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pr1ncessavar0se · 5 months

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Can I have headcannons or a onshot of Viviv being jealous over someone flirting with ladysoot?

ask and you shall receive ໒꒰ྀི ⸝⸝´ ꒳ `⸝⸝ ꒱ྀི১

for headcannons:

Lady

• Lady would try and entertain whoever’s flirting with her a little bit, playing along with it all whilst giving the person messing with her the most backhanded compliments she can possibly give. she already has a sharp tongue, may as well put it to use!

• if the person doesn’t get the hint, you bet your ass Lady’s gonna get petty and blatantly insult them with a smile on her face :)

Vivia

• He’s 100% glaring the mf down, giving the most bombastic side eye possible *vine boom*

• if they’re continuing to mess with Lady, he definitely gets a little handsy with her. nothing too major like a hand on her waist or on her hip as he holds her closer to him

The one time Lady and Vivia go out for a date. The one time they go to the cafe in Ginma District for a calm date that was outside of the agency or the hotel… Of course someone tries to stir trouble. Vivia was always very good avoiding trouble, but the same couldn’t be said for Lady. She was practically known at the NDA as the second biggest Peacekeeper magnet, the first being Yuma. And of course, someone is now trying to flirt with her.

Lady greeted the guy with her usual bubbly attitude, being as chipper as ever. Meanwhile, Vivia, who was sitting across Lady, was unable to take his eyes off the man flirting with his girl. His glare was filled with an anger that could rival even the most hellbent of people, despite his face outwardly looking so tired and droopy as he normally did.

“So, are you taken or what?” The guy smirked in a smug manner as he spoke, which only caused Lady to laugh, “What kind of question is that, silly?” Vivia’s ears perked up as he heard Lady’s words, he knew she would stand her ground! “Yeah, well…” The guy rolled his eyes, “…doesn’t seem like you are.” The man’s audacity made Vivia’s eyes widen, he had some real balls to say that to her, especially when he was right there.

Lady couldn’t help but giggle, “Well, that must mean you need an eye exam!” She happily chimed, using the same happy, sweet tone as she did before. To take it a step further, she took one of Vivia’s hand in her own, her thumb gently caressing his big, slender hand. Seeing this got Vivia to crack a smile. He knew that Lady was damn good as handling trouble, which was something that he wasn’t good at whatsoever. So, he figured letting Lady do all the talking might be a good thing in this situation.

However, that didn’t do much to deter the man. He continued to try and win over Lady despite Vivia being right there, and let‘s not forget that Lady herself tried rejecting this guy’s advances. “You sure he can treat you right? Y’know, I could be much more of a gentleman than him.” his tone was still so cocky and smug, and it was enough to drive both master detectives mad.

“Better than him?” *Lady smirked at the guy as she referenced Vivia, and that was enough of a cue for him to prove she was right. As her hand was still in his, he lifted her hand up to his pale lips, pressing them against her ivory knuckles. He held his gentlemanly kiss there for a couple seconds before he gently removed his lips from her hand, a sly smirk forming on his face as he looked up at the man who was trying to steal his girl. Lady’s face flushed light pink as she giggled, “See? He’s such a sweetheart!”

“No matter how hard it tries, a penguin will never be able to fly.” Vivia’s smooth, deep voice rang out between the three as he finally spoke up. The guy’s smirk faded as he began to scowl, obviously offended by Vivia’s words. “And should you pursue a cat this wishes not to be pet, it will eventually scratch you.” Vivia firmly stated, glaring back at the guy as he got visibly angrier. Seeing Vivia speak up like this and show off that Lady was his was enough to make the blush on her face grow brighter, another giggle escaping her pretty pink lips.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a date to enjoy.” Vivia finished off his small rant to the guy, giving another kiss to Lady’s hand as if he were a prince greeting his fair maiden. Lady giggled again as she turned her gaze onto the man, “See? Isn’t he such a sweetie? Now, you heard him. Run along, and maybe don’t try and sour some other people’s dates?” Lady smugly smirked at the man as he growled and walked away.

Maybe having the two of them deal with trouble together isn’t such a bad idea after all.

#shut the fuck down ava #ava’s asks #ava’s writing #master detective archives: rain code #rain code #mdarc #rain code oc #mdarc oc #lady soot #vivia twilight #twisoot

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elcinelateleymickyandonie · 2 years

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''DROOPY, MAESTRO DETECTIVE'' (DROOPY, MASTER DETECTIVE)

Es una serie de televisión animada estadounidense producida por Hanna-Barbera Cartoons en asociación con Turner Entertainment , y un spin-off de Tom & Jerry Kids. Debutó en el bloque Fox Kids de los sábados por la mañana dey duró 13 episodios del 11 de septiembre al 4 de diciembre de 1993; en 1994, se eliminó del horario de sábado por la mañana de Fox el 1 de enero, y volvió los días laborables por la tarde en agosto y septiembre.

Año de inicio: 11 de septiembre 1993

Año de finalización: 4 de diciembre de 1993

Dirección: Joseph Barbera

Créditos: Tomado de Wikipedia

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Droopy,_Master_Detective

Para ver el tráiler ingresa al enlace:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i-1p4FxlbBY

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vhshell · 4 years

Video

youtube

Droopy: Master Detective - intro PL

#vhs hell #droopy #master detective #cartoon #tvp2 #youtube

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muchalucha-art · 3 years

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Seeing a lot of deserved Hanna Barbera love out there, so I thought I would take a break from enmascarados today.

When I started my career in the nineties, HB was still in existence and I worked as a trainee layout artist on Tom & Jerry Kids, Screwball Squirrel, Droopy Master Detective and 2 Stupid Dogs. The first three were by no means good, but 2 Stupid Dogs is an underrated gem and I encourage everyone to seek it out.

Atter Mucha Lucha! ended, Lili Chin and I were asked to animate and produce these promos for Cartoon Network Asia featuring some classic HB characters. Apologies for the quality, as we never received a HD version from them,

#hanna barbera #the flintstones #johnny bravo #cow and chicken #boomerang #popeye #tom and jerry

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lesserknownwaifus · 3 years

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A young blonde woman from the 1993 Droopy: Master Detective episode “Sherlock Droopy”.

#droopy #submission

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mythgirlimagines · 3 years

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Now that it’s Tuesday, a new Myth has been introduced to your inbox and soon, your blog! Give a salute to Myth, the Former Ultimate Police Officer!

——————————————————

BACKSTORY AND TALENT

As a child, Myth has always had a strong moral compass and an even stronger sense of justice. With the push of her father, who happened to be in law enforcement, Myth studied hard and eventually graduated from the same academy that her father graduated in. Because of her age, gender, and the fact that her father graduated the academy with mere luck, many people at the academy doubted her skills. However, this is fueled Myth’s desire to succeed and prove them wrong. And that she ended up doing, for she wounded up apprehending criminal after criminal, and eventually attended Hope’s Peak as the Ultimate Police Officer. Even as a Former Ultimate, she still has a strong sense of justice and seeks to guide the Ultimate and Jr. Ultimate students towards the path of proper morality, and away from the path of criminal intent.

——————————————————-

RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Lifeguard

Having grown up around water as well as having a desire to be viewed as a hero amongst people, Wyre decided to become a lifeguard. Despite Wyre‘s rough and tough, delinquent-esque personality, Myth and Wyre are great friends. Myth met Wyre when she was little and she accidentally slipped and fell into the pool. Wyre ended up saving Myth and the two have been friends ever since, quickly bonding over their desire to assist and help others. Myth regularly disciplines Wyre just in case Wyre gets a bit too rowdy.

Outfit: A white tank top with ripped sleeves and a Red Cross on the front, the same whistle that Myth has, red and white swim shorts, tan sandals, regularly wet and droopy hair, swimming goggles on top of their head.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Toymaker

With a secret soft spot for children and an elaborate style of dress and speech, Scar is well-known for her dark and creepy, yet adorable toys. Although she is mostly known for her porcelain dolls in gothic lolita dresses, she is also known for her creepy-cute plush animals and hand puppets/marionettes. Despite trying her best to keep up the whole “Dark Overlord of the Amusement Realm” charade, Myth knows that she has a lot more in common with Scar at first glance. The two girls formed a kinship over their love of children, but not without Myth being christened “Blinding Overlord of the Judgement Realm”.

Outfit: A black and purple gothic Lolita dress with a black top hat, two bat hairclips on each side of her bangs, a pink and white eyepatch on her left eye, purple lipstick, purple gloves, black and purple stockings, black heeled boots, a pink and white coin purse.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Seamster

Having been raised by the Former Ultimate Beautician herself, Fusion Anon knows all there is to know about fashion and clothes. Fusion’s kind-hearted and paternal nature has made him a massive hit amongst the clients at the boutique run by both him and his mother. Despite Myth not really wearing much apart from her uniform, she can tell that Fusion puts his heart and soul into sewing and mending clothes. Fusion also had Myth model for a couple of his newer fashion lines, and needless to say, Myth was thinking of wearing them to the next formal event.

Outfit: A blue and brown sweater vest over a white dress shirt and a red bowtie, the same pants, socks and shoes from his original design, a black and brown top hat resting on top of his massive afro, bandage wrapped hands, glasses from original design.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Street Artist

Having been born and raised on the streets, Fusion II has taken to tagging buildings and trees with spray paint and adopted a sarcastic and flippant demeanor to go along with that. Fusion II was eventually nicknamed “Rainbow Rapids” by her neighborhood, for both her colorful and radiant artwork and the rapid speeds that she completes said artwork in. Myth and Fusion II have quite the beef going on, which is understandable, given their talents and backgrounds. Fusion II had bad experiences with cops and thus tries to steer far away from Myth at all costs, and Myth is intent on reforming Fusion II, no matter what it takes. Just how long could this cat-and-mouse game go, and who will come out on top.

Outfit: A grey hoodie splattered with different colors, black gloves, a black facemask so she doesn‘t inhale the paint fumes, a black belt with spray cans, black tights with a rainbow gradient stripe on each end, white sneakers.

Just Anon, Ultimate Intellectual Prodigy

Having been born with high learning capabilities and a massive IQ for his age, Janon wounded up acing aptitude test after aptitude test. Unfortunately, Janon’s natural intellect made him see no point in putting actual effort into anything because he knows that he would just ace it anyways, and as such, he is very lazy and apathetic to just about everything and everyone. Janon and Myth have a mutual dislike of each other. Janon hates Myth for her goody two-shoes, stick-in-the-mud personality and Myth hates Janon for his freeloading and vulgar attitude. Similar to Fusion II, Myth is desperate to reform Janon and spark that flame of interest inside his icy-cold heart.

Outfit: Basically what he wears underneath his original outfit.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Chess Player

Having garnered infamy for her eccentric fashion sense and loud and dramatic personality, Sparkle, or as she calls herself, “SPARKLE, THE SPECTACULAR STRATEGIST!” fancies herself as a regal army leader and the chess pieces as her loyal soldiers, even in the middle of tournaments. Despite that, Sparkle remains an intelligent and analytical prodigy, managing to dominate tournament after tournament with her strategic expertise. Myth may be confused by Sparkle’s flair for the dramatics, but she can’t help but appreciate Sparkle’s intelligence and strategic mindset.

Outfit: A black and white knight costume with a checker-board patterned cape and a prop sword, her hair in a side plait, glasses from original design.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Scout, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Security Guard

When Myth heard that the founder of the first non-binary scout troop and a masterful security guard would be attending the Kibo-Con with her, she was ready for morally upright individuals, much like herself. What she wasn’t expected were evil twins that dispense only the pinnacle of cursed thoughts. Despite this, according to testimony by others, they are more morally upright then their cursed drivel would suggest, so Myth can’t hate them. Wet Sock may or may not have growing feelings for the adorable police officer, but they know that Myth is a cop and wouldn’t have time for romance.

Egg’s Outfit: A tan scout outfit with a green sash filled to the brim with merit badges, glasses from original design.

Wet Sock’s Outfit: Black T-shirt, black headphones, black jeans, black loafers, dark sunglasses.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Private Investigator

With a calm and pensive attitude, Curious is the prodigal scion of a family of influential detectives. Even at the age of 12, Curious has wowed their clients day after day with their deductive skills and ability to bring the true culprit to justice. Because Curious’s parents and Myth’s father sometimes collaborate together as business partners, Myth actually knows Curious and they regularly work on criminal cases together. Myth and Curious both get along very well for their similar talents and justice seeking personalities, despite the age gap between the two.

Outfit: Their original outfit, but with the addition of a dark brown trench coat and lighter brown gloves.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Grave Digger

Because Nerd has to dig holes for the graves as precisely as possible, as well as having to look at dead bodies all the time, Nerd is cynical, high-strung and prone to exploding at unwitting individuals. Ever since Myth established dominance at the Kibo-Con, Nerd fell head-over-heels with this diminutive, yet dominant, police officer. But unfortunately, Myth is too put off by Nerd’s vulgar nature and short temper and too overworked to pursue a relationship with him.

Outfit: His original outfit, except with brown gloves and boots, as well as a black tie with a skull design.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Tutor

Despite Eldritch‘s skittishness, Eldritch is really good at both leading a group and assisting others in their schoolwork. Eldritch originally started tutoring as a way to secure a scholarship to a prestigious university. While Myth likes Eldritch‘s mental fortitude, his social and psychical fortitude definitely needs work in Myth’s book. Myth regularly gives Eldritch confidence lessons that she learned in her police academy, in order to help Eldritch become more assertive and more trusting of others.

Outfit: A patchy brown jacket, a black turtleneck, blue jeans, black loafers, longer hair in a ponytail, fake glasses to look smarter.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Ghost Hunter

As the producer and star of the show “NRG Code”, Dream’s charisma, childlike energy and parkour stunts are more remembered by her fans than her actual incompetence at her job. Despite not finding a single ghost in her entire TV career, Dream is determined to find one at all costs. While Myth thinks that ghosts are just a bunch of supernatural bullhooey, Dream’s energy and hyperactivity are almost impossible to ignore. Dream actually took Myth along with her on a couple of ghost-hunts, so Myth can “arrest the criminal-ghosts”.

Outfit: A black puffy vest with a scary design on the back over an oversized purple sweater with black stripes on the sleeves, dark blue jeans shorts, knee-high black socks, white and red tennis shoes. Has a ghost vacuum strapped to her back.

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Competitive Eater

After trouncing many foes in multiple eating competitions, as well as breaking the world record for most mini-blueberry pancakes eaten in under a minute, Iris has also garnered fame for her mukbang channel “The Human Black Hole”. Even though Iris is adorable, Myth can’t help but feel concerned for Iris‘s health, considering how much Iris can eat in one sitting. Iris, being a massive fan of true crime, loves following around Myth and Curious and accompanying them in investigations. Although both Myth and Curious are wondering, where do the calories even go?

Outfit: A blue and yellow letterman’s jacket over a black shirt, glasses from original design, red bandana around her neck, gold medals from her eating competitions, light blue jean shorts, knee-high black socks, white sneakers, a blue baseball cap with a star on it, hair worn in two low buns.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Freelance Artist

Known under the internet pseudonym of “ultravioletprose”, Purple is renowned on the internet for her elaborate and complex digital art of whatever the commissioner wants her to draw. Unfortunately, although Purple is as cordial and polite in real life as she is on the internet, she is also avoidant of others unless a screen is separating them. Myth isn‘t much of an arts and crafts person, but even she can tell that Purple’s digital art are purely and simply masterpieces.

Outfit: A black hoodie hood-up with purple stripes on the sleeves, a black skirt, black and purple striped stockings and black Mary Janes.

This series will be focused on this headstrong cop as she tries her best to interact with others, while reforming a couple of misunderstood delinquents at the same time.

——————————————————-

APPEARANCE

As usual, Myth still has her glasses and undyed hair. Myth‘s brown hair goes down to her shoulders and curl up at the ends. She also has two star hairclips parting some of her bangs apart. On her head, concealing an ahoge, is a black and pink police cap. Myth wears the black uniform of her police academy, with a pink polo shirt underneath and white gloves. Around her neck is a grey whistle that she got from Wyre before being sent off to the police academy. Clipped to her belt is a black gun in a brown holster and grey metal handcuffs.

——————————————————

PERSONALITY

In contrast to the laidback and flirty attitude of Romantic!Myth, PoliceOfficer!Myth is headstrong, hardworking, and has no time for romance to interfere with her fight for justice. PoliceOfficer!Myth is outspoken, determined, and definitely no pushover. PoliceOfficer!Myth uses her position as a police officer in order to protect the civilians of her hometown. But also she found herself working with children and juveniles, acting as a counselor and redirecting them towards the path of morality, which is why PoliceOfficer!Myth is so intent on reforming StreetArtist!FusionII and ChildProdigy!Janon. PoliceOfficer!Myth gets along the most with people of similar professions, such as PrivateInvestigator!Curious.

——————————————————- What do you think of PoliceOfficer!Myth? I’d love to hear everyone’s opinions on this AU!

-Fusion Anon

—

Interesting! My grandpa used to be a police officer, I think

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acmeoop · 1 year

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Droopy: Master Detective Concept Art (1993)

#90s #hanna barbera #Turner entertainment #fox kids #spin off #tom and jerry kids #droopy and dripple #droopy dog #droopy master detective #concept art #concept title #production art #reboot #screwy squirrel #screwball squirrel #character designs #tex avery #droopy

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ranmagender · 1 year

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i just remembered Droopy, Master Detective was a thing. Loved that show as a kid, i watched it along with a bunch Hannah-Barbara shows at my grandma's place because she had like cable that had Cartoon Network.

Funny how you just randomly get hit with nostalgia. The theme song is a bop.

youtube

#droopy the master detective #tex avery #hannah barbera #cartoon network #Youtube

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littlemisskookie · 5 years

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Burst

Burst Ship: Namjoon | Reader Description: Your Master decides to fulfill a long time, taboo fantasy of yours. Warnings: PWP (like literally...), Shibari, Bondage, Master!Kink, Little Kink?, Gun- Kink, Dry Humping (inanimate objects...), Sex Toy? SKSKSK, Humiliation, BDSM, Dirty Talk, Edging, Non-Penatrative Sex, Denied Orgasms, Facial, Masturbation, Videoing/Camera, Seriously filthy stuff for such a short fic Word Count: 2,056 A/N: THIS IDEA HAS BEEN HIDING IN MY NOTES FOR SO LONG

You took in a deep breath, concentrated on the subtle sounds that he tried oh so desperately to hide. Instead of focusing on the rope on your skin, a complicated criss-cross pattern across your chest and around your breasts, curving around to the wrists bound together behind your back, you focused on his footsteps. Counting them, trying to figure out where exactly in the room he was, how close he was to you. You'd listen to whatever he had in his hand, as though it'd hint towards what his next steps would be. Sometimes if he was close enough you'd be able to tell what cologne he was wearing. Today he smelled like pomegranate.

Damn your Master for this blindfold.

As though he could read your mind, you feel Namjoon's hand lift your chin up, forcing your head to tilt up to him, despite the fact it was impossible to make eye contact. You tensed beneath his gentle grip, as though he knew what thoughts of defiance had crossed your mind.

"Color, little one?" he asked, checking up on you.

"Green, Master," you affirmed, craning your neck as you tried to further yourself into his touch.

He let out a hum of approval, a sigh of content that you seemed alright. "I think it's about time we finally fulfilled a certain fantasy of yours, little one." His hands dipped down into your panties, the only article of clothing you were permitted to wear. You shuddered at the feeling, automatically spreading your thighs for him. You could feel his breath on your face as he bent to your level, crouching down whereas you were sitting on your knees.

His fingers grazed over your still swollen clit, noting that you were still very much aroused and wet. You tilted your head back as he ran his fingers along your folds, daring to even gasp as he crooned a finger, curling it inside of you.

"A-Are you going to let me cum this time, Master?"

Namjoon had made you grind against the edge of a table for his own amusement, enjoying how humiliating the act was as he made you bring yourself to the bridge two times, only to deny you your release.

That must mean he had something special up his sleeve for tonight.

"I will, little one. You're going to keep rubbing that pretty pussy against something, though, alright? Think you can be good for Master?"

"Yes, master, I'll be good!" you promised, delighted with the prospect of finally having an orgasm after all of his teasings.

"Such a good little thing for me, aren't you?" He hummed the words, lightly pressing his lips to yours. You attempt to deepen it, leaning into him. However, he reaches behind you, grasping your bound wrists with rope and tugging you back, denying you even the satisfaction of a kiss.

"Don't get greedy," he scolded, tightening his grip slightly as to warn you. "You know what happens to selfish little girls, don't you?"

"Yes, Master. Selfish little girls get punished. And I'd hate to have to bruise that pretty little ass of yours."

You avoided humming at the thought, already fantasizing a bit about Namjoon bending you over his knee to punish you. Still, your keen ears pick up on when he gets up, getting the rope behind you to tie you to something stable that wouldn't give easily, most likely the spot on the floor.

True enough, after he's done tying you and checking your color, you yank a bit on the ropes, adjusting to figure out where it was. Ah, you were where you suspected all along. He hadn't shown you, blindfolding you after you dry humped a table and almost came twice, and then leading you to a clear area of the room to tie you up. There was a small handle that had been screwed into the floor, mainly so he could tie your ropes around it, acting as a leash to keep you in his hold.

"Spread your further legs for me, would you?"

You do your best to spread your thighs as far as you could, giving him plenty of access to your sopping cunt, no doubt that a wet spot had been visible on your panties from the moment you stripped down for him.

"I'm going to place this against your pretty pussy now, and you aren't allowed to move until I tell you, understood?"

"Yes, Master. Green."

You feel something cold and hard against your core, but it's unfamiliar. It didn't feel like any of the toys that the two of you had gotten together. He had mentioned something about fulfilling a long time fantasy of yours. What could it be? You tried to recall what you had told him you wanted to try when you first started BDSM, but then he said the magic words.

"Move."

You experimentally rolled your hips over it, rubbing yourself up and down the object. It was something that wasn't as long as some of your other toys, and you could detect exactly where Namjoon's hand was at the end of it. You continued humping against it, getting some of the slick from your panties onto it, feeling it warm with time as you stimulate your clit.

"Does that feel good, little one?" he inquires.

"So good, Master."

He presses it harder against you. "Faster, then."

You do as he says, rubbing yourself against it faster, feeling your abused clit tingle with pleasure. You whimper, pouting your lips as you felt the build up.

"What is it? Use your big girl words, little."

"C-Can I please cum, soon?"

"No," he says, and at that moment you feel disappointed, almost crushed. He continues, however, "You aren't allowed to cum until I take your blindfold off. Now, did I tell you to stop? Pick up the pace."

You do as you're told, scolding yourself for being so lost in his words that you had frozen in place. Diligently you roll your hips over it again, drawing out a moan as you continued to press against it, your clit firmly pressed against the object as you moved faster.

Your pace becomes a bit more furious, with more aggression at the moment as you feel the build-up towards the orgasm. The pent up emotions and need to cum leave you whimpering. You tug at your bindings, unable to move closer to secure yourself against the object. "M-Master..."

"You gonna cum little one? Are you going to cum for your Master?"

"Yes! Please let me cum..."

"Why should I, hm? Why should I give you what you want?"

"I've been good! Such a good girl for you, Master," you say, your voice a pleading whimper. "Let me cum for you, Master."

"All for me?"

"All for you."

You feel him yank up your blindfold, your eyes squinting as you adjusted to the lights. The first thing you processed were his eyes, blown out with lust. He sneered, using his free hand to grab you by the chin and force it down to point at your chest. "Look," he commanded.

That's when you saw it. The object you had been grinding against all this time had been a gun. The information hit you like a tidal wave, and your toes curled as you whimpered, grinding even harder against it. You didn't even know if it were loaded or not, but you liked the mystery, the possibility that it was. It was among the darkest kinks that you had revealed to your Master, and honestly, the one you had been hoping for the most. So to see it as a reality brought you over the brink.

"Are you gonna cum all over this gun? Bet your little pussy is quivering now, huh? You like being a dirty little and grinding against it?" He leaned in, rasping in your ear. "You don't even know if it's loaded or not, do you? Little sluts like you get off on the thrill, though, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, please let me cum, oh my god." You felt it build up, and you couldn't stop the movement of your hips, your arousal increasing by tenfold at the sight of your little cunt, lips spread even through the panties, gliding along the gun, with Namjoon to help you.

"Can I record you? I want to see you lose yourself."

Ah, that's right. Namjoon had his own personal porn stash of you doing the nastiest shit, from your first time doing shibari and being suspended, to being double stuffed, a dildo in your vagina and Namjoon's dick in your ass. He probably had hundreds of photos of his cum on your face, your dick in his mouth, or you spread eagle, your lips spread with two fingers to display yourself for the camera. He loved to call you his own personal pornstar, and you enjoyed the thought of him jerking off to you even when you weren't around.

"Yes, please. W-Want you to see what a dirty girl I am for you."

"Fuck, that's hot," he says, fishing his phone out to switch to the camera app. It points to you, making sure to include your face and your pussy as you continue to dry hump the weapon. "Are you close, little girl?"

"So close, Master."

"Mm, that's right. Dirty girl will hump anything, won't she? From Master to a gun, isn't that right?"

"M-Master, I'm close, let me c-"

"Cum."

You feel your eyes roll back at his command, and you lose yourself, straining and pulling against the ropes as you ride out your orgasm, feeling bliss spread throughout your limbs as your high overtakes you. Namjoon hisses, capturing all of it on camera, pressing the gun harder against your clit for more stimulation. "That's right, gimme that cum. Look what a mess you're leaving. I may have to make you lick it off."

You moan at the thought, letting your thighs quiver as you roll your head back, breathing heavily. The orgasm was strong, perhaps even more powerful than most you experienced, this one making you shake all over as you drifted off.

"Color, little one?"

Once you seem to settle down, back in reality, you look up to Namjoon with a droopy-eyed look, lips parted as you panted like an animal. "Green. Thank you, Master."

"Your welcome, little girl," he says. "Now, be good for Master and let him cum on your face, will you?"

You nod as he puts the gun down on the table, undoing his belt and whipping himself out. He's hard, the head a pretty shade of red, already covered in precum. You didn't think it was possible, but he was just as affected as you, perhaps even more aroused at the sight of you rutting and getting off on a weapon.

He strokes himself as you tilt your head back, your tongue wagging out as you await his orgasm. Namjoon doesn't tease himself, stroking himself fast, looking at you through the phone screen. Your eyes bore into the camera, lighting up with arousal, eager for his load.

He felt himself cream at that, spurts landing all over your face as he came. You accepted it, closing your eyes and letting him use you for his own needs. He pants, rubbing his hand over your cum-coated face, rubbing it in and spreading it on every inch. It was as though he intended to dehumanize you even further, and you loved it.

Once he was done he tapped against your lips, and you enveloped your mouth around three cum coated fingers, bobbing your head up and down as you looked straight into the camera, making sure your cock sucking lips were in full view as you licked every last drop.

"Fuck, you're perfect," Namjoon said, his voice closer to a growl as he praised you. He popped his fingers out of your mouth, and drool puddled over you. Not as though either of you really cared, though.

You simply smiled, playtime over as he put the phone down to untie you. Once you're free he carries you to the bedroom, beginning the aftercare to soothe you of any rope burns or bruises that would appear in the morning.

"I love you," you confess, the post-orgasmic glow washing over you still.

Your Master simply freezes at the words.

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tiaragqueen · 5 years

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Could you do a scenario where Vincent Phantomhive falls for a shy darling who is good at sword fighting, please?

In A Dither

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Vincent Phantomhive x Reader

✂ Word Count: 2k

✂ Trigger Warnings: Manipulation, yandere theme.

[Edited]

***

That feeling when you have a vague idea about a scenario and it literally disappears at the last minute is just–

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“Cuz you’re my favorite subject. My sweet, submissive subject. My loyal, royal subject.” - You’ll Be Back [Hamilton]

There was something… strange about you.

Vincent realized that once he caught you sneaking glances towards the practice room. It was a subtle movement; one that most people would surely overlook. But Vincent was trained to be observant, both for socializing purpose and for detecting any enemy within the vicinity. He might be known as a courteous gentleman who always spared a minute to exchange pleasantries, yet he wasn’t without his foes. He needed to be alert pretty much at all times, even if he had guards around.

However, you didn’t seem to have done another thing that might warrant suspicion aside from those straying glances. He supposed it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, per se. Who knows, you might be curious about the new environment. After all, you had been working here for a month now. It wouldn’t be weird if you wanted to know the purpose of each room or memorize the locations. The many places inside his manor could be a bit tricky to remember.

Still, positive thinking didn’t ease his interest and slight wariness. In fact, the longer you worked here, the more Vincent began to grow curious with you. Well, looking at your mannerisms alone, there was nothing remarkably intriguing from you as far as he could see. You were shy, sure. He’d met similar people before, mostly from the townspeople who were fortunate enough to talk with him. You rarely spoke up, and if you did, it would come out as mumbles and stammers instead. You were obedient and polite. You never shirked your duties nor did you complain about them. Overall, you were an excellent maid. Though, it should be expected from his workers.

But he certainly never expected you to be able to do sword fighting, either.

The way your black skirt fluttered behind you as it tried to catch up with your rapid movements, the way your usually meek demeanor turned into one of pure concentration, the way the silver sword slashed through the thin air, the way those [h/c] strands of hair clung on to your sweaty forehead, and the way you looked so determined to ward off the invisible enemies. It was unlike anything that he’d ever seen from you before.

The you who he used to think was demure and almost unnoticeable.

The you who always blushed whenever you encountered him.

The you who looked at the practice room with a glint of longing in those droopy eyes of yours.

Although startled, a small smile that graced his handsome features expressed the pleasure and proudness of a father whose child was working hard for something. You seemed to be in your element, he noted; so focused yet… oblivious to your surroundings.

When you finished your ‘training’ with a vicious thrust to the ceiling, Vincent decided that it would be appropriate to announce his presence and satisfaction.

“How graceful.”

You snapped your head towards him and immediately dropped the sword. Vincent grimaced a little when it fell with a clang against the marble floor, the sound ringing in the spacious room. You bowed deeply, almost shamefully, unaware of the displeasure that distorted his controlled visage “F-forgive me, my Lord!” you squeaked, cheeks flushed red in embarrassment and vision blurry from the upcoming tears. “I didn’t… I wasn’t…”

Despite the initial yet short-lived shock of hearing you raise your voice for the first time, Vincent found himself chuckling good-humoredly and strode across the room towards you. It seemed that today, you were determined to surprise him even though he knew it was none of your intentions, to begin with. Though, he couldn’t deny that your shivering figure made you look cuter under his warmyet sharp gaze. “It’s alright, [Name]. No need to be so flustered. There is nothing to be ashamed of.” You flinched when his hand reached out to pat your trembling shoulder. “In fact, I happened to enjoy it very much.”

Blinking in confusion, you inclined your head and sniffled. “Thank you…” you mumbled, unsure of how to respond any further. It wasn’t as though you practiced for the sake of showing off to him. However, his compliment managed to relax your thumping heart somehow. His lowered voice and gentle look helped to that, too.

“How long have you been practicing sword fighting?” he inquired, bending down to retrieve the sword you’d dropped out of the horror of being caught red-handed. “Judging from your movements, I’d say a long time ago.”

“Well, I…” You pursed your lips and played with the hem of your apron. “… When I was a little girl, I used to play sword fighting with my brother. I… didn’t have any friends, to begin with, so he became my first and only friend. He insisted on playing sword fighting with me, and although I’d initially resisted it, I relented.

Somehow, sword fighting became something that I’m fond of. And when I saw a real sword in this house, I’d thought it would be a good idea to try it out. To see whether I could polish my skill. I-I’m sorry for using it without your permission, my Lord.” You immediately apologized in fear of him getting the wrong idea. “I assure you, I have no intention of hurting anyone in this house. Especially not you. I only intend to have some skill to help me protect myself should I’m in some predicament.”

“What a practical outlook,” he remarked, his eyes hardened slightly as he tried to ascertain whether you told the truth or the lie. He didn’t want you to know that he was secretly analyzing you. It would intensify your anxiety even more and, thus, prompting you to be defensive towards his innocent inquiries. Vincent couldn’t study you if you kept stuttering nonsense. “It seems that I have misjudged you. I apologize for that, too.”

You hesitantly nodded, still keeping your gaze on the floor.

“And no, I’m not mad. Really. I was being truthful when I said I enjoyed seeing your training very much.” Vincent smiled softly to further convince you of his sincerity. It was endearing of you to assume he would be angry over such an insignificant matter when you hadn’t even witnessed how he would react to irritation. Not that he would display it, though. There were other, far easier ways to prove his dominance over you than simply yelling around. “I must admit, I was pleasantly surprised to see you here.”

You nervously glanced at him through your eyelashes, worried that he might have demanded your presence and you weren’t there to fulfill his orders. “Were you summoning me, my Lord?” you asked meekly.

“Ah, no. It was a pure coincidence that I passed by this room, and I was grateful for having the opportunity to see your training from up close. If you don’t mind,” he invitingly extended his right hand and smiled cordially. “Would it be possible for us to train together? I could teach you a thing or two regarding sword fighting, and I could be your opponent to test your skill. What do you say, [Name]? Would you accept it?”

You stared down at the palm. At the offer that he so generously gave to you. At the soft smile that gently urged you to just go and comply. Looking back at it, you should’ve known that it was merely a clever ruse to get close to you. You should’ve rejected it. You should’ve been more mindful of your status. You should’ve made up an excuse. But your young self was happy with the prospect of being taught by such an intelligent and skilled man, so you put your hand on his and beamed.

“Yes. Thank you so much, my Lord.”

And indeed, he didn’t disappoint you. Not in the least bit. He was just as skilled as you’d expected, and he was just as intelligent in raising your status from a scullery maid to a personal maid. You didn’t think he even needed one in the first place since the butler had done his job very well. However, Vincent was your master and to disobey him would be a bad decision.

And you’d know it soon enough.

“You’re becoming more and more adept in sword fighting,” he remarked, clapping his hands after you showed him your recent ‘improvement’. “I’m thoroughly impressed.”

“It would be a shame if something were to happen to your first and only friend.”

You stole a glance towards his pleased mien before looking away. “Thank you, my Lord.” you murmured.

“Why… why are you doing this, my Lord? What could you possibly gain from this?”

Vincent held out a hand and lifted you effortlessly from the floor, where it had taken the brunt of your defeat against him. “How about we visit the town? As a reward, you’re free to buy anything you want.”

“Isn’t it obvious already?” He hummed and stared through the window that overlooked an ample garden. “Ah, I suppose it’s not. You can’t comprehend vague things very well, do you? No worries, I’ll be more than happy to reiterate it to you. You’re my beloved maid, after all. You’ve done so much for me. I think it’s time to give you some bonus, no?”

“No. Thank you for the offer, my Lord, but I’m fine. I don’t need anything.” You patted your skirt from the nonexistent dust, ignoring how he was still grasping your hand and the hold that became a bit tighter and tighter with each second passed in weak rejection.

“B-bonus…?”

“Nonsense,” he gripped your intertwined fingers and squeezed them none too gently. “I promised you, didn’t I? And I’m not one to go back on my words, nor do I intend to do so anytime soon.”

Vincent smiled; the very same smile that had enticed you to this predicament in the first place. “I want you to be my maid, and I shall double your compensation.”

“Of course…”

“B-but, what about your butler?”

Vincent simpered, pleased with your immediate compliance. “Go and change your clothes into a more appropriate one. We shall go before noon.”

“He’ll keep working, of course. His duty doesn’t exist merely to serve me, as he has other important things to do.”

You hurriedly nodded and scurried out of the practice room, unable to bear his overwhelming presence any longer. You didn’t know how you could persist to be with him for so long. You didn’t know how your body managed to keep holding on to life around his cold and calculating aura. You didn’t know how you could survive without breaking down in front of him.

“No, I-I can’t. I can’t do that. I’m sorry, but I still reject it.”

Perhaps, this was a price you had to pay for studying under his tutelage. After all, nothing was free in this world.

“Is that so?” Vincent hummed in mock understanding and put a fist under his chin. “I suppose I can’t exactly change your mind, can I?”

Or maybe, this was a price for willingly giving up your freedom to him.

“Don’t you want to raise your family from poverty, [Name]? Surely you’re not cruel enough to abandon them, right? Your… friend won’t be happy to hear this.”

“Oh, and [Name]?”

“My payment is enough.”

You halted on your tracks, patiently waiting for his next order despite the thundering sound of your heart against its ribcage.

“We all know that you can only do so much with the payment of a scullery maid. I doubt that you can even feed your family for a full month.”

“I will be holding a ball next week. I figured I should tell you now, so you can be prepared to be my partner.” Your eyes widened horrifyingly, yet his expression was less than fake pleasantness. “A fitting and beautiful dress, that is what youneed.”

“I…”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and reluctantly nodded. “Yes, my Lord.”

“And what could I possibly gain from this, you may ask? Well, a lot.”

#Yandere kuroshitsuji #Yandere black butler #Yandere vincent #Yandere vincent phantomhive #Yandere vincent x reader #Yandere vincent phantomhive x Reader #Yandere story #Yandere one-shot #Yandere imagine #Yandere scenario #Yandere request #Yandere anime #Anon #Request

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auxiliarydetective · 3 years

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Auxiliary AU - Skeleton Island Part 2

The Three Investigators and Jelena hurry to the auction, which is already in full swing. The painting that they need to save is about to be sold when they reach the auditorium. Justus and Jelena confuse the auctioneer and the entire auditorium enough that the Investigators can make their way to the stage.

In a symbolic act of giving away the spotlight (though unwillingly), Jelena pulled out a pocket knife and handed it over to Justus. “And I’ll prove it”, he then announced climatically. He plunged the blade into the painting, sending the entire auditorium into a state of shock, and cut it open. “You’ve destroyed a masterpiece”, the auctioneer whimpered. Jelena was sure he was about to fall to his knees in shock. “No”, Justus denied. “All I’ve done is destroy a worthless forgery. But the painting underneath…” He put his fingers through the long, horizontal cut and tore the painting apart, revealing a second one that had been concealed behind it. The entire auditorium gasped. Tiny waves of shocked whispers whirled around in the crowd.“A self-portrait by Rembrandt”, Bob announced. “According to the Los Angeles Times, it was reported stolen from this gallery six months ago.” Peter used the stunning effect Justus’s action had had on the security personnel to put away the sword and walk over to the other boys. He looked disappointed. A sword fight could have been so cool. But now it was time for the big revelation. Here we go, Jelena thought to herself, sighing annoyedly. Now the spotlight was all on Justus again. She couldn’t stand his attitude. So, frankly, it didn’t bother her much that he didn’t like hers either. They were equals when it came to intelligence. He hated that. He wanted to be the best. The only best. She had a feeling he was already happily expecting the end of this case and thus the end of their cooperation. His face when he had noticed that he needed her to get into the gallery was still etched into her memory. Here we go, she thought. Go on, Sherlock Jonas-Holmes. “But the ingenious truth is that the painting never left this building. It took a master art forger and master of disguise to pull off this crime: Victor Hugenay.” The entire auditorium was silent and in awe. Only Jelena was completely unimpressed and more than annoyed.“How do you know?”, the auctioneer asked. He had been expecting this question. She could see it in his eyes. The pure enjoyment of having everything go exactly the way he had predicted it. She had only known him for a short while now - aside from seeing him in class - but she already knew she hated it when he got his way. More than anything. “Hugenay has never been able to resist taking credit for his work”, Justus announced while Bob lifted up the droopy cut-out of the top painting. “As always, he has hidden his signature on the forgery.” Bob and Justus underlined the signature with their fingers. It was like this had all been perfectly orchestrated. Or perhaps it was just the fact that the three of them got themselves into trouble together all the time. Perhaps they could finish each other’s sentences effortlessly. She felt so stupid standing there in the aisle all by herself. She felt stupid being there at all. Everyone’s attention was on the three boys now. Terribly annoying. She walked onto the stage and leaned against the podium. This was boring, really. Boring and utterly insulting. Without her, they wouldn’t even be there. They could potentially be very dead. Or slowly starving and dehydrating. Even if they had gotten out of that elevator shaft, they still wouldn’t have had that pocket knife. I wanna see how they would have cut that painting open without it, Jelena thought, smirking to herself lightly. With a sword, maybe? And destroyed the Rembrandt? Pathetic. Ask the final question already so that grandstander can move on.

“Who are you?”, the auctioneer finally asked. “We’re the Three Investiagtors”, Peter answered innocently. To Jelena, he and Bob were the only semi-good things about working with their little agency. But of course, Justus had to have the last word. “Allow me to present our card.” He held out a little, most basic of the basics, black-and-white business card to the auctioneer. It wasn’t even a real business card, just thick white paper with black printer writing on it. They had given one to her too. It was ugly, really. The auctioneer read the card carefully as she looked him over the shoulder. Then he turned around to her. “... And who are you?” Her blood started rushing with pride. This was her moment. She was being recognized. “I’m their assistant”, she immediately lied. The boys looked at her, confused and a bit shocked. “Every good detective needs an assistant, don’t you think?”, she just continued, not bothering to look at them at all. “Then why aren’t you on the card?” Justus wanted to say something, but she cut him off before he could even start. “Did Sherlock Holmes ever credit Watson to be his assistant?” “No, I don’t think he did.” “Exactly, that’s my point. But I’m not Watson. So here I am.”

#die drei ???#die drei fragezeichen #justus jonas #peter shaw #bob andrews #jelena charkova #auxiliary au #fanfiction #skeleton island

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joannevixxon · 4 years

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Love Comes At A Cost

An Elsamaren fanfic by JoanneVixxon on AO3

Summary:

The Fifth Spirit is one of many myths that came to life. And, not all myths are meant to be saviours in times of woe.

Just as Arendelle welcomes Queen Anna into her reign, the Northuldra wade through their newfound freedom under Elsa’s protection. Unbeknownst to them, lurking behind shadows awaits a monster whose anger finds peace in the demise of innocent lives.

[Chapter 1: Anna’s Astute Mind]

Preview: “How ever cold a fortitude of silence Elsa bore, it melted, came undone at the seams, shed its mask of immaculate armour, once Elsa leaned forwards to rest her elbows languidly against the railing, as if to ask for back rubs instead. Like a steed to its master, the Queen of Ice and Snow bowed her head ever so slightly to her Northuldra companion.”

[Chapter 2: This Warmth Has A Name]

Preview: “This warmth. It has a name. Proclaimed at times most opportune. Sometimes it teeters at the edge of one’s lips— nothing more daunting than to have its existence brought center stage. It had always been there in Elsa’s life. Lurking behind curtains when Anna met her closed doors. Burning bright in her mother’s lullabies. It was Elsa’s oldest companion. The hot to her cold. The light to her dark. The quencher of her fears.”

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Chapter 2: This Warmth Has A Name

It all started three weeks before, when Elsa had just turned twenty-six.

Along with Honeymaren, Ryder, Yelena and the others, Elsa celebrated her “sorta-quarter- of-a-century birthday”— as Anna proclaimed it at every seizable opportunity— in Arendelle. A full week and a half whizzed through before anyone could fully revel in Christmas celebrations and solstice festivals. For the first time in forever, Arendelle stood hand in hand with the Northuldra, to ring in the winter season with a Yule Bell that sat atop the castle’s facade.

It flourished into a jubilant eleven days, complete with every variant of chocolate-drenched dessert imaginable— fruits with chocolate fondue, chocolate mousse, chocolate tiered cake, chocolate parfait, you could go on forever. The doors to the Great Hall were kept open for the citizens of Arendelle to dance, savour the taste of scrumptious treats and seek refuge from the crisp winter air. As per Queen Anna’s request, the castle kitchen stocked a hefty supply of lutefisk to keep Elsa’s cravings at bay for another week or two.

Elsa honestly couldn’t have dreamt of a more perfect occasion for which she could spend time with her family and friends, Arendellian and Northuldra alike.

She returned to the Enchanted Forest at night, welcomed at last by the quiet noise of forest critters and sea breeze. Though her body was tangibly there, kissed by the smoke wafting from campfires, Elsa’s mind had remained to saunter through the hustle and bustle of Arendelle’s winter parties. That was, until she realised how pensive Honeymaren had been throughout their journey to Northuldra.

The two had yet to reach the level of intimacy that Elsa and Anna shared. Despite the stark contrast in their characters, the two sisters could detect each other’s disquietude in as much time as it did a whiff of chocolate from the kitchens— in other words, immediately. Aside from a chilly draft whisking into the room, Elsa had the habit of pressing into her palm where her gloves used to cause an itch, arching shoulders, vacillating around any space you’d call a window or a balcony. Anna usually stammered her way into a blabber, biting her bottom lip, flailing her hands and pacing in a spot altogether.

But what about Honeymaren?

Elsa dawdled her way to Honeymaren, who sat quietly on one vacant bought at their usual spot around the campfire, petting the nape of a baby reindeer.

“Is this seat taken?” asked Elsa out of courtesy.

Honeymaren lips curved into a weary smile as she shook her head. Hesitantly, Elsa plopped down beside her.

“Honeymaren,” said Elsa, trying not to sound like an overly concerned parent. She settled with a tone of affability, with just a hint of nonchalance. “Are you okay? You’ve been a bit quiet,”

Honeymaren paused to survey their camp. Young brothers and sisters were plagued with a fit of giggles as they chased one another down on winter-crusted soil. In the large, oddly extravagant shed of ice— courtesy of none other than Elsa— reindeer herders could be seen sharpening their spears and daggers. Nourishing the camp with youthful music were the elders, who were either blowing into fadno flutes or plucking zithers. The night was as lively as it was serene.

“I’m okay. Just tired,” said Honeymaren. “Thanks for asking, Elsa. I appreciate it,”

Elsa tensed at the curt response, as she gently petted the baby reindeer’s hind. Somewhere amidst the reindeer’s soft coos of bliss, she hoped to find a balm to her fluttering heart. “Was Arendelle... a bit too much?” asked Elsa, though her question aimed furtively to the droopy-eyed calf. “I understand if it’s too noisy and colourful and overwhelming—”

“What? N-No, no at all, Elsa,” stuttered Honeymaren. Quickly peering into Elsa’s eyes, she placed a hand on Elsa’s back. “I love coming to Arendelle. The things you do with lingonberries! Who knew they could be tastier than they already are? And those boxes that magically tell you the time—?”

“Clocks...?”

“Clocks! They’re amazing!” Honeymaren let out a chuckle.

Every tendril of muscle in Elsa’s body melted as Honeymaren rubbed her back. Any average citizen of Arendelle wouldn’t dare to come three feet into Elsa’s space, let alone rest a finger upon her cool skin. But, the Northuldra saw physical contact as a means of sharing one’s innermost sentiments, relaying passions upon the slightest brush of one’s shoulder, speaking louder than words, unvarnished and raw.

“I’d go there everyday if I could...” said Honeymaren wistfully before looking away. There it was again. The look of apprehension shot to the ground, as if the hook of a piercing gaze could fish a fickle dream out from the barren soil. “I want to know everything there is about Arendelle... And the world beyond...”

This restless demeanor was anything but foreign to Elsa. She’d seen it countless times in the eyes of a young blonde, trapped on the other side of her mirror. The Forest to Honeymaren was perhaps what queendom was to Elsa in its dying months. A cage with its doors left ajar. A set of chains with its keys jangling by one’s feet. A trap, tattered, loose and unhinged.

The prospect of breaking free from a prison that was once home, was becoming less and less an elaborate fantasy to Honeymaren and more an optional reality.

And it terrified her.

The unknown.

“I should bring you over more often,” said Elsa, before realising what had tumbled out of her lips. “I-I should introduce you to everyone. Give you a tour around the whole kingdom. See my favourite views, my favourite hiking trails...”

“Really?” Honeymaren’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’d do that? For me?”

“Of course,” said Elsa in a daze. “Anywhere you want to go in Arendelle. I’m more than happy to bring you around,”

Honeymaren’s smile stretched from ear to ear. Just as Elsa opened her mouth to ask what had truly ruffled Honeymaren’s feathers, the brunette cradled the baby reindeer in her arms and rose to her feet, never leaving Elsa’s eyes unattended. “I want to show you something,” She cocked her head to the side and extended a hand.

Elsa stood, her hand fastening in Honeymaren’s. For someone who could triumph over her brawn of a brother in a spar, who could hang from a tree upside down, who could hold a baby reindeer then in the crook of one arm, Elsa never found Honeymaren’s hands any less delicate in her clasps. Elsa caressed her thumb over Honeymaren’s, making sure to come off as habitual than deliberate. Sure enough, her skin was just as soft as her touch.

“What is it?” asked Elsa, curiously.

Honeymaren bumped shoulders with Elsa and winked. “You’ll see,”

Fingers intertwined, Elsa let Honeymaren lead her to whatever it was she wanted Elsa to see, stealing glances to the back just in case her snowflakes had stalked them from above.

Elsa was in control. For now.

Into a small clearing, they entered, greeted by the soft amber light of a solitary campfire, on top of which perched a steaming pot of burbling stew. Several wooden shafts neatly lined the outskirts of the area, adjoined by several twines knotted in perfect bows.

Had Yelena decided to bring a semblance of Arendelle’s lamp posts into the forest as decor?

Once Honeymaren drew Elsa to the campfire, she jogged back to the tents to deposit the slumbering baby reindeer. It suddenly struck Elsa that Honeymaren had brought the reindeer along as an excuse to leave Elsa for a moment.

Something was about to happen. Something special. Elsa sensed it. Hoped for it. Wished upon a thousand stars.

Out from the thick blanket of looming shadows, Honeymaren reappeared, with what seemed to be everyone else from the camp. Elsa fidgeted with loose strands of hair as the area flooded with family after family— little boys and girls, mothers and fathers, and elders. All eyes locked on her. With Elsa’s tension palpable from miles away, Honeymaren hastily returned by Elsa’s side with a reassuring smile, clasping one of Elsa’s hands with both of her own. For the first time since fleeing from her coronation ball, Elsa’s heart yearned to burst free from her rib cage.

Could everyone see her tremble? Was she freezing the floor? Was that her snow?

Yelena finally stepped out, wearing the widest grin Elsa had seen from her. She took Elsa’s other hand, as did everyone else with each other’s shoulders, forming a human spiral.

“Elsa,” said Yelena, her deep voice stoic yet tender. “You and your sister have granted our people a freedom we have long abandoned in our prayers. For all the despair that has consumed us for the worst part of thirty-four dark years, you have kindled a flame of hope within our hearts, motivating our people to take steps in mending old wounds, to discover what lies beyond this sacred forest, to unite and thrive together as a community, and to live to our fullest potential. For your undying love to our families, we dedicate a vuelie to you, as a symbol of eternal gratitude,”

In an instant, the camp broke into song— into a vuelie that Elsa hadn’t heard before.

Yet, its lilt was as foreign as it was familiar. Elsa’s magic pulsed through her veins to a rhythm not so different. Its cadence reverberated through Elsa’s bones, lulling her storm of thoughts to the peaceful voice she heard ringing in her ears.

Her mother. Her siren. Her call.

This was a vuelie, specially made for Elsa.

Elsa opened her eyes, to see the forest painted in a blue haze, by the ocean of fireflies buzzing behind barren trees, by the moonlit sky splashed a river of stars, by Bruni’s fire which blazed along the posts and their ropes.

Elsa felt her entire body shrouded in warmth. This warmth. It has a name. Proclaimed at times most opportune. Sometimes it teeters at the edge of one’s lips— nothing more daunting than to have its existence brought center stage. It had always been there in Elsa’s life. Lurking behind curtains when Anna met her closed doors. Burning bright in her mother’s lullabies. It was Elsa’s oldest companion. The hot to her cold. The light to her dark. The quencher of her fears.

Breathing life in as far as it echoed, the vuelie hushed too soon after it began and so did the soft buzz of forest critters. Elsa blinked into space, floating into reverie.

Yelena shot Honeymaren a glance, before turning to look at Elsa again. “Also,” continued Yelena with a smile. “Happy Birthday, Merry Christmas, and have a Happy New Year, Elsa,”

This warmth. It was Love. It swaddled her, as if to celebrate her own being— once Princess of Arendelle, once Queen, now Fifth Spirit, now Elsa in her truest element. Elsa felt loved. For all her beauty and flaws, she was loved.

Years of preserving queenly composure crumbled as tears rolled down Elsa’s cheeks. The entire camp stood dumbfounded in silence.

Yelena seemed like she contemplated a gesture of consolation— a squeeze on Elsa’s shoulder, perhaps. In the end, she simply coughed into a fist. “It was Honeymaren’s idea,”

“H-Hey—” stuttered Honeymaren, panicking as Elsa’s weeps turned to sobs. “Elsa, are you—”

Elsa pulled Honeymaren into a tight embrace, knocking the wind out of Honeymaren’s lungs as their chests collided. They had never been this close, whimpers seeping into Honeymaren’s ears, shoulders trembling against Honeymaren’s chin.

Worrying others for her personal turmoil was a peeve of Elsa’s that stood the test of time. And yet, she prayed for all that she felt bellowing within the confines of her tightening chest to find its way to Honeymaren’s heart. To have the burden of inexplicable pain be carried in companionship, than in solitude. To be taken care of. To be shared. To be understood.

Careful arms wrapped around Elsa. First hesitant, then resolute, Honeymaren rubbed Elsa’s back in a way she knew best— with fondness. Slowly, Elsa’s hug grew limpid. Her sobs lulled to heavy breaths. The weight of her arms rested on Honeymaren’s shoulders.

She felt at ease.

If Decadence made itself the crux of one’s love, it would’ve taken the form of a human being named Honeymaren. She was as sweet as her name suggests. As soothing a balm as honey.

“Thank you, Honey,” mumbled Elsa into Honeymaren’s collar. “ I love… I loved it,”

Yelena snickered, ambling away from the two. “Told you,” she said to another elder in a loud whisper. “If it’s Elsa, ‘Maren’ is never going to be her nickname,”

Elsa pulled away an inch, blushing. “Honeymaren,”

“Yes?” replied Honeymaren, eyes widening.

“I-I meant to say ‘Honeymaren’,” Elsa looked furtively to the crowd around them, voice still cracking. “I don’t know why I said ‘Honey’. Well, I-I mean I do know. I just thought about how sweet you— t-this— was. You can be sweet. You are sweet. Goodness gracious. I didn’t mean—”

“Elsa,” said Honeymaren softly, wiping the tears off of Elsa’s pink cheeks. “You can call me Honey,”

“Oh... Oh, okay,” Sniffling, Elsa threaded her fingers through her blonde hair. “Only... if you want me to...”

“I’d like that very much, Elsa,” Honeymaren stroked Elsa’s knuckles with a thumb, blotting out any certainty Elsa had in the furtiveness of her caresses just moments before. Honeymaren hugged Elsa again. This time tighter. Warmer. “I love… I’d love that very much,”

__________________

Turns out that pot at the centre of the camp had bidos simmering away. It was a Northuldra stew that Elsa took delight in but had mixed feelings for— what with the carrots, potatoes… and reindeer meat. The thought of eating Sven, or the dozens of baby reindeer she coddled every morning with warm hugs and icy fractals, had always hovered above her head when she ate bidos, too nebulous to be tucked away, too vile to be hidden and ignored.

Herding reindeer for sustenance was just something that irked Elsa. Or, perhaps, it wasn’t reindeer herding, but the sad reality that furry creatures live in as both epitomes of cuteness and victims of slaughter. Would she feel the same way about whitefishes used for lutefisk or chickens used for roasts, had she lived this close to her food?

“Onto your second helping?” teased Honeymaren, sitting beside Elsa. She pretended to thoroughly inspect Elsa’s bowl of bidos. “How unlike you,”

Elsa daintily covered her mouth with her fingertips as she swallowed, snapping out of her ponderance. “I like it,” said Elsa with a simper. “I want to… relish in this moment,”

“Oh?” said Honeymaren, intrigued. “And what kind of moment is this for you?”

Elsa’s eyes fluttered closed as she attempted to immerse herself in her five senses. The past year of meditation practices had proved this to be second nature. “I can see everyone having fun, dancing in the moonlight, chatting around the campfire… I can hear the echoes of my vuelie ringing in my ears.... The waft of embers tickling my nose…”

Honeymaren rested her chin on Elsa’s shoulder at this point. Maybe it was sisterly instinct, or better yet, a jolt of courage bestowed by the gods of sympathy themselves. Either way, Elsa found herself stroking Honeymaren’s head.

Elsa figured that fatigue had washed over the brunette, being the mastermind of Elsa’s surprise. Elsa herself had a hand in planning a surprise for Anna’s 19th birthday and that culminated with a snowgie-infested cold.

Surprises were no easy feat.

Elsa felt grateful but guilty, indebted to Honeymaren’s acts of kindness, compelled to repay her with the same sweet type of affection. A strong compulsion then surged into her conscience, coaxing her to try something that she’d seen Anna do to Kristoff time and time again. Gulping, Elsa threaded her fingers through Honeymaren’s thick black hair, and slowly, gently, casually, massaged her scalp.

Honeymaren was pleasantly warm to the touch, like blankets that had been soaked overnight in body heat, or carpet tassels lazed before hearths. As if Honeymaren’s own body had betrayed her adamancy to not respond— not through the weakest of whimpers or the softest of sighs— she grew warmer and languid as Elsa’s fingers leisurely ventured their way from her crown to the spot behind her ear, before finally adding pressure right where her head met her nape.

Her silence was stifling to Elsa. Perhaps, there would’ve been no harm in continuing with a description of this moment. Which human sense was this? Touch? Once a taboo to Elsa. Now, an unspoken language of Elsa’s deepest desires. “The feeling of… your hair… in my hand,”

Honeymaren chose that moment to flinch away, staring intensely at the crowd, whose backs were all that could be seen from their seats. Elsa figured her caresses had truly gone unnoticed this time. Did Honeymaren hate head massages? Did Elsa cross a line? She should’ve asked. She wasn’t thinking through…

“I-I’m sorry,” stammered Elsa, hoping to squeeze some wisdom out of her thick skull as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I shouldn’t have— Not everyone— I’m sorry,”

Something tickled Elsa’s wrist. Looking between her fingers, Elsa found Honeymaren trying to clasp her hand. Her soft grip seemed to say “look at me” and “look away”, all at once.

“Sounds like four senses,” whispered Honeymaren, her hot breath tickling Elsa’s ear. “That leaves taste,”

Elsa’s shoulders arched. “O-Oh… Well... I can taste bidos... lingering on my tongue,”

Honeymaren peered downwards, paying no heed to Elsa’s awkwardness. “I haven’t had the chance to... have a taste,”

Elsa took a deep breath.

One thing she’d learned from Anna and Kristoff was that couples spoke in code, like a cypher of romance. Just that, she didn’t know if Honeymaren had actually meant to use it.

They were merely friends after all.

So, was Honeymaren flirting? Or… Was she asking for a bowl of bidos? Was Elsa supposed to lean forwards and kiss her? Or stand up… and… grab Honeymaren a bowl of bidos?

Should she ask what Honeymaren meant?

That would’ve been pathetic.

An embarrassment.

Time stood still, arms crossed, as Elsa listened to the cacophony of her thousand bickering thoughts. Her silence reeked the scent of docility. It was tempting. Magnetising.

As if their proximity wasn’t all too indicative, Honeymaren inched closer.

Not before long, a strong gust of wind suddenly meandered its way through the crowd, taunting them with a sweep of dust and leaves.

“Mama!”

“Be careful of the fire, sweetheart!”

“What the...?”

“Is that—?”

“It’s winter! The last thing we need is wind!”

“Hush! Do not anger the spirits!”

In a heartbeat, the gust of wind halted before Elsa and Honeymaren, circling in a spot by their feet. Everyone spun around to trail the beast of a breeze, as Elsa and Honeymaren shifted away from each other, putting enough room to fit a reindeer between themselves.

Honeymaren dipped her face into her palms.

“G-Gale?” called Elsa, acutely aware of everyone’s curious stare. The change in mood hit her like a whiplash. “Is that you?”

Gale swivelled around Elsa’s wrist, yanking her by the arm. Stumbling forwards, Elsa found herself falling on all fours, palms digging into dirt.

“Gale? What’s wrong? What happened?” asked Elsa, flicking dirt away from her hands. She could tell how frightened the Wind Spirit was by its frantic whiffs.

The breezy spiral around her arm brought with it some dark liquid. As the embers of the campfire flickered across the soil, Elsa caught sight of a red tinge.

It was blood.

“Water has memory…”

Holding her breath, Elsa blasted a small stream of ice, letting Gale reconstruct a scene they had witnessed. Building layers upon layers, the snow congealed into ice, and the ice crystallised into a sculpture of intricate detail.

The crowd broke into murmurs of fright and confusion.

The sculpture took the form of a Nothuldra man with his back against a boulder. A dagger was unsheathed, perched atop unclenched fists. There was only so much that could be deciphered. But, that figure was as lifeless as it could have been for an ice sculpture.

His hair was unkempt, nose wide, brows thick and chiseled.

Everyone made no mistake in thinking that it was Ryder.

Elsa didn’t dare turn to face Honeymaren.

She shut her eyes and grimaced, bracing for a shriek, a swooning body, a clambering towards the sculpture, as she had done with Anna’s frozen form years ago. Instead, she found Honeymaren seemingly turned into a statue herself, speechless and riveted to the ground.

Elsa felt as if her body was dunked into the depths of Ahtohallan.

“Honeymaren,” called Yelena, squeezing her way out from the crowd. She trotted to the two young women. “Honeymaren. What’s Ryder—“

“The reindeer,” stuttered Honeymaren, her voice suddenly small. “The herd… was missing one or two reindeer. He went to look for them where they were last grazing on lichen,”

Jumping to her feet, Elsa strode to a stream trickling down close by. “Nokk!” called Elsa, voice laced with panic. “Nokk, we have to go! Gale, lead the way,”

Amidst the yelps of awe and shock from the crowd, a vehement neigh echoed throughout the forest and a ferocious water horse emerged with a splash. Gale circling beneath her soles, Elsa mounted Nokk without an inkling of hesitation.

Elsa was about to click her heel when Honeymaren ran towards them with a staff in hand. “Lemme come with you,” said Honeymaren, as a statement rather than a request.

“Honey,” replied Elsa, her heart aching. “It might be dangerous. I—“

“No! Stop!” Honeymaren tugged Elsa by her knee. “He’s the only family I have left! If anything happened to him, I need to see it with my own two eyes. Please.”

Elsa paused as those very eyes filled with hot tears. She’d do the same for Anna. How obtuse must Elsa be to deny Honeymaren this right?

“Okay,” said Elsa, extending a hand. Time was of the essence. “We do this together,”

#frozen 2 #elsamaren #honeyelsa #elsa #honeymaren #frozen 2 fanfic #post-frozen 2 #frozen #disney frozen #frozen fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #my fanfic

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dinoshaur · 6 years

Text

bulletproof

title: bulletproof characters: choi seungcheol x reader genre: romance, drama, crime, hurt/comfort detective!seungcheol warning: swearing, blood, violence (involving guns) words: 1512

There’s an art to being undercover. It is hidden in the curl of lips, the flutter of eyelashes against flushing cheeks. It is woven into witty words, the lies slipping past quick tongues. Being undercover is an art, yes; but not getting caught is a whole other form to master.

Unfortunately for you, the latter seems to have escaped your partner’s memory.

You curse, hands already fumbling to load your gun; if Mingyu had kept his fucking mouth shut, none of this would be happening. The loud yelling and distinct firing of bullets rings in your ears but you remain unfazed. Holding your glock in front of you, you close your eyes - one, two, three! - before dashing out from behind the wall and shooting.

There isn’t time to blink nor is there time to check your surroundings. Your back slams roughly against the back of a crate; this isn’t going to be great protection, but it will have to do for now. It sucks to admit, but being trapped in a tunnel with gang members closing in isn’t exactly giving you high odds of success. You let out a loud exhale, preparing yourself for the worst.

A body drops to rest behind the crate with you, panting with exhaustion and tinged with the slightest of panic. Mingyu’s hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat and, wait- is that blood dripping from his leg?

“How many left?” you whisper as he pops up to let loose a few bullets. There’s a click that sends Mingyu ducking back down.

He discharges the empty clip and pulls out a new one from his back pocket, eyes never settling once. “We’ve taken out three, but there are four more coming at us with semis that don’t seem to be running out of bullets.”

“I don’t know how long we can last,” you say, rising from your crouch to aim at the remaining members that you’ve yet to drop. A body crumples to the ground but it comes at the cost of a bullet whizzing past your face, slicing your cheek and eliciting a hiss of pain. You drop back to your knees and nudge at Mingyu. “I’m running out of ammo and you have a bleeding leg.”

“Well spotted.”

Your scowl goes unnoticed as he leans out the side of the create with his gun firing. Distinctly, you can hear another thump as a body drops to the floor. Now, it’s two versus two. You don’t wait for Mingyu to take his break, instead, you take a stand with your glock aimed at the man before you.

Bang!

Hot fire travels up your left arm, numbness mixing with pain that doesn’t make any fucking sense- what the fuck is- ow, oh my God- and then there’s blood leaking from your shoulder that wasn’t there before. Distracted, you miss the man taking aim.

You don’t quite remember what happens next.

Waking up in the hospital is a new experience for you. There are bright lights, irritating beeping noises, and a sharp ache that sends a groan out your throat. Before you can sit up to better view your surroundings, a hand gently presses you back down against your pillows.

“Seungcheol.”

He hums in your ear, a soft sound that causes your heart to speed up within your chest. You wiggle your fingers, nose scrunching in discomfort at the amount of energy it requires. His own calloused digits lace themselves with yours. Letting out a sigh, you roll your head to its side, blinking open droopy lids to find your favorite face. This feels better already.

“Hey, you.” you murmur, lips twitching as you try to reach out an arm to touch him.

There’s no gummy smile on his face when he stands slightly to put it back into position. Instead, there’s the furrowing of his brows, the gleam of hidden anger in his gaze as he stares at your bandages peeking out from the blanket.

Your stomach dips. “You’re mad at me.”

“Damn right, I’m mad.” Seungcheol scoffs, running his free hand through his dark hair in frustration. “You nearly fucking died.”

“But I didn’t,” you interject. The pain in your shoulder intensifies when you strain to sit up, only to be gently shoved back down once more by a scowling Seungcheol. “Tell me what happened.”

The detective stays silent for a while, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. The quiet starts to get suffocating and your chest feels as though it may burst from the tension. His heel clicks against the tiles as he bounces his leg, a tick he does when he’s nervous or worried. Seungcheol finally looks up, meeting your stare with eyes full of hurt and anger.

“You were shot in the left shoulder and your hip. If Mingyu hadn’t taken that guy out before he did, you would’ve had injuries that are far worse.” his voice is hushed, low and taut from constraining himself. It goes unsaid that you could’ve died in that dark tunnel. You know that Seungcheol wants, more than anything, to yell at you. “The doctors said that you were bleeding out so badly, that there were nerves in your shoulder they weren’t sure they could save. Fortunately for you, your stupid act of bravery didn’t cost you an arm or a leg because they’ve managed to patch you up just fine.”

“It wasn’t stupid-”

“Yes it was!” he grinds out through gritted teeth. Anger flares in the pit of your stomach but you don’t get the chance to interrupt. “You are not bulletproof! You could’ve died out there, you could have lost a fucking limb. Not only was your escape brazen with heroics, but you have failed to maintain your cover in the gang as well. Now, we have two detectives in the hospital while the members of the gang slip away.”

You frown, your other hand clenching into a tight fist at the thought. “You’re mad at me because I blew my cover and let a whole gang go?”

“I’m mad at you because you nearly got yourself killed!”

The silence that falls after the statement is heavy with emotion. I’m sorry, you want to say, but what exactly are you sorry for? Being undercover is never safe, and yet, it is part of the job description. You purse your lips, bite down on your tongue, and leave the words echoing in your head unsaid. Turning your gaze to the ceiling, you let your hand fall limp against his fingers.

You can feel his eyes on your stiff form but you don’t look back, pushing aside the guilt and anger that threatens to fester in your stomach. There’s a sigh, a soft murmur of ‘move over’, before strong arms gently lift you closer to the other side of the tiny hospital bed. You wince at the pain shooting up your shoulder and hip but it quickly fades when you melt against a warm body.

Seungcheol wraps a careful arm around your torso, pulls you closer to his embrace, and lets his cheek rest atop your head. Humming, you listen to the soft beating of his heart, mimicking the rise and fall of his chest. It feels nice. The tension whooshes out from you in a large breath when he presses a kiss to your hairline.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, a hand playing with the tips of your fingers. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the sight. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh I just- I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“I nearly did.”

“I’m sorry,” you crane your neck to look up at him. “I should’ve been more careful.”

His gaze snaps to your scrunched nose. Seungcheol’s mouth twitches, curling upwards slightly when you place a kiss against the square of his jaw. He brings your intertwined fingers to his lips and closes his eyes.

“Promise me that you’ll be safe,” he says against the back of your hand. You shiver at the hot breath ghosting over your fingers, heart fluttering when Seungcheol fixes his stare on you once again. “I can’t lose you.”

“I promise.”

The gummy smile you love finally blooms across his handsome features. “Good, because you’re not bulletproof, no matter how much you wish you were.”

“I’m only bulletproof when I’m with you.” you laugh through the tight squeeze of your hip, leaning against the chest of the man you know you want to marry someday. He tucks your head under his chin after peppering your forehead with kisses. Seungcheol folds your laced fingers on your lap, leaning back against the pillows.

“Only with me?”

You hum, “Only with you.”

The silence that falls this time is comfortable, filled with a tenderness that you are all too familiar with. Before you close your eyes and drift off to sleep, you make a mental reminder to give Kim Mingyu a piece of your mind. Seungcheol squeezes your hand one last time and you knock out in the arms of a detective you love.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen #svt #scoups #choi seungcheol #scoups fanfiction #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #seungcheol fanfiction #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #sha writes

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