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insfiringyou · 4 years

Text

BTS - They orgasm unexpectedly (all members)

Contains: Smut. Oral sex. Masturbation. Anal sex. Handcuffs. Strip tease. Dirty talk. Lots of mess.

*Trigger warning for mature themes and slightly dubious consensual scenario taking place between a long-term couple *

[This scenario was inspired by the anon prompt of the members cumming without warning and feeling guilty about it afterwards.]

Although these scenarios can be enjoyed by themselves, we imagine them as taking place with their headcanon girlfriends, with them all being the next scenario after the events of ‘The Reunion’ for each couple.

You can find out more about our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline here and more about our headcanon girlfriends here.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook & our full masterlist can be found here

Rated content below the cut

V (& Cassandra)

The door slammed loudly as he entered the hotel room, ears ringing as he slotted the safety lock through its frame and made a beeline for the double bed. He had known asking Ji-eun for details had been a mistake, but had pressed on anyway, unable to shake the feeling that she knew something he didn’t. He turned sharply, clutching bunches of his own dark hair as his eyes roamed around the small space, hovering momentarily on the sparsely stocked mini bar, before deciding against it. The older woman had smelled of alcohol as they met on the porch, her eyes a little glassy as he begged her to tell him what she knew. His cheeks felt hot now, remembering that detail; how pathetic he must have sounded. Cassandra hadn’t been replying to his letters, he explained, not knowing whether the hurt in his voice was reaching the other woman’s ears through her tipsy haze, or if she even cared. He had texted her when he arrived at the hotel, he continued, and when she didn’t answer he tried calling her. The number was out of service.

Sourly, he recalled going to Cassandra’s studio apartment shortly before the dinner and knocking impatiently on the door. Hearing no answer, he enquired with the neighbour from the room below who informed him that he hadn’t seen her for several weeks. A few hours later, Ji-eun’s slurred protest made his chest ache.

Flopping heavily on to the bed, Taehyung brought out his cell phone from his trouser pocket, and inputted his password as the conversation swam through his mind.

“What did she make you promise?” He had asked, vaguely aware that people were moving around in the corridor behind him, probably on their way to the bathroom, but uncaring about being overheard. He had to know. “Please Ji-eun…” His voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.

The woman seemed to ignore his question as she tugged on the hem of her skirt, subconsciously covering the smooth line of skin which was visible between the seams of her long dress. “Don’t think she want to…” She frowned, trying to find the right way of putting it. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

His mouth opened, a little winded. “But, Ji-eun…”

“You’d be better off if you found someone else.” A touch of sympathy crept into her voice but, in that moment, it sounded more like pity. “Like she has…”

It felt as though he had been stabbed. Back in the hotel room, Taehyung found himself clicking on the photo album icon on his home screen, scrolling past the photos he had taken on his last night with Jungkook, before he had entered service, before finding what he was looking for.

“She’s seeing someone?” He had barely heard the words leave his mouth and, now, he felt the sting of Ji-eun’s reply echo through his mind all over again as he slid his hand beneath the waistband of his open trousers, clutching himself tightly. He selected a black and white photo he had stored on the memory card and tightened his grasp at the sight on screen. Cassandra gazed up at the lens from the covers of the bed, the vivid colour of her hair obscured by the filter as she smiled breathlessly. It had been taken perhaps a year ago, moments after orgasm; the darker patches on her cheeks still visible. His eyes roamed to her breasts, bare and full, lingering on the erect buds of her nipples.

“I don’t know…” The sound of Ji-eun’s voice cut through his sweet memory, tainting it bitterly. “She mentioned on the phone, I’m not sure…”

He flicked his thumb across the screen, moving to the next picture as he untucked his cock from the front of his underwear. The picture was taken from behind, though the stark filter remained; the base of his erection just visible between her fleshy arse-cheeks as he slammed into her folds. She loved it when he took photos of them during sex; knowing he would look at them later when they were apart and recall, in perfect detail, how her body felt as he touched and loved her. The following image had him in her mouth, her gaze fixed on the camera as she sucked his thickness.

“You’re broken up...why do you care?” Ji-eun’s final line came to him as his brow furrowed, motion frantic as he pumped his cock. She had said it softly, but it hurt nonetheless. Without saying goodbye to the others, he had taken to the street, his legs carrying him back to the hotel in a jealous swarm of anger. He wondered if Ji-eun would reveal the conversation to the others; would explain why he had left the reunion dinner so suddenly, and realised he didn’t care. They must have known how much she meant to him; how much she still means to him.

With a regretful sigh, he squeezed himself one final time, casting a guilty glance at the screen of his phone when he realised it had taken the brunt of his moody pleasure. The image of Cassandra was obscured behind the creamy liquid, and he groaned at the sight, not recalling whether the aim had been deliberate.

He put it down on the bedstand and he got to his feet, stripping slowly in the quiet room which suddenly felt eerie. He realised, as he stood naked in the middle of the floor, that he honestly didn’t know what he was supposed to do next.

Jungkook (& Young-soon)

The sheer curtains seemed to float on the gust of wind which filtered into the bedroom; the ocean air making Young-soon’s naked skin prickle with goosebumps as she detected the scent of salt and, in the distance, the calming lull of the sea.

Jungkook ran his hands along the gentle curves of her hips as he felt his orgasm approach, appreciating the silhouette of her body from his vantage point above her. Perhaps she had been right when she lamented of putting on weight since moving out of the capital. But he wouldn’t have noticed had she not brought it up, and either way, the slightly exaggerated shape of her peachy bottom and the slight quivers it made as he thrust into her was undeniably sexy. If she wanted to take up her twice-weekly pilates classes again, he wouldn’t stop her, but until then, he wasn’t going to complain.

“I’m so close…” He whined, gritting his teeth as she silently clenched around him, squeezing his cock between her walls and encouraging him to finish. He was unable to take his eyes off her; moving from the outline of her shoulder blades, along her spine until they focussed once more on her backside. The pleasure came to an acute edge as his entire body grew warm and, suddenly realising if he didn’t do it now it would be too late, he tugged himself from her warmth, the lubrication of her tight cunt allowing for an easy release before he pressed his erection upwards, holding himself tightly at the base as he slipped the head of his cock into her other opening.

“Is this okay?” He groaned, a little belatedly as he felt himself spurt.

“Yeah…” She gasped, moaning at the sensation as he came inside her, the shallowness of his depth causing his seed to drip around the edges of his engorged and sensitive tip.

His orgasm was intense, but over too soon and he took a moment longer to appreciate the feeling of her wrapped around him, groaning once more in pleasure when he noticed how sexy she looked with his seed dripping out of her.

“God...your arse feels so good…” He whispered, closing his eyes as he slowly became soft in his hand and reluctantly pulled away.

She turned around, flopping onto the thick duvet and enjoying the way Jungkook’s gaze moved immediately to her breasts as they quivered against her chest. “Why did you switch?” She asked with a smile, parting her thighs and reaching between them.

“I’m sorry…” He murmured with a blush, realising how the idea had only come to him seconds before, and how he had been unable to control his impulse.

“About what?”

His cheeks turned a shade darker and she laughed gently.

“I like it too you know…” Slowly, she brushed her fingers against her opening, watching Jungkook’s eyes follow her as she collected the pearly liquid with her fingertips, trying to prevent his semen from staining the material as it continued to leak from between her legs.

“I should have warned you better..” He admitted, shaking his head slowly.

Shrugging, she sat up against the quilt. “I feel a bit sore.” She murmured softly. “It’s just been a while…” Her eyes flickered to the cabinet in the corner of the room. “Can you grab me a tissue?”

Jin (& Min-seo)

“Are you sure you feel okay now?” Jin voiced his concern as Min-seo slipped him from his shorts, nestling closer between his parted thighs as he sat back on the sofa.

“Fine.” She smiled reassuringly, moving her hand softly against him. “I told you, it was just for a moment. Certain food still makes me a bit nauseous.”

His brow remained furrowed for a moment but soon smoothed out when he felt her lips close around him. “You really don’t have to…” He protested gently, already knowing his point was lost when she sank down further, taking him completely into her mouth before moving back; his cock slick and upright when she broke free.

“Are you kidding?” She smiled, the tinkling sound of her breathy laughter filling the room. “I love doing this to you…” Confirming this, she took him back in; her hand wrapped around him as her head bobbed up and down his cock, controlling the depth carefully by moving her closed fist against her lips. His head eventually lulled back, eyes closing as he lost himself in the sensation, unaware how much or little time was passing until he began to notice the fragrant scent of cooking filling the air from the adjoining kitchen.

As if reading his thoughts, Min-seo moved back and let him go with a soft pop. “Jeong-sun and Yoongi will be around soon.” She murmured, lips pressed gently against the tip of his swollen cock as she spoke, pumping him slowly. “I’d better check on the oven.”

Before she could pull away, Jin let out an unexpected groan as he felt himself let go; his orgasm taking him completely by surprise and giving him no time to warn her. It took her a moment to realise he was ejaculating; the white liquid dribbling half-heartedly down his cock and staining the front of her t-shirt as he let out a startled and gaspy laugh. With an amused and equally shocked smile, she continued her motion against him, milking the last of his seed from the tip of his penis and ignoring the mess he was making against the exposed upper half of her chest.

When she was certain he had expelled all that he had to give, she pulled away slowly, uncurling her fingers from around his thickness as he calmed down.

“Was it me or the chicken that set you off?” She asked with a timid smile.

As if on cue, the beeping sound of the timer on the oven began to ring, making them both laugh uncontrollably.

“Both.” He grinned, cheeks stained pink.

Jimin (& Ara)

She wrapped her fingers lovingly around the head of his cock and gave it a playful squeeze, her eyes roaming to the pair of fluffy handcuffs which were currently keeping him fixed in position against the foot of the bed. Jimin moaned, his eyes fluttering closed and lips parted. If his hands had been free, Ara knew, he would have used them to brush what remained of his hair back from his forehead.

“Do you want me to dance for you?” She whispered, kissing his mouth gently as his eyes opened. He whined at the loss of contact as she silently walked to the edge of the bedroom, turning to face him and resting her hands between her breasts, where the silver flash of a zipper caught his eye.

“Is that the costume you will be wearing on KBS tomorrow?” He asked breathlessly. It was a short, PVC number; with pink and purple hearts adorning the pleated skirt. The smallest hint of cleavage was visible above the V-cut neckline as she pulled the fastening down a fraction of an inch.

“Yes…” She murmured. “We all have matching outfits.” Slowly, she pulled the zipper down the rest of the way, uncovering the strip of skin which ran down to her bellybutton as she swayed her hips gently. “Do you want to touch me?” Her voice uttered breathily as she smiled teasingly, her index finger pulling aside the shiny fabric to reveal a small, pink nipple.

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp as she observed his silent reply; his cock twitched deliciously against his stomach as he grew hard, his eyes never leaving her body as she edged aside the other seam, pressing the round swells of her breasts together as she clasped her hands together in front of her, her nipples hard and pretty. “Well, you can’t.” She grinned teasingly, taking a step closer to prove her point.

“You’re so mean Ara.” Jimin groaned, his cock now fully erect as he watched her dance for him, slowly pulling up her short, pleated skirt until he could see she was completely naked beneath; the small, neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair visible between her slender thighs. Turning around, she ran her hands over the soft, round cheeks of her bare bottom, teasing them apart until he could see her pink slit between.

“What do you want to touch?” She moaned, the grin in her voice obvious.

He licked his lips, suddenly wishing for a glass of water. They felt chapped beneath his tongue. “Your pussy…” He uttered breathlessly, watching in awe as she bent further over, arching her back and slipping a single digit between her thighs.

“This?” She sank it in to the knuckle, slicking the finger before pulling out. He watched as she turned around to face him and sat down on the carpeted floor. His cock rock hard at the unbelievable sight he was witnessing, he was unable to help the sounds which escaped his mouth as she spread her legs, her feet flat against the floor as she played with her clitoris, brushing it between two fingers and circling it slowly. She watched his erection grow; his tip flushed and rosy as she moved to her cunt, pushing in two fingers and hooking them against her sensitive G-spot as she fingered herself.

“God, Ara…” Jimin whispered as she added a third to join the others, pushing them inside her tight, pink opening with a whine. “I’m gonna…” Before the words had left his lips, he spurted onto his lower stomach, his testacles contracting on their own accord at the sight of his girlfriend on the floor, her fingers deep in pussy. Ara watched in fascination as he climaxed, once again knowing that he wished he could run his hands along his forehead, more out of habit than anything else. Instead, they remained bound above his head, the slight outline of his biceps incredibly sexy as his fists opened and closed in frustration; ejaculate trailing along the wispy hairs bellow his bellybutton and collecting in his dark pubic hair.

Getting to her feet, she moved over to him and captured his soft lips between hers. “That’s my baby…” She whispered against his mouth, moving slowly to the tip of his softening cock which she kissed gently. He looked down at her with dark, blissful eyes; his cheeks and forehead shimmering with cold sweat. “Do you want to stay tied up?” She asked, flashing him a grin.

Exhausted, he remained silent as she stood up, hitching her skirt to her waist as she stood above him; her pretty pussy directly in his eyeline as she moved closer and pressed against him. With a soft moan, he opened his mouth against her pubis, capturing her clitoris in a kiss.

J-Hope (& Nana)

He could tell how much she had missed him from the way her lips met his as soon as she walked through the front door; the sound of her clunky satchel hitting the floor filling the hallway as they pressed together, mouths opening frantically as they attempted to find a comfortable pace. He wondered, as they stumbled into the living room, desperately pushing aside the wooden frame of a chair to reach the table, if the novelty of having him back would wear off soon; if they would ever get used to seeing each other’s face when they returned home from their day at work, whether their matching smiles would ever fade.

His long fingers found the edge of her white blouse, clutching at the soft fabric as he blindly searched for the buttons. They briefly broke apart and she let out a gasp as he quickly uncovered her up to the waist, too inpatient to unclasp the last few buttons and instead running his hands above the trim of her plain bra, his palms skimming the outlines of her collarbones and sternum before tugging the cups down to rest beneath her the gentle swell of her breasts.

“Hoseok…” She cried, unable to help her moans as he ran his parted lips along her exposed skin, his mouth seemingly unable to focus on one place for too long, but making a point of kissing her breasts sweetly.

“Your body is so amazing…” He whined against her, flicking his tongue against her nipple before gently turning her by the waist, encouraging her to bend down against the kitchen table. He hitched up her long, floaty skirt, the excess fabric bunching against her lower back as he untucked himself from the confines of his trousers with a small whimper. He had been feeling uncomfortable for the past few minutes and the cool air which hit him as he freed himself came as a relief. Moving aside the pink crotch of her panties, he slipped into her with ease, his entire cock becoming sheathed by her warmth as she moved her hips back to meet his; their bodies coming together loudly as they set a vigorous pace.

Their moans became less pronounced as he fucked her hard, his hands moving from her narrow hips, around the edges of her blouse and to her breasts which he cupped firmly as they struggled to catch their breath, equally lost in the sensation of each other.

“Feel...so...good…” He managed to gasp between shallow intakes of air, sensing that he was getting close, but unable to completely tell as the sensations and animalistic sounds they were making blended together like music.

Too late, he realised, he had slipped out of her, his upright cock brushing the soft warmth of her panties as he ejaculated with a loud groan. Without thinking, he grasped the bunched material of her skirt between his hands as his seed began to spurt on the smooth skin of her lower back, the pleated fabric catching his cum before it had time to drip down her thighs and make a mess on the floor.

‘Oh shit…” He cried, cheeks staining red as his cock twitched against the make-shift canopy, realising what he had done. Finally catching her breath, she paused against him, belatedly realising he was no longer inside her.

“Oh god…” He whispered, clutching her skirt against the bony rump of her backside, unsure of what he should do. “Sorry…”

“What happened?” She asked, the smile in her voice obvious as she tried to look over her shoulder, her tightly permed ringlets bouncing against her open blouse.

His gaze lingered on the mess he had made and his eyebrows furrowed into his forehead as he winced. “Did you bring a change of clothes?”

“I always do…” She laughed softly. “Why? Did you cum?” She asked bemusedly, slowly straighetning up as she edged her way off the table.

“Yes…” He straightened out the skirt at the feel of her movement, unable to tear his eyes away from the cloth. “It sort of went on your skirt.” He admitted quietly.

“What?” Reaching behind her, she took the edge of the fabric from him and tried to peer over her shoulder at the damage, pulling away when she realised she had gotten some of it on the back of her hand. Hoseok watched on with embarrassment as she promptly dropped the material and wiped it on the waistband.

“You didn’t think to use your own clothes?” She asked, slightly unimpressed but with an ounce of humour beneath the surface.

“I wasn’t thinking…” He cringed apologetically.

Suga (& Jeong-sun)

Jeong-sun’s eyes lingered on the red paperback in Yoongi’s hand as she closed the bedroom door behind her, observing with a smile his square, clear-framed glasses and the thick wedge of pages beneath his left hand. The title was instantly recognisable; he had clearly taken it from her bookshelf in the living room.

“Aren’t you just living the life of luxury?” She quipped with a smile, setting down her purse and edging her way to the double bed. He was propped against the headboard, using a few extra cushions from the sofa to support his back.

“I put up the curtain rail.” He commented, using his thumb to save his place as he lowered the book to follow her with his eyes as she moved across the room.

“Which one?”

He smirked. “The one that’s been sitting in the living room for the past month.”

“Oh.” Jeong-sun hid her smile as she crawled onto the sheets, not bothering to change out of her uncomfortable work uniform as she flopped onto his lap. He couldn’t help but grin as she nestled her head against his lap, shifting on her side to get comfy. She noticed from the moment she stepped through the door that the apartment had been tidied a little; the washing up she had left in the sink dried and put away, and her kitchen floor mopped and polished.

“It’ll stop the neighbours from looking in.” Yoongi muttered, carefully putting the book down on her bedside table, leaving it open so he could come back to it later.

“There’s not much to look at…” She shrugged, playing with a loose strand of cotton on his loose-fitting joggers.

“I disagree.” He replied, voice full of coquetry as he looked at her, the ceiling lights reflecting in her glasses. “How was work?”

“Worky.” She murmured unconvincingly with a small sigh. “Do you want me to see if there are any jobs going?” Her grin made his stomach grow warm as he realised she was teasing him once again for the amount of spare time he suddenly seemed to have on his hands.

“I’d get on your nerves.” He replied, stroking a stand of dark hair which had fallen against the frames of her glasses.

She laughed softly, body softening against him as he ran his hand along her arm gently. “I’m glad you are finally getting time off. You deserve it.” She admitted, squeezing his hand lovingly. “Where are you up to, in your book?”

He thought for a moment, eyes narrowing behind his lenses. “She’s just blown up the gas station.”

Jeong-sun smirked. “A bit of an overreaction if you ask me...all over some pig blood.”

His thumb brushed her shoulder, holding her close. “I don’t think I’d be happy if it happened to me.” He protested gently, letting out a small, breathy laugh.

“I guess not.” She murmured in reply.

“I felt bad for her.” He shrugged.

“That’s because you’re a good person.”

He mumbled, growing quiet as she slipped her hand across his thigh, stroking it through the fabric comfortingly before moving to the space between his legs. He grinned, gums flashing. “Am I boring you?”

She met his gaze. “A little bit.” She teased, moving more purposefully against the bulge, before slowly edging down the elastic of his joggers. He moved his hips from the bed, allowing her to work on his underwear as she slipped out his cock idly, grasping it at the base. He wasn’t hard, but she didn’t seem to mind as she moved it towards her lips. “Should I?” She asked, pausing.

He felt a little breathless as he looked down at her, her face inches from his groin as she settled in his lap. “If you want to.”

Instead of taking it in, she shuffled closer so it lay across her mouth, opening her lips against its length, and moving her tongue slowly against his skin. He let out a quiet moan as she cupped the tip in her palm, pumping the head ever so slightly and touching her lips to the base, sucking it lightly. Taking her time, she ran her fingers along him, following the trail with her wet, warm tongue as he quickly swelled in her hand. He tilted his head to look at her languidly.

“You look nice today…” He whispered honestly, mouth parting in a silent moan at the feel of her lips momentarily closing around his sack, touching her tongue to the textured skin, before pulling away.

“Thanks. I ironed my shirt.”

He laughed softly as she sucked his cock gently, pushing it between her lips and allowing her saliva to pool a little, slickening him before she continued to lick along his shaft, moving her mouth from side to side.

“Where feels best?” She eventually asked, curling her fist around the centre of his erection.

He let out a breathy exhalation, loving her so completely in that moment he thought his chest might burst. “I’ll let you know.”

She extended her tongue, touching it to his frenulum. “On a scale of one to ten?” She asked jokingly.

His gummy grin remained, realising she was serious. “Eight.” He answered honestly.

She smirked and trailed her tongue down, holding his cock against her lips. “And here?” She challenged him.

He laughed. “Still an eight.” Stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers, he gazed at her lovingly. “It’s nice though…”

She raised an eyebrow flirtily. “You’re hard to please.” She joked, brown eyes swimming with mirth beneath the flash of her glasses.

Still grinning, he took himself from her, gently holding his cock between his fingertips as he adjusted his position slightly and brushed his spare hand against her lips, stroking them with the pads of his fingers. He fancied he could feel the gentle beat of her pulse beneath the plump skin, and he lowered himself against her parted mouth. “Try this part.” He suggested in a low voice. “Lightly...try to flick your tongue…”

She complied, moving her muscle rapidly against his shaft and enjoying the soft groan which escaped his parted lips as he briefly closed his eyes. Opening them again, he watched her carefully. “You’re beautiful…”

Closing him in her fist, she smirked. “And I haven’t even taken my glasses off yet…” She scoffed.

“Do you want to?” He asked breathlessly, curling his fingertips gently in the thick mat of her dark hair, brushing against her scalp.

She shook her head, observing how wet his cock was in her hand; how it glistened with her saliva as she slickened it liberally; how she could appreciate the clear pools of precum up close which beaded attractively on the end of his swollen and rosy tip. “I want to see what I’m doing.” She admitted, kissing the head sweetly to prove her point. “You know I can’t see for shit without them…”

His stomach fluttered as she moved against him gently, lazily, in no rush to move on. Reaching with his spare hand, he nimbly moved to her buttons, unfastening the tight, work-issued blouse which stretched across her bust until he uncovered the soft skin of her stomach; the flash of her belly button just visible beneath the fabric. Slowly, he edged it away from her covered breasts, his eyes roaming from her face and lips to the magenta lace of her bra and deep swell of her cleavage.

“Better?” She smirked against him, half-expecting him to touch her and realising, when he sat back, he was content just to look.

“Your tits look great.” He agreed, voice low and breathy. “New bra?” He asked.

“I feel like they’re being crushed. I’ll probably try to return it.”

“The colour looks good on you.” He commented. The fit was clearly designed to be a push-up, and it accentuated her already large breasts, flattering their shape.

She laughed softly. “Then maybe I’ll keep hold of it…”

“Please do.” He agreed softly, his voice becoming breathless. “Or find something more comfortable...but the same colour.”

“You like it?”

“It’s different…” He shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d pick something like this.”

“A change is as good as any…” She mumbled indifferently.

Leaning down, he kissed her forehead gently. “Not always…” He whispered, hoping she knew what he meant. When he pulled away, her mouth returned to his tip, sucking on the edge gently while her hand curled around his base. Without warning, he felt himself let go, his orgasm coming in sharp and taking them both by surprise as he ejaculated a thin, long stream against her face, his groan brief and low, reverberating in his throat. There was a moment of silence as she blinked beneath her glasses, the frames obscured by the substance which covered them.

“Well at least you didn’t get it in my eye…” She said, expression unreadable.

A timid grin crept onto his face as he reached forward guiltily. “I’m sorry…” He took off her glasses and slowly placed them on the bedstand, beside the copy of Carrie, before returning to her. Biting the inside of his cheek at the straight look on her face, he wiped her cheeks with her thumb, brushing his semen from her face and wiping it on the front of his t-shirt.

“If you keep cumming on my face and tits, I’ll never be a mother.” She mumbled drily.

It was too much, and he snapped his head back in laughter as she followed shortly after, chest heaving beneath her push-up bra as she slowly sat up, her back aching a little from staying in the same position for too long. He watched as she got to her knees and gestured to the corner of his mouth with a small smile.

“Oh…” She realised with a blush.

“I really am sorry.” He admitted, shaking his head softly as she wiped the edge of her mouth. He wondered what else he could possibly say, but before he could, she pushed her fingertips between her lips, sucking the ends as she met his gaze cooly.

RM (& Ji-eun)

He had been in a bad mood all evening, but she thought taking a shower together might lighten him up, before his return to the base the next day. The hotel was cosy and intimate, a nice change from the white walls and stark prints of their shared apartment, but his mind had been elsewhere. She knew he had used up all of his vacation days and tried to reassure him that the rest of his time in service would pass quickly; that they would be together again before his birthday in the Autumn.

She had gone commando, but so far, he hadn’t noticed. Slipping off her black dress, she took his hand and stepped into the shower, turning on the stream of water as she got to her knees. In spite of, or perhaps because of his frustration, she found him to be hard when she took him in her warm mouth, moving slowly down his length and cupping his balls gently in her palm. They felt softer than she remembered, and she moved along them slowly, teasing them lightly with the tips of her manicured fingernails as she sucked him; the water from the shower cascading across her spine and over her dark hair which she tied back, using the band around her wrist to keep it from her face.

His sighs were gentle as he closed his eyes against the stream, splashing water across his cheeks and forehead as he tried to enjoy himself, his girlfriend’s mouth as loving as it ever was, and just as talented as she moaned around him, her voice sending gentle vibrations through his body.

She scratched along his thighs, attempting to work him up but being careful not to hurt him as the water continued to flow over their naked bodies, a few stray strands of hair starting to come loose and sticking to her forehead as she continued her motions. Her jaw began to ache and she realised how long this had been going on for. Suddenly, without warning, she felt Namjoon’s hand press against her shoulder, squeezing it to get her attention.

“Stand up…” He murmured. Opening her eyes to look at him, she complied with his request, treading slowly so as not to slip against the porcelain base as she straightened up. She felt his hands on her hips, grasping her firmly and spinning her around to face the wall. Her cheek pressed against the cold tiles and she let out a startled gasp at the unexpected change in temperature as he pushed against her, holding her still. It took her a moment to realise what he was doing and she heard the low, frustrated grunts coming from over her shoulder before she felt his motions against her, his hard cock pressed against her lower back as he jerked himself roughly. Her nipples felt as hard as stones as they connected with the wall, his spare hand keeping her still as he finished, quickly, against the round flesh of her arse, with a groan. His seed was warm as it trickled down her thigh, and he promptly let go of her, his breath ragged and uneasy as he came slowly down from his high.

“I’m sorry…” He murmured, voice low as he stepped back.

The lines of her forehead wrinkled in a solemn frown, she turned to face him, reaching behind to wipe herself clean and running her hand under the tap. “I don’t think I liked that…” Her voice came out a little shaky; baffled and a little put out, as she watched him breathe in heavily, his gaze fixed ashamedly on the floor, wondering what had come over him. “You could have just said if it wasn’t working for you.” She continued, brushing the remainder of the tap water from her eyes as she pushed open the shower door.

“I’m sorry…” He repeated quietly.

Steam filled the otherwise bright room, and he followed Ji-eun’s form as she stepped out of the shower and walked, naked, into the adjoining bedroom, searching through her small suitcase for a towel. Turning back to the wall, he switched off the tap and silently waited for his breath to finally slow. As he watched the last of the water drain down the plug; he contemplated what he had done, the look of hurt on his girlfriend’s face and felt like the world’s biggest arsehole.

***

Thank you for reading. To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook

& Our full masterlist can be found here

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darksunrising · 4 years

Text

Sola Gratia (13/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : No particular warning.

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 13/? (3475 words)

Author’s notes : Final episode of Act II ! I’m taking a little break to work on the plotline and real life stuff, but trust that I’ll stay active, and will be back soon with more chapters !

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The Dark Knight came up to me, and Leah gave me a knowing look. The fiend. I stood up, nervously glancing around me, and handed him my handkerchief. He took hold of it, and carried it to his helmet as to kiss it. The crowd cheered loudly. They must have thought it was part of the entertainment. I still felt the heat rise to my cheeks. Gods, maybe it actually was a calculated plot, damn Leah and her scheming. If I trusted the look of the 'Royals', over on the opposite bleachers, not everyone knew... He tied the scarf around the grip of his lance, and I could swear I saw two lights gleam into the darkness of the helmet. I sat back down as he left, feeling dozens of looks on me as I tried to maintain some composure. Act the part. Be a noble lady. Think... Catherine de' Medici. There.

Vlad had his horse come into place with ease, as I barely saw him touch the reins. His adversary, ironically, was wearing red, mounted on a white horse, and looked massive compared to the slender, elegant silhouette of the dark rider at the other end of the jousting lists. I couldn't help but feel worried. He supposedly didn't risk anything, but the lances were wooden, for hell's sake. That's just taunting the Devil. Or God, maybe, in his case. Taking a deep breath, I waited anxiously for the sound of the horn.

The riders spurred their horses. They passed each other, once, twice, and a third time. The Red Knight made a move, and I saw his lance miss Vlad by inches. Not miss, exactly, as I saw him lean slightly to the side. I could picture his smug smile. That poor guy had no idea what was coming. Turning back in a cloud of sand, glimmering in the air, they galloped to meet again. This time, Vlad ran his spear into the Red Knight's pauldron, nearly having him fall off his horse. He caught on at the last moment, and I could swear I heard Vlad laugh.

They waited a second at the end of the lists, the Red Knight making his shoulder roll, brushing off his coach as he apparently came to make sure he was alright. He sent his his horse full speed at the sound of the horn, his best efforts insufficient to avoid him the lance that crashed into his shield, throwing him back into the dust, almost into the stands, which had a few people stand back.

Without a second look for his adversary, Vlad untied the handkerchief from his lance, and raised his arm in the air in celebration, under the loud cheers of the crowd. He jumped down from the horse, giving the steaming beast an affectionate pat on the shoulder. He walked straight towards me, and took off his helmet. The dark waves of his hair cascaded onto his shoulders, prompting a few audible gasps. I could feel my heart close to beating out of my chest. He was a conqueror, a cocky smile on his lips, the sun playing on his hair and the gold on his armor. He discarded his gauntlets and gloves, leaving them behind in the dust, eyes locked on mine. I stood up, almost knocking over my chair, playing into the role I had been given. He dropped his helmet at my feet with a loud clang of metal, and knelt down. He held up the handkerchief, and I laid my hand on his, allowing him to rise. He gently placed the shawl on my shoulders, lingering along my neck, enough that I could feel my veins pulsing against the tip of his fingers. His eyes hadn't left mine since he took off his helmet, and even under the midday heat, I felt goosebumps spread all over my body. He trailed along my arms, and took hold of both my hands, which he kissed, still not breaking his gaze. My chest heaving, I understood a little bit better why ladies tended to faint more often in corset-wearing time periods.

He then stepped back, leaving the jousting area after a last look, a wink, and a hand gesture at a young groom, who rushed to pick up his discarded pieces of armor after him. A bit overwhelmed, I sat back down, as the presenter closed the event over the cheering of the crowd.

“He wanted it to be a surprise”, Leah told me, eyes glimmering.

“Well, it certainly worked.”

She laughed, and dragged me along to the contender's tents. I caught a glimpse of the Red Knight, armor off. His shoulder had a massive purple bruise, and I couldn't help but wince. I sympathetically smiled at him, and he responded with a little wave. A bit further along, in a white and blue tent, the groom was helping Vlad undo the last pieces of armor, and carefully packing them up in a suitcase similar to the ones that had been Leah and I's dresses. He noticed us and flashed us a smile.

“That was great, Vlad !”, Leah exclaimed, coming up to give him a congratulatory slap on the shoulder. “Damn, you didn't even break a sweat, did you ?”

“It takes a lot for that to happen”, he smugly replied, taking off his gambeson.

His shirt was open, and I found myself staring at his chest.

“Is everything alright, Eris, darling ? You seem a bit... hot”, he mocked, slipping on his vest.

“I'm fine”, I replied, looking away from both of them, as Leah seemed to revel in the whole situation.

He buttoned himself up, and I couldn't help but sneak a few peeks.

“Where did you learn to joust anyway, Vlad ?”, Leah asked, understandably curious.

“Well, I enjoy horseback riding, and the Middle Ages, what can I say ?”, he replied as the groom clasped on his livery collar.

The kid looked up to him in awe, which had me a bit suspicious. I narrowed my eyes at Vlad, and stepped closer to him, putting myself so that Leah couldn't see my gestures. I pointed at the boy with a nod, discreetly tapping on my neck. He took an almost wounded expression for a second.

“Eris, I care about my diet, I don't run around taking drinks from stable boys”, he whispered, falsely offended.

I hummed, not entirely convinced, and he draped himself in his cape.

“Aren't you guys hungry ?”, Leah asked, putting down the bracer she was trying on. “I'm starving, and I heard there's a huge buffet in the castle hall !”

“I have to say, I worked up my apetite”, Vlad replied, looking down on me.

I loudly sighed, and took his arm, following Leah outside.

~ ~ ~

The rest of the day was tiring, at least for me, as Vlad obviously didn't ever feel fatigued, and Leah was endlessly fueled by what could only be rainbows and kitten unicorns. Night started falling the sky taking vivid colors as we made our way to the town square, lit by candles and a large bonfire. A band was playing dancing music, and the air was filled with indistinct chattering and laughter. Leah holding onto my arm, Vlad taken in one of his heist stories, my heart felt so full, I was physically unable to stop smiling.

“Oh, I see something that needs my attention”, Leah suddenly exclaimed. “See you later, you two.”

She let go of my arm, freed a few strands of hair to frame her face, and cheerfully strolled to the bar. Her confidence astounded me.

“I like her”, Vlad told me with a little laugh.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Tell me, did you ever get to practice your dancing ?”, he asked, innocently.

“Oh, no.” I tried to get away. “I'm not dancing ! You got me once, but not twice !”

“Oh, I think I am.”

He caught my hand, and brought us close to the fire, indifferent to my protestation. Once arrived, he had me spin around, and brought me back against his chest. Feeling his breath against my neck, I forgot how to speak a second.

“Follow my lead, I promise I will be less... Boorish than last time.”

I groaned, and relaxed in his arms. I had to focus every fiber of my being not to trip on the pavement with my shoes, but Vlad actually supported me so much I felt half my weight was lifted off. I never liked dancing, to be honest. I had a terrible sense of rhythm, and it reminded me awfully of some family gatherings I'd rather forget.

With Vlad, it felt... Different. Not great, mind you, it still was a bit aggravating, but I started to understand why people like it so much. Vlad picked me up like I weighed nothing, and spun me around. I couldn't help but laugh, and he joined me. His eyes were gleaming with the light of the flames. The music faded out to a slower tune. Vlad slowly put me down, keeping a hand on my waist, the other looking for mine. I intertwined my fingers with his, letting him pull me close, trying to breathe away the erratic beating of my heart.

“I can hear that, you know”, he teased.

I pouted at him. “Then close your ears, it's embarrassing.”

“I would rather say endearing.”

I looked up at him. He wanted to look smug, but most of his expression was tender, calm. I could have looked into his eyes for hours, the deep blue, washed over with the bright gold of the fire. Every step, he kept me close, only letting me go to spin me around, slowly, only enough to make the skirt flare. It might have looked beautiful to watch, if we hadn't been the only two people there, dancing around the candles.

“I want you to feel safe, with me.”

His voice was gentle, his gaze, even more so.

“I do”, I told him, moving my hand from his shoulder to cup his face.

He closed his eyes a second, leaning into my palm. I brushed my thumb across his cheekbone. Cold, soft.

“I have come to... care a great deal about you”, he continued.

“I can see that happening, me being a giant, walking Bloody Mary”, I retorted.

“Do you always resort to humor when someone tries to be serious with you ?”

He was smiling.

“I just- I don't know how to respond to that-”

“Then don't.”

He let go of my hand, leaving it placed on his chest, and slid his into my hair.

“You're going to mess up the-”

“I don't care.”

Freeing his arms, he lifted me up. I was so close I couldn't focus on the details of his face. The tip of his nose brushing against mine, his breath, short, trembling. He was waiting, expectantly. Whispered my name. My feet hovering above ground, my heart beating so hard in my chest it was almost painful, I closed my eyes, and- got a phone call.

“It's Leah's ringtone”, I said.

She never called if it wasn't urgent. Vlad put me down, and I glanced around. She was nowhere to be seen, which would explain why she felt the need to call at that exact moment. When I reached my phone through the layers of fabric, it already stopped ringing.

“It's not like her”, I started, starting to get nervous.

“Eris, do not panic”, Vlad told me, his voice somewhat calming my nerves. “She was with someone, wasn't she ?”

I did get a glimpse at her, while we were still dancing. She was at the bar, chatting up a woman in men's period costume.

“Yeah, but not well. She had very long, silver-ish hair, I think. Fair skin.”

If it was possible, Vlad paled, and gripped my shoulders.

“Call her again, now.”

His tone beckoned urgency, and I obeyed immediately. She picked up fast, but her voice didn't greet me.

“She looks so pretty, don't you think ? Better run fast, before it flows out. Garden overlooks, ten minutes.”

The hanging up tone knocked the wind out of my chest, and I almost fell to my knees. Vlad enquired about the call. I didn't even reply, and ran to the bar, asking for a map of the city, almost hysterical. Someone handed me a folded over leaflet. I thanked him, and quickly tried to find my way around the maze of streets. Right, left, left, up stairs, big door, left, and straight across. I tucked the map in the lacing of my dress, and started running, Vlad following without question. I cursed when I almost fell, and slipped off the cursed shoes, running barefoot into the streets. Thankfully, most of the tourists were gone, and no one crossed my way.

“Tell me where to go, I can get there faster”, Vlad told me.

“Garden overlook”, I hissed.

He nodded, and next thing I knew, he vanished. I kept on running, cursing at the corset making my breath short. I don't think I ever climbed stairs that fast in my entire life, and hurried through the huge door, carved into the high walls surrounding the gardens. As I tried to work the handle, to find it locked. Fuck !

Considering the height of the wall, I looked around for another way in. Luckily for me, it wasn't higher than a dozen feet, and I was a decent climber. Hiking up my skirts, I placed a foot on a ledge, and caught on to a space made by a missing brick. As I was almost halfway up, the door creaked on its hinges, and Vlad appeared in the frame.

“What in the name of all things Unholy do you think you are doing ?”, he cursed.

“Finding a solution !”

He urged me to jump down, and I did, leaving him to catch me. Not losing any time, we rushed into the gardens. Left, straight across. I finally found two silhouettes, standing next to the wall, on the overlook. I tried to cry out Leah's name, came out empty. As I arrived, she turned to face me, a look of utter incomprehension on her features. She was fine. Fine ! Panting, I tried to catch my breath. She let go of the other woman's hand, and rushed towards me, putting her hands to the sides of my face.

“Eris, what happened ? What's wrong ?”

What's wrong ? Leah, you- Oh. I can't speak. I tried breathing in, wheezing, and started feeling lightheaded. Vlad's arms wrapped around me, and I noticed I was falling. Going limp, I looked over at Leah. Her lips were moving, yet I couldn't hear her words. I felt a cool hand slip under my bodice, a ripping sound, and air rushed to my lungs. I took a moment to take my breath back, and glanced around. Vlad was holding me, but his look was directed elsewhere. Sitting on the parapet, the woman stared right back. The more I regained consciousness, the more I could make out her features. She was athletic, tall, and had incredibly long, silver hair, gleaming under the moonlight. Her eyes were an icy blue, and her pupils were two tiny specs of light at the center of the iris. A glance, and she terrified me. As I took some of my strength back, I slipped my hand into my skirts, and pulled out my gun. Leah had an exclamation of surprise, and I directed the barrel directly at the woman.

“Oh, Eris”, she laughed. “You must be much more naïve than I thought, to think this would do you any good.”

She hopped off, and started walking toward us.

“And you, too cocky”, I replied, pulling the hammer back, finger on the trigger.

“Carmilla, stop.”

Vlad's voice was much darker than I had ever heard it. I had never heard him angry, and I never really wanted to. The woman, obeyed, standing at a respectable distance from us. I didn't lower my weapon, still leaning against Vlad for support. For once, Leah seemed completely speechless.

“What do you want ?”, he asked, seemingly calm, holding an arm around me.

“What do I want, Drac ?”, she purred, taking a step forward. “Well, for starters, some introductions. If I didn't know you better, I'd almost think you didn't want me meeting your latest pets.”

“Don't”, he snapped at her.

“Fine, your friends, if that's what you call your snacks, these days”, she sighed, shrugging.

“Carmilla, I am giving you one, and only one warning. Leave.”

I felt his hand clench.

“Leave ? I'm not here because I enjoy your company, especially when you're in one of your phases, Drac.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her face taking a deadly serious expression. “I'm here because the Council sends me, because they know I'm the only one who has the slightest chance of making you come to your fucking senses.”

“What I do in my free time is no concern of the Council, which I preside, might I remind you ?”

He spoke through his teeth, seething with anger. His arm coiled tighter around me, almost hurting me.

“That you presided, past tense”, she jabbed. “Since that stupid fucking incident, more than a century ago, you haven't gone to any meeting, any reunion, not even responded to any damn fucking letter ! I had to do your job, while you what ? Sulked and brooded in your castle, and flirted around with mortals ?”

“Do not push me, Carmilla.”

She ran her hands through her hair, grasping at it, and started pacing.

“No, I think I will push you !”, she shouted. “You left us alone, for your own selfish fucking reasons, and the moment you finally decide to get out of your what, ongoing midlife crisis ? You start wreaking havoc, and putting MINA back on our asses, when we spent decades putting them off track !”

“'Wreaking havoc' ? You call going to Renaissance faires 'wreaking havoc' ?”, he snapped with a dry laugh.

“I call butchering mortals by the dozen wreaking havoc !”

She was seething with anger, but her face betrayed a complete, and utter disbelief. She thought it was him too. Vlad seemed to have regained some composure, his grip on me softening as evidence.

“Does everyone here think I am some sort of rabid animal ?”, he asked.

He was met with silence.

“I don't, but again, I don't understand what the fuck is going on”, Leah intervened.

“Well, that's one out of three”, Vlad sneered.

“Are you denying it, Drac ?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I am neither an idiot, nor some kind of un-tamed blood-thirsty beast”, he snapped. “I haven't killed anyone in some time, actually, if that's of any interest to you.”

Carmilla seemed to consider Vlad's response. My hand was shaking from holding the gun so long. She threw her hands up.

“Fine. Let's say I believe you.” She stepped forward, glowering at me when I raised the gun again. “I've seen the pictures, I've been to half the scenes. No mortal was behind those murders.”

She suddenly looked worried, and Vlad softly had me lower the gun. A glance at him made me realize he had the same look, which was not reassuring.

“In truth, I wanted to believe it was you”, she admitted. “I didn't want to think about the alternative.”

“It is impossible, though”, Vlad flatly stated. “We made sure of it.”

“Alright, are you ever going to tell us what the fuck is going on ?”, Leah snapped, fists on her hips.

Carmilla turned towards her, lowly hissing.

“What is going on”, Vlad interrupted. “Is that the Elder is back.”

“The Elder ?”, I asked, not sure I really wanted a response.

“He created most of us”, Vlad explained. “I have no idea how old he is, could be millenia. He started going mad, wanting more power, and planned a human genocide.”

“He turned Vlad to be his most powerful weapon”, Carmilla continued. “The legendary Impaler, infused with the strength and unending life of immortals. As for me, I was made by one of the Elder's first creations. As I was apparently the only one figuring out that a world without humans let very little dinner opportunities, I knocked some sense into this one, and we murdered the Elder.”

“Not very well, it seems”, Vlad somberly commented. He held me a bit tighter against him.

“Well, at least, the reason why he came back now is obvious”, Carmilla stated, looking straight at me. “He found the perfect way to torture you.”

She took a pause, and looked up at him, a hint of disappointment behind her cold eyes.

“He finally found someone you love.”

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Taglist : @carydorse @angelicdestieldemon @bloodhon3yx @thewondernanazombie @battocar @moony691 @mjlock @thebeautyofdisorder @festering-queen @paracosmfantasy @lost-girl-inc

27 notes · View notes

7hyuns · 5 years

Text

entirely altered

sehun x reader

warnings; hmm angst, choking, smut, swearing

word count; 5.8k

song; the blackest day - lana del rey

requested; uwu yes !!

- Ouuu! Scenario request for Sehun from exo? Anything will do! Thank you 😄

a/n; :/// i’m really not too sure about this one?? pls give me some feedback so i know if this is like. god awful [this also isn’t spell-checked yet. forgive me]

You sometimes thought that there was something seriously wrong with you. That maybe the universe had spun on its head when you had been born and left you with some fatal flaw that you could never fully place. The blissful years of your life before realising this were a time you missed immensely, although you were certain that if you were by some miracle allowed to go back, the colours you remembered being so vivid in them would fade out to the same dull greys that followed you now.

It was when you’d let your mind slip away from you and think of these things that you’d feel a little melodramatic. The weight of all your thoughts and memories would press themselves to your chest and make you feel as if you were drowning, which you knew from the moments after this feeling receded, was slightly over-the-top. Although, having the knowledge that all you could feel outside of this was a dull nothingness made you wonder which was worse, or maybe it just made you try and guess at which you preferred.

Deciding that this day was appearing to be a melodramatic one, you let yourself fall back onto the comfort of your mattress, surrounded by a tangled mess of a couple blankets and your duvet. A sigh bubbled past your lips and into the silent atmosphere of the room; even with the knowledge that you had nothing better to do than lay there in your sheets, you still felt a nagging need to get up for the day. You imagined making the effort to push yourself up and out of bed, the mere mental image making you groan in displeasure and curl further into the warmth around you. That same weight was holding itself languidly against you, making the idea of mundane actions feel like impossibly intricate tasks.

In defiance of the feeling, you pushed yourself upwards, swinging your bare legs to rest over the side of your bed until your toes skimmed the wooden floor, recoiling slightly at the cold. Over the course of your life, specifically when you’d decided you were prepared enough to move out to be on your own, you’d had to learn had to deal with your moods, as does everyone. As with the usual storm cloud that followed you on these kinds of days, you felt the need to catastrophise your situation when you already knew that rationally there was nothing wrong.

You flattened your feet against the floor and stood up, pausing for a moment to look back in disappointment at the mess of covers that you could still have been sprawled out within. The natural impulse to attempt to find something productive to do got the better of you, and you went to your learned routine to prepare yourself for a day spent in the solitude of your home. You slipped yourself into the shower, wanting to see if the hot water would do anything to clear your mind, already knowing it would do little to nothing as it always did.

Positioning yourself in clear view of the mirror above your sink, you pushed some strands of wet hair away from your face as took a small moment to take yourself in. Usually, when you were feeling dramatic enough, you would pick apart your features and decide what you didn’t like about them, but the effort of doing that didn’t appear to be within you today. This made you unsure of what to do next, the towel that was wrapped tightly around your body feeling constricting for a second as your brain scrambled at the loss of routine movement.

The muffled sound of your phone ringing jolted you out of the moment, and you found yourself moving quickly to catch the call. You saw your friends contact name across the screen, a buzz of relief spreading across your chest knowing you wouldn’t have to carry the conversation for a longer period of time. You drug the answer icon across, sitting yourself onto the edge of your bed and reaching the loose towel in your hand to try and speed up the process of drying your hair.

“Why is it that you always seem to ignore my texts but answer my calls? Do you just like hearing my voice?” You heard a light tease once you’d answered, a small laugh passing your lips in response.

“I was in the shower,” you justified lightly, “is it an emergency?”

A light laugh met your ears, “Yes! Yes, it is. We’re all going out tonight and you’re the only one who we couldn’t reach,” you opened your mouth to respond before something cut over you, “I should really expect it by now, though, hm?”

You found yourself laughing softly again, eyes going to glance out the window to check the weather, seeing the sky was at a heavy grey. Your eyes dropped to the chair by your desk in your room, skimming to catch the sight of a jacket you hadn’t realised was still there until just in that moment. It made you fall into a bout of silence, your mind turning back to the last time that you’d seen the owner of the jacket, making you breathe in sharply. This gave you a spiral of other ways you could be spending the day, of all the different things you could be doing without having to work up the effort to head out into the cold air.

“Actually,” you answered after a minute, clearing your throat before continuing, “I think I might already have plans.”

“Ah,” you heard a light tease in response, “boy plans?”

You scoffed under your breath, “Uh-huh.”

Another bright laugh met your ears, settling any lingering worry that she’d be offended you weren’t coming because of a boy, “Well, have fun with your boy plan. Call me if the plans change, though?”

“Yeah, of course, have a good night,” you responded, mumbling out the usual string of ‘good-bye, I love you, be safe,’ before hanging up the phone. You sat blankly for a moment, letting your eyes fixate on the jacket as your hand snaked to touch the left-over marks on your collarbones. Your phone began to feel heavy in your hand as you tried to think of what you would say to him ahead of time, picturing the different ways you could string the text together.

You fumbled slightly, finding the message thread that you’d never gotten round to deleting and opening it up, briefly letting yourself see the other texts – always in fours, it seemed. It was always him that started the conversation, too, with the generic, ‘You busy tonight?’ which always seemed to be followed by a, ‘No.’ From then, he’d give you a time and you’d confirm or deny it to be good for you.

Thinking about in detail, as you seemed to so desperately want to do today, you couldn’t even fully remember the first time you met Sehun. It didn’t matter, you supposed, it wasn’t like that question was ever going to be asked by anyone but yourself. All that really mattered between the two of you was that you had an easy-going arrangement that worked for the both of you, for what you could only imagine was vastly different reasons. Sehun always appeared, at least to you, like he was just having a good time, and who could you be to see anything wrong with that? For you, though, you couldn’t really be sure why you were still seeing him. Maybe you just liked him enough to have him be something casual to fall back on, or maybe you were looking for someone who didn’t ask too many questions about why your moods were so quick to jump from one extreme to another. Either way, you’d found that in him, even if you’d never been one to contact him first.

[16:11] You: are you busy tonight?

Sending the text felt strange, but the waiting around for an answer was even stranger. You picked at the different scenarios like a scab, although you could feel yourself actively getting annoyed with your own actions. You would have something to do tonight whether he responded or not, so why did it matter? In reality, you knew it was probably as simple as you wanting to get off while putting the least effort into the situation as possible, but that didn’t seem to click with the other part of your brain. The notification sound of your phone made you jump slightly, the sudden flicker of the screen that you’d been staring expectantly at adding to the sensation.

[16:16] Sehun: depends, what time do you need me?

You’d forgotten about the sensitivity that came with the dramatic feelings, and the bluntness of his response made your heart tighten in your chest. A moment of debate took place then, a beat too long for your liking, making you wonder whether or not you should overthink this or not before responding. You decided not to think further into it, but you found yourself re-reading the word need over and over like a scripture. Part of you wanted to scoff at the narcissism you weren’t sure he would find a way to convey over text, but the other part knew he was perfectly correct in the assumption this time around. No matter what mood you were in, he always found a way to fit with it and never seemed to complain at whichever way you treated him depending on which emotion was controlling your day.

[16:20] You: whatever time you’re free

[16:20] Sehun: i’ll be there by 6

///

To further prove your decision that today was a today based around melodrama, you had made sure you were absolutely and completely ready with ten minutes to spare. Having been doing this for a while, you knew Sehun was pretty good at getting there on time, but whenever you felt like this, you made sure to be ready faster. On other days, you couldn’t care less about being ready when he got there, and he’d wait patiently outside for you to be done.

For the most part, you got yourself made up for yourself in these moments, so you could have that feeling of being confident. But in this mood, it always seemed to be about impressing somebody else. You dropped your head back to rest on the back of your sofa, your skirt riding up slightly, although you couldn’t find the effort to care as a furrow found its way between yours brows. Generally speaking, you could barely handle your own feelings, especially the two prevalent ones that swarmed around you, which always lead you to wonder – how does anyone else? Your friends put it down to that just being your personality, and for that you supposed you were grateful, knowing you didn’t have to justify it to them. But there had been countless times when you’d been too dramatic and too emotional for a situation, and there’d been countless times when you hadn’t had enough or any kind of reaction to situations that needed one.

And, that, you supposed, drug you back to your earlier thoughts. Maybe you let Sehun come in and out of your life as he pleased because he dealt with your feelings without ever digging further into the situation. If part of the natural human complex was needing companionship, you were glad you’d somehow found someone who was able to fit with either mood without making you feel lesser because of it. And, even if you knew it would end with this mood, you found yourself beginning to indulge the idea of getting more from Sehun, of him feeling something more for you like you did. Or like you did sometimes. You could never be exactly sure whether you liked him because of who he was, or because you purely loved the attention and affection he was always so willing to give you.

A knock sounded through the apartment, and you wondered if you should answer the door slower in an attempt to appear less like you were waiting on him. A sheer and sudden rush of excitement got the better of you as you pulled yourself to your feet, padding your way to the front door as you double-checked yourself in the mirror. You pulled the door handle down to reveal him, dressed in jeans and a black shirt, slipping his phone into his front pocket as grinned at you.

“You texted first,” he greeted as you moved to let him step inside, the words calling for an embarrassed flush to cover your cheeks as you fumbled to think of something to say.

You assumed that after a while you’d find a sort of natural comfort with him, and be able to speak freely and not have the overwhelming worry of appearing to be something he would see as uncollected, as you did with friends. That never seemed to click into place, though, and you still found yourself struggling to find a sentence that didn’t sound bad in your own mind. In all honesty, you’d only seen yourself texting first if you’d gotten low again while feeling empty, as you imagined that would be the only time you wouldn’t care enough about his reaction to go for it.

Glancing back up from where you’d lost your focus again, you saw him continuing to grin at you, as if he’d automatically picked up that he was flustering you again. His ability to notice that detail made you wonder if he actively knew which emotion was steering you whenever he came over. You offered him a small shrug, giving up on finding the correct words to say as you began to fear the possibility of the atmosphere growing awkward without you speaking.

“You left your jacket,” you mumbled, feeling the lack of being prompted as soon as the words had passed your lips, making you internally cringe.

Sehun just hummed softly, “Alright, I’ll take it with me today.”

Your mouth felt impossibly dry, and your mind spun faster than normal as you offered him a nod in response. A swarm of irritation at yourself bubbled up inside of you, making your muscles tense; you’d never found this much awkwardness in conversing with him before. You felt unsure, like there were a thousand eyes on you, and you couldn’t figure out why. Of course, you never felt entirely natural in these moments, but you never felt as tensed up as you did right then.

The feeling of warm hands cupping your jaw caught your attention, making you glance up to see Sehun observing you intently, the slightest of furrows between his brows as he waited for an answer to a question you hadn’t heard. He quirked one of his brows at you in expectancy, a breathy laugh passing his lips as he realised you’d been too internally busy to hear him.

“What are you thinking about?” You heard him ask, and the question caught you slightly off guard. If you wanted to think about, which you didn’t, you couldn’t really remember the times that you’d communicated about anything other than what you wanted from one another. You couldn’t even remember a time when either of you had asked the other about their day, let alone what they were spending their time thinking about.

You let out a breathy laugh, mirroring his earlier reaction, almost in an attempt to assure him that everything was still as normal, whatever that was expected from you. “I’m, you know, a lot.”

He tilted his head at you in genuine curiosity, “A lot about what?”

Something tightened in your chest, and you felt the dramatic emotion that would have made butterflies flutter in your stomach if this had happened a few seconds sooner slip away as you felt that same emptiness attempt to curl itself around you. You shrugged softly, looking away from his eyes, “Does it matter?”

You expected him to blanch at this, or at least take some slight offence in your sudden bluntness. Instead, he simply grinned, “Not if you don’t want it to,” he mumbled, one of his hands dropping from your jaw to curl around your waist as he collided your lips with his. The action made it feel like your body was breathing out a sigh of relief, whether it was because you could almost say you’d missed kissing him, or just because it was giving you something else to focus on, you didn’t know, and you didn’t particularly care.

Your hands found their way to his hair, tugging on the strands slightly as he groaned softly into your mouth. His tongue skimmed along your bottom lip, and you found yourself letting him take control of the kiss with no concern over interrupting as he did. The window of letting go of any thought process was a small one, and you felt yourself jump at the chance to feel some form of completeness.

Sehun curled his other arm around your waist for a short second, his mouth leaving yours to trail sloppy, out-of-breath ones down your jaw and onto your throat as he grunted a small, “Jump.”

A small bout of nervousness ran through you at the request, being unsure of whether or not that was actually a good idea if you were going to be realistic with yourself. But, you had concluded in the few seconds you had to breathe clearly, you weren’t in the mood to indulge any rationality today. You gathered your confidence and jumped, feeling his arms curl underneath your thighs and catching you, holding you tightly against him as he walked you both backwards, stopping as he reached the beginning of the hallway to your bedroom. He slammed you against the wall, for a reason you couldn’t place other than some kind of overt desperation, but you also couldn’t find it within yourself to want to complain.

His grip on you tightened slightly, his lips making their way back to your own as his movements gained in their roughness. The kiss was sloppier than before, your lips moving against one another’s without him setting a rhythm, leaving you an opportunity to take some of the control back for yourself. You found yourself not wanting to, and instead you simply followed along with his messy actions until he slowed himself down, his lips again beginning to trail away from your own and down onto the skin of your neck. The harsh feeling of him starting to put pressure down on the places his teeth skimmed to leave marks you’d no doubt come across later made you release a soft moan.

“Sehun,” you moaned quietly, hoping he’d see it as a plea for him to finally move you both into the bedroom.

His movements slowed, and for a clouded moment you thought he was going to stop altogether, although a small hum left his lips a moment after, “Be patient.”

Biting back the huff that sat on the dry skin of your lips, you dropped your head as far back as it could go against the surface of the wall, giving Sehun more space to cover. You felt his teeth dig into your skin particularly hard, and you felt a surge of relief roll through you at the sensation, your mind buzzing in the aftermath of the sudden mixed jolt of pleasure and pain. A shocked whimper tumbled from your mouth before you could stop it, and through the haze you found yourself slipping into, you heard him chuckle in response.

All the feelings he’d been giving you stopped entirely, and you felt a rush of disappointment mingle with annoyance as you dropped your head forward in preparation to complain. You felt the sturdy surface of the wall behind you disappear, leaning yourself further into Sehun so you wouldn’t fall as his arms tightened around your figure again. The passage of time between him navigating his way to your bedroom was seemingly too long, and you found yourself attempting to leave as many small marks as possible in the free moments you had. It made you wonder what he thought whenever he saw the marks you’d leave him with, whether he’d see it as you did or if he thought nothing of them after he was away from you.

Your back hit your mattress, seconds later followed by Sehun hovering above you, his jean clad leg slipped between your thighs to knock them apart for him to manoeuvre between. His mouth returned to yours for the briefest of moments before he seemed to become impatient, his mouth moving to copy his earlier actions of finishing of the marks he’d started leaving. You couldn’t stop your mind spinning ahead of you, lingering questions in your head stopping you from being fully in the moment with him as you began to feel that immense pressure on your chest again.

“Do it again,” you moaned softly, your hands moving to thread through the strands of his hair as his met the hem of your skirt. He hummed in questioning, pulling himself away from you so he could see your face as you answered, “That thing, the thing you did earlier, do it again, please.”

The corners of his mouth turned upwards as he dropped his head down again, and seconds later you felt the same sharp sting of his teeth digging harshly into the skin of your neck as a collection of small whimpers met the relative silence of the room around you both. His hand slid up your skirt, moving to your covered heat as he pressed his knuckle down against you, making your hips grind upwards in search of more. You were always going to want more.

Screwing your eyes shut tightly to erase the thoughts in your mind, you pushed his shirt up, seeing him notice what you wanted as a complacent look crossed his features. The hand that had been pressed to your heat disappeared from between your legs to yank his shirt over his head, the fabric being thrown somewhere in the tidy space of your bedroom as his hands moved to bunch your shirt up. You pulled yourself to sit up slightly, dragging the bunched material of your shirt out of his hands and up off your body, dropping it onto the floor. He’s not going to give you anything more.

Your hands shook as they moved to cup his jaw, bringing his lips back to yours in a heated mess, your attempts to find a stable rhythm failing as Sehun took over. He detached himself from you, shoving you to drop onto your back as his weight disappeared from above you. You caught his eyes as he kicked his shoes off, his hands moving to undo his belt and push his jeans down his legs as he dropped to rest on his knees by the edge of the bed. His fingers moved along the skin of your thighs, teasing you with the idea of going where you wanted them before they changed course to meet the zip on your skirt, pulling it down afterwards.

Dropping your thighs open for him, his mouth immediately found it’s place leaving more marks onto your inner thighs, a place he usually left untouched. All the same, you found yourself pushing your hips up off the surface of the mattress in an attempt to gain a proper form of friction, but his arm slipped across your hips to push them back down, holding them still as he dug his teeth as harshly as earlier into the skin of your thigh. A loud moan of his name moved into the air, and he repeated this action a few times before you felt his fingers curl around the sides of your underwear as he pulled them down your legs, discarding them somewhere you couldn’t see. You’ll have to tidy all of this up earlier, when he’s gone.

“Sehun,” you whined, attempting to prompt him to do something more so your brain would get as clouded as it had mercifully been earlier. Another small laugh left his mouth as he finally began pressing minuscule open-mouthed kisses to your core. Your hips tried to move against the force of his arm, getting nowhere as he continued to give you the smallest bouts of friction. Moving your hands to curl into his hair, you tugged on the strands as he groaned against you, the vibrations from the sound causing you to suck in a harsh breath.

You felt two of his fingers press against your heat as you moaned slightly in anticipation, waiting for him to give you something more. The relief of finally having his fingers slip inside you made a string of moans pass your lips, his mouth moving to accompany the movements of his fingers as you felt the knot begin to build up in your stomach.

These actions within themselves were not particularly unusual, but what set the moment apart appeared to be that he didn’t seem like he was going to stop until you hit your high. Normally, this would just be used as a quick warm up to get you both ready, but as his fingers sped up their actions and his mouth moved along with them, you could feel the curiosity as to how far he was going to make you go begin to build up.

You felt your high hit you as his lips stopped their movements, relying on his fingers to have you ride out the feeling. Small moans of his name continued to leave your mouth for a few moments after he stopped, and you felt his presence finally make itself apparent above you again. The after-shocks of your high kept moving through you, your mind feeling completely clouded and full of thoughts that could only directly relate to the moment as you lightly whined again, pressing a weak kiss to his jaw in an attempt to have his lips back on yours.

A soft laugh met your ears, making you grin in response, “You feeling needy, princess?”

You wanted to scoff like you usually did when he teased you, but the use of the pet-name caught more of your attention than it should have. Instead, you just leant into the way he cupped your cheek, letting him bring you to his lips and press them against yours softer than he had before. The lack of desperation, or anything other than pure enjoyment of the sensation, in the kiss made your head spin, almost having to break away to avoid the heat creeping onto your cheeks. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his underwear, pushing them halfway down until he caught the message enough to pull them the rest of the way off. His lips didn’t seem to want to leave yours, parting for a second to pull in a ragged breath before he reconnected your lips. This doesn’t mean anything.

It felt like your brain had switched onto white noise, your body feeling heavy at the idea of losing this as his lips finally disconnected from your own, dropping to press soft, rushed kisses over the blooming bruises on your throat. His hands moved to cautiously grip your hips, not having the same roughness as they used to. Part of you wanted to think that meant something, it doesn’t, you know that already, but the other part of you wants him to hurry up so your mind stops spinning. You grabbed at the hairs at the nape of his neck, tugging on them as you whined in protest with how slow he was taking things.

A breathy laugh past his lips as reached over your head to open the draw of your bedside table, his hand scrambling around for a second before he pulled out a condom, and you huffed as he deliberately took his time sliding it on. He lined himself up with your core, his teeth grazing the skin of your shoulder as he slid himself into your heat.

He set a slower pace than you wanted, but his hips snapped against yours hard enough for you to ignore that. A groan of your name made you want nothing more than to have his lips back against yours, but the opportunity to hear more of those noises spill from his lips had you holding yourself back. His hand snaked up from your hip, moving to cup your jaw, although you reached to grip his wrist as it reached your throat.

“Choke me,” you moaned, guiding his hand so his fingertips were gently touching the space of your throat.

He blanched slightly, his hips stuttering against you as his thrusts almost paused altogether. “Are you sure?” He asked quickly, the pressure against your throat already beginning to increase as he dropped his hand to rest comfortably against you.

You nodded up at him, eyes catching the slight glint of concern within them before you nodded faster, “Yes, yeah, completely, please,” you whined, watching him nod slowly in response before his hand tightened on the sides of your throat timidly. The unsureness within the action faded as his hips began snapping against yours again, and you felt your mind go as hazy as you had desperately been wanting it to.

A steady chant of his name passed your lips, your head dropping back again as he made the most of having his hand curled around your throat. His other hand slipped between your legs, drawing figure eights as the small moans that interrupted his name grew in volume as the knot in your stomach began to build up again.

Jumbled groans and grunts passed his lips, mixing with the chants of his name passing your lips, but as his hips began losing any sense of their steadiness or rhythm and increased their pace, his hand left your throat for a small moment before he moved it back, “Fuck, princess, you always make me feel so good.”

The mumble made his hot breath ghost against the skin of your shoulder, your high becoming an almost tangible thing as your mind kept itself clouded over, nothing breaking through the moment you were in with him. Sehun slowed for the shortest of seconds, “I’m close,” he grunted, his teeth skimming over the earlier mark on your throat, making you whimper from the occasional sting it caused.

You nodded against him, only trusting your voice enough to say his name. You felt the knot in your stomach begin to come undone as he moaned softly, signalling he was about to hit his release too. Just as he did, you heard him groan softly, “God, fuck, I love you.”

For a moment, you couldn’t even fully comprehend that any words had been spoken, your high hitting you impossibly hard as your mind became blissfully silent in the wake of his hips as they slowed to a stop. He stilled for a moment, hovering above you still as his hand left your throat and his body untangled itself from you, much to your dismay. You weren’t sure what the next movement was supposed to be; if you were supposed to ask about it or pretend it never happened. You weren’t sure what to think of it either, what your position on it was, but your mind was, once again, running off ahead of you as you struggled to keep up.

It was in the heat of the moment. He knows what he said. It’s not as deep as you’re making it. You’re never going to know if you don’t ask him.

Gratefully – or maybe almost comically tragically – you realised in this moment that the two emotions you were in a constant loop with were not the only ones that existed for you. The third feeling that entered didn’t bring you anymore hope, instead it reaffirmed the long-term theory you had that something must be wrong with you. It was a strange mix of that same emptiness and the feeling of some great catastrophe plaguing you, making your body want to curl in on itself.

You adjusted yourself to sit up, debating reaching for one of your stray blankets to cover yourself, but instead you simply pulled your arms to your chest, standing up and grabbing the hoodie that you’d discarded in your room a while ago and slipping it on. You noted that Sehun was already redressing himself, causing panic to rise in your chest as you struggled to find a reason to keep him there, or anything you could say to make the pain blooming underneath your skin go away.

He glanced up from where he was buckling his belt, catching your eyes on him and immediately dropping out from the gaze, evidently unsure of what he should do, as well. You couldn’t seem to stop yourself from thinking anymore, wishing you could gain that nothingness where you wouldn’t be thinking about anything. Then again, you supposed if you had that feeling you’d want that constant blaring melodrama to be making you think so much. And now, things felt even worse, because there was nothing to fall back on and search for stabilisation on.

Sehun himself seemed impossibly tensed, unsure of what the next move was supposed to be now that he didn’t know how to act with you. He knew how to act when you were being dramatic and clingy with him, and he knew how to act when you just wanted him to give you something else to think about. But now that he didn’t know what you were feeling, he felt completely useless.

“Hey, princess?” He questioned softly, holding his shirt softly in his hands as you nodded at him in response to the nickname, “what are you thinking about?” He asked gently.

You shrugged, not sure how to summarise all the things that were rushing through your mind, “Why…why did you say that?”

Sehun paused for a moment, “I…I don’t know. Maybe I really do love you.”

You curled your arms around your mid-section, trying to give yourself some form of comfort while you struggled to understand both what he was saying and all the things you were thinking. “Oh,” you offered, looking down at your feet as you struggled to think of how this was making you feel.

You glanced back up as Sehun pulled his shirt back over his head, “You know where I’ll be,” he spoke evenly, and you found yourself offering him nothing more than an unsure nod as he turned to walk out from your bedroom. You pictured the path he’d be taking through your apartment, backtracking until he reached the front door and left, hearing the sound of it closing behind him resound through the space.

Taking a quick glance around the room, your eyes looked outside the window as you saw the rain you’d expected since earlier begin to splash against the pane, before you dropped your eyes to see the jacket you’d seen that afternoon, realising he’d forgotten once again, which only lead to make you wonder when – or if – you’d get the chance to give it back to him.

#writing #exo smut #exo scenarios #exo imagines #exo reactions #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #sehun smut #sehun scenarios #s; exo #m; osh #g; smut #g; angst

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fiercefray · 5 years

Photo

Because Alfie’s alive and I AM HAVING FEELINGS!

The gramophone played as Ollie watched him from the couch, her view only obstructed when Margaret came to collect the tray. She gave the maid a nod of thanks before continuing to watch Tommy Shelby looking out at the ocean with a pair of binoculars.

“Going to keep staring, Ollie?”

“Excuse me for being a bit concerned that I have a Shelby in my house. You, no less. Always figured it would be Lizzie and the kids, trying to get away from your bullshit.”

He sighed, lowering the binoculars. “They might yet.”

“No,” she replied. “Lizzie is like you. Too stubborn to leave well enough alone. How are the kids?”

“Doing alright. And Talia?”

She shrugged. “Got a feeling when she’s older she’s going to break a lot of hearts.”

“Just like her mother.”

“You flirting with my wife, Tommy?” Both of them looked back as Alfie came into the room. He continued, “I was just having some oil rubbed into the bits that really hurt, mate. What do you think of that view, eh?”

Ollie smiled, taking her husband’s hand as he passed where she sat on the couch. He reached over to lift the needle off the record, bringing the music to stop as Tommy came back in from the balcony. “It's Margate. What can you do?”

“I'll tell you something, Tommy, right? I sit all day every day in that chair, on that balcony, contemplating the fact, right, that life is so much easier to deal with when you are dead!” Alfie plopped down next to his wife, putting his arm over the back of the chair. Ollie nestled in a bit closer. Times really had changed. Before, Ollie would never have felt comfortable being this vulnerable with her husband with Tommy in the room. Too much tension between all of them for various things. Now, life was a bit more simple.

Since Alfie’s ‘death,’ Ollie took over the business, running everything with her husband as a silent partner. Well, as much as Alfie could be silent. She handled the business, raised her daughter, and took care of her husband who still dabbled in what he did before. She still did some training of the horses as well, though her contact with the Shelbys had grown quite limited save for the occasional letters and such.

“Hello, Alfie.”

“Yeah. Did you - did you look through the binoculars?” Alfie pointed past Tommy to the ocean. “I watch ships. No two are the same.”

“Yeah,” Tommy replied.

“That is how God sees us both, in his eyes.”

He didn’t even raise a brow. “God, eh? “

“Yeah, sort of. I mean, you know. Someone who's responsible for all this fucking mess. Now, how soon did you know that I was not dead?”

Ollie patted his chest. “Sweetheart, you wrote him a letter. You asked about Cyril.”

“Did I?” he asked. Tommy nodded. “They gave me a lot of drugs at first. Hmm. Yeah, all right. I was lying out there, and the tide had come in, and it woke me up. I remember looking around and thinking, you know ‘Fuck. If this is hell...it looks a lot like Margate.’”

“Maybe that's just what hell looks like, eh?” said Tommy.

“No, no,” Alfie shifted to grab the Torah on the side table. “Not according to this holy book right here, yeah? It gives a very, very vivid description. You and I are both fucked, mate.”

“Do you read the papers?” Tommy looked between the two of them.

Ollie scoffed. “Of course not.”

Next to her, Alfie pulled out his gun and cocked it, aimed right at Tommy’s chest. Ollie was half tempted to take it herself. His aim wasn’t what it used to be since he went blind in his left eye on account of Tommy’s poor aim.

“But you've heard.”

“Of the fascism?” she replied. “Yeah, we heard.”

Tommy didn’t seem to care. “Three, two, one, bang. No? Fine.”

“Good Lord, your fucking condition has got worse, mate,” said Alfie as Tommy took the empty seat across from them. He coughed, sounding quite terrible. “Mine, on the other hand, I've been living the dream. Sometimes, I will shoot at the side of a ship. And sometimes I'll sit here, I may shoot at the old seagull.”

“Ollie,” he said, looking to her. “I'm going to shoot Oswald Mosley.”

She let out a short laugh. “Sure you don’t want me to do it, Tommy? I mean, you did a rather shite job on my husband here. Your mind on something else, eh? Cause you know, Tommy, the only thing you should be picturing when you’re shooting someone is the bullet going through their fucking head.”

“Yes, it was actually,” he lit a cigarette.

“Yeah, all right,” said Alfie. A ship’s horn bellowed in the distance. He picked up the binoculars and looked out the one side with his good eye. “Oh, look. A ship.”

“Why do you want to shoot him?” Ollie asked.

“I need to organise a riot,” said Tommy. “And I hear you still have some standing in the Jewish community. You and your husband.”

Alfie leaned forward, making Ollie move with him so her arm was now interlocked with his. “Let me be clear, right? Since my resurrection, I am considered to be a God, all right? In the Holy Land, someone has made an image of me out of rock embedded in the sand, so I'm told, and I am planning to make a pilgrimage to stand in my own shadow. Are you going to shoot him because this man is evil?”

Tommy didn’t answer the question. “I need men who can fight. Mosley uses men from Glasgow. So if the men causing the trouble are Jewish it will be explicable.”

“Since when did you need explanations, Tommy?”

“He’s a politician, darling,” she told him. “Unlike me, he has to answer to the King and all that bullshit.”

“Oh, that's right, yeah. Oh, yeah. And how has that been for you, Tom?”

“Gangs, wars, truces... nothing I didn't already know.”

The long snore Alfie gave in response made Tommy smile, something Ollie hadn’t seen in a long time. She gently pushed her husband’s knee. “So, you kill Mosely, you kill that bullshit he’s spreading. How much you paying?”

“I thought you might do it for the cause, Ollie.”

“Fuck off,” she replied.

He smiled again. “You’re not the same barmaid I knew.”

She gave a smile back. “And this ain’t Billy Kimber. This is a man likely to try to be prime minister.”

Tommy looked out the window. “Each man will get £20. You'll get £5,000.”

“You know, as a god, Tommy, right, I am now able to just rise above those kinds of insults, mate,” Alfie told him. “My wife, is not.”

He rolled his eyes. “Ten?”

“How is my dog?” asked Alfie.

“Your dog is fine.”

“In that case, ten should be enough,” he replied. “Where do you want the men?”

“Birmingham.”

Ollie shook her head. “Those men won’t step foot in Birmingham for anything less than 25.”

“25 it is. You can take your dog back, then, eh?”

“No, it's better for him to think that I am still dead. As it is also with the police. Right. So you're still at it, eh, Tommy? Hmm. You ain't got no Margate to go to,” Alfie clicked his tongue.

Tommy replied. “No. And I have no interest in shooting seagulls.”

“Only in MPs?” she questioned.

“Yeah. And their paid informants.”

Alfie nodded. “I was on a lot of drugs at first, right, due to the pain, you know, on account of it Well, you know, being shot in the face by some cunt,” again Tommy smiled. “I won't bore you with the details, it'dchill ya. Nonetheless, I had a recurring dream. I saw you in a field, right? With a big black horse. And you said goodbye, and then bang. All right, then. Well, what now?”

Tommy sighed as he tossed his spent cigarette out onto the balcony. “I will continue till I find a man that I can't defeat.”

Ollie motioned to the door, standing up. “I’ll show you out.”

“Don’t let him seduce you on the way, luv,” Alfie told her.

She smiled down at him. “No promises, sweetheart. I’ll be back.”

Tommy followed her through the twisting hallways toward the front of the house. She could practically feel him smirking. “He still thinks you have feelings for me.”

Ollie came to a stop at the top of the stairs. They overlooked a beautiful foyer, which held a window that gave them a beautiful view of the field where her horses ran. “Don’t you?”

“Thought you said we would have to wait for another life.”

She shrugged. “Depends on how this one goes. Though I still talk to Lizzie. Seems like that’s going all right. Still can’t believe our oldest are seven years old already.”

“Mummy!”

Ollie looked past Tommy as Talia came running towards her. She looked so much like her father when he was young. Dark eyes and hair, a perpetual tan from playing outside. Ollie bent down to see what her daughter had. “Look what I found.”

The girl opened up her hand to reveal a small ring, one that of course she had to show now in front of Tommy. Ollie smiled anyway. “You found it. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Talia finally seemed to notice someone was with them. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Tommy greeted her. “You must be Talia.”

She held out her free hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“This is Mr. Shelby,” Ollie introduced them as Tommy shook the little hand. “He’s an old friend of mummy and daddy. I was just about to walk him out. Why don’t you go check on daddy, eh? The doctor was just by with the oils.”

Talia nodded as she dropped the ring into her mother’s hand and ran off again in the direction of the study. Ollie stood back up. Tommy looked down at the ring, the one he had given her eight years ago. “Can’t believe you still have it.”

“Like I said, depends on how this one goes,” she slipped the ring into a pocket. “Now, who’s taking care of Mosely?”

“Ollie, you’re not shooting him.”

She looked out the window to the field. “At least tell me you are getting someone good.”

“Working on it.”

She nodded. “Something doesn’t feel right, Tommy.”

“Getting visions like your husband?” he asked her.

“Talia gets them too,” said Ollie. “Bad ones. Bloody ones. I know she’s talking about you when she mentions ‘the man with the bright blue eyes.’”

“And?”

Ollie finally looked at him. “Make sure to not tell anyone the plan you don’t trust. Otherwise, the blood spilled will not be Mosely’s. And that scares me more than anything.”

#ollie walker #peaky blinders fic #angel of the high ground

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empathicstars · 5 years

Text

if i killed someone for you

what: an unedited drabble of Aella dying to save Linus, who’s been turned into a morph when: an AU in my Fire Emblem verse, sometime after Linus is turned into a morph why: I had it as a vivid dream and of course I had to torture Kristopher despite my lack of FE knowledge for: @herousanimarum

She sees the pain on Lloyd’s face, and it is nearly unbearable. Perhaps she senses it more keenly than she would sense another’s pain, due to having linked her mind with his prior ( there appears to be an unrelenting joining between the two of them, now, due solely to recalling each other’s memories in their heads ), but perhaps it is the severity of his agony that keeps calling her attention to him. They are on their way to find where Linus has been taken, where he’s stationed along with many of the other morphs. They are there to fight as many as they can, but Aella knows that as far as Lloyd is concerned, they are primarily going for Linus.

There is little to no way to save him. They don’t have the necessary information. They all know that. Lloyd does not live under any illusion that anything can be different. The hopelessness in his form nearly crushes her.

( After all, humans were made and meant to have hope. What would a human be without it? )

He’s staring emptily at a campfire they’ve made on their way to battle one night, and something about his gaze is what sets her mind on it. She pulls a book from her satchel and begins to write. It is not an unusual sight, her bent over a book, writing utensil moving, and she is grateful that no one questions her.

She’s unsure what she would have said, anyway.

She puts a leather bookmark in where she’d written, closes it carefully and returns it to her bag.

She knows what she ought to do.

From that moment on, her fate is more or less sealed, despite the fact that they have not even seen Linus yet. Aella has often been seen as relenting and obedient, and that she is, but in the rare times her mind is set, it is ironclad. Nothing and no one can sway the assuredness in her soul. It is not a difficult potion to swallow, the idea that her death is just around the corner. Somehow, it is relaxing. Somehow, it is freeing. Lloyd’s depression serves only to strengthen her.

Soon, he will be better.

Soon, it will all be the way it should be.

She’s armed and has trained long and hard, so when Aella insists on following Lloyd into battle, he has to relent. Perhaps it is the fog of sadness that makes him not question it more severely. Perhaps he truly trusts her bravery, her strength. Perhaps he now counts her among the Black Fang, and would find it hypocritical to doubt her when she pledged her allegiance to him and his fight. Either way, the pair of them make their way through rooms and ruins, caves beige and dripping from upwards with water. She senses in many of these people, these other assailants, what she’d sensed in Sonia, what she’d desperately whispered to to Lloyd in the doorway of a small room in Bern. It was too little too late, it seemed, to save Linus.

But she would, now. She would, now.

They find him as they believe he will be -- skin yellowed, eyes the same, hair dark. She feels the pain in Lloyd, feels him tighten his grip on his weapon. She breathes, steps forward, between them.

“Do you trust me?”

He’s confused, but it’s not as visible on his face as it may be on another one. Aella has only asked that question a few other times -- when she is about to do something that extends into her powers. He answers then as he’d answered always.

“Yes.”

“Then stay here and do not move. All will be well.”

There’s something like dissent in his body, but he’s already pledged to her that he’d trust her. Now he must follow through. She steps forward towards Linus, armed and ready, and holds her own dagger tightly in her hands.

Of course, she’s not planning on using it. She does not need to. The point is for him to hit her.

And hit her he does -- much to the dissent and call of Lloyd. Metal collides with skin, slides deep within her with ease that only comes from tremendous strength. Momentum pins her against a cave wall, his taller form slumping, pure anger, pure energy above her. The hand closest to Lloyd curls against rock, tightens into a fist as if that will suppress the pain of being torn open. Mouth gapes as if to scream, but nothing comes from her lips.

Her other hand shakes as it raises, goes to press against his face, line his eyebrows with two fingers, press two others against his cheek. She does not close her eyes, but she no longer sees.

Her world is champagne colored, now, within the meld, as though her brain had been dipped into such, and she wades -- wades away from the pain of her own corporeal form, unmoving, and into his mind. It is a mess, unkempt at the edges, pages torn, clothes rugged with seams ripped at, but she gives him a backdrop to help find himself, formulate enough for communication. He will not understand the shifting messages of the mind as easily as some others may -- and there is no cruelness of that thought, just stark reality. She pictures the world in which they are in now. Cave walls, her with her dagger still in its hilt. When he appears across from her, paled as he should be and orange-haired, he stares down at his hands as though he is looking for his weapon. As though this reality is made weaker without the inclusion of him stabbing her through.

( It’s, of course, on one of his hundreds of belts, at his side. She is nothing if not detail-focused. )

He’s confused, for the briefest of seconds, and she cannot help the automatic telepathy of answering, before he can fully get the hang of an imagined form crouched within his own mind next to her. How is she doing this, what happened to him, what is she doing, why, why, oh God, why is she doing this. I’m not worth this, she hears, and though he may feel the emotional horror those words elicits, he’ll never allow her to respond.

“You’re an idiot,” he says, as he would if they were both across from each other. Ah, yes, this idea of a backdrop to center himself was much more helpful. He could play at an illusion that their thoughts were separate, even while hearing her contemplation on the fact that they were not.

“I never claimed otherwise,” she says, while I know beats in response. Something about this is near-dizzying, near-impossible, slipping beneath the weight of a hold over his mind, finding him intact and dragging him free of it, shifting her to it. She’s weak with it. She has to find her strength.

Lloyd.

Her memories are as clear for him as though projected behind her on the wall, as though part of his own history, own memory. Waking up to see him above her, blurried. Cold fingertips finding one another. Her smudging blood from the crease of his face. The two of them leaned against each other, books open in their laps, fast asleep. His smiling behind a mug of tea she’d made him. The two of them standing near each other, protectively, sides overlapping. Lloyd, Lloyd, Lloyd.

This was all for him. To save Linus.

So many responses swirl through him -- to poke fun at them, an ache for something similar, an anger for her doing this to him, a surprise that she could even care this much. He stares at her, unspeaking.

She’s pushing the hold over him, the hold that turns bones to concrete, blood to ice. That makes nothing matter anymore.

“Stop it.” He sounds annoyed.

Part of her wishes to do as ordered. To release herself this pain and sink into nothing. But she is too far back to stop.

She thinks of his melancholy, his emptiness, his heartbreak these past few days. How listless and numb he has appeared. How broken he has been.

She compares it with him by his brother’s side. Begrudging smiles as Linus knocks into him. Tsks that sound more friendly than chastising. A sharp laugh.

Linus watches it all, simmers with horror at the knowledge of what she’s doing it. “Stop it! Goddammit, fuck, I told you to stop!”

“He needs you.” A flicker back to him at their campsite, days ago. Head hanging. Haloed in gloom.

“He needs you!” A flicker now, forward, to the memory of his voice ringing out in terror as she’d been run through with his weapon, but it is almost immediately overridden with overwhelming self-loathing, written on every wall.

Children’s disapproving faces, saying she is not good enough.

Her mentor, saying she will never be enough like her mother.

Her, in the ashes of the Nova, knowing she will never be strong enough.

“He will forget me,” she says, to drown out him listening to her pain, to drown out his shock at how overcoming her feelings truly run, how deep her shame lives. “You are his brother. The two of you have an unbreakable, unchangeable bond. One I will never fully understand. He needs you.”

Linus is furious, and she feels it as though lava seeps up from the floor, as though the anger and his mess of thoughts are there to flood her, distract her totally from the careful work of taking the morph mind from his. He tries to move for his sword, but she is faster -- she pulls out her dagger and closes steps between them, presses the blade of her weapon to his throat.

He stares at her, a mixture of total confusion and shock.

“I am sorry,” she says, gentle as though it is true. “Here, I have the advantage.”

He doesn’t quite like that. Of course he would not. He trained long to be physically strong, long as she spent to be mentally strong. He thrashes, but inside the world of the mind, he does not move.

Outside, however, he is beginning to be freed from the hold of the morph, beginning to be given feeling back -- arms, legs, hands, all his own, and he pulls his weapon from her, stabs it forward again, once, twice, three times, desperately, over and over, four, five, stabbing her as though that will stop it, stabbing her as though it will save her, stabbing her without real meaning to his actions.

“Linus, stop! No!” Not her voice, outside of them.

As though he’ll feel something, as though it’ll be okay, as though he can save the girl his brother loves by doing this, he can’t be all, he’s not enough, Lloyd would never forgive him, never, not ever, stabbing over, and over --

“LINUS!” Ringing against the walls.

But it does not matter. It is done. The mind is slid into her, and she retreats before she can hear any further of his thoughts, steal any more of him.

“My book,” she says to him, stepping backwards, sinking into cavern. “I wrote to him. See that he gets it.”

And then he is gone -- or rather, she is. She slips from his mind and slumps against the cave, gasping at the darkness, the brightness, the feel of a mind holding over her that is not her own, beginning to release her as they feel her fade away, feel her die. Shadows shift before her -- one retreating, one growing closer -- as she begins to slide towards the ground.

Knees weak. All body weak. Lips pouring blood as freely as one may cry.

It hurt. It hurt so much. She felt cold and alone and small.

She closed her eyes.

It would be good. This death. She was saving someone. More than one person. She was doing her duty.

It was more penance than for which she could have hoped.

#blood tw #death tw #injury tw #ask to tag #v: alpha persei #fangsjustice #( drabble. )

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tonystarktogo · 6 years

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Tiny Tony Overlord Part 3

Part I | Part II | Read on AO3

Betaed by the amazing @folklejend. All remaining mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

Chapter 3 Recover

.Minor S.H.I.E.L.D. Unit.

Bix, whose birth certificate states the name Bianca Arlinda White, has had a terrible day so far. Admittedly, the good days have been few and far in between ever since Captain fucking America was rediscovered in the middle of fucking nowhere and successfully defrosted before the right people could get their hands on him. Like Iron Man’s creation hadn’t been bad enough—and really, who could have seen that one coming?

It’s not that Bix has an opinion on their existence one way or another, it’s just that superheroes tend to be, well. Messy. Not to mention that there are only so many high horses and moral bullshit speeches you can listen to before you want to take a nearby machine gun and shut them the heck up yourself.

[continue below the cut]

And then there are those days where they open their damn mouth and take control of your most precious weapon because they apparently eat shameless amounts of luck for breakfast every day. Which is just not fair. Just because Bix doesn’t play with the good guys doesn’t mean fate is allowed to mess up every single mission Bix is in charge of. That just isn’t right!

“Enter,” a voice calls out, and Bix pushes the internal rant aside to be finished at another time in favour of entering the small, clean office.

Walter Brickley is the supervising officer of SHIELD’s local strike teams. He is also meticulously dressed, single, in his early thirties, and filled to the brim with confidence and self-importance. In other words he is perfect.

Bix observes Brickley’s expression closely. The way he takes in the expensive high heels, the form-fitting blouse with the top button undone, the manicured fingers and the skirt an inch shorter than SHIELD’s dress policies allow. Brickley isn’t a pig, thankfully. He doesn’t leer, doesn’t even stare excessively. It might have made the job easier, but there is always a fifty-fifty chance Bix will snap and break someone’s knee, and that never helps. He is interested though, if his dilated pupils are anything to go by.

“How can I help you, Miss?” Brickley asks, the picture of friendly competence.

Years of practice allow Bix to repress the instinctive grimace and paint a honeyed smile on instead.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Agent Brickley.” Bix shakes the man’s hand. “My name is Andrina Flynn. I work directly under Senator Stern. I was hoping the two of us could come to an agreement.”

* * * * *

Bix leaves Agent Brickley’s office twenty-five minutes later, the picture of the calm and collected secretary. The closest bathroom is right around the corner, and it takes Bix all of four minutes to replace the skirt with rugged pants, exchange the heels with black combat boots, and pull the long, wavy locks into a high ponytail. By the time Bix’s cell phone rings, the last traces of deep red lipstick have been wiped away and the face inside the mirror starts to look familiar again.

“Yes?” Bix answers, careful to use a deeper voice.

“Agent White, this is Agent Brickley. There is a minor internal security issue that needs to be taken care of immediately. STRIKE team 2 has been authorised to liquidate a threat towards National security. The details will be sent to your phone momentarily. Get a hold of your people and be ready to go in five.”

Bix smirks. “Copy that, sir.”

It is high time to get rid of a certain bothersome—if currently child-sized—genius and reclaim the organisation’s favourite toy.

“But how did you get Brickley to agree to this?” Archie Denver whispers quietly in the back of the trunk half an hour later. “The guy is squeaky clean like no other!”

“Oh, Archie.” Bix patronisingly pats the man on the head. “You’re thinking too simple again. You’re still operating under the assumption that you need an army of corrupt soldiers to take on the world. But you don’t.”

The unconcealed glee on Bix’s face makes their colleagues, Hydra and otherwise, shift nervously.

Good. They may survive this retrieval mission after all.

“All you need is one corrupt mole amongst a sea of honest fools.”

“Ma’am?” an eager trainee speaks up from the other side of the truck, oblivious to Bix’s reflexive twitch. “The target has been located.”

* * * * *

.Zach’s B&B.

Tony is abruptly reminded why he’s chosen to spend the last couple of hours on the uncomfortable seat when he tries to stand and his knees almost give out under him. The dull ache in the back of his head intensifies as well, causing the world to tilt sideways, and for a long moment, it’s all he can do to remain upright and remember how to breathe.

Through it all, Dead-Eyes stays motionless in the shadiest corner of the room and watches him with a blank face. When Tony is aware enough to notice, he appreciates the man’s silence. Mostly though, he just prays for the piercing pain to disappear.

It doesn’t.

“Pepper,” he whispers, the word so soft he almost chokes on it.

She doesn’t smile at him like she used to, hasn’t smiled at all since they’ve lost Rhodey, but he reads the understanding in her eyes. Traces the affection in her scarred features. She is still here after all, still stands tall and proud, brimming with the same fiery determination that has first brought her to his attention so many years ago.

“Tony.” She takes his hands into hers, the touch warm and familiar. “There is no cure.” Her voice doesn’t break, doesn’t waver and god, she is beautiful like this. “You know that. You’ve done the best you can, you’ve done everything you can.”

“Not everything.” His eyes burn.

“This isn’t your fault, Tony,” she says with unshakeable conviction. “I love you.”

Their kiss tastes of the tears they’ve forgotten how to cry and he can’t let go of her, can’t lose her, not after everything, not ever, but when she asks, he can’t deny her anything.

She walks into one of their facilities the next day with her head held high, one of Tony’s most devastating, amplified Jerichos strapped to her chest. She takes over 300 Others with her.

The last of Tony Stark dies with her.

Tony is kneeling on the ground, palms pressed against the solid floor, desperately trying to anchor himself to the present.

He is in a motel. The images in his head, no matter how vivid, aren’t real. Or, a darker voice in the back of his head whispers mockingly, are they?

Tony swallows. Pepper’s face when she found out about the baby—too late, always too late—flashes before his eyes, a look of hopeless devastation so shattered, it tears him apart even now. He can’t recall the moments that have led up to this, nor what happened after. But does it really matter? At some point in time, it might have happened, and Tony can’t take that chance. Can’t allow his friend to ever feel pain like that again, not when he can still do something about it.

Stumbling towards the kitchen corner, Tony struggles to open a bottle of water with shaking hands.

His headache is worse than ever. A reflection perhaps of the utter chaos inside his mind, the strings woven too tightly together to be untangled without ripping them, the gaping holes in between that leave too many questions unanswered.

Tony sways back to the table. Takes another pill on autopilot. Swallows two gulps of water. He tries to set the glass down but his fingers are numb and the glass slips from his grasp. He doesn’t try to catch it. The glass shatters on the concrete with a clash.

“Feel better now?”

“No.”

“Throw another plate then. Maybe the world will magically become a better place. Maybe destroying what little we have left is the cure we’ve all been looking for.”

Tony glares at his oldest friend, who is entirely too blasé in the face of his fury. “What do you want, honey bear?”

“I just want to make sure you’re alright.” Rhodey steps a bit closer then, not close enough to touch yet, but close enough to remind Tony that he’s there. Rhodey is always there.

Almost against his will, Tony can feel some of the tension in his muscles dissipating. “Who cares?” he mutters, just to be a stubborn asshole. “I’m just the mass-murdering megalomaniac, aren’t I?”

“I take it the talk with Rogers didn’t go well.” Rhodey doesn’t look surprised. Truth be told, neither is Tony.

“Yeah,” Tony snorts derisively. “Turns out Captain America doesn’t abide to the, and I quote, ‘needless slaughter of tens of thousands of innocent civilians.’ Who would’ve thought, eh?”

For a moment, Tony simply stares at the remains of his destroyed kitchen. “He thinks there’s another way,” he whispers eventually, aware of how tired he sounds.

Rhodey’s hand squeezes his shoulder comfortingly. “What do you think?” he asks, face free of any judgement.

It allows Tony to say the words that have been drowned out by Steve’s single-minded determination far too often. “I think he’s right,” he admits. “There is another way. But we’ll lose people every day searching for it. And who’s to say that there’ll be anyone left to save by the time we’ve found it?”

Tony searches Rhodey’s eyes, wills his friend to understand.

“There’ll be collateral damage no matter which choice we make, and by—by not containing the damage, we aren’t saving the world, we aren’t even saving the people in the ghettos. We’re absolving ourselves of their deaths, nothing more.”

“Tones-“ Rhodey’s eyes are achingly gentle.

He is interrupted by an icy “‘Containing the damage’?” from behind them.

Tony feels sick. The memory is frightening in its clarity. He can picture the entire scene in his head, down to the colour of Rhodey’s shirt—red and yellow, because of course Rhodey would wear Iron Man merchandise for this kind of conversation—like it has happened only minutes ago, and the emotions it evokes are overwhelming.

There is only one question. Who the hell is Rhodey?

Out of the corner of his eyes, Tony catches a blurry shadow moving towards him but he can’t even muster up the will to shield his face. His headache is steadily getting worse. It’s impossible to focus on anything but the piercing pain deep within his skull, burning with an intensity that makes him want to crack his head open just to get it out. Pressing his flushed skin against the cool floor helps a little but the relief is short-lasting.

It feels like an eternity before Tony finds the will to turn onto his back. The only thing he wants to do right now is lie here and hope the world will stop turning around him at some point. He can’t though. Not when he doesn’t know what is happening to him and whether these symptoms will pass on their own. Who knows what the purpose of the weird energy that hit him was. It might work like a slow-acting poison. Hell, Tony’s physical self is decades younger than his mind; who knows what kind of effects such an imbalance has? What if his body can’t cope with the strain?

No, Tony can’t afford to waste more time. And once he has managed to formulate that thought in his head, he clings to it. Holds on with an iron determination that has been formed and shaped by terror and loss, left him unwilling to consider anything but success a possibility.

Somehow, Tony makes it back onto his feet and after he has blinked away the first bout of dizziness, things get a bit more manageable.

“Alright, Dead-Eyes,” Tony’s voice sounds about as terrible as he feels but he doubts his shadow will care. Actually, he’s starting to question whether Dead-Eyes is even capable of caring. “Clean this room out, don’t leave anything behind.”

The command sounds odd on his tongue, familiar almost, the way a song from your early childhood might be. Like he’s said it a thousand times before, often enough that the details of every occurrence blur and bleed together. Tony shakes the uncomfortable sensation off.

He will have to deal with Dead-Eyes eventually, but he is in no state to do a background check, never mind conduct an interrogation. Besides, so far the man hasn’t tried to kill him. That has to count for something.

“Ready?” he mumbles.

Dead-Eyes gives a sharp nod. He’s wearing his goggles and face mask again. The look isn’t as disturbing as it probably should be, but that seems to be a theme where Dead-Eyes is concerned.

“Cool.” Tony staggers towards the door. “Time to visit some old friends. Older friends. Urgh, whatever.”

They don’t even make it off the parking lot.

I’m enjoying this story a lot, hope you do too! Feel very welcome to share your thoughts and impressions!

#ReRe writes #Tiny Tony Overlord #fic #Tony Stark #Bucky Barnes #Winter Soldier Bucky #tiny Tony #Bix the HYDRA goon #background information #things are slowly developing #actually they're about to get interesting #cue evil laughter

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beebuddyreviews-blog · 7 years

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Title: The Wonderlands // Author: Stylinsoncity @alienproof // Rating: Mature // Word Count: 150520 // Chapter - AU Famous Louis / Single Dad Harry // Completed: 06/26/2017

Actual Summary: "Somewhere between chaos and control — these are the wonderlands."Harry's daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis' girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair.

Green’s Summary: Harry is a single dad to Andy, a budding rock star. Louis is the producer of her all girl band. Harry and Louis have a pretty immediate attraction to each other but Andy has made her father promise that he won’t go after Louis. A lot of pining and sexual tension ensues.

Hi! It’s Green here with another review. I can’t believe I actually finished when I said I was going to. The Taming of The Shrew who needs that when I can read Stylinsoncity’s The Wonderlands. Guys, I’m obsessed with this fic. I’ve literally just finished it (at work!) and I cannot even think straight it was so amazing. Every chapter – every page – was so much better than the last one. THE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. THE DECLARATIONS OF LOVE. I feel like I’m not even processing anything right now. My brain is just screaming: incredible, beautiful, amazing, talented. Picture me as Lady Gaga in that interview right now. Anyways, I guess I’ll stop screaming and we can get into the grit of this fic yeah? Here is my review for Stylinsoncity’s The Wonderlands.

Rest of the review under the cut <3 .

While this is the only fic by Stylinsoncity I have read she has written quite a bit for the fandom. To The Ends of The Earth, Love is Divine, and The Impossible Now seem to be very popular reads. I am completely convinced of this author’s talents and will definitely be reading more from her.

Amazing. Truly amazing. Stylinsoncity is able to capture an incredible arrange of emotions: happiness, sadness, disappointment, fear. I was feeling everything these characters were feeling – I was right in the thick of it with them. There are really good writers within the fandom but this author and this fic are just shining right now. I don’t know who betaed this fic but they did a fucking incredible job. If Stylinsoncity did it herself then I am in awe. Really. The writing here was so flawless! I don’t think I’ve seen very many people able to pull off similes as well and effortlessly as Stylinsoncity has done. The comparisons fall flat or they don’t make a lot of sense, but here in this fic she uses them to weave such incredibly vivid scenes.

Her attention to detail is impeccable. I can perfectly imagine the flat Harry lived in with the flower shop below. And I think that adds so many levels to Harry’s charm, because Harry at times is hard to root for. He’s a thirty-four year old who tends to act twenty and makes many mistakes, but still comes off as incredibly genuine and endearing. I love when authors make their characters fuck up, I really do. No one is perfect – miscommunication is unavoidable – and it works so amazingly here. I want a character with flaws. I want someone I can relate to.

It is scary how much of myself I saw in Harry. Honestly. I don’t know if you guys know (it’s in our about us page, but who reads those) but I am a mom of an almost two year old. She is the most beautiful thing on this earth and I, much like Harry with Andy, would do absolutely anything for her.

You know that moment in the fic when Andy is born:

“Later, he had time to hold her. Just the two of them (and Cassie sleeping nearby). Her eyes were shut, but when he whispered to her -- a tentative 'Hi, Andy' -- they fluttered open. She looked right at him and his world was thrown off kilter. An explosion occurred. Cherry bomb had never been more accurate.”

It’s exactly like that. Exactly. I didn’t get to hold my daughter right off the bat – I remember thinking how much I really didn’t want to. I had been in labor for sixteen hours and I was absolutely terrified, but when I finally did get to hold her it was an emotion I can’t even describe. I literally said “wow” and then your entire world is refocused. Cherry bomb had never been more accurate. So I was just in awe of actually reading an incredibly accurate response to seeing your child for the first time. And can we talk about Andy coming into this world on the tails of The Runaways’ Cherry Bomb, because that is fucking incredible and one of my favorite moments of this fic.

I also want to talk about the relationship between Andy and Harry. I had my issues with it at the beginning. I grew up in the same relationship with my mother. It is hard being your parent’s best friend and their child. It is hard for both the parent and the child to know when they’re friends and when the parent has to be the parent. I think there are certainly parts of Harry and Andy’s relationship that are romanticized in this fic, but this is fiction so not everything has to be realistic.

And it’s fine if your mom or dad was your best friend and the relationship was healthy – I just know that it’s hard. But I do think Stylinsoncity did something really incredible here, because you get to see the good and the bad with having a relationship like theirs. You understand the parts when Harry should have been a parent instead of being a friend. At least I saw that, especially in his interactions with Louis. There are times Harry needed to be a parent and put himself and his relationship first. When Harry finally laid it down for Andy and made it known how much he loved Louis, how their relationship had nothing to do with her and that he deserved Louis I was shocked. I reread that scene five times because FINALLY. Finally, Harry believed he deserved to be happy and he was worthy of Louis and I am still emotional thinking about it. This coming right after Andy makes a comment about him having no backbone. I was ready to bake Harry a fucking sparkly ass cake.

Also

Louis. Guys, you know I am a Harry girl through and through – that kid owns me – but I loved this Louis. I wanted him to win. I was smitten as soon as he appeared. I wanted to shake Harry a bit every time he made Louis upset, which is insane for me to be on Louis’ side rather than Harry’s. Those long speeches about how much he loved Harry were too much for my romantic heart to take, oh my god. And declarations of love can get cheesy and predictable and THESE WEREN’T??? They made so much sense, they hit you right in the fucking heart, and I am truly amazed at the talent of this author to deliver such beautiful dialogue.

Stylinsoncity really has perfected every piece of her writing, dialogue, and exposition. I love that even her characters recognize the cheesiness of some moments – like when Harry got a beach ball to the face when he was supposed to be watching Louis discreetly. I just love when characters are that aware.

Okay! And I have never never never never never read a more perfect we have feelings for each other scene than when Louis confronted Harry about where they stood. I mean! Louis wasn’t insecure in the fact that Harry felt something for him and he knew HE KNEW that Harry needed that extra push from him for them to go anywhere. Even after a year of avoiding each other, he knew Harry so well that he wouldn’t let Harry get in his own way. I was dying honestly. Because I’ve read that scene hundreds of times. The scene where there is obviously tension and unsaid words, but it never is talked about and someone leaves thinking maybe they don’t feel the same. But that didn’t happen HERE. Louis made Harry be honest and open in that moment and it was exactly what Harry needed and I was a sobbing mess. The communication was incredible and I am just high off life right now. This fic has really been just a breath of fresh air for me. I am just in awe. Like I need to just take a couple days off from everything and contemplate how this fic was even produced and how lucky I was to read it for free? And Jesus, I can barely think right now.

I also want to talk about Cassie, Andy’s mother. I had so many mixed feelings about Cassie and her relationship with Harry. I don’t know if we’re supposed to feel that way – but I think you end up falling in love with her. By the end of it, I was as head over heels for her as Harry was. I understood why Harry had such a hard time letting her go, because she was incredible. I want to praise Stylinsoncity again for creating this character and giving her so much personality and life and really making her the backbone of this incredible story. When Harry was weak, Cassie was strong and god I think I could read an entire fic on Cassie alone. Andy was also a brilliantly crafted character. Stylinsoncity managed to create two characters who were incredibly complex and alike but also different. You literally see Cassie in Andy, you see Harry in Andy, or you see how she is her own person. It is astonishing to me – the writing ability of this author. I really do plan to reread this fic and it is one that will stick with me for a very long time.

I hope this review does this fic justice, because it truly is amazing. I hope if you haven’t read it that, you give it a chance and I’m sure it’ll resonate with you as well, because there are so many well-developed characters to love. Cassie who wanted to love Harry and Andy but also stay true to herself, Harry who never got the chance to mature completely but loves Andy more than anything and would fight for her every day. Andy a young girl thrust into an impossible situation and trying to manage her family and her budding career, and Louis a man who has been waiting for that one special person for too long and when he finally found them he jumped right into the volcano. There is someone here for anyone to see himself or herself in.

“Picture a bird without wings. Or a ship without a compass.”

Also, thank you for including this bit – I smiled really big.

Blue has already read this fic, so there is no need to recommend it to her.

As always, please stop and give the author plenty of comments and kudos, as feedback is important. I hope that you have enjoyed the review. I’ve linked to the fic and the author at the top.

I’ll have another review up on Sunday – as my work load isn’t too terrible this week.

Thank you all for following and reblogging. We just really want to give the authors the praise they deserve and I know we don’t review many works, but the fics we do review are all really special. We want more than anything for the authors to get the recognition they deserve.

Until Sunday,

Green <3

***EDIT***

between chaos and control

So I was going to post this review last night, but guess what happened. Stylinsoncity decided I wasn’t already having an emotional week (seriously guys I have been crying like every day since Harry walked the carpet at his first premiere) and she posted a companion piece to The Wonderlands FROM LOUIS’ POINT OF VIEW.

Of course it’s beautiful and a much needed glimpse into what Louis was feeling.

“Louis could forge a million excuses with his love.”

HE COULD FORGE A MILLION EXCUSES WITH HIS LOVE.

Okay! I’ve just finished it at work once again. I started it last night but co-sleeping and bright cellphones do not mix. Anyways this was a brilliant companion piece. I wanted more than anything to get a scene of Andy and Louis bonding as family and I have been gifted with just that. I’m not surprised how well they got along – but I’m infinitely happy that they love each other that much. Also Luna, the little ice cream sneaker, and Peter, the amateur FIFA player are perfect additions to the family.

Thank you Stylinsoncity for giving us another glimpse into this amazing world you’ve created. You have easily made your way into being one of my favorite authors. I haven’t read any of your other fics but I will definitely be working my way through them. Thank you so much for sharing your story with us.

#the wonderlands #stylinsoncity #larry fic #larry fic rec #greens rec

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silent-skysplitter-blog · 5 years

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Please read this first!

• I play Lexaeus as I see fit. I try to keep him close to canon, but I do add in some of my own headcanons to him.

• No god-moding! Please do not take control over my muse, unless of course we’ve spoken about it, and plotted something out together first.

• I do NOT tolerate anon hate. Please don’t send it in the first place otherwise it will just be deleted.

• Open to NSFW rps that have to do with such things as gore, violence, torture, abuse, etc though smut will more than likely not be apart of this blog. (Depending on my feelings about the smut rp I may say we can take it to discord, tho I wish to keep this blog smut free).

• As far as triggers go, I cannot stand looking at body horror, mostly with the head/eyes/mouth/teeth/abnormal hole in the body. It makes me cringe and gag and I would prefer not to. I would prefer if there just wasn’t pictures of it on my dashboard. (I am okay with it in rp tho...Just not in vivid detail)

• As for possible triggers that are posted here I will tag my posts accordingly as not to offend my followers or set them off. If I do not tag something and it makes you uncomfortable or is triggering to you, please let me know and I will tag it for you.

• I am very OC friendly and I do enjoy RPing with them. Please feel free to hop in my ask in you are an OC that wants to rp. More often than not I will want to rp with you.

• I’m very open to shipping, though I prefer it to have chemistry. I want Lex to be able to click well with whoever he is being shipped with. This is also a Multiship blog, tho different au’s for any of the ships.

• Please do not reblog my RPs or OOC posts if you are not involved or if you are a personal blog. It makes it hard to keep track of the rp and messes up my feed. But you can like them if you want.

• I am a very friendly mun who is open to any and all rps with Canons and OCs . I’m open to multi-para RPs, script RPs–any kind of RPs. Just hit me up! Whatever you’re most comfortable with!

• I’m also okay with RPs that involve more than two people at a time. Just let me know if someone decides to skip their reply, and so on.

• I’m open to all kinds of rp blogs, and multiples of every character! The more the merrier!

• I really admire everyone I follow, but I am very shy and may be hesitant to respond to/like your starter calls. If you would like to write with me, chances are I may be quietly admiring you from afar, and would die to write with you I’m just very shy most of the time.

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thewyvernsnest-blog · 7 years

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Tips for New GMs #2: Worldbuilding

Worldbuilding is likely the most complicated and difficult thing you will have to do as a Game Master. The players feeling as though they are in a living and breathing fantasy world is essential to the immersion that most tabletop roleplaying games require. In this post, I will give a few simple tips to design your first fantasy world. While these tips are going to be entrenched in the genre of Swords and Sorcery, many of them could apply to other settings as well.

Often I see the suggestion that a new GM should run a game out of a pre-built module; this assertion should come with one major caveat: be sure to know the lore of the setting the module takes place in. Forgotten Realms may be a fairly generic fantasy setting, but it still has plenty of lore. Creating your own, simple, world will ensure that you have mastery over its lore and layout.

Part 1 - Lore and Religion

As excited as you may be to create your own Silmarillion, even the most devout of players are likely going to be unwilling to read through pages of lore. Have simple explanations for things such as magic, the world’s creation, and any mainstay monsters you may create or use from a published bestiary. Keep as much of this out of the realm of common knowledge as possible, and instead gradually parse out this information as the campaign progresses. Learning new things about the world their characters inhabit often excites players, so don’t spoil everything before the campaign even starts.

Religion is an item you are free to handle however you would like in a game, but I do have a suggestion: make your gods distant and abstract. The more distant and mysterious the gods are the cooler they often become. This also adds a huge boost of interest for any character who receives power from a divine source. The number of gods are not important; you could make the entire world full of monotheists who worship different aspects of the same god, or something more akin to the Greek Pantheon, where many gods rule over the realm of humanity. Regardless of your choice, NEVER have your gods physically manifest and kick ass on your world’s surface. Keep divine intervention in the realm of the abstract and to a minimum since it robs agency from the players.

Part 2 - Races

Try to limit the playable races to about 4 or 5 total for your first world (this includes human). Keeping this number relatively small allows you to keep the world relatively grounded. Each race should have roughly one or two schticks that players can develop further as they create their characters. The classical elves and dwarves of Tolkien origin are perfect examples of races that work well for player characters; elves are nature loving and magical while dwarves are industrial, prideful warriors. Neither of these concepts are extremely specific, but both work well as baselines for creating a character’s personality. Much like your campaign story, try to keep your races simple enough that you can describe them in a single sentence with no difficulty.

If you are playing a game with a lot of statistics, then avoid creating your own races from the ground up. Instead you could always reskin a current race without messing with their statistics. An example of this could be if you are playing Pathfinder and want to have a race of savage, wolf people. You could decide to reskin the Half-Orc player race and instead make them “Skolls,” a dreaded wolf headed race that keeps fighting despite their mortal wounds (hence the “ferocity” ability). With just a simple tweak in the fluff you created a race that is far more memorable than just another half-orc.

Part 3 - Geography

The lay of the land will always have a huge effect on games. Sometimes simply tweaking the biosphere completely changes the kinds of characters and monsters that will be present in your world. For this reason, always be sure to know what kind of game you want to create before you select a biome to set it in. Drawing inspiration from visual art forms is essential for this part, because your players will inevitably want you to show them some pictures that represent the land they will be in. Video games work extremely well for this, as there is often no shortage of concept art or screenshots you can use to orient the players. I did exactly this for my most recent campaign set in the Frozen North of my world by using Skyrim as my chief source of inspiration.

You only need to develop one small part of your world in detail for your first campaign. While globe-trotting adventures are fun in theory, they create a lot of work for the Game Master and the players alike, so for your first campaign keep it confined to relatively one small area. Within this small area, there should be a town or village that serves as the player’s main base of operations for them to return to and recharge after each harrowing adventure. Limiting your area of play allows you to inject plenty of detail into that one spot so that it feels very vivid and real, as opposed to stretching yourself incredibly thin over the expanse of an entire continent.

Part 4 - Sources of Evil

Every monster in the published bestiaries for games always seems to have its own unique origin story. This is cool and fun in many respects, but for worldbuilding it creates problems for new GMs. Including all of these origins in your game world can make it feel convoluted very quickly. For this reason, I encourage new GMs to have only a handful of sources of evil in their world; meaning that, all the bad monsters come from only a couple of different origins.

A good example of an origin that I use in many of my worlds is taken straight from Greek Mythology: Echidna, the Mother of Monsters. Instead of coming up with a different source for every magical beast, dragon, monstrous humanoid, and aberration, I simply made it so that all of their predecessors came from the evil Mother of Monsters who is hell-bent on striking at the gods through their precious creations (the playable races). This streamlines your lore significantly, and introduces an interesting element to your game world.

New GMs may feel pressured into including all of the different monsters from the published books in their system, but trust me when I say you will only need a few handfuls to make your world feel mystical and threatening. Still, what if you want to include wraiths in your world but don’t want to have a “Shadow Plane” which is their supposed origin according to the published bestiary? The answer is simple: you ignore that fluff and create something different that suits your world while simultaneously keeping the statblock for the monster.

Part 5 - Level of Magic

One of the most fundamental questions a GM must ask themselves is: how common is magic in my world? This is the most advanced tip on this list and I will certainly discuss it more in other posts, because their is no real correct answer. The only thing that is essential is that you know exactly how common magic is before the campaign starts. If you decide you want magic to be a rare and mystical thing, then any players that have characters who can use magic will be viewed in a specific way by your NPCs. If magic is incredibly common then things like drought, disease, or even death may be treated as far more trivial in your world than in the real world. The level of magic should also be taken into consideration when handing out rewards to the player characters, as magic weapons may be far more rare in a world with low magic as opposed to one with common magic

#Worldbuilding #Dungeons and Dragons #D&D #Pathfinder #Fantasy #Tips for New GMs #New GMs #Gamemaster #tabletop #roleplaying #roleplaying games #tabletoptoolbox

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