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nickeverdeen · 4 months

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hello! I really enjoy reading ur work, so I’m wondering if I could request a TUA (the umbrella academy) preference where the reader confesses their feelings during an argument (they aren’t dating yet) no pressure ofc <3 thank u sm for being a good writer!!

Thanks for requesting!!! And thanks for those words, I might be slower at writing considering I have school tests everyday, well I mean I’m in law school so what was I expecting-

Anyway, thanks a lot for everything 🫶

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Confessing your feelings to Umbrella Academy members during an argument

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TW: Cussing, mention of injury, drugs, sometimes cliché

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You = white text

Luther = blue text

Diego = red text

Allison = pink text

Klaus = orange text

Five = green text

Ben = also green text, but cursive (‘cause I’m running out of colors)

Viktor = purple text

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Luther Hargreeves

This takes place in season 1

The argument was pretty simple

You just wanted him to shut up for like 5 seconds about the moon and stop defending Reginald and digging into his death

You two were currently standing in the “meeting room” in the Umbrella Academy along with others discussing how Reginald died. Sure you weren’t part of this family, but you were invited anyway. Why you had no idea, maybe ‘cause you were a family friend?

“Jesus Christ Luther, stop digging into it so much. It was a heartattack, calm down” you rolled your eyes sighing as you agreed along with others that Reginald died of a heart attack.

“Oh so you’re on their side now? Even my best friend, great” he chuckled at the irony rolling his eyes. “Well I wonder why” Diego sneered. Soon the whole room started arguing about it, you’ve had enough of this. They were adults so they should act like it

Standing up from your seat you shook your head whistling which only caught Viktor’s and Allison’s attention… not what you wanted.

“Shut the fuck up!” You finally yelled and they all grew silent except for Diego who insulted his brother and you before storming off. “We’re all adults yet you all act like kids. Get your shit together” you sighed frustrated.

With that Luther got up and took few steps towards you “You don’t have a say in this. Dad was murdured, and last time I checked I was on the Moon to-“ Luther started but got cut off by you

“Luther, for the love of god, as much as I love you, shut up about the Moon and stop defending him” You rolled your eyes making Viktor raise his eyebrows suprised

Luther stood there kidna offended at first before realizing what you said “Wait what?” You just cussed under your breath. This is gonna be a long day.

At first Allison was kidna jealous for sure, but slowly joined Klaus with sometimes teasing you. You had a lot of explaining to do.

Diego Hargreeves

This takes place in season 2

Along woth others you had enough of Diego thinking about J. F. Keneddy 24/7

It was another night at Elliot’s and here you were, sitting in a corner across the room from Diego with Five between the two of you. You all were watching a tape Hazel gave Five before dying, a man on a grassfield was standing there when the president is getting shot.

To be honest you rightfully along with Lila who was sitting near you had no idea who this is unlike the two boys who seemed shocked at it

“Uh guys? Wanna also tell us who that is?” You asked awkwardly with Lila nodding slightly only to hear a whisper “dad” escape their mouths at the same time.

“Do you see this? That’s dad and he is the one who killed the president” Diego turned to you with a serious expression “Oh here we go” You rolled your eyes crossing your arms. “How can you know for sure that it was him? It doesn’t look like he’s holding a gun” you just shrugged leaving Diego frowning

“Do you even listen to me? That’s a proof that he is the killer!” Diego stood up pacing around the room

“And you know that how? He-“ you get cut off as he looks at you sharply, if you didn’t know him you’d think he’s crazy

“Take it easy, Diego” Five said calmly trying to ease the situation, but of course it didn’t help. “He is the killer! Don’t you hear me?! The evidence is right here!” Diego yells at you pointing at the tape

“Oh for fuck’s sake, you don’t wanna tell me that I fell for a madman” You scoffed crossing your arms taking a step towards him and he took a small step back as he processed what you said

“Well that’s an awkward silence” Lila said chuckling slightly, but none of you spoke until Five told you both that there’s no time for these things right now and you both followed him out to wherever you guys are going

“We’re not done with this conversation” Diego said, but not so agressively, more calmly yet of course not softly as it ain’t in his nature.

Allison Hargreeves

This takes place in season 3

You were starting to get really annoyed with her, but when you caught her trying to rumor herself in the mirror to be happy you couldn’t be angry or upset with her at that moment

You and other Hargreeves siblings were just miding your own businesses, but you did notice that Allison was missing. At first you didn’t make a big deal out of it, she was being really annoying, but still that didn’t mean that you didn’t care about her. You were on this crazy Hargreeves rollecoster since the very beggining and they were all very dear to you.

So here you were looking through the whole hotel for her, you were starting to give up before you heard a glass break in the bathroom.

Slowly you stepped in and that’s when you witnessed it. “I heard a rumor that you were happy” Allison said trying to rumor herself through the mirror you weren’t sure if it’d work, but you sure as hell were concerned by now, you were aware that she had a hard time, but this was really bad.

“Allison?” You stepped in properly after seeing that it doesn’t work

Allison slightly jumped at the sudden voice, she didn’t need to turn around to know that it’s you “What do you want?”

Her words were sharp, but you tried to ignore the feeling and took few steps closer, your eyes inspecting her bloody hand from the distance. “Are you okay…?” You asked slowly unsure if she wants to open up

She just scoffed rolling her eyes as she faced you “Since when do you care?” You didn’t like this defensive side of her, but you knew that loving her means loving her even at her worst

“I always cared, Al-“ getting cut off Allison stood up properly frowning “No you didn’t. You don’t care that Claire’s dead, you don’t care that both my husbands are dead! You don’t care at all!”

She shouted obviously getting irritated by your words even though they were honest. “Allison that’s not true!” You tried to argue back “I care about you and mainly your wellbeing! You need help-“ “I don’t need help! Now get out!” She cut you off once again taking few steps towards you, but you didn’t really take any steps back and stood your ground

“Yes you do! You’re even rumoring yourself to be happy! You’re not alright at all!” You took a deep breath taking few steps towards her as well “Just let me help you!” You looked up at her, but she wasn’t calming down any time soon and you knew that. “And why would you want that?! To impress others with your comforting skills?! Make me feel even worse?!”

She shouted, she knew damn well that she doesn’t mean it and knew that she’s being a bitch right now, but she couldn’t stop. She was hiding her pain and anger deep down inside of her for too long and even though she didn’t want to, she just had to let it out on you. Not ‘cause she wanted to, but ‘cause you were closest and she knew you’d forgive her overtime, plus you understood her and she just had to let everything out despite knowing it’s not heathly for neither of you.

“No! Of course not! Allison I love you and don’t want you to suffer! Please…”

You were more calm at the end, but got confused when she shut up and just stared at you in shock before it hit you that you just confessed

“What?” She asked blinking in confusion, but also a neutral voice “Allison… I love you” you repeated making sure she knows you don’t mean just as friends

“Please don’t… I’ll just lose you too. Stop” she mumbled shaking her head, she couldn’t take another loss

“You won’t lose me” you stood up on your tip-toes and kissed her just shortly and slightly of course, you didn’t wanna scare her. “Now let me help you with your hand” you took her bloody hand and started tending it knowing that Allison isn’t ready for a relationship just yet so you didn’t expect her to say it back right now, but you knew that she did love you.

Klaus Hargreeves

This takes place in season 1

You catch Klaus stealing in the Academy from his father on the funeral day

“Klaus? Wha- what are you doing?” You laughed seeing him under his father’s table where Reginald kept all his work

“Oh Y/N! How nice it is to see youuuuu” He sounded high and he probably was, but then again he had every reason to get high, but that doesn’t mean you approved of it

Klaus quickly reached for a hug which you with a sigh accepted “Klaus you’re high again” you crossed your arms rolling your eyes. “We talked about this”

“But those bitches are everywhere and it’s just so much better” he smiled amd you had to chuckle at his silliness “Give me the drugs” you held out your hand raising eyebrows “Oh you want it too????”

He asked and gave it to you and you just threw it out of the window “What’re you doing?!” He exclaimed with wide eyes “Helping you. Now go wash your face.”

You said clearly pissed off by his behaivor “Y/n! I need those!!!” He whined making you roll your eyes “No, you don’t. You need therapy, along with this whole family of yours” you stated clearly

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…” He whined “You don’t understand what I’m going through when I’m clean!” He suddenly yelled at you making you raise your eyebrows

“No Klaus, you don’t understand what I’m going through when I see the man I love somewhere begging for drugs instead of trying to get a real help!”

You argued back, but he stopped “What?”

Five Hargreeves

This takes place in season 3

You both didn’t pick the same side when Reginald asked you all who’s for saving the world and who’s against it - you voted for saving the world while he didn’t

“Are you serious?” You looked at Five frowning confused as he stood on the other side. “Five, after all this time of trying to save the world you’re just gonna give up on the only chance we have ‘cause your older you told you so?”

You scoffed shaking your head and he frowned stepping closer to you “Y/N I am doing the right thing. Right, we’ve been trying to save the world this whole time and did we manage to change something? Nein! It’s over and over the same” Five frowned stepping closer to you

Unaware of the small distance between you two you stepped closer too and looked down at him “I’m not just gonna sit here and wait for the world to end with a boy I fell for and see him die. Five just come on and try this! One more time”

You sighed and tried to plea him, but to no vail as he didn’t budge “”Boy I love”? Please don’t bring that cocky shit-” “Maybe we should all calm down, alright?” Viktor tried to diescelate the situation, but failed as you and Five ignored him and kept arguing.

“You think you’re always right, hm? You are a child, you-” However you cut him off with a sneer “A child? That’s rich coming from you” Five took a deep breath and looked up at you his height making it impossible for him to look you straight in the eyes without looking up. “Y/N I love you, but you’re starting to seriously piss me off-“ He shut up as you all realized that another wave of Kugablitz is coming and had to run. Sure you two were gonna have to sort things out

Ben Hargreeves

This takes place in season 2

He got angry ‘cause you keep diapproving of him possesing Klaus’ body

(Btw Y/N can see Ben here)

“Am I talking to Ben or Klaus?” You asked annoyed not seeing Ben anywhere so you just assumed that he posessed Klaus’ body which was sitting on the floor

“Hey Y/N! It’s Ben! God I’m so glad you came I couldn’t find you at the courtyard” he got up and hugged you tightly, but you could still feel that it’s Klaus’ body which wasn’t ideal at all. You didn’t like it and you were over this conversation many times

“Ben… you do realize that I can see you just like Klaus can, right?” You sighed shaking your head in disapproval “But it’s not the same! In a body-“ he starts but you just cut him off

“In any body I can’t see you, but the person whose body it is, Ben” you sighed shaking your head “But Y/N, you don’t understand… being ghost.. it’s as if I’m nothing” He took few steps closer to you, but you just backed up

“Y/N, please just listen… you don’t know what it’s like!” Suddenly he snaps. That’s very out of character of him. “God, Ben. You don’t get it do you?! I don’t love the body you are in, I love you when you’re yourself, Ben!”

You shook your head frowning and andead silence falls in the room and you soon hear him parting from Klaus’ body

“Aw man, I feel like I’ll throw up” Klaus moans and backs up. You ignore him whimpering and just focus on Ben who’s too stunned to speak.

It’s gonna be a long day…

Viktor Hargreeves

This takes place in season 2

Y/N is helping Five look for others so they’d get them all to the suitcase in time, but Viktor insists to go back for Sissy and Harlan

You kept driving around couple of blocks looking for your best friend - Viktor - literally everywhere

Driving on a road leading away from Sissy’s farm you were slowly losing all hope, but for Viktor’s sake and your mental stability’s sake you kept going, you had to find him.

Driving away you saw another car passing by you and Viktor in it. Immediately you stopped in a way that your car - well a stolen car that you claim to be yours - died. Viktor on the other hand stopped slowly

“Viktor? Thank God, where were you?!” You were quick to hug him before he even had a chance to get out of the car properly

“Jesus! Y/N what are you doing here?” Obviously strandled a bit Viktor pulled away and rubbed your shoulder a bit “What’s going on?”

“Five found a way to get back home! No apocalypse or anything like that, we can go back!” You quickly explained and started walking towards your car, but stopped when you realized he wasn’t following “Viktor?” He shifted in his place thinking “I hate to tell you this, but we only have fifteen minutes-“ you started, but he cut you off

“I’m taking Sissy and Harlan” Viktor practically stated “What? Viktor you can’t do that, their disappearance could have major concequences” you shook your head looking back at your watch. 13 minutes.

“What consequences would it create if we’d just take a farm boy and woman with us?” Viktor obviously had enough and he headed back to his car “We don’t have time for that Viktor!” You pulled him by his arm back and he only snatched it away “Viktor don’t” you warned him shaking your head, true you don’t have powers, but he doesn’t have to know that

“What’s so wrong about this? I love Sissy and am not leaving her!” You knew he did. He loves Sissy, but you kidna were in denial. “What?” He looked at you still angry, but more confused now that you’re silent. 2 minutes.

“Sissy isn’t the only one who loves you, you idiot” you said and got into your car, but Viktor stopped you by your hand

“What?”

#request #preferences #the umbrella academy #luther hargreeves x reader #diego hargreaves x reader #allison hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #viktor hargreeves x reader #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #viktor hargreeves

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simiansmoke · 10 months

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✱ + reverse + mario?

sentence / drabbles - manhandle

✱ - take my muse by the hips to carefully move them out of their way + reversed

When Mario showed up in the Jungle Kingdom to pay the Kong champion's Dad a visit on an errand from Peach to apparently collect some ingredients for her upcoming "tea" ceremony, DK knew he was in for some fun.

Before Cranky could even consider granting the twerp access to the deep valves that made up the heart of the jungle where such a specific species of nightshade bloomed only once for a few days during the tail end of the dry season, DK had shifted from his position of leaning against the doorframe and listening in and instead, paced into the room without Mario noticing until he'd clapped a hand on the Mushroom Kingdom's fetch and delivery boy. "Ehh, let the guards sleep in, Pops. I got this ~ "

While Cranky didn't seem to have any objections (rather he was more amazed his son was volunteering for anything kingdom business related) Mario piped up with a "U-uhm. Well that's nice of you DK, but seeing as you're probably busy with all the...princely things? I think I should really just use a regular jungle guide for this-"

"Nope!" DK grinned, already scooping Mario up under his arm like one might carry a smallish dog. "You're stuck with me. Lucky you!"

And like that, his plan to get some sweet jungle platforming in came to fruition. After all, the deeper the jungle got - the more exciting the path forward became. Or in Mario's case, the more of a struggle he'd have to put up just to not drop out of the canopy into some piranha plant's waiting maw.

"C'mon, dude. You're gonna do this on the first platform?" DK tsked behind Mario who had frozen at the ledge of their first jumping off point. The ground was grooved banyan roots and made moving across them a whole ass tripping hazard.

"Hey! I don't recall specifically asking for you to come along. So...deal with it! I'm thinking." He adds, glove clapped to his chin as his eyes were set on a swivel to observe the great gap and the false sense of ground stretching out before them in the form of tree tops and wide-reaching branches that filled in the suspended environment and peppered it with spiked vines and random pops of color in the form of vibrant petals.

Foot tapping impatiently, DK snorts at the other's indignant nature. It was fun watching him get knocked down a peg when he realized there was more to navigating a landscape than those cut and dry obstacle courses over at Peach's place. With his eyes rolling, DK sidled up behind Mario and instead of slapping him out of the way, placed his large hands on each hip in order to lift him and set him aside so that he could take his place on the edge.

Mario was still so deep in thought he didn't quite register what had happened right away until he noticed DK's hands still cupping his hips as he placed him aside and how they lingered just a few extra seconds needed for Mario's face to flush warm - though whether or not that was because he was embarrassed he hadn't figured the puzzle out sooner, or because the Kong's fingertips left hints of wrinkles in the denim.

"Let a pro show you how it's done." DK moved to all fours and with a sudden surge of power, sprung into the air over their platform and grabbed hold of the upturned bark of a large trunk that made a sort of ceiling over them and then angled sharply up into the higher levels of the canopy. Hanging in place with his legs swinging almost playfully, DK beckoned the plumber over with a toss of his head.

"Lesson 1. Sometimes - there's no way forward." Another sway allows him to swing forward just enough to use his feet to grab onto Mario's hips again, some toes looping into denim loop holes for a better grip. "Lesson 2...hang on or I'll drop you."

"Why do I feel like Lesson 2 is intentionally rigged against me?" Mario protested, but was soon being ferried up the near 90 degree angle climb up the moss and fungi ridden trunk of the sequoia sized stretch.

"Because you're halfway paranoid...and halfway right." DK added, grinning up at the skyline he climbed to when he heard a nervous sputter from underneath.

#//i need some more practice drabbles with mario B)#long post #dkdrabbles #donkario #donkey kong #mario x donkey kong #donkey kong x mario

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loversgothic · 9 months

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What's princess tutu??

OH BOY YOUVE OPENED THE FLOOD GATES NOW LET ME TELL U ABT MY FAVORITE SHOW, PRINCESS TUTU (take 2 bc i lost my old writing abt this.)

I think it’s a bit funny this is one of my OTHER obsessions other than Ultrakill considering how different they are, but eh. I can’t guarantee this will be everyone’s cup of tea.

Princess Tutu is an anime released in 2002 (it had its 20 year anniversary recently :D) and is somewhat well-known (but also kinda not..) among fans of mahou shoujo. It has only two seasons and is one of my favorite animes ever. It also has a manga series that was released I think alongside it however its story is different from the anime and I hear it isn’t as good as the anime. While it is not action-packed or full of bright colors it tells a story that resonates with me so deeply and made me rethink what makes a good story. It has a very soft and delicate look to it, and while it can get very fucking dark it can be very sweet and cute. It also inspired my love of ballet and returned a love of classical music to me that I had lost, and is what inspired my Ultradanse AU in MANY fucking ways. My partner Valentine is the one who showed it to me and it changed me fundamentally, and I showed it to Dex and it ruined his life (positively). So now I hope by dumping about this, it interests you in watching it!

VERY LONG WRITING UNDER THE CUT. I AM SO SORRY.

The story follows the heroine Duck, and three other characters named Fakir, Rue and Mytho. It takes place in Gold Crown Town, a place where fairytales become reality. However, Gold Crown Town is only like this because it is under the influence of Drosselmeyer, an author of immense power who died before he could finish writing his story The Prince and the Raven and is now using the town and its residents to orchestrate his story to give it a conclusion.The Prince and the Raven from the book escape their story and come into reality, and to seal the Raven away he shatters his heart into shards that scatter themselves across the town. He succeeds, but the Prince is now without emotion or feeling, barely able to think for himself. He now studies dance at Gold Crown Academy, where the other three main characters study as well.

Drosselmeyer has given the main four different character roles, each one meant to end in their demise or a tragic end. They’re meant to play the roles, submit to the fate of the character, and fully believe that they were that character from the beginning even if that wasn’t true. Drosselmeyer may or may not have influenced and altered their histories and memories, and probably altered their feelings as well so it can be brought into question how much is under Drosselmeyer’s influences.

Drosselmeyer wants this story to end in tragedy, to end in sadness, as to him that would be the best ending. The characters within it though are very complex people, and rather than to succumb to their fates, everyone is trying to escape it. Princess Tutu plays a lot with defying destiny.

Duck plays the role of Princess Tutu. While the title of the role she plays is the title of the series, in Drosselmeyer’s story and in his plans, Princess Tutu is a minor character who is only meant to return the Prince’s heart shards to him, confess her love and then immediately die. It’s a cruel fate, as Duck wants nothing more than to do the right thing and help the prince and others by returning his shards to him where they belong so he may feel and think for himself again. Being Princess Tutu is conflicting for her, because it doesn’t just affect her fate and others but if she wasn’t Princess Tutu she would no longer be able to dance so exquisitely as she wants. Not being Princess Tutu means a lot of things for her, it also means she could forfeit her ability to be a girl. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention? Duck is not even a human girl. She was born a duck and ends the story as a duck. She’s not particularly skilled in much and isn’t very special at all. And yet, what makes her so great is her kindness and resilience. You don’t have to be particularly skilled or perfect at anything to change things or be loved, it’s okay to be average or “just a duck.” It’s fine to be flawed, you can still move someone's heart and change your fate.

Rue plays the role of Princess Kraehe, I don’t think I can really call her an antagonist as she isn’t really one to me. Princess Kraehe is the daughter of the Raven, and she desires the prince and actively works against Princess Tutu to stop him from regaining his heart shards, or just to mess with the process and use it to further her goals. However, Rue makes me SO FUCKING SAD. The Raven leads Rue to believe Mytho is the only one who’d be able to love someone as ugly as her, and only believes she is ugly because she is human in appearance instead of a bird. He gives her this insecurity and desperation that makes her easy to manipulate as he plans to “help” her secure the prince for herself. But she really does love Mytho, and has loved him for all her life. I wish I could go on and on about her, she’s one of my favorite characters ever and she makes me CRY. SHEEE ONLY WANTED TO BE LOVED THATS ALL SHE WANTED AAGGHGHHH

Fakir plays the role of the Prince’s knight, and while I thought he was the antagonist when I first watched the way he develops over the course of the story really makes that idea fade fast. Hell, I even forgot I hated him when I first watched, and now he’s on my top 10 favorite emo boys. He seems like a total dickweed at first and has some.. Kinda vaguely gay scenes with Mytho at the beginning, but he’s far more than that. He admires Mytho and when he was younger, swore he wanted to be Mytho’s knight to protect him, and doesn’t want Mytho to get hurt. Having emotions means he’s susceptible to getting hurt, but there’s more to that. Fakir, playing the role of the knight and believing in his fate, he fears that fate and what is to befall him. Similar to Princess Tutu, he is also destined to die, to be sliced through the chest in battle. He was even born with a birthmark that resembles a scar across his chest. If Mytho has his heart shards returned to him, the story goes into motion, and the closer he gets to his fate. He wants to protect Mytho and keep him safe, but he also doesn’t want to die.While everyone plays a very important role in the story’s finale, he plays a very big one howweeever I don’t wanna spoil what that is or some abilities he has. :]

Mytho, my dear sweet boy and his fucked up haircut, is the prince. He doesn’t play a role, he IS the prince from the story. He exists as this heroic figure that is meant to be perfect, and he has a desire to protect and save others. For most of the story though he lacks his emotions and gains them back slowly, but kinda just gets get pushed and dragged around by Rue and Fakir who are both, for different selfish kinds of love and in different ways, keep him from regaining feelings and dictating what he does. Maybe I’m silly for this interpretation, but he is kind of used like a tool or a doll sometimes rather than a person. Regaining his emotions can hurt him in more ways than one and yet he still wants all of his emotions back. He kind of goes from holding no opinions or thoughts of his own at all to forming ones can be conflicting in the moment. He also gets hurt when Kraehe taints a heart shard with raven’s blood which gives him a touch of evil and flaws he did not begin with. I don’t think he gets the same amount of a transformation of character as the other three, but in the end when his emotions are regained he becomes a bit of an imperfect prince.

I love the characters, a lot. A totally normal amount. BUT. I gotta say, Princess Tutu has some of the prettiest but also the coolest scenes, and they’re good art inspiration for me. I really gotta go out of my way to clip my favorite things, because some of my favorite things haven’t been clipped and put on Youtube somewhere. Here’s some gifs from the series that I like

okay thanks for hearing me ramble have a nice day

#long post #ask #thank you for letting me ramble i am so normal #watch princess tutu Do it for me #i did not explain it the best the show speaks for itself better.#i probably make it sound more lame than it actually is

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kaaytea · 2 years

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hi kay hello hello!! can i request a miyuki fic where he goes to an amusement part (or disneyland, whichever u can relate more to or whichever would be easier to write) with his girlfriend on a date and they do just simple cute stuff or something like that?!??!!

'Magic' Moment

Warnings: female reader, I don't think I used any pronouns so technically could be gn reader, I've never been to Tokyo Disney, not edited...I'm just going off of my general knowledge for this one

A/n: Fun fact, I am a Disney parks fiend (and I'm actually in the car to visit one rn 🤭) I'm sorry this took so long, dear. I hope it's what you're looking for <3

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One of the few perks of being with a pro baseball player is being gifted tickets to Tokyo Disney. Mind you, it doesn't happen often because of how tight Kazuya's team's schedule is, but every once in awhile, during particularly rough off-seasons, management would pay for the player's and their families admission to the park.

When he first signed onto his team, this wasn't something Kazuya would take advantage of, but when you came into the picture and insisted he enjoy a day off, he couldn't refuse. It's become sort of a tradition now; every time tickets are offered, Kazuya takes them.

Kazuya never really understood the appeal of the "Disney experience" (as you called it) but you loved being enveloped by it—gushing on and on about the twinkling music and exciting sights and tastes around the park. Seeing you so happy resulted in Kazuya feeding off of your joy; even if he didn't fully understand it, he found that it was an enjoyable experience with you by his side.

"Hurry, before the fireworks end!" You called over your shoulder. You were a few paces in front of Miyuki, paving a way to your destination by weaving in and out of the crowds.

"I'm right behind you," Miyuki assured. He snuck a glance at his watch as he side stepped to avoid ramming into a stroller. "We still have a few minutes until they start."

You slowed your pace to grab ahold of your partner's hand; getting separated in the hoards of people migrating to watch the fireworks would setback your plans. Kazuya linked his fingers with yours, giving a light squeeze in confirmation that he was with you.

"I know, but we have a small window of time where the carousel is 'child-free'," You stated. Your walking came to a halt at the corner of a street to let an elderly couple and their grandchild cross in front of you. You looked at Kazuya on your left. His face was lit with the warm light flooding out from the confectionary shop on the corner you stopped at, but what would have been an etheral view was soiled by the amused smirk spreading across his face.

"What's that look for?"

Miyuki breathed out a laugh and started leading the two of you forward, as you had continued to stare at him.

"You're always so worried about making it to the carousel—and stop pouting," he said, poking at your cheek with his free hand. "We always make it in time; you have this down to a science by now."

You grined at the praise of your planning. There wasn't much you were organized with, but when it came to carving out a special day like this, you were outstandingly efficient.

You were going to gloat about getting praised by Japan's most meticulous catchers, but the chiming of music fluttered through your ears and sapped whatever words that had been on your tongue. The music pulled your attention to your destination, a pavilion covered in glitzy lights and warm, inviting colors, circled by pure white steeds: the carousel.

Your heart internally squealed in exciment as you pulled Miyuki towards the attraction, he followed close behind you—half afraid that you'd rip his arm from it's socket if he refused—and shook his head at your childishness.

The music and glow wrapped around you like a warm hug when you entered the beginning of the queue for the ride. There wasn't a line at all, infact, there were only a few people on the ride, as most of the guests had rushed off towards the castle to watch the fireworks show.

Your planning had, once again, proven true.

The pair of you waited patiently at the entrance of the ride. Miyuki's thumb brushed against your knuckles intermittently as you stalked the spinning circle of horses like a cat.

Eventually the ride came to a stop and the few attendees started filing off from the direction of the cast members posted around the gated area. Once the previous occupants were safely off, one of the cast members walked over to where you were both waiting.

The carousel attendant, a young man just about college age, greeted the pair of you with a smile as he reached to unlatch the gate door, only to do a double take at your boyfriend. The young man's eyes lit up in realization of who was standing in front of him.

Kazuya just smiled and gave a practiced 'hello' to the obvious fan. The man stumbled out a response before turning to address you as well.

The attention Kazuya drew in public took some getting used to when you first started dating. People were generally polite, but the staring and hushed whispers would still eat away at you patience; there was no blending in when with Kazuya. He had been dead set on keeping your relationship private, which it still was fairly reserved, but it quickly became apparent that keeping it a secret entirely would have ended the relationship as quick as it started.

You gave the young man a small wave and cheery smile as he opened the gate for the two of you. You had only gotten a few steps in before he asked if you'd like him to run the ride twice for you and Kazuya. You immediately said yes and thanked him before hurrying off to find the horse you always chose. Miyuki followed you, not before expressing his thanks and slipping the kid a quick signature.

Miyuki found you sitting happily on a white, gold, and powder blue painted horse, swinging your feet happily as you waited for him to take his spot on the white, armor clad steed besides yours. Not long after the both of you settled down, the ride softly lurched forward and started it's revolution around it's set course. You grasped onto the gold pole securing your horse in place as it eased up and down, making it feel like the horse was even more alive.

You looked out in wonder at the park. The illuminated buildings and stores cut gently through the inky black surroundings; the lights pooled onto the pavement like puddles of milled gold and flickered off of the bundles of balloons still being sold on the sides of shops. You could still smell the toasty, sugary scent of the caramel apples being produced at the confectionary shop you passed every time the ride circled by its street.

You tore your eyes from the fantasy land before you and looked over to the man sitting beside you.

Miyuki continued watching you, his head resting gently against his hand holding onto the golden pole of his steed.

"Happy?"

"Always," you answered. You smoothed your fingers down the cool metal of the ride, "We just need one more thing before our night is perfect."

As if on cue, there was a loud pop! in the distance, followed by a sunburst of colorful light. The both of you looked off in the direction of the firework show before it was hidden by the center of the ride and reappeared when you turned the corner again.

"Perfectly timed, as always," Kazuya mused.

You hummed in wonder as you watched the prism of colors flitter in the sky above the elaborate castle in the distance. Silently, you reached out one of your hands and Kazuya's instantly met it halfway. His hands were warm, rough and dwarfed your own, but he still clasped your's securely as you continued to get lost in the atmosphere and each other's company.

#kayquests #miyuki kazuya #miyuki kazuya x reader #miyuki kazuya imagine #miyuki kazuya scenarios #daiya no ace #daiya no ace x reader #ace of the diamond x reader #diamond no ace x reader #ace of the diamond #diamond no ace

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xxswagcorexx · 1 year

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tumblr user xxswagcorexx why do you insist on hiding away half your analyses/ramblings in the tags of your posts speak ur truth!!! anyway talk mythology andor symbolism to me whats the significance behind red's cult eating honey? do either of them get any items of power mixed up sometimes but just go whoops and move on like its no big deal? what would an outsider pov on this mess look like "ah that pair of lunatic gods again" bc this is sooo funny to me to imagine

i am . scared of everyone (and plus i don't wanna make the post too long and tags let me ramble without worrying abt length/mention small things without feeling like i need to format it properly ^_^

and uh abt the honey thing. this is where u can see this is Really inspired by greek mythology but basically in greek mythology, honey was seen as food of the gods and would provide gods immortality and whatnot ^_^ anyways i was like "hmmmmmm reddoons core" but also it just really works well. aesthetically for him

(AND GET READY FOR A LONG RAMBLE UNDER THE CUT)

anyways on the topic of the honey thing, i tend to associate red with gold because 1) money and 2) red and gold are a really classic color combo that i love, so honey (sorta) resembling molten gold is just. really aesthetically pleasing to me

and also iirc red wanted to make the byzantine empire in earthbound season 2? and when i came across a video on how to make byzantine honey fritters by tasting history with max miller i was like "omg reddoons core"--and from the video it seems like honey was a bit of a special dessert? in 6:33 of the video, there's a poem about a monk complaining about how the abbots have it a lot better than the monks and they mention that the abbots had 2nd helping of honey fritters so yeah i think its safe to assume honey was a semi-special thing, even if it was common. so uh. yeah. money and reddoons. thumbs up

and for the longest time i have associated bees and honey by rina sawayama with. swagdoons in general and the entire song is about how much the singer loves money and partying even if they're broke as shit LMAO its such a good bop if you like pop i recommend it . anyways ya that just added to the aesthetic in general

(as u can tell most of it was based off of vibes and plus in biased because i like how. warm milk and honey taste and plus i really like the idea of milk being something nurturing and honey being something sweet that is representative of love bc ur being sweet and easing someone into something so. Yeah. just vibes but how i figure out vibes are so specific that its worth explaining i think <- loves romanticizing the mundane) (and there's a sick ass line from the end poem like that) (like "And the player was a new human, never alive before, made from nothing but milk and love. You are the player. The story. The program. The human. Made from nothing but milk and love." come ON that line fucks so hard how couldn't i love it)

anyways i think with all of that in mind, red's cult would eat honey as a sign of wealth and comfort/nurturing 4 those reasons ^_^ (i am so sorry for all of that for explaining that i just have lots of Reasons to why i feel something sometimes)

WILDLY OFF TOPIC but u also asked abt items of power getting mixed up, i think it would happen most during worship </3 i think they'd just go to each other and be like "REDDOONS one of your cult members sacrificed blood as a loyalty pact to their partner instead of WAR again. u want it" and red would either let ash keep it or take it so uh. insert them sharing their power with each other here even though their values are usually on increasing ur ego and being on top of the world (CONSIDERING THIS FANDOM LOVES THEMES OF LOYALTY IN A GAY GAY HOMOSEXUAL WAY) (SEE WHY I DDNT WANT THEM COMING FROM ANOTHER GOD OR MERGING INTO 1 GOD) (THE IMPLICATIONS ARENT GOOD)

anyways i think ash and red (as gods) and their cults are pretty well known (like how swagdoons r the 2nd most popular ls ship) but LORD if their myths got lost to time they'd be a nightmare to study via texts and scripts in the future. like i can imagine for the LONGEST time historians argue if they were gods that changed during the dark ages because red's name predates ash until they Finally find a myth involving them as 2 different characters and its settled that they're 2 separate gods even though they represent similar-ish things LOL anyways yeah i can imagine more myths of them being found and historians going ??? wtd were these gods <3 hope that answers ur questions anon! :D

#swagdoons #ashswag #reddoons #tw swearing #media.warning.swearing #tw caps #media.warning.caps #mcytshipping #lsshipping #<- not really?? tbh i dont ship them myself but it Is mentioned a bit so #but also i am letting this out to the world for a reason . become a true mythology and make up whatever u wanna do with them ^_^#death of that author or whatever . evolve them and make them ur own!!!!!#anyways ya i think red's cult would Really value material goods and focus on living ur best life in a lots of money and party kinda way #and i mentioned his would be more of an ideology so i think his practices would involve stuff involving shooting the shit and Capitalism #while with ash he gives u like. Things if you sacrifice and worship him (like winning a battle)#so ya #also iirc some religions Do talk abt money in their holy texts so perhaps some of reds myths r abt that #i should really make a tag for this huh. i cant think of any so uhhhhh #into the pantheon #<- yeah lets go with that 4 now #anyways ^_^ ty for the ask anon!#and i am So Sorry to the maintag for spamming i am just Ill about this concept #ask.core

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agathaloseshermind · 2 years

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Season 8 transformations ratings and my opinions part 1

Okay so I’m doing Season 8-1 because I wanna end with happier vibes. This post should’ve contained Cosmix, Neo Enchantix, Neo Sirenix and Crystal Sirenix but it frankly started getting way too long so um this will contain Cosmix and Neo Enchantix and Sirenix in season 8 will get their own post, why the genuine hell does Season 8 have so many transformations.

Cosmix

So I’m basing my knowledge on this transformation off the wiki and information I can gather on it so this transformation is for the girls to be able to travel through space and protect the stars.

They gain this transformation via being given it by Queen Doranna which is acceptable in terms of gaining magic transformations given Queen Doranna is the queen of Stars so it makes sense she can grant special powers related to her domain.

In terms of needing to exist it makes sense that the Winx need a special transformation to travel through the cosmos since space is very different from teleporting to different worlds but I must say these designs don’t exactly screams space to me. The wiki says this is based off of 60s American space age fashion which when I googled what that looks like I can see it but frankly I feel like the girls’ clothes should’ve been more spacesuit inspired or incorporated helmets or something in some way because nothing about their designs tell me this transformation uniquely lets the girls travels through the cosmos. If I didn’t know the name and what the inspirations behind these designs are I frankly would’ve never guessed this transformation is for space.

Another thing I dislike about these designs is how uniform it is across the board. I’m not completely against transformations like Cosmix where the girls all gain it together at once to be uniform but the designs tell us nothing about the girls’ unique powers. At most you could guess what the girls’ unique powers are based on their color schemes which is a pretty awful way to differentiate elements since with Bloom you can only guess she has fire powers because she has red hair, Musa maybe you could guess of her pose and Stella because yellow at least for me is mostly associated with the sun.

Transformation sequence wise I love the song it absolutely slaps and definitely invokes themes of space and the transformations are very fast paced with the girls quickly getting into their attire while being surrounded by the cosmos. They once again don’t show off the girls’ individual powers at all which is infuriating because while I’m not sure of a way to incorporate things like fluids and the dragon flame into a space themed design, you can certainly incorporate technology and the FRIKIN SUN into it and also they managed to incorporate their individual elements into the 2d Sirenix transformations even though its water based. Its possible the producers just refuse to do it which is annoying.

The transformation is meh in terms of being special or unique compared to the other transformations. The wiki says they can destroy black holes and regenerate stars with Cosmix which is crazy but the designs hold it back from being special because the designs just look like the girls were in magic winx, got ordered to cover their skin more and decided to glam up their clothes with some stars and change their wings to suit their more covered bodies.

Ratings:

6/10, its definitely not horrible at all but the designs aren’t special and neither is the transformation sequence themselves. I do get their existence and the song slaps. This may change the more transformations I rate and I may decide I was too kind or harsh on this transformation.

Neo Enchantix

MY EYES. THE PINK. THE UNIFORMITY. IT B U R N S.

Seriously though WHY IS THERE SO MUCH PINK ADDED INTO THESE TRANSFORMATIONS.

Its frakly insulting how much neon pink they think they need to insert into their designs.

THEY DIDN’T EVEN GIVE FLORA THE RIGHT SHADE OF PINK I’M GONNA CRY AND THEY REMOVED THE GREEN IN HER WINGS FOR YELLOW??? W H Y??? SHES THE FAIRY OF NATURE WHY DID THEY REMOVE THE GREEN FOR YELLOW???????????

THEY NEED TO STOP TRYING TO MAKE BLOOM’S COLOR PINK SHE LOOKS BETTER IN BLUE. You cant tell me Season 8 Bloom’s Pink Enchantix looks better than her normal more blue one with bits of pink so its less bland.

They also ruined the wings. Well ruined is a strong word but the wings are becoming so painfully uniform it hurts my very soul. I wasn’t opposed to Techna gaining double wings till I realized it just makes their wings look so uniform I hate it. I hate it. The dresses are uniform too with only Techna having a unique article of clothing. Why. Why. Why. I get they had to cover their midriffs cause people think children have the brains of 2 year olds but did they have to make the dresses the same like w h y. They couldn’t even make the skirts look like the old ones but just longer.

They also seemed to use the inferior Enchantix song for the transformations which tbh it does fit the new sequence for it better but I hate the sequence too so thats points off too, the girls just wave their arms and maybe move their arms to their hair or spin around with their swinging their legs a bit and bam transformed. It doesn’t feel magical, it just feels like a group of 6 girls with very strange dressing procedures or doing a weird mock dance.

Part of my ire to Neo Enchantix is just how much I can compare it to the original Enchantix but its also just BAD like they removed everything that showed off the girls’ individual powers for the same background just with different colors depending on the girls and its so bad like its not unwatchable its a Winx transformation theres enjoyment to receive from it but just watch the original Enchantix or heck even the 3d one, its 1000x better.

Also from what I can gather from comments and googling, they brought Enchantix back for miniaturization?? Now this transformation isn’t just insulting to the original, its blatant nostalgia bait because I’m pretty sure Tynix can do the same thing and I wouldn’t have had to be subjected to watching such a classic and incredible transformation be so butchered when they didn’t even use Enchantix’s main power which was FAIRY DUST TO BREAK DARK SPELLS.

Rating

2/10, it gets a 2 because its Enchantix and I could never rate Enchantix 0 but IT DEFINITELY MAKES ME WANT TO RATE IT 0 FOR TAKING MY CHILDHOOD AND BASHING IT WITH A SLEDGEHAMMER.

#winx club #winx club season 8 #winx season 8 #winx cosmix #winx club cosmix #winx club enchantix #winx enchantix #winx neo enchantix #winx club neo enchantix

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yorkscoffee · 5 months

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played fae farm during the trial week on switch ... the npcs are made of cardboard and there r some weird bugs and quirks in the game but i had a good time. may or may not have gone a lil insane and completed the whole story and made it to almost the end of summer year 2

gonna write out some thoughts

one of the weird quirks is that u can't name ur character. they will just simply be named after like ur steam or switch or whatever profile. unless u make a phoenix labs account then u can change ur name that way, but if u go offline at all it switches back to the profile name until u log in again (pause > multiplayer > login button; u don't have to actually do multiplayer just log in). very annoying when i do not like to play as myself in these games & also just a strange decision in general imo

character creator is decent but i would recommend going to the voice selection and hitting "silent" before actually getting into it LOL the noises the character makes get so annoying after a bit... the pronoun selection is nice (he she or they) & u can go back into the character creator using a craftable mirror so u can switch all that stuff up whenever u want

the storyline was cute; not exactly deep but the artwork was neat. i liked all the rhymes and the storybook-y feel. the sprites have nice designs. wisp mother should be a romance candidate but she is not

gameplay felt nice; i liked the auto tool switching and the double jump a lot, & having spells and potions that helped with farming was cool. very light on tutorials but if ur experienced with the genre its not too hard to figure out (idk how it is w/o experience bc i cannot un-experience things). having year-round plants that u use magic fertilizer on to change them into seasonal varieties was funky

animals are pretty quirky and a lil buggy. sometimes i would try to water a plant or something and a chicken would teleport to me from across the farm and get pet. or they would just wander away from the Sign That Is Supposed To Keep Animals Near It and get in the way. fences cannot stop them they will simply walk thru it. also in my experience my cows and sheep would stop giving milk and wool if i didnt enter the barn the day before, even if they had food? weird lil quirk there but once i figured it out it was fine

u can pretty much ignore the animals and their affection will still go up & theyll still produce things as long as u feed them, and also the only punishment for not feeding them is they don't produce things. very forgiving. something i thought was really interesting tho that they dont actually point out in game is that petting ur animals gives u some regen on ur stamina and magic and probably hp, which is Super handy and a neat mechanic that got me to continue paying attention to my animals anyway

decorating ur house with specific furniture gives u a "cozy home" bonus; basically this is how u increase ur hp/mp/stamina, which i think is also a pretty neat lil mechanic

also flower breeding is a mechanic. 6 types of flowers, 6 different genes, 12 unique colors. works pretty much like acnh but also u can breed 2 different types of flowers (so like a rose and a tulip) and u'll have a 50/50 shot at getting one or the other. i got almost every color and i will be haunted by the white zinnia until i have an actual copy of the game. also the genes are actually displayed in a lil tooltip when the cursor is over the flower which is really really cool and good and i love that feature so so much it makes everything so much easier and less frustrating

the game doesnt tell u this iirc but crops and flowers can be moved if u go into the uhhhh build mode. like u can just pick up a whole plant and move it wherever. very handy for both flower breeding and just organizing things in general. u can just pick up and move almost anything, & if u can't u can tear it down and get all materials back. u cannot do either thing to a crafting station that has items in it though u have to get the items out first if u want to break it down or move it

flowers r very important if u like customization also. u unlock 2 color palettes (a grand total of 6 colors) automatically and u have to buy the rest. most of them cost like 30 of a particular flower + some other item + money. u can recolor furniture and outfits with ur unlocked color palettes which is nice

combat was fine, bonus points for the potion of i just want to mine please don't perceive me. also bonus points because there is actually a storyline reason for the monsters to be there; always hate it when a game is like "videogame... have combat. videogame Must have combat. i put monsters in cave. now this is a real video game :)" like nah tell me where those slimes came from. in this case the monsters are objects animated by wild magic and they have cute designs and goofy lil names like cannot (a cannon) and skello (a cello)

there are 3 dungeons in the game & the latter two have funky lil puzzle mechanics. if u aint like that then theres things u can make to skip most of em. i thought they were neat & being able to remove them pretty easily meant they didnt overstay their welcome. they also require specific potions so u don't like "die" (get teleported out of the dungeon, which is also what happens if u lose all ur hp) which would probably be cooler if pausing the game would pause the timers on the potions. i assume that sort of thing is because the game was made with multiplayer in mind; this is presumably also the reason why having anything pause time at all in singleplayer was added in an update after launch

(pausing also does not pause monsters. they will murderize u with the pause screen up. on switch u can just go to the home menu 4 a proper pause at least)

the npcs are as mentioned largely made of cardboard; most of the ones u can't befriend (most of the merchants) have the same pool of lines, and the ones u can have a few personal lines and a bunch of lines referencing things uve done in the game even if its been like 10 years since u did it (common in the genre). there are no events with the non-romance npcs or interactions between any npcs except for like some animations; every conversation witnessed is an npc talking to protagonist. the only events are the dates with the romance characters, which are just them and protagonist sitting around and talking with absolutely nothing happening. the dialogue is cute at least

romance npcs' statuses will sometimes get stuck for some reason (this happened to 2 of them when i played) but that i think should be fixable with the "reset relationship" button, which is a pretty cool feature (tho my understanding is it's also a bit buggy sometimes so ymmv)

festivals are just decorations in town and a shop in town hall (including the fae festival, which one would expect to happen in the fae realm). characters have a few unique lines referencing the festival. sometimes they reference... the Wrong festival. goofy lil oversight i think. birthdays are on the calendar but have no impact in-game

marriage is also very nothing; u get a cute wedding scene and then ur spouse just vibes around the farm sometimes. there is no dialogue about this. also other romance npcs' relationship status change to "past sweetheart" or something like that and u cant progress with them at all since ur not allowed to be friends with them

gift giving is also only for romance npcs and each one has a random item that is the only thing u can possibly give them that day. but like talking to them gives good enough points regardless

job quests (questlines related to each skill u have, given by npcs related to that skill) are neat lil "challenges" but u can only pick up one at a time for some reason. weird design choice imo. they give u a hat for doing all the quests and an outfit if u do all the quests And some 100% requirement (like getting every crop at least once for the farming quests, making one of each polished gem variety for mining, etc) which i think is pretty neat

overall i think i would compare it to story of seasons: pioneers of olive town (particularly in its initial state) in that the npcs are very nothing but the gameplay loop is very good and fun; between the two i would say fae farm has the better story tho lol

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more-than-a-princess · 7 months

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"Do ya believe in love at first sight, sis?" (Talk to this hopeless romantic of a little girl, big sis u-u)

A Cinderella Story sentence starters - Accepting!

"Hm?" Sonia replied, surprised by her choice of question. But not enough for her to drop the tray she was holding. And thank goodness: it would present several problems if she were to do so. For one, burns from hot drinks would likely be a health hazard, and the attention they'd garner with stained clothes and broken ceramic cups and saucers would do both Itsuki and Sonia no favors.

Nevertheless, she hadn't regretted inviting her young friend out with her that afternoon. To a cafe with a particularly cozy atmosphere, the sort of place that reminded Sonia of home. Instead of loud colors and lights and everyone on their phones instead of conversing with their companions, all for the sake of the perfect social media photo as proof, the cafe she'd chosen was meant to be a calm and quiet respite from the day. Sonia had even spotted a table by the window, where she'd asked Itsuki to wait as she brought their order over. It was an ideal spot, with a park across the street and small shops on either side of the cafe: plenty of pedestrians passed by, eager to partake in the newly-changing autumn weather.

Sonia's favorite time of year, her birthday in a few short weeks aside. She loved fall colors and flavors, and in particular how lax the general public tended to perceive the likes of horror movies and the occult. They were acceptable if not embraced, it seemed, for just a short time each year and she intended to make the most of it. That included all of the cinnamon, cloves, allspice, chocolate, and vanilla bean whipped cream that she could get her hands on: that was one of the many pleasures Japan offered. Even if one didn't visit the most popular and Instagrammable places, themed food offerings and decor were commonplace. If it could be touted as a limited edition product, Sonia found Japan would do it.

And she relished in it, hoping Itsuki would too as she set the cup of hot chocolate before her. Arriving on its own saucer, it was topped with a large dollop of the aforementioned vanilla bean-infused whipped cream and dusted with cinnamon, a small iced sugar cookie in the shape of a pumpkin beside it. Few people disliked chocolate, she thought. For herself, she'd chosen a spiced milk tea mixed with a pumpkin syrup, topped with whipped cream and an array of finely-milled ground spices. Autumn in a cup.

"What an unexpected question," She smiled, taking her seat across from Itsuki. "Love at first sight? Let me think..."

That required the taste of hot tea on her tongue, and Sonia didn't hesitate to pick up her teacup for a sip. Perfectly blended with an array of flavors, all appropriate for the season: there was plenty of time to experience the changing colors of leaves and smoked chestnuts and sweet potatoes, as she'd come to understand Japan's celebration of that time of year. For now, she was content to watch it from the window with Itsuki.

"Well, I am not sure about all-encompassing love at first sight," She finally decided, "But I would be lying if I said that I did not believe in instant attraction to someone. I think love, however, forms when you truly begin to know someone: all of their virtues and faults and you would not wish for them to be any other way. You simply love all of them, just as they are. That...yes, I have experienced that: an attraction where love soon followed."

Her smile had turned from bright and sunny to warm and wistful: Sonia clearly had someone in mind, someone she was reluctant to mention by name to Itsuki for her friend would most likely know them. In short, said person was a student at Hope's Peak Academy. "Why do you ask, Itsuki-chan? Does the autumn season and spooky atmosphere prompt feelings of love and romance in you as well? There is truly nothing more romantic than a gothic romance, to be sure!" Stories that Itsuki was likely too young for still, though Sonia had been even younger than her when she'd stumbled onto certain titles. Still, when she was a child she'd idolized the likes of Gomez and Morticia, Jack and Sally. Fairytale princesses had nothing on her childhood romantic ideals, full of dark and strange couples who adored one another for it.

#more-than-a-princess answered #yukikorogashi #Non-Despair AU: Hope's Peak Academy verse #(A Cinderella Story sentence starters)#(Sonia will try to hide who she's interested in and will usually fail miserably)#(Except by the person she's actually interested in who will be blissfully unaware)#(Let's just say he wears a lot of black and is constantly around animals okay-)

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huber01huber · 2 years

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One Of The Best Celine Bag Dupes & Celine Inspired Luggage That Money Should Buy

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#celine bag replica #celine replica #replica celine bag #fake celine bag

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1kook · 3 years

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crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.

They go like this:

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

#networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #Jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 2 years

Text

Of Monsters And Men

(Season 2)

Chapter 2 - Kaer Morhen

Summery: With your blistered palm on the mend, has your fearsome trio found themselves in Kaer Morhen at long last. With yourselves back in the fortress do you get a brief sense of safety when a secret Eskel hadn't shared till it was too late comes to rise.

Warning: blood, fluff

Word count: 8603

Masterlist - Of Monsters And Men Masterlist here

It's been one too many days since you all left Nivellen to his own demise in that huge lonely manor on the hill, a charred mark in the snow at his feet, and an empty village vacant of all life. All a past problem come and gone as everything typically does in your life with your Witcher and now a magical child of surprise. Weird yes, however nothing too out of the ordinary.

Your boots land upon snow as you dismount from Roach's backside, your dark cloak blowing in the wind as you touch your thinly wrapped hand which came into contact with Geralt's sword handle which in turn happens to be silver. You needed to kill Vereena quickly and a little pain was worth...well, was it really worth saving Nivellen's life? You're still not so sure about that, in fact if it was just you and him you'd probably have let her kill him too.

Too late for that now. Roach neighs as she speaks to her old friends at the stable as Geralt helps Ciri down. He tends to his mare while the white dressed princess of Cintra takes a long look around the courtyard of Kaer Morhen. And what a grand place it is; her greenish blue irises trail across the stones as she studies the place, "This is your home?" Asks Ciri as she lets her eyes glance over the tall fortress of the Witcher stronghold, an empty on at that, "How many did you say there were?"

"I didn't." He leaves his belongings be and walks over to Ciri, "Last I checked..we were 20. Now? Maybe less." Her brows furrow in thought as you start to walk towards the front entrance, Geralt following suit.

"And you're sure it's safe?"

"Keep up." Is all Geralt answers with as you smirk, this is going to be an interesting time.

Once you all find yourselves easily through the giant fortress have you led a nervous Ciri to the front doors leading into the evening hall where all the Witcher's are typically located, and by the mumbled chattering on the other end. You know for a fact that Geralt's about to get some kind of brotherly hug filled welcome, and you? Well you're never really sure.

He presses a hand to the wooden door that opens with little effort, the three of you walk inside with Geralt in the center as you anticipate the curious staring. "Is it too late to turn back?" You mutter softly to Geralt who simply hums in answer as the Witcher's attention falls to your rough looking trio. And surprised they are indeed.

Three benches lay in a U shape as you get closer to the mouth of benches holding ale and food. Two men on the left, two on the right, and three seated on the center one with three more standing elsewhere. All eyes to you, Ciri, and Geralt. Curious eyes of differentiating colors all looking, staring, glad to see a brother....puzzled to see a blonde girl in a white dress....and ever the mixed feelings to see you among them. Beautiful monster. Ruby eyed temptress. Princess of the undead.

Your eyes find the fluffy red hair of Lambert who turns around to see what's caused the doors to shut loudly, he gives a lopsided grin when he spots Geralt walking towards him, "Here comes trouble." Mutters Lambert comically to the others around him while he gets up from his seat on the bench, "Where the fuck have you been? We thought you got lost. Or killed...or, or turned into a red eyed bloodsucker by your lovely lady in black here." Jests Lambert as he peaks around Geralt to give you a wink as you bare your fangs at him in a playful manner. He chuckles, "Why Y/N, you haven't aged a day." Oh, ever the fearless flirt.

Crossing your arms over your chest do you tilt your head at him like a curious wolf, "Why Lambert, you still smell of horseshit and bad decisions."

He holds up a finger, "Aye, they're never bad."

"Just questionable?"

His finger droops as he thinks about this, "Yes." He soon nods in agreement before his goldish eyes land on Geralt now, he chuckles happily, "Brother!" Lambert smiling brightly, stepping forward as his arms open up to bring Geralt in for a big bear hug that is greatly received. Once parted does he smack him on the back as Coen greets the white haired man before him. And it looks as though Coen has lost some hair since the last time you've seen him too, got a couple new scars across the face as well. Though still ever with his one blue eye and one dark one that suits him well.

"So, he returns." Beams Coen as he goes to envelope Geralt into his arms, "Come here!" He mutters as they hug one another tightly before letting go once more. He pats him on the shoulder, "Knew you'd make a fuckin' entrance."

Lambert nods, "I knew it." He can't help but smile brightly at him, "Finally, brother. You're back."

"Wolf. You're home." Speaks the familiar voice of Vesemir as Geralt turns to see his old friend, your scarlet irises land upon the white haired man, he looks a bit older then the last time you saw him which was quit a handful of years ago.

Geralt nods in respect, "Vesemir."

The older Witchers eyes glance from Geralt to you standing a few feet behind him to his right, he smiles softly when your eyes meet, "Beasty, you've returned to us as well. Kaer Morhen wouldn't be the same." He muses as you smirk.

"How could I ever decline?" You shrug, "Can't seem to stay away, I'd miss Lambert's cooking too much."

He snorts, shaking his head at this until his perceptive gaze moves from you to the blonde girl, his brows furrow, "Hmm?" He nods to Ciri who's now found herself on your left. Still looking nervously around at everything as she purposefully keeps yourself between her and everyone else here.

Geralt shrugs, "Yeah. Had to make a few stops on the way." Vesemir nods at this, letting this odd happening slide by as the rest of the Witchers come to greet Geralt who's now too distracted to do anything else. You stand there off to the side holding your wrapped up hand to your chest as they mostly ignore you since Geralt is their brother after all and well, you? You've known them for some time, it's just a couple here and there still aren't very fond of your kind, as they like to put it.

You're not completely vampire, but half is enough for a few of them to keep their rightful distance, which only makes sense them being Witchers after all. This however doesn't bother you in the slightest, as long as Geralt remains at your side, Ciri is safe, and Lambert never misses a chance to flirt with you. All is well in Kaer Morhen.

After greetings are had and the brothers say their hellos does yourself and Ciri find your places around the long wooden table on the far end with the other Witchers. The one table closest to the medallion tree that's one fireplace away. Standing on the end, you part a piece of bread as Lambert leans his elbow into the table seated on the same side as Ciri, eyes glancing steadily between the lot of you as he begins his story, "So, there I am, freezing my bollocks off in the middle of a grain field for the second, straight, night.."

You take a sip of ale as he slowly stands, "...when the farmer's wife comes sneaking out to tell me that I'm wasting my time. It wasn't a mora her husband saw leaving that room. No." He crosses his arms over his chest as he lets the anticipation drawl on for a moment while he looks around before breaking out into a big grin, "It was the fucking field hand!" He shouts as the others burst into laughter as Lambert twists around in a circle excitedly, eyes lingering on you for a second as he catches your light amusement.

"Oh, and now she's wailing, "Oh, what are we gonna do?" He pretends to whine in a woman's voice, "My husband won't pay you if you don't deliver a mora head!" Chuckles Lambert as the others cackle, he then pretends to take his sword out, "So I pulled out my sword and I said, "Bet he'll pay double for the field hand's." The room erupts with more laughter as Lambert chuckles to himself before he turns to reach for his drink sitting on the table.

"Good old Lambchop." Snickers Coen as Lambert takes a drink before continuing his story.

"She returned with two horses and a fur rug. Best job I had all year." He says with a nod, taking another sip from his cup as you do the same.

"Each of your faces is cause enough for celebration." Announces Vesemir as he stands behind everyone with a silver cup in hand, "You're safe. You made it back. You made it home." He holds his cup up to make a toast that is joined by the others and even yourself.

"Here's to another winter, together." Says Coen as the others raise their various cups.

"To breath in our lungs." Adds Lambert.

"To our parts we still keep!" You muse as a few snicker.

"To the brothers." Says Geralt as he raises his bull horn cup once more, eyes glancing over from you to Ciri, "To old friends, and to knew ones."

"To forgetting the fucking Path!" Shouts a new voice into the mix as the doors close behind him, you turn to see Eskel, "For one fucking night. Who's ready?" He asks as Geralt pushes himself up from his seat to greet his brother who looks rather worn down from the trek up the mountain.

Large smile upon his handsome face does Geralt walk to the tired Witcher, "Eskel!" His arms pull the scar-faced man in without a second thought as another Witcher yells, "Eskel's back!" Both men part but not before Geralt tells him he looks like shit, Eskel telling him he should see the other guy. Now what's he been up to?

You take notice of a leather satchel slung over his left shoulder with what appears to be twisted sticks peaking out of it. Though he does indeed stink and look less kindly then you three still do, his smile never once falters as he looks to his friends while you eye up the bag suspiciously. You raise a brow at the mystery in the bag, "What treasure has the dragon found this time?" You ask as he parts his hazel eyes away from Coen to land them upon you.

Eskel's lips immediately form a flirtatious smirk as he focuses onto your questioning face, "Y/N, Y/N...still alive and well I see. How fairs your winter so far on this Continent?"

Rubbing the backside of your wrapped hand do you simply shrug, "I exist to be an inconvenience."

Eskel chuckles as Geralt shakes his head at your blunt wittiness, the brown haired Witcher takes a step closer, "Well said as I suspected as much. Though I'm sure most of us have missed your pretty face in these halls, myself included." He snickers as you roll your crimson eyes. Sometimes you get more flirtatious comments being in Kaer Morhen for less then twenty-minutes then you do from a week with Geralt. However you can tolerate Geralt more, a lot more.

"Alright now I know you're exhausted. Disillusioned maybe? Bewitched perhaps?" You mutter as he admires you from afar, you glance from his bag to him, "But I'm sticking with the ladder and by the scent radiating off of your clothes, you've just done battle with something of the woods. Haven't you?"

Eskel breaks out into an almost proud grin as he slides the bag down his arm, "Indeed. The bout lasted six hours. I'd have got the fucker, too, if I hadn't lost my elixirs." The men laugh as he throws the sack onto the floor, "I got her hands, though."

"What's this?" Questions Lambert as he looks down at the supposed fingers of whatever it actually is that peaks out, "Is that a leshy? What is it Esk?"

"Walked like one." Says Eskel as he turns away from all of you, "Talked like one....Sort of." He turns to see you all once more, uncertainty clear on his face as Vesemir repeats, "Sort of?" In a questioning tone. What does he mean by, sort of?

"I haven't crossed a leshy in a while." Says Lambert, "Not in Kaedwen."

"Well, count yourselves lucky." Begins Eskel with a humored grin, "Unless you're aching for the sting of one of their fucking roots." And he didn't kill it?

"Fire through the heart is the only thing that puts one down." Adds Vesemir as everyone goes silent, "Six hours in, didn't occur to you?" The rooms erupts with scattered laughter as Eskel becomes sort of a target of opportunity with this lot of badass fools. His once bemused grin lessens into an almost embarrassed frown as his eyes graze over the room until they fall onto Ciri. Frown gone in an instant as his brows furrow at this new face in the crowd, unfamiliar, unknown, even more interesting....this face belongs to a girl.

He slowly saunters over to the quiet princess as she makes herself small while taking a sip from her silver chalice, he bends down to come eye to eye with her in a non-threatening yet purposely intimidating way, "Who the hell are you?" She swallows her drink before setting it onto the wooden table as you watch to see how she'll react to him in her face like this.

She turns to look at him unflinching as a marble statue, arm rested casually against the tabletop while she fearlessly looks to him, "Princess Cirilla of Cintra. Pleasure to meet you." Your lips curve into a grin at this, she's becoming more like her true self as the days pass. You can almost see a little part of your younger self in her sometimes, it's pleasantly odd.

Eskel stands tall once again as he raises a brow, admittedly a bit impressed and clearly taken aback, "Eskel." Is all he says in greeting before walking off to pick up his bag and presumably find his room. Wherever that is.

In the next couple hours do you have your midday meal, soon heading off with Geralt to aid in a bit of training. For a good portion of the day do you clash swords with him until parting to clean yourself up before dinner in the evening. As the sun is slowly settling over the horizon do you wash yourself a bit and dress in less dirty clothing before heading out the door of your shared room with Geralt.

Down the hallway you go in search of the leshy's hand that Eskel brought when he arrived. There's just something about that creature that's hung in your mind like a bad dream all day, you want to know more. Alone do you find yourself in the large room filled with various tools for crafting potions and elixirs. A room you've been in many a times when aiding Geralt or Vesemir in their creations.

In the center, down three steps that circle the bottom flooring lays a stone table. Near this is the sack with the leshy's severed hands, you take them out and place the one hand upon a faded white cloth sprawled out over the middle portion of the long stone table. Your eyes hunt the shelves for some medical equipment before locating a couple small thin knives wrapped up in a faded white cloth holding other medical type equipment in various pockets. Perfect.

With one knife in hand now, do you steady the leshy's wrist as you prepare to cut though the jagged greyish brown bark, footsteps move across the ground, a heartbeat thudding within a mans chest who approaches close now. Stopping your hand from making the first cut into the leshy do you sigh in annoyance, "What is it now?" You groan, crimson eyes flickering up to land upon Lambert as he stands there like a nervous boy about to give a girl some pretty flowers.

"I wanted to see you." He says playfully with a little grin as you simply roll your eyes at the red haired man.

"I'm doing something here. I require silence and.." You face falls as Ciri steps into the room, "..oh come on now."

"What? She might learn a thing or two." Protests Lambert as he walks down the three steps, "So might I?"

You give the bold Witcher a miffed look, "I can hear her heartbeat. It's too loud, and you speak too much as it is." You mutter as he folds his arms over his broad chest, standing right in front of you from behind the stone table. You look around him to find Ciri walking down the same small steps, you let out a huff of air as she stands off to the side a tad awkwardly. You wave your knife, "Oh fine, come here then little lioness. Ciri can watch me slice this fucker up, but you can go my annoying fox. Get, before I call my wolf on you." Your concentration flows back down at the severed wrist as you prepare to cut.

Lambert halfheartedly scoffs, "Alright, alright, bossy. See you both later then." He gives you a playful wink, turning to nod at the princess respectfully before walking up the steps and out of the room he goes. Peace at last....for the most part.

Ciri slowly walks closer to the table as her enchanted irises study the creatures bark covered forearm, "It hides in forests?" She asks while leaning her hands against the tables edge opposite of you, curious eyes trailing over the strange wooden hand, "Are there are others like it?"

You break its skin open with some applied pressure, "A few. Dying out though because unfortunately for them, they can't reproduce like the common rabbit. Probably for the best in my humble opinion." You move the bark apart and look inside before pulling something out resembling that of spider silk, "Any you come across will have been around since the Conjunction, which was a long long time ago. A bit older then even I, however that's about the same age as my mother believe it or not."

"Your mother? The vampire." She asks puzzled though a bit surprised nonetheless. You truly never fail to intrigue her.

Setting the strange silken strand onto the table behind you does your attention come back to her when you turn around, "Yes. You see my mother is the first vampire to ever exist in these lands coming from wherever she was beforehand, that, I don't even know. But she is still the one who turned the second and third and so on and so forth. Vampire to vampire, forming her coven, establishing a kingdom, becoming the alpha of all before her, Queen over the Blood Throne and all that fun stuff." You explain while pressing the knife to the bark once more, "And remain she does....like this leshy who's presumably still fuming in the woods without its hand."

She pushes herself off of the tables edge to give the room a once over, "So, is that what we'll be doing here, then? Studying monsters, talking about them?" You can tell by her tone that she's not too thrilled about it either. You know she wants more then that, you can tell she wants to hold a sword in her hand, not hold some information about monsters and extensive history from another time.

You smirk at her natural impatience before ripping out a chunk of bark with your good hand, she looks at the shelves of empty glass bottles, "Collecting supplies for those potions Geralt takes?"

Holding down the creatures forearm do you steady a knife upon the bark once more, "Sure, something like that." The blade cuts into the flesh of the leshy as she picks up a tool from the other table and holds it in her hand. Not quite the weapon she's looking for.

"Training?" She states, looking questioningly at you who's not looking at anything but the leshy's arm though you hear her all the same.

"Training?" You raise a brow, giving her a quick glance, "Training is dangerous."

She looks from the flooring to the blade in your steady grasp and then to your concentrated expression, "So's the man with the black-winged helmet." She watches as you raise your gaze from the creature to fully look at her now, you have her attention. The Black Knight, and in a second does her drive to train so suddenly make a plethora of sense.

Your scarlet irises find her hardened gaze, just about staring into her soul do you set the knife down, "And you want to kill him?"

"Yes." She doesn't even hesitate.

"Why?"

Her expression turns to an underlying rage shown through her young face, "I hate him." You know she does, the way her eyes flash with anger and sadness and so many other things going unsaid. Ciri has every right to feel this way, but revenge you know does not bring them back no matter how good it may feel when the act is done. And this is not a path you want her to follow, one of hate and resentment. A driving force that could make anyone go insane.

Nilfgaard took Yennefer away from you, they killed countless other innocent people without remorse who mean everything to the ones still alive to remember them. Yet you have chosen not to let your heartache cause you to suffer and kill until you feel nothing left, a monster you'd undoubtedly become if the path of revenge was followed. For your own sanity have you decided to let her go for good....a heavy part of your past did she keep. Now a fond memory you'd rather not talk about right here with Ciri, who's own heart is swarming with these unhealthy feelings you'd had days and days ago.

Letting out a sigh do you press your palms into the flat surface of the table as you lean a little closer to her, expression serious and calm, "This is important, so listen well my dear princess. Though I am no Witcher I know they don't kill out of fear. They kill to save lives. Do you understand?" She says nothing yet her face tells you of her deeper conflicts, though she does give a little nod to show that she has received your words. "Good. Fear only makes a person more unstable and harsh, it weakens the heart and mind and clouds all adequate judgment. Keep that in your head and you'll do well in this world."

Removing your hands from the table do you place them upon the leshy's bark to explore some more as your focus is drawn down to the leshy and your task of finding some truth. Ciri watches you do this for a short bit of time before she breaks the sweet silence with a question. "Well, how did you spend your days when you first came here? Was Geralt with you?"

"He was. However his brothers almost sent a wooden stake through my heart the first time we all met. They were a little unsettled to say the least, but with time they grew fond of me and now only half of them still don't trust me. Which is fine, I don't blame them."

Ciri grins, "It's not hard to tell between the two."

"No it isn't." You chuckle, "I am what I am and that is dangerous and wonderful all in itself." You add while setting the knife to the side as you look to her, "I could have been so many different things Cirilla if I was raised anywhere else but my home. I could have become the most terrifying being to walk these lands, I could have become a symbol of death and blood wherever I went. But I didn't. You must understand something that the Witchers here will never, my mother is Queen of Vampire's, yes. But she is not evil, she cares for all life and knows how sacred blood is, Cirilla my kind do not kill for pleasure as some would think..

My people kill to survive, they kill to protect. You only hear stories about vampires as tall tales to keep little children and fools out of the woods after dark. We do not murder, we drink and we pass through a village and are gone before anyone even knew we came."

She thinks this over a moment, "So, vampires don't actually kill people to eat?"

"No, my kin feed only enough to disorient and weaken the person, then they move on to the next until they are satisfied."

Her brows furrow, "So, Vereena.."

"Yes, her. She's a Bruxa, a feral kind who choose to kill their victims and make a fucking mess about it. They are what gives all vampires a bad name if you do not know any better." You explain as she listens intently, "I want you to know this because I understand your inquisitiveness about me. My eyes are red as blood, I have fangs, but I can walk in sunlight unburnt. I can feel all emotions as you can, I can cry, I can get tired, and I feel bad when someone is hurting. That is my human side, a side that helps me try and feel as mortals do."

"They don't tell you anything about that." She mutters with a little grin, "If my friends could only see me now, I'm in a Witcher castle with you."

You smile a fangy grin, "They'd probably piss themselves huh?" Cirilla snickers as you pick up your knife, holding it now in preparation for the cut you're about to make, "So how's your room?"

"It has rats." She says with a tinge of disgust.

"That's a good sign, means it's one of the warm ones." You cut deep by the closest digit, severing the bark-flesh before ripping off the leshy's thumb as she watches your fingers rub against one another with a new black soot on them. You study the powdery darkness on your pointer finger and thumb as the sounds of men shouting calls your attention from the strangeness of this deceased creature.

"What's that?" Asks Ciri as her gaze looks to the right at the doorway leading into the evening hall where the sounds of men can be heard echoing down the corridor.

You set the knife down, "Not sure if I want to know." Wiping the black powder off on your dark colored pants are your legs already moving you across the room anyways, you hold a hand out while turning your head to give her a glance, "Stay here."

She follows after you, "You know, in Cintra, I went to parties.."

"Cirilla." Your voice is stern as you follow the sounds, a lesser warning yet one she understands all the same. Ciri stays put where she stands, pouting a little as you exit out the doorway and down the hall you go. Best not to irritate the dhampir princess, thinks Cirilla as she looks around the vacant room, unsure of what to even do now.

The yelling and loud banging of mugs against the table, among other things, finds itself in your sensitive ears as you wander onward. The laughter of women mixed with jewelry clinking together let's you know exactly what kind of company you're about to witness. Passing a torch stuck to the wall do you turn right, through the doorway you saunter into the great evening hall that shines bright with firelight and candles.

Witchers laugh and drink merrily as scantily clad women of the night laugh and dance with them on the tables and in their welcoming arms. You catch a glimpse of bare breasts more then twice as your scarlet eyes divert from things you'd rather not have seen. However you continue to walk through the busy crowd of drunken lovers to see if Geralt's around and why these women are even here in the first place. The fuck are whores doing in Kaer Morhen?

Past Coen and his lady you trek until a thin dark haired woman in a colorful dress and shimmering jewelry stops you with a hand to your shoulder. She smiles slyly as your eyes look irritably from the thin hand to her cheerful face, "So this is where the Witchers are hatched. Lucky you had these fine men all to yourself before we arrived." She says with a wiggle of her brows, "Miss us?" You give her a deadpanned stare in return while your jaw clenches in vexation.

"Get your hand off of me before I show you what the meaning of missing something really is." You seethe as your eyes glow an agitated crimson, she draws her hand back at this heated threat, only slightly deflated from your unhappy aurora.

"You don't remember me? I cleaned your vomit from your hair in a tavern outside Dorian a handful of years ago. You drank too much and your white haired lover was already asleep so I.." You're already walking away as she grows quiet, eyes following after you, intrigued.

"You shouldn't be here." You warn, knowing she's still paying attention.

"I hear you have a daughter now." She states out of turn, causing you turn around to see her smirking mischievously at you, "And I thought the softest thing about you was that you scared off old creeps in the street for women like me."

"She's not my daughter."

The woman gets a thoughtful look upon her slender face, "Oh? Well, in that case, I could take her in." She grins proudly, "She'd have the boys eating out of her hand.." You take a threatening step forward as she giggles and backs away like this is some petty game, "And she says she's not a mother."

"This close." You bring your hand up, fingers just barley touching together as she watches, "If I didn't have a heart, I'd rip yours out." She's left with nothing to say in return as you leave her there to probably ponder her life choices until a handsome face draws her back into the night. Damn whores have no filter and do not care about much else but coin and their looks. You don't particularly care for whatever they do, however you're not overly fond of them being here.

Moving past a naked woman dancing on the table next to another Witcher does your eyes catch the white hair of Geralt standing next to Vesemir. You swiftly keep moving until you've reached his side, "What is this?" You point a hand to the jolly drunken crowd before you three.

Geralt looks to you, almost apologetic as Vesemir answers, "Eskel found some friends down the mountain."

"They shouldn't be here. And they should know better." You counter as someone screams with joy, sounding more like thunder in your ears then a drunken whore getting her breasts fondled with.

"He drank too much stramonium for that sting, I reckon. They all did." Says Vesemir, "They won't remember anything by tomorrow. Certainly not how they got here." You sigh as your gaze falls upon Eskel and some blonde woman in a green and pink dress. Feeling him up as he leans into her, he looks kind of off though, like he wants to enjoy it but can't completely.

You nudge Geralt, "Go talk to him. They need to leave, the snow isn't going to stop anytime soon and the longer they stay here the worse the conditions are going to get. I don't feel too particularly fond about escorting a bunch of night women down the mountain in a weeks time. Or dealing with them if they decide to stay the winter." You give him a warning look, "I'd rather have my heart staked."

Holding his amusement in does he give you a small nod, "Fine. I'll handle it." Leaving your side to find Eskel, you watch as they speak though Eskel is clearly drunk and still in pain from his battle with the leshy. He's agitated and speaks a few choice words to Geralt who doesn't appear fazed in the slightest. Then he turns to leave with his women before swiftly turning around to punch at Geralt who's quick to block this. Geralt then tells him to go to bed and with that does Eskel sneer before leaving with the women. Men.

You roll your eyes at this and let them be, Geralt returning to your side soon enough as now it's just you leaning against the wall looking rather loathsome to be here at all. "Having fun?" He teases.

You huff, "Do I not look it?"

"I know when you're having fun." He says while positioning himself against the wall as you are, "And I can't say you're having any sort of enjoyment out of this mess."

"Okay, I do not care that they are having a good time, and I do not care that these women are also having a wonderful time. It's just Kaer Morhen isn't exactly an adequate place for them."

He nods slowly, "That is a fair statement to give."

"Someone here's got to keep their full wits about them, might as well be the only immortal one".

Geralt lightly chuckles before his amusement dies down when a troubling thought pops into his head, his brows furrow as he looks over at you, "Where's Ciri?"

"I saw her pounding White Gull and dancing on the table." You mutter, "She's now learning how to throw daggers at a moving target with Coen over there. Just about hit one of the whores too it was really something to see.."

"Y/N." He says lowly in a warning tone, if not for the current circumstances you'd might have had a shiver run down you spine. Oh the way he says your name sometimes.

You roll your eyes, "I caught her spying." He looks conflicted as you tilt your head at him, "My love, it's her first night here. What did you expect?"

"Where was she before? I told Lambert to take her to find you."

"Yes thanks for that." You grumble, "I was trying to figure out that damn leshy's hand when they arrived but it wasn't too bothersome in all honesty. Well once Lambert left that is. Ciri and I had a nice conversation and then I did tell her to stay put.."

"So she didn't listen to you."

"Kids never do what you say." He hums as you take his hand, "She's fine, I had Vesemir show her the armory before sending her off to bed." You conclude as your expression shifts to a more conflicted one while you give his hand a light squeeze, "Are you...are you sure we're ready for this?" You've never actually had to deal with a child before in your entire life, now this, this is new and it's scary.

More terrifying then any monster you've ever fought.

His face softens as he looks into your uncertain gaze, "I was in a cell beneath the city when Cintra was sacked. I heard it all. Fire, screams, and death...Things I know you have heard and witnessed for yourself before I even existed in this world. You told me yourself long ago, when you lived in Brayla, there in that kingdom because you felt for the abused queen who you couldn't save from her husband or you'd have been exiled...

When their enemies came, when their king killed himself to escape a worse death, when the walls were surrounded did you stay with her. Just her, protected her until her brother's army came to reclaim Brayla, you were the last surviving of her guard when the walls fell. Then it was just her and her desolated kingdom gifted by a terrible husbands rule. Just you and the young queen, were you ready then?"

"No." You whisper, gaze falling from his as they land upon his Witcher medallion.

"But you protected her anyways."

"No. I taught her how to find the right allies and how to survive on her own." He chuckles as you let your eyes raise up to find his again, this time with a small smile upon your lips as you press a hand to his cheek affectionately. He's just trying to make you feel better about all of this, you know he's scared too.

"You did more then that."

"I know." You pause a moment, "I haven't thought of that in a long time. And that queen has been dead for centuries too, she might have lasted longer if I would have stayed. I should have."

"You did what you could, Y/N. Now you have this."

"This." You repeat, like you're testing out the word for the first time, "This ugly little kingdom."

Geralt chuckles as you continue to contemplate why and how everything in your life has led up to you falling in love with a Witcher and now becoming a protective figure over an exiled princess. He squeezes your hand affectionately, "This will not always see dark clouds, you know the sun in bound to rise again." Says Geralt as you give him the ghost of a smile.

"That's not something I've been told often by my kin. Or anyone really."

He shakes his head, "You know what I mean."

"Maybe think of better analogies first you sound like a poet...or Jaskier."

"I thought it was pretty good. And it made you smile." Points Geralt, "See? You're smiling now."

Rolling your eyes do you gently push his face away with the hand holding his cheek, "Oh shush." He takes this hand in his, golden eyes glancing from the white wrapping around the skin as he holds your palm up where a reddish brown stain can be seen filtered through the fabric.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Not as much, I heal quickly remember?"

He looks into your gentle gaze, "I remember. But I will still ask my lover if she is in pain or not."

"And what will you do if she is?"

He grins softly, "I will kiss her sweet lips until all remembrances of her hurt are gone like dewfall to a morning sunrise. How's that sound for poetic?"

"I'd say considerably well, however I'd rather have you distract me with something else then a few pretty words spoken from those lips of yours."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I have in mind a mixture of things, however if you're about to take your top off, now that'd be a wonderful place to start."

Geralt gifts you a handsome grin while you try to hold in your laughter as best you can. Though he turns a bit confused when your expression swiftly shifts to an incredibly focused one, like when a cat is listening to something out of eyesight of their owner. The pupils of your eyes growing small as an ocean pearl as you sense immediate danger, he knows you smell fresh blood being spilt somewhere close.

"Y/N? What is it?" Whispers Geralt, concerned, as your concentration keeps to somewhere over his left shoulder, its almost as though you're entranced by an useable force pulling you towards its light. But what would make you stop everything and not respond? The only thing in the entire world that could cause such a physical reaction is blood. Something you've always struggled with when caught off guard, when you're not anticipating it can you deeper instincts come out to play.

Suddenly you hear a faint scream just as the medallions hanging upon the tree vibrate and shake, the same happening to Geralt's necklace and that of the other Witchers still in the crowded evening hall. Immediately have you snapped out of your deep focus to part from Geralt, "Something feels wrong." You smelt blood....somewhere close...too close.

All the Witcher's medallions shimmer and shake with the sense of something supernatural in the midst, something bad and threatening. Everyone halts their movements to listen to the creaking and jittering of the walls as something large moves within. "Maybe Eskel's leshy wants its hand back." Jests Coen as the pattering and creaking continues, it sounds as though a beast or some giant spider is crawling through the walls.

"Wield your wits, boys." Warns Vesemir as he pulls out his sword.

"I'll help secure the guests." States Lambert already pulling a woman's hand towards the door as her sisters quickly follow.

Coen looks to Vesemir, "I'll check the east wing."

"I'll check the perimeter." Says another as the women leave along with the rest of the Witchers in search of safety or the cause of this damn ruckus.

"We'll find Cirilla." Adds Geralt as he begins to take a step away, you have a hand on him in a second that causes his eyes to land upon you questioningly.

You shake your head in disagreement, "Like fuck you will, I'll find her. You deal with whatever that shit is." He pauses a moment, soon giving you an agreeable nod, "Good, now I'm going to go find her. I'll see you when it's done." Parting from your grasp upon him do you give Vesemir a respectable nod before turning and heading for the doorway.

You leave the puzzled men in the evening hall to talk over their plans as you head off in search of Ciri who's most certainly in her bedroom, hopefully. You pass by a couple frantic women and a Witcher or two as you run down the long stone corridor. Luckily when you reach her door, bursting into her room, are you correct, "What the fuck?"

Ciri sits on the bed in her small room with four other whores standing about her, they all jump in fright when you come charging in to stop and stare at them, a bit surprised. Hand still on the handle do you raise a brow, "Oh, didn't realize you were having a secret meeting without me. I'll come back another time." You jest, pretending to step back and close the door.

"Wait!" Shouts Ciri distraught, "Y/N."

You open up the creaky old door a bit wider, "Just fucking with you. Of course I'm staying, you're one young girl and these ladies here aren't exactly fighting material." Shutting the door behind you does the room feel as though it's been rocked, dust falls from the stone ceiling as the one head girl who you met earlier steps forward to pace a bit.

"Should've known better than to bring my whores to a Witcher den. Danica, you fool." She scolds to herself while pacing around. Ah, so her name is Danica. But why the fuck are they in Ciri's room?

The door opens up yet again to the golden eyes of Lambert, "Stay here. Take cover." He advises before leaving just as quickly as he half-entered, slamming the door shut right after. You doubt he even saw you in here.

Ciri's heartbeat picks up with justifiable panic, "Wait! No, no, no, no!" She runs to the door before opening it, "Lambert! What's happening?!" He's already gone and out of sight.

"Fuck this. I'm not dying here." Says Danica defiantly as she walks past you to where Ciri stands in the doorway, "What's the quickest way out, girl?"

Ciri's dark brows furrow as she takes a second to think, "There's stairs to the nor..."

"Shut it." You snap as their gazes fall to you, "No one is leaving this place. It's a long fucking way back from Kaer Morhen, you don't have proper attire, and it's dark out. How the fuck do you presume you're getting back in once piece?" You ask, stepping in front of Ciri as you tilt your head to Danica who's clearly stressed out.

"What? No, move we can handle our own." She protests, "Step aside."

"We have to stay." Adds Ciri as she steps next to you, looking at Danica, "Geralt.."

"Geralt may be dead already!" Cries Danica, eyes set to your unflinching form before her, "Your darling Witchers may be gone as we speak. Let us go!"

Ciri's eyes widen in fear for this new possibility she hadn't been thinking of as you shake your head, still completely calm about this whole situation, "You're all safest where you are now."

"Look, Witchers fight. We run." A crashing sound is heard that causes the women to gasp and jump in fright. Danica attempts to take a step forward when you slip your dagger from its sheathe, pointing it right at her chest, she freezes and takes a cautious step backwards, hands held up in defense.

You bring the small weapon back down to your side, "Now this is not for you. So to keep all your precious blood from spilling this night I highly advise that you all stay right the fuck here."

Her breaths are heavy with nervous adrenaline as her girls hold her close, "Or what? What will you do if we try to leave?" She challenges, though a tad bit afraid by the shaky tone of her voice.

"Then I'll knock you out. I'm not killing anyone, this dagger is for whatever's causing that noise if god-forbid none of the Witchers can kill it first."

She relaxes only slightly, eyes still as wary and doubtful as before, "So you won't kill us? If we try to run?"

You point the tip of your shiny dagger at her, "I'll make you see darkness instead."

She swallows thickly as her eyes dart from the door behind you to your two very scary red eyes shimmering like rubies in the candlelight. You're most definitely not bluffing and she knows it. "Fine. We'll stay but if we die I'm going to haunt you the most." She threatens as you simply turn around to shut the door.

This is going to be a long night.

A good forty minutes later does the first rays of the sunrise peak into the tiny window of Ciri's room. They fall upon the far wall as you guard the whores and Ciri who's still seated on the bed, too nervous to sleep. You can hear how her heartbeat cannot seem to slow down as she's too worried for Geralt. You know he'll be just fine...you're certain of it. Right?

As the sun crawls across the wall can you hear footsteps slowly walking their way down the hall, headed for either this room or the one across from it where the other whores are. You know these footfalls, you know this heartbeat, soon the door opens up to reveal a disheveled Geralt. The five whores stand and quickly run out of the room, not giving you or Geralt a single glance as they follow Danica to wherever next. You don't care anymore.

Your eyes land upon his dirt smudged face and cut lip and you know something is very wrong. "It was Eskel wasn't it?" You softly whisper as he sighs, expression hard, hiding an inner pain that you can see all too well. Not saying a word do you bring him into your arms, hugging him tightly as he frowns into your neck.

"Is it over?" Asks Ciri as you part from Geralt, "Are we safe?"

He purses his lips together, taking a step closer to her does he put his hands to either shoulder, "Are you okay?"

She gives a little nod of reassurance, "I'm alright. Y/N was here to protect us." He takes his hands off of her fur coated shawl and shares a glance between the two of you.

"Come with me." ——

Standing high upon one of the half destroyed stone balcony's does your cloak flap in the wind as a cool breeze blows your hair back. Though you cannot feel this chill, with one quick breath into your nostrils can you catch a sense that the air is cold as frost on a window. And quite obviously with there being an observable amount of snow, and every time you take a breath out can your exhalation be seen in the form of white mist.

Your gaze tails over the mountainous horizon as the sun rises on a new day, you feel for the Witchers here and the loss of a dearly beloved brother. Eskel was in pain and you cold sense it yet you did nothing, you do feel a bit regretful for not trying to force the matter out of him. But he was one of the ones who could never seem to fully trust you as much as they'd have liked. And for that you gave him his space as not to cause a problem. And anyways, how where you to know a leshy had already gotten to him in the way that it did?

But maybe, just maybe if you would have....no, the matter is gone and done with. He is dead as there is nothing you could do about it, so here you stand as a sort of living gargoyle upon the battlements. Over watching of all that moves in the courtyard below, soon Geralt and Ciri arrive out from a stone arched doorway.

Still rather rough looking does Geralt appear though he cares little of that now. He's brought Cirilla to this place with a purpose you can only assume to be for sword mastery. He's going to teach her a first lesson. You watch as they walk across the snow, listening from afar to what he says to her first, "When I first came to Kaer Morhen, Vesemir said to me that the world outside these walls is a dangerous place."

He pauses for a moment as she looks up at him, "But times are changing, even here. Nowhere is safe now. You can't run from the world. You can't hide from it. But you can find power and purpose." He moves his sword in a gentle methodical motion, "A chance to survive the horror. This Continent was meant for no one." He stops his movements to reach down and pick up a wooden sword.

Geralt holds both silver and wood in his hands as he looks to Ciri, "All you have to do, Ciri, is keep your sword close, and keep moving." He holds it out for her to take, unsure of herself does she slowly grasp her fingers around the hilt.

Holding it now at her side does Geralt give her a look of reassurance before turning in the opposite direction, he assumes a stance. She quickly removes the fur shawl from her shoulders and takes a step forward. Eyes set to how Geralt's moving with his weapon in hand, she does her best to mimic him.

A smile pulls to the corners of your lips as you watch them begin to train, maybe she has what it takes to become a warrior after all?

——

Thanks for reading everyone!

Tagged: @letseatnow @certainwonderlandperfection @rafecameronswhore @diegos-butt @seninjakitey @haleypearce @ashleyforeverareject @beck07990 @kmuir1

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia x you #geralt x you #geralt x y/n #the witcher x reader #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x you #the witcher #henry cavill #fanfiction #fanfic

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gaiuswrites · 3 years

Text

Ashore

Part one | Open Waters

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader

Summary: You and Frankie leave the beach with only one thing on your minds.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3.6k~

Warnings/tags: smut, ✨butt stuff✨, oral (f receiving), some lovey-dovey shit

Notes: Here we are friends. You don’t necessarily have to read Open Waters to understand the contents of this chapter (considering it’s mostly just booty bumpin’). You can thank heathens @javierpcna and @whataperfectwasteoftime for the debauchery to follow. It’s been a while since I’ve written and I’m genuinely nervous to post this lol but alas. We have arrived. Is it shit? Is it pure filth? Who’s to say hehehe. Cheers bebes x

Masterlist | read it on ao3!

The worst part was, you had to get gas.

Frankie drives. You sit beside him.

The return trip is hushed with anticipation—with sullied stain-glass imagery occupying the void. You've said next to nothing since you packed into the car; the only noise comes from the radio—the preset station phasing in and out as you wind along the backroads leading away from the shore—Journey, Jimi, Led Zep and the like all crackling dry through the speakers.

Everything, each micro-movement, feels stifling— like burning ants under a magnifying glass— each gesture riddled with intention, Frankie’s words echoing clear in the caverns of your mind.

He glances left right at an intersection.

‘Anything?’

He flips on the turn signal, blinking one two one two one two.

‘You gonna let me have your tight little ass?’

He steers the wheel with the heel of his palm.

‘When I cum, it’s gonna be here—filling you up.’

The engine rumbles as you idle at a red light—stalling. Dawdling. The sun spills lazily from the horizon, draining the last of the afternoon’s light with it, bleeding the sky scarlet—emboldening the horizon— and you watch as the setting glow catches the hair on his arm—there, resting on the console between you. His hand fists over the gear, knuckles creasing as they tense around the worn, leathered head. You’re playing a game—a silent, ruleless game. You know he can sense you observing him, can feel the heat of your gaze weigh on the flex of his fingers—the same fingers that had ripped an orgasm out of you not two hours before.

You almost unbuckle your damn seatbelt and fly out of your chair. You nearly break with it, with the unspoken tension filling the car like gas and fuck, how you crave him; how you yearn to put those fingers in your mouth and suck—lave the summer clean off his digits and bob around the long width and—

The light turns green.

Frankie resumes his hand to the wheel, your lewd fantasy dissipating along with it.

It’s minuscule. You would have missed it save the fact that you’re so acutely aware of every fucking breath you two share in the aluminum confines of your old Jeep. It’s a subtle thing: Frankie adjusts his hips— innocent enough— but your eyes flicker over to find the groin of his drying swim trunks tented.

You’re not ashamed to say it— your mouth fucking waters, you salivate— and as if on cue, he squirms again, seeking relief from both the blood rushing south and the blister of your stare. His lips part— the rasp of an inhale as he prepares to speak—before his focus is torn down to the dashboard, an orange symbol popping up in the gauge stealing his attention.

“Shit,” Frankie mumbles under his breath. Looking around, he scans for a nearby station and groans at the realization that he’s just passed one, spotting it in the rearview mirror. “Shit.”

You swivel towards the passenger side window, attempting to hide the I told you so expression pulling wry at your mouth. Not that you’ll hang it over him, but you did inform Frankie that the tank was empty on the way to the beach. You hear another muffled curse come from the man beside you, and the world goes topsy-turvy and reverses itself— the act of Frankie making a grumbled U-turn.

He puts the gear into park with a huff, Van Halen’s solo abruptly cut short mid chord.

The car door opens with a rusty squeal and Frankie clambers out, fishing his wallet from his back pocket and swiping his card through the reader at the pump—but not before he squeezes a palm into the plush of your thigh, thumb searing like a brand into your skin. I’ll be quick.

Fuck, you could have cum right then.

Your gaze follows his movements, dogging after him as he waits on the gas to fill— arms folded across his chest, strong build leaning on the frame of your car.

It’s not a novel concept to you, but God is that man broad. The ratty t-shirt he wears clings to him, pulled taut between the plane of his shoulders, the cut of his tricep apparent even from your vantage point; the corded muscle running up his neck flashing as he watches the digital numbers on the screen tick higher.

Shit, you’re aching for him— you can feel yourself throb into the crotch of your swimsuit. You’d have him right here—in the backseat, steaming up the glass— if it weren’t for the overencumbered bags and rickety beach chairs crowding the space.

With herculean effort, you wrench your eyes off him in search of a distraction, letting them drift to the dark flooring of the car. It’s been dirtied—white flecks speckling the interior—and you won’t be able to get the sand out of the matted carpets for weeks. It’s a nuisance, to be sure, but you have to admit that you’re sort of fond of it; little memories, vestiges in the grains, lingering long after the season ends.

Hello, remember me? each granule chirped, remember when we laughed giddy for hours, maddened by the grace of the sun? Remember when we burned red that time we forgot sunscreen? Remember when we bought soft serve from the surf shack and it globbed sticky down our wrists? Remember when we when we when when when…

Frankie, ever practical, hates it. It’s a pain in the ass, he’s told you, regaling you with the woes only a mechanic would care to know. It ruins the upholstery.

You’ve had your exchanges about the topic—your faux-squabbled back and forths—and yet despite himself, he can’t help but like that you like it. Conceptually, he gets it—it annoys him to kingdom fucking come and he’ll almost certainly take the vacuum to the mats first thing tomorrow, but he understands. He understands it.

He understands you.

You’re like that, you and him. You’re different. You are made of different things, a compository of fractures and fragments. Mosaic tiles. You don’t quite fit—not all of you—but you never force the pieces into any sort of place. You admire each other’s mismatched bits, those sweetly quilted jigsaws, and you hold each one up to the light and point at the unique curves, the notches and swoops there, and say I love you, I love this, I love this too.

When Frankie keys up the ignition and puts the car in drive, he keeps his hand on your lap. Arm resting over the median dividing you, calloused palm sealing over your quad, his fingertips knead a pulse into the meat of your leg with each bump in the poorly paved road— a reminder. A vow. Almost home.

You think he does it just to torture you.

It fucking works.

The sound of laughter parts the front door as you enter— Frankie had made some colorful comment about your absolute favorite neighbors, the ones who always leave their damn garbage bins in front of your driveway— and your key ring clatters as it hits the bowl on the side table.

You discard the bags, plopping the sandy things down in the entryway, and kick off your sandals— bare soles padding along lacquered wood paneling as you head to the kitchen for some much needed water.

The sound of the tap running camouflages Frankie’s movement, you don’t hear him behind you. He’s got stealth in him, harbored there from before. He’s light on his feet when he chooses to be—nimble-like, bordering on feline—and you startle with a bubbly chuckle when you spin around to discover him far closer than you anticipated.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping us hydrated,” you grin, as if it were obvious. You’re welcome.

He hums, the note rumbling against the cage of his ribs, and lessens the distance between you with a single stride. “That can wait.”

He rids you of the glasses, hurriedly placing them on the counter, and meets you in a kiss—and fuck can that man kiss. Frankie, like with all things, is responsive—attentive. His lips are fever-laced and wanton, and he roves against yours like they’re designed to— fated for no one else’s but your own— nipping and tonguing at your honeyed whines, orphaned there in the well of your mouth.

His hands vine up your body, so deprived of the luxury of your form - of touch - and he grabs at anything he can— your hips, your waist, your breasts through the cotton of your shirt— their half moon curves sitting ripe in his palms.

After ushering you up to the countertop, he strips you of your jean shorts, your bikini bottom sloughing down your calves along with them, and hoists your feet onto the fake granite, prying your legs wide for him.

When he gets an eyeful of your gleaming pussy, pearled with arousal, the wind gets punched straight out of him.

“Jesus honey,” he groans, “you been like this the whole ride home?”

Your brain is numb, lagging with lust. You don’t trust your voice to speak—all you can do is nod.

“Poor thing,” he simpers. “Poor pretty thing, all wound up for me—all wet.”

You whimper at his tone—graveled, just shy of condescending—and your knees weaken shut before he snatches them apart.

“Sit still.”

It’s a command, there’s no room for disobedience; he orders it with a soldier's voice—that dead thing he wears like dog tags around his neck. Vice grip widening your legs, Frankie sinks down onto his shins, head leveled with your core, engrossed with the sight of your damp sex quivering.

Blotchy warmth creeps up your neck, like ivy crawling over brick.

He’s staring at you— hungry and possessed and simply staring at your open cunt and you begin to fidget once more—riling under his umbered appraisal.

“Sit still baby girl,” he murmurs, softer now and desperate too—intoxicated with the heady perfume of your heat. “Lemme just— fuck, I gotta taste you…”

When he swipes the deft muscle of his tongue through your slit, your head careens back onto the cabinets, plates and bowls rattling behind the wood.

Oh god, Frankie.

He’s got a talent for this— an excruciating, body wracking talent. He thirsts for you something dangerous, something unquenchable; he tugs at your labia, forming his lips around your clit, lapping at your essence— the ocean musk, that sea foam wet.

You fumble through his hair, mussing the saline woven strands with urgent fingers as you grind grind grind, rolling your hips to meet him in a covetous show of want and he purrs into your pussy as you fuck his face, the scratch of his stubble chafing at your legs.

It doesn’t take long, not with the fervor of how he’s claiming your cunt with his mouth. You soak Frankie’s chin— you nearly fucking drown him with it—and he’s glistening with you when he finally emerges for air, pulling you to him to slant his lips against yours, letting you savor your own taste on his hot tongue.

“Bedroom. Now,” he husks, breath hitching as his nose grazes along your ear, and with two hands under your armpits, he gathers you off the countertop. Frankie lands a swat at the plump of your backside, sending you scurrying through the living room with a shriek—completely bypassing the abandoned pile of laundry left lying on the couch.

He smirks—delirious and ramrod stiff—sauntering behind you, enamored with the pendulum sway of your hips as you lead him to the bed.

You’ve never been here. You’ve never gone this far. You both have tiptoed this narrow line for months; he’s fingered your ass plenty—you have even gone so far as to don a butt plug. You’ve discussed anal—toyed with the idea, flirted in circles around it like tittering birds.

But you’ve never taken Frankie’s cock. Not yet.

He’s been working you loose and limber for the better part of fifteen minutes, delving himself knuckle deep into your slicked hole until you’re sputtering for more— until you’re downright sopping and fucking shaking— and not with trepidation but with desire. Frankie’s made you gluttonous. Frankie’s made you voracious.

You’re starving for him.

“You gonna let me have this now?” He presses a digit over your ass, kissing his thumb into the knot there.

You tremble, nodding frantic.

“Think this pretty little ass can take me, baby?”

He serves you a slap, plush skin jiggling and pricking pink under his palm. You keen into him, in search of the promise he’s been baiting you with and you arch your hips, gyrating back onto fucking nothing.

“Yes. Yes—” You twist, chin corkscrewed around to see him. You want to watch. You want to watch as he disappears inside you— as you swallow him.

“A-Are you sure?” he asks, suddenly gone gentle around the lines fraying from his eyes—those wrinkles he’s hard-earned and won, like badges, like medals—from all his years spent under an unforgiving sun, all of that which he has seen and endured. Survived. Your Frankie, always thoughtful, always checking. A goddamn gentleman, even now—even as his dick brays hard and angry against the soft of his tawny stomach. “Because really, we don’t have to—”

You cut him off with a whimper, splaying your pelvis up to him—spreading yourself, letting him see the filth dripping from your seam, dappling your inner thighs. “Fuck me,” you whine, both holes puckering for him. “Fill me up, like you said you would— please.”

Something shifts across his features like a shadow and his expression morphs until it steels— his pupils dilating to a predatorial onyx— and he spits into his palm, coating his shaft, jerking himself with it.

He hisses as he guides himself into you, as you accommodate around him, as you envelop him entirely— inch by veritable inch. He has to station a hand to the base of your lumbar, struggling to maintain his composure—air rattling in and out his lungs as he attempts to breathe.

“Shit,” he gasps, “t-this okay?”

You fist the comforter, coiling the fabric into a ball. It’s a stretch— it’s a real goddamn stretch— and briefly you consider that he might, in fact, snap you in two...

Francisco Morales is going to split you clean in half—and God, if you don’t you love it.

“Yes - yes baby - keep going. D-Don’t stop.”

He pitches into you, setting a legato tempo— transfixed by the lurid juncture where you converge into one. “You- you’re so tight. Shit, you’re—”

He silences himself with a delicious moan, biting at his lower lip until the vessels there burst and it purples, and deals a particularly aggressive thrust— one you respond to with an ugly wail of your own, eyes somersaulting in their sockets.

You’re both impatient, verging on rabid, and it doesn’t take long for him to set a rougher pace and fuck you faster - harder - hammering into your ass until you see stars, popping and fizzing in front of your retinas, a symphony of guttural grunts and carnal praise fogging up the bedroom.

Your pussy feels so empty you could cry—weeping and gaping and fluttering for him as he takes your tight ring of muscle, fucking himself to the hilt. It’s like he’s behind your brain—like he’s carved his way up your spine and nudging at the nape of your neck with how deep he’s driving into you—restless. Ceaseless. His balls slap slap slap against your puffy cunt and you pant— girlish and buoyant with the dulled smacks to your sore clit.

“Please,” you sob, “Please, I need—”

You can barely push the words out—your mind is of no help and your tongue lolls useless, languid in your mouth. Your motor functions have all but puttered to a halt, every scrap of you fighting to stay above the sensation that’s threatening to drag you under its current. The rip tide of it all, of Frankie’s cock, coursing through your ass, tempting to hurdle you out into the dark, wet blue.

“Tell me,” Frankie rasps, scraping through his throat. “Tell me, pretty baby.”

Your response is pathetic—you can hardly dignify it as a response at all. Your temple is pressed into the mattress, hair knotted with brine and sand, and all you can do is coo.

Frankie folds over you, angling himself to graze his teeth over your shoulder—savoring the salt and sex tang bathing your skin, all those pheromones and velveteen chemicals anointing you—baptizing you anew for him. He’s gruff when he murmurs, his beard grating your freshly tanned skin.

“C’mon sweetheart - hng, fuck - what do you need?”

“My clit,” you rush out, needy. “My clit. Please, oh my god Frankie I-I need you to, I need – oh fuck—” And your pleas are mummed by a rapturous moan as he trails his hand from the hollow of your hip to the apex of your cleft and flicks.

Fuck. Fuck, oh Christ—

There’s a ringing in your ears, buzzing you deaf, making you dumb—or maybe it’s just your heart, beating loud and errant against your skull—you can’t say. You don’t feel human. Frankie’s pounding into that cinched channel and playing with your clit—swiveling eddies into your swollen nub—and you feel like an animal. You feel debased. You feel disgusting and perfect and you’re fucking drooling; cheek squished and mouth agape, saliva pools from your wagging maw, darkening the white linen you’re being driven into.

“You need me in your pussy, too?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer him— he already knows what you need, how you need to have every part of you gorged on him— and Frankie dips his fingertips into your entrance, hooking them up and up and in, fucking in time to the cant of his hips.

He’s in you. Everywhere, everywhere—every possible neuron and synapse consumed with him.

“You need me like this—fucking you this deep? Fucking both your pretty holes?” he growls, weaving his hand lower to grab a fistful of your hair, rucking your head up. Throat stretched bare for him, your mewls muddle to cock-drunk cries as he spears you on himself again and again and again.

Yes yes yes fuck harder please please Frankie

You're pleading with him—you’ve been reduced to meager begging— and a chorus of slurs sings your release as you contract around him and cum, the cradle of your hips bucking reflexively.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he seethes, “you’re so good for me baby, Jesus fuck—”

He’s close now—his blissed finish drawing nearer and nearer with each sharp snap of his hips. Frankly, he’s shocked he’s managed to last as long as he has; it’s a small miracle he hadn’t cum the instant he slotted himself inside you with that very first stroke.

“Baby,” he warns, losing his rhythm. You saddle your spine, hollowing out the valley of your back and arch pretty and supple for him— preening under his weight. He moans at that, and through your fucked out haze you have the wherewithal to smirk at him, devious and prideful, a wild look owning your eye.

Frankie has to brace himself on your hips, untangling from your locks to bruise into the pillow of your skin— gripping on for dear fucking life as he plows you. You’re strangling him. You’re strangling the thick of his cock until he’s dizzy with it—until he’s feral and blind and he can’t hold on, can’t keep fighting this fucking monsoon that’s raging in his core.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna—fuck me, oh shit—” He shouts, spurting inside you thrust for thrust, painting your virgin walls with his seed. It’s too much— after all that, and you’re still too tight— and he’s overstimulated to the point of delirium. Frankie roots himself still, cum dribbling out your stuffed hole while he rides out the high of his orgasm—his vision, his senses, his goddamn soul, slowly oozing back into him. When he slides free from you, he does so with a pained heave, leaving you yawning with his absence.

You feel shredded. Vacant. You’ve been sent to another fucking dimension all together.

Without wasting another second, Frankie claws you up. You’re easy and malleable, bones and muscles too strung out to protest, and he whirls you around to bar you to his chest—crushing your sweaty body to his with bullet marred arms— the same arms that have taken lives, that have spared them, too. The same arms that link around you, delicate and daisy-chained, like you’re the most precious thing he has.

And you are.

You are.

Frankie kisses you breathless, drinking rich from your cup— tongue greedy and reverent as he kneels there at your altar, praying his sins into your mouth.

So gorgeous, he croons, peppering your face—your flushed cheeks, your perspired brow—with his lips as he tells you over and over and over again.

So good for me, pretty baby

Was that okay?

Fuck, you’re a dream

You’re my best girl—you’re my only girl

Was that okay?

God, you’re my whole fucking world

Was that okay? Was I okay?

Are you okay?

You swoon, helpless to the contented sigh that seeps out from you like mist. You’ve gone limp against the breadth of him. He has reduced you to rubber, left wobbling in his grasp, and you’re so damn full—your heart and your body—all of it. You feel unequivocally complete. You feel safe, you feel home.

You are home. Francisco is home.

He’s flattening out the nest of your hair, taming the damage he previously delivered to it, earning from you a sleepy grin into the muggy crook of his neck. And with the last of your waning strength you hold his pieces up to the light—the light you left on in the hall as the night grew dark around you, the one who’s yellow glow your naked bodies bask in now, and you say

I love you

I love this

I love this too

tags:

@krissology @heartsofbeskar @madhattervanessa @andiesturgss @sharkbait77 @tenderwhat @javier-pena @pedros-mustache @frannyzooey @chasingdreamer @djarinsbeskar @thosewickedlovelies @juletheghoul @not-the-droids @filthybookworm @pilothusband @letterfromvienna @keeper0fthestars @greatcircle79 @day-off-inkyoto @mermaidxatxheart @lawfulgranola @heatherbel @quica-quica-quica @stuckonthefiction @janesbrontes

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #Frankie morales fanfic #Frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie x you #frankie x reader

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poursomesunaonme · 2 years

Note

HIIII FIRST OFF CONGRATS ON 50!!! Well deserved!!!

I’m so glad I came across your page a bit ago, and I have loved all your content so far! Sorry I’m not in your ask box, I got a lil confused on how to message you from there about your ‘cuffing season’ event. But I was hoping I could request for one?

My favorite characters: Jean or Nanami

Fav color: purple & brown

Fav drink: don’t really have one🥴

Ideal fall date: either like going to a pottery place kind of thing, or going to like a fall festival or horror night

Fall habits: I tend to get more inspiration for my sketching and drawing in the fall. I usually hit a block and around this time I just start filling up my sketch book pages every day. I love baking in the fall, it just feels more homey? What I wear in the fall is a lot of like long sleeves under shirts, crop tops with cargos and like a open button up over with converse or my doc martens. Basically:

With jewelry and changing up earrings all the time with my piercings. The thing I love about the fall is that I feel a lot more relaxed and calm? The weather is colder and the nights are longer, more stars seem to be out. In the fall I tend to get more serious in school though, I make sure to go to like cafes to do hw to prevent me getting distracted etc.

And I’d prefer if this could be sfw.

Sorry if this was too much😭 thank you am if you even took the time to read this<3

thank you sooooo much for participating babe! ugh i literally love this so much!! this was literally so fun to write pls send in whatever anytime u want bbygirl😫😫

word count: 2.6k

content/warnings: jean fluff, it’s literally so soft i can’t, sfw, artist!jean

author’s note: yalll i finished my last school related thing of the week today so now all my time will be dedicated to working on these!! stay tuned and submit if u wanna<3

cuffing season nav page

you hunch over your sketchbook, revealing more of your back to the warmth of the sun. a sigh escapes your lips as the heat already starts to seep through your layers of clothes; so much so that it nearly threatens to make you take off one of them. you shake your head to yourself, sneaking a look at the table to make sure that everything is in its right place. your baked goods were spread before you, on display for the passersby to buy when they craved a treat. jean scoots his chair closer to you, peeking at your drawing through the curtain of your hair.

“watch the table, babe!” you swat him away, covering your unfinished work with a splayed hand. he merely laughs at your meekness, but he obeys you, pulling away to give you space. with an elbow resting on the table, he cradles his head on his hand, watching you through lidded eyes.

“no fair, why do you get to draw?” he pouts at your inattentiveness to him, nudging your boot with his. you shoot a glance up at him, heart skipping a beat at the warm caramel of his eyes studying you. eyes ducking down to your paper once again, you feel a blush rise to your cheeks, a welcome contrast against the nippy autumn air.

“because i bake all the goods, you sell them. that’s how this business works.”

“i helped bake!” the indignance in his voice draws a giggle out of you. his face was clear as day in your mind even though you weren’t looking at him. the way he would grit his teeth, his eyes wide and alight with passion over something so trivial. your eyes roll as you remember the sight that he was that morning as he basically destroyed your kitchen.

“eating batter and spilling a whole sack of flour is not helping,” you point out, nudging your elbow against him. he throws up his hands, giving you an opportunity to lean into him. he stiffens, surprised at how easily your mock anger dissipates, but he relents, wrapping his arms around you and giving a kiss to your temple.

“fine, fine, you win,” he cedes into your hair. you straighten up at the sight of a little boy and his mother coming to buy your goods. jean assumes his role as a salesman, releasing your frame to attend to the customers. his smile flashes bright as a summer day as he easily pursues banter with the family, complimenting the woman and chatting with her son. your mind flies back to that morning as you idly doodle in your sketchbook.

both of you had gotten up early to prepare for the festival. jean was more than happy to assist you, but his talents, when it came to the kitchen, were for cooking only. put a baking sheet in his hand, and there’s no telling what he would do with it - anything but baking.

you had made your perch on the countertop, taking a break from scurrying around the kitchen with your last batch in the oven. jean was clutching his stomach, complaining about a stomach ache. you teased him relentlessly, knowing it was the amount of batter he had ingested whenever you weren’t looking.

he had attempted to help you clean up, the first thing being to help you put away the old ingredients that you didn’t need anymore. he went for the flour, and then somehow, it slipped out of his hands. the bag blew up in a cloud of white dust on the floor. you could only imagine the image of your face at the sight of jean standing there, hands still open, now covered head to toe in the substance.

but still, you tousled his hair and planted kisses on his lips, grimacing at the gritty sensation of the flour. not wanting to get too carried away, you gave him a great mock scolding and told him to clean up and shower. you ignored the fact that he argued that a man covered in flour would make the goods easier to sell, because “it looks like genuine effort.”

jean finishes his sale, somehow managing to seal the deal on the family taking almost half of your goods. after they leave with a whole box of pumpkin-decorated cupcakes, he turns to you with a cocky smile. you merely roll your eyes at him, then get back to the work at your fingertips.

he gives you a few minutes of peace and quiet, enthralled by your focus and the way your pencil flits gracefully across the paper, guided by the hand of the most beautiful visionary. the festival was nearing its least popular time, with not many people milling around as they had earlier. jean takes the time to memorize every inch of your face, every mannerism you execute.

you still hadn’t looked up at him after five minutes, which he obviously took offense to. he invades your personal space again, so you jab the eraser end of your pencil into his chest to ward him off, drawing a winded exhale from his lungs.

“ow, y/n!” he whines, giving you the saddest puppy look you’d ever seen displayed on his face. it obviously didn’t hurt him, but he was exceptional at being dramatic.

“just let me draw, dummy,” you tease, batting your eyelashes at him before you turn back to your work. his fingers lace underneath your chin to turn your head towards him. he lifts it in different directions as his eyes study the beauty he beholds.

“but it’s really slow right now,” he breathes, fingers ghosting across the side of your face as his hand withdraws from the contact. “how about i draw you?”

your lips press into a hard line. in all the time that you and jean had been together, not once had he revealed to you any of the work he had made of you (if any of it actually existed). but, curious to see how it would turn out, you humor him.

“okay, fine,” you huff with a bright smile, “i’ll draw you too.”

you hadn’t noticed that his sketchbook was sitting on the corner of the table until he retrieves it, flipping through the pages to find a blank one. you abandon the page of doodles you’d been idly working on in favor of a clean sheet. the two of you situate your bodies to face each other, and the magic begins.

your idea is to draw jean with his arms crossed behind his head, laying on the leaf covered ground. you don’t need to look up at him, as you have his features well-memorized, but you do it just for fun. it seems that your brains are connected; everytime you steal a glance, so does he.

every so often, you look up to find him in a trance as he relishes in your features. your heart threatens to give out at the amount of times it skips a beat at his loving gaze. no one else disturbs your focus, with the festival being pretty empty at the time.

you bask in the intimacy of it all, at the fleeting glances and lengthy stares. how jean’s determination was etched into the space between his eyebrows and his laughter lines. how his tongue sticks out in focus at the particularly difficult points of his sketch.

the pencils tell stories of features that had long been burned into your memories. you could draw jean without needing to look at him. the sharp curve of his jaw, his strong nose, deep, soft eyes; but you like to be reminded of his beauty in those short glances you steal.

your two dimensional jean stares back at you with a playful air as you dust off the eraser shavings, revealing the whole picture. you set your sketchbook on the table, far enough away to prevent him from stealing a glance. he notices your movements and finishes off his drawing quickly, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he scribbles furiously. you wonder what his drawing will look like with those violent flicks of his pencil.

he straightens up with a triumphant smile, patting the sheet gently. his eyes rise to meet your gaze as he grins and grips the sketchbook with excitement. a laugh flows through your nose while a gentle smile blesses your lips at his adorable mannerisms. he takes in a big breath, then shoves the sketchbook towards you with an exuberant flashiness.

“okay, here it is!”

the smile on your face is quickly replaced with a grimace at the sight of what jean had drawn. it’s a childish sketch, at best. you lean forward to study it, completely missing how jean covers his mouth to contain a loud guffaw. the drawing doesn’t get any better close up.

you assume that it’s you, since it’s a barely developed stick figure, sitting in a chair. you can make out the table on your right, decorated with poorly drawn cupcakes. the expression on your face can only be described as devilish - because he had drawn devil horns on your head… mature. your mouth is open and bearing sharp teeth as your eyebrows turn down into a malicious v.

the speech bubbles that flutter around your head are littered with censored expletives, expressing some kind of rage that you didn’t understand yourself. jean loses his control over himself, doubling over, snorting with laughter. you pull back, still utterly confused at what he had done. your eyes flit back to your sketch, heart sinking slightly at the unrequited effort.

“jean, what the hell is that?” you can’t help the anger that laces your voice, with undertones of disappointment. he straightens up, wiping a tear from his eye. tossing the sketchbook on the table, he crosses one leg over the other.

“it’s you twenty minutes ago,” he shrugs nonchalantly. you feel like such a baby at the sensation of tears prickling in your nose, but you grab your sketchbook anyway, flipping through the pages of idle doodles to find your work of jean.

“well, i hope this guilt trips you,” you shoot at him, turning the pad around to reveal your art. his eyes widen; he takes the piece to study it up close. you sit back and cross your arms over your chest, still wildly indignant at the lack of effort he put into drawing you. after he had practically begged you to let him.

“y/n…” jean’s voice had softened as he looks back up at you. your heart skips a beat at the admiration on his face at the wonderful portrayal you had made of him. he gently hands the sketchbook back to you, your fingers brushing together. your cheeks warm as your heart relents in your feelings towards him - making him happy makes you happy.

jean flashes a devilish grin at you, grabbing his notebook once again. he flips manically through the pages before finding what he wanted. taking a dramatic deep breath and closing his eyes, he rests the book face book on his lap before making an obnoxiously loud announcement.

“i hope you dont have socks on!” he declares, eyes still squeezed shut. a smile rises to your face as you interrupt him before he can speak again.

“of course i have socks on, babe,” you counter, stifling a giggle with your palm, “it’s cold.”

he slouches, defeated by your impeccable logic. “okay well, you see,” he begins, eyes opening to gaze into yours. “i already had this done before we started. i was just messing with you with the other one.”

your heart flutters in your chest as he picks up the notebook, about to turn it around to show you what he had seriously done. a ball of excitement bursts in your chest; you attempt to stifle it, not wanting to get disappointed like the last time, but something tells you that this will be different.

“go on, let’s see it.” you try to put on a strong face, but you crumble as soon as you see the first inch of the page as he slowly turns it around.

“ta-da,” he cheers quietly, face softening at the sight of you beholding what he had drawn. you scoot in to get a closer look, resting a hand on his thigh. his hand comes to clasp yours, gently rubbing his thumb in circles across your cold skin.

you’re still in disbelief as you pore over his drawing. it was of you, sitting cross legged in your chair, your sketchbook in your lap. overall, the sketch was done so gracefully, so softly, and that translated to a portrayal of yourself that you had never seen before. you’re enthralled by it all, the cascade of your hair into your face, the gentle curve of your smile as you sheepishly grinned at the beholder.

you look absolutely radiant, like an angel fallen straight from the heavens. jean’s admiration of you is painfully apparent in the drawing. he surrounded your frame with stars, the shading around you appearing to be as if you were physically beaming with the rays of the sun. you run your fingers over the page, heart expanding to fill your whole chest cavity.

when you finally bring yourself to tear your eyes away from the drawing, jean is gazing at you with an immeasurable amount of love in his eyes. tears gather along your waterline, threatening to spill out as he swoops down to press a gentle kiss on your lips.

“wow, jean… it’s…” you can’t even finish a sentence before you choke up, a baby tear escaping your eye. you brush it away quickly as jean plants a kiss on your forehead. he gives you time to process the drawing, gathering a piece of your hair and twirling it around his finger.

“it’s the most beautiful i’ve ever seen myself.” it was the only way you could describe it. you didn’t think you ever looked that gentle, that radiant, that alluring. he portrayed you with such an angelic aura that you could barely believe that he had actually drawn you. a soft sigh escapes his mouth as he cups your chin, bringing you to face him.

“it’s how i see you all the time.”

you think that your heart must have exploded in your chest at that very moment.

you throw yourself onto him with such a force that you knock over his chair; and soon the two of you are rolling around in the crunchy leaves, laughing. the joy you felt was nothing compared to anything else you had ever experienced, being the dazzling vision in the life of someone you loved with your whole heart.

after the sappy scene of affection, the two of you go back to manning the table, occasionally picking leaves out of the others’ hair as the customers begin to trickle through the grounds for the end of the festival. jean’s hand rests on your thigh, squeezing the muscle every once in a while, hearkening you back to his love for you, begging you to be reminded of the adoration he beheld you with every moment of every day.

and at the end of the day, after you had packed up your things - or lack thereof, since jean had managed to sell every last treat - the two of you head home. your heart beats fast in your chest as you imagine what else jean had drawn of you. a soft smile makes its home on your face, basking in the simple show of love he had showered you with. finally, as the two of you settle into bed, jean wraps his arms around you, surrounding you with a protective barrier of adoration and whispering praises into your ear, even long after you had fallen asleep.

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

Note

fixing their jacket collar or hood for anyone :) congratulations on 700 again and i hope u have the loveliest of lovely days

You Better Beleaf It

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre - Autumn Leaves

Elide drags Lorcan out to look at the changing leaves. He’ll deny it if you ask, but he enjoyed himself.

I know it took me a while to answer this but I thought it'd be a perfect little autumn fic 🍁 I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Halloween Collection

Warnings: Language

1898 words

*******

“Remind me again why we’re out here?” Lorcan drawled from beside her.

Elide rolled her eyes but continued to take pictures of the trees.

They’d both had the day off and she insisted they drive over to the nature reserve to look at the changing leaves. They’d parked on the side of a quiet road and had spent the last twenty minutes enjoying the views and the breeze.

She knew that as much as he was complaining, her boyfriend was just as happy to be out here with her. Okay, maybe not as happy, Autumn was her favorite season after all and she would admit that maybe, possibly she something went a little overboard in her obsession with the season.

But how could she not love the way all the coffee shops started smelling like pumpkin and caramel, or how she could wear her (and Lorcan’s) flannel and leather as much as she wanted, or how the leaves on the trees became such beautiful, bright colors.

Not to mention being able to deck their entire apartment out in Halloween décor. She’d lost count of how many bats, pumpkins, and ghosts now littered their walls and rooms.

And a lot of it was black, so Lorcan felt right at home.

“We’re out here,” she told him again, “because the leaves are changing color and it’s a beautiful day.”

He rolled his eyes but kept her hand snug in his. “But why are you taking so many pictures?” he asked as she lifted her phone to get a better angle of a canopy of trees. He waved his free hand around at the leaves. “This happens every year, are your thousands of pictures today going to look different form the thousands you took last year? Or yesterday?”

Elide halted and used her grip on Lorcan’s hand to pull him to a stop. “First of all, its magical so shut up.” She ginned as he loosed a long-suffering sigh. “Second of all,” she pressed herself closer to Lorcan and spun the phone around as she reached out a hand and attempted to take a selfie of the two of them, “it is different because this particular picture isn’t in my batch from last year. Or yesterday.”

She flicked through her phone to see the photo she just took and frowned.

“What?” Lorcan asked, stepping behind her to rest his chin on top of her head. “not up to your postable standards?”

She laughed and leaned farther back into his warm chest. “Look at it,” she showed him the photo. “The top of your head is cut off and the part of your face that I can see is frowning. And the lighting wasn’t great.”

She felt more than heard his chest rumble as he chuckled. “That’s what happens, El, when you try to use your tiny arm to get us both in the photo.”

She huffed and pressed her phone into his hand. “It’s not my fault you’re a giant.”

“No,” he brought his mouth down towards her ear and she shivered as his breath caressed her skin. “But you love it.” She could feel him smirking.

She was grinning but squeezed his arms as she said, “I’d love it even more you used your obscenely long arms to take a picture of the two of us.”

Lorcan nipped at her ear but took the phone from her and opened the camera. He took a sweet photo of the two of them, Elide pressed against his chest with one arm wrapped around her and the other holding the phone, with the brilliant reds and golds of the leaves behind them.

“Come on, Lor, smile for the camera!” She watched him roll his eyes through the camera screen, but his lips lifted to form a small half-smile. He clicked the button a few more times.

Just as Elide was ready to take her phone back, she caught a wicked gleam in his eye. She narrowed her eyes, but he’d already used his grip around her waist to hoist her in the air and up into his arms. She squealed at the sudden movement and felt him laugh at her reaction. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she sheard the click of her phone again.

Lorcan grinned as he set her back on her feet and handed her the phone.

“Babe, these are perfect,” she beamed before gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him into a kiss.

“Good,” he muttered while draping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. “Now can we just walk without taking a picture every two steps?”

Elide rolled her eyes but wrapped her arm around Lorcan's waist and letting her hand slide into his back pocket. “I’ll put it away for now, but I won’t promise I won’t be taking any more.”

They followed the pavement until it ended, then continued through the grass-covered path. The sun was moving across the sky and beams of sunlight filtered through the colorful leaves. At one point, Lorcan helped her over a particular tall log before they found a stream weaving through the reserve.

“Hang on a minute, I want to wash some of this gunk off my hands.” She told him as she approached the water. She’d tried pushing a branch out of her way only to get a handful of wet mud probably left by some animal scampering up the tree.

Elide quickly rinsed her hands off, hissing at how icy the water felt. As hastily as she could, she plucked her hands out and dried them on her sweater.

Unfortunately, the frigid water only made her realize how chilly the evening had become. She and Lorcan had been walking long enough that the sun was starting to set, and the wind had picked up, leaving her still-damp hands to freeze.

Lorcan was sitting on the edge of a large rock and looked up from his phone as she walked back towards him. “Better?”

“Mhmm.” She agreed, stepping in between his spread legs. “But I think we should head back.”

He smirked and gripped her hips, pulling her closer. “Oh really? Have you finally had enough of the trees?”

“Don’t mock me.” She glared at him, but it lacked any real anger. An involuntary shiver racked through her body and she clenched her teeth as she said, “It’s cold, let's go back. It’s gonna take us a while to walk to the car.”

She made to step out of his grip, but he held her tighter, frowning as she kept shivering. His hands left her hips and started rubbing up and down her arms, trying to help her warm up. “Why didn’t you say anything? We could’ve turned back a while ago.”

She reached up and brushed a finger over the furrowed skin at his brow, loving the feeling of his large hands roaming over her body. “I didn’t notice it before.” She said, rolling her eyes.

He pulled his phone out and glanced at the clock. His frown deepened. “We’ve got at least an hour of walking if we don’t stop for anymore pictures.” He told her and raised a brow in question.

She huffed but nodded. “Fine, no more pictures.”

Lorcan put his phone back in his pocket and chuckled. “You’re the one who’s cold, if you want to stop it’ll just take longer to get back to the car.”

She hummed in agreement. “I’m looking forward to those heated seats.”

He flashed her a small grin before nudging her backward so he could stand from the rock. The second his hands left her body, she started shivering again which only brought Lorcan’s frown back in full force.

“Here.” He unzipped and shrugged off his jacket and before she could protest and swung it around to hang off her shoulders.

“Lor, I don’t want to take your jacket.” She protested, but it came out weak as she already felt the warmth seep back into her.

He raised a brow and his lips quirked up at her half-assed refusal. “I think I can survive the chill,” he held the coat as she maneuvered each of her arms into the far-too-long sleeves. “You, on the other hand, are already shaking so hard I can hear your teeth chattering.”

Lorcan waited until she got the jacket zipped before helping her roll up the sleeves. It was almost comical how much longer his arms were then here, and she told him as much. He just rolled his eyes.

Finally, his hands traced up her arms and over her shoulders to flip down the collar of the jacket that had gotten rumpled.

Lorcan met her stare, his hands still clutching the edges of the collar, and used his grip to pull her closer towards him. Their lips crashed together and Elide moved her hands to wrap around his middle, pulling him flush against her.

One of his hands moved to her hair, weaving his fingers through it to help tilt her head to a better angle. Her hands came to rest of his ass and he smirked into the kiss as she gave a squeeze.

He laughed as he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. “Really, Lochan?”

Elide grinned and squeezed again. “Get me back home and I’ll let you do more than that to me.” She winked as his smirk widened.

“You think you can wait that long?” he snaked a hand down her back until it rested over her ass. She opened her mouth to reply but he brought his hand down in a light slap that made her choke on her words. He grinned even wider.

She pulled away and smirked as she held out her hand for him. “Come on, Salvaterre. Before I freeze and you end up with an icicle for a girlfriend.”

Lorcan huffed a laugh but grabbed her hand and pulled her back into his side as they started to walk towards their car.

“An icicle would spend less time taking pictures.” He teased.

She gasped. “I’m going to do you a favor and pretend you didn’t say that.”

Once they got back on the paved path Lorcan asked, “So, did the leaves live up to your expectations? Or do I have another scenic tour to dread.”

“Oh hush,” she poked his stomach. “don’t pretend like you didn’t have a good time. You can tell everyone else that you spent the afternoon brooding as your girlfriend selfishly dragged you through a horrendous afternoon,” she rolled her eyes, “but I have proof that you enjoyed yourself.”

“Proof? Is that right?” he raised a brow but grinned down at her.

“See!” She pointed at his grin. “That right there. I have proof of that.”

Lorcan grunted but squeezed her a little tighter. “Oh?”

Elide patted the pocket of her—Lorcan’s—jacket that held her phone. “I have photographic evidence that the mean, grumpy, brutish Lorcan Salvaterre,’ she paused dramatically, “smiles.”

He shook his head and laughed at her excited grin.

“Not only that,” she went on, “but proof that he had fun while looking at autumn leaves.” She gasped mockingly.

“Ha ha.” he deadpanned. “You’re hilarious.”

Her grin turned feline, and her eyes twinkled before she said, “You better beleaf it.”

His groan and her laughter echoed through the trees as they finally got back to their car.

*****

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