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muchosbesitos · 7 months

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powerless part 2

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: pre-spider society miguel, jealous reader 🫣, smut, mutual masturbation, unprotected p in v

author’s note: sry i took a lil break, i had a bit of a writer’s block when it came to this part 🫡 part no one rly asked for but i hope you all enjoy nonetheless

word count: 4k

powerless part one

You and Miguel had been dancing around that line between being friends and being something more for the past few weeks. You could forgive him for that given the fact that he's been busy with a new prototype at Alchemax and he's been out saving the city. Your friends had stopped speaking to you after what happened, immediately choosing to side with Krystal despite them telling you that they'd never pick a side beforehand. You tried to keep your mind busy, to fill in the void with empty projects and your work, but nothing seemed to satisfy you.

You were in the middle of cooking up something for dinner when you heard a knock on your window, noticing Miguel leaning against it. You opened it up, noticing that it was starting to rain outside. "What is with you coming to my place whenever it's raining?" You asked him with a small giggle, stepping back to let him come inside. He pulled away the mask and only then did you notice the pained expression on his face, your eyes drifting down to the gash on his abdomen. You laughter died off and you helped him lay down on the couch, going to your bathroom to get something to clean him up with.

You poured some rubbing alcohol into a rag, starting to clean up the wound and blood surrounding it. Miguel let out a hiss as the alcohol seeped through the wound, stinging him and you shot him an apologetic look as you continued to clean him up. "How'd it happen?" You asked him once the blood stopped, stepping back to give him some space as he healed. "Just a fight with Doc Ock, the usual," he responded, his breath shallow. "Feel free to use the shower whenever you're ready," you told him, going back to the kitchen to make sure the food didn't burn.

He came back a little while after taking a shower, smelling like your body soap and he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind as you were just finishing up the meal. "What are you making, hermosa?" He asked you, his words coming out muffled given that he'd buried his face in the crook of your neck. "I watched Ratatouille the other day so I decided to try out the dish. Turns out, it's not as easy as the stupid rat makes it seem but I don't think it looks too bad," you respond and he looked over your shoulder at the food baking. "I'm sure it's delicious, little chef."

"Oh come on! It's not that bad," you protested as Miguel spat out the first bite he'd taken of the food. "No, no. It's just.. too much for my taste buds to handle, y'know? It's just so good that I can't contain it," he responded, avoiding eye contact with you as he spoke. You rolled your eyes, putting a piece of eggplant in your mouth just to prove a point to him. You quickly spat it out, taking a sip of water to wash down the taste. You look up to see Miguel looking at you with a small smirk on his face, like he was daring you to try and defend the dish. "Alright, come on. I’ll help you make it again," he told you, gesturing you to join him in the kitchen as he stood up.

You began chopping up the eggplants while Miguel chopped up the onions, claiming that he wouldn't cry because of them. A couple seconds pass before you pick up sounds of him sniffling as he's cutting, though he did pretty well at masking it. You opened up the faucet next to him, a trick that your mom had taught you as his sniffling started to stop. "Thanks," he mumbled, clearly embarrassed and you go back to chopping the vegetable. "Why do these things have to be so big?" you whined as you cut the pieces into thin slices. "I'd say my eggplant's bigger," he responded, laughing at his own joke.

"Miguel?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Never say that again."

"Yes ma'am."

Eventually after a series of jokes and chopping up vegetables, the two of you were waiting for the dish to finish up. You were setting up the table while he was responsible for making sure that it didn't end up slightly burned like last time, his attention solely on the oven. The two of you sat to eat and he began telling you about his day, how he'd basically swung around the entirety of Nueva York. "How about you? Have your 'friends' called you?" He asked, putting the word in quotation marks as he rolled his eyes. "No, they haven't. Probably still pissed off that I won't apologize to them for pursuing something with you," you responded as you were finishing up with your food, taking a sip from your drink. "I know you didn't ask for my two cents, but if they were okay losing you in the first place then maybe they're not your friends."

A couple of days passed by before you had the opportunity to see Miguel again. He'd texted you early enough in the day to tell you that he would be taking you out tonight, to dress up in something nice. You headed out to the mall in hopes to find something adequate to wear, since most of your clothes weren't suitable for going to nice places. You were walking around the mall for some short time while you stumbled on your group of friends giggling and talking amongst themselves. You were planning on ignoring them, but your plans were quickly changed when one of them called you over.

Your throat bobbed as you walked over to them, trying to see what they wanted from you. "All you have to do is apologize to Krystal and we'll let you back in our group," one of them told you and you couldn't help it anymore. "Why not ask Krystal to apologize for the way that she treated me? For the way that she treated all of you? You all defend her actions but the only reason that she pursues the men she does is because someone else has interest in them," you respond and you could tell that their patience was running thin. "Either you apologize to Krystal right now or you're dropped from the group," the same one told you, her eyes boring into you.

You looked at the satisfied look on Krystal’s face and decided that it wasn't worth it anymore. "I'm sorry for sending you that picture, it was really petty of me. But I'm not apologizing for pursuing something with Miguel," you spoke to Krystal, looking at her directly as she scrambled to look upset when all eyes turned to her. "And as for the group, you can drop me. You're all hypocrites, getting pissed off when someone does something wrong but being perfectly okay when Krystal does it. She's not even supposed to be in this group, the only reason she's in it is because her sister wanted us to pity her," you finished off, not caring if you went too far and walked away.

Though the memories that you shared with your friends was something that you would miss, you felt a sense of relief at finally letting them go. You walked into a couple other stores and ended up buying a new dress and a set of lingerie just in case. When you got home, you decided to do something you'd been meaning to do for quite some time now since you were running on that 'high' of how good it felt to defend yourself. You grabbed your name tag and apron and took the train to the restaurant you worked at, confident in the decision that you were taking.

You walked to the back of the restaurant and sat down while you waited for the boss to come in. "What are you doing here? You have the day off today," your boss told you once he stepped inside the office, sitting down behind his desk. "I wanted to tell you that i'm quitting. I appreciate the opportunity that you gave me but I don't think this place fits my needs anymore," you told him, handing over your stuff. He shrugged and gave you your last paycheck before you were dismissed out of his office. You were thankful that the exchange had gone fairly well since your boss wasn't exactly the most pleasant person to work with.

You got ready for your date with Miguel as soon as you got back home, a little giddy as you took a shower. You couldn't help but wonder if this was the date where he'd make things official, to ask you if you wanted to be his girlfriend. On another part, you couldn't help but think if he was just taking you someplace nice to break up with you so it wouldn't hurt as bad. You decided to just go along with the flow and brush those thoughts out of your head. You finished up just in time, your doorbell ringing as you put the finishing touches on your outfit.

"Wow, chaparra. you look.. phenomenal," he told you as soon as you opened the door, butterflies taking flight in your stomach. You stepped aside to let him come inside and he handed you a bouquet of flowers. You thanked him and went to go set them in a vase, putting them down on your dining table. "Ready?" He asked you once you finished up and you nodded, grabbing his hand as he led you out. You locked up behind you and the two of you headed to the date he had planned out.

He ended up taking to you to the art museum and you had a suspicion that it'd been because you mentioned that you wanted to go. "So, how was your day today?" He asked you, holding your hand as the two of you started to walk around the museum. You told him what happened today and you expected him to call you out for quitting your job, but he did no such thing. "I'm proud of you for finally standing up for yourself. You've been miserable at that job for months," he told you, stroking your hand as he walked next to you.

Though he protested some, he still let you take some pictures of him with the paintings. You had to step back a couple feet just to capture his entire frame and he couldn't help but laugh at the distance that you'd created. He took some pictures of you as well, capturing you in the frame perfectly. "Y'know if this whole Alchemax thing doesn't work out, you should be a photographer," you told him as the two of you walked through the exhibits. "With all the technology available, you seriously think there's a need for photographers?" He asked you, looking down at you as he held your hand. "Well, just because it's available doesn't mean that everyone knows how to work it," you responded with a small shrug. “Touché."

He ended up taking you to dinner after the two of you finished walking through the museum, taking you to a nice area of town. "Hi, what would you like to order today?" The waitress asked, facing Miguel as she placed her manicured hand on his shoulder. You had to restrain yourself from saying something to her especially given the fact that Miguel wasn't committed to you yet, but you couldn't help the jealousy brewing in your stomach. "I'll have a medium rare steak with a side of rice, please. And a coke," he ordered and the waitress scrambled to write it down on her notepad. She started to walk away, not paying any mind to you until Miguel called for her to come back.

"What do you want?" She asked you, the annoyance on her face evident as she looked at you. "I'll have a shrimp alfredo with a coke, please," you told her, trying to remain polite. "Are you sure you don't want a salad? You look like you could benefit from it," she responded, letting out a laugh at her own joke. You bit the inside of your cheek as you looked up at her, still trying to restrain yourself. “No, what I ordered will be fine," you told her through gritted teeth, clenching your fists together.

Though you were aware of the struggles that waitresses went through as a previous one yourself, you felt no sympathy towards that woman with the way she acted towards you. The worst part about it was that Miguel seemed to be oblivious to the way that she acted around him, making a point to come to the table every 3-5 minutes to check up on him or see if he needed anything. He noticed the expression on your face and his brows furrowed, his hands holding yours now. "What's wrong?" He asked you, his eyes trying to read you properly. "That waitress keeps flirting with you and you don't even realize it. And the worst part about this whole thing is that I can't even be jealous because you're not even official with me," you told him, letting go of his hands as the waitress came back with the food.

The rest of the dinner was a bit awkward, with some minor conversation about how the food was. Though, you could appreciate that Miguel told the waitress that he wasn’t interested. He escorted you home and he lingered for a couple seconds in front of your door, his hand not letting go of yours. "I was gonna ask you if you wanted to be my girlfriend today. Not because of what happened at the restaurant or anything, but because I can't think of wanting to be with anyone else other than you. I’m sorry if you didn't really feel that way," he spoke up after a while of silence and you turned to look at him, feeling guilty for snapping at him during dinner. "I'm sorry if I ruined dinner, I didn't mean to. I was just.. confused about where we going in this whole thing," you told him, rubbing his hand reassuringly.

"So, will you be my girlfriend?" He asked you, a little smile appearing on his face. "The answer was always yes, idiot," you mumbled, holding on to his shoulders for support as you kissed him. You opened up the door to your apartment and led him inside, thankful to the gods that you'd cleaned up the apartment and bought that new set of lingerie. He closed the door with his foot as he kissed you, locking the door with the best of his ability before he hoisted you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he led you to your bedroom, your lips intertwined on the way there.

He placed you down on the bed, hovering above you as the two of you continued to kiss, your hands intertwined in his soft curls while his rested on your hips. He slowly pulled the dress down, his eyes widening a bit as he saw the lingerie you were waiting. "Should've skipped dinner and just went straight to dessert," he mumbled, his lips running through your neck as he kissed it. He bit down on some spots, careful not to inject you with any of his venom as he left some marks on you. "Just in case you're ever confused about who you belong to again."

He stripped off his clothes and sat down next to you, spreading your legs so he'd get easy access to your wet cunt. He brought up a finger to your lips, tapping on your bottom one so you'd open up. You wrapped your mouth around his finger, looking at his eyes as you coated it with your saliva. He pulled away and ran that finger down your folds, collecting extra slick. He pushed the tip of his finger inside, teasing you as he pushed it and out slowly. You let out a small whine for him to do something more but you only received a laugh in response. "Use your words," he cooed, his thumb gently pressing against your clit. "Please," you begged, looking up at him with your best 'fuck me' eyes.

"Please what?"

"Please use your fingers."

"Is that not what I'm doing?"

You wanted to let out a whine at his relentless teasing, the words in your mind turning to mush already from how needy you were. "Please fuck me with your fingers," you managed to tell him and he kissed your forehead. "You should've just said so," he responded condescendingly, stretching your cunt out with this one finger. Your hand wrapped around his cock, collecting some of the precum that was leaking out and lathered it all over the shaft. You kept a steady pace as you tightened your hand around him, just enough to simulate the feeling of your cunt. Your hips began to ride Miguel’s finger, your cunt eager to receive some sort of friction. He let out a moan as you cupped his balls with your other hand, your thrusts never halting.

Miguel’s palm worked up against your clit, providing you with stimulation as he pushed another finger inside of your cunt. Your walls clenched around his fingers, a tight grip around them as he moved them in and out. You curled your toes as you felt his thumb rub small circles on your clit, the sensation filling your veins with need. Your mouth was parted as you begged him to keep going, your moans filling up the room. You gripped his forearm as you came, your vision spotting as your juices coated his fingers. He brought his fingers up to his lips, sucking your juices off like you were the finest nectar.

You used both your hands to jerk Miguel off now, a tight grip on his shaft as you moved your hands up and down. He let out a small hiss as you brushed up against his tip, being a little sensitive there. You brought your mouth down to it, swirling your tongue as your hands worked to get him to that climax. He held your head in place as spurts of cum flew in your mouth, your cheeks hollowing to receive everything that he would give you. You eagerly swallowed down his cum and he pulled you in for a kiss, the taste of you and him combined overwhelming your senses.

He laid you down on the bed and kissed down your body, leaving small marks on your breasts and your stomach before he sat up. He gave his cock a couple pumps before he kneeled closer to you, placing just the tip in. You let out a small grunt as your walls fluttered, trying to accommodate to his size. "Hey, calm down. Take a couple deep breaths for me and try to relax," he tried to reassure you, his hands rubbing small circles on your thighs. You nodded and began to focus on your breathing, inhaling and exhaling slowly. You did this a couple more times until you felt relaxed, gesturing Miguel to move afterwards.

He pushed the rest of his cock in one swift motion, giving you some time to adjust to the stretch. "You're so good taking me like this, mi vida. We have all night, there's no pressure," he whispered, leaning into give your neck a couple kisses. You did the same thing as last time, focusing on your breathing rather than the stinging between your legs before it started to morph into pleasure. You nodded and looked over at Miguel, and he started to slowly move his cock out of you. He started off slow, giving you plenty of time to adjust as you found necessary.

"You can speed up," you told him and he complied, his thrusts getting faster and deeper the more your cunt swallowed him up. Your hands went to his back, scratching him as he thrusted deep into you. He leaned over, attaching his mouth to one of your nipples as he ran his mouth on the neglected bud. You couldn't help but moan at just how stimulated you felt, your hand reaching down to rub circles on your clit. He swatted your hand away and replaced your hand with his own, his mouth moving to the other breast. "You just lay there and take it, baby. I’ll do all the work," he mumbled, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he sped up.

One of the ridges of his cock brushed up against your g-spot as his thrusts got deeper and you gripped his shoulders tightly. He took that as an indication and adjusted the angle so that his cock would brush up against the gummy spot with every stroke that he took. His thumb worked on rubbing quick circles on your clit and you felt that knot inside of you tightening up, threatening to snap loose at any time. "That's my girl. taking it so well," he told you and you came with a moan of his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as you did. You could hear a squelch with each thrust that he took as he chased his own orgasm, his thrusts getting sloppy quick. You looked up to see his blood-red eyes already looking at you and you brought him in for a kiss.

He came as soon as your lips came in contact with his, overwhelmed by everything around him. He managed to pull out in time and his cum was leaking onto your stomach. You picked some of it up with your pointer finger, licking it clean as you looked directly at him. He kissed you as you did, the taste of him and his essence intoxicating. He pulled out of your cunt slowly and walked to the bathroom, bringing a small towel to clean you up. He led you to the shower and lathered you up with soap, going for another round after he saw how eager you were to take him.

You woke up the next morning and frowned upon not seeing him there next to you, not expecting him to leave in the middle of the night. You got up and walked to the kitchen, seeing your boyfriend cooking breakfast in the kitchen. "I didn't wake you up, did I?" He asked when he turned to look at you, his hair sticking up in all directions. "No, I just thought you left," you mumbled, rubbing your eyes as you took in the sight. Miguel had stayed and he was dancing to a bachata song playing in the radio as he cooked breakfast. "I'd never leave you, mi amor. Breakfast's almost done, just sit there and wait," he told you, kissing your forehead.

He ended up making huevos rancheros for the both of you along with some fresh coffee. "Did you mop?" You asked, looking up at him as the smell of lavender Fabuloso filled your nostrils. "I did, yeah. I accidentally spilled some of the milk," he responded, taking a bite out of his eggs. The two of you ate in comfortable silence for a couple minutes before he spoke up. "Did you like last night? Is there something you'd like me to improve on?" He asked you, taking a sip from his coffee. "No, it was good. I liked it. You were attentive to my needs and everything," you assured him, finishing up with your food a couple seconds later.

He ended up calling sick to work that day and spent the day with you in your apartment. He sat down with you on the couch as he looked through job postings with you, his arm wrapped around your shoulder. "You're too smart for another waitressing job. You didn't get a college degree to settle for less. Choose something that's gonna make you happy," he told you as your fingers hovered through a restaurant gig. "But what if I'm not good enough?" You asked him, still stuck in that bubble of wanting to do something familiar. "You're going to be more than good enough. And if one job doesn't like you, then there are more jobs out there," he responded, kissing the top of your head.

"Miguel?"

"Yeah, chaparra?"

"Te amo." (i love you)

"Y yo también te amo." (and i love you too)

@skulfan1

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fir3ylolol · 8 months

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break up, make up

pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader

summary: You and Johnny didn't end your relationship on a good note. You've successfully avoided him, but what happens when you both end up at the same bar??

word count: 2.46 k

tw: Vaginal sex, oral sex, cunnilingus, afab!reader, gn pronouns, dom!reader, sub!johnny cage, forgiveness, make up sex, vaginal penetration, grinding, semi-public sex, begging, mentions of cheating, making out, no spoilers, he's so pussywhipped dude, praise kink, no other canon characters, smut, shameless smut, porn with plot

a/n: I've never really written fic b4 so I hope it's not shit. Slightly inspired by 3d-wifey, they are an actually good writer

Ao3

Johnny stared daggers at you from across the room. Why did he have to show up here? It had been a couple of months since you two split up and this was the first time you’d seen each other since. All you wanted was a nice night out with friends, which was already hard enough. But there he is, just 1000 feet away.

It hadn’t been easy. You had been with him for over a year and for the most part, it was fine. Despite his career and fame, he managed to find plenty of time for you. He loved to spoil you, spend time with you, and show his love wholeheartedly. That was until he had a long shoot overseas. He promised that everything would be fine and nothing would change. After 2 long months, he finally returned. But something felt off. He didn’t hold you like he used to, spent less time at home, and you didn’t see the love in his eyes anymore. A very dramatic breakup ensued, complete with tears and screaming from both of you. You moved out and quickly lost contact. Trying to cope as article after article about him returning to his ‘playboy lifestyle�� came out, you decided that he wasn’t worth your time, that he killed the relationship because he was bored of you. And so you tried your hardest, knowing that running into him again was unlikely. He’s too busy being famous, right?

Right?

Wrong.

Because there he was, same old Johnny, in a red button-up shirt with the arms rolled up and the top two buttons undone. Black slacks straining against his thighs, expensive watch glistening in the low light of the club. And, fuck, that look on his face. You couldn’t fully read it, and you weren’t sure if you were scared or interested.

Trying not to look at him, you brush off your clothes. You want to seem cool, calm, unbothered. Something you weren’t. But you weren’t turning around again to look. You just laugh with your friends and continue to enjoy your night. Until…

“Why, hello there dear,” his familiar voice rang out in your ears. You froze, the familiarity and warmth were something you hadn’t heard in a very long time. Slowly turning, you meet his eyes, trying, and failing, to hide your nerves. But when you meet his eyes, you can’t read anything. His words are cool, calm, and suave, but his eyes? Ice cold. It made you feel worse. You manage to utter a “Hello Johnny” as he stands there, his presence looming. Your friends look to you for guidance, but you nod, letting them know you’re fine. But they take that to mean, ‘you can leave now’, because they walk away, leaving you alone with him.

The exact opposite thing of what you wanted, honestly.

But it's too late for that. You take a deep breath and look directly at him, trying to seem brave. He leans against the table, looking around before sitting down across from you. “So, why are you out tonight? Trying to find another guy to disappoint?” His words cut deep, harsh accusations that offend you. “Excuse me?” you question, leaning towards him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t act innocent, we both know you’re not,” He scoffs, leaning back in his chair and looking at the crowd. You scrunch your face up in frustration, feeling the anger bubble up inside you. “You know, you’re not exactly innocent either. You leave for 2 months, you don’t talk to me once, and when you’re finally back, you treat me like shit! I honestly preferred it when you were gone, at least then I didn’t feel like complete garbage.” You try not to cry, unable to stop your eyes from watering. Your words seem to soften Johnny slightly, as he looks back and seems more awkward than angry. “What do you mean? I didn’t do that.” “WHAT?” you nearly yell, surprising yourself and him. “You came back a different person! You weren’t the man I fell in love with anymore. You were cold and cruel, just like you are now.” You reach for your bag and move to stand up and leave, but he nearly dives across the table, grabbing your arm. “Wait, wait, please don’t go. I’m sorry. Please just…let me explain.”

You slowly sit back down, shrugging out of his grip, and stare at him, waiting. He finally seems nervous, scratching the back of his neck. “I won’t beat around the bush. I thought that while I was gone, you were cheating on me.” He looks away, clearly ashamed. “I don’t know why. I didn’t have proof. I just…I’m used to people leaving a lot sooner than you, so I assumed the worst. I didn’t think I acted that poorly, but I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I’ll just leave you alone now.” His head hung slightly in shame, he started to stand.

But now it's your turn to stop him, gently taking his arm and making him sit down again. You both pause, waiting for the other to speak. Quietly, you begin to laugh, your whole body shaking. You manage to get out a muffled, “We’re so stupid.” He slowly starts laughing as well, both of you absorbing the absurdity of the situation. After a bit, you both calm down, managing to speak again. You learn that he’s been cast in a new show and that the rumors spreading around have been untrue. He learns about how you’ve been, your true interest in how you are shining through.

“Hey, you look really good, you know?” He gently takes your hand and stares into your eyes. All of a sudden, the mood shifts. Reconnecting with him has reconnected something else, something you didn’t quite expect. His words rest heavily in the air, trying to gauge how you’re feeling. You look into his eyes, the kindness and care he used to show you returning. “You look good too. Better than I remember, honestly.” He laughs, touching your arm more. “I always look this good baby.”

His eyes, now half-lidded and sultry, beckon you closer. You decide to be brave, take initiative. You get up from your seat, standing next to him. Still holding his hand, you pull him up. “Yeah? Wanna show me if everything else stayed the same?” You coax him up, getting closer to him. His smile grows wider, and he stands up and wraps his arms around your waist. “Gladly, baby.” You wave to your friends, who honestly can’t tell if it’s the right thing to let you go with him, but decide to let you. If it’s a mistake, at least you’ll learn from it.

He leads you to his car, a sleek black sports car parked in the virtually empty private parking lot out back. The perks of being famous apparently include better parking. He unlocks the door, letting you sit down first. He climbs into the driver’s seat, turning his body to look at you. “So, my place or yours-” Before he can finish that thought, you reach over, grabbing his face and kissing him gently. He is clearly shocked but quickly leans into it, growing more passionate by the minute. He turns and grabs your hips, trying to get you closer to him. You didn’t realize how completely touch-starved and needy you were until right then. You pull away and take a breath, panting lightly in sync with him. Your hand travels down his chest slowly, dancing towards his crotch. You feel his breath hitch under you, lightly whimpering at the feeling.

Lightly brushing against him and teasing him further, he starts to grow needier, pleading eyes looking directly at you. “Please…please love…” he whines out. You decide to be nice, but not that nice. Slowly unzipping his fly and freeing him, he hisses at the feeling of the cool air in the car. Gently taking him into your hand, you truly forgot how big he is. You lean over, spitting onto his dick and slowly stroking him. He starts to moan lightly, flinching as you flick your wrist over the tip. “Ah-h! H-heyy…stop teasing…” he looks through his lashes, desperation evident.

Finally giving in, you lean down, taking as much of him into his mouth as you can at this angle. He gasps, leaning back and biting his finger to stop himself from being too loud. You look up, wide eyes meeting his. You lift your head, taking a deep breath. “Don’t quiet yourself. I wanna hear those pretty moans, baby.” His eyes lightly roll back at your words, moaning louder when you return to his weeping cock, keeping a quick, almost torturous, pace. He shakily reaches out to grab your head, not forcing you down, just feeling you and trying to remain stable.

You lift your head again, kissing him hard and rough. He desperately tries to keep up, lips slipping against yours messily. You take his hand, leading it down to your crotch. “Touch me, love. Please, I need it.” You rasp out, making him shiver. As he reaches into your underwear, he nearly melts at the feeling of how wet you are. His fingers gently curl into you, feeling you pulse around him hungrily. He gently pulls his hand out, looking at the slick on his fingers before shoving them in his mouth greedily. Groaning at the taste, he reaches his free hand out to grab your thighs, feeling your soft skin under his desperate touch. “Mmfph, alwaysh taste so goodf me,” he tries to speak with his fingers still in his mouth, not wanting to stop. He tries again to taste more but you stop him, to many protests.

But they quickly stop when you take you underwear off, slipping it out from under you and tossing them in the back seat. “Push your seat back,” you state casually, but you both know it’s a command. Hurriedly, he scrambles for the seat controls, moving himself as far back as possible. He looks to you, then down at himself. He pulls his pants and underwear down further, then looks to you excitedly. Carefully, you reach your right leg over him, straddling his lap. You can feel him throb against your leg, impossibly fast, and the wetness he can’t seem to stop. You pause, looking down at him. “I want to hear you say you want this before I do anything. If this is how we rekindle our relationship, it’s starting on a good note. And if not, then it’ll end on one. But I need to hear you say it.”

Quickly, he grabs at your thighs, tight grip digging into you. “Yes, yes, please. I need you. I’ve missed you so bad and, and just want to be with you right now. I need it. I need you. Please…” His desperate pleas and pathetic expression shoot to your core, you can feel yourself growing even wetter. That was all the motivation you need as you lift yourself up and grab his dick, lining it up with teasing touches against you, earning groans and gasps every time. Finally, you start to sink down, wincing. It’s been a while and Johnny is a lot to handle. But he doesn’t notice. His head is thrown back, strings of long whines, moans, and other pornstar sounds pouring from his mouth. His sounds are motivation enough as you sink down as far as possible. It’s like you knocked the wind out of him, gasps are all you get out of him for now. You take a second to adjust further.

Then, you begin to move. Hips rocking back and forth, forehead pressed into his shoulder. You speed up, bouncing on him as you basically use him. It’s not like he minds, whimpers echoing through the car, hands death gripping onto your ass as you ride him. He genuinely can’t control himself, babbling near nonsense. You can make out a few of the words he’s saying in your ear. “Love”, “s’good”, “missed this”, and “feel incredible” is about it amongst the uncontrollable moans. You can definitely tell that it's been a long time. I mean, he’s usually pretty whiny, but this takes the cake.

He manages to get a solid couple of sentences out in his fucked out state, wrapping his arms around you like a hug. “I missed you so bad, I knew it was a mistake. No one that feels this good could be bad. I missed being yours, missed having you use me like this. I love it, I love you.” His hips jerk upwards without rhythm, desperate to get off. His words egg you on further, speeding up and absolutely shaking the car. His grip on you tightens as you can tell he’s about to cum. You whisper shakily into his ear, “Come on baby, cum for me. Be a good boy for me.” With that, he finishes with a loud cry, a death grip around you and shaking thighs. He trembles beneath you, still sensitive from the comedown. You smooth out his hair, brushing the hairs stuck to his forehead from sweat. Still fuzzyheaded, he kisses you tenderly, full of love.

You slowly climb off and get back in your seat, catching your breath. But you don’t have long, as Johnny grabs your leg and twists you. Exposing you as you lean against the car door, you barely have time to think before he dives in, eating you out with such fervor that you genuinely can’t believe he got down there that fast. After his sweet words and all that you’ve done, you’re not that far from the edge. He hasn’t forgotten all the ways to make you cum though, as he quickly gets you even closer. He rubs his nose against your clit, causing you to jump at the sensitivity. But then, his head backs up slightly, which you can’t take at this moment. You have to finish. You grab his head, fingers tangling in his hair, and fuck his face hard. He is moaning again at this point, your pleasure gets him off just as much as his own. You lose the ability to think about anything but cumming, your sole goal. Finally, you finish, your grip on him loosening. But he stays just as close, burying his face in you and lapping up your cum mixed with his.

He finally pulls away, both of you gasping for air. You are suddenly much more thankful for being parked in a more secluded area. After what feels like forever, you turn and whisper out, “Am I as good as you remember?” Turning his head, he laughs and whispers, “Better than I remembered.”

#johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat #x reader #afab reader #johnny cage mk1 #mk1 smut #mk1 x reader #sub!johnny cage #dom!reader

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claymoresword · 4 months

Text

I Choose Her | Chp: 18

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 4.9k

Warnings: smut, cunnilingus, g!p elements, fluff, mentions of gore and death, y/n & draco , atp it's y/n and hermione against the world

Note: hi! sorry this one took literal ages, I hope y'all can forgive me.. Initially I thought I'd be able to wrap this story up with 1 more chapter but I think rn it's looking like 2 more atleast lol

anyway this part pretty much kicks off with smut so be warned, I feel like I've written so many at this point I just hope it's not stale and still enjoyable to read, feel free to let me know what you think! <3 love you all and I will try my best to get the next part out asap

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character

Hermione unzips your slacks, tugging them down till they pool at your feet. By the time you kick them off, her hands are already roaming your frame, graceful and determined fingers disappearing into your hair as her tongue invades your mouth.

Your girlfriend kisses you with such fervent hunger, any feelings of apprehension on your end rapidly dissipate.

Her hands continue their mission to undress you, and before you realize it, she has undone the buttons on your shirt, tugging the fabric off your frame.

Hermione continues to be driven by careless want, her mouth finds your collarbone, and then the swell of your breast. Her palm gliding across your bare torso makes you shiver in anticipation.

“Hermione–” You try as she pulls away for an instant, but your chest tightens the moment your eyes meet.

She is eyeing you like a caged beast– as if you are her last meal on earth, and she plans to devour you whole.

You can see how violently her chest heaved with every ragged breath she took, her stare glazed over with arousal, it made you ache.

This can't be the last time. It shouldn't be.. but that wasn't up to either of you.

Her fingers find the back of your head once more, this time her grip is frantic– your breaths continue to mingle as she cleaves to you, coaxing you to kiss her again, to take her.

“I want you, please.” Hermione pleads, and you can't help but smirk, attentive eyes studying her features, traces of true desperation painted across them.

Your girlfriend, now reduced to a creature of want and desire and you are the only being on earth that will ever hope to satiate her.

Hermione appreciates the way your hand halts at her rear, giving her ass a wanton squeeze.

Your bodies now flush against each other, your bare skin feels like fire against hers– Hermione would gladly burn to ash if it means you will continue to touch her.

“You have me..” Your assurance is sealed with a passionate kiss, pulling a whimper out of your girlfriend.

Hermione's lips move against your own, hard and eager, she tugs you down onto the floor with her by the nape of your neck.

Her legs immediately curl around your waist, and you can't help the feeling that sets over you. You were intoxicated, completely enchanted by Hermione, even from the simplest of gestures.

This can't be the last time.

Hermione gasps as you trail open mouthed kisses down her neck, a familiar liquid heat settles in between her legs as your mouth reaches her breasts.

You kiss her nipple over the fabric of her bra, and she arches her back reflexively to feel more of you.

She leaves room for you to reach around so you may unclasp the undergarment, discarding it to the side with practiced ease.

Hermione captures your lips with her own once more, as if it were a form of sustenance, as if she would lose herself if she did not steal every opportunity to kiss you.

As both of your lungs clamour for air, you pull away, once again your warm mouth finds even hotter flesh, and your intentions are shameless, you begin to bite and suck, leaving deep purple bruises in your wake.

You were only just getting started with her, and Hermione is already a panting, writhing mess. Her breathless moans are music to your ears.

You proceed to suck on her nipple, hard, and merely revel at the feeling of her fingers tightening in your hair, the way she trembles helplessly underneath you.

Soon your tongue finds her navel, and it is a welcomed sensation, you nip at it lightly this time, Hermione squirms. “Y/n..” The sweet and perilous way she utters your name gives you no room to think.

You loop your fingers underneath the hem of her underwear, tugging them down, she lifts her hips dutifully, allowing you to take them off.

You look up at Hermione in the process, her stare is bright and demure, it fills you with pride. Your girlfriend remains to be the most comely specimen you have ever set eyes on.

Then, Hermione impatiently grips a fistful of your hair, as you inch closer to her weeping center you catch sight of it, swollen and glistening, you can smell her arousal, and it makes your mouth water.

Practically dizzy with want, you just about maintain some semblance of composure, leaning in to plant an experimental kiss against her folds.

Hermione whimpers at the feeling, the sight of you licking her arousal off your lips nearly tips her over the edge. She groans, but she does nothing else to rush you.

You find her compliance addictive, always as enticing as ever.

Finally, your open mouth makes contact with her sex, the sudden nature of it rips a cry out of Hermione.

Your tongue moves with bold strokes, you suck and kiss her repeatedly– however restless and greedy, it causes Hermione's legs to shake ever so slightly.

Her moans echo throughout the vast and vacant chambers, your girlfriend's fist tightens around your hair to the point of pain, and you make no plans to stop.

You shift your attention to her bundle of nerves, sucking, albeit slightly more tenderly as you bring a finger up to her entrance, prodding at it for a moment before pushing it inside, until you are knuckle deep.

And that does it– Hermione chokes out another loud moan, her body responding to you before her conscious mind can even catch up. She gasps despairingly as her climax washes over her.

Her grip on your hair finally loosens, and you pull your mouth away, soon your face is hovering over hers.

Slipping a hand underneath her neck, you hold her as she trembles, you observe as she attempts to catch her breath.

Your other hand doesn't move from in between her legs, a finger still inside of her, you can feel her cunt squeezing at it indecently.

Hermione's warm brown eyes still darkened with arousal as she gazed up at you.

“That was the quickest one yet.” You quip, but Hermione doesn't respond to your smug remark, instead meeting your lips with her own with real anguish.

She wants more, much more, you can feel it.

You retract your finger from her sex slightly, only to re enter with another. Hermione's whine slips past her lips directly into your own.

You pull your face away so you may look at her– watching her expression contort as you proceed to curl your digits inside of her.

Your girlfriend's hand flies to your bicep, her nails digging into your flesh.

Hermione mewls and whimpers pathetically with every tantalizing pump of your fingers, she begins grinding her hips against it, wordlessly urging you to move faster, but you don't comply, not yet.

“Tell me what you want, sweet girl.” You coax, and even after an orgasm, your girlfriend still appears as though she is on the verge of tears.

“Please..” Her voice trembles. You continue to slowly pump in and out of her, Hermione is so wet she is dripping down your hand.

“What do you need, tell me.” Your lips graze the shell of her ear, you kiss it knowing how it would only weaken her further.

“I need you to fuck me.” Hermione finally says, she is still gripping your bicep, her words are driven by her frustration, and they were exactly what you wanted to hear.

You are incapable of containing your grin then, soon rewarding her with a deep kiss. A moment passes before you pull away, retracting your fingers from her core entirely in the process.

Hermione's breath catches in her throat, a flicker of panic as she watches you move off her.

“Let me fetch my wand.” You quickly explain, and she releases your arm before nodding, she consents to your idea.

You rummage through your clothes that are strewn on the damp stone floor, fishing out your wand from your jacket.

You can feel Hermione's eyes on you, observing as you removed your underwear. A familiar sensation overcomes you as you waved your wand over your pelvic area.

When you turn to look at your girlfriend once more, Hermione has propped herself up on her elbows. No doubt she has been watching you intently, her gaze soon falls to the length in between your legs and you take notice of the way her chest is heaving uncontrollably.

The look of near primal hunger she wore unabashedly across her face was enough to drive you to the brink of madness, you needed to take her now.

You settle yourself on top of her once more, and Hermione kisses you again, haphazard and familiar, she wraps her leg around your waist, and you quickly decide there is no more easing into it. You grab the base of your shaft, lining up the tip of it to her entrance.

Hermione is forced to separate her mouth from your own as she nearly falls apart, her head thrown back in pure ecstasy when you enter her– immediately setting a rhythm with your hips.

She gasps with every thrust, your cock hitting every inch of her in a way that never fails to make her see stars.

Your own noises of pleasure are muffled against the crook of her neck, her grip on your back never falters as she holds you as close as she possibly could.

Hermione's cunt flutters against your girth, a sign that she was already approaching her peak, tightening around you with every stroke.

You were drunk on the feeling, her eagerness to feel you, to take her pleasure from you. She felt so warm and wet, her walls molded around your cock as if it was made for you.

You are fucking her mercilessly, selfish and without reserve. It is perfect. It is exactly what she asked for.

“I love you– so much.” Hermione's admittance sounds closer to a whimper, so helpless and meek, it makes you groan.

“I love you.” You respond in between thrusts, her nails are digging into your back, it makes you wince but it also makes you move harder.

You continue rutting into her, wild and unchecked, until finally she comes undone once more, she cries out from the force of her peak, her walls clenching around you so tight that you are forced to halt as your own orgasm hits you.

It comes on so intense that you can just barely hold yourself up, Hermione welcomes you to rest some of your weight against herself.

“Fucking hell–” You curse breathlessly after a prolonged silence, and Hermione's chuckles in response.

You lift your head to meet her gaze, expecting your girlfriend to appear at least a bit satiated, but the glint in her eye suggests otherwise.

She looks starved, needy, and so damned captivating.

Hermione threads her fingers through your hair, guiding your face to her own by the back of your head.

You attempt to bring your mouth closer, expecting a kiss, but instead, she takes your bottom lip in between her teeth, tugging on it hard enough to make you hiss in pain.

She only stops to glide her tongue across it soothingly, before dipping into your mouth.

You moan at the sudden chain of motions, eagerly massaging your own tongue against hers. Hermione doesn't let you pull away until you were both gasping into each other's mouths.

“I want to go again.” She declares, and you stare at her in astonishment and delight, you tenderly swipe the pad of your thumb across her cheek.

“Let us keep going forever.” You reply, and you meant it. You desire nothing more than to remain in this chamber with Hermione, just the two of you, like this, for all eternity.

It is unrealistic, foolish, there is only a short time left until you are inevitably forced to face reality, but neither of you wish to focus on that right now.

You plant a quick peck on her forehead, thrusting your hips forward playfully, Hermione's giggle rapidly morphs into a light moan as you move inside of her.

“Get on top.” You commanded, albeit without allowing her a moment to decide if she wanted to abide.

With a hand on the small of Hermione's back, you flip your positions with ease, your length still sheathed inside your girlfriend as she settles on your lap.

Hermione is now straddling you, and she doesn't require any further direction. Her hand rests against your chest in between your breasts as she starts to grind her hips.

You bite back a moan as your cock moves in and out of her at a delicious pace. You savor the feeling, allowing Hermione to set her own rhythm, however quick or slow she wishes to take you.

Your hand moves from the other woman's waist up to her breast, kneading in accordance with her movements.

Hermione's mouth falls agape, a sharp moan escapes her as you pinched her hardened nipple in between your fingers, tempted to feel them in your mouth once more.

She lifts herself up until only the tip of your shaft is inside before sinking down once more. Hermione does so repeatedly, chasing the feeling of your cock stretching her out, over and over.

Her moans only increase in volume the quicker she moves against your lap. Your own breathing picks up as you watch her, utterly captivated.

“You are so beautiful..” You manage to choke out, and a faint smile covers Hermione's features as she glances at you, her movements becoming more confident and unabashed.

She guides your hand that was once on her breast up to her lips, she skillfully guides your thumb into her mouth with her tongue. As she sucked on it with purpose, you can't help the guttural noise that leaves you. Your own arousal heightens considerably due to Hermione's valiant actions.

Soon she removes your thumb from her mouth, now coated in her saliva, she guides it further south towards her clit, and you need no further instruction.

You expertly rub at the sensitive nub, and Hermione arches her back, she allows the pleasure she feels to overtake her. Eventually letting go of your hand to brace herself against your chest once more.

All you can focus on is her deafening sounds of pleasure, and the sensation of her clenching purposefully around your cock, urging you to reach your peak with her.

Hermione sinks down onto your length once, lifting herself up before doing it again, and then she halts, crying out as her entire body tenses and trembles uncontrollably, you feel her walls fluttering helplessly around your girth, sucking you in even further.

Your girlfriend soon collapses onto you, the bottom half of her body no longer capable of supporting her own weight. Your moans of pleasure blended together as you reached your own climax.

You feel the rapid beating of her heart against your pounding chest as she lays on top of you. You could scarcely tell where Hermione ended and you began.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Now, you and Hermione are clothed once more, but neither of you are particularly eager to face whatever might be going on outside the chamber.

The ground shakes again, Hermione clutches your forearm as you both attempt to maintain your balance.

You recognize the sound of curses bouncing off and destroying the walls and structures above ground. The screams of pure terror that permeates suggest those curses might be bouncing off people too.

No doubt, in your fleeting absence, things have only gone from bad to worse.

You want to flee, to take Hermione far away from Hogwarts and hide, but you know that isn't an option. If the Dark Lord wins the battle here today, there is no hiding.

Hermione tugs on your arm as you take a step forward, deliberately preventing you from moving any further. You shift your glance towards her, and the look on her face shatters you.

She doesn't say anything at first, merely throwing herself in your arms. For a while you held her tightly, glad of any diversion at this point.

“I won't be able to carry on without you.” Hermione mutters against your shoulder.

Her words were blunt and conclusive, and yet so helpless, it made you want to weep. You couldn't imagine your life without her either.

“I know.” You respond soberly.

“But we can't stay down here. Harry needs our help.” You add, and at the mention of her best friend, Hermione seemed to gain her bearings, she pulls away, ending the hug.

Her stare is distant, you can tell she was deep in thought by the way her nose scrunched slightly as she chewed on the inside of her cheek– it made you smile.

“If we survive long enough to kill the remaining Horcruxes, we might stand a chance.” She states, with newfound determination.

You nod in agreement. “We have to try.”

Finally, she gazes at you, and just like that, her resolve falters. You felt compelled to grant her a knowing look before placing a lingering kiss on her forehead.

“Come on.” You say, tugging on her arm to lead her out of the chamber. No longer allowing either of you a chance to dither any further.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

By the time you leave the Chamber Of Secrets, things are far worse than you could have imagined.

The Death Eaters have infiltrated the castle, attacking from every which way. The air was engulfed in noises of various curses being thrown, structures being destroyed and people screaming.

Voldermort's followers have somehow managed to get through the protective barrier, and they are relentlessly attacking students and professors alike, no one is safe.

You catch a cloaked figure disapparating into sight just right above you. A knee jerk reaction urges you to extend your wand arm.

“Reducto!” Your careless move pays off as you deflect the Death Eater's curse. The now dead man, propels backwards into a group of students.

The force of your spell blew him to chunks, the sight of it causes the students to recoil, a few of them putting hands over their mouths, trying not to wretch.

It all works to unerve you as well, but the feeling of Hermione grabbing you urges you to stay alert.

Your girlfriend guides you to a fairly secluded area, the west wing of the castle. The ambiance is a stark contrast to the main hall, but the distant sounds of battle continues to leave you on edge.

Hermione pulls out the Marauder's Map once more, hoping luck will be on your side this time.

Still, you find no sign of Harry or Ron.

“Bloody hell, we'll never find them on that.” You remark in frustration, but not a moment later, Harry’s name finally appears upon the parchment.

“There they are, just there.” Hermione points to the spot on the paper, but just as she does, her friend's name disappears into the page once more.

“They just vanished. Just now, I saw it.” Hermione gapes, and you remain silent, the both of you trying to make sense of it.

Perhaps the map was faulty, but that doesn't make much sense considering how well it has worked before– Your mind reels, another beat passes, and then it hits you.

“Wait, maybe they've gone to the Room Of Requirement. It doesn't show up on the map, does it?” You suggest, and Hermione's eyes widen.

“That's right.” She says, then she is silent, as if thrown off balance, and you realize you have to take the reins this time.

“Let's go.” You grab her hand, leading the way this time, towards the astronomy wing.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You overhear a bit of commotion as you enter the room, Hermione lifts a finger up to her lips, gesturing that you stand back for a moment to listen, and you give her a curt nod in compliance.

“You have something of mine, I'd like it back.”

“What's wrong with the wand you have?”

You immediately recognize Harry's voice, as well as Draco's. It makes your heart sink to your stomach, he is still alive.

You have to see him.

You step forward past Hermione, and as expected she attempts to stop you.

“Y/n, wait.” She scolds in a hushed tone, but you advance anyway. Hermione now has no choice but to follow closely behind.

“Draco.” You call out to him, making yourself known. You then notice that he was not there alone, Goyle and Blaise stood on either side of him.

Harry and Ron whipped around at the sound of your voice, a look of what seems like relief upon their faces.

Your best friend on the other hand appears stunned, he only glances between you and Hermione.

Although you couldn't quite make out his expression, whether it was fear or guilt, the sight of you manages to pacify him well enough as he starts to lower his wand, but Goyle had other plans.

Goyle retracts his arm in preparation to attack, but your girlfriend reacts quickly.

“Expelliarmus!”

She doesn't manage to disarm the man, instead only provoking Goyle to re direct his wrath towards her.

In a fit of rage he throws another curse. “Avada Kedavra!” He shouts.

A flash of green appears, and your heart stops.

“Stupefy!” Hermione narrowly avoids the killing curse, and pure unfiltered dread overcomes you.

Your girlfriend could have easily just been killed at the hands of someone you once called a friend.

This realization acted like a jolt to your system, igniting a patent fury within you.

It shows clear on your face as you advance forward, Goyle flinches, lowering his wand.

Blaise and Draco are first to remove themselves from the scene, disappearing in the opposite direction.

“Look, mate– I didn't mean–” He starts, but as you take another step, the man panics, turning around to bolt out of sight.

Without a moment's thought you sprint after him, clutching your wand so tight that your knuckles begin to turn a shade paler.

“Goyle!” You shout, turning a corner, but he was nowhere to be found.

This only aided in infuriating you further.

“Don't hide from me, you fucking coward!” Your taunt proves effective, as a curse catapults your way.

In the throes of your rage, you manage to deflect it with ease. Goyle emerges from behind the large pile of discarded furniture, Draco and Blaise behind him.

“Crucio!” You shout without hesitation, the curse misses him by an inch.

Goyle's expression twists, but he doesn't attempt to strike back.

“Y/n!” “Come on, we've got the diadem.” Hermione's voice remains distant as you focus your attention on Golye.

“Sectumsempra!” You throw the curse, and then another immediately after. He deflects them one by one, but you are so relentless in your efforts that amidst the struggle, he inevitably loses his balance, landing on the ground.

You had a clear shot of him now, you extend your arm, but before you can decide which curse to torment him with, Hermione grabs you by the shoulder, forcefully turning you around.

“Stop, enough!” “Look at me.” She places a firm hand on your jaw, urging you to look upon her properly.

“I'm unhurt.” She reminds you, her tone now far more gentle as she wishes for her words to sink in.

“Please, we need to focus, y/n.” Hermione adds. Then, you avert your gaze, almost ashamed.

Hermione was right, now was hardly the time to allow your temper to guide you, hurting Goyle can't be your priority.

“Come.” She coaxes, intertwining your fingers, but before you can walk with her, you hear a scoff.

You turn to find no trace of Draco or Goyle, but Blaise remains standing, scowling at the pair of you in disgust.

“Pathetic.” He remarks, scornfully.

“I can hardly believe I ever considered you a friend.. you spineless fool.” Blaise hisses, staring directly at you.

You felt as though your insides were burning with the force of your anger, your jaw tightens.

Hermione only sighs, she clutches your hand tightly.

“Y/n please. Just leave it.” She begs, and a more sensible part of you hears her, deciding to be the bigger person, you turn around once more to take your leave with her.

“I should have killed your mudblood pet when I had the chance.” Blaise revolts in order to tempt a reaction out of you, and he succeeds.

You whisk around with the intention to fight back but before you can do anything, Blaise has his wand pointed directly at you.

“Fiendfyre.” He recites, and a steady stream of blazing heat flows out of his wand, engulfing the atmosphere.

“Aguamenti!” Hermione rapidly waves her wand, and a barricade of water prevents the two of you from being burnt alive, you can only observe as Blaise flees the scene.

Hermione holds the barrier for a long while but the fire doesn't let up, instead it only grows bigger and hotter.

“We have to run, I can't hold it much longer.” Your girlfriend's voice is strained, and you can only nod in acknowledgement as you prepared to run with her in the opposite direction.

The large sentient flame chases you through the room, twisting and morphing into different variations of beasts.

This was a curse you had never seen casted before, one you didn't understand how to subdue, and from the looks of it, neither did Hermione.

“Run!” You shout as you approach Harry and Ron, but it is too late. Fire has surrounded you on all sides. The room was going up in flames at a rapid pace, and you were bound to burn with it if you didn't act fast.

A bead of sweat rolls down your forehead, the sweltering heat making it difficult for you to think. But then, by a miracle, Ron stumbles upon a solution you were seeking.

He tosses the discarded pile of brooms onto the ground, enough for each of the boys and one for you and Hermione to share.

“Come on, this way!”

As you took flight, your girlfriend clutched onto you tightly, at one point even burying her face into your shoulder.

You couldn't tell if it was the prospect of flying that frightened her, or the mere possibility of plummeting to your death into a sea of flames.

Either way, you were terrified too.

“The doors!” Harry shouts as you approached the exit, and Hermione takes the initiative to force them open with her wand.

The four of you manage to escape the fire, stumbling out the room simultaneously.

Harry ungraciously sets Ravenclaw's diadem onto the ground. You manage to retrieve the Basilisk fang from your pocket, chucking it to him.

With one large motion, the chosen one stabs the Horcrux with the tooth, it flings up into the air violently, a screeching noise erupts, piercing and unsettling as it wailed in pain.

Harry kicks away the object mid air, and it flies into the Room Of Requirement, engulfed by the flames.

It is over– that is until the fire starts to take the shape of Lord Voldermort, three headed and angry, it charges towards all of you, but before it can cause any of you real damage, it is mercifully barred by the doors, the Room Of Requirement once again disappearing into the walls, as if it never existed at all.

You share a look of relief with Hermione, but it is shortlived at the sight of Harry suddenly collapsing onto the ground.

The man grimaces in pain, and you deduce that the Dark Lord must have sensed that yet another Horcrux had been destroyed, another part of his soul, gone.

By the time Harry opens his eyes to look up at the three of you, his chest is heaving violently, he speaks through heavy breaths.

“It's the snake– she's the last one. It's the last Horcrux.” Harry states, confirming your suspicions.

But then you pause, searching your memory, you think back to all those you have destroyed. Nagini being another part of the Dark Lord's soul made complete sense, but to your knowledge, Voldermort had split his soul into seven pieces, and you've only destroyed five Horcruxes so far.

There is one more you have yet to locate.

You glance at Hermione, and her brows were furrowed in similar confusion. Half a beat passes, and her expression shifts in accordance to your own, the realization graces the both of you at the same time, but neither of you dared to speak it aloud.

Harry was the final Horcrux.

Ron kneels next to his friend, a reaffirming hand on his shoulder. “Look inside him, Harry.”

"Find out where he is. If we find him, we can find the snake.” Ron suggests the perilous tactic, but Harry does as he is asked, you need to take every risk right now if you hoped to have any chance at defeating the Dark Lord.

His face twists in pain once more, Harry doesn't speak, his eyes clenched shut.

Soon, a worried Hermione kneels by him as well.

After several moments of tense anticipation, Harry gasps, as if it pained him every time his lungs fill with air, his eyes fly open before he speaks.

“I know where he is.” He croaks.

#hermione granger imagine #hermione x reader #slytherin au #hermione granger #harry potter #hermione granger x reader #hermione granger smut #harry x hermione #draco malfoy x reader

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megamindsecretlair · 6 months

Text

The King and I, Part 2

Pairing: King Ghezo x Virgin!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Mentions of violence, killing, slavery, forceful touching, and suicidal ideation. Kissing, mentions of female and male body parts. Doesn't follow canon of the movie.

Summary: You have waited in agony for King Ghezo to send the guards or the Agojie after you, after the stunt you pulled. He invites you on a morning walk instead where you have to address that he is not the man you thought he was.

Word Count: 2,856k

A/N: OMG! I am outdone by all the love and support for this one. Thank you!! I'm not so sure this will still be 3 parts. I'm not yet ready to say goodbye to these two. We'll see, bear with me! I haven't been feeling well, so this is a little short. Forgive me. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Taglist: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @honeyoriginalz @gg-trini @eggnox @naj-ay444 @sheepywritesfics @westside-rot @twocentuar @pinkpantheris @tchallasbabymama @sevikasblackgf @slippinninque @abeautifulmindexposed @neawarren @monaeesstuff @blackerthings

You did not know what to make of the King. You walked beside him, heading outside of the palace. There were no guards to follow you or servants to trail behind like ghosts. He had come to your room early this morning, looking fresh and radiant.

You, however, had not been able to sleep at all. It was too quiet in the palace. You were used to your father’s loud snores, your mother’s quiet murmurings. The noise from the surrounding forest.

When he came to your door, you had sleepily answered it, holding the door open just a crack. The crack had been enough.

“Will you kill me today, my Queen?” King Ghezo asked, like he did every day this past week. You didn’t understand him.

You feared that an Agojie would swoop in the middle of the night. Would hold their hand over your mouth and stab you through the heart. Night after night, you prepared for death. And morning after morning, it was kept at bay.

Beside you, the King walked with his head held high, shoulders back, and magnificent in royal blue robes swishing behind him. It was as if the air itself parted for him.

“The day is still young, my King,” you had told him. You don’t know why you said it, only that it seemed to please him. He smiled and invited you on a morning walk with him. He encouraged you to bring the knife with you.

Was this a trap?

Leaving the palace, you were greeted by just how large his land was. True, you knew he ruled over the whole kingdom, but his palace lands were huge. Jungle stretched in front of you. A worn path was set off to the right. In the distance, you saw the valley open up and the fruits of the palm oil trade were under way.

But the King set off to the left, towards the cliffs. The sun with its rich oranges and golds was starting to lighten the world. Like a giant’s eye waking up. The King kept moving, without a sound.

If he was finally going to kill you, he chose a fine morning to do it. The air was still, calm, and peaceful. The grass beneath your feet was soft. Its blades softly crunched beneath you.

You looked to the King once more. To the way he carried himself, flitting from one task to another. This past week, he had attended so many meetings. You were now expected to attend these meetings and sit by his side. You had moved to sit in one of the seats before him, but he had beckoned you to his side. You looked to his first wife, who merely smiled kindly.

She rarely spoke, so you didn’t bother to either. Once you sat by his side, in a place of honor, you had looked at him the entire meeting. It was hard to think that this man and the cruel man your father taunted you with were the same person. You kept your defenses up, but you were growing weary.

Maybe today was the day, after all. He had not come to your room since that night. You quickly learned that the eunuchs were horrible gossips. They would let everyone know that the King had not touched you. Had not planted a baby inside you yet. Every servant you passed gave you funny looks.

You wondered if they cackled and laughed at the skittish new wife who will not give the King a baby. Did they think you defective? Why should you care? You had not cared that your father treated you like elephant dung. You had not cared that your mother let him take you away forever. You did not care that you were married to the King.

You looked to the ever brightening sky as if you could see straight into Mawu-Lisa’s eyes. If they wanted you dead, so be it.

The King held out his hand to you. You looked at him and he only smiled patiently. You took his hand and he helped you climb the hill. At the top, there were trees with heavy foliage. He moved a branch aside and pulled you ahead of him.

Your breath escaped you. Before you, you could see the ocean. You sank clumsily to your knees as you looked at the sight. You had never seen it before. You lived too far inward and the river was fed from the ocean, so there was no reason to venture half a day there and back.

The sun rose over the water, stretching rays of red, orange, and gold across. The light refracted off of the water, like diamonds. The sound of the waves were mighty yet soft at the same time. As if that same giant heaved sighs as it awakened.

“I wanted to show you something that would make you smile,” King Ghezo said. He moved beside you and knelt down, running a finger across your cheek. You had not realized you were crying until you tore your gaze from the ocean and looked at his finger.

“Do not weep, my Queen.” His eyebrows drew together as if he cared about such things. As if it wounded him to see tears in your eyes.

You bowed your head, shook it. You were in such disbelief, you had no words. None. Such an everyday sight for him reduced you to silly tears.

“Why? Why do this?” You asked. Why allow you to see such beauty before he took it away forever?

The King looked towards the ocean. He sat so still, you did not think he would answer you. “How can I ensure my people’s happiness, if my own wife is unhappy?” He asked. He folded his hands in front of him.

“Your first wife…”

“I have a special relationship with her. As I hope to have with you. I do not see you as one of many. You are one. Unique. I thought giving you space, seeing me as a just ruler would help you come out of your shell. Perhaps I was wrong,” he said.

You chewed on your bottom lip, completely dumbfounded. Your head spun. There were too many conflicting emotions to make sense of any one. Somehow, he made you feel special even with the knowledge that you are not his only wife. In fact, there will be more after you. Each one thrown at his feet as you were. Or offered from other tribes in hopes of allyship against the Oyo.

A burning coil of anger knotted around your heart. You pressed your hand to it. What kind of feeling was that? It continued to burn and pressure burrowed. You did not have a name for that so you focused instead on the King.

“I am not unhappy,” you said, softly. And it was true. For the first time in your life, you felt…quiet. You have fought your entire life to be heard or seen. To make a mountain of yourself in the eyes of someone who saw you as a rock.

Here, you didn’t have to do that. People saw you. You had dreaded a life of invisibility. To be passed like stewed meat from father to husband, your role nothing more than a broodmare. To live an unremarkable life. To die never having known joy. Love.

Here…here was different. And you did not know how to put that into words for him.

“But you are not happy either,” he said.

He glanced at you, turning the full weight of his gaze on you. You searched his eyes with unspoken questions. What did he want from you? Could he not simply find someone easier, daintier, more demure, more accommodating, more…wifely.

Again, the burning coil squeezed your chest harder. You took deep breaths as you looked out over the ocean. That wondrous sight. The sky had lightened, the rich blue racing across the sky and beating back the paint splattered hues of the sun. Heat was starting to press in from the sun.

“Have you plotted yet, how to kill me?” He asked.

You huffed a laugh and he toppled over, holding his chest. “Ah, the first real smile I have seen on your face. Does my death bring you happiness?”

“N-no! I would never-”

He chuckled. His entire body shuffled as he did so. He still confused you so. It was frustrating! He stalked through life with his heart on his sleeve, emotions given freely. You ached with the desire to be the same way.

You were so mired in your own thoughts, you did not know which way was up. How could he identify them so quickly? Give them without reservation?

“I am messing with you. So tell me,” he said. He leaned up from the ground, resting his hands behind him to support his weight. The vivid blue of his robes ought to clash with the surrounding greenery, but he looked as home there as he did on the throne.

You fiddled with your hands, unsure what to say. Were you really going to joke about killing the King?

“If I told you, you would see it coming,” you offered. You peeked at him from underneath your lashes and he grinned. Oh, that grin. He was handsome, you had to admit.

“Beautiful and smart. A deadly combination in a Queen. I shall keep my eyes open then,” he said.

The tips of your ears burned looking at the intensity of his expression.

“Did you play here often as a boy?” You asked to break the tension. When he looked at you like that, it was far too easy to be ensnared. To remember that you were his wife. And you were all alone with your husband.

The stirrings of arousal made your belly flutter. Your core ache. You shifted on the ground and cleared your throat. You could not lose focus.

King Ghezo smiled. “I did. My father was busy with my brother, the heir. I was left alone, free to explore. Read. I used to watch the kingdom from here,” he said. He jerked his chin into the distance and you followed his line of sight.

There was a little alcove of land that you could see from this height. Then he turned his head and you did the same. You could see the entire expanse of the kingdom.

“Did you know? That you would one day be king?” You asked.

“No. Had I known, I would have run away,” he said.

You looked at him. A small smile hovered his lips. “I did not wish to be king. It is a heavy burden. So many look to you for safety. I have to fight tradition and the minds of men who see us only as property. How they can come here, look me in the eye, and wish I toiled their fields fills me with such…hatred.”

“But still you sell Oyo prisoners?” You asked.

“We cannot fight two wars. They know this. I know this. It is an ugly reality,” he said.

He never looked away from you or shied away from your questions. He did not tell you that this was not appropriate for someone who looked like you. Who had breasts instead of a penis. That you were incapable of understanding the harsh reality you all lived in.

“Will we ever be free? Truly free?”

“Yes. They cannot kill us faster than the hope in our hearts,” he said.

You nodded. You played with the hem of your orange robes. You did not know what to make of the king. But he was so passionate in everything he did or spoke of.

For the rest of the morning, you asked him questions about growing up, becoming King, and how he wished that one day, women would have more freedoms than they did now. That little girls would not be thrown away at the king’s feet.

“I will not kill you today, my King,” you said and smiled at him. Genuinely smiled. He matched your smile. He held out his hand and you took it without reservation. You will not kill him today. And it appears he will not kill you either.

He suddenly cocked his head, looking at you. “Since I am safe from your blade today, wife, may I ask you for something?”

“What?” You asked, an edge of wariness creeping into your tone.

“May I kiss you?” He asked.

Your lips parted. That was the last thing you expected him to ask. Your father had ensured that you were never left alone long enough to experience a kiss from any local boy. He didn’t want even a hint of impropriety when it came time to sell you.

Not trusting your words, you nodded. You wanted to know what his lips felt like against yours. It was a crazy notion, but it was there.

He leaned up from his relaxed position, never having left it throughout your entire conversation. He inched closer, settling next to you until he was pressed into your side.

You were as still as a statue. Your hands were planted on your thighs, fingers bunching up the fabric of your robes in a death grip. You watched everything he did. Every move of his powerful arms. His thick legs. The way his robes slanted over his exposed chest. A single droplet of sweat running between his pecs and down the front of his pants.

You swallowed hard, fighting the rising panic in your chest.

He reached out his hand and carefully extricated the fabric from your fingers. He massaged the feeling back into your fingers. Wasn’t he going to kiss you? You had said he could.

Your mind began to spin with anxious thoughts. Did he change his mind? Was he still going to?

“You must relax, my Queen. It is a kiss, nothing more,” he said.

You nodded and took deep breaths, willing your body to cool down. To be present. You were back to breathing normally, not quite holding yourself so stiffly.

He lifted a hand to run his finger across your cheek. His touch was warm, feather light against your skin. His finger trailed to below your chin.

“Close your eyes, my Queen,” he whispered.

You closed them slowly. Somehow not wanting to look away from him. He was so close. Your head screamed that this was inappropriate. But it wasn’t. You were his wife.

Once closed, he tipped your chin up. His breath fanned over your face. Smelling somehow sweet, as if he had sucked on fruit before coming to you this morning.

You felt his face get closer. Your belly flipped once more. You knew you grew damp and you half wondered if he’d be able to tell. Then, all you could think about was how wet you felt. How badly you wanted him to lift your dress. See how he made you feel since you had no words nor bravery to tell him.

His lips descended on yours like a bird landing on a delicate branch. His nose pressed into yours. You breathed in the heady aroma of the palm oil and other oils he rubbed into his hair and skin. He smelled earthy.

His lips moved over yours, pressing and retreating. You matched him, following his lead. He suckled your bottom lip into his mouth and a faint moan escaped you. Your clit throbbed. That was a new sensation, even for you.

It was as if he’d awakened something in you with each pass of his lips. He licked your lips and you gasped. He swooped in, slanting his tongue to play with yours. Your hands drew up to cup his wrist, still holding up your chin.

His skin was still warm. There was a faint bump bump of his heartbeat.

You grew out of breath but you didn’t care. His breath supplied yours. His kisses filled you with all the sustenance you needed. The world was so quiet where you sat, that you heard the smack of your lips. The wet plop and suckle of his tongue meeting yours. The gentle groan in his throat.

The heat of the day paled in comparison to the heat of his lips. The strength of his arm. The delicate way he held your head up to meet him. Savor him. Crave more and more.

His kisses slowed until your breaths mingled, panting for air. He rested his head against yours. Then, he kissed your cheek and your forehead.

Your eyes slowly opened and he looked at you with unbridled lust. You wondered if he’d go further. Demand more from you. You gave him this, what was more?

“If you do not kill me tomorrow either, my Queen, may I kiss you again?” He asked.

“Yes.” Yes, of course he could. Your lips tingled. You licked your lips, tongue searching for any remnants of him. More, your heart whispered. You looked at him as he pulled back to look at you too.

You smiled, knowing that pretty soon, your head and heart would gladly meet him in the middle.

The Secret King Ghezo Files | Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret King Ghezo Files #King Ghezo x Black!reader #x Black reader #King Ghezo x Black reader #King Ghezo x Fem!reader #King Ghezo x Fem reader #King Ghezo x virgin!reader #King Ghezo #The Woman King fanfic #The Woman King #The Woman King fan fic #The Woman King fanfiction #King Ghezo fanfic #King Ghezo fan fic #King Ghezo fanfiction #King Ghezo fan fiction

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tanuki-kimono · 1 year

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Hello! I keep reading fiction with kimono hemmed to fit, and I keep thinking that can't be right. I can see it if their genes mean widening shoulders, but aren't kimono folded and tucked under the obi? Thank you for looking over this detail. (I'll stay anonymous because it's an honest mistake, and I don't want specific writers to feel cornered about it)

Hi! Np for this anon ask, I'll just stress here I most often reply via Tumblr messenger so don't hesitate to ask for private answer if you need it :)

On to your question: you are right, hemming (in the Western sense of the word) a kimono is not usually done in traditional Japanese tailoring.

One of the main reasons is that fabric bolts (tanmono) are a somehow standard unit, with patterning done with kimono tailoring in mind (so motifs match between panels etc).

Hemming a kimono means important parts of your kimono design will disappear! It is especially true for woman's kimono who often often display patterns on their lower skirt + sleeves.

When you wear a kimono with woman styling, the kimono is supposed to be more or less your total height to fit you size. The extra material is then tucked at the waist to form what is called the ohashori fold hold up by ties (himo). That fold gives you leeway as to which kimono you can wear as it is much more forgiving than Western clothes sizing. Being tall simply mean your ohashori will be small or non existent.

Men styling is a bit different as men don't do ohashori, which mean the kimono is tailored to their exact size (= give or take your height minus 30cm).

Kimono were usually passed to new wearers as time went, which means they are supposed to be worn by several body types. So, what about when a kimono is truly too big/small for the wearer?

Fabric was once (and still is) an expensive material so cutting it was a big no! Cutting also meant loosing the original tanmono panneling which was a terrible thing to do for any future alterations.

We so have two scenarios:

1) the wearer is a child: tucks are made at the shoulders (kata age) to reduce width, waist (koshi age) to reduce lenght, and sleeves (sode age). You can see in this past note a great example showing how a kid grew into a kimono:

2) The wearer is an adult: the kimono would have been totally unsewn, and then sewn back together, hiding the extra material into seams/letting the fabric needed for bigger wearer.

Taking a kimono apart is not especially unheard of, and it is actually the traditional way to clean it (tokiarai = unstitching a kimono and washing / araihari = stretching pieces of a kimono on boards to dry after they have been washed and starched). You can see it done here:

youtube

Becky from Silk and bones has many kimono specimen photographed if you want to actually see how they are made - and just how much fabric can be hidden away into seams + how disastrous and infuriating it is to have a kimono with butchered cut fabric :(

TL:DR : People don't "hem" their kimono to wear them, women for ex. tuck the extra fabric away and go in their merry way. If sewing is needed, "hemming" is not exactly what would be done in kimono tailoring. A better way to describe it would probably be "adjusted" or "altered" to size :)

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cowboyfromh3ll · 7 months

Note

I'm a horrible writer, and I'd had this idea stuck in my head for weeks. If you have time, I'd love to see it in your writing style. Only if you want to, though.

Javier and fem!reader are in an established relationship, and have been ever since they were teenagers. They joined the gang together after Javier was run out of Mexico, and he asked her to run away with him. Like the bonnie to his clyde. When the gang arrives in horseshoe overlook, the reader starts to feel sick. She'd become close friends with Abigail, so she discussed how she had been feeling (Ex: Sore breasts, nausea in the morning or with smells of certain things)

and above all, her period is late. About 2 months late. She thought it might have just been stress, but Abigail suggested that she might be pregnant. The reader waited a little while before telling Javier, because she was nervous, scared, and overall afraid of what he'd say. They both knew how dangerous the world was for people like them. When getting ready to lie down to bed one night, Javier can tell that there's something wrong, and he pulls her aside. As they walk around the outskirts of camp, she finally tells him what was bothering her.

Maybe he takes her into town to celebrate? and by celebrate, I mean they get a hotel room. wink wonk

Let’s Go To Bed

(Javier Escuella x Fem!Reader Smut)

Forgive me I’m a busy little guy

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, pregnancy kink, praise kink

An acidic stripe of vomit moved up your throat in a way that reminded you of mercury rising in a thermometer. You felt the familiar sensation of gagging tugging at the back of your throat as you began to overproduce saliva, your body's attempt at preparation for the bitter regurgitation of this morning's breakfast. You briefly managed to swallow it down with a silent burp before groaning and falling back to sit on your ass.

“You look awful.” Abigail remarked, wrapping a shawl around your shivering shoulders. You could only nod in response, a line of saliva dripping down the side of your mouth as your head lolled to the side.

“I feel awful.” You groaned, leaning into Abigail’s hold. She dug through her pockets, fishing out a bottle that she presumably got from the medicine wagon. She more or less bottle fed the tonic to you, holding it to your lips and tipping your head backwards. The taste alone made you nearly gag once more, and you let out a strained grunt when she pulled it away. She then handed a mug of coffee to you, hoping it would replace the flavor of the tonic.

“Thank you so much Abigail… But I’m sorry I woke you up so early.” You apologized, holding the mug beneath your nose. The coffee seemed to be the only smell around camp that didn’t make your head spin in a vomit inducing nausea.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I couldn’t just ignore how sick you were. In fact, I’m surprised Javier didn’t wake up…” Abigail narrowed her eyes at him in a way that made you giggle. She had a point; your retching had been so loud and so close next to his body, you felt that even if you had spilled your guts all over him he still wouldn’t have woken up. He slept as though he had traveled on foot across the country and back.Though other members of camp had been awake at the time, they weren’t as well prepared to handle your sickness the same way Abigail was.

“Yeah… I don’t know how he can sleep like he doesn't have a care in the world..” You sighed, envying your husband for not having to suffer the same way you did.

“Well you should be his one care in the world!” She rebuked, rolling her eyes at his sleeping form. The two of you broke into silent laughter afterwards. Abigail looked back at you, a motherly concern in her eyes.

“You’ve been real sick lately, (Name). I’m beginning to worry. It comes at random too.” She sat down next to you, studying your body. She held a maternal air around her, worrying over you the same way an experienced guardian would in consulting their child and giving them advice.

“Girl talk, but have you and Javier been intimate lately?” Her question was straight to the point, blunt in a way that suggested she was looking to get to the bottom of this. You blushed and giggled nervously, looking back and forth between Javier and Abigail. Part of you felt that you’d be doing Javier a disservice by sharing details about your intimate life together with someone else, especially while his unconscious body bore witness.

“Uhm, yeah. I suppose so…” You nodded slowly, unable to look her in the eyes. She raised her brows and nodded knowingly.

“And what else have you been feeling?”

“Well, I’ve been tired and pretty out of breath, I thought I was just unfit or something?” It sounded as though you were trying to convince yourself of that more than you were Abigail. “And my breasts have been pretty sore, Javier did say they got bigger…”

Abigail rolled her eyes at that last remark. “Of course that’s the first thing the man notices and not how sick you’ve been.”

As if you were catching onto what Abigail was getting at, you added “And I haven’t gotten my period in two months…”

Her eyes went wide as her jaw dropped, covering her mouth in disbelief. Your resting expression turned into one of squeezed panic, like a rabbit being held by its neck. A recollection of the events of the past few months came gushing back to you, and everything seemed to click into place like a gear shifting inside clockwork, finally striking on the answer. A shared sense of knowing settled between you two.

“I thought I was just stressed?!” You seemed to bargain with the idea, attempting to grapple with any alternative explanation that wasn’t as severe as this. But Abigail pursed her lips and shook her head, confirming your fear.

You supposed in all the years you and Javier had been together, this was something that was bound to happen. The topic of pregnancy and having children together wasn’t necessarily a topic that was out of the question, but it also wasn’t something you had anticipated happening to you so abruptly. Though it made sense, you could only have so much unprotected sex without conceiving a child; and you and Javier had done plenty of that.

Another reason the idea never came fully into fruition during discussions was because you were both very well aware of the world around you. After having run away from Mexico, the two of you lived your lives constantly on the run. Coming into the country alone and not knowing the language, the two of you were all the other had. Living your life squalidly before finding some sense of stability within the Van Der Linde gang, but it had been years since then. You also knew raising a child in a gang environment wasn’t ideal, but Abigail had been doing it. Albeit with difficulty, but she had the entire gang there to support her. And you knew you’d have the same support system as well.

Abigail remained by your side in hushed conversation, offering you any advice she had for your situation. She said you were fortunate to have a man who actually gave a damn about you, so you would definitely have his support there. But there was an underlying sense of apprehensiveness at what Javier’s response would be, one that neither of you wanted to acknowledge as to not entertain the possibility.

Abigail saw you off by allowing you to keep the shawl and tonic, wishing you the best of luck in telling Javier the news. She reminded you that regardless of his reaction, she’d have your back as well. You thanked her hurriedly, as Javier had begun to toss awake. You sat there by his side as he blinked sleep away, smiling at the fact that you were the first thing he saw when he awoke.

“Buenos días, mi amor.” He croaked, his voice still hoarse from sleep. He slowly sat up from where he laid and rubbed his eyes. He gave you a second look, concern crossing his features and startling him awake.

“You look so sick, are you okay?” He suddenly leaned forward, attempting to cradle you and check for anything that might indicate less than perfect conditions. His hand brushed your breast, making you audibly groan from pain. He reeled his hand back like a young child who just touched a stove, looking on in morbid confusion as if trying to figure out what exactly was the cause of your pain.

“I’m just feeling a little nauseous this morning… and I’m a little sore too.” You tried to reassure him with a half hearted smile, contemplating when would be the right time to tell him. Not telling him simply wasn’t an option, after being together so long, it would be dishonest. Though when you told him one of your bodily symptoms was soreness, his mind seemed to go to the gutter as he slowly smirked.

“Hm, guess I was a little too rough on you last night, no?” He laughed to himself as you groaned, pushing his face away to hide your blush. A reminder of what exactly got you into this situation.

The day was torturously slow. There seemed to be a constant veil over your consciousness that set you and reality five feet apart. Every action felt disconnected from your body, and it was only when you looked down at your belly, that you felt grounded once again. The idea of having a life growing inside you filled you with a fresh sense of panic, rattling through your rib cage and fully spreading through your shoulders in cold harshness. At times, you would think about your future excitedly, pondering all the different ways in which you and Javier would embrace parenthood. Though those thoughts would quickly become sour and twisted, a fork in the metaphorical line of thought forming as you fearfully included the possibility that Javier might react negatively. At some point you had even begun crying at the thought of your nearly decade long relationship ending, to which all of the camp girls and a few of the men would try to comfort you, asking over and over what was wrong. It was only until Javier came over to you that you blurted out the question “Do you still love me?!”

Of course, Javier was quick to comfort you, allowing you to blabber as many inconsequential questions as you wanted while he held you. And while he was definitely used to dealing with your emotional outbursts, he was a professional at it, he found their sudden consistency to be quite alarming. At some points he had begun questioning himself, whether he had done something wrong; to which you’d have to end up comforting him from. That or the two of you would confess your anxieties to each other tearfully while reassuring each other; it was rather theatrical.

As you changed into your nightdown that night, you stopped for a moment longer to look at the latent swell in your belly. You smiled widely and rubbed it, sighing contentedly before turning around to face Javier; your joy mixing unpleasantly with fear. Hurriedly, you changed (to which he insisted you stay undressed a little longer) before settling into your tent together. You were fidgety, unable to find a proper position to lay down comfortably. The hardness of your cot, something you had become used to, became ten times worse in your heightened state of awareness, the overstimulation turning you ill-tempered.

“Amor, what’s wrong?” He placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it as if it would get the answer out of you. As if a switch had been flipped in you, triggered by the very question, your eyes began to water and your bottom lip began to tremble. Javier looked on in horror, thinking back on every word he’s ever said to you, overthinking his tone and inflection, reflecting on the past few days; he tried to find anything in between that might have caused you to become so emotional. You let out a wail as you sunk into his arms, confusing him to no end.

“What happened?! Are you okay? Please, just talk to me.” Javier’s voice quivered as he begged, completely at a loss as to how he could help you. People from camp had begun to sound their concern outside your tent, asking if the two of you needed help or to ask what was wrong. Fed up with the unwanted attention, he led you outside of camp away from everyone’s curious eyes, whispering comforting words to you as he led you into the woods.

He took your shoulders and turned you to face him before cupping your cheeks to tip your face upwards. Your melancholic expression felt like barbed wires squeezing his heart, and he pulled you into his chest for a hug. He shushed you soothingly, rubbing comforting circles on your back. After a few more moments of silent crying, you cleared your throat and sniffed.

“I’m pregnant.” You blurted out, looking into his face to immediately catch any expression change. At first Javier’s eyes merely widened, his jaw opening in a way reminiscent of Abigail’s earlier. After a few seconds, he smiled widely, hugging you even tighter. The spreading anxiety within you diminished and was replaced by a flood of relief that made you feel ten times lighter. You wrapped your arms around him to return the hug.

“Are you serious?! Amor, this is amazing I… I’m finally going to be a dad!” He exclaimed in a whisper. He looked like a kid who just received the best present on christmas morning, uncontrollably giddy from excitement. You smiled widely and wiped away your tears, nodding.

“How long have you known?”

“Well, I was speaking to Abigail about how I felt this morning and we deduced what was up with me and… I wanted to tell you soon because it was the right thing to do but I was also scared about how you’d react and I was just so nervous all day…” Your lip began to pout as more tears threatened to fall, but Javier wiped them away for you with his thumb. He leaned in to kiss you, your worries melting away like warm butter. Your body relaxed and released a tension you had not realized you had been holding onto.

“We have to celebrate.” He suggested, smiling.

“Right now?!” You giggled.

“Yes absolutely, let me get my horse, we’ll go into town. I’ll treat you to something.”

You had never felt happier as you watched Javier retrieve his horse, giggling when you watched him excitedly whisper into his horse’s ear about how he was going to be a father. Javier was the gentlest he had ever been as he helped you onto his horse, giving your knuckles a peck before getting on as well. You held onto his waist tightly as he spurred his horse into a gallop, and as you did, you felt his body tremble with excitement. You saw the low glow of Valentine as you approached the small town, the constant buzz of work having died down and turned in for the night. As people began winding down for the day, they ventured into bars or restaurants, buying the last of their errands at the general store, or resting up at the Saint’s Hotel.

Javier had bought you a multitude of treats and food despite your insistence on him not spending money on you. He splurged a little extra on buying you the finest new clothes, cotton skirts and form fitting blouses (he claimed he wanted to be able to see your belly when it swelled better). He refused to drink that night, claiming he would join you in sober solidarity. For the last event of the night, Javier insisted he buy a room for the two of you to sleep in, saying he could not allow his dear pregnant wife to sleep on a hard cot.

Though the two of you seemed to have other plans, because as soon as you entered the room, your hands were on each other. Your eager mouths united in a kiss that was far from sweet and gentle. Javier began pawing at your ass through your skirt as he sucked on your tongue and lips, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling.

As he undressed you vigorously, it appeared to you that the only reason he bought you the new clothes was to tear them off you immediately after. He nearly tore your bloomers off of you, leaving you stark naked as you sat on the bed. You laughed at Javier’s impatience as he threw his own vest off, followed by his shirt and jeans. And before long, he joined you in bed naked as well. He laid next to you and wasted no time in spreading your legs open, resting one of your legs atop his thighs. He prodded your lips with his middle and ring finger before pushing them into your mouth, shuddering at the feeling of your wet appendage circling his digits. He left his fingers in there for far longer than necessary, indulging in the feeling alone before retracting his hand, which still clung to your lips through a string of saliva.

He spread your folds open and gave your clit a quick flick, before sliding his fingers down past your vulva and to your entrance. He let out an involuntary moan at the feeling of your wet warmth as he dipped his fingers in, the both of you sighing in satisfaction when he slid in down to the knuckle.

“Fuck, you’re so warm… Can’t wait to be inside that tight cunt.” He whispered in your ear, the combined sensation of him fingering you and whispering into your ear causing you to shudder and mewl lewdly. He reached his thumb back and began rubbing your throbbing clit, and at the same time, connected his lips to your nipple. He kept in mind the sore state your breasts were in as he cupped one of them, kneading gently so as to not bring you any pain. But the light sting of soreness brought you some sort of pleasure, and your entire body began to squirm as Javier nibbled lightly on your nipple. You reached down towards his aching cock, which was leaking pre cum on the sheets below you (you felt bad for whoever it was that would be cleaning the sheets after tonight). You began stroking his throbbing erection, smearing his tip with your thumb, though your strokes were inconsistent and stuttered as he began fingering you harder, a smattering of your wetness soaking the sheets beneath your ass.

“It’s so cute how flustered I can get you with just my fingers, (Name)..” He hissed into your ears, kissing your lobe and tracing kisses down your neck. His cock was left forgotten on his lap as he fingered you to completion, cumming all over his fingers and hand. You let out a high pitched wail, rocking your hips against his fingers as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

“That’s it… Just like that… Such a good girl.” He smiled against your pulse before pressing a kiss to it. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, the corners of your vision spotted as you came back down from your climax. Your breath was stolen once again when Javier captured you in a kiss, far more tender but equally as passionate. He mounted your quivering body, holding your thighs open with one hand as he held your hand with the other. You moaned wantonly when he teased your clit and hole with his tip.

“Can’t wait to give our child a little brother or sister to play with one day… until then I’ll keep fucking you raw. We’re gonna have so many kids together…” He slid in as he finished talking, his voice turning into a whimper. Your wetness allowed for easy entry as he bottomed out.

There was a consistent wet slapping as Javier began fucking into you, throwing your legs over his shoulders. His expression was completely debauched, seemingly more aroused by the idea of permeating your womb with his cum. He shuddered at the very thought of you being pregnant, and was filled with a sense of anticipatory wonder and excitement when pondering the thought of expanding your family together.

“You look so good, can’t wait to see your belly swell…” Javier threw his head back and his eyes slid slowly closed, wetting his lips with his tongue as though his words left a decadent taste on his lips. His hips pistoned into you with determination, and within a few minutes he ended up cumming. Though you barely registered the fact he did, as he kept thrusting into you. You groaned at the feeling of his cum seeping out of you, only to be fucked back inside by him. He scooped up any that escaped, claiming that it all needed to be inside you. A white halo formed at his base, and his fascination with watching his cock disappear into you bordered on obsession.

“Take all my cum.” He breathed into your ear, his breath hitching as he came again. The two of you laid there together, dissolving into a chorus of breathlessness as you tried to recollect yourselves. You both became an amalgamation of combined limbs as you embraced each other, not minding the intense body heat the both of you emitted, even if it became unbearable.

“I love you, Javier…” You sighed, burying your face in his neck. He smelled of sweat and faintly of scented shampoos and products.

“I love you too, amor.” He kissed your forehead. He made it a point to shift his hips into a more comfortable position to remain inside you, harboring some sort of irrational fear that if he slid out, you might somehow wake up not pregnant.

He held you tight as you fell asleep, and oh, how quickly you gave in to exhaustion. His chest swelled with pride and excitement, and every time he felt himself getting closer to sleep, the thought of soon being a father made him skittish and ripped sleep away from him. And at once, all the violence and pain that it took to get to this point made sense.

Let's Go To Bed - The Cure

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 x reader #van der linde gang x reader #writing #red dead fanfiction #javier escuella fluff #javier escuella x reader smut #javier escuella smut #javier escuella rdr2 #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella

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yourqueenb · 5 months

Text

I thought I’d be able to write a semi coherent post expressing my thoughts on the finale and the book overall after stepping away from it for a while. But as I’ve started thinking about it again, I’ve only gotten more annoyed. So here’s some disorganized rambling on my issues with Blades 2 instead. Probably just gonna make separate posts for my thoughts as they come to me.

I feel like I should start with Valax because she’s one of the biggest reasons why I feel like this book was absolute dogshit tbh. When you create a whole new character who will eventually be instated as member of the main friend group or an LI, there’s a certain amount of prep work that has to go into establishing them as a character. That work doubles when the character starts off in opposition to the MC or other important characters. And in Valax’s case, not only did she start off simply opposing MC and what we stood for, she stole us from our home and family, forced and kept us in a vulnerable state (for a year? 2 weeks? do we even know atp?), and then violated us by quite literally trying to bleed us dry.

MC’s kidnapping and torture were the catalyst for this entire book. Yet the perpetrator doesn’t have to acknowledge anything that she did at all… Our friends can ignore and downplay what happened (even though it was apparently oh so hard without us) for the better half of the book… And worst of all, MC defaults to brushing everything off, placing trust in this person, and even going out of the way to empathize with her at every turn.

We have the option to express some anger and frustration with our friends’ treatment of us in a rushed scene in the second to last chapter of the book. But that’s where the majority of the focus goes. The only mention of Valax is MC expressing confusion about her role in things and a little bit of hurt about being “betrayed”. Yet up until that point, the writers had done nothing meaningful outside of diamond scenes to actually establish her as someone that could be trusted or become a friend, nothing to show that she could empathize with MC and the insane amount of trauma inflicted on MC and friends because of her, and nothing to prove that she was even seeking forgiveness for it in the first place.

Then to add the icing on the cake, they turn around and invoke the word “friend” in reference to Valax at every opportunity in the last chapter. They have her claiming she couldn’t hurt us. Pouting and shedding a couple of tears in what is probably the most ridiculous and melodramatic CG I’ve ever seen. And MC once again empathizing with her at every turn. Placing trust in her, protecting her, standing up for her, offering to leave her friends, family, and entire life behind to go to the Shadow realm with her.

It’s already been established that MC was basically just a tool the writers used to tell all of the other characters’ (especially Nia’s) stories. But as of now, I feel Valax far surpasses Nia in that regard. MC had to bleed, lose time that can’t be replaced, have her agency stripped from her, and ultimately suffer in silence through all of it just so Valax (a completely new character) could have her lackluster story told in scenes that you don’t even see if you don’t pay for them.

#choices bolas #choices blades #blades of light and shadow #choices stories you play #playchoices #choices #choices app

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

Note

Hiii my favourite Aemond writer!!Can we get some femdom for Aemond with praise kink and him begging to cum inside? 👀👀

Hi my favourite anon! You got it!

Just a quick note to add I have seven other requests in my asks currently and my turnaround time is around 2-4 weeks - if I haven't responded to your request yet, it means I am working on it.

Warnings: Smut. Word count: ~950

"So it is settled." Aemond decides, as he sits at the head of the long table in the Red Keep's council chambers. "Criston and I will gather an army and we will march against Daemon at Harrenhal."

Murmurs of agreement echo around him.

When Aegon had become grievously injured during the battle at Rook's Rest, Aemond had taken over as Prince Regent in his stead, taking up the mantle of Protector of the Realm. As such, he had also asummed responsibility of making battle plans to defend his brother's claim to the throne against his half sister and uncle.

He has gathered the Small Council here today to discuss their next strategy of attack and all are now in mutual understanding of what needs to happen next.

"Criston, I trust you are able to make the necessary arrangements? We depart in three days. If there is nothing more to discuss then you are all free to go."

Criston nods in assent, standing and filing out of the room with the others, leaving Aemond sitting alone.

It is but a few moments later that she appears in the doorway and he visibly relaxes at the sight of her, his posture immediately becoming less rigid as she sweeps into the room. Her skirts flow elegantly behind her as she approaches him, never breaking eye contact.

His eye flutters closed, leaning into the warmth of her palm as she reaches out a hand to caress his cheek.

"You did so well today." She purrs. "Such a good boy."

He shivers at her praise, staring up at her, his pupil blown wide with lust. His hands reach needily for her, grasping at her hips.

"Have you had enough of playing fearless leader for today?" She simpers. "Need me to make it all better?"

Aemond swallows thickly, nodding his head. "Please." He whispers, pushing his chair back and allowing space for her to straddle his lap.

She sits astride him, her head bowing slightly under the weight of the iron and ruby crown as Aemond lifts it carefully from his own head to place upon hers.

"My Queen." He breathes, lips parted as he stares up at her with pure, unadultered adoration.

Her fingers trail playfully over the lacings of his breeches, smirking when she feels him straining against them. "My, my." She teases. "Who is this for?"

"You, only you." He grits out, struggling to control his breathing as her hand ghosts over his hardened length through his trousers. "Please..."

"Please, what?" She cocks her head. "Use your words."

"Please touch me." Aemond whimpers, bucking against her hand.

"I am touching you, silly boy."

"I need more." He practically whines.

She shows mercy, freeing his erection and languidly running her hand up and down its thick length. "Like this?"

He screws his eye shut, the tendons in his neck straining under the effort to keep his composure. "Let me inside you. Please, my Queen."

She releases her hold of him, rucking her skirts up above her hips, revealing her bare cunt to him, already glistening with slick. "In here?"

He inhales sharply, a fresh wave of arousal causing his cock to ache painfully as he realises she's not wearing any small clothes. He reaches out to touch her, but his actions are halted as she grabs his wrist.

"Ah, ah, ah!" She chides. "You mustn't touch without permission."

He flexes his fingers before dropping his hand back to the arm of the chair. "Forgive me, my Queen. Please, please let me inside."

She giggles, it is a dulcet, playful sound. "Well, I suppose since you asked so nicely..."

She grasps his member once more, positioning it at her entrance and sinking down slowly.

Aemond's jaw goes slack as he feels her tight, wet heat envelope him. His nails dig crescent moons into the wooden arms of the chair.

As soon as he is fully sheathed inside of her, his fingertips reach up towards the top of her bodice, right eye flickering to hers. "May I? Please?"

"Take what you need." She says softly, her hand stroking through his silken strands of silver hair.

He tugs down the garment, freeing her breasts and immediately taking the taut peak of one greedily into his mouth.

She begins to rock her hips against his, feeling him groan around her as he slides in and out of her. Lewd wet sounds echo off of the vaulted ceiling, mingled with breathy gasps and moans as she bounces in his lap, fingers still tangled within his hair.

He releases her breast with a wet popping sound, quickly focusing his attention on the other. He can tell from the white hot sparks that lick at his stones and lower back that he will not last. His prick is already starting to pulsate.

"I need release." He whispers hotly against her skin.

"Already?" She asks, never faltering from the pace she has set atop his lap.

"Mmm. Please. Let me spill inside of you." His voice sounds strangled with desperation.

"And what makes you think I would allow you to do that?"

"I've been so good today, such a good boy for you. Please, please..." He babbles.

She chuckles, continuining to roll her hips against his. "Alright then. I suppose you have been. You may spend inside of me."

Aemond's entire body tenses before shuddering as he releases rope after rope of his pearly spend inside of her with a loud grunt.

She carries on stroking his hair, fucking him through his peak until he goes limp against her.

"Thank you, my Queen." He murmurs.

"Such a good boy." She replies, holding him against her chest.

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viviswtings · 1 year

Text

He's a dick.

(Part 2 of Alcohol Wet)

Words: 1975.

Warnings: I think none? Like, bad words? (It's literally the Sullys like my girl Kiri was screaming "Penis Face" at like four years old). Angst but not major. Like "heartbreak" angst but not bad ending. Not good either. Not proofread and English isn't my first language.

Notes: Uhm... So, yeah. This is gonna take longer than expected. But I'm pretty sure it won't take more than three parts. I just wanted to put this out there already because I'm such a slow writer and my life's worth of trauma is like taking over again after literally seven years... So idk how long part three will take. (There'll be some spice, for those patient enough). I'm so sorry if it's not up to what you expected.

Tuk was holding the arrow with her two fingers, bow pulled almost tight enough.

He tapped her elbow, so she’d raise it a bit more. Now the bow was perfectly tense. He put his hand under her stretched arm, for her aim was perfect.

“Shoot”. The arrow made a hissing sound as it flew, thudding against the bark of the target. His sister sighed in content and he smiled up at her. “Attagirl”

He got up, patting her head while sporting the proudest smile. Being a teacher wasn’t the first thing that came to his mind when he thought about learning how to lead the clan. But his father had proved, once again, that he knew what he was doing when he instructed him to teach the young hunters. They had his hand full at all times.

Tuk smiled and pointed at the target, laughing. She wasn’t looking his way anymore. Instead, her focus seemed to be way behind him.

“Sänume!” The young girl smiled so brightly it was almost blinding.

But not as blinding as the woman approaching them. She carried a basket against her hip, while her long loincloth rested just on the dip of her waist, showing off the curves of her upper thighs as her neckpiece made a clinking noise when she moved. Towards them. She was moving towards them.

“I see, Tukie” She answered his sister with a smile that could be even heard in her voice “That’s why you didn’t show up today. I was worried”.

“I was with my brother” The little one confessed, almost immediately. At twelve years of age, Tuktirey kept being the sweetest girl in High Camp. At least to her brother’s eyes.

“Sorry for keeping her from class”. He chimed in. “My mother said I could take her for an excursion and I took the chance”.

“It’s quite alright. I was actually going to take these to your mother” She pointed to the basket against her hip, full of fruit, her smile never faltering. But, for a moment, Neteyam thought it was weird her eyes weren’t on him while they talked. “I hope she’s doing alright”

“It’s getting harder to move, but she’s healthy” He answered, getting closer to her so he may take the basket. It looked heavy.

She took a step back and her eyes wandered. The woman was absolutely avoiding him. And the stinging feeling the realisation left behind almost had him wincing. Like a needle had stung his skin and now he felt the need to rub his hand against the spot to soothe it.

“I’ll get to her, then” The young woman looked down at her feet, toes curling and weight shifting from one foot to the other “I’m sure she’ll need some help”.

Neteyam nodded, not knowing what else to say. He wanted to ask her what he had done. What had make her so angry that she couldn’t even look at his face. He hadn’t seen her in days, and now that he was finally back she was keeping those sweet eyes of hers from him.

“She’ll appreciate it” He almost whispered, afraid his voice would break if he was any louder.

A nod. That’s all she gave before stepping away from him and next to Tuk, kissing the top of her head bending just slightly, while his sister held onto her waist for a hug. What wouldn’t he do for her to forgive whatever he had done, let alone hold her waist in his hands?

Her whole chest felt like it was crushing down. Her ribs hurt when she tried to breathe and her throat had closed on her once she stepped away from him, ears low and tail almost touching the floor.

The young man had been out on a mission for his father alongside the whole party of warriors he had been leading for months. The olo’eyktan had to stay behind, too preoccupied with his pregnant mate to even think about parting from her.

She saw him before he left. Had expected for him to say something, anything. But he didn’t. He was his usual self, lovely as always, and with that assured smile and sly looks of his, she lacked the courage to even ask if he remembered anything at all about the previous night.

After he came back, triumphant and proud, all pumped up and as handsome as she had ever seen him, he had approached her with the brightest smile, his four canines showing in the aloofest way. Her heart betrayed her as she laughed with him, letting him grab her by the forearms as his touch left goosebumps in their wake. Maybe he’d tell her that night, during the feast. Or so she hoped.

He didn’t show up. And the next morning he didn’t show his face either.

Was he avoiding her? She’d much rather believe he simply couldn’t recall what happened between them.

If he did, five days had passed since then and he hadn’t uttered a word. It had costed her restless nights, crying her heart out in her little hut in the back of High Camp, wails so desperate the woman who lived closest had brought her herbs to make infusions so her heart would heal.

Why would he care about her? She was a teacher for a lack of something more useful she could do. She couldn’t hunt, couldn’t dance, couldn’t weave nor carve and having her attending to the fire with the elderly was almost an insult to them.

She broke down, crouching as she left the basket of fruit beside her on the floor. Her insides hurt, she felt ill. Why had she believed him? He had been so sweet, his kiss so warm and the words he spoke disarming her. Now she felt like she had given all she was to him and he had tossed her aside, not even acknowledging her.

Soon a pair of hands cradled her, long, slim arms wrapping around her, smell so familiar she couldn’t help but cry harder into her shoulder.

Kiri was so kind, she didn’t even ask what bothered her so deeply, so desperately she was weeping just a few feet away from her family home. But she didn’t mind, helping her stand and taking the basket, dismissing her refusal to step inside with her, face congested and skin burning.

When she finally convinced her, she left her resting next to the fire, grabbing everything she needed to make something that would calm her down and make her feel better. Her mother had heard too, so she was making some for her aching back as well.

Neytiri had asked for the girl to sit by her side, taken a look at the fruit she brought and given her most sincere thanks. She would lie if she said she wasn’t worried about her. Her hormones were raging, and all she wanted to do was cry with her.

“Sweet girl” She spoke softly, taking her hand in hers. “What makes you so upset?”

The look in her eyes almost broke her. The mother felt tears burn her eyes as she held her hand against her mouth, trying as best she could to keep her composure. The kid didn’t need for her to break down as well.

“I don’t want to bother you” The girl answered, and the sorrow was laced within her voice. Neytiri knew sorrow like no other, and she couldn’t help but wonder what could make a perfectly happy young girl cry like that.

Deep down she knew. Not many things make a woman sorrowful as love. Love for her parents, her siblings, her children, her home… her mate. Thankfully, Jake had never caused her such sorrow, and looking at the kid in front of her she was once more thankful for the gift The Great Mother had bestowed upon her all those years ago.

“You can speak” She assured her. “It’s just us in here, Jake and my sons left early today and they won’t be back for a while”

But she wouldn’t speak. Whatever plagued her mind being too embarrassing for her to say out loud. As Tsahik, most women confided in her, and she was grateful for their trust. “I will never tell, sweet child. Whatever burdens you, you may share it with me and maybe seek comfort in The Mother”.

“She means it’s just us girls” Kiri hadn’t made a noise, startling her when she put the bowls of tea down on the floor in front of them. “So we won’t tell on you”.

The thought was tempting. Telling them what made her cry at night and mindlessly go through her days. But they’d probably think she was being dramatic. Maybe she needed to hear exactly that. How dramatic she was being and how unimportant her feelings were compared to everything else going on.

She needed a good reality check.

So she told them. About the night, the liquor and the touches. She got carried away talking about how kissed her. “He said then I’d be his”. She admitted, looking down at the cold tea in her hands. “Claimed he was mine already. I thought he meant it. I believed he’d ask me for us to, maybe, perhaps… mate”. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she finished, sniffling as her fingers turned white against the bowl.

“He’s a dick”. Kiri concluded, brow furrowed and an angry look in her face. “You don’t just get someone’s hopes up like that and then leave them hanging. Fucking asshole”.

Neytiri looked at her daughter, her lips in a thin line and overall expression stern. She didn’t know what to tell the poor girl. Had it been her, she’d be in her same situation. “He probably doesn’t remember” She tried her best to sound reassuring. “It’ll fix itself, the whole thing. Sooner than you think, believe me”.

She didn’t. By the look on her glassy eyes she didn’t believe a single word that left her mouth. But Neytiri did not lie. She hadn’t said it out of pity and not meant it. She wouldn’t do such a thing to an aching soul.

“Now…” She tried to get comfortable, her swollen belly making her whole body ache. When she found the right position, she felt the angry kicks inside her, so she had to reposition herself on the pillows.

Soon, big, hardened hands helped her up gently, moving her so she’d lay over the cushions comfortably. She couldn’t help the smile as she thanked the handsome man beside her, who squeezed her shoulders affectionately.

“Kiri, why don’t you take her home” Jake spoke softly, making sure he didn’t disturb the calm that had settled on them. “It’s getting late, resting will do you good, kid. You look like you’ve had it rough”

He settled behind her, letting Neytiri rest her back against him as Kiri nodded and helped the girl get up. They both said their goodbyes sweetly and left. What a good kid. Her Jake’s decision to make her the children’s caretaker had been a good one. Someone with such a tender heart must’ve made the children feel very well loved.

“She meant your son” She finally said when the girls were far enough.

“So he’s my son when he fucks up”. The rumbling in his chest made her laugh, slapping his thigh softly. “Should I talk to him?”

“No” She rested her hand right where it was, caressing the skin absentmindedly now. “No, he’s a man. Let him fix his own mistakes”

“Poor kid if she has to wait ‘til then” She felt Jake shake his head. “Boy’s a knucklehead”

They remained silent after that, at least for a while. Neytiri was already dozing off when her mate spoke.

“But he does care. So he better hurry his blue ass and make things right”

She chuckled softly before closing her eyes.

Taglist: @littlexscarletxwitchh @parrotpeggyy @gabrijelasworld @iwanttohitmyself @syulangg @lovekeeho @sharkybabe9 @hislaevv @who-is-ej @randxmthxughts

#netyam sully #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x oc #neteyam x y/n #adult neteyam #jake x neytiri #adult netyam #avatar the way of water #atwow #i'm so sorry if it's not what you were all expecting #it's not what i expected either

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yesimwriting · 1 year

Text

Slow Nights

A/n in a bit of a jason todd mood and i’ve been dealing with the writers block that comes from going through a rough couple of days, so i’m just going with the flow!

also i feel like the fic world has shifted away from first person, but i was in the mood for it and i write to improve and felt like working on my first person voice😭 pls forgive me

Summary: There are a lot of risks that come from being a female waitress at a small diner in Gotham. You didn’t realize that one of them would be developing a small crush cautious friendship with the intimidating, broody guy that keeps weird hours and always squeezes himself into the smallest booth near the window with a paper back.

----

Appreciate the slow nights. That’s what Marta said before my first closing shift, when it was just the two of us and the long window that displayed a nearly empty street. I understood instantly. In Gotham, nothing’s guaranteed. Most criminals--petty or psychotic supervillain--don’t have the decency to wait until nightfall for their crimes. But there’s something about working until 3 AM that’s eerie, like you’re daring some testosterone fueled, ego maniac that’s had a little too much to drink to do rob you. Or worse.

“You think anyone would notice if we closed early?” It’s not an actual offer, just part of our routine. I ask this question anytime between 1:00 and 2:00 and Marta pretends to contemplate as she wipes down a counter or sweeps or does anything she can to keep busy. Her answer is always something about how Bobby, the owner, has a sixth sense about these kind of things or some other kind of joke that makes Bobby seem like the bottom line obsessed ass he is.

She lets out a small sound at the back of her throat, ending her dutiful organization of plastic protected menus. “I think that boyfriend of yours would.”

The comment strikes a nerve deep in my stomach. An uncomfortable warmth begins to spread through my face. The fact that she’s straying from her usual joke to poke fun at that amplifies the message. The twitch of her mouth tells me she knows exactly what she’s done. “Oh, he is not--” She’s oddly smug for someone who’s always giving me a warning look when I linger around a certain table too long, a kind of worry that’s so distinctly grandmotherly I can feel the silent warnings against my skin. “He’s a costumer, a regular. That’s it.”

“Your customer,” her eyes are back on her menus, two of them are stuck together, “Your regular.” She pushes the nail of her thumb between the edge of the barriers. They let go of each other with a soft pop.

Maybe I always take Jason’s table, but it’s only because everyone else was too scared to at first and now it’s just...routine. Like Marta and I pretending we’d close more than a few minutes early or the way that Adam, my least favorite closing shift partner, never sweeps correctly and always tries to find an excuse to walk me to my car. “Only because everyone else is too scared to talk to him.”

She hums once, low and disbelieving. “Okay, because you know he--” I frown as Marta struggles to find the words. A part of me wants to tell her she doesn’t need to bother. I know because despite all the teasing, she sees him almost as much as I do. Jason comes in and he’s a living canvas of deep blues and sick yellows and the kind of crimson that has to be fresh.

That’s what initially broke the ice between us. Marta stayed behind the counter and when I finally walked up to his booth, the first thing I noted was the bloody knuckles and the Jane Austen paperback. He asked for a coffee, black. I brought it to him, along with a damp rag and a few bandaids from the first aid kit in the back. I didn’t think about how weird and kind of silly that was until I was at his table. Taking it back to the kitchen after he had seen it felt even more pathetic so I silently set them down next to the coffee. He barely nodded in acknowledgement before turning to his book.

When I came back to bring him his check, he looked particularly annoyed as he stared at the pages in front of him. For a second, the potential aggression turned my blood to ice. Awkwardly, I noted the cover and how far into the book he was, so I nervously mumbled the first thing I thought of. “Darcy, right?” He had looked surprised and I quickly jumped to defend myself, “You just um--you look like you’re around the proposal scene and for me, at least, it’s um--it’s equally bad every time.”

That got his expression to soften a little, enough for him to ask how I had managed to figure out where he was based on his facial expression and how open his book was. After that, it was something else, something that went on until closing and ended with a 20$ tip and a walk to my car.

“You’re too smart for that, Mija.”

Marta’s words bring me back. I nod, the motion hollow. The quick acceptance leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. It’s a betrayal even though Marta didn’t really say anything and nothing she implied was factually wrong. Defensiveness immediately tries to crawl its way out of my throat. There’s a lot I could tell her. It might be so normal for Jason to have his knuckles split that the one time he didn’t, I teased him about it until he threatened to leave early and never come back, but he’s not whatever violence he won’t explain and I won’t ever ask about without a joke barrier for safety. He’s that one smile that makes you feel like you’ve earned something; and the jokes that kind of take you by surprise because you wouldn’t expect someone so physically intimidating to have a sense of humor that lighthearted; and he’s the books he reads, tears through so quickly he almost always has a new cover when he comes in.

“Yeah,” I mumble, trying to convince myself that this isn’t the betrayal it feels like, “He’s just a regular that’s nice to talk to. It’s not like I ask him to come in or anything.” It’s not like I could, considering I have no way of contacting him. It’s not like he’s a friend I could text.

The familiar creek of the front door’s tired hinges has Marta raising her eyebrows at me. A customer...around 2 AM...as we’re talking about Jason. There’s a silent understanding between us and the look she gives me isn’t subtle. We both know exactly who it is, so I push myself away from the kitchen counter we’ve been leaning against and grab a pot of coffee before placing a hand on the door that leads to the counters.

“You ever think the stale coffee isn’t what he comes in for?”

I still, the words rolling in my chest uncomfortably because the thought doesn’t bother me. At all. I push past the door before she can gage my reaction.

He’s already in his usual seat--the farthest booth in the back, right next to the window. “Y’know the other day this family came in, three toddlers they could barely keep track of and a newborn in a stroller and the mom trying to get all their orders while the dad filled out the crossword on his phone.” I start pouring the coffee before I’ve even looked at him. “And the part I was most offended by was that he was sitting right there.”

Jason’s watching me carefully, the curve of his lips gentle, “How dare he?”

I look up, setting the pot on the table next to his cup. Even though I can practically feel Marta’s gaze on us, I can’t help but indulge in this part of our usual exchange. The moment in which I let myself really look at him, examining each part of his face for new or healing bruises or scratches carefully.

There’s only one particularly notable mark, but this one is intense, right beneath an eye that’s clearly swollen. “Right?” I force my eyes to focus on anything else. “We should put up a sign.”

“VIP treatment,” there’s a shift in his tone that I feel more than hear, a precursor to some comment that toes the line between friendly and something else, “You saying I’m your favorite?”

He tilts his head slightly, eyes watching my expression with a carefulness that’s tangible. That’s part of how he plays into the space between casual and flirty, through the small things. “Well, you are my best tipper.”

Jason frowns, pushing himself a little further into his seat as if physically moved by his offense. “So that’s all I’m good for?”

I roll my eyes, ignoring the dangerous warmth settling in my chest. “You never stop me when I start talking about books, so I guess you’re good for that, too.”

“You guess?”

Scoffing, I let my attention fall to the seat across from him. It’s not like I sit with him every time he comes in, if he comes in during daylight hours it’s usually impossible. But nights are different...

Marta’s words come back, a little heavier now.

Jason takes a quick sip of his coffee and looks over at the space in front of him. “...You guys busy?”

There’s something there, trying to hide in the way the sentence comes out. The glue that holds us together is the unspoken-ness of all of it. He never mentions the bandaids and wet rags I bring when he needs them unless he’s making a joke about it. And I never bring up the regularity of his presence.

“Oh, yeah,” I joke, moving to sit across from him, “You should know how busy 2AM is for us by now.” I tap my nails against the surface of the table. “We might have to move you.”

Jason lets out a small sound that’s somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Thought this was my table?”

I shrug, trying my best to not seem too amused. “You were getting too comfortable.” He keeps one hand on the table, relaxing in his seat as he waits for me to continue. “Can’t have you thinking I like you or anything.”

He inhales, letting the silence between us linger. There’s a fragile quality to the space between words that has me focusing on his physical appearance again. I did miss something. Not a bruise or a cut, but the bags beneath his eyes that seem deeper today than they usually are and the shadow tainting his expression and the fact that he hasn’t even mentioned the book he brought in with him.

“I believe you.”

I roll my eyes at his sarcasm because I’m supposed to. There’s no place for that kind of worry, no where for it all to go. He’s just someone that comes in for his coffee. Just someone that keeps me company during closing and sometimes makes a boring afternoon shift more entertaining. “Shut up.”

Jason doesn’t immediately jump to push at what’s clearly a hollow response. The silence eases itself back into existence. Normally lulls like this make me feel flighty or like I need to say anything to make sure I’m not the awkward one. But there’s no stiffness that I feel the need to fight against, it’s just us.

Even though Marta’s definitely only pretending not to watch us as she wipes down the counter that I already cleaned, it really is just me and him, and when it’s like that, it’s easy to talk. Sure, we wrap the layers of heavier stuff in layers of teasing fluff and bad jokes, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

“That eye makes you a little hard to look at.”

He scoffs, his lips pulling downwards. “Ouch. That hurt worse than the punch, sweetheart.”

My nose wrinkles. “Did not.”

“Bruised feelings are--”

I groan before he can get the rest of his words out, “Do not say ‘as bad as a bruised face’.”

Jason’s mouth stays partially open, like the second half of his sentence hasn’t realized that it has no where to go. There’s something kind of funny about easily over 6′, looks like he belongs in some kind of alley Jason glaring at me like an offended goldfish. “You’re mean.”

“And you’re cheesy,” I counter, leaning a little closer as my forearms relax on the table, “I’m just saying you need to take better care of your face, it’s one of your better qualities.”

Oh no. The realization that I’ve made a mistake doesn’t settle until the words are already out of my mouth. Jason’s relaxed posture as he reaches for his coffee makes it clear that he’s noticed, too. I blink, pained at the realization that there’s no where to backtrack to.

He takes a long sip of dark liquid before setting the cup between us. “One of my better qualities?”

The nail of my thumb presses into the wood of the table. “Okay, I said ‘your face was one of your better qualities’, it’s not like I called you hot.”

Jason smiles in a way that’s so damn knowing, “I know.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

He shrugs, still too amused, “Maybe I missed you.”

That’s...new. Sure, he’s been gone for a few days but that’s nothing crazy. It wasn’t even the longest stretch of time he’s disappeared for. All that matters is that Jason’s here more days than he’s not. All that matters is that he eventually comes back and things always feel like he never left.

Part of the reason that it works so seamlessly is because we never talk about his absence (with the exception of me making a joke that must have been cheating on me and him swearing he could never). I never mention that when he does come back, he usually has more marks on his skin than usual...or the fact that I worry.

“Maybe I missed you, too.” It feels like a confession, a weight peeling itself off of my chest. “Even though you’re a total dork.”

“I’m the dork?”

“The ‘one black coffee’ order is trying way too hard for you not to be.” It’s an argument we’ve had before. Black coffee with no additives in the middle of the night, like he’s working at being mysterious even though he cracks open as easily as whatever book he’s reading.

He sits up a little straighter, an argument that likely insults my coffee order clearly ready. The squeak of the front door’s hinges steal the spotlight before Jason can get it out.

I turn my head, looking past the booth and down the aisle. A group of four guys have already stumbled in. I instinctually stand. One of the guys is laughing, slurring out some story I can’t make out as his friend tries to push off of his shoulder as he sways. The shortest starts to laugh as well, punching his friend in the arm as he gestures vaguely towards me. Great.

“We’re closing.” Marta’s voice is firm as she makes her presence clear.

“You close at 3:00,” the tallest one challenges her, stepping further into the space, “That’s what it says on the door...and...” He makes a show of turning over his wrist and checking his watch, “It’s only...2:53.” The number comes out so slurred it twists in my stomach. He shuffles towards the counter, a look that’s too sharp to not feel sober taking over his expression, “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“It’s fine.” My lips press together after the sentence, hoping that Marta feels safe enough to stay out of it. “I’ll seat them.”

I grab a few menus from the hostess counter that Marta stocked for the morning shift. I lead them to the first table that’s angled away from the counter. Marta’s jumpy and not always good at hiding it. Besides, I like the thought of anything shady happening farther from Marta. She has some issues with her right knee and she refuses to get it looked at. If things ever came down to running...

I force the thought out of my head as I set a menu down in front of the seats.

“Thank you, love.” The tall one--when did he get so close.

I nod once, attempting a polite smile that hopefully hides my nerves as I try to side step around him. The back of my arm hits something firm. “Woah.” Something squeezes my shoulder and my entire body turns to stone. “Pretty thing like you shouldn’t be so jumpy.”

The taller one angles his body to the left, subtly blocking off my original plan of escape. Part of Marta’s face is blocked by the man’s shoulder, but I can still make out her concern. Her lips part and I want her help as much as I dread it.

“Hey, babe--” Jason. The strangers, weirdly aware for how inebriated they seemed earlier, take their time looking at Jason. They take him and the implication of his presence in quickly. I’m released at a speed that I can barely register. Even the tallest one takes a step back to give me the space to breathe. “You almost done?”

Even though the babe clued me into his strategy almost immediately (Jason’s nicknames choices are usually more creative), it takes a second for my thoughts to catch up with the rest of me. “Yeah, after them we should be good to go home.”

Jason takes his time looking over at each of the strangers in a way that could pass as casual if it wasn’t for the lock of his jaw. Maybe if I wasn’t used to him, used to the way he looks when we debate plot points and recommend music to each other, his expression would seem less distinct. But I do know him, know the way he tends to shrink in on himself when little kids are running around the diner so he doesn’t seem overly intimidating.

“Take your time,” he finally manages, attention falling back to me. I’m so distracted by the tension melting in my stomach that I barely register Jason moving towards me. I don’t know what he’s doing until his arm’s comfortably wrapped around my shoulders. Something in my chest jumps. I don’t think we’ve ever touched before. “I can be here all night.”

He’s so warm. “Shouldn’t be long, babe.”

“Hm.” He gives my shoulder one last, assuring squeeze before stepping back. He doesn’t go far, sitting at the counter instead of his usual seat in the back. Less than a foot away.

Jason’s proximity gives me the confidence to go through the whole waitress bit, “Can I get you guys started with something to drink?”

The tall one looks over at his friends, awkwardly clearing his throat before saying, “Could we just get some waters to go? I’d hate to keep you past closing.”

I now get the concept of scary dog privileges better than ever before. “Yeah, we can do that.”

The excuse to get behind the counter, back to Jason and Marta is unbelievably relieving. I’m there in almost an instant. Marta’s already pouring water into to-go cups.

“You okay?” Jason’s voice is low, eyes so soft it’s hard to believe that a second ago he was intimidating to anyone.

I nod once, “Yeah.” And I really am. The group was menacing and they got a little close than most creepy guys do, but it’s not the first time a group of guys found entertainment in terrorizing a waitress at the end of a long night out. “Drunk assholes are just a...work hazard.”

My attempt to brush off the incident doesn’t seem to work. Instead of easing, Jason’s jaw locks again. “That happen a lot?”

I shrug, kind of regretting saying anything. It’s not like I’m constantly in danger, but waitresses are easy prey. They have to be somewhat nice to you and they’re stuck in place. And we’re in Gotham, any type of assault case is low on the authority’s priority list, which makes it low risk. “You’re here most nights, Jay, you know it’s usually empty.”

He nods once, the motion stiff. His unasked question sits between us: what about when I’m not here? I don’t want to get into the whole thing, so maybe it’s a good thing I have to go back and give the guys their waters. It’ll give me a chance to regroup an go back to something lighter. Those guys and all this tension have taken enough of our reunion away from us.

I look over at the counter and the styrophone cups are gone. The one time I want an excuse to walk away from Jason is the one time Marta goes out of her way to leave us alone.

Marta re-enters the space behind the counter. “They paid, they’re leaving.” As if on cue, the door’s signature squeak overlaps with the last syllable. “And we’re finally closed.”

“Finally.”

With no warning, Jason leans over the counter and grabs a napkin off of the stack kept next to the soda machine. “You have a pen?”

What? Before I can ask where the sudden urge to draw something came from, Marta wordlessly hands over the pen attached to her apron. That level of acknowledgement from her throws me through a loop. Technically, she’s not even working anymore so the pen thing was completely voluntary.

Jason accepts her offer slowly, as if worried that there’s a chance he’ll startle her and force her to either run off or stab him. Marta does give the energy that she could either way.

“What are you doing?” He doesn’t even have the decency to look up at me in acknowledgement. “Are you trying to draw their faces from memory in case they need--”

Jason slides over the napkin wordlessly so that 10 evenly written digits face me, two dashes dividing the numbers into two segments of three and one of four. A phone number. “This is--”

“If anyone like that shows up again, you can text me and I’ll...I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The confirmation that this is his phone number hits me straight in the chest, and the reasoning behind the gesture forces the feeling to linger. Here’s Jason, always careful to never reveal too much about himself and he’s...he’s trusting me. I turn my head enough to look at Marta, who just nods patiently. That’s different.

I pick up the napkin like it might dissolve into nothing between my fingertips. “So basically I call if I have a problem, and you come and beat it up.”

“Basically.”

I stare at the number again, studying the surprising neatness of the line they’re in like it can reveal something new about the person that wrote them. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but the gesture feels heavy. “Thanks.”

Jason briefly angles his chin downwards in a subtle version of a nod, “Don’t mention it.” He probably means that literally, so I just set the napkin back down and fold it neatly. “Anything for my fake girlfriend.”

“Fake girlfriend of two minutes.”

He leans a little closer, “A natural two minutes.”

I don’t even try to disguise my probably too smug laugh, “For you, maybe.”

“You caught on a little fast.” I narrow my eyes. “Leaned into--”

“I think the person that gave you that black eye also gave you brain damage.” The jokes are easy to not to mind when they’re about him being obsessed with me, not the other way around.

Jason presses his lips together in what could be either an attempt at sulking or scowling, it’s hard to tell with his eyes that soft. “It’s like being punched again.”

“Dramatic.” I fight to keep my expression flat as I step back from the counter. “I’m gonna change and grab my bag, then you can walk me to my car.”

He scoffs, a brief puff of air that’s pretending to be more annoyed than it is. “Someone’s bossy.”

I turn towards the door that leads to a small break room, “Fake boyfriend duties.”

The door to the break room shuts before he can say anything else. I put the napkin Jason gave me into my bag before changing out of my uniform and into sweats. Normally, knowing that I don’t have to work for two days is nothing but relieving. It’s still a relaxing thought, but something about it also makes me feel like I’m stuck. Maybe it’s the fact that Jason just came back and the next time I work will be a lunch shift--which is, for whatever reason, the shift he’s least likely to crash.

I won’t see or talk to him for a few days, and that’s long enough for him to disappear again. More days, more weeks.

Forcing those thoughts down somewhere deep, I roll my shoulders before grabbing my bag and shutting my locker. We still have the moments that take to get to my car, and that’s all whatever friendship we have is...tiny moments.

“Okay,” I announce my return to the main area, “You ready?”

He’s already standing, the book we never got to held loosely in one hand. “I was waiting for you.”

I hold my hands up in defense even though this is far from his most annoyed response. “Someone’s moody.”

He sighs, taking a step towards me. I barely have the chance to pull my bag off of me before Jason hooks a finger around it’s strap. He swings it onto his shoulder easily. the walk to the parking lot is short, but Jason always takes my bag. I’m not sure how it started, but like most of us, it happened on accident and stuck.

“Moody?”

The word is repeated back to me with an offense that’s punctuated by a hint of surprise. It’s a fair reaction. Now that I’m thinking about it, the word feels like it’s underserving him. It’d be easy to take in Jason’s general vibe and sum him up as mostly angsty or just another tough guy born on the streets of Gotham.

We reach the door. “Eh...you’ve got layers.”

He almost smiles, “Really?” I can feel his smugness growing and I’m glad that I’m in a position to open the door and step away from it. My hand moves forward. Jason shifts, angling himself in a way that leaves me still. He’s not blocking my escape, not really, but the implication of how close he’s standing is enough to make me still. “What are they?”

The air in my lungs jams itself in my throat mid breath.

“I’m ready to lock up if--” Marta stops halfway between the tables and the door. Something about her expression makes proximity that felt innocent moments before off. “If you’re ready to go.”

“Uh--yeah,” I hum, placing a hand on the door, “I’m--yeah, I’m--” I push the front door open as if that will prove my point, “We’re good.”

Marta nods slowly, “Okay.”

I walk out and Jason follows. After a second, Marta appears behind us. She mumbles a general goodnight instead of pointedly tacking my name onto it before getting into her car and driving off.

Jason opens my car door for me. I get in, take my bag back, and turn on my car even though Jason’s still standing there and the door’s still open. “Your tire pressure--”

I shake my head dismissively, ignoring the symbol that’s lit up on my dashboard. “I’m getting to it.” He gives me a look and I sigh. “I’ll go this week, mom.”

“Funny.” He leans closer to my car with no warning, head peaking in to examine my dash. Nosy.

“Relax, I got my oil changed.”

He eases a bit at that, moving back to where he was before. “After I told you to for a week.”

“It was not a week.” It did come close, though. It was getting close to the end of the semester and my car wasn’t a priority. Plus, Jason’s lectures about it were a little entertaining and gave me another piece of information to file away about him. “Maybe I liked your car rants.”

“Yeah?”

I shrug, relaxing into my seat, “You knew a lot of technical words.”

The corner of his mouth turns up slightly, “So that’s what you’re into?”

“You wish,” my return is a little slower, the early stages of drowsiness finally getting a chance to catch up to me now that things are calm.

Jason frowns, eyes lingering on my expression. I guess I don’t pass his inspection because he says, “You should get home.”

I nod, hoping no disappointment is visible on my face. “Yeah, it is kinda late.” My hand finds the handle of the car’s door. “See you around, dork.”

Jason throws me a look, half glaring, “Night, loser.”

With one last look, I shut the door. I turn my attention to the steering wheel. Just drive. A part of me wants to linger, to maybe say something else. But there’s nothing else.

In an attempted compromise, I reach into my bag and pull out the napkin. The numbers aren’t as easy to make out in the dark, so I have to squint to type them into my phone. This is normal. I mean, I might have a reason to text him later and if he doesn’t know that this is my number, he might ignore it or miss it or--

Ugh. Before I can over think it, I type a short text: it’s Y/n. Even though there’s no way for that to come off as weird, I’m glad I have an excuse to shove my phone back into my bag and not look at it for at least 15 minutes.

----

This bag should be called the black hole, because the moment you need something, it’s swallowed into an abyss. I’ve found multiple sticks of gum, a handful of change, and a chapstick I thought I lost weeks ago, but not my keys.

I sigh, picking up my phone so that I can use the flashlight. Before I can swipe to get the option, my attention shifts to the recent notifications. Two texts my phone has labeled as being from maybe: Jason. The first his just his name. The second is a longer message saying that I already knew that, because he’s the one that gave me this number. It’s a distinction that’s so specific and particular it’d feel a little awkward coming from anyone else.

I let myself think about it for a second before swiping the message open. I type out a reply before erasing it. Another moment of deliberation passes before the words come to me. I type it out and hit send in the same breath. You’re lucky you’re pretty.

I drop my phone back into my bag and shift around the contents. The void must have taken another victim, because it’s finally spit up my keys.

----

A/n i could see myself making a part 2 to this where this reader meets redhood and doesnt know its jason bc i was originally going to make this longer, but idk!

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #dc #dc x reader #redhood #redhood x reader

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gyqru · 7 months

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౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ dare i say im just a sucker for absolute chaos. reader is not safe around me. (little bit dark?)

ethan hated that he couldn't control his own life, that he let his father's words control his mind. repeating every degrading word over and over again.

he never let on, though. ethan never talked to anyone about his issues, not even to you, the only person in his life he seemed to have control over. it was exhilarating to him, finally being in power of something in his life.

his relationship with you seemed perfect; you were his perfection. his naive, malleable, loving girlfriend who looked at him as a savior. he knew you couldn't go a day without him, couldn't think for yourself, needed him to guide you.

the once shy and awkward boy had turned into a knight in shining armor to you. he would mend your wounds and whisper sweet nothings as you sobbed into his shoulder. you melted in his hands like putty, bringing him so much joy.

you clung to him like a lost puppy, looking at him for answers. when you didn't understand something mindy would say, ethan would be there to help you, dumbing down whatever horror movie nonsense mindy spewed out; helping his little girlfriend comprehend what was going on.

being ghostface gave ethan a sense of confidence he never knew he had. the whole shy, loser, nerd facade was just that, a facade. under all of those awkward antics was a killer.

ethan loved how people cowered in fear around him. attacking his group of friends was the highlight of his day, seeing how your big doe eyes stared at him in fear, fat teardrops falling down your face. you whimpered and begged him to have mercy, not to hurt you, which was music to his ears.

he could never bring himself to kill his beloved girlfriend. yet he couldn't stop himself from damaging you.

picking you up by your neck and slamming you repeatedly against a wall, making small cuts on your chest and legs, knowing that once this was done, he'd be there to kiss them better.

it was a sick game of cat and mouse he played, yet he loved how, no matter what, you were always there for him, with open arms and dopey smiles. always making him feel like he was on cloud nine. no one else mattered to you besides ethan.

after the major attack at the carpenters', ethan was the number one suspect. his shitty alibi only worked because beforehand, you two were together before he left you to “go study for econ.”

ethan regretted nothing. it was only you and the carpenter sisters left. there he stood, unmasked, wearing the all-black robe, holding a knife and mask.

your savior was now revealed to be your tormentor, and your whole life crashed. though now ethan wasn’t there to build you back up.

alice talks ⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚

forgive me guys, i really just go into the deepest parts of my brain, pick something random and start to type away. i am just one selfish self indulgent writer. this is just a silly 400 something word drabble. i swear ill feed y’all that part 2 turned series soon.

#scream.com ୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ☆#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry #scream 6 #scream vi #gyqru #ethan landry x y/n #blurb #oneshot #fanfic #writing #ghostface

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narrynukezankielover · 11 days

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I find the beginning of I’m No Angel cute and funny. Dean is worried sick about Cas especially once he finds out that the angels are working together and killing people. He says if they get to him before we do and all Sam does is sit there trying hard not to tell Dean to calm his ass down. It’s an example of Sam knowing which I really like. Then when they are looking for Cas and Dean describes him as dark hair and blue eyes. It’s a simple description yet I still love it. He’s spent enough time eye f*cking Cas he should know the colour of his eyes.

The poor boy looked like he was about 2 seconds away from losing it from seeing Cas dead and i’m pretty sure in the script it doesn’t say Cas dies then Dean places his hands on both sides of Cas face lovingly anf gently.

I absolutely love this part. First of all as Ezekiel (I know it’s Gadriel but at this point they don’t) is fixing Cas Dean is mouthing come on. Sam faints after Ezekiel fixes Cas and Dean is about to go over to check on Sam and as soon as he hears Cas say his name his head whipped around soooo fast. Then Dean takes another opportunity to put his hands on Cas leg and chest. Think this is Jensens choice again and I’m very happy with his choices.

This actually made me bust out laughing. Cas told Dean and Sam that he had sex with April (think that was her name). Dean looks proud and Sam looks disgusted. I think Sam is trying to figure out why Cas would tell them that not realizing that Cas told Dean back a few seasons ago that he was a virgin so he knew Dean at least would be happy for him. Personally I don’t think Cas really liked misses even before she started torturing him I think it was just a human thing he wanted to experience.

This broke my heart. I feel bad for Dean. He’s in such a hard place. He either has to tell Cas to leave and have him defend for himself as a human which he’s not used to doing and running away from angels that want to kill him or he lets Cas stay and Sam dies. The worst thing is he was extremely happy to finally have Cas in the bunker where he could protect him and take care of him and then gets his heart broken when told he has to tell Cas to leave. I’m guessing the writers tried to explain it with Dean defending Cas and saying that he’s the one that the angels are after, he only let Ezekiel possess Sam because Cas said he was a good angel and that he has the tattoo. Ezekiel saying that misses found Cas even with the tattoo but they never explained how misses found Cas. Dean is extremely confused because he knows the tattoo keeps the angels from finding people so Cas should be protected. I feel bad for Cas because now he has to be by himself again but I also feel bad for Dean because he had to be the one to tell Cas to leave.

If Cas could see the love and sadness in Dean eyes here he would forgive him right away (Heaven Cant’t Wait). I know Dean doesn’t want Sam around or talking to Cas because he knows if he does Sam will say something about Cas deciding to leave and Cas would tell Sam that Dean told him to leave and Sam would know something was wrong since Dean wanted Cas in the bunker but it’s a nice excuse for Cas and Dean to be alone. Sam questioned Dean if there’s no case and you’re not going to see Cas then what’s the point? At least Sam knows how much Dean wants to see Cas. Cas obviously wanted to see Dean too since he called him about the case not Sam. Well 99% of the time he does call Dean but right now he’s feeling rejected by Dean and yet he still calls him and probably knows Dean will drop everything to go there.

Dean says I can’t let you do this and I didn’t see the way Cas looked at him at first but then I realized Cas was hoping he would say don’t go on this date stay here with me.

Dean tells Cas to unbutton some of the buttons on his shirt and Dean is obviously enjoying the sight. He has a huge smile on his face and checking Cas out then when he realizes Cas is looking at him he goes back to making sure Cas looks good.

Earlier in the ep Dean was being as asshole telling Cas he was too good to be working in a little store not realizing Cas has to get money now for food, supplies and whatever else he needs or wants. I think Dean still looks at Cas and sees the strong (as in mentally) angel that he’s used to. He’s used to Cas being more then happy to help them with cases and now that Cas wants to be good at his job Dean didn’t understand it until this point. He now realizes Cas is still mentally strong and if he got to be human he’s going to do it the best he can. He even tells Cas he’s proud of him and Cas looks happy to hear it. I think hearing that Dean is proud of him made him feel better about Dean telling him to leave the bunker. In an earlier ep (the dead people turning to zombies one) Dean couldn’t understand why Bobbys wife wasn’t telling Bobby the truth. She said to Dean you’ve never been in love have you. She wanted to keep Bobby happy and protected (I can’t remember her exact words). Here Dean didn’t tell Cas that the spell was irreversible because he thought Cas was happy as a human and didn’t know what he would do if he knew he was never going to be an angel again. I guess Dean is in love now. Lastly when Cas got out of the car you can see how hard it was for both of them to say goodbye. Dean actually had to let out a deep breath before he could look at Cas again and Cas looked sad as he walked to the store.

#castiel #cockles #dean x castiel #destiel #deancas

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sherl-grey · 7 months

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dangerous words I fear but I’m craving some OFMD critical but civil discourse… s2 finale spoilers included below the cut. this is incredibly long FYI bc I’m truly desperate to get all my thoughts out

I want to preface by saying I loved S2. I think I loved it more than s1, I think there were some absolute GENIUS moments this season (the entire Calypso episode was *chef’s kiss* my favorite), and I think the cast, crew, and DJ deserve a lot of love and, of course, a renewal for another season.

I know there’s been a lot of anti-finale-critiquing posts out there (and yeah, I also don’t want to see baseless hate or, god forbid, people trying to interact with the cast/crew with anything less than love and respect) but personally, I think the biggest sign that I love a show is me wanting to pick it apart. I think digging into the writing and decision-making and characters of a show means you really appreciate the choices that were made even if you don’t agree with them, because you’re working to understand the story on a level most people only dive to if they’re forced to in an English class. No story is going to be perfect. No story is going to be written specifically for me unless it’s literally by me. But sometimes I still want to study it like a bug under a microscope, you know?

So here we go: I didn’t like the finale, and I didn’t think it fit very well with the rest of the season/show. Weirdly enough I didn’t feel a need to discuss online until I started reading the interviews DJ has been giving about the finale (specifically the choice to kill Izzy and Ed/Stede’s ending) and I’m so curious as to whether others interpreted things the same way. (Yes, they’re DJ’s characters. No, I don’t think all viewers are obligated to interpret things the same way as writers did—that’s half the beauty of storytelling and media consumption.)

Izzy’s Death

Let’s unpack the big one first. I think a lot of what DJ/finale defenders (if I may respectfully call fans who enjoyed s2e8 that) have mentioned is that Izzy’s arc was over and he’d served his narrative purpose. I’ve got a few different issues with this:

1. Part of what I love(d?) about this show is that I did not think this was a show that kills characters once they’ve served their narrative purpose, or a show that kills characters as punishment/retribution for mistakes/earlier actions. To me, OFMD symbolizes the idea that everyone is deserving of love, forgiveness, and second chances. I truly trusted that no one on the Revenge crew would die in this show, and to be proven wrong was a bit disheartening, to say the least. Will talk more on the suicide notion in the next bit because I think it was symbolic, but Izzy also now represents a suicidal character who finds the will to live again. I’d argue that a “full arc” for a character like that should be ending in happiness, not death (and especially not with a line like “I want to go” or whatever the specific words were).

2. DJ seems to describe Izzy’s role as being a mentor to Blackbeard, which I personally struggle to see at all. Despite the Captain/First Mate status difference, I think most signs have pointed towards them being roughly equals—the unrequited love Izzy feels for Ed, the way the two of them stand right up to each other when everyone else would be afraid to, the clear shared history and longevity of their friendship/companionship. (If anything, I’d argue Izzy takes on the mentor mantle for Stede in s2, though it’s a bit glossed over because of how crunched for time everything was.) I certainly have trouble seeing the “father figure” relationship that DJ mentions in interviews, because I think Izzy is the one crew member that puts himself on even ground with his captains.

But even humoring that, Ed’s story has been about shedding Blackbeard. And DJ has a great quote in the Entertainment Weekly interview where he says that Izzy and Ed are both Blackbeard, that the two of them together are what makes Blackbeard “happen.” So in theory, if we’re killing Izzy off to further Ed’s storyline, it’s to ultimately kill Blackbeard, right? Especially since his line at the end is to “just be Ed.”

Except we already have metaphorically killed Blackbeard, several times. I think S2E3 is a really interesting episode because in season 1, it can be argued (and is, by Chauncey Badminton) that Stede kills Blackbeard in his own pirate-y way—with kindness. The crew is also somewhat a part of this, as they all accept and love Ed for who he is and not only because he’s Blackbeard; the crew follows the example of their captain and it changes who Ed is as a person. S2E3 is a crew under Blackbeard, and they also kill Blackbeard following the method of their current captain—violence. And this “death” is, in my mind, the death of Blackbeard while Stede symbolically saves the part of him that is just Ed. (Bonus: we also get Ed trying to sink his leathers, and while it might just be because he’s on a damn boat, it’s interesting that Blackbeard’s clothes are drowned/sunk while Ed’s metaphorical comeback was being saved from drowning by Mer!Stede.)

So Ed’s half of Blackbeard is dead. If we stand by DJ’s idea that Blackbeard is half Izzy, we’ve still got half of Blackbeard left, right? Well, that would’ve been right immediately post-S1, but then they gave Izzy a beautiful arc that seems to be a shadow of Ed’s S1 track. Ed and Izzy are very similar characters, but in S1 Ed is on the receiving end of love, acceptance, and admiration—namely from Stede, but also from the crew. Meanwhile, Izzy is subject to contempt and hostility… once again, namely from Stede, and also from the crew. Ed blossoms under the love during S1 until that’s taken away; Izzy simply moves in the reverse direction. He continues to be an antagonist while being treated like one, but once others start treating him with kindness (Fang hugging him, Jim and Archie amputating his leg while Frenchie lies for him, the whole crew making him the unicorn leg), he too becomes a part of the family. And wouldn’t you know it—Izzy has a near death scene as well, a suicide no less. Izzy is the one who is responsible in S1 for “bringing back Blackbeard,” so the symbolism of him pulling the trigger on himself is huge. This is Izzy killing his half of Blackbeard! Because Izzy Hands continues to live, even if it takes him some time to remember how to live without Blackbeard at first, and his relationship with Ed effectively dies here.

(As a side note, this growth arc and the way Izzy fully transforms into a member of the Revenge crew afterwards—whittling Lucius a shark and talking to him about forgiveness, dressing up in drag and singing to the crew, cracking silly jokes about Ed and Stede’s relationship—are also why I find the “Izzy Hands is the symbol of traditional piracy and his death is symbolic of traditional piracy dying” argument to be weak. In season 1, he was that definition, but we’ve literally watched him grow out of it. He’s no longer symbolic of something stagnant that will remain the same or be destroyed—he’s symbolic of something that grows and adapts to the new situations, that survives when all of the rules change on him.)

And then we have the return of Blackbeard: Pop-Pop pushing Ed to go back to doing “what he’s good at,” Ed fishing his leathers out of the ocean, Ed killing a ton of people because he thinks Stede is likely dead or at minimum in captivity/grave danger. This bit seems to go against everything the season was building towards; Blackbeard was almost entirely gone, but Ed is now the one who brings him back because he thinks Blackbeard is the one who can save Stede. And that’s fair, but what does that have to do with Izzy at this point? Why does he need to die for Ed to put that part of him away again? While we’re not owed a main character having a death that serves a narrative purpose, I’d hope for that to be the case, and I struggle to interpret what happens to Izzy as beneficial to either plot or character.

3. I think the actual core arcs of the show are character arcs and not plots. I get that they might’ve been trying to wrap plots with Zheng and the British in case they aren’t renewed, but I don’t think it was necessary—the pirating has always been secondary to the rom com and the found family, IMO. In S1, we had two main characters, but I’d argue Izzy got enough focus and attention to be a third this season. Which left us with a great character-driven story: we’re watching all 3 of them come into their own and discover who they are individually, while also discovering that the changes in themselves are causing friction between them now that they’re growing into new people. Which is an amazing story to tell, if you ask me, but the fulfillment of that story requires all three characters to be there. The conflict to be resolved is how these characters can become the people they want to be and still coexist together, because on some level they’re family now. Notably each pair combination of these characters grows together or apart (or in Stede/Ed’s case, both) during this season. Ed and Izzy are growing apart because they hold each other back from becoming the person they want/need to be; to complete this narratively, I would’ve expected the next challenge to be finding a way to become friends again as their new selves while letting go of the fact that they used to have a toxic relationship when they used to be different people.

Ed and Stede’s S2 Ending

So Izzy’s death is the big talking point, but I also think DJ’s take on Ed and Stede was interesting. He said that they deserved a happy ending for the work they put in this season. I agree with him in theory, but I’m curious as to whether others agree that they put in a lot of work. I think Stede followed through with his goal to come back and tell Ed how he feels, and to stay instead of running away from his problems. I think Ed followed through with trying to understand who he is and what his needs are while also trying to find the courage to open himself up to love again. But critically, they never talk. E7 makes a point to highlight the miscommunication/lack of communication between them, and then in E8 they still aren’t shown talking.

(I realize part of the issue is the limited amount of time and the amount of plot shoved into episode 8. I get it; personally, I think the plot should’ve been sacrificed for the characters. At this point, we were 7 episodes into a very character/relationship-heavy season. Plot could’ve waited for a potential S3.)

What’s more—there’s a huge, glaring gap between where they left off and where they end up. Ed left in S2E7 after he begins panicking and realizing Stede is becoming deeper entrenched in pirate life just as he’s finally finding his way out of it. Not once do they talk about this, but suddenly they’re retiring together? And right after Ed says Izzy was his only family and Izzy calls the crew his family (which… is also an unearned line, as Ed and the crew have almost no bonding or forgiveness this season, since we focused mainly on Izzy with the crew and Ed with Stede), they leave the crew to do their own thing? They’re all relatively minor things that could be fairly easily addressed by dialogue, but they fact that they’re not only serves to underscore the way that Ed and Stede really aren’t on the same page.

I want them to get their happy ending. They deserve it. I’m just not sure that I agree that they earned it to the degree that it was received, with retirement alone together without their crew, if that makes sense.

Positivity Tax: Calypso Love 😊

I’ve probably got more to say but those were the big ones on my mind after reading the Vanity Fair and Entertainment Weekly interviews. Just to counterbalance some of the more critical things I’ve said, I wanted to share some loving analysis of the Calypso episode:

1. It’s a minor thing, but the way this episode shows that Ed’s actions as Blackbeard had consequences is amazing. Despite him arguably committing the more grievous wrongs in S1, he’s the one we get the least redemption for in this season (his apology to the crew wasn’t great, and most of his screen time is spent repairing his relationship with Stede), so for him to have to face something that happened because of his past actions is cool, especially because it was done in a way that doesn’t further damage his standing with the crew.

2. The way Stede saves the day is incredible. Competent Stede this season has been an absolute joy to watch, and his success in this episode is twofold: first he wins his way, with signature Gentleman Pirate flair. He listens to Ned’s crew, helps facilitate communication between them, and encourages them to stand up for themselves and demand better treatment. That’s a very classic Stede win. But then he wins in the traditional pirate way, and it’s absolutely glorious; he’s been working towards becoming a better pirate, both in terms of stomaching violence and building up the necessary skills. Ned’s crew can be taken down with kindness, but Ned himself is a pirate and will only be matched by another. I genuinely cannot think of a more perfect way to show that Stede is still himself while also showcasing the newer side of him that he’s been working towards this whole time.

3. Speaking of that newer side of him, the way this episode starts to open up Ed’s insecurities? The combination of seeing his least favorite parts of himself reflected in Stede as well as watching Stede grow into the career that he’s trying to leave? Amazing conflict development.

4. I’ve already talked so much about Izzy but the way this truly caps off the crew’s acceptance of him as part of the family is gorgeous. He’s an entirely new man at this point and there’s no jokes made, no friendly ribbing… just love and acceptance. It highlights both his newfound comfort and familiarity with the others as well as the extent to which they care about him.

5. Less analytical, but it’s also just a really pretty episode.

Considering the fact that I have zero OFMD mutuals and this was a whole essay (I’m on mobile and can’t see how long this is but I’m honestly scared), I would be shocked if someone made it down this far, but if somehow people are here and open to civil discussion… I’d love to know how you felt about this, if you thought DJ was right, if you were a little more on my wavelength and thinking things weren’t adding up, etc. Realistically I’m not sure if anything could change my mind as I’ve done a lot of stewing, particularly about Izzy arc, but new perspectives are always refreshing. Much love to the fandom and of course the creators, who hopefully never see this and get their s3 renewal 🤞🏼

#ofmd spoilers #our flag means death spoilers #our flag means death #sherlgrey.txtea #i am SO going to regret posting this aren’t i #i guess worst case scenario i delete #but I suspect most likely scenario is no one reads this lol

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nozunhinged · 6 months

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7 BL Newbie Moments of 2023 That Altered My Brain Chemistry

So I went through all my posts since the beginning of this journey and as much as I love dumping my insanity here without context or any punctuation, I feel that a lot of my fav moments deserve a bit more love and structure.

But first I need to put a bit of context so you won't be like "who the hell do they think they are" (aside from delusional I'm nothing, I promise) and my anxious overexplainer-heart is silenced.

My first BL TV show was Only Friends and only 5 months later I'm already throat deep into it (sorry). My watchlist is so endless that I sometimes (no, regularly) genuinely fear for my sanity. I'm still learning all the names and production houses but does that stop me from starting 10 other shows? NOPE.

I'm not new to queer fan spaces (avid manga reader since the yaoi days, my first ship was taito from digimon) but I am most definitely new to the brainrot levels these shows gave me.

And believe it or not, even though my shipper heart is over a decade old, I'm new to Tumblr and the fuel this platform added to the fire could burn down entire continents.

ANYWAYS if you're still here — please enjoy Noz's 100% self-indulgent moments!

1. The End And The Beginning - Only Friends

All I did was mindlessly scroll through the tumblr trends, no idea about how this website works, still sour and sad about the loss of my twitter bubble thanks to the elopocalypse—little did I know that fate would lead me to the wonderful world of BL shows! It was like this moment in isekai-esque movies where you get sucked into a world and you go WOOAAH once you arrive.

There was this show—on YouTube—100% unapolagetic about sex, relationships and queerness. Five minutes into the first episode, someone asks if they can bring their boyfriend to a hookup. This was ALL of my wildest dreams come true! Oh boy, was I naive.

I feel like Only Friends had me speedrun the whole BL industry. Branded pairs, production houses, fanservice, obsessive fans & haters, audience reactions influencing the storyline, EVERYTHING happened during Only Friends and I was just like "what the hell is going on here?" It was like the perfect case study for literally everything. Honestly I still don't really understand what's going on.

Unfortunately, this also led to the awful ending I erased from my brain and don't want to get into, I'm just gonna say Boston I will never forgive the writers for what they did to you. I dropped that show like a hot potato, filtered all possible tags and moved on — or so I thought.

I feel like I'm trying to recreate that first excitement when I discovered OF. But 20 shows later, I'm still not there. Does this make me sound like an addict? Yes, and this is why Only Friends EP 1 is my No. 1 moment that altered my brain chemistry.

2. The Boeing Incident - Only Friends

I talked about it just yesterday and I need to do it again because Boeing was the beginning of a thing that thought I'd never be capable of: lusting after real person TV characters. I talked about it in length here and here so the only thing I'm gonna add just for good measure is that I'd do anything, anything for a BostonBeoingNOZ threesome. Holy shit I'm cringing just writing this down but I need to get my point across.

3. Still Looking For That Kiss - Love in The Air

I know this is a general experience at this point but the chemistry between the couples in Love In The Air opened a whole knew world for me. I thought I knew chemistry but when I saw them, I realized I knew NOTHING.

It may sound weird but I'm still looking for that perfect kiss that's hitting all the right neurons in my brain. I have a hunch that one of these two pairs will deliver them one day, but until then I NEED to watch a million kisses for research.

This post by @talistheintrovert explains perfectly what I think about kissing in shows. Ji Chang Wook is still the blueprint for me.

But do I have a favorite BL kiss so far? Yes, yes I do. It's this ShinPeach beauty.

4. Main Lead Syndrome - Kiseki: Dear To Me

I am a second lead, side couple enby before I am human but I will defend these two until the end of time. My TL is flooded with Chen Yi, Ai Di, Nat and Louis while these two are over here falling in love over strawberry cake, cat analogies, failed cooking and all sorts of memory loss. Zongyi opened a fucking bakery for his babygirl and Zerui pretended to be a pretty dumdum to protect the love of his life.

I don't care how much you all love the two dumb (affectionately) gangsters, these two deserve the world, end of story. Also Kai Hsu and Taro Lin are bff's irl now, Taro said that Kai helped him get out of a very bad mental tate and I take that very personally.

5. The Fanservice is Fanservicing - Kiseki: Dear To Me

Speaking of Taro and Kai, the fact that I even know that they're bff's is another brainaltering moment that needs recognition because months later it led me to this TikTok of two actors I don't know of a show I don't watch, staring at them for ages and really considering watching it just because of it.

That is the power of fanservice my friends and I can put on my clownmask now because I avidly screamed left and right that fanservice should be forbidden when I learned about it. I blame Kiseki for that. But my point still stands, I hate actors doing stuff they're uncomfortable with. I just hope they're all friends and have fun and get that coin.

6. The One Just For Me - Playboyy

I've been lurking around Playboyy from the moment I found out they have the same writer as OF. And boy did it deliver so far! I already wrote a bunch here about which role Playboyy plays for me, but it's also a wonderful case study for my producer heart — watching the acting, directing, lighting, sets, props and storyline interact is fascinating.

People say the less you notice the better the show, which is correct, but I love all the flaws of this piece of media. IMHO it's the last puzzlepiece of the amazing, important social commentary the show delivers. All of the topics the couples represent need to get their very own show.

7. The Holy Grail - The Sign

Speaking of the less you notice — this is the sign for The Sign (again, sorry). There's a reason this show is loved and praised so widely because the production is on a whole other level. Adding the beautiful story on top of that, we have the potential for a holy grail here and I'm so in for the ride.

I keep saying I've entered the world of BL in it's absolute golden era. Never in a million years did I think I'd watch 5 shows simultaneosly but I love every single one of them so much I keep a whole spreadsheet on how I can be on time for every premiere every week alongside my work schedule.

Honorable mentions

KinnPorsche: VegasPete were my first dark, angsty, morally questionable couple ever (I'm a sissy okay)

Last Twilight: When I watched Extraordinary Attorney Woo, I cried several times about the wonderful media representation of disability. It means so much to me and Last Twilight is on par with that.

Bake Me Please: Thank you for giving me this beautiful kiss

Manner of Death: Thank you MaxTul for making gay makeouts fashionable

Bad Buddy: The one time I was glad I persisted so I could watch them most adorable phone scene on the planet

I Feel You Linger In The Air: It was too painful for me to finish but I loved the show with my whole heart and it deserves all the awards it got.

Kimi ni Todokanai: Japanese shows just hit different. I'll never get over the kissing Taiyaki.

The Novelist Series: THIS is how you kiss the one you're horny for my friends. Take notes directors.

Semantic Error: My fav webtoon -> Got Viki for the Series -> Found the BL corner of Viki -> Drew my attention to Tumblr -> This post.

Thank you for being the butterfly of my butterfly effect.

And thank YOU if you read until here! To a even more wonderful queer year 2024! I'm so ready for this ride.

#only friends the series #only friends #kiseki: dear to me #love in the air #love in the air the series #playboyy #playboyy the series #the sign #the sign the series #thai bl #japanese bl

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