself because he doesn't know any better? They will apologize to the kid they are bullying and offer to do anything to make up for it if she asks them to. A ferocious and injured dog? They're going to be her pet no matter what. She makes no attempt to persuade them to like her! She's just genuinely nice, and she's very loving. The sad thing is that most people take advantage of her, and she usually doesn't realize it until her depression and anxiety symptoms worsen when she's with someone. She sometimes hates herself for being so gullible. (Not to mention her sense of humor is immaculate.)

Appearance: Here she is~!

https://picrew.me/image_maker/1055649/complete?cd=ZxD1FeBocV

Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Fzy5yoFZSU&ab_channel=Derivakat

Additional Facts:

When she was a teenager, she had fallen into the wrong crowd and nearly didn't graduate because of an addiction formed from it. (She's been clean for a long time since rehab.)

She loves her siblings but is terrified of seeing them because of how far they've progressed.

She has multiple jobs. She owns a cafe, animal shelter, and she works as a doctor. She knows how to balance them.

She went to medical school.

She loves playing video games and dancing.

She plays the violin and the clarinet, but she sometimes hesitates with the violin for backstory reasons.

She's bisexual.

She does want to have children of her own but is scared to due to the chance to pass down her depression and anxiety (not to mention her chance to pass an addictive personality down. But no children is not a deal breaker for her).

She is a sucker for puppy dog eyes.

She has a student who can transform from an animal to a human. Ume's apprentice is a close friend, and Ume often protects her because they are mentor and apprentice.

She can't handle the scent of strong glue because she doesn't want to relapse after so many years of sobriety.

She has a mild form of PTSD, usually can't handle the sound of gunshots or when a knife is thrown. She will have her service cat, Molly, help her.

She's a half-goat monster.

Her SOUL is pure KINDNESS with a few cracks around the edges.

Ume - Isabella's Apprentice and an Orphan

Age: 15. (Ageless, but they love their mentor a lot and IS younger than their mentor.)

Personality: They're a conceited little shit. They idolize their mentor and will pretend to be much younger than they are. They take advantage of their attractiveness to get what they want. They appear innocent and sweet to their mentor as if they are an angel to her, but to their mentor's partners, they are evil and mischievous. They embody chaos, and they're not afraid to show it. They only pause when their mentor instructs them to, and it is only a temporary truce. If their mentor's significant other can get on their good side, they'll be much nicer and only pull pranks on occasion. They're an actor, and they're really good at lying... to everyone except to Isabella and Fox. They're also cruel to some people.

If you get really close to them, they'll drop the mask and be really sweet and caring. After all, they are Isabella's apprentice. They simply want to be understood. They break down their defenses and reveal a lot of information to them. Like what they've done, why they're this way, and why they desperately want help but are too afraid to ask for it.

Appearance: https://picrew.me/image_maker/75534/complete?cd=v9cwm0XMEa

Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5Z7dOG9SuM&ab_channel=LeeandLieLeeandLieVerified

Additional Facts:

They prefer feminine pronouns and they/them.

They're best friends with Fox and have actually hurt people to protect Fox.

Fox is the only one in their class to be brave enough to approach her aunt's apprentice.

They are enemies with Kasie and Kassidy.

They feel like they're beyond help and have killed people before to protect their mentor and their mentor's family (not that Isabella knew). They're not proud of themselves.

They are very good at hiding their problems from their mentor, but their mentor found out and they're going to therapy, but they don't take it seriously.

They're a half-bird monster (and can turn into a bird.)

They have feelings for Fox and Fox has feelings for them, but they're both too chicken to admit their feelings.

Their SOUL is a corrupted version of KINDNESS (CRUELTY) with a sub trait of pure INTEGRITY.

They are very protective of Fox but refuse to acknowledge their feelings. They're a murderer, for goodness sake! (...They don't know about Prism and Ace.)

They also have a complicated relationship with Prism.

They're pansexual.

They have a target on their head because they fell, briefly, into a bad crowd.

Their mentor has no idea what they've done.

Tsubaki - Isabella's Best Friend and the Younger Sister of Camari.

Age: Unknown (Ageless, younger than Omari, Camari, and Utau.)

Personality: She's gentle and serene. She has a saintly temper and usually settles disputes with words. She dislikes fighting and has a complicated relationship with Ume. Unless she's talking to Isabella, she tells it like it is. She has had her differences with Prism so she tolerates her, but she dislikes the fact that her sisters would willingly risk their lives to help Prism. She expresses her displeasure with Butch and Boss when she meets them. She doesn't have anything against the mafia, she just finds them unlikeable and loud. She is very protective of her family and isn't afraid to show it.

Appearance: Here she is.

Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5JqY-6q-RNA&ab_channel=KerryPaulazzoKerryPaulazzo

Additional Facts:

She is at odds with Prism for unknown reasons.

She expresses her dislike of Ume and Ume doesn't like her, so it's mutual.

She is an aromantic asexual

She doesn't want children.

She doesn't fall for puppy dog eyes.

She's half-skeleton.

Her SOUL is INTEGRITY.

She has an apprentice named Phoenix. Their relationship is complicated, to say the least.

She's not all that interesting if you ignore her history with the mafia and how she's an ex-mafia member.

Phoenix - Tsubaki's Apprentice and Ume's sister

Age: 17. (Ageless, half-monster)

Personality: Cold, calculated, and hot-tempered. She despises her mentor and finds Tsubaki annoying. She does, grudgingly, love Tsubaki and has a great deal of respect for her. She's hot-tempered and a mess. She is constantly picking fights and returns home covered in bruises and cuts. If someone bothers her about her fighting, she will snarl that she's "fine." She is the one who shields her sibling from the bad company they have fallen into. To protect her sibling, she would gladly join the mafia. She completely accepts responsibility for her sister's constant danger. Tsubaki is "whipping" her into shape and would dump her onto MY Edge's doorstep for an attitude adjustment. She fights for equal rights and is not kind to those who DARE hurt her family.

Appearance: https://picrew.me/image_maker/75534/complete?cd=I6oA5MeAF5

Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jP_uUkBfCM4&ab_channel=SkilletLyrics

Additional Facts:

She is working as Tsubaki's apprentice as a community service.

She hates working for Tsubaki and only avoids committing crimes for her sibling.

She still fights viciously and has taken down an entire gang who fucked with her.

She's a half-bird monster (can turn into a bird.)

She would say to anyone who tries to mess with her and has her in a bind "You can take my heart, you can take my breath, when YOU PRY IT FROM MY COLD. DEAD. CHEST."

If she were to join the mafia, she'd be a fighter and a goon. She has and can kill someone.

She prefers being single for safety reasons.

Her SOUL trait is corrupted PERSEVERANCE (INFLEXIBILITY) with a sub trait of pure JUSTICE.

She is bisexual.

She is immune to puppy dog eyes.

She has a lot of respect for the mafia and Prism.

She can beat Kassidy and Kasie in a fight.

She is in anger management while settling with therapy.

Yep! There ya go!

#yep #more ocs #lots of t'em #sweet af oc #her chaotic apprentice #angry babs #fox and Ume are in love #but too chicken to admit it #apprentices and mentors

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katrandomwrites · 5 years

Text

Wierdly Human

Alternate title was "Jon the Archivist is Kinda Hot"

Little in between snippets from the assistants and their impressions of Jonathan Sims.

I declare this a fluff and humor only zone! Episode 160 can kiss my butt.

You can also find this on AO3 under the same title.

I got the inspiration for this from a tumblr post about Jon being a clean boy despite crawling through hell and back but I think the writer deleted it because I spent forever looking for it and couldn't find it :n: Also 2 Drink Jon is a reference to 2 other fics I've read so his wild ass is not mine.

Supplemental Headcanons at the end.

Pre-Show

There was somebody new at the Institute.

He was short and dark with black hair neatly trimmed and styled. A pair of browline glasses perched in front of wide brown eyes that seemed to absorb everything around him.

“Hey, uh, Tim,” Martin whispered as he leaned over to where his coworker was digging through a drawer, “Who’s that?”

“Hm?” Tim’s eyes widened as he looked up, “Oh shit, he’s cute.”

“Not helpful, Tim.”

“Um, I think he might be Daniel’s replacement. I think his name is Joe or something,” Tim swallowed, “I wonder what modeling agency Bouchard raided for him.”

Martin elbowed him in the ribs hard, his face going as red as his hair, “Shut up!”

“But look at him, Martin! He has to have a skincare routine an hour long and don’t tell me you didn’t notice that those trousers are bloody tailored. I see you looking at his arse!”

“SHUT UP!”

”What are you two fighting about now?”

Both researchers jumped away from each other as Sasha popped up behind them.

“Hot new guy,” Tim said, earning another jab and a hiss.

Sasha looked at Martin and grinned, “Short, scrawny, Persian, and angry?”

“He’s Persian?” Martin stuttered before slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Yeah, I got to talk to him during his follow up interview. Smart guy but kind of grumpy and super awkward. We got talking about foriegn food and he offered to give me his grandma’s recipe for chelow kababs,” Sasha said.

“What’s his name.” Tim asked, looking back at where the new guy was glaring at a row of filing cabinets with several drawers ajar.

“Jonathan Sims.”

Pre Episode 44

Basira watched as Sims limped away with the tape clutched to his chest like a lifeline before sighing and heading out to the car where Daisy was waiting.

“Well?” Daisy asked, “How’s our favorite murderer?”

Basira swatted her feet off the dash, “He looks like he hasn’t slept in 3 weeks and recently got hit by a car.”

“I wasn’t asking about his nasty, worm-eaten face, Basira,” Daisy said, “Does he know we’re watching him?”

“I don’t think so -put your seatbelt on- it seems like he’s more invested in what’s on those tapes for now. I get the feeling he’s more worried about watching the people he works with than us.”

“What a sad little librarian. I’m looking forward to how he managed to kill Robinsen without getting his ass whipped.”

“She was old.”

“Yeah, but Sims looks like he’d get knocked out by a light breeze even before he got munched on by some nasty fucking bugs. Did you see the surveillance from Robinsen’s initial investigation? I went back through to track Sims and watched him struggle move a box that was in front of a filing cabinet for a solid twenty minutes; the big ginger guy had to move it for him.”

“That’s-” Basira snorted, “That’s pathetic.”

Daisy grinned, “He has to be one manipulative bastard to get anything done.”

“Is that your theory?”

“I mean look at you.”

“What about me?”

“He gives you the puppy eyes once and now you’re smuggling him tapes from the evidence locker? I have never known the great Basira Hussain to ever cave to a suspect’s wishes in my life- and don’t say it’s to keep a closer eye on him. We have less illegal tactics for that.”

Basira opened her mouth to argue but found that Daisy had a point. She really only gave into suspects if the circumstances were dire. This was technically classed as a low priority case.

What was going on here?

Post Episode 76

Melanie flopped dramatically onto Georgie's couch and let out a long winded sigh.

"Oh?" Georgie asked from the kitchen door.

Melanie sat up slightly to let her sit down before plopping her head down on Georgie's thigh, "I had to go talk to Sims at the Institute again."

"How's Jon?"

"A fucking bastard is what he is."

"Well I knew that," Georgie laughed, gently beginning to brush through Melanie's hair with her fingers.

"I don't know, he's was wierdly defensive and I think he was trying to gaslight me about one of his new assistants."

Georgie paused her brushing, "I haven't seen Jon in a while but that seems… out of character for him. He's a grump, sure, but I've never known him to be a bully -on purpose that is."

"Yeah, well…"

The pair lapsed into a tense silence.

"Would it make you feel better if I show you a picture of Jon in university that he is very embarrassed about," Georgie ventured after a few minutes, "He's still mad I have it.~"

Melanie twisted her head back and grinned, instantly breaking the tension and sitting up to look at the phone screen presented to her.

On it was a picture of Jon passed out, mouth wide open and drooling, on the ugliest couch she'd ever seen.

"He still owns that couch by the way," Georgie said. Melanie waved a hand in her face to silence her as she took in the details.

Jon was in a pink crop top that Melanie was sure she'd seen in Georgie's closet, union jack boxers, gladiator sandals, and The Admiral was planted square on his chest, though he was about half the size of the fluffball that roamed the flat now. Surrounding them where piles of papers and books on the paranormal.

Melanie began to cackle.

"Our friend group used to call him '2 Drink Jon' and this was after he'd done four shots in the kitchen and decided to lecture us on how ghosts are bullshit and he could beat one in a fist fight," Georgie elaborated, "I'm still not sure when he ended up in that outfit but honestly, if we had recorded his rant he probably could have used it for his Masters thesis."

Melanie wheezed into her shoulder as tears began to stream down her face.

"2 Drink Jon was actually a lot more charismatic than sober Jon. This one time he almost had us convinced that he could talk to plants after two gin and tonics, granted we were also drunk but-,"

"Stop, please," Melanie wheezed, "I'm dying."

"Gosh, one of these days I'll have to tell you about tequila and the alien conspiracy. Randall could almost recite the whole speech from memory."

Melanie fell off the couch.

Post Episode 109

Julia and Trevor exchanged a look as the Archivist powered through the spiciest Thai food they could find without even breaking a sweat.

It was supposed to be a joke, spiking Jon's food, the cashier had even given them a panicked look at the restaurant and Trevor's eyes had been watering the whole way back to the safe house. They'd even waited by the door in case Jon tried to make a break for the case of water bottles in the car but he just unwrapped the plastic fork and dug in without even asking for a drink.

Julia picked at her own food but couldn't quite manage to eat it and glanced back at Jon, "Are you sure you don't need a water or anything?"

Jon looked up for a moment, his eyes were more alive than they had been all day and practically sparkled in the shitty fluorescent light. He shook his head and instead reached for another packet of chili sauce to add to his food.

"What the hell is he," Trevor whispered to Julia in horror.

"I don't know but he's definitely not normal."

During Episode 132

Daisy had misjudged Jon. She'd grossly misjudged him.

She flexed her fingers around his, ignoring the way the sand dug into her skin, and gently pulled him closer. The man she'd called prey gave her a soft smile and compiled, pressing against her side like she'd never held a knife to his throat, like she hadn't just admitted to planning his murder before she was trapped here.

Daisy turned her head awkwardly and dug her face into his shoulder savoring the human contact, her tears soaking into his shirt.

The Hunt in her blood tried to sing, tried to fight the Buried, "Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect", it echoed faintly.

Jon said something and began to move, pulling Daisy forward along with him.

"Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect"

Hours past as they shimmied through the coffin, the pain of being scraped and crushed was overpowered by the sheer ecstasy of moving more than an inch every few days.

"Safe, Mine, Pack, Protect"

There was a door, Jon tucked himself under her arm and pulled her up the stairs to the blinding lights of the institute. She ducked her head down to his shoulder again and grimaced as her joints popped and groaned.

"Jon, you stupid idiot! What did you think-"

Daisy looked up to the person she thought she’d never see again and smiled.

"Hi."

Post Episode 132

Martin had horrible timing really. He just needed to pee, was that really too much to ask?

Of course it was. The universe hated him.

So instead of slipping into the private bathroom upstairs which was magically broken, he had to go down a level and walk in on Jon shaking dirt out of his clothes.

Martin was going to die here but at least he'd die happy.

Jon didn't even seem to register that someone else had joined him (thank the Lonely) so Martin took a second to sneak a guilty look before darting back out and hiding for 40 years.

Jon was painfully thin. Martin got the idea that he could count every vertebrae and rib if he was allowed and even at a glance he could spot the sunken area where at least one rib was now missing.

Worm scars and burns were peppered up his back along with a few moles and freckles. Little red marks circled his chest in a way that Martin immediately recognized as being from the black fabric crumpled at Jon's feet.

And to top it all off, much to Martin's delight, were a set of three black gears tattooed down Jon's right shoulder blade. Sasha had mentioned once that she had gone out for drinks with Jon when he first started and they'd managed to get on the topic of tattoos. Tim had spent months trying to get Jon to show it to him before 'giving up'.

Martin stepped out and stood in the hall for a moment, red faced and giddy, before stumbling off in search of another bathroom.

Somewhere between Episode 132-154

"Hey, guys?" Melanie called.

Daisy and Basira glanced up to see Melanie holding a giant plate of the best smelling food they'd seen in weeks. Steam wafted up into her very confused face.

"Did either of you make this? I went to ask Martin and I can't find him."

"I didn't make it," Basira said, "Daisy?"

"I once made spaghetti and lit it on fire.

Basira grimaced and walked up to Melanie, "Kebabs, Tahdig rice, flat bread, and jam cookies. Those are Iranian dishes, or Middle Eastern at least.”

Daisy looked at Basira, "How do you know that?"

"Took a foreign cuisine course focused on middle eastern food a few years ago," Basira said as she made her way to the kitchen area with the group in tow.

Sitting on the table were three more huge plates of food and two empty plates sitting in the sink. Martin was standing next to the table with pure confusion on his face.

"Did you make this?"

Martin jumped and looked at the group, "Uh, no? I really only do pastas… this is a little outside my skill set. I think-"

"It could be a trap," Daisy interrupted, "Maybe it's laced with something?"

"No, I'm pretty sure-"

"Could be, but who would go to this effort, the Web?" Basira said.

"Guys, it was probably-"

"It was the Archivist!" Helen exclaimed from behind them, somehow having opened her door without making a sound and scaring the shit out of them, "He is an excellent cook."

"Bullshit," Melanie wheezed, setting her plate down before she dropped it.

"No, she right," Martin sighed, "Jon actually cooked something similar a few years ago for a company thing. He gave this whole speech about how grandparents immigrated here from Iran, well Persia at the time, and his grandma made him learn to cook what she called 'real food'."

"You mean to tell me that Jonathan Sims, the skinniest guy I have ever met, can cook like this," Basira said in disbelief before cautiously sitting down at the table with the rest following suit.

"He called it his grandmother's curse," Helen provided cheerfully, "He said that no matter what he does, he always makes far more than he needs and never has people around to give it to. So he just never cooks."

"You talked to him?" Melanie asked. Daisy began to pick at a plate and made a sound of confusion and delight at the taste.

"Oh yes, he even let me help by getting things off high shelves!"

"This is amazing," Daisy said in disbelief before grabbing a fork and beginning to eat in earnest.

"It is! Jon and I had a lovely chat and I'm not much for 'real' food these days but he really convinced me!" Helen declared, spinning back around to re enter her door, "And I must say it was delightful."

"Huh," Basira shrugged and began to eat.

Not bad.

Post Episode 159

For the second time since he woke up, Martin pinched himself. He had to be dreaming, the smaller body smooshed up against his chest and the boney limbs clinging to him had to be a figment of his imagination.

Jon huffed in his sleep and burrowed deeper into Martin before settling again. A few stray rays of the morning sun slipped through the blinds highlighting Jon’s gray hairs and the raised edges of scars that trailed along his skin.

Gently, Martin carded his hand through the wild mess of hair, marveling at how soft it was despite everything. Jon sighed, leaning into the touch without stirring.

He could stay like this forever, with Jon safe in his arms and the dangers of the world outside, away from his happiness.

"Wha' time?" Jon mumbled, stretching before re-draping himself over Martin. He looked up and the light caught his eyes in a way that Martin could see all the blue heterochromatic spots in Jon's left eye through dark, heavy lashes.

"Doesn't matter," Martin whispered as he pulled him closer, "We have all the time in the world."

Supplemental Headcanons: - Jon is a 3rd gen Persian/Iranian immigrant. His grandparents on his dad's side moved to England post WWII. (Persia became Iran in 1979) They took the last name Sims during immigration. - His mother was full blooded English. - He can out cook 87% of the local grandma's when he really gets into it - He built an unnaturally high tolerance to salt and spice as a kid to keep people from taking his lunch or trying to mess with his food and now thoroughly enjoys spicy foods. - Jon does care a lot but his grandma never taught him to show it in any other way but tolerance and mute acceptance. It's hard to know where you stand with Jon because of this. - Was a runner while in school. - Was forced to take violin lessons as a kid and Georgie taught him some piano in University. - Jon is and always has been feral little man though he is more bark than bite (unless he's under the influence of something). He learned it from his grandma. - He's one of those drunks that often wanders/ runs away from his drinking group. He has strong drunk college girl tendencies. - He changed his middle name to Ulysses when he got his first name legally changed because he’s a nerd. - Jon has had the same pen pal since he was 10. They are one of the few points of normalcy he has left. - Jon and Daisy are trans mlm and wlw solidarity. Fight me.

Fun Fact: Sims means "the Listener" which seems almost too on the nose.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #jon sims #martin blackwood #daisy tonner #basira hussain #melanie king #georgie barker #my writing #fanfiction #jonmartin #spoilers #dasira #what the girlfriends

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