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aureatchi · 5 months

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⛇₊˚ʚ₊˚✧ SANTA TELL ME IF HE REALLY CARES ft. dazai, chuuya, ranpo, fyodor, nikolai, sigma

the pm is hosting a christmas party for yokohama! everyone is encouraged to bring a gift for the people they love…so what do the bsd men get you?

info. fem!reader. sm fluff. profanities from chuuya ofc LOL, them trying to outdo each other for you. pm hq has a rooftop floor here. implied reader is in the ada. wc. 3.1k

You walked inside the lavish lobby of the port mafia headquarters to be greeted by DAZAI, who immediately embraced you in his arms.

“Bella! You made it!” he exclaimed, pulling you in. You could feel the heat of his body warming you up, relieving you of the chilly weather outside.

“Of course, Osamu,” you giggled. “Wouldn’t want to miss something super special as this.”

Still trapping you in his hug, he led you down the hallway, one hand moving to playfully pat your head. Security guards parted to let the two of you through, entering the room where everyone was.

“So many people!” you exclaimed when you entered the headquarters’ formal dining hall decorated in Christmas festivities. Everyone was either chatting about or gathering by a table to get sweet desserts or hot chocolate.

“Want some hot chocolate to warm up, angel?” Dazai asked, looking towards the line.

“No thanks,” you replied. “You’ve warmed my heart up already.”

He gave you a smug smile in response, but you didn’t miss the light pink that also flushed his cheeks.

“Come over here.”

You followed Dazai as he made his way to a different table filled with wrapped presents and bags alike.

Dazai took one of them—the gift bag in your favorite color and handed it to you.

“For the gift exchange,” he smiled. “Merry Christmas, bella. I hope you like it.”

Your eyes lit up in joy, grateful and excited to see what he had gotten you. “Thank you!”

The first thing you pulled out of the bag was a custom heart pendant in your preferred metal—Dazai knew whether you liked silver or gold better. When you unclasped the locket, you saw matching pictures of you and Dazai inside, both bundled up in the snow. It was a good memory to look back at.

“This is so cute, Osamu.” You closed the locket and let the brunette place the jewelry around your neck.

“It looks even better on you.”

The second thing inside the bag was a box. Pulling it out, you saw that it was a Lego flower set.

“As much as you love flowers, they don’t last forever. However, these do!” You grinned widely at the thought and matching gift—Dazai always easily recalled your favorite things.

“We can build them together, too,” he continued, and you gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I love them. You’re amazing at getting gifts.”

“I wouldn’t expect that at all.” Your attention was brought to the ginger-haired who had his arms crossed beside the both of you, a cheeky grin on his face. CHUUYA had a mug of eggnog in his hand, though you knew for sure he’d rather have a glass of red wine reserved for the evening party instead.

“Chuuya!”

“What’s up, doll?” he smiled, a different, sweeter tone entirely, as he strode towards you.

“What do you mean by that?” Dazai asked, referring to Chuuya’s earlier comment.

“Thought your taste in gifts would be shitty, just like you,” he chuckled as you greeted him with a hug.

“Hey, that’s a bit rude,” you whispered.

“Oh really?” Dazai responded with his own sarcastic laugh. “I’m not sure you could do any better.”

“You really underestimate me! Come with me, baby…we’re going to prove to the-thing-that-comes-with-the-discounted-bandages who really knows what to get a lady for Christmas!”

Dazai stood, jaw dropped, dramatically offended as Chuuya pulled you away.

You two walked to the other side of the room, where there were even more gifts under one of the many Christmas trees in the hall.

“Bastard,” Chuuya sulked under a scowl, picking up a box wrapped in crimson red, his statement color.

You chuckled in amusement. He riled up so easily, over something so trivial. “Don’t worry about him, Chuu. I already know I’m going to like what you got.”

“Ya better,” he replied, but cheered up from your words. “Are you able to hold it?”

He handed you the box, hovering his arms below for support in case you dropped it. Though it was a larger package, it was still a bit heavier than you expected.

“Yeah, I got it.” You then raised an eyebrow. What could be inside this gift?

You set it down on the nearest table, undoing the pretty bow of ribbon and wrapping paper that kept the mystery intact.

Inside, you were received with a record player.

“Oh, wow!”

You loved music, and you’d always wanted to start collecting vinyls as it looked cool, but everyone knew it was an expensive hobby.

Not only had Chuuya gotten that—a very nice one, too—he also got the records of your top ten favorite albums.

You looked through the covers, smiling with each new one you saw.

Chuuya explained a few things—how he was setting you up for good because he made sure you got a turntable player instead of a suitcase one, how you should replace the black slip mat with the white one he bought instead so your vinyls look prettier, how to not damage the records…you could hardly pay attention to him though because you were overjoyed at how thoughtful he was for that.

“You seem passionate. Do you collect them too?” you asked.

“No, I just wanted to research to find something good enough for you.”

You could feel your heart melt. He had really spent time picking this out after you’d only mentioned you finding record players vintage and cool twice, and you’d never even pointed out you’d want it as a gift.

“Thank you, Chuuya,” you said, leaning towards him, burying your face in his neck. “I love it…especially how you recall my favorite albums, too.”

“Of course doll,” he replied, running his hands through your hair. “Merry Christmas.”

You could’ve stayed like that, but your little moment with the port mafia executive was ruined when Chuuya glanced over at one of the snack tables to find all the food had just disappeared.

“Now what the fuck?”

You followed, looking at what he was looking at. Then, you realized the man standing by the table with a piece of cake—the last piece of cake.

RANPO caught your gaze and jumped, hyper from all the sugar he consumed. “There you are!” He ran towards you and shoved you on the ground, away from Chuuya.

“Hey man, what the hell is wrong with you?!” he shouted in annoyance.

Ranpo acknowledged the ginger-haired only then, looking up from where he had you suffocating in his arms. “Huh? Oh, sorry, didn’t see ya there.”

Chuuya grew even more infuriated at the provoke.

“You tryna pick a fight?”

“You still want to after knowing how last time turned out?”

Ranpo was referring to their last encounter, where Chuuya had embarrassingly lost against him from a single blow. But you didn’t need to know that.

So, Chuuya used all his willpower to keep silent under an outraged glare as he watched Ranpo drag you away to make sure he didn’t bring up any details about it.

“I got you a gift too!” Ranpo exclaimed as you walked back towards where the other agency members were hanging out. “Wanna guess what it is?”

“Hm…some sort of treat, that’s for sure,” you replied.

“Partly correct!” he replied. “That’s not all that I got you though.”

“Oh? How generous!”

“No!” his response was stern. “A princess like you deserves more…as the world’s greatest detective, noone would know that better than me.”

You smiled. “You’re right, Ranpo.”

With that, he handed you one of the cutest gift baskets you’ve seen. The actual basket was snowman-themed, and inside was everything you wanted that could fit in it—that pajama set you had in your online shopping cart, the new skincare products you’ve wanted to try, your favorite candle—you hadn’t even ever mentioned it to him before. And, of course, a lot of chocolate. Of course, Ranpo would also be the best gift-buyer, using his knowledge to his advantage.

The one thing that really stood out to you, though, was a jar of Hershey kisses, with a note on it that said:

KISSES WHEN I’M NOT AROUND.

It even had a chibi-fied face of the cute brunette on it.

“This is my favorite thing in this gift,” you said.

“Of course, because I know you always miss me when I’m not there to kiss,” Ranpo confidently stated. “Which is why I came up with a solution! They’ll never be as sweet as me, but it works.”

You laughed in delight. It was a very creative idea. “This is amazing; thank you, Ranpo!”

Never knowing how to respond to thankfulness directly, he answered it with something else. “Hey, there’s something on your nose.”

“Really?” You moved a hand to feel what was on there, but Ranpo grabbed your wrist to prevent you. Instead, he bopped your nose with his lips.

“There was frosting,” he said, probably from when he excitedly greeted you earlier.

“You enjoyed those desserts, huh?” you asked, glancing at the depleted table once again.

“Yup! It was just lying there, and noone said anything about how much you could take, so…!” He paused, trying to remember something.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

…

You chatted with agency and port mafia members alike a while after. Everyone was having a good time, even when Chuuya started bickering with Dazai and challenged him to a duel.

“Shithead!

“Mackerel!”

“How about you talk once you grow another two inches?”

As everyone was being entertained by Chuuya breaking an entire wall by throwing Dazai through it, your eyes were distracted by an elaborate bouquet of roses and baby breaths that you hadn’t noticed before.

Curious because it wasn’t by any other gifts, you left the crowd to inspect it.

You were surprised when you picked the arrangement up and saw that it was addressed to your name on a note. However, there was no name to say who it was from.

You looked around to see if anyone was nearby that could’ve placed the flowers there. But everyone else was watching the fight.

You flipped the note over, seeing a sketch of an elevator and a four-number code on the back.

An elevator?

You scanned the hall once again. The only elevator there was the one at the corner, restricted to the port mafia. The guests weren’t allowed to use it, and a security pad was guarding it.

You hesitated but then decided to approach the door. If someone gave you the code they wanted and were permitting you to use it, right?

Once again, no one protested because they were all distracted watching Chuuya on the ceiling, making sure Dazai couldn’t touch him. You pressed the four numbers into the pinpad and were congratulated with a correct ding! sound and the elevator sliding open.

You stepped inside and realized there was only one button—to go up. You pressed it, and the doors closed, moving you up.

Luxurious as always, the elevator had a glass window, the entire city of Yokohama coming into view as you went higher. A few seconds in, you realized that the elevator wasn’t going to stop until you reached the top.

You still weren’t sure who had mysteriously invited you to meet them. You hoped it wasn’t the boss—the doctor in charge creeped you out, if you were being honest. But you figured it couldn’t be him because he was also downstairs, chilling with the agency’s president.

Your heartbeat raced as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open, adrenaline surging in anticipation of the surprise, coupling with the chilly breeze outside. You had reached the rooftop.

“You’re so easy to tempt; those flowers drew you in faster than a blind mouse to a piece of cheese laid in a trap.”

You smiled as you heard the foreign accent of the person near the edge riddle you while admiring the entire city below. “Hi, Fedya.”

FYODOR turned around, violet eyes meeting yours.

“I should’ve known.” Of course, the enigma was him—conundra was the Russian’s signature.

“How in the world did you even get here?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. He always had his ways to infiltrate anywhere—through deception, through hacking, anything goes.

“I invited ourselves,” he smirked, and only then did you notice his two subordinates on the other side, one in fear as the other tried to trip him over the ledge. “Didn’t want to miss out on the gift-giving either.”

Fyodor took out a jewelry box. “I hardly get to see you. So I thought to get you something that you could wear everyday.

“And this one is special, to remind you of my presence even more.” He opened it, revealing a bracelet, and like Dazai, he also knew what color jewelry suited you best. It was nothing too showy—it was simple, but it was classy, timeless, just like him.

And you noticed what made it special. There was no clasp. It was made to be welded on the person’s wrist—a forever bracelet.

“Choose wisely,” Fyodor said as you looked in awe. “Which wrist, milaya?”

You quickly contemplated and held out one of your wrists towards him as he took out tweezers and a small laser. You watched as he delicately fastened the bracelet around your arm, making sure it sat on your wrist perfectly.

“Finished, fine with it?” he asked when he was done, and you lifted your hand toward the horizon.

“It’s perfect, thank you,” you responded candidly. Then, Fyodor lifted up his own sleeve under his coat, revealing a matching one. You were almost stunned, because you didn’t think he would be the type to wear anything other than a necklace.

“Merry Christmas, dorogaya,” he softly said, pressing you against his chest in a hug.

“WAIT, WAIT! Dove, there’s still me! Don’t seal away your heart just yet!”

“Huh?” You both turned towards NIKOLAI, who kindly but quickly moved Fyodor away from you.

The next thing you knew, there were foil snowman and reindeer balloons in your hand, white confetti popped over you, acting as snow, and the jester standing in front of you presenting a large gift.

“To be honest, I’m scared,” you admitted, knowing his chaotic, playful nature.

“Why?” he giggled. “Think I’m going to scare ya, baby? You can take my word, there’s no jumpscares in this one.”

“You better not be lying,” you said and removed the lid of the black box that reminded you of a magician’s top hat.

And he was being truthful because you were greeted with the exact opposite of remarkable. He had gifted you plain, white socks.

“Wow, Kolya. I never even knew you were capable of being mundane.”

He laughed once again as he just set the box in front of you, not saying anything more as you stared at him in confusion.

You took the socks out. Surely, there was a catch. He was acting too suspicious. And the entire gift was odd. You found nothing tampered with on the socks, though. And there was nothing else in the box. So why was it so big? And why did it look deeper than where the bottom stopped?

You nervously looked at Nikolai before sticking both hands in. You felt your way around the level until you realized the entire package floor felt like paper machete, something used in piñatas and things like that.

By instinct, you lifted a fist and punched through the box. You immediately punctured through the false bottom, uncovering your true gift.

He celebrated. “Smart girl!”

There was an assortment of plushies—many of them. You always asked Nikolai to help you get some whenever you found claw machines at amusement parks, so he knew you loved stuffed animals.

Then, there was a large, fluffy throw blanket, perfect for winter.

“I got that because I know you’re probably so cold when I’m not hugging you.” True. Nikolai encapsulated you like a blanket whenever he came over.

“The thought of having this didn’t even cross my mind,” you said. “Well, that goes for everything you do,” you chuckled.

“That was really creative; I love it, thank you!”

Nikolai popped more confetti, this time in pink hearts. “She loves it! Happy, happy Christmas!”

He swung you off the ground, spinning you with ease until your own head started spinning the opposite way.

“Gogol! I think she’s dizzy!”

The two-tone-haired casino owner had a concerned look on his face, and you couldn’t tell if it was because your eyes were unfocusing or because Nikolai was throwing you around so easily. Strong guy.

Nikolai stopped, realizing he had gotten too excited. “Sorry, dove! Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah,” you responded, unable to keep your balance as you tripped over yourself. You landed on SIGMA’s torso, and he helped guide you to stand up properly again.

“Thanks, Sigma,” you replied. “How are you?”

“Good, now that I get to see you again.” He lightly blushed, breaking eye contact as you smiled. “I’m glad to see you too.”

“I got you something as well,” he replied, showing his own present. “I’m not sure what the people downstairs got you, and mine isn’t as fancy as Dostoevsky’s nor as extraordinary as Gogol’s, but I hope you like it.”

You felt warm, even in the icy weather. “Awh, just hearing that you got something for me is more than enough,” you replied. “I am so grateful no matter what.”

You took the present and opened it, first greeted by a new set of poker cards. However, this one was different because when you sifted through them, you realized it was the Decay of Angel’s custom set. You had been wowed by Nikolai’s Joker and Fyodor’s Jack when you first saw them, always using the set when you played a game with others.

But there was also a new addition to this stack. You were on it, taking your place as the queen.

“What? Sigma, this is so cool!”

There was one more thing inside. Your favorite lipstick in your favorite shade.

Sigma loved the color and even more how it looked on you. He loved how his cheeks would stain whenever you kissed him there—the pigmented contrast to his paler skin. You hardly needed restocking as you loved the lipstick yourself, but it was always good to have another extra.

“Merry Christmas,” Sigma said as you opened the container and swatched it on your face. You looked as beautiful as ever.

“Merry Christmas, Sigma,” you responded, kissing his forehead. Then, you pulled a cookie wrapped in a napkin from inside your coat and placed it in his mouth.

“Saved it for you,” you giggled. “There’s a lot downstairs. Maybe they’ll let you guys in if I say I invited you. Well, at least you.”

i heard if u rb, u will receive x2 gifts this xmas from ur favs! reblogs are appreciated; they are your christmas gift to me! <3

tags : @kissesmellow21

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bangaveragewhitewine · 6 months

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all is calm, all is bright

dad!Eddie Munson x mom!Reader

Your baby’s first Christmas, a silent moment in the festive glow.

Word count: 1.2k

Content/Warnings: Pure fluff. Short and sweet. Eddie and Reader are parents. Childbirth mention. Reader referred to as 'Mama'. No physical description of Reader - insert yourself, my loves!

Author’s note: Something small and seasonal as I try to get back into some sort of creative flow again. Much grá to you all, my lovelies ❤️

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Cherry Lane glowed in the dusky winter light that fell over Hawkins. The entire town dazzled with a warm holiday glow from Christmas lights and the bright excitement of the littlest townsfolk all riled up for a visit from the Big Man later that night.

Your little home was no different - in fact, it might have been the cosiest home in the whole county. Coloured lights twinkled around the window frames, a handmade wreath hung on the door, and plastic candy canes diligently lined the snow-dusted path to guide Santa’s sleigh. It was a picture-perfect holiday card, inside and out.

Maeve Munson was too young to comprehend the very concept of Christmas, or Santa Claus for that matter. Too shiny and new to recognise the stocking with her name on it hanging above the small fireplace, or the presents wrapped in glossy printed paper beneath the tree.

Just a few weeks old, she arrived as an early gift for you and Eddie. The best one you had ever received. In true Munson fashion, her entrance to the world had been a little dramatic, but Eddie had held your hand and let you squeeze as hard as you needed until Maeve made her debut with a head of dark hair and a loud set of lungs.

From your cosy nesting place on the sofa, you watch her big brown eyes gazing at the twinkling coloured lights and baubles on the tree. With her cheek resting against her father’s shoulder, Maeve blinks, slow and sleepy, as she listens to his voice.

“I know you’re really into the boob right now, kid, but you’re going to love Christmas dinner once you’re big enough.” Eddie’s voice is a low murmur as he rocks slowly from side to side, chest to chest with his daughter.

His hand looks huge on her back, patting a slow and gentle rhythm that just exists for the two of them.

You can’t take your eyes off of them, despite how tired you feel. It would be so easy to just close them, a quick few minutes rest, but you would miss them too much.

You wish that your camera was closer so you could snap and savour this moment as one you can hold in your hands.

It is peaceful bliss bathed in colourful light; you soak it in, savour it.

There have been no tears for an hour, though you feel like you are right on the precipice of breaking that streak with how much love and joy you feel, swelling like pride in your chest.

The house is warm, the old window frames are fixed with double-glazed glass that keeps the chilly winter air out. It’s rough around the edges, but there is food in the fridge and the cupboards are full. There’s a tree and lights, a few presents beneath it.

It’s not much but it’s enough. All you need is right in front of you.

Eddie catches you watching them, smiles as he nuzzles against chestnut brown hair that will curl and coil like his own in time.

He pauses his murmured monologue, his waxing lyrical about everything he will pile on his plate tomorrow. Everyone’s bringing something to family Christmas at Harrington’s - you managed to make two desserts while Eddie introduced Maeve to A Charlie Brown Christmas, one eye on you the whole time to make sure you weren’t doing too much. Bringing the Littlest Party Member is the real treat for your friends and family, who will take turns holding her and squabble when one of them hogs the baby for too long.

“Hi Mama,” he says, his voice so soft as he crosses the room slowly on socked feet.

“Hi,” you whisper back, the thick feeling in your throat stalling you from speaking any louder. Part of it is fear, fear that you will undo Eddie’s magic touch at lulling Maeve to sleep. Her eyes are almost closed, almost.

Slowly, so slowly, he lowers down to sit by you. His gentle sway keeps up, like a lazy metronome, as he takes a load off. His sigh is carried from the tips of his toes, feeling like an almost burnt-out bulb.

“You’re really good at that,” you murmur, smiling through the tiredness.

“Hmm? Don’t count on it, she’s going to be wide awake again in a sec when she realises we’re not standing up.”

“Mm, maybe. This whole Dad thing suits you, Munson.”

When he smiles, you can still see the shadows beneath his eyes - you have a set to match, his and hers. There’s spit-up on his sleeve and his hair needs a wash. But he is beautiful.

Being parents wasn’t easy, you didn’t think it would be but some days you didn’t think it would be so hard either. You think that maybe if Eddie let his eyes slip closed, he would fall asleep too from his own gentle rocking rhythm.

“I can take a turn,” you say, bringing your hand to rub his back in wide smooth circles, mirroring him and Maeve.

You know his scowl is coming, and still, it makes you smile.

“Mm-mm, my turn,” he said, brows pulled in as his mouth pouts prettily. Much like your friends, it was easy to fall into a parental squabble of taking turns for the shitty nappies and the baby cuddles.

“Baby hogger,” you whisper without malice, pushing yourself closer to kiss his stubbly cheek.

“Yep, my baby now. You get to cuddle her all day when m’workin’.”

Eddie turns his head, lets his nose bump yours. His chin juts forward just a little to beg a kiss. You don’t even need to think about it, loving him is as easy as breathing.

There’s a pause, like bracing for impact, when Maeve makes a noise against his shoulder. The pause in his swaying did not go unnoticed.

“Can’t get anything past her, huh?” you murmur, leaving one last smiley kiss to his full lower lip.

“Nah, m’done for with you two.” His face cracks into a smile, he wouldn’t want it any other way.

You watch as he sits back a little, resting his head against the back of the second-hand sofa. You peel yourself up just enough to drag the coffee table close enough so he can put his feet up.

“Only ‘coz it’s Christmas,” you murmur, seeing his grin.

“You spoil me, baby.”

You spoil him more by dragging your blanket over his lap, sharing its fleecy warmth as Maeve slowly, so slowly, drifts off.

There are still gifts to wrap for Wayne and for your friends, laundry to be tossed in the dryer, but for now, you sit together as your baby sleeps, basking in the glow of Christmas.

Maeve’s breath is deep and steady; she makes these tiny noises that have brought tears to your eyes and Eddie’s on more than one occasion. Partly because she is finally asleep, but mostly because they are the sweetest thing you have ever heard.

Scooting closer, you press another kiss to Eddie’s cheek and close your eyes for just a moment, breathing in his warm spice, a hint of tobacco from his one cigarette - he wants to be around for Maeve, for you.

“Merry Christmas, Eddie.”

Your voice is just above a whisper, just loud enough for Eddie to hear. Your words warm him, settle deep in his bones and set his heart aglow.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

His lips press yours in a single kiss, sweeter than any hot cocoa, any candy cane.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs, likes and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

#dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #bangaveragefics

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yuri-is-online · 8 months

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Hello Yuri!! Congrats on 500 followers!! You deserve it, your writing is amazing and makes me so happy whenever you post something new! (・∀・)

If it’s alright, could I request Ace Trappola, Ruggie Bucchi and Cater Diamond with prompt four if that’s okay? About the reader meeting someone at the ball and ranting to the boys about them.

Thank you so much in advance, and congratulations again!! ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

4. You met someone really wonderful at the Masquerade Ball and have been ranting about how he was totally the love of your life to your abnormally quiet friend. Actually, wasn't he invited too? Maybe you should ask him how that went.

Hello Rhea! It's always a pleasure to see you in my notifications, though you did give me a bit of whiplash with how fast this request came in (;ﾞ°´ω°´) It makes me very happy to hear I have managed to make you happy, I hope you like this post too. Also thank you very much for the kind words, they made me feel much better.

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, I know the prompt says "quiet" but these three are sort of the chatty type so it's more like dodging the question (sorry), the other event requests can be found on my masterlist here. There's a movie reference hidden here (kind of) that if someone gets I'll probably scream idk.

Ace

There is a god in some sort of heaven and he hates Ace Trappola. Well maybe not a god, maybe it's just Riddle, and he certainly doesn't hate him, Ace is just being dramatic. But there has to be some sort of rule Riddle is breaking here, seriously what beacon of morals and etiquette sits pretending to sip tea while obviously eve's dropping on what should be a terribly private conversation. It's a nightmare made substantially worse by just how long he has been wanting to have this talk.

"Honestly I wasn't expecting to have so much fun, I thought Crowley was just going to put on a cheap tacky formal, not an actual ball with proper costumes." You feel light headed with joy for a change, technically half of the things you've experienced in this world you never would have in yours but a real, fancy Masquerade somehow felt more surreal than the overblots or flying brooms. Maybe it was because you had seen pictures of real ball costumes and masks that made it feel more tangible, like this was something you really were meant to be a part of.

"The costuming was indeed very impressive." Riddle swirls his cup just gently enough to avoid spilling his precious tea whilst making sure to pour Ace's all over the Heartslabyul lounge. "I was surprised at how impossible it was to tell who was who."

"I know! That's the whole problem." You practically jump up from the couch, before remembering yourself and settling down again. Ace notices you still move subconsciously closer to him, even if your silly head doesn't know just who he is. Or would it be was?

"Is it really?" Ace really wishes you weren't so used to ignoring his whining. "The entire point of a Masquerade is to be anonymous, isn't that why you and Deuce thought it was 'romantic.'" He had wanted to have this talk in Ramshackle where it was guaranteed to be private- scratch that he wanted to have it last night while he was trying to imagine what your eyes looked like under your mask. What they would look like if he moved his aside and just said what he was trying to for once instead of flirting more with the subtext than you.

"Well yeah I guess." You mumble. Your chest has been tied up in funny knots and Ace's unenthusiastic tone isn't helping with the pain. "But it's driving me insane to think I could have met my soul mate and all I know about him is that he makes a really attractive clown." Riddle chokes, tea cup clanking onto it's saucer as he politely tries to pass off his laugh as a cough. "Well not just that..." you mumble, closing your eyes to conjure up the memory of the jester who had produced a rose from behind your ear and insisted on leaving it there for luck.

"What sort of luck?" He held onto the rose just a second too long for your poor heart to bear, you swear he could feel it if he pressed his fingers that much closer to your pulse point.

"Well mine of course, how else am I supposed to find you when this is over." It's odd not to see the man's lips, your heart tells you it suspects he's smiling but it won't confirm it.

"That's not luck!" You laugh. "That's cheating!" He shrugs, as if to say he knows, that's the whole point. As if to say it's worth it to break the rules where you're concerned. It's daring, the way he holds you as you dance, the way your heart is screaming for you to just-

"I should have kissed him." You groan, remembering how Grim had charged in between you and your date screaming about how he'd never approve or something dumb like that. Just who did he think he was anyway?

"Well then why don't you!" Ace cringes as he says it, neck beet red as you go to sass him back before the oddly serious nature of his tone and the implication of his syntax force you to stop. Riddle's exit barely registers as you stare each other down, Ace from the corner of his eye and you with the full force you can gather.

"Would you have let me?" You whisper. A familiar touch lights just behind your ear, pressing in this time to trace the speed of your heartbeat.

"Only one way to find out, prefect." You expect him to run. Make some sort of joke about how he was pranking you, or say kissing before marriage being against the rules. But he doesn't. He waits, perhaps in the way he has been since the first night he showed up at Ramshackle, collared and crabby, just waiting for you to close the gap.

And embrace you as you fall.

Ruggie

Ramshackle was closer to the main castle than Savanaclaw. That was the excuse Ruggie had used to get you to agree to let him crash there, in his mind anyway. Really, all he had needed to do was ask, but you know that's not exactly how he works. Your relationship has always been a series of scratches, offers of give and take that tend to be minor but offer just enough of a technicality for true feelings to remain hidden just out of sight. That doesn't change how surreal it is to see him here so late, or the sharp contrast between all the stiff collars and plaster faces you both had been drowning in just a moment ago and the worn gym clothes you both wear for pajamas.

"Man I'm beat." Ruggie says, sinking into the couch. You aren't in much better shape, if he wasn't taking up a part of it you would be sprawled face down across the length the couch. Instead, you satisfy yourself with curling up into the far corner. You have a dreamy smile on your face, content like how he usually looks when he eats a large meal, or when he thinks you aren't looking.

"I think I found your soul mate hanging around the buffet tables tonight." You lazily tease, tracing nonsensical shapes on the floor to amuse the nervous energy from your earlier encounter.

"Oh yeah?" Ruggie sounds vaguely intrigued, but he doesn't move much. If anything he settles his neck more firmly into the sofa back, eyes intentionally trained on the ceiling. "What makes you say that?"

"He was stealing all the apple fritters." You say, dreamy smile widening when Ruggie snorts. "Too bad I intend on stealing him from you."

"Do you now." He murmurs, head tilting back down into his palm. He rests his elbow on his knee, but he doesn't look at you, not immediately. Your well into your little rant before he does.

"Well at first I was just going to steal the food-" that was the whole reason he had wanted to stay here, the two of you had hatched a plan weeks ago to smuggle in some containers and smuggle out as much food from the banquet hall as possible and it just made more sense to take it to Ramshackle "but he offered to give it to me so long as I danced with him." There is a container of said fritters in between you both, sticky with caramelized sugar and a good reminder of just how expensive the Masquerade Ball must have been to throw. It's odd to have food last so long in Ramshackle, odder still with Ruggie so close.

"Nice try." You said. "But you won't trick me like that. My friend trained me well and I need to bring those back to him."

"Are you sure about that?" The man's voice is muffled by his mask, white plaster forming three faces obscuring any meaningful detail of his real looks. He's radiant, something about the way he's managing to thread the needle through the crowd despite his exaggerated mask is holding all your attention despite Ruggie's warnings. You're supposed to be competing to see who would bring the most food home, but instead you're dancing in the arms of someone else, laughing as he kisses your hand when he dips you in tune with the song. "Your friend is missing out, I have the best tasting thing in the ballroom right here."

"I'm sorry I was so distracted I only managed to snag a couple things. Did you get anything good?" You roll out of the corner closer to the center, just out of his reach but oh so obtainable.

"Nope~" he says, letting the word pop and looking away with more shame than you have seen on his face... ever now that you think about it. "I uhh. I may have... also.. gotten distracted." Both of you look at the single container of apple fritters, suddenly very much aware that neither of you actually brought anything else back to your dorm.

"Laugh with me." You try to protest but Ruggie has both your fingers up to your lips, his trademark smirk looks good on you, he wishes he could take a picture. "Embarrassed prefect? You shouldn't be so worried, I told you how I felt didn't I?"

"But you don't know how I taste!" You manage to wail and he finally cracks, shaking with laughter and letting you curl your blanket around you in a ball of embarrement. You stay like that for a good long while, trying to beat down the smile that twitches at the corner of your mouth until Ruggie reaches over to unwrap you casing and pull your head into his lap.

"Well then, maybe you should let me test you." He's wrong you think as your lips meet, Ruggie has got to taste much sweeter.

Cater

"Well someone looks like they had fun last night~" Cater says and you giggle in response. He allows himself to pause before he continues, Cater really hates the sound of his own voice. How anyone can stand him is beyond him, and he knows the conversation he's about to have has a pretty good chance- no.

It's going to destroy the carefully built illusion he's woven around your "friendship" even if you react positively. Losing you would be painful, but keeping you in the dark would be even worse. He has to play this smart, play you correctly so he can try and keep your eyes with him even if they only look at the superficial face he wears.

Yes, Cater has to play you carefully, but he is off to a bad start. You know before he sits down that something is wrong, it's written all over his face sewn into his unwashed hair and dark circles under his eyes.

"I want to say 'you too' but honestly you look exhausted Cater, you sure you want to be awake right now?" You don't want to press him in case that makes him run, but you also know Cater a bit better than he wants to acknowledge. You don't really think the bit of yourself you have to share will help soothe him, but he goes along with his script anyway.

"Seriously, you worry too much!" He can't say about me because he wants your worries, and he knows that denial would crack his mask. "Besides I've just been dying to hear about the dance, you seemed really excited to go!" There's a sparkle in your eyes, a flush to your cheeks that he desperately wishes he had put there.

"It went well." That’s all you can bring yourself to say as your hands go to fiddle absent mindedly with the sleeves of your blazer.

"That's good?" He tries to poke at the topic but you don't go further. "Or was is it not good and you just don't want to think about it?"

"No! No it's just. I met someone. Or I think I did anyway." Cater blinks. Once. Twice. Three times just for luck because he knows, or at least he thinks he knows, that he was the only one with you all night. What you're saying just can't be right, there's no way you didn't know it was him all night. "He was just so easy to talk to! I completely lost track of time and didn't meet up with anyone else..." Your little embarrassed smile confirms it, you didn't know. He laughs.

"Sorry," he doesn't mean that "you're just too cute Yuu." He pulls his phone from his pocket as you desperately stutter.

"Look I'm really sorry I know I said I'd look for you, Riddle, and Trey but I was just... I don't know, moonstruck?" He laughs more, practically chokes as he quickly types an apology to Trey and savors your embarrassment just a moment longer.

"Don't you mean starstruck?" He teases and you suddenly find a bit of your fight back and fiercely shake your head.

"No way! That's for famous people. Moonstruck is for when you're overcome with ridiculous love for someone even if you don't know them." You pout and Cater looks at his phone, not to do anything really just to center himself and his thoughts. He has a choice to make, and he doesn't know where either path will go.

"Are you alright?" Cater should have known you would find him, there should be something scary with how unconsciously in tune with him you are. He doesn't say anything, but that doesn't seem to discourage you. You settle yourself next to him, sitting quietly keeping him company until he's ready to speak.

"It's all just a bit too much." He gestures vaguely at the room, uncertain why he's decided to speak about this now and not run from it. "Everyone's here wearing masks and hiding themselves like it's a fun thing to do."

"It can be." You say calmly. "But always dressing like this would be a lot." You look over the crowd with the stranger, the conversation lulls, and you try to examine the man's costume for a hint of what might be best to say. "You know," your voice is uncertain, but the words that come to you aren't ones you don't believe in, "everyone wears a mask sometimes, especially when they're afraid or lonely." The man says nothing, but something about the way he sits suggests you still have his attention. "You're not obligated to remove those masks for anyone, it has to be done when you are ready to accept the consequences of how other people will see you."

Cater isn't ready. He somehow doubts he ever will be. He wishes there was a way to confess this with a guarantee that the consequences won't burn him.

"You weren't the only one moonstruck." You look hopeful almost, exactly like you did when you'd pulled him from his corner to dance. Exactly the same as when you had when he had teasingly pulled your mask aside to kiss you, the same cute look he would never be sorry to see on your face. "Say are you busy prefect? I think there's something I need to tell you."

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ace trappola x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #cater diamond x reader #500 followers celebration #side note #but i think riddle would be very pro aceyuu #if for no other reason than it gives him something to hold over ace's head #“follow the rules or I'm taking away your prefect time :/”

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chubphoe-linkclick · 17 days

Text

Hey so S2E9 'Three Stroires' was fucking bonkers

LETS TALK ABOUT IT

The episode is DENSE AS ALL HELL with things to talk about, the three main things being

The titles

The art style and style of storytelling

The dialogue (or lack thereof)

Lets speedrun some analysis notes of our three favourite members of the worst found family ever!!

Storytelling Styles

All three stories are emotionally driven and told in dramatic styles without realism, though all for differing reasons.

QJ mimics the over-the-top Shakespearean reminiscent of his wife, believing himself to be the main character of a tragedy. Though this style of story telling is obviously campy and corny, it's also presented in a way where it's not immediately clear to the viewers that this isn't actually real -- it's a fabrication of the canon within the canon as a reflection of QJ's delusions.

LTC mimics QJ, however, his disposition leads to him seeing everything as a Greek Comedy as opposed to perma-victim QJ's Greek Tragedy. It also reflects LTC ultimately leaning into and revelling in killing other people as part of his hunter ethos and evolution. LTC's style does not need to be realistic because LTC isn't looking for meaning in his story, but for an experience that's enjoyable and satisfying.

QJ and LTC's style complement each other with both being able to come together to tell a more cohesive narrative overall, although each does so by focusing on themselves more than anyone else.

LTX is a silent cartoon telling of her life story, quite literally the story that's gone untold, bar the words of the gossiping crows (people with frivolous and passing interest in her life writing their own stories about the events she goes through). Her story telling style is a reflection of her mindset and being trapped cognitively as a child for all time, and is further indication that her personhood wasn't allowed to independently grow since becoming an orphan.

LTX's story is outside of QJ and LTC's narrative because she cannot speak, and thus her story does not matter. No dramatisation of reality to paint a certain picture is needed, nor is her story seen or understood in either of theirs. Her story is insular and disconnected from theirs because her personhood is disconnected from theirs.

LTX's story is told through the lens of LTC and LX's worldview: that the world is made up of beasts and hunters. There is only ever one human character (likely LX himself rather than QJ, based on how visually loyal everyone else's designs are) while LTX watches LTC straddle the line between animal (his nature) and human (his will).

Story Titles

QJ's part being called the "Inevitable Tragedy" is a reference to how he is the creator of his own misfortune as it was never based in reality but his own unchecked paranoia.

LTC's part is called the Fortuitous Comedy is because it was fortuitous for QJ to find out about the twins' powers before anyone else via Tianchen's confession and subsequent laughter. It could also be due to LTC reaching his perceived hunter-status by the fortuitous case of Deng being Liu Min's first requested kill (for the same reason LTC hates Deng, no less).

LTX's title being the "Sibling's Fairy Tale" is rather self explanatory, much like the character herself if you took the damn time to talk to her. It's childish, stuck in the past (trauma), focused on her brother and the other light of her life: their late-mother. Another piece of insight that I remembered hearing is that fairy tales don't always have happy endings, but they always have a moral to learn from. In this sense, Xixi's story is thematically the most important because no character has put that moral into practice (confronting the worst aspects of those you love, refusing to look away from the secrets they hide while you stay in a peaceful dream with their softness).

Additional Notes

QJ caring for the twins in Part II is a reflection of LTC being gaslit about reality (reinforced by QJ's fatherly love being absent in LTX's story), as well as a reflection of his sense of self and human autonomy only beginning and flourishing due to the circumstances QJ provided

LTX's story suggests that most of the time she spends with LTC involves her napping in some form, or that most of her time in general was slept away as if she was trapped in some strange dream.

The only betrayal even hinted at is LTC's betrayal of LTX's morality, a twist that literally shatters LTX's childlike world and forces her hurdling into reality. This is the only betrayal because the twins are the only two who have trust in one another among the three.

Someone else made a point about how even when the foxboy picks up the bow and arrow, he remains a fox. In LTX's eyes, her brother can act as a hunter but he's still a beast and that's not a bad thing.

The fact that most people are 'beasts' and there's only one human in all of LTX's worldview really is some solid symbolism and messaging, especially considering LTX is socially classified as an undesirable a la her disabilities. It's peak reclamation and pride in Oneself.

#link click #link click season 2 #link click spoilers #link click analysis #shiguang dailiren #qian jin #li tianchen #li tianxi #li tian twins #LAN went hard with this one #they cooked

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painted-bees · 6 months

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>>part i and ii<<

iii)

Cold, dark, and vacuous as space; the environment was unaccommodating to a flesh like this. Blissfully, it could not feel what there was to be felt. It did not experience the depths to which it sank. It could no longer survive the womb from whence it came.

It could no longer survive.

But it was so tenderly embraced. Admired. Loved.

This flesh, warm and beating, required exposure to the rose and violet hues of morning, and to convalesce beneath the heat of charitable blood. Only then could it feel again. Only then could it survive.

When it felt again, it felt discomfort. Ache roused it; sharp and dull, tender and tingling, stiff and burning. It sweated and shivered beneath that which compressed it; a warm, knobby mass. Flesh, but unlike itself; covered in fields of tawny bristles. Fur.

A rush of hot, moist air preceded an explosion of movement that jostled it painfully. The weight was lifted, the fur, and so too was its warmth. All was carried away on percussive beating; cloven hooves against packed earth. All that remained was aching flesh, slowly cooling atop a bed of needling bister reeds. It could not stay here long. And so, gingerly, it rose and walked.

Its shadow, tarry and black over reeds, stone, and into the sea–

Did not immediately follow.

iv)

Raf was unable to sleep while anxiety gnawed holes through him.

Hearing his own voice as he described Margie over the phone, and explained the details surrounding the last time he had seen her, made the whole thing feel like an overreaction on his part. It didn’t make sense that she was just–gone, much less that she had been swallowed by some kind of freak tsunami. What’s more, the woman on the other end of the line assured him that no other reports had been made matching his description of the tidal flooding. She suggested that he search around the island, in case Magritte had simply gotten lost and wandered down the wrong road. And then she gave him a reference number.

It had left him feeling…unassured. Though she had done her best to sound patient and courteous with him, the nature of her suggestions and the unnecessary detail of “there’ve been no other reports of flooding” bode poorly for him. He wanted to have someone looking for Margie at sea, but now he was unsure that anyone would be dispatched at all. If the lady on the other end of the line hadn’t taken him seriously, would she have even bothered to forward the report through to the appropriate channels?

No, probably not.

Why did she have to say anything disparaging about his concerns regarding the water? He knew what he saw. He walked through it. Anger twisted alongside anxiety in his gut.

By the time he had gotten into his old, little sedan and drove back down to the beach, the ocean had receded beneath the bluffs. Even so, the stony shoreline remained wholly submerged beneath the tide. It might have been easy to convince himself that he had imagined what he saw before. However, though the road was above water now, the tide could never have been able to reach the bluffs under normal conditions.

He pulled to the side of the road, held his phone out the window of his car, and took a photo. Looking at the picture on his screen, the tide was evident even despite the low-lighting gamma noise that obscured the shot. The entire visible length of the stony shoreline was under water. It wasn’t normal, and he wasn’t crazy.

It made the landscape look so dramatically different, in honesty, that it wasn’t unreasonable to think Magritte might have easily gotten turned around by it. It was entirely likely that, with certain landmarks missing, she’d have headed in the wrong direction and gotten lost. And, knowing how averse she was to bothering strangers, she likely wouldn’t have been able to gather the courage to knock on anyone’s door so late at night. As Raf drove his car at a crawling pace over the vacant, silent roads, he allowed himself the comfort of believing he could find her sooner rather than later.

His certainty waned as one hour bled into another, and then into another. It was in Squirrel Cove, on the other side of the island, where Raf had to contend with the fact that Magritte might actually, really, be missing. And, at 4:30 in the morning, he finally felt fully justified in making the missing person report.

To be certain, though, he took advantage of Squirrel Cove’s cellular signal and gave the cottage a call. He’d been out looking for over three hours. Perhaps she had found her way back home while he was out.

No. She didn’t pick up the phone.

On the doleful drive back, Raf continued searching for her, taking every hopeful detour he came across. And then, he turned around and scoured the same streets again.

He couldn’t go back to the cottage. Not without her. If he returned to the empty house and sat down, the reality–the true reality–of the situation would paralyse him. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to consider if it were a malevolent stranger or some natural catastrophe that had taken Magritte from him. He didn’t want to contend with the overwhelming suspicion that the strange tide was no coincidence; that she had been swept to sea. She had walked to the beach and, when he went to find her, both she and the beach were gone.

She would have drowned hours ago and, if that were true, it was unlikely that Raf would ever receive the closure of knowing for sure. He tried not to think of how cold the water was, and he tried not to deliberate whether or not she’d have fallen asleep before the exhaustion made her sink. He tried not to imagine how frightening it must have been, nor how heavily the dread would have weighed. He tried not to.

He kept driving.

The events of the past year might have destroyed a younger version of himself. His uncle had been the only solid foundation upon which he could stand to rely on. Uncle Bill’s passing had torn the very ground out from beneath Raf’s feet and, in the wake of it all, he clung to Magritte every single night as though she were a liferaft. Her buoyant optimism and unsinkable love granted him the space to wallow in grief-stricken overwhelm without falling into the familiar pits of self-loathing, despair, and deafening loneliness.

It hadn’t been a good time. Not for either of them. But it had been survivable. He knew that it would all eventually come to pass, and he looked forward to it. He looked forward to having the energy to enjoy things again, and he looked forward to waking up each morning without dread. He looked forward to getting back on his feet, so that he could make it all up to her. He looked forward to treating her again, and to being a source of joy in her life. She hadn’t merely stuck with him; she helped him carry his burdens. All the while, she had given no indication that she wished for an escape. From their situation, yes–but not from him.

And she had done so well to convince him that they’d get through it together; that she’d be there as the one constant he could always fall back on. He believed her.

Despite everything, he believed her.

Perhaps it would still be true if he hadn’t neglected her company in favour of underwhelming weed and the same twelve songs he had been listening to for the past three months.

Oh. Fuck. He hated that.

She hadn’t lied, he just fucking abandoned her.

Raf’s eyes had stopped scanning the sides of the road, staring numbly ahead. The stars were fading from the sky as it paled into the indigos of early sunrise. His thoughts turned quiet as the unremarkable hum of the car’s engine filled his brain. For the first time that night, rather suddenly, he felt nothing.

And so, it was a bit jarring when his arms automatically veered his sedan to the side of the road and his foot slammed hard on the brakes. As he got out of the car, he became aware of the intense, strangling heartbeat in his throat. Raf had reacted before his consciousness registered what his eyes had seen. His legs were already carrying him in long, hasty strides by the time he realised he had driven past–and parked in front of–Magritte.

“Jesus Christ. Fuck me.” As soon as she was within reach, Raf pulled her into him and closed his arms around her. His vision splotched as an overwhelming wave of relief displaced the blood in his head. The weak laugh that escaped him wobbled with faint delirium. “C…Christ.”

Burying his face into her wild, tangled hair, the smell of sea rot and wet animal musk assaulted his senses. He didn’t care--he couldn't care. He smoothed her coarse, salt-crisp curls beneath his palm with heavy strokes, too frenetic to be soothing. It was the sharp pain of burs needling into his fingers that brought him tenuously back to his senses.

Reluctantly, he pulled back to inspect her. Wisps of her frizzy auburn hair clung wetly to her face. Her cheeks were flushed red and hot. As he held her gently by the shoulders, he became aware of how her body trembled in his grasp. Her shirt was as damp and stained as the rest of her, in mud and grass.

And blood.

There was blood.

Most concerning of all, her stare remained distant and unfocused even as he looked her over.

Raf gently cupped the back of her head with a caress much more gentle and deliberate. His hand pulled away unstained, and what he thought might have been a clot tangled in her hair turned out only to be a decaying piece of leaf that broke apart between his fingers.

"Margie, what the hell happened to you?" The hand that wasn't hooked gingerly around the back of her head closed around one of her wrists and gently coaxed her arm away from her chest. She had been holding both arms tightly to her body, hands curled inward. As Raf turned her palm over to inspect it, he understood why. What met his eye resembled sliced beef.

He immediately turned her hand back towards her. "Okay."

The same kind of gashes, though less severe, carved her elbows, knees and shins.

"Okay, okay. Margie." He smoothed her hair back, out of her face. "Can you look at me, please?"

There was a moment of delay, but to his relief, her gaze did sluggishly turn up towards him.

She drew in a small breath. "Sorry I'm late… Can we still play music together?"

Raf's eyes shut automatically against what felt like a punch to his gut, and he clasped a hand over them reflexively, inhaling sharply. "Y-yeah." A weakly sighed laugh dissolved into a strangled sob. "We can do what ever the fuck you want." Holding himself together with an abrupt, wet sniff through his nose, he reached an arm around Magritte's shoulders, intending to walk her to the car. And then he realized she had no fucking shoes.

He paused, unsure that his knees could support his own weight, much less hers. His legs had threatened to give out from under him the moment he stepped out of the car. With a steadying breath, he took his chances. Magritte continued to hold her hands protectively to her chest as Raf dropped his other arm down behind her knees and lifted her off the ground.

"We gotta…take care of you first, alright?" With arms full of Magritte, he fumbled to open the door to the passenger seat before placing her down as carefully as he could manage. "Can–can you tell me if you're okay?"

Slowly, she turned her head to look up at him before providing a small, uneven nod. "My hands hurt. And my throat…cold." She was trembling visibly, now. Much more than she had been before.

"Alright." The quiet vapidity of her voice and the vagueness of her response was unencouraging. This wasn't the vibrant, vivacious Magritte that had invited him to walk with her last night. This was a shadow.

Raf gently closed the car door before walking around to the driver's side and dropping himself into the seat. He cranked the heat up as high as it would go.

They were on Potlatch already. Without realising it, Raf had been driving himself back to the cottage before he came upon Magritte on the side of the road. Home was scarcely a minute away. Still, it was a minute of concerning silence.

6:48am.

The clock on his dash told him that if he wanted to catch the next ferry to Quadra, there wasn't much time to spare. He parked the car in front of the cottage, but left it running.

"Margie, I'm taking you to the hospital. I just need to grab some things first, alright?"

She nodded. This time without too much of a delay.

"Good, good, good." Raf placed a kiss on her forehead and almost recoiled from the heat and sweat that met his lips.

Despite it, she still curled into herself and shivered.

Was it shock? A fever? Both? Would her skin be so hot to the touch if it were hypothermia?

He smoothed back her hair in one more soothing gesture before leaving the car and darting into the cottage.

It had been a blur.

Faintly, Magritte recalled being told something by someone–and nodding. She remembered a warm, dry sweater being fitted over her head, and having her arms carefully–carefully–pulled through the sleeves. When her fingers strained to push past the enclosing fabric, her yelp of pain had been answered by a purr of soothing consolations. That same voice encouraged her to drink water from a bottle held to her lips; as much water as possible. She recalled the feeling of being gently tucked under a blanket–and the feeling of being lovingly kissed, at random intervals, on her forehead, her cheeks, and her nose.

She hadn’t realised that this had all taken place in the passenger seat of Raf’s car.

In fact, Margie only became aware of the vehicle some time after it had loaded onto the small ferry, off the docks of Mason’s Landing. Its engine was off and the air inside the car had slowly cooled while the heater was unable to run. Bundled warmly in her blanket and slightly reclined, Margie was finally cognizant enough to recognize the dashboard of Raf’s sedan–as well as the cradling darkness of the ferry’s car deck. And, as she turned her head towards the driver’s seat, she found Raf beside her; fully reclined, his eyes closed, and his lips slightly parted in light slumber. His hand rested limply, palm down, across her knee.

How did she get here?

Where were they going?

As the hardworking boat engine filled her ears with its loud, steady hum, Magritte felt a distinct déjà vu in how the ferry rocked and swayed over the ocean waves.

Closing her eyes, she recalled the last time she took the ferry. It was just a week ago, on the way to Cortes Island. But it wasn’t spent in darkness like this. She and Raf had both abandoned the car to watch the ocean from the upper deck. The breeze had been salty and chilly, but not freezing.

She remembered the sound of rushing wind. The sound of a giant’s gasp breaking the surface of the water. She remembered ghostly dorsal fins dancing atop of inky waves.

Magritte’s eyes snapped open. “I saw the orcas! Raf-!”

Raf’s eyelids rose with an ease that suggested he hadn’t been fully asleep. Without lifting his head, he let out a groggy, “Huh?”

“Last night! I was surrounded by them!” Magritte beamed at the memory of it, but as she said it outloud, it sounded a little silly. “...I think?”

“Orcas?” Blinking tiredly, Raf sat up and searched her eyes with a worried stare. “Do you…remember what happened?”

Her smile faltered, and then faded entirely as her brain pulled up a string of fragmented images and feelings. The muscles in her arms felt stiff and tired for how they were tucked so tensely against her chest. But more than that, her hands had plagued her with a terrible, consistent burning the entire time.

She remembered grasping at the rocks.

Slowly, nervously, Magritte lifted her arms out from under the blanket to assess her aching palms. The moment her vision filled with more red than she had anticipated, she turned her hands quickly away. Oh, it looked worse–way worse–than it felt. And it felt bad.

Automatically, she turned her wide eyes to Raf. “I fucked up my hands.” Her voice was a panicked whisper.

Raf sat up and readjusted the backrest of his seat before carefully enveloping his hands overtop of hers. Gently, he pressed down, lowering them to her lap. “We’re going to the hospital. Your hands are going to be fine–”

“It was oysters,” she cut him off, “I grabbed a bunch of oysters.” Her attempt to pull up her hands for reinspection was firmly halted by Raf’s steadying grasp.

“The doctor will look at them, it’ll be fine.” He leaned in closer and assessed her face with an expression of tender concern. “What about the rest of you? How are you feeling?”

She swallowed back a painful lump in her throat. It went down like blistering lava. “Confused. I feel like I got hit by a bus and the things I remember from last night suck in a weird nightmare kinda way. And it hurts to swallow.” That’s not what concerned her, though. “Raf, how fucked are my hands? Can I still play piano?”

“Margie.” Raf, who had been watching her from under a tightly knitted brow, diffused his tension with a deep, bodily, exhausted sigh. “Sorry, Margie, I’m not–” He cut himself off by massaging his eyes with his thumb and fingertips. And then he dropped his face into both of his palms, pressing them upward towards his hairline so that his fingers raked through his bangs. “I thought you were fucking dead, man. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I’m sorry, I’m not worried about piano right now. I just–I want to know you’re alright.”

He didn’t pull his head out of his hands, but from behind his palms, Magritte heard him inhale a wet sniff through his nose; a sob.

“Oh–what?” Magritte’s fear was bowled over by a sudden wave of guilt. “Wait, what!?”

“You were gone,” Raf rubbed his eyes once more before removing his hands from his face and allowing his heavy, lethargic stare to fall onto her, “all night.” He swallowed. “I haven’t slept. I spent hours driving across the island looking for you. The tide was up past the road, and so I thought that maybe a tsunami took you out. I don’t fucking know. You’ve been like–catatonic for the past hour and a half. I don’t care about your hands, Margie, I just want you to tell me you’re not gonna pass out and die on me before we get to the hospital. That’s all.”

Margie wilted as he spoke. She had been reckless and, as always, he suffered unfairly for it. He was pissed off at her, and rightly so. She couldn't even hug him the way she wanted to. Her aching body loathed to move. “Y-yeah! I’m alright, I promise I’m alright! Sorry. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Her voice meekly tapered off.

“I’m not–” Raf groaned. “I’m not mad at you.” He exhaled another deep sigh that ended in a humourless huff of laughter. “It’s just been a stressful night and I just kinda want it to be over. Your hands…are gonna be taken care of, I promise. And whatever happens, we’ll still make music together, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“Are you alright?”

Magritte nodded, cradling her hands against her chest once again.

“Actually?”

She nodded again. “Just sick…and scared.”

Magritte had broken eye contact to stare dolefully at her feet beneath the dashboard. She’d have curled up into that tiny dark space, if she could. She felt Raf’s gaze hang on her for a moment longer before he reached over to cup her face and press a weighty, lingering kiss against her left temple.

“I love you,” his voice was soft in her ear, “so fuckin’ much.”

Buoyed by the gesture, Magritte sat up to look at him again, warm sincerity lighting her guilty features. “I love you too! I really didn’t mean to vanish on you like that.”

“Of course you didn’t.” There was no sarcasm tainting his affirmation. “But…what actually happened?”

Margie sunk back under the blanket as she tried to string memories together in her head. “I don’t…really know. I remember being in the water, it was cold…orcas… Oh-!” Her thoughtful frown deepened. “I couldn’t see anything, no islands, no lights, not from boats or houses. Nothing. Just water and stars. I don’t know how I got back to shore.”

“Did you wake up on the beach?”

“I can’t remember.” She glanced up at him apologetically. “I don’t even remember getting into the car.” It felt like recalling a vivid dream. No memory of falling asleep, no memory of waking up…just a disorganised cluster of…experiences. They all bled into one another, but at the same time, there were so many missing pieces.

Raf nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“The tide was low when I got to the beach. Like–really low. I couldn’t see the waves. So I went looking at starfishies and stuff”

She watched him shut his eyes as she said this, and he sucked in a tortured breath. “Margie,” he let his breath go, “in the future, if the ocean just…disappears like that–go…get off the beach, alright? That’s–that’s tsunami shit.”

She turned her eyes forward once again, with a sheepish little, “Oh.” She’d never heard anything of that sort before. “You’d think that’d be common knowledge.”

Raf paused to cast her a condolatory look before professing, “I’m just so…so glad you’re back.”

Magritte opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by the ferry’s PA system announcing their arrival into Quadra Island’s Heriot Bay.

Leaning back in his seat, Raf dropped his hands onto the steering wheel. “A bit behind schedule, but…I’ll bet we can still make the 9:30 ferry to Campbell River before it leaves.”

Warmth softened his features, but as he stared dully out the windshield of his car Magritte could see the dark circles of fatigue bruising his lower eyelids–and the irritated, dry redness that coloured the corners of his eyes. His whole body slumped as his posture slowly lost the battle against gravity.

Oh, my poor man needs some proper sleep…

And so did she.

As long as she didn’t have to move, she was mostly fine. But her joints ached and the muscles in her legs felt sickly. Magritte dreaded the idea of prying herself out of the car to drag through the fluorescently lit hallways and stairwells of a hospital. Blisters on her feet served as additional discouragement. The blanket Raf had provided her did its job in keeping her cosy and warm–but her hot, sensitive skin was keen to make her shudder and shiver at any manner of change in the air. It was a fever that begged for bedrest.

“We could just…nap, instead.”

That won a small, lopsided smile out of him as he let out a bemused snort. Wistfully, he replied, “No.” Maintaining his little smirk, Raf rolled an affectionate gaze towards her. “When we get back home, though, I’m gonna slam dunk you into bed. And then we’ll sleep for a whole god damn year.”

>>part vi<<

#more to come...#we have yet to meet Cortes properly..!#Hi-Note #magritte #rafael #cortes

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bookofmirth · 8 months

Note

I’ve seen so many theories from e/riels claiming that Elain and Azriel are true mates and even carranam (because he discovered she’s a seer & freed her from the “murky” realm) and she’s secretly a spy for him. I genuinely am wondering though how the whole Elain is a spy thing came about? This isn’t hate to Elain, I’m truly wondering. Also, when Azriel says, “a thing of secret, lovely beauty” was he referring to the necklace or the image of Gwyn’s joy? E/riels say that line is meant for Elain only, because he specifically picked out that necklace for her and it represents her because of roses. This probably sounds dramatic, but the ship wars in the fandom/how aggressive people get (all ships not just one) kind of scares me.

So the first thing re: spy Elain, is because of a comment about her being able to keep secrets and then being quiet in a room one time? Most importantly though, it connects her to Azriel, consistent characterization be damned. I mean the woman is sad that no one ever truly sees her, so it feels ooc to put her in a job where the whole point is to continue not being seen.

And Az was referring to Gwyn's smile/joy, not the necklace. Here is the quote:

Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it. But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

He could see how her eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. The "it" is a relative pronoun referring to the thought of her eyes lighting up. It doesn't take intensive knowledge of grammar or a complex sentence diagram for us to know that the transitive verb (to picture) has a direct object (how Gwyn's teal eyes might light).

The whole necklace thing is annoying on his part because yeah, he picked it out for Elain, but in a generic "girls like flowers and this is the one (1) thing that I know about Elain" way. I mean the fact that he was initially just like "idk give it to a priestess, any priestess" implies the generic nature of the necklace. But he's not thinking about the necklace, he's thinking about Gwyn's joy at receiving the necklace. (Meanwhile he doesn't give another thought to the fact that he clearly hurt Elain's feelings.)

And we also have one of her vague, hand-wavy "for whatever reason". Babe, Sarah Janet, we know the reason. When I say she's not subtle, and she tends to tell us something and pretend she is showing, that's what I mean. She's... not being subtle here. Especially not when she uses a super similar scene for a confirmed mated couple.

#gwynriel #ask #anon #antielriel #if I seem snarky it's not @ you anon #it's that these are still talking points

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pinktyuns · 1 year

Text

chapter one - he’s hot!

series : shoegaze sex

genre : roommate!taehyun x beomgyus bsf & lead guitarist of a band!reader

word count : 3512

warnings : cursing, mentions of one piece, so many mentions of avatar the last airbender, beomgyu is very beomgyu, pink tyun!! a mention of kevin de bruyne (?) taehyun is stressed, a ladybird reference (iykyk)

a/n : here is the first chapter!! i am literally just getting started here lol i hope u love her im so excited for whats 2 come!! <3

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Taehyun, are you even listening to me?” Beomgyu asked, causing Taehyun to look up from his laptop at the clearly annoyed brown haired boy glaring at him from across their shared kitchen table.

“To be honest, I wasn’t,” Taehyun mused, running a hand through his pale pink head, “this calculus is kicking my ass.”

Beomgyu sighed (quite dramatically, Taehyun wanted to add), “I was asking what you would think about someone moving into our spare room, and splitting rent three ways instead of two.”

Taehyun was interested now, the idea of another roommate in his and Beomgyu’s small, 3 bedroom 1 bathroom apartment was not something they had ever thought about. Currently they used the third bedroom as a guest room/storage; it mostly being a guest room for a drunk Jeon Jungkook who would fall asleep and was unable to make it back to his own bed most Friday nights, a tired and stressed from school Yang Jungwon, or Choi Soobin, who was pulling yet another anime marathon with them (Taehyun still didn’t know why Soobin and Beomgyu thought they could catch up on all of One Piece from the beginning, including filler, over one weekend but hey, you couldn’t say they weren’t ambitious).

Taehyun mused, thinking it would be nice to split rent three ways instead of two, but he liked his life with Beomgyu. Beomgyu, although not being the quietest, cleanest roommate, seemed to be a perfect match for Taehyun, and they’ve lived together since freshman year when they were placed in that shitty, drafty dorm together, becoming fast friends and have chosen to live together ever since.

Taehyun wondered how a third person adding to their life would affect his day-to-day activities and habits. A complete stranger coming into their life, who knows if they were clean or messy, if they were loud or quiet, if they were a goddamn serial killer or not.

“Well, who would it be?” Taehyun asked, “Like a random stranger?”

Beomgyu grinned across the table, his eyes lighting up, “No, you know my best friend y/n, right?”

Taehyun nodded slowly, “I’ve never met her, but yeah, you’ve definitely mentioned.”

“Okay so,” Beomgyu started, leaning onto the kitchen table, “she’s transferring universities, something about ours being better for her major or whatever, but she really doesn’t wanna live in the dorms and I definitelysaidshecouldliveherewithuspleasedon’tbemadIloveyou!” Beomgyu clasped his hands together at Taehyun, who was trying to understand his roommates rushed words, “You already told her she could live here?”

Taehyun wasn’t mad, just confused, he’s never met you but heard so much about you and your guys’ high school escapades from Beomgyu, the most memorable being planting trees in the football field simply because a football player had rejected you.

Beomgyu shook his head, fluffy brown hair swishing around him, “I didn’t like, say she could but I definitely didn’t say she couldn’t.”

“Oh my god, you’re hopeless,” Taehyun sighed at his friend, returning his attention to his laptop, sending Beomgyu into a panic, thinking that Taehyun had just ignored his question of you moving into their place even though he knew you were gonna arrive next weekend anyway.

“Wait!!” Beomgyu exclaimed, “before you get all sucked back into your weird hard math, is it cool or not?”

Taehyun sighed, thinking about the situation at hand, thinking about the pictures Beomgyu has of the pair of you from your high school graduation framed in his room; Beomgyu looking younger but with the same eyes, the pair of you beaming at the camera as you held onto each other in your caps and gowns.

Taehyun thought about the film photo Beomgyu has next to the graduation one: you at the beach, the sun setting at your back and a soft smile on your face as you look at the camera, wind blowing your hair around your face, your eyes almost teasing him, they had a playful sparkle in them.

Taehyun always thought you looked soft, it matched Beomgyu’s softness. He remembered when Beomgyu turned 21 and you, stuck in a chemistry lab, couldn’t make it to his birthday. He remembered Beomgyu’s disappointment until a carefully wrapped package arrived at the door, unveiling a gorgeous silver Leica camera with a handwritten note from you to your best friend. You seemed kind, and loving. Soobin had always agreed to that, also growing up with you and Beomgyu. Taehyun knew you often offered Soobin girl advice over the phone, and when he got too in his head you guys would have Studio Ghibli marathons over a Discord call.

Soobin and Beomgyu had always spoken so highly of you, it was almost like you were some urban legend in the apartment. Taehyun wondered if you moving in would really be that bad, and honestly, at that moment, he didn’t think so.

He didn’t lift his pink head up from his laptop, “It’s cool, Beomgyu. I have zero problem with it.”

Beomgyu leapt out of his chair, pumping his fist in the air like goddamned Kevin De Bruyne when he scored a goal for Manchester City, “YES! Oh my god I need to go call y/n right now!”

And just like that, he was gone, running out of the kitchen and into his room with a soft slam of the door, leaving Taehyun with his thoughts and his calculus.

———————————————————————-

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Taehyun asked Jungwon a week later, as Jungwon sat at Taehyun’s desk as Taehyun himself lay spread out on his made bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Jungwon eyed his best friend, looking away from his laptop, “Is what a good idea?”

Taehyun sighed as he continued to stare at the blank ceiling, “Y/n moving in. I don’t know why but I’m suddenly having doubts about her living here.”

Jungwon cocked his head, dark hair moving, eyes regarding Taehyun, “Are you having doubts because she moves in tomorrow and it’s all you’ve been thinking about?”

Taehyun hummed softly, “Maybe.”

There were a few beats of soft silence, which was a common occurrence between Taehyun and Jungwon’s friendship, both of them being on the quieter side.

The silence and Taehyun’s intense ceiling staring was broken by a soft knock at the door and a deep voice following it, “Hey, it’s me. Beomgyu let me in.”

Taehyun got up at the sound of Kim Namjoon’s voice to open the door to reveal their insanely tall, buff friend. Namjoon was the biggest out of all of them (even if Jungkook insisted he wasn’t) but he was somehow the gentlest, soft spoken and kind, insanely passionate about his Masters in art history.

He was also the oldest, the rest of them constantly going to him for advice or just to rant, he was always there.

“Hey Joon,” Jungwon mused from the desk as Taehyun went back to his bed to brood, “Tyuns having some sort of crisis again.”

Namjoon chucked as Taehyun glared up at the ceiling, “I’m not having a crisis. I’m just unsure.”

Namjoon shrugged his messenger bag off by the desk, sinking onto the beanbag chair next to it, “Unsure about what?”

Taehyun sighed yet again, “Beomgyu’s best friend y/n is moving in to the spare room tomorrow, I’ve never met her, and suddenly I’m wondering if her living here is really a good idea or not.”

“Y/n?” Namjoon repeated your name, sending Taehyun nodding, “Yeah.”

“I’ve met her, like twice,” Namjoon said, causing Taehyun to lift his head off the bed to look at his friend, pink hair following, “She’s really cool, kind of quiet but also like Beomgyu, you can tell. I remember we talked about music.”

“I don’t know if I can handle her being like Beomgyu or not,” Taehyun said softly, meaning no harm to his roommate and close friend.

Still typing away, Jungwon asked, “Why not?”

“It’s just,” Taehyun started, “I feel like Beomgyu and I mesh so perfectly, you know. He’s just so Beomgyu, like he’s loud and out there and everyone loves hin and he’s kinda messy but in an endearing way and the apartment is never quiet with him here and I’m not like that so I think with the two of us it’s just perfect but what if she’s just like him and I can’t handle two fucking Beomgyus.”

Namjoon held a soft hand in the air, “Okay, first, I get it. You’re stressed about the living together thing, and you really like what you have already. Second, I don’t think you’re realizing that even though they can be really alike from being friends for so long, there’s no way y/n’s gonna be exactly like Beomgyu, you know. She’s definitely gonna be different but that brings me to a whole other thing: is it possible you’re stressed about this so much right now because you’re so used to just ever living with Beomgyu, and you’re lowkey afraid of change?”

Taehyun laid back on the bed, thinking about his friends words in silence for what felt like five minutes.

“You killed him,” Jungwon joked from the desk, making Namjoon chuckle softly and Taehyun roll his eyes.

“I think you’re right, probably,” Taehyun said, “I think that over the past years I’ve just gotten so used to just Beomgyu and comfortable with just Beomgyu so the thought of someone else coming in is like daunting almost.”

Namjoon nodded from the beanbag, running a hand through his dark hair, “That’s not even a bad thing, like that’s a totally normal thing. I really think you and y/n will get along, from the two times I met her, she seemed totally cool and way calmer than Beomgyu.”

Jungwon giggled at that, “When I met her she was making fun of Beomgyu and when Soobin started laughing she called him a weeb.”

Taehyun smiled at that, silently grateful for his friends for easing his nerves.

“Thanks guys,” he smiled at them, “I needed that.”

Jungwon smiled back, shrugging his shoulders, “What are friends for?”

Namjoon nodded, agreeing, “I second that. Anyways, Super Smash? I’m still looking for a rematch because Won totally kicked my ass last time.”

Jungwon smirked, closing his laptop, “It’s not my fault you’re slow as hell on the buttons.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, “Yeah whatever. Tyun, you in?”

The pink haired boy nodded, smiling as his friends continued bickering about the game as they fired up the Switch.

———————————————————————-

“Oh my god, it’s y/n!!!” Beomgyu practically screeched when a soft knock on the door came, sounding through the apartment, sending Beomgyu to his feet sprinting towards it.

Taehyun couldn’t help but smile at his friend's happiness, even though his biceps were sore from cleaning out the spare bedroom. The whole time he and Beomgyu spent cleaning the spare bedroom for you Beomgyu gave him what he called “The 411,” on you.

Taehyun listened quietly as Beomgyu told story after story, but somehow failed to mention exactly what kind of roommate you would be.

Taehyun still sat on the couch pondering this, Avatar the Last Airbender playing softly on the TV in front of him as he heard the door swing open and Beomgyu shriek, “Y/N!!!”

All Taehyun could hear from his designated spot on the couch as loud, joyous laughter, both from Beomgyu and you. Taehyun listened to your laugh as Katara argued with Aang onscreen, deciding he liked the sound of it. It was loud and full of happiness. As he sat on his designated spot on their old couch, listening to Beomgyu bombard you with questions, he couldn't help but yet again wonder how you were going to fit in here, like take the couch for instance. He and Beomgyu both sat on opposite ends of the couch so they could lean on the armrests, what if you wanted to sit where Taehyun did?

As he bore holes from staring into Katara on the TV, Taehyun’s thoughts were interrupted by Beomgyu with a loud, “Taehyun!”

The pink haired boy looked up from the couch to see an insanely happy, beaming Beomgyu, and you, standing right next to him, smiling softly.

He regarded you, dressed in oversized black denim shorts and a flowy white tank top, chunky necklaces adorning your chest and rings over your fingers, Doc Marten sandals covering your feet (Beomgyu definitely rushed you in before you had time to take your shoes off). As he made eye contact with you, the photo of you at the beach in Beomgyu’s room popped into his head. Your eyes, full of life and mischief almost, staring into him, he felt as if he was going to crumble under your gaze. The soft smile on your face grew wider as Taehyun stood up from the couch, seeing how he almost towered over you.

“It’s nice to actually meet you,” you said with a breathless laugh, sticking out a hand for Taehyun to shake, “I’m y/n.”

Taehyun grabbed your hand and shook it, noticing it was warm and you had a pretty firm grip, looking down at you, “That’s weird, you shake hands.”

You shrugged, releasing his hand, “I meet a lot of people, force of habit.”

Taehyun, who Jungwon deemed having a staring problem, continued boring holes into you with his gaze, but you stared right back, that same soft smile and glint in your pretty eyes looking right back at him.

“Your stuff!” Beomgyu exclaimed, breaking the weird moment, “Where is it?”

You smiled at Taehyun again before turning to your best friend, “Most of it’s in the car, Yeonjun and Hueka are coming tomorrow in the van to drop off my vinyl if that’s cool.”

Taehyun noticed that when you asked that question you weren’t really asking Beomgyu, you were asking him. Looking up at him as you asked, making it seem like you knew Beomgyu would say it was okay and you wanted his approval. Taehyun really appreciated that, sending you a small nod.

Beomgyu, though, answered, “Yeah of course! I haven’t seen them in forever!”

You laughed, that same pure, happy sound ringing throughout Taehyuns ears as Beomgyu wrapped his arm around you, pulling you back to the door to go get your stuff from your car.

Once you guys were out of the apartment, the front door still open, Taehyun let out a long sigh he didn’t know he was holding.

It seemed that at this moment he had been worried about nothing, you seemed nice and chiller than Beomgyu, and you actually took his feelings into account. It was just green flags so far.

“Hey,” your voice came from the open door, your head peeking in, “I was wondering if I could get some help carrying some of my shit, Beomgyu’s lowkey weak.”

Taehyun laughed, walking over to you at the door, “He’s probably just gonna complain too.”

You let out a small giggle, looking up at the much taller boy, “Finally someone else who understands.”

You guys walked downstairs together in a comfortable silence, no awkwardness there, Taehyun deciding that maybe you would be a good roommate.

———————————————————————

“Yunjin, you don’t understand my problem!” you whisper-yelled over the phone, “he’s hot!”

“No, I just don’t get how that’s a problem,” Yunjin replied, you could practically see her rolling her eyes.

You let out a loud exhale and flopped onto your bed, breathing in aggressively, the white bed sheets smelling like boy, and much of it wasn’t Beomgyu, you knew what he smelled like even after months of not seeing each other. It had to be Taehyun. The whole apartment was just Taehyun. Beomgyu you were used to but those were not Beomgyus earthy Japanese cyprus, jasmine, and spice scented candles that seemed to be suffocating you whichever room you went in. And let’s not forget that the extra room you were taking was RIGHT next to Taehyun’s, who liked to leave his door open, the smell of him flooding into your room as you sorted your boxes. Your mind was reeling, there was no way there was a boy that attractive just living in this house with Beomgyu, no way.

“It’s a problem because he’s my roommate, and I have to see this insanely hot, buff, sweet, pink-haired, cute man every single day now and Beomgyu would probably kick my ass if he knew I thought that about Taehyun!”

Yunin snickered over the phone, “You really think Beomgyu could kick your ass?”

“That’s not the point,” you huffed, “What am I gonna DO?”

“I really don’t think you can DO anything,” she replied, some chatter in the background of the call, “I think you just have to recognize and accept that he’s hot and move on, just live with him.”

You flipped over to stare at the ceiling, boxes all around the floor surrounding you, laying in silence until Yunjin snapped over the phone, “No FUCKING way, Park Sunghoon, absolutely not, you are a goddamn menace to society.”

You could hear Sunghoon’s distinct laugh over the call as Yunjin continued to complain.

You smiled hearing the chatter of your friends over the phone, even though they were only like 20 minutes away now, it was weird talking on the phone and not just meeting at Sunghoons house.

“Listen, y/n,” Yunjin started, apparently done yelling at Sunghoon, “It’s really gonna be okay, just chill out, unpack your shit and get comfortable. It’ll all be okay, promise.”

You exhaled, feeling relief spread through your body at her words, “Thanks, Yunjin. What would I do without you?”

She giggled, “Die, probably.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh my god, bye. I love you.”

“Love you,” she said sweetly before ending the call, most likely going to bother Sunghoon.

You sighed, sitting up on the bed and looking at the boxes around you, not looking forward to unpacking them.

———————————————————————

Much, much later that night, Taehyun was perched on the couch, Avatar the Last Airbender playing quietly in front of him yet again, and on the other side of the couch was a passed out Beomgyu, softly snoring.

Taehyun barely noticed you walking into the room, you’d been in the kitchen for about five minutes getting water, but he didn’t even see you there.

“I really think Zuko’s character arc was one of the best arcs in cinematic history,” your soft voice came from behind Taehyun, his head whipping around to see you leaning on the wall connecting the kitchen and the living room, glass of water in your hand, a huge gray hoodie that definitely was not yours adoring your frame, legs in black and white checkered pajama pants.

The light of the television lit up your face perfectly, frames dancing over your soft smile, Taehyun ignoring his stomach flipping and nodding, “It definitely was.”

You breathed a soft laugh, nodding your head towards your sleeping best friend, “I’m guessing this is normal, yeah?”

Taehyun turned his head to look at Beomgyu, mouth slightly open, head hung over his shoulder, brown hair messily framing his face, “Yeah, he’ll wake up at like two-ish and go start gaming with Soobin or Jungkook.”

You smiled softly, the pair of you smiling at the sleeping boy while listening to Sokka complain onscreen.

“Is it cool if I join you?” you asked suddenly, “Avatar’s my favorite and I kinda wanna just chill.”

Taehyun nodded without a second thought, making you smile and breathe out a soft, “Be right back.”

Taehyun watched as you padded down the hall towards Beomgyus room, going in there just to return with a blanket and a pillow, coming back and lifting his sleeping head up softly to place the pillow underneath, draping the blanket over him.

Taehyuns earlier inner turmoil over where you would sit on the couch was over nothing apparently, because you casually sat down in the middle of the two, one arm leaning on Beomgyu as he slept.

You were close to him, Taehyun released, running a hand through his pink hair as both of you watched the TV in silence. You were close enough to where he could smell your shampoo, he knew you had showered earlier. You smelled crisp and sweet, a little like poppies and pear, and rhubarb. You were close enough where you guys weren’t touching but he could feel your warmth.

He heard a loud sigh, one that was definitely from Beomgyu and not you, to look over and see Beomgyu nuzzling into your shoulder under his blanket, your hand going up to scratch his head.

You and Taehyun made eye contact and shared the smallest smile over the sleeping boy, you letting out a small giggle, both of you turning your attention back to the TV.

It was nice and comforting sitting in silence with you, Taehyun thought, even though the only thing clogging his senses was the sweet smell of you.

The pair of you (plus a passed out snoring Beomgyu) sat on the couch in the moonlight watching your show in silence, Taehyun deciding that maybe you moving in wasn’t gonna be so bad.

masterlist - next

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fawnandshadows · 1 year

Text

How You Get The Girl

Chapter 12

Chapter 11

AO3

Warnings: Language

“Do they give you any jewelry to keep?” Mor asked excitedly, her brown eyes taking in her surroundings excitedly.

It was really the first time Mor was on her detail since they’ve been back from the tour, and her approach was vastly different from Lucien’s. Lucien was more stand-quietly and observe — glowering at anyone who approached her, and Mor was as friendly as could be. Always making conversation with Elain and disarming anyone that approached them with a smile, but Elain knew what Mor was capable of. She was just as lethal as any other bodyguard, and a threat at ease was easier to neutralize.

“Sometimes,” Elain said, careful not to move her lips as her makeup artist applied her lipstick with a brush. “As a gift.”

Mor nodded as if understanding Elain perfectly.

It was a closed set, and security had already vetted everyone prior to the shoot, but by the way Mor kept looking around Elain could tell she was amping up her excitement to hide the way she surveyed her surroundings. Nothing had ever happened on set before, but Elain still appreciated the effort.

Mor made conversation with the girl applying Elain’s makeup, and Elain stared straight ahead in the mirror. Her silk robe covering the champagne slip dress she was wearing and her hair was done in romantic, voluptuous curls that were coated in layers upon layers of hairspray but still managed to have bounce and movement. And her makeup was light, natural, ethereal.

She was so happy — Elain hated the more avant garde looks that so many favored. And some models looked great with them, but they looked so jarring on her.

“Just about done,” Her make-up artist said, applying one last swipe of the rosy colored lipstick. “And there! Perfection, you’re good to go.”

People started swarming her, taking her robe and talking to her all at one. Elain simply nodded along, not absorbing a single word they said, and let herself be guided to the set.

“Darling!” Elain heard the director's voice call out to her, accompanied by the rapid clicking of heels. “You’re even more stunning than usual.”

Elain turned to see the blonde head of Aelin heading her way and let a smile form on her face.

“It’s great to see you, Aelin,” Elain held out her hands and the pair gave each other air kisses on the cheek. “How was Venice?”

“Everytime I’m there I wonder why the fuck I’m living in the states,” Aelin shrugged dramatically. “And then I remember that people like you are here and I have bills to pay.”

“One day we can do a shoot in Italy. Maybe along the riviera?” Elain leaned in conspiratorially.

“Don’t tease me,” Aelin squeezed her hands. “But I do have some exciting news. Word on the street is that Cartier is looking for a new brand ambassador, so if this goes well…” She trailed off, waggling her eyebrows slightly. “And I may or may not, but definitely did, have thought of something absolutely brilliant for today’s shoot and called in reinforcements.”

“Reinforcements? That’s how you refer to me?” A deep, amused voice interrupted them.

She watched as Aelin rolled her bright blue eyes and took a step away, exposing a body Elain had only seen on magazines and television.

“Fenrys,” Elain said gently, giving him a friendly smile. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

He flashed an unnervingly sensual smile at her.

“So you’ve heard of me.”

— —

“Did you know he was going to be there?” Elain asked, settling into the passenger seat as Mor started the car.

“No fucking clue,” Mor huffed, furrowing her brows. “I can’t believe Aelin would do this to us, after all the times you’ve worked with her.”

Elain sighed, “Yeah, I’ll tell her not to do it again, even though she already knows. But how do you think the pictures will turn out?”

Mor gave her a mischievous look before pulling out.

“You’re two of the hottest people on the planet, even if Fenrys gives me the ick, and you were drowning in fine jewelry while looking hopelessly devoted to each other. It’s a guaranteed success. Beauty. Sex. Romance. And Diamonds.”

“Sex?” Elain squealed, her cheeks blushing, especially since Mor caught Azriel’s head between her thighs just a few days ago. “In what world? We held hands and looked into each others eyes.”

“Eye-fucking is a thing,” Mor replied. “And you should know. You and Azriel do it all the damn time.” Her tone was carefully neutral, but Elain was smart enough to recognize it as a trap.

“Azriel’s hot,” Elain said simply, her fingers digging into her leather seat. “I’m sure lots of people eye-fuck him. And I’m sure security knows exactly how people objectify me,” Elain’s face screwed as she thought of all the disturbing letters she’s gotten over the years, and she didn’t envy security for having to dig through all of them. “So I can only imagine that people eye-fuck me when they see me”

“Please,” Mor said incredulously and flipped her blonde curls over her shoulder. “First of all, I saw the vigor with which he ate you out,” She quickly glanced at Elain with a scolding look. “Second of all, even after you promised me it was a one time thing, every time you are in the same room together it looks like you’re one second away from ripping each other's clothes off and going at it like animals. Fuck,” Mor slapped her hands against the steering wheel. “All I did was make it hotter for you. Everyone knows that forbidden sex is the hottest sex.”

Elain couldn’t help the amusement dancing on her lips and causing them to upturn.

“Nothing has happened.” Elain reassured her.

And it was the truth.

There was copious amounts of texting, and if it was anyone else, then Elain would have been freaking out thinking that she was bothering them. The filter between her brain and fingers seemed nonexistent because she couldn’t resist texting Azriel every little thought that popped into her mind, but he always responded in a way that was thoughtful. Like he cared about what she was thinking. And he texted her as often as he could. Whenever he was quiet for an extended amount of time Elain knew he was on duty.

It was absurdly nice, having someone to talk to. To look at her phone with anticipation and have a little zip of lightning flutter through her when she sees his name on her screen.

It was just so nice.

Having something to look forward to. And having that something be Azriel…well…oxygen felt thinner when she thought about that for too long.

And their flirting had become significantly tamer. Neither of them brought up the fact that Azriel went down on her, or that Elain told him she wanted to see his dick, piercing and all.

“Yet,” Mor said, casting her one more look. “Nothing else has happened yet. And you’re lucky I found him and not Rhys.”

Elain sighed.

“Cassian wouldn’t have cared if he walked in on us.” Elain said, crossing her arms and noting that Mor turned into their street.

An amused choke lodged in Mor’s throat.

“Cassian would have asked to join in.”

“That’s not true,” Elain said as Mor entered their parking garage. “He’s hung up on Nesta.”

Mor tilted her head in agreement.

“True,” She said, finding their assigned spot. “But the three of them all shared in the past.”

“Excuse me?” Elain asked, blinking as she stared at Mor, feeling like she had just been struck by thunder. And not in a good way.

Mor stilled for a second before turning the car off and pivoting to Elain.

“Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand,” Mor said carefully, her face cringing at the thought. “Believe me I wish I didn’t know, and as soon as Feyre and Rhysand got together my cousin never even looked at another woman. Um, I can’t say the same for Cassian and Azriel though.”

Elain stared at her bodyguard.

“And Azriel and Cassian, do they — do they still — share?”

“Every once in a while, but nothing recently. I think. I try to ignore their bedroom habits, honestly, but it’s a bit hard since we all live together.”

Elain nodded.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Mor agreed, taking a deep breath. “Don’t get me wrong, Azriel could totally do the long-term, monogamous thing with the right girl. But he comes with a hefty amount of baggage.”

“So do I.” Elain said, gripping her seat.

“It’s not the same, sweetie,” Mor looked at her, tilting her head in sympathy. “And Azriel is the type of guy to choose the woman he loves over the woman he’s supposed to protect, and that would kill him because he loves Feyre. You don’t want that for him, do you? Look, I already promised I wouldn’t tell anyone, and even if you guys do choose to be together I want you to know what you’re agreeing to. And we haven’t even touched on his family yet,” Mor cut herself off with a deep breath. “Look, Azriel will love you and love you good, but if you guys are together, then I don’t want to know about it.”

Elain just gave a small nod in response.

Mor shook her head, as if erasing the last few minutes from existence and smiled.

“Now, are you ready for family movie night?”

-------

tagging: @123moiaussi @fuckmelifesucks @thefangirlofhp@sakurakittypeach @nikethestatue @tswaney17 @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyredarlinq@duskwhisperer @nyxreads @rinadragomir @secretpuppyflower@captainbrucebanner @ultadverb @irisesforelain @shedoessoshedoes @magnolia-blossom87 @sheenabeene @nivem565 @casuallivi @rhysiedarling@elain99-blog @athena-85 @swankii-art-teacher @reverie-tales @jujugirlfrombookstore @shadowflorecita@shy-violet-soul @thisloveseternal

#elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #pro elriel #azriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #fawnandshadows writing

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early-byrd · 8 months

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I Don't Know These People.

The feeling of losing friends, drifting apart from people you once were so close to, the thought, “I Don’t Know These People”.

—

I attended a pool party for a friend's birthday. I was hesitant, in part because I don’t like parties, but mostly because I don’t enjoy being shirtless. I did end up going, and with it, I met with some of my old friends I hadn’t seen in a long time.

When I say that, one might think a few weeks, a few months, or if we’re a bit dramatic a few days. Though, by definition, “a long time” is being “far in the past.” And yeah, I hadn’t seen these friends in over 2 years. The last time I saw them was in March of 2020, as I jokingly referred to as “Pre-Plague.”

—

Writer and professor Yiyun Li once said “Things change a lot. Within a blink, a mountain flattens and a river dries up. Nobody knows who he'll become tomorrow.” We live each day changing bit by bit. Physically, of course, through height, weight, or hairstyle. It can also be mental, feeling down one day or feeling enthusiastic another. Only a single day can cause so much change. Imagine two and a half years of nothing but small conversations with little to no substance beyond funny pictures and small talk.

I looked out at the pool full of people I knew and loved. I had grown up with them for 3 years, and yet, I didn’t know them anymore. They all seemed so different, in almost uncanny ways. Some of them had new haircuts, some had gotten more muscular, and some had gotten taller, but more than that, these people had changed in a way I can’t possibly describe.

Like the slow, gradual changing of your hometown, a street light here, a few lanes there. You don’t realize it at the moment, but you know, something, maybe everything, is different.

My friends didn’t change in major ways, but as I thought about it I realized how far we had grown apart. They lived in different areas and went to different schools, of course, we would grow apart and they would change, but it doesn’t feel like I’ve changed.

—

It seems so cliche, like a hero’s journey, going through personal development constantly, but lacking when it comes to recognizing that development. Applying it to other people, however, proves rather easy.

This person went through a bad relationship and came out the other side stronger. That person went through a death in the family and learned to deal with loss.

Even in literature, character change is explored. Bilbo Baggins starts as a very grounded, safe, non-adventuring person, and by the end, he yearns for a new adventure with peril and danger. In James Dashner’s The Maze Runner, Thomas, the main character, starts the story as a fish out of water, struggling to survive in his alien environment. But by the end, he’s the leader of his companions, they look up to him for leadership and courage.

Things like this happen constantly in the real world as well. Countries’ relationships develop constantly, markets dictate how companies interact, and connections are formed and changed as needed.

The thing is, though, those are all obvious changes. When looked at from an outside perspective, they have a rhyme, a rhythm, and a reason for happening.

—

I left that party a little early that evening, partly because I wanted to be home early, but also partly because I felt so out of place. I used to care for these people, and I still do, but a fundamental part of that care is missing and I don’t think I can get it back.

It feels almost ironic to say, “Things have changed, and that's okay.” As if I’m a late 2000s song about moving on. On the other hand, it also feels weird to acknowledge the fact that the world does change, and whether I like it or not, people change along with it. My friend groups won’t always be the same, but for the time being, I should spend a little more time with the people closest to me.

#authors #my writing #writing #creative writing #write #writeblr #writers on tumblr #author #writerscommunity #writer things

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 9 months

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A/N = There were some parts of this I was like, hoo! 🥵. Hope you guys enjoy. This took me for-frickin-ever to fine-tune.

C/W = P -> V. Brief masturbation. Sweet names, y/n / reader called "Mama" once or twice. An overly dramatic origami reference. Enjoy!

ღ Sweet Dreams ღ

● It was after 2:30 in the morning when Geto got off work. Being a tow truck driver, though, odd hours come with the territory.

● He was hoping you'd still be awake when he got back to the loft. You were, but tonight, you didn't want him to know that.

● As you heard the deep rumble of his motorcycle, you positioned yourself so you were facing away from the door, and the first thing he'd see was your barely covered backside.

● It was cold in the loft in the winter, so he installed a heating system that made it feel like the desert mid-hot season. You had a couple of windows cracked so you could hear the rain slapping the asphalt. And so you wouldn't suffocate. When Geto did something, he didn't do it half-assed.

● You heard him park his bike in the garage and open the door to the lower-level entryway. He hung his helmet and started up the stairs. He always meant to miss the creaky one, but 9 times out of 10, he would step on it. "God – goddamnit. I need to fix that." He complained. But you were always able to count the steps as he ascended, knowing after the creaky spot, there were 11 more to go until the landing and the large metal sliding door.

● He slid the door open as softly and quietly as he could manage. The building was over 150 years old, though. Some things would just never be the same. But you loved this place. And what Geto's baby wants, his baby gets.

● He walked in to find you lying on top of the bed in your designated 'bedroom space.' He was surprised he didn't wake you. You were usually a light sleeper. But he chalked it up to you getting used to his late-night noises. He kicked his boots off and made his way to the bed. His bare toes padded across the hardwood floor to see you. And despite looking the part of a dreamer, you were very much awake.

● The billboard across the street cast the space in a red glow. Your skin looked pink to him, and it made him want to taste you.

● The mere availability of your body was making the growing bulge in his pants a noticeable nuisance. He would have to do something about it. Or wake you and have you do something about it.

● He unzipped the top half of his coveralls and pulled them down to rest just below his waistline. He took off his grease-stained undershirt and tossed it in the dirty clothes basket.

● You shuffled slightly, moving onto your back. You positioned one leg bent and the other outstretched.

● Geto stood in just his coveralls, half hanging off of him. Then he took a step towards you.

● "Baby ... I'm home. Are ... you awake? Babe?"

● He started rubbing your foot. You were always such a sucker for a foot massage.

● It was so hard not to giggle when he hit your ticklish spots. But you knew it would be in your interest to persevere. What came after would be well worth the mild suffering.

● Your breathing changed a little and he thought you might be coming around.

● "Y/n? Baby?" He grunted in frustration. All he wanted was you. He thought about you all day at work. The picture of you he kept on the visor is what kept him going tonight til quitting time.

● It was an arduous day: He had to tow 2 semis to the city over from where he worked. It was cold and rainy. He didn't want to be out in that shit. Rain was better when you were inside looking out.

● He needed to be home with you. Cuddled up. Kissing. Sucking. Fondling. Fucking.

● He slid his hands up underneath your legs, massaging the muscles.

● His cock was strained so tightly against his clothing. He felt like a noose was wrapped around his neck.

● Geto stood up and pulled his coveralls the rest of the way off. Leaving just his black briefs on.

● "It makes you look so mysterious. Dangerous, even." You'd say, laughing as he pretended to attack you. Biting at your neck and breasts.

● He went back to your bare legs, continuing to massage the warm limbs.

● "Fuck, baby. Please wake up for me. I wan'cha."

● You took a deep breath. Stretching your arms over your head, exposing the rounded bottoms of your breasts as his cut-off tank top rode up your belly.

● "Oh, hey, baby." You looked at the twitching bulge in his underwear and smiled.

● "When did ya get home?" Knowing full well the moment he walked into the large space.

● Geto climbed on top of you, laying between your legs.

● He looked down at the wet spot in your pink panties and smiled through kissing you.

● "Havin' a good dream, baby?" He laughed.

● You pulled all of his weight down onto you. He felt so good, resting on you. Smashing your small body into the too-soft mattress.

● "Jus' dreamin' 'bout you, hot stuff."

● He laughed at your dumb term of endearment and pressed his covered cock into you.

● You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close to your face. You didn't kiss him, but the two of you looked at each other as his hips rolled slowly into your frustratingly inaccessible cunt.

● "Hold on." Geto said. He reached up and pulled your arms down, one at a time, and plastered kisses from your neck down to your belly.

● Taking your panties into his teeth, he snapped the elastic against your tender skin.

● "Ow! What –" He started kissing and licking at the pinkened flesh. "What the ffffuck, God, Suguru ... that – hmmm" You hummed. Letting the slight assault slide because he was making it all better.

● You laid back on your elbows to watch him kiss your inner thighs. Hair had come out of the messy bun it was in and pooled around his beautiful face. So you brushed it aside. And he looked into your eyes as he licked a light trail to your pussy.

● "D'ya forgive me now, Mama?" He pulled your weaponized panties the rest of the way down off of your hips, knees, and feet, throwing them onto the floor.

● "Oh shit," you said as you fell back onto the pile of pillows as he gave your clit tiny but firm licks.

● He lifted his head for a moment. "Well, would ya look at that. You're so wet for me already. So wet for this ..."

● He slipped 2 fingers inside of you and curled them up. Rubbing that one spot that drives you deeper into his clutches.

● You raised your hips a little to meet his hand and mouth.

● "Mm-mm, let me."

● Relaxing your body back into the bed, he began the painfully slow push/pull of his fingers. You could feel your hot walls closing down on him with each sweep of his fingers.

● "Su–, fas–faster, please, baby." You begged, but he wanted this to last.

● Pulling his fingers out of you, he stuck them in his mouth and sucked your juices off of them. He climbed on top of you and began kissing your chest.

● "Ah – Su, my tits are sensitive. Be careful." He made a fake pouty face at your plea and kissed where he'd been too rough with his teeth.

● "Better?" He asked in a slightly patronizing tone. He sucked on your nipples slowly. The one that wasn't in his mouth was in his large, grease-stained hand.

● He inched up to meet your gaze. His briefs are getting completely wet from pressing into you.

● "So fuckin' hard. Why don't ya take those off, mm. Do us both a favor." You asked, hoping he wouldn't pick on your excitement about the possibility.

● "You think you're ready, huh? Hell. Who 'm I to deny my girl."

● "I am! C'mon." You've recited these words so many times. Convincing him that you're ready. It was like a game to you two now. "But stand up, I wanna see you pull them down." Your eyes were slits, "Slowly." You have a dark glint in your eye. He liked it.

● Geto stood up and took a couple of steps back from the bed and rubbed his cock over his briefs.

● He never broke eye contact with you.

● Staring at him, practically drooling, you got up on your knees on the bed and waved him over to you. "Fuck, Suguru."

● He deliberately lowered one side of the waistband. Showing off his chiseled hip.

● After he had sufficiently memorized your eyes begging him to fuck you, he took 2 steps and he stood in front of you. His cock hung heavily between you both.

● "Suguru ..."

● Your lips pressed together. Tongues danced in and out of the other's mouth. Soft moans and harsh breathing filled the air.

● Geto lowered you back on the bed and began stroking his cock. "Touch your pretty li'l pussy for me."

● He stayed on his knees between your open legs, devotedly pumping himself in and out of his rough hand.

● "Shit, I love watching you do that. Do it faster, harder." You told him as you rubbed tight circles on your clit with one hand, pinching your nipple with the other.

● "Enough. Fuck. C'mere." You said flatly.

● He seemed to snap out of a trance when you spoke. "Mmhm."

● He eased himself down and rested his hips against yours. The heat leaking from his body was making your heart rate erratic.

● Geto lowered his hand and rubbed his fat tip against your soft, wet opening. Your hips instinctively push up.

● He gave all of himself to you in a split second. He filled every bit of your fluttering walls. "Oh, f-fuck, baby. You're so –hngh shit!" He put his head on your shoulder as he moved ever so slightly.

●You held his ass cheeks in your hands, trying to get him to go deeper.

● Geto pulled back until only his cock head remained inside of you. You had begun to shiver – just the way he liked you – and your legs scrambled on the sheets to ground your feet. You're trying to raise your hips even more.

● "Nope. You're gonna have to wait for me this time. But we'll get you there, baby. We'll both get there." He said as he rocked slowly into you.

● He was doing his best to go slow, but the way your pussy was wrapped around him. The way it was milking him. It was causing him to be drawn into a frenzy of want.

● He kissed your neck and took a deep breath, sighing heavily to release the air.

● He pulled his head back slowly and he looked down at your face, watching your eyes close at the sensation of him filling you up.

● "How's this, Mama?" You didn't answer with words. Your eyebrows furrowed deeply and your pretty mouth sat frozen in an 'O'. Your eyes looked like you were trying to solve the most complex equation. He could tell you were in this deep. Just the motion of your hips was an affirmation.

● He rocked his body forward and he began fucking you a little faster. He can feel his resistance waning.

● "L'ways so tight for me. I can't get enough of you – of your pussy. I love the way she holds me. The way you squeeze me. It's all for me. Say my name." He said. His breathing was growing more shallow.

● "Y/n, fuck – look at me." His eyes are looking directly into yours as he continues to move his hips back and forth. "Say it!"

● "Su – ah ... god –" you squeaked. "Fuck! S-Suguru ..." Your voice cracks and he smiles, showing how he brightens up behind his otherwise dark features. "You feel so good. I want you – mm!"

● He leaned in to kiss you as he began to fuck you harder. You moaned into his mouth feeling how warm and soft his lips were. He tasted like cigarettes. A smell you've come to appreciate on him in its sick way.

● Geto picked up his speed, trying to reach that point of no return. "Oh, sweetheart ... so good ... Jesus fu–, fuck baby ..." He moved his right hand from holding your face and wrapped them both under and around your shoulders. Your arms are locked around his neck, fingers intertwined in his hair.

● "Oh my god, Suguru. Cu– cum in me, Su–!" He grunted in your ear as he felt his body release everything it had pent up for you. The way your cunt was sucking him in. "So fucking – tight." He bit down on your shoulder.

● His body convulsed and the feeling of his hot cum inside of you is enough to have you fold in on yourself like smashed origami.

● Your orgasm rolled out in waves, you could feel the electric pulsing inside of your cunt. "Oooh goddd." You both sighed as he let his upper body fall on top of you.

● "Ohh, baby. We gotta do that again ... fuck. I'm sorry for waking you up ... I don't even know where I got all that energy. I just had to have you tonight." He breathed, kissing your neck.

● "Have me any night, my Sugu baby." You said, scratching your fingers through the fine hairs at the base of his neck.

● He stayed on top of you, sweetly kissing you you. And you The two of you laid like that until you fell asleep.

Thank you for reading!

ଓ Sarah ઇ

#jjk #jjk geto #jjk suguru #jjk geto suguru #jjk suguru geto #geto x reader #jjk smut #geto x y/n #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru #bedtime is the best time #jjk men #geto suguru #geto smut #suguru smut #jjk suguru smut

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masonuf · 3 months

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Post for 2/16

I appreciated the artistic style of “Heart of Thomas” quite a lot. It’s clear that the author knew how to use shading and gradients to their advantage to capture the depth of elements in a scene when it’s needed for dramatic effect. More importantly, is this the first gay romance that we’ve seen in this class (at least as far as I remember)? Huge! I personally don’t go out of my way to consume romantic media, but to me, it’s sometimes nice when it’s sprinkled into media that’s not primarily romance-focused. Anyway, I think that the authors made the characters in “Heart of Thomas” quite androgynous, at least in my view. To me, it didn’t feel like I was reading a gay romance necessarily, but just a romance between two people. I searched it up and it turned out that a female author wrote this, so maybe she wanted female readers to be able to insert themselves as the characters, too? If anyone else has different interpretations, please let me know – I’m curious if other people also got the vibe that the characters seemed androgynous.

Prior to reading “Yaoi Ronso,” I never knew that the term “yaoi” referred to explicitly sexual manga. Perhaps I’m uncultured; I thought it was just all BLB manga in general. You can call me weak but I’ll be honest: much of this article was extremely difficult to read while I was casually just eating lunch… so I skimmed over some parts that painted too clear of a picture in my mind (the author had NO business being THAT descriptive). I think I got the general gist of it, though. One of the points the author argued that made sense to me was that some frisky scenarios only work well for the majority of readers if it’s put in the context of a homosexual relationship rather than a heterosexual one due to some of our cultural norms. One part I did find funny about the article was when someone wrote an erotic romance to present homosexuality in a bad light, but it backfired because the gay community loved it. I can just imagine them saying, “Oh you mean that one? Yeah, that’s a classic. A rite of passage. You’ve got to read it some time.”

Image from https://comicsalliance.com/moto-hagio-the-heart-of-thomas-review-preview/.

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

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October 21st

Cosy pyjamas

Ah Maglor and Finrod, my two beloved but very annoying friends (haunting me endlessly)...

I am not entirely sure who to tag as I've read so many ficlets and full-blown fics about them. Hmmmm...@oopsbirdficced, I've made reference to Finrod/Caranthir though haha...

Also special shoutout to @cuarthol who writes a beautiful Finrod and who does so many different things with such style and poise that I am always in awe! Check it out!!!

Here's the amazing art by @theresonlyzuul ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Words: 568

Warnings: Undressing...nothing really :D

“Eru forfend,” Maglor cursed under his breath as he unwrapped the parcel Finrod had handed him with such evident pride; he was still not entirely convinced of the “girl’s night without the girls”-sleepover plan his favourite half-cousin had come up with but – as several of his brothers had explicitly refused to attend it – he had taken it upon himself to fulfil Finrod’s whimsical wish.

How could he have resisted when his kinsman – clad in a silken pyjama in a shimmering emerald green that much complimented his sparkling eyes – was all but bouncing like a ball of pure light in his eager anticipation of the fun they’d have?

“Where did Nelyo go?” Finrod asked wistfully while Maglor unfolded the thick, warm pyjama in Fëanorian red onto which tiny harps and flutes had been embroidered in a beautiful display of both skill and artistic talent.

The golden-haired menace had been so enamoured with his own plan that – evidently – not even Maglor’s lack of suitable attire could stop him from making this the most epic and memorable of sleepovers since before the first coming of the light.

“My sweetling,” Maglor sighed dramatically, shedding his own clothes shamelessly to slip into the generous gift he had been granted, “did you really think Nelyo and Finno came because they wanted to emulate the secret meetings your sister and Aredhel have?”

“Yes,” Finrod replied, outraged by the suggestion that he’d doubt his cousin’s word.

“I am most aggrieved to let you know then that tonight’s entertainment shall be reserved for the two of us; it’s highly improbable that the other firstborns will join us before it is time to scurry back to our own beds.”

“I am being used, am I not?” Finrod made a face that wavered between vexation and fascination.

“Do you object to the intimacy?” Maglor cocked one eyebrow provocatively, giving a little twirl so his host could admire the shape of his body underneath the heavy layer of warming fabric. He loved the fact that his bad circulation and tendency to feel cold when sitting down for too long had been considered in the choice of apparel; Finrod’s discreet attention to those details warmed his heart more than any pyjamas could ever have warmed his icy limbs.

“Not in the least,” Finrod chirped with renewed enthusiasm, “you’ve always been my favourite anyway. We can share a blanket.”

He was feeling quite snuggly and comfortably cosy already, but Maglor was not fool enough to refuse the chance to cuddle up against his golden-haired cousin and bask in the heat of his indefatigable hopefulness.

His eyes narrowed as he grew suspicious of his own enthusiasm. “What about Moryo?”

Finrod blinked at him, the very picture of startled innocence, and breathed: “Yes, what about Moryo? Let’s not talk about your brothers, hmmm?”

There were things Finrod was clearly dissimulating or – which was more probable in his case – pointedly ignoring until they came to bite him in the behind, but Maglor agreed that, just this once, he should not waste a single thought on his annoying, disruptive, and dearly beloved siblings.

Nodding vaguely, he hurriedly thought a few soothing words and shreds of half-forgotten prayers to Eru so the One would not prompt Nelyo and Finno to change their mind after all; this promised to become a very lovely evening indeed and Maglor had no desire to see it interrupted by anyone or anything.

@fellowshipofthefics :D (I am making good on my month)

Lots of love from me...this was a small - a little sweeter - ficlet. (Can't all be bad smut and insinuated sadness, right?)

-> Masterlist

#fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes #fotfics October challenge #fotfics fictober #ficlet run #1 scene per day #a different pairing every day #the silm #the silmarillion #maglor #finrod #Maglor/finrod #sleepover #pyjamas #sweetness

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darlinggeorgiedear · 2 years

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Can you tell me a story or two you know about the married life of Queen Mary and King George?

Everyone thinks they got married to protect the monarchy or they say that the reason they continue their sex life is to produce arrivals. I don't want to believe all this. It seems ridiculous to me that Mary avoids sharing a bed with her husband or does not want to have physical contact with him. I believe they love each other. Yes heir They were supposed to produce, but it seemed strange to me that they only had sexual intercourse for the child or stayed together for the monarchy. What do you think about this?

Curious about your comment?

King George V and Queen Mary had a strong loving marriage!

I think their engagement period wasn't very ideal for many reason. George was deeply mourning his brother and marrying his fiancé was not making it better. Also their wedding was rushed, which resulted in a hectic and stressful period for the both of them. Of course, George and Mary were fond of and admired each other before the wedding, but when people say they married for duty, I think they are referring to their unideal engagement story since they didn't really know each other.

On a side note, I was thinking how crazy it was that any royal marriage ended successful because of the limited choice of candidates. In our modern world, the thought of choosing a spouse from a group of twenty would be insane. Even a couple like Nicholas and Alexandra, who had to fight for their union so are usually seen as a "love match" (in my opinion all marriages in these situations were arranged to a certain extent), really didn't know each other pre-marriage compared to modern ideals.

One of my favorite KGV and Q Mary marriage story includes:

“On a state visit to the King of the Belgians in 1922 he wrote in his diary: ‘May lives at one end of the Palace & I at the other, it is not very convenient.’93 In the middle of the night May heard her bedroom door opening. She switched on the light and there, peering round the screen, was his ‘dear, sad little face’, having found his way to her rooms on his own in the dark from the other end of the palace”

Excerpt From George V "Never a Dull Moment" by Jane Ridley

KGV and Mary actually shared a bed throughout their whole marriage (which was unusual for the upperclass) . I, of course, have no idea if Mary enjoyed her husband in such a way, but they did have lots of children. I've made this point before, but there is newspaper articles from around 1911, when he first became King, saying Mary was pregnant. Since her last child was born many years before that, I assume she miscarried, which shows her and George were sleeping with each other even in their upper 40s/50s.

Also, many upper-class (and royal) couples in those days only had a two-three kids (like KGV's sisters), so to assume they had that many kids for duty would be wrong. If they did not enjoy each other in that way, KGV would have stopped sleeping with Mary probably after George VI or Pss Mary, in my opinion.

KGV also never took a mistress throughout the marriage. He was also pretty he-man like so I don't think he would be abstinent.

So basically, they did love each other! I really think the confusion comes from their unromantic engagement. Also, not to be dramatic, but I think George and Mary shared a bit of soul (soulmates), which explains why they were so deeply in love with each other, even though they had a lot going against them (George being very busy, stressful periods like WWI, his moodiness, them not sharing any hobbies, Mary being enigmatic, both of them being argumentative).

Also, another reason people think they didn't love each other might be their oldest son, David. Sadly, David painted a pretty bad picture of KGV by describing his mother as his father's slave. I think it's because he was closer to his mother and liked to blame her not taking his side during the abdication (or throughout the 1930s in general since before that Mary did tend to take David's side occasionally) on his father's control over her.

Here are some other good quotes concerning their marriage:

“Very often I feel in despair,’ George told May, ‘& if it wasn’t for you I should break down.’ When they were apart he felt ‘tired, worried & depressed’.”

“On George’s insistence, the royal couple shared a bed, rather than sleeping in two beds side by side; ‘I certainly prefer one bed,’ George had earlier told May, ‘I thought you did so too.”

“You will find me D.v. [Deo volente – God willing] waiting on the platform of the station, ready to kiss you, you mustn’t be shy. We will have a better kiss when we are alone in the house.” (KGV to his wife)

Excerpts From George V "Never a Dull Moment" by Jane Ridley

#king george v #george v #mary of teck

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lifeasaninfp · 2 years

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Life as an INFP

26 years old

♉☀️♍🌜♊🌡

MBTI: INFP/J

Life path 2

Enneagram 9

Chinese zodiac: the Ox 🐂

Vedic placements: ♉☀️♌🌜♉🌡

💫 I don't have any water placements in my Western astrology natal chart

💫 Dramatic aspects in my chart include: Sun opposite Pluto, and Venus opposite Pluto

💫 I've taken the MBTI test many times and originally got INFP but the last year I've consistently gotten INFJ. I feel more like an FJ but I won't change my username

💫 You can call me Cassie even though that's not my real name

💫 French/British girl living in England

💫 I have two siblings and I'm the eldest

💫 I'm 5'7, have green/blue eyes, and light brown hair

(I've actually changed my hair colour a lot, usually went blonde, then dark red, then platinum blonde, then dark brown, and now my hair has faded back to it's more natural colour)

💫 I'm currently a university student studying Psychology (going into my 3rd year this September)

💫 My dream career is to become a psychologist

💫 Growing up, I used to want to become an actress and author

💫 I only speak English fluently and French at intermediate level (pls don't roll your eyes by the fact that I should be fluent but I only learnt it for a few years growing up, hence the poor level) I want to learn other languages but it's so difficult and I don't have the time. If time, money, effort and difficulty weren't an issue, I'd want to learn Spanish, Italian and Chinese

💫 A town that will always have a special place in my heart is Sanary-sur-Mer, France 🇫🇷

💫 You can call me a crazy cat lady if you wish, I just LOVE cats 🐈 so much! 🥰

💫 I'm not a dog person but if I were to have a pet dog, it would most likely be a Corgi named Cheddar (yes that is absolutely a Brooklyn 99 reference 😂)

💫 I have aphantasia, which is the inability to form mental images/visualise. I only see darkness at the back of my eyelids. I can't comprehend how people can actually see PICTURES in their minds 🤯 this has always made it difficult to play an instrument and dance since I can't play it out and use as a reference 😔

💫 I'm kind of a hoarder because I get attached to things and don't have the heart to throw certain things away 😅

💫 As a child/teenager I used to play the classical guitar, do karate, go to drama classes, do flamenco dancing 💃 and quit all of them! I feel regret for quitting because I could have been so good by now! (Gemini rising you lil' bish! 😭 - "Jack of all trades, master of none")

💫 Growing up, school wasn't my strong suit. I found it difficult and I was also bullied. So to have eventually made it to study at university is a huge accomplishment! I've always had average to poor grades, so eventually I had to make up for it by working hard and improving my grades (by retaking some things later down the line), so this just shows that when you decide you want to do well and put your mind to it, you can achieve success.

💫 This might be due to the Gemini influence in my chart, but I don't fit into one category when it comes to my preferences. I can be super girly but then I can also be quite casual and into dark clothes and music. I don't like to fit into one stereotype, if that makes sense.

💫 I usually don't like change when it's drastic or all of a sudden, for example if a website I'm on for years suddenly changes their layout and rules, it throws me off (the Taurus in me). However, I like change if it's to do with changing my style or moving to another city/country. I can be quite adventurous!

💫 I have always suffered from poor self-esteem. I have never felt good enough, intelligent enough, pretty enough, interesting enough, and competent enough in school and work. It's a real struggle. Thanks Chiron in Libra in the 5th house!

💫 I'm kind of a hopeless romantic, I love love 💘 💕 💗 my type is someone with dark hair and light eyes, tall, intelligent and interesting, funny and sexy 😋

Favourites

Food: paella, lasagna, mussels, shrimps/prawns, sushi, churros, galette des rois (French cake), chocolate cupcakes, birthday cake, my sweet tooth will be the death of me 🤣

Ice-cream 🍦 flavour: vanilla, stracciatella, chocolate with brownie pieces 😋

Drink: coca-cola, chocolate frappucino from Starbucks, sirop de grenadine (most specifically during the summer time), lychee drink (forgot the brand name of the specific type I like), cider

Music: indie/alt rock, classical, dance, Latin-American/Spanish music

Instrument: guitar 🎸, piano 🎹 and saxophone 🎷

Bands: The Neighbourhood, Savages, The Kills, Phantogram, Placebo, The Bravery, Depeche Mode, Nothing But Thieves, holy ghost!, Beach Weather, Interpol, Amber Run, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Welshly Arms, Muse, The Amazons, The Bohicas

Colours: red, blue, yellow, light pink

Numbers: 2, 22, 222

TV shows: The Vampire Diaries, The Originals, Grimm, Hannibal, The Blacklist, Virgin River, Brooklyn 99, True Blood, Supernatural, Teen Wolf, True Detective, Criminal Minds, and a few British shows like Mock the Week

Movies: Persuasion, Pride & Prejudice, The Parent Trap, Twilight Saga (I know they're bad and cringe but I love it anyway!)

YouTube content: ASMR for sleep and relaxation, British comedy clips

ASMR creators: Batala ASMR, FrivolousFox ASMR, ASMR_Divinity, Alana ASMR, SacredXO ASMR, ATMOSPHERE

Hobbies: Zumba fitness/dancing 💃 ♥ classical guitar (used to do it but stopped a few years ago due to moving and school), writing fanfiction, baking, EATING 🙊

Season: autumn 🍂 spring 🌸

Animals: cats 🐈, cheetahs 🐆, crows 🐦, horses 🐎 flamingos 💗, dolphins 🐬

Fashion: classic, pretty, sexy (but in a classy way), mainly Elena Gilbert and Katherine Pierce fashion style from TVD

Books 📚: The Vampire Diaries (they're a guilty pleasure), Graceling trilogy, pretty much anything by author John Grisham, Bitten by Kelley Armstrong, Shatter Me trilogy ✨

Activities: going on walks, going hiking, cycling in nature

Time of the year: Halloween 🎃 and Christmas 🎄

City: York 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🇬🇧

Other things I love

... medieval history, stately homes, daydreaming, writing fiction, romantic hallmark movies, charity shops, southern American accents, reading, documentaries, hiking, cycling, dancing, candles, travelling, nature, wildlife, napping 😴, photography, rain when it's warm outside, psychology, astrology, dark academia aesthetic, cottagecore, train journeys, boat rides, the beach

Controversial opinion: pineapple 🍍 on pizza is the best, hands down

Things I can't stand: liars, thieves, entitled people, hate towards anyone, bullying, injustice

Things that scare me: enclosed spaces (claustrophobia), death (my biggest fear), heights, loud fights/arguments (I hate confrontation of any kind), the deep ocean, space!, rollercoasters 🎢

Phobias: claustrophobia, and any mention of blood, gusts, veins and witnessing in person any blood 🤢🥴💀 it makes me feel weak and sick. I can't stand getting blood tests 😭, drowning

Bucket-list: travel to the USA 🇺🇸, to see some of the Southern States like Luisiana but also to see Oregon for the nature, most European countries 🇪🇺 Fiji 🇫🇯, New Zealand 🇳🇿, Iceland 🇮🇸, Machu Picchu, the Lake District 🇬🇧

What I value most: family ❤, close friendships 💛, honesty

Please don't hesitate to send me a private DM to chat about anything! (within reason) I'm not always the best at replying though, so don't think I'm purposefully ignoring you

{I've taken inspiration for this post from a few blogs for the layout, shout-out to them}

● other blogs I have: @astrologically-me @tvdstelenaforever

#about me #lifeasaninfp #life as an infp #my blog #personal #about me pinned post #facts about me #my favourite things #get to know me #for those that are interested

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frogs-memoirs · 2 years

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Interview: Azazel, the Moon Presence

[image id: azazel is pictured from the waist up, with his hands clasped on top of a cane. his nails look more like black claws. he has whitish-grey hair with bangs, tanned skin, and strange white eyes. he is making eye contact with the ‘camera’. there is intense scarring over both eyes, and a barely-visible scar across his throat. he has pointed ears and several piercings. he is wearing a poofy-sleeved buttoned shirt underneath a matronly looking, sleeveless black dress. he is back lit by a purple background, with a neon-purple rectangle of light overlayed on top of the background.]

hello folks! I finally got the chance to interview Azazel after dinner. It was nice to interview someone without having to focus on keeping the compulsion up, and even nicer to sit down and talk with my brother after so long. He’s about as dramatic as I remember him being before. But way more cryptic. I’m half-convinced he’s being this difficult on purpose. He gave me a good contact to follow up on, and plenty of leads on the rifts around the City. While I’m no stranger to avatar threats, the state of the City is concerning. Azazel implied it’s been split up into different districts, which might make my travel through the City difficult, even without the flooding.

Full transcript of the interview (and a bonus alternate version of the photo) found under the cut.

TRANSCRIPT AS FOLLOWS

F: --aaand now it’s on.

A: Are you sure you don’t want to do this by hand like you usually do?

F: Oh, I’ll still be writing it down! But this is for my blog. The one I told you about.

A: I see. You’re going to share my interview with all of your strange internet friends?

F: Well, yeah. It’s okay, they’ll love you.

F: Alright, I had my list of questions here somewhere…

F: Here they are! Okay. [sound of pages turning] Are you ready to answer my questions as honestly as possible and to share nothing except what you know to be true?

A: You don’t really have to do this pact thing with me every time, do you? F: Sorry bro, it’s in the rules.

A: Fine, yes, I swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth.

F: Don’t be a drama queen, I won’t ask you anything that’ll get you in trouble.

A: I’ll hold you to that.

F: First question. Well, sort of question. Can you please state your name, occupation, and role in the city? Mythos, too, since sleepers won’t be able to find my blog, anyways.

A: My name is Azazel Jeán, and I run the Black Sheep’s Inn in our lovely Downtown. I help maintain most of the remaining shops and cafes in our corner of the Downtown, as many folks find it hard to stay in business with all the flooding. My mythos is the Moon Presence, though I hardly have time to really indulge it lately, what with all the repair work I’ve had to tend to.

F: Can you tell me more about the flooding?

A: Sure. The flooding started about… hmm. Maybe five months ago? It started small, with little earthquakes followed by intense rain. Eventually the rain stopped, er, stopping, and the river overflowed. The Downtown isn’t built to withstand rising waters-- it hasn’t happened in centuries. But the storms haven’t let up, and the earthquakes still roll through and cause the ocean to contribute to the floods too. The entire coast has been swallowed up by the tide, too. Some people swear that the water rises a little further every day. I wouldn’t be surprised.

F: That’s… terrifying. When I hitched a ride to the hotel, I noticed something weird about the waters. The Mist is pretty thick in the areas that are completely submerged. Did a rift cause the flooding?

A: Did?-- Yes. I’m surprised you didn’t see him. A few of my employees refer to him as the ‘Siren’. Some young guy, with a head full of tentacles and a nice singing voice. A lot of people see him walking on the water in the flooded streets.

F: Is he… aggressive?

A: Not that I know of. But, I think he’s been seen with the Phantom. You’ll want to stay away from him. Nasty bastard to tango with.

F: Has anyone ever told you that you say the weirdest shit?

A: Yes actually-- wait, dammit Frog, lay off the compulsion.

F: Oh, fuck, sorry, habit. [clears throat] You mentioned someone called the Phantom? A: Yeah, a bit of a Bogeyman. Haunts the residential zones, but once he singles you out, he’ll follow you into any district. It’s better to respect his space and hope you never attract his attention.

F: That’s so fucking creepy, Azzy, why would you say it like that?

A: Because I know you. You’re going to poke around and you’re probably going to run into him. You shouldn’t.

F: I won’t get into anything over my head, Az. Promise.

A: Uh-huh. Did you have any other questions?

F: Hmm. Is there anyone you know who could tell me more about the Siren? I’d love to get some more information. Maybe a few pictures.

A: I don’t know about the Siren, but I think you should consider asking around about the Dragon. If you’re going to be in the City for long, you’ll have to pass through the Old Quarter, and you’ll need to know the Dragon’s rules.

F: How the hell is this place still standing? It sounds like a nightmare.

A: [short laugh] Don’t ask me. I just run an inn. Here, I’ll give you the number of one of my acquaintances. He’ll be able to tell you about the Dragon.

F: You’re lucky I write all this down. This was way more intel than I thought I’d be getting.

A: You’re the one who asked the questions.

F: Bastard. Thanks so much. I’ll let you get to your evening rituals. I might do a follow-up interview with you later.

A: Just let me know when you need me. Breakfast is at 8. Have a good night, Frog.

F: Goodnight, Azazel. Interview closed.

[image id: same image as before, except the neon purple overlay is now the topmost layer, giving a front-lit effect as opposed to a backlit one.]

#City Of Mist #city of mist oc #ttrpg #ttrpg oc #ttrpg character #dnd #storytelling #worldbuilding #original character #rp blog #frogs memoirs #interview #azazel

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