#forgive my mood its a 3 AM mood
Text
Redrew some old doodlesheet my teen self drew
It is 3AM I am going onto memory lane, remembering my early years of being a Vaati obsessive, what it was like to be a teenager writing poems towards him, staring at fanart until I fall asleep and doodling him in school 24/7. Even imagining him to accompagny me to school because why not lol.
I posted a lot of art online in that time.
I found this old doodlesheet I did in school while reciting every goddamn line he ever said ingame by heart and priding myself in having that knowledge (I don't anymore lol).
I made a gift to my teenage self and redrew her doodles in my much better skill. Im sure she would have squealed seeing my current artwork :,) my teen self deserves a headpat and a vaati plushie, seriously.
#forgive my mood its a 3 AM mood#no i cant sleep#must reminisce#i recreated the situations in which i drew vaati in 2013#i am listening to music i assigned to him in 2013#i am fully living in memories right now#i remember the 2013 vaati fandom#i am reading what i wrote into my diary back then#i wouldnt wanna relive 2013 ever but a lot of things were less complicated back then#i miss some of the vaati artists i looked up to in 2013 and the community from back then#back then when deviantart was still alive#when i had my vaati art senpais and i felt comfortable enough to gush about him online lollll#well at little bit at least. i prided myself in ´not being cringe´but oh the hypocrisy#cringe but free amiright?#i will maybe regret being so open online later RIP#loz vaati#vaati#vaati the wind mage#vaati fanart#legend of zelda vaati#minish cap#loz fanart#zelda fanart#the legend of zelda#minish vaati#my art
69 notes
·
View notes
Text
"this is not your fault" (jake x reader)
genre: angst, fluff word count: 0.8k requested by nonnie ♡
warnings: crying, mentions of an argument
You check the clock for the nth time this night. 3:32 am. With your throat tight, you turn on your side, somehow unable to find a comfortable enough position on your couch. The guilt has been eating you from the inside for the past two hours.
You're well aware that you're the one who was in the wrong for the whole time. It took you three hours to let go of your pride and stubbornness and finally acknowledge that. All the yelling and mean words you spat on your boyfriend keep running over your mind like a broken record and you have to cover your face with your hands to try and somehow block these thoughts out for even couple minutes.
There are no excuses for your behavior, you know that. No bad day at work, no matter how frustrating, should ever make you snap like that and take all of the increasing tension out on your boyfriend. Jake has always been nothing but patient with you, calmly enduring your mood swings and every tiniest outbursts of yours. Which is why you feel such resentment towards yourself for hurting him this much.
You're facing the backrest of the couch, eyes squeezed tightly as you try to force the tears to stay unshed, so you get really caught off guard when you feel a fluffy blanket draping over your body.
"You're gonna catch a cold, silly," he mumbles quietly, thinking you're asleep.
He carefully tucks the blanket around your shivering body and your heart swells in its size at his kindness. The second that you hear him shuffling away from you, you swing your legs to the side and sit up on the couch, trapping his waist in between your arms.
"Don't go," you let out a whimper, letting all of the tears flow down your cheeks.
And he listens to you. Jake doesn't move an inch, hating to see you suffering so much. He's already used to dealing with your pride, and although he can't say you didn't hurt him today, he hates witnessing you breaking down even more. He can clearly hear the shortness of your breath as you sob quietly, fingers clenching tightly on his tank top.
You stay like that for couple minutes - you clinging onto him with all of your might, face buried in his stomach as his fingers gently comb through your hair. After another moment, he finally loosens your grip on his middle and crouches down in front of you, letting you snuggle into his neck instead.
His lips press to the crown of your head lovingly, hands holding you closely to his chest as your tears soak through his clothing.
"I'm sorry," you mumble incoherently, sniffling between your words. Your breathing comes out sharp and stuttered but Jake's hand still stroking your hair slowly starts to soothe you. "I'm so sorry."
"Hey, this is not your fault alone," he says, leaning his chin on your shoulder before placing a kiss on your neck. "I could've been more understanding too."
"No, this one's entirely on me," you manage to say as you clench your hands on the back of his tank top. "And I'm really sorry, Jake. Please forgive me. I'm never gonna let my frustrations out on you, I promise."
With a sigh, he pulls away and cups your face in between his slim fingers. Your tear-stained cheeks glisten in the dark room and Jake wipes them away with the back of his hand, leaning in to kiss your brow bone warmly.
"I forgave you the second I left the room. I came to check up on you cause you haven't come back to bed, love. If I knew you were here wide awake for all this time, I would've come and get you sooner instead of letting you cry in here all by yourself."
"It's what I deserved, Jake. How do you even still put up with me after all this time?" You ask, reaching your hand out to stroke his cheek softly. "You're so sweet. Way too good for me."
"Don't say that," he scolds you gently before leaning in and pressing your lips together. His kisses are slow and so full of love that you find yourself on the verge of breaking down again. You can feel his fingers swiping underneath your eyes, getting rid of all the tears that have managed to escape your eyes again. "No more crying, okay? Wanna go to bed now? We should probably get some sleep."
You nod your head, letting him wrap his arms around you and lift you up. He pulls you closely to his chest and pecks your head, muttering a quiet love you in your hair.
As all of the previous guilt and self-loathing slowly starts fading away, you catch yourself falling asleep the second your bodies hit the soft bed, safely tucked in Jake's arms.
permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @venividibitchin
#carly's 1k event ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა#1k event: requests ✎#jake sim x reader#jake imagines#enhypen imagines#enhypen x reader
806 notes
·
View notes
Note
I don't normally like make requests from people if it's obvious I'm sorry for my awkwardness.
Anyway you were saying how you were really into Jordan li recently so am I and I've read every single fanfiction or every rant there is about them and I crave more. I have been in a angst/fluff mood and I haven't seen anyone do this idea either. I was thinking thinking maybe Jordan and reader gets into an argument (not really picky about what) and the argument gets really heated (you know how jordan shifts into their male form to Intimidate or get their point across) Jordan shifts into their male form which scares reader (I'm thinking reader doesn't have a good past with angry men) and reader backs away from them in fear Jordan notices and tries to comfort them but reader flinched when Jordan touches them. Reader then asks them to leave so they do but Jordan spends like a week trying to make the situation better.
(I would also like to put reader isn't scared of Jordan more so the action of the blatant Intimidation tactic they tried to use against reader. Reader is angry that jordan would try to scare them even if it wasn't on purpose it still hurt)
Jordan sorta just spends a week following reader around Like a lost puppy trying to treat reader like a absolute queen even if reader won't really acknowledge them until Jordan has an breakdown while drunk coming to readers dorm begging for forgiveness.
Again if its obvious I don't know how to make requests I'm sorry this has just been on my mind for so long.
A/N: this request is absolutely perfect, and exactly to my tastes. thank you for sending it, doll!
WORD COUNT: 4k+ under cut | hurt/comfort and angst/fluff
It’s hard sometimes, knowing when to push and when to just let Jordan be. Not at all a skill you learned over night. You’d gotten good at the push and pull of bringing them out of their shell back when the two of you had just been friends. Better at it than anyone else, at least. It was a slow process, but every second was worth it.
Now on the good days you don’t have to push at all. A hand on their arm. A coaxing smile or two. Any act of connection, no matter how small, enough to make them tell you what’s on their mind. Even if they scowl the entire time they let it out. It’s the letting it out at all that counts. Progress!
Today you miscalculated. It’s been a bad week. Jordan hadn’t dropped in the rankings, but their points took a small dip. They hadn’t been very active on their socials, busy doing work as Brink’s TA. But the point gap between where Jordan sits at #2 in the rankings, and where Andre sits at #3 is still a wide open chasm.
It’d take something truly disastrous to knock Jordan from the spot they’ve held for three years now. But the rankings are more important than anything to Jordan. No matter how gently you try to bring logic into the situation, Jordan gets irritated quickly, accusing you of not taking it seriously. You often wonder how that could be, considering you’re in the top eight yourself, but you bite your tongue and don’t bring it up.
The group had tried to go out for lunch. It was okay at first, everyone making an effort to ignore the storm cloud Jordan cast over the table as they picked at their food. Then Andre had made some type of stupid joke. Not even about the rankings, but enough to make Jordan snap at him. The situation escalated so quickly that Cate had threatened to take off her glove and make everyone shut up. You paid your portion of the bill and dragged Jordan out before anyone could start up again.
And now you’re here, somehow also on the shit list for not being supportive enough. As if being supportive isn't everything you do. Day in and day out.
“I can’t believe you’re taking his side. You don’t honestly think it was an innocent comment, do you?” Jordan snaps, standing up from your couch to pace the length of your dorm room.
“You know how Andre is. He gets sarcastic when he’s hungover, and he was packing a double whammy. He did coke and got drunk last night. He was just a little off. He wasn’t making a real dig at you.” You defend your friend, knowing Jordan will regret what she said at lunch once she’s calmed down.
“Oh, so we’re all just supposed to tiptoe around his highness? If he was gonna be a dick during the entire thing he should have just skipped coming out with us.” Jordan’s eyes narrow in on your expression, the sudden pursing to your lips and looking away. “What?” She snaps.
You take a deep breath at the tone, “Well, Jordie, if you want me to be honest Andre wasn’t the only one who wasn’t on their best behavior today.”
A beat of silence.
You look up and there goes Jordan rolling her shoulders back, eyebrows practically in her hairline and you sigh. You definitely should have brought up her attitude later.
“You really are taking his side!” She scoffs in disbelief.
“Nope. No, I am not, there are no sides. We’re all friends. Friends fight. I’m just trying to remind you that you actually are friends. You can’t just…” You trail off, uncertain.
“I can’t just what?” She throws up her hands, volume raising.
“You can’t act like this every time the rankings do something that isn’t spectacular for you. I know they mean a lot to you but you can’t take the numbers out on the people who care about you.”
“You just don’t get it-”
“But I do get it! We talk about it all the time. Your feelings are completely valid, the way you react to them isn’t. You’ve been giving Andre looks that could kill all week and he didn’t even do anything. If he was a little snappy at lunch, maybe he’s upset that his friend has been treating him like shit over something he barely cares about.”
“Well if I’m so-” Jordan shifts, pitch of his voice deepening, on the verge of yelling, “-fucking awful why don’t you go run to Andre and cry about it together?”
He only takes two steps towards the couch before you use your powers. It’s instinct, the way the forcefield bubbles up around you.
Whatever Jordan was going to say next shrivels up and dies on his tongue. The only sounds in the room are the quiet hum your powers make when you use them, and the scared, panicked gasp you make from inside the forcefield you put up to protect yourself from him.
There’s a second where the two of you just stare at each other. Both in shock.
“Baby-” Jordan tries taking another step forward, a small, barely there shuffle of his foot. His face falls when the forcefield gets a little louder, glows a little brighter.
Jordan looks close to tears. It’s that expression that pulls you out of the animal state of fear you’d fallen into. You look away from them. Take a few heaving breaths. Do your best to not mix up faces of the past with your present and future.
Your forcefield flickers out slowly. A concentrated effort.
“Fuck, Y/N, I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to- I would never ever-'' Jordan shifts again. She rushes too fast into your space to kneel on the ground in front of you, her hands reaching for yours, desperate and clumsy.
When you flinch away, moving so you’re perched on the armrest of the couch, still trying to calm yourself down, she’s left with her hands grasping at air. “Baby, look at me. Please? Look at me, I’m sorry I yelled. I’m sorry that I… I’m sorry. I would never hurt you. I fucking swear I wasn’t-”
“I know, Jordan.” You shake your head, trying to stay calm. “Could you please….leave? I… I can’t calm down right now. I’m trying. I know you didn’t mean to… to scare me, but I need you to go.”
“Baby, wait, fuck. Fuck, wait! I’m sorry. Let’s just talk. I can’t leave you alone like this. I’m sorry.” She’s panicking now, throat feeling like it’s closing up.
She doesn’t try to reach for you again, but her hands feel like they’re burning from the effort it takes to keep them away from you. It’s instinct to hold you, to make it better, to pull you closer. She’s always been the place you run to when you’re scared, the shield you step behind when you need to feel safe. She doesn’t know what to do when you don’t even want to be near her.
“We’ll talk later. I’ll… I’ll have Cate come over so I’m not alone. Just.. leave.” Your voice breaks on a sob, and you’re begging her to leave, and that’s what makes Jordan head to the door, legs shaking. She’s never made you cry before.
She’s glued to her phone the rest of the day, waiting for you to call. You don’t.
⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊
You’ve been best friends since you were freshman. You haven’t gone longer than two days without talking in all that time since. No matter how busy you are. No matter how shitty either of you feels. Jordan doesn’t know what to do with the hours of the day that you usually fill.
She breaks on the second day when you show up to class and move to sit by Luke on the other side of the room instead of with her. You don’t even look at her as you walk by.
Class doesn’t start for another five minutes. The teacher isn’t even here yet, and she’s always late. Jordan moves to get up, already feeling like she’s choking on all the words she needs to say to you to fix this, but is stopped by a firm grip around her wrist. She’s about to snap when she realizes it’s Cate, taking up your usual spot in the seat that isn’t up for grabs because it’s Your Seat.
“Don’t make the situation worse. She just wants to go to class. Don’t hound her, Jordan.”
“Hound her?” Jordan’s voice raises, incredulous. “She’s my girlfriend. I need to talk to her.”
“You need to apologize.” Cate bites. “Dick.”
“That’s what I was trying to do before you stopped me.” Jordan speaks through gritted teeth.
“How about you try apologizing after she’s done all her classes? That way, when you inevitably upset her, she doesn’t hole herself up in her room all day crying. And feel bad about missing class on top of it. You know… the way she spent all of yesterday?”
“She cried all day?” Jordan’s shoulders sag, voice getting smaller.
Cate softens, patting Jordan’s hand. “It’s not just about you, and you know that. Triggers like this really fuck with people. And she’s also pissed that she’s triggered in the first place. Let her cool off.”
⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊
He makes it a few hours before he’s trailing after you.
He can tell by the tension in the line of your spine that you know he’s there. But you don’t outright tell him to get lost, so Jordan can’t stop himself from following you around. Even if you don’t want him there.
He sits across from you as you study in the library. Makes puppy dog eyes at you the entire time. He can’t be bothered to unpack his bag. It’d be useless to pretend he’ll do anything besides watching you.
Two hours in, he gets up and leaves, hating the way your shoulders relax as he turns to go.
He comes back twenty minutes later with your favorite foods and drink from the best local coffee shop. You don’t reach for any of it. He’s always loved how stubborn you are, how you stick to your ideas. Your principles. How steadfastly you make up your mind. Right now he’s just a little terrified of that same stubbornness. Remembers when you’d only been friends, that first year of peeling one another open, feeling each other out.
(“I’ll never do it, Jordan.” You’d whispered vehemently, drunk and mad and beautiful.
“Do what?”
“Be with anyone who tries to fucking cow me into submission. It’s fucked. I won’t do it. I’ve had enough of it.”
You’d passed the bottle you’d just had pressed to your lips and Jordan had tried not to think too hard about it, even when he tasted the remnants of your sticky, sweet lip gloss beneath the vodka.)
He doesn’t get up to leave again until you do.
Jordan walks you to your dorm, but trails a few steps behind you. He tried walking directly beside you at first, but your hands brushed together and the look you gave him was cold enough to freeze blood.
So-
-behind it is.
Jordan doesn’t get the chance to say goodnight before you slam the door in his face as loudly as possible.
⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊���⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊
Jordan doesn’t push her luck by trying to walk you to your classes the next morning. She does wake up extra early to buy you the biggest bouquet of your favorite flowers she could find. She leaves them outside your door and goes to class, hoping you’ll at least acknowledge her, the next time you see her.
During your first shared class of the day you walk in holding the bouquet of flowers. Jordan perks up in her seat, holding her breath. You do finally look at her. You make direct eye contact as you throw the flowers into the trash can at the teacher’s desk.
Jordan does not break her pen in half when Andre whispers “yikes” under his breath.
⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊
Two more days and Jordan feels like he’s going insane. He knows you feel worse. One glance at the carefully nonchalant expression you’ve worn all week tells him that. Putting on a mask is nothing for you. That look is the first thing you learned how to do in the top ten.
You’d never hidden the way you felt around him before. Not like this. His skin keeps buzzing with the urge to corner you. Jordan needs the two of you to talk about what happened. But he’s already walking the world’s thinnest line.
And he knows he can’t force you, if you’re not ready.
Another thing he knows: when you’re this upset you don’t clean. Simultaneously, when your room gets messy your depression gets worse. He skips one of your mutual classes of the day and lets himself into your dorm with the key you gave him during first year.
Jordan looks around, wincing at the chaos. You never let it get this bad. Not even during your most soul crushing finals. He starts by throwing away the trash. The tissues you wiped your tears with. The takeout containers. Pages of your notebooks you ripped out, carelessly thrown around the room. You take awful notes in class when you’re distracted. He hates that he’s distracting you.
He wipes down every surface with your favorite scented cleaner. Dusts your books. Sweeps and mops. Changes your sheets and grabs the brightest, happiest color comforter you have stashed in your closet to put on the bed. As he adjusts the pillows he thinks about how often you spend the night at each other’s dorms. Jordan wonders if you’ve been struggling to sleep like he has.
He hesitates, but goes to his room down the hall to grab his cologne. He spritzes it lightly over the bed and hopes you still find the way he smells comforting.
Next is your laundry. He starts up a few loads, irons and puts away the clothes that were sitting in a wrinkled heap on your couch. You’ve always hated doing your laundry.
He’s heading back to your room, a full laundry basket of clean clothes under each arm when you run into each other.
“Are those my clothes?” You ask, forgetting that you aren’t exactly speaking to him in your moment of confusion.
“Yeah… I’m… I was cleaning my room. Doing some stuff. Figured I’d do a few of your loads too, while I’m already at it.” He shoots for casualness, knows he fails miserably.
“You didn’t have to do that.” You say, words stiff and uncomfortable.
“I know I just…” Jordan shrugs, relieved to be standing within a few feet of you after days of silence, and feeling pathetic over how happy something so small makes him. “Why don’t you go get something to eat with Cate while I finish up here?”
“Finish up what?” You ask.
“I still gotta put these away.”
You sigh, wanting the conversation to end, “You don’t have to put my clothes away, Jordan. Or wash them. I’m quite capable of doing it myself.”
Jordan takes a step back when you make a reach for one of the baskets under his arms. “I know that! Just let me do it. Doing your laundry always pisses you off. I’ve got it.”
A battle of wills ignited. You, staring him down. Jordan, trying not to squirm. He wants to try apologizing again but doesn’t know if he’ll only make it worse.
“Please, baby? Go somewhere nice with Cate. My treat.” He puts down a laundry basket (behind him, so you can’t take it) to grab his phone from his pocket, and does something you can’t see.
When you hear the particular chime your banking app makes when you get a Zelle deposit you roll your eyes. You don’t bother checking your phone and seeing how much he sent. You know it’s too much. But if you say anything he’ll just say you and Cate have expensive tastes (which…true.)
“Maybe you can catch a movie too? I still gotta finish up with your bathroom.”
“Jordan.”
“Just,” Jordan shifts, putting down the other laundry basket and slowly reaching out to grab your hand with hers. She could almost cry when you let her touch you. “I know you’re fucking pissed at me. And I know you’re still too upset to talk about it. But…. fuck, please just let me take care of you. Please. I have to do something. I can’t just sit around, after I made you feel like this. It’s driving me nuts. I’m supposed to-”
You stop her, putting a hand on her cheek and sighing, “Okay, Jordan. I’ll go hang out with Cate while you finish.”
“Don’t ‘hang out’, go get dinner. You haven’t eaten all day.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you.” She says, sullen and staring up at you, playing with your fingers while you’re still letting her touch you, the first time in days.
“I’ll head to Cate’s.”
“Nah, head to Luke’s. They’re studying together right now.” Jordan takes a risk, stepping into your space slowly, giving you the time to move away. She leans in and kisses your cheek, gentle. When you don’t move away she can’t help herself, kisses the edge of your lips too.
You don’t kiss her back, but you give her hand a squeeze as you pull away. You stop halfway down the hall before you turn back to look at Jordan. “Call Cate and tell her she better not be fucking Luke by the time I get to his dorm.”
Jordan laughs. Your face is a little more relaxed as you turn away this time.
⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊
On Friday the group goes out to the club. They chose one of your favorite haunts, hoping it would entice you enough to join. You still declined the invitation. Everyone knew you would. They still wanted to try.
You claimed you had a lot of work to catch up on.
“She hates me. She fucking hates me.” Jordan groans into his hands, already three drinks and two shots in.
“Well, let’s not panic.” Luke says.
“Or be dramatic.” Andre snorts, taking a shot of his own. “You two are obsessed with each other. Relax.”
“Relax?!” Jordan tenses, “My girl won’t fucking talk to me. How am I supposed to relax?”
“She talked to you yesterday.” Andre drawls.
“That wasn’t anything. We usually-”
“-Spend every free second of the day together? We know.” Luke teases. When Jordan doesn’t even smile he winces and slides him another shot.
“She’s not even that mad. She’s more upset than anything.” Cate says, cuddling into Luke’s side.
Jordan’s eyes follow the movement and he swallows at the distinct lack of your own weight leaning into him. You always get touchy when you’re tipsy. Climbing on top of him, clinging to him like glue. It’s his favorite part of nights out together. That and the playful booing you guys get from the group.
Andre cuts back in, “I’m serious, dude. Relax! You guys have been together for how long now-”
“Three years.”
“-yeah, exactly. Since the fucking building of the pyramids. You two will be fine. She knows you didn’t mean anything by it. One fight won’t kill you.”
“This wasn’t a fight, though. I fucked up! You didn’t see the look on her face. When she used her powers… I mean, fuck! You know? She was scared of me.”
“You know that’s not true, Jordan.” Luke protests.
Jordan runs his hands through his hair, ruining the carefully slicked back style.
“Let’s just get you another drink. Come on, dude.” Andre wraps an arm around Jordan, hauling him to his feet and pulling him towards the bar.
⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊⬈⬊
You get woken up by the sound of knocking on your door. Loud knocking. You keep your eyes closed, hoping whoever it is will go away. You don’t even want to be awake. Let alone socializing.
The knocking gets louder. Exhausted, you drag yourself out of bed. You glance at your phone on the bedside table as you get up. It’s three in the morning. Now you’re exhausted and pissed.
You stomp over to the door, wrenching it open, prepared to cuss someone out. You deflate when you see who it is. “Oh, hey.”
Jordan is leaning heavily on the door frame, staring at you with watery, red eyes. She looks like the walking dead. “Baby. Fuck, did I wake you up? I thought you’d still be awake. You said you were pulling an all-nighter.”
“I was tired. Just wanted to sleep.” You shrug. “Where’s everyone else?”
“Still at the club, took an uber back. Too fucked up for anything else.” She mutters.
“That’s good, Jordan.” You say.
“You haven’t called me Jordan since freshman year. What happened to Jordie?” She sighs.
Your face softens. “Baby…”
“No, wait, just let me…” Jordan leans her forehead against the door-frame, closing her eyes tight. “I’m sorry. I fucked up big time. I’m sorry that when I get pissed I take it out on everyone around me. I’m sorry that I don’t fucking listen when you’re just trying to make me feel better. I’m sorry I yelled… I’m sorry I shift-”
“Whoa, hey.” You cut her off, shocked. “You shifting isn’t the problem, Jordan. Fuck, come inside, honey.” You say, taking her hand and pulling her inside.
You sit the two of you on the couch, clicking on the light so you can see each other. You move so you’re facing each other, pulling her hands into your lap. “First off let’s set one thing straight. You shifting is never the problem, okay?”
“You got so fucking scared.” Jordan looks away, hair falling into her face.
“Not of you.. Just the fucking… optics of it! I don’t ever want you to be something you’re not. And you’ve got the incredible gift of being able to be whatever you feel like being any time you want to.” You reach out and touch her cheek, guiding her to look at you, “I don’t want you to not do that. I wouldn’t ever want you not to do that, okay?”
“Okay.” She says. There’s a moment of silence, then Jordan shifts. He looks for any sign of fear or hesitation, holding his breath. When he doesn’t see any he relaxes. “But I scared you so bad you used your powers.”
“Yeah, that did happen.” You nod, caressing his cheek with your thumb, “Maybe it’s just a little scary when someone bigger and stronger than me starts yelling like that. Also, invulnerable. Let’s not forget that. Food for thought.”
He closes his eyes, “I’m an idiot.”
“For yelling at me? Yeah, just a little. Don’t yell at me like that no matter what form you’re in. That's always scary. Couples talk. They don’t yell. Most of the time. We can’t be the couple that does that.”
“I’ll never yell like that again. Either form. I promise.” Jordan says, “Can I hold you? It’s been a fucking week. I’m losing my mind.”
You laugh, climbing into his lap and Jordan sighs, wrapping his arms around you as tightly as he can. He tucks your head into his neck. “I missed you like fucking crazy.”
“Missed you too.” You sigh, “Stay the night?”
“You’re not leaving my sight for the next two months.” He laughs, pulling you closer.
“Only two months? That’s fucked up, I thought you missed me.” You tease.
“Shut up.” He scoffs, kissing the side of your head.
You snuggle closer, letting the tension of the week drift away.
“You yell at me like that again and your only hope is being invulnerable, actually. I’ll put you through a wall.” You kiss his shoulder cheerfully.
“I’d do it before you got the chance.”
You burst into laughter and he pulls your head away from his shoulder so he can see you the way you’re supposed to look around him. Happy. Content. He can’t stop himself from kissing you. You can’t stop yourself from kissing back.
#jordan li x reader#jordan li imagine#jordan li#gen v x reader#black!reader#first full jordan li fic! super fun to right nonny i am kissing you on the mouth this was INSPIRING#if you see any grammar or spelling errors no you don't lmao
295 notes
·
View notes
Note
How would Astarion, Gale, Karlach, and Shadowheart each go about apologizing to their significant other?
Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3
Character(s): Astarion, Gale, Karlach, Shadowheart
Note(s): Idk why but the first thing that popped into my head was Astarion bringing you something he killed, like what cats do 😂 I am also assuming this is Spawn Astarion, Ascended Astarion would never apologize or if he does then it's hollow words (same with Shar Shadowheart).
Astarion
He acts pouty that you're upset with him before sighing and finding some wine or flowers or something nice and pretty as an apology gift. Not really trying to buy your acceptance, but it's nice to receive presents and he wants to flirt with you again after apologizing, making sure things can go back the way they were.
I mean, depending on why you're upset at him is how serious he takes the apology. If it was him making some comment about eating someone or being annoyed at a kid then he doesn't take the apology that serious.
But if it was him doing something that genuinely hurt you (emotionally, he'd be devastated if he ever harmed you physically) then he'll absolutely be very apologetic towards you.
Gale
Sulks if you're upset at him. But he knows that every healthy relationship has its arguments so he hopes that he didn't completely ruin things between you two.
Depending on if you're ready to talk to him or not, he might hover with a book and start reading a quote from it about being sorry.
Of course, he'll tell you it himself, but he wants to first make sure he has your attention first. And he doesn't want to seem desperate and pushy for your forgiveness which is why he tries to be subtle at first.
Karlach
Very pouty if she upset you. Before she apologizes to you, she's probably beating herself up first. But then once she's do scolding herself, she'll go to you and ask if you're both okay. Doesn't matter the severity of what she did to upset you, she's immediately asking if your relationship is still okay.
Assuming she can touch you without burning you alive, she'll want to pull you into the biggest hug. But only if you let her! If you've decided that you don't forgive her yet or still need space then she'll understand and will sulk in the corner until you're okay.
If you're touch adverse then she'll want to give you some wildflowers she found instead, but only if you're ready to accept her apology.
Shadowheart
I think it also depends on the severity when it comes to Shadowheart too. She'll still apologize, but it might be more halfhearted depending on the reason why she's apologizing. She apologizes either way, but rather she learns from it is another story.
But if she sees how upset it made you then she does act like a bit of a kicked puppy. She'll apologize to you and ask if you're both okay.
Might try to make some small joke or tease you about something in hopes of livening the mood a bit. If that backfires then she's pouting more and apologizing more because she was hoping the joke would make you smile.
Taglist:
@reo-the-leo @unhelpfulnpc
#Anonymous#bg3 x reader#baldurs gate 3 x reader#shadowheart x reader#gale x reader#karlach x reader#astarion x reader#bg3 astarion x reader#bg3 gale x reader#bg3 karlach x reader#bg3 shadowheart x reader
333 notes
·
View notes
Text
Casual
2k+ - javier peña x fem! reader
summary: You don’t casually fuck your friends. Not even when they’re undressing you with their eyes alone, making you squeeze your thighs together hoping they won’t notice. But they always do.
warnings: this one’s a doozy bitches. hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of breakup and infidelity/male! ex, mentions of situationships scary ik, NSFW 18+, mdni, creampie, no use of protection - wrap it before you tap it, love confession, whiny javi, maybe not as important but reader smoking, this is my second time writing smut, lmk if i missed anything!!
notes: heavily inspired by the song what you heard by sonder, so i recommend listening while reading. this was written at 3 am. you’ve been warned boo. this idea was a lil corny but oh well, self indulging. enjoy, muah!
part two/ technical part 1
Your hands shake as your chapped lips are met with the plush of a cigarette filter. The Colombian humidity takes its toll as hot tears warm your cheeks further, it’s a sticky and cruel feeling as the temperature refuses to offer any reprieve. You take a long drag, trying to get a hold of yourself.
The night wasn’t supposed to go this way. It wasn’t supposed to hurt this much. You had known he was cheating, this followed by you emotionally checking out of the relationship. Only staying with him until you had found a place of your own, but here you were, crying and shaking on the sidewalk still in today’s work attire.
“Fuck,” you muttered, running a hand down the side of your face, ash falling from the cigarette. One more shaky drag.
“Go home agent,” As if your night couldn’t get even worse. You don’t even try to hide your emotions, too exhausted to care. “I can say the same to you, Peña,” you bit, not in any mood to be around him. He scoffed, as he usually does. Is it too much to be left alone? You think to yourself, ready to let another round of tears have at it. Javi's hand tugging you up by your upper arm is what pulls you out of your stupor, You go to smack his chest but he catches your hand, “Cut it out, I know you. Let’s go.” You jerk your arm out of his grip angrily, “Do you ever just fuck off?” you asked, now you’re furious. “And let you sit here and cry over that bitch? You’re so fuckin’ cute” He replied flatly, not showing any signs of relenting. “Fuck off” you spat, walking towards your car with wobbly legs. You should’ve known better when you felt the grip on your waist, or the body dangerously pressed up behind yours.
“You’re in no condition to drive, and that sorry fuck with only show up at your place asking for forgiveness. come t’my place.” As if you couldn’t be more enraged, him massaging the sides of your waist was what fucked you up royally. “Is this what you do to all of your colleagues agent? Wait till they’re all broken up and you fuck them?” You could feel him rolling his eyes at your jab, squeezing your sides in the process. “Ay, not typically. But you? You’re real special cariño.” Fucking typical, you’re close to ending him where he stands. “You don’t stop do you?” Detaching from his grip and turning to face him, “I’ve been fucked over all week, and you don’t even relent Javier. Just leave me the fuck alone.”
If you weren’t as irate as you are right now, you would’ve felt remorse for the stoned expression he put on to hide how he felt right now. Javier Peña could be as cold as he wanted to be but his eyes have never lied to you. Not even when he’s staring at you with half-lidded eyes and a prominent frown. You could tell that his tactics were just that, tactics. Tactics to hide how he truly felt. In all the years you knew Javi, you’re well aware that beneath it all, he cared. You knew it when he drove you home when you were drunk, when he spent many nights at the office with you because he didn’t want you on the streets so late at night. Even when you stayed at his apartment when you and your boyfriend fought. He can chalk it up to being a good friend or that you’re a DEA agent and that alone puts a target on your back, all he wants. Javier Peña is a man of many excuses, and excuses he always has, but you knew better.
You sighed, the tension in your shoulders beginning to ease. You uttered his name, making him look directly into your eyes, unintentionally making you feel small. “I’m tired” You heard him tsk at the response, “Come over then, you forgot your shit on my couch and I’m tired of it taking up space.” You rolled your eyes at his comment, “Fucker” you muttered, he snorted at the comment reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. You offered him a sad smile, subtly leaning into his touch. “So pretty when you give in to me.” He smirked, aware of its double meaning. You slapped his chest, shaking your head disapprovingly. This strongly makes you resemble a peeved mother and it made him crack a small smile at the thought.
So maybe you two have fucked before you were in a relationship, casually. By casually, that meant more often than not, you were found wrapped in his sheets and arriving at work in the same car with matching marks over your necks. But it all had come to an end when you met your boyfriend, it didn’t take an idiot to know that Javier absolutely hated him. Yes, he was shitty and the sentiment was understandable, but it couldn’t be over casual fucking.
Sure, Javier gave your boyfriend shit every time he came by. Sure, he might’ve “drunkenly” punched him, while stone cold sober. You knew this because he was the one that drove you home after, perfectly fine and in a seemingly chipper mood without a scratch on him. But it wasn’t over you two. He wasn’t a colleague, but you wouldn’t call him a friend, you don’t casually fuck your friends.
You snuff the cigarette out with your heel after another long drag. You motion your head towards his car, you both move in unusual tandem. As if your minds already knew and moved in dysfunctional sync with each other .
“So you gonna tell me what happened? Or are you planning on being all fuckin’ sad over that asshole?” You chuckled weakly at his questioning, “I just moved into my new place right? He found my address through a close friend of mine and showed up to tell me he’s been fuckin’ her. I don’t think I could give a shit about him but that fuckin’ hurt Jav.” He shook his head angrily, trying to form words to comfort you but failed miserably. Javi didn’t trust what he was going to say, telling you that you didn’t deserve to be treated that way was an understatement. But he also couldn’t tell you that he would never treat you that way, so he settled for rubbing your back in silence.
He opened your door, hand falling onto your lower back for support, you settled in but he didn’t budge from where he stood. You both take a second to look at each other. Javi frowns as his eyes flicker over the tear streaks painting your cheeks. He’s grown so accustomed to that warmth your face holds when you look at him, even if you deny that it's there at all. Instead of warmth and trust, there’s utter exhaustion and physical evidence of hurt. It enraged him, a mixture of jealousy and hurt licked viciously at his heart. Jealous that someone had what he wanted most, someone so pathetically below what you could even begin to deserve, your time and love in a constant. But all the same hurt, because the last thing he’d ever have you feel with him, would be utter fucking heartache.
You, as always, watch his eyes. Watch the way they soften and harden, clearly deep in thought. You knew it was about your situation, causing you to look down in shame for bringing him into this situation. You don’t realize he’s made eye contact with you until he’s gently holding your chin in between his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t” He warns, voice barely a whisper “Don’t give me that look doll. Don’t you look at me like you’re a burden to me, you of all people should know that you’re not and you haven’t nearly come close to being one any time soon.”
You’re silent, aside from shakily sucking in a breath in a poor attempt to calm the way your heart is pounding in your chest. Your head drops, his hand moves to the back of your neck when you do, lightly massaging the area. You reach to pull at the end of the suit jacket you made fun of earlier today in passing, now much more interested in the way it hugged his figure perfectly. The jacket only accentuating the way his button up was a tad bit tight on him, hugging his soft middle and snugly fitting across the wide expanse of his shoulders, making it painfully obvious how broad he was. A broadness you were very familiar with. You slowly lift your head, watching as his eyes roam your figure. You’re plagued with the memories of just how wide Javi is, remembering the feeling of you gripping and clawing at his shoulders as he thrusted up into you. You remember every detail of how big he looked with your legs thrown over his shoulders, leaving bruises in the shape of his fingers on your thighs. You remember exactly how he fucked you in that position, he always loved the way you’d cry out for him. Cockdrunk and brazen when his cock deliciously grazed that spot deep within you. But you knew he loved when you laid pretty for him, as he set an agonizingly slow pace just to see how your face would twist in absolute pleasure.
You don’t casually fuck your friends.
Not even when they’re undressing you with their eyes alone, making you squeeze your thighs together hoping they won’t notice. But they always do.
The silence becomes suffocating all too fast. There’s no hiding anymore, not when you two are looking at each other like this. Not when he’s slotting his bottom lip between his teeth, and certainly not when you’re silently wishing it was your own. You both waited for what seemed like eternity for the other to break the silence, before you could, Javi beat you to it.
“Come over, honey”
———————————————————————
Your pathetic attempt at telling yourself that you dont casually fuck your friends is immediately thrown out the window when he’s moving at the pace he’s set now.
The hand pressing you down between your shoulder blades is firm, and so is the one roughly cupping your jaw. All while the man they belong to is drilling into you from behind, not a falter in his speed. The mixture of your moans and skin slapping fill the small apartment, your hair is sticking to your forehead as tears threaten to spill.
“Fuckin’ tight” you hear him grunt out. You can barely form words in this state, especially not when Javi’s thick fingers start to circle your clit. You mewl at the sensation, “Poor baby, been so long since you’ve been treated so well…” His voice trails, losing himself in the sensation of you clenching around him. He doesn’t even realize he’s lost it until he’s rutting into you, barely pulling himself out, chasing the feeling.
“Please…Jav”
You’re not sure what you’re begging for, but as always, he knows. But he’s not letting you up that easily, he needs to remind you what you’ve been missing for so long. “C’mon, tell me what y’want baby. Know you can do better than that.”
You mentally curse him, but in the end you always give him exactly what he asks for. “Please Javi, faster f’me. Please honey.” You plead, it takes everything in him not to cum in you at that moment. You knew how much Javi absolutely loved the nickname honey, it was something so domestic and soft that it was a stark contrast to how he had you now. When you two were the sad excuse of “casual,” the nickname made him think of something other than just sex. He could imagine life outside of it, and that’s what he was doing right now as he rut into you.The name drove him mad, and just like that he was putty in your hands. You gasp as his hands left your body, releasing a soft whimper at the loss of him when he pulled out of you. He picks you up, sliding your body onto his bed further before pulling you onto his lap.
With his back pressed against the headboard, you sat straddling his thighs dazed at the sudden position change. “You want faster cariño, you got it. Go ahead, show me how fast you want it.” With sticky thighs covered in your arousal you slide up and sink down onto his cock. He slips in with ease, his size still being quite a stretch even when you’re as wet as you are now. His hands find purchase on your hips, admiring the way your body glows under the sliver of moonlight that escapes past his curtains.
“Pretty when you’re sittin’ on my cock, mi vida”
You rock your hips at his words, throwing your head back at the sensation. “Missed you, missed this Jav” You confess hazily, you can practically feel his smirk as he runs his hands up and down your spine. “Give it to me then pretty, show me how much you miss me.”
You oblige, setting your pace, hands finding its home right back to his shoulders. Javi can’t help but whine at the feeling, face contorted in pleasure, the sight of you bouncing on his cock sending him into complete and utter bliss.
He wraps his arms tightly around your middle, melding you bodies impossibly closer, but not close enough. He’s practically moaning into your chest as he places wet kisses there, your whimpers spurring him on even more. You both don’t anticipate what happens next,
“Missed you s’much honey. Needed you for so fuckin’ long. You didn’t even know it. Went so long without feeling you, was a mess.” He blabbers, still placing kisses onto your hot skin.
“Didn’t even know I belonged to you. Always fuckin’ have, didn’t stop when y’were with that fuck either.” You can’t form a response, stuttering but seemingly not finding the words between the noises he was pulling out of you. Your pace falters at that, and he picks up where you left off with ease thrusting up into you with desperation. If even possible, both of your volumes increase, a tell-tale sign that you were both dangerously close. You watch as Javi hastily slips his thumb into his mouth, pulling it out with a light pop and pressing harsh circles to your puffy clit.
“Carajo, you gotta cum f’me honey. Fuck…please cum, need it so bad. Need it as bad as I need you. Please”
He can barely recognize his voice, raspy and desperate. But it spurs you on and in a matter of seconds you give him exactly what he’s pleading for. Your vision goes white as you release a lewd moan, your walls tighten just right. His thrusts grow messy, before you know it you can feel him pulsing in you, painting your insides with his cum.
You whimper as he milks you for a few seconds, panting breathlessly before he maneuvers you onto your back and slowly slips out. Both of your arousals dripping onto the sheets, you’re caught by surprise when you feel him collecting it with his fingers and lewdly shoving it back into you. “Prettiest thing i’ve ever seen…” he mutters, mostly to himself but you don’t miss it in your dazed state.
You watch sleepily as he moves gingerly to the bathroom, coming back minutes later with a towel to clean you up.
As you feel the cool towel gently moving across your thighs, you contemplate Javi’s confession. His words playing in your mind over and over again,
“Didn’t even know I belonged to you. Always fuckin’ have”
Those words haunted you when you stayed up all those nights ago. You weren't sure if you wished for it or denied it if you were hiding it or trying to push yourself into embracing it. Either way, your heart was pounding in your chest in your blissed out state.
He put the towel on his bedside table, moving to rest beside you slowly. He pulled your body towards him, and now you were facing each other engulfed in the darkness of his room. You reach out to lazily trace his features, adoring the curve of his nose and running your thumb across his cupid's bow. You gently place a kiss onto his lips, and he pulls you closer, licking your bottom lip in permission. You grant him access and revel in the way he tastes, always enjoying how it’s so distinctly him. He pulls away unwillingly letting you go back to tracing his face.
He sighs shakily, making you worry even in your sleepy state. “I did…mean those things. But don’t rush, please. Not for me, not for anyone. But know that I belong to you.” Your eyes flicker to his own, catching the raw emotion that paints them like a canvas. He’s warm and welcoming but you know he’s afraid, You place a kiss to the tip of his nose. He sighs, the action soothes him slightly.
“I’m yours Jav…always have been.“ It's all he's ever wanted, what he's needed over the last few months.
“Rest for me honey, I’ll be right here when you wake up. I can tell you everything you want to hear tomorrow, but you’re exhausted ” Always looking out, you thought humming at his response.
"I never apologized...but I am truly sorry. For it all Javier."
Such a sweet thing, he runs his thumb over your lips in a way to silently shush you. You place a soft kiss on it and he feels his heart skip a beat at the action.
"Sleep, tell me all about it tomorrow."
Casual is the last word used to describe the two of you wrapped up in each other, breaths mingling together that night.
xtras! - well that was INTERESTING. strayed away from my usually fluffiness and dabbled in some more smut. my requests are open, check my pinned post on that one, lmk what you thot of this one!!
recently been creating fics that could all be multiple parts lol. so on that note, pt 2?
#˚₊‧꒰ა angelickk blog ໒꒱ ‧₊˚#javier pena#javier pena x reader#javier pena smut#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena narcos#narcos#javier pena x y/n#javier pena angst#imagine#javier pena fic#smutty thoughts#fluff#javier peña hurt/comfort fic#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedrohub
383 notes
·
View notes
Text
-My Goddess-
NSFW, 18+ only Plz~
SPOILERS FOR SUMERU’S ARCHON QUEST BEWARE
Summary: Scaramouche brings you to Sumeru to have you witness his birth as a god, but he didn't plan for your reaction...
Pairing: Fatui! Scaramouche x Female Reader
Warning: Spoilers for Akasha Pulses Archon quest, foul language, god complex Scara, unprotected sex, Scara is nice but mean, degradation, creampie, and little bit of angst and fluff.
Word Count: 5.6K (How tf did this get so long)
Enjoy~
“Look at them, (Y/N)! All those tiny insects… building my chamber where I shall rule over them.” The silver blade that was normally referred to as the balladeer’s tongue was ever so gentle and caring as he gazed upon the contexts of the scholar’s creation. His pale skin shined underneath all the lights, arms outstretched marveling at the glorious creation. The mechanized machine loomed over you both, your place next to the Balladeer forever being cast out by his own shadow. He was an incredibly selfish individual. His goals were never to bring you with him in his accession into godhood. A small pawn on his chess board to dispose of. “Isn’t it magnificent? Everyone, is preparing for my birth into this world, as a god!” His tongue dripped with venomous anticipation, poisoning you to praise him, worship him, and bow before his feet like the underling you now realized you were. “Are you going to stare gawking or are you going to congratulate me on finally achieving godhood after centuries of careful planning?”
“I’m sorry, My Lord. Forgive me for my lack of words.” Your response clearly did not do much for his souring mood upon not receiving your praise. He turned his body towards you, the jingle of the bells on his hat chiming at his slow steps towards you. Your composure remained unchanged in the presence of The Balladeer, his cold expression having no effect on your heart. “Are you not happy that I am finally fulfilling my purpose for being created? I have my heart, and I will use my newfound strength… to rule over the insects of this world that grovel beneath me.” He stopped in front of you, dark lavender eyes gazing directly into your eyes that were unfortunately cast downwards. You knew he was looking, but you didn’t dare meet his gaze, remaining silent instead. This only seemed to anger The Balladeer more. “What’s troubling you? Is there something you dislike about the design? I will have it changed if that is what you want.”
“…What I want, Lord Scaramouche?” The tremble in your voice was evident, there was no hiding anymore exactly how you felt in that moment. The upcoming god could easily pick up on your changed emotions, suddenly becoming stricken with anxiety. “I… I want you back.” It was plain and simple as that. Your first meeting with The Balladeer was nothing short of fate. It was a cold day In Snezhnaya, your village near the Fatui headquarters always patrolled and watched closely. Remembering how the cold snow felt on your bare feet would forever be ingrained in your brain from that day, along with finding The Balladeer practically frozen near a river. He was welcomed into your home for 3 days, secluded due to the raging blizzard that always took the lives of any who dared challenge its icy wind laced touch. “You’re… You’re changing. You’re starting to leave me behind. You… replaced me already.”
“Huh?” His cold tone only fueled the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, still recalling his harsh yet gentle nature as he resided in your home. He voiced his displeasure almost every minute, but he made no effort to walk out and take his chances with the vengeful blizzard. You learned a lot about him during those 3 short days. How he enjoyed bitter tea and despised anything sweet you had to offer him for dessert. The immense sorrow that lingered in his empty chest as he gazed over the stuffed animal in the house. The way he would become engrossed in reading about blade forgery, almost as if he had known about the art for centuries. And lastly, how much the all-powerful Fatui Harbinger detested insects. “What nonsense are you going on about? When did I ever give you the impression, I was every going to let you escape?”
“Just look at what you’re doing, Lord Scaramouche… you’re… ascending far beyond my reach anymore. It’s not a matter of trying to escape from you… you’re just starting to abandon me.” His breath hitched once those words left your soft lips. Never in his life did he ever think you would be saying those words to him. It was anticipated to be the other way around, but the tables had turned now. “You… praise Ms. Haypasia more than you do me…” That wasn’t true. Not to him anyways. You and that other human were completely different. She was just a mere follower, disposable, you were supposed to be by his side forever. “Even the way you look at this thing-“ You turned your head to look up at the machine that hung above. “-as if it’s your everything now. Your time with me has shortened, and the attention you once gave me has dwindled into but a small insignificant grain of dust… The gnosis, this machine… it’s your heart… I wished for you to gaze at me like that… I wished for you to stay with me until the world takes me… I wanted to be your heart.”
“No… that’s- that’s absurd!” His voice wavered just slightly, hands reaching out to grasp your arms, holding you tightly in his grasps. “You… You-“ The words kept getting caught in his throat as he tried to voice his conflicting emotions. After a few seconds of pondering for the right words, the thought died within his throat, choosing to remain silent. “I wish you… all the best, Lord Scaramouche. I’ll never forget my time with you. You will be in my thoughts always… and I’ll worship you until the day I die… I love you.” His breath caught in his throat hearing those words pass from your lips so carelessly. Throwing that phase out to him as if you weren’t about to leave him alone. His body was stiff when you suddenly placed your hands onto his cheeks, the feeling of your warm hands stunning him further. Your face was so close to his, he could feel your nervous breaths, almost hear your heartbeat hammering away at your ribcage. Your lips were soft against his own, moving gently against him even though he showed no sign of returning your affections.
Once you were gone from his touch, the world came crashing.
“You can’t leave. I forbid it.” You only gave him a sad smile, moving your hands off his cheeks. The attempt was quickly stopped by the harbingers intense grip slamming down onto your wrists to stop you. “I didn’t give you permission to leave. You are not allowed to leave my side.” His head was lowered, making it impossible for you to gaze into his dark lavender eyes and gauge exactly what he was feeling at this moment. You had an idea of what it was just by the way his hands trembled while holding you. “Lord Scaramouche, I hope you know I’m not betraying you like the others.” The grip he had on you tightened, his shoulders now trembling, still unable to gauge his emotions. You knew of his history as a puppet, and as the almighty electro archons creation. “I’m letting you go to achieve your purpose you’ve longed for. I won’t keep you grounded any longer. You’ve been through so much; you deserve this opportunity- “
“Then come with me! Let us both ascend together into godhood! Become my goddess. Rule by my side and stay!” The hurt in his voice was now clearer than ever. He was deeply troubled by your decision. To think you would ever consider leaving him drove him mad. All because of your selfless intentions not to hold him back? How absurd! Ever since he began seeing you more and more, he knew he could never let you go. That first kiss sealed his fate with you years ago. “L-Lord Sc-“ He lunged his hand forward to grab your mouth tightly, suppressing any words from coming out as he spoke. “You will be my goddess, whether you like it or not. We will become equals. Do not address me in that way again, or I will have to punish you.” Nodding quickly, your shaky fingers attempted to pry his tight grip off your mouth, slightly taken aback by his sudden outburst. A dark chuckle echoed in your ears when his lips came close to your ear. “Good… now there’s something I must take in order to properly claim you as my goddess. Something… I’ve wanted to do with you for so long.”
Your heart skipped a beat as his lips moved in slow motion in front of you.
“Your body.”
The sounds of machines in the background suddenly become more and more fuzzy as his demand came crashing onto your mind like a dozen bricks. The thrashing of your heart against your ribcage became more violent the more you imagined becoming one with Scaramouche. The relationship between you remained pure and innocent for a long time. The only thing you had ever done with him was hug him or give him a kiss on the head here and there and on very rare occasions give him a real kiss. To excel to something as serious as that? It was all too much for you to handle. You loved him. As much as you didn’t want to in the beginning you couldn’t help but fall in love with the Fatui Harbinger. Through his harsh acts and mean words, all he had ever wanted was to be loved and wanted. His walls broke when you indulged in his buried human desires.
“Kissing won’t be enough for me anymore. Once I finish claiming you… you will permanently be mine, to rule by my side forever, never to part from me. Doesn’t that sound nice? Bound to your god through body and soul. Is that what you want? Will that make you happy?” His questions were making your head spin. He knew the answers to his own questions though, it was all a means to influence you further. You didn’t need to respond to tell him how much you longed to be by his side. “It was idiotic to think you could simply leave after all we’ve been through. Even if you wanted to without such a selfishly selfless reason such as that…” His voice trailed off, slowly letting go of your mouth and replacing his cold hand against your neck, squeezing lightly. “Listen close, I will not repeat this.” He called, leaning towards your ear. His breath was hot despite his body being frigid. You shifted in his grasp, swallowed thickly before he spoke. “I love you too.”
“S…Scaramouche?” Your voice was soft and almost like a faint whisper whisked about by the clattering noise around you. That was the first time he had ever admitted such feelings towards you. His cheeks were a soft pink, scowling at you and himself in disgust over his emotionally human confession. He didn’t give you another second to speak or breathe before he attached his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. In an instant, you melted into his touch, your shaky uncertain hands coming to rest against his cold cheeks, nimble fingers edging closer and closer to his indigo locks. His hair was incredibly soft, so perfect to run your fingers through and pull. His hands came to your waist, pulling your lower body against his. His tongue slipped, parting your lips to rub against your teeth, ordering you to open your mouth for him. You obeyed him, letting him completely consume you. “M-Mmm… Scara-Mph!”
One of his hands came to grab your hair, pulling your head back until he was holding you against him, leaning you back to appropriately dominate you. Your arms wrapped around his neck quickly, scared of falling but knew he would never let you go. His tongue darted inside your mouth, swirling around your mouth in needy passion. His teeth clanked against yours as he pushed himself deeper, his tongue reaching the deepest parts of your mouth. Precious oxygen was beginning to become necessary, but you didn’t want to pull away from his blissful and loving touches. A low groan echoed into your mouth being swallowed by your small gasp of air before he closed you off again with his lips. You could feel yourself beginning to get weak in your knees, slowly falling to the floor while Scaramouche kept you close to him. He parted from you finally, a string of saliva connecting your tongues until he licked it away and swiped his tongue over his lips.
“Already weak from one kiss? Hah, how pathetic you truly are. It’s a nuisance that you’re human, that’ll change in due time if you’re going to be my goddess.” You didn’t understand what he had meant by those words, but you did know that your remaining strength dropped once he gazed into your eyes with a powerful, dominating lust. God were his eyes just hypnotizing. His gaze followed to all the workers in the large area, irking him further as he realized he had been too distracted by you. “Hey! All you pests! Get out!” His voice was booming and loud, his tone laced with toxic authority that should not be dared challenged. The workers all looked confused and exchanged glances, further angering the ascending god. “Are you all deaf? I said, get the fuck out!” The workers scurried away in fear, leaving all their tools, and exiting the area. He turned back towards you, his lips curling into a sadistic smirk. “Come, my goddess.”
“Y…Yes, Scaramouche.” You shakily rose, clambering into his arms as he drug you up into the chamber of the machines head. It was sparkling red, its contents almost like you were floating into space. He swished his hand out, the machine face closing behind you, trapping you inside with the godly creation of an archon. As soon as those doors were closed, his lips were on yours again, this time more desperate and needy. His hands were trailing up and down your body, exploring his inexperienced hands over every curve and crevice that your body hid. A sigh left his lips into your mouth, groaning at the feeling of how soft and smooth your breasts were. “Tsk. Childe is always chattering about how pleasant these feel… damn idiot was right about one thing for once.”
His hands continued to knead and squeeze your breasts, getting rougher each second hearing your soft sighs of pleasure. “Yeah? You like that don’t you? So filthy.” His lips curled and arched into a grin, his perfect teeth showing just how amused he was at how much you were loving his touch. It gave him a confidence boost. Truth be told he’d never done anything like this either, only read about from human books or got lectured about it from Childe or La Signora. “Yes, Scaramouche… it… it feels good.” He gave a raspy laugh, narrowing his eyes as you tilted your head to the side, eyes closing as you could only focus solely on the way his hands kneaded you. He took this invitation and leaned forward, his hot breath fanning over your delicate skin before sinking his teeth into you. He pushed you back against one of the walls, one hand slamming against it while his other continued to squeeze and grope. “Mmm! Wait-! Ngh…”
“No one gave you permission to talk back to your god. So hush, and be a good girl for me. Even your fragile body can do so much as that can’t it?” His voice was low and husky, his tongue slowly moving over the indentions in your flesh made by his teeth. A shiver slipped through your spine at the cool feeling of his salvia colliding with the cool air, your back arching into his greedy hands. Both his hands came and started to tear at your shirt, the sound of fabric ripping echoing in your ears that made your heart rate increase. He fumbled with the clothing that didn’t come off right away and yanked it off you, tugging and pushing your body to and from him. Once your shirt was completely off, he started to wander his eyes up and down your body, his cheeks a soft pink as his virgin eyes soaked in every bit of your untouched, pure skin. “Wow… if I had known that your body was this beautiful, I would’ve taken you for myself a long time ago. Haha, not as if I would let you go to begin with.”
“S-Scara… s-stop staring please, it’s embarrassing…” Your head turned to the side, squeezing your eyes closed trying not to focus on his hard gaze over your half-naked form. A low growl rumbled through his chest, his hands grabbing ahold of your waist tightly and leaning forward to aggressively kiss and bite your neck. “There you go again, ordering me around. Must I put you in your place the hard way?” He took a firm step forward, trapping you completely against his chest and the wall. You could only pant in response, whimpering in embarrassment as you urged your hands not to cover yourself. His head craned down, his eyes now intently staring at the gorgeous sight of your cleavage, fleshly mounds almost falling out of your bra from how they were pushed against his chest. “Let’s take this off and see the real thing, shall we?”
“O-Okay…” You pushed forward a bit, leaning into Scaramouche while his cool fingers traced up your back to find the clasps of your bra. His nimble fingers fumbled slightly, cursing under his breath trying to get the damn thing unclasped. Once he finally got the clasp undone, he pulled the back forwards, the straps adorning your shoulders becoming loose. “Shaking already? I’ve barely touched you yet.” You hadn’t even realized you were shaking until he made it known to your flushed ears. You were incredibly nervous. “There’s no need to worry so much, my dear goddess.” His hands wandered up your arms, lightly grasping the straps before pulling them down and letting your bra drop to the floor. Your hands twitched harshly upon feeling bare in front of him, the urge to cover up becoming increasingly more prominent. “Your god will take real good care of you. I’ll make sure you feel the best you ever have in your entire pathetic mortal life.”
“Y…Yes, sir.” You opened your eyes slowly, cheeks instantly flushing realizing he was staring intently at you. The deep pits of his irises lulled you in to fall deeper into the endless hole of desire and love. His eyes lowered to your bare chest, his own smooth cheeks becoming pink in surprise and embarrassment. He was starstruck. The beautiful curves and swells of your breasts were mesmerizing to him, and let’s not skip over the fact your nipples were cute and erected for him. He tested the waters of this new experience, pinching your nipple between his index and thumb, awaiting your response. A whimper fell upon his mechanical ears, his body urging him to do more for you. His fingers rolled the erect bud, causing your body to arch into his touch, a quiet moan resonating from your swollen lips. He groaned lowly at the noise. “Fuck… that’s hot. Give me more. Submit yourself to me, completely.”
His lustful actions continued, rolling and pinching your nipples while his eyes stared Intensely at your expressions, watching each and every twitch and wince of pleasure. He quickly found himself now addicted to making you feel good. Your sweet noises caused by his hands was such a turn on for him. Once he was done with your chest, he moved down to your hips, rubbing your hips soothingly before hooking his slender fingers around your panties and pants and pulled them down swiftly. A harsh shake shuddered through your body feeling more exposed before him. Of course, you’d never done anything like this before. It was all so embarrassing. For Scaramouche, it was all new and exciting. Seeing your voluptuous body on display for him, completely bare and vulnerable for him to pray on.
“You look so humiliating standing here, shaking before me. It looks as if your legs are about to give up on you.” He mused, lips curling into a sly and cocky smile watching you quiver beneath him. His dark lavender eyes trailed up and down your body, quietly admiring all your natural beauty. He couldn’t help but stare down at your nether regions, accented by tufts of swift curls. His hand came slowly, his slender fingers running over your upper thigh slowly. Your back arched in his cool touch, lip catching between your teeth trying not to cover up or run away from him. The thin digits of his hand slid across your thigh to run his finger down the middle of your folds, feeling the lewd slick that had started to gather and threaten to drip onto the floor. “It’s all wet and slippery down here. How lewd of you. Maybe I was wrong about you, maybe you are a dirty girl after all, hmm?”
“N-No… It’s… it’s because of you.” His eyes glimmered with lust hearing your confession, body involuntarily shuddering. He could feel a faint pulse in his shorts. It was at that moment he secretly thanked his creator for at least one damn thing. A dick to give you a nice, good fucking with (she really just wanted him to look as real as possible). The puppet grinned watching your shy eyes shift to meet his in a long and loving gaze, tainted with hints of lust. He leaned forward slowly not to startle you and captured your lips in an oddly soft and passionate kiss. Your body instinctively relaxed upon feeling his embrace, allowing him to slip his fingers up and inside. Your back arched into him, suddenly becoming tense and breaking the passionate kiss your lover initiated. “Ngh… f-feels weird, Scara…”
“Y-Yeah, it’s fucking tight.” His once confident voice was wavering as his finger was clenched tight by your hot gummy walls. The puppet experimented with his finger as he moved it around, feeling your cunt’s curvy walls and tight squeeze. “S-Scaramouche… Hmm.” He watched your expression closely before he added a second finger. You gave a pitiful cry of discomfort upon his second finger being added. His body shuddered, hips bucking forwards desperate to feel something, it was beginning to get painful. He used his non occupied hand and shyly placed your hand against the bulge poking out from under the metal plate that guarded his hips. The ascending god shuddered in ecstasy upon the light contact, a low growl emanating from his chest. “Touch me.” It wasn’t a request; it was an order.
“Mmm, Scara, I-it’s so… so hard.” A quiet mewl left your lips when your hand hesitantly started to rub and squeeze against the tip of his cock. Scaramouche moaned lowly against your face, a flurry of curses leaving his lips once you got more confident with him. If you were to get confident with him why not he do the same? He started thrusting his fingers into your core, his slender digits reaching deeper and deeper with every movement. You both were moaning into each other’s face, your hot breaths adding fuel to the already out of control fire of desire. “Fuck I need this. I need you.” Your lover pulled his fingers out, admiring the lewd fluid on his digits. You gasped once his fingers left, your cunt squeezing at nothing, disappointed at the loss of his fingers. A harsh clank echoed in the red sparkling space around you as Scaramouche removed the metal plate adorning his hips. “Strip me. Use your pretty shaking fingers and take off everything.”
His word was law. You began running your fingers over his chest, carefully removing the electro symbol that usually gleamed in the light against his chest. You stripped him carefully until all that was left was his shorts. The bulge was clearly now present, showing you just how big it was. His skin was so smooth without blemish or scar or scrape. His complexion was utterly perfect. He was crafted for godly hood after all. “Well? Go on. Take ‘em off. I did tell you everything didn’t I? Or is your head to far in the clouds to even comprehend your god’s order?” You shook your head before you carefully slid down the shorts that adorning Scaramouche’s thin hips. The harsh thumping of your heart echoed within your ears meeting his erect member, standing tall and proud. Your eyes shifted up to him, blushing more seeing how red his face was too. “Scara-“
“Shut up and turn around.” He roughly turned you around and grabbed your hips, pulling your ass back against his hard erection. A surprised gasp flew from your mouth feeling the touch of his length against you. His hands wandered up your back to carefully grab your hair, pulling your head back to place kisses against your shoulder and neck. “Are you ready for the main event? To become my goddess and rule by my side? Tell me.” He pulled a little harder, his voice attempting to sound dominant and hungry but only coming out as desperate and a bit nervous. A faint affirmation left your tongue, leaving the godly puppet to hastily locate your entrance with the tip of his engorged cock. “Good girl.” The tenderness of his lip caught between his teeth once he found it, slowly pushing it in before looking up to watch your reactions.
A wince escaped onto your expression, the stretch of his length in your inexperienced hole becoming overwhelming. His eyes continued to watch you closely, his grip on your hair loosening when he dropped his hand down to your hip. He could see the way your jaw clenched, the way your eyes scrunched, and it sent a flurry of panicked thoughts through his mind. He never intended to hurt you. He had heard this was supposed to be a pleasurable act, something that would deepen your relationship and make it nearly impossible for you to leave. Even though the puppet had lived through centuries, he was still a bit naive. His hips halted, hands lightly caressing you in fear that you might pull away from him.
“Hey… If you’re in pain say so. Don’t be a stubborn brat.” You shook your head and turned to gaze lovingly into his eyes with a smile. His face bloomed in a light shade of red. “P-Please continue, Scaramouche. I want you too.” He gave you a glare, tender lips turning into a deep frown out of embarrassment of your actions. He leaned forward to kiss you again, his body urging him to seal his lustful acts with a loving kiss to solidify your bond to him. He pushed his hips up until his groin was flush against the plushness of your butt. A whine of pain came to his ears, only pushing him to please you more with his lips. The tight squeeze of your velvety walls had his mind clouded in ecstasy. The temptation to begin bucking his hips into you at a ruthless pace becoming all the more irresistible. “Scara-“
“I know. Shut up and keep kissing me.” Your lips came back to his, your mouth open to allow his tongue to mark and claim you once more. You could feel him slowly pulling his length out, making you feel empty inside before he suddenly thrust his hips back inside. A quiet cry of pain fused with pleasure echoed from your throat, your lover grunting in response to the tight squeeze around his length. Your fragile mind couldn’t choose what it wanted to focus on. The way Scaramouche’s tongue easily pulls you into him or the possessive way he begins to buck his hips to push his cock to the deepest parts of your pussy. It was all so overwhelming you couldn’t help but mindlessly moan and sigh at each thrust of his hips and flick of his tongue.
“That’s it, hah, good girl.” The praise of your god sent goosebumps down your spine, the urge to gaze into eyes while he claims you urging you to attempt to turn around. He stops you quickly and pushes your shoulder harshly to keep your face away from seeing him. “Stop moving and -ngh- just enjoy what I’m giving you, hah.” Truth was he didn’t want you to see what kind of expression he was making. His brows were furrowed, cheeks a lovely shade of pink with heavy pants coming from his swollen lips. He himself was beginning to get lost in the tender squeeze of your cunt around his cock. He had never experienced something that felt so good, he would definitely find himself getting addicted to this feeling. “P-Please -mm!- wanna see you, Scara.”
“Tsk! Fine, if it’ll stop your whining.” Before you knew it, an empty feeling engulfed you before you were spun around and shoved up against the wall by your lover. He lips met yours harshly before he sheathed himself back inside, almost knocking the air out of you at the sudden action. He ruthlessly thrust his hips against yours, lewd noises coming from below you as your sexes collided again and again. A musky smell enveloped the small space of the crimson galaxy that surrounded. The sound of your sweet moans filled the former Fatui Harbinger’s ears, spurring him to become rougher and more possessive in his actions of love making. The feeling of the mushy head of his cock kissing the entrance of your cervix sent you spiraling into the depths of lust.
“Feels good, Scara, ahhh, feels so good.” Your lover’s indigo hair brushed over your forehead as he pressed against you, his deep lavender eyes burning holes into your soul from his heated, obsessive gaze. Scaramouche sighed in bliss against your face, his indigos brows furrowing while he continued to quicken his pace. “Fuck, it feels fucking ama- ngh!- amazing! You like it don’t you? Shit… like when your god makes you good like this? Yeah? Huh? Hah, hah, answer me!” Lust dripped off every word of his sharp tongue. You could only cry a feeble ‘yes’ with a meek call of his name. The lewdly wet sounds of his hips snapping against yours increased, your walls becoming tighter around his pulsing cock. “S-Scara! Hmm! Wait! Something- Somethings coming! P-Pull out!”
“Come undone for me. Ngh, yes, yes- damnit!” His thrusts began to become sloppy and mismanaged, hot and heavy pants coming out of your sexy lover. Your hands raked down his back, clawing at his skin for something to cling onto while a tight feeling began to build in your lower abdomen. Scaramouche’s hands pressed your hips against the wall, ramming his cock as deep as he could, holding you in place. His face buried into your neck, moaning uncontrollably as he neared his sweet release. “Scara, Scaramouche, p-please! Hmm!! Can’t hold it! It’s co- Ahh!” Your warning for him was cut off by a loud moan as you felt the previous buildup of pleasure snap in your abdomen. Scaramouche felt your walls tighten around him and your climax splattering onto his groin.
“Fuck!” His head fell to your chest, letting out a loud moan before giving one firm and harsh thrust inside before he could feel his length twitching, releasing all his sticky seed inside you, overflowing to the point it started to come out of your connected sexes. You both were panting heavily, holding each other tightly as you attempted to calm down from the immense emotions and feelings you both had undergone. A wave of drowsiness washed over your form, your legs numb and heavy, eyelids becoming droopy. “S-…Scara?” The god lifted his head to gaze at your tired expression. A quiet huff slipped through his nostrils as he carefully pulled out of you, a mixture of your sinful fluids splattering to the floor. You let out a soft whine at the empty yet full feeling down there. Scaramouche held you tight, supporting you and your weak state to sit against the floor, pulling some of your clothes over to cover you up. “Tsk… look how weak you’ve become after just one round. We’ll have to change that.”
“You’ve… done this before?” The pure look of disgust on his face let you know that that was not the case. He gave you a soft glare, flicking your head at your stupid accusation. “Are you stupid? No. Reading and having to babysit Childe and listen to his bratty bantering taught me more than I cared to know… but I guess it came useful after all.” You gave a sleepy smile and a small laugh, laying your head into his chest. You felt safe in his arms. Out of all the horrible things Scaramouche has done, you knew deep down that he would never even imagine hurting you. He would always protect you. “Sorry… and I’m sorry about the things I said… I just… want what is best for you, Scaramouche. You truly do deserve the best.” There was a comfortable silence that followed your apology, your lover contemplating how he should respond.
“…you really are stupid, you know that?” He gave a frustrated and annoyed sigh and pulled you closer to his thin frame, embracing you with a flustered blush on his cheeks. A soft hum came from your place on his chest, your body slowly succumbing to your drowsiness, but not before you proclaimed your love one last time. “Thank you… Scara. I love… you…” Once Scaramouche could hear your soft breathing and faint snoring, he gave a quiet sigh and lifted his gaze up to the crimson galaxy of the mechanical mask you both were confined in. He felt like his chest was about to burst open, body on fire, lips twitching uncontrollably as he held back a gentle smile, something he wished to show you. One day… when the entire world is at his feet, and the people of Teyvat worshipped only him, he would show you that gentle side of himself. When he knew it was safe.
“I… love you too, stupid idiot.”
“Are you deaf, or just stupid?”
-Scaramouche
#scaramouche x reader#scara smut#scaramouche smut#scaramouche x you#fatui harbingers#genshin impact#genshin impact smut#genshin impact x reader#the balladeer
758 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sugar II (part 3)
18+ plus only! Minors do not interact!
Warnings: adult themes, angst, discussions of alcohol consumption, etc
Thank you all so much for your patience while I was out of town…I love you and never intentionally keep you waiting! You’re my babies!! ❤️❤️
“Why am I always the last to know everything?” Sam slips into Josh’s dressing room, shirtless and as always, slapping along on two bare feet “Is it because I’m the youngest, or are you just an asshole?”
In contrast to his brother, Josh drips in beaded satin; glitter swept deftly across his eyes; rhinestones grabbing at the light until he winks and flashes like a star against its midnight sky.
No one would expect anything less. He is always the first to be found wandering the hallowed arena halls, made up and shining like old Hollywood royalty. It soothes him…a lullaby masquerading as expensively tailored glitz. You used to help him…zipping up jumpsuits he could have easily secured himself, fussing over his hair, lint rolling velvet, laughing and chattering away to keep his mind off that unforgiving anxiety of his. They are memories he cherishes and thinks of nearly every time he primps.
They each have their rituals - Daniel bangs around on a kit until his arms are loose and his mind is buzzing with adrenaline. Sam terrorizes the crew and his brothers with his trusty four-legged sidekick, shaking off the jitters with hijinks. And Jake scrutinizes his gear meticulously, checking the work of techs and roadies who definitely know what they’re doing. He usually finds something to pick apart anyway. It sharpens his focus and quiets his mind.
Josh steps into costume and becomes someone else. Someone he often doesn’t recognize…who is this person with such charisma and grace? He who commands the attention of crowd after crowd roaring and shaking the rafters? He who is worthy of such primal, hungry fervor?
That is how he finds the spotlight night after night. While the others do their own things, Josh quietly dresses and becomes someone, something, else.
And so, draped in his finery, he watches Sam through the mirror as he flops into a chair, all legs and attitude. “By all means, Samuel, make yourself at home.”
“Were you even going to tell me that she’s here? She always liked me best, you know? She was just too sweet to mention it to you idiots.”
Josh turns with a chorus of clattering glass beads, and leans back against the vanity, arms folded “One, I haven’t even seen you since I found out, so you’ll forgive me. Two, I knew Daniel would break his fucking neck to be the first to tell you,” He shrugs, “figured I’d let him have his moment.”
Popping open a White Claw, Sam ignores his brother's carping in favor of a question “You see her yet?”
“Yes,” Josh turns back to his reflection, patting a fingertip lightly over his eye makeup.
Never in possession of any patience to speak of - the baby of the family rarely is - Sam immediately prods him along. “And?”
He’s met with a sigh, “And what? I went to see her, we caught up for a little while, and then I left. That was that.”
“I went to see her,” there’s a mocking, obnoxious quality to Sam’s tone as he parrots Josh “we caught up for a while and then I— would you shut up? What happened? How is she?”
“She’s...I don’t know. She’s herself and not herself. She looked sad.” The revelation comes with a sadness of its own. “She’s getting married, so she shouldn’t have looked so damn miserable...but she did, and I hated it. It almost made me wish I hadn’t even knocked on her door.”
“I’m usually sad when you knock on my door, too.” Sam deadpans, attempting to lighten the mood at least a little.
“Must you lie, Samuel? You’re stricken with joy when I enter a room, just like everybody else.”
“Christ,” Sam mutters, tossing Josh a white claw to match his own, “I swear, if you could suck your own dick, you would.”
Josh cracks it open and slurps with a dramatic flourish, “Obviously.”
“Why do you think she looks so miserable?” Sam is pondering, turning something over in his mind with worry evident in his eyes.
“Probably because she knows she’ll likely have to see you. That’d be my guess, anyway.”
Josh is disguising his own knotted up stomach with humor. Sammy knows it, and chooses to ignore the dig.
They settle into their drinks until Sam speaks up once again, “She’s getting married? That’s just…” he quiets, unsure and still bristling with concern, “How are you gonna tell him? You gotta wait until after the show, that’s for sure.”
For once in his life, Josh has been rendered temporarily speechless, and that answers the question just fine.
“Are you serious?” Sam leans forward, elbows on his knobby knees, “You can’t be serious.”
“How am I going to tell him?” Now they’re just lobbing questions back and forth at one another. “You can’t be serious!”
Sam’s eyes widen, shocked and hurting for Jake in his absence. It would almost be comical if the situation could lend itself to anything other than this crushing weight, “We have to tell him, Josh. This isn’t okay. He has the right to—“
Suddenly, Josh pushes away from the vanity and the energy radiating from him shifts until he looks nearly frantic, “He has the right to what, Sam? To know? To see her? Have you lost your fucking mind? Put him in a room with her and we’re right back where we started. Three years progress,” his fingers snap harshly, “Poof! gone in a goddamn second.”
Matching his energy, Sam is on his feet in an instant, “Progress? Now whose lost his fucking mind? What progress are we talking about here, Josh? Because from where I’m standing, he’s made none. For his twin you’re remarkably ignorant.”
“I’m not ignorant,” this is bad, especially right before they’re expected to perform. They both know it, but on they march. “I know him backwards and forwards, Sammy, so just fucking listen to me for once. She stays in the past for him and that’s just the way it’s gonna be, end of discussion.”
“She stays in his past, or yours?” Sam counters, sizing his eldest brother up as though he can see right through him.
Shoulders slumped, Josh shakes the venom in Sammy’s accusation off “That isn’t fair.”
“I don’t give a shit. Answer the question.”
Sometimes, Sam readies for battle in a manner that always comes as a shock no matter how many times they’ve seen it happen. When he sheds that goofball demeanor in favor of a game face, it hardly seems real.
He is fierce in his love and loyalty to those he holds close, and tonight, Jacob has earned his favor.
“This isn’t about me, I promise you that.” The truth rings out clear in Josh’s vow. “I loved her once, I love her still, just differently now. I couldn’t do that to him. Not ever. The way he loved her canceled me out a long time ago.”
“Loves her.” Sam corrects, with a finger pointed at his brother to drive home his point.
“All the more reason to keep your mouth shut.” Josh’s timbre is threatening in a way it almost never is. It sounds and feels strange…out of place. “She’s getting fucking married, do you really think he can handle that? Use your fucking head, Sam. Leave it alone.”
Hand on the door handle, Sam watches Josh as if he’d very much like to hurt him, “Who are you to decide what he can and can’t handle?”
~
The show is their worst in their collective memory since their days as greenhorns, though it’s doubtful the fans have taken notice. Each mishap is small and easily disguised, but present all the same. They are unsteady and off-kilter, but only Jake is oblivious as to why.
He snaps a string, misses a mark, foils a riff or two. Josh falls flat and overcompensates, vibrato ringing out sharp. Sam refuses to look in his eldest’s brother’s direction, leaving them detached and removed in an unsettling way. Danny is on point from a technical standpoint, but robotic…their chemistry has vanished tonight and they can all feel it.
The moment they stalk off stage, Sam is clamoring for Jake’s attention as Josh fights to intercept.
Most nights, they’ll filter off into their respective solitude for a time to bask in the quiet before the noise of the bus. Tonight, Sam follows Jake, and Josh follows Sam.
“Jake,” Sam jogs along, easily closing the distance his brother has gained ahead of him with those lanky legs of his. “Hold up, I need to talk to you.”
“It can wait.” Jake is on a mission, clearly in a hurry to close a door and shut out the world. To find a bottle and make love to the whiskey inside it.
“No, it can’t because—“
“He said it can wait, Sam.”
Josh’s admonishment, and the viciousness it’s crackling with, is what turns Jake around. It makes no sense for his twin to be this hostile over something so innocuous; over some random conversation Sam would like to have that doesn’t even involve him.
He turns to find Josh’s glare burning murderously in Sam’s direction. The air emanating from him is in such dramatic contrast to the sunny ray of entertaining light that has just been beaming around the stage, and immediately, Jake senses the urgency of the moment.
On his part, Josh feels the switch flip inside his twin and knows that they’re about to head into dangerous territory. Fucking Sam.
“What?” Jake is furiously fumbling with his hair, shoving sweat soaked snarls away from his face, suddenly overstimulated and on edge. “What is it?”
Sammy speaks up, fighting to be heard clearly as crew members dart around and rush by in a flurry of tasks. “She’s here. Well, not here, but at the hotel.”
Defeated, Josh admits his loss with a quiet “God damn it, Sam.”
Jake somehow manages to catch it over the din and he knows. Or at least, he thinks he knows. He can feel it coming off of Josh like ghostly fingers stretching out to claw at his chest. Still, he doesn’t quite understand, the pieces are just this shy from falling into place.
“Who?” His query is tentative…filled with hopefulness and also a strange terror. A fear he’s only ever felt once before, when, helpless and shattered, he had to watch you say goodbye. A torturous longing only you can evoke.
Sam’s lips part to speak, but Josh shoves past him, grabbing Jake by the arm with black beads shaking about on his shoulders. “No one. Go shower. Have a drink.”
Somehow, Josh’s grip tells Jake everything. All that feverish panic seeps into the fabric of his jacket, somehow chilling his flesh with its burn. “She’s here?” His entire body is rattling with frenetic energy and he wonders if he might crumple to the ground and spark like a downed power line if Josh were to let go of him.
“Jake,” his name is a coddling whisper on his twin's lips, “Leave. Now. C’mon, I’ll go with you. You know what’s best, I know you do.”
As it turns out, Jake doesn’t hit the ground like a live wire, because when he shoves Josh off, his footing is sure. “How did you know she was here? You knew? And you weren’t gonna fucking tell me? Have you seen her?”
Ashamed, and afraid of what’s to come, Josh remains silently stoic under his brother’s eager and furious scrutiny.
“I said, have you fucking seen her?” Now Jake’s body is vibrating with a fury so out of control it’s threatening to boil over and scald anyone in its path.
Suddenly, Danny appears as though summoned by the gods of intervention, as he so often seems to be. He steps in, tugging Jake away from his brothers while staring daggers at Sam.
Sam never fucking thinks…or is he the only one who is actually thinking clearly this time around?
“Come on,” Jake is stumbling around on his feet to keep up with a much larger Daniel, as he drags him along to his dressing room.
It feels like a fever dream when at last he pushes Jake into a chair before shutting their brothers out with a door slammed in their faces.
“Look,” he finds a seat in front of Jake and places a hand on his bouncing knee. “You’ve got to calm down and think for a minute. Do you really want to see her? I mean…”
He isn’t given the chance to finish his sentence, because nothing any of them can say will matter anyway.
“Take me to her.” Neither of them could have any way of knowing that Jake’s plea mirrors the one you had struggled to swallow down in Danny’s arms.
“I don’t know where she is.” He speaks in honesty, and Jacob can sense that.
“Find out.” He rises to his feet and straightens his back, resolved and ready to fight for this. Ready to fight for you. “Josh knows, that fuck. Go find out.”
“Alright,” Daniel nods because what’s to be done now? What’s to pointlessly fight? “Shower in here. I’ll go talk to him.”
~
You’re mindlessly staring at the television screen, gaze blurring and focusing in and out as some chef with a lovely accent you can’t seem to place tosses ingredients round a hissing wok.
The entire room is awash in the scent of the shower you’ve just wept your way through, and the robe you’re swaddled in feels stiff and scratchy. You should change, you know, but you haven’t the energy. Better to lie here uncomfortable and twisted up in aching sadness, that old friend of yours whom you’ve denied for far too long.
Lie to yourself all you want. Shove it inside a box and lock it up tight with chains and latches until it rusts shut, but that throbbing agony will wait patiently for you. Never losing focus, ever vigilant for the moment it can blast its way back into your broken heart.
How you’ll ever rise and put on a professional face for brunch in the morning is a cipher you don’t care to decode tonight.
He’s all you can think of; memories of him. Loneliness for him. The need, so real and palpable. It’s as if you can smell him on your skin though he hasn’t swept his fingers across it in years.
Years? How is that even possible? It seems laughable that you’ve managed so long without him. It seems impossible. A nightmare that you’ve been muddling through.
When the knock sounds out, clipped and sure, at your door, you’re tempted to ignore it - and you even give it a go, but it comes again along with a cheery greeting “Room service!”
You haven’t ordered room service at all, but there stands a smart looking hotel employee, dressed to the hilt in his crisp uniform, waiting patiently beside a cart, when you peer through the peep-hole.
Tightening that terrible robe, you crack open the door, readying to let him know he’s made a mistake, when a hand darts out to push several folded up bills into the server’s hand.
Stunned and struck silent, you manage only to stare as Jake gives thanks and sends him on his way, eyes never straying from your face.
He reaches for you instinctively, but thinks better of it and drops those hands you know so well to his sides, flexing them as if to shake the need to touch you away.
Instead, he opts to offer a soft smile and a gentle joke “Hey, sugar, how’d we get to this place where I’ve got to pay off hotel employees to knock on your door for me, hmm?”
“I—“ You give your head a tiny shake, begging the thoughts rattling around inside it to make sense.
He looks so different. His hair is shorter, and he’s filled out, thickened in a way that makes your throat constrict for all you’ve missed. He’s as beautiful as ever. Alluring and changed, but still just him. Familiar and breathtaking. Perfect and right. Yours. But yours no longer.
Strangely, it’s what he’s wearing that makes you weakest and a little unsteady. He’s dressed in tattered sweats and a beaten up t-shirt. Thrashed vans that were stark white in another life, and damp hair, clearly brushed in a hurry. You love this so much more than if he’d strutted back into your life dressed to the nines. You’d hate to think he’d forgotten you enough to think that sort of thing might impress you.
“Are you gonna invite me in or should I just stand out here in the hallway all night watching you?”
A laugh, breathy and dumbfounded, huffs out of you. You remember the first time he’d said those words to you, and surely he does too. Was that a calculated effort on his part? To remind you of where you’ve been together? Of who you were together?
It’s an awful, self-destructive idea, inviting him in, and you know it is, you do. But when he steps into the room, you can smell him and the fist that has been cruelly clenched around your heart for countless days and nights, relaxes and finally, finally, you can breathe.
The door closes with a click and he’s suddenly so close you could taste his breath if you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to sink into it.
“Hi, pretty girl,” He hushes, and you wish his mouth was pressed against your ear so you could secret that quiet greeting away and live on it for the rest of your days.
All that white-hot closeness morphs into a hug. He’s hiding behind the platonic gesture, and so are you, but he can feel it, the way your body tenses and then melts against his own.
He feels as if he might disintegrate into a puddle of blackened anguish if he ever has to let you go, forever staining the horrendous hotel flooring where you once stood like an ethereal phantom sent to mend his heart. But a hideous reminder of where you once existed in this room with him for a few precious moments.
His hands have touched too many bodies to count since he last held you, but he has felt nothing until this moment.
No, he loathes the thought of letting you go, but he pulls back anyway, readying to let you lead this interaction. Alas, his palms find your cheeks all on their own, cupping the beautiful face he’s bartered with the devil for, that he’s prayed to god for, that he’s raged and begged for.
“My girl,” he wonders, like you can’t possibly be real. “My fucking girl.”
Your hands are molded over his, how did that happen? And then he’s releasing your face in order to lace your fingers together…he longs to touch you everywhere, but that isn’t okay any longer, is it? So he’s desperate for a way to latch onto you innocently.
He feels it then, and holds fast when you try to pull your hand away. Gaze - gorgeous honey swirling with caramel and horror - locked in on yours, he turns your hand to inspect the ring perched there like a weapon sent to destroy him.
Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @profitofthedune @jakesgrapejuice @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake
#greta van fleet#greta van fleet fan fiction#greta van fleet smut#greta van fleet fic#fanfic#greta van fic#greta van smut#gvf fic#jake gvf#josh kiszka#jake kiszka#jake kiskza x reader#jake kiszka fanfiction#gvf jake#jake kiszka smut#josh kiskza smut#josh kiszka fic#josh kiskza fanfic#gvf josh#josh kiszka fanfiction#josh gvf
298 notes
·
View notes
Text
So I read @aughtpunk 's cotl forgiveness au in like 2 days and now I'm hyperfocusing on it. I just keep thinking of cute little things. Particularly between Shaun and kallamar. Aughtpunk probably shouldn't read this.
Like they have regular are-we-still-engaged chess matches. The first time kallamar wins, they regretfully tell the others the engagement is off. Most everyone is like, you were engaged?? How?? Since when?????? The next day they're engaged again. It great and not at all confusing. Pretty soon no one is sure if the engagement is even real or not. Don't ask kallamar, he's not 100% sure either. Like they play games to see who's responsible for the flowers or menu decisions but is it real? Half the group is sure it isn't until it's the night before the wedding and Holy shit this is actually happening wtf and Shaun is just so disappointed in them. Kallamar is too, right my love? Kallamar is like, yeah, I can't believe they doubted the seriousness of this situation. Internally he's screaming. Shaun also didn't think it was that serious but over time he got sick of people shit talking kallamar to his face so he was like, now I gotta marry him in the biggest most amazing wedding ever. I just gotta.
I also just like the idea that they would use games to settle most disagreements. They watch eachothers strategies and moods to figure out how serious they need to be. If it's a lighthearted thing then they joke the whole time and whoever wins, wins. Gg. If it's something more important to one than the other then they give a good game but let that person win since clearly this is a significant matter. If it's an important matter to both, they use the game as something of a distraction. I can't kill you for not understanding exactly where I'm coming from by magically reading my mind if I'm too busy trying to figure out if the move you just made is even legal. By the end of the match, whomever wins, it comes out as more of a compromise.
They do have this problem where if they don't have a clear goal for a game, it can escalate into terrible ends. Like Shaun makes a flirty double entendre about calamari, kallamar says something gross about cannibalism, suddenly its 3 am, they're in the kitchen with heket who is waaaay too happy about cooking some of her brother's flesh with the intention of giving it to his ex-fiancee to eat (shaun being grossed out by cannibalism made him lose), and questioning all of their life choices.
Oh and after wedding thought. Shaun asks narinder for a life flower (that what I've been calling them in my head). Narinder is grossed out but Shaun gives this whole speech about how they aren't gonna use it now, he just wants to show kallamar that he did notice that he wasnt sure how serious he was about the wedding but he is very serious about wanting to have this life together with him and growing their family together. Narinder does reluctantly give him a flower. Little while later kallamar asks for the same thing. His explanation is a little more based in logic. They've talked about children before and he's probably gonna be the one carrying them so it just makes sense for him to have the flower. Everyone is like aww they're gonna present these flowers to eachother and it's gonna be cute or something. Meanwhile kallamar is confirming that he and his husband aren't needed for anything else tonight and maybe the flower might work if brewed into a tea but eh it's better to not chance it and just. Fucking. Eats it. Right there. Infront of God (poor jake) and everybody. Did his husband see that? No, of course not. That would prevent any miscommunication drama. It's like, dude, did you guys plan on that or...? And kallamar is like, we've had some of the most important discussions about this already, I fail to see why we can't start trying now. And then he leaves to go spend his wedding with Shaun in private and now the whole family has no idea what to do with themselves. They did not need this information.
I also have thoughts for their kids. First set is twins. They are cute. They look like normal lambs just tinted blue. At first. They actually have tendrils they hide amongst their wool. They're also good at team hunting. If you see the both of them, it's safe. If you only see one, it's a distraction, turn around, you are being ambushed.
These are just fun little thoughts I had. Feel free to ignore me.
34 notes
·
View notes
Note
Forgive me if this is inflammatory or something, but a criticism that I have of the WoF books (arc 3 onward but the latter half of arc 2 showed the beginnings of it as well) is that it really feels like tui’s writing and prose has… downgraded? I’m not sure if it’s just me, but it was absolutely glaring in the WoF guidebook. Having adult/elderly characters and even ones in government roles speak in a manner indistinguishable from the toddlers written alongside them is. a choice, i think. It feels like she’s leaning too heavily on the humor of “serious thing to unsERIOUS THING THAT DESTROYS THE MOOD OF THE CURRENT SCENE” if that makes sense? Which is a shame; I really feel like her writing peaked at Darkstalker, which I feel had an even mix of that brand of humor, other expressions of it, and scenes and dialogue that can be fully taken seriously. The first arc and first half of arc 2 also shared that balance. Arc 3 was where it became obvious. I have other issues with arc 3, but I feel like the change in writing style is the most distracting, to me- It was grating enough that I couldn’t get through the third arc. I don’t care for any of its writing choices but I could have at least read it if the style hadn’t changed in that way.
Sorry that this has kind of become a ramble. I’m a weirdo who actively enjoys discussions that amount to “this thing i like kind of sucks <3” but I agree that a lot of people with a similar attitude about it should focus a bit more on what’s drawn and kept them with this series.
I hope you’re having a great day!
As a fan of the MonsterVerse Godzilla movies, I am very familiar with “this thing I like kind of sucks ❤️” discussions.
Anyway, I agree with this a lot. I enjoyed the Guidebook, but the writing shift was more glaring than it had been before for me, even though it had also really bothered me with books 14 and 15.
The section with Queen Coral really got on my nerves honestly. I don’t think she was ever this absurdly over-the-top in The Lost Heir? She feels indistinguishable from Kinkajou or Cricket going on long nerdy rambles. Like girl, you are 65, please stop overexerting yourself before you get a heart attack. There are similar moments in Book 14 and 15, either with characters like Snowfall that never stop screaming in all caps, or with the prose itself having very juvenile wording. I agree with you that arcs 1 and 2 had a better balance with this, I’m never annoyed when I read them like I am with the later half of arc 3. It makes me wonder if I might just skip out entirely on arc 4 since it’s likely the whole thing will be written this way. I understand if it’s Tui’s attempt to gear the series more towards it’s target audience, but when characters screaming nonsense in all caps is contrasted with oppression and psychological horror, I’m really not into it. I feel like your ask put it best, I really don’t have that much to add lol.
27 notes
·
View notes
Note
Well, since the idea of it is what got me to go watch Hannibal...Do tell about Unsustainable (Dreamling Hannibal AU)!!! :D
(I think you probably know all there is to know already 😅 because sadly I didn't work on it one bit since its inception... I know, I'm sorry. The Hannibal mood is a hard one to achieve and stay in for long enough. But I still love it and hope I'll write more for it someday. I think it can only profit from me gaining more writing experience in the meantime!)
Unsustainable is a Dreamling AU with the premise that Dream comes out of the fishbowl broken, and with a grudge. Here's a good summary I wrote a long while back:
Hob doesn’t know Dream personally. He got his immortality from Death, he has a standing appointment with her, not Dream. Dream has only watched those meetings but always declined his sister’s invitation to join them and get to know Hob. He has started to watch him and his dreams more closely though after 1689, has sent him appropriate nightmares after 1789, has in fact indulged more and more in watching him. So much, that he is focused on Hob alone as a possible ally after his escape. His imprisonment has made Dream cruel, almost feral, but his exemplary control allows him to hide that dark side rising inside him.
He approaches Hob and finds it not hard at all to convince him to help him get revenge after a few meetings. Dream becomes more and more obsessed with Hob, he wants him to be the mongoose under the house when the snakes slither by. He also wants him in every other conceivable way.
Hob is not averse, not at all, he’s head over heels for this beautiful brother of his stranger, he has finally found someone who knows him, needs him, can be there forever if he doesn’t chase him away, so he’s careful and kind. He soon realises that Dream does not want him to be kind, though, does in fact seem to revel in it when Hob loses his temper. The things Dream asks him to do are nothing to an ex-soldier and he believes he is giving bad people their just desserts. The weird behaviour of some of them, as if they are dreaming, makes him wonder, though.
It features a lot of dark themes - revenge; murder and violence; Hob being into near-death experiences; Morpheus praising the Corinthian instead of atomising him; mind fuckery and gaslighting-
it's a heavy one and I honestly don't know if I can ever pull it off, it's a bit different from the things I usually write. But I might just be in the mood to explore it again one day :3
until then, have a bit of what I've already written (I've forgotten if I've already shared it, sorry):
The King of Dreams! What a wonder!
Hob loves this.
"Pleasure to meet you, Morpheus. Your majesty. What do you prefer? But I warn you, I am not a fan of monarchy and a peasant at heart. So forgive me if I, ah, behave like a boor."
He winks cheekily at the other and sees his nostrils flare in irritation. He does not seem angry, though. He looks... curious.
"Morpheus is fine. I will not stand on ceremony with one I...would like to call... friend. Hob Gadling."
He leans back in his chair and tilts his head back a fraction, looking at Hob down his perfect long nose. He gives a miniscule smirk and adds:
“I also believe you to be perfectly capable of quite a number of things. Including courtly manners. Do not sell yourself short… Sir Robert Gadlen.”
Hob sucks in a breath and twitches his fingers restlessly. He can barely refrain from jiggling his leg, so thrilled is he. This man, this…being, knows him! Knows him like Death knows him! He grins and leans back to hide his twitching fingers under the table and grip his trouser leg instead.
“So tell me, brother of Death. Why did you decide to meet me? I believe she has invited you to join us a number of times. You never came. Why now?”
The red pinpricks of light in the Dreamking’s eyes flicker. His smile grows for a moment before his face becomes deadly serious.
“My sister has praised you, Hob Gadling. You are. A good friend to her. She believes you can be a good friend to me as well.”
He leans forward and puts his hands on the table between them, palms up like an offering, an invitation, a question.
“I am in need. Of a friend. Someone who will help me. Retrieve what was stolen from me.”
Morpheus’ blue eyes are boring holes into Hob’s and Hob shivers and blinks. He licks his lips again and then, cautiously, reaches out for one of the bone white hands on the table. The moment he comes into touching distance Morpheus pulls his hands back, eyes wide. He flicks his gaze down and away and then up again to meet Hob’s once more and Hob feels like he has just stuck his hand into the cage of a tiger. Morpheus’ eyes burn with a fiery red light. He swallows and Hob tracks the movement of his Adam's apple, feeling his own throat go dry.
He clears it awkwardly and puts his hand palm down on the table. Clearly touching doesn’t seem to be a good idea just yet.
“If you are in trouble, I am happy to help”, he says, smiling gently at the other who still looks like a spooked animal ready to attack. At Hob’s quiet words the man blinks and, in a second, regains his composure, his face giving nothing of the obvious discomfort he just felt away. Hob breathes an inconspicuous sigh of relief, feeling like he just avoided getting his throat ripped out by a feral beast.“I would. Very much appreciate that.” Death’s brother says in his deep rumble of a voice and Hob signals the waiter for another pint.
“Then let’s talk.”
#dreamling#the sandman fanfiction#asks#fic: unsustainable#dark!Dream#dreamling hannibal au#teejay writes
18 notes
·
View notes
Note
But “hallucinating” was reverse comfort, it was good btw, but tbh its not what I need…
So could u please do my request?? Its okay if u can’t/don’t want too
Thanks <3
oh forgive my dumb ass💀💀
i didn’t really know how to name it, so enjoy!!
genre: hurt/comfort
with Tsukishima Kei
words: 722
this day was beyond horrifying. your education, your job. it all fell apart so fast that you realized what happened only when you almost got home. your scholarship has been canceled for unknown reasons, your workplace just got closed for technical repairs for at least 5 months. and now you didn’t know what money to use to pay for this semester and to barely live. you couldn’t continue thinking of it. the more you thought, the more terrible it got. Kei reached you almost an hour ago when your boss told you about the temporary close and you said that Tsukishima could go to sleep without you. a sudden strike near lungs. it was too heavy to breathe. Kei. you couldn’t drag him into this. your legs were touching the stairs by themselves. you mechanically opened the door and took the coat off. your brain was shut off. it really didn’t matter what you were doing. actually none of this mattered. step. how are you going to pay for studying now? step. what about studying abroad? step. kei can’t afford paying for two of us. step. is this really how it all should go? you didn’t notice how eventually you made it to the balcony. the air here was different because of the flowers all the way down. you didn’t care about that. you were staring at the flickering lamp down the street. you wanted to cry but couldn’t. the inner voice parroted that you should man up. you giggled at that as your fingers were desperately trying to find an answer in your hair. it all seemed unreal. this light, this night, everything. it’s just a someone’s joke testing your patience. suddenly you felt a patting on your shoulder. “I am that unattractive in my sleep so you’re spending the night on the balcony?” Kei was checking your mood by attentively watching your reaction to this comment. you were still watching the flickering. Tsukishima tried to approach your face “Hey, I—.” you embraced him as soon as he got closer. Kei got terrified as he felt you shivering. you were trembling. all of it all of the sudden fell at your shoulders. the heaviness of helplessness was devastating. the crying couldn’t be held back anymore. you had no idea what is going to happen next. and only here with Tsukishima you thought it was safe. it was yet the best moment of this day. to feel Kei Tsukishima just like that next to you. even though the reason wasn’t that romantic and happy.
and he never saw you like that. and that’s why he didn’t know exactly how to react. he wanted to kill anyone who made you feel like this. he wanted to solve all the problems that caused that desperate seek for help. he wanted to scream at you because you were too proud to ask for help. he wanted to make things alright. he wanted to make you alright. Kei wasn’t sure what he needs to do right now while you had him like that. but Tsukishima couldn’t hear you cry either. so he was tenderly holding your arms as he got to one knee. Kei thought it was wrong to be higher than you now. he looked at you up and down. he felt rage, ruefulness, confusion and concern. all of it at the same time. Tsukishima tilted his head as his hand carefully lifted up your chin. your lips tensed. you tried to look away because you didn’t want Kei to see you like this. all messed up, eyes red from crying. “Come on” Tsukishima pulled you to him making you want sob more and more. Kei wanted you to know what he cares and wants to help. you had to lower a bit to meet his prickly shoulder. he was holding your head, still standing on one knee, and started stroking your back as his lips were convincing your shoulder that everything was going to be okay. Kei dug into your skin hell-bent while he was trying to think of how he was going to help you. that definitely was going to leave bruises. with every kiss Tsukishima gave you, his hands tightened a bit more as he was scared to see you hurt again and to be not able to be there for you.
#haikyu!!#haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader#haikyuu#hurt/comfort#tsukishima x reader#haikyuu tsukishima#tsukishima x you#tsukishima kei#tsukishima#kei tsukishima
82 notes
·
View notes
Note
(holding the scraps of Chaotic Heroic Act 3, contemplatively)
Egh... hey, ah, Empress Nero... if we, uh...
... if we found a... really grim portent...
... when would be a good time to ruin the mood?
Asking cuz I think we found Act 3, and it's rather...
There was a short moment of silence as NERO read, and then as it was passed around to the others to read. Eventually, it found its way back to Nero.
CONSTANTINE placed a hand on her shoulder, with a worried look.
CONSTANTINE: "…Antecessor Nero…"
NERO shook her head, folding it up and casually sticking it within her bosom for storage. MUSASHI whistled. CONSTANTINE frowned.
CONSTANTINE: "Antecessor Nero."
NERO: "Do not worry for me. I am well. An Emperor knows better than to cry around her peers. I will say this- I won't forgive that Titan. I will not be satisfied until I am victorious..."
With that statement, it seemed as if the air changed from quiet contemplation to tactical plotting incredibly quickly.
NERO: "Let us see… a Rider, a Caster, a Saber, a Foreigner, and an Avenger… and of course, whatever you are, my Ensemble. Perhaps you're the key, as you were the gestalt necro-weapon born from the Moon, and presumably one of the Titan's thralls. I'd hope so, as I do not believe we have the firepower ourselves."
She began, with a stately tone.
KUKULKAN: "Nothing's changed then! We protect the Masters with everything we have!"
MUSASHI: "So, the goal is simple. Gain the permission to leave from the Lair Servants, and then reach the Moon, and then win."
AVENGER: "They'll will need to pass Saber first. With that being the case, would that not mean that Saber's alliance is with the former 'Interlopers', rather than the current? Making him an enemy of the Solar Cell, and a prospective pawn of the White Titan?"
The Avenger's voice rumbled and echoed throughout the camp, causing the campfire itself to shudder as his shadowed form grew slightly more tangible.
CONSTANTINE: "…Right. That White Program… and what was happening to those Valkyrie..."
MUSASHI: "That, in addition to Saber and Caster going at each other's throats… if I didn't know any better, I'd think there's a storm on the horizon…"
AVENGER: "The War is over, so attention must be shifting elsewhere."
MUSASHI: "Yeah, I got that from my source too. Let's scratch everything- forget red versus blue, we're dealing with four potential factions."
KUKULKAN: "Right. First, the Lair Servants- Servants that have been summoned to the Solar Cell. We'll say that their 'Master' is the 'Heavenly Divinity' that everyone keeps going on about, though who knows how their contract works. Let's call them the 'Keepers of the Solar Cell', for simplicity. Or the Sun Buddies, maybe? That's cute, yes?"
NERO: "Of course, there are Servants like you, Lady Musashi. Rogue entities that have the capacity to join our cause."
KUKULKAN: "Saber has the Origins of… what was it? Berserker, Rider, Foreigner, and… Caster? And Lancer is a Lair Servant now, so that means… potentially Assassin and Archer, yes? Those are the only ones left?"
AVENGER: "In the case that they're alive and can be reasoned with anyhow…"
NERO: "Or their Spirit Origins haven't been altered, or used to summon a new Servant. We can't assume that trick can only belong to the Masters."
CONSTANTINE: "Then, there are the now rogue Servants from the War. Chances are that most of them are gone, faded away without any sort of Mana Regeneration or Independent Action skill, unless they're being very careful about the souls they're stealing for mana- enough so that they don't get slaughtered by the local Lair Servant. Let's… assume that means at the very minimum, the Red Archer remains… and pray that I'm proven wrong."
KUKULKAN: "…And finally, Saber. Visiting his city, I don't think mana resources is a problem, yes? And he has claimed two major territories. The Hamlet alone had very good leylines thanks to Doctor Asclepius… if he was smart, he'd turn that place into a battery, yes? It's not as if there are people there to oppose any terraforming."
CONSTANTINE: "To clarify- four factions. The Keepers of the Solar Cell--"
MUSASHI: "--Sun Buddies. I like what Kuku said."
CONSTANTINE: "…Keepers of the Solar Cell, then King Charlemagne's Army, Rogue Servants drifting around from the prior wars, and us."
NERO: "Lots to think about… ugh, my migraine is coming back. I'm going to retire to my chambers. Go team, and all that."
With that, she clutched her head and stumbled off to her own tent.
MUSASHI: "...Sheesh... she knows she doesn't have to try and keep it together for us, right?"
CONSTANTINE: "Pride is important to an Emperor. Still... she has a point. This is a lot to take in. Resting our eyes and our minds for at least a little while is probably the best course."
With that, you watched as the camp grew more and more silent as each Servant vanished off to their respective quarters, leaving you alone in the night air for a moment.
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Okie-dokes: I'm very late to reporting on Dangerous Romance, episode 3, and listen -- listen. A lot of you know I'm in a compromised life state at the moment, --
(I'M MOVING. HOW. IN THE HELL. DO I OWN. SO MUCH. JUST. FUCKING SHIT. HOW DID I FIT SO MUCH SHIT INTO THIS PLACE THAT I AM LEAVING. OH MY GODDAMN WHAT THE FUCK. LET ME BECOME A MONK AND GIVE UP ALL THIS CRAP.)
-- yes, compromised life state, lol, and can't give too much thought to good meta at the moment. (I had to pause Not Me for the Old GMMTV Challenge because even just three episodes in, I knew it was SO GOOD that it deserves my undivided attention.)
So, yeah, brain is out of service at the moment, and then we have THIS episode of Dangerous Romance, and let me just note: y'all, Dangerous Romance was trending on Tumblr even through Only Friends Saturday last weekend (with Only Friends NOT trending, mind you). DR is clearly serving something (.....sigh, ships) that OF is not giving the fandom girlies, and man, did DR just lay it on THICK this week, huh?
I will admit. I'm a touch bummed. I LOVE PERTH AND CHIMON. I LOOOOOVVVVE THEM, YER HONORESSES! UNABASHEDLY. Yes, I love their faces. I DO, NO SHAME. I love their acting, too! I love them, like ::waves hands in circles:: all of it, all of them. I was hoping they'd chomp into a meatier show.
This is not that show. The puppy music, the reeeeeally fast swings into sympathy and "oh, you're my tutor now, bro, and I will spill all my feelings to you," IN ENGLISH AND KOREAN -- and just a touch of a class division conversation by way of Kang homey buying Sailom homey an extra dinner to-go. Sailom is now Kang's... confidante? Kang wants to make someone, anyone, proud, and it looks like Sailom is the guy.
I mean, this episode was all over the place, but....
Forgive me, meta angels, because this is EXACTLY what I need right now, omg. I'm mentally done, I'm toast! Not to say that I'm not going to enjoy Only Friends tomorrow! I am going to totally eat OF up.
But I will ROBUSTLY ADMIT to ALSO being okay with PerthChimon fan service at the moment. Unfortunately for any of my hopes of them being in a more dramatically complicated series: they still have hilarious chemistry. They're actual real bros in real life (Papang smh lol). They're clearly having fun doing this together, like OhmPerth in Double Savage. Chimon's facial expressions are outta control (that look on his face when Perth/Kang accelerated the bike? I cackled).
This is fluff! As @lurkingshan noted -- a recalibration of expectations is in order for this show. I'm taking this show right now as 100% fan service from my PerthChimon wub woobies. Perth and Chimon (and really, the co-director of this show, Lit Phadung of SOTUS and SOTUS S) -- these dudes know the score. Perth and Chimon have been around for a minute. You need two dudes to dial up to 10 on fluff BL? They have those tropes so memorized that it's burned in their bones. Put 'em in coach, they're ready to play.
If I take this show on THAT tip, then -- as an aiming-to-be-classic romance BL, then it's doing something.... if not right, then at least aligned to some tropes simply by mood. I'm curious about Sailom's flashbacks to Kang's bullying, but I don't have the strength or mindpower to read into it. If a reference back to the bullying comes -- or not -- then, whatever. This show is clearly, at the moment, trying to achieve a more simple goal than I expected of it, but I'm not gonna write it off. I'll thoroughly enjoy Perth and Chimon being poodles to each other -- gimme.
I was wondering to @lurkingshan and @neuroticbookworm earlier today that I had previously wondered WHY GMMTV would air Dangerous Romance during the Only Friends run, especially with ALL the marketing hype around Only Friends before it premiered. At the time, it seemed to me to be a pre-emptive gong strike on Dangerous Romance. Now it makes me wonder -- did GMMTV want to cover its bases by placing a classic fluff BL on air, to protect the network from losing fandom points through Only Friends? I can only wonder. If some ships are exploding through OF -- then the network can hand PerthChimon over and say, hey, we haven't forgotten our shipping roots, girlies.
Kinda makes me think. In any case -- Shan is right. I'm recalibrated on Dangerous Romance, I'm watching this literally to see PerthChimon ham it up, annnnnddd yeah, that's about it! At this point, give me the make-out sessions, give me pool time, gimme. I unabashedly stan and simp. If we get some real drama out of this show -- it will be a wonderful surprise. I just hope the show doesn't veer into totally unwatchable territory.
#dangerous romance#dangerous romance the series#dangerous romance meta#perthchimon#kang x sailom#sailon x kang#perth tanapon#chimon wachirawit#i'm on my 100th rewatch of until we meet again at the moment and really loving the little perth bits too#so perth and chimon are my stress woobies huh#i wouldn't have called that#but life throws you curves i guess#i want a PURE comedy BL from thailand#just pure straight comedy#if they turned this show into comedy with perthchimon as leads i think it'd be golden
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
Daily Life, Customs - Halenthir
I originally didn't want to post this to Tumblr (because I am very lazy), but the replies were too good not to put them up!
I shall submit to you the letter such as it's been written by me, and the replies I've gotten <3
To Lady Haleth, daughter of Haldad, independent noblewoman agent abiding in the vicinity,
I beg you to forgive me for addressing this appallingly forward impertinent missive to one undoubtedly as busy as you, but I merely seek to reassure you on the delicate subject of the caravans of strangers that might well cross your territory anon.
Fear not, Milady, ‘tis due to the tax season and—as such—of no concern to you. I shan’t bore you with the tiresome details of the administrative proceedings and laws underlying this process as you’ve previously informed me, in no unclear terms and on more than one occasion, that my “lordly dog and pony show” left you entirely pococurante.
Thus, I only wish to duly advise you, as any good friend neighbour would, of the upcoming upheaval so you may take the precautions you deem necessary for your own safety and that of your people.
As you’re not one of my subjects, though, I do not, in whatever shape or form, lay any claim on the fruits of your labour or any other part of your precious life. This, as you may have deduced correctly, is another sincere vow I seek to reiterate solemnly.
Verily, no secret design nor nefarious ploy moves me to regrettably rusty penmanship! I prythee, do not doubt my best intentions on the grounds of a probably less-than-sublime execution—be more merciful and forgiving than my kin would have been.
In hopes that your health is excellent and your mood amenable to forgive so impudent a communication, I dare extend my most affectionate respectful greetings to you.
Morifinwë Carnistir, Lord of Thargelion (even though a group of unruly louts, pelting me with offal and ugly produce, has been known to confer the ungracious title of “cranky red-faced ghoul” upon me).
(to rewrite after the meeting)
To Carnistir Morifinwë, son of the flammable Elf and his crafty wife, brother to many a fearsome warrior, Lord of Thargelion, and so on and so forth,
Greetings! You stuffy, old fool! (I call you “Poppy” in private for you’re enchantingly dark, beautifully red, and all around utterly mind-addling, but that is—as you’d say—of “no consequence” in these matters. Nevertheless, if you’re dismayed by the juvenile misbehaviour of the previously referenced ne’er-do-wells, I shall take it upon myself to chide them appropriately—you might not be our Lord, but I dare consider you a respected neighbour, nevertheless.)
It seems that a dutiful servant has sent off your draft before you could amend it—it gladdens my heart to learn that even the mighty Elven Lord in his draughty fortress doesn’t write a perfect letter on the first try. I shall cherish this missive (as well as its proof of endearing fallibility and uncertainty) until my dying day!
Furthermore, I’m delighted to earnestly assure you that I—unlike you—am indeed not in the habit of being overly discountenanced by passing strangers, wishing me no harm, and paying me no heed. Thus, there’s certainly no need to upset your delicate stomach on my behalf.
Moreover, I want to generously remind you that—whatever you think to claim or not from me—you know where to find me; my door is always open, and I’d be honoured to welcome you in my humble abode.
Link on Ao3
#og post#IDNMT writes#fanfiction#writing#tolkien writing#jrrt#Epistolary Week 2024#Interactive event#write me a letter#silmarillion epistolary#Halenthir#Haleth#Caranthir#Daily Life#Customs
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
spoilers for part 2 murim arc +++
while i understand that the common take on sui is that by far he's more or less a flat character that the author doesn't really know what to do with and hence uses him as more or less of a laugh track — and while i think that's hilarious, i also think there's deefinitely a little more to it from where that came from.
i also desperately want you to keep in mind that almost everything that kim roksoo - now cale has learnt is directly from his experiences at team 1 under soohyuk - now sui's wing. we know this from the test at the sealed god's temple where cale had tried to communicate with his gang via sgt!krs using the cintamani. that poor boy was so awkward.. my sgrungly crimblo...
let's start with how he's introduced! he finds cale in orsena's duchy and they essentially just have a staring contest for a while before sui joins the party. i.. i am not going to lie, while i was a tiny bit disappointed that they didn't have an emotional reunion, a little reflection on their situation and dimensions as characters made me quickly realise that it was no time or position to have a touching re-contact with each other.
mainly, i think this is because sui khan is guilty. he lives with the guilt of leaving cale behind, and he lives with the guilt of knowing that he eventually has to ask for cale's help regarding his own bird clan — as briefly touched upon in one of the earlier chapters.
his existence in xiaolen was barely there, he'd mostly spent his time with the kids, and volunteered to go spying without even having to be asked — while this may be perceived with the idea that lee soo hyuk prided himself in his abilities of stealth, it's also...
"our little sui wanted some air." maybe i'm looking too deep into this, but it seems that even cale picks up on the fact that sui is restless and uneasy for whatever reason and used it to jab at him as a joke.
skipping forward to when cale had to choose a party for his trip to jungwon, he more or less truly did not require sui's presence there besides for the fact of moral support.
and i think.. sui picked up on that, because he suddenly has this air of mischief to him, and while i definitely don't think that he's by any means faking his laughter, i also think he's genuinely masking his worries, concern and guilt by throwing lighthearted jokes to jab at himself and at cale, more or less as a silent apology of sorts.
he's also mentioned to be by cale's side much more often, whether or not this is because cale is in the body of the weak kim roksoo, nobody really knows. but i think cale thinks that's the real reason.
and while i seriously might be looking too deeply into things; these three instances 100% stood out to me.
(forgive me for the off-quote as i am going off of angie's summaries + poor machine translation via google lens)
1. when the emperor of jungwon had asked cale his name, it's specifically mentioned that he glances at sui who nods his head to encourage him. cale then smiles and states that his name is cale henituse
2. when the whole gag of sui making up murim versions of the entire team's names were going on, it's mentioned that cale had originally thought sui was going to give cale the name "kim roksoo", and its further mentioned that sui paused before saying gae-il (as a joke) then settling with hae-il instead.
3. after that whole exchange is over, they'd joked around with each other, "young master kim", "noble warrior lee". further proceeding past this instance, cale's little shit switch finally turns on and he monologues about how he begins to ignore sui's comments and even contemplates if he should call sui "young warrior lee" instead.
now, don't look at me like i'm crazy, please!! cause i'm well aware these are more or less the most normal instances to mankind that yrh may have just put in here to keep the mood lighthearted. but since when has yrh ever written fluff without the underlying gut-wrenching angst? keke
i seriously think this exchange between the two is their whole "reunion" talk, between two clearly emotionally distanced men, between them who were once best friends, but are now still finding the middle ground to interact with each other. their care and trust in each other remains the same, perhaps has even grown greatly, but in order to avoid accidentally doing damage, they try to find their own little safespace in the dynamics they've created with each other in earth 1 before lee soo hyuk had passed on.
i think sui definitely is bottling up a lot of things he'd rather not say to his dongsaeng who is still definitely struggling and has his plate full with the concerns of his own family and other dimensions. i think sui will finally get the push he needs soon, and i think that rereading part 2 with sui's inevitable arc in mind will be a juicy heartbreaker due to all the subtle and nuanced instances the author littered here and there.
while i agree that murim arc is most certainly sort of dragging on in the last 5 or so chapters, i still really really enjoy the direction part 2 is going in, and am eagerly waiting for more. choi jungsoo's appearance is going to break me in 10 halves, i'm most certainly not ready.
here's to manifesting soos reunion on monday chapter 900! here's to law of the hunt already reaching a 100 chapters!!
tl;dr - sui is a pro at masking. the soos.. definitely need closure, and the foreshadowing of it happening soon is driving me insane enough to theorise about it!!
#i cant believe the soos are making me write those theory posts that i detest reading..#trash of the count's family#lout of the count’s family#tcf lee soo hyuk#cale henituse#tcf#tcf choi jung soo#lee soo hyuk#tcf spoilers#tcf part 2
97 notes
·
View notes
Text
2023 LUNAR NEW YEAR PREDICTIONS
Pick a pile and get a reading <3
Pile one
10 of pentacles, the Moon, The Wheel of Fortune, 6 of cups.
Channelled message: Thank you for being so patient.
2022 probably was very negative/uneventful; you reflected on yourself A LOT. I see you even doing shadow work. Luckily, in 2023 the period of melancholy ends. I see you getting out of old cycles/breaking old patterns. You healed your inner child; may approach things in a different, more playful way.
You are blessed by sudden positive change; lots of good luck and you being at the right place at the right time.
I see material abundance and emotional fulfillment. Perhaps, this year you are going to spend a lot of time with people you consider family.
You may visit your childhood home and people/things from the past may comeback to you.
10 and 6 are your lucky numbers. 10 symbolizes a lucky fresh start, 6 represents restoration of peace/harmony.
If you enjoy my readings, please consider donating <3
KO-FI
PAYPAL.ME
___________________________________
Pile two
King of swords rx, 3 of swords rx, the Emperor, the Tower.
Channelled message: Tapping into your inner rage is good for your health sometimes .
I see you quitting your job or education this year. Feels like you have an overbearing boss/professor who was not competent; perhaps the boss/professor abused their power and took advantage of you. You finally had enough and decided to walk away. The resentment has been building up for a long time, but you kept it to yourself. You tolerated their bullshit and then decided to silently resign, surprising them as they did not expect for it to happen.
They will beg for you to come back. You already made up your mind though; you left everything behind and burned this bridge forever.
I would advise you to have a good plan since quitting a job/uni can have serious consequences, however, my advice is definitely not needed. I am picking up your energy, and you are an absolute boss ass bitch. You are a strategist who thinks everything through, always five steps ahead of everyone. You are a highly intellectual, precise, and disciplined person.
Allow yourself to be more impulsive from time to time.
If you enjoy my readings, please consider donating <3
KO-FI
PAYPAL.ME
___________________________________
Pile three
King of cups rx, the High priestess rx, queen of swords rx, 9 of cups rx, 2 of wands, the Magician, ace of swords.
Channelled message: The only difference between you and the person you envy is the level of confidence.
For now (the very beginning of a new year) your energy is blocked. You feel stuck and unmotivated. I can sense some cynicism/pessimistic outlook in life from this pile; you probably have a generally passive approach to pretty much everything.
All of it is such a shame because you genuinely have the potential to make ALL of your dreams come true. It is crazy how much power your mind holds yet you just refuse to acknowledge it.
You have to remember that you are not a TV/film character — no one will give you a sudden plot twist love interest while you barely leave your house. It is delusional to expect that life will unfold its wonders when you refuse to take action. You have to take charge of your own destiny.
Go out. Put yourself out there.
Instead of seeing yourself as a character, approach life like a screenwriter. What plot lines would you add to make your own story compelling?
If you enjoy my readings, please consider donating <3
KO-FI
PAYPAL.ME
___________________________________
Happy lunar new year! Hope the reading resonated <3
#lunar new year#Chinese new year#2023 predictions#tarot reading#free tarot#tarot community#tarot witch#free pick a card#pick a card reading#witch#astrology#numerology#year of the rabbit#chinese zodiac#Spotify
87 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
fishy-exe
Handsome Jackass
soultrails
The Living Write
niqhtmeep
MopMeep
tits4tatsandcoconuts
Untitled