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1kook · 3 years

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skirt chasers — drabble iv

THIS IS A SKIRT CHASERS DRABBLE - FIND THE OTHERS HERE ! SUMMARY Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him. WARNINGS JK POV!!!, attempted solo masturbation, k*ssing, jk’s extensive knowledge of pornos, grinding, cunnilingus, face sitting, spit kink, light choking, praise kink, self nipple play, a love for boobies, unprotected sex, use of the pull out method, i love u kink, its kinda hinted tht oc has a somnophilia kink? not rlly but tagging just in case -_- RATING m (18+) WC 6.3k this can't even classified as a drabble anymore wtf

NOTES i have had this in my drafts since may 3. it is december 21. everyone point n laugh. anyway i very much love stimbo sc jk and i think he’s very cool so here’s a whopping 6k of the inner mechanisms of his big nerdy, college hottie brain <3

He doesn’t notice you’ve drifted off until he’s three solid paragraphs into his semester-long research paper. “Babe, can you toss me my charger it’s over…”

Jungkook swears he’s gonna take every single one of those stupid skirts and burn them to ashes. They had done their duty well, had given him the girlfriend of his dreams, but now they were just pushing their luck. What was once the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend, has now become the bane of Jungkook’s existence. He loathed them, he hated them, he could go twenty million decades without ever seeing them again because the torture they inflicted upon him was borderline inhumane.

Holy fuck, he knew you were gorgeous— hello, he was your boyfriend, thinking you were gorgeous was very high on the list of requirements you searched for in someone of his position —but he’s absolutely positive that you’re probably the sexiest woman he’s ever seen in all his twenty-two years. And Jungkook’s seen a lot of porn. Like, a lot.

He can’t help himself. Before Jungkook knows it, he’s rolling his desk chair over to where you’re sprawled across his bed, skin so soft where it presses against his pillow, lips so plush, and he’s pretty sure there’s a tiny, tiny droplet of drool begging to escape from between your puckered lips. Normally, he’d tease you to hell and back for this, knows how flustered you become when he catches you off guard, but today he lets it slide in favor of focusing on something else about your dozing form.

It’s the soft curve of your hips from where you lay on your side, smooth legs tucked close to you, and that goddamn pleated skirt giving you absolutely no protection from the eyes of the world around you. Luckily, he made sure to lock the door to his room when you came over today. And he’s almost positive Taehyung isn’t home anyway. So there’s no potential roommate to see you here, cuddled against Jungkook’s teddy bear, blue lace panties tucked between your folds.

They were his favorite.

Adorable and soft, and he knows that particular style— the cheeky kind —is your preferred style, because it’s the one he sees almost every time the two of you fuck. Seamless, because you hate when they tug against your skin, and baby blue simply because it was your favorite color. He can’t recall the last time they had been so exposed like this.

God, how many times had this same situation occurred? You dropping by to encourage him to do his homework, before eventually falling asleep and leaving him to his own devices. A lot of times, Jungkook guesses, because each and every time you wake up and nab one of his protein bars from the stash by his bed. Jungkook’s gone through four boxes in the last month.

But how many times had this happened with you in a skirt? Never. This was a rarity.

As the year progressed and yours and Jungkook’s relationship reached new levels of intimacy and adoration, Jungkook is sad to say the skirts had begun appearing less and less. It was winter and, unlike the furnace that was Jungkook’s body, he’s pretty sure you were a cold-blooded reptilian at this point, always leeching off of him for warmth. So since you couldn’t stand the cold, the skirts slowly faded into the background, replaced by Jungkook’s second favorite: the leggings.

He was no complainer, Jungkook respected your decisions! He wasn’t going to pressure you into wearing those cute tiny skirts he loved so much just because it fueled some PornHub-esque fantasy in his brain, especially not as a harsh winter descended upon you and the days became colder. He would not risk a sick girlfriend in the name of a horndog daydream.

But holy mother of pearl, Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him.

Sure he’d seen them every time you guys fucked— duh. But this was not the same. It was different, seeing the tender skin of your inner thigh when he knew you weren’t trying to, your skirt stuck between you and the bed as you shifted about. It was different, knowing he could so easily have you, just flip up the skirt and tug your underwear to the side, not having to worry about fighting your leggings or skinny jeans down your legs. It was different and it was good, so painstakingly good, to have you in the skirt, but the worst part was Jungkook couldn’t even do anything because you were fucking sleeping.

He’d subconsciously pictured you like this for weeks, sprawled out on his sheets in the flimsiest clothing and ready for him to just slide right in, but Jungkook was a good boy—you’d told him as much just last week when he’d paid the bus fare for that ragtag group of teenagers, smiling up at him like he was your entire world. Was he sometimes a little too mean, a little too wild? Yes. But at his core, Jungkook lived for your praise. He couldn’t just stomp on that title you’d so lovingly bestowed upon him, a title he’d worked hard for since!

Furthermore, even if Jungkook wasn’t a good boy, to touch you in your sleep just seemed wrong. You’d mentioned in passing once that you wouldn’t mind as long as it was him (“I’m yours,” you had purred at some party, hand crawling down his abdomen, “your doll, remember?”), but Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to when you were so vulnerable and just… not there. It wouldn’t feel right to use your body when you weren’t awake, and no amount of encouragement from you would change his mind.

So he does what all good boys do and prepares himself for a quick, self-administered handfuck.

Sue him, his girlfriend was hot!

It’d been a little over two weeks since the last time the two of you had fucked, and it was mostly his fault; clinicals and research papers had practically consumed what little free time he had in his schedule. And if Jungkook remembers correctly, he wouldn’t be that lucky this upcoming week either. Something tells him your period was approaching.

Jungkook doesn’t know what type of sorcery you’ve done to him, but in the time you’ve been dating, it’s become increasingly more and more difficult to nut without you. Whether that be fucking you, listening to your voice, or just imagining your pretty face in his head, you held a monopoly over Jungkook’s libido, one that he feared you’d never let go.

He had years stacked on years of browsing PornHub and Brazzers, can recall experiencing some of the craziest orgasms of his life while watching some girl get fucked. All things come to an end. Ever since he started dating you, not even his favorite video could make him hard anymore. Oh, how the great have fallen.

But with your blue panties before him, his cock hardens by the minute, nearly doubles in size when you move about and sigh a heavenly sound. Frankly, he doesn’t feel bad jerking one off to the thought of you. You were his girlfriend! He knows that you know that you’re the main character of all his right-handed adventures, and you’re not going to be mad at him for jerking off to you now. In fact, Jungkook imagines you’d be mad if he’d woken you up just for some frenzied quickie. This way, he’s blowing off some steam and you’re getting an extra ten minutes of napping. Everyone wins.

He’s barely tugged himself out of the confines of his sweats when a soft mumble of his name has his soul leaving his body. “Kook?”

“Baby,” he exhales, immediately tucking himself back into his underwear before moving closer towards you. You roll onto your back, skirt useless as fuck, he thinks, as it sprawls around your waist. “What’s up?” he murmurs, voice gentle, a hand carding through the nape of your neck because that’s how you always wake him up. Jungkook would be a liar to say it wasn’t one of the best feelings in the world.

You say something, but it’s a mess of gibberish and too quiet for him to understand, before turning on your side again and shuffling closer to him. Jungkook smiles, runs the tips of his fingers over your cheek, before moving to caress your back, massaging some feeling back into your muscles. Some more mumbled words, but this time he deciphers them as something along the lines of “c’mere.”

He chuckles, ducking down to kiss your cheek. “Don’t wanna interrupt your nap, baby,” he hums. “Go back to sleep.”

You whine in protest, suddenly catching his hand in yours. “Please,” you sigh, eyes fluttering open, but they’re unfocused as you gaze at him. Jungkook clenches his teeth. Technically he should be working on that twelve page research paper, and even just trying to jerk off right now would have been a huge setback. Crawling into bed with you, where you’re so sinfully laid out for him to take, would completely offset his plans until tomorrow. He had to be a responsible student here.

“I really gotta finish my paper…” he says, trying to let you down as gently as possible, flashing you an apologetic gaze. He thinks he has it in the bag, and your extended silence almost has him rolling back to his desk, when you suddenly snap into action.

“But what about your dick,” you murmur, and Jungkook chokes.

“My what—?” he splutters, voice a little too high.

You say nothing, craning your neck to release a series of cracks, soft huffs leaving your lips. Jungkook’s on edge the whole time, eyes following the movement of your neck, the hypnotizing expanse of skin that bares itself to him. “Saw your hand down your pants,” you say, eyes blinking open, and though they’re droopy with sleep, at least you can hold them open this time.

Jungkook laughs nervously, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You saw that?” A soft hum. He wants to die. “Ah, baby, don’t worry about it. Know you’re tired, so just nap,” he sighs, caressing the back of your head once again, and he thinks he’s finally convinced you so he lets his guard down.

You moan softly, and he’s almost entirely sure it’s one of those waking up types of sounds, the ones you make when you’re stretching around the bed in the morning. “Want your cock.”

Jungkook swears he’ll die, right here, right now.

He groans, lowers his head to rest on the mattress. “Jesus, fuck, baby,” he huffs, has to count to ten to will the stirring of his slowly hardening cock away for the second time that day. “Don’t say stuff like that when you’re half asleep, please.”

You ignore him, the hand that had been wrapped around his wrist tugging him closer. You barely succeed, muscles still so weak, but Jungkook humors you and rolls his chair right beside your head, where he ducks down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Noooo,” you whine when he draws away too quickly.

A laugh blossoms in his chest, and Jungkook proceeds to rain down a series of kisses on your pretty face before he can stop himself. You melt under his touch, his affection, and Jungkook adores the way your body is so soft and pliant like this, back arching towards him after he places a hand on your waist.

“Come here,” you urge, voice a quiet plea. So soft, so needy.

Jungkook malfunctions for just a second before he’s clambering over you on the bed, manhandling your body until you're both on your sides, facing each other, with you pressed tightly to his chest. Even with your hands brushing up and down his back in the way that sends every nerve in Jungkook’s body tingling, and your leg thrown over his hip, some stupid part of him convinces himself you’re just cold, trying to warm up after walking around campus in that tiny little skirt all day. He cuddles you as best as he can.

And even with his dick twitching in his pants and his caveman instincts yelling at him to thrust up into your inviting core, Jungkook remains as professional as someone in a relationship can be when in bed with their lover. He’s so stuck on his self-control that he almost doesn’t hear the snort you muffle against his neck.

“What are you doing?” you laugh, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Jungkook blinks, eyes wide like a doe caught in headlights. “Are we gonna fuck or what?”

He chokes. He doesn’t even try to muffle his reaction like other times, because the way you’re looking at him and the heel you press against the back of his thigh preoccupies his thoughts instead. Your hands are still tracing along his back, melting him with your dainty touches. “Baby?” you question after he’s been silent too long, distracted by the way you use that hooked leg to tug your bodies closer.

“You… you’re still asleep,” Jungkook says, though it’s definitely a question.

You scoff, a smile curling around your features. “Mm, definitely not asleep,” you tease, and shift to push him onto his back, wiggling on top of him until those baby blue panties are pressed against his quickly hardening member. “Why? Wanted to touch me when I was asleep?” you continue, and Jungkook’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets.

“No!” he exclaims, hands clutching your hips in alarm. He can tell he surprises you, because your eyes go wide for a brief second. “Never…” he mumbles afterwards, looking away from your imploring gaze. “Only like you when you’re awake.”

You sigh, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek that makes his heart flood with adoration for you. “You’re a good boy, Jungkook,” you say back, just as quietly. “A blueprint for the perfect man.” Another kiss, this time against the corner of his mouth that makes Jungkook’s hands twitch against your sides.

A soft moan tears itself from his throat, fingers digging into your hips as you slowly roll them against him. The heat emanating from your core seeps past the thin barrier of his sweatpants, makes his cock twitch in his boxers. He knows how it feels inside of you, has your body memorized like the back of his hand. But it’s in moments like these that he finds himself aching for you, desperate to feel the fluttering walls of your pussy, the pitiful whimpers that fall from your kiss swollen lips. And, well. The skirt makes it all too easy.

He places two hands on the backs of your thighs, runs them up until he’s pushing your skirt up over your waist. You pull away from his lips with a sneaky little smile, pointer finger stroking down the side of his face lazily. “Mm?” you tease, leaving a coy little peck against his mouth. “Now you wanna touch?” Jungkook rolls his eyes, snaps his teeth at your wandering finger when you draw it too close to his mouth. The giggle you let out is so damn precious, makes him want to put you in a glass case and never let anyone else touch you. Coincidentally, it also makes him want to rail you into the mattress until you cry.

“I’ll fucking ruin you, doll,” he settles on murmuring, subtly pushing you down against him. A soft giggle. Jungkook knows it’s your favorite nickname, even if you won’t admit it. He's the only one allowed to call you it, something about his intentions being pure or whatever, he’s not really sure. Anyway, you’re still so cute and soft on top of him, blinking slowly and prettily, so he’s dragging it out a bit, hoping you’ll become more alert in a few more minutes.

As sleepy as you may be, you never miss out on a chance to rile him up. “As if, doll,” you retort, his nickname for you rolling off your tongue seamlessly. It sounds heavenly, sparks this weird emotion in him that he never considered before. Him, a doll? No way. But there’s something about the sweet lilt of your voice, the starry-eyed gaze you level him with, that has him throwing all reservations aside. Put him on a shelf and call him Barbie, because he would be anything you wanted him to be.

Anyway, Jungkook’s sappy thoughts last all of two seconds before he’s rolling you over, successfully trapping you beneath his body. “Oh, so scary,” you feign, hands fluttering to clutch at your chest.

He glides his hands down your body, let’s them trail over your hip and down the side of your thigh. “Don’t get sassy with me,” he warns, thumb peeking beneath the hem of your skirt. Jungkook really wants to burn the piece of fabric this time, because after all that time it spent torturing him with its halfhearted attempts at covering you, it chooses now to do it properly.

Hands are thrown around his shoulders, the overwhelming scent of your perfume and body wash tickling his nose when you pull him in for another kiss. “Or what?” you purr, irises swirling with lust. “Gonna use your manly man strength to hold me down?”

He shushes you with a kiss, slow and languid just how you like. Your taste is familiar, feels like coming home, so Jungkook can’t be blamed for getting too carried away. It starts gentle— it always does. But then a tiny mewl gets stuck in your throat, the following moan swallowed by his tongue, and Jungkook nearly loses it. He nips at your bottom lip, waits patiently for you to open up for him, and when you do he wastes no time diving in. Your tongue against his is slick and wet, makes the most lewd sound. Your little sharp intakes of air fill the gaps, shuddery breaths that Jungkook takes as a good sign.

He strikes while the iron is still hot.

It’s amidst your lazy kissing that he secures his hands around your waist, two reassuring squeezes thrown your way before he’s abruptly rolling onto his back again. “Kook!” you squeal, clutching at the front of his shirt. A pouty frown paints your face, sleepy eyes narrowing him with a rather unimpressed look, tainted with the barest hints of confusion.

Jungkook grins, reaching back to yank his pillow out from beneath his head. “On my face,” he commands suddenly, and you snort.

“What?” you ask a little incredulously, leaning back to level him with an even more lost expression. “Since when do we do that?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Since I decided twenty seconds ago,” he answers rather bluntly. You still don’t look too convinced. It’s not a position the two of you have ever tried. You’re a little on the sappy side, always like to look at his face while you fuck, hold his cheeks in your palms, kiss him sweetly. On the one hand, Jungkook totally gets it; he’ll proudly admit that the sight of your orgasming face paired with your fantastic tits have done him many favors these past few months.

However, Jungkook is a lover of head. Giving or receiving, it’s very high on his list of sexual acts and whoever invented oral deserved all the praise in the world. Not only did you look drop dead gorgeous with his cock in your mouth— tears trailing down your cheeks, drool clinging to the corners of your lips —but you also looked absolutely sexy receiving it.

Kinda.

Probably.

Okay, so maybe Jungkook can’t really say, considering he always has a hard time catching a glimpse of your face when he’s down there licking and slurping your clit like a madman. Which is what leads him to this exact moment, an experiment weeks in the making. Jungkook has a theory that needs to be tested. “Please ride the fuck out of my face,” he tries, hoping the polite tone will win you over.

He’s met with an eye roll. Still, you’re kinder than you let on. “Okay,” you give in, and Jungkook will remember your heroism for the rest of his life. “But only because being on top is empowering.” He just barely contains an over-enthusiastic fist pump into the air, settling on a rather modest smile that has you leaning down to kiss him again. You reach for the zipper on the side of your skirt. “Just let me—“

“The skirt stays on,” he says quickly, hand on your wrist to stop you from removing his most favorite article of clothing.

“Baby,” you say, giving him a rather serious look. “It’ll cover your face.”

“It won’t,” he urges, reaching for the buttons on your blouse instead. Jungkook has had one too many encounters with tops like these, and has long since learned not to tear them apart like a crazed psycho. As much as he loves the sound of your buttons scattering across his bedroom floor, he can’t say he’s too fond of the scolding he inevitably gets afterwards. Anyway, the shirt comes off and so does your bra, leaving your tits in his face, tiny skirt on your hips. “Get up here,” he murmurs, ushering you up his body until your knees are pressing into the mattress right above his shoulders.

If it was up to Jungkook, he would have just grabbed your hips and shoved his face against your pussy. Luckily, it’s not, and your common sense shines through just in time. “One sec,” you say, and then finally, finally, the blue panties come off.

And then it’s just Jungkook and your glistening pussy.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around your thighs. You squeak when he pulls you closer, hand instinctively reaching for the front of your skirt to hold away from his face. The view from here is heavenly, just your swollen clit, gorgeous tits, and shy face.

The muscles in your thighs are a little stiff. Or maybe you’re just nervous. Jungkook isn’t sure, all he knows is that it takes one encouraging tug for you to finally sit on his face. He doesn’t even register the surprised gasp that leaves your throat because he’s too busy tasting your pussy from an all new position. And it’s absolutely amazing.

Something about the position, having you carefully poised above him, does something to Jungkook. He likes to think he knows your body inside and out, knows what makes you melt and what makes you scream. He knows just how to lap at your cunt until you’re cumming, and how many fingers it takes for you to really feel it. But it’s like having you in this position changes all of that, rearranges all the tidbits of information Jungkook has spent months collecting.

(Jungkook is a meticulous man; he’s got a near perfect GPA right now that was the direct result of his carefully crafted note-taking techniques. Whether or not he abused the power of his perfectionist learning abilities to master the mechanisms of his girlfriend’s libido was no one's business but his own.)

One kitten lick against your swollen pearl makes you buck forward, clit brushing against his nose. Jungkook can’t remember you ever doing that on the first lick. “O- oh my—,” you cry, all airy and whiny. Your hand is pressed to the wall behind his bed, the other bunching the front of your skirt just above your mound. He’s rather happy to learn that, just as he’d hypothesized, this position does give him a better view of you.

He’s graced with the sight of your face, twisted up in pleasure. It’s the stereotypical eyes squeezed shut, lip caught between your teeth look. But there’s something different about it knowing that he’s gotten this reaction out of you with his mouth alone.

Jungkook quickly repositions you over him, tugging you back until his tongue is lined up with the front of your slit. You’re so warm down here, make him feel like he’s drowning with your heady scent alone. Tentatively, he lets his tongue dip between your folds, the very tip nudging your swollen clit. A moan tears itself from your throat, the hand that had been flush against the wall suddenly jumping forward to bury itself in his hair. “Oh- oh, fuck,” you shiver, hips jolting forward once more.

You taste good on his tongue, the arousal that coats your lips is sticky and sweet. When he laps his tongue along your folds, quivering hole to stiffened bud, you let out a sob that resonates deeply within Jungkook. And also Jungkook’s cock, which stirs beneath his trousers in excitement. What was once the focus of his mission, a quick handfuck to sedate himself before finishing his research paper, has long since been forgotten. It’s for the greater good, he tells himself, blinking up at you from between your thighs.

Eye contact lasts for exactly three seconds before you’re looking away bashfully, the fist clutching at your skirt trembling against your tummy. You’re so fucking pretty, Jungkook’s heart can’t take it.

And so he sets out on a mission to make you cum as soon as possible, abandoning his slow kitten licks in favor of suctioning his lips around your clit. “Kook,” you wail, tugging at his hair. Whether you do it purposely or not, Jungkook is a little shocked by how good the pain feels. It’s not an emotion he can ponder long, because then you’re using that same grip in his hair to tilt his head backwards, jerkily moving over him.

It’s rough and sudden, the buck against his face, but Jungkook loves it. The drag of your pussy against his lips, the wet glide of your juices smearing across his chin and Cupid’s bow. It all feels so good, and the fact Jungkook is getting a front row seat to the absolutely torn look on your face is just the cherry on top.

Jungkook has seen you make a lot of faces. He’s seen you shiver and drool as he nails you into your bed. He’s seen you sniffle and sob as he slowly fucks you in a rose petal filled bubble bath (a six month anniversary special planned by yours truly). He’s even seen your mirrored reflection fall apart as you bounced away on his lap in front of a mirror.

He’s never seen you like this before.

Needy and desperate, moaning his name softly, practically humping his face in your greed. Tiny skirt clutched against your waist, tits bouncing as you hurriedly grind against him. He has half the mind to burn this scene into his eyelids for the rest of his life.

He’s given up on doing anything with his tongue, simply sticking it out for you to do as you wish. Normally, he’s not a huge fan of letting you do things yourself. After all, Jungkook was your boyfriend. Making you cum was his job. But you’re moving so fast, so frantic, in your mission to cum. So Jungkook sits back and lets you go to town on his mouth as a series of moans spill from your lips.

And then something unforgivable happens.

Jungkook will admit it: he’s staring at you almost a little too dreamily, heart eyes and all. He thinks you’re fucking hot, taste like heaven and have these absolutely delicious boobs bouncing up and down. He’s a little distracted by your glorious figure that he doesn’t notice one crucial bit of information.

Your hand.

The desperate need to cum has your muscles weakening, thighs moving at a latent pace, and, much to Jungkook’s horror, hands trembling. It’s your own pleasure that lets the unimaginable happen: your skirt flutters down. Your grip on it loosens and before Jungkook knows it, the sight of your pretty face and nice tits are gone, snatched away before his very eyes. Even your wet cunt is impossible to see, his world suddenly shrouded in darkness.

Leave it to Jungkook to foil his own horny plan with, well, his horniness. If only he wasn’t so hopelessly in love with the image of you in skirts. Maybe then he could bask in the beauty that was you riding his face.

He acts fast, reaching for the material before he can miss out on anything. But the angle is weird, and without Jungkook’s hands holding your hips, you’re left weakly rolling forward instead. And he’s not the only one frustrated with this turn of events, your face quickly returning to its normal composed form as you level him with a frown. “Everything okay?” you pant.

Everything was not okay, but Jungkook isn’t sure how to tell you that without ruining this delicate moment. So he tries to show you with actions instead, releasing the skirt he’s got in his fist and letting it flutter over his face again. You giggle. “I told you so.”

It takes more willpower than he’d like to admit to pull away from your wet folds, pulling off with a lewd sound that has you biting your lip as you gaze down at him. “I told you so,” he mimics, a little mean but you don’t take it to heart. “Hold your skirt up.”

You hum, the grip on his hair loosening as you push away his dark locks instead. “Mmmm,” you hum. “No.”

“No?” he repeats, actually really scandalized. Okay, so he’s a little spoiled when it comes to you— it’s not his fault! You made him like this, conditioned him to think that you would always give into his every whim because you were just so sweet and considerate and wanted him to be happy. And Jungkook also wants you to be happy, and in his opinion, being happy right now means having him fuck your pretty brains out for ever getting sassy with him.

“I don’t listen to men,” you tease, followed by a cute little nod, skin still a little warm from your looming orgasm. Jungkook takes advantage of your tiny moment of weakness, and strikes like a viper.

A girlish squeal leaves your lips, hands stretching outwards as he knocks you backwards onto the mattress. “Jungkook,” you gasp, sprawled out artfully, beautifully, over his sheets now. He doesn’t waste a second longer, crawling over your body until you’re a shivering mess beneath him.

Hand against your throat, the other blindly reaching for the front of his sweatpants. “What is it, doll?” he drawls meanly, reveling in the way your eyes roll back when his newly-freed cock lands against your slit. A choked gasp leaves your throat, lashes fluttering wildly until Jungkook loosens his grip.

You’ve done a nice job riling yourself up, lips squelching wet and loose when he runs the tip of his cock along them. Your knees are pulled up for him, spread perfectly for him to fit between. You’re so good for him, Jungkook feels a little bad for how hard he’s going to fuck you now.

The sympathy doesn’t last long.

Once upon a time, you had been the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend. Had picked him up from class, encouraged him to do his homework, wore these cute little skirts around campus. Deep down inside, Jungkook knew everyone else was jealous of him— you were just so pretty and cute, a girl straight out of everyone’s dreams.

Until he sunk his horny claws into you. Jungkook will be the first to admit he spends a little too much time browsing porn sites— he’s a man, cut him some slack —which had never caused him any problems before. Even when the two of you were just friends (pining ones at that), you had never seemed even remotely affected by his extensive pornographical knowledge. It was a known fact among your friend group that Jungkook’s best friend was his right hand.

But then, of course, you started dating Jungkook and it was like a save file of all his horniest fantasies was downloaded directly into your brain. Which leads him to this.

“Spit in my mouth,” you shiver, got these huge, watery eyes pointed his way. His cock twitches.

There’s a little groan that tears itself from his throat when he leans forward, cock sliding along your folds, to grasp your chin between his fingers. “Open,” he commands, and you do. Your lower lip quivers, tongue pressed against it as you wait for Jungkook to spit down your mouth. He can’t say he regrets letting you peek through his porn stash, not when it leads to this, you whimpering at the hot glob of saliva he shoots down your throat. “Filthy,” he pants, memorizing the movement of your throat when you swallow like the good girl you are.

Before he can write another twelve sonnets about that dazed look on your face, he’s roughly grabbing at your thigh. You whine, limbs so pliant beneath his touch, letting him hike your knee over his forearm as he tugs you closer. “Fuck,” he groans, reaching down to align himself with your quivering hole. You’re still so wet, make the most lewd sound when he sinks into you. Not that Jungkook really hears it, the sound of your strained moans practically drowning everything else out.

“Fuck,” you cry, one hand clutching at his forearm, the other toying with your breast. It’s a magnificent sight, and Jungkook is suddenly feeling a little cocky when he realizes he’s the only one who gets to see this. It’s this presumptuous nature that fuels the first round of thrusts into your cunt, fast and full. He makes sure you feel every inch of him, tip to base, as he pistons his hips forward. “J— Jungkook,” you pant, back arching beneath him.

You take it so well, walls sucking him in every time he draws back out. “I’ve got you, doll,” he moans, hiking your leg further over his shoulder. Every roll of his hips has your tits bouncing back and forth, lower lip as well with the dopey, open-mouthed look you got on for him. And the damned skirt that got him here, fucking you with a punishing pace, sits perfectly around your waist. He has half the mind to take it off for you, briefly wonders if it hurts, but just looking at it reminds him of about thirty-seven pornos he’s seen. So it stays on, works alongside your lovestruck face to actively rewrite all those pornos anew with you starring in them instead.

It sure helps when you start your usual mindless babbling. “I love you,” you gasp, face screwed up in pleasure. “I- I love you so much.”

He’s contemplating doing a study on you and your weird mid-fuck confessions. You do this a lot, and while Jungkook doesn’t mind, it sure does leave him curious. “Love you too, baby,” he says anyway, repositioning his arms so he can hold your waist with both hands.

“Really?” you ask, voice so whiny, eyes brimming with tears. From emotion or your need to cum, Jungkooks not sure. (Hence the need for a study!)

Another brutal thrust that has you moaning loudly. “Really,” he reassures you, glancing down to watch his cock sink into your hole as he picks up the pace. Your arms are practically limbless, and his stomach is beginning to feel tight. The end was soon. “Love your pretty little face.”

Another whine, your fingers pulling at your pebbled nipples. “M- My pretty face?” you whimper, blink these long lashes up at him. They make Jungkook go a little mad, bring on a wave of jackhammer thrusts that cut your moans into choppy little cries instead.

“Prettiest girl I know,” he groans, not once stopping the movement of his hips. You’re quivering like a leaf beneath him, your entire body locking up as Jungkook guides you toward orgasm. “A fucking doll, baby— so beautiful for me,” he praises.

It’s exactly what you want to hear— secretly, Jungkook hypothesizes that you’re a little bit of an attention whore —crying out when he slows to a grind against you. Each roll of his hips has him rubbing over your swollen bud, leaves you trembling until you’re eventually unraveling beneath him. “Oh- Oh, fuck— Jungkook—“ you sob, writhing beneath him as you cream his cock.

Your tits look amazing, nipples stiff from your arousal and all the attention you’d been giving them. Your features soften, gasps framed by your pillowy lips. As Jungkook has said before, your pretty face was the most dangerous weapon.

He manages a few more pistons of his hips, mostly for reputation sake, before he’s eventually pulling out. His right hand, once the sole hero of his solo sessions, makes a valiant return now as he jacks himself off over you. It takes a few harsh pulls of his cock until he’s spurting his jizz over you, painting your tummy and your tits in white ribbons of cum. You flinch, a tiny whimper leaving your throat at the mess he makes. “Fuck,” he groans one last time.

When it’s over, you have the audacity to shyly pull down the front of your skirt. As if your tits aren’t out and about, but Jungkook pretends he doesn’t see it. Instead, he channels his energy into peppering your face in kisses. “Best girl,” he praises, even though he knows you hate the nickname. “My beautiful feminist queen.”

A pinch against his cheek. It hurts like hell, but he endures it for now, still very much in love with your performance today. “Get me a towel,” you huffily ask, uncomfortable with the jizz sticking to your tummy, as if he didn’t spit in your mouth a few minutes ago.

His research paper is waiting for him at his desk, the materials he’d spent weeks collecting waiting to be typed up. But his girlfriend is so soft and sleepy, asking him to stay for another nap.

There was never a choice.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk♡#jjk smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts jungkook #mine #skirtfic

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redhoodssweetheart · 3 years

Text

Life and Death

Genre: Mythology AU (Orpheus and Eurydice)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes (This is apart of my 1.5K follower celebration, please see post for details.)

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, character death

Description: Natasha and you were happy, but a month after your wedding you are killed by a snake. Natasha will do anything to get you back, even if it means she has to go into the Underworld to retrieve you.

It’s funny how one moment you can be blissfully happy and then in another moment that happiness is slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Natasha and Y/N had been married for nearly a month, their union had been celebrated throughout their small town. But there were rumors that that love and happiness would only last but a short while. Some claimed their union was doomed. There was a prophecy that said that their love would be doomed, that their love, while great, wouldn’t last.

You had worried that the prophecy would come true, but Natasha didn’t put stock into the words from someone she had considered a fraud. She knew that there would be those who didn’t want her to be happy. They were jealous of her and wanted to see her fail. She wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.

But it wasn’t a someone that would take you from her.

“Natasha!” Steve’s voice sounded from outside. “Natasha,” her door flung open. “Come quick, it’s Y/N.”

She dropped the cloth she had been drying her dishes with and followed Steve to the fields where a crowd had gathered. Soft sobs could be heard coming from several of the people you were closest too. Wanda was clinging to her husband, her brother stoic beside her. Then there was Bucky holding onto his wife Sarah. Sam was knelt by a body on the ground and that was when it hit Natasha that it was you.

“Y/N!” She cried, landing in the dirt beside you, but you didn’t respond. You appeared to be asleep and Sam looked at Natasha, tears swimming in his eyes.

“Natasha, I’m sorry… she’s gone,” his voice was hoarse. “It was snakes, she didn’t see them until it was too late, there was nothing we could do.”

Natasha didn’t want to believe it. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be true.

But a few days later your body was burned on the funeral pyre, a gold coin placed under your tongue for the ferryman. Natasha clung to Clint, not trusting herself to be able to stand on her own as she watched the fire consume your final resting place. When it was over she went home alone, collapsing onto the floor and crying there for hours. The home felt cold without you, your light and happiness seeming to have seeped out of the space.

“I warned you,” she jumped at the sound of the voice and turned to find Stephen sitting on the couch, a cup of tea in his hands. “I warned you that this would happen, but neither one of you listened.”

Natasha was on him in a moment her hand wrapped around his throat. “You did this,” she hissed. “You took away my happiness!”

Stephen looked bored and unbothered by her, “I did nothing of the sort. I wished no ill will on you or your beloved. I am merely a messenger for the gods and they told me that this union would only end in tragedy. Lady Hera did not bless this union.”

“I didn’t ask for a blessing, I just wanted happiness. A lifetime of misery and she was the one thing that made me happy. Why must we be punished for a single, stupid blessing?” Her hand tightened and still he seemed so unbothered by the fact that she was moments away from killing him. All her old training coming back, she had been bred for war and though she hadn’t taken a life in years she wasn’t opposed to taking one more.

“Do you want to know how to get her back?” Stephen arched an eyebrow.

Her grip loosened, “How?”

“You must travel to the Underworld, make a bargain with Lord Hades. His wife is with him, he tends to be softer when she’s around. He may grant you your wish of getting your wife back,” Stephen maneuvered out from under her, a sheet of paper in his hands. “This is the closest entrance to the Underworld. Sleep on it.”

She clutched the map in her hands, she knew where the entrance was, and when she looked up to ask him if she could truly trust him, he was gone. Glancing back at the map she felt determination set into her bones and she began to pack.

Steve appeared at Natasha’s home the following morning to see how she was doing and discovered that she was packing. “Nat, what on earth are you doing?”

She didn’t even look up as she wrapped her bread in a cloth, “I’m getting Y/N back.”

There was a moment of silence, and then, “That’s not possible.”

She held up the map to the Underworld, “I’m going to go and make a bargain with Hades himself.” She turned and faced her friend, “I have to try this Steve, I love her. We got one month together when we deserved a lifetime. She deserved more than what she got. I have to try and give her the second chance at life.”

Steve thought that this was the craziest idea that he had ever heard but he walked over and helped her finish packing. When she went to leave, he kissed her cheek and wished her good luck. He didn’t know if she would succeed or fail, but he hoped that she would be all right either way.

It took several days for Natasha to reach the entrance to the Underworld. She passed through several villages and replenished her supplies before reaching the cavern that would lead her down into the place where mortals were not allowed. She had heard of one other that had attempted this. His name had been Hercules and he had been trying to pay off his sins for murdering his entire family.

She dove into the darkness and headed down, down, down. When she emerged from the darkness she found herself on the banks of a river. Souls were milling around hoping for someone to give them a way across. They eyed Natasha warily and she made her way toward the docks. A ferry was waiting and Charon knew instantly that she was not one of the dead.

“I only ferry souls, mortal,” his tone relayed that he was bored.

She produced a coin, “Please, I have payment.”

Charon eyed the coin and motioned for her to board. As they sailed he said, “Lord Hades will not be pleased to see yet another mortal show up on his doorstep.”

“I have no other choice,” her voice was soft.

The rest of the ride was silent and he dropped her off at the other side of the river. His final words to her were the directions to the palace. Along the way she ran into Cerberus and managed to charm him into letting her pass. Then she saw the palace of the Lord of the Underworld looming before her. It appeared to be carved out of the very rock that the walls of the Underworld were made of. It was grand and exactly how she had imagined it would be.

She pushed the doors open and headed down the long halls, crystal chandeliers casting colorful rainbows along the walls and floors, paintings of fields and wildlife decorated the walls, and a plush wine colored rug was beneath her feet.

Several spirits eyed her as she moved through the halls looking for the throne room. She wasn’t sure how, but she knew instinctively where to go. It was almost as if an invisible force was pulling her in that direction. When she arrived the doors were open and before her Hades and Persephone sat on their thrones. She paused before them, staring at them. She had never been before a god before, let alone two.

“What brings a mortal to my realm before her time is up?” His voice was deep and commanding.

Natasha squared her shoulders and said, “I’ve come to retrieve my wife Y/N. She died too soon.”

“Too soon?” Hades questioned. “It is my belief that her thread of life had been cut? Are you a Fate? Did you make a mistake? Tell me, mortal, how do you know that her life ended too soon?”

“She didn’t deserve to die like that,” Natasha said. “We had our whole lives ahead of us, she was good and kind, and I can’t live my life without her beside me.”

Persephone put a hand on her husband’s arm, “What would you do to get me back, my love?”

He looked toward her and Natasha felt hope blooming inside her. “Please,” she begged, pulling the gods’ attention back to her. “I have done many terrible things in my life, but Y/N was the one thing that I did do right. If she was punished because she chose me then she shouldn’t have been. Give me one chance.”

Hades contemplated her words, “All right, I will give you a chance to be reunited with your mortal love. But you have to prove to me that you are worthy of this. When she takes your hand you may not look upon her face until the both of you are out of the Underworld. Trust that she will follow you home to the realm above. Only then can you have her back.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” she sighed. “Thank you.”

A hand took hers and she jumped, fighting the urge to look back to see your face again. She squeezed your hand and began to lead you away from the palace and the Underworld.

Persephone looked at her husband and asked, “Do you think they will make it?”

Hades watched the door where the two of them had disappeared, “I do not know my love, but she will not get this chance again if she fails.”

Meanwhile you followed Natasha, you did not know of the deal she had made with Hades. You did not know that she was not allowed to look at you until you both reached the mortal realm. You wondered why she would not speak, why she was so quiet. You did not ask and you did not falter in your steps. She led you up and up and you realized where you were going.

Home.

She was taking you back home.

The two of you climbed higher and higher, you could see the light from the world of the living before you. Natasha still hadn’t turned and you held onto her tighter. Her feet crossed over the threshold of the Underworld and she began to turn, but you were still in the darkness, still in the cave.

When her eyes beheld yours she smiled widely, she had made it, you were home. But then your fingers melted through hers as if you weren’t really there and your soul went flying back into the darkness below. Natasha let out a scream and lunged forward only to be met with solid rock. She had been so close. She thought that you had both made it out, but she should have gone farther just to be sure.

She let out a sob, there would be no second chances this time.

Hades sighed, he had felt your soul return. “She was so close,” he murmured.

Persephone kissed her husband’s cheek, “They will find their way back to one another someday, my love. As they always have.”

He looked at your soul, waiting at the edge of Elysium for Natasha to return, patient as always.

Many Years Later

Natasha exited the coffee shop, the hustle and bustle of New York City filling her ears. She checked her phone and saw that she had a missed message from Steve telling her to get to the Tower as quickly as she could. Sighing, she slipped her phone back into her pocket and headed down the street. Her cup of coffee keeping her hands warm, fall had just arrived and things were beginning to cool down.

She felt her phone buzz again and cursed Steve. She was on her way. As she reached for it she glanced down for merely a moment and bumped into someone. Her coffee landed on the ground, steaming as it poured from the cup. “I’m so sorry!” A new voice said. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

Natasha looked up to find you standing there looking at her with an anxious look. You weren’t sure if she was going to yell at you or not. “It’s all right, accidents happen.”

“At least let me buy you a new one,” you offered. “I’ll feel bad the entire day if I don’t.”

The offer was tempting, but her phone was buzzing again alerting her to yet another message from Steve. “I can’t right now, I’m late for something, but maybe some other time.” She pulled a scrap piece of paper from her bag and scrawled her name and number on it. “Text me and give me a date and time.”

You smiled at her and she felt as though her breath had been taken, “All right, Natasha. It’s a date.”

You moved past her and she was just staring at you when she felt her phone begin to ring, “God damnit, Steve, I’m on my way!” She snapped as she tore her eyes away from you and began heading toward the tower.

Nearby at a little bistro two people sat watching the interaction, “I told you so.” Persephone grinned at her husband and he sighed.

“As you always are, my dear,” he gave her a fond look and her cheeks heated just a bit. “What do I owe you this time?”

“Dinner,” she said. “Someplace nice. Maybe we could make a vacation out of it.”

He leaned in and kissed her lips, “Your wish is my command.”

A year later Natasha proposed to you and you happily agreed. This time your marriage didn’t end in tragedy, but you lived out the rest of your days together at last.

#Natasha Romanoff x Reader #Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader #Natasha Romanoff x Reader angst #Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanoff fanfic #Natasha Romanoff fanfiction #Natasha Romanoff angst #Requested

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miastideclock · 3 years

Text

“REM” Bang Chan Drabble

anon asked:

Hi, there! I hope you’re having a good day/night. I’ve been having serious Chan feels lately, so can I please request something where Chan comforts his s/o who is having nightmares/night terrors and makes them feel safe? It can be a scenario or a Drabble, whichever you see fit. Thank you so much in advance!

Hi babe, i don’t know if this is exactly what you had in mind, but i got an idea and i ran with it lmaoo :)

Word count: 3k Warnings: Fem!Reader (i mention certain features of the reader, and i am so sorry if it doesn’t match yours!! I try to keep it as description-free as i can, but sometimes it just happens, you know?), Gets kinda graphic and a tad bit disgusting. (Blood, gore, etc.)

“I don’t get it. Frank Tupelo is actually Alexander Pearce? But-” You started staring at the screen that showed the end credits of the horribly confusing movie you just watched. Chan was sat next to you none the wiser.

“But he pretended- why would he, hold up.” Chan started, but cut himself off countless times. To be honest, the only reason you watched the movie in the first place was because Johnny Depp was one of the main character, and he has a tendency to make every movie great.

(Justice for Johnny Depp, I said what I said.)

“Whatever, I’m going to bed. You coming?” Your boyfriend asked as he got to his feet, ready to leave the living room and ascend the staircase connecting to your bedroom. You nodded, letting him know you would be up in a few minutes. However, that was a lie.

The past few nights you had been having these awful nightmares, making you shake yourself awake. Every single time you did, you were scared you had woken your boyfriend up. Up until now, you had been in the clear, but last night, he was just about to stir awake, but then just scratched his chest and the turned around, remaining fast asleep. That’s when you decided you would be sleeping in the living room until the dreams calmed down. Just because you couldn’t sleep, didn’t mean your boyfriend had to go through the same.

You cleaned off the table after removing the empty bowl of popcorn and the two glasses. After making sure Chan was unsuspecting, and had fallen asleep, you went upstairs and got ready for bed. Pajamas, brushing your teeth, washing your face, all that jazz. You then made your way back downstairs with a blanket from the closet and grabbed a book as well. That way you could place the book next to you and make Chan believe you fell asleep while doing some late night reading.

After getting comfortable on the soft couch, you hesitantly closed your eyes, waiting for sleep to consume you.

Running. You didn’t know where, but the gut-wrenching feeling washing over you told you to book it, to get as far away as you could. Looking behind you, you saw nothing but darkness, the same thing that was in front of you, as well as at your sides. A searing pain suddenly wrapped itself around your legs, making you snap your eyes down to see what on earth was going on. Barbed wire could be seen snaking its way up your legs, digging it’s thorns into your legs, drawing blood long ago. Skin started peeling back, revealing muscle tissue and bone. You wanted to scream out in pain, but as you went to open your mouth, you felt the same searing pain. Your hands flew to your mouth, only to feel twine had sown your lips shut. A whisper surrounded you. You couldn’t hear exactly what the voice spoke, but you could hear it clear as day at the same time. It drove you crazy. “This is what he feels.” The voice finally said so you could understand it. Your eyes furrowed together as you tried to understand what he meant, as well as trying to stop the barbed wire from making its way further up your legs. “This is what he feels.” The voice repeated. The frustration grew too big, making you tear open your mouth, the twine snapping. “What are you talking about?” You cried. The barbed wire was at your hips at this point, continuing to dig into your skin, blood pouring out of your wounds. “Chan. This is what he feels when he is with you. In pain- you’re holding him back, and it kills him.” You desperately looked around you to find the source of the voice, but to no avail. “No! He loves me!” You cried out, battling the wire that was now cutting up your arms. “He loves me.” You were quieter this time, more unsure. The smallest moment of uncertainty was enough for the barbed wire to get the upper hand, now strangling your neck, making it impossible for you to breathe as tears and blood streamed down your cheeks. You became more and more dizzy before you finally gave in.

In panic you sat up, looking around, your breath heavy. You had woken up, now back in your living room, no longer in your own personal hell. It took you a few moments to regain your breath, but you finally did. You were drenched in sweat, the large shirt you had stolen from Chan was now sticking to your back, rather than hanging loosely off it.

You got to your feet and went to the kitchen, needing a glass of water. The digital clock on the oven flashed red as it informed you it was almost seven in the morning. You let out a breath of relief as you realized you didn’t have to go back to sleep.

After chugging the icy water, you snuck back upstairs and into your bath, turning on the shower. While you waited for it to heat up, you walked over to the mirror, about to grab your hairbrush when your reflection caught your eye. Your throat was red and irritated, having a single scratch down below your ear. You reached up to touch it, and that was when you saw the red irritation marks matched your fingers exactly. You had probably tried to get the barbed wire off in your sleep, rather than just dreaming it.

Something kinda similar had happened a few weeks ago when you had shook Chan’s hand in your sleep, dreaming you were greeting the prime minister of New Zealand. It had been funny at the time, but now it kind of concerned you. You could only imagine what Chan would do if he saw you like this. Good think you had slept on the couch.

You proceeded to get ready for the day, opting for a fashionable turtleneck after getting out of the shower and drying off. Turtlenecks weren’t unusual for you to wear, so when Chan finally woke up and saw you at the kitchen table in the black sweater and slip-dress over it, he just complimented your style, rather than asking about it.

“What are your plans for the day?” You asked him after kissing him good-morning. He grabbed some of the grapes you had on your plate of fruit in front of you, and popped one into his mouth before replying. “I don’t know. I thought maybe we could have lunch with Felix and Hyunjin? Thoughts?” He looked at you before taking another grabe in his mouth. You gleefully nodded as you loved to hang out with the boys. They always had the craziest stories, and they loved telling you about their new projects and how their album was coming along.

However, what you hadn’t taken into account was your lack of proper sleep, and hanging out with the boys craved energy like nothing else.

So lunchtime finally rolled around, and you found yourself at a café, actively sipping your third coffee today. And at this point it was only eleven thirty.

“You had to be there- it was crazy! I’m still shocked that no one ended up at the ER.” Felix cackled as he told you yet another of his crazy stories, the two other boys chuckling alongside with him. You tried your absolute best to fake a good laugh, and you could see that Felix and Hyunjin didn’t suspect a thing. But unlucky for you, your boyfriend wasn’t as easy to fool. You sat there for a little while longer before Chan suddenly excused himself as his phone rang. Or at least he said it did, you couldn’t really see his screen.

“So, Y/n, Chan tells us you’ve been getting really into home projects and such lately?” Felix asked you as he took a bite of his croissant. You nodded along, telling the two boys about your latest project. “Fixing the door sounded fairly easy, so I thought I could do that to kinda ease myself into the world of carpentry and DIYs, but holy cow was I wrong. I have been working on the door upstairs, the one into the laundry-room, you know the one? Yeah, and well, my toolbox have been sitting next to a heavily broken door on the floor for like three days now. Every time I start, I get even more pissed and have to take a breather.” You chuckled, trying to plaster on a mask of enthusiasm and humor.

You loved the boys to death, but you just didn’t have the energy to spare today. They applauded you, resulting in you bowing slightly. Hyunjin asked a few questions about a doorknob he had issues with at his own place, to which you gave him some tips.

“Sorry about that.” Your boyfriend suddenly returned to the table. “But Y/n and I have to get going. Our neighbour just called and said she thought she heard a tap running, so we gotta go get that. But it was nice catching up!” Chan let them know, making you get to your feet and grab your purse, scared your place might’ve already flooded. You gave the two boys both a kiss on the cheek as you bid them goodbye, you and Chan soon making your way out of the café.

“Was it Linda who called, or Mrs. Oh?” You asked, trying to place which tap it might have been they heard. Chan soon grabbed your hand and slowed you down, letting you know there was no rush. “What are you doing, we gotta get home!” You grew confused.

“There was no phone-call you moron. I saw you were tired and needed a break. We can catch up with them some other time.” He spoke with a smirk on his face, making your jaw drop as well as the corner of your lips tug upwards. You thanked him and fell into his pace, you giving his hand a squeeze. While still having your fingers intertwined, you took your free hand and wrapped it around the same arm you were holding with your other, your head leaning against his shoulder as you walked at a slow pace.

The warm breeze kissed your exposed legs, gently brushing your hair out of your face. The sun was high in the sky as it was only noon, people and cars rushing past you, trying to make meetings on time, running errands.

“Did you even get to bed last night?” Chan asked you quietly, not needing to speak up anymore as you were resting your head on his shoulder. You told him you fell asleep on the couch reading. “Ahh, that makes sense. It’s a good couch, but not the best place to try to get some proper sleep.” He understood.

The rest of the day was pretty chill, and before you knew it, it was night time. Soft music was playing on the radio as you entered the bathroom where Chan was already standing, fresh out of the shower, only a pair of joggers on him. He was just finishing up putting on shaving cream on his face when you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Hey baby girl.” He grinned as you hung around him. You hummed a reply before letting go of him, letting him raise the razor to his face.

You brushed your hair and washed your face, but made sure to take your time. You didn’t want to change out of your turtleneck until Chan was gone. When he finally did you hurriedly changed into the same t-shirt you had slept in the night prior, only that it had been washed since its last use. You looked in the mirror and saw that the irritation from this morning had calmed down immensely, only a few scratches being visible. You positioned your hair over your shoulders so the marks would be hidden, at least for the small time you would have to expose yourself to your boyfriend.

“Hey babe, I’ll be downstairs for a while. I’m not really tired yet, so I’ll just watch a movie or something.” You said as you kissed Chan’s cheek. He was already sitting in bed, his back against the headboard as he scrolled through his phone. “Oh why didn’t you just say so? I’ll come with you.” He smiled and was about to put away his phone, but you stopped him.

“Babe, you have a long day at work tomorrow, you need your sleep. I’ll come back up in no-time, okay?” You assured him. He let you know that he didn’t have work in the morning, but you still convinced him to just go to sleep.

The couch was as comfortable as ever when you finally made your way downstairs with the same blanket from the night before. As soon as your head hit the couch pillows, the memories of your last nightmare flooded your mind, making your breath hitch. You quickly jolted up into a sitting position, taking a few deep breath. You soon tried to lower yourself back down, this time counting the panels of the ceiling, trying to distract yourself as you drifted off to sleep.

3:39 am

A muffled scream was heard from downstairs, causing Chan to abruptly wake up. His first instinct was to look over to your side of the bed, his heart dropping when he didn’t see you there. He let his hands ruffle the sheet, looking for you. More rustling noises snapped his attention to the door. Slowly and quietly, Chan made it out of bed, grabbing the handle of the door. He twisted it and quickly opened it, stopping it from making any creaking noises. He then made it into the hallway, trying to listen for sounds downstairs, but it had quieted down. He looked around for a weapon he could attack the intruder with, his eyes landing on your toolbox from the other day. As he grabbed the hammer, he sprinted downstairs, hammer raised above his head, ready to fight off any murderer.

Chan felt his whole body relax when he saw you safe and sound on the couch, no sign of a thief. However, the sigh of relief wasn't something he got the luxury of enjoying as he soon saw you in distress. Tossing and turning and scratching at your neck in such severity that you had drawn the smallest amount of blood.

He placed the hammer on the floor and made his way over to you, grabbing your hands to stop you from hurting yourself anymore. “Y/n!” Chan called out, trying to get you to wake up. After the combination of crying out your name and shaking your shoulder, you finally jolted out of the nightmare you felt so trapped in. You jumped up in a sitting stance, fighting for your breath, tears streaming down your face.

“Hey, hey- babe. Shh, I’m here. I’m here, love.” Chan spoke instantly, letting you know you were safe. Once you saw you were no longer in danger you fell into his bare chest, sobbing.

He softly hummed as he protectively wrapped his arms around you, letting you cry out all that you needed. A few minutes passed before you finally calmed down.

“I’m so sorry I woke you up.” You finally whispered after silence came over you. Chan pulled away from you and gave you a look.

“Are you crazy? Are you actually apologizing right now?” He asked in shock. “I don’t care that you woke me up. All I care about is that you are safe. Okay?” He made sure to look you in the eye and really let you know he meant every single word.

“Okay. I just didn’t want to be a burden, I figured sleeping on the couch until the nightmares stopped would be the best of both worlds, but I guess not.” You sighed as you fell back into his chest.

“So you didn’t actually fall asleep reading the other day? Or watch a movie last night?” Chan asked, to which you only hummed, it being a bit too hard to audibly admit you lied to him.

“Well, since we’re both awake anyways.” Chan stated before letting you go and making his way to the kitchen throwing some popcorn into the microwave. You knew exactly where this was going, so you quickly went upstairs and took a shower as well as getting into another of the many shirts you had stolen from Chan, walking back down.

The smell of popcorn didn’t surprise you as you had heard him start to pop it before you went upstairs, what did surprise you was what he had down to the living-room while you were gone. Candles on the coffee table, next to wine glasses filled with capri-sun. He had gotten your pillows and quilts from the bedroom and made the couch comfortable. The netflix logo was prominent on the large telly, as Chan patted the seat next to him.

“Bub, you didn’t have to all this!” You gushed as you got under the covers next to him. You cuddled up into his side as he placed his arm around you, kissing the top of your head as you did so.

“I will never be able to sleep, knowing you won’t sleep well, so we might as well.” He smiled looking down at you, soon switching his attention to the plethora of movies the streaming service. You sighed happily and turned your attention to the same thing. You ended up picking a stupid-looking movie, making fun of the characters as the plot escalated.

Chan made a comment about the main character that would one hundred-percent have made you laugh, so when you didn’t he looked down at you, a smile slapping across his face when he saw the sight. You were sleeping, soft snoring being the only sound you made. Seeing you peaceful was enough for Chan to turn off the movie and adjust the two of you so you were sleeping on his chest, slowly raising and falling with every breath he took. That way he too could soundly sleep, knowing you were safe.

this shit took me two fucking days. this is usually done in like a few hours- bUT NOOOO I HAD TO GET INVESTED. whatever. I hope you liked it! Feel free to request again!

-Bentley

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awanderingdeal · 4 years

Text

In which Sirius takes back Halloween

My fic for the fabulous fic -o-ween! This is not even remotely scary and is basically a big fluff ball. I hope you enjoy your Halloween as much as Sirius and co!

A big shout out to @ais-for-alex for being my beta for this fic. I did make a couple of changes as I was re-reading this morning (who can resist) so any mistakes are most likely my fault.😂

And finally, a massive thank you to @lumosinlove for lending us these wonderful characters to play with. They really have been a massive part of my lockdown sanity.

Rating: G

CW: Food mentions

“Do you think I should sell this house?” Sirius mused, tapping his long fingers against the rim of his mug.

Remus looked up slowly from his tablet, from which he’d been reading the daily news. “Why would you want to do that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s just so big, you know,” Sirius shrugged, taking a second to formulate his thoughts into a coherent reply. “I kind of just brought it as an act of rebellion when I got my first pay check. We’re never really here and even when we are, we use what, maybe five of the rooms.” He leaned back in his chair, pushing his hair back off his face. “It just feels so soulless,” he finished, glancing at Remus to gauge his reaction. His boyfriend was as impossible to read as ever, not giving an ounce away until he opened his mouth to speak.

“So, give it soul then.” Remus said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Like you said we’re never here. But we could be. We can make memories here if you want to,” he smiled gently at the thought. “Maybe, we could start with me officially moving my stuff in here?” he added, biting into a doughnut casually. If Sirius didn’t know Remus better he would have thought that the monumentality of the question had bypassed him.

Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus's waist pulling him close, smiling into his curls at the memory. It had taken place two years ago now and of course, Remus had been right. Sirius couldn’t imagine living anywhere else now. A crunching sound interrupted his thoughts. He shook his head, but didn’t comment on his boyfriend’s breakfast, a leftover toffee apple, knowing from previous experiences that it would only encourage him to make worse choices.

The conversation in his memory had been the reason that he’d first thrown his annual Halloween bonanza, a tradition (if something that had only been done twice could be called a tradition) that was quickly becoming infamous. It was a family affair with all the team bringing their loved ones to enjoy what was quite frankly, an outrageous display of wealth. Each year, Remus and he turned their back garden into a fete with, pumpkin carving, a hay maze, apple bobbing, spooky cupcake decorating and face painting to name but a few things. No expense was spared. But it wasn’t about the money really.

A soft kiss to his jawline pulled him out of his thoughts again. Remus sighed contentedly and leaned into his chest, body warmth radiating between them. Sirius glanced down at the shorter man, giving him a reassuring smile. Remus could always tell when he was in his own head.

“Just thinking about last night,” Sirius hummed, his eyes flickering to the giant corkboard on the wall. It was currently monopolized by the polaroids that had been taken the previous evening. The collection showcased exactly what the party was all about.

It was the photo of Logan, his teeth clenched around an apple, sticky liquid dripping down his chin and eyes glimmering with competition. Next to it, the photo of Katie Dumais hugging a huge, black stuffed dog, almost the same size as her.

“Logan won me a new stuffie!” she had beamed as the photo was taken. Logan, much to Katie’s distain, ruffled her hair and told her, “N’importe quoi pour vous.” Anything for you.

It was the image of a frantic James declaring, “I have lost my child!” Olli and Timmy laughing in the background because they could see a tiny Harry dressed as a pumpkin toddling around behind his father.

It was the one of Talker, for once sitting still, albeit in a chair designed for small children, his eyes closed but his mouth moving. Across from him, Noelle’s expression was fondly exasperated as she tried to finish painting his face. Another photo evidenced that she had been successful; there were two matching skeletons (Thomas and little Xavi) with faces warped by laughter.

It was the collection of photos towards the top of the corkboard. Reg and Leo. Reg and Celeste. Reg and Jules. And his personal favourite, Reg and Remus.

“I love this one,” Sirius said aloud, his fingers reaching out to brush the picture he was referring to. Even now it still baffled him to see his brother interacting with his boyfriend so casually. At this point the two men had their own relationship outside of Sirius, founded on nerdy things that he failed to understand. His heart swelled as he took in the image of the two most important people in his life.

“It’s a great photo,” Remus agreed. He and Regulus had their heads close together, hands waving as they enthusiastically discussed something. Remus had a smug expression on his face, Reg looked disgruntled. The photo captured their personalities fantastically. “I think this is my favourite,” Remus added, pointing out a different polaroid.

This one was taken inside. An entanglement of blankets and sleeping children. Smitty’s youngest, Noah, had started it. He’d crashed around 9pm after an almighty sugar rush, and his father had laid him down in the quiet of the lounge to sleep. Katya Ivanov and Katie Dumais followed soon after. Harry had put up a valiant effort not to join them. In fact, there was a photo a little to the left of Sirius rocking his godson who was fighting his drooping eyelids. Never the less, he ended up in the pile too.

“One day, we will have one of our own to add to that pile,” Remus smiled, giving Sirius a squeeze.

“One day,” Sirius agreed, wiping a thumb across Remus's lips to remove a trace of toffee. "We better go and wake those two up. Marcie will be here soon – she won’t want to clean around them,” Sirius declared, his head inclining towards the lounge. Remus chuckled in response, spinning in Sirius’s arms and taking his hand to lead him to the other room. Sirius allowed himself to be led, picking up the camera from the counter as he passed.

The camera flashed and pushed out a photo with a click. Sirius grinned, shaking the small square whilst it developed. Slowly it revealed two men curled into one another, the taller of the them had his arms wrapped around the smaller. They looked peaceful. Remus tried to wake them up gently, but apparently the small shake to Kuny’s shoulder was enough to startle the pair. A string of Russian – almost certainly profanities – left Kuny’s mouth as he pulled himself away from Nado. Sirius noted the blush that spread over Kuny’s cheeks as he realised how entwined they had been.

“Right boys. I hate to kick you out but my housekeeper will be here soon and she does not need to be subjected to your hungover asses,” Sirius said, although he didn’t sound regretful at all.

Nado grumbled, showing Sirius his middle finger and sweeping his hair back of his face. “Come on Koon, I’ll drop you home.”

Leaving Remus to deal with their two unexpected guests, Sirius wandered back into his kitchen to pin the photo he had just taken with the rest. There wasn’t a lot of room left, but he managed to squeeze it between a photo of Natalie and Kasey holding their carved pumpkins, and a particularly sweet one of the cubs. Finn’s lips were pressed against Leo’s nose, red from the cold. Logan cocooned between them, resting his head on Finn’s chest. Sirius couldn’t help but smile as he realized that none of them were wearing the same sweaters they had arrived in, seemingly having swapped them over the course of the evening.

Remus came back soon enough, shaking his head and huffing out a laugh. Sirius didn't want to know. “They'll be gone soon. We should pick up. Marcie isn't paid enough to deal with…this" Remus said, gesturing towards the chaos of the kitchen. Sirius looked around, a grimace forming on his face before he nodded his agreement. The floor was littered with costume parts, either lost or removed as games were played and alcohol was drunk – devil horns here and iron man’s mask there. There was a stain on the rug where a bowl of perfectly spiced pumpkin soup had been spilt. Toilet paper had managed to make its way into the craziest of places, casualties of the mummy competition. Popcorn crunched under his feet – the impromptu viewing of ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’ had happened two rooms over - how popcorn had ended up in the kitchen, Sirius did not know.

Despite it all, Sirius would do it all again tomorrow. Growing up, Halloween had been characterized by loneliness and jealousy. His overly religious parents had declared the holiday heinous and banned even mentions of the event. In the supermarket, they snatched offered candy out of his hand and Sirius had listened on wistfully as the other children spoke about their hauls. The memories made him a little sad, but it was okay now, Sirius had reclaimed it – Halloween was his again.

#sweaterweater #coast to coast #fic-o-ween #food mentions #slightly edited 24/02/21

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neokids · 3 years

Text

Fortune's Fool: Act IV

Introduction

Cast

Act I

Act II

Act III

Act V

Act IV

Tw: Lots of blood, character death, violence, murder, guns, knives, weapons, foul language, self-inflicted wounds, suicide, overall graphic content

“I don’t see anything.”

Jeno decided to further poke at whatever he was looking at. They were currently on the boardwalk near Han river, where the very first gruesome incident had occurred.

“Shut up and keep looking.”

They had yet to find anything suspicious, or anything “monster” related, the dock just seemed normal to them. No signs of tragedy even. They had been wandering around the docks for hours now, and the two were getting bored. Jeno, however, persisted.

“Ya Jeno. Jeno-ya. Jeno Lee–”

“For fuck’s sake what?! What is it Jaemin? If you don’t stop, I will not hesitate to throw you in this river right now.”

Jeno turned around to see a crouching Jaemin, obviously wanting to go home. If they weren’t at the docks right now going on a search, Jaemin would sure be enjoying painting whatever it was on his mind. Jeno couldn’t go home without anything to present his father, he could already imagine the look on his face, disappointed yet again. Earlier this morning, Lord Lee had met Jeno just before he left. He gripped Jeno’s shoulder while muttering the words: “Don’t let me down, son.”

To a passerby, the scene was normal, just a father and son having a conversation, but Lord Lee had actually gripped Jeno’s shoulder a little bit too hard, causing a red and almost bruised grip mark to form. Thinking about it made him touch his shoulder again. The word son actually felt more like a threat to him, rather than a word of affection.

He was too lost in thought only to be brought back by the sound of Jaemin groaning,

“You know you volunteered to go with us, right? You were even so excited to go on what you call a ‘mystery hunt’” Jeno said, causing Jaemin to look up at him.

“That was because I thought this case would be interesting, we’ve been here for hours looking for nothing! This is starting to feel like a game of hide-and-seek where everyone was already inside while the person was still counting to a 100,” Jaemin huffed as he stood up, now maintaining eye contact with Jeno.

“All too familiar with that situation, are we?” Haechan decided to butt in their conversation after hearing what Jaemin had said causing Jeno to barely hold back his laughter.

Back when they were kids, all the Lee children decided to play hide and seek, with Jaemin being the person to find them. They agreed upon this since he wasn’t a Lee, so he should be it. Jaemin started to count to ten, only to hear Haechan scream that he should repeat it and count to 100, and so he did. What Jaemin didn’t know was that Haechan had silently told everyone to go back inside to their respective rooms, and only show up until it was time for dinner. Let’s just say that Jaemin spent the whole night crying because he was so stupid, he even refused to eat dinner, he was so sure that he would be met with Haechan’s teasing nonstop. That is until a very thoughtful Jeno had brought food up to his room, and apologized on Haechan’s behalf.

“Shut up before I throw you into this river.” Jaemin said, challenging Haechan only for the latter to just shrug and continue his search.

“Christ it reeks in here.” Jaemin further complained, “At least it smells like rotten fish, not like rotten bodies.” Jeno countered. Jaemin stopped in his tracks to look at his best friend, “Is there a difference?”

“Jeno,” Haechan called and waved for him to come closer,

“What? Did you find something?” Jeno immediately went to his cousin’s direction.

“Of course not.” With that, Jeno smacked his cousin right on the head.

“Look, I don’t think there are any more places we could search. I mean we searched this place top to bottom already, I don’t think we missed anything.” Haechan said, looking up at his cousin.

Well technically, even if they did manage to find something, what would they do with it? There was no one to question, no one to blame, no suspects to interrogate, this was a tragedy caused by the victims themselves. The people who had died were the only suspects.

“People say that there was another attack here last night.” Haechan added as he stood up, Jeno tearing his gaze away from the waters of Han river and back to his cousin.

“Well then that’s great!” Jaemin exclaimed quite too enthusiastically. This only caused the Lee cousins to look at him as if he was the craziest man alive. Jaemin on the other hand, had just realized what he had said, he didn’t mean it that way.

“I mean– the new location, not the attack… Sorry ‘bout that. Let’s move along to the new crime scene shall we?” Jaemin finally exclaimed, fully ready to get going. He was already making his way towards the alleged crime scene when he was pulled back by Jeno.

“We can’t, it happened in Viper territory.” This only caused Jaemin and Haechan to look at each other then back at Jeno.

“And how did you know exactly where it had happened?” Jaemin asked, crossing his arms, Haechan just eyed him suspiciously, “My father had sent me to obtain any information they had regarding the very first attack. The second attack happened in the Poculum, a man suddenly collapsed and… well you know what happens next.”

“Well? Was any information obtained?” Haechan asked, his turn to cross his arms. Jeno only shook his head no. “She said they knew nothing.” A moment had passed in confused silence,

“She? She knew nothing?” Haechan echoed, Jaemin tilting his head rather very confused. “Who’s this ‘she’ we’re talking about?” Jaemin decided to also question Jeno. Jeno looked at the two of them, only to turn his gaze towards the murky waters of Han river. “Yeji Hwang,” He answered rather quietly. The two could only blink at Jeno, then suddenly a loud bang could be heard all throughout the dock, Haechan had accidentally knocked over the crates he was leaning on.

“Yeji?!” Haechan exclaimed,

“Yeji is back?!” Jaemin decided to add as well.

Jeno could only keep his gaze on the water. A sudden sharpness towards his chest, made its way to his head. The feeling did not go away no matter how hard he tried, hearing her name out loud definitely did not help. It hurt to even say her name.

Actually, not too far from here is where he had first met her. They were both still just kids, hoping to get away from their respective households. Jeno had decided to take a break from riding his bike to stop and sit by the Han river. Back then, it was much more clean and much more fresh. A very shocking contrast to the polluted and dirty water now. It was funny how the water, just like them, turned darker and darker over time. It was a symbol of how unclean and impure the water was, just like them. As time went on, the more bad things they had done. Causing their souls to get tainted. If people were all born with pure white souls, theirs would have been pitch black by now. Dark as the water in Han river.

Yeji just so happened to lose her balance right in front of him, cliche they know. Thankfully, a very sweet Jeno had helped her get back up. Ever since that day, they would meet everyday to just play and bike around. They were not Lees nor Hwangs, but simply just kids who played.

“Yeah, she is.” Jeno confirmed as his fists were balled against his sides. He let out a shaky breath as he stood up.

He had heard rumors of what Yeji had done, all the lives she took, crimes committed causing the people of Seoul to become terrified of the heiress. He had hoped that maybe those were just rumors, nothing but lies to scare enemies away, but when they confronted each other last night and had looked each other in the eyes, he knew that they were all true.

She was a killer, a criminal, violent, callous, and ruthless– that is what she was now.

He felt sorry for her, he didn’t want to, but he did. He couldn’t help the fact that the Yeji he knew way back was slowly disappearing now. If not, had completely disappeared. It didn’t settle nicely to him knowing that he was the cause of the sudden change of heart in her. In those 4 years she was gone, Jeno had still dreamed about her. In those 4 years, who couldn’t help but miss her. Her laugh, her smile, her eyes, her everything.

But he does not regret what he has done.

“What in the animal planet is this?” Haechan said as he crouched down to pick up the crates he had previously knocked over, only to find mysterious looking objects scattered on the floor.

At first glance, the mysterious objects looked like scattered peppercorns on the ground, maybe a merchant had unfortunately dropped their spices and refused to clean the mess up. But at further inspection, the so-called “peppercorns” had tiny legs and with dysmorphic bodies the size of an infant’s fingernail. It was pitch black and shiny as well. Haechan, realizing what he was holding were in fact, dead insects, had instantly dropped the insects on the floor with a loud yelp. The insects fell on the floor similar to how grains of rice were if they had been dropped.

Hearing Haechan suddenly yelp in disgust immediately alerted Jeno and Jaemin to head toward his way. When they reached the sight, all three were silent. The mysterious insects scattered on the ground were nothing like what they had seen before.

“Are those… dead flies?” Jaemin asked, unsure of himself.

“How are those dead flies when they can’t even fly? They don’t have wings,” Jeno said while he pointed to the closest insect near him. “Jaem check the other crates and Haechan give me your bag.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Jeno only glared at him as he extended his arm out in order for Haechan to give him his bag. “But I just got this and it’s limited edition and I had to search–”

“Haechan,” Jeno warned, “Give me your bag.”

With a disgusted look on Haechan’s face, he gave Jeno his bag. He watched as his cousin scooped a handful of the insects and put them all in his bag. “Why couldn’t you just put them in your pockets for Christ’s sake.” Haechan complained as he was given his bag full of unidentified insects, “They would get squished obviously. Plus my pants are new.” Jeno said, giving Haechan a playful wink,this only caused Haechan’s eye to twitch.

“There’s nothing here,” Jaemin said as he was carefully putting the crates back in place, the two Lees were already making their way towards Jaemin when they heard voices of merchants coming their way. There was no sight of any Neo-owned fishing boat, that only meant they were in the vicinity of the Vipers.

“Perfect timing, might I add.” Haechan said as he looked at a panicking Jeno and Jaemin, and before the two could react, Haechan already gave them both a rough push. Soon enough, all three of them were quickly submerged in the polluted water of the Han river. They swam underneath the boardwalk in hopes of not getting seen by the incoming merchants. They heard distant voices quickly fading out in the background. As soon as the coast was clear, Jaemin grabbed a fistful of Haechan’s hair and submerged his head in the water.

“Ya! You didn’t have to push me! We could have just opted to hide behind the boats stupid-ass.” Jaemin said, as he released Haechan. “They were walking towards the boats smart-ass.” Haechan retorted as he splashed water towards Jaemin’s direction. While the two were arguing back and forth on what they should and should not have done, Jeno was busy scanning the whole area. Suddenly, a floating shoe had caught his attention. Leaving the two behind, Jeno swiftly swam to the said object. Upon further inspection, the shoe was what he thought it was.

“Oy!” He quickly called out, causing the two to stop and turn their attention to him. “Do you know who this belonged to?” The other two tilted their heads. “A stingy man who decided to take a swim here in Han river who managed to forget his shoe?” Jaemin asked sarcastically.

Haechan could no longer stand any more of their current situation so he started to swim towards the land while the two were quick to follow suit. As soon as they were back on their feet, Jeno called for the attention of the two.

“This belonged to the man who clawed himself to death last night, the man who died in the Poculum.” He grabbed Haechan’s bag as he started to walk away fast. “This means that the man was here too. Let’s go, we need to take this to Doyoung and Kun.”

“Can’t we at least change into some dry clothes?” Haechan said as he squeezed his polo shirt. Jeno only turned back and rolled his eyes, “You’ll be dry by the time you get–”

“Oy,” Jaemin suddenly interrupted, he suddenly narrowed his eyes at the water they were previously submerged in. “Did.. did you see that?”

When the two looked at the water, all they saw were their silly reflections staring back at them. They looked at Jaemin as if he was a mad man, but when they saw the look of confusion and disbelief on his face, something told them that Jaemin wasn’t trying to be funny.

“Are you trying to be funny right now, Jaem?” Haechan asked, quite annoyed causing Jaemin to look back at them. There was something on his dead-serious face that caused an uneasy feeling to settle in their guts. “Never..never mind. I thought I saw eyes in the water, holy shit I need to lay off drinking too much espressos.” He said, scrubbing his eyes.

“Where?” Jeno asked as he scooted towards Jaemin. “In the water, but it could have been just my imagination,” Jaemin said as he looked at Jeno.

“But why would you imagine eyes in the water?” Jeno asked as he grabbed Jaemin, a sign to get going.

“You’ve heard the whispers right?” Haechan asked, only causing the three of them to halt, yet again.

“A monster.”

Only then, when said out loud, did Jeno realize how unbelievable it was. A monster? Running loose in the city? Only for it to jump in the river? In broad daylight? Jasmine was right, it did remind him of all the scary stories he would tell her when they were younger. Jeno then beckoned his friends to start moving.

“You can’t seriously believe that, can you?” Jeno asked Haechan, picking up his pace.

“Hey you never know, you know? For all I care this madness could have been from the river or something like that.” Haechan said as he tried to match Jeno’s awfully fast pace. “Whatever, let’s just keep moving.”

By the time they arrived back near the Neo mansion, they had already been completely dried. Jeno had stopped abruptly in front of their lab, panting trying to catch his breath. This caused Haechan to accidentally topple and collide with Jeno. Jaemin in the meanwhile, lost his balance and was now holding on to Jeno’s arm like a lost child.

“Sorry, tripped on this.” Jaemin said as he regained his balance. It was a flyer from the rovers, aka the people who didn’t side with neither the Vipers nor the Neos. It had this written in big bold red letters: SAVE YOURSELVES FROM THE MADNESS, GET VACCINATED!

“Give me that,” Jeno demanded as he snatched the flyer from Jaemin, he quickly folded the paper and stuck it in his pocket. “Come on, they should be closing up by now.”

As they entered the building, no Neo employee bothered to tell them off. No one should be entering the lab at this hour, especially now since they were all excited to head home. But of course, Jeno Lee was above all laws, he was the Neo heir after all. The only reason these employees were even getting some sort of pay was because of him.

“Doyoung? Kun? Are you still here?” Jeno asked as they reached the second floor of the lab. The second floor was for the more trusted scientists such as Doyoung and Kun. They were the ones responsible for making powerful weapons that could bomb a whole house down.

“Up here!” A voice had exclaimed, Jeno immediately following the said voice in a quick motion. Jaemin and Haechan were already on the verge of collapsing, but they still followed him.

Upon their arrival, Kun could only furrow his brows. It was usually only just Jasmine or Jeno, he didn’t expect for other people to arrive. Nonetheless, guessing they were with Jeno, they were of high ranks as well.

“What brings you here today hmm?” Kun asked as he set down the tablecloth he had just used to wipe his counter. His part of the lab was much more organized and clean than what was presented downstairs. He and Doyoung would always fight on who had a cleaner workspace, only for Jasmine to mess both up. “If you’re here for the cartel, we’re not yet quite finished with that.”

Jeno could only wince. Of course Kun had assumed that Jeno was there to follow up on the drugs, what else could he be there for? Just before Kun could answer, his attention was already on Haechan and Jaemin, but more of the latter.

“Ah, Jaemin Na, at your service.” Jaemin said as he extended a hand, Kun had paused since he wasn’t used to none-Lees visiting, but he still accepted. He then turned his attention to Haechan.

“What?” Haechan asked, did he expect him to introduce himself? But he was a Lee, was he not? Surely he knew me, Haechan thought. Jaemin nudged Haechan by the rib causing him to extend his hand as well. “Lee. Haechan Lee.” Kun only stared at him for a second before bursting into a fit of laughter. The three boys looked at each other, then looked at Kun. “I know.”

Haechan’s brow never twitched higher, causing Jaemin to laugh as well.

“We’re not here to nag you about the cartel, we need your opinion.” Jeno said as he set down his cousin’s bag, causing Haechan to grimace since he remembered what Jeno had placed inside. Jaemin also had a look of disgust on his face since they could hear the dead insects rattle inside.

“My opinion? Opinion on what?” Kun asked, a tad bit perplexed. “On this.”

Jeno dumped out all the contents inside the bag causing the insects to scatter all over Kun’s table. With no hesitation, Kun started poking and touching the insects, no sanitary measures whatsoever. This caused Jaemin to silently gag, and for Haechan to step back. “What is this exactly?” He asked, picking an insect up causing Haechan to further step back.

“We found them at the crime scene, where the first attack had happened.” Kun only looked at the insect closer. “So is this what you think may have caused the madness?”

Jeno, Jaemin, and Haechan could only look at each other.

You never know, you know? The words from his cousin suddenly echoed in Jeno’s head.

“I don’t know, I was hoping you could tell us.” Jeno admitted, “It was the only evidence present anyways,”

“Or maybe a monster from the Han river had resurrected and decided to start this contagion.” Kun looked at Jaemin in a very, very, bored way. “Stop talking.” Haechan whispered to Jaemin, making him immediately shut up.

“That’s...interesting.” Kun suddenly said. The three thought that he was referring to Jaemin’s suggestion, turns out, he was referring to the insects.

“What’s interesting?” Jeno asked coming closer, beckoning Jaemin and Haechan to do so as well. Haechan had to shove Jaemin since he did not want anything to do with those mysterious looking peppercorns.

“I’ll show you.” Kun grabbed a lighter and lit one on fire. When the insect he had lit on fire started moving, so did the others left on the table. For a mere moment there, they thought that the insects were still alive. But when Kun put out the fire, the insect had stopped, and so did the ones on the table. “Whatever this thing is, it’s definitely not acting alone.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jeno had asked, hoping that he had not.

“It follows something. Whatever that something commands.”

Oh this was definitely not a work of nature.

#jeno mafia au #jeno smut #jeno angst #jeno fluff #jeno x yeji #nct jeno #dreamzy #nct mafia au #jeno mafia #jaemin mafia #yeji mafia #yeji itzy #yeji soft packs #nct dream mafia #aespa mafia

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shortcrust · 3 years

Text

Fic Writer Questions!

Thank you for tagging me @theburialofstrawberries, here’s the fic equivalent of me talking like a food blogger before the recipe.

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

21, presently!

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

105,246, but I am the first to own that this in inflated a bit by works using in-line HTML, and includes that which I’m only a co-creator on.

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I think it’s very sexy of me that I keep dropping 1-2 fics into a fandom tag then vanishing into the night never to be seen again. The Terror is an outlier though. It just keeps happening!

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The four instalments of my goofy Witcher AU, which are beating out my Cobra Kai fic by what one might call a substantial margin.

Bonus! Split by hits, the four instalments of my goofy Witcher AU, which are beating out my Dirk Gently fic by what one might call a substantial margin. ‘‘like’ it or not’, the first one in the series, has 42,000 hits and hovers roughly at the 40th most kudos’d work in the tag. I sometimes think about that number in comparison to the population of the town I grew up in and feel very unwell.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

With the caveat that I just could not keep up with it for the aforementioned Witcher series; yes, always. Sometimes I need to sit on a comment and digest it a bit, but someone has gone the effort of forming what they liked about my words into their own words, and I want to honour that. Particularly how fandom operates nowadays, where it feels like one has to go out of one’s way to obtain the community aspect of fandom, I really adore being able to back and forward with other people who just like to create, and share, and enthuse about creating and sharing.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

My Terror ‘Orpheus and Eurydice’ fic, for obvious reasons.

7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

That outlier aside, everything runs the gamut between ‘that’s nice :)’ and ‘tooth rotting’. A few contenders here, but I think the Brokeback Mountain fic has to win for the extent that the depicted happiness is contrasted against the source material.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Watch this space! Coming soon to a cinema near you!

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope.

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Only recently! And, turns out, it’s really fun! Who knew! I’m still not convinced that anything I’m doing is hot, but it’s pleasing to me, personally, and that is both enough reason to do it and, statistically speaking, an indicator that someone else out there likes it too, probably.

In the spirit of more data viz, here’s a graph that roughly charts my consumption and production of erotic fanfiction over my lifetime:

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope!

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not quite, but I’ve had the absolutely bonkers privilege to have some of my works podfic’d! I’ve received the gift of a beautiful reading of my Ghosts story, as well as a number of treatments of the instalments from my Witcher series, including this podvid, which I think works particularly well given the visuals of the story! It really reflects the fun I had putting that series together. One day I’d love to do a reading for someone’s fic, because I’ve never felt more honoured and flattered in all my fandom days than hearing someone use their real time and real voice to read my works!

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

@theburialofstrawberries, tell me a time and place.

14) What’s your all time favorite ship?

Too fickle to commit one to paper, but I will say that nothing has cooked my brain matter and rewritten my synapses quite so bad as the poly marriage I imagine the chief, his wife, and the marine biologist from Jaws having. Genuinely forget sometimes that didn’t actually happen.

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Pour one out for the 15k gen Venom WIP that sits in my Notes app. Love you buddy. Sometimes open that note just to give it some fresh air

16) What are your writing strengths?

Vignettes, embedding character voices into the prose itself, the occasional turn of phrase that I will credit myself with being pretty snappy.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

Long scenes! I became so used to vignette-style writing that I intentionally wrote a one-scene story as a challenge to myself and writing the glue between all the interesting bits was like sticking my hands in an oven.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’m glad we’re moving away from the default ‘italicisation to show different language’, which can be othering; I think different ways of depicting language have a place depending on what you want to achieve. Does the POV character know what is being said? Is it important that we, the reader, in said character, presumably do not? I’ve learned a lot about portraying sign languages in my time learning BSL recently, which I’d be keen to put into practice one day.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I cannot recall which was first, but it was either the A:TLA fic where Katara helps Toph get made up all pretty for a party, the Teen Titans songfic where they were on an X Factor-style singing competition and people who commented got to vote people out each update, or, if it counts, Warriors roleplay. It all comes back to Warriors roleplay boards. Know your herstory

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I don’t love all my children equally, but I do love them all in different ways. I have a lot of affection for It’s An Institute You Can’t Disparage for being the thing that got me writing fic after a very long time just consuming it, but honestly, my recent self indulgent Terror affairs have just delighted me so much. I’m having so much just plain fun, again, and writing for a crackship is really putting one’s money where one’s mouth is about whole ‘I’m doing this for me’ thing.

Tagging @ellisbarrow @anne-with-an-evangelion and @boilyerheid, if you fancy it!

#tag games aka answering questions on the tumblr red carpet

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gra-sonas · 4 years

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Currently airing its second season and already renewed for its third, The CW’s Roswell, New Mexico continues to push the story of alien siblings attempting to live peacefully in the town of Roswell to new places even perhaps for fans of the original Roswell. MICHAEL VLAMIS discusses working on the show, the complexities of his character, Michael Guerin, the many (MANY) other projects on his plate and more!

watchtivist: To start off, congratulations on the success of the show! How cool that you’re heading into season three now!

MICHAEL VLAMIS: It’s crazy, I remember when I got the call that I was going to be on the show in the first place. It’s the role that changed my life and it really set me up for all the other things going on in my life. I remember getting that call, crying in a public place. So jacked up! And now all of a sudden, it’s like no big deal. I watched the episode last night (episode 207) on the TV and I get reminded it’s a big deal when I talk to my parents after every episode and hear their thoughts. Just the fact that they get to see their son miles away on television once a week. I appreciate you saying that because sometimes it feels like this is something we’re doing now, but definitely taking those moments to be grateful and the fact that we have season three is amazing.

W: It’s really great, especially in this landscape where shows don’t really get to dig into things. It’s gotta be exciting!

MV: Definitely.

W: One of the questions we received from Twitter was about if this role, that of Michael Guerin, has led you to acquire any particular skill set (or sets) for it.

MV: Oh wow, that’s interesting. Season one made me pull out my guitar again. Which was actually really cool because I got like not good at guitar, but decent where I could play a few songs. In college, I borrowed someone’s guitar and later got my own and played a bunch. Then for years, I got so focused on trying to make it as an actor, writing and auditions, that I stopped playing it. The show forced me to really go out of my comfort zone and even though it was easy things like songs with four chords or strumming patterns, sometimes depending on shooting schedules and if they got switched around, I’d learn something three hours before going to set. We’d wrap super late sometimes and I’d come home and dig in with my guitar. It’s definitely helped me brush up on that. I haven’t played the guitar on season two, so I’m probably back to where I was. [Laughs]

W: With the violent circumstances making up Michael’s background, he kind of starts out with that “looking out for number one” approach to things and season two we’re seeing Michael’s growth and him realizing when it’s perfectly ok for him to let people in and reprioritize based on that. What has that been like for you in terms of tackling the role? What would you say is the next phase of the growth for him?

MV: I think number one in tackling it was that I had no idea that the character was this complex in the beginning. I knew he was hiding his sexuality and who he really is, which is an alien. I knew that something had happened to him in the foster system growing up and he didn’t have the best upbringing. As the seasons have developed, everything has made a lot of sense. I’m sure Carina (Adly MacKenzie) knew from the moment she got the opportunity to do the new Roswell , so the way that it was written in the beginning, I was never surprised where it led me. And even with not being surprised, it’s been really cool to just see what they’ve given me to jump into. It’s kind of helped me deal with some of my trauma as a kid, and my trauma is not near what Michael Guerin’s was. I definitely had my moments, just as we all do with our families. Not feeling good enough or just hiding certain things about you because you’re afraid of who you are and people wouldn’t understand you. The complexities of the character have really helped me also look into who I am. Because I need to figure out a way into every script, every scene and the character. It helps me strip things away and boil down to “Ok, who was thirteen-year-old, chubby, Michael Vlamis and now I’m this way. What was that growth like?” Figuring out my own personal growth helps me elevate that character, Michael Guerin.

With where we’re going next, I can’t say too much because he already has some changes coming towards the end of the season. It’s very interesting to see everyone’s theories online, some are correct and some are way off.

I saw in last night’s episode they finally revealed the junkyard owner, Walt, was the little boy from the flashbacks and people were speculating that really early on! That was really cool to see people getting validation in their theories because I love seeing those online. When it comes down to it, I want the dude to be happy with one of these lovers. I don’t know who that’s going to be. Everyone always asks who I’d rather be with and I can’t really even say that, even if I had one, because they’re both so different. I think Maria (Heather Hemmens) and Alex (Tyler Blackburn) are both good for Michael at different times in his life. I know Tyler is going around telling people that that’s what he wants in season three and I let him run his mouth and hope that his new love interest in the show crashes and burns. [Laughs] I would like him to be in a good relationship, a happy relationship, but at the same time, I’m so excited to do the work on the days where my mother is dying, my brother is in a coma or I’m getting my heart ripped out. I love those scenes so much, as happy as I want and think Guerin deserves to be, I love the drama on the show. So, a little bit of heartbreak won’t hurt me.

W: Right, that makes sense. The question was going to be what would you want to see for Guerin in season three and beyond but you basically answered that! You want him happy. [Laughs]

MV: I’d love to see that. I would like to further expand his journey of putting that spaceship back together. I would love to see where that goes. I don’t even know if The CW has the budget to do that and take us to outer space or something but I think that’d be so cool. To find out about that and their home planet.

W: I mean, The CW has The 100 and DC Comics shows! Space isn’t a new place for The CW.

MV: That’s true! So maybe right now we’re willing it into existence. We’re manifesting it.

W: Actually, bringing up spaceships. Given that we live in the craziest of times and the Pentagon officially released videos of UFOs - Has that been something you’ve talked about with any cast or crew members?

MV: I haven’t talked to any of the cast or crew members about it but I’m pretty sure we’re all feeling the same way about it, we’re all excited for any new information. I’ve been interested in aliens since I found out Tom Delonge from Blink 182 was a major conspiracy theorist and loves everything about UFOs and alien artifacts, that search for if there’s life outside of our own. I always thought that was so cool, going back to fourth grade listening to “Aliens Exist” by Blink 182. I want that to be the case, I want that to be real. I think life would be far more interesting and I’m always trying to believe in the most interesting things because it just furthers the imagination. I haven’t talked about it with them but now that you’ve mentioned it, I’ll shoot off a text.

W: The show hasn’t shied away from increasingly difficult topics like the foster system, immigration, citizen’s rights, abortion, etc. Is there an area you’re hoping the show either continues to explore or adds going forward?

MV: I would’ve answered this question so differently two years ago but now I would say something with the LGBTQ community really responding well to the show has really furthered me as a human being and opened up my mind to what people who are made to feel “outside of the norm” go through. I personally don’t think or feel that they are. I think it’s ridiculous the taboo that society has placed on sexualities over the years. The fact that we give marginalized voices a platform to come forward and see that what they’re going through, other people are going through. That it’s ok, it’s love and that’s all that really matters at the end of the day. It’s so special to me. The more that we can tackle that, it really comes down to my character and Tyler’s character having a great relationship. That might mean that Lily Cowles’ character, Isobel, is still going to Planet 7 and seeing what’s out there. I think it’s cool how we normalize that, it’s not a big deal. I live in LA right now, and people, they experiment, they’re fluid. They’re interested and the more you find out about yourself, the more you know, the more comfortable you are with yourself. I think that’s a really important topic that I want to further.

I think we’ve done a really good job with the idea of what an immigrant is and what an immigrant looks like. I think we tackled the abortion scenes, I would’ve never thought that was something on our show. It’s very hard because the writers find a way to interweave everything in. I haven’t had the time to sit back and think “what else?” because every week has been something new.

W: That’s a great answer, it’s true. The show has covered a lot of topics and it’s doing very well.

MV: The abortion episode was insane, Carina fought for those shots of Lily’s legs bloody and she didn’t want to shy away from the graphicness of the scene. And I think that was important, to be really truthful to that.

W: Incredibly. This season resurrected Rosa (Amber Midthunder) from a pod years later, which is similar in a way to Captain America or Han Solo being unfrozen. With time having gone on, she’s having to adjust and in her own way, catch up to 2020. Let’s say you were able to suggest 1-2 things that someone should undoubtedly know about in 2020, what would it be? Is it a book, movie, show, certain type of food? What’s something you’d for sure put on that “must haves/dos” list of things or experiences?

MV: Oh wow, you’re really making me think about this! I can’t help but think about it as if it was me in that scenario and I would say something that I was really fortunate enough to do ten years ago, which was scuba dive The Great Barrier Reef. I think it’s so sad that it’s deteriorating at such a rapid rate because of pollution. I’m sure some natural causes. A lot of people fighting climate change will say natural causes and I can understand and see both sides to that, but I know that we definitely contribute to that. That was one of the most spectacular things I’ve ever seen. And if someone wasn’t able to see it the way I saw it, I haven’t been down there since so I don’t actually know what it looks or feels like now. But that was one of the first moments in my life where what I was experiencing…the world felt so big. Not in a way it felt just traveling. In a way it felt magical, that something like this can just exist and has existed much longer than we’ve ever been around. I’ve had that with hiking the second largest glacier in the world. All these feelings with nature have really expanded my mind and my horizon of the potential and possibilities. Realizing we’re very small, we’re here for a short amount of time. Let’s cherish it.

Traveling to these places that have just been so affected, I think that’s very important because of what it did to my mindset.

W: I loved that answer, you made it ecofriendly and everything. That was wonderful!

MV: My sister studied environmental science at the University of Illinois, so I gotta keep her mind. But I really do believe that. Maybe that’s something I want to see in the show too! Go into some climate change. I don’t think we’ve touched that really, have we? Each side has arguments.

W: Each episode of Roswell, NM is titled after a famous ‘90s song. What’s your favorite or what would you consider the most iconic ‘90s song or band/musician?

MV: For me, it was Blink 182! In the ‘90s that was me. I’m a big Conor Oberst fan, the lead singer of Bright Eyes. The fact I’m in a scene, now multiple scenes that play that song. They did it in season one and in season two, they play “First Day of My Life,” that has been so surreal to me because music has been so important to me as a kid. I haven’t told many people this. As a kid I’d make short films with my friends, a lot of people know that, but what they don’t know is that I would rip so much music from all these platforms. As a little 11 year old kid, I’d get as much music as I could to have thousands of songs on my iTunes and iPod. Not that I was going to listen to them, but that one day when I was making my own big movies, I’d have this database of music to select from. Back then there wasn’t Spotify and it wasn’t as readily available, and also I was a kid and that was my thinking! Music has such an influence on my life, but Blink 182 specially. All that angst I was feeling at the time as a kid, it’s really in Guerin and me, even though I handle it in different ways in real life. Feeling a little different or not understood, that was that music that would give me a release without being too intense or too Screamo. If a Blink 182 song is ever in a scene that I’m in, I can die a happy man.

W: [Laughs] Amazing. Alongside acting, you’re also a talented writer, director and producer. A screenplay that you co-wrote earned a spot on the Black List which was one of the coolest things I’ve ever read. Congratulations! Are there other projects you’re currently working on or maybe topics you’re considering for future screenplays?

MV: Thank you! Yeah, definitely! The new Nicolas Cage/Tiger King series, the creator of that is actually the showrunner of a TV show my writing partner and I created as well. So, we’re all really stoked about that. Dan Lagana, showrunner of American Vandal is making such a splash with this Nicolas Cage project that it’s helping our TV show get put together too. We’ve got the Black List/Mac Miller script, we have a “Halloween comedy” feature film that’s set up at Seth MacFarlane’s company right now. Hopefully that gets made. We have an “old lady comedy” that’s being read, taking a lot of good meetings on that. We’re writing our next movie right now, we’re probably going to finish the beat sheet. We do a very detailed, intense outline of the movie, scene by scene as if we were actually writing the script. Exterior, interior, every single scene in order, everything we want out of characters in the scene, what we expect to happen, some dialogue that maybe came to mind as we’re banging out the outline. Once we get to writing, we could bang out eight pages in a day. We finish scripts very quickly, so we’re writing a “mob action comedy” right now. So yes, I became a writer out of desperation and found some success with writing. It’s been really good. As a kid making short films, it wasn’t actually in script form.

The last four years I’ve been writing a ton and now it’s starting to pop off a bit. I love it. I produce my own movies too and it looks like we’re about to lock down distribution for the first feature film I produced and starred in called Five Years Apart, it’s got a pretty cool cast in it and I’m really pumped for people to see it, we have a really cool distributor, I’m 99% sure that’ll be our distributor but I don’t want to jinx it. We’ll see if that’s going to be Hulu, Netflix, small theatrical release, I’m not sure yet. As a first time producer I’m learning all that. We’re gearing up on producing our next feature too, we were planning on filming in Wisconsin this summer but things have changed with the conditions of the world.

Acting, producing, writing, directing and releasing another merch line. I’ve been staying busy during the quarantine!

W: Seems so! I saw the line and love the pops of color!

MV: Thank you! It’s been really good, honestly the feedback, I was very surprised with how it’s done. Compared to last year and the multiple drops, this year, we’re nearing a certain point in orders and products that we’ll have to produce within three days of being out. It’s been really cool. Last year we gave 100% of profits to a charity called Random Acts started by Misha Collins of Supernatural. And this year, I unfortunately can’t do 100% again, I made the point but learned the lesson in that we had no money for this next launch. [Laughs] I had to dig into my own pockets, which was fun and it’s all good, it’s a big creative project. This year Carina created this thing called The Little Alien, a Roswell fund for the Roswell crew that’s out of work right now. She’s been raising money through t-shirts and I’m going to donate some of our proceeds to them as well. They’re the heartbeat of the show, they’re the reason we get to be there every day and things go smoothly. We’re trying to take care of them at this time.

W: Amazing, intentions matter so that’s really cool to hear. Lastly, anything you’d like to say to those reading and watching?

MV: To those reading and watching, thank you from the bottom of my heart that you’re tuning in and giving me a platform to do what I love the most. And what I set out to do felt like such a dream that from the age of 12 to 20, I wasn’t acting and making movies. Dreams are just dreams until you realize that they are very plausible, and most dreams, I think, can be achieved given the right circumstances, opportunities and work ethic. Thank you for allowing me follow my dreams and I hope that I’m able to inspire you to follow yours.

~ WatchTivist

#michael vlamis #mgv interviews #rnm spoilers #long post is long

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fictionalrambles · 4 years

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Shadowhunters Fandom Story - Part Seventeen

Submitted by @archeryandeyeliner

Five Fave Fics

Lightwood-Bane Family Series by Fanatic_weirdo

Why I love this series: This was one of those fics for me that had me up until 4am on a work night, but I just couldn’t stop reading. Every single story in this series hits the reader in a different way. It deals with immortality in a way I have yet to see another fic handle. It works in Max and Rafael to a point where I was almost more invested in their stories than Malec’s, which is incredibly hard to do. The reader gets Malec as immortal husbands and father’s to two children who the reader can’t help but fall in love with.

Favorite work in the series: This is Me (Fighting for you) follows the love story between Max Lightwood-Bane and Chris, Shadowhunter and Parabatai to his brother, Rafael.

Favorite quote: “He’s getting married,” Max whispered. Every word harder to say than the last as he tried to breathe against the feeling in his chest that made it feel like his throat was closing. “And not to me.” That broke the dam and now the sobs were back. Heaving and ripping out of his throat as he gripped one of their shirts as tightly as he could, desperate to keep from drowning.

Magnus and Alec had tears of their own trickling down their faces at their child’s pain. They knew it wasn’t just a teenage heartbreak. What Max and Chris had was as real as what Magnus and Alec had.

“Please fix it, Daddy,” Max begged, his face contorted in agony. A sob came from Alec’s throat as every instinct in him told him to do what was ingrained in parents to do and ‘fix it’.

“I want you to kiss me,” Max whispered. Chris moved forward but another hand on his chest stopped him, “But I won’t be able to bear it when you stop.”

Support System by @bytheangell

Why I love this fic: Elle has always been one of my favorite authors in the fandom and someone I’m lucky enough to call a friend. This was one of the first chaptered fics I ever read for the fandom and it pulled me in like no other. The dynamic between Magnus and Alec was so perfectly written and the storyline truly helped me with accepting the inevitable end of the tv series. Throughout the entire fic, you just want them to get their act together. The missed opportunities are plenty and when they do finally meet, it’s just as beautiful as the reader could hope for.

Favorite quotes: “Why don’t you just tell him?” It’s a question Alec asks himself every day, and the answer he gives himself is the same one he hears come from behind the rim of a martini glass.

“Because if he doesn’t, and I ruin this friendship now, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Alec picks up the thought without missing a beat. He doesn’t know what this guy’s situation is, but he can certainly relate to the general concept. “And even if he does, and it doesn’t work out… It’s safer to keep what you have than risk losing everything.”

“...but then I wonder what if he’s sitting there, thinking the same thing? What if we’re both just waiting for the other to make the first move? Hell, what if it’s worth the risk?”

Magnus’ eyes aren’t on the billboard; they’re on the man standing next to him. Alec is conveniently unaware with his attention dutifully turned upward. He knows he should be looking up as well since the billboard is what they came here to see, but honestly, he’s enjoying this particular view much more... Especially now that the edges of Alec’s lips are curling up in a soft look of appreciation he probably isn’t even aware he’s making - the pure joy of his expression is enchanting. So while everyone else’s gaze is focused upward Magnus’ eyes linger on Alec. He doesn’t know what everyone else is looking at - Magnus can’t imagine a more captivating sight than the one he’s currently taking in.

Angel's Treasure by @msalexiscriss

Why I love this fic: I read this fic during a slow day at work. I sat in line at Dunkin Donuts, opened it on my phone in full, and drove to work with it ready to skim during the day. I was captured by it. I am not usually a fan of these kinds of AU’s, but this fic had me neglecting all of my adult responsibilities. The adventures that they go through together and the love they have for each other was everything I needed at that moment and it will forever hold a special place in my heart.

Favorite quotes: “No, what are you doing!?” He berated himself in the back of his mind. “You’re caring about the boy and you can’t! You can’t!” He told to himself, trying to close his eyes and go back to sleep.

But his mind kept taking him back to the first time he had seen Alec in the square in Alicante, to the day the boy had helped him out of prison, to the day when, in an attempt to protect his father’s honor, he had tried to kill him; to their time in the Spiral, to their little stroll in Cadiz, to their perfect adventure in Cartagena. There was a memory of Alec in every day since they had met and Magnus hated that.

He hated it because he was starting to feel guilty, something that had not happened before. Every time he recalled one of those moments all he could see in Alec’s eyes was trust, and Magnus knew he was not worthy of such thing. Alec didn’t do it on purpose, of course, it was in his nature. Alec was one of those men who had a blind faith in humanity—and that was either a blessing or a curse.

“The fact that you’re a pirate doesn't make you a bad person.”

“What?” Magnus asked just to make sure he had heard correctly.

“Not all pirates are bad.” Alec said. “You’re not bad...I mean, you’ve committed crimes and all, but you’re not a bad person. I know you’re a good man.”

Magnus tried to laugh at the sudden compliment, like Raphael and Ragnor seemed to be doing, but he couldn't. What Alec had just said had touched him deeply. And even though he was not sure if he deserved the praise, he was grateful that his skin had the right tone to hide those uncontrollable accumulations of blood, because after more than 108 years, give or take, Magnus Bane, immortal pirate and once captain of the world's fastest ship, had blushed.

Appassionato by @chonideno

Why I love this fic: There’s something so soft and wonderful about Malec falling in love with only their mutual love of music. Throughout the entire story, I didn’t mind that they hadn’t met. They fall in love with each other through every piece of music that Magnus requests and Alec seduces him with every brush of his fingers over the keys. I wanted Alec to keep fulfilling his love for his gift and Magnus’ little notes made it even better, for both the reader and Alec. This fic is nothing less than poetic in nature and every single piece Alec played for his tiny audience had me captured without actually hearing the music.

Favorite quotes: There’s a note on the doorstep.

Alec bends over, picks it up and closes the door. It’s a thin piece of paper coming from some kind of notepad. Something is handwritten on it; the ink is a deep purple (really? who writes in purple ink?) and the words flow with grace despite having obviously been written in a rush. The letters are inclined, in cursive, elegant. Even more pleasing to the eyes, instead of a complaint, Alec reads a love letter.

“A humble request to the pianist: Liebesträume no 3 in A flat.”

A request. Someone heard him and when they could have ignored him or asked him to stop, they want more. They want more. A wild shiver runs down Alec’s back. He has an audience.

On Tuesday, his neighbor sounds tired, so Magnus requests a simple Goldberg Variation.

On Wednesday, his neighbor plays for a full hour without stopping so Magnus requests the short and jumpy Maple Leaf Rag, hoping to tire him out and allow him to sleep.

On Thursday, Magnus finds a large plate full of muffins of all sorts on his neighbor’s doormat; chocolate, caramel, blueberry, vanilla – only good stuff. They all look homemade too, all soft and perfectly baked. Still warm for some, they smell absolutely delicious. Magnus can’t believe it. It’s for him. His neighbor made all of this for him. He leaves his note and carefully takes the plate as if he had just found a pirate’s treasure. Of all things he owns, of all the silks and cashmeres he’s touched, nothing is quite as precious as a plate of baked goods prepared with love. Later this night, biting into the muffin version of an apple crumble as Alec delights him with Saint-Saëns’ Swan, Magnus wonders what he did to deserve this seat in heaven.

“I have one last humble request, if you let me,” Magnus smiles, visibly proud of having used the perfect phrasing. He steps even closer, his hands joined together under his chest as he rubs his own palms gently. “Please, teach me,” he almost whispers.

Alec raises an eyebrow. This doesn’t make sense, Magnus always seemed to be such an expert. “Teach you? What do you mean, you don’t play it?”

Magnus’ eyes dart to the left. “I know a lot about music but I’ve never really…” he moves his hands around, looking for a word. “Taken the time to learn myself.” He locks his gaze back into Alec’s eyes. “So let’s make a deal. Keep the piano and give me lessons in return.”

Wild Life by crazyellephant

Why I love this fic: There’s something about two strangers who meet in the craziest of ways that just gives a reader hope for their own future. Magnus is so entirely lovable and Alec was a goner the second he decided to ask Magnus along for the ride. With every new character who sees them falling in love, the reader learns a little more about both Magnus and Alec and it makes the reader fall in love with them separately before they even want them together. These two were insufferable the entire fic and I just wanted them to have their happily ever after.

Favorite quotes: In this life, Alec is just the guy who was nice enough to have picked up this hitchhiker. And tomorrow, quite possibly, they’re going to go their separate ways.

"Hey, Alec." Magnus said, his voice echoing in the room. Alec grunted to acknowledge he was still awake. "Thank you for coming back to pick me up and staying with me tonight."

Alec turned and lay on his back, his hands resting on his stomach. He looked at Magnus and smiled. "No problem. My conscience wouldn’t have let me live it down if I heard you died there or something."

"Magnus?" Alec asked, voice catching in his throat.

"Hm?" Magnus responded.

"I really like you." Alec all but whispered his confession, aware of how very close they were. He held his breath, waiting for Magnus to say something.

Magnus smiled wider. "I really like you, too." He confessed.

Attached to her message is a screenshot of Magnus' Instagram page. Trust his sister to already be following probably all of Magnus' social media accounts. It was a picture of the two of them. Magnus had jumped on Alec for a piggyback, his arms around Alec, hands resting on Alec's chest, Alec's hands circled back around Magnus' thighs to keep him steady. Magnus' had his chin on Alec's shoulder and both of them were smiling. It was taken by a friendly tourist when they were at Lipan point earlier that day, with the view of the Grand Canyon right behind them.

On the caption Magnus had written:

Most handsome mule at the #GrandCanyon. ;) #OrIsItStubbornAss #besttimeever #adventure #mine

Author Story

I had always been terrified of posting my writing. I’ve written for years, upwards of 15 at this point in time. I have notebooks filled with stories dating back to my freshman year in high school, none of which have ever (or will ever) see the light of day. There was something so… satisfying, about posting my first story for this fandom. It wasn’t anything amazing now that I look back on it, but it spurred my creativity and had me yearning to write. It had been years before I posted my first fic that I had actually sat down and written a story. Now, a few days go by without writing and I feel lost.

I have this fandom to thank for that. I’ve met the most brilliant, talented, kind people that I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing through Shadowhunters. Every author mentioned and so many more inspire my own writing every single day. Writing is… hard. It’s impossible to always feel good about what you put on a page, but to have fans of the show tell you that your writing made them feel something is unimaginable. I’ve had people tell me that my writing makes them cry because of angst, have to take a cold shower because of smut, makes them curl up in a ball and squeal because of fluff; it honestly means everything.

#shadowhunters #shadowhunters fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction blog

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paulamakesfilms · 3 years

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Black Mirror: Bandersnatch (Slade, 2018)

!film review!

Bandersnatch is an INTERACTIVE (yes, you read that right) film about a young computer game developer in the mid-80s. Stefan (the protagonist) spends the whole film trying to develop a game called ‘Bandersnatch’, a make your own adventure game; so, just like the film, you choose what the character does.

Short review: Watch this film if you can. It is a wild ride. The craziest things happen that simply blow your mind and challenge your perceptions. It’s like a normal black mirror episode on steroids; all the intelligent and unexpected plot twists.. etc. And, of course, you get to choose what happens; there are 10 different main endings! Best audience interaction you could imagine.

Deep dive review: This will be probably the longest review I’ve ever written because all of the elements of ‘Bandersnatch’ are just so interesting and I love this film, thank you David Slade <3.

Firstly, the title deserves recognition. ‘Bandersnatch’ is a fictional character from books in the 19th century and he is typically described as a furious and unpredictable creature. Those exact words can be used to describe the protagonist. Even though we get to choose his actions, he is incredibly unpredictable, and, if you’ve watched this film you will know he can definitely be quite furious (hint: ash tray scene :0).

Next! The narrative (narratives?) itself is very creative to say the least. There are many plot twists that come out of nowhere and are simply CRAZY but somehow make perfect sense. The narrative explores mental illness; we know Stefan is struggling due to his actions, therapy scenes, medication etc. Sometimes it can be confusing to decipher whether the events we are watching are reality or in Stefan’s warped mind but I think that is part of the point; as the audience we are supposed to be challenged and introduced to new perceptions of time, reality etc. From what I understand from the film and reviews, the film is supposed to challenge the idea of free will. How much control do we actually have as humans? How many choices are actually ours to make? More specifically, the film introduces the idea that we don’t have much free will at all. “When you make a decision,” Colin instructs, “you think it’s you doing it, but it’s not.” For example, the film pushes you to certain storylines whether you want it to or not. In one scene, you choose whether a character takes LSD and even if you choose the ‘no’ option, he takes it anyway. So, there’s that; how much free will do we have?

That’s what I love about Black Mirror; the deep mind-bending questions that really make you think.

There are 10 different main endings. I could sit here and talk about all the one’s I’ve watched but 1) that would take a while and 2) so many spoilers </3. Most of the endings that I have watched/ read about are pretttty cool. Importantly, I feel like I should say that I had a lot of fun watching this film (like 4 times woops); I gasped audibly at times, smiled at the intelligent plots, laughed at the absurd twists (you know what I mean if you watched the fight scene) and cringed at the horrifying moments.

Characters! Stefan, the protagonist, was fantastic- he was acted out well, totally believable. His dad annoyed me at times I won’t lie, he always said the same thing over and over again and kept butting in but I guess that’s just his character. Colin was my favourite character; I loved his crazy dialogue. Dr Haynes also annoyed me; if only she believed Stefan every time he sort of broke the 4th wall and talked about being controlled. That makes me wonder- was Stefan ever ‘crazy’? Surely he was right about everything… and only we understand him… huh…

Film form! The mise-en-scene was impeccable, the 80s vibe was strong and thriving through the clothing, locations, dialogue. The cinematography was also nice; lighting sometimes had meaning and cool colours. Obviously, the editing was impressive; I cannot imagine how long it must have taken to A) film all of the different clips and B) edit those clips and add the interactive interface too. Good work y’all. The music deserves an honourable mention. It added a lot of tension, especially when you have to make a choice and the timer is running out. Stress levels= high.

I am not rating this film a 10/10 and here’s why: at times, I was confused about where I was in the narrative and what had actually happened/ what was a dream/ was skipped or cancelled because the choices sometimes force you to go back and choose a different option. To be fair, they do replay a quick time lapse to show you what has happened (sometimes). But still, we are of course pushed towards the main narratives and therefore it can get confusing and annoying when you are forced to go back.

Overall, fantastic film. Even without the interactive feature, I think I would have enjoyed it due to the meaning behind the narrative, film form and the whole crazy Black Mirror energy. Of course, the interactive feature was very cool and made the film so fun and exciting to watch. I recommend watching it a couple of times or playing around and skipping backwards to choose different options. There are really impressive scenes and endings to discover.

In my expert* opinion, I’d rate this film a strong 8.5/10.

* I am not an expert.

paulamakesfilms

#bandersnatch #black mirror #netflix #paulamakesfilms #films #film #movie #movies #film review #film blog

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feelthepainofdodick · 5 years

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Love For Hire - Ch. 1 - (D.D. x Reader)

Summary: David hires you to be his fake girlfriend for a month to get the diza stans off his back. This experience is the craziest thing that has ever happened to you and the emotional consequences that ensue are something you never expected.

Notes: Hey everyone! I’m back with another series! This will be my main focus but I’ll try to keep writing imagines between chapters if I really like a concept or get a request. I’m really excited for this series and I hope yall like it. I honestly don’t know how many chapters I plan to write for this but I can for sure tell you it will be longer than my last series. Much love, Julie.

Word Count: 1479

CHAPTER TWO - CHAPTER THREE

It’s been a year since the infamous break up video between David and Liza and it felt as though the ‘diza’ stans were still in full swing. This caused David so much internal turmoil. Every time he gets frustrated by it, he goes to a friend to just talk about it and vent it out. Most times he goes to Natalie since she lives with him. Tonight was no different. David laid in Natalie’s bed talking to her about what is on his mind.

“I just don’t know what to do Nat. I’m exhausted of getting tweets or comments about Liza. Even in actual interviews for any press they still ask me about the breakup as if anything changed. What do they want me to say? That I still miss her, or I hate her, or we are actually best friends. It won’t ever end and I’m fed up with my career being surrounded around Liza. Don’t get me wrong. I love Liza but I hate that our relationship is what my career is surrounded by. I like to think I work hard. I’ve done collabs with famous people, have a podcast, went on tour last year, got to do a movie character voice over, and yet my relationship with Liza is the main point of conversation in everything. What don’t people understand that we are broken up and I don’t have all the answers on how she’s doing. Yes we are still best friends but she’s busy and I’m busy. I’m just over it.” He sighs loudly, exasperated.

Nat had heard him say the same things about this topic over and over again for months. She truly sympathized. She couldn’t imagine being with someone and have your relationship so public and beloved by so many then to break that by breaking up. Something so personal and sad for the world to see. Then the idea hit her…

“David! Okay so I have this idea but it’s a bit out there...” She says nervously.

“What is it Nat?” He questions.

“So, I’ve been reading this book lately about this girl who escorts for people with money on a monthly basis and is basically whatever she needs to be for them for an entire month.” She explains.

“What does this have to do with me?” David interrupts.

“What if you hired someone to be your fake girlfriend for a month? You have a bunch of press to do next month and she can be in the vlogs getting all the diza stans off your back.” She proposes.

“That’s crazy. If I wanted someone to be my fake girlfriend for a while why wouldn’t I just ask one of my friends to do it?” He questions.

“David. You can’t be serious? That’s such a big favor to ask one of our friends plus when you break up in a month, it’ll be the same thing all over again with whoever you choose since the fans know both of you. Also! What if this friend falls for you. You will have no control over emotional consequences. You would be paying this girl to pretend to be your girlfriend, thus you wouldn’t have to be emotionally connected to her as horrible as that sounds. It would be transnational rather than a favor.” She further explains.

Intrigued he says. “Do those sites even actually exist in real life, not just in books and movies.”

Natalie smiles. “Well, why don’t we check?” Pulling out her laptop.

David moves to sit next to Natalie looking over her shoulder as she starts looking up on google if its real. Natalie is researching different sites when David says.

“You know the more I think about it, the more I like the idea. I have a bunch of press events to do and it would be so much easier if I didn’t have to talk about Liza over and over again. VidCon is coming up, New York stuff is coming up, premieres, the teen awards, and a million other things-”

“Look! I found a legit looking site.” Natalie interrupts. David looks over Natalie’s shoulder as she makes a profile for him and starts scrolling through. She stops on you, “Oooo, she’s pretty isn’t she?” She says glancing towards David.

David sit up and looks closer towards the screen. “Yeah… Yeah she’s actually really pretty.” He smiles to himself as he stares at your picture on the screen. “Wonder why she’s on an escort site.” He casually questions.

Natalie looks over at him. “Who knows David. The girl in my book starts escorting because her dad got into some trouble with a loan shark and the loan sharks beat her dad up so he had to go to the hospital. Then the loan sharks pinned all the money on her so she has to pay it back or else they’ll kill her dad. But I can’t imagine these girls have that dramatic of stories. I’m sure she’s just paying student loans or something.” She chuckles.

David looks at Natalie wide eyed. “What the fuck are you even reading?” She shrugs. “So, should I message her?”

“Oh, shit, I don’t know-” David started to feel weird about the whole situation. “You really think it’s a good idea to hire someone to be my fake girlfriend for a month?”

“Don’t you want the diza stans off your back? And you’ll finally be able to talk about something else in interviews.” Natalie said.

David sighed. He knew Natalie was right. “Fine. You can message her but I want to sleep on it.” And with that he got up and left the room while Natalie started writing to you.

(Y/N)’s POV:

*ding ding* *new email notification* You go over to your phone to check your new email. It was from the escort site, the agency you worked for, called DiamondTimes.

You weren’t particularly happy to have to start escorting but you were broke and needed something easy to pay the rent while you worked at some shitty deli shop that you were definitely being underpaid for. But you were trying to get an internship with any PR company so you needed to find someway to pay the rent. Times were tough but you made it through and these escort gigs were definitely a major reason you were surviving. You tried not to take the jobs where they wanted you to have sex with them unless you unbelievably desperate. Most of the time you skated by going on dates and acting like the man’s girlfriend, or if they needed companionship and just wanted to talk, or had very specific fetishes that didn’t require you to have sex with them. You had to do what you had to do.

The message from David Dobrik read-

Hi! This is Natalie David Dobrik’s assistant. We wanted to contact you to see if you would be interested in being the fake girlfriend of my boss for a month. He is a youtuber so basically you would pretend to be his girlfriend for his channel and for press events during the month. This job would include a lot of social media presence and travel. Send me a message if the idea interests you and we can facetime to talk further details!

Wow this sounds interesting. You thought to yourself. I’ve never worked on one job for an entire month. If I left my shit job for too long they would definitely fire me. Not like it would matter. They pay shit and I’d be working for this guy. And this social media thing could work for experience to get a job with a PR firm! That last thought sold you. You messaged back immediately giving Natalie your number and told her you could facetime anytime she had the chance. As you wrote the message you wondered who David Dobrik was since you didn’t watch too much YouTube.

You, incredibly quickly, got a message from an unknown number that read -

Hello! This in Natalie from the site. I know this is so quick and it’s late but if you can facetime right now that would be great!

You were a bit shocked how quickly it was all happening but you just went with it in stride. You took the facetime with Natalie. She explained the job you would be doing if you accepted it in further detail. You both even had a few laughs during the conversation. You asked a few questions. You then asked if you could sleep on it. She said of course and you ended the call.

You woke up the next morning feeling refreshed and excited. You thought, why the heck not! It pays, no sex is required, and its a new adventure in a new city! You texted back Natalie immediately saying - I’m in!

She replies quickly. OMG yay! Okay I’m booking the flight now!

#david dobrik #david dobrik fanfiction #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik series #vlog squad fanfic #vlog squad fic #david dobrik x you #love for hire

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thestoryofhiccstrid · 5 years

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HICCSTRID ONE SHOT: NIGHTMARES

So today is a very very special day!! Indeed, it's the birthday of my bestie @foreverandalwayshttyd , and I wanted to write you a little something sweetie ♡ I really hope you will like it, even though it will never be as good as I wish it could since you deserve the very best! Love you lot, you make me the happiest and I'm beyond grateful to have you! AND HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYY GIRLIE!!! I WISH YOU A YEAR FULL OF HAPPINESS, UNFORGETTABLE MEMORIES AND LOVE <3

Now, as for the context, it's taking place in rtte, after season 3 episode 5 :) I'm so sorry for all the mistakes I've made (hopefully not too much!!) Enjoy :D

☆☆☆☆☆

Astrid couldn't stop turning around in her bed, and her hut had never seemed so nerve-wracking and scary. There was sweat dripping on her forehead and her temples. It seemed to her that the bedroom was burning and that she couldn't do anything to make it stop, to put an end to this agonizing heat.

Her heart was racing, as if he was threatening to get out of her rib cage at any moment. Her headache and her arms shaking did not help to realise her overwhelming urge to find a normal breathing again and a less blurred view. She just could't focus on anything else than herself on the brink of death.

She was about to cry, and she hated that. Indeed, she couldn't cry just because of a nightmare! She was a strong and fierce girl, undoubtedly fearless! She was Astrid Hofferson for Thor's sake!

Well, even if she was repeating to herself this anchored thought of her, her shivers wouldn't stop, just like her heart pounding. It looked so true, she could feel the huge pain of the Scourge of Odin all over again, and it was simply so exhausting.

Suddenly, she heard someone knocking on her door boldly.

_ "Astrid, you forgot your knives on the table of the central pavilion. I ... I wanted to give them back to you... Can I come in?"

She immediately recognized the familiar nasally voice of Hiccup that she liked more than she would admit, always shy about her increasing feelings for him that were quite scaring her about how deep they were, and the last thing that she wanted was him seeing her being a total mess.

Since he didn't get any reply, he soon started to worry and decided to knock again, the want to make sure that she was okay devouring him.

But still, no reply at all.

_ "Astrid? Astrid! Are you okay?" he said, his voice full of concern for the girl that, only a week ago, caused him the fear of his life, but also the same girl that was always the main character of his craziest dreams (that may or may not include a passionate and all so desired kiss), since... well... since as long as he could remember.

_ "Yes, don't... don't worry Hiccup, I will take them tomorrow. But thanks."

She felt so guilty about not opening her front door to her... best friend? That was what he was to her, right? Or maybe more? No, what was she thinking about! And even if she had developed feelings for him, which is clearly not the case, would it be mutual?

She didn't know anymore... Another thing she wants to figure out, since there were so many different feelings rushing in her heart at the same time whenever his cute face full of freckles was in front of her. And his bright emerald eyes, those that looks at her like nobody else do, and that definitely were her weakness. She could litteraly get lost into them.

She thought for so long that he was just her best friend and nothing more than the guy who share with her the taste for adventure, the guy that completely changed her opinion about dragons and war, the guy the most awkward yet cute she ever met, the guy the most caring and protective and faithful to his convictions, and attractive...

By Odin! Did she just admit to herself that she found him attractive? Her?? And meaned every word she said, if not more???

She was so not the type of girl paying attention and importance about looks, but she had to admit that Hiccup was no longer a pretty boy with a sweet smile. No, he was so much more than that.

She just didn't want to put words on it, so afraid that it might reveal her obvious feelings for him, her uncontrollable want to be with him, to make him understand how much he means to her, how much she couldn't picture herself waking up without seeing his usual grin with his adorable crooked teeths, or his excitement about a new exploration that obviously imply rescuing dragons (and she wouldn't want it any other way).

How much she couldn't imagine doing any mission without him, get some sleep without saying him goodnight, eating if she was not sitting on her usual chair because then she would have to deal with the twins stealing her food or worse, having Snotlout teasing her about how she can't live without him.

How much she cherishes every single thing that makes him him.

She didn't know how long she had been lost in her thoughts, but she was unquestionably really shocked to hear him again, testifying that he was still here and that he won't give up. Why she's not even surprised? He's definitely stubborn when he wants to, and she also deeply love that part of him. As most as she find his determination heartwarming, her flushed cheeks and her dilated pupils clearly don't want to confront his gaze, not now!

_ "Astrid, I don't want to appear intrusive or anything, but I feel like you was trying to avoid me today... Did I do something wrong? If it's the case, I'm so sorry! You know I'm here for you and that you can tell me anything and... yeah I really hope you're okay after everything you've been through this past few months. I... I miss spending time with you..."

That was it. She couldn't take it anymore. She let hot tears rolling down along her blushing cheeks, trying her best to choke her sobs. She felt so weak, so vulnerable, so fragile at this very moment.

And him, he was so nice to her, so receptive at any move she make, at any tone of voice she use. He was always there for her, exactly like he said, making sure she feels alright, happy and surrounded, offering her all the support she could wish for and even more than that.

And her? What did she do? What did she do to deserve this amount of goodwill and kindness and this unstinting support ? Was she really losing her self-confidence?

She obviously didn't wanted to be an emotional wreck. She had to believe that those horrible nightmares will come to an end with all her might!

Thus, she wiped her tears with determination and decided that the bravest thing that she could do right now was to open the door to him. After all, if there is someone in this world that won't judge anyone, it's him for sure.

_ "Hi Hiccup! Don't you worry, you didn't do anything wrong, like at all! Hum... Well... it's not you that have to apologize... I mean, I don't know where I would be without you... you litteraly saved my life and I can't think of a way to thank you enough, to repay you... I am so sorry, I didn't wanted to hurt you!!!"

And with that confession out of her chest, quiet sobs returned in spite of herself.

Instinctively, he pulled her against his chest, wrapped his arms around her waist and cradled her delicately while drawing gentle circles in the small of her back.

She immediately relaxed and put her head in the crook of his neck, taking the time to breathe his woody scent, which reminds her so much of the forge and all the hours of work he spends inside. Everything became more peaceful and bearable. It was as if this place in the hollow of his arms was meant for her. It felt like home. The precise place where she can be herself, and she was definitely overwhelmed by love right now.

She opened her eyes and dared maintaining his gaze but what she found was no longer determination. It was without a doubt hesitation.

_ "What is it? Are you feeling uncomfortable about this?"

_ "What? No! No, no, no, no, no! It's just... argh!"

_ "It's just what?", she replied, squeezing his hand in order to encourage him to continue.

_ "Forget it, it's not that important anyway", he answered, trying to avoid her gaze.

_ "What happened to you?"

_ "What are you saying?"

_ "We promised to always tell each other the truth!"

_ "Are you telling me that I'm lying to you?! Seriously Astrid?!"

_ "Up to you to convince me otherwise!"

_ "Is it the lack of sleep that makes you say things like that?"

_ "WHAT?? Say that again to see!!!"

_ "I'm just saying that I'm not hiding anything from you Astrid! But what about you, huh? You haven't told me anything lately!"

_ "Okay, well, what do you want to know?!"

_ "I don't know! How are you feeling, why are you avoiding me, how do you manage to make me feel so insecure about our friendship..."

_ "Our friendship? You question our bond?!"

_ "NO! OF COURSE NOT! It's still not my fault if everything you do makes me doubt!"

_ "I don't follow you... doubts about what??"

_ "About us!! I... urgh! I just... I just... let me show you"

Without another word, he crushed his lips againt her own, and both of their hearts skipped a beat. He said he wanted to show her, that's what he will do. He cupped both of her cheeks, leaned a little more and tilted his head a little for having a better angle to take control.

Her lips were so soft, so perfect, so addictive! He felt like he was in heaven. He took the time to memorize every new sensation, every little sigh and moan, exploring every inch of her divine lips who had become in a quarter of a second his favorite place of all time, as if they were meant to be pressed against him own.

Paying attention of any possible sign of reluctance, he definitely felt more alive than ever when she answered fervently, wrapping her arms against his neck, which send shivers along his spine and made him groan of pleasure.

She even intensified the kiss, brushing her lips against his own languorously while mobilizing an infinite tenderness at each new meeting, full of anticipation.

They kissed with passion until they were forced to part to catch their breath, which they did grudgingly.

He scanned her face and found an Astrid grinning from ear to ear, with cheeks flushed red and pupils blacker than ever. As for him, his blissful smile and the soft tingling on his lips were the proof that he only wanted one thing: repeat this delightful moment as many times as she would allow him.

_ "This sounds kinda familiar" she said, her eyes sparkling and focused on his reaction.

_ "I think I'm definitely more comfortable when I directly show you what I mean. Note that this time I didn't throw you on a branch" he admitted with a teasing smile.

_ "I think so too, and I appreciate it, really", she confirmed, letting out a chuckle that made his heart melt instantly. He wished he could hear her laugh on repeat.

_ "I'm so sorry Astrid, I feel so dumb to have waited this long! I was so scared about losing you, I- I..."

_ "Shhh.. that was amazing! You are amazing Hiccup, and if there is someone who must apologize, it's really me! Wanting to repress my feelings was propably the worst idea I ever have! The only thing holding me back was the fear of ruining our friendship, and I would never have forgiven myself if that had happened! But I definitely want to be more for you" she confessed, eyes filled with hope.

_ "And I definitely want you to be your boyfriend, you insomniac", which earned him a light punch in the shoulder, but it was all worth it because what followed made him feel high, as if he was able to touch the sky, and this time, Toothless wasn't there to make fun of him (but he'll catch up eventually).

#hiccstrid fic #hiccstrid #rtte #httyd #astrid hofferson #hiccup haddock #birthday #gift for my bestie

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astromechs · 4 years

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anything that’s worth my love (is worth the fight)

idk, oneshot, character/relationship study thing, who knows. also i didn’t reread the bendis issues about the cancerverse before i wrote this, so i took some liberties and fuck bendis canon anyway

also on ao3!

Peter Quill is a strange guy.

It’s not the most profound assessment, but it’s about the best that Rich has, even after almost three months of working with him. Just by looking at him, you’d think that he’d be one of those painfully serious guys out of an old movie, dark, brooding, and mysterious. But over time, it becomes clear that, in a lot of ways, he’s the opposite; he seems to come to life more and more by the day, a ghost of a smile here, something like a bad joke there, a lot of offhand comments that seemingly come out of nowhere but somehow prove to be completely relevant.

Rich finds that his eyes have developed a tendency to linger on Peter for probably longer than they should, as if just staring will somehow get him closer to figuring the guy out.

That’s it. Nothing more to it than that.

There’s no real reason that he’s continuing to watch as Peter walks away, and—

“Richard.” He’s still not used to the voice that’s now a part of him, yet he can't imagine life without it, either, somehow. (It’s not entirely a bad thing; he’ll take his comforts where he can get them, even if said comforts have an annoying habit of always waking him up in the middle of a few precious hours of sleep.) “I have found that your heart rate increases by an average of twelve percent whenever you are in the proximity of Peter Quill. I am analyzing — ”

“Shut up, Worldmind,” he cuts in flatly, but the words don’t leave his mind for weeks afterward.

ii.

Worldmind had calculated this plan’s probability of success to sit somewhere at approximately four percent, but Rich had thought that had been generous.

Direct assault has pretty much never been an option against the Annihilation Wave up to this point; this whole thing has been a game of finding the best time to evacuate civilians, and then retreat. He’d like for that to not be true, sure, because, well, maybe he hadn’t paid as much attention as he should have in his high school history classes, but he’s pretty sure no one has ever won a war purely through retreats. Even so, though, the fact is that even in the best case scenario of the United Front not running on basically a skeleton crew of troops, they’d still be massively overpowered, outgunned, and everything else.

But Peter had been right; something had to change to turn the tide, and this had been their best opportunity to strike. The crazy son of a schlag had just decided to do it himself before anyone else could argue.

That’s the long and short of how Rich had gotten here, crouched on the ground next to a second-in-command who had also just given them the biggest advantage they’ve had in months by putting himself in the blast radius of a well-placed bomb. And said second-in-command is still in one piece, somehow; a little worse for the wear, judging by the way he favors his right side as he tries to lift his body into a sitting position, but nothing that won’t see a full recovery.

There are about a million things on Rich’s mind, but each one gets away at light speed before he can grab on, and all he’s left with is a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that hasn’t managed to disappear. He swallows down the dryness in his throat, and when he opens his mouth to speak, all that comes out is:

“You’re crazy.”

“Maybe.” Peter shrugs in response, and after a moment, he actually smirks through the blood trickling from his bottom lip. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

There’s a part of Rich that’s definitely pissed, but the rest of him can’t help the smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth.

(And, okay, he can’t lie; he probably would’ve done the same thing.)

Peter Quill may, truly, be the craziest man he’s ever met in his life, but there’s a possibility that they could win this whole damn war because of him.

iii.

They’ve managed to gain some ground, but Krelar still falls.

It’s a brutal loss, probably the most brutal in a whole war full of them; a hidden horde of the Wave had decimated thousands of civilians before they could even retreat, and those who’d been left of the United Front had barely made it off the planet themselves. They’re all shaken, deeply, and Rich had ordered everyone to tend to their wounds and get some sleep before reconvening at the end of the night cycle.

An order he knows he won’t follow himself.

He tries, though, for a time, tries to lie back on his pillow in his quarters and shut his eyes; he can go without rest longer than most, but even with the entire Nova Force inside him, he’s still pushing his limits. But when he does, he sees Kree falling on all sides, hears their screams as they do. He sees Xandar dying around him, just as he has in his mind’s eye. Death, just death, and even with all this power, he’s always helpless to do nothing but watch it happen….

His feet hit the floor, wander the corridors aimlessly, until they end up at the door of Peter’s quarters.

It opens before he can even knock.

They stand there for a time in silence, Peter looking as lost and haunted as he feels. There’s nothing to say, anyway; no platitudes will bring the planet back, gallows humor can only go so far, and with both of those options gone, well. That’s it.

Except —

Peter leans in and presses his mouth to Rich’s, and Rich doesn’t take the time to think about what’s happening, instead pulling Peter’s body as close to his as possible. They stumble through the doorway like this, a tangle of lips and hands searching for some kind of solid reassurance.

It doesn’t make anything better, because there’s nothing that can, but by the time Rich wakes up after managing a couple of hours of sleep, head resting on Peter’s bare chest and the rhythmic thud of a heartbeat in his ear, he thinks he can stand on solid enough ground to take a next step.

iv.

“Let me buy you a beer” had turned into three over the past hour, with a fourth probably soon to come, and while Rich feels guilty about it on some level, Peter continues to insist. It’s returning the favor, he says, for the tip about Knowhere, which has proven to be a pretty good base for his team, some hiccups aside. And:

“You look like you need it more than I do.”

After the — week, month, six months, year? — he’s had, he can’t really find it in him to argue.

Starlin’s has most of its usual clientele this evening, the loud, violent crowd that sees at least three bar fights broken up before it’s forced to disperse. A few broken bottles fly past their table at various points through this, but they’re otherwise left alone; being a war hero commands some respect in certain ways.

“I went back,” Rich finds himself saying a time after the bar quiets down, swirling the mug in his hand absently. “To Earth, I mean. First time since everything went down.”

Peter turns in his seat, attention fully focused on him, something like concern in his eyes (both human, no cybernetics anywhere, which is still taking some getting used to). He doesn’t say anything, and Rich takes that as his cue to continue.

“It was like…” He trails off, and it takes him a moment to commit to a train of thought. “No one even cared. The universe as we know it was almost gone, and all anyone could think about was fighting among themselves. This whole damn galactic war happening right above their heads, and nothing even changed for them.”

It all has a bitter taste coming out of his mouth, more than he’d actually intended it to, but he can’t deny that now that it’s out there, he feels like a massive weight has been taken off of his chest. He feels — better, somehow.

“But.” Rich drains the rest of the contents his mug after a beat. “Home is home, you know.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, and Rich thinks it sounds a little distant. “Home is home.” He reaches a hand toward one of Rich’s, gives it a brief squeeze before letting go.

Maybe it’s the fourth beer he’s now starting, but Rich has a wild thought that right here, right now, he could feel more at home than he has anywhere in a long time.

It’s so quiet that the sound of Rich’s own breathing pounds in his ears. For a reality where life has supposedly won, it seems awfully dead; visibility stretches for miles on end, and as far as he can tell, there isn’t a single sign of movement anywhere. Worldmind’s report from his helmet’s scanners chime in at the thought, but confirm what he already knew.

He peels off his helmet, because everything’s getting too stuffy. He thinks it shouldn’t surprise him that that doesn’t provide any kind of relief.

Next to him, Peter kicks the Cosmic Cube on the ground, and it clinks against an outcropping of rock.

“Thing’s dead,” he says, voice still breathless from their last seemingly never-ending encounter with the Revengers, from dying and being resurrected repeatedly. (Turns out, that kind of thing can take a toll. Who knew.) “Next time they come back, we’re gonna get our asses kicked even worse.”

Rich’s eyes drop to the ground, drift over to the Cube and stay there as something starts to occur to him. It’d had one shot, sure, and they’d already blown it, but what if a source of massive power could charge it again? What if — “Maybe not.”

He’s trapped here, probably forever; it doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out. He accepts it, too, because he’d known his choices when he’d followed Peter in here, and if he could do everything all over again, he wouldn’t change any of them. Robbie, his mom and dad, every single being on countless worlds are safe. That’s what matters.

But before that door is shut for good, he can open another. One he himself can’t walk through, because someone has to hold it; it’s the only way.

Peter deserves so much more than being stuck here in a barren wasteland, fighting and dying and coming back to life again, and again, and again. He deserves a chance to live in the universe that he’d helped to save. And Rich can give him that; it’s the least he owes him. For everything.

He bends down to gently lift the Cosmic Cube with the tips of his fingers.

“Rich — ?” It seems to dawn on Peter before he can even finish the question, and out of the corner of his eye, Rich can see Peter’s widen in horror. “Rich, wait.”

He closes his eyes and concentrates, tuning out the screams and everything else around him.

“Rich!”

Nova Force rips through his cells, and it feels almost warm.

#richard rider #peter quill #riderquill #* fic #my stuff #throws canon out the window #yeet #also here's to me singlehandedly repping the rich rider fandom on ao3 right now #why does that guy have like no fics about him smh!!#also after a point i stopped proofreading this and just decided to yeet it so please tell me if there are issues thank u

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nightqueendany · 5 years

Text

The Original Final Season 7 - Preface

Okay guys. I’m still polishing up some of the later episodes, but this whole thing is almost done. And as motivation to make me finish the later episodes and publish them, I’m going to give you Episode 1 today, in a post directly following this one. If you do not see the link just yet, simply refresh this post and I should have put it in place, pending no issues with my Internet connection.

I’ve talked about this A LOT. What follows below and in subsequent weeks (I’m going to make you guys suffer, I’m going to put each episode out weekly) is 1) my explanation for WHY specifically I believe there was an “Original Final Season 7” and also, 2) WHAT I believe that Final Season contained.

NOTE: I will refer to the actual show events of Seasons 7 and 8 as “show canon” and will refer to my speculation as “Original Final Season 7.”

*Disclaimer because I have this weird feeling I’m going to get bombarded with anons asking me for links to “the original scripts” or interviews where this is all mentioned or something:

THIS IS ALL MY OWN SPECULATION. NONE OF THIS HAS BEEN PROVEN TRUE. THERE ARE NO “ORIGINAL SCRIPTS” FOR A FINAL SEASON 7...THAT I KNOW OF.

Alright, now that that’s taken care of, I’m gonna lay this out here for you guys. (Parts of this may get fanficky but whatever, this is what makes the most sense in my mind based on what we’ve got on the table).

(Also note, this series will be really really fucking long because it includes what I *think* the original Season was, and evidence from aired episodes as to why I think that, along with long-winded, detailed descriptions of scenes, etc. Sorry not sorry)

Here is how I went about this speculation to determine what I believe was likely the “Original Final Season 7”:

1) I looked for instances in the series as a whole where plots were never finished OR scenes/lines were either retconned or never paid off - i.e. Dany’s S2 throne room scene script clearly saying “snow” and in 8x06 it’s now ash - post Emmy script release note: the script may say “snow” but remember, it’s the same day as the attack on the city from 8x05 when it was sunny and super hot outside. Either the script was changed just to make it say “snow” OR it was snow in the 8x06 episode, but D&D literally changed the fucking weather just to make it snowing in Dany’s throne room scene when King’s Landing hasn’t had snow since 7x07. Either way, something was retconned and it’s fucking idiotic and hella obvious.

2) I examined Seasons 7&8 specifically for the same things - scenes/lines never paid off or left unfinished/unexplained, i.e. Yara’s line “somewhere the dead can’t go” when this was never needed because the Night King was defeated in one episode; also all the baby talk between Jon and Dany and Dany never being pregnant in show canon.

3) I looked for instances in the series where a plot was “undone” in a very short span of time. Meaning, something that could have taken seasons upon seasons for buildup but was scrapped or easily deconstructed an episode later or same episode - i.e. Jaime/Brienne finally getting together in 8x04 and Jaime leaving Brienne that same episode; also Theon rescuing Yara from Euron’s ship very easily in 8x01 when she was a captive for most of Season 7.

4) And lastly, I looked for things that have been said/mentioned either in show canon or by cast/staff that ignores something previous that is a contradiction of their words - i.e. Jon pledging to Dany in 7x06 after she already said she would help him and Jon in 8x01 saying he gave up his crown so Dany would come help OR Dan Weiss saying in 7x05 that Dany isn’t mad and isn’t her father and then in S8 naming Dany the “Mad Queen”.

There are many of these instances in the series so it wasn’t hard to map out a rough outline of what I believe the “Original Final Season 7” was.

So, why do I even think there even was an original, final Season 7 outline/possibly even an entire Season of script? Why do I think this a likely possibility rather than me just being a delusional Dany Stan who wanted a different ending for my fave?

Back as early as 2013, after season 3 ended, the number 7 was being thrown around. Seven seasons to finish the series.

[Producer Frank] Doelger said: “[The number of series (seasons)] is being discussed as we speak. The third season was the first half of book three, season four will be the second part of book three. George RR Martin has written books four and five; six and seven are pending....I would hope that, if we all survive, and if the audience stays with us we’ll probably get through to seven seasons.”

Keep in mind, at this same time, D&D had also JUST had their meeting with George about the series endpoints.

“Last year we went out to Santa Fe for a week to sit down with him [Martin] and just talk through where things are going, because we don’t know if we are going to catch up and where exactly that would be. If you know the ending, then you can lay the groundwork for it. And so we want to know how everything ends. We want to be able to set things up. So we just sat down with him and literally went through every character.”

Vanity Fair, March 24th, 2014 (LAST year being spring 2013)

So this meeting on the series conclusion took place right when D&D were just polishing up the scripts for Season 4, before filming began that summer). A year after their meeting with George, (the same 2014 Vanity Fair article), D&D apparently played with the idea of an eighth season, but that could have just been the reporter’s speculation.

In other interviews, they were fairly adamant about 7 being the “magic number.” And back in the very beginning when Dave and Dan first started Thrones, they always said they imagined the series taking 70-75 hours to tell the story - so again, the equivalent of 70 episodes or a normal full 7 Seasons of 10 episodes each).

With the major complaint from both last season and season 8 being that it felt “rushed” however, people may wonder how the hell the series was supposed to conclude after Season 6. However, when you think about it, Season 7 being the final season doesn’t seem that odd if it were originally going to be a regular 10 episode arc. The final two seasons only totaled 13 episodes anyway, so really, it’s just three fewer episodes than in the version that we got. And if some episodes in the final Season 7 were over an hour long, the series as a whole would easily reach that 70-75 hours D&D always talked about.

So, what was the original 10 episode final Season 7 supposed to look like?

Season 7 Episode 1: ?

Season 7 Episode 2: ?

Season 7 Episode 3: ?

Season 7 Episode 4: ?

Season 7 Episode 5: ?

Season 7 Episode 6: ?

Season 7 Episode 7: ?

Season 7 Episode 8: ?

Season 7 Episode 9: ?

Season 7 Episode 10: ?

To figure out the outline of the 10 Episode Final Season, let’s start near the end.

ONE FINAL BATTLE

Author George R.R. Martin, whose series of novels forms the basis for Thrones, had revealed to the duo the broad strokes of how his Song of Ice and Fire saga secretly ends, including a description of an epic FINAL BATTLE that’s been teased from the show’s VERY FIRST SCENE. But this climactic confrontation was miles out of reach for a series that cost about $5 million per episode. “We have a very generous budget from HBO, but we know what’s coming down the line and, ultimately, it’s not generous enough,” Benioff said.

When Entertainment Weekly interviewed D&D back during the filming of Season 3, D&D made it sound like George had planned only ONE final battle - the battle between the living and the dead. Not two battles, one with the living against the dead and another later battle with the living against the living. Just ONE.

(Also should note, this says the FINAL BATTLE was teased from the show’s FIRST scene, which contained the White Walkers but not Daenerys. Daenerys didn’t even appear in the episode until sometime much later meaning the “epic final battle” was about the White Walkers, not Dany burning down King’s Landing as we got in show canon).

Both the books and the show begin by showing the audience the threat beyond the Wall. This is the main threat. This is the main event. The Game of Thrones doesn’t matter and is a distraction for both the audience and the characters. In GRRM’s original outline, he explicitly says that the greatest threat to the realm of Westeros is the Others and that there will be one final battle.

So this was our original “Episode 9”. Literally and figuratively. Episode 9 is always supposed to be the episode where the craziest thing happens in the entire season - Ned’s death, Battle of Blackwater, Red Wedding, Battle at Castle Black, Dany flying away on Drogon from the fighting pits of Meereen, Battle of the Bastards.

The only exception to this could be argued to be Season 5 as Jon Snow is killed in Episode 10, not episode 9. However, the change in structure of the season was probably the biggest clue to the audience that Jon wasn’t going to stay dead, as they had never ended a season on a cliffhanger of the death of a major character. We’ve always been given one more episode afterward to process said character’s death.

If Jon were going to die and stay dead, he would have died in Season 5 Episode 9, because of this pattern: Season 1 Episode 9 - Stark death (Ned). Season 2 Episode 9 - Battle (Blackwater). Season 3 Episode 9 - Stark death (Robb). Season 4 Episode 9 - Battle (Castle Black). Season 5 Episode 9 - no Stark death (where there should have been - and a Battle was in Episode 8 - Hardhome). Season 6 Episode 9 makes up for the flaw in the pattern where we get a Battle and a Stark death (Rickon).

Ergo, based on George’s original outline, D&D’s previous statements about George’s plan, and the pattern, 7x09 was the original Battle for the Dawn. So that’s what I’ll call this episode.

Season 7 Episode 1: ?

Season 7 Episode 2: ?

Season 7 Episode 3: ?

Season 7 Episode 4: ?

Season 7 Episode 5: ?

Season 7 Episode 6: ?

Season 7 Episode 7: ?

Season 7 Episode 8: ?

Season 7 Episode 9: The Battle For The Dawn

Season 7 Episode 10: ?

I don’t want to give the entire season away just yet, as I’ll be posting each episode in full detail, but I will fill in one more “event” from the outline above.

In the 7x06 Inside the Episode, David Benioff said something that I’ve always found very interesting.

“The whole path of the show, in some way, had been trying to map out all the episode endpoints and with this one, it was the dragon opening its blue eye. And realizing that the Night King has finally gotten his own weapon of mass destruction.”

This statement really made me think because a) it tells us how D&D planned the series - mapping everything out by episode endpoints. And b) Benioff doesn’t say “the ending of the penultimate episode of Season 7.” He just says, “this one.” So this tells me, if anything, D&D had always planned to kill Viserion and have the Night King raise him as his mount. BUT it also tells me this was always meant to happen in 7x06, regardless of when Season 7 ended….either at an Episode 7 or an Episode 10.

Season 7 Episode 1: ?

Season 7 Episode 2: ?

Season 7 Episode 3: ?

Season 7 Episode 4: ?

Season 7 Episode 5: ?

Season 7 Episode 6: ends with Wight!Viserion opening his blue eye

Season 7 Episode 7: ?

Season 7 Episode 8: ?

Season 7 Episode 9: The Battle For The Dawn

Season 7 Episode 10: ?

So what does each episode of the “Original Final Season 7″ look like? The following posts will be my rendering of a final, ten-episode Season 7 with explanations as to why certain events happen and why they’re likely based on the show canon, Seasons 7 and 8.

Without further adieu, here is what I believe to be the Original Final Season 7:

(Links to come weekly as I post each Episode, if link does not work immediately, just refresh a few times until it does. Two episodes today as Episode 1 is very short and familiar, Episode 3 next Tuesday!)

Original Final Season 7: Preface Post (Current Episode)

Season 7 Episode 1: Family, Duty, Honor

Season 7 Episode 2: Greywater Watch

Season 7 Episode 3: The Last of the Dragons

Season 7 Episode 4: Dragonglass

Season 7 Episode 5: The Storm

Season 7 Episode 6: Summerhall

Season 7 Episode 7: A City Fit For A King

Season 7 Episode 8: Protectors of the Realm

Season 7 Episode 9: The Battle For The Dawn

Season 7 Episode 10: ?

#game of thrones #daenerys targaryen #daenerys defense squad #jon snow #jon snow defense squad #anti got #anti D&D

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ks-caster · 4 years

Text

Letters to Gabriel

Fandom: Heroes

Characters: Elle, Gabriel

Notes: Throughout her arc, Elle develops a coping mechanism where she writes letters to Gabriel - even though she’s often betraying or being betrayed by him, somehow writing her thoughts to him helps.

Gabriel and Peter are going through old Pinehurst files, and Gabe finds a manila envelope full of these letters - she kept them, and they were archived.

Letters 1 and 2, as well as the rest of the outline, are available under the cut.

Chapter 1:

Dear Gabriel,

They didn’t tell me how cute you were.

Or how depressed.

It was just supposed to be a simple meet ‘n’ greet assignment; I go in, say hello, plug my name into the back of your head for when it’s needed later, and then walk off the face of the earth until next time.

Well, you know that’s not how it happened.

My hands are shaking. This has been the craziest afternoon. And now here I am, sitting in a corner of an unused office, writing a letter that I can never send, to a guy I barely know. I’m not good at dealing with stress and fear and uncertainty… all those uncomfortable, nagging emotions that no one—at least in my line of work—ever has. Or at least, they don’t admit to them.

My father has told me all my life that I’m supposed to be stronger, smarter, better. I can’t stoop to being mediocre in anything, and God forbid I should be below-average. So I can’t be worried, not in front of anyone. I can’t be shocked and disturbed that I almost walked in on your dead body. That’s why I’m scribbling my thoughts to a complete stranger on a memo pad I found—okay, stole from—beside Bennett’s phone. I’ve gotta do something, so maybe this will help me calm down before I break down into a nervous wreck.

After I left your shop, Bennett told me that we’re not just observing you because you have a power. We’re waiting for you to kill someone. Bennett said that we needed to see you hunt “in the wild,” because transferring power from one vessel to another is extremely rare. But I’m guessing that the homemade noose—a sturdy thing; I can’t believe that you actually bought it when I said it broke on its own—might just be an indicator that you’re not interested in killing anymore. Maybe what you did before was a fluke. Maybe we’re wrong in our analysis. Maybe we’re totally off-base, and you didn’t kill the guy at all.

But then, why would you try to hang yourself?

Okay, so you probably did murder him. But, well, I’m an agent—if a junior one—and I’ve killed loads of people. You offed one guy… It’s hard for me to remember that kind of… of innocence. I have to go pretty far back. Actually, I don’t even remember the first person I killed, so I have trouble understanding what the big deal is. But it’s sort of sad, still. You seem like an all-around decent guy who made a mistake that can’t ever be fixed.

And you said I was like an angel. When you looked at me, your eyes were so full of light. I’m a manipulative, violent, compassionless bitch, who dreams of becoming a good enough femme fatale to impress her high-standards father. But when you finally got around to figuring out that I was there, when you asked me for my name, when you said I was like an angel… nobody’s ever looked at me like that. Certainly no one’s ever asked for forgiveness from me. More importantly, I was never the kind of person who would ever even consider giving forgiveness if it was asked.

Your face, the way you saw me, what you said… I liked it. It was like I was actually a nice person, for the first time in, well, ever.

Even though it’ll be pretty bad luck for you, I look forward to seeing you again. I want to see your face, and see you look at me like I’m an angel.

I want the excuse to act like I’m an angel again.

Until next time,

Elle.

The letter was written on lined notepad paper with the Primatech logo in the bottom right-hand corner of each mini-sheet. It had been folded several different ways, and also torn in half—all at once, by the slant—and carefully repaired with scotch tape.

Behind him the lock on the door rattled as a key was inserted, and Gabriel took a deep breath and then slid the whole stack of papers back into the envelope, closed it, and hid it inside of his shirt. After spending several virtual years alone with Peter in the dreary loneliness of his mind, Gabriel didn’t keep too many secrets from his friend. But this… until he’d read the whole thing, he wanted it to be just his. Not so much secret as personal, he decided, and that was okay. He was entitled to a little privacy.

Chapter 2:

Elle’s second letter was written on the backs of old calendar pages. On one side of each piece of paper a month was divided into little squares for each date, and on the other side her simple, slanted script filled the entire page with dark blue ink.

Gabriel had taken the big manila envelope back to the hotel room he was sharing with Peter, and had laid the stack out neatly on the desk, in the order they had been in originally. He resisted the urge to look ahead; he had all the letters, so he might as well read them in the order in which they were written. Besides, this might be the only record left of Elle Bishop’s life, thanks to the efficiency of people like Bennett who wouldn’t want dead agents to leave a paper trail. Out of respect for her, he decided, he would read the letters in order, leaving the memory stick for last, since she clearly wasn’t very high-tech in the beginning.

Dear Gabriel, the second letter began.

Hey, it’s me again. You know, I’ve never actually had peach pie before; it was good.

Being with you… was good.

From the moment I stepped through the door, I was walking on air. I was expecting the “angel look” again, but the whole night, I got something better, something I never knew I’d ever want. You looked at me like I was… me. Not “Agent Bishop,” not the Director’s-Creepy-Twisted-Protégé-Daughter, just me, and no one else. All evening, I was just “Elle.” And it was wonderful.

You said you fought with a hunger for more abilities, that you had wanted to be “more special,” and that now you think it’s okay to be ordinary. But oh, Gabriel, you’ll never be ordinary. No one ordinary could ever make me—me!—feel so calm, so complete, so at-home.

Gabriel, I don’t care how corny that romantically-retarded Bennett said it was. I stand by what I said: you are special just the way you are.

And some tiny corner of my brain, the part of me that still has enough human left in it to care, is utterly repulsed and terrified by what I’m about to do to you.

I tried—well, okay; my attempt was lame and went nowhere. I bucked at the reins a little, that’s a better way of putting it. I told Bennett after I left that I thought your suicide attempt was a wake-up call; that I didn’t think you’d kill again if left to your own devices. I even said I refused to turn you into a monster.

But then he reminded me that if I didn’t follow orders, I wasn’t an agent, and if I wasn’t an agent, I couldn’t stay with the company. I’ve been trained—as Bennett reminded me—since I was four years old, by my father, who believed in me, who supported me, who groomed me to be the best and brightest. If I’m not with the company, then… where am I supposed to go?

He’s my dad. He’s put so much effort into raising me. I can’t betray him.

Not even for someone who makes me feel as… as right as you do.

I gotta stop writing you letters, seriously. I have the one from the day we met stashed in the bottom of my jewelry box—dunno why I kept that one—but there have been others, just notes, really, scribbled on napkins or post-its. Like I said in the first one, I don’t really know what to do when something’s wrong, you know, in my head. Whenever I’m upset or hurting or just surprised about something, I always “tell you,” even though I’m not actually sending you, the real live Gabriel, any of these letters. It became a habit practically over the night, and it’s sticking like a leech. I’ve tried keeping a journal instead, but it just doesn’t work.

Because when I write, I think about what you might look like reading it. I imagine your face, your eyes, how you might look at me, and tell me it’s okay to be ordinary, that I don’t have to be special either.

But if everything goes as planned with our date-night next Saturday, then… Well, it’s just really, really stupid and probably unhealthy for me to keep doing this. I’d never live it down if someone found these. So this will be my last letter to you, Gabriel.

I really wish there was something I could do to save you from me.

Elle

It wasn’t the last letter, clearly. The stack below it on the desk had to contain at least four or five more.

Gabriel stood up and strode to the window, pulling on the thin chain to make the horizontal blinds rotate open. He stared down at the parking lot below, needing a moment to breathe before continuing. So, even beforehand she knew that what she was doing was cruel and terrible.

Turning quickly on his heel, Gabriel stalked back to the desk, sat himself down, and picked up the third letter. Delaying the inevitable was just another kind of slow torture.

Part of Chapter 3:

What have I done?

Elle’s third letter, written in black pen on plain unlined copier paper, began without any introduction.

What have I done? She wrote, the script perfect and even, like that thought had consumed her long enough for her to write it out neatly before she could continue. The rest of the letter was barely legible—her hands must have been shaking terribly, or else she’d written it in a moving vehicle. Probably the former, Gabriel thought as he carefully deciphered the wobbly handwriting.

What have I done? Oh Gabriel, what have I done to you?

I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Gabriel, you can’t imagine how sorry I am—or perhaps you can. You tried to kill yourself, after all, when you murdered that man, and now I’ve destroyed you, and there’s a razor-blade on the desk by my elbow still wet with my blood. Some people say that cutting helps when you feel like this, but it didn’t help me at all.

Nothing can help me right now; not even writing this. The thing I do to keep myself sane now hinges on someone whose sanity I shattered. Irony is cruel…

Even killing myself—yes, I thought about that—wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t change anything, it wouldn’t undo anything. So here I sit, bandages wrapped around my bleeding arm, writing yet another letter I can never send, to a man to whom I really do owe these words. I’m so sorry.

And you didn’t kill me.

You told me to get out—to run away before you hurt me. Even in that state, even in the frenzy I pushed you into, you had a strong enough heart to try and save me.

The paper was badly water-damaged; from tears, Gabriel assumed. These obscured the writing so badly that for several paragraphs, only a few scattered words were readable.

Twenty-two years of my life, the letter continued after the worst of the damage, and I’ve never had anyone look at me like you did—in the clock shop like I was an angel, and in your apartment like I was just Elle. You made me feel like I could actually be that way; not Agent Bishop, but just myself.

The next sentence was crossed out, and Gabriel had to focus carefully to make out the words. Even my father never looks at me that way, she’d said, and then deleted as best she could.

But I can’t undo what I’ve done. I can’t unmake the monster I created. No matter how much I wish I’d been brave enough or good enough to say “no” at the time, I can’t change the past. I hate myself, and I think I always will. I hope I do. If I brush this feeling under the rug, if I forget how horrible this was, how horrible I was… then what will I become? It must have taken a demon to raise a demon.

She post-scripts more about how much of a coward she is: she doesn’t type it because she doesn’t want any chance that a record of her emotional slip-up will reach Bennett or her father. When Gabriel finds it, it has been torn in half and then carefully repaired with scotch tape.

Outline:

Chapter 3: Elle’s third “letter” is a long rambling apology, dated the same day she manipulated him into killing Trevor. That night she went home and was so full of self-loathing that she didn’t know what to do. She tried to let it out by cutting herself, but it didn’t help; she wasn’t changing anything, and even suicide wouldn’t change what she’d done to him. So she patched herself up and decided to write him a letter—a letter that she knew even then that she could never actually send—telling him how incredibly stupid and guilty and sorry, sorry, sorry she was. Twenty-two years of life, and she’d never had anyone look at her like he did that day in the clock shop; first with eyes full of tears, then with wonder, like she was an angel, and then that day when they’d had pie in his apartment, like she was just Elle. Not agent Bishop, not some made-up character, but Elle, just herself. Even her father didn’t ever look at her that way. (Perhaps that bit is crossed out?) But she can’t undo what she’s done, no matter how much she wishes she’d been brave enough to say no at the time. The letter is written in shaky handwriting on pieces of unlined blank printer paper. She post-scripts more about how much of a coward she is: she doesn’t type it because she doesn’t want any chance that a record of her emotional slip-up will reach Bennett or her father. When Gabriel finds it, it has been torn in half and then carefully repaired with scotch tape.

Chapter 4: Elle’s fourth letter is written—still by hand—a little more neatly on lined, three-ring-punched paper. It has also been torn and repaired. This one is dated several months after the first, and she talks about how she has Peter in custody, and how she’s read the new files on Sylar, and can’t help but wonder if he’s happier that way, with no inhibitions or conscience. But then she records a conversation she had with Dr. Suresh, and Mohinder tells her about how he found the words “Forgive me!” scrawled in blood on the wall of Gabriel’s apartment before the evidence was removed. Now Elle is conflicted. She wants to be a good daughter and a good agent, but she’s having problems with her father. Her father is concerned about the problem Sylar poses, and she’s afraid that she is being blamed for his actions, even though she was following orders when she created him. That’s why she writes another letter—not to Sylar, but to her friend Gabriel, the sweet single guy whose oddities made him easy to talk to, like he would understand her problems because she wasn’t any stranger than he was. But then she reflects on how she destroyed that part of him, and she can never forgive herself.

Chapter 5: Elle’s fifth letter is a rant, written so hard on the paper that it is torn in places and grooved in others. It is on paper torn out of a notebook, and the only tape repairs are where she tore it from writing too hard. She starts off by calling him every bad name she can think of in all capitals, then calms down enough to record that she tore up her two previous letters, and then thought better of it and fixed them, because writing these was helping her keep her head on straight. She goes on to say all the horrible punishments she’d like to inflict on him, and then says how scared she is. Scared because she created an even worse monster than she ever expected, scared because without her father to guide her she has no idea what she’s supposed to do, scared because there’s relief mixed in; she finally doesn’t have to try so hard to impress him. She’s so confused, and even though she hates him, writing a letter to the old him seemed like it might help.

Chapter 6: Elle’s sixth letter is written shakily again, and hasn’t been ripped, though several parts of the page were burned off and re-written on clean paper, which was then taped to the bottom so that the whole thing is readable. She admits how much pain she is in, and how lost she is, and how she is going to Bennet—the man who pressured her into turning Gabriel into the monster who killed her father—for help, because he was the man with the plan; the one with all the answers. She feels a dull, routine sort of hatred for him, but she is so confused and hurt and lost that she doesn’t really know how she feels about anyone anymore. She had even started to blame her dearly departed father for turning her into what she is, but she feels that that’s disrespecting him in death and… She feels that she shouldn’t need the man who murdered her father. She shouldn’t need anyone; she’s supposed to be strong. But she needs him. Writing to him is the only thing keeping her sane. And maybe that simple fact just goes to prove how truly crazy she really is.

Chapter 7: Elle’s seventh letter is written on burned and repaired paper just like her sixth, from sitting on a plane with Claire Bennet, of all people, on her way to some mystery company to get help. She describes again how the lightning is building up inside of her and making her sick, and how she barely dares to hope that this new company will be able to help her. She’s vacillating wildly between hating him and wanting to kill him and almost wishing he were here—the old Gabriel—so that she could talk to him, and have him look at her like that one more time, like she was just Elle and nothing else. The fact that he could feel remorse for what he had done—when he tried to hang himself—the fact that he could try to change, to go straight… The old Gabriel had sort of inspired her to be better. But it wasn’t enough, apparently. She still didn’t have the guts to take his side against the schemes of the Company.

Chapter 8: Elle’s eighth letter is typed, and in perfect condition. There’s nobody to fear reading it, really, although she does admit to deleting it from the system after she prints it. She says, “Hey Gabriel, what do you know, I’m writing another letter that I’ll never give you, and you’re asleep in the next room over. This is ironic.” She goes on to say how grateful she is for everything he did. Even though he claimed she did it on her own, she says she never would’ve thought it was okay to forgive herself if someone else hadn’t done it first. She says that the things he’s done only allow him to see the good in others better, because he knows what it’s like to be drowning in his own darkness. She admits concern over the Arthur Petrelli situation, but she chooses not to tell him the truth just yet. She says she intends to, but right now he’s so new to the idea that he has a choice about who he is and how he lives. She believes that he’s not destined to become his parents, but she’s not so sure he’ll believe it yet, so as twisted and evil as Arthur is, she lets Gabriel believe he is his father for now, because if he finds out what Sampson Gray is like, she’s afraid he’ll go right back to how he was. She concludes by saying that she believes he has to power to change, and that Arthur may be using him, but he’s also helping him whether he intends to or not. She plans to stick close and help him break away from his pseudo-family, and then tell him the truth when she thinks the time is right. Then she ends by saying, “look at me, acting all mature and knowing, like I think I’m a seer or something. You’re important to me, Gabriel, and I’ll do anything in my power to undo the wrong I did you, even if I have to lie to you for now.” –This would end the cannon drabbles, because Elle literally dies the next day, and Gabriel is confused when he finds a memory stick also in the envelope.

Chapter 9: This one’s a video letter from Gabriel himself; the Gabe of the future. In it, he details out how time would’ve progressed, and talks about his life with Elle—now Elle Gray—and his son, Noah. (The video shows him holding up a picture of their family.) He talks about how Elle’s power started maturing, and she’s a lot more than she seems. She told him that the future would end; that their lives together wouldn’t last, but he said he didn’t care. He wanted her here and now, even if it wouldn’t be forever, because he loved her. A few weeks ago, she started to seem distant and preoccupied, and she finally ‘fessed up that the end of the future was coming soon. She said that she would use the last of her power as she faded to make sure that their son had a chance to survive. He couldn’t time-travel, but he asked her to put this with her letter collection, so that the Gabriel—the Sylar—of the past would find it and know that even though this particular future was gone, the chance for a life without hands covered in blood was still there if he had what it took to follow it. –Gabriel finishes this video in confusion. There’s also a file on the stick, a typed letter from Elle-of-the-Future.

Chapter 10: Elle-of-the-Future writes and explains how she “caught” past-Elle before she made it to that beach, swapped clothes, put on the bloody bandage, and hid her away in another country before taking her place. Since the future—and her existence with it—was disappearing, she would’ve literally faded and vanished if he hadn’t killed her, and she’s still alive, in the past, and pregnant with their son. She says that her vision isn’t nearly as specific as that of the person who initially explained all this to her, and she doesn’t know where his head will be when he reads this, so for their child’s safety she doesn’t say where Elle is. She does say that she loves him, and still believes in him.

Chapter 11-etc…: Meanwhile, Elle—hidden in another country—still writes letters to Gabriel whenever she needs to clear her head. She writes about what happened between her and Elle-of-the-Future, and also writes one when she figures out that she’s pregnant—and it’s gotta be his. She writes about how—on that last, craziest day of her life—she was terrified, but sort of exhilarated, because she knew she’d have to rely on him more, to protect her.

She writes about how Claire’s media revelation has forced her to keep herself very carefully in check. She has the baby, writes about it, about how much issue she had with her powers maturing while she was pregnant, and how she was afraid to use them at all until the baby was born.

She writes at length about labor—she has Noah in a wrecked buss, or some such violent scene. Afterward she lets loose a stunning, frightening display of power that has been held in check for far too long. This reveals her true nature to (bad guys/media) and she has to go on the run. Rebel helps her—she leaves his true identity out just in case some random person ever reads it, to Gabriel’s great amusement when he finally reads it.

Elle ends up working with kids like Rebel and Molly—and a few OC’s—to help other Empowered in need, and once she’s set up in a house, the kids all live there, so she’s part partner, part mom. She writes to him about how she’s not just a mother to her own child, she’s got a group of grade-and-middle-schoolers sleeping on her couches.

Also she writes all her thoughts about Noah’s name. She wants an angel’s name, because with all the exposure it’s not safe to call him Gray. She thinks about Michael, but it’s too much like Micah, who lives with her, and she doesn’t want it to get confusing. (She doesn’t get a chance to name her son until a while after he is born, due to running for their lives.) In the end, she chooses Noah, because Noah was a survivor, and she thought that if there was any sort of fate attached to a name, she wanted one that came with protection. It didn’t occur to her until later—and another letter—that Bennet’s first name was Noah. Oops, oh well. Maybe Noah Grayson Bishop will be a better Noah than Noah Bennet.

Her letters conclude with some confessions about how much she still misses him, and how she’s so dependent on her memory of him, and wants him for real. Then she says how she can be totally honest here because no one will ever read these, and how even now she doesn’t have the guts to send them, even though she learned through Molly—whose power matured, making her basically omniscient—that he was reformed now and safe to have around baby Noah. She also admits that she’s frightened, because her power is maturing as well, and her body is changing into she doesn’t really know what.

At this point, Molly decides to send the entire package to Gabriel. She writes him a letter as well, explaining that she can’t like him—because of what he did to her parents—but she can’t hate him either, because of what she’s seen of his life and the way he has been changed. She reflects that she doesn’t really have the capacity for hatred anymore, because she knows everything about people, and can’t help but sympathize at least a little. She finishes by saying please don’t tell anyone that she sent the letters, because word might get back to Mohinder, and he wouldn’t understand.

Then Gabriel writes back. In the penultimate chapter, he says he needs to explain, to apologize, and that he’s been thinking about her and missing her too. He says he wants to meet.

In the epilogue, Gabriel enters a restaurant—or wherever—and sees the back of Elle’s head. He is overcome by nerves. She may not have been present as such, but his last memory of her is killing her. He is afraid to approach; his foot won’t move forward anymore. Then Elle lifts up Noah, and he looks Gabriel straight in the eye. It’s a baby’s face, but somehow it says, “Well dad, what are you waiting for? Get over here.” He smiles, and takes the next step towards the booth.

Down comes the curtain, have a nice day readers!

#Beth's New Year's Cleaning Queue #free to a good home #any and all parts available for general use with credit #heroes #heroes fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction ideas #writing #writing ideas #First two chapters written plus an outline

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