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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 11 months

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𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑳𝑬𝑺𝑺 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 ║ Chapter 1 - If the Moon Smiled

| ENDLESS NIGHT | series masterlist | main masterlist | | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader, Ellie Williams x platonic!fem!OC/reader | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 3.7k | CHAPTER WARNINGS: none | CHAPTER SUMMARY: Your next project as Jackson’s Community Coordinator looms on the horizon as you look to start Phase 1. It is your passion project, and one of your two newest residents is the key to getting it off the ground. The only problem is you’ve been asked to hold off until they’re ready for your integration process. How will you fill your time as you wait out the holding period?

║ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳ ║⋄── •✧• ──⋄║ ＮＥＸＴ ║

✧⋄⋆•✧⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆•⋆⋄── •✧• ──⋄⋆•⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•⋆⋄ ✧ "𝙸𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙾𝚏 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐." ─ Sʏʟᴠɪᴀ Pʟᴀᴛʜ ✧⋄⋆•✧⋄⋄⋆⋅⋆✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆•⋆⋄── •✧• ──⋄⋆•⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧•⋆⋄ ✧

“So that’s, what? Seventy five people roughly? Maybe a hundred if we’re smart about how we use the space?” you estimate. You scan the open, empty building, unsure of its past use. It may have been a small warehouse once upon a time, but you didn’t have much to go on other than the run-down metal framing that felt more like a cage in the noticeably barren space. A few derelict shelves and dingy, rotting wood pallets were the only accents to the vacant building. You scribble a few notes onto your signature clipboard before turning your attention back to your collaborator. “Seventy five? Yeah, I’d wager that. Not sure about the hundred mark. ‘Course I wasn’t exactly a fire marshal in my day,” Tommy joked. His nose crinkled into one cheek as his lopsided smile gathered his features closer. You brighten in reply and survey the space closer.The long neglected building might not be the most glamorous thing you’ve ever seen, but the more projects you saw to completion in Jackson meant fewer top-notch locations and buildings to choose from. You considered it an accomplishment of sorts that you had overseen so many growth initiatives as Jackson’s community coordinator - or was it “resident liaison” that Maria had bestowed as your title? you couldn’t really remember - that the first pick of the bunch for your newest endeavor was this obsolete structure.

It wasn't all bad. The most prominent and inviting element of the space had to be the symmetrical row of towering windows that lined the main walls. Natural light was unparalleled in what it brought to a room, and with Jackson logging so many gray, wintry days, it would provide some much needed figurative and literal shine to the community.

Your mind began to work in the way all of Jackson had come to know and value. Seeing the little pieces scattered and plugging them together until they fit or could be neatly rearranged into something else. You were good with people, but you were even better at seeing the possibilities and potential in them. You wouldn’t call yourself a “fixer” by any means, but you were undeniably effective and influential. Your talents also translated well into projects that cropped up around town. “Don’t reckon I’d exactly wanna have 75 people in here, though,” Tommy remarked. His expression had waned from self-amused to skeptical as he joined you in gauging the condition of the building. It wasn’t abandoned, per se, but it certainly hadn’t received the sort of upkeep needed to make it a viable entertainment space for the community to enjoy. “I know it’s not much to look at now, but we really need to prioritize another space where people can socialize. It’s not a population boom or anything, but Jackson has been growing steadily,” you mention as a reminder of what brought you to this building in the first place. You pause and take a moment to jot down another memo to yourself for later review. “It’s inevitable that we’re gonna end up having to make use of what we can, even if it’s . . let’s just say ‘suboptimal.’” You can tell Tommy isn’t shoulder to shoulder with your idea but doesn’t want to shut you down outright. You decide to double down on your petitioning, knowing he will come around once you can make him see the promise of the space. You do, however, have to remain realistic. “So, 75 people capacity on the lower end of the estimate. That’s not really much more than the Tipsy Bison. Plus, this place needs a lot of work.” “Now that I can attest to,” Tommy agreed. “Definitely some structure work on top of all the obvious updatin’.” Between the two of you, Tommy was definitely the authority on construction limitations and stipulations. You respected Tommy’s merits, professional and personal alike. His past experience with his family contracting business as well as all the work he contributed to Jackson had earned him a well-deserved rapport with everyone. “Still doesn’t solve the space problem, though,” you surmise. You breathe a contemplative sigh, lost in the brainstorming of your latest project. You swept your eyes across the dilapidated bordering on unviable space, landing on the large roller shutter doors lining the back wall. “What does this open up to?” you wonder aloud, making your way towards the exits. It was unlike you to not already know what was beyond the wall, but the thrill of intrigue at all the possibilities that lie in wait placated any qualms you had with yourself for not having explored it already. “Hm, not sure what’s out back. Not a whole lot goin’ on down at this end of town,” Tommy pointed out. “One of the things that makes it such a good spot. Nothing in the way,” you counter as you turned the knob of the rickety door in the far corner of the rear wall. The hinges made a shrill creaking sound as you pulled the door open. It served as an auditory reminder of how much attention and diligence this project would require.

Your eyes adjusted quickly to the sunlight thanks to the copious natural light the windows inside provided. What had once been a smooth, paved terrace was now a splintered mess of concrete spanning about 50 feet from the exit. Clusters of grass shot up between any fissure and littered the entirety of the strip until it converged with an overgrown stretch of brush, weeds, and greenery. A large tree loomed off to the right, the outskirts of the settlement in the distance behind it.

“Yeah, not much goin’ on,” Tommy repeated as he followed behind you.

“It’s perfect,” you breathe. “You’re not bein’ serious.” Tommy’s brows scrunched together so tight they almost joined. He propped his hands on his hips, scrutinizing the unruly field sprawling in front of you both. “Dead serious,” you chirp. “How in the hell-,” Tommy starts to squabble.

“So, the Tipsy Bison has about the same capacity as this building, which doesn’t work because too many people and not enough room is already the problem,” you rattle off without hesitation. You hop along the remaining solid fragments of concrete further onto the lot as you unveil your masterful resolution. “Yeahhhh?” Tommy drawls, still waiting for your proposal to make sense. You held back a grin. Being right is always more fun in the end when you have to work for it.

“So, we have what the Tipsy Bison has - a similar building capacity, but–” you pause for impact –“the Tipsy Bison doesn’t have THIS.” You gesture widely to the surrounding area. Tommy looked back and forth between the overrun spectacle you were proposing to him and to you a few times, searching for something to pin his faith on. His eyes squinted for a moment, looking as though he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Your emphatic smile finally evoked a response.“I’d say it’s a good thing the Tipsy Bison doesn’t have . . this,” he finished, a wrinkle to his nose adding the touch of disdain already present in his voice.

“Tommy,” you fuss. “When have I ever let us down?”

To that he cocks his head to the side and nods. “Can’t argue with that,” he concedes. “Never missed the mark yet.”

After being vetted and approved by Jackson’s leaders about 5 years ago to join the settlement, you took on your current role at Maria’s behest. Adjusting to life here was difficult for many - the reasons were as diverse as they were extensive - and it was an increasing need for someone to act as guide and intermediary for all the new faces cropping up. Within the first day of a newcomer’s arrival, you quickly became the face that embodied Jackson and the second chance at life it offered.

You made short work of getting to know people and pinpoint where they best fit into the enterprise of Jackson. Of course you gleaned any valuable trade or skill they possessed, but many readily volunteered their personal stories: what their life was like when the outbreak happened if they were alive then, what

kind of job did they have, what sort of things motivated them, what they hoped to get out of Jackson and give in return, what sort of things generated or shattered their loyalty, who their family was, how many of them had made it to Jackson with them, where they had come from, if they had an prior experience with other settlements . . . You were a helping hand and an open ear, and people couldn’t seem to help divulge all the things weighing on their minds. You had been told before that you had “kind eyes,” and maybe that, along with your small frame and stature, made you seem like just the right amount of trustworthy and non-threatening confidant. Whatever the case may be, you found that people tended to broadcast their inner worlds to you without much effort on your part. You knew part of letting their guard down so quickly was due to the relief so many felt once inside the safe walls of Jackson: they opened up simply because they could. And Jackson was all the better for it.

Since joining all those years ago, you had taken a pivotal role in orchestrating a successful, thriving community. You were proud to have played a part in the beautiful settlement you called home. Being able to size someone up quickly and with devastating accuracy was an inherent skill you had utilized to its fullest extent, and it was what made you so invaluable. On a personal level, it meant you were never left guessing what someone was thinking or how they might be feeling; even if you didn’t know every gritty detail, you could come up with an adequate assessment. Tommy’s affirmation came as no surprise, but the usually easygoing and agreeable side of him was still on the fence with your proposed venue. “As much as I trust you know what you’re doin’, I really don’t follow.” Tommy studied the unruly greenspace and crumbling concrete underfoot as though if he stared at it long enough it would reveal its hidden potential so readily apparent to you. “We make it an indoor and outdoor spot,” you explain. “Uh. Okay. The indoor I get. Sort of.” He glanced back at the building as though he doubted his own appraisal. “The outdoor . . .,” he trailed off, glancing back outward. “I know it’s not exactly a tropical paradise here, but we can have an outdoor entertainment space regardless. It gets warm enough for long enough that it would be put to good use,” you contested. Tommy starts to debate that assertion, but you continue. “Plus, we can work outdoor firepits or fireplaces into the space to extend and maximize its use.” Tommy shook his head. “I mean, I would love for all of what you’re sayin’ to happen, but we just get too much snow here for it to work.” He isn’t totally off base with his concerns. Jackson got more snow than anywhere you had ever lived, and it was probably why nowhere in the settlement had a dedicated outdoor space for entertainment or socializing. Still, you knew there was a way to make this feasible.

“You know how igloos work?” you asked, making the final lap on your proposition.

“No fuckin’ way,” Tommy howled with laughter.

“Yes fuckin’ way,” you snip back with feigned indignation. “Seriously, think about it,” you urged. “We get enough snow, like you said. And it wouldn’t be year-round use out here, I get it, but with three different spaces we can more than accommodate a good sized crowd. Jackson’s headcount keeps going up, and we gotta get creative sometimes with how we’re going to keep pace with that.” “Three spaces?” Tommy repeats with a puzzled look. “Inside, of course. And then outside, a social firepit hangout . . thing, on the patio, and then converted into igloos over winter,” you summarize. “I can’t believe you’re actually-,” Tommy mutters audibly, a laugh reemerging. “So are you with me or am I gonna have to tell everybody you rejected it?” It’s an empty threat, but Tommy doesn’t want to even consider that sort of a cloud over his head. A resigned sigh marks your victory. “Alright. I surrender,” Tommy says goodnaturedly. “So when do you wanna start this thing?” You are peering up at the flat backing of the building, envisioning the flickering images of an outdoor movie night lighting its expanse. “As soon as we can. Gonna host an outdoor movie night to kick off the summer.” “An outd- What?” Tommy’s thoughts totter, following your line of sight. “Ah, of course. Good thing I was all in from the start.” You shoot him an amused, withering smile but relish in your win nonetheless. “So you wanna put together your team to build this thing or …?” Tommy noticeably perks up with a devilish smile. “My team? No, not quite. Not gonna be headin’ this project up,” he corrects. “What? But you just said-,” you blurt out. He holds up a hand to silence your appeal, and a crinkly-eyed grin tells you that you are in trouble. “I’m not the hombre you want for a project this big,” Tommy says, his words laced with mischief. “But I know just the guy.” You never much liked when the tables were turned, but you sat in silence waiting for Tommy to reveal his mystery man. As if the crinkly-eyed grin was bad enough, the eyebrow that sprung into his forehead assured you that Tommy took pleasure in giving your energy back to you, and you weren’t sure you were ready for whatever he was about to throw at you.

“Have you met my brother yet?” he asked with a deceptively innocent air.

Tommy volunteered himself to break the news to his older brother that he had been assigned as head of the build. You assured Tommy you were more than happy to introduce yourself and the project to his brother, but Tommy insisted. “Don’t worry yourself too much,” he chortled. “You’ll have plenty of chances with this one to put your people skills through the wringer.”

You weren’t entirely sure what he meant by that or why it seemed to bring him so much childish amusement. Tommy was perpetually good-natured and easygoing. It was something that you banked on when you helped him and Maria get together. Tommy’s brother wasn’t his twin brother, but you couldn’t imagine he’d be a massive deviation from the Miller brother you knew.During their short arrival and departure from Jackon several weeks ago, Tommy’s brother and niece flew under your radar as you had been preoccupied trying to orchestrate and implement a sustainable pig and bacon venture.

It had been a sort of pipe dream of Tommy’s, and you knew just about everyone would be thrilled if bacon became a reality. It was the small things people tended to value the most, the things that were so easy to take for granted before the outbreak happened, and bringing them back was well-received and improved morale.

It felt good to bring people happiness in this world that had fallen into complete desolation. Life inside the safety of Jackon’s walls offered something of a safe haven, but so many were well acquainted with the horrors that existed just outside its gates.

When you expressed your disappointment at having missed all the excitement, Tommy reassured you that they would be returning in the coming weeks or months. When they eventually did return, you stopped by Maria and Tommy’s to field any useful information from the pair on Jackson’s two newest residents as well as get up to date with Maria’s pregnancy.

Tommy made the odd request that you postpone the normal introduction phase you had all but mastered over the years. His reasoning was vague, but it was essentially that his brother and niece “needed a little more time to adjust” before your customary acclimation proceedings would be of any use.

Tommy tried to put you more at ease with the atypical initiation by explaining that even though their visit last time had been short, Maria had given them a rundown of everything and situated them in a house that they had since reoccupied. Sensing your remaining misgivings, Tommy added that they had “been through a hell of a lot” in their time away. You were hopeful Maria would help to fill in the gaps to Tommy’s chronicle, but she seemed hesitant to do so.

“They’re just a special situation,” she mollified. “You’ll still have your work cut out for you if you’re at all worried about losing out on a new challenge.”

Maria understood the way you almost gamified the successful transition of a new member. She was always shrewd like that, which is partly what made you apprehensive when you got the distinct feeling Maria didn’t much care for or trust her brother-in-law. She wasn’t as reserved when talking about the teenage girl, noting how she possessed a lot of great qualities. She felt her tongue was a tad sharp for what Jackson was used to, but she would do well if she leaned into her pluck and smarts. Overall she sounded like your typical teenager: combative, aloof, and in serious need of as much love you could pour into them.

Tommy’s brother on the other hand . . . Maria might be a bit firm and exacting in her discernment most of the time, but it was rare that she disliked someone. So far all you had deciphered was that Tommy’s brother was a tough nut to crack.

You didn’t completely agree with the revisions to your welcoming committee routine, but you respected Tommy’s request and kept your distance. You knew he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t truly compelled to do so. You may not have formally introduced yourself yet, but you acquainted yourself with his brother and niece nonetheless by way of casual observation. You had seen them around town several times, and you watched in fascination each time as they almost orbited around each other with magnetic harmony. Their movements were so subconscious yet so deliberate. It was the sort of osmosis that only came from a deep, immutable connection, and you thought back to Tommy’s vague words about the scope of hardship they had endured together.

It struck you how you and your baby sister Caroline operated in just the same way. You often communicated in an unspoken language only understood by the two of you: the synchronous existence split between two bodies. An inherent bond further forged by the horrors of the outbreak. A tiny pang pierced your chest at the memory of her.You could see just from watching them they had been in isolation for a long time. The pair unconsciously checked in with each other on a regular basis, and after a few days Tommy’s niece had even started to wander a little bit, much to her dad’s umbrage. She was definitely a powerhouse as Maria had alluded to.

Being accustomed to their isolation unfortunately meant they struggled with basic social interaction. Their body language screamed get me out of here any time there were more than 3 people in their vicinity. Even if the world hadn’t gone to hell in a handbasket, you didn’t get the feeling either of them would have been social butterflies in any hypothetical alternate universe.

Tommy’s brother was incredibly protective of his daughter. The few goofy, shy smiles she reserved only for her dad were so pure it almost made your eyes mist over. It was during one of those times you thought you saw the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly in response, but you hadn’t seen him unmistakably smile once during your observations.

It was all austere surveillance on his part. His eyes darted as he scoped out Jackson, refusing to settle his sight on any one thing for very long. His daughter was also standoffish, but she carried a perceptible warmth to her that her father lacked. You caught her exchanging more than just a handful of words to the grocer and the canteen worker. Tommy’s brother mostly seemed to communicate in nods and grunts. It was sort of Neanderthal-ish to you, and it was quite comical to observe.

You ended up not minding your little secret spy sessions in lieu of the normal introduction phase. You had a reason to be on the lookout for them, so you didn’t feel too appalled with your newfound hobby of ogling Tommy’s brother. He was incredibly handsome. Even from afar you took in his graying brown hair and beard, his jawline as it clenched whenever his daughter started walking too far from him, the broad build of his shoulders and chest. You thought to yourself if even one corner of his mouth wasn’t so downturned all the time he would probably have every eligible lady in Jackson swarming him. A fleeting thought crossed your mind that you would really love it if you were the one that could make him smile. Your summary of your observations was: they were each other’s everything.

In truth, they reminded you a lot of two feral bonded cats. There was no separating them, and if they even thought that was a possibility, claws out and blood drawn were on the agenda. As the window of postponement drew to an end, you had yet to determine what the exact technique would be for winning them over. You had gotten a moderate sense of who they were, but how well that would hold up once you actually spoke to them wasn’t conclusive.

You were beginning to understand what Tommy and Maria had meant when they told you your work was cut out for you. Your usual gentle but persistent prodding for new residents wasn’t going to cut it with these two. They weren’t going to let their guard down easily, and pushing it on them would only sound the alarm and send them running. You would just have to show them you could be trusted with their integration and let them come to their own conclusions about you.

You knew once all was said and done, your sense of pride at their complete integration would be your biggest achievement yet.

Thank you to everyone who read all of that and is maybe even reading this! I am so happy to finally be posting this fic! I've been working on it for a while now, and I'm really excited for you all to read it. I already have the sequel in progress, and they are both VERY long fics. Oopsie!

As for the chapter title, I love me some Sylvia Plath. She will show up again as a chapter quote or title. What do you make of our EnNi Gal®? She really has no idea what's in store for her. 👀💦 Joel certainly fits the description of "beautiful but annihilating."

Catch ya later,

♥Puddles♥

#fic: endless night #EnNi #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 2 years

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Kinktober Day 1 - Pet Play

Pairing: Ezra x f!Reader

Rating: E (explicit smut 18+ only!)

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Pet play, dark!Ezra, butt plug tails, cages, implied sexual assault (not by Ezra), implied attempted assault (again, not by Ezra), mentions of injuries, fingering, a bit of anal play, use of the word 'Master'

Summary: You had offered the man a deal: you got his protection, and he would have you, in whatever manner he deemed fit.

A/N: This starts abruptly, as I had just opened up a blank doc and started jotting down ideas and never figured out how to start this. I’m keeping it like this, though, and you can write your complaints on a piece of paper and set it on fire 🥰 It's Kinktober and we're not here for backstory now, are we? THANK YOUUUU to @pedropascalsx for looking this over for me, and to @leslie-lyman and @honestly-shite, my three whore gremlins who have dealt with screenshots of this and ALL of my kinktober prompts to the point where they probably have 90% of the fic in phone screen-sized pieces. I LOVE YOU ALL. Thanks also to @absurdthirst for the amazing Prompt List!!!

Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist

Abandoned on The Green, you had to find a way to survive. Ezra was the key to your continued existence. You weren’t a strong person. You weren’t good with weapons, you didn’t know what vegetation to eat, or how to trap small game. You were smart, but you weren’t exactly resourceful. Someone like you wasn’t going to last long on this feral planet with even wilder inhabitants.

It wasn’t just the atmosphere that could kill you. In fact, the non-breathable air was the least of your worries. The sort of people that make a living on The Green would fight amongst themselves to survive, and you? You’d be easy prey.

You were pretty, too–which made your fate far worse than those who simply couldn’t cut it as a prospector out here. They’d simply be killed for their resources, but you?

You were valuable in other ways.

You may not have been resourceful enough to make a living on your own here, but you were smart enough to understand that hooking your proverbial wagon to someone who could was your best bet of survival.

Enter Ezra.

You'd watched many prospectors come and go, and Ezra was the biggest and meanest of them all. There was nothing he wouldn't do to survive. There was a rumor he'd killed a girl in cold blood, although you couldn't know for sure how accurate that was–stories ran rampant through the tiny civilization of misfits on this planet, each more outlandish than the last.

Rumors aside, Ezra was a formidable character even with only the one arm. It made him even more feral, more quick on the draw. An animal that was caught in a trap became dangerous. An animal that had escaped said trap was dangerous and cunning.

You had offered the man a deal: you got his protection, and he would have you, in whatever manner he deemed fit.

Ezra had raised his eyebrow in amused surprise at your proposition–delivered with a puffed out chest and inclined chin as if to bolster what little height you had.

"That is a mighty brave offer, little one,” he had said. “Some might even call it ill-advised. What makes you so sure that I won't take you, use you, and throw you away just like those you're seeking refuge from?"

"You are not an honorable man," you had said (truthfully), "but I believe you are a practical one. You are accustomed to making deals on The Green."

A slow, dangerous smile had spread across Ezra's face. "You're a crafty little creature, aren't you? A survivor. You might not be a hearty jagosaur, but you have the instincts of a cockroach, or maybe a channel rat. You know how to fit yourself in and amongst the cracks of humanity–furtive and undetectable, and you’ll still be around when the last of us evil men have crumbled into dust. We have an accord, little one,” Ezra had said. “Consider yourself under my protection.”

The first thing you had learned about Ezra was that the man liked to talk.

The second thing you had learned was that he fully intended to cash in on his deal. He took you like a man starved, a man who had not been guaranteed softness in his life and wished to get his fill before his supply ultimately ran dry. You were his well; he drank from you until he was sated. He was surprisingly unselfish in bed, intent on bringing you to orgasm with his mouth and fingers before fucking you roughly from behind. Even when your release had taken quite a long time–you were tense and still more than a little afraid of the man–Ezra had pursued it doggedly until you had no choice but to fall apart for him.

Ezra was not a good man, by any means. He was not a nice man, a gentle man, or a loving man. He was kind, however; and far more good-natured than the rumors would have him appear. His sexual tastes ran both feral and dark–much like the man himself–but he balanced it out with a calm, quiet demeanor in the pod you now shared with him.

Your existence became an odd one. True to his word, Ezra was your fierce protector, keeping you away from prying eyes and grasping hands. In turn, he kept you almost as one would keep a pet. It was done out of an odd sense of affection, you thought; perhaps a way that this eccentric, somewhat antisocial man showed his love, if you could call it that.

Truthfully, after some time, you no longer minded it. You looked to Ezra and his unusual treatment of you as a comfort, of sorts. Affection was affection, and you were not immune to a kind hand and a strong, warm thigh to lay your head on.

The cage was a matter of contention, at first. It had practical applications; you could admit that, especially after a rogue prospector had broken into Ezra's pod while he had stepped out. Ezra had come back to you cowering in the corner, tears streaming down your cheeks, and his spare thrower leveled shakily at a scraggly, stinking man.

Ezra had dispatched the man quickly and without remorse before grabbing your shoulder almost desperately, looking you up and down with a feral look in his dark eyes.

"Did he touch you? Did he touch you?" Ezra had growled, flecks of spittle landing on his chin in his ferocity.

Your trembling hand had come up to touch the burgeoning bruise on your cheekbone without speaking in demonstration.

Ezra had softened, his own shaking fingers coming to touch yours. “My sweet little creature,” he had murmured. “My soft, pretty thing.”

“I’m okay,” you had assured him as he fussed. “Ezra. I’m okay.”

“I allowed harm to come to you,” he had murmured. “Never again, my pet. Never again.”

The cage had appeared shortly after. The bulletproof glass was practical. The impenetrable locks were crucial. The metal bars on the outside… well, those were an aesthetic indulgence on Ezra’s part. He could keep you there–naked, if he had a mind to–and no amount of tampering, nor bullets, throwers, knives, or bombs could net any interloper their prize. You were a kept creature; docile and tame, but yielding to him and only him.

Whenever Ezra left, you would wait for him there. He never left for long–always keen to keep a close eye on you, ensuring that nothing would ever happen to his most prized possession. This morning, he had told you he was going to go to the market to buy some supplies and some groceries for dinner. You always helped make food for the two of you–your two arms doing what his one cannot–and the two of you had fallen into a comfortable routine where you were his extra arms and he was your refuge.

No bad men came today to break into the pod and taunt the pretty, kept creature in its cage–for which you were thankful. You waited patiently for Ezra to return, laying on the soft, plush bed he had placed inside the cage for you, You were naked–as you often were. It was freeing, in a way; there were no body issues here, no insecurities, no imperfections. You simply were. You existed, and you existed for him. There was nothing else outside of that.

The door to the pod opened, and Ezra was there, in his EVA suit. You watched, biting your lip seductively as your keeper shed his clothes until he was only clad in his base layers. He scrubbed his hands clean of the toxins of the Moon, de-contaminated his suit, and sanitized his entire person for good measure before opening the door to your cage. After so long a time, you craved him. Quite a lot had passed between your first time together–when you had been a scared, timid thing. Now, you saw Ezra as comfort. Your hips wiggled back and forth in anticipation as you waited for the door to open.

“Come here, little one,” Ezra crooned. “Let me touch you.”

You crawled forward and joined him on his little cot, automatically laying your head in his lap. His hand stroked your hair, your face, your neck–touching any piece of skin he could reach. Soon, his hand would wander to the rest of your bare form–caressing the soft flesh of your side, the swell of your belly, the curve of your ass. Everything was his.

“My little creature,” Ezra said affectionately. “It was quite a busy day today at the market. A ship of new recruits came in the night before, and they were all fighting amongst themselves for supplies. A terrible brawl broke out over the last little piece of rope, can you believe that?”

You giggled. “Amateurs.”

Ezra hummed in agreement. “Indeed. There are quite a few exotic vendors right now. I saw a cart full of autumn pommerac,” he said. “We could make a nice soup.”

“Can I come tomorrow?” you asked hopefully. “I’d like to see some of the offerings.”

“Perhaps, my lovely pet,” he answered. “If you stay close.”

Stay close meant that you’d probably be put on a leash–for your protection, Ezra always insisted–but you didn’t care, as long as you could see the offerings for sale. The last time you had accompanied him, you had seen some sort of fruit that had been labeled ‘Void Apricots.’ You had laughed joyfully, pointing out the display to Ezra, who had bought six of them just to satisfy your curiosity.

They had been terrible.

Still, you wanted to experience the sights and sounds of the market. You gave Ezra your best ‘hopeful eyes,’ and your keeper smiled indulgently. “Tomorrow we’ll go see it together,” he promised. “If you’re good.”

“I’m always very good,” you protested, pouting slightly.

“Of course,” Ezra insisted, although his tone was one of teasing. His hand started to meander down your side to play with the little tail you were wearing–another one of Ezra’s indulgences. He had seen it in a market stall one day–a little firemetal butt plug with an abysskin tail attachment. Ezra had been partial to it in an instant, purchasing it and taking it back to his pod to play with it–you–immediately.

He gently fingered the silken strands of the tail as he continued to talk to you about the market, tugging lightly on it and making the plug shift ever so slightly inside of you. Your breath caught in a little gasp as the toy moved, and Ezra smiled.

“Little creature,” he said affectionately. “Do you need a little attention, hmm?”

You nodded, arching into his touch. “Yes,” you breathed.

Ezra kept playing with the little plug–rotating it, pulling on it, pushing it just that much deeper. You whimpered and bucked against his hand, wanting more, wanting less, wanting everything he had to give and more.

“One of these days, little creature,” Ezra drawled, “I’m gonna fuck you here. Gonna take out this cute little tail of yours and replace it with my dick, and see how prettily you scream for me.”

“Yes,” you agreed immediately. “Please–I want–”

“Not yet,” Ezra interrupted. “Have to train you to take me first, little pet.” His hand encircled your wrist in demonstration, fingers overlapping generously as he reminded you how much bigger he was in every way. “You’d cry for me,” he said. “You’d mewl and beg and plead and whimper for me. I could hurt you, you know.”

You nodded rapidly. “I know,” you told him. “I–I want it.”

Ezra’s fingers reached underneath the little tail to your weeping cunt. You were always wet for him, you craved him even though he was technically your captor. You wanted him, will never stop wanting him.

“Let me play with this pretty pussy instead,” Ezra murmured. “Let me make it sing for me, little pet.”

“Yes,” you said instantly. “Please.”

Ezra’s thick fingers penetrated your cunt, eliciting a little gasp from your lips. He meandered; he teased. He slid one finger in, wiggled it around, and withdrew to spread your labia, press against your clit, touch the place where the tail met your skin–over and over again, teasing you until you were mewling in his lap, squirming and writhing, trying to push back against Ezra’s hand to no avail.

“Please,” you breathed, barely audible. Your arousal was coating his fingers, dripping onto the bed. Ezra had this way of keeping you in a constant state of arousal; even when he made you cum, you’d want him again moments after.

“You know what I want to hear,” Ezra mumbled,

Your cheeks heated with humiliation. You knew. Oh, you knew. You knew, but it was always a little fight between the two of you, a question of whether you will yield or not–completely pointless, of course, because you always yielded in the end.

Ezra’s finger pressed down hard on your clit, then released. You broke.

“Please, Master–”

Ezra’s deep chuckle vibrated all the way down your spine. “Again,” he instructed.

You pressed your lips together, preventing the words from leaving your mouth.

Slap. Slap!

You yelped as Ezra’s flat palm came down on your pussy–once, then twice, setting the entire area alight with too much sensation. You may have screamed, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that as soon as you could find the words, you were begging for him.

“Master, please, you know I’ve been good, I’m always good for you, I’m a good pet, I–I please you, I–”

Ezra’s thick fingers plunged back into you, fucking in and out in earnest, rewarding you for your good behavior.

“Oh, yes, you do, little creature. I know just how good you are–how good to me, you do more than please me, little pet, you make me happy, you’ve given me more than I’d ever hoped for myself.”

“M-Master–” you breathed, overcome by the uncommon outpouring of feeling. “My name, if you please, pet. Scream it, again and again for me.”

You always were obedient for him. You whispered it, sang it, moaned it, gasped it, screamed it–over and over, until your voice was hoarse and your release was coating his fingers.

Ezra. Ezra, Ezra, Ezra–Ezra! Fuck–Ezra!

When it was all over, when you stopped shaking, stopped crying–Ezra stroked his fingers up and down your spine, shooting spikes of pleasure up and down your body, calming you down and making you soft and pliant.

“What about you?” you asked quietly–but his hard cock was starting to soften at the sight of you resting so serenely in his lap–the carnality replaced by a pleasure of a different, unnamable kind.

“In a moment,” Ezra promised. “I haven’t yet told you everything I’d seen at the market today.”

Condensed taglist:

@absurdthirst @radiowallet @katareyoudrilling @just-here-for-the-moment @ezrasbirdie @iamskyereads and this is a scheduled post and I can't be arsed to do any more. THANK.

#ezra #ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra x f!reader #prospect #prospect fancition #pedro pascal #kinktober 2022

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theseshipsshallsail · 6 months

Text

Summary:

This is where that minor panic attack tag comes in useful...

Chapter 7

Oliver’s tempted to loosen his belt buckle as he fills the porcelain wash basin with hot, soapy water. They’d each taken turns to shower and change upon retracing their steps to the villa, at which point Elio’d removed a brimming serving platter from the fully-stocked refrigerator. It really was a feast fit for a king, and savouring a classic vintage they’d gorged on nduja stuffed bell peppers, prosciutto figs, and peppery slices of fresh mozzarella, as an adorably resourceful sheepdog scavenged for crumbs at their heels.

“I’ll scrub, you dry?” he suggests, shutting off the steaming faucet.

“There speaks the voice of domesticité…” Elio replies, snatching a gingham towel from the oven door, but with one dish, four plates, and the bare minimum of cutlery, the task itself is over quickly. “How about a nightcap?”

Oliver grins, bewitched by their reflection in the kitchen windows. “With you? I’m open to anything.”

“Brave words, mon ami…” Elio leans his head on his shoulder then pulls the plug, sending the lathery suds gurgling to the drain. “I know I promised a private performance, but if Maman’s settled…”

“Then by all means we’ll take a raincheck,” Oliver replies, sneaking a kiss before fetching the bottle from the centre island. “I ought to be unpacking, anyway. And the last thing I’d want is to upset her.”

Elio’s expression oscillates between pride and regret as he tops up Polpetta’s water. “Actually, it’s quite the opposite.”

“How so?” Oliver asks, gathering their empty glasses.

“My playing has a tendency to break through her walls,” Elio tells him, ferrying the bowl to the vinyl mat beside her basket. “Both literally and figuratively. But in light of her late-night wanderings…”

“It’s a double-edged sword?”

Elio scritches the sleeping pup’s snout. “Indubbiamente.”

Which means there’s an elephant in the room; one they’ve been ignoring since their hedonistic interlude at the berm.

“So…” Oliver says, pouring out the remaining Barolo. “Bach can keep?”

Elio sips his drink. “Bach can keep,” he repeats, wine-stained lips ripe with invitation. “Your suitcase, too. But you know what needn’t?”

He does - of course he does - and Oliver throws caution to the wind as he curtails his inner-panic into outer-nonchalance. “Us.”

In theory, it should’ve been a continuation, rather than a standing start.

Like catching a single episode of a long-running TV show.

Or picking up a cherished book mid-chapter.

Same river: different water.

In practical terms, however, making love to Elio Perlman serves as a crude reminder that even the best-laid plans are subject to revision.

Let him dictate the pace: it was something Oliver’d deemed appropriate from their first, tenterhook conversation. His first call-me-home confessional. Hell, from the natural embarrassment that led Elio to glance away at the al fresco dining table; his blush camellia-pink as they’d reworked Leopardi’s Canti into gobbledygitalian. Beggars can’t be choosers, and he refused to push him. To take liberties. To come across as opportunistic in view of his ongoing divorce. Yet encased in the sultry heat of Elio’s bedroom their bodies seem almost frozen by the magnitude.

They give it their all. There’s no denying that. But two decades of gilded cages and calcified memories aren’t readily dispelled. Neither is the foreign discomfit that manifests like some grim prophet. A whispering spectre to catastrophize the sunspots marring his faintly-bronzed skin.

The tell-tale wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

The superficial elastosis of his hands and chin that he knows exists, even if Elio alleges he’s hardly aged a day.

Mouths part, but don’t press. Tongues probe, but don’t delve. Teeth scrape, but don’t bite. It’s mortifying. Excruciating. More akin to his virginal ninth grade fumblings. By and by, the awkwardness of disappointment morphs with the terror of disappointing, and stripped to their boxers and tees it soon becomes apparent they’re fighting a lost cause.

Oliver lays the fault at jeg lag’s door.

Elio - equally unsuccessful in rising to the occasion - asks if he’s being difficult? Distant?

Categorically not.

“Then what is it? What’s holding us back?” he asks, stacking his pillows against the headboard then sitting upright. “We've been building to this all afternoon.”

Plagued by uncertainty, Oliver cups his jaw. “We've been building to this from the second we met,” he replies, a nebulous dread shocking him to the core. “I don’t get why I can’t… why it’s not…”

Counting down from ten, he studies a Tiffany lamp on the side-table; a clammy layer of perspiration fusing his t-shirt to his sternum. It’s nothing short of suffocating, and all-too-attuned with the signs of an impending anxiety attack he grabs Elio’s elbow, cracking even farther under his kindness when the other man burrows in.

“Tu vas bien…” he murmurs with infinite compassion. “Respire avec moi, mon autre. In for three… pause for three… out for three.”

Nausea pools in his gut. “Elio…”

“That’s it,” he praises, cajoling softly. “Molto buona.” Gentle fingers cover his wrist. “Would it help to talk about it?”

Yes.

No.

Always, according to his therapist. But what else is there to say in this theatre of the absurd except -

“I’m nervous.”

Elio swallows. “Me too.”

Whatever their souls are made of, they’re cut from the same cloth.

“You’re the only man I’ve ever been with,” Oliver continues sheepishly, endeavouring to compose himself. “What if I’m no good at it? What if I’ve forgotten how?”

“And what if you have?” Elio asks, combing through his hair. “Those two phenomena aren’t mutually inclusive. It is often what one knows - or thinks they know - that prevents them from knowing more, is it not? Nobody learns to walk by observing a set of rules. They learn by doing. By failing. By getting right up and doing it all again.”

Even so: “It’s fine to say that now.”

“I’ll say it after, too,” Elio persists, cradling the base of his skull, and it would be funny - the pair of them sprouting lacklustre semis - if it wasn’t completely fucking harrowing to boot. “Yesterday's the past, vita mia. Today is a gift. And whatever does or doesn’t happen in this bed bears no influence on what happens tomorrow. Comprende?”

His tone spares no argument. There are none Oliver wants to give. “Could we just…” emerges instead, and Elio must see it - the lingering storm on the horizon - because the next thing he knows he’s being shimmied into a prone position; his head supported by a slender chest as wiry arms engulf him like a splint.

“Whatever you need,” Elio says, matching him breath-for-breath as he charts the juts of his protubing vertebrae. “Let me protect you, ouais? Let me take care of you for once?”

It’s something he’d done during the post-prandial siestas of 1983. When the knock-on effect of a punishing bike ride sapped them of their energy.

Up and down.

Round and round.

An unspoken proclamation of I’m here. I’ve got you. You don’t have to do this alone.

“There’s a time for rest, and another for words,” Elio says then, the modern equivalent of try again later, and Oliver gulps back sobs of gratitude as a chaste kiss busses his temple, the lub-dub thrum of his heart of hearts lulling him into blessed slumber.

#cmbyn fanfic #call me by your name #elio x oliver #new chapter #reunion

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5ummit · 2 years

Text

List of 400+ Kinks & Tropes

Below is an alphabetized and roughly categorized list every major kink, trope, and sex act used in fiction that I can think of (and I can think of quite a few). It certainly doesn’t have everything, but I’ve never found a more comprehensive list.

This list came about because I wanted to create a survey for my friend group so we could figure out exactly what we each like and dislike in our fiction for the purpose of gift fics, exchanges, and reccing. Is it normal to ask your friends how they feel about felching and mpreg and cannibalism? Probably not, but it sure is fun learning new things about each other and it’s good information to have if you want to write a fic for someone!

To make the list easier to navigate I've broken it down into the following sections (note many kinks and tropes could fit in multiple categories but I did my best to group them where I thought they made the most sense):

general sex acts

general sex types and locations

bodily fluids and excretions

body and body modification

clothing

BDSM

pain, torture, and horror

dub-con, non-con, and unhealthy dynamics

alternate universes

misc kinks

misc tropes and genres

Feel free to use this list to create your own surveys or as a reference for writing challenges, drawing inspiration, or whatever you want!

General Sex Acts

anal fingering

anal fisting

anal sex

blowjobs

cunnilingus

deep throating

double penetration

face fucking

face sitting

facials

handjobs

intercrural sex

masturbation

pegging

rimming

scissoring

threesome/multi-partner

toys - dildos

toys - plugs

toys - vibrators

vaginal fingering

vaginal fisting

vaginal sex

69ing

General Sex Types & Locations

angry sex/hatefucking

car sex

casual sex/fuck buddies

distant/distracted sex

drunk sex

gentle sex

mirror sex

phone sex

pool/bathtub sex

public sex

rough sex

safe sex

sex against a wall

sexting

shower sex

sleepy sex

Bodily Fluids & Excretions

bladder desperation

blood

bukkake

creampie

cum play

diapers

drool/drooling

lactation - female

lactation - male

felching

flatulence

menstrual blood

scat

snot/mucus

snowballing (cum swapping)

spit as lube

spitting in mouth

sweat

swallowing blood

swallowing cum

swallowing urine

tears/crying

vomit/vomiting

watersports

Body & Body Modification

anal gaping

anal prolapse

armpits

ass worship

belly/throat bulge

body hair

body worship

breast worship

cock worship

enemas

feeding/stuffing

fingers in mouth

feet

footjob

hair brushing/braiding

hair cutting

hair pulling

hickies

inflation

mpreg

nipple play

piercings - body

piercings - facial

piercings - genital

pregnancy

scars

shaving

tattoos

titty fucking

weight gain

Clothing

boot aesthetics

boot licking

boot stepping

clothed sex

corsets

costumes

crossdressing

formal wear

gloves

high heels

jewelry

latex

leather

lingerie

makeup

military uniforms

slutty clothes

underwear/panties

BDSM

aftercare

anal hooks

bathroom permission

begging

blindfolds

bondage - heavy

bondage - light

brat taming

breathplay

cages

chastity devices

cock rings

cockwarming

collar - dog

collar - choke

collar - prong

collar - shock

collaring - private

collaring - public

consensual non-consent (CNC)

daddy kink

discipline

dom female

dom male

edging

electric stimulation

forced orgasms

free use

fucking machine

gag - ball/bit

gag - medical/dental

gag - ring/spider

gag - phallic

gag - tape

hand feeding

handcuffs

harem

harnesses

hoods

human furniture

humiliation - private

humiliation - public

kink negotiations

kneeling

leashes

master/slave

masks/muzzles

orgasm denial

pet play

punishment

roleplay - adult baby

roleplay - ageplay

roleplay - animal

roleplay - hunter/prey

roleplay - medical

roleplay - teacher/student

role reversal

sadism/masochism

safewords

sensation play

sensory deprivation

shibari/rope art

slave/pet training

sounding

spreader bar

straightjackets

submissive female

submissive male

suspension

temperature play

tickling

traffic light system

Pain, Torture & Horror

amputation

beating

biting

blood as lube

blood loss

bloodplay

body horror

branding

broken bones

bruises

burns

caning

cannibalism

choking

cock & ball torture (CBT)

dislocation

electrocution

eye trauma

fear

figging

fingernail removal

fire play

flaying/skinning

fuckpotato (quad amputee)

genital mutilation

gore

head injury

interrogation

knife play

medical experimentation

mental torture

mouth sewn shut

necrophilia

needles

nipple clamps

nullification/castration

pain - extreme

pain - moderate

pain play

painful sex

poisoning

riding crops

scratching - deep

scratching - light

self-asphyxiation

self-cutting

self-mutilation

slapping - face

slapping - genitals

snuff/murder kink

spanking

starvation

suffocation/asphyxiation

suicidal thoughts

suicide

teeth pulling

tongue trauma/removal

tsumification

vore

waterboarding

waxplay

whipping

wounds - major

wounds - minor

woundfucking

Dub-Con, Non-Con & Unhealthy Dynamics

abuse - child

abuse - emotional

abuse - physical

abuse - verbal

brainwashing

codependency

coercion/blackmail

conditioning

dehumanization

domestic violence

drugging

forced crossdressing

forced enema

forced feeding

forced infantilism

forced masturbation

forced pregnancy

forced servitude

forced verbal feminization

fuck or die

gang rape

gaslighting

grooming/manipulation

hypnotism

issues - addiction

issues - body image

issues - food

issues - mental health

issues - self-esteem

kidnapping/abduction

lima syndrome

mind break

mind control

mutual non-con

non-con bondage

non-con hair cutting

non-con piercing

non-con tattoos

non-con touching

non-con somnophilia

power imbalance

rape with an object

rape victim female

rape victim male

rapist female

rapist male

sex pollen

stockholm syndrome

stuck & fucked/kabeshiri

Alternate Universes

alpha/beta/omega

animal-human hybrids

coffee shop

college

crossover/fusion

dystopian

fantasy/supernatural

gender swap

high school

historical

modern

no powers

pornstar/camstar

prison

royalty

sex worker/hooker

trans character

Misc Kinks

age difference

aphrodisiacs

barebacking

bestiality

breeding/impregnation

claiming/marking

cock milking

competence kink

coming in pants

coming on command

coming untouched

consensual somnophilia

cuddling

degradation

dirty talk

drug use

erotic dancing

exhaustion

fighting/wrestling

first time with partner

food play

frottage/grinding

furry

glory hole

guns/weapons

gunplay

incest

infidelity/cheating

jealousy

lapdances

licking

massages

micro/macrophilia

monsterfucking

multiple orgasms

mummification

object insertion

objectification - female

objectification - male

olfactophilia (scent kink)

open relationships

oral fixation

overstimulation

oviposition

pet names

praise kink

promiscuity

prostitution

public groping

sex tapes

sexual inexperience

shotgunning (sharing smoke)

size difference

size kink

sleep deprivation

sloppy seconds

smoking

spitroasting

stripping

sugar daddy

teasing

tentacles

underage - children

underage - teens

virginity

voyeurism

watching porn

wet dreams

wet & messy fetish

xenophilia

Misc Tropes & Genres

alcoholism

almost getting caught

amnesia

arranged/forced marriage

bad dirty talk

bad sex

bathing/washing

body swap

canon divergence

crack fic

de-aged character

domestic fluff

established relationship

enemies to friends to lovers

enemies with benefits

friends to lovers

friends with benefits

fake/pretend relationships

gender identity fic

getting caught

ghosts/paranormal

hanahaki disease

happy ending

healthy relationships

homophobic language

hurt/comfort

kid/baby fic

knotting

love triangles

magical healing cock

major character death

merpeople

miscommunication

mistaken identity

multiverse

only one bed

pairing - F/F

pairing - M/F

pairing - M/M

pairing - poly

pining - mutual

pining - unrequited

possessive

POV 1st person

POV 2nd person

PTSD

reader insert fic

real person fic (RPF)

religion fic

selfcest

sick fic

slice of life fic

soulmate identifying marks

soulmates

telepathic/empathic bonds

time travel

trapped together

unreliable narrator

unresolved sexual tension

vampires

werewolves

wing fic

zombies

#if you think I'm missing anything important #or think the terminology I used is incorrect or inaccurate #let me know!#these are obviously not all my kinks so I'm sure I'll get some things wrong #also some of these may seem really niche while others are more broad #but keep in mind I originally designed this list for my specific friend group #and my friends and I have very specific... tastes #reference #writing #my words

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crowcryptid · 2 years

Text

The surgery was a success

#when I turned it on.. there was. a spark. and it scared me. but everything seems okay #no smells or smoke or anything and everything is working so far #idk what caused it #but uh.. yeah.#i will note that I’m a fucking dumbass and didn’t realize I would have to remove my hard drive cage to fit 2 140 fans #so I gotta figure out what I’m gonna do #i need more storage space and the hard drive is currently loose at the bottom of the pc (in the mounting bracket so it’s not touching)#but I either gotta get a new m.2 or figure out where the hell im gonna put a regular ssd #anyway today I went through the journey of learning that my case has a stupid amount of screws and removable parts #even with a modular power supply I still can barely put on the ‘back’ side panel #the true good news is that I don’t have to order anything else other than figure out the storage situation!#the AIO has a fan hub which I was able to plug the case fans into #it’s late so I’m not gonna be able to test any games rn but the only thing I changed was cooling and the psu #so everything.. in theory.. should be running better now. more power. a lot more airflow. water cooling.

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annaofthenorthernlights · 3 years

Text

Cruising beyond sunrise

This is my fanfic-contribution to the Frozen Fanzine Volume 5: Summer lovin - organised by @frozines! Hope you enjoy - happy frozine everyone ❤️

Pairing: Kristanna, modern AU setting

Rating: G

Summary: Anna and Kristoff set out for their individual summer jobs on a cruising ship along Norway´s coastline. Meeting "accidently" on the way to Hamburg´s harbour, the journey spins off "kristanna-slow burn-style..."

Chapter 1 / 4 (find the complete fic on AO3)

Somewhere in Southern Germany

For Anna, the invitation for this summer job came right in time. All her family would not be there during those long following weeks. Her parents were abroad on business reason, and Elsa had decided to join the summer camp of the philharmonic orchestra. She was a fabulous harp player after all. But then, Anna felt lonely. After breaking up with that unfaithful brat of a boyfriend… It had already been so many weeks since the disastrous night, where she had walked right in the middle of things, with him being served in the most intimate ways by his secretary… Yack! Anna´s eyes still filled with tears of fury and disappointment when the scenery flashed back before her inner eye.

Her suitcase was finally packed, and all her music devices sorted and stored neatly within her luggage. Anna was ready to depart and embark on the summer trip of her life! If only she wouldn´t feel so lonely… Ah, well, soon she would be surrounded by lots of people and fun programs. She was ready to go!

Somewhere else in Southern Germany

Normally, Kristoff would not travel inland by plane. But the ticket was paid by the shipping company, and he was kind of short on time. So, he would accept the offer and was on his way to Munich airport. He had mastered his finals and until starting his new job, he could just as well earn some money with this summer occupation. It might be a good start off into his career. Still, being surrounded by numerous people all day long, that was not his vision of a quiet and peaceful summer. With a sigh, he stuffed the ticket in his travel bag.

His suitcase was packed, and all his literature supply sorted neatly within his luggage. Kristoff was ready to risk the wave of vacation feeling washing over him.

***

The flight from Munich to Hamburg would take approx. 1 hour. Already they were delayed due to rain and maintenances still going on. Kristoff tried to relax in his seat, but then this size of airplane was not built for big guys like him. He tried to stretch and stretch his legs into the aisle without hindering the still boarding passengers. He desperately hoped they would take off soon, so he could leave this cocoon like cage after their landing. So, he flicked through the plane magazine to distract himself, when he noticed a person stopping just by his side. The woman was about to store her bag just atop of his head. She was small, tiptoed to the upmost maximum and stretched to the extent that Kristoff thought she was about to do pull-ups while dangling at the storage box. Some sort of moaning and sighing noises came to his ears, but nobody seemed obliged to help the tiny lady.

“You need help up there?” he asked, peering up from his seat.

“Huh?” the young woman glanced down between her arms and smiled at him. “That´s very kind of you, thanks, but I manage.” She then somehow shrank back to her normal size and stood there, with a shy grin and pulled up shoulders.

“I´m sorry, but may I…?” She pointed to the window seat.

“Oh, yes, sorry.” Kristoff made some efforts to peel himself out of his seat. For some reason, he seemed stuck. This was ridiculous and he swore under his breath, in his mind strangling the architect of this seating construction.

“Oh, you know what? Don´t bother yourself. Just hang on.” And with that, before Kristoff realised what was happening, the young lady started to climb over his legs, holding on with one hand to the backrest of his seat and with the other to the seat in front of them. Within a jiffy she´d swung herself with ease into the seat next to him and wriggled herself into a cosy position. Of course, she was small and delicate of figure. She could move in here like a little fish in the water. For a short moment, Kristoff envied the small person next to him. But then, excuse me, how rude was her behaviour. He couldn´t help to clear his throat and then stare back at his magazine. What else was there to do?

“Oh no!” The girl exclaimed.

“You´re alright?” Kristoff asked vaguely, glancing over briefly.

“I left my mobile up in my bag, and I thought of listening to some music.” She gnawed on her lips and was about to get up.

“Would you mind? I´m so sorry. But you don´t need to bother yourself again. I can just as well…”

“No. No. That´s totally fine, really!” Kristoff pushed himself out of his seat as fast as he could before someone could climb over him again for the second time within two minutes…

“Oh thanks! That´s so kind!”

After the energetic neighbour had plumped herself back into her window seat, Kristoff turned his attention to his book that he had fished out of his bag before sitting back again.

After the plane had taken off, the flight continued in a peaceful manner, for the girl had plugged her earpads and was listening to music all the time. Only the snack break would stop her from napping with little snores or then happily humming along to the songs. According to the tunes that emerged from her lips, she had to be listening to ABBA.

It was hard concentrating that way, but after a while Kristoff got used to it and for some reason the humming didn´t bother him as much anymore.

And when the plane finally landed, he was off as fast as possible to escape that tiny place and the crowd of people that were all around him.

***

Anna stood at the docks in awe. She had never been on a ship like this one or seen anything like it from close up. Excitement filled her and the thought of being part of this adventure for the next two weeks. The change of tapestry would do her good, she was sure. Since that dreadful time of new year, Anna hadn´t been able to go anywhere or participate in any activity really. The shock of catching Hans, cheating on her in such a horrifying way, had kept her ensnared for weeks. Her family hadn´t been of much help. Of course, they´d been helpless as well. In their ways, leaving her alone, for a good reason, Anna understood them. Finally, she had found relief and regained her composure by repeatedly talking to her aunt Gerda, who had shown her so much appreciative value and heart-care!

“Hi there. Are you alright?”

The friendly voice next to her interrupted her thoughts. Anna turned to face a lovely woman with big almond shaped eyes and ebony skin. Her hair was an impressive bunch of black, neatly combed into a braid that fell all down over her chest.

“Oh, hi. I´m sorry. I´ve never been on a ship like this and had to take a long look first.”

“Yes. It´s quite impressive, isn´t it. By the way, I´m Honeymaren.”

“Oh, I´m Anna. Nice to meet you. Are you going to work here, too?”

“Yes, I´m the 1st hostess and here to help if you have any questions. So, what are you going to do aboard?”

“Me? Oh, I´m here as a fitness instructress.”

“Ah. That is fantastic. Welcome aboard Arendelle lights! Come on, I will show you around and sign you in, alright?”

Anna was so grateful to have met Honeymaren. First, she seemed so kind and then, Anna would have a safe contact in case of an emergency on her behalf. She was about to get a bit nervous, though. If only she would not mess this up and make a fairly good job here!

Her cabin was alongside the other staff lodges, and she loved it. It was cosy, furnished and the bullseye-window was so cute!

The passengers would check in only the next morning, and for tonight there would be some sort of welcome party for all the ship-staff. Anna was looking forward to this event immensely. She desperately hoped to find some nice people to hang out with for the next two weeks and not being left on her own.

***

“Good evening, Dr. Bjorgman. Welcome aboard Arendelle lights. I hope you´re satisfied with your cabin and all?”

“Yes. Thank you. All fine.”

“That´s great. Have you met the captain yet?”

“Yes, I have. Thank you.”

“Wonderful. Well anyway. Enjoy your stay aboard and if you need anything or have any requests, don´t hesitate to contact me. Alright?”

“Yes. Thank you. As a matter of fact, that might well be the case since this is my first cruising tour you know.”

“Ah. Don´t worry. You´re not alone there. Our fitness instructress is new to this , too. You two might just as well stick together then?” Honeymaren smiled and winked sheepishly.

Dr. Bjorgman didn´t get it but was wondering how long he was supposed to endure this event, when the hostess put a hand onto his arm and waved with the other.

“Oh. There she is. Just hang on a second, I´ll introduce you. Hey Anna! Over here!”

Kristoff followed Honeymaren´s gestures and spotted an auburn-haired girl, who waved back into their direction excitingly. The humming girl! She hurried towards them, stopping abruptly upon seeing him. Her eyes widened and she pressed her lips together, pulling up her shoulders while stepping up to them.

“Hi there!” Anna lifted a shy hand to greet them both, constantly looking back and forth between Honeymaren and the man standing next to her.

“Hi Anna. May I introduce? This is Dr. Bjorgman. Dr. Bjorgman, this is Anna, our fitness instructress. You two might have business to talk?” With that, Honeymaren left them to themselves, she was needed somewhere else.

Silence.

“So, I hear this is your first cruising trip, too?” Kristoff asked awkwardly. Meeting the sportive lady again had not been on his mind to be honest.

“Yes, indeed. Goodness… Had I known.” Anna put a hand to her chest and shook her head, obviously embarrassed. “Seriously, I´m so sorry for bothering you on that flight and isn´t it funny, we sat right next to each other? But I was so nervous getting here. I mean excitingly nervous, not nervously nervous, you know?”

Her expression seemed truly apologetical, but friendly and enthusiastic.

No. He would know nothing about the feeling of being excitingly nervous.

“Yeah, sure. Don´t worry.”

They were standing, looking at the people mingling and grabbing drinks from the bar.

“Would you know what we are supposed to do now?” Anna asked uncertainly, gnawing on her lips.

She was nervous after all.He could tell.

“Frankly, I don´t know. For my part, I don´t like such functions. But I guess it´s part of the job.”

“Oh. I love meeting people. I´m just kind of unsure where to start.”

Why not getting her over to that bunch of people and then take a leave?

“We could grab a drink at the bar and join the party?” offered Kristoff with a sigh. Anna nodded feverishly and smiled at him, grateful for his suggestion.

So, when they got to the bar, the barkeeper greeted them with a friendly nod, offering them a “welcome drink”.

“Hellloooo!” A cheering voice sang into their ears from behind and Kristoff and Anna turned to look at a rather little fellow with light hair and big eyes. He grinned broadly and shook their hands enthusiastically.

“Hi! I´m Olaf and I love meeting you all!”

“Oh. How nice! And what are you doing here?” Anna beamed upon meeting someone so refreshing.

Olaf´s face lit up even more at Anna´s remark and he explained, “I´m responsible for the evening entertainment. And youare…?”

“Oh. I´m Anna. I´m the fitness instructress.”

“Aha. That´s lovely. And who is that funny looking grumpy head?” Olaf leaned towards Anna, conspiringly glancing in Kristoff´s direction.

“Oh. That´s… Dr. Bjorgman.” Anna shrugged, unsure of how to address the medical crew member respectfully. But Olaf wasn´t satisfied.

“Gosh, no. That´s too complicated. We are family here!” He waved a hand demandingly at Kristoff. The latter sensed his chances, repressed an amused chuckle, but smirked at the little one.

“It´s Kristoff.”

With that, he waved his goodbyes, wished them a nice evening, and left.

Maybe this wouldn´t be so bad after all. So far, they all seemed to be a friendly bunch of guys. And Anna was safely left in good hands with this Olaf.

This way, Kristoff felt less guilty… If you like to read on... find the complete fic on AO3

#Frozine #frozine volume 5 summer lovin #kristanna #fanfic #modern AU setting #summer jobs #Anna #Kristoff

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collecting-stories · 3 years

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Peace - pt. 04 - Rafe Cameron

Summary: The moments leading up to your wedding to Rafe.

A/N: I’m so sad to see this series end honestly, I’ve so loved writing this version of Rafe. Could probably write him like this forever😂 (I should note that I truly hate the Reagan’s but I do admire the love they had for each other and that’s why I reference them.)

One Thing Right Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

△ ▽ △ ▽

Rafe’s first apartment in Boston was a little generic. It was sleek though, modern, like someone had plucked it right out of a magazine and stuck it, piece for piece, into his living space. And it stayed that way for almost three years and then you left your coat hanging in the hall closet. It was banana yellow and looked like it belonged in a Paddington Bear book. But it was just one jacket and when he closed the closet door no one could tell the difference.

But then a toothbrush popped up, green against his color coordinated grays. A pair of sneakers you wore to the gym sat in his bedroom, a pastel rainbow of colors highlighting the white of everything else. They were small though, little minute changes that he could hide away until slowly, maybe without him even realizing it, you were all over the apartment. A dog bed for Fivel, throw blankets that you somehow smuggled into his place and never took home, by New Years his apartment looked more lived in than it had in three years prior.

It wasn’t just your things that made their way into Rafe’s apartment though. It was you. Somewhere between a one-night stand in college, a first date, and your second New Years eve together, you had made room for yourself in Rafe’s life. The somewhat generic party boy that had coasted through every other aspect of his life, relationships included, was suddenly thinking more than a week in advance.

He was thinking about houses, about where you could live together. A place that was yours and his, that was a space you both chose, you both decorated, you both lived in together. He thought about actual schedules, yours and his, but he thought far in advance to. What it would be like to come home from work at night and spend time with you. Watching dumb TV shows and eating take out and trying to cook and buying groceries together. It was all on his mind, all the time.

He’d taken up showing you houses now, brownstones in Beacon Hill that had enough bedrooms for kids, “I liked the one with the garden.” You said, passing Rafe his phone back.

That was new, at least in the last year that you were together. Topper had been the first one to say something about it when he’d been up to visit for Rafe’s 27th birthday. Sitting there on the couch watching the game, talking about what bars they were going to hit up.

“I can check...” Rafe patted his pocket for his phone, “babe, do you have my phone?”

“Oh yeah, sorry. Mine died and I plugged it in the bathroom.” You had walked into the room like it was nothing and handed over Rafe’s phone and Topper just sat there in mild shock. There hadn’t been a time in their friendship that Topper could pinpoint Rafe ever letting anyone use his phone. Just looking at the lock screen ran the risk of incrimination.

“He lets you use his phone?”

“As long as I don’t look at the messages his other girlfriends send him.” You joked, your sentence dissolving into laughter when Rafe tripped you and pulled you down into his lap.

“I don’t want to sound like a broken record here but...you’re just totally different man.” Topper confessed later once the two of them went out bar hopping. A school day the next morning demanded that you stay in but you waved them off and told them to have fun. Topper had been friends with Rafe since high school and he had seen all the bad sides of him. The excessive drinking, the recreational drug use, “I’ve never even known you to be monogamous.”

Rafe shrugged. It was probably true but there in the bar, where any other time, regardless of a girlfriend, he would’ve been more than happy to get some attention, he was just drinking, texting you sporadically. “I don’t know. I gave her a key to my place over Christmas.” He admitted, “I think I'm losing my mind.”

“That might not be a bad thing.”

“It definitely isn’t.”

Two months later, in March, when Rafe suggested, for the first time, that you should live together you had assumed he meant in one of your apartments. Yours was smaller than his so you figured it would be ruled out immediately. But you didn’t necessarily love his apartment building and the co-op that owned it could be a little strict for your taste. But Rafe didn’t mention either apartment. Or anything more on the matter until April when he asked what you thought about a brownstone while you were walking Fivel.

“Kind of big for two people and a dog.” You joked, slowing down in front of one of the brownstones in Beacon Hill. They were beautiful, the epitome of Boston life, a dream you’d definitely let yourself have before.

“What if we’re not two people and a dog forever?”

Rafe had a way of asking questions that sent your head spinning with all the giddy hope and optimism you thought you’d packed away when you decided that traditional life and milestones weren’t for you. When you knew for sure that people who got married for 30, 40, 50 years were just flukes, it wasn’t something to aspire to because it was never going to happen to you. The cynicism had been easy for a long time but then, whenever you were with Rafe, you felt like it was melting away.

He told you to look at brownstones, see if there were any for sale that the two of you thought could fit into your life. You looked on the cheaper side of things while Rafe was more realistic about his finances. And yours, you had told him around the same time as Ian’s wedding that your grandparents had set up a substantial trust for you that deposited to your account monthly. Enough that working was just because you wanted to.

It was no surprise that it was Rafe who found a house. A beautiful brownstone right in Beacon Hill with a garden entry, nestled back from the street, between two other homes, the courtyard in the front. It was gutted inside, closer to your proposed budget but it would require enough of an overhaul that you and Rafe would be putting a decent amount into renovations.

“You said you liked the one with the garden.” And somehow it became the second real argument you had. Silly, because you both loved the place. But you seemed willing to resist, to hold out even though he knew you wanted it.

You had sent pictures to your mom, saved images on Pinterest boards of all the house inspiration you could find, had bookmarked different tiles and wallpapers and furniture stores. And yet every time he mentioned it you said you weren’t sure.

“We’re supposed to sign today to buy it.” Rafe complained as you stalled. He was pulling his coat on and his scarf, the temperature drop in Boston was a nightmare, especially for Rafe. He hated the winter, and the fall, and part of the spring.

“I’m just not positive.”

“What’s the matter with it this time?” He asked, a little more than exasperated honestly.

You sighed, sitting down on the bar stool in Rafe’s kitchen. You knew what was the matter, the same thing that was the problem every time that you thought about the brownstone a little too long. “What if something happens?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if something happens between us? What if we start renovating and you hate all the stuff I like or what if we move in and you break up with me-“

“Can I ask why I’m doing all these things?” He asked, walking back over to where you were sitting, turning the seat of your stool so that he could cage you in a little. “What if you hate the stuff I like or you break up with me?”

“That’s ridiculous.” You dismissed.

“Yeah and it’s ridiculous for you to think that stuff about me.” He replied, “look, I get it. I’ve never taken anything seriously before. All the shit my dad says about me is true but this,” He waved his hand between the two of you, “there’s nothing I want more than this. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, “but I want pink cabinets in the kitchen or no deal.”

Rafe smiled, shaking his head before. “Whatever you want.”

“That’s dangerous.” You teased, leaning forward in your chair and tilting your head up a little, silently asking him for a kiss which he happily reciprocated. “I love you, I just freak myself out sometimes.”

The brownstone took six months to finish, six months of meetings with a contractor, six months of walking through half finished abstractions and picking out tile and flooring and cabinets and paint. Six months of talking about color schemes and trying to convince Rafe that the pink velvet sofa was moving into the house.

And somehow, during those six months, it wasn’t Rafe’s modern, spacious, sleek apartment that you co-habituated in but your apartment. Smaller, brighter, more homely. Rafe’s lease ended before yours and he wasn’t sure how you convinced him but he moved out of his apartment, sold furniture he didn’t care about, and moved into yours.

The brownstone wasn’t the only thing that occupied Rafe’s mind during those six months. Between work and renovations Rafe had started spending an unhealthy amount of time looking at rings. There was a significant difference between what he knew you would like (which he had to base solely on what he knew about you because damn it if you never brought up a wedding at all) and what he would’ve liked to give you. He considered asking but he thought that might be in bad taste, who asks someone to help with their own proposal. So he did the next best thing he could think of.

“This is so exciting.” Nina’s high pitched whisper was hardly a whisper at all, far too invested in this ‘no one could see them talking’ conspiracy. She claimed it was for your benefit, to keep the secret a little longer, but Rafe had a better idea that it was just so she could boast about having helped after the fact. “God, this one is beautiful.”

“I thought she’d like it, it’s not very traditional and it’s something she’d feel comfortable wearing at work.” Rafe replied. He decided that was an important criteria. You didn’t wear a lot of jewellery solely because you worried about six year old hands grabbing at it or losing it throughout the day.

“I like it, I think she’d really love it.” Nina replied honestly, “you should just go with your gut, you know what she likes.”

“I just second guess myself.”

“Well don’t, you guys are…it’s nice, to see her with someone that makes her happy. She used to be so stressed all the time with Ian and he was always such a dick to her.” Nina commented. She let Rafe take his laptop back, the two of them sitting at a table in the Starbucks near your apartment.

The ring was modest and, for lack of a better word, delicate. It had been the first one he’d seen that he’d felt confident about and hearing Nina confirm that you would love it reassured that anxious feeling in his gut. He didn’t know how to explain it in a way that made sense, that didn’t sound like some cliché sound bite, but this wasn’t something he ever thought about it. He had friends who thought about stuff like that, who made plans or thought further ahead than a week but he had never been one of them. Topper had been right, this wasn’t him. Or, not the version of him that he had been before.

“You have plans to propose?” Nina asked, sipping her latte and watching Rafe so casually ordering the ring right there in Starbucks like it was a pair of shoes.

“The house is done in two months so, I was thinking about waiting until then.” He shrugged.

“You’re gonna ask her to marry you just, in your house?”

“It’ll be first thing, kinda a ‘here’s our house, marry me’ thing. Why?” He asked. Rafe thought it was a pretty good idea. Take you to the house for one last walk through before you officially moved and ask you to marry right on the rooftop deck that you loved so much.

“Just wondered,” Nina replied. “You were so worried about the ring, I expected you to be more unsure about everything.”

“I knew the brownstone was the spot when we toured it with the realtor.” He replied, matter of fact. “Obviously don’t say anything.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Rafe could’ve asked you about a ring, a wedding, future kids, and you probably still wouldn’t have put two and two together. It wasn’t that you didn’t think about those things because you did. It was like flipping on a TV that was only playing a series of ex machina broadcasts. Even if you weren’t thinking about it immediately it crept in. When Anya had told you about her honeymoon you immediately wondered what your own might be like, if it would ever happen. When a new class of kids started and a name stuck out to you as one you liked you’d start to wonder about your own future children.

You thought about the future to an overwhelming degree and you always had. But you didn’t think that Rafe did. Or, more accurately, you didn’t want to think about whether or not he did. What if dating was enough? What if the brownstone was enough? Your mom always spooked you with the same advice, “never move in with a guy before you’re engaged or you’ll never get married”.

You only broached the subject once, laying on the couch after a day of parent-teacher conferences and watching the Bachelorette because it was ridiculous and you needed ridiculous television.

“You could audition for this show.” You called as Rafe came out of the bedroom, changed out of his work clothes (slacks, button downs, you were truly blessed to see both sides of his wardrobe as often as you did).

“For…” he looked at the screen as he pulled his Duke University shirt over his head, “for the bachelorette?”

“Yeah, I bet you’d be like, a fan favorite.”

“I don’t know how you watch this, it’s all manufactured.”

“It’s kinda nice though, I mean they all get right to the point.” You replied.

“Saying ‘I wanna marry that person’ before they even know each other is dumb. Very rarely does that happen in real life.” Rafe said, walking into the kitchen.

“Will you make me popcorn? Also, it’s not dumb…you’ve never met someone and been like ‘that’s the one’ right off the bat?” You called.

Rafe grabbed the popcorn out of the cabinet, Fivel appearing at his feet at the sound of rattling. “Did you feed Five?” He asked, already opening the fridge to grab his food.

“Only dry food before I walked him.” You called back, “you didn’t answer my question.”

“Your question is a trap.” He replied.

You sat up, leaning over the back of the couch so that you could see him in the kitchen. “It is not!”

Rafe only hummed, ignoring you as you flopped back onto the couch to watch Chris Harrison announce that the guys were flying to Ireland for the next leg of the competition. Rafe looked back over at the TV before putting your popcorn in the microwave. Fivel ate and then headed into the living room, jumping up on the wing chair that you always kept a heating pad and blankets on. Somewhere in all the domesticity of his life Rafe had stopped thinking so much about the differences. He didn’t dwell too much on the kid he’d been in North Carolina and just let himself enjoy doing absolutely nothing with you on a Tuesday night, watch trash TV and talking about all the stuff you had to do in the upcoming weeks.

He carried the bowl of popcorn into the living room with a beer and a diet coke, depositing everything on the coffee table. He turned the heating pad on for Fivel before sitting on the other end of the couch from you, your socked feet tucking under his thigh. “College,” Rafe said, glancing over at you.

“What?” You sat up a little bit, moving away from him only to move closer.

“When I saw you in the stairwell at Duke. I was pretty sure.” He replied. Pretty sure was an understatement. If there was one thing that Rafe was positive about it was that he had known then and there, as you stood on the other side of the door in the cold, or maybe before that even, when you first walked into his line of view, that you were it. He would’ve chased that feeling forever if he’d never gotten a second chance at it.

“I was so nervous that night...I thought like worse case, you were gonna try to take advantage of me,” you pointed out.

“There goes my credibility.”

“Well, in hindsight, we did sleep together. But you’re just…I don’t know. Especially in college. I don’t think I’ve ever met a person in my entire life who so embodies the phrase ‘I get what I want’ but you certainly did then.” You replied. He still did now but you didn’t want to give him too much of an ego boost.

“I’d say I can’t argue but you never did call me back.”

“Yeah well you’ve got me now.” You teased.

Rafe had told Nina he had it all figured out. In two months he would propose to you, in the house you bought together, and it would be romantic and thoughtful and planned. And all of it went out the window for a Tuesday night in a cramped apartment watching the Bachelorette and eating popcorn.

“Marry me.”

“What?” You looked away from the group date that was dissolving into chaos on the screen. You had to shift back a little to look at him because when you’d moved you’d leaned your whole body against his.

“Marry me.” He repeated, that same confidence that had been seeped in every word that he spoke when he flirted with you in college was there now, as if he was just so incredibly sure of himself. “I was gonna wait another two months to ask but I’d rather not.”

“Okay, yea, yes.” You nodded. You felt like a whirlwind was going in your mind, all the things you wanted to happen, the things you pretended not to think about, that you spent far too much time on, came rushing forward as you kissed him, unconcerned with the TV or anything other than your boyfriend in that moment.

Rafe kissed you back, pulling you over his lap, hands on your hips. He was all for a quiet Tuesday but he certainly wouldn’t complain about having this instead. “Bedroom?”

“Yes sir.” You replied, arms wrapped around his shoulders and smiling against his mouth. Your grip tightened when Rafe stood suddenly, your legs locking around his waist as he carried you into the bedroom.

You had teased him the first time you toured your future home that he would have to buy a really good couch for the living room so he wouldn’t have to carry you up a flight of stairs. He’d only replied that he would have to put an elevator in.

“You didn’t ask about a ring,” Rafe pointed out, laying in bed with you, hand holding yours over his chest.

“What do you mean?”

“People usually propose with a ring.”

“Oh,” you scrunched your nose up and pressed your forehead against his shoulder, you hadn’t even thought about a ring. Anything that wasn’t solely Rafe had gone out of your head without much effort, your sole focus on him and the fact that he’d asked you to marry him. There was nothing else you could even imagine thinking of in that moment. “I totally forgot.”

“I was going to propose at the house, when we moved in,” he commented, tightening his grip around your waist as if he could pull you any closer.

“That would’ve been really nice.”

“I know.” He had it all planned perfectly, “so I won’t have a ring for another month or so.”

“You shouldn’t have mentioned it then! I might not’ve even realized it.” You teased.

“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t have.” Rafe replied, “you probably would’ve forgotten we were engaged. I could’ve re-proposed.”

“You should’ve, you could’ve made it more romantic.”

“What can I say,” he shrugged, “I’m impatient.”

“That’s okay,” you reasoned because honestly it was fine. This was good enough, “you just couldn’t resist me.”

“Yeah that’s what it was.”

“Hey!” You laughed, untangling yourself to sit up in bed, “hey, did you have a speech and everything? Was it gonna be like, really sappy?”

“I did have a speech, yes.” Rafe replied. “It was pretty good too.” And it should’ve been, he had drafts saved on his phone of different possible speeches he could’ve given you.

“Are you gonna not read it to me now?”

“It’s on my phone.”

“Easy fix.” Before he could grab you, you had gotten off the bed, running out to the living room. You made it to the other side of the door before you ducked back in, grabbing Rafe’s shirt off the ground. “Mrs. Murphy is home.”

“Flash her, she’d love it.” Rafe joked, laughing when you threw up the middle finger at him as you left the room.

Your window ‘neighbor’ was a retired older lady who liked to sit in her living room and pretend to watch TV. In actuality she had angled her TV just so that she would be able to watch all the windows on the building beside hers, your building, and she’d caught you in some fairly compromising positions since you had started dating Rafe. She was happy to peep and you were pretty sure Rafe purposely walked around the living room naked or next to naked just to give her a show but you most definitely were not.

“Is it in your notes?” You asked, coming back into the room with Rafe’s phone in your hands, swiping through apps.

“I’ll get it, give me my phone.” He offered, holding his hand out.

“I wanna read it.”

“I’ll read it to you.” Rafe replied.

“Fine.” You climbed up on the bed, hand pressed against the arched ceiling above your head to keep your balance, Rafe’s shirt riding up. When you got close enough he wrapped a hand around the back of your thigh, pulling and causing you to fall into his lap, knees on either side of him. “I was this close to kneeing you,” you said, holding your thumb and forefinger almost together as indication.

“But you didn’t.” Rafe took the phone from you, searching his notes to find the speech he’d drafted.

Though you were sure Mrs. Murphy was sad to see you go you were practically bouncing at the prospect of the new house. A house. The word felt so foreign. And maybe because you’d packed up all those silly childhood dreams ages ago when you decided that you would never be the type of person to meet someone that felt so wholly part of you. Nina got the childhood sweetheart life you’d wanted for so long and when you finally cancelled those plans and put your focus on a life that revolved around you and Fivel things like houses felt silly.

But there it was, something you’d only ever walked passed before. Three stories of space, four bedrooms, an office space, a kitchen that looked fit for the pages of a magazine. Rafe was sorting through books to put on the shelves in the living room space, and you were tackling the kitchen while Fivel napped on the back patio space.

“We should have an engagement party here.” You called over the music you had turned on. “Honestly we could have the whole wedding here.”

“I think we might need a little bit more space for a wedding.” Rafe replied, leaving the books in boxes momentarily to find you in the kitchen. You were on the floor, unpacking the pots and pans and loading them into the lower cabinets.

“I saw this post that this woman and her partner had a small wedding and did a lot of diy stuff and then saved all their money for the honeymoon.” You replied. “If we time it right we could honeymoon in the summer.”

“That’s fine with me.” Rafe shrugged, “you’ll be planning by yourself though, I’m going to Beijing in May, for the-“

“For that whatever thing your boss is having you do.” You cut him off, leaning back against his legs, “Lucky you. And don’t think for a second that I won’t harass you every day with emails and texts and facetime asking about what venue should we rent, where should we get pictures, what should we eat.”

“Can’t wait,” Rafe laughed, “we’ll figure something out. Though I do like this small wedding you're talking about.”

“That’s cause you hate everyone.” You replied.

Rafe was a party person in the sense that he liked showing off and parties gave him the opportunity but he was not fond of too many people. Polite, friendly even, sure, but he wasn’t rushing to plan too many outings that didn’t immediately benefit him in some way. The only close friends he had were from childhood.

“Fine then, we’ll have a big wedding.” He shrugged, stepping away from you and causing you to grab the floor before you fell on your back.

“No,” you groaned, “I don’t like people either.”

“I’ll only be gone a month; we’ll figure out the wedding details and all that shit.”

“All that shit.” You repeated, getting up off the ground and walking over to him.

“What?” He asked, skeptical as you smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his waist and tilting your head back slightly to get him to kiss you.

“We’re living together.”

“We have been living together.” He pointed out, just barely kissing you, nose brushing yours.

“Yeah, but this is our house.”

The wedding was small, exactly the way you both wanted. Rafe’s sisters were there by Ward and Rose stayed in North Carolina. Your family came and a few friends, you skipped inviting anyone from work aside from Anya, who came alone. The small church in was in Western Massachusetts, in your hometown, decorated with wild flowers and greens.

“Topper,” you whispered, waving your soon-to-be husband’s best friend, and best man, over to where you were, peeking out of the pastor’s office. You were almost completely ready, all you needed was your veil and you’d be ready to walk down the aisle. Rafe was already in the chapel, talking with your family as they waited for the pression to start.

“Hey,” Topper came over, giving you a quick hug. He’d arrived yesterday and you hadn’t gotten the chance to seen him because you were staying at your sister’s. You had made Rafe swear that the two of you were going to spend your pre-wedding night separate. “Cold feet? Want me to stall so you can make a getaway?” He teased.

“No.” You laughed, “will you get Rafe for me though?”

“Yeah.” He squeezed you in a hug one more time, kissing your forehead before pulling away, “you look beautiful by the way.”

“Thank you.”

Topper disappeared back into the chapel, walking up the aisle to where Rafe was, whispering in his best friend’s ear that you wanted him. Rafe glanced down the aisle, as if he could see you through the doors. He clapped Topper on the shoulder and headed down the aisle into the vestibule where the pastor’s office was. A few stragglers were chatting as he passed them, coming to the door and knocking.

You opened the door enough that he could just see you, your robe obscuring the dress you were wearing. “Hi.”

“Hey, you trying to cancel the wedding on me?” He teased.

“No, god, don’t listen to Topper.” You laughed, “I just wanted to see you. I missed you.”

“I saw you yesterday.”

“Rafe!” You pouted, glaring at him.

He placed his hand on the back of your neck, leaning in to kiss you, “hey, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I’ll see you soon.” Rafe promised, kissing you one last time before letting go, heading back into the chapel.

Everything felt like a blur that fast forwarded to the vows, standing there at the top of the church, pastor in front of you and crowd of family and friends sitting, watching, as Rafe read off the index cards he’d written his vows on. He’d obsessed over them, from the moment you said yes until now, he’d gone over them and over them and back over them. What if he said the wrong thing, what if he sounded stupid or insincere? But you were looking at him like he’d hung the stars, like no one had ever looked at him before.

He took a deep breath before beginning, “one time at your parents' house you tried to tell me about something Nancy Reagan said to her husband and I know I cut you off then but when we went home afterward, I read up on the President and his wife and I don’t know exactly what you intended to say but in a letter to Nancy, Reagan said ‘I more than love you, I’m not whole without you. You are life itself to me. When you are gone I’m waiting for you to return so I can start living again.’ When I saw you across the street, waiting outside the restaurant on our first date that was it for me. I knew in the stairwell of Duke that you were it and when you messaged me the first time after that I knew I was never letting this go…”

You listened to his vows, blinking furiously as you tried not to cry. It was a useless attempt, by the second sentence you could feel the tears, probably soaking through makeup that you’d have to redo before pictures.

“You never told me you read that,” you laughed, trying your best not to cry, “damn it.”

Rafe smiled, that same smugness he always had when he did something he knew you would undeniably love. You pressed the folded piece of paper to your chest, taking a breath before steadily unfolding it and looking down at your handwriting scrawled in successive paragraphs, all collections of feelings.

“Okay,” you breathed, looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to stop crying and then down again at the papers...

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife @freckled-and-daydreaming @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @aoba-josigh @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @heavenlymama @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar @lemur46 @under-a-canyon-moon @calums-betch @dpaccione @bbeauttyybbx @teenwolfobx @iccyyyybitch @popcrone818

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rudysrings · 4 years

Text

Twin Pogues of the OBX - 6

A/N: Shortest part yet, but I promise more is coming tomorrow and I just couldn’t bring myself to figure out a good stopping place other than here :)

Warnings: underage drinking, cursing...I think that’s it for this one?

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

The next morning, you guys took out the HMS Pogue, before realizing the only way you could figure out the location of the wreck and with it, the gold, was to get access to the internet and plug in the coordinates.

Of course, with the power out on the Cut, there was no way you could get online from home. JJ worked as a busboy at one of the fancy hotels on the kook side, and offered to let you guys in.

As always, the familiar warmth of the sun felt nice on your skin. Somehow, after the events of yesterday, it felt like forever since you guys had just hung out on the boat—tanning, swimming, drinking.

You felt uncomfortable today, uninterested in your usual bikinis and shorts. Instead, you borrowed one of your brother’s long-sleeved shirts, usually saved for the winter, and pulled on some faded, worn skinny jeans over your bikini bottoms.

Of course, Kiara noticed, giving your ass a friendly slap as she asked, “What’s with the fit today?”

You threw an arm over her shoulder, hers circling your waist as you walked towards the van. “I just wasn’t feelin’ it today.”

“You’re gonna get real hot, real fast. It’s breaking 100 today.”

“I’ve got my suit under. If worse comes to worse, I’ll just strip down to that.”

“Suit yourself.”

It was rare that you felt insecure. You weren’t ashamed of your physical appearance, no. It might’ve been the realization that your dad had intentionally abandoned you that had shaken you so much. You were feeling vulnerable already and being exposed all day would be a physical manifestation of your fear.

You were quieter than normal, but the pogues didn’t question it, noticing the opposite in John B. It was as if last night had given your brother purpose, something concrete he could actually put his mind to, rather than wonder for days on end.

Once inside, you guys had found out it was about 900ft down, almost off the deep end, but reachable. Though not totally legal, the pogues hatched a plan to ‘borrow’ the drone from the salvage yard that JJ’s dad used to work for.

You asked if you could sit this one out, and, taking one look at your defeated figure, no one disagreed. “I’m going to go and try and write for a bit today, alright?”

You had been a part of a band with a few kids from school, scoring gigs here and there to scrape in whatever money you could. It allowed you a living while doing something you loved at the same time. You were thankful for it, and for Kiara’s dad, who made sure you knew that the band was always welcome to play at the Wreck and earn something for the time they performed. Part of it had to do with the fact that the band always improved business, people staying longer for dessert just to hear you play one more set, but part of it was that he just liked you. Though you were just as crazy, if not crazier than the other pogues, it was easy to see that you had an idea for your future and that’s all that Mr. Carrera ever wanted for his daughter. Though the band had broken up before the summer, with both the drummer and the lead guitarist having graduated high school and moved out of the outer banks for college, you still wrote from time to time. It was your own sort of therapy, the cathartic ritual of trying to reach somewhere within your mind to actually create something.

Kiara grinned. “Yeah! You should definitely come down to the wreck later tonight; it’s karaoke night!”

You assured her you wouldn’t miss it for the world.

John B gave you a pat on the back as you exited the van. They dropped you off at the Chateau and drove off, JJ shooting finger guns at you and making you smile.

You spent the day at the Chateau, working through your songs and nursing a rare bottle of old wine you had managed to hide from the others underneath your bathroom cabinet.

You contemplated the last few days, not just about how unloved you felt by your parents, but also the growing thing between you and a certain blonde haired boy.

You smiled as you strummed the guitar that your brother had given you for your thirteenth birthday as you remembered when you and JJ had first met.

The third grade was hard enough without a twin brother that radiated energy, leaving you looking like the evil twin who lived in the shadows and collected the limbs of barbies in different containers. Which you did, but you didn’t expect to be so ostracized for it.

You were alone that day at recess, walking across the black top with your arms hugging yourself. Your dad had done a poor job of helping you with your hair, leaving it a stringy mess across your back.

Suddenly, your face met the ground and you groaned, turning your head to see a halo of gold behind you. You blinked quickly, pushing yourself up to see a blonde boy with crooked teeth apologizing profusely.

“Dude! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, this guy—”

You noticed something in his hand. A Gameboy?

Behind him, a pudgy boy with a sweater vest and khaki shorts was quickly approaching and you soon understood what was going on. So this blonde little boy was a thief?

On instinct, you grabbed the gameboy from the blonde boy and shoved it in your backpack as his attacker came running up.

He shoved the blonde boy to the ground and shouted. “Where is it? You took it, you thief!”

Furious at the violent treatment of the blonde, even though he had stolen, you threw yourself at the bully, your nails scratching him.

In the end, all of you got in trouble, but when you walked to the bus that day, you gave the blonde boy the game boy and invited him to your place, where you had your own. He gave you a wicked smile, before giving you a big hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, pretty. I’m JJ.”

You didn’t know why, but you had always been protective of the boy, without a single good reason. He had always hidden his best qualities, but maybe some part of you recognized a part of yourself in him instantly. A kindred spirit of sorts. A hotheaded mess that was awful at suppressing his emotions but didn’t know how to deal with them any other way. A boy that would do anything for his friends. You didn’t know it at the time, but you found a mirrored version of yourself in that nine year old boy, and you brought him home with you.

At sunset, you gave up on your songwriting. You had made little progress anyways, instead heading to the Wreck as you promised Kiara.

When you walked in, the pogues were already shoving their faces happily after a long day. Kiara gave you a huge smile and beckoned you in to hear what had gone down.

You gave JJ a kiss on the cheek for no reason at all, and he blushed, quipping, “Hey, wifey!”

You pulled your brother and Pope in for a big hug, feeling nostalgic after your lingering thoughts of childhood memories today.

Before the pogues could comment on your drastically improved mood and sudden need for affection, you suggested that you all get started on karaoke before downing a beer, getting all of them excited.

You danced with Pope John B’s awful, fast-paced rapping of fifty-cent, but that was the point of karaoke, you guessed.

Pope twirled you, before grabbing your hands and pulling you towards him, shaking his head in a silly fashion. You threw your head back and laughed, catching JJ smiling at the sight from his seat.

You continued dancing with Pope as Kiara kept vibing on her own a few feet away. She finally had enough of John B’s voice and stole the microphone from him, replacing his screeching with her gorgeous velvet tones as she began singing her go to — Come and Get Your Love. You watched as JJ finally stood up, striding over shyly, with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, raising his eyebrows at you in question. You let John B whisk Pope away as you pulled JJ to you by his forearms.

You turned around, letting him cage you from behind as you swayed within the comfort of his arms. John B and Pope were waltzing beside you, making you chuckle.

JJ sang softly to some of the lyrics, so low that you barely heard, only catching some when he bent close to your ears. “What’s the matter with your mind...And you’re mine, and you look so divine...If you want some, take some.” You tried to keep down the goosebumps, but of course, you failed, the fluttering of emotions you always tried to bury making its way up your throat. Or was that the alcohol?

He dropped his head to your shoulder, smiling as his hair brushed your collarbone. “You smell nice.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and turned in his arms. “I haven’t even showered today!”

JJ shrugged. “You always smell nice.”

The beer made you giggle, “Do I? Are you getting soft on me, Maybank? You dance and sniff girls’ hair now?”

JJ scoffed, before saying. “Soft? Me? Get outta here, Trouble.” He added smoothly, “And it’s only your hair I sniff.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That’s a little stalkerish, don’t you think? Should I be concerned? C’mon Bear, you’ve gotta live up to your rep.”

JJ shook his head, pulling you back towards him so that you were chest to chest, forced to wrap your arms around him to keep your balance. “Fuck that, just dance with me for fuck’s sake.”

You felt Kiara’s eyes on you, smiling as she moved on to another song.

Eventually, you got tired and let Kiara pull you away from the guys for a breath of fresh air.

You walked across the beach, arms crossed over your abdomen. Kiara kept looking at you with that teasing smile and you finally had enough. “What?”

Kiara shook her head. “Nothing, just, you know it’s kind of obvious? You’re so thick headed sometimes, but you clearly –”

“Have feelings for JJ?” You finished for her. She looked at you in surprise as you turned back to the waves. “I’m not so thick-headed. I know what I feel. I’m not stupid.”

She nudged your side, giggling. “Well, he’s really feeling you, too. Like all the butterflies and shit, I swear.” Kiara gave you jazz hands, emphasizing the jittery feeling of a crush.

You smiled. “Yeah, I know.” You knew JJ liked you. You knew it in the way he was always looking out for you, no matter what was going on or what he was doing, his focus was involuntarily always on you. Even your own twin brother didn’t pay that much attention to you. There had always been a tension in the air between you two, a sort of understanding of mutual attraction. It weighed heavy, not just in the air, but on your shoulders, on your heart. Because you knew that you couldn’t let anything come of it.

Kiara stopped, holding your elbow to keep you from walking any further. She looked confused. “Then why don’t you do anything about it? The rule’s bullshit, anyways.”

You took a deep breath, looking at your friend with heavy guilt as you tried to put into words why you knew that it was a bad idea. “Because we’re so similar. Neither of us have our heads screwed on right. We’d eventually destroy each other. And the worst part is...After the chaos, I wouldn’t have my best friend to help me pick up the pieces.” You shrugged. “I figure if there’s one time in my life I’m going to think before I act, it’s with this. Because this is one of the most important things in my life and I know there wouldn’t be any coming back from that.”

Kiara opened and closed her mouth multiple times, before finally asking, “But what if it works out? What if you create something beautiful?”

You laughed in denial, your throat tight. “It wouldn’t, Kie. It kills me to say it, but I know myself. I can’t be what he needs. I can’t bank on what ifs, anyways.”

Kiara pulled you towards her, wrapping you in a warm embrace. She looked behind you at the guys, who, from the looks of things, were beginning to get suspicious of you guys.

You and Kiara began walking back. Right before the two of you were within earshot of the rest of the pogues, Kiara took your hand and said to you, with complete surety, “For the record, Y/N, I think you guys are being idiots. You were lucky enough to find something real and you’re throwing it away. Because what? Because you’re scared? I just—I just don’t get it.” She scoffed, shaking her head as walking back inside, leaving you back at square one, wondering if you were being foolish and cowardly.

Masterlist

Tag List (If there is a strike through your user it’s bc I couldn’t tag you bc tumblr is wack sometimes...)

@hurricane-abigail @omigodyall @timotaychalabae @kaelyn-lobrutto24@caswinchester2000 @meghanisdeadinside @harrysbbby @official-maddibrown @xdelicates@maybebanks@yourwonderbelle @treestarrrrrrrr @loco-latte@sspidermanss@theradvibes @eviction-notice-no666@screamingnewsies @the-fandom-life-forever @dolanfivsosxox@vibin-n-thrivin @em-aesthe @the-real-jort @riverdaleserpent04@free-pool-trash @mileven-reddie @drewswannabegirl@queen1054 @eternalharry@alwayshopelesss @superqalifragilistik@smileyxdolans@fangirling-all-day @dianaillusion@catonthesideoftheroad @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise @thelovelydreamer17 @http-cherries @pit-zuh @kisssmefree @starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies @outerbankstings @oliviadrake1

I’m also kind of new to tagging and rlly bad at it so if something is wrong, I’m sorry and pls let me know and I’ll try my best to fix it!

I also lost my updated tag list i’m so dumb so let me know if I told you i would tag you and i didn’t oop

Stay safe and stay healthy!

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

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might i request a continuation of the possesive billy over steve's hole fic? maybe steve gets horny and plays with himself. billy finds out and punishes him. fucks him deep and doesnt let him cum, then locks in a chastity plug and slips the key onto his necklace chain.

Part 1

god bless steve’s butthole.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Steve startled, pulling his fingers out of himself.

Billy was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, arms crossed over his chest.

“Um, I was horny.”

Billy shook his head at Steve.

“That’s not yours to play with.” Steve squirmed, sheepish.

“I’m sorry.” His eyes were wide as Billy pulled off his belt.

“Gonna have to remind you who this hole belongs to.” He pulled off his clothes, leaving a trail from the bedroom door to Steve.

He crawled on top of him, fit himself between Steve’s legs.

He pushed his cock right in, figured Steve had prepped himself enough.

Steve moaned softly as Billy began pounding him.

“Feels good, Bill.”

“Don’t care.” Steve melted as Billy grunted in his ear.

“Sorry,” Steve whined, wrapping his arms around Billy’s shoulders.

He started bucking his hips to meet Billy’s thrusts.

His thighs were trembling, meant he was close.

He was right on the edge, his back arching when Billy’s weight disappeared from on top of him, inside of him.

He whined, hips stuttering as his orgasm washed away like the fucking tide.

“Don’t you dare cum.” Billy was glaring at him, made Steve shrink under his gaze. “I’m using your hole for my own pleasure. You don’t get anything out of this.”

He shoved back in.

Steve scrunched his eyes closed, trying to keep himself from cumming as Billy pounded him.

He let Billy blow his load deep inside of him.

His legs were fucking shaking, his cock so hard it hurt.

“Billy, Billy can I cum now?”

Billy fucking laughed in his face.

“I got a better idea.”

He dug through Steve’s drawer of toys, pulling out a shiny sliver plug.

“Bill, no.” Billy licked over his teeth.

“I do what I fucking want with this hole. That’s the deal.”

Steve fucking whimpered as Billy pressed the plug inside of him.

He turned the base a few times, made the plug bloom like a flower inside of Steve, locking him up.

He turned the key, the plug making a little click noise.

“Gotta keep my little hole open and ready for me. Make sure no one else uses it.”

Steve sobbed out, his cock aching, his hole stuffed.

“Keep my cum inside.” Steve was on the verge of tears as Billy stood up, pulling his clothes back on.

Billy slid the key onto the chain of his necklace, clasping it back.

He leaned forward, dressed and ready to go, planting a kiss to the base of the plug nestled inside of Steve.

“Bye, Hole. Be back for you later.” He pointed aggressively at Steve. “You touch yourself, or touch my hole, I’m putting your cock in the cage too.”

Steve nodded vigorously, trying to will away his hard on.

“See you, Baby.” Billy winked at him as he left.

Steve waited until he heard Billy’s car pull away before screaming into his pillow.

#we stan steves hole #lemons #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fic #harrignrove ficlet #harringrove drabble #yikes writes #god bless steves butthole

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skeleton-shindig · 3 years

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Until the Sun

Moth has really inspired me to create a lot of art and this includes writing, which normally isn’t anywhere near my cup of tea. Moth is most certainly an idiot most times but he isn’t exempt from the hardships that most definitely come with being a guardian. So, I wrote something that’s been in my head for a while now. I hope you enjoy! It’s better read with thunderstorm and rain in the background.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gVKEM4K8J8A

This is Moth’s favorite time to be at his hideaway in the EDZ, when the clouds become too heavy to bear their weight and brings with it the symphony of thunder. He lays here now in the makeshift bed he’s crafted from an old frame, tucked inside the space out of reach of the rain, and watches as it pours in sheets at the edge of the broken foundation. Although nature tempts him with it’s soothing lullaby, he does not sleep. Whether by choice, or not, he isn’t sure. The gentle tug of insomnia on his eyelids fits nicely with the desire to enjoy this peace while it lasts. Come morning the world around him could no longer be recognizable, so he memorizes it now in this false silence.

Inhaling the humid air, Moth is drawn to gaze at the sleeping figure of Crow nestled up against his side, having succumbed to the realm of dreams. How he wishes to join him there, to roll over and form a barrier between Crow and the world, but the thought of waking him suffers too much like a sin. Comforted by the deep even breathing beside him, Moth returns his lidded gaze up to the ceiling, interlocked fingers drumming an imaginary beat on his chest, eyes darting immediately to the face like imprint he discovered in the paint chipped concrete not long ago. The rain picks up, harder and harder as it drenches the earth in waves and from it, Moth is lulled to close his eyes - to listen for the impending thunder as lightning blinds the sky.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Thunder rattles the landscape and deafens the unoccupied space, echoing along its vast expanse.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

A whisper.

A mumble? Crow doesn’t often talk in his sleep but it’s enough to convince Moth to abandon his attempt at slumber once more. Yet, checking on the sleeping form dredges up such a rapid flux of panic that Moth can feel his heart sink and catch in his throat all in the same nauseating motion. A face so familiar yet unrecognizable pierces his soul with its glare, a phantom visage shrouded in tainted shadow and the deep hues of anguish and yet Moth can’t bring himself to look away. Although he does not feel the bone rattling chill of stasis on his skin, he cannot move all the the same, frozen helplessly in place as the ghastly yet vague figure of Uldren Sov reaches out for him with a tenderness unbefitting of the past prince. A ghost of a touch upon his cheek causes his vision to blur. It feels like nothing against his skin, but brings searing pain to every nerve beneath it nonetheless. A mouth unmoving whispers his sins like it’s reading straight from the source and Moth can’t decide whether to find solace in the eyes brimming with hatred or the void like hole with skin torn asunder on the man’s forehead - a wound of his own creation. Words unknown to both of them line the edges of Moth’s lips, through it seems not even here he can know the sound of his own voice. His heart screams the sorrow his throat will not let him, though it falls on the deaf ears of nightmares.

The orchestrator of Moth’s petrified state, the visage of Uldren Sov coos a symphony of venom dipped atrocities as he trails ethereal fingers along Moth’s cheekbone, over the sharp curve of his nose and up, between his brows to rest, fingertips to his forehead. Agony blooms in its place and spreads out over his face, piercing beneath the layers of flesh and muscle to cast its roots into his skull. The heat of a 1000 suns crawls its way up Moth’s throat, seemingly plugged there by his heart so firmly lodged in place and Uldren, with emotion bleeding from his eyes, pushes against Moth’s forehead. Where he should meeting resistance, none is to be found. Eager fingers pierce the flesh, digging as if trying to renovate the space in his own image. Digging, so that he may add another link to the chain that binds them.

Moth should scream. IS screaming. . . but finds himself trapped in the type of silence he so greatly despises. The burning in his throat sears like its seeping through the flesh of his neck, pouring out in its refusal to be contained.

Moth bolts upright, eyes snapping open to the familiar darkness, his jaw nearly unhinged as the shattered scream he sings quickly devolves into a gurgle when the taste of iron coats his tongue. Feeling the scorching bile churn in his gut, Moth flings himself fully off the side of the bed, struggling with sluggish limbs to the pull the weight of his body toward the crumpled edge of the building while his legs kick at the cocoon he managed to weave out of the bedsheet. In dire disregard for anything besides expelling the red tinged contents of his stomach over the side of the structure, Moth pays no heed to the crunch underneath his frantic limbs or the blackness incomparable with the night that seeps in at the edges of his vision. His hunched form is wracked with violent shudders that are not born from the cold rain now soaking his head and shoulders. When he collapses back from the barrier of rain, he begins the harsh heave of refilling empty lungs. Only when he goes to wipe his mouth does he notice the scrape of something foreign against his skin and the familiar bone-deep chill that jars his frame.

“Moth?”

Forgetting that he wasn’t alone here, Moth is drawn from one horrid realization to another as he shifts his crumpled position on the floor, turning his wide-eyed gaze along the sea of ice leading up to his bed where it wholly consumes the piece of furniture. The floor, wall, and ceiling that surrounds the bed-frame now glitters with a radiant brilliance as lightning illuminates his transgressions. Despite the previous events, Moth’s mouth has never felt so dry as he stares unseeing a the destruction of his own unconscious making.

“Moth?”

The terror masked as concern draws Moth’s partially unfocused gaze up, and the sight that greets him nearly has him doubling back to the crumbling concrete edge. Standing so flush against the furthest wall that he could almost be mistaken as a part of it stands Crow, disheveled with wide shock filled eyes and his legs partially frozen to the floor. it takes Moth’s mind far too long to catch up with what he’s seeing and when it finally registers, his heart shatters in his chest - and he finds himself jealous of it, wishing that he too could crumble into a thousand useless pieces and melt between the floorboards. Moth wants so badly to go to Crow - to be the barrier for him against the world, but recognition of the lethal cage he would create corrodes a space in his chest where his heart used to be. . . and the look in Crow’s eyes sows the seed to thoughts Moth already chants.

With fingers still stiff from frigid ice, Moth manages to close his hand into a fist as he bring it to his chest and signs his apology until the sun crests the horizon.

#destiny the game #destiny 2 #destiny oc #destiny guardians #crow #Moth #OC #body horror #nightmare #season of the splicer #Moth is so tired

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kaiparker-avengerssmut · 3 years

Text

CURSED: CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Accusing, Denying”

Kai Parker x OC!Mack Grace

Series synopsis: "We're both cursed, in a way."

We all know the story of Kai Parker, but he once lived in a very different life. Do you ever wonder what that life looked like?

Chapter summary: a new person arrives, Kai gets jealous

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death

Masterlist | series Masterlist

School was starting again, and Mack was loosing her shit. It was the first time that the reality of Ben's death had truly dawned on her.

But not in the way you'd expect - she wasn't guilty, nor was she upset. No, she was anxious and terrified about people finding out what she had done. They would notice, after all - who doesn't show up for the first day of school when every student either wants to be them or fears them? There's no logical reason as to why Ben wouldn't be there, Mack thought.

Except he's dead, she thought.

Mack took a deep breath, composing herself as she pushed open the front door, shouting a goodbye to her dad before letting the door slam shut behind her. The rumble of Kai's car engine echoed in the chilly January morning air, Mack's breath forming a little cloud before her at how cold it really was. She reached the black Jeep, wrapping her fingers around the handle and pulling the door open.

"Nice car - I see you've really done a lot to it over the Chris holidays!" Mack drawled and Kai smirked.

"Thank you for noticing! I went to this new place - I think it's called something like 'my girlfriend is a raging bitch who turns into a werewolf' or something like that." Kai smiled brightly back, sarcasm dripping from their words like syrup. Mack shook her head with a little smile, rolling her eyes as she plugged her seatbelt and dumped her bag on the floor by her feet.

"Whatever." She laughed, smiling happily against Kai's lips as he pulled her in for a languid kiss.

"Good morning." He mumbled against her lips as he pulled back, voice still slightly rasping and making a small shiver rattle its way down her spine and straight there.

"Morning." She murmured back, barely aware of Kai's amused smirk as he figured out what happened.

"I'm warning you now, Malachai Parker - this month will be one hell of a ride." Mack mused.

"And why is that, Princess?" Kai asked with a sickly sweet grin.

"I thought I told you no to call me princess." Mack deadpanned and Kai smirked.

"And I thought I told you not to call me Malachai." He shot back and Mack huffed. "So why is this month going to be one 'hell of a ride'?" Kai asked again and Mack smirked at him this time, causing one of Kai's brows to shoot up.

"I was checking dates, and it turns out - the full moon isn't the only cycle you'll have to worry about this month." Mack grinned and Kai's eyes widened, a hollow groan emitting from his plump lips.

"They're happening at the same time?" His eyes bugged and Mack nodded, smugness plastered on her face.

"Yep." She countered, popping the 'p'.

"Fucking cycles." Kai muttered under his breath, begging to pull out of Mack's drive way and making her laugh. Mack's head snapped up at the sound of rustling and she instantly rolled her eyes.

"Pork rinds? Really? It's fucking 8am!" She exclaimed as Kai popped one into his mouth, chewing nonchalantly threw a smile. "God, you are unbelievable sometimes." Mack scoffed, leaning back into her seat and listening to Kai crunching the rest of the drive to school.

...

Mack and Kai wandered to their lockers once they reached the school, Kai leant against his while Mack rummaged through hers - clearly trying to find something.

"What have you lost?" Kai asked, trying to hide his amusement as Mack nearly threw some book on the floor in frustration. She groaned, slamming her locker door shut and looking at Kai.

"My sketches! The book filled with everything I was going to use to get a scholarship!" She exclaimed, rubbing her forehead with stress. Kai stood up at this, now concerned because he knew how much she cared about going to college.

"Well maybe you took them home?" He suggested and she shook her head.

"No, I definitely left them here." She mumbled, now looking around them to see if someone had stolen the book or something. She froze when a whisper reached her ears though.

"Have you seen Ben? He hasn't contacted me since before Christmas." Someone Mack recognised to be one of Ben's friends asked another guy worriedly.

"Don't worry yourself, man. He's probably black out drunk somewhere or hanging out with some chick. Chill." The other guy responded, grabbing a book out his locker before letting it swing shut, and Mack let out a heavy sight of relic as the walked off. Then her eyes landed on something and she seethed.

Mack stormed over to the clearly obnoxious boy, fists clenched and face red as she walked over to him.

The guy was tall - nearly taller than Kai - with wisps of curly blonde hair fluttering over his forehead and the rest piled messily on top of his head like a mop of curly wool. His eyes were dark, so dark the nearly looked black (a stark contrast to Kai). But even from where she was Mack could see he was muscly, with thick arms and most likely a toned stomach, but for now he was clad in baggy jeans, a lose fitting t-shirt and a faded blue denim jacket - with pulled out and distressed seems. Overall he was the opposite of Kai, who had darker, straight hair; deep steel-blue eyes, and was quite scrawny and slim (that didn't mean he wasn't still a beast in bed). Kai also opted for leather jackets, much darker jeans, often black, not blue, and band t-shirts - AC/DC, Nirvana etc.

When she reached him Mack slammed her hand into the lock beside him, the metal door slamming shut and catching the distracted boy's attention.

"Hey, you have something mine." Mack demanded bluntly, eyes narrowed at the large sketch book clutched in his left hand. The guy looked down - following her gaze - and held the book up.

"Oh, this? I didn't know it belonged to anyone. It was only ok the floor when I found it." The guy shrugged, before leaning in. "But I'm sure we could arrange something so you could get it back." He said, almost seductively, but Mack merely snorted.

"That's won't be necessary. You're going to give me my book back and I'm going to go back over there to my boyfriend, while you piss off and find another girl to bother." Mack said with a sweet smile, pointing behind her to Kai who was still stood at their lockers, jealousy in his eyes as he watched the whole thing from afar.

"I think you should give me a kiss first, after all, I did pick up your book, rather than let it be trampled on." The guy smirked, leaning down again so that his lips her beside Mack's ear and his eyes were on Kai. "And if you're lucky maybe I'll have you screaming later." He whipped and Mack pulled back, a shiver going through her.

"Give it back." She demanded, but he held it above her head.

"Not until you give me a kiss, sweetheart." The guy chided and Mack sighed a frustrated groan. She leant up quickly on her toes, pecking the guy's lips so quickly before grabbing her book from his hand and instantly grimacing, wiping her lips and turning back to face Kai.

What she saw scared her, his nostrils flared and face red as he watched the scene before him.

"I think your boyfriend's a little jealous." The guy mused in Mack's ear, head at the side of hers as they both watched Kai slam his locker shut.

"Come with me." Mack demanded, grabbing the guy's bicep and dragging him along with her.

Mack pulled the boy into the first empty room she found, hand clasping his wrist tightly as she pushed past the tables and chairs before forcing him to sit.

"What the hell was that?" She seethed, a dangerous glint running her eyes. The boy laughed, smirking nonchalantly.

"What? I was saving you! That punk doesn't deserve an ounce of your respect, damn it!" The guy defended, raising his hands in surrender when Mack tried to hit him.

"Save me? Of for God's sake! I don't need saving, Kai isn't going to hurt me!" Mack was doing everything in her power not to rip the boy's head off.

"That's not the was Kim explained it!" He exclaimed and Mack groaned.

"So Kim sent you?" Mack seethed and the boy nodded. "Who are you? What's your name?" Mack demanded and he chuckled.

"Feisty one, you are." He mused and Mack's gaze darkened.

"What's. Your. Name?" She spat through gritted teeth.

"Shawn." He said and Mack nodded.

"Well, Shawn, you can tell my sister that I don't need watching-"

"So that you can kill another of her boyfriends? I don't think you." Shawn said and Mack rolled her eyes.

"I didnt kill anyone!"

"You and I both know that's a lie." Shawn whispered, now stood up and caging Mack against the desk, his breath fanning over her cheeks as he spoke.

"Kenz?" Kai's voice grabbed her attention and Mack's head snapped up, looking at Kai her eyes soften.

"Kai!" He slowly made his way into the room and Shawn snooped off, slipping past Kai.

"I'll leave you two alone then." He commented before Kai help up a hand.

"You're not going anywhere." Kai's eyes were burning, he looked like the epitome of rage. "And you." Kai said pointedly, looking straight into Mack's eyes, "better explain who the fuck that is, right now." He seethed, pointing at Shawn but not taking his eyes off of Mack and she glanced never pushy between them.

"He's um, a friend of Kim's..." Mack stuttered and Kai scoffed.

"Yeah, right. Who is he?!" Kai demanded, slamming his hand on the desk next to Mack and making her jump.

"No one!" She yelled and Kai's nostrils flared, his face red.

"Oh really." He replied bluntly and Mack looked at him in shock.

"Yes really! If you have a problem, then tell me!" She dared and kai stared her down, his gaze flitting to Shawn momentarily.

"I'd better not keep you, your boyfriend's waiting." Kai spat, a dark glare overcoming him as he glanced at Shawn, who was loitering awkwardly in the door way, not really sure what to do. Mack followed his gaze for scoffing.

"He's not my boyfriend! I hate him!" Mack claimed and Kai looked away, rolling his eyes.

"Whatever." Kai dismissed.

"Kai!" Mack exclaimed.

"What?" He shot back dryly.

"Stop!" She shouted as he began to walk towards the door, ready to shoulder past Shawn.

"Why?" He bit back, pausing but not turning to face her.

"Because I love you, you idiot!" Mack's words made Kai's jaw clench, his eyes cloud with anger as he looked from Shawn and back to Mack again.

"Maybe you should've thought of that before you got yourself a little lap-dog, huh?" Kai sneered before pushing past Shawn and put into the throws of students busily shuffling through the crowed halls, disappearing into the mass of people.

Mack set her jaw, tears staining her eyes and she looked over a Shawn. A dark look was in her eyes as she walked past him, too.

"Mack, wait!" He called after her but the girl was already gone.

...

Mack's fingers drummed against the tabled restlessly, head turned away from Kai who sat beside her. He would huff every thirty seconds, shorting her a dirty glance before looking away again.

The door opening made Mack sit up straight in her chair, as nothing interesting ever happened in this class. Normally her and Kai would entertain each other but as the boy refused to speak to Mack, it was proving a very dull lesson.

Three men in uniform strode in, guns in the belts at their hips and walkie-talkies strapped over their chests. "POLICE" was written in white over their backs and the word made everyone switch on, murmurs and whispers floating around the room like a wave. Mack noticed Kai straighten up at this too, Mack's stomach dropping as she tried to swallow the guilt.

The tallest of the three men cleared his throat, turning to face the class while his two colleagues spoke quietly to their teacher.

"Hello, students. I am Officer Moore," he spoke authoritatively, "and today I am here to tell you something that may be...shocking." There were whispers floating about. "So," he said a little louder - grabbing the students' attention, "if you all quiet down, we'll get to business."

Mack's leg was bouncing furiously under the table, hand clenched into a tight fist and she bit her lips to stop herself letting out a sharp gasp at the pain of her nails digging into her sweaty palm. Kai reached out for her hand, uncurling it and holding it tight in his own, clearly not bothered about the little crescent-shaped cuts that were now leaking blood. The gesture calmed Mack, and she soon settled, the feeling of Kai's skin on hers comforting.

"We are here to tell you that Ben McCoy," he paused, murmurs erupting around the room at the mention of Ben, "has been declared a missing person."

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hieludoboi · 4 years

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Or so You Believed

A/n- sorry I’ve been gone! I’m trying to get requests done but I’ve been going through quite the writers block! I’ll get those requests out as soon as I can, I promise! For now please enjoy some Kuroo Angst

A/n- Ahahahahahahaha I feel like garbage and I can’t write. I put this through grammarly and it said I had bland writing and that made me sad? Anyway, I’ll try and get to finishing requests but I’m going through a bit of an episode rn :( I really do hope you guys enjoy this though, and I’m sorry if this is bad :(

A/n- I went through and fixed a few spelling and grammar mistakes! This story should now be entirely gender neutral! If you fin any mistakes pleaseeeeee let me know!

Pairing Kuroo/Gender Neutral! Reader

Summary- A summer fling had led to more than either one of them had bargained for.

Warnings- Mentions and slight portrayal of nsfw things, yelling, breakdowns, Angst, breaking up, crying, just very sad in general :(

At that moment it had all felt right. His lips were gentle against their skin, fitting perfectly on theirs. His scent had stained their sheets, and the taste of his lips constantly lingered on their lips. It had felt right, being tangled in a disarray of sheets and pillows, hands and lips roaming yet never straying too far. At that moment they were gone, wrapped away in a blissful dance of warm comfort and empty words. Kuroo could feel their hands leaving a trail as they drew maps on his skin, he could taste the desperation on their lips, and for moments he wondered if they could taste his desperation as well.

A little fling was all it was. Constant text messages and calls, flirtatious joking, it was perfect. So where had they gone wrong? One way or another they began to spiral, separate pieces of the same thread unraveling to reveal frayed edges and tips; they were never a whole thread, always separate strings. Some days it was his fault, other days it was their fault. Official, it was all they had wanted. They wanted him to hold them close, play with their hair, and stroke their arms. Intimacy is what they craved, sought out in any form he was able to offer.

Long nights were spent in bed together, frayed threads tangled in desperate attempts to pass through the eye of the needle as one. They had hoped that his warm touch would fix it all, hoped that the words he mumbled in their ear as their bodies messily embroidered, were truth and not false nets of lies to catch onto as they fell.

Tonight was different. Hands and lips wandered but never strayed, and not for Kuroo’s sake, but their sake. Kuroo knew, even though they never talked about it, even though their lips were sealed, Kuroo could still see the haze that fogged their eyes. Their last relationship had pulled a plug on their certain spark, left them empty, and Kuroo could see it. As they looked for ways to fill an empty shell, they had stumbled upon Kuroo. Kuroo and his cocky charm, Kuroo and his purring voice, Kuroo and his stable arms. Kuroo provided safety, security, touch, emotion, something that was previously unavailable in their last relationship. So maybe that’s why they thought they loved him.

Tonight, it was different. There was an unusual intensity behind every kiss and nibble, an unexpected spark in every touch. Their eyes were fogged, clouded, and misty, Kuroo knew that something was different. So he stopped their hands, gently pushed them away, and stared at them with pitiful eyes. It was obvious what they wanted. They wanted Kuroo to have every inch of them, take them, and fill the void that was left behind.

“Why’d you stop?” Y/n stared up at Kuroo, a certain pain in their eyes. Were they not good enough for him?

“Y/n, you’re not in a good state of mind for this.” His voice was calm, gentle, and stable, but they didn’t like the look in his eyes, the look of pity and worry.

“Kuroo, I’m fine. I’m ready, okay? I want my first time to be with you. Kuroo I... I love you.” their voice was soft, shaking, and unstable. They were breaking, and Kuroo knew they were. Yet still, he flinched, stopping to hold one of their hands.

“No. You don’t love me, okay? You-you think you do, but you don’t. You know what you feel, and you know it’s not for me, I know that you know this isn’t right.” Kuroo explained gently, squeezing their hand just a bit. Y/n aggressively pulled away from Kuroo, holding their hand to their chest and staring at him with frayed e/c eyes.

“Who are you to tell me what I feel? I love you Kuroo, okay? I l-” Y/n flinched, practically jumping back as Kuroo abruptly stood up, towering over them.

“Stop saying that! You only think you love me because you don’t know what love is! All you’ve ever felt is toxicity, guys who use you and toss you to the side. Guys who want you to be emotionally available at all times but won’t even talk to you! Y/n, you don’t know what it is!” Kuroo’s voice was faltering. It was unstable and his eyes were beginning to fill with tears.

“You know what I feel when I’m with you? I feel warm, okay? And-and I feel safe! I feel like I’m gonna be okay and that anytime I fall you’ll be there to catch me!” Y/n screamed at Kuroo, tears endlessly flowing down their face. Kuroo stared at them in disbelief. Maybe Kuroo did love them, but he knew that they still hadn't got over their past relationship. Kuroo could see the fog in their eyes anytime they spoke about it, he noticed the way they tensed up anytime they would see him in the halls, he could hear them mumble their name as they slept.

He stayed quiet for some time, staring down at the sobbing figure before him. They didn’t know love yet. Kuroo looked the other way, his lip caught between his teeth. He did love them, but he wasn’t ready. Kuroo wasn’t ready to commit yet. He would only bring them more heartache, and he cared for them too much to hurt them.

“I-” Kuroo could feel the air catch in his chest. His eyes were wide and his hands were shaking. He hated it, but for them to know what love really is, they would have to experience true pain.

“I don’t love you, okay?” Kuroo looked the other as he spoke, glaring at the bunny plushie thrown into the corner of their room. He could hear the air catch in their throat, could hear the pain as it rattled their rib-cage with each shaky breath they took. It made Kuroo ache, made him shake with a burn he had never felt before.

“You don’t mean that...” Their voice was shaking, body trembling with despair as they clumsily stood up, hands desperately reaching for Kuroo’s. As soon as he felt their hand brush against his he snatched it away.

“Kuroo, please, please stop...” Every word they spoke was interlaced with breath hitches and stumbles. Their heart was racing and their world felt light. What were they feeling? Why were they feeling this?

“Kuroo, answer me! Please...” They screamed at first, the hysteria obvious in there voice, but as they spoke, their voice collapsed becoming nothing more than a soft whisper. He had to be lying, they thought to themselves, hands trembling as they clasped them atop their chest.

“I mean it okay. I don’t love you. I never did.” Y/n stared at him with horror, mouth agape as they watched him walk out of their bedroom. As soon as he closed the door, they crumbled. The last pieces of thread that had kept them together were finally frayed, violently detaching themselves from one another for good.

Tears trailed down his face as he walked home, hands shoved in his pockets while his eyes focused on his shoes. Maybe he did love them. Maybe for a split-second, the threads had all twisted perfectly, maybe for a second, they had passed through the eye. Maybe, but it was better this way. Y/n deserved better, deserved someone who wouldn’t be afraid to truly love them, someone who would be willing to improve for them. That someone was not him. Or so he believed.

#kuroo tetsurō #haiku #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x reader #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #kuroo #kuroo angst #nekoma #kuroo oneshots #kuroo imagine #haikyuu imagines #im tired help

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #408

“tied to the rat race / a big bird in a small cage”

Who, whether a person or company, emails you the most? I really don't check my email enough to even know. If you were given an assignment to draw anything besides stick figures or just doodles, what would you draw? A meerkat of course, ha ha. Do you play the games on MySpace/Facebook? I never did. Well no, I did play "Dragons of Atlantis" when Facebook bought it or whatever, but now that it's a mobile game, I don't play anything on there. When was the last time you were sunburnt? Ha, actually now. It's from riding an hour to and an hour back from the TMS office every weekday; the sun coming in through the window got my arm. Who all do you live with? My mom and my two pets. Has a guy ever let you wear his jacket? Yeah. It was so comforting when Jason gave me his leather jacket to wear if I was cold; it was pretty big on me at that time and just really cozy. Thanks survey, now I feel like crying. :^) How many friends do you have of the opposite sex? Like, one. Do you have bird feeders hanging up outside? What about any hanging plants? No. Does your house have sliding glass doors? No. Was the last food item you ate part of a meal or a snack? A snack. What color is your hair brush? I don't use a brush, but a white comb. Would you rather it be sunny or rainy? I think I prefer sunny for the sake of helping keep my depression at bay, but sometimes I really do enjoy some nice steady rainfall at the window. Who’s the last person that you hugged, not family? I have no idea. What will your next piercing be? Probably getting my nostril re-pierced. How many people have you kissed, that you can HONESTLY say you loved? Two. Can you recall the last time you liked someone a lot? uhhhhhhhhhh now What’s scarier: spiders or worms? Worms gross me out, but a spider is more likely to actually scare me, but at the same time fascinate me. Do you play poker for real money? No. If you were pregnant, how long would you wait to tell the dad? I'd tell him immediately. Would you ever date out of your own race? I have in the past, and I would again. Do you still watch movies intended for children? Yeah. Hell, more than half the time they're better than "grown up" movies. What’s your favorite movie trilogy? Uhhhh does TLK count? ha ha What would you like to take lessons in? German. Whose Facebook password do you have? Just my own. Have you ever been suspended or expelled from school? No. Have you ever crawled through a window? Yes. Are you too forgiving? Yuuuup. Ever have a sleepover with the opposite sex? Well, we were dating. Have you ever gotten someone suspended? No. Have you ever wanted to be a teacher? No. Would you live with someone without marrying them? Yes; I believe you really probably should before getting married so you see if you "fit" as far as household habits and such go. Have you ever wanted to strip naked in front of someone? Yeah no. I'd feel way too awkward. What are you listening to? A John Wolfe video. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital? My mom. Did anyone watch you the last time you kissed someone? I mean possibly, it was a public place, and some people are definitely caught off-guard by seeing two girls kiss. Do either of your parents have any tattoos or piercings? No. Mom wants a tattoo, though, dedicated to all of us kids and her grandkids. Are you desperate for anyone’s approval, in particular? -_- Would you ever stalk a celebrity? Um, no???? You don't stalk ANYBODY. It's a violation of space, privacy, basic respect... Do you have any National Geographic magazines lying around? No. Have you ever been mistaken for the opposite gender? No. Do you use liquid foundation, mousse, or just powder? None. Have you ever picked out a song to listen to on a juke box? Maybe? I don't remember. Have you ever eaten 3 meals from 3 different fast food places in one day? Oh god, I hope not. I don't remember ever having done that. Have you ever ridden in a limo? No. I always wanted to as a kid. Have you ever tried to put a huge puzzle together? Yeah, I have. I used to like to do that with my mom especially. Ever wake up early on Saturdays to go garage sale shopping? Yes, actually. My family used to love to do that. Do you keep magazines by your toilet? No. Ya better just bring your phone. What did you last take a picture of with your camera? On my actual camera, a hydrangea bush. On the camera on my phone, I believe my cat. Are you proud of who you are? Not... really. If you were a waiter/waitress, would you make good tips? Nope. I'm too awkward and I would NEVER write the orders down quickly enough. I write so slow. What are the best kind of Girl Scout cookies? The chocolate and peanut butter ones. If you hit an animal while driving, would you stop to see if it was okay? Well I doubt it's okay, but I would absolutely stop to move it away from the road and sob my eyes out. I'd probably try to find some flowers to rest on it. What's your favorite kind of pasta? Spaghetti. Have you ever played computer solitaire for hours on end? I don't even know how to play solitaire. What's the dumbest thing you've heard of that supposedly causes cancer? Who the hell knows, everything does apparently. If you saw wet cement, would you place your handprint in it? No. Can you honestly tell the difference between DiGiorno and delivery pizza? Absolutely. Do you own a lava lamp? No, but I would looove one. What charity or cause would you donate $1,000 to if possible? Off the top of my head, the Trevor Project. I'd probably research before actually donating, though. What would you say is your greatest strength? I guess that I care a lot about people. What's one food that you find too disgusting to eat? Things like clams, es cargot, sashimi... just ew. What's something that will never bore you? Uhhhh good question. Pizza Hut or Domino's? Domino's, by a long shot. What's something that always, no matter what, makes you laugh? Stupid Vines, lol. Have you ever been in a canoe? No. How many vehicles does your family own? Just one, my mom's. Are you generally afraid of taking risks? Yes. Have you ever caught/swatted a fly in/with your hand? Ew, no. Would you ever dye your hair bubblegum pink? Yeah. What was the last thing to happen that you really weren't expecting? The woman whose wedding I shot TWO YEARS ago finally reaching out to me about buying some pictures. What does it mean when you start eating less? What does it mean when you start eating more? If I'm eating less, odds are I'm extremely serious about losing weight. If I'm eating more than usual, high odds are I'm depressed or bored. Or I'm on my period. What’s the strangest named pet you’ve ever had? Harry Potter, ha ha. He was a guinea pig. What are some defense mechanisms you find yourself using when in an argument with someone? I'm very likely to just metaphorically flee from it because I fear confrontation so much. Do you know if there is anyone who was once important to you that you will never talk to again, even though you could? If I have any say in it, I'm never talking to Colleen again. List the initials of every person you have ever kissed, from first kiss to most recent kiss. (Put “?”s in the place of initials you don’t know.) I'm not listing their last initial, but anyway: J, T, G, S. Does your face break out right before your period? Not "break out," no. I'll just get a pimple or two. What did you dream about last night? All I remember was that it focused on Jason and his late mother. I miss her so much. I hope so much that whatever exists beyond death, she found the peace she was so worthy of. Do you think the United States health care system needs reform? FUCK yes I do. Our health care system is a disgusting fucking nightmare. Who was the last person you cried over? Jason. My PTSD has been doing quite well, but I had an emotional episode recently nonetheless. Do you prefer ceiling fans or fans that stand up on the floor and you plug in? I use both, but I think my preference is ceiling ones. What would you do if your son was at home, crying all alone on the bedroom floor because he’s hungry, and the only way to feed him was to sleep with a man for a little bit of money? Hypothetically, if I had a child, if I'm totally honest, I probably would. I would hate it, but I'm not letting my child starve to death if I can do something about it. Why do you think evolution is true/false? Because there is substantial evidence for it and imo is the most logical theory we've thought up. Some things about it seem kinda far-fetched, but I still have faith in it. I trust scientists and the evolution we see firsthand, such as caterpillars to cocoons, tadpoles to frogs, etc. Who came through for you at a time when you really, really needed it? Colleen. She let me live with her when I was technically homeless. What turned out better than you thought? Good question. What object did you used to, or do you still, keep hidden? My drawings. I've flipped my shit when Mom's found them in the past, even though she went on and on about how "amazing" they were. I don't draw anything "bad" at all, but still, I don't like people seeing my creativity. Who can’t you figure out? My damn self. What are you hoping for? The most recent thing would be hoping Shonda buys a lot, if not all, the wedding photos I took. I desperately want to use the money along with what I have left from Christmas to buy Venus' terrarium and proper supplies all by myself. What’s the best physical object that you kept from a previous relationship? Idk, there's a few things. What is the most socially unacceptable thing that you have no problem with? Maybe women not shaving. Like I couldn't care less. What have you done that you surprised yourself by doing? *shrug* What used to be a secret about you? Hm. Anything that used to be a secret probably still is one. What is the most stalky thing you’ve ever done? Just Facebook digging, and that's not something I've done a lot off. What did you wind up liking that you didn’t want anything to do with at first? The only thing that comes to mind at the moment is something sexual, so let's not go into that. Who do you owe your life that you can never pay back? Mom and Jason have both saved me from what would've been suicide attempts.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''monkey tree'' by mother mother

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2manyfandoms2count · 4 years

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#MarichatMay Day 28

Aaaand I’m back with some fluffy Adrien “she’s just a friend” Agreste doing what all good friends do when there’s a black out; bringing them food.

I can’t believe it’s already the end of May!! Oh well, I’ll just embrace my lateness and bring Marichat May into June for a bit ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Enjoy!

@marichatmay

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Day 28: Lights out

Black outs hardly happen in Paris; “the City of Lights” wouldn’t be a fitting epithet if they did, after all. Ever since the rise of Hawkmoth, though, they had become more frequent, even if just for an hour tops, the Akumatised seemingly being fond of throwing large objects into electricity generators.

It had therefore taken Marinette by surprise when the power had gone off in her neighbourhood, on a crisp November night. She hadn’t actually noticed at first. She had come home from the Collège Françoise Dupont and crashed on her bed, exhausted from a busy week at school. Her parents were absent, on a trip to a baking convention, so she gave herself some time to hang around, scrolling on her Instagram. After a full day of Brevet Blancs, the least she could do was relax. She gushed to Alya about Adrien’s newest pictures via text message while Tikki got the live commentary, making sure to save the ones she would ceremoniously be putting up on her board. It was a hard task -how could someone look so good all the time?- which was only interrupted by the signal that her battery was getting low. She groaned and rolled over to plug her phone in, but noticed the charger did nothing to rectify the situation.

Confused, the young girl tested several power outlets in her room before trying to turn on the lights. Nothing happened.

“Mince, alors.” She swore lightly, taking the few steps that separated her from her window. She peeked outside, looking out for any commotion that would betray another attack.

She could see lights across the Seine, and the Eiffel Tower was sparkling, sign that it wasn’t a city-wide problem, but the streets near hers were pitch black. One of her neighbours waved after seeing her, and shouted there had been a small fire in a nearby shop, with a potential gas leak, which was why the firemen had deemed fit to turn the power off for the block; it was supposed to be restored later in the evening when all necessary checks had been carried out. Marinette thanked him and went looking for candles in the mean time.

“Do you think Ladybug should go and help them?” She asked Tikki as she searched through drawers for matches.

“Unfortunately there isn’t much you could do.” The Kwami replied, floating up next to her, eating a macaron. “I’m afraid a Lucky Charm would not help in this situation.”

Marinette made a face, thinking about her dinner. She was doubtful she’d be able to eat anything warm tonight. She entrusted the candles to Tikki and rummaged inside her fridge, grabbing some cheese and fruit from it. She took the remains of a baguette on the counter and some cutlery before making her way back upstairs.

She set up for the evening, lighting candles around her room to allow her to see. She found some battery-powered ones buried in her Christmas decoration trunk and settled with a blanket and a book on her chaise. She was in the middle of a tense scene when there was a thud on her roof. Paralysed, feeling as if her heart could rip out of her rib cage at any moment, she let her book drop as her skylight slowly opened. She scrambled for the knife she’d brought up with her and stood up in what she hoped was a good attacking stance.

A familiar dark figure dropped on her bed, holding what looked what looked like a picnic basket.

“‘Evening Purr-incess, did so-meow-ne order room service?” Chat’s eyes glinted in the candlelight as he slid down her ramp.

Marinette’s arm dropped to her side. She was torn between yelling at him for scaring her half to death and hugging him for not being a burglar. And also (maybe) because he was him. “Hey Kitty, think you could give me a bit of a heads up before barging in like this?” She ended up saying, with just a hint of reproach in her voice.

“Sorry if I startled you.” He said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I came as soon as I heard about the black out. Will you forgive me in exchange of food?”

Adrien himself hadn’t been affected, despite living just a couple of streets away. The Agreste Mansion was very well equipped to deal with situations like this one. Had Nino not been suddenly logged off from their UMS game, he probably wouldn’t have known about the situation at all. His first thought had been for Marinette, whom he knew was spending the weekend alone. Showing up at her door as his civilian self with provisions was not an option -how would he explain his father letting him go outside in the middle of a power cut, when he wasn’t usually allowed out any other time?-, but for all she knew Chat lived on the other side of town.

“That’s really nice of you, thank you Chat.” Marinette smiled and decided he deserved a kiss on the cheek for his efforts. “What made you think I needed company?”

Chat froze slightly. He hadn’t come over in a while, too busy studying for their exams. He technically wasn’t supposed to know she would be alone as her parents had only remembered the convention in the middle of the week. “Er... Adrien told me you might need stuff? He called me earlier.” That was a believable lie.

“Adrien talks about me?” Marinette’s heart fluttered in her chest. She resisted the urge to swoon, but couldn’t fight the blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Well, yes, I mean you’re his good friend, and good friends worry about each other in blackouts, don’t they?...” Chat trailed, a little puzzled by her reaction. Of course he would talk about her. She was the person he valued most beside Ladybug. And his oddly composed family, he supposed.

Whether Marinette chose to ignore him or whether she simply didn’t hear him, too busy internally jumping up and squealing at the information, he didn’t know, but she didn’t reply. He was happy to see her with such a wide smile. Marinette’s happiness was one of the prettiest things he’d ever seen, and he worked in the fashion industry, so that was saying something.

Chat cleared his throat. “Anyway, is there anything you need help with? In the bakery purr-haps?”

Marinette snapped back to reality. “Oh. Yes, I guess, I need to check the fridge downstairs is working, just in case. Do you have to go?”

“For you, I have all the time in the world.” That was another thing friends could tell each other, right?

“Okay, let’s head downstairs then. Do you need a flashlight?” She climbed to her bed to get hers, a relic from when she used to secretly read past her bedtime.

“I’ve got my night-vision goggles on, don’t you worry.” He winked, tapping gently on his mask.

They made their way down to the bakery’s storage room, at the back of the building. Marinette lead the way, expertly dodging bags of flour as she weaved her way towards the fridge. Chat trailed behind, marvelling at the many supplies that surrounded them. Sweet smells tickled his nostrils, chocolate, vanilla, raspberry, rose and passion fruit in between others, an original combination he very much enjoyed. Too busy basking in the quaint atmosphere of the bakery, he tripped on a box and brought down a packet of rice flour and a couple pans in his fall. The commotion gave Marinette a jump scare; she had been checking the temperature of the fridge, which seemed to be stable, with her back to him. She turned around, shining a light directly at Chat, lying on the floor covered in white powder, grinning guiltily.

“Sorry?” He said as he got up, trying to dust the flour off. His hair was completely white.

“Let me help you.” Marinette strode up to him with a giggle at his unusual appearance and mussed up his hair, standing on her tiptoes. The flour fell like snow over both of their faces. She smirked as she heard him purr in response. “For an animal that’s supposed to be discreet, you’re hardly light on your feet tonight.” He stuck his tongue out in response. Standing so close to her, their faces bare inches apart seemed to freeze his thoughts for the benefit of accelerating his heart beat.

Satisfied everything was in order, and the bakery was locked and secure, the pair went back upstairs, grabbing a box of macarons as they did, Chat admitting he’d omitted to bring dessert. They settled on the floor in Marinette’s room, laying down the picnic. Marinette was impressed by the amount of food there was.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat, so I just took what I found.” Chat shrugged. Namely, sushi, quiche, ratatouille and beef Wellington.

“You’re really the best, you know that?” She smiled in reply, her head tilting to the side as she looked at him fondly. What would she do without her Chaton?

“Purr-etty sure that would actually be you.” He held her hand absentmindedly.

They joked around as they ate, both enjoying the company. It had been a while since Adrien had had dinner with anyone. He appreciated Marinette’s humour, and her interest in him, while still being respectful of the mask and the secrecy that went with it. Marinette was glad to have Chat with her tonight. He made the black out more cheerful.

They ended up curled up in her chaise after dinner, Chat reading her book out loud thanks to his night vision. The traditional candles had burnt out, decreasing the light source in the room. His voice, so familiar and smooth, lulled Marinette to sleep. She snuggled against him as he spoke, embracing the warmth of his body. Chat stopped reading and looked at her affectionately, reluctant to disturb her in her slumber. He moved delicately from under her and picked her up, bridal style. He carried her to her bed and tucked her in. He nipped back down to get a piece of baguette and cheese for Plagg (the Kwami would never forgive him if he didn’t get him anything), and a battery-powered candle to leave beside her bed, in case she needed it when she woke up.

Marinette stirred as he open her skylight, muttering something along the lines of Lucky Charm. Chat found it odd, but didn’t question it.

“You’re my Lucky Charm, you know that Purr-incess?” He whispered as he carefully tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her on the forehead before leaving.

Marinette woke up the next morning in the best of moods. The power was back on, and she’d had the most wonderful dream of Adrien calling her his Lucky Charm.

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