#everything makes more sense if they know each other in some ways with breathtaking intimacy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohallthecrushes · 3 years

Text

His first time with you aka Take me on a couch // Arthur Fleck x Reader

A/N: This is based on a very vivid and realistic dream I had, a dream that I really didn't want to wake up from. It took me some time to finish it, beacuse the dream had more creepy ending and this one is more sweet and less disturbing. ^^ Warnings: pure smut 👀 Word counts: 2126

His rough and impatient but surprisingly soft and gentle hands were dancing all over your body, his fingers fidgeting with pieces of fabric before he took every part of your clothes, one by one. You tried to help him as you were shifting your body while he was taking your shirt and then your trousers off, though he didn't look like he needed your help. It was clear he was determined to undress you whether you help him or just sat on your couch not moving at all. But you didn't want him to accidentally rip your clothes off, so you moved your limbs as he removed every piece of fabric from your body. When it came down to your pants you wanted to wait a bit before you put up your arse, but your body was pushed down and your pants was already pulled down, so you just gulped as you realized you were totally naked in front of Arthur.

How things had gone so far? You did not know.

Only 20 minutes ago you two had only been making out. And as always it included only kissing on lips and sometimes your neck and him ghostly touching your boobs. Things never had gotten any further than that. Even when you tried to guide his hand under your shirt, he'd never touched your bare breast. Until today, when he acted like he was someone else, someone more bold, eager and daring. You wondered when his confidence came from and whether it had to do something with him going off his meds. It was... breathtaking. As you were lying on your back, he took a good look at you and you could feel blushing under his stare. He was still with his clothes on and it made you feel even more naked. The bulge in his pants must had been painful to keep it in his trousers, but he was too focus on you right now. You covered your breast, overwhelmed by this. - No - his voice low as always, but husky and filled with desire - don't cover them. You uncertainly put your hands away, placing them on both of your sides and then Arthur started to unbutton his shirt and undo his trousers. His eyes were still on you and yours were on him. You watched him slowly discovering more and more of his skinny body to you. His erection popped out of his pants like a clown popping out of a jack in the box. When he had quickly done undressing himself, he hovered above you like a hungry wolf. His curls hang loosely and his hands landed on you unplanned, discovering your body as if he wanted to cover you all with his touch. You remember him being too shy to even touch your boobs and now his hands were wandering all over you like he himself forgot how shy he was. He was humming as his eyes landed on your breast. You again moved your hands unsure even of what you were going to do, but he captured them with his and gently but firmly pinned them back to the couch. His mouth kissed his way from your collarbone to your right nipple as he wrapped his lips around it and sucked it slightly. You closed your eyes and wished you could dive your fingers into his hair. His tongue was warm, his mouth wet, his curls dabbing your skin as he moved back to your neck to suck on skin there. He left a few hickeys he wasn't aware of. You felt his hand let go of yours and slipped between your thighs. He rubbed your folds, gently and slowly, before he spread your petals. - You're so wet - he said with a lower voice than his normal one, surprised a bit, but with a curiosity and noticeable excitement. - Mhmh - you replied, not sure of what to say. You couldn't remember when was the last time when you felt so aroused. Arthur didn't do much yet and what he was doing now was a little clumsy and even random as he was experimenting blindly, and yet you could feel yourself yearning for him so much it was absurd. His finger found your entrance and worked inside you, in and out, too slow for your liking and you groaned with disapproval when he removed it way too soon. - Y/N... - his warm breath tickled your ear. You raised your eyebrow waiting for him to speak, until you realized that he wasn't going to say anything, he just wanted to say your name. His wet fingers, that was inside you a moment ago, played with your nipple as he kissed you and lowered his body on top of yours. His weight, his hot skin, his bony chest, his erection... You could feel it dominating your senses, keeping you down and preventing you from escaping. Not that you wanted to escape, but the thought of him dominating you entirely was very exciting. His erection was rubbing against your folds as you parted your legs for him. It took him less than a few strokes to decide he wanted to be inside you now, though he needed a bit of your help to do that. You reached down and took his shaft guiding him into your entrance. He pushed slowly and stopped in half way, closing his eyes. A small smile appeared on his face - satisfaction, content, excitement and something more, something you couldn't name. It was like something was buried deep inside him, a whisper of an old undying desire that he finally caught with

his conscious mind. He finally understood what intimacy, physical closeness and relief of sexual tension really meant. You caught his lips in a soft kiss as you wrapped your legs around his hips and pushed him deeper inside you. He gasped and opened his eyes. He wanted to say how he felt right now, how amazing that feeling was and how much he loved you, but no words he could find that could describe his feelings precisely enough. He stared at you for a while with his dark green eyes. His fingers gently brushed your hair as he smiled softly. - I can't believe this is finally happening - he said with a higher voice than he meant to, full of excitement and enthusiasm. His length twitched inside you in anticipating and he started moving inside you slowly with an uneven pace at first, but it didn't take him long before he found out how he liked it the most. The realization came natural to him like some of his funnier jokes. He just knew how to do it. Slow and deep, lying on top of you, bodies as close to each other as they could, eye contact and kisses. He felt confident right now, like he finally crossed the line between a boy and a man. He was always the man of a house, but he never felt like a man of a woman. This was the part of him that was always missing. A part that he was ridiculed for at school and then at work. A virgin was an insult directed at him by others. He endured it most of his life. It wasn't easy, especially when he grew up and his needs and desires only got stronger, the thoughts of going to a hooker and get over it crossed his mind, but losing his virginity was a big deal to him. He didn't want to just do it technically with a stranger. He wanted someone special to share the experience with. He wanted feelings to be involved. He was romantic at heart. When he found you and discovered that you liked him, wanted him the same way, he was thrilled. He'd been waiting for someone like you his whole life. He didn't know how to pleasure a woman and he wasn't sure what you liked exactly and to his embarrassment he didn't know how to ask and form his questions, but you looked like you enjoyed what he was doing, so he just kept working his hips and kissed your parted lips. You caressed his back in return, your hands were touching every bone and muscles moving under his skin. His shoulder blade, the one that was sticking out, you could felt it shifting under your fingertips. The spot between his shoulder blades was covered with sweat. You traced his backbone with your fingers down to his sacrum and you placed your hand on his butt cheek. His mouth planted kisses on your jaw and neck as he whispered something unintelligible, whether to you or to himself, you weren't sure. His shaft filled you up hitting your sweet spot from time to time if you shifted your hips in the right way. His soft moans was vibrating in your ears, giving you the thrills and his hand on top of your head as the other grasping your thigh, kept you in place. When you thought that you got to the beginning of your climax, he suddenly slowed down. - We should go to the bedroom - he said. - No, why, the couch is good. - But it's not as comf- - Please, Arthur, I'm close. You didn't want to stop now to take time and change the place. You didn't want to lose your climax. It felt too god now. You begged him with your eyes and how could he not comply? Especially that he was close too. He went back to his previous pace and felt like your walls clamping around his cock like you didn't want him to escape. The tightness, the pulsing, your soft moans and the way your body was trembling underneath him, it was enough for him to get to his orgasm too. He pounded into you faster and deeper, not giving you any breaktime to calm down. The sensation you felt only increased and you screamed with pleasure digging your nails into the skin on his back. He growled at that and finished inside you, pumping you with his cum. You didn't expect it to be so intense and you felt almost sorry for his back being scratched. He weighed you down with his body as

he breathed onto your neck tired but satisfied, his face hidden and his curls tickling your cheek. You wrapped your arms around him and kept him close as he whispered his thanks to you. - Thank you, thank you, thankyou, thankyou - For what? - you chuckled softly. - Everything, I don't know, just... I... - he lifted his head, his face was blushed and his forehead was covered with sweat. - I l-love you. - I love you too - you smiled at him. He smiled back and rested his head on your shoulder, his face in the crook of your neck where he put his kisses, refusing to pull apart from you. You didn't want to break away either. You let him lie on top of you as you played with his hair and listening to his sweet talking about how he'd imagined it would go and how amazing it was, and how much he loved you. He also asked you about your own impressions and asked if you were alright and did it feel good to you too. You listened to him with a smile, knowing that he was relaxed enough to open up to you. When you both decided it was a time to clean yourselves up, Arthur stood up first, looking in hurry for any tissues. He came back with one and gently, very gently clean up your oversensitive parts. He threw the used tissue away and leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead. When you said you needed go to the bathroom, he almost followed you up to the bathroom door, asking if you want a glass of water or maybe something to eat. You told him to wait in a bedroom and you found him there a bit later, neatening up the pillows for you. His hunger and intimitading part of his personality was gone for now and he came back to being very lovely and sweet. He wanted to take time for a proper aftercare, even though he wasn't sure what to do and his only knowledge came from Dr. Sally's talk show. It was admirable, and it made your heart swelled with love. You came up to him and kissed him before you both crawled on the bed to cuddle. As you were lying on his chest, slowly falling asleep, your thoughts were floating around everything that had happened today. You always wondered what sex with Arthur would be like and now you knew: it was sloppy, experimating, surprisingly intimidating but very passionate and mostly gentle and tender.

#arthur fleck #joker #arthur fleck x reader #joker x reader #arthur fleck imagines #joker arthur fleck

273 notes · View notes

gojology · 3 years

Text

Jealousy. (Extra)

You can find Jealousy here: Part One Part Two Part Three 𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | sorry for the inactivity, i’ve been taking a break. regardless, i’m super happy because i finished most of my hw! someone wanted an extra of my fic Jealousy, so that’s what im doing. you may have noticed this isn’t very good, but i haven’t written in a while so bear with me :( 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Teen! Gojo Satoru x Gender Neutral Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 1167 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | I didn’t exactly proof read this, and it’s rushed, so expect a lot of reusing of words and just overall not amazing writing. Cursing, ALL CHARACTERS HERE ARE AGED DOWN FROM PRESENT ANIME/MANGA INTO WHEN THEY WERE TEENAGERS. 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | After confessing with Gojo Satoru himself, you and him walk on the path that would lead you back to Shoko and Geto, you two take your sweet time though, savoring the sweet, new love.

Everything in your body was finally settling in. Your frazzled nerves had just begun to go away. You’re walking back to the picnic, fingers intertwined with Gojo’s. Your pounding heart had subdued. Yet, you still felt fuzzy and warm, you had pinched yourself repeatedly to make sure it wasn’t a dream earlier. The air smelled like fresh dew on grass, the scent of flowers weakly wafted in the air as well, you were drinking in the beautiful weather, enjoying the calm, quiet between the two of you. Normally, every confession of love followed suit with cheers of joy, or perhaps a kiss, but strangely, a quiet walk through the park was something you didn’t mind. Turning your attention towards Gojo, there was a slight curve to his lips. He didn’t smile like that often, it was either a full blown toothy grin, or nothing at all. Wind ruffling his hair, taking longer and longer strides that you couldn’t quite catch up with. “Hey Daddy Long Legs, I’m not 6′3 you know.” you say, sarcasm and a hint of annoyance relevant in your tone. “Oops. Sorry.” he looked down at you, stopping in his tracks. “What? Satoru, we don’t have all the time in the world, come on, Shoko and Geto are probably waiting for us.” ‘Why’s that matter?” crouching down so he could stare at you eye-to-eye, well, more like eye-to-glasses, you hadn’t seen his eyes too often. But when you did they were a brilliant shade of blue, flecks of different variants of the color sprinkled carelessly around, they were breathtaking. You hoped to see them more, why wouldn’t he show you them? After all, he was your... Boyfriend. The term felt so weird to say, but so good. “Didn’t we just start dating?” he said, cocking his head to the side, his eyebrows knitted together. Snapping out of your daze, you study your shoes. “Well- Yes... But, that’s not the point.” your eyes flickered to the field of flowers dancing in the breeze. “Honey, that’s entirely the point. We just got together and you’re gonna care about Shoko and Geto? You’re too considerate~” he cooed, pinching and pulling at your cheeks. “...Is it okay if I call you honey..? Or uh, you know, pet names in general.” he added, you swear you can sense a quivering in his voice, some doubtfulness. Biting your lip, you turn your full attention towards him, flower field be damned, you were dating the guy now, it was okay to be confident. “...I actually prefer it.” It took a moment to register in his probably small brain, but when it did, he beamed at you, giving a full blown smile. “So I can call you Honey? Sugar? Cuddle Bug? Snuggle Wuffle? Snufflekins? Well I kind of already knew you were gonna say yes, by the way.” he cleared his throat, “because, I’m the strongest of all time, and I can also read minds, I swear.” You giggle, not even realizing you were smiling at him as well, his face lit up. “Satoru, It’s okay, just admit you were scared I was gonna say no.” He straightened himself, finally standing up. He put his hand at the back of his neck, still looking down at you. “I wasn’t sweets, I knew you were gonna say yes, but uh, you know consent and stuff...” trailing off, he kicked at a pebble. “I don’t think you need consent to call your significant other cute pet names, well, most of the time.” stifling a laugh, you turn to face to the very start of the pathway you and Gojo were walking on. “Pretty, isn’t it?” he breathed. “Pretty place for a pretty person. I’m happy you told me here. Otherwise, It’d probably be when you’re fighting a curse and on the verge of death.” “Satoru!-” Did this guy have no shame? “What? I woulda saved you regardless, sweetheart. How am I gonna date someone that’s dead?” he chuckled, ruffling your hair. “That’s insensitive!” you snorted, focusing your attention towards the growingly dark sky. “It’s growing really dark, Satoru. We should head back soon.” you thought aloud, once again weaving your fingers into his hand. “I didn’t even realize. Spending time with you makes everything fly by.” he flirted, lifting your limp hand up and kissing your skin. You weren’t quite ready for another kiss in a span of 30 minutes. Struggling to come up with something cheeky, you gape at him, opening and closing your mouth. “My significant other’s a fish now? Aw whatever, you’re still cute. Want more kissies, darling?” He doesn’t give you time to respond, instead diving face first into yours, lips interlocking. Soft, chaste kisses, there’s nothing sexual about it strangely, yet every each one still carried intimacy and love. You melt into his touch, sinking deeper and deeper into his embrace, your knees were just about to give out. Exhaling sharply out of your nose, you could feel the cool air fanning onto your face, your skin was growing hot and sticky. Just as you were about to try to take it a step further, he steps out of the kiss, panting heavily, drooling like an idiot. Your brain isn’t quite working yet, and you peer at him, dumbfounded by the events that had occurred. The still atmosphere was penetrated by the two of you panting, breathing in deeply. Your heart beating furiously, did that really just happen? Did Gojo Fucking Satoru just kiss you? “Woah there.” panting, he crouches, looking up at you and catching his breath. “Didn’t know you were that straightforward, not now, not now baby. Didn’t you say we needed to go back to Geto and Shoko anyways?” Trying not to whine, you clear your throat. “Oh yeah, I forgot about them.” “Glad to know I have that effect on you.” “Satoru!- God why did I ever have a crush on you?” slightly annoyed by his remark, you scoff. “Because I’m handsome and strong and super cool.” You couldn’t quite deny those claims, but your mouth was zipped shut. “That’s what I thought.” grinning at you, yet you can only faintly make out his facial features. “Fuck, Gojo, or uh... Baby, we gotta go! What if Shoko or Geto think we’re kidnapped or something?” Hands once again clasping with his unoccupied one, you sprinted, dragging him along the beaten trail. “Fuck Shoko and Geto! They know I’ll protect the both of us, nothing scares me sweetheart! Let’s watch the stars together, (Y/N)!” he hollered back at you, taking longer and longer strides to catch up to you. “Oh FUCK no baby, you are NOT beating me.” giggling, you let go of his hand, you found yourself 100 times lighter. Now sprinting at the speed of light, or at least the fastest you could run, at the entrance of the pathway. Estimating that it would take around 3 minutes of full sprinting to get to the area. “Last one there is a rotten egg! And you don’t get any of the remaining snacks!” you screamed back at him, but he wasn’t there. Looking forward, you realize Gojo is now ahead of you by a landslide. Yelling unintelligibly about the tasty remaining snacks in the basket. Atleast, that’s what you assume he’s yelling about, but you were sure he would save some for you. Today, was a good day.

319 notes · View notes

bubblegumbeech · 3 years

Text

What use is a Memory Compared to a Future?

Day 1 Dannymay: Memory

He woke up slowly, feeling like an empty pool of water catching rain for the first time. His thoughts were short, tiny little things pittering and pattering around in his mind. His senses came back to him in fragments, the feeling of cold stone solid against him and surrounding his body entirely, an electric unrecognizable smell mixing with the faint scent of death and decay, then sound.

“Pariah?” a voice said. It was a nice voice, low and deep with a touch of gravel. He liked listening to it.

“By all means, you can stay in the sarcophagus, if you wish.”

Was he in a sarcophagus? He cracked open one of his eyes. The other simply twitched and sent a twinge of pain across his face. It took a moment for the image before him to come into focus.

When it did, what he saw was breathtaking.

Ruby red eyes and smooth blue skin hidden under a deep purple cowl framing the most beautiful face he had ever seen. At least, he couldn’t imagine ever seeing a face quite as beautiful as this one. If features like this were common then he would probably greatly enjoy his existence surrounded by them.

“Ah,” the beautiful stranger with the beautiful voice spoke, “you’re awake. I was beginning to worry.”

The stranger’s voice was dry, and held a touch of familiarity that he filed away as important for later. It was likely that something was amiss, if the stranger knew him while he did not yet know himself.

He wet his lips and tried to speak, his voice rough with disuse, “you needn’t lie.”

It had been a lie, or at the very least, it had not been the full truth, that this stranger worried about him. It was likely a quip, a sarcastic comment meant to rile him, and Pariah felt it best to respond in kind. The last thing he would ever admit to was any kind of vulnerability, especially in front of something so seemingly perfect.

His eyes caught on the scar that snaked its way through the stranger’s eye and along his cheek. It was the same eye that refused to open for him and he wondered if there was a connection. A history that was held out of his reach. And then he wondered exactly why he seemed to lack any memory or solid knowledge at all.

The first step, of course, would be figuring out who he was. The next would be figuring out where he was, and then figuring out this stranger, and what relationship they might have had. Whether he needed to do something to drag this handsome stranger closer to him.

The stranger scoffed, “I see you haven’t changed much, Pariah. Too much to expect you to believe someone might have anything resembling affection for you-“

“Do you?” he asked, testing the name Pariah in his mind. It fit surprisingly well, clicked into place and was pleasant to hear spoken in the stranger’s deep voice.

The stranger blinked. “Do I what?”

Pariah stepped fully out of the sarcophagus and into the stranger’s space. “Harbor affection for me?”

A flush spread over the stranger’s cheeks, a deep purple spilling like watercolor in the soft blue and creating a tantalizing contrast. “I hold no such thing!” he hissed, sharp fangs on display as he scowled.

A shame. Pariah would have to make moves to change that somehow.

He acknowledged the stranger’s discomfort and took a step back, taking the chance he had to observe in his surroundings. It was a castle, large and mostly European. Upon further inspection, however, influences of ancient Egyptian tombs could be found in the details, and particularly the traps . The deep red of the brick was at contrast with the slight green of the ambience around them- ectoplasm. As for where he was …

His mind drew a blank. He could recognize the ambient ectoplasm for what it was, but could not name the location itself. How frustrating.

“Pariah?” the stranger asked as he stepped away to more closely examine the castle’s structure.

Pariah turned his attention back towards him, taking in the stranger’s appearance once more. Beyond the beauty and piercing red eyes, he had a clock embedded into his chest, and his legs dissolved into a wispy tail, his cloak floating gently behind him. A ghost. He was a ghost.

From the soft thrum of the core in his chest, and the lack of any beating heart or need for air, Pariah was likely to be a ghost as well. Objectively it made sense, and when Pariah attempted to stop and think about it, there was little else he could have been.

He wondered, if he should ask a question, would the stranger answer? Would it be best if he attempted to hide his lack of familiarity? Would admitting it plainly be equivalent to holding out a dagger with which he may be attacked? But how much could he discover without fully tipping his hand?

The sarcophagus… Clearly he’d been sealed away in it somehow, and possibly for some time. Pariah tilted his head before turning to his companion and asking, “How long?”

Best to keep it vague, bank on assumptions made.

He watched as the stranger’s expression twisted, just slightly. Enough for Pariah to read the guilt, the discomfort, and he found himself wondering exactly who this was, floating in front of him almost close enough to touch but far enough to flee.

“Longer than I can justify,” he finally answered. “In all honesty I’m surprised your core is so intact. I would have expected some kind of damage, locked away as you were.”

Damage, yes, that was certainly likely. He turned away. Would the stranger follow if he left?

There was really only one way to test it. He started walking towards the entrance of the castle, looking around and taking in everything he could, each puzzle piece and missing bit of knowledge. Something clicked into place. He recognized the structure, could describe the ambient ectoplasm outside the windows, and he could feel his age. He knew there was a history here that he had once been privy to. A history that was lost to him now.

Being that he was a ghost now, it was likely that at one point he had been alive. That was how ghosts worked, right? Then again, it seemed unlikely that his companion had ever been constrained to something as fickle as mortality.

His companion had followed him, at a distance and clearly uncomfortable with his actions, but following nonetheless. It settled something inside Pariah, a hum of affirmation in his core. Now if only he could find a way to discover his name, or at the very least a moniker by which to call him.

“No more questions, Pariah?” Suspicion laced his words, and Pariah glanced back at him, not bothering to stop. There was too much he didn’t know, too much he could give away. “I didn’t take you for the silent treatment type.”

“Everyone experiences things that might change them,” he offered accusation, interested in whether the barbs he planted would pierce.

His companion flinched, small, almost imperceptible. An admittance of guilt, something that Pariah should probably hold against him. It was entirely possible that the one who released him from his sleep had been the one to force him into it in the first place.

Was his loss of memories intended, then? Or merely a side effect? Was he refusing to admit something already well known, or keeping his companion in suspense? What an interesting dance they were in, a tug of war where Pariah had no rope to spare and no reason to admit it.

“You seem more subdued. Seeing my face when you first awoke, I expected for you to fly into one of your rages,” his companion said, offering an accusation of his own right back.

Strange though, flying into a rage didn’t sound like him. It seemed too sudden a thing for Pariah, a quick burst of uncontrolled emotion. Was that something he should expect from himself? He’d have thought himself in more control than that.

But he need neither admit nor deny anything here and now, so instead he switched tracks entirely, turned towards his companion and said, “Why would I awake in a rage, when the first thing I see is as beautiful as you?”

The other ghost sputtered, the same colorful blush splashing across his cheeks, and Pariah longed to follow it beyond where the hood hid it away. He wanted to uncover him and see his ethereal companion in his entirety, every feature unobscured and available for Pariah to peruse at his heart’s leasure. He desired to trace his fingers along every feature, to catalog them properly so that he might not forget them again, no matter how pleasant the discovery.

“Is this some ploy to win me back into your arms?” his companion said. The ambient ectoplasm swirled around them, drenched in his emotions. Twisted, complicated things painted in thick layers of history and intimacy that Pariah was a stranger to. “Did you forget I betrayed you? That we saw your fall, orchestrated it twice over? Do you think perhaps I might trust you, when I have no reason to expect anything but bitterness and resentment from you?”

“So you’re saying I’ve succeeded before?”

There was a pause, a moment in time where nothing moved, and his companion stared at him, incredulous. Pariah dared not move himself. As skittish as the other ghost was, there was no reason to risk scaring him off so soon. Especially when Pariah had only just now admitted to lacking the history his companion was so clearly drowning in.

“You don’t… remember?” he asked, his voice soft. Pariah tilted his head, an admittance in itself, and watched as a kaleidoscope of emotions seemed to play upon the other. It was fascinating, to watch the scowl melt away and be so easily replaced with increasingly more complicated emotions. Hope, anxiety, distrust.

It was intoxicating.

Pariah had him before, in his previous life, and lost him. He’d have to be sure, this time, not to let go.

“...Your name.” It could have been a question, or a statement. Pariah answered either way, easily offering the name he had inferred. Judging by the way his companion’s face crumpled though, he hadn’t been entirely correct. “It’s Pariah Dark.”

Ah, yes that sounded more complete. A full name for what was once a complete identity, not the tattered shreds held together that Pariah was now. He nodded and his companion nodded back, guilt quickly overtaking his features.

Well that wouldn’t do. Out of all the expressions he’d seen so far that was certainly the least attractive. The coy smirk from earlier, or the flustered blush, those suited him better by far. Pariah stepped closer and spoke softly, “I’d rather know yours, I think, so that I needn’t call you handsome stranger in my head.”

The blush came back easily and Pariah smiled, reaching a hand to tug away the damned hood blocking his view. A gloved hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him, and Pariah stilled at the contact. He purred, touch starved in his long captivity, and the other ghost looked up, caught, his eyes wide and startled.

Pariah lifted a brow, his question unanswered, and his companion released his arm and backed away, out of reach. He didn’t let the disappointment show, simply followed with his eyes. They tracked every movement, every shift of his shoulders, the ticking of his clocks. It was some time before he was able to answer at all.

“Clockwork. My name is Clockwork.” He frowned, clearly hurt but unwilling to show it. “Are you telling me you don’t know who I am?”

That wasn’t accurate, Pariah mused, it wasn’t so much that he did not know who Clockwork was, but rather that Pariah could not remember him.

“I know who you are,” he argued. That was, if anything, what he knew most assuredly. It was there, etched into Pariah’s core and written plain as day upon Clockwork’s features.

“Oh?”

“You’re mine.”

#Danny Phantom #Pariah/Clockwork #Dark ages dp #dark ages #clockwork #pariah dark #bee's writing #dannymay2021 #dannymay

81 notes · View notes

recallingrealities · 3 years

Text

Aligned - Chapter 8 (Zelda x Reader - NSFW)

For Chapter 1, click (here)

Chapter 8: Singe

When you and Zelda had enjoyed that moonlit night together - the memory felt full and quiet, spilling with magnetic attraction - it resonated between your bodies. Vibrant and vibrating; what magic had originally felt like to you, in the way you had sensed limitless as a child.

It felt so much thicker, more vast. Beyond possible comprehension without entering it completely. This awareness arose, that you yourself: searching, identifying the electricity building between young minds as their thoughts connected across your classroom, in minutes during introductory lecture. Their identification of concepts known yet unknown, in that indescribable sensation of the everchanging present that you so adored finding recognition in.

You had not expected most of your nights to follow in this way. After the rendezvous in your office, you would have expected nearly the opposite from Zelda. Perhaps you were assuming she'd be one to hold her distance in winsome glances towards you. That the two of you would stare, amongst the witnessing presence of your Coven. Aloof, as so many things were, entranced in their community of magic. Yet, she and you, had grown in intimacy. Across the halls, past shoulders and nods, beckoned in silence for more from her. Things were shifting. You had adjusted to read her, with the way she held her stoic composure, experiencing her words, and her thoughts unspoken.

You were sculpting in new habits of your nights proceeding dinner - in spending your evenings together. Consumed by the time that would pass, you would make your way back towards your study, and she towards her own. Moving like your life depended on the coolness of your collected composure, the stillness you felt it setting, cooling and settling between your muscles and with each and every aching step. You had to allow the excitement to shiver in bliss within your muscles fibers, awakening you rush of happiness. Otherwise you were sure you’d tremble in anticipation, unable to get much of anywhere with an aching center and a driven, heating need. It felt like the inevitable was drawing closed like the heavy velvet curtains drawn at every window when the sun held betwixt the air and Earth. This anticipated, simple action, came swift and known in its proper unspoken timing.

The woman would wait exactly thirty three minutes before teleporting to your door. Rather than appearing inside. She found profound pleasure in the formality of knocking - as if it was merely an excuse to cease your breath with her entrance - as it never failed to do so.

You never spoke directly about your night of passion, but the two of you would play with it, in quiet fleeting references. In toying words or the craning shapes of her body language, she would play upon it. Even in the way she would eye over your face, then hands; when sending hot embers scoring the brim of the ashtray - your skin, with her heated and wildfiring, passionate bond. It was as if she knew it erupted you in goosebumps, the ashes reflecting visions of her hot kisses charring your flesh. She would send you a smirk or a knowing look, as her hand brushed against your leg - your trembles, as if she knew it would blur you between a vision and the presently jarring reality. It made you feel… drunk. It was as if the hunt was what pleased her especially. Knowing full well you were practically hers, wading in silent bated breaths - to be caught in grip of her jaws once more.

Tonight, that specific thought felt prolific, like foresight, but you never took stock in assuming. Assumption would be the bane of anyone's true knowing.

You had taken up in advising the Directrix in her personal journey towards the Goddess. It felt humbling. What an honor, and to some, a bafflement that a young woman and such new member such as Y/N being illicitly chosen to advising the High Priestess, at her personal request, for guided practice.

There were ways in sculpting her that you knew would be more useful. To help her build the relationship on her own. It felt like you had done this a thousand times with yourself. In the beginning, constantly feeling yourself waver in and out of connection with the Goddess. It had only been when you realized you were the one that had lost touch, disconnected from such an eternal internally expanded force, that you felt you could reach her in an instant, as if nothing had ever happened. Nothing has been disconnected or out of reach or place at all. This was when you had felt, what you could now detect as, unconditional love, for the very first time. A love that had never left you, or stung with resentment. In a force far greater than the collection of everything, and everything in between it.

When Zelda had asked you, she had no idea where to start. She had confided in you the vulnerable expectancy of her role, but that it was not that which had urged her to ask you. It was her own sense of yearning for Lilith, for Hecate - Astarte, Inanna, Ceridwen, and the rest of the Goddess in wholeness. She was raised to expect Lucifer to present himself to her. To wait and become whatever he wanted for task or pleasure. To know her and be known in return felt ineffable. She would have never thought in her lifetime that she would move humbly towards an entity, in hopes to understand an ancient force such as the Goddess, or source of life, and existence, a boundless Source. In magic. Let alone the option; to know her personally, as a friend and confidant and living love. Zelda was beginning to see in your lessons that the Goddess, Source, was a hidden face in every tiding. A piece in everything no matter her form. The pieces in shatters always fit, the web weaved in perfect collection of all of it.

The coven was in fact, indebted to Hecate - but Zelda's yearning to thank her entirety, beckoned, and called to her very core.

There had been none other that came to mind, to be better in guiding her than you. You felt blessed, remembering the Goddess's words that all was as in alignment. All was as it should be - in your choosing to embrace it.

A silent shiver courses through your shifting body. You had instructed Zelda to begin writing, whatever so moved her or felt intuitively natural. You urged her to write whether it made sense in the moment, or not - wherever the inclination came from. That her intuition was a tie, and if she came to trust it, she would come to realize that her ability to commune to the Goddess was just that, listening. In choosing to embrace it.

The redhead was already capable of prayer. It was the learning to listen that was the ticket for anyone's mastery. Of course, it can feel strange praying or writing to someone, something you do not feel you know. You suggested she write anything, even words in random that arose in her intuition - and that by writing them, she could dedicate whatever the product, to Hecate, despite satisfaction, for this was doubt. That an offering in genuineness, there could be none greater. You had explained that this was the intended act of honoring your experience: that in releasing control to the Goddess, whatever would come of it would be Aligned. Not only that, it was another form of offering - something much less conventional than the blood of a virgin or soul of the unborn. If there was anything Zelda had known about Lilith, it was her keenness for the unconventional. Something personal to this version of her, that she connected, she could resonate as personal. An attribute Zelda had become pleasantly familiar with, in her time knowing her.

She confessed, sacrifice hadn't been like that in Satanic witchcraft. This didn't require blood, or pain, or sacred items. It felt unsettling. It only required the intention that it was for her.

"A Goddess who believes that all we desire on our own, is truly what she desires for us".

This was a level of worthiness Y/N had mentioned recurrently, without the confession of your breathtaking awakening in the forest a few steps away - before sharing with the woman. You explained that you felt no human or witch knew how to handle such a concept, until now.

"How do you even begin to talk to someone like that..?"

Zelda confessed one evening, bewildered that such a Deity or concept, in selflessness could exist.

"I’ve learned that it's as much about talking - as it is about listening.

It is perfectly valid to begin with ‘I’m not sure what to say…’ and to let your thoughts flow in honesty from there. If you are ever unsure, take the time to listen. Take the point in pen hitting paper to release even the blotting smear of ink from the pen. It is the concept that you are consciously there in her presence”.

The silence seemed to stir those embers like before, except rather than in you, in herself.

"It is within all of us"

You comforted her, before returning her to the task of writing, the warm glow of your heat embering with the soft confident brush of your index against her forearm.

It was now, like many nights, that you read through the entries of her journal alongside her. You had insisted the first time, that you need not read it in order for it to be a valid sacrifice to the Goddess - but she had insisted in sharing the strangeness of the exploration with you. You found her words to be beautiful. Her handwriting, as smooth and sweeping, and divine as the way she entered each room and stole each gaze. Her words were unexpected, beautifully honest, and vulnerable. Shaken like the trembles responding to her voice and will. It was in reading her dedications, that you felt for the first time, your heart pang in adoring admiration, for anyone aside from Source herself.

Tonight as you were reading, as you had forsought - her lips met your heartbeats in the nape of your craning neck. You had grown so lost in her words that the impact of her warm flesh had startled you - like a snapping twig in the silent wood outside the Academy's grounds. Your body trembles like layered leaves, interrupted by her gust of wind, lifting up and guiding your movement towards her figure. You feel yourself sway and mark the page with your index as her fingers now clasped your cheek, leaning into it as the tides lean towards the moon. Natural. Surrender. You feel it deep within you and remember that by embracing your experience, as the Goddess had prompted you before, was a way you could honor both her and yourself, in utter pleasure… and desire.

"Z- elda…" you swallow breathlessly, not wanting her to stop as your heart flutters helplessly in your throat. You witness your tangled muscles relaxing at her touch, as your voice returns faltering at the preface of your lips "these entries are stunning"

The redhead lifts her mouth towards your ear, and the tenderness of your flesh shivers beneath it with careful urgency.

"As are you, little seer"

You feel your hands lift the book towards your desk, before releasing it on its surface to turn yourself quickly towards her. Your heart patters in racing tandem to the sudden burst of rain tapping rhythmically at your windows pane.

You turn yourself to face her before meeting your hands to hers, resting on your cheeks before pulling her into a swelling kiss. The way her hips press against you, brings you to sudden awareness of the natural rhythm in the way you moved together. The braiding together of instances in harmony, the progression of the prior lessons collecting towards this very moment, in apex - like the building of each rain cloud, erupting in release over Greendale.

You turn, she moves. You press, she shifts. It was as if every movement was as synchronized as the pendulum on the grandfather clock, well tuned and cadenced in its natural precession. The goosebumps you had felt before were now spread across your entire form as your body shivered against her touch. The collecting swells of the raindrops met as the touch of her palm. One of her hands immediately shifts to support the small of your back, which trembles and softens against it. The base of her palm meets your flesh, gentle, yet firm, warm and reassuring as she slips effortlessly beneath your blouse. Taking you in another breathless kiss. Her lips part, to allow her tongue to request meeting your craven taste on her pallet. It was clear to you more than ever, that she had wanted you. This every moment she spent with you beneath her gaze had been that of undeniable desire, and building pressure. 'Of…. course', you think to yourself, but in just the manners of her movement, you now know for certain.

"I think that's enough lessons for tonight"

Zelda's voice mulls softly, as her words feed into the vibration building at your teeth. You can't help but moan as your lips meet her shoulder in nipping, mewing desperation. Your hands pull needingly to have her closer to you, your whimpers in guiding gasps before your palms meet her breasts, clasping with a secured certainty that the trembling had seemed to release. Beckoning, your lips whisper a few words against her skin before she suddenly falls deep into your bed. The mix of desire between you both teleports you without notice to the safety of your quarters. The weight of your push and the sudden shift in location knocking her off her feet into the pillowing plush of crushed velvet. You climb it's preface, drifting to straddle on top of her, far more forward than encounters before. You press your lips to the seam of her blouse, aching her to remove it in the swiftness of her own enthralled passion. Seeing her sprawled across your bed, shifts a knowing in you. Your heartbeats together panged in your ears, your jaw guided in hungry kisses to meet her accented collar bones. Their beauty is like porcelain sweeping to meet her sculpted breasts. Her breaths rising and falling erratically, draw you closer into the nest of her arms. Pulling your weight towards her, you feel your legs tangle, aligned with the meeting and sharp pressure of your clits connecting.

The shock.

The connection is prevalent, like lighting's fire - tangible in the release of her harmonious moans linking with your own. Your desire so tangible, Zelda can hardly feel embarrassed with the rouge rising in her face. Her hands pull you close towards her hips, urging you to grind against her and provide little relief towards your building passion. Your kisses begin to grow as they travel across, and down each breast. Your hungering wetness, dampening her skin. With your breathless moans tracing her - Zelda is caught completely off guard and vulnerable the moment your soft lips draw, to bite her. Her pale breast purpling beneath your sucking lips, she gasped, in delicious ecstasy. The gorgeous yearning that devours her, tearing at the peak of her need for you. Zelda's skin rippled in goosebumps as her exposed abdomen tightens, a smirk attending to your hunger's liking. You find yourself growing far more exposed and domineering with her than ever before - and you can tell how completely off guard she has become, finding herself whimpering against your confident smirk.

What a shift.

You had never imagined you'd hear her whimper. The woman who seduced you with growing need, using just her eyes to send electricity through you, was beginning to tremble. Her fingers gripping your back, your teeth assist in removing and unclasping her lace bralette. Nothing with her was as you'd expected, you find yourself even more satisfied with the result unfurling before your eyes, her breasts spilling over, gaze hungering and desperate for your thighs movements up to grind against her precious heat.

Abridged and supported by her crying, frustrated moans, you remove her bra with a keenness, causing it to flutter against the dresser's surface, across the room from the two of you. The mirror reflecting your candlit bodies, she unzips the back of your dress, your swift, defiant movements pulling her delicate fingers away from the zipper as your lips take her breast in peaking proposal. Your tongue flits her nipple, the warm dampness of your tongue beckoning her to arch against it, as you take her sweet flesh into the hold of your mouth. Suckling in pleasurable hunger, your thigh draws down her covered core with gruesome, fracturing friction. You find the lace of her panties fits in perfect contrast to the soft ageless touch of your skin against her. The firm pressure in contrast to the delicate flesh that scathed her form, drawing her breaths inward - her energy enveloping you in gorgeous enthrall to pull you as close to her as your bodies can bare. You shift your mouth in time with her breaths, drawing inward towards the honest wetness of her fabric, closing in on her.

It is only then, that you pause for a brief moment to touch her thigh, your breath warm and tangible against her, your l fingertips, tweaking her nipple, sucking deeper to pull her breasts fullness towards your mouth. Her gasping moans echo your chambers as if they had longed to reverberate her sound.

The pleasure you feel in unbelievable, your own heat gasping in needing waves as you grind just as needily against the mattress in return to the response of her bucking mound.

It is then, that she flips you, your lips a moment away from capturing her craving heat. You are shocked, by the power burning within her. Her eyes are sharp and daggering, your dress splitting open as she lifts your hips to plunge her fingers into your dripping cunt. Dazed, your mouth trembles - unable to utter the "FUCK" sitting gutteral in your throat, her firm graising thumb streaking from your entrance to your clitoris. Her fingers spread then curl inside you, before her free hand grounds firmly next to your ear. You can feel your waves of panting met only by the slapping wetness of her palm at your core, her curling fingers pushing you quickly towards a blistering climax. 'So… soon…' you think, contracting her cunt against the pressure of her relentless fingers. It is now that your eyes meet hers, her needing eyes connecting to a depth within you never searched. The moans spilling from your lips in tongues unfamiliar. Your desperate hands grip the sheets and wrist at your crown, grinding back in restless tides. Your jaw tightens with baited breath, using everything in you not to come immediately. It is then that gloss covers your sweet dark eyes, erupting you in waves of pleasure as you spill out uncontrollably across her fingers.

Zelda licks her lips, pleased, and surprised at your body's response, slowing her thrusts to meet her upper lip to your bud, sliding her tongue between her digits inside, to taste you.

Her moan is earth shattering. The way it echoes up inside you enough to make you burn with intensity, in sensuous waves as your hips meet her to ride out your orgasm.

#zelda spellman x reader #caos fanfiction #zelda spellman #zelda spellman fanfiction #the chilling adventures of sabrina #chilling adventures of sabrina #self insert #reader insert #miranda otto #Aligned fic #mine #fem reader #chapter 8

102 notes · View notes

rainsongdean · 3 years

Text

you’re always golden to me

post-mockingjay / pre-epilogue everlark healing together, appreciating the sunset, and maybe even falling in love

"We should head back before it gets dark." Peeta's words rang out in the open air between them, but they were not enough to pull Katniss from her trance-like state.

It had been a rough day. Not enough so to be classified as a bad day, seeing as Katniss had found the motivation to move from the bed to the couch at some point in the afternoon. Now, though, watching the clouds paint watercolors in the sky seemed to bring her back to life. She was encapsulated by the sight.

"Not yet," she eventually spoke, her voice somewhat hoarse from not using it for a while. "I want to stay until it's over. Besides, we could walk home blindfolded from here."

It was true. Katniss had discovered the hill nestled in the woods behind Victor's Village not long after returning from the Capitol. She found solace in being embraced by the wilderness rather than being suffocated in her old home, so when she accidentally stumbled upon the tall mount that overlooked the wide plains and open sky, she knew she had found what she had subconsciously been searching for.

It had taken a few months before she brought Peeta to her secret spot. He'd only returned to District 12 a few days before she had found the hill, and they both needed some time to warm up to each other again. But one day, after suffering through a particularly vivid flashback that ended with him handcuffed to one of Haymitch's spare cages for his geese, Katniss figured it would do them both good to escape into the forest for a while.

That was the first night they watched the sunset from the hill. It had been slightly uncomfortable, sitting inches apart on the dewy grass, no attempt at conversation made by either party. Eventually, Peeta suggested they return home to make dinner before it got too late, but Katniss insisted that she could tell by the shape of the clouds that they would put on an impressive show.

As usual, she was not wrong.

It was the most vibrant spectacle either of them had seen - far more breathtaking than any Capitol party or fireworks display. Sure, they had both watched the sun go down in 12 before, but their view had always been clouded by the thick layer of dust in the air from the mines or obstructed by the cluster of buildings stacked practically on top of one another. Here on their hill, nothing stood between them and the sky. Beyond that, the best part was they got to share it together, just the two of them.

Since that night, the pair made an effort to hike the two-mile trek to the hill at least once a week, though they typically found themselves there more often than that. Katniss still liked to visit the spot alone, sometimes using the safe space to speak aloud to Prim or Finnick and imagine what they would say back. Other times she just enjoyed the silence.

Peeta, too, ventured to the hill a few times by himself. He had tried on several occasions to paint the landscape, and while he was able to perfect the morning glow and mid-afternoon sun, he couldn't capture the colors of nightfall that he most desired to paint.

Despite the significance that the holy ground held for each of them individually, neither one could deny that they preferred to visit the hill together. Katniss had been unofficially living with Peeta for weeks now, and they even shared a bed most nights, but there was a different breed of intimacy that came with being in the woods, nestled in their own little corner of the universe.

"Fine," Peeta sighed contentedly, breaking the silence again. "We can stay as long as you'd like." With that, he leaned toward the picnic basket they had brought and reached in, shoving aside the empty containers that once held a selection of berries, cheeses, and breads to reveal a neatly folded fleece blanket he had stashed in the bottom. "I came prepared," he announced with a sense of pride.

Katniss briefly pulled her gaze from the view for the first time since the sun had begun its descent to offer Peeta a small smile of gratitude. The gesture warmed his heart with the blaze of ten thousand sunsets.

Taking care to wrap the soft cover around their legs, Peeta pulled the fabric up to their chests and then eased his back to the ground until he was laying horizontal on the hill. Katniss followed suit so they were both engulfed by the blanket.

Their new angle only served to better showcase the colors stretching endlessly above them. One hue in particular transported Katniss back to a seemingly ancient memory of the two of them.

"Orange. Muted... like a sunset." Katniss didn't break her eye contact with the sky but smirked to herself as she spoke.

Peeta nudged her shoulder playfully in response, easily picking up on what she was referring to. Their conversation on the train about favorite colors was one of the first to come back to him after he had been rescued from the Capitol. Shifting slightly toward Katniss, he reached out and twisted his finger gently around a stray strand of hair that had escaped from her braid. "You're so poetic when you quote me," he mused sarcastically.

"Well, your choice of favorite color is much more poetic than Effie’s choice of wig," she quipped. It was ironic how some of her and Peeta's best conversations had happened in the midst of some of the worst times of their lives. And yet, there they were: safe and relatively happy, just two kids trying to piece themselves back together with some pastel paints, cheese buns, and hidden hills. It may not have been anything profound, but it was living, and Katniss figured that, for time being, that would be enough.

She inhaled deeply, trying to absorb the moment. They had reached the peak of the sunset when every particle in the air seemed to glisten from the giant star's final attempt to remain on the topside of the world. There was only one word to describe it.

"Everything is golden."

And, for an instant, it was.

But as the sun succumbed to the pull of dusk, the raging reds and oranges that had scorched the sky swiftly turned to delicate pinks and purples, paving the way for the black of night.

It was then that Katniss realized Peeta had been uncharacteristically quiet, his sunset commentary usually being much more prolific than hers. When she turned her head to the left to face him, she found he was already staring back at her, still toying with her hair. His deep blue eyes twinkled like he knew a secret and was about to let her in on it.

When they first met, that kind of look from Peeta overwhelmed her. Sometimes Katniss would catch him staring at her like she carried the world in her hands, or spun threads of gold with her words. It puzzled her, annoyed her, and at times even enraged her. But after his hijacking, it had been so rare for that young, innocent Peeta to reappear and give her that look which spelled out his love for her so plainly on his face, and she had grown to cherish it.

"I change my mind." For the third time that night, Peeta's voice sliced open the veil of silence that covered them.

Katniss abruptly rose to a sitting position, an expression of confusion clouding her face as she leaned over Peeta's resting form. "What do you mean?"

"I change my mind," He repeated calmly, shrugging as if the answer to her question was obvious. "The sunset isn't my favorite shade of orange anymore."

Katniss bit her lip and furrowed her eyebrows, causing the wrinkles on her forehead to deepen. Peeta could tell she was trying to keep herself from challenging him, so he decided not to torture her any longer.

"You are my favorite shade of orange," he reached his hand up to caress her cheek, easing away the signs of worry that had risen on her face. "You, sitting here with the sun reflecting in your eyes, your skin glowing in the light." He lowered his voice to a whisper and retracted his hand, slowly guiding Katniss's head to rest on his chest so she could hear his heart beating. "The way you make me feel like I'm on fire inside, all the time."

Girl on fire. The words echoed in his mind and, although he did not dare speak them, he internally admitted they rang true. And it was in moments like those, as he held her under the night sky with millions of stars blazing above them, that he saw Katniss burn the brightest.

"Oh, shut up," she exhaled, turning away from him in an attempt to conceal the blush that had overtaken her smiling face, but Peeta didn't have to see it to know it was there. "You're so cheesy."

"Hey now," he feigned a hurt expression, "I thought you liked my cheese."

Katniss couldn't hide her outburst at his nonsense and they both fell into a fit of laughter together. They hadn't spoken much about what exactly their relationship status was at the moment, hesitant to put labels on anything, but he still wanted her to know how he felt about her. And while Katniss had never been proficient in using her words to convey her love, the way that she clung to Peeta, burying her head in his arm while gasping to regain her breath from laughing so hard, told him everything he needed to know.

"Come on, we should really head back before Haymitch gets worried." Peeta attempted once again to persuade Katniss to return home after they had both calmed down. His stomach was beginning to growl - the small rations of their picnic earlier weren't nearly enough to tide over his appetite until morning - and now that the sun had set, he'd much rather snuggle up with Katniss on their couch than on the cold, hard ground. And besides, while he didn't really think their mentor would be waiting up for them, he figured the argument might be enough to persuade her.

"Seeing as it's past 3 p.m., I think it's safe to say that Haymitch is passed out on his couch," Katniss countered, but her actions said otherwise as she began to gather herself up off the ground. Peeta knew she had a soft spot for the old man.

It took them a little over half an hour to walk home, leisurely following the path that their own footprints had created over time. Upon entering the house, Peeta made a beeline to the kitchen to heat up some leftover stew from the night before. While he ate, Katniss headed to Haymitch's house, opening the unlocked door to find him asleep in his living room as she had predicted. She pried the half-empty bottle from the arm that hung off the couch and set it on a nearby table before turning the lights out and closing his front door behind her.

She had recently made a habit of checking in on her friend, especially during the weeks when Effie travelled back to the Capitol for work. She knew he had done the same for her countless times. Haymitch never seemed to question why he would sometimes wake up with a blanket draped over him or a pillow propped beneath his head, and Katniss didn't plan on bringing it up. Like most things between the two of them, it went unsaid.

Later that evening, tucked under the covers of Peeta's bed - their bed - Katniss felt more at ease than she did most nights. Maybe it was the serenity of the particularly striking sunset, or maybe it was Peeta's roundabout confession of the feelings he still had for her. Either way, she was pleasantly content.

On the other side of the mattress, as Peeta danced on the cusp of sleep, his mind dragged him back to something Katniss had said on the hill. Everything is golden. He knew what she meant; that the landscape had been blanketed by the radiance of the sunset. But he felt it was true in another sense, and that maybe this new phrase was an even more appropriate way to describe the true essence of Katniss Everdeen.

Before drifting off herself, Katniss heard Peeta mumble one last line of admiration, causing her to fall asleep with a smile ingrained on her lips.

"You're always golden to me."

#the hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #katniss and peeta #one shot #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #catching fire #mockingjay #thg #hunger games #everlark fic #everlark fanfiction #everlark drabble #thg fanfic #drabble #primrose everdeen #finnick odair

178 notes · View notes

drakewalkerfantasy · 3 years

Text

Not Interested: Part 2 (Tatum x Denise x Mystery Guy) NSFW

Summary: Three people, two friends and a stranger. And all what they have in common is that they are all broken. Some more than another. He loves the girl he shouldn’t. She was cheated by her scumbag ex-boyfriend and doesn’t need or seek for love. And another guy… he is a mystery. The mystery that will remain just that. And just for the night two will build emotional bonds and another will seek only physical knowing that he cannot give more, knowing that she also knows it. He isn’t interested, but probably two others are…

Words: 3942

Rating: NSFW / MATURE / 18+

Warning: threesome / blowjob / penetration

A/N: I’m even not sure what it is and if any good. But I just read and re-read… And just hope you will like it. Sorry if it’s terrible or make no sense, I really am sorry and I really hope that it’s make sense and not complete fucking fuck. I’m incredibly nervous to post it as it my first. And I really hope the ending and everything is making sense. Ending maybe rushed, so just let me know if it is rushed :)

Here we go… under the CUT. As I said tagging only who interacted with the Six Sentence Sunday just in case if someone not interested and I just don’t want to assume as this definitely isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.

For Tatum, the ride to the hotel passed in a blur. He looked through the fogged window, trying to ignore the insistent throbbing between his legs, while the couple next to him was engrossed in the passionate kiss.

He was so deep in his thoughts, trying to ignore what he knew he needed, that his body jerked, when he felt a soft warm hand creeping up his thigh. Trying now even harder to concentrate his whole attention on the city lights passing by the window and ignore the feeling that got brought by that small hand so close to his hard and throbbing cock. Counting from 10 to 0 in hope that after the moment it will pass, if only he would be able to concentrate on anything else but the feeling of her warm hand inching closer to his denim-covered shaft.

Involuntary groan leaving his throat, when the tips of her fingers accidentally... or not so... fluttered over his protruding bulge. His breath hitched and his heart skipped a treacherous beat, swallowing hard when her hand ran over him again. The fleeting weak thought passing in his mind:

I’m not interested. I’m not interested. I’m not interested.

Before that thought finally got overpowered by another, more stronger thought. The thought that came suddenly. The thought he didn't expect to have, but knowing exactly where it came from.

I need it. I need it. I need it.

God, it has already been six months since the last time he had anyone. Six freaking months since he needed that so desperately, and the temptation was too big to be able to ignore it now.

The memory of almond shaped chocolate eyes emerging from the back of his mind and he is ready to do anything to push it back. He needs to do anything to push it back, to make sure that when he will see her again... when assignment will start, he will not spiral into the darkness and he will be able to do his job, to keep her safe, to make everything that it would take to keep her safe. And not to let his feelings interfere with her safety, not let it compromise her.

He knew that he still wasn’t interested; he tried to remind himself this every time he felt her gentle fleeting caresses against his inner thigh but by the time her hand subtly worked it’s way up he wasn’t as sure anymore. Trying to suppress a moan ready to rip from his throat.

He wasn’t that type of guy... he wasn’t one night stand type of guy, at least usually... and even less so whatever that was or wherever this was going. But he was hollow... depressed and he needed distraction... he needed someone who would take care of him, making him feel good... someone who will not ask for anything in return. He needed something what he knew will be just for tonight.

However he still tried to protest when she walked them up to her suite. Following numbly after her. Too aroused to think straight and too deep in his thoughts to utter anything else but the weak protest that got caught in his throat even before she pushed him lightly to the edge of the bed.

“Deni... don't...,” he murmured breathlessly, quietly. More than a plea, less than a protest.

His mind fogged and his heart beating out of his chest, while his blood pounded in his ears deafeningly loud. Her fingers worked on his belt, ignoring his words, knowing better than him what he needed, blindly dragging the zipper of his jeans down. Her lips locked with the other’s guy’s in a sloppy messy kiss, igniting the fire between them.

And somewhere in the back of his mind the thought occurred. That this is what he wanted some day... the fire... the passion... the something more than the numb act he even wasn’t sure he wanted... but needed it.

But for today... for this night only he didn’t mind that this wasn't about him or intimacy. He was thankful to her for not trying to make it intimate. Thankful that she didn't try to kiss him knowing exactly what he needed. Knowing that he cannot give her nothing else but physical.

He heard another guy’s low raspy groan tearing through the darkness, when her hand cupped him through the thin material of his jeans before dragging the zipper down and pushing them to the ground together with his boxers. Making the other guy curse, when her hand wrapped around his thick long cock squeezing him firmly, but before she could sink to her knees he stopped her, removing her hand from him and turning her around bending her slightly toward the bed.

Gently Blaine ran his hand along her spine, while another was splayed across her waist. His fingertips outlining the path of the zipper from her waist to the bottom of her slender neck brushing her long brown hair to the side, letting them brush softly over Tatum’s erection, making him close his eyes on exhale and curse quietly.

What I’m even doing here? He thought feeling how his breath picked up the speed, coming out in short puffs when he felt her sole finger run gently from the base of his length and to the tip, circling around it tantalisingly slowly, feeling how the warm drop of pre-cum gathered in its slit. Feeling, how the multitude of goosebumps erupted across his skin.

He wasn’t interested; he tried to repeat, knowing that this still was true, but his body stubbornly told a different story, while Blaine’s hand finally found the pull tab of Denise’s dress sliding it down to her waist, making her black sparkling dress to drop at her feet.

And all of a sudden he couldn’t lie to himself… his dick jerked with need as if confirming his hazy thought that occurred at the back of his head, when his clouded gaze landed on her bare body clad only in a black lace thongs with the matching garter on her right leg and the black stockings to the mid of her thigh, watching her bit on her bottom lip looking at him with the matching need.

Yeah... he was interested, but he also knew that another part... the one that should have mattered the most was still not interested. And it will never be. And he also knew that she didn’t need it. Too hurt herself, to be interested in anything else but what has been offered.

Blaine stood closer to her. His hands leisurely trailed down her body, mapping it, memorising it. Every curve, every dip, every freckle and mark. So beautiful, so soft, so breathtaking.

His fingertips barely touching. Grazing over the undersides of her breasts, making her sigh and purr. Her back arching as if begging him for more, while her hand stroked slowly Tatum’s length, making him sigh and moan in pleasure; from the pace she set and from the way she did it.

Blaine’s eyes darkened, just for a split second before pushing the frown forming on his face back. He needed distraction, some fun before all the hell breaks free and the circus begins, and he knew that some stranger picked up in the bar will be just that. The fun he needed, the distraction he had looked for. Nothing else, no more no less than that… and what the difference it makes if there is another guy. None, he wasn’t interested in anything else. Right?

The whiff of lavender emanating from her body and hair is intoxicating and Blaine inhales it sharper, feeling how his head started to spin lightly from the scent of her. He smiled against her shoulder, trailing wet mouth-opened kisses along her slender neck as he thrust forward, his erection rubbing against her. She whimpered softly, and he cupped her breasts firmly, tweaking her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Relishing in the sounds she made, while she turned her head to a side letting his mouth to capture hers in a hot sizzling kiss.

He groaned, when her hand reached behind her back, grabbing his stiff throbbing length, stroking him lightly with the same rhythm and longitude as Tatum. Their lips meeting locking in a frenzied kiss. Their tongues sliding against each other. And her body was leaning into his. Blaine’s hand ran to her pussy with purpose, dipping beneath the waistband of her panties, brushing his thumb over her clit with a little bit pressure, while his finger dipped inside her feeling how soaking wet she was.

The thought of if that was for him or that other guy or even both flashed in his mind, but he decidedly pushed it away. He wasn’t her boyfriend, and he wasn’t interested in becoming one… He thought, missing the way how his heart squeezed, skipping a beat, when his eyes met her eyes in the full length mirror behind the bed.

This was only for fun. Thought he. Incognito sex... no names, at least not his... no obligation... no future... nothing what some usual guy would want. As he wasn't just some guy, and he wouldn't want to drag anyone else in the mess of his family.

Blaine’s kisses became deeper and rougher while his eyes locked with hers through the mirror. The thought that he never seen anything more pornographic in his whole life strikes him, but he chased it away, instead focusing on the feel of her tongue against his. On her sweet intoxicating maddening scent. On her hand moving languidly over his length and on the desire that was now burning with a force of inferno inside him.

He could hear Tatum’s raspy voice breaking through the pounding of his blood roaring in his ears, trying to stop her... saying that it’s okay... she shouldn’t. But the protest is so weak, that he found it hard to believe. The same thought arises in his mind... same doubts, same hesitation and he almost says the same. But the thought is so weak, that he doesn't want to lie and he knows that he needs it. Knows that he wants her so instead another question leaving his lips, joined by the same question from her friend, just a single moan later. “Are you sure that this is what you want?” their husky breaking voices mixed in breathless pants, while his fingers moving inside her with purpose, waiting for her reply.

“Yes...,” she moaned, when Blaine’s fingers curled inside her in a come here motion, making her body shiver with desire. “Oh, my God yes, please,” she gasped, while her hands ran along their hard lengths, stroking them.

“God, you are beautiful,” murmured Blaine against Denise’s neck. His words sent a rush of heat, colouring her cheeks.

His breath hot and heavy fanning against her skin and she threw her head back, letting his lips graze against it. His hand moving from the back of her head to the small of her back before finally insistently bending her toward the bed... toward another guy. Making it feel like a decision finaly was made, making her let go of his aching length and stop just a few inches shy from Tatum’s swollen and aching tip.

His hands almost ripping her panties out of the way, dragging them urgently down her legs before picking up his jeans and taking the condom out of his wallet. So impatient... so willing... The sound of ripped foil breaking through the air filled with panting and moaning. But even in that moment Tatum managed to think with relief that at least he thought of that... and this is the last thought he could register with his fogged mind as the second later his mind goes totally blank, when Denise bends even lower, swirling the tip of her tongue over his shaft.

Tatum’s eyes focused on her, watching how she started to work on his length, bobbing her head with calculated movements. Just right... just enough for him to feel good, but not enough for him to finish too quickly.

Shit… he thought with a raspy groan leaving his lips. It was already six month… Six fucking months of a dry spell… not that he really cared or needed it… He wasn’t one of this guys who couldn’t live without some fucking, but even he had his limits. And six months seems to be his… or was it because of the dark haired girl, who he caught a glimpse of just this morning? He thought, but the deep rumble erupting from Denise’s throat, tore him out of his thoughts, sending a pleasant sensation to his spine, making him groan involuntarily in pleasure.

It was good, and he couldn’t deny it even if he would try. He was a man after all, made from flesh and blood, and not from steel. But he still wasn’t interested. And he felt shame coursing through him... and guilt for using his friend and for loving another.

His eyes half hooded, still feeling a tingling of shame at the back of his mind, and his imagination playing trick on him, when he focused his gaze on her. Desperately trying to chase away the image of anothers almond shaped eyes floating before his eyes, until a deep groan didn’t snap him back to reality.

Denise’s eyes now opened and fixed on his, while she kneeled on the bed between his legs taking him deep inside her mouth. His hand losing in her soft dark hair guiding her, while Blaine’s hands gripped her hips, pushing slowly inside her. Feeling how her body tensed and his own movements halted, leaning closer to her.

“Hey… if you are not sure about that, just tell me and I’ll stop,” he groaned in a husky voice, brushing her hair softly aside, not moving even an inch, waiting for her reply with a bated breath.

But she stubbornly shook her head moaning her consent, and it was all the answer he needed. Slowly he pushed in, feeling how his heart started to beat quicker. Blaine’s fingers flexed on her hips, and Tatum felt rather than heard how she gasped taking him even deeper.

Blaine could feel how her body tightened around him, taking his full length inside her. Momentarily stopping to give her a few moments to get used to his size before starting to move. His body meeting hers while his hands rested on her hips helping her to move with his body, setting a steady pace between them.

His body surging forward thrusting deep inside her as if not able to control the pace he set for them just a moment ago. Feeling how every single thought he had evaporated with each thrust he made. His lips grazed her soft skin. Leaving the open-mouth kisses over her back. Groaning and panting from how soft and warm she felt, and how tight she was. Thrusting faster and faster inside her, feeling how her body tensed. His fingers digging inside her hips, doubling the efforts, setting almost neck breaking speed for his thrusts. The one she could barely keep up with as if somehow subconsciously trying to overrun his own demons. Chasing them away, when his eyes met hers in the mirror and the same look of her own darkness clashing with his made the time freeze.

She could feel how the tight spring inside her abdomen coiled tighter and tighter with every thrust inside her. Knowing that she had only got seconds before she will be pushed over the edge.

Her heart was pounding so hard that it seemed it would break out of her chest, while her lips continued to work Tatum’s length. Racing now for his pleasure as much as for her own. Her hand wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, pumping him as she sucked in a steady but frantic pace. His hips jerked as his moans grew louder, and she knew by the way his breath hitched every time she slid her lips over his sensitive tip that he was close... so close.

She swirled her tongue around his head, suckling on him as she groaned. Knowing that he could feel how her groan will reverberate through him and it will be enough to send him over the edge. And that was it. She could see how he froze, groaning out the muffled name she couldn’t quite catch, but instead to thrust his hips deeper and finish he gently pushed her away, wrapping his hand around his shaft and finishing in his palm with a desperate groan. Watching how the sperm was sipping through his fingers with the dazed expression on his face still breathing heavily, feeling how the fog that was clouding his mind slowly started to dissipate, leaving the shameful guilt as an aftermath of his need.

But Denise didn’t notice all that, feeling how the blood in her ears roared, muffling every other sound around her. Her vision went almost white and she focused on her own hands in front of her, not letting the reality slip out of her reach... out of her control. The pleasure was right there, so close enough that she almost could taste it swirling in the air, rushing at her with a speed of a wrecked train.

Knowing that no one, even her ex-boyfriend made her feel as good as the guy she just met. Making her feel alive, alighting her every nerve on fire, chasing her demons away.

It felt good... better than good until his movements suddenly halted in uncertainty before she felt his hand around her waist tugging her up gently, making her breath hitch.

Her back pressing firmly against his chest, feeling every thundering of his heart beat, every trembling of his muscles while he held her close to him, still moving inside her. His other hand cupped her face, turning it to face him and for the first time since the taxi ride their eyes met directly, not through the cold mirror’s surface, and the electricity of their darkened eyes meeting shot through them, making them breathless. His lips capturing hers quickly... urgently, making the fire between them ignite anew. Feeling how the spring started to coil tighter inside her again making her gasp for an air before hearing his soft murmur against her lips... between their kisses.

“Come for me...” and his husky low voice followed by the deep hard thrust was enough for the tightened spring to pop free, and for the release to wash over her. Feeling how wave after wave of the warm overpowering feeling knocked into her. Making her scream and whimper from pleasure against his lips.

Blaine could feel how she tightened around him, fluttering around his length. His heart beat so fast that it seemed that it would not withstand the race, but he still moved faster and faster inside her, thrusting deeper and deeper into her warmth. Soft gentle sounds of encouragement leaving his lips, while he gently cupped her face in his hand, watching her come.

His muscles tense, when her hot pussy clamped around his shaft triggering his own much needed release, finally sending him into a whirlwind of pleasure. Feeling the intensity of it knocking the air out of him and leaving him breathless.

-----------------------------------------

It was only a few hours after Tatum’s body shook with an orgasm followed by two other muffled screams in the darkness. Only two hours till Denise’s plane would take off till the next time he would see her again. And only a few minutes since the moment Tatum forced his eyes open from uneasy dreams he had fallen into. His body shifted, seated on the edge of the sofa, where he moved straight after the guilt and shame for what he allowed to happen hit him with all force. Leaving two other spent bodies peacefully asleep on the bed, curled against each other. Legs and hands intertwined.

He was already dressed so he made a cup of coffee and a breakfast for Denise, before sneaking toward the bed to gently shake her from her sleep. Watching how she blinked in confusion, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

“You have left only a couple of hours till your plane,” explained Tatum, nodding toward the small table next to the sofa before moving back to the small kitchen area. “Eat. We need to move soon,” he said in a voice gruffer then intended, not able to meet her eyes. The shame and guilt still ate at him for what had happened only a few hours ago, knowing that he shouldn’t have allowed for that to happen. Watching how she lowered her doe-like eyes before quickly dressing up and seating on the sofa.

“What are you doing?” Tatum asked, clearing his throat after Denise had finished her breakfast throwing a single glance in her direction. Watching, her curled on the sofa with notepad on her lap and a pen in her hand. She was wearing black leggings and a white tunic top, her hair brushed up in a high ponytail and not a single sign of a make up, while she chewed on the end of her pen thoughtfully.

“Writing Chris a note,” she simply replied. “Saying goodbye.”

“He would have survived without one,” grumbled Tatum, throwing a quick glance at the guy who was still deep in his sleep.

“Tatum... please seat,” Denise said, patting a place next to her, making him sigh in defeat and sit silently. “I’m sorry... for screwing up our friendship and probably yours and Damien’s,” she said finally after a moment of silence. “And I’m sorry for not listening to you. But you needed that as much if not more than I did. And something in him...,” she started before her voice trailed off and she just shrugged her shoulders as if indicating... you know, broken like us. After a few more moments of silence, she placed the pen on the table, standing up and extending her hand toward Tatum.

“Let’s go,” she whispered softly, taking Tatum’s hand who took it after a beat, squeezing it gently. Her eyes lingered for a little bit longer on the guy's naked form on a bed before she left a note on the bedside table, and left the room followed by Tatum.

------------------------

It was a few weeks after Denise landed in the USA, leaving Rutherland and the last night behind. The first day of his assignment to Claire, the girl who he still loved. The truth that wasn’t so easy to admit, but he finally found the courage to do so, after all the mistakes he made. But he probably needed to make them, to finally admit the truth. He never was over Claire and he never will be. Denise’s last words still echoed in his mind. “Don’t suppress your feelings, face them.”

And he knew now that it was exactly what he needed, to finally be able to face Claire without spiralling deeper into the darkness, without making mistakes he would later regret.

He was furiously pacing outside the Dean’s office after the paparazzi trespassed the Vancross campus grounds chasing Claire and Princess Dionne for some juicy pictures, when the door flew open. And the guy stepped outside with that familiar smirk on his face. His eyes meeting Tatum’s and the world suddenly stopped. Tatum’s eyes widened and he finally knew... finally managed to place the face to the name, feeling how the blood drained from his face, suddenly speechless, when Blaine Hayes... the First Son of Ardona stood in front of him with the same shock on his face.

Tagging: @choices-bound @starrystarrytrouble @mercury84choices @lahelasaveiro @k2624 @thefrenchiemama

#tatum mendoza #Tatum Mendoza x oc #Tatum Mendoza x oc x blaine #Blaine Hayes x oc #blaine hayes #foreignaffairs #choices foreign affairs

41 notes · View notes

kakashi-tsukuyomi · 3 years

Text

The afternoon sun casts a warm, lazy glow in your living room. It's filtered through the thin, translucent white curtains hanging on your windows, and touches the room softly with its light, giving the walls and the floors, and everything it reaches with a rich warm yellow color. The effect it gives to the current atmosphere is very soothing -- a bit sleep-inducing, even -- and you yawned softly as you stretch your arms and legs on the couch. Billie Holiday's voice softly croons in the background and you listen to it, while resting one of your arms gently around the shoulders comfortably snuggled against yours.

It's great that it's Saturday today. Both you and your boyfriend have the day off, and what better way to spend this lazy weekend afternoon than to invite him to your apartment and hang out in your living room. Sitting together on the couch, warm body resting against the other, you feel that there's no other place you'd really rather be right now. Your fingers playfully caress the silver locks on top of his head, as your other hand reaches across his waist, lazily tracing light straight lines on his sides. His eyes stay fixed on the book before him, engrossed in a chapter he has read so many times. Your eyes wander dreamily all over his face, admiring the way it's basked under the warm glow of the afternoon light. You smile and you can't help yourself, reaching over to plant a soft, slow, sweet kiss on his sun-bathed cheek.

He looks up from his book and turns to you, a small smile forming on his lips. You take in the breathtaking sight in front of you, marveling at the features of his handsome face. You cherish every rare moment like this, where you can indulge yourself seeing his bare face -- something he doesn't reveal to just anyone else. Your heart warms up every time to this display of trust he gives you, and you make sure he feels that gratitude each time by giving that trust back. Your hand leaves his body and moves towards his face, on his scar, and you lightly trace along the line from the top of his eyebrow, and down to the middle of his cheek. Eyes closing, he sighs deeply, and you sense a hint of pain terribly concealed in it. With both hands you cup his face, bringing it closer to yours as your lips touch softly the scar on his face.

You feel his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, his hands digging into your skin over the fabric of your blouse. He opens his eyes and stares longingly into yours. You feel both of your weight shift backwards, and he stops midway, looking into your eyes once more, asking for permission.

You stare back at his, your heart fluttering in erratic beats. Though you have already been dating each other for quite some time already, any act of physical intimacy that requires quite a close proximity would always send you to a halt. It's been a while since you've been in a serious relationship like this one, and you weren't exactly the type to be easily comfortable with acts of physical intimacy. It's not that you doubt him, but in general, you've always had a hard time giving your trust to anyone, too.

"May I?" His voice was soft, a little bit pleading, but polite enough to respect your wishes should you not permit him. To be fair, he is also struggling to open up and give his trust to anyone. Between the both of you, his reasons for his lack of trust is more justified with everything that has happened in his life. And yet, here he is, breaking out of his comfort zone and reaching out, giving himself another chance in connecting with the world outside his own, outside his hurt. More specifically, he's broken out of his shell and gives his trust to you. Hope and desire reflect in his eyes, and you feel your heart open to him and break for him at the same time. You nod sweetly, locking your arms around his neck as you give to him that faith he decides to give you unconditionally every single time. "Yes. I trust you."

He lays both of your bodies down on the seat of the couch, and he shifts both of your weights so you are both laying on your sides, facing each other. He pulls you in closer, and you bury your face at the base of his neck, inhaling his scent. You feel your shoulders relax, and so does his, and both of you let your bodies relax and meld comfortably against each other's. "This is really nice," you hear him say, and you can't agree with him more. Once again, you made sure to let him know of your gratitude by giving back that trust, as well. You love him enough to trust that he won't do you harm, and he has proven that trust time and again.

He takes your chin and lifts it up to meet his gaze, and he leans forward to you, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, and finally settling on your lips. You eagerly yet softly -- so sweetly -- return the kiss, your heart soaring high and melting at the same time. You graze your lips softly against his, inhaling his scent, his breath… and he reciprocates, pressing his full lips sweetly on your upper lip, on your lower, and on the corner of your mouth.

He breaks away from the kiss, both of you a little bit breathless, and you open your eyes to find him gazing at you tenderly. The afternoon breeze lets itself in through the window, gently ruffling the thin curtains, causing them to cast shadows playfully dancing on the floor beneath you. You gaze at him intently and tenderly as he does on you, and words of adoration fight their way out of your throat. No words can ever articulate the way you feel for him anyway, and so you giggle, brushing a stray strand away from his face.

"Kakashi?" You whispered to him, your cheeky grin getting wider. "I want you to kiss me again."

Kakashi looks back at you tenderly, a glint in his eye visible as his signature smirk forms in the corner of his mouth. He leans forward, just a little bit close, his lips just lightly touching yours, breathing in to your mouth.

You feel a smile form in his lips as he gently whispers into yours, his hand caressing your back, slowly and affectionately, sending shivers down your spine. "With pleasure."

#kakashi x reader #kakashi x you #kakashi imagines #kakashi scenario #afternoon kisses #kakashi tsukuyomi

110 notes · View notes

yvainegelinemarie · 3 years

Text

🖤🌸𝔐𝔯. 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔎𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔞 2021 𝔙𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔰 ℭ𝔞𝔯𝔡 ℜ𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔢𝔴 🌸🖤

I’m late I’m late for a very important dick appointment, date!

✨ 𝕳𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖔 𝐒𝖕𝖔𝖔𝐤𝖎𝖊𝖘!!~ ✨

Idk about ya’ll BUT these new karma cards got me all 🤰🏻🤰🏻🤰🏻

TW: Proceed with cation!! Do NOT open if you do not wish to soak your panties and/or cry your eyes out at my appalling sense of ‘humor’

*Today I will be rating the new Valentines Day art for the Karma cards. The rating process was done by comparing them to their previous valentines day cards and how they went against one another on their level of sexyness within each card.

🌸 𝕷𝖚𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖓 | 7/10 | 2nd Place

⚰️ My daddy he be lookin fine a FOULK this evening with his tiddie out. My baby knows how to keep me fed if ya know what I’m sayin.😏💦

⚰️ This beautiful, breathtaking, princely, lavishing work of art!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHGHJTE5LILO; (srry, orgasim seizure).

⚰️ It’s just *pats eyes with handkerchief* I have never in all my life, witnessed a man of this design. Please, don’t mind me. I just need a moment to bask in the glory of this angel.

⚰️ The 💦water droplets💦, his bedroom eyes, that CHEST- I-I...I just need a moment...

⚰️ Lucien has once and always stolen my heart BUT I do have to say that based off of some past cards, last years valentines card, and compared to Victor’s card this year that my Lulu has to come in second. 🤧

⚰️ His sultry, princely and sexyness is all there but we all know that Lucien can pull off a very dominating demeanor. Yet here he’s just giving me very submissive vibes this valentines. (Not that there is anything wrong with that.)

⚰️ And then this card has the AUDACITY to turn into this?!?! 👀👀

⚰️ Sighhhh...It is just so hard to watch MC living your dream...

⚰️ This card just looks so sweet. The carressing embrace, Lucien’s calmly surprised expression, it’s just all so gentle. awwwwwe!!

⚰️ Although this card is very romantic Lucien still looks very submissive and sweet. (Like homie looks like he’s never done this before which. LIES. BITCH I KNOW YOU) 👏🏼👏🏼

⚰️ One of the things I love the most about Lucien’s character is his very teasing and dominating aura and last years valentines card sucked that up and did a beautiful job of expressing his teasing personality in the artwork. I am hoping that maybe where this art is lacking the date itself will make up for it.

⚰️ I do find this card to be the second most sexy out of all the boys but I feel like it just doesn’t feel as Lucien as I would have liked it to.

⚰️ I do however find the artwork to be very beautiful and embracing. Especially when the card is evolved. The way Lucien holds MC in the second card creates this very innocent and warm embrace that reminds me of two people just on the verge of falling in love.

⚰️ It is a very sweet and romantic card and it is quiet cute to see Lucien all blushing and off guard instead of his usual impassive self.

🌸 𝐊𝖎𝖗𝖔 | 6/10 | 4th place

⚰️ The bestest boi of them all!!! 🥰

⚰️ Litterally nothing gets sweeter than Kiro!!

⚰️ So sweet, so fun loving! This sunshine of a boi makes life worth living! ☀️☀️

⚰️ Kiro is definitely the one who shows up at just the right time to make life a little better and brings out the inner child that my sun in capricorn tries to repress so intensely.

⚰️ And this card does that sweet and playful image justice. Always stay warm Kiro!!! AWWEEE!!!

⚰️ All I can say is I wish I was that dog so I can paw Kiro’s chest too. 🤭

⚰️ Now, It pains me to put Kiro last but it is just that I feel that his card lacks a lot compared to the valentines card from last year.

⚰️ We were hit with a very sexy Kiro and there has been plenty of other very VERY sexy Kiro cards up to this one that it just causes this one to hit different, you know?

⚰️ This one really captures Kiro’s loving and boyish personality so I definitely love it over all as a Kiro card. I think that it does wonderful in that aspect. But for valentines day? I expect something a bit more saucy...like an underwear model shoot maybe... 😜

⚰️ BUT THEN we get THISS!!

⚰️ S-Shirtless Kiro *Internal screaming* kahhhh!!! I can’t take it I. 😝

⚰️ Sometimes I forget just how HORNY Kiro issss....

⚰️ I think it’s safe to say that MC is only making that face NOT bc Kiro took that magazine but bc she be getting poked sitting in that lap like that.- 👀🍆

⚰️ Shirtless Kiro is an upgrade from what we had before BUT I still feel like this compared to the other guys and other very sexy kiro cards before that this still only gives a very innocnet and homey vibe.

⚰️ I do think that this card is very cute but when rating it on it’s quality of sexyness comapred to the other boys, I sadly have to put Kiro as last place.

⚰️ I am just hoping that next year all the Kiro stans get rewarded with a nice Calvin Klein underwear shoot. (I know I’d be happy)😌😌

🌸 𝐕𝖎𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖗 | 8/10 | 1st Place

⚰️ Tall, dark, and handsome AS FOULK!!!

⚰️ Victor never comes in to play no games yall!!! 👏🏼💦

⚰️ Did I say Kiro was horny? because I take that back. Sometimes I forget how BADLYYY Victor is trynnnaaa FUCK in EVERYYY date. 💀

⚰️ But like I ain’t mad. First off, Victor, daddy, can I have that designer bag? I’ll suck your di-

⚰️ Just the abs, that boujee ass robe even the cute ass fucking ties on his arm I-

⚰️ Victor be putting the standards for guys really fucking high in my book. AND I AIN’T MAD.

⚰️ I just love this card. It is honestly my favorite out of all of them (sorry Lulu) It’s mature, it’s sexy, it’s elegant, suttle, and EVERYTIME I look at it my heart flutters. This card is VERY Victor and a beautiful design of his character and it makes me VERY horny happy. 💦💦

⚰️ T-That angle... *blushes* He is ready to go to town if ya know what I mean.

⚰️ But given that facial expression he’s already busted it- 👀🤧

⚰️ On a real note tho. Victor looks so sweet and vulnerable here (*what a pussy) it’s so cuteee!!! Like I ain’t ever seen him look so sweet. (*fucking bitch.)

*I have a love hate relationship with Victor since he always likes to piss me off!!! But he cute so.

⚰️ Again I think that this card is my favorite out of all four of the valentines cards this year. I feel like the intimacy in this one is there. The imagery is very sexy but soft. I love their pose and I think that this card sells where we all like our minds to wonder off too.

⚰️ My absolutae favortie part is the simple pull on Victors unbuttoned shirt. It is just so sweet and so soft of an embrance.

⚰️But also Victor’s hand on the counter. I want that hand to smack my ass so hard fuck. 😋

⚰️ If I had to (and I do) make one complaint about this card it is that I honestly HATE Victor’s expression in the evoled. It’s just too soft and sweet for my liking. And as a Capricorn myself I can assure you that any slip up of us expressing even just the slightest bit of our vulnerability to anyone we will rip ourselves apart head to toe for years on that one single event and I assume that even during Victor’s most intimate times that stone cold look would not fade as easily as it does in this card.

⚰️I think that it is beautiful and no hate to the Victor stans who think he looks hot AF in this card. I am all for it. I just personally like my capricorns whipped into shape. 😌

🌸 𝐆𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖓 | 7/10 | 3rd Place

⚰️ This one gave me the most and best shock.

⚰️ My favorite Gavin cards are by far this and his valentines card from last year.

⚰️ There is just something about Valentines day that gets Gavin in a sexy mood. (you’re secretly a hopeless romantic, aren't you Gavin huh...huh???)😏

⚰️ First off, GAVIN!!! I ain’t ever seen you look so SEXY. Sending me Eboy vibes to the MAX ughhhhh!!!!

⚰️ I love the straps on his shirt and the fact that it’s wet and the glove PULLLLL!!! FUCKK GAVINNNNN!!! 💦🔥💦

⚰️ Gavin for me is everything that’s hot that I just can’t get behind but I WANT to get behind. You know? haha.

⚰️ He’s just such a good boy and a sad boi all at the same time and he holds a soft place in ma heart (but he’s definitely a one night stand and then I never call him again haahaaaa ahhhh) 🤧

⚰️ And then this card!! It is so cute! SO sweet!!! and just very beautifully intimate. They look so in love!!!

⚰️ I just know for a fact that this night is very gentle and very passionate.

⚰️ S3x with Gavin may not be intense, but it is love that we all at one point need okayyy!!. *cries* 🥲

⚰️ Gavin’s card is probably my 3rd favorite out of all of the boys this year. I do really love his pose and they are very sexy and very sweet and also very Gavin for his event cards. I also enjoy that his expression is still very true to his character in the last card (I’m looking at you lulu and vic)

⚰️ I just feel like the art lacks a lot of story in Gavin’s cards (even his ones last year too) They just look like they took valentines day photos together lol.

⚰️ I don’t hate them and they are very beautiful I just wish there was more going on then what looks to be like Gavin modeling for a brand of Makers Mark Whiskey lol.

⚰️ I actually haven’t played a single Gavin date🤭...so I don’t have much to say on how he reacts to MC outside of the regular story line and I am sure that his valentines date for our English Sever with him was very wonderful. Based off of Gavin’s main story character I wouldn’t consider him very romantic or at least not the one in control of planning their dates. I think that of all the boys Gavin’s Valentines would be the most laid back and I would like to see more of Gavin’s character coming through with the artwork of these dates if that’s the case.

ENDNOTES:

⚰️ On a serious note these cards are very beautiful although...I think I honestly enjoyed last years Valentines cards more than this one (the ones we got this year in the english server)... (omg...no way...she said it)

⚰️ Don’t get me wrong! All these cards are VERY sexy and I do like it but I feel like they almost lack intensity that last year SOLD us.

⚰️ I guess what I am trying to say is they all feel too vanilla if you know what I mean... Gavin’s card is the only one that gives me a sense of spice despite him being the sweetest out of all the boys. I just feel that these in comparison to how lavish last years cards were that I want to see more intensity.

⚰️ I am curious to know if the cards will ever get to that point (I know that the game wont give us full blown porn scenes...*sigh* lol) but I am looking forward to seeing some imagery to withhold the imagination of such.

⚰️ Basically I’m sad that Lucien had no scratch marks. That-That’s it! You caught me!! I just want to see my daddy’s skin all scratched up!! Is that too much to ask for?!

⚰️ ALSO I WANT FULL SHIRTLESS (WITH NIPPLES) SSR CARDDDSSSSSSS AHHHFGJGKRIGKECGHGERMCHM!!!!

⚰️ This is all written for shits n giggles. Please take this lightly and kindly let me know what karma card you liked the most.

Thank you for stopping by, 🖤 Yvaine.

#mlqc #mlqc mc #mlqc lucien #mlqc gavin #mlqc victor #mlqc kiro #mlqc zhou qiluo #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc bai qi #mlqc xu mo #love and producer #mr love queen's choice #mrlovequeenschoice #mr love victor #mr love kiro #mr love gavin #mr love lucien

40 notes · View notes

morwensteelsheen · 3 years

Note

farawyn and borodred for the ship ask game thing?

thank you so much!! :)

okay i’ll start with borodred because for some unfathomable reason i actually got there first —

1. What made you ship it?

One of my favourite Types of ships is the Elder Statesmen Of War-type set-ups, where it’s less about people brought together through theatrical romantic gestures and more about the steadiness of people who are going through similar (immensely difficult) circumstances, who know that in their hearts they’re always going to put their duty to that cause first, but still seek out human comfort in other people who will understand what their priorities are and why.

I think there’s also a lot of similarities about the kind of helplessness they both face despite having this tremendous innate strength. Both of them still have to deal with family dynamics that are complex (made more complex by the war) and that can’t be fixed just by their own sheer will power; both of them die these utterly unnecessary deaths (not that death makes a ship but I think in this instance it actually points to the constant tragedy these guys face); and both of them are meant to be the principal figures of their families and people and are ultimately sidelined by the cruel mechanisations of war and the forward march of history or whatever wanky term there is for it — my apologies to ep thompson's ghost, dont haunt me bro.

Plus there’s obviously the interesting thread raised when Faramir starts bitching about Gondor and likens Gondor (and by very explicit extension, Boromir) to Rohan. That always made me go ‘Hmmmmmm, wonder what else Boromir liked about Rohan,’ lmao.

Anyways for me the ship is the equivalent of Star Wars’ Kanan and Hera or (my OTP to end all others) Luke and Wedge, just people getting by on love and duty and without big ol fancy romance.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

The fanon, I think, really makes it, as with so many other LOTR ships. battlefield manners, by themightypen is essentially the definitive take for me on them — these two guys who are just so fucking exhausted, man, but still overcome by defensive love for their families, even if their (foster-)siblings are naïve fools. That I just love, love, love. Plus I think they’re unique for their ability to pretty comfortable explore the relationship between Gondor & Rohan in advance of the Ring War without having to stray too far into AU, which I always appreciate.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Not really, tbh, except in that I don’t think Boromir is necessarily as laddy as people like to portray him. I’m happy to play into it in, say, my modern AUs because I think that’s a fun and sweet niche for him, but I am a bit 🤪 about Boromir as this kind of reckless, drunken playboy (not least because I think that’s a much funnier niche for Faramir to fill, at least when he’s younger). Chapter Four of Swaddledog’s Hearts and Minds gets my preferred Boromir characterisation absolutely spot on, I think.

And now, sigh, the ultimate OTP, Farawyn —

1. What made you ship it?

For starters, I think I am obsessed with Éowyn in a way I’ve never quite been obsessed with any other fictional character. I came to reading LOTR at this moment in my life where I was intensely frustrated about everything — trapped inside permanently (helplessly!) because of the pandemic, just starting a new political organisation that I truly believed in but that was still making me feel like shit, facing down an untenable about of work, and, fundamentally, really, really hating being a woman and what that means. And along comes Éowyn, who is bitter, who is cold, who is ANGRY, and who doesn’t perform joy or softness or gentleness just because people expect her to. She’s this seminal Woman Of War in so many ways, I think the kind of person a lot of us wish we could be. She’s got her emotional taps cut off at the source, she holds her head high and faces down unimaginable personal and political terrors, and at the end of it all still has this abiding love for her family that, I would argue, is almost unparalleled by anyone else in the book.

After all that, she gets this incredible moment of emotional catharsis (or what we expect to be emotional catharsis): “no living man am I!” She undertakes THE greatest martial act of the Ring War, and in that moment there’s this unbelievably sophisticated dialogue happening about gender (“Éowyn it was, and Dernhelm also”), and leadership (Merry finding his courage not because of the immediate scenario of the Witch-king, but because he’s spurred into it by Éowyn’s presence), and love and care.

And then we learn that no, actually, this glorious act of violence wasn’t the emotional catharsis we thought it would be. She gets to ride to war, she gets to throw herself headlong at death, and in the end that hopeless act of individualism isn’t really what does it for her. She’s still left desolate and despairing, and actually all of her problems haven’t gone away.

And then we need to rewind a bit, because along comes Faramir, who is gentle, and is kind, and does seem to believe in joy, but not because people expect it — actually it's made abundantly clear nobody expects it — but because it’s something quite innate to how he figures the world. And he’s a huge fucking nerd too. I have a lot of thoughts on Faramir’s flaws and why I find them endearing, which I won’t put here, but almost immediately you get this sense of a guy who’s quite melodramatic, good humoured, and very much not made to live in a time of war.

But he’s also clear-headed about war and what it requires (tactically, if not strategically, though that’s a post for another day), but who is kind of cynical and weary of it in his own unique way. And it’s a unique cynicism given his personal circumstances because he’s the second son of The great family of Gondor, he’s apparently — though with some big ol’ question marks hanging about the extent — very able to command some of the elite units in the realm, and what’s more than that, he’s got all these fantastical powers (the light mind reading to start, to say nothing of this apparently magical ability to command animals too. bruh.). By all accounts he should be this brazen hot mess, but he’s not. He’s desperate to claw his way out of this war-torn cage of expectation his people have for how a man should comport himself in time of war. Is it a little naïve? Sure. A little fussy? Absolutely. But does it point to that same desperation that Éowyn has? Yes! But also the practicality, like, neither of them are really enjoying the circumstances they live under, but good fucking god are they both able to Make It Work.

So finally we get to the Houses of Healing and what is the finest and most aggressively romantic writing of LOTR. Seriously, it’s so fucking much. It’s breathtaking. It reminds me quite viscerally of this fabulous quote from Les Mis:

The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.

At some point I will devote more time to talking about the two reasons line, and the blissful Queen of Gondor speech, but I think to me that big, important line is: “And then her heart changed, or at least she understood it; and the winter passed, and the sun shone upon her.”

It’s not about Éowyn changing herself entirely (though, I think, it really does bear mentioning that she does change, and that’s every bit as important to understanding that scene as it is romantic), it’s about Éowyn coming to terms with how to live with herself as herself, and how to live in communion with someone else. She can’t just cut people out anymore, and she can’t just treat them as objects of infatuation as she did with Aragorn, she has to reckon with people as they are. And that’s sort of the moment where I knew I was about to plunge fully off the deep end with these two and never know a moments’ peace again, lmao.

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

Someone on here once called Farawyn a love letter to women and, by god, yes, exactly that. I love the capacity for emotional intimacy, that is beautiful in ways I can’t express. To me, though, my favourite thing is the promise of life they speak of. Not as in oh they shag loads and have babies (though not opposed to that, obviously), but in the sense that unlike Aragorn and Arwen, who are always going to be buried under/burdened with the crushing weight of history and tradition, Éowyn and Faramir are going out yonder those hills and they’re going to do some real cottagecore farming shit. Obviously with all the trappings of rank and nobility and whatnot, but they, unique to anybody else in the books, get to sow this new idea of what life should be. They are, outside of Aragorn, the single most powerful people in Gondor. Éowyn’s got the ear of a king, a steward (which is essentially a prime-ministerial deal here), and functionally her own prince (if the hobbits are to be believed when they refer to it as essentially hers). I suspect that, in life, there were remarkably few arguments she wasn’t winning, and that Ithilien probably trended towards the jumped up noble hippie camp Tolkien so desperately wanted Oxford to be (or, in other words — Cambridge, lol).

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Yeah, man, everybody stop treating Faramir like he’s a big fucking crybaby and Éowyn like she’s some kind of shrieking 2010-era tumblr girl.

One of the single most important lines defining Faramir’s character is when Denethor roasts his ass for always trying to appear noble and lordly, if you ignore every other piece of textual evidence we have about him, what part of that line makes you think Faramir’s some simpering daisy? And why would you want to link tremendous emotional intelligence and care with being too limp-wristed to function, lol??? Like I struggle loads with writing Faramir, because I have never once in my life tried to be noble or self-restrained, so find it hard to get into that mindset, but better, I think, to imagine him too closed off than to do this wilting flower song and dance lmao.

And stop making Éowyn out to be this over-emotional angst machine. She’s got problems, yes, and she’s sure as shit got a lot of angst, but at almost every point in the book where we’re overtly dealing with her emotions, she’s sublimating them into something else. One of the most serious times we see her cry is when she’s fighting with Aragorn about riding out, and after that moment she literally tries to kill herself. Those tears aren’t standard, man, that’s a real watershed (lol) moment for her. You have to read around what the text is saying to get a better feel why everybody’s constantly calling her cold and distant.

#god this is probably obnoxiously long because i can't do cuts on my phone #but refuse to open the tumblr website on my laptop lmao #faramir #éowyn #boromir #théodred #farawyn #borodred #god sorry for these fucking tags man im just trying to make my blog slightly more organised #i just have a lot of thoughts #i should really write more metas it would probably help my writing out quite a bit #asks #meta

20 notes · View notes

summerstardust · 4 years

Note

please continue second best if you didn’t plan on doing so already!! id love to see an ending to it!! it was so nice and i wasn’t really expecting that twist! much love!!

A/N: Thank you, to this lovely anon! I’m so happy that you enjoyed Second Best. I hope that you enjoy this story! Much love!!!

Number One Priority

Ganger!Doctor x Reader

Summary: After the events that occurred on St. John’s Base, the reader falls into a deep depression. The Doctor comes to terms with how much he ignored your needs, in the time before these events, and tries to form one last ditch effort to do right by you. Sequel to Second Best.

Warnings: mentions of character death and depression

Word Count: 2051

The Doctor fiddled with his new sonic screwdriver, the TARDIS having made him a new one after his previous sonic was destroyed with St. John’s Base and the Gangers within. There were a few new changes made to it, which he couldn’t quite figure out, but he assumed that it was because of the psychic link made to it by his Ganger. The thought of him was more upsetting to The Doctor than he imagined. The link between the two of them was strong, considering that The Doctor willingly created his Ganger, offering him all of his memories. He was fully prepared for his Ganger to be different than him in thought processes. He had seen many clones in his long life, none of them were ever completely identical to the person who was cloned. He did not expect his Ganger to get close to you, however. He should have guessed, but he admitted that he was stuck in his ways. The Doctor assumed that because Amy was the first face his current regeneration saw, his Ganger would feel the same way about her, but naturally his Ganger would have their own personal favorite person. You were his Ganger’s first face.

The Doctor could sense how sad you were at the Ganger!Doctor’s death, even before the signs were evident. He knew that he hadn’t been the kindest to you. He offered you the universe, a room, a home away from your life on Earth, but possessing practically anything at the snap of your fingers doesn’t make a person happy. People needed people. That’s why The Doctor sought out companions, that’s why Rory always fought for Amy, and that’s why you and The Ganger!Doctor were drawn to each other. The Doctor knew you needed someone, and he hated a part of himself for not caring for your emotional needs earlier, but he knew that he had the opportunity to correct some of his emotional neglect and bring back the person who cared for you as much as you cared for him.

Many adventures past and you still hadn’t left your room, or if you had, you asked the TARDIS to keep you away from The Doctor and whatever companions might be on board at the current moment. You didn’t see a point in interacting with them and you were fearful that if you left your room for longer than a food run, The Doctor would ask you to leave his ship. You wanted to remain in the TARDIS, you didn’t have anything to go back to on Earth, but you could not even obtain enough energy to take a shower most days. You knew that there was no way you could keep up with The Doctor’s boyish antics, but you did not want to give up your opportunity to see the universe.

After your shower one day, you sat in your towel in front of your closet. You were not thinking about what to wear. You were thinking about whether or not you should leave the TARDIS of your own free will before The Doctor could kick you out.

A knock at your door drew you from your thoughts. You knew that it was the Timelord, so you took a deep breath before allowing The Doctor to enter your room. He bashfully looked away from your body, and you apologised for your lack of clothing. He said that you were fine and asked if he could sit on your bed. You nodded in response. The Doctor stared at your wall before speaking softly, but unable to look at you.

“Y/N, I just wanted to apologise for my poor treatment of you.” You interrupted him, saying that everything was fine, but he wouldn’t allow you to speak that way. “It’s not okay, Y/N. I played favorites with my companions and I shouldn’t. I offered you and Amy and Rory and River the opportunity to see everything, anything you could want in the universe. I said that I would show you that. Well. I’ve shown you many things, but not the most important.” You asked what he was referring to, but he wouldn’t elaborate.

“I really enjoyed and am thankful for the opportunity to see the universe, Doctor.”

“I know, that’s why I need to introduce you to one last adventure.” You became so fearful when he said this, turning toward him and reaching out to him.

“I don’t have a home outside the TARDIS, Doctor. I have nothing to go back to.” The Doctor faced you, confronted by the fear in his eyes. He knew that he could brighten your life by what he had planned, but it broke his hearts to see you so scared.

“One last adventure, Y/N. There are more adventures available if you ever want to take up the offer, but, for the moment, this adventure takes precedence.” The Doctor hates endings, you could not wrap your head around how he was so cheerful at the thought of you leaving, causing you to wonder if he ever liked you at all.

“Doctor, I don’t want an adventure, if it means that I have to leave.”

“Oh, Y/N, I am positive that you will prize this adventure above any you had ever been on with me.” He stood up and brushed off his pants, “Now, get dressed! Today is an important day!”

You dressed slowly after he left, unprepared and anxious about what The Doctor was preparing, but you pushed forward and silently walked to the console room. The Doctor was bubbly and bouncing around the console. He was even humming a blissful tune. The TARDIS landed, and instead of bounding outside as usual, he made a quick call on the phone attached to the console.

“Is everything ready?” He spoke quietly, as if he was hiding something. You couldn’t hear that response, but by The Doctor’s excited reaction, the response was positive.

“Excellent, we will be out momentarily!” The Doctor hung up the phone and turned to you, gesturing toward the door. You were solemn, but you moved to the door. You breathed in deeply before opening the TARDIS door.

When you exited the TARDIS you saw a grassy meadow, the breeze moving the blazes waves of green. There was a blue house, large enough for a decent sized family, cozily nestled next to a dense forest. You turned to The Doctor to ask what all of this was about, but he only pointed at the door of the house you heard creaked open. You looked to where the Timelord was pointing, you face dropping when you saw who stood in the doorway. You couldn’t help but turn back hopefully to The Doctor, who nodded reassuringly that this was not a dream. You ran to the Ganger!Doctor, who met you halfway, before wrapping his arms tightly around your torso in a breathtaking hug.

“How-how did you survive?” You ghosted your hands over his face in disbelief. You eventually settled on placing your hands on his shoulders, comforted by the fact that he truly was real and this wasn’t a dream.

“Well, technically I didn’t, but I did, but I also didn’t. You understand, right?” You questioned if his rambling explanation revolved around the molecular memory of Gangers. “Yes! That’s it! New body, same mind! I knew I liked you for a reason, always so observant!” The two of you laughed in unison at his boyish excitement. You stared at him for a moment, scared that he might disappear if you were to look away. You reached up to straighten his bowtie, unaware of the Ganger!Doctor’s loving smile he gave because of your act of intimacy. You quickly jumped back to look at his face.

“Wait! What should I call you?” The Ganger!Doctor smiled curiously.

“What do you mean? I’m the Doct-”

“I know, but it's a bit,” You turned away from the Ganger, looking toward The Doctor leaning against his TARDIS. “Awkward calling both of you by the same name.”

“What about John Smith?” The Doctor quickly piped up behind you.

“Smith, John Smith … John Smith … John Smith! I like it!” The Ganger!Doctor, or rather John Smith, said the name in a different tone each time he said it.

“Yeah, I thought you might!” The Doctor mumbled behind you, turning to his side, to play with the TARDIS door handle, to give the two of you a bit more privacy.

You quieted your tone, in case The Doctor heard you, “I’m so happy to see you again, but why are you here and what is this place?”

“If you want it, Y/N. It will be our home.” He looked so hopefully toward you.

“Our home? Why would you want to be with me, there are so many better people.” You brushed off the possibility of being happy with him, you didn’t think that you were good enough to be with someone as kind as him.

“Stop that, Y/N. I told you before that you are my number one priority.” He raised a pointed finger toward you to show the seriousness of his point.

“Really?” You couldn't really believe what you were hearing, just as you didn’t believe him when he first said it.

“Cross my hearts.” Again to add credence to his point, The Ganger!Doctor used his hands to physically cross his hearts. You felt like you were going to cry out of happiness and finally feeling accepted by someone, so you hugged The Ganger!Doctor, hiding your face into his shoulder. The Doctor hesitantly stepped toward the two of you before speaking.

“I’ll leave the two of you to fix things up and plan and be back in a mo.”

“Wait! You're not kicking me out!” You turned to face your friend, but continued to hug The Ganger.

“Of course not! Both of you are perfectly welcome to travel with me and see the universe, if you so wish, but everyone needs a home base.” You looked into the eyes of the Ganger!Doctor who looked so happy and hopeful to have a life with you and you would be lying if you didn’t feel the same way. You said that you would really like to live that life, causing The Ganger!Doctor’s smile to grow. Even the Doctor smiled at the happy moment.

“Now go explore your new home and life, Y/N. I will be back soon to see if the pair of you want to travel.” You ran to hug The Doctor before he could enter his TARDIS, and you thanked him for doing this for you.

“Of course, Y/N. You deserve love and happiness, just like everyone else. It is an honor to have helped you on your journey to your very own fairytale ending.” You hugged him again before he shoved you off toward the home and The Ganger!Doctor, whose hand you clasped happily as he led you into your new home.

The Doctor looked onto his TARDIS monitor, calibrated to show him what was going on outside. Just before he was about to zip off on an adventure to buy your budding romance time, The Doctor saw, through an open window, his Gangerbrush his thumb against your cheek before he leant in and placed a delicate but strong kiss to your lips. You bashfully looked away after the kiss ended, smiling brighter than The Doctor had ever seen you smile before. He saw your pure joy that was emitted whenever you caught the Ganger!Doctor’s stares, how red your face became when you blushed after kissing him back, how tight the two of you held each other when you would hug, as if the both of you were afraid of losing the other. He knew that the two of you were meant to be. It saddened him that he could not be perfect for you and that he wasn’t there for you when he should have been, but he knew that you were in good hands and that you, inturn, would teach his Ganger much. And of course, you were just a phone call away. But what mattered now was your happiness and future with the person you loved and loved you passionately in return.

#doctor who imagine #doctor who x reader #doctor who #ganger!doctor #ganger!doctor x reader #ganger!doctor imagine #11th doctor #eleventh doctor #fanfiction #personal post #anon

80 notes · View notes

disasterbialert · 4 years

Text

So, I finished The Untamed and ok ok I think I have collected most of my thoughts about it. (I’m late, so I guess these thoughts don’t really matter, but I wanted to put them somewhere and here seemed like the place.) SO here’s a post absolutely NO ONE WANTS and imma do it anyway cool cool.

Firstly: love. This entire show is about love. Obviously other things too ok I’m simplifying for the sake of my point. But importantly it is about love. The love for our families, found, made and blood. The love of soulmates, romantic and platonic. The love of humanity, of the people known and unknown, love for them purely because they are human and are therefore deserving of love. The love inherent in honour and duty, the sacrifices made for that love. Loving someone—bravely, in the face of every adversity, despite being told it’s wrong. Learning to be true to that love, learning to love faithfully, learning to love, to show love, to be loved.

Bless the tireless translators. Y’all. The work you do is often thankless but y’all are so valued. Thank you.

The music. I actually don’t have the words for this, I can only thank the composers and musicians for the gifts they have blessed us with. My heart my heart my heart.

The costumes, set, props and cinematography are all so exquisite. I’m not an expert in any of these fields but I can see the care and detail paid to each facet of this show. What an absolute visual joy. Stunning.

And now, the characters.

I’ll start with the ladies. They deserved so much more. We deserved to have more than just one by the end, but I understand this wasn’t their story (still hurts tho).

Jiang Yanli. Proof that kindness is powerful. Her heart holds entire worlds. She is not weak (don’t even try me I swear to the gods). She holds her family together. She takes care of her siblings. She feeds their bodies and their souls. WWX is right—JZX does not deserve her but that’s because nobody does. But Jiang Yanli deserves to be happy, therefore her marriage to the Flower Peacock is valid purely bc it makes her happy. She stands up for what’s right, she will not compromise her morals, she will defend her family to her last breath (and so she does💔). She does not harden herself, she does not have to. Her patience and kindness, her softness, her gentleness—things that are seen as weaknesses or inferiorities—are what put her above all around her. She is gracious, she is strong, she is loving, she is determined, she is brave. She deserved better.

Wen Qing. A queen. A powerhouse. The most brilliant mind. A lightning-quick and sharp-bladed tongue. She loves Wen Ning so much and her love is powerful, just as Jiang Yanli’s. Her dedication and devotion to her people, her true family, not just a name, is incredible, inspiring. Why? Because she’s not perfect. So she learns. She grows. She becomes herself. When she’s at the Burial Mounds, she essentially adopts WWX as another younger brother, caring for him because she knows he won’t care for himself, and she does so out of love and respect. But she never replaces Jiang Yanli. She is keenly aware of all she perceives WWX loses because he aids them. Hence the pivotal, crucial: I’m sorry and thank you. She walks to what she knows is her own death with her head held high and her hand in her brother’s, offering love and support and what protection she can to the end. She does not flinch. She does not bow. She fights with all of her and surrenders with grace not reflected by those she surrenders to. Honestly I could write an entire thesis on Wen Qing but I’ll cry too hard so I’ll just leave it here that she deserved better, she deserved to live, she deserved to be free.

Mian Mian. Mian motherfucking Mian. Here is a woman who stares injustice full in the face and says no fucking way, says over my dead body, says you and what army old man. Strips the robes of the hypocritical off her own damn body, throws them at the feet of a false god and walks out, back straight, head held high. She makes her own way in the world, carves out her own life, finds love and happiness and lives. She does not compromise. She does not bow. She fights and she wins and she is glorious. And she lives she lives she lives.

Yu ZiYuan. I may be in the minority here but that’s ok. No I don’t approve of her abuse, just gonna nip that one in the bud right out of the gate. Was she fair? No. Was she cruel? Yes. Was she an incredible fighter who fought for her family, for her home? Who showed raw courage and furious strength in the face of insurmountable odds? Who loved a man with her whole bitter heart, loved her children with that same fractured heart? Was clearly the subject of spiteful rumour and vicious gossip and did not let it defeat her? Refused to bow to anyone? I do not like her, do not like how her bitterness made her cruel. But seeing her wield her blade, take wound after wound, witness the death of her love, then take her own blade and rob the monsters invading her home of the satisfaction of taking her life, took her own life with her own hands because that’s how she did everything in her life so why the fuck wouldn’t she do it in death too, who crawled her way to the man she loved, laced their fingers together so he wouldn’t die alone, so they could both die held? How can I not respect her.

Ok. The lads.

Jiang Cheng is a man-child idiot with the emotional expression range of a loquat, an inferiority complex the size of the moon and self-worth issues going back farther than the Big Bang, and I love him, ok? He loves so hard and so much and it is heartwrenching that he cannot communicate that. Some of his best moments are actually in the background, which is both funny and terribly sad. His rage is at times ridiculous, at times frustrating, at times all he has left, his joy is bright but brief, his grief is devastating. Watching JY greet WWX after the 3 months in the Burial Mounds. The entire temple scene. Crying on his knees. We were to be the Heroes of Yunmeng. Take care. Fuck me right in my feelings ok.

Wen Ning is so fucking precious and I would die for him for all eternity. What an absolute gift his character is. I honestly can’t write much more about him because I’ll cry. But special mentions to his interactions with A-Yuan/Lan SiZhui and the incredible scene where he reveals to Jiang Cheng the truth about his/WWX’s golden core. Unparalleled emotional intensity. The equal parts tenderness and fierceness of his love is breathtaking.

And the loves.

Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen. There is a lot of tragedy in The Untamed. There is great sadness in the main plot line and even in the small side plots. The Ballad of Song Lan and Xian Xingchen (as it’s come to be known in my head) is for me the most devastating and poignant. They just wanted to do good, to wander the world together and do their part to make it a better and safer place. It’s noble, yes, but it’s also so human, so close to home. Because we all want that, to know that we can do some good before we leave this world. They do not want to be involved in the petty squabbles, the undignified and cruel vying for power and dominance. They simply want to live and be. The fact that both of their deaths are pointless, could have been avoided, are the faults of poor timing and terrible terrible luck and cruel turns fate is almost what makes it sadder. Xue Yang screams that XXC is not better than him, that his righteousness and the righteous way he has attempted to live his life is all for naught. And then he is immediately proven wrong—XXC’s heartbreak means he can’t become XY’s puppet. SL is free from XY’s control and avenges himself and XXC. Which is also somehow just as devastating. That XXC and SL were so close, so very close to being together, to living, to making it, but didn’t. Nothing grand or heroic about their deaths—just the unknown and unpredictable nature of life. There is no rhyme or reason, no big important plan, no fate or destiny. They both simply die as we all one day will. And it is their potential cut short, the love and life they could’ve had, that hurts the most. They are not Lan Zhan and Wei Ying: they do not get their second chance, their reunion, their happily ever after. The look shared between SL and LWJ—the shared grief, the recognition, the understanding—and LWJ’s brief and unelaborated-on comment to WWX ‘how fortunate’ speaks volumes. How fortunate you came back/I found you/that’s not us when it could’ve been. That final shot of SL walking away and the brief out-of-focus moment of XXC walking beside him—particularly when it’s echoed with the parallel of WWX and LWJ—chokes me every time.

Wei Ying and Lan Zhan. Soulmates in every sense of the word. Their song. Their bunnies. Their child. The years they were robbed of. The yearning. The pining. The loyalty. The growth. The love the love the love. The loss the loss the loss. Every Lan Zhan. Every Wei Ying. Every glance. Every soft breath. Every gentle touch. The tenderness. The intimacy. The quiet acceptance. Their love story is one of the ages and, on a personal note as a queer person, what a gift it is to see a queer love story like this. (even when censored as a bromance, which like I mean, they tried but the glances alone are +9000 gay pining but whatever and yes I am making a joke because I’m crying don’t look at me)

TL;DR: I am so thankful The Untamed/CQL/MDZS and all of its adaptations (the source material included obvs) exists. I am so thankful to the writers, translators, casts, crews, creators. I am thankful for the community of fans that exist that love it as I do, who share that love and passion—whether through passionate discussion, rich fanfic or mind-blowing fanart. I am thankful I live in a time where content like this exists and can be shared. I learned a whole lot and I’m so grateful there aren’t even words. Love y’all. I’m gonna go be soft now. 💙

84 notes · View notes

onestowatch · 3 years

Text

Lowertown Is Growing Up [First Look + Q&A]

Photo: Shamshawan Scott

Olivia Osby and Avsha Weinberg always knew they wanted to make music. The difficult part came when the inevitable questions of how and with who would arise. At least that was the case until a chance encounter in a high school math class in suburban Atlanta, which would eventually serve as the birthplace for Lowertown. Now, a few odd years later Olivia and Avsha find themselves signed to Dirty Hit, home to the likes of The 1975 and beabadoobee, and aiming to make their most ambitious project to date.

“The Gaping Mouth,” a sprawling confessional that blends soft-spoken lyricism bordering on avant-garde poetry and experimental indie rock instrumentation, arrives as the first taste of that ambition. The titular single from their forthcoming EP, set to release September 16, feels like a daring call to arms, a single firework shot in the dark, impossible to ignore and indistinguishable. Most notably of all, it feels like a noted maturation for the duo, a step forward into new, uncharted territory.

On the new single, Osby ponders on the object of her affection, or rather attention, repeatedly uttering the lines “You are the iris in my eye” until they no longer seem to be coming from her, taking on the weight of a mantra spoken outside herself. It’s only one such instance of the duo’s newfound stream-of-conscious lyrical approach, which sees them ruminating on the fallacy of growing up and the associated fantasies that come with it. All of this is complemented by the duo’s fearless instrumentation and production flourishes, which call to mind everything from experimental ‘90s indie rock to the sonic detours that permeated Sufjan Steven’s early works.

We had the chance to speak to Lowertown via e-mail about the difficulties of shifting from “teenagerdom” to adulthood, the advantages of having a french fry fork and their bold new musical direction.

You two originally met in a high school math class. How did the discussion of music first get brought up and how did it lead to forming Lowertown?

Avsha: Olivia was a new student at the school, and I was shy, so we had sat next to each other for some time before we really had any conversation. After some months, I would look at the music Olivia would listen to over her shoulder and make small excited comments or jokes. That’s how our friendship began, through comments about Olivia’s love of emo music or my insufferable judgment on some new music I had heard. It took a year for us to start thinking about doing music together. The eventual forming of Lowertown happened on a beach in Ottawa, where I was again making a judgment on some new song I had found and decided to show Olivia some of my demos. That was where we decided to work together. Those demos and others eventually formed our first record Friends

Were there ever any thoughts about pursuing music before that fateful meeting?

Olivia: I’d always hoped to be able to do music professionally, but it had always seemed like it was so far away from being possible. I always knew that even if my solo music did not work out as a career, I wanted to work in the music field. Whether that was becoming a manager for other musicians or becoming a booking agent, I knew for a long time I wanted to be surrounded by music no matter what I ended up doing.

A: I had spent almost my entire life hoping to be a musician. I started playing classical piano at age four, and up until two years ago, was planning on going to a conservatory and becoming a concert pianist. As my taste expanded, I taught myself guitar, drums, bass, and production, all with the hopes of continuing professionally. Growing up, I was exposed to many different artists and genres, and I always wanted to give people what the music that I grew up with gave to me. The demos that I had recorded in middle school were the ones I showed Olivia and the ones that led to us knowing that we had to start a band.

What was it like signing to Dirty Hit?

A: The process of signing was definitely a difficult one as we had begun talking with the label only a few months before COVID, and as we were narrowing down on the decision to sign, it became incredibly difficult to see a scenario where we would be able to meet anybody on the label. We ended up having many, many FaceTime and Zoom conversations, wherein we were able to talk in-depth with the team and get a good sense of the label. These conversations were really great, and it was a great signifier of the relationship to come as we have had a really great relationship with the label. Although the signing process was tumultuous, we were able to grasp that the relationship between Dirty Hit and their artists was a familial one, and that made us incredibly excited to work together.

If you could have one thing in the world at this very moment, what would it be?

O: A good night’s sleep. I have terrible insomnia and can’t remember the last time I had one.

A: A french fry fork. I’m pretty exhausted with how messy eating french fries is.

Has the past year affected how your approach music at all?

A: In the past, I knew that the more I worked, the better I became, but this year has shown me that the times that you choose to completely leave some things alone are just as important as the times that you focus all your energy on them. I was completely drained of inspiration and motivation until I was able to sit and do absolutely nothing. The lack of music helped me realize that there was a lot about myself that I wasn’t thinking about. I was able to learn more about myself and have new sources of inspiration and thought.

O: For sure. This year has given me an excessive amount of time to get better at playing music in general since I’ve been on my own so much. It has also given me too much time to sit and think by myself, which can be beneficial for music but also pretty detrimental at the same time. I’ve ended up feeling like my old sound and writing process was really stale, since I had been writing songs the same way for years. I’ve ended up experimenting a lot with new sounds and approaches to songwriting, which has been extremely refreshing and I feel like it’s brought out some of my best work. I used to put way less emphasis on instrumentation, but now that I’ve progressed a lot musically, I’ve written a lot of instrumentation that I’m very proud of and that has ended up developing into Lowertown work. I also learned a lot about production over this past year which has been extremely inspiring and helpful for my solo work.

How did you approach the songwriting on “The Gaping Mouth?” The lyricism and experimental instrumentation are honestly breathtaking.

A: When composing the instrumentals, I wanted to write a song that was very expressive and unique but that worked entirely on feeling rather than a traditional verse and chorus song. I wanted to write the piece with points that I knew the guitars would push Olivia’s voice to the forefront and points that raised the energy around Olivia’s words. Olivia’s lyrics are so personal, and she always has so much to say, so I wanted the whole song to ebb and flow together with the identical, and occasionally reciprocal, emotion and intimacy.

O: Avsha sent me this beautiful guitar piece one day and it immediately connected with me, and I stayed up all night working on it. I recorded a demo take of the vocals, just singing/talking over the song where it felt right and natural. That first take I took at home at four in the morning actually ended up being used in the final song because it felt so emotive and raw. The first vocal take had an unmatched authenticity that we couldn’t capture again in the studio no matter how many takes we tried. Our producer Catherine ended up falling in love with it as well and did not want to try to replicate something that was already amazing as it was.

There’s a real sense of maturation present not just in the delivery of the single but in the lyrics, “Being stupid and being 15 / Being older and think I know who I am and what I want… / The way I stay the same and I never change.” Is growing up or rather the idea of growing up a central theme to the music you’re currently working on?

O: I had just graduated high school when we were writing this new project, and I was feeling extremely anxious about the trajectory of my life. I kept thinking about if I was doing all that I should be doing at this age and how much had I really changed since the beginning of high school. I felt like a lot of mannerisms and detrimental ways of thinking that had plagued me when I was 14-15 were still incredibly present in my life, and it felt pathetic to think that I had not made much progress on some of my biggest shortcomings since I had first become a teenager. I feel like at 18/19, you’re not quite an adult, but you’re no longer just a teenager. You begin to shoulder real responsibility and have a lot of agency over your life. It’s quite terrifying being the one who has the power to make important personal decisions. If you screw up, it’s on you and no one else. The transition from high school where you have assignments to turn in every day and tests and a crazy amount of structure (you wake up and go to bed the same time every weekday) to making music and creating with a self-made schedule can be extremely jarring. I’m still grappling with that transition, as my workflow can sometimes trail into six in the morning which sometimes becomes a problem.

“The Gaping Mouth” is the eponymous single from your forthcoming EP. What can people expect from your new EP?

O: It’s gonna be leveled up from anything we’ve dropped before! This is our first project recorded in a studio setting as well as working in-person with a producer. We’ve matured since our last project as musicians and we’ve simply grown more into adults. A lot of this was written when we were 18 and when we’d just turned 19, and a lot of things happened at that point in our lives to write about. Our producer Catherine really helped push me to my full potential while working together. There are some louder songs mixed with some instrumentally dense and beautiful songs. There’s a good amount of experimentation as well in this project that I’m excited for everyone to hear.

A: We’ve focused so much on our songwriting and composition; I think people will be able to hear how we’ve matured. I think this EP reflects our need to always change our sound and grow it. It’s exciting because I think it’s really fresh and still has our musical roots sewn into the core.

And what’s one thing you hope people take away from this next stage of your music?

A: I hope people are able to see the world and the story that we want to create with our music. I hope people can see that our sound will always be maturing and that our music can be surprising and exciting.

O: I feel like our fan base has grown alongside us. Lowertown has been a project since we were 16 and it feels like it has already come so far, which is so amazing and I’m really thankful for everything that’s happened thus far. I hope our music can continue to authentically capture each stage of life Avsha and I live through while making music together. This record was written fresh after graduating high school, so I hope those who are grappling with the jarring transition from teenagerdom to adulthood can find some solace in the feelings expressed in this record.

What is your go-to fast food order?

O: We’re both pescatarian so sometimes finding easy fast food can be annoying. I’m a big burrito person so I’ll always get a bean burrito with a ton of veggies.

A: A universal choice for me in any fast food place would be an extra large order of fries, or however many is the most they offer, and a large Diet Coke. There were points during this year where every day of the week was punctuated with an absurd amount of McDonald’s fries and hot sauce.

Who are your Ones To Watch?

O: Pretty Sick , Horse Jumper of Love, N0v3l

A: Uboa, OOIOO, Donzii

#lowertown #interview #the gaping mouth #indie #indie rock

4 notes · View notes

efrmellifer · 3 years

Text

Unrestrained

Seven Days of Estinyan, Day Seven

As Etien walked to the aetheryte, the basket laden down with food (enough for a light dinner, anyway) swung on her arm with every step.

She stood, arms folded at her diaphragm while she waited, scanning the stairways from Saint Valeroyant’s and Saint Reinette’s Forums, mind wandering to the point she didn’t actually notice Estinien walk up to her until he swept an eyelash off her cheek.

“Hello, Estinien,” she said with a smile, reining her thoughts back into her head.

“Is that heavy?” he asked, gesturing to the basket.

She shook her head. “But I appreciate your asking.”

“So where are we going?”

She’d started casting the spell already, but she stopped to answer him. “Fallgourd Float.”

He looked down at her, trying to sort through the tidbits that she had told him about the Black Shroud and determine which region of the forest they would be in.

“North Shroud?” he asked finally.

She nodded, having returned to casting the spell for them to travel there.

“Not very far to go,” he said when they had arrived, the late-afternoon sunshine warming him considerably. Etien was shedding her coat, too.

“Not far, no, but far enough across the Central Highlands, and I didn’t want you to already be sweaty when we got here.”

His brow knit. “Am I going to get sweaty?”

She just gave him a sweet smile and a lift of her eyebrows.

She still walked through the Shroud with the confidence that came from making a home there, gaining intimate knowledge of the place. It was a way that she didn’t really walk through Ishgard, even when she’d gained a proper familiarity with its gray stones and vertical spread.

In Ishgard, her vibrant colors—both in her clothing and the natural shades of her hair and eyes—stuck out. Here, she looked like a natural part of the scenery.

And here, Estinien looked the odd man out, all pale hair and pale eyes. A winter man wandering spring’s dominion.

But she just looked over her shoulder to make sure he was following her. So he did, even taking her hand when she reached back to offer it.

Eventually, she led him up a hill, close to one of those tall buildings that seemed to populate the Shroud. A watchtower, if he remembered correctly.

She sat, setting her coat down carefully next to her, and patted the patch of grass beside her. “Come sit down, Estinien,” she chirped.

When he did, she took off the cloth covering the basket’s content, revealing cut fruit, cheeses (and spreads Etien could eat), and crackers.

She spread some of the cheese out for him, then handed the cracker over, taking one for herself.

When he’d finished chewing and had swallowed, he commented, “a pretty view.”

Etien sat back on her hands. “It is. This part of the Twelveswood is really pretty, I think. There are pretty parts in the South, too. Just about everywhere, there’s somewhere really breathtaking. But this is home—well, it was. You know what I mean.”

Estinien turned to face her, instead of staring at the trees in the distance. “Did you live up here?”

“Well, I lived in Alder Springs, that way,” she pointed in the general direction. “Still in the North Shroud, but over there. I’ve wandered just about every fulm of the area, alone or with others.”

“Others being?”

She shrugged. “Hunting parties. T’ahn, once.”

“Only once?”

She swallowed, placing the cracker she had been eating in her lap. “We didn’t see each other very often later in the relationship.”

Sudden curiosity overtook Estinien, and though Etien was staring at her lap, he took the chance to pick at the scab, just one little scratch. If she hissed, literally or metaphorically, he would stop. “How long were you together?”

“Too long.” She shook her head, as she usually did when she was trying to clear her mind. “It was… a bad decision, but it doesn’t matter now. I’m thousands of times happier and more secure.” She leaned against him. “I never want to think of him again. I know I’m cursed to, because of how everything happened, but… when I’m with you, there’s no reason he has to cross my mind.”

Estinien patted her head. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“What is intimacy but baring things we usually cover and not flinching when we’re looked at?” She finished the cracker she had abandoned and took another. Estinien continued eating, too.

When the little jars of spreads were empty, all that was left of the cheese was the wax, and not even crumbs remained as evidence there had been crackers, Etien sat back on her hands again. But this time, she was looking at Estinien.

In the last of the day’s light, he looked just a little bit like he was glowing—she figured it was a trick of the light on his hair, but she still liked it.

She was opening her mouth to comment on this, how pretty he looked, when he spoke before she could.

“Lots of lancers and archers out.” He gestured to the Wood Wailers wandering down the forest path. “Almost like we belong here.”

Etien snorted, both to brush off how her attempt at romance had been foiled, and because it was a funny observation. “If we belong anywhere.”

He scooted a little closer to her, crossing his legs so he could seat himself next to her outstretched ones. “Well, belong was perhaps the wrong word. But we belong together,” he said, taking her hand. “The Wood Wailers make sense for the same reason we do.”

“The archers give up home and the lancers lose it, like us?” she scoffed.

“I was thinking mutual benefit and support, but if you insist on being difficult,” he groused, “I can take my flirtation elsewhere.”

Now she clung tight to his hand. “No, stay. Please.” She pointed up at the sky. “Look, the stars are starting to come out.”

Estinien looked up, then back to her, though she still had her head tipped back, mouth open and arced into a smile that drew attention to her eyeteeth.

That is, it drew his attention until he looked at how her eyes crinkled with the joy, having him and her both whispering “wow,” for completely different reasons.

Well, maybe not so different. They were both looking at something beautiful.

“This is going to sound silly,” she said, flicking her eyes to him for a moment, then watching the stars again, “but I feel more free tonight than I did any night I spent out here before… before.”

“Even with everything that constitutes the after?” he asked.

“Even with that. I don’t get to choose much, because of the after, but I did choose this. And I’m happy about it and with it.”

He couldn’t fight the smile that came with the feeling of her grip tightening ever so slightly as she said it.

He leaned across the small gap between them and kissed the corner of her mouth.

She turned into it, letting go of his hand so she could hold him—maybe not more properly, just differently. Closer.One hand settled on his shoulder, and the other slipped into his hair while the kiss developed into something more purposeful and less self-denying.

As he leaned into her, she started to more fully recline, which he supposed made sense, when she no longer had her hands behind her for support, but something about it still felt like it was in excess.

Even so, he let his hand come around her back to ease her to the ground more slowly.

Did he chafe slightly at the thought of lying atop her in the middle of the woods, with all the Wailers around, here at dusk? Yes. But he was enjoying this too much to actually let it change his behavior.

As her hand drifted from resting on his shoulder to curling around his upper back to bring him closer for her to kiss, a thought came to Estinien, though he was trying to quiet his thoughts for the time being.

This was… perfectly rational. Or at the very least, not irrational.He’d lost most of his adolescence, what was left of it given to training as a knight. And though she had not told him how long she had been with T’ahn, he could guess, and if she had left him and Alder Springs at nineteen…

They deserved some excessively youthful-for-their-age petting in the wilds of the Black Shroud.

So he surrendered to the warmth of her breath and the coolness of her skin.

His hand spread over her cheek, catching strands of her hair between his fingers, so soft and yet soft in a different way from her skin below his palm.

His palm, he knew, rough from the handling of a lance all the time. Her fingers were never so rough, even when she came home from the hardest fights of her life.

So much of her was soft, despite the raw power contained within her.

Her hair, her skin, her lips, even her legs pressed up against his sides as if to hold him right where he was were soft over the strength of the muscles there.

And her heart was soft, soft enough to see the years of pain that he’d channeled into single-minded pursuit of a revenge that hadn’t even been as sweet as it was promised to be—she saw him in that infirmary bed, weakened from his battle—and she still thought he was worth loving.

She did choose this.

And he was happy about and with it.

#good evening I went NUTS to close this #fic #estinyan #remember when they were shy about being seen together? yeah me too

2 notes · View notes

takethisroad · 4 years

Note

you should do a fic recs post 👀

AAYYYYEEEE

mkay so obviously this is going to vary wildly for people because these are my fave BS fics and the only factor I have in choosing them is: DOES IT SPARK WILD EMOTIONS AND MAKE ME WANT TO HURL MYSELF OUT A WINDOW (IN A GOOD WAY)?

Will I be giving coherent plot summaries? No. Will I be screaming about the elements I love loud enough to break the sound barrier? YES.

In no particular order:

- Seedlings by twofrontteethstillcrooked

Silverflint modern AU. LISTEN. Not only am I a SLUT for modern aus, but also the TONE? The atmosphere? The growing sense of intimacy? THE FUCKING HUMOUR? Please, the first time I read the sentence about Vane, I laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe. (Everything this author has written for BS is solid gold. The taco salad fic? Impeccable.)

-don’t come closer, don’t let go of me by youatemytailor

Sometimes I like to drown in my silverflint feelings and this still brings tears to my eyes on the reread, so. Angsty post-finale fic.

- Stimulus by astronautsquid

Flinthamilton post-canon HOLY SHIT SHIT SHIT. Okay, like? Sometimes you are in the mood for two middle-aged men who have Been Through It slowly reconnecting with each other and also with their bodies, and sometimes you find the most breathtaking fic detailing this and sometimes after you read it your chest aches and you need to lie on the floor and cry for a bit. Ya know? (The erectile dysfunction fic you never knew you needed.)

- choose for my triumph an easier end by whimsicalimages

OT4! OT4! Silvermadiflinthamilton + kidfic! I am 10000% here for exasperated uncle James, inquisitive children, and everyone dunking on John Silver. A+ fluff and love.

- The Cup of Their Deserving (the wages of their virtue) by DreamingPagan

OKAY O K A Y O K AAAA YYYY . This fic? How do I even begin. It literally redefined how I see canon. The BEST Madi pov I’ve read in all 226 pages on the archive (seriously, just. I can’t get over it, I was hooked on her by the end of the first paragraph, her anger, her compassion, all of it). Seeing James and Thomas reunited and healing together was a gd balm for my soul (do you want to cry about Thomas Hamilton? Please read this fic. Read the part about the clothes.) I was angry over Silver’s actions in the finale, and reading this fic was so fuckin cathartic after that. Whew. I can’t recommend this one highly enough. (ALSO do yourselves a favour and check out Reclamation for ANOTHER EPIC TAKE on things post-canon and ridiculously cute rarepair Vane/Madi which actually works???)

- in, out by woodlands but actually just do yourself a favour and read everything @halewoods has written

I don’t even normally bookmark angst but I sure do when it knocks my socks off like this!! Please read to have your heart break even more for James Flint than you previously thought possible, and also for absolutely captivating writing.

- the ENTIRETY of please do not let me go by natlet

Silverflint. This WHOLE SERIES is my FAVOURITE THING IN THE ENTIRE FANDOM. It's like someone reached into my brain, saw all of my buttons and pressed every single one of them at once. Epic tenderness, newfound emotional awakenings, soft SOFT feelings, desperately hot sex, not a single chapter without some kind of hurt/comfort, MULTIPLE counts of James Flint receiving said comfort, heartbreakingly gentle caretaking, and all of this with the best narrative voice for Silver that I've yet seen, and the most fucking insightful look at Silver and Flint's relationship that I have yet come across. CANNOT recommend this highly enough, especially if you, like me, have a serious case of “wanting James Flint to be loved”-itis.

- James Flint Appreciation Week by fandomfan

Silverflint, does what it says on the tin and does it DELICIOUSLY. James Flint gets the love and appreciation he deserves! There’s a line in here that absolutely undid me. The James Dates series is also well worth a read!

There’s more, there’s TONS more, but these are the ones I have bookmarked and readily available. I’m sure none of these are new to anyone, anyway, since they’re all near the top results if you filter by bookmarks, but! Just in case.

#black sails #bs bs #best of bs #black sails fic #Anonymous

15 notes · View notes

knives-out20 · 3 years

Text

Magnetic Push - Erik Lehnsherr x Male!OC - Part 2

Fandom: X-Men: Days Of Future Past (2014)

Pairing: Karmel Rosenstein (OC) x Erik Lehnsherr

Warnings: Swearing, SELF HARM, Gay, Spoilers for X-Men: Days Of Future Past, Magnetic Pull spoilers,

Notes: Welcome to Part 2! Do NOT keep reading if you have NOT finished Magnetic Pull! The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999) reference ahead. During their 10 years (or so) in the Pentagon cell, Karmel’s had the (possible mis)fortune of growing his hair out. This is what it looks like, for future reference:

Karmel rolled over on the mat he had to call a bed, laying on his side to face Erik- on his own mat- across the prison cell. "How long do you think we've fuckin' been here for?"

Erik was sat in some meditating position, and opened his eyes after Karmel spoke. "Who knows, honestly. They don't bother giving us the date, and there's no way to tell when the sun goes down or comes up. We could've been in here for days, by now. Months, even...Years."

Karmel closed his eyes, laying on his stomach now. "Probable-years in these tacky-ass uniforms in some underground cell that makes my goddamn eyes hurt" he groaned softly, sitting up. "At least they had the courtesy of putting us together, right? I'd rather a cell with you than a cell by myself, for this long. It'd be like growing up, alone, without my parents all over again" he explained, dragging out the 'all'.

"How so?"

"I'd be sad...'n' scared. Alone, obviously. With just my thoughts and my powers. All this at once has never landed me in the best head space in the past, Erik" Karmel grumbled. He hugged himself tightly. "That's kinda why I'm glad we're fucking around in here together."

Erik relaxed himself from his upright meditation position. He dropped his hands, and breathed a smile to life across his lips. "I'm flattered.” Erik responded, eyes lingering over the bandages wrapped around Karmel’s wrists and arms from under the sleeves of his top.

He wasn’t blind to the fact that Karmel would be alone with his thoughts and powers (said powers being able to summon sharp thorns on vines) when Erik would be fast asleep. Erik assumes Karmel’s only thankful that Erik was able to be awake most of the time.

"Why are we even here, anyway? Just to fucking suffer?" Karmel asked. "We try to stop the assassination of the President, and this is the thanks we get?" He huffed, running his fingers through his long hair. His hair had grown over the years Erik and him were in prison for; it had gotten much longer, and Karmel couldn’t do anything about it, or with it.

At least Erik liked it.

"That's not how they see it, Karmel" Erik reminded.

“Yea, I know" Karmel nodded. "Think we'll get out one day?"

Erik pursed his lips in thought.

"There's so much I gotta do- you can't expect me to leave Grimm with my mansion for our entire lives."

"Grimm-?" Erik furrowed his eyebrows. "What is Grimm doing with your mansion?"

Karmel groaned, standing up and stretching. "Me and Grimm made a deal ages ago, to watch over each others' houses if one of us got taken away, or- or locked up. Here I am, locked up, so Grimm and his ghosts have been tending to my house for...well, however long we've been here- which I don't fucking know!" He yelled the last bit, eyes darting around the cell.

"There's no cameras in here, remember, Karmel?" Erik shook his head.

"Oh, I know. If there was, they'd have told us to stop doing what we were doing, like...I wanna say yesterday?" Karmel grinned, flipping his hair over his shoulder.

Erik rolled his eyes as he stood up. Being that there were no cameras, he remembers Karmel not getting bandages around those arms of his until some guard came to bring down their food. Erik remembers Karmel sobbing in his arms, Erik himself stuttering out “Karmel...Karmel, you’re- you’re crushing me” because nothing weighed down on Erik more than Karmel crying, and hurting himself.

Karmel's grin dropped. He walked over to Erik, and poked his cheek. "We'll get out one day, y'know that, right?" Karmel spoke. He placed one hand on Erik’s shoulder, the other on the back of his neck.

Erik complied by putting one hand on Karmel’s hip, the other on the small of his back. Smoothly, the two began to slow-dance around the room, no music needed.

"I don't know when, how, or by what, but...we'll get out" Karmel assured, cupping Erik's cheek.

Erik looked Karmel in the eyes, unresponsive as they swayed. He held Karmel closer. ”We’ve been quite productive in here, though, haven’t we? I was able to teach you how to dance like this even better than you could before. I also taught you German- say something in German, Karmel.”

Karmel’s eyes looked to the side in thought. ”Ich verehre dich” he said, roughly translating to ‘I worship you.’

Erik scoffed. ”Is that all you remember?” He looked at Karmel with such raw, unadulterated love that the energy in itself could smash the windows above their heads. In a way where if they were dancing around other people instead of by themselves right now, Erik’s eyes would see only Karmel. ”I don’t want worship. I want understanding” Erik reminded, knowing he got both for the price of one, all in Karmel.

Karmel smiled sheepishly, shrugging. ”Sorta” he nodded, leaning so far back that his hair almost touched the floor.

Erik put his fingers on Karmel’s neck, lightly dragging them down the middle of his body and stopping at Karmel’s waist before pulling his partner back up. He chuckled.

After a bit more dancing, Karmel pulled away and sat down- Erik followed along, sitting down on his mat. ”To be understood is possibly the greatest fucking form of intimacy, y’know? My dad used to tell me that- without the ‘fucking’, though.”

“’Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood’’“ Erik quoted.

Karmel raised his eyebrows. ”You fuck with Orwell?”

“Sometimes.”

Karmel licked his lips, instantly falling back to lie on the floor. He stared straight up, through the windows on the ceiling. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"That I can't get us out of here myself. My vines, they're- they're not strong enough, to break that fuckin' glass" Karmel pointed up at the glass he was talking about. "Something in that glass or around this room is weakening my powers, I swear."

"Karmel..." Erik started, his lover sparing him a glance. "It's not your fault that we're still in here" he said, lying down beside Karmel. "And we're gonna get out one day, I can believe that" Erik offered Karmel a comforting smile.

Karmel nodded, sitting up; Erik mirrored his actions. He tugged his collar. "Fuck knows how long we've been here for, and I'm still not used to not wearing my Dad's ties...or my Uncle's belt...your bracelet..." Karmel listed, fingers tracing down his neck, then patting his hip and finally grabbing his empty wrist. "I feel naked."

Erik snickered, turning away.

"Incredibly fucking seen" Karmel scoffed. ”And my hair’s long as hell, it’s ugly.”

Erik locked eyes with Karmel, a soft look dominating his face. He cupped Karmel's cheek, the blond desperately leaning into the touch. ”I think your hair looks quite beautiful.”

Karmel glanced down at Erik's lips. He remembers how, a long time ago, he would beat himself up for even looking at Erik himself. But that was when Karmel was in a darker place. He's still there, but Erik's a light in it, now. Before Karmel knew it, he was leaning in.

And Erik was, too.

Karmel pressed his forehead against Erik's, corner of his lip twitching up into a half-smile. Touching foreheads was a constant form of physical affection between the two, it had all started on the beach in Cuba in '62. His hand slid around Erik's neck, giving him a constant reminder that even with everything he had lost, he had Erik.

Erik pulled him closer, knowing Karmel’s body like it was his own. One hand rubbing Karmel's thigh, he used his other hand on Karmel's shoulder to push him down. Successfully pinning Karmel to the floor, Erik loomed over him.

Once Karmel leaned his head back on the floor, Erik leaned up to straddle him. He looked up at Erik, in silent awe.

Erik chuckled. "What?" He used his pointer finger to brush strands of Karmel’s hair out from his face.

"You're always...so perfect, Erik" Karmel confessed. "I can't fuckin' get enough of you. I told you from around the moment I met you, there’s so much more to you, Erik. There’s good. Compared to the last time I told you this-” his mind flashed back to that time, just outside the X-Mansion, all those years ago.

Karmel hummed. ”A flower from my own vines, Erik. That’s super fucking personal” he said, reaching up to tuck it behind Erik’s ear.

Erik exhaled through his nose, glancing up at it. ”How do I look?”

”Breathtaking, man” Karmel giggled, definitely in love at this point. Not even that ‘in love’ love with Erik’s body; Karmel was in love with Erik as a person, the whole idea of him sparked joy. At first he thought it was merely physical. But the more time they spent around each other, the deeper it grew. Now Karmel just wishes he could act on his feelings.

Erik glanced down, stricken by a sense of shyness.

“See, Erik-” Karmel started, pointing at the bracelet. ”There’s so much more to you than you know, Erik. Not just pain and anger, like me. There’s good in you, Erik, I can feel it. I know it. I’ve fucking seen it, now.”

Erik looked up at him, surprised at what was said. Did Karmel really think that of him?

The two held eye contact again, standing in comfortable silence.

Karmel was the first to break his gaze, quick to sneak a glance at Erik's lips beforehand.

“-I’ve definitely felt it, now. I definitely know it, now. And I’ve definitely seen it, now” Karmel concluded.

“Well, that’s because time has passed. You’re way more to me than you were back then” Erik brought up. He slowly licked his lips in thought. ”Actually...” Erik shook is head. ”You were more than just a friend.”

Erik’s always had a clear idea of what the line between friendship, and something more than friendship (like romance) was, and Karmel did, too. But back then, with each other, it became blurred. They called each other their friends, Karmel stood hard on them being strictly platonic (due to now-obvious personal reasons), but with or without the crushing-on-each-other, it’s obvious something was there between them. A connection, a magnetic pull of some sort. Some could say that Erik and Karmel were each others’ twin flames, even.

But there was no denying that from the night Erik let Karmel convince him to stay, something’s been there that made them more than friends.

Karmel looked up at him silently, knowing that ‘something’ has obviously grown since then. “We just couldn’t realize it yet” he breathed, eyebrows raised.

Erik climbed off of Karmel, sitting back down on his mat. He smiled, resting his head in his hand, which he then yawned into.

Karmel stood up. "What?" He shrugged, "is my love getting tiresome?" Karmel teased, winking playfully over at him. ”Can’t blame ya- I’m like...four days past my bedtime.”

Erik exhaled through his nose. "No, I'm just a bit tired. Which is surprising- we haven't exactly been doing much to wear us out" he explained, lying down.

"Except for-"

"Karmel," Erik smirked. "Please."

Karmel waved his hand, "you're no fun. Rest, then. I'll be here...as if there's anywhere else for me to go" he chuckled.

Erik nodded. He hummed in thought, using a finger to beckon Karmel closer.

Karmel tilted his head, "what?"

"Put your head on my lap."

Karmel giggled, doing as told.

Erik practically beamed, running his fingers into Karmel's hair. He draped his other hand across his stomach, lightly scratching Karmel's head.

6 notes · View notes