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h8ani · 6 months

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In which a silly thought of teasing Rindou for a month would be fun, but after a simple week he would surely snap and make you remember why you should never play games with him

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: fem!reader, dacryphilia, edging/orgasm control, rough sex, reader is alluded to squirting, mean!rindou, potential dubcon, choking, established relationship, masturbation (male)

Here is my submission for @wakashawty NNN collab! This is my first collab ever and was so so so fun to do!

Something about Rindou is, don’t test him. He isn’t one for jokes and there will be consequences even if it’s meant as a joke.

You thought it would be funny, a comical lil thing to do. If you were smart and had even an ounce of self-preservation, this thought wouldn’t have crossed your mind, the thought being discarded as you went on with your day. But yet here you were. Wanting to participate in No Nut November was supposed to be a little joke, you must’ve taken it too far because now you found yourself bent over the back of the couch, hands pinned behind your back, and being edged for what seems to have been hours. You never meant for it to go this far yet here you are.

Rindou’s thrusts are rough and unrelenting as he fucks up into you, his grip on both of your wrists keeping you in place draped over the couch. The sound of skin slapping skin is all you can hear, constantly ringing in your ears as your pussy continues to take the abuse. You felt the wetness drip down your thighs followed by the sickly squelching sound your pussy started to make, you wince once you felt Rindou’s cock still from within you. Embarrassment wasn’t the word you felt while you were powerless over the couch, you were mortified. Rindou pulls his cock out of you and you feel a quick ‘slap’ against your pussy. His fingers gather up your slick before pushing two of his digits in knuckle deep eliciting a choked out moan from you. Rindou kneels down so he’s eye level with your dripping core now, a proud smirk appearing on his face. “Oh? What’s this? Are you enjoying yourself?” He curls his fingers hitting your gspot perfectly, your legs tremble as he starts finger fucking you. “You’re not meant to enjoy this.” He tsk’s from behind you, fingers slamming against your pussy allowing the wetness to drip down your legs.

You try to twist your wrists free, the feeling of being defenseless was something you weren’t particularly fond of, you hated it really, preferring to hold him close to you and have your hands roam across his body— he knew that of course. He knew everything about you, from the way you loved having your hair played with when you had a long day and were sleepy down to what you loathe, but you weren’t meant to like this; this was a punishment for a stupid idea that was brought to fruition.

You hear him groan suddenly, thrusts slowing down and a sigh slips past your lips as you think it’s all over now.

Oh, you stupid, stupid girl.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He says, voice ever so present in your ears.

Rindou sees you tense up, your body stiffening once you hear him. He has to fight back another groan once you involuntarily clench around him.

Rindou doesn’t particularly care to be like this with you, never a fan of “punishing” you if that’s what this even is. He fucking hates being teased, but you knew this, so why did you even try?

“Babe!” Rindou hears you call, your footsteps heard climbing up the stairs. “Babe! Babe! Babe!” You rush into his room with a smile coming across your face. He raises an eyebrow, curious as to what you were so excited about.

“What?”

“Guess what we’re going to do together this month?” Your smile only gets bigger as you speak to him.

“Thanksgiving?”

“Wha? No! Well yes, but not the answer!” Tired of guessing already, he gives you a bored look and waits for you to continue, hands motioning you to finish what you wanted to tell him. “We’re gonna do No Nut November!”

“Absolutely not,” Rindou says quickly which only leads to the most devious smile you could muster.

“Too bad! If I’m playing then you have to play!” You exclaimed before slipping out of his bedroom before he could interject again. You were serious about playing the game too, he knew you were. What he didn’t know was just how dirty you would play it. He could deal with you purposefully grinding your ass into him at night, that was nothing new to him. What he didn’t expect was the tease of a century of you sending lewd photos of yourself while he was at work.

Once his phone vibrates against his desk he thinks nothing of it when he sees your name pop up with a notification of a text, you always send texts while he’s at work. Clicking in his password he clicks the notification only to slam his phone hard against his desk. The photos sent were of you, in a short mini skirt bent over with no panties on, he could see only from the waist down but he noticed your fingers gathering your own slick, slim fingers prodding your entrance like you were teasing yourself. Rindou picks his phone back up to see multiple photos sent that he couldn’t look away from, another text comes in from you ‘ Wish you were the one touching me:( ’ His face now the shade of a tomato and cock pressing hard against his slacks he stands up abruptly and marches down to the single stall men’s restroom. Fingers lock the door quickly and tug his pants down even faster until he finally fists his cock. A low guttural groan leaving him while he thinks of fucking you in that mini skirt, how he wouldn’t even let you touch yourself one bit and allow him and only him to touch you. He strokes himself faster while his thoughts run rampant, precum leaking past his tip until he spills the rest of his seed all over his hand. Rindou curses internally once he looks down to see the mess, head falling back against the stalls door. Once he got home, your little game was going to be over.

To his surprise, he had more restraint than that. In your eyes that was a green light to keep going, you continued, and continued, and continued to tease him. Until one day, you wore that dress, that one fucking dress. The one that you wore on your birthday that brought back so many memories to his mind, specifically memories of him stripping the dress off of you. The dress you were wearing drove him up the wall. You couldn’t plan to wear that and expect him to keep his composure like he did the past week, you just couldn’t.

He knew that you knew what that dress did to him, how the satin snug around your curves in the most perfect way that he went crazy for. So you coming downstairs acting as if you were going out, that didn’t fly with him.

“Y/n” the tone in his voice was enough to send shivers down your spine, you dared to glance over your shoulder to see him standing up. “Come here.” He says simply. You may like to tease and play games but you knew better than to argue, especially with the way Rindou was looking at you.

You made your way over to him, the only sound that could be heard was of your heels against the floor. Once you made it in front of him, his presence seemed more threatening than it was when you were a few feet away. Slowly looking up at him you’re met with his cool lavender eyes, staring so emotionless back down at you.

“I’m only going to say this once. Bend over, before I bend you over myself.”

You were tired yet you needed more, you needed to cum. Constantly being brought to the edge only to be pulled back was a pain you never knew before.

A gasp escapes from your lips once you feel his arm slip in front of you and press two cold silver ringed fingers to your clit. The pressure is enough to bring you back to a high so quickly and make your legs shake. “Please…” you whimper while pushing your plush hips back into his own. Instantly his fingers still against you, hot wet tears beginning to well up in your eyes. The frustration and growing pain in between your legs reaching a new all time high.

“Please what?” His head tilts to the side although you couldn’t see it.

“Wanna cum, ‘m sorry.” You try to grind down into his fingers to alleviate yourself, you expected this not to work in your favor, what you didn’t expect was for Rindou to let your wrists go that he held, the dead weight of your arms falling forward ached from how long they were pinned behind your back, you rubbed your wrists, moving them around in the process.

You’re pulled up by his strong and steady hands, spun around to face him, suddenly making eye contact with him brought a suffocating tension in the air you didn’t feel when your back was the only thing that faced him. The air around you is so weak and brittle, feeling as if it would snap at any moment if given the chance. Your eyes met his with an alertness as he stared through you, the stress from the situation you put yourself in was evident even to him. His stare was uncomfortable, it was meant to be, making you squirm just from a single look from him. Your breath felt constricted as you finally spoke. “Baby…” you say, eyes stinging and rimmed red. You blink and let the stray tears fall, hand quickly wiping them away as you utter, “Please.”

His face softens, arms dipping and hooking around your legs so you can sit on top of the couch, instinctively you wrap your legs around him. “Tell me, love,” he positions himself at your entrance while he speaks. “What month is it again?”

“November?” You say confused, legs spreading to allow him in further. “Why are you asking? What are you getting at?”

“What was that little thing you wanted to do called again? No Nut what?”

“November…” you glare at him, irritation running high now. You begin to close your legs but his hand that was holding onto your waist stops you, causing you to hold yourself up on the couch now. His grip on your thigh is rough as he pushes your legs open further.

“You wanted this, didn’t you? It’s the name of the game sweetheart.” He smiles, a deep chuckle erupting from him. “You’re not cumming, end of story.” With that he pushes in, burying himself to the hilt. A sob rips out of you once he starts fucking you at a brutal pace, the way he still has any energy to continue, his pace unwavering was unbeknownst to you because you were tired, drained even. He was so deep and it was sending your mind into a frenzy making you dizzy with each thrust, your own body wanting to give out and let Rin take you as he pleases.

Tears rolled down your cheeks with every slam of his hips against yours, Rindou just laughs, grabbing your cheeks with one hand simultaneously squishing them, you muster enough strength to glare with the tears blurring your vision. “Don’t you look cute crying, you mad at me now? ‘s that it?” He angles his hips in a way that has you crying his name out, thrusting upward he hits the spongey spot within you that sends your legs into a spasm. You feel your stomach tightening up for the nth time tonight. Your hands reach up to grip his shoulder as you feel yourself so, so close to your orgasm.

Please, please, please.

You were ruined. Silent sobs were let out as you hooked your ankles together, a desperate move for him to stay inside of you. Rindou watches the way you blink more tears away, the hopeless look you had as you stare up at him, silently begging him to allow you to cum. “You gonna quit it with these games?” He brings his hand to your cheek, thumb wiping away whatever tears that continue to fall. You nod almost before he can finish, a slight peek of hope appearing on your face. “You pro-”

“I promise! P-Please, please I wanna cum, I need to cum Rin.” You shakily blurt, pulling him in even closer, feeling him even deeper than before.

“You pull this shit on me again and I won’t be so nice next time.” He says before slipping a hand in between you two, you feel his fingers press against your clit, moving in quick circular motions.

It should embarrass you how quickly the knot in your stomach tightened up, you should be even more embarrassed with the sounds you were making, how pathetic you sounded, but you didn’t care, all you cared about was your impending orgasm and how it will be the best damn orgasm of your life.

Rindou thrusted up into you roughly, now pulling away his hand which elicited a desperate whine from you which he quickly shut down. He wraps his hand around your throat squeezing ever so slightly, your attention now centered on him. “You cum from my cock, understood?” Nodding as well as you could, his grip tightens around your throat, fingers pressing in just the right spot that makes your head tingle. His pace quickens, thrusts still rough and hitting you just right. You were breathless, eyes glazed over and head spinning from the lack of oxygen, but who needed to breathe when all you wanted to do was cum.

Unperceived to you, you clenched tighter the longer you were without any air in your lungs. Rindou groans while watching you with lidded eyes as he feels himself nearing his nth orgasm of the night, thrusts becoming rougher, more erratic. A strangled gasp leaves you as you suddenly feel the coil inside snap, your body overcome by the pleasure consuming you and the mess you were making. Your body shook against his and Rindou releases his grip on your throat. His hands now hold your waist as he finishes inside of you with a grunt, his hot cum pumping inside you, painting your insides white as he rides out his high.

Your mind was spinning, unsure if it was from the sudden oxygen rushing to your head or from the intense orgasm. You slump against him with an exhausted huff, Rindou runs his hand through your hair as you both calm down, the heavy breaths from you both are the only sound that can be heard.

“Learn anything today?” His voice suddenly heard, barely having any energy you lazily nod, head tilting up from against his chest.

“Yeah, November is for Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving alone.”

@bitchcraftinc @enchantedforest-network

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oncewhenalongtimeago · 4 months

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sorry but i think i lost your plot has to be peak literature because it's one of the only thing ive ever read from start to last update in under an hour

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 14

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,163

You get caught up in some hobbying.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, crafting, bead making

Your relationship with the older vikings, men and women alike, as their sometimes delivery girl, sometimes shepard -though that was much less of a harrowing job now that the dragons were cool, and you were afforded the privilege of spend a lot less time hiding and running- sometimes portable laundromat and shiphand, afforded you certain knowledge that other people sometimes weren’t privy to, though Berk was an open floor for gossip.

Like how the twins were always looking down because their helmets were too shallow to balance themselves on their heads, which had the consequence of making it seem as if they were always up to something. Which, coincidentally, they were- Their mother complained about them a lot in between mentions of her husband and fawning over Stoick.

You learned how to cook some from Mrs. Ingerman, and you’d taught her a few words from your time period, which was nice.

You’d had to do Snotlout's laundry and clean his room on more than one occasion, even had to pull it out of his basement room more than once, which you were thoroughly disgusted by. You’d learned a lot more about the guy from that experience than you’d ever wanted and had refused to take any of the Jorgensons’ laundry from then onward.

You’d even done things for Hiccup and for the Chief, mostly things he was unaccustomed to doing as he was too busy acting as the leader of the village and things Hiccup missed because he was too busy doing whatever he did out with the riders. You were sure Hiccup’d had no idea just the same as Snotlout.

There were a few things you were certain to never bring up, including but not limited to a hastily drawn but very detailed sketch of your face shoved in a notebook tossed under his bed, not particularly helpful in terms of putting to rest the whole crush thing, or the small pail of screws he was sure to have brought back from the forge without his father’s blessing.

You were in denial a little bit, yeah.

You should probably tell him. About the whole being in his room thing. But you wouldn’t. Definitely not.

It seemed, though, that despite this extra eye into the working world of Berk, you’d still ended up missing a few things.

Berk was… A community. You weren’t sure how you never realized that.

The Great Hall was filled with warm laughter, people patting each other on the back, men and women sharing stories about their kids and, often enough for you to take notice, Hiccup. It looked like raising him was a group effort.

Off in the corner were others at a table by shallow baskets which were shaped like oblong gold pans filled with fine powder and shells, men and women sitting along the side sorting dragon scales and grinding them down with flat stones and clearly chiseled pestels.

Dragons squealed and bobbed around your periphery, tossing and picking up what must’ve been colorful, neutral stones.

Large men and women and children hunched over the tables all over the hall, rearranged so that they were all closer to each other, parallel as they whittled away at things you couldn’t completely see, tables lined with leaves and the occasional plate.

It was well lit.

People filled the halls between tables with joyful conversation, playfully batted at each other and sat back. The whole space was bustling and also relaxing, somehow.

In the background was Ack arguing with some blonde woman, but even that was nice. You could tell he didn’t mean it and neither did she, shooting back just barely inaudible jabs with each other.

You were mindful of the basket in your arms full up with his laundry, just recently cleaned and aired out.

You had stopped in your tracks at the sight, standing just before a short table placed perpendicular to the rest as if the lady sitting there was the guard to some booth or other.

You looked down finally, noticing how she looked at you nearly eye level with a raised brow. She had plenty of wrinkles on her forehead, which told a lot about a life made by concern and stoicism. She also wore a large, very off white apron over a grayish vaguely beige long sleeve short and a long brown skirt, which you only just barely caught sight of as she lifted it up to wipe down something in her hand.

She had a shallow basket in front of her filled with what looked like beads and various strings, needles and small carving knives with wood shavings laid on the cloth-covered table around her.

“Hi,” You said, breaking the wall between the two of you.

“...Hello, dear,” She responded, after a while, settling down her skirt and placing a colorful bead back into her basket. He picked up a needle instead, which you saw was already attached to a long string with beads all down the length.

You wondered where they’d gotten the dye for it. Could dye even be used on glass? Was it glass?

Instead of asking those questions, you shuffled your feet.

You glanced at a white sleeve flopped over the side of the basket, which you held by a bar on the other side and pressed into your hip, “What’s going on?”

“Crafting is going on,” She said, plainly.

You nodded, “I like it.”

It wasn’t an uncommon sight to see Vikings wandering around Berk, trying their hand at leatherworking and carving and other things. Now that they had the time, being assaulted a lot less by Dragons, the Berkians indulged their more artistic inclinations, exercising muscles for skills they’d never been able to before.

“I mean, this is great. What started it?” You asked.

You wanted to join in. It might be nice.

“Oh, you haven’t seen? The pride of Berk, walking around with his little bead like a bird,” She chortled fondly, “Did you see it? I wonder who gave it to him? Lucky girl. He has, dare I say it, started a trend.”

A bird? You quirked your lips up at what was most certainly an exaggeration. You hadn’t seen anything like that. You failed to mention that you’re the one who made it.

You wondered if Hiccup knew about any of this at all. You didn’t.

“How do you know it was a girl?”

You turned. The spoken voice belonged to one of the women you’d see before in the Hall. She came over, done fussing with Ack in the background.

She was also blonde, a brighter, more yellow shade with a few less gray hairs. And she was large, also, with broad shoulders and a strong presence. Her arms were the largest between them.

She wore tight trousers and a large though not long tunic. Her boots were plain leather and looked to be of the pirate variety.

You pondered the idea that they might be related, or at least good friends.

“Look at him!” The first lady put down her needle, resting it in her shallow basket again, a glass bead falling down the string as she did, gesturing with her hand, though there was no Hiccup in sight, “He’s so happy! So proud! The small thing. He’s got too much energy for his little bones to handle.”

You thought he might be offended if he heard her say that.

“Oh, don’t be delusional,” The one with big arms huffed, “And don’t let him hear you say that.”

“But I’m right!”

“You’re wrong! He’s no myth, sweetheart. You can’t go around treating him like one of your little stories,” She shook her head, crossing her arms.

“The Ragnar is real!” She insisted, staring down the Ack lady, meeting her eyes until the other woman rolled her own. You could tell it was a disagreement as old as time itself, but like with the other woman’s squabble with Ack, there was no malice in it, “Beowulf, too.”

They were just putting on a show.

You felt your lips stretch wider. It felt good to be a part of, even as a witness.

“Well, anyways, I’ve been thinking of making it a regular thing. You know, putting it on a schedule. Craft nights…”

You nodded excitedly, “It’s very modern.”

“Do you think so?” She asked, pleased.

“You don’t think we’ll have better things to be doing?”

“Our ancestors used to do it, can’t see why we can’t.”

“Really?” You asked.

“Oh, yes. Read a passage about it once, saw a note or something like in one of the dragon books. Glass beadmaking,” She looked up wistfully, pausing briefly in her rhythmic sewing, “I always wanted to try it… But we had no forge, no beads, no time, then, either. I was just a little girl. But now…!”

She picked something small but shiny out of the basket in her lap, ooh-ing to herself.

You were on the outside, kind of, though not on purpose. Everyone was welcoming enough, though they were much too busy fighting with the dragons to notice much or throw a party or anything. You were never excluded but you always had better things to do, too, so, well.

But this was here, and it seemed convenient.

“Dear, come sit down,” She squealed slyly, voice both quick and dragging, face gleeful, which seemed out of place on her wide, bult frame and stern face.

“Okay,” You said, beaming.

You stuck mostly to the woodworking bead types.

The image of glass beads shattering midair was frightening, though you were sure that none of the dragons around here could reach those speeds. Flying that fast might be dangerous for people too.

Most of your beads were probably going back to Hiccup anyways.

Of course, you had your own handful of small colorful semi-porcelain.

You tried a bunch of colors of all different types, and ended up with a handful of each. It was cool, to the super-so degree, and it was free. It seemed good will did a lot, and community bonding exercises were meant to be just that and nothing else. There was a line of Vikings, adults and children alike, ready to do their own part and bring things in anyhow.

Many Vikings used ground up dragonhide to dye and waterproof beads and to mix in with melted glass in order to give it a pretty stain.

It was interesting, especially now that many Vikings were using Dragons in place of a kiln, and how they’d set up small buildings with bricks and some coal and used those too.

It was disastrous, at some moments. There were many burns, mostly small, that people went up to Gothi for, saying their goodbyes in bummed tones.

Gothi must have had enough of it because she came down eventually to manage the glassmakers and smack the unfortunate.

It was… nice.

The afternoon light was surprisingly nice on your face. It felt a lot nicer and your chest felt lighter, the world awash with things bright and endearing.

You looked forward with a winning smile at Hiccup.

“You liked the one I gave you, right?” You held out a handful of blue glass and wood beads to Hiccup, “They’re doing craft days in the Hall. I made some.”

You had a bunch of others in pouches around your belt.

You didn’t have anywhere to put them besides. You had no dragon to ride, so in time you might favor the glass ones. You had trouble with a few of them. The dragonhide did a great deal to make the glass more sticky when it heated up.

“You’re going to see a lot more people around with beads on.”

There were not enough leaves and pouches for all your sorted beads so they were sort of mixed, but you got a hold of a good few before it was time to clean up and you fled before anyone could notice. The hall would still be active for a while.

“You started a trend, I think,” You said, matter-of-factly.

It was impressive. Trends usually fell to the Chief, who recently had been trying to approach you though he always got carried away by tasks before he could.

Hiccup had a sort of goofy smile on his face which consisted of a slightly upturned lip and the framing of his two largest front teeth which dropped as, as it looked like, he snapped back into himself, “What?”

“Yeah,” You said after you finished unloading the rest of his pouches into his arms and turned to walk away.

You looked around as you fled, making sure no one was watching.

He looked down like he wasn’t sure what to do with all of them, and also a little bit put off.

You wondered if you overdid it.

A small weight shifted by your ankle as you walked, the coins you’d slipped into a side pocket in your boot. You were going to ask around for some seeds.

#thank you #hope you enjoy #httyd #how to train your dragon #hiccup x reader #httyd x reader #fem reader #hiccup horrendous haddock III #hiccup haddock #x reader

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year

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Imagine Tangerine’s wife getting abducted by one of the twin’s enemies and the Twins are LIVID (rightfully so), gather their supplies, their rain coats, and storm the place she’s being held… No one’s left standing within a couple minutes but a Tan, Lem, and a very traumatized Y/n who now doesn’t want to ever leave her husband’s side

hii lovely, sorry it’s taken so long. love this idea- super soft and cute. hope you like it 💌

not letting go (tangerine x fem reader)

wc || 967

warnings || mentions of abduction and weapons

masterlist + rules

taglist

You knew someday that being married to Tangerine would eventually bite you in the arse, but you never actually expected it to happen. You were aware of the consequences of being the wife of a man who has lots of enemies, but you didn’t care, as he is the man you decided to love.

But right now you were cold, alone and terrified. You were abducted presumably by someone with a vendetta towards the twins. You were the only thing that could truly hurt them, obviously meaning that their enemies will use that to their advantage. For several hours you had been tied to a chair in the middle of a dark, dingy room, wrists aching from the friction of the rope.

You knew the twins would save you, you just told yourself to be patient but as more time passed the more antsy and scared you became. They’ll be here soon, they have to be.

The gang that took you had kept rigorous tracks on you, they knew exactly what you’d be doing and where- which was the perfect time for them to strike. They had taken you from your car when you were out, so when you didn’t come home when you said you would, the twins were extremely worried. When you didn’t answer the twenty calls, they already knew what had happened. They have their ways, they will find you.

A guy lurks from behind the metal pillar holding a large knife, playing with it as if to taunt you. Slowly pacing forward as he brushed the metal point along his hands, purposely trying to intimidate you. Your mind raced as you tried to remember all the tips the twins had taught you, in case you ever found yourself in a situation like this, but unfortunately, your mind was completely blank. No adrenaline to push the fight or flight, it was just pure fear.

The man edged forwards, running the point of the knife along your jaw, pushing your chin up to look at his disgusting face. The gang were using you as bait, they weren’t actually going to harm you, well not until the twins got to you anyway.

His repulsive fingers replace the knife under your chin, holding it up as he looked into your teary eyes. “If they’re not here soon… you’re a goner.” Slapping the side of your cheek as he walked away and into the back.

You felt his dirty hand leave a warm imprint on your face and you knew that these torture tactics were about to get a lot worse. The guys were really rough on your arms when they transported you, leaving purple bruises on your upper arms and grazes over your legs.

You could feel a drip of blood run down the side of your face, you were guessing that it was when they hit your head earlier on.

Gunshots were fired outside at an alarmingly fast pace, you weren’t sure whether it was good or bad. More gunshots fire from the mezzanine level above you, crouching your head between your knees as you tried to comfort yourself.

After two minutes the bullets stopped, the silence was actually scarier than the gunfight.

Hearing the familiar voice of your husband as he shouted around the small building trying to find you.

“I’m here.” You softly replied too shaky to accentuate your voice.

He must’ve had super hearing with all the adrenaline running through him, as he located you instantly. Footsteps rushing around, panicking as he tried to make his way to you.

Immediately dropping to his knees in between your legs, his eyes wide and worried as he looked over your face. Delicately cupping your cheek as his thumb swiped across, eyebrows curling in the middle as he noticed your wet and red under eyes.

He licks his thumb before softly swiping it over the dried blood on your temple. “I’m so, so sorry.” He softly gushes as he unties the rope around you. “I’m so sorry.” He says under his breath as if he’s trying to calm himself.

The second he sets you free, you wrap your arms around him, too shaken up to let him go just yet. He understood immediately, so he pulls you in tighter, his hands clasping at your back as he hushed you.

You were hugging his bloody poncho, but you didn’t care, burying your face further into the crook of his neck as you softly cried.

“I’m so so so sorry, love.” His hand brushing over your hair. “Let’s go get Lem.” He quietly offers as he kisses the crown of your head.

“Okay.” You meekly respond, wiping your eyes on the clean parts of his shoulder.

His arms loosen to let you go, but you vigorously shake your head ‘no’. “Please don’t let go…”

“I won’t, I won’t- don’t worry.” Tangerine reassures, holding you tighter into him.

Lemon runs into the room, clearly glad to see you. “Oh my god, thank fuck.” He blurts as if he can now finally breathe. “We’re so sorry.” Slowly making his way over to you, kneeling beside you on the chair. Gently circling the smalls of your back as Tangerine took care of the top half.

The three of you sat like that for a couple of minutes, until your husband told you it isn’t safe and you need to get going. Tangerine carried you to the car, keeping you close to his chest, not once letting you go. He didn’t even separate to get in the car, holding you on his lap as Lemon sped away. Tan strokes his fingers in your hair, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He quietly says into your temple, kissing it one last time as he held you close to him. Never wanting to leave each other's sides.

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine and lemon #bullet train #tangerine fanfiction

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alexiethymia · 2 months

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hitsuhina and choice

I mean I love all iterations of hitsuhina and any version of them and their backstory, but the fact that Hitsugaya and Hinamori didn’t actually live together gets me y’know? (despite that many people thought the same, like me too and I always loved reading fics with that premise).

Because the fact that they didn’t actually live together (in fact they weren’t even neighbors, Kubo just says they lived in the same neighborhood) just hammers down Hitsugaya's strong regard for her. Because sure you could always argue that Hitsugaya was protective over her because they lived together (I mean I’m pretty sure many people characterized their relationship as familial because of that), and yeah I could totally get behind that, but knowing that they didn’t actually live together shows that of all the kids in their neighborhood, it was Hinamori who he grew his bond with to the point that he was ready to murder for her. It’s such an intense emotional tie to a childhood friend (*cough like Gin with Rangiku*) that I always wondered what could have led to it.

And I think a lot of it has to do with choice. Like Hinamori was popular. Hinamori was well-liked. Hinamori already had friends in their neighborhood. Hinamori didn’t have to be friends with the ‘cold’ kid that everyone - children and adults alike - were wary of. But she still did. She still laughed and smiled at him, hung out with him and ate watermelons with him, kept on visiting him even when her other friends were scared of him. And from Hitsugaya’s pov, she didn’t have to. She wasn’t family like his Granny. And it wasn’t as if he was alone either precisely because he had his Granny. In those early days he must’ve been confused why this sunny and warm girl would choose him. And this is way before he eventually becomes a powerful and well-liked captain, way before he was a prodigy, way before he was discovered to have strong reiatsu. He must have kept wondering why this girl kept on choosing him when he felt like he had nothing to offer her back and when it might have been detrimental to her to keep on hanging out with him because of the chance that she could have been isolated as well, like what was in it for her?

And this goes into the core of why I love Hinamori so much, of this little thing being an integral part of her character where we see snippets of it in the manga (like with Byakuya, Zaraki and to an extent Gin) that she never really judges people by their looks, that she’s open and accepting. Even when people were generally creeped out by Gin, she was only on her guard when Hitsugaya warned her about him. Sure it could be seen to be a weakness, but for something I’m sure she thought nothing of, I’m sure it meant a whole lot to Hitsugaya, enough that he considered her laughter like a spring breeze. Like honestly, I could believe how that ended in Hitsugaya becoming so intense about her and becoming incoherent with rage with what Aizen did.

Because that something that she ended up beating herself up about in the aftermath of Aizen - her trusting and accepting nature which I’m sure she thought was a weakness that she had to change, that nature of hers which was trampled upon and taken advantage of by Aizen and Gin - it was that very same nature which in Hitsugaya’s view probably saved him from his loneliness. He couldn’t stomach how that very same thing which made Momo who she was, the very same nature of hers which saved him, was so carelessly used to hurt her. Like, how dare they? Even worse, how dare they make Momo doubt herself? It was no wonder then that he couldn’t even hope to control or bottle up his unstable emotions threatening to overflow until they eventually did, with disastrous consequences.

In the same way Momo chose him so long ago, he continues and always chooses her, time and time again. Even when her attention was drawn away, even when her bright smile was no longer solely his, he never begrudged her. Time and again, he continued to prove that he’d always choose her - her safety, her well-being, her happiness - always choosing to protect her, even sometimes above and beyond Soul Society.

It’s all about the choice.

#hitsuhina #bleach #hinamori momo #hitsugaya toshiro #like I have not rambled about them in so long #seriously now that we know they didn’t live together #it once again makes me insanely curious to know how they first met #cause we had rangiku and gin’s first meeting #and even for almost all of the important relationships in the series #so how did hinamori and hitsugaya meet for example??#ramblings about hitsuhina

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daddyy333 · 1 year

Text

It’s not okay | Joseph Quinn x y/n

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

word count: 0.9k

warnings: implies abusive experiences in the past, ?

summary: you flinch during an argument and it worries the shit out of Joseph

“I am not comfortable with you hanging out with her so much, you’re always with her! You skipped date night two weeks in a row for her!” You said, referring to Grace. You’d been missing Joe so badly for months, you thought since filming ended you’d get your boyfriend back but he was still always ou of the house, hanging out with the other cast members, especially Grace.

You didn’t dislike Grace. She was a nice girl, and she was gorgeous and you’d seen her acting which was phenomenal. You just hated that she was getting all your boyfriend's attention. At this rate, he’ll probably forget about your anniversary coming up in 3 weeks.

“You’re being a little overdramatic, babe! We’re just friends, why can’t you understand that?!” He yelled back. You groaned, turning around and consequently being right in his face.

“I get that you’re just friends but you spend all your time with her now! I want my boyfriend back, Joe, you’ve been so busy these last 2 years. I fucking miss you!” You said. Joe went to brush your hair out of your face and then cup your cheek but you gasped and flinched away from his touch.

You didn’t mean to, you didn’t even realize you were so anxious but all the yelling back and forth must’ve gotten you all worked up. His eyes widened and he looked so scared.

“Wha- w-why did you flinch?” He said and you rolled your eyes. You sighed and said “I don’t know, Joe, it was just a reaction, okay? I didn’t mean to” “A-Am I- do I hurt you? D-Do I scare you?” He asked, looking down at his hands.

You took a deep breath and said “no, Joseph. Whatever, just keep hanging out with Grace and I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Dinners done just let it cool down for a few minutes”

You groaned and went to the bedroom, not exactly slamming the door but certainly using to express your anger towards him. You took a shower and just went to bed, you didn’t want to see him right now and since everything was Grace Grace Grace that wouldn’t be a problem for him.

Except, it was. He was frozen. 10 minutes he stood there, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. Why did you flinch? Did you think he was going to hit you? Does he hit you? No, he doesn’t remember it. Maybe he blacks out when he does.

It scared the hell out of him. Why would you feel the need to flinch when he reached to touch your face? He doesn’t remember hitting you, but you flinched.

He tried to eat dinner but ended up putting most of it away for leftovers anyways. He almost didn’t want to see you the next morning, he felt like some kind of monster.

That only made you more upset. 3 days passed before you had a proper moment together and you weren’t gonna give it up. “God damn it, stop avoiding me! Why can’t you just listen to me?” You said as he left the kitchen just as you came in for the 10th time since your fight.

He sighed softly and said “I’m not avoiding you” “you won’t even stay in the same room with me! What, did you sleep with her or something?” You asked and scoffed. He bit his lip, looking down nervously. He took a deep breath and said “y-…you flinched. The other day, when I went to brush your hair out of your face while we were arguing. I was actually going to cup your cheeks and apologize but I just…y-you flinched,”

“Joseph, I’m fine. It was just heat of the moment, okay?” You said and rolled your eyes. You grabbed a bottle of wine and poured yourself a glass, sipping the entire thing down and pouring yourself another.

“No, it’s not fine. No other woman I’ve been with has ever flinched during an argument. D-…do I hit you and like…not remember it? D-Do I scare you?” He asked and you sighed. You turned to him and said “growing up…disobeying or arguing with my father usually ended up far worse than some yelling and avoiding each other for a few days. If I could help it, Joe, I wouldn’t flinch. But I can’t. No matter how much I trust you, I’ll never not flinch. It’s not you, Joseph, I swear”

“Oh god…oh, sweetheart…” he said and you took a deep, shaky breath. You turned around and took another sip of wine, trying not to think about it too much. He hugged you from behind and said “I- god, I’m so sorry…I didn’t know, I shouldn’t have pressured you to tell me, god I’m so self-centered”

“N-No, Joe. You have every right t-to be concerned, I just…it feels stupid. A-And I hate that it still affects me. You don’t deserve to worry if I scare you, you’re an incredible boyfriend, really” you said and he sighed. He kissed your head and said “not as of late” “I just need to learn to share you, that’s all. I’m sorry” you said and he took a deep breath.

He caressed your waist and said “I’m sorry too. For everything, really. I wish you hadn’t gone through that, love” “it’s fine…I’m fine” you said and he shook his head. He kissed your cheek and said “it’s not okay, my love. But now that I know, I will be more careful in the future. N-Not that I want us to argue I just mean that-”

“I know, Joey. Thank you…for understanding” you said. He chuckled nervously and said “of course, sweetheart. I love you” “I love you too” you said and smiled.

Taglist: @kellysimagines @readsalot73 @hellfire1986baby

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Joseph Quinn

Jamie Bower

Steve Harrington

Robin Buckley

Maya Hawke

Lo’ak

Neteyam

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)

#stranger things #joseph quinn #joe quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn oneshot #joseph quinn x y/n

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feralcorpses · 3 months

Text

Féachann Siad Au - Part 1

Aus Masterpost. - Explains the au.

Next Part - Pt.2.

Tw: Eyes, and a slight amount of blood.

Xisuma began to walk slowly, watching everything he could. Still nothing but a useless void, he felt like he had been walking forever with nothing but a singular feather he had found on his way, the feather seemed to be leading him it was always pointing the same direction, so he followed not like he could do much else. The feather was also oddly comforting it felt familiar oddly enough.

They started to get annoyed why is everything empty, he heard a movement to the east he swiftly turned, pulling his axe out attempting to put it to the neck of this creature. He soon realized this thing was too tall at least he could get his axe to its gut thats better than nothing.

“Tell me who you are now, I wont hesitate to slit your gut” he said swiftly but firmly, the creature responded “Why do that, I mean you would just get stuck in here longer.” The voice was familiar but still not too be trusted, he then said “what? Just explain too me what the hell this is and who you are.” “Its quite simple its just another void, and me~? People have many names for me, usually they refer to me as the one who watches~.” Xisuma moved his axe closer to the creatures gut “Then get me the hell out of here you scum of a watcher.” Xisuma then started moving back slowly, incase the watcher was going to try anything.

The watcher than said “how about a deal~ you give me a certain amount of your blood and i’ll bring you back to your sever, no problems or consequences.~”

Xisuma noticed that something must’ve been logged in its back because of the blood behind the watcher, he would need to remember that incase he needed to get away. He wanted to negotiate something else but it truly wasn’t worth it, he also didn’t state how much blood which worried Xisuma quite a lot.

The watcher adjusted it’s standing position, leaning one arm on seemly nothing and offering the other out, it than said-

“So~ deal or no deal~?”

(click for better quality)

(sorry for all the remakes of the post I kept fucking it up)

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czenzo · 1 year

Text

Consequences

[ao3]

summary: After Lucy wakes up one morning to find a dark red lovebite blooming on her neck, she frantically looks for a way to cover it up – and eventually drags Lockwood into helping, too. After all, he is the one who left it there.

words: 2335 rating: T

note: I fell SO in love with the netflix show then got so overwhelmed with lockwood content that writers block snuck up on me, but I have defeated it at last!! huzzah enjoy these kids being stupid and foolish and deeply in love

Lucy stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Her eye bags were slightly less pronounced than usual, which was a nice change. Only a few spots dotted the skin of her face – a small one on her chin, one on the side of her nose – but they were fairly calm and bound to fade soon. If she squinted and covered one eye they almost passed as freckles.

Her lips were alarmingly chapped, thanks to the hours upon hours spent in freezing cold haunted locations with little to no motivation to bother moisturising them; Holly had picked up a habit of commenting on it, and every time, Lucy responded by peeling off a bit of the flaking skin. It was always effective in cutting the conversation short.

Her jawline was soft as usual, thanks to the round face and thicker-set build inherited from her mother, but she’d grown to not mind it so much. After all, her appearance was never a hindrance to her work, so it had never mattered.

Aside from the blooming dark red bruise on her neck.

That was sure to stir up some commotion.

“Talk about unprofessional,” was the first thing out of the skull’s mouth when she flipped its lever that morning. Still half-asleep and brain somewhat foggy, she hadn’t registered his words and simply opted to ignore them as she padded over to the bathroom. She’d been at 35 Portland Row for so long that her morning routine was all muscle memory: haul herself out of bed, drag her body a few feet across the room before stepping to the right to avoid that oddly squeaky floorboard, then to the left to miss that nail haphazardly sticking out, then enter her bathroom, shiver as her feet hit the cold tiled floor, and grimace as her eyes fall onto the bright red hickey on her reflection’s neck.

Hold on.

Shit.

A strange, strangled noise escaped the back of her throat. The skull must have heard it, because he let out a cackle and called out, “Don’t tell me you’ve only just realised. He must’ve been sucking on your neck like his life depended on it!”

“Oh, shit,” she hissed, trying to tune out the skull’s taunting. She lasted less than a minute before stomping back out of the bathroom and flicking the skull jar’s lever with more ferocity than she ever had, before returning to the mirror to stare slack-jawed at her neck some more.

Her makeup collection started and stopped with mascara, and she hadn’t the foggiest of where to even start finding a product to cover the hickey – no, lovebite – no, god, how she hated all of its names. If only it was a bit lower, she could’ve hidden it with a thick turtleneck, but she knew just from looking at it that it still would have peered out over the top.

She desperately rummaged through the back of her wardrobe anyway, and heaved a sigh of relief upon finding something that would cover the offensive red splotch for the short term.

By the time she finally emerged from her room and followed the smell of toast into the kitchen, most of Lockwood & Co. were already there, either busying themselves making breakfast or, in George’s case, already in the middle of scoffing it.

“Morning,” Lucy said as she entered, making a beeline for the kettle to make herself a hard-earned cuppa. Holly paused from slicing a healthy-looking thing (it might’ve been an avocado, but Lucy didn’t care enough to look closely at it) and stared at her.

“Are you a bit chilly, Luce?” George said, lowering the last slice of half-eaten toast back to his plate.

“Hm?” Lucy replied, scooping up some sugar.

“I mean – I’m glad you liked my Christmas present, but you’re aware it’s July, yeah?”

Lucy paused, hand halfway to the kettle’s handle. “We live in England.”

“Climate change renders that a poor defence, really. I swear every other week’s a heatwave.”

“What’s this about heatwaves?” Lockwood said as he entered, newspaper in one hand and a mug in the other.

“Lucy’s wearing a scarf in the middle of summer,” Holly oh-so-politely explained.

Lockwood’s gaze darted to the scarf in question.

Then to Lucy’s eyes. And very, very briefly – for such a small fraction of a second Lucy almost wondered if she’d imagined it – down to her lips.

Then back down to the scarf.

“An… interesting fashion choice,” he said slowly.

“Indeed,” Lucy replied matter-of-factly, finishing making her tea and taking a long, scalding sip.

The room was silent for a long, excruciating moment, until reality suddenly restarted and Holly resumed chopping, George resumed chomping, and Lockwood snapped himself out of his trance to turn on his heel and head towards his favourite armchair to catch up on the news.

Slowly but surely, the rest of them followed, migrating into the living room and making themselves at home on the sofas in wait of an informal morning briefing. Holly was fully dressed and ready to go for the day, but the rest of them still lounged in their pyjamas while lazily sipping their tea, not quite yet ready to begin their working day.

“Okay,” Lockwood said after skimming through the newspaper. “Our priority tonight is to close off that case with Mr McShane… Holly, if you could give him a ring and look into why on earth he decided to not show up and give us the keys so we could get to work last night, that would be great – I can trust you to make it sound polite and professional. Maybe we should consider some kind of no-show fee… it could help us recover faster from that recent bulk order from Sunrise. Or is that too harsh? I don’t know. Something to think about later.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy spotted Holly jotting it down on a notebook she’d seemingly produced out of thin air. Lockwood continued his briefing; a client was due later that afternoon, George was to get a head start on the background research, and Lucy was to join him to visit a different client at their home in a couple of hours.

“We’re a bit busier than usual,” George mused from his deep, sunken-in spot on the couch.

“That McShane fellow knocked us off our schedule. We have a bit of catching up to do, but it’s doable.”

“I suppose we’d better get started then,” Holly said, closing her notebook. Lockwood solemnly nodded. Still, it was another fifteen minutes until they were all able to haul themselves back onto their feet, and another twenty for everyone to get dressed and make themselves look presentable.

Lucy spent most of that time checking her mirror. Each time she moved to look into it, part of her hoped and prayed the mark would have somehow magically begun to fade, though deep down she knew she was only setting herself up for disappointment.

The scarf was itchy and garish; realistically, she knew it couldn’t stay, but her limited wardrobe left her with – well, not a single other option.

She’d pulled on a jumper, skirt, and tights by the time there came a soft knocking at her door. In the seconds that followed came an intense internal debate as to whether the scarf was to stay on, or if she could get away with only facing whoever it was at a specific angle.

A voice softly called from the other side. “Luce?”

Lockwood.

The scarf was promptly thrown across the room. Lucy opened the door, and before she could even give him a scalding look, the sheepish grimace on his face said he knew what was going on already. Slowly, quietly, he shuffled inside, and took his time in closing the door behind him.

“So…” he said, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. “No more scarf?”

“I don’t know what to do, Lockwood. You did this, you should be paying the consequences – not me!”

He followed the sharp point of her finger, and the second his eyes fell on the deep red blotch on her neck he let out a whistle, long and slow. “It’s starting to go purple.”

“Thank you for that observation.”

“Perhaps Holly has–”

“I’m not letting Holly catch wind of this,” Lucy sighed. “Besides, our skin tones don’t match in the slightest. Her makeup would make it more obvious.”

“Oh– er, yeah. That’s true. What about–”

“Don’t even think about suggesting asking George. He’d never let us forget about this.”

Lockwood’s gaze drifted across the room and onto where the scarf had fallen, draped half on the bed, half on the floor. “Scarf it is, then.”

Lucy looked at the scarf witheringly. Before she could turn back around to face Lockwood, she felt a pair of hands settle gently at her waist.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her ear. “I got carried away, I didn’t think it through. It won’t happen again.”

Lucy sighed and replied with as much nonchalance as she could muster, “I never said I wanted that.”

“Hm?”

“It can happen again,” she said slowly, “as long as I have a reasonable way of covering the aftermath.”

“Oh,” Lockwood said. And then, a few moments later, “Oh.”

He backed away, his hands left her waist, and before Lucy could register the loss of his warm breath against the shell of her ear, he’d gone, leaving the door to swing shut behind him.

Lucy frowned. She turned to the skull jar, wondering why he hadn’t been incessantly ridiculing her throughout the whole fiasco, until she remembered she’d flicked its lever in a fit of rage earlier that morning. It was probably for the best that it stayed that way for the time being.

“Okay,” Lockwood said as he backed into the room, turning to reveal his arms full of medical supplies – plasters of varying shades, bandages, cleaning alcohol, the same supplies he’d uncovered after she’d slashed her wrist at Kensal Green – which he unceremoniously dumped onto her unmade bed. “We’ll just make it look like a minor injury. We were practising rapier techniques and I accidentally nicked your neck with my blade. That sounds reasonable, right?”

She sat on the edge of her bed, watching him rummage through the small pile. “I’d never let you nick my neck.”

“Well, you certainly let me do something else to it.”

For that, he received a swift whack to the back of his head. “Shut up and sort out my rapier wound.”

Lockwood tucked her hair behind her ear, gave one last dramatic wince at the mark on her neck, then fell quiet with concentration as he carefully placed a plaster over it. He took far longer than was necessary, but Lucy found she couldn’t complain. It tickled as he smoothed out the adhesive with his fingertips, and once he was satisfied with his work, his hands glided up to tenderly cup the sides of her face.

“Thank you,” Lucy murmured, feeling a smile creep onto her lips.

“Told you. I’m a fully qualified doctor. No wound is too much for me to handle.”

“Codswallop,” she scoffed. “This one scared you.”

He smirked, amused. “Only very briefly, before my fantastic intellect kicked in.”

“Oh, is that what you’re calling it?”

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Maybe,” Lucy said, lips no more than an inch away from his. The air between them was warm and smelt faintly of Lockwood’s cologne. “Maybe I do.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Shut up,” she said breathlessly, closing the gap between them. The pile of plasters and bandages were left forgotten beside them as they became wrapped up in one another, hands roaming and mouths gasping for air between kisses. Lucy was sure they could have stayed there for hours if it weren’t for George shouting from downstairs.

“Lockwood!” his muffled voice called.

Lockwood took a moment to catch his breath. His forehead still pressed against Lucy’s as he called back, “What?”

“Can you come here? I need to check something with you before I head to the archives!”

“Is it urgent?”

“Er–” George paused. “It pertains to ghosts, which can be pretty fucking lethal, so, yes!”

“Be there in a tick,” Lockwood replied. It took considerable effort to untangle himself from Lucy and, once he’d hauled himself off the bed and onto his feet, to then smooth out the creases that now tarnished his outfit.

George shouted up to them one last time, “Bring Lucy, too!”

***

It hadn’t been that urgent. Just a minor query from an unremarkable case that he wanted to clear up before leaving because, well – he was George. And George found joy in leaving no question unanswered, no stone unturned.

Next to a bad drawing of a Rawbones, he’d jotted down a to-do list for himself on the thinking cloth. He contemplated his scribblings for the millionth time, and then peered up at Lucy over the rim of his glasses. “No more scarf, then?”

“No.”

“Shame. You were about to kick off a new fashion trend.”

Holly entered the kitchen. She’d been busy cleaning the living room, if the three apple cores she held at arm's length before throwing in the bin were anything to go by. “I thought it looked quite quaint.”

Lucy gave her a look. “You don’t need to lie, Hol.”

Lockwood rested a hand on her shoulder and lit up the room with his grin. “Lucy was only hesitant to admit I bested her during our rapier practice last night. I do feel quite bad for catching her neck with my blade, though.”

Holly and George exchanged looks, and for an uncomfortably quiet moment, Lucy feared they’d seen right through the cover story.

“Don’t feel bad,” George eventually said. “She’d be ecstatic if she managed to do that to you.”

Holly nodded in agreement, and Lockwood turned to Lucy with an almost wounded look. “Would you?”

“Of course. Better watch your back the next time we practice. Might get my revenge.”

end note: now with a Revenge sequel!

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co fic #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #locklyle #czenzo.fic

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aftersamu · 2 years

Text

kicked out of the restaurant.

humiliated in public, amongst your friends, all because of that tall, messy-haired, nerd who doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut for ten-minutes. always has to provoke, always has to rile you up and pick a fight that he never wins.

now, as a consequence for falling into the web – that is his stupidity – you’re standing out on the street, in the pouring rain with the same man who is responsible.

kuroo’s standing there, drenched, with a stupid smirk plastered on his face as he looks at you with those hazel eyes.

“what are you so happy about?” you scoff, starting to walk down the path – towards the nearest train station – him joining you at your side.

you couldn’t understand what’s got kuroo so smiley, both of you had gotten kicked out of the restaurant and forced to leave the dinner you were having with a group of friends. arms crossed, eyebrows pinched together and eyes slightly narrowed. dealing with the water droplets running down your face and soaking your clothes.

“oh nothing,” he hums, hands shoved in the front pocket of his jeans. glancing at you from the side of his eye, stopping that boy-like grin from spreading across his features.

kuroo quite fondly enjoyed pushing your buttons, although this time it was unintentional. he didn’t mean to cause a scene earlier, or to anger you – it was a natural impulse.

seeing you sat across from him, so comfortable. you weren’t rolling your eyes, nor did you have that unimpressed look you always sported when around him.

must’ve been the first time he’s seen you genuinely smile, eyes crinkling as you laughed at whatever joke or comment a friend had made. of course he’d be in awe.

“you know this is all your fault,” you mutter.

“that’s not very fair now, is it?” kuroo says, “i’m sure it was you who chose to make something out of nothing.”

“oh? i’m sorry, i don’t recall insulting you first!” you retort, “if anything, i was mirroring your energy.”

there is that bubbling feeling inside you again. always arising whenever he’s around, however the most confusing thing about it all is despite how badly your mind just begs to explode, there’s that lingering sense of comfort.

“well you can’t just go blaming everything on me,” he shrugs, “i thought you were the bigger person?” taunting you, pleased upon seeing you roll your eyes and shake your head as you bite the inside of your cheek.

“apparently not, since i always put up with your shit.”

“whoa, all this time you’ve been putting up with me?” kuroo questions, sarcastic, “and here i thought we were friends.”

“please? friends?” you say, “we’re far from being friends.”

“and why’s that?”

“hmm…” humming, dragging out the noise, building suspense to the list of things you have to say. “let’s see,” tapping your chin, “you’re annoying, you never shut up, you’re shit at jokes – which makes it hard for me not to laugh at them.” counting on your fingers as you begin to rant.

“i hate your face, your hair is dumb, your smile is crooked, you’re practically a sleazy con-man – miya, of all people, said so himself.” stopping in your tracks to face the man and tell all of this while staring into his eyes, “you use cheesy pick-up lines and think counting shoulders is flirting.”

“keep going,” kuroo encouraged, liking the stream of insults and comments that naturally flow out your mouth.

“you’re so-so! confusing!” you yell, unable to process the burst of frustration that overcomes you, “one minute you’re acting like a complete dick then a second later you’re feeling remorse, like some intuitive mother fucker?”

kuroo just stares at you, basking in this little conversation. a scratching feeling in the back of his head and a small feeling of warmth in his heart. he actually likes you.

the way you manage to match his energy, always prepared with a comeback. constantly drawing him towards you.

“every time you even look at me, it’s like i fucking loose control!” continuing on your tangent, “i want to punch your teeth sometimes and put you in a bodybag!” panting, tired, from all the yelling you’ve done – letting the sound of rain falling surround the two of you.

then, a smile appears on kuroo’s face. “you like me,” he teases, “you can’t stand to be around me because i’m just too resistible.”

“are you kidding!” you retort, “where did you get that from?!” starting to wave your arms around in the air, “no! i don’t want to like – i don’t like – you! i just want to tie you up, and keep you in a cage!”

“you like me, admit it!” kuroo says, wanting to hear something from you before he puts himself out on the line. “tell me you love me!”

“i don’t love you!” you argue, “i don’t even like you! i don’t like how whenever i look at you, you’re already looking at me. or how you always stand by me on the train ride home, or those stupid notes you pass to me during meetings!”

“oh come on, you laugh at them.” he states, recalling the number of memories of you biting back those smiles at his drawings or comments written on the small piece of paper.

“they’re ridiculous! especially when you randomly order pizza under my name, like, what the fuck dude?”

“well i don’t like how your laugh can be heard from miles away,” kuroo tells, choosing to bite back. “and it’s annoying whenever your rings drop on the table ‘cause you never stop fidgeting, hey! and when you get excited, you talk really fast – no one can understand you!”

“i don’t do that!”

“uh, yes you do! you’re just not as observant.”

“god! you’re so annoying!” you yell, “i wish there was a way to shut you the fuck up-!”

cut off, being pulled to kuroo’s chest, hands placed on either side of your face as his lips collide with yours. he feels you relax into the kiss, your hands reaching up to his wet hair – entwining themselves in it – pulling him closer to you.

this all felt so weird, so strange.

neither of you ever expected to be in this situation, hearts racing, heat rushing to your cheeks. the intoxicating feeling that succumbs you, so unforgettable and unfamiliar. ignited by a fire filled with passion, and frustration.

the feeling of his lips against yours, so soft yet rough, an arm that slings around your waist holding you close and tight.

unsure of all the feelings and rush of emotions that scatter your mind, whereas kuroo couldn’t be more content with life since nothing beats this feeling.

pushing aside everything to meet a middle ground with the person you swore you loved to torture, a middle ground to bring the two of you together.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#hq #hq x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu kuroo #haikyu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo scenarios #kuroo drabble #hq kuroo #kuroo imagine #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo testuro #hq fanfic

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hellframe · 4 months

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Macaulay twins & Thackeray

A nod to Vanity Fair in chpt. 2 makes not much sense at first, though for Richard it must’ve been rather alarming — Rawdon Crawley played cards to fleece his comrades.

However, this association may be a clue to understanding what is happening around the Macaulay twins in Book 2.

The parallel between Charles and Rawdon becomes more clear in retrospect, closer to end of the novel.

Both from respectable families but empty-headed, moneyless and dependent on relatives, they spend time drinking, gambling and screwing around. Both have debts — tend to be overly jealous — get arrested — get involved in love scandal with a rich rival — are ruined but ready to fight — end up in exile.

Yet, the only important thing here is Rawdon's relationship with his wife.

At her brother's elbow Camilla played the role of Becky Sharp in marriage with Rawdon: an attractive young couple that works in tandem, using their charm and wit to take advantage of wealthy friends, and exploiting affections of others to live a better life.

Francis gave some insights into this symbiotic relationship, describing it as 'they like to present a unified front but I don't even know how much they care about each other' (chpt. 8).

When Camilla abandoned this unified front, for Charles it was a betrayal as if she used to be his business partner, not just a lover or family member.

The most notable link to Becky is the role of Clytemnestra, performed by Camilla as well, and the symbolic meaning of it in both novels.

Like Clytemnestra, Becky Sharp is an archetype of a predatory female in disguise of false innocence. Strong-willed, cunning and bold, she’s a skilled actress and manipulator, still unable to predict the consequences of some of her actions.

At some point Camilla makes it clear to Richard that drunk Charles abused her, but Richard is surprisingly angry with her. He questions how Camilla got her injuries, because he feels that something's wrong (chpt. 8).

This situation looks quite peculiar in view of the analogy to Vanity Fair.

Camilla's counterpart, Becky Sharp, complained to her patron Lord Steyne that she experienced all sorts of injustice from Rawdon Crawley (VF chpt. 52). It sounds false, because Rawdon could’ve been a bully with other men, but with Becky he was a meek, submissive husband. All her complaints had only one purpose: to be pitied for her own benefit.

It's unclear to what extent this analogy works, but it may explain why Camilla wanted to put a distance between Richard and Charles. If she lied to Henry, or rather manipulated him, she wouldn't be glad to be exposed: just like in case with Bunny, Richard still was an alarm bell, the first person to whom the one can confide.

Thus she had to neutralise him. And thus she was unable to reconcile Charles and Henry later.

I dare say, Henry had seen what was going on, but he was glad to get rid of the third party in their love triangle anyway. Even Richard doubted his 'good' intentions.

Rawdon Crawley said about his wife: "if she's not guilty, ... she's as bad as guilty" (VF chpt. 55). It might illustrate Charles's point of view as well. Like Becky, his sister didn't want to bet on a losing dog. But even if Camilla had no evil intentions, the consequences of her actions were awful — she opened a Pandora's box.

According to Thackeray, “it is the unwritten part of books that would be most interesting”. And Donna Tartt used this principle full on, leaving all crucial events in shadows, but giving some hints to lead and mislead her reader through carefully constructed cultural references.

Which also can be just some Metahemeralism.

#the secret history #charles macaulay #camilla macaulay #tsh analysis #metahemeralism

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meme-streets · 3 months

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dollars event day 6. prompt: money ---

“What would you spend all that money on?” Tuco has asked him once, slumped languidly back against the wooden siding of the wagon. He’d been half asleep; he must’ve been, because otherwise they didn’t talk about the gold. Too many assumptions there that neither of them wanted to make. “I don’t think it’s wise to spend money you haven’t got,” Blondie had replied, a pit in his stomach, and Tuco had made a sullen kind of a noise and put his hat down over his eyes and that was the end of it.

Well, now he’s got the money and he still hasn’t got an answer to that question.

A hundred thousand dollars. It’s an almost obscene amount of money. He's never been one for buying much more than the bare necessities; Tuco had always ragged him for never spending the money they made pulling the rope trick. There hadn't been anything he wanted that badly, and there's certainly not anything he wants now that costs that much. He doesn't even know what people put that kind of money into. Land, probably, but land’s got to be managed, tended, looked after, and consequently stuck close to, and he has no desire to do that. Might be useful to have a place to come back to, but his hideouts in the past have all been temporary–caves and old shacks and abandoned farmhouses–and it's suited him just fine. Even a permanent hideout has to have somebody to look after, which means hiring somebody, and he's got no desire to do that either. So he does what he always does: he keeps moving. He’ll figure out what to do with the money on the road.

In one town he tries to gamble some of it but despite his well-practiced poker face, he's not much of a card player. Too cautious. He wins a little and then gets impulsive and goes all in on a bad bluff and loses it. He isn't even angry.

In another he spends a night in a too-fancy hotel getting drunk on champagne behind his locked door before he discovers he hates champagne and remembers he hates being drunk. Spends another half a day nursing the worst hangover of his life, spends the second half lying around doing nothing but feeling sorry for himself and consequently bored out of his skull, sleeps horribly on the overplush bed, and checks out at the crack of dawn the next morning, thoroughly disgusted with himself and convinced the life of the idle rich isn’t for him.

He leaves a considerable chunk of it in a sack outside a San Antonio mission. He considers a note but doesn't know what to say. Considers signing somebody else’s name, but that won’t go over and he knows it. So he just leaves it in the night and rides off without so much as getting off the horse, and if he sees a half-familiar figure in the window watching him go, he decides not to make anything of it.

Each inkling of civilization he passes through (and at this point he skirts it) he hides all of it he doesn't need someplace outside of town, but then he has to go pick it up again and that gets old fast. It's heavy. It weighs him down. It puts a target on his back, has him sleeping with his hand on his gun more even than he used to, has him waking up at every little sound, has him watching every lone stranger on the range with eagle’s eyes and his jaw set too firm. One night setting up camp he gets so sore at the sight of those money bags it makes him almost sick. He buries all but a couple thousand in a dozen different places all across the desert and accidentally-on-purpose halfway forgets all of them. He hurls his shovel off the top of a ridge and listens to the distant clatter it makes in the depth of the canyon and he only sort of feels better.

He tries bounty hunting for a while, legitimate, but in truth he was never as much as a bounty hunter as he let Tuco think. His heart wasn't in it then and even less now. He scans newspapers and wanted posters and tries not to feel twisted-up inside when he doesn't see what he wants. He spends hours looking over maps. Thinks of going to Flagstaff where the high mountains are coated in snow, thinks about going to California to see the ocean. It does sound nice. Get away from all this, from the heat, from the dust, from the memories. Somewhere nobody’s ever seen his face before. Something stops him, and it's nothing to do with money.

There's only one worthwhile thing he spends any money on, and it's a neat little pair of binoculars that he saw in a shop and thought it might be nice to see from a distance who and what was coming and going. One morning he sees smoke on the horizon, back the way he had come from, and peering through the glass he spies a figure, small and blurry and familiar. And for the first time since Sad Hill, Blondie smiles.

#dollarsfandomevent #harry's writing #fanfic #the good the bad and the ugly #dollars trilogy

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egalitarian-tomboy · 1 year

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Rocky the Demented Matchmaker (A Lackadaisy Theory)

Before we get into the post I want to clarify that this post has spoilers for the Lackadaisy webcomic & overarching world that has been canonized so far. If you would like to avoid spoilers for the comic, please bookmark this post and go read up to the latest chapter currently available on the Lackadaisy official website. You have been warned.

After Rocky, in a moment of delirious honesty, admitted to Ivy that he took the blame for a family tragedy that he might’ve had nothing to do with in order to keep Freckle in school undisturbed by the consequences of what happened. It’s clear how much he loves his cousin. I’d even go as far as to say that he considers him more of a brother than a cousin. Since he’s a whole 5 years older than him, there’s a considerable age gap between the two in regards to life experience and knowledge about the world. Even if he isn’t book smart, Rocky’s got more street smarts that it’s all second nature to him. So when he gets his cousin into the business of liquor running for Lackadaisy as a hired gunman partner, he wants to offer him something in exchange for putting his life on the line - A Girlfriend / Possible Wife.

Keep in mind this series takes place in 1927. 2 years before the Great Depression and creeping toward the looming collapse of the prohibition era in 1933. During this time men were typically married by 24 while women were married by 21. Although there are cases that show that some men and women got married as young as 17 (with parental consent). Rocky is 23 years old, a Bachelor who has never been married or has been in a serious romantic relationship (that we know of). From his current line of work and his mental state of mind right now, finding a wife is the least of his concerns. But that isn’t the case for Freckle. While his mother is still pretty young, 48 years old to be exact, that doesn’t mean that Freckle wouldn’t have some prodding from her regarding settling down and having kids of his own.

So what do you do when your cousin is a fellow bachelor that’s down on his luck? You introduce him to someone that might want to be something more than friends.

In comes Ivy Pepper. Goddaughter of Mitzi’s deceased Husband and recently single jazz baby of the Lackadaisy. She’s not single for what she’s done on her part per say, it’s because Viktor intimidates all of her ex boyfriends physically to the point of being put in a wheel chair for going near her since he sees her as a daughter to him. So how far in the relationships she actually got are up in the air. But the moment she meets Freckle, she’s head over heels for him. Immediately noting how cute he is and inviting him on a date while Rocky gets something to clean up the mess she made on purpose to distract him.

Now you can say that Rocky had no intentions on playing matchmaker, since they just got done extracting revenge on the pig farmers, I’d argue that Rocky knew exactly what he was doing when he introduced him to Ivy. Especially since his reaction to her calling Freckle her boyfriend and proclaiming to Viktor they’re dating wasn’t one of confusion, it was gleeful teasing. Even before that, when they were at Ivy’s college he teased Freckle about how Ivy must’ve fallen head over heels for him already in a wink-wink nudge-nudge kind of way. Trying to get across the idea of maybe seeing Ivy as a girlfriend or possible wife in the future. Even his teasing / overreacting of her asking if Freckle was introducing her to his mother was more panicked in the way that it was far too early for Freckle to introduce her as his girlfriend. They hadn’t even had a proper date or first kiss. a REAL first kiss. Not what she did before as a quick peck on the lips after they got done meeting with Viktor. No that real proper first kiss would come later.

SPEAKING OF WHICH. The other reason why I believe Rocky is the maniacal mastermind behind this ship, the crazed captain if you will, is because of the way he talks to Freckle after he had his first real kiss with Ivy in the truck. Asking him if they still weren’t on a first name basis after kissing / possibly making out in that truck. To which Freckle officially starts calling her Ivy instead of Miss Pepper. Even though he didn’t deny being her boyfriend in front of Viktor after she declared them a couple, he didn’t necessarily agree that he was her boyfriend either. It wasn’t until she kissed him quickly on the lips in the car that he possibly started to truly fall in love with her. She smooched him once and he was ready to ask her for another kiss before he went off on his big night with Rocky. But this time, a proper one where they had more privacy and Rocky wasn’t there to make any sort of remarks.

And all my mans had to say after they were in the truck together was “Are you seriously not on a first name basis after kissing like THAT?”

Nah.

You can’t tell me that Rocky hasn’t been playing matchmaker this entire time trying to get his cousin a girlfriend. Nope. Nuh uh.

#Lackadaisy #Lackadaisy spoilers #Long Post #Ivy x Calvin #Ivy x Freckle #Calvin x Ivy #Freckle x Ivy #Ivy Pepper #Calvin McMurray #Rocky Rickaby #Lackadaisy Theory #Haven't done one of these in a while

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pollenallergie · 8 months

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older!tom insisting on making you dinner one night after work, he's just like "please, love, you had a long day, pop 'round my flat around 8 and we can have dinner"

and when you walk in, he's got candles lit and smooth music playing, and he gives you a small kiss before asking if you want some wine, and you're like "wait wait, what's going on?"

and he turns beet red "well, i just... you had a hard day at work, and i figured i'd give the romance thing a shot... s'been a while since i've had to romance a bird. am i doin alright?"

and you smile and throw your arms around him and smooch him so big "yes, my tommy, you're doing splendid"

just agh tom rediscovering his youth with you and sksksksk i love it

Listen, Tom’s trying soooo hard. The boyfriend stuff used to come so naturally to him, but then, shit happened and kept happening for the earliest years of his adulthood (pre-hoe phase), and he sort of lost his inherent boyfriend-ness along the way. Or so he thought…

But then Tom hears about the shit day you’ve been having. Firstly, you’d missed your alarm and woke up late this morning. Then your building must’ve decided that having hot water was just not on the agenda for the day, so you’d had to take a freezing cold shower. To make matters worse, your dog had puked before you could even get out of the door, so you’d had to stick around longer to clean that up. Consequently, you’d been late to work and gotten bitched at by one of your coworkers for it. Of course, your day suddenly got really busy right at lunchtime, so you hadn’t had time to eat anything other than the Kinder Bueno you’d had tucked away in your desk drawer for a couple of weeks. Next, you’d spilled coffee on your favourite work outfit (it was a cold mug of coffee leftover from the morning, so it didn’t hurt, but it still stained). Finally, to top it all off, you’d dropped your phone and cracked the screen during your commute home.

Tom hears about all of it on the phone as soon as you get home. You call him to vent about the shit day you had, expecting him to merely offer some words of sympathy, only for him to invite you over to his place; he even tells you to bring your dog, too, so you don’t have to leave them home alone. And, listen, you really don’t feel like leaving the house, not after the horrid day you’ve had. However, you can’t deny that you want to see Tom, that you miss him after not having seen him for a few days (both of you have been quite busy with work). So, you change into some comfortable clothes, maybe trackies and a jumper or casual shorts and a t-shirt, depending on the weather, leash up your pup, and head over to Tom’s.

When you walk in, you immediately feel underdressed. His tiny flat now feels like a fancy restaurant, and you look like you’re dressed to go jogging. He’s lit candles, turned on some slow, easy music, and set his small dining table up to look like a table for two at the lovely Italian restaurant he took you to on your birthday. You shut the door behind you and remove your shoes, calling out to him as you unleash your dog, who immediately runs off to find his best friends, Jago and Haz. Tom returns your call from his kitchen, beckoning you in there as he’s too preoccupied with cooking something on the stove to greet you at the door the way he usually does, the way he wants to. You find him in the kitchen labouring away over the stove, making your favourite comfort meal, a dish from back home that your nan used to make you. It’s a dish that you know he doesn’t have the first clue how to make, which means he had to put in the effort to look up a recipe and learn how to make it. The thought of him researching how to make your favourite dish warms your heart; it’s a simple thing, a small effort, but it’s an effort nonetheless.

Tom immediately steps away from the stove, turns to you, and heads over to greet you with a soft, warm kiss and a bright smile. He takes your bag from you and asks you to watch what he has going on the stove while he runs out of the room quickly to grab something for you. Of course, you oblige. When he comes back into the room, he’s since ditched your bag, likely setting it down on the lounge chair he uses as a catchall, and is now brandishing a bouquet of your favourite flowers. You melt at the sight of him. Tom sets the flowers on the counter and tells you to remind him not to let you forget them here later. He then asks if you want some wine and informs you that he has a bottle of your favourite chilling in the fridge. You nod your confirmation, finding it hard to speak. The pure loving energy in the room has you starting to choke up, and you just barely manage to peep out, “Tommy, what’s all this?”

He blushes as he pours you both glasses of wine, the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks turning a lovely rosy shade. He explains everything to you: how he wants to help cheer you up after the awful day you’ve had, how he’s trying his best to be a good boyfriend to you, how he hasn’t done something like this in a long time and, frankly, isn’t even sure if he’s doing an alright job at it. The warm, lovely feeling that’s blooming in your chest is all-consuming; it warms you from the roundness of your cheeks to the tips of your toes, like you’ve just taken a sip of some tea on a cold day, as your face splits into a beaming grin. You can’t resist the urge to crash into him, to pull him into a tight, warm embrace and plant an emphatic kiss on his plush pink lips.

You reassure Tom that he’s doing lovely, that he’s making you so happy, and you even confess that no one has really ever done anything like this for you before. At that moment, he internally vows to do things like this for you all the time: candlelit dinners when you’ve had a rough day, warming up a blanket for you and making you a cuppa when you get cold, rubbing your shoulders when they begin to ache from slouching at your desk all day, anything and everything to make you smile, to take care of you, to show you how much he loves you- no, wait, not love. It’s too soon for love. Surely he can’t… He doesn’t mean that. But, fuck, no, you know what, he does mean that. Tom loves you. Maybe one day he’ll be brave enough to tell you that, but, for now, he’ll settle for simply showing you how much he loves you. Actions speak louder than words, anyway, right?

Tom’s not exaggerating, either. He hasn’t done anything like this for anyone since he was still a boy, only 18, and not at all scared of loving too intensely. Back then, he didn’t even believe there was such a thing as loving someone too intensely. However, you don’t seem put off by this at all. In fact, you seem to like it… Not even just ‘seem’ to like it; you’re telling him that you love it, that you’re happy, that he’s making you happy. Your reassurances encourage him to offer you more love, to do more for you simply because he wants to. Tom does the dishes after dinner while you’re snuggled up on the couch with The Lads and your pup. He then runs you a warm, relaxing bath, and, when you ask him to join you in there, he doesn’t hesitate to oblige you. Next, he takes care of The Lads and your dog while you get ready for bed, changing into a pair of pajamas you’d forgotten you’d even left here, and using the spare toothbrush Tom keeps for you to brush your teeth. You don’t have any clothes here to change into for work in the morning, but Tom’s already assured you that he’ll wake up early to drop you back at your place so that you have time to get ready before work, and that, if need be, he’ll even give you a ride to work to save time. Once you’ve both gotten ready for bed, and The Lads and your dog have been sufficiently attended to, you and Tom cuddle up in his bed together. You’re both too tired to do anything but go to sleep, but Tom has promised that, so long as you don’t mind waking up obnoxiously early, he’ll gladly attend to your other needs in the morning before he takes you back to yours.

Tom is not only rediscovering his knack for romance with you, but he’s also rediscovering his sense of domesticity; he’s rediscovering how truly wonderful it can be to take care of the people that you love, to make them smile, to ease their worries. Of course, you also help him rediscover how incredible it is to be taken care of, himself, to be spoiled and loved.

#moots moots lovely moots <3 #bex <3 #ask and i shall reply #tom grant x reader #older!tom #older!tom grant #tom grant #tom grant (make up)#make up 2019

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theelvenhaven · 2 years

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I might be late to the party on this but I had such an AHA! Moment.

You know the hatred of Indis that Fëanor has for her, just became all the sudden so apparent reading The Peoples of Middle Earth and in the Shibboleth of Fëanor. I just got it yesterday in the mail finally and started reading last night.

I mean we get a general idea in The Silmarillion about how Míriel chose not to be reborn, and then Finwë eventually was able to marry Indis. Which Fëanor hated her as a result and the children she bore for his father.

But when you read in the Shibboleth of Fëanor his hatred for Indis makes so much more sense than he’s just angry Indis married his father. Fëanor isn’t just angry that Indis married his father, he’s angry that because his father remarried, his mother could never be reborn.

To him Indis stole that choice from Míriel the moment she showed his father the love she held for him.

He was probably holding out hope when Finwë went to the Valar for counsel that they’d deny him. I mean yeah his father was happy but what about his mother? It was no secret the Eldar couldn’t have two wives so obviously to Fëanor that would mean they’d deny his request right?

But they didn’t. Instead they said;

“So she must remain until the end of the world. For from the moment that Finwë and Indis are joined in marriage all future change and choice will be taken from her and she will never again be permitted to take bodily shape. Her present body will swiftly wither and pass away, and the Valar will not restore it. For none of the Eldar may have two wives both alive in the world.”

- The Valar, The Shibboleth of Fëanor, The Peoples of Middle Earth

Imagine you’re a young Fëanor holding out hope that your mother who is now left in peace will one day decide to come back to her body. Then it is just ripped away from you the moment the Valar decree it so. That’s such a crushing blow.

Not only will his mother not be reborn, but now he loses the last physical connection with Míriel. No more visiting her body, no more speaking with her body to console himself or feel close to her, or holding her hand while her body lay there. It’s now all gone.

And to Fëanor it is all Indis’ fault.

If she wouldn’t have shown her love, if she wouldn’t have been so selfish to not consider Fëanor, or the consequences that could come to avoid bigamy then it all could’ve been avoided.

And his hatred for Indis’ children make so much more sense now too. They are a representation of everything that Finwë could’ve had with Míriel. They’re a constant reminder to Fëanor of what he lost, what could’ve been with his mother.

It couldn’t possibly be- in Fëanor’s mind- his fathers fault. He wasn’t even considering remarriage until he met her. His father, while unhappy, was only considering his mother. Surely, to Fëanor, he was conflicted about going through with it. It must’ve been Indis that pushed. Not his father. Which would be why his connection with his father wasn’t severed.

To him too maybe this is breeds some kind of distrust and resentment for the Valar. Especially later in his life. The Valar had been cruel and denied him, in a sense, a reunion with his mother. The ability to be a family again.

#jrr tolkien #tolkien #the silm #the silmarillion #silmarillion #silm #the peoples of middle earth #the history of middle earth #Finwe #indis #Fëanor #Miriel #Curufinwë #Fëanorian

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qu0kkarambles · 2 years

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Part 2 - Copy room

Warnings- smut (minors dni), sex in public, protected sex, rushed sex, tiny bit of teasing, nearly getting caught

Authors note- part 2 is here hope y’all enjoyed part 1 and are excited for part 3 :)

Word count - 2.6k

You staggered into the office Tuesday morning, a restless night of tossing and turning obvious on your face. You had been thinking all night about jay. About what would happen next. By the time your alarm went off this morning, you honestly wanted to just crawl under the covers and hide from the world. But you knew that wasn’t an option. You weren’t a child anymore, or some angst-ridden teen who could hide from her problems. You were an adult and you would have to face your consequences head on. Even if the thought of that terrified you.

You had fucked your boss. In his office. Right after he gave you the new client. It was bad. If word spread around the office you’d be hated, rumours of sleeping your way to the top would never end and you’d probably end up moving company. All of this was worst case scenario, which was what you had to keep reminding yourself on your commute into the office. No one would need to know. It would never happen again. And you could just pretend it never happened in the first place.

Your pep talk on the way to work lasted all of five minutes once you actually made it to the office. You sat yourself at your desk and within minutes Jay was strolling through the office, his affect on you still overwhelming. You tried to be subtle, pushing your thighs closer together to gain some sort of friction. You were insatiable and you hated it.

‘Morning y/n’ Jay said over Sunghoon head, a devilish smirk across his face. ‘Morning’ you replied quietly, desperate for the interaction to be over. Taking your quiet voice and bowed head as a sign that you didn’t want to talk, Jay sulked into his office. You missed the hurt expression that briefly flickered across his face, but it wasn’t unnoticed by Sunghoon. He saw how dejected you looked and assumed something must’ve happened with the new account last night.

‘Y/n.’ Sunghoon called for you. ‘Let’s go grab a coffee. My treat.’

Not wanting to miss a free coffee, and also wanting to leave the office as soon as possible you took him up on the offer. You both took the lift downstairs together, and made the quick walk to your favourite coffee shop just down the street. You order an iced latte and find a table while Sunghoon orders his own drink and waits for them both. 5 minutes later you’re sat in the small coffee shop opposite Sunghoon with an ice latte and a piece of cake that he bought for you. The first sip of latte made you feel more together in an instant, but it didn’t last long once Sunghoon started talking.

‘So what happened last night?’ He asked, peering at you over his cappuccino.

‘What do you mean?’ You replied, heart beat quickening at the memory of last night. You tried to hide your reaction by taking a bite of cake, allowing the sugary goodness to flood across your tongue before looking back to him.

‘You’re my closest work friend and I mean this in the nicest way but you look exhausted. You clearly didn’t sleep, you’re out of it today. And not to mention how awkward it was before. Something happened in your meeting with jay.’ His observations weren’t wrong, but you promised yourself no one would know, so you tried to play it off cool.

‘We talked about the account. He showed me how the software works and that was it. I just slept badly I promise.’ You lied. You would have to try harder to avoid jay if sunghoon was going to keep looking at you with such a concerned look on his face. ‘I promise hoon. I’m good.’ Your reassurance did little to persuade him, but he knew he’d get nothing out of you. You were notorious for being secretive. And if you didn’t want him to know, he wouldn’t pry. But that wouldn’t stop him worrying.

Once you both finished the cake, you took your coffees to go, quickly walking back to the office before anyone realised you’d been gone too long. Once back at your desk, you snook a look into jays office, only to see him intensely concentrated on his work. Good. That’s what you needed to do. And so for the next few hours, you focused intently on your work, coming to grips with the new software and starting research on the new client you’d be handling. All was going well until you heard your name bellowed across the office.

‘Y/n.’ Jays face was stern and stoic, looking in your direction from his office door. You stood to walk toward him as he thrust a pile of paperwork at you. ‘We need 50 copies of all of these forms. Get it sorted’ he demanded, turning back into his office once he’d deposited the forms in your arms. The stack of paper was massive, and the copying alone would take an age. Why was he being like this?

He switched so quickly. Last night and even this morning it seemed like he was in a good mood. Kind, sexy, caring. Yet now he was harsh and cold toward you. You couldn’t help but feel a little hurt, although the more you thought about it, it was probably for the best. No one would suspect you two of being together if he was cold toward you. What you failed to realise was the hurt he felt watching you leave the office with Sunghoon earlier that day, clearly returning happier.

Cradling the pile of paperwork, you headed to the copy room one floor down. There you were met as always by a smiling jake, always happy to see you. ‘Y/n. Let me grab them’ he said as he moved to take the pile from your hands. ‘Wait jake n-‘ before you could finish warning him he had already grabbed at the papers, causing your grip on them to fail and 90% of the forms to go cascading to the floor. You dropped to your knees to start collecting the forms into a pile as jake did the same.

‘Oh my god y/n I’m so sorry I didn’t realise they were unstable’ he said apologising profusely. ‘It’s fine just help me pick them up’ you replied, stress levels steadily rising once again. You shuffled papers together slowly picking them all up. As you went to turn to jake to see if he had more to collect, your lips brushed against his. He had turned to you at the same time, and your closeness meant that his soft plump lips brushed gently across your own. ‘We just- did we- we kissed omg I- I’m sorry- I-‘ jake interrupted your stuttering, firmly planting his lips against yours to quiet your apologies. He moved firmly, sure of his every action as his hand moved to your nape, pulling your face closer to him. As he pulled away your face was full of shock. ‘That’s what you call a kiss. Not some accident.’ He said, staring into your eyes as you caught your breath. He moved to place gentle kisses against your cheek as you processed what was happening.

‘Y/n. You know full well that I’ve had the fattest crush on you for the past year. Please just give me a chance. Please’ he looked so gentle, so caring and kind. Unsure what came over you, you threw caution to the wind and crashed your lips against his once more, catching him by surprise. His surprise fell into the kiss, his small gasp quickly swallowed up by his low groans and your small whines. He pulled back from you once more to lift you both up from the floor.

Perching himself on his office chair, he pulled you closer to straddle his lap, hands resting firmly against your ass. ‘God I’ve wanted this for so long. Need you now y/n’ he said into your neck as you started to grind your hips against his. His movements were rushed, hands quickly finding their way under your shirt, sloppy kisses left over your neck and jaw as you worked yourself up grinding against him. ‘Please jakey.’ You begged, arms around his shoulders pulling you closer to him.

He shifted your weight in his lap to allow him to release his member from his trousers, pulling you closer to him as soon as he was free. You could feel his length teasing against the fabric of your panties, your wetness soaking through the material. The feel of him against you made you moan out lowly, gasping and panting with anticipation.

‘Wait. Fuck wait a sec’ he said, pulling his face from the crook of your neck. ‘What? Jakey what is it?’ You questioned, your desperation quickly growing. Rather than answering you, he reached into the drawer of his desk, pulling out a small silver foil before smirking back at you. ‘Gotta use protection my love’ he replied with a cheeky grin. He made quick work of opening the condom, sheathing himself in the latex before resuming his previous teasing.

Sloppy kisses along your neck and the feel of his length against your entrance was too much for you to deal with, as you begged for him. ‘Please jakey. Need you to fill me up now. Please jakey’ you moaned out as he pulled your panties to the side. You lifted your hips to allow him to position himself, his hands on your hips guiding you down on him. The only sound in the room was your deep moans and the slapping of your skin against his as he quickly thrust himself in and out of you, working himself impossibly close to his high. You held firm to his shoulders, his chest and back surprisingly muscular, and perfect to hold while you bounced yourself on him.

‘Fuck y/n. Wanna cum already fuck you’re so perfect’ he breathed into your ear, pace never slowing. He had been waiting for an opportunity with you for so long, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Snaking his hand around to your front, his fingers began to work your clit, pace matching his thrusts as you moaned out. ‘Fuck jakey shit so close jakey please please god fuck’ you’re moans and pleas filled the room, and before long you were falling apart on jakes lap, followed immediately by him, filling the condom inside of you.

Both of your hips stilled as you caught your breath, jake still leaving quick soft kisses along your neck, jaw, forehead, cheek. Once you were able, you lifted yourself off of him, the overstimulation making you both sensitive. He quickly binned the used latex before adjusting his trousers, repositioning his member back in his underwear. While he sorted himself, you reached for a tissue from his desk to clean yourself up. You’re brain working overtime. Your time with Jake was rushed and frantic, and you were breathless and desperate for more.

You had barely processed sleeping with your boss yesterday, and here you work getting down and dirty in the copy room. And with Jake of all people, who you knew was never going to let this go. Shit.

You had both just about straightened yourself up when a colleague you recognised from the floor above you knocked on the office door, entering before either of you could reply. As much as her timing was awful, it was also brilliant for you, offering the perfect excuse to leave jake. ‘So as I said, 50 copies of each please. Thanks again jake.’ You said, turning to walk before he could reply. As you passed through the door, you heard the start of another copy request, and dashed quickly back to your desk, desperate to hide from jake.

You made it back to your desk when you received a text from jay.

From jay

My office 5pm please

You sighed into your phone as you read the notification, not yet fully opening the message. The thought of being alone with jay in his office again made your heart flutter and your head hurt. At the same time, your phone buzzed with another message.

From jake

You ran off. Why did you run off? We need to talk y/n.

Yep you would ignore that one as well. You were struggling to deal with the past 2 days, leaving both messages unopened as a headache began to form at the front of your head. Another buzz from your phone made you groan. Why did they keep messaging you? You picked up the screen to see a message from Sunghoon.

From Sunghoon

Popped out for lunch- want anything?

You’re stomach was growling but you didn’t reply until you had replied to jays message.

Sorry have to leave the office early not feeling well.

You fired the same message to jake and Sunghoon before packing up your stuff, dashing out of the office and homeward bound before any of them could reply.

Finally home you showered, got in your comfy pajamas and ordered food before you even dared to look at any of the messages you’d received. Ignorance truly is bliss, as they say.

Once the food arrived you watched a new romcom, only daring to open your messages once you were fed and snuggled in. Deciding you couldn’t put it off any longer, you opened your phone.

From jay

What do you mean you’re going home?

Y/n??

You’ve actually left?

Why aren’t you answering?

????????

From jake

Really? Are you ok? Was I ok?

Are you really feeling ill or is this because of what just happened between us

Please don’t shut me out

Y/n

?????

I’m not gonna go away until you reply

???

From Sunghoon

Oh ok hope you’re ok

Jays acting weird

So is jake

Why is everyone acting weird today

Does this have something to do with you leaving early?

You decide to ignore them all, putting your phone on do not disturb rather than replying, starting up another film to distract yourself. Before you knew it you were fast asleep, film still playing in the background.

You woke around 10pm, made yourself a snack and then went to bed for the night, still refusing to look at your phone, desperate to hide from your own actions.

At 6am you called your HR department, calling in sick for the day, still feeling groggy and confused. You knew nothing could happen with Jake or Jay. But you also knew that neither of them would take that news very well. And worse of all you hated the thought of your sex life traveling around the office, even if the juiciest parts took place in the very same building.

By Thursday you had planned what you would say to the boys, the conversation perfectly practised in your head. You stayed off work, needing more time to prepare, deciding to stop hiding from the world and open your messages. There was 10 from jake, another 20 from jay but only 3 from Sunghoon. Three seemed less overwhelming and so you opened Sunghoon first.

Y/n hope you’re doing ok you just be really sick if you’re still off

If you need anything ring me

Feeling any better yet?

His concern for you was cute, and you figured if anything would help give you the strength to face jay and jake, it would be a world famous Sunghoon pep talk.

Hey hoon I’m good have a lot to tell you tho you should come over

Typing quickly and attaching your address you hopped in the shower to clean up before your guest arrived.

Taglist- @lix-freckle3 @axartia @enhasengene @sjakewrld @abdiitcryy @yunjardi @kihyuni3

#kpop smut #kpop #enhypen smut #enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen jake #enhypen series

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