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gingersnaaps · 3 years

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"yes" is conditional

the whorification of y/n, courtesy of one kuroo tetsurou and his special... talents <3

wc: ~2.4k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): dubcon, expicit n*fw, brainwashing/conditioning, mindbreak, bimbofication, mental aphrodisiac, exhibitionism mentions, uh implied sexual slavery(there's a cage at the end??), corporate!setting, fem!reader with inner genitals,

a/n: written for @sugawara-sweetheart and her decadence collab!

i don't want minors interacting with my content

The movies always get it wrong.

Kuroo thinks it’s hilarious how far off the mark they can be, honestly. He’s seen countless renditions of what people think mind control is like, and it’s always so corny and contrived - it’s not like he forces anyone to do things they don’t actually want to. He just… makes suggestions.

Nobody actually knows where their own thoughts come from, do they? So it’s almost too easy to place a suggestion or two in the back of someone's mind and pass it off as their own idea.

Most of the time, people are all too happy to comply with these suggestions.

And Kuroo’s more or less content with the free drinks he receives, the frequent raises his boss dishes out, and the one-night stands he easily gets as a perk of his little power. He really does enjoy the gifts other people seem to drop into his lap and the temporary flings he always finds himself in.

But he’s bored.

He wants more. He’s had enough of the short-lived gratification every time he persuades another pretty girl to come home with him.

So when he sees you walk by his office window, with your head always ducked low and your modest outfits all prim and put-together, it’s out of a passing curiosity - just a whim - that he starts his experiment. He wants to know just how far he can go in suggesting ideas and replacing thoughts, just how deep he can reach, and you’re perfect. You’re an unassuming and quiet coworker, you don’t attract attention, and he can tell that you’re one of those good girls just from the way you flush and avert your gaze when he talks to you.

Besides, he’s always wondered what your ass would look like in tighter skirts. Or, alternatively, with no clothes on at all.

Kuroo decides to make a project out of you.

As the days pass, he makes sure to time his coffee breaks so they sync up perfectly with yours. He makes sure not to do anything too overt, though - he doesn’t make you give him your number right off the bat, or ask you out immediately, or even drop any compliments. He wants to play it a little more subtle this time.

You find that you can’t help but take note of him, partly due to his constant presence, but also because you just can’t seem to tear your eyes away. Suddenly, there’s an insistent urge in the back of your mind constantly telling you where to direct your gaze, a little voice that whispers out how good his collarbones look, or how his back muscles ripple out under his shirt when he stretches. Your eyes seem drawn to his - and every time you make eye contact, you start flushing furiously, a tingling warmth spreading down your spine and into your cunt.

When you pass by his office, all he has to do is flash a cheeky grin, wink, and just like that, your panties are fucking soaked. You don’t know why you’re no longer able to control yourself around him, but it must be natural, right? It’s normal to have a relationship with a coworker go from completely platonic to you fantasizing about him stuffing your cunt full, right?

If he’s going to be honest, Kuroo likes seeing how horny he can make you every time he’s close by. He likes the way your face heats up, the way that cute body of yours seems to tense up, the way you cross your legs a little bit tighter when he walks by.

It’s not hard to make up fantasies to put in your mind, either - Kuroo thinks about you nearly all the time, after all. So when he finds himself drifting off in his office, thinking of the way you’d moan and scream and mark up his back if he were to pound you into the mattress, or maybe of how your pretty face would look dripping with his cum as he grips your hair and fucks your face, he doesn’t mind sharing them with you. And the look on your face when he does - oh, baby, it’s so precious.

You must be barely more than a virgin with how absolutely ashamed you act.

And slowly, of course, your wardrobe begins to change. When you find yourself at the mall, you’re no longer looking for conservative sweaters and cardigans that disguise the shape of your body. Maybe you’ve just lost interest in that style, especially with the way you find yourself drawn to the more… vivacious section. Now, you find it empowering to sift through racks of the tightest skirts, of v-neck blouses that give away your cleavage whenever you lean over.

When you show up at work, legs clad in tight stockings and your breasts pushed tight up against your shirt, you feel almost proud when Kuroo sees the way you’re dressed. In fact, when you find your gaze drawn to his, looking into his dark pupils blown wide with arousal, you feel that intense, throbbing heat in your cunt flare up again.

You feel good. You feel happy. You dress this way because you want to.

And when he finally asks you out to dinner, it’s easy - almost second nature - for you to say yes. Why would you ever want to say no when you’ve been so fixated on him for the past few weeks, when your mind has been filled with the dirtiest, unspeakable thoughts, when you’re so undeniably attracted to him?

On that date, you can barely think straight.

You’re just so fucking turned on the entire time, aren’t you? You can’t stop thinking about the way his cock would feel dragging up against your tight, wet, heat, about how his fingers would feel methodically taking you apart, how the flat of his tongue would feel flicking up across your clit.

You don’t care about the food. You barely even notice how much the bill for the dinner comes to. All you can think about is him.

Kuroo finds it almost endearing how tightly you cling onto his side during the taxi ride to your place. He can feel how warm you are, your shallow breaths puffing in and out, the way you tremble when he brings a thumb up to caress your cheek.

His experiment was so fucking worth it. You’re putty in his hands, a little plaything he can mold and shape to his liking.

That night, you are very much to his liking.

You pull him out of the taxi, whispering into his ear how much you’d like to show him around, but he isn’t fooled. You’ve invited him up not because you want to give a tour of your living area, but because you need him, because you don’t really have a choice with the way he’s been conditioning you for the past few weeks.

Barely five minutes have passed before you drag him to your bedroom, stripping off every useless item of clothing off. “Please,” you whimper. “Fuck me. Please. Please. I want it so bad.”

He knows you’re telling the truth, and as he grasps your thighs with his large hands and spreads you until you’re open and dripping, he’s only too happy to oblige.

Sucking gentle kisses along the crook of your neck, he bites at your soft flesh, running his tongue up along your pulse point until you shiver. He reaches down, trailing his hand over your chest and tummy until he arrives at your clit, and rubs slow, feather-light circles that leave you squirming and shaking, bucking into thin air until he grabs your hips and holds them down firmly in place.

He knows you want more. He can tell by the way your puffy clit pulses, swollen and tender, and the way you mewl whenever his fingers brush against your entrance.

“More,” you whisper, eyes wide and pleading. “I need more. Please.”

His cock twitches at the ragged desperation in your voice, and he almost wants to draw it out for a bit longer. You make such a pretty picture - he wants to run his hands through your disheveled hair, all mussed up and soft, wants to hold your face, glowing with sweat and flushed pink, wants to sear how depraved you look into his mind forever.

But who is he to deny you when you’re begging so nicely?

Weeks of pent up frustration have left you so, so sensitive - after all, your short, stubby fingers can’t reach nearly as far as his can, and the angle he’s able to hit every time he curls his fingers in a come-hither there motion isn’t something you could ever replicate. It’s so easy to make you cum when you’re desperate, and he indulges you, making you cream around his fingers as he thrusts them deeper and strokes at your walls.

And when he’s done prepping you, Kuroo finds that fucking into a needy cunt is so much better than just a willing one. Your pussy, slick and dripping wet, almost seems to suck his cock into your hole, and the lewd moan that falls from your lips as he bottoms out sends heat rushing to his core. He goes slow and careful at first - he wants you to enjoy this, after all - but your pussy feels so good, so warm and velvety, that he can’t help but speed up and ram his cock into you until you’re squealing like a bitch in heat. It might feel better without the condom he has on in the way, but that’s okay - he’ll save fucking you raw for another day.

After that night, you only grow more eager. You start doing things you never would’ve even imagined prior to his little interventions - you send him nudes from the work bathroom, slutty pictures that show off the curve of your ass and your tits covered in lace, candid shots of your lips wrapped around your fingers, sucking on them like you would his cock, even pictures of your cunt right after you’ve been touching yourself.

And just days after he’d fucked you for the first time, you find yourself at the pharmacist picking up birth control. You want to feel him cum inside you, to paint your pussy white and stuff you full until his seed is dripping out of you and dirtying the sheets.

Most of all, you want to please him. You want to make him feel good so that he’ll fuck you, offer you some sweet relief from the persistent ache in your cunt that gets particularly intense whenever he’s nearby.

You let him fuck you almost anywhere, anytime. He bends you over the sink in public bathrooms, running his fingers along your folds, or sprawls you out on his lap in his car, his cock deep in your cunt. You don't really mind if other people see the two of you - as long as he's gripping your hips tight, bruising your cervix until your skin blooms black and blue, sticky drool leaking from the corners of your mouth - he could be showing your naked cunt off in the middle of Times Square for all you care.

Kuroo can’t help but beam with pride at the way your demeanor has changed as of late. You used to blush whenever he would make eye contact with you, and now you’re begging him to get you off during rush hour on public transportation.

He likes this new version of you very much.

Months go by, and you find that it gets harder to focus at work. Early on, it was easy to ignore the heat curling in your stomach whenever your thoughts drifted to Kuroo, but now the artificial glare of the screen gives you a headache, and the numbers and letters on the spreadsheets all seem to meld and jumble together until you can’t tell which is which.

You don’t really care about your boss’s performance review anymore. The customers can scream all they like. The most pressing concern on your mind, the one that you just can’t stop thinking about, is the insatiable need for Kuroo to fuck you, to lift you up against the wall and bounce you on his cock like a ragdoll.

Why would anything else matter?

To be completely honest, Kuroo hadn’t anticipated this particular side effect, but he supposes it makes sense that the more thoughts he replaces, the less original ones remain. There’s no longer as much of who you were before left, and - oh, Kuroo really shouldn’t be doing this to you, should he? But he finds that he doesn’t really care, doesn’t really mind, because you look so much better in your tight skirts, so much happier being the slut he’s slowly trained you to be.

He did like you for your personality - he really did. It was nice seeing you cute and quiet, but there’s just no room left for who you were anymore.

We’re all shaped and molded by our environment, aren’t we? The people we surround ourselves with, the places we grow up and live our lives in - it just happened that for you, your environment was Kuroo, and he did the work that society probably would have done anyway - albeit a bit differently, a bit more extreme.

Of course, he’s not delusional. He knows he’s responsible for the way you are now, so when you eventually get fired, he takes you in and lets you live with him. This way, you’re safe and warm and taken care of, and in exchange, he gets easy access to your cunt whenever he wants. There’s no more need for midnight calls or texts, because his pretty little fuckdoll is always waiting for him when he comes home.

He doesn’t have a spare room, but that’s not a problem. He lets you sleep on a couch at first, but the nice, comfy cage he orders for you comes in after just a few days. After all, he doesn’t want all his hard work to go to waste, and besides - you’re content with the few amenities your new accommodations offer: food, water, air, and cock.

Kuroo often finds himself admiring your pretty face, an expectant, needy expression plastered on your features and your eyes glazed over, stuck between the dirty metal bars like a dog waiting for a treat from its owner. He can’t help but think that this is how you were always meant to be, that this is the perfect relationship that makes both of you happiest.

Considering the state you’re in, you really don’t know any better, do you?

if you enjoyed this, please reblog or just drop by my inbox to say hi! requests are open

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mercisnm · 2 years

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Rant: she fidgets

Upon rewatching this scene I've just realized that Tissaia has started fidgeting with things (the rings on her fingers) when she is nervous, as in this scene here where Stregobor tried to frame Yennefer as a betrayer.

You can see in the previous shot her right hand fingers were just resting on her left hand, but once Stregobor started accusing Yennefer of betraying the Northern mages, Tissaia started turning the rings between her fingers. The gesture was more clear to see as she studied other people in the room.

I, for one, still hate the addition of golden jewellery to her look with a passion, simply because they look gaudy as hell. Her complexion and overall character goes better with silver, like in the Ascension ball outfit; mother-of-pearl or ivory would also fare very well - but gold jewellery, and as crude as those the costume department added, would not. Then throw in the partly questionable partly enigmatic character development this season where she gave up the role of a simple school teacher, got tangled in politics, got laid with [fax machine noises] [AK-47 firing] [Ciri screaming], I cannot help but making a bad joke about midlife crisis behaviour, or worse (*).

I think it counts as half a win for book enthusiasts since Tissaia's OCD in the book was quite apparent. I have always thought it a shame that they did not make her that way in season 1, did not utilize an interesting trait of her that deserved to be translated on screen, I kept hoping anyway that they would add something subtle about her disorder in season 2. The rings could be to show her OCD. Since MyAnna's acting Tissaia-wise is precise and concise, I don't think the fidgeting is unintentional, especially when it started only when things started not looking so bright for Tissaia.

imho it is not too late to make Tissaia more book-like, yes, but symptoms of such disorder does not stop at, does not have to be just the fidgeting - it is plenty other kinds of compulsive behaviour. So while the rings might be a thoughtful enough addition (they are not impossible to spot, but neither they are in your face) - they do not seem particularly creative either, plus they do clash with her previous characterization. Remember, this is the woman who, on the most formal, dress-up kind of events, as shown at the Ascension ball, donned simple earrings and her everyday pendant and that was as far as jewellery went for her, no rings were to be found on her hand that day. I used to interpret that detail as a crucial trait of Tissaia: she is aware of her good looks, but she is practical, she is serious, she is stoic; and while she does not force herself to quit the small pleasures of life such as packing and lighting a pipe every now and then, frivolity and Tissaia are strangers grown.

So in short, am I pleased that they seem to include some book!Tissaia's traits to show!Tissaia? Yes, quite. Am I pleased at their execution? No, not at all, could have been done a lot better, the rings and her OCD were just a small part of book!Tissaia that they tried to bring into the show but seems not to go very well, but since Tissaia's story has not come to a close yet, I'll not draw any conclusion except for:

Damn, those rings are ugly.

(*): When you think about it that only after Yennefer had gone missing/been assumed dead and Tissaia had started having a relationship with [Roach neighing] that she started wearing tons of jewellery, the detail about the rings does not sit well at all. It looks as if a dick could make someone as intelligent and stoic as Tissaia dull and frivolous. To be honest I am quite close to calling that a sexist move from the writers, or a move so lazy it actually seems detestable, but again who am I to judge. Let's all hope Tissaia has been playing every side this season. Fingers crossed.

Do NOT bother to leave a reply I don't know how replies on tumblr posts work and cannot be arsed to learn, so if you want to feed me to sharks please do it with the reblog.

#the witcher #personal rant #tissaia de vries #the witcher spoilers #kind of meta? no?#the amount of braincells i waste on this fictional woman i swear to god #should i be mad over fictional characters? probably not worth my time #am i going to do it anyway? yes it's christmas i can afford this kind of stupidity #also i got to see rene lalique's jewellery the other day #coincidentally as i watched the show #and man it got me fuming THOSE are what she deserves not some ugly crude things

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neverminditsnamjoon · 3 years

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BTS Cuddling/Showing Affection (HCs)

In honor of Yoongi’s birthday, here is my first writing project for BTS! Massive thank you to @yoongisshadow for being my partner in crime, editor/proofreader, and providing some of the gifs!! Go follow her if you’re not already--she’s amazing!

Genre: Tooth-rotting fluff, rated PG

Word Count: ~1800

Jin

If he’s chilling on the couch, he likes when you put your head on his shoulder

That way he can rest his head against yours

Has definitely fallen asleep in this position (more than once)

He tends to sleep with his hands resting on his stomach

If you’re there, he’ll fold one of your hands under his, smiling serenely when you rub your fingers in circles over his tummy

If you’re laying in bed, he prefers to lay against your side, with a single arm thrown over your midsection

Will immediately wake up if you move

He enjoys other forms of cuddling as well

Like letting you rest with your head in his lap

“So you can look up and see my handsome face.”

He also loves hugs a ridiculous amount (have you seen those shoulders?? perfect for Hug!!)

Jin will find any excuse to hug you, and wraps his arms around you until he can literally feel you relax into him

Acts of service are his love language

So you best bet he’s gonna cook for you

If Jin doesn’t bring you food (and feed it to you himself) at least once a day, you get worried

You’re his go-to taste tester, and you get stupidly happy upon hearing Jin call to you from the kitchen, “Honey, come taste this for me.”

He owns a Kiss the Cook apron, and he will definitely enforce it

Yoongi

Yoongi shows affection by giving you nice gifts

Sometimes it’s a coffee, made just the way you like it

Sometimes it’s a $1300 Chanel necklace

There’s no telling lol

Whether it’s a four-dollar coffee or something extravagant, the gift is always presented with a shrug and a nonchalant expression

But when you kiss him and whisper your thanks, he’s all gums

“Bad Boy” doesn’t do PDA, at all. However-

He is known to fall asleep at random, and you usually happen to be sitting next to him when he does

Taehyung has an album on his phone just for pictures of Yoongi snoozing on your shoulder, his mouth open

Tae never posts them for fear of his own life, but he’s sent you a couple

One of them is your lockscreen

When it’s just the two of you, he relaxes a little more

It’s a subtle, quiet vulnerability, but you’ve learned to pick up on it

When he gives you a gummy smile after you’ve had a bad day, you know it means “I care about you”

When he brushes his fingers across your back, you know he’s saying “I love you”

When he asks, “are you cold?”, you know it’s an invitation to curl up into his side

His arm around your shoulder is enough to feel how much he enjoys your presence

You toss and turn in the night, but Yoongi is in the exact same place when you wake

“Of course he’ll be a rock in his next life,” you think to yourself. “He already sleeps like one.”

Hobi

Bangtan’s resident Aquarius isn’t always the best at showing his emotions via physical affection

So Hobi doesn’t do any mushy-gushy affection in public

Mostly, it’s just him always trying to make you laugh

Goofy dances, dumb jokes, and silly faces. Anything to see his girl smile :’)

Every once in a while, he’ll give you a colored drawing he made, giggling a cute amount when he sees you’re excited about it

When he’s really, really tired, Hobi gets cuddly

He loves laying on his back between your legs, with his arms resting on them

If he leans his head back against your chest, he can hear the soft thrum of your heartbeat

This sound lulls him to sleep without fail, and it’s the sole reason he gets enough rest sometimes

When you come home from a rough day at work, he holds his arms open to you and squeezes you tight

For a man who’s an actual wordsmith, he can get mighty tongue-tied around you

So he puts his most intimate confessions in his raps

No one will ever hear them, but he utters them quietly to you when he thinks you’re asleep

He goes beet red one night when you open your eyes and gaze up at him with more love than you thought you could ever feel

“You wrote that for me?”

He can only sputter and chuckle nervously in response, but you kiss him and say, “I love it.”

“I love you,” is his answer, accompanied by his brilliant smile

Namjoon

A very loving and sweet boyfriend, as we all can guess

Even being the leader of one of the biggest bands in the world, Joon manages to be a pillar of emotional support for you

He’s always sure to check in with you between practices and recording sessions, or when he’s away on tour

Has never forgotten a birthday or anniversary, treating you to a lovely dinner and flowers every time

He’s never afraid to show his affection for you wherever you happen to be

Sometimes it’s the weight of an arm slung over your shoulders, and a soft kiss pressed to the side of your head

The boys don’t even make fun of him for being affectionate, partly out of fear and partly out of respect because they can tell he loves you so much

When you’re out and about, it’s hand holding

One of your favorite memories is walking down the street downtown, window shopping and judging people together

You’re not sure how Joon makes hand-holding look and feel so cool, but he does

His love language is definitely words of affirmation, but he still likes getting you little gifts here and there, especially while he’s abroad

He knows better than to buy you anything breakable, for fear that it might not get to you in one piece lol

No matter what, they’re always thoughtful

Insists on being the big spoon all the time

So he can kiss the top of your head and wrap his arms around you to make you feel safe

Joon usually wakes up before you and makes breakfast, but on the rare occasion you get up first, he always comes looking for you

Just imagine a sleepy Namjoon waking up and calling out, “Baby?” when you get up before him :(

Jimin

This boy is constantly kissing you, holding your face with both hands and giggling

And he WILL pout if you’re not constantly kissing him too

Always has his arms around you, hugging you from the back with his chin resting on your shoulder

His favorite thing to do, to make you smile every time, is sweeping you along with him for a dance

Even if you’re not coordinated, he twirls you around the room, singing loudly until he sees you smile

“You’re doing great, baby!”

Jimin showers you with compliments every chance he gets

From your outfit to your hair, to your talents to your glowing personality, he’s got a smooth compliment for it

When you’re relaxing in the evenings together, and Jimin is extra snuggly, he’ll push you over onto the couch and lay on top of you

He thrives on skin-to-skin contact and doesn’t care who sees

Because Jimin is babie, and better yet, he’s YOUR baby

He can fall asleep in any position, as long as you’re snuggled up with him

Hands holding, arms around each other, whatever--it’s all good to Mochi

He prefers to be woken up by you, instead of any of the members, because he can get kisses from you with just a second of puppy dog eyes

Will shamelessly flirt with you regardless of setting, and has definitely made eyes at you while he’s on stage or interviewing

Lots of people have one or two love languages, but Park Jimin has all five

He brings you gifts after every trip, and at this point you have more stuffed animals than you can count

Taehyung

Also constantly kissing your face

Highkey loves it when you play with his hair (the man is basically a golden retriever)

He’s known to nuzzle his face into your neck, especially if he’s sleepy

Physical affection (giving and receiving) is the recipe for his happiness

Arms? Around you. Hands? Holding yours. Happy Tae? Check.

Tae is especially fond of giving you his clothes and accessories

If you look a bit chilly, Taehyung will immediately take off his coat and drape it around your shoulders

He’ll take off his hat or scarf and carefully place it on you, even sometimes giving you his necklaces and earrings

Loves doing activities together, whether it be cooking, video games, or being outside

As long as you’re nearby, Taehyung is having a blast

He’s particularly enthusiastic when it comes to supporting you in your career and passions

When you burst through the door yelling that you’ve gotten a promotion, Tae is all shrieking noises and throwing shoes

If you start a new hobby, Tae has pictures of whatever it is and has definitely shown them to everyone who will look

“Isn’t she great?”

When you’re alone together, he always serenades you

No matter the music you’re jamming to, Taehyung is dancing around you and singing it to you at full volume

When he’s sleepy or feeling down, Tae’s favorite way to snuggle is the two of you laying down facing each other

That way you can run your hands through his hair and he can whisper sweet nothings to you

Jungkook

Enjoys receiving affection more than giving, unless you’re completely alone

If it’s just the two of you, Koo will make grabby hands for you to come sit on his lap while he’s at his computer

He’ll pick up takeout and pat the seat next to him, asking you join him for dinner

His hands are literally always in your hair

Brushing, twirling, stroking

Sings to you ALL. THE. TIME.

Sometimes absentmindedly, but other times he’ll show you a song idea and sing it to you shyly

He laughs and blushes a little when you praise him for it

Koo loves drawing on your arms, if you’ll let him, because it reminds you of him

When you’re around others, he isn’t as lovey-dovey, but you notice a slight pout in his lips if you aren’t giving him enough attention

This can be quickly relieved by bumping your nose into his neck, or squeezing his arm gently

But the best part of Jungkook’s affection for you? The way you know he REALLY cares about you?

Homeboy actually responds to your texts.

I know, I can’t believe it either

Koo has been seen many times pulling his phone out during a break in practice and smiling to himself as he replies to your memes and check-ins

The rest of the guys clown the shit out of him for being so babie with you, but he takes it like a champ

Because you’re his girl, and he loves you so much

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fantasy-anatomy-analyst · 3 years

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(image description: eight sketchbook drawings of characters holding a variety of pride flags, all nude and posed in ways that match some old fine art pieces. The nudity has been censored with cute digital flower stickers. end description.)

Characters:

Dalmar, intersex man. Kouto, nonbinary. Chacha, agender. Parva, nonbinary. Xulic and Kidron, genderqueer. Obeli (or Abuela) Moruga, genderqeer. Olli, demiguy. Sajak, genderqueer.

Genderqueer is kind of my default for "well, biologically and culturally, they already don't have binary sex or gender, so they kinda default to genderqueer." And I know maybe some people will be bothered by that, but it's just part of the worldbuilding I've written around all these non-human and frequently non-mammalian species of people.

The uncensored version is on my Patreon page. I do have one more drawing to add to this series, but since it's four child characters I will not need to worry about adding any censors and keeping the original image only on my patreon, as they will simply be wearing their pride flags as whole outfits.

The previous part of this, my binary trans characters, can be found over here.

detailed character descriptions and explanations of the pose references under the cut

Dalmar Ubora, a black intersex elf man with short black hair. He is holding his arms up as he holds the intersex flag, mimicking the pose of Virgin Mary from Titian's painting "The Assumption of the Virgin". The shading was washed out by the photo, but his belly is still clearly round from pregnancy. Dalmar is an interesting case, in that he was assigned male at birth based on his outward appearance, continues to identify as male throughout his life, but finds during puberty that what was believed to be an undeveloped penis was actually just a non functional body part. Instead, what actually developed to full functionality was his uterus. He still identifies as a straight cis man, and has come to terms with his body. He is married to a medically transitioned trans woman, and he could undergo operations to change his body if he wanted to. Instead, he has embraced his body and even birthed some children who were conceived via sperm donations. This is why I wanted a Mary pose for him, and this painting in particular is about Mary being welcomed into heaven as a blessed holy woman. Dalmar may not be a miraculous holy figure, but there is a reverence in the way he has come to love his body and chosen to bear children, including the surrogate birth of his brother's child.

Kouto Hayashi-Loryck, a slender nonbinary elf with black hair tied into a bun. They are holding the nonbinary flag and standing in the pose of a statue known as "Apollo Belvedere", which is so old no one knows the artist's name. One arm raised, one lowered, legs in the relaxed contrapposto pose. Kouto is an artist and an art model. Apollo is a god of the arts, and regarded as a beautiful and sexual figure. Kouto is bisexual and admittedly a very sexual and flirtatious person. They did settle into a happy marriage though (actually they are Dalmar's in-law and the sperm donor for the aforementioned surrogate birth.) Marriage has not stopped Kouto's flirtations, merely limited their targets to a singular person. It felt right to give him this pose, from a pretty well known portrayal of Apollo. Beauty, art, and sex, all defining traits of Apollo and Kouto alike, all present in a pose where the figure seems to be reaching for something above them.

Chacha Faraji, an agender black elf with short hair. They are facing away from the viewer, seated on a stool that is covered by the draped agender flag. No physical traits that could betray their agab are visible. Chacha is sitting in the pose of Reubens' painting "Venus at the Mirror". The arm closest to the viewer ends at the elbow, while they hold a mirror in front of their face with their one whole arm. Their face is seen reflected, smiling, little wrinkles visible by their eyes. I chose this painting in part because it did allow me to obscure Chacha's agab. They were my first nonbinary character, and I never really settled on an agab. But also, I enjoy putting characters who have unconventional bodies into poses associated with Venus or Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty. Chacha is missing half an arm, they are getting older and it shows in the wrinkles on their face. Chacha is also Aromantic and Asexual, the full queer triple A battery. The mirror pose has become an independence of beauty. "Look but don't touch." Chacha is beautiful, and they do not need to be beautiful for anyone but themself.

Parva Turbatus, a white nonbinary elf with shoulder length curly hair that has been shaved down on the far side of their head. They are holding the nonbinary flag, standing in the slightly closed off pose found in Paul Gariot's painting "Pandora's Box". One hand on their chest, one hand held out to hold the flag. They have top surgery scars on their chest and a c-section scar on their navel, though all of these have unfortunately been hidden by the flower censors. I chose a pandora pose for Parva because they have one of the most intense tragic backstories of any of my characters. Like Pandora opening the box, they have suffered through many things but came out the other side with Hope, and healing.

Xulic Vos and Kidron Engedi, a drow and a lizard person. They are sharing the genderqueer flag. Xulic has long ears and white hair in a braid, with a white monkey-like tail barely visible behind their legs. Kidron looks like a leopard gecko, and their tail is acting as a visual block in fron of Xulic's groin. They are standing together in the central pose of Raphael's "School of Athens" fresco. Xulic is pointing one hand up to the sky, while Kidron holds one hand palm down towards the earth. Xulic's chest is visibly flat, however I have rewritten the drow as a eusocial people, who's biology has made most of the common population infertile and visibly near identical above the waist. Xulic's agab is unknown to anyone but them, and perhaps their reptilian lover Kidron. Both drow and lizard folk have biology and cultures that do not really support a gender binary, so genderqueer suits them both quite well. I chose the School of Athens pose because these characters are scientists in fields that overlap, and they often get into deep discussions on the matter. Xulic is a paleontologist while Kidron is a geologist, and they have another friend (my protagonist) who studies archaeology.

Obeli (or Abuela) Moruga, an elderly goblin with sagging skin and axolotl-like frills on the sides of her head. She grins as she holds the gender queer flag, partly draped over the tall stool she is seated on. Her pose matches that of John Collier's "Priestess of Delphi" painting, which depicts a woman hunched over herself on a stool. Old Obeli Moruga, whose title best translates to "grandmother" is a significant figure in her community, both because of her more practical role as a leader and wise woman, but also because she has gained immortality and become an incarnation of Life Itself, after she was given the offer of such power when she nearly died in the goblin revolution. There are many figures that would suit her. Poses from statues of goddesses, like Athena or Gaia. Perhaps turning away from the theme of greek and roman figures I ended up with for my nonbinary group (dalmar is his own thing) and using the famous painting of Liberty on a battlefield. But now in her old age, all those poses of figures in more active poses, tall and imposing, simply didn't feel right. A wise old woman, hunched on a stool in a pose associated with the idea of an oracle, a priestess, a prophetess, felt much more fitting. (goblin culture does have specific pronouns for leadership, and in the common speech they have decided this translates best to the feminine "she/her")

Olli Moruga, also a goblin with axolotl-like frills, standing with the demiguy flag in his hands. He is in the pose of Michaelangelo's statue of Bacchus, god of wine, merriment, and madness. One hand up as if to salute with a cup, body leaning and perhaps a little unstable. Olli is a gay demiguy, stepping away from the naturally ungendered state of his people to embrace masculinity instead. He is extroverted, loves a good party, and has definitely been a little over his depth with alcohol on many occasions. He knows this is a problem. He used to act rebellious because of it, trying to be cool and aloof, but he has since admitted the truth to himself and now openly seeks help. His trans lover, Zaire (seen in a previous post) has become a great support to him. Even though it may seem odd to use the pose of a god of wine for a character that is trying to overcome an alcohol issue, I still feel like the vibe of Bacchus or Dionysus fits Olli well. He is not only a god of wine, but also of pleasure in general, a concept Olli embraces. Wild joy, perhaps to the point of becoming a little feral, abandoning tradition for personal fulfillment. It is unusual for goblins to embrace a binary gender, even partially. Gendered pronouns do not exist in their tongue, only being used in cases where common speech needs to be used to refer to certain significant figures, such as a leader. It is also unusual for a goblin to take a lover outside their species, since most goblins live in fairly isolated places and all mate together seasonally, depositing their eggs in a communal nursery pool. Olli stands out on purpose.

Lastly, Sajak, an amphibious person with some fish-like features such as their finned ears and a barely visible dorsal fin. They are holding the genderqueer flag as they stand in a commanding pose, one foot on a rock, one arm held out as if pointing to something below them. This pose is taken from the central Poseidon statue in the fountain of Trevi. Their head, arms, and torso are covered in dark tattoos in abstract designs, and they also have a few natural dark stripes along their arms and legs. The obvious connection between Sajak and this statue of Poseidon is that Sajak is a fish person and Poseidon is an ocean god. If I could have thought of a more medical figure, I may have made a different choice in the art reference. Sajak is primarily a doctor, a healer. They are fairly well known and they were an important figure on their home island, though they did leave eventually. Even so, there is a certain vibe to Sajak that suits the image of a powerful and unpredictable oceanic god. They are steady, intelligent, and careful, but they can become fierce when their loved ones are under threat, and the intense focus they show in their work as a doctor can be intimidating to see. There is a feeling of hidden power within Sajak, just as there is in the ocean when it seems calm. Fish folk, whether bipedal and amphibious or fully aquatic, also fit under my category of "non-mammalian people who are just kind of genderqueer by default due to their biology not fitting into a binary".

#figure art #figure drawing #nonbinary #intersex #genderqueer #queer ocs #winks ocs #image description #accessible art #my designs #drow #lizard folk #elves #goblins #merfolk

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delyth88 · 3 years

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Loki episode 5 rewatch

It’s been a busy week so it wasn’t until yesterday that I had a chance to watch Episode 5 again. And I was a little worried I might not like it as much as I did on first watch, but thankfully I did still find a lot to like about this episode.

Spoilers below...

Firstly, I think it’s taken this long, but I’ve finally gotten used to this new variant of our Loki. To this overly emotive, sweetly stupid at times, often bewildered version of the character. Let me be clear, he is absolutely not being presented in the same was at the first three films, Infinity War, or even Ragnarok. But I’m finding him easier to watch now that I have no hopes or expectations that he will be the Loki I was hoping we’d get to see again. Sure, I’m sad they didn’t give us a continuation of the Loki we’re grown to love, but this guy seems to be starting to find his feet, and I’m curious to see what his potential is now.

I was again struck by the increased sense of purpose (no pun intended) of this episode. It seems to be going places more so than previous episodes were. And again I loved the opening sequence and the music as we travel through the TVA and then out into the Void. It did make me wonder whether the destroyed city was actually a version of the timeline where Loki/Thanos win the Battle of New York, and that’s as far as the significance of that set goes. My hunch is that we won’t see that long shot of Loki from the trailers in post-apocalyptic New York. They opted for the mirror of the Avengers scene instead as the way Loki finds himself in this place.

I laughed at Loki’s little rant this time too. Particularly the line “plus an alligator, that I’m heartbroken to report I didn’t even find all that strange!”. In fact there were a few moment when I felt we were getting a little bit of Loki’s old humour. Such as, his “Delightful.” In response to kid Loki talking about cannibalistic pirates, “This is a nightmare.” and “Don’t die isn’t a plan, it’s a general demand of living”.

I do wonder though if this is just about comparison with the other Lokis? Like they’re all so very much more on the extreme end of comical that it makes our Loki seem the straight guy in comparison? *shrug*

After several days I am still taken by Old Loki and his story. And on watching it again I was able to appreciate the little moments leading up to his fighting Alioth. He gives the impression of being just so Over It and his crazy comics outfit also directs the audience away from how much he actually cares. For example he is really quite upset at Lokis in general and presumably also himself after the betrayal by Boastful Loki. He says “We cannot change. We’re broken. Every version of us. Forever.”

And he seems quite affected by Mobius’ offhand comment that “it’s never too late to change”.

And then that look back towards Loki and Sylvie as Alioth approaches.

Gah! This is the kind of thing I wanted for our Loki. I don’t have the right words to describe it, but it’s partly the back story, partly the change of heart, partly the stakes, the emotional depth. I’m really quite sad that we won’t see more of him. :(

@scintillatingshortgirl19 you asked me what I thought of Loki’s response when Sylvie asks, “How do I know that in the final moments you won’t betray me?”

“Listen Sylvie, I…” Loki pauses and takes a deep breath “I betrayed everyone who ever loved me. My father, my brother, my home. I know what I did, and I know why I did it. And that’s not who I am anymore. Okay? I won’t let you down.”

To be honest on my first watch I think I just let it slide over me as yet another one of those lines where they keep telling us what we’re supposed to think of Loki (whether it’s true or not). I think Episode 4 might have broken me – I didn’t even blink an eyelid. I think I’ve just heard so many people saying things that I think are absolutely wrong about Loki that I’m just… used to it now? I dunno. Maybe it was just my mood, or the fact that there were enough other things I enjoyed in the episode that I could ignore it.

But since you pointed it out I’ve been thinking about it and after my rewatch I kinda think Loki has been a little bit influenced by recent events and conversations. He’s just watched with embarrassment several different versions of himself strike bargains and then betray each other, in such an extreme example of this behaviour that it seemed absurdly comic. Boastful Loki even says “I betrayed you, and now I’m king.” And as they leave the Loki fight behind Old Loki says “We lie and we cheat! We cut the throats of every person who trusts us! And for what! Power!” So I can kinda see why betrayal is on his mind.

And perhaps this is something he’s been thinking about for a while now. Since he tried to strike a bargain with Sylvie before he even really knew her. Old Loki ask if Loki trusts Sylvie and he says” “She’s the only one [of the Loki variants] I do trust! “

But I guess the way I interpreted it is not just literal betrayal like he just watched with the other Loki variants, but also letting people down. Letting himself down. In this context betraying his father would be the events of Thor 1 where he betrays his father’s trust by letting the frost giants into the weapons vault (I think he’s talking about Odin here, not Laufey), and then by not being able to be a good king in the eyes of his father or even his own standards while Odin was in the Odinsleep. I don’t think he would be thinking of the moment where he lets Laufey into Odin’s chamber because he always intended to betray Laufey and save Odin. Although maybe he feels guilt for that too, in terms of lying to his father. In regards to his brother, I’d consider any of the times Loki is acting against his brother’s interests, in a serious way such as the times that he was evading and fighting against Thor in Avengers, or when he sent the Destroyer in Thor 1 as betrayals of a sort, and the frost giants at the coronation again. And in regards to his ‘home’ I assume from his perspective this is again about the coronation and the events that led to the destruction of the Bifrost and as far as he’s aware war with Jotunhiem. Perhaps he’s thinking of the moment when Odin says to Thor “... you are unworthy of the loved ones you have betrayed!” Potentially he’s also thinking of Ragnarok and his actions in causing it after what he read in his file in the TVA. Personally I think he knows it was necessary but still feels a ton of guilt about being the one to actually do it. In this case it’s a betrayal in action but not in heart.

So I think he’s kinda focusing on the guilt he feels. And I think this is why he feels it could extend to Frigga, although he doesn’t mention it I think we as the audience are meant to assume it. But again, this is in terms of the guilt he feels at a future version of himself inadvertently causing Frigga’s death – as he’s heard this story second-hand from Mobius. You know how if you start feeling bad about something it’s very easy to expand that to a whole bunch of other things you’ve done? These are the times he feels guilty for his actions in hindsight.

I also think he’s kinda lumping a bunch of things together under the umbrella of the wording of the question that Sylvie has asked. I think if she’d used a different word he would have echoed that back to her too.

I also think he starts of with “Listen Sylvie, I..” because he was about to defend himself, refuse to acknowledge that he would do such a thing and minimise it, by saying some version of “I would never do that”. But he catches himself and takes the opposite approach of laying all his faults out plain. Admitting in a slightly exaggerated way that he has betrayed people in the past and he knows it, which he considers is more likely to be believed, and that he won’t betray Sylvie because he’s changed since then.

So I don’t know if I really have a conclusion to draw from this, but I think Loki is exaggerating out of guilt.

But this is also one of those lines that where the character is telling us not showing us. Which seems to have started in Ragnarok and is being continued in this series. It’s frustrating, I don’t like it, but it seems this is what they do now. :/

***

So, it’s taken me a whole ‘nother day to get to finish writing this, and I’ve realised that this is the first episode in a while that has been on my mind since I watched it. I’m actually invested again! Which I was very much not after Episode 4.

This episode had another piece of Loki’s story, in the form of Old Loki, and that was wonderful, and tragic. And we’re starting to get somewhere with the plot now.

And unlike in previous episodes where it looked like they’d left hints of things to come but that turned out not to be the case, I actually feel like we might get payoff for all those comments about Loki’s magic. Probably not in a way I’d prefer, but at this point I’ll take any sort of change that gives Loki a bit more control over his life.

I’m also feeling again like this story matters. With episodes 3 and 4 I wasn’t really feeling it. I hope I’m not too disappointed. lol

I still don’t like the romance, but having resigned myself to the fact this is what they’re doing last week I was better able to watch this. The fact that Sylvie is as utterly incompetent at personal relationships as our Loki does make it more tolerable to me, and if I take it as some weird AU (which lets be fair is exactly what this is) it is kinda cute. In a way I like that they’re both late 30s/early 40s in appearance, not teens or twenty-somethings. It adds this extra layer to their awkwardness and I think brings home how weird tit is that these thousand year old beings don’t know how to be friends if you can do the mental jumps required to believe this in the first place. I still want it to be platonic or at least not taken any further. I will gag if they kiss in the finale.

#loki #loki series #loki episode 5 #spoilers #my review #loki series negativity #loki series positivity #a bit of both

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astarryon · 3 years

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Tame Your Demons

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood mention, implied assault, language, general criminal minds things

Summary: The deal you have with Spencer is simple. You call him to take care of the men looking to take advantage of innocents on the street, and he comes to ensure you don’t kill them before he gets the chance. Unfortunately for the both of you, though, things don’t always go according to plan.

A/N: This is my latest love letter to Spencer Reid and Criminal Minds! Part Two will be posted a little later this week, and will be for a slightly more mature audience, if y’all catch my drift. A big thank you to @reids-trauma for letting me run this fic by her, she’s literally half the reason it even saw the light of day. Enjoy!

Masterlist

––

You see him before he sees you.

It doesn’t hurt your feelings— it’s the norm, in any case, and it’s what typically happens each time you reach out to plan a rendezvous. Part of the agreement is that you get to set the location, and you’re always careful to pick places you’re comfortable enough to slip your way out of unnoticed in case he ever morals up and brings his team to corner you. To his credit, that hasn’t happened yet — though you’re not naive enough to give up on the idea that it ever will just yet — but never subscribing to uncertain chances was a lesson you’d learned a long time ago.

But you know you’re safe for tonight, at least. He wouldn’t be meandering around the bar for such a prolonged amount of time searching for you if there were rows of feds waiting to take you into custody as soon as you stepped foot out the door. It takes a full fifteen seconds before his wandering gaze finally touches on you, another three before the glint of recognition appears in his eyes, and by the time he’s straightening his spine and striding purposefully toward you, it’s been an entire minute. Damn. Someone was really starting to lose their touch.

“You’re late, Doc,” you simper, arching a brow as you knock back a hearty sip from your glass. “Didn’t your mommy ever tell you it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?”

“Couldn’t be helped,” Reid huffs, crossing his arms over one another as he tries — and fails — to sidle up to you in a casual manner. You note the way he avoids touching the bar at all costs, how he folds in on himself like an exceptionally uncomfortable piece of origami. And then, of course, there’s the suit, far too dressy for a place so casual as the lively little bar nestled in the far side of downtown Georgetown. Jesus, the only way he would look like even more of an off the clock fed would be if his badge were superglued to his palm. “Getting away from the others without raising suspicion on such short notice isn’t exactly the easiest thing to pull off.”

“Yeah, well,” you chuckle, taking another sip from your glass. You make eyes at him, pointedly and conspicuously allowing your gaze to rake his lanky, suit clad frame head to toe. He looks good in the outfit he’s picked, the dark black of his jacket drawing the eye to the maroon button down he wore beneath it, and you marvel at the way his chosen color palette sets off his skin in the dim light. If Reid notices your staring or cares, he makes no show of it. Your ogling doesn’t bother him, not like it used to — doesn’t even make him blush, to your admitted dismay, though you suppose that makes sense. Spencer Reid is nothing like the sweet, shy boy he used to be. He’s not so wide eyed and naive anymore, though you’d never expected that to last very long in the first place. Still — getting a rise out of him had always been your favorite part of your arrangement. If you don’t get to keep that going, these meetings are about to become significantly less fun. “That’s the deal, isn’t it? When I call, you come running.”

“That’s the deal,” he mutters, nonchalantly waving off the approaching bartender. “And I came running. So who is it?”

You jut your lip out into a pout, resting your elbows atop the bar before settling your chin against your palms, sparing only a moment’s thought for how low the neckline of your dress must be dipping with the switch in position before casting the worry out of your mind. Were any other man your company tonight, you might have felt more concern for your modesty, but Spencer Reid was far from being anything like most men, and, honestly, the day you caught him checking you out was the day you mentally marked another tally on your side of the metaphorical score board. “Why’s it always straight to business with you?”

“Because—“

“No ‘hello’,” you go on, skirt riding further up your thigh as you cross your legs over each other. Not even a spare glance. Damn. “No ‘how are you,’ no admission of your undying love for me. If you’re not careful, Spencer, you’re going to start hurting my feelings.”

“No offense,” Spencer retorts, sounding particularly unconcerned with whether his words actually offend you or not, “but your feelings aren’t exactly my top priority right now. Arresting whoever this man is before you take it upon yourself to brutalize him is.”

“Well he’d deserve it, if I did,” you tell him matter of factly, swirling the contents of your glass as you pretend to be more interested in that than the eye-catching man just beside you. “This one likes to take advantage of young girls in clubs who accept drinks from strangers because they don’t know any better and still think there are nice people left in the world. Sometimes he keeps track, like it’s a game, and tries to see how many he can assault in a night, and this most recent time three of them made it home all right, but the fourth one turned up in a dumpster. So, yeah, Spencer, you’ll have to forgive me for figuring that if he ends up in a back alley with a couple of bruises and a broken leg he probably got what was coming to him, but don’t insult me by implying that I don’t know how to keep a promise.”

“If broken legs and bruises were all you left men with it wouldn’t be such a problem,” comes Spencer’s dry remark. “Unfortunately for the both of us, you seem to have a particular affinity for leaving men in comas.”

An affinity with which Spencer was all too familiar, you knew — not because he’d fallen victim to your habit of enacting revenge for all those poor defenseless victims, but because he’d caught you in the act with someone else. Two years later and you still weren’t positive how he’d managed to track you down. Spencer had told you minimal things — that an acquaintance on the city’s police force had reached out for his advice on a mysterious case of incapacitated men turning up in dark alleys, rarely little more than a few minutes away from going brain dead. That he’d been surprised to realize you profiled as female, considering the amount of unadulterated rage your behavior presented. That he’d made the decision to do what he could to keep from turning you in provided you help him be able to do so with a clean conscience before he’d even found you standing over some man with a white-knuckled grip on a tire iron.

“Give me your word that you’ll contact me first,” he’d instructed, a shockingly small amount of hesitancy glinting in his irises. “Give me your word that from the moment you call me, I have twenty four hours to find you so I can take care of all those awful men the right way. If I don’t make it in that time frame, they’re fair game, but if I find out that you laid a finger on them before you called me, I’ll personally see to it that you do time for every single man you’ve hospitalized. Can you agree to that?”

And you had. Partly because you had no interest in spending any prolonged amount of time behind bars, and partly because the odd sense of emotional recognition he’d gazed upon you with had been so unlike anything you’d ever been met with from another human being that you were essentially startled into instant complacency.

“He’s in the bathroom,” you sigh, downing the rest of your drink and flagging the bartender down for another. More for show than anything else, though you know the theatrics aren’t strictly necessary. Your drink of choice while out with company is much more coke than it is rum, and after two years there isn’t any doubt in your mind that Spencer is aware of that. “Has been for a while now, as a matter of fact, because he’s pompous and arrogant and wants to make sure the bait is set right for the barely legal girl he’s meeting here tonight.”

“Don’t suppose you want to share with the class the barely legal method you used to figure that one out?” Spencer deadpans, plucking your new drink from the bar and draining a few healthy sips before you even have the chance to reach for it. That’s something he’s never done before, though you suppose his repulsion to germs wouldn’t factor in one way or the other since the drink was fresh. But Spencer never indulged in alcohol around you, and was always incredibly careful to keep his guard up during these meetings. Either he was playing a different angle tonight, or something in him had drastically shifted.

“Only if you want to share with the class why I’ve been tailing this guy for two and a half weeks while you dodged my phone calls,” you retort, never breaking eye contact as you grab the glass and tilt the rim to your mouth, in just the same place that Spencer’s had been. You think you see a vein in his neck pulse as you swallow, but you can’t be sure whether the lights are playing tricks on you, so you decide not to count it. “Not like you to leave an innocent man’s life in my hands.”

Spencer arches a brow, eyes narrowing as he searches your face for something you’re not sure about. “Not like you to wait to hear back from me before doing anything about it.” He pauses, then, and more to himself than to you mutters, “And I’ve never said they were innocent.”

“Guess you’re right,” you mutter, shrugging a shoulder and leaning back in your chair as you let your eyes scan around the restaurant. The man you’re looking for is still nowhere to be found, and with the way your nerves are beginning to fray beneath Spencer’s all too calm and collected scrutiny, it’s hard to get ahold of your imagination as it barrels toward the worst case. “He’s still not back.”

“He’s probably still in the bathroom,” Spencer offers, giving an unconcerned shrug of his own. “You said he was a primper.”

“It’s been almost twenty minutes,” you shoot back, fixing him with a harsh stare. Normally you’d bother to be a bit more vivacious when speaking to Spencer, even in spite of your own irritation, but the sinking feeling in your stomach is making it impossible to pay attention to niceties. “That’s never happened before. Something’s wrong.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” But even to you Spencer’s words sound hesitant, like he’s trying to convince rather than tell, and somehow his lack of confidence only serves to make your throat that much thicker. “He couldn’t have left already, you would’ve seen him.”

Yeah, you would have — provided you hadn’t allowed every ounce of your attention to be monopolized by Spencer. You’d been so preoccupied with trying to appeal to his attention, so hung up on matching him wit for wit and taunting and tempting him with bared flesh and sultry gazes that, truthfully, anything could have escaped your notice in the last couple of minutes. Anything. And if some poor girl ended up preyed upon, if she ended up beaten or assaulted or worse, it wouldn’t be as simple as blaming the monster taking advantage of her. You wouldn’t even be able to blame Spencer for distracting you. No— the only person you’d have to blame would be yourself.

“He’s gone,” you breathe, horror a jagged knife twisting in your stomach. Your hands shake so badly that Spencer has to uncurl your fingers from around your glass so he can set it gently down for you. “God, he’s— I let him get away. He’s gone.”

“Don’t work yourself up,” Spencer insists, and if you weren’t sure your panic was playing tricks on you, you’d have sworn you saw his hand reach out to comfort you, just as you saw apprehension tensing his expression. Of course the one thing it took to get a reaction out of him would be unbridled panic. “Listen to me, everything is fine.”

“Not for whatever girl he decided he liked enough to blow off his date for!” you hiss, and it’s a strain to keep your volume low enough not to attract the attention of any other patrons, but you manage. “We need to— Spencer, we have to stop him! He’s going to hurt somebody!”

“Okay,” Spencer tries to calm you, quickly moving to his feet. You can’t get a read on the way he’s looking at you, can’t tell if he’s taking you seriously or trying to decide if he should make a phone call to he nearest psychiatrist, but he seems to be picking up on the urgency of the situation, so you make the choice to let it go. “Let me go check the bathroom to see if he’s still here. If he’s not there, then we can start worrying.” He turns, taking three steps towards the bathroom before spinning on his heel and coming back to say, “Just— stay here, okay? Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

And as you watch his back as he makes the trek towards the restroom, you think about doing what he tells you to. Truly, you do. Spencer could walk into that bathroom and find the man you’d been planning to turn over to his custody and come back with him in handcuffs, unable to help leveling a handsome smirk at you by way of a silent I told you so. You could be panicking for nothing.

But… if there was even the slightest chance that someone innocent could be in the worst kind of danger, was it really worth leaving their fate up to a coin toss?

You’re on your feet as soon as Spencer’s out of sight, beelining for the exit and dodging between other patrons until your legs have carried you out the door and immediately to the dimly lit corner of the block, lined with the closed shops and darkened alleys the man you were after would need to get away with the unspeakable acts he planned to commit. Even as you book it to stop what you know in your gut to be happening, you can’t help but to hope that Spencer had been right. Things would certainly be easier to stomach, were that the case.

But, as you’d somehow known with sickening clarity, the closer you draw to the dark alley gaping between the buildings down the street, the more prominent sounds of a struggle become. You heard a man’s voice — deep and angry and enough to set your hands shaking and your mind blazing with fury — and then, beneath that, the muffled, whimpered cries of a young woman, the sounds of which were so pitiful that you didn’t need to have laid an eye on her to know that she was already sobbing. After that, all thoughts of Spencer effectively flew out the window. Suddenly all there was in your mind’s eye was you, some poor innocent girl having the worst night of her life, and what you were going to do to ensure that nothing bad befell her or any other girl ever again.

“Hey!” you screech, running head first into the alley. “Get the fuck off of her!”

There isn’t any time to survey your surroundings, to take stock of the fact that the man you’d known would be out here was in the process of brutalizing a young woman — one who looked to be barely more than a teen, to your unadulterated horror — nor was there time to really assess what you were barreling toward. All you knew was that your body moved of its own volition, and it was much too late to think things through once you’d collided so forcefully with the assailant that you’d knocked him bodily to the ground. It was too late to second guess yourself now, to wonder whether it wouldn’t be smarter to wait for Spencer, who could actually, legally take care of this guy. The only thing that mattered now was getting justice for everyone who had been too incapacitated to stand up for themselves.

“What the fuck?” the man hisses from beneath you, but you’re already whipping around to get a look at the frightened girl staring down at you. Her eyes are rimmed red, tears trailing down her cheeks, and to your morbid relief, you note that she appears to have no more than an expression of horror on her face.

You’d made it in time, then. By the grace of some higher power, you’d made it in time.

“There’s an FBI agent in the bar down the street,” you bark at her, struggling against the brute strength of the man you were trying — and failing — to keep pinned down. “His name is Spencer Reid. Find him.”

And that was all you had to say before she was running off down the alley and out of sight, the mercy of her safety striking such a psychological chord that you were just distracted enough for the man beneath you to throw a punch that successfully manages to clip you on the jaw, causing stars to swim in your vision as a result.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he hisses, quickly pushing himself to his feet and leering over you with a sneer. It made sense that he was under the impression that he had the upper hand— were you anyone else, he likely would have, and you’d have been little more to him than a replacement for the target you’d just saved.

But you weren’t anyone else. You weren’t helpless, or defenseless, and you certainly weren’t about to let this lowlife get away with all of the things he thought he was. No — you were someone hellbent on making a lasting difference in the world, and if that had to start with this guy getting his head bashed in, then so be it. You were down a tire iron, but your rage was weapon enough.

You wait until he grabs at your shoulder, waiting for just the right moment as he fully extends his elbow before punching as hard as you can against it in the opposite direction, not pausing to hear the sickening crunch of his bone snapping before rolling to the side, jumping to your feet, and subsequently kicking out his knee with a high heel clad foot. His howls of pain are equivalent to music in your ears, but you don’t pause to revel in the sound before you continue on with enacting your justified persecution. In this moment, you aren’t yourself. You’re not sure who you are, as a matter of fact, but you know it isn’t someone willing to let this lowlife get away with the mass amounts of pain and terror he’s inflicted on so many innocents.

“You like that, baby?” you snarl, letting your foot fly against his unprotected ribcage over and over again between sentences. “Does that feel good? Hmm?”

“You—“ The man cuts himself off with a hacked cough, spluttering and moaning as blood trickles down his chin. You’re not sure if that’s because you’ve kicked him in the face without noticing or because you’ve done enough damage to have already caused internal bleeding, but you’re not overly focused on figuring it out. “You psychotic— bitch,” he spits, and the hatred he gazes up at you with is so potent that you can’t help the wicked grin that curls across your mouth in response.

“That’s right,” you murmur, hovering your foot over the center of his chest for just a moment before digging your heel into his sternum. The harder you press, the louder he roars, and the louder he roars, the more you’re inclined to ensure that his screams continue. It’s a vicious cycle, but one you’re much too fond of to let go. “I’m a crazy, psychotic bitch because I’m a woman who stands up for herself and other women, and because I won’t let shitbags like you take advantage of us. Do you even know how old that girl was?”

His face contorts in pain, hands flying to your ankle in an attempt to pry your foot off his chest, but with one arm out of commission and pain proving to be too much of a distraction, he doesn’t manage to make any significant progress in alleviating your attacks. “Fuck you,” he hisses, but even to your ears, the vulgar words sound weak and reedy.

“I’m sure you’d like to,” you shoot back, digging your heel in that much further. You wait until you see tears welling in the corners of his eyes before letting any of the pressure up, and when you’re sure he’s hurting too badly to try and pull a fast one on you, you step off his chest and kneel to the ground, straddling his torso before your hands snake up to form a necklace at his throat. “You’re not used to girls fighting back, are you? You’re not used to anyone putting up a fight, and because of that you think you can just take whatever you want. Is that right?”

His eyes bulge out of their sockets as you begin to squeeze, hissed obscenities caught in his throat with nowhere to go, and the more he claws at the manacles your hands form, the tighter you let your grip become. It’s power, what you feel as you reconcile with the fact that you’re now quite literally holding this man’s life in your hands, and for a moment, you forget everything else. That you were only in this situation because you’d set out to save someone, that you’d sent that very same someone to go and fetch Spencer to come resolve all of this, that you weren’t an angel of death enacting revenge upon those who rightfully deserved what was coming to them. All those things washed away in the night, in just the same way as the beginning rainfall washed the man’s blood onto the ground in runny pink ribbons. It was only you and him, now. Nothing else mattered.

“You know, it’s men like you,” you snarl, squeezing so tightly against his throat that your knuckles go white and your fingers stiff, “that make people afraid to walk home alone at night. To send their kids off to college, to let their little ones grow up and experience the world. Because there are always— always monsters like you just waiting to take advantage of us. And no one’s ever made you pay for that, before, have they? That’s why you’re still so cocky, and confident enough to pull this shit out in the open because you know you’ll get away with it.”

Distantly, in the back of your mind, you think you hear someone calling your name. It’s hard to say for certain; with how focused you are on enacting revenge, on making sure this lowlife feels every single ounce of pain he’s ever managed to inflict on another unsuspecting human, your senses aren’t left with much more of an attention span. Even if they had been, you wouldn’t have bothered using it. Your fury, burning your nerves like hellfire, proves such a strong beacon of desire that you have no choice but to indulge. It feels good, the way his breath catches beneath where the heel of your palm digs into his throat, and you can tell by the way his eyes are beginning to cloud that if you keep it up, if you press just a little harder, squeeze just a little more—

Warm, strong arms snake around your middle, forming an inescapable cage of iron trying to pry you off the man beneath you, and the primal snarl that rips from your throat in response is a clear threat, but it does nothing to deter them. Hyperfixated as you are on finishing the job and ensuring that the man on the ground never lives to breathe another day, you don’t have the attention to spare, but your subconscious takes in the sharp scent of cloves filling your nostrils, the soft brush of curls against your shoulder, the domineering grip shackling your wrist maintaining a surprising air of gentleness. Your name is hurriedly whispered into your ear once, twice, three times, and by the fourth round you realize they’re not whispers at all — they’re shouts.

“Let go of him,” Spencer barks, bruising your ribs with how harshly he yanks you backwards. “Listen to me, listen to me. Let go of him.”

“Get off me!” you hiss in pain, stars dancing across your vision as you feel a slight bend in one of your bones, throwing an elbow back in retaliation. It lands square on his chest, and though the resulting grunt of pain he gives is certainly satisfying, it isn’t worth the grip you lose on the man’s neck. Once you’re down by one hand, it isn’t at all difficult for Spencer to wrench the second one back, and before you know it you’re a good ten feet down the alley, kicking and screaming wildly against Spencer’s grip as the monster you’d nearly strangled to death sputtered his way back to life.

“Calm down,” Spencer snaps, voice deep and low in your ear as he adjusts his grip around your torso so that you’re more fully pressed agains his body. “You need to breathe, do you hear me? Snap out of it. She’s okay. You got here in time and she’s okay. She’s safe, and you’re safe. Calm down. Calm down.”

You want to tell Spencer that he’s wrong. That you can’t be safe, that no one can be, so long as the man groaning on the ground across the alley is allowed to keep breathing. That this man can’t be allowed to live another day, waiting for the next opportunity to take advantage of an unsuspecting stranger who didn’t know any better. That it would be better to put him down now than to wait around for him to fuck up all over again, to ruin someone else’s life.

So you do.

Or, you try to. But all that manages to leave your mouth is little more than bent sobs and broken screams.

“It’s okay,” Spencer goes on, “it’s alright. Everything’s alright.” He uses the grip he’s got on your arm to spin you around, muffling your sobs as he brings your head against his chest and keeps it there with a gentle hand rested against the back of your head. Your body’s shaking so badly against his that, with your eyes still closed, you’re certain you’re still struggling to free yourself from his grip. It isn’t until you feel your fingers — numb with cold and shock and adrenaline — curl into his jacket that you realize you’re holding onto him for dear life. “Just breathe. Just breathe. You’re okay.”

“He was going to—“ You cut yourself off with a choked sob, shaking your head profusely. “He was going to—“

“I know,” Spencer murmurs, “I know. You don’t have to explain, just breathe.”

You hate this — that he’s caught you in such a vulnerable position, that he’s bearing witness to the rapid decline of your mental state. You hate that this is what it took to finally get him to wrap his arms around you, to offer words of reassurance and certainty rather than fixing you with unimpressed looks and exasperated eye rolls. Most of all, though, you hate that he’s now seen you at your worst, and that, going forward, he’ll never quite be able to dissociate you from the monster you truly are.

You don’t know how long he holds you there, murmuring insistent reassurances into your ear as he holds you gently to his chest. For how at odds it is with every other interaction you’d had with him — those ones where he’d roll his eyes, wave you off, regard you as little more than a vapid, spoiled brat who was all too used to getting her way — it’s nearly impossible to reconcile how you’d grown used to being treated with how you were being treated now. And though it’s certainly the last thing your mind should be focussing on, though you really don’t have the mental capacity required to work through this on top of everything else, you can’t help but come to the realization that you’re actually quite fond of the change.

A voice from across the alley cuts through the careful atmosphere of misguided comfort Spencer has crafted for you, and though he won’t let you turn around — actually goes so far as to squeeze his arms more tightly around your middle so that you can’t — the very sound of the man’s voice sends you dangerously close to the edge of the precipice all over again. “Are you… the fed that bitch was talking about?” His voice is hoarse, and half his words come out in broken hacks. It’s childish in the most juvenile of ways, but you can’t help the twinge of satisfaction that sparks to life in your blood. “Arrest her! She tried to kill me!”

“Actually,” Spencer mutters darkly in response, “from where I’m standing and from what that high school senior told me, she was only trying to stop you from committing assault. If anyone here is getting arrested tonight, it’s you.”

“Are you— are you fucking serious?” The blatant shock shooting his cracked voice up two octaves might have been funny, were the situation that led to it not so horribly severe. “She broke my fucking leg!”

“Thing is,” Spencer shoots back, never even missing a beat, “they do a lot worse to rapists in prison. I’d know— I’ve seen it.” The way his voice drops as the words tumble from his mouth catches your attention, but you don’t have the time to properly contemplate asking why before he’s going on. “You ask me, she went a little too easy on you. Remember that when you finally get what’s coming to you.”

And then Spencer’s calmly leading you away, maintaining a gentle yet firm grip on your waist to keep you from trying to look back. Even if you could, you don’t imagine you’d be much inclined to. You have no remorse for what you’d nearly done, and, truthfully, you’d left men in far worse states in the past. You know that; Spencer does, too. Yet, even in spite of that, even in spite of the fact that this was the second night he’d born witness to you attempting to kill a man, his touch on your body remains soft, and he curls over you like a protective blanket.

“We can’t just leave him,” you find the strength to whisper once you’ve put a healthy amount of distance between you and the alley’s opening. The street lights grow brighter the closer the two of you get to the bar, and you’d never admit it out loud, but it makes you feel that much safer. “He’ll get away. You need to… you need to go back.”

“I called the police as soon as I went to go check the bathroom,” Spencer tells you, leading you back into the safety of the bar. Suddenly surrounded by the sounds of raucous laughter and joyful whoops, it’s almost easy to forget what just occurred outside — almost. “They were on standby in case anything went wrong, but I had them hang back until I could get you out of there safely. They’re probably in the middle of cuffing him now.”

“And the girl?” you ask, so dazed that you don’t even protest or make any sort of snappy remark as Spencer gently helps you into a secluded corner booth. “She’s... you made sure she got home safe?”

“I called her a taxi and gave her my phone number,” Spencer answers, fixing you with as reassuring a stare as he can manage. “She’s going to give me a call in the morning about pressing charges. She was scared and a little banged up, but he didn’t... nothing happened. You stopped it before it could.”

You’re too weak to do anything with the knowledge but nod and sink down to the table, protectively covering your head with your arms as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to breathe. Dark thoughts, thoughts twisted in rage and a deeply intense need to protect, continue swirling through your mind, and if you’d thought catching your breath was impossible before, it’s effectively become something of an Olympic sport now, though the reasoning for why effectively evades your understanding. What you’d been through tonight, what you’d been ready to do to that man — if he could even be called a man — isn’t anything that’s never happened before. Hell, scum like that were the very reason you’d gotten caught up with Spencer in the first place.

But… something’s different now. You can tell by the way the oxygen rattles through your lungs, the way you can’t still your shaking fingers as they clatter against the tabletop. You don’t know what it is, where it’s come from, or how to stop it, but it’s there, and you can feel it.

Fingers softly brush up against one of your wrists, startling you so forcefully from your reverie that you can’t help the cry of shock that drops from your mouth as you yank your arm back with as much urgency as if you’d been burned. Seconds pass, then ten, then thirty, and even as your subconscious mind works double time to interpret the concerned light in Spencer’s eyes in response to his touch, you remain unable to fully come back to the present.

“You need to eat something,” he tells you, casting his eyes back down to the table. It’s a testament to how much time has passed that there are now two glasses of water covered in condensation that, up until this point, you’d not even been aware were present. “It’ll help with the shock.”

“I’m not going into shock,” you mutter, squeezing your hands together and resting them in front of you. Spencer catches sight, but if he has something to say about it he keeps it to himself. “And I’m not hungry. I just want to go home.”

“And I’ll take you there,” Spencer responds, metaphorically digging his feet in. “But you need to eat something first. And drink water.”

You roll your eyes, shakily moving to stand. “I’m not—“

“Sit down.” The hard glint in his eyes, sharp and metallic as a knife, makes it clear that he isn’t asking, and against your stubborn will, you immediately do as he commands. You want to think it’s simply because you’re too tired to fight back rather than too frightened or intimidated, but then, you can’t quite be sure. At least, not until Spencer leans across the table, insistently holding your gaze in something that you think might be a warning, and it’s only now that you realize he’s been holding back his frustration in favor of seeing to your needs, just as his composure begins to slip. “I told you to wait for me at the bar.”

“Yeah, you did,” you respond with a halfhearted roll of your eyes. “You should have known better.”

“No,” Spencer shoots back, “you should have listened to me. Instead you went and broke your word, all because you had something to prove to yourself.”

You can’t help but scoff in disbelief at Spencer’s implication, momentarily startled into genuine speechlessness. Those words hurt — so much so that you really weren’t inclined to admit that they did, lest Spencer think he have more power over you than you were actually willing to give him. So instead, you pushed back the hurt and leaned into the rage. It wasn’t healthy by any means, but at this point, you’d try just about anything to cut through the debilitating numbness medicating your senses at the moment.

“I didn’t break shit!” you hiss, repressing the urge to scream. “And if you really think I did what I did because I was thinking of myself, then you’re just as bad— no, scratch that, you’re… you’re even fucking worse than the rest of them!”

And you expect Spencer to launch some scathingly cruel insult back at you, one that cuts you deeper than you’d ever known words could be capable of, because Spencer’s a genius, after all, and he’s kept up with you enough over the years that he knows how to make an insult hurt if he wants it to. To your admitted surprise, though, he doesn’t open his mouth and hurl knives your way; he doesn’t even look at you like he wants to hurt you, in the way that you’re positive you’re looking at him. Instead, he only blinks down at you, carefully analyzing the expression on your face and the fury in your words before giving you any kind of response. It’s more than you deserve, really.

But Spencer’s soul has always struck you as kind.

“You could have gotten yourself hurt tonight,” he sighs, shaking his head in what you think could be disappointment. “You realize that, don’t you? That what you did was reckless and ridiculously stupid?”

You bark a harsh laugh in response to that, shaking your head as you go on squeezing your hands together. “In case you didn’t notice, I wasn’t the one in danger. Believe me, you didn’t have anything to worry about.”

“You said he’s escalated to killing girls after assaulting them,” Spencer presses, and it’s only as you minutely glance down at the table that you realize he’s curling his hands into fists of his own. “Did you ever stop to think that if he’d managed to overpower you, that could have happened to you too?

“Well it didn’t, did it?” you snap, searching for the power to quell your sudden annoyance. You know it’s misplaced; Spencer’s only doing his best to take care of you, without saying as much in so many words. You should be happier for it; after all, hadn’t you spent years attempting to get Spencer to consider you? To leave lasting impressions on his mind? To sneak your way into his late night, private, personal thoughts? Sure, on the surface it had all been more for show than anything else, but… even if he’d never known the truth, you certainly always did. “I’m fine. Okay? Fine. I’m not going into shock—“

“You’re certainly acting like you are.”

“— I’m not having a panic attack—“

“Again, you could have fooled me.”

“— and I’m not hungry! Okay? I’m not! I just want to go home!”

And it’s lucky that Spencer had the foresight to seat the both of you as far away from the general population of the bar as possible, lest any of the unsuspecting strangers hear the two of you squabbling over something so harrowing, but even if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have cared enough to bother lowering your voice. All of these people, laughing, chatting, obliviously participating in their good times, and all the while an innocent girl had nearly been violated just a few buildings away out on the street. It wouldn’t have been their fault — really, the only person that should have been held accountable was hopefully being dragged to the police station at this very moment — but the fact that life could so casually go on while a child had to suffer the worst night of their life in silence just didn’t sit particularly well in your throat.

You inhale a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut as you brace against the inky misery staining your senses. When you open them again, blinking through the stubborn tears trying to form in the brim of your eyes, you find Spencer carefully considering your face, and all you can do is hope he doesn’t notice the way your lip wobbles.

“I just want to go home,” you say again, hardly managing to get the words out in anything above a whisper. “Please, Spencer, just… I don’t… I can’t be here right now. Please just take me home.”

It’s hard to say what exactly takes the fight out of him. It could be the way you’ve said his name, softly, desperately, pleading in a manor which you’re certain he’s never heard from you before. But then, it could also be the tears welling in your eyes, far more conspicuous a sight than you’d have liked and one Spencer had only ever been confronted with once before. Whatever it is that’s done the trick, it prompts the softening of his gaze, along with the gentle downturn of the curve of his mouth. Just out of the corner of your eye, you think you see his fingers dancing hesitantly over the table top as they steadily migrate closer to yours, and though he doesn’t try to make contact with you this time, he manages to offer you an inexplicable amount of comfort as his fingers dance in a mirror image of the motions of yours.

“Okay,” Spencer concedes, frustration fading out of his expression to allow concern to take the lead. “If that’s what you need, then okay. But— just, put this on, at least.” Before you can interpret his meaning, he’s shrugging out of his jacket and pushing it across the table, and before you can protest, he’s pressing forward stubbornly. “It’s raining outside, you’re shaking, and that dress is gorgeous but it’s not going to stop you from catching hypothermia. Just wear it until we get to the car.”

He’s not leaving you a choice, judging by the glint in his eye that makes it clear he isn’t willing to hear any back talk on the subject. You consider doing so anyway — partly because you’re not sure you’re in the mood to take orders from Spencer, no matter how emotionally distressed you are, and partly because you’re afraid the weight of his jacket on your skin and the scent of his cologne in your nose would be just a bit too intimate for you to handle in this moment — but ultimately, you do as he asks, grabbing at the dark bundle of fabric and wrapping it around yourself like a blanket of protection.

It’s… warm. And it smells good, too. Embarrassing as it is, concentrating on further inhaling the scent of it — of him — is nearly enough to instantly cause your hands to cease their trembling.

“Let’s go,” Spencer murmurs, offering his hand as he stands from the table.

Wordlessly, you take it.

––

Part Two: Something of a Dangerous Game

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfiction #spencer reid #mgg #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #angst #hurt #comfort #semi fluff #unsub reader #tw assault #tw violence #tw language #tw blood mention

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btsqualityy · 4 years

Text

Scripted: Part 19

Namjoon x Reader; Jimin x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, President!Namjoon, Head of Security!Jimin

Warnings: (Reluctant) open relationship, mentions of cheating, emotional/mental manipulation

“Are we sure that none of our men had anything to do with the shooting?” Kim Sang-hoon asked, for what felt like the 100th time in the 30 short minutes that Jimin had been called into a meeting in Namjoon’s office, along with the other members of the security detail.

“Everyone has been vetted, they’re clean,” Jimin assured him.

“How can you be so sure?” Sang-hoon pressed and Jimin wanted to claw his own fucking eyes out in annoyance.

“Dad, stop,” Namjoon spoke up, making everyone look over at him where he sat at the head of the large rectangular table. “Now, while I appreciate your eagerness in making sure that what happened a month ago doesn’t occur again, I trust that Jimin nor anyone else at this table had anything to do with the shooting. Also, the committee that was put together to find the assassins are sure that the three people they have in custody acted alone.”

“You can never be too sure with these types of things, Namjoon-ah,” Sang-hoon replied and Namjoon nodded.

“I know, which is why Jimin has come up with some new and improved security measures for us,” Namjoon said as he raised his hand and motioned to Jimin. “Go ahead.”

“All cars and limousines are being outfitted with new bulletproof glass, bulletproof tires, and new senors underneath. All routes taken by chauffeurs will be changed regularly, so that they don’t become too predictable. The President and First Lady’s public event schedules won’t be released until the morning of the event and at said event, there will be an increased presence of armed guards in addition to our regular security detail,” Jimin explained. “Also, at large scale events where there are a lot of people present, we will have armed snipers stationed on top of every building that’s visible.”

“Armed snipers?” A member of the security detail, Jaebum, spoke up. “Aren’t those usually reserved for occasions of the utmost importance?”

“I think that any occasion to protect our President is pretty important, yes?” Jimin wondered with an arched brow and Jaebum quickly nodded in agreement.

“Well, I for one think that those measures are a great start,” Namjoon said.

“I agree, but we also don’t want people to think that the shooting has made you soft,” Sang-hoon pointed out.

“Right, but there’s nothing wrong with a little extra precaution,” Namjoon chuckled. “I know my wife would be happy for the extra peace of mind that it would afford her.” Jimin had to shut his eyes momentarily to stop himself from rolling them at how casually Namjoon had mentioned you, because Jimin knew that he probably only did that because Jimin was present. When Jimin opened his eyes again, he caught Sang-hoon eyeing him weirdly but he decided to ignore it.

“I am drawing up some more plans as well, which I’ll bring to you once I work out the logistics,” Jimin told Namjoon.

“Great, I’ll look forward to them,” Namjoon nodded curtly. “You’re all dismissed.” Jimin began to gather up his papers and binder while the rest of the security detail hurriedly grabbed their notebooks and filed out of the room in a quick line. Jimin was the last one to pass through the door of Namjoon’s office, making it about halfway down the hall to his office before he heard his name called.

“Park!” Jimin turned around and he’d be lying if he said that he weren’t surprised to see Sang-hoon walking out of Namjoon’s office and over to him.

“Yes Sir?” Jimin replied.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you about something,” Sang-hoon requested and Jimin nodded while shrugging.

“Sure, come into my office,” Jimin said, turning around and leading the way to his office, opening the door and allowing Sang-hoon to step inside first before following behind him and shutting the door.

“What is it that you wanted to speak to me about?” Jimin wondered as he walked around his desk, setting his binder down on top before lowering himself down into his desk chair.

“I wanted to talk to you about your involvement with my daughter-in-law,” Sang-hoon stated. “Whatever is going on between the two of you, it needs to stop today.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about Sir,” Jimin feigned innocence, making Sang-hoon scoff as he stepped closer to the desk and set his hands on top of it, slightly leaning over it towards Jimin.

“Don’t play dumb with me kid,” Sang-hoon warned. “I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive.”

“What, cheating on your wife?” Jimin guessed and he took a little bit of pleasure in the way that Sang-hoon’s eyes slightly widened, not expecting that answer. “If that’s what you’re referring to, then I’d definitely agree.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about kid,” Sang-hoon chuckled darkly. “Men like me, men like my son, we live a certain lifestyle that men like you could only dream about in your wildest fantasies.”

“Oh, you mean the lifestyle that includes manipulating your broken hearted daughter-in-law into taking back your son who doesn’t deserve her?” Jimin laughed. “Yeah, you can keep telling yourself that.”

“I didn’t manipulate her, I just helped her see what was right in front of her, which is what I’m trying to do for you,” Sang-hoon said and Jimin raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ok, I’ll bite,” Jimin shrugged. “What am I not seeing?”

“You’re not seeing the fact that your relationship with Y/N is not going to go anywhere,” Sang-hoon told him. “Namjoon told me about how she made a great, big declaration the night of the shooting that she was going to divorce him but she still hasn’t done it yet. Why do you think that is?”

“Because of the shooting,” Jimin answered without hesitation. “She felt bad about wanting to leave him after all of that so she needs time.”

“Or she came to her senses and realized that there was no future for her with a pawn,” Sang-hoon rebutted.

“A pawn?” Jimin laughed. “Do you think she’s using me or something?”

“Partly,” Sang-hoon responded. “That, and also the fact that she’s too damned nice for her own good and isn’t sure how to let you down easy so she just keeps stringing you along.”

“She is not stringing me along, or using me,” Jimin scoffed. “She’d never do that, not to me or anyone else.”

“Look,Y/N is the type of woman that needs constant and consistent love and attention and while my son is out running this amazing country of ours, he isn’t always able to cater to her needs,” Sang-hoon explained. “Now, where do you think Y/N went looking for that love and attention?”

“I know what you’re hinting at, and it couldn’t be further from the truth,” Jimin told him. “And plus, even if she did come to me looking for love and affection only, I’m pretty sure it’s because President Kim takes after you in regards to how you treat the women in your life.”

“They have an arrangement.”

“That you manipulated her into,” Jimin chuckled. “So we’re back to that point.”

“Look Jimin, you’re a smart kid. Even I know that much,” Sang-hoon huffed. “Assuming that she’s told you everything that has transpired between those two, do you really think any woman who’s been through all of that would even hesitate at leaving if she were serious about doing so?” Jimin stared at Sang-hoon for a few seconds before lowering his gaze down to his desk and thinking about his question, because Sang-hoon did make a valid point.

“She hasn’t left him because she’s still in love with him,” Sang-hoon answered for him once a few seconds had passed without any response from Jimin. “They’ve been in each other’s lives for almost 10 years now and have seen each other through the highest of highs and lowest of lows. Do you really think you can compete with that?”

“But she loves me,” Jimin murmured softly, almost as if he were trying to convince and remind himself at the same time.

“She probably does,” Sang-hoon nodded in agreement. “But just like Namjoon, just like me and hell, even just like you, she has an immense sense of duty inside of her. Part of her duty, as both Namjoon’s wife and First Lady of South Korea, is to be the backbone. Do you think that she’s really going to let everything fall apart at her feet because she fell in love and decided to leave?”

“No,” Jimin replied honestly.

“And you Jimin, you know what your duty is too,” Sang-hoon said and Jimin looked up at him. “So you need to decided what’s more important here: pursuing a love with someone who’s unobtainable, or your sense of duty to do the right thing?”

.............................................

“You’re an absolute idiot, but that’s just my own personal opinion,” Momo said as she moved about Taehyung’s office, shuffling past where you sat on the edge of the desk as you watched her look for some files.

“You think so?” You wondered and Momo nodded her head, opening up a file cabinet and literally almost sticking her entire head inside as she searched for what she was looking for.

“I understand that Namjoon has been trying, but it’s too late for trying,” Momo muttered. “He’s done you so wrong over the past year and he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“But we’ve been in each other’s lives for almost 10 years,” you sighed. “I do love him, even though he’s a dickhead.”

“And you can love him, no one’s saying that that’s wrong,” Momo replied, lifting her head after finding the files that she had been looking for. “But you have Jimin in your life now.”

“So you think that I should go with him?” You questioned, watching as Momo walked back over to the desk and plopped down in the chair that was behind it.

“Y/N, I haven’t seen you smile the way that you do when you see Jimin in over a year, and I missed it,” Momo smiled lightly. “He makes you happy and after everything that you’ve been through, you deserve to be happy and I wish you could see that.”

“I do see it, I just can’t get over everything that I’ll be leaving behind,” you admitted. “Namjoon is familiar, the life that I have as First Lady is familiar. Not to mention the fact that I have an obligation to not only Joon, but the country.”

“You can’t let that completely dictate your life though,” Momo replied. “You need to chose the man who you know for a fact you can be happy with, and you know as well as I do who that man is.”

“I do,” you nodded, taking a deep breath to steady yourself because you now knew exactly what you needed to do. You jumped down off of the desk and stepped over to Momo, wrapping your arms around her shoulders and hugging her tightly. “I love you so much Mo. Thank you for being here for me.”

“I’m your best friend, it’s my job,” she chuckled. “But I love you too. Now go get your man.”

“I’ll see you later,” you promised, standing up straight and quickly walking out of the office, immediately heading down the hall to Jimin’s office. You raised your hand and knocked on the door three times, before you heard Jimin’s voice from inside.

“Come in,” he said and when you opened the door, your jaw instantly dropped at the sight in front of you. All of the pictures of his family that had hung on the walls were now gone, along with all of the little knick knacks that had lined his desk. The only thing that was on his desk now were two large brown boxes, which Jimin was putting things into when you opened the door.

“What’s going on?” You asked as you stepped inside, shutting the office down behind you. Obviously not expecting to see you. Jimin sighed heavily before looking up at you.

“I’m cleaning out my office,” he said and you raised an eyebrow.

“Are you switching offices or something?” You chuckled.

“No, I’m quitting,” Jimin announced and your eyes instantly widened.

“What?”

“I’m quitting,” he repeated. “I handed my resignation in to President Kim about 30 minutes ago.”

“Did Namjoon have something to do with this?” You demanded to know. “I swear, I’m gonna kill him.”

“He had nothing to do with this, this is all me,” Jimin told you, putting the last of his belongings into the last box before using some tape to seal it shut.

“Well, why are you quitting?” You wondered.

“I can’t do this anymore Y/N,” Jimin said. “We were never meant to work, and I know that so I’m cutting my losses now.”

“Jimin, no,” you pleaded, watching in horror as he stacked one box on top of the other before picking them up and walking around the back of the desk. “I love you.”

“Please don’t make this harder than it already is,” he said with teary eyes and you instantly shut your mouth at the sight. “Now, I love you too but we never had a chance in all of this. I never had a chance in all of this and I just need to accept that.”

“But you do!” You shouted.

“Remember how I asked you to be honest with me?” He said and you nodded your head. “Well, you just broke that promise right now by lying to me. We never would’ve made it and you know that as well as I do.”

“Jimin,” you whispered but Jimin just shook his head, and you knew that anything else you could say would only fall on deaf ears.

“Goodbye baby bird,” he murmured, stepping around you and opening the door to his office, stepping out and letting the door close shut behind him. As soon as you heard the door click shut, the dam inside of you burst and the tears that you’d been holding back started to stream down your face, the pain of Jimin walking out on you causing what felt like a deep crack in your heart.

.............................................

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butchlilith · 3 years

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try again (and again and again); a niles/daphne fic

summary: niles has chance after chance to tell daphne how he feels, and he doesn’t keep his mouth shut. at least, not in every sense. three confessions that didn’t happen and probably shouldn’t have.

words: 7.5k

rating + warnings: pg-13. one of these is the obligatory “daphne hates sherry” alternate ending, so some discussion of sex is present.

notes: old draft of some experimentation with voice, c.a. early-mid 2019, cleaned up a little bit for publishing. possibly my first and only str*ight frasier fic? by which i mean "i don't actually know how straight people do anything, but niles is ostensibly a man in this one." also available (with better page breaks) on ao3.

part one. how it ends.

scenario 117. She leaves the next morning more shamefully than any fling’s apartment, leaves after breakfast and a real apology. Dr. Crane’s brother is a bit too eager to act as reference, and Daphne never does find out what he says that gets her placed as fast as she is. It’s not a live-in position, but the pay’s a bit better, and the patient’s wife gives Daphne a discount when she visits her shop, so she doesn’t mind. She finds an apartment on the Hill with a lenient policy on pets and swears off men for just over three years.

scenario 406. Niles doesn’t ask again, even after the divorce. He spends more time with Daphne than he’d ever hoped—he even joins her on a trip to some kind of outlet mall one day—and gets further from telling her with each hour. When he notices what they are now, Dad will give him too much sympathy, and Niles will insist that he prefers it this way, and Frasier will analyze all of it to death. There’s never a proper ending, not one that either of them can point to, but they know that something is over. They only half know what it is.

scenario 421. They’re horrible secret-keepers, and the secrecy was much of the appeal of their arrangement, whatever that arrangement was. Without it, they are Frasier’s pet project and the butt of their friends’—that is, Niles’s friends (few) and Daphne’s friends (many), separate entities, for they have no real friends in common—jokes. They last longer than the heat does, but they break just as suddenly. Eventually, they will confess to feeling the same relief, too.

part two. the “it” in question.

scenario 117. For the longest time, everything is comfortably quiet. Just the drum of the rain, the occasional crack of the fire. Dr. Crane running his fingertips along her arm. Dr. Crane kissing her. Dr. Crane kissing her more gently than she’s ever been kissed. And it’s strange, if not entirely unexpected, but it’s nice, too, in its way. Nice in the way he’s always been nice, sometimes maybe a bit too eager, and other times maybe a bit too reserved, but so impossibly aware that she can’t help but think there’s a kindness to it. But it’s really that—the awareness—before anything else. Daphne’s sure of it: She knows because he’s mirroring her. And he’s able to mirror her because she’s kissing him. And she’s kissing him because she likes it and probably because she’s a bit on the rebound at the moment but mostly that first one because Eric certainly didn’t ever do what he’s doing now, and it’s hard to call something a rebound when it’s that much better than the real thing. Hard to call something a rebound when you can hardly picture yourself wanting to stop getting closer to him. When your hands are doing everything they can to keep that from happening.

And that’s how she realizes: “This isn’t right.”

“Oh,” he says, and Daphne comes close to forgetting her morals because he’s moving his hand back to hers, as if she hadn’t appreciated (more than appreciated) what he’d chosen to do with his just before. “I can— I suppose I’m so used to—” He stops himself. He’s realized it, too. “Oh, that’s what you mean, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Of course,” he says.“It was foolish of me to think…”

Daphne assumes, at least at first, that he plans on finishing this thought, but he stays quiet, well after the time it could take anyone to supply the right word. So, he’s staying quiet, and Daphne has just learned what becomes of the quiet between them. She knows that it can’t happen again. “Me too,” she says.

“You?” he asks. They’re not touching at all anymore. His choice this time, not Daphne’s. She wishes she weren’t keeping track.

“Yes,” she says, and her voice is certain even as he goes on over it, because if she doesn’t admit it, there’s really no way she can go on respecting herself.

“How were you—?”

“Well, thought you might’ve noticed in the moment, but I wasn’t exactly stopping you, was I?”

“Of course not,” he says, and it’s like she’s made it worse. “How could you have? You were in my home, in my— In her— And distraught and shocked and I—”

“You were, too,” she says because he was. Those last two, that is. More than she was, even. “Didn’t stop either of us.”

“But I—”

Daphne isn’t listening. She says, “Look at me.”

He doesn’t, but he tells her, “I have been.” And then, like it’s not the fault Daphne’s third-worst decision about an outfit to date, he adds, “If I hadn’t, we would never have had this problem.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” she says. “I come into your house, and you’re a perfect gentleman to me, and when your wife’s clothes are too small for me, I find this. What else could you have thought?”

“Well, Maris has a very delicate build,” he says. This is a bit on the generous side to all three of them. Daphne can picture them laughing about it, if all of this were different.

“I could have borrowed something of yours if it were such a problem,” she says, already resenting the fact that she’s making excuses like this. “Nothing sexy about that, swimming in a man’s trousers, but I decided to try this on and—”

“No, no, I should have known—” He nearly touches her again when he says this, and Daphne nearly indulges herself in letting him, but he seems to remember what brought them to this point because he draws his hand away at the last possible moment.

“But you couldn’t have,” Daphne says. It’s too quiet. She’s supposed to be angry. At someone. Preferably Dr. Crane. “I didn’t even know until it happened, and it felt… I thought—” She sighs, and the anger’s here at last. “Well, I didn’t think, did I? I just put my—”

Daphne’s put a few too many things a few too many places, but Dr. Crane isn’t listening, so it hardly matters if she says hands or tongue or dignity because he just says, “I’m a psychiatrist,” before she can even decide which the worst of them is.

“Did you know, then?” Daphne asks.

And then he says, “I should have.”

“No, I mean…” It’s embarrassing now, knowing that he’s convinced that she’s the vulnerable one in all this, but she does need that answer. For some reason. A reason that is definitely rational. “Did you know that we…?”

“Oh, I…” He hums like he’s searching for a diplomatic answer to the question. “Only when you… and I…”

“So it was my fault.”

“Not at all. I was—”

“Didn’t think you were the type of man to… Then, suppose I did think, or I wouldn’t’ve…” She tilts her head back, resting it on the seat of the chair behind her, partly from exhaustion and partly from a fear of what would happen if she looked him in the eye.

“And now?” he asks.

“I’m not sure.”

“Of course.” He’s being too kind, maybe because he’s a gentleman or maybe (most likely, Daphne decides on the basis recent events) because he thinks she’s not as smart as he is, but he’s being kind, and Daphne wishes more than anything that he’d stop.

She says, “We really didn’t do anything.” Vaguely, Daphne recognizes his interruption (“Daphne, I—”), then goes on anyway. “You know, a kiss between friends. Bit more involved than I’m used to, but what else? Hands may’ve gotten a bit off track, but whose haven’t?”

“Mine haven’t.”

“Don’t know if you’d still want to say that, Dr. Crane.”

“Of course,” he says again. “They hadn’t. Past tense. And now they have, and my marriage is in shambles, and I certainly can’t tell Frasier or Dad or— I won’t be able to come to his apartment. How do I explain that? You spend one night in my home and suddenly— They’ll know in an instant.”

Daphne can’t help but look up. “This a pattern for you?” she asks, and she’s almost hoping the answer is yes. No, scratch almost. She’s really hoping the answer is yes. Because she can’t be interested in a man with a wandering eye. Not a wandering eye with a passport filled up faster than Mrs. Crane’s, anyhow. And she doesn’t want to be interested in Dr. Crane, no matter how much she liked kissing him.

“No, no, oh, God, no,” he says, because tonight clearly isn’t Daphne’s night. He seems ready to say more, which Daphne hopes will be something unforgivable. But tonight, again, is not Daphne’s night. He looks outside and takes off his jacket. “Would you wear this?” he asks, bringing up a number of unfortunate realities.

“And didn’t I say—”

“No, no, I didn’t—” Dr. Crane seems to regret this choice of words. “It’s cold here,” he revises, “in the house, um, particularly when it rains, and with you in so little...”

“Seems a bit like you’re implying something.”

“Oh. No, I— That was—”

“Just having some fun,” Daphne says, not entirely sure that she is. “Too fresh?”

“No, ah—Hm.” He pauses, and Daphne is forced to spend the intervening seconds guessing whether he’ll actually keep talking this time. He does: “No, I think we’ve passed the point of forwardness.”

“Soon, I mean.”

“Even better. Ten minutes?” A weak laugh. Hideously weak. “Lifetimes away.”

“All right, then,” she says. He hesitates. Daphne nods. And just like this, they are near each other again. He could lay the jacket over her shoulders. Could even hold it out for her, the way he’s done before, so that she could slip her arms inside. He doesn’t. Not this time. Daphne takes it by the collar and puts it on herself. Dr. Crane folds his hands.

It’s quiet, the way it was before, and Daphne refuses to be surprised again. She says, “I don’t have to keep working for your father.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“Well, you may remember where you—”

“I remember. I mean—“ He frowns. “No, that is what I mean. You know, you really should—”

And there’s plenty that Daphne knows she should do, but she doesn’t care to be reminded, so she says, “I suppose you’re right. But that’s just the point, isn’t it? I’m going to be walking around your brother’s place, and you’ll stop by, and we’ll say hello and all that, but then what? I—” She considers redirecting the thought, then decides against it. “I don’t mean to imply anything by this, Dr. Crane, but I was getting to appreciate your company.”

“Were you?”

“Wouldn’t have come here tonight if I wasn’t,” she says. Whispers, really, if she’s honest with herself, but she’d really rather not be because, being honest, she has to admit that it’s hard to take something like that platonically.

“Ah,” he says, and Daphne swears he heard it too, because he’s nearly smiling now. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“I just don’t think it would be wise to hang about where you’re likely to drop in, after something so…” There isn't a word she can use here that doesn't mean admitting that she knew what she was doing. She doesn't use any.

“Yes?” he asks, which feels a bit hypocritical given his history. She hadn’t asked him what he’d meant after all, and not for lack of wanting.

“It doesn’t matter. I just— You know I would never mean any offense, but you can be a bit sensitive sometimes.”

For a moment, he sounds like himself again, which means that he sounds like his brother, and Daphne thinks it's over. “I’d hardly—” he says, but he doesn't continue. “No, no, you’re right, of course. I can. But to think of you... giving up your life over one indiscretion…”

“I’d say it was more than one.”

“Of course, yes, I…” He hums again, and Daphne’s back to waiting for him to say something, even if it’s not honest. Maybe especially. He doesn’t.

She says, “You think I should keep working with your father, then?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“It sounded like you were trying to convince me—”

“Daphne?”

“What?”

“Do you plan on staying?”

“Tonight?” she asks, not sure if this is the question she’d like it to be. “I haven’t got much of a choice, have I?”

“No, no, I mean…”

“Forever,” Daphne suggests.

Dr. Crane presses his lips together. He looks painfully like himself like this. Then, he’s been himself the whole night, and Daphne knows that, she really knows that, but it’s harder like this. No way to maintain the illusion now. “That’s one way of putting it, I suppose.”

“I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t see how I could.”

“It would be difficult, wouldn’t it?”

“It’s not that I… I just think— With you…”

“With me, yes. Could I—?” He adjusts his posture so that it almost looks relaxed, except for the way it happens—almost spasmodically. “There’s been something on my mind recently.”

“Yes?”

“When I— When you came here, tonight, and you…” He frowns, like he doesn’t quite know what to say. “Daphne,” he decides. “You have a lovely name. Do you hear that often? Daphne. A naiad, wasn’t she? Daphne. Then, maybe I’ve been a bit on the Dionysian side tonight.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s the first time either of them have said it since. Daphne doesn’t know what it means. Doesn’t know if he’s apologizing for more than a misunderstanding. “I’m avoiding the point,” he says and runs a hand through his hair. The gesture lends a sort of exhaustion to his appearance, so that his exhale feels heavier than it is.”You really don’t suppose we’ll be able to forget this?” he asks.

“It’d be easier if we didn’t see each other as much, but…”

“You said, before I… Before we… This… You said that you wanted—” And, God, she finally knows where this is going, and she hates every bit of it, because she still feels so terribly close to him. Still wants someone to love her the way she thought he loved Mrs. Crane but can’t possibly love Mrs. Crane because if he did he wouldn’t have done what they’ve done, wouldn’t be saying what he’s saying. And the part of her that’s still crashing from the breakup believes him. Believes that it could be him. Wants it to be, even.

But Daphne isn’t stupid and certainly not as stupid as he must think she is, so she says, “You shouldn’t.”

“I know that, but I—” and she can feel him saying it now, and she can feel herself believing him even though she shouldn’t. And it’s not just the part of her that’s been broken up with, or the part of her that hasn’t had decent sex in six months, or the part of her that’s stuck in some childish romantic daydream. It’s just Daphne. Wanting him to tell her what he can’t possibly mean. He stops himself. He looks at her for too long, with the eyes she never noticed until tonight. He sighs. “You know,” he says, and Daphne knows the moment has passed, “you’re right. I shouldn’t. It’s late, and I’ve embarrassed myself quite enough, so… Our rooms aren’t the most comfortably furnished, I’m afraid, and, under present circumstance, I can hardly imagine… Where would you like to sleep?”

Daphne doesn’t let herself answer foolishly.

scenario 406. Here is everything that goes better than Niles predicted: Daphne is not horrified. She does not immediately flee the scene, does not reach for the phone to book the next flight back to Manchester, does not so much as flinch when he asks her. She just looks at him with the eyes about which Niles has sworn to himself he will no longer wax poetic, presses together the lips about which Niles has sworn to himself he will no longer fantasize, and nods. It could almost pass for assent.

And then she says, “You’re married.”

And this is technically true, but he says, “Separated,” because there isn’t much else he can say with the potential to right this minor detail.

“Still married,” she says, and, really, she’s right, but, really, there is very little Niles can do about this at the moment, and he doubts Daphne will still be available the next.

So he says,“I suppose I am, aren’t I?” and waits for what is probably not entirely enough time before continuing. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“You are.” She exhales in a way that almost sounds like a laugh.

“I know. I meant the other question.”

“I thought I did,” she says. There’s no way for Niles to convince himself that she’s laughing this time.

But he’s committed to his optimistic streak, even as he watches her settle onto the arm of the couch, back toward him, so he says, “Oh?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. Her voice is clear even though he can’t see her face. Insistent. “You’re married.”

“Separated,” he corrects.

“And married.”

“And married, yes But, if, hypothetically, I were no longer married—“

Daphne turns back to face him. “You’re going to divorce your wife?”

“It’s a possibility. That’s why we’re speaking hypothetically.”

“Right,” she says. She’s facing the kitchen again, meaning Dad’s chair is the logical place to sit if he hopes to conduct anything resembling a normal human conversation. He sits instead on the cushion nearest her, functionally eliminating the possibility, and Daphne says, “Well, you’d be divorced.”

“Yes, that’s typically how it works.”

“You think I’d date a man right after his divorce?”

“Well, perhaps if he—”

“He needs time,” she says, and this really is better than Niles predicted—not because it’s not a no, and not because it suggests that there is maybe, someday the possibility of a yes, but because she means that she loves him.

But Niles cannot say, “I love you, too,” because she hasn’t actually said that she loves him, and, even if she had, that may be moving at something of a brisk pace given circumstance. So he says, “Yes, I suppose he does,” because this is the nearest he can get. Daphne, evidently, appreciates the gesture, because she shifts properly this time, a full ninety degrees, so that neither of them has to contort to see the other.

“So,” Niles says, “and this is still hypothetical, of course—if we suppose that I—that he—were divorced, and he’d been divorced for some time, and he’s completely over Maris—his wife, I mean… Would you…?”

Daphne grins and it is, for a moment, as if nothing has changed between them. As if they’re still dancing, or talking about her brothers, or watching the last half The Shop Around the Corner. “You’re asking if I’d ever date a man who’s been married before?”

“Yes.”

“Any man?” she asks. In another, better world, the first half of their conversation has not happened at all, and Daphne is asking this hopefully, longing for Niles to at last say how he feels. But in this world, which naturally is worse, Niles has already said it, and Daphne has already declined. No, not declined. Something softer, enough to make Niles go on.

“Well,” he says, “hypothetically, say it were me.”

Daphne smiles again. “In this hypothetical,” she says, “did this man—did you—did you ask me, while you were married? Say, three hours after I’ve been dumped?”

“Yes,” Niles says, finally as ashamed as expected to be the moment he spoke. “He’s exactly the same person. Purely for the purposes of the hypothetical, of course.”

“Right.” There are roughly forty-three ways the old Niles could describe Daphne’s eyes in this moment before devolving to the shameful-if-accurate “sparkle” and its kind, but he remains set on avoiding this pattern. In any case, it doesn’t keep him from noticing.

“You can say no,” he says, pretending it does.

“I know.”

“It won’t be the first time I’ve been rejected,” he adds.

“I know.”

“I suppose I was asking for that, wasn’t I?”

“A bit,” Daphne says. Then, just as quickly, “You’re in my spot, you know.”

“Your…?”

“I always sit where you’re at now,” she says. “Then you’re the one over. Every time you’re here. Even half an hour ago. Right where you are.”

“You sat down first.”

“Well, I thought you’d be heading out soon. Getting late and all. Wasn’t going to settle back in just for you to leave, was I?”

“Oh, um…” Niles feels suddenly aware of how this all seems, suddenly aware of how out of practice he is. He’s in her home, after all. Looking at it most simply, he has her trapped here. The realization is less than romantic. “Should I?” he asks.

“Depends on whether you’ll be staying where you’re at,” she says, apparently unaware of the gravity of the question.

“You’re kidding.”

Daphne takes on a mock-serious expression. When she speaks, there seems to be a trace of Niles’s own voice in it: “You’re not telling me you’re unschooled in the high-stakes art of couch politics.”

“Couch politics?”

“Come on. You have a brother. You’re telling me you spent all those years in the same house and you didn’t have a spot on the couch?”

Niles considers this. He didn’t. “I had a nook,” he offers.

“A nook?”

“A nook,” he says. “I was never much of a couch child.”

“Oh. Suppose that adds up, really.” She waits—for what Niles is unclear—then seems to hit upon something. “Well, you’ve got a side of the bed, at least.”

“Have I?”

“Had one, then,” Daphne corrects—an insufficient amendment given the nature of Niles’s marriage. “Scoot.”

Niles complies, shifting so that he sits exactly at the center of the cushion. Daphne sits beside him, closer to him than strictly necessary. Niles attempts to dismiss this fact. He says, “We slept apart.”

“Come on,” she says. Her right shoulder bumps up against his left. The action itself is entirely dismissible. Becoming swept up in it is entirely inevitable. “I’m not married, but I’ve got a side.”

“Have you ever considered that you’re simply a particularly territorial person?” he asks.

Daphne laughs. “Coming from the man who’s got a whole separate bedroom from his wife,” she says, and Niles resolves to take the opportunity he’s been given to redirect. “That’s rich.”

“So, ah, if I didn’t have a wife,” he says, “and I hadn’t for some time, and I happened to ask you on a date…”

“Oh.” Her voice sounds as if she has genuinely forgotten. Niles isn’t sure what to make of this, whether there is perhaps some distant possibility of normalcy between them after all. “Right.”

“You could say no,” Niles says, casually if not for the slowness of it, as if it’s the first time he’s saying it.

“Right.”

“So,” he says, decidedly less casually.

“I could say no.”

It isn’t a question, but Niles answers it like one: “Easily.”

“Long time to wait for a rejection, though, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure he’s waited longer.” And then, because the possibility is so strangely beguiling, to think that this could be over—to think that perhaps everything could return to the way it was—he says, “But it would be a no?”

“It could be,” she says, which is consuming in another way.

“But not necessarily?”

Niles watches Daphne study him, withdraws into that world of imagining himself in her place. By the time she answers, she’s directed her gaze toward the television, the pair of them reflected in its black screen, where Margaret Sullavan and James Stewart had stood just before them. “I’d have to think.”

Niles says, “Of course.”

“I’ve known him for years,” she says. Her eyes are still on the television, unfocused now. “What would it be by then? Five?”

“Something like that, yes.”

Daphne hums. The sound of it is excruciatingly mellifluous. “You know,” she says, and this is all it takes to know that what follows will be worse still, “hypothetically, don’t think it’d be a bad idea for him to get divorced.”

“Oh?”

“You know,” she says again, and this time he knows nothing at all. “Deserves someone who cares about him.”

“Ah. And that’s why you wouldn’t…?”

“I might,” she says.

“Of course,” he says.

“If it felt right.”

“That is everything, isn’t it? Feeling right,” he says and, for the first time in recent memory, keeps himself from revising the thought. “The strangest thing. For years, I thought that meant feeling comfortable.”

Daphne finally looks back to him. “You’re still comfortable with her?”

“I would be,” he says, “if this all ended, and we were still married.”

“But you don’t want that.” Her tone is indecipherable, or else Niles is resisting his need to decipher it. He resists his need to decipher the disjunctive.

“Maris doesn’t.”

“Then you do,” she says.

“Maris doesn’t.”

“Well, then it’s like I said,” Daphne tells him. “You deserve someone who cares about you.”

“I suppose I should say, ‘Maris doesn’t,’” he says.

Daphne shrugs. “Be a nice symmetry.”

“It would. I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Dr. Crane”—this is a blow all its own, but Niles supposes he can hardly expect better—“I don’t mean to be rude, but, when you say all this, you have to understand why I said what I did.”

“Of course,” he says, and he does, though he’d easily prefer the alternative. “It would be foolish of us, wouldn’t it?”

“A bit. Doesn’t mean you can’t date other women, though.” And then, with a wink, “Or something other than date, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Oh, well, I suppose so,” he says before realizing that this, perhaps, is not the best of times to ignore a gesture’s possible implications. “Of course, not— That wasn’t why I was asking—“

“You asked me on a date because you didn’t want to have sex with me?” This is fair if unanticipated, and Niles wonders just how visibly warm he’s become. Too visibly, surely.

“Ah, I, well, not— I don’t mean to—“

“Oh, I understand,” Daphne says. “Just having fun. And, speaking of, there’s this bar Roz told me about, just off Pike. She said she’d go with me, but…”

“I wouldn’t want you to cancel your plans.”

Daphne waves away the thought. “Oh, no.” She takes up an exaggerated new expression. ”’Strangest thing,’” she says, now miming the presence of a phone in her hand, as if the point couldn’t have been made without it, “‘but before I even got the chance, someone’s already gone and asked me on a date. Oh, yes, he’s gorgeous.’” (Niles makes the gallant effort to take this for the joke that it is.) “‘Anyway, I told him I was free tomorrow night…’”

scenario 421. Like this, Niles finally has sex with Daphne. And it isn’t particularly good. It isn’t bad, because it couldn’t be bad, but it isn’t good because... Well, it’s Daphne, of course, but it’s also Daphne, and the Daphne that occupies Niles’s fantasies is not quite the Daphne that he knows, and he knew this already, because he willed it to be so, but this means that, for all the years of dreaming of a woman who was nearly her, Niles is entirely unprepared for the real thing.

Of course, the Daphne-who-was-not-Daphne never was quite the same even as herself. One evening, nervous and softer than anything. The next, certain and stopping for nothing. Most recently, for the third time in eight months, speaking to him. Telling him everything he was too afraid to tell her. Everything. So that when they finally did have sex (because that was, admittedly, always the reason for this not-quite-Daphne’s appearance), it was nearly an afterthought. A pleasant afterthought—an exceedingly pleasant afterthought—but an afterthought nonetheless.

Even in all of this, it was never quite so awkward. They were never unused to each other in the fantasies, never hesitated after each first touch (before, perhaps, but never after), never seemed to be three seconds out of sync. And Daphne never kissed him like the real Daphne does. It isn’t bad, necessarily, not first-kiss bad, or even two-too-many-drinks bad (though it is nearly as messy), or, really, bad at all, except that it is, just a bit, if Niles is completely honest with himself. But mostly, and this is really about ninety-five percent of it, it’s surprising. New.

“Daphne?” he asks, and saying her name is enough to convince him that the sex was not bad or mediocre or even merely good. It was, Niles is now certain, easily the best sex two people have ever had. Not two. Any number. The best sex ever had, period.

But Daphne isn’t looking at him. She isn’t touching him. (How strange for that to be noteworthy!) She seems entirely set on forgetting everything they’ve done—already back in that borrowed dressing gown, half-sitting in his bed since returning to it, head tilted toward the ceiling. She replies anyhow: “Yes?”

“How are you?” This is not necessarily the question Niles had intended to ask, is not necessarily suave or charming—is not necessarily much of anything but strangely melodic, which is not quite the impression Niles had had in mind. But he says it, in the spirit of the day, because he can’t help but to say it with Daphne there, in his bed, looking as she does. More directly, which is to say more honestly, he says it on an impulse.

“All right,” she says. Polite. Noncommittal. “And you?”

“Similarly,” he says. “But I’d really—“

“We’ve really made a choice with this one, haven’t we?” She laughs at this, just barely, and he does, too, allowing them both the diversion.

“Yes, it seems we have.”

“Have to admit I never really thought…” Daphne sighs, and this calls to mind several events Niles expects to sustain him for at least the next decade. “You know. Us.”

“And now that we have…”

“Bit funny, isn’t it?” she says.

Niles considers this. Of all the words he has prepared for this occasion, funny was never among them. Still, it’s preferable to many of the alternatives, particularly given how readily mistake springs to mind. “Yes.”

“Never thought you’d be—” Daphne wrinkles her nose, conveying an emotion Niles can’t quite interpret. “Well, I suppose that means I must’ve thought about how you’d actually be, but… What about you?”

“You’re asking me if I ever thought about—?”

At this, Daphne relaxes slightly and turns to her side, resting her head in her right hand. Relief at her apparent lack of repulsion aside, Niles wishes Daphne would have waited, this being quite easily the moment at which he would least like to face her. Nearly smiling now, she says, “Sex. With me.”

“I don’t—”

“Oh, come on,” she says, still painfully buoyant. (Niles thinks she will touch him again, but her arm stops short of his.) “No reason to be embarrassed now, if you have.”

“Isn’t there?” he asks, for he has come up with fifteen in the time since her asking.

“So you have?”

“Well,” Niles starts, but it’s obviously futile. “Oh, I suppose you’re right. Yes. I have.”

“You always have been a flatterer,” she says. “So, did I measure up?”

And he says, “Oh.”

Daphne echoes him, dropping her voice: “‘Oh.’” She laughs. “Suppose I spoke a bit soon there.”

The answer, most honestly, the thrill of saying her name aside, is no because four years of trying to substitute fantasies of someone for an actual sex life makes for somewhat unrealistic expectations. The answer, somewhat honestly, is that, yes, in terms of his actual sex life with actual women who existed for longer than thirty minutes at a time, Daphne was... Daphne was... “Oh, well, I—”

“It’s all right if I didn’t,” she says before he has the chance to further embarrass them both. “I mean, wouldn’t be the kindest thing for you to say to me after… Do you have any more of that pineapple?”

“Oh, um, let me— Did we finish it?”

“I’m not sure. Got a bit swept up in the moment, I suppose.”

“Right,” he says, but any grasp he had once had on his composure has vanished. “I’ll— Actually, I don’t know that it would still be particularly— You know, sitting out. I could make you something?”

Daphne laughs until it fades into a sigh. “With all due respect,” she says, “I’ve seen the kind of dinner you serve your dates.”

Because now seems an inappropriate time to confess that, in fact, he had never had any intention of inviting anyone else for dinner that night, Niles says nothing, and Daphne accepts the invitation to continue.

“It’s for the best, really. Can’t imagine sitting in this heat with an oven going as well.”

“It doesn’t have to be—“

Daphne stands. “I’m going to take a look,” she says.

“For what?”

“See whether we’ve left any pineapple. Is it all right if I bring it back here?”

Since his separation, Niles has adopted a stricter policy with regard to eating in the bedroom, figuring that, when living alone, such an allowance could only lead to his regression into the worst sort of bachelor. Also, he no longer pays someone to wash his sheets. Both of these points, however, feel increasingly trivial in the context of recent events. “Certainly.”

And with this, Daphne is past the doorway, and Niles is alone, and he supposes he’ll have to get used to that feeling again, once the awkwardness of their own situation outweighs the abrasiveness of the other. And just as quickly, she’s back, and Niles makes an effort to indulge in this more pleasant reality while it lasts.

“Anyway,” she says, settling into the bed with the platter a bit more precariously than Niles had hoped, “back to what I was saying. I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t…”

“Oh.” This is an unfortunate redevelopment, as Niles had hoped that her own diversion had been sufficient in turning the topic of conversation elsewhere. “Are you still—?” he asks.

“Well, when you’re working that hard to keep from answering, can’t help wondering—“

Niles attempts a redirection of his own. “Drawing comparisons is…”

Daphne takes a bite of pineapple, and the silence between this moment and her reply does nothing to conceal the flaccidity of this attempt. “You did, anyway. More than.”

“Oh,” Niles says, deciding to overlook the less-than-complimentary implications of this formulation. This afternoon’s developments aside, he is not a man terribly accustomed to such good fortune; no other reactions are in his repertoire.

“It is all right if I say that, isn’t it?”

“Of course. I— Does that mean you—?” he asks. He means, Does that mean you intend to do this again? but saying it aloud seems to be crossing one too many a boundary, so he refrains.

“Do you?” she asks, presumably meaning the same.

“Well, we’d have to be more—” Careful, he thinks, but they were careful. Particularly him. Particularly in a way he would really rather he hadn’t been. “Today, we were—” Reckless, he thinks, but they weren’t reckless. They progressed in the smallest of steps, and they both knew it, well before it happened, and the real risk of recklessness is whatever he’s about to say knowing that he wants it to happen again. “We shouldn’t—” He reaches for a strawberry.

“But you’d like to,” Daphne says.

Thinking this is dangerous and saying it worse, but Niles does think it. He does want it, and more desperately than before, but more desperately still, he does not want to lose whatever they had that made her want to stay with him. “Only if you would.”

“You can say you’d like to without qualifying it, you know. If you would, that is.”

“I wouldn’t want to overstep,” Niles says, as if he could have reached this point by any other stride. (The strawberry in his hand is still uneaten. There are several versions of Niles that would choose to weave this into a less-than-artful metaphor.)

“All right,” Daphne says. Niles, at this moment, finally takes a bite from the strawberry, and he feels her eyes on her as he does. He hears the way her voice drops when she says, “I think I would.”

“You would?”

She laughs. “What, just being polite?”

“God, no.” This is too much. Niles knows it before he’s finished saying it, but the afternoon has already rewarded his imprudence; he has a streak going. “I— No. I— So… Hm. What would you like? From… this, I mean.”

“Oh, I’m an adult, I can handle—“

“I wouldn’t ask you to handle—”

“All right,” Daphne says. “Usually go on a few dates before sleeping with someone, but I suppose we’re past that, so the next best—“

Niles has imagined a few hundred too many ways of formulating the question to be beaten to asking it. He says, “Would you like to go on a date?”

“I wasn’t asking for that.“

“What were you asking?”

“I wasn’t asking anything.”

“What would you like?”

“Well, I’ve already told you, haven’t I?”

“Would you remind me?”

“I’d like you to stop asking me what I’d like,” she says, and Niles remembers suddenly that it was an argument that brought her here. “I’d like you to tell me what you’d like.”

“Well, if it isn’t overstepping…”

Daphne sounds almost annoyed, replying too soon and too briefly: “It isn’t.”

“I’m afraid my motivations today haven’t been entirely pure.”

“I noticed that when—”

“No, no, after that. I— This isn’t entirely how I planned to tell you…”

Daphne’s face softens. She speaks more slowly than she has in months: “You’ve been wanting to tell me something?”

“Yes. For some time. I just can’t seem to say it.”

“Yes?”

“You’ve been a wonderful friend to me lately.”

“If I was really that bad, you could just tell me.”

“No,” Niles says, the inappropriateness of his long-practiced admission only now occurring to him. “No. It’s— It isn’t that. I couldn’t say it, before, because you had been such a good friend, but we…”

“You can say that we’ve ruined it,” she says.

“We’ve taken a risk.”

“We don’t have to keep doing this.”

“I— Of course not, no. I was— I’d like to go on a date. With you.”

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“I’m not—“

“You know, you’ve always been such a gentleman to me.” Daphne licks the pineapple juice from her fingers, and Niles can imagine nothing further from the truth. Then, his imagination is otherwise occupied. “Even today. Especially, really. But it’s not the same, something like this. Don’t have to ask me just because we’ve had sex.”

“I’m not.”

“Dr. Crane—“

“Please, call me—“

Daphne doesn’t acknowledge his interruption. “I’ve seen the kind of women you date.”

“Who are you—?” Niles tries without success to work through the steps that led her here. “There’s Maris, Adelle…”

“That’s just what I mean, though.” She offers a wry smile and another strawberry. Niles accepts. “No one like me there, is there?”

“That’s certainly true.”

“So, you’re expecting me to believe that, after all that, you’re going to start dating me?”

“Not dating, necessarily,” Niles says, reasoning that it would be in bad taste to detail just why such a departure might be welcome. “We could start with one. You— I seem to remember you having a fondness for first dates.”

“I do,” she says. “You don’t.”

“I don’t. I was hoping that this one might be different.”

“And if it is?”

“A second, maybe.” With an intention that embarrasses him the moment he does it, Niles takes another strawberry as he continues. “A third. Fourth. Fifth…”

“Sounds like we’d be dating.”

“We could,” he says. “Eventually.”

“And until then, what?”

Cautiously (and probably too optimistically), Niles says, “We could keep…”

“We could.”

“Is that—?”

“Yes.”

“Are you—?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” At Daphne’s grin, Niles rushes to amend this. “I don’t usually say— Not that I’m frequently— Being recently separated— But you… I— I’m sorry.”

“I like that,” Daphne says. “’Thank you.’ It’s sweet.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you.”

“Second one’s not quite the same.”

“Ah. I don’t suppose it ever is.”

“Could always get it out of the way now.”

“Oh.” Niles knows he must say more than this, knows that Daphne is already rounding the corners of her mouth to imitate him if he doesn’t. He says the only thing he can both think and bear to say: “You called me Dr. Crane earlier.”

“I’m not doing that while we’re having sex,” Daphne says. “Last time I— Oh, well, never mind that, but—”

“I don’t want you to do that.”

“Too ethical for a bit of roleplay?” This feels like something of a turn, but Niles is still too dazed by Daphne’s earlier suggestion to voice it.

“As it happens,” Niles says instead, then considers this, too. Realistically, he concludes, this is a far more generous interpretation of the request than he deserves and certainly less pathetic than the reality. “Something like that, yes.”

“Well, don’t worry. It’s nothing I’m after.” When Daphne speaks again, her voice has lost its firmness: “Why’d you bring it up, anyway?”

“I— We’re— This isn’t just sex?”

“I think ‘just’ is a bit unfair.”

“No, I mean… No, it doesn’t… Would you call me Niles?”

“I don’t think I can.”

“I’m sorry?” Niles says.

“I mean, when we’re alone, that’s one thing, but if I start doing it then, I’m liable to start slipping it in other places, and, before you know it, it’ll be in front of your father. And how’d I explain that? I know we’ve been a bit friendlier as of late—”

“I think we may have passed by friendly sometime this afternoon.”

“Well, that’s just my point, isn’t it?” she says. “I spend a few evenings alone with you in four years, and all of a sudden I’m calling you by your first name.”

“And you don’t want to tell them?” Niles asks.

“Tell my boss I’ve been sleeping with his brother?”

“Ah,” Niles says, the general configuration of their relationship at last settling in. “I suppose not. Then, I believe your use of the present perfect continuous would imply something of a more extended arrangement, at which point it may be appropriate to use the word ‘dating.’”

“You know, I really don’t know that I’m sure about that.”

“Oh. Of course.” (And it really is what he had expected all along.) “I certainly wouldn’t want to rush— Of course, to some extent we already have, but—”

“It’s just—“ Daphne pauses. Niles watches the movement of her eyes until they meet his. She continues: “It all seems a bit strange, doesn’t it? The two of us. Dating, I mean. Not that I’d planned on this happening either, but I can’t even imagine where we’d go.”

“Where would you like to go?”

part three. how it starts.

scenario 117. Daphne puts on Mrs. Crane’s negligee because it fits and she’s never touched anything so soft and possibly also because she really needs the reminder that she’s worth something. Beside Dr. Crane, she feels it. Every time he speaks, she feels it more and she likes him more and she comes closer and closer to doing something reckless. He does it first.

scenario 406. It’s just them in the living room again, in spite of Frasier’s best efforts. Daphne had surprised them all, earlier in the evening, and asked if, so long as it’s not too much trouble, Niles might want to stay and chat a bit, and Niles had said no, of course not, it couldn’t possibly be any trouble at all. By the time Niles gets the courage, they are dancing again, the way they haven’t since last winter, not-quite-there but not-quite-drunk on Frasier’s most mediocre wine. Before he speaks, before Daphne can feel his hands shaking, Niles pulls them apart.

scenario 421. The heat wraps them up, and Niles is trying to remember that old letter about summer and lethargy and something else, trying to forget each look that Daphne gives him, but he can’t do either. It’s too much, with the two of them so close, her smelling of his soap, wearing his dressing gown. It’s inevitable. She’s the one who acts first, in the end, the one who finally says it. She says it like it’s something rational, like she’s the one who has to worry about being rejected: “You know, Dr. Crane, if we’re both feeling the same way, and there really is just the one solution…” He finishes the sentence for her.

#frasier #frasier fic #niles crane #daphne moon #niles x daphne #fic*#by ''ostensibly a man'' what i mean is i wrote a modified canon niles #but personally i have been known to promote a good he/him lesbian niles head canonin my day so.....#no one could stop you from reading this that way (although it may have looked a bit different had that been my intention)#ANYWAY. please enjoy this dinosaur

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oveliagirlhaditright · 3 years

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What are your favorite KH headcanons? Just in general, nothing specific :)

It’s funny... I can think of headcanons when I’m writing or whatever--or just at the spur of the moment--but when asked for them, they all disappear from my mind. Uhh... let’s see what I can come up with.

Because Kairi has had a different hairstyle that every year that we see her, I headcanon that she changes her hair every year.

I also headcanon her birthday is September 17th (the day KH1 was released in the U.S. This is also SoKai Day), since Sora’s birthday is the day of the Japanese release and because it makes Kairi a Virgo. She somewhat reminds me of a Virgo. And apparently an Virgos and Aries (which Sora is) can be good together, so...

I imagine that Riku is rich, just because he has a balcony in the KH manga. So is Kairi, for being the adopted daughter of the mayor in my mind (I get into that just below). Sora, however, is probably middle class. For this reason, hangouts with the three usually happen at Kairi or Riku’s house. But sometimes Sora’s still... And these three totally snuck into each other’s houses after dark--through bedroom windows--all the time, and no one can tell me any differently.

And, like most of the fandom does, I headcanon that Destiny Islands’ mayor is Kairi’s adopted father... even though that’s never exactly said. It’s said that the girl who arrived during the meteor shower was at the mayor’s house, but that could have just been for the time and she eventually got relocated somewhere else. But nah. I also headcanon that the mayor adopted her.

I like my headcanon of Xion liking doilies for some reason.

And my one about Roxas being able to cook, too.

For some reason, I adore the idea that Riku can’t cook to save his life.

I also don’t think that Sora is dumb, and I’ll fight people on this. And at this point, I’m kind of stealing another’s headcanon... but I like the idea that Donald and Goofy teach Sora school things he’s missing on their travels together.

I can also get into the headcanon that Sora’s dad passed when he was young (sadly). Since we hear him mentioned in BbS, but don’t hear him calling Sora to dinner alongside Sora’s mother in KH1 or anything like that.

I definitely headcanon that there are a few islands on Destiny Islands--since it’s Destiny Islands plural--but that they’re probably small, so that the kids still feel “trapped there”.

I imagine that Sora and Riku’s parents put up some of the Play Island stuff absent in Dark Road.

Until proven otherwise, because of the character files, I’m headcanoning that Roxas, Lea, Xion, Isa, and Naminé are all living together now (with Lea and Isa acting as their parents). Probably in the Old Mansion that they fixed up. But on the flip-side of that, I think that Sora and Kairi’s parents accepted their kids’ Nobodies and Replicas as their own, and they sometimes stay there.

I also want to pretend that Isa made a bigger effort to make things up to Roxas and Xion.

I actually don’t think Naminé would jump on the drawing train as most fans seem to think she would. Rather... since drawing is actually tied to traumatic memories for her, I think she’d want to get as far away from it as she could at first. And it would take her friends showing her that she could make good memories with it too, that would finally make her an artist.

Terra and Aqua came from other worlds than the Land of Departure (and how I wish we’d get information on that!). Right now--even though it’ll never happen in a million years, since this series isn’t even Disney--I’m writing that Aqua is originally from “Antar” from the Roswell series, but that’s more fanfiction territory. More likely than not, I want to believe that Terra and Aqua are from worlds that fit their names.

Strelitzia is bisexual. I don’t care that Player canonically is a guy at this point, thus probably making her het. Shh.

Speaking of bisexuality... I think that Sora is. I could maybe even headcanon Riku as that now.

Naminé would totally wear baby blue, if Nomura ever lets her get another outfit.

Xion probably eventually picks up some artsy thing that she can do too, to better fit in with Kairi, Naminé, and Aqua. In the novels, she wanted to make a lucky charm but didn’t know how to. So I can see it.

I don’t think this is a headcanon, so much as it is canon that we haven’t seen yet (since Nomura has slightly talked about this in interviews, even if he’s never going to do anything with it now). Rinoa exists in the KH universe. And it’s because something happened to her during the fall of Radiant Garden--that Leon really is beating himself up about--that he changed his name. And it’ll only seeing her alive and well again, that will get him to change his name back. And he eventually will (or maybe even has in my headcanon). And, yes: the letter he got in the KHII credits was totally from her, telling him that she was alright. Rinoa is also why he has wings on the back of his jacket.

Yuna, Rikku, and Paine aren’t actually tiny fairies, but Maleficent turned them into that... And this is so I can ship KH Tidus and Yuna, yeah. But I swear if you listen to one of Rikku’s lines, it sounds like she might be implying this.

While I think originally, it was Aerith that Cloud was trying to save in KH1 (...for some reason. Since she’s fine in the KH verse), fans have now convinced me that it was actually Zack, so I hope we eventually get the FFVII characters in KH’s story eventually resolved.

Some people argue that all of Traverse Town with the TWEWY characters was a dream--or maybe it’s that they argue Joshua saving his friends through Sora and Riku’s help was the dream--but in my book, it totally happened.

Naminé is an honorary member of the Destiny Trio and Sea Salt Trio.

Kairi and Naminé see each other as sisters, and Sora, Roxas, and Ventus (and Vanitas, if he ever comes back and is redeemed) see each other as brothers. But Sora and Roxas miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight slightly see themselves as more closely linked brothers, and same thing with Ventus and Vanitas.

I also see Xion as a third sister for Kairi and Naminé. Most of the fandom disagrees with this. And I understand why. Most of the fandom sees her as Sora’s sister (and maybe even then sistered to the other boys. And sometimes I now do this--sort of because of peer pressure--but I’ll also have her be a shared sister between the boys and Kairi and Naminé, even though Sora and Kairi themselves aren’t “related”. But I hate that when I do this, it ruins my RokuShi dreams. So it’s probably part of the reason that I usually don’t). But I still see Xion as closer to Kairi than Sora. I know she was supposed to be a Sora clone (but it didn’t really work and she was a failed clone of him), but she mostly defined by his memories of Kairi. And that’s who she chooses to be and how she sees herself. But people then argue that it’s Sora’s memories of Kairi, though, not Kairi herself. And I get that.... But I still think she’s closer to Kairi. Why? Because Sora was actively trying to make her Kairi. And I’m sure some of himself slipped into there, as parts of a writer--so to speak--shows up in all their work, whether they intended it or not. But for example... let’s say that Sora hates chocolate and Kairi loves it. Since he was trying to make Xion like Kairi, he would therefore have her like chocolate, even though he hated it. So that’s one more point for Xion moreso being like Kairi in my book. I also... when I first played Days, she reminded me a lot of Kairi, partly because of some of her snarky lines. It’s only recently that I’ve looked at Days and seen some Sora in her--and realized that also could have partly come from him--but I still stand by what I said.

And while we’re on the subject... after everyone got their own hearts and bodies at the end of KHIII, I don’t think pairings like RokuShi or RokuNami, or whatever else would be insert of self-cest at all. Really, I don’t ever think it was. Because KH rules state that it’s your heart and how you see yourself that governs everything around you... but especially not after KHIII resolved this. So it kind of ticks me off when people still bring up this argument.

Because this plot hole bothers me... Kairi totally remembered Merlin when she trained with him in KHIII.

Most the rest of these will probably be about Kairi. Since you all know she’s my girl, and I think about her a lot.

I pretend that Kairi did somewhat have an edgy stage, and still somewhat is. Maybe because I somehow combine that with tomboy in my head. IDK. Speaking of--though not that this is really “edgy”--I’ve written that Kairi likes Queen at least twice. Just pretend that Destiny Islands has Queen. Haha.

I also believe that even after Kairi became more girly in KHII, she still has some tomboy to her: like how even though she wears a dress in KHII, she still has sneakers on, and how her school bag isn’t decorated at all when Selphie’s is. She’s also a fighter, of course (not that that necessarily makes a girl a tomboy -looks at Buffy-). I imagine out of the three, Naminé is the girliest, Kairi is a mix of tomboy and girly-girl, and Xion is a tomboy.

I think Kairi, Naminé, and Xion would all have great relationships with each other. Naminé and Xion, because they both know what it’s like to be “Nobodies” , told they shouldn’t exist, and forgotten (Kairi knows this, too), and have suffered (though Kairi has too, of course). They’re also both slightly shier. Kairi and Xion because they both can be snarky (though Xion not as much), are more outgoing and both fight, and are maybe pretty evenly matched right now (they’d probably spar a lot). And Kairi and Naminé, because they’re like the extroverted and introverted version of each other. And I imagine Kairi could convince Kairi to try things more, while Naminé would get her to chill the F out about things.

Kairi and Xion are probably both protective of Naminé, since she’s been so abused and they can fight and she can’t.

Sora, Roxas, and Ventus might be protective of Xion. But for me, Roxas is because of shipping reasons.

Back to the girly-girl Kairi thing... While pink probably is for sure her favorite color now, she still likes purple and other colors. And will use them.

I also just... don’t see her wearing makeup. I know other fans do, and that’s fine. But I don’t. Mainly because it doesn't look like she ever is in the game. I think that’s part of her tomboy coming through still. She cares about her hair, her clothes, perfume and whatever else, but she doesn’t care about makeup.

I used to headcanon that Aqua and Xion would become best friends--and they still could--but Melody of Memory maybe hinted at something else.

...I think this is everything right now.

Edit: And pretty much every headcanon that bluerosesburnblue comes up with for the KHUX world is right up my alley.

Edit 2: Destiny Islands maybe isn’t as technologically un-advanced as I and some had originally thought, but it’s still not modern day Shibuya or anything like that.

Edit 3: A lot of Destiny Islands’ culture is based on Japan.

Edit 4: This isn’t a “headcanon” at all. But I love to joke with the fandom, that Naminé and Xion might as well be Sora and Kairi’s daughters. LOL

Edit 5: And because of that one scene in KHII, where Kairi, arguably, hits Riku in the arm, if you look close enough--and that one translation of the KHII manga, where Kairi tells Riku not to be such sourpuss--I headcanon that these two somewhat play off just how much they mean to each other. But really, they love each other of course. I mean that platonically.

Edit 6: And I want to believe Minnie and Daisy could eventually go on an adventure with Kairi or something. I like the headcanon that Daisy’s a magician, too--since Minnie is strong with light magic--even though it’s not true. Haha.

Edit 7: Sora says Kairi’s name over and over again at the end of KHI and tells her “I love you” at the end of KHIII.

Edit 8: Riku is Sora’s best man at Sora and Kairi’s wedding. He’s also the “uncle” and godfather of their kids.

Edit 9: Speaking of, Sora and Kairi have a daughter named “Sakura”. But it’s pronounced like how you would say “Sum” (but drop the “M”, of course) and then “Cora”. “Sumcora” (but without the “M”).

Edit 10: Kairi’s a Disney princess.

Edit 11: Max Goof exists in the KH universe, as do the Three Caballeros, who Donald is friends with.

Edit 12: Terra and Naminé are friends.

Edit 13: This is completely unoriginal--and just “Riku” backwards--but in fics, I often call Riku Replica “Ukir” (I pronounce it “You-Kai-Err”, because I’m too lazy to come up with anything else and don’t want to steal other people’s ideas. And Repliku probably did want to be the opposite of Riku, so... -shrugs-

#Kairi was also probably a popular girl and maybe a cheerleader. I also bet aqua was acheerleader #and aqua is a tomboy too of course with some girly qualities. probably more than lionand less than kairi #I don't think any of the kh girls wear makeup usually. maaaaaaaaaaaybe Namine. but I'm not even sure about her #and I headcanon that a lot of the novel stuff is true. like terra whittling wood. and him liking nuts. and aqua loving to bake #and this is more a ship than a headcanon... but I weirdly kind of ot3 Xehanort Eraqus and vor now

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blankdblank · 3 years

Text

Hobbit Soulmate Pt 27

“Gimli!” Straight out of the gate your head turned finding Sean there already waiting at the car from his own spot on the plane way up in the front sending him out much sooner than the pair of you. Warmly he wrapped you in a hug and nodded to Joe behind you who grinned doing the same while people who had cameras stole the chance to take pictures if the star and his mostly unknown friends. Only, most of the staff here had at least an idea of who you were having seen you in ample press pictures with the rest of the wider known cast. “Fly alright? You look a bit beat.”

Shaking your head you replied, “Flight was good. Glad to be back, nothing but rain back in New York past few days.” Sean smirked making you giggle, “It’s different here. Little drizzles, that was buckets and my feet are sore from having to walk after the subway flooded twice. 37 blocks, both ways.”

“Ow,” he chuckled smoothing his hand over your back saying, “I’m guessing you don’t have a car.”

“Nope, and everything on my block is no parking, other than a garage three streets over that is twelve bucks a day. No thank you.”

He chuckled again easing his arm around your back to kiss the top of your head asking, “No Richard this time?”

“He had some auditions. But he’s pretty happy with his walk on bits he did get last year.”

“No doubt he’ll miss you terribly.”

You smirked up at him saying, “Well we’re doing Holidays again in England, got asked to go to Oxford for a story they’re writing on recent alumni.”

Sean, “Oh that’s good.”

Joe nodded, “One of the few from the Arts division chosen, most are academics, scientists and a couple musicians that got hired by exclusive orchestras.”

“Mainly a hopeful bit for mine, what I could do I think. Guesses on how my next premier will go.”

Sean smiled, “Do we get invited?”

Smiling back at him you said, “I did have the chance to name the closest 20 on these films to come see it, if you can. At least for the one in London, the premier in America I had to leave a spot for Jennifer Lopez, she’s been asking about it. No doubt Jennifer Garner and Colin Farrell will want in on the fun after sneaking from their film sets to mine a few times.”

In a hum he replied, “Well I look forward to it.” Turning his head to your father who eyed the familiar driver huffing to calm himself after his late arrival.

Shaking his head he approached saying, “I am so sorry. Some bozo thought he could park on the bridge halfway here and it is just crawling.”

“It’s okay,” you three said and you added, “We knew you wouldn’t be late unless there was some foolishness about. If it helps my driver in Canada got deterred by a moose.” Causing his smile to creep out and his hand to extend claiming your bag to carry back to the car waiting for you he put in the trunk along with the others. “Thank you.”

Already with their keys most of the cast had let themselves into their usual rooms in the shared cottages on the compound and while you were unloading your bags Ian came up behind you saying, “Now you absolutely have to tell me what this delightful film is going to be about.”

Without turning you started to giggle and hoisted your duffel bag to your shoulder, “How big is the press for this? Everyone keeps asking me about it.”

Ian smiled saying, “Merely because my Dear, you have neglected to share just what the film is about. Suspense is everything.”

Sean, “I haven’t gotten an answer yet either.” Hoisting his bag out.

“That is because it sort of sounds ridiculous when I describe the film.”

Ian simply replied, “Try me.”

You sighed saying, “I am a ballet dancing Selki in a traveling show. There’s an obsessed Inspector who’s a monster hunter who thinks I’m a succubus. Tons of murders and Rich is in it too, an injured former dancer, rescues me and it turns out he’s a fish monster.”

Where you expected laughter a glimmer of something flashed in his eyes close to both intrigue and adoration and Ian replied, “Wow,”

Sean, “I love fantasy films, and you mix murder mysteries and I am in heaven.”

Ian, “My Dear, that sounds fantastic.”

Sean, “All the better she’s added us to the lists for the London premier.”

Ian’s smile grew, “I shall dust off my best suit for it. I cannot wait. I can never resist a good fantasy. Even that film where the children find fairies in their garden can’t resist watching it every time it plays.”

Sean said as you thanked the driver again who closed the trunk readying to head off again nodding his head to you in return, “No worries, we won’t spoil it for the others.” Flashing you a wink on his way to his cottage.

Up to yours your father unlocked for you both Ian joined you as you asked, “How big is the press?”

At your worry he said, “Just as it should be, though for an international film it has quite the reach, both the UK and States are talking about it and even Liv on her vacation in France heard about it there. Is it in English?”

“Mostly, yes, but I have a bit in Russian and Richard speaks some French with a French accent. I believe there is an Italian opera singer who’s a mermaid. They said it will have subtitles for those parts depending on the country it is shown in.”

“Do not worry about the press, you have performed admirably to promote this film without even going on a talk show building a hype that others are whispering about it far beyond what they had planned no doubt. Not to mention the fact you missed one big budget premier to finish filming it.”

“Still feel terrible about that. I thought my part would be smaller and they wouldn’t need me. I was his fourth love interest for heaven’s sake, his films it’s always a blip and you’re gone. Only filmed a week.”

“Very well done for a week alone. I could not have told that it was on such a small schedule by the look of it. Any more stops planned?”

“There’s two more films premiering in December. Then I do have some press lined up through Europe in January, producers lined everything up for me.”

Ian sat down on the bed beside you saying through a pat of his hand on your thigh, “This is your first time leading a cast in a big budget film. You will adjust to it.”

“Not a very big budget film compared to this, and it’s a lot like Sleeping Beauty,” His eyes looked over your face, “Aurora has arguably the least time of all the Disney Princesses in a film centered around her.”

“It still counts. The new year is not far off, just let it brew up some more and see how it settles. For now however, Peter called and he is on his way, now if you were guessing on who is up to something it would be him.” Making you smirk again standing as he did to help your dad order something to eat from the nearby takeout places.

Familiar confusion on which cottage to go to was broken by the trio of delivery guys who split up taking what was ordered to those waiting outside their cabins with cash in hand. While unloading your bag of trays Peter arrived finally at the door he knocked on once it opened and you replied, “Dining room.” When he came into view you smirked seeing the director now almost half of what he used to weigh, “Every time I see you a chunk of you is gone. Keep it up and you’ll be invisible.”

He chuckled moving closer with arms extended to hug you tightly, “I missed you Gimli, and, I have wonderful news.” His eyes shifted to the newspaper on the table and he said pulling a binder from the bag resting at his hip, “I see you have heard part of the news.”

“Yes, King Kong, well done. I know you’ve been wanting it for a long while now.”

“Yes, now, this is a bit of a scuffle, however, I would love for you to be our double for Ann Darrow.”

“Really?” You asked with a grin turning to fetch the juice from the fridge you bought on the way here while your father brought glasses out for you both and a spare for Peter. “Is it too physical for Naomi?”

Peter let out a sigh drawing your eye from the glass you were pouring, “Partly, though the main reason is, there’s going to be wire work and we need to flail her about while Kong juggles her from hand to hand in a Trex fight.”

Joe, “Whoa.”

Peter chuckled, “Yes, there will be dinosaurs in this and a good chunk of the time on Skull Island Ann will be very physical, running, sliding down hills, being thrown about in fields and in green screen studios. I need someone with endurance.”

Smirking at him you replied, “More like you need a rag doll.”

Peter chuckled out, “In not so graceful terms, yes. I need someone who can have the muscle control to be flailed about but not be violently whipping themselves around to hurt themselves and those they work with. Which is why I would also like to ask you Joe if you would join as well. In the wire work when she is flailed you would be a great height to hold the harness she is dangling from to act as the hand holding her while we have another double from these films also who will catch her when you toss her back and forth. Andy will be performing in a cg suit playing Kong camera wise but you have the height needed to give her someone big to work against in her bits when she’s alone with Kong instead of just another tennis ball on a stick.”

Joe nodded feeling more secure on your safety with that plan on using him and another as your bases, “Sounds good. My schedule is open.”

Peter looked to you inches from begging and you grinned saying, “You really think I would turn down King Kong? Come on.”

Making him laugh and open the binder saying as he flipped through it. “Now, we’ve been compiling information on New York from the Depression Era, cars, clothes, dialog coaches and of course information on films and live shows what to expect from that and I think we have a good idea where to start. We were hoping to have your ideas on things, especially the outfits for Ann. Not to mention, Vaudeville shows for Ann.”

Through the following week the use of your time in New York and the feel for it and studies on the history of the city for several projects had you the perfect one to help. One mock up in particular in a sketch board had you saying, “You’re missing two buildings.”

The artist said, “No, the maps have that marked as a garden.”

“Well now, but there was a fire in ‘37 that ruined them. Had to tear them down, and it wasn’t till WWII was over that they built this garden.” From your notepad you passed them a sketch you had made the night before with a note of the book you knew to have a photograph of the buildings that was tacked up and later that day the images were confirmed and the sketch for that one was replaced with the proper buildings.

From fabrics, shoes, hair and makeup every detail was scrutinized along with possible choreography for the Vaudeville and live musical shows the film could hint to. Down to the final feather with just the detail scrutiny you combed through everything supplied to you the next two months had his producers more confident with what mock ups and changes he had brought to confirm that they were right in giving him room to film and produce it all in New Zealand.

There wasn’t much to your days on set. Blips in the background once again granting you ample time to delve more into the history of the Depression era to add even more details. David was there to play Faramir leaving to recover Osgiliath with you in the crowds. Days later you were in a forest as an Elf atop Misty to escort Arwen off to the Grey Havens.

Days of combing through their collected footage for the small musical shows were fully delved into with sketches and possible choreography drafted out by you and one of the movement coaches on the trilogy until the actual choreographer would be arriving the following year to work with the cast and extras. Plays from the era were gathered as well and compiled with the best to send off to the lead male interest for his role as a playwright. All the while Sean Austin between his own scenes directed a short film entitled The Long and Short of It. And the final bit you hid in the back of was flashbacks containing Boromir, Faramir and Denethor, including the day Denethor ordered his son to Rivendell.

Dedicated didn’t come close and as the Weta crew tasked to begin on the Kong wardrobe, props and models they absolutely cherished having your help in all of this. Each fully realizing how you had just bled out all this knowledge you had from the era, including tidbits you had learned from Mrs Henderson while you lived down the hall from one another. All the flaws and beauty of the time conquering such terrible times just exuded from the sketches and printouts you gave as references easing their path into setting the stage.

When it came to the boat however you were lost and let your father take control as he’d been on ships like the one from the film and knew docks and that aspect better than you. Down to comments or lines on navigation or the weather how it works around the center of an ocean. The island however was still a huge mystery and while you built the world Andy continued to build up his own investigation into apes and their whole world including having planned a trip to observe actual gorillas outside of a zoo setting. All the same you soaked up all you could while nursing your wounded pride at not being big enough to have earned a chance to audition for King Kong at all.

…

“Sorry,” Howard’s eyes shifted to you with a smirk from your bashful detraction of your hand. After mornings of working with WETA you found your afternoons here working with him again in scoring and the oh so sad song for Gollum and his back story.

Peter however chuckled from his seat where he was scribbling a few notes on things to tweak in the footage playing to the demo score for this scene you were tweaking, both of which Howard rolled back. “You know you have free reign for tips here, Dear.”

In a huff you said, “Sorry, just feel like no time has skipped since the sound board at Texas.”

Peter asked, “Soundboard? You worked on scoring in Texas?”

“Not just on it I was Howard for them when they drove off the other guy.”

Peter, “What? They made you score the film?” Almost sounding ready to pummel the director and management in charge of adding to your weight of the first starring role you had fully explaining why you were so relieved to be back here from those sets.

“Well it just started with us needing some music to dance to, as they have us a metronome to rehearse with while the original guy started his war with the director. So it was some violin and piano, no biggie. Nice and simple, then the role had singing as part of it as well as the dancing but the original songs he promised were nothing but titles so that was a Gaelic, French, Russian and English one, some lullabies, some with a bit operatic in it. Then by the time it gets to the end scene he wants a love song for the big finale so Rich helps me out with that on his cello and then they hear the demos and how I just blended the film perfectly, and then I end up scoring it too.”

Howard sighed then asked, “Please tell me it didn’t have to do with us naming you as part of the crew for the past one.”

“Not entirely, no, I studied at Oxford, and Juilliard. Performed on Broadway, won a Tony for that. And then I got the first film as my first role and got to work with you. So I must be an expert.” A moment you sighed and smoothed a hand over your face, “Sometimes I wish my grandparents didn’t brag so much about me.”

The pair chuckled and Peter asked, “I almost hate to ask about Daredevil.”

“Oh,” you said with a sarcastic chuckle, “I loved the Selkie film, I was exhausted beyond belief but at least I had my family and Rich out there to help with the scoring and choir to go with the orchestra. No, no, Daredevil, is no longer Daredevil,” that had their brows arching up in confusion, “It’s now Daredevil and Elektra, two films dwindling my role in the first to nothing. So instead of letting me keep my nap time the Director decides I can play a stewardess too! So I got that my cafe blip, a second of a glance in a party scene and I was wrapped. Got to meet Colin Farrell but other than that, Daredevil was a dud and I have never met anyone like that Director before. Almost tore my leg muscle by his telling the wire guy and not me he was changing the moves while I was mid freaking air! Another guy had his collar bone fractured! You don’t do that to stunt people to ‘make it cooler’ by adding a wall slam mid fight!”

Peter, “I’m so glad you weren’t hurt.”

“I’m glad it’s over. And I highly doubt I will work with marvel again if he’s at the helm. If ever. But it was fine, but hectic, but fine. Glad to be back here to see what you’ve been hiding behind your lenses.”

Peter smirked and Howard asked, “If I can ask, how do you think you did? Scoring?”

Softly you sighed, “Well, if they don’t touch anything I did past a few trimming of edges, and I do mean edges, there was this bird that just kept dangling into the set scenes on side shots. Cuz they just had some scenery shots out in Russia and Switzerland, and then we did the rest on sets in Texas, so it should be easy to finish it off. If they don’t touch anything else then it should be pristine. I think it’s amazing, it’s not a multi million dollar budget thing, but I think I did good. Film is on my shoulders if it isn’t seems like, so fingers crossed my family and Rich weren’t lying at how they loved it. But the producers are getting a glimpse and I should hear back from them soon before they finish off prepping to green light the theater tours and release.”

Howard, “I am certain it will be wonderful, you have a great ear and natural sense for this. Are they at least paying you for it?”

You nodded, “400 grand after renegotiations of my contract. Grandparents lawyers talked them up to that much somehow.”

Peter, “You are more than worth it.”

Unable to help it a grin eased across your lips and you said, “I’m gonna have 400 grand. I could buy a house!”

The guys chuckled at your excited giggle and glance back to the screen and Howard said, “Ah, yes, we are muffling the majesty of Gollum muttering.” Easing a knob a bit to the left to lower the music just a tad to not clash with Andy’s raspy voice in a whisper battle.

September into October was the layout for the trip to New Zealand and with a few calls of plans laid in stone you received the all clear from the upper guys on your Selkie film that they green lit it and were planning theaters now for the January release date hoping to hit the market when there would be a lull for fantasy and thriller films in the packed year with ample to entertain the public hastening things along. About a Boy answered your role with a check and as Enough had left theaters and gone to disk and vhs you got that money too. With a promise of three more film checks to come not just helping to pay off the rest of next years rent and grant you more savings to dip into for travels and possible roles and events that might pop up in your ever changing life.

Home again to your chilly apartment you went, while your Dad went south to get some more months on the ranch before the flight to England for the Holidays again. First he had tried to wiggle out to give you time alone but Richard had already called him and tried to plan a surprise for you in means of an exploration trip of a new spot from his childhood he’d yet to show off to you he knew you both would love to see this time of year booked solid the year prior. Catching up with some old friends from school you kept yourself busy with a movie trip for two films you’d yet to see before heading to some museums and the remodeled aquarium simply falling back into an easy pattern to your days on your own. An odd thing to have missed, just these solitary lazy days where you were free to do as you willed yourself to before heading home to get some sleep. Found rabbit ears had helped you to get a few static to clear channels to browse through after you had finished sorting through all your backed up junk mail, as anything important was sent ahead by your landlord to where you were staying through the year.

Lee however in his usual fashion swooped back in post trip to Canada to go and spoil your peaceful solitude flying back to share his trip with an irritated plop onto the bed after you had let him inside. Apparently just a day before the table reads he joined the rest of the cast groaning at the loss of the lead female in the show only meaning auditions would have to be held again while the others hey had lined up as back ups were already booked on other gigs. Puppy dog eyes ensued and what you thought might be a longer vacation for yourself was being threatened by his hazel eyed self close to pouting and begging if he had to so this role could not be lost and his best friend could work with him on it possibly rooming together as well.

Though thankfully for you jet lag kicked in post take out stop and went to his apartment downstairs to get some well needed sleep with a promise to be back up in the morning for the flight out to California for the premier of The Ring. Excited to share his own news Richard took up most of your night spilling all on how he had prepped for his latest role before regrettably apologizing for keeping you up so late at his own yawn warning him of the time. Giggled off the remorse faded and with a few moments of a grin he readied for bed as you laid out and tried to get some sleep before the flight with a promise to call you after you had seen the film to spill on how it all went.

“Where the hell,” watching the luggage drop onto the turning rack you muttered not seeing your bag after Lee had hurried around the conveyer to grab his own he had missed thanks to a group of Hockey players diving between you. Shaking that off you got back to scouring for your bag only to turn your head seeing Lee with your bag and his in his hands, “Hey.”

Chuckling your way once he’d blown his hair away from his eyes he said, “It was tucked under mine.”

“Aww, well it gets lonely I guess.” Making him chuckle and tilt his head as you shouldered your bag.

“Let’s see if we can find a cab.”

A few steps later you said, “Thanks, for coming with me.”

“Hey, I promised I would.”

“Just, I know you’ve been trying to research for your new show.”

That had his grin split out and he said, “Speaking of which, I hear they are having to look for a new female lead.”

“Lee,”

“Oh come on you would be perfect, and we get to act together. You get to be my sister who talks to inanimate objects making me reconsider everything I stand for.”

“Seriously, first the Selkie then that, I might get a reputation.”

“For having an incredible imagination, yes.” His glance out to the line of taxi’s had his head swiveling until you heard your name being called.

“Miss Pear! Oh, over here!” A grin spread across your lips seeing the familiar taxi driver you’d gotten the last time you had come to town to visit Lee. His hand reached out to swat the hand away of another driver trying to hold up a sign for his own cab, “Stop it, I know her, you leech.”

Lee glanced at you and you said, “I’ve ridden with him before.” Crossing the walkway you approached him saying, “Morning Aarush.”

His smile split wider, “You remembered my name!”

“How could I forget? You were so kind to me.”

Chuckling to himself he led you to the back to open his trunk, muttering, “A celebrity knows my name.” You smirked and he hurried to close the trunk and hurry to his seat to take you to your hotel. A signature from you and Lee on the back of the Polaroid you pulled from your bag hid him just about glowing taking your tip and hurrying off promising to call his family about the celebrity couple he had picked up from the airport.

Exhaling sharply your held grin deflated and you rubbed your cheek making Lee chuckle and hum out, “I think you made his year.”

“Oh come on Casanova, let’s get to our room so I can eat something before we get shuttled around again.”

Inside the doors of the not so luxurious but oh so expensive hotel you had been booked into by the production team he answered on the way to the desk, “Do you have press for this?”

“No, there’s another interview at the after party for another magazine but other than that I’m not huge in this. Besides the other teens are bigger names than I am. They have been doing all the rounds on shows and such.”

Once at the front desk the man eyed Lee and then you smiling as he recognized your face clearly from the portfolio of actors coming to stay here for the premier. “Miss Pear, we were not certain when to expect you. There are storms blocking travel from a couple of actors flying from England so a number have been delayed.”

“Well it’s all clear from New York.”

“Wonderful,” he said with a grin and assembled your card keys and said, “All the information for room service and the tv is all up in your room, simply take the elevator on the left up to the fifth floor.”

You nodded saying, “Thank you.” Stepping aside with a glance to the front door seeing Naomi Watts entering with her boyfriend Leif, after a huff in lowering her bag onto a cart brought over for her she smiled and waved your way gaining a wave in return as you passed into the hall out of her sight. Lee hit the button and you came to a stop beside him, “I think I want a burger.”

“Burger sounds really good right now.” In a glance down at you he smirked adding, “You remember Tracie Tohms?”

“Ya, she was in a few of my classes.”

“She’s on the show. You’d get to play best friends.”

“You are shameless.”

“Oh come on, at least come out and look at my rental there. Say hi, come see the Niagra set with me.”

One glance at your phone and your math said that Richard was still in his last audition and could be home afterwards to hear about the film and possibly Lee’s offer. Knowing which room you were in the burgers were rushed up to the room and at the table you listened to the cartoon film playing on the tv between muttered bits of conversation on what your part was in this horror flick mainly to let him know how terrified he would be to sleep in the bed beside yours tonight. A notion you giggled away saying you were chilling but not out to throttle him in his sleep, brushed teeth however followed easing the dishes on the cart outside the door joining others from fellow actors wishing to snack before the evening ahead.

Back in your indigo short sleeved velvet dress and black tights you secured your black booties tied with the decorative indigo laces. Just a moment Lee lingered in the doorway admiring your look as you fluffed out your hair in the mirror aimed at the beds once on your feet confirming in the dimmer room that your makeup was suitable under bright and dim lighting. Turned around you grinned looking over the tall date you had smoothing his hand anxiously over his navy tie to go with his charcoal suit. “Look at you trying to steal my thunder,” That had him chuckle and glance to the door at the knock from your assigned aid to get you all into the right cars and you grabbed your clutch.

At your side he went down and with his hand on your back he took notice of Liev and Naomi’s curious murmurs and inspection of your unknown date you had brought with you. To the cars the line of actors went and all in a row each of the cars emptied onto the carpet with more smiles spreading at noticing you had arrived before gazes shifted to Lee who was clearly not how you described your Mate. All the same with his hand still on your back he walked with you trying to not seem so bewildered towards what was going on around him.

Amber was the first one you reached and into a hug she tugged you then pulled back, “You look amazing,” you muttered into her hair.

“Thank you, so do you,” she said when she pulled back again and looked to Lee, smiling again shifting her fingers against the purple skirt of her dress, “And you would be?”

“Lee, Lee Pace.” He answered with a flinch of a grin.

“We went to Julliard together, my best friend.” You said bumping your hip into his making him chuckle at his absurdly skyrocketing nerves.

That widened her smile, “Well welcome, welcome. Let’s introduce you to the guys,” she said reaching out for your hands to show you both to the group of teens from the film greeting you fondly and Lee as well once Amber shared who he was.

Naomi came next in their interviews with Liev at her side, both in black, “There you are, you brought your friend today?” She asked in a brief hug.

“Yes, Rich isn’t the best without a cushion for horror films,”

Making Liev chuckle then lowly mutter, “Aren’t we all in need of a cushion.”

“This is Lee, best friend from Julliard.”

Liev hummed out, “Drama, dance or music?”

Lee, “Drama.”

Naomi, “Ooh, have you been in anything we might have seen?”

Lee nodded, “Yes, I had a part on Law and Order: SVU, and I have a film coming out soon.”

Liev teased, “Let me guess, something with sports?”

Lee chuckled and shook his head causing Liev’s brow to tick up, “Burlesque dancer, actually.”

Naomi’s brows shot up and you bit the inside of your lip not to laugh, “Do they have male burlesque dancers in the States?” Asking her boyfriend who was smirking.

“Only Tranny’s and Drag Queens, brave choice.” He rumbled back to Lee.

Lee, “I was lucky to get it, and Jaqi helped me with the dances and movement a great deal. Owe a lot of it to her really.”

“Could have paid me back with those thigh high boots if your feet weren’t so damn big.” Making Lee chuckle and rub a hand over the back of his neck as Liev chuckled knowing the difficulties of playing a transsexual from one of his prior roles.

Naomi smirked looking to you asking, “Any new roles coming up?”

“Other than playing your stunt double,” making her lips part, “Not really, congrats by the way, Ann Darrow, is a phenomenal character to land.”

“Yes,” she said, “They did confirm I was cast the lead. I met Peter, he’s quite, intense on his vision, right?”

“Um, I wouldn’t say intense, determined, might be closer. Did he say something?”

“Well no, just, I got this amazing audition for this part I have been dying to hear is close to production.”

“Oh?” the guys around you caught your flinch of a betrayed expression you masked at Lee’s poke to your back in her excited glance upwards in search of the right words.

“I can’t say much about it but I know you’ve been here, so many jobs to pick from and you just want to do them all, but with oceans in between it just isn’t possible.”

Lee grinned stopping you from speaking in a squeeze of his arm around your back pulling you into his side, “Exactly, Jaqi’s a bit torn on accepting a show we’d work together on. Bit last minute back up in Canada.”

Naomi, “You should just take it! I know how much you said you loved Canada.” Her name got called and she grinned saying, “See you inside.” And led Liev off who nodded to your forced nod.

Under your breath when you were alone you whispered, “Intense on his vision?”

“Look, I know you love Peter, but hey you have to look at the golden lining.”

“Which would be?”

“She drops out they audition again, right?”

“Great, so I can be skipped over twice.”

“Oh stop,” he said turning you at your name being called for your round at pictures and a few questions on the way inside. Under his arm again he hummed by your ear on the way inside, “You got Gimli, don’t forget that. Peter has been showing you off,”

“That doesn’t-,”

“And, if the role is empty close enough they will be desperate.”

“Thanks,” you replied sarcastically.

“You know what I mean. You will blow the big boys out of the water.”

Inside up closer than you had sat before, your seats were claimed and with his hand fixed in yours Lee settled down only to loop his arms around yours within just the first production logos for his nerves. The difference from your opening scenes just talking with Amber to your asylum scene had his jaw dropping and leaning in when Naomi’s character left you heard him whisper, “Good gracious woman,” behind your lifted hand you giggled making Naomi and Amber a few seats over having caught that giggle too. Tiny jumps and squirms closer to your side echoed of reactions around the audience until your hand covered your mouth to not make a shriek like others when Martin’s character was turned and revealed to have a warped face. On your other side Martin chuckled patting your other hand to comfort himself after his own hard flinch unsettled by the expression as Amber had for hers earlier.

The party after had him nearly fixed by your side choosing not to schmooze and catch up with you until his interview turn came up and he sighed freeing the seat beside you for a short time at least if he had his way. Another sip for you was halted by a flinch at Liev’s voice by your side, “She wants to work with you, you do know that?” That had your eyes on him fully, “Because it’s not avoiding working with you again, she loves working with you. Perhaps even better on less terrifying terms this time around. It truly is a project she’s talked about for decades.”

“Oh no, guessed it’d have to be big, must be, to pass on King Kong.”

That had his grin creeping wider, “Exactly.”

In his glance over to her distant laugh had Lee saying, “It’s Peter’s dream film,” making Liev look at him again, “Waited for decades to get to film it, he doesn’t mean to be intense, just wants it to all fit his dream picture, from what I hear.”

Liev smirked at you saying, “I know you like him, worked with him before, you talked about him like it, it was something like magic what he pulled out of his hat, that’s why she wanted to give his film a chance to get a hint of that magic. You don’t find that often, if at all. She’s taking all the options in stride, and maybe she can line it all up how you are able to. I just didn’t want you to think it might be you she would be avoiding by possibly choosing against it.”

“No I get that, really, it would be great to work with her on something. I don’t know, guess I’ve never been on the other side, seeing someone choose against a project like I have before.”

“No,” he chuckled out, “It is new, and often there’s no explanation afterwards. Been there.” You pointed subtly and his eyes shifted to her again with brows raised and he grinned seeing her grin and nod over making him chuckle out, “Being paged, see you later.”

Lee chuckled to himself when he was out of earshot and murmured to you, “Peter does more than magic and so do you. Stars’ll line up, and I will bet you on that.”

You smirked at him, “And just what do you have on you to bet right now besides your dad’s borrowed tie?”

Deepening his grin, “Ouch, I may be penniless but I have my perks.” That had you giggling and shaking your head to his chuckles only to turn it seeing the first of the interviewers approaching the pair of you he noticed was not like the other actors in a steady loop around the room, more preferably stationary to encourage a more proper interview with a good writing surface. Of course with smiles to welcome each fully once they had tired of the others.

Pt 28

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea , @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455, @xxbyimm (Hobbit x oc)

X all Rich. A - @abiwim, @deepestfirefun, @thestorybookmistress

X Lee P - @tigereyesf

#Richard Armitage x Reader OC #Liev Schreiber x Naomi Watts #The Ring Premier #Time Alone #Lee Pace x Reader OC

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

Summer Nights (Two)

Welcome back to the story! Peter Quill as Tom is my favorite, Tony and Steve re-unite, misunderstandings abound and our boys get their hearts broken just a little bit more.

MASTERLIST HERE

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

The pep rally was lack luster at best-- forcefully over enthusiastic cheering for a football team that hadn’t won a game in several years, a semi exhausted speech by Coach Lee who had been head of Andover High athletics since the dawn of time, and a cheerleading squad that was made up of mostly newbies stumbling through their routines and one overly peppy Scott Lang.

Steve had never once considered being a cheerleader, but Scott had talked him right into try outs and then into wearing a sparkly shirt to coordinate with the girls’ outfit and now here he was trying to get through a complicated lift without dropping anyone, or getting kicked in the face.

It had been an exhausting week trying to settle in to Andover. Senior year meant friend groups and cliques were already well established, and Steve had jostled from one group to another as he tried to figure out where to sit.

He was smart enough to sit with the nerds, but he’d gotten in trouble in history class for drawing all over his binder, which had apparently labeled him an art kid. But the art kids smoked cigarettes and other things, and Steve didn’t do that sort of thing. He was big enough to be a jock, but after witnessing him barely getting through the cheerleader tryouts, the coaches had stopped asking him to join the teams and even though Steve had heard rumours about the leather wearing, class skipping, car racing gang he had yet to even see them.

Not that he wanted to be a part of that particular scene of course. No sir, he was much better suited to khakis and button ups then leather and hair grease.

And besides, Steve’s current group of semi-friends wasn’t all that terrible. Thor was nice, almost overly nice, helpful and inclusive and always willing to drop whatever he was doing to spend time with Steve. Carol was hilarious if not a little jarring with her bluntness, Pepper wanted so badly to be grown that she hated everything about high school which was funny in it’s own way and Natasha...

Well, Steve was maybe a little sheltered but he wasn’t stupid. He knew Natasha could hardly stand him, thought he was too goody two shoes to hang with their crowd.

Her attitude sure made lunch and shared classes awkward but it had only been a week and Steve knew hoped things would get better. He had to move past sitting in his room and re-reading the few love notes Tony had written him this summer. He had to move past--

—Steve startled from his thoughts when a pen bounced off his cheek and rattled into the bleachers, and when he heard a loudly hissed “Pssst!”, Steve craned his neck in either direction, looking both ways down the row of football players until someone else leaned back and waved at him.

“Psst! Hi!” Peter Quill, jersey number seventy two, curly hair, an ear to ear grin, and the sort of build that made people swoon flashed Steve a smile. “How you doing?”

“Hi?” Steve waved back only because he was too polite not to. “I’m fine, how are you?”

“You’re gorgeous.” Peter whispered. “I was watching you on the field, you did great out there!”

“I dropped someone.” Steve whispered back and Peter shrugged it off with a cheerful, “At last weeks game I dropped my helmet and then tripped over it and almost broke my nose! You were way more graceful! Plus you’re cuter than me!”

“Thank you.” Steve blushed a little under the unexpected flirting. “Um-- yeah. Thank you.”

Peter made a writing motion on his hand and said, “I tossed you a pen so you would give me your number! You should let me take you out some time. I have great taste in music and a sweet ride plus I don’t hog all the ice cream!”

“Oh.” Just that fast the flirting lost its appeal and Steve’s smile dropped. “Oh I’m not— I don’t think—“ I am not ready for this. “I mean, um--”

“No rush.” Peter reached back and tapped the number on his jersey. “You know my number, you can just call me, alright?”

Steve hesitated because a football jersey number was definitely not a phone number and honestly, he didn’t know if Peter knew that. “...sure?”

The pep rally exploded into cheers just then, cowbells and foghorns as Coach Lee said something exciting, and Steve put Peter out of his mind as he ran back out with the other cheerleaders and tried his best not to let one of the girls fall.

He was not ready to date. No thank you.

Afterwards, Thor met Steve at the sidelines and swept him into a hug, booming, “You were great out there, Steve! A true natural!” while Carol cracked jokes about wanting to join the team just to look under the girls skirts and Pepper filed at her nails and commented something about how Steve’s pants made his thighs look amazing.

Natasha watched the whole scene with pursed lips and an unreadable glint in her eyes and as soon as Thor had let go of Steve, she jumped forward to grab his wrist. “Come on, Stevie boy.” she jerked her head towards the other side of the field. “Have I got a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” It wasn’t that Steve didn’t trust Natasha, but wow he really didn’t trust the moody redhead so he was glad for Thor and the others who followed as well. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” Natasha said over her shoulder, and Pepper tugged at Steve to straighten his hair and brush some of the grass stains off his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Steve waved Pepper’s hands away but she shook her head and clicked her tongue, insisting, “You need to look your best!” as she dotted a little colored gloss to his lips. “I just want you to look nice, Steve! Stop acting like it will kill you to wear a little gloss!”

“Leave him alone, he looks fine.” Thor was too big too ignore, so when he pushed between Pepper and Steve, the redhead only huffed and put her make up away. “Come on, Steve.”

Ahead of them now, Natasha pushed through Sam and Valkyrie and ignored Clint’s wave to meet Bucky’s eyes and smirk when the big brunette straightened up in interest. “Heya, Buck.”

“Tasha.” Bucky cocked his head, letting his hair fall into his eyes as he looked Natasha over. “You’re looking good tonight.”

Natasha’s smirk grew into a real smile, but it only lasted a second before she turned her attention to Tony, folding her arms and tipping her chin up and sounding almost cheerful as she said, “Heya Tones. Boy oh boy, do I got something for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony tried and failed to sound even partly enthused, looking away as he took a drag at his cigarette. “Pretty sure there’s only one thing you got, and I’m not interested. Thought we decided you and I weren’t a good match.”

“I think I decided you were a little too Quick Draw McGraw for my taste.” Natasha shot back, but she almost regretted the poison in her words when she saw Tony cringe as if the words had actually hurt.

Tony Stark has a heart? Nah, no way.

“Either way,” she continued, a tad cooler now. “I found something pretty you left behind on the beach.”

“The beach?” Tony suddenly sounded exhausted, as if talking about the beach might actually take every last bit of his energy. “What do you mean something pretty from the beach? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about this.” Natasha whirled around just as the rest of the group came up, snagging Steve’s wrist and yanking him forward, nearly shoving Steve right into the middle of the group. “Surprise. Say hello, lover boy.”

The cigarette fell from Tony’s lips when his jaw dropped open and Steve stopped in his tracks and just stared---

“---Steve?” Tony whispered and Steve cried, “Tony!” and they ran for each other at the same time. Tony practically leaped for Steve, wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and dragged him down those few inches to crush their mouths together. Steve’s knees buckled at that first touch, but he kissed Tony back as hard as he could, fingers combing through Tony’s slicked back hair and dragging down Tony’s back until Steve could clutch at the leather jacket and use it to hold Tony right up against him--

--"What in the hell is going on?” From Sam, and from Valkyrie, “Who is this guy and why is Tony acting like that?”

“Tony?” Bucky cleared his throat loudly. “What th’hell, man? Who is this?”

Just that fast, Tony yanked away from Steve like his mouth was burning, stumbling back a few steps and wiping at his lips. He stopped and straightened the jacket Steve had crumpling in his hands, smoothed his hair back in a gesture that Steve had always found adorable but now only seemed... well now it almost seemed off putting, defensive even and Steve didn’t know what to think about that.

“...Tony?”

“So uh--” Tony cleared his throat and folded his arms, unfolded his arms and ran his hands through his hair again, kicked at the dirt and managed to look everywhere except Steve for a long minute before speaking again.

This time his voice was almost harsh, something unreadable in his expression, “Imagine that. My piece from the beach showed up at my school. What are you doing here, Steve?”

“Piece from the beach?” Steve shook his head. “My parents decided to stay here, my Dad got a great job and we found a house right away and--” he reached out for Tony again, ignoring the growing snickers from the group surrounding them. “--what are you doing? Why are you acting like this? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Well I mean sure, it’s always nice to revisit an old memory.” Tony’s eyes looked too dark in the light from the football field, dark and almost angry and Steve didn’t understand that at all. “But what’s summer is summer, and what’s school is school, so I don’t know why you’re being crazy about it.”

“That’s ridiculous, don’t say that.” Steve put his hand to his stomach as it started to twist uncomfortably. “I thought I’d never see you again. I gave you my number and then we never went back to New York and I was so worried you would call and no one would answer--” he stopped. “You did call, didn’t you? Tony? You called like you said you would?”

“Oh my god.” Pepper whispered behind Steve and his stomach started to hurt even more. “Oh my god, Steve has no idea what kind of guy Tony is. He never calls anyone.”

“Oh honey--” Carol sounded devastated for Steve, and even the so far smirking Valkyrie started to look a little uncertain. “We should get him out of here.”

“...Tony?”

“Of course I called.” Tony said shortly and the tiny flare of hope Steve felt was squashed when Tony finished cruelly, “I called exactly one time, but no one picked up so I figured I wouldn’t waste my time trying again. Even if I wanted to try again, I couldn’t keep your number and all the other numbers I got straight. You had a ten o clock curfew, babe, there’s a whole other world I was into after you went home to bed.”

“Wait wait, you actually called him?” Bucky asked in disbelief and Tony’s lips thinned into a frown as he retorted, “Well yeah. You see how hot he is, that body’s worth a call.”

“That’s enough.” Thor got an arm around Steve’s shoulders just before he crumpled, turning him away from Tony. “Stark you’re an asshole, why would you say that sorta thing?”

“Dunno why you’re surprised.” Tony’s fingers were shaking so badly he could barely light a new cigarette, but he did it anyway, taking a deep enough drag to make his eyes water. “You know who I am.”

“No no wait, so you--” Steve pushed Thor’s arm away, tears in his bright blue eyes. “--you lied to me? About our feelings and everything? About loving--”

“Summer nights make a fella do crazy things.” Tony interrupted and blew a plume of smoke towards Steve. “And I wasn’t lying, I was just you know… playing it up? Pretty boys like you don’t go for greasers like me, so I felt like it wouldn't hurt to be a little less me until you let me--” Tony could barely say it. “--until you let me get in your pants.”

“Oh my god.” Both of Steve’s hands flew to his mouth and Thor started to turn him away again. “Tony are you-- are you serious?”

“You don’t gotta give me some pretend speech about moving and changing numbers.” Tony waved Steve off. “I called, you didn’t answer, you obviously didn’t want me to call or you wouldn’t have given me an old number. I’ve done the same thing to people, so it’s fine. Sure is fuckin’ weird coincidence you ended up coming to this school, but I don’t care. No harm no foul, no hard feelings.”

“Tony--!”

“Real good to see you again!” Tony said over loud, forcing out a laugh that didn’t sound anything near natural. “I gotta say I prefer swimming shorts to khakis, though! No reason to hide those legs! Let’s see them gams, Steve!”

His group of friends burst into raucous laughter and Steve wrenched away from Thor and ran, the hoots and jeers following him across the field, along with Carol and Pepper calling after him to make sure he was alright.

“Well done, Tony.” Natasha clapped her hands a few times. “Look at you, living up to everything we know you can be.”

“Fuck off, Tasha.” Tony burned through one cigarette and lit another, muttering a curse when he dropped his lighter. “Don’t you have a corner to go stand on in that outfit? Try showing a little more skin, see what happens.”

“Hey!” Bucky shoved at Tony’s shoulder and scowled, “Ain’t no reason to call it like that, Tony. Tasha’s a lady!”

“I don’t know about being a lady.” Natasha said blandly, but her smile for Bucky was secretly pleased, and when he closed one pale blue eye in a wink, she might have even blushed a little bit. “But thanks all the same. Tony, I really hope you enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Fuck. Off.”

“Tony.” Bucky waited until Natasha, Thor and the other girls went off in search of Steve, and then asked, “Tony, you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Tony brushed right past Bucky and headed towards the car, cursing again when his pants caught on a strip of rust and snagged. “Hey, we should get this piece of crap into the shop and see about makin’ it pretty huh? Come up with a cool name? I’m thinking fins, running boards, a paint job in hot rod red and maybe even--”

“Tony.” Bucky jogged after him, speaking quickly before the rest of their gang caught up. “Seriously, are you alright? That was-- that was intense. The one person you actually call and he gave you a wrong number?”

“Summer fling, don't mean a thing.” Tony was clearly not okay as he picked at the nearly worn upholstery. “I don’t care about Steve. I called him once, he didn’t pick up, decided I wasn’t going to try again. Why waste time on someone you’re never gonna see again? There’s no point.”

“But he’s here now.” Bucky pointed out. “And you were sorta crazy there, Tony. He obviously missed you, maybe the number thing was just a--”

“Why don't you shut the hell up and just drive?” Tony snapped. “It doesn’t mean anything! He gave me an old number, I’ve done that to about a hundred people alright? S’just embarrassing that he’s trying to act like we-- like we--”

Tony coughed and shook his head. “Just drive.”

Bucky ground the car into drive, whistled for the other three to, “Hurry th’hell up or get left th’hell behind!” and Tony stared out the window and told himself not to cry as they peeled out of the parking lot.

He was not going to cry. He wasn’t in love, that was stupid. It was a summer fling, he’d been an idiot who wanted to continue it over the winter and Steve had given him a fake number. The woman on the other line had said she didn’t know a Steve, that he didn’t live there, not that Steve had moved or anything like that. Nobody just up and decided to move all at once, no one did that, no way that was real.

Steve had given him a wrong number or a fake number or maybe he’d lied about going back to New York altogether. Maybe he had already moved here but didn’t want Tony to know cos he didn’t want to keep dating and then it was just fuckin’ unfortunate they ended up in the same school.

Just fuckin’ unfortunate was all it was, but it didn’t matter.

Tony was not going to cry.

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

“I don’t know if I’m up for this.” Steve balked at the door to Carol’s house. “I’m not in the mood to hang out, and even if I was, this is a girl’s house and I think my parents would be upset about it. I should just go home.”

“I’m here too, it’s not like it’s you in a room full of lingerie wearing man eaters.” Thor was sort of shockingly strong and even though Steve dug his heels into the carpet, Thor just pushed him in anyway. “And even if it was just you alone, you don’t like the girls like that anyway. We aren’t staying the night, just having a little wine and a little gossip and--”

“I don’t really want to see Natasha.” Steve blurted, and Thor hesitated. “She hates me, Thor. See what she did with Tony? I don’t want to see her ever again.”

“Natasha is...” Thor waved at Carol’s parents as they passed through the kitchen. “Natasha isn’t as bad as you think, Steve. She was a bitch tonight but more than likely she thinks showing you how awful Tony is now will save you some heartbreak in the future.”

“I think she was just being a bitch.” Steve muttered, and Thor repeated, “She isn’t as bad as you think. Give her another chance.”

“...I guess.”

Steve stayed quiet after that, picked a corner of Carol’s room and stayed quiet as Pepper and Natasha flipped through fashion magazines, stayed quiet as Carol jumped up and re enacted a fairly hilarious commercial about toothpaste, stayed quiet when Thor retrieved a bottle of wine from his bag and the girls all cheered.

“Oh! I have the perfect snack for this!” Carol ripped into a box of Twinkies and held them high. “They were buy one get one free so I ate a box and saved us a box!”

“Twinkies and wine, Carol?” Pepper looked absolutely scandalized. “Real mature.”

Thor defended Carol’s choice with a loud, “I picked out a dessert wine, Pepper! Twinkies are perfect for it!” and Carol stuck out her tongue towards the prissy redhead.

“Well if it’s perfect, don’t hog it.” Pepper still looked irritated, but she snatched the bottle anyway, taking a quick sip and then holding it out for Steve. “You need a drink after a night like tonight, honey. Come on and have some.”

“Oh.” Steve hugged his knees to his chest and shook his head. “No thank you. I don’t drink. I mean, not other than a little champagne on holidays with my parents.”

“Of course he doesn’t drink.” Natasha tpssed her magazine aside and rolled her eyes. “Probably don’t smoke either?” Another shake of Steve’s head. “Of course not. What did you do in New York for fun, then? Seems to me like you were just a wet--”

“I have news!” Thor interrupted, effectively cutting off whatever no doubt rude thing Natasha was going to say. “I’ve decided to enroll in beauty school!”

The announcement was met with pin drop silence, and then Carol snorted wine out her nose and started screaming with laughter, Natasha nearly fell off the bed cackling, and even though Pepper made an effort to control her giggles, eventually she gave up and collapsed into absolute shrieks.

“Rude.” Thor huffed, fluffing his shoulder length hair. “I’ll have you know my interview went very well. They thought I’d be an excellent fit and I’m going to start taking classes after school.”

“OH MY GOD!” Carol was outright guffawing and Thor winged a pillow at her in annoyance.

“You’ll all be sorry when you want your hair done and I charge you a bunch of money for it!”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Steve spoke up and Thor beamed at him. “You should definitely do what you want to do with your life. Um, Carol, could I use your bathroom for a minute?”

It was obvious Steve was right on the verge of a breakdown so Carol pulled herself together enough to gesture down the hallway so Steve would know which way to go. The second the blond was gone though, Carol immediately started teasing Thor--

“So are you going to start piercing ears? I feel like that should be illegal, way too dangerous. Also would you please dye your hair? Any color is fine but I’m partial to blue. And oh oh god will you please perm your hair? Maybe just crimp it?”

“Keep laughing.” Thor said calmly. “You’ll see.”

“Oh I’ll see alright--!”

Carol launched into another round of teasing, but Pepper sidled close to Natasha and elbowed her. “You know, it was sorta cruel what you did to Steve earlier. We all know Tony is the worst, but you could have been nicer about having Steve find out.”

“Oh please.” Natasha was rifling through Pepper’s lipstick bag and finally settled on a over bright lip gloss. “Wouldn’t it have been worse if we let poor precious Steve wax on like an idiot about some version of Tony that doesn’t actually exist and then weeks from now when he finally figures it out, he’d be made at us for not telling him.”

“There’s better ways to do it than setting them both up in a bad situation.” Pepper protested. “Tony doesn’t show any emotion around those dummies! There’s no way he would have been even remotely decent to Steve tonight and you know it. I’ve watched Tony get kicked out of class just because he was too stubborn to apologize in front of his friends, you knew he wasn’t going to act right with Steve with Bucky and Val and the Tweedles watching!”

“... the Tweedles?”

“Oh.” Pepper waved a hand towards Carol. “We decided Clint and Sam are Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumbass.”

“That actually makes perfect sense.”

“Anyway.” Pepper pursed her lips. “Tasha I’m just saying--”

“Not a single one of you asked if I was okay after Tony dumped me this summer.” Natasha interrupted and Pepper blinked at her in surprise. “Not a single one of you. Tony and me went together for two months and then he disappeared and you and I spent almost every day together this summer and you didn’t ask once if I was alright with it all. But you expect me to care about Steve?”

“...I didn’t realize you cared about Tony.” Pepper said slowly. “I um-- I mean you always said it was nothing serious--”

“It wasn’t.” Natasha’s green eyes glittered coldly. “But you could have asked anyway. And now, boo hoo, pretty blond boy got his heart broken? Steve fooled around with Tony all summer and then is surprised when that leather jacket wearing degenerate isn’t as nice as he pretended to be. He’s so damn naive he deserves a good heartbreak.”

“That’s not really fair, Tasha.” Pepper murmured and Natasha only shrugged. “Nobody deserves a heartbreak.”

“Excellent advice coming from the girl with a list of romantic pen pals longer than my arm.” Natasha said dryly. “You stay here and hang out with blonde and prissy. I’m going to find some fun.”

“Wait, is Tasha finding some fun?” Carol interrupted. “I want to find some fun, what are we--” Carol’s eyes bugged out when the unmistakable sound of a car in dire need of some tuning rolled into her driveway. “Who is that! Is that the boys? Who called them, my parents are gonna flip!”

“I called Bucky when we got here.” Natasha tugged her shirt down a little more in the front and grabbed her purse. “I knew I’d be bored, and I knew he’d be up for a good time.”

“Okay but honestly.” Thor gestured around the room. “Carol’s parents will definitely have something to say about you going out with Bucky. What are you going to do, crack a window and shimmy down the drain pipe to get to-- oh look,she’s opening the window, she’s actually going to shimmy down the drainpipe-- Natasha! Get back in here!”

The moment the window opened, Bucky jumped out of the car, striking a perfectly casual pose where his t-shirt pulled tight across his arms and chest and his pants pulled tight everywhere else, his eager grin sliding into something heated when Natasha’s green eyes tracked his form and lingered beneath his belt line.

“What’s good, Buck?” Natasha stopped a few feet away, not bothering to be coy, not bothering to hide her intentions. “You wanna show me a good time?”

“You know I do.” Bucky hissed a breath through his teeth when Natasha shifted and her shirt rode up on her waist, and fumbled for the door handle behind him, swinging the creaky door open and motioning inside. “Your chariot, my Lady. Hop right in.”

“First things first, this ain’t that sorta party.” Natasha cut her gaze to Sam and Clint and Valkyrie who were sharing from a flask and making chicken sounds for some unfathomable reason. “Get rid of the baggage.”

“Yep.” Bucky reached back and clamped a hand on Sam’s collar and then the other on Clint’s and bodily dragged them out of the car, raising his voice over their squawking to order, “Valkyrie, you too. Hit the road.”

“Real shit day when a guy chooses a ho over a bro!” Sam called and Valkyrie echoed, “Real shit day, Buck!”

“Don’t give a damn.” Bucky slapped a few dollars in Clint’s palm and jerked his thumb back towards town. “Go get something at the ice cream shop, but leave us the hell alone, you hear?”

“Well what about Tony--?” Clint started to protest, but when they turned around to check on Tony, they found him already walking down the street alone, head down as he kicked at a few pebbles, hands shoved in his pockets as he wandered away. “Oh. Where’s he going?”

“Who cares?” Bucky did care of course, but he was way more concerned with the way Natasha’s fingers were plucking at his belt to wonder where his buddy was going. “Shall we?”

“Shall we?” Natasha mocked, but her smile was genuinely happy as Bucky pulled her into the middle seat so she was budged up against him. “Take me somewhere fun, Bucky. I’m bored and you should change that.

“Yes ma’am.” Bucky leaned in and kissed her, then backed out of the driveway. “Here we go.”

Upstairs, Steve watched through the window as Bucky sped away with Natasha whooping at his side, then craned his neck further down to see the lone figure of Tony still walking in the other direction.

“Is he really as bad as everyone says?” he asked sadly. “Is Tony-- I mean-- is he really who he was tonight?”

From his new spot sprawled on the bed Thor confirmed, “I hate to say it, Steve. But the Tony you met tonight is the same Tony we’ve known for years. He’s pretty much always like that.”

“More or less.” Carol agreed. “Sorry, Steve. Those guys, they put on those leather jackets and turn into grade A assholes.”

“Don’t sweat it honey.” Pepper popped up next to Steve on the window seat and opened up a box of perfume scent paper. “If you don’t want to pine over Tony, you can always have one of mine mkay?”

“One of your--” Steve’s eyes bugged open when Pepper unfolded an accordion style packet of photos, men and women, some military, some dressed up, some nearly naked. “Oh my gosh, there’s so many of them! How do you keep track?”

“ I am a very dedicated pen pal,hopelessly devoted to each and every one.” Pepper grinned at Steve and pointed to the first picture. “This one here is Happy. He drives limos for the rich folks in the summer time and when he gets done, we get drunk and fool around in the back seat. This one is the James Rhodes, he’s in the air force, isn’t he gorgeous? He sends me fancy things from Korea. Oh and this is T’Challa, he’s the Prince of some country somewhere and Nakia is his fiancee. I met them at a gala the Mayor threw and fell promptly in love with both.”

Steve raised his eyebrows and Pepper shrugged, “My parents are rich, I meet rich people. Oooh and this? This is Maria.”

“Ah Maria.” Carol sighed dramatically and Thor clasped his hands over his heart. “That woman could slap me and I’d actually say thank you and ask for another one.”

“Steve darling, you can have any of my pen pals except Maria.” Pepper said authoritatively, handing Steve a stack of stationary and a pen of his own. “You write the letter, I’ll send it, you’ll have a new heart throb in no time, someone who appreciates your honesty and sincerity and um--” she gave Steve a quick once over. “--pleated khakis.”

“Um…” Steve held the materials gingerly. “Thank you?”

“Worst case, you could always write a Dear Tony, Fuck You letter.” Thor suggested and Carol mumbled her agreement over a mouthful of Twinkie. “He deserves it.”

“I suppose.” Something sharpened inside Steve’s freshly re-broken heart and there was a determined glint in his eye when he asked, “Actually, do any of you have Peter Quill’s number?”

“...I do.” Thor said slowly. “Are you going to call him?”

“I think I will.” Steve lifted his chin and tried not to let his voice wobble. “Tony Stark sure got over me quick, I think it’s high time I get over him too.”

**********

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rwbyremnants · 3 years

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WARNINGS: anal plug, strap on sex. FALLINGPETALS(CinderRuby): making out. Aftercare cuddle puddle.

Hey all! Decided to update both this and "Princess And The Dragons", partly because PATD wasn't even updated correctly last time lol and partly to make up for not posting at all during November. More to come much sooner, we promise! Please visit our Carrd to stay up to date with us!

=Chapter 6

Seeing that her little puppy was spent, Winter grinned down at her. "So… did you have a good climax, Lady? Feeling all tingly?"

Very slowly, Ruby began to nod, grinning to herself contentedly. In truth, she was still seeing stars as she came down, and continued to bathe in the afterglow. Couldn’t even speak.

"Good. Now…. you can help me if you want or just relax and listen, but…" She bit her lip. "I'm not supposed to do this; it's not recommended for a Dom to confess to a sub, but I really need to get off. Immediately."

Even though she was still recovering, Ruby heard the plea. In fact, it filled her with delight, making her grin mischievously as she looked up to her Dom, and then reached out for the bag of goodies. "Let's see what we have here to help…"

A breathy little laugh escaped Winter as she watched Ruby inspecting the contents. "Oh, you might not even get that far; I'm pretty wet." Still, she was curious, so she only watched and waited to see what Ruby might come out with.

"Huh… You brought a few things tonight," she commented. One thing she brought into view for a moment was the choke collar, which was no doubt for her if they continued their pet play longer. Though she then placed that back down to bring up the other few items, such as a vibrator, then a glass tapered dildo, a regular dildo…

"Y'know what would be really cruel?" she asked, smirking lowly. "If there was a chastity belt in here…"

At that, Winter laughed, though her need still shone through the laughter. "Didn't think we'd need it here. And… I wouldn't let you put it on me, anyway. Remember, I… may be letting you get me off once, but I'm still the Dom tonight. I don't flip mid-scene."

"Fair enough…" The attempt at winding her up further was fruitless. But that didn't mean she was going to give up. She was going to help Winter, just like she first said she would. Looking back at the glass tapered dildo, she brought it into view. "These ones are more for butts, right?" she asked. "It’s so thin…"

Winter glanced at it, then laughed and fell backward. "Oh, I'd forgot I grabbed it! Yes… yes, it's for butts." Then she looked down at her again, curiously. "Did… you really want to stuff me? I was kidding before, but if you want to, by all means."

Ruby could only bite her lip nervously, looking back at the dildo again. It was certainly a lot harder than anything she had seen, completely solid. Even if she hadn't seen it herself, she was fairly sure Winter's backside could weather the treatment. After all, she said herself she had endured a lot of extremes.

"Do you want to?" she asked, holding it still. "I mean, you said you liked it."

"I do," Winter said, reaching down to slide off the bottom section of her outfit. She could have just shunted the crotch to one side, but it would have given too much interference. "Just remember how I… prepared you, and do the same for me."

"Like with the finger?" she asked. Although in that moment she looked back in the bag again for one important item. Something Winter remembered, but only seemed to have one pair of. "Oh… Gloves. Should I go bare?"

"You can reuse the other one of mine." She pointed to the pair lying on the floor. "It's only the outsides that have lube on them, so the insides should still keep your hands clean enough."

Picking up the one that had no lube present on its outside, Ruby soon slid it onto her left hand. The next task was to fetch the tube, and squeeze a small amount onto a couple of her fingers. "Oh… Do you want one or two to start? You're more used to it after all."

Both of Winter's eyes shot wide as she looked down at Ruby's face. "I… okay, you're new, it's fine. For future reference, though, you, um, can't really start with two. Or at least, it would be a pretty unique ass that could take two from the beginning."

Blushing up a storm once again, Ruby continued to coat just the one finger for a moment instead. "See, this is why I ask! I dunno if people can handle big things right away or need time, or what!"

"That's why all plugs taper," Winter laughed, but with Ruby, not at her. "To gently widen the sphincter. I mean, you can of course just ram anything in there regardless of size, but that leads to… well, let's not go down that road," she finished quietly, as if it were one she already had been down herself.

"Alright alright. Well… I think I'm ready, anyway." She displayed the thoroughly lubricated finger to get her attention again, shuffling toward her to sit at her side. "How are we gonna do this? Do you want me to sit by your side?"

"Wherever's comfortable," Winter sighed as she settled onto her back, easing her thighs apart so that Ruby could get a good view.

"Okay, right here is good." Looking down to the view below, Ruby was blushing at the sight. Winter was so wet! No wonder she was so desperate to finish, Ruby's actions had wound her up so much! Shuffling that bit further forward, she eased the finger inward…

Until it hit home, and began to circle the small ring just as she did. The effect was immediate; Winter sighed, stretching her limbs and allowing her eyes to close, obviously enjoying the advances. The muscle itself spasmed in response to Ruby's finger, a reflex more than a conscious action. In almost no time, Ruby was noticing her opening up. So much quicker and easier than she did. No doubt the sessions of doing this with other men, or even in her own time, helped. Testing the limits, she slowly pushed the finger inward more and more, testing her reaction.

"Mmmmhh, yes," she breathed softly. It wasn't quite the voice she had used when Ruby was going down on her, not that aroused and wanton, but darker, deeper. This was a woman who was most definitely at home enjoying the benefits of that orifice.

"Am I doing okay?" she asked, allowing the finger to delve in even further. What else did Winter try? That's right; she wriggled her finger as well. Curling her finger on occasion, she tested to see what effect it would have on her, lightly biting her lip in anticipation.

There was a shaky sigh this time, and Winter's stomach obviously flexed. "O-ohh, that's… well, look who's getting more adventurous!"

"So I'm doing good? That's… that's good." She grinned, now beginning to draw her finger back very slightly again. Once it was nearly out, she pushed it back inward again, at a slightly faster pace.

"Ohhh, YES! Ruby, you… really do learn fast, don't you?" Her thighs drifted yet further apart, prepared to weather the rough treatment from her sub. The smile on her face was elated, satisfied; there was no pretense about how much she wanted this.

Continuing to push her finger in and out, Ruby watched the reactions of her partner. She was so much more sure of herself than Ruby was, so much more pleased by everything. Pure entertainment.

After another minute or two, Winter licked her dry lips and breathed, "You… could either use two now, or… move on to that glass plug. Whichever you're more interested in."

But Ruby was still mesmerised by how easily her finger went in and out. It was oddly hypnotic to watch how the skin moved around her digit, dragging slightly with each exit. Eventually, she drew her finger out… only to add a second finger with it, gradually pushing it inside with her first one, and watching again how the skin adapted.

"A-aaaAAAHH! Oh yeah, wow, that's so much! Mmm…" Though she had seized, she then quickly fell back with her eyes half-open, just letting the sensation wash over her.

"Oh Winter… You look so good," she encouraged, continuing to push in and out of her body and widening her all the more. "How does this feel? Like… d-does it feel good?"

"It really does," Winter said in a voice of ill-concealed desire. "I've… loved having my ass played with for… years now." Then she smirked at the sub. "How does it feel for you, doing it to me?"

"It feels tight," she described to her, continuing to thrust her fingers in and out. "So very tight… No wonder you like this so much."

The Dom nodded down at her, flexing her hindmuscles around the two fingers so that Ruby could feel. "It's a powerful sensation… not quite like having my cunt touched, but still interesting. Still enjoyable for me."

"Like you have to tell me, after today!" She smiled, finally beginning to draw her fingers out slowly as she looked back to the glass tapered dildo. It was time. "Okay… Want me to do what you did? Quickly replace my fingers with the plug?"

"Yes," she said immediately. "The ass begins to close up if you don't act quickly, so then all that work your fingers did would go to waste. That's why I did it the way I did."

"Alright then. Let me just…. uh…." That was a dilemma. While she was holding two fingers still inside, she only had one hand to work with. And realised she had forgotten a crucial step. "I forgot to lube the dildo…"

Smiling sweetly, she said, "It's alright. Since we're not having a hardline session or anything, I can hold it while you lube it up. I don't mind."

Her hand raised, waiting. Passing it over to Winter, she took the lube in her hand once it was free, instead. With her help, she was able to squeeze a healthy amount onto the length of it, trying to coat as many of the ridges as possible. But that didn't mean she was going to stop teasing, and she began to wriggle her fingers inside the muscle again. Which nearly made Winter drop the implement, but she didn't; she was able to writhe under Ruby's ministrations and maintain her grip at the same time. Truly a woman who knew how to multitask.

But Ruby only smirked mischievously again when seeing how Winter was starting to struggle. Setting the lube to one side, she took the dildo from her. "You're really eager for this… Is it just because my finger is in your butt? Or me in general?"

"A… little of both," Winter replied breathlessly, smiling up at her sub as she began to shift her hips from side to side, just enough to increase the sensation. "You're learning so fast…"

It slightly tugged at Ruby's heart strings to hear. Especially when she had plans to be moving on soon to find a different Dom. She was yet to tell Winter that step. But she had to admit… "I have a great teacher." With another wriggle of her finger, she held the dildo close. "Okay, I'm gonna switch soon, ready?"

Nodding, the Dom looked up at her, eyes almost as challenging as they were full of desire. "I can take it."

"Okay. Here we… Go!" Within a few seconds, she drew her fingers back out again, and suddenly pushed the dildo up against her muscles instead. Just as easily, Winter’s body took it, accepting the first inch into her ass with no resistance. Just up to the same amount as her finger was in for now.

"OHHH!" It was almost more of a growl than a moan, and Winter sucked in air through her teeth afterward. But then she relaxed, eyes heavy-lidded as she grew more accustomed to the size and shape of it.

"There we go…" Mesmerised once more, Ruby watched as she pushed more of the object in, observing as her skin adapted to the various ridges of its shape. Once past the first one, she continued to push more, watching it widen over the changing surface .

"Oh… This is so weird… How does it feel? With all those waves?"

Tossing her head back and forth, Winter finally managed to concentrate enough to whisper, "So good… I… love this one." Her legs raised up, and one of the boot heels balanced on Ruby's shoulder, helping to open her up more to the efforts.

Grinning to herself, Ruby only continued to push it in further, watching in amazement as it went in and out, in and out. No wonder she liked this one, with the amount of ridges her body had to adapt to, it must feel a pure delight. With her free hand, she slowly stroked Winter's legs, trying to entice her all the more.

"W-wait," Winter breathed with a shaky laugh. "Mmm, that's really good, but… when you're through teasing me, you sh- you should leave it in."

"Leave it- o-oh…." Pausing for a moment, but still holding one end to make sure it didn't go anywhere, she double checked. "Are you sure? I mean, what if it gets stuck or something?"

Again, Winter laughed. "That's the idea. It's called a 'plug' for a reason, you know." Then she licked her lips. "And I can get it out later, don't worry."

"Oh… I'm an idiot," she quietly chastised herself, looking downward in embarrassment. But thankfully, Winter never held it against her, so she simply got right back to work. Pushing the end of it further and further in, she watched the rest of it's length sink inside, until…

It was fully inside, sitting easily within her. The sigh was not just one of relief, it was also full of a deep contentment. This wasn't strange to Winter at all; she felt fully at home with a length of glass holding itself inside of her back door. Resting there, refusing to budge.

"Yes, Ruby… thank you."

"Wow… you took it so easy…" Though realising that could possibly have a rude implication, she suddenly stuttered instead, holding a hand up. "I-I mean as in, you must really enjoy this! Gosh… do you prefer this to the… status quo?"

"Not necessarily," Winter sighed, shifting her hips from side to side. "But I do enjoy it quite a lot, to be sure. It's… comforting, and exciting at the same time. That probably sounds ridiculous, though."

"No no, I think I get it…" Though she tilted her head, observing the flared end of the plug that was still poking out of her. "At least… I might get it. Eventually… I'll bet if you said it to Blake or whoever else goes here, they'll get it." Unable to help herself, she reached down toward the base again. And gave one end a rather firm poke. "So you don't want it going in and out?"

Though Winter did shiver, she answered easily enough, "Not now that it's firmly in there. Although… I wanted to ask if you wanted to try something else. You can say no, if you like; not a problem."

"What is it?" She tilted her head, curious to see what else Winter had planned for their venture.

"Do you want to fuck me?"

Although her cheeks flushed red once more, she had to ask, "That's not what I'm doing?"

"Well, you are," Winter went on, hips still shifting back and forth slightly, the wetness of her lower lips catching the light. "But… I meant with either one of those dildoes, or the strap-on. Really fuck me hard. I'm primed and ready, and this will be an easy opportunity for you to check this experience off your list."

Suddenly the poor sub’s eyes snapped open wide. Winter hadn't even used the strap on for her at all yet, but now she was asking Ruby to use it? The tables really had turned this evening! "Wow… I-I mean… I would but.. a-are you sure? Can you handle that?"

All Winter did by way of response was raise an eyebrow.

"Well… Okay so you've handled more than that… dumb Ruby." But again, Ruby hesitated. She only looked at the bag for a while longer, continuing to debate. "Are you completely sure? Cause I mean… I'm a sub, doesn't this change the role?"

"Haven't you ever heard of a 'power bottom'?" Winter laughed. "But honestly, I'm just… so hot right now, I couldn't care less. Plus, the whole point of this arrangement is to show you how things work. Even if it's by you being on top. We can switch roles another time."

"Wow… you really want me to do this." She looked down at Winter's form again, and to the wetness between her legs. It was true, she was truly aching to be fucked, and fucked hard. How could she ever resist? So Ruby fetched the bag, rummaging through the items to pull out the strap on. "Well, guess I can't disappoint!"

The grin from the Dom was wide and eager. "Ohhh, yes. Yes, that definitely won't disappoint me in the slightest." Then she said much more reasonably, "And you won't, even if you're 'not good' at first; this is a teaching session now. I'll help you learn what to do and where to do it."

"Well, I'd better get this on, then." Giving herself a small nod of reassurance, she slid her legs through the straps, pulling the device up her legs as though it was a pair of underwear. Once at the top, she reached to tighten it in place, and then sat back to look at the new, large presence between her legs.

"J-just so you know…" She swallowed. The sheer size of it! And Winter wanted her to use this on her! The tables truly had turned completely, and Ruby's cheeks only got brighter. "I mean, it's probably obvious, b-but I've never used one of these before."

Since they had already discussed Ruby's inexperience, all Winter did was let out a small gasp of mock-surprise, one dainty, leather-covered hand at her mouth. To which in response, Ruby scowled, pulling up the sides again just to make sure it was fully in line.

"Ha-hah, very funny." Gently lowering Winter's leg from her shoulder, she shuffled over to change her position. Instead, she climbed on top of her, lining up the end of the shaft with the entrance to her sex. And for a moment longer, she teased again, brushing it right against the folds.

"Ohhhhh," Winter cooed, reaching up to perch her hands on Ruby's shoulders as she was ground against. "Mmmm, yeah, I'm so ready…"

"I can almost feel you." And she could. The way the length so easily slipped and slid over the folds could be felt against the base, right up against her crotch. Winter was ready and waiting, and she didn't want to disappoint any longer. With one hand, she supported herself against the ground, making sure to keep herself a comfortable distance. And with the other, she held the length, moving and adjusting it until it lined up with her entrance.

And once there, she pushed it in.

"Mmhhhhh!" Winter moaned, back arching off the floor as she was breached, feeling it slide in fluidly all the way to the hilt. Ruby was certainly wasting no time! Her eyes flew wide open as she weathered the intensity of the sensations, felt her body stretch to readily, thirstily accept its entirety.

It was a strange sensation. Even though she couldn't feel the warmth around herself, it was almost as if she could feel how accepting Winter was of the length from how easy the movement was. Drawing her hips back once more, she pushed forward again and again, staring down at Winter's ice blue eyes to watch her reaction.

"F-fuck… FUCK!" Winter gasped as she was entered over and over, head thrown back and eyes wide. "I'm s-so… full! There's so much inside of me! Ruby!"

Ruby could only move her hands to Winter's shoulders instead, holding her in support as she continued to fuck her harder and faster. Now that she knew Winter could handle all this, and practically feel herself that she was welcoming it, she was confident enough to pick up the pace. Already her own breath was peaking as she grinned; she knew she was doing a good job.

Very quickly, it became apparent that the Dom was becoming a complete mess. Thrashing back and forth, legs widening and breath coming faster. Even her tongue was hanging out by that point, so complete was her inability to articulate what was happening to her at her apprentice’s whim. And Ruby noticed, and could only smirk to herself. No wonder this was a position of power that Winter enjoyed on a few occasions; seeing someone come undone through the mere movement of her hips was astounding.

Testing how far Winter would let her get away with it, she whispered, "Look at you… pretty much sweating bullets down there." She leant in toward her further, continuing the brutal pace. "I'm driving you crazy, aren't I? Crazier than you've ever felt?"

The smile she shot Ruby was a deeply satisfied one; a fierce look of pride. Then she moaned, "Ohhhh, YES! Driving me insane! And I want more of it - more of you! Torture my cunt, it n-needs you!"

It was so strange to hear Winter talking so unhinged and eager. Especially when before she was so calm and composed in comparison. The fiercely blushing Ruby could only give in, trying to give her exactly what she wanted. Using Winter's shoulders for leverage, she pushed her firmly against the ground as she gave it her all, continually pounding that tight sex of hers with as much energy and speed as she could muster. She was determined to get Winter off no matter what.

Again, her head fell back and she allowed her mouth to hang open as Ruby ramped up her speed, as the friction inside her wet sex grew until she couldn't stand it – and she put up with even more, let her keep going. The climax was nearing, it was almost there! Meanwhile, her other two hands came up to touch lightly against Ruby's forearms, as if completing a circuit between them.

"Don't hold back," her sub begged, continuing to thrust hard while panting for her own breath. "Come… l-like I did for you! I wanna… make you come!"

All Winter could do was nod, not even able to form a coherent response. Digging in with her nails, she moaned, arching her back…

And felt pleasure explode within her. The twin sensations of being rammed into over and over while the presence in her ass maintained itself were too much, and she felt it running from tits to toes, screaming so much that it mixed with the echoes of the previous screams.

Incredible! Ruby could even feel her clamping onto it through the harness! Finally, she was sure she had given Winter an orgasm just as powerful as the ones she had given to her in the past, and all thanks to a simple plug in her rear end.

Talking of which; while she was still high from her gradually fading orgasm, she reached down to give it a very small tug against the muscles, hoping it would not only help loosen it for later, but make her high last that bit longer.

"O-ohhh!" Winter gasped out in surprise, spasming all over. "That's- Ruby, you kinky little puppy! Shit, that's so good, mmm…"

Not only did it make her sex clamp down again, but clearly, her hindmuscles were flexing against the other implement. Tugging at it yet again, she smirked. Having slowed her thrusting down to a complete stop, all she continued to do was tease with it, pulling and twisting in various ways. "Want me to take it out, Mistress?"

And her Dom smiled up at her, and delivered a somewhat unexpected response: "No."

"…Huh?" Immediately she tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, slowly bringing the length back out of her at least. Releasing the plug, she asked, "How come? I mean… you got what you wanted, right?"

"Because I want to wear it," Winter half-sighed with a small shiver from being exited… in one area, anyway. "It's… a symbol of pride, I suppose; from my sub's first time on top. Besides the fact that I enjoy the sensation, even beyond this main session."

"I… o-oh." Completely red, Ruby looked down at Winter wide-eyed. It had more or less become a souvenir of sorts, a symbol that Winter wanted to keep a part of her even when the session was over. That filled Ruby with more joy than she cared to admit in front of Winter.

But as well as that, it made what was possibly coming harder. When she had been so sure she was going to leave Winter tonight, try out a new Dom, she was now unsure. Everything about their evening had been wonderful, and she wasn't sure she would ever get that treatment from another. Nor did she want to hurt her Dom's feelings. Deciding it best to say nothing for tonight, she simply looked down at the harness, asking, "Then, do you mind if I take this off? It's… weird seeing myself with a dick."

That caused Winter to giggle, and she said, "Of course not, silly! And… we don't have to put it on you again, anyway. I just thought you might want the practice in case you were asked to in a future encounter." Sitting up at last, she added with a smirk, "And might I say, you did very well your first try. Very, very well."

The smile on Ruby’s face never faded, even as she slid the harness down her legs and off completely. Once that was done, she could finally zip back up the open bottom of her outfit, sealing it off completely from any potential further contact. She had been sated.

"I'm glad," she spoke with glee, holding the harness in her hand. "Is there anywhere we can wash this? It's obviously kinda… soggy."

"Oh, um, I usually have some grocery bags in there for that. You know, to keep whatever toy from dirtying everything else until we can wash it." Her smile turned cunning, even if clearly only teasing. "We could put the tail in there, or… give it another try…"

Right away, Ruby's face went red again. Eyes widening, she began to stutter all over again. "I-I… Uh…"

"Kidding, kidding! We'll try it again someday." Picking up the tail herself, she nipped it into one of the previously-crumpled plastic bags and tied it off. "There. Out of sight, out of mind."

Put at ease by Winter's insistence, she smiled joyfully, grabbing one of the bags for herself to put the harness and strap on inside and nip it back into the bag of tricks. "So, I was thinking about having a look around… like, get to know a few more people, maybe even some of the other subs?"

"Oh?" Winter looked vaguely disappointed, but not to the point of sadness or anything. Smiling, she picked up the sack as she pushed to standing, wincing a little from the plug still lodged in her body. "Y-yes, that's fine. I might see about joining Glynda in the tub, or just look in on the other rooms. Um… can you hand me the bottom half of this getup? Bending over right now would be… difficult."

"Huh? Oh! Right." It was very tempting for Ruby to simply ask her to bend over regardless, but that would be too cruel. Fetching the leather underwear from where she threw them, she assisted in putting them on so she wouldn't be too uncomfortable. "Are you sure you wanna walk around the club with… that in you?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," she chuckled, adjusting the garment and shivering now and again. "Mmhhh… yes, that's quite nice." Noticing Ruby's dazed expression, she dipped her head slightly. "Sorry, you… I suppose you didn't want to see your Dom doing anything subby, did you? That's my fault. But once you didn't want to take the plug, things sort of naturally became less about scenes and more about just, playing around. Right?"

"Yeah… Yeah exactly." And she had to admit, although it was unusual to find her Dom in such a reverse of circumstances, it did get her rather hot under the expensive collar. Which made her remember, she was still in the pet play outfit. "Am I allowed to walk around like this if I'm not playing?"

"Of course! Whatever makes you comfortable." Then she shrugged and added, "It's not as if you have anything else to wear in here. So, unless you're ready to go streaking…"

"NO! Nope, I-I'm good! I just… yeah, just wondered." Shrugging herself, she headed to the door instead, holding her hand on the handle to be ready to leave. "I guess I'll meet up with you later when it's time to go?"

Waving with a pleasant expression, she replied, “Yep! I’ll see you around the club!”

"Have fun with Glynda!" That was the last thing she said before she shut the door behind her.

------------------------------------

Well, you wussed out of that one…

That was the unfortunate train of thought Ruby was riding once she started to head back down the stairs to the main scene room again. She didn't even check to see if anyone else had left the viewing windows open just yet, as she was more interested in finding someone else to play with. Something to distract her from thinking she had failed.

Maybe it'll be easier to tell her over lunch or something, she thought, re-entering the scene room. Probably for the best, then there's no awkwardness of doing it right after we screwed. Like, who does that, anyway?! Super mean!

However, that train of thought was cut off when she thought she heard someone calling out to her, and glanced around. “Yoohoo!” called the raven-haired woman from earlier, locks swooped down to cover one of her eyes as she waggled her fingers in Ruby’s direction. “Little puppy!”

Curiosity resurfaced again. Winter said she wasn't overly fond of this woman, and she had no idea why. But that didn't mean she couldn't be polite, at least. Smiling back warmly, she made her way across the room toward her, giving a shy wave back.

"H-Hi!"

"Are you lost?" One hand reached out, caressing Ruby's neck teasingly before it trailed down to lift the little metal tag to get a better look at it. "'Lady'? Where's your master?"

Ruby couldn't help but shudder at the soft fingers caressing her so soon after her orgasm. This Dom was very confident, possibly even moreso than Winter herself. Swallowing and trying to remain just as confident, she said, "Our session finished, so I guess I'm just… wandering around."

The woman smiled, and it was both indulgent and sinister in the same moment. Amazing how she could pull that off. "Your master seems to trust her puppy. Either that, or she doesn't take good enough care of you." Her index finger slipped underneath her sparkling collar, tugging Ruby forward by force. "I'm Cinderella."

Uncertain eyes stared back into the fiery amber ones of 'Cinderella'. She had to resist the temptation to quiver; that would be giving away too much of her personal feelings. "Nice to meet you." She tried to keep smiling, even though the woman could probably scent her fear. "I-I'm… Well, my name seems to be Lady right now."

"Yes, it is." The hand then ran down Ruby's chest, gliding over her hip and lingering there. "Lady, would you like to play with me? If your master is… otherwise occupied."

Her breathing had began to hitch up already. The overwhelming confidence was both scary… and very, very attractive. Cinderella was certainly going to throw her into the deep end, it seemed. That was what she wanted, right? Winter had 'trained' her to be ready for others, others who would be rougher and harsher. And there couldn't be a safer place to try in the middle of the Clamp.

"Y-Yeah," she at first muttered, but then instead spoke louder. "Yeah, why not?"

The woman's firm-looking lips stretched into a smile. "Good." Then she pulled her entire body close, flush up against her own. Her expression remained unchanged, as if she had done nothing out of the ordinary. "Do you do kissing in play?"

Kissing was something she knew how to do, and something she had the most confidence in. "Yeah… I can do that."

As it turned out, Cinderella didn't ask twice. Her lips crashed into Ruby's a moment later, kneading and suckling at the bottom one. They were far hungrier than Winter's tended to be, moved faster, pushed in harder.

"MFF!" Forced into a deep kiss, Ruby made sure to give back as good as she got. Gnawing and biting at times, she already felt the woman's tongue brushing against hers. The hands grasping at her shoulders pulled her in tight, and Ruby felt all of her methods of escape disappearing.

But it seemed this wasn't going to be a brief contact. The kiss stretched on for another ten seconds before a tongue began to press in between Ruby's lips, using no small amount of pressure to let its presence be known. Ruby only continued to try and give back, trying to grasp at her temporary partner's shoulders for purchase; that was until Cinderella grabbed them just as hard, pinning her hands down and out of the way so she was helpless. There was no stopping her tongue, it seemed, which slid between Ruby’s teeth and sought out her own, sliding over it greedily and taking as it pleased. The Dom’s body began to rub up and down very gently, the studs belting the woman’s slight bosom gouging at the sub’s through her furry suit.

"Hmmm… Mmm…" It was difficult to figure out whether or not Ruby was moaning in pleasure, or grunting from the sheer overstimulation. Probably both. Still, she was in no mood to fight it, and only continued to kiss back and indulge in the moment.

Little did she know their moment would be witnessed.

"Listen," Cinderella cooed at last when she drew away from Ruby's mouth, both of them panting. "If you don't have to go wag your tail for your owner, why don't you come upstairs with me? I bet I can housebreak you."

Wow, that was quick. Ruby was impressed with herself; she had managed to get herself another Dom to play with right away, and not even half an hour after her session! And yet…

Something was holding her back. She didn’t know why, but 'Lady' couldn't shake the feeling in her stomach that something was wrong with this sudden arrangement. While she felt needy and eager for the rough treatment, she was just as equally troubled by the actions, unsure of whether or not to take the offer. To disregard Winter’s warning.

"U-um… Well, I guess I c-could…"

The woman's smile was dark and pleased. "Excellent. I still have a room prepared from my last appointment. Care to step this way?"

But as they turned toward the staircase, they hadn't made it more than a single step when they saw both Winter and Blake Belladonna barring their way. The latter was wearing an outfit not unlike Ruby's, though it seemed to be that of a black cat with a grey underbelly, and black high heels with tufts of fur on top rather than paw-socks. A large golden jingle hung from her red collar. Somehow, none of that took away from the commanding, displeased expression on her face.

"Lady, heel," Winter commanded, pointing down at her own boots. She didn't take her eyes of Cinderella.

Ruby looked back and forth between her temporary master and Winter, with widened eyes and a slightly more fearful expression. Not from what Cinderella was about to do this time, but from fear of disappointing Winter herself. She didn't know what to do other than stand here, looking back and forth between the two.

"Clearly, she doesn't belong to you anymore," her new Dom purred silkily, reaching up to caress the back of Ruby's head. "Poor Princess… can't keep her pets in line."

"Lady," Winter said again, voice quick and razor-sharp, like the crack of a whip. "Heel."

Clearly this was more serious. Although she didn't want to insult a potential new Dom, she didn't want to anger Winter any further than she already was. Giving a pained smile to Cinderella in apology, she stepped forward to Winter – and as commanded, sank down to her knees once at her side.

"Good girl," she murmured. Then her eyes, flinty hard, raised up to glare at Cinderella, who was frowning with her arms folded over her chest now that she had lost her new plaything.

"What?"

"You know ‘what’. Sub-poaching is a pretty deceptive thing to do, and even worse when you know the other Dom wouldn't take kindly to it in this case."

Cinderella laughed, a low chuckle of derision. "And what makes you think you own this sub? What right do you have to her? We all know you're a mediocre Dom, at best; and she's a free woman."

"If being a mediocre Dom means you don't leave your subs in the cold when they need aftercare," Blake shot at the woman, "then I'd rather a mediocre one like Winter be on top of me than you any day."

Ruby was listening all along. Sub-poaching? So Winter really didn't want her to find anyone else from the sounds of it. Even if she wasn't feeling completely at ease by this mysterious woman's intentions, Winter wasn't even going to let her try for herself. They would be discussing that later for sure.

But when she heard the latter part, she froze up again. No one would really be that cruel, would they? Even though Ruby enjoyed cuddling after a session, surely not everyone wanted the same, right? It had to be a misunderstanding.

"H-hey, it's my fault. Don't blame her, I just wanted to see what she was doing."

"There, you see?" Cinderella agreed with her, spreading her hands wide. "Your little dog wanted to enjoy a turn with a more competent master, that's all. I wasn't going to steal her fro-"

"You were, and you know it," Winter growled, vibrating with anger even as she brushed her fingers along the crown of Ruby's head. "Everyone knows about your oily way of turning subs against their other Doms if you take a shine to them. You'd start small, just commenting on how I don't do this well, or how I'm 'too this' or 'too that', but… Lady, after a few sessions she would be telling you how I can't do those things at all in comparison to her. And before you know it, you're all alone in her house, sobbing because she pushed you somewhere you weren't ready, and all she'll do is order you to leave before you 'stain her carpet with such ugly tears'."

Beginning to listen that much more seriously, Ruby seemed to sink closer to the ground, hunching her shoulders again as she looked back to Cinder from Winter. While she wanted to experience another Dom, it seemed she had chosen the wrong one. The last thing she wanted was a session where she would be kicked out before she was ready.

Already feeling nervous again, she looked to the ground, and instead muttered, "I wanna go home now."

"We'll all go," Blake spoke up softly, still glaring at Cinderella.

"Fine," the raven-haired Dom snapped shortly. "She seems weak, anyway. You always prey on the weakest. I expect more strength from my subs - more than this, anyway." Turning toward the rest of the scene room, she cast back over her shoulder, "Let me know if you ever grow a spine, Lady."

That comment made her feel smaller than she could ever make herself physically. And it showed. All Lady could do was continue to stare at the ground with shrugged shoulders, unable to even bear looking up toward her master or Blake. She felt too humiliated.

The two upright women led the forlorn Ruby down the stairs and into the landing. However, instead of turning toward the bar, they went back to a door that was just past the two for the restrooms. Another set of stairs there led down into the basement - or, as Winter had called it earlier, the "recovery lounge".

"We'll spend a little time down here," Winter more muttered than said. "As long as we need."

Now that she was on her feet again, Ruby took a moment to take a good look around. The best word to describe it was soft. From one corner to the next, the ground was lined with mattresses and cushions, a softer, more welcoming service for people after a particularly hard session. On the floors were a few beanbags for people to sit and chat if a plush bed wasn't their preference. Thankfully, there were only a couple of people in the room to one side, so the area was mostly private.

"Anywhere you like," Winter said, standing just behind Ruby, a hand on her shoulder. "Take one of the beds, they're quite comfortable."

Ruby still wasn't up for speaking. She instead just nodded, wandering slowly toward the bed on the furthest side from the couple already present. There was plenty of room. Winter and Blake joined her, sitting on either side of her and gradually leaning her backward with their hands, supporting her back all the way until she was laying down. Then they curled around both of her sides, hands rubbing in small circles on her stomach. Neither of them spoke, only giving Ruby quiet comfort.

Though it was appreciated, Ruby still said nothing. She only continued to stare at the ceiling in deep thought. In a small amount of time, a lot had happened. She had a session, had been about to have another, only to learn that she had narrowly escaped a possibly scarring experience from a cruel Dom. But the thing that bothered her the most wasn't something that either of the two women would expect.

"Am I spineless?"

Both of them began to whisper and murmur things like "No, of course not" and "You're just fine" at once, neither of them making their voices very loud. It seemed to be that this wasn't their first visit to the lounge, and they had done similar for someone before – or had it done for them. It was a very comfortable atmosphere, with or without the two there to comfort her. That was probably why they were keeping their voices down, to maintain the soothing atmosphere.

Taking that into account, she continued in a much more hushed tone, "But… Cinderella said I was. Shouldn't I have just gone with her to prove I'm not?"

"Don't think that for a minute," Winter whispered softly as Blake snuggled her face between Ruby's neck and shoulder. "A spineless sub wouldn't have resisted the plug upstairs. You wanted to go with her to see what she could do for you, and… I'd like to think you didn't because you trust me more."

"I do trust you. But…" Seemed there wasn't much hiding of it anymore. Sighing, Ruby eventually looked down up at her. "Wasn't the point of our sessions that it’s training? Working myself up to more intense sessions so I'm ready for different Doms?"

"Of course. It's my fault for not elaborating when I told you she wasn't one you wanted to 'test' yourself with; I was hoping just telling you she was less than ideal would be enough, but from your perspective…" She sighed, snuggling closer. "I'm sorry."

"Is that stuff true?" That was something she wanted to get out of the way first. The other woman didn't exactly defend herself when the accusation was brought up, nor did she accept it fully. But still, Ruby had to know in a way that wasn't biased. "If I picked some other Dom and went upstairs with them, you would have been okay with that?"

Winter looked at her in some surprise at the near-accusation. "I would have. We always discussed that you would look around for more Doms, from day one. I think we did today, in fact, didn't we?"

"Well… I mentioned about coming downstairs to look around, but…" She found herself shrugging her shoulders. This was a slightly more awkward subject with Blake keeping them company. But she had to try her best. "I wasn't gonna tell you outta nowhere because I didn't know if you'd be offended if I did look…"

Even with Blake right there, she kissed Ruby's cheek tenderly. "I'm sorry if I made you feel that way, even inadvertently. Our agreement all along has been for me to train you, get your pretty feet wet. I…" Sighing, she glanced at Blake, indecisive for a moment, then went on boldly. "Perhaps you and I were doing a lot of sessions together, and I got used to having you around. Started thinking our arrangement might continue – but I didn't mean for you to think we were exclusive, or that I would stop you from trying out other Doms. I promise!"

Finally Ruby was starting to calm down again properly. Hearing that she hadn't offended Winter was such a relief to her that she couldn't even describe. And then there was how she felt about things. Winter clearly wanted their play to keep going, and enjoyed Ruby's company. She went out of her way to protect her, something that most Doms with their arrangement might not do. And even after she went against her wishes and approached Cinderella, she was still cuddling her, still kissing her face.

If she didn't know any better… she would consider Winter perhaps felt the same as her. Unable to help herself, she finally allowed herself to nuzzle against her master's side.

"There, there," Winter whispered, kissing the top of her head as Blake automatically curled around Ruby's back. "You haven't done anything wrong. I just had to order you back to me so you'd know I was very serious, that you needed to get away from her immediately so I could have time later to explain why."

Softly sniffling, Ruby pressed her face right into Winter's neck. While the furry outfit was warm enough, the warmth from the two women wrapped around her was more comforting than anything else she could think of. If only Penny were somewhere in this cuddling mix, then she would truly be in heaven.

"Is that what she did to you?" Ruby asked quietly. "I know you said you go for male doms, but… how do you know this?"

Winter grew silent. After a moment, Blake took up the slack, her hand coming up to caress Winter's shoulder as she spoke; offering comfort to two of them at once. "Most of us subs or switches have been burned by her at some point. If Glynda's upstairs, you should talk to her; she got a lot nastier with her than she did with the rest of us."

"You too?" Ruby managed to turn slightly to ask, blinking in surprise. So this woman had quite the reputation for wreaking havoc on her subs, and Blake and Winter had managed to spare her that fate. Still looking down toward bottom of the bed, she tried to look on the more humourous side. "Out of all the people here, I have to go and pick Cinderella, huh? Typical me."

The two taller women exchanged a glance. Then Winter asked very delicately, "Did you pick her, though? Did you really?"

"Well…" Looking back up nervously again, she shrugged her shoulders. "She called 'Puppy' and I came, I guess?"

"Exactly. Cin's always on the lookout for new subs; she knows no one here is going to recommend her to a sub. So she has to keep her eyes open, find one who looks new or inexperienced."

"A classic predator," Blake breathed. "And honestly, there are worse Doms, ones who don't go by the book… she's just too emotionally detached to be trusted."

Ruby squirmed. "So she does go by the book, is what you're saying? Just she misses the aftercare part?"

"That's about right," Winter said. "So if you're a five-star sub with a dozen years of servitude under your belt, you'll probably have a great experience with her. Otherwise…"

"Otherwise you'll find yourself sobbing on her doorstep if you ever have a moment where you can't continue," Blake said. "She's fine if you tell her you need a moment alone, even though she acts like you're 'weak' for doing so. But she will leave and come back. If you need the session to stop…"

"Prepare to be kicked out of her home, or the room if you're here. She's not kind about it in the slightest."

"That's putting it lightly."

The last words didn’t come from anyone in the bed. Those three were so busy in their cuddling they hadn't noticed Glynda was stood at the end of the mattress. Now dressed in a more suitable skirt, shirt and jacket combo, she had just come out from the changing rooms. Given that her hair was still wet, she hadn't long ago gotten out of the tub.

"If you're talking about who I think you're talking about," she added.

"Queen Bitch herself," Winter sighed, nodding both left and right. "Pick a side, any side."

"I'll stick with you, Princess. Not that I dislike you, Blake; very nice outfit, by the way." Setting her bag of belongings down at the end of the bed, she climbed onto it just behind Winter. Joining in with what seemed to be becoming a cuddle pile, she allowed her hand to slide across Winter's stomach as she nuzzled up to her from behind.

But as Ruby remained in her position, still occasionally pushing up to Winter while also smiling at the closeness of Blake, she tried to look to their new addition. What sort of stories could she tell? Did she even dare ask?

"You can have a turn now, if you want," Blake prompted with a slight smile. "We weren't going into detail. Or you don't have to if you're not comfortable, Snowmane."

"Yeah, they said you got burned more than they did,” Ruby uttered. “Did she just leave you without doing aftercare?"

The nervousness in her voice was something Glynda could clearly detect. Ruby didn't want to be asking her this anymore than she particularly wanted to answer. "Cinderella is a manipulative, unfeeling sociopath who gets a kick out of seeing others suffer. Both physically and emotionally. And while some people like to be on the receiving end of that, she has no respect for boundaries. She'll keep pushing and pushing and pushing until you're forced to use whatever humiliating phrase she gives you to make it stop."

The hand that wasn't on Winter's stomach took a handful of the plush surface on top of the mattress. All the other girls could do was listen. Blake and Winter had both heard the story before, but this was all new for their youngest friend.

"If she even acknowledges you say it. Sometimes, when you're at her house, she can have very selective hearing… It can take quite a few tries at saying ‘Uncle’ before she actually realises you can't go on anymore." Looking down in shame, she took a deep breath. "It took its toll on me, I couldn't come back into this building for weeks, let alone allow myself to trust another Dom after that."

"Which is why she’s been after me to Dom her for so long," Winter whispered, reaching over her shoulder to caress Glynda's head and cheek. "I have sort of a reputation as a 'soft Dom', that I don't push enough, don't get rough enough. That's fine with me, since I prefer being a sub in the first place, but… I expect that she wanted someone like me to help her get past the fear."

"In the end, it was you that convinced me to come back, and you recommended me a few other, more reputable switches later. Now I'm more or less back to how I was - a little wiser, of course."

What was more surprising for Ruby wasn't what Glynda had gone through, as unfortunate as it was; it was how Winter had seemed to go the extra mile to get her back to herself again. This time a few years ago, she and Blake saw firsthand what Winter's own actions almost did to a member of her family, who was also a member of the queer community. But now, in direct contrast, here she was getting involved with all different people, helping them heal from the scars that others had left them. It was a truly pleasant surprise, and one that could only make her smile.

"I'd rather have someone who knows what it's like on the sub-end than someone who's purely a Dom, anyway," Ruby whispered. Winter smiled down at her, kissing her cheek tenderly. Almost affectionately. Before she could speak, however, Blake cleared her throat.

"You know… I don't think I could do anything sexual, because of my past with your sister. But if you just wanted practice being a pet, um… I could take your leash a couple of times."

Managing to turn slightly just so she could look at Blake, there was a small, yet mischievous grin on her face. "Really? Wouldn't a cat walking a dog just be like, against some kinda natural law?"

"I didn't mean today," she chuckled, smiling fondly at her. "But hey, it's up to you. Just thought I'd offer."

"Or I could walk both of you," Winter said easily, purposefully tracing her index fingertip over both of their cheeks. "Has been quite some time since I've been in charge of more than one sub at once. Which, I know, defeats the purpose of you finding new Doms; just sounds like potential fun."

Yet again Ruby's cheeks were lighting up. There was the possibility of a threesome now? She didn't know how, if at all, she could handle that. Rather than give a straight answer, she instead nuzzled her head forward into Winter's neck, groaning in embarrassment.

"That is true," Blake said in a reasonable tone of voice, as if they were discussing the weather. "I said I wouldn't be too comfortable banging Ruby, not that we couldn't both be banged by the same person…"

Winter kissed Ruby's cheek again, very lovingly and sweet, even as she said, "Strap-on for her, my tongue for you… could be interesting. I do enjoy the occasional pussy."

Against Winter, Ruby could easily be heard chuckling faintly. It wasn't until Winter leant in to listen she could hear Ruby mumbling, "You're giving Yang a run for her money with that pun."

#Lady Stardust #ruby x winter #rwby smut #rwby fanfiction #rwbyremnants #nsfw-Text

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kiruuuuu · 5 years

Text

Thank you so much @bdiduk2003, both for your compliments and the request :) I’m always happy to see your name pop up 💞 Even though I shifted the focus a little, I hope you enjoy this piece in which:

Mute’s Halloween outfit overstays its welcome and Smoke demonstrates what a good dad he is. (Rating M, some sexual elements + heaps of fluff, ~3.5k words) - Thanks a lot also to @i-dnt-know-either for allowing me to reference your wonderful Halloween fic!! 💙💙💙 It’s not required but highly recommended to read it first.

“I really should’ve gotten you some heels”, Smoke drawls, still lazily palming the not uninterested dick right next to his face.

“Want me to moan an octave higher, too? Because I’m not sure I actually can. Might sound like a cat dying.” Mute continues to struggle with getting that blasted dress over his head, wondering how he managed the previous evening. Not having been hungover must’ve helped. It’s early morning now, darkness lurking outside the windows still. They’ve only gotten about three hours of sleep in total, and those not even as a whole but scattered in between frotting and petting and more making out. Smoke had mentioned picking up Charlie after breakfast, and so they decided in favour of staying up the entire night before crashing completely as opposed to waking up like zombies. As a result, Mute’s crotch is sore and so are his nipples and all the bruises on his neck from Smoke acting like a vampire, and still his boyfriend is insatiable.

“Babe, you could yodel for all I care, I’d still fuck you.”

“Is that a challenge?” Finally, Mute manages to pull the playboy bunny outfit back on – Smoke requested a reprise of last night and if it helps tire him out, Mute is more than willing to dress up once more. Even so, his partner is more interested in playing with his half-hard cock peeking out between the lace instead of marvelling at how good he looks. Mute has to admit, the piece of clothing does flatter his physique.

“That depends entirely on whether you can actually yodel or not. Do we have any fishnets?”

Mute rolls his eyes but spreads his legs when questing fingers nudge them apart, already preparing for round number… he’s not even sure, actually, lost count somewhere along the way. “Are you sure you can go again? Or will this end in half an hour of aimless humping?”

The only reply he gets is a bright smile and a finger pushed inside, at which point he stops caring and gets into position to guide the tip of his cock into Smoke’s mouth, partly for the actual stimulation and mostly to shut him up. A tired, hungover Smoke is a Smoke full of bad ideas, and maybe this way he can prevent at least some of them slipping out.

A ringing stops both of them in their tracks. They exchange a meaningful glance.

Unimpressed, the sound continues.

“You should probably get that”, Mute sighs and withdraws all body parts from inside other body parts so Smoke’s hands are free to accept the call. Whoever thinks it appropriate to disturb anyone at this hour, the morning after Halloween, should be shot.

“Is she alright?”, Smoke suddenly blurts out, voice full of worry, and Mute’s stomach drops instantly, all annoyance forgotten and replaced with mild panic. This sounds serious and he doesn’t breathe until Smoke slumps in relief. “Okay. Then what else – really? Where? Gotcha. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Mute likes absolutely nothing of what he’s just heard. “Charlie?”, he guesses and earns a nod.

“She, uh, got picked up by a sergeant, Driscoll. Sounds like local police.”

Pardon him? “She what.”

“Something about trespassing – I don’t know, and I don’t care. All I know is that we’re picking her up now.” Smoke is already halfway out the door, pulling on jeans and disregarding his lack of underwear. “Come on!”

“I actually know that guy”, Mute provides helpfully and rises as well, begins gathering clothes. “If she really has broken some laws, he’ll let it slide. He likes me.”

“You’re a godsend, babe. Now get rid of that costume and let’s go.”

Sure, no problem. All Mute has to do is take it off again and replace it with reasonable human clothes. No biggie. Piece of cake. After all, he wants to look presentable when facing any kind of law enforcement, and wants to set a good example for Charlie, and doesn’t want to appear like a cheap hooker Smoke dragged along. Easy.

Easy peasy.

“James.” The slight panic in his voice has his lover shift his attention back to him. “The fucking thing is stuck. I can’t get it off.”

They stare at each other across the messy bedroom.

“You can wear your coat?”, comes the weak suggestion and while it’s a good one, Mute shakes his head.

“Gave it to Manu the other day. She hasn’t returned it yet.”

“Put on jeans?”

“The bloody lace won’t fit.”

Another silence. Smoke is radiating impatience and Mute vaguely understands, he’s also worried about Charlie having gotten into trouble, about her hanging out with the wrong crowd and having made choices she might regret later. He knows how important she is to Smoke. Is aware of how important she is to him.

A minute later, he’s sitting in the car next to Smoke, boxer briefs peeking out from under the scandalously short dress and struggling with a hoodie he grabbed on his way out, all the while having to listen to Smoke trying to sugarcoat the situation: “Look, if you hide the top, you can pretend you just forgot to put trousers on or that you’re going as, uh -”

“The zip’s broken”, Mute sighs in defeat and demonstrates that the zip is, indeed, broken. So no hiding any part of the dress, except for the back. Wonderful. Great. Just what he needed. “Just forget about it. She’s seen you in worse.”

“She’s seen me in socks with sandals, true, but she’s not seen you in a dress like this. In a come-stained dress. I’m not making this any better, am I?”

“You might wanna stop talking, yes.” From what he knows, Charlie went out with friends to a Halloween party and was meant to sleep over at one of their places – Smoke seemed familiar with the name, so it’s surprising they ended up at the police station. Charlie is picky and, while drawn to troublemakers, she sticks with the sensible ones. The ones who know how to blow up the chemistry lab and yet refrain from doing so. She really takes after her dad in a lot of ways.

It’s not until they’ve actually stepped inside the building that Mute considers what they must look like: him in a very short dress, sneakers without socks, a sliver of bright orange boxers visible under voluminous lace with suspicious stains, a ratty red hoodie finishing the whole ensemble, and then Smoke looking like a homeless person, with the two of them undoubtedly smelling like one as well. At least they washed their hands. Well, Mute did. He doesn’t actually remember whether -

And then he notices the three teens gaping at them in shock. One of them is Charlie, the other two are siblings Mute has met once or twice before, the girl having attended the same elementary school as Smoke’s daughter and the boy only being one year older. And all of them are dumbstruck.

At least they seem to be alright, that’s something. Sighing, Mute turns to the perplexed-looking police officer apparently in charge of the three kids and greets him with a nod. Maybe if he pretends everything is normal, he won’t have to justify himself. “Sergeant.”

Recognition flashes on the man’s face. “Wait – I know you! What was your name again?”

“Mark Chandar. Pleasure seeing you again, Mr Driscoll.”

“Of course! What a coincidence.” They shake hands, the other man now beaming. Mute knows him from his days in Cambridge, was close friends with his daughter and hopefully left a lasting good impression on her dad. “Apologies for not recognising you right away, the, uh, ears threw me off.”

Fuck. He’s still wearing them? Well, taking them off now would only draw more attention to it – except that the teens’ eyes have unanimously shifted upwards to stare at his long bunny ears.

“What are you up to these days, Mark?”

He didn’t come here for friendly conversation, in any case. “Losing bets”, he replies defeatedly and watches as Charlie’s aghast expression tilts over into unbridled mirth.

To his relief, Smoke draws their attention back to the matter at hand: “I’m Charlotte’s father. So what happened?”

“Oh, yes. We received a call from a local farmer about teenagers trespassing in one of his fields and lighting a small bonfire. When we arrived, we only encountered these three next to said field. As it was very early in the morning and quite far away from… anything, really, we brought them back here and contacted you.”

Smoke furrows his brows in displeasure and Mute mirrors him – setting fire to things isn’t one of Charlie’s hobbies and neither is trespassing. She’s a model student where her marks are concerned, even if her classroom behaviour sometimes leaves things to be desired, but overall her rebellious phase has involved dyeing her hair, listening to wild music, cooking all the spicy food Smoke can’t stomach and drinking a few mixed beers here and there. It could be a lot worse.

“It wasn’t us”, Charlie chimes in, now serious again. “Gavin was driving us home and he wanted to keep the party going somewhere random, we even tried telling him that it was a bad idea but he wouldn’t listen. We didn’t climb the fence with them and waited by the road, but they must’ve bailed without us.”

“So you had nothing to do with the fire and didn’t even trespass?”, Smoke clarifies, to which his daughter and the other two teens simply nod. The two siblings seem to intimidated to lie, and this version fits more with what Mute expected, so he turns back to Driscoll.

“In that case you can let them off with a warning, right?”

The sergeant fixes the three with a grave look clearly meant to deter them from any future trouble, but he nods. “Yes, I suppose I can. Maybe you should choose your friends more carefully. Can you drive the other two home as well?”

“Sure.”

And just so his reputation isn’t permanently tarnished, Mute makes some more polite conversation while Smoke herds the teens outside into the car. Their relief is palpable, none of them acquainted with ending up at a police station, and therefore they’re grateful to be rescued. Driscoll threatened to call the siblings’ parents regardless, so they might face some more stern words, but Charlie is her usual relaxed self now.

Well, she should be. She’s chewing on her lip, however, and avoiding Smoke’s gaze in the rear-vision mirror.

“Was this seriously your Halloween costume this year, Mark?”, she blurts out as soon as he’s joined them in the car.

He responds with a weary sigh. “I should know better than to keep betting against your dad by now.”

“Who’s that?”, the girl sitting next to Charlie wants to know quietly.

“Mark? He’s my second dad.” And Mute would be lying if he claimed his heart didn’t skip a beat at that. They took some time warming up to each other, but when she invited him on a concert and he let her have a few sips of his beer, their friendship was sealed. He has trouble viewing her as a daughter since they’re barely ten years apart, but whatever it is that binds them together, they’ve reached mutual respect and understanding. “And apparently trying to get on next month’s Playboy cover. Mark, this is Roisin and this is Niall.”

“I told you we should’ve insisted on costumes”, Roisin continues in a stage whisper, “imagine Gavin in that. Or, even better, Mike. Oh my God, Mike in heels.”

“Why does everyone keep going on about heels?”, Mute wonders out loud and prompts an embarrassed giggle from Charlie’s friend, but Smoke isn’t laughing. All he does is drive through the English countryside, eyes on the road, mouth shut. He’s listening, though. And Mute gets the feeling he’s missing something.

Behind him, the three teens joke around some more, with Niall getting more and more boisterous as time passes and Roisin giggling endlessly – he’s not sure why they’re friends, but Charlie seems to like them, so he leaves them to it. They recount their own party from the previous night and gossip until Smoke stops the vehicle, pointing with his chin.

“Thanks, Mr Porter!”, Roisin hurries to say, with her brother echoing her less enthusiastically, and then both of them hug Charlie before jumping out and racing up the stairs. Probably hoping their parents are neither awake nor have received a phone call from Driscoll yet.

On the back seat, Charlie is back to chewing on her lip.

“Did you set anything on fire that wasn’t meant to be?”, Smoke asks, turning around to examine his daughter closely. And wait.

She just shakes her head, apparently expecting the questioning. “No. Of course not. I was careful, I built a proper pit for it and all.”

Wait. Mute looks back and forth between them.

“Did you remove all traces afterwards?”

“Yes, dad. Please. I’m not an idiot.”

“Why did you go into the field in the first place?”

It’s the first time Charlie actually looks embarrassed. “To stargaze. But then Niall said I couldn’t actually make a fire without a lighter, so I had to prove him wrong.”

“And it was only you three involved?”

“Yeah. We asked to be dropped off there. It was just us.”

“Anything else you have to say?”

She nods, sounding earnest. “Sorry for worrying you. And thanks for picking us up.” When Smoke remains quiet, she adds: “Thanks for getting us off the hook, Mark.”

He continues to be flabbergasted by the exchange – Charlie is not in the habit of lying, but looking back, he begins to understand: she doesn’t lie to Smoke. Everyone outside is fair game. He supposes this is what they call paternal instinct – he would’ve believed her everything. “No problem, Charl. I love making a complete fool of myself in front of casual acquaintances.”

This seems to break the ice, and the two Porters let out a laugh along with a breath they’ve been holding. “You look fantastic”, Charlie lies smoothly. “But why are you still wearing it?”

“That reminds me, we don’t have anything for breakfast”, Smoke announces brightly, inconspiciously changing the topic. “We should go shopping.”

And Mute just groans.

On the way through the parking lot, Charlie is back to being her bubbly self now that she knows Smoke isn’t mad at her, laughing unselfconsciously at most jokes and giving a rundown of her Halloween while Smoke feeds her bits and pieces of their own. Mute mentions Blitz’ collar and Charlie is both intrigued and scandalised, and when the topic shifts to Jäger’s cat ears, her eyes light up in a very familiar way. Seems like Mute already knows what he’ll get her for Christmas. They pass by a few leftovers from the past night, a handful of costumed drunken blokes swaying in place and holding a contest for the loudest burp.

Just as they’re walking past them, the wannabe-Jack-Sparrow who indubitably glanced at Mute’s attire yells for everybody to hear: “Ewww, a homo!”

Without missing a beat – and before anyone can even react –, Charlie replies loudly: “Ewww, heteros!”

Mute swallows a grin. He can’t encourage her because Smoke has been trying to teach his daughter the non-confrontational approach in a ‘do as I say, not as I do’ way, and all her dad does is walk a little faster now, gently pulling her with him. It’s not that they couldn’t beat these guys to a pulp. It’s not that Smoke wouldn’t normally make a huge display or ridicule arseholes like this. This is purely about didactics.

“The fuck did you call us, brat?”, roars severely underweight Batman whose fake abs hang on his thin frame sadly.

“I’m sorry you missed out on so much necessary education”, Charlie shoots back, cheeks reddening in anger, and then Smoke guides her through the sliding doors into the Tesco’s. “Wow, those idiots are dumb. They don’t even know what hetero means, that’s ridiculous, they thought it was an insult or something, how can you -”

“Charlie.” Smoke stops, regarding her calmly and waiting until she deflates.

“I know, dad. Pick my battles. But I get so bloody annoyed at guys like them. Bloody Niall is almost as bad, you didn’t see his face when I introduced Mark. Tosser.” Smoke is still looking at her, a fond smile on his lips which only grows when she rolls her eyes and stomps off. “Walk away, I know. Not worth my time and efforts, I won’t change their minds anyway, no need to force a confrontation, blah blah. I know.”

Mute’s heart continues melting when Smoke just laughs and captures his daughter in a hug to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Now all you gotta do is translate your knowledge into actions, sweetie. And Niall is someone whose opinion you can influence – you’re friends with him after all. Those lads outside? Worthless. They won’t listen.”

“I guess.” She doesn’t seem appeased but at least she’s not stewing anymore. While they scour the aisles for the unhealthiest breakfast they can find (Smoke insisted on a full English), she turns to Mute, curious. “Did you have to deal with crap like that a lot?”

“I won’t lie, outfits like this increase the frequency drastically.” She snorts yet seems to understand it’s a topic on which he’d rather not elaborate – in time, she’s become adept at reading him and leaving him alone if he’s slightly uncomfortable. It’s just one of the many reasons why he likes her so much.

If he’s honest, he’s on Charlie’s side, but fully understands where Smoke is coming from: she’s a teenager and while she’s capable of defending herself, a bunch of drunken men is too much for her to take on. Despite her tough attitude, she hasn’t developed a skin thick enough to not let hateful comments get to her either, and Smoke would rather she get angry than be riddled with self-doubts.

Regardless. If it was for Mute, he’d at the very least have given them a show for free. Just out of spite. Spite is a great motivator.

“You go get the eggs, we’ll fetch some toast”, Smoke suddenly decides and directs Charlie to the back of the store while dragging Mute with him to the front, ignoring his weak protests.

“We have more than enough toast”, Mute gets out just before he’s dragged past the bread aisle and pressed against the glass front, warm lips capturing his and a tongue pushing its way inside his mouth immediately. He’s always ready to make out with his boyfriend, no matter how little sleep they’ve gotten, no matter whether his dress is riding up and clearly exposing Smoke groping his arse, no matter whether anyone can see them, but this comes a little unexpected.

Then he understands. Anyone can see them. And so he starts kissing back with the appropriate enthusiasm.

Both of them are grinning when they separate, and maybe they’re overdoing it a little with Mute slapping Smoke’s arse so loudly it actually echoes and Smoke blowing the stupefied blokes outside a kiss, but neither of them care.

“You’re the most hypocritical dad I know”, Mute mutters as they hurry back to reduce suspicion, “and somehow she still turned out fine.”

“And you are the second best dad I know.”

“After yourself?” Smoke wordlessly beams at him. “Of course after yourself. Why did I even ask.”

By the time they’re leaving, the drunkards have disappeared and Charlie seems to have forgotten all about them anyway, bragging about how she managed to win a bet against Niall about how many marshmallows they could fit in their mouths. As Smoke is returning their cart and leaves them to put their groceries in the car, Mute can’t help but reference the earlier topic: “Be prepared if you actually want to confront him about his views, Charl. He might not take it well.”

“Oh I kinda expect him to go mental. But that’s okay. I’ll just date his sister.” And a wink conveys that this is meant to be a secret between the two of them, for now.

Mute just shakes his head. He could’ve met Charlie on her own, without ever knowing who she is, and he would’ve guessed her to be related to Smoke in some way. Like father, like daughter.

Not that he’s complaining. In fact, he’s looking forward to making breakfast with his two favourite people in the world. He’d just… prefer to get changed beforehand.

#rainbow six siege #smoke #mute #smoke/mute #charlie #fanfic #oneshot #request #look you can't give me a smoke/mute request and not expect me to run with it #this got a lot longer than I anticipated #charlie is my queen all hail charlie

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