#every time i see a new page of this i get estatic !!!!!!!
Text
Beating Recession
Recession sucked, that much was clear to Logan even before he checked his email inbox. When he saw a few replies to his job applications from the last days, he sighed. He didn't need to open the mails to know that the news was bad, but he did so anyway.
"We regret to inform you..." - Logan didn't even read on. He had lost his job as an apprentice electrician about half a year ago. The company was going under, and Logan, the youngest and least experienced worker, was the first to go. That's how it was in this business. Since then, he had applied to every single position that came up - but apparently, the current economic situation was so bad that nobody needed another worker.
Logan had hoped that his apprenticeship would get him a job, but the fact that he was only 20 and had not much practical experience hurt him. Slowly, money was becoming a pretty big problem. Whatever savings he had (for some real estate of his own! As if that was going to happen!) had melted away over the last months. His rent was due, and he had no income.
In fact, he was one month late with his rent already, and although his landlord had been cool about it, Logan did not see how he would be able to keep his apartment. He really, really wanted to avoid moving back in with his parents who had their own problems, too.
So, what was he going to do? There wasn't much more to do than keep looking for a job, even though his chances were slim.
He opened LinkedOut and looked for openings, just as he had done multiple times before this week. The sparse list of jobs had not changed, so Logan scrolled on.
He was about to give up again when a listing caught his eye.
"Escape unemployment today! Change™ job agency will find the perfect job, for the perfect you. Apply here!"
He had heard of such agencies before, and the results were not pretty. Usually, they just took the applicants' data and sold it on. They would claim to have found a job for you, but it usually wouldn't work out, and the applicant would have paid money for this useless service. Still, Logan was curious enough to click the link. If they wanted money, he would back out immediately - it was not like he had any to spare.
To Logan's big surprise, when he clicked the link, a new page opened, with a web-based chat interface. Before he could close the tab again, there was already a message in the window. It read:
"Kevin: Hey, and welcome to the Change™ job agency. My name is Kevin. How may I help you today?"
It was a nice surprise that they didn't try to sell him anything or even ask for his data before he had entered the website. Well, no harm done. He might as well give them a try. Hesitating slightly, Logan's fingers hovered over the keyboard before he typed:
"Hi. I'm Logan and I'm looking for a new job."
The answer came quickly, but not so quickly that Logan would suspect the other person to be a chatbot. After some moments, Kevin's reply appeared on the screen:
"Great. What kind of job are you looking for? And what kind of salary are we talking?"
Logan considered the questions. This was probably the point where they would ask him for his data. He silently cursed his excessive caution. Of course, they had to ask these questions. How else should they offer him anything?
"Uhm. My last job was as an apprentice electrician, but at this point I would be pretty happy about just any job. The salary should be high enough to pay my rent."
Logan hesitated before hitting enter. He didn't want to come over as quite so desperate, but the truth was, he was.
"Okay, no problem. Do you have a preferred working sector?"
What a weird question. Why did it matter what industry he preferred?
"Uhm, not really. I guess anything is fine."
"Very well. Before I look up what's there in our database, I would need some basic information about you. Namely gender, age, ethnicity and sexual orientation."
"Wait. What does my sexual orientation have to do with a job? Besides, why do you need to know my ethnicity? Is this even legal?"
Logan had typed furiously and pressed enter before thinking about his reply.
"I understand your confusion. We here at the Change™ job agency strive to find not only a job, but the best job for the best you, so we need to know what we're working with. It wouldn't be very appropriate to apply a person as an actress who is really good at sports, now would it? Of course, you have to understand that your answers are confidential and will not be disclosed to any third parties, especially not your future employer."
That was fishy deluxe. Logan really didn't want to feed some unknown job agency all that highly personal information. On the other hand,... what did he have to lose?
"Well, I guess it can't hurt. Uhm. I'm a male, 20 years old, I would call myself white and I'm heterosexual."
"Wonderful. One last question: Are you comfortable with nudity and public sexual activities?"
"Wait, WHAT? I mean, uhm, sure, I guess? I mean, why should I need that?"
"This question is purely to determine if we should also have a look in the adult entertainment section of our job offerings. Alright Logan, please stand by while I enter your data into our search engine."
Logan leaned back. He felt a bit uneasy about all that. But it was not like his answers could lead them directly to his apartment, so he felt relatively safe.
A minute or so passed, and Logan started to think that he had been tricked after all, but just as he was about to close the tab, a new message appeared.
"Sorry for the delay, I had a few calls. We found two jobs that could be a fit. The first one is an office job in a big insurance company. To be honest, it's not that good of a fit and it doesn't pay very well either."
"That's fine." Logan wrote. He was incredibly on edge now. Could it really be so easy to find a new job? And he even had a choice?
"What's the other one?" he added to his previous message.
"Okay, the other job is a bit more unconventional, but we have the feeling it could be a great match. It's an actor position in the porn industry, at the famous XXX Incorporated."
"Porn? What? Are you serious? I mean, I don't have anything against porn or nudity or whatever, but I'm not sure if this is the kind of job I want."
Logan felt mixed feelings. The prospect of being some office drone sounded pretty uninteresting and a low pay wasn't all that good either. But a porn actor? Logan had to admit, the thought felt somewhat interesting, but he doubted he had what it took for that? Weren't porn stars famously hung and well-built? That was certainly not Logan. Just as he pondered those thoughts, Kevin's answer appeared:
"I understand Sir. So, should we continue with the first job opening then?"
Logan bit his lip, but the curiosity got the better of him.
"Wait. What does the second job entail? I mean, I'm not exactly... equipped for the porn business."
"Well, as I have said: It's an actor position, so you would star in some new adult entertainment productions. While I understand your modesty, our records show that you are more than adequately gifted for this kind of job."
Logan felt confused. He absentmindedly scratched his crotch before he replied:
"Uhm, sorry, I don't think you understand. I don't really think my..." Logan paused. Was he really going to write that? It was embarrassing, but at least he could be reasonably sure he would never meet this Kevin in real life. So, he continued:
"... penis is big enough for such a position."
The answer came promptly.
"Really? Better have a look to be sure ;-)"
A winking smiley? That wasn't very professional. Actually, the whole sentence wasn't. Still, Logan couldn't stop himself from glancing at his crotch. What he saw made him take a double take. His soft cock was forming a visible and ample bulge in his jeans. Logan knew that he was slightly smaller than average, so that was ridiculous. It was almost a... a porn star-sized bulge!
He stared at his package, but it wasn't growing any smaller. With trembling hands, he opened his jeans. Immediately, a well-filled pair of boxers escaped the confinement of his jeans. The dick print of his soft member was clearly visible in his underwear, and it wasn't just much bigger than Logan remembered. It was among the biggest bulges he had ever seen in his life!
His hands explored the impressive manhood through his underwear and felt every centimeter of the hardening dick. He had no idea what had caused this growth, but he wasn't complaining. Before he could interact more with it, however, he noticed another message on the screen.
"Are you still there, Sir?"
"Sorry, yes." Logan hurried to reply. What was he going to write? "I was below average just a few moments ago but now I have one of the biggest cocks in human history"?
Instead, Kevin answered.
"Good! I trust you had a chance to inspect your assets?"
"Uhm, yes."
"So, have you made up your mind, or should I look into the office position?"
Logan was torn. He wasn't sure what he had seen just a moment ago. Still, his enormous cock that was half-hard in his boxers was there, undeniably.
"Let's go with the porn star position." Logan finally typed, and his heart was racing.
"Very good! Now, as I mentioned, the position is in the adult entertainment sector. Do you know the company XXX Incorporated?"
Logan thought quickly about it before replying: "No, sorry, never heard of them."
"That is not at all surprising, since they specialize in the adult sector for homosexual men. According to your data, you identify as heterosexual. I hope that won't be a problem?"
Of course, there was a catch. Logan had heard about these gay for pay people and he hesitated yet again. They paid well, supposedly, but...
"Uhm. Would that mean I would need to be on the receiving end?" He wasn't too close-minded and could imagine kissing another man if he had to, perhaps even receiving a blow job from one. But having another person fuck him in the ass? No, that was way beyond his comfort zone.
"I believe the technical term you are looking for is 'to bottom'." Kevin replied, and added another message shortly after:
"But the company is, in fact, looking for a 'top' actor. They put it like this: 'We are looking for a well-built top for our new productions.'"
Logan was relieved. While he was a gold star gay man (why did he put 'heterosexual'? That was utter bullshit!), he was a strict top. This position sounded better and better. Still, one thing raised some new doubts.
"Hold on. I'm hung like a horse, but I wouldn't say I'm very muscular or even fit. I'm not much of a gym goer."
"Are you sure ;-)?"
Again, with the winking smiley! Kevin sounded so very professional most of the time, but then there were these messages. Logan scratched the back of his shoulder with some effort. Whenever he raised his arms so high the mountains of muscle on his upper arms danced and made it difficult to reach his back. Logan suddenly realized that something had changed - again! His shirt strained against his muscular chest, and as he lifted his shirt, he could see some cobblestone abs on an otherwise flat stomach. His calves had become thicker and strong. His jeans, which had felt slightly loose earlier, now seemed to be getting tighter.
Logan had never been very athletic. His body was lean, but not fit or muscular. That had certainly changed. When he looked at himself, he hardly recognized himself anymore. A huge dick, and a studly body.
Logan shook his head and let the shirt fall again. Whatever was going on, it was not a bad thing, was it?
"Alright, so I'm a buff top with a big cock. Is there anything else?" he smiled as he wrote that.
"Actually, there is one further requirement, but given your cooperation so far I don't believe it will be much of a problem either." Kevin replied, in his professional tone again.
"And what would that be?" Logan was intrigued.
"The company is especially looking for a, and I cite, 'huge, dominant Black top with large dick. Intellectual capabilities are not required'. Are you feeling up to that task? ;-)"
This time, Logan immediately raised his shirt to watch his body change. As soon as he read the words, his skin began darkening, first a golden bronze and then a rich black. It was a gradual change but happened very quickly. His muscles became even more defined, and his body hair thickened and grew even darker.
He didn't know what 'intellectual capabilities' meant, but as his body grew larger and thicker, he felt a strange fog entering his mind. It was a little unsettling at first, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant. His usual thoughts quickly became overshadowed by his raising libido. As he grabbed his huge, Black throbbing cock, a dominant smirk crept on his mouth.
He turned his attention back to the computer and typed:
"Yeah, baby. I think I can make that happen. Just tell me who to fuck and I'll be there!"
He saw Kevin reply with a street address and a date and time, but Logan decided he would read that later. Now, his cock demanded his entire attention. He absentmindedly noticed his webcam turning on but paid it little attention. If Kevin wanted to watch him jerk his fat cock, he was very welcome to. After all, he just helped him find the job of his life!
That's certainly a way to beat recession! Also check out this blog!
765 notes
·
View notes
Text
head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}
Part 11.
Summary: It's good to finally getting back home to Saltburn. There's just a few things to work out, such as where Oliver's staying, and why.
{ masterpost }
Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.
Warnings: implications of child neglect
A/N: 3989 words. I think about Jacob Elordi saying that Felix would have Artic Monkeys on his personal playlist, about once a day. um okay so not only is this uneditd, but i definitely got very drunk halfway through it, so that's.... that. (im drunk as i publish this) BUT WE'RE AT SALTBURN AND OLLIE GETS HERE TOMORROW!! (which means the next chapter, which dw will be tomorrow irl) ((is this anything?? im worried its ooc please feedback??))
TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)
----
There is no reverence in you anymore for the castle in the countryside that is Saltburn.
Once it had towered before you, trembling, a child alone in every way that mattered until the doors opened before you. Saltburn was a haven away from the bitter hypocrisy of both expectations and apathy, though it took you quite some time to learn as much. At first, there was reverence; Saltburn was the place where every script you'd learned to smile through, every societal expectation you'd been trained to uphold, would be put to the test.
And if you couldn't keep up, if you messed up in this holy house in the face of their kind smiles, you were sure their gazes would turn blank with inevitable disappointment.
But that was years ago.
And mistakes made you interesting, your quirks made them laugh, and Saltburn became less holy each Summer as you found it to be far more human.
It's what occupies your mind for the entire trip back to Saltburn, with you and Felix sharing an earbud each from his iPod, and Farleigh reading - pointedly not not ignoring Felix after he'd found out the news.
You wonder what Oliver will see in the house; the sum of it's parts, or each room and inch of the grounds as their own storage space for memories worth so much more.
Felix hums along under his breath like nothing in the world could ever worry him. Farleigh licks the tip of his finger, glancing with ire at his cousin for just a moment before turning the page of his book. Play. You squint at the cover; Richard the Third. Shakespeare. Farleigh holds the play up further to hide the rest of his face from you both.
You'll get to the station before midday, and a town car will be waiting for you all. Most of your things from Oxford are on their way to a storage facility in the city for the Summer, but you've still got a few precious things you're bringing back to the estate in a suitcase a the front of the carriage, and a bag overhead.
Felix has been trying to look nonchalant and look out the window for a good part of the trip now, but he keeps glancing at you with a strange look.
"Does this change us?"
This time, you make sure to catch his gaze before you reach for the iPod. Most of the ride has been on shuffle, quiet otherwise between you two, if not for his humming, or yours. Flipping through the few albums he had saved, you clicked through to the one you had been looking for. The sunshine is beating down on him just outside the window, almost directly overhead, shining on him and everyone in behind him in the window seats, painting them in sharp relief if they had their curtains open.
You pressed play on You Probably Couldn’t See for the Lights But You Were Staring Straight at Me by the Artic Monkeys.
Felix, who knows and loves the song, can't look at you. Actually, properly can't look at you, hiding his embarrassed smile behind his hand as he forced himself to look out the window.
And you hum along, grinning, leaning just past him to also focus your gaze out the window.
"Stop that," he mumbles under his breath from behind his hand, clearly still smiling. All you do is continue to hum along as the band thrashes along in your heads. After a moment, you slide the iPod towards him, as if taunting him, daring him to change the song himself.
"- they're not half as bad as me," you sing under your breath. Felix is turning pink around the ears, but flips the iPod over onto it's face, letting the rest of the song play out, "say anything and I'll agree -" your smile grows wider and you sit back, but continue to hum.
If Farleigh's judging either of you, he doesn't lower his book enough to indicate as much.
The town car ride back to the estate was far more eventful, as the three of you began to properly discuss Oliver's impending arrival. Apparently he hadn't thought much about packing up his room at Oxford, what little there apparently was to pack up, so he was taking the extra day students were allotted to gather himself together for the Summer. That meant one night at Saltburn before he'd be there.
"I actually, genuine can't believe you sometimes," Farleigh had started two separate tirades in the past twelve hours exactly like this, and both about Oliver. It was no secret what this third was going to be about, "you honestly couldn't give me six weeks of peace? Six weeks?"
"You'll have plenty of peace, mate," Felix had insisted, eyes wide and pleading with his irate cousin, "and honestly, I think you'll really start to warm up to him."
"I appreciate that your optimism springs fucking eternal, Felix, but -"
"No, seriously, give him a chance outside of all the academics and what everyone else thinks," Felix was beginning to plead for a moment, all big brown eyes and imploring tone of voice. Farleigh, however, was not as well swayed as the rest of the world would be by his theatrics.
"I'm not going to play nice with your little -"
"Hey, he might be into that," you cut Farleigh off before he could say something too incendiary, but Felix still cast his frown between you both.
"Not helping, Y/N," he admonished, turning back on Farleigh who was suddenly overcome with mild revulsion at your implications. When Felix wasn't looking, you wiggled your eyebrows at him suggestively, teasingly adding to the bit. He fake-gagged, much to Felix's disappointment.
It wasn't a long journey, however, and soon enough the three of you were pulling into Saltburn, and there was something amusing about the collective sigh of relief you all shared once the door opened.
"Feels like ages since we've been back," Felix stretches, leaving his bags for the chauffer and doormen, as did you. Farleigh made a start towards the trunk of the car before the chauffer climbed out, giving him a confused look and he thought better of it.
"Christmas, right?" Farleigh stuck his hands into his pockets, sauntering up the steps beside you all, gazing up at the large, blue doors.
"Duncan taking his time," Felix muttered under his breath after a moment, to which you grinned.
"Probably wants to keep them closed on us as long as possible," though just as you say that, as Farleigh and Felix snicker, the doors creak open, and there, gaunt as you've ever seen him, Duncan somehow manages to loom impressively large, even as you've grown into an adult.
"Master Felix," he nods to each of you with the same stern civility he's always carried, "Master Farleigh, Captain Y/N." You nod in turn, voice turning cordial as you greet him warmly, despite your two companions barging through ahead of you.
"Duncan, always lovely to see you," you incline your head towards him the way you always have, and for a brief moment he allows himself a faint, but genuine smile.
"God, you're so fucking weird sometimes!" Farleigh calls over his shoulder at you. You roll your eyes, but Duncan is stone-walling again, so you slip past him to catch up. In time to hear Farleigh's voice lower and ask, "have you told your mother yet?" Felix makes a face.
"I texted her before we got on the train," it sounds uncomfortable, "she sent me an incomprehensibly long text back which I only got when we had service again. I think she's fine with it."
Farleigh hangs his head, his last defence against Oliver's impending arrival foiled. After a beat, he forced a smile, sliding up to get in step beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.
"Oh, we're gonna be best friends this summer," he tells you, as if you have no say in it, "you, me, and my fucking weed guy -"
"Say it fucking louder why don't you," Felix rolled his eyes, but you simply shook your head at the altercation, wrapping your arm around Farleigh's middle and giving him a squeeze.
"You're impossible, Farleigh," you told him, "and so lucky I love you."
Farleigh quietly cheers for what small triumph he had won, before both you and him look to Felix's vaguely sceptical expression, taking in the both of you.
"It's a fair trade," Farleigh told him easily, "you get your new best friend Oliver -" still yet to say the name without disdain, you note, "- I get Y/N."
"I did also promise Venetia I'd spend some time with her," you chime in, but Farleigh can't help himself but snort.
"You sure she won't pick a fancy for Oliver too?" You can hear his lip curl, but Felix pulls ahead where he's been casually leading you all through the house to his room. You can't see his expression.
"Fuck off, Farleigh -" you start, coldly pulling away from him, but Felix's tone is light, almost forcibly casual as he cuts you off.
"Ollie's lovely but I don't think he's much of her type."
"Everyone's Venetia's type," Farleigh spits, unable to stop himself from putting his foot in his mouth. The implication hangs in the air for a long few seconds before Farleigh catches himself. The unneeded reminder. The real reason for the sudden coldness. Felix turns, smiling bright with nothing behind his eyes as he cheerfully tells Farleigh -
"You know where your room is, right?" And says he's going to rest before hunting down the rest of the family amongst the estate. Farleigh meekly nods, and departs from you both. Both you and Felix follow him with your eyes; Felix's smile doesn't drop before the door closes behind him, and it's the two of you in the blue room, alone.
And you know he's thinking about Eddie.
You wish Farleigh knew how to keep his mouth closed, how to stop pressing buttons when he always knew what they did.
"Where's Ollie going to be staying?"
Felix's eyes flash to you, and you wonder if it were the right or wrong question. Is there a question in this moment that isn't loaded? Is there a question you could ask that wouldn't make him think of Eddie right now?
Eddie had stayed in Felix's room. In Felix's bed. At least he was supposed to. But Oliver wasn't Eddie, so he needed his own space.
Oliver was different to Eddie, you reminded yourself, and hoped that Felix was thinking it too. That was good. That was good.
"Dunno," Felix finally admitted with a sigh, draping himself over the cream sofa, looking up at the ornate ceiling. You sat on the stool for the broken piano, lifted the lid and idly played a few notes, listening to the little hammers in the instrument tap uselessly against broken strings.
"Vennie wouldn't do that again, would she?" Felix muttered so quietly you almost miss it. He doesn't call his sister Vennie often; you know he's dwelling, he's hurting the way he tries to pretend like he doesn't.
"Farleigh's talking shit because it's his job at this point," you tell Felix flatly, and he angles his head towards you, even if it looks like it hurts, so you see him contemplating, "but Ollie isn't Eddie."
Something lights up in the back of your mind as you read faint disappointment on Felix's face as he processes your words. Nodding, he sighs again, looking up at the ceiling.
"Last night was fucking beautiful," Felix's tone turns wistful; he hasn't told you properly about what happened between him and Oliver, but clearly it went well, "I hope Ollie likes it here." Then, closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath before offering, "I've been meaning to thank you, actually," he admits. You shift from the piano stool to sit on the arm of the sofa he was laying across, "for giving me space to spend those moments with Ollie last night."
His face scrunches up a little, then, as if sensing you by his head, he cracks an eye open. Slowly, almost embarrassed, he starts to smile.
"He's like you, you know?" He says gently, before he really considers what he means, and his face falls; you watch, you wait patiently, "can't go home ever again," apology in his eyes, "that's what he said to me."
There's that love, that desire to do good, to be good, that Felix has always craved. He's in his own head, all kinds of thoughtful and melancholy that he often isn't around the rest of the world. Felix shuffles himself over on the plush, wide sofa, making himself as small as possible, and you know it's an invitation. One that you take. It's awkward, but he holds you tightly so you won't fall off.
You wonder if he even realises that you're there, that you're in his arms and listening to the way his thoughts spill out of him from a moment of connection he craves but doesn't often get. If you're so much of his mental wallpaper that holding you like this, the way you listen, the way you are so gentle in these moments, if you're more like a simple diary, an easy, comfortable way to get these thoughts out of his head without the fear of his secrets being spilled upon someone who might use them against him.
"I don't think I'll ever understand not being able to come home," Felix admits softly, "I can't even wrap my head around how Ollie became the man he is with parents like that; and after all he's gone through, for this to be straw, the thing that means he'd rather live in a world alone than be around the people - person - who was mean to love and protect him and yet failed him over, and over, and over again? He's so bloody strong for how long he's gone through it all."
Swallowing hard, you're surprised by the way your eyes are clouding over. Trying not to break the moment, you press your face against his chest; Felix doesn't seem to notice, still trapped in his own thoughts, but he instinctively holds you a little tighter.
"'Home' doesn't mean the same for you as it does for me," Felix whispers softly, almost to himself, and it hits you square in the chest. The tears start to come, and you can feel them dampening his shirt, "that's what he'd said to me," oh, Felix hadn't even realised you were crying.
It takes another half a minute before he even seems to realise something is wrong, but you assured him you were fine, that you were just very glad that Oliver would be staying here instead for the Summer. He'd almost connected the dots at the start of the conversation, but now he couldn't seem to see them.
Still, you knew Felix, and you weren't sure if his heart could handle making you cry twice in two days. So you lie, and he lets it go.
Felix is sitting up and stretching, his mood having improved for having voiced his thoughts it seems, and you're drying your eyes when the door to the Blue Room opens.
"Darlings, Duncan just let me know you'd arrived and were on your way to freshen up before the afternoon," Elspeth was as bright and flighty as always, looking between you both, "so glad I caught you both." Felix is the first on his feet, warmly greeting his mother with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, which she returned in kind. Seeing your red-rimmed eyes, she's immediately concerned, but you brush it off quickly, telling her that you and Felix were simply discussing Oliver's situation and that you were incredibly excited to have him joining you all. She, of course, lit up at that.
"It will be such a treat, if I'm to believe my darling son," and of course she is to believe darling Felix, everyone at Saltburn always did. His admiration was worth it's weight in gold to the people who loved him, Elspeth especially. She latches onto the elbow he doesn't offer and you're left to catch up to them as they make their way through the familiar rooms to Felix's, her voice filling the space all the while.
"You must tell me all about dear Oliver," Elspeth insists; she, like her son, was made for Saltburn. She catches the light, beautiful and timeless and made to live amongst its timeless walls. Your face still feels hot; you don't know why but you feel out of place - home doesn't mean the same thing for you as it does for me - Felix pet's his mother's hand on his arm and assures him that she'll love Oliver. He's thoughtful. He's gentle. He's beautiful. Her eyes shine; even his mother is not immune to his light.
"Now, I hope you don't mind," Elspeth begins when the three of you get to the long gallery before Felix's room, "but it was rather last minute, so it's been something of a rush to get everything ready -"
"Get what ready?" Felix asks, and you watch them like a play, like a film, like a third party without any kind of say.
"I thought it would be best if Oliver stayed in the room attached to yours," Elspeth said, and it takes a moment, but you feel your stomach drop. This was worse than last Summer; at least then you had your own room.
"Y/N's room?" There's some victory to be taken in the way Felix seems ready to fight for you in this matter.
"Oliver is a guest, dear," Elspeth didn't even look at you in this moment, "we didn't want to have him set up, all alone, on the other side of the house." She smiles, and gives a fond, if condescending look over her shoulder to you, "you'll be alright, won't you sweetheart? It's just a bedroom, it's not a big deal." You try and smile, and nod, and be placating -
"They can stay with me," Felix insisted, "sleep over, like when we were kids." For a moment, he looks to you. The nod he gives is solid, is reassuring; it eases your heart.
"I don't know if that'd be appropriate."
Elspeth knows. Everyone fucking knows. No-one will say it, but it effects every damn thing they do. How they treat you. You know this, but no-one talks about it out loud.
Saltburn thrives on the unspoken.
"Why not?" Felix forces his mother's hand, "Y/N's my best mate, has been for years, we share a bed all the time." And Elspeth is too polite to do anything but concede, and lets you both know with a faint, awkward smile that your things will be moved to Felix's room before the day is out.
"And Y/N, darling," she does finally, properly acknowledge you, taking both your hands in hers, kissing you on both cheeks, "it's wonderful to see you, of course, so glad to have you home."
Home.
You smile warmly at her. After a beat, however, she casts a faint frown to the window.
"And I feel I'd be remis not to tell you that Venetia is refusing to get out of the pool until you go down and join her."
"Oh," there's an amused kind of warmth that blooms in your chest at that, at being sought after and missed; Felix rolls his eyes but it's fond, "how long has she been there?"
"Not long before you arrived," Elspeth gives a genuine, warm smile, clearly either wilfully or genuinely ignorant about the nature of your relationship with her daughter, "please just take it as a sign that we have all missed you dearly."
She leaves you both to it, reminding you of when supper was to be held, as if the time ever changed, and you and Felix quietly made your way into his room. Your room.
You watch from the doorway as your best friend breathes in familiarity of it all. His childhood bedroom, always left immaculate and untouched, a museum to him whenever he was away from the house. A place of so many of your firsts, yet never a place you'd really called your own. Felix falls onto the bed, face-first, swearing muffled by his expensive duvet.
"Every bloody person's determined to get on my nerves today," Felix sighed, flipping himself over, legs hanging off the end of the bed. "Not you, you don't count," he adds idly, flicking his wrist in your general direction, but still managing to warm your heart, "I'm glad Ollie's staying close by, but can you believe she thought you'd stay anywhere but here?" He sounded genuinely miffed, finally turning to look at you. When he sees the abashed way you're smiling at him, his frustration drops, "what?" He can't help but match your softness in this moment, and you shake your head, trying to tell him it's nothing. "It's not nothing, look at you," he insisted brightly; your smile widened, as if on cue, "you were getting teary thinking about Ollie just minutes ago; go on, what's on your mind now. Is it Venetia?"
"'s not Venetia," you insisted, finally joining him in the room, sitting yourself on the edge of the bed looking around.
Your room; the room you share with Felix, and so close to Oliver too.
"It's our room, isn't it?" It's like he can read your damn mind, practically giggling like a high schooler at the mere thoughts of what the two of you were bound to get up to.
"You were so insistent," you finally teased, grinning wide and leaning back against him, "it's almost like you like me or something."
"That's fucking lies and slander!" Felix crows, your head on his chest, "I'll sue you for that -" but you're already moving, straddling him, pinning his hands to the bed either side of his head as you grin down at him.
"Felix Catton's sharing his bed, call the tabloids!" You teased, leaning in, and when he captures your lips in a kiss, it's like he wants you to taste how sharp his amusement is. He bites and teases and frees his hands to pull you in. Quickly everything shifts and moves and there's something possessive about the way he kisses you, holds you, has you under him and pinned and breathless before you realise what had happened.
"You think I'd let mum kick you out like that?" His pupils are blown so wide with want you think they could swallow you whole in this moment; "never want you that far away if I can help it," it comes out as a breathless admission, almost like it escaped him, like he's caught up in the moment, and you never want him to stop talking to you like this, "can't say that at Oxford - fuck Oxford," he mumbles, his lips on your neck in the next instance. His teeth sting without breaking the skin, sucking with intent to leave an ache that would remind you of him every time you touched it for the next few days.
"Us and Ollie," his lips are gentle when he kisses across your chest, your collar bones, "I'm sure between the three of us we'll end up getting into proper tabloid trouble," you can feel his smirk, and there's something electrifying about the possibilities you find yourself considering.
"Us and Ollie," you agree with a roughish grin. Felix captures your mouth once more in a kiss, matching your energy, your enthusiasm, but adds, "Ollie tomorrow."
And at that, you remember; giddy laughter escapes you.
"Our room," you can't help but remind him, and Felix's grin stretches wider.
"Venetia can wait for you a little longer."
#felix catton x reader x oliver quick#saltburn x reader#saltburn imagine#felix catton imagine#felix catton x reader#felix catton x y/n#felix catton x you#oliver quick x reader#oliver quick x you#oliver quick imagine#head heart hand fic#manic writer
281 notes
·
View notes
Text
new beginnings - tom kazansky
tom 'iceman' kazansky x reader
Summary: Tom finds his pregnant wife in the heart of their shared home, the sight of her simply takes his breath away.
Word count: 1,120+
Warnings: fluuuufffff, SERIOUSLY FLUFFY SOFT TOM, pregnancy, afab!reader (still working on gender neutral tone as best I can), assumptions about size (I play into the plus size side of things because I am plus size, but there's no direct mention), no use of y/n (just she/her pronouns)
A/N: This is only rough edited by myself, I'm so sorry for any mistakes. (Im rusty as f*ck at fic writing) I've had this fic in my back pocket for months, please enjoy all the fluff. I'm head over heels for val kilmer as a person, and I'm well aware that the gif is not from Top Gun... this is however an aged up version of Commander Kazansky (;
Tom wasn't typically a man of many words, even after Top Gun and becoming a commander... He was still on track to becoming an admiral in a couple years and his stoic ice-cold exterior has carried him far in the Navy. No, there wasn't much that could get in his way now.
Except for her.
She melted his every icy edge. Especially now that she's 7 months pregnant with his baby. The way she waddled around the sizable estate that he purchased the year they got married. It'd been nearly 7 years since that beautiful day, but Tom and his wife decided to focus on their separate careers before committing to living with little ones under foot. He was nearing his mid-to-late 30's now and with his career excelling, his mind constantly settled on imagining what her beautiful features would be like mixed with his.
Would they get his ice-like stare or her warm bright irises that see right through to his soul? Would they get his pin straight hair that stuck up in all the wrong places or her beautiful, textured hair that fell beautifully in every light?
His mind would run rampant every time he looked at her, his eyes never failing to trail up and down her whole figure. He would linger on her face, taking in how absolutely mesmerizing she was in the pregnancy glow before darting down to her ever-changing belly. It was very noticeable now, and the way she braced the underside of the bump softened his stare every time. Even through the literal growing pains of making a human, she looked ethereal. He subconsciously pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. Tom was fully convinced that she could never be more beautiful than she was in this exact moment.
With a warm but soft chuckle under his breath, he stood slowly and made his way over to her. The book she'd been perusing at the kitchen counter happened to be a cookbook he got her for Christmas in the early years of their relationship. He'd assumed she must be craving something specific by the way she quickly flipped through the pages. He placed his hands over the tops of her shoulders, giving a gentle rub to the tense muscles in her shoulder blades and leaned in to kiss her neck. The smell of her conditioner and body wash from her shower this morning is almost intoxicating. His body was warm, causing her to lean back on his chest.
"You're absolutely radiant dear," Tom stated, a smile forming across his lips. "And absolutely distracting..." He hasn't been able to take his eyes off her since she entered the kitchen adjacent to the doors of his office. He'd been trying to get through some paperwork before finding her to ask what you might want for lunch as she graced her way into the heart of their shared home.
She was one of the only women that could ever truly take his breath away, though many tried. Even in a moment like this... with his wedding band heavy on her finger and growing the fruit of his love for her in her tummy, he still had to remind himself to breathe.
His large arms made their way down her body until they gently embraced her and her bump. He supported her belly gently, the same way the two had learned in the parenting classes Tom insisted on attending once she confirmed her pregnancy. The soft hum that escaped her throat told him that she needed this. Her eyes fluttered closed as he stood there, swaying gently with her in his arms.
“Blueberry.” Was the only thing that snapped the quiet of the moment between the two of them. Her words were soft in his ears. Tom raised an eyebrow in curiosity as he leaned forward to place his chin on her shoulder. The pages of the cookbook landed on a muffin recipe that had been dog-eared and made enough times to sport the stains of baking chaos.
Another low chuckle reverberated through his chest. “Cravings?” Tom placed another gentle kiss on her neck as he slowly released his childbearing wife to turn to the refrigerator behind him. This recipe was one he was familiar with, having made it several times over the years. He grabbed out the bowl of blueberries, buttermilk, butter and eggs while his wife gathered the remaining dry ingredients.
A quiet melodic sound filled the kitchen as Tom watched his wife pull up the large glass bowl from the cabinet. The smile spread across his face as he recognized their wedding song falling from her lips. “I wanna know what love is…”
Tom set the cold ingredients out on the counter, crossing the kitchen swiftly to pull her back into his arms. “I want you to show me…” He whispered to her, a hum parting his lips as he twirled her around slowly in the afternoon light of their kitchen. He mirrored her radiant smile as they slowly swayed together, her baby bump separating them a little more than usual but neither of them cared.
After enjoying the embrace of her husband, Tom’s wife pushed him away gently as she resumed making the muffins lil’ kazansky was craving so badly. The blonde commander only laughed as he kissed her hand before parting their embrace. He too busied himself making muffins again wordlessly as he reached into the bottom drawer of the oven. Grabbing out the old muffin tin, he paused to preheat the oven as he lingered there for a moment.
Tom’s hand immediately found his wife’s lower back as he brought the tin over to the island countertop, using the other to place the white liners in each cup. A devious giggle caught his attention and before he could even blink, she’d managed to touch his nose with a flour-covered hand. His steely eyes closed suddenly as she swiped at his face, unable to hide the slow grin that parted his lips as he dipped his own hand into the bowl of flour.
He laughed as he pulled her back from the counter slightly, his flour covered hand landing gently over the top of her baby bump. The white handprint was stark on her dark dress. The gasp that escaped from the woman in his arms only made him laugh harder as she rolled her eyes and shook her head at her husband’s antics.
"What am I going to do with you, Thomas Kazansky? ” She said exasperatedly despite a smile growing on her face.
“Love me.” He said simply, his eyes gazing deeply into hers as he pulled her in close again. “And make muffins with me forever.” She laughed, her heart full, as she accepted his proposal.
#tom kazansky x reader#tom iceman kazansky x reader#iceman x reader#tom kazansky#tom iceman kazansky#iceman#top gun iceman#top gun#top gun maverick#tom kazansky x pregnant!reader#fluff#val kilmer#pregnant reader
268 notes
·
View notes
Text
of our own making
(an X-Files fanfic)
Oh hey, look, it's that massive story I've been working on since January! I'm so thankful to everyone who has shown interest in the concept of this fic and the little snippets I've posted. You've been more help than you know. Without that support, I don't think this would have ever gotten finished.
A special thanks to @numinousmysteries who kindly beta read for me and did a fantastic job. I wanted to make sure I got this right, and she was a great help!
And now I can't wait to share this with you all! New chapters posted daily!
[Read on AO3]
Chapter 1/34 - ink and paper
How long has he been thinking about this, she wonders. What exactly is he thinking? Her mind races, trying to reconcile this Mulder whose deepest desires are spilled out here in ink on worn and crinkled brochures with the one she’s spent nearly every day with these past several months.
She'd never have guessed...
Find out if adoption is right for you!
Visit us at 8080 Meadowlark Ln. Annapolis, MD
“A Home for Every Child!”
Scully stares down at the brochure on the desk. One of many, which are half buried underneath a pile of paperwork from their current case. Certain words and phrases are circled in pen, underlined, annotated in the margins in the familiar scrawl she knows almost better than her own.
stability – less travel? change in division? discuss with Scully
loving home – ask Frohike for real estate agent #
The word “family” is circled three times.
She swallows with some difficulty, finding—to her dismay—that her hands are shaking. Mulder will be arriving any second, and here she is, frozen like a statue.
How long has he been thinking about this, she wonders. What exactly is he thinking? Her mind races, trying to reconcile this Mulder whose deepest desires are spilled out here in ink on worn and crinkled brochures with the one she’s spent nearly every day with these past several months.
She’d never have guessed…
“Morning, partner,” his voice calls out, and she jolts in surprise. She hears the door snick shut behind him, but she can’t bring herself to turn around. With deft fingers, she pushes the brochure back under the stack of papers where she found it, only the colorful corner of the page visible.
“Morning, Mulder,” she tries, clearing her throat. It comes out strained, but she hopes he doesn’t notice. She hides her trembling hands in her lap under the desk.
He looks down at her, half amused, half concerned. “You okay? You're not getting that stomach bug that's been going around, are you?”
“I'm fine,” she answers defensively, warning him to back off. She grabs a file off the desk in front of her with a little more force than necessary, plopping it open.
‘Okayyy,’ he mouths exaggeratedly, eyebrows raised. He sits down at his desk and leafs through some papers sitting on top, arranging them into neater stacks. When he uncovers the brochures, his eyes widen and he clears his throat, hurriedly covering them with other papers and trying to act natural.
Scully thinks about letting it go and pretending she doesn’t know what he’s hiding, but she knows she won’t be able to sleep until she finds out what’s been going on in that ridiculous head of his.
She idly flips to the next page of the file in her hand, displaying a confidence she doesn’t feel in the firm set of her shoulders
“Doing some light reading, Mulder?” she asks, attempting to look disinterested.
His head shoots up, a look of alarm on his face. For a second he thinks she might be talking about something else, that she couldn’t possibly know, but one look at her throws that theory right out the window. He glances back and forth between her and the papers on the desk a few times before dropping his shoulders in defeat.
“I’m sorry, Scully, you weren’t supposed to see those,” he says, shuffling all the brochures into a pile while carefully avoiding eye contact. “I was working here late last night. I must have forgotten to put them away.” As he speaks, he opens the top drawer of his desk and shoves them inside, then takes a seat at his desk. His nose is buried in a file before she can even respond.
She watches him now. He is a curiosity, determinedly feigning concentration on a case she knows he finds disinteresting and a waste of time.
Typical.
“You're really not going to say anything?” she asks, arms crossed in front of her.
That rankles him. “What do you want me to say?” he asks, indignation boiling below the surface.
She looks at him incredulously, the file in front of her all but forgotten.
“You're thinking of adoption? When were you planning to share this with me?”
He sighs and shakes his head, pleading silently with her. “It's too soon, Scully. I didn't think you'd want to hear it yet.”
“But you're looking into it because…”
“It's just been on my mind, that's all.”
She stares at him, brows furrowed.
“Since when?”
Since when… Images flash of a life he didn’t recognize. His sister, alive and grown up. A quiet suburban neighborhood. Cancer Man living just down the street. A wife and kids, but not the right ones. It was wrong, all of it was wrong.
“A hallucinatory trip into an alternate universe tends to make you think,” he answers simply.
He’s looking at her now, deadly serious despite the joking tone. She doesn’t respond. Can’t respond.
“I'm sorry, I didn't want to bring all this up,” he continues. “I know it's a sore spot for you.”
It takes her a moment to conjure words from her mouth, her lips moving but no sound coming out. “I just wasn't expecting…”
“For all I know, this isn't even something you'd want.”
What does she say to that? Is she interested?
“I– I'm not sure. I've never really considered it before.”
He waits, his eyes assessing her for some hidden meaning, some insight into her state of mind. He gets nothing. She’s totally blank.
“Well… what do you want?” He thought the question was innocuous enough, safer territory than straight up asking her if she wants to adopt, but apparently not.
She shuts her folder, abruptly standing and slinging her purse over her shoulder. “I'm going back to the crime scene,” she declares, changing the subject. “I want to see if there's anything we missed.”
“Scully…” he tries.
“Not now, Mulder.” Without even taking the time to put her coat on, she flees, leaving the door partially open in her rush to get away. Cursing under his breath, Mulder grabs his coat from its hook and hurries after her.
The elevator doors are almost all the way closed by the time he catches up, but in this case, he figures it’s worth the potential loss of a limb. He throws his hand between the closing gap in the metal doors, and it bounces back open to allow him entrance, to the extreme displeasure of one Dana Scully. He wisely stays silent in the elevator, stealing glances at her every few seconds out of the corner of his eye as they ascend. He can feel the frigid air coming off her in waves. It’s been a while since he’s seen her this annoyed with him, this eager to get away.
He won’t let her. Not this time. He’s learned from his mistakes.
In the parking garage, she's walking briskly, heels clicking on the concrete, and he has to pick up the pace to keep up with surprisingly agile little legs.
He didn’t want this confrontation. There was a reason he was keeping his research a secret. This is exactly what he was hoping to avoid, at least until the time was right to carefully drop some hints here and there. But now? There’s no carefully about it. No option to wait and let this blow over. There’s only one way out of this at this point, and unfortunately, that way is through.
He picks up the pace.
“You're the one who brought this up, Scully, I was perfectly happy throwing those brochures in my drawer and not saying a word.”
His voice echoes in the concrete parking structure, sounding harsh even to his own ears. As frustrated as he is with her, that isn’t his intent. He only wants to know what he can do to help her, how he can help her fulfill her dreams. He lets out a breath, and with it, releases his selfish frustration. She’s still walking away at a breakneck pace, and he doesn’t know how he can get her to stop and face this.
“If you want to talk about it, let's talk about it,” he says, pleading. “I can't help you if I don't know what you want. You want me to shut up, never mention the subject again?” he shouts, throwing his hands in the air, “Fine, just tell me. What do you want, Scully?”
“I just want to be a mom, okay?” she yells, whirling around to face him. Her words instantly silence him, and he watches stone-faced as tears spring in her eyes. “I see all these other moms out there and think… I could do that too. Why can’t I do that too?”
Well, mission accomplished. The truth is finally out there. Part of him feels bad for pushing her, but the other part knows that it was doing her no good to keep her feelings bottled up inside to deal with by herself. He reaches out a hand, intending to comfort her, his eyes softening in sympathy.
“You could. Scully, you’d be the best mom.”
She flinches away, stepping out of his reach. “You don’t know that, Mulder. I can’t even—even my body is even telling me no. Over and over.” She resumes her brisk walk to her car, and he thinks he sees her brush angrily at her face, no doubt wiping away the evidence of the stubborn tears that have managed to escape.
He rushes to get in front of her, walking backwards so he can keep her in his sight.
“When has that ever stopped you?” he asks. “You had cancer, and you kept fighting. You’re alive today because you refused to give up when your body quit on you. What about that?” He stops abruptly, forcing her to come to a halt before she crashes into him.
There’s no way out of this, is there? Her shoulders slump in defeat.
“You saved me, Mulder,” she admits quietly, shaking her head. “You’re the one who didn’t give up. Not me. It was only because you were with me that I survived.”
This time, when she goes to walk away, he stops her, placing a hand on her shoulder. The simple touch causes her to freeze, hardly breathing, and when he steps closer, she stays. His hands slide down her shoulders, holding her securely in place to ensure that his next words come through loud and clear.
“I’m gonna be with you here on this too, I promise.” His thumbs brush back and forth on the fabric of her sleeves, for his comfort or hers, she’s not sure. “You can still be a mother, Scully. I’ll help you.”
She shakes her head, her heart feeling like it has been ripped to shreds. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” He gives her a little shake for emphasis. She still won’t look at him. “You’ve kept me alive all these years, how much harder could a baby be?”
That gets a breathy chuckle from her, and her head falls to her chest. Groaning with the agony of this burden on her heart, she stops fighting it and leans into him. Without hesitation, he wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his embrace.
Her hand comes up to find purchase on his suit jacket, relishing in the comfort only he can provide. She’s past caring if anyone sees them like this here. Let them talk. They already do, anyway.
“Well, at least when you wake me up in the middle of the night, you’re not crying,” she speaks into his chest.
She feels him shrug, and can almost see the goofy smile she knows she put on his lips.
“Usually.”
She looks up at him with her chin on his sternum before taking a deep breath and pulling away.
“It's raining,” he says softly, glancing down at her and brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “We can go back to the crime scene later.” She nods, unsure what else to say. She allows herself to be led, his ever-present hand brushing against her back as they start toward the basement.
“Adoption,” Scully mutters to herself, shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t know, Mulder. This—this is different than IVF. With that, all I was asking for was your…” her eyes dart around, looking anywhere but at him, “genetic material. This is something entirely different.”
He’s pleased she’s at least considering it, but she doesn’t get it at all, if that’s what she thinks.
“How? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, the process of getting a baby is a little different, but in the long run, the result is the same.”
She pauses, looking at him in confusion. “What– what are you saying?”
He runs a hand awkwardly through his hair, suddenly taking a unique interest in his shoes and the floor of the parking structure.
“Yeah, we probably should have talked about this before…”
“Talked about what?”
He sighs and guides her into a stairwell. It’s stuffy and poorly-lit with a flickering lightbulb, but here, there’s less of a chance they’ll be overheard.
“Look, Scully, I don’t know what you had in mind for my involvement beyond contributing to half the baby’s DNA when you first asked me to help you get pregnant,” he starts, fighting hard to meet her eyes instead of shying away. “But, I– I had hoped it would be a little more than ‘Say hi to Uncle Mulder,’ every couple of months.”
She blinks back at him, speechless.
“I’m sorry if that’s overstepping, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable with all this, I just—” He takes in a breath. “I guess I got to thinking of what it might be like to have a family again.” His bout of honesty is met with a blank stare, and his nervous smile drops. “I completely misread the situation, didn’t I?” he asks, self-loathing waiting on standby. “Got ahead of myself…”
She stops him by catching his coat sleeve. “No—uh. No, you didn’t.” She collects herself, willing herself to offer him some reassurance. Her fingers release the fabric of his coat, shifting her grasp instead to his hand. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”
He glances down at where she holds tightly to him, and his lips curl into some semblance of a smile.
“I guess they might have had a point with all those communication seminars we’ve skipped, huh?”
She chuckles softly.
“I don’t think this is exactly what they had in mind…”
With a gentle tug, Mulder leads her down the stairs, committed to holding her hand as long as she’ll let him. The air is stagnant and silent, only the rhythmic echo of their shoes clicking on the concrete steps as they make their way to the bottom floor.
She’s thinking. What she knows now, it changes everything.
She had asked him to leave. Hid her grief from him as much as possible after her initial lapse into weakness when she came home with the news. She had almost kissed him, then, unsure of what else she had to live for. She knew she was hurting him by folding inward on herself in the weeks that followed, but that didn’t stop her from doing it. She was in a dark place, hardly able to see what was right in front of her. What she couldn’t see was that his hurt wasn’t just for her, born of some misguided sense of guilt or pity. It was his own, too.
“Mulder, all those months, after it failed—” There’s something like fear in her voice as she utters these words, or maybe regret.
“I was just worried about you.”
She squeezes his hand, feeling tears well in her eyes once more. “No, you were grieving like I was, and I didn’t notice. I pushed you away…”
“Dana…” He turns, a couple steps ahead of her, so for once it’s him who has to look up to meet her eyes. Her lip wobbles as she looks down at him, and he brushes his thumb tenderly over her knuckles. “You had to deal with it on your own, I understood that. I don’t blame you for anything.”
Those eyes. So open and honest and sad. She wonders how anyone could hurt him, could bear to break this man’s heart. How could she?
Choking back a sob, she falls into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding tight. His arms encircle her back, supporting her weight, and she feels herself being lifted as he goes up a step, closing the distance between them.
His hand climbs up to the back of her head, stroking her hair soothingly.
“I just wanted to be there for you,” he mumbles into her neck.
“You were, Mulder,” she gasps between bouts of tears, finding comfort in the feel of his soft hair between her fingers. “You’ve always been there.”
He pulls back, lifting his hands to cup her face and wiping away the tears he finds there with the pads of his thumbs.
“You don’t have to give an answer now,” he says, reassuring, “This is… a big commitment, I know, and I don’t want you to say yes just because I suggested it. I just wanted you to know it’s an option, and if you want to have a baby, I’m in. However you want to go about it, I’ll be as involved as you want. Just– let me know, anytime. Okay?”
He’s looking at her now, head ducked so those sad, puppy-dog eyes can get his message across.
She nods, holding tight to the wrists that so tenderly cup her face.
“Okay.”
~~~
Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]
@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @bby-got-books @calimanc @captainsolocide @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @mulderscully @oofubad @p34chi @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @slippinmickeys @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear @whovianderson
#msr#txf#x files#xf fanfic#mulder and scully#my fanfiction#fox mulder#dana scully#of our own making#ooom#msr adoption fic#adoption
89 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Night To Remember
Gilbert Blythe x Reader
➸ summary: as the daughter of a renowned lawyer in Avonlea, you are invited to this season's debutante ball. little do you know, you're about to meet the man who will steal your heart
➸ warnings/notes: probably some historical inaccuracy, stereotypes of the role of men and women (it’s the 19th century, c’mon), strays from canon, all characters are over the age of 18
A/N: can you tell i've been watching bridgerton?
word count: 1.9k
————————
YOU WERE NEVER one for rumors. Ever since you left school and were given the opportunity to study at a university you had decided to stay far away from that type of lifestyle. You saw how gossip ruined many girls and destroyed several friendships - and you refused to fall into that trap.
Not to mention the fact that your family was well respected by the ton, and their youngest eligible daughter parading around with false stories would not bode well.
So, when whispers of a supposed ‘debutante ball’ were circling around the girl's dormitories, you paid them no mind. Certain families had a guarantee to be invited to one of these events, while others had to work their own way in. If there was to be a ball you would've already known by now.
Arriving back to your chambers, you were happy to see that your roommate was still in her classes. She was a nice girl, but too chatty for your liking.
You were so occupied by your thoughts that you almost missed the pristine envelope that sat at the foot of your bed, the purple wax shining in the sunlight. It was your father's emblem. Either somebody died or you were about to get some amazing news. Grabbing your letter opener, you sat on the soft sheets as you analyzed the contents of the page. It read:
To my dearest,
As you may now know, this season's Debutante Ball is to be set in the Halloway Estate come dawn tomorrow night. Your father and I decided it best to wait as we know you wish to complete your studies, but as the time is nearing quite quickly we had no other choice but to exempt you from classes for the time being. The carriage will await you at noon.
With warmest regards, your loving mama.
Groaning, you crumpled the paper in your hands and threw it onto your pillow. You were never interested in the social aspect of high society. Important dinners, town fairs, and theatre visits were a common occurrence in your childhood. All of which greatly impeded your learning, and you hated it.
Ultimately you knew you had no choice. Deciding to make the best of it, you began to collect your things. There was never a point in arguing with your parents, especially since they had already sent someone to come get you.
You just hoped the ball would pass quickly.
YOUR PREVIOUS WISHFUL thinking unfortunately did not work out. After being pampered for what felt like hours, and revised on proper etiquette and rules, you already wanted to go back home.
The frilly dress you wore was beautiful, but uncomfortable. Your maids made sure no lace was loose and that all the fine whale bone in your corset was tucked perfectly against your torso. It was a physical embodiment of your imprisonment in this little social charade your parents wanted you to play.
Introductions went by as quickly as they came, and your parents accompanied you side by side as you trailed down the grand staircase.
While every other girl was back on campus studying for exams, you were here frollocking about. How would dancing and mingling help your education? You pushed back a sigh and twisted the edge of the ring on your finger. It was a purity ring that was handed down to you by your mother, something she had held in her family for generations.
“Now, now, dearest,” said your mama as she interlinked her arm with yours. “No need to fret. You remember your dancing lessons?”
You simply nodded. With your curls bouncing around and your perfect dress feathering across the floor you felt like a porcelain doll. It was like you had been dressed up solely for the purpose of being looked at. Which, in fairness, was quite the case.
Throughout the night various men came to ask for permission to dance. Some were accepted, and some declined, much to your pleasure.
Eventually your father ventured off somewhere to talk business and your mother was caught up in conversation with an old friend. It was the perfect opportunity to sneak out for some fresh air. Picking up the hem of your dress you jogged as quick as your heeled sandals would let you.
Cold air hit your face as you were met with the evening sky. You leaned against the marble rail of the balcony, reveling in how nice the breeze felt. It was getting much too stuffy inside. You finally let out the sigh you had been holding in all night.
“The stars are beautiful tonight don’t you think?” said a voice.
Slightly jumping, you turned around to see who it was. There in the pale moonlight stood the most handsome man you had ever seen. Many gentlemen greeted you tonight, but this one had something different about him. Perhaps it was the gentle way he carried himself, his hands tucked behind his back politely - or maybe it was his brown orbs that seemed to pull you in with every second that passed.
“My apologies. I wasn’t aware that anyone was here,” you replied, moving away from the balcony to return inside.
As much as you would’ve wanted to continue the conversation with the attractive man, an unchaperoned lady at night was a guaranteed scandal.
“No need. I was only here for a breath of fresh air.”
He looked at the glass door, eyeing the people in the ballroom. “I could leave if you wish,” he offered.
Shaking your head you continued to make your way back to your parents. Yet when you looked back at him, something in you begged you to stay. Maybe it was just the way your heart soared at the sound of his smooth voice.
You moved away from the door.
“What brings you out here?” you asked as you twiddled with your ring again. It was a nervous habit that you had developed while at school and your mother absolutely hated it.
The man, however, noticed and made a mental note of it in his head. He found it rather cute.
“This sort of thing isn’t really my forté,” the man confessed.
A smile found its way onto your face. The first one you’ve had all night. “Well, Mr…” you paused, looking at him.
“Blythe. Gilbert Blythe.”
“Well, Mr. Gilbert Blythe. As it so happens, it isn’t mine either.”
You both floated back to the edge of the terrace. It overlooked a huge garden that spanned a few acres. While it was gorgeous, it all felt too grand. A small patch of grass with some flowers was infinitely more charming than this overgrown imitation of a forest.
“And what is your forté, Miss -“
“Y/N,” you replied quickly.
Gilbert repeated the name, as if he was getting a feel for it on his tongue. It was quite the lovely name.
The black suit he wore fit him perfectly. His straight-set shoulders were donned with a fine material, his tie sitting delicately against his chest. Whoever he was, he definitely had money. Even the way he styled his hair seemed so prim and proper.
“I’m more of an academic,” you admitted. Most men didn’t like hearing of their bachelorette’s life goals. Many actually preferred that they stayed out of school.
Gilbert hummed, his gaze settling up at the heavens. “We have quite a lot in common then, Miss Y/N.”
You would’ve expected the interaction to be awkward. Instead, you found yourself enjoying the comfortable silence that fell between the two of you. Soon you would have to return to the ball. For now you decided to make the most of it before you had to vacate.
“And what is it that you do, Mr. Blythe?”
Gilbert smiled, his eyes squinting. How he wasn’t already spoken for, you had no idea. “Please, just Gilbert. Mr. Blythe ages me.”
“I’m a doctor,” he finished after a moment.
A doctor. Usually medical practitioners were old and reserved. Well, at least the ones you had been to. You never thought they could be so… easy on the eyes.
You hummed in response. “Are you in university, just Gilbert?”
Another smile. Dimples graced his cheeks perfectly and if you didn’t know any better you would’ve reached over to smooth them out. “I am. And you?”
The wind picked up slightly, ruffling your hair. “I am. I’m studying law - I hope to take over my father’s business one day.”
You knew you were sharing too much. It was just too easy with Gilbert, he had a certain relaxing aura about him. Your parents would love him too. The thought made you giddy.
With his eyebrows raised, he turned to you. “A lawyer, huh?”
Nodding, you let your eyes meet his. In the quiet of the night, you realized that brown was quickly becoming your favorite color. Brown like his eyes, or like the chocolate locks that sat so prettily atop his head.
“You must be a very smart woman to get into law school.”
“And you must be a very smart man to get into medical school,” you mocked back. He merely shook his head in response, letting his lips form into yet another breathtaking grin.
“I'm compelled to ask. Why are you outside and not in there dancing? Any gentleman would be lucky to have such a graceful, intelligent woman on his arm.”
The comment made you blush and you turned your head away from him. After this brief interaction you realized that the only man you wished to dance with tonight was Gilbert. Nobody else could stand a chance anymore - not that they ever did.
In a rush of confidence you replied. “Perhaps I don’t have the right men asking me.”
With a grin on his face, Gilbert held out his palm. His hands looked so inviting. You wondered how they would feel against your own, smaller hands.
“Well then, may I have this dance?”
Placing your fingers against his, you let the warmth spread across your body. He felt more perfect than you could’ve imagined. You let him lead you back to the ballroom, the shiny ground causing your shoes to clack against it. This was perhaps the first and only dance that you would actually enjoy at this event.
Gilbert’s hands felt light and pleasant on your waist. And there was something so tender about the way he spun you around.
He was like no other man you had ever danced with.
His feet were perfectly in sync with yours as he lead you across the floor. Warm eyes were concentrated on your face, never once leaving your penetrating stare. It felt more intimate than anything you had experienced to date. Your hands cupped his own as he sped the dance up, his twirls and dips causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.
That night you felt like a princess in his arms.
When the music died down, he hesitantly dropped the grip on your waist. Lifting up your ringed hand to his lips, he placed a feather-like kiss onto it, honey colored orbs fixated on you.
“I hope we can do this again, Miss Y/N.”
Your skin buzzed in the absence of his touch, and you felt the area where he had left his mark. A kiss so gentle that you would dream about it for many nights to come.
You only hoped your father was in contact with somebody who knew Gilbert Blythe - because after tonight, you weren’t so sure you could see any man the same ever again.
#gilbert blythe x reader oneshot#gilbert blythe x reader imagine#gilbert blythe oneshot#gilbert blythe x reader#gilbert blythe x y/n#gilbert blythe headcanon#gilbert blythe fanfic#gilbert blythe imagine#gilbert blythe#anne with an e imagine#anne with an e fanfic#anne with an e#anne of green gables#awae fandom#awae fic#awae imagine#awae#anne shirley cuthbert#anne shirley#anne with an e x reader#anne with an e fic#anne with an e oneshot#anne with an e headcanon
80 notes
·
View notes
Text
Audrey doesn’t have children and she’s not interested in being a mom, but somehow she’s ended up with a bunch of teens in her apartment calling her ‘Mrs. Rose’ and asking her (or her husband) to take them to the mall on weekends. And, apparently, a bunch of seventeen year olds building a blanket fort in her living room for a movie night is more appealing than the school dorms, while an army arrives at the exact same time every Saturday night to take over her kitchen for pizza, throwing cash in a pile to help cover the cost.
“They’re Hadie’s friends, Chad. The Royal Palace is right there,” she complains, scrolling through a sales page dedicated to 12 person mini-busses. “Mal is Queen or whatever. Why am I the one doing this?”
“They want to get away from Royal life, not closer to it, love,” Chad tells her, leaning over her shoulder and pointing at a bus. “What about that one?”
“Not a good safety rating. Is a twelve seater enough?”
“I think so?” Chad counts on his fingers. “Chloe sees us more than she sees her parents, right?”
“Right. It’s all of Hadie’s VK friends: Him, Dina, Jace, Harry and Eddie. Then there’s Chloe and Ariana. That’s what…nine of us?”
“One more; Lexi usually comes with Chloe.”
“Ah, right, can’t forget Anxelin. Ten. Ten of us.” Audrey lands on a good choice and buys without a second thought. She sits back, turning to her husband wearily. He frowns back at her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Do you think we need a bigger house?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. A bigger garden would be nice.”
“A dedicated office?”
“A garage.”
“Extra guest rooms.”
“A pool.”
“A pool?” Audrey screws up her face. “Really, Chad?”
“Summertime gets hot you know, and the Enchanted Lake is always busy. And with eight teenagers?”
“Touché,” Audrey agrees, flipping open a tab to new real-estate. “Pool it is.”
#disney descendants#we the anti heroes#found family#audrey descendants#chad charming#chloe charming#princess ariana rose#hadie descendants#text post#world building#thinking thoughts
47 notes
·
View notes
Text
…Sometimes Not (Part 11)
All I’ve Ever Known
This is a submission for @choicesflashfics, using prompt #1, and @choicesoctober prompt ‘best friend’.
Title inspo: Only You - Matthew Perryman Jones
A/N: This is an au mini series to my Always You story. Not beta’d. Please excuse any errors.
Book/Pairing: TRR; Liam x OC (Reyna)
Rating: T • Warnings: None but some mild language.
Word count: 2500
Catch up here
Sitting on the balcony of the estate in Valtoria, Liam sipped his morning coffee as his eyes skimmed over a newspaper.
Valtoria hosted its annual Lantern Festival the previous day, and the King had been invited to be the first guest to stay overnight at the duchy’s estate since its recent updates and repairs had been completed.
The estate had always been a wonder and one of the most elegant, but with its new design, it was almost otherworldly. They had done an incredible job bringing the place back to life since the King’s announcement months prior that he was hoping to instate a new ruler over the duchy since it had gone unclaimed for so long.
Taking another sip of coffee, Liam’s eyes slid to where his overnight bag sat on the bed bench inside the master suite. Inside the bag was the worn leather-bound journal Reyna had given him to read. While he was packing for his trip to Valtoria, he grabbed it from his nightstand; it was where it had been since the day he arrived home from his trip to New York.
And it had remained unopened.
Yes, Liam promised Reyna he would read it, and he had every intention of doing so because he would never break a promise to her … but he’d been terrified of what he was going to find inside. “You think I simply fell out of love with you over the years … but hopefully reading this will make you understand. It will tell you everything you need to know.” He’d convinced himself that whatever was in that journal wasn’t anything good for him.
Was it a detailed dissertation on all the reasons why she fell out of love with him?
Was it everything she did to help herself let him go?
Was it a compiled list of all the reasons why they never should have crossed that line to begin with and why they’d never work?
Reyna said she was hopeful that it would make him understand, but why would Liam want to understand that? Simply knowing was hard enough; he was content not being privy to all of the tragic details.
Liam had to read it, however, and fast … because Reyna would be arriving in Cordonia tomorrow evening. He was a fairly quick reader, but that journal was thick and he had no idea what or how much was inside; he hadn’t even fanned through the pages, afraid of possibly catching a glimpse of something he wasn’t yet prepared to see.
Liam sighed as he stood and walked inside; he dipped his hand into the bag and pulled out the journal. He flipped it over in his hands, studying it. For all the staring he’d done at it since it was given to him, he still hadn’t been able to place why it looked so familiar.
Letting out a breath, Liam glanced out the double doors that led to the balcony, staring at the waterfall across the gorge in thought; he didn’t have much time left to fulfill his promise.
Just get it over with, Liam told himself.
Letting out another sigh, Liam exited the room, looking for the estate’s majordomo; once he found her, the King informed her that he’d be staying another night. He relieved her and the rest of the staff of their duties for the next two days so he could have the place to himself.
When the estate had finally cleared out, Liam headed back to the master suite; he returned to his seat on the balcony with the book resting in front of him on the table. He let out a breath as he finally flipped it open to the first page.
Liam’s eyes first fell on the date written at the top … the day of his wedding. Then, he saw the first line.
“Dear Liam …”
Pausing on those first two words, Liam furrowed his brows. It’s a letter? Curious, he finally fanned through the book; every page started the same way: “Dear Liam …”
The journal was filled with letters Reyna had written to him.
It wasn’t what Liam had thought it would be … and now he truly had no idea what to expect from it.
Letting out another nervous breath, Liam flipped back to the beginning. He scanned over the page, noticing spots where the ink had smeared and the paper was cockled … spots where her tears had fallen onto the pages.
With a tightness growing in his chest, Liam finally started to read.
“Dear Liam,
I just watched you say your vows … and I feel like a piece of me just died …”
****
Hours had passed since Liam started reading. He couldn’t seem to stop. He’d been consumed by every word, and every time he flipped the page to a new letter, he found himself holding his breath, not knowing what was coming.
Liam checked every date with each new letter; Reyna had written to him almost every single day. Some letters were long and deep and vulnerable while others were short, some a mere sentence or two.
Reyna wrote to him about her days.
“Today without you was particularly hard …”
Reyna wrote to him about her accomplishments.
“I’m officially done with school. I’m not going to the ceremony, though. I told my parents I just didn’t feel like it, but the truth is much deeper than that. You’ve been to both my graduations before this: high school and undergrad. I can’t bear to go because I know I’ll look for you in that crowd … and you won’t be there …”
Reyna wrote to him every time something reminded her of him.
“I went to an apple festival upstate today. Obviously, you were heavy on my mind because you and apples go hand-in-hand. It made me think about all the times we spent together in Applewood. I really miss those days …”
Reyna wrote to reminisce, even adding photographs to some of the pages.
“We had so much fun that night. Do you remember? I’ll never forget how much we laughed.”
Reyna wrote to him when she and Luca became official. And she wrote to him when they got engaged.
“I hate saying I’m happy because I don’t know if I can truly be happy without you. But he’s good, Liam. And he loves me. A part of me feels so guilty, though. Choosing anyone but you feels like … settling. I know that’s a horrible thing to say. He doesn’t deserve that … and I don’t deserve him …”
Liam rubbed his hand over his mouth as he blinked away the sting in his eyes. Despite knowing where they ended up, it was still hard to read about how Reyna had almost moved on. She was fully prepared to have a future with someone else, and his stomach twisted in knots at the mere thought of it.
Liam continued to read letter after letter.
Each page detailed what Reyna’s day-to-day life was like without him.
Liam was reliving their time apart through her eyes … and he went through every emotion with her as he read, adding some tears of his own to the pages alongside hers.
*******
Wincing from the kink in his neck, Liam let out a low groan; pausing his reading only to eat, he’d eventually moved from the balcony to his bed when night started to fall. He’d fallen asleep reading and woke up, slouched uncomfortably against the headboard.
When his eyes opened, Liam saw the journal sprawled across his chest. He’d made it about halfway through, and despite being unable to put the book down, the heaviness in his eyes from reading all day — and from his emotions getting the better of him at times — had him succumbing to sleep.
Liam shifted his position on the bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes before he glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. It was 7 a.m.; he had to leave there by noon. Shit. Letting out a breath, he lifted the journal, scanning over the page he’d left off on. It detailed Reyna’s first time viewing a venue for her wedding; she said nothing about it felt right.
Setting the book facedown to mark his page, Liam got up and headed out of the room.
After making a fresh pot of coffee and plating some fruit for breakfast, Liam headed back to the room; when he stepped inside, he set the tray he carried everything up on down on the bed before sitting next to it.
With only a few hours to finish before he’d have to leave to prepare for Reyna’s arrival, Liam lifted the journal, picking up where he’d left off.
****
Within a couple of hours, Liam found himself three-quarters of the way through the journal. When he flipped another page, he checked the date at the top before his eyes slid down to the letter.
It was from the day Reyna had called off her engagement.
“I know I made the right decision, but I feel awful, Liam. I never should have let it drag on this long, but I’m only now realizing that I wasn’t truly happy. I was simply distracted from my sadness. It’s not fair to hold him to this impossible standard that he will never meet, though. The simplest way to put it … he wasn’t you …”
Liam let out a shuddered breath, feeling his eyes sting as he read those words again. He wasn’t you. Clearing his throat and blinking away the tears, he continued to read.
****
The further Liam got into the journal, the more he expected Reyna’s words to start to shift and change … to tell him she was getting better, that she was starting to let him go. But with each page turned … those words never came.
Each letter only seemed to be more riddled with heartache and longing.
“I’d give anything just to hear your voice right now.”
“I’m not myself. I haven’t been for a long time. I walk around with a permanent missing piece … a void inside me that will never be filled. I wish you were here, Liam.”
“I miss you so much it fucking hurts.”
“I wish there wasn’t so much of you left behind inside me. Laughs. Smiles. Inside jokes. So much history. A decade’s worth of memories.”
“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this, Liam … how much longer I can pretend that you not being in my life isn’t destroying me. I miss my best friend.”
Liam found himself struggling to rein in his emotions. He had often wondered during those years apart if Reyna ever thought about him the way he thought about her.
This journal proved that she had.
When Liam finally found himself on the last page, he momentarily froze. He wiped his eyes and blew out a slow breath, trying to gather himself.
With a slightly trembling hand, Liam flipped the page. When he checked the date, his brows furrowed before his gaze shifted to the letter.
Dear Liam,
It’s been three years, but I finally made it to the last page of this journal … and I think it’s going to be the most difficult letter yet.
I’m in Paris for a charity function on my mom’s behalf. I haven’t been here in years, but the first thing I thought of when I landed was you. After the event, I came right to the bridge where we put our lock. And get this: I actually found it. I’m sitting next to it right now, hoping it’ll somehow give me the strength I need to write these next words.
When I finish this letter, I’ll need to close the book … and not just this one … but our book as well. God, it hurts to even write those words because I don’t ever want to close the book of ‘us’, but I think it’s time I face the reality that we’ll never be anything more than two people with a past and some memories.
Maybe our fate was something decided long ago. And no matter how much we wanted it to be different — how much I wanted it to be different — we couldn’t escape a fate that had already been sealed. We can’t change what’s been written in the stars. No matter how much I might want to ignore it, I need to come to terms with the fact that this is how things were supposed to be … even if I don’t understand it.
I wish I knew the purpose of it all … the purpose of the universe letting me get to know and love you only for you to be taken away from me. There’s got to be a life lesson somewhere in all of this, right? I don’t know what it is yet … but I hope to figure it out someday.
I wish you were here with me right now. I’m looking at this lock … this piece of us that stood the test of time in a way that we couldn’t. And just like that word we etched into the metal … you and what we had will forever be etched inside me, no matter how much time goes by. It’s said that everyone has one great love in their life, and you are, without a doubt, mine.
Loving you and being loved by you was my greatest honor, and I could spend lifetimes trying to force myself to fall out of love with you, but I know that it would be futile to even try. My heart has been yours since I was 16, and even though I have to close our book, what I feel for you will never change. No matter where I am, what I feel, or who I become, it will always begin and end with you. You will forever have a piece of me that I will never get back. And I hope that wherever you are, you know that I will, unequivocally and with my entire heart and soul, always love you, Liam.
Only you.
Always you.
Tears streaked Liam’s cheeks as he finished reading the last letter; his breath hitched as his blurred vision skimmed over the words again and again and again. And as he did, he realized when this last letter was written: the night they had run into each other on the bridge in Paris a year ago.
That’s why the journal looked familiar; it’s what had fallen out of her bag. Liam remembered seeing it as he crouched down to help her pick up her things, how he could have sworn he saw his name written on the pages but hadn’t gotten a good enough glance before she snatched it away.
Reyna filled a thousand pages in that journal trying to express both her unwavering love for him and her heartbreak over what she lost. And she had written the last one on the same night they found each other again.
A reunion written in the stars … a fate far from sealed.
Liam finally understood what Reyna meant when she said that the journal would tell him everything he needed to know.
All this time … she had loved him all this time.
“Liam?”
Hearing the soft lilt of her voice, Liam lifted his tear-filled eyes to see Reyna standing in the doorway.
***************************************
Perma Tags (if you’d like to be added or removed for this story, please let me know): @zaffrenotes @cocomaxley @emichelle @sweetest-marbear @indiacater @gibbles82 @the-soot-sprite @esmckenzie @dcbbw @burnsoslow @deb-1106 @bbrandy2002 @charlotteg234 @neotericthemis @foreverethereal123 @choiceskatie @sirbeepsalot @gnatbrain @openheart12 @sincerelyella @superharriet @queenrileyrose @aestheticartsx @kingliam2019 @indiana-jr @bascmve01 @rainbowsinthestorm @emkay512 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @forallthatitsworth @walker7519 @iaminlovewithtrr @amandablink @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @princessleac1 @21-wishes @appleone @tessa-liam @pixelatedpassion @malblk21 @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @lovingchoices14 @nestledonthaveone @forthebrokenheartedthings @nomadics-stuff @differenttyphoonwerewolf
#trr#the royal romance#choices trr#choices the royal romance#liam rys#king liam rys#liam x oc#trr liam x oc#choices liam x oc#king liam x oc#trr king liam x oc#trr liam#king liam#trr fanfic#trr fanfiction#trr fan fic#trr au#trr au fanfic#choicesflashfics#cfwc fics of the week#choicesoctober2023#choicesOCtober
138 notes
·
View notes
Text
under the mistletoe (n. kento x reader)
summary: you're back in town for winter break, and gojo has a plan to get you with your crush: nanami kento. cue operation: under the misletoe + let the shenanigans begin.
gen. info: college au, fluff, this could very well count as a crack fic, mdni please and thank u, no beta we post like men!!1!1!
c.w.: slight suggestive content toward the middle of the fic, drinking games, alcohol, dub con*, some language, everyone involved is 21+, satoru gojo is a menace to society, mutual pining, maybe possibly ever so slightly ooc, why did i make it sort of angsty at the end lmfao
w.c.: 2.8k (oops - this was supposed to be a drabble)
*given that alcohol consumption is a part of a fic involving intimacy (even if its kissing), im playing it safe and tagging this as well.
“Did you see who’s back home for the holidays?” Gojo practically catapults himself through the door of Shoko’s apartment, eager to break the news of your arrival back home. Geto’s eyes widened slightly in excitement, shifting up from his slouched position on the couch. “Kento’s gonna be elated. He hasn’t stopped talking about her since she left.” Nanami had come to confide in the group, Gojo especially, about his qualms with your relationship. He felt like everything was one step forward, two steps back. And the worst part? It was no one’s fault but his own. Every time he saw you, he was rendered speechless. In awe that a person like you could allow themself in his presence. Utterly and unabashedly infatuated. However, when all the words he could seem to muster to you were short and curt, it made getting to know you better just a little difficult. But, of course, you were well unaware of this. “Is he actually going to talk to her?” Shoko questions, “Or is he just gonna do that brooding thing where he looks longingly from the corner of a room?” Utahime nods in agreement, but Gojo gives a smirk. “I have the perfect plan.” Gojo fills the group in on the grandiose idea he’s come up with to get the two of you to talk to each other, aptly named ‘Operation: Under the Mistletoe’. Everyone seemed to be on the same page for the plan, but Utahime raised a skeptical brow. “Just know Satoru, if this all goes to shit I’m kicking your ass.”
You feel the vibration of your phone in your back pocket, notifying you of a new text message.
gojo: holiday party at mine tmrrw night. be there or be ⃞
↳ 🫡🫡 yessir
Once you sent your response, you pondered on how the night would go. Would Nanami be there? Would you actually get to say more than three words to him before getting too nervous and darting away? At this point, you were certain he’d pay you no mind. One too many awkward interactions to warrant anything other than a polite acknowledgement that the two of you were in the same room at the same time. Simple semantics.
You triple checked your location to make sure you didn’t accidentally drive into a gaudy Christmas postcard. The Gojo estate was breathtaking, adorned top to bottom in ribbons, lights, and greenery. Off to the left side of the house, there was a winding garden path leading to the guest house, which doubled as Satoru’s residence when he visited home for the holidays. You parked your car and made your way up to the guest house. Gojo was waiting on the porch for you, giddy at your arrival.
“You’re here!” He jogs over to you, holding out his arm so he could escort you in.
“Sure am. Hope I’m not too late?” The simple banter was something you’d grown to miss while away at school. You were all too ready to fall back into the routine of being back home.
“Never.” Gojo opens the door for you, and you make your way into the house. It was just as ornately decorated as the main house, with holiday decor at every corner. Shoko and Utahime come up to greet you, giving you a hug and divulging how much they missed you. Geto joins Gojo, wrapping his arm around the white haired boys waist, and greets you as well.
Nanami was propped up against the doorframe leading from the living room to the kitchen. It was surprising how a man so big was hell bent on making himself look small. You give him a small wave, and he nods quickly in acknowledgement.
After some small talk with the group, Gojo calls the party to order. “I mean, now that everyone’s here, we can start the game.”
“What game?” You and Nanami questioned the white haired boy in unison, causing a light blush to brush against your cheeks.
“It’s called ‘Cootie Shot’. You see the mistletoe around the house?” Gojo motions at various nooks and crannies adorned with the plant around the guest house. “If you and your partner are caught under it by a different team, you gotta kiss. Otherwise, for immunity, you have to take a shot of your choice. Cootie, shot. Cootie shot!” Gojo himself would be sticking to juice for the rest of the night after having his first shot. There were a handful of nights out drinking that were memorable to say the least. “Suguru and I are together, obviously. Shoko and Utahime are partners, and, last but certainly not least, you and Kento.”
You take the shot, feeling the gentle burn of the liquor as it goes down.
“Let the games begin!”
It took all of 20 minutes to find yourself under a bushel of mistletoe with Nanami. Ever the eager one, Gojo was first to notice. You look up at Nanami, giving him a nod. He’s tall enough to where you’re standing on your tiptoes to lean into the kiss. A simple peck is what he gives you. His arm rested against your waist, keeping the two of you steady. But maybe he gave you a small smirk once you pulled away, just for the two of you. And you could taste the liquor lingering on his lips from the first shot of the night.
The game continued on throughout the night, with Gojo and Geto in the lead. They’d managed to catch Shoko and Utahime five times already, but neither seemed to mind the shot penalty. You and Nanami caught the former pair a couple times. Gojo opted to stick to the “cootie” part of the game after the first shot though, partially under the advice of his partner but also to make sure he didn’t make a complete ass of himself. The night was still young, and there was still plenty that could happen.
Gojo put on a holiday mix of music he claimed to have ‘curated perfectly’ and to set the atmosphere for the night. As if on cue, you could hear the piano chords of an all too popular hit from the 80’s. “What’s a party without a power ballad?” Shoko and Utahime immediately jumped in and began acting out the lyrics with him. It was a performance worthy of awards. You might have even shed a tear if you didn’t look over at Kento actively trying not to laugh at the sheer intensity of the show. And his laughter was contagious, with you yourself falling victim to it. Once everyone was able to collect themselves, you all decided to decompress for a moment. Soft holiday music began to fill the room as the six of you indulged in some much needed catch-up. Feeling the pull of the music, you walk over to Nanami and place your hand out, offering him to dance. He takes it with a smile, letting his hands rest on your waist. Yours found a spot comfortably around his neck. Swaying to the beat of the music, you take note of his cologne. It’s strong but not too overbearing, smelling like spice and wood. It was perfectly Kento.
“You two sure you don’t want to call it a night early? Catch up? Catch up?” Gojo’s eyebrows nearly jump off his face with the velocity he’s raising them up and down. Your brief moment of splendor was interrupted by a rather overjoyed Satoru.
Utahime gives Geto a look of dissatisfaction. “Can’t you put him on a leash or something?”
“I would say yes, but, knowing him, he’d probably like it.” Geto remorses, rubbing the back of his scolded lover to soothe him.
“I could always tranquilize him.” Shoko deadpans. Despite her drunken stupor, it wasn’t a half bad idea.
“Cootie shot.” Shoko catches you in the middle of a conversation with Nanami. It takes you a second to register what she’s talking about, but the interruption gives you an idea.
“I mean, I was starting to get thirsty anyways.”
“Me too.” You took his hand and led him to the kitchen, taking note of just how big it was compared to yours. And warm. While your hands were typically frigid, Nanami’s provide solace.
You settle yourself on the kitchen island, letting your feet dangle off the edge. Nanami plays bartender, grabbing two shot glasses from the cupboard and setting them next to you on the island. “Pick your poison.” You ponder momentarily, but select a tried and true. “Shot of vodka.” He pours the shots and hands you one, placing his glass in the air. Your glass joins his as you toast to being caught, once again, under the mistletoe. “Cheers.” Once the subtle burn of the shot wore off, you took initiative to ask a question that had been plaguing your mind ever since you arrived. “So what made you decide to come tonight? I thought you didn’t do parties.” Nanami’s face turns serious for a moment, retreating from the relaxed demeanor he had come into during the night. “I was told you’d be here.” You’d blame the everpresent blush on your face from the liquor, but it was all too obvious what the real cause was.
“Do you want to go somewhere else? Be able to actually talk away from all…” You motion to the party and its attendees, “-this?” He takes you up on your offer, helping you get down from the counter so you could find a place more secluded. There’s a small guest room at the end of the hall connecting to the living room, near enough to not draw too much attention during your absence.
Once you shut the door, you join him on the bed. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you left, and I missed you… and I had no fucking clue what to do about it.” He starts to ramble as you take his hands in yours, hoping to soothe his racing thoughts. You look him in the eyes, let him have your full attention. “What can I do for you now?”
“I want you so fucking badly.” And you can see it in his eyes. Everything about you has him under a trance.
“So show me.”
He held you close, but with care, like you were the most delicate thing to exist. Scared that you’d shatter into a million shiny pieces if he were too rough. And much like the first kiss, this one was soft. You could feel his heart going a million miles per hour when you rested your hands on his chest. He was holding back, scared to ruin what was going so perfectly. You deepen the kiss, moving your hands up to play with his shirt collar. Emboldened by your advances, he hooks his fingers in your belt loops to bring you as close to him as possible. He moves a hand to run through your hair, pulling gently. You give a sigh of approval into his mouth and it drives him wild.
A knock on the door breaks the two of you apart. You mouth a simple “Sorry” as Kento gets up to investigate.
‘Can I get you kids anything? Some water or a snack maybe?” Satoru calls from the other side of the door. Nanami gets up and straightens himself, throwing you an apologetic look. He opens the door and leans on the frame, daring Satoru to comment. But Gojo isn’t stupid, taking note of the new wrinkles on Nanami’s shirt collar and the disheveled state of your hair. He throws Kento a cheeky smile. “Glad to know the two of you are having fun.” Kento rolls his eyes and shuts the door. He pulls you up off the bed and into his embrace, resting his head in the space between your shoulder and neck. He whispers in your ear, soft enough so the man on the other side of the door can’t decipher. “We’d better get back out there. God knows what rumors Satoru will be starting if we stay here any longer.”
The night was winding down, and you all found yourselves gathered around the fire pit on the patio. You sat on one of Nanami’s legs, and settled into him. Nanami wrapped one arm around your waist to keep you anchored to him. HIs other arm rested plush on one of your thighs, kneading the flesh softly. The glow of the fire illuminated your surroundings, and you could just barely make out a single bushel of mistletoe tied up near one of the patio banisters. You nudged Kento, raising your brows as you looked up at the plant of topic.
Nanami picked up on your cue and gently moved the hand on your thigh up to cup your cheek.
But something felt different about it this time. Not that the others were unwanted, but there was less pressure with the kiss. An organic expression, something just for the two of you. Sickly sweet, yet everything that dreams were made of.
“Not even prompted this time.” Gojo elbows Geto, drawing his attention to the pair of you. “Guess Operation: Under the Mistletoe worked!” Geto just crosses his arms and smirks, ready to watch the mini-circus about to happen from his revelation.
“Satoru, this-“, Utahime motions at his general Gojo-ness, “is precisely why we don’t let you drink. One shot and you’re done for.”
“I can still tranquilize him.. just saying.” You might just have to take Shoko up on her offer at this point.
And as Gojo divulges into the inner workings of the ‘operation’, you can’t help but laugh to yourself. It seemed everyone was privy to the fact that you and Kento liked each other except the two people involved. You hope Nanami can see the humor in the situation. But in all honesty, he’s just relieved that you reciprocate feelings.
As the night drew to a close, you prepared yourself to make a quiet exit. Satoru and Suguru were entangled in each other and passed out on the living room couch, and Shoko was helping Utahime nurse a bottle of electrolyte solution in the kitchen. You found yourself curled up into Nanami on one of the recliners, resting your head against his chest. He played with your hair, occasionally tucking the pieces that would fall in your eyes behind your ear. If you didn’t get up now, you’d probably never leave. You tap Kento’s leg to cue your departure, and he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you back into him. “Stay here?” There was a slight whine in his voice, not wanting to have to give you up yet. But it was nearing dawn, and you were ready to recline in the comfort of your own bed. Let sober thoughts prevail tomorrow. “At least let me walk you home.” You only lived a couple blocks away, but decided to take him up on his offer to escort you home. It was still dark outside after all.
Shoko sends the two of you off with a simple salute, and motions for you to text her once you get home safely.
Snow coats the street, freshly fallen and devoid of impurities. Your footprints are the first to break the layer of snow. The walk home is quiet for a bit, only accompanied by the sound of snow breaking below your feet. Kento helps keep you steady as you wane off the last bit of a buzz you had worked up during the night. He’s also the first to break the silence. “I had a lot of fun tonight.” His voice is soft, speaking out of earnest. It was nice to see him be so organic with you, the awkwardness at the beginning of the night a mere glimpse of the past. ”Yeah, we should do it again.” You give him a quick smile and squeeze his hand. Gojo had suggested a New Year’s Eve party earlier in the night (no covert mission involved this time), so there was ample opportunity to get to see him again. Get to be with him.
The rest of the walk home returned to quiet. He stops in the middle of the sidewalk in front of your place and turns to you, making sure he has your full attention. “I really did miss you, you know.” The cold winter air only aids in the blush tinting your cheeks and the tint of your ears. You give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, but he holds on to you for a bit. His broad frame engulfs you into his chest, not quite ready to let you go. But all good things must come to an end, and you see him off on your porch.
“I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve, Kento.”
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
Once you got inside your house, you nearly passed out on the couch, drained from the events of the night. You sent Shoko a quick text to let her know you’d made it home safe, and let yourself fall asleep.
a.n.: this was supposed to be out on christmas (oops). also me struggling not to write 'y'all' instead of you/you all- i am born and raised in texas, it's like breaking muscle memory for me ;-; also i needed this OUT of my drafts, could NOT keep looking at it
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
PROMPT: bodyguard!toji / afab!reader
Toji leans into the doorframe, eyes scanning you from toe to head as you wring your sopping wet hair dry from some crazed fanboy who accidentally dunked a bucket of whiskey on you. Definitely not the best way to go about impressing a gal you supposedly idolize. Toji has had a few blunders himself when it comes to picking up woman if anyone can believe it--actually, you can, he recalls, but you mean it in jest--and he can't help but feel sorry for the punk. You don't impress easily, and that's a surefire way to permanently ruin any chance of scoring with you at all.
Leaves him more room to gamble with you, though. But after a certain point, he realizes he doesn't want to keep danicng around the bush and actually wants to confess. He never gives a flying fuck about rules. Most can be worked around, bent like a rusted wrench or cracked like a wish bone. They're only there for some level of regulation. The rest are left up to . . . interpretation, or something.
"You don't have to be here all the time, you know," you comment, eyes rolling to meet Toji's. You appear just a bit intimidated, but that's not the goal here. His purpose is to make someone feel secure, for goddamn fucking once in his life.
"Just want to make sure you're alright before I clock out," Toji grunts, "I won't overstay my welcome if you don't want me to be here."
"It's nothing like that," you begin, as you secure your hair in a towel wrap. You're clad in your robe since the fancy designer clothes you were just in got drenched by all of that whiskey, and you sent them off to get dried off and back good as new. You don't want to mishandle any of your nice keepsakes from your photoshoots, so you leave it up to a professional who is better equipped to handle delicate designs.
"It's just . . . don't you have anyone at home? You know? A wife?"
"I did. She died, sometime ago."
You clamp your mouth shut, as if you want to put your foot in your mouth.
"Oh. Um, so you live alone?"
"Yeah. Just me. " He might be lying by omission but you don't have to know absolutely every fuckin' detail about his life, and you honestly don't try to pry that much since you just learned his wife is no more.
"Well, there's a lot of room where I'm at. As you can see," you gesture to the vacant estate you've occupied since you started this gig. "I just don't get a lot of company. Unless it's the unwelcome kind. You know--like paparazzi."
"Hm. Am I in the 'welcome' category?"
"Of course! That's why you should stay. That's if you really don't have anywhere to go. All this time I keep thinking you stick around all the time because you need the money. I get it, but you should worry about your folks at home."
"Well, I appreciate the offer, princess. If you really want me to move here as a live-in protector, I can."
"It might be good for us both. Before you grab your things and settle in, why don't I make you some dinner?"
"I won't refuse the offer," Toji says with a smile.
★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★
Is it awkward to let your assigned bodyguard live with you? Maybe, but maybe it might be beneficial for you both. He’s getting some company. You’re getting some company. A quid pro quo as they call it.
After dinner, Toji does bring his things, which isn’t much. He doesn’t explain much about his background and you don’t ask. Nobody likes feeling cornered. Toji can open up when he feels comfortable enough to. You’re just glad he’s comfortable enough to make this a permanent occupation.
As you rest on your fluffy feather bed–yeah, feather bed!--reading some book you swiped off of your bookshelf you’ve yet to finish, Toji enters your room. You glance up just as you’re about to flip the page, which you’re shocked about because the book you’re reading isn’t a page-turner, hence why you haven’t finished it yet. But as you take in the sight of a shirtless Toji, big bara muscles and all, just as you may have fantasized about in your head while you needed to get off . . .
Eheh. Well. This is going rather well!
This might’ve been your worst idea yet. You think you’re over it, but then Toji approaches you until he stops at the edge of your bed, glancing at the spine of your book.
“Tales of Woe? Never thought you were the sullen type. You always seem so happy.”
You shrug. “Eh, it’s not something I’m actually that interested in. This book is just a lot of flowery garbage.”
Toji laughs. “Seems like most literature is these days.”
“No kiddin’,” you agree, and then shuffle to make some room while gesturing to the new spot. “Sit.”
“You look gorgeous in that nightgown. Like a Victorian heiress,” he comments as he settles next to you, and you shift a bit in your spot.
“I–thank you?” you stammer, unsure of how to react to that comment. Or to the fact that a shirtless Toji is sitting on your bed. And oh shit, he’s just wearing sweats. If you don’t know any better, he may as well just be going commando in those sweats because you can see something sticking out.
Gods, you know they say confidence is quiet, but man is that thing huge and you’re suddenly more curious–
“--Why’re you staring at my lap? Would you rather sit there instead?” Toji inquires, and you yelp as you feel yourself being lifted like you’re just a bucket of feathers and you’re seated in his comfy lap as opposed to your comfy bed. And you can feel his erection sticking up between your ass.
“I–!”
“You’re beautiful, Princess.”
Are you dreaming?
You must be making this up . . .
“Do you not want me to–?” he asks, resting his hands on your hips, grip gentle. Comforting. Secure.
You flush a deep scarlet. “Of course, I just, you know, need a–minute–!”
But a minute you do not get because as soon as he hears yes, his lips suction on your neck like an octopus’ sucker. Leaving deep marks behind, and you can’t even say no, you don’t want to say no. He rests you on your back as he continues to puncture heated kisses along your neck and collarbone and you let yourself surrender. You want this, you so definitely want this. Toji’s gorgeous, Toji’s single. Toji’s widowed, specifically, but now you can fill the void if that’s what he wants.
“Fuck, Toji—!” you moan as your legs stretch out and hook around his neck, hanging a bit loose as he noses your pussy. He inhales your scent, and the intimate smells of you invigorate him. His mouth opens wide as he sighs in delight, before descending on you.
His tongue pushes past your pretty pink pussy lips and you almost squeak from embarrassment. You must feel like a virgin because you haven’t been active in so long. Your last ex can’t even touch your nerves the way Toji just did in one swift movement and he hasn’t even started—
“—oh, fuck,” you’re running out of vocabulary—that’s a first. Even in bed you’re a rambler but none of your partners ever minded and Toji definitely doesn’t appear to be an exception. His tongue works magic on your pussy, running between them and hitting that little nub of hundreds of nerves. You can’t take it. You can’t take it and there’s still much fun to be had. You can feel the slick of your arousal squelching with his saliva. It’s lewd and disgusting but so fucking hot that you feel your legs tightening around his neck. You pull him in closer into your pussy until his nose grazes your trimmed hairs.
“You better not stop,” you warn, and as if to taunt you, Toji brings a finger to rim your puckered ass. “Oh my God, Toji!”
He chuckles, and the sound vibrates against your clit and you whine from how unfair this is.
“Don’t worry, Princess. We’re just getting started. I’m here to take care of you and this perfect pussy.”
Toji’s finger continues to play with the rim of your ass as he eats your pussy, focusing on your clit. The way his tongue curls against the sensitive skin, makes you want to thrash against the bed but you try to relax into it. It’s been so long and every time he touches you it feels like lightning surging through your body. You feel like something deep within you has awakened after being dormant for so long, and you want to erupt, you want to break free like a dove in a age.
“Easy, Princess. I promise I got you.”
He does, you know he does, and you let yourself be whisked away by a man sworn to protect you.
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
"If I buy a car, will you take me on late night drives?" - Part 2
Jake Sim x Fem!Reader. Where 2 neighbors befriend one another because of his dog, and she doesn't have any friends.
Part 1.
TW: LOTS of fluff, Isolation(?), mentions of being a lone(r), mentions of parent death
You were very odd indeed. It’s not like anything was really wrong about you, just social cues and norms weren’t your expertise and so you avoided it as much as you could. Growing up, your parents sheltered you. You remember how your mother would brush your hair at her vanity and express her unconditional love for you. How you were her precious doll and she needed to protect you at all costs. Your father loved to paint with you, every time you had painting lessons or piano lessons he would sneak in and join you, praising how his little Princess was doing so well. They were all you needed in life. When you told Jake this you avoided his eyes and he could see the tears start to spring in the corner of your eyes. He never pushed you.
He learned you were 2 years older than him and you actually went to school and graduated with a Master’s in Architecture. He was always shocked when you mentioned little facts here and there, especially your age as you seemed to be like this lost child, always curious and not aware of the dangers of the world. He had built this incredible sense of wanting to protect you always, and longing. It had been 7 months now and he was feeling himself fall deeper and deeper every time you were around. He just didn’t know how to break that barrier he knew you put up.
“Do you have any other dreams?” he asked you. The two of you were sitting next to each other drinking beer on your balcony. It was late at night and the moment Jake got home he ran straight to you wanting to just soak in your existence.
“Hmm, yes. I have them here, hold on!” You quickly got up and ran inside, he watched as you scurried around looking in a drawer before finding a small journal. It looked extremely worn out so he figured it must be pretty old.
“My dad gave this to me on my 10th birthday, it was right before they got in their accident. He told me it was a dream journal and I’ve been writing in it since,” you held it out to him and he took it from you opening the first page.
Sell my first painting.
On this very day October 23, 2017 I sold my first ever painting to Keith Boulder. Mom and dads longtime partner. Thank you, Keith!
Move out of the Estate.
On this day January 1, 2018 I am moving out of the Estate. Jonah said it would be good for me and he helped me make arrangements to leave. I’m going to miss everyone but I can’t stay here anymore. Everyday I’m reminded of them and I need to get out before I drive myself mad with grief. Here’s to the next…
Play Bingo at a Casino.
Get my license.
I realized something: I hate driving!
Own a pet snake.
I got a snake. It somehow escaped. Don’t know where it went. Lesson learned: don’t get a snake.
Touch a cloud.
Make a new friend.
Her name is Layla. And Jake.
Have my first kiss.
Go to Paris.
Paris is a lot dirtier than I thought it was going to be, the people are pretty mean too. Was a bit disappointed but the Countryside was beautiful and next time I’ll just spend my time there.
Fall in love before it’s too late.
‘Fall in love before it’s too late’. Jake looked over at you and saw you looking out into the City. He could easily check this off for himself, but this was your dream and he hoped he could fulfill it someday just like he did with some of your others.
“You lost a snake in your apartment?” he asked.
“Yeah, it just went poof! Gone,” you shrugged.
“How?” he raised an eyebrow, suddenly looking around scared the snake would show up now and attack him. That’s just his luck.
“I don’t know. It’s been like 3 years, I never see mice or rats around the place so I assume it’s doing well just…being a snake, I guess,” you said.
“You guess? You mean to tell me it could still be alive in this building?” He couldn’t believe it.
“Hey, the risk you made when moving in,” you shrugged it off.
“Yes, a very strange neighbor and her lost snake was something they must have forgotten to mention,” he said, making you laugh.
“You are very much welcome!” You smiled, finishing off your beer and taking his and drinking his as well.
“And she takes my things!” He liked to joke, you always laughed at his jokes and it was better than seeing you cry so he wanted to make you laugh as much as possible.
“Hello??? JAKE!!!!” Suddenly the two of you turned and looked towards your door. You both could hear banging and his name being called by voices you never heard.
“Oh, shit!” Jake quickly got up and walked out into the hall, you soon followed suit.
“Ah, there you are!” One of the men said.
“You lived there? And we have been banging on this stranger's door! Oh I’m so sorry to whoever lives there,” one of the other’s said.
“What are you guys doing here?” Jake asked, suddenly opening his door for them to go inside.
“We wanted to surprise you, wait, so you do live here?” The other said.
“Oh! Are you Y/N?” One of the guys pointed at you, realizing you were present.
“Oh, so you DO exist, we were starting to think Jake was seeing things,” the other jokes.
“No, you’re seeing things. I don’t exist,” you played along giving them a sly smile.
“Guys, this is Y/N, and Y/N this is Sunghoon, Jay, and Heeseung,” Jake introduced.
“Jake talks about you all the time,” Jay said.
“He literally doesn’t shut up about you,” Sunghoon chimed in.
“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Don’t mind them, they can be annoying,” Heeseung came over and held his hand out for you to shake. You gave him a fist bump instead, causing a bit of confusion.
“You can’t just show up unannounced, next time call or something,” Jake said as everyone ushered into his apartment. Layla was with you the whole time and you silently took a seat on his couch just watching Jake and his friends.
They began rummaging through his kitchen looking for things. They brought things to make dinner and Jay looked like he knew what he was doing so you trusted him for now. Jake almost forgot and looked around suddenly before spotting you on the couch. He gave you an apologetic smile and you smiled assuring him it was okay. He really did not want his friends scaring you off.
“So, Y/N, how’s our boy Jake over here? Is he treating you right?” Jay asked and Jake mentally face palmed.
“Oh no. He can be quite annoying sometimes, like for instance he doesn’t leave me alone,” You started off and Jake’s eyes got wide.
“Hey! I can say the same to you, Missy! You literally wake me up sometimes so I can drive you around, guys she doesn’t drive so I have to drive her,” Jake defended.
“Yeah, but you promised me you would and so you have to no matter what,” You said back.
“You’re just as clingy as I am! Guys yesterday I was in the shower and she literally just came in without a hi or hello! Just barged in while I was taking a shower. Who does that?” Jake said.
“I told you I just found out Betty White died and I was grieving!” You defended.
“She died years ago!” Jake spoke up.
“Wow, you two are cute!” Heeseung said.
“Are you sure they’re not married?” Sunghoon whispered to his friends.
“Mhm, tell me more, Y/N, how he is! Love to hear it,” Jay nodded as he was chopping up some vegetables.
“What else is there? Jake is my best friend,” you shrugged and Jake immediately got soft. “He doesn’t leave me alone but I like it. I got to him because I want to be around him. He brings me food and paints with me, he drives me around because he knows I don’t like to drive. I know I am not that easy to get along with and I’m very weird. I don’t know how to talk to people and he doesn’t judge me. He’s always nice to me and makes me laugh. He eats meals with me and lets me play with his dog. When he has a hard day he doesn’t complain and still comes and hangs out with me. What else is there to say other than he’s the best person in this whole world.”
It got quiet and everyone suddenly stopped what they were doing and looked between you and Jake. Your eyes were on Layla as you petted her and Jake’s eyes were on you, soft and full of love. He suddenly walked over to you and grabbed your hand and started walking out, “Be right back!” walking you two across to your apartment.
“Did I overstep? Sorry, I just-” You began to say but Jake cut you off.
“No, no you didn’t. I’ve had feelings for you for a while now, Y/N, I’ve been completely head over heels and I had been so afraid to tell you,” he started to say and your heart skipped a beat.
“You have?” you whispered.
“Yes, yes. I wasn’t sure about you and your feelings but now I am, you like me too,” he said.
“I do? How do you know?” you asked.
“I didn’t until a minute ago, but now I’m sure you feel this spark too,” Jake said. “Let me in. Let me love you.”
“Okay,” and that was all Jake needed before crashing his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and sweet, Jake didn’t want to be overwhelming but it took everything in him to hold himself back. You kissed him back and he kissed you with passion hoping you could feel his emotion. You began to giggle and he pulled back, putting some of your hair behind your ear.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“You made another one of my dreams come true,” you said.
“Oh, love, I plan to make many more of them come true for you.”
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
Revenge pt. 1
synopsis: Y/N is Tengen's fourth wife and a Hashira in training. After a sudden turn of events, she decides to leave her home and divorce her partner(s). Not before enacting revenge.
pairings: Tengen Uzui x Reader
genre(s): Hurt, No Comfort
warning: ANGST. neglect. crying. mention of dead parents. Lying. Insults. whining. betrayal. favoritism. mention of depression. minor grammar mistakes
w.c : 1.6k
I didn’t know he was married.
Not until after he proposed to me.
Tengen Uzui had three wives and no one told me.
Not the master, not the other Hashira, who I considered my colleagues— no one.
But, I didn’t let the new knowledge deter me. I still loved him with everything I had, so I decided to marry him. I became his fourth wife. A title I grew to tolerate over time. Hina, Suma, and Makio were darling women. They always managed to make me feel loved. Invited me to missions and helped with personal errands. I grew fond of them. They comforted me when my parents died from a demon attack and encouraged me to take a break from slaying. They stood by my side during my grieving process and even hit Tengen when he was being insensitive. As time went on, I managed to fall in love with them as well.
The five of us grew to be a family and I couldn’t be any happier.
“I’m home!” I yelled from the door, tossing my weapons to the side.
I waited for the familiar pater of multiple pairs of feet rushing my way, but nothing ever came. I slipped off my shoes and walked into the home. I peeked my head into every room, hoping to catch a glimpse of at least one of my wives, but the estate seemed to be empty. Even the servants had seemed to disappear, which made my heart beat quicken. Worry stripped through my being as I checked the outside perimeter of the house. I gazed at the nearby trees and looked for any abnormal footprints in the snow— there weren’t any. I didn’t find any pools of blood or piles of flesh anywhere on the estate, so I ruled out a possible demon attack. But that left me with more questions than answers; where did everyone go and why was the house so goddamn quiet?
After spending the last hour or so raking through the possible answers to that question, I decided to take bath to ease my nerves. I unbuttoned my uniform and allowed the clothes to fall in a heap by the entrance. I eased into the water and practically moaned from the way it graced my skin. I leaned against the edge of the giant tub and stretched out my arms. My fingertips brushed against something coarse, completely catching me off guard. I looked over to the pile of towels nearby and saw something hidden underneath. It had been a diary. It belonged to Sumi. I eyed the book, carefully considering if I should invade her privacy. But, then I thought back to all the times Suma would snoop through my room and “borrow” my accessories. I guess it was my time to shine.
I flipped through a few pages, lazily skimming random sentences.
Tengen is so handsome!
I love it when he wears his hair down.
He looks so good when he’s shirtless.
EVEN HIS SCARS ARE ATTRACTIVE
I chuckled at that line. “This girl is down bad for her husband, how cute,” I said aloud.
Just when I decided that I had seen enough, I found my name at the start of a new page, in a sentence I never expected to see.
I wish Tengen would’ve never married Y/N.
Shock pierced through me, but I continued to read the entry.
I don’t know what she sees in her. She pretends like she’s some sort of queen or something. She walks around with her head held high and her chest puffed out. Kinda like she owns the place. Lord Tengen calls it confidence, but I think it’s arrogance. When I train with her, she doesn’t ever give me words of encouragement like everyone else. She simply tells me that I would “eventually get the hang of it” or to “better luck next time”. She never compliments me on anything and makes me feel like I’m doing everything wrong. She doesn’t give me hugs or cuddle me after we have sex. I asked Makio and Hina about it. I had to see if I was truly going insane. And they agree— Y/N is a horrible wife. She barely cooks and refuses to do anything but train. From sun up to sun down, this woman is training. Maybe she thinks that training will bring her parents back or something—
I closed the book before I could see more. I tossed it to the side and simply closed my eyes. I paused for a moment and attempted to gather my thoughts.
Suma didn’t like me.
And, according to her, neither did Makio and Hina.
I was a horrible wife because I didn’t show physical affection or give her compliments. To say that statement pissed me off was an understatement. I hated being touched, at least without consent. Whilst living a plus-size body, I noticed that many saw my flesh as some sort of playground. They would point and squeeze on my rolls. Jiggle the fat underneath my arms and slap my ass without giving it a second thought. Strangers viewed me as if I were a dough ball and manhandled me as result. So, with that being said, I was not too fond of Sumi randomly hugging me whenever she had a meltdown. She would bury her face right into my breasts and wrap her arms around me so tight it was almost hard to breathe. As much as I tried to get used to it, I found myself detesting the action altogether. I tried to let her down lightly in the beginning, but she would just cry harder. Hold me tighter and make me even more uncomfortable. And, as for compliments, I was never really given any growing up with my parents. They would simply tell me “no, that’s not how you do it” or “yes, you finally got it right”. They never said “you’re an amazing fighter” or “you’re improving every day”. So, whenever I would try to complement Suma it always came out a little awkward.
What pissed me off about the entry was I had told Sumi about this, before the date it was written. I told them all about my trauma and my rocky relationship with my parents. I made myself an open book to my spouses and that was how they repaid me.
I washed my exhausted being and excited the bathhouse. I placed the diary back under the pile of towels and attempted to put the contents to the very back of my mind. I slipped into my favorite pajama set and tucked myself into bed. It didn’t take long for sleep to wash over me, since I already had a long day.
I was in a state between consciousness and unconsciousness when they stumbled in. I could feel the gentle moonlight sitting on my brown skin. The night breeze made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and shivers spilled down my spine. Yet, I refused to fully wake from my slumber. Something was pushing me to remain silent and half-sleep. I could hear their hushed voices bouncing off the wood walls. Their footsteps grow louder and louder as they grew closer to my room. The door was pushed open, creaking loudly from the action.
“Suma!” Makio hissed quietly. “Must you be so goddamn loud?”
“I’m sorry!” She whisper-yelled. “I just wanted to see if she was asleep.”
“Well,” Hina started, pausing for a minute. “She has that purple thing on her head, so she must be.”
“It’s called a “bonnet”, Hina,” Makio corrected. “She’s wearing her bonnet.”
“Well, she only wears her bonnet to sleep so. . .” Hina trailed off.
“So, she’s asleep,” Suma chimed in.
“Yes,” Makio said.
“That’s a relief,” Suma sighed. “I am not in the mood to hear her boring travel stories, anyway.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Hina mumbled.
“Come on, guys,” Makio tried to lighten the mood. “They aren’t as bad. And, Sumi you don’t get to judge. You suck at almost everything!”
“Shut it, Makio,” the younger wife countered. “You’re just trying to be nice because Y/N always gives you the best gifts.”
“Well. . .” Makio trailed off.
“It’s because she’s so easy to please,” Hina added. “All you have to do is give her some kind of weapon and Makio is putty in your hands.”
“Hey!” She hissed. “That’s not true!”
“If it weren’t for those gifts, you’d hate Y/N as much as I do,” Suma added.
A silence amongst the three women and a tear rolled down my cheek.
“How about. . . we just get back to Lord Tengen?” Hina broke the silence. “I’m sure the bath is ready now.”
The room door closed and I lazily opened my eyes. I had spent too much time here. I had gotten comfortable. These women didn’t see me as their wife, nor did they see me as their equal. Their little conversation was just confirmation of what Suma wrote in her diary— they despised me to varying degrees. Hina seemed to tolerate me, while Suma just outright admitted she hated me. Makio just liked me for what I could give her. It was sad because I knew Tengen would enable them. Make excuses for them and neglect my emotions. It didn’t matter how much he loved me, he still loved them first and they were his priority. No matter how mad I was at that moment, I couldn’t act on impulse. Tengen would smell it right away. He would pay extra attention to me, which would make it harder to leave. I needed him to resume the hierarchy he partook in, so I could come up with a conducive plan.
I could no longer be with someone as flamboyant as him.
It was too much for me.
-----------
Smut in the next part.
Let me know if you would like to be on the official taglist!
Masterlist Part 2
#uzui tengen#lord tengen#kny#kny tengen#kny fandom#kny fanfic#tengen x you#tengen x reader#tengen x y/n#tengen x wives x reader#betrayal prompt#trauma#uzui x y/n#uzui family#kny uzui#sumi uzui#hina uzui#makio uzui#chubby reader#x chubby reader#chubby!reader#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#polyamory#polycule#suma tengen#black reader
807 notes
·
View notes
Text
A New School Hunter's Guide to Old School Monster Hunter: What to Expect
World and Rise have come and gone. These are the games that introduced you to Monster Hunter. But now that you've completed every goal you set out to achieve, there's a big 2025 sized hole in your hunting heart where Wilds may one day be. "In the meantime, why not catch up on the old MH games?" you think to yourself, blissfully unaware of the hell that you are about to subject yourself to.
Below the cut is a SUPER LONG and very dramatic post, intended for new-ish Monster Hunter players who are bored of being good at the game, and want to remember what AGONY feels like— but would rather not jump in 100% blind like I did, doomed to hilarious suffering.
Note: This post mainly refers to MHGU, but much of it applies to older MH games as well. I came from Rise, and have not played World. If I made any incorrect assumptions about games I haven't played, apologies in advance. Let me know if I made any glaring mistakes.
Also, feel free to reblog and add any more info that I missed! I am but one mortal hunter, after all.
Table of Contents, because I wasn't kidding when I said this is a super long post:
Preparing for a Quest
GATHERING TAKES FOREVER
Paintballs, and other things that aren't in the newer games for a very good reason
When the monster attacks you
When you attack the monster
Armor Skills (AAAAAAA!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAGHHHHH!! AAAAAAAHHAGHHAAHGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!)
The Desire Sensor (You Will Grind.)
No but really, you'd better have ~30 minutes set aside if you're planning on reading this whole thing in one sitting. Enjoy!
1. Preparing for a Quest
Many of the conveniences of the modern quest hub layout are nowhere to be found in old school MH games. Sure, you've got an overpriced shop, a smithy, and a quest handler all in one spot. And if you're lucky, maybe even a place to eat before the hunt. But if you want to change your equipment, save the game, or entrust your cat with an overseas trade deal, you'll likely have to do it somewhere else. And that means loading screens.
I'm telling you now, get used to the loading screens. Make sure you know what you want to do and where you need to do it, before you sit there and wait. Our spoiled Gen 5 asses are so accustomed to seamless transitions; the load times are not unreasonable, but the sheer number of interruptions will make you feel like a rabid animal gnawing at the bars of a wire cage. You'll get used to it. <- That's a phrase you're going to see a LOT in this post.
Go to your house to pick out your weapon and armor, and feast your eyes upon the horror: all of the equipment is haphazardly thrown into one box. There are no separate storage spaces for individual weapon types, meaning your sweet precious baby angel, the hammer, has to share menu real estate with the fucking light bowgun (UGH).
You cannot sort armor by head, chest, arms, etc. Want to see how your armor skills are looking? Close the box. Open the start menu. Navigate to "status," then flip through a page or two of normal, healthy stats. Find the armor skills page. Black out for a split second. Feel your heart rate spike, then immediately close out the armor skills, and decide that it's not important right now, and that you'll figure it out later.
Get your items in order. Set an item loadout if you can. Money is tight, and that won't be changing any time soon, so keep an eye on your zenny while you're shopping and smithing. Excess bones and ore are a decent source of cash if you're desperate.
I know I probably don't have to say it, but EAT! Eat something before the hunt! It increases your health and stamina bar and may grant you temporary skills. Some skills are exclusive to food, and can't be acquired via armor or decorations, so try out as many foods as you can. You'll be able to make more dishes using ingredients that you obtain as side quest rewards.
Before you set out on your quest, make absolutely certain that you have everything you might need. This is EXTREMELY important. The main camp is pretty much just there for show. (And for delivering eggs, but that's beside the point.) You cannot change your equipment or refill your items AT ALL once you're out there. If you forgot to eat, too bad, sucks to be you. And whatever weapon you bring is the only one you'll be using for that entire quest.
Alright, time to hunt! Talk to the quest handler, no, not that npc, no, that's not her either- ahem. Talk to the quest handler, aaaand yippee. 1 Star is all gathering quests. Well, at least they'll go by quickly!
2. GATHERING TAKES FOREVER
The first thing you'll notice on your first gathering quest in old school MH is that you slowly. Gather. One. Item. At a time. Maybe two if you're really striking it rich. Please for the love of all that is good, hold down the gathering button. Save yourself some time. Don't be an idiot like I was for more hours than I'm willing to admit.
YOU NEED TO GATHER. You need to gather so much, all the time, constantly. If you're not actively in combat, you should be gathering. If you're not gathering, then you should be moving to another gathering spot in order to gather more stuff. Bring a gathering palico. Hell, bring two. They are The Best type of palico, it doesn't even come close. There is no moment when you should not gather.
I can't stress this enough. Old school MH games will not just shower you with free items. Quest rewards are often pitiful, and it's safe to assume that the trader won't have what you need. Yes, gathering is slow and boring. But that's exactly why you need to weave it into every beat of downtime that the game gives you. GATHER, always. You'll thank yourself later.
You will need pickaxes to mine, and bug nets to catch bugs. These take up precious inventory space, but are well worth bringing to regular locales. If you want to fish and actually obtain something worthwhile (PLESIOTH), then you'll need to craft bait or bring some with you. And if the crafting recipes aren't listed anywhere in game, then gog help you.
There is a chance that crafting will just... not work. It'll consume the materials but spit out garbage instead of what you wanted to make. The odds of this happening can be mitigated by bringing a crafting book with you on your quest, which you can buy from a shop. But that book will take up space in your already miserably small inventory, assuming you brought sensible things along too, like potions. And a map.
Unless you have the locale memorized, you won't know where you are without the map item. In Low Rank, a map is courteously provided in the main camp's rations box, along with some field meds and food. (Don't get used to this kind of generosity. It'll be gone in High Rank and beyond.) Now that you have a map, you'll be able to see where all of the gathering spots are.......... right? RIGHT?????
WRONG. If you want to know where the spots are, you'll have to find them and then dedicate some real-life human brain memory space for that info. In some games, the gathering spots are obvious, with a big question mark that pops up when you can interact with them. In older games... uh... ha. Haha...... yeah. Good luck.
On the bright side, at least the map is good for keeping yourself safe. Y'know, because of the titular monsters. You can see the monsters on the map......... right?
Okay I'm gonna cut straight to the chase.
3. Paintballs, and other things that aren't in the newer games for a very good reason
Craft a pretty pink paintball with a paintberry and a sap plant. Equip it in your item scroll bar, and press that sexy item use button to throw it at a monster. Voila! A pink dot appears on your map. This (and psychoserum) allows you to see the monster's location.
Get into the habit of bringing multiple paintballs with you on every quest. You will miss a few throws. Also, the effect wears off after a few minutes, meaning you'll have to find the monster and hit it with another paintball again in order to keep it on the map. Be mindful of flying wyverns, who are aggravatingly hard to follow without a paintball. That includes some unexpected honorable mentions, for example Mizutsune, Zinogre, and Rajang, who can just... fly to the opposite side of the map. Yeah, I know. Don't ask.
So Zinogre has just taken to the skies. Now's a great opportunity to sharpen your weapon! If you remembered whetstones, that is. They're not an infinite resource, and they're not just automatically in your inventory. You'll have to go out of your way to obtain them and bring them with you on your hunts.
Likewise, I mentioned earlier that you need pickaxes and bug nets for gathering their respective items. What I didn't tell you is that they too are a finite resource. Pickaxes and bug nets can and will break, and you'll have to buy or craft new ones. If you're planning on doing a lot of gathering, eat for skills that reduce the likelihood of your tools breaking. It makes a huge difference.
Pay attention to what locale the quest takes place in. Some locales are hot, like Dunes and... *shudders* Volcanic Hollow. Bring cool drinks with you to hot locales, or else you'll take passive heat damage. Trust me, you do not want to be on fire the whole time you're running away from (and whiffing your attacks on) Uragaan. Ask me how I know that.
Similarly, cold locales will ruin your stamina bar over time. Hot drinks protect you from this stamina drain. Some locales, like Desert, have both hot and cold areas. Which is annoying because the drinks cancel each other out. Keep this in mind.
Don't be lured into a false sense of comfort just because you didn't forget your cool drinks. Because once you get into High Rank, there's a pretty good chance that you won't spawn at the main camp when you start a quest. One day, you will spawn right into a pool of lava, directly in a monster's line of sight, with zero time to prepare. It's okay to be a total chicken and run away screaming. After all, it is a monster, and it will attack you.
4. When the monster attacks you
I almost guarantee that your first old school hunt will leave a bitter taste in your mouth. Not bitter enough to make you instantly hate the game, but just enough to make you want to put the controller down and go outside and maybe even interact with other human beings, which is just as tragic.
Want to get some practice in with your weapon before the hunt? Well, too bad bucko, there's no training area. There may be a so-called "training quest," in which an npc barfs tutorial text onto your boots and then pits you against a real monster in an inescapable arena fight to the death, which is hilarious if you think about the in-game universe implications. Anyway. If you want to learn the in and outs of your weapon, then you'll have to do it the old fashioned way: get out there and get your ass kicked.
Great news! Getting your ass kicked is cheap, easy, and quick. Monsters' attacks will hit you like a cement truck packed with explosives speeding towards a steel wall. Even dumb little attacks like tail slaps and nibbles will take a CHUNK out of your health bar. Good thing you brought potions!
Terrible news! You are extremely vulnerable for several seconds while consuming healing items. Whether you like it or not, you will stand there in place, unable to move at all, glug, then flex your strong beautiful arms for the whole world to admire. And if the monster turns its attention towards you while you're doing this, there is nothing you can do but watch in despair as all of the health you just regained AND then some, gets torn away from you in an instant.
Don't wait until the fights get tough in order to prioritize learning monster's attack patterns. Even early on, only heal when you know for certain that it's safe to do so. Remember, it's okay to run away like a little wuss to put distance between yourself and the monster so you can use your items in peace. Hell, leave the area altogether if you have to. That being said, don't let the fight get too close to the edges of the area. Loading zones always get the last laugh.
Sooo.... hitboxes. They suck. They're bigger than they look, and they're present for longer than they should be. And some attacks have little to no tell or wind-up animation. Some monsters are just a vile conglomeration of both of these problems. (here's looking at you, Yian "You Mother Fucking Son of a Bitch" Garuga). Sigh... you'll get used to it.
If you came from Rise, getting knocked down by an attack will feel EXCRUCIATING. There is no fast way to fling yourself back onto your feet after taking a big hit. You will lie there, recoiling in pain, seething for way longer than you want— and you may even like it after a few hundred hours. Hang in there.
If a strong attack sends you flying into a wall, you'll very likely get stunned. Getting stunned is the single most dangerous thing that can happen, far worse than poison or waterblight or what have you. You can escape stun significantly faster by mashing buttons and wiggling the control stick. And I guess you could also bring the Stun Res skill, but... we'll, um, come back to that later.
WATCH OUT for pin attacks! You may very suddenly get snapped up and chewed apart like a dog toy, and it will be very bad for your health. That's why you should keep your pockets lined with literal shit. Chuck a dung bomb to escape a pin attack before the monster finishes ripping you to shreds. Dung bombs may also convince an unwanted monster to leave the area, which is great for when you'd rather not fight Gravios and Shogun Ceanataur at the same time. Which is all the time.
5. When you attack the monster
Your favorite weapon is not what you remember it being. Moves are missing, or mapped to completely different buttons. "How tf do I vault? Why won't my kinsect go where I want?? Stop shooting pheromone pellets!!!" whines the insect glaive main. "What do you mean there's no shoulder tackle?? How do I get to TCS faster????" cries the greatsword player. "Oh, ok, nothing's really changed," says the SnS main. It's a travesty, I tell you.
All of your movement is clunky. Attack timing is off. New school muscle memory is going to get you carted a lot. But hands down, the absolute most traumatizing thing is that there is no backwards dodge roll. You can dodge left, right, and forward, but never back. As a hunting horn main myself, I can assure you, this is a fate worse than hell. They say you never know love until you've loved and lost. You loved the backwards dodge roll, and soon, you'll know it.
And it gets even funnier if you play lance or gunlance— you can kiss your forward hop goodbye. Need to close the gap? Turn around, aim your squishy butt cheeks at the monster, and hop backwards towards it, expending absurd amounts of stamina in the process. Otherwise, walk slowly and threateningly towards it like the apex predator you are. Oh, and don't bother blocking attacks. It takes too much stamina, inflicts an abysmal knockback, and half of the time, you'll just get hit anyway. Guard and Guard Up are 100% necessary if you plan on using that shield. Good luck obtaining those skills, sucker.
The charge blade is somehow simultaneously more complicated and way easier to play than its modern iterations. The opposite is true of the switch axe, imo. Blunt weapons are stronger, but there's something a bit off about the way they feel. The longsword is the longsword. And as for the bowguns, I wouldn't be able to tell you, because I know better than that.
It doesn't matter what weapon you pick, because either way, you are going to develop a highly concerning dash juice dependency.
Take advantage of every tool the game provides. The usual stuff like barrel bombs, traps, and ballistae are indispensably helpful. But there are other familiar mechanics that are way more useful in old school MH than they are in newer games. That includes invading monsters (DEVILJHO!!), who will indiscriminately attack you AND the monster you're hunting, inadvertently aiding your hunt without you needing to wyvern ride or seek out a turf war. Jump off of ledges to rack up mounting damage in gen 4 games, which may reward you with a free knockdown (if you can mash fast enough)!
Monster's movements are janky, and this is in your favor. Get good at "head sniping" the monster as they turn around in 90 degree increments. Don't get greedy during small opportunities. Remember, monsters can go from t-posing, straight to crushing you to death, with zero wind-up animation.
There are no damage numbers when you land a hit. This may spoil the instant gratification factor of the game for a while. If you're a greatsword main, you will suffer from withdrawals due to Big Number Addiction. But over time you'll realize that it's actually fantastic, because now you're less obsessed with landing the super big awesome attack on the ultra weak spot for maximum damage. Instead, you'll find yourself savoring every little hit you manage to land. It'll be better for your cardiovascular health in the long run.
That's a good analogy for the entire new school to old school pipeline: it sucks A LOT for a long time, then gets really, really good later on once you get over the "Gen 5 stages of grief." Listen, you will have an abusive relationship with this game. It took me 80 HOURS before I could actually say with confidence that I liked MHGU more than I disliked it. Not that I loved it, but merely that I didn't hate it. 80 real life hours. That's... probably not good, but whatever.
There is one thing that I don't think I'll ever learn to love, though. And that's...
6. Armor Skills (AAAAAAA!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAGHHHHH!! AAAAAAAHHAGHHAAHGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!)
Face it. You will never, ever, ever be as powerful as you are in World or Rise. You will not have your maxxed out attack and affinity boosting skills plus the comfy stuff like Flinch Free and Stun Res all at the same time. Not in Low Rank, not in High Rank, and not quite in G Rank either. Here's why.
Skills have tiers as usual. But now, they also have thresholds. For example, you want the skill Speed Eating +1, then you'll need 10 points in the Eating skill. If you're even one point short, then the skill will not activate. But Speed Eating +1 doesn't increase your potion glugging speed... if you want that to happen, then you'll need to add 5 more points, for a total of 15, to activate Speed Eating +2. This is true for every skill, and is way easier said than done.
Some skills will feel nerfed big time, like Handicraft. You'll almost never see purple sharpness without Handicraft +2. On the other hand, Crit Draw is a one tier skill that gives you a flat 100% affinity boost on every draw attack. Which is absolutely busted.
Wearing a single piece of armor will provide a few points towards a given skill. If the armor has slots, then you can slot in decorations to increase the points as well. Slot "sizes" are weird and inconsistent, and the decos themselves typically only add 1 or 2 points per skill. Considering the fact that the average skill takes 10 points to activate, and the average full armor set has maaaybe around 7 slots to work with, decos are not going to be your primary source of skill activation.
Now for another problem. Let's say you want an armor set that has just three skills: Status Attack +1, Constitution +1, and Stun Res +1. Pretty modest, right? Should be easy enough. Well would you look at that, High Rank Nerscylla's armor set gets you the first two, and because Stun Res decos are worth 2 points each, you can just slot the last skill in! Nerscylla's set has 5 slots, which is the exact number you need to get those 10 points in Stun Res.
Great! So you do just that. Except when you check your skill points, you discover that Stun Res has a whopping zero points.
Yeah, so... negative skills are a thing. Nerscylla's armor comes with -10 points in Stun Res, activating the "skill" Double Stun. Which as the name suggests, doubles the amount of time that you stay stunned, and I don't think I have to explain why that's bad. -10 plus 10 is zero. So much for that Halve Stun you wanted so bad.
Not all skills have equivalent negative skills, but many armor pieces and most decos will have negative points. The challenge of set building comes from having to carefully balance and calculate your skill points, to make sure you're not accidentally charging into battle against Agnaktor while at -20 Fire Res. It can be frustrating if you're like me, and you've got swiss cheese for brains and can't handle the math. Fear not, I've got something amazing for you.
Allow me to introduce you to your new favorite website, Kiranico. This website hosts Monster Hunter databases containing literally everything that the games don't tell you, or do really half-ass job of telling you. That includes weapon upgrades, material drop rates, monster hitzones and health pools, and most importantly, armor sets and their respective skills. Being able to view all of this info all in one place makes it SO much easier to theorycraft new equipment sets.
Kiranico will save you from so much grief. Bookmark it and cherish it like your firstborn child.
Alas, no amount of Kiranico homework will make it easier to obtain the materials you want. The Desire Sensor is real, and it demands sacrifice.
7. The Desire Sensor (You Will Grind.)
It's commonly said that the game can sense exactly what you're grinding for, and will go to un-fucking-believable odds to avoid giving you that which you need most. This is the alleged "Desire Sensor."
Now, don't get me wrong, the newer games have moments like this, too. Don't even get me started about the 46 tries that it took me to get ONE Golden Almudron Orb, out of the TWO that I needed in Rise.
But until you get better gear, a single old school monster could take you 15+ minutes. Especially if you're on your own. Monster's health pools are not well scaled for solo players, so chances are, hunts are going to take way longer than usual if you don't resign yourself to getting tripped by a cheater with a longsword. Couple this with some god awful drop rates plus the disheartening quest rewards, and you're in for a loooooooong grind.
I would say you'll get used to it, but honestly, you won't. You'll get sick of it. You'll be shaking Kiranico by the metaphorical shoulders, desperate for any little thing that might speed up the grind. You might even be tempted to pick up a bowgun. Such a lapse in sanity is frightening, but it will pass. Stay strong.
Take breaks from the grind every now and then, or at least have two different grinds that you can switch back and forth between when you get exhausted of one. Since there is no escaping the Desire Sensor, this is unfortunately the only advice I can offer.
Disclaimer: the Desire Sensor is, as far as I'm aware, not a real mechanic programmed into the games. But godDAMN if it doesn't feel real. As anecdotal evidence, here's a small sample of my own suffering. Materials I wanted, the amount of them I wanted, their drop rates, and the sheer number of attempts it took to complete my goal (yes, I kept count.):
Lightning Sac x8 (G Rank Khezu): 15% chance to carve. 18% chance as quest reward. 27% chance as part break reward. HUNTS: 22
Paddock Cream x1 (G Rank Tetsucabra/Zamtrios): 40% chance to obtain two as subquest reward. 25% shiny drop. 25% chance as capture reward. 14% chance as quest reward. HUNTS: 8. I mean, what the fuck.
Monster Broth x5 (High Rank Insectoid Small Monster): 20% chance to carve. 20% shiny drop. SLAIN: >70
Viscous Radiant Mucus x17 (G Rank Nakarkos) 40% chance to gather; multiple gathering opportunities. 18% chance to obtain at least one as quest reward. 18% chance to obtain at least one as subquest reward. 15% chance per tentacle broken to obtain two. HUNTS: 15 (IT'S A 30+ MINUTE FIGHT SOLO. FML)
Was it worth it? Hell yeah! Do I think we should go back to the way things were in the old games? Fuck no! 46 Almudrons haunt me in my wildest nightmares— but at least I didn't feel my hair getting longer playing Rise.
On the bright side, at least the Desire Sensor has a sense of humor, if that last Khezu was anything to go by. Shout out to carving three lightning sacs in a row.
Phew! That about wraps things up.
Don't let this post deter you from trying out a "hard" Monster Hunter game. I don't regret my old school experiences. They've made me a much more patient and observant player, which weirdly enough, has carried over into other series I play, too. I can't say the same about any other game I've played in my life, and that's just one of many reasons why Monster Hunter holds such a special place in my heart.
I hope that by sharing my wisdom, I've saved at least one overwhelmed player a whole lot of headache. The rest is up to you, fellow hunter. Take it slow, and have fun!
Oh, and one more thing: press the dodge button while climbing in order to climb faster. Learned that one by accident 200 hours in.
#monster hunter#monhun#mh#oops. had an autism moment and banged this one out in under 48 hours. lmao#i don't know what compelled me.#i just think we need more text based guides in a world dominated by video tutorials. so uhhh#here ya go!#long post#very long post#lol.
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
First Impressions || Dr Strange
Summary: You have a vision to combine sorcery with science to become an even greater surgeon, you just need to convince Dr Strange to teach you.
Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, foreplay, protected sex, fluff, medical terms/surgery scene
WC: 2.8k
A/N: remember to head over to @dilemmaslibrary and hit 'Get Notifications' to hear about my new fics.
Ever since you graduated Medical School and had seen magic first hand, when Doctor Strange metaphysically broke through your operating room, you became obsessed with merging the two. You couldn’t believe your luck when you found a sling ring in an estate sale on Craigslist but you prepared yourself for disappointment when the package arrived.
“Come on, please be the real deal.” You whispered as you broke through the plastic bubble wrap and felt the cool metal fall into your palm. It wasn’t the greatest fit for your fingers but you managed to slip it on and held it up as you had seen in the many videos available on youtube of the sorcerers in action. “Take me to Dr Strange.”
A few sparks glittered in your living room but they quickly fizzled out and you huffed in annoyance. Taking a calming breath, you lifted your ring adorned hand and with the other repeated the circling motion, imagining the surgeon come sorcerer. “Show me Dr Strange.”
The sparks arced around the room, completing a dark circle as it grew and you squealed at the sight of the bare chested man reading a book in his bed.
“Excuse you.” He muttered as he frowned, looking over the top of the book at you.
“I’m so sorry.” You stammered as you looked around his room instead of being drawn into the smooth muscles that were revealed as he closed the book and placed it on his lap covered by his bedspread. “I, um, didn’t mean to intrude.”
“I hardly believe that.” He stated bluntly. “What do you want?”
“You.” His eyebrow curled up and you cringed with the need to slap yourself. “That came out wrong, not that you’re not a very attractive man, you are. Oh god, shut up…What I mean is…I need you to teach me sorcery.”
His lips twitched with a hint of amusement but then he opened his book again, his dark green eyes skimming the pages quickly. “While I am flattered, I am not in the business of training thieves.”
“I’m not a thief.” You said as you stepped through the portal, the need to defend your honour surging you into his private quarters.
“You have a sling ring that does not belong to you.”
“I paid good money for this.” You argued. “Do you know how many duds I brought before I found this one? Seven.”
“Congratulations. You have tenacity.” He drawled as he rolled his eyes.
“Damn right I do, and I’ll prove it if you let me.”
“Fine.”
“I will come back every night and change your alarm until you…wait what?”
“I said fine. I’ll see you here first thing Monday morning.” He said dismissively, holding his palm up to stop you from interrupting. “And use the front door next time.”
“I’m extremely grateful but Monday morning kind of clashes with my-”
“Do you want my help or not?”
“Yes, it’s just-”
“What?” He growled as he slammed the book shut. “What could be so important?”
“I have a paediatric craniotomy booked in.”
He sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Well, I can’t ask you to change that now can I? That would really make me the asshole.”
“Kind of, yeah.” You shrugged with a smile, hoping to lessen the blow to his ego before you turned back to your portal. “Is that The Senses: A Comprehensive Reference?”
You walked around the portal to the bookshelf that took up the entirety of one of his bedroom walls and reached for the hardback you had wanted to get your hands on for a while. The spine didn’t have a single dent and you tutted to yourself as you realised the treasure hadn’t even been opened.
“Sure, just help yourself.” Stephen sighed as he went back to reading his book. “Not like you need an invitation, apparently.”
“Anyone ever told you that you’re very passive aggressive?” You asked as you took a seat in the dark red leather chair that matched his bedspread.
“They tend to leave out the passive part.” He muttered, but still flicked his finger at the lamp beside the chair and illuminated the page you had opened.
You chuckled to yourself as you tucked your legs up under you and got comfortable in the seat and circled your hand around the portal, erasing it from the room. “I’m starting to think you don’t want me to leave now.”
“Keep disturbing me and find out.”
You pressed your lips together in a tight smile as you ran your finger over them, pretending to zip them closed as you turned your attention back to the book on your lap. You should have felt uncomfortable sitting in a relative stranger's room while he was half naked but you didn’t get to be one of the best brain surgeons, since Stephen’s accident, by not taking risks. It was in your DNA, you couldn’t help that you didn’t have a healthy fear for the dangers around you - no risk, no reward.
A buzz at your hip was quickly followed by an irritating beep that stirred you from your slumber. The crick in your neck ached as you tried to straighten up and found you had fallen asleep in the leather chair, the book waiting on the side table with a bookmark between the pages. The lamp had been turned off at some point during the night and a woollen blanket had been laid across you, by Dr Strange you assumed.
Grabbing the pager on your hip you rubbed away the sleep in your eyes so you could focus on the message running across the little screen before jumping to your feet.
“God, I do not miss that sound.” Stephen complained as it woke him up too.
“Do you miss being a surgeon?” You asked as you folded his blanket and draped it over the chair.
“Sometimes.”
His voice was barely above a whisper and it felt more like a confession to himself than an answer to you. “Where’s your residency?”
“Metro-General Hospital.” You said as he opened a portal in the surgical wing of your workplace.
“What the hell?” Dr Palmer gasped as she rounded the corner and saw the portal leading to his room.
She looked between you and the still half naked Stephen before averting her eyes. “Dr Y/L/N, your patient is being prepped in OR 3. Nice to see you, Stephen.”
“Christine.” He nodded before pointing at you. “Next time, knock. Bye, bye.”
The portal surged towards you and closed an instant after it passed, leaving you in the sterile hallway with a curious Christine whose lips were just beginning to part.
“You don’t have to say anything, nothing is going on with Stephen.” You interjected as you made your way to the operating room.
“I was just gonna say he’s a good person.” She admitted, causing you to pause and turn back to her. “He’s just not so good with people. Be careful, I don’t want to see you hurt when he leaves you disappointed.”
“Wow.” You laughed and shook your head. “Thanks for looking out for me, Doc, but I’m a big girl.”
Your eyes burned from being completely focused on the bullet fragments in your patient's brain, each sliver of metal slowly extracted by your steady hand until you reached the very last one.
“It’s too risky, you could cause more damage by removing that one.”
You didn’t even look at the resident, Doctor Andrews, as you continued to extricate the piece. “I am the attending, thank you very much, and I am going to remove it.”
“Is your fragile ego really worth killing the kid?” He argued and you looked up at the live iMRI guiding you.
“You said it, he’s just a kid and this fragment was pressing on his pituitary gland. Can anyone explain what that means to Mr Know-It-All over here?” You asked and saw an eager medical student raise his hand. “Have at it.”
“The pressure on the pituitary gland would hinder its function limiting body growth, hormone release and cause lifeline blood pressure issues.”
“Gold star for you.” You muttered as the fragment came free without the need for cauterising any bleeds and you dropped it into the metal tray with the rest of the shrapnel. “You can close up.”
The medical student looked like he had won the lottery as he stepped forward and you stepped into the space beside Doctor Andrews, leaning in as you watched the student begin to textbook suture the wound closed. “Damn that fragile ego of mine.”
With the surgery finished and the boy on his way to recovery you tore your gloves and scrubs off, dumping them in the hazmat bin before stepping out of the room and straight through a portal in the floor. Your heart leapt out of your chest as you fell but as quickly as it started, you found yourself landing on the soft cushioning of a bed.
“That was rude.” You frowned as you finally stopped bouncing and found Stephen smirking from the chair you had slept in.
“Consider it payback.” He chuckled and pressed his fingers together as he leant back. “That was an impressive retrieval, but there was no way to know how much that fragment would have affected him if it had been left.”
You crossed your arms defensively and tipped your chin back. “Maybe, but there would have been more risk opening scar tissue and going in a second time when they found he never hit puberty, by then it's too late.”
“I’m not arguing, I would have done the exact same thing.” He admitted as he rose from the chair. “Like I said, I’m impressed.”
You were acutely aware that the roles had been reversed from last night and now you were the one sitting against his headboard as he crossed the room. A part of you was disappointed that he was wearing clothes this time and from the smirk playing on his lips, he knew it too.
“I get the feeling that doesn’t happen often.” You whispered as he reached the edge of the bed.
“No, it doesn’t.”
“You’re not feeling threatened are you?” You teased as he towered over you.
“That’s not exactly the word I would use.” He chuckled, his fingers rising to his cloak and shrugging it from his shoulders. “I must admit, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
Your breath caught in your chest as he leant closer and you were surrounded by his warm spiced cologne. “Any ideas on how to fix that?”
“I have one.”
His lips were surprisingly cold as they brushed over yours and you reached up to run your fingers through his hair and pull him closer, deepening the kiss as your tongue caressed his. Your head fell back with a decadent sigh as he made his way down your neck, his short shaped beard teasing your skin and sending goosebumps erupting across your body.��
“This isn’t exactly how I imagined our first lesson would go.” You said breathlessly as he unbuttoned your work blouse and bared more of your skin to his touch. You were trying to return the favour but Stephen had more layers than you could understand. “Why are you wearing a hoodie and a jacket?”
“I just got back from Siberia.” He answered as if it were completely normal for him to cross the globe twice in a single morning, but for him it was.
“That explains your lips.” You murmured as you ran your thumb across them. “I didn’t want to go all Doctor on you.”
Your core clenched as he winked up at you. “There’s always role play, but maybe another time.”
“Hmmm, yes, sir.” You grinned back. “Now can you ‘poof’ your clothes off already?”
“Doesn’t quite work that way, sweetheart.” He said as he leant back and pulled the layers of shirts over his head.
“It will when I master it.” You promised, tugging his belt away so you could pull his trousers over his hips.
Whatever witty remark he had on his tongue was forgotten when you wrapped your hand around the silken skin of his cock and stroked him, his own hands making quick work of your bra. Your lips parted with a soft moan when he sucked your nipple into his mouth and rolled his tongue around it skillfully.
“Do you make a habit of spying on surgeries?” You asked curiously before his fingers dipped beneath your panties and you lost all ability to speak.
“No, you were the exception.” He whispered in your ear. “I wanted to see who I was getting involved with. I didn’t expect to find myself so enthralled, it’s quite frightening.”
“The infamous Stephen Strange fears me?” You teased, grazing your teeth over his racing pulse before he pushed you back on the bed and pulled your scrub pants off your body.
“I’m not afraid of you.” He growled as he knelt between your spread legs and trailed his darkened eyes over your body with a hunger burning in their depths. His fingers disappeared into a small portal before pulling out a condom that he rolled down his length before teasing your slit with them. “I’m afraid of what you’ll make me do.”
“Why is that?” You asked as you hooked your legs around his hips and drew him in closer so his hard length rested at your entrance.
“Because I won’t be able to say no to you.”
His fingers laced with yours before he pinned your hands above your head and your back arched as he rolled his hips, his tip easing through your wet folds too slow for your needs.
“Then don’t say no, Stephen, just fuck me already.” You begged as you looked up from your vulnerable position.
His eyes fluttered shut as he gave in and buried himself in your core, indulging himself in the sweet sound of your moan. “Shit.”
Your pussy clenched at the sight of Stephen losing the tight grip he had on his control and let himself fall completely into the moment, even his hair that was always combed back perfectly came free and tousled with every thrust into you. Your wrists fought against his hold, your nails looking for purchase across his back but he grunted as his grip tightened and he fucked you harder.
“Oh god, that feels so good.” You mewled as his angle changed and his pubic bone applied pressure to your clit when he bottomed out, waves of pleasure erupting from the epicentre.
The hold on your hands disappeared as he moved to hold your waist, pressing gently against your stomach with one hand but the pressure within your walls exploded from the touch. White hot lightning flashed across your eyes and your nails raked down Stephen’s back as your orgasm ripped through your body and your pussy gripped him like a vice. His head fell to your shoulder and his deep moan reverberated through you as he was overcome and he spilled his seed into the condom, your pussy massaging him through his release and milking every last drop.
Stephen collapsed to your side, rolling onto his back as his chest rose and fell quickly while he caught his breath. You turned to your side, propping your head on your hand as you took in every feature, including the extremely full condom he was reaching down to remove.
“Been a while huh?” You joked as he tied it off and dropped it through a portal to what you assumed was a rubbish bin.
“There’s not exactly a lot of down time between saving the world.” He shrugged. “I am particular about the person I want to share my bed with.”
“Colour me intrigued, I need to hear this.”
“Well, first, she has to be smart.” He said, his finger trailing lightly along your thigh and over your hip. “Secondly, sarcasm, that’s a must.”
“Of course.” You smirked, his finger continuing its path over your waist and between the valley of your breasts. “What else?”
“She would have spirit, others might call it pestilence, but it’s an unyielding eagerness.” He smiled, his finger tipping your chin back so he could lean in closer. “Does that sound like someone I might know?”
“24 hours ago I would have said no.” You giggled, the sound foreign to your own ears. “I don’t think I’m pestilent.”
His lips silenced any further remark as he pulled you against him and deepened the kiss to reignite the fire in your core. Pulling away breathless, he ran his thumb over your swollen lips and smirked. “I said spirited.”
#dr strange x reader#dr strange x poc!reader#dr strange imagine#dr strange smut#Stephen strange x reader#Stephen strange imagine#Stephen strange smut
535 notes
·
View notes
Text
Some Thoughts On First Pages
I have this theory that you can identify a great comic from its first page, or first two pages really since frankly that’s how most of us end up reading these things, in physical. The first page is an opportunity to not only draw the reader into the narrative of a comic but to make a thesis statement about the broader comic. First impressions have a lasting impact in the mind, the best comics creators know this and use the prime real estate of the first page (or two) to hook the audience right off the bat. I’d like to go over a few examples to illustrate what I mean, starting with New X-Men by Grant Morrison.
New X-Men #1 By Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely
I’m vaguely aware that Patrick (H) Willems talked about this page and how excellent it is in his video One X-Cellent Scene - It's Time For X-Men to Evolve, I haven’t seen the video but I would feel remiss not to mention it since Willems no doubt discussed this brilliant page with more insight then I will provide. That being said I will still try and give my thoughts on what makes this page so instantly iconic and what it says more broadly about Morrison’s New X-Men.
New X-Men was my second X-Men comic, after reading Joss Weadon and John Cassaday’s Astonishing X-Men, and let me tell you that the second I saw this first page I knew I was in for something special. First off Quitely’s art is just spectacular, the composition is one thing but my god is it just a beautiful page overall. There’s just something about this page, something indescribable for me, something that just makes me want to frame it and hang it up on my wall. In one page Morrison and Quitely give glimpses into the characters of Wolverine and Cyclops (alongside the new character of Ugly John). Morrison and Quitely also show off their bold new vision for the X-Men in this page. The sentinel being a symbol of the teams past, while Wolverine and Cyclops’s new costumes are a symbol of this all new all different take on the X-Men. It's forward looking while also being firmly rooted in the franchise's history.
Immortal Hulk #1 by Al Ewing and Joe Bennett
Immortal Hulk #1’s first two pages are simple but say magnitudes, the real thing it conveys is theme. The narration spells it out plainly “There are two people in every mirror. There’s the one you can see. And then there’s the other one. The one you don’t want to." This is the entirety of Immortal Hulk summed up in just two pages. The idea of duality, man and monster, Keter and Thaumiel, Banner and Hulk. Throughout the series this concept of the opposite reflection is brought up again and again, it’s the very essence of Immortal Hulk. This first page is also an excellent example of set up and pay off, the very first page of this comic has a man looking into his own reflection, likewise to reinforce the theme the comic ends with Banner looking into a mirror and looking back at him is the Hulk.
House of X #1 by Jonathan Hickman and Pepe Larraz
Let’s end with another X-Men comic, the franchise redefining House of X #1 by Johnthan Hickman and Pepe Larraz. House Of X #1 opens on a panel of these cocoon-like eggs, then a wide shot of the eggs as far as the eye can see, all the while a silhouette of a man stands in the foreground. Then we cut to a hand emerging from an egg and then to people crawling out of them towards the man. On the next page we get a glimpse of one of the people, a man with red energy coming out of his eyes having his chin lifted up by the mysterious man. The next panel is a shot of the people reaching up to the man, a boldly redesigned professor X, finally the last panel cuts to a close up of his face where he proudly proclaims the iconic line “To me, my X-Men.”
The first time I saw this page I had that same feeling I had with New X-Men #1, I knew I was in for something special. House of X and Powers of X radically redefined the X-Men and it all started here with these first two pages. Larraz’s art is spectacular and breathes life into this bold new world for the X-franchise, it’s simple yet profound. It invites so many questions, what are these eggs? Where are we? What is different with Professor X? And many, many more all within the confines of two pages. The icing on the cake is the invoking of that iconic line “To me, my X-Men.”. This page has become iconic and has been mimicked throughout the Krakoa era many times. It’s truly something special.
I could list many, many more examples of great first pages but I hope by now you get the general idea. First pages offer a unique opportunity for comic book creators to introduce us to their worlds, characters, and themes all within those first two pages. I should clarify that this isn’t a requirement for a great comic, plenty of amazing comics have forgettable first pages but by god is it effective when the stars align and creators craft a memorable first page (or two).
#xmen#comics#x men comics#mutants#comic books#xmen comics#comicbooks#wolverine#xspoilers#new x men#first pages#first page#uncanny x men#incredible hulk#hulk#immortal hulk#house of x#powers of x#hoxpox#cyclops#x men#logan howlett
14 notes
·
View notes
Note
It’s fine if she replaced the coat. It’s just that I think she’s debuted almost 10 new coats in the last few months so it seem pretty excessive, especially when we know what’s hanging in her closet. While she has never claimed to be a champion for sustainable fashion (which is pretty shady anyway) her clothing spending will only blow back on her in the end.
I meeeean... here's the thing.
Let's not all pretend that Catherine isn't a very wealthy woman (or rather, related to very wealthy people who in turn provide her with a very generous bank account).
Her husband just inherited an estate that brings in $24million PER YEAR.
Her parents are worth $67million thanks to her mother's business.
I know that, for us, owning a zillion coats seems unnecessary. But a) they are a drop in the bucket when it comes to how much money she has access to, and b) her job is to literally be photographed, and you know what gets her photo on the front pages - always looked flawless, and you know what helps her look flawless - a zillion coats (& also amazing genetics).
I do also think that Catherine has a system with her clothing. My guess is that every year she has a clothing budget allocated to her - and every year, she spends it. But she ALWAYS buys pieces that can be mixed and matched and that are timeless. We don't really see her out in things that are super trendy - we see her in things that are going to look just as good in 10 years as they do right now. And we see her recycle fairly regularly.
Case in point, we literally cannot tell if the coat she wore today is brand new or a decade old. (& honestly, I'm voting that it's the original coat. When Catherine purchases replicas they're usually in a different color.) Her clothing is kept in impeccable condition and - again - it's timeless.
I think it's so silly when people get bent out of shape about rich people being rich. If we saw Catherine do what normal people do, which is wear the same department store brand puffer jacket or pea coat to work every single day people would say "omg you need to step it up, you're supposed to be representing the monarchy and the country - why are you wearing that boring black coat AGAIN for the 20934th time?"
She can't win. So let her look nice while she gets shit on by Sussex stans and anti-monarchists.
54 notes
·
View notes
Text
On Class in Britain and why the same kind of actor ends up getting our panties in a twist (see Hiddleston, Cumberbatch, Goode, etc...)
Isn't it peculiar that all this adoration and fandoms tend to be about white-cis mostly het (thought admittedly that's the more laxed of attributes) able thin, tall, pale but most importantly coming from riches guys?
You look at a Tom Hiddleston and his first headshots and roles and the wonder has got to be there: "how much time and means were available to him to get his degree from Oxbridge and then decide to do another entire BA on top of it at RADA?"
Admittedly he gets off easy going back historically("just" baronets in his line) when in his league we have Benedict Cumberbatch, whose existence is literally dependant on the slavery his direct ancestors built their empire on in Barbados, and were paid compensation when the end of slavery came to England. Finally his Wikipedia has a full description of this even though when I worked on the essay that took the Downton Abbey series and films as examples of the inhumane social divide the UK depends upon, it was all incredibly well swept under virtual rugs with a vague quote from Mother Cumberbatch advising her son to change his surname in case "they come after you for money" where money stands for "reparations" and considering the luxury of an arts career like the last few Cumberbatches have had is something intrinsically entrenched in wealth and privilege makes perfect sense if you ask me. A councillor in New York carries the same surname and she is Black. Slaves carried the surname of those who owned them.
Let that sink in: there is currently a commissiomer (and Professor at Columbia) in New York who carries the Cumberbatch surname because they are a direct descendant of the Slaves the Cumberbatches owned and owe their fortune to. Stacey Cumberbatch.
So yeah, when people think the UK is not the US, they Invented class and the divide that come with it. It is so crucial to come from a family that can afford you connections and the luxury to work for nothing while never risking bills or rent going unpaid.
And I guess what I'm trying to say is: it's ok for all the fandoms to salivate over anyone, I just think it's important we know why the media propels in front of our eyes the same prototype of Englishman over and over, and perpetrates the production of new pieces of media that casually seem naturally meant for white, rich, het passing people.
The system works like a bottleneck for privilege and I think the SAG-AFTRA strikes also show that: everyone that had some privilege and didn't do anything to average out the system will see their own reduced over time until only the tip of the top remains. And "eat the rich" is going to be another post but you get the gist.
That is to say, next time I go to Insole Court (the Victorian house where a Lot of A Discovery of Witches was filmed, including Matthew's "rooms at Oxford") will I touch every single book of the reading room because likely I will have touched something Matthew Goode touched when he was there filming? Sure.
I also do know that house was paid for by coal miners who actually died in a tragedy in the mines owned by the Insole family and that admittedly I find the only decent way to keep real estate built with the blood of people can just be that: give that back to the people.
It's about educated choices, that's what I'm trying to say.
Fun fact: I started watching a discovery of witches because after filming the essay at Insole Court, wanting to bring down the bourgeoisie, I learned the show was also filmed there. So i went and found it and now I have another white, pale, lanky, English twink to lose sleep over just because he's been given a character created by the mind of a woman who dreams enough, possibly because unfulfilled in some part of her life -because when we're happy we go out, we don't vomit pages over pages let's be honest -.
If none of those elegant white British men who embody the characters we love come from a program that allowed them to raise from the working class... or are anything but white or adhering to a white-er standard (Rege- Jean Page is the quintessential example of this, better than nothing but still, my point)...Maybe we should ask ourselves why, and how is that ok.
Just a random though on a day I wanted to go back to Insole Court for the aforesaid reason.
#adow#a discovery of witches#matthew goode#tom hiddleston#benedict cumberbatch#slavery#classism#class issues#downton abbey#white cis het#sag aftra#sag strike#rege jean page#fanfic#fanfiction#fandom#fanfiction writer
19 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
qwcccccccccccccccc
제목 없음
sanskarampublicschool007-blog
Untitled
merzola
be a part of the love club
robertosven
Untitled
searing-dragon
capax infiniti