#then. then dear god how he must STINK
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as funny as the wen ning falling apart stuff might be for some people, personally it Stresses Me Out because -- excuse the comparison, mr ghost general sir -- when something keeps on breaking, at some point it’s just wiser to replace it rather than keep on fixing it. wn isn’t made of metal or some other sturdy material that you might just, idk, use glue on; he’s more like a bag prone to tearing, and yes, for a while you can mend the tears and even reinforce them, but if the bag generates new holes every time you carry something heavier than a small book, it’s! not a good bag! time to throw this one out and buy a sturdier one!
and i mean, a fic like that would be interesting! although rather painful for everyone involved, i suppose. but i really prefer the cql (?) version (the “technically they’re not dead” thing aside) where they’re super strong and fast and the “corpse” part is basically being pale
#kinda like vampires one might say#because like.... if wen ning is constantly losing limbs or can just shrug off a hole in his fucking torso and just stuff it with straw nbd#then. then dear god how he must STINK#i guess it's been established that low-level fierce corpses stink but. if zombie things are happening to a body then they're happening!#so like. thanks cql#also for xxc's corpse perfectly preserved after like. eight years? i realized too late that it must have been xy preserving it#but like. who's gonna argue with me when i say cultivators' bodies decompose MUCH slower than normal people's. no one. i'm right#(this + i'm not hardcore enough for corpsefuckening with all the uhhh benefits of a corpse. sorry)#forgive this one it is half past 3am#shrimp thoughts
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Lookism Chapter 442 Memes/Thoughts I Have:
(SPOILERS !!! I don’t own any of the Lookism panels and the translations. Only the memes that I made. The sole purpose of this is to provide summaries/reviews for each chapter so if you don’t want to see the rest of it, then just keep scrolling. It’s your choice.)
Time to cry all of our hearts out. 😫
Nuuuuuuuuuu poor babies 😭
OMGGGGG THE FIRST GEN. KINGS ARE HERE!!!!! AHHHHHHHH BRO I GOT MAD GOOSEBUMPS 😩
Ugh, this is making me feel touched and all. Everyone gathered in one place because they really respected him. Bruh, Imma cry again 😭😭😭 I hope Taesoo Ma, Gongseop Ji, and the rest of the First Generation would somehow investigate his death and avenge Jichang. 🙏🏽
YEEEEESSSSS DANIEL HAS ANOTHER ALLY!!!!! YESSSSS LET'S BUILD THIS CHARLES CHOI HATECLUB!!! 🔥
OHHHHHH. MYYYYYYY. GOOOOOOOD. JAKE IS SO FREAKING CUUUUUUUUUUUTE AS A LITTLE KID!!!!! AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH GOD, I JUST WANNA HUG HIM AND CRADLE HIM IN MY ARMSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!! 😩😩😩❤️❤️❤️❤️
HE REALLY IS CUTE THO WHEN HE WAS LITTLE. WHO WOULDN'T WANNA JUST GRAB HIS CHEEKS, PINCH THEM, GIVE HIM A PIGGYBACK RIDE, AND HUG HIM AND SQUEEZE HIM????? 🥺🥺💞💞💞💞
Ohhhh shiiiii, Jake gonna meet with Daniel there and THEY'RE GOING TO TEAM UP AND FIND JINYOUNG PARK AND TAKE DOWN THE FIRST AFFILIATE LIKE THE ACTUAL BOSSES THAT THEY ARE. 😎
Ohhhhh my- LINEMAN ABOUT TO GET AN UPGRADE!!!! IS THIS GOING TO BE HIS TRAINING ARC??? 👀
AYYYYYYYYYYYYY LETS GOOOOOOOOOO!!!! TIME TO TRAIN LINEMAN!!! BULK UP AND SHAPE UP BRO 💪🏽💪🏽💪🏽💪🏽
Oh shit... 5th Affiliate. 💀 Did I mention that I don't like this phase of Eli? I mean, sure. You're doing this all for your family in Hostel, but there's another way to settle this and provide for them, no? I mean, you got friends bro. You don't have to shoulder the burden on your own. Learn how to depend and rely on those who you hold dear too.
King, it's ok. Just undrown yourself and stop siding with Workers.. 😀
I stg, this twink of a crew leader is afraid of Daniel Park. Little did he know, Daniel and James Lee are actually a team lol. I swear, it's like Eugene blames Daniel for everything now that Daniel tried to interfere with his plans. Mf would now blame him for everything and anything that doesn't work out.
Mandeok: *suddenly walks into Eugene's office* Eugene, the coffee maker isn't working anymo-
Eugene: IT'S HIS FAULT! IT'S ALL DANIEL PARK'S FAULT!!! HE ERADICATED SOME OF MY AFFILIATES, AND NOW HE'S AFTER MY COFFEE MACHINE?!
Yuseong: *starts to rock back and forth in his chair, cradling himself while afraid of his brother's psycho outburst*
Come on stink, get it together. You're going coo coo now. I don't know why I thought of Eugene in this scenario. It was funny in my head.
Oh great. NOW, THEY'RE THERE. 🙄
WHO'S GOING 100 MPH ON THE MAIN STREET BRUH??? Also, who tf are YOU mf? 🤨
Also, omg. PTJ, do you always ctrl + c and ctrl + v on your characters' hairstyles or something? Because Warren doesn't look like Zack anymore, but now he looks like-
Like ok, I get it. You're addicted to the copy + paste hairstyles, but I don't wanna have to do this, but... Imma hand over the scissors to Eli and have him end the ctrl + c, ctrl + v era. 😭 Bc, wth is this shit? But they look good tho, ngl.
OHHH NAH NAH NAH NAHHHHHHHH. SOMEONE TAKE HIM BACK, FR. GOO, COME GET YOUR BRO LMAAAAOOOOOO. But oml. EVERYONE'S GOING TO BE AT THE FIRST AFFILIATE, I STG. THEY ALL GOING TO HAVE AN EPIC BATTLE LIKE SMASH BROS. OR SOMETHING, AND THEY'LL GO AT IT, IN ON FINAL BRAWL. And fr Warren, wth have they been feeding Logan for him to get THAT BIG? STEROIDS???
If he took, "I need a big boy" to heart, then I don't want it. 💀💀💀
Nah, it must be all that coke protein powder. Goo gave him a whole bucket of protein powder and Logan would be sniffing and eating it all.
Well, obviously "No." Logan. Also, HOT DOC IS BACK!!! Ofc he is. He's the main star of the First Affiliate.
THERE HE ISSSSSSS, THE MAIN MAN OF THE HOUR!!! 😩 LOOK AT HIM BEING ALL TOUCHY WITH ELI!!! Tbh I didn't know how to feel ab that. "Put these away, motherfucker." YTFJTYFGUYKGFJYGUHKIFUDFKILLUGYKF I'M LMFAOOOOOOOOOO ELI REALLY DOESN'T GIVE A SHIT ANYMORE. HE'S SO DONE.
What did he mean by "I'm not sure though?" 😀 Also, the way Logan said, "How cute is this bastard... Should I give you a kiss?" and Warren replying with, "I'm taken, so no thanks." MAN, WHAT IF YOU WEREN'T TAKEN? THEN WHAT? 🤨 ALSO, THE WAY HE SAID HE'S "taken" NOW BC HE HAS SALLYAHSIDFHSDFIUSHDFIUW. AAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH THAT GOT ME SCREAMING.
AWWWWWW MAAAAAAAAN, I wOnDeR wHo CoUlD tHaT bE ??? Definitely, not Daniel Park.
OH MY GOD. ARE WE FR GETTING A LOGAN LEE VS. DANIEL PARK SHOWDOWN NEXT CHAPTER???? AYOOOOO??? HE'S GOING TO SEE DANIEL'S CURRENT FORM????????? AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH I'M SQUEALINGGGG!!! 😆😆😆😆
"Will Logan Lee face off with Daniel Park soon? Will they ever find Jinyoung Park now? Who will be the next to arrive at the First Affiliate??? Tune in, next time ONNNN-"
Yeah man, F this.
#lookism#lookismaddict#lookism 442#lookism webtoon#lookism manhwa#lookism spoilers#lookism spoiler#lookism memes#lookism meme#kwak jibeom#kwak jihan#kwak jichang#taesoo ma#gongseop ji#seokdu wang#daniel park#park hyungseok#choi beongae#jake kim#kim gimyeong#big deal lineman#lookism eugene#eli jang#warren chae#mandeok bang#lookism yuseong#logan lee#baek hangyul
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@greeksorceress, @handsome-wise-strong
A little Jacelaena viking/seer thing:
She has foreseen his arrival in her dreams, each night for the past three nights. She heard the destruction he and his men had wrought beyond the safety of her chambers. She knows of the pile of household guard that lay barricaded against her door, struck down.
She does not search for a weapon, she merely clings to fistfuls of her skirts to keep her hands from trembling.
The door opens and she lowers her gaze, studies the blood spattered state of his boots as he strides into her rooms. He bears an axe on one hip, a shortsword in his hand, more crimson than iron.
There is a steady drip, drip, drip upon the floors.
Briefly, she thinks of her husband, she ponders if he yet draws breath.
She looks back at her nephews shoes.
He sheathes the sword within a scabbard upon his hip.
His steps are soft, measured, wrapped in doe hide and blood.
“Has he taken your tongue?” He asks, voice hoarse, deeper than the boy she recalled from her memories and more lasting than any dream.
He, she thinks, Aegon.
Helaena shakes her head, briefly raised lilac eyes toward her nephew, to his square jaw and bearded face.
He tilts his head, the motion is boyish and coy, bits of dark hair fallen loose from numerous plaits.
“If it is wealth you are after-“
“I have taken your wealth, dear aunt,” her stomach twists, her grip upon her skirts tightens.
“You must know I am not here for wealth alone.”
Heat throbs in her cheeks, hisses against the cold that billows in from the open door.
Her eyes find his and warmth burgeons in her belly, pulses hot.
“I am in want of a seer” and a woman, the words are unsaid, but she feels their enormity in the prickle of his dark stare.
“You are heathen, nephew,” she says, the words are more her mother’s than her own and they usher forth a laugh from him.
“Because I do not believe in the seven? Because I revere our true gods?”
She averts his gaze.
“Tell me, dear aunt, have you seen this day?”
For three nights.
Her grip curls painfully tight and she avoids his gaze.
“Then you are heathen as well.”
Then we are heathen together. A bastard and a witch.
She bites her tongue. That is how they would be seen, as nothing more than blasphemers. She blinks back the tears gathering in her eyes and finds a weathered hand outstretched before her, colored from the sun and thickened with calluses.
“Come with me,” he says and her heart leaps, how long had she longed to hear such words. For three nights.
She does not object, nor does she weep as she is taken from her home - she gasps when her fine slippers meet the snow, the air is brisk and stinks of iron and waste. Yet all she can do is smile, her hand in his.
A heavy fur mantle is removed and draped around her shoulders, it smells of blood and him.
“Helaena!”
Aegon howls upon the snow, upon his knees and surrounded by jeering filthy northmen.
Jacaerys guides her gently forward.
“Shall we kill him, lord?” One his men asks, a seax pressed readily to Aegon’s throat, swiftly silencing his cries.
Her fingers flex in Jacaerys’ grasp.
“Bind him,” he orders, before grabbing a fistful of Aegon’s hair, “we shall bleed the silver from you and your wretched kin.” With a shove he releases Aegon.
Helaena flinches, clinging to Jacaerys side when his men erupt in raucous cheers at the talk of ransom.
“And the princess, lord?” Another northmen asks.
She had never seen beyond the span of her chambers, beyond the hand outstretched, her throat tightens.
Lilac eyes find his, dark with the touch of amethyst in torchlight.
“Nephew-“
“The princess…stays with me!”
She shudders against him, nails catching upon the leather scale of his armor.
His breath beats warm against her chin.
“I shall have your head, bastard!”
Helaena flinches.
Jace’s hand squeezes gently around hers.
“Gag him and bind him.”
She is led away, on cold snow in warm hands. A horse awaits, and Jacaerys lifts her effortless upon its back before joining her.
They ride for some time before reaching his hall. The hearth is alive and mulled wine is served alongside their supper.
When he takes her, it is gently upon furs, inspiring pleasure so great she had wept, crying out his name.
They laid upon the furs, his body warm atop hers, hair loose. Her fingers threaded through dark curls. His mouth meanders over her breasts, like a hungry child. She giggles against the back of her hand.
“Jacaerys,” she calls, his head lolls softly, tongue flicking over a nipple as he hums in affirmation.
Her thighs press together.
“Thank you.”
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Leverage Ep 11 >:3
Pre-game thoughts:
ngl the last episode was a lot of fun! got to see Nate at his breaking point, Sophie being the best (as always), ALEC AND ELIOT DUO!!!!!
also it looks like this one focuses on Parker? (at least, that’s what the blurb says 🤷🏻♀️) so praying for more moments for my ot3 🥰 either as duos or altogether, I do not care. just want them to have screen time
anyway, can’t really think of anything else to add???
I mean, this is the last episode before the 2-parter finale, so I’m curious if this will touch on…..the ✨insurance company✨and that uh Crowley-looking dude (unrelated to GO!Crowley, a show I should also watch)
BUT ENOUGH ABOUT THAT ON WITH THE SHOW ✨
Reaction:
ooooooh a flashback 👀
Ok that was not a safe dose
AHHHHHH THE STOVE
NOOOOOOOOO ERNESTO
is he dead?????
oooooooooh team drama 👀
lmaooooo parents (Nate/Sophie) using jury duty as a lesson
“Yeah, I know jury duty, this seems legit” <- has only gone once
OooooOOOoooooOoOooh defendant is wearing colored shades, he must be an asshole 😂
WAIT WHAT
WHO IS FILMING THE CASE???? IS THAT LEGAL????
babe, please step the fuck away from the jury panel. i would not be in favor of you anyways with you standing so close wtf
oop! she knows!!! fuck they’re gonna strike her out
ok but seriously who are those camera people???? are they even a real legal team???? the ick is strong, I hope they burn this other team to the ground
YES PARKER
CONVINCE THEM
SHUT NATE YOU WERE A SLIMY INSURANCE MAN BEFORE YOU DONT GET TO TALK
everybody giving Nate the stink eye, yesssssssssss
(You would think, with how much I yell at this man, I hate him, but tis the opposite! Love him. He’s just an asshole, and I would never like him in person, great character <3)
OMFG ALEC BACKSTORY??????
YES PLEASE
NANA YOU BADASS
ELIOT AND PARKER DUOOOOOO
FUCK YES
Lmao he took the beer
literally before clicking play I was like “you know, I don’t think Parker and Eliot have been a duo yet” AND HERE WE GO
ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE
nO glasses guy 🫢 was a faker?! <- is not shocked
jfc Alec is good 😍
ok what you doing Parker? oh wait nvm
Chess???? lmao you nerd
“Hmmmm how do we show an evil character is smart…..I KNOW! Chess!”
ohhhhhh big pharma ok (can’t believe it took me this long)
WAIT WE DOING POISONED APPLE
ugh no we’re not
oh shit bribery????
ELIOT PLAYS CHESS???? you fucking nerd 💕
lmao Parker gets a lesson in social interaction (I’m so sorry, girlie, I’d hate it too, but tbh I also befriended an older lady while at jury duty so same????)
it’s ok Parker you tried your best 🫂
“I have a peanut allergy” <- love you Alec
Nate, I sure hope you don’t regret that honeypot plan
OHHHHHHHHH oh dear ok now the brownface comments make sense
Ok show’s age has been shown
jfc Sophie wtf please tell me this is the only episode where this happened
“I’m very spiritual” <- 🤢 god how many times have I heard this
Jesus H Christ I can’t even look at her T^T
awwwww Sophie is helping Parker
ELIOT YOU ARE SO CUTE
HES TRYING
PARKER YOU CUTIE 🥰
i want Parker and the grandma to be friends. Like best friends
lmaooooooo she’s foreman now (I don’t think I spelled that right)
girlie, you sound like you’re giving the old man a job interview 😂
SHE GONNA BUY OUT THE LAWYER????
He won’t
Nate noooooooooo
ALEC
YES
MY BOY
HE LOOKS SO GOOD IN A SUIT
but also shit they are treading the legality there (<- she says even tho they do this every episode)
“Do you trust your government, Ms. Vargas?” ALEC 😂😂😂😂 bringing back the old teachings of being a Jehova Witness i see
WE ARE BARELY HALFWAY?????? (Sorry just looked at the time stamp what do you mean it’s only been 20 minutes????)
“is that a high school yearbook?” oh my god
Alec, babe, love you, but what
ALEC I LOVE YOU
girlie you could say cauliflower steak
Awwwwwwwwwwww Parker has a friend 🤧🤧🤧🤧
Alec’s headshot is beautiful
“It all checks out unless [says an example of exactly what Alec did]”
Ooooooh outsource mention 👀
Nate there are cameras!!!!
“You know why they say, ‘Justice has a blindfold’? Because Justice is asleep” FUCKING DEAD
ok bro this isn’t jury duty anymore this is a trial???? did I miss the part where they finished jury selection
OH SO HE’S AN ACTOR???
lmaooooo he was Scottish
Awwwwwwwww Parker 🥺 “she likes rainy days” im fucking sobbing
Ok now that’s why we were only halfway
“We win the trial” LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOO
Hehe Alec has to actually win the trial
“You think lawyers aren’t just pretending and trying to fill in daddy’s shoes” ok, uh, wow 💔
SHE GOT A BAG LUNCH 🥺🤧
Eliot on another parents trip!!!
wait who is he fighting???? Oh ok
Nate, you look so fucking dumb 😂
*gasp* THAT MEDICAL MAN IS LYING FIGHT HIM ALEC
oh ho ho! bringing up his qualifications I see 👀 why he now only doing cases in Cali 👀
OH HO 👀
HE BROUGHT UP BIN LADEN 👀
GET HIS ASS ALEC! FUCK HIM UP!!! FUCK! HIM! UP!
Alex’s closing statement 👀 omg 🥺 yes babe 🤧 beautiful 💐 take my flowers 💐💐💐💐💐
jfc I’m nervous!!!! I know this will end happy but still!!!! So nervous 🫠
nooooo, she must not figure out 🫠
Oh dear,
OH YES THEY TURNED OFF THE TV WONDERFUL
lol yesssss girlie, burn that fucking bridge!!!! BURN THE BRIDGE!!!! DIG THAT HOLE!!!!
unrelated but her jacket is super pretty
ok ok here we go. fuck I’m nervous
YESSSSS LETS GO BITCH
FUCK YEAH MESS WITH THEIR CAMERA
why are you revealing yourself to her????? bro she could find people to get you!!!!
OMG SHE MADE A FRIEND! GET THAT COFFEE
Final Thoughts:
this episode was so much fun!!!! we may not have gotten much of the Parker/Eliot duo but I’m still happy that they got to tag-team! Parker learning how to socialize, be a team player, and lead was just 👌👌👌👌👌👌 wonderful so proud of her T^T Alec was amazing (obviously) and fucking killed both for stalling the case and winning it <3
not as much Nate/Sophie moments besides them acting like parents to their teammates and being a well-oiled machine 😎 so I’m still satisfied! a little disappointed that there wasn’t any hint for the finale but that might just be because of the messed up order again 😔
overall: wonderful episode, this might be my favorite of the season (tho Miracle Job still has my heart)
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Little Shadowcat Chapter 1
Daeron Targaryen x Cerelle Lannister
Warnings: None this a pretty fluffy chapter. Some spying, mention of murder.
Notes: Cerelle only communicates through sign language and gestures.
(8 years ago)
Tyland Lannister wandered through the lush gardens of Casterly Rock, searching for his little niece, Cerelle. He was informed by the septa that the triplets, Jaissa, Elissa, and Marissa had been teasing Cerelle once again. Cerelle was an easy target for their mocking because she was born deaf.
Tyland was visiting Casterly Rock for Cerelle’s sixth name day. It was nice to get away fron King's Landing and its purtrid stink, to get some fresh air for once. Though, he couldn’t stay away for long. Based on what he had heard, Lady Laena Valyrion's funeral was a complete and utter catastrophe. In short, Prince Aemond had tamed the great beast Vhagar. However, he later had his eye gouged out by one of Princess Rhaenyra’s bastards. The Queen in turn attempted to kill the Princess, and somehow it ended with Lord Laenor dead and the Princess married to her uncle, Prince Daemon.
Oh Gods, how Tyland wished he could have been there to witness all of the melodrama unfold in person. He found it amusing that House Targaryen was tearing itself apart from within, and civil war seemed inevitable, plunging the realm into chaos. With chaos came opportunity, and now that the Greens had Vhagar on their side, Tyland knew whom to bet on.
After searching for some time, he finally found Cerelle hiding up a tall tree, her big emerald eyes were puffy from crying. She didn't hear him approach, so he shook the tree to get her attention. She noticed the quaking leaves and looked down.
"Cerelle, dear. Can I come up?" Tyland knew sign language, having learned for her. Something, that even her own parents did not bother to do.
She nodded and signed, "Please."
With practiced ease, Tyland climbed up the tree to reach Cerelle, as he had done many times before. As he approached her, he could see tears streaming down her face, and her expensive dress was dirtied from the climbing. Her once-stylish golden hair now resembled frizzy cat ears, adding to her disheveled appearance as she sniveled helplessly.
"What's wrong, little one?" he asked her.
"They teased me again," she signed back, her fingers trembling. "Marissa thinks my voice is weird.”
With a deep sigh, Tyland thought about Johanna's insistence on Cerelle taking speaking lessons with their Maester. He understood how hard it must be for her to learn to pronounce words that she could not hear. It was moments like this that made him empathize with Cerelle, who he knew was an outsider even within her own family. They were like shadowcats among the lions, always watching and waiting. Tyland reached out to tuck a loose lock of Cerelle's hair behind her ear, a small gesture of understanding between two kindred spirits.
"I know it's hard, Cerelle. But your deafness is a gift," he signed to her. Cerelle looked at him, confusion etched on her face.
“How so?” She asked. “I am a cripple.”
“You cannot hear people's lies, and you can see them for what they truly are."
"I do not understand," she signed back. Tyland took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain.
"People always say one thing but mean another, they hide their true intentions," he signed. "But you can see the truth in their actions and in their eyes. You can see the world as it truly is." Cerelle looked at him, her eyes wide with understanding. Tyland knew that he had gotten through to her. He wiped away her tears with his thumb and smiled at her.
"Now, let us go inside, it is time for supper and I am sure all that crying made you famished.” he signed to her. She nodded in agreement.
Once they climbed down the tree together, he took her little hand in his. As they made their way back into the Rock, Cerelle tugged on his sleeve to get his attention.
"Uncle," she signed, "Can I have a dragon for my name day?" Cerelle had been enamored with dragons since her Maester had first told her about them. She believed that with a dragon of her own, no one would ever dare tease her again. They wouldn't be able to look down on her if she was soaring high above them on her dragon. Tyland chuckled softly.
"My dear, a Lannister can afford anything in this world except for a dragon. Only a person who posses Valyrian blood can ride a dragon." Tyland saw the disappointment in her eyes and quickly added, "But, what about a pet cat instead? They can be just as fierce and loyal as any dragon, and I promise it will be the best cat in all of Westeros."
Cerelle's face lit up as she eagerly signed, "Yes, please!"
Her beaming smile warmed Tyland’s black heart. Perhaps, that was because a part of him hoped that by bringing joy to his lonely niece’s life, he could redeem himself in a way.
(8 years later in Kingslanding)
Cerelle crouched on the rooftop, peering down at the bustling streets of Fleebottom. She had been following the movements of one of the White Worm’s servants for hours now, hoping to gather information that could prove useful to her uncle. Ser Whiskers, her cat and faithful companion, sat next to her cleaning himself.
Cerelle had to be disguised whenever she went out on these assignments. No one could know that Tyland Lannister’s little niece was prowling the streets of Kingslanding. Her suit was practical and prioritized stealth.She wore flat shoes and fingerless gloves to maintain tactile sensation, while her slim-fitting black pants were crafted from a flexible material to maximize mobility. The top and bottom of the ensemble was a charcoal grey. Cerelle opted not to wear excessive armor that would impede her mobility, but she did wear metal poleyns on her knees and small pauldrons that resembled a lion’s visage. She concealed her face by wearing a mask. Finally, She donned a pitch black hooded cloak adorned with shadow cat fur on the shoulders and frayed at the hem, creating an impression that she was partly comprised of darkness whilst wearing it.
Cerelle had a repeating crossbow slung over her back and two daggers with flamberge blades secured to her waist. Additionally, she had a pouch of arrows with poisoned tips.
As she watched, the servant stopped in front of a rundown tavern and spoke briefly with two men. One was skinny as a rail with a long rodent-like nose. The other one was huge, he looked as if he could easily break elephant bone. She recognized them, although for the life of her, she could not remember their names. She knew the skinny one had once worked as a rat catcher for the Red Keep; she used to see him work in the Keep's tunnels. The big man was once a member of the City Watch. She remembered sitting in the ladies' gallery, watching him get stripped of his rank of Sergeant of the City Watch by the Hand. From what her uncle told her, it was because he beat a girl to death with his bare fists. Cerelle took out her spyglass to get a better look and read their lips.
“2 million gold dragons or we’re not doin it” The big one said.
“We agreed to 500,000.” The servant replied.
“500,000 isn’t shit!” The skinny one sneered. “Not for what she want us to do!”
“The Mistress will not be pleased,”
“Fuck the White Worm! You can tell that bitch if she wants a royal de-”
Suddenly, a piercing roar split the air, and Cerelle noticed smallfolk scrambling off the streets in terror. She flinched as she felt the strong wind of something swooping overhead. Ser Whiskers leaped into her arms, shaking. Looking up, she saw a massive blue dragon soaring in the sky. Its wings were a dark cobalt, while its claws, crest, and belly scales were the color of bright beaten copper. Atop the dragon, she saw a boy – a Targaryen, she figured by his looks– but she had never seen this boy or dragon before. She watched as the dragon flew off to the Dragonpit.
After a couple of moments she turned back her attention to the streets, the servant and thugs were no where in sight. Cerelle mentally cursed as she surveyed the area for any sign of were they might of went. It was no use. She wished she could have witnessed the rest of their conversation but from what she gathered, it was not hard for Cerelle to assume that the White Worm wanted someone dead, but surely she wasn’t stupid enough to target someone in the royal family? After all, Mysaria had been Otto Hightower's informant for years – it just didn't add up. And yet, in a city like King's Landing, where the number of liars and cheats far outweighed the number of rats, maybe it made perfect sense after all.
Cerelle suspected that the target of any assassination would be Prince Aemond Targaryen, who had become a kinslayer after the events at Storm's End - a grave offense in Westeros that carried no forgiveness. The mere thought of the word "kinslayer" left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she could not deny that she had no room to judge.
With Ser Whiskers trailing behind her, Cerelle gracefully descended from the rooftop and headed back to the Keep. She had plenty to report, but for now, all she wanted was a hot bath and a good meal to wash away the stench of the gutters. Her mind was consumed with the image of the boy riding the dragon as she walked, replaying it over and over again. Questions of his identity swirled around in her head, until a distant memory surfaced. Uncle had once mentioned a third son of the late King Visarys. Suddenly, everything clicked, the lost Prince Daeron Targaryen had finally returned home. Cerelle quickened her pace towards the castle.
Oh Gods, this should be interesting...
#daeron targaryen#daeron the daring#cerelle lannister#aemond targaryen#aegon ii targaryen#tyland lannister#team green#my oc#daeron x cerelle
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Angel or whatever it is that you are Mr.Fell,
He's a drunk mess. Yells at people, stinks alcohol all the time. Hope this message finds you. Maggie is worried sick.
Look, just get back here and fix your mess.
Also young girl is miserable without any guidance.
Get. Back. Here.
-Nina
Dear Nina,
I'm sending this letter in secrecy, I hope it finds you my dear.
How I wish to help... how i wish to be there... you have no idea...
From the bottom of all my essence, humanly speaking, from the bottom of my heart, you must know that i care...
I care too much Nina. I'm afraid of discorporating because I care so deeply. For him. For you. For the Earth.
I must remain here to protect you. To protect him. From... That i can't say.
I know I don't deserve it, but you must trust me.
Tell Crowley... Tell Crowley that i know. I know that he knows as well. He must know because there's no other. No one and nothing else.
When my mission is done, I will leave the halo and wings and I will come. As Aziraphale and nothing else.
Please tell him that.
Please keep safe.
Thank you... for looking after him, Muriel and the bookshop.
Send my love to Maggie.
Try not to reach me again.
/Heaven shall always watch over us all./
God bless you.
#aziraphale#good omens#ask blog#ineffable#q&a time#ask aziraphale#supreme archangel aziraphale#go aziraphale#crowley#nina
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Loved Her First Chapter 83
AO3
Jamie and Claire stood in front of the Willow Tree where Brianna and her baby were buried.
Jamie gently laid the flowers down in front of the carved Cross that Murtagh had made for the graves.
When Lizzie had protested that surely Brianna did not deserve a Cross, that her soul had gone to Hell, Murtagh had given the lass such a fierce look she had drawn back in fear.
“Brianna’s soul was pure. Her grief is what took her from us ye ken. God orders us to hate the sin, and love the sinner. And if the Almighty himself can love her and allow her into Heaven, we shall honor that.” Murtagh said firmly.
No more had been said about that, though Lizzie did look contrite later.
Claire wrapped her arm around Jamie’s waist, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
She had worried that Jamie would pull away from the twins due to Brianna’s death, but if anything, he had pulled closer to Caelan and Ainslie, he hardly let the babies from his side.
He rested his head on top of Claire’s dark hair.
“I worry after Faith; she seems to be taking this so hard.” Claire said softly.
“I ken, but she has Ian to lean on, she will be alright.”
“I hope so.”
The pair went silent as they prayed over their Daughter and Granddaughter’s graves.
Ian sighed softly as he walked into the small cabin carrying a bucket of water.
Once again, Faith was sitting in a Rocking Chair, staring out the cut window. She had not really been doing much of anything since Brianna had left them.
Oh she tended to the babies, made sure they were well fed and clean. But herself, she was not tending to. She had not bathed in the weeks since Brianna had died, she was hardly eating, just enough to keep her milk flowing.
She was slowly disappearing before him.
Or so she thought, Ian had had enough.
He poured the bucket of water into the tin tub and turned to his Wife.
She barely glanced at her Husband as he moved toward her.
She hardly flinched when he lifted her into his arms.
She screamed when he dumped her unceremoniously into the water.
“Ian! What are you doing?”
“Scrubbing you. My Wife stinks to high Heaven, I canna have that.”
She glared at him as he grabbed the soap bar and rubbed it across her arm.
“YOUR wife? You talk about me as if I am your property!”
“Aye, in the eyes of the law, ye are. MY property, under MY ownership; no more than a Coo or a Horse. And like all property, I canna have you looking sae terrible, what would the neighbors say?”
She glared at him and took a swing at him. He grabbed her wrist and used the opportunity to loosen her laces to rub the soap across her chest and armpits.
“How DARE you treat me like this!”
“Well how else am I supposed to treat you? You dinna care about yourself, so I clearly must, and thus I must be nothing more than a Master tending to his Livestock.”
Tears filled her eyes and her lips trembled even as she glared.
“You don’t understand at all!”
“That’s where you’re wrong, I DO understand. Do you think you are the only one to lose someone near and dear? Has lost a sibling? It may be a rarity In your time my darling Faith, but here, it’s a miracle if everyone makes it. And it hurts, but would Brianna want you to succumb to the pain?”
Faith shook her head as tears fell down her cheeks.
“N-No she wouldn’t.”
“Of course she no would! Jeremiah is going to need us; Fin is going to need us. We canna be islands unto ourselves, we must rally together.”
She nods and wraps her arms around her Husband, holding on for dear life.
“I love you Ian.”
“I love you too, Faith.
While Faith was having her impromptu bath, Jeremiah was making his way to where Jamie was working on a fence.
He cleared his throat once he arrived, and Jamie turned to look at him.
“Jeremiah, how do you fare?”
“Alright my Lord Fraser. Fin is missing his Mam very much.”
“I imagine you are missing your Wife just as much.”
“Aye sir.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I um wish to tell ye that you can have your land back.”
Jamie stared at the young man in shock.
“And why would I do that?”
“Because my living on the land was contingent on being married to Brianna and s-she is gone.”
“And you would think that I would just toss my son in law and wee grandson off the land?”
Jeremiah swallowed hard and nodded.
“Do you take me for a fool Jeremiah?”
“No sir.”
“Then why would you take me as someone so foolish to do such a thing?”
“I-”
“You will remain on this land and clear it, per our agreement. Claire and I will help you tend to Fin, as will Faith and Ian when she feels a bit better.”
Jeremiah swallowed as Jamie placed his hands on the lad’s shoulders.
“You were the man my daughter loved above all else. You may be a blithering idiot at times, but she saw your worth. I do as well.
Jeremiah sniffled and Jamie hugged him tight, the two men grieving together.
That night, Jamie stepped into his cabin to see Ian sitting with Claire, writing in the Family Bible.
Jamie’s heart dropped. “Ian? Is it Faith?”
Ian looked up at his Uncle and shook his head with a smile.
“She had a bath, ate some soup, and is sleeping. I finally got her to see reason. Took a little force, but here we are.”
Jamie smiled and sat down. “I am glad, is she alright.”
Ian nodded. “It will take a bit to heal, but I think we are on the other side now. I have sent for my friend Aksel; I met him at University, as did Jeremiah. I think it would be beneficial for Jeremiah as he and Aksel got very close there. I hope that’s alright, Aksel can live on my and Faith’s land.”
Jamie shook his head. “There is plenty of room on the Ridge for everyone. We will sort it out when he comes; IF he comes.”
“I am sure he will.”
Ian visited a bit longer and then handed the Bible to Jamie.
“You should read this Uncle, it might help you a bit.”
Confused, Jamie opened the Bible as the door shut behind Ian.
Written on the first page, under Births were the words:
Born to Faith and Ian Murray:
Grace Elizabeth Murray
Mercy Brianna Murray
Hope Jasmine Murray
Jamie touched the words gently and sobbed for joy and pain.
#my writing#outlander fanfic#omgbarbiegurl's and i's#chapter 83#jamie and claire#cannon divergence#outlander fandom
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A poem by Dick Davis
A Translator's Nightmare
I think it must have been in Limbo where,
As Dante says, the better poets share
Old friendships, rivalries, once famous fights
And, now they've left it, set the world to rights.
As I was being hustled through in transit
To God knows what damned hole, I thought I'd chance it
And chat to some of the assembled great ones
Who looked as bored as trapped theatre patrons
Who've paid good cash and find they hate the show . . .
I picked on one; "I rather doubt you know . . . "
He started up and peered at me: "Know you,
You snivelling fool? Know you? Of course I do!
You ruined my best poem. Look who's here . . ."
He turned to his companions with a sneer,
"Traducer and destroyer of our art,
The biggest stink since Beelzebub's last fart".
They jostled round, each shouting out his curses,
"You buried me with your insipid verses . . ."
"You left out my best metaphor, you moron . . ."
"You missed my meaning or they set no store on
An accurate rendition where you come from".
"He comes from where they send the deaf and dumb from,
He got my metre wrong . . ." "He missed my rhymes",
"He missed puns I don't know how many times
Then shoved his own in . . . " But I turned and fled
Afraid that in a moment I'd be dead
A second time, torn limb from spectral limb.
A mist came down and I was lost: a dim
Shape beckoned; thinking it must be my guide
I ran for reassurance to his side.
But it was someone I'd not seen before,
An old man bent beside the crumbling shore
Of Lethe's stream. He stared a long time, then
"Did you translate?" I screamed,"Oh not again,"
But as I backed off one quick claw reached out;
He clutched my coat, and with a piercing shout
(He didn't look as though he had it in him)
Cried, "We've a guest! Who'll be the first to skin him?"
Then added, "Just my joke now; stay awhile,
The crowd in these parts is quite versatile
Though we've one thing in common, all of us;
When you were curious, and courteous,
Enough to translate poems from our tongue
All of us gathered here were not among
The chosen ones". I looked around – a crowd
Now hemmed us in and from it soon a loud
Discordant murmur rose: "Please, why not mine?"
"You did Z's poems, my stuff's just as fine . . ."
"The greatest critics have admired my verse . . ."
"You worked on crap that's infinitely worse
Than my worst lines". "Some of my stuff's quite good –
You will allow that? – It's not all dead wood?
Why then . . ?" and slowly the reproaches turned
To begging, bragging, angry tears that burned
Their way into my sorry soul.
Once more
I ran and saw my guide, tall on the shore
– The other shore – of Lethe. "Rescue me!"
I called, "Get me to where I have to be
For all eternity . . ." He smiled; "My dear,
You've reached your special hell. It's here. It's here".
Dick Davis
Listen to Dick Davis read his poem.
Image: Gustave Doré - Dante Alighieri - Inferno - Plate 65
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TASK 04: PLAYLIST.
listen to the full playlist here.
FAWN - CRYWOLF. in a flash the wicked won. oh the moment seemed so, moments seemed to clear i'll rest your weary head beside my own. i will take these clothes and cover you my dear. god bless your soul, he has not blessed mine. / till you’re lonely and forlorn with all your oaths. you’re my heart, my rain, my poison, my fawn.
JOLT - UNLIKE PLUTO. and some will take the high road, i will go low. there's nothing left behind me, set fire to it all. the fury will fade and the images too. a world without you, that's what i need to do.
MOTH - DUA SALEH. i’m just getting settled in the den. making my amends with the devil in the ends. / i swear that i’m the man in the tower. i got a lawn chair to watch the bloom of the hours. you got a moncler. i wear the stink of the flowers. you got them big ben butterflies spring to devour.
I DO WHAT I WANT - MISSIO. i wish i could party like i used to when i was young. now i like to party by myself, i swear it's just as fun. / living the cocaine lifestyle is overrated. this isn't mexico, it's reality. and all of you party people don't get your feelings hurt. i'm incapable of being how you want me.
THE GUN - LORN. old wars, bad dreams. starlights must lead where they lay. new scars, dumb genes. my lady loves looking down at me. new name, no meaning. still looking for the same old feeling.
THROUGH THE VALLEY - SHAWN JAMES. i walk through the valley of the shadow of death. and i'll fear no evil because i'm blind to it all. and my mind and my gun, they comfort me. because i know i'll kill my enemies when they come. / still, i walk beside the still waters, and they restore my soul. but i can't walk on the path of the right because i'm wrong.
INTRO (CREATURES OF HABIT) - GRETA ISAAC. however, if the spawn of a habit is mistreated.. guided by a trembling weak mind. the habit can inflame, and control of your very own desire can soon become out of control. the swelling of this dark defect can transform said habit into a disposition. an addiction. a sickness. a venomous enemy. / i'm caught in the same old ways. same old chain. don't want it.
BELLYACHE - BILLIE EILISH. my friends aren't far. in the back of my car lay their bodies. / my v is for vendetta. thought that i'd feel better. but now i got a bellyache. / the way i wear my noose like a necklace. i wanna make 'em scared. like i could be anywhere.
KEROSENE - CRYSTAL CASTLES. light of god dimming weak. nothing's wrong go back to sleep. lost the will at infancy. / i'll protect you from all the things i've seen. and i'll clean your wounds. rinse them with saline.
AFFECTION - CRYSTAL CASTLES. catch a moth, hold it in my hand. crush it casually. without past i can't disappoint. my ancestry.
LOVELY - BILLIE EILISH FT. KHALID. thought i found a way. thought i found a way out. but you never go away. so i guess i gotta stay now. / oh, i hope some day i'll make it out of here. even if it takes all night or a hundred years. need a place to hide, but i can't find one near. wanna feel alive, outside i can't fight my fear.
PATIENCE - LOW ROAR. sick of losing my patience. out of time, lacking rhythm. barely conscious, oversensitized. feeling weaker as i stumble around.
OUTLAWS - AU/RA. running out the door aiming for the waist down. pulling up the car, boy we're on the run now. had to wide the roads, light the fuse and stand back. all our hopes and dreams stuffed into this backpack. / see our faces on the posters by the roadside. we were the wanted ones long before the ink dried. we'll be fugitives, running from the mundane. you and i were just born to live in this way.
MINUS SIXTY ONE - WOODKID. minus sixty-one. have i every really loved someone? do i deserve what i've got? now the grid system's turned into traps. and the fear's switching sides. i own a million dollars worth of stock. but i still don't sleep at night. what is it that i've become?
19:00 - DANGER FT. TASHA THE AMAZON. wheels spinnin' on my way outta town, way outta town. they gon' look for me, look for me, i don't wanna be found. / they call me lost, maybe i'm lost, or maybe i'm finally found.
SILVER SCREEN - JONNY T FT. FOREIGN FIGURES. being me, i got to say is gourmet. maybe 'cause i just robbed the bank, ah. why do you still think that i'm charming? just here to crash another party. this tux is feelin' kinda starchy. but i like it. / i come on the silver screen. in a high-speed car chase scene. i could get away, but i love the chase, man. everyone's after me.
BLOODLINE - NORTHLANE FT. HEALTH. i can't escape you. no matter how far i run. i can't erase you. from who i've become. memories coursing through my veins. like the scars in yours, my roots remain. / i was raised in hell. i made it out by myself. i was raised to bleed.
WE ARE WHO WE ARE - MISSIO. it's not unusual to feel a little lonely. but sometimes loneliness can lead to better things. it's not unusual to feel a little guilty when sometimes guiltiness can show you a little more. why do we try to live a lie? it isn't worth it. who you tryna please? 'cause if it's me, it isn't working. we are who we are. that can be hard to accept. we are who we are. there's no reason to regret. we are who we are. life can be a punch to the chest. we are who we are. that can be hard to accept. you don't need to worry 'bout a thing. we are all fucked up human beings.
UGLY FRIENDS - POOLFIRE. i've made amends with my ugly friends. hard to pretend i like to be around them. and sometimes i want to take my fist and throw it through the wall. i know who my friends are and i don't like them at all. behind a beautiful smile all i'm thinking about is myself. when i'm with my friends i'd rather be somewhere else. / i can't feel anything anymore. not anything and i suck the blood from the dirt. wear it in my teeth. look me in my eyes. i-
OFF THE EDGE - HELLOVE FT. ZACK GRAY. i’m drowned in fears. i know i owe you one right into the sea of julia. i color my heart for you and set the walls on fire. now i've fallen into the same lies and i loath it. and i hope that i don't fold, i know. there's nothing here. and i’m holding on to what i lost. i know that. / working down my feelings just to say that i’m sorry. caught up in a maze of all the things that are not me. i buried my faults from you. i let the old grow tired. and i’ve already put my faith in how you saw fit.
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Deliciousmile~! ...hey wait a sec, that doesn't seem right. Well, y'know, what's a festival without food, eh? And, well, this is a very special watch for us today, y'know why? Why, because today is Inoue-sensei's birthday, of course~!
I don't exactly know how best to celebrate, but I do want to congratulate him for keeping Donbrothers as a non-stop banger of a season. Perhaps not the best we've ever had, but certainly not one I'd ever forget.
Now, enough delay! As they say in that other town with a Toei superhero team unified by a common theme, food brings smiles~! And it's the dog cooking, you know this'll be great~!
-Sonoshi will be back.
-Fancy eatin'...
-Flavoooooor!
-...are you some kinda circuit board?
-Oh dear god, she vores.
-Inoue what the fuck
-Have you been spending too much time on the internet again?
-Yeah, the Juto forest is... absolutely horrific, I don't blame Tsubasa for wanting out.
-"...can I go now? I wanna wash all this forest stink off of me."
-Freedoooooooom.
-Nice weather :)
-Dog go nyoom!
-There he is.
-Inuzuka-san!
-Oh hi Kijino.
-Are... you alright?
-"Okay I know I sold you out, but like... wanna go eat at a fancy restaurant with my wife?"
-"What the fuck, no."
-Tsubasa, this man who snitched on you is married to a doll and your first instinct is to hug him?
-Oh hey Rumi-chan! Jirou-kun!
-Byeeeeeee
-"My cringefail boyfriend is too pure to be alive."
-Dinner!
-Gotta say, big missed opportunity to have a ton of Hoka-Hoka Hearts everywhere.
-"Y-you can have her man, Jesus Christ calm down."
-Oh hey, the cat came back.
-I gotta ask Tiger Jirou, are you perhaps a Juuto in some way?
-Keep things professional with your editors, folks.
-Oh yeah, Sononi did shoot you down lmao
-Sorry Shinichi, she's got a point there
-Jesus Christ, we couldn't have ONE peaceful dinner, could we!
-Shaddap!
-That chef is about to kill a man.
-Ohhhh...
-Tsubasa, jkh,hlbl
-Shef Off
-"Wow! This reminds me of my imaginary food that I eat because money burns my skin off!"
-Hello food critic lady!
-Iida-sensei, okay!
-A cooking contest!
-Damn, a hundred million yen isn't even enough for this restaurant, huh?
-No wonder Tsubasa got all uppity.
-What is he cookin'?
-Tsubasa what the fuck why is the fugitive gene a thing
-Deliciousmile~!
-Pipipi~!
-"Good, but not award winning" is the highest praise I've ever heard Tarou give any food.
-Ingredient
-Mop those floors, Tsuyoshi!
-Retrieve Egg
-The remaining
-SONOI WHAT
-"Give me those fucking eggs. Sonoshi ate all my spare like the fucking gremlin they are, and I can't send someone to the store. Sonoza scares the cashier too much, and if you ask a condor-themed woman for eggs, she gives you a very strange look."
-I love this.
-Yeah good job fellas!
-A field of flowers~!
-Damn Haruka, you really drew that background in five seconds, huh?
-Oh god here she comes
-SHE ATE MY DOG
-What the fuck, Vore Dimension?
-Oh?
-OH FUCK
-Tsubasa, you don't just eat fruit you find in a random forest dimension!
-"Murasame! Let's cut them into sashimi!"
-Fruit~!
-Back off, everybody!
-Seiya Seiya!
-Nooooo, Murasame! Pick him up, Sonoza!
-Oh, good, we're not eating Helheim fruit. Good.
-OVERFLOWING?
-OH SHIT
-Recolor!
-"YOU ASSHOLES, I HAVE AN OMELET ON THE STOVE, IT'S GONNA BURN THE KITCHEN DOOOOOOOOOOWN-!"
-Wow, Tarou really said "A gold bird does the job just fine, unlike you Kijino."
-Poor Murasame.
-"Good job buddy."
-Fooooood~!
-Blue pasta!
-Iida-sensei's imagination is a good bit more professional, huh?
-Awwwww, Sonoi... :)
-Oh?
-Have a snacc, Tarou-san
-jklhkilh;k'
-Holy shit, Tarou
-Holy shit, Rumi's cooking must cure every disease ever if it's that good!
-M
-Miho-san.
-CRANE LADY????
-WHAAAAAAT
-WHY YOU BACK
-DONKILLER JKHLHJ'
-My god.
-Does this "button" just have an "Evil" setting you can press with all the sensitivity of a space bar?
-Oh well, this episode is either going to be peak comedy or absolutely horrifying. Or both. No in-betweens allowed here.
-Alright, let's pack it up folks, episode's done! We're done talkin' for today! Happy birthday again, Inoue-sensei!
#donbrothers spoilers#avataro sentai donbrothers#donbrothers#super sentai#don! don! it's a full force peachy festival!
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TEA AND CRACKERS
PRAYER AT ‘ROCK AND ROLL BLUES’
Some of us are dead.
Some of us still breathing.
There is sun in the air
But it stinks of bad Karma
I wanted it to be easier
I thought I found my words
I have lost almost everything
And I carry this wound in my heart.
It’s bleeding out and crying
There is nothing I can do
I’m getting them cold scars
On my feet and hands
Of heavy chains and plenty of insanity
This is it. Here I am.
A question mark underneath
Blue skies and a sun full of teeth.
It’s sun outside and bathing
I’ve been living in a cube for a long time
It’s full of joy
Small and pretty to react
But drowning in the smell of numbness
A chemical disaster
I never seem to overcome
Dear reality,
Have you lost faith?
Or are you trying to play a game?
Are you still breathing?
This is for me
So I know where my feet stand
I have been poisoned
It’s all pointless,
It’s a never ending paradise
All the wounds are in my heart
So much on my heart
And mediocrity
I’d give to her all I have
I’d take her anywhere
I’ll love her until the day I die.
Forgive my words if it’s too much
Forgive me.
JUST US...
I think I fell in love
With a shadow, a whisper in my hair
So delightful like the wind swinging it by.
My skin turns pale with chills
Like honey shredded guitar sounds.
Butterflies move slow
The sun?...Always above Atlantis
Time slows down
I watch them
With half opened lips to guess
Their next restless choice of journey.
I look ahead
Tall grass is spoiling itself in the wind
Passing on the silent vow
Te crown of mystery
It’s spinning above it
Such privilege to wear it.
And then I sit and wonder
How much of a mistery
My own life is
Such privilege to wear it.
I think I fell in love
It was not a ghost
It was just me...
RIDDLE
Man has
One foot stuck in the seeds
One foot clubbing on by animals
A body full of industrial strength.
An arm up in the blue sky
And one falling towards the ground.
A head of constant dualism
A perfect engine with
‘Multiple personality disorder’
APPLY HERE...
It’s said that everything has a reason
A reason for being.
As if the whole life
Is one big Ex-terorist
Full of vacant jobs
So are flowers, animals
The sun, the water, air and fire
The sound that travels
Through the Vrancea
Down skipperul roads.
The smell of fresh food
You lay hungry eyes upon.
Everything gathers and grows
Magnificenței CV’s
Pages full o delight
God must be a busy person
But, no doubt, he’s not too bored.
What about us people?
So highly complex, complicated and willingful.
What reason do we have to be hired
In the world’s biggest, most profitable enterprise?
Some say it’s creativity.
Others say it’s innovation
Might as well be...mathematics.
But we’re forever kind of lost
And thirsty for it work.
It’s just sometimes
When the hammer misses the nail
And falls on a finger...
When excitement grabs a flower by it’s thorns
And bleeds hot red...
That we, people, start to find
A shimmer of meaning...
Shy and surprised...
Never more empty.
It measures it’s height
When it comes to everything
Nature makes him feel small
But he dreams itself big
Because we should be
Living like Giants.
NIHILISM
I wish to write about ‘the ugly’
I wish to write about it all.
Moths, black cats, vampires and butterflies
Women with masks and painted faces
The skeleton man in expensive black suits
I wish to take that person out of myself
I need to let her know:
The beauty in things
Shines through with contrast
Not Annihilation.
The cradle of the light between the oceans
Lies inside the chaos.
Any shortcuts?
WHAT WAS GOING ON WITH ME...
I thought we had more time.
Some measure time in quantity.
Some measure time in quality.
I like to weigh them both.
What I don’t like...
Is being in a hurry
Or blabbing all around.
Especially hate the people
The people eating time instead of food
Like it would all belong to them.
Like they’re immortal.
I’ve been forced to vent it
In ways I never thought possible
I have complicated my life so much
That it finally looked simple.
Sorry for taking your time,
Would be appropriate.
WORDS FROM MYSELF TO MYSELF
I’m giving myself the words
To describe the beauty I see in you.
It’s been mesmerizing me
I have been blind with one eye
Until I saw you
I wanted to embrace your light
I wanted to embrace you.
But time drags itself along
With it’s black wings
And fiery burning eyes.
Behind it stays
On all the black alleys
A perfume of sadness and
The smell of your memory.
Forever alive.
Forever to be...
Thank you for embracing me
When I cannot...
Thank you for carrying my soul
To higher peaks
While the earth stays
There... All quiet...
All the same.
COUNT BESSIE
The never ending industry
The machine keeps turning it’s wheels
It feeds the pigs, the cows, the chickens
It gives them medicine and ticks them back to bed.
It waters all the crops and all the plants
Slivers then to hungry people.
It’s mouths won’t stop shouting
Don’t be in it’s way, be an observer...
And the threat will easy go by
With the confirmation of a tired eye.
It welcomes people at work
In and less high skyscrapers
Where only the wildest dreams are being born
...In secret.
The gain is, turn as many wheels
As you can produce
To this initial construction
Beautifully functional and absolutely restless.
It’s children, warriors, spies and builders
All have gave birth to ‘culture’
Something that doesn’t need wheels to work.
More secrets. Smile.
Most loyal ones, are most privileged
Big cold homes
Tiled floors and walls
‘Simplicity of luxury’
Books on some shelfs...
Colors not to bright
But balconies of freedom.
Crows are singing in the autumn
If they can reach the height...
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I did the thing. Based on this writing prompt!
.
.
What am I, you ask?
It was a question I, too asked myself, once upon a time. I ask it no longer, because I don’t much see the reason in dwelling upon questions which have no definitive answers.
I can tell you what others think I am. Will that satisfy your curiosity?
An aged deity they call me. A minor one, of course. For they know I never laid claim to the vast domains of the Great Gods. War, Knowledge, Death are all grand pursuits, but they are not to my tastes.
Besides, I would never claim anything so specific. To those who live in the village beneath my humble temple, I am the warmth of a tended hearth, the safety of home - and the joy of returning to it.
It is a quiet village, you know. And I know my people by look and by voice. They take turns climbing the steep hill to tend my temple.
I settled here for a reason.
Did you notice my temple? It’s nice, is it not? Wooden, round, and short enough that the adults must bend to enter. Inside, two rows of candles illuminate walls lined with dangling shells dug from deep within the earth. Shelves are stacked with pebbles, feathers, twigs, and flowers. Gifts from my followers and requests I planted in the minds of my most devout.
At the center of it all, bathed in the candles’ butter yellow light sits a gleaming stone. It is opalescent and a pretty enough sight to behold. It was recovered generations ago, a layer or two beneath the dug-up shells.
The humans believe that I reside in the Everstone. That’s what they call it. Everstone. It’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?
I don’t. Live in the Everstone, that is. I don’t believe I live anywhere in particular.
Occasionally I sit in the stone, just for fun. I warm it sometimes when my followers’ reverent fingers brush the grooves. I like the sound of their surprise and delight. Other times I perch upon the temple’s roof, and drink up light from the first and second sun. And on rare instances, I expend the energy to make myself just corporeal enough to walk upon the hillside and feel the grass between my toes. I only allow my most favorite devotees to see me like this. It is strange and awkward to have limbs and take up space. I only do it because the sensation of touch is so entirely captivating.
Those who glimpse my walking form see someone who looks human in the same way that a painting of an ocean resembles the cold, untamable tides. I take up space, and within that space is the suggestion of personhood. They see a figure draped and hooded in ethereal white, brown skinned and with a face whose features are vague and changing. Human faces fascinate me, and I cannot always make up my mind about the features I want for my own. I-
Why would you interrupt me?
Did you not trudge your ugly boots up this steep hill to seek me out? And if you’ve come, as you say, from lands afar - why would you not want to make conversation?
...Could it be that it is not me you seek, but the one who, even now, lies crumpled and half dead upon my temple floor?
That is the truth of it. I can see it in your terrible war-bright eyes. You are no more human than the one who bleeds ichor on my nice wooden planks.
No. No. Don’t go lifting your ugly spiked weapon just yet. I’m not done talking. I can’t talk with the humans. At least, not like this. And the god currently bleeding in my temple wasn’t much able to make conversation.
He staggered up the hillside not an hour before you arrived. He had taken far more care in the crafting of his physical form than I, and I’d guessed right away that he was one of the visible gods. Likely in possession of both power and desire enough to parade himself about for his followers. To drape his body, wrapped in opulent cloth, across the velvet couch upon his temple dais.
Yes, I made the last part up. I don’t know that he liked to drape himself across couches like a subject waiting to be painted, but with his raven black hair, muscles sculpted by an undoubtedly delicate hand, and a pretty face which did not shift like mine was wont to do, he fit the part well enough.
His fine clothes were ripped and bloody when he staggered up my hillside. And his hair, which looked to have once been drawn back in a sleek braid, was mostly dragged loose, falling in wisps and tangles. His pretty face was cut and broken, and when he pressed a shaking hand upon my wooden walls, he left a smear of ichor, brutal and golden beneath the suns.
“Sanctuary,” he murmured, and his voice was cracked and broken as the rest of him.
I could have barred my door. He might have once been powerful, but it had been cruelly beaten out of him by something.
You, I presume.
No. Enough with the weapon waving. I said I was talking.
I let him in. Don’t ask me why. Maybe stripped of his power, he reminded me of my village devotees. Or maybe I just didn’t want his divinely made flesh to stink up my lawn.
He stumbled in as soon as I opened the door, and immediately collapsed, one hand clutching what was surely a severe wound in his side. If he was as human as he appeared, I’m sure he would have died.
No, he’s not dead.
It was touch-and-go for a while. But, as I’m sure you know, gods are not so easy to kill.
I helped him, pouring some of my own energy into his form. It was like feeding oxygen to a faltering flame. As I worked, he lay limp as a doll, lips half pressed to my wooden floor as his voice rasped, filling the room.
His people call him Praesaro. He told me of how you killed a great number of them, cutting a path so you might reach him. His tears of saltwater and gold dampened the temple floor as he spoke, and where they slipped between the slats of wood, wild clovers sprouted from the soil. His throat was dry and grief-wrung, but I did not need to hear him to feel his overwhelming, aching loss. He’d seen his followers cut down, all while he, their glorious protector, was powerless to stop you.
You smile. Does pain amuse you?
I see. It is not just any pain you seek, but a god’s pain. You cared not for the city you slew, did you? You only wanted the god who protected it. So are you the God Devourer of which the wind has been whispering of late?
I hear conflicting tales of you. The wind says that you came from the skies - or perhaps the heavens. The rocks deep within the earth say that you are not of this world. And the oceans say you smell of strange waters. But all of them are in agreement on this point: You come to consume. And you will not leave until your boundless appetite has feasted upon this world.
And now you do lift that monstrously spiked weapon. You intend to destroy my temple and crush the last of the divine life from poor Praesaro - I can see it in the set of your jaw, the way you bare those sharpened teeth.
You intend to devour me too. In my little temple on this little hill, I probably seem nothing more than a snack to you. But before you unhinge your salivating jaw, dear god eater, let me ask you this:
Do you know why I remain here, on this little hill, above this little village?
It is because I like it here.
Do you feel that? The way the earth trembles beneath your bloodied boots? Or perhaps you’ve noticed the wind and how it nips at your skin. And what about the clouds that darken, bearing down upon my little temple on this single, lonely hill.
I was not entirely honest when I told you that I do not know what I am. Or rather, I have a guess.
You see, I remember when oceans covered these hills, and I remember when tiny creatures filled the shells which are strung up in my temple. I knew where each had burrowed, because they were buried in my soil. The feathers collected for my temple were carried here on my wind. And the pebbles smoothed in my streams.
To these people, I am a minor god, because that is how I wish to be perceived.
But for you, Devourer of Gods, I will deign to stretch out, unfurl.
You came to feast upon gods, little one. I wonder, how will you contend with a world?
.
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Germs [Reid x Reader]
this gif isn’t mine
Summary: Reader is sure the resident BAU genius doesn’t like her, but she’s not sure why. But even if he did like her, he’s a germaphobe, so he wouldn’t be comfortable with the things she wants to do to him...would he?
Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader
Word Count: 5.6k
Rating: Mature
Category: Fluff and Smut
Content Warning: Brief mentions of torture and violence, usually criminal minds stuff, nothing explicit. Light choking, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, language (maybe?)
A/n: I have come out of fan fiction writing retirement for this one. Let me know what y’all think!
masterlist
y/n - your name
y/l/n - your last name
italicized text is Reader’s sassy inner thoughts
---
I’m not sure if I believe in hell, but if there is a hell, I’m sure it feels exactly like Louisiana in July. Every time I walked outside I felt like I was walking into soup. Gross. I couldn’t help but feel guilty over my sigh of relief when I walked back into the local precinct the team was currently working out of.
Young women are dying, and I’m worried about a little bit of heat.
But, fuck, it was hot.
Speaking of heat, I thought as I threw open the door to the conference room only to run smack into the hottest thing I’d ever encountered.
“Shit,” I exclaimed before I thought better of it. “I’m so sorry.” I ran my eyes up, up, up, all the way up his body until I met his eyes; those beautiful honey brown eyes that threatened to have me acting like an idiot if I stared into them for too long.
Dr. Spencer Reid’s cheeks were tinged pink, his posture stiff, his fingers clutching the file he was carrying for dear life. “Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” he sounded uncomfortable, which made my stomach drop. “My fault.” With that, he quickly maneuvered around me and headed off to complete whatever genius task he had to complete.
My eyes followed him until he was out of sight before I mentally shook myself. ‘C’mon, this is pointless,’ I thought. ‘He doesn’t even like you.’ Which I really thought was true, the good doctor went out of his way to avoid me whenever possible. ‘Plus, he’s a germaphobe.’ This thought was confirmed true. He didn’t shake people’s hands, the only people I’d seen him touch during my time at the BAU were members of the team that he’d known for years, and some of those even seemed reluctant.
Admittedly, I didn’t know a lot about germaphobia; since I couldn’t ask the only genius I knew, I did the next logical thing. I googled it. Every person I’d read about seemed to experience germaphobia differently. Some people could have sex, but others were grossed out by the very idea. Knowing my luck, Spencer Reid and his beautiful hands, and his soulful eyes, and his cheekbones that could cut glass was in the repulsed by sex category. Which is fine! Right, it is fine to not be interested in sex; the only problem was I was very interested in every part of him.
Maybe he thinks I’m gross. Maybe I stink? Maybe he’s just repulsed by my very presence. Regardless, I couldn’t see Spencer Reid ever shoving me against a wall and fucking me senseless.
I sighed, making my way over to the conference table, pulling out a chair before I flopped into it. I could feel the exhaustion settling into my bones. We had been in Louisiana for almost a week now and we were still no closer to finding our unsub. He was a white man, he worked in a lower-paying job, and he hated women.
Obviously, that didn’t narrow it down much.
The unsub was targeting women in clubs and bars, following them outside before he bashed them on the back of the head. After that, he threw the girls over his shoulder and took them to his car; he moved them to a secondary location before he tortured them. The first two victims had survived. They were traumatized, but they were fighters; they both said the same things, ‘he kept my eyes covered the entire time,’ “I never saw his face,’ ‘I did whatever he told me to do.’
We thought the killing of the third victim had been an accident, but that accident had excited our guy enough that he changed his ritual; the killing was crucial now. We had 4 bodies, 2 live victims that couldn’t tell us anything, and no leads.
Sighing, I leaned forward, bringing the heels of my hands to my eyes. I hated feeling helpless. The answer to who this fucker was is in this evidence somewhere and I will find it. If it’s the last thing I do.
The doors swung open again, pulling me from my thoughts. Hotch lead the parade of people, followed by Morgan, JJ, and Dr. Reid. Our unit chef looked gravely serious…not that that necessarily meant anything, in the 6 months I’d been with the behavioral analysis unit I hadn’t seen him have any other expression.
Morgan pulled out his phone, hitting what I suspected was speed dial number 1. “Hey baby girl,” he said, without his usual swagger; even he was tired. “You’re on speaker. You’ve got me, Hotch, JJ, Reid, and Y/l/n.”
“And I have the always wonderful Emily Prentiss, and the dashing David Rossi on the line, effectively putting my favorite people together again, as they should be,” Garcia quipped. I don’t think she meant to include me in her list of ‘favorite people,’ but it made me smile anyway. “Okay, crime fighters, what’s the play?”
“We’re still no closer to finding the unsub,” Hotch began. “He’s highly organized, methodical, and paranoid; but he hasn’t killed in 3 days, this is a break from his escalation pattern. He’s going to strike soon.” Hotch leaned over resting his palms on the shiny fake wood of the conference table. “Our best chance is to send an agent out there as bait.” There was a general murmur of agreement before he continued on. “Garcia, we need you to find all of the night clubs, bars, and whatever else you can think of in the updated comfort zone.”
The sound of keys clicking made its way through the speaker. “Assuming we’re excluding the places he’s already hit, that leaves us with 3 possibilities.”
“So far he hasn’t struck a place twice,” Prentiss chimed in. “Do we think he’s going to hold to that pattern?”
Reid moved over to the board where the map of the county was displayed. “I think so. This guy is too careful to risk going to a place where he’s been before. The chance of him being recognized is too great, especially when everyone is on high alert.” He gestured to the area he had circled on the map. “His pattern seems to be focusing in on this center point right here,” he said, placing a pin in the map. “This area means something. Garcia, what is the closest club or bar to the intersection of Washington Avenue and Harrison Street?”
“That would beeeeee…The Blue Fox.”
“That’s where he’ll be,” Dr. Reid said confidently, his eyes moving to Hotch’s face.
The older man nodded. “It’s our best lead so far, we have to run with it.”
“It’s Friday night,” Rossi pointed out. “We’ll have to act soon.”
Hotch nodded, seeming to be lost in thought. “We need to send agents in there tonight. We know the victims were all on dates or flirting with a man right before their abduction. He targets women that are happy with their companions then waits til he can separate them.”
“Who are you planning on sending in, Hotch?’ JJ questioned.
“Y/l/n is the youngest, she fits the build of the previous victims the best.” His heavy gaze rested on me. “What do you think?”
Like it was even a choice. “I’m in.”
Hotch nodded, accepting my answer. “Good. You’ll partner with Reid.”
“What?!” I squawked, much to my embarrassment. I cleared my throat before I continued. “But, Reid and I…I just thought Morgan would be the obvious choice.” Fuck, I’m just digging a bigger hole.
Morgan gave me an easy smile. “You’re just saying that because you wanna see my moves, little mama.”
Hotch cleared his throat, bringing our attention back. “Morgan is too intimidating; the unsub might not move in if he feels too threatened. You’ll go with Reid.” When he was met with silence he continued on, “alright, let’s get to work.”
-
And that is how I wound up in a club in Louisiana on a Friday night, in a tight black dress, with Spencer Reid beside me. After he walked into the club holding my hand. He doesn’t hold hands, I cringed internally at the thought. He must feel so uncomfortable.
He waved the bartender over, ordering a drink for me and a water for himself before turning to me. “I thought a drink would loosen you up a bit. You look nervous.”
I am nervous. “Right. Thanks.” I drummed my fingers on the bar, my gaze sweeping around the club for anyone who seemed out of place and especially creepy. Most lone men at clubs and bars were creepy, but we need especially creepy.
“Is that because you don’t think I can have your back?”
My head snapped back around. “What?”
Spencer paused to accept the drinks from the bartender, sliding him the money. “In the conference room. You seemed upset that Morgan wasn’t going to be your partner,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Is that because you think I wouldn’t have your back?”
Fuck. I blushed to the roots of my hair. “No, Spencer! God no! It’s not that, I know you’d have my back.” I took a sip of my drink before I said anything else. “It’s just that…you don’t seem to like me very much, and I know you have a thing about germs, and I thought maybe that’s why you didn’t like me.” I was babbling; I was absolutely babbling. “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, that’s all. Morgan has never seemed uncomfortable around me, so…” I trailed off lamely.
The corners of his lips quirked up in amusement. “So, you didn’t want to partner with me on this because you didn’t want me to be uncomfortable?”
I nodded, fidgeting with the straw in my drink.
Spencer moved closer to me, his right hand coming to rest on the small of my back. He seemed as calm as he could be, meanwhile I suddenly had trouble breathing.
It’s for the case. He has to do this for the case. Calm down.
"What do my issues with germs have to do with this?" he wondered, leaning closer to me. I could feel his breath on my neck; my skin broke out in goosebumps.
Double fuck. “Well, we’re supposed to be…together. And you think I’m gross. What if you have to kiss me?” TRIPLE FUCK. “Not that we’d have to kiss,” I tried to backpedal. “But we might, you never know. And I just didn’t…I don’t want you to dislike me more than you do.”
The teasing smile slipped from his face, the fingers on my lower back flexing slightly. He regarded me with a tilt of his head. "You're serious?" At my shaky nod, he continued. "Y/n, I don't think you're gross."
“You don’t?” I squeaked.
He lifted his hand from my back then, sliding it up to my shoulder, his free hand moving from the bar to rest on my hip. Spencer brushed my hair back before he leaned forward. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I felt his lips touch the tender skin of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut, unable to suppress a gasp at the contact. Spencer Reid’s beautiful lips slid down to the place where my neck and shoulder met, then I felt his teeth nip the skin before he placed another kiss there. He worked his way back up towards my ear, the hand on my hip moving slightly so he was almost grabbing my ass. “I don’t think you’re gross,” he breathed, causing me to shudder. I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Germs don’t bother me in that way, especially around people I know. I wouldn’t have a problem kissing you, baby.”
I was going to need new panties after this. Spencer Reid, awkward, sweet, Dr. Spencer Reid just called me Baby.
“…Oh.” Really, y/n. Oh; you went with oh?
The good doctor pulled back, his face close enough to mine that I could see that he had freckles under his eyes and that those beautiful eyes got more golden towards the center. "Oh."
-
Michael Watkins was the name of our unsub. He was a short white man with a receding hairline and a bad temper. His last relationship had ended 3 months before the first attack; Spencer was right to pick this bar. Shortly after he tried to make my pussy combust with his neck kisses, Reid suggested I walk to the bathroom, assuring me he’d be watching if anyone followed.
Watkins’ hand was in my hair, dragging me outside before I made it to the ladies’ room. I felt a jolt of fear as I struggled to escape, strands of hair being ripped from my head. I shouldn’t have worried, because no sooner had the outside door opened than I heard the velvety voice of Derek Morgan. “FBI! Put your hands where we can see them.”
He attempted to run. Why would anyone try to run from Derek Morgan?
After the medics confirmed I was okay, I was sent back to the hotel while the rest of the team went with the local police to book Watkins and try to get a full confession.
“Good work,” Hotch said, his hand clapping down on my shoulder.
The highest praise I’ll ever need.
I hopped into the shower right when I got back to my room, not wanting Watkins’ touch on me for a moment longer.
Spencer’s touch, however,…That was a touch I wouldn’t mind having on me. But he’d barely looked at me once he made it outside. I knew he was being affectionate in there because of the case, we were playing a role. I knew that. I still couldn’t stop the twinge of hurt I felt.
But he doesn’t think I’m gross. That had to count for something.
I had just got done blow drying my hair enough so that it wouldn’t look too crazy when I woke up when there was a knock on my door. Figuring it was Emily, I didn't consider the fact that I was in my pajamas, and my face was scrubbed free of makeup.
It wasn’t Emily. Spencer Reid stood on the other side of my door, his eyes running down my body before he met my bewildered stare again. “You look comfy,” he commented with that damn little smile on his lips again.
“Oh. Yeah. I took a shower.” Way to go, y/n, you’re really killing it tonight.
“I see that,” he said, his cheeks going a little bit pink. “Can I come in? I thought we should talk.” Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous?
I ushered him in, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bottom edge of my bed; his body angled towards the headboard. I briefly debated about where to sit before I joined him. Don’t make it weird, y/n.
He cleared his throat before he began. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight. I just wanted to make sure we got the guy.”
Right. “Oh, it’s okay, Spencer. I get it. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” I picked at the frayed edge of my sleep shorts, my eyes dropping so he didn’t see anything on my face that betrayed how I was feeling; you can’t be too careful around profilers.
His hand reached out to cover my own fidgeting hands, one of his hands covering both of mine. His hands were so big. His fingers were so long, the veins in his hands were so pronounced. I bet those fingers would feel really – FOCUS.
“I’m also sorry you thought I didn’t like you.” His thumb had started to move slowly over the back of my hand. “I do like you. I like you a lot, actually. I just…” I brought my gaze back up to meet his eyes. “I just get nervous sometimes.”
“You didn’t seem nervous in the club.”
“No,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t nervous then because it was my job. I wasn’t worried about misreading a signal…doing the wrong thing…I’m not the best with social cues.” I had noticed that about him before. “But I am a really good profiler.” And he’s humble too, apparently.
“I know that you couldn’t fake your reaction to me in the club. Your breathing became quicker, I felt your pulse jump under my lips when they were on your neck. I saw how blown your pupils got." He shifted closer to me then, bringing his other hand up to push my hair behind my shoulder like he did earlier in the night. "Just like they are now."
He leaned closer to me, his voice was lower, and it made my stomach flutter. "You're clenching your thighs together, Y/n. Your shirt may be baggy, but I can see how hard your nipples are too." His tongue ran out to wet his lips. "If I'm wrong, just tell me now. If I've misread this, I will leave right now, and we can pretend this never happened." Spencer brought both his hands up to cradle my face; despite how wet my panties were, how tight my nipples are, how badly I wanted him to touch me, this gesture made me feel special. He was holding me like he actually cared about me like I was precious. "But, if I'm not wrong, and you want this too, Y/n, tell me. Tell me you want this too and I won't stop touching you until you scream my name."
I let out a soft whimper then. Like it’s a choice. “I want this,” I leaned into his touch. “Please, Spencer.”
His thumb brushed over my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please, what, baby?”
“Kiss me.”
No sooner had the words left my mouth than his lips were on mine. His lips were softer than I imagined, they were firm and almost…questioning. When I nipped at his bottom lip, something seemed to break free inside of him. His lips slanted over mine with a hunger I had never felt. His tongue ran over my bottom lip before I opened for him. Spencer’s tongue moved into my mouth while his hands moved; one hand moved back to grip my hair at the base of my skull, tugging firmly, the other moved down to my neck, not applying any pressure, just resting it there in a gesture that felt possessive.
The need for oxygen broke us apart, his lips moving across my cheek to my jaw, then down to my neck. “How could you think I didn’t like you?” he mumbled into my skin. “You have no idea what you do to me. None.”
I threw my head back when he sucked on my pulse point, a moan ripping from my throat. “W-what…what do I do?”
Pulling back from me, he gripped the bottom of my shirt, looking at me for consent before he pulled it over my head. His eyes were firmly on my chest, his lips parted, his breathing heavy. He pushed me down slowly on the bed; I was on my back and he was hovering over me. I felt his mouth place hot, wet, kisses from my collarbone down towards my breasts. His right hand landed on my breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over my nipple while his lips moved closer and closer to my left. I tangled my hands in his hair, urging him forward.
“You want to know what you do to me?” he raised his head slightly, making sure my eyes were on him when he flicked his tongue over my nipple, causing me to gasp. “What do you do to me in your little skirts, with your little smiles, and your little laughs?” He gave my nipple a sharp pinch. “You’re all I fucking think about, y/n.” With a growl, he finally took my nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. He switched to the other breast while he adjusted himself over me, bringing his pelvis down to rest at the seam of my body between my thighs. I shifted restlessly under him, trying to grind my pussy against him. He was so fucking hard.
With a groan, he lifted his head and started kissing his way towards the middle of my chest, moving down to the curve of my stomach. “Do you know how many times I came back to my hotel room after spending all day with you and was so hard I had to cum before I could think of anything else?” he peppered kisses down my body as he spoke.
My eyes shot open at this confession that he seemed to think was no big deal. “What?” I couldn’t believe this. “You…you touched yourself and thought of…”
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and panties, taking my raised hips as an invitation to remove both from my body. "You. I thought of you." He threw my clothes on the floor, pulling my legs open. His eyes moved over all of me, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed hard. “I thought about kissing you. About making you squirm for me.” He ran his fingers up and down my thighs, his mouth running slowly over my inner thighs. Spencer’s hands hooked around my upper thighs, moving me to where he wanted me. “But, most of all, I thought about this pretty pussy.” He placed a kiss on my clit, chuckling at the wanton moan that came from me and how my fingers tangled in his soft brown curls.
“I thought about all the different ways I could make this pretty pussy cum all over me.” With that, he ran his tongue up my slit before flicking it over my clit.
Dr. Spencer Reid was good at everything, so of course, he was good at this too. His mouth moved over me, watching my reaction to see what I liked best. His tongue moved in circles around my clit before slipping down to my opening. His tongue plunged inside me, fucking me, while his thumb came over to rub my clit.
“Spence- fuck- Spencer, please.” My hips tried to shift restlessly, but his arms were iron bars holding me still. He slowly moved his left forearm to rest across my hips, bringing his right hand down to my throbbing pussy. He pulled his mouth away from me, much to my dismay. He pushed one finger, then another into me. My head thrashed wildly, and my thighs started to shake. “Spencer!”
He just smirked and curled his fingers, hitting the spot inside me that made everything in my body pulse. “What, baby?”
My breaths were coming in gasps, my voice was a needy whimper. “Make me cum, Spencer. Please, please make me cum.”
He needed no other encouragement. His fingers continued their steady thrust in and out of me while his mouth covered my clit again. He alternated between flicking my clit with his tongue, then circling it before pulling it into his mouth, sucking lightly.
“Spencer.” I felt my orgasm rising. “Spencer don’t- don’t stop. I’m gonna cum, please make me cum.”
He kept his pace steady, sucking on my clit, moaning at my words. His eyes had been closed, but at that moment they opened and met mine. Then I felt his teeth ghost over my clit, I saw the want in his eyes. That was my undoing. My back arched, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. I heard myself say his name over and over again. Spencer pushed his fingers inside me, massaging me through the most powerful orgasm I had ever had. With one final kiss on my oversensitive clit, he withdrew his fingers, putting them into his mouth to suck my orgasm off of them.
He kissed back up my body, and I tried to respond, but I was still so shattered. I had never felt anything so powerful before. He cupped my face in one hand and kissed me slowly. I returned the kiss, moving my hands to the buttons of his shirt.
Spencer broke the kiss, pulling back to look at me again. “Hang on, baby.” His hand came up to still my own. “We can take a second. It’s okay. Just breathe.”
This beautiful man smiled at me then. I felt my heart flutter when he leaned down to pepper soft kisses along my jaw, his thumb coming up to wipe a tear that fell from the corner of my eye that I hadn’t even noticed.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that. He shifted to lay beside me, whispering reassurances to me while I came back down. This was just one of the ways that Spencer was so different from every other man. I didn't feel rushed, or pressured. I could feel how hard he still was, I could feel the tension in his body, but he simply kissed me while he cupped my jaw.
He made me feel…cherished.
I moved my hands to tangle in his hair again, deepening our kiss. He didn’t move my hands away when I started to work on the buttons of his shirt. The fire that I thought had been calmed by my orgasm had come roaring back. Spencer moved his hands to his belt while I finished with his shirt. His shirt came off, tossed in the same direction as my clothes. I pulled his pants and boxers down his legs, watching his cock spring free.
Everything about him was painfully beautiful. His angular cheekbones, the jaw that looked like it was carved from granite, even the toned muscles of his body. He had a small trail of hair that went down from his belly button to his groin. His cock laid against his stomach, the head glistening with precum.
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, kneeling beside him, running my eyes over his body.
His soft hand came to grab mine, pulling it to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand, smiling softly at me.
I moved to straddle him, lower on his thighs. I took him in my hand, moving up and down, twisting my wrist as I neared the tip, swiping my thumb over his head.
“Baby,” he groaned. “Y/n, as much as I want you to do…whatever the fuck you want with me, I’m so close. I feel like I’m going to explode.” I bit into my bottom lip, unable to totally stop the smile spreading over my face. “Please, I need to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock.” He moved his hands to my hips, urging my body forward.
I raised up on my knees, taking him in my hand again, lining him up with my entrance. The tendons in his neck were strained, his fingers gripped my hips so hard I knew I was going to have bruises tomorrow. As I slowly started to sink down on his cock, Spencer let out the sexiest groan I had ever heard. His eyes were fixed where our bodies were joined, watching his dick slid deeper inside of me.
“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “You’re doing so good. Just a little bit more.”
He was so long, he wasn't overly thick, but just thick enough to cause a pleasurable stretching when he breached me that was almost painful. I gasped out a sound that might have been his name when he bottomed out inside me. I slowly circled my hips, adjusting to him. Spencer’s nails dug into my hips as he forced himself to stay still.
“Please move, y/n. Please. You’re so fucking tight.” He groaned as my walls fluttered around him. “Do you like it when I talk to you? Does that make your pretty pussy wetter?” He smirked at my whimper as I tightened around him.
I began at a slower pace, trying to tease him. Spencer quickly lost patience with that; he thrust his hips upwards, meeting my movements, his hands pushing me down onto him. I leaned forward, bracing on hand on his shoulder, the other on the bed. He pounded into me while I tried to match his pace. Spencer’s hand moved from my hip up to wrap around my throat. I nodded, forcing my eyes to stay open as he moved inside me.
His fingers squeezed slightly, pulling my face closer to his. Our lips met in a sloppy kiss. My thighs burned from matching his movements. “You feel so fucking good, y/n.” His grip on my neck tightened ever so slightly, which only heightened my arousal. “I want to feel you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”
He flipped us over quickly, never pulling completely out of me. Spencer moved to push my legs further apart, the change in angle allowing him to fill me deeper than I thought possible. His hair was sticking to his brow, his cheeks were flushed, his breathing erratic. He was the most fucking beautiful thing I had ever seen.
One hand held my leg, the other went down to my pussy, his thumb moving over my clit at a rapid pace. “Tell me what you need, Pretty Girl. Tell me how to make this pretty pussy cum all over me.”
I whined at his words. “Spencer, I-“ my voice broke off. I was so fucking close. "I need you." He seemed to understand my broken plea. He brought his body down, his chest flush against mine. He rocked into me at such a fast and hard pace. His hand still in between us rubbing circles around my clit.
I felt his lips ghost over my ear. “I want to fucking hear you, y/n.” His speed increased, his thrust getting choppier. He was close. “I want this whole fucking town to hear what you sound like when I make you cum. When you cream all over my dick, I want you to scream my name.” With that, he moved his mouth down my neck. He bit the same tender area he had kissed in the club, where my neck met my shoulder.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck yes, Spencer!" I felt myself begin to splinter apart. “Please make me cum, fuck please.” My babbling finally broke as my orgasm tore through me. I couldn’t hear his deep groan when I came, my scream was too loud. I felt the vibration against my neck. It was only as I started to float down that I realized my nails were dug into his back. With a few last thrust and my name on his lips, I felt Spencer pulse, cumming inside me.
We lay there for a few minutes, just breathing before he rolled off of me. I felt overwhelmed, so I was relieved when he tugged me over to him. He wrapped his arm around me when I laid my head on his chest. I felt his lips on my forehead. “It’s very important for women to urinate after sexual intercourse to avoid UTIs, but you have another minute or so before that becomes more urgent.”
I couldn’t control my laugh at his comment. "Thanks, Doc." I kissed his chest. "Only you could make me cum so hard I almost blackout, then go back to being…you." I slowly untangled myself from him, going to the bathroom to handle business. When I returned, I found Spencer where I left him, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, one hand resting behind his head, the other over his heart. He looked so lost in that moment.
“Spencer?” I asked, crawling on to the bed. “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t pretend that something wasn’t bothering him. “When you said that I just go back to being me…Do you not like that?”
My heart broke a tiny bit at the question. “Spencer, no! I love that! I love your little facts and statistics!” How did he not know that? “The best part of my day is listening to you talk. Just being with you is wonderful.” I cupped his face, bringing his gaze to mine. “Sure, I like what we just did; but I liked you before that. I want both.”
Fuck. “Assuming you want me,” I rambled quickly. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, I know that it doesn’t always-“
He cut me off by pressing his lips to mine in the sweetest kiss I had ever felt. It was filled with hope and promise and…Spencer.
“It means everything to me, Y/n.”
-
I didn’t see the rest of the team until the next morning when we all boarded the jet; I was so ready to go home. I personally didn’t think anything appeared that different. Spencer sat beside me on the couch, but that wasn’t weird…right? We were just co-workers, sitting beside each other super casually. Had we spent most of last night and a little bit of this morning screwing each other’s brains out? Certainly. But you couldn’t see that…right?
Morgan’s chuckle is what confirmed I was so wrong. “Hey, y/l/n,” he called, smiling so hard it looked like his face would split from his amusement. “You missed a spot.” He pointed towards his own neck.
There was a beat of silence before Hotch snorted. SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man who never found anything funny was laughing at me.
I felt myself turn tomato red, angling my body towards Spencer’s, burying my head against his shoulder, away from the rest of the team.
“I bet you’re glad pretty boy was your partner now, huh?”
I may have wanted to melt into the floor in embarrassment, but it was sort of worth it to see the blush on Spencer’s cheeks.
--
#spencer reid#dr spencer reid#Dr Reid#Spencer reid fic#Spencer reid smut#dr spencer reid smut#dr spencer reid fics#criminal minds#criminal minds fan fic#criminal minds smut#Spencer reid x you#Spencer reid x reader#Spencer reid x y/n
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17 Marks The Spot
Joshua x Reader
Fluff, very cute newlywed husband!Joshua, mentions of sex & hangovers
872 words
Summary: The one where you and your husband are idiots and sleep the entire night after your wedding instead of fleeing to Paris or Hawaii
Requested by: @shujiloey
So sorry this took forever and a day to write, love :( I hope you love reading it as much as I loved writing it🤍
Most people have a wild, rambunctious, sex filled night after their wedding. Some wake up with hickey’s and hangovers, others find themselves countries away in a 5 star resort.
And while it’s true you definitely had a fun night with your new husband of 24 hours, you didn’t wake up with a killer headache and in desperate need of being hidden from civilization. No, instead, you awoke from a 15 hour long sleep with your limbs tangled amongst Joshua’s, body sprawled to where you’re both half off the bed and half on him, and your bowl of popcorn from last nights movie night spilt haphazardly along the bedding you and Josh weren’t covering.
Obviously, you had your priorities straight.
You were almost positive you could have slept even longer, basking in the feeling of laying next to your lover who you could now not only call your husband, but the one you were to spend the rest of your life with. I mean, he looked just as stunning as he did resting beside (underneath?) you with his wavy hair disheveled along his forehead and pillowcase and the occasional snore or two he sounded, just as he had last night standing across you on the alter with his mighty expensive suit on; how could you not want to be curled up next to him for as long as you possibly could until you started to either stink or starve to death? Joshua Hong was truly ethereal.
Your minuscule moment of admiring your gorgeous husband was over just as quick as it started as he tossed from his stomach to his back, arm flailing in the air as he moved. Unfortunately for you, you happened to have been resting on said arm that ended up flying through the air, landing directly onto your face with a loud smack against your nose.
“Awh- ow dear God-“ your grumbles of pain were masked behind the coverage of Josh’s hand against your mouth, and yet somehow he managed to have heard the winces and groans.
“Y/n?” Joshua’s voice was gravelly, you could just barely hear your name being called from how low he muttered it. He shifted his torso so he was sitting up a tad more, his back resting against the cluster of pillows that was previously behind your heads.
You watched as he yawned, using his left arm, or the one that wasn’t still sprawled across your reddening face, to wipe at his face in an attempt to wake up. He still hadn’t noticed that his hand was using you as a resting place, nono, he simply laid back against the pillows even more while he stretched out against the bed.
Clearing your throat in an effort to get his attention, you curled your fingers around his hand; though you didn’t move it. Instead, you smiled smugly at the bunny boy, small snorts leaving your nose at the way he retracted his hand off your face and flinched back in surprise.
Joshua traced the padding of his finger along the side of your cheek right below your eye, holding his lips tightly together in a way to not laugh- his enjoyment was fairly obvious either way considering his eyes were filled with amusement as he stared at your face.
Confused, your eyebrows furrowed together as you poked Josh’s side, “what are you so amused for hm?” He sniggered at that, shaking his head, in return causing his deflated hair to fall in his eyes before pushing it back,
“Nothing, it’s just you have a bright red band across your cheek from where my group ring was,” Joshua swiped his phone from the floor where it must have fell at some point while you both were asleep, fingers swiping around his screen before a sudden white flash blinded your vision for a moment, “now you have the number 17 indented on your skin” His laughter was loud as he pointed his chin in the air, the way his eyes crinkled and nose scrunched making his resemblance to the hopping animal even more uncanny.
“This is definitely going to the group chat, the boys are gonna love this-“
“Joshua Hong I swear to God-“ your body was abruptly shielded from trying to snatch his phone that had been loosely held in his hand, his arms swiftly tying themselves around your waist before dipping his head down to capture your lips in his.
Your words were cut short with an mmpfh as you readily kissed him back, forgetting for a quick second about the probably horrendous photo he had just taken of you. Even after a whole night of kissing and such, and of course years prior, you’d never get tired of making out with Joshua Hong.
“Sorry Mrs. Hong,” Josh began, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours so he could wiggle his nose against yours at the same time, “but swearing to God won’t make me delete this photo”
You were glad you hadn’t been like other newlyweds and ran off to Florida or Hawaii, if you had, you wouldn’t have been able to have spent such an innocently cute awakening with your love in the comfort of your recently purchased new home.
#kpop#follow#reblog#seventeen#carat#seventeen fluff#joshua x reader#Joshua#joshua hong#svt#svt fluff#seventeen fanfics#seventeen angst#seventeen smut#svt angst#joshua fluff#joshua drabbles#joshua fanfics#seventeen au#svt carat#svt scenarios#svt drabbles#joshua hong imagines#literature#starryse
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Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby [part VII]
pairing: jean kirstein x f!reader
genre: angst angst angst
summary: despite their strained relationship, the two travel together under the guise of a newly married couple that moved to the countryside of Liberio. Their mission keeps them in Marley for months, and the two keep a close eye on Eren. However, what will they do when they run into an old friend? How will Jean react upon seeing them again, and how will he break the news to ____. Will he break the news to her?
warning(s): mild cursing
word count: 1.7K
mast | aot mast | prev | next
You didn’t know how you found yourself in this situation. Charlotte combed your hair, humming happily.
“Don’t be nervous Cosette.”
“How can I not be? Everything just happened so fast and I really wasn’t expecting to go to the festival tonight,” you looked at yourself in the mirror. You’ve never worn makeup before, nor did you ever bother to put flowers in your hair and wear perfume. Such things were trivial in the military.
Your lovely neighbors hatched up a plan to make Jean take you to the festival tonight. Charlotte asked if you could help her in her garden, seeing as you had become so “well-versed” in gardening and the language of flowers, and in that time, Oliver had gone over to your house to “speak to that husband of yours.” Eventually, there was a knock at the door, and because Charlotte was busy, you answered.
“Hey, Cosette,” the air between you was still awkward from this morning, “Why don’t we go to the festival tonight?” Jean looked over at Oliver, who simply nodded with his arms crossed.
“I don’t–“
“I bought you this dress. I thought it matched your eyes and it’s really pretty and shiny. There’s even flowers on it,” Jean was a muttering mess and you couldn’t help but smile a little at how cute he was being.
“Okay.”
“R-Really?”
“Of course. After all, Oliver went all that way to help you find a dress for me and it’d be a waste of his time. Not only that but Charlotte had to pretend to not know how to garden for the past 3 hours and that must have been tiring,” you noted. Charlotte and Oliver stiffened, causing you to laugh.
“You must have been popular back home. Claude is lucky to have you,” Charlotte smiled at you through the mirror.
“Please, you flatter me Charlotte,” memories of your trainee days flashed in your mind. You once never considered yourself beautiful, but your comrades didn’t seem to agree. Many of them asked for your hand in marriage, and there was a time when one of your close friends even proposed with a loaf of bread. All these faces and smiles, names and memories you held dear to your heart, caused your heart to throb. Was this war really worth it?
“Let’s go downstairs. I’m sure they’re ready for us.”
Downstairs, Jean paced anxiously.
“What if she doesn’t love me anymore? I’ve broken her heart so many times. It’s only a matter of time before someone snatches her away from me.”
“Calm down Claude–“
“She’s just so beautiful. What am I supposed to do when I see her? I’ve never seen her in such a lovely dress before.”
“Claude, please. You’re being–“
“Oh my god, what if my breath stinks? I-Is my hair sticking up? Does this suit look a little tight? Why is it so hard to breathe?”
“You’re doing great my love,” you wrapped your arms around him, placing your head on his shoulder blade. Jean froze as he felt you behind him, embarrassment washing over. Tonight was the closest thing to a date he’s ever experienced (or rather, about to experience). Being a commanding officer meant he had more duties now, and with the world being in the turmoil that it was, dating was hardly an option, even if…no, even though he wanted to.
Jean took this moment to turn around and kiss your hand. Despite everything that’s happened here in Marley, and whatever is to come, he felt comfortable with you. The heartbreak written on your face was no longer there for some reason. And, for some reason, he felt it in him to forgive himself for having hurt you to the extent he did. Neither of you needed to speak to know what the other felt. The past few years that you two spent hating yet loving one another seemed to have been erased from your memories as you stood in silence.
“Come. Let’s not be late to the festival,” you were led outside, the cool air hitting your skin. You wondered if you could make it to town in your heels and if you could enjoy the festival in them. You had never really worn shoes before. Suddenly, you heard a whine. Looking up, your gaze was met with that of a beautiful black stallion with a curly mane. The horse had brown spots sprinkled on its body, and the loveliest eyes you’d ever seen, second only to your–
“Oh my,” you gasped, looking up at Jean, then back at the stallion before you, “this looks just like–“
“Cherie,” you and Jean spoke at the same time. He looked down at you, smiling softly.
“I saw her in town today. Looked just like your Cherie back home,” Jean took your hand and led you to her, placing your hand on her long face. You looked at each other in silence, her big black eyes looking into yours.
Cherie was your horseback in Paradis. She always went on missions with you, and because you had grown up on a farm, you spent more time with her than you did with your friends sometimes; it was just what you were used to. Because of that, you formed a strong bond during your time in the Scouts. It was hard to leave her behind.
“You’re lovely. You look just like my Cherie, except with smaller ears,” you kissed her snout.
Jean pulled you up, placing you between his legs. With your pretty dress and hair and makeup done, you felt like those princesses in Armin’s stories. You liked to imagine Jean as your prince, but he was too rough around the edges for that. Maybe he could be a knight that saved you from the dragon. You chuckled at the thought and corrected yourself. You were your own knight, and Jean just happened to be in love with you. That was better.
“What’re you chuckling about?”
“Nothing,” you shook your head.
The town was decorated with lanterns and banners. People were singing, dancing, laughing, and drinking. The music was lively and none like any you’ve ever heard before. Marleyan music was different: it was filled with excitement and wonder, and most of all, happiness, something you didn’t hear much of back home.
“I’m gonna go buy something to eat,” Jean looked down at you and you nodded. He wasn’t wearing his fedora today, and you were glad. As handsome as he was in it, you liked seeing his hair dangle over his lit-up face in the night.
“Cosette, it’s been a while,” Jacques appeared beside you, crossing his arms.
“So it has been,” you weren’t interested in talking to him. At first, you were elated to have made a new friend, but Jacques never cared to hide his feelings for you and often came off as rude. You usually joked around his advances, especially when Andre tried setting the two of you up. Yet the few times you actually rejected him, he would bring up how Jean “wasn’t half the man he was” and how Jean “probably sleeps with other women when you aren’t home.” Oh brother.
“You’re alone again today. Don’t you ever get tired of doing this?”
“What is it exactly that I’m doing Jacques?” You spared the man a glance before watching the children dance before you in a circle.
“Being the only one in a marriage.”
“Aren’t you tired of asking me out?” you bit back. The man only laughed, raising his hands up in the air.
“I must admit, I’ve been too forward. But I can’t just sit by while a beauty like you gets her heartbroken.” Okay, ouch.
“And you know, I’ve never seen that husband of yours lift a finger. I’m sure he can’t even protect you against those island devils.” You scoffed. The audacity he had to bring up your people as if you weren’t from the same ancestors. The audacity he had to call your people island devils and act as if you were disgusting for having been born. You wondered, then, where he learned to be so brave to tell you Jean wouldn’t be able to protect you.
“Who’s this Sweetheart?” Jean snaked an arm around your waist, offering you some of the food he bought.
“I love him, Jacques. You’re wrong to think that I need a man to protect me, and even more so to think you’re half the man my husband is,” you leaned into Jean who only chuckled and kissed your head.
“Did ya really mean what you said back there? That you love me?”
“Oh shut it; I’m not in the mood,” you took a bite out of the kebab and chewed angrily.
“Must have been hard on you all this time to not punch him in the face,” Jean leaned back on the wall behind the both of you.
“Like hell it was. Being here is really a test of patience.” The ash-brown-haired man beside you laughed. Being gushy and sweet with you was nice, but he missed the banter.
“Don’t laugh you ass. You look ugly when you do,” you rolled your eyes.
“That language is not befitting a lady,” Jean mocked Historia’s voice. The both of you made sure to say goodbye to her before you left. Before she was your queen, she was your friend and you missed her dearly.
“Oh shut it you–“ you spotted a head full of black hair. In a sea of people, you were unsure how you were able to spot him so easily.
“How tall was he when you saw him?” You looked up at Jean, eyes narrowing, waiting for an answer.
“Don’t run after him.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. Answer my question Kirstein,” you grabbed his collar, forcing him down to your height.
“A little shorter than me,” Jean sighed and grabbed your wrist before you were able to run away.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” he let go of your wrist.
Jean knew that no matter what he said, you were going to go after him anyway. But it was worth a shot. He worried, naturally, but he had a feeling you’d be okay, which is why he let you go alone. It was your first time seeing Marco in years. He had changed, but maybe his love for you still remained. Though he was unsure, he knew that Marco no longer saw Jean as a friend but rather as a threat. And he’d hate to have to “fight” him again.
#jean kirtein x reader angst#jean kirstein angst#jean kirschtein x reader#jean kirschstein#attack on titan#attack on titan jean#shingeki no kyojin
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direction to perfection
Dorian fought his parents to be here.
He fought tooth and nail to be allowed to live in a dorm, so there is no way he can back down from this decision. It’s his first shot at freedom and being normal and doing something for himself instead of his family.
Dorian will not back down.
He will persevere.
“Harder, come on!”
Loud moaning and the creaking of an old mattress accompany the dull thudding that comes from inside of his room. The room he’s currently standing in front of.
“I’m so close, so close, so close—“
Dorian stares at the door. His face is hot and he stands frozen in place as he tries to decide what to do. He needs his lute for the next bard class. He also needs to be far away from this room.
Gods, most of all he needs a new roommate.
“Oh, fuck, just like that—ah—“
Dorian closes his eyes and hides his face in his hands.
He was so proud after he finally convinced his parents to let him stay here. When he first entered his room he wasn’t even concerned about how small it was, or how his roommate’s bed was so close to his that stretching both their arms out would result in them touching hands.
And then he met Dariax, the guy he’s supposed to be living with for a long time.
“Dorian, are you literally standing here listening to Dariax bang someone inside of your room?”, Opal’s voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to look at her. She must see the desperation on his face because the next moment she gives him a pointed look before hammering her fist on the door.
“What the fuck, guys! Rent a room! And hurry up, Dorian needs his stuff!”
Dorian feels mortification creep from his face down into his stomach as he hears a loud thump, a shriek and a curse. The fact that Dariax knows that Dorian has been standing here makes him go through the five stages of grief so quickly that he can feel his insides churn.
Opal turns to face him and gives him a stern stop-putting-up-with-this look before she stalks away, twirling her dagger in her hand.
Dorian wishes it were that easy to voice what he wants.
To be sure of himself.
To live unashamed and free.
Sadly, his current repertoire covers none of these things.
The door gets yanked open and Dorian finds himself face to face with a white, half-elven woman wrapped in a bed sheet, her hair a complete and utter, blonde mess, her purple lipstick smeared across her left cheek.
“I was so close!”, she hisses as she holds up her index finger and thumb to indicate the fact that Dorian just ruined her earth-shattering orgasm.
“I—uh. I’m so—“
“Dorian! Gosh, I’m so sorry, I forgot that you had class, buddy!”
The half-elven woman throws Dorian the nastiest stink-eye and rushes down the corridor in nothing but the bedsheet wrapped around her. Dorian has no idea why she would do that, but Dariax distracts him.
Dariax, who is completely naked, his lips covered in purple lipstick, his cheeks flushed and his hair standing up from his head.
For decency, he’s holding a bottle of wine to cover his crotch.
Dorian wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.
“I—uh. Sorry to disturb the—ah. Fun? I just. I just need to grab my lute real quick”, he says weakly, rushes over to his bed and grabs the lute leaning against the wall beside it.
“Oh, don’t worry about it, buddy, I’ll just go jack off in the shower, it’s no biggie.”
Dorian stares at Dariax who grins at him, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say to someone in this situation.
“Sure. Have fun”, he croaks, his cheeks still flaming, and flees out of the room and down the hallway.
Dorian fought so hard to be here but gods, he wishes he were somewhere else right now.
The class he’s attending is one of his favorites—one that covers Bardic Inspiration as a form of self-expression, but it takes him a while to cool down from the mortifying ordeal of having Dariax as his roommate.
They’ve been living together for almost three months now and it’s not like it’s all bad.
Hell, Dorian likes Dariax.
He’s funny, doesn’t take himself too seriously, he tells ridiculous, entertaining stories and is loyal to a fault. But he’s also extroverted in a way that makes Dorian go insane. There is no moment of silence when Dariax is in the room—because Dariax hates silence. He also brings back so many different people to their room without asking Dorian first. Not all of them are Dariax’ lovers—at least not as far as he knows.
But they’re always loud, always messy and always completely oblivious to Dorian’s social cues.
Opal keeps ranting about how Dorian needs to reinforce his boundaries, but Dorian has no idea how to do that. Never in a million years would he bang on the door of his room if he knows that Dariax is having sex in there. Opal is always so loud and unapologetic about everything—Dorian envies her for it.
Dorian has never kissed anyone. Or had sex. Or anything in between these things. How the fuck both Dariax and Opal know exactly what they like and who they like is beyond him.
“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”, a soft voice says right next to him and Dorian is ripped out of thoughts and into reality. The class has been going for an hour and there’s someone standing next to him he’s never seen before.
She’s definitely some sort of fey—the whole lower half of her body is goat-like and her long ears are drooping. The amount of ribbons her dress is supporting is truly astounding and there is a whole crown of poisonous flowers on top of her head that she wears like a crown. Dorian blinks before catching himself.
“Ah—no. Please”, he says and gestures at the empty chair next to him.
The faun sits down carefully and watches as she carefully places a panflute on her thighs.
“Which bard college do you specialize in?”, Dorian asks.
“Hm? Oh, I’m not a bard. I’m majoring in druid. I just like to make music”, she answers with a smile.
Dorian never considered just taking classes that have nothing to do with his major. Maybe it would be something his parents would disapprove of even more than they did of his bard major and his choice to sleep in a dorm.
“I’m Fearne, by the way”, she adds and nods her heads slightly. A single leaf falls from her head and onto her panflute.
“Dorian”, he answers. Fearne smiles at him.
“You have very pretty hair”, she says.
“Oh. Ah—thank you? You—you too. Your hair, I mean. It’s—uh. Very green.”
Fearne’s smile widens.
“Thank you!”, she says in a tone that suggests that this might be the compliment she’s ever received. Dorian on the other hand wishes he could bite off his tongue. Your hair is very green. What kind of compliment is that? It’s no wonder that he didn’t have any chance to kiss anyone yet if this is all that he can come up with.
Dorian turns around and tries to concentrate on the professor’s lecture but his mind keeps wandering. He takes only a few notes and as he looks over at Fearne he sees that she’s doodling all sorts of mushrooms into her notebook. Then there is a small screech coming directly from her bag.
The class falls silent and everyone turns to look in their direction.
“What was that?”, professor Brooke asks with a confused look on his face. “I don’t remember any familiar registrations for this class.”
Dorian looks at Fearne who turns her head to look around at all the people staring in their direction.
“That was just me”, Fearne says and points to herself. “I ate too much pudding for breakfast.”
Professor Brooke looks embarrassed and very apologetic.
“I’m sorry, dear. Let’s continue then.”
As the lecture continues, Dorian leans over to Fearne.
“Didn’t that come out of your bag?”, he wants to know. Fearne shoots him a sly smile and gently lifts the flap of her green bag. Dorian stares at a small monkey peeking up at him with weirdly glowing eyes. Then the monkey raises his index finger to his mouth as if trying to tell Dorian to shut up.
Fearne closes the bag.
“That’s just Little Mister. He’s my… friend.”
“I see”, Dorian says.
He supposes that this is what he left home for—to meet all sorts of people, learn about all kinds of different things that he would never get in touch with while under his parents’ wings.
So Dorian decides to simply accept that some people are friends with monkeys and carry them around in bags.
If he can manage to live with someone like Dariax, he sure as hell won’t judge someone for bringing an animal companion to class.
After another fifteen minutes, Fearne leans over to Dorian again.
“I don’t understand this concept that the professor is talking about.”
“Oh, they explained it in the first half hour, before you got here.”
“Oh, I see. I was late”, Fearne says and looks disappointed, as if she was only now realizing this.
“Uh—yeah. Like, half an hour.”
“Time is kind of hard, you know. It’s like—it’s like this weird soup. And I don’t think I really have it memorized how to read clocks.”
Dorian stares at her.
“So. Are you not from here?”, he asks and groans internally at his phrasing. Fearne doesn’t seem to mind, though. She nods gratefully as Dorian pushes over his notes so she can look at them.
“No, not really. I come from the Feywild. We don’t really have clocks.”
“Because… time is a weird soup.”
“Yeah, exactly. Is that a saying here, too?”, she asks, her ears turning towards him full of excitement.
“Ah—no. I don’t think it is. Not here, at least.”
“Well, now you know it.”
Dorian nods and watches as Fearne studies his notes to copy some of them down into her notebook. He tries to imagine a world without clocks and immediately gets anxious at the prospect of always being late.
In the last twenty minutes of the lecture, they actually get to play their instruments.
“You play beautifully”, Fearne says after listening to Dorian play for a few minutes.
“Thank you! Your music is really different from what I know. It’s interesting.”
Fearne beams at him.
“Maybe we could make some music together some time?”, she asks.
“I would like that, yeah.”
*
Dorian isn’t bad at making friends, he’s just not as good or fast at it as Dariax. Maybe that’s because he’s a little more selective about the people he hangs out with, but Dariax just seems to consider everyone he talked to more than once his friend.
Dorian never really had friends growing up, so he doesn’t consider himself an expert. But at least for him Dariax’ way doesn’t seem to be all that great.
So when Dariax asks: “Hey, do you wanna come hang out with me and my friends tonight?” Dorian feels less than inclined to say yes.
“Uh—I already have plans”, he lies, trying to figure out if he should try to convince Opal to spend the evening with him or if he should just take this opportunity to have some peace and quiet in his room.
“Aw, man. Too bad. We wanted to go skinny dipping in the gym’s pool”, Dariax says.
“Isn’t that off limits at night?”, Dorian asks, his brow furrowed as he looks at Dariax’ face that breaks into a wide grin.
“Yeah, that’s why it’s fun to go there”, he answers and winks at Dorian. Dorian feels his cheeks grow hot and swallows as his intestines suddenly feel the need to writhe around like living snakes.
“Oh, well—I’m not really a—uh. A rebel boy, as they say”, he says and laughs nervously. “You go and have fun, though.”
He tries not to picture Dariax completely naked in the dim, shimmering light of the campus’ pool but he fails miserably. His palms start sweating.
“Oh, don’t worry, I will, I will. But hey, maybe next time!”
“Uh—yeah. Maybe”, Dorian says weakly as Dariax saunters out of their room and closes the door behind him. Dorian stares at the locked door for way too long and he’s endlessly glad that no one can see him.
This doesn’t seem like a normal thing to invite someone to. When he went to college to learn how to be a bard, he envisioned parties, maybe some illegal weed smoking on a restricted rooftop, at the most.
He did not envision to be asked to get butt naked, break into a gym with a pool at night and go swimming with a bunch of—probably drunk—strangers he doesn’t even know the names of.
That was, of course, before he got Dariax as a roommate.
Now Dorian feels like he should be prepared for anything.
As Dorian grabs his lute and sinks down onto his bed he wonders if Fearne lives on campus or if she lives in the Feywild and somehow manages to travel here for every class that she has. That would explain the time thing, he supposes, because he learned that time works differently on other planes.
This is the first evening in what feels like weeks that he has the room just to himself. In between the pieces he plays on his lute he simply sits on the bed, enjoying the silence. When he opens the window the cool breeze from outside reminds him of home and he closes his eyes for a little while.
It smells like rain and autumn outside. Dorian turns to look at the small room that’s his now. It’s nothing compared to the big, bright room he had at home, but it feels special simply because this is the first time he gets to do what he wants with a space without anyone breathing down his neck.
There’s not much in the room aside from their desks, beds and the closet they share, but Dorian pinned a few posters and postcards over his bed for the very first time. His bed is unmade—something that his parents would have never allowed—and there are fairy lights dangling from the ceiling that he actually picked out himself.
The desk is covered in sheet music and books and for a few seconds Dorian looks at the small picture of his brother and himself that is sticking to his pencil holder, before turning his gaze at some of the articles he printed out yesterday.
He might actually get some homework done in this blessed quiet.
At least that’s what he thinks until his phone rings.
At some point Dariax must’ve stolen Dorian’s phone and taken a selfie to make it pop up every time he calls Dorian, because as his phone lights up Dorian can see Dariax’ dopey smile appear. Dorian ignores the rush of heat he feels as he looks down at the glowing display, reaches for his phone and picks up the call.
“Dariax?”
“Dorian, hey buddy!”
He definitely sounds drunk, which doesn’t surprise Dorian. But there’s an edge to his voice that makes Dorian nervous.
“What’s up, Dariax?”
“I—uh. Remember how I told you that we were going to go skinny dipping in the gym and everything?”
“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. It was like, three hours ago.”
“Cool, yeah. So the guys—“, and Dorian wonders who exactly ‘the guys’ are supposed to be, “were in a real funny mood. So. They stole my clothes and locked me in here—“
“They what?”
“I know, right? So… I tried to break open the lock, but I might be a little too drunk to get it right. And I was wondering—could you maybe bring me some clothes and get that door open for me?”
Dorian stares out into the night.
“How do you have your phone if they took all your stuff?”, he asks weakly.
“Had it with me in the pool to take some underwater selfies. It’s waterproof”, Dariax supplies cheerfully.
Dorian can see lights in the buildings all over campus and a crescent moon in the sky. He tries not to imagine what kind of pictures Dariax was trying to take of himself. Naked. In a pool.
“You want me to break open a door”, he repeats, just in case he misheard.
“I mean, kinda? Maybe? I really don’t wanna sleep in here. I slept in worse places, but it seems kinda shitty to wake up and immediately get into trouble for trespassing and all of that…”
Dorian isn’t sure if he wants to know in what kind of places Dariax has slept that count as worse as a college gym’s pool.
“But I guess I could just sleep in the showers or something.”
“I don’t really know how to get locks open”, Dorian sighs, but he’s already walking over to their shared closet. In theory, Dariax’ half is on the left, but he insists on just throwing all of his clothes in there without actually caring about which side they land on, so Dorian grabs some jeans, a hoodie and some underwear and stuffs it into his bag. He tries very hard not to look at the underwear too closely.
Dariax might not know what privacy is but that doesn’t mean that Dorian has to stoop down to the same level as his roommate.
“Fine. I’ll see what I can do”, he huffs.
“Aw, fuck yeah, you’re the best. I lo—“
“Bye”, Dorian calls and hangs up hastily before Dariax can finish.
His dreams of a quiet night dissipate into smoke as he throws the bag over his shoulder, grabs his keys, his jacket and his phone and leaves the room to head towards the gym.
Dorian, never in his life, has tried to open a lock with anything other than the key that was supposed to go into it. He doubts that he would manage to learn it in the heat of a moment so as he walks through the night, passing under a lantern every few steps he takes, he considers what he can do to get a locked door to open.
He is not strong enough to pry it open.
He has never learned how to do that trick with a credit card and isn’t sure if it would even work on this door even if he knew how.
There is no spell he knows that would be useful to open a door.
The only thing Dorian is good at is music and talking to people.
He makes his decision as he heads for the closest security guard patrolling campus at night.
“Excuse me, hi”, he says with the most honest and simultaneously nervous smile he can muster. The young man looks him up and down and seems to come to the conclusion that Dorian is worthy of his attention because his body turns towards him and offers a small smile back. He’s white withshort, brown hair, a long nose and arms full of tattoos.
“Can I help you?”, he asks.
“Well—this is so embarrassing. I—uh. I was in the gym earlier and I forgot my phone in there and my girlfriend wanted to call me tonight and I—uh. I already missed the last call so…”
He trails off as he tries to looks as bashful and stressed as he can—something that isn’t hard because Dorian still has to think about how Dariax is naked and probably dripping wet and how they’re most likely going to get into so much damn trouble.
“Oh wow, that sucks”, the security guard says and Dorian nods.
“Yeah, I’m—this is so dumb, I know you have better things to do, but… If you could just let me sneak in there for a minute and grab my phone? That would be a total life-saver, man”, he says and brings his hands up in front of his chest in a pleading gesture.
“Well, I guess we can make an exception. Don’t want to be the cause for trouble in paradise, right?”, he answers with a smile and Dorian forces himself to laugh.
“Thanks so much, I’ll drop off some cookies next time I see you around”, Dorian says and the security guard chuckles and makes a joke about bribery that Dorian doesn’t actually find funny but laughs about anyway. Since he officially ‘lost’ his phone he has no idea how to let Dariax know what his plan is.
All Dorian can do is hope that Dariax isn’t standing right behind the door butt-naked. Dorian supposes that he could always claim not to know him then—something that would only hold up for so long.
They walk towards the gym and Dorian can feel his heartbeat picking up.
What if he gets suspended? Kicked out? Sent home?
When they arrive in front of the gym everything is silent. Dariax is not banging on the door from the inside, calling Dorian’s name. Dorian decides to take that as a win as he nervously watches the guard fiddle for the master-key before opening the door.
“So, where did you leave your phone?”, the guard asks him and Dorian looks around hastily to see if he can spot Dariax anywhere.
“Uh—over on the benches, I’ll be right back!”, he says with an apologetic smile before rushing through the gym and towards the benches on the other side of the building.
“Dariax!”, he hisses into the darkness towards the corridor that leads to the locker-room and the pool.
“Hey bu—“
“Pscht. There’s a guard there. I had him open the door, you have to sneak out!”
Dorian starts crouching down on the floor and drops his bag so Dariax can reach it. He’s peaking his head out of the dark corridor and Dorian hopes that the security guard doesn’t spot him as he reaches his arm out towards the bag with Dariax’ clothes inside it.
“Did you find it?”, the guard calls over and Dorian can hear his footsteps coming closer. He hastily fishes for his phone and slides it under one of the benches.
“Not yet, it’s pretty dark in here”, he says. The rustling in the corridor next to him tells him that Dariax is hastily getting dressed.
“I have a flashlight, one sec”, the guard says and crouches down next to Dorian who feels bad for lying to the poor guy. He’s so friendly and forthcoming—Dorian decides that he actually has to get this man some cookies.
“Oh, there it is!”, he says and points to the left as the light of the torch reaches his phone.
“I’m afraid my arms too short to reach that”, the guard says and scoots back so Dorian can extent his arm and grab his phone. He tries hard not to look behind him to check if Dariax already made it out or not. He gets up, stuffs the phone into his pocket and dusts off his pants before turning towards the guard with an embarrassed smile.
“Man, thank you so much, this is really clutch.”
“No problem. I hope it works out with your girlfriend”, he answers and leads Dorian back towards the door.
“Thanks. If I see you again I’ll keep you posted!”
They step outside into the cool night air and Dorian can’t see Dariax anywhere. His heart is still beating rapidly in his chest and his palms are terribly sweaty. He wipes them off on his pants and decides that he needs a hot shower and his warm bed after this terrible disaster. His body feels as if he just ran a marathon.
So much for a quiet, peaceful night.
As soon as the guard leaves Dorian looks around frantically. If Dariax didn’t make it outside, there’s no way Dorian can convince this guy to open the gym up again without telling him the truth—something Dorian desperately does not want to do.
“Hey, over here!”
Dorian turns around and sees Dariax waving out of one of the bushes. His hair is wet and sticking to his forehead, his face is flushed and his eyes glassy, but he has a wide, reckless smile on his face that makes Dorian’s heart leap into his throat and press on his windpipe.
“What the fuck, man?”, Dorian hisses as he walks over to Dariax who gets up now, slightly swaying on his feet. There are some yellow leaves stuck in his auburn hair.
“Damn, buddy, that was awesome! You seriously have a velvet tongue, how did you even do that?”
“I asked nicely. What the actual fuck, Dariax? Why did your friends think that was a good idea?”
Dariax looks at him sheepishly and shrugs.
“Ah—to tell you the truth, I don’t know.”
“Sounds like they were fucking you over”, Dorian says and starts walking back towards the dorm. Some fine mist hangs between the trees, which look mostly black except for those who reach into the light of the street lamps. The orange and brown colored leaves remind Dorian of Dariax’ hair.
“Yeah. Sounds like it, huh.”
Dariax is quiet after that, something which Dorian, for some reason, finds even more disturbing than hearing Dariax’ sex-noises through a locked door.
“You okay?”, he asks after two minutes of walking in silence.
Dariax turns to look at him and the smile that appears on his face doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Yeah, sure. You know how it is, people just fuck you over. That’s how it works, I guess.”
“It doesn’t have to work like this”, Dorian says, his brow furrowed and his hands itchy to reach out and tussle Dariax’ wet hair for comfort. He doesn’t even know if Dariax wants to be comforted. Or wants to be comforted by Dorian specifically.
Dorian doesn’t even know why he feels the need to comfort Dariax, seeing as to how it’s his own fault for getting into such a situation in the first place.
“Hm, maybe. But I guess you showed up to save the day”, Dariax says, looking at Dorian thoughtfully.
“Yeah, I didn’t fuck you over”, Dorian agrees and holds open the door for them as they reach the dorm.
“Yeah. You didn’t. Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.”
*
The security guard’s name is Orym, he knows Fearne from taking some druid classes on the side on top of his fighter classes and he enjoys blueberry muffins.
“So, how did it go with your girlfriend?”, he asks while chewing on the muffin that Dorian handed him a few moments ago.
“We broke up”, Dorian replies with a gravelly voice and Orym pulls a face.
“I’m sorry, man.”
“Don’t worry about it. Thanks again for helping me with my phone.”
“It’s no problem at all. Thank you for this muffin.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you around.”
*
Dorian is pleased to find that the steady trickle of loud people that Dariax used to invite to their room before is thinning. He still goes out drinking and partying a lot, and he still has guests over to play Mario Kart or some horrible drinking game, but overall Dorian’s having more peace and quiet than ever before since he moved into this room with Dariax.
On a Wednesday night Dariax is sprawled out on his bed flipping through his phone. Dorian wonders if he’s going through his contacts, considering whom to call on for some. Well. Drinking or sex, probably.
Dorian hopes it’s not sex. And if it is sex, then for sex that is supposed to happen far away from here.
“How come you never go out?”, Dariax wants to know.
Dorian looks up from the sheet music he’s working on. He’s humming along quietly as he writes down, erases, writes down again and corrects the song he’s trying to write. He finds that he actually likes working in companionable silence, even though he didn’t think this would be possible with Dariax as his roommate a few weeks ago.
Dariax doesn’t seem to mind not talking as long as there is some sort of sound in the room—and Dorian’s humming apparently counts.
“How do you mean? I go out all the time”, Dorian says and looks up from his paper, cocking his head to regard Dariax who’s head is now hanging off of the side of the bed so he looks back at Dorian upside down.
“Yeah but like, partying. Drinking. College stuff, you know. You just hang out with the scary lady and she seems to like partying.”
“First of all, her name’s Opal. And I guess she can be kind of scary, but only if you’re a dick. And second of all, I hang out with other people! I met this very nice faun in my bard class and we’re making music from time to time. And—I don’t know. Partying is just not. Uh... It’s just not...”
Dorian sighs and leans against the wall behind him. The room is so scrappy that some of the wallpaper is coming down in little flakes in some places. He absentmindedly starts picking at his pillow.
“I never really went to parties before coming here. It’s just. I don’t know. New. I’m not like you. You know, with all the drinking and partying and—and uh. Sex. I guess.”
He can feel his ears burning and his cheeks heating up as he mumbles the end of his sentence. Dariax blinks at him and drops his phone on his face.
“Ow, fuck—okay. Wait. Are you saying that you’re a party-virgin and an actual virgin?”
“Oh come on, man, why do you have to say it like that? I’ve been to parties! But not—you know? College parties! And I never really drank alcohol before. It seems... I don’t know. Shifty.”
“Shifty”, Dariax repeats and a shit-eating grin spreads over his face, lighting up his eyes with a shimmer of mischief that Dorian finds very disconcerting.
“So you are a virgin.”
Dorian throws his pencil at Dariax and misses.
“So what? There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin! We can’t all walk around like you sleeping with people left and right!”
Dariax chuckles, obviously pleased with himself.
“Very true, I’m one of a kind. So, okay. But you kissed people, right?”, he wants to know.
“Why is that even relevant?”, Dorian hisses. He decides to throw his pillow next and Dariax almost falls off the bed trying to dodge it as he laughs.
“It’s not, I’m just curious! You’re always super uptight and mysterious, I know shit all about you and you’ve basically seen me banging someone at least twice!”
Dorian tries and fails to keep his poise as he flails his arms around.
“I could’ve lived happily without having seen any of that!”
“So that means you never kissed anyone?”, Dariax asks again, his grin wide and his eyebrows offensively wiggling. Dorian wishes he had some sort of cake that he could press Dariax’ face into.
“No, never. Are you happy now?”
“Would you like to kiss someone?”, Dariax wants to know and leans forward on the bed. He seems to have decided that sitting upright is the better choice in case Dorian decides to throw something else at him.
“I—I mean. I don’t know? I haven’t found the right person to kiss yet!”
“Ah, you’re one of those guys”, Dariax says with a wise nod that drives Dorian up the walls.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know? Like a romantic. True love and shit.”
“I wouldn’t—I. I haven’t really thought about it much. It’s not that important to me.”
Dariax pulls a face and nods, as if he understands perfectly what it means to not much care about kissing, sex or relationships. Dorian doubts that he actually understands with the frequency in which he drags people into his bed.
“I guess it’s not bad to wait for someone special”, Dariax concedes with a lopsided smile. “My first kiss was a total disaster, I didn’t know what I was doing at all and the dude told me it was like kissing a bowl of rice pudding.”
Dorian stares at him.
“That’s such a horrible thing to say”, he answers and Dariax shrugs.
“Yeah, I guess. He could’ve been nicer about it.”
Dorian’s brain is reeling.
Dariax had his first kiss with a guy. Dariax doesn’t only like women.
“Oh gods, I wish you hadn’t told me”, Dorian groans and presses the palms of his hands on his eyes until he sees little, colorful specs dancing on the inside of his eyelids. “What if I kiss someone I actually like and it turns out to be a completely terrible?”
He lowers his hands and stares at Dariax who stares back at Dorian with an intensity that surprises him.
“I mean. I guess you could just practice”, Dariax says.
“Oh yeah, sure. I’ll ask the first random person I meet in the hallway—“
“I would do it. Practice with you, I mean.”
Dorian blinks. He can feel the heat rising in his face and knows that his cheeks are turning purple.
“I—uh. That’s. Well. That’s very kind of you. But I’ll—I guess I’ll just figure it out on my own.”
Dorian chuckles nervously and glances back at Dariax who looks at him for a second longer before flopping back down onto his bed.
“Sure thing, buddy”, he says quietly and it’s probably just Dorian’s imagination that he sounds a bit disappointed.
*
“Dorian. Hey, Dorian!”
Dariax’ voice cuts through a dream about flying through space naked and Dorian opens his eyes. He is met with darkness and turns his head over to look towards Dariax’ side of the room. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust and the confusion and sleep to drain out of him.
“Huh?”
“Hey, sorry. I—uh. I kinda had—I kinda had a nightmare?”
“Sorry to hear that”, Dorian rasps and rubs at his eyes, “was it the one about the giant dwarven woman again?”
“Ah, no. Not this time. I—uh. Do you mind maybe just… I don’t know. Talking to me a little? Or, ah—humming? I would scoot over but your bed is probably a bit too small”, Dariax rambles and laughs nervously.
Dorian is too tired to get flustered about the prospect of cuddling with his roommate.
“You can scoot over. But don’t hog the blanket”, he mumbles and makes room in his tiny bed, pressing his back against the wall and lifting his blanket up, his eyes already falling shut again.
“Oh fuck yeah”, he hears Dariax whisper. There’s a rustling, the sound of naked feet on a wooden floor and then the mattress dips and Dariax climbs into bed with him, his body way warmer than Dorian expected it to be.
He’s wearing nothing but boxers.
“You sure this is okay?”, Dariax whispers into the dark and Dorian makes a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat before letting the blanket fall down over Dariax. His arms simply drops which is probably way too close to a hug in this position as they lie face to face on the mattress that was not made for two people to sleep on it.
“Thanks a lot, buddy. You’re the best”, Dariax whispers. Dorian knows that Dariax is pretty dense simply because he’s a dwarf, but while he drifts back off to sleep he feels the tension in Dariax’ body. This nightmare must have been deeply upsetting for someone as carefree and jovial as Dariax to ask for goddamn snuggles in the middle of the night.
Dorian starts humming. It’s faint and definitely not his best and probably not even a real song, but slowly, ever so slowly, he can feel Dariax relax beside him as they both fall asleep again.
What his sleepy brain did not account for when Dorian allowed Dariax entry into his bed was how they might wake up in completely different positions to the ones they fell asleep in and how his body was a mean betrayer set out to humiliate Dorian.
As he slowly comes back to consciousness Dorian realizes how incredibly warm it is. The next thing he notices is that there is a quietly snoring dwarf pressed against his side, one leg pushed over Dorian’s legs. Dariax, sometime during the night, has curled into Dorian so his nose is now pressed somewhere close to Dorian’s ribs. He can feel Dariax’ hot breath tickle his exposed skin.
This is the most skin-on-skin contact Dorian has ever had with someone who is not related to him.
Dariax’ arm is curled around his waist and Dorian has no idea how he’ll be able to get to the bathroom without waking Dariax up or alerting him to the fact that Dorian is suffering a terrible case of a morning boner.
Yeah, he definitely didn’t think this through when he allowed Dariax in here. If Dariax pulls his leg up a little more his thigh will absolutely come in contact with Dorian’s dick and he is not ready for that to happen.
Not even a little bit.
Dorian can’t help but notice that Dariax smells kind of nice. And the feeling of naked skin on naked skin feels so much better than he imagined it would. He should probably not think about skin on skin contact too much in his current predicament but Dariax decides that this is the right moment to move his leg.
Dorian makes an undignified noise in the back of his throat as Dariax’ thigh rubs against his erection and before he can really consider what his best course of action might be, he’s already shoving Dariax off of him.
Since these beds are tiny, that also means shoving Dariax off the bed.
There is loud thunk as Dariax hits the floor and bolts upright with a yelp, his hair tousled and untidy, his eyes barely open.
“I didn’t do it!”, he slurs loudly, holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender and Dorian can’t help but wonder what in the nine hells Dariax has been dreaming about.
“Sorry, man. You were—uh. Getting a little close”, Dorian says and sits up, carefully pulling the blanket over his crotch.
Dariax blinks up at him.
“Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”, he mumbles and sways to his feet to stumble back over to his own bed.
Dorian immediately misses the warmth and the feeling of naked skin against his but he pushes the thought away and clears his throat.
“Did you sleep okay after your nightmare?”, he asks.
“Hmhm. Like a baby”, Dariax mumbles into his pillow. His face is pressed into it and he didn’t even take the take to cover himself with his blanket. “You have the most beautiful voice.”
Dorian’s cheeks begin to burn and he grips the blanket tighter.
“Thank you.”
“’S no problem.”
Dorian glances over at his roommate. Dariax looks surprisingly peaceful like this and it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep again. The quiet snore returns and his mouth falls open slightly. When Dorian finally gets up to take a shower, he shivers slightly in the cold before carefully stepping over to the other bed and pulling the blanket over Dariax.
*
“You know what, I feel honored that you’re going to trust me with your first time”, Dariax says, looking endlessly pleased with himself.
Dorian sputters.
“Excuse m—“
“Your first time drinking, buddy”, Dariax explains and laughs as he sees the flush on Dorian’s cheeks.
They’re both sitting on Dariax’ bed—because Dariax doesn’t care about getting spots on his sheets at all—with a bottle of liquor that is bright red and looks a little radioactive.
“Well, I think I would just—uh. Prefer it… to try this out with someone I trust before I make a fool of myself in front of a whole party, you know”, Dorian says. When no answer comes, he turns his head to look at Dariax.
Dariax’ eyes are shimmering with something that Dorian can’t quite read but it makes his heart race in his chest. Dariax never looked at him like this before. His expression is almost soft with the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Glad to hear you trust me, Dorian. I trust you, too.”
Dorian clears his throat and looks away, the tension in the air between them suddenly too much for him.
“I am very trustworthy”, he jokes and grabs the bottle to unscrew it and smell the liquid inside.
“Ugh—it’s revolting”, he remarks and coughs a little.
Dariax chuckles.
“That’s how you know it’s good”, he says with a nod and gestures for Dorian to take the first sip.
Dorian has tried some champagne before, some beer. Some wine. But never more than half a glass. He never tried drinking any hard liquor and this stuff is burning his throat and sending heatwaves through his whole body immediately.
“Wow”, he coughs and hands the bottle to Dariax.
“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax says and
“It’s terrible!”
“Yeah”, Dariax says with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eyes.
“I don’t think a thing can be both good and terrible at the same time”, Dorian remarks, his face still in a grimace as he tries to get used to the burning sensation of hard alcohol in his throat.
“Nonsense, those are like, all of my favorite movies!”, Dariax says and takes a huge swig out of the bottle before handing it back to Dorian.
Dorian feels weirdly honored that Dariax decided to stay in on a Saturday night just to hang out with him and test the waters with his roommate while no doubt all his friends are out there partying.
“Like what movies”, Dorian wants to know and takes another careful sip out of the bottle. His mind provides him with the terrible thought that this might as well count as an indirect kiss, something that is entirely idiotic and not useful at all.
“Okay, so, you know when someone asks you a question about yourself and suddenly you have forgotten all of your interests and hobbies and favorites and pretty much everything about yourself?”, Dariax says, his brow furrowed as he tries to think of a movie that is both terrible and good at the same time.
“Tell you what. I can say that two of my favorite movies of all time are Pacific Rim and Mad Max, and those are not terrible, mind you, they’re just good. But if I manage to think of one that is both terrible and good, I’ll tell you immediately.”
Dorian has neither seen Mad Max nor Pacific Rim. When he tells Dariax as much his roommate looks aghast.
“Oh my gosh, Dorian. Buddy. My boy. That is—no. No, I can’t let this stand. Grab your laptop, we’re watching Pacific Rim right now”, Dariax orders and looks at Dorian expectantly.
This is how Dorian ends up crying about giant robots. And maybe also brothers.
Dariax hands him a tissue and sniffs.
“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax asks and empties the bottle as the end credits start rolling. Dorian nods and watches as Dariax throws the empty bottle to the side before pulling out a second one from under his bed.
Dorian is definitely tipsy. He drank way less than Dariax, of course, but he can feel a faint buzzing in his head and his vision seems to be slowed. There is a feeling of heaviness in his legs as he accepts the new bottle—this time the liquor is bright blue and tastes even worse—and drinks.
The new sensations in his body aren’t unpleasantly.
In a way, his soul feels lighter like this, less anxious, less unsure about things, which is pretty nice.
“So, what’s your favorite movie?”, Dariax wants to know.
“I—hm. I don’t know. I’m not much of a movie guy. I suppose I liked Lord of the Rings when I watched it a few years ago”, he says, thinking about the movies he has seen and which ones he enjoyed the most. Weirdly enough it’s exactly as Dariax said—now that someone asked about what he likes, Dorian can’t seem to remember much about himself.
“Good choice”, Dariax says with an approving nod that makes Dorian feel weirdly pleased.
“I guess we could totally do a Lord of the Rings marathon, you know? Get some snacks, order pizza, get fucked up. Hey, we could make it a drinking game!”
Dorian isn’t sure why there’s a tingling sensation under his skin, or why his heart starts beating faster in light of Dariax’ suggestion. Maybe it’s because he feels happy that Dariax wants to spend more time with Dorian. Maybe it’s just because the alcohol is getting to Dorian.
“What about your other friends?”, Dorian asks.
“What about them?”
“Well—wouldn’t you rather spend more time with them? You know—partying. Going skinny dipping. That sort of thing.”
Dorian knows that he’s fishing for compliments. He knows and he feels embarrassed about it but he can’t stop. Validation is something that he craves way too much for his own comfort, but the alcohol has lowered his defenses—or raised his stupidity. Either one of those.
“Well—you know when we went skinny dipping and they fucked me over, that was like. Not cool? And you got me outta there, even though you don’t really do that sorta thing, you know? So—that was not the first time I got fucked over by people I called my friends, but it was totally the first time someone bailed me out of stuff. So yeah. I’d rather stick with you, if that’s alright with you”, Dariax says, taking a few long gulps from the bottle of blue liquid.
Dorian feels a rush of heat under his skin. It’s not unusual for him to feel strongly about being praised or validated, but it usually doesn’t hit this hard.
He swallows and laughs nervously, grabbing the bottle from Dariax and taking a big sip that burns his throat.
“Yeah—yeah, alright”, he croaks and Dariax beams at him.
“I’m sorry, by the way. That—uh. That those people left you behind”, he adds quietly and hands the bottle back to Dariax.
“Oh, you know. I suppose it’s on me. I’m not very smart and I’m not good on my own, so I tend to follow people’s leads and they—uh. I guess they get bored with me, or something? Anyway. It’s not really important. Hey, how do you feel about watching Mad Max, too?”
*
“Hey, my friend is throwing a party on Saturday. Do you want to come?”
“Are you kidding? Do I wanna take your partying virginity? Hell, yes!”
“Dariax...”
“Sorry buddy, I got carried away.”
*
Dorian is still thinking about rice pudding on Friday.
The fact that somewhere out there is a person who would tell someone else something mean like this makes him nervous to try and kiss anyone. What if he actually likes the person he’s kissing and gets told that his kisses feel like a bowl of rice pudding?
Or worse, something even slimier?
He’s trying to get another song for one of his bard classes done, but he’s unable to concentrate.
“Hey, Dariax”, he says and looks over at Dariax who’s watching cat videos on YouTube, “can I ask you something? About—uh. About... kissing?”
Dariax looks up at him with bright eyes.
“Sure”, he says and grins.
Dorian swallows.
“Uh—I was thinking. How—uh. How did you get better at kissing? Did you practice with anyone?”
“Nah, not really. I mean, not like that. I just went for it again and again until I got better at it. Guess it would’ve been nice to have someone around for practice, but I made it work anyway. No one’s been complaining for a while now.”
Dorian chews on his bottom lip and pokes the paper he’s working on with a pencil.
“So—uh. You said—“
“Yes”, Dariax shoots back immediately, as if he knows what Dorian is going to say next. Dorian feels the familiar heat rise up in his chest as he looks at his roommate who seems very intense all of a sudden, leaning forward and shutting his laptop, his eyes fixed on Dorian.
“I—uh. I don’t. I don’t really... I don’t like... guys?”, Dorian says and his voice sounds way too hoarse in his own ears. Dariax’ shoulders sag a little but he shrugs.
“Doesn’t really matter for this, right? It’s just kissing.”
“Right. Okay. Uh—so. If I—if I wanted to try this... how do you—how do we make this work?”, he asks.
His heart is beating so fast, Dorian is afraid it’s going to break his rib cage and fly out of the window. Dariax puts his laptop to the side and pats the mattress beside himself, his eyes still fixed on Dorian’s face with an intensity that makes heat pool in Dorian’s lower abdomen.
He pushes the feeling aside and gets up from his own bed to sit down next to Dariax.
“I know what this is about”, Dariax says with a sly grin.
“Uh—you do?”
Dorian doesn’t know what this is about aside from his own nagging sense of anxiety and the fact that he can’t stop thinking about kissing Dariax—which is entirely Dariax’ fault because he offered this whole practicing thing in the first place.
“Yeah. You’re going to check out some ladies on that party tomorrow”, Dariax says, his grin widening as he scoots closer to Dorian. Dorian can feel Dariax’ body heat and he presses his back against the wall, his fingers digging into the blanket crumpled below his legs.
“Ah—yeah. You got me”, he lies and laughs nervously. Dariax winks and gives him fingerguns.
“Don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha! I’ll be the best wingman ever. Here, just lemme—“
And Dariax climbs into Dorian’s lap, straddling him, his face so close to Dorian’s that Dorian can feel his breath on his cheek.
He holds his breath as he notices all the freckles on Dariax’ face, his scruffy beard, his hazel-brown eyes...
His heart is stumbling in his chest.
“Thanks”, he rasps.
“No need to be nervous, I’m sure you’ll be way better at this than I was the first time around. Just lemme take the lead, okay?”
Dorian nods.
If he gets hard now, Dariax will definitely feel it.
Fuck.
Dariax raises his hands and tilts Dorian’s chin up while his other hand gently cups Dorian’s cheek. It’s already almost too much for Dorian. His lips open slightly and his eyes widen as Dariax gets closer still, his nose gently touching Dorian’s.
“If you want me to stop, just smack me real hard”, Dariax whispers and his breath tickles Dorian’s lips before the distance between their mouths is closed and Dariax is kissing him, his hazel-brown eyes closed.
Dariax’ lips are warm and a little chapped and Dorian gasps against his mouth helplessly—something that Dariax seems to take as encouragement. He tilts his head to the side to get a better angle and then his lips press against Dorian’s in earnest.
Dorian’s heart stops for a few seconds before restarting with doubled speed.
His whole body seems to be on fire all of a sudden and he can’t help but raise his hands to touch Dariax—just touch him anywhere. He needs to ground himself, hold onto something, or he might just get lost in the feeling of Dariax’ warm lips carefully moving against his.
It’s a slow kiss, almost sweet, but Dorian’s skin is set aflame.
I don’t like guys, he thinks as his whole body decides that he must get closer to Dariax, wrap his arms around him, pull him in, cup the back of his head so he doesn’t move away—
“This okay?”, Dariax mumbles against his lips and he sounds so out of breath as if he just sprinted a whole mile.
“Yeah—I. Yeah.”
“You wanna try with tongue?”
Dorian swallows. There is still heat pooling in his abdomen. He should say no. He should stop doing this. This feels dangerous and stupid.
But it also feels so good.
“Yeah, okay”, he whispers.
Dariax doesn’t wait for another invite, he immediately leans forward again to close the distance between them and as Dorian’s hands dig themselves into the back of Dariax’s shirt and his heart starts racing even faster Dariax slides his tongue into Dorian’s mouth and Dorian’s mind goes blank.
There is a sound that is dangerously close to a moan and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s coming from him.
He holds onto Dariax like a drowning man before he manages to kiss back.
The second their tongues slide against one another there is a sound from Dariax too, one that shoots directly into Dorian’s lap. His hips buckle up involuntarily, his arms wrap around Dariax tighter and Dariax presses closer, his hips grinding down against him.
Dorian is lost.
And he’s so, so fucked.
It feels so incredibly good to kiss Dariax. He forgot why he even started kissing him, all he knows that he doesn’t want to stop, that he wants to get closer, wants to touch more skin—
He’s hard by now, and so is Dariax. Dorian can feel his erection through the jeans that Dariax is wearing.
Dorian buries his hands in Dariax’ hair and pulls. Dariax makes a helpless sound and bites down on Dorian’s bottom lip before sucking on it lightly and Dorian is afraid that he might come in his pants just from kissing and the delicious friction of Dariax’ crotch rubbing against his.
Shit, shit, shit, shit—
Before Dorian can make a fool of himself Dariax pulls back.
He’s panting, his eyes are glassy, his lips red and wet from kissing and he looks so pretty, Dorian is momentarily stunned by the revelation that he might not be into girls or guys or pretty much anyone.
But he’s definitely, terribly, irrevocably into Dariax.
Fuck.
“S—sorry”, Dariax gasps and clambers off of Dorian’s lap. “That was—I’m. I—uh. I got carried away a little. Didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries.”
Dorian swallows and stares at him, his eyes wide and his heart pressing against his rib cage.
“It’s okay”, he rasps. “I—uh. I got a little carried away, too.”
Dariax throws him a lopsided smile.
“Well. I’d say you’re good to go.”
And he gets off the bed and stumbles over to the bathroom, leaving Dorian behind with a rapidly beating heart, tingling lips and the revelation that he has the world’s worst crush on Dariax.
#doriax#critfic#exu fic#critical role#dariax zaveon#dorian storm#exandria unlimited#exu#fanfiction#screeching into the void#text#this has an M rating on ao3 jsyk#we have ~9k of practice kissing/college au magical realism here my guys#dorian#dariax
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