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#space death game au

kairamuwu · 9 months

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:3c it's tangotek but space!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He's just a lil guy and nothing is gonna go wrong for him ever!! :) he's just enjoying travelling through space and getting a bf

Grian design

Scar design

Jimmy design

Joel design

Scott design

Etho design

#my art #stareater au #tangotek #tango fanart #character design #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanart #traffic smp #space death game au #tangotek fanart #mcyt

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pomellon · 9 months

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-Vibrates- Yes YES this Dead Space au is good shit! We bein fed! Way later when all six are surviving together and split up, we get some Drunz? Dream venting about he's ready to just eradicate all Unitologists and Punz, having just been involved in this for like a few hours, already on board with it. Like 'Mhm yeah fuck those guys, let's take em out.' Lol. Dream's been dealing with this the longest he deserves a small murder spree. As a treat.

Dream absolutely deserves to go a lil ape shit, and he will def get the chance uwu (I think he would avoid killing humans tho because that’s just gonna aid the necromorph outbreaks, but there are people in Unitology uniforms that have turned necro and he will def feel a lil bit more satisfaction stomping on those >u>)

Punz definitely has some feelings about Unitology too. He’s not too involved with it but Foolish is! He’s a Unitologist but more due to the fact that his family are part of the church rather than believing in most of the teaching himself. He does like the message of unity, and an afterlife and rebirth don’t sound too bad. That is until Foolish is used by the church to help trigger the Sprawl outbreak and realize what “rebirth” actually means, and Punz doesn't take too kindly to his best friend (maybe-sort-of-kind-of-boyfriend) being used like that either.

There will definitely be some Drunz tho! All six of them will end up with bonding time but I am still planning out when and where. Some of them might have to get to know each other when they’re off the Sprawl and on the run/in hiding, and I think Drunz will be one of these pairs. I can see the two of them really growing closer talking about the Markers and eventually start plotting to track potential others down to destroy them. The perfect dates uvu

For now I know I want Karlnap to happen in this second part, due to them bonding over both being easily influenced by the Marker and maybe even sharing delusions. Idk if I would call it Kunz right away but I do want Karl and Punz to be partnered up long enough for Karl to stab one of Punz’s eyes out (he was trying to help okay, the evil alien rock is telling him things!), and that’s sure hell of a way to start a relationship.

I am also tempted to have Punznap partner up for the Tormentor scene (this is a two min clip from the second game, so do keep in mind it’s a horror/action scene with some blood and gore, and it’s a bit hectic) because it’s like my fave sequence of the game and I like to think that both them hate being out in space! So this would be a nice traumatic moment for them to bond over (including everything else that happened in those two minutes like jfc) :D It would however make more sense to have Foolish with either Dream, Sapnap, or Karl in this scene since it’s in the Unitology part of the game, so I’ll see!

I’ll probably end up writing a proper timeline for both the Ishimura and the Sprawl parts of this au, since they pretty much just follow the in-game events with some tweaks. The third part when they’re all on the run will be for more of the actual shippy stuff and everyone working through their trauma and getting together <3

#pom talks #dead space au #horror #drunz #funz #the third part is when I just start having fun and ignore canon #cuz I would love to include game three but it was so inconsistent with the previous games that I will probably leave it for now #like the lore was so good still and it was getting really interesting but the rest of the game was just ugh??#And the ending also kind of hinted at death to all of humanity #which is how I see the series ending since game 4 never came out #thanks EA for ruining a great game series >:c #There's hope with the remake but yeah #a 4th title will not be out soon so I will leave this au off of canon after game 2 #thanks for the ask! 💖#anon

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hypewinter · 2 months

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3 HC/AU Prompt Game (3)

1). Baby Ancient Danny!

2). Liminal Batman

3). Ghost Adoption Instincts

Due to his overwhelming affinity and power, Danny becomes the ancient of space. Ordinarily, this would be a momentous occasion that would call for a lot of fan fair and celebration. After all, a new ancient being born is a really big deal. Doesn't happen too often. And when it does, everyone feels it. From the most powerful of ghosts to even the slightest of liminals. If you're even a smidgen touched by death, you're gonna realize something powerful has just awakened.

But there is no celebration this time. Why? You see, not for the first time, Danny's halfa status throws a little wrench in things. When one becomes an ancient, everything gets reset for them. It's basically like a new birth. You get a new form, new core, new haunt (etc) but you still retain key aspects of your old self. Like the general age appearance and memories. But this doesn't happen with Danny. Whatever power is involved with turning a ghost into an ancient can't really get a feel on Danny considering he's not a full ghost. So when this "new birth" happens for Danny, well he gets new everything. He's basically a new ghost. A new baby ghost. A new baby ghost with dominion over space. Yeah things are about to get fun.

It doesn't take very long for Clockwork to lose sight of his new godling ward. And by lose sight, I mean lose sight. No matter how many timelines he flips through. He. Can't. Find. Him. Why can't he find him? Where did he go?? Why is this happening!? Ahhhhhhh!!

Meanwhile, Danny is vibing as he stares up at the Wayne family. The Wayne family of the DC universe. The universe famous for its convoluted and twisted timeline. The universe that's gonna take CW a while to work through (good luck buddy).

Now remember how I said that all liminals recognize when a new ancient is born? Well that's not the only ghost sense they have. You see there are two reactions to the baby currently sitting on the table depending on when someone died or at least had a brush with death compared to Danny's death. The first is, "Very powerful. Must respect. Must garner favor. Must not show weakness." This sentiment is held by all those who had their tastes of death after Danny. This includes Damian, Cass, and Tim. Then there's the other side. The ones who tasted death prior to Danny. When they look at this baby the reaction is, "Baby? Why baby alone? Must protect baby. Must take baby under my wing and keep it safe until baby can be on its own." This feeling is strong with Jason, Bruce and even Dick. There's only one problem. There is one baby but three dad candidates. Let the adoption wars begin!

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #winter answers #thanks for the ask!#poor clockwork #once he finally manages to track down danny #he's going to be thrown head first into a ghost adoption battle #i almost feel bad for him #almost #but unfortunately for him the shenanigans potential trumps my sympathy for him

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lisired · 1 month

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waiting game

pairing: best friend’s dad!johnny x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, dilf au, age gap, unprotected sex (dont b silly wrap yo mf willy!), orgasm denial, edging, half the fic is just johnny & mc teasing each other to death, oral (f receiving), fingering around people

summary: Your best friend’s dad is a smoking hot dilf seeking vengeance after you’ve spent the past couple of years teasing him, but it seems that you can’t handle a taste of your own medicine.

word count: 9.1k

a/n: ¼ of the Temptation series. feedback is appreciated!

Time was something ironic to you. It flew by quickly when you were having fun, yet seemed to drag on when the moments were dull. If you had to give a prime example, it would be now.

This current moment, with you listening impatiently to the vexing sound of your clock ticking while counting down the minutes before you got to see Johnny again. You had a study date with your best friend - his daughter - in over half an hour, and you were beginning to wish that you hadn’t planned your outfit so far in advance. Now you had nothing to distract you from your throbbing heartbeat in the meantime.

To say the least, every moment with Johnny was nothing short of thrilling, no matter how brief. He had the power to summon a swarm of butterflies in your stomach with a mere smile - unbeknownst to him, of course. As far as you knew, Johnny knew nothing of your silly little crush on him and you wanted to keep it that way. It was fun to imagine what it would be like if he reciprocated your crush, but that’s precisely all it was—your imagination. Hypothetical situations you could only fantasize about. You had to give yourself the tough reminder that he’d never be into his daughter’s best friend. He could never.

Still, you liked Johnny. He was friendly and though he told his dad jokes, he was funny. He was confident. He knew how to cook and he was smart, and you liked that he always knew how to direct conversation. You and Johnny talked sometimes, usually whenever you stayed for dinner, or breakfast. He had never let you feel invisible, or like you were invading a space that wasn’t yours. He welcomed you.

But of course, he was also smoking hot. Smoldering, even. You recalled the first time you laid eyes on him, when you were visiting your best friend and he was in the front yard, mowing the grass. Sweats and a tanktop. Hair stuck to his forehead like a second layer. Drenched in sweat as he battled the summertime heat. Sometimes you still wondered if he caught you gawking, whether it was when you first saw him looking like that or when he told you that he was your best friend’s father and not her brother.

(You were even more surprised to hear that he was in his forties. He could have passed for late-twenties, and you almost scanned his head for a sight of a single grey hair but decided that would have been rude).

Yet as attractive as he was in every sense of the word, there came again the rough reminder that he was equally out-of-bounds. It always slammed roughly against you whenever you daydreamed about him, forcing you to remember that there was a boundary between you both. You could not have Johnny. And even if he were to want you, he couldn’t have you, either. God forbid you thought about how unrequited this was.

None of that ever stopped you from liking him, though. In your heart, there was still an ounce of hope that maybe something could blossom between you, weeding its way through the cracks of the invisible boundary.

What were those cracks? Easy: temptation.

Like any other day, Johnny looked absolutely mouthwatering. He wore a satin shirt and dark jeans, brown hair parted and his skin gleaming beneath the kitchen light. You desperately wanted to make your move right then, but your best friend crashing into your arms forced you to remember why you couldn’t.

“Gosh, I missed you,” Jessica cheered as she wrapped her arms around you firmly.

“It hasn’t even been three days since you last saw me,” you replied amusedly, nonetheless hugging her back. Jessica wasn’t your best friend for no reason. She was closer to you than anyone else, even your own parents. She knew everything there was to know about you. You knew that you could tell her anything, but this was different. You’d rather take this one to the grave.

She rolled her eyes as she loosened her embrace and let you go, “Whatever. Three days, three weeks, it all feels the same,” she said dramatically, making you both snicker. “But for real, my dad was like, just making dinner. Wanna join us?”

It had smelled delicious all the way from the front door. But that was Johnny for you, with cooking being one of his favorite habits. You would feel bad about eating their food though, so you leaned towards declining.

As if he could hear your reply before you said it, Johnny chimed in from the kitchen, “I made your favorite.”

That shut you up before you could reply. Your mouth hang open then closed, and after a moment of self-debate you opened it again. “Shit, pass me a plate,” you’d have to be running a fever or replaced by a shape-shifting alien to turn down Johnny’s chicken Alfredo.

You rested your backpack for now, ignoring their laughter as you strolled inside the kitchen.

By the time dinner ended, Jessica had to unexpectedly leave, mentioning something about a work emergency that you failed to completely catch. You didn’t mind too much, of course. It gave you the perfect excuse to stay in company of Johnny, and you even offered to help him wash the dishes as a thank you for dinner.

“Thank you for helping me with the dishes. You didn’t have to,” Johnny said, stretching his arm to put one final dish away in the cabinet. His sleeves were rolled up so you eyed his biceps like they were the meal, but forced yourself to look away before he could notice.

“Don’t mention it. It’s the least I could do after you made such a wonderful meal, sir,” you replied respectfully. In the same breath, it took everything in you not to let your eyes trail down his body. His shirt was unbuttoned, leaving all the good stuff out in the open.

“Don’t flatter me,” Johnny joked. “Do you know how to cook?”

You couldn’t stop your laughter. “Of course not. I’m a safety hazard in the kitchen.”

Johnny snorted, “Why do you say that?”

“Sir, my expertise extends to instant noodles - hardly even that. One time, I burnt them and nearly killed my microwave.”

Johnny’s eyes crinkled. He knew now to keep you at least six feet away from his microwave, maybe even forbid you from touching his stove or oven. He also thought about giving you lessons. “How in god’s name did you do that?”

“I forgot to put water in them!” You explained, tone laced with shame. “Even if I did know how to cook, my skills are no where near yours. You’re like, the cooking connoisseur. I can’t imagine you forgetting to do something as simple as putting water in noodles.”

“It was an honest mistake,” he replied sympathetically. “But I like hearing about it. Tell me more about your failed cooking escapades.”

“God, where do I even begin? Let me tell you how I got banned from contributing to Thanksgiving dinner,” you said, and went on to explain the whole ordeal.

The way Johnny was snickering at you, it was almost like your conversation had the Victorious laugh track - except his giggles were genuine and the frequency of them didn’t irritate you. He had a beautiful laugh, one that made you simper. It went without saying that Johnny found you entertaining. He knew that he could never drink anything as long as he was around you, in fear that you’d have him spitting out his drink at every funny comment you made.

Johnny also let his eyes linger on your frame. Never had he ever seen anyone make skinny jeans look as stunning as you did, and it helped that your body was highlighted. You could feel his gaze burning into you, but chalked it up to your imagination running wild again. There was no way in hell Johnny Suh was checking you out.

Little did you know, that was exactly what Johnny was as doing. He so desperately wanted to fuck you then and there, but resisted. The opportunity would surface some other day, and to be honest he wanted to see where things would go. You weren’t half as subtle as you thought you were but he was going to play dumb until you quit these little games of your own.

“I’m an excellent cleaner, though,” you added once you concluded your story. Your lips curled into a smirk for the most brief moment, yet Johnny still caught it.

He also didn’t fail to catch the flirtatious undertone. “Yeah? Is that how you secured an extra slice of peach Cobbler versus all your hungry cousins?”

“And siblings. And uncles. And don’t forget my aunt’s seventh husband. But yeah, you get it. Favoritism also goes a long way.”

Johnny was amused, to say the least. He was still stuck on the fact that you had practically just offered yourself as a housewife to him, although it wasn’t necessary. He could think of plenty other ways to use you, other ways that you could put in work for him. It was tempting, but he was more determined to make you wait. He wanted to bottle you up until you exploded, and only then would he bother to clean up your mess.

The sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway ended your conversation abruptly. He seemed quick to wrap things up once he heard the car door lock. “That’s Jess. Thank you, again, for your help. You two are probably about to study now so have fun, and make sure to tell her I’ll be working in my study!”

So typical of Johnny to drown himself in work. A workaholic if you knew one. You were disappointed by the conversation coming to an end, then aroused by a thought in even less time. You knew that he had to be exhausted and could only think about letting him take his stress out on you, bending you over his desk and fucking you with his entire being.

Shaking the thoughts away, you replied, “I will.” Inevitably would you revisit them (or they would revisit you, rather), but for now you had to focus about studying with your best friend.

You weren’t slick at all, and Johnny wondered if you knew that.

In the following week, you had been coming over more often. That in itself wasn’t suspicious, but he noticed that your clothes became shorter by the day. Nothing completely out of line, yet he couldn’t help but catch how the inches decreased day after the next. He noticed that you became less shameless in flirting with him. At one point he thought that the only way you could be any more obvious was if you confessed the truth, but then you started lying to him. You made up silly excuses as to why you showed up when Jessica wasn’t there, and he had a different plan.

As always, excitement flowed through your veins when you walked through his door. You were always eager to see him, and even more thrilled to show off today’s outfit - one of your favorite skirts paired with a cute top. To be honest, you didn’t know why you were doing this when you had nothing but your intuition to support you, but something told you to dress nicely today.

It was no shocker that Johnny did too. His sleeves were rolled up yet again, muscles peeking through the fabric, and you could only wonder if you’d ever have the luxury of seeing him completely shirtless. Jessica had mentioned earlier inviting you and another friend to chill in the pool this Saturday, but that didn’t mean her dad would be involved. You could only hope, though you were pulled away from the thought when you heard him call your name.

Cluelessly you blinked, asking dumbly, “Did you say something?”

The presence of a smirk was on Johnny’s face for a sliver of a second. You had caught it, and felt your cheeks warm at the thought that you had been caught staring - much worse spacing out - at him.

He repeated, “I said, what’s it today?” And you flushed some more. You obviously knew that you had been over more recently, that was the entire point. But something about him acknowledging it was thrilling yet frightening.

“You say that like I come over every day.”

“It sure feels like it. You might as well keep a key and put some of your things in the spare room,” Johnny retorted. Your heart sank a little at the thought that maybe you really were overdoing it, and sensing a drop in your mood, he added, “Hey, I’m just messing with you. How may I help you today, princess?”

Princess. He had no clue, you could be such a sucker for pet names. You didn’t even know if it was the pet name itself that had your knees wobbly or how it sounded rollling off his tongue, but you didn’t care. You were losing your mind and hardly covering it up.

You cleared your throat. “I left my notebook here, and I just wanted to pick it up.”

Johnny furrowed his eyebrows. “Jessica said that she dropped it off at your place this morning.”

Well, that backfired. It was true that you had left your notebook, and intentionally, but it wasn’t apart of the plan for Jessica to bring it back to you. Now you could only play dumb and pretend that you hadn’t known about it.

“Oh, um,” you were caught, and damn Johnny’s suffocating gaze for not helping at all. You felt like wilting beneath him while he stared at you like that - cynical and inscrutable.

Instead of giving you time to form a reply, Johnny only walked forward, and you had no where to run but backwards, until your rear hit the wall and you were grounded in place. “You wanna know what I think?” He crooned, hardly containing a laugh at how bewildered you looked. “I think that you haven’t been forgetting anything this whole time. I think that you wore this pretty little skirt, all for me.”

You gasped when his hand landed against your skin, raking up your thigh and underneath your skirt. In that moment, you were thankful that you had worn it. Johnny had complete access to your body, and you liked it. You liked how his gaze rooted you in place, still as though he would have somehow punished you for making any sudden movements. It was clear that you could have moved if you wanted, but even clearer that you liked the feeling of power he had over you. You wanted him to control you, to maybe push him to any surrounding limit to see just how commanding he could be.

“I think that you just want my attention, baby girl. Is that right?” He asked, as though he wasn’t feeling the answer. With his fingers circling your panties, you knew he was only asking for any other reason than confirmation.

You whimpered, “Sir, please.”

“Please, what?” Johnny questioned, playing clueless. He knew what you wanted. He had definitely known much longer than expected, you realized. All those times where you were so obviously flirting with him, he was choosing to play dumb and ignore your antics.

“Please touch me,” you begged.

Johnny smiled softly - condescendingly - but he still wore that fake confused expression on his face, “I am touching you though, aren’t I?”

Fuck, were you already getting tired of this. He knew damn well what you meant by touching you, and this wasn’t it. You wanted more. You wouldn’t care if he manhandled you right now, you just were in desperate need of his contact so then, and only then, would you be satisfied.

You could sound no more desperate as you whined, “Sir, please, I need more.”

He only laughed - dead in your face. “I don’t think that you deserve it.”

“I’ll do anything,” you knew that you sounded pathetic, but you had been waiting far too damn long for him to be teasing you like this. You couldn’t think of one reason why you wouldn’t deserve it, but there was already a mental list brewing of things you were ready to do to convince him. If a blowjob was what it would take, you’d be on your knees in an instant.

The offer tempted Johnny and he would be lying if he said that it hadn’t. But you had been teasing him for years now, and he wanted you to know how it felt when the tables were turned. If you were going to play games with him, then he was determined to beat you, to push you to every edge until you caved in to defeat. Johnny wanted you on your knees begging, and he was determined to have that. What better way to play than to give you nothing at all?

He liked the premise of you can look, but you can’t touch. There was no better way that he could punish you than by giving you a taste of your own medicine. Restraining himself was much more difficult than he had let on, but he knew you had half his patience at most. With the tricks he had up his sleeve, he’d have you caught inside his net in no time.

He tilted his head. “You want this?”

“Need it,” you replied without missing a beat.

Just as quickly, Johnny pulled his hand away from underneath your skirt, and therefore followed the little relief he had permitted you. An instant whimper fell from your lips, but it was clear as day that he didn’t care. His laugh mocked you, teased you, and you couldn’t fathom why he was playing with you like this. You wanted to ask him why he was toying with you, but he would beat you to any words.

“That’s too bad,” he replied, nonchalantly. “I want you to wait for it.”

You whined, “Haven’t I waited long enough?”

You didn’t realize how close he was to you until then. Nevermind how his eyes pierced holes through your skin and made you swallow hard, instantly making you regret saying anything. How you could feel the warmth of his body radiating onto you without him touching you - even if he practically was. How he towered over you and made you feel so much smaller in comparison to him, how he made you feel frozen in place with nothing but a mere glance. It was power. It was prominent in his eyes, whispering, You’ll do anything for me. You couldn’t tell if it was a simple statement or a demand, but it was true.

“Don’t you think that I’ve waited long enough?” His eyes were cold. You wanted to move backwards, but there was no escape. You were trapped beneath his gaze with no where to run. “Don’t be so selfish. You’ve been playing your little games with me for the past couple of years. Don’t you think it’s my turn now?”

It was then that you realized what this was. It was revenge - sweet to him, yet so bitter to you. Karma really was a bitch.

You heard a car pulling into the driveway, and Johnny finally stepped away from you. “See you later,” a day, two days, a week - whatever amount of time defined the wait of later, it was too much. Call it greed. Call it selfish. But you just couldn’t wait. You wanted him. You needed him. Your body was yearning for touch, but you could feel nothing but cool air.

You needed Johnny now, and yet he refused to give himself to you.

It was finally Saturday, and you were nothing less than thrilled. The days in between now and the last time you’d seen Johnny felt closer to weeks and now that you had an excuse, you were going to be downright insufferable. As if you weren’t going to be insufferable either way. With the way things turned out during your encounter with him, you realized than instead of wallowing in defeat, you needed to play back harder. That meant leveling-up and making it known that you weren’t going down without a fight.

As you hoped, Johnny was also in the backyard. Jess had invited you and her crush Mark over for a pool day, and Johnny insisted on grilling for the three of you. You were ninety-nine percent convinced that you were half the reason, with him simply wanting to get at you - and that he did. He looked more mesmerizing than he usually did, sweat making his skin gleam, and it took you back to the first time that you’d seen him.

You shoved the memory into a dark corner in the back of your brain. Determination filled you to the brim, and you had just the trick up your sleeve to make Johnny lose his mind.

“Ready for the pool?” Jessica asked as you both stepped out onto the patio.

It was difficult to hide your smirk as you replied, “Born ready.” You had been planning this moment out for days, and you refused to let reality not match your expectations.

She rushed to get inside the pool with Mark, but you took your sweet time, waiting for the moment when you could feel Johnny’s eyes on you to drop the towel. It revealed a bright red bikini, and the look on his face when you glanced up to capture his reaction was worth a million bucks. He was looking at you like he wanted you, and that alone was enough to satisfy you.

Don’t burn the food, you mouthed cockily, just before sending him a week and diving into the pool with your two friends.

The rest of the afternoon consisted of mutual stares that lingered far too long, and by the time the day began to fade dull you had been in and out of the pool and Johnny had gone inside. With Mark and Jessica being equally sprung for each other it was easy for your third-wheeling adventure to begin, and you were yearning for more excitement, running out of battery from earlier’s thrilll.

Some time later, you all agreed to end the night here and Mark and Jessica decided to go on a walk before he went home. It being implied that you were going home, you all bid your good farewells to each other and headed out of the pool.

But when they left, there was Johnny standing on the patio, eyeing you as you stood by the edge of the pool. “Heading out?”

“I was,” you replied, but if he intended on staying out here then maybe you’d charge your mind.

“So not anymore,” Johnny smirked as he put the pieces together. “Let me join you.”

You shrugged, as a sign of not caring what he chose to do, in spite of the fact that your heart was racing. You sank back into the water, preferred it over the feeling of freezing air prickling your skin. Johnny’s eyes never left yours as he made move for the pool, but yours left his the moment he tugged his shirt above his head.

Of fucking course, he was ripped.

Feigning nonchalance was becoming difficult - your mouth watered and you could hardly stop your eyes from popping out of their sockets. To make matters worse, he looked even better in the water with his skin golden, water gleaming in the moonlight. The cocky look on his face proved he knew it all too well, and you were struggling now more than ever to restrain yourself.

“Bet you thought you were slick for what you pulled this afternoon.”

You smirked at the memory. Of course, you didn’t. The whole point was to provoke him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about,” Johnny groaned. It sounded hotter than it should’ve, and now you were ready to clip the conversation and cut to the action. “You walking around trying to provoke me.”

You retaliated, “I wouldn’t have to if you would just fuck me.”

It was clearly the wrong answer, you concluded from the way his eyes seemed to darken. He’d put you in your place right then and there if that wasn’t exactly what you wanted. But it was, and Johnny knew that in spite of your front you were crumbling. It wouldn’t be very long before he had you bowing down at his feet.

He seemed calm, though the look in his eye was anything but. “I told you, you don’t deserve it,” Johnny replied patiently. You were a pain in the ass, but he still enjoyed making you wait. It was so obviously driving you crazy, and the day what little patience you had remaining dissipated, he was going to have so much fun with you.

“How can I earn it?” You asked meekly. It was slowly coming to you that Johnny had a resolve of steel, and it would take more than flaunty outfits to get under his skin. You didn’t know what to do and it was making you want to yank your hair.

“Behave,” he said, like you were a toddler. “And maybe I’ll consider it sooner.”

He was climbing out of the pool before you could even think of a response, and even when you called out his name he never turned around. You wondered what he was getting out of this. You knew that all your teasing played a major role, but it seemed to have the opposite effect of what was intended. Instead of wrapping him around your finger, Johnny walked further away from your spell. A part of you kind of liked it. Another part of you wasn’t sure how to adapt. Most boys came to you in a flock at the sight of skin, a little flirting here and there and they were your pawns. But Johnny was so much more complicated, and for once the instructions were unclear to you. You winded up frustrating yourself further instead in your attempts to frustrate him.

He was a puzzle with a million pieces and you couldn’t figure out how to put him together. A stranger you weren’t to challenges, but he was the toughest competition you’d face and the worst part was that he seemed to have you all figured out.

You always used to think that people were exaggerating when they expressed their desire for someone else. No feeling could ever be so strong as to tear someone apart that way. Yet now that you were in a position where something so close to you felt so far away, you finally understood. You finally knew what it meant to yearn for someone, and it was killing you slowly.

You craved Johnny. It didn’t matter if you were in the same room because he’d pretend as though everything was normal between you and you couldn’t fathom how he could ignore the tension so easily. Especially when it was all you could feel whenever you were in the same space together.

Next Friday was when things began to stir up. Jessica had invited you and Mark over for dinner and considering their obvious crush on each other, they sat beside each other. That left one seat remaining - the one across Mark, directly beside Johnny.

That’s how you landed yourself in this predicament. Johnny’s long fingers plunging in and out of you from underneath the table. It started with his hand simply resting on your thigh but then he started rubbing circular patterns, until he inched between them and underneath your skirt. You were fighting back noises and expressions, yet in contrast he joined in enthusiastically on the conversation like there was nothing happening beneath the table.

“Johnny, they’re right there,” you whimpered when no one was watching. You were thankful that Mark and Jessica were so invested in one another, it decreased your chances of getting caught sneaking around with Johnny since they hardly paid full attention.

“Guess that means you’ll have to be quiet then,” he whispered without a care in the world. “Can you do that for me, baby?”

You could only give a casual, slight nod. If you spoke, you were at risk of letting out moans and that was the last thing you wanted.

Johnny purred, “Good girl.”

Fuck, that was hot. If it weren’t for your two friends sitting at the table with you, you would have moaned right then. All the titles and names Johnny called you made your skin feel hot and made your desire for him multiply. It felt like a test on your patience and you were failing.

In his attempt to act as though nothing was wrong, Johnny asked to no one in particular, “Any plans for the weekend?”

Jessica didn’t miss a beat. She announced excitedly, “Mark and I are going bowling. He sucks and wants me to teach him.”

“I do not suck!” Mark instantly protested. “I got a strike once!”

“Once, as in one time,” Jessica giggled.

Any other time, you would have leaped at any opportunity to tease Mark, but you couldn’t even focus on the rest of the conversation. Johnny’s fingers felt too good inside you, reaching impossible places with precise angles. You couldn’t lie, he did a magnificent job at pretending he was completely engaged in whatever conversation, but you could tell he had shifted most of his attention to you. Even without looking at you directly, it was almost like he could see your reaction and Johnny was determined to steer you right off of the edge.

Whenever a moan approached you, you bit your lip, hard. Or shoved a forkful of spaghetti into your mouth. Whatever you could do to prevent yourself from moaning. The brief glimpse of a smirk you saw on Johnny’s lips confirmed that he was enjoying this, but you couldn’t be mad. You were enjoying it too - especially considering this was probably the most you would get from him for a while, you could only be satisfied.

You were only snapped out of this trance when you heard your name called, snapping your head up in the direction of Johnny.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Huh?” Oh how familiar this situation had felt.

“I said, do you have any plans for the weekend?” Johnny reiterated, looking at you so normally that even you started to believe he wasn’t fingering you right now.

Oh, did you. If Johnny insisted on not fucking you any time soon, then you were going to have a good ole time with your pal, your vibrator. You couldn’t exactly say that though, and even if you could you wouldn’t dare speak more than three words at once. Not when you were so close. So you opted for simply shaking your head.

“Perfect. With Jessica gone I’ll need someone to help me repaint the walls,” Johnny joked, yet you could see right through what he was saying.

Jessica grumbled, “Dad, no. I told you I’ll help you when I get back.”

You forced your voice up as front as you could, “I don’t mind. It’s not like I’m doing anything anyways and,” you fought the sound back into your throat before you continued, “-and it’s the least I could do after leeching off you guys.”

“You’re not a leech,” your best friend reassured. “But if you really want to help him then suit yourself.”

If only she knew you couldn’t care less about the walls, not when you were focused on a completely different type. You wanted Johnny to paint your walls, simple as that.

Conversation didn’t die, but neither did the feeling between your thighs. They were trembling as you approached your orgasm, and you could feel it creeping up on you. You were about to duck your head to hide the pleasured expressions on your face until you couldn’t feel it anymore.

You nearly whimpered, staring at Johnny with only shock. It wasn’t really surprising considering everything that had happened since that day, but you were disappointed. Johnny kept dropping you off before you got to your destination, and you were sick of his teasing and being unable to do anything about it.

“Sorry, princess,” Johnny murmured, but he didn’t look the part even slightly, with a grin playing on his lips. “I’ll make it all up to you tomorrow.”

You guessed you could wait one more day.

730 days.

365 days.

2 weeks.

The countdown was done. The stalling and wait was over. The amount of days you had been waiting for this one specifically you had no clue, but none of that would matter to you anymore once you finally tested on your tongue the sweet taste of victory. You were ready.

You could feel nothing but nerves and exhilaration, but you liked it. You liked how you weren’t sure if you were breathing when you rang the doorbell, but you knew that you weren’t the moment Johnny opened the door. If you had a quarter for every time Johnny had left you breathless, you’d be rich. You couldn’t fathom how a man could look so attractive, and it wasn’t like he always put extra effort into it like you sometimes did. It was something raw.

Johnny smiled when he saw you. “You made it.”

“Of course,” you replied. You sounded relaxed, although you were anything but calm. The mere thought of the events bound to happen in the following moments had you overjoyed.

Johnny let you inside and shut the door. You didn’t get far down the hall before he pinned you back against the wall, the way he did the last time you had been in this scenario. But you knew the outcome would be different this time.

His stare was still hard and deep, but his grin never left. “Ready to paint some walls?”

Damn the walls. You weren’t even remotely concerned about anything that wasn’t on Johnny or in between your legs.

You held his gaze and smiled back as you joked, “Isn’t that your job?”

“I see you brought your jokes with you,” Johnny observed. Then his hand scooted underneath your skirt and squished your thigh. “And another pretty skirt.”

Melting into the warmth of his touch was your only option. You were so starved that you weren’t sure if the smallest touch was enough to get your gears in motion, or if your greed for more was insatiable and it would never be enough. Though it was certain that you wanted him, and concluding from the way Johnny was eyeing you like you were his prey, the feeling was mutual.

His hand crawled closer in between your thighs and the whole time you felt as though you were holding your breath. Johnny had a way of effortlessly making you defocus on anything that wasn’t your desire for him. You weren’t concerned about what was right or what was wrong. You weren’t concerned about the consequences. All you cared about was feeling his skin on yours and meeting him inside of the sheets.

“Just for you,” you murmured, somewhere on the verge of breathless. Johnny knew you weren’t lying or saying things just to make the moment. With your history, it was easy to believe you had picked it out especially for his taste.

The skirt was a personal favorite of Johnny’s. He had never stated it outright, but the way his eyes were constantly on you was more than enough confirmation. Of course you would use your speculations to your advantage - the moment had been dragged out enough and by now it was established that you were beyond impatient.

“Yeah?” He cocked his head. “Wanna show me what’s underneath?”

More than anything. You wanted to lift up your skirt right then and there. Instead, you opted for nodding your head, unable to come up with any words let alone a sentence.

Johnny took no time to toss you up in his arms. He carried you into his bedroom and launched you onto his sheets, eyeing you with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “I’m gonna have so much fun with you, princess,” he cooed.

For once, you had no smart reply - you just let him move on his own accord. You could feel the tension in the room soaring as he crawled above your body, silent and sly as he slithered between your thighs. Johnny could feel his mouth water as he pushed your skirt up, finally getting a full view of what was underneath. Your panties - pretty, lace, and blue (and drenched.)

He pushed them to the side. “Did you wear these for me, too?”

He honestly didn’t even have to ask. The two of you had been down this road before and it was simply a given that you dressed to impress him particularly. Keeping in mind his favorite color plus how much he fancied your wardrobe on you came naturally when you were this desperate.

You nodded again, then asked, “Do you like them?”

“Love them, baby. You look so pretty in blue,” Johnny murmured. His distracted fingers teased your folds and made your breath hitch. You were already wet, but his touch had you melting into a puddle on the mattress. “You ready?”

There was no hesitance in your voice as you whined, “God, yes.” The moment had already been dragged on too long and though you understood that Johnny would probably want to take his time with you, you needed things to pick up the pace, even if just a little.

“Good, because I wanna taste you.”

Johnny pushed your legs out a little more to give himself the room to roam between them. Then he started with pecks to your inner thigh, gentle and sweet and arousing. As if you weren’t aroused enough already. He admired the way your folds glistened with wetness - he knew that you most likely assumed he was taking his time out of being hell bent on teasing the life out of you, but that was only half of the truth. You were just so pretty that he wanted to savor the moment forever.

His tongue teased back and forth over your slit, almost tentatively as though he was only taste-testing you. When you needily bucked up your hips with a whimper, Johnny decided to quit his games and went in for the kill. He ate you out like there was no tomorrow, slow enough to pay attention to detail yet fast enough so that you weren’t left hanging. You bit your lip when you felt him on your flesh. It didn’t subdue your sounds completely, but enough to where Johnny could tell that they were being muffled.

He drew back, dissatisfied by your lack of volume. “Don’t bite your lip. No one’s hear with us so I wanna hear you.”

You were a little dazed when you nodded, present physically yet mentally beginning to tune out. His lips distracted you, coated with a glossy layer of your slick. Minutes ago it was an image that had only seemed to exist when you closed your eyes, imagining this moment as you had longed for its arrival. Now it had become a reality and you were beyond blissful. You wanted to freeze time and prolong the pleasure for as long as possible.

The only thing capable of sucking you back out of your mind was the feeling of Johnny’s lips reattaching themselves to your skin. You couldn’t suppress the moan that fell from your mouth then even if you tried, caught off-guard as you were absorbed in your head. You could feel the smug grin dashing upon his lips but it was hard to care when he was practically sucking the life out of you. This was all you had ever wanted and needless to say Johnny didn’t disappoint not one bit. He was everything you imagined he’d be times two.

“F-feels so good,” you stammered. There was nothing to fake even if you wanted to, it genuinely felt good and he was serious competition for anyone that had ever gone down on you before. Your brain felt clouded and your skin felt hot and you liked it. Loved it.

Johnny would have been insufferable with the dirty talk if it wasn’t for the fact that his mouth was currently preoccupied between your thighs. You could already hear the words he’d probably say if he didn’t have a mouthful of pussy, “Yeah? You like that, princess?” Oh, and the never-ending pet names. You were usually fond of them, but he made them seem next level. Maybe it was his voice or some other factor, but you knew that you were attracted to it regardless.

On his end, Johnny was absolutely wrecked on you. From the way he’s going down on you, with an eagerness that only a starved man could possess (and in a sense, he was one), it’s no secret, either. With how well he managed to hide his desire it got difficult for you to remember that he wanted you as much as you did him, and that was an unsafe amount.

You could feel your orgasm creeping up on you steadily. Your gut was practically screaming it at you, and god you couldn’t wait to cum on his tongue. Every day after the next wasn’t simply edging, but plain orgasm denial. Today was the day the torture was meant to stop.

“Close,” you moaned, as if it weren’t obvious enough, “gonna cum.”

He hummed a muffled, “Yeah?” Johnny knew that you wouldn’t last much longer. Aside from the sensation tearing through your stomach, all the outwardly noticeable clues were the tremble of your thighs and the sounds you made. Though much to your misfortune, the next would be of disappointment instead of delight as he moved away from you yet again.

“Sorry, baby,” he for once sounded decently apologetic. “But I want you to cum when I’m inside you.”

“Fuck me,” you pleaded, although you didn’t have to. Johnny was set on his goal the moment he brought you into his bedroom.

“Trust me, I am. Come here.”

Your movements showed no hesitation as you crawled onto his lap. His lips latched onto your neck and aroused a subtle, soft gasp of surprise from you. You made no attempt to fight his actions though, his hands attacking your skin simultaneously as he tugged at the remaining articles of clothing. As his fingers went for your bra, yours came for his own clothes, unbuttoning his top and slipping it down his shoulders.

Johnny chuckled with amusement at how eager you were. Nevermind himself; he was pinning you back down against the mattress roughly, lips attacking your flesh as his hand slinked beneath your skirt. It wrenched your panties down your thighs and found your clit seconds later, meanwhile his mouth was practically glued to your skin, sucking at your chest, neck, and collarbone. Your neck was most likely covered in hickeys and you knew that, but it felt too good to get concerned over. You figured Johnny would probably have wanted to see them anyways.

The sounds you made each time were cute, but only made Johnny yearn for more. He was going to be an animal the moment he got inside you, wild, untamed, and hunting.

Johnny drew back one final time, knowing what he wanted and that he needed it now. He rummaged throughout the drawers of his dresser swiftly.

You crooked your head to the side. “What are you doing?”

“Finding a condom. Practicing safe sex. Unless, you don’t want me to wear one. I’m clean.”

At that, you were chewing at your bottom lip. Your mind was filled to the brim with dirty scenarios you had thought of before, Johnny cumming inside and making you feel full. You knew the sex would be good either way, but damn it, your imagination had won today.

“I’m on the pill. You can go bareback, if you want,” you murmured, in your attempt to appear as though you hadn’t daydreamed about him fucking you raw.

And of course, he saw right through you. But he only grinned smugly and replied, “Say less. Get on your hands and knees.”

As expected, you took no time to comply. You crawled into position as soon as you heard the command, resting on your palms and knees with your back in an arch. Johnny grabbed a pillow and placed it underneath you, ensuring your comfort first. “You good, baby?”

You nodded. “All good.”

Johnny hummed. He positioned himself behind you not much longer, one hand clutching your waist and the other holding his dick as he then slid inside you. The two of you sighed out immediately in relief - you could feel his grip on you tighten the moment he entered you, and he heard the moan you chirped. There was no doubt that the little waiting game only made this moment better for the both of you, wanting each other in a way that was incomparable to any other feeling you’d ever experienced.

“Fuck, so b-big,” you stammered. You were as aroused as you could have possibly been, but Johnny still had a size you knew would leave you breathless once you saw it through more the print against his pants.

Easing in and out of you, Johnny cooed, “Dick too big for you, baby?” He wouldn’t pick up his pace until he was sure that you were entirely comfortable, and would give you the time to adjust if you needed it. He wanted you to enjoy this as much as he would.

You shook your head. “N-no, I can take it.”

Johnny sported a grin, proud. He whispered, “Good girl.”

He had dreamed of moments like this. Moments where it was just you and him, shutting the world out as you felt each other as closely as you possibly could. Moments where he was pressed deeply inside you, making you moan from every thrust. Moments where he would finally taste a slice of the heaven he had wanted for much longer than he could identify. Johnny had known you wanted him since before a couple of weeks ago. Before that evening in the kitchen, before he confronted you in the hallway, and way before your pool shenanigans. You had always been anything but subtle, and even if you weren’t particularly as bold as you were now, there was always a subconscious ache for him in you that he couldn’t help but sense. You didn’t know it, but you just couldn’t hide your lust.

“Such a good girl. Taking me so well, just like you said you would, princess,” he whispered. That was all it took to make you weak. You were too dazed to tell for sure, but you knew you had probably moaned a little at his praise.

You pushed any other thought back into the spider-y corner in the deep shadows at the back of your brain. Thinking about anything other than Johnny and how he felt between your legs was nearly impossible, and you were relaxed in a way that you hadn’t been in a while. He was just so easy to melt into, someone that made you forget about every other minor and major problem and consequence you’d eventfully have to face.

While he was pounding you from behind, Johnny brought his hand right back underneath your skirt and to your clit. You weren’t surprised that he hadn’t taken it off since he was always unsubtle about his favoritism towards it, and he thought you looked lovely like this.

You whimpered needily, “Johnny.” His fingers were fast at work on you, and in the most positive way possible, you weren’t sure if you could handle it.

“You feel so good, baby girl,” Johnny growled. If anything that only made you want it more, although you already him and he had you.

Sex with Johnny was already better than either of you had ever imagined. There had always been this picture in his head, but now that he could feel you taking every inch of him, he wanted to heighten the feeling and surpass the limits. It was the same for you — your fingers and vibrator could never compare to the feeling of having him inside your walls. He was driving you crazy and you were driving him even crazier.

Even if once was already know risky enough, you were already fantasizing about the next time. You were determined that you could do this “under wraps” thing with him if it meant that you could recreate this feeling again. It was too good to pass up, too good to only have once. There was something so intoxicating about how Johnny felt in you, and how he made you feel generally. Being underneath him alone was somehow one of the most pleasurable things you’d ever felt.

Keeping things under wraps, however, was going to be easier said than done. Not only did it mean keeping this a secret from your best friend, you couldn’t afford to have anyone else find out. But with how the bed creaked, and you were moaning his name loud enough for the neighbors to know what was happening in his bedroom, you were going to need more than a good excuse. You could only hope the walls were thick enough to subdue most of your sounds. The only sounds audible in the room were skin-slapping, moans and grunts, heavy breathing and you swore that you could hear your heartbeat in your brain. You wondered if Johnny could hear it too, or if the banging in your chest was something that only you would be able to pick up on.

The force of Johnny’s thrusts knocked your body forward, enough to cause your face to crash into a pillow. He went at a tolerable pace - not too slow, yet not too fast - and yet, your heartbeat was racing. Maybe it was all the action unfolding around you, or maybe it was simply the exhilaration making your blood feel as though it was zipping throughout your veins. Whatever it was, you knew that you liked it.

There was nothing to not like — Johnny fucked you too good for that. It hadn’t surprised you not even a bit, but Johnny was better than anyone who had ever been between your thighs. He was relentless. The pressure your body felt right then was enough to make you implode.

That was when you could feel it approaching again. It was louder, even more prominent, and you were desperate for Johnny to make you cum. Now that you had finally proved to him that you deserved it, you would snap if he edged you even once more. You were tired of being denied pleasure, and you knew Johnny was tired of denying himself the sweet victory.

“C-cumming, Johnny please,” you begged, plea half-muffled into the pillow. You weren’t above it, not when your orgasm was in arms reach. Johnny had tamed you, and whatever shame or face you had to save was discarded ages ago.

“Fuck, yeah? Hold on,” he muttered.

Johnny changed your positions, moving from behind you to above you, and you underneath him. You glanced at him with furrowed eyebrows, wondering what prompted the change.

As if he could read your mind, he said, “Wanna see your face when you cum, baby girl.”

That made your heart flutter.

It was always painfully obviously when you were far from it. As long as whoever was fucking you was doing a good job, there was never a need to question it, and Johnny was doing a phenomenal one. Never had anyone had you as weak as he did and it was dangerous. You were addicted; and now that you were hooked, it was possible for you to take more of him than was safe.

Yet you couldn’t be bothered. Not now, not when you were so, so close to having it all. You didn’t care what was too much, because it didn’t seem like there was even a such thing as enough. You were on the brink of an orgasm, thighs trembling yet again and your face twisting with pleasure. Johnny hissed at how you were clenching around him, tightening his hold on your hips. He wasn’t at all very much far behind you.

“Johnny,” you cried out.

He leaned low, peppering kisses to your neck. “I got you, baby. Cum for me,” he crooned, almost as breathless as you were.

Moans tumbled from your mouth as you did exactly that, wounding your nails in the bare flesh of his back. Johnny was set off only moments after that, either by your expressions or how you were relentlessly clenching around him, painting your walls with his cum as he groaned sexily into your ear. You couldn’t move, barely even breathe as you rested against your sheets. Your chest rose and fell quickly, but Johnny kissing your skin soothed you; it made everything feel okay.

“How do you feel, princess?” He cooed beside your ear.

You answered through a shallow breath, sporting a grin as you replied, “Full.”

Johnny murmured, satisfied, “Good.” He was showing the utmost appreciation to your body and skin, kissing you and holding you and treating you so gently. It was like being beside him alone made the whole world disappear. He was still inside you, softened up, but he wanted to wallow in this feeling a little longer.

“We’ll do this again, right?” You asked. Maybe it was a little desperate, but you needed to know.

“Of course, baby girl. You thought we did all that waiting just to go one time?”

No, you wanted to say. It wasn’t that you had, but Johnny was unpredictable whenever he wanted to be. You needed a little confirmation, just to be safe.

Instead, you opted for shaking your head. “Will you make me wait again?”

“No,” Johnny shook his head back, “not unless you decide to be a brat again and need to be punished. Think you can be a good girl for me, babe?”

You smiled softly, bobbing your head. The last thing you wanted was to be put through that torture ever again, and if all it took to never experience it again was submitting to Johnny, then it was say less.

You had that out of the way. Johnny was accessible to you, and you to him. There was one small conflict now, you remembered as his phone began to ring, with the caller ID being daughter.

There was still another game that you both had to play; hide and seek.

#johnny smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #johnny x reader #nct imagines #johnny imagines #johnny suh smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

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adventuringblind · 4 months

Text

Ma Belle

Lestappen x Reader

Genre: Mafia AU, fluff

Summary: an arranged leads to a few struggles. The main one being that Max and Charles can only seem to summon their wife with her favorite movie.

Dialouge prompt: "It's okay baby, you're safe with us." "Yes we can watch the same movie for the millionth time, love."

Warnings: arranged marriage, daddy issues

Notes: part of my 1000 followers event. Requests are open again for regular asks btw (poly, lando, oscar, charles, Max, daniel, and logan for sure, and Liam and Carlos, depending on the request)👀

Masterlist

Being a bargaining chip had been her purpose. The only reason she was born. In the possibility some kind of treaty needed to be made, she would be there.

So she learned how to be perfect. How to look the part her father needed her to. Played the game that everyone in this line of work plays.

Regardless of if everything in her mind is screaming to back out and run away as they sign the papers. She's being married off to not just one man, but two men who she doesn't know. They know each other. They'd supposedly been in her situation and have been married for a while already. They look at her with Kindess. A Dutch named Max and a Monegasque names Charles. A sympathy maybe only They can share with her.

She closes herself off the second they are alone. She is nothing more then a possession. A piece on the board for if things go wrong. These two don't actually want her and they already have each other. Why is she even here? Because of some treaty?

She ignores them. Keeps her distance. Pretends they don't exist. All the while watching the same move over and over again when they aren't around to hear.

Beauty and the Beast is her comfort movie. The one consistent in her life apart violence and backwards politics. She's not sure where it came from, the love for this movie. Maybe it's the comfort she finds in knowing she's not the only one locked away for some underlying purpose.

Max and Charles, to their credit, attempt to make am effort while not scaring her further away. They offer food at her door when she doesn't want to come out. They make attempts to show her affection. They give her space when she needs and don't push for more them she is willing to give.

Max and Charles weren't supposed to be home until later. Out on 'buisness' which code for something probably illegal. Which means, she wraps herself up in a blanket and makes her way to the television. She puts on her comfort movie and promptly passes out after a having a sleepless night in her own bed.

When the two males return, they find her asleep with the movie long forgotten. They don't move her, but instead restart the film. They stay with her until she wakes.

The shock hits first and then something like bewilderment follows. She eats with them after that and even keeps up some light conversation.

They tell her that the situation isn't ideal, but they made the most of it and intend on doing the same with her. They comfort and hold. They keep her safe when she needs it. They spoil her when she lets them.

But most importantly, they watch the same movie with her over and over again.

On this particular occasion, she was coming home from a visit with her father. The man who basically abandoned her with unfamiliar men for the entirety of her life. It left her feeling drained and insecure. She had been prepared for this her entire life and somehow she wasn't treating Max and Charles like she knows a good wife should.

She collapses on the couch. She pays no attention to anything else and just sobs. You'd think she was injured. Maybe even dying. Though this certainly felt like death. The idea that Max and Charles will leave her one day, send her back to her father who will find some other way to use her. It makes her stomach churn.

The two males take in the scene before them. Charles hastily fumbles for the the remote and sets up the movie they've watched almost everyday for a month now. He it man enough to admit its grown on him and he has the lyrics of every song memorized and working on turning it into piano music. Max sets about getting the female upright. She goes unwilling and ends up with her head in Max's lap.

"liefde, what's got you in tears?" Max makes an attempt at drying her tears only for more to show up.

She hiccups a few times. "I'm not a good enough wife, but I'll do better I promise. Just, please, don't send me back."

Charles joins the on the couch and runs nimble fingers along her skin. "Did something happen with your father to make you think that?"

"He used to make me pretend to be a wife to some of the men who work for him." Her eyes get cloudy thinking back to the memories. Her childhood was not one she looks back at fondly. "I just want to be enough."

"Dry your tears." Max starts before she can spiral again. "It's okay, baby, you're safe here with us. You're trying your best, and we know this kind of situation isn't easy. Just let us show you we care, yes?"

She looks up to see the movie ready to be played. The soft music in the background instantly calms her. "You don't mind?"

"We can watch the same movie for the millionth time, amour." Charles laughs softly when he sees her smile. "It really is a good movie."

"Charles is jealous." Max smirks playfully.

A genuinepang of curiosity hits her. "Of who?"

"Belle, because I'm the beast and he's obviously Gaston."

"Why am I Gaston?!"

"Because you wear red all the time, duh."

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wynnyfryd · 3 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 48

part 1 | part 47 | ao3

cw: mentions of smoking/sexual activity

Chapter 11

February

For two and a half months, Steve’s life goes perfectly. He didn’t realize how far into a pit he’d fallen until Eddie showed up to help Robin and the kids lift him out, but the difference is jarring. Golden hour sunlight after catching a matinée.

Steve spends two months blinking.

He sloughs off his sadness like a snake shedding skin; spends the winter getting back to being Steve, restocks his favorite hair products and restarts his fitness routines — morning runs through the woods, afternoon pick-up games with Lucas and some of his teammates when the weather doesn’t suck. Weightlifting in the evenings because Eddie says he likes how Steve’s arms look when they get a little big, says it’s more fun to pin him down when he knows it’s just for show.

And he tries new things, too, just because Eddie likes them or because the kids think they're cool. He reads a Vonnegut novel. He eats Indian curry. He even learns a song on guitar.

...Sort of.

Eventually.

(Actually, that whole thing goes pretty horribly and takes for-fucking-ever. Eddie spends an afternoon patiently encouraging him and doing his best not to tease while Steve clumsily moves through a beginner chord progression, and then breaks down wheezing when, after the sixth attempt with no improvement, Steve puts the guitar down in a huff and threatens to demote his pinky finger from his hand if it doesn't start cooperating. Eddie laughs so hard he tips face-first into Steve's crotch, and it takes them a sticky-spitty-sweaty half hour to get back to the lesson.)

Anyway, he likes the way their lives entangle. As easy as weaving his hands through Eddie’s hair.

He gets invited to band practice; he sits in on D&D. Sometimes he watches sports with Wayne when he's got a day off, then he heads out with Eddie for long joyrides through the countryside.

Eddie blasts his metal music when they get out to the backroads, and he talks too loudly over the bass and laughs even louder and rants about nothing and smokes cigarettes while he headbangs to his favorite guitar solos — almost lights his hair on fire on more than one occasion, fucking dumbass — and he does this silly, lewd shit that makes Steve's chest just ache. Makes it clench around the word that's been burning a hole in his tongue since New Year's Eve. Eddie wags his brows and palms himself through his jeans and asks if Steve wants to take another joyride when they get home, and Steve thinks:

God, I love you.

I love you.

How could I not love you?

And really, how could he not? And how much longer can he keep not telling him so? When it feels like the word is going to burst out of his chest Alien-style any second.

When it feels like Eddie's the reason he even has a home to get to.

Slowly — so slowly, hours spent thrifting and bartering and keeping an eye out for free stuff left out on the curb, even more hours sanding and painting and caulking and sweating to death between trips to the hardware store — they redo Steve's whole trailer. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall, they exorcise the haunted tin can. They make it his; they make it theirs.

Eddie injects life into every inch of the space, fills it with weird art and funky lamps and a big, comfy leather couch that he likes to bend Steve over. Comes inside him in every room when they get done working on it as a reward; gasps in Steve's ear about how he always wants to be inside him: in his home, in his body, nestled deep inside his heart. "Keep me right here, baby," he breathes as he fucks Steve against a wall, his left hand gripping Steve's chest while he fills him from behind.

It’s perfect.

It's perfect.

Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts unless Steve asks.

And then, because this godforsaken town and everyone in it are fucking cursed, one day it isn’t anymore.

—

part 49

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my fic #oh giant joseph head we're really in it now

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mr-jack-letterman · 16 days

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HELLO HI

God I love the Submas fandom, all of you are so nice <3

In any case, I have a silly Au for y'all to munch on.

Allow me to introduce you all to Covalent Twins :]

Covalent

Adjective

- Relating to or denoting chemical bonds formed by the sharing of electrons between atoms.

Or in this case, the sharing of Emmet between 2 Ingos from different timelines NSNDNNDDD.

This Au is essentially the answer to the question: "doesn't being sent to the distant past inherently mean you are also now long dead in the future you just left?"

The answer is yes and no btw

The explanation for this involves a lot of time nonsense that I'm very bad at explaining but the Tldr is basically this:

When Ingo gets sent to the past, this creates a connection between the past and the future. This makes time get all fucky and split into two separate timelines (Timeline A and Timeline B)

Timeline A:

Time in this timeline runs parallel to the future as long as Ingo stays within it (essentially, if Ingo stays in the past for 2 years, then 2 years pass in the present).

Due to this connection, Akari (aka Dawn) gets sent to this timeline (But not Timeline B) and the game events of PLA play out (+ a lot more Ingo bonding because uncle Ingo supremacy)

Akari manages to get her and Ingo sent back home with the power of Arceus, causing both timelines to merge back together again into one cohesive line with only the events of Timeline B being remembered by history.

Ingo and Emmet get their happy ending.

This Ingo got sent to Hisui when he was 29, stayed there for 2 years, and went home when he was 31.

And Timeline B:

This timeline was created as a cannon fodder timeline so Akari and Ingo can keep doing time shenanigans in Timeline A without disturbing the space time continuum even more.

This timeline is therefore not connected to the future the same way Timeline A is.

The Ingo of this timeline (Nicknamed "War" or "Warden" for simplicity.) lives through the PLA game events but with Rei taking the place of Akari.

War doesn't bond with him the same way Ingo does with Akari because Rei isn't a faller.

The events of the game are the exact same (minus the Arc phone, Rei taking the place of Akari, and catching Arceus).

Despite Rei calming the nobles and catching Palkia and Dialga, he is still not the chosen hero. Warden is unable to go home or regain his memories.

Warden lives in Hisui and serves as a warden for the Pearl Clan for a total of 7 years before dying alongside his partner pokemon, Gliscor (nicknamed Nimbasa), while protecting Lady Sneasler from a Zoroark attack at the age of 36.

Warden drifts as a ghost for many years, with only Nimbasa the Gliscor as company. He watches his friends grow old, and eventually die. They pass on to the afterlife, but Warden stays on earth, wandering the Alabaster Icelands and Mount Coronet, searching for people from a life he can't remember even in death.

Warden watches as Hisui changes into Sinnoh. Jubilife Village becomes Jubilife City. Pokemon species die out and new ones are born.

As the world slowly becomes more and more familiar, the great Sinnohs, Palkia and Dialga, take pity on the lost warden, and decide together to lead him home.

It may take 150 years, and many miles of travel, but Warden is pulled by an unknown force towards the Unova region. Though he is unable to touch anything or speak to anyone, it's all so painfully familiar.

He is pulled towards Nimbasa city, (ah! That's where he got the name from!) and eventually to an apartment.

There, he is greeted by a young girl, barely 17. A man in black, who looks exactly like him, give or take a few years and a few scars.

And a smiling man in white. The man he has been searching for for over 150 years...

And they're staring at him, truly staring at him, not through him.

Why is the man in white crying?

*evil laughter.mp3*

So yeah! The twins have an older brother now :D

I mean he's dead and also Ingo just 5 years older and from a different timeline but still!!!

If you've made it this far I believe you deserve a gold star ⭐ and also some art for your troubles.

So here's War and Nimbasa ↓

And some fluffy interaction between War and Emmet as a bandaid.

If you guys have any questions regarding how this Au works, or are interested in seeing more of it, don't hesitate to shoot me an ask :D

I hope I enjoyed reading about my silly Au, even if it was a bit long lol.

*fades back into the void of Submas fics.*

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kairamuwu · 1 year

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🧍‍♂️s-space au

They dont know how to land a ship so they just crash and steal another

But it's ok! Joel is the best pilot in the universe! ,,according to him

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skimmeh · 10 months

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I animated him again

:D space gri!!

#my doodles #grian #space death game au #gifs #stareater au

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tropetember · 10 months

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Enemies / Friends / Strangers To Lovers

Police / Detective / (Super)Hero // Crime / Mafia / (Super)Villain

Hurt/Comfort / Sickfic / Whump

Coffee Shop / Tattoo Parlour / Flower Shop / Other Retail AU

Rockstar / Actor / Model / Famous AU

High School / College / University AU / 80’s Teen Movie AU

Historical (Regency, Ancient Greece/Rome, Prehistory, etc) / Modern / Futuristic AU

Time Travel / Time Loop (eg. Groundhog Day) / Amnesia / Coma

5+1 / 3+1 (Five Times + One Time)

Accidental Confession / In Vino Veritas (Drunk Confession/Drunk Dial)

Business Partners To Friends To Lovers / Competitor Businesses / Office AU

Huddling For Warmth / Sharing A Bed / Touch Starvation

Slice Of Life / Domestic / Found Family

Monstrous (Human/Monster Romance) / Cultural Differences / Language Barrier

Marriage Of Convenience / Arranged Marriage / Matchmaking / Blind Dates

Future Fic / Reunion / Childhood Friends / Friendship Centric

Getting Together / Love Confession / First Kiss / Break Up/Make Up

Body Swap / Psychic Link / Soulmates / Bonding (eg. ABO, Sentinel AU, etc)

Apocalypse / Zombie / Locked In Together / (Natural) Disaster

Science Fiction / Fantasy / Space Opera / Horror

Genderswap / Rule 63 / De-Aging / Age Changes AU

Canon Rewrite / Fix-It / Everybody Lives / Everybody Dies / Major Character Death

Mythology / Supernatural / Fairytale / Wingfic

Accidental Baby Acquisition / (Single) Parent AU / Babysitting

Mutual Pining / Requited/Unrequited Love / Angst With A Happy Ending

Fake Dating / Didn’t Know They Were Dating / Accidental Dating / Accidental Marriage

Repression / Emotional Constipation / Sexuality Crisis (Gay Panic)

Holidays & Celebrations / Proposals / Prom

Fusion / Crossover / Harlequin / Rom-Com (eg: Hogwarts, Pacific Rim, Daemons, Hunger Games, The Princess Bride, Pride & Prejudice, Love Actually, 10 Things I Hate About You, etc)

FREE SPACE

Link to Hard Mode Prompt List

Link to Rules & FAQ

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vhstown · 8 months

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time out (part 2)

[boxer au] — 42!miles g morales x gn!reader

summary: Miles Morales makes boxing history. Your boyfriend isn't there to celebrate.

warnings: angst-ish, hurt/comfort, fluff, description of (boxing) injuries, briefly implied death, gtranslate spanish

word count: 5.3k

a/n: editing this was actual torture. kind of becomes a song fic? song is dreamer by bobby bland if you wanna listen before u read lmao entirely not necessary tho. part 2 of 2 but i might write this au again in the future !

← PART 1 / THE AU

Boxing — you tried to be as well versed in it as possible, learning as many terms and moves and whatever else you could pick up from Aaron when he was helping Miles train for all those weeks. What you weren’t sure of, though, was if a “time out”, or a break, had to be this awkward. What you also weren’t sure of was what on Earth your boyfriend was thinking doing here at midnight training (or splitting his knuckles open, though you didn’t quite know the difference anymore,) right after his tournament had finished.

Regardless, there was nothing you could do about it. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t just leave and “give him space” as you might’ve done before. The weather didn’t look like it was going to clear up anytime soon, and you had no signal or money; it wasn't like Miles would call a car for himself anyway — stubborn.

Miles was sat on the floor against a set of shelves with various things that belonged to Aaron, and you were on an unbearably stiff bench press seat, legs close together so you wouldn’t fall off and your jacket hung around the weight. Cold, uncomfortable, dead silent — the perfect atmosphere for a productive conversation, of course.

Truthfully, you had no idea what to say. Yeah, you’d just talked big game to your boyfriend and scolded him like his mother probably would’ve if she knew what the hell he was up to, but you hadn’t planned anything after that. Miles wasn’t a talker — not by any means. Right now, he was sat on the floor with his legs crossed, stretching uncomfortably on his elbows with his hands in awkward positions to try and not strain them too much. He hadn’t said anything, so you hadn’t said anything either, and now you were stuck without any words and too many thoughts.

It was a lot of unmet glances and quiet shivers, and you tried your best to kill the urge to just... lean over and hug him. As much as you missed him and wanted to let out everything you’d been feeling for the past couple of weeks, now wasn’t the best time — Miles probably couldn’t even hug you with those gnarly injuries anyway.

Miles’ eyes were dull and tired, fixed on the ground or maybe somewhere you couldn’t see. As usual, you couldn’t gauge anything from his expression besides mild annoyance. It was like a constant guessing game. First, why your texts weren’t going through, secondly, where the hell he was, and now you had to figure out why on Earth he was so frustrated. Your luck had ran out with those first two guesses, and his silence certainly didn’t help — again, not a talker. Not even a looker; he wasn’t stealing glances of you anymore, like he was thinking about something. If only you knew what.

The most you could guess was that this was about not winning — but it couldn’t just be that simple. Miles was stupid sometimes, but he wasn’t delusional — he knew that he probably couldn’t beat every single person in that championship when he was just starting to go professional. This wasn’t some kiddish, lofty dream Miles had either — he was serious from the day Aaron got him those gloves, which were now crumpled up in the corner next to you. He wouldn’t throw a fit over nothing.

It wasn’t right to force it out of him though, and you could still sense the stubbornness lingering in the crease between his brows. You resisted the urge to smooth it out with your thumb, instead just killing it with every other thought you deemed “selfish”. Apparently, waiting was just as much of a competitive sport at boxing.

The door rattled as icy drafts bit at your ankles and fingertips. It sounded like the sky was going to collapse from how intense the storm was growing. Miles was just in a tank top, his hoodie abandoned on the bar behind you. You figured he could get it himself; any sort of help always seemed pitying to him anyway.

“I’m training with uncle Aaron tonight — stay home.”

“I can handle myself. How else you think I got this far?”

“You ain’t comin’ to Vegas with me.”

You found yourself reaching for the hoodie anyway. Miles didn’t notice, of course, but you could see the goose bumps on skin even from this far away.

“Hey,” you muttered, making him look up. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up, or sulk some more?”

His mouth opened, but only to let out a breath, before silence fell between you again.

“Fine, I don’t… get it, or whatever.” You continued, fingers trailing into the sleeves of the hoodie. “But I don’t get how I’m supposed to when you’re not talking to me.”

“There’s nothing to get.” It was like you had Vegas between you two again — like he wasn’t even here.

The fabric of the hoodie was warm, and a part of you didn’t feel like letting go of it — if only your boyfriend was in the hoodie too.

“I don’t get why you’d box without wraps, for one.”

“I’m just… frustrated,” he yielded, albeit unhelpfully. “‘S nothing serious, promise.”

Serious enough to have your fingers hanging on by a thread. You noticed his thumb nursing the blackened skin around his knuckles, and his expression seemed even more distant than it was before. It was always some impossible game, and you hadn’t lost, but were drained and out of words for now.

Maybe he’d figure it out for himself; you weren’t too convinced of that. Despite that, it was getting annoying to hear the constant howling of wind and rain outside. Walking over to the shelf, you dropped the hoodie in Miles’ lap. You doubted he had even looked at you, but you didn’t need him to. Right now, you needed something to fill this boring, cold and wordless room.

Looking through the shelves behind Miles, you noticed a picture: a much younger Aaron wearing boxing gloves, a medal around his neck and standing next to someone you assumed to be Miles' dad. You'd never looked at any of the pictures close up, but you noticed there were a lot of old pictures like that, before finding Aaron's collection of records.

Taking the first one out, you put it into the player and carefully set the needle, glancing at the name of the song. His taste in music wasn’t exactly popular, but you’d rather listen to “DREAMER” than “inconveniently timed Brooklyn storm” right now.

Letting out a sigh of your own, you slumped down next to him as he pulled the hoodie over his head, arms going back to being crossed.

"~Dreamer... dreamer... Like a fool, I thought that it could be..." Of course it was a sad song. Blues? The haunting melody made you feel blue. It made the cold feel more numbing than biting on your skin. It made you feel, in general — what, you couldn’t really place.

“…Are we okay?” you muttered without much thought. The urge to talk had come back, and you hadn’t decided if you regretted speaking yet.

"~Dream on... dream on... surely someone, will understand me..."

Miles let out a breath, and it felt like you were exchanging more sighs than words. “Yeah. I just… ‘S not you.”

No “promise”, though. Did that make it more or less honest?

"~What do I say, when I've, oh, said too much? I think by now, I'm wastin' time..."

“...I love you, y’know?” you continued, hating how out of place it sounded. It was as useless as that text you tried to send, but you were tired, and missed your boyfriend, and wished he would give you even a glance.

“~I'm going… oh Lord I'm gone…”

“Love you too,” he mumbled in reply. It wasn’t very reassuring, and it didn’t seem like it to him either, because he reached out to brush your hand against his. You took his hand first — gently, and his thumb pressed into your palm in a sort of silent apology.

You hated how futile it was, and how much you craved it again. You hated you couldn’t be even a little mad at him, and how you were defending him to yourself. Maybe you were both in the wrong. No — you weren’t wrong, you were trying to be understanding.

You weren’t wrong for feeling this way, were you?

“~You are the absence, of my mind…”

You hated how much you missed that boy from all those months ago — even though he was right in front of you. It didn’t feel like Miles Morales was yours anymore, he was theirs — whoever “they” were. His competitors, his managers, the media… It was like there was no trace of the Miles you knew before. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t deny it anymore: that Miles had a dream, and you probably weren’t in it. You hated how you took it so personally.

And you hated how you reached out to hug him, despite all of that.

It was just you for a moment, and you were about to pull away before his arms wrapped loosely around the small of your back.

You hated how you hid your face over his shoulder, and how nice it felt. You hated how warm he was, and how the room was freezing.

You hated how familiar this was.

“~Lord, dreamer… dreamer…”

“Sorry, cariño. Didn’t mean to be an asshole.” Miles’ fingertips dragged uselessly over your back, and you shamelessly tightened your arms around him as he pressed his cheek into yours. You might’ve shed a tear, if it weren't for how heavy your eyes were already with the late hour. Neither of you could go home yet, though you weren’t sure if you wanted to right now.

“~Like a fool… I thought, well, that it could be…”

The long sigh you let out was followed by Miles’ own quiet one before he kissed you on the cheek. His breath warmed your frigid face and brushed at your heart, as he always did. You wished you could be upset, overreact, scream at his face, tell him how you felt all this time. It just always had to end with forgiveness, because now, you couldn’t even remember what you had felt.

And you hated it — not as much as you’d like.

Closing your eyes, you buried your head into his hoodie while the music, the storm and the sound of your own breathing blurred together in your mind. All you were left with were your own thoughts.

This boxing thing didn’t involve you — it never did. He didn’t want you there to see him, or even tell you he was home from Vegas, and now it felt like he was just putting up with you here. It felt like you and him were on opposite sides of the pavement, only walking together to share the same umbrella. He just didn’t want you to get soaked — or hurt.

“I told you not to come today… I’m walkin’ you home.”

He didn’t want you to expect too much.

“Nah, you don’t need to see me train. It’s borin’ as hell.”

He didn’t want you to give up on him.

“I’ll make it big — promise.”

He wanted his dream — did he still want you?

“Just be patient with me, cielo.”

Patient, huh? If only you could be like Rio. It felt like you were just as bad as Miles. Maybe you were — both just as bad as each other.

“Why didn’t you text me? …At all?” Muffled against his hoodie, you hoped your voice didn’t waver. It felt a little manipulative, even if it wasn’t in the slightest, but you couldn’t keep telling yourself things were all good. Miles had been avoiding you, whether that was intentional or not. You were just being open — trying to be open. You hope he’d try too.

The boy in question was silent, before he pulled away, hands lingering at your sides.

“I was…” Miles took in a breath, voice dying out for a moment. “Look, I…”

“~Down the wrong way, on a one way street…”

“I can’t be a boxer anymore.”

It felt like the rain had gone quiet. There was no need for an umbrella between you two anymore. It felt like you’d closed it yourself, walking to the opposite side of the pavement again, watching him and the dull, empty sky from afar.

You were the one that asked him — you wanted him to speak to you, and now you weren’t even sure what to say.

“~You'd think by now, I would have learned…”

“What do you mean…?”

“My contract got terminated.” His voice sounded forced, strangely robotic. Was that what you so wanted to get from him?

“Can’t you just… get signed by somebody else?”

“There is nobody else. I had a contract with Norman Osborn — he basically owns boxing.”

“~I saw a little, but I learned even less…”

Your heart dropped a little — you wouldn’t let it drop any more than that. It made sense why Miles was so excited back then if he got signed by someone like that. Now, that excitement meant nothing. All you could think of was that video, that interview…

“I jus’ hope you watchin’, cause I’m here. Miles Morales made it!”

So he’d just… given up? Miles had given up? Was that it? The end of it?

Boxer or not, you suddenly had the urge to punch him — maybe even punch yourself. It didn’t even matter who was right and who was wrong anymore, because you didn’t even know who was in front of you. It was almost uncanny to see Miles like this, so dejected; that’s what he’d been feeling all this time. As much as it seemed like he was mad at you, or was avoiding you, or lying to you, it was never really about you.

Miles was refusing to let go of his dream — of himself — until right now.

And you didn’t know what overcame you at that moment. Maybe it was Rio’s words, or the fact that Aaron wasn’t here, or the fact that you felt like you’d lost your boyfriend — if he wasn’t going to be stubborn about it anymore, you sure as hell were.

“So you’re telling me nobody else is gonna sign you? At all? You haven’t even looked?”

“You don’t get it, ‘s more complicated than—”

“Baby, look at me for a sec.” Your hand was on his shoulder with more confidence than common sense, eyes were square with his avoidant, dull, hopeless gaze. You haven’t ever seen Miles hopeless before. You couldn’t let him be if it was the last thing you did. “You, Miles Gonzalo Morales—”

“Aight, you don’t need the full name.”

“I do need it, because my whole ass boyfriend changed boxing history.” Frankly, you had no idea what you were saying; it felt like you were shooting in the dark, but you didn’t care if you sounded a little stupid, or over-the-top, because if that’s what it took to get your boyfriend to crack even a little… “His 'legendary left jab'—”

“Babe, where the hell did you get that from?” The look he was giving you was probably more of a “jab” than anything.

“…The news.” The corner of your mouth quirked up despite your best efforts, face pricking with heat as you remembered reading through that Bugle article like it was divine revelation. A little stupid, a little over-the-top, sure, but it was true.

Miles’ lips pressed together, and your face heated more trying to decipher his expression. You didn’t have to, because the snicker that escaped his throat was enough make all the rain and thunder and lighting, and even the song insignificant.

“~I only learn to regret…”

“Miles, I’m serious,” you muttered, rather unseriously, brows furrowing as you tried to smooth out the meekness on your face.

“Legendary?” There was a hint of his usual mirth in his tone, and you tried not to be bothered by it. Anything was better than seeing Miles like that: ridiculous, over-the-top, unserious, but not hopeless.

“Look, it was the Bugle, okay? Some millennial wrote that — like, some lady called Mary.”

“Why do you even remember that?” Anything that could come to mind, you’d tell him. No more silence. Just be yourself. Keep talking.

“I read it, like, a lot, okay? I was really proud of you and I just…”

The smirk fell fast from Miles’ face, and you held back any words you might’ve had. The rain eased back in as a constant patter against the windows — the silence had come back despite your efforts. Your heart started to sink a little again, but all you could offer was an awkward smile.

“You’re proud?” he asked, like you’d just lied to his face.

“Yeah…? I always am, but seeing you make it so far…” It was something you didn’t say enough, you realised. The words echoed in your mind as you found the confidence to look at him.

“…Miles Morales made it, right?”

Another tiny breath left Miles, his eyes closing for a moment as you waited for him to speak. You wanted to backtrack, maybe hope the rain would die down soon so you two could leave — you had sort of snuck out… That wasn’t the point, though. You weren’t sure what the point was right now, and you weren’t sure what he was thinking, as always — again.

His lips pressed to your forehead, and then your forehead was against his chest — somehow.

You still had no idea what he was thinking. Now you had no idea what he was feeling — or what you were feeling.

The room was freezing, but you were sure you were slowly setting on fire. Traces of the awkward smile you had were stuck on your face as your cheek pressed into the fabric of his hoodie, and suddenly every little thing you’d thought about saying to him had disappeared in its entirety.

“Dios (God), am I a dumbass…” he murmured to himself. With no clue what to do, you could only focus on the hesitance in the way he held you close, because of his injuries, you weren’t sure. His fingers were cold, like the air was. You didn’t hate the warmth this time.

The silence returned again, and instead of your heart sinking, it was fluttering wildly. You so wanted to take it in your hands and hold it still, but you couldn’t even hold Miles back.

He did this sort of thing often — used to do this often, when he was stressed for whatever reason. He wouldn’t say if he was, but you could always tell. Sometimes he’d ask, and right now, he didn’t, but it wasn’t like you ever refused; it was nice, safe, and away from the storm — close.

"~Surely someone, will understand me..."

He kissed the top of your head, like he was hoping you’d understand.

If only you could. If only you could understand why your boyfriend couldn’t see it — see how far he’d come, how much he’d achieved, how proud he should be of himself, how neither of you should be here right now.

If only Rio was here to tell him how proud she was. Or Aaron. Or his dad.

You never really knew his dad. You knew he’d be proud, at least. He'd probably be beaming seeing how far his son Miles had come, like he did in those pictures with Aaron.

You were proud too. Did that count for anything? Would that change anything? It wouldn’t get him another contract.

You wanted to squeeze his hand, but that was a stupid idea considering the state of it. A lot of your ideas felt stupid as of late. None of them would get him another contract.

It felt like a lot more than just the contract, though; maybe that's why it was so hard. If only he’d tell you.

But waiting wasn’t a game, or a competitive sport. It was nothing like boxing; there was no winner. Waiting was a choice — a promise, that you’d be there when he was ready.

“Just be patient with me, cielo.”

You wondered if he’d ever be ready.

"~Dream on, baby."

You wrapped your arms around him, finally. At the very least, you promised to hold him, if not before, then now. He tightened his grip too, just mariginally.

“I’m sorry, mi cielo.” he started, voice barely audible. “I swear, I didn’t know you actually…” Miles trailed off, resting his chin on the top of your head instead.

“Cared?” you suggested, wondering if he could hear you. “It’s a lot more than that.”

You felt his chest fall as he let out a sigh. “I know.”

“I want you to know.”

“I do, I just… I’m being real dumb and—” You squeezed your arms around him before he could finish his sentence; no more avoidance. What you were going to say after, you didn’t know.

“…What?” His voice was suddenly soft, controlled. It was like he could hear what was going on in your head.

“You ever…" You moved your head away from his chest slightly, so he could hear better. "You ever had a stage name in mind?”

It was the only thing you could think to ask, though you didn’t ask it with much thought at all. Still, things weren't going to go anywhere if you kept dodging the subject.

Miles was silent for more than just a moment — it was enough to guess he did have one. “...Why?”

“Cause… when you get back in the ring, people gotta know you right?” It wasn’t just blind optimism — you decided that you did really believe in him. They weren’t going to see the end of someone like him, not by a long shot — or a legendary left jab. Your boyfriend was one hell of a boxer; it wouldn't just stop here — no way.

“I mean, '17-year-old from NYC' isn’t exactly catchy,” you continued, despite his silence.

Just one loss before so many wins. At his age, a win, against a “long-time champion” no less, was worth a million times more than that Norman guy’s contract, no matter how much of a big-shot he was.

“You think I’m gettin’ signed?” They’d be stupid not to.

“I know you’re getting signed.” Rio's words came back to you, and despite your hesitance, you found yourself saying: “If not, I’ll sign you and go to Vegas myself.”

Patient — like his mom, but also with that fighting spirit. You realised you had to be on his level too — match his energy, his enthusiasm. He’d spent long enough being on his own.

“...Fine, fine,” he shrugged. The edge in his tone seemed to fade as he thought for a moment. “If you’re signin’ me, you’re signin’… The Prowler.”

Miles loved boxing? Screw it, you loved boxing too. You loved boxing more than him, in fact — because it was a part of him. And even when he didn’t love his dream so much, you’d be there to love it for him. He loved all of you, and you loved all of him. That was still true now, even if he was going through something not so lovely.

And soon, you’d have something else to love too. Something new.

“The Prowler,” you repeated, a smile of your own creeping up on your face. “…You sure?” The groan Miles let out was enough to curb your need to annoy him… with love.

“Cariño…" he mumbled. "You ask just to make fun of me?” Miles shook his head, and you just squeezed him around the waist again.

“No, no way. I wanna welcome you to the team, Prowler.” A few firm pats on his back got him to laugh again, and though it was barely, that moment felt worth all those weeks.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m a hundred percent serious. You and your 'legendary left jab' and all.”

“You…” The hint of a smile was in his voice, and his good hand came to pull you closer, pressing the two of you flush against each other.

“Me…?” Your voice was muffled as you rested against the hollow of his neck, feeling the vibrations of his voice as he spoke.

“Can’t believe you’re still here.” It sounded more like he was talking to himself, speaking under his breath. The way it came out, it seemed like something he'd wanted to say for a while.

“Why would I leave?” Why would you ever leave?

“No clue.”

His good hand found your face, and you turned your head a bit so it wouldn't be so awkward to reach it.

“Don't know why I ever thought that.”

You felt his thumb run across your cheek, before pulling away and tilting your face up to meet his eyes.

“Damn, you're beautiful,” he murmured, dipping his head down to bump your nose with his, stoic expression and all. You were just about able to keep your composure.

“You trying to make it up to me with flattery?” It wasn’t like he had much to make up for — in your eyes, at least. The tease made his eyes narrow, but the ghost of a smile was on his lips.

“I can make it up to you a hell of a lot better than that.”

“Morales,” you warned, thought it didn't come out much like a warning. Especially not with how quietly you said it, your face so close to his.

“What?” It was his turn to be annoying. “Lo imaginé…” (I thought so…) You weren't sure you minded it.

It was nice to be joking, and flirting, and close again. There was no need to protest right now — no reason to pretend to be mad. His arm shifted to search for your hand, and you unconsciously laced your fingers together as your faces drew closer. You were already squeezing his hand before—

“Aye…!” Miles hissed, slipping his hand away as you both remembered the nasty, loud bruise that was spreading across his hand. His left hand, you realised, was the one he’d injured — it wasn’t exactly legendary now.

“Sorry…” you muttered, lips pressing together tightly as you took in the sight again. “But that was your fault."

Miles frowned at you almost incredulously as he held his own hand. “Nuh-uh.”

“Time out, Morales.” You couldn’t help it. Or help the smile on your face.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” You kissed his cheek to really rub it in. No more words from him, it looked like.

After a moment more of silence, and watching Miles nurse his own hand, you spoke up again. “…Are you gonna go back? To boxing?” Miles looked back at you, before nodding.

“Yeah. Eventually, I guess...” He let out a sigh, but it seemed like one of fatigue rather than frustration. You blinked away your own tiredness that was creeping back. "As the Prowler.”

“Got a lot of… prowling to do, then.” He pursed his lips at you in contempt, and you gave him a meek look in return. As much as you made fun of the name, it was pretty cool. “When are you thinking?”

“I’ll wait a little. ‘S too soon." Miles put his less-brutalised hand on your knee, looking at you a bit more earnestly. "Gotta make it up to you, first.”

“Obvio.” (Obviously) You tried hiding your smirk this time, but he caught it anyway.

“Driving me crazy for no reason,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head. The few times you did speak Spanish, it usually wasn't to be sweet.

“A good crazy?” you tried, hoping he'd humour you a little. Maybe he could find it sweet?

“Ni hablar.” (No way.)

Sweet enough to kiss you, anyway. With his better hand, he held the side of your face by his fingertips, pressing a short, chaste kiss to your lips. The feeling was warmer than anything, and you were left with a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as he pulled away.

“Te amo (I love you),” he whispered with his own shred of a smile. You caught a glint in his eye before his expression faded into that same serious look. “I'll fix up, I promise.”

“No need to promise." With your thumb, you finally smoothed the crease between his brows — an old, shared habit. It made his expression soften a little. "Cause you will, and you’ll make it even further next time.”

“Right,” he agreed, hand still lingering by your jaw. “I will. Gimme a time out if I don’t.” A laugh escaped your mouth at that.

"Sure." You met him with your own chaste kiss, your heart swelling as you felt him smile a little against your lips. “I love you too, by the way.”

The record had stopped playing, ages ago, you noticed, and there was another stretch of silence. Total silence, actually — it had stopped raining entirely.

“We should probably head back,” Miles stated as he looked out the window with you, before getting up with a bit of a groan. The two of you needed rest, especially him.

“Yeah,” you murmured, reaching for your jacket. “I mean, I sort of… snuck out.”

His silence made you turn back, only to be met with an unamused look. You tried not to laugh again. “So you’re sayin’ we’re both dead.”

“Pretty much.” He rolled his eyes at your sheepish smile, but you caught the corner of his mouth lift up as he turned to the door. It wasn't like the two of you hadn’t snuck out before — this was just like all those other times, just more… unplanned.

The night time air was strangely cool and breathable as you left the warehouse. Though the concrete was slippery, and you and Miles had to hold onto each other to not fall, Brooklyn was glimmering almost ethereally by the moonlight, the sky clear with any lingering clouds now gone. You hooked your arm in Miles' arm, his hands loosely tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. He’d have some explaining to do to his mom about his hands, and you’d have to creep back into your apartment as quietly as possible — but right now, in the silence hum of the city, you felt that things would be okay. Maybe they weren’t excellent, or ideal right now, but okay was a good start. The Prowler was a thing of the future, albeit near future. Right now, it was just you and Miles Morales, going home together past your curfews.

Ping! Ping Ping Ping Ping Ping Ping—

Way past your curfews.

At the same time, the two of you pulled your phones out, only to be bombarded with notifications of missed calls and texts. You were a short distance away from the warehouse now, and your phones had only just gotten signal. It was 1:02am, and you had walls of texts asking you where the hell you were and to "get your ass home right now" on your lock screen. Miles gritted his teeth, and you didn't want to think about what Rio had to say.

As the pinging died down, your eyes met, the both of you thinking the exact same thing:

“We’re so dead.”

You shot a quick message back and mental prayer, Miles doing the same before hastily linking arms with you again. He returned your sheepish look with his own as the two of you kept walking, trying not to slip in the puddles. It had already been a long night, and it was about to get way longer, but at least you could have each other’s company.

"~All my life, been a dreamer..."

"~Dream on... dream on..."

After all, you could guess that a lot more than just a “time out” was waiting for you at home.

"~Maybe somewhere... maybe somewhere..."

🕸️🔭👾

↑ the song! bobby bland 🔛🔝

felt a bit empty without a message hi this is vee it is midnight and i have to go to school in less than 8 hours ! thriving !!!! also if you're interested i have a post about just the au itself here <3

taglist (ppl who asked anyway 😭): @iissza

reblogs appreciated (like so much i literally melt and die) catch the rest of my atsv stuff here!

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biocrafthero · 5 months

Text

Why Sunny’s Halloween costume is a mummy instead of a vampire

Okay strap in guys this is a long one

(Under a read more because I have lost my mind)

(Also for some stuff I’m using Wikipedia as a source this isn’t a professional essay or anything)

Something I have noticed with Omori fans is that, much like with other fandoms, people like to assign fun Halloween monsters to their favorite characters. For a character like Sunny, I have noticed that many people opt to make him a vampire, which is a choice that seems quite understandable. The idea of the modern vampire can be traced back to many different authors, the most popular one in the minds of most being Bram Stoker’s Dracula, which was published in 1897. Some of the visual and behavioral trademarks of a vampire has to do with things such as aversion to sunlight, pale skin, fangs, and the need to feast on the literal blood of others to stay alive. Vampires have always been considered undead, which aligns with their history throughout folklore; there were several instances where corpses were staked after being accused of vampirism.

Reading this, its easy to see why fans would assign a character like Sunny to the idea of vampires based on all of the common traits of vampirism. However, while I do enjoy AUs and such of a vampiric Sunny, I disagree with this common interpretation and instead propose the idea of Sunny being associated with a different kind of undead monster: the zombie.

(“But Kaun, didn’t you say in the title of this post that Sunny is associated with mummies?” Yes, but we’ll get there.)

The origin of the zombie can be traced back to several different sources throughout the world, the most well-known one being Haitian folklore during the 19th century. Regarding modern depictions, popularized by the film Night of the Living Dead, zombies tend to be slow, rotting, human undead (while it must be noted that undead animals isn’t particularly uncommon either). Much like vampires, zombies need to consume humans to survive, but the difference is that, while vampires only need blood in most depictions, zombies tend to eat all parts of the body. The idea of the brain being the specific target is something that’s only come up within the last fifty years throughout pop culture; adding to these newer additions, it was only within the last twenty or thirty years that the idea of the running zombie was introduced and subsequently popularized.

So what does any of this have to do with Sunny?

Well, thought Omori, we are shown clear evidence of why the idea of the zombie resonates with his character. The most obvious example is with Hellsunny, who can be found throughout the entire truth sequence, in some parts of Black Space, and in a very particular cutscene in the Hikikomori Route.

Now, while its easy for us to assume things from the POV of Sunny himself, sometimes its important to take into account the intent of the creator in order to interpret things such as this. So, once again, why a zombie?

Well, the choice of the zombie is quite obvious to me: the fact it is commonly referred to as the living dead. Now what does this allude to regarding Sunny? It most likely correlates with his emotions in the wake of Mari’s death, especially considering he’s the one who killed her in the first place. It is commonly said by people who have experienced the loss of a loved one feel as if they’re just drifting through life after their passing, and the same can definitely be said for Sunny. At the time the real world sections of the game take place, its been four whole years since the incident had occurred, and Sunny has both figuratively and literally wasted away in his own home. Characters comment on how he seems very skinny and/or frail, and how he clearly hasn’t been taking care of himself. In a way, its like a part of him died alongside Mari.

This is where we get to what some would consider to be an extension of the zombie archetype: the mummy.

Regarding its depiction in horror since the history of real mummies is an entirely separate conversation, the modern depiction of the (male) mummy can be found dating back to the 1932 film The Mummy. While most historical, real life mummies had their organs removed before burial, the mummy from the film (named Imhotep) was deduced to have been buried alive after it is discovered that its organs had not been removed at all. Now while the rest of the film’s plot isn’t quite as relevant to our analysis, I believe these details are important to note. The idea of the mummy being something sealed away, only later to be awoken again as some kind of living dead, is very interesting considering the parts of Omori that make this comparison to Sunny. The allusions to the idea of Sunny’s own home being some kind of coffin or tomb adds to these ideas.

This is why I think the vampire comparisons simply do not fit. The idea of the vampire inherently implies that the afflicted needs to take something from others in order to survive, and while the same can be said about zombies it must be noted that within recent years the idea of a kind zombie has been slowly making itself known. Additionally with mummies, aside from the blatantly orientalist bullshit regarding its history in pop culture, don’t tend to be depicted with having to consume any physical part of the human body (but physical violence in general is still on the table for them. They tend to be depicted as more on the level of vampires in terms of their intelligence).

In contrast, the living dead (referring to both zombies and mummies) tend to be much more passive. Most don't go out of their way completely to hunt humans, only hunting if one crosses their path—mummies even more so, with them not even needing human flesh to maintain themselves. When not hunting, these monsters tend to just... exist, not doing much of anything at all. They don't expend energy on actively looking for what they need to survive, instead opting for what they need to find them, wasting away all the while. And the thing is with zombies: they rot. They decay, bound by more realistic things than mummies are (which tend to be sustained my more magical elements in pop culture).

While the idea of having to actively go out and hurt others to sustain yourself is very interesting, when specifically regarding Omori’s canon, it doesn’t quite fit in line with Sunny’s character and his arc. In contrast, him neglecting his own needs and wasting away is more in-line with all of that, which is why he’s more commonly depicted as being a zombie or a mummy by official material.

I know this post is extremely long-winded, but I think this kind of analysis is very fun. Additionally, you don’t have to take my word as gospel, either. I enjoy AUs where Sunny is a vampire, since he’s in a position where he has to violate his own morals in order to sustain himself. I think it acts as a very interesting way to deconstruct his character, and to push him to his limits (including the brink of death if he refuses to hunt).

#rambles #omori #omori sunny #Omori analysis #I have clearly lost my mind and need to be sent to the nearest mental facility at once

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