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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 24 days

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Temporary Fix! || skirt chaser!Johnny

Rating: E Words: 4.1K~ CW: smut smut smut, a bit of BAD dirty talking, oral sex (m!receiving), protected piv sex, breath play (if you squint), praise kink (lots of 'that's it' + 1 'good girl'). Tags: afab!reader, fat/chubby!reader, you/your pronouns, one-night stand but more like one-week stand. Summary: Johnny's a dog who can't keep it in his pants. a/n: this is for my chubby gals and also for my @crashtestbunny because I wanted her to be able to read this and not have the previous cheating plot in place.

The thing about soldiers… Is that they tend to have lovers. As in, for as long as they stay deployed in a country, they’re bound to get themselves a toy they can have a shag with. Sometimes it’s prostitutes. Sometimes it’s regular women.

This is a lot more common for enlisted soldiers in the Army. The types that get deployed for 9 to 18 months at a time when they're very young, fighting in a war that keeps them far away from home for so long that they “can’t help” but seek affection from local women.

But that’s not to mean Special Forces soldiers, especially those kept on ‘stand by’, always ready for a quick deployment that, at most, lasts a month or two, don’t do it. They do.

John Alistair MacTavish is a grown man, not one of those young lads of 18, recently out basic, who need a whole to bury their cock in or else they'll die. But you wouldn’t think that, seeing as he's constantly seeking out action on the side.

He goes on and on about how childish those stupid recruits are, about some of his old mates who'd shag anything that walks... Only to then leave base with his team to end up at some bar or club in civvy clothes, find a nice bird or bloke (he’s not picky) and go home with them.

A hypocrite, any normal person would call him, a womanizer, a skirt chaser, a player... He’s not above calling himself that. But sometimes he just needs to decompress! That's his excuse anyway. Decompressing. Letting out pent-up aggression. Orgasms are great stress-relievers...

And as useful as his fist is, he’s not a sixteen-year-old anymore, rubbing one out in his bathroom during a quick shower. That just doesn’t cut it anymore. If he has the option to shag someone, why wouldn’t he?

Now that he’s in the 141, the philandering just gets much worse. Whenever they have downtime on a foreign location somewhere, a night free before they return to England, or a night before they get the go-ahead to go on a mission, what have you… He’s out getting himself a shag.

And, worse of all, he brings Gaz along.

Gaz doesn’t have the same issue, unlike Johnny, he can actually contain himself. Maybe that makes Gaz a bit bad too, because he knows that Soap has a tendency to chase like they owe him money... And he still enables him. He still goes out with his mate and they both get wasted and laid without a care.

Maybe Gaz doesn’t think it’s his place to intervene, or maybe he just doesn’t care enough to.

Camaraderie and all.

That’s how they ended up in a club downtown, flashing lights all around them, loud reggaeton playing through the speakers, men and women around them with more skin on display than they had covered rubbing their bodies, sipping drinks, spilling them over each other… Oh, the wonders of a Colombian night club.

They saw you before you saw them. Kyle tapping at Johnny’s shoulder as their eyes perused the space individually, then, he drew the Scot’s eyes to you, standing with your friends, laughing, drinking, softly swaying to the music.

Soft curves in a copper-colored dress that left little to the imagination, clinging tight to a round ass and a thick belly, the hem constantly pulled down by your hands, as it insisted on rolling up, up, up, exposing more of your smooth thighs than you wanted it to.

It didn’t stop you from still rolling your hips to the music, however, turning the fixing of your dress a near impossible task, repetitive, useless, and maddening, Sisyphus-and-his-stone.

Turning to each other, the two sergeants hands shot to the middle of their bodies, a quick rock-paper-scissors ensuing… which Johnny won.

And that’s how you ended up turning around to the sight of a foreigner with the broadest shoulders, thickest arms and pecs, and bluest eyes you’ve ever seen… As well as a mohawk, something you didn’t often see on… anyone, really.

He was a soldier, you could tell, even out of uniform. Not your first time seeing one, this being a city with a military base attached, and certainly not your last time being approached by one.

Oh, how soldiers seem to love fat women. You’ve experienced your fair few, many of them assuming your weight would equal desperation for love and affection, which would result in you accepting a rushed wedding for the sole purpose of getting him out of the barracks.

But you’re not desperate. Other than for a good lay, maybe.

“Erm… Hola.” The soldier in front of you says, blue eyes locked on your face for a surprisingly respectful amount of time considering the sinful cleavage that this dress and your bra give you.

His Spanish has the thickest accent you’ve ever heard, meaning he’s not American… But his pronunciation is off, so he’s clearly an English speaker. Though he’s not English either, you can tell.

“I speak English. Hi.” You told him, watching as he let out a little sigh of relief. Then, the corner of his mouth popped up in a dirty little smirk.

“Well, tha’ makes it easier. Hi.” He replied. “I saw ye from over there… Was wonderin’ if I can buy ye a drink?” He offered. Only then did he allow his blue eyes to slither down, down, down, trailing every inch of your exposed skin down to the black ankle booties you’re wearing, thick, square heels to prevent your hamstrings from feeling the pain of stilettos the next morning.

“Why?” You decided to ask him with a cocked brow, forcing his eyes to shoot upward to meet your face again, locking onto yours with a surprised expression.

“Why, what, pretty thing?” He replied, his own brows, thick, straight, rising up to meet his hairline. He’s confused, his eyes blinking a bit. His intentions had been clear as day. Obvious enough for you to pick up on, but you’re playing dumb, or maybe hard to get.

“Why do you wanna buy me a drink?” You asked him as you dipped your head to the side, your eyes slowly trailing over every inch of his handsome face. Those blue eyes of his are locked on you, pupils slightly dilated, hands hanging off his hips, fingers looped onto the belt loops of his jeans.

“Because you’re proper beautiful.” He replied. Your cocked brow and unimpressed glances up and down, cause him to continue. “And I’d love to take you home, find out what you’ve got on under that dress, and make sure your neighbors hate you from today onward.”

His words are crude, his voice loud and crass, disregarding the public space you’re in, the fact that there are others around, not just your friends, but complete strangers too. Maybe he’s hoping they won’t understand English. But they do. Hell, your girlfriends look at you and exchange coy looks with you, before them, and you, break into a fit of giggles.

He looks at them, noticing they caught what he said, even through the loud music, but then looks at you again. “So? What do you say?” His brogue is getting easier and easier to listen to with every word he says.

Rolling your head to the side, your squint your eyes at him and then shrug. “Do you have to buy me a drink for that?” You challenge him, your eyes snapping back and forth between his own, almost taunting him with your inquiry.

“Not if you don’t want to.” He tells you, eyes lit ablaze and a smirk on his lips.

So, you simply grab him by the arm, bid farewell to your friends, with a wave, and grab your clutch from the table, before dragging him out of the club.

Johnny was expecting a flat, a home, maybe even a university dorm room considering your age. What a surprise it came to him to find you taking him up to a hotel. Not that he’d complain when he noticed the large king-sized bed and the large view, providing a beautiful view of the illuminated city of Cartagena.

His hands were on your broad hips before you even got to closing the door, his mouth clashing onto yours as he pushed you against the wall by the door, calloused hands already sliding over the slinky fabric of your silky dress, tugging it up, so they could slip underneath.

His tongue pushed into your mouth, wet and drooling, saliva traded between your mouths as his strong fingers caught hold of a greedy handful of your ass, digging into the supple flesh and groaning in delight at just the feeling of you at his fingertips.

Your own hands already slid up and around his torso, feeling him up through the fabric of his t-shirt, before sliding down to pull the navy blue fabric out of its tuck into his jeans, rolling it up to expose a strong, bulky body covered in a generous amount of body hair.

Your lips broke apart for a moment, only long enough for you to take off his shirt, tossing it onto an armchair in the corner, and for him to unzip the side-zipper of your dress, taking it off you too.

Then, he grabbed you around the thighs, causing you to shriek, as he bounded for the bed, dropping you so hard onto it you almost swore you’d bounce off. Still wearing his jeans, he slotted himself between your parted thighs, his body bending over yours.

His stubble scratched your neck as he kissed you all over, licking stripes of your skin as his hands pulled off your boots, unfastened your bra… They were surprisingly nimble for such a hulking man. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Johnny cooed as he let his eyes run down your body.

He dragged his mouth down from your neck, across you clavicle, over one of your breasts, and caught your nipple between his teeth, beginning to suck on it, noticing how you hissed a bit, leaning back on your elbows as he did so.

One of his hands caught your other breast, grabbing and carefully kneading it between his fingers, as his eyes shot up to your face, blue irises beneath a pair of dark eyelashes, fluttering slowly as his pupils blew out from how horny he was. His other hand found your black panties and pulled them aside, (more so ripped them with how aggressive he pulled on them), the rough and calloused pads of his fingers catching your lips immediately and beginning to slide up and down, running over your slit.

The moment his cracked fingertips grazed your clit, you whined, your legs spreading apart even more, your body jumping a bit. “Fuck…” You grumbled under your breath, your eyes locked on his face and the way he eagerly played with your nipple.

“Relax.” Johnny told you once he let go of your nipple. Then, he rolled his tongue around in his mouth, collecting some saliva, before letting it drip onto your slit, his fingers catching it and spreading it quickly as he resumed playing with your clit, hand craning in order to push a finger inside.

“Oh fuck…” You moaned softly, hips bucking up against his hand, following his ministrations as he pushed a second finger inside of you and hooked them up to graze your g-spot, pumping them in and out, the rugged feel of his cracked fingertips drawing a surprisingly pleasant sensation of pleasure from the depths of your soul.

His other hand moved away from your breasts in order to undo his belt, leaving it to hang around his waist as he also undid his jeans, sliding them and his boxer briefs down one-handed, in order to allow his cock to spring free.

Your eyes lock onto it as he continues fingering you, a bit sloppy and rough, his palm pressed to your clit and his fingers constantly drawing a ‘come hither’ motion inside your wet walls.

His cock is stubby, shorter than some of the men you’ve been with, but so thick you can’t help but wonder just how he’ll make it fit inside of you, and how straining the stretch of it will be. It’s heavy too, uncut, hanging down even while already full-mast, too heavy to spring back against his belly button. His balls are heavy too, full, round and strained as he continues to play with you, watching your reactions to his touch.

“You like what you see, huh?” He asks you, noticing the way your eyes don’t slip far from his cock before returning to it, watching it lay against one of your smooth thighs, the ruddy color and constant twitching only bringing more attention it as it rubs against your skin, dripping pre-cum over your stretch marks.

“Mhm…” You reply softly as your hand reaches down to tug at it, carefully wrapping around it and drawing it up and down over his length, only letting go to cup his taut balls and fondle them a few times.

“Tha’s it…” He murmurs and hisses under his breath as he looks you right in the eyes. “Wanna be good f’r me?” He coos at you, and you nod in reply as you bite your lip. “How about you get on your knees and let me see how you suck me off, hm?”

Nodding, you untangle yourself from around him, his fingers slipping out of you, as you took your spot on the floor, the soldier having been caring enough to toss a pillow from the bed onto the floor to cushion your knees.

He sits on the edge of the bed, strong, muscular thighs spread open, as you sunk your mouth onto him, without so much as a second’s worth of hesitation. The stretch as you tried to swallow as much of him as you can tugged at the corners of your mouth, making them feel a bit sore, your jaw already protesting at the size of him. But that doesn’t stop you.

You start lapping at the underside of his cock eagerly, wetting him as much as possible to make sure you could continue taking him down your throat. The sounds he was making were sinful, low groans and grunts, hissing through his teeth, one hand carefully fisting the bed covers.

He carefully gathered your hair away from your face, gripping it one handed. “Tha’s it… Greedy thign you are, wanna take all of my fat cock in your mouth, hm?” He goaded a bit as he looked down at you between his legs.

Any other time, any other place, any other man, you’d already be pulling off him, getting dressed, telling him to fuck off… But something in this soldier’s voice, in his accent, the growl behind his voice, the spark in his eyes…

Maybe you are just desperate for a good lay with the thickest cock you’ve ever seen… But you don’t complain. You simply nod at him and bobbed your head even more enthusiastically, lips struggling to glide up and down his length, spread open sinfully to accommodate his size.

“Tha’s a good girl…” He praises, his free hand coming to grip you at the back of your neck, tugging you slowly, forward, to make you swallow more of him down into your throat, making you gag and sputter on his length, sloppily drooling around the size of him, saliva drooling down your chin and onto the carpeted floor of your hotel room.

“Pretty fucking thing… Gonna make that make-up run, hm?” He offers as he pulled you off and back onto his cock, moving your head for you. “Show some attention to that pretty pussy of yours, go on.” He demands, causing you to nod.

One of your hands found your wet slit between your legs, sliding two fingers inside, which felt like not nearly enough after having had his own, and considering the fat cock that would soon replace them, but you’d make do.

“Both hands, don’t be coy now.” He added. Your eyes widen, already anticipating the loss of balance that’d come from the lack of support from your free hand holding you up on the bed. But you do as you’re told, trying your best to keep a perch on your knees as your other hand starts slowly padding at your clit, rolling circles with it.

When you inevitably lose balance, as you knew you would, the soldier simply pulls you forward against him, making you bury your nose against his pelvis, swallowing his cock in its entiry, causing you to choke and gag, trying to catch a breath through your nose. He, in turn, lets out a loud groan of delight, eyes rolling back, as he feels the warm wetness of your throat.

“Keep your hands where they are.” He demands of you, preventing you from trying to pull away and find balance again with your hands on the bed or the floor or his thighs. You can barely do much more than nod against his hip.

He hooks a leg over your shoulder, pinning you close to him, while his hips begin to rock into your mouth, blindly and sloppily, making you gag more and more, more saliva slipping down from your parted lips, making a mess of him and yourself. “Tha’s it… yeah… just what I fuckin’ needed… Such a good girl f’r me…” He grunts as his hand swipes your hair out of your face as it slips from his grip.

“You like this?” He asks you as he abuses your mouth and your throat, while you sputter and try to fruitlessly breathe between each thrust of his into your throat. Nodding pathetically, mouth to full to speak, you whimper against him, making him shiver and shudder. “Of course you do… greedy fuckin’ mouth…”

He only pulls you off him after another couple of minutes, which felt like an eternity, allowing you to catch your breath only for long enough for him to pull you onto the bed, bending you over at the hips, presenting your round ass to him.

“Mmmmm, look at you…” He grunts out as he ruts his cock between your ass cheeks while tugging your head back at the scalp, causing your back to arch ever so slightly, your tits still pressed against the bed covers. “Round fuckin’ arse… Gonna love see it jiggle f’r me…”

He lets go of you again for a moment only to paw at your ass cheeks with one hand, while the other blindly looks for his wallet in his jeans. “Find me a condom, will ye?” He asks as he tosses the leather wallet next to your head, while he steps out of his jeans, underwear and boots, finally.

While looking for the little clip pocket containing them, you spot his military identification very briefly. It makes you realize you didn’t even ask him his name… Nor did he ask for yours. A green and white striped card titled ‘British Army’, with the name ‘John MacTavish’ and some extra info you don’t really pay attention to. John. That’s his name…

Once you pass him one of the silver wrappers, Johnny rips it open and puts on the slick condom quickly, barely waiting a moment before slipping himself inside of you, down to the hilt in one swift motion. You find yourself squirming against the bed covers with a whine, while he groans loudly behind you.

Although the stretch was still wildly bigger than any other man you’ve been with before, it didn’t feel as uncomfortable as you expected it too… probably because you were wetter and more eager than you expected.

He starts rutting inside of you immediately, huffing through clenched teeth as his big hands grip your ass cheeks and keep you spread open. His fingers dig deeply onto your extra fat, squeezing and kneading it, his blue eyes glued to the way your puffy lips part and stretch to swallow him whole. “Beautiful fuckin’ sight…”

“Fuck… Just like that… Don’t stop…” You beg him and whine loudly, fisting the white bed covers and digging your nails into them, your face resting on them sideways, sliding back and forth with each thrust of his.

You’re sure the hotel staff is going to have a field day washing the duvet, your make-up already staining the white fluffy fabric, sliding down with the sweat, and dragging across with each motion of your head.

You can barely speak or think, moaning in turn with him, each thrust of his causing you to croon and whimper in delight, his fat cock hitting you at every possible angle and rubbing every inch of your walls, the veins dragging against your g-spot, the condom barely there.

“Yeah… ye like tha’? Huh? Ye like it?” He coos at you, already slightly out of breath, hips barelling against your plump ass, making it jiggle as he bounces himself off them.

“Oh, fuck yes…!” You whine loudly. His hands slide up to find your hip, pushing you down against the mattress so he can shift more of his weight onto you, pumping at a downward angle, causing you to shriek desperately.

“Oh yeah…” Johnny grunts and starts huffing atop you, leaning all his weight atop of you as he pounds his hips against yours, his breath ragged against your shoulder and hair. “Fuck… Yer cunts feels so fuckin’ good…” He murmurs in your ear, his thick accent becoming.

“Oh, God…” You whimper, shuddering beneath him, feeling the familiar knot tightening in your stomach, each of his strong thrusts rattling every fiber of your being. “John…”

“Oh… tha’s it… Moan my name…” He orders as one of his hands suddenly shoots up and grips you by the back of the neck. “Moan my name…” He insists as he throws his hips down onto yours.

“John!” You call out, doing as you’re told, panting for air as he pushes your face harder into the mattress, slowing his thrusts down and bottoming out inside you each time at a slower pace.

Good thing he did too… Because the knot in your stomach only tightens more and more and more, and then snaps, making you cry out loudly with a choked moan that gets half-caught in your throat as your walls suddenly clamp down around him, tightening the grip on his fat shaft.

“Oh fuck…” Johnny grunts and picks up the pace again, grasp your hip as hard as his hands can, a bruising grip that’ll definitely leave a mark, as he pounds into your weeping cunt again and again and again…

He finally comes, losing his balance and landing on his elbows and forearms on either side of your body, his chest against your back, out of breath, as much as you, even though you feel like you barely did anything other than take him.

“Fuck… I needed that…” He grumbles under his breath as he speaks against your shoulder blade, before leaning up and biting at your earlobe. “That feel good f’r ye?” He whispers in your ear, an earnest question, receiving a little nod from you. “Good…”

Slowly, he pulled himself up, slipping his softening cock from you and rolling the condom off. “So… how long are ye and yer friends stayin’ here?” He asks you nonchalantly while tying off the condom.

“Are you trying to make small talk…?” You ask him, surprised that you can even find a voice or string together a coherent sentence in the aftermath of that. You try your best to drag yourself up and over onto the bed, and once you succeed, you look at him languidly.

“No. I have a reason to ask.” He assures you as he tosses the condom into the paper bin under the desk in the corner, before shuffling back over to you on the bed, lying lazily next to you, an arm behind his head, the other on his stomach.

“Four more days.” You tell him, and he nods at the reveal of information. You roll your head to the side to look at him, both of your bodies sweaty and sticky, your make-up undoubtedly a mess, not that he shows it in the way he looks at you… And even if he did, he’d likely only show pride at making you look like that.

“Well… I’m comin’ to pay ye a visit every night until then.” He tells you, before wrapping his free arm around you, pulling you close. “I plan on gettin’ that tight cunny wrapped around my cock fer as long as I can.”

yes, this is a repost of the original "Temporary Fix." but without the cheating :)

#ikea writes 💚#cod x reader #cod fanfic #masterlist #call of duty #cod fandom #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap cod #cod smut #smut #johnny mactavish smut #johnny mactavish is a mutt

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deadsnothere · 9 months

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Gunslinger Girl!

Synopsis - After getting a call from Garp, Alias made her way to the Baratie for a nice bite to eat and a long needed reunion.

Part 2

WARNINGS!! - READER HAS A NAME!!

Request - no, not taking them sorry.

Word count - 2.8k

Speak Ali! - Both parts together make 5,340 words, this Fic has literally taken up my brain.

Monkey D. Luffy.

Garp was a cheeky bastard.

I, Alias Foreman, Swore to be on Monkey D. Luffy's pirate crew when we both turned sixteen and fled to the sea together. I had a dream of becoming one of the most versatile people known to man. I want to learn as much as I can, to cook, to clean, to navigate boats and ships, anything you can teach me I will try my hardest to understand and learn. Now I'm not saying that I want to be the best at everything, there will always be people better. But I want to at least understand the basics of as much as possible. But for all of my life I've been known as a Gunslinger.

I'm ‘The Cheshire Cat’. Cool name with a stupid job. I hate being a Warlord of the Sea, it's the stupidest job on this side of the east blue, and they wouldn't even give me a proper crew. Just a few bumbling idiots who don't know what being a pirate really means.

Luffy always understood what being a pirate meant. I remember watching Garp train him day in and day out. Parts of me understand why Garp was so hard on him, I mean people say he takes after Gold Roger. Imagine your grandson taking after someone you helped execute. I don't think I'd be fond of it either. I’ve never thought Garp nor Luffy were wrong for what they want but, I think one knows what he's doing and the other doesn't.

It's always quite bothersome when halfway through my delicious dinner, I get interrupted by a soggy mean fishman running in here and trying to take my table for dinner. If he had waited a few minutes I would've gladly given it up, I just wanted to finish my meal. But the inpatient idiot just had to have it now.

“I'm afraid there are no more tables.” Arlong and two of his crew members were walking down the stairs of the Baratie. They’re bodies are still wet and leaving water as they walk, which is just plain disrespectful. “I see a bunch of tables.” I couldn't help but roll my eyes, to think I would have a peaceful dinner, just hopeful dreaming. People started to whisper and get up from their tables but I stayed in my seat, intending to finish the nice meal served to me. Plus it's not as if they got far, Arlong was yelling at them as soon as he got to the middle of the staircase. “Sit down!” he yelled in his degrading, chalkboard scratching voice. I continued to cut my steak in pieces to eat, they over cooked it a bit but a fine job was done anyways. Seasoned almost perfectly. A little too much oregano, but I'm just too picky with my food. Arlong went around as if he owned the place. “No one leaves.”

He looked at me with malice in his smile. “Except you.” His webbed hand went to grab the collar of my shirt but I stopped it with my own, barely even looking back. “I only have a bite or two left, I'll give it up when I'm done.” I took another drink from my wine and let go of his hand, continuing on with my meal. I could tell it pissed him off from the way he growled close to my ear. A stupid amount of spit landing on my dinner plate and shoulder. I shivered in disgust and stood up from my table. “You know what- take it.” I grabbed my plate and wine and stood up, leaving the small round table for the fishmen to sit at. I felt bad not eating the steak so I got a to-go box from the reservations desk and put it in there to give to someone later. Deciding that maybe i'll get a nice drink from the bar instead.

I was a wine kind of gal so I got a nice glass of Merlot, it was tasty. Had lots of flavor, some of which I enjoyed and some I didn't. I was enjoying the peace. I always knew it wouldn't last long but god was i sad when it was over. “Which one of you is Arlong?” Oh shit. I knew his voice anywhere, the voice I was sent for by his grandfather, the voice of a new age. I got a refill on my wine, and bought the whole bottle while I was at it, due to the lingering feeling that this wasn't going to look pretty.

When I got back into the restaurant I decided to just rest a little under the staircase, hidden by the shadows hopefully. Seeing Luffy again made me nervous. Something about it..something about how he’d be even a little bit different. When I assessed the situation in front of me it confused me a bit. I could hear that Arlong was yelling from the bar but he's an idiot so I tuned it out and tried to enjoy the bit of ‘quiet’ I had. Arlong has an older gentleman by his shirt collar, while Luffy was halfway down the main staircase. He had two men behind him, one named Usopp the other Sanji. I heard about them both, one from a customer here and the other, from a bartender. “So this is the pirate I've heard so much about.” Arlong was starting to circle around some of the tables, pacing I guess. “You know, I was expecting someone… bigger.”

Sounds like my cue. I came out of the shady area setting the wine glass and bottle on the table and grabbing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from a pocket in my shorts, picking the lucky one and placing it in my mouth delicately. “Tell me about it..I've had someone in my ear all day. ‘Find that dumbass.’ I have a headache at this point.” I laughed and leant on the chair. Luffy looks away from Arlong for a millisecond, to look at me but I don't think it registered in his brain. He couldn't have forgotten me. Luffy spoke, in his normal, nonchalant, Luffy way. “So was I.” I was puffing from my cigarette as I laughed. The snicker making smoke pour out of my nose. That got Luffy's attention. His head snapped to look at me, his eyes didn’t leave me, it looked like he was inspecting every part of my body. Probably looking for the one sign it was me. The small skull shaped scar just above my left knee. I wore shorts today just so he would see it.

His eyes were as wide as the plates they were using to serve that delicious soup I had for an appetizer. “ALIAS?!-” internally I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Externally, all I could do was smile. Luffy had a bright smile on his cheeks and I couldn't help but smile back. It was a smile I yearned for, for so long. I knew with even a bit of it, I was going to be addicted again.

I could see how excited luffy was that I was here (which made me VERY happy), but Arlong being himself did not like that attention wasn't on him for those few seconds so he cleared his throat obnoxiously. “Do you know who I am, boy?” Luffy's attention went to him but came right back when I spoke up. “Arlong the Saw.” There was a moment of silence, I taped the ash away from my cigarette into an empty glass off the table of people in front of me, and took another drag from it. “And just who are you-” - “I’m The Cheshire Cat.” I undid two of the buttons on my button up shirt with one hand, letting my collar fall back to show off the cat like scratches that laid on my collar bone (If those cats were lions that scratched almost all the way down my torso and arm). I did a stupid little bow. A few people reacted but I enjoyed the way Luffy looked so wowed. Arlongs eyes widened but they just went right back to a dumb smug smile. “You, Arlong, go for 20 million berrys.” I took another drag, exhaling calmly. “Which is impressive for the east blue but..Not so much other places.” He laughed from his chest, his friends going along with it. “What does the sell out have to say about it?” I sighed softly.

A part of me wished I was a sell out, instead of a kidnapped child forced to do the government's dirty work. The other part knew I would never do that, knew I would never betray my own crew like that. “Oh nothing honestly, I don't care about you.” I looked over to Luffy who still had a smile on his face. When we made eye contact he started to beam. I've only visited him once since I became a warlord, it makes me happy to see him so full of joy just from a moment of eye contact with me. “I'm here for him.” Luffy's hands started to shake, it was something small he always did around me. Blurted it out one day, said when I was excited sometimes I gave him a look, a glint in my eye that made him so happy his entire body shook. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever said to me. Arlong growled once again, leaving spit in someone's food. Those poor people.

He was circling the tables to get to me, circling around me slowly as if I was fish bait he was waiting to snap on. “Well I was here first.” I thought about correcting him, telling him that I was in fact here first. But Luffy interrupted the thought anyway. “How’d you find me anyway?” Luffy sounded completely confident in himself, Arlong just let out another horrid chuckle and made his way back to where he originally stood. “Old friend helped me track you down.” At first Luffy looked over to me, but I was drinking a sip of wine, just listening to what was happening in front of me. Arlong clicked his tongue and one of the other fish men grabbed the clown pirate's head out of a bag. “Heya, Straw hat. Did you miss me?” Luffy looked extremely confused, Sanji looked exhausted and Usopp looked terrified. “Burpy?” The name he called him almost made me spit out my wine from laughter (Which made Luffy happy, I could tell because he glanced at me. Even just for a second.) “What are you doing here?”

The fact that there was only a clown head confused and disturbed me, but I looked past it. “Believe me, it wasn't my first choice either.” He looked a bit nervous as he spoke. “But these fine fishy folk persuaded me to point them in the right direction, which ain't easy when you don't have any hands!” The joke made me raise my eyebrows and laugh a bit, it was funny i'll give him that. But Luffy still looked confused. “How’d you even know where to find me?” Suddenly the clown had the most serious expression I've ever seen him in. “I told you, I've got eyes and ears everywhere.” I noticed an ear start to climb out of the red band of Luffys hat. It was quite strange. The ear went back to the clown and popped right back in place, laughing. Luffy took the hat off his head inspecting it, while the two men behind him shared a look. “Stereo!” Luffy looked shocked. “You were listening all along? You heard everything?” The clown was quite happy. “Everything! and that old quick. 'Cause you shi-diots have no idea what you're doing.” The mashup word made me giggle a bit, it sounded so stupid, but it was kinda funny. (But luffy frowned a bit when he saw I laughed so i stopped as quick as i started).

The clown's head jumped towards the fishman with the huge lips. “Hey lips? How about a scratch behind the old ear, huh?” That made me roll my eyes, he was stupid enough to ask his captors that? The fishmen put him back in the bag. Buggy complaining about how sandy and wet it was.

“Listen here. I want my map.” It was so stupid. Watching them fight over the map to the entrance to the grand line, I understand why Luffy wanted it, but Arlong has a giant crew of thieves who could easily take it from another marine base. “Along with half of whatever you plunder as tribute.” Tribute? for getting a map, does he want tribute for his own existence now? “And if you bow down to me, I might even let you serve in my kingdom.” Stupid men. All of them were the same. Well not all, but most were extremely similar. “I don't bow down to any man.” Luffy stood tall, his head held up high as usual. That's my boy. “I'm no man.” Luffy continued. “Or fish.” That made Arlong growl and made me laugh. “And you’re no king.” There was a certain feeling in the air, the aggression that at any moment, one or the other would attack. Everyone was on high alert, my wine made that hard. It was just so delicate. Hard to enjoy in this environment but perfect in others.

“I will be, when I get my grand line map.” Luffy just smiled, which was a little bit attractive. “Then” He placed his hat back on his head. “You’re gonna have to fight me for it.” I take the attractive comment back, he's stupid. “Then let the fighting begin.” A bullet bounced off the fishmans skin. My hands almost drew closer to my own guns but instead I decided to pour another glass of wine. The old man that cooked my food was standing with a gun in his hand, the trigger pulled in his fingers clutches.

The thing about fishmen (I had learned the hard way) is that regular bullets don't affect them. I have very special bullets, made from some weird unmeltable ice, something about them coming from a town inside the grand line called drum town, from the deepest parts of frozen lakes. They're so sharp they even pierce fishman skin but don't go as deep as I would like.

Arlong turned to the old man, one of his crew members kicking him away and down before punching him into a pillar. Sanji called out his name and ran over, jumping on the table and kicking the fishman in the face. Which just pissed him off more. He got a few good kicks to the face and arms, even the legs but Luffy distracted him. “Really good fighter.” By the time he went to do a quite nice spinning kick to the face again, he caught his foot in his arm. I reached for both guns in my holsters, Checking that they had the correct bullets and shot multiple rounds from Alice, all of them making a trail up his arm and letting Sanji get away. The fishman looked back at me, anger and confusion in his eyes. “These bullets are made of ice, so sharp they even pierce fishman skin. I got them specially made.” There was a delicate smile on my lips, blowing the smoke out of my mouth and away from my guns. Normally i wouldn't touch these but i had a feeling about bringing them today, i'm glad i did. they may be expensive but Luffy was worth it anyways.

Everything was happening so quickly, Luffy's gum gum pistol, Arlong grabbing and pulling him closer. “Uh-” I could tell there was panic in his voice, but I couldn't tell if helping would really be helping at all. He was thrown at a pillar, landing on the floor with a thud. “Get up!” Arlong yelled, if i was him i would've stayed on the floor in spite, but he got up regardless. He kept stretching his arms three punches, one to each shoulder and one to the face. “Not bad for a human.”

I lifted my pistol to shoot Arlong but luffy put his hand up, his middle and ring finger were intertwined and the other three fingers touched. That was our sign when we were kids to stay out of it. It was our secret signal, not even Ace or Sabo or Dadan knew what it meant. I lowered my pistol, spinning it and putting it back in its holster. I grabbed the wine bottle taking a nice big gulp. Glad i’d gotten the entire bottle because this in fact, was not going to be pretty.

Part 2!!

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pink-apollo · 2 years

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Task force with S/O that have big breast please?

AHHHH. I saw this and got sooo excited😭 As a gal that has double Ds it can be such a pain. Buttons busting open, shirts tight in certain areas, just a struggle ;-; but they make wonderful pillows!

Wasn’t sure who you wanted so I added my main 3. If you want price and gaz let me know ^^ Also I am so sorry if Simon is very ooc, I’m trying to go with his current self and exactly pin point it which I find to be a little difficult😅

——————————————————————————

Task force with large chested S/O Headcanons

🎀Soap is a cheeky guy, we all know this. Of course he loves you for you! Not just looks! But at times he can’t but to just…stare. He knows it can be rude and weird, but when they’re right there in his face he can’t help it

🎀You could be mid conversation, babbling away at something you were talking about and John would be sitting there eyeing you up, tuning out what you were saying only to be met with your chest in his face as you looked at the man red from getting caught

🎀He means well, honest! But will try every chance he gets to grab them or lay on your chest because of how comfortable it is. A “perfect pillow” as he would say

🎀Purposely buys shirts that are rather a bit too tight for you. Although you may think it doesn’t look good, soap on the other hand is taking mental pictures to remember how you fit into the shirt

🎀Loves to feel you pressed up against him. Yes for the contact because he does enjoy it! But to also feel all of you and be a little more intimate

🎀In general loves to hold them. His thumb gentle rubbing your nipples to piss you off or to tease depending on the mood. But for the most part holds them, massaging them as he leans on your back , leaving trails of kisses along your shoulder to neck

🎀Is basically a child in a candy store

Ghost

🍁Simon is…well let’s say more sneaky than soap is when it comes to taking peaks. No, he doesn’t do it often, but if you just so happen to wear a shirt that fits just right and shows a bit of cleavage? He can’t help himself but to look, especially if he’s taller than you

🍁Although he does enjoy them, he’s more so focused on your other needs. Like if your back hurts or in general breasts are achey to to your hormones. He doesn’t mind whatsoever focusing on making you feel better before anything else happens. Your comfort comes first

🍁Notices every little detail when you move. Purposely walks behind or in front of you so he doesn’t glance down to see you walking with your chest slightly bouncing. Steps? Won’t say anything, but are his weakness when it comes to you. Thank god for the mask

🍁If you ask him to hold them he will. Might be a little unsure of how exactly to please you, again when it comes to physical things, Simon needs a little bit of guidance! He just wants to do right and to be sure you’re okay. But oddly enough finds it to be a stress reliever for himself

🍁Is very gentle with them in the beginning. Gives kisses all over before nibbling and leaving marks all over your chest. Caressing them with his hands, ever so softly pinching them to hear you sweak

🌹When it comes to you? This man looses all train of thought. With every step you take towards him, he can’t help but to look down. You know it’s his weakness and sometimes use it to your advantage, but other times simply oblivious to the fact that he was staring

🌹Alejandro tries his best to a gentleman, but can’t help but to glide his hands over your chest when alone sitting on his lap, squeezing them from pent up sexual tension that you caused

🌹Of course he always asks for permission regardless of how long you’ve been together. He just needs to know what kind of mood your in before he does

🌹Certainly loves when you straddle him and just hold him or perhaps ride him. Not only an amazing sight, but just being close to you is one of his many favorite things

🌹Lays on your chest very often! Just so squishy and comfortable to lay on! Has fallen asleep quite a few times on your chest, with his hand up your shirt on your breast. Could lay like that forever if you allowed him to do so

#headcanons #mw2 #modern warfare2 #Simon ghost Riley x reader #John soap mactavish x reader #Alejandro Vargas x reader #Simon Riley headcanons #John soap mactavish headcanons #Alejandro Vargas headcanons #x reader #modern warfare

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isalisewrites · 4 days

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A Deep Dive into JKR's Terrible, Amateur Writing - Reflective Interlude

Hello and welcome to my ballsy series where I will prove to you, dear reader, that J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series and resident Twitter TERF, is actually a very, very poor writer.

And when I say ‘poor writer,’ I’m talking about her prose, her sentence structure, and her scenes in the Harry Potter series. I am not going to discuss anything about the HP world nor the overall plot of the books.

This is all about the nitty gritty in the craft of writing itself.

Part One Link.

Part Two Link.

However…

Hiya! *waves* I’m Isa, the author of this… Actually, I dunno what to call this series anymore. Anyway, thus far, you’ve heard a very satirical tone from me in the previous two posts, but that’s not my normal tone. I’m a rather laid back kind of gal with a side of sarcasm and deluge of emoji usage.

I have used quite a confident, even bombastically obnoxious tone in the effort to be entertaining and engaging with these posts. It was meant to be playful and sarcastic. It’s the internet, so I’m aware everyone’s attention is… kind of like a commodity, unfortunately. Look at TikTok or YouTube. How long does a 30s video hold your attention before you’re scrolling to the next? It depends for me, I’ll admit. People don’t have the attention span for long style posts such as these and that’s fair. Sometimes, I don’t either.

Thus, I used repeated ‘catch phases’ to maintain a rhythm and a thematic style through the series with a controversial title meant to hook a reader. I repeat the opening, even in this post. I repeat ‘Class is in session’ to show the beginning of the major section of the post.

However, in this interlude, I’ve toned it all down because I wanted to give you a window into my heart, my purpose, and my intent in this series. It is a reflective post that ends with writing motivation to you, my dear reader, as well as links to writerly resources.

I’ve had a lot to think about this week and I realized that many writers (and other creatives) have to battle against an enemy found within themselves. This enemy often torments many with cruel, destructive thoughts; they burrow their way into so many writers’ minds. It whispers: “Can you really do this? Are you really sure you’re any good? Aren’t you just fooling yourself? They’re going to find out you’re just a fraud. So… why bother?”

Whose voice is that?

Let’s talk about the destroyer of creation, Imposter Syndrome, why I refuse to let the bastard infect me anymore, and why my confident tone in previous posts has grated nerves.

Remember: take what resonates and leave what doesn’t.

(This means I write my posts with the honest acceptance and expectation that not everything will fit with your style, your vibes, or your personality. That’s okay.)

All right, let’s buckle up, my dear writing friends. Grab a snack. Hydrate. Let’s begin. And yes…

Class is in session on this little Tumblr post… should you wish to attend.

Having confidence or pride in one’s work seems to be taboo. Any brief moment in time where I tried to be proud about my writing or say, Hey, I’m a good writer, I was always told to be humble. “Don’t be prideful. Be humble.” It would often chip away at my self esteem. I could be a good writer, but I couldn’t allow myself to feel like a good writer.

But no more.

I have only given myself permission to be confident about my writing within the past month. This is why I started this series in the first place. I wanted to share knowledge and in an entertaining way. I make a bold claim that I’m a better writer than JKR; I analyze her writing to both improve my own understanding and to help others as well.

However, this does not mean I’ve ever been under the delusion I’m perfect. Absolutely not. God, that’s so fucking laughable! I am not perfect. I am not a perfect writer. I definitely don’t know everything. Someone once corrected me, informing me that snakes are venomous, not poisonous. Bless them, wasn’t aware of that. Immediately fixed that. One of the recent reblogs said geodes do not contain emeralds. God bless, I didn’t know that, though in the case of how it was used in TBG, I won’t be changing it since it’s within a character thought.

Sorry, Tom. I guess you need to take a geology class, too.

Ugh, and I have so many godforsaken typos. My soul withers when I catch a typo after I’ve posted a chapter. I miss things all the time. I repeat things because ‘that’s my thing’ and I don’t always catch them in my edits. I forget things all the time. Thank GOD for Dede, someone who loved TBG so much she spent countless hours archiving data from it, where she caught a number of inconsistencies and alerted me to them. I still haven’t been able to fix them yet, but I’m so grateful to her. I’ve noted them all down. Harry’s height often is incorrectly implied to be taller than it should be because my brain isn’t wired for imagery. My brain forgets TBG Harry is a short king at 5’4” while TBG Tom is 6’2” and I need to go back to fix all of those.

I am not a perfect writer and I don’t claim to be.

My goals with this series are to study/learn for myself, teach/share knowledge with others, and learn some more from this experience. I love this kind of analysis. But there’s difference between my analysis of JKR’s writing and a number of those who have retaliated with an analysis of my writing.

Instead of looking at my imperfections with the desire to learn from them, they were illuminated in the attempt to ‘take me down a notch.’ To those who put in the effort to make counterpoints, I do thank you for your contribution to this series. It is appreciated, even when given impolitely and with the intent to ‘put me in my place.’

Despite all of my errors and imperfections, I still stand by my statement: I am a better writer than J.K. Rowling.

Do you know who else is a better writer than her? I could list thousands of them. They’re fanfiction writers. They’re indie authors. They’re other traditional published authors. They are so many other writers that, yes, I do think are stronger writers than JKR.

And you’re a better writer, too, so long as you wish it.

I sincerely want you to believe that.

Why? Because it’s clear within the Harry Potter series that JKR did not make attempts to grow as a writer. She just wrote. Perhaps she was under deadlines, but the lack of editing is pretty apparent to me. When you write a lot, you will inevitably get more skilled over time, but you have to actively be seeking improvement to see drastic change in your own skill. It is this lack of drive that I see within her work. She’s not making attempts to push the boundaries of her abilities and skills with each new book.

I’m not at the end of my journey of learning. I never will be. I love expanding my skills. I’m even learning during the process of writing these posts, too. I’m seeing more weaknesses in my own work and I’m now thinking on ways to strengthen my writing even further.

That’s the point of this series.

In the end, it’s not really about me. No, really, it’s not about me. I truly think it’s about the jealousy of seeing another writer be confident in their work. You see, I’m not supposed to be confident; I’m not supposed to act like I can help and teach others to write. How dare I. Posting anything about my work is an act of attention seeking. I’m supposed to be ‘humble.’ I’m supposed to be silent. I’m supposed to wave a shy, dismissive hand at compliments.

Why?

Why is being proud of one’s work and loving one’s own work such a controversial idea?

Imposter Syndrome often cripples creators. There’s already so much self doubt and anxiety in the world, but Imposter Syndrome can really wreck with a creator’s mind. It’s a poison. It stops you from creating what you love most. When you believe you aren’t good enough, then it becomes harder to try. Your belief becomes truth to you, whether or not it was true in reality in the first place. Perhaps, you sink into depression. You become anxious about sharing anything, for fear anyone might say even the slightest negative comment. The heart becomes fragile and brittle, and the muscle which builds skill atrophies over time. You see your work through a lens of self hate. You can only see flaws.

“I will never be good enough.”

When you’re in this state of mind, it’s hard to see the truth about your work.

But let me promise you something: your writing is far more beautiful than you realize.

In spirit, all creative writing is perfect to me with all of its typos and mistakes (yes, even all of the Harry Potter books!), but no single work is objectively perfect. There will always be room to improve your creation because you’re constantly growing. It’s why so many aspiring novelists fall into an endless cycle of editing their first few chapters. The more they write, the more they improve; thus, when they go back to their earlier chapters, they get stuck trying to update those chapters instead of pushing forward to the finish line.

Your work is valuable, no matter what. It’s beautiful. You’re allowed to love your work. You’re allowed to see the good in it and you’re allowed to have confidence in yourself. You’re allowed to say to yourself and to others, I’m a damn good writer.

You deserve to have love, for yourself and for your art.

I have often sincerely complimented other writers and, many times, after they respond with their thanks, it becomes clear to me they’re not confident in their work, yet they have still bravely shared it with us.

I’m so proud of them. Thank you for your bravery.

My heart breaks for them, too. They’re such good writers—such damn good writers. And I wish they knew and believed this.

I will always do everything in my power to encourage others.

How do you feel about your writing? Do you like your writing? You should. You really should because it is good. You created it, after all. There will always be space to grow and refine your craft, of course, but you are a good writer now. You’re going to be a better writer tomorrow and the next day, so long as you desire this growth in yourself. There’s no destination, though. There’s no magic level you have to reach before you’re allowed to have some confidence in yourself and your abilities. The only trap to avoid is remaining stagnant. Writing is a skill. Writing is a craft. This means it gets better through study and practice.

You can achieve that.

I know it’s hard, though. There are so many naysayers in life. There are so many people waiting to attack and bring others down, both on the internet and in our own families. How many precious fanfics have been lost because a writer received horrible, hateful comments? How many writers have disappeared from the internet because of this cruelty? We have lost many in all fandoms. That is unacceptable to me.

Uplift others. Spread love, not hate.

You’re allowed to be proud about your work, imperfect as it may be. Please, I beg you, don’t let the negative voices of others—including your own!—drag you down and steal the joy of creating. I know it’s so very, very hard to stand strong against such voices. Words have power, but you have more. Resist the naysayers.

What you have to offer the world is precious. Please lift your head and acknowledge that what you create is good. It’s great. It’s amazing. It’s fucking fantastic. You’re not an imposter nor a fraud. No one can offer what you can to the world. No one can write the stories you have in your head the way you can. Your style is unique to you. You’re allowed to love it as it is now and you’re allowed to love it whatever form it takes in the future.

Imposter Syndrome is a thief; toss it into jail and throw away the key.

My writing is not perfect and it never will be, but I’m a better writer today than I was ten years ago. I’m a seeker of my own growth. I’m often reading books on writing and watching YouTube videos on writing. I absorb it all because writing is my truest love and passion. My style has evolved from reading endless amount of novels and fanfics. I devour both.

But I wasted a decade thinking I didn’t have what it takes.

And life is short. I can’t waste anymore time.

Don’t be like past Isa, please.

There’s a difference in refinement between an episodic fanfic posted over the course of years and a traditional novel published in whole, but I still stand by my work. I recognize my style will not be enjoyed by all those who read it. It’s okay if you don’t like my style. I’m eternally grateful for the many readers who do love my writing. I’m humbled and honored by the sheer volume of people who have commented, bookmarked, and have left kudos on my work. Thank you.

My style has evolved into what it is today due to a combination of two things.

I have ADHD. It’s why my style uses smaller paragraphs as a whole.

I have aphantasia. I lack a mind that can visualize pictures. I literally cannot see anything in my mind. When people say, “I can picture it in my mind,” that’s not me. I cannot at all. When there’s a lack of description in prose, it feels blank and empty to me. This is why I use vivid descriptions in the way I do because otherwise I feel nothing from my work.

It’s okay if this style doesn’t work for you. I love my style because it caters to what I need. I also love other styles that don’t use as much description; however, I can’t always follow what’s happening because of the wiring of my brain. I can get lost sometimes, but I still appreciate their style because I can’t effectively do what they can.

If you find no value in my style and what I offer in this series here, then that’s okay. I’m not offended. This series is for those who benefit from it. For you, there are so many other writers out there from whom you can learn and I’m more than happy to send you in the direction that benefits you the most.

Here’s a list of YouTubers you might find interesting.

ShaelinWrites has been working on many unpublished projects through the years and has lots of great discussion videos on writing.

Abbie Emmons is a self published author with solid writing advice in all of her videos.

Alexa Donne is a traditionally published author with great insider information into the traditional publishing world.

Ellen Brock is a professional editor. She knows her stuff.

I hesitantly suggest Jenna Moreci and her content on YouTube because I think she has some major weaknesses in her writing. Many others have seen this about her books. However, she is a successful indie author and her YouTube content has a lot of value.

Brandon Sanderson has an entire college course in a playlist on his channel. It’s a fabulous free resource if you vibe with his style of writing. Highly recommend.

Here’s a list of writing books I recommend.

Elements of Fiction Writing, a five book series. My TOP recommendation is Elements of Fiction Writing - Beginnings, Middles & Ends.

Sin and Syntax: How to Craft Wicked Good Prose

Let the Crazy Child Write!: Finding Your Creative Writing Voice

Novelist's Essential Guide to Crafting Scenes

All right then.

Thank you for sticking around. I hope you accept this post in the good faith it was given and was always given in the previous posts. Next post, I’ll be returning to my playful satirical tone. Hehe~!

Please do the world the greatest of favors and write. Create. Share your fanfiction. Become best selling authors, traditional or indie. I promise you’re far more capable and skilled than you realize.

Until next time.

Isa

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unabashednightmarepizza · 1 year

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𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑁𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑏𝑜𝑟

A/N: My ass couldn't wait to publish this work even though I wanted to wait a few days but the feedback was amazing... So HERE IS YOUR MEAL GALS!

Taglist: @lol-im-done @lu002 @keepingitlokiii

Series Masterlist

It had been a long day of studying and working for you, being able to return back home in the middle of the night, very later than you normally came, and there was nothing more you wanted than sleeping the rest of the night away. Getting to hear your teachers in college scold everyone and anything, while thinking of a way to reach your work place on time and planning what to cook for your sisters...

Life was hard, but yours was more like a death penalty.

Thankfully, the Adlers from the next house was kind enough to let you, more like make you, leave them in their care while you went to college and then work, helping in any way they can. You felt bad for the elder woman, thinking that you were being a liability when she hit your head hard, saying that your sisters alongside with her grandchildren lifted her energy up.

And now, even though you were tired and ready to explode on someone, you knew that your sisters needed their older sister more. “Hey, you said you didn’t understand something about your homeworks, right? Let me help you while we eat some junk food, okay?”

The happy squeals they let out made you coo after them sweetly, getting to the kitchen to prepare a hot drink and some chips and dried fruits. You were at ease knowing that what they were about to bring wouldn’t be so bad...

They were 11 year-olds in middle school, how bad could it be?

“You guys see this in school?! That was in my highschool!”

“Yeah, sis we told you! We complained the stupidity of the government but you said it couldn’t be that bad!” you grumbled under your breath, not really having something to say to that while erasing what you had written.

“Okay, smart ass, I was wrong! Now, here is an easy way to solv-“

All three of you winced when an ear-piercing baby crying was heard from the next door house, you looking at the door with an agitated look. Breathing through your nose, you dropped the pen and gripped your hairs thightly, hoping that the voice would cut and the silence of the night would engulf the peaceful street...

But it was only for a brief second when a louder one reached the every house around.

“I think they’re having troubles with the baby...”

“Yeah, heard some of the ladies’ pitying eyes and talk of how they had to raise a newborn baby alone...” your sisters mumbled between each other, looking at the door worriedly and you raised a brow curiously at seeing a clear worry on their faces. For the most part, you were aware that you didn’t have the chance to meet with your neighbors except Miss Adlers and you swore you weren’t all that interested in whoever there was in the house next to yours but...

“What do you mean? Do you eavesdrop now?”

“No, we swear we don’t! But you know we’re tiny,”

“And we’re mostly thought to be stupid that we can’t understand adult talks... Which makes bringing tea easier.” They laughed in delight and high-fived, proud of themselves for outsmarting you while your eyes welled with slight tears.

When did they grow up so much?

“Okay, you little gossippers. Now tell me what you know too.”

“Ohhh~ Are you interested in the young dad next door?”

You flushed at her teasing smirk and pushed her away from your face to grab a jacket to see if there was anything you could help with the baby while listening to the cocky siblings you had. “Well, his name is Joel Miller, 20 year old male living with his brother who likes to get in jail. Married for a short amount of times but the mother left them, reason: unknown. He likes to play guitar, has the cow eyes and as the ladies call ‘is a sight for sore eyes’.”

You looked at her confused, and horrified, since they knew -possibly- everything about a human being that someone could know, while laying on the ground and posing, looking at their nails as if it was the strangest thing in the world. “Ho-How do you know all of these?!” you exclaimed angrily while getting the keys and walking up to the door, trying not to feel ashamed at learning such things about a man you didn’t even know up until just a few minutes ago.

“Don’t forget to tell Tommy that using a baby to lure women to himself is lame!”

“And we learnt them all because people in this street are noisy!” they waved you out while relaxing on the couch, and you shivered at the chill night breeze. These were the last things you heard before you threw yourself out, swearing to never let the others gossip with them in the same room. All the things they said was interesting, a man being left with a kid when it was usually the other way around nowadays. You were impressed that he was a hands-on father, trying his best while he probably didn’t know a thing about looking after a baby by the increasing wailing of the baby.

You let out an angry scowl at the irritating high-pitched cry, ready to just bang the door for ruining the silence you needed so badly after hours of working and that was what you were about to do before a thought crossed your mind, which made you frown to yourself in disappointment.

That was the same reaction you got when you were a young kid, taking care of your little siblings when your parents were off working, not caring much about their children.

You also felt helpless as they screamed their hearts out, trying and failing to understand what was wrong with them or what they needed. How you felt angry, irritated tears came to your eyes, how you felt ashamed at the many stares you got as if you were the one who was supposed to care for little babies as if you birthed them...

You wouldn’t make the same mistake.

Knocking on the door with a soft sigh, you heard a panicked shit coming from inside and came a black haired man who looked very much so miserable with sweat running down his forehead, He wasn’t able to look at you throughly because of the worry that they were irritating people and he imediately started spit apologies. “I’m sorry for causing so much discomfort, I swear we are-“

“Hey,hey,hey! It’s okay, I’m not here to complain like an old woman...” he sighed in relief and slumped over the door, your heart breaking for their obvious misery while you held the tired and exhausted man up by his shoulders when probably-no scratch that- the most handsome and cute guy you had ever seen in your goddamn life came in your view with a cute, yet wailing, baby in his arms.

“Tommy, I swear if it’s another woman when I’m dying over here-“ Joel’s cursing was cut in the middle when he saw a woman he usually saw coming and getting out of the house next door at ungodly hours. Many times, he wanted to meet you, and many times he failed in that.

Not because he was nervous, but his life was breaking apart with the responsibility of the fatherhood.

He loved his daughter, his precious Sarah, but right now he really felt useless while his baby was still crying in his embrace, face now red like a tomato and discomfort written all over her face. He felt a tear run down his cheek, overwhelmed by the cries and hastily wiped it so that you wouldn’t see…

And maybe it was because of the “mother senses” you got through years of taking care of your sisters but that little baby’s squishable face made you coo at her sweetly. And, like a miracle, she stopped crying for a second and rather sniffled when her eyes turned to you.

Leaving both men in shock.

“How the- Are you a baby whisperer or something?!” yelled Tommy in excitement, the loud voice causing Sarah to start crying again and ending up with you slapping his chest while Joel bounced the little girl, hoping it would bring comfort to her. Though it seemed that her uncle being hit in front of her was enough to make Sarah stop once again.

“Stop screaming, dumbass! Baby ears are sensitive!” you whisper yelled, Joel snorting amusedly at his brother’s misery when a voice he never liked- the voice of a woman who always thought he knew the best- reached the three of you, causing you to turn sharply and look around the corner of the still-open door with flaming eyes.

“Oh God, young people and them making babies at such young ages when they can barely take care of themselves... That’s why we can’t live in peace-“

“Maybe, the reason why you can’t bear the cries of a baby- when that’s the most natural thing- is because of your old fruitlets, you bonker!” you yelled over the door, angry at witnessing yet another “Karen” when the said woman got embrassed, a few other people looking out and having sympathetic eyes turned to you three, and got inside her house, probably cursing at you but you didn’t care.

They weren’t the ones trying to be best here.

It really was nothing, in your eyes. People always loved to judge a mother/father, always ready to act like they were born with the ways of taking care of a baby, and even going as far as humilating the parent by telling them they couldn’t take care of their own baby.

And you couldn’t stop them all maybe, but you wouldn’t let anyone pull that shit in your presence.

And as someone who wasn’t used to having the kindness of people, real kindness, Joel was left amazed at how quick you were to defend them and how you defended them as if they were your family.

Maybe, you weren’t that bad and even came here with worry obviously.

But seeing your doe eyes turning to his hazel, tired ones with the softest look given to him and then the baby in his embrace... He thought he could trust someone again.

“I know that as her dad, you would be the best one to know her but... By the looks of you two, she is giving you a hard time and everyone needs some help at one point... So, would you like me to help?”

And the answer to that innocent question was one that would change everything for everyone at that moment.

And little Sarah, without knowing, brought two people that would care for each other and her the most by choosing to be calm and cute in your presence.

“I wouldn’ wanna make you uncomfortable-“

“Nonsense, I think this little lady over here,” you brought a finger close to her tummy and slightly tickled her, causing her to erupt in giggles which made the man holding her look at you as if you were the center of his world while the girl took a hold of your hand to chew. “Had already chosen me to be here... I swear I’m not some dangerous woman, only one that wants to help.”

And when Joel let you inside with a relaxed sigh after hours of crying, Tommy saw that his brother smiled for the first time over a year.

“I swear you are a baby whisperer, how did you manage to calm her down and then manage to play with her?” you laughed at the astonished looks the two brothers were giving you, sitting on the ground with Sarah over your lap, rubbing her back to get the gas out of her while she laid against you like a sack of patato with a happy smile over her chubby face.

“No, I’m not. I’m just someone who had to take care of two babies.” They both grimaced softly, impressed that you took care of two when they were barely able to take care of one. Joel watched you slowly pat the soft curls on his daughter’s head with a serene look, as if that was what you were born to do. He looked at the happy smile on her lips, how thight she was holding onto you as if you’d disappear when she bit and cried bloody murder whenever a woman would come close to him and her. It was almost like she felt their bad aura, trying to protect her dad from them even when she was a tiny baby but the same gremlin-like kid was now a putty, sleeping on you like an angel.

He wondered what was different with you, that made you kind enough and brave enough to come and help two men in the middle of the night...

He wondered what it was that different with you from the woman he once called his wife, that made it so easy for you to stay for her.

He came back from his dreaming when Tommy sat next to you to watch you softly caress Sarah’s little back, noting how you did to ease her, chuckling when her cheeks and lips squished together on your shoulder while she started to sleep peacefully. “I think we’re good for the rest of the night...”

“Hmm, can’t believe a baby could be that sweet yet also scaring... She’s a sweetheart though.” Joel smiled at you kindly when your eyes found his and he got up to take the baby from you, your hands slowly finding her armpits to raise her off of your chest to not wake her...

Which failed when she started to whimper at the loss of warmth.

“Oh, someone chose her favourite person, it seems~” Tommy whistled at you two, making you flush under Joel’s intense look while your heart beated hard under your clothes at how Sarah was just so comfortable with you. Most of the times, it would be like this. Just a few minutes in their presence, and they would slither close to you.

I guess this is God’s way of telling me I should become a mother but...

After much working, and failing, you looked at Joel for help when he smiled to you and pointed to her crib across the bedroom, eyes softly looking at the image of you holding Sarah. “You can put her in her crib, if you wan’ it. It’s fine...”

You nodded at his words, getting up with the help of Tommy and going to the crib and lowering your upper body to lay the girl softly on her bed and giving her a plushie to hug. For a few seconds, you just stood there, absentmindedly caressing her cheeks while you watched her sleep. For some strange reasons, you couldn’t leave her. It felt strange, how she suddenly took a hold of your heart and you already loved her when she grabbed your finger.

If you only knew how important she would become to you.

While you were deep in your thoughts, Joel stood at the door when you didn’t come back after 5 minutes, worried that something happened but was pleasantly surprised at seeing you so soft with Sarah, leaning over with his hands crossed on his chest and watched with love-filled eyes at his daughter’s happiness. It had been a hard day for him, with both working and looking after his daughter. It had been a while that all three of them were that happy and peaceful and to think that it was all thanks to the magical touch of a woman next door...

He thought you would be a good mother one day, watching how you interacted with a baby that had nothing to do with you and how loving you were to your sisters even if they annoyed you.

It’s a family thing I guess, he thought sadly. Why couldn’t I get that? Haven’t I already given enough..?

“I'm sorry I made you leave your kids alone, you can go if you want...” he said after pulling himself together, with a shy look at you when he saw the moonlight light up your tired features. You were surprised at hearing his voice so suddenly, even if that was his house, and you realized that he had talked to you and waited for you to say something while smirking amused at your startled face.

“ Wait, wait... Ah, they’re not my kids. I know it seems like that, with those two being glued to my legs, and they could be considered I guess since I’ve been taking care of them my whole life but... They’re my sisters.” You explained, rambling hurriedly, watching the shock on his face at the revelation and you chuckled at the cute look he had before getting out of the room, checking Sarah if everything was fine with her one least time when he spoke hurriedly after you, trying to apologize while thinking he had offended you.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend-“ he held his neck awkwardly, not knowing how to act before a woman after a year of living isolated. Seeing him trully sorry, thinking you were offended, you gave a genuine smile to him and took a hold of his arm, rubbing it softly and Joel understood why Sarah became a jello under your embrace.

If that same feeling were to engulf him too, he would also slump against you.

“Calm down... Joel, right? It’s okay, it’s mostly the look I get whenever I explain it. I’m used to it by now and to be honest you were the most normal reaction I ever got.” He sighed in relief and looked at you as if there was something he wanted to say, and for the most part he did.

He really wanted to talk to you, have you a bit longer here so that he could experience the comfort and light you emitted.

“Can I get you anything? Coffee, maybe? For the help you have given us?” he mumbled anxiously, palms sweating tons when you stopped mid-action, jacket still in your hands and you gave a small smile to him. You really wanted to, it has been a long time since you relaxed after all. It wasn’t every day that you had a guy offering something, and though it wasn’t a date...

You wanted to consider some sort of that.

“I would like it very much, if that’s not a problem?” you dropped the jacket and sat down while he gave you a small smile before disappearing in the kitchen.

“Never, wait here and get comfy.” Joel immediately set off to impress you, the instinct to do so being foreign to him, It wasn’t like you were his girlfriend, or someone he dated or cared, this was the first time he saw you but it almost felt like he knew you for a long time.

As if you two spent your lives together. And though he didn’t ask for your favourite coffee, a gut feeling in him somehow told him to go with it and bring the coffee to you with shaky hands.

You who had been looking at the many pictures on the wall silently, with a soft smile. Upon seeing him and his shaky smile, you took the cup from him thankfully and your mouth went dry when your fingers touched each other, twitching to hold onto more. You thought he would maket he coffee as he wanted, not really knowing how you liked the hot drink since he didn’t ask you.

But accepting that drink was the best decision you have ever made. This, this masterpiece of a coffee was the best one you ever had. ”You are a God-sent, Joel. This is the best coffee I’ve ever drank!” he chuckled at your enthusiatic voice, butterflies erupting in him after a long time, making a flustered smile sit on his handsome face when he plopped down next to you, but still putting some space just in case.

“I’m glad, you seemed like you needed that.”

“Oh, yeah. Taking care of two rascals while studying and working is hard really.”

“You go to college? What do you study?” he straightened up slightly and leaned over, trully excited and curious of what you do. And though you normally wouldn’t do this, you trusted him and his stupid, flustered smile.

“Psychology, and though it’s what I always wanted to do... It’s a pain in my ass.” You responded with an equally happy smile, Joel returning it enthusiasticly, wanting to learn more about what you learn since he never got to go college.

And though you were tired before coming here, both he and Sarah had that strange way to make you energetic and alive that you two now standing before each other whole you explained one of the theories you learnt today. And maybe, Joel didn’t understand a thing but seeing you so happy to talk to him out of everyone made him realize that he’s also a 20 year old just like you.

And that Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs was an interesting one.

And it was also interesting to you... which made you trip over a toy mid-explaining, ready to humilate yourself in front a guy...

Good thing, it didn’t happen... Bad thing? You were nose to nose with a guy you had just met with blown eyes.

Joel reacted fast, knowing how much those toys hurted, and leaped up to hold your waist to stop you from falling that essentially ended with you two nose to nose, his arms holding onto your waist thight while your hand bunched the shirt he wore, the scene looking as if it was out of a romance movie.

You both blushed, hollow breaths leaving your mouths harshly and you could smell the cologne he wore, how his arms felt like holding onto you, holding you to his chest. You got lost in the hazel of his eyes, feeling the same pull you did when you were looking at Sarah...

As if you had been waiting for them.

In the middle of your internal freaking out, Joel, unknown to you, also felt the same pull. He couldn’t lie, even when he was with Sarah’s mother, he never felt trully whole. As if he had found his true happiness...

As if he found a reason.

And looking at you, all kind and soft, helping and everything good, Joel couldn’t stay as a stranger to the beating of his heart. He got lost in your eyes, wondering what it would be like to hang out with you more...

You were definetly a beauty. A beauty that wouldn’t look for a man with a kid.

But your eyes almost invited him in, lips plush and waiting while he felt your fingers slowly caress his cheek. Was that how heaven felt-

“Sis, come here! She is finally getting a guy!”

“Damn, I didn’t think It would be that fast!”

You both widened your eyes and looked at the window, only to see your two sisters in front of their open windows, eating some chips while watching you two as if it was the most interesting thing for them.

You immediately pulled away from Joel, both sides missing the other’s warmth and scent, and ran to the open window to yell at them angrily while your cheeks felt hot even with the chill air.

For both ruining the moment, and also still being awake.

“What are you two bugs doing awake at this hour? You two have school tomorrow!” you exclaimed while Joel laughed behind you, the sound of it setting your heart aflame while one of your sisters waved to him, Joel doing the same when two angel-looking kids turned to you with mischievous looks

And it amused Joel so much so that he just leaned his hip to the side and watched you two roast the other.

“We know but just wanted to make sure that we’re still gonna watch that movie before sleeping...”

“ All you think is movies... Yeah, we are gonna watch it.” you looked at them to finally go and sleep, but the more timid one out of the two looked up shyly.

“Can... Can the baby come too? If her dad allows?” your worried eyes turned to Joel, who didn’t expect them to invite him and his daughter. He didn’t have many friends and this time was the first time he interacted with someone more than a few minutes.

And you could see that he liked his peace, by the way how you didn’t realize there were people living next to you.

“You don’t have to accept, if you don’t want to. I’ll talk to them-“ you offered him, not wanting to be here and let your sisters make you feel flustered anymore when a gentle hand caught your wrist to stop you, and gave you the most loving and happy grin he ever did. “We would be happy, as long as the movie is not bad.”

“It’s nothing bad, we swear! We’re gonna watch Barbie the Nutcracker and Barbie as Rapunzel!”

“How the hell can you hear us from there?!” your sister let out a huge laugh at that, while you grumbled under your breath to get out and show them a funny shit, and Joel looked between you two confused, being not well-versed into the many movies you had been watching because of those kids.

“What the hell are those?”

“trust me, you will know them better than your own name when Sarah grows up...” you groaned even more when he chuckled and the most breathtaking smile overtook his face, which made you smile even brighter and let out a shy chuckle.

But obviously, it was a disgusting sight for the eleven years olds.

“It ain’t my fault you don’t know the legendary movie of the century sir, seriously I don’t wanna be an adult... Anyways we’re goin’ sleeping!” they groaned at the love-sick smiles you two were giving to each other, silently betting when you would get together with him.

“You better, kids. I’m not taking your asses out that bed tomorrow!” and that was their final warning before they scurried of to their beds which made you sigh and dart out of the door,remembering all the things you had to write.

But you didn’t forget to turn back and give Joel a thumbs up. “The movie night starts at 8 p.m tomorrow, I’ll be waiting for you.”

And only thing Joel could do, was to make a thumbs up back, and even when he laid down on the bed next to his daughter’s crib, he couldn’t stop the excited beating of his heart. He turned to look at her sweet face with a hand over his heart and chuckled into the deep silence of the night.

“You showed off your picking the right person talents huh, kid?”

#joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou x reader #tlou series #tlou imagine #tlou x you #tlou hbo #the last of us x reader #the last of us imagine

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lucyandthepen · 10 months

Text

last eden - i . | lmh

part i, ii, iii

only one thing has ever mattered to you, in this lifetime, and in all others : mark lee — even if he doesn't know yet, and even if he may never remember.

pairing: mark x reader verse: canon/idol!verse, soulmates trope rating: T warnings: none, possibly some mild language, like... one very tame mention of making love ig word count: 4.3k

A/N: yeah i have a lot of these fics that i'm repurposing that i desperately want to post so i can continue them so please look the other way at my random over enthusiasm i beg !! my only long-standing mark fic is actually gorgeous, and while we do love a good raunchy piece, i love mark way too much to keep it to just that. this was my first ever fic on my old blog, and i'm quite attached to the idea despite the fact that it's actually very difficult for me to write. i changed the name because i actually love this song by maktub (anything he puts out is gold to me), which i think generally fits the vibe of the story, so give it a listen if you're interested! so i hope you all enjoy this idol!verse soulmates fic! (help a gal out by reblogging, liking, and leaving a few kind words if you're so inclined!)

“This isn’t really your best idea.”

You know this. You’re fully aware of the possible and endless risks as well as the minimal benefits. But you have to go. The thing that Heehyeon, your roommate, doesn’t fully understand is that this could be your one and only shot, and it could mean life or death. And you know that sounds pretty dramatic, but it really is. you don’t really have all the details (when, where, how, the important stuff) but that doesn’t matter to you right now.

What really matters is that today is NCT’s comeback stage at M! Countdown, and you have to be there.

Unfortunately, this isn’t one of those things you have to go to because your a die-hard fan and you just have to support the group and do all those fan chants and lie to your mom about going to the library when you’re really staying over outside a company building for hours just to wave those silly, expensive light sticks that look like they came out of the factory a bit funny. Sure, NCT’s music was nice (enough), but that isn’t really the reason why you told your mom not to come over this weekend because you would be out on a company team building retreat (as if they actually do that). More than anything, you knew you had to take this chance to see him.

When you don’t respond, Heehyeon presses on with a firmer tone, as if she’s determined to convince you even though you both know nothing is really going to stop you at this point.

“Listen to me, _____________. You are going to a tightly-packed music show with at least a hundred other fans, and you are going to stand in the middle of that dense crowd and — and what? Stare up at him. That’s it. He’s not going to see you; that stage is so high up he’ll probably only catch a look at your forehead, and that’s if you make it up front. And since we both know you’re neither the tallest nor the luckiest person in the world, you know the odds are against you. You’re probably going to get pushed to the back, or stampeded, and it’s going to be messy, and you’re going to push, and they’re going to push you back, and your make-up is going to fall apart, or whatever. Is this really worth it?”

“I told you,” you try to sound patient, but the idea of being buffeted away from the stage by a large wave of sweaty bodies causes more discomfort than you had originally anticipated thanks to her colorful and supremely unhelpful description. “If being near the stage doesn’t work out, I’ll wait out back, near the exit, and —“

“Oh yeah, and ambush him. Because you’ll be the only one there, and because that’s totally safe.” She drops the slightly (well, pretty) judgmental tone when she sees your bottom lip quiver. “I’m not… I’m not saying you shouldn’t try to reach out to him. But this doesn’t sound like the best way, _____________. Security is so tight there, and NCT’s security is even more wary. Even if you do manage to get close, what in the world are you going to say?”

“I— I’ll figure it out once I’m there.” You purse your lips; surely I love you; we’re meant to be together wouldn’t be that hard on your end, but the more important question is: did it sound sane? You didn’t express this doubt, though. Doing so would give your roommate more ammunition to turn back at you; you’d play it by ear when you actually got around to making eye contact with him (if that ever happened at all). And — well, maybe you wouldn’t have to say anything. Maybe, just maybe, this time, he’d remember you.

At that thought, you feel an initial wave of laughter, closely followed by a second, much more painful wave of nausea. Of all the absurd things you could think of, that was probably the most ridiculous.

“This isn’t a good idea,” she recapitulates, shaking her head. “You know what they do to people who stalk idols and say they’re really going to get married to them, or whatever. You know what they’d call you.”

“But I’m not crazy like that,” you argue.

“I know that, but they don’t know anything about you! You’d be labeled a sasaeng. They’ll probably think you’re one of those girls that sneak into their dorms and sniff their underwear before selling them on the dark side of Taobao through a weird Chinese proxy or something.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” You ball your fists at your side, feeling a little betrayed. Heehyeon, of all people, should be able to understand why you had to do this, even if it was ludicrous. She had remembered you, reached out to you before you could even place her. She’d heard your story, understood that you had been waiting years for this moment, even stopped you on other occasions when you were about to do the same thing you were planning now, saying it wasn’t the right time. “I don’t have any other way of contacting him. I don’t even know if this is going to work, but you know I have to try, and I feel like this is the right time. I have to see him. I have to — I have to be with him. I don’t need your blessing to go, you know.”

There’s a palpable tension hanging over you now, and Heehyeon’s expression has gone mostly unreadable, save for that twinge of worry still present in her gaze. The soft sound of regular, heavy exhales punctuate every few seconds that pass, and you realize a little later that it’s your breathing, which has turned a bit heavy from the energy spent sort-of yelling at your roommate.

“I know that,” she finally sighs. “I know that, _____________. I just wish you used a different way. Like, a safer, less crazy one.”

“I would use one if there were one.” You frown. “I’m not going to do anything stupid, like attack him. I would never do that.”

She doesn’t say much anymore, opting to watch you instead as you stuff a few more essential things in your bag. A hat. A fan. a bottle of water. Heehyeon had tried to coerce you to buy one of those cheering kits with those slogans, but you didn’t want to waste your money on it, and, truthfully, you didn’t want his name hanging on your walls like some sick reminder in case he rejected you.

“What did you tell your manager?” She asks in a clear attempt to lighten the mood.

“I told her I was sick. You know she never really asks as long as I find someone to substitute for me,” you sling your bag over your shoulder, standing straighter. “How do I look?”

“Pretty damn healthy,” she notes. “But also kind of crazy.”

“I’ll see you tonight, Heehyeon,” you roll your eyes as you make your way out of the room. Before you close the door, she makes one last quick remark.

“Not if I see you on the evening news first!”

You have to take two buses to get to Sangamsan-ro. Even though the traffic is generally mild, the buses make too many stops and wait too long for old ladies with their fruit baskets and newspapers to get on. The wait is making you anxious, and you think about getting an orange to abate your growing hunger, but you’re also so nervous that you’re sure you’re going to spew it all out onto the bus floor anyway. So, you content yourself with listening to music and fiddling with your fingers in your lap.

All you have in your phone is NCT’s music. The files were so large that you’d had to delete everything else you used to listen to and a handful of pictures too (mostly selfies that would have never seen the light of day, anyway) just to get them to fit. You used to only listen to the Korean versions, but you’d found all these little nuances in how Mark raps his lines depending on the language, so you’d started listening to the English and Japanese releases too, even though you can’t understand a lick of anything but ‘baby.’ Most of the time, you skip over to the relevant (see: Mark-filled) parts, already having memorized their timestamps to a kind of sick degree.

It was kind of dumb, and sort of selfish, but you had never really identified yourself as an NCT fan anyway. If you had been an active part of the groups following, people would have probably called you an akgae. You were really only concerned with one member, and it was that member’s voice that filled your ears when you’d plugged your earbuds in and put the volume up.

The first time you’d seen him was in your last year of college. One of your college friends had asked you to accompany them to a Nature Republic outlet downtown. Despite your general lack of interest in make-up at that point in time, you’d gone because she’d promised to buy you a corndog. What you’d gotten instead was a large standee of a handsome guy smiling at you and holding out a pot of aloe vera gel.

You knew his eyes. Even though his features changed a million times in your memory, you could never mistake his eyes for anyone else’s — soft, warm, brown eyes that you’d stared into for truly an eternity. His were eyes you could never forget, were never allowed to forget. You could remember the millions of times they’d smiled up at you in those past lives you were haunted with, twinkled with mischief and laughter in your presence, borne deep into yours on hot summer nights as you made love. Of all the uncertain things in all of the lives you remembered living, these eyes acted as your anchor.

You’d almost forgotten you were there with a friend until she’d called out to you, telling you to step inside the shop. Trying to sound disinterested despite the fact that your heart was pounding, you asked who the guy in the standee was. Mark, she’d called him. Mark of NCT. He was an idol, a rapper in one of those up and coming groups that was starting to gain a lot of attention within the general public because of their ‘cool, chic concepts.’ At that information, your heart had fallen into a pool of acid in your stomach.

Other times were hard, but not this hard. Most of the factors that had kept you or torn you apart were much larger in scale — war, famine, other natural disasters. This, out of all the other times, seemed to be the most difficult; he wasn’t an ordinary man anymore, but a god among men — a god you couldn’t be allowed to approach. You had ditched your friend the moment she’d gotten her change back at the counter, citing a sudden time of the month as the root cause, and dashed out and back to school, sparing only one last glance at the standee.

You’d been waiting for him for years, carefully looking for any sign of him in the people around you, but you had grown tired and had come to believe that maybe, in this life, you had been set free — that he didn’t exist, and the curse would be over. However, as you pored over each and every teaser, music video, advertisement, and blurry, noise-heavy radio interview you could find even a sliver of his face in, you realized that the curse had come back, and in a much larger force than you could ever imagine.

You’d stared at your desk for the longest time that day; the sun had dipped out of sight already when you’d sighed yourself out of your trance. It had never been this difficult. Having the Memory was mostly the worst thing ever, but its usual perk was that you could pick him out a little easier, and he was never too far away — nobody you ever knew in your first life ever was. They just kept coming up again and again, running around in little circles throughout time and space, and you recognized them in a way you’ve come to grow familiar with. It’s a tug, sort of like a tickle in your stomach, and you knew then that he was close by. The signal only stopped when you found him, and it usually wasn’t that hard. From there, you were responsible for weaving the same kind of story — one in which you would fall in love, be happy for a period of time, and then… well.

Heehyeon has the Memory, too. She’d remembered you from a previous life, too, and picked you out of a packed line at a coffee shop, striking up one of the most awkward conversations you’d ever had the displeasure of being a part of because she hadn’t been sure if you remembered her. It was only when she mentioned that you seemed like someone she could be good friends with and that you also seemed like you just happened to like your coffee black with two sugars did you realize that her sudden onslaught of friendliness was a sign she might be like you: unable to forget. She’d actually once asked you if you’d tried just letting him go, and you’d responded with a resolute no. At this point, it was too hard to call him a lost cause, even if he really seemed it. How could you stop loving someone you know you’ve loved for millennia?

He’s extremely handsome in this life, you’ve noted. Girls were falling all over him, which only made things ten times harder. A couple of years back, some rumors of him dating a labelmate had come up. Heehyeon had talked you through that long night of you clutching tissues in a fist and sobbing about how you didn’t want this anymore, how it was never fair, how every single time you had to find him was just growing more and more difficult until it seemed to reach an impossible arc. But, mostly, you’d cried because you hated the possibility — probably the confirmation — that he didn’t remember you at all.

You didn’t really expect him to, but you always hoped. Every life, you would approach him, and he would be a clean slate. It was a tiring process, one you wished you weren’t constantly responsible for. Some days, you resented him; how could he live his life carefree, without even the notion that you two were meant to be together? Most days, though, you just longed for him. Him, and a happy ending.

You let out a sigh as the track changes. His voice greets you again; over time, you’ve noticed it sounding even cooler, more impactful. He’s doing well for himself. And here you are, attempting to make yourself stand out in a pool of fans he probably can’t even see clearly. Nice.

You get to listen to about half of the newly released album before you realize you’re nearing your stop. Sidestepping a couple of baskets of oranges, you make it to the door and dash out. Heehyeon had drawn you a crude map to CJ E&M, and you’d been skeptical of it at first, but you realize now you would have gotten lost and missed the stage long before you got there if you had gone in blind. You’d make sure to thank her when you got back. If you did actually come back in one piece.

Heehyeon also hadn’t been joking; the line outside looks like it would fill a whole section of Jamsil. You’d heard of the dedication of some of these fans, but you’d never seen it like this, nor had you ever actually been a part of it. Kids were really up at three in the morning in support of NCT. Many of them are probably here specifically in support of Mark, you think. Sure enough, the people you line up behind are holding holographic slogans with the print “Mark-yah!” You swallow hard, trying not to regret your decision not to partake in that.

It feels like hours before you get even close to the door of the building. The chatter has died down a little, but not by much; even with less people ahead of you, the noise pollution increases in tandem with the excitement in the atmosphere. You’re not excited, though. You’re sick to your stomach, wishing you hadn’t come alone and wondering if you were going to regret this. Probably. Luckily, a couple of teenagers behind you strike up a casual conversation starting with “ah, it’s getting more humid now,” and you take turns complaining about what the weather would probably be like later on in the day before you start talking about NCT. They’re both Jaehyun fans, and you think about whether or not you remember meeting him in a past life. Nothing really rings a bell.

When you tell them you’re here for Mark, they giggle.

“We know,” they chime. “You’re wearing blue.”

“It’s his favorite color,” you say, a little defensively.

“Everyone knows that. Everyone here wearing that ocean blue is a Mark fan. Didn’t he say so once?” They dissolve into laughter again, but you say nothing. Maybe he had said that recently. Then again, his favorite color has always been blue — the color of the sky and the sea he seems to love so much.

The line grows shorter and shorter, and your ankles feel like they’re starting to swell. You’ve been standing for a good two hours now, and you regret not having bought one of those NCT membership cards that get you up to the front of the line. It’s really no surprise that you, the two Jaehyun fans, and the others in the line behind you are all squished in the back, just like Heehyeon had said you would be. It takes a good twenty minutes before the lights dim down and the stage lights start up, and you hear the buzz that increases in volume right before it becomes a collective deafening shriek from the crowd. The light sticks go up, and you’re momentarily blinded by the large stars that blink NCT in some weird logo form before you get your bearings again. By that time, the members have begun trooping onto the stage in a single file, and you forget your swollen ankles as you tiptoe and crane your head for a better view.

He’s there, your mind screams. He’s right there. You’ve got a whole crowd in front of you, but he’s right there.

The Jaehyun fans are losing their mind too; he’s talking, asking them how they found the album and encouraging them to keep supporting it. Typical idol stuff, you assume, but the fans go wild in an attempt to reassure him that they will. They all speak in a line, and you note Mark will be last. When the mic is handed over to him, the fans start screaming again. You feel like you want to yell as well, except you’re not sure if you’ll say something actually coherent that other people will hear. Instead, you tiptoe a little higher, fixing your pretty bad eyesight on his face and perking your ears up.

“You’re all here so early,” he starts. “How long have you been waiting for us?”

A flurry of numbers fly across the room. He smiles in this genuinely affectionate way even though his eyes can’t focus on a single person in the dark, and your heart stutters at the sight.

“Do your mothers know you’re here?” He’s teasing now. “You can’t tell them that NCT is the reason you’re not sleeping well, you know. Everyone, make sure that you eat breakfast and rest well before school today, okay?”

While the crowd screams in response, you let out a little whimper. It’s a weak, pathetic sound, but it essentially sums up how you feel, seeing him like this from so far away.

The pre-recording starts, but you barely catch anything. You’re too small for this kind of life, and you get so tired of tiptoeing that you actually do try to push your way through the crowd. Of course, this is fruitless, and you end up squatting by the back wall of the room, sipping on your water conservatively and listening to the Jaehyun fans do the chant religiously.

NCT performs the song two more times before they’re saying their goodbyes. You muster up the energy to stand again and make a beeline for the exit before everyone else can smash their way through. The sun is almost up now; beads of sweat form on the nape of your neck as you round the building, trying to find the indicated spot that Heehyeon had marked as the back exit of CJ E&M. You worry about how you’re in the wrong place for about ten minutes until you see the two Jaehyun fans turning the corner quickly, obviously with the same goal as you: to catch NCT as they leave the building.

In no time, the fans have gathered at the spot again, and it seems like they’ve multiplied tenfold; the chants are louder and there are girls with gigantic cameras trying to shove you away from the spot. Security from the company camps out in front of you, their gazes shifting from the door to the crowd and back again.

People around you roar the moment the doorknob turns. Nine of them file out, now in regular clothing, surrounded by their own security. You feel a surge of force behind you, trying to push forward, and someone’s camera lens hits you hard in the side of the face. You barely have time to cry out in surprise, caught in what would have been a scream of pain, when you see him.

In the growing light, Mark looks like a king. No — like a god, actually. Everything on his face shines even when minimal sunlight strikes it; his teeth help, too, brightening his face as his mouth hangs open in an easy laugh. He’s talking to Doyoung and has to face him, his sharp jawline being the first thing anyone can see from that perspective, and it’s that angle that creates all these alarms in your head.

For some reason, you’ve blocked out the noise around you. Even the pain from the camera lens attack isn’t bothering you as much anymore; you feel like you’re in an aquarium, and all the screams are on the other side of the glass. Your vision tunnels; all you can see is him.

You’d promised Heehyeon you wouldn’t do anything stupid. Again and again, she’d asked you and drilled you and reminded you that you weren’t supposed to do anything that would get you into trouble. Even with those promises you’d made, she’d still doubted you. Later, when you’d tell her this story, she’d roll her eyes and yell I told you so!, because, well, she did tell you. And, when you’d look at it in retrospect, you’d see that you should have listened.

Right now, though, you’re walking. Somehow, the camera lens that had attacked you had turned its gaze onto much more important targets; the guard stationed in front of you grunted in pain and reflexively retracted his hand after the lens made contact with it. It wasn’t a long movement, but it was enough for you to be pushed forward by the crowd. Enough to get your feet moving.

Other fans had stopped trying to break through; though many were still hysterical, most were trying to take pictures of the members as they climbed into the van. One by one, they were disappearing before your eyes. No, you thought to yourself. Your chest tightened. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you think that the noise behind you has gotten much louder. Not now. He hasn’t seen me yet. Not yet, please.

You don’t realize that your feet have picked up the pace, and you’ve broken into a short sprint before the building security could catch you. It’s too late; he can’t leave his post, and he only has to hope that NCT’s staff are well-equipped to fend off a running girl. They are, but they’re too busy helping the members that they’re caught unaware — just long enough for you to be within an arm’s reach of them.

Mark is almost in the van; he’s caught off-guard, too, and he doesn’t realize that something’s not right until you’re already there. Security grabs his arm and tries to tug him out of your reach and into the van at the same time that a strong hand grapples at the back of your shirt. Doyoung, who had been by Mark’s side, tries to use his arms to shield you from his friend when he realizes who you are targeting, yelling out something you can’t really understand.

It’s a ten-second long struggle of limbs in which you hear your own “Let go of me!” harmonize perfectly with Mark’s frantic “What the —?” Somehow, though, you’re able to fight through Doyoung’s arms and grip Mark’s wrist with a sweaty palm. The contact causes him to turn back reflexively, eyes wide in shock.

His eyes. God, please, won’t he recognize me? Your fingers close around his wrist a little more tightly. Your mouth is dry, and your throat is on fire. You’re wasting precious time. You only manage out a weak, “Please, Mark, it’s me,” before he’s twisting his wrist away. The arm that gripped your shirt moves to lock around your waist, and you’re hauled, empty-handed, away from the van. Awareness you’d lost slowly trickles back into you. The crowd isn’t screaming at the members now; they’re screaming at you. They’re angry. As you’re dragged away, you vaguely note that the Jaehyun fans you were with are fuming behind the security guards still keeping them in place.

The security guard that carried you off like a rag doll plants you in front of him, and he lets go of your waist but still keeps his grip tight around both your forearms, which have been twisted behind you. You have no choice but to watch from afar as the members drag Mark into the van, looks of concern etched across their faces. They ask him if he’s hurt, and he shakes his head. Right before the door closes, he quickly glances back at you. Your heart sinks for the second time today as you see something in his eyes you’d never seen before.

Fear. Mark is afraid of you.

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ynbabe · 1 year

Text

TUA x Reader :- Incorrect quotes

Five: Watcha doin?

Y/N, an inter-dimentional time traveler : Stealing from the commission.

Five: Scandalous.

Five: Can I help?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Five: Are you busy?

Y/N, laying on the floor, falling from the time rip Five opened in season 2: No.

Five, trying to understand who he is and why he’s there: Want to do something?

Y/N, looking up from his own blood: Why would you try to ruin this for me?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Klaus, pointing a camera at Five and his ‘friend’: There they are, our sweet babies.

Five, holding a cigarette and a beer, Y/N, pulling out the knife Five stabbed him with and chugging wine,: What-?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Five: Y/N is not allowed to decide which one of us is the chosen one.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Y/N: Hey there demons, It's me, ya boi.

Five: I’M NOT A DEMON!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Diego, oldest sibling extraordinare {luther don’t count}: Christmas is cancelled.

Y/N, not a part of the family: You can't cancel a holiday.

Diego, adopted them already: Keep it up, Y/N, and you'll lose New Year's too.

Y/N: What does that mean?

Diego: Klaus, take New Year's away from Y/N.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

*Comments under an image of a really hot knife cutting bread*

Diego: Imagine stabbing someone with this knife.

Y/N: It would instantly cauterize the wound, so the person wouldn't bleed, so it's not very useful.

Five: if you want information it is

Klaus: why would you STAB a person when you can have TOAST?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Diego, watching Y/N and Five fight: Are you sure they should be fighting? What if they break Elliot’s stuff?

Klaus, not bothered by the chaos: It’s fine. They’re too evenly matched to hurt each other... or anything else... hopefully.

Diego: Then... who’s the strongest?

Klaus: Y/N.

Five: Me.

Y/N: Me.

Y/N: ...

Five: ....

Y/N and Five: *Start fighting again*

Diego: I mean it’s kinda fun right?

Klaus: Yeah, want popcorn?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Klaus: You guys worried about Five?

Diego: Totally!

Y/N: Yeah, he teleported to me in the middle of the night and just yelled, "what do I do, what do I do, what do I do, what do I do?"

Klaus: And what'd you say?

Y/N: "I dunno, I dunno, I dunno, I dunno."

Diego:

Klaus: He’s lucky to have you as a friend.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Five: Look guys, I need help.

Klaus: Love help?

Y/N: Financial help?

Viktor: Emotional help?

Diego: Help moving a body?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Viktor: Ah, yes. Here we have a beautiful broship...

Klaus: I really care about your feelings!

Diego: I really care about YOUR feelings!

Viktor, turning his head: ...and then there's the disaster couple...

Y/N: YOU NEED TO PAY MORE ATTENTION TO ME INSTEAD OF HIDING BODIES!

Five: I WOULDN'T HAVE TO SPEND SO MUCH TIME HIDING BODIES IF YOU STOPPED INSISTING ON FIGHTING EVERYONE WHO COMES WITHIN A FIVE FOOT RADIUS OF YOU!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Viktor: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Diego: >:O language

Five: Yeah watch your fucking language

Klaus: Okay, who taught Five the fuck word?!

Y/N: 'The fuck word'.

Sparrow!Ben, highly comercialized: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time

Five: Oh my god he censored it

Y/N: Say fuck, Ben.

Five: Do it, Ben. Say fuck.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

*The Squad with cigarettes*

Y/N: I smoke regularly.

Allison: I smoke sparingly.

Sparrow!Ben: I smoked once, but I didn't care for it.

Five: I've never smoked, but the idea intrigues me.

Diego: I've never smoked, and I refuse to do so.

Viktor: What's a cigarette?

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Five, trying to be happier, after strict orders from Klaus and Diego: A butterfly. Hey, little guy, gal or nonbinary pal.

Diego: Can a butterfly be nonbinary?

Five: I mean, maybe? I don't judge.

Viktor, staring dreamily out of the window: Ah, have you ever imagine having butterfly wings? Then-

Klaus: Then it would be inconvenient as fuck. Your wings would smack every doorframe and your clothes would have to have holes in the back.

Sparrow!Ben: Also, your wing's paper thin, so even a six year old aimed a NERF gun at it would... Yeah...

Y/N: *sips coffee* According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way that a-

Viktor: No, nononono. You fuckers have already shattered my dream, you don't get the fucking privilege to make that reference.

Diego: Also, it's about a butterfly, not a bee... Why would you make that reference?

Five: You clearly have not known with the bastard long enough.

#the umbrella academy #tua #luther hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #five hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #tua x reader #tua x male reader #five x reader #five x male reader

440 notes · View notes

arc-misadventures · 10 months

Text

The Fashionable Date

Jaune walked to a dorm room used by one of his upperclassmates. He knocked on the door with a hint of hesitation. He wasn’t worried about talking with her, but considering the nature of what they were about to talk about he couldn’t help, but be a little worried.

The quickly door opened, and he was face to face with one roughish smirk from one hell of a beautiful gal. The one, and only, Coco Adel.

Coco: Well, well, well, look at who we have here? Hello handsome, what can I do for you~?

Jaune: Hey, Coco, are you busy today?

Coco: I’m free as can be. Why do you ask?

Jaune: Well, after recent events I need to buy some new clothes. And, since I’m more, or less a fashion slob, I thought I should ask, Beacons fashionista for some advice. So what do you say, Coco; Want to see how well you can dress up a dragon?

Coco: Oh hell yeah I do! This is going to be so much fun! Now, how can I dress up a handsome blond like you? Oh so many choices, so many decisions… Well, regardless of whatever choices I make, I will have to factor in those horns of yours. Can’t wear anything like a teeshirt anymore; You would probably tear it up trying to put it on…

Coco: …

Coco: Wait… Horns…? When the hell did you get those?! They’re quite fetching~!

Jaune: Oh thanks… I got them yesterday after we did some tests to see how effective my fire breath can be.

Coco: And, how did those tests go?

Jaune: Well… considering how… devastating my flame can be… honestly I’m hesitant to use it on, Grimm.

Coco: So since you were testing your ability to breath fire, does that explain why you were walking around, Beacon with nothing but your breast plate, giving everyone such a tantalizing view of your body~? Because I must say, you really filled out~!

Jaune: O-Oh… T-Thank you… But, uhh… It’s, Weiss’s fault all my clothes go incinerated.

Coco: Oh, really?

Jaune: She helped test my ability to withstand fire, and extreme heats. So, she set me on fire…

Coco: She did?

Jaune: Yeah, she incinerated all the clothes I had on during the test. All that survived is my armour, but all the leather straps have burned up as well, so I might as well replace my armour while I’m at it. So… you know anywhere I can find some, Fire Dust fused clothing so that doesn’t happen again?

Coco: I do, but it’s gonna cost you.

Jaune: I’m one of the richest men in the world; So long as they’re functional, I’m good.

Coco: Oh yes, you mentioned you were a rich dragon when you showed off all those gems of yours. Tell me, Love, how rich are you? I want to know what our spending range is.

Jaune: Ehh… I’ve never looked to see how much money is in my account. But, I know my, Net Worth is an estimated 787.5 Billion.

Coco: 7-787.5 B-Billion?!

Jaune: You can make a lot mining raw metals, gems, and dust. Also, constructing infrastructure, military bases, machinery, aircraft, armour…

Coco: Y-You’re rich! You’re filthy stinking rich! You can but anything you want, and you dress like a country bumpkin?! WHY?!

Jaune: Comfort over style?

Coco: This is a crime against fashion! Come on, Arc! It’s time to get you some style!

Jaune: Whoa, HEY?!

~~~

Jaune was standing in the open doorway to a changing booth, giving, Coco a spin as he showed off the apparel she recommended to him.

Coco: Oh yeah… Mama likey~!

Jaune: It’s pretty nice, but it’s rather tight.

Coco: Just like, Mama likes~!

Coco raised her hand up, and brought it crashing down upon, Jaune’s tight butt.

“Smack~!”

Jaune: AHH! Hey?!

Coco: Gotta say you got one hell of a nice ass~!

Jaune: Only because these pants are so tight…

Coco: Why do you think I told you to wear it?

Jaune: To check out my ass?

Coco: And, loving it~!

Jaune: Haa… They’re nice… Everything looks great. But, my hair… Did they really have to cut my hair like this? I didn’t invite you out to get a hair cut.

Coco: What’s wrong with it? It’s a shaggy brush cut, simple, stylistic, and really fits you. Plus it really shows off your horns.

Jaune: It does show off my horns… Glad the sash I found matches them.

Coco: You know, I’m usually against sashes, but that white, with golden fringe really blends together nicely.

Jaune: And, you said I didn’t have any style.

Coco: And, I stand by those words! You were dressed like an absolute slob!

Jaune: But, now?

Coco: But, now after some proper guidance from yours truly you look ready to slay ‘em with your handsome looks, and winning smile~!

Jaune: I don’t think my looks will help me kill, Grimm, Coco.

Coco: I wasn’t talking about, Grimm.

Jaune: Then what are you talking about?

Coco: Haa… Still as dense as ever, Handsome.

Jaune: What?

Coco: So armour, any plans for that upgrade you mentioned?

Jaune: Something more form fitting, that covers more of my body. Something I can put on without worrying about my horns. Going to get some gauntlets, but they’ll probably be fingerless so I can retract my claws. I probably should get some measurements done for that soon…

Coco: Most likely, you’re not your lanky self you were when you first came here. Hence the tight pants.

Jaune: No, that’s so you can stare at my butt.

Coco: Still loving the view.

Jaune: You’re just jealous you don’t have a butt like mine.

Coco: Excuse me?! I have a great ass!

Jaune: No, pretty flat looking.

Coco: You wanna go bud!

Jaune: As in go into a arena for a fight, or go into a supply closet like you did with, Pyrrha?

Though most couldn’t see it, Jaune’s enhanced eyes could easily see the brief moment of shock that flashed in, Coco’s eyes. Just as easily as he saw the lighest of blushes that was spreading across her face.

Coco: What are you talking about?

Jaune: Don’t play coy with me, Coco it’s not going to work.

Coco: I’m not playing coy, I have no idea what you are talking about.

Jaune: Oh, so nothing happened between you, and Pyrrha in the supply closet outside the biology classroom then?

Coco: Wait?! How did you know he had sex there?

Jaune: You had sex? I thought you said nothing happened.’ Does that mean something did happen?

Coco’s face was flushed red as she looked around for an excuse to draw his attention away. But, finding none she finally relented, and told him the truth.

Coco: Okay… After you left, Pyrrha asked if I wanted in on your little harem thing, and I asked if I joined if that meant I could also sleep with her… So we went into that supply closet… and, had some fun. There, happy?

Jaune: I’m surprised you were so hesitant to tell me. I thought you would brag that you banged the, Invincible Girl.

Coco: I’m a kiss, and don’t tell kind of gal. Spoils the mood if you go about bragging about it.

Jaune: Plus it’s polite. Though, every faunas I’ve met knows we did it… Faunas stuff.

Coco: Yeah, I remember, Velvet glaring daggers at her. But, how did you know we did it? Did, Pyrrha brag about us having sex?

Jaune: No, Pyrrha likes her privacy more so than you do.

Coco: Hold on; if, Pyrrha never told you about us, then how did you find out about us?

Jaune: Oh, that? Quite simple really.

In a flash, Jaune reached out, and grabbed, Coco’s ass, pulling her close to him until their bodies were flush with one another. Coco yelped as he grabbed her ass, and was about to yell at him, to slap him, but his grip tightened upon her ass as she stifled a moan at his touch. But, before she could make another sound, Jaune’s head dipped lower until he growled softly in her ear, and simply said:

Jaune: I knew you two had sex, because I can still smell her on you.

A wildfire being propelled by a strong breeze was slower than the deep blush that quickly spread across, Coco’s face.

Coco Adel was the one whose teased others into a blushing mess. She could flirt one into a stubor. She new how to make anyone, man, or woman utterly flatfooted with her seductive teasing. But, she had never been put on the backfoot like, Jaune had done with that simple sentence.

Coco: Y-You could smell us?!

Jaune: Shhh… You don’t want others to hear us now do you?

Coco could only stifle a moan as, Jaune pulled her closer, giving her ass a tight squeeze in the process.

Coco: S-Sorry… B-But, you can really smell her on me? We did that a week ago?!

Jaune just smiled, showing off his fangs as he chuckled as, Coco’s composure was swiftly crumbling.

Jaune: Don’t worry, only I can smell it. No one else’s sense of smell is strong enough to pick up such subtle smells. But, I can easily pick up, Pyrrha’s sent from all the time we’ve spent together. And, there is only one person I know that smells like mocha, and gunpowder~!

Coco’s face was flush red as her voice fled her. He mouth hung agape as his voice echoed in her mind.

Coco: T-That’s what I smelt like to you; Mocha, and gunpowder?

Jaune: It’s quite the tantalizing smell. However, you’ve recently acquired an all the more intoxicating smell upon you.

Coco: Oh, that’s just some perfume I put on earlier…

Jaune: No, not that. That barely has any noticeable scent to it.

Coco: Then… was is it… what do you smell?

Jaune’s eyes look around behind her, before he pushed her inside the changing booth, he quickly shut, and locked the door behind him. As, Coco righted herself she felt, Jaune’s hand grab her, and turned her to face him as he pushed her against the wall. His hands holding her tenderly, one along her waist, while the other cupped her cheek, forcing her to stare directly at, Jaune’s predatory expression.

Before she could utter a word, Jaune used his finger to pull of her glasses, letting them gently fall to the floor with a dull thud. Her face was red, her breathing was heavy, and her eyes were lost in his. All she could do was stare on as, Jaune smiled at her, and spoke those few simple words she never wanted to hear.

Jaune: I smell desire, hunger, and lust… It’s such a tantalizing smell~!

Coco knew, Jaune; If she said the word, just one word, he would pull off of her apologizing all the while for what he did. Just because he had a throng of woman willing to throw themselves at him at the drop of a hat did not mean he would just bed any woman. He would treat them with respect, and he wanted to know if they truly wanted this. So if she said the word, just one word he would back away, no questions, no pleas, no begging. He would just leave her be, and that would be that.

Those were the thoughts running through her mind as she grabbed his golden locks and pulled him into a deep, searing kiss.

Coco had fun with someone in a changing room before. They we’re usually girls insecure about their sexuality, or curious what it would be like. So since she was up for a little tumble now, and then she helped them find the answers to these burning questions of theirs. However, when these little escapades happened, she was in control; she set the pace, she set the mood, she was the one in control. And yet, she was completely helpless under the onslaught, Jaune wrought upon her. And, she was loving every second of it.

Jaune grabbed, Coco by her waist, and pulled her in for a hungry kiss that dominated her lips causing her to moan in wanton lust as her fingers intertwined with his hair as she pulled him closer, deepening their kiss.

Jaune soon pried her mouth open with his tongue, shoving his tongue into her mouth, and her in turn. Their tongues swirled around one another as they duelled for control. Coco relished in the icy cold flavour that hung about his mouth, while, Jaune in turned savoured the sweet taste of coffee that hung about hers. The duo were falling into a drunken stupor as the drowned in the pleasure of one another’s mouths, but it was soon brought to an end as, Coco remember something very, very important about, Jaune’s tongue.

It was long, incredibly long at that.

In order to stake his claim, Jaune pushed his long tongue deeper into, Coco’s mouth, at first she gave a squeak in shock as she felt his tongue seemingly coil around hers, and push deeper into her mouth as a guttural moan escaped her lips between baited breaths of air. Sadly their fun was brought to a swift end when, Jaune’s tongue had pushed just a little too far, and, Coco started to gag from it.

Jaune quickly removed his tongue from the depths of her mouth as, Coco reeled back, and coughed almost roughly from having the invading organ within her.

Coco: “Cough, cough!” Holy hell… Did you literally shove your tongue down my throat?

Jaune: Haha… Sworry…

Jaune’s tongue was hanging several inches from the bottom of his mouth before slurping back inside. Coco could only wonder in shock how he hid such a massive appendage.

Jaune: Pyrrha likes it when I do that to her, I got so into the kiss I forgot I wasn’t with, Pyrrha. Or, you for that matter. I just fell into the moment of it all.

Coco: Well… If I didn’t start gagging on it I don’t think I would have minded really. But, you better be careful with that thing; you’ll break a girl if you’re not careful.

Jaune: Oh really now~?

Jaune licked his lips with a predatory gaze as he moved closer to, Coco.

Jaune: In that case, lets see how hard it is to break you then~!

His hands reached for her belt, and undid the buckles, the buttons, and lastly the zipper before kneeling down before her as he dragged her pants, and her underwear down in one swift motion until she was bare before him.

Coco’s heart was racing, her breathing heavy, and quick. She knew what was going to happen, and just like before she knew how to stop it, and as she looked down at those deep blue eyes staring back at her she said the words she had to say.

Coco: Please… Please break me…

Jaune chuckled as he got to work. Coco’s hand immediately cover her mouth to stifle the yell that threatened to escape her lips. A yell that swiftly gave way to deep, gasping moans of pleasure as he began to eat her out.

Coco could barely contain the guttural moans that escaped her body as she bucked against his face. She bit her lips to hold them back as her hands grabbed a hold of his horns to steady herself, and pull him deeper into her welcoming opening.

Coco: MmmMMM~! How… Ahh~! How are you…?! Mmm~! So…! Ahhh! Good at this~?!

Jaune laughed softly as he pulled away, licking his lips with his long tongue before smiling up at, Coco’s blushing face.

Jaune: Most people don’t know this, but Pyrrha wasn’t my first time.

Coco: S-She wasn’t?

Jaune: Nope~! Case in point…

Jaune drove his head back, and went to town on, Coco. Her hands quickly cover her mouth as, Jaune attacked every her lower lips, basking her in unending pleasure of the body.

Coco: Fuckfuckfuckfuckfucyk~! Who taught you how to eat out a girl like this, a lesbian? Only girls are this good at eating out other girls! MmmmH~! I should know, I’ve… Ahhh~! Done it myself~!

Jaune: Actually yes, a lesbian did teach me. Well, she wasn’t a lesbian by the time we were done.

Coco: You turned a lesbian straight with your tongue?!

Jaune: She was more of a bisexual than a lesbian, I just made it a fact. Now, if you’ll excuse me; my meals getting cold.

Coco really shouldn’t interrupt him anymore, every time she interrupted him only denied him that exquisite tongue of his from caressing her body. And, to emphasize that he picked up his speed, and ravenously ate her out.

A hand clamped over her mouth while the other held him by one of his horns keeping him in place. Behind a flush face she looked down at him to see his deep cerulean eyes giving her a dangerous, and mischievous glint to his eyes.

She would swiftly learn how dangerous that glint in his eyes is.

Both of her hands were on her mouth covering up the guttural moan that if she removed her hands would be a moaning scream for all to hear, and all to be envious off as she felt him insert his long tongue into her precious depths. There are things in life you never expect to experience; the mind numbing pleasure of a faunas with a long tongue have a meal with you was something profound to experience.

She could feel his tongue swirling around her depths, mapping her insides out with his tongue for minutes that felt like they lasted for millennia’s. At long last she felt a quack in her hips, and she would relish it’s arrival. And, when it did she awoke with her butt on the ground, staring at, Jaune’s cocky smile as he licked his lips.

Jaune: Well, looks like I broke you.

Coco panted heavily as her mind raced to find where it had fallen off. And, she knew precisely where; At her peak, as soon as she had her mind numbing orgasm she blacked out, and was left here in a dazed state, but thoroughly satisfied state of mind.

She told him to break her, and good gods, he broke her.

Coco: I said that tongue of yours would break a girl… But, gods… You can break a girl…

Jaune: I aim to please~!

Coco: That’s an understatement if I ever heard one… H-How long was I out?

Jaune: Not long, about a minute, or two.

Coco: And, while I was out, you didn’t decide to keep on having fun?

Jaune: You wouldn’t be around to enjoy it; where’s the fun if you’re not enjoying it too?

Coco: Well, in that case…

Coco slowly rose on shaky legs, shaking from the unbridled pleasure, Jaune just assaulted her with. As she stood up, she turned around, and pressed her body to the wall, shaking her tantalizing round butt towards him, inviting him in.

Coco: Shall we continue~?

Jaune laughed softly to himself as he stood up, and stood behind, Coco’s plump rear, caressing it softly with his hand.

Jaune: We shall, butnot here.

Coco: What?! Why?!

Coco nearly shouted, but this time she remembered where they were. She look over to, Jaune, and saw him giving her an amused smile.

Jaune: Because, as nice it was hearing you trying to stifle a moan like you did, but what I really want to hear… Is you screaming my name~!

Jaune grabbed, Coco by her neck, and pulled him flush against her hotly whispering into her ear those few words that brought her over the edge again in seconds.

Coco: T-T-Then what are we waiting for; come on, make me scream~!

And, that is what she did, scream his name until she could scream no more. And, she loved every agonizing, intoxicating second of it.

~~~

Juniper: You’ve got to tell her to reel it in; Jaune doesn’t like a girl who screams at him to give her his babies, he finds that extremely off putting.

Kali: I’ve been trying to tell, Blake. But, does she listen? Noooo… She all about him pinning her down, and knocking her up on the spot. Where is the fun in that? I blame her choice in literature, there’s nothing romantic in her books, it’s just kinky self indulgence for inexperienced lovers.

Juniper: That’s my daughter’s target audience after all. You have to go with the easy marks.

Kali: Yes, but their not, Jaune’s type. I sear, if I could I would chase after him myself.

Juniper: What’s stopping you?

Kali: I’m a happily married woman, but if I wasn’t, I would be pregnant with his first child right now~!

Juniper: Second actually.

Kali: He’s already a father?!

Juniper: He’s the donor actually, they say it wasn’t him, but I know it was him. It’s cute they think I don’t know, but I…

Juniper: Hmmm…?

Kali: Juni? Is something wrong?

Juniper: My grandmother senses are tingling…

Kali: Well my aren’t! Ahhh! That means it’s not, Blake getting any! Haa… Best get, Sienna to get his kids then. One of my kids is going to give me adorable grandchildren, I don’t care which, but I damn well will get them!

Juniper: I know in mixed faunas families the baby’s faunas traits are a roulette wheel of possibilities, but I really want blond cat eared grandchildren.

Kali: Me too! Oh they would be so adorable~!

Juniper: I know right~?

#rwby #jaune arc #blake belladonna #pyrrha nikos #coco adel #sienna khan #kali belladonna #juniper arc

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banamine-bananime · 3 months

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just listing some of my headcanons (mostly appearance/demographics) because i like listing things and i’m procrastinating hard

caboose - 18-19 in 2552. went straight from hs graduation to basic to sim training to blood gulch. he was gonna do a program where the UNSC provides a hefty scholarship for completion of an engineering degree with a few years of service upon graduation, but got enlisted instead through a combination of paperwork being confusing for bureaucratic nonsense reasons, paperwork being confusing for deliberate predatory we-need-as-many-people-for-cannon-fodder-as-possible reasons, and him being confused by any paperwork. 6'7”, ~250 lb, very muscular and not thin but not quite chubby either, very mixed but mostly latino and arabic ethnicities, thick fluffy 3A chin-length dark brown hair that's always in his eyes, round face with cute fuzzy eyebrows and aquiline nose. him and tucker (and kinda donut and perhaps sarge) are the only motherfuckers here with a stable happy childhood. uses-no-specific-label queer cis dude.

church - we know church is 5 in blood gulch lol but it think he thought he was like 23-ish/jimmy was around that age. in jimmy's body, 5'10, ~230 lb, chubby and "normal" level of muscularity for someone who has a somewhat active job but doesn't work out much, untidy thick straight black hair that's like 2" grown-out from a buzz, face passably similar to the director if you squint but not really (e.g. shorter/squarer face, eyes hazel instead of stupidly light green). epsilon projects a similar bodytype but would probably default to a young-director-ish face if he had to make one. i think he would at some point consciously change it around if he were doing a face with any regularity. bisexual and nonbinary and will probably never fully acknowledge it but she can have some pronouns as a treat (from tex or in her own internal monologue) sometimes.

tucker - 18-19 in 2552. went straight from hs graduation to basic to sim training to blood gulch. enlisted because he was a “fuck around without any motivation or particular goals in life” kind of teenage dirtbag who was like “oh hey predatory recruiters absolutely dominating every career fair in Covenant-war-era earth. i’ve heard being in the military is very sexy and exciting and makes you a chick magnet so sure sign me up”. 5’4”, ~110 lb scrawny guy in blood gulch -> ~135 still pretty skinny but more muscular later. 4C hair with a grown-out buzz from basic in blood gulch becoming locs when it's long enough. *takes you by the shoulders very seriously* repeat after me, his eyes are BROWN. and the only acceptable other option is when they’re turning gray as in a body horror way, gray as in your body becoming something uncanny to you, gray as in the horribly blinding cold light of unfathomably vast stars lightyears away from anything you’ve ever known (read lazarus left the tomb btw. treat yourself). very handsome face in a boy-next-door-looks-very-sweet-until-he-opens-his-mouth kinda way. an only child or had like one older sibling he wasn’t very close to by the time he enlisted. i think of him as a bi cis guy but i enjoy trans hcs.

kai - 20 in 2552. 5’2”, ~200 lb, fat and top-heavy hourglass and broadset. a little muscular (it’s not immediately obvious) as she was always athletic and basic training helped, but she’s made more for endurance (body by “dancing 7 hours and walking home across town drunk and sleep-deprived”) than strength. thick upper-back-length black 2C hair that she sometimes dyes streaks in or ombre (usually brown highlights but she mixes it up). broad face and nose, big adorable eyebrows, life-endingly cute eyes and smile. alternates between no-makeup all-leg-hair realness, and full femme glam for funsies with 5 sets of fake eyelashes trying to take flight (at least three of them are inevitably going to be Just Fucking Gone by some point in the party). pansexual ipsogender intersex gal (tbh the original reason i headcanoned her having mosaic turner’s is the colorblindess [x-linked recessive traits are rarely gonna show up if you have 2 X chromsomes vs having one, so i was like, “hey her retinas could be some of her XO tissues, and with mosaicism, fertility isn’t uncommon, so it doesn’t contradict her having had abortions”] and then years later i thought about it harder and was like wait she has achromatopsia and that’s autosomal. biology nerd fail moment. but anyways she’s intersex.)

tex - her body is modelled after allison aged 33 (when she died), but bigger stronger faster idealized-by-memory-and-wanting-her-to-be-invincible-to-the-point-of-looking-more-like-she’s-on-gear-and-photoshop-than-a-natural-body. 6’2”, body looks like ~220 lb of muscle and low-body-fat (but not like, cut for bodybuilding competition level of low-body-fat), but being made largely metal, she is heavier. whereas allison was like 5’9”, 170 lb, serious-crossfit-competitor kind of build but nowhere near as built as tex. face looks very similar to allison but just… weirdly airbrushed look and looks… sharper. harsher features. more intimidating. but she’s got this crooked smile that looks kinda like a smug smirk but also like she’s not laughing at you exactly, she’s just vibing with you and the inherent comedy of the absurdity of life. but when she’s Not Smiling it's the kind of expression you start backing away from expeditiously. i think of her having shoulder-length hair she wears in a ponytail but i do love short-hair tex dearly. gnc butch gay/bi (mostly attracted to women, uses both labels) cis woman who uses any pronouns.

wash - around 31? in 2552 (would put him being recruited to pfl at about 26 which feels right for being able to slide into the Goofy Innocent Rookie role but also plausibly have achieved a pretty high non-commissioned officer rank). 5’6” -155 lb, functional muscle with a build in-between lean and stocky (“otter” as a label keeps coming to mind). i don’t have a super settled facecanon but picture him as either white or mixed white and east asian. he has not changed his bleach-blonde crewcut since he was 17 and the shock of allowing himself to change it now might kill him. gay ace trans man.

carolina - 29 in 2552 (actually the youngest among the high-ranking freelancers. she would kill (jk) to protect this secret). she did the whole 4 year military academy to commissioned officer training thing and had a couple years of normal UNSC service before unfortunately getting wrapped up in her dad’s mad science pet project. 5’8”, ~150 lb, leanly muscular. i think of her having natural red hair she dyes bright red but i love a black-haired carolina too. we’ve seen her face. straight trans woman (transitioned as a preteen). i know, i wanted her to be in the wlw club, too. unfortunately every time i try shipping her with a woman she’s like “meh. thinking about my weird khaki man.” and i’m like oh. sorry about that affliction.

sarge - 62 (?) in 2552. 5’6”, ~200 lb, stocky and solidly muscular barrel-chested slight-beer-gut old dude. chinese-american. if you somehow catch him without his helmet he’s got wraparound reflective shades so good luck ever seeing his face (he’ll tell you it’s classified). another eternal crewcut guy but his is shorter than wash’s. bi and definitely a robofucker tbh. he is cis or trans depending on what’s funnier in any given circumstance.

grif - 24 in 2552. worked in honolulu a couple years after hs graduation until kai was old enough (17) he felt he could leave. did a year at university before realizing he’s smart enough to be admitted to cornell but not to get the scholarship he realistically needs to not be in crushing debt on graduation and also there’s not nearly enough regimentation to college life to prevent him from rotting in bed paralyzed by Problems. went through basic and stationed on the doomed outpost. that Whole Thing happened and he was reassigned to sim troopers. 5’8”, ~300 lb, fat and a little bit strong against his will from an involuntarily active job (he has valiantly resisted picking up cardiovascular conditioning. he works very hard on unfitness). he’s kinda cute in a “hasn’t washed his face in 5 days and his peachfuzz/stubble patches combo is very uneven but you caught him smiling for 2 seconds and oh no it was VERY charming” way. thick 2C dark-brown hair that’s a few inches long, wears it longer later. gay trans guy (because his little sister is named “younger sibling of the same gender” so like… also lmfao how unfortunate for kai that her name, which she did not choose, misgenders her big brother. like 😭 god it is very on the grif siblings brand of “hello so the circumstances we have been put in mean that my existence [kai]/how i have to leave you here to protect my own sanity [grif] is actively making your life much harder. i am ashamed of this, let us never communicate about it ever. i love you so much.”)

simmons - 23 in 2552. tried to do university several times and had to drop out for mental health reasons (a very polite way of putting “rapid spiral into absolute disaster every time”. it leaves room for giving him the benefit of the doubt that this was a proactive “ah i should take care of myself and this is not working for me :) #selfcare #therapy” decision. this is not benefit of the doubt that anyone who knows him would extend.). I go back and forth on whether to roll with the “suspiciously specific denial of being in a unit that was stranded and had to eat their dog to survive” thing or just say he was assigned straight to sim troopers. 5’11”, ~160 lb, wirey build and has to be standing at attention or else he holds himself so awkwardly. i pretty much go with the Standard Ginger Simmons Fanon Face but light brown hair also feels right and i think his hair should be very short. i really like when people draw his prosthetics very industrial/bare mechanical frame not trying to imitate biological form, just whatever’s functional. Red circle eye, hell yeah. bi and i used to firmly believe “this guy has to be cis because there is NO WAY he would have the hutzpah and willingness to put self-authenticity over doing what he’s Supposed To Do. we’ve seen how he deals with anxiety. he would just be white-knuckling his way through dysphoria to this day” HOWEVER i have really come around to trans simmons

donut - 19-20 in 2552. i see him taking a gap year or two to work on the farm and think about what he wants to do with his life (not productively introspecting on his deeper desires in life and what would allow him to fulfill them, god no, of course not. daydreaming unrealistically. obviously.) before enlisting. i think his upbringing was fairly happy but kinda weird and a bit insular within a small community of some Beliefs and possibly homeschooled. not like exactly Fundie Christian America as you might assume with that background; american subcultures have changed enough over 500 years that this is one of many totally unrecognizable to us. like it has some roots in Fundie Christianity and homesteading-from-a-weird-reactionary-tradfamily-can’t-trust-the-gubernment-place and some in Hippie-dippiness Spirituality, not-actually-a-cult-but-sometimes-you’ll-hear-him-say-things-he-thinks-are-normal-and-you’re-like-ummmmmmmm. (Idek how that headcanon started. i think i was just like so how DO you build a guy like donut). he’s 5’10”, ~185 lb, sturdy build, i don’t think people would consider him chubby but definitely not thin. his face and hair looks like he should be on a 1960s white america boyscouts poster but like, goofy about it. i think of him being mostly white but some latino heritage he’s curious about but was not raised connected to (hence wanting to learn spanish). acearospec and gay (he’s like…. mostly asexual and aromantic but it’s complicated. he is barely aware of being gay let alone ace or aro. he just fully makes up what he thinks sexual attraction and romance are and assigns it to random feelings/experiences). cis dude or nonbinary.

#alexa send post #rvb #rvb headcanons

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tnbc-thoughtsandheadcanons · 10 months

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The Battle for Pumpkin King #4

Here are my thoughts on the recently-released #4 issue of The Battle for Pumpkin King! As always, Spoilers under the ‘Read More’!

In this issue, the second contest between Jack Skellington and Oogie Boogie for the title of Pumpkin King officially starts, where they have to stack the tallest tower of bones. They each get to pick 3 people to help them, and Jack chooses The Wolfman, Undersea Gal, and his loyal pup, Zero! Meanwhile, Edgar advises Oogie to pick Lock, Shock, and Barrel. Jack uses the advantage of Wolfman playing fetch with Zero, who flies and stacks the next bone. Boogie uses the trio’s stacking skills to help him make a much wider pile.

A squabble comes between Jack and Oogie when Zero misses a bone and it hits the Boogie’s pile. Oogie insults Jack and the competition takes a spin. Noticing Jack’s tall tower, Edgar makes the suggestion that it would be “terrible if winds came and blew it down”, then proceeds to control the wind to knock down Jack’s pile, defeating him in the competition and earning Oogie’s (cheated) victory. They’re now tied - and it dwindles down to the last challenge to determine the new Pumpkin King.

I will make the minor comment that I’m disappointed not to see Zero drawn as a small puppy, he looks relatively same in the movie besides maybe being a little smaller? I was also hoping Jack would pick Sally on his team, but it’s nice to see the side Residents being included and helping out! I always love to see more content of them!

Also, Edgar being able to control the wind feels eerily similar to my headcanon of my own past-Pumpkin King fancharacter, who can control/manipulate the earth and wind, being a creature from the lands. This is really cool!!! Edgar is getting worse as a villain as the issues go on. I’m curious to know what else he’s capable of and what he’ll do.

Speaking of which...

If we're going by this comic, this means Oogie Boogie has known Lock, Shock, and Barrel since they were children/toddlers. And Edgar was the one who brought them to him - to use them to Oogie’s advantage in his competition to become King. This is AWFUL and TERRIBLE and I feel so bad for these children’s futures. But I’m curious to see if anything else will come between them and Oogie!

Eagerly awaiting the next (and last?) issue of the series! Oh! This issue also came with more Nightmail, which has concept art of the characters. This has the Mayor and Sally, who has a needle and thread to tie her hair in pigtails! This is so cute and unique for her design! I love it.

#the battle for pumpkin king #pumpkin king spoilers #the nightmare before christmas #nightmare before christmas #jack skellington #oogie boogie #tnbc #disney #tim burton #henry selick #sally finkelstein #spoilers #edgar the pumpkin king #lock shock and barrel

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jades-typurriter · 10 months

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Gal Pals + Your First Howl

A POV transformation thing: your closest friends are werewolves, they get you in on it, and they sit with you through the process of your first transformation! @bluebearial (the BESTIE) collaborated on this, basically just passing the draft back and forth; her writing is in purple and mine is in blue. PLEASE go check her out she's a fantastic artist and has more lovely and intimate writing like this on her blog

CW: they're gay werewolves. these girls are doing lots of petting and sniffing

Gloomy. That’s the one word that could describe this night. The sky is a deep grey. Thunder, far in the distance, still makes itself known in the form of a near-constant rumble. Despite the blanket of cloud that covers the sky, a pale glow could still be seen. Lycanthropy, as you had recently found out, doesn’t require direct moonlight to take effect. Just the presence of it is enough to make you itch. For new instincts to crop up. You wish you knew about this going in, but thankfully, your friends are a lot more experienced than you. Even better, they’re here to ride it out with you.

“I know the picture of like, breaking into a clearing in the woods, and having the moon behind you and everything when you transform for the first time is really cool,” trills Fetch, and even through the buzz of excitement and anxiety, you know where this is going. You’ve known it since English Lit. in college; it’s had a point-by-point for everything since even before then. “But not a ton of people actually get to do that! It’s like, part of the lycanthrope experience that gets sanitized and simplified a lot for wider audiences. Sooooo many movies do this bit, and the weather’s always perfect, and everything, but like… would you even wanna wander around in the woods on a normal day? Let alone a vulnerable one like this?”

“I dunno…~” lilts Plum, your other friend, from her place on the couch, “Days like this’re perfect for just, skulkin’ around in the dark. Scarin’ people. Like, rahh~” She even puts her paws up, showing off those amethyst-colored claws. As you watch her, you can’t help but wonder if this whole ‘lycanthropy’ thing has more of a mental effect than you’d first realized. As recently as this afternoon, she was pretty chipper! Happy to help with anything you’d need. But after the moon came out… She’s definitely the more laidback one now, compared to Fetch.

She always found at least some kind of fun in any situation, though a part of you wished she wouldn’t right at this moment. “Like, think about it. Remember when we first met? ‘N you found me diggin’ through your trash? You thought I was some kind’a dog. I wish I had a camera - remember the look on your face when I just started talking to you? Like…” She takes a pause, putting a paw up to her muzzle, trying her best not to laugh (and failing). Like her namesake, she is covered in a thick coat of purple. You remember that in her human form, she had purple highlights in her otherwise dark hair. You suppose the color of her fur was… somehow related to that? How does that even work? What would your fur look like? Yet another question you’d neglected to ask before, well. Y’know.

“Ohhhh my gosh, are you ever gonna leave me alone about that? I thought you were a lit-er-al wolf!!” Plum looks like she has something to say about that, but Fetch cuts her off: “I know, I know, I wasn’t wrong. You did turn out to be a huge bitch,” it says, voice saccharine and head tilting cutely to the side. Plum reaches over you to bop it with her paw, leaving you acutely aware of your position, sandwiched between your two friends. Squished, almost: both of them are much bigger than they are as humans, and they take up much more of the couch, too. You blush as her paw passes by your face—it’s bigger than your whole head. Thinking about Plum lurking out of sight, rummaging around with those powerful things… Thinking about how your own hands might be like that soon enough. You’d pipe up to ask about how soon to expect more changes, but it would be, what, the tenth time you asked? Plus, you’re not sure you want to draw attention to yourself if the partners start play-fighting. Well, maybe you would… But it’d probably be safer to wait until after your change.

But still. On one side, Fetch’s dense, cream fur coddles your arm and part of your leg, acting as a big, fluffy cushion. On the other side, Plum is really invading your personal space a bit as she tries to reach over at her partner. Being caught between a pair of - how tall are they– one, two, three… - six foot tall wolves has you squirming a bit. Partly to get comfy, and partly because… oh wow. This is really happening. Up until a few years ago, you’d figured werewolves weren’t, y’know, real? Your heart flutters. Your stomach tightens a bit, causing you to shudder - anything to somehow vent these feelings. You clench your fists and oh my god, were your fingernails always this sharp? They dig into your palms, causing you to relax your grip. Remembering the situation at hand - or was it ‘at paw’, Plum cranes her neck a bit to look down at you. At least, you’d assume that’s what she’s doing. Her snout is just about the only thing keeping her fluffy, full mane from completely covering her face.

“Hey, hey, listen dude,” she does her best to soothe you, “We’re gonna be here for you, alright? It’ll be like, kinda weird at first. Um, maybe a little scary? I dunno. But, like, once you get over the hump, it’ll feel sooo~o good. You’re gonna feel all soft ‘n like, fluffy ‘n stuff. Like, bwbwbwbwbwb.” She demonstrates in her own weird way, putting her paws to her own cheeks and rubbing them. Her ears, a little droopier than you’d expect from a wolf, flop from side to side as she bleps her tongue out at you. You do feel a bit more relaxed admittedly… Though, there’s another thing you hadn’t thought about before.

Werewolves smell. They don’t smell bad, really, though you wonder if there’s something else making you think that. They just have… a scent, one that’s hard to describe beyond… furry, and thanks to your spot between your two friends, they were basically hotboxing you with it. Every whiff of it makes you feel just a bit more, like, relaxed and stuff. I mean, these are your friends. They’re helping you through this. It’s just what the pack does for one another.

Fetch leans down, reaching behind you to put one paw on each of your shoulders, reassuring you. Well, trying to reassure you; getting so close is giving you another waft of Wolf Girl, and as familiar and calming as it is—you wonder if maybe you already knew what the two of them smelled like, and you’re just starting to recognize your friends the way dogs do—it’s starting to make your head spin. Or maybe that’s the changes, too…

“It really, really means a lot to us that we’re the ones you wanted to help you with this, bestie. Now, someone could have been a little bit gentler about infecting you,” it snips, pointing its snout accusingly at Plum. Oh, yeah. That’s where you recognize her smell from. She all but bowled you over when you had asked the two of them to bite you, and you… still thought about her weight on you fairly often. You wish you could stop thinking about it for, like, a second so you don’t seem like a flustered, shaky nerd, but it’s harder to forget it with every breath.“But the trust is still really sweet! And like, now I get to repay you for being so understanding when I came out, yeah?” It perks up its ears, smiling down at you. You (mercifully) lose yourself in that memory for a moment instead; you see its tail whipping back and forth behind it, and realize, yeah, you’ve been friends for a long time. You’re, like, besties! It always makes you giggle when Fetch calls you that. And you do trust them! Even if they’re a bit silly, you know the two of them are looking out for you. You’re in good paws.

“Yeah! We like, tooo~tally got you, dude. It’ll be a-okay,” she reassures you. “You’re like, basically our best friend so, like, y’know….

You blink a few times, shaking your head as your hearing gets more and more muffled. Wh,what’s happening? It’s as if your ears were suddenly plugged. You can’t hear anything now. Just as quickly as it happens, it seems to stop.

“Oh, huh.”

It’s not until you hear her voice again that you calm down. Though - wow, um, that was a bit loud?? You grimace, wondering just what caused her to shout like that. It was as if her voice gained a ton more bass all of a sudden. You glare up at her, opening your mouth to scold her, but you quickly realize that… like, everything is louder. The rumbling outside, the room’s ambience, even Fetch’s tail as it slaps the couch. Plum’s paw reaches down to the top of your head, where your… ears… are…? “Ohoho~ Hey, Fetch, check this out~” Like, you could just hear the excitement in Plum’s voice as beckons her partner. A pair of tall, fuzzy triangles peaks up from beneath your hair. Speaking of, has your hair gotten longer? You can like, kinda feel it brushing your shoulders… Your thoughts begin to swim as you feel your bestie’s paw just, rest upon your head like that. You want to look up at her, but something compels you to angle to head down. She holds one of your ears between her thumb and index finger, softly rubbing it between her digits. Your ear flicks in her gentle grip, instinctually moving in a way you like, really cannot control. Like, just a bit, y’know? The same, strange feeling causes your free ear to fold down, your shoulders to slump a bit… You squirm some more as the meekest little whine slips out. You rub your nose. Either that scent is getting stronger, or like, your nose is getting more sensitive. Either way… It’s enough to make you sneeze.

“Awww!” Fetch practically whispers. “The new ears are so cuuuuute! Just go easy on ‘em, Plum, you know those things are sensitive when you first get ‘em.” It bends down, poking its snout right into the ear you’ve angled away from Plum. Its voice is so quiet that it barely moves the air, but it’s still so totally clear: “How do you like ‘em, though, bestie?” You shudder, the tingle in your ear crashing down the back of your neck, along your spine, and into your tail—into your tail?! You twist around, pulling your head away from Plum’s paw (you have to suppress another whimper at the thought of no longer being petted) and, looking down, see a fluffy sprout bunching up the bottom of your shirt. Your eyes get all big, and as you get all excited about it, you watch it start wagging basically on its own? And you can feel it and it feels like you’re dancing for joy? You yell, looking back up at the two girls to either side, and Fetch yells back at you. “Oh my gosh oh my GOSH!!!” It squeals. “I can’t believe it came in so quickly!! It’s soooooo cute oh my gosh…” It pauses, then leans down conspiratorially, its own tail wagging again, energetic and out of time with yours. “Hey. You know what’d be a real fun way to scream it all out? Since we’re celebrating?” You tilt your head, feeling your ears flop with the motion, and realize that you probably look a lot like Fetch did a minute ago.

You have a good idea of what it means. If there’s one good thing about all those werewolf movies you like to watch - you kind of know the beats to this ‘story’. …That, and, your friends finding your collection is what set this into motion in the first place. Your tail wags furiously as you put your paws together. That short, stubby thing grows inch by inch, moment by moment. Every little wag it makes, it feels softer, so much softer. You start to understand what Plum meant by those fuzzy feelings. Just the sensation of having a tail at all, let alone wagging it, fills you with a euphoria you didn’t know you yearned for - a euphoria that seems to bubble up inside you. You’ve never howled before, but you’re totally not against it.

“Scream it out…?” Plum quietly asks, a little slower on the draw than you. She perks up an ear, furrowing her brow. “What, like… Oh. Ohhhh.” And she friggin’ grins. “Oh, man. It’ll be just like when we first came out. She leans a bit, squishing you between the two of them. Plum reaches out for her pawrtner’s paw, gently taking hold of it. “Remember that~? It was like, so romantic…~ Holding paws, howling together, getting nice and close after~ And like, we started getting all grabby ‘n stuff, testing each other out, and…~ And– A-Anyway,” she catches herself, sparing you the more… intimate. details, “You ready~? One, two, three!~”

“AwooOOO~OOO~~!” Angling her head up, Plum gives it her all! It starts low and slow, but ramps up in volume until it’s all you can hear. And you feel hyped! Your euphoria reaches a fever pitch, boiling over until you just can’t keep it in anymore! Why not follow your instincts, joining your besties in their symphony?

With Plum’s voice reverberating between your ears, inside your skull, coursing through your chest like the bass of the speakers at a concert, you lift your voice as well, throwing your head back and lifting your voice to match hers, at least as best you can. It cracks and scratches more than once, but you don’t care. It still sounds beautiful to you, and it’s such a rush! You feel like you’re standing through the sunroof and blasting music on the way home from a frat party; you feel like you’re on stage and your voice is carrying through a packed arena.

Fetch claps its paws together, “yay”-ing and chanting ‘go, go, go!” before finally lifting its own snout and joining the two of you. It effortlessly, naturally harmonizes with Plum—the two of them have been running as a pack for a long time, after all, and they’ve had more practice individually than you have. Still, the sound the three of you make together makes butterflies in your stomach, and then washes them away again with liquid awe. It’s like the crowd you were singing to is cheering back, a beautiful droning of joyful voices, shouting wildly and without inhibition.

You were always so jealous of the two of them, once you’d found out. They’d been your friends for years, but when they started dating, and after Fetch realized it was otherkin, Plum turned it at its request, and well—it’s a lot harder to hide two werewolves than it is to hide one. Of course, it didn’t change anything between the three of you, other than feeling a little weird about your fascination with werewolves. Being a fan of the genre, being a furry, even, felt sorta… like stereotyping them? Fetch would use the word “appropriative”, if it wasn’t currently singing its lungs out.

Now, though, after their reassurance, and after doing a bit of digging into those “weird” feelings, you just feel like you’ve been missing out! You keep howling until your throat gets tired, until you start choking on your own drool and feeling the scratchy strain on your new vocal cords. At some point, Fetch reaches out to pat you on the head again, and notices something about your shoulders.

“Dude! No way! Your coat is coming in now, too!” You finally gulp down a breath, after what feels like holding a note for an eternity (and pretty poorly, but hey, you can already feel yourself getting better!) and reach up to feel around your neck. Your hair hasn’t just gotten longer—it’s begun to crawl its way down between your shoulder blade and along your arms!

You think back to before, the way your tail first sprouted from beneath your shirt. You’re getting the same feeling now, watching your new coat spill over your shirt’s collar. You were always pretty flat, but - your cheeks start to glow as you feel your shirt ride up, buoyed by your developing bosom. If that isn’t enough, that same fur spreads across it, only adding to its mass. A thick tuft sprouts up in your cleavage, helping it to spill over the top of your collar. And god, it feels warm. You grow aware of that as you hug around it. You squeeze it in your arms, and an exhilarating feeling rumbles throughout your body. …Or, was that rumbling coming from you? One end of your mouth curls up as you growl to yourself, prompting an amused coo from Plum.

“Hey. Nice teeth.~”

You break from your self-imposed stupor for a moment, instinctively licking your teeth. They’re sharp. Especially your canines, but the rest of your teeth have grown similarly long and jagged. You whisper something resembling a ‘thank you’, too sheepish and too caught up trying to keep yourself even halfway composed. It’s a losing battle, though. Your shirt rubs up against your chest, making every little squirm a challenge to keep yourself quiet. As your coat thickens, it shimmers in the dim light. Your thoughts are harder to grip, divided among so many unfamiliar sensations. Your ears flick and swivel with every little sound. Your tail curls and wags and bats the cushion behind you. Your nose, well on its way to snoutsville is full of unfamiliar, addictive smells. You don’t know what to do with yourself. You reach out to Fetch, grabbing its arm and clinging to her. You let out a whine, rubbing your cheek against its silky fur, hoping for a lifeline as a warm, kind of itchy, but liberating feeling spreads further down your body as it is overtaken by your developing coat.

It doesn’t help you as much as you were hoping. Like, not at all. Fetch is just sooooo comfy, and you feel Plum’s paw between your ears again, and your head starts getting like… all cloudy and stuff… She gets her claws in, short little scratches that drag further and further down through your hair, down the back of your neck—soooo so sososo sensitive right now!!---and up behind your jaw, and you whiiiiiiine and just slowly slump over across Fetch’s lap. It giggles, Plum giggles, and if you weren’t so busy squirming, you might be laughing too, from the way she’s making your head swim.

With your head in its lap like that, panting from all the stimulation, you smell it even more strongly. It smells good. It makes your face burn, it gets your blood pumping, and you follow your nose to its source without a moment’s hesitation, before looking down your snout and realizing it’s pushing into her skirt, right between her legs. You freeze, eyes darting up to its face. It’s laughing harder than it was before, so like… you didn’t make it uncomfortable? Or mad? At least? Plum gives your rear (oh god you were pointing your butt straight at her) a SLAP with her heavy paw, and both of them crack up all over again at the involuntary YELP. It at least un…unsticked the gears in your brain. You apologize profusely, finally pulling your face away from Fetch’s crotch, but it reaches its paw up to cup your snout. “Bestie, don’t even worry. Everybody gets, uh… kinda excited, on their first time. I know I did!” It pauses. “I mean, me and Plum were already dating by then, so—” The mention of dating makes your face so hot that you have to bring up your own paws—when had they even finished changing!! Omigosh!!—to cover it. “Ohhhhh… I mean, hey, I wasn’t bringing that up to say we couldn’t try stuff!! New instincts, new feelings, no judgment, right? That’s what we said!” You look up at her, half-desperate and half-embarrassed, eager to hear the reassurance. “And I mean… we could try dating too, if you wanted? Right, Plum?”

“Oh, yeah,” she readily agrees, before looking down at you, “If you’re, y’know, comfortable with it. Because…”

Your ears flop down as she leans in, her snout basically touching yours. The way she stares at you seems to demand your attention. Whatever she’s about to say, it must be important. You nearly flinch as she opens her mouth again, pre-empting what she might say next. And what does she say?

“I can be a little ruff.”

Your embarrassment like, kinda deflates a little. You almost feel annoyed that you walked into that one. You look up at Fetch again, hoping it could relate, only to be greeted with a barely controlled snicker.

“But, really.” The sound of her voice turns your attention back to her. “If you wanna give yourself a test drive, we’ve got you covered.”As she speaks, Fetch’s paw returns to your head, and, like… wow.~ Your thoughts swim and spiral anew as you let out a content, short “hwrrff.” You tilt your head towards her, savoring her touch. Those gentle, drawn-out strokes. You detect a new scent wafting up from the two of them, fanned by their tails’ steady wags. You can’t put a finger on what it means until you feel a warmth between your loins, one that only deepens the more you breathe it in. You suppose that this is one of the many, many things that you’ll learn before dawn. The night’s just getting started, after all.

#writeblr #transformation #tgtf #werewolf #furry fiction #trans author #indie author #werewolves #transgender #trans #lesbian #wlw #original writing #short story

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jxsterr · 6 months

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bro your account is literally perfect. one of the best zelink ones i’ve ever seen and i think your interpretation of them is perfect!! what’s your opinion on t4t zelink?

YOURE SO SWEET WHAT THE HELL 😭😭😭😭 thank you omg that’s the sweetest ask ive ever gotten

as for opinions?? my opinion is yes. why wouldn’t they. it’s the most delicious hc out there and it does wonders at weeding out the weird fans

i haven’t honestly thought about it much because i enjoy it in passing but i’m definitely for ftm link with his funky new zonai post transition scars bc that’s SICK and he deserves at least one scar that isn’t the worst thing ever. zelda?? honest to god with all of the trauma she’s been through and all of the disconnect within herself i’d say like a nonbinary she/her if ygm?? an occasional she/they if she feels like it?? like the pronouns are just the equivalent of cosplaying a girl bc zelda’s been jumbled up so violently from everything that’s happened to her—from everything pre calamity with her father and her powers, her lack of self identity because she wasn’t allowed to present herself how she pleased when everything rested on her shoulders, trying to find herself Post calamity and figure out what she’s meant to do or even Be now that her one true purpose had been completed, and then the whole thing of being turned into a DRAGON and back—you cannot tell me she isn’t like scrambled egg on the inside.

link feels like the kinda guy to be like “idk i had tits and now i don’t” shrug whereas zelda has this 5 paged essay on everything that lead up to her identity LMFAO

because she’s so interesting to me right. i feel like she’d just kinda leave herself alone bc she’s been through enough without anything else on top, but i feel if she was to get anything done it’d just be top surgery so she could feel more In Control of her appearance?? and that’d be it?? bc dresses with boobs would have her a little :/ because they’re Okay she supposes but the dress Could look nicer without them, so link would sit there and help her bandage them down to see how she’d feel about it (also because he has an ungodly supply of bandages) and then watching something Click inside of her and who better to do such a task than purah???

(link stresses about it for the next 3-5 business days)

cuz i’m still big on zelda wearing a lot more neutral clothing purely bc we saw that her preferred way of dressing was her travel clothes right, and she’s always seemed more of a trousers gal than anything, so i can’t get into the idea of her purely wearing dresses post calam and totk like some people have bc every dress she’s worn. right. has had an air of Ambiguity around it. i think especially her prayer dress and zonai dress but i think that’s because of the total absence of straps or sleeves to them, so i feel like she’d wear dresses like that just for comfort but for any others?? boobs gotta go im sorry it’s just how it is

i’m also a huge fan of link being the more like. Seasoned of the two about transitioning and whatnot because obviously he would’ve had a lot more room to explore this sort of thing (esp with how little she could do w rhoam lord have mercy). so every question she’d have she’d go running to him for once instead of the books and Then him

“pardon me if i’m being intrusive, but was the surgery.. painful?”

“nah. not too bad. purah numbed me”

“you let.. purah..????”

she’d be stood in front of a mirror in their house and squinting at her own reflection, asking, “something feels wrong. i can’t tell what it is, but something feels misplaced on me.” and link peers over to have a look and he’s absolutely mystified because she’s literally gorgeous there isn’t a damn thing wrong with her—and then she starts focusing on her chest, looking at it from the side, squishing it down with scrutinising eyes to see if they’d look better flat and ah. it makes sense now. so, as i said earlier, he helps her bind, makes sure it isn’t too tight and always keeps an eye on how long she’s been wearing it (she is horribly forgetful after all), lets her comb through his ridiculously extensive wardrobe to see what pieces fit where and how to figure out how she wants her clothes to fit, then taking her down to sayge to retailor some old clothes he doesn’t mind her having once they figure it out, helping her figure out the terms and pronouns she’s comfortable with, just the most useful and best supporter you could ever ask for in the beginning of your transition.

I REALISE IVE RAMBLED OOPS but hey maybe when i get through the ridiculous backlog of fics i have i’ll do a little oneshot about this cuz it’s CUTE and so full of zelink potential

tldr. zelda’s this fuckin. she/they ass nb with a complex relationship with gender and her presentation and then link is just. a Guy. in the least straight way possible. he’s simple

i appreciate u sm for making me think about this more……: my little blorbos…

#jez asks #you wouldve thought me being nonbinary myself #that i wouldve thought more about this huh #zelink #legend of zelda #loz link #loz zelda #tears of the kingdom #zelda and link #princess zelda #link #zelda tears of the kingdom #zelda x link #t4t zelink #headcanon

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the-canary · 1 year

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high ground [vash the stampede] .08.

Summary: Snippets of the little moments in between the chaos of traveling with one Humanoid Typhoon. [Vash/Reader]

prompt: procession.

A/N: Practice for the larger series I have in mind and practice on how to write Vash’s character, so this will be on the short end. more on the mc’s background mini-arc.

It starts with a letter. Vash will never understand how the members of the Roessler Mailing Company always managed to find their intended delivery target, but having seen the work she picked up from time to time he understood that they were persistent above all else. He watched from the other end of the diner talk as she talked to the brown-haired man, thanking him before taking the letter and opening it.

She frowns, something he isn’t used to seeing, as her eyes scan the letter over and over again. She lets out a sigh before pocketing it and walking over to where he and Wolfwood are sitting. The Insurance girls had taken a job at a local shop to make extra money, so they wouldn’t be seeing them anytime soon. Since he has known her, she had been making deliveries on and off to the mailing company, but those up to recently had been few and far between. Blue eyes watch her and Wolfwood talking, but he doesn’t seem to catch the gist of what they are really saying.

“And what are you going to do about this?” Wolfwood remarks while dragging a huff of his smoke. She shrugs, as if she has already been defeated and there isn’t much to do about the issue.

“I have to go,” she sighs out, “I have no other choice.”

“Why do you need to go?” Vash can’t help but ask, as she turns to look at him. It sounds something between whine and something serious that she doesn't know what do say for a moment. She gives him a sardonic smile that makes her look older than she actually might be.

“This isn’t a thing I can say no to,” she pauses, as if choosing the best words to describe the situation, “It is part of my contract that I do deliveries whenever I get called on. It’s just my turn this time around.”

“Couldn’t you just ignore it?”

She laughs before answering, “Ignoring it or leaving it alone isn’t something I can do. They’ll just find me again eventually.”

She stays quiet after that, which Vash has come to understand to mean that she will no longer be speaking about the topic at hand. Wolfwood shares a look with him, but they don’t say anything either and the rest of the night is spent drinking and playing cards with the local townsfolk. She does the same as well, but leaves the bar earlier than either him or Wolfwood do. It isn’t until much later when they are finally heading back on their own that Vash decides to finally ask more about the subject.

“I don’t know the exact details or much about her own situation,” Wolfwood looks up at the moons above them with a somber stare, “But the Roessler Mailing Company is known to use to sorts of couriers to get their mail around this blasted desert from mercenaries to indentured servants. They pick up orphans while they’re young and train them, so they are so indebted to them that they spend the rest of their lives paying for it. Some die while carrying out deliveries and others would rather not live that kind of life anymore, so they disappear…but they’re always found somehow and they have to pay twice the price for doing all that work.”

Vash can’t help but stop walking and frown as Wolfwood turns to look at him: “Like I said, I don’t know her own situation, but I am sure she’s got it figured out. She’s a smart gal.”

“I know, but still…” Vash drifts off, remembering the early days of their friendship and how she moved in and out of his life due to making so many deliveries.

She would make a complaint here and there about having to always meet him and it cost her and though it never seemed to bother her, Vash couldn’t help but wonder if any of that cost her most of her life. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was all that she has known all her life -- following someone’s line and order so that she could live another day.

In the morning, she’ll give them her goodbye for now and it will take Vash a long time to ask her the questions bubbling up from the night before.

#Vash the Stampede #vash x y/n #vash x reader #vash x you #Trigun #trigun fanfiction #series: high ground #fabiola trying to write

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tea-cat-arts · 1 year

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For today’s “I can’t sleep so I’m gonna rant about fiction”

So basically, here’s why I think that is:

Up until HoD, every Herrscher had been a previously human character we either knew directly from the main story or a character that is attached to someone who is a part of the main story. This created a sort of push and pull where the world was being affected on one front, but our mcs were being affected on entirely other one. Sure, Anna was destroying a city, but that matters a whole lot less than the parallel between the Anna/Crow romance and Kiamei and wondering if our girls are doomed in the same way. Honkai’s strongest writing has always been in its character dramas and relationships, so I think this format worked perfectly.

HoD departed from this by having no personal attachment to our main girls. It honestly seemed more like a vessel to repeat the plot points and themes of the story up until that point back to the audience. It didn’t even know how to hurt the gals personally, each attempt at throwing them into despair was met with a quick “no, you’re wrong. Stfu.” HoC is really more of a plot device than anything. It does what it needs to in order to make the plot happen, but that’s about it. None of the flame chasers seem to have much emotional investment in who the Herrscher is, just in stoping the damage it’s doing.

Anyways, here’s my “off the top of my head, written in two minutes” pitches for how I would’ve handled these Herrscher:

I basically would’ve combined Everlasting Flames with Thus Spoke Apocalypse. I think it would’ve been interesting of HoD was a direct product of Otto’s experiments and was using one of the soulium bodies as the base host. It’s rather outdated reads on the girls could be a reflection of his lack of understanding of them and how they’ve grown. I think this would also create a more gradual transition between the arcs. Have HoD come from the beginnings of Otto reaching/communicating with the Honkai gods. The experiment goes out of control and Otto is actually forced to reach out to his enemies to solve the problem. As he works with them, he sees how they’ve grown and determines they’re ready for the next stage of his plan. Otto being the cause of the major problem could also be his public reasoning for retiring. Side note, but in this version of events, I’d have Kiana only partially become HoF and not have her gain full control of the form until fighting Otto.

I think my pitch for HoC involves less canon changing? Anyways, I’d have HoC be the direct product of Mei’s desperation. I’d introduce the core back when she joined World Serpent by having Kevin directly give it to her and have Mei use it to take back the HoT gem from Kiana. I think this would also put Mei in a greater debt to WS since I’m this scenario, they actually did give her the tools she needed instead of just showing her how to get the tools herself. I’d have the core lay dormant for a couple chapters, slowly gaining more and more power as Mei confronts more Herrschers and gets more desperate. I’d still have it awaken at the same time as it did in canon, but this time, it’s personality would be a corruption of Mei’s ideals that came as a side affect of being with WS. HoC puts the flame chasers into their ideal lives without their consent as a more extremely version of what Mei did to Kiana by deciding what’s best for them even as they scream “I don’t want this.” An added bonus of this would be that by defeating the Herrscher, Elysia would be visually defeating that part of Mei. I think it could be a nice visual representation of how Elysia calmed Mei down and helped get rid of her impatience and desperation.

Anyways, this has been my TED talk. It’s 5am, goodnight/good morning

#honkai impact #honkai rambling #once again I have no idea if I’m making sense #but here we are #Everlasting Flames was the worst arc in Honkai. if this is the hill I die on then so be it

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cdyssey · 1 year

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Zipper

Summary: Frankly, Barbara Howard has never had so much trouble with a damn zipper before.

A/N: Hi, @athenaseden! I'm so glad that you were one of my giftees for @abbottgiftexchange! Thank you so much for being such a positive light in the fandom with your great edits, your kindness, and your passion for anything and everything Work Wives! Hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link

—

“Hey, Barb,” Melissa’s voice floats outwards from the en-suite bathroom in their shared hotel room. “Can ya help a gal out a little here?”

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” she idly responds, not really paying much attention. She’s been stretched out on her bed, ankles primly crossed, for sometime now, just watching the Food Network, passively admiring the way that Alex Guarneschelli moves through a gleaming kitchen.

(Mm! That woman sure knows how to work a whisk.)

Melissa, meanwhile, has been in the bathroom for the past half-hour or so, getting ready to go down to the hotel bar and catch a televised poker championship with a couple of teachers they had met at the conference earlier today.

“Fun dudes, but probably not. Nah,” Melissa had said of them, shrugging in an almost casual manner when Barbara had carefully asked if she planned to stay out for the night. They had been in the hotel elevator together, ascending to the correct floor, their shoulders just barely brushing, the delicate skin of their forearms, and the question had electrified the thinnest space between them.

She had shuddered inadvertently and dubiously blamed the cold.

Barbara always discusses sex in euphemisms, treats it like it’s something too dirty to ever articulate with her mother tongue, but Melissa, perpetually a good sport, easily plays along.

Often teasing Barbara.

Sometimes even openly mocking her.

But, for all of her snarky witticisms, she indulges her nonetheless. They speak about sex in the same way mischievous kids come up with creative alternatives for swear words to use when they’re around their parents.

(In their heart of hearts, they both know what they’re poorly disguising anyway.)

“Eh, they’re a little too goody two shoes for my tastes if y’know what I mean,” she had continued, chuckling. “I like my men the same way that I like my beer.”

“And how is that?” Barbara had only smiled, all balanced again, anchored and blissfully moored, relaxing at the implicit confirmation that Melissa would return to her well before midnight, that there would be no tomfoolery behind closed doors, and that there would be Melissa, not even five feet apart from her in another bed, stretched on her side, the thin blanket outlining the hourglass silhouette of her body.

Barbara had liked that incredible sight when she had woken up this morning.

Very much.

(Perhaps entirely too much.)

(She had stared, in reverent awe, far longer than propriety would allow, until Melissa stirred herself and finally turned to face her, the crow’s feet just edging her eyes crinkled in a laughing hello. )

“Tall, robust, and just a little bit dirty,” Melissa smirked coyly, waggling an expertly arched brow.

And Barbara had immediately elbowed her in faux-outrage because that was just what she always did whenever Melissa made a vaguely crass joke.

“Girlfriend!”

And Melissa had pouted in faux-indignation because that was just how she always responded when Barbara was faux-offended.

“What? I’m just tellin’ it like it is.

And all was right with Barbara Howard’s world so long as this careful pattern that she and her partner have threaded together for over twenty-something years was so perfectly maintained. She leaned into her friend then and laughed freely.

She was comfortable again.

She was secure.

It’s been a lovely trip all around—the both of them have gotten tons of good tips about integrating tech into the classroom—and, well, it’s been nice for a slew of other reasons too, most of them having to do with Barbara’s semi-recent divorce and what shortly followed afterwards: Melissa insisting that they do fun things together over the summer break.

And she was a uniquely stubborn woman, the second grade teacher.

She wouldn’t take no for an answer.

And so, in the last month alone, they’ve gone to the movies and shopped ‘til they’ve dropped and taken art classes at the local civic center. They’ve visited museums and thrift stores and cozy cafés that no one else but them and Philly’s hipster population seem to know about. On one particularly memorable occasion, they picnicked in Fairmount Park, spreading their blanket near a bed of honeyed daffodils, and Barbara read aloud from a collection of John Donne poems as Melissa spread jam on their sandwiches.

The kindergarten teacher is well-aware that most, if not all, of this has been for her benefit—that by fun, her red-haired companion is openly caring for her, making sure that she gets out of her achingly empty house, redeeming her from the prison of all her thousands of collected hurts.

Thirty-seven years had been a long time to be married, especially when the last five of them had consisted of both herself and Gerald politely ignoring the fact that they had run out of things to talk about anymore besides the basics: they loved God, they loved their girls, and they were mutually obsessed with their respective jobs.

They both thought that the other worked too much.

And in the end, they had argued about that fact all the time, even though it was not the crux of the problem but rather just another side-effect of it—the excuse they could readily latch onto when facing the truth was unbearable.

Gerald was always so gentle after a fight, though, apologizing profusely for all the things he did and didn’t do. And Barbara was wracked with Christian guilt, that mighty scourge, wondering many questions, though two most of all.

Where had it all gone wrong between them?

And why was the place she felt most at home in a school, in a certain classroom, at a special round table that was reserved for only two?

Before she could satisfy either query, though, she and Gerald had amicably divorced nearly a year ago to the day, and she had set all forms of introspection about herself and her failed marriage and her home away from home in the teacher's lounge aside, incapable of performing such tender examinations on still open wounds.

Her ex-husband still calls her sometimes, and they talk enthusiastically about the girls, what Taylor is up to at her job, how they think that Gina’s girlfriend might finally propose to her this year. And occasionally, when nostalgia or wine hits them just right, they reminisce about the thousands of good times they assuredly had too, even though neither of them have any inclination to return to the start.

Barbara loves him even still. He will always be family to her. He blessed her with their two beautiful daughters. They were wonderful partners for nearly four decades.

She is not in love with him anymore, though, and that is the crucial—sometimes still sad—difference.

Melissa has understood this involved dichotomy, far better than most, and she has offered her shoulder to lean on every time Barbara has nearly asked. She doesn’t ever request Melissa’s help herself, of course, her pride always balking at the terrifying idea of being so vulnerable before another, but her friend has always known when she has needed it.

When she has wanted it.

Ached for it even.

Yearned.

And so, here they are in a shared hotel room at a pedagogical conference in Manhattan that neither of them had really been able to afford to attend, but Melissa had known a guy who knows a guy who got them discounted passes. The younger woman had told her that this was just another fun thing too, a chance to discover some new ideas to bring to their classrooms… but Barbara knows—and is deeply appreciative of the fact—that this is yet another way that she is being so powerfully loved by Melissa Schemmenti.

“Okay, coming out,” she calls from the bathroom. “Don’t laugh, okay?”

“Never,” Barbara hums, finally turning away from the TV.

She assumes that she’s just helping with a necklace or taking the rollers out of her friend’s hair, nothing about their previous exchange exactly preparing her for the moment when the barely cracked bathroom door slowly opens, and there—in the triangle of light fanning across the carpet, stumbling a little, one of her black stilettos catching on her other ankle—is Melissa in a sophisticated cocktail dress, black and silky, the neckline plunging in low places.

Her vivid hair spirals over her bare shoulders in soft, elegant curls, and the reflective fabric of the dress rides over the outline of her curving hips with care, precision, and an unmistakable stroke of sensuality.

Barbara Howard, her mouth fallen open in a perfect, comedic o, is utterly speechless.

Incoherent and overwhelmed at the sight of her.

She barely remembers her own name, much less how to capably speak.

“Well?” Melissa asks, at once impatient and self-conscious, her cheeks rather rosy with blush. She shifts her weight from heel to heel. “You gonna sit like a log, or are you gonna come zip me up?”

“Zip… you… up?” She echoes dumbly, every syllable punctuated by a rather unnecessary pause. There is something caught in the pillar of her throat—perhaps dust, perhaps her beating heart—constricting her ability to breathe.

“Yeah.” Melissa suddenly turns, revealing a long vee of creamy skin trailing down the length of her back, a hint of her black bra visible, a clasp that just seems to be barely hanging on. The vertex of this sliver, of this little slice of Heaven, ends just above Melissa’s lower back.

Barbara swallows indelicately, unable to pry her eyes away from this remarkably inappropriate place.

“Can’t reach back there,” the other teacher goes on, seemingly oblivious to the chemical reaction denaturing Barbara’s insides, “and the zipper hole’s too small for that wire hanger trick.”

“Oh,” she can only force herself to say. “I see.”

And so, with mechanical movements, all of her limbs alien to her and awkward in proportion to her body, she peels herself off of her hotel bed and shuffles across the soft carpet like a sailor drawn by siren song across the distance of that wine dark sea.

Temptation is assuredly Melissa.

Salvation quite possibly too.

If utter consumption follows, then at least Barbara will die in glorious rapture.

She has never seen someone so beautiful, and it is only as she finally reaches the other woman, less than three feet away from her and then mere inches, that the strangeness of the situation suddenly dawns on her.

Melissa doesn’t wear elegant dresses and Old Hollywood ringlets to bars. She wears leather jackets and black jeans and lovingly scuffed boots. She throws her hair back in loose ponytails. She buys her favorite jewel-toned v-necks in bulk from Target.

The effect is charming in a rugged kind of way.

“All of this,” she croaks, her shivering fingers now poised above that zipper, beneath which the outline of a lace elastic band is just visible, “for a drink with a couple of men from Vermont?”

She doesn’t know why she says men like that, as though she has already judged them and found them wanting.

As though precisely none of them are deserving of the sight of Melissa Schemmenti dressed for the nines.

She supposes that they're all perfectly nice—good teachers, passionate about what they do.

That still doesn’t grant them access to the Holy of Holies.

“Connecticut,” Melissa corrects, with some amusement. “And no, this isn’t for them. It’s… uh, well, you know Alice? That teacher who did a really good speech on music therapy? She’s also gonna be down there. We might grab dinner later.”

Alice Liang.

Yes, Barbara certainly remembers her—a stunningly put together woman in an excellent turquoise pantsuit, who had carefully and exhaustively delineated the importance of preserving music classes in schools. In the corner of her notes—(in the big, even letters she knows makes it easier for Melissa to quickly decipher)—Barbara had scratched out that she looked a little like Michelle Pfeiffer, tilting her notebook so that her companion could see.

Yeoh, Melissa had scrawled back, silently snorting.

But yeah, she had added. She’s hot.

Barbara hadn't gone as far as saying that—(even if she did unaccountably think it)—and it immediately threw her off that Melissa did.

And then, on top of that, Melissa went up to Alice after the presentation was over, and Barbara had watched from afar as the two women talked, both animatedly gesturing with their hands, sometimes laughing at something the other had said. Around ten minutes of this, with Barbara growing antsy enough to consider going over there herself—(To interrupt? To satisfy her ungodly curiosity? To drag her friend away? She didn’t know)—they pulled out their phones and seemingly exchanged numbers before Alice turned away to talk to other attendees.

And Melissa had returned to her, looking quite pleased with herself.

“Another prospective admirer of Melissa Schemmenti?” Barbara had asked in a tone that she hoped to God sounded light. The twinkle in her friend’s eyes discomfited her for no good reason. It inexplicably annoyed her that she hadn’t been the one to tease this lovely softness out of her.

And that it’d been a virtual stranger.

A breathtaking woman at that.

“Oh, shut up,” Melissa had only laughed, ribbing her with her elbow. “I just wanted t’see if she’d send me some more of her research later. I’d love to make silly song time better for my kids.”

“Suuure,” she’d drawled, unconvinced, attempting to remain playful.

“I’m bein’ serious, Barb!” Melissa poked out her lower lip, indignant. It was less ferocious than it was adorable. “It was just shop talk.”

“Don't get your panties in a twist—I believe you!” She had laughed, she had placated, she had soothed—(both herself and the other woman)—patting her friend on the arm like she would one of her kindergarteners, convincing herself that perhaps the conversation had been purely platonic. (Perhaps she had simply imagined the moment when Alice’s hand had lingered on Melissa’s back as they parted.)

And yet, despite everything, despite all that each woman had done to deny significance of that exchange, here Melissa is now—in an unspeakably striking number—for one Ms. Alice Liang.

“I thought she was not, in fact, another member of the Melissa Schemmenti Fan Club,” Barbara teasingly accuses, even as her stomach clenches, even as something unpleasant settles at the hollow of her throat. She pinches the zipper between her long fingers and begins to pull it upwards with slow deliberation, watching, mesmerized, as the teeth close over that smooth and beautiful skin.

She could be quicker about this whole ordeal, a little voice inside of her quietly suggests.

She shushes it.

She gently tugs.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to stay out tonight,” she adds, dragging out every syllable on her tongue. She appreciates the fact that even though every other part of her body is conspiring together to shut down, her voice is somehow unshaken—low and deceptively smooth.

“Well, I lied, okay,” comes a huffed, embarrassed reply. “I won't object if a pretty woman in a blazer asks if we can go get cosmos. Sue me.”

A slight pause then as she tilts her head to look at Barbara, her chin resting on her slightly freckled shoulder. And though the swoop of her auburn hair eclipses part of her profile, Barbara can still see the crooked curve of her mouth.

That red and radiant smile.

And she briefly stops her very inefficient zippering—nearly three quarters of the way done—frozen, her knuckles resting just above Melissa’s bra line.

“I supposes that makes sense,” she rasps in a thoughtful tone, as though they are simply talking about the incidentals of the weather.

They are absolutely not.

They are openly talking about the way Melissa is very much attracted to and attractive for other women.

Of course, even though the two of them never talk about sex outright, Melissa has never shied away from being candid about her sexuality with Barbara. Indeed, when Gina had come out to her and Gerald a few years ago, it’d been Aunt Mel who had apparently been a silent confidant for her daughter even long before that, telling her of own experiences, assuring her that her parents would love her no matter what.

In that moment, Barbara had deeply appreciated the confidence that Melissa had placed in her.

And ever since then, she has occasionally wondered about that exquisite—(and somewhat conceptually remote to her)—promise of being loved no matter what.

No restrictions.

No insurmountable barriers, no carefully articulated boundaries in-between.

Love that is not circumscribed by the comfortable mantle and the heavy burden of tradition.

Love that is fully liberated.

Love that is unconditional.

“You... said of men that you prefer them like you like your beer. Would I be too”—she searches for the right word in the vast dryness of her own mouth— ”forward in understanding that you have a different palate for women…?”

“You’d understand right,” Melissa says carefully, her voice suddenly solemn and hoarse, sieved of its teasing and its mirth.

Barbara still hasn’t zipped her dress.

Frankly, she doubts she ever will.

“I like my women like I enjoy my wine.”

“And how is that?” Barbara asks the same question all over again, but she is not smiling this time. Not even close. And she is not comfortable, thoroughly unrelaxed, far from at ease with herself and the unspoken tension that vacuums up the air between them. She is teetering on a precipice—toes curled over the unguarded edge—and looking down at the seething sea, calculating her chances for survival if she unreservedly jumps. She is touching Melissa Schemmenti’s exposed skin, and she is incapable of coming up with a rational reason for why she should stop doing so.

She's always had a rational reason before.

A marriage to a good man.

A diamond encrusted cuff on her fourth finger as the material proof of this fact.

But now it's in her jewelry box of a reliquary, consigned to the past, ancient history.

And now she is unbalanced without its restrictive safety.

Horribly insecure.

Unmoored.

Knees bent in preparation for the dive all the same, a prayer of faith lacquering the tip of her tongue...

“Good,” Melissa replies huskily. “Vintage. Full-bodied, like it’s tasted its fill of the world before I've even touched it. Elegant and always there when I need it. Swirling with all sorts of complex notes, the symphony rollin’ across my teeth."

“That’s… quite a lot to ask of one woman,” Barbara tries for a joke that falls flat as soon as Melissa finally sweeps her hair back behind her ear, revealing the profound darkness of her eyes, how they are speckled with so many glittering stars.

“Oh, I think I know of someone who can cope...”

Barbara Howard doesn't need any more prompting than that—she leans forward and and captures the taste of Melissa’s lips against her own, sipping slowly and savoring, relishing, discovering, her fingertips still touching the other’s arching spine. Melissa is a practiced sommelier, and she is ever so gentle with Barbara as she expertly explores what happens when the two of them brush tongues. It is a patient and glorious sensation, a sweet buzz that lingers and radiates outwards through Barbara’s entire body.

Every atom in her shudders with holy, intoxicating delight.

She has leapt and not fallen.

She is flying.

She is kissing Melissa Schemmenti; she is being kissed; and though she has been kissed so many times in her sixty-six years of life, she has never been kissed like this before—as though she knows how to innately return the favor forward.

They eventually have to catch their breaths, even though they're loathe to break apart, all of their limbs now tangled and intertwined, Barbara's hands on Melissa's hips, Melissa's fingers curled into the collar of her shirt. She presses her head against the younger woman's own, inhaling the aroma of her, the vanilla and the honey and the smokiness of her wild perfume.

“Shit,” Melissa breathes, her cheeks flushed. “I got all dressed for nothing.”

“I can possibly help with that,” Barbara only replies, finally reaching upwards to grab a hold of that damn zipper, and at long last, undoing what she had so imperfectly done.

#work wives #melissa schemmenti #barbara howard #abbott elementary #s: abbott elementary #reginianwrites #this was so much fun to write!!

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