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ichorai · 1 year

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the silent storm ; aemond targaryen.

pairing ; aemond targaryen x mute!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; aemond pays you a visit in the library and has a confession to make.

words ; 1.2k

themes ; fluff, mildly suggestive, established relationship (married)

warnings / includes ; mentions of killing/death/violence, reader is one of jasper wylde's many children, aemond being whipped for you <3 also he learned their version of sign language js for you, some kisses but nothing more than that, "i'd burn down the entire world for you" trope, lots of pet names :)

main masterlist.

The candle’s flame warbled as you set it down on the table, bathing the small corner of the library in a dewy, clementine luminescence. You narrowed your eyes at the frayed spines of the arranged historical books, fingers trailing along the dusty shelves.

After several minutes of debating between a tome on the history of dragonkeeping, and a lengthy volume on alchemic remedies, you settled on reading the latter for tonight. You eased down into a rickety wooden chair that did no favors for your back, flipping the old book open with a gentle smile, and began to read.

Not even ten minutes past, your husband’s voice drifted through the library, quietly calling your name.

You reluctantly pulled your attention away from the miraculous works of potions and brews depicted on the yellowing pages, and affectionately rolled your eyes to the side. It was an ongoing joke amongst the court that Aemond physically couldn’t be without you for more than an hour at once. The two of you were scarcely ever seen without one glued to the other’s hip. The Silent Storm and the One-Eyed Dragon, the lords and ladies oft called you and your husband.

With your father, Lord Jasper Wylde, being the Master of Laws, he was usually far too busy for the likes of you. Not to mention that he had four wives and twenty-eight other children to attend to—you were simply known as ‘the quiet one’ in your youth, which soon evolved to the Silent Storm when the court witnessed you beating up one of your older brothers with no restrain when you caught him stealing your coffers, where you kept your silvers.

Imagine your father’s utter shock when Aemond set his sights upon you, proclaiming you to be his almost instantly. Not even three months later, the two of you were wed, and you couldn’t be happier.

“There you are,” the prince said, eye lighting up when he caught sight of you. “I knew I’d find you here.”

You arched a brow. Don’t be so smug. I’m always here, you signed, hands motioning languidly as your lips curved up into an amused grin.

Aemond moved forward to sit beside you, two of his fingers slotting beneath your chin to tilt your face up so he could plant a sweet, chaste kiss to your lips. “Yes, yes, you and your beloved books. Hardly a second goes by without your nose buried between pages.”

A humored huff fell from your lungs. You lifted your hands. Sounds like you’re jealous.

Your husband watched you sign, before scoffing. “Me? Jealous of books?”

Worry not, husband. I love you more than I love the library, I promise.

Ironically enough, right after you gestured out your reassurance, you turned right back to your book and began reading once more, missing the tilt of Aemond’s head and the widening, lovesick smile curving the corner of his mouth upward.

“What are you reading?” he asked, peering over your shoulder, before softly laying a kiss against the slope of your neck, lips brushing against the cold metal of the necklace he’d gifted you on your last name day. You smelled of lavender and honey, a scent he’d give anything to drown himself with.

Alchemy, you responded.

“Apologies, my love, I’m afraid I don’t recognize that word,” Aemond whispered into your skin, not unkindly.

You turned back to your husband, eyes soft and patient. You spelled it out for him, having to lightly swat his face away from your neck with a silent laugh just so he’d be able to concentrate.

“Ah, alchemy,” he mumbled, voice rife with affection, drawing you closer to him. “What have I done to deserve someone equally intelligent as they are beautiful?”

Instead of responding, you leaned forward to kiss him, his lips melding gently over yours. You pulled away to plant another kiss to the side of his nose, and a final one right below his leather eyepatch.

I love you, Aemond signed to you, before pressing his enclosed fist right above your beating heart. “Avy jorrāelan. I would burn down the entirety of Westeros at your behest, jelmāzma.” Storm.

I’d rather you not, but thank you for offering, you replied, brows pulling together incredulously and your shoulders shaking with muted chuckles. A brilliant smile flickered over your expression, the shadows of your face elongated with the candlelight. What brings about such a… violent sentiment?

A beat of silence. Aemond seemed hesitant, his hand coming forth to lovingly stroke your cheek, thumb running along your jaw.

“Promise you won’t be mad at me.”

You blinked at him in a miffed fashion, then narrowed your eyes accusingly. What did you do?

Aemond winced. There was a reason why the court called you the Silent Storm. “Promise me first, darling,” he said, trying his best to placate you.

Fine, sure, I promise. Your gaze was sharp, and Aemond already had a feeling that your words were empty.

“Well, I was training with Criston when I overheard two bumbling, foolish lords passing by—and they were talking about you. Naturally, I stopped sparring and listened to their conversation. It was… an improper debate about whether or not you’d make sound in bed.”

You sighed, used to the giggles and whispers behind your back. The lords and ladies often forgot that just because you were mute, didn’t mean you couldn’t hear them, either.

You killed them, then?

“I killed them,” Aemond confirmed, looking none too sorry about it, either. “Slit both of their throats. I couldn’t stand by and just listen to them insult you in such a way.”

They were jesting! you hurriedly signed, frustrated that your husband had taken such drastic measures without confronting you first. That is what men do, they jest and they speak ill-will and they are pigs about it! There is naught that we can do about their behavior other than a slap on the wrist—you cannot just kill anybody who gets on your nerves! Swear that you won’t do it again. Swear it, Aemond!

“But they were—”

You held a warning finger up, effectively halting him in his protests. The glare you had fixed on him held the intensity of a thousand hurricanes. And what was a dragon in comparison to the might of a storm?

“Yes, my love,” Aemond reluctantly said, biting down on his tongue.

The anger melded over your visage seemed to melt away at his relatively easy acquiescence.

Good boy, you teasingly signed, which earned you a light, ticklish pinch of retaliation to your side. I love you, too, by the way. But if you take another undeserving soul again—I’m going to have to reconsider.

A deep hum fell from his throat, and you were about to gesture some more warnings (borderline threats), but the thoughts were dashed from your mind when he surged forward to kiss you, pushing you up against the bookshelf. His large, spindly hands splayed over your waist and curved along your back.

“Alchemy can wait, can’t it?” he murmured into you, nearly dizzy with yearning.

You shook your head with an exasperated beam, before pulling him forward by the lapels of his coat and slanting your lips against his once again.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond fluff #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfiction #hotd fluff #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon fluff #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen

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tarot-archives · 1 month

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Can I get a uhhhhhh laios with a guy/gn reader who has an equally autistic special interest in general biology and ecosystems that would 100% encompass monsters as well? Asking for a friend that just happens to be me (stg idk if I wanna smooch laios or be him tbh lmao)

an: though i haven’t written for an autistic yn, i’ll try to make it realistic. if i’d done something wrong, please tell me. i focused more on general dungeon ecology for y/n.

if marcille is studying about dungeon ecosystems while laios is more interested in monsters you would be the best of both worlds.

there’s just something thrilling about dungeon ecology, how it all interacts, every thing that fall under it and so on and so forth.

you’re a tall-man researcher, using every bit of your time to find out more about dungeons, and not just the ones in melini. it would have been good to join the magic academy, but since you don’t posses any talent for magic, you can’t enter.

it made you sad since they had a dungeon making class.

nevertheless, it won’t stomp your dreams of researching! you’ve read and copied countless of books you can get your hands on. eventually you settled in meleni where a newly discovered dungeon was found.

your room was filled with countless of journals, trinkets from dungeons and volumes of books you read many time before.

and on your first dungeon party, you were very ecstatic. too bad you had to leave because they’d only go to the easier upper floors. you wanted to head to the lowest level after all!

and that’s where you meet up with the touden party!

you will love marcille’s vast dungeon knowledge. she would love to teach you new things. much to chilchuck’s dismay, you have boosted her ego. endless praises for marcille and simply doting around her because she’s filled with knowledge.

“ah, long lifespans are so great. i’d spend all my life dedicating to dungeon ecology if i could” -y/n after every lecture apparently.

then monster facts with laios will be endless. he lent you his dungeon food guide and you surprisingly have a copy too! you took notes from the things he had written in the margin. much to chilchuck’s demise (again) both you and laios keep on talking and he can’t sleep :((

“eating monsters? can’t say i have thought about it, but do you ever think about their nutritional values? the high level of mana concentration must vary from non-dungeon born same species! This needed to be compared and studied!” -y/n when laios introduced his monster eating thoughts.

toshiro will have another person to ask about his life in the east. but he likes how you keep more time to yourself writing in the journals. he finds your drawing to be artistic. after seeing your difficulties with papers, toshiro will teach you about yotsume toji—a book binding process from his country. he’s happy to see you using it after he taught you.

though you won’t talk with namari much, you admire he strength as a dwarf. she keeps her past to herself, which you at least respect. but you’d talk about the different weapons used and other things she did as a blacksmith. her knowledge on materials is very handy. you write about the different dungeon materials on your journal along with the best weapons against monsters.

chilchuck, our lock expert, and the most unknown member of your party… you admire his knowledge on traps and have written about his experiences with various dungeon traps and ways of disarming them.

falin, she joins you as you ask questions to marcille or laios. she listens to you talk about your dungeon experiences and she tells you about her’s. you let her read the journals you made along the way.

On the day falin was eaten by the dragon, your journal wasn’t transported with you. So now, you join laios to rescue his sister and to save you journals!!

Request? Open!

#laios touden x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #laios x reader #torta talks

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hiveworks · 9 months

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Interview with Mad Rupert, author of Sakana

September 2023

Sakana, the story of life and love in a fish market, is coming back from its hiatus soon! The strip comic style webcomic began in 2010 and follows Jiro, Taisei, Yuudai, and Chie as they navigate their relationships and learn to face their feelings. We asked creator Mad Rupert, author of Robber Robert and artist of Bunt!, for an interview to celebrate the series return.

Read Sakana | Shop books & merch | Read more Hiveworks comics

Sakana has been your baby for 13 years. What has the webcomic journey been like for you over the past decade?

It really has been over a decade, hasn’t it! There have certainly been ups and downs, periods where I was updating as much as I could, and also long hiatuses. I feel like webcomics have always been an amazing space to practice my craft and stretch my writing and drawing skills alike. You can kind of do anything you like with webcomics, and oftentimes people come up with wackier, and imho more interesting concepts than if they were beholden to a large publisher. Not that I haven’t made my fair share of traditionally-published comics and graphic novels… but there’s just something so gratifying about coming up with your own wild story and working towards its end on your own time. Webcomics are incredibly tough and time consuming, but also the ultimate form of self expression.

What is the origin of Sakana? What made you want to tell this story?

Sakana actually started as a class project when I was a junior at the Savannah College of Art and Design. I had been accepted into the Sequential Art department’s yearly Japan trip to study comics and cartooning in Tokyo for a few weeks, and our final project was to create 11 comic strips based off of something that made a strong impact on us during the trip. We had visited the old inner market (now demolished) of the Tsukiji Fish Market at 4am one morning, and it was the most incredible place I’d ever been, so I decided to craft a short story that took place in the market. Beyond the first 11 strips, I decided to continue the story for as long as I could as a way to practice the comic techniques I was learning in class. That was over a decade and 600 strips ago! It really has become the most ambitious project I’ve ever undertaken.

Do you have the ending already written? Do you see a conclusion in sight?

Yes! I’ve always had something at least resembling an end in mind throughout most of the comic’s lifespan. For a long-format comic like SAKANA, I think it’s very important to have a rough ending planned out as early as possible, otherwise it becomes difficult to keep the narrative moving in a satisfying direction, drop little tidbits of plot that will pay off later, or even maintain your enthusiasm for the project. To be clear, the details of Sakana's “end” have changed many times, which is only natural with a very long project like this. But I’ve always kept crucial details the same: basically certain characters in a certain place at a certain time doing certain things (to keep from getting too spoilery haha.) HOW they get there, WHY they’re there, and WHAT exactly they’re doing will ebb and flow as the years go by and I myself get older and older. But having a general sense of the end in mind has kept things moving all this time. The story’s got one more volume to go, and then I’ll be done!

Your hiatus is a result of working on a traditionally published graphic novel, coming in 2024. Is there anything you can tell us about your book?

My new graphic novel is called Bunt! and it’s a collaborative effort between myself and my dear pal, Ngozi Ukazu (author of popular webcomic Check, Please!) Ngozi wrote the book and I drew it, and we’re both really proud of what we’ve made! It’s already available for preorder all over the place and it will officially be out in stores in February 2024. We’re really looking forward to getting out there this fall and winter and spreading the word about it!

You recently successfully completed a Kickstarter for an 18+ comic, Robber Robert, as well. What is it like balancing these different narratives, genres, and mediums of publishing comics?

It’s definitely been a struggle at times to balance everything, and I definitely don’t recommend working on 3 giant projects at the same time! I finally had to admit that I couldn’t do it all at once, which led to me putting Sakana and RR on hiatus to finish Bunt!, and then keeping Sakana on hiatus while I finished up RR. I really burned myself out on comics for a while, and it’s been a huge struggle to get myself back to a good place with my work. Finishing Bunt! and RR Chapter 1 has really helped reenergize me, but I can always feel myself trying to overload my work schedule again and again. It’s my greatest weakness as a professional artist.

What keeps you inspired?

Making something for myself, practicing my craft, and putting my own stories out there are all huge driving forces in my life. Learning to stop overwhelming myself with work has also helped a lot. Looking back on all the art I’ve made and all the different things I’ve tried makes me feel like I can do anything I put my mind to, so long as I give myself the time and space to enjoy the process.

Do you have any webcomic or graphic novel recommendations?

I’m a big fan of anything fantasy or sci-fi, especially if the narrative approaches the fantastical elements in a weird, unique, and kind of gay way haha. My favorite manga is currently Delicious in Dungeon, but I’m also a fan of historical series like Golden Kamuy and Bride’s Story. For webcomics, I love anything by Evan Dahm, like his long-format series Rice Boy and Vattu. As for Hiveworks comics, there’s too many to list individually but my current favorites are Fairmeadow by KP, and Tiger, Tiger by Petra Nordlund.

Any advice for new readers of Sakana?

I would say…despite its high page count, it’s not that long of a read! The strip format keeps it moving at a pretty quick clip when read all at once (but it certainly didn’t feel like that over the last 13 years updating one page at a time!) I know that the format and the black and white rendering might feel a little dated in the current era of Webtoons and full-color stories, but I’m too stubborn to change now, and I really appreciate anybody giving it a shot! Also, no matter who you are, or how much you dislike him in the beginning, Yuudai will probably be your favorite character.

You can read Sakana for free at sakana-comic.com and print books are available at hivemill.com

#sakana #webcomic #comic #webtoon #hiveworks #blog #interview

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maikissed · 1 month

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and the day after that, and day after that part 3

jude bellingham x reader in honor of this a-hole for scoring tonight and winning la liga (scandalous, cuz i'm a barca fan, don't jump at me) i'm turning sloppy with these continuations, not a fan of this one tbh. but i hope you'd like it a bit sorry for typos

! sexy times here

Blissful, sharply clutching at your heart but making you light in your limbs, almost tingling at the skin of your neck and your chest as you focused on it. But when you lingered there, trying to catch it to correctly define it, it stumbled you over, crushed everything in it’s path, like a sudden wave sinking you down, with the great power to swallow you whole. Something so gentle and delicate turning into a potent and striking feeling of absolute infirmity. The funniest and trickiest thing about these sensations was that they turned, switching places, changing their courses, making you fall and fall all over again. Like at the end of it, at the moment when the sweet feeling was supposed to end for the other, the more prominent one, to take place, you took a minuscule step and stumble. Fell into it. An elation. That how you’d call it, you realised, as you noticed your chest rising sharply under your sight. Your eyes on him this whole time, innocently observing him making a simple conversation with his friends just few meters away. He smiled at something and it took you a short moment to realise that the corner of your mouth rose a little too at the sight. That’s when he looked back at you, his bright smile turning into a more tender one when he caught your eyes. And those mad stirs fumbling inside of you turned violent so unexpectedly, tickling, no, hitting you in your gut, making you almost stop breathing.

He winked at you then. And your smiled turned bigger. You reached for your phone.

still can’t wink, mate

You watched his expression change as he read your message. A smirk slowly appearing on his face.

Yeah? Can see you blush from here

You chuckled to yourself, biting your lip as you typed a response. Placing your phone back on your thigh you waited.

take me home?

It didn’t take him long to approach you, of course. His hand extended to you to help you stand.

There were boundaries set at the very beginning of the new course you decided to take your relationship on. You had been indisputably terrified of many repercussions that might came if you made a mistake. Still not many knew, it was just Mia, really, but your trip to Madrid has already spoke volumes. At least you suspected it has. Wanting to take it as slow as you can you put the boy in a constant state of suffering, denying him too much physical contact in these last few months. You perceived it wise, he considered you cruel.

“Want something to drink?” Jude asked as you entered the saloon.

“I’d love some lemon water” you answered softly, taking your shoes off “Iced, if you please”

“Yes ma’am”

You sent him a playful smile, heading to the balcony. Of course one fell quickly in love with the pleasant weather in this country. Though the midday heat was a lot for you, you enjoyed the still lukewarm, now almost refreshing breeze coating you after the sunset. You hummed at the contact of your bare feet with the still warm tiles, resting on one of the chairs.

“Don’t rock on your chair” you could hear Jude’s voice when he joined you, your head thrown back as you succumbed to a peaceful night coating you soothingly.

You smiled at his reprimand. Then you heard him placing your glasses on the table, and then you loosed your balance. A sharp yelp left your throat at the feeling of falling, but when you opened your eyes you spotted Jude’s wide, playful smile centimetres from your face, his hand at the back of your chair. You gasped quickly realising he tricked you, pulling the chair further back. And of course it wasn’t the first time you let him fool yourself like that.

“You prat!” you swat at his hand and he just laughed at your reaction.

“Oh is it so funny?” you jumped from your sit to throw more punches his way.

“Yeah, your little squeak was ridiculous” your eyes widened at his comment.

You swung your hand with intention to hit his bicep once again but he blocked it before you could reach it, grasping your wrist in is grip. Being stupid enough you brought your other hand to action but he captured it too, stopping your attack altogether. When your heart slowed down a little you just huffed, feeling laughter filling your lungs as well. This time you didn’t stop to consider, simply leaning in to kiss him on the lips sweetly, your hands still in his hold, close to your head. But you had no intention to continue, pulling away from him when he begun to chase you.

“What?” he laughed and you beamed at the joyful glint in his eyes “You consider this a payback?”

“Yes, I always win, Bellingham”

“Oh, we’ll see about that” he lowered your hands but still kept his fingers wrapped around your wrists.

With a gentle push he forced you to step back and a chuckle left your lips uncontrollably when your back collided with the railing behind you.

“What are you doing? You’re not getting a kiss this way or another” you said feeling him stepping into you, the closeness fogging your brain just a tad.

“I’ll take it different way then” he bit back with a smirk and you hummed with a sneer.

You flinched and giggled when he started peppering barely there kisses on the skin of your neck. And when you curled your neck to make this task difficult for him, and because of the reason that his nose quickly following the trace of his lips on your skin made you incredibly ticklish, he let go of your left hand, using his fingers to remove one of the straps of the dress you were wearing. So when he reached your collarbone he slowed down, using his tongue at the swell of your breast that appeared after the top of your clothing slipped lower. He took his time, you realised with a deep breath, moving to the other side. The feeling of a scrape of his teeth on your shoulder surprised you, so you looked down to spot him biting on the material of the other strap of your dress, slowly dragging it down your arm. You giggled.

“I’m happy to keep you entertained” he murmured between kisses he caressed your skin with on his way up.

“Oh, I love watching your attempts” you bickered.

A bright blink in his even darker eyes made you shiver and you were mesmerized. Your eyes glued to his beautiful face, full lips just slightly parted, all his attention on you.

“Oh yeah?” he smirked “You look a little breathless, love”

Something in your chest squished at the way he accented the sweet little name he called you and you swore to hell you blushed right now. You could feel your cheeks heating up. What were you? Twelve? Maddening, at this point.

And any words you wanted to voice out, you didn’t even remember them, died at your tongue as you realised his hands were lower now, slowly grabbing another fold of your long summer dress to reach your skin underneath. You anticipated, focusing on the sensation of light air kissing another part of your legs as the material rose up with another grasp of his hands. You blinked, keeping your eyes keen and hard in contact with his when his fingers reached the delicate skin on your thighs. He hummed, content with the feeling, bringing his attention back to your neck and chest.

“Suddenly so quiet now” he muttered into your skin.

“’m waiting for something interesting” breathless, indeed.

That’s when his hands glided up to sharply grab your bum, pressing you tight against him, the feeling of his hard on prominent on your stomach. And the movement met with the lick of his tongue in the valley between the top of your breast. You moaned grabbing the railing behind you with one hand, the other placed on the crook of his neck. So when he kissed your throat you opened your mouth for him, ready, wanton for him to kiss you now. He did, and it was rough and forceful and you loved it. With a quick grip on your thigh he hiked up your leg to rest highly on his hip, the skin uncovered now. You rose slightly on your left feet, searching for him, yearning for the right contact. He groaned into your mouth when you pressed against him, using your pelvis and your right leg now, almost wrapped around him. You worried for a moment that someone could see you this unveiled since you were out in the open. The property was well separated, but there still were neighbours in some distance and even worse, Denise on the other side of he villa.

“Ah, fuck” he sighted against your lips “Aren’t you a delight?”

You would answer to that, but he didn’t let you, using his hand placed on your lower back to press on you harder, grinding against you, and you whined pitifully, closing your eyes in the meantime. Chasing the pleasant feeling to wash over you. Your hands started wandering, slipping under his shirt, desperate to feel his skin, his muscles hard under your touch.

“Will you let me tonight? Will you let me fuck you tonight?” he mumbled when you pressed your chest against him, your lips centimetres away.

Your eyes opened, a little smirk dancing on your lips when your fingers grazed delicately his skin, just above the button of his pants.

“Take me to bed, Jude”

#football imagine #football fics #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham fic

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navybrat817 · 7 months

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Home Video

Pairing: Dark!Nick Fowler x Female Reader

Summary: Nick has the perfect movie to watch with you.

Word Count: 500

Warnings: Implied NONCON/DUBCON, held hostage, possessive and obsessive behavior, light pussy slapping, voyeurism of sorts, Nick Fowler (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: The Basement Spouses Writing Challenge Week 3! Character: Nick Fowler. Length: 250-500 words. Prompt: "Test me one more time and I won’t hesitate to wring that pretty little neck of yours." ❤️ A small follow up to See Through You. Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Nick fluffed your pillow with a smile as he finished setting the bedroom up for movie night. He told you he had a hectic day at work and needed to unwind. You glanced at the makeshift table beside the bed where the snacks and drinks were waiting, but made no move to grab anything. It wasn’t because you weren’t hungry.

It was because Nick decided to bind your hands before he did anything else.

He stretched out beside you, still dressed in his work clothes minus his jacket and shoes. You were completely naked, of course, since he liked you best without clothes. You missed being in your own bed, but you hadn’t been home since that fateful day at the carnival. It was difficult to even look at your own reflection without remembering how he fucked you in front of so many mirrors.

“I think you’re going to love this one,” Nick smiled as he pressed a couple of buttons on the remote, a familiar room showing up on the screen at the foot of the bed.

“Oh, my god,” you whispered as you saw yourself on the television, your body stretched out in your old bed as you touched yourself. You almost didn’t want to believe him when he admitted that he bugged your place. That he knew what you sounded like when you came. But his obsession and passion for you ran deep. “Nick-”

“Told you, sweetheart,” he groaned, palming himself as you tore your gaze away. “You make such pretty noises.”

“Turn it off,” you whispered, shutting your eyes when you heard yourself moan from the speakers. “Please.”

“Why would I do that? Listen to you,” he said, forcing your legs apart so he could slide his hand between them. You whimpered as he mimicked the motions he saw on the screen. His fingers were longer, his touch more possessive than your own. “Music to my fucking ears.”

“Stop touching me,” you demanded, trying to shut your legs.

“No, sweetheart,” he said as he turned the volume up, your cries building in the room.

“Shut it off!” you yelled over the sound. “Stop touching me!”

He took a breath before he removed his hand and licked his fingers in silence. Before you could sigh in relief, he brought it back with a hard smack to your pussy. You shrieked when he did it again. “Test me one more time and I won’t hesitate to wring that pretty little neck of yours.”

“Sorry,” you said immediately, shivering when brought his hand to your neck and rested it there. He promised he wouldn’t hurt you and you believed him. Was it a lie? “I’m sorry, Nick.”

A second passed before he chuckled, but you didn’t laugh with him. “Oh, sweetheart. I’d never hurt you,” he promised, groaning as he looked at the screen again. “But I will make you come harder than any of your toys ever could. And you’ll sound even prettier when you take my cock.”

He's deranged and I love him. 😈 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Nick Fowler Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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pandorasprongs · 1 year

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JAMIE TARTT | and i don't even like you that much. wait, i do. f*ck.

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

SUMMARY: jamie is actually a board game nerd and starts spending more time with one of the employees of a local shop.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: this idea came to me as someone asked me if i wanted to buy another volume of a board game we had HAHA if you can figure out what game i'm referring to in this story, hmu! alsooo i want to apologize for the length i swear i didn't mean for it to get that long, but still, i hope you all enjoy! title is from the song 'apple cider' by beabadoobee!

It was another slow morning in the store, given that most of your frequent customers were forced to be in school at this time. You ended up continuing one of the readings for your class during your shift. Despite a wave of drowsiness hitting you the moment you opened the book, it was still better having free time to be tired than the afternoon rush when 13-year-old boys came in to get another booster pack of Magic: The Gathering cards.

You were practically setting all these children up for a gambling addiction the way they'd spend 20 pounds trying to get one of those shiny ones in their deck. You never bothered to learn the names really, because that wasn't part of your job description. When it came to those kinds of things, those boys probably knew more than you did.

When it came to board games though, that was your area of expertise. It was partly one of the reasons you applied to work here while you were finishing up your Master's, — and also because of how generous the owner was with your salary, — so you always loved helping people out for their board game nights. You didn't have regulars that would come in often, but here and there, there would be a person you recognize from before asking about another game.

You don't know how much time had passed, but after deciding that your brain could no longer take reading the word cognitive multiple times in a sentence, you end up shutting the book and resting your head on the counter.

Soon after though, you hear the bell at the top of the door ring, causing you to jolt up. You only catch a glimpse of the guy walking towards you before he drops his head, his cap completely blocking his face, and a loose black hoodie covering his frame.

For a second, you get worried that the store was about to get robbed but the man finally stops in front of you and speaks, in a thick Mancunian accent. "Do you have any suggestions for board games? Like for family and stuff,"

You swear you've heard his voice before. Maybe from school? Or a former customer? You decide to shake it off before replying. "Well, this is a board game store, so there's quite a lot to pick from. Do you have any specific theme in mind? How many players?"

"There'll be 3 of us, but I'm not really picky with the game. Not any of those monopoly type shit though, cause I'm sick of never winning."

You chuckle at the revelation and that's what gets the man to look up at you. It definitely wasn't his appearance he was worried about. His chiseled jaw and striking blue eyes almost draw you in, not to mention his hairstyle looks eerily like the one David Beckham had in the 90s, who you had to admit was a crush of yours as a kid. He could even pass as a contestant on one of those dating reality shows.

And then it hits you where you've heard his voice before. This guy was on Lust Conquers All and was immediately voted off. You remember it well because your sister was so pissed at him for joining the show since the football season had just started. Jamie something, but the show never mentioned his last name. You try to hide your realization by turning to the shelf behind you.

"Alright uh, I’d recommend this one." You turn back around and slide it across the counter as Jamie (?) starts looking at the box from all angles.

"Looks cool," is all he says in reply and he looks back at you, presumably for you to explain the game. You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before going on your usual introduction to the game.

"Basically in the game, there are 4 characters you can choose to be your 'heroes.' Your main objective is to get your opponent's health to 0 using the different cards in your set. All the characters have different decks and skills you can use throughout the game, and some of them even have side kicks." You look back up for a second to see his expression and you can tell that you're still holding his interest.

"So for example in the one I gave you, you can battle Sinbad, Medusa, King Arthur, and Alice, who's fucking amazing, by the way."

"Alice? From fucking Wonderland?" You laugh at his surprise before nodding to affirm it. "She's your favorite then?"

"How'd you know?" You ask sarcastically. "But yeah, she's just really versatile and it's just really fun to shrink and grow every turn just to piss off the other players. I'm practically unbeatable using her." You admit though you're not really sure why.

Most of the time when customers come in here for a game, they don't ask questions and just buy the first one you suggest. That’s probably why you answered Jamie's question so earnestly. Cause he's the first one to ever ask you what you liked about the game.

You quickly run through the rest of the rules and mechanics of the game with Jamie chiming in occasionally. You describe the other editions as well and Jamie is tempted to buy the other one — "How is anyone supposed to beat fucking Dracula?" — before he ultimately decides to take home the one you offered.

"If I end up losing using Alice, you owe me a refund." He states as you ring up the game. You playfully roll your eyes as you scan the barcode on the box.

"Oh yeah, since you're the first customer of the day, you get a 7% discount on your purchase," you quickly inform him when you glance at the post-it note on the register screen reminding you about it in bold letters.

Instead of the usual gratefulness or blip of happiness from hearing that news, Jamie instead asks, "Is that really a thing or are you doing it because you know who I am?"

You look at him to check if he's serious and given his blank look, you assume he is. You don't know how to respond to that, so instead you just slowly shake your head.

"Wait, do you not know who I am?" His question itself comes off as arrogant, but given the genuine surprise in your voice, you're not sure how to feel about the guy after he says it.

You decide to answer him honestly. "I do, but given that you walked in here in clothes that make you look like a stalker who's about to rob the place, I didn't think you'd want me to make a big fuss about it, Jamie."

His shoulders seem to relax at your statement and once he goes quiet, he finally pulls out his wallet. You quickly place the game in a paper bag and hand it over to him.

He whispers a quick thanks and turns to leave, before pausing. He turns back to you, "Look, it's not like I'm dressed this way because I'm embarrassed to be in a store like this—"

"I didn't think you were," you answer blankly with a hint of sarcasm. You decide to mess with the guy a little bit because hey, when's the next time a famous footballer comes into your store again? "Why, is there something I should be embarrassed about?"

Jamie quickly shakes his head. "No, fuck no! I think it's cool, really. You know, being surrounded by all these games and cards and knowing so much about them. Especially someone like you,"

You tilt your head in amusement. "What do you mean someone like me?" Jamie's embarrassment only seems to deepen at that.

"Fuck I didn't mean it like that. Honestly, when I came in here, I was expecting some teenage boy to be at the counter. Wait no— I mean, girls can like all this stuff too! I just didn't expect someone attr—," he stops himself and shakes his head. "Shit, wait,"

You watch Jamie scramble for words and you decide to just put an end to his misery. "Look, look, I was just joking around. I don't give that much of a shit about what you said." The football player visibly relaxes and you hold in a laugh at that reaction. "And you're basically right about the kind of people who work here. Most of my co-workers can't work these hours right now 'cause they're off studying for their A-Levels."

"Yeah, well thank you for this," Jamie lifts the bag slightly and you give him a genuine smile.

"No problem. Hope you enjoy the game! And if you ever feel compelled to dress like a shitty robber again, you can come back and tell me what you think." Your sarcasm no longer throws Jamie off who instead, just playfully rolls his eyes and leaves the store.

You go back to your reading for your behavioral science class, putting your interaction with the football player in the back of your mind.

—

The next time you see Jamie is two weeks later, although this time, he comes in right before closing. Technically, you weren't the only one assigned for this shift, but you decided to let your co-worker go home early since he said he had an English exam the next day and still hadn't studied.

So, you were counting down the minutes to 8 pm when you hear someone come inside. Fucking hell. You force a smile, "Hi, welcome! We'll be closing in a few minutes, but please approach me if you need anything so you can have a speedier process."

"Are you really that desperate to get rid of me?" The person moves away from the shelves and turns out to be Jamie Tartt, you learn his last name is. He's wearing another grey hoodie but seems to have decided to ditch his hat. Good, because you weren't sure how much longer you could stare at the ICON written on it and not judge him. "I wanna know, did you think offering to help the customer would get them out of here quicker?"

"I had to try something," you defend yourself, shrugging. You notice Jamie carrying the bag you used to wrap the board game and slightly frown. "Didn't like the game?"

He follows your eyes and is quick to correct you. "I loved it, actually. First time playing a board game that Simon didn't win during the first round." You aren't sure who Simon is, but you laugh nonetheless. "And you're right, Alice is fucking unbeatable."

"I'm glad you liked it, and Alice," you start, but then glance at the time on your phone. "But, is that the only reason you came here?"

"Well no, I was wondering if you wanted to play. That's why I came so late, in case there would be too many people if I came at the usual time."

"Yeah, there was a fuck ton, actually, as you can tell from the fully stocked store." You say, pretending to look around the room. "But sure, if you want. I don't have anything going on tomorrow anyway," Now you're really glad that you didn't procrastinate that paper due tonight.

Jamie smiles as he starts to unbox the set and you grab one of the chairs behind the counter and push it to the other side for the footballer.

Never did you imagine you would spend a Saturday night with a hot football player playing one of your favorite board games, but here you were. In between one of the rounds, the topic of football is brought up and you admit that you don't know all that much about it despite your family being made up of fanatics.

"Everyone has their team they support. My dad loves Arsenal, my mum loves Chelsea, and my sister bounces between West Ham and Crystal Palace. Though, she fucking hates Rupert Mannion, so maybe this is the end of her West Ham support." You answer as you shuffle Jamie's deck.

"Shit, the season must be fun for you guys," Jamie remarks and you snort, though instantly regretting letting that sound out. The football player looks unfazed, so you decide not to apologize for it and answer his question instead.

"Yeah, I basically end up being their messenger till the finals, which ends up becoming World War 3 if their teams are competing," you hand him his deck back and start the round, but your conversation doesn't end there.

"What team would you support then, if you got into football?" He looks hopefully at you.

"Yours, probably." You confirm as you look through your first hand of cards. "I mean, I'm about to destroy one of their players at this game. It's the least I can do."

"We'll see about that," Jamie replies and you roll your eyes playfully, but you smile.

Working at the store meant you were surrounded by board game fans every day, but not even your regulars would come in here after your shift to play. You couldn't help but feel warm at how Jamie matched your enthusiasm about the game, something, you admit, you didn't expect from the player. You knew nothing would probably come from this harmless happy crush of yours, but if he decided to start coming in often to play, you wouldn't be opposed to it.

Your attention turns back to the game once Jamie picks his next move. He smirks at his decision until his expression suddenly shifts. "Wait, if you're not into football, how'd you know who I was the other day?"

You move your piece before looking directly into Jamie's eyes and respond, "I just really love trashy reality shows." Jamie playfully groans at the reminder and you burst into laughter before you continue the game.

True to form, whichever of the two of you uses Alice is the one to win that round. You finally decide on a tie-breaker with your favorite being banned from usage.

"Christ, if this is how you maneuver in a board game, I wonder how good you are at football." You tease, as you glance at his character being at only 4HP.

"I'm fucking amazing, actually. Ask your family, they'll tell you." Jamie moves a few spaces on the board, hoping to escape your Medusa, but instead, he falls into one of your traps.

You corner him and finally reduce his King Arthur's health. "And there you go, 3-2."

It takes Jamie a second to absorb everything before he slouches. "Fucking hell." You laugh before getting up from your chair and helping him keep all the pieces and cards.

"Better luck next time, Tartt."

Jamie, whose competitive side seems to be shining in this game, doesn't let it end there.

Almost every week, he would come into the store at night asking to play. He was definitely getting better, but after making a deal where the loser has to tell an embarrassing story after the round, you realize you know more about him than he probably does about you.

"God Jamie, how are you alive?" You ask as he shares a story from when he first started the league.

"How was I supposed to know doing multiple headers in one match could lead to a bloody concussion?" He retorts, only making your eyes widen even more.

"I'm pretty sure that's common knowledge to about 80% of the population," you say through your laughter.

It's almost 10 when you finish playing, so you grab your jacket and start heading to the door with Jamie. You lock the store up and notice that Jamie's still hanging around you.

It's dark outside, but it seems like his features were even more enhanced by the moonlight. The light hit his eyes just the right way that it made the blue more evident. You notice just then how his hair is neater today, mainly because of his sports headband. The front strands of his hair had fallen out it though, falling on his face in just the right way that it gave you butterflies. Did all footballers look this attractive?

You realize that you may have been starting a bit too long and as you tuck the keys in your jacket pocket, you decide to ask, "Need anything else?"

Jamie opens his mouth to say something, but instead, he just shakes his head. "Nothing actually, just good night," he waves and starts walking in the opposite direction, but you swear you hear him muttering something under his breath.

—

It had been a week since then and you had to start telling yourself to not be so excited when you hear the bell ring. Every time it did, you'd look expectantly at the door expecting to see Jamie again, asking for another or a new volume or even just game tips. Each time, you'd end up disappointed and would have to fake a smile to the customer approaching you.

This time you hear it ring, and you do your best to not look up. If it was Jamie, you knew that your boss George probably would be sounding an alarm. You only learned the Monday after that he was a major AFC Richmond fan when you mentioned that a football player had visited the store multiple times to play board games.

"Do you think we can get him to sign a picture and put it on the wall? Can you ask?" You quickly have to explain how those interactions were the only times you ever spoke to Jamie and had no actual way of contacting him.

As you close your laptop, — one more paragraph and that essay is done! — you look up to find two guys standing in front of you.

"Hi, do you have any board game recommendations?" the one on the right greeted, his accent quickly revealing him to be Welsh.

You don't have a chance to answer because the left one lightly elbows his friend before whispering (though loud enough for you to hear), "He already told us what to get, bruv."

You may not know who this 'he' is, but the guy pulls out his phone and shows you a picture of a board game, the same one you recommended to Jamie. Wishful thinking gets you to believe that they were friends of his and he liked it so much that he told them about it. And maybe about you, too.

You've never been so happy to be right.

You nod your head and as he kept his phone, you started pulling the same edition from the shelf behind you when you hear a screeching sound that almost made you drop the box.

"Oh my God, Colin Hughes, and Isaac McAdoo!" George exclaims and you wonder where you've heard those names before.

The owner joins you at the counter as you place the board game in front of you. Maybe you weren't pretending to be as peppy as you usually do, because George decides to ask, "How are you so calm? Do you know who these guys are? They're Colin Hughes and Isaac McAdoo!"

"I heard you the first time," you turn to the two guys once again, embarrassed on behalf of your boss.

"They're part of the starting team of AFC Richmond!" And that's when it clicks. On one of your all-nighters, you decided to take a break and search up Jamie Tartt just to see what you could find. You ended up at his club's website and saw the rest of the players as well. You didn't pay them much attention given that you were so focused on player number 9, but you saw enough pictures to recognize them, at least.

"So you guys do know Jamie," you think out loud and the two players turn to each other, before sharing looks of realization.

"Oh, you're the girl!" Colin exclaims and you can't help but feel butterflies in your stomach.

"Yeah, I guess so," you try and act as nonchalantly as possible, so neither of them picks up on anything. You turn back to the game and ask, "Is this the one you wanted?"

"Jamie said there were other versions?" Isaac asks and you nod your head to confirm it, which he smiles at. "We want the Sherlock one."

"Okay," you reach for that one on the shelf as George starts offering them discounts on the game.

When he almost offers to give it to them for free along with another set, you stop him by slamming the box on the counter. Why were you the one trying to keep his business alive? "Here it is, hope you enjoy it!"

You ring up their purchase, still trying to hold your boss back from scaring these footballers away before they can pay. You finally bag the whole thing and hand it to them. "Thank you!" you shout as they exit the store.

"Yeah, see you soon!" George says afterward and you look at him in confusion.

"What the fuck was that, George?" He only sighs, most likely the embarrassment only hitting him at that exact moment.

Once he goes back to doing inventory, you can't help but replay what Colin said. Oh, you're the girl! Why was such a simple phrase like that affecting you so much? For all you know, he might've mentioned you being a sore winner, which wouldn't be the first time you've been called that.

But you still hope he said good things about you and maybe even kept better things he thought to himself.

—

"Okay, time's up. Please pass your papers." You write one last word as you get up to give your exam to the proctor, sighing in relief that the semester is finally over.

You had asked for leave for the past few days and didn't have a shift until tomorrow, so you decide to treat yourself to some coffee and pasta for lunch at the campus cafe.

As you settle down at one of the tables, you get a phone call from George. He was more than happy to let you take the time off, so you wonder what emergency had to happen for him to contact you.

As soon as you pick up, George screams your name into the phone. You pull it away from your ear for a second, and respond, "What? What do you need?"

"Look, I'm sorry to disturb you on your day off, but you said that your test ended at 2:30, so I decided to hold off calling you till then. Anyway, someone came in a few days ago asking if we host board game nights."

"And we do," you answer for him as you chew your sandwich.

"Right, and then he said that he was from AFC Richmond." You flinch after imagining how your boss could've reacted at that revelation. "They wanted to hold it a few days ago," George pauses.

"Why didn't you say yes? You could've been game master."

"Yeah well, I wanted to, but they specifically asked for you to go." You put down your sandwich and straighten up. George continues, "I told them you were on leave, but they said they could wait till you were back at work. I said that your test was this morning and I would ask if you'd be willing to end your leave early."

"Okay, sure." You answer, a little faster than you intended. You couldn't believe that the team — and maybe even Jamie personally, — was willing to postpone their game night just so you would be the one to facilitate it.

The surprise was evident in George's voice. Normally, you would reject his idea the moment he mentioned board game nights, but something about this was different for you. "Oh okay, well, I'll send you the address. I'll be bringing the boards there since you don't have a car and I'll meet you there at 4 pm. It's a restaurant, so maybe you can get something to eat before 'cause shit can get crazy at those things and it's best to load up."

You don't know how a board game night could get crazy, but you decide not to comment on it. He sends you the details through text before you end the call and continues eating your sandwich. The place wasn't too far from campus, so you didn't have to rush to get there. But after 10 minutes, you consumed your sandwich and were out the door with your coffee in hand.

While walking, you decided to familiarize yourself more with the players trying to put names to face before you had to interact with all of them at once. You started to get the hang of it, — even looking at team photos and naming them one by one as a test — as you get to the venue at around half past 3.

You arrive at a restaurant called Ola's, and you remember seeing one of the Richmond players post about it. Your dad wanted to have dinner here once, but they were always fully booked so the four of you gave up trying to get a table there.

Because of that, you expected the place to be swamped with customers, but instead find an almost empty restaurant. You notice one guy standing in the middle of it and approach him.

"Hi," He turns around and you recognize him as Sam Obisanya, meaning he must be the owner. You introduce yourself quickly before asking, "Am I at the right place? I'm here to help host a board game tournament."

Sam's eyes widen as he seems to recognize you. "Oh yes, this is the place. Sorry, I didn't expect you to be so early. We already fixed up the tables, but I can also help in setting up the boards if you like."

"Ah no, it's alright. My boss is the one who’s bringing them. I came from my university, so I don't have any of them on me right now." You quickly explain and Sam nods as he leads you to one of the tables to relax, while he grabs some appetizers from the kitchen.

He makes his way back to the table, though he can't seem to stop looking at you. You subconsciously start fixing your hair, wondering if you should've gone to the bathroom before going in here.

He seems to pick up on this and is quick to reassure you, "Oh, I'm sorry for staring. It's just Jamie has mentioned you so many times, so it's nice to finally put a face to the name."

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of the football player. You grab some of the food he offered as you reply as calmly as you can, "Oh yeah, did he tell you how he is nowhere close to beating my number of wins?"

Sam lets out a short chuckle. "No, but I'm not surprised. He did say you're very good at it." You smile and decide to ask why they decided to do a board game night.

It takes a second before Sam replies, "Oh well, Coach always says to do team-building activities every once in a while, and seeing as Jamie has asked almost everyone on the team to play the game at least once, we thought it would be a good idea. I think Isaac and Colin got their own board too and they started bringing it to the clubhouse."

"Shit, I didn't realize that football players loved board games so much," you remarked as you hear the door to the restaurant open.

Both of you look up to see George, who is trying to carry 12 boxes of board game sets. You rush out of your seat to help him out and so does Sam. The sight of the player almost makes your boss drop all of them from his arms, but you quickly scoop four of them and Same takes another four.

"Sam Obisanya," George exhales, once some of the weight is literally lifted off him.

The player simply says, "Hello," and states that he'll start setting up the four boards on the tables near the back.

You snap your fingers to get George out of the trance and the two of your start setting up on the rest of your tables, dropping the character figurines at the bar table and putting the sign-up sheet next to it. Slowly, the restaurant starts filling up with players with George gradually losing his mind at the number of footballers from his favorite team.

You finally get him to leave, but only by promising to convince the team to take a picture with him when he came back to pick up the boards. You're pretty sure he's already making plans to put it on a canvas and hang it on his bed.

You settle yourself behind the bar table to be in charge of the players setting up, each time expecting it to be Jamie standing in front of you. You try and keep your focus on the task at hand every time you hear the boys greet someone new.

Isaac and Colin are the next to write their names and they give you a look that you can't quite decipher. Soon enough, Jamie finally gets here and you straighten up in your seat. He greets some of the players till his eyes land on you.

He approached the bench and once he looked up, he observed out loud. "You're here,”

"Aw, did you want to get rid of me that badly?" You mimic him before explaining that you finished your leave earlier, "just to see you, of course." — with some truth behind that statement. Jamie laughs — albeit, a little awkwardly, — and takes the clipboard. As he signs up, you decide to take the chance to tease him. "Heard you were talking about me to your teammates."

Jamie's eyes widen and he stops writing to shoot glares at the rest of AFC Richmond, not sure who told you. Jamie turns back to you and you laugh. "Don't worry, Tartt. I'm sure you just told them how I'm an absolute god at the game and you're glad I'm not playing tonight." The football player simply rolls his eyes as he joins his teammates.

Once the whole team is complete along with their kit-man Will, you decide to start the tournament. "Okay, hi everyone! Welcome to your board game night." The crowd cheers and you're startled by their enthusiasm. You quickly explain the rules of the night, — though they seem to already know most of it, — and the order of players. It's a draw lots method, so the players will be randomly given a character and an opponent.

Once everyone gets their characters and settles in, you start making rounds in case anyone had any questions. After a while, you start heading back to the bar when someone taps you on the shoulder. You find Jamie already done with his round.

"How'd you win that quickly?" You don't try to hide the surprise in your voice. "Even I take like 20 minutes minimum to win."

"Oh I didn't," Jamie clarifies, and you widen your eyes. "I just couldn't attack Dani. I mean, look at that face." You turn to their table and find Dani smiling at you — "This is fun!" — and waving using his Dracula figurine.

You laugh at his reasoning. "Alright then, guess you're done for the night." You walk back to the bar and Jamie stops on the opposite side of it.

"You hungry? Sam said there's prepped meals in the back and since none of the games are ending soon…" Jamie offers and you obliged, seeing as this might be the only time you might ever get to eat in this restaurant. He grabs two plates from there and settles down next to you. Surprisingly, he managed to grab one of your favorite dishes. You remember mentioning to him that you had tried it at another restaurant in the past and loved it, but you doubt he even remembers it and dubbed it a coincidence.

You decide to keep the topic off board games and instead let him talk about what he's doing since he last saw you. Turns out they had multiple back-to-back matches, so practice was tight and he didn't have time to visit you. He also said the next time he did, it was one of your teenage co-workers manning the counter.

"Oh, Chuck! Yeah, he's pretty shit at board games." You say blankly while you shove another spoonful of food into your mouth.

"I ended up just buying a card game and leaving." Jamie continues and you laugh.

"Sorry, you went all the way there for just that. I go to class on Wednesdays, so I don't have a shift then." The conversation then shifts to your degree and you explain that you plan on becoming a psychologist.

"There is another upside to getting that degree too," Jamie chimes in, and you tilt your head. "You can fuck with someone's head while playing."

"Okay, psychology isn't mind control." Though, you think about it for a second. "But it is pretty close. You’ll be my first victim.” You make your sound more ghostly in that last sentence and Jamie pretends to act terrified and faint.

There is a short silence between the two of you when you realize that most of the rounds are done. You start organizing the next round and once the games start, the other players start going around and rooting for their teammates.

It leaves the area near the bar much more isolated and Jamie lowers his voice. "About that card game I got, it's pretty fun, too."

"Yeah?" You ask as you bring your plate back to the kitchen.

"Yeah. I'd love to take you out and talk about it," you stop in your tracks before turning back to the footballer who adds, “If you want."

You turn around to see Jamie is much closer to you now. It's only then you realize how much taller he was than you, but despite that, you’re not intimidated, especially with him looking so expectantly at you.

It takes a second before your mouth turns into a smile. "I think I'd like that."

Jamie does this small bounce thing on his heels, before trying to tone it down. You only laugh and kiss him on the cheek before heading to the crowd of players. He follows suit and rests his arm on your shoulders.

Some of his teammates notice and start cheering. You look at them confused before deciding to ask Jamie, "Was this all an elaborate scheme to ask me out?"

He shakes his head, "No, 'course not. Was there a deal made after I lost a game to Jan? Possibly," The both of you laugh as you playfully push his head away. You start to accept that this unfairly attractive football player — whom you'll be going on a date soon — can be as much of a nerd as you.

If this is what George meant when he said game nights could get crazy, well, maybe you should’ve given them a chance earlier.

#jamie tartt #jamie tart x reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt fluff #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfic

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Ranch Story Community Q&A Volume 3: Igusa Matsuyama Returns!

Igusa Matsuyama, the legendary artist behind the Story of Seasons series since the original 1996 game has once again agreed to a Q&A featuring questions from fans from around the world! A big thank you to all the members of the community who helped make this possible.

Some aspects of the text have been altered to match localization people are familiar with. (Japanese names to English names, for example: Bokujou Monogatari (牧場物語) was formerly localized as Harvest Moon and is now localized as Story of Seasons, etc). Images were not part of the original text and have been added as a visual aid. Though we translated as many questions as we could, we did not include questions involving personal information or regarding unannounced releases. Please understand.

If you would like to read our original correspondence (in Japanese), that will be provided in a separate post.

Additional cosplay photo provided by Foxface from our community Discord.

Translations: @artycharmy (correspondence, outline) Editing and Clean-up: Jerome, @artycharmy, and @regularcelery

——— Anonymous asks: What is the relationship between Jamie and the Harvest Goddess?

Igusa Matsuyama: Jamie was treated as a fairy or spirit. I'm sorry, but I'm not sure if there's any points that link them and the Goddess.

Editor's note: the term Matsuyama uses is "妖精."

Tomato asks: I would like to ask about what their inspiration was for the outfits designs in the original release of harvest moon another wonderful life. Since I got reminded of the girl clothing brand Mezzo Piano when looking at the I love Kuma/I love bears outfit.

Igusa Matsuyama: I remember the only thing I thought of was using Spring-like colours! (All designs were made with seasonal colours In mind) When I knew that Daachan, who was planned to be used in a lot of events, wouldn't actually play a big role in the game, I put him on the T-Shirt so he could at least get some attention as a mascot-like existence.

Pansy asks: If you were able to create your own game for the Story of Seasons franchise, with no rules or limitations whatsoever, what do you think it might look like?

Igusa Mastuyama: Since I love dogs, I'd like to try making a Story of Seasons that's set in a world just full of dogs. Though that dream of mine probably won't come true.

Anonymous asks: The look of Story of Seasons has changed a lot over the years! What would you say is more challenging to create - simple designs, where you have to work with very little space, or complicated designs, where you have to consider many little details?

Igusa Matsuyama: A long time ago there were a lot of things you weren't able to replicate in video games. There were constraints for things like the number of colours and patterns for hair styles and clothes. It was difficult to work around those constraints, but at the same time a lot of fun. Nowadays, it's the complete opposite. Now we can design anything with hardly any constraints. And unlike a long time ago, now I'm asked to make more complicated designs, like patterns and decorations. However, if it's a big request, sometimes I run into quite a lot of trouble when designing. They each have had their own difficulties.

Anonymous asks: Hello, Matsuyama! Thank you for bringing the worlds of Bokujou Monogatari to life for many years. Your art has had a huge influence on me!

One of my favorite candidates is “Rock” from “A Wonderful Life.” I’d love to know any particular influences for his character design from 21 years ago, and his new design for the remake.

Igusa Matsuyama: I was told that he was a young, wannabe playboy, so I somehow ended up with that sort of design. For the remake, I made his clothes a little looser without changing his design, so he'd look even more playful. I, too, wanted to avoid changing him as much as I could as there are other people among the staff that also like the original for his “Rockness”. So, he got that makeover after everybody shared and checked their opinions with each other.

Jerome asks: On page 130 of the "Special Comic" manga there's artwork of Super Famicom characters that have never been printed anywhere else. Do you or Marvelous still have these? It would be great to see them in more detail in the future some time.

Igusa Matsuyama: They're all characters that appeared in the SNES version of "Harvest Moon." Nina's parents, Ellen's mother, Ann's father, Maria's parents (The mayor couple). I'm sorry. My SNES illustrations have gone missing...

Raven Bloom, Ryan, and Moth ask: How did you feel when your designs for the men in A Wonderful Life were repurposed to be bachelors? What do you think of the changes made to the bachelors in the remake of A Wonderful Life? I miss the “Bruce Campbell” look Matthew used to have.

Igusa Matsuyama: Matthew (マシュー) is Masshu (マッシュ) in the Japanese A Wonderful Life (Editors note: Charmy made a careless mistake when translating the questions, sorry Matsuyama san 🫣) When I first heard this name, the first thing that came to mind was Evil Dead's protagonist, Ash. You're right. I designed him after Bruce Campbell. I still love Bruce Campbell today. When Wonderful Life was under production, I had heard they weren't going to make a girl version, so I designed him not as a love interest, but as a quirky character. Knowing that he'd appear in the remake as a marriage candidate, I redesigned him as a character that would be liked by many. I hope you can enjoy the game for its nostalgia, as well as for being a shiny, brand new release.

Salmon Axe and Anonymous ask: I personally adore Doraemon x SOS game. Are you interested in working directly with or collaborating with other franchises in the future? And is there a series outside Story of Seasons you would like to work with now as a guest artist? (Could it be Pokemon?)

Igusa Matsuyama: I've loved Doraemon manga since I was a kid! Working as a guest artist? Hmm, I'm happier being the main illustrator, so nothing in particular comes to mind. I enjoy a lot of games in my free time, such as Fallout, Far Cry and Border Lands.

Anonymous asks: Even though we never see his face, was there ever a concept of how Woofio would look without his costume?

Igusa Matsuyama: I designed Woofio as the being that is Woofio, so there's no design of him without his costume.

Idris asks: Your style has upgraded a lot over the time to match the trends. Do you think you will ever go for an old school look (early HM) for a SoS game again? What do you think is the secret to your art’s charm?

Igusa Matsuyama: What I'm particular about when designing for Story of Seasons is making characters with head/body proportions and an atmosphere that go well with that release. First, I listen to the client's request then think of a design according to that. These days, game visuals have gotten fancier and fancier, so there's not many opportunities for characters with short proportions to make an appearance. To me, what's important when designing is "playfulness." More so than "pretty" or "cool" and such, I get attached to the character, have fun making the character. I find joy in character creation itself.

MacGyver asks: Yasuhiro Wada has shared some interesting stories about how chaotic the original game's development was. Is there anything interesting you remember from around that time?

Igusa Matsuyama: Now it's a memory I can look back on and laugh about, but I'm not sure how much I can talk about it so please forgive me. If Wada hadn't been there back then, then "Harvest Moon" wouldn't have become a thing.

Toyberb and Anonymous ask: There’s a lot of different cow designs now, which is your favorite to draw?

Igusa Matsuyama: I've loved drawing animals since I was a kid, so I love all of the cows. Although the easiest one to draw is the cow with the big nose.

Anonymous asks: Were there any games where you made designs for protagonists of genders that did not end up available to play as? (Like a girl protagonist for Save the Homeland/Hero of Leaf Valley or a nonbinary protagonist for any game before A Wonderful Life)

Igusa Matsuyama: There's so many designs that got scrapped, but as far as I recall, there's not really many where that character's setting itself was scrapped. (Excluding Thumbelina, mentioned below)

Koharu asks: Were there ever any character designs made for other older SNES characters like Ellen for 64? Some magazines had Marie with blue hair, like the SNES character, so it made me wonder if she (SNES Maria) was meant to also be there at some point.

Igusa Matsuyama: I'm not in the position to make settings or scenarios where characters from other games appear, so I can't say, but I like the idea of older characters making an appearance!

Amina/k0iisu asks: Hello! I really love Hiro’s design specifically. Could you tell me a few facts about him/his design that might not be well known information? Thank you so much! I love your art :D

Igusa Matsuyama: Thank you very much! Hiro is a future doctor, so I tried to make them look as much like a doctor as I could. Also, to make him look friendlier, I designed him as your average everyday boy you'd see in the neighbourhood. He doesn't have a flashy face or hairstyle, but he's one of my favourite designs, too. I wrote this in the guidebook too, but what I like about him is the Asian flair I added to his clothes and the spot of colour around his feet.

Bunbun asks: I'm excited for the Nendoroid that was announced of Claire! I hope there will be ones of HM64 designs too. Since you have a lot of figures on your blog, how does it feel to be able to add one of your own characters to your collection? Are there any of your other characters you hope will get figures of?

Igusa Matsuyama: A nendoroid of Claire! I'm looking forward to it too, but when is it going to be released? If it's possible, I'd like one of Woofio.

Editor's note: Preorders are open for Nendoroid Claire now!

Chickee asks: A purple-haired princess character was rumored to have existed in Harvest Moon 64, but she didn't make it to the published game. Did you create a design for this character?

Igusa Matsuyama: That's probably Princess Thumbelina. Wasn't she Incredibly small? What I designed didn't end up being used. Speaking of HM64 characters, I pushed for them to include a pet turtle, but in the end it only appeared as an ornament. For A Wonderful Life, I asked for a turtle to be included again and designed a tortoise with a scarf, but it didn't make it as a pet and appeared only as a wild turtle that walks around the pond. I'm waiting for the day they finally include a pet turtle in the game.

emery flower147 asks: omg I saw the pics where the AWL girls are in a team and Muffy has a shotgun and stuff? Do you think any other characters would work in a cool team like that?

Igusa Matsuyama: For the Friends of Mineral Town guide book, I had the five girls, Popuri, Marie, Ran, Elly and Karen work hard as Harvest Sprites. Also, for the guide books, I drew Pete (The old male protagonist), Sarah (The GB version female protagonist), and Claire doing whatever I wanted them to. I don't know if you can call it cool or not, but it was fun being in charge of that.

Ixur asks: A lot of the PoOT character designs for the regular villagers seem more popular than the marriage candidates in my region. Is that something that's been noticed by you/Marvelous in Japan? Lars, Clemens, Beth, and Misaki for example.

Igusa Matsuyama: Marvelous doesn't really talk about that sort of thing so I'm not sure if they're aware of it or not. I don't do social media so I'm also not sure which characters are popular. I'm happy as long as the characters are liked. The design on Lars’s shirt is modeled after my beloved dog, so I’d be especially happy if you like his shirt too.

Anonymous asks: What do you think about people cosplaying your designs?

Igusa Matsuyama: It makes me very happy! I'm no good at sewing, so I really admire people who can make their own clothes. It's an honour having the designs I made be made into real clothes, and I think it's great to have fun acting out the characters.

Afro Fae asks: When creating designs for characters, how do you settle on a specific color palette? Do you take color meanings into account with a character's personality or do you go purely off of feeling?

Igusa Matsuyama: I keep in mind the overall colours the client asked for while designing. Sometimes I propose a new colour when I think there's one that fits better. I'm also careful when choosing colours and everyone's traits to make sure it's easy to tell which character is which when seen from a distance. However, in the cases of families and such, I do the opposite and give them all a common colour to give them a sense of kinship.

———

From all of us at Ranch Story, we'd like to thank Matsuyama from the bottom of our hearts for answering our questions again! Whether a fan has only just discovered the series or has grown up alongside it, so many people have loved these characters and worlds that Igusa Matsuyama brings to life, so it feels truly special to be able to have this opportunity. We'll end this article with Matsuyama's own words, as well as a parting gift.

Igusa Matsuyama: I'm so glad I could answer your questions again. I'm the one that should be saying thank you. It means the world to me knowing that everyone enjoys my illustrations! I added an illustration as thanks. I'll keep up the hard work!

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meluiloth · 2 months

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For @silmarillionepistolary day 7, Remembrance and New Beginnings! Artwork at the bottom.

Night has fallen. The lamps have been turned low, the house cleaned, the bedtime routine completed; all Maglor and Maedhros have left to do is tuck the twins and read them their customary story.

They look so small wrapped in the red wool blankets, like two little birds in a crimson nest. They are quiet, too, waiting patiently for Maglor to ask his routine question: “Now, what story would you like tonight? Or would you rather hear a song?”

“I want the one about the Sun and the Moon!” Elros pipes up, scrunching the blanket in his hands eagerly.

Maglor smiles. “Is that what you want as well, Elrond?”

Elrond, the quieter twin, looks bashfully down before murmuring, “I’d like to see the picture book…”

Maglor shares a confused look with Maedhros. They did not own any picture books. “What do you mean?” Maedhros asks.

Elrond tips his head. “The one in your study,” he says. “It’s got gold string around it and lots of pictures on every page.”

Maedhros frowns. “You know you are forbidden from entering my study,” he reproaches.

Elrond bites his lip. “Yes, I know … I just saw the pictures and thought they were pretty.”

Maglor sees the telltale signs of a lecture in Maedhros’s expression, so he swiftly says, “Perhaps we can excuse it this once, if you promise to ask before you touch our things.”

Both Elrond and Elros nod emphatically, and Maglor leaves the room to search for the ‘picture book’ in his brother’s study, which is packed with volumes, scrolls, and papers. Maglor thinks it will take him forever to find the book Elrond described, if it exists at all, but surprisingly he easily locates it in the first bookshelf: a worn book of red leather, tied with a fading gold ribbon. It is familiar to him, but he cannot recollect why until he brings it back into the twins’ room. Maedhros’s eyes widen when he sees it. “Grandfather’s sketchbook? I thought that was lost ages ago!”

“It was in a box in the back,” Elrond supplies.

Maglor looks down at it, a stab of nostalgia and old grief passing through him. “I thought we never even brought it,” he murmurs.

“Can we read it?” Elros asks, leaning forward curiously.

Maedhros frowns, his reluctance clear. There are many memories neither of them want to relive, the life and death of their grandfather among the most heartbreaking. But many of the memories Finwë recorded in his beloved sketchbook were his happiest, from both his life and the rest of his family’s. And the two young children looking up at Maglor are also Finwë’s family … and he wants to share something of his life that is not just the blood on his hands.

The spine of the book cracks softly as he opens it, and the yellowed paper releases a small puff of dust, but the artwork on the inside is still as lovely and life-filled as the day he penned them.

Maglor explains each piece as he showed it to the twins, and lets them look as long as they like. Even Maedhros sometimes asks him to wait a little longer on certain pages, the heavy, dark look in his eyes brightening when he remembers his childhood in Valinor.

It is well past midnight by the time they reach the last pages, and all of them are surprised to see that they are all in full color, when all the previous pages have been only graphite sketches.

“Who are they?” Elros breathes, tracing his finger delicately over the meticulously painted faces.

Maglor swallows, his throat and his eyes clogged with tears. His brother, too, is at a loss for words.

“It’s them,” Elrond says, looking up at the Fëanorians and then back down at thd drawings. “Maglor and Maedhros are right there … but Maedhros looks different …”

It was true. Maglor and Maedhros, along with all of their brothers - still alive and smiling radiantly - and their parents. On the other pages, their cousins and uncles and aunts, before any of them had suffered the horrors of Morgoth.

“That is us,” Maedhros murmurs. “That was us then. We were so happy..."

“What was it like … then?” Elros ventures.

Maglor smiles. “I will tell you.”

“Tomorrow night,” Maedhros interrupts. “It is very late, and if you are to understand a word we say, you must be well-rested.”

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forever-once-gone · 23 hours

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Day 5: When they want a romantic night, and instead you’re obsessing over a fictional character; jealousy jealousy <3

Part of the Love, Amour, Aur Pyaar drabble series for February! (lol)

Word count: 0.8k, 0.7k, 0.9k, 0.7k, 0.8k, 0.6k, 0.9k (respectively, for a total of ~5.8k) again, wayyyyy too long :(

Content and Warnings: soft yandere (though can be read as not yandere, for most of them), love, jealousy, SPOILERS FOR JJK AND SNK (though I think everyone knows about the current state of jujutsu kaisen and shingeki no kyojin finished ages ago now), insecurity, threats from Y/n, Hoseok's section gets spicy, mature 18+ content, baby talk in Hoseok's, grinding, gn reader for most of them except Hoseok's where reader is very vaguely implied to be afab, kissing, throwing pillows, implied cosplay sex (?) for Namjoon, lingerie in Namjoon's, isolation from loved ones, UNEDITED (I thought this day would be pretty tame, but with with this big paragraph, maybe it isn't?)

Author's note: Beep beep boop. Beep boop beep. Beep boop. Boop beep beep. Boop. Boop beep boop. Boop beep boop beep beep. Boop beep boop. Boop boop. ...Enjoy!

Seokjin (ft. Levi Ackerman from snk):

“It isn’t fair, you know, the fact that he had to go through so much. He was humanity’s strongest but really he was just an abused boy who did the best he could. He deserved so much better. I mean, at least he didn’t die. God knows that Hajime Isayama loves to kill all his characters.”

Seokjin just gritted his teeth, keeping his eyes locked with the wall.

“But like, still, considering everything, if one person deserved a true happy ending it was him.” You waved around your hand like a professor emphasizing the point they were trying to make as the other flipped through the pages of the manga you’d been talking about for the past fifteen minutes.

“Like, at least most of the other characters from Paradis had somewhat normal childhoods. They had some sort of happy memories, but Levi never got to have that joy. Everything in his life, when he would begin to cherish them, would get snatched from him! Petra, Gunther, Eld, Oluo, Furlan, Isabel, Erwin—all taken from him!” You pouted as you gazed down at Levi’s bandaged face, your frown only deepening at the sight of his missing fingers.

In a hushed voice, you said, “if I were Isayama, I’d have given him the best ending possible.” Then you let out a sigh before moving on from the sad page of Levi’s injuries. “But then again, Isayama barely gives anyone a happy ending, so the fact that Levi even survives is a miracle,” you mumbled near the end.

Jin just hummed, refusing to give you any proper response.

Just how many times do you need to discuss Levi when he’s right there in front of you? Quite rude of you to be talking about some other man in his thirties when your boyfriend has been sitting beside you for the past twenty five minutes. This should be considered cheating right? Emotional cheating, as you gush over some other guy instead of your handsome boyfriend? Seokjin sure thought so.

“You know the manga has been done for years, right?” Seokjin couldn’t bother hiding his snippy tone crossing his arms across his chest. “Maybe it’s time you get over it, and focus on more important things.”

Your brows furrowed together, looking up at him for the first time since you brought down the small stack of manga volumes from your bookshelf. You were greeted with the sight of you boyfriend sitting at the absolute far end of the couch from you, arms crossed, back straight, as he glared a hole into the wall beside the tv. He refused to look at you, even though you were sure he could feel your gaze with how he momentarily shifted in his seat.

“What’s this ‘more important thing’ I should be focusing on instead of Levi?” you asked, as you shut the book and placed it with the others on the coffee table in front of you.

Seokjin just shrugged his shoulders. “Idk, maybe your handsome boyfriend who finally had some free time today? You know, maybe him?”

His lips were downturned again, as you moved to sit right beside him.

You tried to fight back your smile by pressing a finger to your chin as if you were thinking. “But Levi doesn’t have free time today?”

Jin turned towards you so quickly, you were afraid he’d pull a muscle.

You giggled at the affronted look he gave you, mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“I’m just kidding!” you defended yourself, trying to pull his arms from his chest but failing miserably. “I’m sorry, okay? My gorgeous boyfriend is you, and I shouldn't be talking about some fictional character when he’s gotten dressed up so well for me. Isn’t that right?”

You managed to pull his arms away from his chest to give you a view of the nice clothes he had put on specifically for you. He wore your favourite clothes today, hoping you’d fawn over him, only for you to spend the better part of the past while talking about some drawing from a book. He thought you hadn’t noticed the effort he had put into today, but hearing evidence if your absolute attention had red creeping up his neck and onto his ears.

You threw yourself into his chest, causing his arms to wrap around you to steady the two of you. You nuzzled into him for a few seconds before looking up at him with a small grin.

“I love you, you know? More than anything and anyone. And I care more about our happy ending than anyone else’s, even if it is humanity’s strongest’s.” You strained up to press a kiss against his neck which left a chill against Jin’s skin, before settling down in his lap. Pleasure coursing through you at the sight of Jin’s pleased smile from below.

His arms tightened around you before he bent down to press against your forehead. “As long as you know who matters most,” he mumbled against your skin.

Yoongi (ft. Blade from hsr):

You finished up the simulated universe world. Even though you hadn’t gotten great relics this time around, you still got to collect the weekly rewards, so you couldn’t be too mad. But you had to admit, it did sting a bit.

You switched back to the character screen after salvaging the useless relics that you obtained and checking on your stock of stellar jades. Blade stared back at you as you fussed with the relics that you had currently adorned him with and tried to level up the one promising relic you had obtained. When you ended up with defense being levelled up for the second time, you gave up on the relic, instead just salvaging it as well.

You sighed as you clicked back to Blade, seeing him stare back at you before performing his idle, bringing his sword up to his eyes, inspecting it before bringing it behind to his back as it disappeared into shiny gold.

“Bladie, Bladie, Bladie… Why is it so hard to find good relics for you…?” You rested your chin in the palm of your hm gazing lazily at your monitor.

Blade, of course, did not reply. Instead he stared right through your soul as if putting the blame right on you.

“Hmm… I was so lucky when building Kafka, but the relics just suck when I’m farming for you.”

You clicked out of the character screen and instead ran around the map with Blade, listening to NPC dialogue and fulfilling random small tasks for stellar jade. You were out of trailblaze power and had nothing of significance to do. So you just enjoyed watching Blade’s mechanics as he interacted (being pretty liberal with the definition of “interact”) with other characters and took in his visuals.

He was your favourite character when you first started playing honkai star rail, but with time you realized you should probably try and make him stronger with more elite relics. It was harder than you originally thought. And now, even after a month of only farming for Blade, you had yet to pull what would be a legendary relic for him.

As you lamented your poor luck, you failed to notice the door to your gaming room opening behind you.

Yoongi creeped up behind you, listening to the music streaming its way out of the speakers he got for your set-up on your last birthday. He wasn’t surprised to see a zoomed in view of Blade’s face on your screen when he peered over your shoulder. He had expected it as soon as he’d heard the hsr soundtrack.

He stopped behind your chair, starling you as he began to speak. “Here I was hoping to see my wonderful spouse after work today, but instead I see them on a date with some depressed guy in my own home.” He sighed for effect, placing his hands on the back of your chair as he leaned over you to look at your screen.

“Oh hush,” you told Yoongi.

“What? So I can’t even speak up when I catch you with your second boyfriend now?” He placed his chin atop your head.

You laughed a bit, jostling Yoongi around a bit. “Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt a date?” You finally played along.

“Not if it's between you and Blade, no it’s not. He doesn’t get to steal you away from me.” He wrapped his arms around your neck, holding you close against him almost as though he was pulling you away from Blade’s reach.

You held onto his arms as you laughed, feeling him press a kiss to the top of your head. Between laughs, you said, “Stop! You’re embarrassing me in front of my date.”

“Fuck your date.” He removed his arms from around you, spinning your chair around so you faced him. “You’re going on a date with me now.”

He pulled you up and out of your chair into his arms. He pulled you right into him until not even one air molecule was in between your bodies.

“Get dressed, I’m taking you out for dinner.” He reached a hand behind your intertwined bodies and turned off your pc with a pointed click.

He was willing to entertain your interest in other men so long as they were like Blade: fictional. The day he feels your interest swerving to real men, he wouldn’t take it so lightly.

Hoseok (ft. Choso from jjk):

“Look at him being all emo but so sweet!” you cooed at the man on the screen.

Choso was speaking to Yuuji about being brothers and just being all adorable, and it was getting on Hoseok’s nerves.

“Like when you look at him, you’d think he’s gonna be all grouchy or mean, but look at him—fuck, I’d ruin him.”

Hoseok’s eye was twitching.

“Like he’s so pure? But so hot? But so loveable? But so destroyable? I’d definitely ruin him.”

Hoseok’s blood pressure was rising.

“He’d be such a good father to my kids.”

Hoseok’s patience broke. “Well too bad Choso’s not real then since you wanna date him over me so badly!”

You jumped at Hoseok’s loud proclamation. You weren’t prepared for the enraged look on your sweet boyfriend’s face. Had you gone too far?

“I wasn’t being serious, baby,” you started, speaking as softly and level as possible. “He’s just a character that I find cute.”

Hoseok scoffed, his lips pulled into a frightening, annoyed half-smirk. “Yeah, a character that you want to have sex with.”

You placed a hand on his thigh, trying to calm him down. “Babe, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Pfft, so now you feel bad? Not when you were talking about how another guy was so hot and how you want to have kids with him? And how cute you find him? Do I mean nothing to you?”

Hoseok’s leg was shaking now, falling and dropping under your palm restlessly. You tried to smooth your hands over his leg to soothe him, but it only seemed to agitate him further.

He scoffed again, not even giving you a chance to defend yourself against his accusations. “You’ve never called me ‘destroyable.’ What, do I not get that right? Do I need to put red eyeshadow around my eyes and paint a black stripe over my nose for you to think me worthy of being the father to your kids?”

You winced. You didn’t think something as harmless as a fictional crush would upset your darling boyfriend so bad, but now you could see how you’d been out of line. I mean, maybe you wouldn’t like it if Hoseok had spoken about some other person, fictional or not, like that in front of you.

You crawled over to him on the couch, straddling his thighs despite how they shook even with your weight pressing down on them. He hadn’t stopped his periodic scoffs, his eyes locked on a point to the side as he seemed to be caught within his internal dialogue. He seemed to only be making himself madder with each second.

“Baby,” you called him, placing your hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

Hoseok just shook his head, still not meeting your eyes.

“I was being stupid,” you continued. “Choso is pretty—”

He scoffed once again, causing you to wince. Wrong way to go about the apology, yet again. Goodness, why did you suck at apologizing?

“—But! I love you, not him. If anyone is cute, it’s you. If anyone is hot, it’s you. If there is anyone who I find loveable, it’s you. If there’s anyone that I want to destroy, it’s you. So don’t be mad, baby, he’s nobody.”

You did feel a little weird about how you had to make it clear that Choso wasn’t stealing you from your boyfriend, but you hated to see Hoseok so upset.

And it seemed like Hoseok appreciated the reassurance, because he was finally looking at you.

He watched you for a second, as you continued to massage his shoulders while sat in his lap. Hoseok could see Choso over your shoulder on the tv, and it gave him some sort of kick to know that despite him being on screen, you had your back turned to Choso. Your full attention on him, only him.

The worry on your face made contentment bubble in his chest, this is exactly how he liked you: fawning over him.

“Yeah, baby?” He asked, pulling you into him by the hips until he had his face pressed into your neck, placing small kisses on your pulse. “You like me more than him?”

You felt heat rise to your cheek as his hands slipped under your shirt, rubbing one hand on the small of your back as the other gripped at your waist, guiding you to grind against him.

“Yeah…” you managed to get out between soft gasps as he began to move you harder and faster against his hard-on.

He bit into your neck, rubbing his tongue over the teeth marks he left behind possessively. “You don’t sound all that convincing, baby.”

“I, um, I—” you gulped, overwhelmed by how quickly the situation had changed. You could feel him getting harder and harder under you. “I mean it, I only see you that way.”

Hoseok pulled away from the marks he’d sucked and bit into you. Looking up at you with a hooded gaze. “How you gonna prove it to me?”

You didn’t know what to say. Isn’t it proof enough with the way you were panting on his lap with his bulge pressing into you?

“Would you do anything to prove it to me?”

You nodded frantically at the olive branch he had extended towards you. He was giving you an out, and you would be a fool to miss it.

“Yeah, baby? You’d do anything?”

“Yes,” you purred, head falling onto his shoulder as he pulled your shirt off of you. “—do anything for you,” you said between gasps.

“Good,” he said, pressing his lips to yours, reaching down to unbuckled his belt. “Then make me a dad.”

Namjoon (ft. Nanami from jjk):

Nanami Kento was the living embodiment of a gentleman. The guy you’d bring home to your parents. The guy you’d imagine living the rest of your life with. The guy to buy you a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence. The guy who’d listen to your rants about work drama, or friend drama, or family drama, any drama really.

He was perfect.

And he reminded you entirely of your boyfriend, Namjoon. The man you could always rely on, the only one who you’d brought home to your parents, the man who forwarded you real estate listings every weekend as he’d sweet talk you with the plans he had for your future together.

He was perfect.

And you needed to see Namjoon in a Nanami cosplay.

“Please, baby, pleaseeeee.” You gave him the best puppy dog eyes that you possibly could. “Please, please, please, please! I’ll do anything for you if you do this for me!” You had your hands pressed together as you begged in front of him.

He had just gotten out of the shower after a hard day of dance practice, and with just a towel covering his bottom half, he was bombarded with you and the outfit spread out on the bed.

“Please, please, please! If you do this for me, I’ll even put that lingerie set that you got me as a gag gift, just please, try it on.” You grabbed his hand, pulling him from the ensuite door, closer to the bed. He had to hold onto his towel with the other hand to prevent it from falling from how hard you were pulling him. You’d, in the time it took him to shower, spread out an off-white suit, a blue dress shirt, a set of brown suspenders, and a yellow tie with brown animal-esque spots out for him.

“Love, I do not want to get into a suit right now. I just showered.” His hair was dripping onto the clothes as he looked down at them.

“Baby! Please! It won’t be for long, I swear! I’ll get you out of it as quickly as I get you into it, promise!”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow at your words, a smug smile shining down at you. “Oh~ I see how it is. Me in this outfit, you in that skimpy lingerie—you seem to have a very precise idea in mind of how you want this to go, hmm?”

You couldn’t help the embarrassment from washing over you. You punched his shoulder lightly with a whine, before wrapping your arms around his muscular bicep, pulling yourself into his side. You pressed your cheek against his cool, damp skin as a way to hide your shame. You could feel him chuckling at just how quickly he’d seen through you.

“I wasn’t thinking of only that… I also wanted to take some pics of you in the cosplay ‘cause I thought you’d look cool in it…”

“Fucking liar,” he laughed more heartedly at your piss poor attempt of saving yourself from further humiliation.

“I swear!” you defended yourself, looking up to see his dimples smiling down at you, eyes filled with love. Your heart stopped for a second looking at the handsome man. Did you need to see him in a Nanami cosplay to have some fun? Cause right now, looking at his sparkling eyes and wide smile, you didn’t think you’d be able to give him the chance to put on the outfit before you jumped at him.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at your sudden stillness. “Not gonna beg me to indulge in your fantasies anymore?”

You shook your head before pressing your cheek back into his bicep, only for him to pull him into his chest instead. He was looking down at you with that look again. The look that reminded you of how this was the only mad you’d ever consider marrying.

“I think,” he said, swinging you around his arms a bit teasingly as he continued to look down at you with his wet hair, and glossy skin, “that I could put on this outfit despite how tired I am if you stay true to your promise of that lingerie. Think you can do it?”

You thanked God everyday for blessing you with a man who indulged you as much as Namjoon did.

“A-huh,” you replied, breathless.

“Okay, then get to it.” He gave his head a shake, causing the water from his hair to rain down onto you, making you giggle, the tension easing. “You get as long as it takes me to put on this cosplay to figure out that set of straps that they called lingerie before I come to get you myself, okay?”

Jimin (ft. Alhaitham from genshin):

“Turn it off.”

“No.”

“Turn it off.”

“No.”

“Turn it off, please?”

“No, thanks.”

“Oh, come on!” He threw his arms up before throwing himself face first onto the bed. He whined into the duvet convulsing around before rolling onto his back when you didn’t come over to him to soothe him.

“You hate me,” he said, looking at the ceiling.

“Nope.”

“You do, I know you do.”

“Nope, I do not.”

“You do, otherwise you wouldn’t be playing that stupid, partner-stealing man’s story quest.”

“Nope, it just means I like the character.”

“It means you hate me.” He shuffled up to sit beside you at the headrest of the bed. Letting his head fall onto your shoulder as he watched Alhaitham’s inexpressive face on the phone screen. Stupid, stupid man.

“Just admit it, you hate me. We might as well break up since you like this guy more than me.”

“Literally when did I say that?” you sighed, trying your best to pay attention to the plot of the quest as Jimin continued interrupting you.

“Just now.”

“When?”

“When you just said it.”

“I actually didn’t say anything, Jimin.”

“You said it in your mind and I could tell.”

“Jimin.” You turned to look at him. He was still glaring at Alhaitham. “You’re always doing too much.”

“Just admit you want to break up.” He weaseled his way from your shoulder into your lap, his head right under where you held your phone, looking up at you with fake teary eyes.

“Baby, it’s a video game.”

“It’s a declaration that you hate me and that you want to break up.”

“Jimin, if you keep saying that, I might actually think this is your way of breaking up with me.” You went back to tapping at your phone and trying your best to recount what you were meant to do next.

“I would never!” Jimin defended, burying his face into your stomach.

You relented to his whining, bringing one hand down to run through the hair on the back of his head.

He was picking at the side stitches of your shirt absentmindedly though he was still buried face first into your stomach.

You felt him mumble something into your stomach. “Hmm?”

He looked up at you, repeating what he’d said, “I’m gonna delete your account if you don’t pay attention to me now.”

“Jimin!” You turned off your phone, trying to push him away from you only for him to hold onto you tighter, resuming his position against your stomach. “I’ve spent years on that, you can’t just delete it!”

He’d followed through on these sorts of threats before, so you knew he was not just joking when he said this. “I don’t care, I’ll delete it if it gets between you and me.”

He’d deleted contacts of friends, peers, and coworkers from your phone before, but you never thought his jealousy would extend to video game personas.

“Jimin,” you stressed. “He’s just a bunch of pixels on a screen.”

“And those unfeeling pixels are stealing your attention from me.” He looked up at you with a pout that would be cute if he wasn’t being completely disagreeable once again.

“I literally spent the whole week with you, didn’t open genshin once, why can’t I just play for a few hours now? Besides, aren’t you supposed to be at work right now anyway?”

“Can’t go when my spouse is threatening to leave me.” He was kicking his feet now, clearly content with how his threats had worked. Your phone was off now and you were looking at him, speaking with him.

“Goodness, Jimin. I really don’t know what to do with you.”

“You could kiss me for a start.”

“Not after how much you’ve annoyed me today.”

“So you are breaking up with me? For a stupid fictional scholar? A scribe?”

“You know an awful lot about the man you despise so much, why is that?”

“He’s trying to steal you away from me. Successfully stealing you away from me. God forbid I did some research on the man.”

“Just for that attitude, I’m not gonna give you any kisses.”

“Okay,” he straightened out in front of you, sitting between your legs. “Then I’ll give you kisses.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek with a goofy smile. Then your forehead. Then your other cheek. Then your nose. With each kiss, another bit of your anger subsided.

“Now you kiss me.” He puffed out his cheek, bringing it in front of your face.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You grabbed his cheeks, and turned him to face you before giving him the proper kiss he’d been craving all afternoon.

He instantly melted into you, attempting to deepen the kiss, only for you to pull away from him.

“You only get more if you promise not to delete my account.”

He huffed. “Fineeee. I promise… for now.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “I guess that’s good enough… for now.”

Taehyung (ft. Howl Pendragon from Howl’s Moving Castle):

“Do you prefer blond Howl or black-haired Howl?” You were lying down on the couch with Taehyung lying on top of you, his head resting on your chest as Howl’s Moving Castle playing. You had stopped rubbing his back when you asked him the question, though your eyes remained on Howl turning into green slime over his dyed orange hair.

Taehyung just grunted, half asleep. His arm reached behind him, forcing your arm to move up and down his back again before letting go when you’d resumed your previous ministrations.

“What do you think?” you asked him again.

He was practically asleep, maybe it wasn’t the best time to be asking him about the movie.

Just when you thought he had fallen asleep he replied, “Orange-haired.”

You laughed. “Be serious for a second.”

“I am.” His arms tightened around your back, pressing harder into you.

“Come on, you’re not being serious. Blond or black?”

With his voice heavy with sleep he said, “Black.”

You hummed at his answer. “Yeah, black hair is nice on him. But I liked him blond better.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“His actual hair colour is black. It suits him better. It’s his true self.”

You pondered. “I guess so, but I just am a sucker for his blond look. Makes him feel… I don’t know. I don’t really have an explanation, I just like it.”

Taehyung was quiet again, you turned to check if he was asleep now but instead he was looking up at you with a scowl. “Is this your way of telling me you want me to go blond again?”

You brought a hand up to cover your smile, knowing it’d only cause him to be more adamant. “No, Tae. I was just talking. People always seem to discuss which Howl version they like more. Just wanted to know what you thought.”

“Well, I think I should go blond.”

“Literally why?”

“Cause you’re thinking of some other blond man. Want you to only think of me when you think of blond.”

There he goes again. “God, Tae. Forget I said anything.”

“No no, go on about how you hate my black hair and want to see me fry my hair to be blond again.” He was now propped up over you, using his hands to keep him hovering over you. All his sleep whisked away due to the arising fight.

“I wasn’t trying to imply anything, Tae. I love you how you are, I love your black hair.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You were getting angry. Over the past few weeks he was getting more and more accusatory. Accusing you of not loving him. Of wanting to change him. Of having ‘wandering eyes.”

You were tired.

You didn’t even want to defend yourself at this point.

“Come on, say it.”

You closed your eyes, biting at your cheek as you tried to control your frustration. The last thing you want to do is give into his taunts and turn this into a full-on verbal fight.

You opened your eyes, bringing your hands to the nape of his neck, trying to pull him back into your chest. “Baby, let’s just watch the movie.”

Tae allowed you to play with his hair as he considered whether to drop the topic. With the way you were caressing him, he really wanted to, but the nagging voice in the back of his head urged him to continue.

You watched him analyze your face for a minute or two. And you did the same for him, counting the beauty marks scattered across his beautiful face. His black hair falling into his eyes as he held himself above you. It was hard to believe that this angelic man was the one who would make day-to-day life so difficult at times.

“Can we?” you asked. You brushed his hair back from his eyes, holding his bangs back for a second before letting them fall back to their place.

His eyes flitted between yours, debating. Then he gave in, falling into your arms once again. “Fine. But I choose the next movie, and I’m gonna make sure there are no pretty blonds in it.”

Jungkook (ft. Gojo Satoru from jjk):

“Nah, I’d win!” Jungkook yelled, running away from you, ducking from the pillows you’d throw after him.

“Stop it!” You picked up the fallen pillow before resuming your chase.

“Nah, I’d win! And then—” he traced a line across his neck with a wide smile, before throwing his head to the side, tongue sticking out.

“JUNGKOOK! Stop it!” You threw the pillow at him again, but Jungkook easily dodged it, running into the kitchen.

He giggled loudly as you chased him around the kitchen island, stopping when you stopped to catch your breath but then giving you another taunt to make you chase after him again.

“What happened to your big strong boyfriend, huh? Couldn’t keep up with Sukuna now could he?” He asked with a wide toothy smile.

“Jungkook!” You called the name through your snarling teeth.

“What did you say again?” He put on the most atrocious imitation of your voice humanly possible and said, “He’s Gojo Satoru! He’s the strongest sorcerer alive! He’ll beat Sukuna easy!”

“Jungkook, I’m gonna kill you!”

“Oh, like Sukuna killed your little sassy boyfriend?”

You threw the pillow at him again, only for it to hit the Gojo figurine you had placed on your side table. You both watched it tumble onto the ground.

It was still in one piece, but seeing it on the ground made your anger flare up even further.

“Jungkook,” you sneered, turning to look at his frightened face.

He had his hands up in defeat. “I didn’t hit it, you did.”

“Jungkook,” you bit out the word, stalking towards him.

“Hey, baby, it’s fine! Look, it’s fine.” He picked up the figurine, and to be fair, it was fine. But your anger didn’t care about that now. Your anime/manga boyfriend was dead, and your actual boyfriend was being a dick about how upset you were over it.

You had picked up the pillow again, walking towards him slowly, and as you pulled your arm back to hurl it at him again with a scream, he sped off for your bedroom.

“Y/n! I’m sorry!” He didn’t seem all that sorry considering he was back to giggling again like a child as you ran after him. He jumped around couches and tables before slamming the door closed before you could follow him into the bedroom.

“Open the door!” You slapped your hand at the door a couple of times, jiggled the doorknob only to find it locked. “Jungkook, let me in!”

“Nope!” He popped the p sound, giggling behind the door. “You gonna kill your real boyfriend just cause the inferior, fictional one died?”

He was honestly very happy that Gojo had died. He was tired of not being the only golden man in your eyes anymore. Jungkook was the one who was good at everything that he did, not that dumbass anime man. And he had proved it, didn’t he. Inadvertently. After all, Gojo was dead, so he wasn’t perfect now.

Jungkook was full of glee.

“Jungkook, if you don’t come out right now, I’m gonna rip your collectible posters.”

He just giggled again. He could imagine your angry frown perfectly. How you probably wanted to destroy all his anime memorabilia as revenge for how he made fun of Gojo’s death. But he knew you were all bark and no bite.

“No, I’m not opening it.”

“Open it.”

“Hmmm,” he pretended to think out loud. Then: “nope!”

“Jungkook, you’re gonna have to come out eventually, and when you do, I’m gonna be waiting right here for you.”

Jungkook laughed, but when three hours had passed and you remained in front of the door, periodically knocking and asking to be let in, he didn’t find it as funny anymore. Well, it was still a little funny, but also it was a bit scary how your anger wasn’t subsiding.

Jungkook listened to the doorknob rattle from the bed, but didn’t bother opening his eyes. It was locked, you couldn’t get in.

So then could someone explain why the door was swinging open and you were suddenly set on top of his supine position. Your eyes red with both anger and sadness, your scowl set deep.

“Hey, Y/n,” he said sweetly.

“Hi, Jungkook. Wanna repeat what you said earlier?” Your hands were pressed against his pecs, face leaning in closer to him with each second.

“I don’t think I should,” he said with an eased smile. His arms were crossed behind his head, as if he didn’t have his angry spouse sitting on top of him at the moment.

“Not gonna gloat that Gojo’s dead?”

He laughed, jostling you around with each breath. “Don’t need to. You already know,” he said with a smirk.

You took your pillow from beside his head and smacked him upside the head with it. The soft downy fluff only made Jungkook erupt into giggles once again, his hands coming up to try (and failing) to prevent subsequent hits. He only laughed louder and louder, until he had wrapped his hands around your torso and tugged you into him.

You continued to struggle against him. “Let me go!”

“Nope!” He pressed kisses all over your face between giggles. Laughing at your half-hearted slaps at his triceps and forearms. “Can’t let you go when I’m so happy to have my partner all to myself again. Fuck that Gojo guy.”

You stopped struggling, exhausted from chasing him around and making a lockpick to get into the bedroom. “You’re so mean,” you whined. “Remember you used to like him too. You said he reminded you of yourself.”

He pressed a kiss to your head. “Not since he made me second place with my own spouse.” He turned you to look at him, giving you a smile before kissing you sweetly.

You returned the kiss before breaking it. You pressed your temple against his pecs, snuggling up into his arms. “So fucking extra.”

As you can probably tell, I'm still salty about some things lol.

#bts x reader #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #yandere jin x reader #yandere yoongi x reader #yandere hoseok x reader #yandere namjoon x reader #yandere jimin x reader #yandere taehyung x reader #yandere jungkook x reader #bts scenarios #bts drabbles #series: love amour aur pyaar #ev's writing

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azuretl · 3 months

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Obey Me! The Comic

I wanted to write a bit about my experiences and working on the Obey Me! Manga!!! It’d be fun to dive into the process and challenges and just overall experience.

Read more under the cut!

Sooooo I first found out about seven seas licensing it when they announced it on their Twitter. I emailed my project manager and told her that I worked on the game some years ago! (I was translating events and phone messages and updates through an agency. I don’t remember exactly which events I got to do now, but I think I translated the bunny costume cards and event… one of the mammon birthday events… a Christmas one… and many many others!! Getting the OM job was how I was introduced to them!)

So, I was put on the project. I still remembered a lot of rules and regulations about the boys and their speech style and personalities, AND I was still playing Nightbringer at the time, so it wasn’t hard for me to pick this up. (Thank goodness I also kept all of my notes!)

This manga was a lot different from the previous manga work I’ve done…mainly because it’s based on a game and used a lot of text from the game.

There are two routes we can take when we work on works that have previously translated and published content. We can either retranslate everything from scratch, or…we dive into the translated content and try to stick as closely to it as possible.

I always prefer option 2, because in the eyes or the reader/fans, that’s what they’re most familiar with. There are legal issues with that sometimes, so not everyone is given that luxury… but luckily I was able to for this book.

I cracked open my Obey Me! game and diligently went through the first few lessons

I don’t think I’m allowed to show my script, but every time the book used lines from the game, I’d copy it from the game and highlight it, making a comment to the editor about exactly which lesson it’s from so that the editor will know that these are direct lines from the game.

The whole reason I bothered doing this (and it takes way more time pulling lines than translating the text myself btw) is because I thought, as a fan, seeing the familiar text would feel more welcoming. If I was a reader, I’d feel so happy and I might even start comparing the game and the book just to see the same text… because this is the Obey Me world, made for the fans and for the people. If the Japanese audience got to experience the same text as it’s pulled from the game, then the English audience should too…at least, that’s how I felt!

A bit about the translation process… once the script is handed in, I have little to no idea about how much of that script ends up in the final product. So for this title, I had SO MANY NOTES to the editor to tell them about things that can’t be changed (example- The Great Mammon is mammon’s way of addressing himself. Don’t change that!! And there’s mammon’s iconic yell- d’aaaah!). I took a quick flip through volume 1 and I’m really glad the editors kept what needed to be kept and did an absolutely fantastic job with this title! 💕💕💕

I’ve been wanting to write something about OM for a while, but it took a really long time for the company to send me copy of the book 😅

But this is actually because they had very limited copies left… I guess it sold really well?!?! I never had a book with this issue before…

So to end this blog post off, I want to thank all of you for purchasing the book and supporting OM!! Thank you so much for loving this world…and I’m always so honored to be able to bring some of that to the western world.

Keep loving the boys ❤️ and please look forward to the next few volumes!!

Ending this iconically with Mammon’s sexy ass 💕

#obey me #manga #translation #obey me the comic #localization

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endcant · 1 year

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i dont really have any nostalgia for television, but i think a lot about how radio affected my brain as a kid, especially at night.

there was a time when i realized that because everybody slept at night, i could get up at night and no one would be awake. sure, cars would pass by outside, but not as many. there was basically no evidence of other human activity, and i was alone.

when it was dark, i would slip out of bed and crawl across the floor, fearing that walking would be loud enough to wake someone. i’d feel such a sense of mystery when i’d turn on the radio at the very lowest volume in the dark and crouch close to the speaker to hear melancholic alt or robotic (secular!) pop music playing, or hear scary synthesized voices read off the weather, or whatever. especially without a chipper dj cutting in and providing my child brain with context.

i’d feel questions more than think them: we’re all supposed to be asleep right now, so who is this station supposed to be transmitting to? is there a purpose, or is this an automatic process that occurs without human oversight? it felt like watching a decapitated bug keep crawling. i was old enough to know that the voices singing weren’t singing live, but i didn’t properly understand where they were calling out from. why don’t they sound happy or friendly? why is no one telling me what i am feeling or how i should judge the feeling? is anybody in charge of this? everyone else is asleep, so what if nobody is in charge of anything at night? who am i when no one is in charge of me? i guess i’m the perceiver in the dark who listens to these unhappy, inhuman voices sing and talk about things i don’t understand.

#🎤#mine

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kinkandkreep · 9 months

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Heyy can you do J,I,Y,X,V,S,N,E,F,B nsfw alphabet for ratonhnhaké:ton please 😊

Thanks for sending this in hun! Y'all feel free to take a gander at my NSFW Alphabet and send in some more requests! Happy reading!

Ratonhnhaké:ton:

B= Body Part (favorite body part of their own or their lover's)

Connor’s favorite body part(s) of his own are his arms

His favorite body part of yours is your lips (he's also quite partial to your cheeks and hands)

Connor admires the strength of his arms, how easily they allow him to carry you, and caress you and comfort you when the occasion calls for it

He likes your lips because they’re soft and oh so kissable

He could spend an eternity just gently kissing you, savoring the way you taste and holding you close *swoon*

E= Experience (do they know what they're doing )

Connor…sort of knows what he’s doing

Initially

He really doesn't really have all that much experience, mostly on account of the fact that, y'know, he's a busy Assassin/Captain/Business Owner🙃

I personally headcanon that Connor lost his virginity to the person he married; in this case, let's say that's you

In the beginning, Connor is hesitant but very teachable

He really just needed a gentle, encouraging hand to help him along and before long, he’s practically an expert at making you feel good

F= Favorite Position

Con-con man’s a bit of a vanilla guy so I’d say something intimate like missionary or spooning

He’s also partial to just your basic cowgirl

I= Intimacy (do they prefer to "fuck" or "make love”)

Connor prefers to “make love” 9 ½ times out of ten

The rest of the time he’s probably hopped up on adrenaline or something and needs to properly “fuck” the energy out

J= Jack Off (do they masturbate & how often)

I wrote about this once before but I imagine that Connor actually masturbates fairly often

Which probably sounds counterintuitive given that I just said he’s a busy man but just hear me out 😂

In that drabble, I noted that he has a high libido, and, looking at it from the perspective of an average, sexually healthy person, the reader couldn’t always keep up/doesn’t feel like takin’ it to the bed all the time

So, as a remedy to the issue of essentially always being ready to go, outside of like quickies, Connor just masturbates and it helps

Not necessarily a whole lot, but it helps nonetheless 🙃

N= No (turnoffs or flat-out no no's)

Connor will not hurt you in bed, no matter how you plead and beg and whine and moan

If that’s one of your kinks

Connor’s already lived his life around so much violence and he’s gotten his fair share of scars and injuries, and he would never want to inflict something like that onto you

Yeah yeah, he knows how to be gentle and maintain self control and he could feasibly play rough but he just prefers not to

Connor’s a big ole’ teddy bear ok, just let ‘im be soft 😭

S= Stamina (how many rounds per night, how many nights/times per week)

Rounds per night: As many as you’re able to go and then some, so if I just absolutely had to give a figure it’d probably be 3-4

Nights/times per week: Again, as many as you’re up for, but on his own, he could go the aforementioned 3-4 rounds every night of the week

V= Volume (are they loud, do they talk & if so, what kinds of sounds do they make)

Connor doesn’t talk loudly, but he may whisper sweet words in his native language and even swear in it and English when things get really heated

Other than that, he makes the usual grunts, sharp intakes of air through his clenched teeth and, if you’re fortunate, you may even pull a throaty moan from him on occasion *waggles eyebrows*

X= X-ray (length, girth, any special attributes like piercings, veins, tats, etc.)

So…here’s the thing

I think we as a community have collectively decided that Connor is, for lack of better term, packin’

He’s big, and I would even imagine he knows it 😏

Let’s say about 8 ½ inches in length, a little greater than half an inch thick, with prominent veins running along both sides

And that’s not even me being generous

Honestly I could imagine him to be a bit bigger but I don’t want this to become too unrealistic

Even though he’s a fictional character but I digress 🙃

Y= Yearning (a look into their libido)

As previously mentioned, Connor has quite the libido

Contrary to what one might assume from observing his personality and mannerisms, Connor has a naturally high sex drive and he practically runs on adrenaline, so while he’s not perpetually hard exactly, he’s pretty damn close 😂

Plus him being so adoring of you doesn’t help, simply observing you do the most simplistic things sends his drive through the roof

He’s just in love ok, leave my baby alone 😤

I believe that’s everything this time ‘round. I hope you enjoyed! 👋🏾

#ratonhnhaké:ton #connor kenway #ac3 #assassin's creed 3 #connor kenway smut #ratonhnhaké:ton smut #ratonhnhaké:ton x reader #connor kenway x reader

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theredofoctober · 8 months

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MANNA- CHAPTER SIX: SALT

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink

This is chronologically the sixth chapter in the series (I'll be changing the titles to the chapter names included on ao3 soon)

---

Another day begins in the cenotaph of Dr Lecter's house. That he doesn’t immediately speak of your night in Will's bed seems intentional, a tactic to keep you on some treacherous edge.

Though you look askance at your abuser across the breakfast table, he speaks only of the day's work ahead of him, and that which he has put to you.

“I’d like you to read the book I left in your room,” he says, observing as you dice poached egg into cubes so thin as to be the crystals of a snowflake. “I see that you have not touched it yet. As part of your treatment, I intend you to follow a curriculum that will provoke healthy conversation and—I hope—reflection, afterwards.”

You spread a quantity of egg white to the furthest edges of your plate, hoping to create the impression of having eaten more than has, in fact, travelled your oesophagus.

“Dostoevsky,” you say, at length. “Isn’t he really depressing?”

Hannibal smirks, and reaches across to gently remove the fork from your plate.

“That is indeed a perspective of his catalogue, but not a conclusive summary. Fyodor’s life, like his work, was frequently besmirched with misfortune, and yet he proclaimed beauty and worship as his driving forces, endeavouring to appreciate both even at the direst junctions of his existence.”

Dr Lecter forks the clandestine shrivels of egg towards your lips, which remain in a steadfast line until you discern the quiet threat in his oaken eyes. While yolk waxes your inner mouth, your fists wrench your skirt, as though you might twist your captors throat through mortal telekinesis.

You think of cartilage closed beneath your fist, of gargled breaths, and quiet, and cringe from the knowing of what would truly come. Dr Lecter’s hand would make a paper crane of your wrist, or else his cock would tear you through you like God’s hand rending the rib of Adam to make Eve.

With you as his Eve, he means to make an Adam of Will, it seems.

You sit, and you eat, and feel the weight of it crawl up your belly on many legs, such vermin.

Presently, you ask, “Can’t I choose something else? A different novel? I’m not much of a reader anymore, and it’s pretty long.”

Truthfully, when you do attempt to read, it is often the same sentence over and over; your hunger has robbed this from you, also, a nosferatu in its thirst for thought.

“If you complete this volume and share your thoughts with me, then you may request a title,” says Hannibal, smoothly; perhaps he has prescribed this book for its preposterous length, as well as its content, an occupation for months to pass. “For now, I would like you to finish The Idiot. There is a character within that I suspect you will come to understand as well as yourself.”

You decide that you despise his pretension as much as his torments, the naked self-absorbtion that comes of filtering experience through such narrow tastes and opinions.

Still, you cannot challenge his word so soon after promising your obedience, and thus finish your breakfast without further word in order to excuse yourself from the table.

Alone in your locked room, you scream against your impotence, knowing well that there is no one to hear or help you. Hannibal has fortified this beautiful room as he might a trove of sapphires to inhibit your escape, and whatever neighbours he has keep their insular distance from it unless invited in.

If a passing stranger did glimpse you there, you doubt that they’d be moved to your release. You are but a poor mad girl, shut away to heal in the home of a doctor so esteemed. There is no word to be had against his, even that of the law, which he has cleverly declawed.

You pull a chair to the window to read, accepting, in sulking resignation, that there is nothing else to do but pace, or sleep, which you will not do, afraid to lose all sense of reality to repetitious acts. The book is as difficult as anticipated; tracing your finger across each page, you hope to anchor your thoughts to its complex and numerous appellations, shadowboxing the eternal fog of food that eclipses all things, even the rapes.

If you accept what has been done to you, and what has been taken, then you must accept the abyss that is to be a slave to circumstance. So, for the following days, you think only of the novel and the view beyond your room, in which the trees weep browning leaves like the blood of a decaying God.

You see little of Hannibal, which you are glad of. His work runs long into the evenings, and the brief visits he makes to your room are merely to ascertain that you’ve eaten. The meals remain small, suggesting a caution in Dr Lecter not to overextend the limits of your disease.

You elect not to tell him how your heart palpitates each time you touch morsel to tongue, how desperately you cram mouthfuls past your teeth, swallowing before you can stop yourself, standing, petrified of your base weakness, which you’ve less and less ability to resist.

There is no secondary option to upturn its pale belly to your taking, nothing but the damnation of the men that rewrite your purpose as love letters to one another, or poison pen notes, one and the same.

Friends, enemies, paramours, or rivals— what they are, if not one or all of the four you cannot interpret.

When Hannibal comes to you on the morning he claims to be Saturday with news of Will Graham’s imminent arrival you are almost pleased, the chance to observe these monsters in repose a thrilling distraction from your sequestered numbness.

“I apologise for my neglect,” says Hannibal, glimpsing something of this eagerness in your expression. “My clients have proved themselves to be uniquely demanding, recently. I hope not to face similar struggles in my home.”

You are, at this time, in the parlour, looking about you for where to pour away the hot chocolate that Dr Lecter has placed into your shaking hands for you to finish. The mug is charmingly presented, towering in whipped cream and shaken cocoa, its contents thick and sweet as Ethylene; you feel you might equally die from it.

Hannibal says your name, and you jump, slopping a little of your drink over the rim.

“How do you feel about Will joining us this afternoon?” asks your captor.

Shrugging, you rub at the spilled chocolate with the cuff of your sleeve, aware of Dr Lecter’s eyes locking to the stain on your dress. He cannot abide mess, or disorder, another quality he accepts in Will, who is not nearly so put together as his companion, even at his best dressed.

“I hate Will,” you say. “That's all I feel.”

“Then why did you choose to share a bed with him?” asks Hannibal.

He knows, then, and likely set this trap on purpose.

“I had a nightmare,” you say. “I needed someone. I still felt... weird. From the meds. I guess it made sense to me, then.”

Hannibal appraises you with interest.

“You could have come to me.”

You cannot restrain your rictus of disgust.

“No way. You brought me here. You brought Will to me. Told him what to do. What he did... it was you, doing it through him.”

“Certainly not,” says Hannibal, smoothly. “I am the dowsing rod that comes upon water underground. Will’s potential, and taste for violence was already there. Still, there are other yearnings to be mined from that plentiful well. You know this: it is why you went to him for comfort. There is a father in Will Graham, craving to give love to a child.”

Again, you grimace, and Dr Lecter releases a sound of soft amusement

“And why that look? Because of the intercourse? Not one of the three of us shares blood with any other. Although it was known amongst some ancient kings to wed their daughters.”

You set down your mug with a punctuating clink.

“You’re not kings.”

“If only we were,” says Hannibal, cheerfully. “What palaces we would have built for us. Ah, well. In my mind, at least, they exist.”

He picks up your mug and places it back into your hands.

“Drink your chocolate. If you finish half of it, I will take it away.”

At this, you brighten.

“Really?”

“Of course,” says Hannibal. “As long as you eat some of the cream.”

He loiters until you are finished, never seeming to lose his fascination with your person.

“A valiant attempt," he says. "Now, let’s get you out of that dirty dress. Wouldn’t want Will thinking I’m not taking good care of you.”

You make as if to go to your room, but Hannibal stands in your way, an immovable wall.

“Raise your arms for me, little one.”

“I can dress myself,” you insist, and wilt as Hannibal’s goodwill visibly wavers.

“Alright, doctor.”

After easing the dress up over your head Hannibal stands a moment, considering your nudity before him. One hand frisks you ribcage to breast, taking measure of your form, and you find yourself shifting from foot to foot, appalled by the coal of arousal that simple touch has spurred.

“So many pleasures could be yours,” says Dr Lecter, “if you would only embrace them.”

You look away, and allow your turned cheek to be your answer.

By the time Will enters the house, Hannibal has you drawing on a large sketchpad in an armchair— art therapy, you suppose, but you are no fool. Through it, he means to infantilise you further, making you all the more susceptible to the two of them in that, in all things, you are a child. Theirs.

You’ve been told to draw whatever your feelings dictate to you, but out of pettiness you scratch down caricatures of your tormentors, taking great satisfaction into making each look particularly mean and unattractive.

Will sits at one end of the living room couch, his full mouth in a cantankerous downturn. He doesn’t make even brief eye contact as he greets you; indeed, he pretends to the best of his ability that you are not there as he accepts a glass of wine from his host, a curt, plaid-shirt clad shoulder squared in your direction.

The night you spent in his bed embarrassed him, you realise, as though he were your hostage, and not the reverse.

Thus, he has chosen to hate you for it, and it is as you scar his pencilled image into a graphite scowl that you decide to goad him, in response.

Hannibal—coolly debonair in a pressed rust suit—looks at you throughout his conversation with Will, analysing each haughty exhale and flip of a page in their colourful feeling.

Each time Will speaks, you make a point to drop a pencil with a disturbing clatter, or else stare at the back of his head until he surely feels the pressure of your gaze. It is childish game, to be sure, but one that cannot easily be halted in the name of misbehaviour.

The young man twitches and stiffens with gratifying agitation, his squared jaw a lance of disgruntled solidity. Hannibal’s eyes bear the shine of withheld mirth, and you comprehend that although this man cannot abide rudeness, he is not above the lowbrow if it is in the name of vengeance.

It does strike you as odd, however, that he does not intervene on his ally’s behalf; this, too, you are darkly curious to understand, his passive participation in the prodding of a humming nest.

At last Will snaps your name, one fist brought down on the arm of his chair in a cushioned thump.

“If you want something from me, then you’d better say it out loud. It’s not as if you’re known for being shy about your feelings.”

“You know what I want,” you mutter, drawing your chin up under your knees. “But you’re too chicken to do anything he doesn’t want you to.”

This directed at Hannibal, who merely hums neutrally, and leans in at a subtle incline.

“You’re right: I’m not taking you home,” says Will. “You’ve barely been here a full week, and your collaboration with Dr Lecter is half-hearted, at best. Don’t expect freedom when you haven’t worked for it.”

“And don’t pretend to care about solving crimes when you’re here, committing them,” you retort. “You really put the fucking bullshit into the FBI.”

Will’s eyebrows rise in disbelief, his forehead a graph of harried lines.

“Careful,” he grinds out. “I ought to wash your mouth out with soap.”

Snorting, you pick the sketchbook back up and shake it open across your lap.

Your pulse is ringing with adrenaline, with the fear of where this brattish turn may lead, but with Hannibal silent and quietly interested in one corner, and Will stiff and seething in between, there is causality to your tantrum that you do not care to challenge.

“You wouldn’t,” you say. “You’re too scared to touch me without your friend holding your hand the whole time.”

Will becomes very still.

“That is a very dangerous assumption to make," he says, and suddenly you are almost blind with miserable fury.

It makes you quite reckless.

“So do it,” you say. “Wash my mouth out. Do it!”

“Time to prove that you’re a man of your word, Will,” says Hannibal, from the corner. “A parent that does not reinforce discipline holds no power.”

Will stands up quite abruptly, rolling up his shirt sleeves in terse motions.

“Alright.”

A darkness passes over his eyes, and you realise your mistake.

“Wait,” you say. “No. I didn’t mean it.”

You shriek as Will tries to take hold of you.

“Hold still,” he says. “I don’t want to break your arm. It’d be easy for me.”

He drags you into the downstairs bathroom, slamming on the cold faucet with a free arm and holding a cake of soap under its stream.

“No! No!”

You bring your legs up off the ground and lunge forwards, pitching your attacker into the washbasin.

He pivots you in his grip, one shuddering hand squeezing your collarbone. The other cracks your cheek with an impulsive force that steers you back against the sink, just as you threw him, all your righteous attitude let out of you like pulp from a gourd.

Will stares at his own hand in abjection, his eyes a harrowed eclipse.

His voice stutters, trembles.

“Oh, I— did I— I shouldn’t have— what am I doing?’

You fold to the floor and crawl away on three limbs like a dying animal, one hand clutched to your cheek. Hannibal emerges from where he has been observing from the doorway, gesturing soundlessly for you to return to the parlour. He doesn’t appear angry; rather, the feeling that inhabits his eyes is so unlike any other you’ve yet perceived that dread turns your innards out of you as surely as one of his knives.

You should run, you know, barricade yourself into an unlocked room to wait out the squall.

Yet something—a sense, an instinct—compels you to lurk in the hallway beyond the bathroom to eavesdrop on the conversation within.

“Will,” says Hannibal— through a crack in the door you see him caress the younger man’s quaking arm with the sensitivity of unbridled love. “You are distressed.”

Graham lifts his hand, still flushed red from the blow.

“I made a serious mistake,” he says. “Indefensible.”

“She was antagonising you,” says Dr Lecter, plainly. “You punished her. That is all.”

Will shakes his head, battling to articulate himself.

“No. No. I reacted. It was... inelegant.”

“I agree the soap was perhaps too literal,” says Hannibal, reaching across to turn off the faucet and set the soap bar straight in its dish. “It was a little gauche.”

“Gauche,” Will repeats. “Yeah. Sounds about right.”

He laughs shakily, relaxing under Hannibal’s consolation.

“A musician might be expected to produce many flawed pieces in his early career,” says Dr Lecter. “In this case, however, there is a fault in the instrument.”

Drying himself on a hand towel, Will appears pensive, unconvinced.

“And you think it can still be played, this instrument?”

“You have demonstrated it just now. While your first motion was unsophisticated, the second was a symphony. A bullet, a palm; each you have delivered to adversaries with the same instinctive force, and certain beauty.”

“I shouldn’t have hit her in the face,” Will insists. “Too dangerous. I could have deafened her. Given her concussion.”

“Then next time you must put her across your lap,” says Hannibal, smoothly. “That way there is no chance of serious injury.”

A charge conjoins the two of them like a lightning bolt, marrying the earth to the sky.

“Right,” says Will, at last. “So, what do I do with her now?”

You scuttle into the living from before either man realises you’ve been listening and throw yourself down on the couch, your body going into little spasms of terror at the many possibilities of what fate your ire has earned you.

Shortly after, Will passes through the door, inspecting your prone form with a fragile caution. He sits gingerly beside you on the couch and clears his throat.

“Well,” he says. “You wanted my attention. Now you’ve got it.”

You neglect to answer.

Sighing, Will takes hold of the quiet.

"You have a bone to pick with me today. Bigger than usual."

"I could say the same to you," you mutter, and Will's lips tighten into an unpleasant smile.

"You’re upset because I didn’t want to talk to you when I came in. I don’t know what you were expecting from me. When I found you in bed next to me the other night, I knew exactly what you were doing. Didn't Hannibal tell you about my acute empathy?”

Sitting up on both elbows, you shake your head.

"No. What does that even mean?"

"It means I know how insecure you're feeling,” says Will. “And what you think you'll achieve in breaking me down. But you won’t. I don't appreciate being used, One."

He spits the latter half of Dr Lecter's nickname for you as though it's rather beneath him to employ it, and this egotism alone reignites the desperation in you to best him, to raise yourself from the dirt-ground bottom of a pyramid of three points.

Ignoring your repulsion, and the throbbing welt of his handprint on your cheek, you struggle up onto Will's lap and kiss him, your fingers a bow at the nape of his neck.

For an instant he kisses you back, his cheeks in bloom, all gasping and piteous desire. Then he pushes you down onto the floor by the shoulders, his expression drawn, and severe.

"One," says Will. "No. You know the rules."

You stare into the sullen lakes of his eyes until they skitter aside.

"No," you say. "No, I don't, Will. Dr Lecter hasn't explained anything. First I'm a patient, then I'm your daughter, then I'm— I'm something you can just hurt? I don't understand what I am to you people, or what I'm supposed to do."

"You can start by not kissing me," says Will, and he wipes his lower face with one coarse hand as though drying himself of sudden rain.

"Why?” you ask, and the young man leers with distaste.

"You don't even want to. You're manipulating me. Trying to, at least."

"Like you've been doing to me? You want me here. Otherwise, you'd take me away.”

Your voice dries into in a plaintive croak. Your fingers clutch and cleave to him.

"Prove me wrong, Will. Take me to a real hospital. Please, Daddy, take me away from here."

You almost feel him waver, under the spell of your weakness, its call to him. Then he jerks his chin in stubborn resistance, twitching your hands from the fabric of his trousers.

"I'm not going to disrupt your treatment. I have to trust that Hannibal will get through to you. Can't help thinking he's wasting his time."

"Your rules don't make sense," you say, rudely changing the subject back to its previous line. "How come you get to touch me when I can't touch you?"

"Because you'll use it like a shovel to dig your way out of here," says Will. "Or to drive a wedge between me and Hannibal."

"What if I just want someone? I'm alone, here. I can't be alone. I can't cope."

You reach out to Will, forcing a passion for him that is not there. He feels your cold, and flinches back, the genuine emotion you'd felt extend towards you snapped like a pine needle under a hunter's boot.

"Don't do that," he says. "I won't be twisted around your little finger. If you want me on your side, then you can apologise for disrespecting me, and you can use your mouth to do it."

His meaning beats you in, a bruising horror.

"You don't mean that," you say. "Do you?"

Will smiles again, this time with a chilling irony.

"I think I do."

“Why?” you ask, again. “Because he told you it was a good idea?”

With slow purpose Will leans forward, wearing his darkness like a helm, a power, till now, unseen.

“Because you need to learn that I’m not the soft target you think I am. I feel for you, and I want to help you, but not nearly as much as Hannibal does. I lack his patience. The harder you push me, the further I’ll close against you, and the last thing you need is another locked door in this house. Do you hear what I’m saying to you?”

It is the threat of an echoing night, a decade forgotten underground, as in your dream.

“Yes,” you say, unsteadily, and you see Will warming to his role in a subtle tightening of his posture.

“Then you know what to do.”

You look at his trouser button, gleaming like the tusk of a boar charging unavoidably through some murky underbrush.

“Can we do... something else?” you ask, in a whisper.

“Why?” asks Will, sharply. “Afraid of the calories? Considering Dr Lecter’s been lenient with you today, I think you can afford the addition.”

The cruelty of this takes you aback; you cannot yet determine its cause.

“Why do you hate me, Will?” you ask. “I’m just some girl. You don’t even know me. I never hurt anyone on purpose before I got here. Why am I the bad guy to you?”

He says your name with a dangerous finality.

“You’re stalling. Look, I can walk away and leave your punishment to Hannibal, but I can’t guarantee that he won’t be harder on you than I am.”

“What would he do?” you mumble.

Will pauses, and you get the sense that he’s editing his answer.

“What he believes I’d like him to do.”

“Worse than this?”

You regret the question as Will unbuttons his pants and sits back, all moody arrogance.

“What do you think?”

You envisage yourself running from the room, throwing a screaming fit, or making your attempts at violence upon this delicate man, anything but set your mouth to task, as he desires.

But you have sensed the devil in Hannibal Lecter, have dreamt of it; its spectre is the hand on the back of your neck as you reach into Will’s open trousers and lure out his arousal in your grudging fist.

His girth rises from a thicket of curls, already straining against your touch, as it had been the night he watched Dr Lecter ravage you on the table top. Three strokes and Will is sucking his breath through his teeth, his hands scratching at the sofa, his eyes raised to the ceiling as your mouth closes over the head of his cock.

He grasps the back of your skull and coaxes you clumsily down upon his heated desperation, needing, thirsting, a street mutt brought in to eat.

The first taste of salt upon your tongue has you straining back against him; Will is right in that you fear the numeric value of his excitement, as though the very flavour of him alone might deconstruct your physical being like a wound in space, eating stars and worlds with similar appetite.

The young man is too strong for you; he keeps your mouth, your throat upon him until you give in, fearing he may snap your neck entirely by accident in his ferocity.

He says nothing, only breathes harshly above you, quite beautiful, still, an angel in his ecstasy, his sculpted features catching the soft light of the room, burnished to their most perfect state— you loathe him for that same symmetry, hate that you must hold his thighs in the bastard sibling of an embrace to steady yourself, or else fall upon his lap in bowed debasement.

The noise of the act—wet coughs and rasps, the rattle of saliva sieved through your teeth—takes on the rhythm of a waulking song, all repetition. Your eyes lose their vision to your tears, perceiving nothing but light, and Will’s gloomy outline above you.

His inhales shorten, a sawing in, in, in, of saccharine air, and both palms close upon your cheeks as his small hips rise, and your mouth is full of him, like the crest of some foaming wave.

You tumble back, and turn to spit just as Hannibal’s voice cuts through the room.

“Swallow it. Though my floor is clean, I suspect that it is not quite spotless enough to eat off, which you would have to, should you deposit what you have in your mouth there.”

You glance at Will, closing his trousers with a rather sheepish air about him; no help to you, little though you would have expected him to be. With a nauseous gulp, you drink down his liquor, made ashamed by your absence of valour, a coward to grovel so swiftly to command.

“How far you’ve come,” says Hannibal. “Both of you.”

Will meets your miserable look, and this time there is no guilt in his eyes.

“Is Jack Crawford still invited to dinner?” he enquires, quite casually, as though your tongue was not still thick with him.

Brows arched, Hannibal says, “He is. Why do you ask?”

They both look at you, their thoughts a chevron formation of psychic understanding.

Will says, “She’s not ready for that.”

You shrink away as Hannibal approaches, pressed against the foot of an armchair like a beaten courtier to some mad king.

“She will have to be,” says Dr Lecter. “For I insist on her attendance.”

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