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fernpost · 3 years

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Cycle 0 - Interviews

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Taako Taaco. 114. Elf. Wizard; Specialization in transmutation and inventive magical applications.

Previous experience: Top of class at Tredore, Academy of Magics and Technology; recently graduated.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of petty theft.

Davenport likes to think of himself as calm and composed. It’s hard to throw him off. He has to be in order to have gotten this far in his mission as fast as he has.

But when he turns around from shutting the door to see his interviewee with his feet kicked up on the table, twirling a wand through his fingers, he’s a little shocked. He’s been doing these interviews for two days now, and even the more relaxed and confident people have held a bit more sense for decorum.

It’s a bit rude.

It’s also a little interesting.

He sits at his desk, pulling the elf’s papers away from his boots (shiny, and though they look expensive he can see they’re worn down and well taken care of) and glances down. “Tell me, Taako Taaco, what makes you want to explore the planerverse?”

“Bored.”

If the feet on the desk threw him off for a second, that floors him entirely. “Bored?”

“I’ve got nothing else to do on this plane, why not, you know?”

“No burning desire to go further than any being has gone before?” That’s one of the normal responses, the well-planned out speeches he keeps getting in response to his opening question.

The elf crosses his feet, leaning back somehow further into the provided chair. Davenport worries for a second that he may fall as he continues on, “that’s cool too, I guess. But I figure, why wouldn’t you want the great Taaco name aboard your ship.”

Davenport picks up a pen from his table and makes a small note on the paperwork, “no offense, Mr. Taaco, but you’re rather cavalier about this interview that determines whether or not you’re accepted into a program that may redefine our understanding of the world.”

The elf shrugs and takes his feet off of Davenport’s desk, flashing him a smirk, “you’ve seen my sister’s paperwork, yeah? No way you’re not going to accept her, and we’re a package deal. Says it right there in bold at the top of my application, my man.” It does, in fact, say that at the top. Cursive words noting how he refuses to accept any position on the ship if his sister isn't there too. When reviewing who he was interviewing today, he saw similar words on Lup Taaco’s paperwork.

“You’re very confident in your sister’s abilities.” Davenport begins, pausing for a second as he notes the way the elf begins to tense up before continuing, “however, I wouldn’t sell yourself so short. You also graduated top of your class, and excelled in the art of transmutation multiple times. One of your letters of recommendation even noted how you made many spells easier to cast, somatically speaking.”

“What can I say, I’ll find any short cut I can.”

Davenport makes another note on his paper. “Now, I do need to ask about your record of petty theft.”

“Oh, natch.”

Lup Taaco. 114. Elf. Wizard; Specialization in evocation and applied magic regarding planar research.

Previous experience: Top of class at Tredore, Academy of Magics and Technology; recently graduated.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of petty theft.

“Lup Taaco, it is nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Captain.” The woman in front of him smiles. The resemblance to her brother couldn’t be more clear, and though her demeanor is quite similar, she at least doesn’t have her feet on his desk.

Not that his desk is anything fancy, but the point stands. “I’m not technically the captain yet, you know.”

“Potato, potato.”

Davenport is fairly certain that’s not how that phrase is used. “You did research into the planes at Tredore, correct?”

“Quite a bit, yeah. I’m sure my brother told you?”

The slight tilt of her head and lit of her voice tells Davenport this is some sort of test, which is confusing and a bit disconcerting, considering he is the one conducting the interview. He checks a quick box on his papers. “He talked you up a bit, yes. But this is your own interview, and I wanted to discuss your own knowledge with you, personally.”

She smiles, a touch more warmth to it than her previous attitude. “Oh, of course. Did quite a bit of studying at Tredore. First real school we attended. Kinda boring at times, you know?”

“If you’re accepted into this program, it’s going to be four intense months of studying and teaching you the more complex workings of the ship. Plus the two months of actually being on the ship.”

“That’s the fun stuff. Not a third semester in a row of another language I already figured out most of years ago.”

“How many languages do you speak, Ms. Taaco?”

“Including common, five languages.”

“Impressive.” Davenport himself only speaks three. “Now, I would like to ask you about your criminal record, if you don’t mind?”

Her smile grew sharp as she laughs.

Honestly, he isn’t surprised. Her explanation is the same as her brothers. Grew up on the road, needed food and other items on occasion. Didn’t always run fast enough. Davenport can’t fault them, and certainly won’t hold it against them.

He glances down at her paperwork, about to ask another question about her education, when she speaks up. “I’ve got a question for you, Captain.”

“Oh?”

“The ship- we’re really going with the name ‘The Starblaster’?”

Davenport sighs. He knew this question was coming, but he was expecting it to come during a press conference from a reporter, not a potential shipmate. “Yes. To be fair, it was a communal name we put to a vote from everyone who worked on building the engine.”

Ms. Taaco smiles. “Dope.”

Barry J. Bluejeans. 37 years old. Human. Wizard; specialization in applied magic regarding bonds and planar research.

Previous experience: Current assistant professor at Duffman University of the Arcane, part-time employee at the Institute of Planer Research and Exploration.

Criminal Record: Previous altercations regarding necromancy; no crimes against the nature of life and death ever committed.

Mr. Bluejeans is an interesting man. By the look of him, you’d expect to see him fumbling his way through a PTA meeting for his two kids. Instead, Davenport is staring down the word ‘necromancy’ on his paperwork on an application regarding literal planar travel on a ship called 'the Starblaster.'

So far, the interview has been going well. He’d listened to the man explain his research into the arcane, and he’d understood planar travel as well as any of the current scientists and engineers at the Institute. He was called in often for conferences and meetings about the bond engine. He’d seen the man walking around on occasion. They’d never been in a meeting together before, but he’d seemed nice.

But he also had a history of necromancy.

Now, Davenport doesn’t like to judge people. However, being in an enclosed space with someone who needed to specify he had never technically committed “crimes against the nature of humanity” isn’t the most comforting.

But, he was a smart man. Easy to get along with, too. So far. Necromancy notwithstanding.

Best to get it over with, “so, Mr. Bluejeans. I do need to ask about your criminal record-”

“Oh! Yeah, I never killed anyone. Or un- killed anyone. Uh, resurrected, I mean. Just did lots of studying into the application of necromancy and necromantic spells. Got in trouble because I toed the line of ‘research’ and ‘bringing my cat back to life,’ but got a stern talking to. Didn’t try it again, and don’t plan on needing to deal with those types of authorities again.”

Okay, normal enough answer, far as the situation applies-

“My current research into it has stayed purely theoretical, and it won’t interfere with the mission at all.”

So the man is still into necromancy.

Davenport glances down at the man’s file, thick with it’s attached papers Bluejeans has done on planar research. He’s not even stuck up about his level of education, and that’s extremely rare for the field.

Holding back a sigh, Davenport asks, “Can you explain the paper you wrote on the outer planes interactions with the inner planes for me?”

It was a really good paper.

But the man is still into necromancy.

Lucretia. 20. Human. Chronicler; Specialization in journalism.

Previous experience: Due to multiple NDA, she is unable to give us the exact number and titles of books she has written, but she sent letters of recommendation from Duke Rensburg, Lady Norabelle, and Warren of the Seatree Clan.

Criminal Record: Acquisition and attempted use of a false ID.

“So, Ms. Lucretia, I understand you cannot provide us with most examples of your works, but from what you have provided, you seem to be very, very good.”

“I like to think so, yes.” The young woman in front of him seems polite. She’s quiet; he saw her waiting outside with a few others before her interview, and while most of them were engaged in some awkward small talk, she sat away from them. Likely partially due to her age- she is much younger than the people outside- but she also simply seems quiet.

Which wouldn’t be the worst quality in someone you would be sharing a small, enclosed space with for an extended period of time. But, if she couldn’t bond with the others sufficiently, the bond engine won’t work.

(Hell, the bond engine was already finicky, they figured out the tech only a month ago, and they only have four months to bond an entire crew to pilot it and-)

“Can you explain to me why you acquired a fake ID and tried to use it at a, uh,” Davenport glances down at the records in front of him, holding back a chuckle, “at the forbidden section of the Library of Runar?”

Lucretia looks uncomfortable for a second, and he’s sure if the lighting in the room were better he would be able to see her flush with embarrassment. She gives him a hesitant smile, “I can’t get into the explicit details, but I was working on a book for an older client whose memory was becoming patchy, and I wanted to confirm some details before I put their name to it. They wouldn’t allow me into the section without the proper documents, but my client refused to agree that I should double check his work, even though I was almost certain he was wrong, so I simply… found a way to get past their guard. I wasn’t going to steal anything and I was going to use the proper equipment to read through the documents.”

Davenport smiles, “pursuit of knowledge and truth is important to you, then?”

“I don’t think spreading lies, especially in that context, is very honorable, no.” Her hands are folded in her lap now, and she seems a bit more relaxed.

Considering the others he is planning on accepting, he may be wrong about her getting along with them. Anyone willing to break the law just to prove an old man wrong would at least get along with him. Davenport refuses to have any pushovers aboard his ship.

Magnus Burnsides. 19. Fighter; Specialization in protection fighting and mechanical engineering.

Previous experience: Current bouncer at Apex Club. Currently enrolled in Gallier’s Fighter Academy and College.

Criminal Record: One count of assault and battery, appealed for defense of another person present. One count of indecent exposure and public intoxication.

Davenport will be the first to admit it can be tricky to follow human aging patterns, but he knows he’s not mistaken in thinking the man in front of him is barely out of “child” territory. Nineteen is a very, very small amount of time to be alive. Also, a very, very small amount of time to learn important things, like how to run what is basically a ship right out of a science fiction novel- complete with breakthrough technology.

Despite this, it’s hard to not find the young man in front of him to be endearing, and mostly knowledgeable in the things they need him to be.

“Magnus. You’re very young, one of the youngest applicants we have. What makes you think you’re qualified as the head of security of the ship?”

The young man in front of him- Gods, he really is young- grins and lifts his arms to flex, a show of pride and ego almost unbefitting of an interview setting, “Have you seen my muscles? I’m very strong, and a very good fighter.”

Many of today’s interviews have been quite different than he was expecting.

“I was referring more to job experience.”

“Oh!” Magnus shifts in his seat, fingers drumming against the table as he thinks. “I worked as a bouncer for a club while I was in college and did, if I must toot my own horn, a very good job. You should have a letter of recommendation from the owner-” He leans forwards, reaching a hand out as if to look through his own files to show him the letter.

“Yes, I did read through it. She was very thorough in stating how eager you were to help.” Davenport glances down at the papers in front of him, holding back a sigh. It truly was a glowing review of this young man. While his grades from the aforementioned college weren’t the highest, especially in classes one might consider important for an institute of planar research, the two letter of recommendations he submitted from teachers of his explained how Burnsides was very persistent when he wanted to learn something he didn’t know. He also had taken quite a few classes regarding vehicles- not enough to claim the young man was an expert but enough to provide a solid basis to show him how things worked and could be repaired on the ship.

The kid’s attitude was something of a breath of fresh air in this place. However, there was one glaring concern.

“I was also a bit concerned about the criminal record we have on file for you. Assault and battery as well as the indecent exposure and public-”

“In my defense for the second one, I was drunk with some friends and maybe thought it’d be funny to streak in the lake. Who hasn’t been to a party that gets a little out of hand.” He holds his hands out as if to say “am I right?”

Off the record, Davenport is inclined to agree that he was right. On the record, he is choosing to ignore it. “And the assault and battery? The file says it was in defense of a young person.”

Burnsides grins, “that’s how I got hired as the bouncer!”

He waits a moment, expecting Magnus to continue. When it seems the young man is assuming that is enough explanation, he prompts, “by beating up a man outside the club?”

“Yeah! He was harassing someone outside, and I was walking home and passed by. I told him to step off, and he didn’t. So I decked him, and he was out right away.”

It lined up with the records he had, and honestly, seeing someone so ready to step up to the defense of a stranger was a good quality. Better than some of the older applicants who were much more… formal in their training. He wonders briefly how Burnsides would react to an altercation against someone with magic.

Glancing down at his records, he guesses he would run headfirst without thinking.

Stifling a small grin, Davenport continues, “Now, tell me. Assume we’re up in space, and something goes wrong with the bond engine. What would your course of action be, Mr. Burnsides?”

Merle Hitower Highchurch. 214. Cleric; Specialization in botany, religion, and medical treatment.

Previous experience: Current botanist at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration. Professor of botany at Narvick’s University for four years.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of loitering.

The door is pushed all the way open before Davenport can even call out the next person.

A short dwarf slides into the room with a wide grin, “hey Dav!” A mug of tea is pressed into his hands.

“Hello, Merle. You do know this needs to be at least a little formal, yes?”

“Formal schmormal. Ask me your silly questions already, bud.” Merle Highchurch, resident botanist at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration, plops right down in the seat he’d taken to commandeering once a week, for the past three weeks.

Davenport had seen him around before, but a botanist in an institute designed for exploring other planes that had little capabilities to actually go to those places yet was rarely busy, and even more rarely called upon. He still barely knew the guy, but after the day they’d gotten stuck in the elevator for ten minutes when it broke down, the dwarf had come to his office for tea each Wednesday.

It was a bit strange, but the tea was good.

“Tell me about your work experience.”

Merle laughs heartily, “they barely have me do anything around here, ‘cept tend to the couple of plants they’ve grabbed from the ground plane.”

“It’s the Elemental Plane of Earth, and don’t sell yourself short, Merle. This is basically a job interview, you know.”

Merle slurps loudly at his own mug, “aren’t you planning on nepotism hiring me, because we’re buds?”

“That isn’t even what that word means, Merle.”

“Isn’t it?”

Davenport stares into the tea, “is this made from the Earth plant?”

“Maybe?”

Davenport. 276. Captain and navigator; Specialization in mechanical engineering and arcane components combined with contemporary technology.

Previous Experience: Crewmate on the Lady Blue for twenty years. Graduated from Grensville University. Current staff at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration.

Criminal Record: Unlawful resistance of orders from captain, raising of commotion on board ship while employed.

Davenport handed the six files over to Selune, “These are them.”

The halfling woman flips through them, eyebrows raising higher with each one she sees. “You’re sure you grabbed the right ones? A few of these I understand, but you do know we had the Issaiah Broler apply.”

He folds his hand in front of him, nodding. “I also know that during the interview he made me want to pour my tea on his lap. There’s no chance of getting the bond engine going with him. These are the six I picked. They’re all qualified- and the ones that are less educated in the specifics in the field I’m sure will pick up on the important information quickly. The Taaco twins already will give the bond engine a huge boost. Ms. Lucretia will ensure we have everything chronicled, something I’m sure you can appreciate, Selune. Mr. Bluejeans previous work shows he will thrive given the opportunities awaiting us. Mr. Highchurch is an educated man, and I trust him to keep the crew healthy and provide ample information on anything botany related we encounter, and I’m certain Mr. Burnsides will provide ample help in any task we show him how to do.” He sighs, glancing out the window of her office. There were a few people lingering outside in the courtyard of the Institute. “We have been given a tremendous opportunity to explore beyond what we can imagine, Selune. The last thing I want is to be bogged down by people stuck in their ways, who have been working in this field long enough to have their preconceived notions about what to expect and who will react badly when they’re proven wrong. I trust my own judgement in picking a crew, and I hope you trust my abilities to get these people ready to set sail in four months.”

What he doesn’t say is that he doesn’t want a bunch of stuffy jackasses on his ship. He’s not even sure picking all the over-qualified people would pass through the higher-ups' inspection of the crew. The people he picked were qualified enough to get a quick sign-off, but not too much. Anyone “overqualified” would probably get rejected. The ship had been built in basically six months. It’d get them off the ground, sure. It wasn’t going to explode on them once they got up there, but it wasn’t safe. There was a reason Davenport was the captain at all.

The six candidates in those files didn’t have a name for themselves as “important” to any stuffy scientific group or noble family. These people he picked were just that- people. A group of people who he believed deserved this opportunity. If anyone was getting the chance to make a name for themselves- to have the chance to redefine everything they know about the planar systems, he wanted to make sure they deserved the chance. A dangerous chance, sure. But what was science if not a little risky.

She sighs, opening the file on top. Her hand reaches for her pen, “Davenport, I got the final say on the name of the ship, I suppose the least I can do is give you final say on the crew.” She begins to write ‘approved’ at the top of the file, flipping through each one before giving him a pointed look. “But when I get angry calls about how you approved a bunch of nobodies and two people not even old enough to drink, I’m transferring them straight to your crystal.”

“And I will not be answering a single one.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Captain.”

#davenport #taako #lup #magnus burnsides #lucretia #barry bluejeans #merle highchurch #taz balance #the stolen century #my works

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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

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Book Drop Boy (Twice x Reader)

✧ pairing: library student worker!Twice x afab!student!Reader

✧ word count: 9.9k

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, maladaptive daydreaming (twice), twice is chaotic af, commits library related crimes, use of the term sweetheart a few times, smut, vaginal fingering/sex, doggy style, afab terms, no pronouns for reader, gratuitous swearing this is potentially the softest thing I've ever written, like she's pretty tame idk what Twice does to me

✧ summary: In which Twice learns that sometimes dreams do come true, except those dreams are just the maladaptive fantasies of a broke library receptionist and, while sexy, also involve more fraud than he expected.

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, this is set in the same universe as my shiggy college piece, but you don't need to have read that. There are some fun little easter eggs though if you have tho. This is like the most tame thing I've ever written and it's way longer than it was meant to be but oh well. Anyway, Twice deserves some love. Enjoy <3

Logically, Jin was aware you probably had no idea who the fuck he was.

But that really didn’t have any effect on the wildly intricate fantasy life he had created for the two of you during his long shifts behind the library reception desk. That, in fact, was the only reason he hadn’t up and quit just to save himself the embarrassment of another loud outburst in the middle of the most silent place on campus.

What was truly more shocking was the fact that none of those said outburst had gotten his ass kicked straight out the door.

But he held out.

If only for you.

Late nights or lazy afternoons you were always in the campus library—studying he assumed or…

'Studying,' because a lot of the time he noticed you’d show up with a drink from the cafe a few blocks down, set out a line of colored pens and not touch a single one of them for hours, content to stare blankly at the chipped desktop. And even that Jin was more than happy to watch.

He did a lot of watching.

Mostly because he wasn’t permitted to leave the desk unattended unless there were piling up returned books which needed to be replaced quickly.

So instead, he pretended to be busy scrolling through something on his old as hell monitor—which was conveniently set up directly across from the comfy chair/desk combo you always managed to grab—and he indulged in day dreams where you’d bring him a coffee from the cafe when you came in and set it on his desk, maybe kiss him on the cheek, maybe loiter by his workstation and play with his hair and—

Yeah.

It was a lot.

But you were always in that chair, always working or pretending to work and you never seemed to notice the uninterrupted hours of staring Jin did, so what was the harm?

If you never knew, you’d never get creeped out—cause it was creepy, he knew that, oh fuckin' boy did he know it was real goddamn weird.

He just couldn’t seem to give it up. Especially when the conditions presented perfectly for some good uninterrupted, totally not stalker-y at all, fantasizing.

Sometimes he thought you might have some mundane superpower that let you always snatch that perfect seat right across from his computer, and made it so the library was just cool enough that he’d get to watch you shrug on that cute extra sweatshirt you always brought. So he could catch a glimpse of some skin—in a totally normal and not invasive way—when your arms went over your head. So he could imagine it was his ratty old sweaters you were wearing just so you could smell him on you and god he really wanted to get close enough to smell you—was that too weird? No. Yes? No.

Not at all.

But the best part, the part that really convinced him on those awful days when he really just could not be bothered to drag himself out of bed and walk the couple blocks to campus just to sit in awful silence alone, in his head alone with the fucking thoughts that made him want to rip his hair out—

What made it worth it was those times every few weeks when your classes would get new assigned readings. Because then you’d have to check out new textbooks, since you were one of those geniuses that had figured out the library kept a ton of those books in stock. Of course you were, cause you were fucking perfect.

And when you had to check out new books, you had to come to reception.

Jin got to watch as your lovely figure moved through the stacks like you were ballroom dancing along the halls of faded, sea-green shelves, almost floating over the linoleum trying to find just the right volume in the right addition before anyone else beat you to it.

It was one of the most gorgeous things he’d ever seen.

Spinner would call him a fucking simp if he ever dared to uttered any of that out loud, but it didn’t matter.

If it was you, he’d simp for fucking life.

And then, you’d walk that fucking glorious ass over to his desk and plop the books down, smiling—cause you were polite like that, so fucking perfect he couldn’t hardly believe it sometimes—and asking how his day was while he checked you out in every sense of the phrase.

In a completely platonic and not freaky way.

So Jin kept coming to work, to that god awful job he really hated and which hated him just as vehemently. He clocked in every day and waited patiently like a fucking puppy counting the hours till its workaholic owner arrived home, ears perking up when you walked through the door and flashed your ID to the attendant.

If only for that.

He’d put up with his boss’ complaints and the weird stares he got when the thoughts just wouldn’t stay in his head anymore and he had to start talking to himself to fill the silence.

If only for that.

Those few hours when he could lose himself in the fake inner life where you were waiting for him when his shift let out, waiting to gather him, tired and understimulated, into your arms. Where you’d sneak into the back room with him just to chat and lace your fingers with his and maybe sit that fucking wonderful ass up on the tables so he could stand in between your thighs and you’d pull him down to—

Yeah.

That was enough.

***

It wasn’t until Tuesday when he had to come in again that week, and he already knew it was gonna suck balls.

Friday he’d gotten another round of complaints from some stuck up fucking business students—it was always the fucking business majors with those silver spoons so far up their asses—snitching to his boss that he’s been ‘disruptive’ and ‘disturbing’ during his last shift.

“Not my fucking fault,” he muttered under his breath, kicking a rock along the side walk he’d picked up two blocks before. “Yes it is. No it’s not!”

Jin groaned and tugged at his hair, wishing he’d brought a Tylenol or something to curb the headache that was already sticking it’s ugly ass claws into his temples. He really, really heavily contemplated just ditching, calling in sick or some shit. Technically he was a student worker, so they had to work with his DRS accommodation and he was actually having a bad fucking time.

But one of his friends had already texted to ask if he’d try and reserve them that sweet ass study room on the third floor and Jin wasn’t really looking to disappoint anyone else this week. Besides, it was fun to abuse his minuscule power. Fun to go corrupt for once. Fight the system and all that.

He liked to think you’d be proud of him for it, based on the kinds of texts you checked out at least.

So, he dragged his sad ass back to the looming library looking far too much like a prison than was necessary and clocked in. Actually, the first thing he did was check the chair—your chair and nobody else’s chair, he might actually make a fucking scene if somebody ever did steal it—and his face visibly fell when you were not occupying it.

It was a bit early, Jin supposed as he paused briefly when he noticed the can of Monster and rando vending machine chips sitting next to it by the reception computer. The sticky note slapped to the top read 'For your troubles' in familiar handwriting and that pulled a bit of a smile from him as he quickly rearranged the scheduling of study room sign ups so the fancy third floor room would be free for the rest of the night.

Then Jin sat, staring at the study room schedules for a moment, feeling his eyes softly glaze over until a hand slapped down on the raised lip of the reception desk.

“Hey bro,” Spinner greeted him with a wild smile and a flurry of bright pink hair.

Jin had to blink a few extra times to get his vision to clear. When it did he saw, horrifyingly, that he’d been staring at the fucking blank screen for two hours without moving.

Why was it that his head was either deadly quiet, devoid of even a single errant thought or so loud as fucking shit at all times that he couldn’t physically keep the thoughts in?

“Hey, dude, what’s up?” Jin asked, running a hand through his unruly hair.

“Aren’t you supposed to like shush me or something?”

Spinner chuckled a bit at his own god awful joke and Jin couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed, too glad for the company.

“I mean,” he shrugged, popping the can of Monster and ignoring the dirty looks he got for the sound. “I would if I was, uh, good at my job.”

“Which I’ve heard you definitely are not,” Spinner wrapped his fingers over the lip of the desk and leaned back on his heels, swaying side to side idly.

“You’re just figuring that out now?”

Jin didn’t bother watching while Spinner nearly tripped over himself fidgeting as he spun to stand at the little gate that corralled Jin inside like livestock. He was too busy glancing over to check you hadn’t slipped in while his brain had taken a trip to the astral plane without him.

“No, I been knew, but my sources tell me you’ve gone off the rails my friend,” long legs stepped over the wooden partition until the only friend he had who was quite possibly more annoying than Jin himself was sat on the counter next to his computer. “Finally been radicalized have you?”

Jin huffed and sipped his Monster, “Guess it fuckin’ took me long enough.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Spinner was messing about with the stacks of multicolored sticky notes littered across the desk before glancing up to wink at Jin. “So what can I get you to do for me in exchange for free food?”

“Now I really am gonna fucking shush you,” Jin smashed his finger against Spinners grin only to get a hand covered in spit for his trouble.

“Right, right,” Spinner held his hands up in defeat, “can’t have you cheating on your sweetheart.”

“Not my—yes I’m in a committed fictional relationship thank you very much—ugh!”

Jin could feel the heads shooting up from laptop screens and textbooks to stick daggers in his back with their angry stares. Spinner at least had the good sense to look a little fucking guilty for egging him on.

“Sorry bro, I had to shoot my shot ya know?” a hand disappeared into the mop of bubblegum locks in apology.

“It’s fine…” Jin trailed off, mumbling and blushing more than a little profusely as he turned to check the book drop box. “Not like I’m ever gonna fuckin’ shoot mine anyway.”

“Oh we are not gonna have that kinda of shit discussion,” Spinner’s hand shot out and grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, spinning Jin in his chair. “On god bro, we’re gonna get you a date one of these days.”

Jin didn’t dignify that kind of lie with a response.

Spinner once again, had the good sense to not push the envelope any farther.

“And in the meantime, you can come to the League meeting tonight!”

“Your gaming club thing?”

“Yeah, it’s Smash night and we need to fill a space sooooo…”

Jin knew Spinner and his roommate—the same friend who he’d gone study room rogue for—had started a gaming club their freshman year. Spinner had been trying to strong arm him into attending ever since. To, as he put it, ‘socialize,’ and ‘make new friends.’ All things which Jin was patently horrible at and avoided like the plague.

Needless to say, he’d refused every time.

It wasn’t just the whole being alone with like two people he kinda knew in a room full of strangers. Games themselves were just a lot for him. The flashing colors and the loud noises made his head—which was already so fucking full all the time and he really needed to keep any extra scrap of space for extra random facts he picked up about you and your future married life together—get a bit misaligned.

They just weren’t his jam most of the time.

“I’m good, thanks for the offer though,” Jin twisted out of Spinner’s grasp and craned his head to check your seat again.

Still empty.

He sighed.

Spinner continued to ramble and Jin continued to only half listen. It wasn’t as pleasant to day dream when you weren’t there for the added visual aesthetic. And he was trying to not be a dick and ignore the one friend he had managed to keep around over the years. But it was hard when his mind had a mind of its own.

Wow.

Meta.

“Jin?”

The voice—deep and dark in such a dramatically ominous way it might have been funny if it didn’t belong to his permanently disgruntled supervisor—interrupted his already derailing train of thought.

“Oh, uh, hello sir,” Jin stuttered, turning to find Kurogiri leaning against the reception desk with one arm, turning only slightly to accommodate Spinner’s form bolting over the gate and out the library doors.

He did manage to throw a fading, “See ya later, bro” over his shoulder before he disappeared around the corner.

Yeah thanks for the warning, bro.

“Aren’t you supposed to be reshelving the books from the drop box?” Kurogiri sighed, perpetually disappointed in a way that had Jin’s face burning and shame bubbling up in his throat.

He hated this job. He was objectively terrible at it, and so usually he wouldn’t give that much of a shit at not doing it well. Kurogiri just had some type of vibe—like daddy but not in the sexy way Spinner always joked about—that made it really, really upsetting to let him down.

Father figure? Yeah that's what it was called.

“Right, yeah um, sorry,” Jin nodded quickly and leapt from his chair, only mildly bruising his knee on the desk as he reached to empty the book drop.

Another incorporeal sigh was the only acknowledgement he received as he loaded the cart with wheels louder than Jin on a particularly bad day and rolled the pile of books back to the stacks. He paused once more, just before the sea green shelving units swallowed him up, to sneak another futile peak at your chair. But it still sat empty—empty and lonely with no you and cold without your body pressed against the worn upholstery.

Jin felt a chill too, a slow tingling thing that worked its way up from the base of his spine. It drove him deeper into the walls of books, away from the empty spaces.

It was harder to look.

Harder to be reminded of what he did not have.

Of what he’d never have cause he was too much of a goddamn pussy to ever just fucking talk to you—

But then what if he did? What if he did talk to you? What would happen then?

Those were the types of questions he tried to avoid when crafting your intricate, fictional lives together. Precisely because they were the easiest to answer.

You’d realize within the first five minutes or so of conversation—if Jin could even make it that far without embarrassing himself—that he was just a generic brand weirdo that all your pretty, normal, aesthetically pleasing friends would warn you to stay away from and because you were also pretty and normal and not a fucking idiot, you’d have the common sense to listen.

He’d lose you in the blink of an eye.

Your chair would sit cold and empty forever and the imaginary garden he’d been planting for you to come imaginarily home too would wilt and die like all the other happy thoughts in his head.

It was quite the conundrum and one Jin was not keen to solve soon.

Not that things ever really went his way. Cause problems could only be avoided for so long before all that time spent ignoring them came back to bite him full on the ass.

Which, apparently, came this time in the form of what had to be quiet, muffled sobbing drifting in between the shelves from the back hallway.

It was dark here in this section of the building—free of most windows so as not to cause any sunning damage to the books—and Jin had seen more than enough horror movies to know that it was a horrendous idea to follow the ominous crying sounds coming from the bowls of this old as fuck building. But even as he made up his mind to ignore it, the hand currently working one of the returns back into its proper place dropped the book to his cart as his feet slowly turned to face the corridor.

He looked around skeptically for a second, not entirely certain his poor brain hadn’t simply malfunctioned again, as it was wont to do, and fabricated the sound entirely. But as he peaked out from between the stacks, and down the dimly lit hall, he heard it again.

Echoey and soft in the wide, empty space it—was definitely coming from the hall and it was definitely a person.

Jin caught himself moving without ever meaning too, the books laying forgotten as he crept towards the source of the noise and paused just before leaving the stacks entirely. This hall was full of small alcoves built into the centuries old walls and led to the lesser used storage portions of the library that only the janitorial staff and the university librarians ever entered. He really didn’t want to stumble across someone from the special collections department bawling over a damaged or lost manuscript.

But his wayward feet pushed him forward, too sympathetic for his own good. He found himself shuffling down the abandoned hall, peering into each small dip in the walls to find the source of his distraction.

And when he did, Jin was—for once in his life—thankful for his lack of self-preservation instincts.

And cursed his blatant lack in interpersonal skills.

Because it was you.

You curled with your knees to your chest and your head in your hands, shoulders shaking, as you cried into your palms.

The universe had handed him maybe the only golden opportunity he would ever get on right on a platter.

But Jin didn’t have a fucking clue what do with it.

And there certainly wasn’t much time to formulate a game plan as his nervous breathing and sudden intake of breath upon discovering his imaginary lover sniffling right in front of him, had certainly alerted you to his presence.

Your head shot up in an instant, knocking dully against the stone wall with a thud.

“Shit,” you cursed and hands flying up to cover the area as Jin jumped on the spot at your outburst.

“Are you okay?” he asked lamely as you glanced over at him, eyes red and wet and so fucking sad oh fucking god, widening as you realized you’d been caught.

“Huh? Ye—oh uh, yes,” your words came out jumbled, legs unfolding quickly to push yourself off the bench and hands wiping furiously at your eyes. “I’m fine, sorry.”

“You sure about that?”

Jin cringed visibly and frowned at the way you deflated under his stare. God the first fucking time he actually talks to you and he already made an ass of himself.

Spinner’s roommate was such a liar, it really fucking sucked to be right sometimes.

“I mean,” you crumpled back down onto the ledge and Jin took a careful step closer, “no, but yes. Like I’m definitely having a breakdown in the back of the fucking library but I don’t wanna, uh, bother you with that. So, yeah I’m good.”

“You can bother me,” he replied way too fucking quickly.

But he couldn’t really be embarrassed about it. Your voice was just so captivating, and you weren’t talking to him in that raised pitch anymore like you usually did—the way everyone does when they’re trying to be surface level and polite. No this was your voice how you sounded when you were relaxing with your friends or making breakfast in the morning or talking to yourself in the shower (he liked to think you did that, or sang maybe as you worked the soap into your skin, one of the two but he always imagined you filled silences with how fucking pretty you were).

“No, really. That would be weird, right?”

Jin grimaced as you fixed him with a watery yet suspicious stare.

Yeah it was weird.

Everything he did concerning you was weird, objectively. He was definitely being over-familiar and too eager, especially considering you didn’t fucking know him.

But he knew you.

Jin felt like he’d known you for all months he’d spent pretending to be by your side.

And you were crying and he had to do something.

“I mean, yeah I guess,” he mumbled, taking a risk and plopped down on the opposite end of the alcove and resting his head on the wall. “But not any weirder than having a breakdown in the employees only section of the library building on a Tuesday.”

You kept staring blankly for a few moments before the most miraculous thing happened.

Jin had to physically stop his jaw from hitting the floor when the quiet giggle bubbled up from your chest and spilled out into the hall, warm enough to melt even the freezing linoleum floor.

“Yeah, you’ve got a point,” your voice cracked a bit as a few more tears slid like pearls down your cheeks.

“My name’s Jin,” he said, shocked stupid both by your laugh and the apparent success of his comforting methods.

“Oh, hi, well I guess I don’t have to call you book drop boy anymore,” you rubbed at your face again and tucked your legs back into your chest, though it looked a bit more relaxed this time.

Not so trying-desperately-to-fade-out-of-existence.

“You called me that?” Jin asked, brain still functioning at half capacity, only shocked at the fact that he existed as a concept in your head enough to have a name and realizing a bit too late how accusatory he must have sounded. “Shit, I mean it’s totally fine I just didn’t think you, uh, well I mean, like, knew about me I guess?”

You finally smiled and his brain power cut out another fourth at being personally graced by the expression this close up.

“Yeah, you always check me out—fuck sorry not that you check me out, just you scan my books and I just called you ‘book drop boy’ in my head cause I never got a chance to ask for your name but I have it now so that’s cool….”

Your head dropped back down to your knees as you groaned and Jin suddenly felt a lot less nervous than he had a few seconds ago.

You were weird too.

For so long you’d existed on this pedestal thousands of feet in the air, and now you were stepping down from the heavens and onto earth. Not in a bad way! Just, Jin had never really stopped to think that you might be a person too.

Well.

No, he knew you were a person, just he never thought you might get flustered and ramble and be nervous in front of him.

Cause he was a fucking train wreck—the bar was so goddamn low.

It was almost as comforting as your smile.

“Oh, yeah sorry I’m not the best at customer service if you couldn’t tell,” he sighed and ran a hand through his wild hair.

You looked back up with a wry grin, “I don’t know, I’d say you’re going above and beyond right now.”

And you were funny.

He was gonna fucking combust.

“Ha, yeah, I try,” he trailed off for a moment before glancing back at your curled in your corner, fuck he could just imagine sitting behind you, your head on his chest while you—”So uh, did you wanna talk about it or…?”

“Uh, yeah,” you picked idly at the grouting of the stone and mumbled, “I guess it’s not so weird if we’re on a first-name basis.

And that was how Jin discovered that you’d been hiding in the back of the library bawling your eyes out for hours—since even before his shift started. Apparently you’d gotten here extra early, even skipped a class, to snag some super specific required text for your final thesis and right before you got to the shelf some jackass swooped in, effectively hit and running with the only copy of that book on campus.

The book in questions was one of the newer additions that had special added footnotes you needed for your paper and was a whopping 500 fucking dollars to rent from every other place online. You couldn’t afford it, and honestly what fucking student could? But you needed it to complete the paper or you’d fail and Jin very much understood the need for a good breakdown after a catastrophe like that.

“Damn, that’s uh, fucking awful,” he frowned on your behalf as your head hit the wall a second time in frustration.

“Yeah so, I’m like royally fucked either way. Now I just gotta decide which hole I’m taking it in I guess,” you groaned.

Jin’s eyebrows raised at your choice of words but they were apt, he supposed. People really do get comfortable with each other pretty quick when bonding over shared institutional rage.

“Well,” he began, wringing his hands nervously at what he was about to suggest. “You might be in luck cause I’ve recently decided to abuse my library powers for good and I maybe, possibly, could try and see if there’s some strings I can pull?”

You perked up a bit, looking at him incredulously.

Jin felt comfortably full under your stare.

“Seriously?”

The word was soft and it bounced off the walls just as much as it did the inside of his skull.

Swapping study rooms to help a friend out was one thing. But falsifying checkout dates for someone he barely knew—had essentially married in his maladaptive fantasies—could get him fired.

He hated this job but he needed it.

Were you worth the risk?

Of course, he found himself thinking without hesitation.

You were everything.

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, any lingering uncertainty washing away at the way you looked at him through your lashes. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”

“Are you always this nice?”

Jin didn’t answer right away. He was too caught up in how you’d leaned forward on your hands across the bench, peering like he was some exotic animal or a stray cat in the parking lot—all soft wonderment with fingers curling like they ached to grab hold and rescue him from this parchment scented monotony.

“Not always…”

“Should I feel special then?”

If his face wasn’t red before, it was now. Red and blistering under the summer campfire heat that radiated off you—woodsy and warm and so painfully familiar like an old friend’s hand.

“...I guess you—fucking definitely, ” he quite nearly shouted the last bit, startled by his own volume and already mortified at the outburst but then you chuckled again from beside him.

He turned to see you standing and offering a hand which he gladly too if only to feel the weight of your palm against his.

“Well, you’ll have to let me pay you back then.”

“Oh, no you don’t actually—”

You held a hand up and the words turned to ash on his tongue in an instant, mouth glued shut by your gesture.

“Coffee on me or something, there’s a nice cafe a few blocks from here,” you dropped your hand and your eyes were clear now, no sign of the previous afternoon sobbing alone in the hallway. Jin felt a surge in his chest knowing he was the one who did that. “You gotta pass off the contraband anyway, and I don’t think it would be that great of an idea to do it here.”

God you were fucking perfect.

“Can’t argue with that.”

***

Jin was sweating profusely as he snuck past the library attendant, totally inconspicuous and not not all looking like he was doing a single thing wrong in the slightest.

Yeah they definitely didn’t suspect a thing.

The process of fraud was actually a lot less complicated of an undertaking that Jin had expected. All he had to do was search up the book, find the student that had stolen the success of his sweetheart’s educational career and flag his account. They’d get an automated message about the flag, instructing them to return any borrowed items or they’d be forced to pay fines while the account was examined.

Technically he needed administrator credentials to report student accounts, but luckily Kurogiri had his login info written on a sticky note hidden on the back of the monitor. All in all it was a pretty easy job.

The whole thing had taken only a matter of days, in which time you had returned to the library only twice—the first to get confirmation on the success of Jin’s newest descent into low level crime which had set his heart thundering in his chest as you bent conspiratorially over his desk, your face just inches from his.

The second time, Jin had horrifically been absent from his desk, however he was met with possibly the most wonderful sight of his life upon returning from the labyrinth of shelves.

On one of the hundreds of post-it note pads that littered the library reception area, there were scribbles that he was sure hadn’t been there before. He almost tossed it, but upon closer inspection, you’d written your number there and signed just below it. In the cutest fucking handwriting he’d ever seen—cute not for any stylistic reason, but it simply felt that way just by virtue of it being yours—was written the digits and “-for book drop boy”

The noise he made reading that turned more than a dozen heads and almost got him fired there on the spot before any of his indiscretions were even discovered, but he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

So, nerve wrackingly, Jin texted you as he nearly sprinted home from his shift after that piece of shit asshole who made you cry had trudged angrily in and dropped off his ‘stolen’ book.

— HEY IT’S JIN!

— from the library

— shit sorry that wasn’t meant to be in caps

— n e way….

— I’ve intercepted the ~package~ so whenever you’re ready for the hand off, I’m good

Most perfect fucking human being to…

Oh my god thank you so much!!!—

Is tomorrow at like 5ish good for you?—

Also send me your order—

so we don’t have to do that awkward waiting in line for drinks bit—

Holy fuck you multi-texted too! Spinner would roll over in his fucking grave, he hated when Jin did that. But there was always so much to say and he could never think of it all at the same time. Plus, you wanted to save him from that god awful silence where you both stand in line next but he can’t talk cause he has keep repeating his order in his head over and over or he’ll blank when he gets to the register so it’s just this painful weird glancing back and forth—

Ugh, maybe all the shit about manifestation that girl who always loaned him exacto knives in his sculpting class always talked about was real.

Cause there was no way you weren’t just heaven-sent, handcrafted especially for him and all his general brand of weird.

The hours which usually flew by without Jin’s notice dragged all that night. He was so full of excess energy that made his hand shake and his thoughts race, not sure what to do with themselves now that they didn’t need to fantasize about you.

He decided to use all that extra motivation to vacuum the kitchen at 4:30 in the morning, much to his roommates' chagrin. She liked to get a nice solid eight hours every night and constantly reminded Jin of this, trying to sell him on that sleepy time tea before bed, though he really hated the smell of camomile.

Magne may lose out on some of her beauty sleep—not that she needed it and Jin would tell her that constantly, even if he did have some patently horrible judgment most of the time so he wasn’t really the best at offering reassurance—but the kitchen would be clean when she woke up so win-win really.

When she did wake up—wandering out of her room looking effortlessly put together in a way Jin could never hope to emulate—she sat at the table, sipping her tea and appraising him worriedly.

Jin was still in his jeans from the day before, hair spiking in every direction but down, and chewing his nails nervously despite losing most of them to the hour or two of early morning floor scrubbing.

“Babe,” she shook her head slowly, “take a breath.”

“Yeah okay,” he sighed and inhaled deeply, letting himself slide off the couch cushions and to the newly sparkling floors on the exhale.

“There, now wanna share what the hell is going on?”

He glanced up at her from the hardwood and groaned as she looked back down, brows furrowed over her glasses.

“Huhh, okay. So that absolute work of art from the library is meeting me for coffee later cause I have trade over this book I sort of stole, it’s a long story, and I don’t know if it’s a date—it sounds like a date, cause that’s where people go for dates and shit—but it might just be to pay me back for stealing the book. And if it is I’ve only ever been on that one date before which was with fucking Spinner like two years ago so—”

Magne held up a hand to quiet Jin before the speed of his words tied his tongue in physical knots. She looked contemplative, taking another soft sip of tea and nodding her head for a moment getting up to crouch on the floor by his head.

“You think too much for your own good, but never about the right things,” she mumbled, smoothing some of the hair from his face. “Does it really matter if this is a date or not?”

Jin blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she chuckled in that way people do when kids ask them obvious questions—kindly, appreciative of the curiosity, “either way you cut it, you’ll be spending time with this person you like, yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed and sat up to face her as she stood.

“A date is just hanging out with a special name anyway,” Magne’s hands were firm but gentle as she hoisted Jin off the floor and onto his feet. “You’ll be fine.”

His shoulders slumped both in mild relief and dejection that he’d waisted so much precious time he could have been preparing possible topics of conversation or strategies to ask you out for real date on worrying over how this first time would go.

How did Magne always fucking know all this stuff?

Other people were such a mystery to him.

To be fair, though, Jin was a mystery to himself most of the time as well.

“Thanks, sorry for not saying anything about it earlier,” he sniffed as she smiled and pinched his cheek way fucking harder than necessary.

“It’s alright, I’m only a little insulted you waited until now to tell me about this massive crush you’ve developed.”

“Yeah it’s got its own gravitational pull at this point.”

Magne laughed at that and Jin felt the room lighten.

“I do expect details when you get back though,” she said pointedly, finishing her tea wandering back to her room to grab her bag. “Spinner asked me, very begrudgingly might I add, to fill in at another of his club tournament things tonight so I’ll be out late.”

“Really? I didn’t think you liked that stuff.”

Jin shuffled over to her doorway and peaked into the neat little space. Magne was rummaging through the meticulously organized closet and frowning as she answered.

“I do, Spinner just doesn’t agree with my battle strategies,” she huffed. “My alignment is far too ‘chaotic’ and ‘recklessly violent’ for his tastes apparently.”

“Oh, yeah that makes sense,” Jin laughed this time just envisioning the two of them stuck on a team. “Well have fun with that.”

“Yeah well,” she brushed by him into the hall, keys jangling as she went and calling over her shoulder. “Text me how it goes, and wear that new button up you got last week, it looks good on you!”

***

Much to Jin’s surprise and delight, Magne was right.

He was fine.

Fine was a bit subjective—as he was most certainly still highkey panicking on main as he got out of his last class and walked the short few blocks to the cafe on campus—but regardless he was perfectly okay.

Of course that all went right out the fucking window in the split second between him walking in and you already staring at the door as he entered. Your eyes widened just a bit and this smile broke out slowly across your cheeks when you waved him over and it was like suddenly every single creepy as hell day dream had just become reality.

It was a little overwhelming to say the least.

His heart may have actually stopped in his chest for a bit and he did contemplate the possibility that Kurogiri might have actually discovered his little plot, murdered him in cold blood and stuffed his body in the records room. This might all just be the afterlife, but that would mean that Jin had gone to some kind of heaven which didn’t really add up with his current tract record.

But it was fine.

Because you were really fucking easy to talk to.

Like, really fucking easy.

It was sorta strange actually, how you seemed to know all this shit he was into before he even really mentioned it.

After you traded off the goods, you both sat in the big comfy couches upstairs in the loft and you listened to him info dump, inevitably getting lost down innumerable unrelated tangents. You managed to keep up well enough though and not question the winding conversation.

“Damn,” he said, sipping at the last dregs left behind in his cup. “How do you know about all this stuff?”

“Uh,” you paused then, looking maybe just a bit sheepishly into your own drink. “I may or may not have spent a considerable amount of time eavesdropping into your conversations while you’re on shift.”

He saw flashes at that moment—dial up sounds going off between his ears.

Jin.exe has stopped working.

“...What?”

You grimaced and hid your face in your hands for a moment, “I know it sounds really creepy, my friends just sorta made a, um, game out of it? They tease me a lot about going to study at the library just cause of the cute guy that works there, so we all kinda stalk you a little bit just—wow this is sounding exponentially worse and worse every second.”

He gaped a bit despite himself as you cringed visibly and Jin tried to discreetly pinch his thigh to make sure this really wasn’t some sort of cruel, cruel fever dream.

“You think I’m cute…?”

He blinked once and your eyes shot up to meet his, a pained, half smile caught between your teeth. “I mean, yeah. I kinda thought I was being a bit obvious, sorry.”

“What no, holy fuck,” he spluttered, face on fire and legs bouncing restlessly against the couch across from you. “Don’t apologize, I have a, uh, staring habit too I guess.”

“I know,” you rubbed at the back of your neck and Jin didn’t think it was possible for you to be anymore endearing. “I’ve noticed, that’s like the whole reason I insisted on buying you a drink.”

“So wait is this a date?”

Jin wished almost immediately that he hadn’t asked, because Magne was right, it super didn’t matter but fucking shit on a stick he really wanted it to be a date!!!!

“Yeah,” you nodded. “If you’d like that.”

“Yes!—ah, I mean, uh yeah mhm,” Jin choked on his spit with enthusiasm, but it did earn him a concerned shoulder pat so he’d take the win.

It also afforded him the opportunity to walk you home after hours chatting until the streets were lit by burnt orange lamps and the cafe was closing. You didn’t live all that far from him actually and when you stopped to point out your door, the two of you were overcome by that telltale, charged silence.

Filled with potential.

Like a gas stove waiting for a spark to go up in flames.

It was you that struck the match.

“So, um, I promise I don’t just, uh, do this with everyone but, do you wanna maybe come inside,” you let your hand trail down his arm and slip into his palm, “I don’t feel like you’ve been properly compensated for saving my ass.”

Jin’s mouth was watering at the thought. He nodded slowly, eyes like saucers as you pulled him up your steps and through the door which shut promptly behind him.

Your place was nice in the sense that it fit you. He wasn’t really paying all that much attention to his surroundings as you locked the door and squeezed his hand in yours, leading him towards the end of the entrance hall.

When he stepped through to your bedroom, you toed off your shoes and he did the same, staring nervously and waiting for you to show him what exactly you meant by ‘further compensation.’

It was exactly what he’d hoped.

You approached him, still in the doorway, and stepped close so your chests brushed together. It was soft, the way you looked at him, sort of fuzzy around the edges while your hands trailed down his arms to place his palms at your waist.

It wasn’t like Jin hadn’t done this before—he totally had and definitely remembered all of it and wasn’t shit faced at all nope—but it hadn’t really mattered before. He knew in theory that he should take the lead, be a gentleman and make the first move and holy fucking god he was dying over there with the desire to finally live out his months and months of fantasies

But what if he did it wrong?

What if he ruined it now when he was so close to the finish line?

He’d never fucking forgive himself for it, and he could goddamn hear Magne in his head.

“You think too much for your own good.”

And he did, and he was right now, cause the room was only dimly lit by the street light streaming in through the window and you were reaching out to loop your arms behind his neck.

Should he lean down now?

Tilt left or right?

What if he clacked your teeth together?

What if—

Your lips were soft and hot against his, rubbing at the stubble on his chin before pressing close in that precious, puzzle-piece way human bodies fit together. He didn’t do much thinking after that.

His hands were too busy digging into the flesh of your hips separated by way to many fucking layers of fabric, and he couldn’t quite stop himself from indulging just a bit. Jin sucked gently at your lower lip, knees going weak at the glorious fucking sound you made in the back of your throat as he licked over the taught skin and tugged it between his teeth.

He could feel you smiling into his mouth, sharing breath and raking your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. Jin groaned and you—fucking cheeky little bastard—slipped your tongue right past his lips and licked at the back of his fucking teeth like a popsicle in July.

Your hands in his hair hard tugged and his breath was coming faster, lips gliding against yours as the room turned to steam around him.

Through the haze he clung to the few remaining seconds of clarity.

Jin pulled away for one painful second to mumble against your lips.“You meant have sex, right?”

“Yeah,” your voice was barely more than a whisper, but you nodded frantically and rolled your hips against his.

“Ohh fuck, ‘kay good, thank god.”

For once Jin had nothing more to add.

And you weren't exactly willing to give him back his tongue long enough for any interruptions anyway.

***

“Holy fucking shit, look at you,” Jin gasped into your ear.

Both of your clothes had been discarded long ago, and he had your bare back to his chest while he sat propped against the headboard with your legs hooked on either side of his knees. It didn’t afford him the best view, but he got your head resting on his shoulder and pretty moans spilling right into his ear.

He didn’t need to see your pussy anyway.

The slick pouring out of your pretty fucking hole and coating his fingers as he pumped two of them into you was more than enough. His other hand wandered in the lovely expanse of space between your chest and your waist, running softly over the skin and pausing to pinch and roll your nipples just to hear you whine.

His cock was so fucking hard, trapped between your ass and his stomach, twitching every time you thrust your hips to meet the movement of his wrist.

“Jin, fuck please-”

You used his name every time you begged him for more and it was really going to his head.

“You’re so goddamn perfect, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he groaned and sunk his fingers deeper into your soaking cunt while his mouth dropped to your neck and sucked hard to mark you lovely skin.

He licked at the indents of his teeth, tasting your sweat on his tongue that tangled with yours again as your hand reached for his cheek and pulled him in. It was less of a kiss and more of a sloppy forming of your mouths that left you connected by a silvery string of spit that flashed in the low light. Jin sighed at the sight, rutting his hips against the cleft of your ass.

Your thighs twitched where they were spread and your hips lifted off the mattress to meet the languid thrusts of his fingers that curled up on every push in to hear the hitch in your breath.

He took pity on you and brought his other hand down to rub circles on your clit, listening for the telltale whimpers and the way your nails dug into his arm to find the perfect rhythm.

“I don’t really—mm, there fuck—feel like I’m paying you back right now,” you mumbled nipping your own trail of stepping stone bruises onto his throat as he picked up the pace and held steady on that sweet bundle of nerves.

“Are you fucking serious?”

He didn’t really mean to full on growl at you then, but just the thought that you’d really believe he wasn’t about to fucking drown in ecstasy just from watching you get off—just from touching, speaking, being in anyway acknowledged by you at all. Jin nudged your head to the side and bit down harshly into the crook of your neck, shuddering as you moaned and arched against his chest.

In any other scenario, he could never really find the right balance between too many words and not enough. The sheer volume of thoughts and interjections that raced like cars reaching the end of rush hour traffic made the formulation of any coherent conversation impossible, but now—

Now with your body so pliant in his hands, so willing and sweet and wanting him.

Wanting him.

What a concept.

He needed you to understand, to know how fucking over the moon, sunshine bright you had him burning.

And for once, he finally had the words to do it.

After all, he’d had months to prepare.

It was surprisingly easy to change your positions, to pull away from you for just a moment so he could roll and cage you on your hands and knees under him, ass in the air nestled against his cock.

“You really don’t think I’m getting anything out of this?” he groaned into you ear, rocking his length against you both for emphasis and because it felt so fucking good.

“Ah, well ya know,” your voice was so wrecked he was desperate to find out how much it would take for you to lose it entirely. “When you put it like that—mmh—I just feel bad you’re doing all the work. ”

You had this cheeky fucking grin on your face when you rocked forward so back so his cock slipped down to your dripping lips. The heat of your cunt was mesmerizing and it took a fuck ton of self control Jin was unaware he possessed to not ram straight into you right then.

“Yeah cause I’ve wanted to for fucking months goddamn it’s driving me insane.”

“What?”

Now that he’d started, Jin couldn’t find it in himself to stop. His hands dug hard into your hips, rocking so the tip of his dick caught your clit and you shivered below him, hot skin sliding with the motion of your bodies.

“It’s all I think about whenever I see you,” he was shaking when his hand reached down to grip himself, spreading your folds and soaking his length in your slick. “When you come in to work I just fucking lose myself thinking about how bad I want you to be mine, my pretty fucking thing to bring me coffee while I work and let me fuck you in the backroom.”

You whimpered under him, face pressed into the mattress as he draped himself over you, chest to back with his breath ghosting over your ear.

“Literal hours I just sit there at that awful fucking job and I only keep coming cause of you, cause I can watch you sit all cute in your chair and watch the way your cheeks squish up when you put your face in your hands and imagine they’re my hands and I’m about to spit in your fucking mouth so you remember who you belong too.”

“I—” you were nearly choking on the drool that soaked through your sheets as Jin lined himself up with your pretty little hole, pressing just the tip into your heat. “I didn’t think you ever—nggh, shit—noticed much about me.”

The corners of his eyes burned as sweat dripped down his forehead, he had to hold back a sob as he sheathed another inch into those perfect walls.

“Notice you? You’re all I fucking think about,” he pressed his lips softly against your shoulder, hands running from your chest to your sides as you took his cock and every word that slipped from his lips without complaint. “I could take such good care of you. I just fucking know it, just please, let me take care of you?”

“Fuck Jin,” your voice was closer to a sob than anything else but he needs you screaming. “You don’t really have to convince me—”

His patience had run out long ago, not even willing to let you finish before he’d sunk in to the hilt, spearing you on his cock with one final thrust. You ass was flush with his hips and his balls hung heavy and tight against the back of your thighs. The strangled little cry that worked its way out of your throat had gooseflesh erupting across his arms where he held you to him.

Jin couldn’t really be sure—it wasn’t like his brain was all that functional on a day to day basis and it most certainly was not now—but your walls clenching around him and that addictive warm, wet feeling milking his cock was on a whole other level than any fuck he’d ever had before.

There was something about the curve of your back against his chest, and the way you seemed to suck him in, drawing his length back in just seconds after he’d pulled out. Some about the feeling of your chest in his hands, of the sweat on your skin that he licked off in a long strip up your spine. Like you really were made for him. As though all those months spent in dream land, concocting your pretend lives together had spilled over into reality, molding you into the perfect shape to take him deep and hard and cry while you came on his cock just like he knew you were meant to.

“Oh, fuck yeah, gonna make you feel so good, I promise,” he mumbled, forehead pressed to the nape of your neck as his hips drew back and he sunk into you over and over again.

He needed you to moan louder, needed your neighbors on the other side of every wall to hear what he did to you, how he fucked you dumb on his cock and made you drunk with the pleasure of it—slutty and perfect and better than any fantasy he could ever concoct.

The room was filled completely with the wet slap of your bodies—his balls tightening up just at the squelch of you taking him—leaving only enough space for your cries and his grunting, no room left for any bitter doubt to creep in and ruin the sweetness in the air.

He could feel the surge growing in his stomach, the tensing in his thighs as his hips stuttered, but he needed you to cum first. Wanted to tip over the edge to the feeling of you spasming around him, so he let a hand slip from your hip to your folds. Jin only paused for a moment to run a finger around your stretched hole, feeling himself plunging into you, before drifting back up to your swollen clit and working the sensitive bud.

The mattress creaked and rocked along as Jin increased his pace, shifting his hips until his tip knocked against something that had your hands fisting in the sheets and your tongue lolling out in between cries of his name.

You didn’t give him much a warning, not that he minded really. Just a muffled shout with your head smashed into the pillows and the tightening of your walls surrounding him before he felt your whole body wracked with tremors so hard he had to wrap both arms around your middle and hold you while he rammed into you.

Jin wasn’t really keeping track of the filth that was pouring from his lips as he brought himself closer to release. A lot of encouragement, that you were taking him so well, cumming so pretty for him, mixed with a lot of thanks—for letting him have this, have you, for not casting him aside like everyone else always inevitably did.

He did have the clarity to drag one arm up and link your fingers together, pressing hard into the bed while blood pounded in his ears and his hips stuttered in their relentless rhythm. When Jin did finally cum, it was a strangely silent affair, all the words and sound that usually roared inside him dying on his lips as his cock spilled milky release deep inside you and your walls fluttered at the fullness.

And then it was as though every muscle in his body changed physical states.

Boneless, he collapsed onto you with a little huff. You didn’t even complain, just squeezed his hand tighter in yours and hummed at the weight of him.

“Well I think that was a, um,” you panted while he nuzzled his face deeper into your neck, “pretty equivalent exchange yeah?”

“I don’t know,” Jin kissed and nipped at the sweet skin of your shoulder, “I think you might have over paid a bit.”

You laughed, the joyous movement of your chest jostled him from your back and had his soft cock slipping from you in a gush of combined release. “I doubt that very much, I didn’t know I’d be getting to take your fucking load as part of the deal.”

“Shit,” he felt his heart seize in his chest, raising up on his elbows to look down as you turned to him. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

Your hand came up to stroke his cheek, clammy but welcome. He sat up enough so you could lay on your back and pull him back down to your chest amidst the sweat and cum slicked sheets.

“Don’t worry about it, I would have asked you to anyway,” you kissed the baby frizz at his hairline and if Jin hadn’t already melted into a puddle, then he certainly was now. “If I’d been able to talk at all.”

“Ha, yeah….”

A short silence descended in your dark bedroom. The noise of cars and the occasional shout filtered in through the window, but there was no other sound than your evening breaths. Jin tried not to ruin the peace while he had it.

It was such a rare commodity.

But he couldn’t say he mourned the quiet when you finally spoke.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you asked in that soft way he always envisioned you would.

Soft so he’d know it was just a courtesy.

That you didn’t want him to leave.

“Uh, yeah, yes I would,” he stumbled over the words a bit, trying not to sound too eager but wanting you to know he would work a thousands shifts at the reception desk if it meant you held him for just a second longer.

“Good,” you sighed.

He felt you scoot down the bed and flopped onto his back so you could settle your head on his chest and drape an arm across his stomach. After another few minutes he felt you go limp at his side, soft and relaxed as you slipped away into dreams.

But though his muscles ached and his eyes felt heavy, Jin resisted the call to sleep.

He didn’t need to now.

You were here, in the flesh, and he could study you intently while his eyes were open.

No need for his brain to conjure up scattered images of you.

Because he had you now, tucked safely under his arm for him to keep and hold and fuck and love the way he wanted.

So there was no more need for sleep.

And no need for dreams.

#twice x reader #twice x you #jin bubaigawara x reader #bee writes #bnha fanfiction #college au #library!twice x student!reader #twice mha #bee.writes

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a-flickering-soul · 3 years

Text

EverymanHYBRID And Deer In Media: In Five Parts (click for individual comparisons)

Deer are both a symbol of fragile purity and the untamable wild–here, we examine deer in the context of man, where deer come to represent the urge within us to abandon the conscious ego for the subconscious id. The deer is a symbol, too, of rebirth, of transformation, of shedding and regrowing its weapons each year. To kill, to be reborn, to choose to be monstrous through our proximity to humanity. Is there not something pure in surrendering to animal instinct? If deer are the twin themes of innocence and wildness, then we in turn are the juxtaposition of humanity and monstrousness–our actions made monstrous by the attempt to temper them with humanity.

(transcript, analysis, and sources below cut)

1: The Secret History & EverymanHYBRID--Bodies

The Secret History, on the killing of a man in a hallucinatory bacchanal:

"'Henry,' I said at last. 'Good God.' "He raised an eyebrow. 'Really, it was more upsetting than you can realize,' he said. 'Once I hit a deer with my car. It was a beautiful creature and to see it struggling, blood everywhere, legs broken ... And this was even more distressing but at least I thought it was over. I never dreamed we'd hear anything else about it.'"

EverymanHYBRID, "Ryan and the SEVENTRIALSOFHABIT":

A shot of a deer's dead body at the side of the road at night, looking crumpled and not quite right. The captions read: "Jeff: It's a fucking deer, dude. (Evan: See it?) Yeah. Something cut its belly open. (Evan: It cut its belly open the wrong way.)"

Parallels drawn:

Consider this one an amuse-bouche. Henry draws comparisons between a man he killed to a deer he accidentally hit with a car, mildly naming the incident ‘distressing’. There is a lack of human empathy, of guilt over killing a fellow man. In comparison, Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie at this point in the EMH plotline have not yet become hunter or hunted–they have not yet been warped by their roles in this iteration and can acknowledge the upsetting nature of the events that befall them. Henry has tasted that amoral nature and is less human for it, more visibly willing to shed that veneer of attempting to care about other people. Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie have not yet reached that point.

2: “Whoso List to Hunt”, EverymanHYBRID, and The Secret History--The Chase

"Whoso List to Hunt", on hunting a fabled white hind:

"I am of them that farthest cometh behind./ Yet may I by no means my wearied mind/ Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore/ Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,/ Sithens in a net I seek to hold the wind./ Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,/ As well as I may spend his time in vain. And graven with diamonds in letters plain/ There is written, her fair neck round about:/ Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,/ and wild to hold, though I seem tame."

EverymanHYBRID, "Slushpops and Surprises”

A shot of white text on a black page, "[Enter the tragic hero and his unattainable companion.]"

The Secret History, on hallucinations experienced during the bacchanal (bold for emphasis):

“‘Camilla said that during part of it, she’d believed she was a deer; and that was odd, too, because the rest of us remember chasing a deer through the woods, for miles it seemed. Actually it was miles. I know that for a fact. Apparently we ran and ran and ran, because when we came to ourselves we had no idea where we were.’”

EverymanHYBRID, “December & early January”:

A shot of Vinnie, hand covering his face in shock, as he sits and listens to Jessa’s last voicemail before she went missing. Jeff can be seen in the background, listening in silence. The captions read “[Jessa’s voice, recorded]: Steph, that thing you were talking about, I saw it...he’s real, he’s right here. What the hell does he want? I think he’s following me.”

Parallels drawn:

The deer symbolizes wild nature, something that man cannot obtain, touch, or capture without abandoning something of his own humanity. Similarly, deer represent the unattainable prey. Noli me tangere, says Caesar’s unattainable deer– touch me not, no matter how hard you may attempt to catch me. Jessa of EMH is deemed the unattainable companion and Jeff’s driving force to discover the truth behind the situation they’ve been placed in–it is Jessa, dangled in front of him after she goes missing, that leads Jeff down the path that inevitably leads to his own death after uncovering too much. The deer is to be chased, to be hunted, and never captured. Camilla from The Secret History believed herself to be a deer during the same hallucinatory bacchanal that cost a man his life, and led her brother and friends on a chase spanning miles. Jessa was hunted by an unknowable force, then used as bait to draw her partner down the path to his own death. Unattainability, the shape of something fleeing in front of you, elicits a powerful reaction to follow, to hunt, to chase. Jessa fell victim to that reaction. Camilla, and the white hind, did not.

3: The Myth of Diana and Actaeon, EverymanHYBRID, and The Secret History--Madness

The Diana and Actaeon Fountain at the Caserta Royal Palace:

The detail of the fountain shown depicts the pivotal scene in the myth of Actaeon and Artemis, where Actaeon, mid-transformation into a stag, is killed for the slight of viewing the goddess Artemis nude.The sculpture shows the transformation in no mercy, plain in its depiction of Actaeon’s pain and terror, and the simple ferocity of the hounds that surround him.

EverymanHYBRID, “May & June”:

A shot of Jeff, blood spattered across him, speaking with a shocked and angry tone. The captions read, “Jeff: Why were we doing that? That was...that’s not what we were looking for. We knew damned well that wasn’t what we were trying to kill. (Vince: Close enough.) It was a deer! It was a fucking deer! I tried to pull you off, you tried to punch me in the fucking face!”

The Secret History, on the Greeks’ view of beauty and terror (bold for emphasis):

“Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful to souls like the Greeks or to our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? Euripedes speaks of the Maenads: head thrown back, throat to the stars, ‘more like deer than human being’.”

Parallels drawn:

Most depictions of Actaeon, sculpture or painting, usually show him with antlers or a deer lower body, leaving his head and face a recognizable human shape. However, the sculptor here decided to subvert expectations and leave his body human, giving Actaeon the animal head of a stag. The loss of control and the descent from human to animal is not glorified or made palatable by the mere addition of a crown of antlers--there is only the one constant, fear, that follows him all the way down. Madness may be defined as a loss of control, and there may be something beautiful and terrifying in feeling your sanity slip through your own fingers. Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie are overtaken by brief, inexplicable madness and tear apart a deer as they come dangerously close to uncovering exactly who and what is hunting them. They skate close to seeing soemthing they shouldn't see. It is only Jeff who looks up, shocked by the blood on his hands, and voices his fear. Vinnie, apathetic, lets it go. But Evan, houndlike and irrational, defends his kill.

4: EverymanHYBRID & Hannibal--Warnings and Temptation

EverymanHYBRID, “May & June”:

A shot of Evan, spattered heavily with blood, standing with shoulders caved in protectively. His left hand is raised to his mouth, with his hair covering his eyes, and he is licking the blood off of his fingers.

“Shot Through The Hart, and Hannibal’s To Blame” (bold for emphasis):

“In my post about ravens, I talked about how it’s not always easy to tell what the Ravenstag really means. Is it evidence of the Hannibalesque elements of Will’s soul? Or a warning of those parts growing within him? Does the Ravenstag urge Will forward on his journey, or warn him of what’s to come?”

Hannibal, Season 1, Episode 1 “Aperitif”:

A shot of the Ravenstag, staring directly into the camera with one hoof up, as if to approach. There are black feathers interwoven with its pelt and its eyes have an uncanny shine.

Parallels drawn:

On a naturalistic note, deer are skittish creatures. They have thin legs and a sleek body, made for running. A small head and big eyes, placed wide-set to see coming predators. Keen ears. They are ready at any moment to sense danger, warn others, and flee. When a deer does not move, it is either safe or sizing up its options, either accepting where it is or preparing to run. Deer, staring directly at the viewer, come as a sympathetic warning to flee or, in its dark eyes and firm stance, a temptation. Me tangere, they say. Come closer. We are one and the same. In Bryan Fuller’s Hannibal, the commanding presence of the Ravenstag serves as both a warning and a beckoning temptation to turn his feet down the darker path. It is otherworldly, black-furred and feathered, and yet a warning of events rooted in the real world--does Will understand what danger he is in upon meeting Hannibal and take the warning, or will he ignore it, sensing that same darkness in himself, that same potential for corruption? In EverymanHYBRID, it is that same killing of a deer that hints at that same potential for darkness growing inside Evan. He licks at his fingers, animalistic, fully ignoring his own Ravenstag warning signs for the delight of the hunt. Is he Evan anymore? Or is something else growing inside him?

5: EverymanHYBRID & Hannibal--Predator and Prey, or the Final Act

EverymanHybrid, “:D”:

A shot of HABIT, looking up a set of stairs with one foot on the bottom step. In one hand down by his side, he is holding a knife. His posture is tilted forward, poised, ready to spring into action, like that of a hunter.

“Shot Through The Hart, and Hannibal’s To Blame” (bold for emphasis):

“The idea of deer as symbols of rebirth also stands out to me. Hannibal is a series obsessed with becoming and transformation. People start one way, and are reborn as something completely other by the end of the show. There’s even a character sewn up into a deceased pregnant horse in the hopes that when she’s released, she will be literally reborn as something different. It’s thus a neat fit, this significance of deer with the themes of the show.”

EverymanHYBRID, “:D”:

A shot of Jeff, looking up and to the side with an expression of caution and fear. His eyes are unnerved, squinting as, from offscreen, HABIT’s hand plays idly with his hat.

Parallels drawn:

The first and final incarnation of the deer is, of course, prey. Beyond and before any symbolism of innocence and wildness and warnings, deer are prey animals, to be hunted and devoured. And yet, in keeping with the concept of contrasting symbolism, deer are not helpless. Yearly, they shed and regrow their antlers in a transformation of horn and blood. At the climax of EverymanHYBRID, the final reveal, the final transformation, comes to fruition. HABIT, formerly Evan, takes its place as the Hunter, the archetypal predator, with Jeff shown most prominently as the Prey. Jeff’s luck has run its course, with him in the chair as the sacrificial prey-victim to fall to HABIT’s knife. HABIT, reborn, reiterated, made incarnate through Evan’s unwilling transformation, is poised to start the hunt. This is the big reveal, the crux of the transformation, Actaeon caught mid-transfiguration and the bloody sloughing-off of velvet humanity to reveal perfect and gleaming antlers. This is what it comes down to, time and time again. The hunter and the hunted. The wilderness embraced and the wilderness captured, and the monstrosity in that act.

Works Cited

Callimachus. Actaeon and Artemis. C. 220 BC

Fuller, Bryan. “Apetirif.” Hannibal, season 1, episode 1, NBC, 4 Apr. 2013.

Koval, J., Caffarello, V., &; Jennings, E. (Directors). (2011, July 12). May & June [Video file].

Koval, J., Caffarello, V., &; Jennings, E. (Directors). (2012, October 9). :D [Video file].

Tartt, Donna. The Secret History. Penguin, 2006.

Uhminuh. “Shot Through the Hart, and Hannibal's to Blame.” Read the Rude, Wordpress, 19 July 2020.

Wyatt, Thomas. “Whoso List to Hunt, I Know where is an Hind.” c. 1530.

Honorary mention to this fanart by @/rrhaes that started this whole spiral

#emh #everymanhybrid #flickerthoughts #flicker wrote this #i'm serious when i say this has been brewing in my head for a calendar year #i finally pieced it together at the beginning of this week and it's STILL incomprehensible but i think the vibes are there #emh my beloved emh and the themes and motifs and symbolism that exists in my head #i have a love hate relationship w the secret history but i put it all in here #also i am two eps deep in hannibal but i think i got the gist idk #anyways i want you all to know i REALLY wanted to work in the iphigenia/steph parallels but it just didn't make sense in this context #maybe i'll post it later idk but!!! here take this #in keeping with the theme of my best literary analysis showing up when i'm at my breaking point wrt life #this :handshake: reylux parallels post -- created under emotional duress #i rly wanna do one that's like 'slenderverse women + being followed' bc that's a FEELING.#if i am saying the emh boys are actaeon torn to shreds by their own dogs after they hunt the wrong prey.....that's my business lmao #should i tag the other stuff? here i'll tag em here so they don't show up in search #hannibal #the secret history #flicker's meta

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jenohi · 3 years

Text

Let Me Love You

"Smoke and Mirrors keep us waiting on a miracle."

“My cousin Y/N is transferring here to SMU. My parents asked me to stay with her and take care of her, so she and I decided to share an apartment. I know we planned to stay here for all 4 years of college but my parents were adamant.” Taeil said to his friends apologetically.

Yuta got up from the table and scoffed. He would never openly admit it to anybody but in the past year he had gotten really attached to his friends, the members of their new secret society, NCT. After their first semester, they had agreed to rent a house together on the edge of campus that they would all stay in for the next seven semesters of university. “How old is she? 12? She’s a university student, why does she need to be babysat by you?”

The other members eyed Yuta wearily, he definitely had the shortest temper out of all of them. After a long pause, Taeyong decided on a resolution. “That’s okay Taeil, we understand. Just remember we’ll always have a room open for you. You’re still a member of NCT. Every Sunday at 8 we’ll still meet here if that works for everybody?”

Taeyong looked around the table and was satisfied when everybody nodded, the last person he saw was Yuta. Yuta wasn’t happy about this, but he knew it wasn’t really his place to tell his friend not to move out. So eventually, he nodded his head in agreement as well and Taeyong smiled. He didn’t see it but Taeil smiled and breathed a sigh of relief as well.

‘In all 21 years of my life, I have never met someone as infuriating as Nakamoto Yuta.’ You thought as you tossed the left over trash from your cousin and his teammate, friend? You weren't exactly sure what their relationship was. When the Moon cousins had initially agreed to share an apartment together in the city just outside their university, the last thing You expected was to have to deal with a constant stream of rowdy boys constantly going in and out of their apartment.

After piling all the leftover dishes into the sink, You turned on the faucet and began to start washing the dishes. You only looked up and smiled when Taeil spoke to you, about to leave their place “Hey Y/N, thanks for making us dinner. It was really yummy!”

Yuta didn’t say anything. He could sense that You always had some kind of edge against him. It bothered him a little bit, but not enough for him to do anything about it. Whenever he came to hang out with Taeil at his place, you usually stayed out of the way so although your presence may have been uncomfortable. It had never outright inconvenienced him.

Once the two had left, You made your way to the balcony of their apartment. You shrieked when you breathed in the remnants of the cigarette smoke in the air. You looked down to see two cigarette butts in the ashtray that had not been properly snuffed out. You picked them up and tossed them on the ground and stomped on them to snuff them out.

You didn’t have an issue with smoking, you even smoked a cigarette or two in the times you were most stressed out but there were few things you hated more than the smell of cigarettes. After snuffing out the butts, you stormed back into the apartment and picked up your phone to call Taeil.

“Hey, I thought I told you to make sure you take care of the cigarettes and the smell when you’re done smoking them!” You yelled into the phone as soon as your cousin answered. “Look, I don’t have an issue with it, but I don’t want to accidentally burn down our entire apartment complex and you know I hate the smell when you smoke too much.”

You stopped your rant when you realized your cousin hadn’t said anything. Taeil was sweet and usually he would have said something to apologize by now. You looked down at your phone, his name was on the caller ID. You brought the phone back up to your ear “Taeil?”

“Not Taeil. This is Yuta.”

“Yuta? Where’s Taeil? Why are you answering his phone? Can you put him on the line?”

There was a pause, You could hear vague mutterings from the phone before Yuta’s voice was back on the line. “Taeil’s busy right now.”

You heard a groan that sounded like someone got hit and then a bunch of voices that followed in an ‘ooh’. Then you heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like your cousin scream. “Is that Taeil? Is he okay?”

“I’ll let him know you called. I gotta go now. Bye.” Yuta said quickly, trying to end the conversation.

“Wait!” You shrieked before he could hang up. “What’s going on? Where are you guys?”

You narrowed your eyes as you heard Yuta scoff into the phone “your cousin Taeil is a grown-ass man. You don’t have to worry about him alright?”

“But-”

“Are you busy tonight?”

“What?”

“There’s a party tonight at my house. Come, starts at 11:30 PM.”

“No, I don’t want to go to a party. It’s a Tuesday! Is Taeil okay? That sounded like him earlier.”

“If you want to check on your beloved cousin, come to my party. He’ll be there. Loosen up a little bit, it’ll be fun.”

“Um, I’ll think about it.”

“Great.” Yuta said, hanging up before You could say anything else. You stared at your phone, what in the world had just happened? You looked at the clock to see that it was 10:30. You had an hour to decide if you would actually go to the party or not. Who else was going to be there?

You didn’t know very many people since you had just transferred to SMU, so maybe it was a good idea to go to this party and socialize a little bit. You could take the opportunity to potentially make some friends.

Just as You was about to finish touching up your make-up, your phone pinged. You picked it up to see that it was an address from an unknown number. You tapped on the address to see where it was, as you were doing so, you saw a notification of another message. ‘This is Yuta btw.’

The house was on the very edge of campus and close enough that you could just walk there. You were surprised to see that there were already crowds of people both inside and outside the house. There were colorful lights flashing from outside the house.

‘How the heck am I actually supposed to meet anybody like this?’ You asked herself. You took a deep breath and made her way up the stairs and into the packed house. You threaded through the crowd of people dawdling in the foyer, pushing her way to find some space. Eventually, you made her way into the kitchen and breathed a sigh of relief once you had some space to herself.

There was a whole bunch of opened bottles of alcohol and stacks of cups laid out on the island in the middle of the kitchen. You moved closer to the island and started reading the labels of the bottles. In Germany you didn’t go to very many parties, if you wanted to drink you would just go to the bar and order a beer. But you didn’t see any kind of drink you recognized here.

“Do you need help?” a melodic voice asked her. You turned around to see a fairy like girl approach her. You didn’t say anything as the girl grabbed the cup from her hand.

“Do you like Coca Cola?” the girl asked. You nodded and you grabbed a large glass bottle and started pouring the liquid into the plastic cup and then you grabbed the large bottle of Coca Cola resting on the island and poured it into the cup before handing the cup back to You.

“I’m Selena by the way.” Now that You could see her up close, she really did look like a fairy. You didn’t comment on the fact that her hair seemed kinda messy or that her lipstick was obviously smeared.

“Nice to meet you Selena, I’m You.”

Just as Selena was about to respond, a pair of arms wrapped around her waist effectively cutting off the conversation. You were shocked to see that it was Taeil who had his arms wrapped around Selena, he was currently whispering something into her ear that made her giggle.

When Taeil looked up, his eyebrows jumped up to see You standing there. “Hey Y/N, I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Uh yeah, it was kind of last minute. Yuta invited me actually.”

At this, Taeil’s eyebrows rose even higher. He knew that the two had always been at odds with each other. “Yuta?”

As if he were summoned by the devil himself, Yuta appeared in the kitchen. He strode over to the other side of the kitchen island and started digging through the bottles. Cursing when he couldn’t find whatever bottle he was looking for. He paused when he spotted the drink in You’s hand.

“What are you drinking?” he asked. His eyes looked up, one side of his lips pulling up into a smirk when he recognized You. “So the prissy princess finally decided to show her face to the lowly commoners.”

“I’m not a prissy princess.” You said. You looked down at your cup and then over at Selena, you had no idea what drink the girl had made for you.

“Sorry Yuta. I used the last of the rum to make her a rum and coke.” Selena said, a smirk painted on her face. You tried not to appear too nosy when you looked over at Selena to see her leaning into Taeil. Did Taeil have a girlfriend that You didn’t know about?

It was obvious that Yuta was dissatisfied. He stared you down and when you finally turned your attention to him, he looked down at the drink. “Are you going to drink that?”

You looked down at the cup again, startled, then looked back up at Yuta. “Uh, yeah but you can have some if you’d like.”

You handed him your red solo cup over the kitchen island. Yuta plucked it from your hand and took a slug of it before dropping it back into your hand. “It's good. Try it.”

He drank a lot, half of the cup was empty. You lifted the cup to your face and took a sip, you tried not to make a face as you tasted the bitter rum. This is what people drank at parties?

“What do you think?”

“It’s alright.” You said. It tasted horrible and you didn’t want it anymore. But you didn’t want to offend Selena.

“Liar.” Yuta said, he scoffed as he grabbed the cup from your hands and drank the rest of it.

“I’m not lying!” You said, looking over to make sure you didn’t offend Selena. You were shocked to see that Selena and your cousin had disappeared. “Okay, maybe I lied a little bit.”

Yuta tossed his head back and laughed. “Loosen up. You look so uncomfortable. This is a party, go have fun.”

“I’ve never been to a party before. Everyone is already so...drunk.” You said.

Suddenly everything made sense to Yuta, why the darn girl was always so uptight and prissy all the time. He made his way around the kitchen island and stood in front of You before placing one arm on each side of you and leaning down “they didn’t have parties back wherever you came from?”

What was he doing? You thought. You leaned back as far as you could, the expression on Yuta’s face was smug and you weren't sure what he was going to do. Out of all of Taeil’s friends, you heard that Yuta was the wildest and most spontaneous. “In Germany we just go to bars and drink beer. I’ve never gone to an event so...wild.”

“You think this is wild?” Yuta asked. “Have you checked out the basement yet?”

You shook your head. Yuta grinned, almost maniacally and grabbed one of your wrists and tugged you behind him, pulling you through crowds of people. Unlike how you had to push your way between groups of people earlier, the crowds seemed to part for Yuta and wherever he went eyes followed him.

Instead of pulling you downstairs like you expected, he pulled you up a set of stairs and pulled you into an empty room. You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. Both You and Yuta could tell that you had been tense and uncomfortable since you had stepped into the house.

“Pick your poison.” Yuta said, pulling open a fridge he had set aside in the corner of his room. “These are all my drinks. This is the good stuff that we don’t share at parties.”

“Wow, you’re letting me have exclusive access?” You said, in an almost mocking tone. Yuta raised an eyebrow.

You bent down to look to see what was in the fridge. You smiled in delight when you saw your favorite brand of beer. You grabbed a bottle and held it against the edge of the fridge and smacked the top with your hand to take off the cap. Yuta didn’t say anything but he was impressed, this was the first time he had seen You behave this way.

Yuta couldn’t say anything when You tossed your head back to take a sip of beer. You made it look like a beer commercial. After a couple more delicate sips, Yuta grabbed one of your arms and pulled you close so that you stood in between his legs and your ear was right up against his mouth.

“Chug it.” he said. You looked at him with your eyebrows raised. Yuta raised his eyebrows in return.

You shouldn’t chug it. That would be unclassy. You thought. But why did you kind of want to? You looked Yuta in the eyes and narrowed your eyes, what was he playing at? The corner of Yuta’s lips pulled up into his trademark smirk as he opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of the same beer and used his teeth to pop the top off.

Yuta pulled the bottle you drank from out of his hand and replaced it with the one you just opened. He put your already opened one on the desk and grabbed another one before biting on the cap again and spitting out the cap. He clinked the two newly opened bottles together, and lifted his bottle up to his lips.

“I’ll do it with you.” Yuta said.

With the bottle at his lips, Yuta gave you the most taunting expression. He was challenging you, and You never refused a challenge. You brought your bottle to your lips and started pouring the beer back down your throat.

Yuta was both mildly surprised and mildly amused to see how quickly You had finished your beer. In fact, you had finished your bottle before he had finished his. As soon as you finished your first bottle, he picked up the bottle you drank from earlier that was sitting on his desk and handed it to your.

You gave him a look before placing down the bottle you had finished and taking the one you had drank from earlier and tossing it back down your throat as well.

Two beers wasn’t enough to get you blackout drunk. But it was certainly enough for you to start feeling a buzz.

Yuta waited for you to finish your second beer and once you did he took the bottle from you and grinned at you. You grinned back like a loon and with a satisfied grin Yuta grabbed your wrist again and pulled you behind him.

This time, he did pull you down to the basement. And it was wild. It was dark and the lights were colorful. There were people everywhere and this time people did not part for Yuta. People were dancing, or wobbling goofily. The sight was amusing.

You didn’t even notice that you had let go of Yuta’s hand. You found yourself swaying along to the loud beats of the song. You didn’t know who was around you or exactly where you were but you were having fun. Honestly, it was kind of gross as it was super hot and there were at least 5 people pressed up against you but never had you let herself experience this kind of situation.

Yuta cursed when he noticed that You were no longer with him. You would be fine on your own right? He needed to find Taeyong and take care of some things really quick.

You spotted Taeil near a makeshift bar and grinned, you pushed through the people and made your way over to him grinning. He grinned back and waved at you. When you were close enough, he approached you “are you having fun?”

You nodded, dancing along to the beat. “I didn’t think I would but I’m actually enjoying this. I could use a drink though, it’s kind of hot down here.”

Taeil nodded and brought out another red solo cup. “The only thing we have down here is jungle juice. It’s pretty much just cheap wine with juice, but it does the job.”

You took a sip and was delighted to find that it tasted pretty much just like juice and you drank the rest of the cup and before handing it back to Taeil for him to refill. The surprise was evident on his face “I didn’t know you liked these kinds of events. I should have invited you earlier.”

“No it’s okay. I’ve never really been to an event like this before and I don’t think I’d like it. But today I am loosening up.” You declared. You grabbed the cup and wandered off into the crowd of people.

The alcohol was starting to hit you and the people around you were starting to blur. You suddenly felt nauseous when you felt someone grab you by the wrist and jerk you around. When you looked up you saw that it was Yuta.

“Yuta!”

“What’s that in your hand? Where did you get that?” he asked. He tried to grab the cup from you but you kept moving it away from him. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to accept drinks from strangers? Are you stupid?”

You shoved him away, shocked into sobriety by his words. You moved to walk away from him. You thought maybe you had read Yuta wrong and maybe he wasn’t so infuriating but actually he was infuriating and a jerk.

Undeterred, Yuta followed you and grabbed your again. This time he did manage to grab the cup from your hands and he tossed it in a trash can that was sitting in the corner of the basement.

“Hey! What are you doing?” You shrieked.

“What are you doing? Where did you get that drink? It could be roofied.” he yelled.

“What is your problem? I got that from Taeil. You know? My cousin?” You yelled back. This time Yuta had no words. You rolled your eyes and scoffed, you placed both hands on his chest and leaned close to speak in his ear.

“Get lost.”

You used both hands to push him back into the crowd and stepped away from him. You found the staircase that led you back to the main floor and made your way up. This isn't fun anymore. The party was over. Taeil was fine.

“What’s your problem?” Yuta yelled from behind you. You whirled around him and stomped back to him and stood so that you were standing right in front of him nose to nose.

“No. What’s your problem? You invited me to this party. You gave me a drink too! Why are you overreacting over Taeil giving me a drink?”

He followed you out of the NCT house. “Aw, did I make the prissy princess upset? I’m so sorry. Whatever will I do?”

“What’s wrong with you?” You screamed once you were both far enough from the NCT house. You were incredibly irritated, tired, and frustrated.

“What do you have against me? Ever since you’ve arrived at SMU all you’ve done is be such a bitch. To me. And specifically me. Trust me, I’ve noticed.”

You paused. You didn’t realize that Yuta had noticed. You looked away and tried to think of what to say. You couldn’t come up with the right thing to say so you just settled with “sorry.”

“Sorry? You think I’m gonna let you get off with a sorry?” Yuta scoffed. He walked up to you this time, and looked down at you.

“What do you want then?” You asked, not backing down.

“You.” Yuta said, and for a moment it was dead silent. Then Yuta threw his head back and cackled. “That’s what you thought I was gonna say right?”

He didn’t even notice that you had turned around and stormed off back towards the direction of your apartment. He followed you back to your apartment, but he didn’t bother to chase after you. He strolled casually back towards your apartment jingling your keys in his pocket.

As soon as you reached your apartment and reached into your pocket for your keys you cursed when you realized they weren’t on you. You patted your other pockets and fished out your phone hoping that Taeil was still awake. You dialed his number.

“Looking for these?” You heard Yuta say from behind you as he jingled your keys in front of your face.

Just as you reached up to snatch them from him, he moved to hold them behind his back.

“Give those back to me. I want to go home and sleep. This night sucks.”

“No.”

You whined. “Why?”

“Tell me what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry for being a bitch can I have my keys back?”

Yuta looked unimpressed.

“Fine. I’ll tell you why I’ve been rude to you, but can we do it inside? You’ll probably think it’s really stupid once you hear.”

“Okay. Move.”

You moved away from the door, and watched as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. You stepped inside when he gestured for you to go in. He stepped in after you and shut the door behind you both as you both took off your shoes and stepped into the apartment. Once the two of you were situated on opposite ends of the couch facing each other you spoke.

“The first few times you visited our apartment I got the impression that you were upset with me. That you didn’t want me around. So naturally, I decided to act back. Plus, whenever you come here you and Taeil leave this place a mess. The other guys either clean up after themselves or it’s not so bad and Taeil cleans it up himself.”

Yuta didn’t say anything for a few moments. “The truth is, I didn’t want you here. At first.”

“Great.” you said, turning away from him and getting up from the couch. “Get out.”

“Wait.” Yuta said, grabbing your hand before you could leave. “At first. At first, I didn’t want you here. The truth is your cousin is awesome, before you came we and a few other guys lived together and they’re the closest friends I’ve ever had. We were, we are a brotherhood. And I was concerned about what you coming here and Taeil moving out would do to the dynamic of our friendship.”

“So what?” You asked, turning around to look at him. “What changed?”

Yuta didn’t answer and you were getting annoyed. So you tried to tug your hand out of his. But he didn’t let go. Instead when you tried pulling your hand out of his a second time, he pulled you forward, so hard you fell into his lap.

“I realized I was being really dumb. I realized that Taeil’s cousin is really cool and I started to get jealous that she treated all the other brothers better than me. Then...I started to develop feelings for Taeil’s hot prissy cousin from Germany.”

You didn’t say anything as you were straddled on Yuta’s lap. His forehead was pressed against yours and you could feel his eyes looking at yours, trying to make eye contact you. But you were unsure of how to feel, you kept your eyes looking downward. How had things shifted so suddenly? What was this feeling?

Before Yuta could second guess himself he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours. He stayed like that, holding his breath and hoping you wouldn’t push him away. When you lifted an arm around his shoulders and moved your lips against him he breathed a sigh of relief and wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you in so that your bodies were melded together.

When you ran out of breath you pulled your lips from his and leaned back to catch your breath. Yuta moved one arm from your waist up so that his hand held the side of your head. You leaned your head into it and he leaned forward and began to kiss down from behind your ear to your collarbones.

“I-, we should stop.” you were confused and you were tired. How had things escalated so quickly?

Yuta stopped and lifted his head up. He moved his arm back down so that both arms tightly gripped your waist, holding you against him. You moved your hands to his biceps and tried to push yourself out of his grip. “Let me go.”

“Don’t you think that we should talk about it?”

“No. I want to sleep.” You said, still looking away from him and avoiding his gaze.

He lifted you up wordlessly, you gave up on trying to fight out of his grip and wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. You tucked your face into his neck.

“Don’t fall asleep.” Yuta said as he fell back on your bed, still carrying you. “The way we are, we still have a million miles ahead of us.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Please, Yuta. I need to sleep and I need to think.”

You were saying one thing, but your face was still tucked into Yuta’s neck and your limbs were still wrapped around Yuta’s body.

“Can I stay?” Yuta asked quietly. The truth was, he was nervous and worried that he had come on too strong, that he had played his cards wrong. But he breathed a sigh of relief when he heard you say.

“Yeah.”

The last thing you heard as Yuta lifted both of you up and under the covers was “don’t you give up. Let me love you.”

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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 3 years

Text

Irresistible Danger - Part 51

Synopsis: After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,279

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

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Author’s Note: Holy crap, can y’all believe I dove back into writing this fic after almost two years with no updates?! I’m still shook over it haha. I will say that this fic has gone way off canon at this point (I haven’t watched the last few seasons of the show and also didn’t finish the last few issues of the comics). However, I’ve had a vision for certain characters and events for the last how many years, so I don’t plan to change them just to try and fit canon. I also now realize that while I tried to make “you” as nondescript as possible, there are physical traits and actions of her character that haven’t been as inclusive of all potential readers as I had thought when first starting the fic 5 years ago. I apologize for that, and plan to be more aware of those things with any reader characters I write in future fics. My plan is to post a chapter update every Friday from here on out, until it’s over, so fingers crossed I can accomplish that. Enjoy! :D

Cloud Nine

You surfaced from the depths of sleep slowly, rather than the more abrupt jolt to consciousness that usually started off your days. Feeling cozy and relaxed, a slight smile tipped your lips in contentment. It didn’t take long to realize that the reason for your positive mood was the large, warm body with which you were currently sharing the tiny, twin-sized bed.

Eyes blinking open, you took in the delightful sight of masculine bare skin. You were curled up against Negan’s side, cheek cushioned on his chest and both legs were wrapped around his nearest thigh. The bedsheet was pulled up over your back and ended teasingly right above his hips. One of your hands lay palm-down on his stomach, fingers twitching slightly in delight at the feel of the hard muscles beneath the soft skin. You could tell from the curve of his body that he was sitting with his back reclined against the rickety headboard. You might’ve found his positioning odd, but you were still a little hazy from sleep and so could only feel happiness at not waking up to an empty bed, like last time.

You were on cloud nine after talking things out with him last night. Being able to work through a conflict together had been major progress, and you had been proud of yourself for laying down your boundaries regarding your here-to-stay friendship with Ben, as well as standing your ground regarding the situation with Trixie and the pregnancy test. It was important that Negan learn to trust you when it came to situations such as those, and it seemed as though that message had finally gotten through to him last night.

The fact that he had even come to your room and taken the huge step of apologizing for his hasty reaction still had you a bit in shock. The evening had panned out much differently than your original plan of going to bed angry. Instead, you had gone to bed very satisfied, and then woken up next to the man who was very quickly becoming essential to your daily happiness.

He must’ve felt you shift against him, one hand coming down to rub your bare shoulder as he gave a soft, “Mornin’, doll.”

His raspy morning voice sent tingles down your spine, even as your brain fought to stay awake. It still felt way too early to be sitting up and conversing, so instead of returning the greeting, you buried closer into his side and grumbled, “What time is it?” The words were muffled against his skin, nose pressed into his chest hair as you inhaled the glorious male scent of him.

You felt him lean over towards the side table. He must’ve been checking your watch, because he replied, “‘Bout 6:50.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Language.”

“Hmph. Do you always get up so early?”

“It’s more productive than sleeping half the day away and being late to everything.”

That got more of a response, as you finally lifted your head to glare up at him for the jab. However, he didn’t notice, as he was too focused on the book held in front of him. It was then that you realized why he was sitting up in bed, a smirk crossing your face at the novel he had open and was intensely reading. You felt a spark of desire low in your belly, the sight of a sleep-tousled and naked Negan lounging in your bed while reading Harry Potter an unexpected, but welcomed, aphrodisiac.

“Thought you didn’t read ‘fucking kid books’?” you sarcastically asked, quoting back his initial description of the series.

You received only a low grunt in response, his eyes not leaving the page. You weren’t offended, since you’d probably react the same way to someone trying to interrupt a reading of Harry Potter. In fact, you were a bit jealous that he got to experience the magical world for the first time. His curiosity must’ve gotten the better of him when he saw it lying on your bedside table, and it appeared as if he had already read a small chunk of it.

He didn’t seem to notice you staring, his attention still focused on the book. In fact, he held the page a scant few inches from his face, eyes squinted into slits. The sight was a tad humorous, though you wondered how long he had been struggling to see the words.

“I thought you needed glasses to read?” you asked.

“Fuck, you always so full of questions this early in the morning, doll?”

You pinched his side hard enough to make him jump and growl out another expletive, before giving him a saccharine smile and lifting a brow expectantly when he glared down at you.

Attention finally taken off the book, he reached over and plopped it down on the side table before rubbing his eyes with both palms. “I do. Felt like it took me a fucking hour to get through that last page.”

The fact that he had continued trying to read and hadn’t easily given up, despite his struggle to see the words, told you more than anything how much he must’ve been enjoying the novel. A warm thrill settled in your chest at the thought of him taking an interest in something he usually wouldn't bother with simply because you enjoyed it.

The warm thrill morphed into more of a low heat and traveled down your body as your gaze refocused on his bare skin. Moving the hand on his stomach upward over his chest, your fingertips traced the outline of the tattoo on his left pec.

“What prompted you to get this?” you asked, curious if there was a meaning behind the skull and criss-crossed rifles.

Giving a low chuckle, he replied, “Youth and stupidity.”

Giving a huffed laugh in return, you trailed curious fingers over to the other tattoos on his arms, inquiring about each one as you went. Some had a story behind them, others not so much (you had tried not to roll your eyes when he explained that the revolver on his right forearm was the same one he had handled once and thought was ‘fucking cool as shit’). He also had a few scars on his upper body, some from before the apocalypse but most from after. You listened intently as he opened up about each one, drinking in as much personal information about the man beside you as possible.

Not wanting to stop the exploration just yet, you pushed up on your other elbow and journeyed over his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple before running your fingers delicately through the surprisingly soft beard framing his gorgeous mouth.

Capturing the questing hand in his own, he brought your fingers to his lips. The breath caught in your chest when he kissed the mostly-healed scar from the knife injury you had acquired a few weeks prior. Heart beating frantically at the gentle gesture, you smiled up at him when he released your hand and allowed it to resume exploring.

“So,” you tried for calm and casual, fingers moving up to lightly trace his ear before diving into his thick hair and mapping the streaks of salt within the pepper. “What are your plans for today?”

It took him a few seconds to answer, his eyes having fluttered closed as your nails gently massaged his scalp. You smiled at his obvious enjoyment of your touch, at how he had lowered his walls in this moment and was allowing himself to be both physically and emotionally vulnerable.

“I wish they were to stay here and enjoy this fucking delightful body of yours all day, but I have a meeting with my Saviors at eight.”

The thought of spending an entire day frolicking in bed with Negan caused a dreamy sigh to leave your lips. His eyes opened and zeroed in on your mouth at the sound, that magical tongue of his coming out to lick his bottom lip as he added, “Though, that’s still about an hour away…”

At that, he quickly rolled over so his lean body was pinning you into the mattress, his lips cutting off your squeal of surprise before it even left your throat. The hand still in his hair tightened, causing him to give a low groan and grind his hips down into yours. You tried to make a mental note of his reaction to the touch, but seeing as how there were no barriers keeping his quickly-hardening erection from pressing into your thigh, all higher levels of brain function quickly flew out of the room.

Bracing above you, he leaned down and started kissing your neck, a move guaranteed to make you melt. When his mouth descended over the curve of your breasts, you tried to lift your head to watch his downward progress but a sharp pang of discomfort at your scalp made you wince and try to jerk away, which only succeeded in making the pain even worse.

“Ow, wait!” you blurted, causing Negan to instantly freeze and look up at you in alarm.

“Doll, what-”

“You’re on my hair! Move your hand!”

Quickly realizing his mistake, Negan moved the hand that had accidentally been pinning a large chunk of your hair, and by proxy your head, to the mattress.

“Fucking hell, I’m sorry, doll,” he cursed, making as if to lift his body off you entirely.

Now wanting his faux pas to ruin the moment, you pushed his shoulders sideways and hooked a leg up over his hip before commanding, “Roll over.”

He hesitated for a moment before relenting, the two of you somehow able to switch places on the narrow, twin-sized bed without falling off. Once the semi-awkward resituating was done, he was on his back and you were straddling his hips. The move caused the sheet to fall off, exposing your entire body to his gaze. Based on the way his eyes grew hazy with lust as they took in your bared curves, not to mention his obvious erection, it was safe to say that he didn’t mind this change in position one bit.

Warm, calloused palms drifted up over your thighs, hips, and the sides of your waist, before cupping breasts that were begging for his touch. Leaning down, your already-hardened nipples pressed into his palms as you kissed him hungrily. Shifting your hips, you started rubbing forwards and backwards over the erection pressed between both your lower stomachs. You moaned into each other’s mouths at the sensation, pussy lips parting around his girth so that your wetness coated his cock, the fat head bumping against your clit with each slide.

“I think I like being in charge,” you purred.

Giving a dark chuckle that sent shivers down your spine, he replied, “Enjoy it while it fucking lasts.”

Planning to do just that, you reached over to pluck a condom off the side table, incredibly grateful to whatever deity helped you successfully open the foil packet and smoothly roll the latex down over him on the first try. Tossing the empty packet over the side of the bed, you wrapped slightly trembling fingers around his swollen cock and lifted your hips, lining him up with your entrance. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly slid down his length, mouth falling open on a whimper at the feel of him parting overly-sensitive flesh that was still a bit sore from the activities of the previous night. Despite Negan’s initial threat over you stealing both coconut oil from the kitchen and condoms from his room, his only “punishment” last night had been fucking you relentlessly into the mattress until you had multiple orgasms and could barely even remember your own name.

In spite of the slight burn as sore muscles again stretched around his thickness, you didn’t stop until he was fully seated inside. His cock felt so big in this position that it was almost overwhelming, but you sat up so that your hands were braced on his chest and used your thigh muscles to start a slow up and down rhythm.

His fingers reached up and pinched your nipples, causing you to clench around him. He groaned at the sensation, gaze becoming more intense when you slightly picked up the pace. It felt magnificent, but at the same time you craved more of the hard, rough friction that he had given you the night before. Body trying to find that friction on its own, your hips swiveled in a circle as you sank back down, which must’ve felt just as amazing for him as it did you, since he gave a strangled moan at the same moment his hands immobilized your hips in a bruising grip.

“Alright, doll. My turn.”

That was the only warning you got before he braced his feet against the mattress and moved up in you, hard. Falling forward onto your palms with a gasp, fingers curled into the bedsheet and hips writhed in pleasure when he repeated the move. He continued the sharp, deep thrusts, watching your face closely before wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling your mouth down to his own. His tongue thrust into your mouth possessively, as if trying to claim as much of you at once as he could. The pace was brutal yet unhurried, each thrust feeling like a deliberate attack on your sanity as his movements drew fire over your skin and consumed you, body and soul.

Pressing down into him while leaning forward caused your clit to grind against his lower abdomen in the perfect way with each thrust, building up the orgasm that had previously hovered just out of reach. Breaking the kiss with a cry, you saw the expression of intense concentration on his face as he continued to move your bodies together in perfect rhythm. Breasts pressed into his chest and mouth panting at his ear, your body gave into his, letting him drive you up and over the edge, into the abyss of pleasure.

“Negan,” you moaned, muscles tightening then releasing as the orgasm washed through you. His answering grunt and curse signaled his own release, though he continued his driving rhythm through it all, wringing each drop of pleasure from your body until it collapsed limply on top of his.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you again traced over the tattoo on his chest, waiting for your heartbeat and breathing to slow back down to normal. Glancing up his body, you found him already looking back down at you, a relaxed and satisfied grin on his lips that was only witnessed behind closed doors, when the two of you were alone. His hand idly stroked over a piece of hair laying on your shoulder, the gesture making you think back to earlier when he had accidentally pinned you to the mattress, and the resulting ungraceful maneuvering to switch positions in a bed that was entirely too small for two adult bodies. A light laugh escaped you that caused Negan to raise an eyebrow in question.

“Just remembering your super smooth move from earlier,” you teased. You wouldn’t admit this out loud, but it was actually a bit of a relief to know that even Mr. Harem-of-Wives, Sex-God Negan wasn’t always flawless in the sack.

“Making fun of me, doll?” he growled.

“Maybe.”

Whack. The loud crack, accompanied by the slight sting of sensation against your left asscheek, caused you to jump and look at him in wide-eyed shock.

“Did you just spank me?!” you exclaimed.

“Maybe.”

Before you could form an appropriate reply, he silenced any retort with his lips. Shallow creature that you apparently were, the move worked, and when he pulled away a long minute later, your brain conveniently forgot why you were supposed to be coming up with a retort in the first place.

Negan glanced over at the side table, where your watch sat. Also looking over, you saw that it was now almost 7:30am, which meant he had half an hour to go back to his room and become presentable for his 8am Savior meeting. You were curious what the meeting was about, but didn’t want to ruin the perfection of the morning by bringing up a potentially serious topic.

“Much as I hate to say it, doll, duty fucking calls.”

Your expression must’ve showcased more than you thought, since he gave a chuckle and said, “How about I make it up to you by finishing our fucking chess bet?”

Interest instantly piqued, you sat up on his chest and replied, “The third outing?! Can we go today?”

He looked at you consideringly, before giving a slight nod and agreeing. “We fucking could, but I won’t be free until the dinner hour.”

Much as you didn’t want to skip out on your duties, even if it was with the leader of the establishment, you also weren’t about to turn down more alone time with Negan, especially outside of the Sanctuary.

“I could meet you at the front gate at 5?” you suggested. That would give you just enough time to make sure dinner was fully prepped and almost ready to serve, since the community ate their meal from 5 to 7pm. It lessened the guilt, since you wouldn’t be completely leaving Ben and the staff short-handed.

“Works for me, doll,” he said, gently rolling you off his body and to the narrow strip of mattress free beside him.

Biting your lower lip to keep from gasping at the empty sensation when he pulled out his now-flaccid dick, you watched him rise slowly from the bed. You took possessive pleasure in viewing his naked body, thighs clenching at the sight of him stretching muscular arms up towards the ceiling with his head tipped back. The pop of his back and resulting grunt made you comment, “I think from now on we might be better off in your bed. I have no clue how we even managed to fit in mine all night.”

“Thank fucking god. If I have to spend any more nights in that fucking thing, I’ll be stiffer than a cock in a brothel.”

Rolling your eyes at his that’s-so-Negan one-liner, you pulled the sheet up over your chest and settled in to watch him get dressed. You felt a bit like a voyeur when he removed the condom, tied off the end, and tossed it into the little garbage can. You felt a lot like a voyeur when he leaned down to pick up his boxer briefs and the sight of his bent-over ass almost made you whimper out loud.

“You sure you can’t skip the meeting and stay here?” The words left your lips before your brain could even stop them.

Turning to look at you, the desire must have been written all over your face because that muscle in his jaw ticked and he ran a hand down over his beard in obvious frustration. You swore he started to take a step back towards the bed, but he caught himself and instead returned to the task of getting dressed.

When he was done putting on the navy tee and dark grey pants, complete with his signature black boots, he did finally come back over to the bed. Leaning down, he cupped a warm hand possessively around the side of your neck and placed a heated kiss on your lips before slightly pulling back and saying in that sinful, husky voice, “5 o’clock, doll. You better be ready for me.”

With that, he straightened, crossed the room, and let himself out. As the door clicked softly shut behind him, you replied with a dazed, “Yes, sir.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

#negan #negan fanfiction #negan smut #negan fanfic #negan fanfics #irresistible danger #ash writes #twd #the walking dead #negan x reader #negan x you #slow burn #twd negan #the walking dead negan

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motherofturtleducks · 4 years

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I always get a bit sad when reading a western air temple fic where the author just seemed to have completely forgotten about Haru, Teo and the Duke also being there... and I’m just... I mean I get it, people want to focus on the ‘real’ gAang! In fact the show itself doesn't give them that much attention either (although they are present most of the time the group is eating together and pop up a few other times), but that just means there's so much untapped POTENTIAL! We don't really know much about the earth boys' time living with the gAang and how they experienced it so you can let your imagination run wild!

Did Haru, Sokka and Zuko as the three oldest boys take "dangerous” hunting expeditions together that were actually more like walking aimlessly around the woods having impromptu group therapy sessions, where they talked about the guilt of getting a father (figure) locked behind bars (again)? Did Haru get his own Zuko Apology(tm) when angry boy hears where Haru’s father was locked away for years and HOW? Did Toph bully the poor boy into learning seismic sense together with Aang? Or did he volunteer to learn from her because he wanted to give Aang a break? Or because he wants to have a chance to learn something he might be able to teach his dad for once? Was he having a secret thing with Katara? Who knows!

What about our sunshine on wheels Teo? Aside from Aang he’s had the most experience living in an airtemple. Maybe he'd want to learn about statues and structures he'd always been curious about from Aang, or maybe he and Sokka stay up late at night inventing better brakes or a pulley system or a lil catapult that shoots berries right into someone's mouth from the other side of the room... Did he meet Zuko before? Did angry ponytail try to visit the NAT too? How did that go?

Teo: I know you! You tried to climb up to the temple with only a grappling hook! I saw you fall! I thought you'd died!

Zuko: I didn't know anyone was going to be there! OR THAT YOU COULD FLY!! You would be shocked too if you suddenly heard a voice calling out from empty AIR!! And like that would kill me, I only broke like 12 bones! I've had worse!

And the Duke! BABY! A bit feral but still a literal child! Does he fully understand the scale of the failed invasion? Does he know he might never see Pipsqueak again? Did anyone tell him about Jet? Does Zuko hear him talk about the freedom fighters and tell him a story about ferries and sword fights and mouth wheat? Does Katara sneak him more food because she feels guilty for lake laogai if only she could have healed Jet? Does he remind Sokka of the kids from his village he used to try and train to be warriors? Do he and Toph start a prank war that gets WAY out of hand and almost destroys another one of the temple pagodas?

Just... more of those poor boys that were just supposed to be simple one-off side characters and now got stuck with the protagonists and all their craziness for weeks!

[image ID: screenshot from 312: the Western Airtemple showing Haru, the Duke and Teo looking shocked from behind a pillar at the distruction Combustion Man caused]

#long post #this got long #today on guess what my brain wants to ramble about now #not brain chemistry that's for sure #no it's these kids #me getting hit with THOUGHTS and FEELINGS #I don't know why NOW #one minute I was looking up hormonal sturctures #the next my brain knocked on my skull #'remember that fic last week that didn't mention the earth boys at all'#'because the author had forgotten about them'#'let's ramble about it'#not saying this happens often!#I know they are pretty minor characters #there's many fics that do them justice #and not many that completely ignore them #but those few fics hurt my soul #I've read some where there’s just no mention of them at all #or they quickly threw in a line like 'the other 3 kids were exploring the all day echo chamber'#wow that sure must be a spectacular chamber since this chapter spanned like 5 days and we haven’t seen them once!#maybe someone should check to see they haven't fallen off the temple?#... I had no idea I felt this salty...#whoops #Haru #Teo #the Duke #babeees #atla #avatar the last airbender #me quacking around

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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Misread Details: Robert

CW: Dehumanizing language, BBU blanket warning, serial killer/death talk, descriptions of death/abduction/murder, blood, whumper death, some real vague implied noncon references, creepy whumper, sadistic whumper

Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert

The Dark Discovery in Robert Weber’s Basement: Box Boy Killer, Part 3

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee

3 days ago

After Part One, where we learned about the mysterious, but possibly entirely natural, death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, and Part Two, where we saw Henry “Brute” Hanlon’s double life lead to his untimely gruesome murder, you see the single thread that connects these two men who otherwise never met, interacted, or even shared a single person in common… a nameless Box Boy, present at the death of Nanda even if he isn’t responsible for it, and the proven killer of Brute.

It’s my theory that this Box Boy may have accidentally killed his legal owner, Nanda, and then picked up a taste for the act and moved on to taking shelter with those he turns into his victims.

With Brute, he simply didn’t know the man had a wife and children and entire other life, and may have assumed no one would come looking for him or recognize his death. With our third individual, Robert Weber, it seems like our Box Boy Serial Killer got in over his head.

I give you… the Accidental Vigilante death of Robert Weber.

You decide if our unknown killer is simply the unluckiest guy in the world or a killer who even now may be somewhere living with - and earning the trust of - his next victim.

One bright and sunny day in the quaint, old-fashioned California town of Rancher’s Rest, Robert Weber was late for work.

Weber worked in a vehicle repair business owned by lifelong “RR” resident Randy Niles, who had known Weber since his childhood and had been his boss since Weber was eighteen years old and fresh out of high school.

Niles, who is now nearly seventy-five and still spends his days in the shop with an Australian Shepherd named Cody and a blind pit bull named Sue keeping him company everywhere he goes, stated that Weber had no living family he knew of beyond his sister in Vermont, and he was just about the closest thing Weber had to a relative just from having known him so long.

“He didn’t have too much to do with his sister,” Randy said in an interview with Unsolved Mysteries. (You can see the interview on the new Netflix reboot of the show! It’s a really good episode, definitely recommend. It’s how I got into this case in the first place.) “Or nobody, really. Just us at work, the guys at the bar, that kinda thing. He was quiet, kept to himself really. You’d never just strike up a chat around town or anything. But he got on just fine with the boys here in the shop. He was a bit of an egghead, too, always going on about this thing or that he’d seen on the news. Little… odd. Little bit off, you might say. But really, who isn’t? In any case, you know, I’d known him since he was a little boy, so he was just Bobby Weber to me.”

Then, of course, one day Robert Weber didn’t show up to work. Randy Niles immediately felt that something was very wrong.

“When nine, nine-thirty came and went and he wasn’t there,” Niles said, “I knew someone needed to go check on him. Bobby showed up for work right on time or ten minutes early, rain or shine, for twenty years. My first thought was maybe he’d had an accident at home, or some kind of, you know, health thing. Almost never called in sick, took one vacation a year, that kinda thing. So I drove right on over there. This would’ve been, oh, probably ten or ten-fifteen when I got to the house. Had my dogs with me, and they never did like Bobby much, but as soon as I opened my door and got out of my truck they just lost their damn minds. Barking, growling, Cody’s hackles were up like you wouldn’t believe. I know it sounds damn crazy, but I’m sure those dogs could smell that evil had been done in that house.”

On camera, Niles goes quiet, here, his gaze slipping away from the interviewer as he scratches at the side of his nose. When he looks back, the hint of good humor that seems to be an eternal part of his expression is gone.

“I didn’t know what Bobby had been up to all this time. None of us knew. I’ve known Bobby Weber his whole life, and I… I had no idea.”

Randy Niles was unable to convince his two dogs to exit the truck, and eventually rolled down the windows to give them some air and a way out if they chose (he is insistent on this point in the Unsolved Mysteries episode - “don’t you dare say I left my dogs locked up in a truck on a sunny day, I sure didn’t - Cody even knows how to pull a door handle if it’s the right kind”) and got out to knock on Robert Weber’s front door.

No one answered.

Niles knocked again. Still no response.

The front door was locked, but Niles was able to locate an unlocked back door into the garage, where he found Weber’s car neatly parked and nothing out of place. However, once he used an interior door in the garage to enter Weber’s home, what he found was so shocking he still struggles to describe it today.

“The, uh. The first thing I saw,” Niles says in the Unsolved Mysteries episode, wiping at his mouth with a handkerchief, “was a cage. Big old cage in the living room. Like a kennel for a big dog, Great Dane or something, except… except, you know, kennels’re usually mostly wire, not that heavy. You can fold ‘em up, put ‘em away. This was… geez. This was pure metal. Bunch of blankets all piled at the bottom, too. Here’s the-... you know, my mind just didn’t want to even make the thought, but I just, I looked at it and-”

In the episode, Niles has to take another moment, here. His eyes grow wet, and his voice is hoarse when he speaks again. “People cage. Bobby had a damn man-sized cage in his living room. That’s when my stomach just fell out. Even then, though, I couldn’t-... I just thought, oh, well, what people get up to in their own homes is their business. But still, I just. I just decided, find Bobby, figure the rest out later. So I kept walking around looking for him.”

Randy Niles continued to call out, hoping to hear Weber’s response, but received none… at first. The radio in the kitchen was playing a local public radio station (“Bobby always hated the country western and classic rock we played at work, he was a big news man, big into classical, jazz, you know.”)

Niles noticed, he says, that the cage next to the couch had a wooden top, as though it were meant to act as a side table, and on that table was a small woven basket. Inside the basket appeared to be several State IDs and Driver’s licenses. Niles took note of this but his first assumption was maybe that Robert Weber had stolen some IDs or something.

Which was technically true, just… not quite the way he thought.

The kitchen, hallway, and all three bedrooms were equally empty of life. Every room was clean, everything neatly in place. Empty bottles of Jameson whiskey, Weber’s favorite brand, were lined up like décor along the mantel, and one half-full bottle was next to two clean, empty glasses on the kitchen table.

Even the beds were perfectly made.

The only thing missing was any sign of Robert Weber himself.

The question of Weber’s whereabouts was answered when Randy Niles heard a sound coming from the open door to Weber’s unfinished dirt basement.

“Like a ghost,” Niles said in his interview. “Just this low moaning sound. Hardly even thought of it as human, you know. But I just-... I called out, ‘Bobby? That you?’ and the moaning got a little louder, like whoever it was was tryin’ to answer. I could still hear my girls in the truck just going nuts, probably worried about me knowing what they maybe could smell even out there. I figured… I figured I’d best call the cops and get them out here. Seemed like a plan. So I picked up my phone and dialed, and then I headed down those basement steps.”

What Randy Niles discovered in Robert Weber’s basement was a dying man, battered and stabbed eight times, lying in a half-dug grave.

Robert Weber had been beaten with the very shovel that had done the digging. The shovel lay off to the side, caked in dirt and blood. Police would find some of Robert Weber’s hair on it, too. Then, the individual who had beaten him had gone back upstairs - blood smears were found on the railing to the stairs - and taken a kitchen knife out of the knife block on the countertop. A bloody fingerprint was found on the side of the knife block. They had then returned to the basement where Weber was stabbed, almost entirely through the stomach and chest, twenty-six times, until the cheap knife simply broke from the force.

Randy Niles admitted in his interview that he became very ill at this time. “From the shock,” He elaborated. “I haven’t been able to smell much since I was in a car wreck when I was young, so I didn’t smell what-... what my girls prob’ly smelled from outside, and what the cops smelled. To me, it was just… just a little off, is all. It was the sight of it that got to me, not the smell. The sight of the-... the hand.”

Behind Robert Weber’s body, the hand of another person was sticking up out of the loose dirt, as though someone was trying to dig their way out.

“I remember… I remember her nail polish was pink. That’s when I got sick, actually, was when I saw that hand with the painted nails. That’s when it just hit me all at once what Bobby had done.”

Randy Niles went back up the stairs and waited for the cops to arrive. Rancher’s Rest is a small town where everybody knows just about everybody else, and Niles was on a first-name basis with every single police officer he spoke to that day and in the days after. He would learn alongside the investigation that Robert Weber was not simply the quiet, intellectual car mechanic he had always seemed.

Instead, Robert Weber was a serial killer whose potential final victim had managed a miraculous, deadly escape.

Robert Weber never answered a single question about his own murder - he never fully regained consciousness and died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. His injuries were simply too severe. His autopsy showed that the cause of death was a stab wound that went deep into his chest and that he was first stabbed only after the beating with the shovel had taken place. Like Brute, most of his stab wounds were applied post-mortem in a rage rather than as part of the killing itself.

Medical examiners also found scratches on Weber’s face and arms, indicating that he had attempted to defend himself - or someone else had attempted to defend themself from him.

So why was Robert Weber killed, and why was there already a body in his basement? Investigators would piece together the story over the following days and weeks from a crime scene that only seemed to become darker and more baffling as time went on.

Excavating the basement was originally thought to be something that would be brief, but after the first body was removed, another one was found beneath it. Then another off to the side of that. And another, although this was simply bones.

Every time the forensics team thought they’d found the last human bone, they dug a little deeper or in a new spot and found more.

Eventually, the remains of twenty-two individuals would be removed from the basement of Robert Weber’s home, not including Weber himself. The oldest located victim was identified as Melinda Traxson, an Iowa woman reported missing by her family after she ran away in March of 1996… more than two decades before Robert Weber didn’t come to work one day.

Investigators are still working to match up every body with a missing persons’ case. For nearly all of them, the cause of death could not be easily ascertained due to the deterioration of the remains, but some showed signs of skull fractures. Identified individuals so far include:

Melinda Traxson, 19, from Iowa, ran away from home in 1996.

Billie Mortimer, 21, disappeared from a day out with friends at Lake Tahoe one year later in the summer of 1997. Her friends went to get lunch from the car after a swim and when they returned, she was gone.

Matthew Ranger, 22, went missing during a road trip to Yellowstone National Park in 1997 (only five months after Billie). His car was found abandoned by the side of the road with a flat tire.

Karl Janssen, 24, a tourist from the Netherlands who was also visiting Yellowstone, disappeared a month after Matthew. Last seen by an employee of the park who witnessed him speaking with another young man and getting into the man’s car. The employee said that the two seemed to be friendly with one another and did not seem like strangers.

Hannah Pointer, 26. She was reported missing in 1999 by her mother after failing to return home from work in Reno, Nevada. This disappearance occurred more than a year after Karl Janssen’s. Investigators would later discover that during this time period, Robert Weber dated a young woman from his hometown and he may not have wanted to risk her finding out what he was doing.

Isaac Jackson, 26, a Rancher’s Rest resident who disappeared after going out to a local bar to see his friend’s band play in 2000. His car was found submerged in a small pond two years later. This is the first time Weber apparently killed anyone close to home. He was actually briefly suspected in Jackson’s death, as he was the last person noted to see Jackson alive, but was cleared of suspicion at the time.

Dustin Swill, 21, who was driving from Colorado to California to visit his sister who had moved to Berras to work for WRU in 2001. He was last seen in a gas station near Yellowstone, where employees noted he spoke to a man who was smoking outside, who gave him a cigarette. When Swill left, employees saw the man put out his cigarette and leave shortly after. They did not find this unusual or noteworthy at the time.

Maria Vargas, 25, a Rancher’s Rest resident who was reported missing in 2002. Her family is intensely private and have shared few details about her, but it is known that her boyfriend at the time suspected Weber, who had attempted to convince her to leave the boyfriend for him and had apparently threatened her. He remained a suspect but there was never enough evidence to charge him.

Jennifer Striker, 28, from who never arrived for an appointment with a realtor in 2011. The long pause between Maria Vargas’s murder and Jennifer’s appeared to be due to Weber keeping a man named Finn Schneider within his home for more than a year after abducting him, as well as Weber serving five years in prison for a violent assault on a man he believed had sold him a defective vehicle. (Schneider was no longer in the home before the assault and prison time.)

Riley Nievelt, 25, was staying at the Big Meadow Campground with six friends during a weeklong vacation in 2012. She vanished while on a trip to purchase supplies. Her cell phone was found on the ground in the parking lot of the Food Lion in Rancher’s Rest, a short and easy drive away. At this time, with multiple individuals vanishing after being seen in Rancher’s Rest or being residents of the town, police begin to suspect and start hunting for a possible serial killer.

Alexander Peterson, 29, was a long-haul driver who vanished while working. He was last seen at a rest stop in 2014 on the California/Nevada state line, and would likely have passed right through Rancher’s Rest on his journey. He was reported missing by his ex-wife in South Dakota when he did not return as scheduled for a custodial visit.

The most recent victim, and owner of the hand that Randy Niles saw sticking up out of the dirt, was Yolanda Pierce, 26. She was a Rancher’s Rest resident with a troubled relationship with her husband, who had stormed out after an argument and was never seen again. She is believed to have died the same day as Robert Weber.

More remains exist but have not yet been identified. If you or anyone you know has a friend or family member who went missing during this time period in or near Rancher’s Rest, Yellowstone National Park, or Death Valley, it may be worth looking into, as those appear to be Robert Weber’s “hunting grounds”.

Disappearances in Yellowstone and Death Valley almost always matched up with Robert taking one of his rare weeklong vacations from work.

When investigators located three large diaries hidden inside a locked box in Weber’s closet, the first two fully filled up and the third nearly two-thirds finished, they found an exhaustively detailed record of Robert Weber’s crimes.

In these records, they discovered Weber’s first three victims were killed within 24 hours of abduction, with the rest being kept alive for longer and longer time periods. It is believed all of them met their end in Robert Weber’s basement.

Diary entries included records of two victims who were not a part of the bodies buried in Weber’s basement, both of whom may still be alive:

Finn Schneider, 19, a German tourist who disappeared in 2003 during a visit to Death Valley. Until Weber’s journals were found, it was believed he had perished in the park and had simply never been found. Robert Weber also visited Death Valley during this time. No one linked the two together. Evidence found in Weber’s home after his death, including the aforementioned diary entries and photographs, shows that Schneider was alive in Weber’s home for nearly sixteen months. It is believed Weber purchased the “human cage” that Randy Niles noticed around this time. The last diary entry that mentions Schneider states that he was “traded” on June 16th, 2005, to an individual only referred to as “Mouse.” What Weber received in exchange is unclear, but he was seen driving a new, custom-painted truck around this time, which he said he bought “from a personal ad” when asked by Niles about it. Schneider has never been found. However, his mother did receive a phone call in 2013 from an individual she believes to be her son, telling her that “Finn” was okay and to stop looking for him.

Our Box Boy, 334235, purchased by Nathaniel Benson years prior, whose whereabouts had been unknown since he murdered Brute Hanlon. Weber believed the Box Boy to be in his early twenties, according to his diary entries, and mentioned that he had picked the Boxie up hitchhiking and had intended to kill him before seeing the barcode on the inside of his left wrist and changing his mind. His diary suggests the Box Boy remained in his possession for roughly a fourteen months prior to Weber’s murder. Police have not released the details of what the Boxie was subjected to during this time, stating only that it is not the public’s interest for this information to be known, and they would like to locate the missing Boxie and interview him about certain details.

Four murders occurred during the time the Boxie was kept by Robert Weber. Weber noted that “the dog helped” with either murder or burial, suggesting that he may have worked as Weber’s accomplice in his terrible crimes.

Is it possible that they bonded over a shared urge to kill? Did the Boxie start a captive and become a companion?

Weber’s diary contained other disturbing facts, as well:

Weber also noted three failed abduction attempts in detail, in 1998, 2004, and 2017. In each he described with incredible precision of memory the appearances and descriptions of each person he failed to capture. He also appeared to do intensive research using their license plates and other information to find out where they lived and who they were. The names of these individuals have been kept quiet for privacy reasons.

Other failed abductions were noted, about one per year, without much detail. Or at least not enough for police officers to know who they were. Nearly all these failures were in one of three locations: Yellowstone National Park, Stanislaus National Forest and nearby campgrounds, and in or near Death Valley.

The last entry in Robert Weber’s diary was penned the day of his death.

NOTE: Weber referred to the Boxie as “the dog” in nearly all his journal entries. His last entry went:

May 6th, 20XX: The dog is pissed about something again. He’s always pissed about something. I think the thing in the basement probably kept him up all night with her caterwauling. He never gets used to the noises they make. God knows I can’t sleep either, at least not well. I’ll handle her tonight, have a drink with the dog after, see if that shuts up his nonsense for a while. Note: missed NPR interview with Senator Carlotta Grant on new leg. about the bb prohibition act. Find that on website later.

Found in Weber’s home, in boxes under his bed, were a series of restraints made of leather, high-quality items that appear to be custom-ordered to specific measurements. These included “gloves” intended to keep someone from being able to claw or scratch in their own defense, five sets of cuffs, a body harness, a leather half-face-mask that police referred to as a “muzzle”, several gags, some of which were deemed to be “designed to cause injury to the inside of the mouth”, and “other assorted items for use in torture and torment”.

You can find some leaked police docs online that go into more detail, but suffice to say they pretty much match the kinds of “toys” found in Nathaniel Benson and Brute Hanlon’s homes, too. And apparently, if you really know where to look, you can find some blurry low-quality photos Weber took, too.

While the items are a bit salacious, they aren’t entirely uncommon in consensual relationships, too, so it’s really not clear if they’re evidence of the Boxie being held against his will or not.

The investigation of the crime scene suggests that at some point after writing his final diary entry, Robert Weber made himself a pizza, which he ate half of and put the rest away in the fridge. His shaving cream and razor were found out on his sink, and Weber’s body was clean-shaven, suggesting he shaved shortly before his death.

He then watched three episodes of Law & Order: SVU. We know this because he texted during this time with his only living relative, the sister in Vermont. Little is known about Weber’s family and childhood, beyond his sister’s recounting of a quiet, strained home life with an overbearing mother and her mention that Robert endured several head injuries as a child and adolescent, including one that hospitalized him for days.

After he finished watching TV, Weber entered the basement and murdered Yolanda Pierce. It is believed he took the Box Boy downstairs with him, either as accomplice or witness. At some point while he was disposing of Yolanda Pierce’s remains, the Boxie became enraged for one reason or another, beat him with a shovel, got the kitchen knife from upstairs and stabbed him to death, and then left the house.

A neighbor remembers hearing odd noises around 3:30 AM and looking out their window to see a shadowy figure walking quickly down the road, but they weren’t able to see well enough to say whether or not the individual matches the description and WRU-provided photos of the Boxie. It does seem reasonable, though, to assume that the neighbor witnessed the Boxie fleeing the scene of the crime.

The Box Boy has never been seen again.

Police are pretty mum about the active investigation into the Box Boy’s whereabouts. I was able to get ahold of one source closely related to a member of the investigative team who said that there’s just not a lot of urgency. “Weber killed nearly two dozen people, just that we know of,” The source said. “The cops are a little bit ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ about the situation. Unless the Boxie comes back to RR, they’re just inclined to let sleeping dogs lie.”

The sense of “let it be someone else’s problem” would be understandable… if this Box Boy weren’t responsible for one other direct murder, possibly two.

Police believe the Boxie has not left California, and is likely to be continuing to survive by engaging in prostitution or perhaps panhandling or some other hidden way of making money. Unconfirmed sightings have been located in three cities in central California, but all of these are unverified and should be taken with a grain of salt.

It’s also possible he hooked up with a pet liberation movement group, in which case he may be hiding out in a safehouse, protected from the consequences of his actions by the pet lib movement’s understandable insistence on total secrecy and anonymity for the Boxies they take in.

If he’s an innocent victim of circumstance, that’s fair.

If he’s a burgeoning serial killer with three victims under his belt and a taste for inflicting terrible violence on those who take him in… well… anyone who gives him shelter may be next.

Is our Boxie a purposeful killer or just supremely, almost incomprehensibly unlucky? Will he kill again? Was he Robert Weber’s accomplice or his victim?

Will he strike again?

Should there be an audit of WRU’s psychological testing on potential sign-ups to see if, perhaps, a Box Boy-wannabe with an urge to kill slipped through the cracks?

What do you think?

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary

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anime-alyssa · 3 years

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purple scars. (d ragnvindr x reader)

i posted this on ao3 and forgot to move it here - so you get it super long and not 2 in parts. i’m thinking of continuing this, maybe?

thanks for reading and the support! i’m working on a xiao rn hopefully i can get my shit together

warning: contains some emotional trauma, implied r*pe but nothing is overly graphic. the second half is smut, separated by stars if thats what you want to skip to.

The bitter cold of Dragonspire finally started to fade away as you crossed over the bridge back into Mondstat for the first time in 10 years. You were bundled up to the extreme, having prepared for the cold, your sword on your back and jacket heavy on your shoulders. Your sword and your jacket were all you managed to steal away before you were able to escape your homeland, Inazuma. You were still dressed in the encampment clothes, your ID number splayed across the chest of the shirt and the boots too big for your feet.

You hadn’t wanted to be gone for 10 years - you wanted to only be gone for a few, to get your Electro under control. But when Baal placed borders around the country and started hunting down anyone with a Vision, life had become a living hell. You were placed in a prison camp and locked away from society shortly after, tortured beyond anything imaginable just for being born with a Vision. The only thing that kept you alive was the hope that one day, if you had gotten strong enough, you would be able to escape Inazuma to head back to Diluc, and Mondstat - were you really felt at home.

Diluc Ragnvindr was a mystery to everybody, except for you. You found yourself more often than not sneaking onto Dawn Winery’s premises when his father was not around and exploring each other’s bodies, like the horny teens that you had been. Sometimes you thought you could still feel the ghost of his fingertips on your skin at night - and tried to imagine that it was him when the Bakufu would do unspeakable things to you and the other prisoners. It was painful, and left you scarred - would Diluc even want you?

It had been 10 years - you had last seen him when you were merely 16 and he was entering the Knights of Favonius. The two of you fell in love as teenagers - no one expected it to be anything beyond that, but the two of you were convinced otherwise at the time. For you, it was still the same - you thought of Diluc every single day while you were in Inazuma. You could remember the day like it was yesterday - his heartbroken eyes, the cries you let out as you told him that you would be leaving, the way he held onto you.

“I’ll be back - I promise - I just - I need help that I can’t get here.” you sobbed into his chest. The Pyro users warmth was all around you as he held you in his room at Dawn Winery, his father out for the night, leaving the two of you bare in his bed.

“You better come back, or else I’ll go to Inazuma myself to get you.” his eyes looked down at you and your heart broke at the sight of him - Diluc was never a vulnerable person, but right now he was. One of his thumbs stroked your tears away on your cheeks as his lips peppered kisses up your neck. “I will never forget you. Ever.”

“Neither will I.” you said with a gasp, as Diluc had given you a night to never forget.

You had officially reached the other side of the bridge - the cold gone away and the warmth coming back to you. You thought about taking the jacket off, now way too hot with it on, but you didn’t want people to know where you had come from. You didn’t want their pity. There was a small camp with other adventurers and travelers around, the chef offering you food for free before you went on your way. It didn’t do much for you to quell the aching hunger you had and the shaky legs - you weren’t really the best fed and had been surviving off of fruit from trees. In short, you were in no condition to be traveling, clearly sickly and unwell. But you were not stopping now - you couldn’t. Not after all that you had overcome. You hadn’t forgotten about him.

A series of snarls from the side of you caused you to jump as you saw about four hilichurls coming right for you. You shrugged the jacket off and grabbed your sword, standing your guard as the monsters attacked. You fought them tooth and nail until your vision all but blacked out - you had hit the ground and heard someone calling for you.

“Hello? Wake up - Lumine - she needs help! Hey, wait - that’s an Inazuma camp uniform!” a high-pitched voice said to you. Your vision slowly came back as you saw a floating - fairy? You didn’t know what she was - but she was floating above you looking concerned next to a young blonde teenager. “Are you okay?”

“I - I don’t know. Need food - water - Di -” you managed to weakly say, feeling your world spin around you. The blonde teenager ran to the water source across from you - a lake? - to get you a drink of water as the fairy thing fished out something for you to eat. You felt like you were going to die - you were starving, dehydrated, but Diluc, you needed to get to Diluc.

“Here’s some water! Drink this, please.” she said to you kindly. You took the cup and quickly chugged the water, then taking the offered food. “My name is Lumine, and this is Paimon.” You gave them your name back, as they seemed trustworthy, as they sat down next to you and watched you. Paimon looked at you with sad eyes, seeing your uniform.

“Thank you very much. It’s been…. a while since I ate anything. All I have is this.” you said to them, continuing to eat. You were already feeling better, but by the way they were looking at you, you could tell that you were still quite a sight.

“You’re welcome - did you escape Inazuma? Paimon and Lumine were actually trying to find a way to sneak in.” Paimon had announced to you. You froze on the spot and looked up to them.

“What - no. Don’t go there. It’s dangerous - the camps - ” You felt panic start to bubble in your chest, your heart-rate increasing and breathing becoming staggered at the flashes of memories that flooded your mind. Paimon started calling out to you again, trying to calm you. She and Lumine had started to talk amongst themselves, looking at you trying to calm yourself as they made attempts to as well. You tried to remember Diluc - what you could of him, and slowly you were able to calm down. “I’m sorry - it’s just - it’s awful. I was there for 10 years, I was a prisoner.” You sat in an awkward silence before Paimon spoke up again.

“Hey - Paimon remembers that when you were talking earlier, you almost sounded like you were saying someone’s name.” she said to you.

“I’m - I’m looking for Diluc Ragnvindr of Mondstat - the Knights - or Dawn Winery - I don’t know where he is, actually. When I left, he was joining the Knights.” you said to them with a sudden hope that you hadn’t felt in years. Even in your journey, you hadn’t felt hopeful. There was always the chance of the Bakufu finding you and bringing you back or dying. But suddenly, you felt some hope.

“Oh - Master Diluc! Paimon didn’t know he used to be with the Knights of Favonius - that explains why he dislikes them so much now - but he does run Dawn Winery now!” Paimon said, floating happily. She paused for a moment - then looked like some gears had clicked in her head. “Wait a minute - you’re Master Diluc’s lost love!!”

“His what?” You asked. Lost love? Was that what the rumor was? But wait - if there was even a rumor, that meant there was potential that he still cared about you - still thought of you.

“What Paimon means to say is that Kaeya told us stories about when Diluc was… not like he is now. That he used to be much happier - and it was because of you.” the blonde traveler said to you.

“What - what do you mean? He��s changed?” You wanted to slap yourself - obviously he changed, it’s been years. But they made it seem like he was completely different - and he left the Knights? When Diluc was younger it was all he wanted to do, so he could protect people and help them. What had changed? You assumed you would find out.

“Paimon thinks we should take you to him to find out - Kaeya made it seem like you knew him better than anyone, so you would know more. Let’s go check Dawn Winery to see if he is there!” she said happily. You gave her a nod as you shakily stood up, feeling like you had a little bit more energy and walked with the traveler and her companion.

You learned about her on the way there. She woke up on the beach with no memory, but knew she was not from Tevyat. Her twin brother was missing and she was in search of The Seven to see if maybe that would be a way for her to find him, which explained why she wanted to go to Inazuma despite your warnings. But, she was Vision-less - a fact that shocked you as you could have sworn you vaguely remember her using Anemo during the fight. That little factoid made you feel a little better.

As you approached Dawn Winery, your stomach started twisting into knots. All of your anxieties came flooding back - would Diluc even want you still? Would he be appalled at the state of you? Would he be able to handle the extra baggage you came with now? Your mind reeled at Paimon babbled on about how maybe you would be good for Diluc to be happy, and how she was looking forward to the food the winery always had for them. You felt yourself fidgeting with the jacket, having put it back on to cover your uniform.

You saw his red hair from a mile away and froze in your steps. He had gotten taller, but god he looked the same. He pulled his hair back like he always had, muscles built out over the years. He couldn’t see you yet, talking to someone else across from him at the entrance of the winery. Lumine stayed by your side, the teenager having a big heart and concerned. However, Paimon floated on over to him.

“Master Diluc! Master Diluc! Paimon and Lumine have someone who was looking for you!” she said excitedly. You couldn’t help but admire the creature’s happiness, despite your nerves. You and Lumine walked forward as Diluc turned around - eyes going wide seeing you. Your breath hitched in your throat as you two made eye contact. It felt like all air in your lungs had just disappeared and you were unable to breathe.

Diluc slowly stepped towards you at first, not being able to believe his eyes. You could tell he was taking you in, observing your features and you to make sure that it really was you. You didn’t blame him for taking his time - you were unrecognizable from before. Your features had thinned out due to the years of neglect from the Bakufu, eyes sunken slightly inward and skin paled. You saw a flash of doubt flash in his eyes - or at least that’s what your brain wanted you to think - and you let out a sob. That seemed to do it for him as Diluc ran over to you in a flash, pushing anybody out of his way to wrap his arms around you.

It finally felt like you were home, in Diluc’s arms as he held you. More sobs wrecked your now trembling body, overcome with emotion as tears spilled onto his clothing. His grip on you was snug, but not too tight, treating you like you were glass and frail. He was warm, as he always was, while he held onto you like you’d disappear into thin air if he let go. You felt your knees give out, exhaustion starting to hit you, Diluc picking you up to support you. You tried to say something - to say anything to him, but the shaking and the exhaustion was becoming to much and eventually, you blacked out in his arms.

——

You woke up on a comfortable bed - so comfortable it almost didn’t feel right. You were sunk into one side with the blankets over you, body bare underneath. Had Diluc been the one to take your clothes off - did he see your scars? Your body suddenly felt good - there was no aching, you suddenly felt healthy? If that was the word for it. You shuffled in the bed, making an attempt to sit up, before you were promptly pushed back down.

“Lay down - please.” Diluc spoke to you. You turned your gaze over to him, laying next to you, half asleep and half dressed. You covered yourself underneath the blankets as he threw an arm over you, pulling you close to him despite trying to hide. “Don’t do that. Stop trying to hide from me.”

“Diluc - I’m - I’m not the same.” you stammered out. You felt his fingers dance over your bare skin and you gasped, instinctively jumping back. He retreated his touch upon seeing this, examining you again. “I’m sorry.”

“What did they do to you?” he asked. Panic bubbled inside of you once more as you tried to find the words to speak. You wanted to tell him everything. He deserved to know everything if he was still going to be with you. But for some reason, you couldn’t find the words. “Did the Bafuku do this - give you these?” His fingers grazed over the discolored scars on your body, purple marks from Electro attacks embedded into your skin forever.

“Yes - they would - they punished us when we fought back. All of us - but the females - they would - they’d come at night - ” Diluc let out a low snarl, understanding what you were implying without actually having to say it. “I tried to imagine it was you. Thinking of you is the only thing that kept me alive most days. It was awful - once Baal placed the orders to capture everyone with Visions, they found me in days. The painful part was that I was right at Liyue’s border - I was so close to getting out. That’s when I got this one.” You lifted your left arm, pointing to a series of purple numbers on your wrist.

“I don’t want to hear where they came from. It only makes me angrier that the damn Knights of Favonius didn’t even try to do anything to help.” Diluc said, cautiously wrapping a bare arm around you, testing the waters. You allowed him the contact - knowing that you were safe. You were safe with Diluc. You just needed to convince your brain the same thing, which would take time that he didn’t seem to mind. “It’s the middle of the night, let’s go back to bed. You need rest.” he said to you.

You gave Diluc a quick nod as you found yourself inching closer to his chest, resting your head on him. He was warm, as always, wrapping his arms completely around you and pulling you onto him. He never used to be one who liked someone on top of him, even you, and you had respected that - but now it seems like he wasn’t going to ever let you go again.

You didn’t mind as you attempted to fall into a dreamless sleep - but you were unlucky. Diluc was out in five minutes flat, but every time you tried to close your eyes flashes of the past would come back to haunt you. You weren’t sure if you got a wink of rest at all, until you found Diluc looking down at you, the sun out behind him. Your throat was dry and your face was wet. Had you had a nightmare? You weren’t sure if you had, since you weren’t even sure if you had fallen asleep at all.

“It’s just me - you’re okay. You were having a nightmare, I think.” he said, trying to say it in his calmest voice he could possibly muster. You blinked up at him confused.

“I - I don’t remember.” you said sadly, racking your brain to see if you could remotely remember, but having no such luck. Your brain was telling you that it didn't want you to remember, you think.

“You were screaming in your sleep. Almost shocked me, actually.” he said, throwing a light-hearted chuckle in at the end. You were not amused though, staring at him with wide eyes as you sat up slowly.

“I did? Are you okay?” you asked him. He looked at you like you had ten heads, confusing you until he spoke next.

“What - are you okay?”

“I think that answer is obvious enough.” You replied plainly. Diluc’s hand went to your chin, bringing your gaze to match his. His thumb lovingly and gently ran across your jawline, and you instinctively leaned into his touch. Slowly, you climbed up onto his lap, and he allowed you the comfort. “I think - I think I’ll be okay now, though. It’s just going to take some time.” You nuzzled yourself back into his chest as he hugged you snuggly, a hum leaving his lips.

“I’ll be here with you until it is, I swear it.” Diluc pressed a soft kiss on your forehead and you knew then that he meant it just like he did 10 years before.

*********************************************************************************

Slowly but surely, you started to heal, and it was all thanks to Diluc. The nightmares started to slowly fade away and with time, you were feeling happy again. You lived with him at Dawn Winery and took on some responsibilities to earn your keep (though Diluc always insisted that you didn’t need to do so), like helping the staff keep the place running and making sure that Diluc was on time to everything he needed to be. Which was a challenge, especially once you started to feel like your old self again (or what you could of your old self).

“One of these days, Charles is going to quit and then you’ll be stuck!” you said to him from on top of his desk, his lips on your neck as you let out a sigh. You weren’t quite mentally ready for much more intimacy, and he was okay with that, but you slowly had become re-accustomed to more touches. Diluc was letting you take the reins for what you were ready for and what you weren’t.

“He threatens to quit every day. He never does.” Diluc spoke against your skin, grunting as you finally pushed him away - and just in time, as Charles walked in to look for him. You hopped off and ran to find Adeline to see if she needed any help. Later on that day, you saw Charles again and he said that Diluc had been in a particularly angry mood for the past few hours. With a sigh, you had hunted him down, finding him in your bedroom.

“What’s wrong? Charles is going around saying you’re angry.” you said to him. Your partner let out a scoff as he turned back around to you, your eyes immediately going to his middle. You bit back a laugh.

“Don’t.” he hissed through gritted teeth, face burning as you stepped closer to him.

“It’s like you’re sixteen again.” you said with a small giggle. Before he could protest, you had him backed against the wall and his pants shoved down, solving the problem yourself. Charles saw you before he left for the night and had said Diluc was in a much better mood the rest of the day.

You had found out about Diluc’s night-time hero work as The Darknight Hero a week or two after you had returned. Originally, you fought him tooth and nail against it, for selfish reasons - but once he explained what had happened to him over the past 10 years, you gave it a rest and let him go on. With the death of his father and everything that had happened with the Knights and his brother afterward, you almost couldn’t blame him.

He had put a pause on it when you came back, but people started to talk and worry, and the Abyss Order picked up on it. He had to begin it again, and you worried every single night. Tonight in particular, he had been gone almost all night, and you were starting to worry. It was an hour or two more than what he was usually out, and you were alone in the Winery with your thoughts. To make things worse, it was storming outside so you couldn’t go out to look for him even if you wanted to.

A crack of thunder caused panic to rush through your chest - it sounded too much like Bakufu punishment for your comfort. You were snuggled under blankets, bringing your knees to your chest as you tried to push the memories away - another crack making an involuntary whimper leave your lips as the shakes came on. You hadn’t panicked like this in months - but the conditions of the storm and Diluc being gone for longer than he said brought it on, and you were nearly unable to control it.

The door opened and you jumped, not paying any mind to whoever it was that walked through the door as you fought to keep the memories at bay - flashes of them coming through in segments. You heard a curse and then running as you steadied some of your breathing, a hand coming to your face and forcing you to look at your lover. He wrapped his arm around you and brought you close to him, letting you soak up his warmth.

“You’re okay - you’re okay.” Diluc chanted to you softly. You nodded against his chest as you wrapped yourself around him back, his hand gently rubbing your back. He was right - you were okay. “I tried to get back as soon as I could after the weather rolled in, I’m sorry it took so long.” he apologized from above you.

“It’s okay.” you mumbled into him.

“No it’s not. I know how it gets - I should have known better.” he pressed a kiss to your hair after he spoke, guilt starting to rise up. Diluc had been overly cautious when it came to you since your return - within days he had memorized anything that sent you into a panic and was there to prevent it from happening. Until today, that is, hence the guilt. You let out a sigh as you relaxed into him.

“I know you want to protect me, but you can’t always do it, on top of everything else. I’ll be okay.” you said to him, taking your head out of his chest and bringing your lips to his.

He slowly reciprocated once his mind caught up to his body - realizing that you were initiating, something that hadn’t happened yet since you came back. His arms around you tightened as the kiss became deeper and more passionate, from a tiny little peck to open mouthed pants. Diluc was almost struggling to keep up with you, mind telling him to slow down for you but body betraying him, his need for you coming to the surface.

Diluc almost lost his mind when he had dragged you closer to him and heard a soft moan leave your lips as you landed on top of the tent in his pants. The moan seemed to be the signal that flipped the switch in Diluc’s head, as he flipped the two of you over, placing your back on the mattress as he towered above you.

“Are - are you sure?” Diluc asked, needing your complete consent before he went any further. A selfish part of him was hoping you’d say yes, but if you were to say no, he’d have no problem getting off you right now and going on with his night. It was all about if you were ready.

“Yes. Please Diluc.” you said back quietly. It was his turn to let out a moan at your begging for him as his lips went to your neck, softly leaving pecks up and down both sides.

“You tell me if anything - anything - is too much.” he spoke against your skin, coming back up to make sure that you understood. Diluc felt his cock twitch in his pants seeing your blissed out face, lust clouded over you from him. You let out a weak nod before he went back down with more vigor, sucking marks into your neck for all to see.

Fighting back wasn’t a thought in your mind as your body grew hot, clothes suddenly feeling restricting and your core in need of some friction. You hadn’t needed anybody in years, but right now, you needed him. Everything felt so right as his gloved fingertips pushed your shirt off your body, exposing your chest to him. The cool air made you shiver, but was soon replaced with the warmth of Diluc’s mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses to all the skin he could reach.

You managed to get Diluc to shrug his jacket off once you started to push it over his shoulders, pulling at his gloves next and discarding those. His mouth went back to its attack on your chest, finding one of your breasts and gently beginning to tug. A moan left your mouth as you tried to remember that your next mission was to get his shirt off. Your body was giving into him more and more as sparks of pleasure started to zoom through your veins and down to your core, slick starting to pool.

“Diluc…” you moaned out his name lustfully, spurring him on more. He pulled away from your nipple with a pop, panting as he almost ripped the rest of his shirt off his arms before going back down to pay attention to the other nipple. You continued to cry out, twisting underneath him as you filled with more and more need.

You felt his hands moving down your stomach, one resting on your hip while the other tucked under the waistband of your pants. For a moment, your mind started to reel and your heart raced - flashes of the past coming in. You were able to remember that you were with Diluc - you were safe, and you wanted him. Diluc noticed, immediately popping off you and gazing up at you.

“Should I - ”

“Don’t you dare stop.” you said, cutting him off. Throwing your arms around his neck, you brought his lips down to meet yours as he quickly continued what he was doing. Fingers dipped between your folds slowly, toying with your sensitive bud and making you moan against his mouth. With a small grunt back, Diluc slid two of his fingers into you slowly, beginning to pump. You sighed out his name as your hips ground into him, his lips moving back towards your neck as he panted against you.

“You’re so fucking perfect, baby.” he breathed against you, hips rutting against your thigh. You used your free hands to push your pants off, kicking them down your legs and leaving you completely exposed. The purple scars on your body reflected with the lightning outside the window and the candle light on the bedside while your body twitched with desire. Another moan left your lips as his fingers curled up into you, his thumb circling your bud making your walls tremble. “I need you. I need you.” he chanted into your neck, trying to use his freehand to fumble with his pants to push them down.

“Diluc…” you moaned as you started to meet his pumps, fucking yourself on his fingers trying to chase a high that you felt coming.

“I need to be inside you. Let me - I need it.” he stammered, continuing to finger fuck you until you said yes. You let out a cry as you felt yourself nearing the edge, body hot and sweat collecting on your skin. “Please baby - let me - ”

“Diluc, yes - fuck - ” As soon as the words left your mouth, he pulled his fingers out of you and finished pulling his pants down, kicking them off and letting them fall to the floor. You let out a whine at the loss before Diluc leaned down to kiss you again, gently using his knees to spread your legs wider and his hand that was in you to line his cock up with you. Nerves started to kick in ever so slightly, surpassing the need as you spoke out. “Be - slow - please.” you managed to say.

“Of course.” he said back, putting his lips back on yours as Diluc pushed the head of his cock into your hole. He let out a moan into your mouth, checking your face for any signs of discomfort before pushing in more. A whine left your lips at the feeling of being split open - it had been so long since you had someone inside of you that it almost felt like the first time again. Diluc pressed kisses to you, as some form of a distraction, as he continued to seethe himself inside until eventually, he was all the way in. “Okay?” he asked, bringing his gaze back up to yours. Diluc looked like he was absolutely holding back, restraining himself because you had asked. His face was red and he was panting above you already, heart racing with desire.

“Ye - yeah.” you said back to him. He let out a groan before he kissed you again, not moving inside just yet. His lips were warm against yours, swollen from all of the other kisses he had given you so far. Diluc wrapped his arms around you and brought you close to him, pressing your bodies together as you felt your need re-awaken. Your body was on edge, having him inside you but not moving - and you needed him yet again. “Diluc - you can move - please.” you begged.

“Fuck, yes.” he groaned into your mouth as slowly he started to rock his hips into yours, cock sliding in and out of you with ease. When he started moving, everything from before fully woke up again and you felt your muscles start to tense up, gripping onto his shoulders desperately as your moans started to fill the air. He took that as signal to start going faster and eventually, he started thrusting harder, with more purpose. A cry left your lips at the change of pace, feeling your body react by trying to move your hips to meet his.

“Faster Diluc - please faster.” you cried out. Your lover let out a loud moan at your plea, hiking your legs over his shoulders as he fucked into you harder, cock curving up inside you and hitting the spot that had you crying out his name. You started to shake under him, a warmth pooling in you that felt like it was about to bubble over. Diluc took your lips in his again, drinking up your moans as he pounded himself into you, the bed creaking and the sound of his hips meeting yours filling the room. You felt his cock growing harder inside of you with every thrust, your resolve close to breaking. “D - Diluc - Diluc!” you cried, tears streaming down your cheeks as pleasure started to overcome you.

“So good - you’re so good to me - so - perfect - fuck!” he said to you in a haze, a wanton moan leaving his lips as he felt your walls start to flutter around his cock. You let out a cry as you felt yourself nearly there - the pressure was bubbling and you were about to snap as the length of Diluc’s cock hit you right every time, his moans music to your ears and making your insides shutter. “Ah - ah - come for me, baby - come for me!” Diluc begged, now chasing a release by making you get to yours. You let out a whine - feeling yourself getting towards that edge - then a scream, feeling Diluc bring his hand down between your bodies to start rubbing at your clit. “Fuck you’re gonna - come - come!” he moaned.

“Diluc - Diluc - I’m - fuck!” you screamed out his name as white hot pleasure took over your body, feeling your walls finally clench down on him inside of you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your heard as you kept moaning, body arching against his and core still convulsing as Dilic continued to fuck you, now with a pace near brutal that had your orgasm being wrung out, overstimulation nearing. “Di - Diluc - ” you stammered as his fingers rubbed harder on your spent nub.

“Fuck - I’m - I’m gonna cum - so hard - inside - baby - ” Diluc let out one last loud moan as his hips slapped against yours, his cock twitching inside of you as his seed buried itself deep. He let out moans as he bucked his hips up into you, your twitching core milking his cock as he all but collapsed on top of you. “Fuck -” he breathed out into your neck, dragging your hips close again so he could keep pumping his high in your body.

You felt spent - exhausted. Eventually, you felt his cock stop twitching inside of you and Diluc pulled out, collapsing next to you. He brought the blankets over your bodies and pulled you close to him, pressing kisses to your temple.

“Are you okay?” he asked you. You turned to look at him, eyes wide with concern. You gave him a smile and pressed a kiss to his lips. Even after all that, he was still worried about you. You could argue that's what you loved most about him - that under the facade of not caring, he cared a lot - he was an emotional guy.

“More than okay.” you said back to him. He let out a hum as his hand trailed down to your abdomen - the area where you had the most scars from the Bakufu. Suddenly, you got what he was saying.

“I - well - I came inside. Are you sure?” he asked again. You didn’t really think about that in the moment, honestly. You weren’t sure how you felt about that one hundred percent - but you knew that you didn’t entirely mind it. You had gone through hell to get back with him because you wanted to be with him - you wanted to be with him completely.

“Yeah. I’m sure - I want to be with you, Diluc. That means… everything.” you said back. He nodded back down to you as he kissed you again, keeping his hand on you down below. When he stopped, he pressed your forehead to his lovingly.

“To everything.”

#diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x reader

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sanktnikolais · 3 years

Text

Fool Truth

A/N: yep this is an old work to cover up the fact that i haven’t been able to write anything new ;-; so have this for now

set in the same universe as this other fic

Word count: 2176

Nikolai is tired of hearing his father's nonsense about his need to get married every time he sees him. So when the universe allowed his father to reprimand him about marriage again, Nikolai is able to say an excuse that would get him out of the situation and put him in a more complicated one.

Nikolai was ready to bolt from the battlefield.

To hell with dessert, he thought, and yet his feet were still planted on the ground. Even after years of being away from their household, he could say he had missed their old, grumpy cook Baghra's chocolate mousse cake.

Maybe he should try holding on a bit longer, but one look from the man at the head of the table was only making running look like the most reasonable choice.

He braced himself over his father's next words, all too aware of what they would be.

"I've been talking to one of our partners yesterday," Alexander Lantsov started, his tone neutral as if he was delivering a monologue during one of their board meetings. He gave Nikolai an expectant look. "She's agreed to introduce you to her daughter."

Nikolai felt his jaw tick in annoyance. He had expected this from his father; it was already old news. If there was one thing he got from him, it was stubbornness, and it was one of the rare times Nikolai hated inheriting that same trait.

Alexander continued to stare at him, and Nikolai could feel the gaze getting heavier with each second.

"Don't you ever get tired of trying to set me up with random people?" He put down his fork beside his plate as gently as possible even when slamming it down was inviting. "Because I'm exhausted, dad. Just drop it."

The atmosphere in the room grew darker, the tension in the air crackling like electricity. Nikolai should have declined coming here, but his mother had insisted and she was sometimes the only one who could make the household a bit more bearable for him.

He looked over to his older brother from across the table, seeing the amused smirk on Vasily's lips as he toyed with the glass of wine in his hand. Being the eldest came with a life perk; he was free to do anything he wanted and as he pleased. Whether it's scandalous or the barest minimum for their company, he would still be the favorite one.

Where his brother was pertained as Perfect Vasily, Nikolai was always Nikolai Nothing. Someone who would never appease his father's expectations of him.

So much for being the unfavorable second son.

Nikolai leaned back in his chair, already losing his appetite. He regarded Vasily with a nod. "Why won’t he be the one you introduce to your partner's daughter?" he said. "Besides, isn't he the one who will inherit all this? I think it's better for him to get married for a potential merging, and I see no benefit for anyone if I were to be engaged to someone of a big name."

Alexander huffed in disbelief as if he just said the stupidest thing in the world. "You still don't get it, do you?" he said, his voice dropping to what it could sound was a threatening one. “I’m doing this for your own good.”

“Oh, wow. Really now?” Nikolai’s voice had already risen, and it earned a look of warning from his mother but he didn’t bother acknowledging it. The rush of blood in his ears was raging. “My own good or for your own? As far as I remember, Lantsov Trading’s image wasn’t looking so good because of a certain scandal in one of the famous clubs in the city.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vasily shift uncomfortably in his seat and Nikolai basked in the triumph of seeing his perfect big brother squirm. He fought the urge to smirk.

“Now tell me,” he goaded, not knowing where his confidence of talking back to his father was coming from, “is it for mine, or for your own image?”

“Hey,” Vasily snapped. “Watch your mouth, Nikolai.”

But Nikolai was having none of it and gave his older brother a pointed glance. “Shut it, I’m not talking to you.”

The look of shock on Vasily’s face was priceless and Nikolai would have etched it in his mind if it weren’t for his anger taking over. He turned back to his father, whose face was now twisted into a full scowl as if he could lunge at Nikolai anytime he wanted to. Nikolai thought he could try to poke the beast out of its cage a bit more and see where it would go.

He put on an easy grin, the kind that he knew ticked at his father’s patience. “Please enlighten me, dad.”

“You are no use in this family if you’re just going to continue your hobbies and not focus on doing important matters—”

“Like trying to live quietly without you breathing down my neck and forcing me to marriage?”

Alexander was visibly fuming, and Nikolai had to commend him for holding back. “You will not disgrace our name with your lack of achievements,” his father growled. Nikolai felt the words sting at his pride but he didn’t dare let it show. “Comply, else I will cut you off.”

Nikolai chuckled humorlessly. Finally, something that makes sense. He put his hands up and shrugged. “Then cut me off. I’d gladly take it, father.”

This somehow drained the last of his father’s patience because the old man almost threw the table up when he stood, his expression darker than the stormy sky. “You will comply whether you like it or not—”

“I’m already married.”

Everything went silent. Even breathing wasn’t even audible, as if everyone just decided to hold their breaths or some invisible force had forced them to stop breathing.

And for Nikolai, he might as well have stopped breathing. Panic overwhelmed the anger in his mind.

Shitshitshitshitshit—

The only thing keeping him from going insane and bolting off from their old home was the look of utter shock on their faces. It was one of the rare times they gave him their full attention, and Nikolai felt bitter when he realized it was a blatant lie that would make it happen again.

But it didn’t change the fact the words he had just blurted out of control.

You’re an idiot, Nikolai, an all too familiar voice echoed in his head, and for once, he found that he agreed with it.

Another long moment passed. Nikolai’s legs were already shaking violently from under the table but he refused to break eye contact with his father. Doing so would only make his lie more uncertain than it already was.

“What did you just say?” Alexander asked him when he finally found his voice. His grip on the table became impossibly tighter.

The calmness in Nikolai’s voice surprised even himself when he replied, “I said I’m already married.”

“Since when?” his father asked in disbelief. “And to whom?”

Nikolai was already expecting that question, and yet he still didn’t have anything to cover up for it. Who would he say? It wasn’t as if he had anyone that was convincing enough to be his girlfriend, let alone his wife. He had just dug his own grave with his recklessness and his family would see him lay rest in it.

You should’ve run when you had the chance, Lantsov, he silently berated himself as he continued to rack his mind for an answer.

Apparently, his distress didn’t go unnoticed by Vasily, as Nikolai could feel his gaze on him, and when he turned, he saw the first signs of a smirk on his older brother’s lips. If there was another thing Nikolai hated from his brother, it was Vasily always seeming to see right through everything.

Maybe he should just say something snarky enough to make them drop the subject—he didn’t owe them an explanation, not after treating him like he didn’t belong to their lives. He could just tell them to give up and leave it at that. He wouldn't mind another argument that would follow if it means straying from the current subject.

But of course, knowing his family, they wouldn’t stop until they got what they wanted.

Vasily huffed, catching everyone’s attention. He almost looked like he was about to say something more when Nikolai’s ringtone blared.

With a startled glance down his pants pocket, he slowly got his phone. The caller ID at the top of the screen glared at him in big letters.

Attorney Grumpy.

A thought suddenly formed in his head. He hesitated for a second when he realized he was going to get himself killed with the idea. But he figured that if he was going to die either way, he would prefer it to be by her hand.

Nikolai put on his usual grin. “Look,” he said, waving his phone up for emphasis, “she’s actually calling me.” He slid the answer icon to the right and put the phone to his ear, trying to keep his hand from shaking. He mustered up his most cheery tone. “Yes, dear?”

A beat, and then, “Are you still in that family dinner and somehow gotten drunk?” Zoya asked incredulously, and Nikolai had to fight off a wince from hearing her tone. He opened his mouth to reply, but it seemed like she already knew his answer. “Because I’m not fixing your shit if you ever do something beyond compare. But I would make an exception if it involves punching your brother.”

Her statement made him laugh genuinely, and the looks his family was giving him only became more curious. “What’s up?”

“I’m crashing over tonight.”

He waited for another moment before answering something that would surely be the reason for his death later. But he had to keep up the pretense going. “I know that all too well, dear. Don’t worry, I’ll be home soon. No need to miss me that much.”

Zoya didn’t answer him right away, and he could already imagine the scowl on her face as she processed his words, and she was most likely thinking of the ways to murder him too. “Lantsov, what the fuck are you blabbering about?”

One of his legs was already down the grave, and Nikolai sent a silent prayer to any deity who could hear him. Please protect me from her wrath later. He tried to smile, but he was sure it looked more of a grimace. “Yes, dear. I’ll be home in a bit.” He risked a furtive glance to his older brother, who was still looking at him quite suspiciously. And to sound more convincing, he went along with his instincts and blurted, “Love you.”

Then he ended the call before he could be given an earful of curses that would send his mother to a dead faint if she would ever hear it. As he put his phone back in his pocket, he could feel his heart beating erratically in his chest. Whether it was over his nervousness over the mess he’d thrown himself into or the last words he told Zoya, he didn’t know.

When he turned his attention back to his brother, he found that Vasily had his eyebrows raised as if he still didn’t want to believe about Nikolai’s married status. Nikolai challenged his brother’s look with his own, and a moment later, Vasily huffed and shook his head.

Alexander glared down at Nikolai, a mixture of rage and confusion in his eyes, but it was the former that overwhelmed his gaze. “Who is she?” he asked, his tone demanding and angry. Nikolai suddenly felt nervous for no reason. His gut told him that there was something bad about to happen. An angry Alexander Lantsov wasn’t a man to be messed with, and Nikolai had just taunted the beast out of its cage. “And why didn’t you tell us?”

A wave of protectiveness washed over Nikolai, and he glared back at his father as he said, “So you can break the marriage before it even happened? I don’t think so.”

He grabbed the napkin at the side and used it to wipe at his hands before standing up. He was as tall as his father, but the old man always had the power to make someone shrink under his gaze, but Nikolai didn’t let it faze him.

The scowl on Alexander’s face deepened. “Where are you going?”

“Why, home to my wife, of course. She’s waiting,” replied Nikolai with a sneer, and he could already sense the last remains of his father’s patience dwindling with the way he gripped the table again. But Nikolai was disappointed when Alexander didn’t decide to act out on it. Politely, he said, “Thank you for dinner.”

With a final smile in his mother’s direction, he walked out of the dining room without as much as a glance back. When he felt that he was finally out of their sight, he let out a relieved breath. But there was still no denying that his hands were trembling as he got out of the mansion, and it wasn’t from the cold.

What had he just gotten himself into?

Nikolai shook himself out of his daze. At least he was out of their tight hold around his neck.

For now.

#zoyalai #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #king of scars #fake married au #I DONT HAVE ANY NEW CONTENT #SO HAVE THIS OLD ONE #FROM MY FAKE MARRIED AU #sigh idk #no energy #and burnt out season #that's why no new content T-T #will still keep trying for this fandom for another few months maybe HAHAHAH

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alwaysmychoices · 3 years

Note

Hi! Me again! I don’t know if you’ve done this or not or something that might interest you. But HC with Ethan and MC meeting like Derek and Meredith, sleeping together before knowing they work together?

I really enjoyed this one! A. I got to do “research” by rewatching Grey’s. B. I loved the way this turned out. If this becomes it’s own fic, don’t be surprised.

Ethan & f!MC - Meeting Before Knowing They Worked Together

When MC walked into Donahue’s on the eve of her first day at Edenbrook, she was determined to have one last night where she wasn’t an incoming resident or a future diagnostician or anything other than a girl at a bar.

Maybe she should have known that a bar that close to a hospital would attract its employees.

But really, when she saw Ethan, she wasn’t thinking.

He was just a handsome man sitting alone at a bar, and she was just a girl.

Neither of them meant to go home together that night. If anything, they felt like they were trapped in some magnetic pull.

They had to talk. Ethan had to buy her a drink, and MC had to move closer. A few hours later, when Ethan called himself a cab, it was a foregone conclusion that MC would be in the backseat next to him.

That night was amazing.

The morning, however…

MC woke up hungover to Ethan’s morning alarm. The 45-second gap between MC waking and Ethan turning off the alarm was as close to hell as MC ever wanted to be.

“Why is it so loud?” she grumbled, covering her eyes with her arm.

“It’s an alarm.”

“Right.”

…

“What time is it?”

“6.”

“What?”

MC scrambled for her phone and emitted a panicked groan that made Ethan do a double-take. Jolted awake with anxiety, MC got out of bed and fumbled for her clothes, which lined Ethan’s floor haphazardly.

He watched with bemused confusion.

“Are you alright?” he asked, trying not to smirk as she mumbled a thousand curses under her breath as she tried to button her jeans.

“I’m going to be late.”

“For?”

“My first day.”

“At?”

“My job.”

Ethan was both amused and frustrated with her insistence on remaining vague. She didn’t seem particularly interested in talking to him, or in him at all this morning. That should have been a blessing. He never liked the awkward, post-sex small talk or the polite feigned interest in each other’s life.

Maybe he was so interested in MC because she wasn’t interested in him.

Either way, he asked her name. She didn’t seem to be offended that he forgot, and a moment later, she admitted that she didn’t know his either.

Ethan asked if she wanted coffee. Nearly tripping as she buckled her wedges, MC said she didn’t have time. He asked for a raincheck.

MC paused, debating how to answer. She didn’t walk into that bar to find someone, nor did she move to Boston with the intention of dating anyone. She didn’t have time for coffee dates, no matter how handsome this stranger was.

But instead of letting him down gently, she walked to his bedside table where he kept a pen and paper for late-night epiphanies. She scribbled her name and number on the top sheet.

And then she had to go.

Ethan called out a goodbye, and though she didn’t return it, she smiled softly in the elevator.

The next hour or so was chaos. MC’s ride back to her apartment was slowed by morning traffic, so running out of time, MC ran upstairs, changed, grabbed what she needed, and ran back downstairs in a panic. 10 minutes into her commute, she realized her phone was dead, and she blindly navigated her new city.

Considering everything, it was a miracle she was only 5 minutes late.

But she was still late.

MC moved through orientation feeling like she was always a step behind because she was late. She made a few friends, all of whom assured her that she hadn’t missed much, but one maintained a sly, condescending smile as if he’d somehow won today’s game by being earlier than her.

She was so focused on making up for lost time that she didn’t notice her familiar coworker until it was too late.

They were in the halls when their paths first crossed.

Ethan saw her first. At first, it was just a quick glance, but when he realized who she was, he stopped dead in his tracks.

MC, coffee in one hand and a chart in the other, kept walking and only offered a cursory glance of intrigue when she saw someone stop in the halls.

She nearly dropped her coffee in shock.

For a moment, they just stared at each other.

And then they stared at each other’s IDs.

MC felt nauseous when she read his name. Dr. Ethan Ramsey. Her hero. Her boss.

She had sex with her boss.

And Ethan had sex with an intern!

Ethan opened his mouth to say something – though God knows, he didn’t know what he was going to say – but didn’t get the opportunity. Panicked, MC just walked away.

The rest of the day, she felt like she was in a daze.

What had she been thinking? She should have never gone out last night at all.

Two hours later, they ran into each other again – this time, in a lonely elevator with no immediate exit. They were trapped.

MC spoke first.

“So, you’re… you’re Dr. Ramsey then.”

“I am.”

“Right…” MC evaded eye contact, “I read your book.”

Ethan cringed, “Oh.”

After a beat, he asked, “So, what are you? Surgery? Pediatrics?”

“Diagnostics.”

“Oh.”

Realizing that Ethan was MC’s direct supervisor, they agreed to pretend nothing ever happened. As soon as they exited this elevator, they would never speak of it again. They shared an awkward handshake just before the doors opened.

They fully intended to stay apart, but they kept running into each other.

MC quickly established herself as a promising if flawed doctor. Ethan was intrigued by her potential. After days of deliberation, he decided it would be unfair to refrain from mentoring her just because they made one mistake.

He told himself it was pure professional interest, but if that were true, he wouldn’t have kept her number all this time.

Ethan was hard on MC. His criticisms became so frequent they felt like abuse. He expected a lot from her – more than he expected from any other intern, save for Aurora. She responded to the criticism with improved performance, and Ethan saw no reason to let up now.

She couldn’t reach her potential if she was afraid to grow.

He kept his compliments and growing respect mostly to himself. He worried that, given their past, sharing them would appear inappropriate.

So, as Ethan grew attached to MC, she brewed in dislike.

The differential treatment was obvious. While Ethan flattered himself that he was pushing her to greatness, she just felt pushed and underappreciated. Her success was only met with more challenges. She was exhausted, and she blamed Ethan.

And Ethan had the misfortune of sitting next to her at Donahue’s the night she reached her limit.

He asked if she wanted a drink. She answered with the kind of glare that could slit throats.

Ethan’s reasoning was clouded with MC. Though he recognized her annoyance and knew to leave, he didn’t. He ordered his drink and remained next to her as she fumed.

After 10 minutes of silence, MC finished her third beer and asked, “Why are you such a dick?”

Ethan choked on his drink.

“If you’re just punishing me because of that night, that’s not appropriate. I’m a doctor, not just the girl from a bar you slept with.”

“I am not punishing you, and if I was, it certainly wouldn’t be for that reason.”

Maybe it was the alcohol in her system. Maybe it was months of resentment. Or maybe it was because, no matter what he did, he was still the handsome stranger at a bar. The magnetic draw they found in Donahue’s never waned. She still wanted him to pick up her number and schedule that coffee date.

Whatever it was, MC let him have it.

They ended up in an alley, yelling at each other like the rest of the world couldn’t hear them. Under the cover of false anonymity, they released so much frustration that their voices reached screams.

And then…

Well, they later blamed the passion of the moment.

But, once they had released all of their frustrations, one lingered. They resented staying apart.

So, that night, they didn’t.

In the middle of a screaming match where MC aimed a long stream of expletives at him, Ethan kissed her. And then MC kissed him. And then they were in a cab, and they were back in his apartment. And… and it started all over.

And the worst part was that they each had a sobering moment where they realized what they were doing, and they did it anyway.

In the morning, they had the same conversation they had in the elevator. This was an unprofessional, irresponsible mistake, and it wouldn’t happen again.

But it did.

And at some point, they realized they were no longer thrown together in the rush of adrenaline and frustration. They were together on the good days and in the smiling moments.

A thousand small decisions tied them to one another.

MC wasn’t just a girl in a bar.

She never had been.

tag list: if you want to join the tag list/be taken off (or excluded from certain posts), let me know!

@schnitzelbutterfingers @curiousconch @starrystarrytrouble @jessirosebud @lucy-268 @aestheticartsx @eramsey28 @macy-ray85 @octobereighth @queencarb @claredal424 @mercury84choices @drariellevalentine @wonderwithrobin @honeyandsunfl0wers @iemcpbchoices @queenbirbs @stateofgracious @kalogh @paulfwesley @canigetanawwjunk @blossomanarchy @lion-ess24 @hopefulmoonobject @caroldxnvxrs @senseofduties @chasingrobbie @rookieoh @delaytheinevitable

#ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #choices #headcanon #hc

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apiratewhopines · 3 years

Text

Thanks to @teamhook for the the eye candy :)

In the Offing

Chapter 16 — Heart of Darkness

Summary: In which our heroine buries multiple hatchets

Notes: This one gets a little gruesome!

Chapter 16 on AO3

“Some mistakes get made

That’s alright, that’s okay

In the end it’s better for me

That’s the moral of the story babe”

-Moral of the Story, Ashe

In the dead of night, her phone started ringing. Looking at the clock, she tried to shake off the fog that threatened to pull her back under. Reaching blindly for her cell and seeing the ID, she groggily answered, “What do you want, Killian?”

“Bloody hell, Swan! If I had known you would get in trouble the second I walked out, I never would have left,” he swore, words breaking with stress. She imagined his hair looked wild at this point if his voice was any indication. “Are you alright?”

“Finally got around to reading the paper, I see,” she replied without emotion as she shifted to sit up in bed. Unable to keep an accusation from seeping into her tone, she continued, “Yes, I’ve had a day to get used to the idea that I’m the most hated person in town but it’s nice of you to join the party. Better late than never I suppose.”

“Liam and I went out on the sailboat, we didn’t get back until a couple of minutes ago. Surely you don’t think I would have left you to fend for yourself if I had known,” he rebuked. When she didn’t say anything, he said grimly, “Or maybe that’s exactly what you thought. Love, you’ll not get rid of me that easily. Can I come over? As a friend.”

She hated that he felt like he had to clarify his intentions. Hated even more that she craved his presence. “No, I’m okay. I need to sleep. I...I’m glad you called though,” she confessed, too tired to maintain the facade that she didn’t care.

“Emma, please—”

“I’ll talk to you later,” she cut him off and hung up before she could change her mind. As much as it hurt, the lines between them were blurred enough without him holding her while she slept which is exactly what would happen if he showed up in the middle of the night. She was beginning to realize that a platonic friendship with him would be impossible. For them it would be all or nothing.

She drifted back to sleep and dreamed of the cottage. The sunshine softly illuminating the porch in the early morning, tiny feet running barefoot across the wood floors, laughter filling every corner of the home. She awoke hours later with a deep sense of peace that was foreign to her.

—

The seagulls squawked longingly as they flew back and forth across the marina docks in search of food left behind by visitors. Emma sat on the bench looking out at the ocean, the heat of the day warming the metal in a pleasant way. While she didn’t want to admit it, she knew she had come to this place in search of Killian.

Instead someone found her.

“I was hoping I would run into you soon,” Liam greeted her as he settled on the bench. As was his norm, he didn’t crowd or even look in her direction. His gaze was fixed out on the distant waves. The stony countenance that always graced his face, the one that used to irritate her so, had somehow changed into a soothing kind of companionship that she had missed.

“Well, you did and here we are. Two grumpy Bostonians stuck in a picturesque nightmare,” she commented, only half joking. She realized that even before their fight, she hadn’t really spent time with him in weeks. Sneaking a look out of the corner of her eye, she saw that the gash on his head was healing nicely, only a thin red line marking the place where the injury occurred. His arm was still in a sling and probably would be for a couple more weeks but he wasn’t as stiff as he had been. Still stiff of course, this was Liam Jones after all, but pompously so instead of painfully.

“Too right,” he agreed. “Although I think you might have gotten the worst of it.”

“Trip’s not over yet. Don’t jinx yourself,” Emma pointed out with a grimace. “Thank you for the transfer. I wasn’t sure you’d come through.”

“Have I ever not lived up to my end of the bargain, Emma? You did what you said you would, you found half the missing persons on our list, doing it admirably and with your normal tenaciousness. If I ever made you think I doubted your abilities or didn’t count you as important, I regret it. I didn’t bring you along as a...what did you call it? A pretty blonde distraction.”

“I haven’t given up, you know. I still want to help you. It’s only that my priorities have to shift for a while,” she told him. Saying that she needed to save her own skin first would have been too melodramatic but she trusted he understood what she meant. He usually did.

“What they printed in the paper was out of line,” he said heatedly. “It was a smear job and it means nothing. You aren’t alone, Emma. You have friends and we will sort this out. It is a fine tangle though.”

“I’m sure it was a shock to read about my past in the Storybrooke Daily Mirror. At least it was for me. There is a reason I like keeping to myself.”

“I knew about your past the second time I talked with Henry, lass,” he laughed. “I think he was feeling me out as a potential suitor. The hope of youth is vast and diabolical.”

Chuckling because that sounded exactly like something Henry would do, she reached out and lightly slapped his shoulder. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m too good for the likes of you, even with a criminal history and fresh charges pending.”

“Aye, you’ll get no argument from me,” he agreed. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he muttered, “Speaking of women who are too good for me, Elsa and I are getting married this Saturday.”

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. The tips of his ears were a faint pink and his lips had softened into a satisfied grin. “I don’t know what to say. Congratulations! That’s really fast.”

“Or really slow depending on how you look at it,” he responded. “I’ve loved her for years and I don’t want to wait another minute. Her sister will be in town on a short break for the holiday so we decided it was the perfect time. We want you to be there. After all if it weren’t for you, I’d still have my head stuck up my ass.”

Snorting, she nodded. “That’s probably true. Honestly, I thought you were an incurable case so I guess you deserve some credit too. But Liam, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. I have this shooting hanging over my head and people will talk. I don’t want to detract from your day.”

“Hang them. Have I ever cared what people thought? The whole town will be there whether they are invited or not so what better way to show our solidarity.”

Forcing herself to be truthful, she added, “Things between me and Killian are...unsettled. He might be uncomfortable if I show up.”

Looking at her for the first time, his eyes crinkled in a way that was reminiscent of his brother. “No kidding. His moping around the house and general state of sullenness were my first clues. Trust me, he won’t mind.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s smitten with you. Has been since the moment we stepped foot in town,” he said in a voice that made it clear he thought it was obvious. Smiling out at the horizon, he explained, “Killian has taken to you in a way I’ve never seen before. In the interest of fulfilling my role of wing man, I have to confess that he was on me to tell you about the map and treasure from the minute we made it back to the cottage after the accident, long before you had formed an attachment. I’m sure he’ll give you plenty of reasons to be angry with him in the future but place the blame for this one where it belongs. Squarely on me.”

“I think I may have already burned that bridge,” Emma declared, her smile a sad answer to his.

“Good that my little brother is an excellent swimmer then,” Liam countered, standing up and facing her. “Come to the wedding. Then we’ll get back to work.”

—

Emma walked into the loft several hours later discouraged and annoyed. Having spent a good part of the afternoon at the docks, she decided to stop off at the hospital on the way home to check on August. It was there that the full import of her situation hit her. The ICU staff followed her every move, never leaving her alone with her friend as if they were afraid she would rip out his heart with her bare hands as soon as their backs were turned.

So much for innocent until proven guilty.

Mary Margaret’s sunny smile welcomed her as she stepped across the threshold. “Emma, you just missed Killian. He’d been waiting for you for hours.”

“Hmm” was her only reply. As much as she might want to see him, after her chat with Liam she wasn’t sure she was ready to. There were things she needed to settle in her own mind before she interacted with him again. It wasn’t fair to keep jerking him around. She was going to have to pick a path and stick to it. The problem was her mind was set on one direction and her heart was urging her in another.

“Uh oh, I know that look,” Mary Margaret commented. “You’re reverting.”

Amused in spite of the dark turn of her thoughts, Emma asked, “Reverting? What do you mean?”

“You’re pulling on that armor of yours and you’re readying for battle. Am I right?”

“I’m tired. That’s all. The hospital staff clearly believes everything they read,” she explained while moving into the kitchen to get something to drink. “It’s one thing to think someone capable of murder but it’s another to think they would be stupid enough to do it in broad daylight in a well monitored hospital room.”

“Most people are too wrapped up in their own lives to question the things that people present to them as facts,” she observed sagely. “Regardless, I know what you need to get out of this funk.”

“Do you? And what would that be?”

“We’re going out for a girl’s night. I’ll call Elsa and Ruby. We’ll get dressed up and we’ll show the town that they are wrong about you.”

“I’m not sure there is enough makeup in the world to change their opinions now,” Emma joked, not completely averse to proposal. “I’m also not sure I’m ready to see another story in the paper about how I callously partied my way through Storybrooke while August is on his deathbed.”

“It’s Storybrooke, Emma. How much trouble do you think we could get into? I’m not suggesting an orgy. It’s dinner with people who care about you. Maybe a few drinks.”

Nearly spitting out her orange juice when the word orgy slipped from Mary Margaret’s mouth, Emma shook her head in disbelief and teased, “What in the world has David been doing these last couple of days? You know when I met you, I would have sworn that you didn’t know any four-letter words.”

“Well now I know all of them,” she joked back, her cheeks flushing and eyes dancing with the deep emotion that only comes from being in love and being loved thoroughly and repeatedly. “Get changed. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Hours later, Emma had to admit she was glad she didn’t put up too much of a fight. Elsa and Ruby rounded out their merry little band quite nicely, the cool elegance of the former a stark contrast to the vivid earthiness of the latter. Overall they were a nice blend of independent, intelligent women who, for whatever reason, seemed to have her back.

She also appreciated that they were giving the topic of her brief arrest a wide berth. There was no better way to kill a buzz than to give into harsh realities. They kept the conversation light, discussing Elsa’s imminent wedding and Mary Margaret’s newfound saltiness. Ruby sighed and said, “Everyone is pairing up. It’s about to be nothing but babies and boringness. Then Emma will leave and nothing exciting will ever happen again.”

“That’s me, the bringer of excitement,” Emma commented dryly as her phone vibrated. Seeing that Henry was calling, she excused herself and went to stand outside so she could hear him. She watched a steady stream of people make their way into the bar as Henry begged to fly into town for Liam’s wedding. Figuring her son’s well-informed status must have come from the man himself, she laughed at his logical arguments for the last minute trip. Starting with the ability to celebrate the holiday with her and ending with meeting her new friends, he laid out his reasons as if he were forty instead of ten.

She hadn’t realized the individuals she had met since her arrival had trickled into their conversations so much but the casual way he referred to half a dozen people he had never met drove the point home. Tempted as she was to give in to his earnest and well-thought out pleas, she did not think it was a good time for a visit. She needed to clear her name first. Explaining that there would be time to meet everyone later and promising to send pictures of the ceremony, which effectively made the decision for her about attending, she ended the call and leaned back against the outer wall.

She heard gravel crunching under footsteps before she heard his voice. “Fancy meeting you here,” Graham said as he approached her.

“This is where all the cool kids hang out apparently,” she remarked, turning toward him. “How are you doing, Sheriff?”

“I’ve been better,” he admitted, stopping a couple of feet away and taking up a similar position against the wall. They stood there in silence for several minutes, neither one sure what to say now that they were alone and not interrogating each other. “The forensics came back. The gun was wiped clean. No prints.”

“Dead end then,” she observed, not particularly surprised. If it had been that easy, the guy would have already been caught.

“Not quite. You’d be surprised at the number of criminals who wipe the weapon and completely forget about the bullets. We pulled a partial off one. No hits yet but it definitely doesn’t match Liam’s or yours. They are also analyzing an unusual substance they found on the rags. We may still get lucky.”

“So, what does that mean?”

“It means you are no longer my prime suspect, Emma,” Graham explained with a small smile. “You can go back to hating me with a clear conscience.”

“I never hated you,” Emma argued, sheepishly looking at him from under her lashes. “I just didn’t trust you.”

Laughing softly, his lilting voice carried to her with a hint of delight. “I do love how direct you are.” Gazing into her eyes searchingly, he asked with a quirked brow, “Why is that? What did I do within minutes of meeting you to put you off me so completely?”

“You lied,” she said simply. Returning his searching glance, she took in his handsome face and lean body. In another time or place, if things had been different, she wondered if there would have been something between them. The odd tension stretched around them, forming a little bubble where the outside world didn’t exist. Deciding she had nothing to lose, she asked, “What were you really doing in the woods the night of our accident?”

“Clever girl,” he complimented her with a wink that showed he was teasing rather than patronizing her. With a shrewd look, he asked her, “Do you trust me now?”

“I think you’ve earned a little faith from me,” she replied, curious about the sudden shift in his demeanor. “Why?”

“It might be better if I show you,” he said mysteriously. A second later, her hand was clasped in his and he was pulling her toward his cruiser. “Let’s go.”

Sending a text to her friends to let them know something had come up and she wouldn’t be rejoining them, she buckled herself into the passenger seat and questioned humorously, “Are you taking me to the wolf’s den?”

“There really have been complaints about wolves,” he defended. “Although they are more likely to be coyotes in this area. But you’re right. I wasn’t being honest because I wasn’t sure what I had found. This town has a violent history and this particular investigation I’ve been keeping under wraps. I haven’t even told Nolan about it.”

“So why me? Why now?”

“I don’t know, Emma,” Graham responded truthfully. “There’s something about you. I’ve always been on your side, you just didn’t want to see it. I have a feeling you’re going to be the one to solve everything.”

“Everything is a tall order,” she groused. “I’d settle for finding who shot August.”

They fell into silence as the buildings gave way to trees. In no time, they were approaching the to town line. They emerged from the cruiser at nearly the exact point Liam’s SUV had left the road. With a dubious look at her sandals, he said, “You going to be okay for a walk?”

Mimicking his doubtful glance, she countered, “Are you offering to carry me the whole time?” Before he could say anything, she stepped off the pavement and ordered, “Lead the way.”

Even with the high-powered police flashlights, it was slow going in the inky darkness of the night with the overgrown forest floor threatening to trip them with every footfall. They had probably been hiking arm-in-arm for about thirty minutes, Emma having given up the pretense of making it on her own shortly after they started. “Are you taking me to our crash site?”

“I’m taking you to a crash site,” he corrected. Huffing a bit and wishing she had gone with jeans rather than a dress, she nodded. Then, there was a break in the trees and she could barely make out the charred remains of a sedan.

Pulling away, she carefully circled the burned out car. The light bounced eerily off the blackened metal and with only a slight hesitation, she flooded the front seat with the beam. Letting go of a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, she was relieved that it was empty. She really hadn’t been looking forward to finding any more skeletons in Storybrooke. “Who do you think it belonged to?”

“I don’t have to think, I know,” he assured her. “The car was registered to the city. It was reported stolen about twenty-eight years ago.”

“Someone stole city property, took it for a joyride, crashed it, and burned the car to hide the evidence?”

“Perhaps.”

“There’s something you haven’t told me, isn’t there?”

“You do have a knack for ferreting out the truth, Emma,” he respectfully observed. “It would be nice to have you around to help out the department from time to time.”

“Don’t get attached,” she warned seriously. “I’m merely passing through. What else have you found?”

“Follow me,” he directed, taking her arm lightly in his grasp to steady her as they moved deeper into the woods. Less than a quarter mile away from the car, they came upon an abandoned cabin. Flashing her light through the grimy windows, she detected no sign of movement.

Graham entered the one room cabin first and flicked on the light switch. A couple of the bulbs were still working and a dingy, yellow glow filled the room. It was then that she saw the blood stains on the small bed pushed against one wall. Her flashlight continued to trail around the room, illuminating several more bloody rags strewn on the floor. “What the hell happened here?”

“I can’t be sure,” he answered, steadying her again as her knees buckled a little at the overwhelming sight. “If it’s too much, we can go outside. You’ve seen everything there is to see now.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she told him, taking slow breaths in through her nose. “What do you think happened?”

“I think someone had a baby.” He watched her reaction as if concerned she might pass out. Honestly, his fears weren’t totally unfounded. “I’ll spare you from reviewing the evidence that led me to that conclusion since you’re white as a sheet and look like you could double over at any moment.”

“Why haven’t you processed the scene?”

“I’m waiting for the state lab to come. Emma, something happened in Storybrooke decades ago, something that is having a ripple effect to this day. I don’t trust that we’ll find answers locally. I’ve been doing what I can to comb through records regarding pregnancies around that time but it’s slow going with the privacy laws and the fact that I doubt there was a birth announcement for this particular baby.”

“I think I can help you there.” Exhaling shakily, she hurried outside. She heard him come up behind her and didn’t resist when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders as if to funnel some of his strength to her. “I’m positive that Eva Blanchard had her baby in that cabin, Graham. I’m also sure that if we continue searching, we’ll find her and Leo’s body somewhere around here. Maybe the baby’s as well.”

Feeling sick, she didn’t protest as he pulled her closer and began the trek out of this grisly corner of the forest. He didn’t question how she knew the things she knew and didn’t pressure her to talk, merely nodding at her in thanks when he dropped her off outside the loft.

That night, her dreams were anything but peaceful.

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passionate-reply · 3 years

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What would Great Albums be, if not for defenses of albums lots of people hate? SPK’s Machine Age Voodoo is, of course, one of those albums, being the attempt of a noisy, drony early industrial group to make synthy disco magic. Did they succeed? Well, maybe not--but at least it’s interesting. Find out more by watching the video, or checking out the transcript under the break!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! This time, I will be once again be coming to the defence of an album that’s been very divisive: Machine Age Voodoo by SPK, first released in 1984. Earlier in the 1980s, SPK had distinguished themselves as one of the most prominent figures of the nascent “noise music” movement, alongside acts like NON and Throbbing Gristle. Just two years before Machine Age Voodoo, they released their arguable magnum opus: Leichenschrei, an album that eschewed a traditional tracklisting, featured the mutilated visage of a victim of napalm burns on its cover, and sounded something like this:

Music: “Seite ((Klono))” / “Napalm (Terminal Patient)”

With their follow-up to Leichenschrei, SPK would take their sound in a very different direction. They abandoned the harsh, buzzing textures and nauseous, whirring drones of their earlier work, and set out in a remarkably more pop direction. While Machine Age Voodoo features verses and choruses, brighter synth textures, and winsome slap basslines, it still maintains a certain “industrial” identity, tying it into the same overarching web of related styles that SPK’s earlier work fell under. This album reminds me a bit of Depeche Mode’s mid-80s output, such as Some Great Reward, in its incorporation of both synth-pop structures as well as some accents of mechanistic clangs and bangs. Depeche Mode and SPK were, of course, passing by one another after coming from opposite directions on this spectrum, but the end results remain comparable.

Music: “Junk Funk” / “Machine Age Voodoo”

Listening to the album’s stomping opener, titled “Junk Funk” on most releases but made into the title track for the US market, I’m struck by just how upbeat of a track it is. Where many industrial acts are keen to portray modern labour as a punishing, soul-sucking, miserable endeavour, “Junk Funk” seems to make it into something of a party. Given that even Depeche Mode were penning tracks like “Everything Counts” with a dour outlook on capitalism, the seemingly playful aura surrounding this single really sets it apart--though not necessarily in a good way. As I mentioned earlier, *Machine Age Voodoo* has consistently been panned by fans of the group’s more aggressive earlier work, and I think the album’s affinities with light-hearted, and perhaps even silly, post-disco pop make it all the more easy to write off as ridiculous and asinine. But much like simply being in a style you don’t care for isn’t a reason to lambaste a work of art, simply being lighter in tone is no reason to reject something. Not all great art needs to be stone-serious, after all! While Machine Age Voodoo may not be a continuation of the classic SPK sound, I think it’s an album that has plenty of appeal for fans of lighter synth-pop, and one that I wish had managed to achieve a bit more renown among those who might be a bit more receptive to its style.

Naturally, the title of the album and the themes of its sometime title track invite us to consider the role that appropriation of “primitive” themes has to play. Ever since industrialization and colonialism began to create large separations between the lifestyles of “the West and the rest,” Western artists from Picasso to Gauguin have found themselves fascinated by so-called “primitive” ways of life, found among communities of colour whom they believed to live closer to the natural or archaic state of humankind, uncorrupted by capitalism. But followers of the religion sometimes known as “Voodoo” are living in the modern world as much as anyone else is, and the use of their faith as a symbol of barbarism or the unrestrained id here is presumptuous at best, and bigoted at worst--particularly given the reference to “funk,” a music style that, like Voodoo, is strongly associated with Black culture. The love for things “primitive” has served an important cultural role in the West, offering an apparent alternative to the crushing death spiral of capitalism, and serving as an outlet for questioning the assumed status quo and the truth of human nature--but at the same time, I think we can fairly criticize it for offering a stereotyped and tokenized view of cultures outside of the West. Machine Age Voodoo offers another, very different, perspective on the Other on its second track, “With Love From China.”

Music: “With Love From China”

Compared to “Junk Funk,” “With Love From China” is distinguished as one of the album’s more plaintive and less dancefloor-oriented tracks, and, in contrast to “Junk Funk”’s joyful embrace of “high technology hoodoo,” “With Love From China” portrays the titular Communist power as something quite sinister. While a simple read of the lyrics suggests that it may be a triumphant hymn to the state, the track’s plodding, dirgelike melody makes it hang like an ominous cloud instead. Arguably the most successful state to be built upon Marxist ideals, China is a prominent feature of lots of early 80s synth-pop, where it and other Communist states saw varying portrayals as anywhere from dystopian to utopian. Like the appropriation of “voodoo” earlier, the dread romanticism applied to China by SPK on this track says more about them than it does about China itself. I think both tracks, taken together, paint a picture of a sort of “anywhere but here” ideology, defined less by any strong feelings for these particular cultures, and more by a desire for an escape to the exotic, and an abandonment of all that is sick about the West. Overall, though, “With Love From China” isn’t necessarily a fair representation of the average track on Machine Age Voodoo, as the album consists mostly of higher-energy tracks, like “Metal Dance.”

Music: “Metal Dance”

Perhaps the track most clearly aimed at nightclub rotation, “Metal Dance” feels like a logical choice for the album’s first single. Less of a pop tune and more of a floorfiller, “Metal Dance” still hums with industrial touches, propelled by clunking metallic percussion and chant-like shouts that prefigure the synthesis of machine music and club fare that EBM acts like Nitzer Ebb would achieve later in the 1980s. With its succinct title and a compelling hook that implores us to “synthesize our dreams away,” “Metal Dance” almost feels like a love letter to the sheer concept of electronic music for dancing to--a consummate paean to the discotheque, even if it comes from what may seem like an unlikely, and perhaps dishonest, source. A similar embrace of dance music qua dance music is found on “High Tension.”

Music: “High Tension”

If “Metal Dance” sounds like a preview of later industrial dance genres like EBM, then “High Tension” feels like a throwback to the first attempts to “synthesize” an electronic disco, with its dense, complex production style, prominent bass, and lyrics that promote “danc[ing] ‘til you drop” as a response to “bad times.” Despite its compelling use of a well-textured vocoder, “High Tension” veers away from the worship of the machine that was central to “Metal Dance,” and its straightforward celebration of dancing itself makes it feel like the most likely genuine crossover hit on the album--not that it really had any. It’s also worth noting that the track’s bridge contains an early reference to “hip-hop,” back when artists like Man Parrish were freely using the term to describe club-friendly electro that didn’t necessarily include rapping. Times have changed, of course, but I think “High Tension” fits right in with other works in that style--even if, again, it comes from a group that nobody would have expected to make music like this!

On the cover of Machine Age Voodoo, we see a fantasy cityscape, defined by a massive tower crowned with the band’s name accompanied by a Communist-inspired red star. It’s as firmly removed from the vile and shocking imagery of Leichenschrei as the music contained within. But, just as the music has retained some degree of industrial sentiments, the cover is not without its own sense of subversion--it is, after all, apparently enshrining the ostensibly dangerous, foreign ideology of Communism!

It’s tempting to compare this image to the futuristic imagery of Fritz Lang’s classic silent film, Metropolis, particularly given that there’s also a track on the album that shares that title. But I think that the visual style employed here, with its blocky, cubistic rendering of form and lively use of diagonals to enrich its composition, is perhaps more reminiscent of the work of the Russian avant-garde of the 1910s. Even before the Russian Revolution, pioneering abstract artists, like the “Rayonist” Natalia Goncharova, were looking towards the exciting potential of the future, and making art that celebrated the beauty of machines in motion. The early abstraction of painters like Goncharova would go on to influence the abstract art associated with the early days of the Soviet Union, which makes it a particularly fitting affinity given the themes of Machine Age Voodoo.

After Machine Age Voodoo, SPK never returned to making more melodic music--perhaps unsurprisingly, given the album’s simultaneous failure to achieve crossover success, or retain the interest of their existing fanbase. They returned in 1986 with Zamia Lehmanni: Songs of Byzantine Flowers, an album of dark ambient music that avoided slavishly copying earlier works like Leichenschrei, while still feeling like a worthy continuation of the spirit in which they had begun their career.

Music: “Invocation to Secular Heresies”

My favourite track on Machine Age Voodoo is “Seduction,” which is easy to overlook as it actually only appeared on the US release of the album. “Seduction” is striking for its blatant, wantonly sexual lyricism, which, when combined with SPK vocalist Sinan Leong’s competently sultry vocal style, recalls the best work of the experimental disco outfit Gina X Performance. And much like Gina X Performance, there’s a bit of subversively queer gender-bending to be had here, as a male backing vocalist repeats Leong’s line, “you call yourself a man?” I think that may be unintentional, a sort of happy accident, but I love it nonetheless. That’s all I have for today--thanks for listening!

Music: “Seduction”

#music #spk #industrial #industrial music #great albums #album review #album reviews

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blueaura · 4 years

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Lost and Found Ch. 5

A/N: Since I was late with the last chapter, I tried to get this one done as soon as possible. We finally get a little bit of Cas as well as some brotherly moments between Sam and Dean. Thanks to everyone who’s read it this far. As always, any tips and suggestions are welcome. Feedback would be amazing. Thank you and happy reading!

Summary: Sam and Dean meet a young hunter who is a little rough around the edges and they reluctantly take her under their wing. But she might be a little more connected to them that any of them realise.

Word Count: 2k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Dean found himself at the bar after he stormed out of the motel room. He was angry, which wasn’t a big surprise since anger was practically Dean Winchester’s default setting. What was a surprise was the fact that Dean was scared shitless. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so out of control.

Fear was a constant in Dean’s life, it wasn’t like this was a new feeling. Hell, fear kept him alert during hunts. It was healthy, even, in his profession. But this wasn’t the fear that came with hunting a monster or facing the devil. This was like the time Sam had ran away on his watch and he couldn’t find him. Or like when Dad had left him in that boys’ home with no guarantee that he was coming back. This was the kind of fear where he was completely helpless and didn’t know what to do to make things better.

He took a sip of his beer and realised he needed something way stronger if he was to compose himself before facing his brother and Y/N again.

Y/N.

He didn’t know how to deal with this new complication in his life. He remembered his time with Sandra, remembered how she had cut him off after their last time together even though they had been pretty consistent with keeping in touch before then. Could she really have hid something so big from him? His grip tightened over the bottle as anger coursed through his veins at the thought of her hiding this from him. He latched onto that anger. Anger was safe, this he knew how to handle.

“Can I get a whiskey next sweetheart? Make it a double,” he didn’t even look at the pretty bartender behind the counter, staring intently at the beer in his hand instead.

“Rough night?” she asked as she handed him a glass half filled with whiskey.

“Something like that,” he replied, taking the glass and immediately downing it in one go.

“You wanna talk about it?” she eyed him as she refilled his glass.

Dean looked at her. She was pretty, someone he would usually not think twice about taking home. In fact, on a normal night he would have already had her spread out in the backseat of baby by now. But this wasn’t a normal night, and so he ignored her ‘fuck me’ eyes and instead shook his head as he sipped on his second glass of whiskey. Better to pace himself unless he wanted to show up at the motel drunk and freak Y/N out more than she already was.

His phone rang and he looked at the caller ID – Cas. He suddenly felt a pang of guilt as he remembered he’d promised to call him after the case ended. Cas wasn’t taking the whole ‘being on the bench’ thing too well and was more worried than usual about Sam and Dean so they had tried to keep him updated to assuage his fear.

“Cas,” he tried to keep his voice even, “Hey man, sorry we didn’t call. We’re alright.”

“What’s wrong?” Cas always knew when Dean was bullshitting him. For someone who barely knew social cues, he was more in tune with Dean’s emotions than Dean himself was. It was freaky but he guessed it was a side effect of the whole ‘raising him from perdition’ deal.

Dean considered lying but he knew it was pointless. He sighed loudly as Cas waited for him to talk patiently. Looking around the packed bar, he decided to head out before having this conversation. Throwing a few bills on the counter to cover his drinks, he quickly thanked the bartender and walked to his car.

“It wasn’t vampires,” Dean tried to deflect. “It was a family of shifters. Y/N and I got caught and Sammy came in and saved the day.”

“Dean,” Cas said in that infuriating tone which always got on Dean’s nerves. Clearly deflection wasn’t working.

“Sammy is under the impression that I may have a daughter,” Dean blurted out quickly.

Cas was silent for a moment, taking in what Dean was saying.

“Well, is it such a surprise? You engage in a lot of sexual activity from what I’ve heard,” Dean didn’t know if Cas was joking or just being Cas.

“Dude, seriously, what the hell! Why does everyone think I’m stupid enough to forget a condom? I’m not irresponsible!”

“You do realise that no protection is a 100% effective Dean,” Cas sounded amused, “But, who is the girl you think you fathered?”

“Not me, Sammy,” Dean growled out.

Cas waited.

“Y/N. It’s Y/N,” Dean finally mumbled.

“The hunter you met on the case?” Cas was surprised. “That doesn’t seem odd to you? Meeting a hunter who is potentially your offspring on a case, while we’re supposed to be dealing with the darkness?”

Dean paused. “You think this is what – some kind of a trick?”

“It does seem like too much of a coincidence, Dean, don’t you think?”

“No,” he said after considering the situation. “And even if it is, Y/N is not involved. There is just no way. She was more shocked when Sam said it than I was. Unless she’s the best teenage actress on the entire fucking planet, there’s no way you fake a reaction as strong as that.”

Perhaps the intensity in his voice surprised Cas, because he didn’t say anything for a long time while Dean got his anger in check. He didn’t care who he was to her, he was already protective over the kid. The thought of her being used for some plot against them set his blood on fire. He wouldn’t lose anyone like he did Charlie ever again – never.

“I didn’t say the child was involved, Dean,” Cas said slowly, as if scared of incurring Dean’s wrath. “I only meant to bring up the possibility that if anyone on either side knew about her, the child might be in danger. Be careful. Please.”

Dean calmed down immediately at that. Cas was just looking out for him, like he always did.

“I don’t know how anyone could have known. Hell, I don’t even actually know yet. It’s just speculation, Cas. It’s not like we can waltz in and get a paternity test. I’m supposed to be legally dead.”

He had hated when the kid had pointed it out, but she made sense.

“If I could perhaps see the child, get a good look at her soul, I would be able to confirm it for you,” Cas said thoughtfully. He knew Dean’s soul like the back of his hand. He would recognise a piece of it anywhere.

“Alright, one – stop calling her ‘child’ Cas, she’s not a toddler. And B, you’re still recovering. You need to concentrate on healing. We can live a few more days without knowing.”

“This is something I can do Dean. Let me. It doesn’t require me exerting myself and it would help you. Bring her to the bunker, I’ll be here.”

Dean knew Cas wouldn’t budge. He detested ‘not being useful’.

“Fine. I’ll talk to Sam and Y/N about it and we’ll head your way if she decides to join us,” he conceded.

“What? No, Dean. You need to bring her here. She could be in danger,” Cas stressed out.

“I’ll figure something out. I can’t force her to come or she’ll never trust me again Cas. Kid’s already hesitant to accept help. If we rush her, we’ll lose her for good.”

Dean wasn’t happy about it, but he knew better than to push her. He remembered kids at his short stint in the boy’s home, how guarded they were. He knew she’d had it worse and it killed him to think about it, so he pushed it to the back if his mind.

“Alright Dean. See you soon then,” Cas said.

“Yeah buddy. You rest up, alright? If we’re going to do this, you need to regain your strength first.”

“Bye Dean.”

He hung up as he was pulling up outside the motel. After parking the car, he walked to their room for the night hoping to take a shower. He hadn’t been able to after the hunt and had received more than a couple of odd looks at his appearance while at the bar. Still made an impression on the bartender, he thought smugly, opening the door and then promptly freezing at the sight in front of him.

Y/N was sleeping with her head in Sam’s lap as he sat next to her, still stroking her hair. She had clearly been crying and even Sam’s eyes looked a little red.

Sam looked up when the door opened, his hand immediately going for his gun before he saw Dean and relaxed. He looked at Y/N and gently lifted her head, placing it on the pillow, before motioning to Dean to step back outside.

“What the hell happened,” Dean immediately snapped at his brother as soon as the door closed behind them. Sam took a laboured breath, not reacting to Dean’s anger.

“We talked. She’s scared Dean. I don’t know what exactly happened in her life but it was bad. Bad enough that she hyperventilated at the thought of having to go to school. And not in the normal teen angst kind of way. It was – She’s had it rough, man.”

Dean pulled at his hair. “How am I supposed to fix this, Sammy? I don’t know the first thing about being a dad! Let’s be honest, we didn’t have the greatest example of one.”

Sam was surprised. Dean usually didn’t admit Dad’s faults. He watched as Dean paced in the corridor.

“A daughter, Sammy,” Dean’s voice broke as he finally allowed himself to feel the overwhelming panic that he’d been pushing down the entire night.

“Dean? Hey! De, calm down,” Sam gripped his shoulders, making him stop.

“What the hell are you talking about man? You practically raised me! It’s gonna be a challenge and you’re probably gonna screw up along the way but you’re gonna do right by that kid. I know this because I know you. I know how good you are at this because I saw it first-hand. We’re gonna figure this out and we’re gonna do it together – like we always do.”

Sam didn’t remember the last time his brother had let himself be this vulnerable in front of him. Dean had always been the rock, the adult. He watched as Dean slowly got himself under control and patted his neck to assure him that he wasn’t alone. Dean nodded, getting rid of the remaining anxiety in his body. He could do this. He had to. He’d missed out on fifteen years already.

“We need to take her to the bunker with us. Tell me you managed to get through to her?” Dean almost pleaded with Sam.

“I don’t know man. I tried, and I think I made some headway but I don’t know if she’s gonna agree to come with us so soon.”

Sam didn’t get the urgency in Dean’s expression and figured there was probably more to the story. So, he asked him.

“Cas thinks she might be in danger. That it wasn’t just a coincidence that we found her on the same hunt as us. Sammy, if anyone got wind of this…” Dean trailed off as a look of absolute terror came over his face. Sam felt the fear in his bones too, but for once he had to be the rock. So, he steeled himself and gripped Dean’s shoulder tighter, grounding him.

“We’ll figure it out. We’ll keep her safe,” he promised.

“Keep me safe from what?”

Dean looked behind Sam and saw Y/N standing in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest as she looked at them for an answer.

Dean looked back at his brother and his face reflected the same thought that was currently running through Dean’s head. Shit. Chapter 6

TAGS:

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If anyone else would like to be tagged, please send me an ask (: Thanks for reading!

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam x reader #castiel x reader #platonic relationships #Cee tries to write

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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 3 years

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Irresistible Danger - Part 61

Synopsis: After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 2,591

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

Taking Care of Business

You were in shock and at a loss for words, while Amber’s impatient expression as she stared you down meant that she obviously expected you to say something. When it became apparent that you weren’t going to kickstart this lovely conversation, she gave an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes before breaking the silence with a haughty voice that instantly grated on your nerves.

“Well, are you going to let me in, or what?”

Your subconscious gave a resounding scream of ‘fuck off!’ and hissed at Amber, while your brain warned to proceed with caution. The last thing you wanted right now was a fight, but it wasn’t clear which path led to a worse confrontation: letting her in or telling her to leave. Deciding to attempt civility, you clamped down the words ‘I’d really rather not’ that were on the tip of your tongue, and instead gave a small nod and stood back from the doorway to let her in. The sickly sweet smell of flowers hit when she passed by, and you had the incredibly random thought of where the fuck does she get perfume in an apocalypse?

Ignoring the unimportant question, you watched as she glanced around your room, eyes flickering over the small bed, the wooden chair piled with clothes, and then the stack of old rickety crates holding your belongings. Her face scrunched up in utter disdain of the meager surroundings, solidifying what Ben had once said about her coming from a privileged background before the apocalypse. Her room upstairs probably had all kinds of fancy furniture and clothes. You wanted to feel annoyed, even a bit ashamed, but then remembered whose bed you were now spending the night in and immediately lost all sense of self-consciousness. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter what material possessions she might own, because you had Negan and she didn’t. No matter how this conversation went, that fact wasn’t going to change, and nothing she said was going to ruin your newfound happiness. You were still nervous and feeling a bit cagey being in the same room as the woman who was far from your biggest fan, but the security of knowing where you and Negan stood with one another helped you to keep calm and project an air of indifference.

However, you still didn’t want to play this too arrogantly, and decided not to close the door the entire way, pushing it so that there was still a centimeter of space keeping it unlatched. The crack was small enough for her to not have noticed, and gave you that extra padding of reassurance. You didn’t trust her one bit, and wanted an easier exit, if necessary, or a way to hopefully be heard if you yelled for help. Not that you were too worried about a physical confrontation; you looked up and down her petite, small frame and thought, you can take her if you have to. The subconscious gave an aggressive yell of agreement and stared Amber down with laser-like focus.

Not wanting to make any assumptions, you decided to stand there silently and wait her out. It didn’t take long, as she abruptly turned to you with a sneer and said, “I bet you’re feeling mighty proud of yourself right about now.”

Well then, guess we’re going with no pretense or attempt at subtlety. Raising your brows in surprise, you honestly replied, “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” You were certain this had to do with Negan, but weren’t sure if it was in regards to the last few weeks, if she had heard about the scene in the cafeteria, or, perhaps, it was something else entirely.

She narrowed her eyes at you and practically hissed, “Don’t play stupid with me. I know that you’re the one who convinced him to throw us all out.”

You couldn’t hide the look of utter surprise at her words. Had Negan said something to the wives today? But when?! You had seen him off on the run to the outpost this morning, and there had only been perhaps a 20 minute space of time from when his men had sat down for dinner and he himself had entered the cafeteria. Had he spent that small chunk of time talking to his wives?

Apparently so, as Amber confirmed a few seconds later.

“I can’t believe he would just march in there and tell us, tell me, that we’re not needed anymore.” She scoffed, as if the idea was laughable. “And I bet it was your idea that we lose our rooms too, right? You couldn’t even let us stay where we were, let us be on the same floor as him. No, you somehow convinced him to kick us out, and tell us we’re to ‘reintegrate into the community’. What the fuck!”

She had used her fingers in air quotes around the reintegrate part, which would’ve been a bit humorous if not for her screeched curse at the end. Your emotions were all jumbled, since part of you wanted to fist pump with joy that Negan had decided to officially move out his wives and make them a part of the community, while another part of you knew that to let your happiness show would only cause Amber to escalate. And while you didn’t feel too bad for her, especially considering the way she’d treated other women like Maria and Trixie, you could still relate on a human level to the shitty feeling of being unwanted. It was that little crumb of empathy that you tried to lead with, despite the subconscious begging you to just bypass all that and use a fist instead.

“I honestly wasn't aware that he did that,” you said, hoping she could hear the sincerity in your voice. “I understand that it’s gotta be frustrating to-”

“Don’t try to feed me bullshit by saying you understand!” she interrupted, eyes blazing with anger. “You think that just because you waltzed in there with your little food trays and spread your legs for him whenever he wants that it makes you better than us. You could’ve played by the rules and become a wife like the rest of us, but nooo. You must think you’re really fucking special, to screw us all over and wreck the entire system! News flash bitch, you’ll never be enough to satisfy him, and he’ll get bored with you soon enough. Then we’ll see how much you ‘understand’ when the tables turn and he asks us to come back while you’re the one tossed to the side! Because that’s what will happen in time, and it’ll make him look weak and indecisive to the entire community. I hope you’re prepared for that, for his potential downfall to be all. Your. Fault!”

Well so much for going the empathetic route, you thought as a spark of anger burned in your gut. She stood there, breathing heavily from her outburst and wearing a cruel smirk as she waited to see what effect her words would have on you. Said effect was that both your subconscious and brain were now wielding swords, ready to go to battle and take her out.

Any desire to try and make peace flew out the window, as you saw through her act and straight to exactly what she was trying to accomplish by confronting you. How dare she take her own hurt and insecurities and try to throw them back on you. And what made you extra mad was how calculated they were to cause injury. She had spit the words with pure venom, designed to seep into your veins and poison all confidence that what you had with Negan was real.

If she had said this to you even two days ago, it might’ve actually worked, might’ve combined with that padlocked box of questions and been the tipping point to send you over the edge into fully believing every word. There had also been the ball of self-doubt, which until the other night had been constantly following you around and whispering that Negan would never give up a group of women who were always at his beck and call for someone as independent and outspoken as you. That he couldn’t possibly change his rules so completely for you. That he couldn’t possibly love you.

But this wasn’t two days ago, and you knew better now.

Spine stiffening, you stared Amber down and said in a cool yet stern voice, “It’s obvious that nothing I say will make you happy, unless it’s that I leave Negan alone and let you have him.” You saw her eyes spark in anticipation at the words, as if she expected you to do just that. “But that’s not going to happen.”

Her fists clenched at her sides, and she opened her mouth, probably to spout more vitriol. But you weren’t having it. In fact, she wasn’t even worth the effort of fighting, and refusing to spend another second entertaining her bullshit would be a more satisfying win than arguing back and forth.

“I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“Why you-”

“Leave, Amber. Before this escalates and ends in a public and unattractive way. Unless you want others to see you escorted out of the Sanctuary.”

You were possibly talking out your ass with that last bit, since you didn’t have the authority to ban anyone from the compound. However, she didn’t need to know that, and you could tell that the threat worked when her mouth clamped shut, eyes blazing with hatred as she marched towards you. For a moment, you had the fear that she was going to start a physical altercation. Instead, she angrily stomped past, a hair’s breadth away from knocking into you as the pungent smell of fake flowers trailed after her.

“This isn’t over, bitch.”

The words were said as she grabbed the knob and threw back the door dramatically. It flew open and slammed into the wall, swinging mere inches from your face. It would’ve been an impressive exit, except that she had barely set foot out into the hall when every muscle in her body went taut as a bowstring, and her face drained of all color as she looked at something up and to the left.

Taking a step forward to glance out the doorway, your eyes widened in shock at the sight of Negan standing right outside. You weren’t sure how long he had been there, but seeing as how the door had been unlatched and opened a crack the entire time, he had to have at least heard the end of your conversation.

Her mouth opened but no words came out, and you knew that she was frantically trying to come up with a way to twist the situation. If given enough time, she’d make herself look squeaky clean and try to manipulate things so that it would appear as if the confrontation was somehow your fault. Rather than give her time to come up with a bullshit excuse, Negan spoke first, his tone low and deadly serious.

“Don’t say a fucking word. Nothing’s changed from what I told you earlier, and I don’t want any more fucking feedback about it. You and I are fucking done, and if you can’t handle that, then you’ll be escorted the fuck out first thing tomorrow morning, just like she fucking said.”

You felt a spark of satisfaction at his agreement with your threat to make her leave, at the way he stood in solidarity with you. Amber deflated slightly at his words, but she still glanced back at you over her shoulder, eyes shooting daggers. Unable to help one moment of pure pettiness, you looked her square in the eye and got the last word.

“I’d say this is fucking over.”

She knew she’d been beaten, you could see it written all over her face. But Amber was prideful, and she’d not crumple in front of an audience. Instead, she held her head high and walked quickly past Negan without a second glance. The two of you watched her march down the hall and disappear into the stairwell, and you had a feeling that, despite her brave face, she was going to find somewhere private to hide and lick her emotional wounds.

Negan turned to you, the anger slipping from his expression as he scanned up and down your body, as if to make sure that there was no physical injury. Thankfully, all wounds had been emotionally inflicted and they were nothing more than shallow cuts, rather than the deep stabs Amber had been hoping for.

“How long have you been standing there?”

His lips curled up into a pleased smirk, as he replied, “Long enough to know that you had the situation fucking handled, and didn’t need my help.”

You huffed out a tiny laugh at that, pleased to know that while he had been listening, he hadn’t just charged in and taken over. He’d been willing to stay back and let you deal with the conflict on your own...had trusted your ability to take care of it.

You started to exit the room and close the door, but halted when he said, “Why don’t you pack a bag first.”

“What?” you blinked rapidly at him in confusion.

He shrugged casually, as if to try and offset the seriousness of his words. “Since you’re spending nights with me, it only makes fucking sense to move some of your stuff up to my room. Maybe then you won’t keep stealing my fuckin’ toothbrushes and clothes. Maybe if you ask nicely enough, I’ll even clear out a drawer or two.”

It took a few seconds to process that Negan had just done the apocalypse version of asking you to start moving in with him. Your subconscious and brain had linked arms and were twirling in a circle while tossing confetti into the air, but you tried to act as cool and casual as Negan had about it, nodding and turning back into your room. It wasn’t until you were sure he couldn’t see your face that you allowed a huge grin and silent scream of excitement.

Grabbing the brown sack, you threw in half your t-shirts (aka the ones that were currently clean) and the navy blue gym shorts. A slight blush tinted your cheeks as you tried to quickly and discreetly throw in a few pairs of underwear and socks, though you knew he was standing in the doorway and watching your every move. You also grabbed the toothbrush and toothpaste, but left the shower items. Negan had plenty of those to share, and you weren't willingly giving up the luxury of his fluffy towels and fancy soaps. You topped off the bag with some extra hair ties, a comb, and the copy of Harry Potter. It wasn’t everything, but it put enough of a dent in your belongings that you wouldn’t need to stop back here every evening after dinner, and could instead go straight to his rooms.

Walking towards him, you went to sling the bag strap up over your arm, but he held out his hand, palm up in offering. You gave a joking eye roll, but passed over the bag so that he could sling it up over his own broad shoulder. Instinctively reaching for his hand, you laced your fingers with his and gave a squeeze of thanks, as the two of you started off down the hall and upstairs to his room.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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