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bbsmuts · 2 months

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Summer Getaway ft. EVERGLOW Yiren

A/N: This is a pitch I got from a friend outside of Tumblr, and it took me a long time to write since I’ve been working and planning the wedding, sorry about that. I have no doubt that this will become second-to if not more popular than Field Trip. I don’t have a lot to say about it so as not to spoil anything, so here we go.

-상훈

Length: 7.5k

Possible TW: Spanking, choking, domination, dom/sub kink

It had been a long senior year at Hanyang University. Very, very long.

With a major in psychology, a minor in health studies, and a hopeless career path, classes had been hard. I hadn’t even had my best friend, Yiren, in classes with me.

Yiren and I were more than friends. We had been dating for a little more than nine months, but she was still my best friend. She was not only exactly the type of girl I was interested in, but the exact type of friend I wanted to keep close. It had been with great disappointment that I had found out that my girlfriend would not be in classes with me at the beginning of the year. She would have been the only way psychology would be in any way interesting.

But now the year was over. A buddy of mine had offered me and Yiren his mountain cabin for the summer. He wasn’t going to be using it, he and his family were on vacation, so he would be touring Europe with his parents and sister.

The cabin, we found out when we arrived there, was a palatial, stone brick château with three stories and a balcony on the second. The balcony overhung the door, two large stone pillars supporting the structure. It had an very antiquated feel to it, though the sound structure still held up. My friend had told me it was over 200 years old, which I believed from the look of it. Whether it was 2 years old or 2000 though, I was happy to be here.

“It looks nice, doesn’t it oppa?” Yiren asked, arms wrapped around my arm, as we stood there and surveyed the cabin.

“Yeah, it does. Old, but very nice.”

“Three stories…wow.” She marveled at the sheer height of the place. “That's more than my house has. Come on, let's go inside.”

I slid the key into the lock and turned it, opening the door to reveal the interior.

It gave a very cozy, log-cabin-ish vibe. The blinds were shut, allowing very little daylight in. The lamps had turned on the moment we entered, dimming slightly once we shut the door. Plush rugs covered just about every square inch of the vast living room, where soft chintz armchairs and smooth leather couches sat, pillows arranged invitingly. The fireplace could have allowed three grown men ample sitting space, and the overhanging limestone mantle was decorated with ornate wood carvings. Mounted on the wall just above the mantle was the biggest TV I had ever seen, at least 85 inches across.

To the left of the fireplace was a bathroom, through the open door of which I caught a glimpse of a gold-rimmed mirror.

The rather titanic kitchen was a chef’s dream; the walls were bedecked with cabinets, drawers, and shelves full of cooking equipment. Two large ovens with stovetops sat alongside a dishwasher, and on top of its counter were a couple of microwave ovens. A kettle, coffee maker, waffle iron, iron griddle, and a shelf of teas, coffees, hot chocolates and various other drink mixes sat along another. Four more long shelves along the opposite wall held just about every kind of alcohol I could have asked for; bottles of whiskey, vodka, rum, gin, various liqueurs (fruit flavors like coconut and orange), tequila, port, Hennessy, and margarita sat assorted on them. Another, smaller shelf held cooking sherry, brandy, and bourbon. A wine rack nearby held several bottles and, I was surprised to see, one bottle each of Petrus 2012 (costs about $30k in real life), Armand Rousseau Chambertin Grand Cru ($19k), Versos Amontillado ($13k) and Vieux Chateau Certan Pomerol ($6k, and all of these are ones I’ve had in real life).

“Wow,” I said, taking out the Petrus and examining it. “I guess his family is rich.”

“What makes you say that?” Yiren asked while looking at the coconut liqueur.

“The fact that they have a bottle of wine in here that costs about thirty thousand dollars, and a few other expensive ones.”

“Huh, make sense.”

After looking into the pantry, which was the size of a walk-in closet and had enough food to feed a small town, we made our way to the staircase to upstairs. Six bedrooms took up this floor. We went straight to the master, which was as large as a neighborhood cul-de-sac.

The bed’s size could be compared to that of a midieval portcullis, with a deluxe king size mattress and nightstands on either side. A few dozen pillows were laid delicately across it, each with its own gold-laced pillowcase. An intricately carved wooden frame with a canopy structure and drapes held up the mattress. A pair of French doors were built in on the opposite wall from the door, which led out to the balcony, which spanned about twenty feet. Gorgeous scenery was what I laid my eyes on when I looked through the doors, a great view of the surrounding mountains and forest. The bathroom was off to the left from the entrance and Yiren made a beeline for it the moment we entered the room.

I followed her inside and was stunned. The same gold-framed mirror stretched across the wall, with three sinks and a vanity under it. White LEDs rimmed it, lighting up the bathroom when Yiren walked in.

“Oooh!” She squealed, looking around excitedly. I knew well by this point that the bathroom was her favorite and most valued part of a house, so it was always what she looked at with the most judgement. But she found nothing to criticize about this one, and looked very pleased to have access to it for the next two months.

“Like it?” I inquired, amused at her expression. “I’d say it’s pretty impressive.”

“Tell your friend I love it!” She said, positively radiating joy and excitement. “This is amazing!”

She ran to me and hugged me, then went to look around again.

I took a look into one of the drawers below the mirror and saw a vast array of hair and skin care products, no wonder my friend had good skin and hair.

Beyond the mirror space, there was the tub, which she was already scrutinizing. It held the same old feel with the weathered stone slabs making up the rim, but the pristinely white jacuzzi tub looked like it had been crafted yesterday. Bordering the bathtub was a large glass shower, with a rainfall showerhead on the ceiling and a nozzle clipped to the wall just below it, with multiple different kinds of shampoo, body wash, shower gel, and conditioner. A closet was off to the left of the door into the room, and after appraising the tub and shower we made our way to it. It was as big as the kitchen downstairs, and that was saying something. Multiple racks full of clothes were set into their pole grooves, and several racks of shoes rested on the floor. They weren’t ours, so we didn’t mess with them.

The floor above that was just one enormous game room. Pool, air hockey, foosball, mini golf, and several others were strewn around. A walled-off area seemed to be designated to archery and airsoft target practice, something I approved of. Another bathroom was at the far end, something I didn’t need to explore again. After looking around for a bit, we went back to my car to unload our baggage.

The cabin was about ten miles from any kind of civilization, which made for a nice and secluded area for a summer getaway, but it would be a bit of a pain in the ass driving back and forth through the unpaved roadway to the nearest town. But we had brought food, and there was food in the house, so we were fine for the time being.

“Oppa?”

I heard Yiren’s voice call from upstairs a while later.

“Yeah?” I called back.

“Are you up for a hike? I hear they have great trails up here.”

“Sure, I’m down.”

I got up off the couch and went up there to see her.

“You did bring the hiking boots, didn’t you?” She asked, seeing me upstairs.

“Yes, of course. We can’t go to a mountain lodge without hiking boots.”

“True. Hold on for a minute, I have to change.”

She disappeared into the master bedroom and the sounds of rustling clothes could be heard from inside. I leaned my head over a bit to see past the doorway and found her raised eyebrows staring back at me while she slipped off her jeans, taking her panties with them.

“Peeping, oppa?” Her playful voice sounded as she turned away to her bag, and I would have challenged a Buckingham Palace guard not to look as she bent over slightly to retrieve her leggings.

I walked slowly into the room where she was rummaging in her suitcase and stopped behind her as she straightened up, leggings in hand, and placed my hands on her waist. She leaned backwards into my touch and sighed as I stroked her hips.

“Oppa, don’t tease me…”

I paid this no attention and moved my hands lower, sliding my palms over her naked thighs.

“Stop it, we’re going to hike, wait until later.”

Reluctantly, I paid her some heed and went to the dresser to get my bag and keys while she got dressed. And thus, a few short minutes of driving later, we arrived at the entrance to the trail.

…

The trail was nice and peaceful, with flat paths and beautiful scenery. It was rather tranquil, with the occasional squirrel or chipmunk darting across the rocky path in front of us. But of course, Yiren couldn’t let me enjoy the little things like that, she had to wear something skintight on both halves, and had to walk in front of me, which distracted me from any of the scenery.

So it was with slightly exerted legs and a straining bulge that I completed the trail, a fact Yiren was perfectly aware of.

Mind almost numb with lust by the time we got back into the care due to her deliberately dropping her phone and bending over to pick it up, I started the engine of my car and drove away toward the cabin.

I was again surprised by its immense size even though I had seen it an hour previously. We walked to the door, unlocked and opened it, and that was as much time as Yiren needed to latch onto me the moment I closed the door.

I turned around from the door and she was instantly there, wrapping her arms around my head and pulling me into a deep kiss. A moan sounded from her as my tongue sought entrance into her mouth, and I pulled her by the hips closer, so she could feel the bulge in my jeans. She started grinding herself against it, still kissing me with intense passion.

I half-carried her up the stairs to the bedroom and set her down on the mattress, where she laid on her back with her legs spread enticingly, eyes glittering with lust.

After shutting the drapes around the bed, I removed my shirt and saw her bite her lip at the sight of me shirtless, a fact I took heed of and tossed my shirt elsewhere, settling my hips between her thighs. I made sure she could acutely feel the tent in my pants against her, and she definitely did feel it.

Her breaths became shorter and more frequent, a sure sign of growing neediness. Her hips started moving of their own accord, grinding up against me. I felt this and got off her.

I hooked my thumbs under the waistbands of my jeans and boxers and pulled them off, finally freeing my cock from its denim prison, while she quickly removed her own clothes in my peripheral vision. She looked at me once I straightened up, bit her lip again, and her hand sneaked along her waist towards her pussy.

I was amazed for the millionth time by the fact that she had a body like a Greek goddess. To verbally describe the intensity of the lust her body induced would have been impossible.

I stepped forward and grabbed her hand, tearing it away from her leaking pussy, replacing the fingers with my tongue.

Her reaction was immediate. Her hands shot to my head and pulled, and she gave a short cry every time my tongue penetrated her. I targeted the spots I knew would pleasure her the most.

“Yes, fuck!” Her mouth was wide open and she was taking shallow breaths, giving short moans and gasps on the exhale. “Yes, don’t stop oppa it feels so good!”

I pressed by thumb to her clit while I continued the circular swiping motion with my tongue, which was quite effective to say the least. Her cries became sharper, her breaths more shallow, all building up to her climax.

“I’m gonna cum oppa, keep going, I’m cumming! AHH!”

How turned on I was could not have been described in words as her juices gushed out, into my mouth, and over my face. Her hands trembled as they clutched at my hair, and she had a small out-of-body experience as the pleasure of a second orgasm briefly took her to another realm of consciousness. I was in heaven right along with her, nothing was more satisfying that pleasuring her to an orgasm.

When she came back to earth I had gotten up, dried my face, and laid down on the bed beside her. The section of sheet under her lower half was soaked, as were her thighs and pussy. Her eyes were unfocused and dreamy, her chest heaved while her extremities still trembled.

“Oppa…”

She had turned her head towards me and I could almost see the hearts in her eyes as she looked at me.

“That was…so good…”

She spoke each phrase between breaths. If she thought what I had just done effortlessly was good, she had yet to feel what would happen when I was pounding her and completely abandoning any restraint.

I turned myself towards her and put my arms around her, though the effect was kind of ruined by my stiff cock poking her in the thigh, which made her giggle. She turned over and maneuvered down between my legs, placing her hands on my thighs as she stared fixedly at my length like a lion looks at its dinner, and I could tell she was about to go to town.

“I’m really hungry oppa,” she purred deviously, each word laced with teasing, while her hands performed slow strokes over my length, “I think I need to be fed, hmm?”

I took the cue and grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her lips down over my cock, and then everything else disappeared. Her lips parted and then slid smoothly over my shaft, a fresh coat of saliva washing over me.

“Fuuuck,” I groaned, unable to contain the immediate pleasure that filled me. “Fuck Yiren, that feels amazing!”

Each bob of her head made its way closer to my base, and she got a little more than three quarters before she started gagging. She moaned, gasped, gagged, and choked, but she didn’t give herself a break, even for a moment. She was hungry, and I was the only thing that could sate her appetite. Hearing my moans, she upped her speed. Her tongue slid over the underside of my cock, stretching out to flick my balls, while she forced her own head further down on me. My entire length was lodged inside her mouth and throat, and I felt myself very quickly nearing a climax.

“You’re going to make me cum,” I panted, getting even more turned on by her moans and small ‘mmm’s of satisfaction. “I’m gonna fucking cum down your throat, keep doing that!”

She took heed of this and slid her head all the way down my cock once more and held there, and with an almighty groan and a bed-rattling thrust of my hips I buried myself in her throat and spurted my load down it, a fact she was very pleased with. She bobbed her head rapidly, throating my cock a final few times and swallowing every single drop. And she couldn’t resist holding her head down on my now hypersensitive rod for another few seconds, simply loving the feeling of having her throat penetrated.

I lost count of the seconds she held herself there, I wasn’t really paying attention. Twenty, thirty, forty, somewhere around forty-five I lost count, and then she pulled up, dislodging me from her mouth and gasping for some much-needed oxygen, though her face showed pure enjoyment.

She dragged herself up the bed and settled next to me, sighing contentedly.

“I love you oppa.”

I drew her closer under the thoroughly stained blanket with one arm, using the other to run my fingers through her hair.

“I love you too, Yiren. Always.”

I could practically hear her purring as the warmth from my body emanated off me, and she snuggled in close, planting a small kiss on my jaw. I turned my head to receive and respond to her second kiss, and put my hand around her head.

Before I knew it, she was on top of me and we were kissing passionately, soft moans leaving her mouth as our tongues met. I found my cock returning to full life, and she most assuredly did, since her already-wet pussy was handily positioned right above it.

I flipped her over and pressed myself down on her. My tip rubbed against her sensitive folds, causing her to give tiny sighs of pleasure.

And then I pushed into her tight warmth. The insane tightness of her walls squeezing every part of my shaft was making me see stars, and there was quite a lot of resistance as I determinedly pushed inside her.

She moaned as I bottomed out inside her, my tip brushing spots inside her that I didn’t even know existed at that depth.

“Fuck me oppa.”

That was my cue to begin my thrusts, quickly increasing the speed and intensity of them. I landed a slap on her jiggling ass and immediately her pussy clenched around me and she cried out. I timed my spanks with each thrust of my hips, and her various obscenities also fell in rhythm.

“Oh - god - fuck - yes!” She said, each word coming out in time with the spanks. “Feels - so - good - fuck!”

I took her ponytail in my hand and pulled back, forcing her face up, her moans becoming higher in pitch at my pulling. Her back bent up so she was almost kneeling as I fucked her, and with my other hand I paused the spanks and reached around to squeeze her breasts, only heightening her arousal. Her hands gripped the hand caressing her chest.

“Please oppa, fuck me harder,” Yiren half-whispered, which I knew to be a sign that she was nearing an orgasm. “Your cock is so deep in me, it feels so good!”

I did as she asked and fucked her harder, abandoning all restraint as I slammed my hips into hers, the sounds of skin on skin getting louder as my hips met her ass. It was becoming difficult to resist the hypnotic jiggle of her ass and the way her pussy was exquisitely gripping my cock, massaging as I pistoned in and out. I was about to cum, as I realized it, and there was nothing I could do about that now.

And then, before I knew it:

“So fucking good, yes! Fuck oppa I’m cumming, FUCK!”

“Shit, I’m cumming as well, fucking take it all!”

We met our orgasms at the same time, sharing that moment of bliss together. Her juices splattered my legs as they sprayed out, accompanied by her scream of pleasure, always reserved for just such a moment of satisfaction. The feeling was pervading up my entire body, immense pleasure before my actual release. Yiren gasped twice and moaned quietly at the deluge of hot cum that flooded her tight pussy. I kept fucking her at a slower pace, now the only things audible were the wet slaps of our skin and her occasional murmured expressions, as she rested somewhere between this bed and heaven itself.

“So good…feels so…feels so good…ohh yes just like that…”

I got the impression from what she was saying that she was very near unconsciousness. It wouldn’t surprise me, since she had just had a very intense orgasm. I pulled out of her with a lewd squelch and a large quantity of cum rushed out of her.

“Ahhh…ohh yes…I love you oppa…”

I settled in front of her as she flopped over onto her side, breathing very heavily. I rubbed her back as she moved close, nimbly stroking all the spots I knew she loved, and she purred into my neck.

“I love you too, baby.”

…

I got up a while later, put on my clothes, and after giving the half-asleep Yiren a kiss, I went up to the kitchen to start preparing dinner. It was a quality that especially attracted her to me, the fact that I could cook, and well. She always said that a man who could cook was a man who wouldn’t have trouble finding women.

Jjajangmyeon was a personal favorite of both of ours, and so it was what I started making. I was nearly finished when the sound of the bedroom door opening sounded behind me and she entered the room wrapped in a blanket, yawning.

“Did you sleep?” I asked, industriously stirring the noodles.

“Yes.” She yawned again. “For a little bit.”

“Good,” I replied, “because you’re not going to be doing much of it tonight.”

She giggled and peered into the pot.

“Jjajangmyeon?”

“Indeed.” I put the spatula down and turned to her. “Just how we both like it.”

She hugged me, the top of her head barely brushing my chin.

“Aww oppa you didn’t have to, I could have done it.”

I put my arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a tighter embrace.

“I know. That’s why I’m doing it.”

Yiren hugged me tighter and buried her face in my shirt, and I could feel her smile against my chest.

“I love it when you do this.”

Her words warmed my heart, and I smiled as well.

“I do it all the time, you’d think some of the novelty would be lost.

She snorted. “Well, it hasn’t.”

I turned back to the wok and stirred my stir fry, my arm still around her shoulders.

“What do you say we pop open some of that Hennessy after dinner?”

“Sounds good to me. That stuff hits hard, though.”

“Precisely.” I said. “We might not even have to use a lot.”

“That looks like it’s done.” She said, nodding at the pot of noodles.

“I’m aware.” I replied. “Would you get out the bowls?”

She got out the bowls and two pairs of chopsticks as I turned off the fire on the stovetop. I dragged the noodles out of the pot and into the bowls and spooned the sauce onto them. She took them to the table and set up two chairs across from each other while I got out a bottle of choice Pinot Noir from the rack along with two glasses.

“Wow, you really are trying to get drunk, aren’t you?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Not really, but I’m not trying not to, if you catch my drift.”

She just smirked, absolutely catching my drift and knowing the outcome. I sat down after pouring the wine and setting the glasses down in our places.

Dinner passed quickly. The bowls had been cleared fairly quickly. I had sipped my wine away already, but Yiren always left hers to sit out for a while, the reason for which I never knew.

By the time she picked her glass back up I had poured myself some water as a beforehand countermeasure to the many measures of Hennessy we would be sharing.

While I was thinking about it I got up and grabbed the bottle of Hennessy, setting it down on the table.

“Cheers,” she said happily, raising her glass. I raised mine and then drank from it as she followed suit.

“Good choice.” She said, after a moment of consideration. “Very nice hints of different flavors.”

“I know,” I said, taking another mouthful of water. “Pinot Noir is always good. But my friend imports his wine from places France and Spain and Italy, places which do wine the right way.”

“Speaking of your friend, where is he on vacation?”

“In Switzerland right now, but in a few days he’ll be somewhere else in Europe, I don’t know. I’d have to ask him.”

She took another small sip of wine before speaking again.

“Well, I can truthfully say that there’s no place I’d rather be then right here with you.”

She leaned across the small table and poked me in the chest, a playful smile gracing her lips. I caught her hand before she could draw it away and pulled her into a kiss. Her body seemed to relax into it, and a slightly muffled sigh was audible. When we broke the kiss off and sat back down, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were alive with desire.

“Damn, we haven’t even started drinking yet and you’re already losing it.”

Yiren blushed harder at my sentence. She said nothing, but something changed in her expression. She got up from her seat, abandoning her wine, and strode around the table to me. The next thing I knew, she was sitting in my lap, hands pulling my face towards hers. She moaned as her lips locked with mine, tongue entering my mouth, meeting with my own.

She pulled away, looking at me with the dim-ish light dancing in her eyes, a deep blush spread across her cheeks.

“How about that Hennessy now, huh?” She said.

I reached for the bottle and unscrewed the top, as she turned to the side. I took a healthy swig of it myself before reaching for the shotglasses. The alcohol burned in my throat as it went down and I took a deep breath in.

We both downed a shot together. She coughed and winced as she swallowed, but nodded when I looked concernedly at her.

"I'm alright."

She reached for her second shot and swallowed it with me.

"How quick does this stuff kick in?" She asked as the glasses were once again refilled.

"Quickly."

After successfully downing three shots and of the liquor, we sat back and waited on the couch. I had made the mistake of impatience while drinking once before, and it was not going to happen again.

And then it hit.

And when it hit, it hit hard.

"Whoa," I slurred as the room started spinning before my eyes, "Yiren, you feeling it?"

She gave a tipsy giggle and fell forward, still laughing.

"I dunno, I've never been drunk bfore..."

Through the haze of drunken stupor I was seeing, I looked down and saw her ass, so sexy and perfectly positioned...she was even bent over my lap, too...I had no chance of resisting the urge.

"Ah!" She yelped as I slapped her ass, then giggled again. "Oppa..."

"More..."

I gladly complied, landing more punishing smacks on her ass. With each spank she tensed and gave a small, cute cry.

Normally my dominant side stayed at a minimum, but I had to admit to myself that in my drunk state it was starting to take over my brain. I found myself increasing the intensity of my smacks and taking pleasure in it, causing her cries to rise in volume quickly.

"Nngh yes, keep spanking me oppa!" She whimpered, swiftly approaching her peak. "Ah! Fuck yes, keep doing that!"

I kept spanking her and reached around to caress her breast with my other hand. Her moans kept building until finally she orgasmed with a squeal, the crotch of her shorts becoming very wet.

Yiren took quick, shallow breaths to calm down after cumming, and when she had sufficiently recovered she rolled over on my legs to face me.

"That was fun oppa, we should go to the bedroom."

I blinked hard. "Shit, I dunno if I can walk."

She scoffed. "Come on, let's go."

I clumsily got up off the couch and weaved my way up the stairs and to the bedroom, stumbling three times on the way there. I dimmed the lights as I entered, then fell forward onto the bed, rolling over and scooting up to let my head rest on the pillow. My shirt was going to be an unnecessary accessory once she got up here, so I removed it and tossed it aside.

She entered the bed and slid the drapes shut behind her, wearing only her soaked shorts, panties, and a bra. I was already hard from the light spanking I had given her, but the mere sight of her sexy, half-naked body was enough to double my stiffness.

She clambered across the bed and straddled me, leaning down to kiss me. I accepted it only for a second, then gripped her hips and rolled over, so I was on top.

I kissed her more aggressively now, pressing my tongue against her lips to gain entry. She eventually gave in, but we both knew she was tantalizing herself by holding out, she wanted me. She gave a tiny sigh of pleasure.

I broke off the kiss and left her blushing and panting, eyes sparkling.

"God, you're so sexy when you're drunk." She murmured to me, holding my face with both hands.

"Really?" I said, locking eyes with her. "Then maybe I should do it more often."

Normally and drunkenly, Yiren's submissive side stayed at a minimum. It balanced with her enjoyment of being in control for a pretty neutral attitude. But I could see in her deep brown eyes a need. Whether she could feel it or not, I could tell that she needed to be dominated, badly.

"Hello?" Her voice said from a long way off, the sound trying desperately to be heard over the pounding of my own heart in my ears. "You gonna do something? Or will I have to do it myself?"

She was baiting me, and I knew it. Trying to spur me into fucking her. But it wasn't going to happen yet.

"Yeah, I'm gonna do something." I growled. "And you're gonna take it, like it or not."

A shudder ran through her at my words, but she maintained her cocky, playful attitude.

"Ooh, he's getting feisty. Someone's a little drunk."

I could feel annoyance rising at her words, which was exactly what she wanted, of course. She observed me with satisfaction.

"Okay, that's it." I got off her, opened the drapes, and stood up, removing my jeans and boxers. She automatically got off the bed and knelt in front of me as I sat on the edge of it, knowing my intention. I wasted no time in grabbing her hair and forming it into a ponytail in my hand, grasping none too lightly. She gasped at my sudden roughness, and I used the opportunity of her mouth already being open to shove my cock into it.

She choked as my tip poked the back of her throat, but didn't resist as I slowly pushed further in, bringing her face to the base. She gagged, and I pulled her head back by the ponytail before slamming my hips into it again, driving my length down her throat. Over and over I brought her face back before plunging it back down, spearing her throat with my cock.

Tears gathered in her eyes when she choked, gagging obscenely on my dick. After a bit she started moving by herself, her neck on autopilot, ramming her face into my crotch. Saliva spilled down her face and dripped off her messy chin to her bra-clad breasts below. Light mascara streaks tracked down her face, joining the mess at her lips.

Yiren brought her head down one more time and held it there for a second, a choking sound resounding, before pulling off, gasping and breathing heavily. She looked at me, panting, and I felt the promise of an orgasm drifting away.

"Why'd you stop?"

"I want you to cum inside me."

I reached forward and lifted her onto the bed, setting her down none too gently on her back. I held my hand on her throat, choking her, not enough to cause damage.

She caught her breath at the rough treatment, clearly turned on. But I wasn't going to hold off on that domination.

"You want?" I breathed into her face, her pupils dilating in arousal. "Maybe you need a reminder of who's in charge."

She said nothing, but I could see a subtle change in her expression. I grabbed the waistband of her shorts and panties and pulled them over her slender legs and off her feet. Her pussy was already soaked and shining with arousal.

Yiren, still keeping up her cocky demeanor, gave a huge fake yawn and smirked cheekily. I narrowed my eyes and then reached up and tore the bra off her, making her yelp. However overweening she was acting, I could see in her face a desire to be dominated. And that was a desire I was more than willing to satisfy.

I crawled forward, lifted her legs up, and sheathed myself to the root inside her tight, wet pussy. "Fuck!" She cried out as I pushed into her. She moaned and gasped when I bottomed out inside her, firmly prodding her cervix. Her quick, high-pitched breaths heightened my arousal.

My brain was far too cloudy to control my desire, so my thrusts were fast and rough. I relentlessly pounded her, not holding back a bit and not sorry at all. I gave her ass quick smacks randomly every few thrusts, making her yelp every single time.

Her brows contracted and turned up, and her mouth stayed slightly open, her face falling into that angelic expression of bliss that never failed to make me shiver in pleasure myself.

"Oh - fuck - yes - harder - please!" She whimpered in time with my strokes. I lowered my face to her ear.

"Now remind me," I growled, her moans filling my own ears, "who's in charge?"

She barely managed to get the words out inbetween her cries. "You oppa! You're in charge! I belong to you!"

I gave her ass a hard slap, somewhat dissatisfied with her answer. "Then say it right, slut."

"I'm yours, sir!" She cried again, "I belong to you only!"

"Good girl." I said in a low voice, and I felt her shiver under me. I slowed my thrusts to a calmer pace, more to tantalize her than anything else. She was near an orgasm, I could tell, so I kept the strokes at a steady pace with a lot of force.

"Sir, please," She begged, her juices leaking out around me, clearly turned on by my dominance, "Fuck me harder, make me cum for you." Cleverly worded so as to make it like this was for me, not for her. I was not, even in my drunk-as-fuck state, going to fall for that.

"Why would I do that?" I said to her dismay, evilly grinning. "You were such a bad girl earlier, why should I reward you?"

"I'm sorry, sir!" She said breathlessly, her eyes full of desperation. "I'm sorry I was bad! Please, sir, fuck me and make me cum!"

I couldn't really help but give in, since my libido was screaming at me. So I picked up the pace and resumed my uncontrolled plowing of her tight cunt, the resistance smoothed somewhat by the enormous amounts of slick she was producing.

With every subsequent thrust, her moans became louder snd her words dirtier as I brought her nearer to her peak.

"Mmhh yes sir, fuck me harder! It's so good, fuck! I'm gonna cum for you sir!"

I pushed myself up from my elbows and held a hand to her neck, pushing down just enough to make her enjoy it. She took a sharp breath and opened her eyes, pupils dilated.

"Shut the fuck up and take it, slut," I said, groaning despite myself.

"Yes, sir," she gasped, moaning, as I pushed deeper. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

She wasn't lying. Her voice died momentarily as her eyes rolled into her head and she bucked her hips up into me, a gush of cum spraying my abdomen. She found her voice after a second, and let out a short, loud "ah", mouth open. Her hips continued their motion seemingly independent of her pleasure-addled brain.

Her moans subsided, and an idea came to me. I reluctantly pulled out of her, a lewd squelch sounding. She lay there, unmoving, eyes open and practically heart-pupiled. I walked to the french doors leading to thr balcony and opened them, a rush of cool night air sweeping over me.

Yiren lifted her head slightly at the sudden cool draft and pushed herself up with slightly trembling arms. I went back to the bed and lifted her off it easily, then set her down on her front on the soft white couch oustide. She gave a tiny gasp as a breeze of cool air moved over her naked pussy.

"Sir...

"Fuck me again..."

I was still rock hard despite the cool air, so I climbed onto the couch with her. Her head was laying sideways towards the dark scenery, her arms were stretched out in front of her, and her ass was sticking up in the air, perfectly positioned for me to fuck.

I slid my cock back into her wet heat, drawing a languid whimper from her mouth and clenching my jaw with a groan. I started off slow, with gentle, even thrusts, Yiren moaning softly beneath me.

"Mmm fuck yes you're so deep in me oppa..."

I kicked the pace up a little and started thrusting faster and harder, quickly turning her moans to cries as I pounded her tight pussy.

"Mmhh fuck! Pound me harder please sir! Pound my little pussy! So good, fuck, yes yes please harder! So fucking big inside me, yes! Nghh oh god yes, use me, fuck!"

Her words flicking every arousal switch in my brain to 'on', I went even faster, giving it everything I had to keep pushing into her. Beads of sweat formed at my hairline at the effort. Yiren was reduced to a mewling, whimpering, moaning mess, unable to form coherent words in her pleasure. I slapped her ass hard and she cried out.

"Please - sir - harder! Oh - yes - slap me - sir!"

I spanked her harder and she arched her back, a small yelp escaping her with every thrust I gave. Pleasure was building in my lower abdomen like resistance from a compressed spring, my abs and obliques tensing in preparation.

"Yes sir, give it to me! Fuck me harder please! Nghh yes, I'm gonna - I'm gonna - fuck, I'm cumming sir!"

"Fuck!" I groaned, as she gave a particularly sexy cry that sent shivers down my spine, "Yiren baby I'm gonna fucking cum!"

"Yes - please - sir!" She managed through her high-pitched whines of bliss. This, combined with her usage of "sir", was all the initiative I needed to cum inside her.

"Oh my god yes, FUCK!" I almost roared, slamming my hips into hers one last time, burying my cock so deep inside her that it touched her cervix again and blasting her insides with hot cum. My release triggered hers, and she orgasmed again with a scream, spraying her cum out onto me.

I rolled over and off her, sliding out to let a large amount of cum come spilling out of her. She gave another soft moan and then rolled over to face me. I pulled her closer and her face and body were very hot despite the 6°C temperature outside.

"So good... oppa I love you..."

"I love you too, baby."

...

I must have fallen asleep, since when I awoke it was about 8 o'clock in the morning, judging by the sun's position. Yiren was snoozing peacefully beside me. As I slowly returned to a waking state I realized that I was stiffer than a wood plank again. Yiren's sleeping body was looking incredibly sexy, and I was entirely unable to control my sudden desire. I pulled her closer to me and pushed into her again, quietly groaning. She gave a soft moan in her sleep. I started very slowly, but even this was enough to stir her from her slumber. She breathed in deeply and shifted slightly, and I continued my thrusts, making her whine faintly. She steadily returned to conciousness, moaning more and tightening around me.

"Oppa?"

"Yes, baby," I groaned through gritted teeth, listening to her soft mewls of satisfaction. "Oh, fuck..."

Her eyes opened partially, looking lazily out at the trees, and then they closed and her eyebrows contracted upwards as I reached around and started rubbing her clit, making her gasp and whimper.

"A-ah...oh yes, k-keep doing that..."

Her head leaned back into my collarbone and I could smell vanilla in her soft hair. I grabbed her hips and slammed mine into them, driving my cock deep inside her and making her cry a loud "ah".

"Ohh yes yes yes, please keep going, I'm gonna fucking cum again, don't stop oppa!"

I reached and put my hand around her slim neck, squeezing lightly, just enough to give her the sensation I knew she liked. Her intonations of pleasure became unintelligible.

"Yes - fuck - harder - oppa - mmm yes - so good!"

"Fuck, you like that baby?" I squeezed her neck harder.

"Ah! Yes, sir! I love it! Fuck my little pussy harder! Use me! Your cock is so big, so deep inside me sir!"

"Yiren, I'm gonna cum baby," I gasped, moaning in her ear, and I felt her shiver in arousal under me.

"Cum inside me, sir," Yiren panted, arching her back into me. Her hands went to her own breasts, squeezing and massaging, pleasuring her to greater heights. Her eyes closed once more and she let out a shriek of pleasure and a long moan as sbe squirted on me again, arms and legs trembling uncontrollably as her mind whited out.

I briefly lost touch with reality as my own mind was flooded with sensation and I released inside her again. My body shuddered in pleasure and I let out a few swears through gritted teeth, thrusting my way through my orgasm. Yiren gasped and moaned throughout it, loving the feeling of warmth pouring into her.

My muscles relaxed, and I slipped out of her as we both settled down again, panting and satisfied. It was a few minutes before she spoke again.

"Oppa?"

"Yiren, baby?"

She sighed contentedly. "I love you."

"I love you too." I replied, planting a row of kisses on her neck.

"You know what I think oppa?"

"What's that, babe?"

She turned over and faced me, a devilish smirk twisting her lips.

"I think it's gonna be a really fun summer."

#kpop smut #yiren smut #everglow smut #yiren

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hoshologies · 1 year

Text

8:41 pm, kim m.

genres &&. warnings — timestamp, fluff, established relationship &&. lapslock intended, mingyu being sweet.

word count — 1.3k

you stand in the center of your bedroom, or what used to be your bedroom. the only remnants of it a bedframe, mattress, and dresser you no longer need. as excited as you are to be starting a new chapter of your life, there’s a bittersweet emptiness that chills you through to your heart. this apartment has never objectively been the best, but there are so many good memories carved into the very floorboards: first dean’s list, your twenty-first birthday, first kiss with your first real boyfriend. it’s hard to accept, the idea of leaving all of that behind, even when you’re moving to a place where you’ll make better memories.

lost in your own world, mingyu’s footsteps don’t register until he’s right behind you, wrapping strong arms around your waist and resting his chin atop your shoulder. the affection shocks, but doesn’t startle you; rather, you lean into his body, welcoming the warmth of him against you.

“just put the last box in the car,” he says, breath hot and comforting against the exposed skin of your neck. “are you ready to go?”

you nod absently, hardly acknowledging his words, but you make no move to leave. you’re too focused on the fact that over the course of the last two days, every trace of you in this apartment has disappeared. every framed picture, every half-read book, every little shoe scuff by the front door left after a long night of studying or partying with mingyu and his friends. it’s like you never even existed in this space, four years wiped clean or moved out.

“you okay?” your boyfriend’s voice is light as air, warm like hot chocolate. he snuggles in closer, arms wrapped impossibly tighter around you; if you focus enough, you’re sure you can feel the steady beat of his heart against your shoulderblade.

“yeah,” you respond in kind, soft and quiet so as to not break the silence, strangely peaceful. even the quietest sounds echo off the now-bare white walls of your bedroom. “just reminiscing, i guess.”

you can feel him nod against your shoulder, soft hair brushing against your temple. he probably feels that same cool sadness that permeates the entire apartment that you do. of course, he’s spent less time in this apartment than you have, two out of four years of residency, but so many milestones of your relationship have happened in this apartment. it’s sad to be relinquishing your claim on this apartment, to allow someone else to come here and overwrite everything with their own memories.

“i get that,” mingyu affirms, voice rumbling in his chest. “so much of our relationship happened here. like, remember before we were together, we got so drunk and i was craving one of those microwave macaroni cups?”

you laugh at last, a breathy little giggle that has your boyfriend pressing his cheek against yours, a smile evident on his face. “yeah, when you tried to open it but spilled noodles everywhere and then forgot to put water in and nearly caught my microwave on fire?”

his chuckle is deep, resonating against your back, through your shoulder, a comforting sensation. “that’s a little dramatic–”

you slap playfully at one of his forearms. “no, it isn’t, gyu! the cup was literally on fire! there were flames!”

if he wasn’t currently using you as a prop to lean his weight, he’d be doubled over at the waist right now. for two and a half year, he has claimed that the macaroni incident really wasn’t as serious as you’ve always made it out to be, but it is true; he’d been so blasted out of his mind that when he’d tried to make a snack at almost two in the morning, he’d nearly ruined your microwave because there wasn’t any water in the cup and the noodles caught fire. even in the haze of alcohol and mild anger towards him for it, you’d known how much you liked having him around, always making you laugh and warm from inside out like he was kindling a fire that burned in your bone marrow.

“or how about that time i was visiting over here and it snowed so much that i couldn’t leave and we got stranded inside for, like, a week?”

you nod, smiling to yourself at the memory. it was just after new year’s and he’d come over for a movie night and sleepover before the spring semester started since you’d have less time to see him. as luck would have it, it started snowing a quarter of the way through the first movie; the next morning, snow was still coming down and weather reports said feet upon feet of snow. you hadn’t been together long at that point, just a few months, so it was a long six days for the two of you. but you had come out of it stronger and the better for it; there was tangible proof that you could cohabit a space and not kill each other or want to break up.

your shared laughter peters out and quiet overtakes the space once more, the both of you snuggling into one another, each considering your own favorite memories that were made within these walls. so much has happened here. the two of you have changed so much. the idea of moving on, of changing is something daunting, insurmountable even, like you’re leaving an integral piece of you behind. but the most integral part of your life stands with you now, his arms wrapped tight around you, his nose buried into the junction of your shoulder and neck, something stable in the midst of a big tidal wave that threatens to upset your whole life.

eventually, mingyu leans back and sets his hands on your shoulders, turning you in a slow half-circle to face him head on. his face is soft and welcoming, comfort to the highest degree that belongs solely to you. his eyes are warm, dark serenity.

“i know you’re sad about moving out and honestly…? i kind of am, too,” he admits, a bashful expression passing over his features for a fleeting moment. he has reason to, memories and a toothbrush on the bathroom sink counter and a shelf in the pantry just for his favorite snacks. this has been his home just as much as yours for the past few years. “but it’ll be okay. we’re in this together.”

his hands find yours and he holds them up between your bodies, palm to palm, fingers locked together.

“we’ll make new memories in our place. you hear that? our place. we get to officially share a home. like, we can say that we actually live together. isn’t that so cool?” his eyes light up and he’s right, it is cool, being able to say that you live with your boyfriend. “and just so you know, there’s no one else i’d rather be doing this with. it’s scary, sure, but anything is possible with you.”

and there’s hope and possibility shining on his face. there’s trepidation, yes, but you can feel the trust and the optimism he has like it’s transferring through the press of your palms. it’s intoxicating and while the fear of moving on is still there, it begins to melt away under his touch. so you nod and shake your joined hands a little bit, which makes him grin bright and beautiful.

“you’re right.”

“i know.”

you roll your eyes at him, but smile anyways. your hands fall apart from each other and mingyu turns on his heels, slipping an arm over your shoulder and tugging you close to his side. there’s a confidence in his stride as he leads you towards the front door of the apartment, past the echoey emptiness.

“let’s get out of here. let’s go home.”

how can you say no?

#mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #kim mingyu x reader #kpop x reader #svt.fic #mingyu.fic #timestamp.fic #writing.fic

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yandere-to-express · 9 months

Text

Goth and the thembo

Chapter 2

 cw for obsessive behaviour and stalking, but, well, you guys knew that was coming, right? maybe the cw should just say "peter",, (there's also some misgendering, but i promise it's very brief and non-hostile/unintentional!)

Dog barking. Microwave beeping. Smell of the instant meal they just pulled out. Big stretch...

Breathe.

“Be quiet, Blossom,” they sighed half-heartedly, already drained only 10 minutes after getting home. The little chihuahua sneezed confrontationally, staring out into the hallway, alert. It was probably the neighbour’s kids getting home from whatever sports club they usually attended. That, or their brothers were coming home after visiting whatever new friends they’d made at their own schools.

They decided they were too tired to care.

Legs weaving through the suddenly interested cats and dog now they were holding a plate of food with careful practise, Y/n carried it upstairs to their unfinished room, the blank walls staring at them almost accusingly with boxes of things that still had yet to be unpacked as they clicked the light-switch on.

Speaking of unpacking...

Y/n sighed as they sunk into their mattress, spoon in hand as they half-heartedly ate the curry on their plate, the events of the day almost dulling their usual favourite flavour down considerably, cheap chicken tikka masala not covering their taste buds in a comforting embrace the way it used to. Maybe it’s just the way it was made over here.

Anyway.

Yeah, they made a new friend in the least likely place, but that was nerve-wracking enough. They thought...They thought that because they got detention something terrible would happen. And when it didn’t...They didn’t know, the impending sense of doom still hadn’t left entirely, so it was exhausting enough just processing it from the comfort of their home. It was a miracle they hadn’t devolved into tears at school, especially with how loud it was in the cafeteria today.

They couldn’t let that happen. They wouldn’t , this was a new start. They weren’t going to blow it like they did back in Year 7.

...No, they weren’t thinking about that right now. They’d unpack that memory when they had the mental capacity to do so.

...What were they thinking about again? Oh, right, school today.

So yeah, double-period History was boring until Peter showed up, French 2 was a wash (seriously, they were thankful they took it as a GCSE before they left England, they were further ahead than they thought they’d ever be), Graphic Design just went over the same old stuff they already learned back home, and Algebra 2 was even easier like, c’mon! Algebra wasn’t supposed to be easy! At least move them up a few classes if it was like that! They were so worried about the past two years of GCSEs (as well as the three months of Sixth Form that they promptly – and gladly – abandoned when the family moved overseas around Christmas) being earned would be useless now they were here, but it just meant they were too far ahead! And they weren’t allowed to join the Seniors so late into the year either! Back in England they’d been so worried about having enough intelligence, but now they apparently had too much of the stuff, and it was irritating! They’d rather keep being a “gifted” student back in Years 1 to 6, thank you very much. At least AP Physics was more of a challenge, but, well, it was AP Physics . It didn’t get much harder than that, in their opinion.

Why was all this a problem? Because without work that would take more than 25 minutes to complete on average, Y/n was terrible at focusing. Worksheet finished? You’d think that they would ask for more, right? Wrong , they just stared out the window absently, maybe doodling in a book that they brought for that purpose if they remembered, trying their best to keep their cool when the class got rowdy and the teacher had to shout over the noise to call the class to attention again. It was worse than back home, honestly. The classes were bigger, for one thing, so that immediately meant more noise.

Man, maybe they should have just gone straight to college. Oh well, too late now.

They licked their spoon clean as they finished their meal, just opting to leave the cutlery and plate on one of the piles of boxes to take down in the morning, closing their curtains (their parents insisted that they at least hang those up) as they shrugged off their zip-up hoodie, tiredly undressing ungracefully and throwing on some pyjamas. After leaving the room for a few minutes to brush their teeth (hey, they were an idiot who ate unhealthily and kept dirty dishes in their room, but oral hygiene was still one of their top priorities! ...thanks for scaring that into them, Mum), they reached into a small box by their bed, pulling out an old pink DS, checking the cartridge and settling on the game inside, ignoring Blossom’s barking as they heard their brothers return.

Pokémon Platinum would help them out for now...

Y/n woke up with a start, eyes snapping open as they heard movement outside. They wiped their bleary eyes as they looked around. They’d fallen asleep with their DS, it seemed, the melody of Jubilife City at night out of place as their anxiety rocketed. Was this the beginning of a robbery?! Were they being robbed?! They scrambled to pick up their DS, tapping the Pokétch a few times to get a sense of how late it was and-

Oh. 11pm. That was when their dad got home from work, which was confirmed by the door creaking open downstairs, his mumbles of greeting to what Y/n assumed was their Mum or a brother muffled by the floorboards beneath them.

Man, were they dumb, huh? They let out a shaky chuckle at their own stupidity, shutting their DS and putting it on the makeshift nightstand (you know, just a stack of boxes, like what anyone else has in their bedroom) next to their bed. They lay back down, screwing their eyes shut in an attempt to sleep.

Surprisingly, it actually worked!

...Unsurprisingly, they missed the way the moonlight cast a shadow on the figure sitting in the tree just outside their window...

Ok, that was way too close for comfort.

That old dude who went inside almost saw him, apparently there was a family dog that hated people walking by, and poor Y/n looked terrified! They looked as though they were about to die (no, not them, they’d never die, he’d make sure of it)! But, fuck, if the streetlight was just a few inches closer to the house...

Peter shivered as he looked back into his darling’s darkened room with his huge, almost luminous, cerulean eyes, safe in the knowledge that not many other people would be out at this time, and none of them would see them from the sidewalk. He waited for what felt like an eternity, watching as the rest of the lights shut off before making his next move.

His mother and sister picked on him for looking scrawny, but he hardly felt it as he lifted himself up on the branch above and hoisted himself onto the balcony and into the doors that they must have left open by mistake (honestly, it was February! Never mind the dangers of the world outside, what about the cold?! Oh, he’d have to take care of them, help them stay safe and healthy)…

Unless they were expecting him...?

He felt a shiver race through him, caused by the excitement and the chill (it was 23 degrees out there, ok?!) as he tip-toed into the room cautiously, praying to whatever deity out there that he didn’t step on some old, creaky floorboard. Thankfully, his darling’s room didn’t seem to have any (good, they deserved the best room in the world, he couldn’t bear to let someone as adorable as them to live uncomfortably, and they were so small! He was actually a little worried some of the piles of boxes would topple over and crush them!), and he was right by their side in a flash.

He stood, watching over Raine with a little uncertainty of what to do now, looking at the rise and fall of their chest. They were wearing some pyjamas with some yellow fantasy animal thing on it (Pikachu, right? So adorable ...), and they gave a little snort as they slept, a little bit of drool escaping their mouth.

If Y/n knew they looked like that while they slept? They would’ve been mortified.

But, to Peter?

They looked like an angel sent from the heavens. His darling angel. Fuck, how could anyone look so adorable and beautiful?

...Well, the cold was no longer an issue for him, it seemed.

Peter knelt down, placing his chin onto the mattress as he continued watching them breathe. Watching as their face scrunched up a few times, muttering nonsensical things out loud as they dreamed (he had no idea what a cookie cat was, but fuck, they were just so cute!) . He stayed there for hours, ignoring the plea for rest from his eyes as they drooped more and more. After the first half-hour, he’d gotten bolder and moved his face closer to theirs, able to smell their wavy brown hair (they must have used coconut scented shampoo before school, he realised, but God , it was addicting, he’d have to get some of his own just to be reminded of the scent of them ) and gently wipe away the line of drool leaking from their barely parted lips.

...Deep within him he knew it was gross, but he licked the liquid away in a flash and, stars above , that was even better than their smell!

He whispered praise to them as the night dragged on, petting their hair and caressing their cheek tenderly. He even got a little absent, sleepy nuzzle on the hand back (he was never washing that hand again)! His darling kept mumbling stuff about ice cream from outer space, and choosing something called a Bidoof (whatever it was, they giggled in their sleep about it being God, and, in case you hadn’t guessed yet, he did another mental bluescreen at how adorable they were being) to fight something called an Arceus?

But then, they said something that made his heart (and, ok, maybe his pants) swell and his face turn bright red.

“Mmph, Peter...Bite me...Sharp teeth...”

Oh.

Oh boy.

The goth kind of just...sat there, staring at Y/n in bewilderment.

Yesyesyesyesyes darling, he could do that!

He cursed under his breath, averting his gaze out of bashfulness (somehow, he had some shame still left inside!), and pausing as he noticed the sky outside was brightening.

Fuck , he’d been there all night!

Peter hesitantly got up, looking back at Y/n as he made his way back to the balcony. The sun was only just peeking up behind the horizon, but it was enough for some golden rays to hit his darling’s body.

Yeah. He was right. They had to be an angel, they looked so fucking beautiful and peaceful like that.

He wouldn’t mind waking up next to them like that in the bed, some day.

He shook his head, brushing his ebony hair out of his face, gazing over Y/n face and body one last time, before hopping out the balcony and back into the tree, scaling down it carefully and landing a little clumsily onto the wet grass. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and hesitantly walking away, back towards where the school and his own house was.

He was going to be so exhausted today.

...It was totally worth it, though.

“Someone’s chipper today,” Lucy noted as Y/n skipped into the classroom, sitting next to her with a smile. “You’re even in on time! Did Detention really scare you so much that you didn’t wanna be late again?”  “Good morning to you too,” they frowned teasingly, pulling out a little sketchbook and their pencil case. “Nope, I just...I dunno, I didn’t sleep in for once. I actually slept great for the first time in, what? Ever?”  “You look it, your eye-bags are basically gone!”  “Oh, no, that’s makeup. But! I actually had time to put some on for once!”  “Aww, Y-Y growin’ up!” Lucy teased and wiping pretend tears away and, patting them on the back and jokingly wiping away a tear. “But, how was Detention by the way?”  “Oh, great, actually. I got some work done and I made a new friend,” Y/n admitted, beginning to doodle. Lucy smiled widely, seeming to be genuinely happy.  “Good for you! I’ve noticed that my crowd seems to put you off – don’t give me that look, I’ve seen your face, I’ve worn that face, I’m only still around those loud assholes because they’re Vio’s friends, so I know how you feel – but, seriously. I’m happy for you, now you’ll have someone less obnoxious than the soccer team!”  “You’re talking to me as if I have no friends other than you,” Y/n raised an eyebrow at her, grinning.  “You know what I mean! You only really hang out with me and Vio, as well as that nerd in your History and Physics classes. TJ?”  “TK, and they’re a sweetheart, I’ll have you know.”  “Yeah, yeah, I know, but, anyway! Who’s your friend?”

Y/n glanced down at the doodle and realised that without thinking, they’d drawn the new friend himself.

“Oh, take a look, I just finished a drawing of him,” they pointed. Lucy followed their finger, their smile dropping as her violet eyes widened, pupils contracting.  “No,” she hissed quietly, whipping her head back to face the other, panicked. Y/n groaned at her expression. “Not him! You can’t be friends with him, he’s- well HE FUCKING CURVE STOMPED A JOCK AND TEEETH ARE ALL GONE!”  “Trouble? Yeah, I know, TK told me, but he was nice enough to me!” Y/n whispered back, frowning. Lucy shook her head violently, ignoring how her earrings bashed against her cheeks as they swung on her ears.  “You can’t! Peter King is- He's-”  “If he ends up being horrible, I’ll just back off! I’ll be fine, Lulu!”  “But!-”

“Excuse me, girls,” came Mrs Stewart’s voice and, ew, there’s only one girl here, Y/n grimaced, Lucy frowning as she caught on too. “Could we have some silence whilst I do roll-call, please?”  “Sorry Miss,” Y/n slumped, staring down at their paper. Lucy continued to look on with irritation at the teacher, absently squeezing their hand in comfort.

Soon enough, registration passed, and the class continued with its noise before the first bell went off to signify the change in classes. Lucy looked at Y/n, eyes worried.

“She’s a shit teach, huh?”  “I’m used to it, it was worse back in the UK,” Y/n shrugged, packing their things away so they wouldn’t have to hurry when the time came. Lucy sighed.  “I’m sorry, y/n, I- Fuck, not just that old bat, but about Peter. I’m just- I don’t want you getting hurt, ok? And, well, he makes others hurt a lot. But, if you wanna try, I won’t stop you. You’ll tell me if he does hurt you though, yeah? Vio and the boys’ll kick his ass for you, heck, I’ll join in! It’d put my brown belt to good use!”  “Thanks, Lulu,” Y/n smiled, picking up their bag as the bell rang. “And, hey, I can beat him up too if I have to! I do swimming! I have the muscle!”  “You’re a bit small compared to him, Y-Y.”  “So’s everyone else!”  “You’re 5’4!”

They paused as they walked, before laughing loudly.

“Ah, whatever, you probably won’t need to, anyway. See you at Break?”  “See ya, good luck in the halls!” Lucy shouted over the noise, grinning as she made her way to her Business class. Y/n sighed, looking back at her momentarily before pushing on through the crowds.  “I’ll fucking need it,” they grumbled getting pushed to-and-fro by all the taller students, pulling up their hood and tugging on the cord to block out the smell of deodorant and teenage sweat as they made their way to a hopefully quiet classroom.

Media had better have some sort of challenge today.

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heister-shmeister · 10 days

Text

“-When was someone going to tell me tea tastes different if you put it in hot water?”

a funny thing i wrote in my notes app

based on that one shitpost

Calmly the Mastermind sits on the couch, handling a white mug. The windows are cracked open to allow a steady flow of air into the building. It was quite a refreshing day with many members of the crew situated in the surrounding areas of the safehouse leisurely attending to their own activities. Duke was in the kitchen, typical of the older man. Sokol was on the other set of furniture in the downstairs area that belongs to absolutely nobody. Houston was doing his routine maintenance of his favorite firearms in the threshold between the garage and the main room. Clover was sitting on the stairs and who knows what she was thinking about. The comfortable heisters were happy simply existing.

Dallas looks down into his mug and then takes a nice sip of it. Dangling over the rim of the ceramic cup was the paper tab of a tea bag. After his initial sip, the gentleman’s face seemed to contort. Not in a bad way but in a curious, ‘huh’ sort of way. With little to no warning the crew chief asks nobody in particular-

“-When was someone going to tell me tea tastes different if you put it in hot water?”

And the air feels chillier all of the sudden.

The frantic sound of the fridge being thrown shut followed by the pitter patter of dress shoes as Duke hurriedly walks across the kitchen. He grasps the handrail with his gloved hands and cries out as if in shock.

“You were putting it in COLD WATER?”

Sokol’s neck snaps in the direction of the crew chief as the room once again falls silent. The slav, too, was utterly stunned. His eyes were blown wide and as second by second past with no elaboration the more his brows furrowed in frustration.

“DALLAS,” the russki calls out, warranting mentioned heister to once again start paying attention.

“Answer the question, Dallas,” the grinder pleads. His eyes were glossed over. Though his sitting position seemed comfortable and content, Sokol was far from it. His entire day had just been derailed by this information. Clover and Houston also poked their heads out of their current activities to provide the conversation with some of their attention.

The mastermind was confused. He swallowed down another sip of his tea and explained.

“For like, five years, I was under the impression people put tea into hot water to speed up the-“ he grasps at the air for the word he’s searching for, “-the TEA-IFICATION process. I didn’t realize there was an actual reason!” he casually remarks, chest trembling with an amused yet embarrassed chuckle.

“Do you think I have the patience to boil water,” he tacks on at the very end much more quietly than his previous statements. Despite his attempts at discreetness, Sokol shouts once again, somehow even more exasperated than before.

“You don’t have patience to microwave water for THREE minutes??” Sokol asked. He had grabbed a handful of his own hair in order to stabilize himself, brushing his hair back with his fingers.

“Why.. are you putting it in the microwave…” A ghost who’d gone previously unnoticed could not hold his peace for any longer. Houston lowered his currently unloaded pistol as well as the cloth he’d been using to wipe it down. “To boil it??” The notion someone would boil water in a microwave was utterly fucking absurd to him? He didn’t know exactly why but that seemed like a really bad idea.

Sokol slowly turns his head to face Houston. He’d been frozen in shock. He lowers his hand and his previously slicked hair falls in his face, disheveled. Rather hypocritically he interrogates,

“Do you think I have the patience to boil water on a stove??” He asks this like he didn’t JUST accuse Dallas of being impatient. Sokol /was/ pretty impatient. Seemed like any drill the cree had just wasn’t speedy enough for him.

“IT TAKES. LESS THAN A MINUTE!” Houston yells as he recklessly enunciates with words with a strike by his pistol into his palm. Sokol interrupts him.

“BUDDY, IS YOUR STOVE POWERED BY THE FUCKING SUN?” Sokol, energetic as ever swings himself over the back of the couch and walks over to Houston.

“How long does it take you to boil a cup of water on the stove??”

“Like seven minutes!”

The rogue looks up at the Russian now staring him down. Sokol wasn’t looking down on him in anger but in desperation. Houston holds up a hand and motions the following tutorial,

“Take a mug and put it on the stove on medium heat and it boils in like, two minutes,” Houston details like he’d deciphered the Rosetta stone.

“Any less than that and you use a saucepan.”

Sokol places his hands on his knees and bends down to look Houston even more intensely in the eye. The hockey player’s pupils were frantically shaking in circles and his smile was ear to ear. It was a terrified smile.

“You’re putting a whole mug of water on the stove?” the younger man asks accusatorially. “On medium heat?? Your stove is fucking enchanted.”

While the two goofy goobers continue to debate each other in their own corner of the safehouse, Clover lowers her hand from the bridge of her nose and mumbles shakily under her breath.

“Every person in this building is an utter fucking loon.”

Hoxton emerges from the basement stairs by the living room. His usual smug look was replaced with another one of his usual irritated looks. He reaches out his own fancy little cup of tea. He says this like everyone in the room is fucking stupid.

“Have none of you owned a fucking kettle??”

#payday 2 #sokol payday 2 #dallas payday 2 #hoxton payday 2 #houston payday 2 #duke payday 2 #clover payday 2 #some of them are only there for a few lines

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redfoxwritesstuff · 2 days

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Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 26

Tom Hiddleston x OFC Series rated: M Chapter warnings: Flashback smut AN: Sorry for being so late Dearhearts, Thanks for waiting. In exchange-- Oh! Opps, sorry- I tripped there. Did I? Oh no, I spilled my daddy issues all over the page. Oh dear… Hope I'm still allowed in the blanket fort... Masterlist AO3 KoFi

~~~~~<3

After performing the tuck in ritual, Mia didn’t expect to see Sally again until morning. She was typically a good sleeper and not prone to nightmares so it wasn’t unheard of at all for her to be down easy and stay down for the night. Mia had gotten very lucky with that child, she knew.

Instead, the little girl scared both her and Tom nearly out of their skins not even an hour after seemingly being sound asleep, lulled to dreamland by the sound of Tom’s voice reading her a new book. She appeared in the hallway while they were sitting down for a movie, standing still, quiet and clearly not alright in a way that Mia wouldn’t be able to explain to anyone who wasn’t a parent if asked.

It was just a look that kids got. A look that said the world was shattered. A look that screamed of a shattered heart in the way only a child’s heart could shatter. It was a look that shattered a parent’s heart before a single word was spoken.

“What’s wrong?” Mia asked, seeing the tears in Sally’s eyes though she knew exactly what was wrong.

Part of Mia had been waiting for this moment all evening, dreading it, knowing it was a matter of time. All the distractions were gone now. Sally realized what was missing from her perfect day and that crushed her. It was a pain Mia knew Sally was growing used to. It was a pain that Mia would do anything to take away from her.

“Why didn’t Daddy come?”

Tom froze by the microwave, bag of popcorn in his hand after turning to them. His heart broke for the little girl. This was a pain he didn’t know if he could ever take away from her. He wasn’t even sure if it ever going to be his place to try. The muscle in his jaw twitched with how tightly he clenched his teeth, biting off words and snarls that felt more fitting for his most recent character than himself.

“I’m sure something important came up.” Mia carefully said, “I know he wanted to be here.”

“Something more important than me?” In the kitchen the bag of un-popped popcorn fell from Tom’s hand but no one, not even him, seemed to notice the sound of it slapping the floor.

“Nothing’s more important than you.” Mia wrapped her arms around Sally and picked her up.

“Then why didn’t he come?”

“I don’t know, honey.”

The little girl was clinging to her mother, crying into her damp hair. Mia’s heart broke for her daughter. Nothing she could say or do would change the fact that once again, Sally came in last place to her father. Mia looked helplessly to Tom, tears gathered in her own eyes.

This is the pain of being a parent, her eyes told him. This was what trying to make their drunken impulsive marriage work came with. Was he really up for this? Was he ready for this? Could she trust him not to be another cause of this? Could she risk him being just another scar on the heart of a little girl through the rest of her life?

Tom stepped on the bag of popcorn as he came around the counter. He didn’t notice or care. The thought to busting the bag open didn’t even cross his mind. If it had burst underfoot, he wouldn’t have noticed.

“Why dosen’t he love me?” Sally sobbed into her mother’s shoulder. This was a pain well known to the little girl, he could see that in both their faces.

“I’m sure he loves you.” Mia whispered, rocking her newly five year old daughter as if she was still just her littlest girl and in that moment, she was.

Tom didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t begin to imagine the pain Sally was going through. Seeing it was enough to stab him in the heart repeatedly. Emotions warred within him that he couldn’t justify or explain.

He couldn’t understand how a father would choose to do this to his daughter. Ray had said he would come and though Tom was not eager to meet the man, this wasn’t what he had expected to happen. Any shred of respect Tom had reserved for the father of his step daughter was ripped to shreds.

How dare the man hurt Sally like this. How dare Ray hurt his daughter.

How dare he hurt Tom’s daughter.

His.

Sally was his now.

It wasn’t the first time she had been hurt by her father in such a way. It was clear in the defeated way she cried and her pleading questions that this wasn’t new. This was a repeated pain, a wound that was picked at every missed holiday and birthday.

Without any way to fix things for them, Tom rested his hand on the small back to let her know he was there for her. It was all he could think to do, voicing the thoughts in his head wouldn’t help anyone and would likely be overstepping so he locked them within his heart.

Mia’s eyes caught his and his brow wrinkled with concern. Mia’s eyes turned toward the ceiling as she fought back her own tears, breaking his heart for the two girls who had become central to his life.

While Mia never wanted to see Ray again, she would have given anything for him to have been there for his daughter’s birthday. Sally mattered. Sally was important. Sally should have been his world, just like she was hers.

No matter how many times Mia was left sweeping up the pieces of her daughter’s shattered heart, Ray just didn’t seem to care. Mia was left helpless, no way to protect her daughter from the heartbreak without standing in the way of the relationship.

Sally’s exhausted, red rimmed eyes peeked out from Mia’s shoulder after a while, her sobs died down into soft whimpers. They had stood there, Tom’s hand rubbing the little girl’s back while Mia rocked her. Her arms were tired and she couldn’t really feel one of her hands from below the wrist due to how she had locked them under Sally’s bottom to support her weight. Snot was smeared on Mia’s chest but she didn’t care.

“I wish Tommy was my daddy,” Sally weakly whispered.

The words caused Mia to clench her eyes shut. It hurt too much. A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and traced a wet path down her cheek.

“I know,” She whispered back, voice wavering as Sally spoke the wish made in her little heart as she blew out her birthday candles. The same fleeting wish Mia had, standing poolside.

“Tommy wouldn’t…” Whatever she was going to say Tom wouldn’t do was lost to them. Her words trailed off as exhaustion, mental, physical and emotional all overtook her.

“She’s asleep,” Tom whispered.

Hs own voice was thick with emotions he could hardly put words to but clearly spoken by the watery look Mia saw in his eyes. This little girl was someone he didn’t even know existed this time last month and yet he wanted nothing more than to swear attendance to every birthday party, holiday and event if it would mean she never had to feel that way again.

But it wouldn’t do any good. He wasn’t her father. While they all may wish in the deepest parts of their hearts that he could simply swoop in and replace him, Tom knew it wasn’t that simple. No matter what happened, Sally would likely long for her father for the rest of her life.

“Do you want me to take her?” Tom whispered, not trusting his voice for anything more.

“No,” Mia also whispered, holding her heart tighter in her arms. “Can you get the door?”

~~~~~<3

Mia closed the door to Sally’s room behind her and leaned against it for a moment. There was no way she could calm the raging sea of emotions coursing through her.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw things. She wanted to block Ray. She wanted to call him and demand answers. She wanted to demand Tom never leave. She wanted to demand he get it over with and leave. She wanted to kiss him.

“Are you alright?” Tom had been waiting in the hallway as she set Sally in her bed and covered her back up.

“No,” Rubbing her hands down her face she tried to gather her thoughts. “But I will be.”

“What can I do?” Tom couldn’t help how helpless he felt. He didn’t care what it was he had to do, he wanted to fix this for her. Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, he would do it for her.

“Leave?” Mia said unsure, not really thinking.

“I’m sorry?”

“Just go. Get it over with.” Tears welled in Mia’s eyes. She couldn’t look at him as she walked past him.

He grabbed her wrist as she passed, not allowing her to escape the conversation she had unintentionally started. Her words had struck him like a knife in the chest. It was a pain he could physically feel.

Hadn’t he done enough? Hadn’t he proved himself yet? What more did she need from him to see? What would it take for her to trust him?

“No,” He said it harsher than he intended, then said it again softer. “Can’t you see?”

“See what?” Mia weakly tugged at her trapped wrist, not having the energy to fight, not having the energy to try.

“That I am not going anywhere. That I care. That I- That no matter what happens I will be there for her. I am not going to just be another man to walk out of her life, to throw her away, to throw either of you away.” There was so much more he wanted to say but his throat grew tight before he could get the words out.

“Tom, just-” She rose her arm, trying to yank her wrist free with more effort this time.

He kissed her then, holding her wrist firmly in the air. He didn’t know what was going to happen, he hadn’t thought it through. It was a impulsive action, lips on hers to silence the hurtful way she pushed him away again and again.

He couldn’t put voice to it. There were no words for it just yet, at least none he could put together, that he was brave enough to put together. This way, maybe she would see it. Maybe she would feel all the things crashing inside him.

At first, she was stiff as a board. He could feel the tension in her body through his hand around her wrist. But after a heartbeat, he felt her relax.

“Please,” He pleaded, pulling a hair’s breath away, “Stop pushing me away.”

His lips brushed against hers as he spoke. She could feel the shape of the words as each formed on his lips. Tears fell freely from her brown eyes, there was nothing she could do to contain them any longer.

“Tom,” Her whimper of his name was cut off by his lips again against hers.

This wasn’t alright. This wasn’t safe. She shouldn’t give in. Again and again she told herself theses things but his plea circled in her mind as his lips caressed hers. When his grip on her wrist slackened, her wrist slipped through his fingers.

Then he was weaving his fingers through hers. His hand was warm against her palm, pushing the back of her hand and his fingers against the wall behind them. His arm was around her waist, holding her to him.

When had it gotten there? She didn’t know.

The cool wall pressed against her shoulders as she backed into it, unaware her feet had been moving in the slightest.

Every action he took was carefully calculated to try to avoid hurting her and yet she had shot him every chance she had gotten.

Her heart screamed at her. It screamed how she had been the biggest fool in the world. What use did she have fighting it, fighting him?

Tom willed himself to stop. There was nothing in the world he wanted more right then to keep his lips against hers. Every fiber of his being wanted to show her just how much he cared for her but he had to stop himself.

This was already too much. If anything more happened, he was sure to scare her away. This had to be enough for her to see. She had to see him. She had to see his heart now. She had to see too much. He needed her to see him, even if she saw too much.

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

She was breathing him in. He was everywhere. He surrounded her, arms on either side of her. She was wrapped around him, her leg clinging to his hips. He supported her, arm holding one thigh up and open. He was inside her, being welcomed into her most inner core.

Through half lidded eyes, she struggled to focus on anything. The room spun thanks in part to the vast amount she had drank. Her brain felt like it was resting on a cloud, being pushed and pulled with every thrust into her.

He was in the very air she breathed. He was everywhere and everything.

The soft panting moans falling from his parted lips were the most erotic sound she had heard in a very long time. They sent excitement through her veins.

“More,” She whispered, wrapping her arm around his back, clinging to him.

Her fingers ran through the short curls on the back of his head, nails lightly scratching his scalp. Arching into him, she ran her hands along his sides and back.

“More.”

~~~~~<3~~~~~<3

Tag List: @winterisakiller, @alexakeyloveloki, @jennyggggrrr, @dangertoozmanykids101, @tilltheendwilliwrite, @tinchentitri, @wizardcherryblossom, @buttercupcookies-blog, @violethaze, @kats72, @soulpiercing, @evedia, @princess-ofthe-pages

#tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x original character #tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddelson x reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston rpf #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston x

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ahordeofwasps · 6 months

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Find the Word Tag

I've been tagged by the spectacular @loopyhoopywrites! Thanks for the tag! My words are Fun, Horror, and Idea. I'll be sharing excerpts from To Not Falling Off Cliffs.

But first, the no pressure tags! I'll be tagging @space-writes, @kaiusvnoir, @chauceryfairytales, @deanwax, and open tag! Your words are waver, win, warp, and wrap!

Now, onto To Not Falling Off Cliffs!

Fun

Steve nodded weakly. He had befriended Erika years before her death. A mutual friend, Ambrose, had invited both of them to a wine and cheese party. As a novelty, she had brought the original 1981 edition of Trivial Pursuit for all of them to struggle over. It quickly became apparent that although the game was a struggle to play as individuals, each had an area that they excelled at. Steve was good at Geography, Erika knew a lot about Entertainment, Ambrose excelled at History, Zargun the Destroyer studied Art, Vicky was knowledgeable went it came to Alchemy, and Spot aced the Sports section. With their combined strengths, they conspired to form a team for trivia night at the nearby pub. They had named the team the “Immortal Kittens” and set their sights for victory. They ended up getting eighth place. But that didn’t stop them. They came back for pub trivia week after week after week, failing to secure first place every time. But it didn’t matter. It was never about victory, though they wouldn’t have formed the Immortal Kittens if they didn’t think they had a chance. There was fun to be had drinking with friends, catching up, and playing games. After a few weeks, Steve and Erika were spending time together outside of trivia nights.

Horror

Mrs. Smith set down the tray on the coffee table, finding space for it among the origami flowers. She shook her head. “Oh no! You’re a guest and guests shouldn’t make hosts tea! Besides, this recipe is special! It just came in yesterday!” “Oh, I see…” Erika said, realizing what the shipment was. She then watched in dumbfounded horror as Mrs. Smith poured a deep purple liquid into the teacups. It somehow smelled of fish. “What kind of tea is this?” Erika asked, fighting to keep her voice level as she stared at the purple concoction.

Idea

“Aisle 12, about… fifteen steps in when approaching from the north, top shelf on the left.” Steve was not allowed to tell anyone directly what had killed his client, but he got around it by giving directions to find what was responsible. The pit in Erika’s stomach transformed into full-fledged nausea. Neither she nor their friends liked it when Steve pointed out what killed his clients, but he was insistent on letting them know; he didn’t want to have to reap their souls. When Erika had first befriended Steve, she tried to argue against it, tried to tell him that it wasn’t worth his existence, but he kept giving her directions anyways. Erika would wind up following them out of curiosity. It didn’t take long for her to notice a pattern. Vintage cookware, dietary supplements, microwave popcorn, old aqueducts still in use… everything Steve pointed out were things that Erika and billions of other people could encounter every day. After she noticed the pattern, she stopped arguing with Steve about it. Ignorance may have been bliss, but the idea of ignorance was terrifying.

#writing #writeblr #fantasy #urban fantasy #tag game #find the word #To Not Falling Off Cliffs #TNFOC

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fungiscide · 2 years

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𖣊 ⸅ ⠀ Sevika's Childhood ꓹ ⠀a Non - Canonical Concept of the Upbringing of Zaun’s Scary Lady.

DISCLAIMER : ⠀ This is material is strictly based regarding the portrayal of Sevika in the Arcane Series. I have not played League of Legends ꓹ ⠀so my understanding of the in-game lore is not accurate in regards to her character. Take this as you will ꓹ ⠀this is all my interpretation of her and what I have created. If you guys enjoy this concept feel free to reblog and share your thoughts! I appreciate feedback.

Part One : ⠀ The Insight.

Character(s) Mentioned : ⠀ Sevika ꓹ ⠀Sevika's Father (Bacchus) ꓹ Sevika's Mother ( briefly ) ꓹ ⠀Vander ꓹ ⠀etc.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

" Let's just say ꓹ ⠀I didn't always see eye-to-eye with my old man. She'll come to you ꓹ ⠀ when she's ready. "

Unfettered pipework ꓹ ⠀ stained glassware ꓹ ⠀ a miasma of smog and fumes leaking from the tangles of trench-lines. Before the bringing of Zaun and its clandestine independence ꓹ ⠀ the Underground was a dirtied district plundered with criminals, and engineers aside from chembarons and drunkards. During the years when the bridges weren't discreetly secured by prowling enforcers ꓹ ⠀ when there was unity between the two cities rather than untimely separation. At that time ꓹ ⠀ a mere child with a mother out of the picture was brought forth. Born to be her father’s daughter as she would consider it ꓹ ⠀ and she had his face ⠀ — ⠀ oil smeared and all. To be the right-hand woman ꓹ ⠀ a scary lady in an upbringing. This is her story.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ADOLESCENCE :

The street air was dense ꓹ ⠀ especially during the late hours of the night when factories ignited their steel gears and cinder flecked smoke polluted the air. Large ꓹ ⠀ pilfering architecture derived from stained windows and corroding pipelines sat back along each side of the canal that ran amok throughout the underground. Murky waters soiled by smog and filth were hard to trudge through ꓹ ⠀ and considerably bothersome after a long day.

" Did I ever tell you the story of how I lost my arm ? "

Light from the lamp fixture flickered in his direction ꓹ ⠀ his skin a brim shade of tangerine. Long ꓹ ⠀ dark locks of thick ꓹ ⠀ black hair tied back to avoid the fire. The flame spit its rage as the gusts of wind came through in subtle bursts ꓹ ⠀ his metallic fingers flexed desperately and intertwined around the iron rod he held. It burned ꓹ ⠀ searing brimstone. Heat from the lantern pressed on her skin and failed to cease ꓹ ⠀ it silenced the cold that welcomed in from the draft in the garage they occupied. It was built beside a small laundromat that was resident to a fairly old couple ꓹ ⠀ it was all they could afford at the time. Interior design wasn't a necessity so their furniture consisted of a small couch ꓹ ⠀ a workbench ꓹ ⠀ a mattress without a sheet and a singular blanket ꓹ ⠀ a mini - fridge typically stored with beer bottles and frozen meals ꓹ ⠀ a microwave ꓹ ⠀ and a small television. The neighbors allowed them to use the bathroom and shower in their apartment above the laundromat ꓹ ⠀ fortunately. Sure ꓹ ⠀ it wasn’t a mansion in topside with a veranda and a large garden— but it was certainly home to her.

" No ꓹ ⠀ you didn't— was it scary? " She inquired.

Bacchus chuckled ꓹ ⠀setting the rod down on the workbench in front of him and sifting a cigarette pack out of his pocket. Taking a singular out from the carton ꓹ ⠀ he offered one to her but she shook her head in return which led him to putting them back in his pocket. With the one he had ꓹ ⠀ he ignited it with a rusty lighter and held it tensely on his forefinger before inhaling the toxins. He exhaled shakily ꓹ ⠀ a translucent breath escaping his lips. " Scary beyond all reason ꓹ ⠀ but it was the consequence of my actions. It's a dangerous world out there ꓹ Sev. Promise me ꓹ ⠀ you'll never cross the wrong man — alright ? "

Sevika fell quiet ꓹ ⠀ gazing out towards the city through their opened garage door. " I won't. " Bacchus grinned in response and scuffed up her hair with his fleshed hand ꓹ ⠀ a plume of smoke gust from his nostrils when he laughed.

" That's my girl. "

TEENAGE YEARS :

The district they resided in was fairly quiet ꓹ ⠀ besides the occasional scurrying of common rats and clatter of metal. Bacchus was able to financially support the two by melding and doing repairs on machinery for the manufacturing buildings. A good education for the younger generation in the Undercity was scarce in comparison to the plentiful lot of Piltovian education. Therefore ꓹ ⠀ Sevika had to learn things on her own in order to survive the customs and conditions of the Underground. While her dad hefted large scraps of metal at his job ꓹ ⠀ Sevika spent her days wandering throughout the alleyways and roads of the city. Gathering scraps of her own — preferably coins and items she could sell and bargain with in exchange for money or a pack of smokes. While veering through tendrils of black sewage ꓹ ⠀ she encountered Vander and the two became close during this period of her life and they developed an alliance in order to survive together. Most days they'd meet at the same alley and share a smoke while they pilfered coins from drunks and beat up a few goons in the process. This became a routine for her up until she turned fifteen when Bacchus had discovered the habit she picked up on from him.

" You know these things can kill you ꓹ ⠀ right ? " Bacchus spoke sternly ꓹ ⠀ chucking a box of cigarettes on the work surface. Confrontation wasn't something he was the best at after all ꓹ ⠀ most of the time it turned into an argument between the two.

" Yeah ꓹ ⠀ yet you still smoke which makes you a fucking hypocrite. " Her back was shifted in his direction ꓹ ⠀ her brunette hair curtained over her eyes. Embers burning in her smoldering gaze and anger etched on her face behind the drape of her hair.

A deep breath widened and escaped his chest ꓹ ⠀ " Where is this attitude coming from ꓹ ⠀ eh ? " He inquired with a raised brow ꓹ ⠀ ruffling his fleshed fingers through the scalp of his hair restlessly. Yet ꓹ ⠀ she said nothing in return. " Alright ꓹ ⠀ listen kid. You know I'm trying my best but it's been hard ꓹ ⠀ and you know why I can't be home for you all of the time. " He tried and tried again ꓹ ⠀ but Sevika persisted and gave him the silent treatment.

" Fine ꓹ ⠀ be that way ꓹ ⠀ you damn brat. " Bacchus scowled with bared teeth and the clenching of his fist whitened his bruised knuckles. Dark eyes befell ꓹ ⠀hastily expelling his daughter and his thudding footsteps began to approach the door. Metallic fingers stretched towards the doorhandle ꓹ ⠀ meeting little resistance his gaze swung slightly over his shoulder and in her direction. " Don't expect me to come home ꓹ ⠀ I'll be out for the night and if you want dinner help yourself to leftovers or go buy yourself something. " After that ꓹ ⠀ the door closed and the garage became uneasily quiet.

Sevika felt unease unclog in her veins from the disorientation ꓹ tears pricking at her eyes as she was reminded of the earlier years of their dynamic. Her head cast downwards ꓹ ⠀ as she stood up from the mattress the springs jolted as she arose and walked towards the refrigerator to salvage any leftovers. Sifting through the tupperware of old meals ꓹ ⠀ her stomach grumbled in disappointment after she found nothing to satisfy her to cravings. Fortunately ꓹ ⠀ she had a last resort in case this scenario would occur and it did quite often. Underneath the basin of the sink she kept a small ꓹ ⠀ slightly chipped ginori teacup that held a fair amount of copper she'd managed to collect while strolling through the fissures with full pockets. It was plenty for her to get a single bowl of noodles from the vendor across the street ꓹ ⠀ and luckily the shopkeepers were aware of her situation as a regular customer. With just a few coins she was able to buy herself a steaming mug of seafood stew with a green base ꓹ ⠀ seaweed flavoring and spices with chopped up onions and peppers to add heat. A large tentacle oozed over the very edge of the bowl ꓹ ⠀ the soup trickled into a puddle on top of the counter. Sevika sat hunkering above the bowl as she snarfed down as much as she could ꓹ ⠀ her taste quenched by the flavors. Grease was smeared on every crevice of her face and briefly wiped clean from the cuff of her sleeve with a nonchalant expression. The shopkeeper stood with his mouth slightly agape ꓹ ⠀ in which he felt obligated to inquire ꓹ ⠀ " Would you like another bowl ? I — It’ll be on the house. "

During her years of teenage angst and parental resentment ꓹ ⠀ Sevika hated the way she resembled her father so much. Through photographs and tapes ꓹ ⠀ the very images of her mother appeared as a guise of a stranger — a blur in her thoughts. Most nights when she awaited the return of her father ꓹ ⠀ she laid against the mattress and wondered how life could've turned out differently if her mother hadn't walked out on them. Yet not a tear was shed for she felt nothing towards a woman she couldn't picture ꓹ ⠀ and being so vulnerable would strip her bare in the presence of the underground. For fissure-folk followed the term that emotion bears a frailty that deranges. Each time Bacchus left the house for hours after their arguments ꓹ ⠀ Sevika would lay on the mattress and wait for him to come back before she would go to bed. Every time she'd listen close to hear the grating of the screen door and the drunken faltering of her father’s hunkering figure to know that she'd be alright.

That was until a fateful day came that would change the course of her entire life.

A seething stampede of humanity dressed in the traditional Piltovian attire jostled across the bridge that tied the cities together in complete ꓹ ⠀ harmonious union. Rifles were held and tucked underneath their arms and a first shot was fired on the bridge ꓹ ⠀ a miasma of cinder flecked smoke arose from beyond it and the footsteps grew denser with the crowds retreating back towards the city below. With time ꓹ ⠀ the smoke began to waft further and gradually turn a crimson shade from the bloodshed ꓹ ⠀ flesh and smoke in a pluming mass. Deep cries of agony came from within the hoarse throats of the children and women of the city as they were separated from one another. Children from mothers ꓹ ⠀ husbands from wives ꓹ ⠀ mothers from sons ꓹ ⠀ fathers from daughters. Once the onslaught on the underground was preluding ꓹ ⠀ the bombarding sound of the horn rang and rumbled the ground beneath. Sevika stood beside Vander in an drainage canal whilst sharing a cig ꓹ ⠀ heedless to what was to come up until a rippling of puddles and convulsing floor drew her back to the bridge with smoke that signified an ongoing battle. Embers from her cigarette seared in between her fingers as she became distracted by it ꓹ ⠀ turning to Vander briefly to notice the incensing expression that developed on his etching features.

" Come on ꓹ ⠀ Sev. " Vander brushed past ꓹ ⠀ hitting her shoulder with his which caused her to drop her cigarette into the small puddle below. Watching the embers ricochet off of the concrete ꓹ ⠀ her eyes began to darken with furrowing brows.

" What ? Are you fucking ! — "

He halted to regard her ꓹ ⠀ turning on the ball of his heel and giving her a quick but cold glance ꓹ ⠀ " Come on ꓹ ⠀ keep up. "

For a moment she observed as he ambled along the bend of the passage ꓹ ⠀ sighing and casting her head down she decided to pursue after him. The both of them eventually emerged from the tunnel to meet the discards of what was left of the underground ꓹ ⠀ heaps of bodies and blood besmirched the dirtied pavement with columns of smog. Bullets were littered on the ground in parcels of three ꓹ ⠀ which made it more difficult to sift through.

From the peripherals of her vision ꓹ ⠀ she could distinctively make out the faces of people who were corpses — friends ꓹ ⠀ allies — all children and members of the Undercity ꓹ ⠀ " What the hell happened here ? " For the first time ꓹ ⠀ Sevika sought out unfeigned fear that painted her with wide eyes and tense shoulders.

Vander knelt down with an insentient guise ꓹ ⠀ collecting one of the bullets and studying it transiently ꓹ ⠀ " Enforcers. " His face contorted to a scowl. He loomed above the corpses and averted his gaze hastily towards Sevika ꓹ ⠀ her mouth fell slightly agape in return.

" There has to be something we can do to stop this ꓹ ⠀ they can't keep doing this ! They can't keep killing us ! " She yelled but her voice fell short as the toll of the horn caught her by surprise ꓹ ⠀ taken aback by this she withdrew and began to back up as Vander stood to his feet. It was brief ꓹ ⠀ when the ringing stopped the ground sat still.

" Did you hear that ? " Vander chuckled with sarcasm entangled in his false laughter ꓹ ⠀ " That sound means that they won't stop at any expense no matter what we say ꓹ ⠀ and no matter what we do. " Bruised knuckles idled as he eyed the palm of his bare hand ꓹ ⠀ with the clench of his fist he consumed the flesh of it. " But this time ꓹ ⠀ let's save as many lives as we can from that bridge and not come back empty handed. " There was a flicker of determination and valor behind the glint of his eye ꓹ ⠀ and to Sevika it was easy to recognize what he was implying from that word.

From that point forth ꓹ ⠀ the two separated and went off to scrap together materials and medical aid for the victims — and weaponry of their own that they could use in their defense against the enforcers. Sevika weaved through the obstacles in her path to retreat to the garage that sat untouched by topside. There ꓹ ⠀ she assembled and garnered iron tacks and items from her father's workbench into a small leather bag she had straddled across her chest. Within the bag she gathered linen gauze ꓹ ⠀ a lighter ꓹ ⠀ a small jug of gasoline and other necessities. Just as she stepped back to the door ꓹ ⠀ she met little resistance as her attention was redirected to the brass knuckles that were tucked on the counter. Although they'd belonged to her father ꓹ ⠀Sevika was a believer of the concept of begging for forgiveness then asking for permission.

When she approached the site of the twin bridge the fumes were too condensed to sift through ꓹ ⠀ and her vision became more obscured and the smog thickened with each step further. Gunshots bound and recoiled ꓹ the ear-tearing clamor ricochet off of the buildings that were on the brink of collapse. With each fired shot ꓹ ⠀ the closer it became and the more crimson the plumes discolored to. Silhouettes of men and women handling large ꓹ ⠀ heavy rifles sieved from the onslaught to find and hunt the creatures of the city below. From afar ꓹ ⠀ Sevika regarded the mass of humanity pleading to be spared mercy at the hands of the authorities. In the midst of the plethora ꓹ ⠀ she distinguished the one man she wanted to rescue from the brigade. Bacchus knelt with a threadbare face ꓹ ⠀ his wrists framed in cold metal and knuckles fleshed and raw. Black pupils shifted to meet the girl ꓹ ⠀ his daughter who stood merely a few feet in distance of him. He could discern the fear laced within her features which he once sought to be incapable ꓹ ⠀ and his frame jerked in response to the augmenting infliction on his body from the unbreathable gas. A metallic flavor coated his tongue ꓹ ⠀ which he spat out with distaste and he began to heave dryly with edging breathes. " Don't be afraid ꓹ ⠀ run. " Bacchus mumbled ꓹ ⠀ beginning to succumb to his conditions but overheard the retreating leather boots of enforcement.

There ꓹ ⠀ temporarily he was left lone whilst fettered by cuffs that scathed his wrists. However ꓹ ⠀ as he leaned in to eavesdrop on the enforcers final message for the Underground ꓹ ⠀he grasped that it was not over yet. " We're blowing the bridge ꓹ ⠀ disposing of that evidence and blaming the Undercity for the destruction. We have a minute to leave. " With that ꓹ ⠀ the disembodied voices quieted and diminished to a mechanical whirring.

" Damnit ꓹ ⠀ " Bacchus hastily scrambled to remove the frames that bound him to the earth ꓹ ⠀ reluctantly facing his head upward to Sevika who hadn't been informed of what was to come. " Run ! " From the combusts of his throat he released a scream of agony that shattered the core of the shell. A scintillating light cast a beacon ꓹ ⠀ subtle bursts of spitting pyre gusted in multiple angles. Buildings crumbled and the remains of the brigade collapsed ꓹ ⠀ Sevika had felt her body rise off of the concrete before being thrusted down by a brute force of nature. Her sight was briefly showered by debris ꓹ ⠀ shrapnels and fragments of metal. Glass shards splintered ꓹ ⠀ and a singular fracture tore a line through the skin of her cheek from her eyebrow. After that ꓹ ⠀ she lost consciousness and couldn't collect her bearings properly but from what she could recall was Vander found her before the enforcers did.

That day ꓹ ⠀ Vander liberated the lives of the Underground and for that people owed him an onerous debt — a debt that couldn't be repaid. For him ꓹ ⠀ that day marked the very upbringing of his title as the Hound of the Underground.

As for Sevika ꓹ ⠀ the one man she wanted to save couldn't be saved — or so she had assumed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

* This is not the end ꓹ ⠀ our story will continue in Part II : ⠀ The Upbringing.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

&, ⠀ Afterword: ⠀ Hi loves ꓹ ⠀ just wanted to stop in and say that I am uncertain when Part II will be complete or started due to personal concerns I am being dealt with at this time. However ꓹ ⠀ in Part II I am certain that most questions will be answered regarding the deeper details of what occurred after the bridge ꓹ ⠀ a background on Bacchus ꓹ ⠀ interactions and how she met Vander & Silco — ⠀ and perhaps ꓹ ⠀ a bit behind Sevika's mother ? Anyways ꓹ ⠀ I hope you guys had a pleasure reading this and please feel free to comment suggestions or what you liked about this !

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x female reader #arcane #league of legends #headcanon #childhood #angst #trauma #arcane series #arcane shitpost #arcane lol #arcane women #character lore #vander #arcane vander #villain #character death #character study

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butterfly-writer · 1 month

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Heartfelt Letters

Violet Evergarden x GN!Reader Summary: None!

★☽A/N: I rewatched Violet Evergarden and I cried so much!! I cried at least 5 times! :,(( At the beginning, I decided I wanted to try something different. Anyways, this is all you lovely people who love Violet!!

Contents: Fluff and Angst!

♡ ┈┈・┈┈・┈┈ ♡

It has been a few months since Violet’s employment at the CH Postal Company. Although some of us didn’t really like her, we warmed up to her soon. Since Cattleya has been busy lately, I was assigned to take care of her. She’s been getting good at writing letters. Every love letter she wrote made men's hearts race and women's hearts weep.

I actually believed that she wasn’t capable of writing letters, let alone love letters. But after she wrote that short letter for her friend’s brother, she has been really good! She seems well-educated and well-mannered despite being ex-military.

She rarely asks for help, no matter the situation. The only times she needs our help, it would be to find the meaning of something that’s new to her. I couldn’t help but chuckle when she asked me what a microwave is! She always seems to talk to me, asking all sorts of things..

She once asked me what love meant.. I didn’t really know how to answer that time. Love is complicated and it can’t simply be explained with words but with feelings. I told her, “Love is the feeling you’ll feel with someone special. It can’t exactly be explained with words. You’ll know when you meet that one person who makes you feel special.” She looked confused at first, tilting her head in confusion, before her expression changed.

“Someone special like Major Gilbert?” I nodded in response. “There’s all sorts of special people. Like a “parental figure” or “sibling figure” type of special,” I explained again. She just nodded and went back to work on her assignments given by Cattleya to keep up her usual pace of writing. She was a strange girl, alright..

As the months flew by, it soon became years. She just turned 18, meaning she has been in the company for 4 years. She became more expressive, no longer having a robot-like personality. I was really happy for her! She’s also become much more popular after her work with the princess of Drossel. I read her work and it was really romantic and lovely. I could tell she worked really hard over these four years.

She has also been talking to me a lot more than before. Instead of asking about information, she's been asking me different things. Like my family and such. I wondered why she asked about my family so often… From what I heard from the president, she grew up on the battlefield and never knew her family. I felt so bad for her and her situation. I believed that no one deserved to be brought into that sort of situation.

Violet has also been trusting me more. She would allow me to do things, like helping her with her books, help cleaning her room, and other stuff that she never allowed the others to do.

I don’t know why… But I felt… like a pit in my stomach whenever I talk to her. Like a clutter of butterflies in my stomach. I didn’t know what it meant back then. . But I wished that I did. Because as the years went by, I ignored those feelings, maybe even suppressed them. By the time I realized.. She had reunited with her beloved, Major Gilbert.

I was happy for her, truly! But in my heart, it ached for her love. But I knew that I had realized too late. She was with the one she loved, and I should’ve been happy with that.. But I wasn’t. As a last resort, I asked to see her alone. I held her cold-felt prosthetics and looked at her with eyes I never showed.

“I wish I'd realized sooner… I love you, Violet,” I said in a hushed voice. I didn’t intend to have such a soft voice, but the tears prevented me from having a louder voice. Violet was surprised, but she knew it wasn’t right to lead me. “I’m sorry, Y/N.. But I love Major Gilbert.” Her blunt words were like a million knives stabbed into my heart. My heart ached in pain, I couldn’t stop the tears from pouring.

But, I understood her perfectly well. I didn’t want to stop her from loving the person she actually cared about. I was just a small rebound to her, unintentionally. I just gave a small smile, tears filled my view. I nodded to her and told her that it’s okay, and that I was happy for her.

But in my heart, I wasn’t.

♡ ┈┈・┈┈・┈┈ ♡

#x reader #reader #fluff #angst #female reader #male reader #violet evergarden #evergarden violet #violet x reader #violet x male reader #x gender neutral reader #gender netrual reader #gender neutral reader #violet x gn reader #violet x female reader

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rfxiii · 11 months

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90’s to Ludendorff era Brad (and Trevor) Headcanons

First things first, Brad is dumb; but I don’t think he’s as dumb as Michael and Lester like to believe he is. I think he’s probably uneducated though- like maybe an 8th grade education, where he dropped out of school around fourteen. Trevor mentions to Lester that in the letters “Brad” (Davey, who’s obviously more intelligent than Brad would have been) has educated himself in prison and isn’t like he was before. Meaning Brad’s way of speaking and intelligence level was different enough from Norton’s in a way that Trevor assumes he must have been attempting to further his education while in prison. So, he’s not stupid, but education wise, he’s lacking.

I don’t know if there’s anything he did before meeting Trevor that’s canon- but I imagine he lived a totally normal life before meeting him; probably in his early to mid-twenties. They probably met by chance and Trevor, as he does, latched onto Brad as a surrogate for Michael’s attention, as Michael had gotten married and Tracey was about to be born, or had just been born, at that point; putting a strain on Trevor and Michael’s relationship.

Since I do imagine he doesn’t have much of an education, I think Brad probably worked someplace like a warehouse, in construction, contracting, or maybe in an auto garage. Just some kind of job that requires hands on and technical skills but not a lot of book smarts.

He’s crazy strong- probably from whatever physical labor type of job he had before meeting Trevor.

Brad caught Trevor’s attention first, but Brad was the one who kept hanging around and coming back- having grown absolutely enthralled with Trevor’s way of life and how fucking crazy he was- until they became close friends and decided to stick together.

Brad and Trevor probably lived together at some point. Maybe not for a long time, and nothing really happened to cause them not to live together anymore, they just moved around so frequently pulling scores that they moved out one day and never moved back in with each other.

Michael is a little older than Brad, maybe just a few years. Regardless, after hearing all of Trevor’s stories about Michael, and then meeting him in person, Brad looked up to Michael a lot in the first couple of years they knew each other.

The first job Trevor ever took Brad on wasn’t even planned. Or, at least, Brad didn’t know there was a plan. Trevor took them to some little, 24 hour liquor store on the edge of a small town, pulled in, handed Brad a mask and a gun, and told him to follow his lead. Brad, of course, was secretly scared shitless- but he didn’t say anything or argue because he wanted to impress Trevor.

While he’s not stupid, Brad heavily lacks critical thinking skills. He’s put metal in a microwave, accidentally flashed his gun in front of a cop, considered putting a fork in a toaster to unstick toast before Michael stopped him, lit a cigarette at the gas pump, etc.

He’d only ever smoked weed and drank before meeting Trevor. But, by the time the events of Ludendorff rolled around, he’d gotten hooked on coke, heroin, and meth.

He genuinely cared for Trevor, did a lot of what he did in an effort to impress him, and considered him one of his best friends.

He beat a guy to death with his bare hands in a bar parking lot once. Trevor thought it was cool as hell. But it was honestly really unsettling to Michael, and was the defining moment for Michael realizing that both Brad and Trevor were totally out of control at that point.

Was a terrible driver, like, absolute shit. Michael suggested they use him as a getaway driver on the first score all three of them pulled together- just to get a feel for how he’d handle himself. It went terribly and they almost got caught. He wasn’t allowed to drive again after that.

Got his ass kicked by a stripper once. He and Trevor stopped by a strip club in a town they were staying at and he took her back to their motel and slept with her. They came back the next night, she wasn’t there, so he slept with two of her friends. And when he and Trevor came back the third night, she was working again, had heard that he’d slept with her friends, got pissed off, and smacked the shit out of him in the parking lot. She broke his nose and gave him a black eye- he and Trevor laughed about it all the way to the next strip joint they’d decided to head to.

#I love writing about Brad bc his character is so unexplored there’s a ton of potential #gta v #gta 5 #grand theft auto v #grand theft auto 5 #brad snider #trevor philips

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veryrealimagination · 7 months

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Comfortember Day 9 - Aftermath

William immediately headed to the room that had been prepared before any of them came in. Terrence Meyers and his father made sure that a safe house was prepped and cleaned before transferring his people, James Pendrick, and Llewellyn from the small hospital.

Julia, thankfully, hadn’t lost her license straight out. The tape with her confession on having to operate on Llewellyn as the only doctor able to at the moment had been sent to the board. They were debating on possible punishments, or even if she deserved them. Now, she had taken up residence in the room shared by the worst of the injured. James, who remembered underneath rubble, had slowly been regaining his modern memories as he dealt with the past ones. His shoulder was once again, dislocated. At least with modern rehab techniques, it wouldn’t end up like it had in the previous life.

There was a doctor and nurse pair sent from the intelligence agency, vetted by Meyers and Harry before being allowed to step in and work on the four. Henry was propped up with a computer and offsite access to the intelligence information, barely waiting until the concussion was gone before diving into the investigation as best as he could. George was recuperating from the broken arm and an infection that he managed to get from the exposed bone marrow. The two were bickering and talking while they waited for the worst to pass through George and he could be up adding to research again.

Llewellyn had only woken up twice since his massive surgery, which worried the maternal part of Julia but not her medical background. Impaled through the lung, massive loss of blood, right arm had multiple breaks and his left has restricted blood flow for hours, one leg broken and the other with a jagged, deep laceration. It wasn’t a surprise that he wasn’t more awake, although that meant he was on an IV drip and had nothing to eat for a few days. He wouldn’t be moving for at least half a year, and she believed he wouldn’t be halfway to his old physical self for over a year.

Once he could stay awake, he would go insane.

Julia had taken over a couch. After the first two days of resting and eating from her intense work, she was just watching over her son while talking with James. She didn’t want to leave him until he was able to keep a cohesive thought and stay awake for more than an hour.

Murdoch had been going out with Meyers and Harry, working the bombing just the same as any case back in Toronto. Evidence was being processed steadily, although it was hard getting to the shrapnel and possible fragments left. The people working there were slowly being interviewed for what they saw, knew about Pendrick, and everything surrounding him. It was long, taking the better part of two hours.

There was also a fair bit to go through. Thankfully, there was already a table when he made his way to the room. He laid down the files and lightly kissed Julia before sitting down himself. “There’s going to be dinner delivered in an hour. Harry’s bringing pizza.”

Julia nodded, settling herself down on his side. “A good change from the canned soups Meyers brought and dropped off. The kitchen isn’t the greatest for cooking anything.”

He knew that well enough. The microwave died out when he started using that, and the stove was barely functional. There was a lighter sitting next to it to ignite gas when they turned the knobs. “Hopefully, it’ll be filling. Doing investigations into a terrorist act with Meyers hanging over my head is a lot more exhausting than it was previously.”

She huffed. “I know they’ve had issues with getting money, but a microwave can’t cost that much.”

“What is it, like, a hundred dollars?” a tired voice mocked. James was awake, and starting to listen in on the couple.

Murdoch nodded, somewhat understanding the reference. “One of the first ones I ever took apart was about that much. Mary screamed when she saw I had taken apart the one they were planning on sending to the trash. She and Caleb had to warn me about the dangers of unplugged microwaves.” Julia smacked him. Of course, he would do something dangerous like that.

“It was the first family one. Dad was so angry at me tearing that apart,” James admitted.

“At least you never,” a tired voice started. Julia snapped her head around when she saw Llewellyn looking over, “Had to deal with that from me.”

“Llewellyn,” she said, standing up and going over to the bed.

His smile was weak. “Just fingerpainted on Grandpa’s canvases.” William joined Julia by her side, gently pressing the back of his hand to an uncovered part of his arm. He hadn’t seen him awake at all since finding him in the rubble.

She threaded through his hair. “Those were pretty pennies to replace. Although he told me that one of those paintings sold well enough that he almost wanted to let you keep doing it.” He smiled, then grimaced at something sending a sharp pain through him. “Where?”

“S-side,” he whispered, closing his eyes when another sharp pain went through.

“Do you want a hit?”

He shook his head. “No. Don’t like fuzzy.” Julia frowned, as she didn’t like watching him be in pain. “I’ll ignore it,” he breathed, “Like I do the ‘artbreak.”

“You didn’t ignore that, you stole two bottles of wine while she was out doing interviews,” William ratted out.

“Hey,” he protested. There was a promise weaseled out of him to never tell Julia about what he did after being dumped by Jack.

“Llewellyn,” she hissed. Honestly, she already had a thought that something had happened the two weeks she had to go cross country promoting her new work. Coming home and feeling a change in the status quo between William, Dad, and Llewellyn, she carefully watched them for two weeks. Never quite picked it up, but now knowing there were two bottles that he must have drunk after Jack made her wonder about the time.

“I, replaced them!”

“You, out of all people, should know about underage drinking and how dangerous, and bad, it can be for you,” she said.

“Wasn’t that bad last time,” he murmured, falling asleep.

That frown was more pronounced than the last one. “I think,” James said, “That I will take a walk-”

“Stay down,” she ordered, pointing at him with not even stopping her other hand. “William, we will be having a Talk about what happened.”

William knew how that was going to go. Which, he was grateful for Henry and George managing to get in the door. George had the laptop while Henry leaned on the crutches. “Should we come back later?” he asked, knowing he would get two different answers, at least.

“Yes.” Julia.

“No.” Murdoch.

“Please don’t leave me with them.” James. The last had everyone except the sleeper looking at him. “Mom and Dad are fighting,” he mocked, pointing at the two. George set down the laptop while getting more chairs. William went with him. “Anything on who bombed my lab and almost killed me?”

“A couple of suspects,” Henry said, taking Julia’s chair with permission. She nabbed William’s to look at the computer.

“Good. As long as one of them isn’t Allen Clegg,” he shuddered, remembering the rabies mutation that he made last time.

“Haven’t ran across him yet,” Henry relayed, “Or Sally. She is in the country, however.”

“Ugh,” he moaned, “At least she didn’t frame me this time.”

“William would have seen through it in a minute,” Julia said. “All of them would have.” Two more chairs, and the small group settled to start going through evidence that Henry dug up.

#comfortember2023 #comfortember 2023 #murdoch mysteries #castle reincarnation au #julia ogden #william murdoch #james pendrick #llewellyn watts #george and henry are there for 30 seconds

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bucketsofmonsters · 2 years

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happy 21st!! i hope you have a wonderful day bc u deserve it! your writings are so brilliant and provide me much comfort <3

if ur still taking reqs (absolutely no pressure to fulfil this!), could i maybe ask for a little something where reader and subject 251 settles into domesticity?

Thank you so much, I really appreciate it!! Here's some domestic fluff for ya :)

You’d moved around a lot in the past few years. It was safer that way, especially right after you’d left. But now, as things settled down, so had you.

You cracked open the door of your little cabin and called out, “Hey bud, I’m home,” despite the fact that you were fairly certain he had already been alerted to your presence.

You didn’t see him but you knew he’d show up soon, he never kept you waiting for long.

You cleared some of the knicknacks off of the table to make yourself some room. Your house was full of the things. He’d become obsessed with collecting stuff. You couldn’t blame him for wanting things that were his own decorating his space after so long in that white room. Besides, it made it feel like a home.

On the newly created empty counter space, you dropped the grocery bags you had hanging on your arms and turned to see him watching you expectantly, having approached completely silently. He’d accidentally jumpscared you a few times when you’d started living together but now you were more accustomed to him just appearing behind you.

“This should last you about a week,” you said, gesturing to the grocery bag that had the raw steaks in it.

You knew it would last him longer. He was eating less of it than you knew he should be but you didn’t question where he was getting the rest from. Some questions you’d rather not know the answers to. And besides, you got a place near the woods for a reason.

Other than for hunting, he needed the space. There was nowhere else he could go without causing some massive freak outs and you wouldn’t keep him cooped up like he’s been for so many years.

A yawn overtook you, the exhaustion hitting you as you arrived in the comfort of your home.

You were always tired when you got home, work was too long and you could still feel some of the effects of working in the lab. Finding a job alone had been hard, you didn’t know what to put on your resume. “Took care of secret monsters for years?” It wasn’t exactly an easy sell.

He’d made it his own personal mission to take care of you the second you got home each day.

You had a few mattresses pushed together on the floor that you collapsed onto. A massive bed was on your list of things to buy now that you had a home that felt at least semi-permanent but until then, this was the best you had. He was more than content with sleeping on the floor and you were rarely allowed to sleep on anything but him.

Not that you were complaining, he was warmer and softer than any blanket you’d ever encountered before.

Your eyes were closed but before long you felt him press his forehead to yours for a moment before pulling away.

“Long day?” he asked.

“Just happy to be home.” you replied as you cracked your eyes open to watch him grab something off of the table.

He dropped some warm bread into your lap before curling up next to you.

He wasn’t great at making food but he tried his best. He was built for bigger actions, for running and hunting and not for dealing with ovens so it wasn’t the easiest.

He always made sure you had something, though. Originally he’d started bringing you dead animals but he’d dropped that pretty quickly after noting your less than positive reactions. Even so, he was insistent on providing food for his mate, even if that meant having to learn how to use a microwave.

As you started to get settled in, you realized your sleep-addled brain had forgotten another very important thing that was sitting in those bags.

You jolted up and ran over, searching through them.

“You’re never going to believe what I found,” you called back.

His head quirked to the side curiously and you quickly hid the present behind your back.

You lived in a pretty small town known for cryptid sightings. It was very convenient, a nice way to explain away any sightings that occurred. Besides, people claiming to have seen a monster in these woods happened a couple times a week, it raised significantly fewer alarm bells than a monster sighting anywhere else would.

There were plenty of tourist traps and gift shops, mostly touting merchandise of bigfoot, a little mothman here and there, but on your trip to town today you’d found a few lone werewolf plushies that reminded you of someone.

You pulled it from behind your back with a flourish. “Tada! It’s a little mini you!”

This did not seem to clear up any confusion. “Why do you need a small me?”

“For hugging, mainly. Besides, I think he’s cute. Well, I think you’re both cute.”

You couldn’t imagine cute was a word that many people had used for your wolf-man before but you meant it wholeheartedly.

He laughed but you could tell he was a little flustered. “You’re ridiculous.”

You settled back into bed, curling around your new favorite stuffed animal as your monster curled around you. “Maybe. You still love me though.”

You felt the rumble of agreement in his chest as you nodded off, safe and content in his arms.

#asks #in the name of science #I'm incapable of writing fluff without including naps #Celebration requests completed!!#now i will focus on getting part one of my new series out this weekend like I promised

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burningrosesbythesea · 7 months

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You're a grandpa! (How does it feel to be old Bruce???)

beginning

Batman sat before the Batcomputer’s screen, brooding in its blue light. The three strangers weren’t lying, there was no doubt with the evidence of Magpie’s DNA. Magpie was definitely related to Bruce, albeit he wasn’t his son (thankfully); but when he mentioned this newfound information, Milo and Cindy warily glanced at Terry.

Still, Bruce couldn’t believe he allowed someone other than Cass or Damian to take on the mantle of Batman.

He sent Damian out on patrol with Dick, mostly to prevent his youngest son from scarring the three for life. A tiny and angry 12-year-old with a katana? No, that would traumatize anyone.

Figuring that Kate, Cass, Jason, Dick, and Damian could handle patrol themselves, Bruce decided that he should at least try to get to know the three teens.

. . .

“So basically, the bitch–”

“Miss Cindy, I do have to ask you to refrain from swearing.” Alfred chided, setting down a bowl of cookie batter.

“Holly,” Cindy corrected, setting down a baking sheet next to Alfred, “activated this machine that opened a portal. So Terry had to send Matt-”

“Who’s Matt?” Bruce asked, walking into the kitchen. He surveyed the scene, Terry was in the pantry looking for something while Milo looked at the microwave in awe. All three of them still had their suits on, but had donned off their masks.

“My little brother,” Terry answered, poking his out of the pantry, “he’s also my Robin.”

“Ah,”

“An actual, old-fashioned microwave…” Milo murmured.

“Baba and Otou-san aren’t that old,” Cindy scoffed, catching the roll of parchment paper that Terry tossed to her.

Alfred poured Bruce a cup of coffee, “Two dads?” Bruce wondered.

“Yes, I can see the family resemblance from here.” Alfred chuckled, gesturing to Milo and his spiky hair.

“Damian.” Bruce thought.

He was more concerned about Damian inheriting the “adopting random orphans on impulse” gene than anything really. Seeing as how Cindy and Milo called each other siblings, but looking nothing like each other.

“You’re… part Japanese, right?”

Milo nodded at Bruce, “Cindy has Australian blood, I think. Otou-san found her in a dumpster.”

Cindy threw a spoon at him, which Milo narrowly dodged. “Shut up Minoru!” she hissed.

“Miss Cindy! We do not throw cutlery!” Alfred scolded.

“Sorry Alfred!” she squeaked.

“The entire family is weird,” Terry informed, carrying a bag of chocolate chips, “Like Milo and Cindy’s other father used to be a villain.”

“Terry!” The two yelped in unison.

“Oops–” he spluttered, dropping the bag near the cookie batter bowl.

“Excuse me?” now Bruce was really worried. Damian really shouldn’t have possessed the “attracted to criminals” gene from him.

“It’s nothing!” Cindy insisted, totally ignoring how Milo began chasing Terry around with a rolling pin. “Otou-san gave up the criminal life a long time ago.”

“Not. Helping!”

“I’ll shut up now–”

Alfred let out an amused sigh as he began pouring a cup of chocolate chips into the batter, “My, my, look how much we’re learning today.”

Bruce began to rub his temples from the info overload, “Is that all? Or are you going to tell me that one of you is related to a warlock?”

The three went deadly silent.

“Oh God.” Bruce groaned.

“So back to the story!” Cindy exclaimed, eager to switch the topic, “We got sucked into this giant portal and passed out. Next thing I know, we’re in the same warehouse, but in the past! Where you’re not old!”

Alfred listened to Cindy as he began to roll out the dough to make cookies.

Milo sat beside Bruce, staring at him with wide eyes. At first glance, you could hardly see the similarities between him and Damian; but, upon further inspection, Bruce could see his son in Milo.

“So, are the cookies for the rest of the family when they get back from patrol?” Terry asked as he began to help Alfred.

“I figured that tonight’s patrol would come in hungry,” Alfred said, putting the cookies onto the baking sheet.

“Who’s on patrol tonight?” Cindy wondered.

“Dick, Damian, Cass, Kate, Jason–”

“Uncle Jason?!” Cindy squealed, “Is he coming over?! I have to meet the legend himself when he was young!”

“Schway! Do you think he’d show us some of his old-fashioned guns?” Milo wondered excitedly.

“I hope he does,” Terry grinned, putting the sheet into the oven, “I’m more excited to see the earlier versions of his helmet.”

. . .

When Matt finally found Cassandra, he didn’t even have to say anything before she scooped him up and threw him into the Batmobile before getting in herself and zooming over to the Batcave.

Now he stood in front of Bruce.

“What happened?” Bruce grunted, tinkering with the computer. “I can’t reach the rest of your patrol.”

“Terry– He– Holly–” Matt couldn’t get the words out. His mind raced with the many possibilities of what happened to the three the moment Terry ordered him to leave.

Cass placed her gloved hand on Matt’s shoulder in an act of comfort, “Think, then speak.” she seemed to say.

Okay, what did Bruce need to know? He needed to know why Terry, Cin, and Milo weren’t responding to his coms. Why? Because the stupid machine Holly turned on probably killed them. How did they get into this situation in the first place? They were on a mission– Wait, it was Cindy’s mission. She usually never patrols at night unless she conducts a heist. So when he, Terry, and Milo went out for patrol and stumbled upon Cindy, they offered to help. Cassandra and Stephanie were fine with it and continued on with their patrol.

“We were helping Cindy out with a lead,” Matt began, finding his words, “Steph and Cass said it was okay so we went out to an abandoned warehouse in the historical district.”

Bruce got up and reached out for his cane, “And?”

“There’s this machine that was considered dangerous, so Cindy needed to destroy it before anyone got hurt.”

Matt heard shuffling, and he gulped. He really hoped that he wasn’t here right now.

“We were ambushed by some guards, and Holly turned on the machine. It started making this really awful buzzing sound and it glowed blue. Terry told me to leave and I did–” he choked up, “I heard them talk before their com lines just stopped working.”

Bruce now stood in front of him, grimacing. “I’ll send Steph to check out the damage,”

“It’s going to be okay,” Cass spoke, softly squeezing his shoulder. She had removed her cowl at some point, allowing her short black hair to frame her face.

“Okay?” A voice choked out in disbelief.

Akira stormed over, adjusting his green cloak over his shoulders. “My kids could be dead for fucks sake.” he hissed.

“Easy Akira,” Bruce warned, “you don’t want to be doing something stupid and getting hurt.”

“Hurt?” the younger man scoffed, adjusting his mask, “I can deck at least 3 of your kids in a fight, don’t tell me that I’ll get hurt.”

“To be fair, you can’t beat Dick in a fight.” Matt pointed out.

“Yet,” Akira retorted as he got on his hover-motorcycle, “Tell Steph to wait up, I’m going with her.”

“I’m going with,” the boy said, “Terry’s my brother, I have to make sure he’s okay.”

Akira gestured for Matt to hop on.

Cass fitted her cowl over her head again before walking off to the Batmobile, “Returning to patrol.” she announced before closing the door.

“Don’t do anything stupid, please.” Bruce sighed.

“No promises.”

As the two vehicles zoomed out of the Batcave, the former vigilante’s shoulders slumped, “I’m getting too old to deal with this.”

#original character #oc #terry mcginnis #batman #alfred pennyworth #matt mcginnis #cassandra cain #cassandra cain is batwoman change my mind #dc batman #fanfic #batman beyond

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motownfiction · 1 year

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maybe i do like you -- a lot

Like most Saturday nights in high school, Lola DeLuca spends the night at Katie Sheehan’s house. That’s just the way it goes, even now that they’ve been graduated for about six weeks. They’re trying to fit in as much time together as they can before college starts in the fall. Lola’s staying home to go to Michigan, like Daniel, but Katie’s getting out. She’s going to Central. When she announced her plans, Lola gave her a hard time about them (about why she’d go to Central when she had an elite school in her backyard), but Katie said she wanted to be adventurous. Like Kevin.

Oh, Kevin.

Rather than stay home, Kevin moved away after high school, too. He went to Michigan State, which is only far if you want to whine and complain about picking him up. It’s close enough so that he visits when he has the time (AKA when he wants to do his laundry without paying to use the machines). And one night, in the summer before Lola starts her freshman year of college, Kevin comes home to do just that.

It’s after midnight, and Katie fell asleep about an hour ago. The girls were in the middle of watching Top Gun, which Katie always gets really bored with. Once the movie is over, Lola rewinds the tape and puts it back in the case, ready to return to the video store in the morning. She makes her way down to the kitchen. Mrs. Sheehan’s asleep by now, but she’s always allowed Lola to roam the kitchen of her own accord.

Lola makes better food than I do, she always says.

Lola doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s pretty much true. She giggles thinking about that time she made lasagna, and Kevin ate half the dish. It was a little silly and normal, but then, so are crushes.

She opens the fridge and finds leftover ravioli, which she made two nights ago when she was here for dinner. No use in letting it go bad. She pops the bowl in the microwave and watches it spin around. She sighs. She wishes her mother would get a microwave, but she’s convinced the rays ruin the taste of the food. Lola almost doesn’t care. She’s eighteen, and she doesn’t have all day to stand over the stove.

She hears someone’s footsteps coming into the kitchen, which makes her jump. When she sees Kevin standing there, her heart doesn’t calm down. She forgot he was home tonight. She exhales his name.

“Kevin,” Lola says. “I thought … you scared me!”

“I could say the same thing to you,” Kevin says. “You’re making dinner after midnight. In my kitchen.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure what to do. So I decided to eat. I made the food, anyway.”

“What is it?”

The microwave beeps, and Lola pulls the bowl out. She tips it toward Kevin and watches as the steam flies high in the air.

“Ravioli,” she says. “You want some?”

Kevin laughs.

“You sure there’s enough in there?” he asks.

“I’ll make it enough.”

Kevin grins and grabs a fork from the silverware drawer. He and Lola sit at the kitchen table, trading stories about what the last school year was like. Lola laments not being on the homecoming or prom courts. Kevin laments that he was crowned prom king two years earlier.

“Why would you feel sorry about that?” Lola asks. “I thought it was really cool.”

“It’s really cool if you’re the kind of guy who wants to be remembered for it,” Kevin says. “I don’t want to be remembered for wearing a plastic crown.”

“But don’t you think they voted for you for other reasons?”

“Yeah. They voted for Daniel at homecoming, and I was left.”

“It’s not that. It’s … look, everyone thought you were hilarious. And smart. And nice.”

Kevin laughs and takes a bite of the ravioli.

“I dunno,” he says. “I’m pretty sure that was just you.”

“It wasn’t. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have made you prom king, and I wouldn’t have thought that was the coolest thing ever. Of course, maybe if you hadn’t been prom king, I wouldn’t have assumed I had no chance with you. But …”

“Who said you had no chance with me?”

Lola’s heart skips a beat. For a split second, she wonders if she’s asleep on the floor in Katie’s room, but then, she feels the warmth of the ravioli bowl in the palm of her hand. It’s too real. The heat.

“I …” she starts, but Kevin cuts her off. He hasn’t even been drinking.

“Look, Lola, I’m not stupid,” he says. “I know you had a crush on me. I think … I dunno, sometimes I think you still might, in a way. But maybe I’m wrong. I’m wrong a lot. But I … I didn’t know you thought I couldn’t like you, too.”

“What was I supposed to think?” Lola asks. “You were two years older than me. You still are. It’s just that I’m not sure how much it matters. You know. In theory.”

“Forget about ‘in theory.’ Maybe … maybe I do like you – a lot.”

The words sound like a dream.

Seconds later, the kiss feels like one.

#drabble #ch: lola deluca #ch: kevin sheehan #food #ship: wouldn't it be nice #year: 1987 #asks #kalonkakons #thank you!

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rpf-bat · 2 years

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Flufftober Drabbles, Day 19: Hot Chocolate

I’m doing Tommi/Olli again today. It’s 445 words. ❄️

After years of pining, Olli had finally confessed his feelings to Tommi, during their headline tour in Europe. And, to his delight, Tommi had reciprocated his feelings!

Now that they were back in Oulu, Olli had suggested that they go ice skating, for their first date, as an official couple. He’d imagined gliding across the ice, hand in hand with his new boyfriend.

It would be perfect, right?

…..Wrong.

He should’ve known, that the familiar pond, that they used to swim in during their childhood summers, wasn’t quite frozen enough yet. The ice had held, when Olli first stepped out on his skates. But, when Tommi attempted to join him, the ice immediately cracked under his weight.

Tommi had screamed as he fell through, into the cold water. Olli had screamed, too. But, once the panic subsided, he was able to pull the larger man out of the water, and get him back on dry land.

Now, Tommi was shivering in front of Olli’s fireplace.

“I’m so sorry,” Olli sniffled. “You’re going to catch a cold, and it’s going to be my fault.”

“I’m not mad at you, Ollikka,” Tommi shook his head. “You didn’t know this would happen. I got out of the pond safely. That’s what matters.”

“We should get you out of those wet clothes,” Olli realized.

Tommi lifted his arms up, allowing Olli to pull his soaked shirt up over his head. The bassist couldn’t resist a lustful glance at Tommi’s chest.

“…Or maybe this was your plan all along?” Tommi smirked.

“No way,” Olli laughed. “If I wanted to see you naked, I know I don’t have to nearly drown you to make that happen!”

He grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch, and handed it to Tommi.

“Thanks,” Tommi grunted, wrapping the warm fabric around himself.

“Let me put this shirt in the dryer,” Olli offered, “then I’ll be right back.”

He stopped in the kitchen on his way back to Tommi. He suddenly had an idea of what would help him warm up.

He poured a little milk into a cup, and stuck it in the microwave. When the timer beeped, he added a packet of cocoa mix, and gave it a quick stir.

“Here,” he smiled, offering a mug to his freezing boyfriend.

“Oh, it’s so warm!” Tommi grinned, enjoying the feeling of the cup in his hands.

“Drink up,” Olli encouraged. “Then, I’ll join you under the blanket.”

“You know…,” Tommi winked. “It might not be what we planned, but….cuddling with you in front of the fire, half-naked, drinking instant hot chocolate….it’s not such a bad first date, after all.”

#blind channel rpf #tommi lalli x olli matela #flufftober2022

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signed-yours-truly-the-whale · 1 year

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A Ballerina and a Clown

“When’s the last time you celebrated Valentine’s Day?”

The words ELECTRIC BILL flitted through Arthur’s harried mind as he folded the paper down, holding his half-smoked cigarette in two fingers. Beneath her pink baseball cap shrouding her eyes, Rose was giving him a half-smirk at the other end of the couch. Her drying toes rested on his thigh. The sharp scent of polish was faint. She had come over for dinner and ended up raiding the old makeup bags tucked away in the bathroom.

“What?”

“And I don’t mean throwin’ some candy hearts and suckers in a pink shoebox for yer daughter to take to school. When’s the last time you really celebrated Valentine’s Day?”

“I celebrate it just fine with my daughter; I take her out for ice cream or … the zoo or something,” he said, wiping the smattering of cigarette ash from his trousers. It landscaped across his knee like a stroke of grey charcoal.

“But I’m divorced, so …” The bill waved in his right hand, overriding the warbled static of Gotham’s evening news. “… five years?”

“That’s upsetting.”

He hummed. The Valentine’s Day of five years ago with sex that wasn’t exactly love making and small talk with the woman whom he supposed was his wife over a deli table … was still better than the Valentine’s Day he spent in a padded room in the hospital in ’73.

Rose didn’t need to know about either of those days. Memories of the hospital stayed strictly between him and the sicker version of him, gangly and drenched head to toe in cold sweats and pock marks on his arms from sedatives.

She folded the daily tribune down, threw her feet off of him, and pressed her heels to the floor. In a swift motion, she was arm-to-arm against him. On the paper she splayed wide in his view, the point of her interest was hard to miss.

A Day for Love: Ten Valentine’s Day Specials in Gotham City

“The Royal Hotel’s havin’ a fifty-percent off special. We could get a deluxe room for a hundred ‘n fifty.”

“Still a little pricey,” he muttered, a billow of smoke pouring from his chapped lips.

“Isn’t the point of Valentine’s Day to go all-out and splurge a little?”

Not when there was a $99 electric bill to be paid.

“Can’t we have fun here?” he suggested. “Or the park or something? Hotels probably have bugs.”

Tilting her head allowed him the sight of her widening, incredulous eyes. Her mouth gaped open, the tips of pearly teeth bared. His lips pursed to suppress a grin, alight by her eyes.

“How can you complain to me about bugs when I saw cockroaches in the basement when I needed to use the washer here?”

“Rose …”

“Arthur …” she teased.

The way her pink lips curled, the dimpled crease in her cheek, made his throat dry. He couldn’t tell her what he wanted to tell her when she was this earnestly excited – that he didn’t want to celebrate holidays if he didn’t have to. He could only drum up so much enthusiasm as an adult for festivities he was deprived of as a child. Valentine’s Day always terrified him when Joss insisted on going out and doing something fun that they could barely afford at the detriment of a bill sitting on the table. Having his own way would have limited celebrations to putting their baby in a pink onesie, buying roses and cooking a real dinner (no microwaved meals), and calling it a night.

But his baby was a little more grown, and out of his care this Valentine’s Day weekend. And Rose was tired of roses.

“Can you just look at this with me?” she asked. “Please? It’s in two days; I wanna do something.”

And so he did, rigid with infatuation brushing heat on his cheeks. When she slumped her shoulders so sadly, she knew he couldn’t say no to her.

“Wine and chocolate sampling!” she suggested, a glossy finger tapping with fervor on the page.

“I don’t like either wine or chocolate.”

“You don’t like chocolate? What are you, ninety years old?” she balked, a disgust bunching the space between her narrowed brown eyes. He laughed.

“What did you drink at your wedding?” she asked. “When I get married, I’m havin’ a full fucking bar and getting’ blitzed.”

“I had a flute of champagne that I did not like, because I was not the one who wanted to buy it,” he said matter-of-factly, veering his head to gaze at her. His mouth twisted into a smile as the tip of his nose brushed hers.

“You’re as picky as yer daughter. I’m sure they have alcohol-free wines and dark chocolates,” she stated, turning her attention to the paper once more. Her cheeks plumped with amusement.

“And I’m sure I won’t like them either,” he countered. “But I’ll go if it’ll make you happy.”

“Oh god, Arthur, Valentine’s Day is supposed to be about us enjoying the day together.”

He winced inside, not happy to have caused her exasperation. He knew when she pursed her heart-shaped lips in such a way, she was truly getting cross with him.

Snuffing out the rest of his cigarette in the ashtray, “I’m just not big on going outside or spending money.”

“Well, I don’t like being holed up at home, so we’ll have to compromise, won’t we?” she asked, her bare shoulder hiking up as she shot him a sweet glance. “We can do something we both want during the day, then I’ll pick something, then we can come back here and be together.”

He sighed and rested the bill on the table. “Let’s look.”

A scavenger hunt in Central Park was out (Be real, Rose. Are we really that smart?).

As was a date in the library (You might dress like an old college professor, mister, but I don’t).

Neither of them even bothered to entertain the thought of ice skating as they glossed over #6 on the list.

“What about a movie?” Rose asked, her bottom lip jutting out in a contemplative pout.

“Maybe.”

She flipped a page. Next to the pennysaver ads for pet adoptions and almost-new dishware, splashed across page 8 was a full-body ad for the Monarch Theater.

“Ooh, I do love Jack Nicholson; we could see The Border,” she considered. “Or Time Bandits should be leavin’ soon, shouldn’t it? Maybe we could—”

“Oh, my god, Limelight.”

“What?”

As the air rushed from his lungs, his finger traced the black ink. Limelight – 30th Anniversary.

“I saw this movie when I was a kid,” he said, feeling heady. “I was seven years old and my mom took me to see it on Christmas Eve … this one and Singing in the Rain are the first movies I ever saw in a theater.”

He swiped his hand over his mouth, the smile tingling in his stretched lips.

“I’ve always loved Charlie Chaplin.” A dreamer’s sigh, delirious with adoring. “He made me wanna be an entertainer.”

“You really wanna go to the movies?”

The gleam of satisfaction spread the grin across Rose’s face, showing him her big, beautiful teeth. He made a noise of consideration. The last film he’d seen in a theater was one of those Star Wars movies that Carrie begged him to go see. The eager kicks of her legs in the seat next to his lulled him to sleep for an hour.

“We can go to the four o’clock show and then … maybe go to that record shop that you know I like the next block over?”

“And come back here so you could stay the night?”

To make love to the sound of their vinyl records was a captivating idea. Her music was livelier, more energetic. It put her in a good mood. It brought him just a hair’s width closer to picking apart her funny brain. To have asked him of all people to be her boyfriend, she must be a little mad herself.

She inched closer to him. The small berth of couch cushion between them dipped where she dug her palm in.

“I think we could work somethin’ out.”

They kissed each other with tight, closed lips, a downright tease.

- - - -

As agreed upon, at 3:15 PM, Rose’s yellow car was sat in front of the imperious arches of Anderson Avenue. Late winter snow mushed into the crevices of Arthur’s old shoes, begrudging him with a mess in his socks. He sucked in a chilly breath and buried his hands in his pockets.

“You ever notice your jacket’s the same color as my car?” Rose asked him as he hurried in. A burst of hot air from her overworked heating unit pricked a sweat beneath his brown scarf.

“Never really paid attention,” he huffed. It was a marvel how being so cold could knock the wind right out of him. Resting them between his knees, he rubbed his hands together. The snow crunched beneath the rolling tires.

“Did you get to call yer girl today?”

“Yeah, this morning before school,” he stated, removing his knitted beanie. His matted curls sprung to life. “Her class is having a party with cake, she said. I’m picking her up tomorrow once she gets out and I’ll have her ‘til Friday morning. I promised her I’d buy her chocolate.”

“Is it hard havin’ holidays without her?”

“She’s the only reason I have them,” he admitted sheepishly. “But she’s with her mother because her granddad’s birthday was yesterday and … my ex wants to take family photos with her and her little brother.”

A silence stirred at this statement. Arthur stared at his knees. In his periphery, Rose alternately looked between him and the road.

“Well now you’ve got me to celebrate with, right?”

He smiled faintly. Such victories were so rare, he would be a fool to shoo it off.

- - - -

“Pay up, Daddy.”

Arthur’s thumb- and forefinger stilled in his wallet, honed in on the crispness of a $5 bill. He looked at the hefty assortment of Rose’s desired concession finds, then to Rose’s clacking nails on the glass display, then to Rose herself.

“C’mon,” he said, his shoulders slumping.

“What?”

“I’ll pay for the stuff we’re sharing,” he wagered, sliding the boxes of chocolate raisins and M&M’s her way. “You can pay for your own candy.”

“This is for your daughter, from me,” she countered, shoving the chocolate raisins toward him again. “You promised you’d buy her chocolate.”

His lips pinched. He stared into her shining brown eyes as he handed the bill to the young, gum-smacking worker twirling her finger through her hair.

“The only person who gets away with saying that is Carrie herself,” he grumbled, ignoring the part of him that was charmed by her toothy grin and quasi-generosity.

He grabbed their drinks as she grabbed their popcorn and candy. They treaded the black and orange carpet, wading through a light sea headed for any theater besides their own, easing his nerves. He loved having a theater almost to himself.

“And you know I don’t like you calling me daddy,” he grumbled.

“And you know I have to tease you every once in a while,” she joked. “Keeps you humble. Like it keeps me humble when you smack my ass in bed.”

This earned her a snort. And all this time he believed she asked him to do it because she liked it.

“You are the least humble person I’ve ever met,” he stated.

“Suppose you need to humble me when we get home then,” she grinned with a tilted head, stopping just short of the theater door.

“We could arrange that.”

Pushing up on the worn-out toes of her sneakers, Rose planted a kiss on his lips. Then another. He could grow used to the taste of tacky, fruity lip-smacker if it was hers and hers alone.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetie,” she beamed.

- - - -

“So, what did you think of the movie?”

“Well, from what I saw of it … it was kinda boring.”

Arthur chuckled to himself. Rose had fallen asleep two-thirds of the way through -- not even the entrancement of the orchestra or the ballet were enough to rouse her drooping eyelids. Now she was paying the price with heavy yawns that stretched her dry lips as they perused Retro Valley Records.

“I’m sorry,” he said bashfully. “I grew up watching Charlie Chaplin, so it’s different, I guess. My mom said once that she attended one of his movie premieres, but … I don’t know, I think she was a little lost by the end.”

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, breathing deeply the overwhelming scent of plastic, surrounded by sleeves of records. Of that chapter in history, Rose must never find out.

“You didn’t let me finish,” she stated, a gleam in her eye. “… The ballet parts were nice. I’ve always loved ballet. Did I ever tell ya my grandma was in the Bolshoi Russian Ballet?”

“Once or twice.”

Several times. At least twice she told him that the posing ballerina on her left thigh was a commemorative piece, as was the name on the back of her knee. He would never tire of hearing her talk about it, and smiled as though it was his first time hearing it again. Very few subjects could spark such a light in her voice.

Rose’s fingers danced over the collection of classical orchestral arrangements. In his own hold, Arthur clutched one of his favorite Sinatra records: a replacement for the one that had fallen victim to a certain tyrant’s teething phase seven years ago.

“When my grandma gained custody of me and moved us out to Gotham was when I first started having real memories. She loved music and dance.”

A pink blush bloomed across her sweet apple dimples. She picked up an album with an arrangement of young women in identical white leotards, their tutus almost forming a cloud.

“There were a few Chanukahs where she took me to the Gotham Symphony Orchestra to see Swan Lake up in the balcony seats. Every first of the month she would make pirozhki for dinner and play her operas while I did my homework at the kitchen table.”

Her shoulders shook in laughter.

“She used to get so pissed at me for playin’ rock music and wearing lipstick once I hit high school, she’d come into my room and say, ‘Chert poberi, Rose Quinnlann, you’re making the neighbors deaf!’ And we’d drown out each other’s music from our rooms.”

The tighter her smile grew, the warmer her face glowed in the amber lights hanging above them. Arthur stood awkwardly, hobbling from one slushy shoe to the next, staining the maroon carpet.

“Are you okay?” he asked, meekly glancing at his feet.

“Yeah.” Her trembling breath didn’t indicate as such. “Every holiday just takes some gettin’ used to now, is all. I didn’t wanna spend today by myself.”

She laughed. In the quick glance he spared to her, there was mist in her eye.

“It’s the first Valentine’s Day I’ve spent with someone since she died. Usually I take a sabbatical, but now I got you. Like how ya got me since yer little girl is with her ma.”

“Yeah.”

Like a bullet, she took quick strides to get away from the classical section, leaving him several paces behind as she planted herself at the rhythm and blues section. She scoured the sleeves, not looking quite as invigorated as a few moments before.

“The …” He cleared his throat. “The orchestra is just a block away, isn’t it? Would you wanna go?”

Her shoulders dropped with a sigh.

“No, I’d like to just go home with you. Let’s play Scrabble, fuck like rabbits, and listen to our records.”

The casual use of profanity in such a setting made Arthur’s heart skip a beat. He took a venturesome step forward, pressing his lips to her temple as he saw a smile reappearing in her full lips.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, we’ll make love,” he murmured against her hair. Dropping his voice a notch as he carefully eyed the other occupied aisles, he whispered with a kiss to her cheek, “Save the fucking for midnight.”

She giggled. “You’re silly. Let’s go pay for our stuff.”

So, they did. His clearance shelf finds weren’t the worst records he’d ever gotten. He was quite pleased with himself as they left the shop with their heavy plastic bags. Carrie had complained recently that the music they danced to was “so boring, Daddy.”

“What the hell are they payin’ him to play in this weather?”

Arthur’s left shoulder knocked into Rose’s right. When the crinkle of bags and crunch of thick snow died down, Arthur followed her gaze across the street. Beneath an awning for Novelli’s – an Italian restaurant Arthur and Joss had many a times tried and failed to book for their own Valentine’s Day – a man in a heavy black coat swayed to the rhythm of his lone violin. A man and woman in more refined satin threw a few quarters into his upended top hat as they walked into the shop.

A phantom vision passed by Arthur’s eyes. His arms felt heavier with the weight of a wooden sign, his shoulders aching from dance. Sweat caked on his forehead instead of snow, which stuck to his and Rose’s lashes.

“C’mon,” she murmured, grasping his hand. “Let’s get back to the car.”

“Wait.”

She looked at him. At the soft upturn of his lips, at the gentle sway of his shoulders.

Could he help the way he moved when snow and lamplight made her look so criminally spiritual?

“You’re such an old romantic, Mr. Fleck,” she laughed. He slipped his other hand into her occupied one.

“Just listen to it.”

The freezing tip of his nose brushed a curl on her forehead as he rocked them slowly around. The chill of snow that bled through his jacket was scarcely a concern as the heat of her lithe body pressed to his chest. Her free hand found a home on his shoulder as he cupped her waist.

“It’s been a long time since you had a real dance partner, hasn’t it?” she asked.

“Maybe a bit.”

It probably looked foolish, their dancing in this weather. A few passersby certainly weren’t amused, giving them a side-eye as they careened around the pair. Arthur danced with her until he felt the love contained inside of him giving way to a tear. Then, with a squeeze of her hand, he let her lead them back to the car.

- - - -

Winter wind pricked at the nerves of Arthur’s bare skin like a million threading needles. The cigarette perched in his mouth stuck to his bottom lip as he puffed it away, the tan end dyed with Rose’s lip gloss.

She clutched him gently, a joyful peck tucked into the crook of his neck. Four fine pink lines danced across his body, where her long nails petted him from his chest to his thicket of dewy pubic hair.

After a heated game of Scrabble that left him in bashful red giggles (“I don’t give a fuck if ‘muzjiks’ is a real word, Arthur; get it off the board now!”), they had made love to Rose’s beloved rhythm and blues records for well over an hour. He let her do most of the work leading up to cool down, dancing for him and savoring the taste of each other’s chapped lips. He was only able to tease her for so long before he lost patience and sheathed himself inside her, shuddering in contentment. The intoxicating sight of her face as he hoisted her leg over his shoulder – her brows knitted, mouth open and mewling in pleasure – deprived him of all sense of rhythm and refinement. He learned some colorful Russian vocabulary as she clawed at his back.

She walked to the bathroom naked to clean up after their breathing returned to normal. He moved only to get a cigarette, stretching his arms like a tired tomcat, and to pat the sweat from his shoulders with a discarded shirt on the ground. Their clammy limbs intertwined as they retreated back to the bed, her ankle locking with his calf. His left hand relaxed behind his damp head.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been laying together. The record had long since died off. A sired wailed in the far distance. Arthur scarcely heard it. His heartbeat ran in tandem with Rose’s melodious breaths.

“Are you glad we went out today?” she asked, digging her pointed chin into the meat of his good shoulder.

Billowing smoke like a dragon, “Have I ever told you that you’re bendy like a ballerina?”

She kissed his neck. His brow quirked, pleased that she was receptive to the compliment. Not everyone was receptive to his words like she was.

“Imagine spending every day like this.”

“Did that on my honeymoon.” An orange ember sizzled. He blew out another ashy breath, then passed it to her. “We got sore after a while and had to stop for a week.”

“Well, not every day,” she ribbed. Perching herself on her elbow, she huffed on the stick. It tickled Arthur’s nostrils as she playfully blew the cloud at him. “But every other day?”

He bit his lip, laughing. Maybe. Pulling her down, he kissed her. Mouthwash and toothpaste budded on her tongue. No more of his salt and musk after she’d greedily sucked him off.

“What if I thought of moving in here?” Rose crooned, falling back next to him. He hissed through his teeth, having enjoyed the squish of her breasts against him, her weight and body heat a perfect shield to the blade of winter air. “Just the three of us.”

The tip of her nose rode against his own as his dimples scaled into a smile. Tentative, he pushed the bushel of red curls off of her shoulder, advancing upward to cup her marble-smooth jaw. Turning on his right side, he hummed into her mouth.

“Suppose I should get you two acquainted,” he considered, warmed by her soft breathing. “I gotta get her seal of approval first.”

Arthur touched the silver bead on her lip. Her mouth stretched and her eyes teemed with anticipation.

“I’d like that very much.”

“Between you and me, I think she might adore you.”

He hoped so, for Rose’s sake. There was no feeling quite like it.

Rose staring at him like she was, though, vulnerable to his soft touches and delighted by them, was pretty satisfying as well.

She laughed. A one-syllable hitched giggle. Her nose crinkled.

“I love you, Arthur.”

He breathed deep, trying to resist the tightening piano string winding up in his chest. If he started crying it would snap. He smiled to mask it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, kitten.”

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