#when coups did it alone at the end i (-

[babyleostuff]

౨ৎ voicemails yoon jeonghan leaves you while he’s on tour - fluff (with a pinch of angst), established relationship, gn!reader (pet names used: honey, babe)

...one: i think i left my toothbrush at your place. (pause) and my charger. (pause) and the headphones i bought specifically for this trip

...two: don’t kill me honey, but they had to cut my hair. not much but still. (mumbling) don’t listen to shua i’m not bald i swear. anyway, call me when you wake up! and remember i love you no matter your hairstyle!

...three: i have so much trouble sleeping here, i don’t know why 

...four: did you eat breakfast today? you always forget about eating in the morning. oh, and i left some of those cookies you like in the cabinet next to the fridge. shit i forgot to tell you about them and i bought them like (pause) a month ago, i hope they aren't expired

...five: i called you like six times before i remembered it’s like 4 am back home (laughs) i guess i’m starting to miss you

...six: if coups did send you those messages, please ignore them. i did not push him off the stage

...seven: how was your day? did you do anything exciting? i miss your voice

...eight: it’s already saturday for you so make sure to get a lot of rest. i'll call you after the concert today if i don't end up falling asleep after. and if the kids don't take me out drinking again. i'll just trick joshua to go

...nine: it sucks sleeping alone 

...ten: i think i’m getting old babe, my knees were cracking like crazy today

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#seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen carat #svt reactions #seventeen x you #seventeen reactions #seventeen kpop #svt fluff #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan svt #jeonghan seventeen #jeonghan x you #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x y/n #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan recs #jeonghan fluff #svt jeonghan #jeonghan #seventeen reaction #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenarios

[theplumsoldier]

loverboy

summary: carmen makes a move on you while you think he's still got a girlfriend. could've gone smoother but you end up inviting him

pairing: carmy berzatto x afab!reader

word count: 4,2k

warnings: insecurities, self-doubt, small lies (carm makes you believe he lives closer to you than he does), vulgar language, mention of "setting boundaries" of a not-yet-existing-fwb-relationship, 18+ MDNI; smut, unprotected sex, semi-public grinding, oral (f&m receiving) soft!carm, idiots in love, friends to lovers!!

"You know, I don't think I've said this." He hadn't. "But I'm-I'm really—we're all really glad to have you here."

He was nodding to himself as he said it, and he hoped you didn't notice the hesitation. Carmy wasn't for a second doubtful that they were happy—he was certainly happy that you had joined the crew during the hectic weeks prior to The Bear's opening.

It was just that now, here, sitting alone with you in the back alley of the restaurant, sharing one of the bottles of expensive-as-shit Coup Beaujolais, he was getting unsure of himself. On whether he had completely misread your banter. He wasn't very good with that, flirting—never knew when someone was hitting on him and always double-checking whether he himself was, in fact, hitting on someone. Richie had said the chemistry between you guys was more dangerous than Fak recalibrating. Fucking stupid, he thought, but it made him think.

And then Carmy realized he had been flirting with you, in his own stupid fucking way which he worried you hadn't picked up on. Shit, he hadn't noticed it before Richie told him. Now that he sat there, with you, alone, he wondered if Richie had been fucking with him again.

Carmy wanted to know how you felt about him, but he didn't want to fuck up as was his specialty lately—didn't wanna make you uncomfortable, didn't wanna make anything weird.

"Yeah, uh. Thanks, chef," said you, chewing at your bottom lip to ease the tension. Carmy had a real habit of making situations awkward. "I'm glad you'll have me."

Phrasing.

Carm nodded, the persistent way he does whenever he's turning words in his head. You could almost hear the gears scraping.

"You always seem so cool—about everything. Like, even though we're jumpin' off the fuckin' walls, screaming n'shit, you'll just—you're collected. S'a real good quality, you know?"

You grinned, thinking of those exact memories, some just a couple of hours old. "Yeah, well—I'm sure it's more hectic n'the kitchen, right? Like there's, open fire, sharp knives and shit. Gotta be jumpin', like, all the time, yeah? To avoid the obstacles n'stuff."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Peter Parker-type shit."

"Yeah."

You held the plastic cup out and he poured you another one.

"Anyway, keeps me sane, you know? I think—I think at some point you made me realize that—that, you know, it's not normal to fuckin' scream all day. Like I didn't even realize I got fuckin' migraines 'til it was quiet, you feel me?"

It made you bubbly, to hear that Carmen did in fact appreciate having you be a part of the team.

You just sat there, quietly watching him. His bicep popped when he poured a slob into his own cup. You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips before taking a sip.

You sat like that, speaking mindlessly for a while, sharing experiences and goofing around. You loved this, getting to know him better, but when you suddenly found that he had sought closer to you, you felt your heart leap.

His body was so close you could feel the heat of his body radiate. It was intoxicating, more than the wine and though your subconscious reminded you it was wrong to lean into his welcoming touch, you couldn't help but forget what was right and wrong.

His crystal blue eyes caught the light from the street lamp, and you were mesmerized as he looked into your soul. You felt vulnerable but safe in his company.

Though there had been much lead-up, it seemed to come out of the blue. Carmy leaned in, and his eyes were fixated on your lips. Before your lips touched, your senses returned and you moved back against the fence.

"Yo, what the fuck are you doing?"

Fuck.

"Wait—I'm sorry! I'm sorry."

"You have a girlfriend!"

Oh.

"Wha—no, no—shit, that's not—" he stumbled back, running a hand over his dazed face, dragging the expression down with it.

Fuck—fuck! Carmen thought he must look like a fucking jagoff.

He stood with his back to you, but you could see the way his broad shoulders heaved with every.

You pushed, not appreciating the silence. "Yeah, no—her name is Claire. You've been dating her a couple months now and known her, for like, forever. That ring any bells?"

When Carmen turned around to face you, he looked defeated. He then crouched down beside you again.

"We broke up."

What?

Carmen told you how he had had an existential crisis during opening night, how he had thought he vented to Tina while stuck in the walk-in, and Claire had heard everything he had said. You could sense the sadness in his voice, but there was no regret. It spread a warm feeling in your chest, and you immediately felt a pang of guilt. When you had first met Carm, he had been with Claire and so the immediate attraction you had felt—well, you had obviously tried to suppress that.

"—I guess I just... I realized I can't both manage a—a restaurant and a relationship. I—I don't know, it don't come natural to me."

Your brows were furrowed, mixed feeling prickling at your skin. "So... why'd you try to kiss me just now?"

Again, he looked despondent.

"I—fuck, I don't know, I've—I guess I've just been feeling this for a while now, with—with you and I dunno. Richie's been getting in my head and I had a stupid thought and figured fuck it, you know?"

It wasn't a question but he was looking for an answer on your expression. Carmen feared you had stopped him from kissing you, not because you thought he had a girlfriend, but because you didn't want to kiss him.

Carmy watched as you looked thoughtfully at the ground, his hands fidgeting as you did the same.

Fuck.

It's over, he thought to himself.

Battling the voices in your head telling you not to, you said: "You know, it's not that the thought of kissing you, like, disgusts me."

His head tilted upward, hope in his sorry eyes.

"No?" he quizzed sheepishly.

"No," you chuckled. "I mean, I've thought about it before."

Carm lit up. "Ye—yeah?"

"Yeah," nodded you, wetting your lips as you recalled your fantasies. "It'd probably be stupid though, right?"

"So stupid," he agreed, nodding vigorously as if trying to shake the thought. It would be fucking stupid. He knew it. But it didn't deter him. Carm wanted to take the chance. He shouldn't, after all, he broke it off with Claire because he "wasn't ready". Why would he be ready now? "Still want to, though."

So badly. It felt more like an urge; a need rather than a want.

"So do it," you finally tested.

If you didn't, you were sure you'd back out, run into the kitchen with your tail between your legs. But you would regret that, you knew it. You tried to convince yourself you shouldn't back away. You wanted this—had for a while. Carm was the one who should second-guess himself, not you. He had ended a relationship because he couldn't dedicate himself and now he wanted to give it another shot. With you. It made you desperate, knowing he wanted you like you wanted him. Still, you worried he would kiss you and regret it immediately, confirmed in his suspicions—he didn't have time for romance. Keep your eye on the price.

"Fuck it," breathed he, putting aside an internal battle and leaned closer, knocking aside the bottle of wine as he pressed his hungry lips to you.

Your lips felt plump against his, chewed with anticipation and soft with spit. You tasted like a perfect dessert.

Lost in the growing heat, you cradled his face, swiping your warm tongue over his needy lips and Carmen did not hesitate to grant you entrance. A desperate although soft whine escaped him and you swallowed it down, living for the way he desired you.

Without interrupting the dance your tongues twirled, Carmen's large palm grasped your hip and pulled you into his lap. Automatically you ground down on him and moaned at the sensation of what you did to him.

You'd thought about how he would feel against you. From behind the bar, you always had a perfect view of his station and often got distracted by the way he moved—the way his mouth curled when he would scream commands, the way his arms would flex as he worked. It was a surprise nobody had filed a complaint against you. On more than one occasion you had mixed the wrong drink or spilled liquor because you just couldn't keep your eyes off of him. It was unprofessional, but he was mesmerizing like a starry sky; the longer you looked, the deeper you fell into the abyss.

Carmen mumbled a curse under his breath as he broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he ground up into your clothes sex.

"Do—doesn't feel so stupid, huh?"

You grinned and shook your head lightly, pressing your forehead against his.

"If we're gonna fuck we should probably talk about it," you said blatantly. "Set some ground rules."

Carmen was caught off guard for a second. He knew what he wanted but when you said it so casually it made something twitch in him.

His eyes were attached to your lips. They looked so delicious, kissed rough and he pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb before he even registered it.

"Probably," he breathed even though he wasn't quite sure what your words actually meant. He was quite literally thinking with his cock.

Carmen clashed his insatiable lips to yours again, but the second he did so, the back door to The Bear clicked open and Marcus appeared, garbage bags in hand. By the time you looked up at him, you had clumsily shuffled off of Carmen, sitting awkwardly with your legs to your chest. You weren't sure what he'd seen nor what he made of it.

"Hey," he hummed, moving to sling the plastic bags into the container.

"Sup, bro," acknowledged Carm, putting his hands on his hips, suddenly standing up, playing it cool.

"Imma call it a night," Marcus said. "See y'all tomorrow."

"Yeah, uh—good job t'day."

Marcus disappeared and Carmen looked back down at you, holding out a hand to help you to your feet. The interruption had broken the spell.

"Can I walk you home?" he offered. It made more sense to him, taking you home. He wasn't about to violate health code on the kitchen floor of his own restaurant.

"You live close to Maygrey?"

No.

"Yeah."

The walk might do him some good, he figured. Perhaps the chivalrous gesture would help him get lucky tonight, and even if you decided you were not about to fool around with him, he could at least say he had done a good deed today.

Carm hadn't realized you made a twenty-minute walk every night, and although he often did the same, it bothered him a great deal. He hadn't had any uncomfortable encounters himself, but he knew Sugar had. One time when she had been late to dinner at his place because of some creep bothering her on the street, and he had asked her why she hadn't called him (he would have picked her up), she told him it was not a first nor was it a last. It angered him, knowing it was not unusual for a woman to feel afraid when walking alone.

Carmen recalled your mention of ground rules, but you didn't once embark on the topic. Instead of talking about sex, you joked as if you were friends and nothing more. It made him wonder if you regretted kissing him.

Of course you invited him up. How could you not?

Carm looked dubious suddenly and you raised a brow, giving him a soft smile.

"I won't be mad if you turn me down now. No hard feelings."

He realized you were just a pair of self-doubting idiots—none of you wanting to pressure the other into something you might regret. And Carmen knew he might just do that—not because he was unsure whether he wanted this with you (he hadn't wanted something this much in a long time), no—he feared he would find himself in the same emotional clusterfuck he had with Claire.

Something about you made him want to throw caution to the wind and become the loverboy he so pathetically wanted to be for you.

How could he ever turn you down? A simple kiss in a back alley had dragged him in too deep.

You stood atop the staircase and watched curiously as Carmen closed the space. His hand cradled your face and he planted a soft kiss on your lips, not as vigorous a kiss as earlier that night, but just as hungry, just as passionate.

He then gave you a reassuring look and you knew you had it bad cause you could've sworn you fell in love with him just then.

Grabbing his hand you dragged him along with you, eagerly pulling him up the steps to your apartment, not wasting a goddamn second in connecting your lips again.

Carm chuckled against your lips as you pushed him into the door, closing it with him as if locking you away from the outside world. It was just the two of you.

Carmen was too far away to realize you had undone his belt until the familiar clinking sounded. He was so fucking hard by now, aroused by your eagerness. It was almost mortifying.

He composed himself. "Where's the bedroom?"

You gave him a look. "It's a one-room apartment, Carm."

For the first time, he looked around and got the message. The kitchen was awkwardly lodged into a small corner of the living room and the living room was also the bedroom. There was a door three feet ahead but he was unsure whether it was a closet or a bathroom.

"So when I fuck you on the couch I'll also be fucking you in the dining room?"

You looped your arms around his front from behind, pointing to the corner of the room. "Yeah, n'the trashcan over there's the bathroom."

He spun around, placing his large hands on your hips to keep you close. "Cozy."

There was a glimmering to his eyes, and his contagious charm infected you with an enticing smirk. You leaned in, cradling your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.

"So you gonna fuck me Carmy? Or are ya just all talk?" teased you, planting wet kisses against his throat, sucking the place below his ear. That's the spot.

In a flash, he hooked your legs around his waist and you would've been embarrassed by the stupid fucking giggle escaping you if a low moan hadn't interrupted you. His restrained cock felt even bigger now, pressing up into your clothed crotch.

You could hardly wait to see his weeping head.

Carmen straddled you on the couch, breaking your lips apart to shift his focus. Peppering kisses down your neck, your chest heaved with a shaky breath, whining for him. You wondered if he would flip you over and fuck you roughly if you asked nicely.

Another time you told yourself. Tonight, you were too ecstatic as he worshipped your body like the prettiest fucking tenderloin he'd ever seen. The thought made you smile into your arm, gasping as his hot breath swept over your belly.

"So fuckin' beautiful," he murmured against your skin, tongue poking out to taste the flesh.

Writhing beneath him, you tugged at his curls, and he swore he was about to bust right there, with your glossy and dazed eyes blinking down at him. Fuck, Carm wanted to hear you beg for him.

"What is it, baby girl?" he taunted, looking curiously at you while he peppered kisses across the skin he exposed by lifting up your shirt.

When you ground up your hips to show him where you wanted him, he kept you pressed against the cushion. You cried out.

"Carmy!" you mewled, helplessly thrashing.

After removing your shirt, he praised your patience: "you're so good for me," he said and unbuttoned your jeans. "Tell me what you want, sweet girl."

You threw your head back into a pillow with a thud, wanting to both strangle and fuck him (which you had wanted many times already since you started bartending at The Bear) as he pressed teasing, open-mouthed kisses by the seams of your panty line.

"Just—mpff! Fuck me already, Carm," you whined.

His face tilted up and you wanted to slap the smirk right off of his sly face. "In a minute, baby."

As he moved back a little, you thought he was finally going to give you what you wanted, but when you arched your back with need he used your movements to flip you onto your stomach. He roughly placed you as he pleased, propping you on your knees, and slid in under you.

"Just a quick taste, baby," he drawled.

Realizing he was gonna eat you out, you melted completely, seated perfectly on his face as was his wish. You barely managed to get comfortable before he hooked a finger through the leg of your underwear, the cold of his ring making you shiver and he dug in like a man starved.

A sound bordering on a thirsty moan and a dry cry escaped you. Carmen looped his arms around your thighs. His tongue explored the nooks of your lips, lapping slick from your folds and into your pussy.

A string of curses left your lips as he relished your juices, groaning into your cunt. He couldn't help but relieve some of the pressure on his impossibly hard cock by palming himself through his jeans.

He had lost himself for a moment there and when he looked up, he became doe-eyed with adoration. You had removed your bra.

His hand left his cock and slid up your curves, palming your breast instead and the other went to deftly work your clit. He elicited a muffled shriek from you, obviously surprised by the sudden added sensation to the delicate bud.

"Carmy," you panted, grinding your hips against his mouth, all of it seeming both too much and not enough. He was going to ruin you and you would let him. "Fu—fuck! M'gonna come, Carm."

Your confession merely made him more eager, more hungry and he concentrated on bringing you closer, encouraging each wave of your hips with a low moan. Carmen let you fuck his face, rolling and grinding on him to persuade your release closer. You grabbed at his curls to steady yourself as it came in euphoric waves, moaning, crying, whimpering, and grinning as he lapped your cum, savoring every last drop. It quickly became too much though, and as his nose tickled your sensitive clit, you fell apart, tilting over and crashing above him.

"Ho—holy fuck," you panted and he stood up from the couch, ridding himself of his clothes until there was nothing but a gold chain gleaming at his chest.

Still recovering from your orgasm, you gaped at his size. The head was red and strained, pre-cum beading the slit making it look like it was crying. The shaft was long with protruding veins drawing purple along the length and he was thick, too thick to fit in the circle created when you connect the tip of your index with that of your thumb.

He was perfect.

Carmen looked a bit flustered from your shameless gawking but you couldn't help it. "You're beautiful, Carm."

He grinned sheepishly down at you, grasping your legs, pulling you to the edge of the couch, resting your calves on his shoulders.

"You are," he insisted, pressing his lips to yours in a feverishly soft kiss as he aligned his head with your folds.

Gasping, you took a second to relax around his head, knowing it would sting painfully if you didn't. You wouldn't let anything ruin this moment. Not with his eyes gazing so intensely down at you; not with saliva connecting your mouths with a string, not with him before you like this, looking like he was carved by fucking Donatello, nothing hiding an inch of his tantalizingly soft skin bar the gold chain dangling from his neck.

You instinctively edged closer, putting a hand on his shoulder to guide him into you. He eased into you as he kissed you hungrily—insatiable, always needing more of your taste.

Carm held his breath as he bottomed out, finally exhaling a shaky breath. He couldn't believe how good you felt around him, hugging—no squeezing the life out of his cock as you desperately clawed on his back, feeling every cleft and hill, moaning into his mouth. He hoped your nails would leave marks on his skin.

With your forehead pressed against his, you looked down with hooded eyes and watch as he slid in, devastatingly slow, inch by inch. Carm followed your gaze.

"God, look how good you're takin' me, baby. Doin' so well f'me—doin' so good," he groaned, head digging into your neck, licking, sucking, biting.

He commenced a thrusting-grinding pace, reaching every crevice inside you, tickling all the right places. You cried out, a mixture of pain and pleasure so delicious as he poked and prodded places untouched. He felt unreal.

Soon Carmen drilled into you like a madman, steadying himself against your hips, rutting into you at a bruising pace. You'd feel him long after he was gone.

You held him close by his neck, securing him by threading your fingers through that damn sexy gold chain and the locks of his hair. His brows were furrowed, concentration and bliss evident in his expression.

You begged him to go faster, harder—before you knew it he granted your wish and his hand had returned to your poor clit, and you grasped whatever you could, the armrest, cushions, him.

You chanted his name, exchanging your vocabulary for his name so that he was all you knew. Carm fucked you through your orgasm, chasing his own as you cried his name. The combination of your moans, your begging, and the vulgar sounds of your skin slapping—it made him fucking delirious.

His bicep flexed delectably as he put all his weight on his right arm, making a considerate pause for a sweet but overwhelmingly intense kiss, only to thrust impossibly deeper.

Feeling his consistent pace become erratic, you begged him. "Please, please, Carm—fill me up."

You could feel your frantic pleas going straight to his cock as he twitched inside you, groaning—but fuck it sounded like a frail whimper.

The furrow between his brows deepened, a red blush painting his face and chest.

"You're fuckin' unreal," he manages, shaking his head.

Carmy's pace became sloppier and more desperate, cursing into your mouth as he stuttered, a strangled moan signaling his high.

He filled you up, squirting white ropes of velvety cum into you. You felt his seed trickle out as if there was not enough room for his generous load. Then he collapsed beside you.

You lay still for a minute or so, chests heaving in unison as you came back down to Earth.

"Fuck," he said after some time, pronouncing the cuss as if he had just learned the word.

You chuckled, agreeing. "Yeah."

"Shit, lemme get ya somethin' for the—"

"No, no—don't worry," you stopped him, already getting up before he could do much. He watched you go, admiring your naked body. You reached between your legs, feeling his cum trickle down your thighs. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

Carmy laughed when he realized what was going on, a sort of childish grin he couldn't hold back from rumbling in his chest. He hadn't felt this comfortable in a long time.

You disappeared out of sight. He heard water running splash and he figured you were cleaning yourself. Carmen wondered if he would get to fill you up again—preferably sometime soon.

You returned with a damp washcloth, your feet padding softly against the floor as you approached him. Carm couldn't help but smile endearingly as he went to move to free up space for you, but you placed a soft hand on his thigh as if telling him to lie still instead.

"Oh—" he began when he noticed the washcloth, but to his surprise you wrapped your lips around his cock, earning a strangled moan from him. Your warm tongue licked him clean and you hollowed your cheeks around him as if vacuuming his mess.

The pleasure turned into a ticklish feeling and he felt like grinning and kicking his feet suddenly. You looked up through your lashes, and he felt as if his eyes had remolded into heart shapes.

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you with such tooth-rotting affection it made him wonder if he loved you. In this situation, it felt natural to say to you—it felt easy and welcome, right on the tip of his tongue.

You offered him an enchanting smile and took his large hand to your mouth, kissing his knuckles, then began cleaning his cock with the washcloth.

Carmen's head dropped back at your touch and he exhaled deeply.

A smile danced across his face and he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand; the one you had kissed.

What am I going to do with you?

#theplumsoldier #carmy x reader #carmy the bear #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #the bear carmy #the bear #jeremy allen white #the bear fx

[dusty-daydreams]

I saw someone suggest the idea that the Ushers all represent a deadly sin - here is which I think they are and why

Prospero - Lust

Camille - wrath

Leo - gluttony

Vic - sloth

Tamerlane - pride

Fred - envy

The Twins (Roderick and Madeline) - greed

Prospero is Lust, not only because of his hedonism but his unabashed Lust for power - he is filming his anonymous orgy so he can blackmail powerful people and dies in the midst of his orgy - but I could also see him as sloth (wouldn’t come up with a proper business proposal, didn’t bother to check that the tanks held water not acid)

Camille is Wrath, she approaches everything - her siblings, her job, her assistants/lovers and verna in the end with rage - and she gets killed by an angry animal

Leo is Gluttony - he indulges himself in abundant drugs and abundant sexual partners, despite having a relatively good situation - he has a successful career that doesn’t put him directly under his fathers control, he has a committed caring partner but still he gluts himself on everything that comes his way, he dies chasing a cat that hunts far more than it needs too

Victorine is Sloth - she doesn’t want to put in the work needed too make her device work, she just takes shortcuts to make it seem like it is working, she kills her partner in part because her partner who is actually the skilled surgeon doesn’t want to do the work anymore (admittedly this one I’m not as sure on - she might be pride, refusing to admit her device doesn’t work out of fear of failure)

Tamerlane is Pride - Of all her siblings she is the most proud of being an usher, and the most obsessed with her own image, obsessed with beauty, obsessed with being a success, she will not take anyone’s advice not even her husbands, she is proud and controlling in her relationship forcing her husband to go along with her voyeuristic kink when he doesn’t want too. This is a double-edged sword as she is also deeply insecure, outsourcing intimacy and dying as a result of smashing mirrors attempting to prevent Verna taking her place (alternatively she could be envy - envious of Verna etc.)

Fred is Envy - he is envious of his father and his effortless command presence and his fathers success, and he is envious of his wife, punishing her horrifically purely because he believes she cheated on him, (even though she didn’t, all she did was think about it and go to a party where she was alone) he is so envious that he even makes an attempted coup against his father. (He could also be gluttony - his drugs, and dying because putting more and more nightshade in his coke)

Finally the Twins - Roderick and Madeline are Greed - They set everything in motion because they both always wanted more, more money, more recognition, more power, even immortality - through AI in Madeline’s case and in the creation of a bloodline legacy in Roderick’s

I also have one thing to add I think that Lenore (and Annabel Lee and Juno and Morella - Lenore’s mom) represent the seven capital virtues: these are chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness and humility.

Chasity - Lenore dies before she ever has a relationship, she is in gothic story terms a chaste innocent

Temperance - Lenore seems disgusted by her dad having done drugs (also Juno is Temperance, her wisdom in coming to her own conclusion to wean herself off Ligodine)

Charity - As Verna says the charity her mom starts is a result of Lenore saving her mom (also Juno and Morella donating to charity)

Diligence - Lenore sticks to what is right even when it’s hard, giving a statement to the police about her dad, caring for her grandfather, searching for treatment options for her mom (also Juno diligently weaning herself of drugs, Morella’s charity work, Annabel Lee caring for her children)

Patience - Lenore patiently encourages her family to do better and be better

Kindness - Lenore saves her mother, and creates a ripple effect that saves millions of lives (Annabel Lee being kind to everyone)

Humility - Lenore thinks that losing their fortune and company could be a good thing that leads to a moral good for her family

#house of usher #the fall of the house of usher #mike flanagan #flanaverse #house of usher spoilers #the fall of the house of usher spoilers #Lenore Usher #roderick usher #madeline usher #Fredrick usher #Tamerlane Usher #Victorine #Camille #Leo Usher #Napoleon Usher #Perry Usher #Prospero Usher #meta #house of usher meta #spoilers #Juno Usher

[wakkass]

It's impossible to put into words how much I love designing characters, especially for AU.

Yes, I recently had an avatar AU, and I really wanted to draw Katara from there (and also Zuko). I usually draw a static pose in order to display all the details of the clothes. This is such a kind of character sheet that helps me to better imagine the scenes in my head.

If you're interested in reading about the AU itself, then there will be some information about it.

I apologize in advance for mistakes in the text, English is not my native language. But, I hope, this will not interfere with understanding.

In general, my AU concerns the ending of the series, because at some point it seemed unrealistic to me. There is too much positivity with the obvious problems of the post-military space, as well as little logic in some moments (for example, I don't understand what Zuko was doing in Ba Sing Se. Did he abandon his newfound throne to the mercy of fate with the risk of a palace coup? Did he not feel the effects of a lightning strike? The longer I think about it, the surreal it seems to me).

At some point I thought, "this is all like Aang's dream, in which everything is intentionally good. As if this is the ending he wants, but it's unattainable." And then it dawned on me. But it really looks like his fantasy about the future after defeating the root of evil. This explains why Zuko recovered so easily, why everyone is just relaxing and having fun without a drop of post-trauma. Because Aang wants everything to be so naive and simple after defeating the Fire Lord. Because he's dreaming about it.

I know this is a very hackneyed narrative technique. It's pretty easy to say "this is someone's dream" to deny any events. But I found it curious, especially against the background of the episode "Nightmares and Daydreams", where Aang's dreams already simplified the reality around him. For me, it's like a lead-up to the finale, where he actually sleeps.

You ask, "but why is he sleeping?". I also asked this question, and the answer to it killed me. Because during the battle with Ozai, when the stone hit Aang in the wound, he fell into a coma. His body was paralyzed because his brain perceived it as a repeated lightning strike, again fatal. The avatar's state was the only one that did not allow Aang to die, but only to fall into a coma. And instead of an epic battle, we have a little helpless boy spending a huge amount of energy just to maintain his life.

The second Aang collapsed, he disappeared, leaving Ozai alone with the remnants of his temporary power. And no one else saw the avatar…

I'll leave the intrigue for you about this, but for now I'll tell you about the concepts from the art.

Naturally, everyone searched for Aang, and, naturally, they did not find him. Katara and Zuko were the only ones who did not participate in the search, for several reasons:

Zuko was rehabilitated for a very long time after being struck by lightning, and Katara nursed him (I'm sure there are a lot of fics about this topic. The only difference is that there is no romance here. The focus of my AU is not on it, but on the problems of the consequences of the war). He survived, but he had major problems with his heart, digestive system and spine. Who noticed the cane in his hands? Yes, Zuko couldn't walk without it. From now on and forever. He was physically unable to leave the palace, and Katara maintained at least some of his condition.

Even after Zuko's rehabilitation, it was necessary to keep the power in his hands. Imagine what a shock the Fire Nation experienced when not just the former Fire Lord was overthrown, but the country's policy changed dramatically. Now Zuko needed to keep power in his hands and establish a new regime as soon as possible, before his opponents raised armies and people against him. This boy, who recently sat quietly at a military meeting, needed to show unprecedented strength and power to everyone: both officials sought to turn the situation in their favor, and the people who wanted stability and prosperity. But how to do this if Zuko couldn't even breathe normally, and getting out of bed required tremendous effort? It was impossible… Anyone else would have given up, but not Zuko. He has never given up without a fight and has never turned his back on danger, even if he risks dying.

It hurts me a lot for him, too. Fate has never stopped pushing Zuko against obstacles, but this time he couldn't rely on himself. He almost couldn't bend, his body almost didn't obey. He was an easy target and there was nothing he could do about it. This helplessness irritated him, saddened him, oppressed him. The only thing that wasn't broken yet was his spirit, and Zuko was barely able to maintain it in such conditions. If it wasn't for Katara, I don't know if he would have coped in the end. She was now his only support, his only ally in these cold oppressive walls, the only rational grain in his doubts.

You ask, "Where is Iroh? Where is Mai?"

Iroh, along with the White Lotus, took on a mission to liberate the Earth Kingdom from the Fire Army and establish relations with the kingdom. In fact, Iroh now shared power with Zuko: uncle was engaged in foreign policy so that his nephew could focus on domestic policy.

With Mai, everything was much simpler: after getting out of prison, she was completely disappointed in the guy who always left her. She sent him a letter, where she finally ended their relationship, and left with her family somewhere far away. Perhaps she and Zuko will cross paths again and will be able to establish a relationship. But not now.

Katara remained to help Zuko not only with treatment, but also with his policy. As a resident of an almost disappearing tribe, as well as an able leader, she helped him with projects and plans to improve the quality of life of the population and actively participates in them. She performed those missions that Zuko can only entrust to her. After all, she was a friend he could rely on and to whom he could open his feelings.

In her design, I wanted to reflect the combination of two cultures: Fire and Water. I was based on the designs of the "12 Kingdoms" (if you haven't watched this gorgeous anime or haven't read ranobe, I strongly recommend doing it. This universe is no less interesting than the avatar's world, I'm sure you'll like it), because the palace intrigues and the plot with winning the respect of the court reminds me very much of the story from there.

One day Zuko's legs finally gave up, he could not get up. All the stress he was going through was breaking his body so much that at some point the Katara's treatment stopped working.

It was a very difficult moment for both of them. Zuko has just started to promote his ideas and defend his rights to the throne, and Katara sincerely did not know what to do. If the truth about the true state of the Fire Lord had come out, all the ill-wishers would not leave this opportunity and attack, this couldn't be allowed. They urgently needed to create the appearance that everything is in order, but how?

Zuko came up with a very brazen idea. He asked Katara to use bloodbending on him to simulate walking. It was a very difficult request for her, because this skill represented the worst face of the war, it was created to torture people. And the last thing she wanted was to torment Zuko. She hesitated for a long time, he saw it, but he couldn't wait. He couldn't stop, it wasn't a luxury he could afford. Therefore, he went out, trying not to get up and move much.

Naturally, at some point his weakness was noticed at the most inopportune moment. Naturally, at this moment Katara couldn't let Zuko fall. Imperceptibly under her sleeves, she moved her friend's body like a puppet, causing him as much unbearable pain as most would not stand. But Zuko was not like that. He stood it.

It looked like this to me somehow:

They were both very depressed that day. He was suffering physically because of Katara's bending, and she could not believe that she had caused the suffering of a person dear to her. It broke and scared her, she opened the way to the Hama's madness, and was very afraid to fall into it.

Zuko assured her that it was impossible. Hama didn't have people to guide her, while Katara has friends. Maybe Zuko didn't consider himself the best moral mentor, but he promised to be there in the most difficult moments for Katara, and now he won't leave her.

This encouraged her and opened her eyes to her own cowardice. She was afraid of the darkness of Hama, and instead of curbing it, Katara hid it in herself, ignored it. And that's what it led to: the person who needed her help suffered. But she didn't want to run away anymore. She wasn't going to give up without a fight and turn her back on those who needed her.

At the beginning, Katara trained on herself, experiencing the same pain as the victims of bloodbending. Careless movement of blood through the vessels could cause internal bleeding at any time, it was very dangerous. The Hama's voice in her head pressed on her conscience, saying that innocent people felt all this pain, and only Katara was to blame for this.

Later, she learned to control the flow of water on puppets, like Hama. The point was to pass water through the threads without bursting them. Absolute control was required here, and Zuko taught her the techniques of firebending for self-control. This was necessary for Katara, because the Hama's voice in her head did not subside and did not allow her to correctly distribute her forces. It seemed like Katara was about to stumble, but Zuko wouldn't let her do it.

Gradually, Katara mastered this skill and tried to draw blood on Zuko's legs. The effect was unexpected. Her great willpower and desire to help him resulted in healing. Zuko began to feel his legs, and Katara discovered the reverse side of this bending. No, she didn't heal him completely, it's too early for him to get rid of the cane. But maybe one day she will become so strong that she can do it.

Katara realized that there was no evil magic, there was only evil intent. This was her first step towards learning to look inner demons in the face, and not to hide them in herself when it was possible to hurt others.

But what about the other design?

Katara's father sent her a letter asking her to return. Her family needed her help, because she was the last waterbender, a carrier of culture and skills, as well as a healer of a new level, the daughter of a tribal leader.

At home, everything was not the same as before, moreover, everything taked shape as a Northern Tribe. I really like the idea of the comic "North and South" about the problem of assimilation. Only here has Katara accepted all aspects of its culture, even the most unpleasant ones, and she would not give up so easily when this newfound knowledge was in danger of disappearing.

Actually, I wanted to draw her outfit of this arch. I wanted to redesign the costume for myself, because I like to do it. I kept the front strands of Katara, we don't talk much about them.

I would really like to describe the path of the rest of the team and what they do, of Aang and what happens to him. But I'm already tired of typing, and you probably read.

After all, the post is more about designs, and not about the AU itself, so the goal to reveal some of my ideas has been achieved in principle. Maybe sometime later.

Hope you enjoyed reading this :3

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #atla fanart #atla au #avatar fanart #katara #zuko

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you write something about Jason comforting the reader with the insecurities of stretch marks and fat? Please.

Sorry this took long for me to get to but it’s here finally! 🦦

Jason knew something was off the moment he noticed the absence of light within your eyes that he loved so much whenever you caught sight of yourself within the mirror, even if it was from the corner of your eyes it was still enough to sour your overall mood for the week. And it was because of this that Jason definitively decided that he needed to step in and help you out of the rut that you seemed to have gotten yourself in; seeing as how you never once hesitated to help him out of his own share of ruts- even the ones where he didn’t think himself deserving of being saved- Jason wanted to pay that kindness you’ve shone him forward and be there for you the way you’ve been there for him.

That and the fact that he doesn’t want his favourite person to have ever walked into his life to ever feel alone in their most trying times, especially when he knew damn well he could’ve done something to help solve the issue rather then stand at the sidelines and make it even worse.

So one day Jason found himself sat by your side on the bed after catching you looking at yourself dishearteningly through the mirror in shame, disappointment and disapproval one too many times. ‘What’s wrong sweetheart? Whose asses do I have to kick for making my baby upset hmm?’ Jason asked and you forced yourself to smile at his concern but didn’t think it was worth the hassle he’d be willing to put himself through for.

‘No one has said anything Jason, so there’ll be no ass you’ll be kicking I’m afraid, besides it’s stupid and I’ll get over it…or at least I thought I would by now.’ You directed the last part at yourself, muttering it under your breath, but all it did was raise Jason’s concern as he reached over and held your hand in his, tracing calming patterns into your skin with his thumb. ‘Come on angel,’ he softly encouraged, squeezing your hand, ‘there’s nothing that you coup ever say that would make me think of you any differently than I do now.’

You looked at him with tearful eyes that made him want to tear his heart out of his chest for how much it hurt him in seeing you in any sort of pain or distress. ‘Even with all my…fat and my stretch marks that I wish would go away every night when I’m constantly reminded on a daily basis that I’ll never be the vision of beauty? My my acne/acne scarring that I can never be rid of and are now a permanent extension of me?’ You asked, though the further you sent the more your vision blurred with your tears, making it harder for you to make out his expression, which didn’t help with your unsavoury thoughts that made you compare to yourself to the likes of your good friend Artemis; who told you on multiple occasions that Jason wasn’t a shallow man and that if he could, he’d choose you in every possible universe.

‘Yes.’ Jason replied seriously and without an ounce of hesitation. ‘Even with the things that you view as an insecurity because to me they’re what make you, well you.’ He then gets off the bed -hands still intertwined- as he knelt on his knees in front of you, smiling. ‘You’re still my y/n. My beautiful,’ he plants a kiss to your hand, ‘handsome,’ another kiss to the inside of your wrist, ‘gorgeous and ridiculous sweet y/n.’ He brings his barrage of kisses to an end by having the last two on your thighs where he knew you had stretch marks, looking up at you with kind and caring eyes that he only ever gives you and only you. ‘You only blessed me by giving me more of you to love up on and how could I resist such a beautiful blessing such as that?’

‘You mean that? Truly?’ You asked.

‘With my whole heart, I meant every word.’ Jason replied, now looking at you with complete and utter devotion to you, his deity.

‘I don’t disgust you? Not once?’ You asked again, still in denial that a man such as him existed.

‘I’d make constellations of your acne/scarring with my fingers if it brings you happiness.’ Jason began. ‘I’d memorise the way your plush and plump body cushions against me perfectly as though you were made to be in my arms and my arms only.’ He then let’s go of your hand to hold both of your thighs in his big, strong hands as he began to squeeze and stroke them at his own pace. ‘I’d kiss each and every one of your stretch marks while whispering my thanks to them for making you even more beautiful than I’d ever thought possible.’ He concludes, kissing your thighs once more in appreciation of your creation.

‘Jason…’ you were crying but for an entirely different reason as you watched on in fascination as he showed love towards the parts of yourself that you felt most embarrassed and ashamed about your entire life, Almost as though it came easy as breathing to him, like loving you was easy as breathing to him.

‘Yes sweetheart.’ He said against your thigh, pressing a loving kiss into it.

‘Thank you for loving me when I couldn’t love myself.’ You said, reaching your hands to hold his face in your hands as you sweetly kissed him on the lips and feeling him smile into the kiss and still feeling his hands kneading the flesh of your thighs but instead of feeling ashamed, you felt loved. You felt happy that you’ve got a man like Jason who was addicted to you and every inch of your body as though he’ll never get a chance to worship your body again.

‘No need to thank me sweetheart, I’d gladly love on you in this life and the next because if I’m certain that I’m made for one thing, it’s loving you unconditionally and wholeheartedly.’ Jason replied, pulling away. ‘Now how about we get some take out and just spend the evening here, just the two of us?’ You smiled and pecked his nose, laughing at the way he scrunched up his nose. ‘That sounds perfect Jay, but then again anything with you is perfect.’

‘So just like you then?’ Jason smirked at you and you decided to shut him up with another kiss on the lips, unable to stop the smile on your lips from growing as you enjoyed your little piece of heaven with him.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dc x y/n #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #dc imagine #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

[paintingwhiteceilings]

❃S/O going on a trip with Seventeen❃

In honour of their new comeback that I am definitely processing as a not-delusional and completely functional human being, a very quickly written prompt inspired by the MV on what it would be like to travel with Seventeen. Also, I just came back from a short hiking vacation in Bavaria so it felt fitting to have a travel themed prompt.

Scoups/Seungcheol

❀The only way for you to convince Coups to go on a trip with you is to go on a purely spa-treatment/relaxation vacation where he will not have to lift a single finger. He wants the princess treatment, and only highly luxurious all-inclusive resorts will do.

❀The location doesn't even matter to him, as long as there is sun, because the two of you will not be leaving the hotel to go sightseeing. Coups will absolutely refuse to move for two weeks straight, unfortunately for you, that is, if you want to explore the town. For Scoups, walking around to see some historic buildings falls under movement.

❀ Instead, he wants to lounge at the pool, sipping on a fancy cocktail, enjoying the fact that, for once, he has no responsibilities. He is ready to catch up on a lifetime of sleep and, you know, alone time with his partner, undisturbed.

❀ You can't even convince him to go to the beach because dragging your stuff from the hotel is too much effort for him. Plus, he finds the sand incredibly bothersome.

❀ Unfortunately, his plans to relax are disturbed as he forgot to put his phone on silent the first day that you two arrived. Instead of peace and quiet, his phone is continuously ringing. He made the mistake of picking up once, stuck to listening to Seungkwan's rant about whatever questionable thing his BSS members did this time around.

Jeonghan

❀ He is definitely another supporter of the zero-movement trip, but where Coups pulls the leader card, he will drag his feet and go sightseeing with you. Jeonghan, similarly to Coups, refuses to go anywhere but a luxurious resort. The bed better be incredibly soft because he is exhausted and wants to spend most of his time either on a lounge chair near the pool or in bed underneath the soft covers, fast asleep (get your mind out of the gutter).

❀ Whenever you guys do end up going outside to see the world, he makes sure to have everything in his backpack. Whatever you need, he has made sure to pack it beforehand. From baby wipes to your favourite snacks to pads, he made sure to stuff it in his overflowing backpack.

❀ His patience is heavily tested when you drag him to touristy spots. He is only there because he loves you, not because he enjoys people or busy places. One time, he kept eyeing an annoying bratty child for a bit too long, and you are convinced that if you hadn't distracted him, he would've pushed it down the cliff. 

❀ Jeonghan is a god at haggling and can't get enough of it. You always end up with a bunch of souvenirs that he managed to get for cheaper. He keeps telling you that he needs to get this many souvenirs to cover all of the members, but you know better. He is addicted to the rush of winning.

Joshua

❀ Where his fellow 95-liners are content with sitting at the pool for two weeks straight, Joshua is the polar opposite, wanting to explore everything and anything that there is to see. Then again, I imagine him to be someone who prefers city trips over camping trips, enjoying the different cultures he gets to experience.

❀ Joshua is one of those people who does research before he visits a place. He always makes a vast list of places that he wants to take you to. Joshua's list consists of a healthy mix of places he finds fascinating and places he knows you would like. The added bonus to travelling with Joshua is that he will do all the talking if you end up getting lost.

❀ No matter what you guys are doing, Joshua's outfits are on point. He wants the both of you to look like you just came off a runway. There is no slacking; there will be no leisure wear, not even during the flight. He will make sure you guys are always matching, taking it way too seriously.

❀ The outfits are purely because Joshua wants thousands of photos of you two together at every location you visit. You better be prepared to pose as if your life depends on it, as whenever a scenery looks remotely picturesque, he will ask a local or a tourist to take at least twenty pictures. After the trip, he will combine all the pictures into a scrapbook, making you forgive him for the slightly obsessive and annoyingly persistent insistence on taking a picture every five minutes.

Jun

❀ He is incredibly excited to be going on a trip with you, but don't expect him to help you plan it in any shape, way or form. Jun is okay with pretty much anything; however, he is absolutely the type to turn up without knowing where you guys are even going. Generally, he has the mentality of a very well-behaved child, so you won't have to constantly entertain him. That being said, you better keep him occupied when you visit a lot of museums, or else you will be plagued by a constant whining of "Can we go yet?"

❀ During one of your trips, he came up with an exciting game for museums. You guys use a random object generator and then try to find that object in a painting or display; whoever finds it first, wins. It allows for you to enjoy the art and for him to endure the "boring old stuff".

❀ His favourite part of trips is sitting outside at a café with some tasty food or drinks, watching people go about their day-to-day. He enjoys soaking in the atmosphere without running around to visit museums that require thinking and likes to make up stories about those passing by.

❀ If there are stray cats/dogs in the place that you are visiting, half of his camera roll will be pictures of just them. Don't expect him to take pictures of you; he already took a hundred pictures of an earless black-and-white cat that take up the remainder of his storage. I hope you bring hand sanitiser because he will be petting every single one of them regardless of the potential fleas.

Hoshi/Soonyoung

❀ Welcome to the most unhinged vacation of a lifetime. With Hoshi, there will be no opportunities for you to sit down and relax because he will be dragging you around the entire city/country, trying to experience and see as much as is humanly possible. His energy has no limits, and he wants you to get the most out of the holiday.

❀ In other words, Hoshi will be speed-running your vacation with zero planning. Sure, he asked Joshua and Wonwoo for their travel itinerary, but other than that, he is doing this purely based on vibes.

❀ Be prepared to end up at some obscure and rather dodgy restaurants that will definitely give you food poisoning because Hoshi felt it call out to him. Sure, it might have been the tiger on the storefront, but he maintains that you find the best food in the least touristy places. After this trip, you will never trust Kwon Soonyoung to plan anything ever again.

❀ He is no different when you guys decide to have a nice relaxing day at the pool. In his never-ending energy, he will almost accidentally drown you during a water fight. The other members are genuinely scared that Hoshi will kill you someday on accident.

❀ He tries so hard to be serious during museum visits. However, his genuinely trying to be insightful comments are so unhinged that they have you cracking up continuously. You can't take him seriously when he examines a Greek statue, noting that the statue is "very well made. Look at how well-crafted that ass is, perfect proportions.”

Wonwoo

❀ The moment you guys decide to go on a trip, Wonwoo will send you a plethora of surveys asking you what type of trip you want to go on and what kind of sights you want to see. It is so in-depth that you wonder what Wonwoo is even going to do with all this data; you are not sure what the point is of you ranking different pool shapes.

❀ That is until he presents you with The Schedule. Jeon Wonwoo has created the world's most detailed schedule, planning everything down to the mili-second. Even relaxation time is accounted for, describing what kind of relaxation activity it should be.

❀ If it is not on the schedule, he is not doing it. The schedule is holy, and if anything needs changing, you can let him know in the feedback form he created to be completed at the end of the trip. Wonwoo is deadly serious. At the very least, you will have seen most of the country's/city's highlights at the most optimal times.

❀ Sadly for him, he accidentally breaks his glasses halfway through the trip when he leans forward too much when peering down a cliff, requiring an impromptu visit to the local optician. Rather than freaking out about the lack of sight, Wonwoo will be fretting about the unravelling of his precious schedule. He will attempt to reschedule the rest of the trip that night, but you kindly encourage him to be a bit more flexible.

Woozi/Jihoon

❀ Good luck trying to get this man to take a break and leave his house. He doesn't understand why you guys have to go on a trip; why change the scenery when his house has food that you know will be good and a bed that is always comfortable? If you want to go to a pool, the gym he frequents has one. It is absolutely unnecessary, in his opinion, to leave his house, let alone Korea, unless it is for a world tour.

❀ When you finally manage to convince him to go on a trip with you, he will try to smuggle his 'portable' studio into his luggage. Yes, you have told him that this will be a no-working trip. Yes, a part of him was still planning to spend a couple of afternoons locked in the hotel room, producing a song. You sternly remind him that being a workaholic is a problem and breaks can help with writer's block.

❀ Still, he will walk around the city/country with his phone tightly held in his hand to record anything that inspires him. He especially pauses at local musicians playing traditional folk music, fascinated by the different melodies and rhythms. He, moreover, notes down any lyrics that pop into his head. Woozi won't say it out loud, but spending time with you makes him think of the sappiest, most romantic love songs.

❀ He magically vanishes the moment he sees a gathering of tourists. No matter how much he loves you, he will not willingly expose himself to crowds. 

DK/Seokmin

❀ In all fairness, DK might be the best person to go on a trip with. DK gets easily and genuinely excited about everything, making even the most boring museum visit feel like an awe-inspiring experience. Moreover, he is always happy whenever you are happy, meaning that even if he doesn't particularly like a place or museum you are visiting, he will still have a good time as long as you are smiling.

❀ He is such a golden retriever puppy and loves just about everything. As long as you are there next to him, he is having a great time, making it the best trip he ever went on. He will repeatedly tell you that, too, never ceasing to take the opportunity to let you know that he loves spending time with you.

❀ He is down to do anything you want, whether it consists of relaxing at the pool or visiting some obscure art performance he doesn't quite understand. Just plan it for him, and he will show up with the biggest smile as if it had always been on his bucket list. Honestly, we all need a boyfriend like DK.

❀ Where Jeonghan comes home with souvenirs due to his obsession with haggling, DK does so because he genuinely wants to have presents for all the members. Half of your trip consists of finding souvenirs for his friends, and DK is bent on finding something nice for all of them. He won't leave before his suitcase is filled to the brim with small statues, food and postcards.

Mingyu

❀ Mingyu is a bit of a disaster when it comes to travelling. You constantly have to keep an eye on his possessions for him; before you know it, he has misplaced his passport or accidentally forgot to bring his phone. Unsurprisingly, he will be the unlucky soul whose luggage gets unceremoniously left behind at the departure airport. You spend the entire first day buying him a whole new wardrobe because neither of you has much faith in his luggage arriving in time before the trip ends.

❀ He says he is down to go on a road trip together, but you better turn down that idea real quick. With his clumsiness, he will end up somehow breaking the rental car. He does convince you to go on a fancy yacht together, where you discover that boats and Kim Mingyu do not mix. You had to fish him out of the water at least five times due to him losing his balance. The poor guy wanted it to be a romantic boat ride, too. He had prepared an entire picnic basket and candles, the whole Pinterest picture, which he may have taken into the water with him as he fell.

❀ Mingyu has one obsession during the entire vacation, namely trying all the food that is available. Sure, museums can be fun, but rather than wasting his precious time looking at pretty paintings, he wants to spend his time stuffing his face with the local cousine. He has compiled a list solely consisting of good restaurants, and his entire goal this trip is to try as much food as is humanly possible.

❀ I hope you have strong bowels because he will need you to eat every five minutes in order to try all the dishes available.

The8/Minghao

❀ Instead of you having to drag him to museums, he is the one who wants to visit every museum at least once. Not the history ones, though, just the art museums; history, in his opinion, is boring. Who cares that some famous historical figure died in this spot?

❀ He loves to go on street art tours given by locals. For him, it is hitting two birds with one stone. On the one hand, he gets to see cool street art that isn't restricted by whatever the art institutions deem acceptable. On the other hand, he gets to soak in the vibes of the city as he is led through it. He is another member who strikes me as loving to sit down at a café to observe the day-to-day life of the city's inhabitants.

❀ He would definitely be down to visit a wine country so that the two of you can go on wine tours. Minghao would especially be excited if those wine tours consisted of quality wine that he rarely is able to drink in Korea. Honestly, if you were to take him to either Italy or France, he would be happy. Art and wine? That is all he wants in life.

❀ Going on vacation with Minghao reeks of luxury. He will not hold back and splurge on the finer things, making sure that the two of you are pampered. To be fair, he needs it after dealing with twelve hyperactive men on a daily basis; he is pretty sure that they are making him age twice as fast.

Seungkwan

❀ He is so incredibly excited to be going on a trip with you that he overpacked. His luggage is twice as big as yours, mostly because he wanted to pack some of your dresses that he thinks you look especially pretty in and enough supplements to last both of you a lifetime. You don't even have to worry about accidentally forgetting to pack something because Seungkwan got you. He has been closely watching you pack your suitcase, lovingly (albeit naggingly) pointing out whenever you missed something.

❀ Seungkwan loves going on hiking vacations combined with a hotel. We have all seen him and Vernon trying to catch a bug; this boy is not going camping unless it is glamping with enormous amounts of bug repellent. Still, he lives for those easy-to-do hikes, using it as an opportunity to walk and talk about life. He takes comfort in knowing that despite his hectic schedule, he can use these trips to catch up and share whatever emotions and thoughts you are having.

❀ He is such a social butterfly; it doesn't matter where you are, but Seungkwan will strike up a conversation with the nearest person. Upon visiting a local restaurant, he becomes best friends with a group of local grandmas dining next to you two. He has exchanged addresses and has already promised to send them a Christmas card. You are not sure how he managed to communicate with them, as neither spoke the other's language.

❀ Seungkwan, moreover, is the best person to go to touristy spots with. He has such assertiveness that he will get his way no matter what. No annoying unattended child or whining entitled Karen is getting in his way of enjoying this historical site with the love of his life. 

Vernon

❀ Vernon is a bit hopeless when it comes to holidays. He is another member who will show up and do whatever you tell him to, not really caring what kind of vacation they go on. Take him anywhere, and Vernon will have a great time, content with any activity you want to do or sight you wish to see. Vernon enjoys the occasional museum visit and is always down for a hike as long as it doesn't require any intense physical activity.

❀ Still, you will have to help him pack because he will forget detrimental things if you don't. Underwear? He completely forgot about it until you mentioned it. How could he forget about that? His passport? It completely slipped his mind to put it in his hand luggage. He did make sure to download all the episodes of a show on Netflix so you can watch it during the plane ride. Priorities, I guess. 

❀ One time, he forgot to bring his swimsuit to a pool vacation. Luckily, there were enough stores where he could buy a new one, but, to this day, you are not sure how he managed to forget the one thing central to a vacation based around swimming. He was down to swim in his underwear, as well, until you mentioned getting a new one in the store next door.

❀ Honestly, out of all the members, he would be the best road trip buddy for the playlists but the worst for preparation.

Dino/Chan

❀ Dino can go two ways when it comes to a trip. He either will not want to go outside the hotel and will be content with relaxing at the pool for the entire trip. Or, he will want to visit every highlight and tourist attraction without taking a single break. There is no in-between, and it fully depends on how much the members exhausted him with their endless teasing.

❀ He is excited to finally be able to have some quality one-on-one time with you without being continuously teased by his members. A part of him is incredibly nervous to go on a trip for the first time with someone other than his members; he hasn't stopped thinking about all the things that could go wrong. However, the excitement of getting to spend uninterrupted one-on-one time with you overshadows most of it.

❀ He unironically loves museums and historical sites because of the history and stories they tell. Dino acts like his love for history is a running gag, using it to crack his members up. However, he genuinely enjoys learning about history and finds something inspiring about the ever-lastingness of historical figures. Nothing is more fascinating to him than how their stories have continued to exist long beyond their passing. Thus, he wants to visit as many historical sites as he is able to.

❀ I feel like Dino would be the type to 'accidentally' forget his razor and convince everyone he grew a beard because of it. In reality, all that had grown over the weeks you have been away were five whisps of hair, barely visible. When you told him he could borrow yours for the time being or he could get a new one in the pharmacy down the road, he dramatically exclaimed it was a sign to grow out a beard. It is safe to say that the members didn't let him live it down. 

masterlist

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt #seventeen reactions #choi seungcheol #svt joshua #svt jun #hoshi #wonwoo #woozi #svt dk #lee seokmin #mingyu #minghao #the8 #seungkwan #vernon #svt dino #lee chan #seventeen fanfiction #scoups #kwon soonyoung #lee jihoon #jeonghan #moon junhui

[holyratrimony]

Summer Love at Bighorn Ranch

Pairing: John Marston x Fem!Reader

Summary: After his divorce from Abigail, John Marston is a mess. A series of rash decisions lead to John purchasing a rundown piece of land called Bighorn Ranch. As the ranch grows, so does the need for extra hands. When you show up, ready for your new job, John is immediately taken with you. When you get caught in a thunderstorm and show up on his doorstep, soaking wet, will he be able to keep his feelings to himself, or will he confess everything? 

Word count: 9.7k (how does this keep happening?)

Warnings: minors dni, 18+ only, I’ll kick you in the knees I s2g, do not read this,  dry humping, premature ejaculation, coming in pants, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, creampie, older man/younger woman

A/N: This takes place during the 90s, John’s in his forties, R is like mid-20s, Jack is like 10 in this, hedgehogs are not rodents but John doesn’t need to know that, also R wears John’s clothes at one point (as someone who's plus size I think John would own pretty baggy clothes), John is mega horny in this (in like a very pathetic way), how’d angst get in here? (it's just a lil bit), John thinks he is in charge but R has him wrapped around her finger, no physical descriptions of reader, no use of y/n, not beta read

To say John wasn’t doing well would be an understatement. After the divorce with Abigail, he’d hit a bit of a midlife crisis. The first step was moving out and subsequently crashing in Dutch and Hosea’s guest room. The two older men were patient with him, lending him some much-needed emotional support as he processed his feelings. After about a month, one drastic haircut, and a new earring, John finally was ready to move out to a place of his own.

He’d decided to return to his roots, taking out a rather large loan and purchasing a run-down ranch on a large piece of land in the middle of nowhere called Bighorn Ranch. The land was green and vast with a mix of plains and forests. It only took three days of him trying to lay the foundations for the house alone before giving in and calling Charles and Javier for help. The two men had come to his aid quickly, and with three hands they were able to get the ranch house built within just a few months. Then the barn, stables, and coup went up, followed by a half dozen small cabins about a mile from the main house. Both Javier and Charles opted to live in the cabins despite John’s protests, stating that they wanted to give him his space in the house. Ranching made sense to John. It was something he was good at. Whether it was keeping up with all the chores or breaking in the wild mare Charles found wandering the plains. As the ranch grew, so did the need for more hands. Javier had been tasked with taking the truck into the nearby towns, the closest being 30 minutes away, and hanging up help-wanted posters. The new ranchers would live on the property in the remaining cabins and would be responsible for a mix of construction, maintenance, and handling of the animals. Within a few weeks, four new hands had joined the ranch. The hands were set to arrive on a sunny spring afternoon. John was waiting on the porch with Charles and Javier, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. His hair was still growing back since the regrettable impulse cut, the ends reaching his ears. His beard was short, little more than stubble. The scars he’d gotten from a neighborhood dog when he was growing up cut through the dark hairs. He’d kept the small gold hoop in his ear despite the light teasing from Charles and Javier. The three men were discussing the horse show that was coming up next month when the sound of a car cut them off. The red and white Dodge Ram 2500 rumbled up the dirt drive, kicking up a small cloud behind it. The truck pulled up in front of the house, stopping next to John’s teal and silver Ford F-150. Three men in their twenties piled out of the truck, each sending a friendly smile and wave toward the older ranchers. John, Charles, and Javier made their way down the porch steps, John stubbing out his cigarette on the railing. The new hands introduced themselves, apparently all childhood friends which explained why they arrived together, shaking hands and giving names. After introductions, John showed the men around the main part of the ranch. Showing them the stables, the coup, and the different paddocks for the sheep, goats, and cows took up the better part of an hour. As they headed back towards the house John let them know that that was probably enough for right now. Once they were on the porch he explained the basic amenities in each cabin. They’d have electricity, a small kitchen, a bathroom, a bed, and a landline. John handed them each a slip of paper with the number for his line, letting them know that if they needed Charles or Javier they’d be living right next door. Charles offered to take the boys down to the cabins and Javier offered to join, citing that he needed to change out of his dusty work clothes. The boys hopped in their truck and followed after Javier and Charles, the cloud of dust slowly getting further and further away. John took a seat on one of the chairs on the porch, looking down over the property. There was still one new hand that was supposed to be arriving, likely within the next hour. John pulled another cigarette from his pocket, cupping his hand around his lighter as he flicked it, protecting the flame from the wind. Heady smoke filled his lungs as he leaned back. The three boys seemed nice. All were well-mannered and friendly. One of them, Riley, John thought his name was, said he’d worked at the MacFarlane’s ranch for a few years, dealing mainly with the horses. The other two mentioned they’d worked doing construction for the last few years. Apparently, they wanted more exciting work and while the MacFarlane’s didn’t have any more jobs available, they knew Bighorn was hiring and sent the boys in John’s direction. Javier had handled the applications, of which there were few. He was typically in charge of the business end of things despite the ranch belonging to John. Javier had a charm and refinement that was perfect for dealing with people and local businesses that John seemed to lack. John’s mind began to drift, as it often did when he was alone, to Abigail and Jack. He had Jack for a few days each month. The last time Jack came to visit, John had shown him how to ride. The two of them didn’t talk a whole lot but the time they spent together always felt special. Jack had a room in the ranch house, filled with his medieval fantasy books, a couple of his toys, and a small gaming setup with a sega genesis and little box tv. Jack had tried to teach John how to play Sonic but John was hopeless. His fingers were too big for the little buttons and he just couldn’t get the hang of moving that damn rodent around. He missed Jack, every damn day. Abigail too, but that was getting easier. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of tires on the dirt road. A grey and blue Chevy Silverado pulled up the drive. John stood up, a slight groan leaving his lips. He was only in his forties but his years of hard living seemed to be catching up to him. He moved down the steps, his eyes trained on his boots until the sound of a car door slamming shut had him looking up. John’s heart stopped. Or he couldn’t breathe. Or he died. He wasn’t sure. All he could tell was that the woman in front of him was like a dream. The late afternoon sun shone on your form, bathing you in a golden glow. Your eyes were covered by sunglasses, a black shirt adored your torso while your legs were covered by a pair of blue jeans, and a pair of brown work boots on your feet. Your smile was easygoing as you raised a hand in greeting. Your voice was kind and warm as you greeted him. “Hi! I’m one of the new ranch hands. Are you Javier?” John let out a laugh at that, trying to compose himself.   “No, no, I’m John. John Marston. I uhh… I own Bighorn.” He was trying not to let his eyes drag over your body but he couldn’t help himself. “Jav-Javier’s in charge of the business side of things, you’ll meet him later.” “Nice to meet you, Sir,” A spike of heat seemed to pierce through John at the title. The smile etched on your face was radiant as you gave him your name. God, you were pretty. John cleared his throat as he attempted to avoid looking directly at you. “The other hands got here bout an hour ago. They’re down at the cabins right now. Ya wanna join them or do ya wanna tour of the ranch?” His hand rubbed the back of his neck almost sheepishly. He couldn’t help but wishing you’d take the tour. Selfishly hoping to get some one on one time with you before introducing you to the other men. He finally mustered the courage to look up at your face. Your smile seemed almost shy as you replied, stepping towards him slightly, “I think I’d like to see the ranch, Sir.” He was fucked. ~~~~~~ Having extra hands on the farm proved to be endlessly helpful as spring turned to summer. The animals that had been born only a few weeks after you and the boys arrived were growing bigger and bigger. The four of you also helped John and Charles bring some of the horses to a show in one of the neighboring towns, bringing in a pretty sum of cash. John was beginning to feel a little more at peace. The loans for the ranch were beginning to get smaller and smaller as he paid them off. The stress on his shoulders seemed to be lessening as the weeks went by. His self-deprecating thoughts being replaced with thoughts of you. To say John was enamored would be putting it lightly. To start with you were a good worker. Often working longer hours than necessary, going until you felt the job was complete. At the end of the day, you’d slump onto the steps of the porch, your shirt sticking to your chest, your skin glowing, a blissed-out smile on your face. John would come out and offer you a beer. There would normally be only five minutes where you were alone before the rest of the men joined the two of you. John tried not to resent it, knowing he had no claim over you, but god he wished he did. John found himself staring at you as you moved around the ranch. Whether you were carrying bales of hay to the stables, pounding in nails on the fence you were fixing, or helping break one of the new horses. John would let his gaze drag up and down your body before catching himself. He would reprimand himself. Reminding himself that you were a. Almost twenty years his junior, b. Likey dating one of the younger hands (a thought that had made him prone to snapping at the young men without much prompting), and c. wouldn’t want a broken man like him. He’d scold himself, telling himself he was a pervert for looking at you like that, for wanting to take you, claim you. But he couldn’t seem to stop the thoughts from creeping in late at night. When his rough hands fisted his cock and he’d think about you on your knees for him, your lips and tongue running up and down his length as you looked up at him with those pretty eyes. Or how you’d feel wrapped around him. What you’d sound like as he took you from every position imaginable. How you’d react if he pinched your nipples, if he spanked you. Despite being alone in that big house he’d bite his fist as he came, moaning out your name as the drag of his hand became too much. When the lust had passed and his cock softened, cum drying on his stomach, and reality set in, he’d mutter to himself, “You’re a fool, Marston.” The sentiment never seemed to stick because he’d see you bend over in that pair of jeans the next morning and would be stuck fighting the arousal that seemed to surge through him for the rest of the day. He was jacking off like a teenager, seemingly unable to control himself. When he spoke to you he’d stumble over his words, never being able to fully articulate his thoughts before getting lost in your eyes or your smile. Charles and Javier had picked up on his infatuation. Relentlessly teasing him when it was just the three of them. There was one day you were going to run errands in town. You’d stopped by the house to ask if the men needed anything else picked up while you were there. The day was already blazing hot despite it only being midmorning and you’d opted for a sundress. The fabric was light and airy around your thighs, the neckline cutting down to show more of your chest than was strictly necessary. John, Charles, and Javier had been in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to brew, when you knocked, letting yourself in through the front door. “Hello?” Your sweet voice echoed through the house. “In the kitchen,” Charles called back. When you entered the kitchen it took everything in John not to drop the mug he’d just grabbed from the cabinet. The flush on his cheeks was immediate. He could feel his jeans getting tighter as he took in your form. He could feel his mouth hanging open slightly. He was only drawn out of his trance by Charles’ gentle elbow in his side. Luckily it seemed like you missed the small interaction. “Mornin’ y’all.” you nodded to Charles and Javier before turning to John. “I’m heading into town and was wondering if there’s anything you need me to pick up, Sir.” John could barely manage to shake his head. “T-that’s very nice of you but I think we’re all set sweetheart.” The endearment slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. You nodded as you slipped your sunglasses onto your face. “Alright, I’ll see y’all, later.” You shot a dazzling smile towards the men as you turned, exiting the kitchen. John was able to stew in his slight mortification until the sound of the front door shutting echoed through the house. As the latch clicked John felt his friend's knowing gazes on him. Charles was the first to speak. “I’m not gonna lie to you, that was hard to watch. ‘Sweetheart’? Really?” The teasing lilt to his voice almost had John hiding his face in embarrassment. Javier clasped a hand on John’s shoulder, giving him what could only be described as a shit-eating grin. “Oh, you’ve got it bad, brother.” John let out a long groan, debating adding a bit of whiskey to his morning coffee. He was gonna need it if he had to put up with these two for the rest of the day. That night he came in the shower, fantasizing about fucking you dumb as you bent over in that pretty little dress for him. Then again later in his bed at the idea of your legs wrapped around his head, calling him sir as he ate you out until you cried. ~~~~~~ The storm that overtook the skies a few weeks later came out of nowhere. The dark and heavy purple clouds seemingly materialized out of the clear blue sky. Lightning and thunder breaking up the peaceful feeling of the ranch. John was in the house when the rain began to fall. The drops pounding against the roof creating an unrelenting din. He walked away from the window he was looking out to the phone in the hallway. He should probably call Charles and Javier. They’d taken the truck into town and were probably still at the mechanic seeing as the owner was an old friend. He dialed the number for the garage but was only met with static. One of the phone lines must have been knocked down in the storm. He’d have to check around the property whenever Charles and Javier returned with the truck, likely tomorrow at the earliest. John’s mind flashed to you, as it often did. He hoped you were back at your cabin, safe from the torrential rains. You’d been up at the ranch this morning but probably headed back with the boys earlier in the afternoon. He was pulled out of his thoughts by a frantic pounding, different from that of the raindrops. Someone was knocking on the door. He crossed the room, hand twisting the door open to reveal your drenched form. You were dripping wet. Your jeans were several shades darker than they had been earlier, your white t-shirt was essentially translucent. John tried to not stare at the black outline of your bra showing through the shirt or at the way the fabric clung to your skin, showing off your form perfectly. His gaze was brought back to your lips as you spoke. “I’m sorry to barge in like this, Sir. I-I was with the horses when the storm started and the thunder spooked some of them. I had to round them up.” He shook his head at your words. “Come on inside darlin’, you must be freezing.” You nodded, stepping in off the porch and onto the mat inside the doorway as he stepped back, making room for you, letting the door shut behind you. “Let me go grab you a towel.” He grabbed his favorite towel from the bathroom, trying to ignore the little voice in his head that was unhelpfully pointing out that the soft fabric would soon be running over your body. As John came back out into the hallway he took in your form once again. You looked miserable and cold, trembling slightly. He handed you the towel, ignoring the spike of heat he felt as your hands brushed his. “Do you have your truck?” His raspy voice was gentler than usual. You shook your head. “Wanted to enjoy the walk this morning,” you chuckled slightly. “Well, I think that means you’re gonna be stuck here for a bit. The phones are down, the boys are at the cabins, and Charles and Javier are in town with the truck. ‘N I’m not risking you walkin’ back in this weather.” You nodded again, a small smile gracing your features at his concern. John was still trying his best not to stare at your chest, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hide the growing outline of his cock for much longer. “You’re welcome to the shower if ya’d like. And I’ll bring you a change of clothes too.” As you toed off your boots you let out a sweet “thank you”. John showed you to the bathroom, before running to his room to grab a shirt and sweatpants. He placed them on the shelf in the bathroom before turning back to you. “The extra room is yours for tonight. If you need anythin’ just holler.” Your voice stopped him on the way out of the room. “Thank you, Sir. You’re very kind.” He chuckled lightly, “I’m just tryna help. ‘N you can jus call me John, sweetheart.” Your smile broadened a bit, “Well, thank you, John.” He nodded, barely finding the strength to close the door behind him. God, that was worse. His name falling from your lush lips. His mind grabbed onto the sound, playing with it, twisting it until he was imagining you calling it out from underneath him. As the latch clicked shut he leaned back onto the hallway walls, pressing the heel of his palm into his growing erection. “Get it together, Marston,” he muttered. He moved to the kitchen, trying to forget the shape of your body, the way the tops of your tits were visible through the wet fabric. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the cupboards, pouring himself a generous amount. He quickly drank the amber liquid, hardly registering the burn in the back of his throat. He poured another glass, just taking a sip from it this time. He could hear the water from the showerhead, even in the kitchen, and was trying to not get distracted by the thought of your body in the shower. He wished he could walk in there, wrapping his arms around you as you rinsed the day off. He’d trail soft kisses over your neck as he lathered soap over your form. He could imagine the noises you’d make as he kneaded your shoulders, the little groans that would leave your perfect lips. He shook his head, he needed to distract himself. His eyes caught on the clock across the room, it was getting late, and the both of you would probably be hungry soon. He opened the fridge and glanced over the contents. The mostly empty shelves seemed to glare back at him. He dropped his head into his hands, frustrated at himself. You were in his home and he couldn’t even make you a proper meal. He was so distracted by his perceived downfall that he didn’t hear the shower turning off, nor the click of the bathroom door and the footsteps that followed. “Sir?” Your gentle voice pulled his eyes up. You were standing in the entrance to the kitchen, his shirt hanging off your shoulders, his sweatpants hugging your hips. His gaze dragged up and down your body. You weren’t wearing a bra. Your nipples were hardened from the cold, the outline of them visible through the worn material. His voice was gruffer than usual as he forced it out around the lump in his throat, making his eyes meet yours. “I thought I told you to call me John, darlin’.” You nodded sweetly. ��Alright, John.” His name sounded so sweet on your lips. He needed some sort of distraction. He grabbed the whiskey bottle from the counter, raising it for you to look at. “D’ya want a glass?” “I’d very much like that, thank you.” “How was your shower,” His full focus was on pouring a glass for you and topping off his own. Looking at you was almost too much. “It was really nice. Your water pressure is amazing!” your exclamation had John stiffening in his jeans once again. The idea of you in the shower, groaning as the water hit your shoulders, running in rivulets down your chest. He put the bottle back on the counter a little harder than he meant to, turning around to hand you your glass. The amber liquid on his tongue was a necessity for this situation. “I’d uh, I’d offer ya dinner but ‘m not much of a cook.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck at the admission, his cheeks tinted red. He was a grown man and the majority of his meals came frozen or from a can. “I could make something for us,” your voice was kind, soothing almost. John shook his head almost immediately. “I’m not gonna make you do that darlin’. Don’t want you to have to take care of my ass.” “I really don’t mind it, John. Plus I’d like to eat at some point.” Your tone was lighthearted as you grinned at him. After a little more back and forth he conceded, allowing you to take over the kitchen. You shooed him out of the room, telling him it’d be ready soon. John settled in the living room, flipping on the tv to try and drown out the thoughts of you. He couldn’t seem to stop. The whiskey wasn’t doing much to help. He’d occasionally flip between channels, but nothing was quite able to grab his attention. The idea of you in his house, in his kitchen, in his clothes was so domestic. The idea of walking up behind you while you cooked, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, it was intoxicating to him. But he couldn’t lie and say his thoughts were completely innocent. Images of you in various compromising positions kept flashing through his mind, now accompanied by the sound of you whining his name. About half an hour later you emerged from the kitchen with two steaming plates of spaghetti, setting them down on the dining room table. When John walked over to join you the smell hit him. It was heavenly. How you’d pulled together something like this out of the pathetic ingredients he had available was incredible. As the two of you ate dinner you made idle conversation. John had talked to you a few times since you came to the ranch but he could never seem to hold a conversation. Too overwhelmed by your presence when you were close to him. Now he didn’t have much of a choice. He learned a little bit more about your life before you came to work at Bighorn. When you’d both finished eating, John offered to clean the dishes. You didn’t argue, letting him gather the dirty plates. “It's still pretty early so if you want to put on a movie while I clean up, you're more than welcome to.” You agreed and he told you where to find the tape collection. As he washed the plates in the kitchen he scolded himself. You’re too old for her, Marston. Pretty young things like her aren't interested in broken men. You’re an old fool. Once the dishes were cleaned he took a moment to lean against the counter, holding his head in his hands. He had to get it together. As far as he should be concerned you're just his employee and he should treat you as such. Seeing as he’d finished his whiskey before you had brought out dinner, he grabbed a cold beer from the fridge. He called your name towards the living room, asking if you wanted one too. You shouted back a yes. He uncapped the two beers and walked back to the living room. You were curled up on the right side of the couch, your legs tucked up off the floor, a blanket from the chest near the window wrapped around you. You looked warm and comfortable. John pointedly ignored the pang of affection that shot through his chest as he handed you your beer. The couch was small but he still tried to give you space. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But even with his hip pressed against the arm of the couch, your legs still brushed against his thigh. He had to keep his breath steady as he could feel the warmth from your body. He recognized the movie you picked as Jurassic Park, one of Jack’s favorites. You were only at the part where the scientists were on their way to the island. “‘S a good choice,” he gestured at the tv. “The movie I mean.” “It’s one of my favorites!” God your smile was cute. He wanted to make you smile all the time. As the movie continued, the two of you sat in comfortable silence. However, John was very aware of your presence next to him. Of the press of your legs against his. In trying to ignore the heat in his stomach and the feeling of you right next to him, he was staring very hard at the tv. When Ellie jumped off the ride to go look at the stegosaurus, you shifted towards him, moving your legs to the other side of you, your torso almost pressing into his side. “I still can’t believe how real it looks! It's crazy!” The excitement in your voice made a smile form on John’s face. Subconsciously, he moved his arm to the back of the couch, giving you room to move in, to lean against him if you so desired. He didn’t even register he had done it until he felt your body press against his, tucking yourself under his arm. He couldn’t stop the small hitch in his breath at the realization that you were willingly cuddling up to him. He was sure you could probably hear his heartbeat from your new position. He tried to keep his eyes on the movie but it was hopeless, his gaze focused intently on you. When you raised your head to look at him he wasn’t quick enough. You’d caught him. He was caught off guard by your hand pressing into his chest as you pushed yourself up. You were still close to him, but you were now upright, your chest turned towards him. Your gaze was calculating as your tongue traced along your bottom lip. He couldn’t help but stare at the movement. The indecision seemed to leave your eyes as you noticed what he was staring at. You leaned towards him slightly. “John,” your voice was soft as he finally was able to drag his gaze to meet yours. Your eyes were dark, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “Kiss me.” His brain stopped. Or his heart stopped. He wasn’t sure. Maybe both. All he could manage was a small nod. His hand moved to grasp the nape of your neck, bringing your lips to his. The kiss was passionate, a mess of tongues and lips, of gasping breaths. John ignored every part of his brain that was telling him to stop. That you were too young for him, that you were his employee, all of the reasons that he shouldn’t let this happen. The feeling of you drowned out everything else. When he nibbled on your bottom lip, you let out a small moan. The sound sent blood rushing to his cock. All he wanted to do was draw those noises out of you. To hear every little sound you’d make in the throes of pleasure. Your kisses were as greedy as his, seemingly trying to savor every second of your embrace. He was able to pull himself away for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours as his hands came to cradle your head in his large hands. “Darlin’,” his voice was rougher than usual. “Are you sure you want this? Are you sure you want an ol’ man like me?” The glare you gave him was more chiding than actually frustrated. “First of all, you're not old. Second, I’ve wanted this since I started working here. Wanted you since that first day.” Your confession sent a shiver through John. “Really,” he couldn’t stop the slightly desperate tone that laced his voice. You nodded, smiling at him. “How could I not?” Your answer was simple but it sent a swirl of affection and mild pride through him. He moved a hand to your waist, you seemed to take it as an invitation to move onto his lap. Swinging your body so your legs rested on either side of his thighs. In this position, John allowed his hands to roam over your body. Tracing up your back, trailing down your sides, he let them come to rest on your ass, grabbing the flesh and pulling you against him slightly. The movement caused your hips to press against his hardness. You gasped loudly. His first reaction was worry that he’d done something wrong, but that thought left his mind when you rolled your hips against his again. He was painfully hard, his cock pressing against the confines of his jeans. He could feel the small wet spot forming in his underwear, his tip leaking precum. Each move of your hips felt like heaven. The feeling of you, in his lap, wearing his clothes, making those desperate little sounds as you ground yourself against him, was better than any of the fantasies he’d had. He was meeting your movements, thrusting up. The feeling was overwhelming, and when you attached your lips to his neck he keened. He let his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, just trailing them along the soft skin of your hips at first. When you didn’t make any move to stop him, he began to trace higher and higher. Fingertips brushing over your sides, your ribs, and then your tits. God, they were so soft. He let his hands pinch your nipples experimentally. You had to move your mouth from his neck when you let out a high-pitched moan. “Do that again,” your voice was tantalizingly desperate. “Please, John.” He complied, unable to deny you anything you asked for. His fingers twisted and pulled at your sensitive buds, rewarding him with your gasps and breathy moans. He pushed you back slightly in his lap, moving you so you were sat upright. He looked up at you as he brought his face to your chest, wrapping his lips around one nipple while continuing his ministrations on the other. The look on your face was the prettiest thing John had ever seen. Your lips were parted, your eyes squeezed shut from the pleasure, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you held on. You’d paused your hips when he moved you, allowing his pleasure to subside. When your eyes opened, your pupils were blown wide and lust practically dripping from your gaze, he couldn’t help himself from thrusting his hips to yours. His hands moved back to your waist, his eyes never leaving yours as he rolled his hips again, the pressure from your body providing him the slightest bit of relief. He’d been able to calm himself for a little bit, but with his hips humping against you and the look in your eyes, he was driving himself toward the edge again. He couldn’t help it. Couldn’t bother to be embarrassed about the needy moans leaving his mouth. It was almost without warning that he felt the pleasure in him swell as his balls drew up. The stimulation of your warm body rubbing against him sending him over the edge. His cock pulsed in his jeans, releasing spurt after spurt of hot cum. He came with a harsh gasp followed by an embarrassing whine of your name, his hands clutching you tightly as he kept humping you, drawing out the sensations. When his high began to subside he was overtaken with embarrassment. He’d finally gotten a chance with you and he’d cum in his pants like a goddamn teenager.   Your voice was small. “Um…John. Did you…did you just cum.” All he could do was nod as he buried his head in your shoulder, unable to fully look at you. Your hands buried into his hair, holding him sweetly. “It’s okay, John. It happens.” He couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye. He’d ruined his chance. “I-I’m so sorry.” he managed to get out. You let out a soft coo as your hands moved to cradle his face. “You’ve got nothing’ to be sorry for. I promise.” He tilted his head up, his gaze meeting yours. There was nothing in your eyes to indicate disgust or displeasure, just kindness. He nodded dumbly as he took you in. “Wanted this to be good for you, sweetheart. Been thinking of this for ages and I fucked it up.” You shook your head. “What makes you think you won’t be able to make it up to me?” your smile was teasing as you tilted his chin upwards. Hope sparked in his chest at your words. “Like right now?” desperation leaked into his voice. You nodded sweetly. “If that’s okay with you.” John couldn’t stop his overenthusiastic nod. “Well in that case I think I owe you somethin’” He shifted you off his lap, allowing you to stand. “My bedrooms, the door on your right, down that hallway there. I'll be there in just a moment.” As he stood you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing your lips to his once again. You then leaned in, allowing your lips to brush the shell of his ear. “You better, or I’ll be left with no choice but to take care of myself,” you pushed away from him, a sly grin on your face as you shot him a wink and started in the direction of his room. John watched you leave, letting his eyes drag over your form, his thoughts notably absent of the guilt that would plague him whenever he’d looked at you before. When you were out of sight, he went into the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself up. As he walked towards his room he felt what could only be described as butterflies in his stomach. You were far too good for him, in every single way, but you were here, you wanted to be with him, to have him touch you. He couldn’t help the dopey smile that broke out across his face. He pushed open the bedroom door to find you standing in the middle of the room, seemingly taking in your surroundings. At the sound of his footsteps, you turned to face him. “You ready to make it up to me, Mr. Marston?” Your teasing voice was cut off as he closed the space between the two of you and pulled your body into his. His lips crashed into yours, his hand coming to rest on your jaw. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, almost asking permission, which you granted. You tasted like the whiskey from earlier. He began to walk you backward, your steps hesitant until the backs of your legs hit the edge of his bed and you fell onto your back. You looked so beautiful below him. You scooted yourself toward the headboard as he dropped his knees onto the mattress. He moved up until he was settled between your legs, his body pressed to the bed as his hands came to rest on your thighs. “I wanna taste you darlin’,” his fingers brushed against the exposed bit of skin that was visible between your shirt and the band of your sweatpants. “Would that be alright with you?” When he lifted his eyes to meet yours, your pupils had swallowed your irises. Your gaze was heavy with lust, your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you nodded. “Please, John. Need you.” His hands hooked over the band of your sweatpants, pulling them down over the tops of your thighs. He couldn’t look away as more and more of you was revealed. As soon as the sweatpants had slipped off your feet, his mouth met your inner thigh. His hands moved to the insides of your knees, gently pushing you apart for him. He traded between kisses and gentle nips as his mouth trailed over the sensitive skin. “Take off your shirt for me sweetheart.” his voice was low, filled with desire. You quickly obeyed, tossing the fabric to the floor and settling back against the bed. John couldn’t believe that he was here, between your thighs. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d thought about this, in this same bed as he fucked his hand. And now it was happening, it was real. He felt his cock jump slightly, blood beginning to return to it. You were whimpering under him, clearly frustrated at the lack of attention being paid to your dripping cunt. He could see the small wet patch forming on the cotton that covered you and his mouth watered. He couldn’t resist dragging a finger over your clothed slit as his mouth continued along your thigh. You let out a high-pitched moan when his finger ghosted over your clit. God, he wanted to draw more of those noises from your sweet lips. “Don’t be impatient now, sweetheart. I’m gonna take my time with you.” His voice was even raspier than usual, dripping with lust. You thrust your hips slightly at his words, trying to get more from him. He pressed your hips back to the bed with one hand, holding you still, tutting his tongue at you. He dragged his mouth higher, his lips pressing against the cotton of your panties. He smirked slightly before grabbing the hem of them between his teeth and dragging them down your hips. When you were rid of them, he couldn’t help but take you in. “John,” your voice was sweet with want. With need. His hands moved back to your inner knees, pushing your legs apart for him. Your cunt glistened with slick, the insides of your thighs shining with it as well. He couldn’t wait to taste you. He was laying between your legs again, his face only inches from your heat. This was better than anything he’d imagined. You were a dream and he wanted to show you how much he wanted this, wanted you. You let out the most intoxicating noise when he licked a broad stripe over your entrance, his nose bumping your clit. Your hands, which had been gripping the sheets at your sides, moved to his hair, tangling your fingers in the dark locks. You were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He wanted to drink you in, the taste of you like heaven on his tongue. He wanted to drag it out. To tease you with soft licks, turn you into a begging mess. But that would take patience and John Marston was not a patient man. He buried his face in your pussy. His tongue laving over you as his nose rubbed against your clit. If he were to die right now, he’d die a happy man. His hands dug into your hips as he dragged you closer to his mouth. He was trying to memorize everything that made you moan, made you tug on his hair, or try to grind your hips against his mouth. The moan you let out when he wrapped his lips around your clit was absolutely sinful. “Johnnn,” your breath was labored, making it hard to form full sentences. “P-please,” you begged. “Please what, darlin’? What d’ya need?” His voice was teasing as his gaze met your lust-darkened eyes. “Please finger me, please. I need it, please, please, John.” He would’ve liked to tease you more but he was quickly realizing that he couldn’t resist doing anything you asked of him. “How could I say no when you sound so sweet beggin’ for me.” He brought his mouth back to your clit as one of his fingers traced lightly over your slit. You were so goddamn wet, the mix of your slick and his spit shining in the low light of the room. You shivered when he pushed a finger in, just to the first knuckle. He felt you clench at the invasion, making him let out a soft groan. He pushed his finger fully inside you, crooking it up to press against your walls. You let out a loud whiny moan at the sensation. He continued slowly dragging his digit in and out, brushing against your g-spot each time. He wanted to draw this out, show you how good he could make you feel. His mouth continued the assault on your clit, as he finally gave in and added another finger, much to your delight. Your hips rocked against his hand with each thrust, your back arching when he would slowly brush over that sensitive spot. He could feel you getting wetter, your breaths becoming shorter, the words leaving your lips barely discernible. “J-John, I-I’m gonna cum,” he could barely hear you as you wrapped your thighs around his head, your hand yanking on his hair, pulling him closer to you, trying to reach your peak. He sped up slightly, not enough to disrupt your pleasure, but just enough to have you gasping loudly. John felt you clench around his fingers, once, twice, and then you came. Looking back on it, he wished he could’ve seen your face, but he was so lost in lapping up the rush of slick from you. He could do this for hours, knelt between your legs, eating you out until you were exhausted or until he had his fill, whichever came first. He only pulled off of you when you tugged his hair trying to push him off as your thighs fell back to the mattress. He looked up at you, taking in your disheveled face. Your lips were slightly swollen from your teeth biting into them, your eyes were dark, your chest rising and falling rapidly with your breath. “Sorry darlin’, ya just taste so good. Couldn’t help myself.” He was grinning like an idiot. You returned his smile as you muttered, “you’re damn good at that.” “That mean I make it up to ya?” You nodded, “Doesn’t mean we’re done here though.” John’s cock jumped at that. Eating you out had turned him on more than he’d care to admit, his cock had become hard and heavy, pressed against the mattress. “Thank god for that,” his raspy voice was only slightly teasing. A small smile broke out across your face as you shook your head at him, your hands pulling him up to you. He knew you could taste yourself on his tongue, the thought driving him slightly crazy. He’d propped himself up, his arms on either side of you, keeping mind to not let his whole weight rest on you. You pulled back, the look in your eye intrigued him. You looked like you had a plan. Before he could register what was happening, you’d flipped him over, sitting on top of him, your body on display. You leaned forward slightly, your finger trailing along the buttons of his shirt. “I think you’re wearing far too much clothing.” John could only bring himself to nod, as he took in your form. He was in awe. Your fingers began to work on his buttons, undoing them one by one. As more of his chest was revealed you brought your mouth to gently kiss across his skin. He could feel his mouth hanging open slightly, his heart pounding as you showed him a gentleness he hadn’t felt in a very long time. Your touches were light and adoring. As more of him was revealed to you, compliments and sweet words spilled from your lips. Your lips trailed across the scars that littered his chest, murmuring, “you’re so beautiful, John.” He felt like he was being worshiped. Like you were treating him like something to be treasured. When your fingers undid the last button of his shirt, you helped him slip it off of his shoulders, tossing the fabric to the floor to join the other discarded garments. Your hands traced along his chest, running through the smattering of hair across his pecs. Your hands drifted down further, your fingers dragging lightly through the dark hair of his happy trail. They came to rest on the waistband of his jeans, tucking underneath the fabric slightly, your nails teasing the sensitive skin. Your eyes were dark as you looked up at him, asking for permission. He nodded, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. You made quick work of the button and zipper, your fingers once again hooking over the sides as you pulled his jeans and boxers down in one go. His cock sprang up from the fabric, leaking and red, the head practically dripping precum. John knew his dick wasn’t something to scoff at but he still felt self-conscious. That was until he raised his eyes to your face. “Oh, John,” your words were soft, you seemed transfixed, your hand coming up to wrap around him, your fingers only barely able to touch around his girth. He couldn’t help the hiss that escaped him at the pressure. Your hands were light, tracing along the vein that ran up his length, ghosting over the head, your thumb swept at the slit, catching a drop of precum. He was captivated as you brought your thumb to your lips, your tongue darting out to taste it. He couldn’t take this slow teasing, he couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to be inside of you. His hands gripped your hips, lifting you before flipping the two of you once again. God, you were so beautiful. His naked body pressing against yours. His hand reached up to trace your jaw, fingers coming to a rest on your chin, tilting your head to look at him. “Are you sure you want this?” As much as he dreamt of you, as much as he wanted this, he needed to know you felt the same. That this wasn’t something one-sided. Your hands reached around him, settling on the back of his neck, the smile you gave him was sweet, the lust in your eyes seeming to give way to something softer, something he’d dare call adoring. “John, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve been the one pursuing you all night. I know what I want. I know I want you.” He couldn’t formulate a response aside from bringing his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet at first but quickly sank back into something laced with sinful intents. He only pulled back to reach into the drawer of his nightstand, his hands tracing over the contents, searching for a condom. “John,” your voice was smaller than it had been a minute ago. “I-I’m clean. Got tested a bit ago. I, uh, I’m also on the pill.” His gaze was unable to leave your face as he tried to make sense of the words. His brain short-circuiting. When he didn’t respond, you continued, “S-so, I mean if you’re clean, we- I’m okay if we don’t use one.” He nodded, slowly at first, then with barely contained enthusiasm. “God, woman. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispered as his lips met yours once again. The kiss was chaste, cut short by both of your eagerness. John moved back, kneeling between your legs, one hand languidly stroking his cock as he looked down at you. He used his other hand to help scoot you forward, tipping your hips up slightly as your legs wrapped around his waist. He ran his tip over your entrance, tapping it against your clit. A shudder ran through your body as you let out a frustrated groan. He did it again, relishing in the way you squirmed as he refused to give you what you so desperately needed. “John,” your voice was clipped, stern. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to leave and go finished myself off…alone.” He got the message, letting his tip stop at your dripping entrance before pushing in slowly. The heat and the tightness that met him was almost overwhelming. He had to stop himself from pushing in all the way in one go. He tried to go slowly, an inch at a time, but the way you were wrapped around his length was too much. Before he could stop himself, his hips thrust forward, entering you to the hilt, his balls pressed against your ass. He managed to let out a strangled, “sorry,” as he rested inside you, unmoving. You had gasped at the sudden movement, but now with him still, pressing incessantly into your g-spot, you were beginning to gyrate your hips, encouraging him to begin to move. His hands had come to rest beside your head, holding his body over yours as he slowly brought his hips back before thrusting into you. You moaned loudly as his body met yours. The pace he started was slow, purposeful. One of his hands moved to cup your jaw, bringing your lips to meet his in an almost loving kiss. He was holding back, not wanting to speed up for fear of hurting you. You seemed to not care as you pulled your lips back from him. Your gaze met his, it was hard and determined. “I’m not a doll, John. I'm not gonna break.” You brought your lips to his ear, the brush of them sending shivers down his spine as you whispered, “been waiting for this for months. Fuck me like you mean it.” You barely had time to draw back before he began to pound into you, his pace unrelenting. The moans leaving your mouth were heavenly, intoxicating. He wanted more. He moved his lips to your throat, biting and sucking the delicate skin. The whine you let out when he nipped you particularly hard had him grinning against your neck. He brought a hand up to your tits, tweaking your nipples like he did earlier on the couch, teasing you. He felt you grip down on him whenever he pulled or pinched especially hard. He was panting, both from the physical excretion as well as the overwhelming pleasure. He could hear how wet you were with each thrust, the noises your body made driving him to thrust a little harder. “You were fuckin’ made for me, sweetheart,” he growled out between breaths. As heat coiled in his stomach, he kept remembering what you had said. How you wanted him to cum inside of you, how you’d wanted him for months. He needed to see it when it happened. Needed to see what you’d look like stuffed full of his cum. His thrusts slowed as he shifted off your neck, his hand leaving your chest as he sat up. He removed your legs from his waist and instead lifted them until they rested on his shoulders. When he leaned back down again, his hands came to rest on either side of your head, essentially folding you in half. He gave a hard thrust into you. The new angle made him sink deeper, his cock brushing against your g-spot with each stroke. Even though you felt tight before, now every move he made had you squeezing him. He knew he couldn’t possibly last much longer but he had to make you cum before he did. Had to give you a reason to do this again. You were letting out a steady stream of curses each time he pounded into you. Your hands gripping the sheets, bunching them tightly in your fists. Your eyes were black with lust and your mouth hung open, sweat shone on your forehead and chest. You looked like a fucking angel. John couldn’t help the praise that dripped from his lips. “You’re such a good girl for me, ain’tcha. Taking me so fuckin’ well.” He moved one of his hands to your clit, rubbing it in tight circles. “Wanted you since I first saw ya. Wanted to take ya right on the porch.” “John,” you let out a breathy whine. He kept going, “that day you came over in that stupid sundress. Looked so sweet in it. All dolled up. Wanted to bend you over. Wanted to fuck you until you were screaming my name.” He gave a particularly hard thrust, emphasizing his words. “W-wore it for you,” you managed to get out around harsh moans. He could barely think through the fog of pleasure that permeated his brain. “That’s my girl,” he grunted. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his chest flushed red, sweat beading on his skin. He was so fucking close, for the second time that night. You’d made a mess of him. “Fuck,” your body seemed to be almost shaking with pleasure. “J-John, I’m gonna cum. P-please don’t stop, feels so good.” He kept his pace and seconds later you were clamping down on him like a vice. Your body shook with the waves of pleasure that washed over you. The sensation of you squeezing around him sent him right to the brink of his orgasm. His thrusts became sloppy as he chased his high, his balls drawing up, his pants becoming harsher. “C-cum inside me, John. please,” your worn voice all but begged as your eyes met his. Those words were the final push that threw him over the edge. He thrust once, twice, three more times before spilling inside you. His vision was overtaken by white. He rocked into you as the waves overtook him. He could feel the tingling sensation in his fingertips, in his toes. When he seemingly came back into himself, the sight that greeted him was heavenly. You were spread below him, chest still heaving, bottom lip swollen from kisses and bites. Your hands which had been gripping the sheets now ran up and down his sides, helping bring him back down from the mind-blowing orgasm. He lowered your legs from his shoulders, pulling out of you with a soft grunt. He couldn’t help but watch as his seed leaked from your hole. His fingers moved without thought to stuff his spend back inside you. He only stopped when you let out a slightly pained moan, igniting a feeling of worry in his chest. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to hurt ya.” You smiled and chuckled weakly, “s’okay, just sensitive right now.” He wanted to press a gentle kiss to your temple but couldn’t muster up the courage. He stood up from the bed with a small groan. “I’ll be right back sweetheart, gonna clean up.” He stumbled off towards the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and wiping himself down before tossing it into the hamper. He grabbed another cloth, making sure the water wasn’t too hot or too cold before he wrung it out and returned to the bedroom. You were in the same position as you’d been when he left, but now your legs were closed. He knelt before you on the bed. “You okay with me cleanin’ you up?” you nodded sweetly, your eyes closing as he gently swiped the rag over you. When he was done, he tossed the rag to the side, letting it join the pile of clothes already on the floor. He didn’t want your time together to end, but he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable either and the doubts were beginning to creep in on the edge of his mind. “You, uh, you don’t have to sleep here, with me, if you don’t want,” he started, staring at his hands. “The other room’s still free if you'd like.” When he brought his gaze to yours he was met with something he could only describe as affection. “I’m not going anywhere if that’s alright with you,” your voice was kind as you smiled at him. “Now come to bed, I’m getting cold here all alone.” He couldn’t contain the grin that broke out on his face. He laid down on his back, his arm outstretched, inviting you in. You curled right into his side, your head coming to rest on his chest and he wrapped his arms around you in return, holding you close. Despite just being inside you, the gentle cuddling had him blushing harder than he had all night. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, under a sky of dark clouds, and the steady pounding of rain on the roof, you were his and he was yours. And that was good enough.

I know this was super long for a one-shot smut fic but if you made it all the way through, I hope you enjoyed it! This was my first time writing smut from a man's perspective so I'm sorry if anything was weird. I just love John Marston very much <3 Comments/criticisms are always welcome! Crossposted on AO3 @holyratrimony​ <3333

Taglist: @cowboydisaster​

This fic was inspired by this post by @butchdutch

#john marston #john marston x reader #john marston x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #modern au #rdr2

[wayward-dreamer]

Far From Innocent - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

Word count: 3,976

Summary: Y/N's life is quite simple. She's engaged to be married in a few months, she has the easiest job at Vought American, and she stays out of the drama or away from rumors she's heard around the office. An encounter with Soldier Boy, Vought's most respected hero, quickly changes all of that and she soon realizes that there's more to life than what she's settled for. (Set in the 50s)

Warnings: Angst, swearing, degrading language, typical 1950s misogyny, sexual thoughts, thoughts of cheating, drinking, smoking, drug use, smut (not with reader): threesome, ffm, p in v, oral sex (female receiving), voyeurism

A/N: This was all incredibly fun to write, to the point where it kept getting longer, and therefore I decided to split it up. Next part will be out in a few days. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it and happy reading! beta'd by my darling @hintsofhoney

The myriad of champagne and soft jazz was the only thing keeping Y/N entertained.

Her eyes drifted away from the band at the opposite end of the large foyer, over the guests that were in attendance at whatever gala it was, before they landed on her drink. Picking up the coupe glass, she threw back the remainder of the bubbly liquid as she looked at the bar, longing for something stronger. She wasn’t sure if she should, knowing that her fiancé didn’t like it when she overdid things, but considering he had gone off to smoke cigars with his co-workers, she figured it didn’t really matter. Leaving her glass behind on the table for a waiter to take away, she picked up her purse and made her way across the room, excusing herself as she pushed past some of the guests.

She reached the bar and waited as the bartender served a few other people, opening her purse, taking out her silver cigarette case and holder. She fit the cigarette into the holder and placed it in her mouth, digging through her purse as she tried to find her lighter.

“What can I get you, ma’am?” the bartender asked, as he approached her across the ledge.

Ma’am? What did she look like, 50? “Miss,” she corrected, mumbling around the holder in her mouth, “and an Old Fashioned, please.”

“Sure thing,” he replied, with a firm nod.

“God damnit,” she cursed under her breath as she peered inside her purse, seeing no lighter.

“Make that two,” she heard a rough, deep voice say as it stood beside her.

“Yes sir,” the bartender said, working on the drinks.

She lifted her head to see who had joined her at the bar, and the cigarette holder nearly fell as her mouth hung open. Her eyes widened briefly as she took in green and gold encasing strong muscles, her gaze meeting the green orbs that stared back at her. She cleared her throat as she took the holder from between her lips, smiling widely at the incredible presence in front of her.

“Soldier Boy,” she gasped, laughing lightly as she held her hand out. “It’s a pleasure, sir.”

“It sure can be, sugar,” he smirked, holding up a lighter for her.

She wasn’t completely sure what he was implying, but she felt her cheeks heat up, nonetheless. She leaned forward, letting the small flame burn the tip of the cigarette as she inhaled, blowing out a large puff as she glanced back at him.

“Thank you,” she said, only briefly meeting his gaze. His green eyes were intense as he stared at her, leaning against the dark mahogany of the bar, his own cigarette resting between his fingers.

“A beautiful woman like yourself shouldn’t be getting a drink alone,” he stated, the smirk still present on his unbelievably handsome face. His eyes wandered down her figure, admiring the deep red, off-shoulder pencil dress, the draping cinched in at the waist with a thin belt. “That’s quite a dress.”

“I’m-I’m not alone,” she sighed, the words sounding false considering she didn’t know where fiancé was.

Soldier Boy glanced around and behind her, before meeting her eyes again. “I don’t see anyone else here with ya, doll.”

“I-”

“Y/N!” she heard her name being called just as she was about to give an excuse.

She turned her attention away from the supe for a brief moment, smiling softly as her fiancé walked over to her, a new drink in one hand and a half-smoked cigar in the other. He stepped up beside her, pressing a small kiss to her cheek, just as her eyes quickly flicked up to the other man still standing in front of them.

“Sir, this is-” she began but her fiancé cut her off, offering his hand to Soldier Boy.

“Soldier Boy, it’s an honor sir,” he said, waiting for the supe to give him some sort of acknowledgement. “I’m Jim Nelson, from the Vought production office, we worked on The Soldier Boy Story together.”

“Of course,” he nodded, finally placing his hand in Jim’s, shaking it firmly. “Thanks for all the great work, kid.”

Y/N watched on as Jim touched around his wrist; clearly the handshake had been harder than he expected. She looked between the two men, noting that Soldier Boy’s face was stoic, void of any kind of emotion towards Jim. She took a long drag from the cigarette holder, blowing it out slowly as remained silent, observing as she always did. That’s when you learn the most about people.

“This is Y/N, my fiancée,” Jim finally introduced her, even though she and the superhero were already semi-acquainted. “She works in administration. She just moved up to your floor, actually.”

“Really?” Soldier Boy’s full attention was suddenly on her. He didn’t even bother to hide his delight in learning that fact, the smile returning to his features. “Well, I certainly won’t forget a face as pretty as yours.”

Their eyes met once more, his green orbs still burning with intensity, causing her face to heat up. She felt it move down her neck and into her limbs, the feeling settling low in her belly. She had only felt something like it once before, and it was during a moment of weakness she would rather forget. In that moment, she ignored whatever it was, taking a sip of the amber liquid she still hadn’t touched.

“She is gorgeous, isn’t she?” Jim commented, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist, and pulling her close, looking between the supe and her.

“She is,” Soldier Boy agreed, but he didn’t look towards the other man at all. “I’m glad we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

Her knees almost buckled under his penetrating stare, the warmth continuing to simmer. She didn’t understand why she was feeling this way, especially around someone who wasn’t the man she was marrying in two months’ time. It didn’t make any sense. She suddenly felt Jim’s hand pressing more firmly into her hip, making her look up at his face. He smiled but she could see he wasn’t happy with the attention she had received from Vought’s most respected.

“Well, we really should be going,” he announced, glancing down at her before he looked back at Soldier Boy. “Gotta be back here bright and early tomorrow.”

Soldier Boy said nothing as he sipped his drink, his gaze shifting between both of them. Y/N dropped her eyes to her own drink, barely sipped, but she put it down on the bar knowing that they needed to leave. She fixed her long, white cocktail gloves, picked up her purse and finally looked back at the supe, her arm around her fiancé’s.

“Goodnight, sir,” she said, softly.

He gave her a small nod, watching them make their way towards the exit. They stopped at one of the tables, allowing her to pick up her white shawl and drape it around her exposed shoulders, before they continued towards the other end of the room. Just as they stepped through the archway, Y/N turned her head, their eyes meeting even with the distance between. He lifted up her drink in a salute to her, throwing it back in one shot.

Soon, her vision was blocked by the wall as they continued down the hallway, but her mind was still reeling from the chance meeting of the supe she had always admired.

The car pulled up to the three-storey townhouse, the engine cutting out just as Jim turned to Y/N. She smiled as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, slow kiss. His hand gently cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking across her skin, just the kiss deepened. A low moan escaped her, but she had a brief thought that she hoped things weren’t leading somewhere. She didn’t want to give in again like she did the last time they were together, just a few weeks ago. It was their first time being intimate, and she really wished they had waited like any other couple would have.

Jim’s hand slipped down the back of her red dress, landing on her waist as he pressed himself closer to her. She breathed in deep as their lips were still fused together, cupping her hands under his jaw, as she pulled away quickly.

“I should really go up, my parents are probably wondering where I am,” she said, glancing behind him at the lights on in the windows.

“Don’t you… wanna do it again?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow as he pecked her lips.

She huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. “I really can’t.”

“Come on, honey,” he insisted, planting small kisses along her cheek, her jaw and down to her neck.

“Jimmy,” she sighed, pressing her hands into his suit-covered chest. “Jimmy, please-”

He groaned as he shifted back, a scowl pulling at his features. “We already have once, what’s the big deal?”

She was taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor, seeming genuinely upset that she didn’t want to do anything. She frowned, their eyes on each other as he waited for her to say something that he would consider a good enough excuse.

“Well, it’s like you said,” she muttered, offering him a smile, “bright and early tomorrow, right?”

“Jesus, Y/N,” he whispered, shaking his head in annoyance.

Because it wasn’t good, that’s why she thought as she only admitted the truth of that night to herself. It had started fine, the arousal that had built in their relationship causing things to become heated quickly, their kisses and touches frantic as they laid in the back of his car that night. The steam faded just as quick, however, as it was over before it really even got going. After the initial discomfort, just as she was enjoying herself, Jim was done well before she was. So yeah, it wasn’t good, and she didn’t have the heart to tell him that.

She wondered if things would be better once they were married. She had heard from her friends that their sex lives were incredible, and she had to hope that it all wasn’t one great, big lie. She wanted to experience something overwhelming. All consuming. She wanted fireworks.

And so far… there were none.

“I have to go,” she stated, picking up her purse and reaching for the door.

“Wait, wait,” he mumbled, taking her hand in his just as she turned to face him again. He leaned down and kissed her knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

She sighed, heavily just as their eyes locked. She nodded slowly, quickly moving in to softly kiss his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He kissed her once more before he let go of her hand, allowing her to reach for the car door again. She stepped out and shut the door, her heels clicking against the concrete as she made her to the steps outside the building. She turned once she reached the top, giving Jimmy a small wave before she took out her keys, opening the door just as his car drove away.

As much as she loved him, loved spending her time with him in and outside of work, she really hoped that the next day was busy enough that she didn’t need to see him.

Sometimes she just needed a break.

The work day started like it always did. There was a quick meeting with all the administration staff on what needed to be done for the day, followed by a morning round of coffee and then onto the tasks at hand. Y/N had phone duties and sorting contracts from floor to floor for each of the supes currently in the Vought American payroll. She had already dealt with some of the newcomers in the morning; calling them to sign on the dotted line and seal their fate with the company for as long as it was specified on their deal. Simple as that.

Y/N knew she had the easiest job of the whole administration team. When she wasn’t on phones and contract delivery between hero management and the heroes, she would usually be handling correspondence and ordering supplies, and that was the extent of her duties. She heard rumors of what other employees had to deal with, but she was never sure what the level of truth was to them. Some people gossiped but she wasn’t one to get involved or listen, choosing instead to keep her head down and do the work. She was only one of three secretaries on the 40th floor; in the grand scheme of the company, she had the least high-profile role and she was glad about that.

Around midday, everything was a little less hectic after the mad, morning rush. The phone rang obnoxiously loud, cutting through the silence as she sorted through different files, her manicured fingers quickly picked up the receiver as she continued to glance over the words on the paper.

��Vought American, thank you for your call,” Y/N recited, her usual greeting like second nature at this point. “How may I help you?”

“Uh, yeah this is Mike from hero management. Listen, we’re tryna reach Soldier Boy, but he ain’t answering his phone,” the voice on the end of the line replied. “We need someone to check in at his loft, make sure he’s even there.”

“Well, someone else is going to have to handle that,” Y/N stated, looking down at the time on her watch. “I’m about to take my lunch break-”

“Look, toots, just get a hold of him and send him down to 38, okay? Then you can chow down on your PB&J all you want,” Mike snapped, cutting the call immediately after his words.

She glared at the receiver as the engaged tone beeped repeatedly, rolling her eyes as slammed it back on the holder and caused the dial to chime from the force. The days she didn’t have to deal with corporate assholes were the best, but now thanks to just one the day had the potential of getting worse if she had any more phone calls like that. And now she had to deal with Soldier Boy, something she had never done before, considering he had an assistant who kept tabs on him. So where the hell was she?

Y/N brushed her light blue skirt down as she stood up and pushed her chair under the desk, her heels clicking against the marble floors as she made her way towards the heroes’ apartments. She had only ever been as far as Liberty’s penthouse, never having dealt with the last supe that lived at the end of the hallway. As she reached the door, her eyes wandered over the words “Soldier Boy” written in gold letters, a shaky breath escaping her as she lifted her fist and knocked. She waited a moment as she tried to listen for footsteps, but she heard nothing.

Reaching for the doorknob, she was surprised to find it unlocked as she turned it and opened the door. She peered inside, her eyes widened as she took in the extensive space. Black marble floors with dark wood panels on the walls, black leather sofas in the living area that extended to a large wooden dining table and chairs, and a long, black marble ledge with a bar behind it. The colors of his super suit were in the décor, like the dark green cushions, rug and curtains, gold doorknobs and the huge gold bust of a Bald Eagle with its wings spread, kept on a stand near the shelves of liquor. Slowly, Y/N stepped into the apartment, shutting the door quietly behind her.

As she walked in cautiously, she saw no signs that Soldier Boy was there. She frowned as she passed by the coffee table, remnants of white powder dusted across the black marble, shaking her head in confusion. Her ears perked up as a sudden groan cut through the silence, her gaze landing on the sliding doors at the other end of the room that were left slightly open in the middle. She took a few steps forward, soft moans echoing through causing her to stop in her tracks. She knew what those sounds were. She had made them herself, even if they weren’t quite as lustful as the ones she was hearing.

The moans and whimpers continued to increase in volume but also in number, almost like they were happening at the same time. Y/N knew she should’ve turned around and ran out the door, but she found herself moving towards the room, feeling her heart beating rapidly in her chest. As she reached the small opening between the doors, her eyes widened at the scene in front of her, a tingling sensation running through her whole body and down to her core.

Soldier Boy stood at the side of his bed, a light sheen of sweat across his torso, his hands gripping tight into the flesh of a brunette woman’s hips fully bent over in front of him. He was completely naked as his pelvis smacked the curve of her ass, his muscles flexing as he pounded into her. Y/N’s gaze continued down the woman’s back, shock and something else she couldn’t really decipher coursing through her as she saw her head buried between another woman’s legs, the latter on her back as she cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples. Y/N couldn’t see the brunette’s face, but considering the supe’s assistant had the same hair color, she assumed that Sherry was the one in the middle.

Y/N wasn’t sure how much time had passed with her standing there, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave. Everything seemed to be moving slower, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip, her thighs squeezing together under her skirt the longer she watched. She gulped as she saw the way Soldier Boy moved, his touch hard and rough as his hand tugged at the roots of her hair and pulled her up. Her eyes squeezed shut as his other hand slid around her waist and between her legs, a shrill cry falling from her lips as her head fell back against his shoulder. The blonde woman on the bed sat up, leaning forward and letting her tongue roam over Sherry’s skin, softly sucking at the hard, rosy buds.

The longer Y/N stood there, the more she wished she could find herself in a similar scenario. The position was intricate, intimate but it was far from innocent, and lately… that was exactly what she wanted but had never admitted to anyone but herself.

Soldier Boy grunted as his pace sped up, his eyes on the women in front of him but they briefly drifted away. His gaze focused on the doors directly ahead of him, catching the glimpse of blue he could see through the crack in the door. His eyes met Y/N’s, causing her to gasp as she had finally been caught. As he thrusted into the woman in front of him, her moans getting louder with each one, he ignored her as he continued to keep his eyes locked on Y/N. His lips pulled up into a grin, unaware of how long she had been standing there, but enjoying the attention. He winked at her as a deep, husky chuckle left him, his stare unwavering.

Y/N jumped back, her brain finally snapping back into action. Her heel squeaked against the marble as she turned quickly, her shoes clacking against the floor as she rushed out the door and slammed it behind her. She ran down the hallway, halting to a stop as she got to the corner, walking to the desks at a normal pace as she tried to calm her racing heart. There was no way to unsee what she just witnessed, and in some way she didn’t want to. Just as she reached her desk, Jim walked down the opposite hallway, beaming once he saw her.

“Hey,” he greeted, kissing her cheek as he reached her. “Ready for lunch?”

“Uh…” she cleared her throat, nodding quickly as she glanced at her watch. “Yeah, yeah, let’s get outta here.”

He frowned, cupping her cheek as she looked up at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, smiling softly. “I’m good.” She wasn’t, but what else was she supposed to say after what just happened?

“Alright,” he said, offering her his arm. “Let’s eat.”

Y/N picked up her purse, looped her arm through the top handle as she pulled on her white gloves, checking the buttons on her matching blue jacket before she turned to her fiancé. She hooked her arm around his and let him lead the way towards the elevator.

She was glad that she had something for balance, her mind far too preoccupied with everything she had seen.

Y/N sat in front of the mirror at her dresser, staring blankly as she brushed her hair in leisured strokes. Her brain hadn’t been able to focus for the rest of the day at work, and on the walk home from the subway she missed her street and kept walking, eventually realizing and turning back. Flashes of him with those women kept tormenting her, teasing her with things she hadn’t thought she wanted until she saw it right in front of her. She loved Jim, and she had to believe that things would get better in the bedroom once they were married, so she really had no right thinking about what she saw Soldier Boy doing with Sherry and the other woman.

And yet, it had been hours since it had happened, and she still couldn’t stop thinking about it. She couldn’t stop thinking about how rough he had been, how his muscles rippled with every move, how hard he was thrusting into her…

She shook herself out of her trance, putting her hairbrush down and pulling her curlers in front of her. Having mastered rolling her hair within twenty minutes, she was done within that time and tied a scarf around her head to keep them in place overnight. She applied cream to her face and stood up, climbed under the covers of her bed and turned off the lamp on the nightstand. She adjusted her head against the pillow as best as she could with the curlers, staring up at the ceiling through the darkness in the room. As she closed her eyes, hoping to drift off into a deep slumber, images of Soldier Boy began to flash through her memory.

She groaned as her eyes snapped open. She turned her head, looking up at the phone on her nightstand. She bit her lip as she wondered whether she should call Jim, hoping that talking to him might help her forget what happened that morning. She shook her head and closed her eyes once more, knowing it was quite late to be calling. Her mind continued to torture her, but instead of ignoring it, she let herself be swept away.

The exhilaration she felt with seeing him in the act, it was far better than whatever she had felt when she and Jim had succumbed to their desires. No matter how much she told herself it would get better after marriage, there was a part of her that knew it wasn’t true. No matter what she felt from her fiancé, there was no way he was capable of what Soldier Boy was.

She wanted to know what it felt like, to experience that kind of intensity and passion. That should’ve scared her, but it didn’t. What actually scared her was the fact that she didn’t want those things with her fiancé.

She wanted those things with Soldier Boy.

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[svt-nari]

times the e word was mentioned near nari (enlistment

a compilation of people mentioning jeongcheol’s upcoming en******** and nari not taking it well…

in the soop ver. season 2

nari was sitting on the couch, her airpods on while she listened to a true crimes podcast. she was concentrated, her eyes fixed on the ceiling while she nodded to some of the words spoken through her earphones. she was alone for the most part, though, when the podcast was coming to an end, vernon appeared to sit down near her.

“what are you doing?”, he asked her while throwing himself on the space by her side. she looked at him and grinned, lighting up her phone screen so he could see it. vernon nodded, closing his eyes and just enjoying the moment.

when it finally ended, nari’s hand went to the younger man’s hair, playing with the strands while hansol opened his eyes to look at her.

“do you want to talk? you look serious.”, nari pointed out, fingers massaging his scalp. vernon sighed and sat up, nari doing the same when she saw his expression. “hey, nonie-ah, what’s wrong?”

“i’ve just been thinking about the future…”, he looked at her. “you know… coups and jeonghan hyung having to enlist and all… like, how are we going to be. it’s not gonna be the same without them. you get it, right?”

when he got no response, vernon got concerned. nari’s head was tilted down, she was playing with her fingers while biting her lower lip. when she looked up he could see her eyes filled with tears that she was holding back from spilling.

“i hate thinking about it…”, she sniffled, taking a deep breath in. “like… two years is a long time, just thinking about not always being with them after a decade is so weird. i hate it.”, and then the waterfalls started. tear after tear rolled down her cheeks.

vernon panicked; he just said his thoughts, nothing too serious. nari herself had asked him what he was thinking and he was upset with the thought, she was trying to comfort him. though, now, it looks like she’s the one in need of comfort.

“hey, noona.”, hansol held her hand, making her look at him and wipe her tears away, sniffling. “we are going to be okay, trust me. they will be okay and you two will also be okay, trust me.”

weverse live

during one of nari’s date nights with the fans — in which she does a live while having dinner, all dressed up with some candles lit up around the room — someone decided to talk about seventeen’s future in the comments. needless to say: a big mistake – especially with nari.

‘i’m so scared of next year… coups enlisting and everything… how do you feel about it?’, that, a question as simple as that made the woman stop to think about every single one of her life choices.

“oh… i don’t know what to say…”, she pouted, her forehead wrinkling due to her eyes getting watery, nari took a deep breath, her mind far away as she thought about their enlistment. “it’s- it’s a difficult topic to talk about…”, she breathed out, closing her eyes quickly to not cry in front of the cameras. “i don’t want to talk about it until it happens.”, she concluded, eyes and mind drifted far away from the phone she was using.

backstage of music bank

seventeen was joking around in their dressing room at music bank. nari’s head rested peacefully against chan’s shoulder as he played on his phone, chuckling occasionally from listening to the older members’ conversation.

out of nowhere he laughed out loud, throwing his head back while thrusting his phone on nari’s face so she could see what made him laugh like that. when she looked, her smile dropped instantly, a frown and pout appearing instead.

“ya! what is this? why would you do this?”, she whined, putting the phone back on his lap and laying her head on the armrest, her headphones tight on her head. nari hid her head against the back of the couch, her back facing the other members.

everyone looked at dino worryingly, trying to get him to say what he did wrong. the boy could only shake his head, just showing them the image he had edited — a bald seungcheol. they all had frowns on their faces, except the boyfriend himself. he just sighed, getting up and throwing her on his shoulder, getting out of the room so they could talk more privately, the others chuckling as they saw nari’s upside down confused face.

“baby.”, cheol started, his hands holding hers tightly. they were in a deserted hallway near the bathroom, a quiet place so they could talk peacefully. “you know you can visit me, right?”, he caressed the back of her hands with his thumbs, holding eye contact with the girl.

she pouted, clearly upset with the thought. “i know that, but it’s not the same…”, nari sniffled. “we aren’t going to sleep in the same bed, i won’t be able to get your hugs and kisses any time i want them, i won’t be able to talk to you whenever i want and most of all; i know i’ll miss you a lot. it’s been more than ten years already, you’ve been in my life for almost half of it — i can’t imagine being without you.”, as she finished, the hwang girl buried her face on the older boy’s neck, his collarbone getting slightly damp due to her tears.

from then on, seungcheol promised himself to try his hardest to be able to talk to her everyday when he has to go to army and reserve a special time just for her — and, most importantly; never talk about it if it’s not necessary.

knowing bros

for the first time ever, nari went to a variety show completely alone. she was promoting her first solo album and, to bring more attention to it, why wouldn’t she go to one of the most famous variety shows amongst the industry?

as she was doing the ‘guess about me’ segment, one of the things she asked was ‘what i hate the most?’ and, from then on, it was just pure chaos.

some of the members yelled silly things like ‘breaking your nail’, or ‘sleeping with the warm side of the pillow’ going as far as saying ‘having to poop after a shower’ — which made nari go feral with laughter. tho, amongst all the silly things they were saying, someone (cough, kyunghoon, cough) decided to say a serious thing, which dropped the whole mood.

“being away from the loved ones!”, he exclaimed with a smiley face. nari’s smile lessened and she nodded, adding a ‘i also hate it, like a lot. but it’s not the right answer’ and that just made them curious. so, heechul decided to ask her about it.

“have you ever been away from a loved one besides moving out from your parents’ house?”, an innocent but deep question.

“no, but i’ll be in not too long.”, she said, looking over the papers in her hand to not maintain eye contact. “two of my members, my family, are going to enlist next year…”, she sighed. “i can’t imagine being without them, they have been my best friends since forever. it’s weird to even think about it.”, she pouted.

they all nodded in understanding and decided to change the topic to a lighter one, so the girl could cheer up and not think about it – which happened and in less than three minutes nari’s face was back to red due to her laughing.

nothing much prepared ep. 20

as nari drank more and more with youngji, her thoughts also started to get more and more depressive. nari turned into a drunk hoshi whenever she drank, she would get emotional and cry over the littlest thing in the world.

when youngji gave her a paper to draw on, she started to cry. youngji got so startled that she started to murmur and even hugged the older girl when she asked for it, patting her hair and looking wide eyed to the camera and the staffs because she had no idea of what to do whatsoever.

nari went as far as hiccups, she wasn’t even able to talk properly due to how much she was crying. youngji then got her a cup of water and a bowl of soup so she could get a bit more sober. when she was finally able to stop crying the sighed, wiping her face dry. the staffs couldn’t help but coo over her beauty even after crying a river.

“i’m so embarrassed right now…”, she murmured to herself.

“you should be,” youngji joked, earning herself a joking glare from nari.

“it’s just… these sad thoughts. my head went to the day cheollie and hannie will have to enlist and it drives me nuts.”, she pouted, swallowing back the tears threatening to escape once again. “i can’t even imagine being one week away from them, then out of nowhere we’ll be- we’ll be-,” then she started crying again. “away for two years!”, and youngji just sighed, hugging her once again to comfort her older friend.

all rights reserved © svt-nari, 2023

#🪷: nari misc #🪷: nari + cheol #seventeen 14th member #seventeen female addition #kpop addition #kpop added member #seventeen female oc #seventeen female member #seventeen oc #seventeen fourteenth member #seventeen x oc #svt female member #14th member of seventeen #kpop!oc #kpop!au #kpop oc #kpop female addition #kpop female oc #kpop female member #kpop original character #svt oc #svt x oc #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt au

[bunniefaery]

I saw this article calling Sasuke a Villain and how the live-action shouldn't include his "villain" arc, because it "felt tedious and too convoluted to the bigger narrative" and instead they should make him a pivot for the fight against the Otsutsuki...

Did this person watch the anime or read the manga?

Article from CBR, Title: The Naruto Live-Action Movie Doesn't Need To Adapt This Villain Arc

1. Protect Konoha from what? The Uchiha wanted to end the discrimination and oppression they were facing at the hands of the higher ups... (Not to mention that when Kurama attacked the village (under genjutsu, when Naruto was born), and during the konoha crush, no other villages went to attack the Leaf after the events)

2. Most people would hate growing up alone, and why was that sentence in bold?

3. Sasuke didn't find out about the true reason Itachi did what he did, until after Itachi died, as well as the real reason behind said Coup... as far as I am aware. And why wouldn't he want revenge against Konoha (specifically the 3 people who are left that caused all of his trauma and the uchiha genocide, it'd be 4 but the Sandaime Hokage was already dead by this point in the story)

4. What "wars" against Madara and Obito? There was only 1 War against them, the 4th great ninja war, that lasted 2 days a.k.a. approximately ~212 episodes, including filler (volumes 55 through 59 in the Manga, according to google)

"Naruto and Sasuke were reincarnations of her sons (Ashura and Indra, respectively)"

Okay, so the author didn't watch nor read Naruto...

Indra and Ashura Otsutsuki are not Kaguya's sons... they are her grandsons 👁️👄👁️ Homura and Hagoromo Otsutsuki are her sons...

I feel like the author doesn't know much about Kaguya either, if they did they'd know her story.

"The advantage of Sasuke being a rebel without defecting from Konoha is that Naruto would have the help needed to fight the big villains of the franchise: the Ōtsutsuki."

When the time came, was Sasuke not helping Naruto with that? 🧐 And why shouldn't he had defected from Konoha? What good could they do for him?

Why does Sasuke need to be convinced to return home, when his home was taken from him by this "home" the author speaks of, that "home" being Konoha? Why should he return to the place that treated his people so poorly that they felt they no other choice but to do a coup against the people in charge of Konoha only to be wiped out for daring to stand up for themselves after years of oppression...?

Konoha, specifically Danzo, the third hokage, and 2 hogake advisors, forced Itachi to wipeout his whole clan, excluding Sasuke, and then blamed him for it. They swept what they did under a filthy rug, that already had many skeletons piling up, and acted like he was the most evil person... He was a child and he was forced to do that and to become a fugitive by the old people in charge, who had no business being in charge of Konoha since there should've been a 5th Hokage by then... (regardless if Itachi regretted it or not, which he never really does)

I won't say it...😇

"Sasuke could learn more about how Indra developed a dark side, which passed down to the Uchiha, while Ashura's light gave way to the Senju and Uzumaki (Naruto's family) clans"

1. While I do agree that Naruto should've learnt more of the Uzumaki (and the Namikaze), besides finding out they excelled in Sealing Jutsus, had very long lives and were a bit savage (it wasn't in-depth at all, and there is no one to teach him, since the Uzumaki are also victims of genocide (in which Konoha did not help protect them) and well, I don't know what happened to Minato's people)

2. And that Sasuke should've learnt more of his people (but how was he going to, when he was the only one left at age 7/8?)

3. Indra's dark side... it wasn't passed down, nor did it emerge until his father gave his little brother the title of successor and expected him to follow without questions, having his birthright taken away because he was more introverted than his little brother whom their father called "the flunky useless dropout younger brother" (according to a panel I saw). And implied, at least to me, that ninjustu was created for wars and all things evil (Indra created ninjustu when he was just a child). ah yes his dark side the Uchiha inherited, that darkness of wanting to be treated like people and with respect in the village they helped make.

4. Kushina calls the Uzumaki, among other things, a bit savage. Batsuma Senju punched Hashirama for being angry/sad that his little brother died, saying he was disrespecting his brother (and him) by basically questioning the system. Tobirama is a Senju, who was not shy about his hatred and prejudice against the Uchiha Clan (he is after all the founder of the bigoted psuedo science that was the "Curse of Hatred" the Uchiha are supposedly afflicted by, a clan that according to him is cursed and called Sasuke "a brat possessed by Uchiha evil") and that's on Ashura's "light" that gave way for his descendants, the Uzumaki and the Senju, "a clan of love~"🥰

Right, because he wasn't a pivot to the story, nor did his and naruto's story have any "heart and impact"... Right...

At some point, I wonder if some of this article is just satire 😅

#pro sasuke #anti sasusaku #sasuke uchiha #sasuke #naruto #anti konoha #anti danzo #anti hiruzen #pro uchiha #naruto article #anime article #naruto live action #Naruto live action article #I don't like SasuSaku but I do like Sakura she's a good villainess disguised as a heroine #anti naruto ending #anime #anime and manga #I had go write this twice because Tumblr wouldn't save the first draft 😭 #uchiha clan #uchiha massacre

[giuliadesu]

𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨 | han jisung

kpop | giuliadesu

fem!reader ⍛ hurt/comfort; depression, insecurity, anxiety ⍛ 1k w

volcano by han

sometimes, being friends with jisung was hard. it didn’t have to do with the fact that he was an idol known worldwide, often busy with promotions and concerts, no. after knowing and witnessing firsthand some of the darkest days in his life, you made it a point to never show him your weakest side, the one prone to depression and self-loathing; you didn’t want him to worry over your wellbeing when he needed to focus on his own things to be happy. you tried your best to be a little ball of sunshine whenever you spent time together, allowing the boy to either bask in the warmth you hoped to give him, or to soak it up whenever the darkness started creeping up on him.

but it was hard nonetheless, especially when you were the one being dragged back into the darkest recesses of your mind.

you had been back in seoul for a coupe of months now, after spending half a year abroad for a job opportunity, and jisung decided to drop by to finally spend some time together — it had been far too long for his likings.

he noticed something was off whenever you called or facetimed, yet the idea of asking you directly never seemed good; after all, the last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable.

now that you were home, though, jisung decided that the best way to deal with whatever was going on through that pretty head of yours was cuddling while watching your favourite anime. maybe he was being a bit selfish, but he missed his little sunshine.

“do you think it’s okay to be this insignificant?”

your voice was muffled from where you were resting against his chest. jisung glanced down, noticing how your small hands were tightened up into small balls over his hoodie.

“but you are not insignificant.”

he felt your body become tense against his, yet silently waited for the rest of the rant he hoped would come.

“… not being able to get a job, dropping out of university, being stuck inside this body and in this life — it’s not much of an accomplishment or stuff to be proud of.”

he stayed silent, carefully considering what you’d just shared. why did you never tell him any of this? was this the reason why you where so thin now, compared to when he dropped you off at the airport all those months ago? had you been starving yourself because of stress and depression?

“at the end of the day, the people around you are not going to care about all that, you know?”

he perceived anger boiling through you.

“but i do. at the end of the day, i am the one having to deal with all of this-”

“-and you are so, so, so strong for that.”

he smiled and cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. the sight of your pretty eyes rimmed in red from the tears you were holding back was painful, he could feel his heart clench.

“you don’t even know how proud i am of you. you still made it through, you are making it through!”

one tear, then another; one sniffle, then another. crying in front of han wasn’t on your to do list for the day, yet the sincerity of his words and the warmth of his gaze cut right through your heart. you buried your face in the crook of his neck, holding him tight. he held you back with equal strength, allowing your trembling body to shake all it wanted.

“i’m sorry for not realising sooner what was going on, i should’ve taken a plane to reach you when i started suspecting something was off. but you are not alone, ‘kay? please, rely on me! i want to be by your side when you’re feeling like this, i want to help you see the beauty in and around you. i- i want to make you happy…”

you could feel your heart stop, then beating again like crazy. why did he have to say something like that now of all times?!

“it’s not your fault, ji… i just shut off everyone, i felt ashamed of my own feelings and responsible for all that was going on. i kept wondering how someone like you could stand to be around me, i mean, look at you! a successful music producer and idol, an all-rounder in your field, an amazing person… you could have literally anyon-”

“-but i want you. i am the person i am now because you were by my side when everything went dark. you were my sun, you embraced all my scars and imperfections, turning the tide so that all my cons are pros now. you were next to me when i had panic attacks, you were hugging me whenever i was crying. how could i love someone else the way i love you?”

you finally looked up. his eyes were glossy, shining from a flutter of emotions.

“like a volcano, love at a temperature that can melt when touched take me to you, way below to the end of the ground it’s okay if everything burns down even if i go back hundred of times, my choice is always you, so i can melt into you hug my body even if it hurts, it’s okay among the cold and harsh waves i need your heat, you are my volcano”

“that song was for you. i wrote it with you in mind all those years ago when i realised you were more than my best friend.”

he chuckled, stroking your head before moving some strands aways from your face.

“you really are a volcano: you bottle everything up for the longest times, then you explode. sometimes it’s a big event, loud and scary; other times it’s the gentle flow of lava, still scary yet fascinating to look at, with your eyes red with unshed tears.”

his hands found your cheeks again, and you let yourself melt at the contact.

“if i am a volcano, then you are the ground that supports me — anytime, anywhere.”

the kiss was slightly salty from the tears you both let out, but it was perfectly imperfect like the both of you.

i’ll protect you, it’s okay to hurt; i’ll embrace the wounds you shed.

© giuliadesu. please do not copy, translate, use in videos or reupload on other platforms and sites. it is strictly forbidden to feed any part of my content to ai.

#𝐤𝐩𝐨𝐩 #𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 #𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠 #𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨 #kpop #kpop x female reader #kpop x reader #stray kids x female reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids #skz x reader #skz #skz imagines #han jisung #jisung x reader #jisung x female reader #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you

[dkakapizzaboy]

Bend it like_

Masterlist|| Taglist Form

Category: SMUT (MINORS DNI)

Pairing: Seungcheol x Fem! Reader

Words: idek, wrote it straight here, maybe 400-ish

Warnings: Not proofread, Basically filth, jealousy, oral (m receiving), bondage( reader’s hands are tied),reader is called baby, Mean Dom Coups I think

A/N: It just all started from the image below the cut(it’s too big and blurry to include at the top). I didn’t know what to name this so…

@onlymingyus , you did this.

Taglist: @junhui-recs @drunk-on-dk @wonuhour

Imagine Seungcheol fucking you from behind. You bent over, his fist holding a handful of your hair tightly as he pounds his thick cock into you from behind.

You were especially bratty that day, unnecessarily giggling over Seokmin ’s silly jokes, flirtatiously touching his arm time and again just to get Seungcheol riled up. You were still hiding your relationship from your friends, so Seungcheol couldn’t do much other than grind his teeth and yell at Gyu for accidentally stepping on his foot to release some heat.

So, the second he got the chance to get you alone after everyone had left, much to your anticipation and delight, he made you get down on your knees, and fucked your face until you swallowed every last drop of his cum after he came. Oh, also, he had tied your hands behind your back so you wouldn’t “accidentally” give yourself some relief during the act.

If you thought he was finished there, you were grossly mistaken. As you were coming back to your senses, he pulled you to your feet and flipped you around, so your back was facing him. He got down on his knees this time, kissing and sucking everywhere but the place you actually wanted him to touch. You try to wiggle your body so that your pussy gets some contact with his face but he just spanks your left cheek and uses his hands to hold you in place.

“This is exactly what you get baby, when you pull shit like this.” He growls from between your legs.

At first you were having fun, seeing Seungcheol all riled up and fucking your face, but as he continued denying you your orgasm purposefully, you grew more and more frustrated and needy.

“For fuck’s sake Seungcheol, okay, what I did was wrong. Will you fuck me now?”

Seungcheol smirks and bites your inner thigh, his nose almost touching your core and you let out a whimper.

“Nope. You gotta beg baby, beg for what you want”

He knows he’s pushing your buttons. He also knows you crave an orgasm. Fuck it, fuck your pride.

What you, on the other hand, don’t know is that all his teasing hasn’t riled only you up. He’s painfully hard, and praying for you to break first, because he’s going to fuck that pretty little pussy, even if you don’t end up submitting to his demands.

“Will you pretty please fuck m-”

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence.

The image in question:

#svthub #svt fic #svt smut #scoups #seventeen #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen fic #seventeen smut #scoups x y/n #scoups x you #scoups x reader #Seungcheol #choi seungcheol #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol x reader #sam writes svt

[sculptorofcrimson]

Inspired by @sister-calliope !

Forgive me, a collection of random thoughts where I’m rambling again on traitor!Valdor…

Can't even focus(oof), I must be getting old…

~~~~~~~

Ramblings about Traitor!Valdor 

The most loyal of his servants, turned to treachery.

As a final insult, he kept the Apollonian Spear. 

So he could know forever what he could have had, what he could have dreamt, but never attaining it. Feeling human only when he kills, feeling joy siphoned from a dying Loyalist’s mind, feeling happiness only in the scant few seconds between one kill and the next. 

Maybe he’ll fight against the Emperor. Maybe he’ll die just like how the Thunder Warrior Primarch died, marching to battle with a doomed coup, knowing they’re here to slay him, knowing he’s here to die.

Maybe he’ll flee into the Webway. Maybe he’ll become the dreaded King in Yellow, but instead of reining in his efforts, instead of obeying his master’s will, the former Custodian will become blasphemy incarnate, here to break His throne. 

Or maybe Valdor will win the Blood Games, for one last time. He was His bodyguard for millenia, he knows when He’s vulnerable, he knows when He dies. The Emperor dies not with a scream or a warcry or a glorious, fateful death, but in silence, smothered by the hand of His formerly beloved servant turned assassin. The Shadowkeepers will tear him apart, of course, limb from limb and shred his auramite plate from plate, but He’ll be dead. 

Or maybe, just maybe, Valdor would do nothing at all. He’ll simply leave, his duty complete, the Custodes forever wondering what became of him, what became of the greatest of the Ten Thousand? Maybe he won’t try to avenge the dead. They’re dead, after all, and his sins would never be expedited. What use is vengeance to a dead man? Valdor is merely a sentinel, charged with observing while others acted. He had watched while the Cataegis were born, while they died, while he betrayed them. To watch, to wait to act, but this act will never come, this lost servant will never come home. Maybe he’ll settle down, in a distant cold star, reminding him of what he lost to gain the powers he had. Was the bargain worth the price? Was it truly worth the price? 

The First Custodian once lead the golden, he once served a god-king, before whom His words could fell an army. Now he walks alone, watching and waiting for a time that will never pass, clad not in armor but in furs and iron. The cycle ends where it began, beneath frost and winds so like Maulland Sen he could sometimes almost-dream of the thunder and the iron, that his perfect memory could fail him and he could almost remember what it felt like to dream, to be a young creature again, so full of ambition and possibility and words before the Emperor had laid down His claws. 

And finally, maybe he just might come crawling home. The old dog, having his fill of adventure and obedience, the prodigal general limping home with his head bowed and neck bared. Because what else did Valdor know? In truth, he do not really know where else he could go. He wanted nothing, he lived for nothing, he desired nothing save that of his lord, and that too was gone, by his own betrayal. 

He lived for the Emperor. He’ll die by Him too. 

Staggering home, his armor charred and cracked and missing in pieces, the Apollonian Spear dragged behind him like the limp tail of a dog who no longer wished to fight. They’ll bind him in chains and drag him before his former master like the traitor he is, and Valdor, obedient once more, no longer resists. The Emperor drags him home, and Valdor, quietly, without protest, without even a trace of hatred one would have expected from a traitor, accepts his endless penitence with grace.

He will never be forgiven. Not when he had betrayed Him so thoroughly, not when his sin could only be expedited in blood. The Emperor no longer utters the name “Constantin Valdor” with such adoration, in fact, He no longer utters his name at all. For a hero to be born, they must be preserved, their stories written in blood for a lifetime. Yet, till eternity ends, not a single soul would hear the name “Valdor” within the Imperium, even though he had fought and bled so vehemently for the Imperium. He will cease to matter, when his very deeds fade from the Imperium’s memory. Because while his penitence will never end, and the formerly glorious Captain-General will never be forgiven.

Some say that, for the great sin of his treachery, the Emperor removed all traces of insubordination from His favored servant. Some say He removed even what remained of Valdor’s soul, to ensure he would never be free again. For all He had taken from him, he still had plenty to lose, plenty the Emperor could seize within His golden claws and rip away.

Some say the mute Captain-General no longer speaks, in fact, he no longer communicates for fear of whatever heretical taint had led him down such a cruel path. Not a single word save a nod or bow for his lord. Nothing left of the man once known as Constantin Valdor, nothing behind those dead eyes except for resignation, resigned in the same way a badly beaten dog shows its belly, nothing left except for obedience in a mind too broken to even hate. Nothing more than an automaton marching on an endless crusade. A crippled bird, that having tasted freedom, still chose the bars of its cage.

#Constantin valdor #what if #au #warhammer 40k #wh40k #warhammer #traitor!valdor #traitor au #adeptus custodes #just a bunch of assorted ramblings #sculptor of crimson #warhammer writing prompts #custodes

[anarchy-and-piglins]

I got stuck in 2 hours of traffic and got an AU Idea.

Dark SBI because I'm nothing if not consistent.

TW: character death (he gets better, though. Or, well, he reincarnates. Techno is just temporarily dead.)

Anyways, the whole world knows one truth.

God is Dead.

Or, at least, the being people remember as god is dead.

They all argue on the how and the why and the when and the who. But every culture agrees that the only god that walked the earth is dead.

And he took magic with him.

Modern time, archeologists discover an ancient underwater temple, absolutely gorgeous and in its original state. Sending robots down, they discover this one room that MUST be important. It's locked up. And it has these strange markings on it that remind them of texts on magic. But magic is gone, so they aren't worried.

Turns out, they should've been worried.

Because god was not dead.

He was imprisoned.

Philza, the one revered as a god, had once ruled the world. Completely. Wholely. His magic and might prevented anyone from standing against him.

Of course, he didn't do it alone.

His best friend was human. A master swordsman who literally did not CARE about knowing magic. That could be Philza's thing. He was a strategist, a scholar, a warrior, and a god's best friend.

He was Technoblade.

Technoblade would refuse his friend's insistence that Technoblade become immortal, uninterested in playing life on easy mode. Besides, he already couldn't be beat. Technoblade never dies, he didn’t need magic.

A coup happens, unthinkable. But Techno is getting older. Slower. So he gets caught. And the conspirators use that against Philza. Technoblade will die or Philza will consent to being bound.

It's not a hard choice for Philza.

But, as they are shutting the doors on his tomb, one conspirator grins and slits Techno's throat, leaving Phil's final view of his friend being Techno dying.

When Philza is released, he is FURIOUS. Thousands of years have only made his wrath grow.

The death toll approaches millions, before someone who knows even a fraction of the ancient language is able to convince Philza to talk to them. But, the language is OLD. It is HARD to communicate in a LONG DEAD language.

Philza doesn't calm down, but he ceases his rampage. And then he notices the faint trace of his friend's soul, somewhere in the world. He can't tell where, but it's THERE. Techno has been reincarnated. He tells the interpreter that his revenge will only end when they bring him the person he needs.

The remains of the human government agree because what else can they do?

But, ancient language, you know. Unfortunately, somethings get lost in translation.

Translator thinks that Philza is mad at Technoblade and wants to murder him.

So all the governments think the same.

When Philza gives them a description of the person, the governments start a MANHUNT. When everyone promises Phil that they will find Techno, Philza is pleased and actually retreats to create a palace worthy of his friend. Somewhere he can keep him safe.

Technoblade is not feeling very safe when he sees his face on the TV, claiming that he is now WANTED. He literally has 1 semester left. Just One. And then he would graduate college. He already spent money on the GRE, applied to graduate programs.

What was he supposed to do with this?!?!?!?

It's a good thing he always liked camping.

Techno FLEES. Gets off the grid as soon as possible. He can't trust ANYONE. Finds an old abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere and settles in. He is NOT going to get murked by an ancient god that's not going to happen.

Years pass, Techno is not found. Philza is getting antsy. The governments are getting nervous. Especially when cults start popping up, fanatics on every corner crying wolf about ever person VAGUELY looking like Techno.

It's some teenage campers that get him caught.

They had lost their way in the woods and stumbled across Techno and his cabin. Techno tries to hide his face, his hair, any identifying features. He thinks he's managed it.

He didn't. They turn him in the moment they get back.

Techno tries to fight back, but what exactly is he supposed to do when he's surrounded by swat teams?

They drag him back in chains to a government facility. Somehow the news gets informed of him being found. It's a media circus as Techno is dragged to the deific palace that Philza has crafted. He is yelled at, things thrown at him, disgruntled cops leaving bruises and scrapes all over him. He's exhausted, starving, dehydrated. He is in awful shape, everyone in the world blaming him for their suffering.

He can barely struggle when he is dragged in front of Philza, forced onto his knees before a throne with his hands cuffed behind his back.

The throne room is quiet.

Silent.

Philza slowly gets up. Approaches near silently as Techno's heartbeat is loud in his ears.

Philza kneels before him, gently tips his chin up to meet his eye.

And Philza grins, his smile brighter than the sun, and presses his forehead to Techno's. Techno flinches because Philza brushes against a sore spot, only then does Philza seem to realize what kind of state Techno is in.

Philza demands answers. The translator and Techno's captors struggle to give him a good answer. An argument starts, the tension thick and Technoblade has been through a lot.

He collapses, Philza catching him.

The steps of Philza's palace are covered in oceans of blood, it dripping down the sides and into the road. The bodies are left for hours, no one brave enough to collect them.

Philza stores Techno deep within his palace, somewhere no one can find him or hurt him. And starts the process of making Technoblade immortal.

Whether he likes it or not.

Anyways, hope you enjoy <3

Curses on you Lenn, you dropped this in my inbox several days ago and it's still all I can think about. The brainrot is real and the urge to write this is big. Vengeful God Philza who is horrific to anybody except his favorite mortal is so good, and combine it with 'has no clue what's going on' just a guy Techno... perfection.

So many fun questions left unanswered:

How does Phil feel about Techno not having his memories? Does it sadden him? Does he try his best to educate Techno about their shared history? Or does he not really care as long as Techno is safe, is his, and can never be taken from him again?

Can Techno even get his memories back? If yes, what happens when he does? How does he feel about them?

How does making somebody immortal work (and can I make Techno whump out of it?)

Once Techno does realize that Philza isn't meaning to kill him, how receptive is he to this new life of his? Is he still going to try and get away (maybe even after becoming immortal) or is he open to trying to befriend Phil? How does Phil react if Techno doesn't want to stay?

Does Phil chill the fuck out once he has Techno back or does the trauma of seeing his bestie die + many years of isolation mean he's kinda permanently in 'if you look at him I'll kill you' mode. Kinda hope it's the latter because then we can go so hard on the dark fluff and possessiveness/protectiveness.

#asks #thoughts #dark sbi #technoblade #philza #there's so much more brain is going brrrr #but I need to chill before I plan a longfic

[theheirofthesharingan]

Hi, so I know you are often using the Itachi Shinden novels as your source for in-depth discussions of Itachi (and other characters, but mostly Itachi), even though a big chunk of the fandom considers them not canon. What is your stance on the validity of the Naruto novels?

Itachi Shinden novels are the most faithful to canon novels, even though they have their own moments of discrepancy. They don't invent new, crucial things that contradict the canon material. Usually, whenever I mention something from the novels, I specify it with 'in the novel it says this", meaning this part doesn't directly come from manga, but since novel mentions it which was alluded to in the original material (or databooks), I'm using it in my analysis. For the most part, though, I take information from them with a pinch of salt.

Nearly everything in the novel was either directly stated in the original text, was alluded to, or just mentioned in the passing, and the novels elaborated on it. They also entirely validate Obito's story of Itachi and the Uchiha clan's oppression by the village.

When Obito says Itachi was used by the system, manga definitely gives us a peak into it in form of Itachi and Danzo scene in Itachi's flashback as well as Itachi and Fugaku scenes in Sasuke's flashbacks. Itachi and his distance from the family and his clan, the reason behind it, and how badly it all affected him.

Itachi was a self-assured kid, who never pitied himself, had confidence in what he did, thought was right and took decisions accordingly. Still he got manipulated by Danzo, and Hiruzen was useless. He was a child even though he himself didn't use that excuse to feel bad about himself. These things are mentioned in manga through Sasuke's interactions with the two men as well as his own flashbacks. The novels explained the process in extreme detail. Denying the novel is canon doesn't change much because it's only an elaboration of what already exists in the story and has been told to us.

Itachi and Shisui's interactions too. Shisui was important to Itachi, so much so that his death forced Itachi to awaken his Mangekyo Sharingan. Denying the legitimacy of the novels as 'not canon' doesn't help much because it didn't invent Shisui and Itachi's bonding and Shisui wasn't just a filler character. What the novel is doing is, it's giving us the story why Shisui was so important to him. Whatever your version of Itachi and Shisui's friendship, the end result is that they were extremely important to each other.

The death scene of Shisui was slightly different in the novel. Shisui commits suicide in manga. And in the novel he convinces Itachi to push him off the cliff. Again, it's not relevant, because it doesn't actually make Itachi a culprit or any less of a victim.

Itachi's relationship with his parents and Sasuke is the core for me in the novel as well as for his assessment as a character. His aloofness from his family, their lack of support, and his gradual descent into the darkness is shown from his point of view. And how Sasuke was used to make Itachi agree to the massacre. It's all available in detail in the books.

There are many things the novel contradicts, but to me the important things are the ones I mentioned above. His closest bonds with his parents, Sasuke, and Shisui. He was brutally used by the system, was alone, and then had to accept a mission that ended his life before it truly began. That's what the novel emphasizes. And that's what matters to me as well.

The novel states Obito was involved in the coup d'état planning and was manipulating Yashiro Uchiha, but there's no concrete proof of it in manga, so we can't say. However, since Obito is sneaking into the village, he definitely would have taken advantage of the coup and carried out whatever he was planning. So whether he was actively involved in the coup isn't as important to me as much his sneaking into the village is.

The people who claim Itachi novels aren't canon are mostly his haters. On one hand they are convinced Obito was lying about itachi being in war as a kid, Itachi being used by the elders etc., is a lie because Obito is an unreliable narrator. The same people in the same breath also fully claim Obito was telling 100000% truth when he told the clan was planning the coup because they were oppressed. Obito's reliability as a narrator is conditional of what they want to believe of his story.

Manga briefly hints to these things, but in detail they're explored in the novel. Plenty of pro Konoha people use manga to "prove" Uchiha weren't oppressed, they also claim novels aren't canon. Then pro Uchiha people who believe Uchiha were oppressed based on the information received from Obito refuse to view novels as canon because novels challenge their hateful opinion on Itachi.

In the end, I personally do not care. I only care about Itachi's novels. I also liked Naruto Jinraiden, but it has very little relation to anything that's mentioned in the original text. The rest of the novels (Sasuke's primarily) are aimed at SS as a ship and its fans. And something to do with Boruto, I guess.

Even then, Itachi's novels are not my primary source of info for analysis, but definitely work as a supplement, especially for Itachi who adds so much to the story, but has very, very little content from the reliable narrators. To each their own, I guess. And I also don't have the energy to argue with people who think otherwise. Whatever makes them happy, haha.

#itachi #itachi uchiha #uchiha itachi #ask #anon #itachi shinden

[facelessxchurch]

Headcanons: The Red Right Hand

• Serpine is one of only a handful of people who ever gained the red right hand and not only bc it's a forbidden technique even among necromancers. Powerful magic like this takes a price not everyone is willing or able to pay. If you want to cause pain, you'll need to endure pain as well.

-> For one, the process of creating the red right hand is excruciating and requires a high pain tolerance and self-discipline.

-> Second, even if the ritual is a success the red hand might not work for its user. For it to function you must have the sincere will to kill and to cause pain. Any second thoughts, hesitations or any other form of reluctance and the technique will fail (think the three unforgivable curses from HP). This is a technique only someone sure of their own sadism would ever attempt to learn.

• That also means that the red hand is safe to touch as long as Nef has no interest in killing you and prevents him from killing anyone on accident.

• Despite that everyone (apart from Mevolent) still gets nervous when he takes the glove off.

• (That's why his coup failed. He tried to kill Mev with his red hand, but when he hesitated it stopped working.)

• Nef always wears a pair of black leather gloves bc wearing one glove would look odd and make him stand out, which could get in the way of him manipulating and charming his way to his goal.

• Even after the ritual is completed the hand will never stop hurting though the pain did dull with time. Nef got used to it eventually.

• But the more he uses the hand the more it hurts (nerfs the hand so he can't just one shot kill everyone). The worse the pain gets the longer it will take him to recover from it. Being masochistic as well as sadistic Nef revels in the pain he has to endure as much as the pain he causes but once it surpasses a certain level he'll require pain-numbing leaves which he always carries for cases like this. If he is desperate enough to use his hand until he himself ends up screaming on the floor, curled around his red hand he is long past the point where pain leaves will help.

• The Red Hand is the ultimate "I will shatter myself to cut you with the shards" which fits Nef and his spiteful, self-destructive tendencies so well.

• While the shadows necromancers use are magic fuelled by death, the red hand is pure death magic.

The Ritual/Learning the Technique

The ritual involved him having to flay his own hand. He needed to do everything himself or it won't work

There is no need to use the right hand for the technique to work. It just happens that Nef is left-handed. For one it would be foolish to do something like this to your dominant hand. But also, flaying yourself is hard enough with your dominant hand, let alone your other. Imagine the strength of will it took for him to calm himself and try to suppress the shaking of his hands as he kept cutting.

During the ritual, the use of anything that would dull the pain is strictly prohibited.

As if being flayed isn't bad enough, he had to coat his hand in a mix of oils and herbs which burned like hell. They prevent the exposed flesh from getting infected or bleeding out and offer the protection that normally the skin would have provided. It also prevents it from healing.

All through the ritual he has to repeat the incantations Tenebrae dictated to him in a magic language he only half understands due to its age and lack of access to the resources he would need to fully understand it despite his best efforts to obtain them.

Unbeknownst to Nef the temples have the missing texts needed to fully learn the language which is how Tenebrae was able to to change the incantations so the red hand would temporarily kill any necromancer it was used on before resurrecting them. This would ensure Skul's survival as well as protect the temples (including himself) from Nef should he decide they outlived their usefulness.

The ritual to learn the technique is written down in the Grimoire of a dark mage and former leader of the Irish Necromancer Temple which is why they still have it long after his passing and can use it without triggering the protection curse placed upon it. The curse is the only reason Nef didn't force them to hand the Grimoire over. He can either deal with breaking a curse or stay friendly with the necromancers. The latter seemed less suicidal.

The Grimoire is presumably still hidden in the abandoned Irish temple somewhere.

#Nefarian Serpine #skulduggery pleasant #red right hand #headcanon #Nefarian Serpine Headcanon #magic