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mphountitled · 5 months

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𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 𝐄𝐏. 𝐈 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐦𝐚𝐧

❝ 𝘾𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙚𝙚, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣? ❞

Pairings: Park Seonghwa x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Being begrudgingly seduced by the anarchist

Warnings: Language, Enemies to Lovers, Cop!Reader, Revolutionary!Seonghwa, Implied Violence, Crazy Form!Au, Seduction, Smut (+18, minors dni) Corruption Kink, Innocence Kink, Masochism, Humping, Fingering, pet names, Rough Sex, Massive Degradation Kink, Dom!Seonghwa, Sub!Reader, Squirting, Humiliation, Unprotected Sex, Hate Sex

A/n: I might turn this into a series featuring all the Pirates with their own smutty little parts because I cannot help re-watching the Crazy Form mv. It's too good

The very sight of the undulating mosh pit has your stomach rolling with nausea as you enter the dimly lit warehouse. The corrugated walls are illuminated only by various splotches of neon paint, and you suddenly feel the uncanny need to pray as you enter the crowd.

You begin to grow fearful, not onky because this crowd might birth a fresh panic attack, but because you fear for your focus as well.

That you may not be swayed from your mission.

The Intel that led you and your police partner here had been incredibly difficult to come by because every one of their little followers were so terribly loyal.

So naturally, upon receiving a tip off about a show being hosted on the seedier outskirts of town, you had no choice but to attend.

In this unpredictable field of law enforcement, of one thing you are completely certain: There will always be a clear distinction between the good and the bad and they are as bad as they come.

They are common criminals, and there is nothing else to it.

In fact, referring to them as anything but, feels like a gross display of exaltation. Exaltation, which is, evidently, what they are used to.

Disgust is smeared across your face as you and your police partner sieve your way through drunken bodies swaying to the sound of Seonghwa's voice. Although you're shoving roughly past people, all in an attempt to get to the front of the stage, you can not help but marvel at the crowd, undulating to the beat of a bandit.

His face, along with the faces of 7 of his fellow delinquents were smeared across every wanted poster in the city, and yet here he is, raging into a microphone while the crowd cheers his name.

“If I hear ‘Seonghwa’ one more time I fear I might shoot myself in the foot,” you call out, to your partner not far behind, “Keep a tight grip on your weapons, please,” you say, craning your neck back as you palm cradles your back pocket with the Glock 14 nestled inside, “We don't know what any of these idiots are on and I dont think we want to find out.”

Your civilian attire is successful in keeping the attention off of you and your partner as you break out of the heat and anxiety of the moshpit, right in front of center stage.

Seonghwa is right above you, cradling a microphone as if it were the Holy grail while his accomplice, a very inebriated San, bounds across the stage, stirring up the crowd like Seonghwa's personal hypeman.

You could almost feel your vexation increasing to ungodly heights.

Everything about this egregious display of egomania makes your blood boil raging hot, and although these are only 2, you find your hands clenching in anticipation of being one step closer to putting all 8 behind bars.

Your hatred seems to be oozing out of your pores because soon, you catch his attention. Perched on a stage elevated amongst the masses, he is looking at you now. You. Instead of any of the other drunken groupies in the crowd begging to get even a sliver of attention.

With both hands cuffed around the mic, he peers down at you and winks before belting out the final words of the song.

How badly you itched to bind his wrists with your silver cuffs.

How badly you wished to get him and his insolent underlings off the streets.

"They do know how to capture an audience… we can at least give them that," Your head snaps sideways as the words of your partner rouses what little patience you're already working with.

You tap lightly at his badge. The sound of your nail hitting the metal is drowned out by the raucaus applaud but your police partner watches you intently as you cooly say, “Don't forget why we're here, Sergeant,” your voice holds caution as the noise of the crowd trickles down.

The set ends, and the man on stage drenched in flamboyant white linen bids the crowd a ‘Very good night’. He strolls off stage, not without giving you one last, knowing glance.

‘If you catch me, it's because I let you catch me,’ is what those eyes seem to be saying.

So much for blending into an unsuspecting crowd.

“These are not your friends. They're common criminals.” Your voice is louder now, with the absence of that Seonghwa's cacophony. “Stay here, make sure none of these degenerates kill themselves.” You're hellbent om following Seonghwa off the stage, but your partner's light snickers have you pausing slightly. You raise your eyebrows in questioning.

“You speak about them like they're not just fans," Your partner shakes his graying head, "Like they're complicit,”

“They are." You almost immediately reply with a narrowed gaze. "As far as I'm concerned, their fans are just as bad as them.”

With those parting words you make your way towards the part of the warehouse sectioned off from the rest of the crowd, where Seonghwa and his accomplice disappeared off to in the wake of their applause.

You reach what appears to be a backroom hidden behind the makeshift stage. It is far quieter than the rest of the warehouse pulsating with cacophony. You do not miss the slight apprehension that swallows you whole when your feet stop you from venturing over the threshold.

“It doesn't look like you have a backstage pass,” San sits beside Seonghwa on a couch positioned in the focal point of the small room. You recognize hid face as another one of the men whose visage was stamped in a very large police docket on your desk.

“Apologies,” you murmer to San, “I only have one of these,” you raise your police ID to the side of your face and San rises from his seat in mild curiosity. He sinks closer to you while Seonghwa, the man who held most of your attention, sits reclined, with his legs spread on the wide sectional.

He sits lazily, almost kingly under a giant white sheet. A flag plastered to the wall, with a giant, obnoxious, A carelessly spray painted in black.

“I thought we said no fans allowed backstage." San says in a sing-song voice, blatantly ignoring your badge with his giant shoulders now bending down to your height. The circumference of his hat casts a wide shadow over you, all in a clear display of intimidation. "That counts for pigs, too.”

His steely gaze never wavers from your face, and you fight valiantly to keep your emotions tamed under a calm, nonchalant reserve. "If you're a cop, where's your uniform?" San does an obnoxious display of racking his eyes over your body.

"Your dad's place," you whisper cooly, "I couldn't put it on in time."

Your words have an unmistakable smile cracking on the sides of San's face. "I enjoyed that very much."

"I thought a degenerate like you might." Despite your words, San is still smiling. In fact, you fear yourself at risk of slipping right into that enchanting gaze of his were it not for the interception of the third voice in the room.

“How interesting,” Seonghwa's voice cuts through the tension blistering between you and San like a white, hot knife.

“Leave us.” San's head snaps backward towards his accomplice, and all Seonghwa does is smile as they communicate, quite literally without words right in front of you. Seonghwa evidently 'says' what is needed in order to get San slyly leaving room. Not before tipping his hat in parting.

With your attention now focused solely on the man ok the couch, drenched in the white linen, whose arms are outstretched and resting on the headrest, you suddenly find yourself completely and unfortunately unsure.

You had met plenty of prisoners. Dined with manner delinquents and questioned many criminals, it is only in his presence when you feel your usually tough reserve quaking at the smallest fraction. In the face of what is apparently true rebellion.

“Why don't you have a seat,” he snickers when he finds you already stepping over the threshold, making yourself all too comfortable in an evil space. Nothing good existed beyond this point.

“I hope you enjoyed the show,” There is a depth to his voice that is regrettably tickling down the edge of your spine, dousing every bit of pateince you had.

“You call it a show… I call it inciting a riot,” you shrug, finally choosing to sit beside him on the wide sectional. Far too close beside him and his outstretched arms.

Despite the warning bells, you refuse to exhibit any fear.

“Is that why you're here?” His voice remains steady as he focuses it on tracing the tips of his fingers against your shoulder. He wants to see how quickly his touch could elicit a valley of goosebumps.

He is all too pleased to find you shivering in protest.

“You're here to arrest me?” In all honesty, Seonghwa enjoyed watching you try to push him away for the sake of your precious morals. Call it masochism, but there is something enticing about a woman who so very clearly abhors everything he stands for. Seonghwa cannot help but find it almost irresistible. His captain always remarked on Seonghwa's enjoyment for not only fixing broken things but also obsessing over them.

You did not know that the frown plastered across your face only accelerated his racing heart more. Desire plunged through his arteries as he immediately recognized you as a challenge.

Something to perhaps break.

It would be so incredibly satisfying, especially because you represented everything he despised in this wretched world.

Order.

“Actually, no.” You say, staving off another shivsr as you evade Seonghwa’s steadily heavy growing eyelids. “We received a call that someone was disturbing the peace.”

“In an abandoned warehouse?” He asks, voice airy and tone almost dismissive because he is much closer to you now, leaning towards you, as if enchanted by your very scent. You watch him with apprehension as you begin to feel the very first signs of what you regrettably realize to be attraction.

However, you can not move off the couch now because you can not control any of your motor functions in your concrete bones. Every one of your morals howl for you to get away from this man. To cuff him, send him down to the precinct and convict him for... something…

but that 'something' does not come quick enough, and he's leaning closer to you, with both arms still resting on the couch behind you. Before you can blow up your entire career, and close the distance, you wrangle some bit of sense to turn your head sideways, evading his half lidded eyes and slightly parted lips.

Your blatant rejection rouses him slightly, and he readjusts himself in his seat. Seonghwa brings his legs together to better manage the heat rushing to his cock in the wake of your rejection and apparent attraction (and immense frustration) as he shifts even closer beside you.

“You will find no disturbance here,” he says, “Only music.”

His words release the floodgates of your vexation, and your head snaps as you fire off. “Music that you weaponize to spew your delinquency.”

“Ah. Ah.” Seonghwa dips his head down to your ear as he whispers, “Delinquency, or rebellion?”

You're laughing humorlessly into the air, effectively causing Seonghwa’s smile to widen and his cock to stiffen completely in the confies of his pitch black dress pants. You are oblivious to his eyes, watching you as if you hung the very moon.

“You and your… freaks preach your vitriol and call it ‘rebellion’ when all you're actually doing is polluting our city with riots and crime.”

“You don't wish to be liberated from an oppressive world order?” He adjusts himself again, getting far too excited with the way this conversation is flowing. Your wide eyes and high vibrato do little to calm his restlessness.

“What oppression!?”

His voice is quick and monotonous, “Capitalism. Classism. Racism.” His fingers clench and unclench before swiping against the back of your neck, “Why do you willingly submit to a system that is simply un-winnable? We want you to free yourselves from the hierarchy. Fucking wreck the system-”

“You're fucking Pirates,” you spit the word out, unwokowungly snapping the very last of your reserve before Seonghwa is pulling you into a heady, heavy kiss by the nape of your neck.

"Fuck yes," He whispers before pulling you in as if you weighed absolutely nothing and you let him. You let his lips move languidly against yours as your hands fall against his chains and the white linen frills spilling from his collar. His hand is still positioned on the nape of your neck and he squeezes, forcing you to kiss him back. He groans into your mouth when you begin to work with him instead of against him. You mouth falling open as his tongue collides with yours.

Vaguely, in the background, outside these four walls, you can hear the crowd beginning to cheer once again as raucous music spills from unseen speakers. You can hear San beginning to sing into a mic, and your hand on Seonghwa's shirt curls imperceptibly.

“You're so beautiful…” You hate how easily his words affect you. You hate what a slave to desire you seem to be as he leans back to immediately push his hands in between your legs.

“Tell me to stop,” he challenges, keeping his feline eyes trained on you as he unclips the buttons of your jeans with one hand. “Tell me you don't want this disgusting delinquent to make you cum over and over again.”

Your lips are pursed painfully, and you throw your head back with your eyes clenched shut as you lift your hips. All the better for him to wriggle your jeans down to your ankles.

As he brings your legs up to his lap to pull off your jeans completely, Seonghwa's movements become all the more reckless and all the more urgent.

“All the same,” he murmurs before kneeling on the floor in front of you, “You conformists are all the fucking same.” Your eyes flutter open, along with your mouth, and the very moment your gaze locks onto the spray painted flag, hanging above you, Seongwha pushes aside your underwear, immediately spearing your dripping cunt with his long fingers. You release a broken moan into the air and his smile has blossomed into a full-on lopsided, evil grin as he brings your knees up to frame his face.

“2 seconds,” he taunts, in between your chorus of broken moans going head-to-head with the sound of San’s sensational belting, “it took me 2 seconds to have you humping my hand like a pretty fucking slut-”

Despite the pleasure coursing through your body, you still manage to keep your teeth clenched as you murmur, “You're the one… fuck… you're the one kneeling in front of me like my personal whore-”

Seonghwa's eyebrows raise, and his eyes glint in excitement at your taunting. He prided himself on being someone who could take as much as he gave out, and you're doing a terrific job at holding his attention when so many other people fell short.

You were interesting, of that, Seonghwa was sure.

“You make me want you so bad, Dove,” he admits before swiping his other hand over his stiffening bulge to the rhythm of his hand pushing in and out of your cunt.

“You drive me fucking crazy-”

“You're already crazy- fuck, just like that! Please don't stop-” your clenching around his fingers, eyes locked on his wide, excited eyes and his close lipped smile as brings his other hand to swipe over your clit.

The very second his calluses make contact with your swollen, puffy clit, you're cumming around his fingers. San’s vocal rages and your screams pour out as you fight to keep your eyes open. Seonghwa's fingers are still pushing into you relentlessly, and your heart sinks when you realise the seat underneath you is drenched with your arousal.

Seonghwa's mind is flooded with the image of you squirting so shamelessly around his fingers. Seeing you give yourself over to him so seamlessly made him feel absolutely restless with arousal, and he's pushing you down onto the couch before you're able to fill the air with idle protests.

His clothes suddenly feel too constricting and he curses the black corset as he wrestles with the buttons of his collar. He does not care that the buttons are flying onto the floor because he is clambouring onto the couch and hovering over you as he slots his hips in between your open legs.

“I need you to make a mess for me,” he whispers, before pulling his collar open, showcasing a patch of his tanned chest to your wide eyes. You unbuttoned your own shirt at the very same time that Seonghwa pulls down the zip of his pants, and he nearly whines at the sight of your breasts spilling out of your top. You are using him just as much as he is using you.

“Just like that, baby,” He nods, forcing his cock deep inside you as you begin to tweak your own nipples to stave off the discomfort of being stretched open so completely.

“F-Fuck- Seonghwa…” He is still nodding as he bends down towards you. Strands of his black hair tickle your face as he positions his hands on the side of your head and ruts into you with urgency. “I don't think I can take it-”

“You're already taking it so well, Baby.” He coos, as he forces his cock deeper and deeper into your clenching walls.

“You're taking everything I have to give and you're doing it flawlessly,” his praises are like that fashioned from a poet and the sheer artistry behind mere words have your head flying backwards as you release a torrid moan into the air.

“Where are you going?” He asks with a breathless laugh as he brings your head back by the grip of your throat. He is driving his cock inside you, his own frills spilling over your skin as he chokes you relentlessly.

Seonghwa is the very sight of violent beauty: hair mussed with his collar completely undone. His corset is still fashioned around his waist but it succeeds in tightening his abdomen, bringing him closer to the edge as the torrid sounds of your fucking fills the air.

"Fuck I'm close,” He grunts with his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his skull. "Tell me you hate me-" he whispers.

"I hate you," you moan out. "I hate you so fucking much-" It fell from your lips so easily because it is the God honest truth. Despite the spell he currently has you under, in the eyes of your aspirations, and everything you've ever worked hard for, you hated him and people like him. People who threatened to dismantle the progress lawmakers have strived to protect. And so, with your orgasm crwsting and your toes clenching, you whisper those words over and over to him. And every time to tell him you hate him, he chokes you harder and fucks you deeper.

"F-Fuck- 'Hwa I'm-" he nods, eyes now incredibly pained as he drives his cock into you with no chance of stopping.

"Cum for me," His whisper has you reading a broken moan into the air and Seonghwa watches as you descend into the depths of your euphoria.

"Gorgeous-" He exclaims through clenched teeth as his own hips begin to stutter, "You're so fucking gorgeous-" He whimpers before spilling inside you.

You're both moaning into the air, at the very same time that Choi San appears at the threshold.

"You work fast," San says languidly. He shifts his gaze from your horror-stricken gaze to Seonghwa who stares at his accomplice with a smirk on his face.

"I work smarter," Seonghwa says, "not harder." You're very much aware that he is still very much inside of you in front of a complete stranger but that panic dissipates when you realize Seonghwa, himself, is nothing but a stranger...

"The police is not gonna be a problem for us anymore, right?" He asks sweetly before dipping his head down in between the crook of your neck. You are starkly aware that your silence is answer enough...

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez smut #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa smut #seonghwa fanfic #park seonghwa #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa x you #ateez fanfic #park seonghwa smut

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ane-doodles · 5 months

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My COTL References

(you can use them as inspo if you want)

A little more:

Wow, I didn't think this would take so long, but I think it was worth it in the end.

I have had to look for all kinds of references to be able to draw the bishops in a satisfactory way (references from the game itself, from animals, body types, eyes, and even how to draw cat paws). I think I have done them justice.

Although I don't plan to draw a comic or write a fic, I did want to define my own reference when drawing them. That way my little doodles would have some coherence.

A couple of details from the designer (just me commenting):

• I had to look for references of many body types and choose the one I thought was most suitable for each character. It was a long road!! The most difficult to draw was Narinder.

• Heket's outfit is inspired by a dress I recently saw in a store, it looked like a tunic so I decided to use it as a model. I added the veil because I wanted to cover her head (it's difficult to draw), plus I think it gives her a distinctive touch and personality. She accidentally ended up looking like a very flirtatious nun.

• Kallamar's design was particularly difficult because in the game itself he doesn't have a torso! but for reasons of ease and patience here he is going to have one. It's funny that he's super tall, but he keeps hunching over trying to hear what others are saying (you know, he doesn't listen very well for obvious reasons).

• Leshy was my favorite design! He has all the characteristics that I usually give to a protagonist!! He ended up looking like a young boy who surely likes soccer. I drew him thinking that he would surely like to walk around, so he should be comfortable... but he will surely end up crashing on more than one occasion. The green looks so fluffy!!! ah! but I also gave him a sting (I thought it would be fun)

• Shamura was interesting. I didn't want to give it too many legs, but I also didn't want it to look strange. In the end I ended up taking inspiration from different insect characters I know (like the red guy from Adventure Time). His clothes are all torn, I think he would have a hard time adjusting to them and would end up destroying them very often.

• Although I have drawn Narinder before it is not easy without him looking like an anime boy with a cat head! so it took quite a while to try to get out of there, that's why his proportions look more animalistic now!! I like to think that his body was vaguely more human when he was a god, but that when he transforms into a mortal he becomes more animal-like. It was difficult to design his clothes, but I like the change of coat he has...I hope I don't change it again soon or I'll have to make him a wardrobe.

• I have no special notes about the lamb, except that I forgot to put the leg warmers!! I realized it too late, but let's imagine they are there. I liked designing the second fleece, obviously based on Narinder's.

• As you can see, each of the coats are made from the remains of the tunics that the bishops previously wore. I want to imagine that after they were defeated, the lamb recovered them and turned them into new garments so that they would feel more comfortable in the cult (but also so that they would be distinguished from the common people).

• I have planned jobs and positions that each one would occupy in the cult, but I don't know how close they are to canon since I haven't taken the time to research. We'll see!!

And that's it, if you made it this far, have a candy 🍬 , thanks for reading my ramblings.

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl reference #cotl the lamb #cotl the one who waits #cotl narinder #cotl heket #cotl leshy #cotl kallamar #cotl shamura #ane doodles yay!#character design #Chain for a promise AU #CFP au

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blocksgame · 9 months

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Tips on character voices when writing fic

This is written in mind for people writing fic in MCYT/QSMP/DSMP/Life series/etc kind of fandoms. But if anyone finds it useful for anything else, well then, hell yeah.

Character voice is big in all, uh, fiction, and mimicking it in any fanwork is big. But I think it’s especially big in these fandoms where the voices are so distinct – it’s usually how a Real Person Somewhere (the streamer) talks, versus something very scripted that you’d see in a TV show or novel. And it can be a big difference in your character sounding generic versus really feeling true to the original.

Listen to a bunch of your subject talking. If you want to write a character well, watch vods from their point of view, or episodes where they show up a bunch. Take note of what they say and how.

2. If you don’t know how to start doing that: try literally writing down what they say. Transcribe an actual exchange in fic-format. You probably won’t want to publish a literal exchange from canon, but it will give you a sense of how to physically write what they say.

3. If you do this (or just pay attention to how they talk), you will get a lot of: Stumbling, pauses, repeating words, filler words, weird sentence constructions, fragments, etc. I love em! Here’s something that comes through in improv much more than in novels or movies: Most people, even very charismatic people, are not very eloquent when they speak. Writing out conversations or sentences will give you a sense of the unique and delightful way in which your subject is not eloquent. vvvvv way more under cut vvvvv

(People use a LOT of filler/etc when they speak. It’s reasonable to cut back on this if it’s interfering with a nice-looking or readable result. I believe this is the eternal struggle of people who write transcripts – you want the transcript to be accurate, but there are also a lot of things you can obviously simplify and not lose the meaning. So you’ll end up falling somewhere on this spectrum either way. But I do think a lot of mediocre/generic fic dialogue is very stylized – it doesn’t sound like your guy because your guy literally wouldn’t say that. They would say it worse and more confusingly.)

(I’m serious, if you’ve never sat down with a short non-completely-scripted clip or real conversation or whatever and just written out exactly what was said, do it. It will make you better at writing.)

4. Wonda-cat made a really incredible list [link] of characterizing speech patterns for the Dream SMP members. But you can also do your own reconnaissance and come up with your own patterns, common phrases, etc.

5. You do not have to get EVERYTHING right. You’re not going to, like, get so deep into the speaker’s brain that you can produce “exactly what they would have said if they were somehow in your fic.” That is impossible. You’re just trying to evoke a character, and if you get a few turns of phrase to ring true, you’re doing great.

6. A lot of these people are popular because they are hilarious. Include jokes. Yes, even if your thing is angsty or serious. A lot of the most serious lore I can think of from, e.g., the Dream SMP or 3rd Life or the QSMP - the really story-defining, life-and-death moments - were absolutely hysterical. If you’re writing characters who are usually funny, then add some humor. It can heighten angst via contrast and a sense of realism. Ask yourself what a funny streamer would make jokes about if they were possessing a character in this situation.

7. Some people have the mystical ability to “hear” character voices in their head, and read things in their voice. If you can, do this with all of your dialogue during the editing process. This won’t always get you there, but sometimes it can catch things that sound wrong by invoking "that's really hard to imagine them saying". If you don’t have this power, try recruiting a friend who does.

8. So there’s dialogue and then there’s narration that’s still from a character’s point of view. I’ve mostly given you tips about dialogue, but a lot of this is also true for narration. IMO, narration is less about phrasing things the way the subject would, and more about recreating the way they think. I don’t have concrete rules on how to do this, but here is my wisdom:

You can get eloquent again - narration is more of an abstract and artistic process than dialogue.

Spend time with your subject’s source material.

Pay attention to what they notice and care about. How do you think they think?

Don’t be afraid to get weird with it.

That last one also applies to all art ever.

9. MCYT tends to give you a great boon you don’t see in other media: what the speaker says to their chat/audience when nobody else is listening. This can be incredibly characterizing even if you’re writing a story where people don’t have chats. It’s your person talking about their thought processes and feelings! Mine that shit.

10. Some questions that might help guide both characterizing narration and dialogue (that you’d get from dialogue):

How open are they about their feelings?

How often do they lie? What do they lie about?

What kind of metaphors do they use, if any?

How quickly does their mood change?

How can you tell when they’re in different moods?

What kind of things do they pay attention to?

How formal is their speech?

11. Finally, this is a little odd, but I find it’s much, much easier to write a character that sounds good if I, the author, like them and am rooting for them at least a little bit. If a character needs to be there who you don’t love, try to love them. Or at least get a sense of what other people love about them. It just makes everything else easier. I swear to god.

Happy writing out there!

#mcyt fic #fanfiction #writing advice #writing tips #fanfiction tips #qsmp fic #dsmp fic #works for whatever too I'm just not gonna try to tag everything #fanfiction advice

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inhuman-obey-me · 4 months

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The Authoritarianism of "Father's" Celestial Realm (NB Season 2)

OKAY, life got crazy for a while, but we're finally all caught up on Nightbringer's main story, and PHEW we've got some things to talk about. So let's dive right in, starting with one of our favorite topics:

God and the Celestial Realm actually kinda suck in the OM universe!!!

(spoilers up to NB lesson 38!)

Now, this been a consistent pattern for most of OM's story and lore, but we're going to be focusing here mostly on Lessons 37 and 38 in particular this time, because they had a lot to talk about in that regard.

In Lesson 37, we are introduced to the underworld, specifically Cocytus at the very bottom layer of it.

One interesting note, however, is that this region is territory of the Celestial Realm, despite it being geographically in the Devildom, and the Celestial Realm is the one that doles out punishments relating to it -- usually. We'll dive more into that whole conspiracy in another post, but it's certainly an interesting geopolitical fact of the Three Realms.

As for the underworld itself, the idea of multiple layers of hell is a common one which originates from Dante's Inferno, the first section of the Divine Comedy, and we see that Cocytus here is taken pretty directly from that as well. Just like Dante describes in the Divine Comedy, Simeon informs us that there are four regions that make up Cocytus, made up of four concentric circles of growing intensity according to their corresponding offenses. Specifically, each layer of Cocytus is related to a type of betrayal: of family, of homeland, of guests, and finally, as the very worst type of betrayal, of "him".

The design of that is immediately very telling about how the Celestial Realm views these offenses. Other offenses may land a person in the underworld in general, but these specific types of betrayal are the worst. And among those worsts, betraying God is the ultimate offense, absolutely beyond anything else one could ever do.

Now, these levels of Cocytus almost directly match Dante's Inferno take on them -- with one major, interesting distinction. In the Divine Comedy, Judecca is for "traitors to masters and benefactors." In OM, it is traitors to "him." Considering that the rest of the levels are a direct match, this suggests that, in OM, their father is the master who must never be betrayed.

And as Mammon notes, that's exactly what our beloved demon brothers did, with Lucifer in the lead.

That brings us to the present situation, with Lucifer chained and suffering at the very center of the bottom of the underworld. The worst of the worst offenders.

Simeon, Luke, and MC arrive to find Lucifer in a screaming rage, noting that same fact. Lucifer is in such pain and rage that he's creating dangerously massive gusts of wind, and as he worries about MC and then his brothers, it only gets worse. Suddenly, Raphael appears to read Lucifer his charges. And then, we get this conversation:

There's a lot going on there, but to go piece by piece, Luke is obviously distraught upon hearing the brothers' decreed fate. He wants to protest it and argue against it. Simeon stops him because Luke absolutely must not say another word -- as a reminder, arguing against Lilith's punishment was the catalyst for the whole rebellion that ensued, which is the entire reason Lucifer is being punished like this now!

Simeon, however, has recently been demoted. We know he was a seraph at the time of the rebellion; the official Nightbringer website specifies that he was demoted for "covering for" the brothers, though we don't know the specifics of what happened there. Simeon has always been a little daring on speaking truth to power, and considering he's already been demoted, it seems he's willing to take the potential consequence of speaking up again here. So he does, expressing his questions and concerns about the whole situation going on. And, finally, he calls out Raphael on also feeling the same as he and Luke both do.

It is perhaps the most telling moment we've gotten to date of how Raphael has felt about this whole civil war between the angels. In the past, he's been fairly consistently strict about the Celestial Realm's rules, which essentially boil down to always obeying their father, and Michael by extension. And he holds himself to basically the same standards, obediently doing whatever Michael tells him to even as he's disgruntled or frustrated by the myriad requests. But when it comes to seeing Lucifer punished this way, he can't accept it either. It's wrong, and he knows it.

But he can't question decisions that come from on high. Even doubting is considered wrong.

We've heard the same from Lucifer once before -- that he questioned one who was never to be questioned. That is what he has been punished for.

This is the reason Luke must not speak up. This is the reason Raphael is crying. And it's the reason for Lucifer's current punishment. Simeon, Lucifer, and Raphael all know it implicitly -- what comes from on high is absolute. Questioning is unacceptable. Doubts are unacceptable. And rebellion is unacceptable -- the absolute worst thing that someone can do.

Anyway, now throw all that out though, because apparently Lesson 38 wants to attempt to bring us to a completely different conclusion!

Let's be honest here -- OM is a bit jumpy on its writing sometimes, and sometimes makes wild left turns. But we ended Lesson 37 feeling pretty excited because it's revisiting a common theme we've had hinted at throughout both games about what kind of leader their father is and what kind of place the Celestial Realm really is under him. And what we've seen, generally, is this: it is a very strict place, unforgiving of those who step out of line, where their father's word is absolute, and even feeling doubt is a grave offense. We even know that Simeon's greatest fear is their father!

So imagine our shock and disappointment when Lesson 38 suddenly decides that, no, actually, this punishment and everything else is actually God's love for them. What?!

New theory: exactly one person on OM's writing team is actually super religious and keeps trying to make this game about dating demons into a message that God is good. These lessons were not written by the same person.

Lesson 38 starts with a rather chaotic scene -- Lucifer has broken free of his chains and is lashing out in rage and despair, not thinking straight. Diavolo makes his appearance and tries to subdue Lucifer, though the two end up going into an all-out brawl as Lucifer lashes out at Diavolo as well. MC eventually intervenes and the brothers show up to protect MC from both Lucifer's and Diavolo's attacks. Lucifer is taken aback seeing that his brothers are all okay and present in front of him, and as MC approaches him to further calm him down, the Ring of Light glows and Lucifer momentarily transforms into his angel form, inspiring awe from everyone around at the sight of the Morning Star once more.

Earlier, Lucifer was begging to be shown some kind of sign from his father, of what it was that he wanted from him. Simeon comments that this might be Father answering that call for a sign -- a sign of his love. Lucifer seems to accept this, though with some bewilderment. But we have Lucifer straight up tell MC later in the lesson that he "must have forgotten" that Father loved them all along! That all he ever did was give, and never ask for anything in return!

Except for blind, unwavering loyalty. Something that Lucifer has actually forgotten about in this moment.

For that matter, why does Simeon automatically assume it's this grand sign of their father's love?! He himself just stated his own doubts and called Raphael out on his.

It's a huge 180 that gave us some intense whiplash for sure. But this isn't the first time we've seen that more religious trauma view from Simeon; we've seen it before in OG season 4, where he has obviously been deeply affected by being demoted out of being an angel altogether but tries to reassure himself that their father does everything for a reason, "even this."

However, even aside from the very sudden turnaround, this explanation leaves a lot to be desired, because it doesn't actually answer anything!!!

We just got told that Raphael was crying from the cognitive dissonance of obeying orders to read the charges against Lucifer while feeling deep down in his heart of hearts that this is wrong. Luke has been stopped from saying anything that could be construed as going against their father! Even harboring doubts is wrong, but somehow we are supposed to suddenly believe that it's because their father loves them?

If that's God's love, it's sure sounding like God is an abusive helicopter parent, because that's not a healthy loving relationship.

Think about it -- this is a scene of punishment. Lucifer isn't just chilling down here for fun; he is actively in pain when we find him, and it only escalates his torment at the thought that his brothers are being punished similarly. And even as we are told that Little D. No. 1 couldn't take material form because their father "just loved them so much," is it really a healthy form of so-called love to hold on to a piece of Lucifer's soul without his knowledge, even after casting him out?! We wouldn't say that a parent who throws their own child out to be homeless while keeping their old room intact is a good, loving parent; why should we think this is any different?

Plus, this is the case for Lucifer -- but what about the other brothers? Though they all managed to get free, Cocytus itself seemed prepared to punish each of them for their various transgressions, and as Mammon points out, all of them were guilty of treason against their father. Yet, it's only Lucifer whose Little D. was never able to take form. It is Lucifer specifically who is targeted for this Cocytus punishment, and the others would likely have been left alone if not for the fact that they came to save him. Lucifer is the one who, for that one moment, regains his angel form.

And what does this mean, if this is God letting go of the last of his grip on Lucifer? That he still loved his favorite son but is casting him away for real now? We know Lucifer has said that God would never forgive him in particular, and though he's been accused of just being stubborn himself (and make no mistake, Lucifer certainly is also stubborn too), it does seem in line with everything else we've been shown about their father. Does this mean that their father no longer loves Lucifer, from this specific point onwards?

And, if their father loves them so much -- then why did they need to rebel for Lilith's sake? The implication here is truly bizarre: their father was going to obliterate Lilith entirely from all existence so that not even her soul would remain, but he also just loves Lucifer so much, but is also so authoritarian that Lucifer trying to talk it out with him was met with a complete shutdown so that Lucifer felt he had no other choice but to start the war. Of course, conveniently, this lesson also just chooses to completely disregard the whole Lilith thing, both her existence at all alongside the brothers before the war and her punishment, so apparently none of that matters!

It's completely out of line with the rest of everything we've ever really been told about the Celestial Realm, and frankly, we don't like or accept it. This so-called love that's suddenly used as the explanation in Lesson 38 isn't a true or healthy kind of love, and we don't want it.

So in conclusion: God is gaslighting us but he really does totally actually suck. We're just supposed to suddenly believe now, out of nowhere, that he doesn't. But he definitely, really does.

Anyway so, Lesson 37 is 10/10 and 38 is -10/10, would not read again. Merry Crisis!

#is this too spicy to post on xmas? sorry not sorry #enjoy yet another long essay from us #obey me #obey me!#obey me swd #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nightbringer spoilers #omnb #obey me analysis #obey me lucifer #obey me celestial realm #obey me raphael #obey me simeon #always ready to fight god #obey me nb lesson 37 #obey me nb lesson 38

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the-habitat-sysblog · 1 month

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DID ALTER EXPLAINS: TYPES OF CDDs

so, what are CDDs? complex dissociative disorders are dissociative disorders that occur with the presence of "alternate self states" - alters. this includes DID, OSDD1, P-DID & some presentations of UDD. in this post, i will cover quick overviews regarding the key differences between these complex dissociative disorders.

DID - DISSOCIATIVE IDENTITY DISORDER

likely the most well-known complex dissociative disorder, DID is classified by:

the existence of two or more distinct identity states (as said before, i will be referring to these as "alters") accompanied by changes in behaviour, memory & thinking.

dissociative amnesia, which includes both partial & complete episodes of memory loss.

DPDR that affects daily life & functioning.

the symptoms must not be caused by substance use or another medical condition, & must not be part of normal cultural or religious practices.

this is a summary of the diagnostic criteria for DID¹, however there may be many other features present as well. common phenomena include: alters taking control of the patient's body in turns, the existence of an "internal world", as well as comorbid C-PTSD symptoms (flashbacks, hypervigilance, etc).

NOTE: DID with polyfragmentation (sometimes called complex DID) will be discussed in a later post.

OSDD1 - OTHERWISE SPECIFIED DISSOCIATIVE DISORDER (TYPE 1)

OSDD1 as a diagnosis - previously called DDNOS (dissociative disorder not otherwise specified) - is given to patients who nearly fit the diagnostic criteria for DID, however they lack one of the criteria needed to make a DID diagnosis.

OSDD1, therefore, is a spectrum of experiences².

in the online CDD community, you may hear talk of two OSDD1 subtypes: OSDD1-a & OSDD1-b. these are community terms that describe two of the most common OSDD1 presentations. take note, not all OSDD1 cases will fit neatly into either of these subtypes, but many still find these labels important when describing their experiences. here is a short overview:

OSDD1-a: the lacking criterion comes in where i mentioned "distinct identity states". in OSDD1-a patients, their alters are separated by the amnesia barriers present in DID, however the individual alters are often very similar in identity. these alters tend to seem more like "modes" of the same person, rather than distinct individuals. an example would be a patient named sarah, whose alters could perhaps be describes as "angry sarah", "childlike sarah" & "happy sarah".

OSDD1-b: the lacking criterion here is the presence of amnesia. those with OSDD1-b do not experience dissociative amnesia.

P-DID - PARTIAL DISSOCIATIVE IDENTITY DISORDER

P-DID is quite different compared to other complex dissociative disorders in terms of how it presents! the disorder is (typically) classified as such:

there are no episodes of amnesia.

one identity state exists as the "dominant" consciousness.

the dominant identity is intruded upon by 1 or more non-dominant self states, who do not recurrently take full control of the patient's consciousness & body (however episodes thereof may occur occasionally).

P-DID³ is under-researched compared to DID & even OSDD1.

UDD - UNSPECIFIED DISSOCIATIVE DISORDER

the diagnosis of UDD is given to those whose symptoms do not neatly fit into the criteria of another dissociative disorder⁴, including complex dissociative disorders.

as such, those with UDD may or may not note the presence of alters. it will all depend on the individual experience of patients with UDD.

this diagnosis may also be made in emergencies, or when a clinician is not able to gather enough information to diagnose a more specified CDD/DD.

these are all of the recognised types of complex dissociative disorders!

i hope i was able to set out this information in a manner that makes sense to those both within the online CDD community, & those new to it. thank you for taking this time to educate yourself on these dissociative disorders! if you have any questions, my askbox is open.

POST AUTHOR: finn🍄 (he/it) | dazey🐛 (they/she)

SOURCES: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

DISCLAIMER: this post - alongside any other posts from @the-habitat-sysblog - is not a substitute for professional medical help. the DID ALTER EXPLAINS series is written with reference to the medical research of others, CDD community input & the author's personal experience.

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victoria-writes · 2 months

Text

Elvish For Dummies

Pairing: Legolas x Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: Set after the events of LoTR. You live with Legolas in Mirkwood and he teaches you Elvish. Pure fluff.

Word Count: 1039

Notes: Established relationship, reader is human, tried to make the sindarin elvish as accurate as possible so apologies for any mistakes, I’m multilingual so I based this off of my own experience with learning languages

Read it on AO3 here

Story:

Despite the fellowship having disbanded, each day with Legolas seemed like another adventure. During your perilous journey together, the two of you had grown closer than either of you thought possible. The mere thought of being apart from you pulled at his heartstrings. He could not bear the thought of being separated from his new love. After the one ring was destroyed, the elf invited you to come with him to Mirkwood. Hastily, you agreed, for you too could not wait to start a new life with the elven prince.

Since reaching Mirkwood, many seasons have passed and you two grow closer by the day. Under his guidance, your archery skills and ability to speak Elvish have improved. He took it upon himself to privately tutor you in the tongue of his people. Legolas still giggles when you fumble certain words on your tongue, but is quick to apologize, never wanting to discourage you. He says you have made remarkable progress and that you possess great linguistic potential. Whether that is true or he is exaggerating with sugar coated words, you cannot tell but it feels good to hear his encouragement either way.

Most of your days together included walks through the woods and riding horseback, but today was a gloomy rainy day. A day that, Legolas decided, would be a wonderful excuse to help you get back to your studies. It’s not that you did not enjoy Elvish. Oh no! You quite liked hearing him whisper loving words to you as he held your gaze.

“Meleth nîn, Im tur feel cín emel dring dan sab - My love, I can feel your heartbeat against mine”, he would say as he held you in his arms, his breath dancing upon your skin with each syllable.

Saying you enjoyed that would be the understatement of the century. Everything in Sindarin sounded like poetry. Even the most mundane sentences were said with purpose and flowered language. Unfortunately for you, that also meant the most basic phrases you had to learn weren’t your typical ones. Instead of “I went to the store”, you had to say “I depart to look for food - Im gwann- na thír an aes”. It seems that most Elvish children learn how to say things like “I can feel it in the earth - Im tur- feel ha in i coe” before they learn “please” and “thank you”. No wonder they all sound prophetic when they speak common. Creepy oracle sounding sentence structure as your first language combined with being thousands of years old will do that.

“Meleth nîn, you’re drifting off. Shall we return to our lesson or is a break needed?”, Legolas' words break you out of your trance. You look up from your desk, covered in notes, to see him towering above you, eyebrow raised and arms crossed.

“Apologies, I was merely pondering the linguistic differences between Sindarin and Quenya Elvish”, you quickly come up with the excuse to hide the fact that you were simply not paying attention.

“Is that so?”,

“Yes, yes, the distinction between Elvish languages is very interesting to me”.

“This is the third time this lesson you’ve been distracted by those differences”.

“Ah, well…”, you trail off, caught red-handed.

“Y/N, I will not force you to learn Sindarin if you do not wish it”.

“No, no, no, I want to learn. I promise. It’s all just new to me and takes a moment to sink in. Please, repeat what you said. I’m paying attention”.

Legolas smiles but does not repeat himself. Instead, he moves on to an exercise he is sure will get your attention.

“We shall review what I have taught you thus far.”

…

“ Very good, Y/N. Now how would you say ‘the stars shine white’?”

“ I elena mír thilivern”

“The grass is green?”

“I thár na- calen”

“Very good pronunciation. You have done well. I believe it is time to learn some new vocabulary”.

You take out a new sheet of paper from your stack, ready to write.

“You need not write for this portion. Repeat after me.”

“Okay”. You put your quill down.

“Meleth nîn.”

“Meleth nîn. I know what that means already. You say it all the time”.

“And what does it mean?”

“My love”, your lips turn upward in a shy smile.

“Very good. Let us move on then”, he smiles brightly, as if pleasantly surprised despite knowingly fully well that you knew its meaning.

“I’m ready. Hit me.”

He suddenly sits down next to you and takes your hands into his own.

“Im mel cin”

“Do you know its meaning?”

“No, should I? I’m sorry.”, your eyes widen as you try to recall whether he had said it before in a previous lesson.

Legolas throws his head back with laughter. This may be the hardest you’ve ever seen him laugh before… and it’s at you. Great.

“Apologies. Apologies.”, he manages to get out between giggles, “The look on your face was priceless.” Your face sours at this and Legolas manages to resist a second burst of laughter from it. He thinks you equal parts hilarious and adorable.

“You would not have known this phrase as I have never spoken it to you before. I do think it is high time for you to learn it”.

“Okay, so what does it mean?”, you scrunch your eyebrows together, ego still a little hurt from being laughed at.

His grip on your hands tighten but his touch stays gentle as ever. He has always been gentle with you. His gaze holds the same softness. No, even deeper. The blue of his eyes seem more vibrant and invite you in to look deeper within him. His eyes tell of a love that can never be truly explained in any language. Legolas has always had a staring problem when it comes to you, but this is something different entirely. Your cheeks redden at his seriousness.

“I love you”.

Your eyes widen once more and before you can react, he kisses you. Deeply. Passionately.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” he repeats again and again into your lips.

…

Maybe learning a new language isn’t so bad, if you have the right teacher.

#legolas/reader #legolas x reader #lotr #legolas greenleaf #legolas #lord of the rings #legolas x yn #lotr x reader #legolas x y/n

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daizymax · 1 year

Text

good to me | lmh (m)

summary: maybe agreeing to play a drinking game with friends while harboring a secret isn’t the best idea, but minho is tired of keeping the shift in your relationship a secret, anyway.

pairing: lee know x fem reader

genre: smut

word count: 7.2k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: profanity; established “friends with benefits” relationship; alcohol consumption during a drinking game; graphic sexual content; public sex; oral (m and f receiving); cum eating; dirty talk; breast play & nipple play; penetrative sex; creampie

author’s note: minho is a menace. hope you enjoy!

( click here to read on AO3 instead )

---

“Ow, fuck!”

The backseat of your car is too cramped, but that’s nothing new. And neither is Minho telling you so.

He chuckles your name as you finally perch yourself on his lap. “Let’s just go back to my place,” he suggests. “There’s plenty of room in my bed.”

“Hyunjin is there,” you whisper plainly, as though that settles the matter.

Minho squeezes your hips and shrugs. “So? I don’t want to keep sneaking around like this anyway.”

“Well, I do.” There is a distinct note of finality in your tone, but you know this is far from the last of the conversation.

You and Minho have been fucking for weeks and friends for years, but you’re not quite ready to make the former fact common knowledge amongst the rest of your friend group just yet. Some will be shocked, some will be annoyingly smug, and none of them will be quiet about it. The novelty of the situation would probably only last a few days before things settled down again, but you’re just not prepared to deal with all the attention yet. Best to keep things quiet for now.

That still doesn’t change how you feel about Minho, though. You adore him, and right now, you feel like you’ll burst if you wait any longer to touch him.

Without further worries, you reach down to open his pants and pull his cock out. He’s hard, but he’s not dripping yet, and you’re more than ready to work on that. Sliding to the side to kneel next to him on your backseat, you bend down and wrap your lips around his tip.

Minho sighs in instant pleasure and rests an arm across your upper back, relaxed and content as can be, but also very appreciative, if you’re interpreting the tickling of his fingers on your shoulder correctly.

“You’re so good to me,” he says, and there’s a hint of reverence in his soft-spoken voice.

You can’t exactly look up and smile at him while you’re face down in his lap with a mouth full of cock, but you suction your lips tighter around his cockhead to give him a couple strong sucks and further prove his point. He gasps and then groans when you let him go just as quickly as you engulfed him with one last loud suck.

Tilting your head to the side, you lick a bit of excess spit from the corner of your mouth, then lick your way down his warm length; it leaps against your tongue, and you can’t help but giggle at how responsive he is to your touch. He squeezes your shoulder when you gulp half his dick back into your mouth in one swoop, and you hear his head fall against the seat when you work up a quick pace with your mouth and tongue focused around those few inches. You twist your hand around his base and tilt your head the other way to dig his swollen tip into the inside of your cheek just to enjoy the way it feels.

“Jesus,” Minho breathes when you pull off again. His cock is glistening even in the dim lighting at the edge of this empty parking lot.

Jerking him slowly, you ask, “Want to come like this?”

“What, in your mouth? Always.” He takes your chin in his fingers and gets you to look at him before you can put your mouth back to work on him. “Hey, I want you to come, too, though. I know you like sucking my cock, but I doubt you can come from it.”

You grin and roll your eyes. “No, but I’m not worried about me tonight. Just want to make you feel good.”

He pouts. “Well that’s hardly fair.”

“It’s okay,” you promise. “There’s always next time, when we’re not cramped in my car.”

“And whose idea was that?” he mentions.

“Do you want to come or not?”

Minho pulls you in for a kiss, chaste at first, then deepening to roll his tongue against yours. When he finally pulls away for air, his voice has a new rasp to it: “Do whatever you want with me.”

Fuck. When he talks like that, it makes you want to edge him until he prays your name and begs to come. Either that or climb in his lap and bounce on his cock until the windows are foggy and he can’t take the overstimulation anymore. But you don’t have the energy for all that right now, and you know you can make him see stars without using your pussy, so you get back to it.

To your delight, his cock is still rock hard when you run your tongue along it again. The flared head leaks a dribble of precum that you’re happy to lap up just before you swallow as much of his length as you can comfortably fit in your mouth.

“God, fuck,” Minho grunts when he hits the back of your throat. “Your mouth is too good, baby, I’m not gonna last.”

The pace you build up now is not meant to tease him anymore, but finish him. His panting and soft moaning tells you it won’t take long, just as he warned.

With his head fallen against the seat again, he rests a hand on the back of your head and tightens his fingers against your scalp just enough to let you know how much he’s enjoying himself.

He licks his lips and swallows hard. “Shit, Y/N. Just like that. Fuck!”

You swirl your tongue as best you can in between your rapid bobbing. The tip of him is hitting the back of your throat often because you’re quickly becoming addicted to the sensation and you can’t seem to stuff your mouth full enough.

When you get greedy enough to try to swallow him further down your throat, you gag, and Minho flinches at the sound.

“Easy, baby, easy,” he pants, but you’re too engrossed in his pleasure.

After a deep breath, you’re more prepared for the next time he breaches your throat, but Minho isn’t. He’s not prepared for how fucking good it feels when your throat flexes around his cockhead as you swallow around it, or how quickly his orgasm rushes through him after that.

“Holy shit, Y/N, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, gonna come so f-fucking hard- shit-shit-shit-hnnngh!”

He grunts loudly as the first shot of cum bursts from his slit and straight into your throat. You retract him back to the tip of your tongue so he can flood your mouth and you can swallow his cum in your own time instead.

Minho trembles through the force of his orgasm as he ejaculates shot after shot onto your waiting tongue, coating its surface entirely white. A little bit oozes over the corners of your lips, but you don’t dare move yet; not until he’s pumped out every last drop.

After you give him a few last strokes to get the last bit of cum out, you scramble up to look at his face. He looks even more gorgeous than usual when he’s all fucked-out, sweat dotting his forehead and hairline. He’s still panting when he gets a look at the gooey load on display in your open mouth.

“Fucking hell,” he whispers, reaching out to get the bits dripping out of the side of your mouth with his thumb. Instead of popping it into your mouth with the rest of his orgasm like you suspect he would, he quickly licks it off his thumb himself, and you ignore the way your pussy clenches at the erotic scene.

It takes a couple swallows, but you get the rest of his cum down and giggle as you reopen your mouth to show him it’s all gone.

“You’re fucking amazing, Y/N,” Minho marvels, pulling you in for another passionate kiss. “So fucking hot.” He tilts your head so he can kiss your forehead next. “So fucking good to me.”

---

Thumping music can be heard through the front door. Minho leans forward to knock on it, his other hand on the small of your back. You give him a look that says to behave - you two aren’t dating, and your friends still don’t know that you’ve been hooking up.

Your best friend winks and lets you go just before the door swings open.

“Hey guys, come on in!” greets Chan, shouting over all the noise inside. He gives you a one-armed hug and claps Minho’s hand as you each pass him, then goes to grab some drinks for you both. You love when Chan hosts parties - he’s by far the most gracious host in your friend group, plus he’s the only one with a house rather than an apartment.

Looking around, you realize you don’t know a lot of the people here tonight, but as you and Minho mosey into the living room, you eventually find a couple familiar men talking and laughing together.

“Oh my god, there you guys are!” Felix shouts the moment he spots you two. He slings an arm over each of you before kissing you each on the cheek, obviously quite tipsy already.

Changbin gives you and Minho the same hug and hand-clap that Chan did and explains, “Lix has had a hard week, so we’re in for a lot of drinking tonight.”

“Aw.” You sidle closer to the freckled man and nudge his arm. “I’m sorry, Felix. What happened?”

Felix grunts. “Just work shit. I don’t even want to talk about it right now, honestly.” He cranes his neck to look toward the kitchen, and when he spots what - or who - he’s looking for, his face falls. “Oh, what the fuck. I thought Chan was bringing back shots, not beers.”

The rest of you look to see that Chan is indeed carrying a whole tray of beers your way - five in total.

“What’s all this about?” you ask him when he arrives with the drinks plus accompanying bottle opener.

Chan sets the tray on his coffee table and says, “Hyunjin’s idea. He said he wanted to play a drinking game as soon as you and Min got here.”

You count the bottles again to make sure you got the number correct, but Minho beats you to the punch.

“What, you’re not joining us?” Minho says.

Chan shakes his head, already walking away to disappear into the crowd. “Nah, maybe later.”

The volume of the music decreases by a small margin a second later, and you figure that was Chan’s doing, too.

“Well, where’s-?” Changbin starts to ask, but Hyunjin makes his grand entrance by suddenly vaulting over the back of Chan’s couch and landing right in the center. Felix chuckles at the smooth move, but Changbin rolls his eyes.

“Took you two long enough,” Hyunjin comments with pointed stares at you and Minho. “We’re not keeping you guys from something more important, are we?”

Fuck. He knows you’re fucking Minho. He has to know. Why else would that twinkle be in his eye?

But even if he does know, you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of caving and confessing right now. You’ll do it later, on your own terms, when you’re ready.

So for now, you roll your eyes and scoff, “Says the guy who was almost two hours late for Felix’s promotion dinner.”

Felix sits beside Hyunjin and starts to say something but is promptly interrupted.

“Right, so anyway!” Hyunjin continues loudly. “Do you guys want to play I’ve Never or Truth or Dare?”

From your peripheral vision, you can tell Minho just glanced at you, but you refuse to give him the same nervous look. It’s not hard to tell where this is going. The first chance Hyunjin gets, he’s going to try to get one of you to spill the tea about where Minho has been sneaking off to on random week nights lately.

“You mean Never Have I Ever?” Changbin asks.

Hyunjin throws his hands up. “Yeah, that, whatever. ‘I’ve Never’ is easier to say.”

“Let’s do I’ve Never,” Felix chooses, tucking his feet under himself to get more comfortable on the couch. “We just drink if we’ve done the thing the person says they haven’t, right?”

Hyunjin nods.

Well, you don’t want to step out and ruin the fun, especially if this is something that might make Felix feel better tonight, so you settle yourself cross-legged on the floor. Changbin sits beside you, and Minho takes the spot on Hyunjin’s other side, across the coffee table from you.

The five of you grab your bottles and pass the bottle opener around the circle. When you’re all ready, it surprises you that Hyunjin doesn’t demand to go first - he asks Felix to go.

“Alright,” Felix starts. “Um, I’ve never spent more than a hundred dollars on a shirt.” Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate to take a swig, to which Felix rolls his eyes and mutters, “Of course you have.”

Hyunjin goes next, thinking for a moment before saying, “I’ve never accidentally sexted the wrong person.”

Not what you expected him to say, but that’s another round of not drinking for you. Felix and Changbin both take a drink, however, and they laugh about how awkward their experiences were. When Hyunjin’s nosy nature compels him to ask who they accidentally sexted, they both answer with a very immature but impressively synchronized, “Your mom,” which throws them into a bigger fit of laughter. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and nudges Minho.

“Uh, let’s see…” Minho thinks. Inevitably, his eyes land on you. “I’ve never lied to impress someone,” he says.

You purse your lips to keep from smiling at him, but it’s good information to know.

While you’re trying to avoid meeting Minho’s eyes for too long, you almost miss Hyunjin teasing Changbin for taking another drink.

“What did you lie about, how much you can bench press?”

Changbin puts his fist over his mouth and coughs, and you’re the only one who can make out the words “my car”.

“What’d he say?” Hyunjin asks you, but you just shake your head and giggle.

“My turn, then?” you ask, and the group nods. “Okay. Umm… I’ve never used a cheesy pickup line on someone.”

Changbin scoffs, “I think we’d have to make Jisung chug a six pack for that one,” and you laugh along with everyone else at the expense of your absent friend.

Wherever he is tonight, Jisung is missing out on his favorite pastime: drinking games with friends and the opportunity to flirt with everyone in the room. He and Hyunjin together make quite the obnoxious pair, though, so it’s kind of a relief that Jisung isn’t here tonight, if you’re being honest.

“Okay, you’re next, Changbin,” Hyunjin directs.

It takes him a little while, but eventually Changbin says, “I’ve never slept with any of my friends.”

What. The fuck.

Felix’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, your heart leaps into your throat, and Hyunjin practically vibrates in his seat.

“No, what kind of turn is that?” Felix complains. “I thought the point of the game was to try to make people drink, not give them free passes. We’re back to me already and Y/N hasn’t drank once! Neither has Min!”

It’s Changbin’s turn to throw his hands up. “Well I don’t fucking know! It just came to mind first. Besides, I already know you're getting cut off early tonight, so you’re welcome for the free pass.”

He starts to tell Felix to go on ahead with his turn already, but Minho brings his bottle up and gulps back a long swig.

You raise an eyebrow at him, then your own beer bottle, as if to say, Cheers, baby, we’ve been busted. So much for that conversation you were planning to have with him. So much for breaking the news to everyone on your own terms.

The circle is quiet for a second, then two…

…then Felix’s jaw falls wide open, Changbin starts choking on nothing, and Hyunjin jumps up to shriek, “I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

“Hwang Hyunjin, sit the fuck down!” Chan’s voice booms from somewhere in the distance. Even the most gracious of hosts has their limits, and Hyunjin evidently just crossed the line by jumping on the couch.

At the same time, Felix looks like his brain is short-circuiting as he points back and forth between you and Minho. “Did you two hook up? With each other? When?”

Minho hasn’t stopped looking at your face since he took that damning sip, but he looks down at the floor now, and you take it as a sign that he’s putting the rest in your hands, leaving it up to you if you want to elaborate or not.

“Yeah,” you begin, looking to Felix. “Almost two months ago, I think? And… as recently as Thursday.”

Hyunjin giggles maniacally and Changbin scoots over to kick his shin.

“Thursday, like, two days ago Thursday?” Felix presses.

Minho looks back up at you with a neutral expression and takes another sip of his beer because why not, it’s clear the game is over.

Looking straight back at him, you answer Felix, “Yeah, like two days ago.”

Changbin raises his eyebrows as if impressed, and Felix falls victim to Hyunjin’s sudden need to squeeze something to cope with his feelings over the news. He rocks Felix back and forth and laughs as though this were the greatest thing that could happen tonight.

“I knew it,” Hyunjin repeats, turning to trap Minho in his embrace next. “I knew that sounded like Y/N in your room last week, man.”

You and Minho speak up at the same time:

“Well that’s mortifying.”

“Wait, you were home?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t hear any sexy fun-time noises,” Hyunjin placates, hand over his heart. “I came home, heard you both talking in Minho’s room, then I hid in my room before you went to leave, Y/N.”

Changbin cuts in, “Wait, if you only heard them talking, then what made you think they were hooking up?”

“Easy. I found a used condom in the bathroom trash the next morning,” Hyunjin explains, simple as that.

Minho groans in pure annoyance because you’ve asked him a thousand times by now why he doesn’t have one measly little trash can in his room, and you can only giggle because this whole time you thought you were both successful in being secretive, only for Hyunjin to crack the case so easily.

Hyunjin pinches Minho’s cheek and continues, “Is anyone really surprised, though? You and Y/N…” He pauses for a dramatic, dreamy sigh. “It was bound to happen eventually.”

“Can’t believe you guys wouldn’t tell us, though,” Felix says, pouting hard.

“I’m sorry, Lix,” you apologize. “Minho wanted to, but I just… I don’t know. I wasn’t ready yet.”

Changbin nods and pats your knee. “It’s probably not easy to find the right time for something like that." He looks between you and Minho. "Uh, I’m sorry I kind of… made you tell us. You didn’t have to, if you weren’t ready.”

“No, it’s okay, Bin,” you say, offering him a smile. “I’m sure Hyunjin was getting around to it, anyway.”

“Me?” Hyunjin squeaks, offended. “Fuck no. I wanted to see how long you guys would squirm before one of you couldn’t handle keeping the secret anymore. Holy shit, wait until Ji finds out, he’s gonna lose his shit!”

Again, it's a relief Jisung isn't here tonight with his greatest partner-in-crime.

---

As you exit Chan’s bathroom, you bump into Minho at the front of the line. But instead of going in, he steps out of line and ushers you to the side with him.

“Hey,” he says. “What are you up for next?”

You’ve danced with him, joked around some more with him, Changbin, Felix, and Hyunjin, and played beer pong with Chan and a couple of his new friends. You’re ready to call it a night.

“I think I’m ready to go,” you admit.

“Everything okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, I’m good. The party’s just winding down, and Hyunjin also keeps wagging his eyebrows at me whenever he sees us talking to each other, so I think I’ve had enough for one night.”

Minho laughs. “Yeah, he’s being super annoying, isn’t he.”

“I mean, this is exactly how I thought he’d be when he found out,” you sigh.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Minho wraps his arms around you and draws you close. “Sorry I did this to you. I shouldn’t have played along, I could’ve just not drank.”

You shake your head, and it rubs against him. “It’s okay, really. Not exactly the way I wanted everyone to find out, but they were going to eventually, so it’s fine. I’m fine with it. By Monday, the ‘novelty’ of us hooking up will probably have worn off already, anyway.”

He pulls back and tickles your chin. “Well I, for one, hope it never wears off.”

You smile into the kiss he plants on your lips, and you can feel him smile back. When he pulls away again, you both start to speak, and Minho urges you to go first.

Clearing your throat, you say, “I wanted to ask you something.”

He brushes his knuckles across your cheek gently. “Sure. Anything.”

You don’t think you’ve ever been nervous with him like this, but you manage to voice your question: “Do you think we could go out on a date next weekend? Like, a real date?”

His hand pauses for a split second, then drops down to hold your waist. “Yeah, of course. Did you have anything specific in mind?”

“Dinner on Friday night?” you suggest.

He smiles and nods. “Sounds perfect.”

You beam, your heart feeling light and fluttery all of a sudden. “Awesome. Were you about to ask me something, too?”

“Yeah, um. Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?” Minho asks. His voice is quiet, as always, but the words are clear.

“A label sounds so official,” you tease, smile twisting into a smirk.

He shrugs. “Well, I could always call you ‘this-beautiful-girl-I-go-out-with-who-supports-and-fucks-me-a-lot’. What do you think of that one?”

Giggling, you take his face in your hands and press another kiss on his lips. “I like ‘girlfriend.’ Does that mean you’ll be my boyfriend?”

“Either that or ‘that-hot-guy-I-support-who-gives-amazing-head’. In fact, I think I prefer that one, thank you very much.”

“Ooh, okay.” You kiss him again, still giggling. “My new boyfriend is super cocky. Good thing he has the skill to back it up.”

Minho smirks and tongues the inside of his cheek. “If you want to head back to my place, I’ll spend all night proving I’m worthy of that title.”

The next kiss is a lot hungrier. His tongue tastes of beer, and you’re sure yours does, too. You almost forget about his offer as you get caught up in the way you’re ravishing each other’s lips and shamelessly groping each other’s asses in Chan’s hallway.

Luckily, you always have Hwang Hyunjin around to ruin moments and bring people back to their senses.

“Oh my god, we know you guys are fucking!” he wails, clapping a hand over his eyes. “You don’t need to do it in front of everyone, for fuck’s sake!”

Minho pulls away from you and laughs. Then he takes your hand in his and tells his roommate, “Stay here with Chan tonight. We need the apartment so I can make love to my girlfriend all night.”

Hyunjin drops his hand from his eyes and gawps at what he’s just heard.

You giggle madly and decide to capitalize on Hyunjin’s first speechless moment by leading Minho back downstairs and out the front door without another word to anyone.

---

It’s difficult to keep your hands off him while he drives you both back to his place, but you manage to make it until he parks the car. He rounds the car and opens your door in record time, helping you climb out so he can take you by the hand again and lead you upstairs.

His front door slams closed with Minho’s back pressed against it because you can’t wait to kiss him any longer. He grunts at the impact but doesn’t lose focus over the way he’s licking inside your mouth. When you press your thigh between his legs, he sighs at the contact on his erection. You go to drop to your knees and free it, but he stops you.

“Bedroom,” he instructs, voice pitched low.

You raise your eyebrows and grin before hurrying to his room. He slaps your ass as soon as you turn, and you squeal excitedly. You take it upon yourself to strip as you go, and Minho happily follows your lead. By the time you get to his bed, you’re left only in your bra and panties, and he’s down to his boxers.

Perching yourself on his mattress, you beckon him closer with a crook of your finger. Again, he follows, and you allow him to unhook your bra and drop it to the floor. You try to reach for his dick again, but he takes your wandering hand and presses a hasty kiss to your palm.

“Wasn’t I supposed to be proving something?” he reminds you. “Get that pussy in my face. Now.”

You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing that soft voice of his used on the filthiest words.

“Fuck, Minho,” you gasp, lying back and letting him maneuver your legs however he wants before slotting himself in between. Goosebumps prickle to life across your skin the moment his breath hits one of your inner thighs. He practically tears your panties down your legs, and a second later, he’s diving in.

His tongue licks feverishly up and down your slit, occasionally poking shallowly inside your hole, while his face shakes back and forth messily. His fervor is hot, but you know he’s not actually trying to get you off yet; he’s simply enjoying himself for now, which is also hot in itself.

Minho pulls away after a moment and moans, “Love the way you taste, baby.”

You don’t have a response for that, but he’s not expecting one, either. He leans right back in and narrows in on your clit now, flicking his tongue over it slowly. Very slowly.

He can be such a fucking tease.

“Minho, please,” you pout. “No teasing. Not tonight.”

“But we have all night,” he reasons, barely lifting his face away from your center to get the words out. “You’re gonna come more than once tonight, Y/N, I promise.”

He doesn’t resist when you wind your fingers into his hair, but he doesn’t speed up his ministrations, either. He keeps his pace slow and tantalizing, a stark contradiction to just a few minutes ago when you were both running down the hall to get here.

You tighten your fingers against his scalp and swear you can feel him smirk into your folds.

“Gonna get you nice and wet for my dick,” Minho murmurs, and you’re not sure if he’s talking more to you or himself now.

He coils his arms tighter around your legs, keeping you spread wide open for him. A wet sound draws your attention, and you look down in time to watch a glob of spit fall from his puckered lips down to your pussy. The eroticism has your head rolling back against his sheets.

Minho spreads his spit across your slit with his tongue, wriggling it back and forth, up and down, until you’re smeared with a sticky mixture of his saliva and your own dripping arousal. It didn’t take long at all to get what he wanted - you, nice and wet for his dick - but it seems he’s still in no rush to stick it inside you.

His warm hands move to cup your ass, fingers splayed over your cheeks, thumbs spreading your folds apart to see your clenching hole. Your hips buck of their own accord, trying to regain any sort of friction for the spot between them.

Minho swears under his breath and presses a surprisingly chaste kiss to your slit, then another. His kisses quickly turn open-mouthed and greedy, though, and his tongue returns to the mix to wriggle as far into your walls as he can get it. He gives you firm licks from the inside, which starts to work you into a frenzy, but it’s not the same as having his thick, hard cock stretching you open. His wet tongue is nice, and he’s great with it, but it just can’t knock against your g-spot as well as his cock does.

“Minho,” you whine again.

He withdraws his tongue and hums against you curiously, as though he couldn’t possibly know what you want.

“Just fuck me already,” you plead, tugging at his smooth hair.

He shakes his head free of your hold and looks up at you slyly. “But I just got down here.”

You writhe. “I already know you give amazing head, you can prove it again some other time. Please just get inside me.”

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he compliments suddenly, and you can’t tell if that means he’s going to oblige your plea now or not.

Minho starts crawling up from between your thighs, trailing kisses up your stomach and chest as he goes. When he reaches one of your tits, he takes as much of it into his mouth as he can to give it a rough suck, and you gasp when he bites into your skin. The rough sensation sends a pulse of need south to your core.

His eyes flick up to your face as he releases your tit with a soft suction sound. “Sorry, baby. Too rough?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s good, I like it.”

He smiles. “Good.”

He takes the side of your face in one of his hands and kisses your lips. His tongue is still ripe with your juices, but you don’t mind. Minho always finds it hot kissing you after he’s gone down on you, and you find it hot when he’s desperately horny. The man who seemed content to spend all night teasing you half to death a few minutes ago is moaning prettily into your mouth and eagerly clashing his tongue with yours.

“You make me fucking crazy,” he groans, finally pulling away for some air.

When his hands go to the waistband of his boxers, a wave of excitement trembles through you. The sight of his erection springing free over the top of his underwear makes you whimper, and Minho smirks at your unabashed reaction. You can’t help it, though - not when his cockhead looks so delicious, all red and swollen and wet at the tip.

You’ve barely gotten a good look before he’s leaning over to yank open the drawer on his nightstand.

“Wait,” you say, placing a hand on his shoulder just before he can rip a condom off the strip with only three left on it.

Minho freezes and looks to you in concern. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You glide your hand down to squeeze his bare bicep. “Nothing’s wrong, I was just thinking…Maybe we can go without a condom.”

“Without one?” he asks, clearly confused.

You nod and reach to cup his other bicep, too. He’s still holding the strip of condoms, fingers still poised to tear one off to use. You gently take them from him and drop them back into his nightstand.

“I’m still on the pill, and we know we’re both clean, so… why not?” you say, chewing your lip.

It takes another moment for realization to sink in, at which point Minho’s tense body finally relaxes and he smiles widely, clearly excited by this prospect.

“Holy shit, you want me to fuck you raw?” He cups one hand on your waist, the other on the nape of your neck. “Are you sure, Y/N?”

Having sex without a condom isn’t something you’ve ever done, and you know Minho hasn’t, either. It’s new territory, but the risks are low, and you’re willing to do this since it’s with him.

You lean in to peck his cheek before answering. “I’m sure, Minho. I want us to really feel each other. And I want you to cum inside me.”

His jaw drops, and you get the impression his mind hadn’t even gone that far yet, still stuck at the part where he gets to feel your tight, wet pussy around him without the annoying barrier.

“Oh my god,” he groans. He uses both hands to pull you into another quick series of open-mouth kisses, then asks how you want him.

Wordlessly, you shuffle a little to the side to settle right in the middle of his mattress and lie back again, just as before. Minho moves with you, positioning himself between your spread legs again. His throbbing erection bobs in the open air as he moves until he takes it in his hand and gives himself a few slow pumps. A drop of precum leaks from his tip onto his sheets, and even though this is exactly what you wanted, it fully hits you now that your best friend - boyfriend - is about to fuck you without a condom for the first time.

His cockhead pops smoothly into your sopping cunt, and Minho hisses through his teeth. Dropping forward, he takes one of your hands in his and presses it into the sheets over your head, and you give it a squeeze as he pushes in deeper and stretches you further.

“O-Oh, holy sh-shit,” Minho stutters.

You chuckle and purposely clench your walls tighter, trying to suck him in the rest of the way. He practically yelps.

“Jesus, don’t do that, baby,” he whimpers. His new tone of voice is delicious. “This is probably going to be unimpressive as it is, but I’ll come in two fucking seconds if you’re gonna squeeze me like that- fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

“Well, we have all night, don’t we?” you tease, throwing his earlier words back at him.

He doesn’t respond, just sinks the rest of his length into your warm, wet cunt. Once he bottoms out, he pauses again, and you can feel his cock twitch inside you.

“Good?” you ask.

Minho hums. “You feel incredible, baby. I don’t think I can go back to condoms after this.”

It’s a mindless, heat-of-the-moment phrase that makes you giggle, and he groans when you unintentionally clench tighter around him. You’re about to wrap your arms around his neck, but he’s already straightening his back to look down at where he’s joined with you. He drags his hips back an inch or two, watching his cock reappear slicker than before.

His eyelids flutter. “Want to rail you so fucking bad, but I’ll come way too fast.”

You shrug. “So come fast.”

Minho ignores your suggestion, running his hands along your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide for him so he can continue enjoying the view. It might be partly to distract himself, but he reaches out to strum his thumb back and forth across your swollen clit, and you jolt at the immediate rush of pleasure. You also clench around him again, which makes him shiver and bite his lip.

Part of you wants to joke about how good your pussy must be to stress him out like this, but it’s clear that he’s struggling, and you doubt that teasing is going to help him relax in this case.

“Hey,” you whisper, reaching down for his forearm between your legs. Minho looks up and stops fingering your clit. “Everything’s good, baby. We have all night.”

This time you mean it in a gentler, more sincere capacity, and you know he can tell the difference. His posture relaxes, thick thighs bowing outward to settle himself more comfortably. You let go of his arm and make a show of arching your back, hoping to both relax and entice him further.

But instead of starting to roll his hips like you hoped, Minho sticks his thumb into his mouth for a second, then drops it back down to your clit. This time he doesn’t absently swipe it back and forth, but draws smooth little circles into it just the way you’ve taught him.

A small moan escapes you: “Oh, fuck.”

Minho smirks, a sign that he’s finally getting back in his element. He doesn’t resume teasing you, though. His thumb picks up the pace rather quickly, hellbent on getting you to come before him.

“Can’t wait for you to cream my dick tonight,” he says. “It’s gonna feel amazing.”

You chuckle. “Right, compared to every other time when it only felt okay.”

He shakes his head and kicks his thumb up another notch. “It’s way different to feel you raw like this. Does it feel different for you, too?”

You’re not sure how to answer him at first. You think you can feel every ridge and vein on his cock pulsing where it’s still sitting idly halfway inside you, but mostly it just feels like having his hard cock inside you, same as always. He does feel harder than usual, though.

“Not a lot, but you always feel so fucking good,” you say finally. “Can’t wait to come on your bare cock, either, then have you fuck me hard so I can really feel how slippery I made it when it’s pushing in and out of me.”

Minho swears under his breath and doubles down on his efforts to make you come, reaching up with his free hand to twist one of your nipples. Your back arches off the bed again, this time quite involuntarily. You just can’t help but writhe when he’s already an expert at working you up.

He tightens the circles he’s drawing into your clit, unfaltering in his movements. You can feel the knot inside you winding tighter as the pleasure builds, your muscles drawing taut in preparation for the explosion.

You reach down again to hold his wrist, not to stop him, but to let him know he’s got it right and you’re getting close. “Fuck, baby, yes, just like that,” you pant.

“Mm, I can feel you getting tighter, Y/N,” Minho murmurs, getting a handful of your tit and brushing his thumb back and forth over your nipple. “Your body is so responsive for me.”

“It’s so good,” you whimper, head rolling to the side again. “You’re so good- shit- p-please don’t stop, don’t fucking stop…”

He licks his lips and looks down. Your clit is almost too slippery for him to maintain the fast, tight movements you need, but he manages to keep the pace and pressure consistent. You’ve told him before that you can easily lose your orgasm if he switches things up even briefly; your orgasms aren’t as easily salvaged or rebuilt as his.

Tonight, however, he manages to undo you quickly. The pleasure bursts just as he rolls your nipple the other way, and you moan loudly as you start trembling through your orgasm. Your legs clamp around his arm to trap it where you need it so you can ride your high as far possible. The series of extra tight clenches your pussy offers his dick makes Minho grunt almost as loudly.

Just as your climax starts tapering off and your muscles slowly relax, Minho bends forward to gather you in his arms and press his body into yours. His cock slips a little from your soaked cunt, but he quickly corrects that with a snap of his hips to shove himself balls-deep.

“Fuck!” you cry out, overwhelmed by the sudden movement in the best possible way.

Minho starts fucking into you just the way you’ve been dreaming about tonight, but not with his usual elegant movements of rolling his pelvis into yours. His thrusts are rough and sloppy, but the friction of his rock-hard dick pumping back and forth between the walls of your cunt is still so fucking good.

You think you might even be able to come again just from his cock if he could just keep hitting your g-spot just right, but the way he’s currently drooling and panting into your neck tells you he’s not going to hold out that long.

Instead, you encourage him to milk out that orgasm he’s been holding off. “Keep fucking me just like this, baby,” you moan, hugging his shoulders tight. “Feels so fucking good, you’re so fucking hard inside me. Shit- don’t stop…”

Minho whines and goes in harder, faster. If he wasn’t holding you flush to his chest, you’re sure your body would be rattling up the mattress with the force of his thrusts. The resounding smack-smack-smack of his hips against yours can probably be heard through the walls.

“You’re gonna come inside me, right?” you go on, breathless. “Gonna fill my little pussy up with cum?”

“Jesus fuck!” Minho curses. His hips jerk unsteadily, but he keeps pounding you into the mattress. Truthfully, he’s lasting longer than he led you to believe he would.

Reaching down, you latch your hands onto his ass to feel it flexing with his movements, and it’s like you’ve pulled some kind of trigger.

“Y/N, baby,” he grits out, “Shit-shit-shit, I’m coming, I’m fucking c-coming!”

With one final thrust, he lodges his cock as deep as he can get and unloads into your pussy. Immediately, you can feel the burst of warmth spread through your core, and you suddenly agree with his assessment that it would be hard to go back to condoms after this - not that you intend to. If having raw sex gets him to moan like this when he comes, you’re fine with never using condoms again.

His cock continues twitching for a while as his orgasm subsides, and you find yourself wondering just how much cum he shot into you and if it’ll start dripping out the second he pulls out.

His chest is heaving when he finally peels it off of yours. You barely get a look at his sweaty face before he’s kissing you again, tongue instantly seeking comfort against yours. You cup his face in your hands and groan into his mouth when he tilts his face the other way to get the best angle.

When he finally pulls back, he’s flushed and smiling down at you.

“Holy shit, that was so good,” he mutters, voice hoarse. He pushes some stray hairs back from your clammy forehead and asks, “You okay?”

You can’t help but laugh. “I’m fucking great. You’re damn right that was good.”

Minho grins wider and eases his cock out of you, mindful of the overstimulation. Just as you suspected, a trickle of his cum follows and leaks down your ass. Your best friend - boyfriend - watches more of his cum rush out to gather at your opening and drip onto his sheets. The sight must be beautifully lewd; you wish you could see.

The lust-filled glaze that coats Minho’s eyes is a dead giveaway for what he’s about to suggest next.

He slicks a finger through your cum-covered slit and asks, “Want a break, or are you good for round two?”

Your pussy throbs with the hints of that second orgasm that had been stirring.

“I'm good to keep going.”

Minho smirks. “Alright. Hands and knees then, baby. I owe you some orgasms.”

---

if you enjoyed, please consider re-blogging and/or leaving me some feedback. take care! ♡

#lee know smut #minho smut #lee minho smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know x reader #minho x reader #lee minho x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #good to me #daizymax

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randybutternubber · 3 months

Text

I’ve noticed a distinct lack of love for the kid from the first ep of TSON who helped noone and the workers, so here’s some art with some HCS (Kid on the left, I’ll just call them goo kid, worker on the right)

Random goo kid HCS

Goo kid fell into a vat of some weird ass shit shadow goop in the factory

They use this to their advantage to basically blend in with the workers

Goo kid is around 6 to 7 years old and was relatively young when they were taken to the nowhere

Because of the factory having a lot of darker areas and the goop messsing with their eyes, they don’t have great vision and they’re nearly blind in one eye. They also have some hearing issues due to basically getting exposed to loud ass factory equipment constantly. Due to this, they’re very tactile and they often try to hold the hands or touch the faces of other children, but it’s often met with rejection due to often getting mistaken as a worker and usually not properly asking to do so. Their sense of smell is also pretty fried

Goo kid is mostly non-verbal and has a very limited vocabulary as a result of being taken so young and spending most of their time around the workers who don’t speak

The workers often try to give them tools like hammers and wrenches, thinking that they’re another worker

Even if a worker realizes they’re not one of them, they tend to not be very aggressive towards them because they’re very used to them being there. They’re mainly aggressive when goo kid is with another child or gets too close to the machinery

Goo kid’s clothes were taken from a worker. Most of them wear workers overalls, but it’s very common for the overalls to be heavily damaged as the shadow goop stuff isn’t that good when on fabric and they’re often torn by machinery

Because of lack of exposure to light, goo kid has pretty pale skin, which is also very sensitive to the sun, along either their eyes

Worker head canons

Workers act smarter when alone/in small groups and show a lot more individual personality as well. When they’re in groups, the hive mind kind of takes over and they become completely engrossed in keeping the factory running. This is why they tend to act quite dull/stupid when together, but the individual workers seemed to stalk/observe Noone and goo kid before striking

Like nomes, workers do hoard items, often in their pockets/pouches or tool belts if they have one, but they also like to hoard items in their own little nooks and crannies

They sometimes accidentally (or purposefully) steal each other’s tools while working, and yes, they will brawl over a wrench, but they often don’t notice/don’t know who took it

Workers can coalesce into far bigger shadow amalgamations, but it can only occur in very low light conditions, and only if the situation is bad

They have great eyesight in the dark and can see a ton of detail when up close, but otherwise, their vision is quite poor. Their hearing, on the other hand, is excellent, and like birds when they call, their ears have a sort of shadow muscle something something like that that closes when near loud machinery. This is another reason why goo kid doesnt talk besides being primarily non verbal and why they stop noone from speaking. Their hearing also helps with noticing if a machine needs fixing

Workers walk on their toes and their feet are rarely flat on the ground. This, coupled with their claws causes them to have a unique sounding footstep

Their toes/feet are very flexible, allowing them to scramble around and climb quite well

Their arms are proportionally longer since they often work with tools that are quite large for them

Workers can scramble around on all fours quite effectively

Some of them have exposed teeth

They often grab goo kid/lead him “back to the group” when they find them far away from where most of the workers are. It makes exploring difficult, but if goo kid gets stuck/lost, it can be very helpful

Goo kid is a bit scared of the workers, but because they tend to just think they’re another worker, they aren’t absolutely terrified

Singular workers are generally more playful and curious. They’re also more likely to notice something is different about goo kid. They poke them and sometimes try to apply some of the shadow goop to their face thinking that there’s something wrong with him

#little nightmares #little nightmares 2 #little nightmares 3 #goo kid the sounds of nightmares #goo kid little nightmares #the workers the sounds of nightmares #the workers little nightmares #the shadow kids little nightmares #little nightmares fanart #TSON #noone the sounds of nightmares #the sounds of nightmares #tson noone #I guess a bit of world building?#my art

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shreddedleopard · 8 months

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I genuinely think William’s real name is actually still William, just with a different surname.

Hear me out.

#1 — irony.

Remember the omake where Bonde asks him and he’s got his ☺️ face ‘that’s a secret, heh heh heh.’

Lol William is the biggest mischievous jokester going. This would be his exact reaction if people were asking like 👀 omg what is it?? And all along he’s like, lol will.i.am guys, chill. No-one cares about your first name, it’s your surname which means anything around here. You’ve all been barking up the wrong tree. Which brings me on to my second point ~

#2 — symbolism.

I cannot scream enough about how bloody genius it would be for William’s name to be, in fact, just William, but with a more common surname like ‘Smith.’ For the purposes of this discussion, let’s call him William Smith. As an orphan, he gets adopted into the family Moriarty, where there is in fact another William: Master William James Moriarty. Immediately, you have two boys of similar ages with the exact same first names, highlighting how, in fact, they should be equal if we’re looking at their basic information and identifiers. But what is it which sets them apart, and is the very message and theme running through the heart of Yuumori? Class inequality. And what dictated your social class at the time, so very unfairly? Your family lineage.

The name of Moriarty is what gives Albert’s little brother his superior, privileged position in life, over William ‘Smith.’ And yet, they are both young boys, both Williams, both should have the same sort of start in life in the equal world our William wishes to create. But they do not; the moment they are given their surnames — the moment those are penned on the paper of their birth records following ‘William’, the chasm that divides these boys is immense and unfair.

#3 — interesting coincidences, hints and clues in the text.

• William loves Shakespeare — that’s part of his identity in the same way being a mathematician is. He quotes Shakespeare all the time, he grew up in a library and has all of the plays memorised. Shakespeare’s first name was also William. Additionally, Shakespeare’s birthday is believed to be April 23rd. William’s birthday is listed as April 1st — April Fool’s Day, and it has been confirmed that this is a fake birthday, so we don’t know his real one currently. (But my guess is it’s still in April).

• The Moriarty’s never call William by his name, pre-fire, but the children at his orphanage do, and they call him Will.

At the Moriarty house, he is on the receiving end of more hate than Louis; they seem to despise him to the nth degree. I wonder if this might be because he shares a name with their precious William, and this irks them. They refuse to call him by his name because that doesn’t belong to him, filth from the streets, it belongs to their beloved son who can do no wrong.

I can see a mother like Lady Moriarty refusing to call another boy by the name she gifted her son, especially when William reminds her that there is something she had in common with his own mother — someone who she would view as completely beneath her: they chose the same name. What a disgrace, to be associated or viewed as having a similar mind to a woman of such low standing!?

We also see William only ever call William Moriarty with the title ‘master’ in front, as though he also feels the need to make the distinction. This could just be because he’s trying to be polite, though. I could honestly dissect the entire first chapter panel by panel and highlight how William being William is such a simple but perfect concept which highlights this noble family’s insecurities, discrimination and narrow mindedness. William Moriarty feels the need to constantly reaffirm his own identity in the presence of our William.

Because … if they share full names now, with the adoption … the lines are blurring. What makes one William Moriarty superior to the other? A worrying thought indeed for this boy. (Answer: there is no difference, they’re both equally deserving of opportunities in life.)

It all makes such perfect sense and explains away the awkwardness of the writer having to avoid use of William’s name simply because ‘it needs to stay hidden to create the mystery.’ This gives the characters themselves reason within the text to avoid using it, which makes everything so much more authentic and real. It makes sense because it does, not because it has to for the plot.

• William promised not to steal anything. Twice, we see him reassuring and then reaffirming that he wouldn’t steal anything, and both times are in the presence of William Moriarty.

If we want to take this statement in light of names, and toy with that lovely device foreshadowing, William having always shared the same first name would in fact mean that statement holds true — he did not steal William’s name; it was always his own to begin with, and Moriarty was a name given to him as part of his adoption, the same as it was given to Louis. He really didn’t steal anything, despite the fact that he was probably made to feel guilty or worthless every day because of the name he shared with William Moriarty.

This also means that William probably never actively deceived any of the townspeople, either; it really was just a case of mistaken identity which he manipulated for his own cause.

The townspeople made the mistake, rather than William outright lying. William is, by trade, more of a master manipulator who turns situations to his advantage with his quick thinking, rather than straight up lying or deceiving people (see: The Merchant of London.)

• Sherlock saw his birth name but never mentions it. And still chooses to call him Liam. Yes, we might’ve had a conversation happen off screen. Yes, Sherlock might choose to do that because that name is sentimental and William has asked not to be called his true name for reasons unknown. But it would fit so beautifully if William really is his name, and Sherlock’s realisation that day when he read the birth records was that oh, so this — William ‘Smith’ — is Liam’s real name. Naturally, he would continue to call him Liam with no discussion needed, because it’s a shortened version of William.

• We have lots of characters who share the name William, but with different variations on the shortened version; another symbol of how people can be equal in some senses but also their identity can be individual to them also. William H Bonney is Billy the Kid, the mathematics genius William and Sherlock stumble upon in Durham is called Bill Hunt.

#4 — practicality and marketing.

People become attached to characters and their names, and there comes a certain point in a work where it’s very difficult to alter a character’s first name and still retain a fan base’s sense of identity for that character. Calling William say, Robert, from now on, or revealing that as his true name while we continue to see him referred to as William is all sorts of confusing, emotionally. Perhaps it’s just me. But the idea that I’ve been calling William the wrong name all along feels off and sad, whereas the knowledge that he’s at least been able to keep that part of himself consistent, when everything else has had to be an act, is actually really comforting and empowering.

I’d love to write another thought dump on why William being William all along is also, so very emotionally delicious when you explore the implications in the story; it’s heartbreaking and makes him an even more sympathetic character who I just wanna hug, so perhaps I’ll come back to this! Because re-reading those earlier chapters with this in mind really hurts so good.

He stole nothing; he was always the true William, that at least is one thing that always belonged to him — it was only society and us that dictated there was one William worth knowing more — was more interesting and held more narrative power — than the other.

This is still William’s story.

#william james moriarty #william moriarty #yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #yuumori #William Moriarty analysis #meta #Yuumori analysis #Moriarty the patriot analysis #meta analysis

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orqheuss · 11 months

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Seven new ways that you can eat your young

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/F!Reader SMUT)

Summary:

I'm starvin', darlin', let me put my lips to something, let me wrap my teeth around the world. *** In the midst of the end-of-the-year Slytherin party for the graduating seventh years, Ominis hears something that makes his blood boil. *** Smut based on the Hozier song, "Eat Your Young."

word count: 6.4K

AN: I'm reposting all of my fics from ao3 on to here for easier access! We're starting with the smut.

Slytherin’s always threw the best parties. That’s what everyone said, at least. It was the eve of the last week before the seventh-year’s graduated. All of the older students gathered in the Slytherin common room, ready to shake off any stress they had about the inevitable future. The merriment flowed like the goblets filled with firewhiskey and butterbeer sloshing in their hands. The room smelled heavily like sweat, alcohol, and sex. Some couples had already retired to their respective common rooms, leaving the main living area filled with green-colored horny teenagers and a few singletons still floating around.

Ominis stood off to the side of the party, back leaning against the cool wall of the common room. The glow of the black lake through the large cathedral style windows danced across his face, making him look ethereal. He wasn’t a fan of parties— much too loud for him. But, he promised Sebastian that he would try to have fun at the last party of their school career. Many people have approached to ask him for a dance, but he declined each time. He did not dance, even with his closest friends. His limbs were too long, too gangly to move smoothly. While he had filled out some since he was a newly minted young adult, he was still made out of all bony angles. From his vantage point in the room, he could hear absolutely everything that was happening. With his enhanced hearing, he could even go as far as pinpoint exactly where his companions were and what they were doing. He had memorized their sounds long ago— their distinct walking pattern, their strong heartbeats, their melodic voices. It was like recognizing his favorite song coming out of a gramophone across the room from him.

Sebastian was in the far corner of the room, over by the fireplace. There were multiple, feminine shaped forms around him. Ominis could hear him laugh at something one of them said, or maybe at a joke that came out of his mouth. Either way, the man was most definitely trying to have some unseemly fun with one of his many admirers that night. His heart was beating at a steady pace in his chest; the alcohol definitely calmed his nerves. Sebastian may have been a ladies man, but he fumbled around like the best of them when he thought too hard. There was something so drawing, so enticing about him. Maybe it was the cadence that he held himself with, how he was so confident in himself but still so humble about his achievements. Or maybe it was his charismatic voice— he could charm the pants off of the Minister of Magic. Either way, Sebastian Sallow was attractive. To anyone else in the common room, it would just seem like the brunette was just using his charm on the ladies of Slytherin house. But, Ominis knew the truth; Sebastian always liked to tease him about his jealous tendencies. Even if they weren’t together, not unless they were drunk, of course, the brunette knew that it bothered the blond to his very core that he was so irresistible to the rest of the student body. Any other time of the day, or other level of sobriety, it probably would bother the Gaunt man, but he knew that once this night was over and all of the others had gone to bed, he would be in the Undercroft absolutely pounding the brattiness out of his best friend. The blond smirked to himself, looking down at his foaming drink and taking a long sip to hide his smugness. Images of the last Slytherin party filled his mind, like when Sebastian danced into their shared room and took his hand before eagerly dragging him to their secret hideaway. He remembered the feeling of his smooth skin against his fingertips as he shoved him over the arm of the settee he had conjured up and lined up with his entrance; the mental image caused the slight bulge in his trousers to jump. He was pleasantly tipsy, the alcoholic concoction that Imelda made him sending little shivers of warmth through his system and making his thoughts disapparate into a lovely fog. Oh yes, he knew that he would have a good night tonight. What he hadn’t expected was for his other best friend to be a part of it, as well.

Ominis’ ears twitched in the direction of his female companion, hearing your twinkling giggle coming from the dance floor. He could sense the shape of your body dancing against the pelvis of someone else, someone much taller and much more muscular. The soft curves of your body were visible for once to the boy— the sound waves from the thumping music cascaded around you and formed a distinct shape in his mind. You were truly captivating, each sound you made jumped from his ears directly to his heart and more private places. A new feeling of jealousy bubbled under the surface of his skin at the idea of someone else touching you. The man’s hands were on your hips, pressing your behind into his front in a raunchy show of lust. A deep chuckle filled his ears, his eyebrows stitching together in annoyance. Weasley. That rat had his hands on his best friend, drawing those delicious mewls from your throat. He could hear your harsh breathing from his post; you were absolutely panting in need. Your hips gyrated on the redhead’s lap, swinging back and forth in captivating circles that caused Ominis’ mind to go to some dark places. He could see the shadow of the Gryffindor’s pinky enter the band of your skirt, his head tip towards your stretched taut neck, and his vision filled with red. Jealousy flooded his body at the thought of Garreth Weasley, of all people, touching something that was rightfully his . He didn’t know when his subconscious had taken ownership of you, but in that moment it was singing for revenge.

Absolutely not. Fuck that.

Downing the rest of his drink, the blond slammed his goblet on the nearest bookshelf and stalked towards the pair grinding on each other. Steam seemed to come out of his nose in anger like a charging bull. Grasping you by her shoulder in a strong grip, he spun you away from the redhead and pressed your backside against his front, a protective arm wrapped around the top of your chest. Ominis glowered at the startled Gryffindor, shoving a finger against his chest and sending him stumbling back slightly.

“No Gryffindor’s allowed, get out.”

Garreth stuttered in confusion and outrage, gesturing with his hands to the people around him. “What, who said that?”

Ominis growled, “I did. Now leave, Weaselby, before I make you.”

With a huff, the redhead stalked off of the dance floor, mumbling about how he didn’t even want to be there anyway. The blond smirked triumphantly in his direction, raising his hand from his side and twiddling his fingers in a snarky goodbye. The woman he had taken wiggled against his chest slightly, turning your head towards his arm and looking up at his face.

“Ominis, what was that—”

He squeezed the arm across your chest tighter, pressing you back further into his chest. It was now or never, he supposed. He leaned down towards your ear, his hot breath fanning against your pulse point with captivating warmth. He nosed at the base of your throat, dragging the tip up, up, up and behind your ear, slightly nibbling at the cuff before pulling away and hovering his lips over your ear canal.

“Saucy thing, you are, thinking you could dance with someone else when you belong to Sebastian and I.”

Your breathing caught in your throat, a warmth spreading down your chest and straight down to what was between your legs at his tone of voice. You had never heard Ominis sound so hot and bothered before.

He chuckled at how tense you had gotten, licking the edge of your ear and whispering, “Only we are allowed to touch you like that, darling.”

Ominis had never thought these words about his companion, never once considered the idea of them being together, but something about it felt so damned right. Your heartbeat stuttered against his arm, speeding up to a rapid rate. You gasped a small sigh, your breath fluttering out of your chest in captivated bliss.

“Ominis, I—”

“Shh, pet.” He leaned down once again and pressed his lips to the part where your shoulder met your throat, leaving a bruising kiss on the skin. “Just let me worship you.”

He didn’t think that your heart could beat any faster— the organ thumping against your rib cage at the speed of a hummingbird's wings. Ominis smiled against your skin, lightly biting where he had kissed and beginning to move his hips against your plump rear. His hot breath fluttered over your neck and down your chest, a soft “fuck,” leaving his mouth at the new friction. The crassness of his language sent another burst of warmth to your most intimate place; the blond very rarely swore, and the taboo-ness of it sent a shiver down your spine in pleasure. You slowly began to rotate your hips against the lithe man, pressing further into his pelvic bone and feeling his prominent arousal against your lower back. Soft moans of pleasure drifted out of your parted lips, your eyes shut in ecstasy as a hand reached up and buried itself into the man’s silken hair. His other arm stretched around your waist, gripping your skin there with enough pressure to leave fingerprints on you tomorrow. If you were to die here, on that dance floor, you would consider it a blessing.

In your state of bliss, you did not notice the second man approaching the pair of you from the front. Another pair of strong arms wrapped around your form, one hand resting on the small of your back and the other pressing the blond closer by his rear. A familiar, gruff voice filled the ears of the two.

“Please, don’t let me stop you both from enjoying yourself.” Sebastian laughed breathily against the other side of your neck, releasing you from his grip, pulling the collar of your shirt down slightly further, and pressing a hot, open mouthed kiss on your newly exposed shoulder. You were now sandwiched between your two best friends, and Merlin, you loved every second of it. Sebastian grinded his hard-on against the front of your clothed center, drawing a startled whimper from your throat and a buck of your hips against his. He groaned softly, his hand trailing to your neck and closing around it, slightly cutting off your air supply. Ominis grasped the brunette by the scruff of his neck, pulling him slightly further into the throes of your hot bodies and pushing him to mouth at his pulse point. A near silent moan rumbled against your back, his voice bleeding into your sensitive skin and lighting your nerves on fire.

Visions filled your mind of the two boys and what you wanted them to do to you.

You were on your back, stripped of your clothes and your legs spread and pressed up near your ears. The brunette pounded into you with the strength of ten men, sending pleasurable shock waves through your entire body and causing a cascade of moans to leave your open throat. Ominis soon joined you both in the sweet sin, crawling towards the pair of students on his hands and knees with a look of hunger decorating his face. He leaned up and whispered something in Sebastian’s ear, grinning in delighted villainy. Sebastian smirked down at you, grasping you by the hips and flipping you quickly over onto your stomach, pulling your rear towards his awaiting cock and sliding in once again. You mewled at the new angle that his hot member could reach inside you. Ominis made his way to your face, his cock swinging in your eyesight and causing your mouth to water. He lifted your chin, gently rubbing his thumb against your cheekbone and smiling down at you. He pressed the tip of his dick against your slightly parted lips, dragging it along your bottom lip and wetting it with his excitement.

He swore at the feeling, whispering, “Be a good girl and pleasure me with your mouth. I want to feel your moans around my hard cock. Let me know how much you’re enjoying us.”

Your jaw went slack at his words, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the dirty words that flowed from his kiss-bruised lips. He took your hair into his hand, gathering it up into a ponytail at the base of your skull before pulling you gently forward and letting your lips wrap around his head. You stuck your tongue out and ran it along the prominent vein on the underside, drawing a stuttered moan from the boy above you. The one behind you gave you a particularly harsh thrust, pressing your soft behind roughly against his crotch. You groaned at the feeling, sending vibrations around the swollen member filling your mouth and throat.

A sharp tug at your hair brought you back to reality, both boys harshly grinding against you at the same time sending a moan rocketing out of your lips. Ominis laughed behind you, leaning down and whispering in your ear, “Dirty girl! Thinking those crass things about us and what we could do to you. Were those thoughts just for me to see?”

Fuck. You forgot he was a legilimens.

He laughed even more when you stiffened against him in embarrassed shock. He leaned away from you, instead slightly craning his neck towards the other boy you were sandwiched between.

“Sebastian, if only you could see the things going through her mind right now. It’s downright filthy.”

The boy groaned at the sharp thrust the blond made against you, sending your clothed heat directly into his waiting, throbbing bulge, before humming in thought against the side of your neck.

“I suppose we should go fulfill her dreams, then.”

The men detached themselves from you, both grabbing a hand and pulling you towards the direction of the exit. Hoots and hollers could be heard at their back, their fellow Slytherin’s cheering them on for the show. Ominis could hear Imelda amongst the masses, cheering alongside them and shouting, “About bloody time, ya bastards!”

You three stumbled out of the common room exit and spilled into the castle dungeon hallway, giggles wracking your frames as the warmth of firewhiskey and pure arousal burned through your bodies. Sebastian quickly turned towards you, wrapping an arm around your waist and heaving you over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. You laughed hysterically, hands playing bongos against his peachy rump. He swatted yours in return, before turning towards the Grand Staircase and sprinting off towards the Undercroft, Ominis on his heels and laughing into the wind.

The three of you bounded down the abandoned castle halls, laughter bouncing off the tall ceilings and echoing into the beautiful night sky. Ghosts watched as you all passed by, before turning their heads back towards each other and shrugging, softly smiling at the feeling of young love shedding off of the trio in waves.

Sebastian did not place you back on the ground until you crossed the threshold of the secret hideaway. As soon as your feet touched stone once again, he quickly pulled you against his chest and brought your lips to his, teeth clashing together in his rush and desire to feel your kiss for the first time. Ominis listened to both of your sounds, his cock pulsing once again and threatening to burst through the zipper of his trousers. He quickly transformed three of the crates lined up next to each other into a large, four poster bed. He ran towards the cushioned surface, leaping into the air and body slamming on to the linen quilt adorning the top. He laughed heartily into the blanket before turning on to his back and leaning against the bed frame, his legs crossed elegantly in front of him and his arms raising to cross behind his head in relaxation.

The brunette released you from the bruising kiss, looking over to his companion across the room and feeling a large smile stretch across his cheeks. He grasped your hand in his, pulling you towards the large bed and lifting you up, setting you down right on the edge and pushing his way between your thighs. His arms caged you on either side of your hips as his lips found yours again, tongue tracing your bottom lip and asking for access to your awaiting mouth. You laughed against his soft lips before opening yours, deepening the kiss and drawing a growl from his chest. You felt the blond behind you push your hair to the side, leaning down and nibbling at your pulse point once again. His teeth nipped at your skin before smoothing away the slight pain with his tongue, doing this all the way up your neck and stopping just below your jawbone where he sucked a dark hickey into your skin. His hands trailed down your shoulders and over your chest, slowly undoing the laces of your corset and throwing it over the side of the bed before grabbing your collared shirt by the top and pulling it apart. Buttons broke away from the fabric and scattered along the stone ground, but you couldn’t care less if they suddenly came to life and started doing a tap dance routine— you would tell them to fuck right off and leave you to the absolute pleasure you were about to experience.

Sebastian hungrily grasped at the skin of your waist, now exposed to the cooling air of the Undercroft and littering you with goosebumps. He slid his palms up your sides before brushing his thumbs gently against the band of your brassiere, his mouth still ravishing yours. You nodded your head minutely against his lips, and he slid his fingers carefully under the fabric, tracing your rib cage and sending a shudder down your spine. Ominis put his nimble fingers to use once again, unhooking the stays at the front and sliding the straps down your shoulders before tossing the undergarment in the same direction of your shirt.

You shifted on the bed, bringing your body to kneel in the middle of the mattress. Your chest was heaving in lust, a rouge color spreading from your cheeks to your collarbones. Sebastian stood enraptured by the rise and fall of your breasts, your nipples standing at attention in arousal. He quickly made his way fully onto the bed, kicking off his boots and yanking the tie around his neck undone before kneeling at your side, each thigh pressed on either side of yours and his hardness rubbing against the area where your thigh met your hip. He grasped at one of your breasts, shoving his face back into your neck and biting . He could hear the other man do the same on the other side of you before assuming the same position as the brunette. Ominis pawed at your other breast, taking your nipple between his pointer finger and thumb and pinching it while capturing your lips with his. Both boys kissed you with a bruising strength, biting at your bottom lip in ownership and sending fire to your loins. Sebastian reached around your hips, undoing the button at the side of your skirt and shucking it from your body, leaving you just in your knickers. Moans and whimpers filled the space around you, the three of you deep in the throes of pleasure.

Ominis pulled away, your lips chasing his in a desperate attempt to keep the kiss going. He grabbed ahold of your throat, gently squeezing your windpipe and turning your head in his direction. He spoke directly to you, his voice flushed with absolute debauchery and seriousness. "Say the word and this stops right now. I need your explicit consent before this goes any farther."

He released your neck so you could reply to his demand. Your heart fluttered slightly at his concern for your well being; you didn't need to think hard about your decision at all. "Yes, I want this, Ominis. From the both of you." You grinned cheekily at his predatory gaze, meeting it in a silent challenge. You were nothing if not competitive. You giggled at his shift in demeanor, whispering teasingly against his lips, "My safe word is Graphorn."

The blond barked a laugh, before grasping you by the neck once again and pulling you back in for a searing kiss.

With your consent still fresh in the air, Sebastian leaned back against the plush pillows, dragging your body down with him and twisting you so your back was against his chest and his feet held your legs apart. Ominis could smell your arousal, similar to your normal scent but more musky, more primal. He licked his lips hungrily, his pupils blowing up to twice their size. He felt around the bed, finding first the brunette’s leg and then one of yours. He slotted himself between your supple thighs, elbows bent and pushing down further on both sides while his fingertips dug into the meat of your hips. He breathed hotly against your clothed sex, mouthing at the damp cloth and drawing a loud gasp from your open lips. Sebastian continued to fondle at your chest, taking turns twisting each nipple between his two fingers and squeezing at the soft flesh. Ominis turned towards your left inner thigh, placing open mouthed kisses at the burning flesh and sucking hickeys into your skin before turning to the other thigh and doing the same. More lust filled mewls spilled from your lips and were swallowed by the plush comforter below. The blond grasped at the sides of your panties, silently asking for permission to fully expose yourself to the both of them. You went to nod your head, but thought better and instead stretched your hand towards the boy, running your fingers through his hair and pulling lightly. He nipped at your hip in warning before pulling the cloth down your legs— you raising your hips slightly to help him get them all the way off. He was the one in charge tonight, not you, with your increasingly strong ancient magic and domineering personality. The hums that slid from your throat filled the blond with pride, his ego expanding tenfold. He was doing this to you; he was the one reducing your once boisterous energy to complete putty at his hands and mouth.

You were now completely nude before your best friends. Sebastian choked on his inhale at the sight of your glistening lips, absolutely dripping with arousal and emitting enough heat to keep them warm all winter. Ominis stretched his lips in a wide, toothy smile, looking very similar to the Cheshire cat, and whispered against your dripping cunt.

“You smell so wonderful. I am going to devour you.”

He then dove into your sweet paradise, lapping at your folds like a starving dog and drawing loud groans from your chest. Each flick of his tongue sent a shock wave of pleasure through your stomach, the knot in your lower abdomen beginning to form and tighten. Sebastian continued his assault on your breasts, but you craved even more. Grasping at the ends of his tie still dangling loosely around his neck, you pulled him roughly under your arm and brought his mouth level with your heaving chest. The boy got the message quickly, taking your nipple between his teeth and lightly biting— his other hand reaching around and tweaking the other once again. You cried out in pleasure, their names flowing into the air and disappearing like a puff of smoke. Ominis moved up towards your throbbing clit, taking it in his mouth and sucking it. Your cries got louder, your orgasm teetering at the very edge of the precipice. Each wiggle of your hips rubbed against the straining bulge in Sebastian’s pants, causing him to groan and rut against you in desire. Ominis couldn’t take the sounds of both of your moans, his composure completely dissolving around him and leaving him panting and thrusting his hips against the silk sheets. Each of his groans sent a vibration through your clit, heightening your pleasure and sending more whimpers from your lips.

"Fuck! Ominis, Sebastian."

You distantly remembered a conversation you had with Imelda a few days ago about his particularly long fingers when he ran his middle finger along your opening before slowly entering your pussy. Absolutely abhorrent sounds flowed from where your opening met his hand, wet noises filling the room and permeating the air with the smell of sex. He listened to your arousal spiking in captivated awe, pushing in a second finger and curling them against the spot that made you see stars. It became a competition about who would cum first, you, Sebastian, or Ominis. Both boys continued to rut against you and the bed respectively while also providing you immense amounts of pleasure. Your legs shook, an inhuman strength ripping them away from their confinement, and clamping around the face of the handsome blond. Ominis grasped onto your thigh with his free hand, shoving you deeper into his awaiting mouth. If this was where he died, he would go out a happy man. The knot in your stomach pulled taut, threatening to snap at any moment. Your hips were moving against your will, circling and bucking into the air while you chased the orgasm just out of your reach. You pulled harder at the blond’s hair, a loud grunt leaving him and causing a harsh thrust against the mattress below him. One particularly hard bump downwards and against Sebastian’s cock made him exhale harshly out of his nose and roughly bite at the skin of your side to muffle his shout. You felt his teeth sink into you and draw blood, and with that little taste of pain, the knot inside you snapped and you were launched into sweet oblivion.

Ominis happily helped you through your orgasm, gently licking the slick from your leaking cunt and cleaning up the cum that spilled out of you. You whined from over-stimulation, and with a chuckle he detached his lips from your dripping pussy and leaned up on his elbows, resting his chin against your pubic bone and listening to the sweet sounds that flowed from your throat; your drippings coated his mouth and chin, glittering in the low lamplight.

In your blissed-out state, you decided that your boys were wearing far too many pieces of clothing. You tugged at their sleeves, hoping that they would get the message without you having to say anything. You did not trust your voice at the moment, your bones feeling like jelly inside your skin. Luckily they did, and Ominis stood up from the bed and began to quickly disrobe. Sebastian followed soon after, gently moving you from his chest and resting you against the soft pillows as you continued to hopelessly try and catch your breath. You turn to the side and gaze at your best friends, their hands fumbling uselessly around the other’s body and pulling at the cloth like it’ll come off on its own. Their mouths clashed together, uncouth moans spilling from their mouths only to be swallowed by the other. Ominis reached his hands down frantically towards Sebastian’s belt, threading the leather through the buckle and unlatching it, quickly pulling it from his belt loops and tossing it to the ground with a loud clang. Sebastian undid the buttons of the Gaunt boy’s shirt, throwing it off of his shoulders and chucking it to the ground like it affronted him. He mouthed hotly against the blond's collarbone, causing Ominis to throw his head back and whine . Pure burning heat shot down to your pussy at the sound and made your clit throb. The boy threaded his fingers through the brunette’s curly hair, gliding up the back and stopping just at the back of his skull before yanking as hard as he could. It was Sebastian’s turn to whine, and you had never heard a more beautiful, more filthy sound. Ominis let go of his hair and clasped his hand around his throat, squeezing slightly like the brunette had done to you in the common room. With his other hand, he undid the buttons of his companion’s shirt, tossing it unceremoniously somewhere in the vast cavern below Hogwarts, before shoving his trousers and pants down his toned thighs, leaving him bare and ready. Ominis then grabbed at his burning cock, giving it a sharp stroke. The brunette’s head fell back in pleasure, a silent moan leaving his open, smiling mouth.

The blond leaned closer, whispering at the column of his neck, “You go get her ready, I’ll be there in a moment.”

Sebastian turned towards you once again, hunger still burning in his irises, and began to climb back up the bed. He positioned himself between your spread thighs, leaning down and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His hard cock rubbed against your slick folds, sending moans out of both of your lips only to be swallowed by the other. The tip of his dick found your entrance, slightly pushing in before pausing. A hiss left his clenched teeth as he clutched at the pillows on either side of your head with his fists.

“I am going to ruin that pretty pussy of yours. Please, can I feel you?” He begged against your lips.

“Yes, Merlin, please, yes,” you cooed at him, lashes fluttering at the sweet taste of fullness.

Slowly, he began to stretch you out, the both of you releasing relieved groans in tandem. Slight pain knit your eyebrows together, and the boy inside you kissed at the wrinkles until it disapparated into sweet pleasure. You could feel every ridge of him inside you, he filled you up so well. Needy whines left your throat at each thrust, the heat of his member absolutely setting your insides on fire. You had never been so happy to burn. You grasped at the comforter under you, your knuckles turning white in the strength of your grip.

Just like your dream, Ominis crawled onto the bed and smiled at you like a predator hunting his prey. You were suddenly on your stomach, and Sebastian was pounding into you from behind with the greediest grip on your hips. The blond boy tilted your head up, his weeping cock inches from your mouth.

He chuckled at your fucked-out expression. “Let’s make that dream of yours a reality, hmm?”

You nodded, opening your mouth and allowing him to slide into your throat. He groaned at the sweet, wet feeling of your mouth around him, gathering your hair and holding it gently as he rocked his hips against you. You stuck your tongue out, letting him slide even deeper and vibrating his entire member with your moans. He gripped at your hair harder, fully fucking your face.

His eyes shut tightly in raptured pleasure, his mouth falling open and moans leaving his throat at a volume that would make a nun blush. He groaned, whispering from his very soul, “This is so much better than I ever imagined. Take my cock just like that, my darling. You’re doing so good, sweet girl.”

You nearly came on the spot from his filthy words. Sebastian growled behind you, thrusting faster into your boiling heat. You felt his hips stutter— he was getting close. You reached your hand down in between your legs in ecstasy, finding your button and circling it with your middle finger. Moans poured from your mouth like a leaking faucet, each vocalization sending Ominis closer to his own release. He heard the sound of you playing with yourself and he bit his lip, running his fingers through your hair in a strange moment of gentleness.

“Yes, my darling, pleasure yourself. Make yourself cum on his delicious cock. Show us exactly what we do to you— how we make you feel.”

Your steadily creeping second orgasm hit its all time spike at his direction. You circle your bud even faster, rocking back and meeting the brunette’s thrusts. He swore, grabbing your hips with a bruising strength as he felt you clench around him as your release tore through you. Ominis groaned at your sounds, quickly pulling his leaking member out of your mouth and edging off his orgasm.

"Shit,” he whispered, “I have to feel your hot cunt. I need to be inside you.”

He felt around the bed, sliding down underneath you and lining up with your bruised pussy. Sebastian stilled in his movements, pulling out and causing you to whine at the sudden emptiness inside you. He leaned back on his hands, closing his eyes and trying to steady his rapid breathing. Ominis shifted under you until he was in the perfect spot, tapping you lightly on the thigh and grabbing at your waist.

“Slide down on me, my darling. I crave you. I want your heat wrapped around me.”

You quickly complied, spreading your shaking knees further apart and slowly lowering yourself onto his swollen cock with little assistance. Ominis’ mouth dropped open in a silent moan, the warmth and tightness around him sending stars behind his eyes.

You groan above him, giving in to the dirty talk flowing around the room and gathering in the air, “You feel so good inside me. You both do, fuck.”

That was enough for the blond boy to lose his last shred of composure. With renewed strength, he grabbed you by the rear and began pounding into you like an animal in heat. Both of your voices blended together in sweet, blissful harmony.

Sebastian watched the show before him like it was the last thing he would ever see. He leaned back up on his knees behind you, spreading your cheeks and gently thumbing at your other hole. A startled gasp escaped out of your mouth and you pushed back lightly on his finger. He groaned in agony, wetting his thumb in your juices and slowly stretching you out. He didn’t know that you could get louder. If the room wasn’t so far below the school, he was sure they would somehow get caught. He carefully pumped in and out of you, feeling the other man thrusting into you through your skin. He slowly eased in two more fingers, stretching you out enough so he could fit himself inside. Once satisfied with his job, he took his still throbbing member and rubbed it along your wetness, gathering enough to serve as lube.

He leaned down over you, the head of his cock pressing lightly against your ass, and kissed a freckle on the back of your shoulder before groaning against your skin.

“May I please enter you again, my love? Do you think you can handle the both of us at once? You dirty girl, I know these pretty holes of yours can take it.”

You nodded your head rapidly, nearly giving yourself whiplash in your aroused excitement— a sound very similar to the word “please” made its way out of your mewling throat. Sebastian slowly pushed in, his teeth biting into your shoulder, drawing blood once again at the tightness surrounding him, before gently thrusting in and out. You were filled to the brim with pleasure, rocking back and forth against both of your boys and matching their rhythms. The feeling of their members rubbing against each other inside of you sent both boys rocketing close to their orgasms.

Sebastian panted against your shoulder, echoing an earlier statement from the blond below the both of you, “Merlin, you're beautiful. Touch yourself, pretty girl. Cum around our cocks.”

You brought your hand back down to where you and Ominis were connected, rubbing frantically against your clit and speeding yourself closer to your orgasm. No words were said from the three friends, each lost in their own personal raptures.

Stars danced behind your closed eyelids, your third orgasm crashing over you like a sudden wave, thrice as strong as the other two. You cry out both of your friend’s names, clenching around their throbbing members and sending them both into a state of pure bliss. You felt them release inside of both of your holes, their delicious cum painting your inner walls white. Your legs gave out, sending you sprawling across the chest of the blond boy under you and bringing down the brunette at your back with you. The three of you lied there for a moment, panting as the breath desperately tried to enter your lungs once again, before the blond began to struggle under the combined weight of you both.

Now on your sides, your head resting on Ominis’ chest and Sebastian’s arm strewn across your waist, you let your eyes shut into the beginnings of a blissful sleep. The brunette took a deep breath, preparing to speak and inevitably ask what all of this means now— he was always the more anxious of the three— when the blond patted around his cheek with his hand before eventually landing across his mouth. He quietly shushed the brown eyed Slytherin, smiling in happiness and whispering against the tuft of your hair tickling his nose.

“Quiet, we’ll talk about it tomorrow. Just sleep now.”

Sebastian thought for a moment before shrugging against your back, tucking himself closer to his two best friends and digging deeper under the soft covers, a soft smile dancing at the corners of his mouth. Ominis closed his eyes, a fullness filling his chest and sending butterflies into his stomach. Yes, they would all talk about it tomorrow, and inevitably admit the feelings that they had been most definitely harboring for the others in their trio for a long while. But for now, the three students were lulled into a gentle sleep, the sounds of each other's heartbeats filling their ears and becoming the sweetest lullaby each of you had ever heard.

***

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fanfic-wonderland · 6 months

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This Is War {Fred Weasley}

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Slytherin loses the Quidditch Cup to Gryffindor, (Y/N) decides to get back at them... and at Fred Weasley.

Word count: 5.3k

Read part two here.

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"Look at them," Draco glowers at the group of people flying around the other side above the pitch, moving to stand right across from us. All of them are wearing matching red and gold uniforms, a very distinctive contrast to our (better-looking) green and silver ones. "They think they have a chance against us just because Potter is their Seeker. If you ask me, I've seen Flobberworms moving around faster than him."

The rest of the team laughs. I have the sudden urge to point out the many times Harry's beaten Draco in the past, just to shut them up, but I choose to keep it to myself. After all, we're on the same team, even if I often don't agree with my teammates. Besides, I would never hear the end of it, and the last thing I'd want to do when I'm so close to graduating is to get in trouble with Lucius Malfoy because his son is a whiny baby.

I keep observing the opposite team. All of them have gathered around in their own little broom circle, listening to what one of the three girls is saying. I spot Harry Potter with his back facing us while Ron Weasley stands beside him, looking defeated already.

And standing next to him are his older identical twin brothers. The worst of them all, by far. Those two are just so hard to like. They're careless, and reckless, and love to waste their time coming up with useless little experiments. They specifically have taken quite a liking to pulling pranks on us Slytherins daily, and frankly, It's become very annoying.

Three nights ago, in fact, the Weasley twins and a few other Gryffindors took it too far when they decided to bombard our entire Common Room —and our dorms— with Dungbombs. And three nights later, we're still mad. How they managed to sneak past us and plant all those bombs remains a mystery, but one thing is for sure: they've declared war and we are not backing down. "I'd love nothing more than to see their faces when we win that Quidditch Cup," Adrian Pucey says next to me. "It'd be the perfect way to get back at them for their little prank last time."

The rest of us mutter in agreement. "Well, if we want to do that, then we have to play perfectly today. Considering It's the final game and all," I point out. "That means we can't let them score too many points or catch the Snitch. And that means you'll have to be extra quick today, Draco."

He shoots me a nasty look as if he's disgusted by the fact that I'm telling him what to do. "Thank you for sharing that with us, (Y/L/N)," Graham Montague adverts his attention from Gryffindor and turns to me, the same look on his face. "Unfortunately, I don't remember making you our Co-Captain, so you might want to keep any comments or useless observations to yourself."

I hear snickering behind me but I do not turn around. Being the only girl on the team definitely comes with its cons. Sexism, for example. "I'm certainly doing a better job than our current Captain," I mutter quietly while rolling my eyes.

Down at the pitch, Madam Hooch steps into the center of the field, next to a brown trunk, and blows her whistle, which is somehow heard over the loud cheering from the crowd. Both teams fly closer to each other. Gryffindor shoots daggers at us and, as I take a long look at all of them, I find one of the twins staring directly at me. They're identical but, because of their little 'history' of messing with me and my fellow classmates, I can tell them apart almost naturally. I don't know if that's a good thing or not.

I can tell immediately that it is Fred Weasley who is smiling mockingly at me and a wave of rage runs through me.

Of course, It's Fred. I've discovered throughout the years that, even though both twins are bad enough on their own, Fred is by far the worst of the pair. While George can sometimes know when to stop, Fred does not care nearly as much about crossing the line. I glare at him, hard enough to get him to look away first, but his smile only grows bigger and he winks at me. I finally break eye contact, but only because I want all of my focus to be on the game and not wasted on someone so immature as him.

Once everyone is set, Madam Hooch opens up the trunk and the two Bludgers shoot into the sky, quickly followed by the Golden Snitch. Then, as soon as the Quaffle finally shoots free, the game starts.

It feels like a long match, like an endless cat-and-mouse game as both teams try and catch up to each other. For the longest time, It's a close call between scores, which makes all players —and the public— tense. Lee Jordan's commentary is all over the place throughout the game; one minute, he's excited when Gryffindor is in the lead, and then the next one he's accusing Slytherin of cheating when we take it (which most of the time ends up being true, but I look past it). Despite this, we put up a fairly good fight, and for the first time in so long, it feels like the Quidditch Cup is finally ours.

Unfortunately, we don't put up a good enough fight.

I'm too busy avoiding Bludgers and trying to take the Quaffle away from the opposite team that I nearly jump from my broom when I hear the whistle blowing again. Confused, I halt my flight and look around. I quickly spot Draco in the distance, running a hand through his hair in frustration, and I immediately know what happened.

Harry caught the Snitch. Again.

"Gryffindor wins!" Madam Hooch announces.

A loud wave of cheers erupts from the Gryffindors in the crowd, hugging each other and jumping excitedly at their victory. I groan as the rest of the opposite team lands back on the ground to go and congratulate Harry for the catch. I watch as they smile and pump fists into the air, and I shake my head in disappointment. I really thought we were going to win this time. "Well, I guess we're still the best team, huh?" A voice says and I turn to look at the person.

Fred is the only Gryffindor still mounting a broom, and he doesn't seem to be in any rush to join his teammates. He leans back effortlessly as if he's lying on a couch, with his hands behind his head. I scowl at him. "Shouldn't you be down there celebrating your victory, then, instead of bothering me?"

He shrugs. "I'd much rather be here, watching your defeat from up close."

My nostrils flare and if I had my wand I'd hex him here and there. "Aww, but don't worry," He fake pouts. "There'll be plenty of opportunities to try and win in the next few years. Too bad you won't be here to see it."

He finally flies away with that stupid smug look on his face and it takes everything in me not to throw a Bludger at his head. I try to ignore the fact that his words struck a nerve because he's right. This was my last chance to help win the Quidditch Cup for Slytherin and now It's gone. I missed it.

Shaking the thoughts away, I go to join my sulking teammates, who are all gathering around Draco. "I almost had it. I even touched it with the tip of my fingers," He's saying when I arrive. I have a feeling that that is not at all true. "But then Potter had to come in and ruin everything. I bet that broom of his was charmed with super speed or something."

No one says anything about it. I know they're upset about losing but they would never dare blame Draco for it. "We were so close, though," says Cassius Warrington in a frustrated tone.

"Yeah, and now we've got to think of another way to get back at them," Adrian adds.

As I watch the other team still celebrating, a light bulb turns on above my head. "Don't worry, guys," I reassure them. My wicked smile brings them a sort of comfort. "I think I have a plan to get them back."

***

"Okay, but why do I have to get dragged into this?" Daphne Greengrass, my puzzled best friend, asks as we step out of our dorm and into the dark hallway. "I don't have any beef with Gryffindor, that's your thing."

"Right, but, aside from myself, you're the only person that I trust to do this job," I tell her, quickening my steps down the stairs. "And you're way more tolerable than the others."

"Gee, thanks for that,"

"Plus, the Slytherin team is around the castle keeping watch of any Professors or Prefects or Filch," I add. "And Draco and Blaise have to get the two Gryffindor girls, so we're stuck with the most important task, and we have to do it right."

"Because of course, we are," Daphne rolls her eyes.

"Did you bring the secret ingredients?"

She reaches into her bag and takes out two clear bottles, one with a dark purple liquid in it and the other one with something that almost looks like mud. I smile delightedly. "You have no idea how happy I am that you just happened to have Sleeping Draught and Polyjuice Potion lying around the dorm."

"That's funny because back then, I remember you said that me brewing potions for fun was 'a bit pointless if you have to wait so long to brew them'" Daphne recalls.

I clear my throat uncomfortably. "I do apologize for that. I will never doubt you again."

The plan is simple.

Gryffindor is currently having a party to celebrate their victory at their Common Room. Draco and Blaise Zabini have written a letter addressed to Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, probably the easiest targets we could get, asking them to meet Michael Corner and Cormac McLaggen at the Courtyard. Pansy Parkinson will charm said letter to fly to the girls; once they get it, Draco and Blaise will put them to sleep, take a strand of hair from each of them, and bring it back to us. We mix the hair with our potion servings, drink the potion, and once we transform we sneak into the Common Room and add a (lot) bit of Sleeping Draught into the drinks. When we've made sure that everyone in the room fell into a deep slumber, we take the Quidditch Cup from them and they'll wake up in the morning with no idea of what happened. It'll look like everyone was just blackout drunk and they lost the Cup because of their irresponsibility.

It's a great plan if you ask me.

"I do have a question, though," Daphne stops walking once we make it to our own Common Room. "Don't we need the password to get into their Common Room?"

I grin and reach into my pocket, holding out a piece of paper in front of her. 'Mimbulus mimbletonia', it reads. "I stole it from that Longbottom kid in Transfiguration earlier," I say. "At first, I figured we'd rely on luck and wait until someone came around to help us, but it was much easier to just take the password from him. Plus, it saves us time."

"Huh," Daphne takes a seat on the nearest chair and folds her arms, impressed. "Good thinking. So, when are Draco and Blaise coming?"

"I'd say they should be here—"

Before I finish my sentence, and as if they've heard us talking about them, the Common Room door opens and both boys walk toward us with triumphant looks on their faces. Draco holds up the small pouch in his hand. "We got them."

"Oh, good," I sigh in relief as they hold out their pouches to us. I take the one in Draco's hand and Daphne takes the other one. I open mine up and a few long dark hairs come out. I can immediately tell that it is Parvati's. "Good job, guys. Daphne?"

She takes out two cups from her bag and hands one to me. Once I take it, she pours the muddy liquid into mine and then onto hers. I glance down at my cup, grimacing when I notice It's bubbling in the most disgusting way. I turn back at Daphne before I can start feeling nauseous. "Ready?"

She gulps, also eyeing her potion, then gives a slow nod.

We each throw our hair into the liquid, which completely consumes it until it is not visible anymore. A few moments pass and my potion begins to shift colors. The muddy brown is completely gone, replaced by a shocking pink that nearly blinds me. I look up at Daphne's portion and hers has turned into... well, lavender. "You don't happen to have an idea of how much these will last, do you?" I ask her.

Daphne smiles weakly. "One can never really tell, am I right?" She raises her glass in front of me. "Bottoms up!"

We both chug down our potion at once. Mine tastes... okay. I don't know why I expected it to taste like shit but It's sweet, although not overpowering. Daphne's doesn't seem to taste too bad, either, seeing as she drinks it with ease.

The bad part comes right after.

I've never consumed Polyjuice Potion before this so I'm not sure exactly what to expect, but I've heard the transformation process is extremely unpleasant so I'm not expecting something good. Once it finally starts, I let go of my cup and I'm crouching on the floor in less than 10 seconds. My insides feel like they're twisting and turning into irreparable knots, and my skin feels like It's burning. I hear Daphne moaning in pain but I don't look up at her. My eyes are glued to the bubbles forming in my hands and arms. I nearly begin to panic but I try to remain calm as my skin begins to darken, my fingers shrinking a bit and turning slightly thinner. A long dark hood begins to take over my vision while I'm still crouched, and it takes me a moment to realize that It's just my hair, which doesn't seem to stop growing. My robes suddenly begin to feel lighter than usual as my body takes the shape of Parvati. The pain stops as suddenly as it started and it leaves me trying to catch my breath. I try to stand up straight again, catching sight of Draco and Blaise's faces first. Both of them look like they've seen a ghost for a moment before their expressions shift into amusement. "Whoa," Blaise mutters. "That was terrifying to watch. But you guys look exactly like them."

I don't say anything as I turn to find Daphne again, but I'm met with Lavender Brown staring at me with wide eyes instead. We both gasp, frozen in our spots. To anyone else, she wouldn't look any different than the real Lavender, but I still find a bit of Daphne in the way she stares at me. "Oh Merlin," she tilts her head. "This is terrifying."

"Tell me about it," I agree while I take one last look at my hands. I grab my hair; It's so long that I have no idea what to do with it. I've never had it this long so it does sort of feel heavy.

"Yes, yes, It's all very impressive," Draco says in a dismissive manner. "But we still have other important things to do."

Even though I hate that he has to be such an asshole all the time, he's right. We cannot lose sight of what's important.

So, Daphne and I go to change clothes and then head to the Gryffindor Tower. It feels like a marathon but we finally stop in front of the Fat Lady's portrait. She eyes us carefully and for a moment I begin to think that she's onto us. I try not to look suspicious and I can sense Daphne doing the same next to me. "Password?"

"Mimbulus mimbletonia." I say without stuttering, trying to seem casual and like It's not my first time sneaking into Gryffindor's Common Room.

She nods and the portrait slowly opens. I almost let out a sigh of relief as we walk in but I'm stopped by the sight of the Common Room. I've never been here before but It's hard to take it all in when there are so many students in it at the same time. Nonetheless, I can tell that It's so much different than Slytherin's Common Room, and not in a good way.

"Okay," Daphne says, but It's barely audible through the loud music playing. "We're here now, there's no turning back. Do you see the drinks anywhere?"

I scan the room a bit longer. I spot the music box in a corner, next to a couple making out against the wall; I spot the Quidditch Cup exhibited on a clear shelf, next to Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley who are talking on the other side of the room; and I do see many people holding cups, which means that we'll probably have to go around slipping Sleeping Draught in all of them.

I finally catch a glimpse of a long table with different kinds of snacks and—

"I see something!" I tell her excitedly and I point to the table, where there are also two huge bowls filled with red and gold liquid, probably charmed to look that way.

Daphne smiles in satisfaction. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Wait," I stop her. "I think we have to split up."

"Huh?"

"There are people drinking already so maybe you could try and slip some Draught in their drinks while I try to slip it into the bowls first?" I suggest.

She nods. "Right. I'll start on the left side of the room, then."

We divide the potion and part ways, and I start making my way through the crowd until I can't see her anymore. A few people say hi to me and, even though I don't know much about Parvati Patil, I try to act how I've seen her act— bright, outgoing, and a little bit annoying. Luckily, though, no one stops to make conversation so I make an easy escape until I finally reach the table.

I take out the cup that Daphne gave me and I discreetly begin to pour the purple liquid into the cup. Fortunately, it does not change colors. "I see what you're doing," a voice says from behind me and I almost drop the cup.

I turn around, trying to act normal, and then I see that the person talking is none other than Fred Weasley. Out of all people. "What?"

He grins. "You're spiking the punch even more, aren't you? I didn't know you were such a party animal, Parvati."

I almost forget that I look like a whole different person right now. I chuckle and raise my arms. "You're right. You caught me."

"Well, don't let me stop you. Go on ahead. It'll definitely make things a lot more fun around here." Fred winks at me before he walks away and I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding.

Aside from that small incident, I don't bump into anyone else. Everyone's already too drunk out of their minds to notice me. It makes it easier for me to slip more Sleeping Draught into people's drinks, and I keep doing it until I find Daphne again and we're certain that we've got everyone. "And now we just wait."

***

It doesn't take long for everyone but Daphne and I to start collapsing from sleep. In fact, it happens very quickly.

Daphne and I are giggling like maniacs as we tiptoe around until we're in front of the silver Quidditch Cup, admiring its beauty for a moment. "I can't believe we actually pulled this off," Daphne says under her breath, her eyes glowing. "We're so cool."

"Told you we could do it," I nudge her side. "Now for the final act..."

I take it in my hands. It feels heavier than I expected but it feels so good to hold it. "What a beauty," I keep admiring it until I'm brought back to my senses. "Okay, now let's get out of here."

We finally make it out of the Common Room and it feels like we've been liberated. Our surroundings begin to feel familiar again. "I'll go let the others know that we have the Cup," Daphne announces excitedly.

"Good idea," I tell her. "I'll go take this to the dungeons."

She nods and we part ways once again. I try to hide the Cup in my bag as much as I can but It's so big that the top part still sticks out, but it will have to do.

If the path to the Gryffindor Tower felt long, this time it feels eternal, especially when the tension of being caught follows me around. I have to be extra careful this time; if anyone sees me I'll get in huge trouble and I don't even want to begin thinking about that. So I have to sneak around and be very aware of my surroundings if I want this to go as planned. It's all up to me now.

When I'm finally sure that I'm outside of the public eye, I turn a corner and let out a shriek as I almost come face-to-face with a tall figure. And of course, It's Fred Weasley again.

Wait...

"H-hey, Fred!" I smile brightly at him. Maybe it comes off a bit too forced but oh well. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to check up on you and Lavender, since you guys left in such a hurry," His eyes find my bag and my stomach drops. "What are you doing with the Quidditch Cup?"

"I'm..." I try to think fast but without looking suspicious, and then I realize that I'm most certainly failing at it. "I was just on my way to polish it! And then I was going to bring it back later."

"Were you?" Fred raises an eyebrow and steps closer.

I nod. "Of course! What, you think I'm stealing it or something?"

He's practically hovering over me now and I have to crane my neck to look up at him. He extends a hand out to me. "Why don't you let me help you, then?"

"I'm sure you're probably busy—"

"I have nothing on my schedule right now." He cuts me off. His gaze makes me feel like a criminal. "I'd love to help out."

I shrug. "It shouldn't be too much work, I can do it on my own, really—"

Suddenly, my back is pressed against the stone wall and I'm caged in between both of his arms. I yelp in surprise. Fred's face is awfully close to mine and he's staring at me as if he's trying to figure out my identity. My true identity. "You're not the real Parvati, are you?"

I swallow hard and do the first thing that comes to mind: I take out my wand from my back pocket and point it at him. "Flipendo!"

A yellow light surges out of the tip of my wand and knocks Fred back and away from me. As soon as his back meets the ground I make a run for it.

I have no idea where I'm heading, my vision is far too clouded right now, but I do not look back and I do not stop running. I've forgotten all about being discreet and I've stopped worrying about getting caught by someone else. I'm already in enough trouble as it is.

My feet guide me outside of the castle, and I know that if anyone finds out I'll get detention for at least 2 months, but I don't care as I keep moving. My stomach begins to turn in that weird way again all of a sudden. "Oh no, please, not now," I beg.

Despite the uncomfortable feeling, I'm still running until I reach the dock at the Great Lake. It's barely visible and the water is so dark that it looks like a huge void, but at least no one can see me here. The pain continues for a few moments, and when it finally stops I look at my hands. They look like my hands again. I reach to touch my hair and realize It's not nearly as long anymore. Even if it didn't last long, it feels good to be back to my old self.

"There you are,"

Crap.

I turn slowly to look at Fred, who apparently does not know to mind his own bloody business. His eyes widen in surprise once he sees me but then he shakes his head and smirks. "Well, hello there. I never thought that, out of all people, you would try and pull off something like this," I remain quiet. "I believe you have something that belongs to us." He takes a step closer.

I pretend to ponder. "No, I don't think I do. I think you have the wrong person."

"Oh, silly me, right? I thought you looked different back there," He says then takes out his own wand. "Accio Quidditch Cup!"

The Cup suddenly flies out of the bag, all the way into Fred's hands.

"Give it to me," I run towards him and try to yank the cup from his hands. Unfortunately for me, his grip is way stronger than mine. He raises it above his head, which, given our very distinctive height difference, is impossible for me to reach. I jump while extending my arm as high as possible, but It's useless. He's still looking down at me like I'm an annoying toddler wanting to get his attention. "Weasley!"

"Sorry," He shrugs. "Finder's keepers."

Grumbling curses at him under my breath, I reach for my wand and point it at the cup, using the same Summoning Charm as him. As soon as the cup is back in my hands, I run for it. I hear Fred shouting my name behind me, but I don't turn back. I'm laughing like a maniac as I run to the opposite side when I'm suddenly stopped in my tracks. For a second, I cannot move. It's like an invisible force is restricting my entire body. And then I'm yanked back by said force until I'm back in my previous spot, right in front of Fred. He snatches the cup from me and grins. "Thank you, kind lady. Oh, and I'll be taking this, too."

He snatches my wand from my hand and begins to run away. My first instinct is to jump on his back, ignoring his protests as I try to reach for my wand first. He manages to shake me off before I can do so, but I don't give up. I'm still trying to reach for him, for anything, but between all that wrestling, I slip from the dock and fall into the freezing water. When I emerge, my whole body is shivering and my teeth are chattering uncontrollably. I look back at the dock and Fred is still standing there, his mouth open as he stares at me in shock. And then he bursts out laughing. "You'll p-pay for this!" I shout at him but he just keeps laughing.

I hear something behind me— it almost sounds like a waterfall. But as I turn around I don't see anything of the sort.

Instead, I see a tentacle. A huge tentacle coming at me from the water.

The color drains from my face, I'm sure, and I let out a loud scream. I scream so loud that I don't hear anything else. I think Fred is shouting something, and I'm not sure if It's at me or at the giant squid, but I don't find out. I shut my eyes close but my body is frozen in place. I can't move. It might be the fear, it might be the cold, it might even be both, but I can't move a muscle.

What a terrible way to die this is.

"(Y/N)," Fred calls from the dock but I can barely hear him. My heartbeats are too fast and too loud. "It's okay, It's gone! Just swim back to shore."

I'm too busy hyperventilating to listen to him. I was just face-to-face with a giant squid— a bloody giant squid. My mind is not processing anything at the moment and all I can feel is panic, still.

I hear a splash of water nearby and a pair of arms suddenly sneak around me below the water. A small gasp escapes my lips as Fred's face appears right of mine. As if by instinct, I wrap my arms around his neck. It's the closest we've ever been. "Look at me," he says but I don't need him to. I'm already getting lost in the soothingness of his eyes. "You're okay. Nothing or no one will hurt you as long as I'm here, okay?"

I nod wordlessly. I'm still shaking uncontrollably and I probably look like a mess right now. "I'm going to get us back to shore now," He informs carefully. "Is that okay with you?"

"Y-yes, please."

As soon as I give him the green light, he picks me up bridal style and begins to swim back to shore.

We get to land safe and sound, just as he had promised. I feel a huge sense of relief the moment my feet touch land, but my arms do not let go of him and his hands are still on my waist. When I turn to face him, he's already looking down at me. "See?" he says with a chuckle. His voice is soft and comforting. "It's all good now. You have nothing to worry about."

For a moment, I seem to forget that the boy standing in front of me is the boy that I've hated for all these years. I forget all the pranks he pulled on me and my housemates, all the times he enraged and mocked me. I forget about all of that and I don't know what comes over me but I lean up and I kiss him.

I can tell that Fred is surprised by how he freezes as soon as our lips touch, but once he composes himself, he responds. He pulls me closer and tightens his grip around me, which is probably the moment that I start losing my grip on reality. A wave of warmth washes through me and it feels... nice. Especially after going out for a midnight swim. His lips feel soft against mine and It's nearly impossible to stay away from them. My hands grip his hair and he lets out a low grunt against my mouth. The sound is sinful. It makes me want more of him.

We pull away after a while, though, and none of us say anything. My eyes flutter open almost at the same time as his, and for a moment It's like a sort of dream where nothing is real.

But of course, he has to ruin it.

"Wow," Fred's dazed smile widens. "What a nice way to say 'Thank you for saving my life'."

I blink a few times and it takes a moment to snap out of my trance, and when I do I am mortified. When I finally come to all my senses, I unwrap my arms from his neck and push him away. As soon as he lets go, I start to look for my wand. I finally find it lying next to the Cup but I don't even bother to grab that. It was a mistake to even try and steal it. It has already caused way too much unnecessary drama.

Plus, I just kissed Fred fucking Weasley.

My clothes are sticking to my skin and I'm still dripping from head to toe, which just adds to my distress, but I don't let it stop me as I run back to the castle. I hear Fred calling after me but I don't turn to look back at him. I am way too embarrassed and frustrated at myself to do so.

#fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #writing #imagine your ocs #writers on tumblr #fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred weasely x y/n #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley scenario

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ellaenchanting · 1 month

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WHAT IS MINDFULNESS VS HYPNOSIS ACCORDING TO ELLA ENCHANTING (haver of opinions)

One misconception that I often hear amongst hypnosis geeks is that "mindfulness" is basically a normie-safe word for "hypnosis"- that hypnosis and mindfulness practices are essentially the same thing.

This is a hard misconception to disprove- in fact, "hypnosis" and "mindfulness" are often defined really vaguely and in different ways by different people so- they could often very well be refering to the same thing!* I know when I first learned about mindfulness practices, I dismissed them as "just" repackaged hypnotherapy- something I already knew a lot about. However, in doing so, I was neglecting ideas that turned out to be a really useful self-improvement tools.

If you're of a similar mindset, drawing a distinction between the two may also be really helpful for you.

MINDFULNESS:

So, the end goal of mindfulness is learning a kind of grounded way to self reflect. It's a potentially really helpful skill for people who get caught in thought spirals** or overwhelming emotions. A big goal for people learning the skill is to be able to observe thoughts and emotions without entirely buying into them OR dismissing them. Let's say I have a train of thought that keeps looping in my head- I'm worried about something stupid I said yesterday at work, for example. Imagine that train of thought is an ACTUAL train- maybe a toy train running on a looped track. Normally, when you're having the work worries it's like you're on that thought train- riding it around and around in circles while you're getting increasingly anxious and kind of limiting yourself from doing other things. With mindfulness practice, the goal is to get you OFF the train- it's not gone, but you're kinda watching it from the sidelines instead of ON it. It's still happening but with a bit of distance you can see the thoughts more clearly and better take care of yourself while that thought track is running.

Another example- let's say I have a big feeling. I'm going to pick overwhelming shame***. In mindfulness practices, the goal is usually not to ignore the shame or entirely give into it but to be able to sit with it and understand it without DROWNING in it. So, in that state of mind, I might sit with the shame and kind of question why it's there and what it wants from me. I might find some kindness for myself as someone who is experiencing shame (which is harder to do when I'm more inside it). I might work to conceptualize the shame differently- what does it look like, what sounds does it make, etc. In that way, I'm paying attention to an emotion that might be helpful- but not overly giving into it.

If I were teaching someone mindfulness techniques, the goal there is for them to be able to use the techniques entirely on their own whenever they need to. I'm not really trying to overly influence or control what's happening for them- I'm keeping my language as permissive as possible and encouraging them to accept whatever comes up. "Notice what's there without feeling like you need to change it" is a common mindfulness instruction. The practice encourages curiosity and bravery in the face of the overwhelming STUFF of life.

HYPNOSIS:

There are lot of different ways people do and experience hypnosis- and I'm definitely not going to be able to address all of them here. But, at least in kink, my goal in hypnotizing someone is to directly influence their thoughts. In fact, when I'm hypnotizing someone, a lot of my "induction" is convincing someone that I'm already in their head- that they're responding automatically to my suggestions. There's the kinky control fun of that and also the mutual shared feeling of intimacy- we're so close we could be one. (Or, in more D/s-ey terms, we're so close that now you are an extension of me!) In 101 classes you'll learn about the pacing and leading technique- basically matching your subject's experience and then taking them a step further. (Ex. You're reading my words and focusing on the screen and that reminds you to take a deep breath NOW.)

Explaining it by cold control hypnosis theory****, during an induction I'm helping someone kind of flip OFF their awareness of their agency- creating the illusion that things are happening internally because I'm MAKING them happen (and disguising the part where they're in complete control of their actions).

Especially in kink, what we're doing in hypnosis play is often a really conscious power exchange. You're giving me power over your thoughts because you want me to have it. I direct them where I want them to go and away from where I don't want them to be (ex. the actual reason why you're relaxing is, in part, because that's a natural thing that happens for most people when they close their eyes for more than a few seconds). (That's an excellent babysitting/parenting pro tip from me to you btw.) It's not that subjects aren't actively contributing their own images/ideas/metaphors/desires to the suggestions and play (really often they are!) but usually their whole goal is to be directed.

Even in hypnotherapy, that directedness and control is implied. You're not coming on (nearly) as strong as you would in kink, but your goal there is usually more in direction (with teaching self hypnosis techniques as an added bonus).

Sometimes the hypnosis and mindfulness methodologies can be incredibly similar with really subtle differences! For example, I might start a mindfulness-teaching body scan in the same way that I might start a progressive muscle relaxation induction- "Go ahead and get into a comfortable position and close your eyes". But continuing with the hypnosis induction, I'll usually be more directive ("Notice your feet. As you're noticing them, imagine sending a wave of relaxation down to your toes.") whereas with the body scan I'll be more exploratory. ("Notice your feet. What do they feel like? Are they hot or cold? Do they want to move or stay still? Whatever is happening for them right now is fine- just notice them") The pmr induction is intended to move someone into a suggestible state, the body scan is intended to teach someone a particular mindset and focusing skill they can use later. *****

Like I stated before, things that I consider "hypnosis" ideas and techniques and "mindfulness" ideas and techniques get mixed up all the time- with both lay folks and the actual professionals who teach them. There's a lot of surface similarities. "Mindfulness" has become such a therapy and corporate buzzword that it often DOES become synonymous with things like guided relaxation. Both concepts are vague enough that there's a lot of things that can easily be either/or- I'm thinking self hypnosis specifically here******. But- I hope if you're curious about mindfulness at all, you'll find this explanation useful and will maybe go out and explore some helpful resources for yourself.

Good mindfulness 101 books:

Full Catastrophe Living- Jon Kabat Zinn

The Mindful Way Through Depression- J. Mark G Williams et all

Just an FYI here at the bottom- like all self-help techniques, mindfulness stuff can be extremely helpful to some and not at all helpful to others. If it hasn't been personally helpful to you that's fine! I hope you've found some other things that are. Also, you can feel free to take my self help advice just as seriously as you would of any other kinky fetish blogger. :p I'm not your therapist, feel free to check in with them about things that might help you.

*I think people expanding the definition and ideas around both of these can be really helpful, in fact!

**Of the not-fun kind

***You know, like I normally do

****One of many hypnosis theories! And often not the best one for kink! If hypnosis doesn't feel like this for you, that's perfectly ok!

*****OK, in actuality both probably do both things! But the emphasis is different.

******A big difference in my mind- if you discover pain or discomfort, hypnosis-style techniques are usually directing you away from that while mindfulness-style techniques are usually directing you towards curiousity about those things.

#mindfulness #hypnosis #hot takes #I'm a bit pedantic on this one #but that’s because I think mindfuless can truly be helpful #just takes some practice to learn #curious to hear any thoughts people have!

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my-proof-is-you · 1 month

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We Can’t Be Friends

Sam x Reader One Shot based on this request!

Summary: You can’t be around someone who broke your heart. You just can’t be friends.

A/N: This is a super long one shot. Sorry, not sorry :)

You

Your lips were inches from each other. You could feel Sam’s breath on your face, Your eyes were closed, the anticipation of the moment you’d dreamed of for so long killing you.

Suddenly, you felt his presence gone. You opened your eyes, Sam had stepped back, his hand running through his hair.

“We can’t do this, Y/N,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut.

”W-What?” You questioned.

“We can’t be together. It would never work—it’s too risky. You know that.”

You opened your mouth to argue but no words came out. He wasn’t wrong. Hunters dating each other was rough. There was always something out there that could use you against each other. There was always the threat of losing the other person on a hunt. Young death was common. Getting involved with each other would just make it more painful.

You wanted to scream at him that you could make it work. You wanted to beg him to give it a try.

But all you did was nod. You swallowed, willing the tears stinging at your eyes to go away.

Sam nodded back, also at a loss for words. He turned, heading down the hallway to his room. When you heard his door close, you finally let the tears fall.

Three Weeks Later

You

Your sharp hearing alerted you to someone other than Sam or Dean entering the kitchen. Your back was to the entryway as you had been filling your coffee mug. It was six in the morning, and even Sam who was an early riser was never up that early.

Besides, you knew what the boys sounded like. They had very distinct sounds to their steps—individual ways of breathing that you knew like the back of your hand.

This person was not Sam or Dean.

You pulled your gun from your waistband and spun around instantly, training your firearm on the intruder.

The woman raised her hands in surrender instantly, a look of confusion on her face. She looked to be about your age. She had long, straight blonde hair, and doe-like eyes that were a bright shade of blue. Her long legs seemed to stretch on forever in the pair of boxer shorts she wore that were rolled up at the waist. She had a white ribbed tank top on with a flannel thrown over it.

“There is no good way to enter a room that contains a hunter when they’re not expecting you,” she said, her hands still raised and a small smile on her face.

“Who are you?” You demanded, unflinching.

”I’m Danielle. I guess Sam didn’t warn you I was here.”

”You expect me to believe you were invited here?” You had a hard time believing Sam had just “forgotten” to tell you about a guest.

”Well, it was kinda last minute…” she trailed off. You studied her awkward expression before realization hit you. She wasn’t just wearing a flannel and boxers. She was wearing one of Sam’s flannels. You weren’t sure about the boxers, but you had a pretty good guess as to who they belonged to.

A sharp pain shot straight through you as you realized what that meant. This woman had spent the night.

”Oh,” you said lamely. You lowered your gun.

“Whoa, Y/N, what’s goin’ on?” Dean asked, coming into the kitchen behind Danielle. “We don’t wanna scare off any chicks that actually like my brother,” he joked.

Dean hadn’t known about what happened between you and Sam a few weeks before. You were pretty sure he knew about your feelings for his brother, but you hadn’t told him about your near-relationship. So to Dean, Sam having a girl stay overnight was just business as usual.

He didn’t know it was making you bite the inside of your cheek so hard it bled.

“Sorry about that,” you mumbled. She put her hands down as you put your gun back in your waistband. You turned to Dean. ”You knew she was here?”

”Yeah, Sammy texted me last night. He didn’t tell you?” Dean asked, confused.

You feigned nonchalance. “Must’ve forgot,” you shrugged.

“Huh. Well, Y/N, Danielle’s here,” he said, giving your shoulder a small shove as he went to get himself a cup of coffee.

You realized that regardless of your feelings for Sam, you were being rude.

“I’m sorry. I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Danielle,” you said, striding over to her and reaching out a hand. She shook it, smiling.

”It’s no problem, Y/N. I would have done the same thing,” she said with a chuckle.

”You’re a hunter too, I take it?” You asked, handing her the mug meant for you and going back to get coffee for yourself again. She sat down at the table and you sat across from her, trying your best to hide your shock at her mere presence.

One-night-stands weren’t new to you. All three of you had them now and again. You just weren’t expecting Sam to have one so soon after your…incident.

“Yeah, I met Sam at a shifter case nearby. We got a drink to celebrate when it was over and…well, here I am.”

You smiled lightly as Dean came to sit next to you. You could feel how forced it was, and by the way you could feel his eyes on you, Dean knew, too.

You spent the next ten minutes getting to know Danielle with Dean before Sam finally stumbled into the kitchen.

“Well, look who decided to show up,” Dean said. Sam didn’t seem that surprised that Danielle was still there. You watched him as he walked in and came to the table, leaning down and giving her a quick kiss. He turned and walked to the coffee pot, not once making eye contact with you.

”So what’s on the docket today?” Dean asked after taking a sip of his coffee. You were about to respond when Danielle spoke up.

”Well, Sammy and I are going to head up to Colorado for a werewolf case. Then we thought we’d rent a place up there, have a little mini ski vacation.”

Sammy.

We.

Vacation.

Realization smacked you in the face. Danielle wasn’t a one-night-stand.

Sam was dating her.

Sam

Sam dared a glance at you from behind his mug when Danielle finished speaking.

He saw realization, shock, and anger flit across your face at an amazing speed before it turned to a blank mask.

He was a dick, he knew that. He should have told you he was seeing someone.

He didn’t even really mean to be seeing someone. He’d met Danielle and had a great night of distraction with her. But when morning came, the gaping hole in his heart returned, and he couldn’t stand it. He needed more distraction.

Danielle was there. Danielle was sweet and beautiful. Danielle was interested in him.

Danielle wasn’t you, though.

Before he knew it, a couple of weeks had gone by and he had been calling her up fairly often. He couldn’t find it in himself to tell you, and it hadn’t mattered. But Danielle eventually wanted to see the infamous bunker. So he brought her home. Before telling you.

He knew you’d be pissed. You couldn’t hold it against him forever, though, could you? After all, you’d both agreed it was for the best that you don’t pursue a relationship.

As he watched your face return from blank to your normal easy-going one, he felt a little relief. Maybe you had moved on. Maybe it didn’t bother you that much.

Sam shook his head a little to clear it, listening back in on the conversation. He needed to focus on the upcoming hunt.

Your phone went to voicemail for the second time. Sam hung up, trying his brother instead.

”Yello?” Dean answered on the second ring.

”Is everything okay?” Sam asked.

”Yeah…why?”

”Where’s Y/N?”

”She’s right here, watching Dr. Sexy with me.”

Sam clenched his teeth and felt his jaw tick. You’d ignored his calls.

“Sammy?” Dean asked after Sam neglected to respond.

“Yeah, uh, nevermind. I was just checking in. Danielle and I finished the hunt. We’re gonna spend a couple days up here and then I’ll be home.”

”Alright, brother. Enjoy,” Dean said. Sam could almost hear his eyebrows wiggling. He rolled his eyes and hung up without responding.

“Everything okay?” Danielle asked, putting her arms around Sam’s neck from behind and placing her face against his. He swallowed, pushing aside his annoyance.

“Yep, all good.”

You

Dean hung up the phone and turned to look at you.

“What?” You asked, feigning innocence.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” He asked, eyeing you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huffed, turning back to the TV.

Dean snatched the remote from next to you, turning it off. “Bullshit. You’ve been weird the last two days. What is going on? Did you and Sam have a fight or something?”

“Or something,” you muttered.

“Y/N,” he said, staring you down.

“You know how I feel about him, right?” You asked with a sigh.

“Yeah,” he replied with a shrug.

”Well, that just makes it…hard to be around him right now. Or talk to him.”

Dean nodded slowly. “But, Y/N, this isn’t anything really new, is it?”

You let out a dry chuckle. “Well, it turns out my feelings aren’t so one-sided.”

”Well I coulda told you that,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Sam’s always been crazy about you.”

You nodded, pursing your lips. You gave him a minute to let what he was saying sink in.

“Wait, if you know you like each other, why aren’t you together?”

”Because dating when you’re a hunter is a bad idea,” you said flatly.

”But…Danielle’s a…” he trailed off. “Oh.”

”Yeah. Oh.”

”I’m so sorry, Y/N/N. I wouldn’t have been so easy-going about her being here if I’d known,” he said, his eyes shining with regret.

”Don’t worry about it, De. I just…I need some space from him. I don’t think I can be his friend right now.” You felt your face crumple a bit as the words left your mouth. You sniffled, and you saw Dean’s eyes flash with a protective anger.

”I’ll knock some sense into him,” he said, his jaw ticking.

“Dean, no. I’m a big girl. I don’t need you to beat up your brother for me,” you said with a chuckle. Dean really was your best friend outside of Sam, and you felt your heart swell a little at the thought of him siding with you over his own brother.

”Fine,” he sighed. “But Y/N, you say the word, and his ass is grass.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, Dean’s antics cheering you up a little. “Got it.”

It was a little harder to avoid Sam when he got back from his “mini-vacation.” He had clearly caught on to the fact that you didn’t want to hang out with him. Not that you were subtle.

Whenever Sam walked into a room you were in, you mumbled some excuse and left. You could see that it was bothering him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It’s not like he didn’t deserve it.

He’d tried to talk to you about it a couple of times. You’d been able to avoid the conversation.

Until now, that is.

”Y/N, stop.” He grasped your arm as you turned to leave the library. You’d come in from the kitchen and seen him there and immediately tried to escape. He was fast, though, and pulled you to a bookshelf, effectively cornering you.

You pulled your arm away from his hand as if he’d burned you.

“What, Sam?” You asked with very little patience.

”What do you mean, ‘what’? You’ve been avoiding me for the better part of a month,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, well, you’ve been busy,” you said, emphasizing the last word.

“I’ve been here almost every day,” he said, clearly not getting what you were saying. “Why don’t you want to hang out with me? I miss you.”

You almost softened your resolve when he said that. But the pain that creeped in when you remembered Danielle put the wall right back up. If he couldn’t see what he’d done, you weren’t going to explain it to him.

”It’s nothing, Sam. I’ve just been busy, too.” You met his eyes but made sure to keep yours blank. He searched them for a moment. “Can I go now?” You asked.

He nodded, a look of sadness on his face. You slipped past him and out of the library before you could change your mind.

A few more weeks went by and you could feel yourself becoming less and less like yourself. You continued to give Sam the cold shoulder, and it seemed he had given up trying to get you to talk, too. You spoke with him when it was essential for hunts, but rarely outside of that.

Danielle had been joining many of your hunts and hanging around the bunker a lot. It was painful to see them together, but she really was a nice girl and a great hunter. It wasn’t her fault you were heartbroken.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you heard Danielle wouldn’t be coming on the afternoon’s hunt. You were going to the next town over to take care of a vamp nest, which should have been quick and easy.

It wasn’t.

There were more vampires than any of you had thought. The three you killed easily were only a third of what the nest actually was. You each took on two more when they appeared. You could hear the sounds of Sam and Dean fighting theirs off as you lopped off the head of one of yours. The other one, though, got the jump on you. He threw you against the wall with unbelievable force, knocking the wind out of you.

You laid crumpled on the floor, trying to get your bearings. You had hit your head, and you reached back to feel the bump, your hand coming back red with blood. Your back was screaming, and you could tell you’d at least bruised a few ribs.

“Stupid girl,” the vampire said, closing in on you slowly. “You killed my family. That cannot stand.”

Your vision was becoming fuzzy around the edges, unconsciousness pulling at you. As the vamp leaned in, fangs bared, his eyes went wide just before his head was gone. It rolled to the floor and his body fell back with a loud thump on the floor.

“Y/N! Y/N, are you okay?” Sam shouted. He was kneeling down in front of you where the vampire had just been. He held your shoulders and you blinked hard, trying to get your vision to clear. It was useless, though, and you felt yourself go limp before darkness took over.

“Y/N. Y/N,” you heard as you opened your eyes. You blinked against the harsh light of the bunker’s kitchen. You were sat in a chair, Dean holding you up by your shoulders and lightly tapping your face.

”Y-Yeah,” you said, your head pounding. “I’m okay.”

”I’ll be the judge of that,” he replied. He checked you over and when you both agreed that you’d just been knocked out and probably had some bruised ribs, he gave you a glass of water and left to go shower. You were still sitting, and realized that Sam was leaning against the counter, staring at you.

“You scared me,” he said quietly.

You pursed your lips, shrugging. “I’m fine.”

”You’re not fine. We’re not fine,” he said, looking away and shaking his head.

“Sam, don’t,” you said. You stood up and took a moment to steady yourself.

“Just talk to me, Y/N!” He said, suddenly walking toward you.

”Why don’t you talk to your girlfriend, Sam?” You said, unable to hide the hurt from your voice.

Sam’s eye met yours, a look of regret taking over.

“I made a mistake,” he said quietly.

“You—you made a mistake.” You stated sarcastically.

“Yeah, Y/N. I made a mistake starting a relationship with Danielle. I still have feelings for you,” he said. He lifted a hand like he wanted to touch you, but dropped it when he saw the look on your face.

You felt the rage bubbling up inside as you held back the tears forming the best you could.

”What do you want me to say, Sam?” You said through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to feel sorry for you.”

He swallowed, his soulful eyes meeting yours.

“You did this to us, Sam. You chose to date her. You chose this.”

”We both agreed it was better not to try!” He argued.

“No, Sam. You said it was better. I only went along with it because it was what you wanted! And then you decided to try with her!” You sucked in a breath as the tears fell in an attempt to calm yourself. “She is a good person, Sam. She doesn’t deserve less than one-hundred percent of you.”

You stepped forward, gripping his hand. You brought your eyes up to his. “Be the good man I know you are. Be with her.” You squeezed his hand once before dropping it. You brushed past him and down the hall to your room. Closing the door, you collapsed onto your bed and let the sobs escape. Some time later, you felt the bed dip behind you. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in over your sobs. So much for your hunter ears.

You knew from the scent of whiskey, cologne, and motor oil that it was Dean, though. He put a hand on your shoulder and pulled you toward him, and you let him. You rested your head on his chest and gripped his shirt as you cried. He kept his arms around you and let you, shushing you and kissing the top of your head. After what felt like hours, you fell asleep surrounded by the comfort of your best friend.

Sam

It had been a few hours since he’d seen you or Dean, so Sam decided to go looking for you. After looking in all the common areas of the bunker, he carefully opened the door to your room.

Dean met his eyes from his spot leaning against the headboard of your bed and Sam slid his gaze down, taking in your sleeping form. He could see that the space around your eyes was puffy from crying. He took a deep breath in, letting it out in a pained sigh.

“She been asleep long?” He asked his brother.

Dean just shook his head. “She’s really out, though.”

”Dean—“

”Sam, I don’t want to hear it,” Dean said, cutting him off. “Whatever bullshit reason you have for doing what you did—for doing this,” he said, nodding toward you with his head, “I don’t want to hear it.”

Sam bit the inside of his cheek and looked away, feeling the tears stinging the back of his eyes.

”What am I supposed to do, man?” He asked his big brother, his voice breaking slightly. “I love her.”

Dean’s eyes softened. “You do what’s right. You do what you always should have.”

”I can’t lose her,” Sam said quietly. He worried for a second that Dean wouldn’t know if he meant Danielle or you.

“I get it,” Dean replied, and Sam wasn’t worried anymore. “But you have to decide what that means for you. Cause you can’t have it both ways.” He looked down at you again, effectively telling Sam that he was done talking.

Sam left your room, closing the door quietly behind him.

The right thing. He’d always tried to do the right thing. And look where it’d gotten him.

He knew what he was going to do, right or wrong be damned.

You

You’d woken at some point to Dean sliding out from under you and covering you with your comforter. You were already falling back asleep as he kissed your head and said, “Sleep, sweetheart.”

Now you woke again. Your phone on your nightstand told you it was 11 AM. You’d slept for twelve hours.

Everything from the night before came rushing back to you. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to calm yourself. Your head throbbed and your ribs ached as you got out of bed and made your way to the bathroom. You showered, the hot water stinging your head wound but soothing your sore muscles. You dressed in your leggings and a t-shirt before throwing one of Sam’s flannels over it. You may not have been his girlfriend—or even speaking to him—but you would be damned if you were going to give up the comfiest piece of clothing you’d stolen from him.

You padded down the hall to the kitchen, noticing how quiet the bunker was. You didn’t know where the brothers were, but decided not to worry about it before you’d even had some coffee.

You walked into the library, intent on sitting in one of the overstuffed leather chairs by the bookshelves. You stopped, though, when you saw Sam sitting at one of the tables. He wasn’t pouring over any old tomes or looking at his laptop like usual. He was just sitting there, staring at his hands. He looked up then, and you knew he’d been waiting for you.

”Sam, please, I can’t do this again,” you said, not wanting to argue with him.

He stood, walking to you in two long strides and taking your mug, setting it down on the table nearest to you. You watched him in confusion as he came back to stand in front of you.

“You said I was a good man, Y/N.” He grabbed each of your hands with his, his eyes never leaving yours. “But a good man wouldn’t have broken your heart.”

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes. “Sam—“

”Let me just say this, Y/N/N,” he said softly. You nodded for him to continue.

“I was trying to do the right thing when I said we shouldn’t be together. I thought it would just be too hard, and I didn’t want to lose you. But being without you created this—this hole in me. So I tried to fill it. I distracted myself with Danielle. I didn’t even really want to be in a relationship with her. It’s not like I forgot what I had just said about dating as hunters. But it was different with her. The stakes weren’t as high.”

You watched him as he continued, his grip on your hands staying firm.

”She only eased the ache for a little bit, though. It always came back. It came back because you are what I need.

”When you got hurt on the hunt yesterday, my heart nearly stopped. It didn’t matter that we aren’t together. Losing you would ruin me, whether we’re together or not.

“I broke up with Danielle this morning. Maybe that makes me a bad person. I don’t know. I don’t care, though. I’m so in love with you, Y/N. And I can’t go another minute without you in my life.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you could feel the tears leaking out of your eyes and down your cheeks. Sam lifted his hands to your face, his thumbs wiping the tears away.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he said when it was clear you were speechless. You nodded, finding it was the only thing you could manage at the moment.

Sam smiled lightly and leaned in, bringing his lips to yours. In that moment it was like you had found everything that had ever been missing in your life. You were whole again. You brought your hands up around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair. He moaned, wrapping one arm around your back and pulling you flush to him.

After a few moments he pulled away, his eyes searching yours. You realized you still hadn’t spoken.

You smiled. “You are a good person, Sam. And I love you, too.”

His face lit up and he pulled you back in for another kiss.

“Thank God,” you heard from the bottom of the stairs. Dean stood there holding a few takeout bags. “I couldn’t take any more of y’all’s drama.”

You rolled your eyes at your friend before turning back to Sam. “So, do you want to try this?” You asked cautiously.

”Try? No,” he replied. Your heart sank for a moment before he continued. “We’re doing this. You’re it for me, Y/N,” he said, placing a finger under your chin before bringing his lips to yours again.

You smiled as he pulled away. “Guess we’re friends again,” you joked.

“Nuh uh,” he said, pulling you close again. “You’re mine,” he whispered in your ear. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“Then show me,” you whispered back. Next thing you knew, Sam had thrown you over his shoulder and was marching down the hall.

“Guess I’ll see you guys later,” you heard Dean call with a chuckle.

And as Sam tossed you gently on his bed and crawled up, hovering over you, you knew that he finally got it.

Being together was worth the risk.

Forevers:@divadinag @lynne1993 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @onethirstyunicorn @sammykb1994 @lilulo-12 @mellorine-paprika @tranquility-or-chaos @collette04 @hoboal87 @chevyharvelle @miraclesoflove @defenderrosetyler @babypink224221 @calaofnoldor @beatifuldisaster018 @coffeebooksandfandom @supernatural3002 @lainxcas @mylovelydame21 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @lovely-lynns-likes @ppeachygemss @screechingartisancashbailiff @metalfangirl @vicmc624 @polina-93 @hobby27 @sexyvixen7 @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @lyarr24 @amelia-song-pond @donnaintx @spnbaby-67 @traceyaudette @gh0stgurl @fiftyshadesgrl @tapedeck-hearts @lacilou @foxyjwls007 @stoneyggirl2 @kr804573 @cumuluscranium

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visorforavisor · 1 year

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as an Irish (we don’t call it “Gaelic”, ever) speaker and a Sunny fan, I thought it would be fun to do a bit of a post about the Irish-language scene in The Gang’s Still in Ireland, because it’s not a scene I see widely discussed but I adore it.

some background. I am not a native Gaeilgeoir (Irish speaker) — my first language is English — but I started learning it age five and have always had very high grades in it and a huge love for it. I was hugely excited about Charlie Kelly being able to read Irish in the previous episode, and even more so when he turned out to be able to speak it.

Colm Meaney, the actor who plays Shelley Kelly, grew up in Ireland and as such would have learned Irish throughout his time in school. (this has been required by law more or less since Irish independence, and it was already quite common before that. nowadays, you can get exemptions for things like dyslexia but otherwise you have to do it.) this is clear in his ease with the language. (I will do a post about where in Ireland Shelley lives at some point, because there aren’t many areas where Irish is the principal language, but that is for another day!) both the actor and the character have easy and good Irish.

Charlie Day, as an Italian-American, obviously does not actually speak the language and presumably learned the lines as a bunch of gibberish sounds. (nonetheless, some of his pronunciations do suggest he had the words written down non-phonetically too.) his delivery of the lines is god damn amazing. Charlie Kelly’s Irish is not remotely American-accented. if I heard someone speaking Irish like that, I’d assume they sounded Irish when speaking English. he doesn’t even sound neutral in Irish; he does actively have an accent (the word choices are more non-regional, not pointing to any of the three distinct dialects, but this makes sense as the same is true of Shelley’s Irish). his pronunciation is so on point and his accent is seriously just a delight to listen to. that’s serious effort to have been put in by an American in a show that routinely makes fun of Irish-Americans! I cannot stress enough how cool it is to see my national language like this and how good a job he does.

as a side note, Charlie Kelly finding Irish much easier to read than English makes total sense! he clearly has dyslexia, as well as intellectual disabilities and autism, so literacy being tricky is totally fair, but is probably being made worse in English by how much of a god damn ridiculous illogical irregular mess the language is. English has around two hundred irregular verbs, and that’s before we even begin to consider the irregularity of its spelling. Irish has eleven irregular verbs, multiple of which are only irregular in one tense. its spelling is entirely consistent and, once the rules are known, any word (pretty much) can be flawlessly pronounced from reading it or flawlessly spelled from hearing it. (I promise Irish names make sense. just not if you try to use English rules on them. the languages are very different!) Irish is one of the most regular languages out there.

so, I thought I’d go through the actual scene. I’m going to put each line, the direct translation, the subtitle provided, and a comment. hopefully this will be interesting to someone other than me!

·—·

“is mise do pheannchara, a Charlie.” (Shelley)

direct translation: “I’m your pen pal, Charlie.”

subtitle provided: “I’m your pen pal, Charlie.”

okay, so they translate “pen pal” two different ways in this scene. the first, used here, is “peannchara”. this is a compound word, much like all those long words you get in German. it’s a perfectly good choice given there is no one standard choice for translating that concept.

“tá brón orm, ach ní thuigim cad atá ráite agat. is féidir liom gibberish a léamh, ach ní féidir liom í a labhairt.” (Charlie)

direct translation: “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you’ve said. I’m able to read gibberish, but I’m not able to speak it.”

subtitle provided: “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you just said. I read gibberish, but I don’t speak it.”

I would slightly disagree with the subtitles here. the “just” bit isn’t expressed at all. in fact, there is no Irish equivalent to that word, and we often just use the English one in the middle of an Irish sentence because of this. however, I expect that RCG (Rob McElhenney, Charlie Day, Glenn Howerton) wrote the subtitles and then handed them to an Irish translator, in which case the translator did a perfectly good job. a couple of notes about the use of “gibberish” here. I love it. firstly, we totally do drop English words into sentences like that. secondly, I really like the choice to use the feminine form of “it” here (that is, to make “gibberish” a feminine noun). all languages except English are feminine nouns in Irish as a rule, so it’s just a lovely detail calling back to the fact that Charlie thinks of it as the gibberish language. also, Charlie Day really does absolutely nail that voiceless velar fricative (the consonant sound in “ach”, as in Scottish “loch” or any number of German words), a sound even many natively English-speaking Irish people are lazy about. good on him.

“níl aon ciall le sin. sé á labhairt anois!” (Shelley)

direct translation: “there’s no sense to that. it’s being spoken now!”

subtitle provided: “that doesn’t make any sense. you’re speaking it now!”

I adore the phrasing of the first sentence here. thoroughly authentic. there are much more obvious ways to phrase it, but this is absolutely what a native speaker might go with. same goes for the second, actually. Colm Meaney says the second line in a sort of shortened way (same idea as how we might turn “do not” into “don’t”) so I’ve struggled slightly with how to directly translate it. interestingly, Shelley categorises “gibberish” as a masculine noun here, but this isn’t really wrong since it doesn’t have an official grammatical gender due to not being an actual Irish word. just a little odd. also, to fit better to the subtitle of the second sentence, I personally would’ve gone with “tá sé á labhairt agat anois” rather than “tá sé á labhairt anois” (the full version of what Shelley says), as this includes the information of by whom it is being spoken.

“’s é mo dheartháir mo chara pinn.” (Charlie)

direct translation: “it’s my brother that’s my pen pal.”

subtitle provided: “but my pen pal is my brother.”

firstly, to be clear, the nuance of the sentence structure here is not captured in either of the above translations because there simply is not an English equivalent to it. secondly, Charlie uses a contraction here by shortening “is é mo dheartháir mo chara pinn”. super cool. also, there’s that other translation of “pen pal”! this one is “cara pinn”, which uses the Irish genitive case (the word mutates instead of using an equivalent of the English word “of”; this case also exists in other languages including Swedish, German, Latin, and Greek). I like this translation very much too. both work! Charlie Day again delivers this line really nicely, even stressing the word for “brother” (and pronouncing its initial consonant mutation absolutely gorgeously)! I am truly very impressed.

“níl aon fhírinne le sin, a mhic. ’s é do chara pinn… d’athair.” (Shelley)

direct translation: “there’s no truth to that, son. it’s your pen pal who is… your father.”

subtitle given: “no son. your pen pal is your… father.”

so, I really disagree with the first sentence of the subtitles here. it works, but also misses a lot of the beautiful nuance that could have been got. I would have gone with “that’s not true, son” or, more likely, “that’s not right, son”. I also disagree with the placement of the ellipsis in the second sentence, as you see (and my frustrations in translating this sentence structure to English continue, as well). however I like the use of “a mhic” (“son”) here, very much. this is a mutated form of “mac”, meaning “son” (yes, as in all of those Irish surnames; they all just basically say who the person is the son of). it carries both meanings that exist in English: an actual son, but also the use of the word as an affectionate way to refer to any man younger than the (usually male) speaker. this is a really nice choice.

·—·

so, yeah! those are my thoughts. feel free to ask any questions you like. I love this scene so much. as well as the reasons above about how good the translation and delivery is, I also love two other main things about this.

firstly, the level of dignity given to the language. Sunny makes fun of Irish-Americans all the time, but doesn’t really do the same to Irish people from Ireland, which I like (I do also wanna talk about Mac and Charlie as members of the Irish diaspora because it is so so interesting, but that is for another day). Irish as a language is not often given dignity, especially in American or English media, so I really love that it isn’t the butt of the joke here.

secondly, that such a significant scene is delivered through this language. just wonderful. after fourteen and a half series, we finally discover the biological father, and the scene cannot be separated from this beautiful language. it just is so perfect.

RCG, and of course Charlie Day in particular, we Gaeilgeoirí (Irish speakers) thank you! our little language made it to the screens of so many people around the world.

I hope this was interesting haha.

·—·

edits: fixed some things I mistyped.

#always sunny #iasip #sunny #it’s always sunny in philadelphia #irish #gaeilge #irish language #charlie kelly #charlie day #colm meaney #rob mcelhenney #glenn howerton #megan ganz #rcg #ireland #irish diaspora

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undiscovered-horizon · 8 months

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Amendments II: The Panther and the Duckling - Kaz Brekker x Reader

[Part 1]

[vulgar language, canon-typical violence]

SUMMARY: The moment comes when Kaz gives you the opportunity to make amendments for the two thugs that started a fight at his club. He can only nod in appreciation at the mayhem you effortlessly cause.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.2k

[Grishaverse-inspired playlist]

Kaz didn’t quite know what to expect when walking towards your place. Would it be filled with riches? Or instead, kept plain and simple? How golden is the Golden Panther’s lair?

Despite having no expectations, he’s pretty surprised to see the interior of Albasten Vlam Casino. Creme and crimson furnishing along with gold chandeliers and brackets make the venue appear exclusive. A soft jazz tune carries through the venue, skilful hands of the pianist creating a neverending, atonal melody. The guests are also nothing short of lavish, losing in one game the same amount of money some citizens of Ketterdam earn in three months' time. It seems as though the entrance to the Albasten Vlam is a doorway into another realm, where poverty and disease are about as real as the boogeyman under a child’s bed.

Two Fjerdans, each roughly the size of a grange, eye Kaz suspiciously as he walks through the spacious halls. His common elegance looks almost offensive among the million-Kruge suits of the casino’s clientele. Even if he wasn’t a thief, the guards would still expect him to dabble in thievery - simply because of the way he looks compared to the other patrons.

Walking up short stairs and turning into backrooms and staff-only corridors, Kaz knows that he’s expected. Otherwise, why is no one stopping him? In fact, most of the employees don’t seem to pay him much mind.

The long hall decorated with statues and paintings ends in a two-wing pair of doors almost completely covered by the stocky bodies of bodyguards. One of them, covered in tattoos of Zemenian origin, laughs when Kaz approaches the door.

“Oi, boys!” the tattooed man yells to someone behind Kaz. He speaks with a heavy accent. “Would you look at this! Twee’y wans in.”

Kaz hears two sets of footsteps behind him. They’re not distinctively loud, those people aren’t carrying weapons.

“I came to speak with the Golden Panther,” Kaz states, unaffected.

“Like many did before ya and many will do after,” the guard answers. “Wha’eve’ ya have to say to me Boss, ya can say to me, Twee’y.”

“Very well,” Kaz says quietly. “I’m here to discuss the repayment of Panther’s debt for causing a fight in my club.”

The tattooed man gives his friend, who looks like his archenemy is the Sun, a meaningful look. “Keep an eye on the lad, I’ll check in with Boss.” He goes to open the door but before he walks into your office, he makes sure to give Kaz the most annoyed expression a face can make.

A few minutes go by when no one makes a sound. The sickly pale guard barely blinks, keeping his watchful, grey eyes on Brekker. Whoever followed Kaz is still standing a few paces behind him, also remaining suspiciously quiet.

Kaz hates this feeling. He has to put his faith in your apparent reliability. Some people say that ‘there’s no honour among thieves’ and perhaps they’re right. But what honour could there be between a panther and a crow? Isn’t the only thing they can honour Mother Nature? The food chain?

Right when Kaz is about to give in to his fatalistic thoughts, the door opens once again and the tattooed man emerges from the room. His lips are kept in a thin line. The man appears to be dissatisfied with what he had learned but alas, there is nothing he can do about it.

“Today’s ya lucky day, Twee’y,” he speaks up, his voice bitter. “Pop in and behave yaself.”

Without another word, Kaz pushes past the tattooed guard and into the room.

Your office is furnished in a similar style as the rest of the casino: creme, crimson and gold. The first thing that Kaz notices, and pretty much anyone who walks in, is the taxidermied panther head hanging on the wall behind you. The motif of a panther is quite prevalent as the legs of your desk are also carved to resemble pouncing and roaring panthers.

Bright ringing chimes in his ears. He turns his head to the side only to notice a frail woman, if she is even old enough to be called that, typing away on a typewriter. Judging by the stack of papers next to her, she’s rewriting your letters and notes. Kaz makes a note of her clothing: the pigeon blue barely fits the interior design but the quality of the material and craftsmanship looks far too expensive for a typist.

“Kaz Brekker in the fucking flesh,” you say aloud. His attention is once again focused on you. “Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to show up in person.”

“An opportunity has arisen for you to repay me.”

“Tell me.” Your voice sounds disinterested as you look back down at whatever document you are signing. Kaz puts his gloved hand on the back of the chair in front of your desk but you’re quick to shut him down. “Nah, don’t sit,” you say without looking up.

It’s all a gimmick, he thinks, but she has the means to uphold it. The skill and power to make it real.

For a moment he considered sitting down against your will simply out of spite but he’s heard enough stories to not get in your bad books just to prove a point. Golden Panther is a name even Pekka Rollins would say with fear in his voice. Kaz has seen the damage you’ve done to Pekka - damage that even his title of “The King of the Barell” can not repair.

“I’m planning a job and I need a distraction,” Kaz explains. “There’s a brewery in town. Belongs to a man known as Magnus Molders. Your job is to destroy his business, thus drawing the Stadwatch away from me and my Crows.”

With a devilish smile on your face, you look up from the document and set your pen aside. “And what did little Maggie-boy do to you, Dirtyhands?”

“That is none of your concern.”

You give him a knowing nod.

“So, kill two birds with one stone,” you sum up. “Practical, effective, sends a message. Solid 6 out of 10. Lacking in the finesse department.” Half-jokingly, you shake your head with an expression of disappointment.

“I’m not interested in your appraisal,” Kaz retorts. “Magnus Molders’s brewery in two days' time. That’s your assignment if you want your debt erased.”

A scoff flies past your lips. “I’m rude, not stupid, Brekker,” you drone your words. “I’ll be there. Stadwatch won’t even catch a sniff of you. Here, let me walk you out.”

You stand up from your desk, grabbing the cane with the panther's head leaning against it. Although Kaz doesn’t want to admit it, hiding a blade inside the cane is an idea that has been growing on him. Practical, effective, sends a message, he hears your voice in his thoughts.

Kaz follows you out and is immediately met with an obvious change of behaviour in your employees. The guards suddenly stand uncomfortably straight, pushing their chests out. Now, Brekker can take a look at the two men who had followed him up to your office. They both look like chimney sweepers or shoe shiners, the type of lanky young men no one pays attention to in a crowd. People of this sort tend to be overlooked enough to listen in on any and every hot scoop or invited into people’s homes and no one ever checks whether they’re not helping themselves to the expensive belongings of the homeowners.

“I want Sorokin and Evander with me,” you order. “They started this shit and I will do my damn best to make sure they end this.”

“Yes, Boss,” the tattooed man hurriedly answers and bows his head slightly. He’s about to march away when you ask him one more thing:

“And bring the Duckling.”

The tattooed man’s lips turn into a devilish grin. “Aye, Boss,” he drones the words.

“The Duckling?” Kaz repeats in a questioning manner.

“Oh, we wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise now, would we?” you answer in an irritatingly patronizing tone. “It’s very me.”

Explosions and mayhem? Kaz thinks to himself. But then he realizes it doesn’t quite matter - if this “Duckling” lives up to your known style of dealing with things, he’s going to get one hell of a distraction.

Magnus Molders rushes out of his brewery. He didn’t even have the time to button up his coat. The cold, rainy wind tugs at his thin shirt and dishevelled hair.

He gasps in surprise. His employee, a redhead boy with a lisp, told the truth: there’s the Golden Panther waiting for him on the circular driveway in front of the brewery. You’re leaning against the backdoor of the steel carriage, finishing a hand-rolled cigarette.

“I’d say ‘good morning’ but it’s more of a shitty noon, you know?” you speak up. With a flick of your fingers, you throw the finished smoke under the brewmaster’s shoes.

Nervous, Magnus clenches his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. His lips tighten into a thin, white line.

“What…” his voice trembles. Magnus clears his throat. “What do ya want, Panther?”

“A lot of things,” you answer. “But I don’t suppose you sell lavender cream puffs or pistachio croissants, do you?”

“No, I-” he hangs his voice when he sees you put your hand up.

“That was a rhetorical question,” you spit out.

“So,” he continues, “What brings ya here?”

You took a small step towards him. “At first, I wanted to talk to you. You know like proper adults. But then I remembered I don’t speak little bitch.”

Magnus clenches his jaw. His eyes begin to burn with anger, fear and humiliation. Like a wounded animal, he ounces when threatened.

“Yer mad, woman, is what ya are!” he screams. A few distant passers-by look towards him and you. They scurry away, sensing immediate danger. “I’ve no bad blood with ya. What’s all this for?!”

With a sad expression on your face, you shake your head disapprovingly. “Because you’re a cunt.”

You hit the steel door of the carriage with your fist, the banging ringing in your ears.

“Duckling?” Jesper repeats confused. Kaz only nods along, an absent expression on his face. “What in Hell is-...” he hangs his voice when he notices a metallic shine in the darkness of the steel carriage. “Oh. Oh, that’s proper mental.”

Without a warning, the massive Gatling gun hidden in the cab begins shooting. Bullets faster than blinking eyes pierce the air, thousands in a second, destroying the brewery. As you ordered before, Sorokin is the one aiming and firing, his whole body trembling from the recoil of the machine gun. Evander, the other man responsible for the fight, is holding the casings with the bullets and making sure the Gatling doesn’t seize up.

After barely a few minutes, although they felt like hours, the brewery building looks like one of the kerchen cheeses that have more holes than actual cheese. Magnus Molders is catching his raspy breath as he tries to stop the bleeding in his left arm. Most of his white shirt is crimson now. Blood is covering the circular driveway, red mixing with greyish rainwater in puddles only to turn into a black, thick liquid. It’s hard to say what happened to his employees back at the brewery but you couldn’t care less. “Bad place, bad time” as some people say.

The streets are awfully quiet but not for long: galloping horses are heard in the distance. A bell begins to ring feverishly. It’s the Stadwatch, always arriving when the party’s already over.

When Kaz gets back into his office in the late evening hours, he’s met with something he should have expected - you’re sitting in his chair, legs propped up on his desk. Although it’s supposed to come off as arrogant, he notices that you’ve stacked his papers, so that your shoes don’t actually damage them. Strangely nice for someone who has no qualms about shooting up a random brewery.

“What are you doing here?” he asks angrily.

You look at your pocket watch. “Took you long enough. I was beginning to think you’ve lost your way.” You take your legs off his desk and stand up. “I should probably ask whether you’re satisfied with my service but I find myself unable to care for your opinion.”

“Why’d you come here, then?” he retorts swiftly.

“Business etiquette, I guess?” You shrug. “Shake hands, erase the red from the ledger and go our separate ways, admiring each other’s achievements from a safe distance.”

Kaz slightly squints his eyes. By the way he’s clenching his jaw, you can tell he’s angry. He does accept your handshake but keeps the courtesy short and stern. Professional, one might say.

“And yet I feel compelled to give you my appraisal." His tone is intense, filled with violent emotions kept under control with the last bits of his self-control. "You’re like a fly that keeps buzzing but keeps escaping the swat. Infuriating.”

A humourless chuckle erupts in your throat. “You might want to check that with the board of directors.” Before he has any time to react, you pat his thigh, indecently close to his groin, before walking past him and out of the room. At first, he’s angry, blood boiling in his veins and begging him to put you in your place, demand respect in the only way people like you and him understand. But then Kaz grows strangely bashful as he realises that there might be some truth in your words.

___

Guys, I promise I'm not actually dead T_T Been writing original stuff and binging The Mortal Instruments (the Netflix show is so bad it's actually fun...?)

Tagging people who were interested in part 2: @queenkalico @kplatzman @sunset-kisses-vibes @zeeader

#shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfiction #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows fanfiction #six of crows #six of crows fic #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader

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