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temiizpalace · 4 months

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☆┆MY LAST NAME BELONGS TO YOU!

SUMMARY: writing your name out, with his last name!

CHARACTERS: basketball club + azul and leona

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: reader is referred to as [mc] – not really a warning, just kinda cringe – mentions of pursuing marriage in floyd and azuls part

ROMANTIC, RELATIONSHIP IS UP TO READER

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

♥️┆ACE TRAPPOLA

“man, this stinks..”

ace whispered under his breath as professor trein droned on with the lesson. he was struggling to keep his eyes open. as much as he wanted to just fall asleep in the middle of the lesson, he really really didn’t want to add to his homework pile.

that’s just more precious hours of his day wasted. all the repetitive sounds were oddly enough lulling him to sleep. the grating sounds of grim snoring, the weird twang noise deuces rubber band was making, and the sounds of pencils writing against paper.

“hey deucy, make sure not to fall asleep.” he whispered to ace, as if he wasn’t about to do the same. deuce gives him a look, about to open his mouth before trein had looked in their direction. ending their banter immediately.

to keep himself awake, ace started doodling in his notebook. not in the corner as most would, no he began doodling on a brand new sheet of paper. curious as to what you were doing, it seems you were notetaking at first.

but getting a closer look, you were doing the same as him. doodling in the notebook, barely paying attention to the lesson. he snickered, deep down grateful that he wasn’t the only one not paying attention.

‘hah. look at that idiot, not paying attention. they’d have to work twice as hard without magic. hehe.’ ace thought, shifting his attention to staring at you. though he was focused on you, his hands still mindlessly doodled across the page. completely unaware of what he was writing.

deuce glances over his shoulder, eyes widening at what he managed to read. “ace?! i.. i never would’ve thought this was your level of dedication..” deuce says to ace, confusing the boy. “eh? deuce what are you talking about—“

ace looks at the paper. his handwriting was messy since he wasn’t paying attention but it was certainly legible.

[MC] TRAPPOLA

he shuts the notebook hastily, emitting a loud thud noise to echo in the classroom. all eyes were on him. including yours. he whistles as if nothing happened, face flushed a light pink color. trein grunts, and continues on with the lesson.

🦁┆LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

“how’d i get stuck here..”

leona mumbles, sitting at his desk in what felt like forever. his plans to skip were officially ruined as you dragged him to his classroom before he could make it to the botanical garden. usually he’d just brush off anybody getting in his way of a good nap, but you looked so persistent in getting him here.

so begrudgingly, he took his seat in class with a huff as the professor continued his lesson. does he regret it? sort of. you looked satisfied and proud when he listened to you, so he’ll oblige for now. he can just ask for a reward later as a thanks for his compliance. he’s mentally making a list of things you could do for him..

joining him for his afternoon nap, fetching him lunch, coming to a spelldrive club practice, the list goes on. his blissful thoughts were then interrupted as the professor placed a paper worksheet in front of him. a worksheet? those are barely ever given out to students..

“kingscholar, this is a sheet of things you must catch up on as a result of your frequent absences. surely you can finish this by the end of the week since you seem to have much free time.” the professor spoke, handing him a pencil and leaving him off to writing.

“haah.. I shouldn’t have listened to that damn herbivore.” he sighs, slouching in his seat and reviewing the sheet in front of him. ‘i already know all this..’ leona thinks, stretching his arms out getting ready to nap. the least he could do is write out his name and do the rest when he feels like it. instead of his name, it was something else entirely.

[MC] KINGSCHOLAR

his ears drop down, his eyes widened, and his cheeks got darker. he followed his first instinct and crumbled the worksheet, ensuring nobody could read what he had just written. the professor glares at him and makes his way over to his seat. “mr. kingscholar.. i hope you know that’d be a rather large part of your grade. we wouldn’t want you to be held back another, would we?”

“tch..” leona scoffs, trying to look away from any of the attention he was receiving. the class ends as soon as it has started, thankfully with no more incidents. leona was just glad nobody has seen what he has written and that he can escape this situation as quickly as possible.. or so he thought.

“roi du leon!” an all too familiar face calls out.

oh no.

🐙┆AZUL ASHENGROTTO

azul sat in his office, filing through the contracts he had made in the past month. many let their minds wander when sitting at a desk for 2 hours or so, and azul is no exception.

eventually growing bored and tired of looking through the deals he made, he took out a notepad and simply wrote out his thoughts. at first he thought this was a dumb idea, but his mother insisted he try it and it has been working ever since.

his mind always felt at ease once the notebook was pulled out. but today felt a little different. he was happy, but today he felt more excited than anything.

he had a dumb lovestruck smile on his face, lightly giggling as he wrote. what on earth? his face was flushed and warm, but he didn’t mind it one bit.

[MC] ASHENGROTTO

he would’ve never thought something so simple would’ve gotten him so worked up. it was just your name and his surname. what was so special?

that’s what he would’ve thought in the past. now, he began to imagine a future of you and him in the coral sea.. a house together.. you meeting his mother.. his stepfather.. it made him feel all giddy. like a schoolgirl if you will.

his love fantasies were inevitably cut short as he heard a knock on the door. “ne, azul. shrimpy is here to see ya.”

panicked that you and floyd might see his notes, he hurriedly opened his drawer and slams it shut. the thud can be heard on the other side of the door, confusing you. “a-ahem.. come in!”

as he saw you, his fantasies began to boot back up. a wedding.. dates at mostro lounge.. it sounded like paradise. every fiber of his being was fighting the primal urge to make you a sign a contract. a contract in which you’d agree to be his life partner. forever, and ever.

🦈┆FLOYD LEECH

not feeling like attending classes, floyd skipped out on the lesson. he knows he’d get scolded by azul later, but if he doesn’t feel like going he don’t wanna.

since you were in classes, the teachers had pushed him out before he even got to you. even despite his protests! floyd complains at the closed door, trying to open it back up.

“eh? why can’t i just take shrimpy and go? lessons are borin’ anyway.” he complains, causing you to hide your head from all the eyes staring at you. all this attention pointed more at you than at floyd..

“leech.. that’s quite enough. go back to your class and come back for this.. “shrimpy” later. interrupting a lesson is NOT what a mage of the future should be doing.” the teacher retorts, now ignoring floyd and his remarks.

“tch.” getting tired of trying to pull you out, floyd retreats to his room in octavinelle. he flopped onto his bed, a pen in hand and a notebook in front of him. jade said drawing is a good time killer or whatever, so he’ll do just that. in all honesty, it won’t take long for him to get bored of this activity and look for something else.

floyd being floyd, just wrote or drew whatever first came to mind. there were tiny drawings of shrimps all over the page. an occasional eel to be seen next to it. he laughed and smiled looking at the page before him. “ehe.. there are shrimpys all over this paper—!”

he writes out another thought that came to his mind. it wasn’t a shrimp drawing, neither was it an eel. the handwriting was slightly shaking being on an uneven and unstable surface, but you can tell what it says.

[MC] LEECH

[MC]? ohhh, that’s your name! leech? that’s his last name! he didn’t truly process what he had wrote, but he knew the implications of it. you being a leech.. to change your last name..

you typically marry a person of interest.. and that person of interest typically inherits the others last name..

hey! person of interest is you! you’re his person of interest! just wait shrimpy! you better save that ring finger just for him!

and 5 minutes later he gets bored, tosses the notebook to the side and goes back to terrorize your classroom again.

🐍┆JAMIL VIPER

jamil sat in the scarabia lounge, finally finishing up dinner for the day. kalim was held up in club activities, and basketball practice has been cancelled due to the fact over half of the members were injured thanks to floyd and aces negligence.

this was a rare moment where he actually had time to himself. nobody to interrupt him in his peaceful state of mind. jamil walked over to his room, locking the door behind him and laying flat onto his bed.

he stares up at the ceiling, unsure what to do with this free time. homework? no he already did it all. check up on kalim? no, why would he ruin his moment of peace like that. check up on you? …

what a ridiculous idea. he doesn’t have time for that. well he does but.. ugh. having time to himself isn’t as relaxing as he made it out to be. especially considering he never had a moment to himself in forever.

jamil figured to keep himself occupied, he can make a bucket list. many people make bucket lists, surely this’ll help him plan his future, right? he grabs a pen and a sheet of paper and began to brainstorm.

obviously seeing the world is one of them. that’s something he wanted to do for as long as he could remember. his mind blanks. so far, his only desire was to travel. far far away from kalim. a thought occurred in his mind.

“..they have to be putting a spell on me or something.” jamil mutters, massaging his temple. he tried wiping the thought clean from his mind, but there was no luck. it annoyed him that such a simple thought was enough to leave him flustered.

[MC] VIPER

he wrote it onto a separate sheet of paper. examining it with a slight smirk. his cheeks were tinted a slightly darker shade, signs of him blushing. “their name doesn’t go well with my surname. what a shame.”

he’s lying. hearing your name with his last is like music to his ears, as much as he’d hate to admit it. surely enough he rips the paper into shreds and tosses it into a nearby trashbin, going out on a walk to clear his clouded mind.

you must’ve put a spell on him. he shouldn’t be having such fantasies of you and him traveling the world together.

A/N: this kinda sucks but it’s better than nothing lmao

date published: 1/6/23

#disney twst #twisted wonderland fluff #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst fluff #twst wonderland #twst x reader #twst #ace trappola x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #floyd leech x reader #jamil viper x reader

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hamsterclaw · 4 months

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A Love story, read the rest here.

Your fuckboi boyfriend proposes to you, and he's just about as unserious as you expect him to be, until you realise he isn't.

Pairing: Namjoon x f! reader

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Sex, swearing

When Namjoon proposed you’d thought it was a joke, at first.

‘Sure,’ you’d answered, nonchalant. ‘When do we tell our parents?’

‘We could just elope,’ Namjoon had said. He’d rolled over, bare back gleaming with sweat from pounding you into the bed.

‘Perfect. What should I wear?’

‘I’ll get you a dress,’ Namjoon had said. ‘A ring, too.’

‘Great.’

You’d got up to get washed up, and when you’d come back, wondering if it was all really a joke, you’d found Namjoon fast asleep, stretched out over the entire bed.

You’d climbed on top of him, buried your face in his chest, and gone to sleep too.

You’d been at the mall a few days later, helping Namjoon choose a new jacket, when he’d disappeared and come back with an ivory slip dress.

He’d held it up in front of you. ‘What do you think?’

‘It’s nice,’ you’d agreed.

‘Perfect. I’ll get a shirt to match.’

You’d raised an eyebrow. ‘Is this for our ‘wedding’?’

Namjoon had said, ‘Yeah.’

‘I should try it on,’ you’d said, thoughtfully.

Namjoon had given you all of three minutes in the changing room before he’d pushed his way in the door.

‘Shit, you look pretty,’ he’d said, looking you up and down with a flattering intensity.

‘Pretty enough to marry?’

‘Forever isn’t long enough,’ Namjoon had replied, waggling his brows at you, and you’d burst out laughing.

‘Shut up, idiot,’ you’d scoffed but there’d been an oddly sweet fluttering in your chest.

Namjoon had already been distracted by your thighs, big hand running up the smoothness of your left thigh, bunching the silky material up to your hip, plucking at the strap of your tiny underwear, twanging it against your skin.

‘Get out, we can do this at home,’ you’d said firmly, hand on his chest, pushing him out of the changing room.

Namjoon had said, ‘Give me a sec,’ and had readjusted what looked like a raging boner.

‘Shit, Namjoon,’ you’d teased, flattered and impressed that he’d got that hard that quickly.

‘It’s not just you in that dress,’ Namjoon had said, in all seriousness. ‘It’s the idea of calling you Mrs Kim.’

You’d dropped to your knees and pressed a kiss to the head of his cock over his jeans, and he’d whined then, a sound so rare for him you’d wet your panties just from hearing it.

‘Come on,’ you’d said, sultry, going up on tiptoe to nibble his earlobe. ‘Buy me this and let’s go home.’

That afternoon Namjoon had fucked you against the door as soon as you’d closed it behind you, tugging your panties down to your ankles, lifting your leg and sliding into you with a groan so relieved you’d suspected he’d been hard since the changing room at the mall.

You’d been no better, worked up by the heated looks he’d kept throwing you on the way home, by the way he’d felt you up under your top in the lift to his apartment, whispering filth in your ear about how pretty your tits were, how he could see your nipples through the material, how he wanted his cum all over them.

It’d been hours before you made it to the bed, mainly because you’d fallen asleep in his arms on the floor after he’d fucked your third orgasm from you, sticky and satisfied.

Namjoon in his mid twenties had fucked you so many times he’d probably been inside you more often than not.

You wouldn’t have changed a damn thing.

***

You’d ended up planning a wedding dinner because your and his parents insisted, an affair you’d left to your mother and his which ended up being in a swanky hotel downtown.

You remember scrolling through a wedding menu one Saturday morning, half dressed, barely awake, because of a barrage of messages from your mother.

Namjoon had been doing pushups in a corner of his bedroom, grunting with effort, and you’d walked over and climbed on top of the expanse of his bare back.

‘Get off,’ he’d complained, but he’d made no move to push you off.

You’d enjoyed the feel of his back muscles flexing under your ass and thighs as he’d done another pushup, arms twitching from the effort of holding you up.

Finally, he’d rolled over, sending you into a crumpled pile on the floor, and just as quickly had got on top of you, caging you in between his arms.

‘Do you want soup as a starter?’ you’d asked, feigning seriousness.

He’d raised a brow at you. ‘Yeah of course.’

‘Can you text my mum back?’ you’d asked.

Namjoon had grabbed your phone from your hand. ‘Yeah. I’ll just tell her I’ll call her after I finish fucking you.’

You’d grabbed for the phone, and he’d pinned your arms above your head.

‘Fuck the soup. Let’s get married today,’ he’d said.

‘Sure. Give me an hour to get dressed.’

Namjoon and you had eyed each other. There’d been nothing in his expression that made you doubt his seriousness, but you’d wondered anyway.

As you’d showered, and he’d stepped in to shower after you were done.

As you’d put your makeup on, styled your hair.

As you’d gone to lay your slip dress on the bed, only to find his crisp ivory shirt laid out already, with his good suit.

As you’d slipped your shoes on, and he’d helped you with your coat.

As you’d pulled up outside city hall.

You’d slipped your hand in his as you walked up the steps, and he’d stopped then, looking down at you, so handsome your heart could burst.

‘I want to marry you today. Will you marry me?’ he’d asked.

You don’t know how he could ever ask you that and expect any answer but yes.

You’d slid your thumb over his wrist, felt his pulse thumping under your skin, strong, steady.

Even now, after all these years and after all you’ve been through, you’d say the same thing you said that day.

‘I’d love to,’ you’d said.

He’d smiled, almost shy, and leaned down to kiss you full on the lips.

After the ceremony you’d gone to the lake outside city hall to feed the ducks.

The sky had been overcast that day, and neither of you had taken any pictures, but you can still see him in your mind’s eye, still remember it like it was yesterday.

‘Should I call your mom back now?’ he’d asked, leaning over the railing, turning to you.

‘I told her I trusted her judgement,’ you’d replied. ‘And that you definitely wanted soup.’

Namjoon had laughed, and you’d pressed a kiss to his chest.

‘I love you,’ you’d told him.

He’d waited until you’d looked up at him. ‘I love you,’ he’d said.

You’d waited for the punchline, the fuckboi comment, but he’d knitted his fingers through yours and said, ‘Forever isn’t long enough.’

You’d held hands by the lake until it got too cold, and then, you’d made your way home.

©hamsterclaw 2024

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #bts smut

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chainmailchalamet · 10 months

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Run Rabbit, Run (Dark! Eddie Munson 🍒🪽), Pt. 2

tags: roommates to lovers, modern!metalhead!eddie munson(maybe not a complete face match to ST!Eddie, but his look is up to your imagination), predator/prey dynamic , a lil degradation, impact, knife play, jealousy, possessive behavior + language, dacryphilia, kind of fucked up intense dirty talk, face slapping, choking, morallygrey!eddie, they may or may not be completely human (also up to interpretation), and as usual always!black always!non-binary POV 🌟🍒

————

the tension breaks because of course it does— because eddie, from the moment you move in, seems to be on a one-man mission to pull at every single one of your threads until you unravel at his feet, just so he can put you back together again.

and if you confronted him about it, he’d play dumb about it, because in his defense, he’s not really doing anything he wouldn’t usually do. nothing he wasn’t already doing before you moved in with him — he’d say you were being paranoid, that it was kind of adorable actually.

but you know you’re not, that he’s not just doing what he’d otherwise be doing, that his actions are a targeted attempt to make you lose your mind, to crawl under your skin and live there. that to him, it’s just a matter of time before you snap.

it starts with the cooking thing — he’s always cooking, has been attached to the kitchen since he was a kid, living with his uncle wayne down in virginia — sweet, sweltering hot virginia, where he got his twang and his first tattoos (the stick and poke smiley face on his ankle, the first set of knuckle tats, the bones of his face piece), his love of smoking cigarettes off the top of his trailer on cool, quiet nights with a sky full of stars. wayne, who’s still down in virginia in a cabin that eddie put the money down for with his chef money. uncle wayne, who taught him to gut a fish and skin a deer and whose peach cobbler recipe he’s still trying to get just right. wayne, who he still calls every sunday as he fixes both of you a full dinner spread with greens and sweet potato and baked chicken.

to eddie, cooking is home, and family, roots and heart — it’s more than a love language. it’s a soul language, and he speaks it fluently, teaches it to everyone he lets get close to him.

and it only take a couple of weeks before he’s speaking it to you day and night, until you barely have to lift a finger in the kitchen because he’s got you, because he’s always got you. he’s got you for breakfast, with thick cuts of salmon and fat, fluffy vegan pancakes. with fresh squeezed juice and sausages that he picks up from the polish supermarket in brown paper bags every sunday, because he’s got a plug for that, and a plug for the freshest fruit in-season, for big juicy strawberries and peach preserves and purple kale.

he feeds you, everyday — with leftovers from the restaurant shifts he works until 3 in the morning — he brings you the day’s specials, whatever they are, spoils you with mushroom risotto and grilled eggplant and bucatini made in-house with the most flavorful tomato sauce you’ve ever tasted. if the special is seafood, he brings it home in a freezer bag, with sliced lemon on the side — he serves you your first oyster, your first bite of squid ink pasta, your first full lobster.

he’ll knock on your door at some ungodly hour, and when you invite him in he’s got a plate loaded up for you, bags under his eyes and a tired smile. he’ll watch you take that first bite, make that first satisfied noise, because he knows you’ve been at the drafting table for hours making adjustments to a new garment in time for an editorial shoot over the weekend.

no matter how tired he is, he’ll sit on your bed, looking so out of place amongst your plushies that it makes you bite down a giggle at the sight of him, looking sharp and dangerous surrounded by soft things. no matter how tired he is, he’ll ask you about your day and listen intently, wrinkle between his eyes as he does — and even though you’re shy at first, talking to him about fashion, he’s encouraging, asking you questions until you loosen up a little and you’re talking his ear off about sustainable dyeing practices and bias cuts and the art of the gather. and you know he’s too tired to take it all in but he’ll fight it, yawning in-between questions like you can use onions skins as dye, that’s crazy, what else have you tried and you did that all by hand? so fucking cool — yeah, i mean I can do patches but it’s nothing like that, used to just use dental floss and it wasn’t super clean, nothing like what you do, that’s way more punk, you made a fucking jacket from scratch.

and he makes you shy when he gets like that, when he gives you all his attention, when he keeps track of every bite like you’re suddenly going to hate his cooking, like he’s ready at any moment to fix it for you, to go right back into the kitchen and make you something from scratch, like he wasn’t just groaning about the longest fucking shift of my life, darlin’, you wouldn’t believe — had to hide in the lockup at midnight cuz we just got back to back fucked, substitution after substitution, and i like getting creative, don’t get me wrong, but what the fuck do we have a menu for?

he lights up a little when he talks about the kitchen though, about gareth who does dishes and robin and steve who run the front of house like it’s the navy.

he’ll grin when you scrunch your nose up because he’s smoked through another pack in one shift, flash his teeth and say beats the alternatives, glad you didn’t meet me all strung out and 21, would’ve been vibrating around your room, rearranged the kitchen, lit a real fire in the fireplace.

even on his worst nights, after an actual hell-shift, when his texts get short and a little snappy, when he stops assaulting your chat with emojis, when he spells out every single word and doesn’t reply for hours and all you get after that is a “don’t wait up x”. even when you hear him come in, dragging himself through the apartment like his body is dead weight, even on the worst nights — you’ll wake up in the morning to a spanish omelette on the counter and a sticky note that says “getting some air, sorry about last night x”, as if he has anything to apologize for, as if he’s not allowed to be human.

it’s all so domestic — he makes your home a warm cloud to lay in. he makes you feel so at ease, like he’s got you, like he’s a safe place to land.

which is where the problem comes in — because your roommate eddie, your sweet, doting, sensitive eddie, who cries when he says “love you, g’bye” to his uncle wayne without fail every single time they talk, who has taken in one of the neighbors cats (cerberus, sweet and soft and definitely using him for his top-shelf tuna connections) as if it is his own, and calls his guitar sweetheart and shimmies his way around the kitchen on sundays humming let’s hear it for the boys.

that eddie — sweet, darling doting eddie — is a fucking deviant.

he doesn’t show it too often, keeps it tucked away with impressive self-control, maybe even tries to hide it from you until he’s sure you’re settled, until you start to wonder if you just imagined that glint in his eyes the first day you met him — until the mask slips, until you catch a glimpse of his shadow once more and you think to yourself “there he is”.

it happens because of a bottle of tequila — because it always does. you go out drinking with him and his work friends, because you lost all of yours in the breakup, and eddie says he’s already told everyone all about you, that they already love you, c’mon sweetheart, it’s my night off and i wanna celebrate, know you got that shoot coming up, barely been drinking water you’re working so much, don’t think i haven’t noticed. come dance with me, just one night, i promise i’ll get you back in one piece.

and when he puts you on the spot like that, makes you feel exposed like that, looks at you with his bambi eyes all wide like that, you can’t really say no.

so you get all dressed up (change your outfit three times, because it’s been a long time since you’ve been out and you wanna make a good impression, damn it), and you might be freaking out a little. but then eddie yells out “c’mon honey, bet you look perfect, lemme see you”, and you swallow that anxiety because you like the way his voice curls around the words like that, that honey-twang he’s got cuz you’ve both been pre-gaming a little (him with a homemade margarita, you with a glass of red wine). it makes you brave, makes you take a deep breath and step out into the living room. and you both see each other all dressed up for the first time and — something shifts.

something tilts on its god damn axis — it’s the start of the end.

his hair is wild. big and dark and wild and sparkling through like he’s sprayed glitter in it. he’s got the most delicious black leather jacket on, fit perfect to his body and aged just right. he’s got this sheer fucking fabric stretched across his torso — it’s barely a shirt, just a scrap of something dark that lets you see the cut of his hips and the ink in his skin and the silver rings in his nipples.

his pants are low cut, ripped jagged across both knees, like he busted them open skating — and his boots are obscene, steel-toed shit-kickers, red-laces cutting through them like veins. he looks so good you want to stomp your feet and whine “not fair, who gave you eyeliner, that’s cheating”.

he looks like a young god, like hell on legs, like a flashing neon sign that says “i am going to fuck your life up and you’re going to thank me for it”. you suddenly can’t read.

the way he’s looking at you makes your mouth dry up, makes your thighs press together, makes you want to fall to your knees and worship. it’s all that desire you forgot that he possessed, that you only catch flashes of in the quiet moments — when he’s giving you a taste of something new and his eyes travel down to your lips wrapping round the edge of the spoon, when you hum low and pleased with your eyes closed and you open them up and he’s giving you that look again, that “run, rabbit, run” look.

for the first time in weeks he’s not hiding any of it from you — runs his gaze over your face and down your neck, across your shoulder and down your stomach, to your hips and both your thighs (he takes his time right there, sees you twitch, darts up to meet your eyes real quick, almost-smiles, like he’s saying “got you”)

and then up, up, up again. he takes his time. he runs his tongue across his lips, comes up real close and tugs on one of your braids with a scrunch between his brows, looks down at you and blows out a quiet rush of air and says “we should go, right now” like he means “before i do something i regret”.

that night, something inside you snaps.

his friends all clearly know something you don’t, and they are varying degrees of subtle about it. chrissy hugs you and smiles big and bright and says aren’t you the prettiest god damn thing i’ve ever seen but she’s looking at eddie when she says it, and it makes your face heat up.

robin and steve are all wry and knowing, bitchy in a fun way, exchanging little smiles with each other, all he’s finally let you out the dungeon, huh? thought he was gonna keep you all to himself.

jon is quiet but he gives eddie this little nod like “i see you” and his boyfriend argyle is already two-thirds into a bottle of casamigos so he just says the quiet part out loud, somehow makes it sound so chill, like it’s not a big deal that he takes one look at you and goes holy shit, eddie wasn’t lying, you’re like — what the fuck, i’d write songs about you too. doesn’t even give you a second to unpack all that before there’s a shot in your hand.

and then the drinks keep flowing and you start to loosen up and enjoy yourself and eddie doesn’t seem phased by any of the teasing, sits close to you and takes sips out of his drink (fruity, staining his tongue red as punch, sickly sweet when he lets you have a taste of it), keeps his eyes on you all night, just takes it all in stride — like he was expecting this, like he’s made his peace.

and you’re too drunk now to let it go, so you turn to him while steve and rob are busy bullying everyone else and you slur out something like so you’re obsessed with me, huh? and he smiles sharp and dirty and goes you don’t wanna go there with me honey, and you say why not, you’re all talk, don’t pussy out on me and his eyes go pitch black.

he nods his head, hums to himself. “noted.”

and it just goes down, down, down from there. because now you’re worked up, feeling bratty, feeling mean. you nod too, and he’s just taking you in, sitting too close, watching you like he’s curious, like he’s just delighted at the thought of what you’re gonna do next. bet, you think. let’s go, then.

steve seems like your best bet, so you ask him if he wants to dance, sugary sweet and wide-eyed, and he grins like he’s been waiting for this all night, says later losers, time to have some actual fun and takes your hand, cutting eddie a look like the cat that got the cream as you climb over his lap on your way out.

eddie’s just looking, looking, looking. quiet storm brewing across his face. leans in close before you’re gone to whisper “careful, baby” in your ear, like a warning.

you just smile at him, shrug. come get me, big bad.

dancing with steve is easy, his arm across your back, your hips pressed close. he says “your boy’s watching, wanna give him something to look at?” and you pout, tell him “he’s not gonna do shit, stevie, he’s all talk”.

steve smiles at you like you’re so dumb, just delightfully stupid, so you ask him what he knows and he says “i know he’s real sweet on you, but you better watch it, honey — eddie’s not the one to play with.”

and then he leans into your ear and tells you a story about a wolf who walks like a man and talks like a man and acts like a sheep — but he’s a wolf, honey. he likes to bite, likes to play with his food — keeps his prey tied down in his lair and takes them apart, piece by piece, until they’re crying, begging, until the fight leaves them all at once and they go empty between the ears, until they’re just gone. and then he just keeps taking, taking, taking. until they’ve got nothing left to give him.

and the music is so syrupy sweet that you’re lost in it, lost in the roll of your hips, lost in steve’s voice rumbling in your ears, low and hypnotic, lost in the drinks flowing through your veins — until steve has to hold you by the chin and force you to look up at him and say “still with me, little lamb?”

your throat is dry when you ask him how he knows what he knows, and he just looks over your shoulder (you know who he’s looking at, you feel those eyes across your back, he’s always watching, he just never stops looking) and tilts his chin up and goes why don’t you ask him yourself, honey?

and then eddie’s right there, pressed up against your back — leaning down to your ear to ask if you’re having fun, and for a second you’re pressed up between them both, letting steve rock you back into eddie, letting eddie grip you by the hips and pull you back, back, back, guiding you into a slow, filthy grind. your eyes fall close, you barely notice steve pressing a kiss to your temple, trilling have funnnn before he’s gone into the crowd again.

you still with me, eddie asks, at the same time you spin round and ask him “you fucked steve?”

he laughs a little and hums i see y’all been getting acquainted, pulls you close again and says jealous, honey?

you say you wish, and then you did, didn’t you? said you act like a sheep, but you’re not, are you? you’re a wolf.

he looks down at you, runs his hands under the straps of your top, presses his palms to the skin of your back, dips his head down. you know, i wanted to do this right — wanted to woo you and shit. feed you, keep you warm, treat you sweet.

and you know, you know, you know. what are you gonna do with me now, eddie?

he just looks at you. looks and looks, pulls you closer, let’s his hand creep down, down, down, makes the heat in your body swoop down low in your tummy when he grips you hard over your skirt, sweeps one hand in your hair and gets his fingers tangled in your braids, all the way down to the root and tugs, real mean with it.

he makes you bare your neck to him, makes you gasp, makes you wanna beg. for his teeth in your neck, for his hands between your thighs, for his mouth on you. you gonna hurt me, eddie?

he shrugs. i don’t know yet, honey. you gonna ask me nice for it? gonna ask for what you want instead of being a rude little brat, making me think you wanna fuck my friends?

your mouth goes dry. i wasn’t tryna —

nah, you just wanted me to think it, didn’t you? his voice drops low, mean, dark. dumb bunny, you didn’t actually think that was gonna work, did you? steve likes em big and bad, and you’re fucking nothing like that, are you? pretty little doll, he’d eat you alive.

he’s all inside your head, barely leaving you any space for yourself, and the way he sneers dumb bunny makes you squirm, makes you ache. he’s got you pinned in place like a fly in amber, nowhere else to run. and you wouldn’t?

he tilts his head, hums, says it again, wanted to do this right, wanted to lay you out on my bed and make you feel good. he mouths a kiss across your neck, traces his tongue across the skin, just the tip, just a tease. asked me if i was obsessed with you. stupid fucking question, baby. knew you were mine, first second i saw you, walked into my house and made it all strawberry and honey, seeped into everything, kept me up at night with it — and now it’s all over our home, our fucking home.

he uses his teeth, opens his mouth wide like a beast, like he can’t just smell you, like he needs the taste of it too, needs to feel the flesh between his teeth. and you can see right though me, can’t you, baby? the others, they think they see it, think they know what i think when i look at you, but you know, don’t you? you’ve always known.

you know. you’ve known. he wants inside your skin, wants to worm his way deep and build a home there. wants to keep you fed, keep you full, make you happier than anyone could. wants to own your happiness and your hunger, greedy over it. fucked up over the thought of anyone taking care of you better than he could, knows in his soul that no one else could. it makes you scared, makes you warm, makes you feel insane. you should run, should find a new apartment and start over because you’re so raw, and vulnerable, and he could hurt you, he wants to hurt you —

you tilt your head back, you run your hands across his shoulders, over his back, up into his hair, and you grab a handful and pull. he makes a noise like a wounded dog. he pants for it, folds forward like he got the breath knocked out of him — you think he’s mine, he’s mine, he’s mine, feel him kick up against you, big and warm and hard against your hip and your head swims with the thought. over and over, the same thought — mine, mine, mine.

yeah, sweet thing, m’yours, all yours, all of it, all yours, he whines, just for you. must’ve heard you, must’ve said it out loud. he sounds hollowed out, like you’ve let all his air out, and you’re wild for it.

tell me how, you say. you tug his head down so you can speak into his ear, and he goes down easy, so easy. when i let you take me to bed, when i let you have it, what will you do to me? what first?

a knife, he says, like a man possessed. toys with all your straps, slips his fingers underneath and tugs. wanna cut you out of this pretty fabric. look like an angel, wanna rip it to shreds, lay you down in the ribbons.

to ruin me, you say.

to make your heart race, he sings. he sways into you, sounds so consumed with desire it makes him drunk, makes him slur his words like his teeth are too big for his mouth. make you scared, make you wanna run so i can catch you. hold you down, press the blade up against your skin and play.

he wants to play. with a knife to your neck. fucking freak.

yours, yours, yours, he says. pulls back to look at you, hisses when you follow him with your hands in his hair, eyes rolling up and then back down, eyes half-shut, lights going out until it’s all a stretch of midnight without a star in the sky.

beautiful boy, you think. terrible, terrible, gorgeous boy.

wanna spit in your fucking mouth, he confesses. wanna hold my hand over your nose and watch your throat work as you swallow. wanna make you wet all over.

you’re already wet all over, and he knows that. can probably smell it, the wolf.

you’re still dancing, somehow. still swaying, still pressed up against each other, no room for common sense. his friends are nowhere to be seen — the crowd of bodies around you have all blurred away. you want to be home, in his bed, his lair, at his mercy. you tell him as much, and he smiles at you like he’s proud. love it when you tell me the truth, he says. love it when you show me.

better make it worth it, eddie, you say. better make it hard to leave your bed in the morning.

and then, he sings. and then, and then, and then.

greedy boy, you think, never gonna let me go, never gonna let anyone else touch me ever again.

you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, red and sweet and sharp. and then, you say, then you’re gonna feed me, like you always do.

#eddie x black!reader #dom eddie munson #eddie x y/n #eddie munson #eddie x reader #dark!eddie munson #dom!eddie munson #mean dom eddie munson #black!oc #black!y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut

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lostinlewis · 1 year

Text

In Another Life...

Rating: Soft, Angst

Words: 2350

It was hard to describe the emotions that ran through you, a lifetime of work finally being honoured by the very best in the industry, and fans that appreciated you so loudly, ones that you had acquired with little exchanges of soul crushing angst, along the way too.

The exhibit of your work was nearing its final few hours now as you felt the weight of the weekend finally begin to lift from your shoulders. Clutching a glass of wine you had taken from the waiter in the corner before he left the room, you allowed yourself a few moments to take in all that you had achieved.

The exhibition room was the largest the museum had, white walls that held framed displays of your words. Some long paragraphs that had resonated with the audience from the jump, other more unique sentences, sentences that you had written behind the mist of tears that flowed in abundance, sentences that told the world of your pain whilst your face told them of nothing but bravery.

It was as you stood in front of a line you favoured the most, a line that came from deep within your soul during one of the darkest periods of your life, a line you can still picture the scene of you writing, 3am in a London hotel drunk on room service champagne and day old mascara decorating your cheeks, you felt the cool room get warmer.

It was as you stood reading the sentence over and over again, mouthing the words as if you were revising them for a test you had later, that you felt a presence beside you, someone joining you to view the display, someone who had warmed the ice of an empty room within seconds of being inside of it.

“Maybe, just maybe, in another universe there is a version of us that made it.”

You could have been mistaken for it being the emotions of the weekend mixed in with the emotions of the text you read that made you confuse the voice that read the words out loud for the very person it was written about.

It couldn’t be, could it? After all these years, what were the chances it was him?

“Do you think there is?”

It was him. There was no mistaking that tone of voice, that unique tone, the unicorn of a British accent that was mixed with an American twang, it was him, after all these years, it was really him.

“What are you…why?”

It was as you looked at him that you felt the room begin to spin. He barely resembled the man you had fallen for all those years ago, he had a beard now, and longer hair to match too, but it was definitely him, the baby cow eyes with eyelashes you always envied confirmed to you that it was really him.

“I read an article about you this morning, it said you were in the city…I couldn’t not come, I tried but I couldn’t stay away.”

The honesty in his words was unexpected, he was never a liar when you knew him but he was also never a man who was quite so free with his thoughts. The years had changed him, the many years in which you had missed, had shaped him into a man that you always saw deep within him.

“This is…this is so…”

“Weird? I know, it’s weird for me too. It’s been a long time, a hell of a long time, but look at you…”

Lewis’ eyes drew down your body in a way that made you immediately shy. You thought to yourself of all the many outfits you would have chosen to wear had you had some warning of his arrival, a million different looks you would have gone for to impress him, but you knew you were being foolish, he was the past, there was no reason to satisfy the gaze of the past.

“You look great too. I heard you’ve been quite successful at that racing thing you always loved?”

For the first time in fifteen years you both shared a breathy laugh at the understatement of the century; success didn’t quite do his achievements justice, really.

“You could say that, but so have you. Best selling novelist? You always did love to write yet you always told me you lacked inspiration. I’m so glad you found it, eventually.”

The smile hadn’t quite lifted from your face, you tried to shield it a few times as you let the glass hover over your lips, sips of wine that was now too warm for you to enjoy, allowed you a little shy retreat from pouring your heart out in just a smile.

“I guess I should thank you for that really, it all started in the aftermath…in the aftermath, well in the aftermath of you.”

Lewis’ smile dropped and you knew what that meant, no matter the turbulence that your relationship had, and it had lots, he never wanted to hurt you, so to hear he had done that so perfectly it had inspired multiple stories, made him feel awful.

“I’m sorry for what happened, for letting you go…”

An apology he owed you, one that you also owed him, the breakdown of your relationship was equal parts your fault as it was his, yet you couldn’t quite bring yourself to return the courtesy, pride wouldn’t let you.

“...the truth is that losing you is still my biggest regret.”

“We were kids, Lewis. We both made mistakes, we both had no idea of what we actually wanted. It was a long time ago, a lot has happened since then…”

His smile was back, a half smile that resembled relief more than it did happiness as he made eye contact with you once more.

“That’s the tragedy of it really, so much time has passed. I've been to so many countries, I’ve been in so many rooms full of people, but not a single one of them could make my heart race the same way you did…”

Your eyes grew wide at his admission, sure he was the easiest man in the world to find out about had you wanted to, but you had known better than to ever seek that information out. Long gone were the days in which you chose to break your own heart, ignorance had remained quite a blissful existence.

“You never settled down? You never married?”

There was a look of shame in his eyes as he thought of his answer, a look of familiarity of questions he had been battling from the media - and his mother - his whole adult life.

“The truth is…well, you are still the first person I want to call when I am happy, and when I am sad. I couldn’t do that to another, I couldn’t give them a part of me knowing I would never be able to give them the whole of me.”

“Lewis, that’s silly…it was…we were so long ago now.”

The way in which he shook his head in disagreement was almost heartbreaking, you felt an urge to wrap your arms around him, to comfort him, to tell him that he was free now to find another to love him, but you couldn’t.

You couldn’t do that for him because the close contact would have been unbearable for you but mostly you couldn’t do that because you were selfish, despite how you insisted and portrayed a woman who would give someone everything she had if they needed it, with Lewis you were selfish, you always had been.

The thought of him loving another, the thought of another woman waking with those arms you had found so much comfort in, wrapped around her, another woman finding peace in a man who had once been your own, tortured you more than any other thought.

Lewis made you the woman you were today in many ways, he taught you strength, he taught you self love, he taught you courage to chase dreams you had held secret forever, but he also taught you selfishness and greed. You had never quite had your fill of Lewis, and forever you would feel hard done by in that regard.

“Mummy, mummy!”

The little girl's voice startled you both as she appeared like a whippet in the room, running over to where your numb with shock body stood next to the man she never even knew existed, yet he was the man who was the biggest part of your life before her.

“Hey sweetie.”

Your daughter wrapped her arms around your legs, it was about as high as she could reach. She was too young to realise what this moment was but as she stared at the stranger who was causing the tension she could feel in the room, she could sense his importance somehow.

“Daddy said he’s going to take us all for ice cream, are you almost finished?”

You had never regretted your children, you loved both of them more than you ever thought possible, but selfishly in that moment you wished your daughter would leave, you wished that she would grant you an extra five minutes with your past, you hoped she would find her way back to your husband, to your son, to the world that was now your present and your future, and just wait for you to finish with your past.

They had you all the time and they would have you in the future, surely they could spare a few minutes for the past?

“Go be with your family.”

You could hear the pain in his voice as Lewis stared down at the little girl that resembled the greatest love of his lifetime, so much so it shook him to his core.

He was right, you knew it. What you were doing right now was only opening old wounds that had long scarred over with tissue that was just strong enough to hold you together, whilst also being so fragile that the littlest thing could tear you apart once more.

“I’ll be right along, sweetie. Go tell Daddy to find the best ice cream shop in town, we are celebrating after all.”

The little girl ran back through the door in which she appeared, leaving you alone in a room so large that even a whisper created an echo, with a man whose presence made you want to scream a thousand sentences of heartbreak he had inspired.

“Thank you for coming, Lewis…”

Never before him and never after him had you met a man whose face told of his emotions with ease, he could never really lie, his eyes would tell you all you needed to know in the wrinkles that decorated them.

You could see it in the way his smile, although wide, was not quite wide enough to make it believable as it didn’t reach anywhere near his eyes. He didn’t want you to leave, he wasn’t happy to send you back to your family, but you could also see the pride of the young man you fell in love with all of those years ago, being matured into the man he stood before you now, a man who put everyone before himself, a man who loved even when he knew it was fruitless, and with you it was exactly that.

He took your hand and you jumped in your spot a little, it had been fifteen years since you were held by him, it was long enough for him to feel like a stranger now yet he didn’t, you knew him, your body knew him, and as he brought your hand up to his lips to kiss it, you closed your eyes to wish him to never ever stop.

“In another life, beautiful. In another life I would be waiting in the car for you. In another life I would have never let you leave.”

It was hard enough walking away from Lewis the first time you did it but this time was ten times harder. The first time you had hope still that it was temporary, that somehow fate and the gods you prayed to would guide you back to him, but this time you weren’t so foolish.

As you walked away from the man you had never quite gotten over, you turned back to look at him for one last time.

“Lewis…”

You called out to him as he faced the words you had written about him so many years ago, asking him to look at you for the final time.

“...what you said about another universe, I know that it’s true, I know that I will love you in this life, in the next and the one after that too.”

You didn’t linger to see if his smile reached his eyes this time, you couldn’t face him any longer and as you made your way out of the room, through the now empty building, and headed towards the car that carried your life now, a single tear rolled down your cheek, a tear that symbolised the remnants of the feelings you had for the man, the feelings that quickly held at your jaw before falling to the floor of the museum.

It was quite fitting actually, that not only were you leaving Lewis behind as you walked through the huge glass doors that evening, that you were also leaving the feelings that you had harboured for him there too.

It was time to move on, it was time to recover and it was time for you to accept that not all love stories end in a happy ever after, some love stories are chapters rather than novels, and whilst your Lewis chapter would certainly be one of your favourites in this lifetime, it wouldn’t be your best selling novel, that was an honour held for the man who had taught you how to love again and the children that had shown you a love that was unconditional.

And besides, Lewis always had your next lifetime to try and make your story last longer than a few lines.

#Lewis #soft #In Another Life

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thebiggerbear · 5 months

Text

A Little Preview - TGACFY Chap 2 - Beau Arlen x Female Reader - 12/2/23

A/N: Hey guys, I am so sorry it's taking me so long to get this chapter out to you. The date scene is what's holding me up; the rest of the chapter is written. There are things I need to set up in that scene that are in relation to the big case story line as well as for the reader's background while setting her and Beau up and other things to come in the story for them. (my poor beta, if you only knew how much I'm putting her through with this one chapter; the amount of back and forth we've had over these past few months alone lol) So I apologize; I just want to get it right. I promise it will be coming to you soon. Thank you for your continued patience.

In the meantime, I think it's only fair to you for me to post a little preview of the chapter. I took out any specific spoilers.

Tag list: @deans-spinster-witch; @superrey; @fromcaintodean; @stoneyggirl2; @lacilou; @zepskies; @perpetualabsurdity; @deansbbyx; @syrma-sensei

This is all unbeta'd right now so all mistakes are mine.

<-->

Once you stepped outside, you did a quick scan of the area and found the man you were looking for. He was in a different car this time, a rust-colored truck that had definitely seen better days.

He had just turned to look at the entrance when he spotted you, eyes widening slightly. He hurried to get out of his car and began to approach you. You decided to meet him halfway, thankful there wasn’t really anyone milling around at that moment.

Before he could get a word out, you noticed the new look right away.

“You changed,” you accused.

“So did you,” he pointed out, his eyes roving over you.

You nervously smoothed down the skirt of your dress with your fingers. “I wasn’t sure if there was a dress code where we were going. I should have asked. Is this okay?”

He nodded, a slow smile forming on his face. “More than okay. You look amazing,” he breathed.

You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, you look great, too.” You took him in and definitely liked what you saw. No hat, a button-down that hugged him in all the right places, jeans, short brown wavy hair that looked to be the right length for you to run your fingers through, a touched up beard from earlier, and a warm grin. “So you put the cowboy away.”

He chuckled and you could swear you could see a faint pink color dusting his cheeks, though it wasn’t easy to tell in this light. “A little bit.” He gestured towards his cowboy boots, making you let out a quiet laugh.

“I like it.” You gave him a kind smile; you truly did like what you saw.

His smile grew and he held out an arm in invitation. “Shall we, little lady?”

“Oh no, you didn’t.”

Chuckling once more, he lowered his arm and moved closer. “Too much?”

“Way too much.”

This time, he held out his hand to you in offering, and tried again, giving you his most charming smile. “Ready, Beautiful?”

Choosing to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat, you placed your hand in his and gave him a nod of approval. “Better. Still needs work, but better.” You could feel the warmth of his skin seeping into yours and you almost wanted to intertwine your fingers with his to feel more of it, but that would be too forward of you and might make things awkward. You hadn’t even gone on the date yet. So instead, you smiled when you felt the strength of his grip and let him lead you wherever he intended to go.

He started towards the truck. “Already, you are one tough woman to please. I hope this isn’t a sign of how the rest of our night will go,” he quipped.

“Depends on how hard you work to please me.”

His eyes snapped to yours and seeing your teasing grin, he shook his head, looking away, clearly amused. “I really got myself into something here, didn't I?”

“You did,” you laughed.

“You know, they say you East Coast girls can be difficult to satisfy.” You noticed the twang purposely deepen as he teased you back.

Once you reached the car, he opened your door for you. “You know, they say you Texan cowboys never met a challenge you didn’t like.” You moved past him, not missing the smirk on his face and the shake of his head, and slipped into the passenger seat. He closed your door for you and you rearranged your dress by the time he joined you inside.

He turned a smile on you. “Ready?”

You returned it and gave him a nod after having buckled your seat belt. “Ready.”

You watched as his smile broadened and he started up the car, thinking this date was already going better than the other two you’d had since coming here.

<-->

A/N: What'd you guys think of their interaction? How do you think the date will go? What do you hope happens? Please let me know what you think. 😊

#the ghosts are coming for you #beau arlen x female reader #the ghosts are coming for you chapter 2 preview #writing previews

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slytherhys · 1 year

Note

Elriel,

T: there’s only one bed 😈

AU: November prompt turned Christmas prompt. 🎅 This will be a 3 part story (the 3rd chapter will mostly be fluff and probably small but the holiday spirit remains). I hope you don't mind the christmas twist but I just had to write this...

TW: Explicit Sexual Content (in part II) & strong language

Chapter II

One Night Only I - an Elriel Christmas Story

Elain gulped – loudly, if the look Nesta sent her way was any indication – as she stared at Feyre with something akin to horror plastered on her face. She couldn’t possibly be hearing her correctly – there was simply no way. Maybe Feyre had developed a twisted sense of humour that only resurfaced during the Holidays for some reason; maybe their father hadn’t given her enough love and care as a child or maybe this was her pregnancy brain refusing to leave even though Nyx was already three years old, babbling words Rhys swore he didn’t learn from him (he absolutely did).

The living room, on all accounts, looked like the picture-perfect holiday card. White Christmas played softly in the background, snow falling just outside the window of the tastefully decorated room. Nesta was sitting by the fireplace, leaning against Cassian with a book resting on her lap as they both eyed the scene in front of them with joyful curiosity. Nyx was on the floor, his little mouth covered in chocolate as he played with his toys, completely oblivious to the tension that threatened to choke the air out of Elain’s lungs. Feyre and Rhys had greeted her with matching Christmas pyjamas, a hot cocoa mug and tired yet satisfied smiles on their faces. Elain ought to feel happy, relaxed… if only Azriel Rosehall hadn’t arrived at the exact same time as her, trailing after her with the excitement of a kid going to the dentist.

She really shouldn’t be bothered by how unaffected he seemed by her, but Elain couldn’t get over it. How he barely looked at her, how he avoided uttering a single word in her direction and how much he seemed to avoid her presence in general. She usually managed to ignore it, but some days were harder than others. And today was definitely harder – specially when Feyre announced with a slight wince that she didn’t have enough beds for everyone.

Elain was still in her winter coat despite the fire crackling in the pit, but she couldn’t be sure if the sweat coating her skin wasn’t purely due to the panic that coursed through her veins as she stared at her sister. She could feel a presence behind her, as if the winter cold had been bundled up into a single man, his presence a dark shadow that seemed to follow her everywhere she went.

Elain laughed, and it might have sounded a bit hysterical – even if everyone in the room politely pretended not to notice. “What do you mean?” She chuckled nervously, feeling her face heat under the pitying look Rhys was sending her way and the smirk Cassian’s stupid face refused to drop – even if Nesta kept punching him in the arm.

“I’m sorry, El.” Her sister said, and, in Feyre’s defence, she did look remorseful. “We just weren’t expecting…” Feyre looked pale, her eyes frantically looking around the living room as if searching for the right words to use. “everyone to come.” She chuckled nervously, and Elain pretended not to notice how Rhys stood closer to Feyre, ready to defend his wife if anyone dared get mad at her (how he managed to look threatening in Christmas pyjamas was truly an enigma).

Elain felt a twang of regret hit her right in the chest. She bit her tongue at the news: so what if Feyre hadn’t warned her in time for her to stay home instead – it was her fault, truly. Thanks to the growing demand her bakery had faced in the past few months she had only managed to give Feyre a definite response a few days ago, once she knew Nuala and Cerridwen could handle all their Christmas orders.

It's not like she’d ever miss spending Christmas with her family – mainly considering it was the first time Feyre and Rhys were hosting since Nyx had been born – but she couldn’t exactly fault them for not counting on her. Ever since Elain had opened her bakery in downtown Velaris spending time with her family had, regretfully, become less and less frequent. Not by choice though; Never by choice.

She glanced at the dark shadow that stood behind her, hands hidden in the pockets of his suit (even if it was Christmas Eve and it was snowing) as he listened to their conversation with passing interest. Mother forbid Azriel Rosehall ever show anything close to emotion other than a stupidly annoying smirk. Elain didn’t know why he looked so pleased with himself – she knew for a fact Feyre and Rhys were also surprised by his presence. If Elain’s visits were rare, Azriel’s were basically non-existent. Elain hadn’t forgotten the amount of times Feyre had called her to see if she knew anything about Azriel’s whereabouts.

Why they thought Elain could possibly know anything about him was beyond her, but she refrained from asking.

“So should I…go home?” Elain frowned, ignoring the white-hot panic that seemed to flare through her body. It was doable. She only lived two hours away and she could be back tomorrow morning. Sure, the idea of driving at night when it was snowing made her want to drop to her knees and beg them to let her sleep out in the garden instead, but she refused to ruin Christmas. This was important to Feyre and she would rather spend the night driving than cause her sister any more stress.

“Well, no. We actually have a, erm, solution.” Feyre tried, eyeing Rhys with reluctancy. Rhys smirked slightly, bending down to pick up Nyx from the floor, using his son as a shield. Coward. Feyre rolled her eyes before turning to her again, a blinding smile on her pretty face. Elain raised an eyebrow, immediately suspicious.

“Sure you do.” Cassian sneakered, earning a glare from Feyre and another punch from Nesta. The male flinched, mumbling something about the Archerons before he stepped closer to Rhys and Nyx. Not for the first time, Elain felt like the odd one out. Did they know something she didn’t? She looked at Azriel, but he only eyed Feyre with mild suspicion.

“Every hotel in the area will be booked, Feyre.” His midnight voiced sounded through the room, and if a shiver went up Elain’s spine it was definitely because of the wind howling outside. Elain actively ignored Nesta’s knowing gaze, choosing to stare at Feyre instead. “It’s Christmas Eve.” He added, as if the reminder was needed.

Elain turned slightly, ignoring the heat that flooded her cheeks as he turned his gaze to her. “Do you have any suggestions or are you just going to be a-”

“We have a bed!” Feyre interrupted loudly; cheeks flushed as she stared at them both. “I mean, a room.”

“Nice save.” Cassian muttered, and promptly looked away from Rhys’s glare.

“A bed?” Elain squeaked, clearing her throat before speaking again. “Then where is he sleeping?”

“Concerned, are we?” Azriel teased, and the taunt in his voice sent lighting up her veins. Mother, he was annoying.

Feyre sighed, sitting next to Rhys as if finally giving up on them both. Elain couldn’t blame her. “He’s sleeping in the bed, El.” She explained calmly. Elain frowned.

“Oh.” She felt her shoulders drop. Right.

Elain bit her tongue at that: so what if Feyre hadn’t warned her in time for her to stay home instead of making two unnecessary trips on Christmas Eve – it was all her fault, truly. And she wouldn’t ruin Christmas. Absolutely not.

Sure, it stung that Feyre was giving the only available room to Azriel, but could Elain blame her? They were both absent from their lives, but Elain still lived closed by. Azriel never stopped for long in the same place, so having him home for the first time in months was a blessing neither Feyre nor Rhys wanted to miss on. Certainly not Nyx, Elain thought as she watched her nephew run on wobbly legs to his uncle, childish glee clear in his laughter. Azriel picked him with ease, a smile on his face that had absolutely no business making Elain shiver.

Maybe she had a cold.

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts as she reached for the handle of her suitcase, plastering a smile on her face as she looked back at her Feyre. “Absolutely!” She said with entirely too much glee. Nesta shook her head slightly, hiding the smile behind the book she was now using to cover her face. Elain cleared her throat and tried again. “That’s perfectly fine.” She smiled again, her face muscles straining against the herculean effort. “I’m also pretty sure I forgot to leave my doorman his gift so this is actually perfect for me-“

Feyre frowned. “What?” She mumbled as Rhys raised an eyebrow at Elain’s rambling.

“-I don’t know when I’m seeing him again and I truly wanted to give him something. I bought him a sweater, you see, and a doll for his girls. The new one from-“

“Settle down, Santa.” Azriel interrupted her just as she was reaching for the door handle, a stupid smirk on his stupid face as he stepped closer, Nyx babbling nonsense and playing with his cobalt tie. Elain envied him for his obliviousness. “I don’t think you’re quite understanding what’s going on here.”

Elain frowned but refrained from talking – considering she was clearly set on making an absolute fool of herself every time she opened her mouth. Then Elain scowled because what did he mean she didn’t quite understand what was happening? And why did he seem so pleased at her confusion? There was only one bed; one where Azriel would be sleeping tonight. And if she recalled correctly (and she was pretty sure she did) Feyre hadn’t exactly denied her suggestion of going home for tonight. The living room couch, Elain knew, would be where both Mor and Emerie would be staying once. So what exactly was the…

Elain’s eyes widened just as Azriel’s smirk deepened. Oh fuck no.

“What?” She squealed, the word like sandpaper in her throat.

“It appears we’re sleeping together tonight, Elain.” He bent slightly, his lips grazing her ear. “Merry Christmas.”

#One Night Only #Elriel fic #elriel #pro elriel #christmas writing #christmas #pro feysand #pro nessian

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iguana-braces · 2 years

Text

Easy Come, Easy Go (Hangman x Reader)

Masterlist

Description: Getting a little too excited with Jake turns out better than you expect…

Warnings: f!reader, mentions of drinking, explicit language, explicit content, frottage (we really need a better word for this)

Word Count: 780 (just a lil sumthin’ sumthin’)

Note: No, this wasn’t on my WIP list but here it is anyway, surprise! Shoutout to the wonderful @minilpark for the prompt that jump-started my SereSIN Machine (aka my brain) again 💕💕

(I’m so sorry for the pun title, it’s 1am and that’s the best I got)

MINORS DNI, 18+

You had been 95% sure tonight would end like any other night out. Despite the two hours of effort you’d spent getting ready, despite the skirt you were wearing that showed a little too much skin if you moved the wrong way, you'd probably be going home alone, preparing to spend the next week clearing away the rubble of your demolished self-esteem. But it seems that the fates had finally smiled down on you because it didn't take long after your arrival at The Hard Deck before a handsome stranger caught your eye. And you had caught his.

He bought you a drink, you watched him destroy his competition at darts without even trying. And now here you were, pressed between the blonde's muscular body and the exterior back wall of the bar, roaming hands groping eagerly at clothing and flesh alike, making out like two horny teenagers. Jake, he had said his name was. He was a pilot, and you detected the slight twang of a southern accent in his voice. That was all you'd had time to learn about him before a husky whisper in your ear invited you to get some air with him. You let him lead you around the side of the building and the rest was history.

At least knowing the vague beginnings of his identity calmed your nerves about the brazenness of your situation. Your little patch of wall was partially hidden from the parking lot by the garbage shed, but it was fully exposed to the beach. The dunes were deserted, but anyone looking for a late night stroll under the stars might end up as an unwitting voyeur to you and this stranger– to you and Jake's impromptu rendezvous.

His thigh parted your legs, pressing against your already soaked underwear. You instinctively began to roll your hips against his leg, slowly at first, just subtle shifts of your weight. But all too soon your libido won out over your willpower and then his hand was on your ass, guiding your movements as you grinded on him unrestrained.

Still without breaking your kiss, his other hand pulled one of yours down between the two of you. You almost gasped when he pressed your palm against his zipper, dragging it over the hard length under his service uniform. He was already throbbing under your touch and the thought of what the night had left in store for you sent shivers through your body. You needed more, now.

Pulling him in rhythm with you against your gyrations, within a few more moments the pleasure that had been building in you peaked. Your legs clenched around Jake’s, fingers digging into his back as your body went rigid in his arms. A few whimpering moans slipped out against his lips, turning into shuddering sighs as you caught your breath.

“Did you just…” You didn't meet his eyes, trying to regain your composure. There was a tone of amusement in his voice as he asked, “Is that seriously all it takes to get you off?”

As your mind started to clear again, you realized how little time had actually passed since you left the bar. It felt longer in the heat of the moment, but now– Were you really that sensitive, or just that desperate?

“Sorry,” you muttered, “I–”

“Don’t be sorry, darlin’,” he said, his lips spreading into a dazzling grin. “I was just wondering… because you can come again, right?”

Despite your rude awakening, you were still holding tightly to a very good-looking, very well-endowed pilot and one quick dry-hump did little to satisfy the burning need racing through you. “Uh, yeah?”

“Well then, why don’t you and I set some records tonight?" Jake’s hand tilted your chin to meet his gaze. "See just how many times I can get you to make that cute noise."

You flushed, almost forgetting how to speak entirely. But finally, you willed your head into a nod, adding, "Maybe somewhere a little more private."

"What, you don't want the whole beach to know how good I can make you feel?"

It was an enticing offer when he said it like that, his voice in a rough whisper as he leaned in again, letting his hand take the place of his thigh between your legs. But it seemed that you’d be pushing plenty of limits tonight, so he could at least adhere to your desire for privacy. "I'd be a lot more comfortable elsewhere."

Jake nodded, stepping back from you but keeping a tight grip on your arm as you regained your balance, your legs just now protesting at the strange position you’d just been in. "Alright then, lead the way."

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun fic

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three-word-count · 1 year

Text

The Taste of Home

Chapter Two: Delphinium

read Chapter One on tumblr here

Saeran x reader, post-after-ending domestics

Word count: 1128

Read on Ao3 link with author notes

[ I love even the parts of you I cannot see. Everything related to you is lovely. ]

…

Saeran had no idea.

The two of you often went thrifting. It was a wonderful way to spend time together in a different place, enraptured by all the curious little items filling up the shelves in droves. It was one of his favorite newly discovered hobbies. There was far more to be seen than inside a retail homestore.

Often, you found hidden treasures in the forms of random knick knacks that now dotted across your shared dresser at home, or ornate picture frames that held your photos proudly on walls. Sometimes Ray found a garden chair that he just had to take home. Sometimes you didn't have to buy anything at all to have fun. You'd even goof off sometimes, sitting at a worn down dining room set having an idle chat over imaginary tea, or suddenly launching yourself into some puffy old recliner much to his startlement.

And rarely, you'd find an old, forgotten instrument, hidden among the mess of it all.

He hadn't expected anything out of the usual from you with it. Just the standard schedule of messing around for kicks. Perhaps a quick quip of, “Look, my love! I’m a star!” which he’d answer with a feigned profession of how much he admired your musical prowess, claiming to own all your vinyl albums (Some encased in frames, too, he may add! A divine complement!) as your absolute number one fan (this part of his fictional claim, however, was true).

But he didn't know.

Really.

He stood with his arm crossed loosely, an amused grin on his face as he expected you to put on a messy show for a cute little memory that he could store away inside his mind.

Until you sounded your first chord.

Your face looked like that of home. A softened smile. Shining eyes that hid a shade of sadness for something you'd left behind and missed dearly.

Your second chord. Slow and tentative as your fingers did exactly what they needed to do, a satisfied emotion adding to the pool within your eyes as you confirmed that you still remembered it after so many years. A single, shy laugh of content.

You let the so-deeply ingrained muscle memory take control, bliss carrying you through the song you knew like the back of your hand. After years of being buried in your head’s dusty recesses, rust was sure to be expected. But any blemish in the twangs of an off-key strike were lost to Saeran’s ears as all he heard were the celestial chords of nothing less than perfection. It was music to his ears, in more ways than one.

The notes melted in his ears like the honey in his morning green tea, rejuvenated him like a cool dawn breeze, woke him up like the sun. The taste of your happiness flowed through the air like syrup he poured over his sundaes, sweetening his heart at the sight of you so confidently sharing your art. He was proud. Proud to know someone like you, who felt safe enough to expose your hidden passions to him with no hesitation. Proud to be with someone like you, who allowed him to bask in your light and accept his place by your side. Proud to see you for you. He was also very much in love, as if he couldn't possibly fall any deeper with you already, but you proved him wrong time and time again as he tumbled harder for your every revealed facet even further than before.

You hadn’t taken notice of his expression until you finished your short song. “Speechless, Ray…? Come on now, I'm not that good,” you laughed.

He stood, mouth agape, his cheeks dusted a shade of pink enough to rival his highlights. “I didn’t know you could play,” he gawked.

“Ahh, it was just an old hobby. It's nothing special or anyth-”

“Yes it is!”

You were a bit taken aback by his interjection, a rather unusual event coming from Saeran. He was rarely ever vocally worked up, outside of displaying excitement for his latest fresh-budding flowers, avidly defending “pesky” pollinators and misunderstood animals that were crucial to ecosystems, or of course during your commonly traded info-dump sessions.

“That was… that was more than special! I didn’t know that you…!” He trailed off and instead gestured at you excitedly.

“Ahh, well, you know…” you shrugged, “It’s not like I have any instruments here. It just wasn't important to mention before.”

“It’s important to me, now, though. It’s something you enjoy, isn’t it…?”

“Uh… Yeah… I guess. It’s just that I haven't had the access or ability since I’ve moved into Seoul. So I kinda just… left it behind. It’s alright though. It happens.”

Saeran only stared at you, a hurt look on his face. “But you looked so happy, just then,” he lamented. “I’d rather you enjoy yourself than give up something you loved just from moving on to a new way of life. I still enjoy gardening after… after everything. I want you to have something like that, too.”

“I like gardening with you.”

“No, no, something different. Something just for you. You help me a lot with harvests and care, but you also let me have time just for myself when I need it. I’ve spent some days in the greenhouse alone with my thoughts, watching the clouds pass by above me through the glass. We all need things just for ourselves sometimes. I know you tend to neglect that.”

You thought about that statement. You had hobbies, didn’t you? Were you too lost in forging your new path nowadays and you just hadn’t noticed? You didn’t want to see that as the truth. You know how it hurts to lose parts of yourself. You already lost music when you left it behind for your move to Seoul.

“I… make things sometimes,” you countered, using your arsenal of crafts and doodles scattered around the house as ammunition.

“Not as often as you’d like. I know that. I’ve been there. I can see it.” He reached out to hold your hand, lifting it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “I want you to be happy, my love. I want you to take advantage of the freedom you have in our shared home now. Like me.”

You felt a sting in your eyes. “You always know exactly what to say, don't you,” you resigned.

He hummed. “Not always. It’s something I’ve learned. I only want the best for you.”

You leaned into him, melting into a hug. “I love you,” you whispered into his ear.

“And I love you. Now,” he said, pulling back to look you in the eyes, “shall we buy it? I know exactly where it would look beautifully back home.”

#this is the Worst time to post this. oh well. /releases it into the tags like a wild animal/#three writes something #mystic messenger #mysme #saeran choi #saeran x reader

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mlmxreader · 2 years

Text

If You Have The Time | Corinthian x m!reader

@the-corinthian-og-begay-docrimes asked: Cowboy corinthian x Cowboy reader

Yeehawww

summary: a cowboy by trade, Corinthian has always liked you enough to get himself a job doing the same thing, he just can hardly believe it when you have time to grab a drink with him for once.

tws: swearing, smoking, brief mentions of animal abuse, mentions of murder

The cattle called out as they moved from their barn to the pasture, walking slow and lazy like they didn't have a damn care in the world, and as you leaned forward in the saddle, daring to pat your horse's neck as you sighed and thought about whether or not to light up a cigarette; the wind was soft and gentle, the rain had stopped some hours ago and although there was a chill in the air, it wasn't exactly unpleasant. The horse sighed, like he had some burden on his shoulders that you could never understand; even in the low light of the evening, his coat seemed to shine. A Welsh cob, he had a beautiful golden brown body with white hooves and a golden mane and tail, he was a loyal and calm animal and had never given you any trouble; but when he noticed the other rider, he perked up.

You knew the rider well, recognised his grey Mustang anywhere, and as he pulled up beside you, you couldn't help but to smile; tall, blonde and handsome, he grinned and tilted his head just enough that his dark sunglasses caught the dying sun.

"This ain't half a surprise," you chuckled. "I thought you were off in the big city to talk about business."

"I came back early," he shrugged, his voice so low and his accent making you shiver a little. He always had that kind of country twang and that southern drawl that made you more than weak in the knees. "It a crime to wanna see you?"

You dared to scoff, shaking your head as you adjusted your black hat. He always wore a slightly off-white on, always matched his coats. "Y'know, I kinda missed you, Corinthian."

He hummed, looking out and over at the cattle; they were quite happy to graze, paying no mind to the horses and even less mind to the greyhound that slept by the pasture gate; its dark brown fur looked black without the light of the afternoon. "Of course you did. You'd miss me if I was gone for half an hour."

"Yeah, maybe," you admitted with a nod and a grin. "It's lonely without you."

Corinthian licked his lips, nodding a little as he let out a soft breath; he missed being out on the ranches more than he wanted to admit. It was quiet, it was calm, and the best part of it was that you were there; you were always there. The only mortal he had ever given a fuck about, he cared about you enough to take up a job as a fucking cowboy; he really, really liked you. Sure, he went to the city every now and then to indulge in certain urges he could never satisfy; the taste of eyes still lingered on his tongue as he dared to steal a look at you. His cowboy. Fuck, he really liked you. You were a good man, you cared a lot about your cattle and the lazy greyhound and the horse you had raised from a foal, you did your best and you took pride in your ranch; he supposed that that had something to do with the fact that it was once your father's. Corinthian could never take your eyes, even if he had taken the eyes from a farmhand he caught punching one of the cows, but he hadn't told you about that.

"It's lonely without you, too," Corinthian admitted quietly. "I'd take you with me next time but-"

"You'd have to handcuff me, knock me out with ketamine and fucking drag me kicking and screaming," you grumbled. "You know me and cities don't mix. Never have."

"A country boy through and through," he dared to laugh a little. "You never told me if you wanted that drink, by the way."

"I've got time tonight," you looked at your watch and nodded. "Yeah, I've got plenty of time."

That drink. Corinthian had asked you so long ago if you wanted to head down to the local pub for one, and you had almost completely forgotten about it; but now you had the time for it, you could actually go and grab that drink.

"Wow, the cowboy has time for me," Corinthian teased. "That's a first."

"Oh, shut it," you chuckled, shaking your head and finally reaching in your pocket for that cigarette you wanted so badly. "You want one?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, letting you epark it up for him before he took it. "What time tonight do you wanna grab that drink?"

"How does six sound?" You asked, and when he agreed, you dared to flash him a smile that made his knees go weak. "You can, uh, you can hang around here for a while before we go, if, if you want."

"I'd like that, yeah... maybe we can even go dancing tonight, if you've got the time."

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

#mlem writes #the corinthian x y/n #the corinthian x reader #corinthian x you #corinthian x y/n #corinthian x reader #the corinthian imagine #corinthian #the corinthian #Corinthian imagine #the sandman x reader #the sandman imagine #sandman imagine #sandman x reader #the sandman #sandman

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killsaint · 7 months

Text

MISSY V2 PATCH NOTES

- Old pickups (Curtis Novak JM-V/JM-FAT) swapped out for new pickups (Madlove JM-WR humbuckers)

- Added push-pull pot for coil splitting

- Added kinman treble bleed circuit (note: currently a non-factor. i fried the volume pot on accident and it has none of its taper anymore, instead staying at max volume until you set the volume to 1, at which point it cuts out)

- Changed volume pot value from 500k to 1 meg

- Swapped from d'addario 10-46 NYXL's to 11-52 XL'S

- Changed back to original color scheme (minus white pickup selector switch tip cuz i couldn't find it)

(thoughts under read more)

now see these are some damn good pickups. they definitely have those "single-coil characteristics" that people talk about w/ wide range humbuckers. they're smooth and loud but still have some sparkle and twang.

that said, I think i might still prefer the novaks purely because of the middle position on those. they were really bouncy and pleasant. and hum-cancelling. overpowered. i only switched to these because the wiring in my house was done by the actual devil and my room is a massive interference nexus. but i can't hear any noise over my playing now so this is a W. i've still got coil split anyway

and speaking of the coil split! i'm not like, blown away, but i do like how it sounds. outside of the volume drop, i mean. but i probably wouldn't be using the coil split live anyway. so a recording tool it is.

i am really enjoying the 11's over the 10's actually. they just feel more secure and have way more low end response. i just need to get used to bending with them and we'll be fine.

and god she looks gorgeous now. leeuwen definitely had the right idea with the color scheme. she's got that "i need to pick that thing up right now" factor

all in all, i'm satisfied except for the volume pot shenanigans. i will have to order new pots soon. and hopefully not melt the internals this time.

#noise #guitars #jazzmaster

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minuy600 · 9 months

Text

Review #0004: Dominos (Arcade)

We’ve hit another milestone, as i’ve already hit 1977’s lineup of games. There’s a lot more to explore here than previously, the Atari 2600 is making it’s debut and there’s plenty of arcade games that DID see a rerelease here. Even if all of it is still Atari stuff, the variety is definitely picking up here.

Dominos is an extremely simple one to get through, so this one’ll be nice and brief. Apparently this was basically a copied idea from 1975’s Blockade, but as I got no way to actually play that one, this’ll be my first rodeo with the concept.

Graphics (2.5/5)

Very simple and to the point. Rectangles to represent the dominos you lay down, and arrows to show where you currently are. You can tell it’s based on the same microprocessor as Sprint 2, though i’ll admit I find those graphics a bit more impressive than these. However, one could argue that these simple graphics are more justified as there is less to imagine about. I am gonna go straight down the middle here again.

Sound (4.5/5)

For some reason, I find these incredibly satisfying. The gradually speeding up noise of your trail becoming longer and longer, it’s brilliant, it reminds me of something you’d get on MS-DOS- at least I THINK that’s what that console is like.

Then there’s the really neat ‘twang’ noise, followed by downright godlike tapping noises as your or the opponent’s dominos fall down. Lovely.

I cannot give this a perfect score, there’s no music, only 3 noises and it’s very much hit and miss for those around you. I don’t care though. This is beautiful.

Gameplay (3.5/5)

Extremely simple in premise and very familiar to those who had any kind of Nokia phone in the 90s or 2000s, you slither around, leaving a trail of domino bricks behind, with your opponent doing the exact same. Hit one of the trails first and the opponent gets a point. Get a certain amount of points and bam, it’s done. The game speeds up over time as well, cuz of course it would.

It ain’t much, but it’s a solid concept and everyone and their mom copied it over to their console after Blockade opened the floodgates. We’ll be seeing Surround explore the concept on the Atari 2600 later in 1977, even. Snake is an obviously even more famous game that translated this to a singleplayer experience.

This is a solid quick game, really. Not much to complain about, all it lacks is some variety. Speaking of…

Longevity (1.5/5)

There is none. Your setting is to select how long a round lasts. That’s it. Of course, the multiplayer aspect does allow it for an occasional bout of fun, but if you wanna spice this one up, that’s an absolute no-go. I find it almost inexcusable, honestly, with the game that’s almost coming up for home TV play by the same company. No high scores and extremely brief playtime makes this one of the LEAST bang-for-your-buck plays in the arcade at the time. I believe it also did not do too hot there, like yeah, no wonder.

Overall (6/10)

This is a very enjoyable game concept that definitely deserves it’s copycats (like this game), and the sounds in this one make me swoon. It’s just that it’s completely devoid of personality otherwise and has nothing to do after a few measly short rounds. This is cool for a couple minutes, then you should go home and play Surround instead.

#arcade #atari #minuy600 #retro gaming #review #sona #dominos #1977

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pagerunner-j · 1 year

Text

Some TLOVM new-episode notes, under a cut 'cause there's some great stuff here and I, uh, went on for a bit:

Not gonna lie, I was halfway expecting the theme to The Neverending Story after that Falcor-looking fucker flew by.

Watching an animated version of something I watched happen in person in a live episode is a damn trip. I feel like I should be sitting in a movie theater on Pico all over again...

Grog all torn up over hurting Pike: *tinysob*

Put...the sword...down....Grog...

Okay, putting it down in a rock will do. More dramatic than a pocket dimension, anyway.

Percy, stop trying to sound like an expert and get on with flirting with grass.

Hey! Laura found her best friend from the next campaign! Convenient!

Honestly, I'm kinda liking how they're shifting things around with Grog. Having this fit in with his whole "where do you get your strength?" theme works.

Hi there, Billy! Nice to hear you here!

Arta -- ahem -- Garmelie drawing dicks? Fancy that.

Vax, you're cruising for a bruising here, and by that I mean my palm across your face. Chill.

Ashley and Sam going full country twang: bwahahaohdearhelpme.

(it works, though)

Pikey made the Scan-man bluuuuuush...

PokéTrinket!

...I think I read this in a fanfic once.

(istg it's fucking pollen they knew what they were doing)

Diplomacy in action! About time.

Well, the boys are talking again. That's good.

"We are all just prisoners of our own anxieties...." Keyleth wasn't wrong about that part, at least, before the rainbow vomiting started.

Sylens, stop being an arrogant jackass and start being useful--oh wait. Wrong narrative.

Ripley consorting with dragons: *chef's kiss*

Twin angst incoming!

Syngorn is indeed pretty AF.

You don't want to tango with pixies, indeed. You might, on the other hand, want to steal their furniture for your dollhouse. *side-eyes Percy*

(yes, that was an actual thing that actually canonically happened in the campaign)

(I will love it forever)

Heh, I've heard THOSE lines before. Wink wink nudge nudge. Little sudden in this context, but I certainly can't complain that they're here.

can't complain at all

nope not me

VELORAAAA

Velora's owlbeaaaaar

Velora so cute

Troy sure does do a good job at playing a pretentious ass.

(cough)

Wilhand!!

And there we go with the namedrop. This time it pretty much worked.

stop giving Vex's character moments to Vax challenge 2k23

We're about a handsbreadth here from Miracle Max and honestly I can't really be mad about that part.

"You'll need to amend one name, though."

Watching that happen in person was so fucking satisfying, I'm not going to lie.

All right, I have notes here and there about how they're adapting this, mostly just because it's having to happen too quickly for all of it to land (the eps are short, what are you gonna do), but I love this conversation between Percy and Vex. They finally got to work in Percy making things for her, too!

"I gotta stimulate myself? Okay..." "Back it up." Sporfle.

Nice frog-to-not-quite-a-frog transition there. (Ribbit.)

Saundor, you creepy fuck. HANDS OFF OUR GIRL.

"Sweet, broken Vex'ahlia." I love that line and hate it in equal measure, and I want her to shoot him in the fucking faaaaaaaaace.

Hey, THERE'S that line I wanted her to yell at her father! Slightly different context here, but hey, I'll take it.

"My heart is someone else's." <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

"How do you fight a tree?" With FIRE. Seriously, this was one of Keyleth's coolest moments and best strategic decisions in the campaign, and I love that they're going for it.

"Twig dick." I say again: sporfle.

Okay, they're making this fight look absolutely badass.

SHE'S USING

PERCY'S

ARROWHEAD

see, this is how you do it

Stubby

Garmelie Artie, you little fuck.

(The traveler, hmmmm?)

(And thank god that was Matt. I mean, who ELSE could you cast?)

KILL BOX INCOMING

So the herd is fucking terrifying. Appropriately. But dang, this got grim in a HURRY.

Mythcarver has been so much more useful in this show than in the campaign that it's kind of hilarious.

One thing I love about this episode: Grog has, legendarily, an intelligence of six, but it's easy for the animated version of him to slip into all-doofus-all-the-time mode in the way the campaign never did -- in part because Travis is clearly so damn smart and you have him out of character as part of the picture. So it's nice giving Grog more depth here to do its part in balancing things out.

Pikelan cuteness: <3

Grog backstory! Grog and the gnomes! <3

KAYLIE

I wouldn't flirt if I were you, Scanlan

I mean: I really, really wouldn't

for reasons

Grog saving Wilhand is everything I hoped for.

In a word: ouch.

Dark-haired Pike! <3

I want to hug them both, okay? They deserve hugs.

....Scanlan, please, hit the brakes before you hurt yourself.

Good to see some tabaxi out and about in the world! Now please save the wee one.

"I swear, I know that voice!" Iiiiindeed.

Kevdak, you're an asshole, and you'd be nothing without your magic toys, and you know it.

"Your armor's not exactly the quietest." Oh, Pikey. Never the stealthiest, are we.

Scanlan, I'm not gonna say this again. COOL YOUR JETS.

Nice magic tricks, though.

saaaave the kiiiitttyyyyyyy

you're not doing this on your own and we all know it so listen to Pike okay

...all right, save the KILL BOX INCOMING for next week, but we're well on our way!

#critical role #tlovm #tlovm spoilers

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grapecaseschoices · 1 year

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Band name, albums, and persona for all of your infamous mcs!! (Or whoever you’d like!!!)

Band name: How did they and the others come up with the band name? Has the name changed since it was founded?

I answered Lala here and Ori here.

Alana: Promised Promises.

Because I like pain, I feel the band name started with Alana and Seven. Essentially, just two young kids promising to be best friends forever (punctuated with their pinkies locked and kissing the other's thumb). Maybe they used to say cute things to each other like: 'Promisies?' (Alana probably started it and Seven fondly, exasperatedly, laughingly jumped into it because it made Alana laugh in turn) 'Are you a promiser?' Or 'I promised promised'. And so the band name came to be. Alana would rather die than change it.

Bethany Josnel: The Notations

No. I feel BJ's band name started the same reason I picked it oocly. It made me think of the Temptations, he's an r&b dude, and he plays the piano, lol.

I imagine people church probably played a lot of soul and OG R&B. Little Seven and BJ walking home from BJ's choir practice (that Seven hung around at) singing 'My Girl' to each other (not yet realizing my girl would mean my guy/my boy in about ten years). I think originally they had considered something more homage like, maybe something similar to the Ruinations (sounds pretty metal) or the Inclinations (they found a thesaurus) -- but maybe the wording 'musical notation' came up in a conversation, or they overheard it, and they looked at each other and new. And so it stuck.

Hiyam: The Vespas.

Yes. And surprisingly it was NOT after Seven left. Very early on the were known as Brimstones (aka Gonepteryx rhamni); Rown and Seven's urge to satisfy Hiyam's obsession with all flying/winged beings and still sound cool (she would rather die than admit it, but Hiyam thinks maybe it's a good thing they didn't go with Flying Squirrels). But it didn't last too long. Partially because people kept getting disappointed at a pop group called Brimstones and partially because people started calling Hiyam Bitches (instead of witch) and Brimstone .... and Seven couldn't fight everyone who insulted her girlfriend, so.

Albums: What are some of the albums the band has released? Are they a consistent style? What themes did they explore?

(Really making me dig up and ponder my notes huh? ;-P)

Lala

First EP was Pitchforks & Torches, First Album Here Kitty Kitty. P&T was really just a sample of sound. It was eclectic but not messy; it was eclectic in the sense that it was a nod to their origins and each song focused on two or more different band members' strengths. But the flow was good and the song titles followed the band theme. I think the best way to call it was alternate but the folk influences were there.

Then Here Kitty Kitty came out and though it was still alternative, still a bit folky, it veered hard into more an alternative hip hop sound. Though, the genre was different, the base was the same. You can definitely see that highlighting various band members vibe, still feel that twang, and that adventerous yet rebelliously nonchalant (nonchalantly rebellious) vibe of the EP. Their second album self titled DramaWh*re is another turn, away from the alternative and more folk, more twang, more southern. It focuses a bit more on Lala's vocals but not enough to push the band into acoustics land -- they've always been about supporting the group/doing what's best for it. It is a surprise but it's not a surprise.

As stated, there's a rebellious edge to a lot of DramaWh*re's songs. It is about making trouble and having fun, but not letting that overtake you. In the same name of having trouble and making fun, they like to dive into some ~sexiness~. Maybe a bit of spicy, a dip of romance. You can't fuck around without some fucking, after all. So DramaWhore's stuff (as the name implies) tends to be explicit.

Ori

Gains genre/vibe, as I like to term it is, Gympop or Himbro Punk Rock (aka synthpop). And though they've definitely touched into other genres (eletronic, indie pop/rock, pop punk etc), that's their heart. Whether they're singing about summertime sunshine, video games, doing reps, or badly flirting with people at a club, that's the base of their sound -- synthpop ........ and making sure people are having fun. While Lala's fun energy tends to read more let's bungee jump the grand canyon or yolo, let's go on stage half drunk and sing about our ex (daring, messy, a touch cocky); Ori's fun is more bonfire turn beach rave -- do a keg stand and pull out the glowsticks. It's silly, it's goofy, and it's energetic. Honestly, that's not just their vibe but also what they sing about (they probably have a song called glowstick ....)

A lot of their songs is about being down on your luck but still pushing through it: appreciate life, your loved ones, and everything in between. Maybe you're a loser but at least you're still living, dude.

Persona: How does their day-to-day personality compare to their on-stage persona?

Hiyam

Hiyam very much gives off the 'I'm the bitch you married' vibes (never seen gone girl, going off the gifs). And that is just a correct estimation of her personality. She might actually worse off stage? Like ruder. Because you want to beguile them on stage, right? On stage Hiyam is look at the sway of my hips, the turn of my hands, listen to my powerful vocals -- I make you want to come and go. Off stage Hiyam is MOVE BITCH GET OUT THE WAY.

Man, IDK. I'm tired. Personally I don't see them as overly too different. Hiyam struts on stage because she's just as arrogant off. She takes center and allures with her powerful vocals, and she's someone who will tell you what she feels (except if you're Orion) off stage. And because she knows she's the star. All eyes remain on her -- for better and for worse. She's audacious on and off. And she's definitely still a fashionista.

Actually, though, after doing this I really do think she's NICER on stage qwert lmao.

#meet my infamous mcs #meet my ocs #straightuppotatoo-art #oc: lala sandoval #oc: ori zhou #oc: hiyam vinke #oc: josnel coleman #oc: alana carita #i hope yall realize some of this is subject to changing #bc i have all the memory and none of the determination of a cat instantly returning to yeet itself a pan of oil after having its face #pushed aside two seconds ago #thanks for the ask hun #<3 #so sorry it took me forever to get back to this!#also sorry this is super duper long #i didnt answer this for all of them. i didnt want to take any longer to get back to you. or else i'd have to pause this again #maybe one day i'll come back and do as much

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cyberp-1-nk · 1 year

Text

[ bad company. || simp party. ]

Warnings: None.

Tags: @insane-horror-movie-addict

A/N: I hope you like this!

Varrick was alone.

It had usually been like this— the castle was emptied of all its residents, since the majority were busy with their own lives. He had almost been envious of them, since he hadn't much of an exciting life of his own, it was as if his entire purpose was to solely serve Enid. He almost wished he had an exciting life like his brother. Vince was constantly battling pirates, exploring different realms and territories from all over this large world whenever he wasn't busy with proxy work. He had been so enveloped within his proxy work, that he felt as if he had forgotten his old hobbies. It wouldn't hurt to revisit said habits, it's not like he really had anything to do anyways.

Varrick had not played the electric guitar in years. The instrument had been gathering dust in a corner of his room, a reminder of a time when he was young, foolish, and full of ambition. But now, as he looked at the guitar, he felt a familiar stirring in his chest. Maybe it was time to pick it up again. He took the guitar out of its case, feeling the weight of it in his hands. The wood was smooth beneath his fingertips, and as he ran his fingers over the strings, they produced a satisfying twang. Varrick smiled to himself, feeling a rush of excitement. It had been too long since he had felt this way.

With trembling fingers, he began tuning the guitar. It was harder than he remembered, and his fingers felt a little too large for the instrument. But he persevered, twisting the tuning pegs until the strings were perfectly in tune. As he played each note, he could feel the music coursing through his veins, and a smile spread across his face. Finally, the guitar was in tune, and Varrick started strumming a few chords. At first, it felt awkward and clumsy, but as he played, he felt his fingers start to remember the patterns and movements they had made so many years ago. The sound of the electric guitar filled the room, and Varrick felt as if he was enveloped within his passion again.

As he played, Varrick's smile grew wider and wider. It was an unconscious gesture, but he couldn't help it. The music was taking him to a place he had not been in years, a place where everything was possible, where he could be anything he wanted to be. As the notes rang out, Varrick felt a sense of joy and freedom that he had not felt in a long time. He closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the music. For a few moments, the world outside his room ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the sound of the electric guitar in his hands.

Varrick took a deep breath and began to strum the opening chords of one of the many songs he remembered. As the guitar roared to life, he began to sing in his deep, gravelly voice, the lyrics flowing from his lips with a fierce passion.

"Company, always on the run. Destiny, is the rising sun. Oh, I was born six gun in my hand, behind a gun I'll make my final stand."

Varrick's fingers flew over the strings, his rapid strumming creating a wall of sound that filled the room. He closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the music, his voice rising and falling with the rhythm of the guitar. "Bad company, till the day I die. Bad company, always on the fly. Bad company, oh, till the day I die."

For the first time in years, Varrick felt a pure, genuine smile spread across his face. The music was taking him to a place he had not been in a long time, a place where he could forget all his troubles and just be himself. As the song reached its climax, Varrick's fingers moved faster and faster, his voice rising to a crescendo. He felt as if he was on fire, his passion and energy pouring out of him in waves. "Bad company, I can't deny. Bad, bad company, till the day I die."

As the final chords rang out, Varrick let out a deep breath, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over him. The guitar was still humming with the energy he had poured into it, and he smiled down at it, feeling a deep sense of gratitude. For a few moments, he just sat there, basking in the afterglow of the music. It had been too long since he had felt this way, since he had let himself be consumed by his passion. But now, as he looked around the room, he knew that he had found something that he had been missing for a long time. And he couldn't wait to see where it would take him next. He started to play the electric guitar, letting it spring to life.

Varrick continued to play, lost in his passion for the electric guitar. He moved from song to song, his fingers flying over the strings as he poured all his energy into the music. As he played, he felt the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders, and he knew that he had found something that he could never let go. He was so lost in his music that he didn't notice the creeping shadow in the room, the darkness that was slowly spreading across the floor. It wasn't until the shadow formed into Anni, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk, that he realized he wasn't alone.

But even as he heard a noise, he didn't stop playing. Instead, he kept strumming the guitar, his fingers moving faster and faster as he poured all his energy into the music. He was in a world of his own, and nothing else mattered. Anni watched him for a few moments, her smirk turning into a rare smile as she saw the passion on his face. She had never seen him like this before, so completely lost in his music. It was like he was a different person, someone she had never met before.

But even as she watched, Varrick didn't seem to notice her. He just kept playing, his eyes closed, lost in the music. Anni leaned against the doorframe, content to watch him for a while longer, enjoying the way he was completely unaware of her presence. For a few moments, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of the electric guitar, the notes ringing out into the darkness. And as Varrick played, Anni felt a sense of awe wash over her. She had never seen anyone play like this before, with so much passion and energy. It was like he was creating something out of nothing, something that only existed in that moment.

Eventually, Varrick finished the song, his fingers slowing to a stop. He opened his eyes, looking around the room with a sense of satisfaction. And as he saw Anni standing there, he grinned, feeling a sense of joy wash over him. "Hey," he said, setting the guitar down. "How long have you been watching?"

Anni just shrugged, her smile widening. "Long enough. You're really good, you know that?" Varrick laughed, feeling a sense of happiness wash over him. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

As Varrick went to pick up the electric guitar again, Anni suddenly pushed it aside, catching him off guard. He looked up at her, his face flushing with embarrassment as he asked what she was doing. Anni just smiled, moving a strand of hair from his face as she flirted with him. "I think we've had enough of the guitar for now, don't you?" she said, her voice low and seductive.

Varrick bit his lip in concentration, feeling a sudden surge of desire wash over him. He reached out to grip her hips, pulling her closer as she smirked at how flustered he was getting. For a few moments, they just stood there, lost in each other's embrace. And as they kissed, Varrick felt a sense of happiness wash over him. He had never felt this way before, so completely lost in the moment, so completely consumed by his passion.

Anni pulled away from him, her eyes shining with mischief. "Come on," she said, taking his hand. "Let's go do something else~" Varrick nodded, feeling a sense of excitement wash over him. With Anni by his side, he knew that anything was possible. As Varrick and Anni walk towards the room, Varrick's palms start to sweat and his heart races. He knows what he wants to do, but the fear of rejection has always held him back. However, something inside him shifts, and he suddenly feels a surge of confidence.

Without saying a word, Varrick pulls Anni close to him, and she raises a curious eyebrow at him. He feels his cheeks turn red, but he doesn't let go of her. Instead, he looks deeply into her eyes, and for a moment, everything else fades away. With a shaky hand, Varrick reaches up and gently brushes a strand of hair away from Anni's face. He takes a deep breath and leans in closer to her, feeling her warmth against his body. His heart is pounding in his chest, but he knows that he has to go through with this.

Finally, he takes the plunge and bends down, pressing his lips softly against Anni's. He feels her respond, and his heart soars with joy. He deepens the kiss, exploring the softness of her lips, and he's surprised by how natural and right it feels. As they finally break apart, Varrick looks at Anni with a mix of surprise and delight. He can't believe that she let him kiss her, but he's overjoyed that she did— he genuinely believed she was going to kick his ass for initiating the kiss.

#simp party #simp party my beloved #anni my beloved #oc verse simp party

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