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murdershegoat · 4 years

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(inspired by this // on ao3 // ko-fi)

she’s had the voice in her head for as long as she can remember

well, it’s not exactly a voice, more just like a really strong, disembodied feelings that echoes loudly in her head and body. like, it’s not her gut feelings, it’s an outside force and it’s loud and sometimes scary.

so whatever she calls it a voice when she’s explaining it to others.

this voice, it guides her decision making. it’s not an exact science (yet) but if she thinks in her head ‘i’m gonna go get ice-cream’ the voice will either say WARMER or it’ll say COLDER

well, it won’t say it because it’s not a voice. it’s more like this disembodied feeling feels like it’s saying WARMER or COLDER and she’ll physically feel it as well.

if she’s supposed to get ice cream, she’ll feel a sudden warmth

if she’s not supposed to get ice cream, she’ll feel a sudden chill

she doesn’t know why the voice makes the decisions it does, but she has to assume that it’s leading her towards something, towards success or whatever

at the very least, she has to believe that it’s trying to keep her alive. it’s a survival thing. whatever it is, it’s kept her alive for 26 years and counting.

and though it keeps her alive, it doesn’t always save her from pain. the voice tells her kissing veronica sinclair in the horse stables is a warm idea and veronica ended up breaking her heart and humiliated her in front of the whole school.

when she was four, the voice told her to trust lillian. and that’s led to a whole life of pain.

anyway. the voice.

andrea is the first person she tells about it.

they’re hiking in the amazon during spring break. and, as happens sometimes in life, they come to a diverging path and have to choose. left or right. andrea looks at the compass. ‘it’s not working,’ she says. ‘how fucking convenient,’ lena replies. she sighs and steps to the left path.

‘we’re going left,’ she says emphatically as she feels a familiar warmth roll through her. ‘why?’ andrea asks. ‘i just have a feeling.’

only andrea isn’t swayed by ‘just a feeling.’ she demands more and she refuses to go left until lena finally breaks down and explains the voice

(not a voice.)

‘well what happens if we don’t listen to it??’ andrea asks after a barrage of questions, her analytical mind whirring a mile a minute. lena shrugs, ‘i dunno. i’ve never taken the risk of not listening.’

they go left.

they survive the amazon. the voice is always right.

‘you know,’ andrea says, her head resting against the plane window. ‘my nanny used to tell me stories.’ ‘isn’t that what all nannies do?’ ‘she would tell me stories about people having unexplainable powers or whatever, i don’t remember the details… but i remember her saying that the powers always lead people to the thing they need the most. and it could take months or it could take years but it’s a part of your soul, like, intrinsically in you.’

andrea’s xanax kicks in soon after that and she sleeps for the rest of the plane ride home

lena stays awake the whole flight, wondering what these choices are and what this voice is leading her towards.

the voice leads her through the end of high school and it leads her to MIT (fun fact: she’s never felt a firmer COLDER than she had when she held harvard’s acceptance letter in her hand.)

it really helps her in college. sure, she still makes a lot of what she deems voice-sanctioned mistakes (sleeping with veronica sinclair is at the top of that list) but her grades are stellar and she’s on track for getting her second masters and she has a load of friends.

and then her brother goes insane and tries to kill superman. the sky is red and lena stands in lex’s office overlooking downtown metropolis. ‘join me lena,’ he says. ‘help me and we’ll be unstoppable. we’ve always been a strong family but believe me, we’ll run this country together one day, i promise you that. all i need you to do is trust me.’ he holds out his hand

for a second, she considers doing it. she doesn’t want to lose her family. i am going to trust my brother.

the voice says COLDER.

lena listens to the voice. she always listens to the voice.

it’s the first time the voice has made her lose something - someone - as important as lex. it’s the first time she thinks that maybe this voice thing doesn’t know what it’s doing because it’s never hurt her like this before.

the fallout from lex’s breakdown feels cataclysmic. her friends stop speaking to her, her professors stop calling on her in class. she can’t even work at the library without being harassed.

and to top it all off, she becomes the youngest female ceo of a fortune 500 company. which means board meetings and strategy sessions all while writing a thesis.

but meeting jack spheer feels like finding a life raft in the middle of a ferocious ocean, keeping her afloat, letting her catch her breath. he’s cute and he’s funny and well-to-do, and he’s the type of person lena knows she should date and possibly marry.

jack is the second person lena tells about the voice. she’s scared because she isn’t sure he’ll believe her, that he’ll drop her like the rest of her friends have.

but jack, bless his heart, just asks a hundred questions. ‘so even things like which sodas to drink?’ ‘the voice doesn’t let me drink soda.’ ‘whoa.’

jack is the first person who’s not veronica sinclair lena tells her other big secret to. they’ve been out drinking and eventually they stumble back to jack’s place and she feels brazen enough to blurt it out while he makes her a grilled cheese sandwich. she doesn’t even have time to wait for the voice’s opinion; the truth just falls out of her, unable to stay contained any longer.

‘i’m gay,’ lena says. ‘and i understand if you don’t agree with that lifestyle, but i’m still the same person i’ve always been and i would like to remain friends with you.’

‘a person with terrible gaydar apparently,’ jack replies. ‘as the kids say, it takes one to know one. i would’ve told you sooner but… i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner.’ she surges forward and throws her arms around him, hugging him tightly. neither of them lets go.

the grilled cheese burns.

‘should we just get chinese instead?’

the voice says WARMER.

she’s scared of starting over in national city, but the voice in her head seems to think it’s a WARMER sort of idea.

so she packs her bags and jack says goodbye to her at the airport and before she knows it, she’s looking down at NC from her pristine white office. the CVs of two assistants she’s interviewed. ‘i’m going to hire jess chin-salva as my PA,’ she murmurs to herself. ‘WARMER,’ says the voice.

when jess tells her two reporters are at the door, the strapping frame of clark kent isn’t whom she is expecting. she also isn’t expecting kara danvers to follow close behind, kara danvers whose smile is much too bright and friendly to work for a hardened journalist, whose blue eyes twinkle with a kindness lena has seldom been gifted by others, whose biceps are clearly visible through the cardigan she wears.

lena doesn’t have a choice to make, and yet for some reason it screams at her. WARMER. WARMER.

and then it says something new.

WARMEST

the feeling won’t leave lena’s body, and she struggles to focus on the interaction with the journalists, but she thinks she’s managed to tell them the truth. she’s just trying to rebuild her family’s business. she just wants to do good things and make the world a better place. but it’s hard to focus on any of that when her mind and her body feel like they’re on fire.

it only dies down when kara leaves the room, and lena’s pretty sure that there’s something special about that woman.

except maybe there’s just something about the blue eyed women of national city. because later that day lena’s helicopter is shot down and she finds herself being carried to safety by supergirl and the voice goes batshit crazy again.

‘focus on the fact you’re about to die,’ lena tries to tell it, but it doesn’t listen to her. so instead, she doesn’t look away from supergirl’s steady, reassuring gaze until she flies away. and she wonders why supergirl is a ‘WARMEST’.

‘i heard you almost died,’ jack says when he calls her that night. ‘who cares about that?’ she responds, ‘the weirdest thing happened with the voice.’ she tells him of feeling ‘warmest’, of feeling it twice in one day with two different people, of how it refused to go away and occurred without any decisions to make.

‘ok i’m about to share a document with you,’ he says, and lena can hear him typing on his laptop. ‘there, open it.’

it’s a spreadsheet. holy shit.

‘this is every big decision you’ve ever made,’ jack says. ‘there are also some medium sized decisions thrown in, but mostly just the big ones.’ ‘how the hell do you know all this?’ she asks, shocked. ‘why else do you think i’ve been asking you about all this for so long?’ he replies. ‘every time you tell me something the voice says, it’s gone into this spreadsheet. now, i only have limited knowledge of decisions you made before you met me, but i’ve been able to put in a lot of them based on your stories alone. i thought, what better way for you to try and understand this than to put it into words you understand best?’

‘you’re phenomenal,’ lena tells him. ‘i just… i never thought of this. i just assumed it was all some unknowable hippy dippy nonsense.’

‘i mean, it could definitely still be hippy dippy nonsense. but still take a look at it, see if there are any patterns or anything.’

‘i love you, jack.’ ‘too bad i’m gay, huh’

lena sees a lot more of kara and supergirl, though never at the same time. kombucha dates with kara and supergirl swooping in to save her life every now and again. the voice isn’t as overwhelming in their follow up visits, though a pleasant hum of warmth resides low in her being whenever either of them are around.

maybe, lena thinks, it’s not the voice at all. maybe, she thinks, it’s about time she starts dating again.

but none of the women she sees bring the same warmth that kara and supergirl do.

the decision data that jack put together doesn’t seem to make much sense either. but she continues to add to it, bit by bit.

and then something weird happens.

‘you’re getting more potstickers?’ lena laughs. ‘don’t you have any self control?’

‘i’m only human, lena.’

‘i suppose i should believe you.’

COLDER.

COLDER? she’d never gotten a COLDER near kara before. and why? she shouldn’t believe that kara’s human? of course kara’s human! she’s just an awkward, sweet, kind girl from midvale. it��s not like she’s supergirl, for crying out loud!

holy shit

what the fuck

kara’s supergirl?????

kara’s supergirl. it totally makes sense. why hadn’t she seen it before??????? had she been willfully blind to it?

she made a fool out of me, lena thinks. i should hate her. but the voice says COLDER. huh. so hating kara is off the table.

maybe, she thinks, maybe i knew and i didn’t want to admit it to myself. because clearly kara doesn’t want me to know. and i don’t want to push her into telling me because i don’t want to lose her. i can’t lose her. because i lo---

‘i’m so fucked,’ she tells jack over the phone later that night. ‘kara is supergirl and she doesn’t know that i know and i--’ ‘what is it?’ ‘i think i’m in love with her.’ ‘oh my god FINALLY,’ he yells into the phone. ‘i havent even met kara and i knew you were in love with her. you know she’s all you talk about right? like, you run one of the biggest companies in america and you have a disembodied voice that lives in your head and a million other things going on in your life, and the only thing i’ve heard you talk about for months now is kara danvers.’

‘you did not know’

‘i really did. but im glad you know as well because i can finally present you with my biggest theory on The Voice.’

‘not a voice’

‘remind me what it was that andrea’s aunt or nanny or whoever thought it could be?’

‘that was a million years ago,’ lena says; she hasn’t thought about andrea in ages. she should give her a call. ‘i think it was something about… these types of abilities lead a person to thing they need most in the world.’

‘right. i’ve been doing a lot of new age reading and it hasn’t been pleasant at all and i sort of hated every moment of it, but i think i have some idea of what this could be. it’d explain everything.’

‘well then, what is it?’

‘i don’t think it’s the thing you need most in the world,’ jack says. ‘i think it’s the person you need most in this world.’

‘you mean like-’

‘a soulmate. think about it. somehow every decision that voice has gotten you to make has led you to standing in your office in national city where you met kara for the first time. and what did the voice say when you met kara, completely unprompted?’

‘warmest,’ lena whispers.

‘exactly. warmest. as in, as warm as can be. because the whole time, the thing this voice has been leading you towards is kara danvers.’

lena’s plan for handling all of these revelations is drinking herself into a stupor. and it’s truly wonderful for the most part.

that is, until she wakes up with a headache and someone pounding their fist on her front door.

‘wHAT,’ she yells as she throws open the door.

‘do you want to explain the voicemails you left me last night?’

oh shit. lena’s hungover brain processes that it’s in fact kara standing at the door. she ushers kara in and shuts the door behind them.

‘to be honest with you,’ lena says as she puts on a pot of coffee, ‘i think i’m still a bit drunk and i definitely dont remember what those messages said.’

you said you know i’m supergirl. you said you’re not angry at me for lying to you--’

‘oh that’s not so bad’

‘-- and you said you have proof we’re soulmates.’

fuck.

‘do you want to explain yourself?’

‘can i drink my coffee first?’

… kara watches her drink her coffee.

‘okay,’ lena says. i’ll explain but you can’t ask any questions til the end. deal?’ kara nods.

the third person lena tells about the voice is kara danvers.

‘my whole life i’ve had this… this sort of voice in my head. and when i have a decision to make in front of me, it says WARMER or it says COLDER. it’s how i’ve made every choice since i was four years old, from the clothes i picked to the type of coffee i drink to the college i went to.’

‘like intuition.’

‘not intuition. fuck. i shouldnt tell you any of this.’

COLDER.

‘well. guess i should tell you about this.’

WARMER

‘it’s not intuition. it’s not a gut feeling. it’s not a part of me. it’s something bigger and otherworldly and it’s been leading me my whole life to something… i can only assume something much bigger and more important than i am. except i also think that the thing it’s been leading me to is you. and you don’t have to believe me at all, and god, you don’t have to believe in soulmates but… but far out, kara. i’m in love with you. i’m so in love with you it’s insane. and if you don’t feel the same way, i understand, but please don’t shut me out. i can live without you being in love with me, but i don’t think i can live without you in my life anymore.’

they stand in silence, lena’s plea still hanging in the air between them.

‘on krypton,’ kara says softly. ‘there’s only one way to know if somebody’s your soulmate or not.’

‘how do they do it?’ lena asks, imagining a blood test or a swab or something.

instead kara takes a step closer to her and she puts her hands on lena’s hips and she presses their foreheads together and she says ‘do you feel it?’

‘what--’

but she feels it. a sort of calm washing over them both. the air stills and lena swears she can hear kara’s heart beating and she feels serenity like she’s never felt it before.

‘wow,’ kara says, and before she can stop herself, lena kisses her softly, barely. but it’s still a kiss.

and she can’t really describe it, but she feels the voice leave her.

‘i want to kiss you again,’ lena says. but there’s no voice that says warmer or colder. all there is is kara danvers, nodding her head and saying ‘then kiss me.’

lena has many thoughts about soulmates. she thinks if the universe gives you some sort of magical powers, it should also give you an instruction manual for them. she thinks her soulmate is the most perfect soulmate that’s ever been created ever. but this is the real kicker: lena knows that the voice may have led her to kara, but she’s the one who has to make sure she stays there. they have to put in the work together. love isn’t just a magical feeling, it’s building trust and learning to be selfless and letting someone into your life in a multitude of intimate ways. and now that kara’s in her life, in all of her wonderful glory, there’s no way lena will ever let her go.

#supercorp #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #fanfic #my writing

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robotslenderman · 3 years

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Eternal Hearts Liveblog, pt 1

Special thanks to @missn11, who is probably mortified their name is associated with this travesty of a post, for letting me get my filthy little hands on this piece of embarrassing VTM history.

Okay guys, time to do the thing that’s gonna get me cancelled by fifteen-year-olds in the year 2032:

I’m gonna liveblog Eternal Hearts.

I once promised myself I would never make a rape joke, but today I break that vow because even the rape scenes are (sometimes) just that fucking ridiculous that I had to make fun of them.

This book is just.

Guys.

It’s GLORIOUS.

In the first twenty-four pages alone we have:

A guy is confronted by a locked door, so he whips his dick out. Everyone else acts like this is completely normal.

A guy meeting Final Death because a politician sat on his face. RIP in pieces Noah.

A mortal setting herself on fire, waving her arms around and running at a bunch of vampires yelling “DIE, YOU BASTARDS!”

A guy using his dick as a key ring. (Yeah, it’s the locked door guy.)

Lucita given the Hallowe’en treatment, in that she’s covered with sewage -- but sexy!

Daddy kink on top of the Washington monument.

Only some of the above makes sense in context. Some of it is as baffling in context as it is out of context.

This is the funniest shit I’ve ever read. Nobody told me about this when I went in holy shit.

Time to open this sucker up!

Liveblog under the cut!

DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT, THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING. IF YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT ETERNAL HEARTS IS, DO NOT READ THIS LIVEBLOG, HOLY SHIT.

You’re in for a ride, and it’s the edgiest, unsexiest ride ever.

First thing I notice: Eternal Hearts is, in fact, written by a woman. Which may mean that if she wanted to scare the shit out of her female readers, she'd know exactly how to do it.

gulp.

(^ I wrote that back when I thought I was gonna traumatise myself by reading this. OH BOY)

Next bit, the rape book is opened by the following foreword:

What follows is an essay that basically boils down to "no! :D but we wrote it anyway!”

Partway through that is this quote:

We’ll come back to that quote later. Several times, I predict.

Aaaand we open straight into a gang rape scene! Oh joy. And there’s church spires, to make it extra edgy.

Oh but then they give her the Kiss so she enjoys it! Yay!

Oh.

She's a shovelhead.

They never mentioned THIS part of the Sabbat recruitment process.

and now she's underground and buried and being raped again? Somehow. Like somebody’s got their entire goddamn fist in there. While under six feet of dirt. I know someone’s got their entire damn fist in there because the Shovelhead’s thinking about how somebody got their entire goddamn fist in there.

(Yeah this is the bit I had to make jokes about because it was that fucking ridiculous. I started this out trying to be respectful. I failed. Miserably. I just can’t fucking do it this is too -- too -- Eternal Hearts-y.)

Like the author just turned to the other people in the credits page and pitched this idea: “guys. Hear me out. What do you think is scarier than being raped or being buried alive?”

“idk what?”

“being raped after being buried alive!”

“That’s a GREAT idea!”

(”Lucy didn’t even break the rules as much as I was willing to let her” Remember that quote? Thank god for that.)

Jean - for that is our poor Shovelhead's name, RIP - seems only mildly concerned about the rape. and the fact it’s still happening.

Like yeah, serious talk, putting my respectful hat on: to be fair, everyone responds to trauma differently. You know how I respond to trauma? I make jokes about it. Like I’m the kind of person to say “what are you gonna do, STAB ME?” for the lols when a guy is pointing a knife at me.

Okay, respectful hat back off, back to edgy humour.

Anyway she’s being fisted by somebody while also six feet underground, somehow, and daydreaming about the guy she’s stalking and about how she’s in love with him, hmm, maybe he had something to do with it? She’s not entirely sure.

(ETA: So an anonymous Discord friend was reading my liveblog and said this:

and I laughed so hard my dog actually pawed at me because she was worried.

Yeah, I’m going to hell, but at least I know I’m taking you guys with me.)

Anyway she starts digging her way out, and I guess she’s still being fisted while she’s digging her way out???? IDK they didn’t say it stopped??? Like that’s gotta make digging your way out difficult.

And then cut to Lucita!

Walking past a protest outside a sex shop. There’s a bunch of Christian protestors outside because they’re bored or something. We get straight back into rapiness with a Dominate:

Damn Lucita, if jizzing your own brains isn't the hottest image you can give a guy, I don't know how what is.

Lucita decides to snack instead of raping him, but does sexually assault him by taking his dick from his pants and leaving it in his hand when he’s unconscious.

Lucita walks into a meeting at a brothel. There are “slaves”. I’m not sure if they’re sex slaves or if they’re actually ghouls, but then again, this is Eternal Hearts so probably both.

She expects Pieterzoon to be there, but he's not. When the others start talking like he's missing, she is completely unconcerned and immediately starts talking as if she knows he's missing.

They move on. Pieterzoon has paid Lucita to assassinate Marcus Vitel. Good fucking luck with that one. Everyone at the meeting is trying to stop her from doing it. Lucita’s like “tough shit he’s already paid me bitch is gonna die”.

Also the Brujah woman present is apparently this scene’s titillation or something because the author loves to remind us about how tight her clothes are and how she's "seductively cuddling" people.

no fucking kidding

I like how the VTM universe goes out of its way to avoid using the terms “son” and “daughter” to avoid the Unfortunate Implications when people inevitably start fucking their Sires

and the author’s like "nah fuck that let’s daddy kink it up.”

Oh and he does it ON TOP OF THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT!! Like gang rape in a churchyard wasn’t edgy enough I guess.

the author can't go a paragraph without reminding us that sex exists and everyone is utterly sex crazed. The bit I blacked out above? That was Lucita daydreaming about hiring a prostitute. Like that’s not erotica, erotica is arousing, this is just voyeurism.

Lucita apparently hasn't yet noticed she's in a porno.

Somebody makes a joke about the Christian protestors gang raping the prostitutes outside. It’s a Ventrue. Of course it is.

Apparently the slave (I guess the word “ghoul” isn’t sexy enough) in the above screenshot is a fucking senator. Pun not intended. She soothes the cranky Brujah by suggesting they get somebody called Torres deported? I have no idea what that has to do with Lucita assassinating Marcus Vitel, but there's almost certainly going to be fucking involved.

(ETA 23/1/21 -- I regret to inform you all that there wasn’t “fucking” involved so much as gang rape. Never mind.)

Lucita and the Brujah guy almost start stabbing each other (so much for that soothing), but somebody has just set the brothel on fire so they have to GTFO.

The mortal senator can't quite fit inside the escape tunnel because her skirt is huge and keeping it on is apparently more important than not dying of smoke inhalation. But it’s okay, she manages it.

The skirt will be important later, unfortunately.

They come to a locked door in the passage. Oh no, whatever will they do?

Will they take a key out of their pocket and unlock it?

Nah, that’s too fucking sensible.

The Brujah that tried to punch Lucita whips out his dick.

Yes.

He actually fucking does that.

Weird flex, but okay.

(ETA 21/1/21 -- I just realised... what if it’s somebody ELSE’S penis he just whipped out? Like the thing was actually just chilling out and he pulls it out the way somebody else pulls out a cucumber. It’s not attached to his body, it’s just THERE?)

Everyone is completely unfazed by this. Both by the fact he whipped his dick out, and the fact he uses it as a fucking key ring.

Like. Is this a habit of his????? APPARENTLY IT IS.

(ETA: Anonymous Discord friend says:

SDFADLFJASDLFJASDF)

They end up in a sewer.

Garinson keeps a key to a sewer on his dick key ring.

(”Lucy didn’t even break the rules as much as I was willing to let her” yeah I just remembered another place more fitting for a sewer key)

THEN!!!

PLOT TWIST!!

The senator suddenly threatens everyone with a lighter!!

After the kindred are done laughing their ass off, she covers herself in whiskey, sets herself on fire and charges them.

I'm sorry but the way it's worded - pin wheeling, cringing - just makes this the funniest shit. It gets even funnier when you remember they’re knee-deep in water. Ever tried to run in water? It’s. not exactly easy. So presumably she’s tripping and stumbling the entire time and somehow still on fire as she does so.

A kindred tries to escape by clawing his way up the wall. He falls. The senator assassinates him by flinging her skirt over his head and sitting on his face. That part of her is also on fire. The skirt and her thighs are on fire.

And I guess they’re obviously not thigh-deep in water any more ‘cause the poor fuck doesn’t survive this.

what a way to fucking go: death by fire pussy.

Everyone panics, except Lucita, who's like "fuck this", cuts off her head, puts out the corpse, then, uh. uses it as a shield against the remaining flames. as you do.

(Between that and the above screenshot, there’s graphic descriptions of what, exactly, the fire is doing to the senator, and how said senator doesn’t give a flying fuck that fire is kinda hurty because she hates vampires that fucking much.)

Lucita meets a Nosferatu who offers to guide her from the sewers. On the next page, we have an illustration of Lucita, in sewage, looking up at the Nosferatu.

You couldn’t possibly make that picture sexy, could you?

Welp the artist went “Challenge accepted!”

So I wanted to show you guys the picture but I didn’t want to get too banned from Tumblr for an Eternal Hearts liveblog, so I went to my friends for help. One of them, @intimidatethevoid, answered the call to arms:

Well.

This is awkward.

And so she bestowed upon me this glorious, but also cursed, image:

Yeah.

Her shirt’s somehow come off. And she isn’t wearing any knickers. Hence the Filthy Frank sticker.

And that’s gonna wrap up part 1 of my Eternal Hearts liveblog!

For more, like this post in secret shame so that none of your followers have to see it. To cancel me, send angry anon messages and death threats to my inbox.

#Dusty liveblogs #Eternal Hearts #VTM #rape CW #Eternal Hearts CW #DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT oh my god I can't even #I'm going to regret posting this I just know it but I HAD to #eternal hearts liveblog

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apothe-scary · 3 years

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LEVI GOLDSTEIN THE VAMPIRE, FACTS MASTERPOST

Any time i have new facts ill add them here!!!

Levis physical facts

Levi is two thousand years and some change old!

He ages EXTREMELY slowly. Though bitten at age 19, he now looks 21-23 years of age at this point in his life.

Levi is six feet tall

As cute as levi is, he makes the most HORRIFIC facial expressions sometimes. Eyes a little too wide, smile too big, showing too many teeth and too much gum. Creepy smiles Bug eyed looks and wrinkled noses. He doesnt mean too, but he forgets what he looks like sometimes.

Levi is blind in one eye if you haven’t noticed! He lost it in a fight! A sword fight!

Has a really fucking weird accent i wont even attempt to write but will try to at least describe

Personal facts about levi

No one believes hes a real vampire

Loves bloody steak

Loves animals

Loves kids

Loves all things occult

Levis is old, very very old, he’s two-thousand and some change. So he can bypass some of the things younger vampires cant. He can daywalk for a few hours without protection BUT all day with protection ie: sun hat or umbrella. He can turn into mist and bats and a wolf creature. He can have his head cut off and still live. He can regenerate limbs. But things that still get him are the laws of hospitality. He must be invited, he must treat his guests with respect and feed them, water them, ya know treat them well.

Pouts when he cant go outside to look at the pretty flowers because he forgot/got it stollen his hat/umbrella.

Levi LOVES dogs! He gets one any chance he has and has an extensive record of every dog hes ever owned. When levi and svetza go out, levi is the buffer for dogs. Dogs seem to dislike svetza on some level she can not fathom. (Or some dogs at least) Dogs however flock to levi in droves and become instant babies in his presence.

Levi sleeps in a large four poster coffin bed. Its a queen sized bed shaped like a coffin with four posters, heavy light blocking curtains, and its very cozy!

Levi has family. Lots and lots of family. Hes kept a record of his entire family. He knows everyone and sends them letters and gifts on hollidays. Everyone in the family knows about levi but not exactly who and what he is and what hes about. Hes just that one really weirdly supportive uncle /cousin that shows up to familyreunions. Like the family isnt even sure how they are related but they know they are. He keeps track of marriages and births and deaths. Anytime anyone if the family needs to know their genealogy they ask weird cousin/uncle levi. Only a few memebers of the family know what he is really. Others know but dont believe. Some suspect and the others joke about it. Levis home (an old castle) is filled with family photos and such. It just fills me with joy to imagine that instead of mourning the fact that everyone you love dies while you live on as a vampire, he just sees it as an opportunity to keep track of his family and history! He even takes in family memebers when they need a place to stay. So its not uncommon for him to have random members of his super extended family living with him.

Garlic also isnt a deterrent. Garlic is just...stinky. Really really stinky. But he likes the stinky.

hes always cool to the touch so he LOVES warm stuff. Hand warmers, sunny days, warm rocks, warm people, hot drinks or foods.

But his favorite days are sunless because then he can go out without a hat and umbrella!

Levi is extra about his fashion! He wears all sorts of fashion, the man is two thousand years old and has CHOICES! Levi really loves the grungy garage punk and jock with crop top n booty shorts looks. At home he wears booty shorts and crop tops to lounge in. Sleeps in a night shirt thats really just an oversized tshirt dress he got at a thrift shop. He will wear a dress. He gives zero fucks.

Levi loves kitchy vampire shit! Novels, Movies, games, costume, Decorations, ect! He ADORES THEM! He thinks its fun and creative and likes all the lore people come up with! They even get facts right sometimes!

Levi is a dinosaur. Hes only just now gotten used to using a dial phone. Let alone a cellphone. Help him. He still uses a rotary phone for gods sake

Levi owns several properties he rents out to people. Its where he makes most of his money.

Levis birth certificate year has to be refreshed every thirty years to stay current. But all the other facts stay the same. Parents, where he was born etc. He knows people who can make him new proper legal documents so he can fly under the radar.

Levis Religious facts

Holy items dont work on him at all! Especially crosses because “Oh yes, a jewish man hung on a torture device would be PLEASED to see them used to symbolize peace and love. And then bless it as a holy item.” Like get real, its a torture device, a symbol of death and malicious intent and not a holy symbol. (To him)

He doesn’t consider himself evil or unholy. So that has some impact on why the items don’t work.

The boy sports a star of david all the time because...jewish.

He also reads his torah and other holy books like a good boy.

Levis professional medical facts

He drinks peoples blood to find out what ails them! Then perscribes them the proper medicine!

being a medical professional he convinces people to donate blood! He uses half of them for his patients.

Levi is able to smell girls on their periods but politely says NOTHING

Levi runs several small medical clinics/apothecary shops where he hires local medical practitioners as employees. (They deal with all the new fangled fancy equipment)

Levis personal medical facts

Levi is two thousand years and some change old!

Also as he is a medical professional he knows hes being rediculous but he doesn’t care. Levi takes iron pills because of his iron deficiency from his vampirism. But he hates taking the horse pills so he Makes bloodshakes with red fruits or veggies to hide the fact hes drinking blood and everyone just assumes its red for the ✨ aesthetic ✨

Direct sunlight after a few hours gives him a WICKED sunburn

Blood transfusions work as well. He actually keeps half of all blood transfusions for himself!

Levi is blind in one eye! He lost it in a sword-fight! Why it hasn’t regenerated is beyond him.

Levi au facts

Ouran highschool Host club

Ok but levi being in the host club would be kinda perfect for him. Hes a goofy, sweet, caring, drama loving, tall (six feet is tallish) pretty, twink boy. Hed fit right in.

People refer to levi as the vampire prince. He isnt sure why but it seems to make them happy so he just lets it be.

Loves occult stuff

Loves kids

Levi is on iron pills for his iron deficiency. But Levi refusing to take his iron pills because they are HORSE PILLS (aka huge af) He hates taking the horse pills so his friend crush them up and put them in his bloodshakes, blood pudding and sausage for him to eat/drink.

His friends know damn well he can swallow his pills (though he insists he can not) because they have seen him jokingly deep throat bananas and swallow hotdogs whole. But they just roll with it and crush them into his food and drink.

Levi Makes bloodshakes with red fruits or veggies to hide the fact hes drinking blood and everyone just assumes its red for the ✨ aesthetic ✨

Blood transfusions are also be a thing he does in rare extreme cases

Levi is a dinosaur. Despite only being 19. Hes only just now gotten used to using a dial phone. Let alone a cellphone. Help him. He still uses a rotary phone for gods sake

Levi sleeps in a large four poster coffin bed. Its a queen sized bed shaped like a coffin with four posters, heavy light blocking curtains, and its very cozy!

Levi lives with family friends who live in a castle!

Loves bloody steaks

Also cant be in direct sunlight for long due to also having sun sickness, so he wears a big hat and carries an umbrella all the time.

Pouts when he cant go outside to look at the pretty flowers because he forgot/got it stollen his hat/umbrella.

No one believes hes a real vampire

#levi facts #vampire oc #levi goldstein #THIS IS NOT ABOUT LEVI FROM SNK #THIS IS ABOUT MY JEWISH VAMPIRE OC #long post #Facts masterpost #levi facts masterpost #masterpost

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honiboyyoon · 5 years

Text

The CEO’s Son (M)

Your relationship with your boss’ son was never one HR would approve of...

Pairings: Jungkook x reader

Word Count: almost 4k

Warnings: smut, dont let someone talk to you like this at your work, jungkook having a size kink

A/N: LITHEN rayan wrote a jungkook size kink blurb and lotte kook came for my fucking throat and im not sorry!!!! reni get the four loko,,, bete.., i inked

When you first landed this internship, you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. The internship was actually well paying, incredibly insightful to your field once you graduated university, and you would even go as far as to say-although incredibly nerdy of you- it was very fun. Overall this internship at Jeon Enterprises was a dream come true. It was almost too good to be true, and that’s because it was. The bane of your existence as of late was your boss’ overly flirtatious, pompous, and ridiculously attractive son. Jeon Jungkook. With his stupid shaggy hair, God you simutanilousy wanted to run your hands through it to sniff it but also shave it off his stupid head. Then there was his stupid face, and his stupid body. You didn’t think a guy in a suit could affect you as much as it did, but here you are, ogling him from your desk as he’s stopped at the water cooler. As if sensing your stare, Jungkook turns his head and you two briefly make eye contact before you redirected your gaze to your computer screen. Yes, pretend like you’re doing work, he definitely didn’t catch you staring at him. As if he could hear your thoughts, Jungkook saunters over to you with a shit eating smirk plastered onto his face. I would give up my employee discount to slap that right off you think to yourself.

“How do you get any work done when your staring at me all day, baby?” Jungkook coos, he’s leaning against your cubicle divider, and his crossed arms are pulling his already tight fitting shirt more taught against his muscles.

“How do you have so much money, yet still can’t find a shirt that’s actually your size?” Your tone is falsely sweet but it has Jungkook grinning wider.

“Y’been staring at my bod that much to notice huh, Y/N?” This is your relationship with your CEO’s shit head son. He flirts, you sass and flirt back, you go home insanely sexually frustrated, rinse and repeat.

Your thoughts are interrupted by one of your supervisors reminding everyone of a meeting in five minutes. Everyone around you slowly shuffles to the meeting room down the hall, and you get up from your chair and begin your way towards the boardroom when you hear a low whistle, “damn, have I ever told you that that’s my favourite skirt on you? Your ass looks amazing, babe” Jungkook is still resting against your cubicle, chin poised on the palm of his hand. Of course he didn’t have to go to the meeting, he was the CEO’s son.

“In your dreams” you’d be lying if you said your heart did beat a little faster when these exchanges occurred.

“Oh but we do!” he mockingly groans and grips harder onto your cubicle wall, “at least four or five times a night!”

You only answer back with a scoff and a shake of your head as you make your way down the hall.

Once the meeting has begun, your supervisor informs the interns that those that are the most promising and likely to be hired on once graduated, will be given more work, to better prepare them for what life is really like and Jeon Enterprises. After a few grumbles your supervisor assigns days to each one of you, stating that you will work a sort of “over-time”, to get you used to times of the year where the typical 9-5 just simply isn’t enough hours in the day. You’re assigned Tuesday nights, and will begin tonight. Forcing a smile on your face as you accept your that your plans tonight are now ruined, you thank your supervisor for the opportunity. It’s not until you’re walking back to your desk do you realize that you in fact, did not actually have plans anyways, you never really do, but the option to make plans is always nice to have.

As you near your desk you notice Jungkook is poised against your cubicle wall again, as if he never left.

“Are you stalking me now, Jeon?” You tut, a smirk finding itself on your lips without you even realizing it.

“Just wanted to make sure your seat was clean,” he pulls your chair back for you as if he’s an actual gentleman, as you sit down in it he comes around to the front of you and sits on the edge of your desk, “and this one of course.” He circles his face with his hand.

“Well, it’s good to know you at least recognize the importance of giving good oral when you have the world’s smallest dick.” You turn to your computer before you can see the dark look that flashes through Jungkook’s eyes. He leans down closer to your ear and quietly says, “oh, you have no idea.” And with that Jeon Jungkook leaves you with a tingling ear and damp panties.

It’s about ten minutes later when you hear a ping and see a message bar show up on the corner of your screen. Clicking the flashing bar, your heart does a little flip as once you see who the message is from.

Jeon Jungkook

8=========D

“What the fuck?” you chuckle under your breath, hands already typing a reply on their own accord.

Y/N L/N

Did you just send me a dick pic??

Y/N L/N

As an emoticon?

Jeon Jungkook

Big isn’t? ;)

He’s lost his fucking mind, you think to yourself. This is hilarious, but Jungkook has actually lost his mind.

Y/N L/N

I had to increase my screen zoom to see it, but its cute ig

After hitting send, you hear a dramatic “Ha!” from the direction of Jungkook’s desk before you hear another ping.

Jeon Jungkook

Remember that im the supervisor thats overseeing you on your overtime nights ;)

You didn’t, infact, remember that. But now you’re rubbing your thighs against each other trying to relieve some strain as your imagination begins to run wild of what it’d be like to be the only two people in the office.

Y/N L/N

fuck you

Jeon Jungkook

thats the plan baby

Oh my God.

Your relationship at the office has always been one HR wouldn’t approve of, you two always took things most would consider “too far” but it never lead to anything. You said shit like this to each other all the time, but this afternoon felt different. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it but something told you tonight may finally be the night you don’t have to go home and touch yourself thinking of your boss’ shit head son.

Two hours later, it was finally the end of the day and everyone was packing up to head home for the evening. Some of the other interns give you looks of pity before they leave, but you don’t feel an ounce of dread about having to stay late. Your mind keeps wandering to that stupid conversation with stupid Jungkook. You guys were always talking to each other like this, but now it felt different, and you couldn’t help the butterflies that started abusing your stomach.

It’s now half an hour since everyone’s gone home and you’ve continued to work through the extra load given to you for tonight, when suddenly a familiar ping sounds again. You subconsciously squeeze your thighs together when you read the message from none other than Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook

Come to the board room

You didn’t know what was louder, the squeak escaping your lips or your desk chair being pushed back as you abruptly stand up. You don’t dwell on that too much as you quickly make your way to the board room. You try to calm yourself down, you and Jungkook heavily flirted all the time, his dumbass probably broke the screen in the meeting room or something, yea, yea that’s it. Just because your last conversation was a bit more heated than usual and ended with him saying he wanted to fuck you, didn’t mean he was about to plow you in the board room. You slow your walk as you get a few steps before the closed door. Quickly running your fingers through your hair to tame any stray hairs, you glance over your clothes before taking a deep breath, hand clutching the door handle. After a brief pep talk, you’re pushing through the door to find Jungkook sitting at the board table seemingly working on something on his laptop. As soon as you enter, he stops typing and leans back in his chair as that devilish smirk appears on his face again.

“Close the door behind you,” holy shit this was really happening, you were really about to fuck Jeon Jungkook, and in the office of all places. “Lock the door behind you” he’s racking his eyes up and down your figure, when they finally reach your eyes he says barely above a whisper, “only if you want to, that is.” Oh, holy shit. This was him giving you a way out, to get a sense of whether this was more than just back and forth flirting and banter, to see if you really wanted him.

With a speed you didn’t know you possessed, you locked the door behind you without breaking eye contact. Jungkook stands up from his chair and gestures for you to come closer, as you do you can feel a blush already heating up your cheeks.

“I’m surprised you wanted to have sex with me,” his voice is still a quiet whisper, and his hands are now at your waist, pulling you closer until you can feel the beginnings of his arousal through his pants, “y’know, with me having such a small dick and all.”

“Well…” lord, girl get it together, you’ve been dreaming about this since you started your internship, “that may be true, so I thought I should see how your much your oral makes up for it.”

He crushes his lips to yours before you have a chance to say anything else. The kiss is rough and hurried, clearly the several months long sexual frustration was mutual. He spins you around and grinds his hard on against your ass. You can’t help the few whimpers that escape you as he starts to suck at your neck, “gotta mark you up nice, huh baby? Can’t have anyone in the office trying to take what’s mine.” You shake your head in agreement as Jungkook pushes you forward so your hands are against the table and your ass is bent up, the sight has him groaning. No one’s ever really manhandled you like this, and it’s gotten you more worked up than you thought it would’ve.

“Fuck, I really do love this skirt on you, but I really want to see what’s underneath more.” Jungkook stops his aggressive groping to push your skirt up around your waist and you quickly dispose of your blouse and bra. Bending down, he places open mouth kisses along your ass cheek, as his hand continues to roughly grope the other one. The unoccupied hand is now rubbing you through your panties, and you feel like your about to loose it from all this pent up frustration.

“Please, Jungkook.” You beg, your voice already sounding strained and whiney.

“Please what baby? You need to tell me what you want,” you gasp as he applies even more pressure, “use your words.”

“I want your f-fingers, and your mouth. I want you to eat me out.” Your practically panting, and Jungkook’s erection is now painfully pushing against the fabric of his pants after hearing and seeing you so submissive, so different from your normally sassy attitude, and it make Jungkook want to wreck you. You only hear a low chuckle from Jungkook before one of his fingers is pushing past your underwear and straight into your wet heat. He doesn’t start off slow, he immediately starts to quickly finger you, your arousal already starts to drip down his hand as he harshly sucks on your clit.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” Jungkook coos, licking up your folds, “I guess since my dick is so small you only need one finger, huh?”

Before you can protest, Jungkook removes his finger from your pussy and begins to pull you back up so you’re now chest to chest. He runs his thumb along your bottom lip, and without having to be told you open your mouth and begin to suck on the digit. Jungkook chuckles at your submissiveness and switches his thumb out for the finger he used to finger you. He stares with such intensity at his finger disappearing behind your lips, that it only make you suck faster, harder.

“I really want to fuck your stupid little bratty mouth,” he’s almost mumbling to himself, but you continue sucking on his finger, this time he speaks louder, more controlled, “but I really just want to fuck your bratty little pussy already.” You’re furiously nodding your head, as he retracts his finger form your mouth. He’s roughly kissing you again, as he grabs underneath your thighs and sits you on the table. Your hands are roaming over each other, although his are much more dominating. He’s grabbing your hand and placing it over his clothed erection, and your mouth waters from the sheer size of his bulge. Jungkook, of course, notices this immediately and with great pleasure.

“What, not big enough for you, baby?” He’s taunting you because he knows he’s big, he’s fucking huge, and you can’t move your hands fast enough to unzip his pants. Jungkook’s hands are turning your hair into a makeshift ponytail when you pull his underwear down and his hard on practically smacks you in the face. Oh, holy shit. You never would have thought you would use this word to describe a dick, but Jeon Jungkook has a monster cock. You don’t have much time to dwell on this thought before Jungkook is tapping the tip of his dick against your cheek, and you’re now just realizing that your mouth had been agape since you first had your hand over his crotch.

“On second thought,” Jungkook tightens your hair in his hand, “I really do want to fuck this pretty mouth.” You manage out a whimper before he’s guiding his cock into your open mouth. You’re swallowing around his cock, trying to take him all in, but you’re only about half way down and there’s an obscene amount of spit seeping out of your mouth, and you’re about to run out of air. You pull away from his cock, desperately trying to fill your lungs, and you notice a trail of saliva connecting your mouth to the angry red head of his cock. Jungkook catches the trail as well, and he’s darkly huffs out a laugh as he grabs his dick to tap against your face again, “what? Can’t take it you stupid little brat?”

The degrading catches you a bit off guard and has you pouting back, “‘m not stupid.”

“Huh?” He taps his cock a bit harder against your cheek, “What was that baby I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“I’m not stupid!” You huff, your lips are spit slicked and pouting and your eyes are almost adorable when they look up at him. God he can’t wait to wreck you.

“Of course you’re not stupid baby,” Jungkook probably should’ve asked you want your kinks were beforehand, but he takes note that degradtion probably isn’t on that list for you, at least not yet. “You’re not stupid, no. You just can’t take my cock.” If you didn’t want him to fuck you so badly you would’ve smacked the shit eating grin right off his face, but you’re shaking your head furiously at him. “No, please fuck me Jungkook, please. I promise I can take it, I promise.” Jungkook could’ve blew his load just from finally hearing you be so submissive towards him after months of attitude. He kisses you again and he guides you to lay back on the table, hand guiding the tip of his dick to your heat. He doesn’t enter, just simply rubs the tip against your clit and you feel like you could explode.

“Think you can handle it, baby?” he whispers in your ear, and a quiet uh huh is his green light to enter you. All the dominating behaviour aside, Jungkook, much to your happiness, actually enters you slowly. He enters inch by inch, allowing your aching pussy time to adjust to his massive size. When he’s fully inside you, you both let out a pant and Jungkook waits for you to give him a signal to move. Although you teased him about having a small dick, you never really thought Jungkook did, but you never would’ve dreamed he was hiding a fucking python under his designer dress pants.

After a few moments, you feel relatively adjusted to his size. If you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t think you could ever fully adjust. But, nonetheless, you breathe out a soft move and bite Jungkook’s ear lobe. You both groan as he slowly pulls out, nearly all the way. He sets a moderate pace at first, and although your grateful due to his size, you’re honestly a bit surprised he isn’t rougher with you. As if sensing this, Jungkook smirks down at you, “need to get you a bit more adjusted, baby, can’t have me accidentally ripping you in half huh?” and that has you moaning out as he hoists your legs up higher and he plows into you. Honestly, you really do think he could rip you in half.

Your moans are pornographic as he fucks into you with such speed and power your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. His chiseled muscular body is glistening so beautifully under the fluorescent office lights that you don’t even wonder when his shirt came off, but fuck you’re happy that it did. Your transfixed watching his ab muscles move as he fucks you. You don’t really know where to look, he’s just so hot. His shaggy sweaty hair dangling in front of his eyes, his half lidded eyes watching your tits bounce every time he fucks into you, his slightly parted mouth that occasional lets out a guttural moan. You’ve never felt so full in your life, and he’s just so hot and you just need more. When you voice this, Jungkook just smirks and wraps his arms around your legs to keep them parallel to his chest, and he’s fucking into you even harder.

“Fuuuck, your pussy’s so tight and wet for me baby, shit you’re hot.” Jungkook pants, and when his eyes drift down from watching your tits bouncing, that’s when he notices it. With every thrust, Jungkook can see a little bump come from the inside of your lower abdomen, and something inside him snaps. He’s fucking into you even harder now, and you’re nearly crying at how animalistic he’s being.

“Fuck baby, look at you. Your little pussy can barely take my cock, look at it sticking up inside of you.” He thrusts a little extra hard to really make his dick protrude and you’re nearly seeing stars. You couldn’t believe it. Jungkook was actually so big that his cock would poke up your belly. You’re nearly gushing around him at the revelation, and Jungkook just keeps fucking you nice and hard, his hips a rough stactoo against yours. He’s groaning and panting while he watches the bump come up with every thrust. “Shit baby, look at you, your bratty little pussy can barely handle my cock, it has no room for it. I bet you love my fat cock don’t you, baby? Huh?” His hand reaches forward to slap your bouncing tit, “You fucking love my huge dick don’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, I love your fat cock Jungkookie, please fuck me with your fat cock, I love it so much!” Your screaming, and you honestly don’t care if the late night office cleaners can hear you.

“Tell me how much you love it baby, c’mon, tell me how much you need my huge dick, tell me how big it is”

You don’t know if he’s being this rough because of your earlier comments about him having a small dick, or if it’s because he can visibly see that your pussy can barely handle the size of him but you don’t care either way. “It’s so fucking big Jungkook, you’re stretching me out so fucking good, baby oh my gosh.” You feel like you’re about to cum any minute now, and when you voice this Jungkook pulls out of you and flips you so your hands are on the table once again. You nearly scream when he enters you again, the pace just as brutal. His hands are now roughly gripping your ass cheeks, the occasional blow being delivered to them. He’s panting into your ear telling you how much a good girl you are for taking his cock so well, how he bets you won’t ever say his dick is small again, how he’s going to ruin your tight little pussy every Tuesday night in this board room. “You’re not going to be able to listen to a single thing they say during these meetings, your just going to be thinking about my huge cocking stretching you open.” You slip a hand down to play with your clit as Jungkook continues his assault on your pussy. You’re so close to almost hurts. “C’mon baby, show me what you look like when you cum, I wanna hear you” He delivers another smack to your now cherry red ass, “cum all over my huge cock, baby, c’mon.” A few more powerful thrusts and you’re coming harder than you ever had in your life. Jungkook follows quickly behind you, unloading onto your ass, moaning at the erotic sight.

You think you might’ve black out in all honesty, but the next thing you know, Jungkook is wiping his cum off your ass with a tissue and gathers you in your arms. Looking down at his now soft dick, you nearly laugh at the fact that, even when soft, Jungkook is above average size. Apparently you said that out loud, because now Jungkook is laughing as he hands you your clothes. You see him tuck your panties into his pocket and when you question it, he casually replies with, “you’ll just have to get them back next Tuesday.”

You definitely love this internship.

#LOTTE JUNGKOOK MAN #IM DEAD #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fan fic #bts fanfiction #jungkook smut #jungkook fan fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jeonguk x reader #jeonguk smut #my writing

4K notes · View notes

kinglazrus · 4 years

Text

A Helping Hand

Phic phight 2020

Submitted by @trainernick: Lancer telling Danny he knows his secret and admitting trying to help him throughout high school (maybe at prom or graduation) - wholesome found family

Summary: Everyone says prom is supposed to be one of the best nights of Danny's life. And even though he wrecks his suit, ditches his date, and gets attacked by Skulker, it sort of is. But not for the reasons everyone says it should be.

When Lancer sees his student feeling low, he does what he can to make sure Danny knows there are always people rooting for him.

Hurt/comfort

Word count: 3923

People like to talk about milestones. They divide their lives into neat little segments and mark the years with special occasions. First steps, first words, first day of school, first car, first kiss, first job. Lots of firsts. They're important. But they aren't the be-all, end-all of those experiences. People keep talking after their first word. They keep walking after their first steps. They continue to learn, and drive, and kiss—if they're into that sort of thing—and work, and work, and work until that's all they ever do.

The firsts matter, but they don't matter so much that you can never do any of those things ever again.

Some milestones can't be repeated, though. Or, at least, people build them up so much and make such a big deal out of it that even if you can repeat it, it'll never be the same. They make it sound like if you do it wrong then you'll never get to do it right. That's how Danny feels about prom.

It doesn't matter how often he tells people there will be other parties, that this won't be the only time he ever dances with his peers, that this won't even be his only prom because he probably won't be able to graduate this year. Prom is big. Prom is important. Prom is special. He has to do it right or else he'll never get to do it again.

Danny tries his best.

He gets a date, one of his best friends, Sam. It takes him a few weeks to ask her out, because he can't figure out how to do it. He wastes hours writing out what he wants to say. Four days before prom, he sees Sam in the middle of a ghost fight, grinning like mad, hoisting a bazooka on her shoulder, ectoplasm stuck in her hair, and Danny blurts the question out right there because holy shit she's beautiful. It totally throws all his careful, romantic planning out the window, but she still says yes.

He gets a suit. Black jacket, black shirt, purple vest, purple tie, because he thinks Sam will like it. She calls him a dork as soon as she sees him in it, which means she does like it, very much so. He gets a corsage of blue poppies for Sam's wrist, to go with his boutonniere. He gets Jazz and Dani to watch the city for the night so that nothing will distract him from the dance.

He does everything he can to make sure he does prom right. But, in the end, he still gets in a ghost fight.

Danny leans his head back against the wall of the shower stall in the boys' locker rooms. His lungs burn, his body aches, and his knuckles are bruised. The water's turned up as hot as it can go. It succeeds in getting the worst ectoplasm out—cold water would have set the stains—but now he's completely soaked, and his suit is still ripped.

Looking down, he catalogues the damage, both to his body and his rental suit. A gash on his right shoulder to go with the torn seam of the sleeve. The left sleeve is ripped from cuff to elbow, his cufflink lost somewhere on the street outside. There's a matching slice in his arm, stretching from his palm around to the outside of his elbow.

The cut stings in the hot water, same with the wound on his shoulder, and he should probably take care of both before he loses too much blood. But he has a couple minutes to spare.

His pants got out of the fight okay, minutes a little tearing on the knees, the skin beneath scraped and red. He doesn't think the store is going to take the suit back.

There's a knock on the stall door and Danny lifts his head. Through the foggy glass, he sees Tucker.

"You good, man?" Tucker asks.

Danny swallows, glad he doesn't taste blood. Skulker really held nothing back today. He calls back, "Yeah, I'm good. Suit's a little torn, though."

"Why'd you fight in your suit?" Tucker asks, a hint of laughter in his voice.

"I think Skulker borrowed some of Vlad's tech. He shorted out my powers for a little bit, but," Danny raises his hand and forms a swirling ball of ectoplasm in his palm, "they're back now."

"Okay. Lancer's doing a headcount. I told him you had gone to the bathroom just before Skulker showed up, so I'll let him know you're safe."

"Thanks. I won't be long."

Tucker's silhouette does finger guns and he clicks his tongue twice, then leaves. Danny waits until he hears the locker room door closing before he stands up. The ectoplasm in his hand turns blue, its temperature dropping a few degrees, and he drags his palm along the cut on his left arm. Ice seeps over the wound, sealing it shut and stopping the bleeding. It also works fantastically at numbing the entire limb so it doesn't hurt to move.

After rotating his arm a few times, testing its mobility, he does the same to the gash on his right shoulder. It's only a temporary measure, until he can get home and get Jazz to help stitch him back up. Sam and Tucker used to be in charge of doing that, but Jazz is by far the better seamstress, and leaves fewer scars behind.

Danny shuts the water off and heads toward the lockers. Rather than going for his own locker, he stops in front of Tucker's. Danny usually has extra clothes for emergencies like this, but he used them last week and hadn't brought them back since. Tucker keeps a few spares, though, because of the last few times Dash and Kwan stole his clothes while he was in the shower.

Turning his hand intangible, Danny sticks it through the locker door and grabs a shirt from the top shelf. When he pulls his hand out the shirt unfurls, and he stiffens.

"You've got to be kidding me," he says. It's a black button-up shirt, which is perfect. But it's also covered cartoonish pictures of Danny Phantom's face. Reaching back into the locker, he tries to find another, but this is the only one. He could use his gym shirt, but he needs the long sleeves to hide his left arm.

With a groan, Danny strips, laying his jacket, vest, tie, and shirt out on the benches. He and Tucker are around the same size, so the shirt fits, for the most part. It's a little tight across the shoulders and bites into his skin when he bends his arms, but it'll do. As long as he doesn't get into another fight and tear this shirt up, too.

Danny pulls his jacket and vest back on, although he does neither up, and drapes his shirt across his arm. With his left hand facing down, you can't even he's injured. Minus the scrapes on his knees, but if anyone asks, Danny will just say he tripped running away from the ghost

When he exits the locker room, Danny looks left and right, checking to make sure the hallway is clear before slipping out. His wet shoes squeak on the floor, and water drips from his hair onto his nose. He probably should have tried drying off. Especially since the water from his jacket is now seeping into Tucker's shirt. But, Fentons are stubborn, and Danny's already on his way back to the gym.

Prom posters featuring smiling members of the dance committee stair down at him as he walks, silently judging him. Their blank eyes follow his every move. Somehow, Danny feels like he's failed them.

He expects the dance to be back in full swing by the time he makes it back, because Casper High is just like that sometimes, but he couldn't be more wrong. The music has stopped. No one's dancing. There's a massive hole in the outside wall, letting in the cool night air. A wave of shame rolls through Danny as he remembers he did that.

His gaze drifts up to the ceiling, where there's another, smaller hole. That's where Skulker burst through, shouting about the glory of capturing his prey on such a momentous occasion. Seconds later, Danny blasted him through the wall and took off after him. Without even a single glance back at the chaos he'd caused.

Paulina, Star, and other members of the dance committee hustled about, directing people to help with the cleanup so they could get things started again. City protocol said to wait for an official cleanup crew, but this was prom, damn it, and Paulina wasn't about to let a couple ghosts ruin her chances of getting crowned queen.

He finds Sam and Tucker quickly. They're helping Elliott move one of the larger chunks of concrete. The front of Sam's dress is covered in dust and her corsage it crushed.

Another wave of guilt pushes Danny out the door. He backs into the hallway, gives the ruined dance one last look, then turns and heads for the front door. There's no point sticking around and risk ruining things even more.

The cold air and his wet clothes shill Danny to the bone when he gets outside, but he doesn't mind. The benefits of having an ice core means he can weather the cold better than most people. But, being half-human still, he's not infallible. Danny sits down on the front steps, slipping his hands into his pockets, and sighs. Maybe he should just go home.

Since Danny doesn't have his license—he never had time, with all the ghost fighting—Tucker gave Sam and Danny a ride. So, if he does leave, he won't be abandoning Sam without a way home. Going for a fly sounds pretty nice right now. There's not much he can screw up when he's miles above the city. Although, if anyone could find a way, it would be him.

The only thing he can ever seem to do right is fight ghosts. It's not too late to make a career out of it. At this point, it's basically his job already, and it'd be nice to get paid for it. Maybe the G.I.W. are hiring.

Danny laughs. It's a bitter, self-deprecating sound.

"They'd probably cut me open first," he tells the open air.

"Modern Prometheus, Mr. Fenton, that's quite the accusation."

"Holy sh–" Danny jumps, nearly toppling off the step, and whips around to see Lancer behind him. "Mr. Lancer! Uh, what are you doing here?"

"Checking on my student," Lancer says. "I wasn't satisfied with Mr. Foley's assurances and wanted to make sure you were safe myself."

He steps forward and looks down at Danny, frowning. "Are you... dripping, Mr. Fenton?"

"Uh." Danny glances down at his soaked clothes. "I fell in a puddle."

"While you were in the bathroom?"

"I went for a walk and then fell in a puddle."

"It hasn't rained in three weeks," Lancer says.

"So crazy, right?" Danny chuckles. He silently wills Lancer to go away, preferring to be alone right now. Instead, Lancer does the complete opposite and sits down next to Danny.

"Is something bothering you?" he asks.

"What makes you think that?"

"I've worked with teenagers for a long time, Mr. Fenton. I can tell when things aren't okay. And I think, by now, your tells are somewhat obvious to me."

Danny refuses to meet Lancer's gaze. He's probably the last person Danny wants to see right now. Not because he hates Lancer, but because he cares too much what Lancer thinks. While he didn't like the man much during freshman year, things changed over time. Lancer started actually believing in Danny. He's the only teacher who never gave up on him, who always had their door open.

Lancer even leant Danny his ear on more than one occasion. Danny tried to avoid this as much as possible, but there were some things he just couldn't talk to his sister or friends about. And Danny's willing to admit, although somewhat grudgingly, that he's become attached to his English teacher.

"Prom's ruined," Danny finally says.

"Is that so?"

"I mean, yeah. Sk– uh, that big metal ghost dude kind of crashed the party. And then Phantom fucked it all up."

"Language," Lancer says. He gives Danny a critical look. "Why are you blaming Phantom?"

"He kind of destroyed a whole wall. He could have just, I don't know, thrown the ghost back through the hole that was already there?" If only Danny had thought of that at the time. But in his desperation to not ruin prom, he went ahead and ruined prom.

"I think Phantom did a fantastic job," Lancer says.

Danny gapes at him.

"Yes, the wall was damaged, but no one got hurt. And your classmates are displaying wonderful teamwork skills by clearing out the debris so the dance can go on. It wasn't Phantom's fault the ghost decided to interrupt," Lancer says. "Although I have to say, it's extremely lucky of us that he was so close by. In fact, it was almost like he was there before the ghost arrived."

Lancer smiles. Something about it puts Danny on edge. It's a familiar smile, a fond one. It's the smile he gives students who do exceptionally well. It's the smile he gives Danny when he does well.

"Oh, yeah. That's really lucky, yep. Must be because of how often the school gets attacked. I mean, if I were him, which I'm not, I'd probably hang around the place that gets attacked the most, too," Danny says, a little too quickly. He was cold seconds ago, but now he's uncomfortably warm.

"Which you're not," Lancer repeats slowly. His gaze is intense and critical. Danny can only bear to meet it for a few seconds before he has to look away.

He tries to distract himself, looking at the cars lined up along the street. There are a few limousines amongst them. Danny would bet his ghost half on one of them being here for the A-listers', who came together as a group rather than bringing dates. There were so many cars already parked by the time Danny and his friends got here that Tucker was forced to park his old Camaro around the block.

It's a pretty nice car, despite how old it is. A hand-me-down from Tucker's dad, they fixed it up together, making it good as new. Danny tries to picture doing something like that with his own dad. Jack would probably deck the car out in ghost weapons and stamp the word "Fenton" across it.

They could call it the Fentonmobile.

"Danny," Lancer says.

The use of his nickname gives Danny pause. Lancer never calls him Danny. It's one of his most frustrating traits. Every student is always Mr., Ms., or Mx. As annoying as it is, Danny can't deny that it feels nice at the same time. Like Lancer actually respects them as people, doesn't look down on them the way most adults do.

After everything Danny's been through, he thinks he warrants a little basic decency.

Lancer continues. "I know."

Everything stops. Every thought in Danny's head comes to a screeching halt. He stares at Lancer. Maybe he heard it wrong. Maybe he doesn't mean what Danny thinks he means. But the longer Danny stares, the longer Lancer stares right back. At first, dread fills him. His secret is blown. This is it. The G.I.W. are on their way.

That dread quickly drowns in a tidal wave of relief, because Lancer knows. And he isn't hurting Danny, or calling him a freak, or doing anything.

"You know," Danny repeats in a breathy whisper.

"I know."

Danny slops backward, burying his hands in his hair. He lets out a soft laugh. "You know. How long?"

"Almost three years now," Lancer says.

Danny's stunned into silence. Three years. That's nearly as long as he's been a ghost. He had his accident a couple months into freshman year and started fighting ghosts a few days after that.

"I," he pauses, "am a terrible liar. Aren't I?"

"I'm surprised you've lasted this long," Lancer says.

Danny laughs sharply. Sitting back up, he turns to face Lancer proper, running his hands through his hair again. It's a nervous habit he's never been able to kick. "What gave it away?"

"Your first weeks at Casper High, I thought you were a talented student with a lot of potential. You managed average grades on your first couple of assignments, but I could tell you were struggling in the environment. Not a fan of classroom learning?" Lancer asks, quirking his eyebrow.

"It's hard to focus. Sometimes," Danny admits.

"But you managed. And then you disappeared from school for two weeks. When you came back, your grades plummeted. I blamed it on the stress of your accident, at first, which I excused. But then your delinquent behaviour started."

Danny winces. He knows exactly how he looks to other people. A problem child, skipping school, not doing his assignments, barely studying. Coming to class with bruises on his knuckles. Tetslaff tried to "set him straight" once. She said some good physical activity would help him channel his issues and convinced his parents to sign him up for volleyball.

Tetslaff kicked him off the team after his third missed game.

"To me, my students are my children. I want to see them succeed in every way they can, and do what I can to make that happen. In that way, I failed you freshman year. I'm ashamed of how I reacted." Lancer pauses. He looks away from Danny, tipping his head back to search the sky instead.

Danny wonders what he's thinking. He wishes he knew.

"I'm even more ashamed of the fact that if I hadn't seen you transform, I might not have changed my attitude at all."

"You saw me transform," Danny deadpans. First Jazz, and then Paulina—although she was possessed at time, Danny still counts it—and now Lancer. How many times is this going to happen? He asks, "Where?"

"Here, at school."

Danny sputters in disbelief. "What?"

"You were in the middle of the cafeteria, Danny. You stood on a table and cried 'I'm going ghost.' I'm surprised more people didn't see you," Lancer says. He shoots Danny an amused grin.

Danny blushes, burying his face in his hands. "I thought it was cool," he mumbles into his palms. It made him feel like a superhero. Until he wizened up and stopped shouting out warnings to every ghost within earshot.

Lancer had a point, how did people not see him more often? Maybe there's an entire cult in Amity Park of people who have seen Danny transform. They could call themselves the Phentons. Or the Fantoms. Or the Keepers of the Great One. Frostbite would probably like that last name.

"Why are you telling me this now?" Danny asks.

"Because I think you need to know there are people on the sidelines who are willing to help you, who have helped you, even if you don't realize it."

"How do you mean?" Danny already knows he has people looking out for him. Jazz, Tucker, and Sam always have his back and they've helped him more than he can ever thank them for. He's going to miss Sam and Tucker next year when they move on to college and he's stuck repeated senior year.

Lancer reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, he smooths it out on his knee and passes over.

It’s a schedule for April, May, and the first week of June. Two dates are circled. April 18th, today, and June 4th, the graduation day. The weeks between are full of markings. Squinting at the thin writing, Danny reads "Packet One: Biology" written over next week. Skipping over the rest of the schedule, he finds "Packet Two: History," "Packet Three: Applied Math," all the way up to "Packet Six: English" the final week before June. They're all classes Danny is taking this year, including ones he already failed last semester.

"What is this?" Danny asks.

"A study guide, of sorts. I spoke to the other teachers about your grades. Because of 'special circumstances,'" Lancer makes finger quotes, "they agreed to give you a chance to redeem your grades. You did well on your exams overall, but it's your course work that failed you. Each of your teachers has put together a packet of bonus assignments that, if you finish successfully, will earn you a passing grade in each class."

Danny's breath hitches. "You mean..."

"With any luck, I will not be seeing you again in these halls next year."

Danny's eyes burn. He lowers his head, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow. He tries to stay quiet, because the last thing he wants to do is cry in front of a teacher, but he can't help it. The tears won't stop. A few gross sobs fight their way through his hiccups. Lancer rubs Danny's back as he cries, a soothing gesture.

"Thank you," Danny says, as soon as he can gather the breath for it. He wipes his nose on his sleeve and shoots Lancer an elated grin. "I hope I don't see you here next year either."

Lancer smiles in return. "We could head back, if you'd like. The dance should be starting up again right about now. Ms. Sanchez certainly knows how to whip a cleaning crew into action. I never expected such leadership from her."

"I did kind of ditch Sam," Danny says. He hopes she's not too mad. "But I kind of need to take care of something first."

"The ghost? I always did wonder what you did with them after capturing them in your... lunchbox?"

Danny laughs and shakes his head. "It's a thermos. But, no, he'll be fine in there for a while. I actually, uh," he trails off. Sheepishly, he pulls back his left sleeve and shows Lancer his injury.

"The English Patient, Mr. Fenton, you need medical attention!" Lancer shoots to his feet, digging his phone out of his pocket.

"No hospital!" Danny shouts. He scrambles up after Lancer and covers his phone. "My body's different. They'd notice something. I just need some stitches and my healing will take care of the rest."

"That's reassuring, I suppose." Lancer lowers his phone. "I have keys to the nurse's office, and I'm no slouch with a needle."

"Oh. I can just take of it myself, at home. Or get Jazz to do it."

"Nonsense, Mr. Fenton. What kind of teacher would I be if I let you go home in that state?" Lancer beckons for Danny to follow. He only hesitates for a second before complying.

Danny doesn't want to see Lancer in these halls again, but he certainly hopes graduation won't be the last time he ever sees the man. It's nice, knowing there's another person out there who has his back. Someone who can give him a stern word when he's being stupid, and a helping hand when he's lost. It's almost father-like, now that Danny thinks about it.

He stares at Lancer's back and thinks. Lancer looks the kids of Casper High and sees them not just as students, but as his children. Danny doesn't mind looking back and seeing a parent instead of a teacher.

#phic phight #phic phight 2020 #danny phantom fanfiction #danny phantom #phanfic #hurt/comfort #cross-posted on ao3 #tumblroneshots

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365days365movies · 3 years

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February 22, 2021: Pillow Talk (1959)(Part 1)

Y’know, I actually do like Doris Day.

She’s funny, she’s talented, and she’s a timeless beauty that I remember very well. TOO well. You guys ever have that one thing that your parents crammed down your throat SO MUCH that you got sick of it? Well, that’s what my Mom did with The Thrill of it All.

Which is, for the record, a cute movie, and one worth watching again at some point. But I’m gonna ease my way into that with Doris Day and Rock Hudson’s first movie, 1959′s Pillow Talk.

However, while I’m not stranger to Doris Day, I’m afraid that I don’t know too much about Rock Hudson from experience. Well, there is one interesting tidbit about him: Hudson was one of the biggest stars of the ‘50s and ‘60s, and his career continued up until his death in 1985...from AIDS-related complications.

Yeah, Rock Hudson was one of the biggest gay celebrities in Hollywood, although he never publicly came out. However, it was somewhat of an open secret in the community at large, and basically all of his female co-stars know about it.

And said secret was revealed posthumously, after his tragic death during the height of the AIDS crisis. He was by far one of the most high-profile deaths during this time period, and you’d think that would’ve caused more waves about the AIDS-crisis, considering that he was good friends with...well...another actor.

Yeaaaaaaaaah, not gonna get into Reagan and ALL OF THAT SHIT here. This here is a movie blog, not a political blog! But, uh, yeah, a LOT of fucked-up shit about Reagan and the AIDS crisis, obviously, and part of it was Rock Hudson. So, yeah, it’s something that I wanted to address before we got into this whole shindig.

Because, again, I’ve never seen a Rock Hudson movie, but dude was a pretty huge deal, and this was a part of his life that I felt it unfair not to at least acknowledge. SO, with that out of the way, let’s have a little Pillow Talk. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

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We start with that might be one of my favorite opening sequences so far this month, which you can see above. From there, Jan Morrow (Doris Day) wakes up, humming the theme song from the credits, which is clever, considering that she sang it! Talented lady, seriously.

Jan wakes up and goes to the phone, intending to make a call. However, this is where we get a pretty stark cultural difference, and a needed history lesson for some of us, me included. See, Jan’s phone line is actually a party line, seen through this neat little visual edit.

See, this is what’s called a “party line”. From the 1870s onwards, there was a shortage of available phone lines. By the time you get to the ‘60s, more and more people had personal phones in their households, but without enough lines to go around. And so, some people were forced to share their phone lines with others, hence the party line system!

Here’s the thing, though: if somebody was on the line already, anyone else on that line could hear the conversation of other people. Which is exactly what’s pissing of Jan right now, as she needs to make a call, but the line is being used by her party line partner, songwriter Brad Allen, who’s serenading his girlfriend (?) Eileen (Valerie Allen). Not sure that they’re actually dating, but Eileen definitely wants to.

After Jan’s insistence, they get off the phone, and Jan’s able to begin her busy morning at last. Well...almost. Brad’s now talking to Yvette (Jacqueline Beer), and she wants him to sing HER song to her, which is LITERALLY just the Eileen song with a different name and in French! Which is...hilarious. It’s very funny, not gonna lie.

Once again, Jan tells him to get off the party line, and hangs up angrily. She leaves just as her cleaner woman, Alma (Thelma Ritter) arrives, fresh off of a hangover. Jan goes to try and get a line of her own, and the manager, Mr. Conrad (Hayden Rorke) makes a WEIRDLY sexist comment about jumping to the top of the list if she were pregnant. Which, yeah...weird.

Anyway, Jan, in her frustration, tells Mr. Conrad that she’s hired of sharing the line by a “sex maniac.” Mr. Conrad asks for specifics, and is AGAIN WEIRDLY SEXIST ABOUT IT. He asks if his dalliances with other women disturb her in particular. But yeah, he also says that if he is indeed a “sex maniac,” they may need to disconnect him altogether. Which has...uncomfortable undertones all on its own, but whatever, moving on.

On her way to work, Jan’s friend Jonathan Forbes (Tony Randall) shows up to bring her a STRAIGHT-UP CAR, holy shit! He’s doing so to thank her for decorating his offices (she’s an interior decorator, he’s a car dealership owner, so...fair exchange?). She insists that it’s too personal, which confuses him, as it isn’t perfume or lingerie.

But, uh, dude? IT’S A WHOLE-ASS CAR!!! Look, I’m with her on this one, don’t just give me a fuckin’ car out of the blue! I don’t care what the reason is, tell me that shit first! And Jonathan is CLEARLY trying to make it just a little more personal, if you get my meaning.

Jan finally arrives at her office, owned by Mr. Pierot (Marcel Dalio), and she tells him that an inspector has been sent to look after Mr. Allen. This inspector is Miss Dickenson (Karen Norris), and being of the wimmins, is immediately entranced by the apparently irresistible Mr. Allen, sabotaging any attempt at inspection.

The next morning, the inspector’s report comes through, and Miss Dickinson has of course cleared him of all charges. He calls her, and the two clash in a way that definitely means they’ll never, ever, ever fall in love, no sir, not these two, not a CHANCE IN HELL

They agree to make a schedule for using the phone, and Brad accuses Jan of being jealous of his free-wheeling, bed-hopping lifestyle, which she takes great offese to. But after they hang up, she thinks on the idea of having bedroom problems. Looks like Jonathan wants to fix that, on account of being the THIRSTIEST MAN ALIVE.

Dude has three three ex-wives, all of which were revolts against his mother, for which he’s seeing a psychiatrist.

...CHRIST, the man’s a walking-talking red flag. Jan also says that she doesn’t love him, like...AT THE FUCK ALL, and the man just straight-up says, “How do you know, we’ve never even kissed.” Ai which point, any normal person would see the phantom neckbeard and whip out the fuckin’ bear mace, but Jan just lets him lean in for the goddamn kiss!!!

Jan...standards, Jan. My God. Anyway, she still turns him down, he asks her to get married again, and she leaves. For God’s sakes, man. Anyway, she goes home, where Alma’s listening to Brad serenade a girl over the party line. Jan notes the time, and tells him to get off the line. He calls back, and tells her off.

Brad gets a visitor: his old college friend FUCKIN’ JONATHAN AGAIN. He bemoans being a millionaire (po’ babyyyyy), then reveals that he’s pining over Jan, whom he doesn’t know is the person on the party line with Brad. He hears a good amount of information about Jan from Jonathan.

After the conversation, Brad tries to somewhat reconcile with Jan, but she doesn’t have any interest in doing so. That night, the two have separate affairs. Brad meets up with a woman named Marie, and serenades her with the same goddamn song from earlier, that suave motherfucker. Dude flips a switch, and the door fuckin’ LOCKS! Jesus, state-of-the-art hook-up tech of 1959.

Meanwhile Jan is attending a dinner held by an extremely client, Mrs. Walters (Lee Patrick). Needing to get home, she has her son Tony (Nick Adams) give her a ride. But on the way home, they stop and WHAT THE FUCK TONY??? I actually can’t find a clip or GIF of this, so I’ll tell you...he is ALL THE FUCK OVER HER, and it’s GROSS. CAN WE PLEASE STOP SEMI-RAPING DORIS DAY? WHAT THE FUCK, IN NO WAY IS WHAT I JUST WATCHED OK, HOLY SHIT!!!!!

Like...wow, that was the most uncomfortable I’ve felt watching a movie in a WHILE. And it’s not even because of the act itself, it’s because of how...OK it feels in the context of the film. Jan is BARELY upset by this slimy little weasely-faced rapey CREEP LITERALLY ASSAULTING HER IN THE FUCKING CAR. And in case you were wondering, yes! This film was written by FOUR MEN.

This is gross. Sorry, but this whole sequence is gross, and it gets even LONGER, because she AGREES TO GO GET A DRINK WITH HIM. WHY, JAN? STOP ENCOURAGING THIS BEHAVIOR. He tries to get her drunk (but ends up drunk himself), but she tries to leave. However, who should be sitting one table but Brad, who realizes who this is. Jan tries to leave, but Tony tries to get her to dance with him, AND SHE ONCE AGAIN AGREES, JAAAAAAAAN!!!!!!!

And its during this time of distress for Brad that, OF COURSE, he finds himself extremely attracted to her. And since he knows who she is, but she doesn’t know him, he decides to fake his identity. And there we go, we’ve got a creepy-ass one-sided relationship set-up.

Meanwhile, lightweight Tony passes out on the floor, drunk as shit. Brad goes into help, putting on a take Texas accent and calling himself Rex Stetson. And OF FUCKING COURSE, she’s lost in his fuckin’ eyes. Damn those eyes, and his suave bullshit.

They shove Tony into a cab, then take his car, which appears to be too small for Brad, which makes sense, given the fact that Hudson was 6′4″, goddamn! The two take a cab, and the two reveal their mutual attraction to the audience, through their inner thoughts. Looks like all Jan needed for a relationship was handsome-ass Rock Hudson.

In her thoughts, she thinks on how honest and down-to-earth Rex Stetson seems, unlike “monsters” like Tony and Brad Allen. And OF COURSE this is how we get this started. OF GODDAMN COURSE this is how we start this relationship. Liar revealed, LIAR REVEALED, I FUCKIN’ HATE THAT GODDAMN TROPE SO MUCH

Soon after “Rex” takes her home, he goes home herself, and gives her a call, inviting her to dinner the following night. She accepts. Then, in the middle of the call, Brad pretends to pick up the line as himself, in order to set up the two identities as being separate...this is reverse You’ve Got Mail, isn’t it?

Think about it. Two people that hate each other, and they’ve never seen one another, but also love each other after meeting in person. IT’S THE OPPOSITE OF YOU’VE GOT MAIL. Ugh. Fine. Even down to the fact that he has a sizeable advantage over her, due to his full knowledge of the situation. He even tries to use his identity as Brad Allen to set-up their date the next night for success.

And it works, goddamn. A clever yet manipulative asshole, this dude is. They get on a horse and carriage, and we hear the inner thoughts of Jan, Brad, and the dude who owns the horse. And, yeah...it’s funny. The two go to dinner, where Jonathan shortly arrives. Brad gets him out of there with...mildly fatphobic means, but it is the 1950s, so things were just kinda...entirely that.

But in any case, Brad gets away with it, and he and Jan spend a hell of a lot of time together going all around the city. And the whole time, he’s playing the role of “Rex.” Ugh. This is a good halfway point, so let’s go to Part 2 here! See you there!

#pillow talk #michael gordon #rock hudson #doris day #tony randall #thelma ritter #nick adams #romance february #user365 #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #my gifs #mygifs #silverscreendames #old hollywood

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musicprincess1990 · 4 years

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Questions About Sherlolly

I was tagged, several days ago (sorry), by @mychakk, and... well, I had a bit too much fun with this. A few of them ran off and dragged me with them, so... yeah, these are more ficlets than headcanons.

Also, I want to tag @writingwife-83, @kietzemaze, @thisisartbylexie, @lilsherlockian1975, and @hobbitsdoitbetter. 😘

1. Coffee shop AU: Who is the barista, and who frequents the coffee shop?

This one always gives me Uni!lock vibes. Molly is the fresh-faced, ever cheerful barista, and Sherlock is the customer. He starts off barely paying attention to his surroundings as he gets his coffee. The first time she sees him, Molly notices the bloodshot eyes and the dark circles beneath them, and being the brilliant pre-med student that she is, recognizes the symptoms immediately. The next time she makes his coffee she writes a little note on his cup: Life is too short to waste. You could do something brilliant with yours.

Sherlock appears the next day, eyes scanning each barista, until he sees the mousy girl with brown hair and a look of recognition on her face. He seems angry, and he demands to know what her “little note” was about. Shyly, but still firmly, she says, “I think you know, or you wouldn’t be here. And I meant what I said. You could be brilliant.”

“I am brilliant.” And then he deduces her. Harshly.

She just stares at him, tears forming, but she doesn’t slap him or run off. Instead, she whispers. “You are brilliant… but think how much more you’d be able to see if you stopped clouding your brain.” This completely shakes him, and he leaves that day without coffee.

She doesn’t see him again for months, and when he comes back, he looks so much better. Dark circles gone, eyes bright and clear, and a healthy tinge of pink to his skin. He walks directly over to her and orders his coffee—“Black, two sugars, please”—and says nothing more. But Molly grins at the gratitude in his eyes, and in the use of the word please. She hands him his cup, with another little note: Told you so, with a smiley face. He meets her eyes, gives her the faintest smile, and says, “Thank you, Molly.”

He ends up coming in every day after that, and… well, you can guess the rest.

2. High school/College AU: Who is the straight-A student, and who’s the back row slacker?

Pfft, this one is obvious. Molly is the hardworking med student, Sherlock slacks off because school is too easy, and too dull, to bother with. But his parents refuse to give him any of the money they’ve set aside for him until he earns a degree, and finds something to do with his life. So he shows up to class, turns in the assignments, and gets the best grades in the class… until Molly shows up.

In advanced chemistry, she beats him by one point. But rather than being annoyed that she did better than him (because really, he wasn’t even trying), he’s intrigued. She doesn’t look like the kind of girl who would be suited for the sciences. She’s all smiles and colorful clothes and quirky habits. He starts watching her during class, her careful note-taking, her rapt interest in the subject matter. He deduces things about her – her father’s death, her mother’s disdain for her field of study, her older brother’s protectiveness, her love for animals, her tendency to trust people too easily – and his interest is piqued even more.

Soon he starts noticing other things about her. The faint hints of red in her hair when the sunlight catches them. The way she gnaws on her bottom lip when she’s thinking deeply. The absent twirling of a strand of hair when she’s bored. She chews gum on the days she hasn’t eaten breakfast, overly worried about her breath. Her hair is usually pulled into a hasty ponytail, but she leaves it down when she has a date. (He ignores the twisting in his gut when he makes that deduction.)

One day, she happens to look back at him, and oh, he tries not to catalogue the exact shade of pink her face turns as she blushes. And suddenly, he realizes he’s in over his head. He tries not to look at her, but she’s like a magnet. And now she keeps looking back at him, and he can see the curve of her small, pink mouth, the light dusting of freckles on her nose, the twinkle in those bottomless brown eyes.

He finally gives in and asks her out on the last day of term. She beams up at him and says, “It’s about bloody time!”

3. Rivals to lovers AU: Who takes their rivalry seriously, and who is half in it just to push the other’s buttons?

I guess I need to write more Uni!lock, because that's what comes to mind yet again! This time, when Molly gets better marks than Sherlock on an exam, he is OUTRAGED. He sulks and pointedly ignores her, until they get paired together for a project.

Molly is shy at first, and apologetic even when she hasn't done anything wrong. He finds it annoying, and tells her as much. She gets mad at him and calls him out for being so horrible to her when he's the one who didn't put in enough effort for the exam.

For reasons neither of them understand, he kisses her. And she slaps him. Then she kisses him back.

After that, she becomes much more confident. She challenges him more than any of his classmates, past or present. Also, she's absolutely adorable when she's cross with him. He begins to think this won't be such a bad arrangement after all.

4. Enemies to lovers AU: Which one switches sides?

Ooh, I'm thinking Revolutionary War. Molly is a nurse in the Colonies, Sherlock is a reluctant red-coat. He gets badly injured in a skirmish, and is one of only four survivors in his regiment. The other three ran before they could be captured, leaving him for dead. And who is the lucky nurse charged with his care? You guessed it!

Molly surprises him by being kind to him, even when he takes pains to belittle and insult her. He flat out asks her one day, why she's being so kind to him, when he's her enemy?

"I do not have any enemies," she replies calmly, tending to the dressings over his wound. "And as of yet, you have done nothing that would cause me to think of you as one."

"Perhaps I will," he counters, "once I am able to stand and find my musket."

She laughs at that. "I did not take you for the sort of man who would care about his own pain when confronting an enemy. If you truly wished us all dead, we would be." Her smiling eyes meet his. "And yet, here we are."

And HOLY SHIT I NEED TO KEEP WRITING THIS.

5. Soulmate AU: Who is eager to meet their soulmate? Who absolutely does not want to meet their soulmate?

Molly loves the idea of having a soulmate, and can’t wait to fall in love with whoever hers may be. She’s a little wary of the timing, however, because she wants to have a career, and worries her soulmate will want to get married immediately and start making babies. Sherlock, on the other hand, resents the little mark on his left shoulder, is determined to make his “soulmate” hate him the moment he meets her, so she won’t want him to marry her and start making babies.

Of course, things don’t go as planned. They meet on Molly’s first day at Bart’s, but they don’t figure out that they're soulmates until much later. When he fakes his death, and Molly has to do his autopsy, that’s when she sees the mark, identical to hers. She’s not surprised, because she’s already in love with him, but she knows his feelings on that subject, so she pretends it means nothing to her.

Then the phone call happens. Oh, the phone call! Sherlock turns up at her flat that night while she’s showering, and she doesn’t hear him pick her lock. He waits in her bedroom, and she comes in, wrapped only in a towel. She screams, only just hanging on to that towel, and then he sees it. He jumps up and turns her to get a better look at it. It'so mistaking it, that’s definitely the same mark. Which means… when she saw his, after he “died,” she knew… and didn’t say anything.

“Why?” he asks on a whisper.

“Because you don’t want it.”

He meets her eyes and says, “I didn’t. Not until you.”

....Fuck, I need to write this one, too.

6. Single parent AU: Which one is the single parent? (Alt. if they’re both single parents: Which one is open to starting a new relationship from the start? Which one is never planning on finding love again…Until they meet the other and are instantly smitten?)

Ooh, my favorite version of this has already been done, at least twice. Parent Trap AU!!! I recommend A Trap of Parental Proportions by 16magnolias, and also Brilliant Beyond Brilliant Idea by OccasionallyCreative. BOTH SO GOOD.

7. Doctor AU: Which one is the long-suffering doctor? Which one is the patient?

Um… this isn’t AU. This is canon. I totally believe Sherlock’s #2 reason for using Molly’s flat as a bolthole is because she patches him up. (#1 reason is because it's Molly, and she calms his mind. And he’ll never admit it, especially not to John, but he rather likes being the big spoon. 😉)

8. Bodyguard AU: Who is the bodyguard? Who are they protecting? Which one is secretly pining for the other?

Once again, this has been done already, masterfully so. I would like to direct you to The Queen’s Man, by @writingwife-83. It’s perfect. Also, MUTUAL PINING ALL THE WAY!!

9. Pirate AU: Who is the pirate? Who is the member of the royal family who did not sign up for this?

Again, obvious. Sherlock is the pirate. Molly is a royal, maybe a cousin of whichever historical monarch you think fits best (I say George III, because after #4, I'm digging the Revolutionary vibes). She gets kidnapped by the dastardly Captain Moriarty, who intends to kill her and frame his rival, Captain Holmes. Sherlock gets hired by his brother, who initially offers a great deal of money, which Sherlock declines. Then he offers freedom, for him to continue being a pirate without government interference. This, Sherlock accepts, and he sets off to rescue the royal damsel.

However, when he finds her, he discovers she is no damsel. She has won over Moriarty’s entire crew, and Moriarty has been marooned. He doubts his rival will stay on the little island they chose for very long. He tells her as much, and offers to help her bring him down, after which he will return her to London.

Of course, by the time they finish with Moriarty, they’ve fallen in love, and she has no desire to go back to her life of excess. Sherlock decides he much prefers the thrill of having to stay one step ahead of the government, and removing that challenge would spoil the fun.

Yep... gonna have to write this one, too.

10. Childhood best friends AU: Which one was super obviously in love with the other the whole time? Who was oblivious until they were older?

They were both madly in love, and it was obvious to everybody, except them. Neither of them knew how the other felt, and Molly only realized her own feelings when she was 12 or 13, somewhere around there. Sherlock took much longer, refusing to admit it until they were both adults. ALL THE MUTUAL PINING!!

Yep... these bear continued study and attention. I bet I can get a few one-shots out of them at least. 😊

#sherlolly #sherlolly questions #sherlolly headcanons #sherlolly ficlets #our ship sails on

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

for the song prompts: “you went and put me on a bigger stage/made me want to live again” with buckytony?

Tony Stark hadn’t played the stage in years. This was due to a lot of problems with his old manager, Obadiah Stane. That, and he had practically lived his whole life onstage. Everything was documented, his life on display, and he desperately wanted privacy.

He got it when he was twenty-four and tired of the whole scene. He swore off the industry, moved to a house away from it all, and made a living off of car repairs. People didn’t look at him and see the early-retired rocker, they saw a man with a faded nickname of “Tony” on his jumpsuit and a certain expertise that went generally unmatched.

Then, of course, there comes a new man in town. James “Bucky” Barnes, a man with a blunt stage presence and an adversity to the limelight. He avoids it, rarely does interviews, and when he does people listen.

The new hire at Jarvis Motors, Peter, excitedly runs up to Tony with the new interview. He knows all about Tony’s past life, even has a couple of old t-shirts of his aunts that he’ll occasionally wear to irk Tony.

(Although he’s never actually mad.)

“Look!” Peter says, waving his phone.

“I can’t see it if you’re moving it,” Tony says, taking himself away from one of the trucks. “What is it.”

“Bucky likes your style!”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Tony asks, a frown. “Do I know him?”

“You live under a rock,” Peter says.

“Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”

He sees the face of a guy who is exactly his type: tall, dark, a bit of a dangerous vibe going on.

“He’s the new face of rock,” Peter says. “And intensely private, rarely does interviews. And he mentioned you as a main influence.”

“In what, learning how not to do fame?” Tony asks.

“No, listen,” Peter insists, unpausing the video.

“And who would you say is your biggest influence, music wise?”

“Definitely Tony Stark,” Bucky says, smiling faintly. “He had performance, but everyone in the industry has that. His performances were uniquely his own. He developed his own way, didn’t rely on fancy pyrotechnics but incorporated them in. There’s something about him I don’t think any of us--especially myself--are going to forget.”

Tony smiles faintly.

“See?” Peter says. “You should tell him you liked the interview.”

“And what, have people pay attention to me again?” Tony asks. “I like being able to open my curtains in the morning hours, Pete.”

As it turns out, people do not bother him at his residence, although he gets a formal email from the band’s manager asking him if he would like to come to a show.

He asks if he can bring along another person, and they say yes.

Peter cannot stop yelling about it.

“A concert Mr. Stark!” he yells. “A real concert! And we get to see Bucky perform live!”

“It’s Tony, and it’s not a big deal,” Tony says, smiling to himself as he sees Peter bouncing up and down on his feet.

Front row tickets. Of course. Tony should have expected it, although it’s so...it’s been so long since he’s been on a stage, let alone near one.

There are whispers all around him, cameras trained on his every move as Peter excitedly jabbers on about the band’s upcoming tour, the success story, and Bucky’s memorable personality.

“You’ll like him,” Peter says.

Peter’s right. As they come out on stage, Tony grins at the band, who all smile at each other and Bucky whoops. The crowd whoops back. He sings a couple notes, has them repeated back to him.

“Some of you know us, some of you were dragged here,” Bucky announces. “Parents, I’m not apologizing. You bought the tickets. But let’s have a good time tonight, sure?”

There’s a roar of approval as they get into the first song.

Bucky has an easy stage appearance and it’s almost like he’s been on one all his life. His feet slide to the rhythm, eyes light up with each lyric. He enunciates some funny words, deftly grabs the bracelets and gifts that fans wave in the air.

He can hear the way that lyrics resonate with others, he sees at least one person crying. It’s powerful, and he can’t say that he hasn’t missed what that means.

After a show is just as important. There’s a pleasant, heady buzz to the air, the overhead lights shining bright white on everything. Reality a bit altered.

They still get to go backstage.

Tony looks around, taking note of the crew that scurry around, giving him nervous looks.

“If they knew you’ve ranted about the different models of car you hate, they wouldn’t think you were this impressive,” Peter mutters.

Tony laughs.

“You’re right about that. But you forget that I was impressive.” Peter laughs, wringing his hands as they get to where the meeting room is.

“We’ll be fine,” Tony says.

“Holy shit, I didn’t actually think you’d come!” Bucky says upon opening the door. “Fuck, man!”

Tony laughs.

“I had a couple of sick days to burn. I loved the set, you guys are talented.”

The drummer--Natasha, if Tony remembers from the information Peter had sped through--waves.

“You still at that car repair shop?”

Tony raises an eyebrow.

“How do you know that?”

“Pepper and I follow each other on Instagram.”

“Oh,” Tony says, blinking. “So I know you from there. Nice skills with the drums.”

“Thanks.”

Tony faces Bucky.

“So. I saw the interview. That really true or something they told you to say?”

"Why would it be a lie?” Bucky asks.

“I’m not exactly that big anymore,” Tony says. “And I don’t know, I guess it’s just hard to imagine someone being that influenced by me.”

Bucky grins.

“When you look like you do and you sing like you do? Honey it’s a miracle more people aren’t admiring you as much as I do.”

Tony blushes. Peter groans and goes over to where Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter are, choosing to avoid the conversation altogether.

“So,” Tony says. “I don’t do a lot of the rockstar shit much, but I do remember how nice a burger was post-show. My treat?”

Bucky grins, leaning forward.

“Oh, I’d love that.”

Tony doesn’t mind being photographed in the company of Bucky Barnes. It does rocket his business up to beyond-busy, he can no longer go to the grocery store at regular hours, and he gets judged for buying three packs of Oreos.

But he gets to spend time with Bucky, who has the best jokes, the greatest smile, and sings like he’s the only person in the room.

It’s not all bad.

(At least, for now. Pepper is mentioning something about a “return” tour and he just knows he’ll do it and he knows it’ll be amazing. Ugh.)

#to clarify this is an extremely old prompt #bucky barnes #tony stark #just a short little cute meeting thingie #band au #rockstar au #kind of #peter parker #OF COURSE HE'S A HUGE NERD #winteriron #lovelyirony writes

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aph-honk-kong · 3 years

Text

The Pulse

All the gossip about the youngest Wang fellow bringing back a commoner, of all people, but from a bystander’s standpoint. [Written for @aphasiaweek with a focus on Thailand and Vietnam.] [A continuation of this.]

More OCs because Wherefore Not Lauren Tan - Singapore

...

8 Repulse Bay Road, Hong Kong

For two people who’ve only known each other for a few months, Linh has to say they’re getting along pretty well.

The marrying couple probably only hired them both for the news coverage, because who in their right mind would commission two chefs with two entirely different styles who’ve never met before to work on something as important as a wedding cake?

At least she gets free dinners out of it.

Next to her, holding his chopsticks in one hand and a pencil in another, fellow celebrity chef Somchai Akari stares at his sketchbook, flipping through pages upon pages of wedding cake sketches. “The bride says she wants the cake to ‘consist of a delicate melange of French and Chinese elements’, whatever that means.”

“It means we make a croquembouche, slap a red dragon on top and call it a day,” Linh says drily.

He snorts. “But seriously, does she want it to taste or look like an ungodly Franco-Chinese combination?”

“Damn if I know. All rich people are vague.” She plucks the sketchbook from right under Somchai and closes it. “Let’s take a break on it tonight. We’ve been losing sleep over the stupid wedding banquet for the past four months, we can afford to take an evening off.” Linh nibbles at a bundle of noodles. looking out at the large buffet line across the enormous dining room. “Come on, people-watch with me for tonight.”

Somchai obliges. He takes a sip from the glass of white wine resting in front of him and turns his chair to face the crowd. “Didn’t Yao say this would be a simple dinner?”

“There are less than two hundred people here.”

“And that’s simple?”

“Dunno.” Linh shrugs. “Yao probably thinks so.” She squints at a table a few meters away from them. “Oh look, there’s Yong-Soo Im. Can’t believe he’s not being followed by his horde of rabid fans.”

“I saw Yao’s security prying them off of him when he came in. The guy’s so popular it’s scary.”

Linh turns her view to another table this time and her jaw drops. “Holy shit, is that Gabriella Sabularse?”

Somchai practically clambers over her to get a look. “It is. D’you think she’s going to the wedding?”

“Of course she is, anyone who’s anything will be there. Why is she here now, though?”

“Probably looking for more juicy gossip, if you ask me.” He drinks from his wineglass again, eyeing Ella warily. “Wasn’t she the one who let it slip that Vicente and Madeline were dating?”

“Mmhmm. We wouldn’t be stuck here, at the whims of Madeline Bonnefoy, if not for her.”

“I don’t know whether to thank her or punch her for that.”

“Hey, who’s that she’s looking at.” Linh follows Ella’s gaze to a table at the corner of the room, where Leon is eating his dinner. She doesn’t recognise the guy he’s sitting with at first, but when she gets a full view of his face, she has to rub her eyes to make sure she’s not hallucinating. “Somchai.”

“What?”

She points to the man discretely. He’s looking around him, wide-eyed, and out-of-place in his non-designer clothes. But plainness aside, there’s no hiding who he is. “That’s Harald Grieg.”

“The Harald Grieg?” Somchai repeats. “The Dragon Room’s head chef?”

“That’s the one. The place got into the world’s top one hundred restaurants just a year after he took charge. Oh goodness, I can’t believe we’re getting to see him in person.”

“Well, no surprise. You did say that anyone who’s anything is going to the wedding.”

Linh squints at him. “Grieg is hardly known outside the restaurant world, though, and he’s nowhere as rich as these folk. What if he’s going to be Leon’s plus-one?”

“As his boyfriend, you mean? Yao would lose his mind.”

She’s about to reply when she sees Madeline approaching them, probably to interrogate them about the cake. “Fuck, fuck, pissy bride at twelve o’clock. Grab your book and look busy!”

...

Harald’s been at the house for three hours and he still can’t process it all.

The moment he and Leon arrived, a group of servants showed up to offer them hot towels to wipe their hands with. Then another pair arrived to take their coats for them and carry their bags up to one of the living rooms, where most of the people were. The place feels even bigger than the W Hotel, and somehow even fancier than their suite at the Four Seasons - which he didn’t even know was possible.

The dining room looks like a replica of some three-Michelin-starred restaurant, with a glittering chandelier hanging from the ceiling, tables covered with glossy silk coverings and chairs with elaborately-carved backs that must be a nightmare to clean. Leon’s introduced him to most of his friends, most of which seem filthy rich like he apparently is.

“I didn’t know you were this rich,” he tells his boyfriend while having dinner.

“We’re just fortunate,” Leon defends.

“That’s rich-people talk for ‘I am so incredibly wealthy that now I think I’m a commoner’.”

“Ouch.” He presses a hand to his chest in mock offence. “Well, you don’t seem very surprised.”

Harald looks him right in the face and deadpans, “we live in a house in London, and you refuse to shop anywhere but Waitrose’s. It was pretty obvious.”

“Oh.”

Someone suddenly breaks free from the cluster of gossipers near the buffet line and collapses into the seat next to his. “Why did I decide to show up?”

Leon grins at the girl, who looks just about ready to die. “Can’t imagine seeing you here, Lauren.”

“Says the persistent bastard who wouldn’t give in until I agreed to show up.” Lauren rubs her temples, groaning, “fuck you, by the way.”

“Love you too.”

“So this is the infamous boyfriend?” She turns her attention to Harald. “Huh. Not bad.”

“Hi.” Harald’s voice cracks. “Are you a friend of Leon’s?”

“I guess you could say that. I worked at that flashy hotel of his while studying for my master’s at Oxford, and he just grew on me.” Lauren bites into a steamed dumpling, adding, “and now I’m stuck with him here.”

“I pity the poor kids who have you as their professor,” Leon mutters.

Harald tries to stifle his laughter. At least there’s one normal-acting person this dinner.

“Oh look, there’s the old man.”

True to Leon’s word, Yao is rising from his table and approaching theirs. “What do I say to him? How do I greet him? What - “

“Don’t think too much about it.”

“That’s not very helpful!” He hastily stands up when Yao reaches the table and forces a smile. “Hello.”

“Ka Long!” He pulls Leon in a hug, laughing, “Aiyah, you look so thin! Is the awful English food not enough for you? I told you all those years ago that you’d starve to death in England, and did you listen?”

“I’m fine lah, don’t worry about me.” He pushes Yao away. “Anyways, I want you to meet my boyfriend Harald.”

Yao looks at him, eyes narrowed. “Ah, Harald the yacht-less.”

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing, I’m just messing with you.” He smiles. “I hear you work at the Dragon Room?”

He nods. “I’m the head chef there.”

“Very impressive. You won an award as one of the UK’s most talented young chefs this June, didn’t you?”

“Yes, that was me.”

Yao’s expression softens, and he says, “well, I’m glad Leon is together with someone with talent. But if you don’t mind asking, wherever did you train? With your skills, I assume you studied at one of the Cordon Bleu academies?”

“No, actually,” Harald corrects, “I just went to a vocational centre in Trondheim, where I grew up, right after high school. I wasn’t ready to leave the country just yet.”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah, his name is Stellan.” After that, he adds sheepishly, “his full name is Stellan Grieg. Have you heard of him before?”

Yao furrows his brow. “It does ring a bell. Is he famous or something?”

“He’s a writer. Maybe you’ve read one of his books before.”

“Maybe. Well, I have to go now, but it was very nice meeting you. See you at the wedding.”

“See you,” Harald echoes. He waits until Yao is out of earshot before turning back to Leon. “Oh my goodness, he hates me.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

He pushes Leon down onto his chair and sits square on his lap, ignoring how both of them blush. “I bet he’s planning to assassinate me.”

“Come on, don’t worry.” Leon pecks him on the cheek. “Yao doesn’t show his emotions much, but he has to like you. Everyone likes you.”

...

“Well?” Ella is onto Yao the moment he sits down, eyes glittering with curiosity. “Anything new about Harald?”

“His brother couldn’t afford to send him outside the country!” Yao bemoans. “I could’ve accepted it if he’d gone to one of those French or Swiss schools to train, but some nobody vocational centre in Norway? I couldn’t name a culinary school there if I tried!”

“Oh my goodness, he must be really poor, then. Did he really say his brother didn’t have enough money to send him elsewhere?”

“No, but he did say that his brother was a writer.”

Ella sniggers. “A writer! They’re definitely broke. I can’t imagine what Leon sees in him.”

“Well, they’ll break up soon enough,” Yao says dismissively. “At least, they better.”

...

A/N: Just saying but there’s nothing wrong with going to culinary school in Norway Yao just doesn’t like it because he’s stupid and rich

Follow your dreams kids

#aph hongice #aph hong kong #aph iceland #aph vietnam #aph thailand #octalia #aph singapore #aph philippines #aph fanfiction #my writing #aphasiaweek #crazy rich asians parody #here it is #late #but here

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lumiolivierlithium · 3 years

Text

The Good Old Days Chapter Four: I Quit!

ICYMI: Chapter Three: Abuela’s Food Truck

A/N: Hi, friends! Here we are. Another day. Another week. Another chapter. And this one is 100% turning point. And it’s beautiful. So, as always...Feedback is appreciated. A like...A reblog. Just a little something, something so I know this isn’t a waste of time? Please? K, bye! x

Later that night, it was that time again. Time to walk into the fire. We could manage. If all else fails, I’m sure there’s a cool guy willing to buy us drinks again. But since there’s money in our bank accounts again, we could probably stand to buy our own. Regardless, it was yet another night at the salt mines. And a little positivity could go a long way. If we go into this pissed off and bitter, people are going to pick up on that. And I don’t need to bring that kind of energy. I didn’t hate all of the staff. Most of them weren’t exactly on my good side, but not all of them were terrible.

Then, I got to my first table of the night. And they weren’t assholes. I’ll take that as a win. My next table? Not miserable. Ok. Things are starting to look up. But then…Toward the end of my shift. There they were. Again. They came back. And they were in my section. Fan…fucking…Tastic. Still, I slapped on that fake ass smile they wanted to see. Because god forbid I come off like I’m pissed off to see them. Of course not. Of course I’m happy to see you. Because you coming in here means I get paid. That correlation fucking sucked.

“Oh…” she got one look at me and instantly turned her nose up. Awesome, “It’s you.”

“It’s me,” I confirmed, “Welcome back, ma’am. How may I help you?”

“Can you find me a new waiter?” she scoffed, “One that’s a little more competent than you?”

“I am competent, ma’am,” I kept my cool. Don’t let her piss me off. Don’t let her piss me off. Don’t let her piss me off.

“If last night was any evidence of that,” she rolled her eyes, “I wouldn’t say so. If you were in one of my restaurants, I wouldn’t have hired you in the first place.”

“I’m sorry.” That you ever crawled out of the primordial ooze, “Now, other than a new waiter, how may I…?”

“I want a new waiter.”

Santa Maria, Madre de Dios. Ruega por nosotros pecadores. Ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerté. Amén, “You were seated in my section, ma’am. I’m sorry, but I can’t get you a new waiter.”

“Then, we’re leaving.” Good fucking riddance. She says she’s leaving, but she didn’t even move. I wasn’t stopping her. If that’s the case, then what the hell was she doing? Other than terribly bluffing.

Then, as if the night couldn’t have gone further downhill, my manager came over, “Is there a problem here?”

“I want a new waiter,” the woman stood her ground, “I don’t care where I’m seated. I want a new waiter.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Spineless prick, “Frankie, can I see you for a moment?”

“Sure,” I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I followed him into the kitchen. Oh, shit. This can’t be good, “What’s up?”

“This is the second night in a row I’ve gotten complaints about you.” Taking me over his knee in front of everyone would’ve been less demeaning, “And from the same person!”

“She’s a prime example of the customer not always being right,” I bit the inside of my cheek in attempts to not blow right the fuck up about her.

“That’s not part of our job, Frankie,” the manager scolded me, “Our job is to keep them happy and keep them coming back.”

“It’s not part of our job to become their best friend,” I grumbled.

“If it was,” he went on, “I would’ve fired you by now.”

“Look,” I swallowed my pride, “I need this job. Don’t let this one customer be the deciding factor.”

“You got one more chance, Frankie,” he sighed out, “If I hear one more peep out of that woman because of you, you’re on your ass. I don’t care how bad you need this job. I want you to buddy up to her like your life depends on it. Because by the sounds of it, it does.”

In that moment, I wasn’t sure what snapped in my brain, but when I opened my mouth again, what I intended to say was some sort of empty apology and to go back out there. However, that wasn’t the case, “I quit.”

“What?”

“I quit,” I spoke a little firmer. That felt kind of good. I untied my apron and dropped it in his hand, “I fucking quit.”

“I thought you said you needed this job.”

“I thought I did,” I beamed, “But I don’t. It sounds like you need me more than I need you. I fucking quit! I don’t have to stay and deal with this bullshit anymore. Fuck her. Fuck you. Fuck everyone here I don’t share blood with. Later, bitches!”

And just like that, I walked out. I was done. My last shift was over. And I was done. I had a feeling that if I were to come within a hundred feet of this place ever again, it’s going to be a police escort off the property. I didn’t care anymore. I was done. I didn’t have to deal with the bullshit anymore. I was free. When I slipped into the alley to wait for César and Tony to finish up for the night, I put a quarter in the payphone outside and pulled out that business card.

“Hello?”

“You gave me your number, Old Man,” I couldn’t wipe the fucking smile off my face if I wanted to, “The least I could do is call, so you’re not waiting for the phone to ring.”

“Frankie!” he chimed on the other end. Oh, that just put a good feeling back in my heart. The only thing that would make it any better would be if Abuela’s truck came by. But this would do, “How you doing, kid?”

“I’m in,” I told him, “I’m so fucking in.”

The other end was quiet for a minute. Ok…Good feeling slowly going away. Say something, Old Man. You told me to call you when I was ready. Just fucking say something, “And your brothers?”

“Not sure about them yet,” I admitted, “But I know I’m in. And…Uh…Before I’m completely in…”

“What is it, Frankie?” he worried, “Everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” I wasn’t sure how true that statement was. I did just quit my job. Out of pure anger and a snap decision. But I also had this in my back pocket, “Are you busy tomorrow night?”

“Can’t say I am,” the Old Man told me, “Why?”

“My…” This was going to sound so stupid. But whatever it takes, “My mother wants to have you over for dinner.”

“That’s not a problem,” he allowed, “What time should I be there?”

Holy shit. I wasn’t expecting that to go over so well, “Uh…Eight o’clock?”

“I can do eight o’clock,” the Old Man confirmed, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Ok,” I nodded, “See you tomorrow night.”

Slowly, but surely, I hung up the phone. What the fuck just happened? Hold on, Frankie. Back track here. One minute, you were dealing with the woman with the stick in her ass. She wanted a new waiter and you weren’t having it. Mostly just to piss her off because you’re occasionally petty. Then, your manager pissed you off even more. You quit your job because of you being pissed off. You called the Old Man. And…Now, you’re having dinner with him and Mama tomorrow night. My head hurts. I needed painkillers. And a lot of them. We’ll start with aspirin and work our way up to morphine.

“Hey, Frankie?” César came out first, “You alright, hermanito? You seem like you’re about to kill someone. Or like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“A little bit of both actually,” I sat on the back steps, “Watch your asses in there. I just quit.”

“Are you serious?” he gasped, “Frankie, why would you do that?”

“I wasn’t dealing with it anymore,” I did all I could to keep myself from crying, “Fuck this place, César. I’d love nothing more than to watch it burn to the ground, but I don’t have to deal with it anymore. It was either I quit or I get fired because of the same woman that was trying to get me fired last night. And I’ll be damned if I let her get the satisfaction. I called the Old Man. Everything should be fine. He’s coming for dinner tomorrow night.”

“So Mama can meet him,” César figured, “Did you tell him you’d take the job?”

“I don’t have much of a choice now,” I shrugged, “It’s either unemployment or employment. I don’t know about you, but I got a good feeling about taking the job with the Old Man.”

“We’ll see what Mama has to say about him.”

“The hell are you two doing out here?” Tony joined us, throwing on his jacket.

“Waiting on your slow ass to get out here,” I jabbed.

“Are you alright, Frankie?” he wondered, “I heard people say you were blowing up on the manager and that you walked out.”

“I quit,” I filled him in, “I got something better lined up anyway.”

“The Old Man?”

“Hope so.”

Just like any other night, the three of us hopped the subway and headed home. I’m not going to miss this. Not in the least bit. If the Old Man lets me work in the Narrows, I’d be spitting distance from home. No more subways. No more buses. No more public transit. I wonder if the Old Man would let me take his town car every now and then. That’d be pretty cool, too. Now, I just needed to tell Mama we were having company tomorrow night.

“Mama?” I went in first and did a quick look around, “We’re home. And on time.”

“Welcome home, mijos,” Mama greeted us from the living room, “Cómo te fué en el trabajo?”

“Long,” Tony threw himself into the armchair.

“Tiring,” César took the other end of the couch.

“It’s funny you ask, Mama,” I bit the inside of my cheek, “Do you remember me telling you about the man from the restaurant? The one we had drinks with last night that wanted to help us?”

“Si.”

“I talked to him tonight,” I went on, “Is it alright that he’s coming for dinner tomorrow night?”

“That’s fine,” she allowed, “I’m glad you took my advice, Francisco. I’m glad one of you listen to me.”

“We listen to you, too, Mama!” Tony whined.

“Antonio,” Mama hushed him, “I know you do. But sometimes, tu hermanito listens a little better. Isn’t that right, mijo?”

“I do what I can,” I kissed her cheek, “I’m going to head to bed, ok, Mama?”

“Ok,” her hand immediately went to my forehead, “You’re not getting sick, are you, Francisco?”

“I’m alright,” I assured her. I knew better than to tell her not to worry. She’d beat me senseless for saying something so stupid. But I digress, “Good night.”

“Good night…”

Today really did kick my ass. And it went by in a blur. I still had a hard time believing I quit the restaurant. I didn’t realize it’d be that easy. Fortunately, I had something else lined up. As long as Mama liked the Old Man, I’d be golden. If she didn’t…Well…What Mama doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right? And as long as he came through on our deal. Tomorrow couldn’t get here fast enough. So, I shut my eyes and hoped for the best.

The next morning, I got up bright and early. I knew Mama would be up, too. She didn’t have to work today, so we had all day to do as we pleased. Although, I knew I’d have to break the news that I don’t have a job anymore to her eventually today. She’ll start to wonder why Tony and César are going to work, but I’m sticking around home. There’s no way I took tonight off just because the Old Man was coming to dinner. She might kill me for it, but I’m sure the new job will be much better than the old one.

I looked over at my brothers’ beds and sure enough, they were still sleeping like babies. Aww…Every part of me was wanting to wake their asses up, but they had a long shift to put in tonight without me. Instead, I covered them both up a little better and quietly closed the door on my way out. And they seem to think I’m the one that needs to be looked after. Sometimes, I do, but nine times out of ten, these two would both be dead without me. I seem to remember a time when I had to stop Tony from walking into oncoming traffic. Regardless, I walked into the kitchen and found Mama already at the stove. I love her.

“Buenos dias, Mama,” I kissed her cheek and got the coffee pot going.

“Buenos dias,” she gasped, “You’re up early, Francisco. I would’ve thought you’d sleep until at least noon.”

“Guess I’m just up early,” I shrugged, peeking over her shoulder, “What do you have going on?”

“You said we were expecting company tonight,” Mama reminded me, “I thought I’d get an early start.”

“You wouldn’t want a little help, would you?” I offered. It didn’t matter what age I was. Cooking was one of those things that always came naturally to me. Why? I don’t know. But I didn’t care. Because I could still cook like a dream. That’s something that would never go away. And Mama knew that.

“I’d love a little help,” she allowed, “While you and your brothers were shopping yesterday, I should’ve had you get some rice. We’re completely out.”

“Really?” That never happened. Ever.

“Nothing,” Mama showed me the end of the big ass bag of rice. With no rice in it.

“I’ll go get you some, if you need it.”

“No, no,” she stopped me, “I’ll go get. You stay here and keep an eye on things. Make sure nothing burns.”

“Got it,” I let her go off to the store and stayed behind to watch all the pots boil. Oh, Mama…You overdid. I mean, I understand you want to go all out with your cooking when we have people coming over, but you didn’t need to go this hard. Bless this woman. May no misfortune ever befall her.

By the looks of it, she’s got churro dough started. Muy bien, Mama. Muchas gracias. I know what I’m having for breakfast. All it needed was to be piped. The oil was hot enough. Why not? I scooped the dough into a piping bag and started squeezing the dough into the oil. Sweet Jesus…There were few things as satisfying as the first churro in the oil. And Mama’s churros rarely disappointed. She had something secret in the dough and she’d take that secret to the grave with her. Even I didn’t know it and I knew all of Mama’s cooking tricks. Her churro recipe, though? Way too coveted.

“Buenos dias, hermanito,” César stumbled into the kitchen, still half asleep and admiring the small accumulation of churros cooling off to the side, “Hell yeah, Mama made churros.”

Just as he went to reach for one, I immediately slapped the back of his hand, “No.”

“Ow!” he nursed his hand, “What the fuck, Frankie? You still have a whole fucking bag of dough yet.”

“You know damn well Mama knows exactly how many this dough is going to make,” I shoved my finger in his face, “If one goes missing, she’s going to be pissed. Do you want to throw off Mama’s rhythm?”

“God no…”

“Alright then,” I went back to making churros, “Besides, those are still probably pretty hot. They just came out of the oil a couple minutes ago.”

“Speaking of Mama,” César sat down at the kitchen table, “Where is she? There’s no way in hell she’s still in bed.”

“She had to make a grocery store run,” I told him, “Apparently, we were out of rice and no one knew it, so she went to get some.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to come home from work tonight,” César swooned, “The best part about us having company. Mama cooks. And cooks more than what the four of us could possibly eat. We eat like kings for the next week.”

“Or your lazy ass learns to cook,” I teased him a bit.

“Why would I do that,” he retaliated, “when you’d do all the cooking for me anyway?”

“Because you wouldn’t do it right,” I rolled my eyes. Both Mama and I had a thing when it came to the kitchen. No one dares use it other than us, “I wouldn’t trust you ten feet in front of a microwave, let alone actually attempt cooking.”

“Thanks, Frankie,” César made his coffee, “Love you, too.”

“If I didn’t love you,” I argued, “Would I be doing this? Would I have beaten you for the sake of you not burning yourself on churros?”

“Valid point,” he gave me an appreciative nod.

“Good morning…” And there’s the other one. I was wondering how long it would take them to wake up once Mama started cooking.

“Morning, Tony,” I grabbed a cup for him from the cabinet and handed it off.

“Bless you.”

“I do what I can,” I went back to the churros on the stove. Mama always said to keep cooking them until they float. Then, take them out of the oil.

Oh, tonight was going to be a night. I could feel it already. My bones wouldn’t lie to me.

#The Good Old Days #fan fiction #fan fiction prequel #mafia au #switch #for the family #OC backstory

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not-the-cleavers · 4 years

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Target II - Chapter 6

HOLY SHIT sorry for the delay but I seriously got into a rut of ‘I don’t wanna” then Queen happened but now Chapter 6 is here!!! Now I’m not going to lie I did channel Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds for a small section of this. Now Four comes across as a fuck boy in this chapter cause ya girl was dealing with some shit while writing this. Also I never thought that I would ever google “how to clean a gun” and “how to care for throwing knives” BUT HERE WE ARE!!!

Tags; @adrenaline-roulette and @amy-brooklyn99 - if you would like to be tagged just let me know

Pairing; Four x Eight (female reader) Fandom; 6 Underground Warnings; Swearing, angst, mentions of trafficking again (sorry), violence against fellow ghosts and smoking Word count; 1.9k (total so far 9.8k)

Summary; The team has moved onto their next target after dealing with Rovach Alimov, a war criminal named John Dough. Eight has just joined the team and is dying to show how much she deserves to be there

Catch up: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

A week has passed since my last interaction with Billy, was he avoiding me? I was able to keep my mind off the blonde for a while by concentrating on the hard drive and working out who John Dough interacted with most so we could hopefully take down his whole operation. Unfortunately, I made quick work of that task as Dough was meticulously organised. He had folders for business associates, shell companies, calendars and meetings with audio logs, he even had a folder for completed deals, and all were named as such. Normally organised hard drives were sought after, but all I wanted was a massive mess to have to dive into, search for what I need and take my mind off that stupidly beautiful blonde. So I started to make notes, prolonging my work and making the next brief easier, or at least that’s what I was telling myself. I decided a timeline was the best way to figure this guy out, so that’s exactly what I did. I hit play on a random playlist on my iPod to have play in the background while I focused. According to every system I had access to; John Dough did not exist before 2001 when he was 29. There are no birth or death certificates, no school, prison or medical records, no properties or loans under his name. He was effectively like us, a ghost. No real name or family, nothing tying him to anything before his crimes. Which began when he made a name for himself as a hitman. Starting slow, killing random strangers for other random strangers to make money, but without a conscious, it appeared he had no rules when it came to his murder for hire business. Three had previously mentioned almost all hitmen refuse to kill children, a few less refuse to kill women, but this guy had no cut off point. His youngest victim was just 6 months old when the car he was in with his mother exploded, as per the deal with the scumbag husband and father who paid him $500,000 for the hit. In 2008 he left the hitman business and became a human trafficker, more money and more risk involved with that particular lifestyle. And in that position he was able to create all sorts of partnerships with all types of psychopaths and lowlifes, so in 2011 when he decided that he wanted more money and more power, he became an arms dealer. His biggest earning clients were the terrorist cells he supplied with guns and chemical weapons. And that’s what he’s been doing for the past nine years, and that’s what caught One’s eye. One had a sneaking suspicion that Dough has supplied Rovach with the Sarin gas for the attack that he bore witness to all those years ago. Granted One had no idea I knew he was there during that attack, but I gather intelligence, of course I knew he was there.

Eight: Call a brief. One: You sure you’re ready, or do you still need your beauty sleep? Eight: Fuck off cunt. One: This better be fucking good. Hanger, 1 hour.

I busied myself, making seven copies of my notes and timeline and filed one copy into one folder for everyone, shoved another cigarette into my mouth and lit it, pocketed the pack and made my way over to the hanger with the files and my laptop. I had to set up to make this brief go smoothly, because unlike the rest of the ghosts, I have been legally dead for the past 3 years, well before One had recruited me. If One decided that he no longer needed me, I wasn’t stuck for options, he didn’t have to actually kill me and I could make do on my own, and he knew that.

I wirelessly connected my laptop to the multiple screens around the room, giving everyone a decent view of what I’ve found, and just as I was placing the folders around our table, One entered the room, making a scene and complaining that I was making the room smell worse with my cigarettes. “I prefer cigarette smoke over the smell of dried blood that normally floods this room” I sneered in his direction. He just rolled his eyes in response. Slowly everyone filtered in and took their seats, Billy was last in and refused to make eye contact with you. Fuck him; he doesn’t know what he’s missing! With a slight shake of my head I steadied my breath and started going over everything I know. “Alrighty squirrel friends, I have delved deep into this monsters hard drive and this is what I’ve learnt…” I started my monologue, going over the time line I created with all his victims in the early days, moving onto his trafficking days with the photos found a week ago inside their own manila folder for only the brave to look at. Four pushed that folder as far away from him as possible as soon as I mention what was inside. Finishing with his latest weapons deals that were leading to innocent deaths in the hundreds of thousands to possible millions. “Prior to 2001, there is nothing on him. I have no idea what this man was doing before he turned 29 so just in case it wasn’t obvious; John Dough is not his birth name.” this caused a small chuckle from the ghosts. “But what I do know, he travels to meet this man” I flashed a picture of a fat, white and balding man up on the screens for the team to see “twice a month, to eat expensive meals, drink ridiculously old and pricey scotch, smoke Cuban cigars and fuck high end prostitutes. Not to mention secure guns and chemical weapons for the people Dough sells to. His name is Stanislav Zakirov, a high level member of the Russian Mob. Now we could go after this piece of shit as well, but that would be more of a shit show than Hong Kong was. I would recommend hitting Dough after one of these meetings, after Zakirov leaves. This minimises the risk to us, keeps us away from the Russians, and means we can take this fucker down.” The room fell quiet as soon as I finished my speech; I was done talking so I just waited for someone to say something, a glance up at One revealed he was avoiding looking at me after his last words to me in person. After a few minutes with not a single word I decided I was done sitting around, I picked up my laptop once more, I walked past One and said loudly “Was that fucking good enough for you? Prick” lit another cigarette and walked out the hanger.

Now with nothing to do to take my mind off everything that had happened over the past weeks I felt lost and unable to get rid of my anger, so a ritualistic activity was needed. Cleaning my guns and sharpening my knives. I walked to a rusted airplane fuselage across the lot that was upcycled into the armoury for the team, and over to my gear and started to lay out the items needed. I started with my knives, unsheathing the blades and placing them on the metal bench, and one by one sharpening them with my trusty bastard file, quickly washing away any shavings that might be left on the knife-edge and rubbing them down with lubricant, thankfully gun lubricant works for this as that’s all I had left. As I was sharpening the last blade I noticed it was slightly bent, possibly from the last mission, so I made quick work of straightening it out, placing it slightly offset from a piece of the fuselage and using my body weight. Not the best way to do it but after years I found it was the quickest. After all my knives were sharpened I started the formulaic process of cleaning my guns. Rolling out a towel and placing the brushes, lubricant, cleaning solvent and cotton swabs down and disassembling my guns one at a time. I found myself falling into rhythm, the clicks and smells of the cleaning solution taking my mind off the joke that was this teams current state of being. As I was working on my last gun my heightened instincts told me that someone was coming towards the armoury. I grabbed one of my knives and used my shirt to wipe away any remaining lubricant, and with one swift move I turned on the stool I was on and threw the blade. The knife pierced the plastic on the side of the planes body right by the door, a warning throw, not intended to harm but to scare away whoever was coming. “Fuck me dead Eight! You have to stop doing that to me” One’s voice, dripping with frustration and anger broke the silence of the room. “Maybe you should’ve learnt your lesson from last time and avoid sneaking up on me when I’m pissed off” I sneered, my attention was back to my gun, with one final click the barrel was back in place. “The fuck do you want, can’t you see I’m busy?” “Well we all wanted to know if you were coming back to the briefing or if you were gonna wallow here in self-pity” One snorted. That does it. I let loose another blade, this time aiming for his thigh, but he saw it coming and quickly dodged it. “See I did learn from last time” “Leave me alone One, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit right now. Last I checked, we were the ones working our asses off on your vendetta missions while you hang around out of danger and piss us all off.” I was yelling at this point. I was never one to hide my anger and One had hit just the right buttons, that and Four who was being the exact definition of a fuck boy right now, was enough to make me explode. “Now unless you’re here to apologise I suggest you get lost” my voice was almost a snarl at this point.

That’s when I noticed that the rest of the ghosts were also in the room with us, all but Two seemed surprised by my outburst, and even more so at my complete disregard to if I hit One or not. She had what almost looked like a smile on her lips. One pushed past them all in a huff, a string of profanities leaving his lips, all focused towards me. After a few awkward moments Two broke the silence. “Well I’m no pussy so I’ll speak. We agree with your plan, it’s smart and the easiest way to take him out. Also One is a dick. He wants to apologise but his ego is getting in the way” her French accent bringing an air of class to her words. The rest of the ghosts nodded along with her words.

“Right well he knows where to find me if he decides to pull his head out of his ass and apologise” I told her, standing from my position and making my way out of the room “excuse me, I need to be alone right now” I made my way past my team mates and out into the thick humidity of the Californian desert, unsure where I was going, but knowing I didn’t want to be around anyone.

#ben hardy fic #ben hardy #ben jones #6 underground #6 underground fic #four x eight #four x reader #billy/four #FOUR FIC

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green-valkyrie · 4 years

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Untapped Abilities

Untapped Abilities-- Chapter Loki Fic.

Loki x Reader

Since your ex left, you’ve given all your attention to your career. The hard work you had put in earned you a major promotion. Your friend and you decide to go out for the night. She has hopes that you will meet someone to at least take you home for the night, maybe more.... you just want to get drunk. After all, being a college professor is a lot of work.

Chapter 1: New Things

The last month and a half has been busy for you at work. Honestly, your carrier as a theologian has been quite dry. There aren’t many new things to be discovered and many of the new theories that get published are typically discredited. Still, the stories that you’ve read a thousand times still excite you. The tales of love and woe excite you; and to be quite honest set the bar for any men in your life too high for any mortal to meet. You’ve always been enamored with Mythology in every culture from Chinese to Greek, but the one that you hold closest to your heart is Norse. Because of your extensive knowledge on the subject, you were selected to steam-head the curriculum for the new Theology degree course being offered at the college next semester. Of course, you would be teaching and heading the department, hiring professors, writing curriculum, etc. Working late has become the new normal for you; but not tonight. You have some serious plans for tonight. You need to get out. You haven’t been out with your friends since your ex left.

Setting up your new office takes most of the day. It is nearly four and you were expected to meet your friends at 7.

“Let’s get some computer work done.” You say to yourself. “Then I am leaving. Definitely.”

You have such a hard time breaking your focus from your work. You are the youngest college professor in the area and the youngest in the world to design a curriculum for any school. That wasn’t what kept you working so late, however. You were writing the curriculum for the Norse classes.

****

The keys on your computer clack rhythmically to the pace of your writing. Of course you had lost track of time. “Shit.” you mutter quickly gathering your stuff. You did this so often, you wonder why your friends even put up with you in the first place. You rush through the doorway of your office only to be greeted by your closest friend.

“I knew you’d still be here. Don’t worry. I brought you this.” She hands you a short black dress with emerald embellishments across the cleavage area, replacing fabric and a pair of thin black stilettos. “Honestly, I don’t know what I would do without you. You know what, I do. I’d be a loner who reads fantasy all day.” you say as you grab the dress and spin around heading back into your office to change. “You already do that.” Your friend snickers as she follows you into your office. “Promise me something, please.”

Here it comes again. Meet someone, it’s been too long since you and the giant asshole broke up. It would do you some good.

You can’t help but mock those words in your head, as you’ve heard them a thousand times. Or, perhaps those words were true. It has been so long since you’ve felt the touch of anything other than your own fingers, or silicone.

“Yeah, I know… meet someone… get out there. Try to find the fire again. Just because you went through a bad breakup doesn’t mean you have to be alone forever.” I sigh, zipping the dress up my side. “If you can introduce me to Loki…. That’d be great.”

Your friend sighs heavily. “Oh, come on! Loki is a fairy tale and you know it. Besides, why in the whole world would you pin the trickster god as your ideal mate?”

“Because he is most written about. His accounts range from being a trickster, a helper, a friend, an enemy. He had encounters with every god in Asgard. I’ve read about him so many times, I feel as if I know him.” You pause for a minute, remembering that Loki is just a myth and no mere man could ever be as cunning, mischievous, sinister and honest. “The few accounts on what he looks like might hint to him being the most beautiful god to ever exist, too.” you wink at your friend as she rolls her eyes. “Lets go, you goof.” She takes your hand and rushes out the door. Trailing behind her, you pray to the gods you know aren’t listening. Please, help me find someone to try with again. Someone like you, Loki.

****

“Brother, this is it! We are long overdue for a trip to Midgard.” Loki says as he pushes the doors to the great hall open. “I’ve been called upon.”

Thor looks at his brother in disbelief. “Called upon? Brother, no one calls us from Midgard any longer.”

“Ah, needn’t you worry, Brother. It is true. I heard a voice. Calling me to help find love.” Loki extends his arms at his sides and bows slightly, not removing his gaze from his brother.

“No.” says Thor. “You are not the god of love, brother, you are the god of tricks. You must be mistaken” Loki purses his lips in frustration. “I know that, but this human spoke my name. I heard it just as I hear you now.” Loki’s eyes fixed on Thor’s with burning intensity. He doesn’t know why, but he has to answer the call. Even if it isn’t specifically meant for him.

“Let us go then, brother.” Thor places his hand on Loki’s shoulder. He worries his brother has actually lost his mind this time. “I could use a night out myself. One with you at my side will be filled with mischief.”

****

The music at the club is radiating in your chest as you dance with your friend in the middle of a crowd, drink in hand and hair flipping to the beat of your movements. You are hot and sweating. Maybe this urge is enough to satisfy the cravings for a different physical activity. As the song ends you and your friend step outside for some much needed fresh air. The crisp air feels good on your flushed cheeks. Your friend lights a cigarette. “Did you see anyone in there who looked like they might be in need of an all night history lesson?” She nudges you, playfully. A smile forms between your lips. “No. I haven’t been looking. I have been focusing on my dance moves. Moving my hips might attract a man worth my time.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Your friend sighs, looking around her. She stops moving and grabs you by the arm. “Major hotties 12 O’ Clock.” Your eyes wander over to two men approaching the club entrance. The beauty of these men is astounding. Never before have you seen men look the way these two did. One man has shoulder length blonde hair, bright eyes and a chiseled physique. He is dressed in stone washed jeans and a tight fitting shirt. This man is handsome, but the other with him was more your type.

More like exactly your type.

His pale skin almost glows in the light and his dark hair matches the night sky. Their swagger is confident and almost regal. He is dressed in tight fitting black slacks and a black button up shirt. Both men are taller than the other men they pass by. Time feels as if it slows. The closer he comes to you the harder it is for you to look away. Soon, his pale blue eyes lock on yours. You can feel the heat in your cheeks return. There was heat building between your legs, too. The man offers you a crooked smirk and he walks by you, never breaking his eyes from yours.

Holy. Shit.

Your friend looks at you with a smile. “You showed interest in him. You absolutely cannot hide that.” She throws her half finished cigarette away. “We are going back inside to snag us some hunks.”

Once inside, you see the men at the bar waiting to be served. Your friend grabs your hand pulling you toward the empty space at the counter next to them. Slipping a hand at your back, she pushes you next to the dark haired man and takes her place next to the blonde. “Hey, there.” Your friend shouts over the music placing a delicate hand on the blonde man’s bicep. “We’ve never seen you here before? Are you from around here?”

Your friend knows exactly what buttons to push to get a man to crave her. You on the other hand, not so much. You look up at the dark haired man noticing his eyes are fixed on you with Interest. Your cheeks get hotter. “Hi, uh, sorry. My friend is quite bold.” You offer your hand and give your name. The man’s expression fades from attraction to amusement. He takes your hand and touches your fingers to his lips. “Great beauty is bold.” His ice blue eyes peirce yours. Your lips part to talk again, but you quickly retract… not sure how to carry on the conversation.

You peek at your friend, who is naturally chatting up the blonde man. You have to have her teach you how to not be awkward.

Staring at you still, the dark haired man leans his face close to yours. Your eyes meet again. “Would you like to dance?”

You? Dancing with him? Grinding your body against his tight black pants? Absolutely.

You smile and head towards the dance floor, not sure what has come over you, grabbing his arm. He spins around with a smile on his face to follow you. He gives a quick glance to the man who came with him and winks. You and the man reach an empty spot in the sea of people. You realize you left your drink on the bar, but you don’t care. Both of your hands are free and you feel the unstoppable urge to touch this man. Your hands reach out for his hips and you pull yourself closer to him, matching his movements. He is much taller than you, but you feel a slight twinge against your lower abdomen.

Is that… what I think it is? You think to yourself, still matching his pace. My god he is hot… no… sexy. I wonder what is under there… your thoughts are interrupted by his thin although muscular arm wrapping around your waist, pulling your bottom half closer to his. You bite your lip and grind harder against the man, causing your heartbeat to quicken.

You have to take this man home.

Rhythmically, you work your hands up his sides to his chest and then you touch his neck, breathing in his beauty. His gaze moves from the ceiling to you. His eyes look dark and mysterious in the low light of the club, but you can tell he is looking right at you. The arm that is around your waist moves to your ass, and the other soon follows.

Normally you don’t tolerate this sort of behavior, but you can’t stop him. You don’t want to stop him. You feel both hands squeeze on your ass. Biting your lip, you push your backside into his hands, inviting him to continue. He leans close to your face. “Your dress is ravishing. My favorite colors.” Through the darkness you see the man’s white teeth revealed through a devilish grin. Your heart stops for a beat. Fuck.

The music pumps on and you start grinding against him harder, in sync with the beat. This is so out of character for you. Maybe the cause for your actions is an untapped libido, or perhaps that this is the first man you’ve seen since your ex that you’re attracted to. You’re more than attracted to this man, is almost as if you tapped into your animalistic side. The music ends, but the two of you are still locked in the same position. His lips are incredibly close to your face. You didn’t notice that until now, when he spoke. “You, my dear, are an impeccable dancer. However, would you care to step outside to chat for a moment?” you nod your head and remove your hands from his body. Your hands want to betray your brain and touch him more. Your hands want to rip his clothes off, actually, and feel the skin that lies beneath his clothing. You surprise yourself with the thoughts in your mind.

His hands slide back on your waist, he drops one to his side as he ushers you from the building. “I need to let my friend know that I am stepping outside. We have this deal. If we can’t see each other we call.” you say to him as you exit the venue.

“She is enjoying herself, also” He remarks. “ In fact, he seems to be quite pleased with your friend. I’m sure they will both be joining us outside here in a moment or two.”

The two of you walk farther away from the crowd outside the door and stop to lean against the building. “I never got your name.” you say to the man. A smug grin appears on his face as his eyes scan your body. “Sweet darling, my name is not important right now. I am eager to know about you. You look as if you could use some fun. Tell me.”

You pause for a moment. Heat fills your cheeks once more. Could this be an answered prayer? No. That isn’t possible. The only thing that heard your prayer is you. The gods aren’t real. They never were, people used mythology to explain the things they didn’t understand. This is too good to be true though. Just as you start to speak, your friend and the blonde appear.

“Brother, you were right.” The blonde man exclaims. “We were long overdue for this trip.” Your friend smiles and puts her arm around you. “The two of you seem to have hit it off.” She says pointing her finger and the dark haired man. “Gentlemen, A club is no place for conversation. We have plenty of refreshments back at our place. It's just a couple of blocks from here, we could walk.” She smiles and returns to the blonde man’s side, slipping her arm through his. You feel those cold eyes on you again. As you look up to meet them, the dark haired man leans closer to you, almost touching your ear with his lips “I would be delighted to see your house.”

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #tom hiddleston #loki romance #loki smut

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vgckwb · 3 years

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P5R: Rebel Girl (A FeMC Story/P5R Rework) Chapter 26: The Past Catches Up

On Wednesday, midterms began at Shujin. The Phantom Thieves were intently answering questions, hoping to pass. The first two days passed without incident. However, Friday was full of surprises.

Ren was waiting for the train when Ann approached her. “Hey” she said.

Ren looked at her. “You don’t look so good. Are you feeling alright?” Ren put her hand up to Ann’s head. “You don’t seem to have a fever.”

“Thanks, but… I don’t know” Ann said. “I’m more worried about these tests than I have been. I’ve never done that well at them, but now they seem more important than ever.”

“Oh” Ren said. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“Let’s hope so,” Ann said. She glanced around. “I don’t know if it’s the fatigue, but I think someone’s been following me.”

Ren looked around as well. She didn’t see anyone too suspicious, but she couldn’t rule anything out. “Well, we could stick together, if that makes you feel better.”

Ann smiled. “I’d like that.” The two of them got on the subway and headed to class.

After midterms were done for the day, an announcement played over the speakers. “Attention. This is Principal Kobayakawa. All students please report to the auditorium for a special announcement.”

“Settle down” Kawakami told everyone. “This is important, so please go carefully, and don’t cause a scene.” The students did as they were told and went into the auditorium.

Principal Kobayakawa stood at the podium. “Ahem. While recent events may have been troubling, this has been in the works for a little while now. As you know, Shujin Academy has prided itself on its care for students. However, there has been something we’ve been lacking. Well we are going to rectify that. Starting today we have hired an independent student therapist. Please put your hands together for Doctor Takuto Maruki.”

The students clapped as Doctor Maruki took the stage. “Thank you everyone,” he said, adjusting the mic. Unfortunately, it slipped a little and hit him on the head. “Ow! Sorry about that. Ahem, anyway. As Principal Kobayakawa mentioned, this has been in the works for a while now. Also, I am independent, so I don’t really answer to him. I am 100% committed to helping you all with whatever problems you have. You can come to me for anything. Whether you have a serious problem, or you just need a bit of a break, I don’t care. I just want to help you as much as I can. Please welcome me to your school.”

The students began clapping. Ren overheard some of the girls around her gossip about how hot he is. Ren found it a little strange since not too long ago Kamoshida was arrested partially for wanting to have relations with his students. But Ren figured it was fine, since it was students admiring the teacher and not the other way around.

Ren looked at Maruki. From the way he spoke to the way he carried himself, he didn’t seem like a bad person. And he was independent, so he’d be willing to listen to things the school might not like or have any interest in. However, Ren got an alert on her phone. She checked it to see it was on the Phantom Thief group chat.

Sumire: Help!

Ren quickly messaged back.

Ren: Let’s meet up once this is over, OK?

Sumire: OK.

Principal Kobayakawa thanked Doctor Maruki and then let the students out. As they were leaving Kawakami stopped Ann, Ren, and Mishima. “Hold on. …” She sighed. “While visiting the therapist is generally optional, I was asked that you three visit him at least once.”

“Why?” Ann asked.

“Well…” Kawakami pointed to Ann and Mishima. “You two for your closeness with Kamoshida,” she pointed at Ren, “And you because of, well, your general circumstances.”

“I see,” Ren said. “Thank you.” They walked off.

“Well, I’m probably going to go after midterms finish up tomorrow,” Mishima said. “Right now, I’ve got to focus!”

“On midterms?” Ren asked.

“Well, kind of,” Mishima said. “But also on the Phan-site!” MIshima started walking off. He turned back and waved. “Seeya!”

Ren and Ann saw him off. They turned to each other and nodded. They started heading over to the roof. However, on their way they met up with Ryuji and Sumire by the vending machines. “Do we just want to do it here?”

“Sure, I guess” Ryuji said.

“Just make sure to keep your voice down” Ann said. “If anything comes up about our... extracurriculars, it’ll be on you.”

“Alright, alright,” Ryuji said.

Ren looked at Sumire. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Sumire was shaking a little, but she had to be brave. “That man… Dr. Maruki… he’s… he’s the therapist I went to… after Kasumi…”

The three second years were shocked. “So, Dr. Maruki is the person who suggested you act more like your sister.” Sumire nodded.

“Hm” Ren said. “I was getting a good vibe off of him too.”

“Not me,” Ryuji said. “What’s more, my homeroom teacher pulled me aside and said I practically had to visit him.”

“Ours too” Ren said.

“Mine did as well…” Sumire admitted. “But…”

Ren smiled. She walked over and hugged Sumire. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” Sumire blushed.

“Tch, I don’t care” Ryuji said, pulling out his phone. “I think we just found our next target.”

“Woah! What are you saying?” Ann said.

“This guy coerced Sumire into thinking she was her sister” Ryuji pointed out. “No way this dude’s not hiding some sinister shit.”

Morgana popped out. “But what about Madarame?”

“We don’t know the first thing about this Madarame” Ryuji retorted. “We at least have a full name here.”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to check,” Ann said.

Ryuji loaded the app. “Takuto Maruki”

The phone dinged. “Location does not exist anymore.”

“WHAT?!” Ryuji shouted in disbelief.

“Oh my” Maruki said, approaching from the woodwork. “I didn’t quite expect that.”

Ren, Ann, and Ryuji got defensive, while Sumire hid behind Ren. “What do you want?” Ren asked, full of vitriol.

Maruki smiled. “Why don’t we continue this somewhere private?” He leaned in. “Unless you want everyone to figure out you’re the Phantom Thieves.” He leaned back. “Now then, how about my office?” He turned around. Everyone there was sort of confused and on edge, but decided to follow him since he knew their secret.

They ended up in a nurse’s office. “Here we are, my office is Shujin.” He turned to the thieves. “Now, I’m assuming you have questions.” The students exchanged glances. “I understand your hesitation, and usually I don’t wish to rush things, but I think it’s be better for everyone if we were all on the same page.”

Ren looked among her cohorts and nodded. “What makes you think we’re the Phantom Thieves?”

“I guess that’s a fair place to start,” Maruki explained. “After one of the meetings setting up my arrangement with the school, I was leaving the school when I noticed the three of you appearing in an alley. Well, I guess I should say four of you.” He looked at Ren’s bag. “It's OK, you can come out.”

Morgana popped out of the bag. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Can-Can he hear me?”

“I most certainly can,” Maruki said, surprising everyone. “I’ve been aware of the existence of this other universe for quite some time now. However, recently, I gained access to it. Though it was only locked to a certain location And even more recently, it was destroyed.”

The thieves were confused by this. Maruki continued. “It happened soon after your father chewed me out for doing what I did to you Yoshizawa-san. A mysterious woman came to me and destroyed that place. I was wondering if you could tell me about that.”

The thieves looked at him. “What makes you think we’d help you?!” Ryuji asked. “I mean, you pretty much brainwashed Sumire! Why should we believe you on ANYTHING?!”

Maruki smiled. “Well, for a more concrete answer, my access to the metaverse has been cut off. I have no advantage over you there. The ball is in your court. However, even though you might not believe it, I have no ill will towards any of you, even before this”

Maruki looked at Sumire. “I have to apologize to you Yoshizawa. I really wished to help you through your sister’s death. However, it appears I was short-sighted. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I wish to convey to you that my feelings are sincere.”

Ren looked at Sumire. Sumire looked up at Ren. “Um, what do you think?” Sumire asked.

“Well, I think it’s up to you,” Ren said. “Our inclination against Dr. Maruki is because of what happened with you. I can believe all I want that he’s a good person, or that we should accept his help, but it really comes down to how you feel about him.”

Everyone was now looking at Sumire who was lost in thought. “Well… It’s complicated. While there probably could have been a better way to help me, I think it helped me somewhat.” Everyone was kind of shocked. “I mean, if I hadn’t become Kasumi for the period of time I had, I would have never found you senpai.” Ren blushed slightly.

“Meeting you is what shook me out of that,” Sumire continued. “For the first time in a while, I felt like someone was there for me that wasn’t a member of my family, or coach Hiraguchi. So I wanted you to see me for me. If I hadn’t visited Dr. Maruki, I don’t think I would have had the energy to come to school, let alone talk to you. So, I don’t necessarily hate Dr. Maruki, even though I disagree with him somewhat.”

Everyone was stunned. “Wow Yoshizawa,” Maruki said. “That’s surprisingly mature.”

“Holy shit” Ryuji said.

Ann turned to Ren. “What do you think?”

Ren thought about it. “Well, if Sumire is...OK?” she looked at Sumire. Sumire nodded. “...with Dr. Maruki, then I think we can be too.”

Ryuji sighed. “Well, if you say so. Though I’m not sure if I can trust him fully.”

“I get that,” Maruki said. “It can be hard to open up to people, especially if they’ve done something wrong. But again, I wish nothing but the best for all of you.”

They all looked at Maruki. Ren sighed. “The woman that approached you is most likely Eris. She is our direct enemy in this, and is a paragon of chaos. She believes that by causing humanity chaos something good will happen. She’s going around corrupting people to meet her goals, and we are there to stop them.”

“I see,” Maruki said, taking notes. “But I don’t remember her when I first arrived at my section of metaverse. And she destroyed it.”

“Well, that’s because that’s different,” Ann explained. “Palaces like your or Kamoshida’s don’t come from Eris. They come from a distorted desire, right Morgana?”

Morgana nodded. “Yeah. That’s another thing. A being called Yaldabaoth was originally planning on fighting us, but Eris swooped in, destroyed him, and took over his plan, while making adjustments.”

“So, you having a palace in the first place is a little hard to look past,” Ryuji explained.

“I see,” Maruki said, embarrassed. “Although, if you don’t mind, I’d like to analyze what, Takamaki-san said. A palace comes from a distorted desire. While Kamoshida was certainly distorted in such a way that made him evil, not every distorted desire can come from a place of vitriol. Am I correct in assuming that?”

The group was shocked. “Well?” Ren said, looking at Morgana.

“...He’s right,” Morgana answered. “A desire doesn’t have to be evil to be distorted.”

Ann looked at Maruki. “Well if this is what you’re claiming, then what was your desire? What not evil thing did you wish to accomplish?”

“I suppose that’s a fair question,” Maruki said. “What I intended to do was end all suffering.” The thieves were surprised, and surprised that they can still be surprised. “I felt like I was closer than ever. But then…”

“Which reminds me,” Morgana said. “You told us something that I’d like to know about.”

“You noticed it too, huh” Ren.

“Um, noticed what?” Ryuji asked.

Morgana smiled. “Well, you’re the leader. By all means.”

Ren looked at Dr. Maruki. “Earlier you said you’ve know about the metaverse even before you stepped foot in your palace. Why is that?”

“Ah” Maruki said. “What an astute observation. Yes, I have known about the metaverse for a while. In fact, I was studying it with some of my peers in the psychological field. The term used to describe this was ‘Cognitive Psience.’

We felt that since a person’s emotions helped shape their worldview, by tapping into that power, we could change the world for the better. However, there were some complications. One of my associates mysteriously died. Soon after, the whole project was shut down.”

“I see…” said Ann.

“But I didn’t want to give up,” Maruki said. “I was determined to help people. It’s why I became a psychiatrist in the first place. I felt so close, and I knew I could get closer. That’s when my palace, as you say, appeared to me.

I was confused, but I explored it. It was a laboratory, which made sense, since they were planning on building a lab, but with the project shutting down, it didn’t come to pass. Everything there was how I had imagined it. I guess that’s the power of the metaverse. But it appears that wasn’t meant to be either.”

“Huh?” Ryuji said.

“So,” Sumire spoke up, “you wish to help us?”

“Ah yes,” Maruki said. “While I can’t aid you with help from the metaverse, I can help you understand it better, and even help you use it to your advantage. I still have some of my notes. What do you say?”

The thieves looked at each other. “What should we do?” Ryuji asked.

“Well, he certainly knows his stuff,” Morgana said. “It would be nice to have someone like that on our side.”

“Plus he seems nice enough, despite everything” Ann said. “I don’t think he’d betray us.”

“Like I’ve stated, I’m fine with it as long as Sumire is,” Ren explained.

Sumire looked determined. “I think we should trust him for now.”

“Alright then” Ryuji said. They turned back to Maruki.

“We’ll agree to this,” Ren said. “But one false move…”

“Loud and clear,” Maruki said. The thieves all prepared to leave. “Oh, by the way, I’m assuming your teachers asked you to meet with me.” The thieves were again surprised. “Sorry. They told me they would do that. But as I mentioned, I am independent from the school. So, I’ll waive that. Outside of Phantom Thief business, you do not need to see me. However, I would appreciate it if you needed help.”

Ren nodded. “Very well. I’ll think about it.” They left.

“Um, you aren’t seriously thinking of going to him for help, are you?” Ryuji asked.

“I mean, maybe” Ren said. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the help you guys are giving me, but…”

Ann smiled. “It’s OK. I get it. It can be helpful to hear what other people think.”

“Yeah,” Sumire said. “And as I said, I think Maruki is helpful.”

“But what if he tries something?” Ryuji asked.”

“Well, I doubt he would,” Morgana said. “He told us his palace got destroyed.”

“Besides, I think I’m strong enough to resist it if he were,” Ren said. “I mean, I’m trying to resist Eris. I think I can handle someone she defeated.”

“An excellent point,” Morgana said.

“Well, I guess it might be worth a try,” Ryuji said.

“Yeah” said Ann. “It might be good to clear my head about a few things. You know, once midterms are over.”

“Aw crap!” Ryuji exclaimed. “I’d forgotten about midterms.”

“Well, tomorrow’s the last day,” Ren pointed out. “Does anyone want to see Maruki right away?” They all shook their heads. “OK then, so we’re going with our original plan. Once midterms are over, let’s meet up and look for info on Madarame.” They all nodded and headed home for the day.

The last day of midterms was upon them. They all tried their hardest to reach the goal of finishing. Once they did, they all met up at the subway station. “Man, I’m glad that’s over,” Ryuji said.

Morgana popped up. “Did you fail?”

“What?! No” Ryuji answered.”I think.”

“So, what now?” Sumire asked.

“Well, we gotta meet up with Jose,” Ren said. “Once we do, we can begin our investigation.”

“Yeah,” Ann said. She turned to see a poster. “Wait, hold up.”

They all looked at her. “What’s up?” Ryuji asked.

“This poster is for an art exhibition,” Ann explained.

“...OK?” Ryuji responded.

“...For Ichiryusai Madarame” Ann finished.

“WHAT?!” Ryuji said.

“Could they be one in the same?” Sumire asked.

“Probably” Ann said. “‘Madarame’ isn’t all too common of a last name.”

“Well then, let’s head out” Ren said. They all got onto the subway leading to Kosei. Once they reached the station, they headed out.

Ann began looking around. She spotted something. She grabbed Ren’s arm. “I think that’s him again.”

“Who?” Ryuji asked.

Ren looked where Ann was looking to see if she could see anything. “Someone was following Ann yesterday.”

“For real?!” Ryuji. “Grrrrrrrrr.”

“Well, if we’re all together, they might not try anything, right?” Sumire asked.

“And if they did, I’ll take care of them,” Morgana said.

“Same,” Ryuji said, cracking his knuckles. The group walked off.

Ann kept glancing back. “He’s still there.” The group kept moving. “He keeps following us.” They kept moving. “What is going on?”

“I’d like an answer to that myself,” Ren said.

“Sounds like you have a plan, senpai” Sumire said.

Ren nodded. “Follow my lead.”

A little bit later, Ann was standing in the middle of the sidewalk. The person following her approached her. Just as they were about to get close, Ann turned around, and Ren, Ryuji, and Sumire surrounded them. They found themselves face to face with a boy with blue hair and a body like a beanpole.

“Why have you been following me?!” Ann shouted at him. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Yeah man, what gives?” Ryuji added.

The boy was in shock. “Ah! Forgive me” he said, after a few seconds of silence. “I was just captured by your beauty.”

“WHAT?!” Ann screamed, blushing.

Morgana got worried. “Is she falling for that?!”

“See, I am an artist,” the boy explained. “My name is Yusuke Kitagawa. I am a second year at Kosei high. As I was on my way to school one day, I happened to spot you, and your beauty instantly captured my imagination. I must paint you!”

“Oh, um…” Ann said.

“Hold on,” Ren said. “You’re not trying anything, are you?”

“How dare you insult me,” Yusuke said. “I am a pure and noble artist. I only wish to paint her.”

“I’m only asking because we had to deal with a huge creep recently,” Ren explained.

Yusuke was curious. He then looked them over. “Wait a minute. Those uniforms. Do you by chance go to Shujin?” They nodded. “I see.” He bowed. “My apologies. I did not mean any harm. I just have a tendency of getting carried away. I hope you find it in your hearts to forgive me.”

“It’s OK…” Ann said, twirling her hair.

“Tch. What’s with this sudden change?” Ryuji asked.

“You moron!” Morgana chided. “She’s getting charmed!”

“What?!” Ryuji exclaimed. “No way!”

“Hm?” Yusuke said. He noticed Morgana. “Are you...talking to her cat?”

“Huh? Oh, uhhhhhh” Ryuji said.

“Yeah, sorry” Ren said. “I like bringing him with me, but apparently these two have a bit of trouble getting along. You know how it can be.”

“I see,” Yusuke said. “To be honest, they seem to make a most amusing pair.”

“You don’t say,” Ren said.

“YUSUKE!” A voice shouted out. A car pulled over. The window rolled down to reveal an old gentleman. “Oh my. Who are these people?”

“Ah! Sensei” Yusuke said. “Forgive me I was just so taken in.”

The man walked out. “I see. Were you thinking of painting one of them?” Yusuke nodded. “My, what a wonderful surprise.” He turned to everyone else. “You’ll have to excuse Yusuke here. He gets lost in his own world at times.”

“...It’s fine,” Ann said, blushing.

“You can’t be serious?!” Ryuji said.

Sumire looked him over. “AH!” she yelped. “I’m sorry. It’s just, my father works for Good Morning Japan. It took me a second, but you’re the famous painter Madarame, right?”

“Oh, why indeed” Madarame answered. “You know, I have an exhibit coming up soon. Tell you what, since Yusuke has taken a shine to you, I’m going to go ahead and give you each a pass for opening day tomorrow.”

Ren smiled. “It would be an honor.”

Ryuji was confused. “Wha?”

“Splendid,” Madarame said. He got out four tickets and handed them out to everyone. “Thank you everyone. Well Yusuke, we should get going. We need to make the final preparations.”

“Huh? Yes sensei” Yusuke said. He stepped towards the car, but stopped. “Um, miss,” he looked at Ann. “Will you please consider my offer?”

Ann’s face turned red. “I’ll think about it.”

“Very well,” Yusuke said. “Thank you.” He got into the car. As he sat down, a new app loaded in on his phone. The metaverse app.

While this was happening, across the street, a street artist was selling their wares. He was a burly man with black spiked hair, a white t-shirt, and green pants. After selling one of their paintings, the customer said “Thank you!”

“No problem” he replied.

“You know, you should really consider a career in art,” the customer said. “You’re really good.”

“Nah” the artist said. He glanced across the street to see Madarame talking with some kids. “I don’t think I’d be a good fit for the art world.”

“I disagree,” the customer said. “But if you don’t feel like it, there’s not much I can do, right?”

The artist turned back to them “Right. Thank you.” The customer left. The artist looked back and saw Yusuke getting into the car with Madarame. “He’s still there…” The artist decided to pick up his things and leave.

He got back to his apartment. He lived alone. He walked up to the table and slammed his fists. “That BASTARD!” He looked down to see the plans for the exhibition hall for Madarame’s exhibit. He picked them up and remembered a conversation he had last week.

“What?” he said.

His boss was standing across from him. “I said Madarame hired our company to be the security team for his exhibit. And I want you to be the head of security.” The man looked despondent. “You’ve been saying you wanted to be the head of security for a while now. I feel like this is a good opportunity. You can still do it, right?”

The man looked at his boss. He didn’t want to protect Madarame, but he needed a gig like this. “Yeah,” he sighed.

“Very well. Look over the plans and make your arrangements.”

In the present, the man was staring at the plans. “What a joke,” he said. “I have to protect the man that ruined my life?! The man who’s ruined so many other lives?! It’s disgusting!”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Eris said. The man looked up to see her.

“Who are you?!”

“Me? I’m just a person who hates injustice, and wishes to see it corrected” Eris explained.

“If you wish to see it corrected, why don’t you correct it yourself?” the man asked.

“Oh, I’d love to,” Eris said. “But I’d much rather see you do it. After all, don’t you have a bone to pick with Madarame?”

The man seemed hesitant. “I do.”

“Then I know just the thing” Eris said. She pulled out an apple. “One bite of this, and you will be given the power to deal with Madarame once and for all.”

The man was taken by surprise. “What sort of trick is this? How’d you get in here anyway?”

Eris giggled. “I am what you would call a goddess. Simply helping those in need, such as yourself, Mr. Kosuke Ogawa.” Kosuke was shocked. “I’m not asking you to worship me. Just take a bite of this apple, and all your troubles will be long gone.”

Kosuke looked at her, and then the apple. He was a security guard. He felt this was risky. But at the same time, this was his chance. His chance to stop Madarame. His chance to stop someone still under his thumb. In a way, he felt like he’d be guarding the world from Madarame.

He grabbed it and bit into it. After he swallowed, he looked enlightened. “Of course. It’s all so clear to me now.” He started laughing maniacally. “This revenge needs an artist’s flourish!”

“I’m glad to have helped,” Eris said. She then disappeared as mysteriously appeared.

#persona 5 #persona fanfiction #persona 5 royal #p5r #p5r rework #p5 rework #p5 femc #p5 #FeMC #female ren #ren amamiya #ann takamaki #Sumire #kobayakawa #sadayo kawakami #mishima #dr maruki #yusuke kitagawa #ichiryusai madarame

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thetravelerwrites · 5 years

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Wrykas (Minotaur) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Female Human/Male Minotaur Additional Tags: Exophilia, Minotaur, Sex, Oral Sex, Princess, Mercenaries, Light Dom/Sub Relationship, Chubby Reader, Reader-Insert Content Warnings: Kidnapping, Abusive Parents, Neglectful Parents, Words: 6349

A submission for @hufflesmonsters! A princess is kidnapped fairly regularly by an opposing kingdom's monarchy to spite her parents, but she comes to regard the time away from her neglectful parents as vacations. One day, a single mercenary comes to retrieve her, but a sudden snowstorm forces them to spend time alone together. Please leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

Being a princess came with perks and pitfalls. On the plus side, you got whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted it. On the down side, your country had been in a petty feud with the neighboring kingdom since before you were born, and they seemed to think you were an excellent bargaining chip to get their demands met.

The abductions started when you were young; men hired by the crown took you from your room and held you in a secure location until your parents paid the ransom. Back then they were pretty terrifying, with blindfolds and ropes. Your captors were kind, however, and treated you well.

As you aged, though, your capture turned into something of a spontaneous vacation a couple of times a year. Your abductors would come in the dead of night, wake you and let you pack a bag, lead you to a waiting carriage, complete with wine and snacks, and you’d all tease each other as they carted you off to a chalet on the border of your two kingdoms. Both you and they thought this feud was stupid and that the abductions were a joke, but they had a job to do and you understood: got to pay the bills somehow.

The hostage situation usually ended one of two ways: either your parents paid the ransom, or they sent bonehead mercenaries who weren’t aware that this was mostly a picnic for you and came in all valiant and foolhardy, and your captors had to knock them all out, dump them back over the border, and pretend you escaped in the chaos to avoid bloodshed. You’d all struck a deal early on: no blood, no tears, no widows, no orphans. A couple of bumps on the head and some bruised egos, sure, but no one died. That was the rule. If your captors ever broke that rule, you’d become a lot less cooperative.

One night, very late into autumn, you woke to hear someone tip-toe into your room. Ah, yes. It was about time.

“Ethan?” You called.

“Yes, My Lady. It’s time,” You heard his voice call. Ethan was an older gentleman and was your first captor, gentle and accommodating, and he always oversaw your care during the abductions. He was the closest thing you had to a best friend. It was a shame you only saw him a few times a year.

“Finally,” You said, leaping out of bed and throwing on a dressing gown. “I’ve had a bag packed for weeks. You’re terribly late this season. I’ve been dying to get out of here.”

He chuckled. “My apologies, Lady, the opposing crown has been unusually reasonable this year. But it always comes back around, doesn’t it?”

“Thank the gods,” You replied, grabbing a few things from your vanity table. “I don’t know what I’d do without these trips abroad. Another day of my mother fussing about my ‘healthy appetite’ and I’ll go batty. I hate this place. Any time I can get away is a blessing.”

Ethan nodded knowingly. You’d complained to him many a time about your parents haughty nature and constant criticism of everything about you, from your weight to how you dress to your relaxed and casual attitude toward the servants.

Your parents were the worst sort of nobility, the kind people fawned over when in their presence but mocked scathingly behind their back. They were proud and arrogant and hard to please, and you were a prime example of everything they disliked. You took it as a compliment, but you did have to admit that their relentless judgment was wearing, and any break from the ferocious nagging was a welcome relief.

“Ready, Lady?” Ethan asked.

“Yes,” You said, taking his proffered hand. “And what did I tell you? You can call me by my name.”

“Nope,” He said, grinning. “You may not care about the propriety of your station, but I’d rather not have my tongue cut out, if you please.”

You sighed. “Fine, fine. Let’s just get out of here.”

There was a tunnel under the castle that a previous monarch had used to escape during a coup, and it was little known by anyone besides you. This tunnel had been discovered during your first abduction when your kidnappers hid from guards, and now it was your favorite means of escaping the castle. It led out to the woods a safe distance from the walls, where guards patrolled, and made it easy to get away.

It had taken you much effort to keep the entrance and exit hidden over the years, since your parents kept trying to discover how the kidnappers kept getting in and out so easily, but you had managed to keep it secret.

When you both were safely inside and the entrance was sealed, Ethan lit a torch and the two of you made your way out into the woods. Once there, he led you to the waiting carriage and ushered you inside. He jumped up into the driver’s box with Ira, another regular who you were friendly with, and snapped the reins, jolting the carriage forward and toward your secret hideaway.

It was nearly mid-day by the time you arrived there, and you had fallen asleep on the way. Ethan gently shook you awake and took your bag, offering you a hand as you stepped down. Ah… if only he weren’t married.

“How long do you think I’ve got?” You asked him as he opened the door to the perfectly kept chalet.

“Oh, likely a week. I mean, they know where the chalet is, but at this point, finding mercenaries that we haven’t beaten up will be difficult.”

“Wonderful,” I said, clapping my hands and opening my luggage. “I can’t wait to get settled and relax for a while.”

“We’ve got guards patrolling the perimeter. If there’s any trouble, we’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, Ethan,” You said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You and your men are my best boys. If I ever become queen, you lads are definitely hired as my Queen’s Guard.”

He grinned and bowed, leaving you to get comfortable.

That evening, most of the boys who weren’t out guarding the perimeter sat with you for a full dinner and a card game. You took Tebin for every coin he was worth, and Jos won it all back with a smug grin on his wide face. Ruik got drunk and tried wearing your dressing gown, but being a goblin, it trailed several feet behind him as he moved and he tripped over it constantly, making the chalet shake with laughter. The boys may have been hardened mercenaries, but they always had the best booze and sure knew how to show a lady a good time.

Around midnight, when things were winding down, there was some commotion outside in the distance. All the men got grim looks on their faces, except for Ruik, who was passed out on a footstool, and pulled out their weapons. You pulled your own short sword from under the mattress and leveled it at the door. The sword had been a gift on your thirteenth birthday from the lads, and each one had taken it upon themselves to show you a trick or two with it.

“Ethan!” Gern called. He was the only orc on the team. “You better get out here! We’ve got a spot of trouble!”

“What’s going on?” Ethan called through the door.

“Big fella took out the perimeter guard. They ain’t dead, but their gonna be limpin’ tomorrow. Big bastard says he won’t hurt nobody else if you come out and have a chat with him. Says he knows you.”

“Ask him his name!” Ethan responded.

There was a few seconds of muffled conversation, and Gern called back, “Wrykas!”

Ethan’s eyes widened and he sheathed his sword. “Wrykas?” He said in an undertone. “Holy shit, I thought he was dead.” He turned to you. “Stay here, lass, I’ll sort this out.” He looked at the other lads. “Keep her safe.”

The others nodded sternly and tightened the grip on their various weapons. The lot of you waited tersely as Ethan talked to the newcomer, unable to hear what they were saying. After a moment, Ethan came back in and instructed everyone to lower their weapons. The boys did so reluctantly. You lowered your own sword, but kept it in hand.

Ethan came back into the cottage, followed by an absolutely massive minotaur that had to duck in order to get his horns in the door. You were taken aback by his size and coloration. You’d seen minotaurs before, but this one was striking. He had white fur from the tip of his nose to the top of his head, and also down his chest, but his ears and eyes were brown, and his neck, back, and shoulders were covered in black fur. There were white and brown speckles, like freckles, on his shoulders.

Oh no… he’s cute.

Ethan slapped Wrykas on the shoulder. “This is an old army buddy of mine, Wrykas.” Ethan then introduced all of the gang.

“And I assume this little lady is the princess I’ve been hired to retrieve?” The minotaur asked.

“No! Already?” You whined, tutting. “Damn it. I was hoping for at least a few days of peace and quiet.”

Wrykas snorted, seemingly confused. “You don’t… want to go back?”

“Hell no! I hate it there. These ‘abductions’ are the only time I get to be myself and not have to worry about my parents bullshit. You’re ruining my vacation, you dick!”

Wrykas’s head rocked back in surprise. Whatever he expected you to say to him, that wasn’t it.

You groaned and began packing your things. “Did you bring the ransom?”

“I… no, their Majesties hired me to retrieve you. My skill is apparently something to be commended because they sought me out specifically.”

“Well, considering you took out four of Ethan’s men, there must be some truth to it.” You took out a sack of gold from your bag that was enough to both cover the ransom and buy the boys a few shiny new toys as well, and tossed it to Ethan. He snatched it from the air with a wink.

“You have the ransom?” Wrykas asked.

“Of course,” You scoffed. “These guys have mouths to feed. I’m not going to let their babies go hungry because my parents and the neighboring monarchy are having a twenty-five-year temper tantrum.”

“You’re… not what I expected from speaking with the crown,” Wrykas said.

“That’s not surprising,” You replied dryly as you help Ethan and the men get their gear together. “My parents don’t know anything about me. They haven’t bothered to know me since I was a small child.”

“Well,” Wrykas said, turning to Ethan and putting his hand on his old friend shoulders. “It’s the middle of the night. There’s no reason for your gang to move out now. You can get a fresh start in the morning.” He turned back to you. “We can, too.”

You sighed. “Well, I guess one full day of freedom is better than nothing.” You fluffed out your bed, preparing to get in it. “Ethan will show you where the men sleep. Be civil while you’re in there.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him, lass, no worries,” Ethan said, and you nodded. Ethan led the lads out behind Wrykas, though they were all still glaring at him tersely.

The rest of the night followed without incident, beyond Ruik climbing onto the foot of your bed, still wearing the dressing gown, and falling asleep at your feet like a puppy

The next morning, just after breakfast, the boys got their gear packed and ready to go. You’d miss them, like always, but they had other jobs to do and families to look after. They couldn’t be your boys all the time. They were other people’s boys, too.

As they were getting ready to head out, you leaned in close to Ethan and whisper, “Is this guy alright?” You jerked your head back at Wrykas. “Tell me the truth.”

“He’s a decent sort,” Ethan whispered back. “At least, he was in the army.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Fifteen years? Something like that. Before I left to become a sell sword.”

You fixed him with a wry expression. “Fifteen years is plenty of time for a person to change.”

Ethan wasn’t paying attention. He was looking down at you with a fond expression. “You were the first job I took, you know?”

You cocked your head and smiled. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah,” He said. “I didn’t know you were a child, though. They just told me to take the neighboring kingdom’s princess and hold her in a secure location. When I realized you were a child, I almost quit.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He shrugged a little and looked sheepish. “I’m ashamed to say I needed the money. I’d just had my first girl and we needed food.”

“And look at us now,” You said, smiling. “Best friends twice a year.”

He laughed. “Yeah. Life is weird.”

“So see you next spring, then?” You asked.

“If they don’t send us, we’ll come on our own, just so’s I can win back that sack of gold you took off me last night.”

You grinned. “Good luck with that. Kiss your girls for me,” You told him.

He pulled you into a bear hug. “I will,” he replied with a smile. “You look after yourself back at that prison. Don’t let your wardens get you down.”

You smiled back and nodded, pulling your cloak tighter around you against the late autumn chill. You then moved on to the others to give them hugs and kisses on the cheek. Wrykas sat on the woodcutting stump, watching all this happen.

The gang was off then, waving back at you as they left, and you watched them disappear around the bend and out of sight. Sighing sadly, you turned to your new companion, eyeing him with some skepticism.

“Hands to yourself,” You said. He put up his hands and raised his eyebrows in acquiescence. You then went back into the chalet to pack.

He stood with a shoulder braced on the doorframe, watching you, and folded his arms. “You say you expected to be here for several days?”

“Yep,” You said with a sigh. “I usually have a few days, either with the boys or by myself.” You stopped for a moment and reminisced. “There was one year where I had three whole weeks. Gods. Those were the best weeks of my life.”

“Why do you call them boys?” He asked curiously. “The youngest of them has to be at least five years your senior.”

“Because…” You shrugged. “They’re… my boys. My friends. What else would I call them?”

“They do kidnap you.”

“It’s not kidnapping if I want to go. It’s more like a rescue.”

He was silent for a moment, then walked over and took the dress you were packing from your hands.

“Do you really hate it there so much?” He asked.

“Yes,” You replied venomously.

“Why? You’re a princess. You live in a castle. You have servants waiting on you hand and foot. What’s so bad about that?”

You sighed again and turned to sit on the bed. “What was your life like, growing up?”

He seemed surprised by the questions and sat down next to you, his eyes distant.

“I grew up on a farm. It was backbreaking work and we barely raised enough to keep ourselves fed, let alone sell anything. Five minotaur boys is a lot of mouths to feed.”

“You have four brothers?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” He said. “They’re all still on the farm with my parents, but I couldn’t stand farm work. I wanted more. More money, more freedom, more acclaim, just… more, you know? More than the life of a farmer.”

“But you’re family? What were they like? Did they love you?”

His brow furrowed. “Of course they loved me, they were my family.”

“You’ve never wondered? You’ve never had reason to think they didn’t love you?” You pressed.

“No, never.” He squinted at you. “Is that how it is for you?”

You took a deep breath and released it slowly. “My parents’ marriage was arranged. More to the point, they really disliked each other and didn’t want to marry, but the political climate was tense and their marriage was the only thing preventing a war. Their dislike of each other turned to absolute hatred pretty quickly. The only reason I even exist is because they were expected to create an heir, and I couldn’t even manage to be born a boy.” You stared out the window at the fast moving clouds. “A disappointment from the beginning.”

“Gods,” He said softly, and you looked over and saw he was staring at you with a gentle expression, which did a weird thing to your stomach. “I can’t imagine a parent hating their own child.”

“Oh, my father is indifferent to the point of failing to acknowledge my existence most of the time. I don’t think he cares enough to actually hate me. That’s all my mother. When I was young, she used to have cute ‘pet names’ for me and offer ‘helpful suggestions’ that I know now were outright insults.”

“What sort of things would she say?” He asked.

“That I was her fat little piggy, that I’d eat my weight if she didn’t watch me, that if I stood straighter, I would look less like a gargoyle stalking it’s prey, that if I wore my hair up, people wouldn’t notice how mousy and stringy it was, that if I wore rouge and lip color, I’d look less like a rotting corpse. Things like that.”

“What a vile woman,” He said, scowling. “She seemed unpleasant when I met with her, but I didn’t realize how truly awful she was.”

“She’s not exactly secretive about it. The castle staff hates her. I’d know; I spend more time with them that I do with my parents, which is another point of contention.” You stretched and stood. “But, I guess there’s nothing for it. They’re waiting. I might as well get this over with.” You reached for the dress he was holding, but he didn’t let go.

“Actually, that’s what I was coming to talk to you about,” He said, pointing out the open door. He stood and beckoned you to follow him, and you did so. The fast moving clouds you’d seen out the window were growing dark.

“A storm?” You asked him.

“Not just a storm,” He replied, narrowing his eyes and flaring his nostrils. “Do you smell it?”

“Smell?”

“The change in the air. There’s a cold front coming. I’d bet anything the temperature is going to keep dropping. We’ll likely be up to our knees in snow by midnight.”

“Oh,” You said. “So… what do we do?”

“Wait it out,” He replied, looking down at you with a sly smile. “Looks like your vacation just got extended.”

You actually gave him a real smile then, trying hard not to bounce on your heels in excitement.

“Your firewood is low. I should cut some more before the snow starts,” He said.

“Alright,” You told him. “How much is in the men’s quarters?”

“Not sure,” He admitted. “Would you mind checking?”

“Alright,” You said, turning.

The chalet was split into two rooms that were not connected; in order to get from room to room, you had to go outside from one door and go inside through another. You’d never actually been in the men’s quarters before. There had never really been a reason to before now. When you went in, you were actually a little shocked at the sight of it.

It was as large as your own room, but that’s where the comparisons ended. Where your room was bright and decorated and had food and comforts aplenty, this room was completely bare. The floor was cold stone, there was a dark hearth at the end of the room and a stack of furs and threadbare blankets neatly folded in the corner. There were some shelves with jars of preserves, and a container of salted meat. That was it.

Gods, you had no idea they were sleeping in these conditions. Why hadn’t they said anything? You’d have sprung for beds and good blankets. You made up your mind with a frown to return here in a few weeks and leave some surprises for their next stay.

Next to the hearth, you saw a small pile of firewood, enough only for a few hours. Clutching your cloak, you ducked back outside. And stopped short.

Wrykas had removed his sleeveless tunic and was chopping wood shirtless. You could see the muscles in his back move against his skin as he raised the axe and brought it down to split the logs.

No.. no, no… Not good…

“There’s not much in there,” You called to him, smacking yourself mentally to pull yourself out of his obliques.

“I’ll cut up some extra, then,” He said, casually, bending to pick up another log and put it up on the stump, his arm flexing as it moved.

It was time to go do something that… was not slobbering over your would-be rescuer, so you decide to start on lunch.

Wrykas had been right. No sooner had he finished the wood that snow began to fall, softly at first, but getting heavier by the minute. He made quick work of stacking the wood next to your hearth and was surprised when you handed him a steaming bowl of soup.

“Thanks,” He said. “I wouldn’t have guessed you knew how to cook.”

“Cause I’m a princess?” You asked wryly. “I told you, I spend more time with the servants and kitchen staff than I do at galas or grand balls. If I had a proper kitchen, I could cook literally anything.”

“Full of surprises,” He said, winking at you. He was still shirtless. You keep your eyes on your soup and tried to keep from staring.

Night fell, and with it the came the storm Wrykas had warned you about.

“I should go start the fire in the men’s quarters,” Wrykas said.

“Actually,” You said, reaching out to stop him. “Why don’t you sleep in here tonight? Even with the fire, it’s bound to be terribly cold in there, and even with your tolerance, you’ll be freezing.”

He laughed. “I appreciate your concern, Lady, but I’ve slept in worse conditions.”

“Please,” you said, keeping your grip on his arm. “I insist.”

“You’re sure?” He asked, and you nodded. He looked startled, but replied, “Alright. If you wish.”

“Would you mind turning so I can change for the evening?” You asked him.

“Not at all,” He said, turning to face the wall.

You took off your restricting skirted bodice with a relieved sigh. You mother insisted you wear them to “maintain a semblance of a figure despite your unfortunate size,” so they were the only outerwear you had. You’d go around in your shift all day if it didn’t make the boys blush. They were more of a family to you than your own family, so you didn’t want to make them uncomfortable unnecessarily.

Wrykas, however…

You decided not to put on a nightdress or a dressing gown, and stayed in the sheer shift you wore under your outer clothes. You also took your hair out of it’s brain and let it hang freely around your shoulders. You felt a little self-conscious about your body and weight, but you didn’t care. You wanted to be comfortable.

“I’m finished,” You said. He turned and opened his mouth to say something, but when he saw you, no sound came out of his mouth. He just stood there, staring, and not saying anything.

You suppressed an urge to cover yourself. “Everything alright?” You asked him.

He jumped as if someone had smacked his mouth, and closed it. “Yes, sorry. I was… um… caught off guard.”

You snorted. “By what?”

He cleared his throat. “You… uh… you look nice.”

You blinked a few times. “I just took my hair down and I’m wearing less clothing. I didn’t do anything to look nice.”

“You still look nice,” He said, scratching his neck and looking at the ground.

“Well… would you like to play a card game?” You asked him.

“Actually, I’m a bit tired. I spent most of yesterday traveling here and I didn’t sleep well. I was thinking of turning in early, if that’s okay with you.”

“Oh, sure, yes, of course,” You replied, going to your bed and pulling back the coverlet. When you turned back, you saw him laying out a fur on the ground.

“What are you doing?” You asked him.

He looked at you, then the fur, and then back at you in confusion. “Laying out my bed?”

“Don’t be silly,” I said, patting the bed. “The bed is big enough for four people. There’s no reason for you to sleep on the floor. Come on.”

He visibly gulped. “Are you--”

“Get up here!” I said.

He smirked at me. “So demanding, princess. I wonder if anyone’s ever told you ‘no’ before.”

“Are you going to be the first?” You asked him, a hand on your hip.

He snorted and picked up the fur, laying it over the back of a chair. He put a few more logs in the hearth and extinguished the lanterns before coming to the bed. You scooched over to accommodate him. Gods, he was warm.

At first, you maintained a respectable distance apart, but as the night got colder, you found yourself moving closer and closer to Wrykas. If he felt you moving, he gave no sign.

The smell of him, his warmth, the memory of his muscles as he swung the axe, flooded your senses, and you could feel the rising tension in your body.

“Are you awake?” You asked softly.

“It is rather hard to sleep with a beautiful woman lying so close to me,” He said quietly.

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “You don’t have to make jokes.”

He turned over and braced himself on his elbow, looking down at you with a frown. Did he have to be shirtless all the time? “What are you talking about?”

You didn’t answer. You tried to roll over, but he stopped you.

“Do you think I was joking when I said you were beautiful?” He asked.

“Weren’t you?”

“No,” He said seriously. You couldn’t help but notice that his hand was creeping up your arm.

“I’m plain and unappealing,” You told him.

“Bullshit,” He said. “You have the loveliest eyes of anyone I’ve ever seen. You hair looks like silk in the firelight. Your skin is so soft, it’s like you bath in lotion. I’ve never felt skin so soft.”

“I… I’m fat,” You said, your voice wavering.

“So what? There’s nothing wrong with your size. What about that makes you less attractive?”

“Ask my mother, she’ll tell you all about it,” You said sourly.

“Your mother is a angry shrew who hates everything; what does her opinion matter? I think you’re gorgeous.”

You looked up at his sweet brown eyes, looking down at you with no deception or guile, and your heart thumped harder.

“You mean it?” You asked him in a hushed whisper. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Yes,” He said simply.

You didn’t even think about it. You lifted your head and kissed him. He kissed you back enthusiastically. He wasted no time in touching you; your stomach, your hips, your breasts. He slowly drew the underdress up and over your head, leaving you nude in the bed. He pulled the covers down so that he could look at your body.

He got up and pulled off his trousers, his member already fully erect. It was black and speckled, like his shoulders. If it weren’t for the size of it, you’d have called it cute.

He got back into the bed and knelt between your knees, his cock bobbing and pulsing as he soaked in the sight of you. You were doing the same to him, greatly admiring his hard, well-defined, multi-colored body.

He put his hands under your knees and pulled them up and apart, staring hungrily at what lay between. He lay kisses up your thighs, alternating with each one, until he reached that place that ached with want.

His tongue came out and pressed itself to your slit, and it was still. It didn’t move. You moaned in both pleasure and anticipation, but he pulled away.

“Hey!”

He crawled up your body and smirked at you. “No one has ever told you what to do, have they?”

“Besides my mother? No. But I don’t listen to her.”

“Would you listen to me?” He asked.

“What do you have in mind?” You replied curiously.

His smirk widened and he lay on his back with his hands behind his head. “Why don’t you take care of me the first?”

You got up and took his length in you hand. His body jerked at the first touch and he grunted, but he relaxed as you pumped him slowly. You bent your head and licked the flat head, and he grunted again.

He was as apparently as impatient as you were. He put his hand in your hair and gently pushed your head down, and you sucked him into your mouth. He was too big to take him all in, so you used both hands to massage the rest. He kept his hand on your head and applied gentle pressure on it as you sucked. He groaned and grunted, making you wetter.

He pulled your hair up a little to signal you to stop. He then pounced on you, flipping you on your stomach and laying you flat against the bed. He kissed down your back and ran his hands over your bottom, spreading your legs as wide open as he could with you in this position. He stuck one of his large fingers inside you, and you gasped.

“Mmm,” He purred. “You’re just right.”

“I can’t wait, please,” You begged. “Please, Wrykas.”

“A princess begging?” He said, and you heard a smile in his voice. “I think I like that. Do it again.”

“Please, Wrykas, please, please,” You said, over and over. You felt him nudge your entrance, and your begging increase in pitch and frequency. He pushed himself inside slowly, and you cried out, gripping the sheets.

“Say thank you,” He purred into your ear as he began to move inside you.

“Thank you, Wrykas,” You breathed.

“Louder,” He said.

“Thank you, Wrykas!”

He began to move faster, putting his hands over yours and gripping them as he did. He lay his head next to yours so you could hear his heavy breathing and moans. Gods, it was hot.

You cried out loudly, and the put one of his hands over your mouth, muffling you. You were right next to his large ears, and your shrill cried of pleasure were likely painful.

He sped up, and your screams of pleasure increased. You could feel yourself riding up to that peak, feeling your body tense as the wall of ecstasy, crying out against his hand.

His grunts got faster more intense, and you could feel from his pulsating inside you that he was close too. Your legs began to tremble as the wave crashed over you. He kept up the pace as your pleasure ebbed, then abruptly pulled out and released all over your bottom and back, snorting and grunting and bellowing.

He collapsed forward, braced on his hands so he didn’t fall in to the mess he’d made, and huffed to get his breath back. You felt the warmth drift across your back every time he exhaled, and it made your spine tingle.

“You alright?” You asked him breathlessly.

He laughed and kissed your shoulder. “I’m lovely.” You felt him raise up and slide off the bed. “Wait there, I’ll get you cleaned up.”

You opened on eye and watched him walk naked to the pot of washing water that you kept close to the fire so that it would stay warm and dunked a rag into it. He rung it out and brought it back, and you admired the view as he did with a side smile.

Once he’d cleaned you, and wiped himself off as well, he got back into the bed and pulled you against him. He kissed your face until you fell asleep.

You passed the next few days of the storm in bed, blissfully wrapped up in the best lovemaking of your life. He took control, and to your surprise, you loved it. You loved being told what to do during sex. You loved following his commands. It was thrilling.

Eventually, the storm began to die down, and your spirits started to dampen.

Wrykas noticed. “What’s the matter?”

“When the storm blows over, I have to go back,” You said sadly, laying your head back against his chest.

He put his arms around you and lay his cheek on the top of your head.

“Have you ever considered running away?” He asked you.

“Run away?” You asked in return, swiveling to look at him in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Leave. Go somewhere else. Another kingdom. My parent’s farm is in Farrowville, you could go there. They’d take care of you.”

You looked at him in shock. “You want me to live with you?”

“Not with me, I don’t live there,” He said. “I actually don’t have any sort of permanent residence, but I visit them often between jobs. They’re very loving people. They’d take good care of you.”

“You’re serious,” You said. “You’re really talking about running.”

“Why not?” He asked. “It’s clear your parents don’t value you. Hell, it shouldn’t be so easy to steal you away twice a year. They haven’t strengthened their guards or made arrangements for your protection. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear they were behind your abductions, maybe even made some kind of deal with the opposite kingdom disguised as a political dispute, just to get you out of their sight for a while.”

Your head rocked back at the thought. It had never occurred to you before, but now that he had said it out loud, it made perfect sense. Wow. They really did hate you, didn’t they?

“You’re sure your family won’t mind taking me in?” You asked, suddenly nervous about the prospect of a whole new life.

“Not at all. They really are wonderful people.” He sighed with a smile on his face. “I love my family, just not the way they live. I just wasn’t born to be a farmer.”

You smiled at his smile, as gentle as it was.

“The house is rather small, and they will expect you to earn your keep, but their not harsh or cruel. I’m sure they’ll love you.”

“I’m not worried about the work…” You said slowly, looking around the chalet. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes,” He said, taking your hand. “You’ll be with kind people who will care for you, and I’ll see you all the time.”

“Is that something you want?” You asked him playfully.

He smirked wryly and kissed you hard. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

You bit your lip. “Yes, I will.”

“That’s my princess. Say yes.”

You smiled and pressed your face into his shoulder. “Yes.”

Three months passed with Wrykas’s family, and it was the happiest you’d ever been. Wrykas’s parents were just as kind and loving as he told you they’d be, and his brothers were proper country gentlemen, always asking if you needed help or if there was anything they could do for you.

Wrykas visited at least once a week, usually bring back coin or furs or other spoils from his work. Sometime back, he had gone to inform Ethan and his gang what had happened, so every so often he came back with gifts and trinkets from your boys. You missed them, but you were finally happy.

Then, Wrykas showed up at the farm with Ethan and the gang in tow. you were immediately alarmed.

“What’s going on?” You asked, dropping the hoe you were using. “What’s happened?”

“Your parents have been deposed,” Wrykas said. “They’ve been sent into exile. Most of the people in your kingdom believe you dead, so there was an uprising. They felt that since the crown couldn’t protect you, how could they possibly protect the people.”

“That’s great news!” You exclaimed, but Ethan stopped you.

“There’s also bad news. With your parents gone, there’s a power vacuum that other members of your extended family are trying to fill. You’re the heir. If you went back, you could take the throne. Your right to it is beyond contest.”

“That’s true,” You said, rubbing your chin. “I could finally end these petty laws my parents put into place and get the country back on track.” You slapped Ethan on the arm. “You and your gang still want to be my Queen’s guard?”

Ethan blinked at you. “You were serious about that?”

“Hell yes, I was serious. You and the boys and your families will all move into the castle and replace all the up-tight, snooty ladies-in-waiting my mother appointed for me. You in?”

Ethan looked to the lads, who all grinned excitedly. “We’re in, lass. We’re with you all the way.”

You looked up at Wrykas, kissed him, and smirked. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” He asked quizzically.

“Remember when we first met and you said you wanted more from life?”

He smiled, still a little confused. “Yeah.”

“How does ‘prince’ sound to you?” You asked with a big smile.

His face split into a wide grin. “Sounds like something I was born to do.”

“Good,” You said, putting your arms around his neck. “Then let’s get to our coronation.”

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