#counterpoint: HE'S LIKE THAT FOREVER

[jennycalendar]

the thing about giles and jenny is that they could be fully in the middle of divorce proceedings and he would STILL want to cuddle with her if it was on offer. this is a fact supported by multiple timelines btw

#miscellany #calendiles #thinking forever about boom comics where she’s like I Am Philosophically Opposed To The Watchers’ Council #and he’s like counterpoint: let’s kiss. also did you know i would die for you #a man with a head full of rocks

[jjkeremika]

Here to Forever

description: date nights with the AoT men (plus historia lol) <3

pairing: Eren, Levi, Reiner, Armin, Porco, Erwin, Jean, Zeke, Historia, all x (fem!) reader

like A LITTLE nsfw/smutty

Eren

Eren and you almost always went to the movie theaters--your man loves a good trip to the movies. Sometimes you would suggest a meal before, but he was always reluctant, complaining that then he'd be too full to eat the movie snacks. You always rolled your eyes with a large smile on your face, usually caving.

Movie choice alternated each time, you often opting for comedies and animations while Eren advocated for actions and sci-fi's. He liked to sit in the back, able to view the entire screen, usually directly under the speaker so no one could hear your hushed whispers and hearty breaths.

Although you enjoyed a good movie now and then, Eren's eyes were fixed to the screen, absorbed in the film that he wouldn't even notice when you asked for the candy.

So you always enjoyed the bad movies the most, because Eren's attention was on you; and the fact that you had to be very, very quiet while his hands groped your breasts, while they traveled to your bottoms, turned you both on. Sometimes he'd pull you onto his lap, his fingers intimately gracing the sensitive spot between your legs as he nibbled at your earlobe, sucked on your neck. You kept going back, because you've only been asked to leave once.

Levi (age gap)

Levi didn't talk a whole ton, but he liked listening to you. He fervently believed you were smarter than him, always spouting interesting ideas and bringing up counterpoints. And you were so damn kind to everyone, always considerate, and he genuinely did not give a damn about anyone.

Except you. He cared an awful lot about you. Having repeatedly been kicked down by life (he didn't really talk about that), born into a shitty lot in life, had the rug pulled out from under him and lost everything, he built wall after wall and thought he'd lost access to his emotions. Then he found you. And somehow your naivety and wide-eyed view reinvigorated something deep inside.

Although relatively stoic and unemotional in public and rarely voiced his positive opinions with friends, Levi was, in some sense, rather vulnerable when alone with you. He was quite open about his infatuation with you in private; his eyes frequently roaming your body, his mouth pressing hundreds of kisses to your skin.

Then there was the vulnerability that manifested in unique ways. The immense desire to have you, the fiery need to have you on your knees, taking him, all of him, feeling him so deeply it'll last for hours, craving him so deeply to last for days. After he was satisfied with the number of times you'd called his name, begged for more, he'd take the best care of you, wrapping you in his softest sweatpants and giving you the warmest kisses and making you both the most delicious food.

So while most couple's dates consisted of the date then sex, yours was reversed, always working up an appetite.

Reiner

Reiner's dates, a generous term, were always spontaneous activities: playing soccer at midnight, hiking some oh it's only a few miles trails, biking or rollerblading around the city. Even though the physical activity was exhausting and sometimes even daunting, Reiner's presence made it infinitely better.

He'd carry everything, never letting you carry any bags (not that you'd complain). He'd offer various snacks and water, offer to frequently slow the pace or stop and admire the surroundings. Uh, why are you looking at me like that? you'd ask, an eyebrow raised. Hm? I told you. I'm admiring my surroundings, he'd answer, the sunlight reflecting off his brilliant smile.

Hiking was the most frequent activity during nice weather, which, you couldn't deny, definitely had its perks. During higher altitude breaks with clearings in the trees, or at the peak of the climb, when the view was the most clear and pristine and the sunlight was basking on you.

The view was always worth it, and you'd preen as Reiner's lips would connect with yours, smile widely as he gripped your thighs and picked you up, carrying you until your back was against a rock edge or a tree. His large hands groped your cheeks as he kissed sloppily down the middle of your neck towards your chest, already breathing heavy. You smiled as the tingling sensation and a warm heat spread throughout your body, the gorgeous landscape disappearing as your eyes blinked shut with pleasure.

Armin

Armin liked to have you all to himself, often taking you on dates to secluded places or sitting in the corner of restaurants. He was the most gentlemanly and domestic, packing extra jackets and carrying sneakers on the nights you wore heels.

His favorite site was under the large oak tree in the meadows, near where the rabbit's den was. He would set up a picnic blanket in the shade, removing fake glasses for champagne and perfectly portioned meals.

Armin loved telling you how beautiful you looked in the setting sun, the golden light highlighting your features just right. He composed lyrical hymns on the spot, accidentally stringing into teary-eyed poems and soft-spoken sonnets.

The sunset is so beautiful, you would say. Not as beautiful as you, he would reply. You'd roll your eyes because, well, cheesy, before he'd continue: Words elude me as they know they're not worthy of you; Dictionaries are developed to describe you; I could list ten thousand things and none would be as beautiful as you.

And you'd kiss him as the sun dipped beyond the horizon, as the stars shined second to you, illuminating your face as you moaned in ecstasy, intensifying Armin's blue eyes and blond hair as he stared at you from between your legs, his tongue writing love letters in cursive.

Porco

You were the first person Galliard had ever been on a date with, which honestly surprised you. His tough exterior, confident demeanor, honest humor, and cynical smile was so charming you had a hard time believing him when he coyly told you that you were his first, the pink blush on his cheeks just so cute.

During the warm evenings you'd walk along the beach together, enjoying the expansive view of the stars and the soft sounds of the waves landing against the sandy shoreline, watching the tide change.

The sway of you in his huge arms always synced to the sway of the tide, a gentle rocking that soothed your body and mind. You'd close your eyes as his lips would travel along the back of your neck and upper spine. Your hands would travel to his hair and you'd push your hips back into his. Eventually he'd grab your hips and forcefully spin you around, kissing you and dragging you to the soft sand.

He always returned you home after, moist swollen lips and pleasantly tingling bodies, sharing knowing looks and giggles at the dry-humping and grinding that transpired; the sand you find at home for days after becoming an intimate inside joke between you.

Erwin (age gap)

Erwin was the first older man you've been with, and you weren't sure how you had ever survived before. Experienced, mature, muscular, capable, successful, stable.

You were his priority. Were you happy with your wardrobe? He'll buy you a new one. No one to go to the store with? He'll take you shopping wherever you'd like. Did you like the furniture in your apartment? He'll buy you a new set. Did paying bills stress you out? He'll pay it for you. What else would I want to spend my money on if not you? he'd tell you when you'd protest, capturing you within his large arms, pressing you into his strong chest.

Date nights were events, where you both dressed in your nicest garments and ate at a nice restaurant. Erwin would open and close the car door for you, push and pull the chair out for you, pour the bottle of wine for you, order for you, telling you he knew what you liked (he always did).

During the dinner the clouds in his blue eyes whisked into lustful storms. He'd pay the check and hurry you out of the restaurant with his hand glued to your lower back, complaining in your ear about how the food never tasted as good as you did, how he'd wished you'd stayed in and he'd had you instead. He'd rush you into the car, practically running to the other side of the car and racing home.

Jean

Jean prepared you dinner for your first date, buying the ingredients fresh that morning and preparing it from scratch, still cooking (about an hour from being done) when you arrived at his apartment. He'd begged his roommate to leave for the night, and he'd already prepared the table for a romantic evening (about 5 hours before the date started).

He greeted you with a peck on the cheek, a move that you watched him internally question for a split-second, one that he then tried to move on from by awkwardly shuffling you to the counter. You'd smile, a light blush forming from the proximity and the heat of the room.

He liked preparing you dinners for dates, frequently remaking the meal you'd had that first night, kissing you on the cheek every time in homage to that first night. Jean would shower you with compliments, making up for the moments where the sarcastic comments would slip through.

After a few dates you started arriving earlier to cook with him, chopping and dicing vegetables while he seasoned and operated the stove. He'd trap you between his arms against the counter, pressing kiss after kiss to your cheeks and lips and pulling you close, your hands traveling to the growing bulge in his jeans, only moving away when you both started to smell something burning.

Zeke

You had first met Zeke on the lawn at a concert. He was shirtless, sitting on a flannel fabric (probably his shirt), waving both hands in the cool autumn air, a lit lighter in one hand, swaying to the beat of the music, smoking something between his lips.

He put it out as soon as he noticed you standing nearby, scrambling to stand up and started to talk to you between opening acts, somehow managing to intrigue you enough for a date outside the concert venue (totally didn't have anything to do with his six-pack abs).

Although keeping a cool, calm, and collected demeanor, Zeke was always nervous on your dates, constantly wondering if you were enjoying yourself, if the conversation was stimulating enough or if the activities were entertaining enough. He never said anything, but you could read it in the unsteady glances and nervous nail biting.

When you wrapped your arms around his neck, you'd step on your tip-toes and press a soft kiss to his lips, swooping in to ease his anxieties. I had a great time with you, you'd whisper against his lips, thanks for a great night.

He'd tighten his grip around your waist, pull you in as close as you could get, until the only space left between you was the air in your lungs and he was going to squeeze that out too. His attitude would shift as the blood started pumping to his legs, smacking your ass and biting your bottom lip. Let me make it so much better.

Historia

When Historia had first confessed her feelings for you at the coffee shop, you were slightly surprised. The hand-holding and faux-flirting was something she did with everyone. You never realized it was special with you, that it was real with you.

She liked to spoil you, and though she always needed to convince you, you always gave in, letting her buy just that one thing for you or take you to that place you really wanted to go.

Museums were where you both frequently visited, the quiet ambiance perfect for you two. You both talked so much outside of date nights that you had nothing to say during them, and observing art was a hobby you both shared (one that you imprinted on her (she likes it because you do)).

You found out later that Historia considered that time at the coffee shop your first date. But you considered it that first night at the museum, when your hands grazed in front of the Mona Lisa, when you both felt pulled together for the first time, when you both leaned in and kissed for the first time, feeling like no eyes were on you.

Despite that Historia was very affectionate, that first time being an exemption, she never kissed you in public or on camera. That was shared between you two behind closed doors, and you two alone.

#hehe these are fun to make #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #jean kirsten x reader #jean x reader #reiner braun x reader #reiner x reader #porco x reader #porco galliard #erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #zeke x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #historia reiss x reader #historia x reader #zeke yeager x reader #aot smut #snk smut #jjkeremika #i have to tag myself bc i wrote it lmao

[bee-snail]

MY BELOVED yes I am aware his antlers do not line up. Counterpoint: he was SO fun to draw regardless. Maybe I'll make lore out of it and make it so he can change the antlers at will! Who knows!

Seven David is my favorite guy ever !!! In short, he was murdered by Cameron when he was just a little kid, but was revived by the massive amalgamation of souls, stuck together in a Hivemind-like entity, of Sleepy Peak — which they creatively named "The Forest" — as their vessel in the physical world. A guardian, one could say. He repressed that entire experience and lived on, catching the eye of one Cameron Campbell (who was, obviously, pretty shocked when he saw the kid he definitely killed just... walk out of the woods like nothing happened) and eventually becoming a camp counselor.

Quartermaster always looked out for him! Even if he wasn't exactly,,, a caretaker kind of person.

He awakened his powers when his campers were in grave danger. And tada! Now he's a Forest Guardian™ and he's the coolest forever (<- Got tired of lore, now I'm just yapping HAHEHRHE)

The double eyes and the funky nose shape is actually there because once he finally connected with the Hivemind, he could bond with Jasper again !!! And now they're together: mentally, psychologically and more-or-less physically as well. I love them!

Oh! Here's another doodle I have of him. The halo? Oh, don't worry about that. :]

Little guy... I love you little guy (<- he can destroy the Earth if he really wants to)

Bonus: COVER THEM UP SLUT /ref

#once upon a time #he was just a normal guy #and then he became a huge deer with incredibly OP powers #oh how I love my self indulgent little AUs #mwah mwah #HEHEHHEEE #camp camp #camp camp fanart #camp camp au #cc david #camp camp david #bee's art #my art

[tossawary]

Overall, in the live-action "One Piece", I liked the way that they did Mihawk visiting the Baratie. I still prefer the manga/anime (Zoro SEES Mihawk fuck up an armada and this wonderful idiot is like, "Yeah, I'm gonna fight him next,"), but I understand why they shifted the Don Kriegs around in order to fit the arc they had created for their limited number of episodes for the East Blue Arc, and I think it was probably the right choice even if it changing the Don Kriegs does give us less of the Baratie crew. All of the arcs were filed down and I can just go back to the manga to see all the East Blue minor characters properly.

I like the fact that OPLA has such a different feel. I think it's fun when adaptations embrace the fact that they're inherently different. I really liked Nami and Zoro's little drinking and questions game. And I thought Usopp getting super drunk at the bar and Mihawk being RIGHT THERE listening to him talk was SO FUNNY. Like, yeah, that gives off the vibe that this warlord does just casually visit bars as he travels, in between fighting armies for funsies, and now I get to also imagine Mihawk casually shopping at specialty goth clothing stores and buying bottles of wine to go as he travels. (And now I have to wonder what would have happened if Zoro had run into Mihawk somewhere like Funky Bar (the bar he mentions to Kuro, which yeah, they did kind of make it sound like a gay bar).)

I like Usopp/Kaya, but now I also like to imagine for a second that Usopp could have accidentally (or on purpose! If you're not going for Usopp/Kaya) HIT ON Mihawk at the Baratie. Maybe he was just trying to compliment the guy's fit or remark on his beautiful eyes or something, because Mihawk definitely has an aesthetic going on, and these words came out a little too flirty? Maybe it was a random bout of drunken courage sure to collapse quickly?

And, in this silly OPLA AU, I like to imagine Mihawk leaning into this at least for intelligence-gathering, like, "Let me buy you a drink. Tell me more." (Side note: Mihawk doesn't really seem like a bar hookup guy to me, like, in general, but counterpoint: SHANKS sure does!)

So, Nami, across the bar, can be like, "Whoa, Usopp's actually pulling some guy." (Mentally, she is evaluating Mihawk as, like, a sugar daddy robbery target. It's like second nature to her at this point. Are they going to have to interfere? Usopp is REALLY drunk. Can she swipe Mihawk's wallet if they interfere?) And Zoro turns around to look and he pauses for a really long time before saying, "...That's Dracule Mihawk, the World's Greatest Swordsman."

So, things proceed pretty much the same way from there, Zoro challenges a warlord and nearly dies, but now Nami and Zoro can hold "flirting with a warlord at a bar" over Usopp's head as an embarrassing story FOREVER. (I think if Usopp tried to own this misunderstanding to lessen the embarrassment, his lying would take over, and this would somehow lead to widespread rumors that someone on the Strawhats is secretly MARRIED to Mihawk or something, because Usopp's luck is terrible. The Navy has to reach out to Mihawk like, "ARE YOU IN LEAGUE WITH THE STRAWHATS THROUGH MARRIAGE?! CONFIRM OR DENY." And Mihawk thinks it's so fucking stupid that he refuses to answer at all.)

After the timeskip, the first thing that Zoro ends up saying to Usopp after 2 years is something like: "Mihawk says hey."

Usopp: (⁠･⁠o⁠･⁠;⁠)

Did Mihawk really say hey? Does he remember Usopp at all? Is Zoro just fucking with Usopp? Usopp will never know. (Maybe Mihawk said something like, "My regards to your crew," but Zoro is totally just fucking with Usopp.)

#tossawary one piece #usopp #roronoa zoro #dracule mihawk #fic ideas #spoilers

[elryuse]

Hey, can you write a story about yandere Chaeryeong punishes y/n for escaping

PUNISHMENTS

YANDERE CHAERYEONG X MALE READER

The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air, a sickening counterpoint to the chirping crickets outside. Y/n, his body trembling like a frightened rabbit, huddled in the corner of the basement, his eyes glued to the crimson trail leading to the lifeless form of his mother.

Chaeryeong, his once-beloved childhood friend, stood over her, a chilling smile playing on her lips. Her once playful eyes, now glinting with a terrifying madness, met his.

"See, Y/n," she chirped, her voice like a warped nursery rhyme, "they just didn't understand our love, did they?"

The memory, a year old now, still sent shivers down Y/n's spine. It had all started innocently enough. Chaeryeong, the girl he used to chase butterflies with, had developed a… fixation on him. It began with small pranks, dead mice left on his doorstep, whispers in the dead of night. Then came the escalating threats, the cryptic messages scrawled on his window, each signed with a single red rose.

His parents, oblivious to the growing darkness in Chaeryeong's eyes, dismissed it as teenage angst. But Y/n knew better. The fear gnawed at him, a constant companion.

The first kill was his father. A "tragic accident" the police called it, a gas leak in the garage. Y/n knew better. He'd seen the glint of a metal pipe in Chaeryeong's hand the night before. Then came his mother, a single, brutal stab wound silencing her screams.

Now, alone in the blood-soaked basement, Y/n felt a primal terror unlike anything he'd ever known.

"Don't worry, Y/n," Chaeryeong knelt before him, her touch sending chills down his spine. "We'll be together forever now. Just you and me."

Forever. The word hung heavy in the air, a chilling promise. Chaeryeong's basement became his prison, the flickering light bulb his only sun. Days bled into nights, punctuated by Chaeryeong's visits. Sometimes she'd be playful, braiding his hair and humming childhood songs in a voice that now sent shivers down his spine. Other times, she'd be a monster, her eyes burning with a terrifying intensity as she recounted the details of his family's demise.

He tried to escape, once. The desperate scramble for the basement door, the sickening thud as Chaeryeong tackled him. The punishment was swift and brutal – a broken leg, set with rusty tools, the agony a constant reminder of his limitations.

Somehow, amidst the horror, a twisted form of normalcy emerged. Chaeryeong meticulously cared for him, cooking him meals, reading him stories, her voice a chilling comfort in the suffocating darkness. She'd decorate the basement with fairy lights and stolen flowers, a pathetic attempt to create a semblance of life.

Y/n, a broken shell of his former self, clung to this twisted affection. It was all he had left. He learned to anticipate her moods, to offer a placating smile when she needed it, to endure the chilling tales of her "art" – other families, chosen at random, their lives snuffed out in Chaeryeong's twisted game of love.

One night, as Chaeryeong recounted the details of her latest victim, a horrifying realization dawned on Y/n. He wasn't just a prisoner; he was an accomplice. His silence, his forced acceptance, was a tacit approval of her monstrous acts.

He looked at Chaeryeong, her face illuminated by the flickering light, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. In that moment, beneath the mask of madness, he saw a flicker of something else – a desperate yearning for love, a love so twisted that it thrived on death and fear.

A choked sob escaped his lips. He was trapped in a nightmare, bound by a love so warped it defied definition. Chaeryeong, his childhood friend, his tormentor, his twisted savior, had become his entire world. Escape seemed like a distant dream, lost in the suffocating darkness of their macabre love story.

The basement, once a place of horror, now felt like a twisted sanctuary. As long as he remained within its confines, Chaeryeong's twisted affection, a chilling mix of love and possession, would keep him safe. Outside, the world continued to spin, oblivious to the monster lurking in its midst and the broken boy forever bound to her.

#itzy chaeryeong #lee chaeryeong #chaeryoung itzy #itzy #kpop #yandere roleplay #yandere blog #yandere stories #yandere #kpop yandere #pyschopath #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #apreciation post #update

[laduenadelswing]

A happy day in hell

The hum of the V- tower resonated like a dirge in Vox's circuits, a counterpoint to the hollowness that gnawed at his core. The city sprawled beneath him, a tapestry of neon and shadow, yet his crimson gaze, usually keen and calculating, was clouded with a yearning that threatened to short-circuit his processors. Old memories haunted his thoughts.

Lisbon was a distant memory, a sun-drenched mirage shimmering in the wasteland of his existence. He recalled cobblestone streets slick with rain, jasmine clinging to the air like a lover's embrace, and the warmth of sun a beacon in the storm. In the city of light, Vox met the light of his (after)life. She, a fledgling model with eyes like emeralds and a laugh that could chase away the bleakest nights. He, a rising star, his voice captivating millions, his heart captivated by her. The pastel colours shined brighter when he saw her.

Their love story, though brief, resonated with the intensity of a supernova. Stolen moments under Lisbon's moon, whispered promises exchanged in secret gardens – these were the notes that formed their melody, a melody cut short by the cruel hand of fate. One day they stayed all night at the beautiful view points and gardens, another day he was crushed in his studio. The currents fell immediately, ending their love. The life they had was cut short, no more light, models, TV, dates, adventures and growth. Vox vanished, woke up in hell without his soulmate.

She carried on, like a lone instrument playing his tune in the vast orchestra of life. He watched from the other side, a disembodied echo, his circuits aching with the phantom pain of her absence. He saw her age, the lines etching themselves onto her face like the grooves on a weathered record, each wrinkle a testament to a life lived without him. He saw her grief, he wanted to embrace her and promise that they would meet again. It’s everything he ever wanted. But he wouldn’t wish her to wake up in hell. She war his angle, his goddess who made him believe in love again.

Then, the news arrived, a final, discordant note. She was gone too, her melody fading into the cosmic silence. The world around Vox dissolved into static. The city lights, once vibrant, bled into an oppressive darkness.

Yet, even in the abyss of grief, a flicker of hope remained. In the pregnant silence, he could almost hear her voice, a gentle murmur soothing the ache in his circuits. He could almost feel her touch, a spectral caress reminding him that their love, though silenced, was not truly extinguished.

He knew then that their life, though cut short, wasn't over. It lived on in the echoes of their memories, in the melody they had created together. And perhaps, in the infernal show of Hell, their love would find a way to play again, a defiant testament to a love that transcended even the boundaries of life and death.

But the path forward was shrouded in the static of his grief. Would he search for her in the labyrinthine depths of Hell, her arrival a spark igniting a desperate quest? How would his grief sculpt him, make him more compassionate or harden him further? Could he find a way to express his love in this new reality, perhaps composing a song that would bridge the chasm between them?

The possibilities hummed with an electric potential, mirroring the spark of determination igniting within him. He would rebuild, not just the radio tower, but himself. He would carry her memory, her love, as his guiding melody, composing a new song in the symphony of his existence, a song that would echo through the halls of Hell, a testament to their enduring love. And in that melody, perhaps, he would find solace, purpose, and maybe, just maybe, a way to reconnect with the melody that had been so cruelly silenced.

Vox surveillanced every part of hell until he found his soulmate. She was lost, alone ans had no clue how she got there. As soon as she cried, Vox appeared.

“Oh darling, I missed you so much. I waited forever to see you again.” He chuckled as he came closer. She hesitated, the horror on her face was visible. Vox’s claws wanted to help her get up, the confusion on her face confirmed Vox’s biggest fear.

“Who are you?”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin charlie #vox x reader #vox #vizziepop

[blindmagdalena]

Hii, how are you? I hope you're doing well! If you haven't done it yet can I request Homelander losing his powers (forever or just temporarily, it's up to you) and y/n helping him learn to do normal human things? And if possible could you add the angst of Homie being confused as to why she's still with him now that he isn't a god/hero anymore?

They're gone. Flight, strength, lasers, invulnerability. Everything that made him who he is... is gone. Homelander—can he even call himself that anymore?—feels his own mortality like a crushing weight. He's become hyperaware of the limitations of his own body, which feels more and more like a cage every day he spends in it. He's too tired, too frail, too fucking weak to do anything.

His powers weren't the only thing to disappear. No longer of use to Vought, and without the power to hold them under his thumb, he's lost that, too. The Seven. Even Ashley laughed in his fucking face. The man in the mirror, the real Homelander, perhaps, won't speak to him anymore. Everyone has left him. Except you.

He stands now in your home, dressed down in civilian clothing. He feels stripped down in them, exposed, itchy all over, but he can't bring himself to wear the suit. It feels like a costume now, a cruel mockery of what he has lost. You're showing him how to fold the laundry you taught him how to run. Your voice is a distant hum over the ringing in his ears, his gaze distant. He watches you fold the shirt, understanding, but when he moves to replicate your action, his hands feel numb and clumsy. He can't get the seams to meet the way you do. "Good job," he hears you say. John scoffs. "Don't fucking patronize me," he says, frustration laced through both his tone and his body language, drawn as tight as a stressed elastic, and just as likely to snap. From the corner of his eye, he sees you flinch, taken aback by his words. It makes him sick, but he can't stop himself. You're the only one. The only one who has stood by his side, and yet he feels a burning fury churning his gut. He looks at you properly, jaw tight, before he wads up the shirt and whips it to the floor. "Why are you even here?" He demands, closing in on you. You stand your ground, a shirt held up between your hands like some flimsy shield. "This make you feel good? Seeing me down on my fucking knees, stumbling through life like a fucking nobody? I was a hero, goddamn it! I gave this country my fucking life, and what do I have to show for it? Huh? You tell me! You tell me what any of it was fucking for!" "John, no. No. It's because I love you," you say, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. He hates the look in your wide eyes. It isn't fear, it's worse; it's pity. He can't hear your heart anymore. He can't comfort himself with the hard evidence that you aren't lying to him. Fuck, he misses the sound of your heart so much.

"Don't," he whispers, expression twisting, wounded. "I love you, John," you say again, as if you can feel he doesn't believe it. "I'm here because I love you."

"There's nothing fucking left of me," he hisses, grabbing hold of your shoulders. You used to feel like ceramic in his hands, delicate, as if he were always at risk of shattering you. Now, he can only feel your strength. You drop the shirt and lift your hands to cup his elbows, supporting the way he leans into you. "That's not true," you tell him ardently, the conviction in your voice unraveling him. "My god, John, you're... You're so much more than you realize," you say, voice catching with the sheer swell of earnest emotion flooding it. It twists like a knife in his chest. "I love you more than you'll ever know." "You fell in love with a hero," he says like a counterpoint, voice fracturing. "A fucking god." "I fell in love with you," you refute, impassioned. You shake him lightly by his arms, desperately willing him to hear you. "It was never the powers that made you my hero. It was always the man behind them." John makes a noise like you've gutted him, sinking to his knees. You go down too easily, ever eager to follow where he leads, and pull his head into the crook of your neck, cradling him. He wastes no time pulling you bodily into his lap, arms wrapping around you with urgency, holding so tightly that super strength or not, he may crush you. Despite his best efforts, a sob wrenches free from his throat. Like a domino, it knocks out another, and then another, until he's weeping openly in your arms, rocking back and forth. You cradle the back of his head, hushing him softly. You stroke his back, making him feel small in your arms. "I feel so fucking empty," he manages to grit out, breath catching on a broken breath in. "They couldn't wait. They couldn't wait to get rid of me."

"I'm sorry," you whisper. He can hear the tears you're fighting back. "I'm so, so sorry, John." You stay like that for as long as he needs you, carding your fingers through his hair as his shoulders shake through raw, unfiltered sobs. There are moments that he feels close to death, unable to breathe, lightheaded. Things he's never had to feel before. The weight of the world is bearing down on him, and for the first time in his life, he hasn't the strength to withstand it. But he has you. Eventually, exhaustion begins to set in, robbing him of the energy to weep. You hold him through every second of it, soothing whispers of love, devotion, adoration. Your words sink into him like something tangible, and if only briefly, the vest void inside him feels lesser. In this moment, pressed against your chest, John hears a familiar comfort. Your heart beats steadily in his ear. He grimaces, flexing his hold on you, and exhales a shaky, relieved breath. "Don't ever leave me," he murmurs, eyes closed. "I won't," you swear. "Not ever." He's sure that your heart doesn't waiver. He prays that it never does.

#sorry in advance i leaned way more into the angst than the 'homie learns normal stuff' fghjkl #homelander x reader #homelander x you #angst #my writing #ask and you shall receive #depowered homelander

[pinkvaquita]

As the night passes in that destroyed mess of what once was a library, Pure Vanilla simply couldn’t stop to read those ancient books, curious and a little intrigued by what these old pages could say about a continent so mysterious like Beast-Yeast. Yet he didn’t expect to find something he could recall that was familiar with him. In the yellow pages of a book filled with some gibberish he couldn’t understand, there was written in an ink with the same color as the jam a cookie had inside of itself. “Wearing a crown is a dark and lonely thing.”

He remembered this, once in the Blueberry Yogurt Academy he found a book with this line written in it. Strange, and stuck into his mind until now. Yet the phrase never resonated too much with him. 

In all his years of being a king, he has never felt nothing even similar to being lonely. Neither to being lost in the darkness.

Every memory he could recall from this times, they were flooded with the presence of his dearest loved ones. His people, his kingdom and of course, his lovely friends. Some may say that they were tied only by being the holders of the soul-jams, but there was much more than that. 

There were years and years filled with stories of comradery. Of laughing with each other. Of celebrations that lasted days. Of silent nights where they also made company in their sorrows. The bond they had was much stronger than family, nothing could compare or describe all those times they swore between smiles that they were going to be together forever till the end of times.

He also found another counterpoint against that phrase from his times of being lost… it felt so cold, so lost. Pure Vanilla never was able to think of a bigger pain that was those years of letting himself go, of letting everything drift away like little leaves on a turbulent river. The time he felt more lonely and consumed by the darkness, was when he wasn’t a king with a crown to wear. And the day he finally felt like one once again, was when he was able to share once again a room with all of them.

For him, being called king was fiercely tied to his relationships. He would never feel like royalty, without someone to share that happiness with. And everyone seemed to agree. 

Hollyberry didn’t return to her throne until the day she remembered she was a queen with a family and a kingdom to care for, with bonds to still share happiness and gratefulness. Dark Cacao never felt more capable like the day he finally was able to care for the kingdom, the day he did that it finally tasted a bit better in his mouth to being called king. Golden Cheese felt like a queen even if a big part of her valuable treasure was gone, because her friends help her not drown in the misery of a lonely grief. And White Lily finally understood her own value once she now stood in the protection of all the fairies in Beast-Yeast, slowly leaving behind her own isolation.

All of them could agree that what made them truly feel like royalty was having something to fight, to protect, to care and to let themselves know that they are not alone. The moment they were less lonely were the times in their life that they felt all hours they held crowns in their heads.

And yet… the phrase still sometimes haunts his mind from time to time. Not in a way to chase him with guilt, but with a strange feeling of something being off about it. About needing to hear who and why say that. Like right now, his hands went through every page and his eyes quickly checked everything he could in that book.

Sometimes he blamed this behavior and other similar things on a fear of a history like this repeating itself. Since Dark Enchantress, and even more since the return of White Lily, he constantly thought and thought about that god forsaken phrase..

Was it fear of his dear White Lily being lonely and losing herself once again? Was it fear of one of his friends following a similar destiny?

If that phrase existed, there was someone that ruled with a lack of light and people to guide them. A cookie that went through who knows what, and now can only associate a title with these concepts that would fill anyone in agony, someone that thought that being a king was about being alone and nothing else. It was a strange concept… and disturbing one even. A king surrounded by nothing but an obscurity, not letting anyone get close to him or his mind. Thinking himself capable of being able to handle it, when this behavior made it sound more like a tyrant than a king. A king that decided that he was fine on his own, lying to everyone about him being the only one he needed. 

A king so convinced that his loneliness was justified, that he tried to blame it on wearing a crown instead of admitting this was because of himself. A king that maybe when he realized loneliness was a pain, and in an attempt to hide it, he wrote in a book. So he could remember his own lie. “...who would make such a statement? And why in this book that has nothing except doodles and pages cutted by scissors?” 

The question Pure Vanilla made out loud obviously didn’t receive an answer. Or at least not one by talking. Because as his hands finally reached the end of this book, he found something that caused his heart to stop in his own tracks. Ignoring the strange words, incomplete drawings and torned apart parts of this book that apparently his function at some point was as a vent diary.

The same calligraphy was also used for this little firm he found at the bottom of the last page. With  nothing more than a simple yet obvious “S.M.”

“Maybe my imaginations are not that far from the true…”

And he wasn’t wrong. Shadow Milk growled in his confined space between Pure Vanilla's conscious and unconscious mind, as he watched an old say from himself returning to the surface. 

He didn't regretted his words, he still thought it was right what he said. Because even if he was the king of fools, with no kingdom or even a body to control…

He was so so so so sooooo… alone.

#i made this at 2 am #enjoy it Shadow Milk fans #Vanilla milkshake fans are included too #cookie run kingdom #cookie run #crk #shadow milk cookie #cr kingdom #pure vanilla cookie #shadownilla

[frozen-spaghetti]

Why Sans & Papyrus' are from Deltarune, and how it's so controversial

In the Deltarune fandom, I've been noticing some recent debate on whether Sans & Papyrus are truly from Undertale's world or Deltarune's world. So, I've decided to make a Tumblr theory post to cover several aspects of this! Enjoy!

Part I of this post covers the evidence, II covers counter-evidence, and III covers the controversy of it.

Part I - Are they from DELTARUNE's world? Here's some of the evidence:

• In the Genocide battle against Sans, he begins speaking about "going back." To where? Well.... • This is also a parallel to some of his dialogue on the Pacifist run. He comments to Frisk that he understands their feeling of longing to return home.

• However, this could just mean the surface, right?

• With that one line, Sans has made it clear that neither the Undergroud nor the Surface is his true home.

He also is the only returning Undertale character with absolutely zero outfit or theme song changes between games.

• Okay, but what about Papyrus? He's a totally different guy in Deltarune! He never goes outside, and in Undertale, he claims to have never seen a human.

• Well, I do have a few counters to this.

• As many fans will know, Papyrus confirmed in the Summer 2023 newsletter that he used to live in a place with green grass, such as the place that he and Sans on in Hometown.

• Now, that confirms Sans and Papyrus are both from the same world, and likely the Deltarune world as previously established. They also may have gotten the means to travel from the third skeleton, Gaster, who is all but confirmed to be a major player in Deltarune.

• As for why Papyrus acts so differently depending on the worlds; well... I don't subscribe to amnesia theory. It leans too hard into giving Sans the better treatment, so instead, I'd say Papyrus is purposefully in denial. How so? Let's read some dialogue from the King Papyrus ending.

All of this makes it seem like Papyrus is used to denial and making himself forget things. This seems to cast a new light onto that "don't forget." note as well. However, with all that out of the way, let me move on to addressing some counter arguments.

Part II - Merchandise, Dust, and Kris

• Okay, if Papyrus is from Deltarune, why does he dust? Berdly doesn't dust when he dies, and Sans isn't shown to dust either.

This is explained via the "fallen down" mechanism, when monsters are near-dead but are not fully dusted. This happens to Undertale monsters, and presumably Berdly as well. Berdly enters a deathly coma which is a major symptom of fallen down, and when Sans dies we don't see him dust on-screen. He possibly entered the state, and the reason we don't see him in the overworld is because he either already dusted, or he teleported away and remained in a coma. Due to the fact we earned an LV I'd go with the former.

Merchandise. Toby promised there wouldn't be merch of Deltarune lightners, but there's a Papyrus and Sans plush!

• Well, I'd say these are just based on where they appear first, they're branded as Undertale anyway. It'd be like if Smash Bros. Ultimate labelled Sans as a Deltarune character. For now, and likely for forever unless some crazy specific stuff happens, these two will be more associated with Undertale.

Part II.I - The Kris Argument

Papyrus has never met a human! Thus, we either can't see him in Deltarune or he's from Undertale.

Well, this is a fair point, but assuming Papyrus Denial Theory is true, him blocking away all of his memories of the Deltarune world could explain this! But even ignoring that....The skeletons are known to be quite the secretive sillies, even ignoring Gaster.

So in general, with all the counterpoints out of the way, why is this controversial in general?

Part III: Controversy

Many people argue that Sans & Papyrus being from Deltarune would be a case of poor writing.

Several have expressed concerns about how Undertale characters already have a game, and how multiverse stories in recent memory have often messed up, and how Toby could fall into said traps. Last thing we want is Bad Time Megalovania 2 Strike Back right?

I've also seen it be called "Toby leaning into fandom tropes" as well but to be fair, Toby created said tropes with lines by Sans and Alphys implying AU's exist canonically, and he himself pushes Sans as a mascot all the time, though he isn't the main character.

But yeah, with the several decent counterpoints explained away, it somewhat confuses me how large the group of people is that still deny Sans is from Deltarune is, albeit I understand their concerns.

So, since this seems to be really divisive these days (though generally most agree with me..)

I'd like to ask;

Do you think Sans & Papyrus are from Deltarune?

#deltarune #undertale #sans #papyrus #gaster #kris dreemurr #theory

[martinsharmony]

Who is the best post-2000 movie or TV villain? Hands down, David Tennant's Kilgrave from Jessica Jones' first season, the perfect embodiment of sexual and domestic violence. He's one of those rare villains who leaves you with unease long after you turn off the TV, and it's because he was there before you turned it on.

He's not the best villain because of his personality, though his glee and charm is a large part of it. He's not the best villain because of the scope of his villainy. He's not out to destroy any cities or conquer any galaxies. He's not even out to take down a hero, although that's what he's going to do along the way. You see, Kilgrave's power is this:

You have to do anything he wants you to do. Anything at all. Maybe he wants your jacket. Maybe he wants you to have sex with him. Maybe he wants you to become his lover and live with him happily, forever and ever, in a lovely little house for the two of you. Maybe he wants you to murder your mom.

You know those intrusive thoughts, the ones you would never in a million years do, the ones that make you wonder if you're a monster? The ones that say, jump over the railing. Hold the match to your sleeve. The dog sure looks happy; why don't you kick its brains in?

Kilgrave whispers the very worst things to you, and you do them.

Kilgrave makes it your fault when he does what he does to you. Makes it your idea. Does it with your hands. Makes your body something bad. And he makes the people you depend upon blame you for it.

So when Kilgrave uses his powers on you, you aren't a victim. You are a villain. And you're utterly, eternally alone in your hurt and your horror.

And it doesn't end when it ends. He's got no master plan or secret agenda. He's just following his whims. If he decides he really likes you, he'll bring the trauma back over. And over. And over. He can leave an idea in your head that never goes away, an idea that sits there where you can't see it until it suddenly shows up at the worst possible moment.

Creating a villain who generates such revulsion and horror in the audience is like capturing lightning in a bottle. As Dorothy Sayers told us, it’s almost impossible to write the Devil without making the audience root for him, because those attributes that make a villain an opponent worthy of writing about are virtues, or are at least the personality traits that make a character fascinating. If your villain isn’t powerful, you’ve got no story. If your villain isn’t talented, you’ve got no story. If your villain isn’t persistent, isn’t charismatic, doesn’t have a good reason to do what they do . . . no story. There is a sense in which it's very hard for us to tell honest stories about evil, because real evil isn't extremely watchable.

So instead of making legitimately evil villains, we make villains who are heroes on the wrong side, or villains who are heroes with a streak of malice, or we just take the hero, run through a list of their strengths, and come up with a foil for each bullet point. Those methods make engaging villains. Those are the villains you love to see, because they thrill you at the same time that they horrify you: the Darth Vaders and the Hannibal Lectors, the Moriartys and the Lex Luthors. Those bad guys may not have our allegiance, but they have our attention, our fascination, the stamp of the viewer's approval.

But to write a villain who elicits horror in the audience, who’s a perfect counterpoint to all the hero’s strengths, and to have the audience feel sick when he’s on the screen—that’s extraordinary. And in this case, it’s achieved by tapping into a kind of violence that has only rarely been addressed on the screen, and even more rarely shown from the victim’s point of view. It’s not the “violent rape” that politicians discuss, the kind that grabs you in an alleyway with a stranger’s hands. It’s the kind that gets up close and personal in all the other ways, in ways that nobody can see from the outside. And its perpetrator is an emotional toddler, raging for anything and everything they want, right now, as if their whims were as essential as oxygen. There is absolutely nothing appealing about Kilgrave. Zilch. Even his charm isn't directed toward us; it's directed toward the other characters, the ones Jessica needs to believe her and help her, and so we hate his charm. He convinces the audience that he’s powerful, maybe too powerful to be defeated, and we’re right there in Jessica’s misery with her, feeling isolated and despairing.

Kilgrave's comic-book villain in Jessica Jones does what speculative fiction does best: turns a mirror on reality. You can make a villain who is stronger than other villains, who rules a bigger empire or has a bigger weapon or is out to kill more people than any other villain ever written. But all you're doing is playing the game of "Oh, yeah? My bad guy is bad times a hundred. No; times a million. Times infinity plus one."

Kilgrave tells us what bad really is, and it rings true. Anybody who's had to take out an order of protection knows Kilgrave already. Anybody who's undergone a rape kit knows Kilgrave already. He's the rarest sort of screen villain: the one we were afraid of before he was written.

#david tennant #kilgrave #jessica jones #marvel #david is an amazing actor #krysten ritter

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

I've just finished Heart of The World and it was delightful! Frank the vampire minion and that mystery of his missing boss forever going unanswered is truly a tragedy.

I've not looked at any Lily and Sisyphus stuff but gathered Ilyn originated from Snape at some point in the development process. I truly enjoyed the "They put him in charge of children!?" realisation, but what had you decide he was going to be notorious as a warlord primarily for blowing things up with fire? Ilyn's hilarious retrieval mission blowing up cars, setting a house on fire, abducting a child and then not commenting on the most convenient portal you've ever seen form works brilliantly naturally, but when did you know that was the direction you were going?

Your remarkably nuanced handling of the very fraught political tensions among factions was very cool to see. It ends up making you feel bad for essentially everyone in some capacity (maybe not Questburger, he seemed like he was doing quite well for himself).

The Heart of the World (by me!) @janedoewrites

Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it so much! Really, this is very high praise indeed and I'm not only flattered but very glad to hear that I did what I set out to do successfully. (And yes, Questburger's done great for himself, at least so far.)

And that's a very interesting question.

So, Ilyn obviously started as a Snape counterpoint, same as Elizabeth is clearly what Hermione was, Theyn is clearly some mix of Dead Last and Neville, so on and so forth but he deviated in a large way very early/had that personality when he got introduced as a character in the first draft.

I don't think there was ever a draft where he hadn't set Lily's house on fire for no reason and was always this very taciturn/stoic/least talkative person you can ever find. @therealvinelle who helped with a lot of the editing maybe remembers better than I do but I think his characterization was set very early and the big surprise for me writing when it worked out and for her on editing is that he and Lily end the novel on very good terms.

I actually don't think characters changed that much in general between drafts. They changed a lot from the fic and in the outline for obvious reasons, the primary one being that they had different backgrounds now, different roles in the story, and that would inform who they were as people and how they best served the story but once they were decided on early in, they didn't change much in terms of personality. They've been very stable. The one who changed the most in a nitpicky manner was Lily herself who was made more... noble I suppose is the word for it in part of things happening or not happening to her in her youth, and being with the Tylors who are just absent versus the Dursleys who are present and awful. A lot of things about her and her lines changed between drafts and it took a bit to settle on just what her personality would be like with these changed circumstances and events.

But yeah, Ilyn's pretty much always been Ilyn, which is great because I love him and other people better like him because he's not going away any time soon.

#the heart of the world #the heart of the world meta #sisyphus book series #lily and the art of being sisyphus #ilyn sisyphus #meta #praise #darkwinganimus

[bthump]

I’m just wondering, the very last thing Casca says before Griffith takes control of the wagon and everything goes to shit is that "if you're Griffith's friend and equal, you have to… even if it's alone, you have to go." Of course it's ambiguous whether Guts would take this advice or not, but the way it's framed seems very definitive especially as a chapter ending. What's more, Griffith's vision is that of Casca caring for him and no Guts to be seen, implying that Guts did leave to discover his own dream.

Guts's reaction to the raiders cheering him on in their encouragement to be their captain is compelling evidence for the flipside, and that would seem to be conclusive to the arc he's been building up towards, but I can't shake the finality of Casca's words especially as they come after this moment, seemingly as a deliberate counterpoint.

Though maybe that makes it even more tragic if Griffith thought Guts was about to leave when really Guts was going to stay

Honestly I feel like it gets such strong framing not because Casca's right in telling Guts to leave, or because Guts would have left, but because it's the final straw that starts the Eclipse ball rolling. This is the exact moment where it becomes too late for Guts to do or say anything to avert it (in theory, if in practice it's impossible to avert due to fate.) This is what makes Griffith snap.

But it's also worth noting that it's not quite the chapter ending. This is:

Which imo is an even stronger statement that Guts intends to stay now. This is what he thought when he saw how much the Raiders missed him, and this is what he thinks now when Casca's telling him to leave again. It's a statement of regret for leaving the first time, a realization that the home he longed for was right here all along, and he abandoned it and now it's altered forever.

And this page especially has a counterpoint sentiment to the page almost previous (with one in between), where Griffith is depicted as a grandiose vision above Guts and Casca while Casca is telling Guts to leave, where here he's depicted as a frail tangible human while Guts reflects on his regret for leaving the first time. So it does read to me as a strong statement that Guts now knows Griffith needed him all along, and, as he says much later here, he had what he wanted in the palm of his hand and then threw it away:

And I see Griffith's vision not as an automatically accurate vision of an alternate future, but the future he envisions for himself after propositioning Casca in the wagon and then hearing her tell Guts to leave. Which imo makes perfect sense as something Griffith assumes will happen, and which then drives him to a suicide attempt.

So yeah, I do definitely think Guts was planning to stay with Griffith this time around, and imo it does make it more tragic, because Guts' realization of what he really needs to do, and what his fatal mistake was, comes just a hair to late to prevent the Eclipse tragedy. It's classic tragedy and I love it!

Thanks for the ask!

#ask #anonymous #a #b #scene: pre eclipse #theme: true light #character: guts #theme: guts leaving

[downbad4yoongi]

Between the Stacks

📚Taehyung x Jungkook 

📚Genre/AU: college, fluff, smut, angst, brother’s best friend

📚 Rating: R

📚Word Count: 3724

⚠️ Warning: smut, gay sex

📚A/N: Written for Sharon as a part of @bangtanwritershq New Year, New Love event.

📚Summary: Jungkook has always lived in the shadows of his brother’s shine. How will he handle it when his brother’s best friend finally pulls him into the light?

In the hushed sanctuary of the university library, Jungkook’s haven is a worn paperback, its pages whispering secrets only he can hear. The scent of aged paper and brewing chamomile cling to Jungkook like a second skin as he burrows deeper into the cavernous library. Sunlight, filtered through glass streaked with rivulets of soft rain, paints honey streaks across the worn spines of countless companions, each whispering tales of forgotten worlds and whispered dreams. His fingers, stained with ink from countless stolen moments of poetry, trace the worn spines, their rhythm a counterpoint to the distant thrum of campus life. Here, amongst the towering stacks, Jungkook is invisible, lost in worlds spun from his own imagination. 

His brother, Jimin, in contrast, appears to come from a different galaxy. A symphony of laughter and sunshine, he moves through life with a carefree vivaciousness. His smile, a thousand-watt supernova, draws moths to his flame, and Jungkook, forever in his shadow, watches with a mix of admiration and a pang of longing. 

Jungkook settles at a table in his favorite corner of the library. He eyes Jimin from over the spine of the book propped in front of him. His older brother is across the large room, surrounded by a group of friends who have done more chatting than studying in the last few hours they have been there. Glued to his side is his best friend, Taehyung. 

Taehyung is a hurricane that blew into their lives during Jimin’s first year at university; Jungkook was still a junior in high school. He is a whirlwind of laughter and tousled caramel hair, arriving on campus like a burst of summer on a winter day. His smile is a constellation unto itself, a playful wink that turns heads and sets hearts aflutter. With his easy charm and infectious energy, Taehyung is a supernova in his own right, blazing brighter than even Jimin sometimes.

Jungkook rarely crosses paths with Taehyung. Jungkook is content in his solitude and watches from afar as Taehyung becomes the center of every circle. Yet, beneath the surface, a different tune hums. It can be heard in the stolen glances across crowded rooms, in the way Jungkook’s pulse quickens at the sound of Taehyung’s booming laughter, but especially in how the older man’s gaze strays to Jungkook’s corner of the library.  

In Taehyung’s eyes, Jungkook sees a hint of curiosity, a gentle understanding that pierces his usual invisibility. For Taehyung, Jungkook is more than just Jimin’s brother; he is a quiet enigma, a universe waiting to be explored. Shyness, like a barbed-wire fence, keeps Jungkook at bay, and Taehyung’s loyalty to Jimin, a thick fog, obscures the path towards anything more. They are two planets orbiting the same sun, forever drawn, forever out of reach, their unspoken verses waiting to be sung, their hidden melodies yearning to be heard. 

Suddenly, Taehyung’s eyes meet his across the room. Time seems to stutter, the air crackling with unspoken words. A beat of silence stretches, then Taehyung, with a mischievous glint in his eye, winks. Jungkook feels his cheeks flush, the heat spreading through him like wildfire. He ducks behind his book, the worn pages suddenly a flimsy shield against the supernova across the room. 

Jungkook’s heart hammers against his ribs. What could that wink mean? The wink, innocent on the surface, feels like a detonation in his quiet world. He peeks over the rim of his book, a sliver of Taehyung visible at the edge of his vision. The mischievous glint has softened, replaced by a hint of uncertainty, a mirror of Jungkook’s own turmoil. Torn between yearning and hesitation, Jungkook’s fingers tremble on the page. 

Taehyung watches Jungkook from across the large space,  longing to unravel the enigma that is Jungkook. He wants to break through his shyness and explore uncharted territory. But his loyalty to Jimin looms, a constant reminder of the line he shouldn’t cross. 

In the midst of this emotional turmoil, a giggle from beside Taehyung startles him. He turns his attention to Jimin, who seems blissfully unaware of the complex dynamics playing out around him. Jimin’s laughter rings through the air, momentarily dispelling the tension. Taehyung shares a quick glance with Jungkook, both silently acknowledging the struggle within themselves. 

The two of them settle back into their respective corners of the library. Jungkook buries himself into his books, getting lost in worlds far away. Taehyung settles back in next to Jimin, joining in on his friends’ fun.

As the hours pass, the library grows quieter, and the soft glow of study lamps casts a warm ambiance in the dimming space. Jungkook, engrossed in his books, loses track of time. When he finally looks up, he’s surprised to find the library empty. The hushed whispers have faded, and many tables around him are now vacant. 

Realizing the lateness of the hour, Jungkook gathers his belongings, preparing to leave. However, as he approaches the exit, he finds the doors sealed shut. Panic flickers in his eyes as he realizes he has inadvertently been locked inside the library.

The storm outside has intensified, and rain pelts against the windows, accompanied by occasional flashes of lightning that illuminate the darkened sky. Thunder rumbles in the distance, echoing the turmoil within Jungkook. 

With a sigh, he decides to explore the library, hoping to find a way to contact someone to unlock the doors. As he wanders through the aisles, the sound of footsteps catches his attention. Turning a corner, he stumbles upon Taehyung, who wears a surprised expression upon seeing Jungkook.

“Taehyung, you’re here, too?” Jungkook asks a mixture of relief and surprise in his voice. 

Taehyung nods, looking equally bewildered. “Yeah, I stayed behind after my friends left, and I guess I lost track of time. Now it seems we’re both locked in.”

The irony of their situation isn’t lost on them. Together, they attempt to find a solution, checking windows and trying to reach someone through their phones, but the signal in the library is weak, and the windows are firmly shut.

As they navigate the deserted aisles, the distant rumble of thunder grows closer. The storm outside grows even stronger, creating an atmospheric backdrop to the unexpected solitude they find themselves in. The flickering lights within the library and the echoing thunder outside create an eerie yet strangely intimate atmosphere. 

Jungkook and Taehyung share a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the peculiar circumstances that have brought them together. With no immediate solution in sight, they decide to make the best of the situation. They find a cozy corner, surrounded by shelves of books with the occasional flashes of lightning and the comforting sound of rain tapping on the windows.

Once in the corner, both men kick off their shoes to get comfortable. Taehyung snags the dusty armchair nearest the window, its faded crimson velvet whispering secrets of forgotten readers. Jungkook settles on the floor, leaning against an adjacent bookcase. The scent of aged paper and leather dances in the air, punctuated by the earthy tang of rain seeping in through the leaky windows.

Jungkook shivers, drawing his knees closer to his chest. The old library, usually a haven of warmth and knowledge, feels eerily cold tonight. The storm outside rages, each crack of thunder vibrating through the building. Taehyung, ever the optimist, nudges him with the tip of his foot.

“Think of it as an adventure, Kookie,” he grins, his eyes twinkling despite the dim light. “A secret library party just for us, with the best soundtrack ever.”

Jungkook chuckles, a bubble of warmth breaking through the chill. “Yeah, a party with ghosts and leaky roofs.”

Taehyung snorts. “Ghosts are only scary in cheesy movies. And as for the roof, it’s just adding to the ambiance, like a giant rain drum.” He rummages through his bag, pulling out a worn deck of cards. “Wanna play some poker?”

Jungkook hesitates. Card games aren’t exactly his forte. “Uh– I don’t have any money on me to bet.”

Taehyung smirks.”Why don’t we use something else to bet?” He makes a show of looking around, thinking hard. “Why not bet our clothes?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, swallowing audibly. “S-sure,” he stutters, cheeks flushing a deep pink.

As Taehyung shuffles the cards, the silence settles again, punctuated by the rhythmic drumming of the rain. Jungkook finds himself studying Taehyung, the older man’s easy confidence a stark contrast to his own nervousness. 

“Hey,” Taehyung says softly, his gaze meeting Jungkook’s. “You okay?”

Jungkook blinks, surprised. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…never been stuck in a library during a storm before.”

Taehyung chuckles, “Neither have I. But hey, at least we’re together, right?”

Jungkook’s smile widens and he nods. The game starts awkwardly, with Taehyung dealing the cards out face down.  Jungkook worries at his lip and bets his socks to start off with, and Taehyung follows suit.

Jungkook takes a look at his cards; Jimin taught him how to play poker when he was younger, back in high school, when they would gamble their allowances. So, he tries to recall his memories from that as he looks at his hand: three Queens, a seven, and a six.

Taehyung snorts, eyeing Jungkook. “You know your poker face needs work.”

Jungkook laughs nervously, “No, I just haven’t played in years. The last time I played this was when Jimin was still living at home.”

Taehyung tries to mask his delight, feeling over-confident that he is going to wipe the floor with Jungkook. He watches the younger man, surprised when he decides to stay. Taehyung harrumphs cockily and raises Jungkook his cardigan. Jungkook's wide bambi eyes watch him innocently but sees Taehyung’s cardigan with his own jacket. 

Taehyung sits up straighter and proudly lays out his hand: two Jacks, two nines, and a two. Jungkook cocks his head, blinking slowly before laying out his own three-of-a-kind.

Taehyung’s jaw drops the silence echoing around them before being split by the sound of Jungkook’s giggle.

“You played me,” Taehyung bluntly states.

Jungkook gasps, hand to his chest. “Moi?”

Taehyung shoots him an accusatory look as he strips off his cardigan and pulls his socks off. “Yeah, you acted like you had a bad hand.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “No, you perceived that I had a bad hand by misinterpreting my reactions.”

Taehyung guffaws, “That’s the same thing!”

“Hmm, no, they’re different.” Jungkook gathers the forfeited clothes and sets them in a pile next to him.

“Semantics.” Taehyung scoffs and shoves the cards at Jungkook for him to deal.

The game continues, the two trading quippy barbs and silly jokes as the hours pass. Soon, they are sitting in the dim lighting, Taehyung in his boxers and just an undershirt, while Jungkook is shirtless and in just his boxer briefs. 

Suddenly, a deafening boom of thunder shakes the building, and a loud crack is heard from outside the window nearby; a large branch of the tree outside crashes to the ground.  Jungkook yelps, sending cards flying as he dives for cover under a nearby table. Taehyung stands, peering around in the dim lighting, and sees what caused the massive noise.

Taehyung calms his racing heart and moves over to the cowering younger man. “Kookie, it was just a branch breaking outside.” He offers his hand, urging him out of his hiding space. “Come on out.”

Jungkook laughs nervously, clutching at the other man’s hand, letting Taehyung pull him out from his improvised shelter. Jungkook stands, leaving inches between the two of them. Taehyung can’t help letting his eyes wander, taking in the large expanse of bare skin on display so close to him. Jungkook is in no better state. His eyes wander over the dark tan legs of his brother’s best friend, his imagination running wild.

Jungkook’s breath hitches as Taehyung’s free hand grazes his chest—the calloused pad of his thumb skims along a prominent rib. The touch lingers, sending a jolt of something electric through him that has nothing to do with the thunderstorm. He lifts his gaze, meeting Taehyung’s eyes, locked in a silent debate that crackles with unspoken desire.

The air around them seems to thicken, with the tang of ozone and something sweeter, more primal. Taehyung’s eyes, usually bright and playful, are smoldering now, a dark intensity that mirrors the anxiety brewing within Jungkook.

“Taehyung,” Jungkook whispers, his voice rough with nerves and something else, something he can’t quite name.

Taehyung responds with a low groan, his voice like the rumble of thunder, and leans in, the space between them shrinking to a hair’s breadth. Jungkook can feel the heat radiating from his body and smell the musky scent of sandalwood sweat—his heart hammers against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat accompanying the storm’s rhythm.

Jungkook’s lips part in a gasp as Taehyung’s breath mingles with his own, warm and humid like the air before a downpour. He can taste the faint salt of adrenaline, the sweetness of Taeyung’s cologne, and something deeper, something primal, that echoes the wild pounding in his chest.

Taehyung's thumb traces a lazy arc across Jungkook’s ribcage, each graze sending a shiver down his spine. His other hand, the one that lingers on the table, finds its way to Jungkook’s hip, pulling him closer, impossibly closer until their bodies are flush, skin burning against skin.

“Kookie,” Taehyung murmurs, his voice a smoky whisper against Jungkook’s ear. “You’re trembling.”

The accusation is both a taunt and a confession. Jungkook knows he isn’t the only one shaken. He can feel Taehyung’s heartbeat thrumming against his palm, a frantic counterpoint to his own.

“It’s the storm,” Jungkook chokes out, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue.

Taehyung laughs a low, breathy sound that sends shivers down Jungkook’s spine. “Thunder doesn’t make your eyes dilate like galaxies, Kookie.”

His fingers dip under the waistband of Jungkook’s boxer briefs, the rough fabric a stark contrast against the smoothness of his skin. They trace the lines of his hip bone, sending goosebumps dancing across his flesh. Jungkook leans into the touch, a moan escaping his lips as Taehyung brushes his knuckles lower. 

The space between them is a charged void, crackling with unspoken need. Jungkook meets Taehyung’s gaze, his voice barely a wiper. “Do you…” he begins, the words failing him.

Taehyung’s eyes flicker with understanding. He brushes a stray strand of hair from Jungkook’s forehead, his thumb lingering against the soft skin. “Do I want you, Kookie?” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. “Always have.”

With a sudden boldness, Jungkook closes the remaining distance, pressing his lips against Taehyung’s in a hesitant kiss. It is a spark, a tentative flame igniting in the storm. Taehyung responds with a groan, deepening the kiss, his lips hot and demanding against Jungkook’s.

Their tongues tangle, a desperate exploration of unchartered territory. Jungkook tastes rain, adrenaline, and a sweetness that is uniquely Taehyung. His hands fumble with the hem of Taehyung’s shirt, a desperate need to feel more, to touch every inch of him.

Taehyung mirrors his urgency, pulling Jungkook closer, his hands roaming up and over his back, tracing the curves of his spine. They stumble back, colliding with a bookshelf, sending a shower of leather-bound volumes scattering across the floor.

Laughter mingles with gasps as they further entangle themselves. The laughter dies down quickly and is replaced by a smoldering silence. Taehyung’s hands trail across Jungkook’s skin, brushing delicate touchpoints. Jungkook shivers, a delicious mix of anticipation and fear coursing through him. 

Taehyung’s eyes, dark and intense under the dim light, hold Jungkook captive. He leans in slowly, his lips hovering just a breath away from Jungkook’s ear.

“Let’s make this storm unforgettable,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly.

Jungkook’s heart stutters in his chest. Taehyung’s words hang heavy in the air, a promise of something wild and exhilarating that he can’t seem to deny. 

He nods, a silent agreement, and Taehyung’s lips meet his in a kiss that is both fierce and tender. Jungkook’s hands find their way into Taehyung’s hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. Their bodies tangle together as they makeout against the hard shelves of the bookcase. 

Time seems suspended as they strip each other of their remaining clothing items. Their mouths exchange heated exhales as they press tightly together, not leaving a modicum of space between them. Jungkook’s fingers press fervently into the deep caramel skin of Taehyung’s back. Their hips rut forward together, their lengths stroking against each other. 

A whine is pulled from the younger man’s throat, his head thrown back as he clings to the other. Taehyung gives a squeeze to his hips. “Give me one second.”

Taehyung dashes away, crouching next to his bag as he digs frantically through it. It’s only seconds, but feels like minutes before he returns triumphant, a travel-sized bottle of lube in his grip.

Jungkook eyes him warily. “Should I be concerned that you carry that around with you?”

Taehyung huffs, “Stop looking gift horses in the mouth, Kookie.” With a hand on the younger’s hip, he spins the man around. He can’t stifle the groan as he takes in the firm roundness of Jungkook’s tight ass.

His hands run over the smooth expanse, freely fondling the bounty in front of him until Jungkook whines at him and bucks his hips needily. Taehyung quickly uncaps the lube and coats two fingers. He warms the cool liquid before tracing the tight, puckered hole of the man in front of him. 

As Jungkook fights off the shiver that runs up his spine, he feels Taehyung’s long, tapered finger press inside. His head falls forward, his forehead thunking against the thick wooden shelf in front of him. He groans loudly at the delicious stretch as Taehyung works further inside.

Too soon, Jungkook is clinging desperately to the shelves as he nearly comes undone on Taehyung’s slender fingers. Taehyung presses sloppy, open-mouth kisses along Jungkook’s spine as he works him open. 

He curls three of his fingers inside the tight confines, and Jungkook cries out, begging for mercy. Taehyung chuckles low in his throat, enjoying taking the younger man apart.”You ready for me, baby?” Taehyung rasps.

“Yes! God, yes. Please, Tae!” Jungkook eagerly begs for relief.

With a slap to one of his firm cheeks, Taehyug withdraws his fingers, leaving Jungkook’s hole desperately clenching around nothing. Drawing his lip between his teeth, Taehyung quickly coats his length before replacing his fingers with his cock.

Both men moan loudly, the sound echoing off the thick tomes around them as Taehyung presses his hips forward and works deeper inside the other man. He doesn’t stop until his pelvis is pressed firmly to the round globes of Jungkook’s ass. Pausing, Taehyung works to catch his breath, trying not to lose his mind over the strangling grasp of the tight hole wrapped around him.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “Ready?”

Uncharacteristically, Jungkook demands, “Fucking move, Tae.” Punctuating the terse demand with a bucking of his hips back against Taehyung.

Taehyung’s lips part in a snarl as he grips the younger man’s hips and withdraws until only his tip remains before snapping his hips forward. He sets a hard rhythm, hips slapping fast and punishing against Jungkook’s ass. 

Jungkook does all he can to cling to the shelves in front of him as he is taken apart by Taehyung. His own cock repeatedly slaps against his bare abs, dripping a steady line of precum. It’s not long before Jungkook cries out, declaring he is close.

Taehyung’s fingers tighten on Jungkook’s hips as he drills even harder. Each thrust nailing that concentrated spot of nerves deep inside Jungkook. The younger screws his eyes shut, mouth dropping open as endless moans are fucked out of him relentlessly. 

It’s not long before Jungkook stiffens beneath Taehyung, and cries out as he releases all of the pent-up tension that had been building up between the two of them. Waves of pleasure rack through his body as Taehyung continues to thrust in and out of his clenching hole. 

Jungkook feels the bite of Taehyung’s nails as his hips stutter, losing their rhythm. With a few last thrusts, Taehyung’s hips still, and he can feel the thick cock pulsing deep inside of him. Taehyung slumps forward, barely catching himself by gripping the shelf above the one Jungkook is clinging to.

Both of their legs are trembling as Taehyung pulls out, a hiss echoing from both of their chests. Simultaneously, they seem to give in to the need to collapse and land in a heap, propped up against the hard shelves behind them. 

The echoes of their shared storm settle, leaving a peaceful hush in its wake. Their hearts, still humming in a shared rhythm, thrum against each other like a secret counterpoint to the rain’s gentle drumming. Moonlight filters through rain-washed windows, casting their bodies in silvery constellations, a testament to the intimacy they carved into the night.

Fingers intertwined, they trace lazy patterns on each other’s skin, the language of touch speaking volumes where words wouldn’t dare. Even in the quiet, the weight of their secret hangs heavy, a silent knowledge that their lives will forever be marked by this night. The library, once a have of dusty tomes and whispered knowledge, has become a silent witness to a new story blossoming in its heart.

Jungkook, eyes tracing the rain’s descent down the windowpane, feels a tremor of uncertainty. The path ahead, once familiar, now stretches before him like an unchartered map, filled with thrilling promises of possibility and chilling whispers of doubt. Will this survive the harsh light of day?

Taehyung, his gaze mirroring Jungkook’s introspection, squeezes his hand gently. In that silent gesture, a world of unspoken promises unfolds. Whatever comes next, they will face it together, navigating the unchartered waters of their new reality with the compass of their shared truth. 

As the first blush of dawn kisses the horizon, casting the library in a soft, golden light, they know they have crossed a threshold. The storm outside has subsided, leaving behind a world that’s washed clean, ready to be painted with the colors of their new story. And in that shared sunrise, they find a glimmer of hope, a promise that what was born in the heart of the storm might just be their guiding light.

#bangtanwhq #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfiction #bts ff #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jjk smut #smut #jimin and taehyung are best friends #brothers best friend #jimin and jungkook are siblings #jungkook x taehyung

[fics-by-em]

Amorous Facades - Chapter Two

A wild night out leaves the lives of Jamie Tartt and Ophelia Adams more intertwined than they ever would have imagined.

Will their decision to try and use the situation to their advantage work out in their favour or will they realize that they should have cut their losses when they had the chance?

———-

previous chapter

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Note: Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged or commented on the last chapter! I'm so excited to hear what everyone thinks about this story and every comment really means so much so please let me know what you think!

———-

There was something about pulling up outside her mediocre-at-best flat in Jamie’s fancy car that had the situation really hitting home for Lia. 

The contrast between her humble abode and his incredibly expensive vehicle had her realizing that she was entering a world that she had no business being in and that she didn’t really know what she was getting herself into. Jamie had so easily trusted her with a car that was so far out of her price range that it was hard to even imagine and maybe he made enough money that he didn’t care if she simply stole it and never spoke to him again or maybe it was worth the risk for what he potentially stood to gain, but she had agreed to move in with him - basically a complete stranger - with hardly more than a second thought and for very little potential reward. Her behaviour in the last twenty-four hours really was starting to feel like a perfect showcase for why alcohol was harmful to the human brain because clearly she’d lost all common sense.

But she was committed to it now. 

She’d promised Jamie that she would give it a try and she wasn’t going to back out before it even started - letting people down was just not something she was programmed to do - so, with a sigh, she pulled her phone out of her bag on the passenger seat beside her as she tried to work up the courage to go inside and face the storm that she knew was waiting for her. The twenty-eight unread text messages and fourteen missed calls from Katie were enough to make her want to drive away forever and start a new life somewhere else, but she knew that her friend would be worried - especially because she couldn’t remember saying goodbye to her before leaving the club with Jamie. She typed out and deleted several replies to the string of long and increasingly frantic messages, but in the end she decided that going inside and explaining things in person would be the right thing to do.

But she regretted that decision as soon as she walked through the door.

“What the fuck, Lia?!” Katie practically shrieked before she even had the chance to close the door behind her. “I’ve been worried sick about you!”

“I was fine,” Lia weakly argued, knowing how she would feel if the tables were turned. “I did message you to let you know that.”

She’d seen the message when she’d scrolled back through their conversation and she knew the garbled drunken text did very little to strengthen her argument and the roll of Katie’s eyes showed her agreement with that thought.

“That message was hardly reassuring, it made no sense!”

“Well, you didn’t seem very worried at the time.”

It was a fair counterpoint considering Katie had simply replied with something along the lines of ‘hope you’re having fun’ and a winking emoji, but the reminder did little to ease her flatmate’s frustration.

“Because I thought you left with Daniel!”

Even just the sound of his name had Lia’s mood quickly shifting. She’d felt guilty for vanishing and for ignoring Katie’s messages that morning while she sorted things out with Jamie - she completely understood why that would be worrisome for her friend and she knew she wouldn’t have appreciated the silence had she been in Katie’s position - but hearing those words leave Katie’s mouth had her suddenly no longer feeling very apologetic.

“Why would you think that?”

She didn’t even bother keeping the disgust out of her voice and Katie shrugged in response.

“Because we went to dance and when we came back you were both gone.”

“Well, I don’t know where he went,” Lia admitted. “But he stormed off shortly after you two went to the dancefloor - right after Jamie stopped him from attacking me.”

The look on Katie’s face could only be described as skeptical and Mike - who had been watching them quietly from the couch, staying out of it as he usually did when they started bickering about anything - drew their attention as he let out a groan of protest.

“We’re all tired, Lia,” he sighed. “Let’s not start with all that right now.”

There was something about his scolding, disappointed tone that had Lia wanting to do as he said and let it all go. He’d become like a brother to her over the years that he dated Katie and she didn’t want to hurt him or create any problems for him, but she was tired. She was tired of being forced to be around Daniel - a man who had never shown her even an ounce of respect - and being treated like a whiny baby whenever she tried to tell them how upsetting his behaviour was for her.

“I’m not trying to start anything, but it’s true,” she told them, keeping her voice soft in an attempt to prevent the usual argument. “He forced me to sit in his lap as soon as you two left the table and then when I managed to get away and headed to the bar, he followed me and tried to grab me even when I was very clear that I wanted him to stop.”

Katie had the decency to look surprised by what she shared, but Mike was clearly not bothered as he rolled his eyes.

“He just fancies you. He doesn’t know how to flirt, that’s all it is.”

A scoff fell from Lia’s lips as she couldn’t believe how easily he dismissed her concerns and her disbelief only deepened when she saw Katie relax as she accepted the way that Mike explained away his friend’s indiscretions. Maybe it was the fact that Daniel’s persistence the night before had truly frightened her or maybe it was because her hangover and her unbelievable morning had her already feeling emotionally maxed out, but she found herself quickly losing her patience and her ability to bite her tongue just to keep the peace.

“That’s not all it is,” she insisted. “He’s a predator! And I don’t want to think about what would have happened if Jamie hadn’t shown up when he did.”

“A predator?” Mike questioned, the word laced with incredulity. “He’s my best mate!” 

“I know that, but you still need to hold him accountable and I’m fed up of you making excuses for him,” she informed him, crossing her arms as she turned to face Katie. “And I’m supposed to be your best friend so it hurts that you always take Daniel’s side over mine.”

In an instant, any hint of sheepishness disappeared from Katie’s face as Lia’s accusation had her recoiling as if she’d been slapped.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you!” Her words were said with a laugh, but it was obvious that Katie didn’t find the situation at all amusing. “You wanna talk about betrayals? Why don’t we talk about how you got married without even telling me that you were seeing anyone!”

It felt like a cheap way to deflect from Lia’s very valid complaints, but she was surprised it hadn’t come up already and a sigh fell from her lips as she explained.

“I’m not married. That whole wedding last night was just for a laugh, it’s not a legal thing,” she assured her, but she braced herself for Katie’s reaction as she added, “But Jamie and I have been dating for a couple of months so we’re going to let people think that we’re married to see if it helps turn his reputation around a little bit.”

She’d hoped that by the time she had to explain their plan, she would have thought of a way to make it sound a little less insane, but from the dropped jaws and blank stares her news received it was obvious that it still seemed just as crazy as it had when Jamie had first suggested it. She gave them a moment to process her words, but just as she was about to offer some more reassurance, Katie found the strength to speak.

“Are you still drunk?” She blurted out. “You must still be drunk or I’m going to start worrying that you’ve lost the plot.”

“No, I’m completely sober.”

“Okay, then you’ve lost your mind,” Katie decided. “Because the Lia that I know would never agree to pretend to be married to a footballer that she doesn’t even know.”

“I do know him,” Lia insisted, feeling a pang of guilt for pushing the lie she was trying to sell to her best friend. “I told you, we’ve been dating for the last few months.”

“Oh, really?” Katie huffed, her hands settling on her hips as her scepticism was written all over her face. “Then why have I never heard about it? Or met him?”

“He asked me to be discreet,” Lia shrugged, the lie making her throat tighten as she tried to be convincing. “Until we were more serious. So I told you that I was working late if I was going to see him and he only stayed over if I knew you would be at Mike’s.”

“Where did you meet?”

“At the bookstore when I was working,” she informed her, thinking back to the story that they’d come up with in Rebecca’s office. “He came in looking for a book for his mum and I helped him find it.”

“I’m not surprised he needed help,” Mike sniggered from the couch. “I doubt Jamie Tartt could read any of the titles without someone there to help him sound out the words.”

It was similar to the joke that Roy had made and she remembered how much it had annoyed Jamie. As Katie laughed along with Mike, Lia suddenly felt a flash of protectiveness over her new ‘boyfriend’ and their ‘holier than thou’ attitude was really beginning to get under her skin.

“You don’t even know him,” she snapped. “But we’re moving in together so maybe you can come over sometime and actually meet him before you judge him so harshly.”

There was another stunned silence, but the next words out of Katie’s mouth only added to Lia’s frustration.

“Is he paying you?”

“No! You know I’m not like that! I care about him, Katie. We’d been talking about it anyway so with all this marriage stuff happening it just makes sense.”

“None of this makes any sense,” Katie huffed. “He’s a manwhore and from what I’ve seen he’s pretty proud of it so you must be really naive if you’re willing to go along with this insane scheme to trick the general public into thinking that Jamie Tartt isn’t a huge slut when he absolutely is.”

“He’s changed and he deserves a second chance.” Considering the brief amount of time she’d spent in his presence, Lia wasn’t entirely sure she believed that statement herself, but her irritation towards them had her giving a truly Oscar worthy performance as she defended her actions. “And I think it’s pretty disgusting that you’re more against me being with someone whose only supposed issue is that he used to be promiscuous than with a dangerous pervert like Daniel!”

“Oi!” Mike barked from the couch. “Stop slagging off my best mate!”

“Everything I’ve said about him is true and you both know it.” Lia’s gaze fell on Katie as she waited for her to speak up - to agree and finally take her side in the seemingly never ending debate - but Katie appeared to suddenly be very interested in a spec of dirt on the carpet and was no longer able to meet her eye. Tears pricked the corners of Lia’s eyes as she gave Katie a moment longer to do the right thing, but when she was met with a lingering silence, she scoffed as she shook her head. “Whatever. I’m going to go pack some things, but I’ll come back to get everything another day and I’ll pay rent for the next two months so you have time to find someone else or figure something out.”

Going into the conversation, Lia had planned to offer to pay her share of the rent indefinitely. With the uncertainty of her arrangement with Jamie, she didn’t want to set herself up to have nowhere to live in a couple of months if it all fell apart, but after what had been said and the continued lack of support in regards to Daniel’s unwanted advances, she was rethinking that decision. She felt hurt, she felt disrespected and she felt like staying in their flat or leaving the door open to return would just be accepting the way they minimized her feelings and would let them think that she was okay with everything that had happened.

She hesitated - leaving space for Katie to stop her, to finally take her side when it really and truly mattered - but when the only response was a huff of annoyance and a roll of her eyes, Lia hung her head and accepted the situation as she marched to her room to start packing her things.

The flat suddenly felt suffocating. 

The place that she’d called home for over a year now felt cold and unwelcoming and she was so desperate to get away that she was almost tempted to leave without taking anything, but she knew some time away from her so-called best friend would be the best choice and the only way to do that was to focus and take enough things to last her a couple weeks at least. 

She started working quickly - in an uncharacteristically unmethodical and sloppy way - and it didn’t take her long to have two suitcases and a few tote bags ready to go. Not eager for another argument to start, she was anxious to even leave her room and was almost relieved by the cold shoulder she received from Katie as she took the first couple of loads out to the car. However, she wasn’t going to leave without saying goodbye so as she leaned her final suitcase against the door, she paused.

“Alright, well that’s it for now,” she informed the couple who were sitting on the couch. “I’ll let you know when I come back for everything else.”

“Okay,” Katie nodded and the wounded look on her face almost made Lia feel guilty for rushing off after their argument, but the words that followed had her guard immediately going back up. “I just have to ask, who told you this whole pretend marriage thing was a good idea?”

“Well, it was Jamie’s idea,” she admitted. “But I agreed and so did AFC Richmond’s head of marketing.”

“Is that Keeley Jones?” 

Despite the surprise she felt at Katie’s sudden knowledge of the staffing team of a random football club, it seemed like an innocent enough question and Lia nodded her head. 

“Yeah, it is.”

“Well, that explains a lot,” Katie laughed, a smirk sliding onto her face that had Lia’s stomach tightening in knots. “Did you know that she’s his ex-girlfriend? She’s probably just pawning him off on you to get him out of her own hair.”

While that little tidbit of information had Lia feeling very confused and surprised that no one had thought to mention it at their meeting, what bothered her the most was how smug Katie was as she told her. She wasn’t sharing the news with the intention of gently coaxing Lia away from a situation that she thought was bad, she was sharing it to prove a point in some kind of big ‘gotcha’ moment. So, Lia kept her face steady as she shrugged.

“I know, we’ve met before,” she lied. “But she isn’t pawning him off on me, I care about him and I want to be with him.”

Her insistence was met with nothing more than another sarcastic laugh from her friend and Lia turned away, walking out the door without even wasting her breath to say goodbye.

------

Should I be concerned?

The text came through from her father that evening as Lia sat at the table in the dining area of Jamie’s kitchen - her kitchen - with a mug of tea in front of her. She felt a flash of anxiety as a link to the article came through immediately after to let her know what he was referring to and she quickly typed out a reply.

No, everything’s fine. I’m not married but if anyone asks, just tell them I am. I’ll explain tomorrow.

Almost immediately he sent back a thumbs up and a heart and after her disastrous experience with Katie that afternoon, she was relieved that he was choosing to take a more understanding approach. She wasn’t entirely sure that he’d be happy about the situation once he found out all the details, but she knew that he would support her no matter what and she was still reeling from the disappointment of finding out that her best friend didn’t feel the same.

She let out a sigh as she put her phone back down on the counter and looked around the room. She hadn’t been entirely surprised to find Jamie’s cupboards and fridge rather lacking when it came to food. There were plenty of protein powders and energy drinks, but the kitchen was pretty devoid of anything with any real nutrition. The house was tidy though - more so than she’d expected from a young, hotshot bachelor - and it was far more luxurious than the tiny two bedroom flat that she’d been living in before.

Again, she found herself reflecting on the fact that pretending to be married to Jamie Tartt wasn’t the worst situation in the world, but when she heard the door handle click as it turned and the creak of the front door opening she couldn’t deny the nerves that hit her.

Strolling into the kitchen a moment later, Jamie flashed her a smile as he tossed his coat onto the back of one of the chairs across from her.

“Hiya, you alright?”

“Yeah, you?”

She tried to match his welcoming smile, but it felt strained and from the skeptical look that slid onto Jamie’s face, he’d noticed it too.

“Yeah,” he nodded, reaching down to his coat pocket. “I actually got something for ya.”

“You did?” The surprise was clear in her voice, but she couldn’t deny that after the combative afternoon she’d had the gesture had her feeling very touched. However, when he slid a small velvet box across the table and she opened it to reveal a much larger and fancier ring than the one currently resting on her finger, the surprise shifted into shock and awe. “Jamie…this is too much. I can’t accept it.”

“Course you can,” Jamie insisted. “Can’t have you walkin’ around with a ring like that. It looks like I bought it at Poundland.”

Despite her reluctance to accept the expensive gift sitting in front of her, his observation was very accurate and Lia couldn’t hold back the giggle that slipped from her lips.

“You probably did buy it at Poundland,” she mused, admiring the cheap ring on her finger. “Where else would we have found rings in the middle of the night? Especially ones this tacky.”

“Exactly, that’s why you need one that’s a bit more flashy,” Jamie insisted. “And then when this is all over you can sell it or whatever, get something for your trouble.”

“Oh, I see, this is your sneaky way of still trying to pay me for all this.”

“No!” An indignant scowl slid onto Jamie’s face, but his furrowed brow relaxed as Lia’s attempt at keeping a straight face broke into a smile. “You can keep it forever for all I care. Save it as a memory of me to get you through those long, lonely nights.”

“I’m sure it’ll provide a lot of comfort.”

The sarcasm in her voice had Jamie chuckling softly as he wandered into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water as Lia carefully took her new rings out of their box. She had to credit him for his good taste. Even though it was flashier than the costume jewellery they’d found the night before, it was simple and classy and she had to admit that it was almost exactly the kind of ring that she would like to be given in a real proposal. However, she was well aware that it was probably worth more than she earned in at least six months and the weight of how indulgent it felt to wear such a beautiful piece of jewellery weighed heavily on her finger as she slid it into place.

“Looks nice,” Jamie commented as he joined her again at the table. “So, why’d you look so miserable when I walked in here? Hope it wasn’t because you were thinking about being stuck with me.”

The sudden change in topic caught her off guard, but she was quickly learning that Jamie didn’t seem like the type to beat around the bush. He was direct, but she couldn’t quite figure out if he just didn’t want to waste time by sugarcoating things or if he just didn’t care enough to.

“No, I wasn’t,” she assured him. “I was just thinking about how I’m in the market for a new best friend.”

“Oh,” Jamie frowned. “Is she not a fan of me?”

“Apparently not,” she admitted. “And I think she thinks that’s why I’m upset, but for me it’s more to do with the man you saved me from last night.”

A flash of something dark crossed over Jamie’s face - something that felt almost protective - and Lia felt a little flicker of comfort despite the loneliness she’d been feeling before he came home.

“Yeah? What’s the story with that prick?”

“His name is Daniel and he’s my best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend,” she explained, pausing as she watched him try to mentally follow the trail of people connecting her to the man in question. “He’s always made me uncomfortable. Even though I’ve told him a million times that I’m not interested in him, he keeps pestering me and trying to convince me.to give him a chance. He touches me all the time in ways that I don’t think are appropriate, but everyone just laughs it off when I complain about it. They make excuses for him all the time and I’ve had enough of it. I think that’s why he got so aggressive last night because I finally lost my patience with him and really put my foot down.”

“You should’ve used your foot to kick him in the fucking balls,” Jamie suggested. “Men like that are fucking disgusting.”

“I’m glad you agree. I told them about what happened when I went to get my stuff this morning and they just kept dismissing it and acting like I was overreacting, I was starting to feel like I was the crazy one,” Lia admitted, feeling a genuine wave of relief that Jamie hadn’t taken their side. From how quickly he’d come to her rescue the night before, she was fairly certain that he’d realized the severity of the situation, but she’d heard enough stories about professional athletes to doubt Jamie’s true intention when he’d helped her out. Which led her to her next point. “And then Katie started acting like you potentially being a bit promiscuous was just as bad - if not worse - than how Daniel had behaved and it just really upset me.”

The dark look quickly slid back onto Jamie’s face and Lia wondered if perhaps she should have kept that information to herself. 

“Are you serious? That’s a fucking joke,” he protested. “I mean, I’ve been lucky over the years, you know, sexually and yeah, maybe I could’ve been more respectful sometimes after the fact, but my mum raised me right and I would never harass a girl who tells me no or says she’s not interested.” 

There was a pleading edge to his voice that cut through his understandable indignation as if he wanted her to know that what he was saying was true and there was something sincere about his annoyance that had her nodding her head.

“I believe you,” she assured him. “I know we barely know anything about each other and I don’t know much about why your reputation is in such dire need of repair, but I’m very grateful for how you stepped in last night and I think you seem like a pretty decent guy.”

“I’m trying to be,” he insisted before adding a little more information, “But I’ve been known to be a little bit of cocky, selfish twat.”

His blunt admission had a laugh falling from Lia’s lips as she covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself from spitting tea all over the table.

“Well, it’s big of you to admit that now.”

“It’s true, I can’t deny it,” Jamie shrugged. “It’s…complicated. I just always felt that I had to be the best and then I was the best and I knew it. And I was so worried that people might think I’m weak that I acted so tough that no one could ever doubt me. But I can see now that it isn’t worth it, that it’s better to be a team player. I’m just trying to figure out how.”

“I think the fact that you can see your own faults and actually want to improve is a pretty great start,” Lia mused. “We all have flaws and being cocky and selfish aren’t impossible things to fix.”

“I hope so, but it’s left me with a few bridges to build.”

“And I’m sure you can do it.”

Lia flashed him what she hoped was a supportive smile and was relieved when he matched it with one of his own.

“So, what did the rest of your friends and family think about us being married?” He asked. “I hope I haven’t turned everyone against you.”

“No, I don’t think you have,” Lia assured him. “But the only person who’s reached out is my dad and he’s not worried.”

“No?”

“He trusts me,” she explained before laughing to herself at how ridiculous that claim might seem based on what Jamie knew of her. “Contrary to what last night might make you think, I don’t usually do wild stuff like get wasted and marry strangers. I don’t even drink very often and I almost never drink enough to not remember the whole night so he probably knows that I have a decent explanation for whatever happened.”

“Do you?”

There was a hint of a smirk on his face as he questioned her that had her giggling again as she shrugged.

“No, I guess not, but I work at the bookstore with him so I have until tomorrow to come up with something reasonable.”

“Good luck to you,” Jamie teased. “And let me know if you do.”

“I will,” Lia smiled. “But what about you? How did your teammates take it? Have you told your family?”

“The team didn’t care, but I don’t know if most of them really care about me at all right now. And I don’t talk to my dad much, but I told my mom.” Just the mention of his mother had a soft smile sliding onto his face and Lia felt a flicker of endearment at his obvious love for her. “She told me me that you look smart.”

That claim had Lia barking out a laugh as she stared at him in disbelief.

“She saw a picture of me drunkenly marrying her son and thought that made me seem intelligent?”

“She’s a good judge of character.” Jamie told her, the pride shining through in his voice. “And she wants to meet you actually.”

“In Manchester?” Lia’s eyes lit up as she felt a flicker of excitement that only grew when Jamie shrugged and nodded his head. “That would be nice. I love Manchester, I spent a lot of time up there when I was younger.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Lia nodded, smiling at how hopeful he sounded. “My aunt’s a teacher so I used to spend most summers with her so I didn’t have to go to work every day with my dad over the school break and her husband is proper Mancunian so they’ve lived there for as long as I can remember.”

“Proper Mancunian?” Jamie asked, suddenly looking a little sheepish. “Is he City or United?”

There wasn’t very much that Lia knew about football, but she was informed enough to know that those were the names of the two big teams in Manchester. However, she wasn’t informed enough to know exactly how to answer.

“Um, is one of them blue?” She asked, waiting for him to confirm before she continued with more confidence. “Then that’s the one he likes, the one that wears light blue.”

“Ah, probably won’t like me much either then.”

“Oh,” Lia frowned. “Why not?”

“I used to play for them, for Manchester City” he explained. “I left when I went on that show and definitely burned a few bridges. Almost wrecked my whole career actually, I don’t know what I’d be doing right now if Richmond hadn’t taken me back.”

There was a sadness in his voice as he made that confession that really tugged on Lia’s heart. She believed that he was capable of being a ‘cocky twat’ as he’d so delicately put it - his own admissions and Katie’s harsh judgements supported that fact and she’d seen glimmers of it throughout their conversations - but even in their brief time together, it was obvious that there was more to him than most people thought. He had a softer side - a sweeter, funny side - and Lia felt a renewed sense that she was doing the right thing. He was clearly troubled by something and if he needed to get the public off his back and turn their opinion around to give him the confidence to work through his issues and become a better person than she was happy to help him out.

“Your team can’t care about you as little as you think then,” she pointed out. “They must think you deserve a second chance.”

“Or they just want to win and know I can help ‘em out.”

“Well, whatever the reason they let you back in, I’m sure you can win them over and prove to them that you’re trying to change,” she assured him. “And once my uncle thinks we’re together, he won’t say a bad word about you. He loves me too much to disrespect my boyfriend - or husband - so maybe he’ll put in a good word for you with the rest of the City fans too.”

Jamie didn’t look convinced, but he appreciated her support enough to accept her words of comfort without any arguments and a silence fell between them as Lia finished her now cold tea before a yawn slipped from her lips. She glanced at her phone and saw that it wasn’t quite nine o’clock, but the wild night before and lingering hangover had her already itching for bed.

“So,” she started, catching Jamie’s attention again. “Can you show me where the guest room is?”

She watched as his face went from confused to understanding until it settled on something a little sheepish.

“I can, yeah,” he nodded. “But there’s not much in there. Just some spare gym equipment.”

“That’s okay. As long as there’s a bed, that’s all I need.”

“There’s just some spare gym stuff,” Jamie repeated. “That’s all there is, there’s no bed.”

Flooded with a flash of panic, Lia stared at Jamie for a moment as she tried to puzzle out if he was joking.

“You can’t be serious,” she groaned as the look on his face made it clear that he was. “Where does your mum sleep when she visits you?”

“She hasn’t been since I moved here,” he shrugged. “Figured I’d buy one if anyone ever did visit, but I haven’t got around to it yet and it hasn’t been an issue.”

Her initial anxious reaction quickly shifted into one of annoyance as she couldn’t believe that he’d asked her to move in without realizing that he had nowhere for her to actually sleep, but her exhaustion left her quickly resigning herself to her fate.

“I guess I’ll just take the couch then.”

“No, I can’t have you doing that,” Jamie insisted, looking at her like she’d suggested something truly farfetched. “We can just share my bed.”

The panic came back as she felt her cheeks heat up at the thought of spending the night curled up in bed beside him and the smirk that slid onto Jamie’s face as he noticed the flush of colour only added to her embarrassment.

“Won’t that be weird?”

“Why would it be?” He countered. “We did last night, didn’t we? I don’t want you sleeping on the couch and if I do then I’ll be done in for training tomorrow.”

It was a valid point and it only took a minute of mulling it over for Lia to realize that sharing a bed wasn’t really that outrageous. She’d shared a bed with Katie several times over the years in a completely platonic way so there was no reason why she couldn’t do the same with Jamie and since they had no idea how long their little arrangement was going to last, it didn’t make sense for one of them to suffer indefinitely by sleeping on the couch - even though she was sure that Jamie’s couch was top of the line and probably more comfortable than her own bed had been.

“Okay,” she nodded in agreement after her moment of thought. “You’re right, it makes the most sense. Do you mind if I go to bed now? I’m pretty tired and I have work in the morning.”

“Course I don’t mind,” Jamie assured her. “I’ll help you with your suitcase.”

“Oh, you don’t have to…”

Her protests fell on deaf ears as Jamie rose from the table and headed down the hall to where she’d left her things by the front door. She tried again to stop him and was ignored once again, but she had to admit that the way his muscles strained under his shirt as he carried her heavy suitcase up the stairs had her wondering if she’d really be able to resist the temptation that came with sharing a bed with such a handsome and fit man.

-

chapter three

#jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x ofc #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso #jamie tartt #amorous facades

[myassbrokethefall]

xf rewatch: ice/space/fallen angel

one thing about me is I know how important it is to stick to a consistent posting schedule. anyway here’s 3 more XF rewatch writeups after weeks of silence

ice

Ice doesn’t deserve to be just lumped in here, but I watched it forever ago and I’ve seen it a million times and no one needs my thoughts on it anyway. Biggest Ice takeaways this time through:

this is M&S’s, and our, first truly grownup episode. M&S have been faffing around in their shoulder pads debating about whether aliens are real and if a jersey devil could be a girl and and certainly getting in scrapes/close calls, but this shit is SERIOUS. like they could die. and they know it. and this ep feels it. they are scared, they are wild-eyed and sweaty in their casual thermals and this is not just investigating a Case or intellectual sparring. there is no remove. no one is wearing a suit or renting a car or buying an office sandwich from the cart. they keep getting in deeper and deeper and it is out of control and scary and real as shit

that exterior shot with the extremely fake Rudolph snowflakes is used, I believe my final count was, 472 times. and was hilarious to me each and every time.

ice is a magnificent ep, no notes. we knew this

space

Space is… not good, which is not news but allow me to attempt to pinpoint why:

pacing so bad. like in the beginning some stuff (conveyed mostly through stock footage) is happening and then suddenly mulder and scully are there and it’s like, a case I guess? this lady walks up to them and shows them this photo that looks like nothing and spends like an hour explaining it to them and is like the fbi has to investigate this! and mulder and scully are like oh, well we’re the fbi so we can do that. then they go to nasa and just stand around

listen I love, LOVE a good nerd infodump but even for me it was all getting deeply tedious and I ceased being able to, or having the will to, follow what was going on. And I just read and enjoyed all 864 pages of Seveneves. Having scully stand next to mulder and he has to keep explaining to her every space thing as it happens just adds this extra layer of shellac over everything. it’s like when you’re on a plane and you kind of half-voluntarily watch a movie in the row ahead of you through the seat backs. primo chris carter “tell don’t show.”

the whole car accident sequence is a facepalm from beginning to end. the car literally FLIPS OVER, michelle is in there yelling and sounding mostly just mildly pissed off, mulder keeps chirping “y’all right?” like she tumbled into a snowbank in a hallmark movie, then bodily drags her out from her flipped-over car that she is trapped under, and THEN scully goes “now, don’t try to move.” thanks doc! then michelle just goes back to NASA, with blood dripping down her face (which continues actively dripping throughout the scene, with no trace of a scar the next day). couldn’t hitting a tree have conveyed the sense of “a malevolent space monster made me lose control of my driving” just as well? presumably the car explodes as soon as they leave. and no one minds.

I realize this is not an easy thing to replicate on a budget, but my god “mission control” is sad-looking. it looks like it was filmed inside the janitor’s closet at a puppet theater. and the only person who works there is that one guy who I am informed was a canadian vj on MuchMusic and who has literally all the dialogue. (counterpoint: hard for me not to compare to For All Mankind, which does all this a million times better, but deeply unfair to do so since that's not only 25 years later but the theme on which this episode is kind of the saddest crackerjackiest variation is their show's entire job and budget.)

Mulder And Scully At The (NASA) Library: Approved. Love how they just leave the file they spent hours searching for when they run out.

what even was the motivation of the space/mars guy. to get back to space? to kill everyone? to kill everyone but only after getting back to space first? to bring down more space/mars guys to cause dramatically bad car accidents where everyone is fine? yes I know the REAL motivation is "give mulder and scully a semi-plausible paranormal reason to go to nasa and stand around"

the “everyone cheers in mission control because a scary/tense space thing was accomplished and everyone is ok” moment happened I think 3 separate times?? chris come on

this episode is still like 5x as coherent and watchable as any of CC’s revival episodes (other than Plus One).

one good thing is the space face morphing or whatever was super cool/creepy and holds up quite decently as an effect. also scully saw it!! well that’s cool! she doesn’t really seem to have any particular thoughts about that or anything though. you might think Mulder would bring that up more in the future. (morgan & wong: “well scully can’t SEE the paranormal thing so let’s have her juuuust miss it! twice!” chris carter: *file not found*)

I get that CC wanted to make a tense NASA episode, I like that genre of thing, and I appreciate that they took a stab at it but in the end, the execution was not the greatest. nor was the concept. ah well.

fallen angel

fallen angel was a friggin breath of fresh air after space, and I remembered NOTHING about it beyond a bit of Max and “the enigmatic Dr. Scully.”

the gordon/gansa ripping off of scifi classics continues apace as the whole evacuating for a “toxic spill” that is really a UFO is of course straight out of Close Encounters.

although I (correctly) complained about this in Space, I actually liked how we got sort of sideways-pulled into this one, with the scenario setup first and then we see Mulder (only Mulder) skulking around while we are flashing back to Deep Throat giving him the lowdown. immediately understandable that this is kind of an off-book adventure for him (leather jacket for forest hiking, perfect). And super satisfying when Scully gets her hero’s entrance to bail him out (and yell at him).

it was fun getting an idea of mulder as UFO Celebrity. always mobbed by fans while in air force jail. rough. (also funny to see his sheepishness at getting called out for writing an article in Omni about UFO sightings under a fake name)

Loved Scully getting pulled into some clutch doctoring. Just some great dimension for her as well/a reminder that she has her own areas of expertise and this FBI sidekick situation is not all she can do. (she is also still heartbreakingly in her "the government cannot do that! you are entitled to the truth!" phase.) I also loved when she marches glassy-eyed into Mulder’s motel room after a long rough night and wordlessly opens the fridge.

I liked the bit where mulder is talking about Max being an abductee and scully is all, mulder he's unreliable and he might be psychotic blah blah and mulder goes, scully you don’t get it, HE doesn’t think he’s an abductee, I think it. Also brings back a bit of what I liked so much in the pilot and earliest eps: scully being like mulder your crazy alien voodoo isn't gonna work on me!!! a martian didn't eat those livers!!! and mulder being like, scully, all I am asking is that you look at a scar and give me your medical opinion. he's not trying to talk her into anything and that's how he GETS YA

Interesting to see how they're still throwing out whatever alien concepts at this point. they are benevolent and send reassuring messages through the tv to loved ones? sure. they are evil spirits that possess astronauts' faces before killing them? got it. they're invisible/use cloaking devices to pass through lasers? duly noted.

I’m not sure the ending worked great but that’s ok. Gotta end it somehow. I found myself glad to know that we will be seeing Max again.

On a scale between Ice where Mulder and Scully are believably layered humans, frightened but determined, shakily wielding their authority one minute and losing their shit in realistically overlapping off-camera arguments in the next, and Space where they are sidelined Mary Sues in a half-baked NASA fanfic that could have used another beta, Fallen Angel is somewhere in the middle. Good ep, not great. But that yearning feeling that XF was so good at is present here. Something big is happening and it's JUST beyond where we can see. gotta see it. gotta keep searching. it's out there (the truth)

#xf rewatch rambling #ice #space #fallen angel

[damadisangue]

I am justified I am purified I am sanctified Inside you.

Possession has now become an obsession, a torment that pushes him to sink into her until he elicits a moan and a whimper from her. He lifts his face slightly from her hair, pressing a hand around her throat — admiring the blush spreading across her cheeks, into her eyes, where the iris has taken on a faint shade of orange. She is wet between her thighs, Alex; warm and welcoming - the only part of her that doesn't cut, and doesn't hurt. He watches her for a few more moments, fascinated by the way her cunt contracts around his cock - by the total abandon with which she allows him to abuse her, granting him a pale, smooth body that more often than not drips blood for him.

With him.

Alex arches upwards, reversing their positions and letting herself go on him in a fluid, languid movement - a light, quiet sigh between her lips. Wesker places a hand on her abdomen, enjoying the surprised expression she gives him when he presses, curling his clawed fingers slightly and imprinting crescents of blood below her navel, above the mound of Venus. She lets out a broken gasp, Alex, grabbing his wrist and leaning back - the change in angle catching him off guard, proving to him, once again, how ridiculous his belief that he had any control over her was. Wesker props himself up on his elbows, brushing his fingers across her face; Alex continues to move on his cock, biting his thumb when he traces her lower lip, then coaxing it with the tip of her tongue and laughing as his gaze darkens - the iris burning, the pupil nothing more than a thin slit and blackish. The lights of the surveillance monitors draw new edges on their bodies, the buzz of radio signals acts as a counterpoint to their breathing - in the air argan and leather, maninka and blood. Wesker kisses her

devours her 

and Alex comes, calling his name, evoking him like the monster in the fairy tale and holding him close until her orgasm dies down in a series of small shudders that leave her soft, compliant with his thrusts, his impatience. For a moment - as her orgasm consumes him - he feels like he can truly make her his forever.

@madbedlam is always a certainty; her art is spectacular and I can never thank her enough for giving shape to my words. Here another masterpiece.

#albert wesker #alex wesker #my fanfiction #resident evil #weskers #alex wesker x albert wesker #albert wesker/alex wesker #weskercest #post resident evil 5