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rollingsins · 1 year

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in the interest of spontaneity

summary: Wednesday invites reader up for a ‘study session’. Of course, being Wednesday, the invite is literal.

pairing: wednesday x fem!reader

warnings: (+18), language, smut, cunnilingus, top!reader, bottom!wednesday.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: request for anon who asked for bottom!wednesday during her writing hour. requests are open, let me know what you want me to write next!

When Wednesday had invited you up to her bedroom for a ‘study session’, this wasn’t exactly what you’d had in mind.

You’d pictured the two of you tangled up under her sheets. Kissing, a lot of kissing. Clothing optional - no - clothing prohibited. You’d make the most of your time alone with her. Maybe you’d do that thing with your tongue, just the way she likes.

Instead, she sits at her desk, madly typing while you lay in her bed alone.

You stare up at the ceiling, listen to the clicking of the keys as she hits the typewriter. Really, you should have known better. You’d been dating Wednesday long enough to know she was more than quite literal. Still, it doesn’t dissuade the wild thoughts running through your mind as you look at her.

She’s beautiful, as always. Pale skin, dark hair, tied neatly in braids. You want her. You’ve been thinking about her all day.

You clear your throat, trying to be subtle.

Her fingers skate madly across the keyboard, undeterred. Maybe a little too subtle.

You clear your throat once more.

She pauses. Looks over at you with only the mildest irritation.

“Thing, I think YN needs a glass of water.”

Thing scurries across the ground and slinks out the door, no doubt to heed his mistress’ request.

“Wednesday.” You say, “Baby. Don’t you think it’s time for a break?”

She flinches at the endearment. Doesn’t look away from her typewriter.

“I don’t take breaks.” She informs you. “Breaks are for weak-minded writers whose work will never and should never see the light of day. ”

She pauses, looks back at you.

“And infantile nicknames will get you nowhere.” She says.

You sigh. Fall back onto the bed. It was like this sometimes. Dating Wednesday. You loved her, but she couldn’t take a hint to save her life.

“I just thought we were going to… ” You trail off, hoping you don’t have to spell it out.

She turns around, stares at you piercingly.

“You thought I was inviting you up for intercourse?” She says. She looks a little baffled. “I very clearly stated this was a study session, did I not?”

“No, you did.” You hum. “I just thought… never mind.”

Her hands hover over her typewriter, contemplating.

“I have to practice my Cello at four.” She says, not taking her eyes off you. “Perhaps we could schedule coitus for tomorrow evening. Enid will be with Ajax.”

“Wednesday, I don’t want to schedule our sex life.” You groan, “It’s supposed to be romantic. Spontaneous. And please stop calling it coitus.”

She blinks back at you.

“I will never understand your aversion to calling these things by their proper name.” She mutters. She goes back to her typewriter, “As I said, Enid will be out of the room by five tomorrow afternoon. If you want to be spontaneous then, I shall be here.”

You bite your lip. Half consider leaving. She was so annoying about her writing. Rigorous. Like a dog with a bone. But that was also the way you were about her. You stand, walk over to her. She tenses at your hand on her shoulder.

Then, you drop down to your knees and shuffle yourself under the desk.

Wednesday stares down at you.

“What are you doing?” She asks, body stiff.

“Being spontaneous.” You smile up at her. Nudge her knees apart, just wide enough so you can slot yourself between them.

“YN, my writing time-”

“Is very important.” You assure. You press your lips to her knee, “I wouldn’t want to interrupt. Please, keep going.”

Her panties are black, as usual. You work your way up to them, dotting warm kisses between her thighs, not wanting to neglect either one of them. Her hands are rigid on her typewriter, body tense. You can almost hear the cogs churning in her head as you hook your arms around her thighs, pulling her a little closer.

“On second thought, my hands are beginning to tire. I wouldn’t want to strain them before Cello practice.” Wednesday says, her voice a little higher than usual. “Perhaps we could move to the bed.”

You shake your head, press your lips to the cloth of her panties. She shivers.

“You need to write, you said it yourself.” You say, smirking into her. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt. Please, continue.”

“How can I continue when you’re-“ Her legs squeeze tight around your torso as you brush your tongue over her clothed center. “Doing that.”

“I’m afraid the only way I’ll continue doing that is if you’re writing.”

“YN.”

“Wednesday.”

You bring your hands up to cup her thighs, soothe her with a gentle kiss as you drag her panties down her legs.

“Be a good girl for me. And write.”

You hover over her, waiting.

She hesitates a moment. Then, you hear the clack of the keys as her fingers hit the typewriter.

You smile, satisfied, then dip down and press your lips to her center.

She tastes as amazing as ever, bitter, but in the kind of way that left your mouth salivating, wanting more. You tease your tongue over her folds, enjoying the way her body responds under you. Swirl your tongue up to her clit, slow, purposeful. Just the way she likes.

Wednesday doesn’t ever moan, not really. She’s all breathy sighs and tiny noises. You elicit one now, the moment your lips wrap around her clit, sucking ever so softly. You’re rewarded by a fresh wave of desire, that gorgeous bittersweet honey you can’t get enough of. You can’t resist lapping it up, greedy for her.

Her body is tense, her thighs locked tight around your head. When you feel her hand in your hair, you’re drawn out of your lust-filled reverie, realizing she’s abandoned her typewriter.

“I’m not hearing any writing.”

“YN, you can’t be serious. I am completely incapable of writing a coherent sentence when you’re-”

You nip her inner thigh with your teeth. Abandon the place she needs you the most. The place you want the most.

She stares down at you, piercing eyes, but you don’t budge. You don’t move a muscle.

Begrudgingly, she continues.

You smile, reward her by kissing your way back to her center. You lap a little, teasing, dipping your tongue between her folds, coiling it around her entrance. Arousal rushes through you at the way she spreads her legs wider, unconsciously giving you better access. She’s being so good, fingers madly typing, just like you’d asked. You kiss her thigh once more and work your lips around her clit.

She likes it slow, meaningful licks, gentle sucking. Her breathing is labored, the clicking of her typewriter is becoming erratic as you suck her clit into an orgasm.

She cums with a tight, breathy gasp. You suck her clit a little longer, then lap up the rest of her juices, not wanting to waste a drop.

You rub her bare thighs, press a final kiss to her swollen folds before you’re clambering out from under her and standing, licking her off your lips.

She’s slumped slightly in her seat. You wrap your arms around her from behind, press a long kiss to her head.

“Good girl.” You murmur. Look over to see what she’s written for you.

Your eyebrows furrow. It’s the same word, typed over and over and over.

“You just typed my name over and over?” You look over at the pages, mouth agape.

Wednesday shrugs.

“You told me to write, you didn’t specify the subject matter.”

She’s always one step ahead of you, you both love and hate it about her. It’s impossible to be mad when she’s like this. Soft, sensitive from her orgasm. You press your lips against her neck.

“You’re an evil genius.”

She sits a little taller, like she’s proud of herself.

“Thank you.”

You link your arms around her waist, press your face against hers. It wasn’t often she allowed you to show affection like this, certainly not in public, and almost always in this sweet, sleepy state she got into after you’d made her cum. She doesn’t allow it for long. She sits up ever so slightly, holds her hands above her typewriter.

“Now. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go back to my writing.”

You stare. Blink a few times.

“What about me?”

She looks up at you, seemingly innocent. You know her better. She’s taunting you. Trying to take back the upper hand.

“I shall see you tomorrow afternoon at five, where neither party is forced to parry words in exchange for an orgasm.”

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief, “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.” She confirms, turns her attention back to her typewriter, “Then we shall engage in proper and rigorous coitus.”

“Don’t call it that.”

“Intercourse.”

“Don’t call it that, either.”

“What would you like me to call it?” She looks up at you, her stare a little blank.

“Sex? Fucking? Lovemaking?”

She wrinkles her nose. Disgust clouds her features.

“How about intimacy?”

You sigh, a little defeated. “Sure. It’s better, I guess.”

She nods, firm.

“I shall see you tomorrow at five for intimacy.”

Your stomach coils. You’re still turned on, uncomfortably so. And she knows it. Your girlfriend is evil. You sigh, flop back onto her bed. Hear the beat of her fingers against the typewriter.

“Fine.” You say, a little dramatically, “But you know, tomorrow is a long way away. Guess I’ll have to take care of myself while I wait.”

She stills. The clack of her fingers against the typewriter stops.

You resist the urge to smirk. Draw your hand down your body, slipping it down past the waistband of your jeans and into your underwear. Sigh gently at the wetness that awaits you.

“You can keep writing, this won’t take long.”

She turns eagle-eyed, stares as she watches you touch yourself.

Got you, you think, victorious at the way her lips part, only slightly. Her eyes, impossibly dark.

You tilt your head back, present your neck, the way she likes. Let out a low sigh.

She blinks back at you. You watch her turmoil.

Then.

“I suppose my writing can wait until tomorrow. In the interest of spontaneity.”

“Hmm.” You murmur as she climbs on top of you, presses her lips against yours in a searing kiss. Her hand slip into your pants, “Sure. In the interest of spontaneity.”

#wednesday #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday x fem!reader #wednesday addams

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drewstarkeys · 3 years

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"Paper" Rings : Toni Shalifoe

Summary: Very loosely based around Paper Rings from Miss Taylor Swift! In which the reader and Toni have feelings for each other but are too afraid and too oblivious to truly admit them to each other. It gets pretty fluffy at the end!!

Word Count: 2.2K

Request(s): “Hi! Can I request Toni (the wilds) crushing on a dense reader when they are stuck on the island? 👉🏼👈🏼” and “Can I request some the wilds/toni fluff? Im fine with anything as long as it ends somewhat happily,.....”

Warnings: mentions of edibles, drunk reader/girls/Toni.

A/N: I finally got out of writer’s block so I am back! I also tried to combine two requests as I thought they went together nicely! Hope you all enjoy :)

The moon is high.

Like your friends were the night that we first met

You didn’t know it yet but that day on the island when you and the rest of the girls got high off of edibles, Toni realized just how much she liked you. Maybe it was the way your smile only seemed to grow bigger as the day went on, or maybe it was the way you couldn’t help but say the worst possible pick up lines to Toni, but something you were doing that day had her whipped. She hated it and loved it at the same time because she was so scared of how you would react to her strong feelings towards you.

The two of you were a “thing” but the term was loosely used in replacement of girlfriends. It was hard to decide exactly what you two should be when survival wasn’t even promised. On the other hand, if it was promised, what would happen when you went back to your ordinary lives? Would you forget each other and slowly go back to your old regular lives or would you try and make the distance work. Those questions had been left unanswered, which tormented the both of you.

Some of the other girls on the island had tried to trap you into confessing just how much Toni meant to you or vice versa, but you and Toni knew better, you were on an island and admitting your strong feelings would only complicate whatever was going on between the two of you. The nights spent alone in different corners of the island and empty promises shared between the two of you were nice, but it was more wishful thinking than anything realistic for the time being. That didn’t stop the two of you allowing yourselves to get close and let down your walls, even sharing your deepest secrets and fears with each other- something that almost seemed easier if you two never saw each other again.

You knew the way she felt like she was too hard to love and that she thought that her anger scared everyone away, but you didn’t agree with her. Maybe it was your own temper, which wasn’t nearly as bad as hers, but you weren’t worried by it. You had told her that you didn’t care that she got out of control, citing your reasons as being that control was difficult for everyone and you would be a hypocrite to judge her control issues when you knew how hard control was.

She knew about how you worried about running from your feelings again and completely shutting everyone out. You had done it more than once and in the back of your mind, you were convinced you would do it again. It was your defense mechanism to keep yourself from getting hurt- but it negatively affected those around you- which you couldn’t bear to hate yourself for. She told you that she wouldn’t let you leave her, that she was too stubborn to let you leave her, especially if the two of you were stuck on the island for however long. It provided you comfort for the time being, but just like her fears, yours weren’t fully dissipated either.

The wine is cold

Like the shoulder that I gave you in the street

Cat and mouse for a month or two or three

Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe

That’s just how the two of you worked- you would have deep conversations in the woods of the island and hold onto each other when the woods got cold as the sun went down, but that was the most of it. Neither of you could deny that something was going on between you two, but you couldn’t quite bring yourselves to admit your real feelings for the other one. It was embarrassing almost, the high school type cat and mouse game in which you both chased the other one but would never fully give in- it felt like every shitty romcom ever- well maybe without the happy ending.

That cat and mouse game continued for the following weeks of you all being on the island, which frustrated the others to no end. They could see the way you two looked at the other one when they weren’t looking and they could see the kisses in the woods that you thought you were being secretive about. Fortunately for them, and the two of you, the girls had devised a plan to further the relationship between you and Toni. A plan that only needed one thing, copious amounts of alcohol.

Thankfully for them, you were already pouring alcohol into your mouth by the time the sun set. All it took for your actions was a simple suggestion from Martha, she had asked you to get drunk with her and a few of the other girls and you had eagerly agreed, excited to finally have a reason to let loose on the island. The liquid stung the back of your throat as you shared the bottle with Martha and Fatin, but you could care less- you didn’t need chasers in school so why would you need them now?

Despite your lack of need for a chaser, your tolerance was embarrassingly low- or perhaps you just always drank too much. Unfortunately for you, that led to you sitting next to Toni and offering her a drink from the bottle in your hand, insisting that she wasn’t nearly as drunk as you were, in Toni’s defense, no one was as drunk as you were. However, your puppy eyes were too good for Toni to say no to, so of course, she was drinking to get caught up to your level, hoping it would help her relax just as much as you were.

The night carried on quickly with different dance battles, a little bit of night swimming- to which Dot had freaked over the idea of you or Shelby getting eaten by a shark, and even sand castle competitions. All of these ideas came from you who happened to be letting every single idea slip past your lips with a lack of any filter at all.

You suddenly jumped up off of the sand you had been resting on and looked around the group, a big smile covering your face, “I need to pee!” You announced, earning a few giggles from the girls that had ended up nearly as drunk as you were. You then looked down to Toni, pulling at her hand to get her to stand up with you, “and you’re going to come with me!” You added, not noticing the way Toni gulped nervously or the way the other girls seemed to be watching the two of you as if you were their favorite movie. Instead of responding, Toni just nodded, an uneasy smile on her face as you dragged her towards a darker corner of the island.

You walked a few feet in front of Toni, painfully oblivious to the way she seemed to be deep in thought. Toni was busy trying to keep her lips sealed tight despite the alcohol in her body begging them to part and let out her feelings for you. Her speech she had practiced a few days ago was dangerously close to falling out past her lips and thus, she would reveal how she felt. The one problem was that she didn't want to say it drunk, especially when she didn’t know how you felt. Despite your relationship between the two of you, Toni couldn’t help but think about how you called yourself a player, telling Toni how you wished you weren’t one- but you just couldn’t quite seem to keep feelings for anyone.

Toni was so deep in thought that she hadn’t realized when you stopped moving to stare at her. “I don’t have to pee,” you suddenly mumbled, catching Toni’s attention with your words. Her eyes crinkled in confusion but you just smiled in response, “I just wanted to spend time with you alone. “ You admitted, something you wouldn’t have said so easily if you had been sober.

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

You could almost see the slight blush on Toni’s face in the dark, a mix of alcohol and you creating that reaction on her face. “You did?” She asked, her voice coming out a lot weaker than she intended for. She hated how weak you made her, like she could be ruined by the wrong set of words coming from your mouth.

You nodded your head quickly and pulled her down onto a rock, “sit here. I wanted to show you something.” You mumbled, holding onto her shoulders as you spoke to her, your glassy eyes meeting her own. While your nerves were completely gone, Toni’s heart was still racing, something you had yet to notice.

You walked, or skipped, off towards a bush, not caring about anything except for your current plan for what you were going to do. It was honestly quite bold but you couldn’t stop thinking about it and if you didn’t do it, you would be upset with yourself. So, without a second thought, you plucked a long piece of grass from the ground and brought it back to her, nearly letting out a laugh at how confused she looked.

Before she could question what you were doing, you spoke up, “wait, don’t say anything just yet. I need to say something.” You said, watching her for her agreement before you carried on. “You know that Taylor Swift song that is like ‘I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper rings’? Well I was thinking about that song and you make me feel like that. Like not marriage obviously, I’m not even eighteen yet, but like we’re here. On an island. And despite all the scary things and bad ideas- you’re the only thing that matters. Like I could care less about if we never get off this island, I’m just happy I met you.” You rambled, nerves and alcohol leading to the slurred and messy speech you had just told to her. “I like you, Toni, a lot.” You paused, looking down at the piece of grass in your hands, “I guess this is like, I don’t know, a promise almost? That I actually like you and that I’m not gonna run away from my feelings anymore.”

You paused, your heart rate finally becoming noticeable to yourself and you suddenly felt insanely sober from your actions. You felt as if you had just let her break down all of your walls and you were quite frankly terrified of how she would react. “Can I stand up now?” She asked, a smile on her face, which drove you crazy.

“That’s it? I say all that and you ask if you can stand up?” You asked, not even knowing how to feel, you hadn’t even noticed your arms were flailing as you questioned her until she grabbed both of your wrists and pulled them down, using them to pull you a little bit closer to her.

She still hadn’t said anything yet but the two of you were inches apart and you wanted to throw up. Or maybe it was just a feeling of panic settling in your chest, what if you had gone too far with what you said? You had been known to jump into feelings too quickly but you felt as if she could be there too.

Before you could speak up again and question her once more, she let go of one of your wrists and planted her hand softly on the side of your face, her eyes scanning your own before she leaned in and gently pressed her lips to yours. The two of you had kissed before but this was different, you were finally allowed to feel everything you were feeling, you could finally show her how much you liked her. Your free wrist dropped to her waist as you pulled her closer, not letting her pull away just yet. The two of you stayed like that for a second, just taking each other in and enjoying the moment of peace.

She pulled away with a soft smile on her face and a mysterious glint in her eyes as she backed off and went over to the spot where you had once been. You could see her pick up her own piece of grass and walk back over to you and smiled again, “then I promise to actually stop worrying and just let myself like you. Because I do like you,” she paused, “like I like you a lot.” And with that, she took the piece of grass and tied it around your ring finger, “so instead of getting married with paper rings, we’re uh- dating? With grassy rings.” She said, finishing the knot around your finger and looked up to you expectantly, “well if you want.”

You grabbed her other hand and worked on tying the grass around her finger, looking back at her and nodding, “yeah, I’d like that.” You answered, feeling heat rush to your cheeks at how intimate the moment had become.

#toni #toni imagine #toni shalifoe imagine #toni x reader #Toni the wilds #toni shalifoe #toni shalifoe x reader #the wilds #the wilds on amazon prime #the wilds imagine #the wilds imagines #wlw imagine #fluff #toni fluff

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toxicjayhoe · 3 years

Text

Maximum Decibels

Shinsou Hitoshi/Reader (Some description of OC)

Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia)

Concerts

Song fic

Explicit Sexual Content

Some Plot ish?

Alcohol

One night stand

Word count : 3000

Songs in this fic : You'll be fine by Palaye Royale I don't feel quite right by Palaye Royale

If he hadn’t been wearing earplugs, he was sure the noise blaring from the low-quality speakers to his right would have blown out his ear drums. Thankfully, Shinso wasn’t an amateur. He lived for his Friday and Saturday nights out.

Music was a big part of his life, just like most people, he assumed. He wasn’t much of the type of person to go out to big venues and rather preferred to go to see and support local bands that played in small, overcrowded bars.

He had never liked crowds, but they seemed easier to manage emotionally in seedy local venues. Physically, not so much.

Another black clothed mosh pitter was dramatically thrown from the pit and headed his way. It was common courtesy to just push them back in.

As with any show, it was impossible to escape the movements of others, shoulders and elbows bumping him as they swayed to the music or a hand on the back as they made their way to the front of the stage, hoping for a better view.

Shinso didn’t care about the view. He just wanted to stand there, lean against the wall behind him, and let the music wash over him, let it drown out all of his worries and anxieties.

The opener for the night said their thanks as they finished the last song of their set. The crowd hollered and screamed their appreciation before the horde scurried off like cockroaches towards either the bar, the bathroom or outside for a smoke.

A sigh left his lips as his shoulders relaxed before stretching his arms over his head, walking over to sit on the edge on the stage as the next band began setting up their gear.

Purple eyes scanned the darkly lit room, pausing on the small groups that remained on the lower floor, analyzing but not judging.

Everyone looked similar. Dark clothes, bright hair. He wasn’t much different. He stared at his old, dirty black boots. His favorite pair. Despite their age, the steel toes were still in perfect shape. He didn’t trust anything more than these boots.

His black jeans were ripped at the knees and, if they hadn’t been tucked into his boots, you could see the tears at the cuffs. His brow furrowed at the thought. He should probably get a new decent pair to replace them. He probably wouldn’t.

There were a few familiar faces, of course. He was here every weekend, and he wasn’t the only one. He didn’t talk to any of them, really. They had a silent understanding, nodding their greetings and nothing more.

Just the way he liked it.

The lights dimmed, announcing the start of the next band. He pushed himself up and walked back over to his wall as everyone started to pour back in.

He closed his eyes, intently listening to the melodies and beats. He wasn’t one to dance, but he lost himself to the music that day, allowing his head to bob to the rhythm.

Fridays were reserved for new bands to make their debut, while Saturdays were a mix of newcomers and the local classics.

He enjoyed getting acquainted with new sounds, but there was just something about recognizing a song with just the first few notes that made life worth living.

Tonight happened to be one of those nights. The bands started earlier and finished later. It was the one night of the week that he would come home exhausted and actually be able to get a full night's worth of sleep.

Saturdays were also the one night he would grab a few drinks of whiskey to accompany the thrum of vibrations coursing through his entire body. The alcohol just seemed to elevate the sensations while also allowing him to relax and enjoy his night more thoroughly.

Earplugs in and glass in hand, he leaned against his usual wall. Everyone was dressed much the same as usual and he was no exception. The only difference? He’d opted on a simple white t-shirt.

He found himself pushing his hair back as he scanned the faces in the crowd, his eyes lidded and his own expression passive. As usual.

A loud laugh caught his attention and his gaze darted to the offender. A flash of red hair, glasses and a crooked grin as the woman continued to laugh at whatever her friends were talking about.

It wasn’t a face he recognized, but it was one that he would remember. He tore his eyes away when he felt the familiar static in the air as the band began their sound check.

The second band had just finished their set and Shinso headed to the bar with the rest of the crowd for another glass of whiskey. He put it on his tab. He’d pay at the end of the night.

He took in his surroundings, much like he always did as he leaned on the bar while he waited for his drink. The place was much busier than usual, which made sense considering the line up. Some of his favorite locals were playing and he felt considerably lucky to experience them all play the same night.

In fact, the last band of the night had become fairly well known over the last few years and they were on tour in their hometown. He smiled at the thought. He remembered their first show.

His cup was placed by his arm and he nodded at the bartender in thanks. People had already begun to pile back in and he quickened his pace to stand in his usual spot. It was the perfect spot. Close enough to the stage that he wasn’t blinded by the mob jumping and far enough that he wasn’t completely trapped between sweaty bodies.

The familiar buzz of the mics being tested filled the room. Sipping the amber liquid, a small smile painted Shinso’s lips.

He was in for a wild night, he could tell with how rowdy the crowd was, shouting as soon the drummer began beating against the kick drum. Shinso tapped his foot to the rhythm.

As soon as he finished his third whiskey, his eyes caught a flash of yellow in the pit. Shinso dragged his gaze higher, from the hem of the patterned skirt and over a band shirt, red hair bouncing with the force of the woman’s movements.

Shinso stared as she sang with the band, her nose scrunched up and eyes closed, body swaying to the chaotic rhythm. Her every expression was exactly how he felt while listening to music, only he kept it in his heart instead of showing on his sleeve.

The brightness in her eyes when she opened them rivaled that of the sun’s.

He tore his gaze away and pressed his back into the wall.

And if he stole quick glances her way for the remainder of the song, he convinced himself it was just part of his routine; constantly scanning his surroundings. Analyzing and never judging.

Shinso never understood how bars had so few bathrooms. While the line for the boy’s bathroom was nowhere near as long as the girl’s, it still annoyed him.

Honestly, it should be illegal to have people waiting so long for a basic need.

Just as he’d made it to the front of the line, he caught sight of the pretty little redhead exiting the bathroom with her small group of friends. She was covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laugh, her arm linked with her multicolor-haired friend in the leather jacket.

He hadn’t noticed it was his turn for the bathroom until the guy behind him cleared his throat.

For some reason, Shinso had drinken far more than what he was used to. He was feeling rather good and very relaxed, a gentle smile plastered on his face, his eyes even more lidded than his norm.

His fingers tapped to the beat against his leg, eyes concentrated on whatever band they were on now. He couldn’t remember. He’d even left the comfort of his wall to get a better look at the stage. He only regretted it a little as more people bumped into him, a few almost knocking him over.

Shinso couldn’t remember the last time he felt this at ease in a crowd. Most likely never, if his memory served him right.

A more rough and up beat song was currently playing and the crowd was going absolutely wild, more and more people joining the center of the floor to jump and dance and push against the pit.

He changed his stance to have a bit more stability. He was glad he did, his arms instinctively reaching out as a small body collided with his, making him stagger.

Gazing down at the person in his arms, his breath caught in his throat as he hauled her up quickly.

She was even prettier up close.

The grin he received in thanks made his heart flutter, her hand squeezing his arm before she darted off into the pit again, disappearing from sight.

Shinso felt his legs moving of their own accord, towards the pit in an attempt to follow her.

I see it in those eyes

His eyes searched frantically in the horde, sweaty bodies pressing into him, moving him into one direction to the next. Shinso felt like he was in the ocean, the waves dragging him back and forth with a strength he couldn’t begin to comprehend.

You're so damn hypnotized

The lights from above the stage danced across them, illuminating the crowd long enough for him to catch a glimpse of red hair.

You wanted to pretend the voice you hear is not in your head

She was facing one of her friends, the tallest one of the three, the two of them grinning as they screamed the lyrics at each other, jumping in time with the crowd.

You wanted to escape, but you're not that innocent

Shinso couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that she seemed to know all the lyrics by heart, knew exactly when the pauses were and when the band would pick it up again.

Just stay for the show, don't turn around

His heart hammered in his chest.

I'm looking for you out there

He was unmoving, barely registering the bodies colliding with his, eyes still trained onto the group of friends as they bobbed their heads to the beat.

I’m looking for truth inside your stare

She had her back turned to him, but her friend with the dark hair did not. Their eyes locked for a moment before she looked away, quickly connecting the dots.

I’m looking for you outside

He could see her moving her lips, no longer singing the song before she motioned towards him. Ginger hair bounced as the redhead snapped her head his way.

'Cause I mean it, no, I mean it, you'll be fine!

The lights passed over the crowd again, allowing them to both see each other clearly. Recognition crossed her features.

I'm looking for you this way

She whispered something to her friends, and they both gave her exasperated looks, hands up in the air in a confused manner. Like they were arguing.

But you don't hear a word I say

Her eyes met his and he didn’t shy away from the intense gaze. It only pulled him forward.

I'm looking for you this time

Shinso saw as the two friends looked at each other, nodding before shoving the redhead towards him. He caught her in his arms again.

'Cause I mean it, yeah, I mean it, you'll be fine!

She was smiling up at him, heat rising on her cheeks at an alarming rate. He could no longer hear the music, just a faint buzz as everything else faded out.

Shinso had grabbed her by the wrist and gently dragged her to his spot at the wall. He could still hear the music but didn’t pay it much mind. He could still feel the vibrations coursing under his skin.

But nothing compared to the way his heart hammered in his chest, his purple eyes peering into hers. They were like sunbursts surrounded by chocolate brown.

His gaze traced down her face, connecting her freckles with his eyes, pausing when he reached an opal adorned nostril piercing, to the matching septum before he reached her cute pink lips.

His tongue darted out, wetting his own lips. Her eyes followed the movement.

Shinso shifted closer, practically towering over her as she watched him through her lashes. He wasn’t sure when he’d gotten so bold. Perhaps it was still the alcohol running through his veins.

Maybe it was whatever connection they seemed to have urging him on.

A new song came on, her eyes lighting up but never leaving his. He watched as she mouthed the words, sending electricity up his spine, heat coiling inside him.

I don't feel quite right

The curl of her lips.

There's something in the air tonight

The suggestion in the way she stared up at him.

Must be the way she's looking at me

Shinso mouthed them along with her.

Is there something wrong

She took a step forward.

Is there something wrong with me

Her hands on the center of his chest, his own arms circling around her waist.

I don't feel quite right

Their lips collided.

Nothing like this had ever happened to Shinso. He never believed he could go through with anything like this.

In fact, the thought had never really crossed his mind.

He fumbled with his keys when they reached his door, the concert completely forgotten.

It was a blur of deep kisses and hands roaming the other’s body with soft but insistent touches.

Pushing her red hair from her shoulder, Shinso dipped his head to her neck, all lips and tongue against salty skin.

Delicate fingers threaded through his hair, gripping tightly when his fingers slipped under her plaid skirt and up the back of her soft thighs, tracing the edges of her panties.

His hands tightened before he heaved her up, her teeth on his bottom lip and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

A soft gasp escaped her when he dropped her onto his bed.

Shinso didn’t move, just stared down at her with lidded eyes. She looked perfect, hair messy, lips swollen, legs spread apart for him like an invitation.

He gladly accepted, crawling between thick thighs, hands on her knees. He spread her wider.

Agile fingers unbuttoned his pants, pushing them lower on his hips before he took over, discarding them somewhere on the floor.

When his cock collided with her heat, they both moaned, hips grinding into each other.

Any doubt he’d had about his current situation flew out the window as he pressed his fingers to her clothed clit.

Her panties were soaked through.

Slowly, he rubbed her little bundle of nerves with two fingers, a third sneaking under the material to feel just how wet she was.

Shinso released a breath he didn’t know he was even holding, hand sliding completely under the fabric and pressing two fingers into her heat.

A different kind of music filled the room. Breathy moans, small whimpers and the wet sound of his fingers inside her. Shinso’s thumb danced rhythmically at her clit, keeping the pressure gentle yet persistent.

His free hand pushed up her shirt roughly just above her bra, exposing her to his hungry eyes.

Cupping one of her breasts firmly, he squeezed into the soft flesh over and over, loving how she filled his large hand perfectly.

Shinso squeezed her nipple through the material of her bra and was very glad he did as her pussy clenched around his fingers still working inside of her, and juices rushed out of her and all over his forearm.

He’d never experienced anything so hot in his life.

When he removed himself from inside her, he chuckled at the desperate whimper she made.

Shinso wasted no time discarding his boxers, pumping himself slowly and groaning as he stared down at her.

He didn’t even bother removing her panties, just pushed them to the side with his cock before sliding in to the hilt.

A new beat could be heard throughout his appartement as he pounded into her rhythmically, her moans urging him on. Deeper, harder, faster before slowing down again, building up the pressure in the pit of his stomach.

His hands gripped her hips as he lost himself in every sensation. The way she tightened around him, the look of her throwing her head back, the glimpse of lust and pleasure in her eyes sent heat from his chest to his dick.

He felt himself twitch inside her.

Shinso could feel she was approaching her crescendo. His hips rolled over and over, pressing onto her clit with every thrust, tempo increasing until her cunt spasmed around his cock, her back arching off the bed.

Shinso fell forward with his hands on either side of her head, eyes locked as he buried himself into her again and again. The look she gave sent Shinso over the edge as he pulled out, spilling himself all over her pretty little skirt.

The image of her would be locked into his core memories for years to come.

He rolled over and laid on his back as they both tried catching their breaths.

The room became quiet as she drifted off. Only then did he allow himself to glance over at her.

Well, I can see the way she sleeps

He was sure he would wake up to her gone.

Tonight, I find a better peace of mind

It didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would.

In her eyes, oh her eyes, oh her eyes, yeah

Shinso stared at her a little longer, a smile plastered on his face.

In her eyes, lord, her eyes, oh her eyes, yeah!

He never learned her name.

Art by me.

I wrote this fic as a birthday gift to myself but I hope you enjoyed!

#mha #bnha #shinsou x you #hitoshi shinso #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso fanart #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero academia #bnha shinsou #shinsou smut #shinsou simp #song fic

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mantistog · 3 years

Note

I was wondering if you can take a request for Yandere! Hannibal x reader x Yandere! Will Graham where the reader is very cold hearted so she always rejects Hannibal and Will and so they start killing for her like courtship and they eventually kidnap her and tell her they killed those people for her? Sorry if it’s long and I love your writings keep up the good work!

Bit different than what you wrote, sorry lol. I often get caught up writing, although I hope you still like it. <3

_________________________________________________________

Yandere!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Yandere!Will Graham: Devotion

The first time you rejected them you had been dealing with a sizzling headache for most of the day. It was the kind of headache that spread through the top of your head to the bridge of your nose and to the edge of your neck, making your head heavy and unbearable. The kind of headache that renders you desperate for relief and makes you question if life is even worth it at all. So to say you were irritable was an understatement. They could not have chosen a worse time to try and court you with dinner and fake kindness.

At first it seemed they had thought your coldness and rejection was a symptom of your vicious headache or your bad mood following it. In reality you were just not at all interested in being part of a weird three way relationship, much less their toxic and gross partnership. The only way to describe it was codependent. It seemed Hannibal loved when people needed him. Or maybe he liked the control that came with someone being under him and having complete control. He did seem like the control freak type. Will on the other hand seemed he needed someone to make him stable. Someone to just handle him, even when he can’t handle himself.

You needed neither, and you definitely didn’t want it. No one needed to give you a role to make you feel worth something and you didn’t need to define yourself by anyone you chose to date. You were not interested in any aspect of their sick love. Maybe if you had told them that that day instead of telling them politely to fuck off, they would have understood. The next time they had asked you out, it was when you bumped into them by accident. What for you had forgotten, but you needed flowers. Maybe it was a funeral, or maybe it was one of your friends' birthdays. You had never been good with gifts, always giving people things you’d liked. The flower you had chosen was a large bouquet of sunflowers, a big beautiful one that went well with the season. Sunflowers were your favourite, too. When you had bumped into them you had accidentally let that slip, when Hannibal had asked what occasion called for sunflowers. He had always looked far too deep into everything, making him too pretentious for your liking. Who cared if the flower was wrong for the occasion, if it was pretty?

Either way you had told them in exact words that whatever they were trying to invite you to was not going to happen, and you were not in any way interested in any of them. Hannibal had of course tried to goat you into coming for dinner as a ‘friend’. Will was less tactful, seeming rather distraught. You disagreed, your patience thin. You simply walked away without even a goodbye. A lot of your friends would call you cold, or mean. To you it just meant you didn’t lie or deal with peoples shit. You were okay with being called cold if it meant you didn’t have to bother with putting up fake courtesies.

When the pictures of the body came to you a few months later, you had completely forgotten the interaction. They had seemed much less pushy in their pursuit and you had to some degree even forgotten they had even tried to court you. In some way, the body was beautiful. The way the skin seemed so pale, like porcelain, matched so well with the vibrant yellow of the flowers. The body wasn’t even the focus of the masterpiece, it was the canvas for which the sunflowers were painted. The body was perched on a set of antlers, and it made you think it must have been the chesapeake ripper.

But the motive was so different. Violation, cannibalism and the act of murder was always what you saw on the crime scenes from him. But this was not anything violent in nature itself. There was barely any blood anywhere on the body, it looked barely touched. She was almost alive, if it was not for the paleness and cold of her skin. Some of it looked even blue. You wondered what Will would gather of the body, if he would come to the same conclusion as you.

You were surprised when he claimed it to be a love proclamation, yet still insisted that it was the ripper. Will knew better than you, when it came to all this, so you didn’t bother arguing with him. He insisted something must have changed in the ripper's life. That he must have found someone or something worth his art. It seemed almost unlikely to you, that someone like the ripper could be possible of love. Jack seemed to agree with you, which at least put your mind at ease.

It wasn’t long before the next body turned up, in the same state as the last. So well preserved it was eerie. The body was exactly the same as the last, but the sunflowers were backed by bouquets of flowers. Just like with the last body, you didn’t connect the dots. But you still briefly thought about how pretty it was. You loved all those flowers, and you had to stop yourself from letting that thought fester. It would be too morbid to find it beautiful.

Bodies kept turning up like that, so different but all so similar too. And after the 4th one you started to notice a pattern of the things the bodies were adorned with and that it was all things you found nice. But the 5th drove it home, putting it just beyond a coincidence for you. Just a week before the body turned up you had an altercation with your neighbor about a noise complaint after you had some friends over. You were complaining about it for a week, the fact that you didn’t see him again didn’t even cross your mind. You were too busy being caught up in your own spite to notice his absence at all. Until you saw the pictures of his body. Unlike the almost artistic and beautiful vision portrayed through the previous bodies, this one was malicious and predatory like the other victims of the ripper.

It was like the pictures snapped you back to reality. All those bodies, it was all too close to home. You hadn’t asked for this. All you had done was complain. You went home early that day, overcome with a sense of guilt. You stayed home the next day too, calling in sick. You kept going over who it could be in your life. Will had deemed the killing proclamations of love, yet you couldn’t find one person who had shown any kind of interest in you. That was until you remembered the rejections. The lead was so thin, that you honestly felt bad for even thinking about it, but it was quickly squashed when you thought about it further. You had always found Hannibal creepy and probably capable of murder. And Will was unstable to the point where you didn’t even question his capabilities.

You went back to work as normal after that. You made sure not to say anything personal, or complain about anyone when Hannibal or Will came near you. It went pretty smooth, and while everything was laying dormant in their relationship and your mind, you focused on trying to come up with a plan to see if it was them. But as mundanity rolled back into your life, you started chatting with your coworkers the same as you always had. And you made a mistake. You hadn’t even noticed Will was in the room as your back faced the doorway of the breakroom talking about a guy you had met at your local cafe. You were interested in him. It wasn’t often you were, and you had just let it slip in excitement. You didn’t even notice until you got spooked by a cough behind you that he had been there the whole time, pouring coffee. You fretted going home that day, scared of what would happen.

You couldn’t remember exactly when you had fallen asleep, but you woke up feeling really tired and stiff, with the faintest of headaches growing in the back of your skull. Yet you felt nice, pulling the duvet closer to your face to try and put pressure on your head and alleviate some of the headache. The duvet was soft, and it smelled faintly of manly cologne. A cologne that wasn’t yours. Suddenly the gears in your head turned, and you shot upright, looking around suspiciously. The room is unfamiliar to you, but at the end of the bed you see Will, asleep. He’s sitting on the floor, propped up on the bed with his hands reaching upwards towards you, his face down on the sheets. He looks almost cute, like that. You almost consider waking him, to talk to him about this, but you quickly decide not to. Could you even make it to the door without him waking?

You look over at the half open door, at the other side of the room from the bed. But before you can even calculate the chances of your escape the door opens further, creaking in the process and startling Will awake. Hannibal is looking at you with a smile, and your blood runs cold at how creepy and insincere it is. Will scrambles to stand up, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring up at you. His expression was so emotional, mixed with both pity and something akin to happiness. He looks like he is approaching one of his wild dogs, moving very slow and cautiously.

“Why?” Is all you manage to ask, when in reality you probably had hundreds of questions you wanted to ask them. But you don’t manage to eliquate a good question. It prompts Hannibal to step into the room fully, and you can now see that he is whipping his hands with a small cloth, indicating he was probably making something in his kitchen, like he always did. He cocks his head confused and Will scoots himself closer again. “That’s a very broad question. You’re going to have to reconvey.” Hannibal says. Your mouth scrunches up as the fake smile appears back on his face. It’s obvious you’re displeased, and you can’t help but grow a bit hostile.

“Why am I here? Why do you murder innocent people? Why am I alive?” You snap, looking at them with pure anger. It feels good, to finally tell them off again. Hannibal's fake smile drops, and he opens his mouth to reply but Will is already sitting by you, grabbing your hands in his. You’re too stunned to say anything. “We did it for you, can’t you see?” He pleads. But no, you still don’t understand. You will never understand. All you can feel at this point is exasperation. “You’re crazy. Neither of you even know what love means.”

Will smiles, bringing your hands closer to his face, despite you half heartedly pulling them away. He kisses your knuckles gently.

“Breakfast is ready.” Hannibal says, as if everything is normal. As if you’re not kidnapped. As if you’re not the cause of over 5 dead people.

As if you love them.

#Yandere! will graham #Yandere!Will #Yandere!Will graham x reader #yandere!hannibal #Yandere! Hannibal lecter #Yandere!Hannibal lecter x reader #Yandere x reader #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader

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rfadaydreaming · 4 years

Text

jumin han / nsfw abc’s

the ceo in all his glory <3 original post here

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

so attentive to all your needs. needs a minute for you both to catch your breath and come back down to earth, but almost instantly he’s all over you. wraps his arms around you, kisses your neck, murmurs words of affection into your skin. plays with your hair and listens to you talk about whatever you please, you’ll be doing most of the talking since he’s pretty quiet after sex. super casual and even somewhat lazy aura after the whole thing, he’s not lying when he says he gets drunk off of you. not exactly tired, just super calm and relaxed. after some snuggling he’ll offer to clean you up, run a bath, order food, or just stay in bed together if that’s what you’d like to do. whatever you prefer, he’s perfectly content.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he’s not fond of anything in particular on himself, hasn’t really thought about it much? but if he had to choose, he does like the way his hands look. his fingers are long and soft, they look especially good dancing across your skin, or covered in your cum. the last one he prefers the most <3

for his partner, it's the finer details that really get to him the most. the tiny things that no one would otherwise notice. the back of your neck, inside of your wrists, the softness of the skin between your thighs. even the freckles that dot your skin, every tiny little detail comes together to perfectly form you. that’s why it’s his favorite. finds it beautiful. victorian man over here !! hide your ankles

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

loves finishing inside. theres just something about it for him. stands back to admire as it pools out of you, much to your embarrassment. uses his tip to gather it all up, pushing it inside you again before starting round two. will love if you get all flustered about the whole thing too.

when you come to visit him in the office, he’ll finish inside and quickly pull your underwear up so nothing has the chance to spill out, a mess like that on the floor would be tough to explain. bonus points if you wear them throughout the day only for him to find out when he gets home from work, it will drive him crazy.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

got turned on when you said his name during the phone call the two of you shared shortly after you had joined the RFA. he’s never had that happen from someone’s voice alone, but then again, no one has said his name in such a slow and quiet way like that before. made him feel a little uncomfortable with himself, so he just ignored it and tried his best to forget. but you were definitely on his mind later that night. thats one of my favorite calls skdhksbs he was so surprised

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

no experience, like... none at all. maaaybe has watched porn once or twice but it didn’t really do anything for him, so he never picked it up again. the type to sit through sex scenes in movies completely unphased.

he knows basic anatomy of course—had a good education so he's aware of what’s going on—but only really researches the hidden tips and tricks once he gets in a deeper relationship with you. seven probably sends him know how links out of concern, they do help though !! he’s a naturally observant man as well, so he’s quick to learn what you like, the things that get you moaning and squirming the most. Not afraid to ask what you want from him. honestly if he hadn’t told you, you wouldn’t have a clue about his inexperience. boosts his ego sm <3

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

any position where you’re bent over he loves. doggy style, over his desk, against a wall.

also loves when you ride him while he’s sat at his work desk, gives him a good position to let his hands run wild all over your body. something about sitting in his office with you over him like that, riding him. really likes that.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

obviously he can smile or throw in a few sarcastic quips here and there, but overall takes the whole thing pretty seriously. gets a little nervous if you laugh for no reason, throws him off for a second. it’s pretty serious for him, sometimes there's off moments here and there of course, but he’d rather skip over them than dwell for too long. not a lot of laughs, he’s busy focusing on the task at hand. hold in your laughter please he will get offended

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

doesn’t shave completely, makes him feel weird when he does, but keeps himself trimmed often. prefers the neatness.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

prefers intimacy more than anything else, kissing your neck or wrists while he slowly thrusts in and out of you, whispering sweet words into your shoulder while he does so. he’ll trail your skin with his fingers and leave behind little pecks. loved asking questions or pointing out little things you might not have even noticed that he's absolutely in love with, freckles or birthmarks for example.

but that doesn’t mean he can’t also be rough. he likes bending you over, grabbing a fistful of your hair, making you beg for him. versatile king

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Before he met you:

rarely, he would do it on occasion? If he had a stubborn urge that just wouldn’t go away for some reason, but never really got the feeling for it. If he did, he never fantasized too much, just focused on the feeling until he was done. feels gross for the rest of the day after he does it, makes his head foggy.

After he met you:

still doesn’t do it too often, he has you after all. If the mood strikes he’ll ask if you’d like to help him out with his problem. phone sex is common on business trips, so he does it then, and if you want him to touch himself in front of you, he definitely will without a second thought. but unprompted and alone, no. he’d rather just wait.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

possessive sex. If you spend too much time with zen, someone flirts with you too openly, or even when he just starts to get caught up in his own head, the sex that comes after is intense. especially at events. he’ll make it a point to smudge your makeup, leave marks on your skin, turn you into a drooling mess. he’ll have you repeat who you belong to, make you beg for permission to finish, really gets off on being the one in charge. domination kink

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

home is probably his favorite just because it’s where you’re most comfortable getting loud, you both can spend as much time as you need there without any interruptions. the office is a close second though.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

when you wear short skirts with nothing else underneath them, especially if you come to visit him in the office. bonus points if he’s insanely busy that day and doesn’t have time to bend you over his desk. text him beforehand and watch how many times his eyes shift to your legs, the way he looks at you. really drives him up the wall. but besides that most of the time all you have to do is speak and he’s ready to go, all day every day. say the word and he’s yours.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

no choking, slapping, drawing blood, anything too intense in the bedroom that’s super violent. It just.. doesn’t get him going. he’s not too picky with what he will or won’t do, but that isn’t his cup of tea.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

either or, if you give he’ll always give back and vice versa. prefers giving a bit more honestly, loves seeing you come undone from his mouth alone, but no complaints if you sneak under his desk at work and start undoing his belt.

skillswise it does take him a bit of getting used to at first, but he warms up quickly as he gets to know your body more. again, observant and a very quick learner. will never complain about his jaw hurting, never ever. groans a lot into you while he’s doing it, let’s himself get himself lost in the whole thing.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

it depends on the mood or how either of you feel that day. he does prefer slow and intimate just a bit more than anything else, but isn’t strongly leaning towards one or the other.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

proper sex if he’s able to, only likes quickies when you two are in public and or a time crunch, but they’re definitely not his favorite. If he does have to finish quickly, he’s sure to make it up to you later. they’re surprisingly often though, especially if you drop by his office. you’ll always leave looking way redder than you did before.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

most anything you want to try, he’ll try. He wants to make you happy. I don't see him being overly kinky right off the bat since he doesn’t have much experience? but he’s down for new things. pretty risky, loves public sex after all.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

at first not too long due to his inexperience, but he learns to hold back more as time passes. pretty good at controlling himself, wants to see you come undone as many times as he can before he finishes himself. after a hard day at work he can only last a round or two, but normally he can go for awhile.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

doesn’t own toys for himself, but has a few he’d buy for you. has quite the selection of vibrators. his favorite is a pink one that's controlled by his phone, it gets quite a bit of use, especially during events. handcuffs and blindfolds too !! always super pink, he likes that color for you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

unfair, making you beg, edging you until you can’t bear it any longer, embarrassing you especially with his dirty talk. doesn’t hold back in the slightest, so it’s never fair for you. he’s selfish after all.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

grunts, groans, little “fuck”s under his breath. more vocal as he gets closer to coming, he breathes heavier and groans deeper in his throat. It’s never super loud, he’s way more on the quiet side. prefers to hear your sounds more than anything else so he's focused on that the most, doesn’t really moan too much.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

cannot send nudes for the life of him. like, it’s bad. super blurry, awkward, or way too dark. it’s cute whenever he tries though. for some reason they’re just so painfully awkward looking. opt for phone sex instead

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

never measured himself officially? but he's on the lengthier side— more than seven inches for sure, he leans up more towards his stomach but overall very straight, no curves or anything. cut, not too many veins except for one prominent one his underside that will absolutely drive him insane if you run your tongue across it, his tip is very red and incredibly sensitive, jumps a little if you go in on it way too fast. he has way more length than he does girth, and the size stays the same all throughout. i know his dick is pretty i just feel it

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

before he met you, low. but after he met you, all those years of repressed sexual frustration really started to show huh, he can’t go more than five minutes without keeping his hands off of you. It’s high, especially at the beginning of the relationship.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

depends on how work was that day !! But no matter what he tends to stay up for a while afterwards. you’re much more likely to fall asleep before him most of the time. he likes think for awhile first.

#mm #mysme #mystic messenger #jumin han #jumin han mystic messenger #jumin mystic messenger #jumin han headcanons #jumin mm #jumin mysme #mystic messenger headcanons #daydreaming after hours #hey !! hey #omg why was this so hard to write #not me struggling to describe a mans dick for 20 minutes straight #my search history ... adios

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cupcakemolotov · 3 years

Text

Wild Hunt

I think I promised @goldcaught a Klaroline Fae fic years ago. This one has been in the works for a while, let's not talk dates, but 2020 definitely slowed production down. I promise, the second half will not sit languishing in my WIP for too long! The biggest, most heartfelt thank you to Kiry, who has been both a cheerleader and a kick in the pants as needed to get this thing on track to being finished. Kiry doesn't sleep, but I can't complain too much, since they have kindly listened to me complain until the wee hours of the morning. (And also my girl @klarolinedrabbles who saw a super early version of this and was kind enough to be encouraging.)

Edit; And I failed to tag @kirythestitchwitch directly, but you know, today was a trip.

A couple of notes to avoid confusion:

Fae: A word used in this fic to generally reference a type of European mythological beings. Sean O'Connell: Cami O'Connell's Twin.

Synopsis: Killing Tyler Lockwood starts a chain of events that put Caroline exactly where she's always dreaded and longed to be: in the arms of Klaus Mikaelson.

Warnings: Alternate Universe; Alternate Universe - FaeAlternate; Universe - Soulmates; Fae!Caroline; hybrid!Klaus; Minor Character Death; Blood and Gore; Mild Gore; Implied/Referenced; Torture; Psychological Torture; Canon-Typical Violence; Compulsion; Blood and Injury; Blood Drinking

Hand pressed tightly against her side, Caroline took several careful breaths, her lungs burning and her pulse a steady thump in her ears. Her senses were hyper alert, magic straining to catch the faintest hint of a disturbance. All around her, humans slept soft and cozy in their beds, and the night had gone quite. As the silence continued to hold, she allowed herself to relax, letting the cold of the concrete at her spine cool her flushed and fever warm skin. For the moment, she was safe.

Reaching up, she rubbed her breastbone, lips curling into a small, pleased smile at the burn. Her father was angry. If she survived the night, that alone would make the pain of her injury worth it. Thankfully, the knife wound felt like it had finally stopped seeping, and her glamour would hide the blood. It was the iron poison that was going to cause her complications. The black spider web crawling up the line of her ribcage hadn’t made it close to her heart, she was her mother’s daughter too, but it weakened her all the same.

It left her in a magical disadvantage.

Grimacing as her phone buzzed silently in her pocket, she pressed a little further into the concrete behind her and looked around. There was nothing to suggest her cousins had been able to track her, though that was just a matter of time. Thankfully, even suffering from iron, she had enough control of her magic to hide the glow from her phone, though she didn’t quite dare to risk more.

Not yet.

Pulling it free from her pocket, she winced at the number of missed calls and quickly scanned the texts that had accumulated.

Bonnie (12:45 AM): Hello???

Bonnie (12:46 AM): You’re not dead.

Bonnie (12:46): Are you ignoring me?

Bonnie (1:10 AM): I swear, I’ll put Enzo on a plane. With the time differences, he’ll be there before dawn.

Bonnie (1:10 AM): Then you’ll have to listen to him complain about airplane food while he tries to kill people.

Bonnie (1:11 AM): I might do it anyway. I could use the alone time.

Wincing, because Bonnie Bennett did not bluff, she hurriedly tapped out a response.

Caroline (1:11 AM): I’m alive.

Bonnie (1:11 AM): What happened?

Caroline (1:11 AM): It was a trap.

Bonnie (1:11 AM): How bad?

Caroline: (1:12 AM): I’ve mostly stopped bleeding and Tyler is dead.

Very dead. She’d made sure of it. There was a lot someone like her father would do with a dead body, so she’d made a point to separate his head from his body so he couldn’t be resurrected. Baba Yaga spells were rare and costly, but if anyone could get their hands on one, it would be her father. It was why she’d then dumped her stash of holy water on the body and then carefully dusted him in iron shavings, rendering his body and his blood unusable.

The little dots below her conversation on her messenger app popped up and died several times, and Caroline closed her eyes, letting her head fall back as she waited for Bonnie’s response. She’d know that coming to Chicago was a risk, for a number of reasons, but even at her most pessimistic she wasn’t sure she could have guessed just what she’d find here.

What could possibly have led Tyler to be so desperate that he would trust her father? Tyler, who was one of the few people who knew the truth of her origin, who had hugged her when she’d said goodbye and told her he would always care about her. Tyler, whose blood she now wore beneath her nails, who had stabbed her with an iron knife and who had died with hate in eyes.

Her phone buzzed and she glanced down.

Bonnie (1:13 AM): Klaus is in Chicago.

Caroline stared at her phone, surprise and a shot of adrenaline leaving her momentarily breathless. Klaus. Here. In Chicago. The city where Bill had set up his most recent plots, where Tyler had attempted to betray everything that had once made him a good man. Sliding her teeth along her lip, she very carefully typed her reply, her fingers shaking.

Caroline (1:14 AM): You said he was in London for the next month. What changed?

Bonnie (1:15AM): I don’t know.

Bonnie (1:16 AM): Do you need an exit?

Bonnie (1:16 AM): He owes me.

Caroline was shaking her head even before she started typing. Being anywhere near Klaus was a terrible idea, and Bonnie knew that. That her friend would never make the offer unless she thought it necessary left dread sitting low in her stomach.

Caroline (1:16 AM): What’s got you spooked?

Bonnie (1:17 AM): Someone is blocking my scrying spells.

Caroline (1:17 AM): Bill?

Bonnie (1:17 AM): If we’re lucky. We both know what it means if we’re not.

Caroline’s fingers tightened on her phone case, her pulse loud in her ears. Bonnie was right. Very, very few things blocked her from seeing what she wanted to see. Bill could do it thanks to the blood bind but it wasn’t easy, and he never managed it for long periods of time. Grams probably could have done it. But the list of powerful witches who remained alive in the United States after the purging of New Orleans was short.

There was only one reason Bill would use the blood connection between them to block out any outside magic from interfering tonight. She hadn’t just pissed her father off, she’d actively disrupted his plans, and thanks to Bonnie’s magical brilliance, he couldn’t track her easily. But there was another way to drag her to a Fairy Court, and she would have to move very quickly to avoid it.

Baring her teeth in a mimicry of a smile, she gave herself a moment to feel a sharp burst of satisfaction. She had a list on her phone of her father’s potential means of retaliation, and Wild Hunt was right there at the top as the worst possible outcome, but it also meant Tyler must have been far more integral to his plans than she’d guessed. Even knowing that her chances of survival had just taken a serious dip, it did little to dim her pleasure. If she was very, very lucky her father’s precious Queen would feel the need to take out his failure on him directly.

A girl could hope.If she survived the night, she was going to find a fancy bottle of wine and pick up a cupcake. Maybe two cupcakes. She deserved the mini-celebration.

Caroline (1:20AM): I spotted half a dozen of my cousins tonight. I don’t know who holds their allegiance but it probably won’t matter. If Bill is super pissed, he’ll call them all.

Bonnie (1:21 AM): Fuck.

Bonnie (1:21 AM): If it goes bad, don’t be an idiot. Use Klaus.

Caroline (1:21 AM): No.

Caroline (1:22 AM): Favor or not, I killed his hybrid. He doesn’t strike me as forgiving.

Bonnie (1:22 AM): He’s not.

Bonnie (1:23 AM): You don’t have to tell him.

Caroline (1:23 AM): Uh huh. I’ll call you when I’m safe. 🤦😘❤️🏃

Shoving her phone back into her pocket, Caroline exhaled slowly at the bite that was her warning that her magic was nearly tapped dry. Giving herself another half-a-dozen heart beats to celebrate her first major victory, she turned her mind to her problem at hand.

Bonnie had good reason to be worried. It had been almost thirty years since the Queens had summoned a wild hunt to drag one of the half-Fae home for punishment. Bill had made a point to tell her in great details the torture that had awaited her cousin, the way the Queen had plucked his body and his mind apart for his treachery.

Caroline doubted she had become enough of a problem that the Queens would send the hunt, which meant that Bill would be expending a great deal of power to collect her. Her lips twisted, finger tapping silently against the side of her phone. Fae magic was powerful, and so was her father, but it could be circumvented. She needed to concentrate on that, put together her plan.

Pissing her father off twice in one night would normally be her highest priority, but instead what she wanted to think about was the message Bonnie had given her.

Klaus Mikaelson was in Chicago.

Anticipation was a tantalizing thrill in her veins. She’d hoped the truth of New Orleans would have helped her grow out of her strange obsession. Instead, it left her wanting to know more. It was a struggle, when all she had to do was text Bonnie and ask for a location. She could then finally indulge in the bone deep curiosity that had been part of her life for as long as she could remember. Maybe figure out the cause of her obsession with a monster she’d never met.

She might’ve, if only doing so tonight wouldn’t put everyone she cared about in danger.

Caroline slid her lip between her teeth, letting the small hurt ground her. If she thought her father hated her enough to call down a Wild Hunt now, exposing the Fae’s secrets to Klaus would make his rage burn even more bitterly. She’d honestly have done it years ago out of spite if such a move would only put her in the crosshairs of the courts, but it wouldn’t.

Bonnie and Enzo would also be marked.

The High Courts currently considered her rebellion to be a family matter, though one Bill was unable to control adequately. She could not risk a Queen deciding she was her enemy in truth, not yet. Not when she was so close to figuring out how to banish her father permanently to the otherside of the Veil.

She’d be thrilled to just killing him, but she long since accepted that might not be possible. Tyler had been right, when he’d called her a monster. When he’d called all of them monsters. He just hadn’t understood that for all of the terrible things in this world that there were worse fate’s hidden behind the veil in between the worlds, horrors lovingly encouraged in Underhill that could break a human mind merely with their existence.

Earth had pushed the Fae back with their iron and religion all those years ago, had sealed the veil with witch magic, and humanity considered themselves victorious. But the truth was all they had done was defer the fight for the territory the Fae claimed as theirs to own to a different day.

The Fae hadn’t forgotten humanity nor had they forgiven them for their defeat. Banished behind magic, the Fae watched and watched and hungered. They had waited for the time that they had truly passed into myth, until the world forgot how to defeat them with a dangerous patience. But the nature of the Fae was as capricious as it was violent, and not all agreed on waiting.

Some had altered their plans and plotted a different course of action.

The Great Experiment.

Caroline supposed she should be grateful for that impatience, it was the reason for her existence, but all she could muster just then was a familiar anger. For six hundred years, members of the High Courts had mingled their blood among humans, hoping to breed children with resistance to both iron and the religion, the tools that had locked them away from the world that had once been theirs. And their plan had produced some success, though not always how they had hoped.

She was one such success.

Elizabeth Forbes had never been comfortable with her half-Fae child, but she’d also refused to abandon her to a world filled with monsters. Instead, she’d taught her daughter the good and the bad of humanity, had shown her the world as it was and what it could be. Her father saw her as a tool, a means to an end. Her mother’s love had been gruff and uneasy, but she’d tried.

She would never, ever forget that.

Or forgive Bill for her death.

Caroline had defied her father and his magic, had pitted herself against his will as she vowed vengeance for killing the one thing she’d ever claimed as her own. Her mother.

Hunting Bill required care and a meticulous eye for detail, and a particular stubbornness she had in spades. His magic was more powerful than hers, but he had always underestimated his only child by Liz, brushed her off as not powerful or clever enough for his schemes. It’s been a deliberate decision of hers to hide what she was capable of, hoping that such a ploy would save her mother. Now, she used her magic against him with the same ruthlessness he had taught her as a child.

But she was just one half-breed among hundreds, and so she’d learned to be careful. She wasn’t even the most powerful of those born on this side of the veil and underhanded ambush tactics had always served her better than brute force. A disruption there, a few dozen murder’s here. Just enough to skew her father’s chessboard while she worked to uncover the truth of his plotting. The fewer of her cousins who were able to carry out the will of her father and his fellow full blooded Fae’s plots, the safer humanity was from a terrible strike.

But she couldn’t kill them all, though she’d certainly tried. Her family did not die easily, and magic lingered in places of terrible violence like fingerprints. Each kill was a risk that could lead to her death. Over the years, it’s become clear that if she wanted to destroy her fathers plots, she couldn’t do it alone. The tie that connected them, the thread that burned so clearly now in her chest with her father’s rage, meant that she’d never be truly safe from him. Blood ties were not easily broken.

But Caroline knew witches, so she’d returned home, to the place where the only people she trusted still lived. Tyler had already been gone by then, lost in his need for vengeance, but Bonnie had been there, lingering in the ashes of conquest almost as if she’d been waiting.

It was then that Caroline had learned that humanity's greatest monster had become its potential savior. That the true potential of Ester’s terrible offspring had finally been unlocked. Klaus Mikaelson had broken his curse.

Her fingers curled into her palms, the strange, bone-deep curiosity that ground her joints together every time she thought of his name a familiar sensation. Klaus had broken his strange Sun and Moon curse in the forest she knew so well, had cut a bloody path through everyone who tried to oppose him, and laid the foundations for the army of hybrids he was determined to build. His perfect army that feared neither sun nor death and were unnaturally loyal.

Hybrids that Bonnie had helped create.

Her best friend rarely spoke of the events that led to the creation of the hybrids, refusing to give Caroline even the smallest detail of how a hybrid was made. Even tucked away in her home in Maine twenty years later, hidden by both Fae and witch magic. Caroline might not have the hows involved, but she knew the whys.

It all circled back to Bill.

Liz hadn’t been the only causality of her father’s hunger for power, just the first in their small town. Murdering Sheila Bennett had been a mistake in that it had set Bonnie against Bill, but it fit the pattern Caroline was starting to see in her father’s plans. Liz had been human, but one whose family had been deeply entrenched in the supernatural for generations. Sheila Bennett had been powerful, but she’d been born of the witch line that had created the Otherside. Gram’s had made sure her death had cost Bill, but it hadn’t been enough to stop his plans as Tyler’s presence tonight had proven.

Sometimes, Caroline wondered why Bonnie didn’t hate her. Bill was a scourge that returned time and time again, because her blood allowed it. Maybe if she’d been stronger they’d have been able to protect their families. But what she couldn’t protect, she could avenge.

Bonnie had agreed to help. Had been working on her own plans for years. The first real foothold into Bill’s master plan had been with the Augustine Society. Bonnie had been watching them for months before Caroline’s return, humans who had relentlessly experimented on vampires. They’d staged a rescue for the vampire that had been imprisoned, and it had been Enzo who had known of Tyler.

Tyler who had been the first of Klaus’ successful hybrids, whose loyalty was a shaky thing despite whatever magic bound him to his maker. Her childhood sweetheart who yearned for freedom from the yolk he had chosen. It’d taken months to go through the society’s notes they’d managed to save, to dig into the texts they had been experimenting with.

They’d known so much but understood so little.

But one thing had become crystal clear.

Bill was trying to bring down the Veil. Not unexpected, as most of the Fae worked to destroy it. But Bill also worked to understand what had led to the banishment of the Fae, so he could break it better.

It had been humans, werewolves and witches who had originally created the veil, blocking the Fae Lords from returning in great numbers after their banishment, forcing them to squeeze through cracks when the veil between worlds was thin or use now defunct gates. When iron had slowly lost its grip on the world, they might have managed more but for Qetsiyah.

Bonnie’s ancestor had been clever. When she’d bound the otherside, trapping Amara in stone and Silas forever out of her reach, she’d sunk the power of those souls into the Veil between humanity and the Fae, creating a second anchor. An additional failsafe to guarantee that no Supernatural would be so foolish as to undo her work.

Witch. Vampire. Werewolf. Hybrid. When they died, they were shuffled into Qetsiyah’s chosen afterlife, and their souls protected humanity. Humans were spared that fate, but their very existence acted a detriment to the Fae, as it was humanity who embraced iron.

The fastest way to destroy the Veil would be to free Silas. For a while, she and Bonnie had worried that he would succeed. But no one knew where Qetsiyah had hidden Silas’ body, and for all of her father’s attempts to restart Silas’ little cult, he’d always failed. The last real surge in members had ended when they’d been slaughtered, setting her father back decades.

The only other way to destroy what Qetsiyah had put into place would be to destroy the Veil at the root. And while no one understood the magic that had cast out the Fae so many years ago, her father didn’t need to understand the magic of the Veil to break it. He just needed dominion over it. But that was no easy task. Humans and witches could be bribed or fooled. Werewolves hovered at the brink of extinction. But the children of Esther, the hybrids that now walked the earth, defied every master but one. And so her father gathered his pieces and worked to subjugate Klaus’ creations in secret.

Caroline had tried to save Tyler.

She’d tried to talk him out of the part that Bill needed him to play. He’d refused. And the betrayal had burned like acid in her gut.

It had been Tyler, who had helped her dig Elizabeth Forbes’ grave. Her friend who had given her his gloves when her palms started to bleed, had said nothing when her tears had made her clumsy. It had been Tyler who sat with her and Bonnie, listening as Grams told them of the dangers in the world after Caroline had announced she was leaving. But her friend had died long before Caroline had killed him.

She shivered in the wind.

She knew Klaus played his part in that. It was impossible not to. It had been because of Tyler that she’d ended up in New Orleans, after all. The whispers of the destruction of the city, of how entire witch lines had been lost to madness and death had not adequately captured the horror of it. She’d seen what Klaus had left behind: werewolf packs left in ruin, the survivors turned and bound to his will. Broken witches and terror ridden vampires.

But rarely death. Klaus was not so kind to let his true enemies escape him in such a way. Instead, his wake left behind living ghosts. At least in this, she had done her best by her old friend. Whatever had driven him, whatever horror he had witnessed that had turned him so fully against her, she hoped he could find peace from it now.

She wasn’t so sure she’d be so lucky. Klaus was a spector in her life that she didn’t know if she could escape. And tonight, she’d killed his first hybrid. She grimaced. Klaus would not take to that news kindly. Best if she was long gone when he learned of it.

She wondered if she could manage it. She already felt the pull in her chest, the need to see, to touch, burning through her. It has always been like this. When Grams had first mentioned his name all those years ago, she’d felt the smallest of pulls, a jolt of curiosity. A tug she couldn’t explain. And everytime she thought his name, every time she heard another whisper of the night terrors he created, the tug to search him out grew stronger.

She’d deliberately chosen to look for those horrors once, hoping the truth of his nature would terrify her into running away. Instead, the monster that she had cultivated since she was seventeen and covered in her mother’s blood had approved. The more she learned, the more she wanted to know.

It was why she’d helped Bonnie disappear. Whatever happened between her and Klaus, she was determined to protect her friends from the fall out of it. But she was not the only Fae who hunted for information about Klaus, and Bonnie Bennet had helped create his hybrids.

Her people would destroy Bonnie, if they learned that truth. That a witch from Qetsiyah’s line had once again worked great magic against them would light the fires of their impotent rage for a long, long time. As long as Klaus and his hybrids roamed the earth, it made their chances of winning a war that much harder.

Fae magic was powerful, but given forced limitations by the rules they had to follow. Klaus and his creations were bound by no such things. And they were swallowing the world.

It had been nearly five years since the first hint of a hybrid returning to the US since New Orleans had raced through the Supernatural community. Over the decades, the US communities had watched from a distance as Klaus had bent Europe to his will, his creations breaking across city after city like a wave, choking out any dissent in their paths.

London, Paris, Milan. They all fell at Klaus’ feet with little more than a whimper.

The first real sign of his return had been when he turned New Orleans into a witches' graveyard, and then his gaze had turned to Chicago. Her father was no fool, he had to have known that Klaus had made this city the seat of his power in the States. Bill was far too cunning to risk catching Klaus’ attention unless he had a plan, and not knowing the exact details of what that plan was worried her.

Though she could guess part of it.

A sharp whistle cut through the air, and Caroline’s gaze cut along the rigid angles and sharply jutting corners of the builders around her, but she maintained her hiding place. She had no intention of being flushed out of cover like a bird they intended to net but she needed to come up with a plan.

Glancing at her watch, she grimaced.

It was nearly two in the morning.

If her father had chosen to call a Wild Hunt, she had roughly sixty minutes until the witching hour of three A.M. struck, and the Hunt was let loose. The blood tie to her father might have eroded to the point that he could no longer use it to force her obedience, but they had never managed to break it entirely. Fae magic was tricky. Blood ties more so. Instead, Bonnie had done her best to cloud it, to thin the connection to a single, potent thread.

A Wild Hunt would cut through the witch magic hiding her and return her to her father. Caroline was certain the only reason Bill hadn’t tried to do such a thing before was because of the cost. Calling a Hunt took a great deal of personal power. She would only have one shot of slipping away, and the risk of being caught by her father’s soldiers was dangerously high.

Klaus was in Chicago.

Her fingers clenched, and Caroline put her phone away. She wouldn’t risk Bonnie or Enzo by going to Klaus, not yet. Not with Tyler’s blood fresh on her hands. But that didn’t mean she still couldn’t use his presence in the city to her advantage. In a game of half-breeds, it always came down to who was the better gambler.

Supernatural cities always had seedy vampire nightclubs and supernatural friendly bars littered throughout. When Klaus had taken over Chicago, he had commandeered several for his own use. But there was one club in particular that she’d pinned down as potentially being part of his stomping grounds; the number of bodies that were secretly removed from the club gave credence to her theory, though she supposed it could just be a place that attracted excess stupidity.

If she was going to have a chance tonight, she needed to go into that club and stay just long enough to let the scent of mingling supernaturals hide her trail so she could slip away undetected and find a place she could hide from the magic seeking her. If she was lucky, Klaus’ potential presence would act as a deterrent.

It was a risk.

Not only because she needed to keep her own blood-lust in check, but because she had never before let herself venture close enough to Klaus to risk catching a single glimpse of him. She was magically exhausted and wounded, the slow crawl of thirst thick in her throat, and her bones ached with the insistent need that made no logical sense.

She would have to be so very careful. Still, for now, her glamour was holding. Setting her teeth, Caroline turned and headed to the heartbeat of the city. Tonight, she’d find a way to live and tomorrow she’d call Bonnie and they’d work out a plan for her to escape. And she’d have to do it without indulging in a curiosity that had no name but was a pulse in her blood.

The rest is here: A03

(I’ll add the link to FFN once I get it posted.)

#my fic #klaroline #klaroline fanfic

48 notes · View notes

hawkeish · 3 years

Note

3. You made me a Christmas playlist but it’s just Mariah Carey’s “All I want for Christmas is you”. I can’t tell if you’re hitting on me or if it’s a joke --- for (you know it) Carver/Merrill :D

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS PROMPT IT IS FANTASTIC, here’s 1400 words of modern Carver/Merrill fluff written for @dadrunkwriting because I have no restraint and too much time <3 I hope you like it!

no CWs, but there’s some swearing (I promise my Hawke siblings love each other, in a brutal way!)

also my modern Merrill’s a postgrad studing Art History & Cultural Studies - repairing the eluvian is her research project.

read on AO3 if you want!

It’s the evening before everything shuts down for Satinalia, and it’s started to snow.

Which would be nice, if only Carver wasn’t stuck outside Merrill’s door, trying not to break a magical mirror which possesses far too many poky bits as it pokes right into his side. Fingers numb with cold, he’s too busy fumbling with the ridiculous amount of keys she gave him to appreciate the beauty of the Alienage in Firstfall. Bedecked with wreaths, shining baubles and flickering garlands of lights, the vhenadahl is like something from a fairy-tale, dusted with a gentle sigh of snow.

Snow, lights, whatever. Any other night, Carver might let himself be enchanted. But right now, he has one priority—get the damn mirror into the damn apartment without breaking it even more.

And yet here he is, falling at the first hurdle: locked out, with Merrill’s most precious possession leaning on him at an angle that’s making him nervous. It’s not exactly going well. But it needs to go well. He promised he’d get the eluvian - carefully swaddled in some enchanted cloth to “protect him”, whatever that means - from her studio at the Viscount’s College of Art back to her Lowtown home in one piece. If he doesn’t, he’s not sure what might happen. He doesn’t want to know what might happen. Her degree? Ruined. A vital piece of her people’s history? Lost. And as for Merrill herself?

She’d probably never speak to him again, and shit, he can’t think of much worse—

Click.

The random key he’s shoved in the lock twists, and the door swings open before him.

“Thank the fucking Maker,” he mumbles, then picks up the mirror and barrels into Merrill’s tiny home.

Merrill’s flat is much like Merrill. As in, modest, pretty, and filled with a frankly terrifying amount of knowledge. There are small cairns of books dotted between potted plants and thrifted armchairs, alongside art prints leaned up against walls and notebooks littering her paint-flecked desk. Though she doesn’t celebrate Satinalia, there are a couple of decorations over the tiny fireplace, too. And—is that spice he can smell?

As Carver carefully sets down the eluvian by the window in the corner like she’d instructed, he catches sight of something in his peripheral vision. Two steaming cups of wine-dark liquid set on the coffee table by the fire, and beside them, a neatly-folded note.

Curiosity gets the better of him. Carver wanders over and gingerly picks up the paper, a frown puckering his brow as he unfurls it.

C. Merrill’s handwriting is pin-point neat. I just wanted to say - I do really appreciate you doing this for me. Creators, there’s no chance I could lift that thing on my own! You really are my chevalier in shining armour. I’ll send you a little something to say thanks. M x

That x does something strange to him; a small chill runs up his spine, and Carver puts the note back down in a fluster. Just as he does, the phone in his pocket vibrates. Still frowning, he pulls it out, then squints at the text that’s screaming up at him from the too-bright screen.

alright dickhead! hope you’re having a lovely day of being a burden on society! did you get the message?

Carver doesn’t need to read the sender’s name to know it’s from his sister.

Go back to making shit coffee for people who’ll never sleep with you, he types. And what message?

Surely Ri wouldn’t mean the note. Why would she know about the note? As far as he can tell, Merrill only asked him for help after Aveline and Fenris made some excuse about being far too busy washing their hair, or dancing round their townhouse full of half-decayed corpses, or whatever the fuck it is that they get up to instead of being friendly, helpful people.

Carver wasn’t the first choice. He never is. Which is fine. Totally fine. He’s used to it. Knowing he’s never a first thought definitely doesn’t itch at the back of his mind, or keep him up at night—

“Maker’s breath,” he scolds himself, trying to focus back on his phone.

And then, just as he presses send, another notification pops up. Unknown number; something in him tells him to tap anyway. When he does, a little jolt of static runs through him, warm and fuzzy and disgustingly sweet.

For you, the new message reads. To say thanks. I knew I wouldn’t need to ask anyone else. You’re all I need for Satinalia. Enjoy! <3

Below it, there’s a link to a playlist. A playlist which, he notices, contains about twenty versions of the same song, All I Want For Satinalia Is You. One’s in Elven. One’s a country version with, inexplicably, some late-night TV host caterwauling over the chorus. One’s by some Orlesian crooner called Michel de Bublé. There’s even one that’s just someone playing the recorder extremely badly over a muffled backing track.

It’s an…interesting mix. As he skips through the songs, though, he can’t help but smile. Whoever this truly ridiculous playlist was meant for is a lucky person. It certainly wasn’t for him.

At least, that’s what he thinks, until he taps back onto his messages app.

Then, his heart does a weird twist in his chest, and the phone suddenly feels like a searing hot coal in his hands. Because, in bold, in the small gap above the text where the sender’s name usually lies, there’s a small line that makes his pulse skip every time his eyes trail over it.

Could this be: Merrill Alerion

Carver nearly drops his phone.

This is a joke, right? It has to be a joke. Carver feels slightly seasick. Quicker than he knew his fingers could work, he’s sent a crappy screenshot to Marian.

This???????

A few seconds pass.

Ri replies with a voice message. The voice message is a long, horrible, joyous screech.

Fuck, Carver thinks. “Fuck!” Carver says, and stuffs his phone back into his pocket.

His heart’s going wild, now; his palms are sweatier than they’ve maybe ever been. The mulled wine suddenly seems like a very good idea: he takes one in each hand, trying to convince himself he doesn’t fucking hate star anise. Time to chug—

Halfway through his first glass, there’s two light knocks at the door.

Carver freezes, glass still at his lips. Then, he realises that in his haste to get the mirror in, he’s left the door open. Panic spears through him, until he remembers that he’s a six-foot-stupid ex-farmer and could definitely take on a burglar. And that burglars probably don’t knock.

Still, this is Kirkwall. Better to be safe than sorry. Carver holds his breath as he sets the glasses down as quietly as he can and starts towards the door. He’s not punched anyone in a while. Maybe the anxiety coursing round his body from that text will finally give him a decent right hook. Maybe if he catches someone trying to steal Merrill’s stuff, it’ll add to the whole chevalier-in-shining-armour thing. Maybe—

A gentle gust of wind flutters through the apartment, and the door swings open, just as Carver’s barely steps away.

When he sees who’s behind the door, he makes a tiny squealing noise that instantly makes him want to cease existing. Rosy-cheeked and smiling, Merrill stands before him. Flecks of snow are caught in her dark hair and on the chunky knitted scarf wrapped around her neck, and her eyes are glittering beneath the Satinalia lights strung up on the street outside. It’s as if she’s haloed, glowing, a beacon against the dark winter’s night.

She looks beautiful.

“Merrill,” he breathes. “I thought you were...”

“Studying?” She’s smiling, and he feels a bit dizzy. “I was. But I finished - just in time, I think! Did you get the message?”

“Uh—the playlist?” he offers. “Yeah.”

“But did you get the message?” she asks again, a grin tugging at the edges of her lips.

Carver frowns. There was a message to get? “I—what?”

“Creators,” Merrill says, half-laughing, glancing up at something above him, then back down. When her gaze locks with his, he feels his heart flutter. “Hawke said making you a playlist would be very smooth. I’m not sure I’m ever very smooth. I guess I’ll not trust your sister again.”

“Smooth?” he echoes, like an idiot.

Then, he remembers what’s hanging above her door. A sprig of mistletoe, tied up with a neat red bow.

Merrill answers him with a laugh, and a kiss, and Carver thinks oh.

#carver x merrill #dragon age 2 #modern au #ish writes #thank you so much for the prompt!#I hope I did it justice #dadwc #da drunk writing circle #and yes I did listen to different versions for 2.5 hours as I wrote for 'research'#hollyand-writes #answered

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brideofcthulhu10 · 4 years

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The Lost Boys Find Out Their Fem!S/O is Pregnant [3/4]

Guh, this one has taken the longest so far. Dwayne is such a strong silent type, and unfortunately got the least lines in the film so I had to really push myself to get into the right mindset. I think it came out fantastic, I hope you guys love it too. Now it's time for:

DWAYNE

Rays of light were beginning to crack through the little nooks of the ceiling, a slow sunrise ushering the vampiric quartet into the depths of the hotel ruins for a long anticipated rest after another wild night. The last to go was your night bird, Dwayne. Calloused hands dragged on your cheek, stealing away any kisses he could. You savored the smokey scent his hair carried and nearly giggled at how his stubble tickled your neck.

"Dwaaayne, I'll still be here tonight," you insisted, gently nudging him off. "Go inside before you burst into flames."

He chuckled with a wide grin, taking one last kiss. "Alright, I'll be back. 6 o'clock on the dot, as soon as the sun goes down."

"It's a date."

You watched him scurry into the cove, pushing past collapsed beams and cobwebs. How they could sleep in that you would never know. Still, that meant you had an entire day to kill before they would be up again. A long, boring day.

You had stopped verbally complaining long ago, every time you did David would insist if you just let Dwayne bite you, this wouldn't be a problem. But you just weren't ready. At least, not yet. The night was so alluring, and every day you felt yourself wanting to be beside them more. However, you still had some final days to cling to. Maybe it was just the fear of making such a massive change. Cowardice.

Just waiting around the cave quickly grew boring, laying atop the bed that once housed Star and Laddie now eerily vacant. You tried to pass the early morning hours by flipping through magazines, listening to your portable cassette player- yeah, you knew it was going out of fashion, but CDs were so expensive, and you were not about to let the boys steal a $200+ player just to listen to Mötley Crüe on a slightly different player. You'd brought your own entertainment after so many visits, but you soon groaned when you realized it was only 10 am. There were still 7 and a half hours of waiting to go, and you were nowhere near tired enough for a nap!

Maybe a quick walk would kill your boredom, a quick snack on the boardwalk, pick up the guys something to munch on before they go out hunting. Yeah, that should be good.

With a soft grunt you scooted off the bed, wedging your feet into your boots with your backpack slung over your shoulder. "I'll be back soon," you whisper out loud, looking over at the dusty hole they'd disappeared into. Dwayne definitely couldn't hear you, but it still felt nice to give a little goodbye every time you went out. This time you'd use the cave entrance that led up those old wooden stairs. The walkway was a gorgeous deck barely over the water. On high tide it could wash over and hit your feet. Part of you was amazed it was still standing after so many decades of wear and tear.

However, the moment you looked outside it made your eyes squint, weighing heavy on your brow. Was it always this bright during the day?

It got significantly worse once you were fully outside shuffling around the debris littered across the rocks. It wasn't just your average tired eye sting. That was pretty common after spending all night out, and half the day in a dimly lit cave. But you'd never experienced it like this. It was a splitting, throbbing headache that almost made you lose your footing. You had to close your eyes just to feel any kind of relief. Noise was amplified- Oh god, those stupid seagulls made your ears ache!

Walking just made it hurt more. It was taxing on your body, like wading in molasses in August. Now, you weren't a stranger to the heat. After all you grew up on California sunshine. Almost thrived in it. Now you barely made it up the stairs atop the cliffside, until you just had to sit down. Wedged tightly against the banister you reveled in the tiny slivers of shadow that cascaded from the wooden railing. When your jacket became to much you peeled it off to use for cover, and eventually you forced yourself to continue walking. What was happening?? Those few steps were enough to make your stomach wretch and twist with starvation. Truthfully you hadn't been eating well lately, everything just made you nauseous. Stomach flu, maybe. Why was the ground spinning..?

And that was it. The next time your eyes opened the last bits of sun were long gone. Something- no, someone, was shaking you, trying to snap you out of that fog. They yelled out, nearly swinging you around like a ragdoll in a panic. It was muffled, you could hear another voice, then another.

"Y/N! Y/N!"

"Dude, you keep shaking her like that, she's gonna break something."

"What is she doing out here in the first place anyway, man?"

A huge breath of life reanimated your body, almost screaming as you sat up crashing into the chilled chest of Dwayne who still had you in his arms. "Hey, easy, easy. You're okay, it's just us."

Quickly your eyes darted around. Dwayne's arm was hooked under your back elevating you off the ground, Marko was knelt on your other side with Paul leaning on the smaller vampire's back. David was just behind Dwayne with arms crossed, looking down at you.

"You know, Y/N, if your bed was uncomfortable we woulda gotten you another," Paul teased.

"Dude," Marko questioned, lightly elbowing him in the ribs.

"Ow. Aw, c'mon I'm just kiddin'."

Dwayne still wouldn't set you down, pushing sweaty locks of H/C from your face. "What happened," you managed to ask in a raspy voice, carefully shifting your weight onto your butt.

"We found you out here, I was hoping you could tell us," David answered with a cigarette clenched between his teeth, a small flame roasting the end into ashy cinders.

"I honestly couldn't tell you. I only wanted to head over to the boardwalk for an hour or two. I thought I could pick you guys something up on the way back but..," you held the side of your head, the remains of your headache still lingering from earlier. "My stomach hurt all over and.. I just fell."

Something just wasn't adding up, enough that David paused, looking at you. Your heart beat was calm but… every other beat an entirely new rhythm would chime in. Rapid, quiet, stirring. "You sure you hadn't been with anyone else, Y/N?"

"What," You questioned, immediately offended by the implications of that question. Unsurprisingly, Dwayne was equally outraged as he helped you onto your feet.

"Y/N isn't like that, you know this David," he snapped. Dwayne always had that sulking gaze but it wasn't often he was legitimately upset. With his arms still around your waist you could feel his muscles tighten into cement. The atmosphere was so thick you could cuz it with a knife, and after a few minutes of intense glares… Dwayne's eyes widened.

He heard it too. Faster than your own heart beat, buried deep below it was almost too soft to hear. A pulse submerged in water.

He had been so busy worrying about your fainting, he never realized why. It made sense the more he thought about it. Grabbing you, he spun you around to face him. He hadn't intended to be so rough that even Marko was telling him to ease up. "You swear.. you swear you haven't..." The suggestion was cruel. He didn't want to even say it out loud, and your face twisted into one of disgust, slapping his hands off your shoulders.

"Alright that's enough," you snapped, stepping away from all of them. "What is with all of you?! Is this just how you guys check up on people who faint, accuse them of adultery? What the fuck?!"

You could feel tears forming in your eyes and you immediately had to look away. You were not about to show weakness while angry. Dwayne gently took your wrist before you could storm off, looking deep into your eyes. Why did he look so afraid, even in the inky night you could see something haunted those chocolate orbs. "Dwayne...What's going on…," you asked again, this time softening your tone. David, easily sensing the building tension, cleared his throat.

"Marko, Paul, let's wait inside."

"Aw what," Paul chimed in, arms up in the air. "No way man, I wanna know what's going on! What's with all the crazy??"

Marko looked at David, then back and for between you and Dwayne. Oh. He got it. While Paul still protested, Marko slung his arm over his shoulder and yanked him down to whisper in his ear. At first he looked utterly confused, but then his face went wide. The realization of the century. "Ohhhhhhh," he finally said, looking over at you. "Gotcha. Good luck babes, we'll give you guys a little alone time." Both blondes had these odd smirks on their face, no doubt clued in on the inside joke you were definitely a part of yet left completely clueless. David followed them down the steps with a smug grin, giving a small wave.

Alright, now you were confused. Dwayne didn't speak though. He just clasped your hand tightly in his. All he said was "c'mon" while lightly pulling you along. The moon was so huge tonight in lit up the ocean, a sea of stars dipped in black. There you both sat, legs just barely hanging off the edge in utter silence. Whatever it was must have been weighing heavy on his mind because he never turned to look at you. Instead he kept your hand firmly clutched in his own, staring straight off into the unknown. His sigh broke the silence, fingers tightening around your hand again. "There's more than one heart beat… coming from inside you."

It took a moment for what he said to sink in. Another..? What did that-...

Oh. That's why they were being so weird. It was hard to breath, like someone was sitting on top of your chest. And now what haunted Dwayne's thoughts now crept into your own. Their suspicions were reasonable. No one figured that.. well considering the boys were undead it wasn't exactly expected for you to..

"Dwayne I…," you started, looking at him. "I've never been with anyone else. You know that, right?"

This time he couldn't speak, just nod in agreement. Of course he knew you were loyal. Honestly he never doubted it, but the shock of what that meant was a bit much for him to handle. He'd taken care of Laddie alongside Star for years, even before he turned, he was great with kids. But the thought of fatherhood never really crossed his mind. Were he human it'd be common sense, he'd be at the proper age. Maybe even already have a family.

But he was 19. He just… happened to be 19 for a very long time. Quietly he pulled you by your waist so you were beside him, then nudged your head onto his shoulder. You weren't scared, just in awe. For a moment you brushed your hand over your abdomen. It was warm, already firm to the touch. In the months to come you knew it would grow, your baby would grow. But in that moment, as Dwayne's calloused hand placed over yours feeling that little life stir inside you, you felt at peace. That was that. You two sat there for what felt like hours, watching the waves, watching the moon rise high above. It really was a beautiful night. A perfect night. The first night of many more to come.

#lost boys imagine #lost boys 1987 #lost boys #lost boys dwayne #billy wirth #the lost boys #lost boys fanfiction #fanfiction writing #fanfiction #pregnancy #pregnant #vampire pregnancy #pregnancy imagine #lost boys vampires

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snowdice · 4 years

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Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 15]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

I have another fic to edit today! :)

Chapter 5

Virgil sat as still as he could in the dark space he’d been put in. He could feel the warning tingle of the binding magic at his wrists telling him not to move too much or else. He was just lucky that they’d chosen to use metal instead of cloth to apply the potion and that he’d been unconscious until it dried. He knew from experience that there was no escaping the pain that type of potion brought until it dried no matter how still you were. Now, at least, if he didn’t try to struggle against his binding it wouldn’t hurt him. It sucked because all he wanted to do was move. He wanted to struggle and pull against the binding at his wrist, but he couldn’t. Even if it wouldn’t put him in crippling amounts of pain, he’d still not be able to get away.

So, instead he just shook. He was such a fuck up. He couldn’t even remember the right room and now he was going to die. No, he was probably going to be tortured and then he was going to die. His breath came quicker and quicker the longer he remained in the closet. He’d tried to murder their king. He’d come into their prince’s bedroom in the middle of the night wielding a knife. There was no way he wasn’t going to be made to suffer for that. It didn’t matter how gently the prince and his… person had treated him so far.

He heard the muffled sounds of people approaching the closet and curled into himself. Oh, god he was going to die. He had been breathing quickly, but now he couldn’t breathe at all. It felt like someone had poured tar into his lungs. The closet door opened, and he flinched, curled into a ball and choking on nothing.

“Hey, hey,” a familiar voice said. Patton, Virgil’s mind offered: the other guy with the prince. When Virgil managed to flick his eyes open, he saw Patton had gotten to his knees in front of him. He dully noted that the boy had reached out and touched his shoulder. “Oh sweetie, I’m sorry. Can you breathe for me?”

What was the point? He wondered, but after a few moments, he managed to suck in a couple of breaths.

When he managed to calm enough to look around, he noticed that instead of there being a bunch of castle guards standing around waiting to drag him off to some dungeon, it was just the prince and Patton again. He blinked up at them in confusion.

“There’s been a change of plans,” the prince explained.

“What?” Virgil asked dumbly. “What do you mean?”

“My father is going to be away for the next three weeks,” the prince said. “Considering you didn’t kill the guards and your only targets seems to be my father and perhaps myself, you are likely not a real danger to anyone if you escape and I’m willing to take the risk with myself. With that in mind, Patton and I have decided not to turn you in yet.”

Well what the hell did that mean? Was that good or bad? On one hand, it meant that he wouldn’t be executed yet, but what exactly did the prince want with him?

As Virgil began to freak out about the possibilities, the prince continued to speak, seemingly more to himself than to Virgil or Patton.

“We will need to figure out how to care for you in the interim. We’ll have to provide you with more food than just snacks as well as find you a place to sleep. At least one of us will have to be with you at all times, and with Father gone, I’ll have to attend to some royal duties. Luckily it isn’t strange for Patton to come into my quarters at will.” He considered Virgil with discerning eyes. “Also, your general health seems to be lacking, so I’ll have to account for preexisting conditions. First thing, first though. I imagine keeping you in those bracelets all the time would be impractical. We’ll need another solution, especially for sleep.”

Virgil did not like the sound of that. He assumed based on what the prince had done so far that he’d enact some sort of magical bondage. From Virgil’s experience, magical bondage ranged from unpleasant to legitimately agonizing.

“Patton, if you will watch him for the time being, I need to go work on a more precise binding potion then the one I’ve been using.”

“Sure,” Patton agreed, but the prince was wondering away before he’d even finished the word. Patton shook his head fondly before turning back to Virgil. “Wanna come out of the closet now?”

He really, really didn’t, but he was pretty sure he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He curled his legs into himself as much as he could and waited to be dragged out into the room, but he wasn’t touched.

“Okay,” Patton said. “That’s fine. It’s a pretty nice closet.” Virgil said nothing but did breathe a sigh of relief about being able to stay. It wasn’t very rational because in actuality he was no safer here than anywhere else in the room, but the closet felt more defensible even if they could drag him out of it whenever they wanted.

Patton seemed content to sit outside the closet and leave him in peace for the moment. A few minutes later Patton made a sound and Virgil looked over to see him yawn. He smiled when he saw Virgil watching. “It was a long night for all of us, I imagine,” he said. “Hmm… actually. Wait there.”

Like he could go anywhere else. He couldn’t get a good enough angle to see what Patton was doing, but he could here him moving around the room and rustling through a few things. He came back into view holding a comical number of pillows and blankets.

“Here,” Patton said. He offered Virgil one of the blankets and then seemed to remember that Virgil could not reach out to take it. “Hmm…” He spread out the blanket next to Virgil. “Do you mind if I touch you?”

“Why are you even asking?” Virgil asked. “You can do whatever you want with me.”

Patton frowned and Virgil scrunched into himself at the expression, but it lightened the next moment. “I know it’s a bit of a bad situation and you are technically a prisoner, but I don’t want to hurt you or make you feel bad,” Patton said.

Virgil didn’t know how to respond to that. There was no way that it wasn’t some sort of trick, but he didn’t dare outright say that he thought that.

“Can I touch you a bit?” Patton asked once again. “Just to help you get onto the blanket.”

“Sure,” Virgil agreed.

The other boy smiled sweetly and grabbed his wrists with gentle fingers. Virgil let his whole body follow Patton’s guidance until he was situated rather comfortably on an unbelievably soft blanket.

“Head,” Patton said, holding up a pillow. Virgil lifted his head slightly and the pillow was shoved underneath it.

Another blanket was settled over him the next. Patton was weird. “There you go!” Patton said. “Now you can take a nap.”

Virgil blinked up at him in confusion. That was… not happening. What exactly about this situation did Patton think was conducive to sleep?

“…Or rest comfortably at least,” Patton said after a moment. He arranged a pillow and blanket for himself and laid on his side, so he was facing Virgil. He yawned slightly again but didn’t close his eyes. They stared at each other for an uncomfortably long moment.

“What are we doing?” Virgil finally asked when he realized Patton was not planning to ever break the awkward silence.

“We’re resting,” Patton said, “and hanging out.”

“Hanging out?” Virgil asked.

“Mmm, yeah,” Patton said popping up onto his elbow to peer at him. “Let’s talk some! We can get to know each other.”

Virgil looked at him suspicious about where this was going. “Talk about what?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

Patton hummed a quiet tune and his fingers tapped against the side of his face as he wiggled a bit back and forth. “Do you like cats?”

“Cats?” Virgil asked. “Uh… sure?”

“I love cats,” Patton divulged. “There are a lot of cats in the castle. Not all of them like people very much, but I like to try to pet them! I even made up a game where I get points for every cat that lets me pet it. The grumpier they are, the more points I get!”

“You… try to pet wild cats?” Virgil asked.

“Uh huh!”

Virgil thought back to the few untamed cats he’d met in his life. “Don’t they… try to murder you.”

“Sometimes,” Patton said with a shrug. He moved his arm suddenly and Virgil startled, but he just rolled down his sleeve so Virgil could see a large, fairly fresh-looking scratch on his arm. “This one’s from Mr. Calico Man. He does not like his ears touched apparently, but he will let me give him chin scratchies!”

This boy was insane.

“I think I’ve pet every single cat in the castle at least once, except for Ghost Kitty.”

“Who is Ghost Kitty?”

“Oh, Ghost Kitty is the prettiest thing in the world,” Patton gushed. “She hangs out in the gardens a lot, but no one ever can get anywhere near it. She’s completely black and only started showing up about a year ago. I can’t even see her for more than 2 seconds at a time let alone try to pet her, but I will some day and on that day, I’ll get 1,000 points!”

“How many points are they usually?”

“For ones like Mittens and Cleo who I’ve known since they were babies, only 1. For Sandra it’s 5 since she can get a bit tetchy, but usually won’t run away. Lily Flower and Red Hot like to run away, but won’t try to scratch me if I do catch them so they’re 10. Ones like Mr. Calico Man are worth 100.”

“So, you are going to try to pet a cat that is 10x more feral than the one that slashed your arm?”

“She’s so pretty!”

“You have no survival instincts whatsoever, do you?” Virgil asked.

Patton smiled wryly at him. “I apparently have a couple,” he said.

Virgil blinked at him and thought back, connecting the dots. Only Patton and the prince knew he was here, and the prince had been in front of him when he’d came into the room… “You were the one to knock me unconscious,” he concluded.

“I’d say sorry, but you were coming in here with the intention of hurting someone I care about,” Patton said with a shrug.

Right. Virgil had almost forgotten amongst his soft tone and gentle countenance that the man laying docilly next to him definitely hated his guts, and would probably relish in whatever the prince had planned for him.

Virgil let his fists clench, but otherwise didn’t let onto his distress at the thought as Patton softly brought the conversation back to the previous topic and continued to ramble on about the different cats of the castle.

Chapter 6

Virgil had started to feign sleep about an hour after Logan had left to his potions lab. Patton could tell because his arms never relaxed. Patton kept talking to him in soft tones even though he was no longer responding.

He seemed exhausted, but he was also clearly not planning to sleep any time soon. Patton wondered what had led up to him being here both recently which had caused the dark circles under his eyes and long term that had caused the sunkenness of his cheeks.

Patton’s stomach growled reminding him of the passage of time. He had no idea how long whatever Logan was doing was going to take, but someone was going to have to go to the kitchen and get some breakfast soon. The snacks truly had not been enough to hold them through the night.

He felt secure enough even knowing Virgil wasn’t actually sleeping to push himself to his feet and walk over to the potions lab door. “Hey Lo,” Patton called. Virgil still hadn’t moved to indicate he was still awake.

“Yes?” he asked.

“How long are you going to take? I need to get food soon and maybe come up with an excuse for at least one of us to stay here all day.”

“It’ll be a little while longer,” Logan said.

Patton glanced back at Virgil. He caught the boy with his eyes open this time and saw him wince at being caught. “Maybe Virgil can stay in there with you well I go get things?”

“That would be fine,” Logan said, turning back to what he was working on. “Bring him in here if you’d like.”

“Okie dokie,” Patton chirped. He turned to Virgil who was looking up at him. “I’m going to take your arms and lead you to the other room, okay?”

He nodded and Patton leaned down and grabbed his wrists. He went tenser somehow when Patton moved his arms to his front and Patton frowned, but didn’t comment. He helped him get to his feet and led him into the other room.

“You can seat him over there,” Logan said pointing.

Virgil was looking around the room with wide eyes and Patton had to stop and think about what this room might look like to someone who hadn’t been enthusiastically introduced to every new potion ingredient and piece of equipment as they arrived. There were shelves of ingredients, all organized and labeled. He kept all powders in uniform glass vials and liquids in bulbous containers. Whole dried herbs hung from strings in one area and there were containers of fresh ones glowing a soft green; the preservation spells that Logan came up with himself kept them fresh for months longer than they would usually last.

Logan had three separate areas for potion making. There was one space for potions that required more dangerous ingredients which currently had something simmering at it, but the enchanted protective curtain wasn’t drawn around it, so Patton imagined it must not be doing anything that could be too harmful at the moment. The table he used for experiments was empty and thoroughly cleaned so he was clearly making something with an already well-established recipe. Currently, he was standing at his table reserved only for non-harmful substances. He was chopping up what appeared to be mint as two smaller pots boiled in front of him.

Patton led Virgil over to the indicated chair which was out of the way of even the non-dangerous ingredient zone. He still seemed to be trying to take in the room as Patton settled his wrists on the chair armrests.

“Any requests?” he asked Logan.

“Not really,” Logan replied. He glanced up at Patton. “Though if you can sneak me some of the leftover macaroni salad from dinner, that would be appreciated.”

“That’s not breakfast!” Patton chided.

“Which is why I requested that you to sneak it.”

Patton shook his head and turned back to Virgil. “What about you?” he asked.

He looked up at Patton and shook his head. Virgil looked a bit scared and out-of-sorts. He wanted to reach forward and pat him on the head or kiss his cheek to comfort him, but he imagined that would go over worse than badly. Instead, he flashed the boy a quick smile and then turned to leave the room.

He left Logan’s private chambers and closed the door behind him before walking down the hall.

“Good morning Patton,” one of the stationed guards greeted.

He smiled at her and the other guard. “Good morning Kalani. Hi Owen.”

“I see you and the prince had a sleepover,” Kalani said. “Should we be planning on him not making it to his royal duties until later today?”

“Actually,” said Patton. “Maybe all day. He was feeling a little sick. Had a headache.” It was… probably true. They hadn’t slept a wink last night.

“Hmm,” Kalani said. “Maybe there is something going around. Clover said she had a bit of a dizzy spell last night.”

“Oh,” Patton answered. Clover had been one of the two guards set to watch the door to the royal wing. At least Virgil had been telling the truth about not hurting anyone.

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“I hope she feels better. I’m going to go get Logan something to eat for breakfast since he can’t come himself, so I’ll see you again in a few minutes.”

The guards nodded to him and he turned to walk down the hall. The areas around the kitchens would be pretty busy at this point in the morning so instead of taking any of the busier paths to it, he walked past the dinning hall towards the guest hall and took the staircase that led straight outside. It was a longer path because he had to go around and through the garden, but it was worth not getting in anyone’s way.

Patton always did like the garden. It was pretty at every time of year. Even now as the flowers started to get sparser in the fall, it was still wonderful, and it smelt great. He took just the briefest moment to himself to splash a hand through one of the fountains with a giggle. He turned away to continue on his path to the kitchen which is when he saw her.

“Oh,” he said softly. “Hi kitty.”

Ghost Kitty was there and stared at him briefly before taking off into one of the bushes.

“Bye kitty,” he said just as soft. He smiled even though she’d ran away because that was the closest, he’d ever gotten to her.

He continued his trek to the kitchen and snuck inside on quiet feet hoping to be unnoticed as he went for the chilled storage box. Luck was on his side because Mama was busy talking in hushed tones to the gardener, Mr. Deknis, as she peeled potatoes.

“Well certainly no one has joined the kitchen staff who has a child,” Mama said. “I’d know.”

“Perhaps a maid or even a guard,” Mr. Deknis suggested.

Mama was frowning. “We don’t usually hire many people towards winter for those positions. Maybe someone in the stables?”

“But he needed to get back to the castle, not to the stable hand’s lodging.”

“Well then,” Mama said. “I don’t know Jeff. I’ll ask around.”

Mr. Deknis sighed. “I should have asked him more questions, but the poor thing seemed ready to startle out of his boots, and I didn’t want to push.”

“Well if he’s new to the castle, he’s probably just a little out of sorts and nervous,” Mama reasoned.

“It didn’t seem like normal nervousness. He was…” Mr. Deknis shook his head. “Anyway, tell me if you figure anything out.”

“Of course,” Mama said.

“Also, your kid’s steeling macaroni salad for breakfast.”

“Patton!” Mama said, rounding on him. “That’s not breakfast!”

Patton shot a pout at Mr. Deknis, but he seemed unrepentant. Patton pulled his hand away from the macaroni salad. “The prince wanted it,” Patton said.

“That’s not breakfast for ‘the prince’ either.”

“But,” Patton argued, “he’s not feeling well.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Is he not feeling well or is he tired?” she asked.

“…Both?”

“Mmhmm.”

“No! Seriously mom!” Patton said. “Kalani said that Clover wasn’t feeling well this morning and she sees Logan all the time. I even convinced Logan not to do any unnecessary royal duties today.”

“Well he must really be sick if that’s the case,” Mama admitted, “unless of course he found an interesting book to read or had an idea for a new potion.”

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“It’s not about a book or a potion,” Patton promised.

Mama considered him. “Fine,” she said, turning back towards the countertop. “Then give me a few minutes to make him and you a nutritious breakfast that doesn’t consist of 80% mayonnaise.”

“Pancakes?” Patton asked hopefully.

Mama shot him a look over her shoulder. “I said nutritious,” she said, wagging a finger at him. “Besides, I thought you said he was sick.”

“He’s not nauseous, mama,” Patton said. “And if you put blueberries in it, it’ll be healthy!”

“Mmhmm.”

“It will!”

“Now I know my own son doesn’t think I was born yesterday,” she said.

“Please mama,” he begged. “I promise we’ll both eat some other stuff too.”

“I don’t believe you.” Patton gave her a wobbly lip. “No,” she repeated.

“But Mama.”

“You and Logan are going to have a healthy breakfast or so help me…”

“… but Mama.”

Chapter 7

Logan placed a spoon in one of the boiling pots in front of him so he could get a better look at the liquid. It looked dark enough, but he leaned forward to taste it just to be sure. At the moment, it was basically just mint and lavender tea with a couple of extras. Satisfied with it, he slowly poured it into the slightly simmering larger pot in front of him and stirred it a few times clockwise. The pot glowed a soft purple when he took the spoon out.

He glanced into the other small pot and saw that the liquid there was starting to thicken. It wasn’t quite at the honey consistency he needed it to be yet, but it was on track.

Then he glanced up at his guest. Virgil had clearly been watching him but looked away quickly when Logan turned to him. Logan studied him for a few more moments. He looked almost sickly in the light of day, like he’d shatter in a stiff wind. Yet, somehow this was the assassin sent to kill a king? He was an enigma.

Logan turned his attention to the binding potion still simmering on the other table. Virgil cowered slightly as Logan walked by him to check on it. He certainly did startle easy. It was another piece to a concerning puzzle.

The binding potion was coming along well. He stirred it slowly a few times and carefully rinsed off the spoon, so it didn’t get anywhere he didn’t want it before laying it back down. He checked the open book next to it and compared the color to the chart in it. It would need at least an hour or so more before it could be used, but it would be a much better solution to the one that basically glued Virgil’s hands to a chair.

He walked back over to the other potion set up to start cleaning up his supplies.

He had some herbs that he hadn’t used and stuck a mint leaf in his mouth as he returned them to their correct containers. There was a small wedge of honeycomb left on the plate that he’d cut it on. Without even really thinking about it, he cut the honeycomb into to equal parts with the plan to offer half of it to the other presence in the room. He paused and looked up at said other presence who looked down at his lap quickly.

“Would you like half?” he asked. Virgil looked back up at him, hesitance in his eyes. “You can pick which half each of us eats,” Logan offered.

Virgil nodded slowly and Logan rounded the table with the plate. “Left or right?” Logan asked.

“…Left.”

Logan nodded and went ahead and stuck the right piece in his own mouth before offering the left piece. Virgil opened his mouth and Logan popped it into his mouth. Logan almost laughed at the expression that crossed his face as he started to chew. He imagined this is what people were talking about when they mentioned feeding babies different foods for the first time. His eyes went wide, and he blinked a couple of times before chewing a bit faster. Logan smiled at him and took the plate back around to the other side of the table.

The liquid in the second part had gotten thicker now and he stirred it carefully a few times before deciding it was finished. He then turned of the heat and quickly scrapped the sticky substance into the main pot. The purple liquid that had been in the pop slowly turned golden as he counted the number of times he stirred clockwise and then began to sparkle as he stirred it a few times counterclockwise. Once he was finished, he turned off the heat under the pot and wondered over to his case for empty jars. He grabbed one of the liter ones.

While he waited for the potion to cool, he measured out and marked the container with 30 careful lines. It did not need to be an exact intake every day which is why he didn’t bother with separate containers, but for maximum benefit it should generally be about 40ml for the first 10 days and 30ml after that. The lines should help them keep track.

He walked back over to the potion once that was done and placed a funnel into the opening so he could pour it into the container. It perhaps filled a bit more above the top like than 40ml but having a bit extra the first day wouldn’t harm him.

He looked to Virgil who was watching him with suddenly very wary eyes. He rounded the potions station and approached him slowly, hoping not to startle him when he already seemed rather skittish. “Okay, Virgil,” he said. “I’m going to need you to drink this. It’s a…”

“No.”

“W-what?”

“No,” his eyes were locked on the container in Logan’s hand and he shook his head back and forth. “Please no.”

“I assure you, it isn’t poison,” Logan said. “I will even test it myself.” Yet, he was acting differently than he had with the food. He’d begun to shake and cry as he continued to shake his head.

Oh dear. Logan grimaced and set down the potion. He glanced at the door very much hoping that Patton would come through it in the next few seconds, but he did not. “What is…” Logan said. “What is wrong?”

“Please don’t,” he said. “Please. Can’t. No.”

Logan wrung his hands and then went to his knees in front of the hyperventilating boy. He tried to place a comforting hand on his knee, but he flinched violently, and Logan removed his hand quickly. He dithered, unsure what to do as the boy continued to heave with sobs.

“I am not adept with discerning feelings. Please communicate with me verbally.”

He did not seem inclined to capitulate, making pitiful upset sounds that Logan could not determine the meanings of.

“Please, no, hurts.”

“You think it will hurt you?” Logan asked with a frown. “It won’t hurt you Virgil. The purpose of that potion is quite the opposite.”

He either did not hear Logan or did not register what he said. “Please,” he begged. “I’ll be good. I won’t even move. Please.”

Won’t move. Logan glanced over at the other potion still simmering at the other station. “Do you think this is a binding potion?” he asked. “Why on Earth would I be offering you a binding potion to drink?” Yet, Logan watched as he shook and cried, eyes not quite focused on Logan but on something else that wasn’t there. “Did,” Logan with dawning horror. “Did someone feed you a binding potion?”

Logan had once accidently gotten some of a binding potion he was making on his hand. It had stung like a thousand small bees had attacked one area of his skin, and it was only made worse by the fact that even that small amount had kept him trapped in place. Then, binding potions were sticky. They were difficult to remove. Even after the counter potion had been applied, he’d still felt a bit of an ache when he moved it for the next week or so. It’s why one was never supposed to apply it directly to a person’s skin.

Who would make someone drink that? Beyond the assured agony and full body paralysis, it could easily kill someone. If not cooked properly, it was literally poison and even if it was perfect, there was still the possibility that it would freeze a person’s lungs, heart, or any other number of internal organs. If someone had fed Virgil a binding potion (and while he was no expert on facial expressions, the one currently on his face made Logan sure that someone had) they had little regard for his life.

Logan tired his best to soften his expression and tone. “Hey Virgil,” he said. “It’s okay. I won’t force you to drink anything. It’s not a binding potion, but I won’t make you drink it anyway.”

It took him a bit to calm down, but finally his breaths started to even out. “Are you alright?” Logan asked.

Virgil nodded after a moment.

“Good.” He waited for a few minutes for Virgil to calm down even more before he said anything else. “I will not make you drink any potions,” Logan promised. “Though, if you wouldn’t mind, I would like to explain the option.”

He gave Logan a suspicious blink, but he didn’t seem inclined to have another fit at the sentiment.

“It is not a binding potion,” Logan started with. “I am making one for you, but I have no intention of having you consume it. What I was offering to you is medicinal. Both Patton and I noted that you seem unhealthy and likely malnourished. While nothing can reverse the effects of malnutrition completely, the potion I made would help prevent many future problems as well as let your body acclimate to a more nutritious diet easier.”

Virgil squinted at him. “Why?” he asked. “I’m your prisoner. Why would you want to help me?”

“You are my prisoner which means you are under my care,” Logan said. “I will not abide by your suffering if I can prevent it. That being said, if drinking the potion causes you undue mental distress, I will not force it upon you.”

Virgil studied him, eyes hard and suspicious, but his words were tentative when they came. “Does it hurt bad?” he asked.

“It doesn’t hurt at all,” Logan promised. “Allow me to demonstrate for you?” He nodded and stood to retrieve the potion.

Logan placed his thumb over the lid of the container and tilted it until he felt the liquid hit his skin. He pulled his hand away and showed Virgil the notable drops of liquid on his thumb before opening his mouth and clearly placing it on his tongue. “It mostly tastes like the honey I put in it,” he told him, “plus a bit of lavender and mint. It does have a slightly sour aftertaste, but overall, it’s fine. How about just a small amount to start and then you can decide if you want to drink the rest of the dose for the day?”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed.

“I’m going to put this bottle to your lips. You can take as little as you wish.” Virgil nodded and Logan leaned forward and pressed the container to his mouth. Virgil kept his lips firmly closed as Logan titled it up briefly before taking it away. Virgil’s tongue came out to swipe up a bit of the liquid on his lips. He seemed to brace himself as he waited for something to happen, but he calmed after a few moments.

“Oh,” he said. “That’s not bad.”

“It is not intended to be,” Logan said. “Would you be willing to drink a bit more?”

Chapter 8

Whatever the potion was that the prince had just given him made his mouth tingle slightly. It was not an unpleasant sensation. In fact, it was actually kind of nice, and it tasted pretty good though not as good as the honey he’d been offered earlier. It did, as Logan had said, have a bit of a sour taste under the sweet of the honey. Yet, the way it sort of warmed his tongue almost made up for that.

He bit his lip, wondering if he was making a mistake and having more than a taste would rip apart his insides, but still replied, “yes,” when Logan asked if he was willing to drink more.

“Okay,” Logan said, tapping his finger on the container in his hands. “I’d like you to drink about to this line today if you can, but you can go as slow as you like.”

Virgil nodded. “Okay.”

Logan offered the container again and this time Virgil opened his mouth for it slightly. Logan tilted it slow, letting Virgil control the pace. It was still slightly warm from being cooked, but there was a bit of unnatural warmness to it as well. It slid down his throat easily when he swallowed, and Virgil could feel it go to work the instant it hit his stomach.

Virgil paused and Logan let him. The warmth didn’t fade. Instead, it seemed to radiate out and through him. He opened his lips again and Logan tilted a bit more of the liquid into his mouth. He drank until Logan pulled the container away and looked at the level of the liquid. Seeming to be satisfied with how much Virgil had drank, Logan capped the container and moved away.

“You should drink a little bit more each day until this is empty,” Logan said.

“O-okay,” Virgil agreed. The effects of the potion hadn’t faded. There was a pleasant, warm buzzing all over his skin at this point.

It seemed to congregate where he knew there were still a few leftover bruises on his back fizzling there slightly under the skin. He let out a breath and felt his head slightly droop, suddenly felling very sleepy.

Logan turned back to him and seemed to notice. “Apologies,” Logan said, “I did forget to mention that it has a general healing potion in it as well. If you were at all injured and it needed to activate, you may feel some drowsiness. Though it should in no way be enough to force you asleep if you do not wish it.”

12766

A potion with a sleeping agent sounded like something Virgil should be concerned about, he thought, but he couldn’t quite manage to summon any anxiety over it for once. He felt himself list a bit to the side.

“…Of course,” Logan continued. “I did not account for the fact that I have no idea when you last slept, and you are also likely suffering from an adrenaline crash considering your panic a few minutes ago.”

Those… sounded… like… words?

“Oh dear,” Logan said. “Let’s not fall asleep in the chair.” He felt Logan hovering over him and squinted up at him.

“I’m going to touch you now, alright?” Logan asked. Everything felt kind of floaty and he felt warm but not too hot all over, like he’d fallen asleep at the exact right distance from a fire. His eyes slipped shut and he couldn’t quite recall why that made a bit of panic shoot up his spine. Said panic was dulled immediately by the crashing waves of exhaustion and a comforting lack of pain anyway. “…Virgil?”

“Mmmph.” The identity of the speaker didn’t quite stick anymore, but it didn’t sound mad so it was probably fine.

“...I will take that as consent.” Gentle hands pushed him back up into a sitting position where he had been listing to the side and then Virgil’s wrists were grabbed. Virgil confusedly staggered to his feet when he was pulled up and immediately stumbled into something warm. He decided to lean against it. Leaning against it sounded good.

“When is the last time you slept, Virgil?” The voice rumbling from the warm thing supporting Virgil’s weight registered as chiding, but there didn’t seem to be any danger coming from it. He was given a soft push and he tripped in that direction. A warm band went around his waist to steady him and then pulled him forward. Virgil allowed himself to be guided, leaning heavily against the warmth next to him. He was stopped after an unknown amount of walking. “I’m going to have to put you in the closet again for now since I have to keep watch over the binding potion. However, it seems as though Patton has already constructed a comfortable enough sleeping area there anyway.”

“Mmmnum.”

“Would you lay down for me?” Laying down sounded fantastic right now. The walking was not fun and had made him even more tired. He let his body slump forward until his knees hit something very soft and then toppled onto his face. There was a sigh from above him and then hands were pushing at him until he rolled over onto his side. When one of the hands strayed near his head, he pressed his cheek into it.

“This would be something Patton would find adorable if it wasn’t a result of my unintentionally drugging you, injuries, and sleep deprivation.” The hand Virgil had been leaning into carefully lifted his head and when it was lowered again, his ear sunck into a plush thing. Something soft was pulled on top of Virgil, covering him from head to toe and then the warm thing drew away. Virgil whined at the loss.

There was a pause. “Here.” Something soft and squishable was placed under his chin and Virgil curled his arms around it, pulling it to his chest. “Sleep well. I’ll be back to check on you periodically” There was a soft click and then the world got even darker behind his closed eyelids. Virgil drifted off to sleep.

“I think if we put a few more blankets and pillows in here, it would work okay,” a voice was saying when Virgil started to wake.

“You think he needs more?” another voice asked.

“Yes, Logan,” the first voice chided. “We want him to be comfortable.”

Speaking of comfortable, Virgil had no idea where he was at the moment or what was happening, but he was very comfortable. There was soft fluffiness closing him in on all sides and what felt like a really nice pillow under his head. He curled up even more around whatever he was holding against his chest.

“Aw, Logan look,” the first voice cooed. There was a slight pause and a light smacking noise. “Don’t roll your eyes! You’re the one who gave him Barnaby!”

“…He was distressed.”

“Uh huh.”

“Shut up.”

Virgil was starting to wake up a bit more. He squirmed a bit and opened his eyes a crack to see two figures in front of him.

“Hey there,” Patton said, noticing him move. “You waking up?”

Virgil blinked a couple of times. He was still a little sleepy… right, Logan had given him a potion that had a sleep aid. He should probably be a bit more upset about that, but considering he was waking up without any problems, he thought it was okay.

“Hey there,” Patton said softly. “How’re you doing?”

“Uh… I’m okay,” Virgil answered.

“Good.”

Virgil looked around himself and found that he was covered in a thick blanket and had something wedged between his restrained arms near his chest. He gave it a confused looked.

“That’s Barnaby,” Patton said. “He’s my stuffed bear.”

“Oh,” Virgil said staring at it. He couldn’t see much more than the top of it’s furry head. “Do you want him back.”

“You can keep him for now,” Patton said. “His job is to help make people feel better and you seem like you maybe need him right now.”

“O-okay?”

Patton smiled brightly at him which seemed weird because all Virgil had done was keep something that belonged to Patton. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “Lo and I already ate a bit ago, but we kept the rest of it warm for you.” Well that was an offer Virgil wasn’t about to refuse.

“I would like to eat,” Virgil said hesitantly. “I-if that’s okay?”

“Of course, sweetie,” Patton said.

“Actually, if you wait a few more minutes,” Logan said. “I will have a way for you to eat more easily.” Virgil looked over at him questioningly. “The new binding potion finished up and I have been letting it dry on new restraints that will give you more freedom of motion,” he explained. Virgil did not relish the experience of having more binding magic applied to him, but at least it didn’t sound like he’d be forced to drink anything or that it would be poured directly on his skin. Virgil didn’t know what he meant by ‘more freedom of motion,’ but it sounded like something he’d want.

“Okay,” he agreed.

#proofread stories #not writing

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nelllraiser · 4 years

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BM and TJ: A Light Snack | Frank & Nell

TIMING: present. LOCATION: soul on the rocks. PARTIES: @frankmulloy and @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: frank gets more than he bargained for on his shift in the form of a bar fight that nell may or may not have started. he doesn’t get paid enough for this.

Soul on the Rocks wasn’t Nell’s usual haunt when it came to getting a drink. It had something of a reputation for housing seedy guys who didn’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. Not to mention Creepy-Joe who just stood in the corner as if it was his job. But the often questionable nature of its patrons also made it a decent place to pick up a few supernatural bounties from time to time, and it wasn’t exactly a secret that she was up to her ears in hospital bills that needed paying. So Soul on the Rocks would have to do. Regrettably, it didn’t seem that a new job was in the cards for her tonight, and it couldn’t have been all of fifteen minutes before some guy had already managed to piss her off with comments that weren’t welcome even after she threatened to break his fingers. Sure— she technically threw the first punch, decking him clean across the face before he could realize what was happening, but as far as she was concerned he’d been asking for it. It only took a quick breath for the other bar-goers to smell a fight brewing, and quite a few of them readily joined in, always eager to get the blood pumping. Soon enough there was a notable mass of writhing and punching humans, with Nell at the center of it trying to get a hit in wherever she could manage it. “It’s not my fault you’re an ugly bastard!” she yelled blindly at the latest person to try and kick her.

What godly force did Frank manage to piss off in his past life that every shift he’s on at the piss pot bar somehow ended up with somebody getting their teeth kicked in? Somehow, in the end, it was usually always Frank. Pheromones, he found were only of any use when the want to fuck is greater than the will to fight, Frank’s--what word did the shrink say to use? Not curse...ahh yes-- ability only served to fuel the former. Which was probably for the best. With great effort, Frank put away the glass he had been cleaning, and threw the towel over his shoulder--not unlike a willing fighting entering a ring. Only thing was, Frank wasn’t a willing fighter. He just wanted to do his job, get paid and go home. Frank wanted lots of things, like not wanting a stray elbow to ram into his side from an over-zealous spectator. “Move,” came after he had already physically moved that, and several other bodies from his way. An easy task when you towered over a lot of them. Frank had to move a lot of people in his job, it was probably one of the reasons why he was hired. At the centre of the commotion, he grabbed the closest body to him, taking care that it was skin on clothes and not the alternative. He pulled one back and pushed at the other, creating a separation that (hopefully) reason could exist in. That was Frank, he was reason. “Alright people, you wanna beat each other’s face in, you do it outside. Not in here. Let’s all be adults about this, no one needs to be kicked out.” Fuck, he was fucking tired.

Nell was in the zone, kicking and punching and dipping like she was back in the supernatural fighting Ring she’d been a part of no more than a few months ago. Before… helping to blow it up, of course. Ever so slowly, the crowd was seeming to thin, and she could hear a booming voice ring out over it, though the words were hard to actually make sense of. All of the sudden, a large, blond shadow moved over her, and it seemed that another had entered the fray. He was huge, but that didn’t stop her from sending him a challenging glare, a frown etched onto her lips as the adrenaline continued to pump through her veins, her heart thumping in unison with the simple manta of ‘fight’ that was running through her mind. She still couldn’t quite figure out what he was saying over the din of the scuffle, but decided it didn’t matter. If he wanted a fight, he could definitely have one. “Fuck off!” she yelled without thinking, and as his arm came close, she reflexively reached out to bite, like an angry puppy that was working off of instinct. Perhaps if she’d taken a single second longer to look at the man she would have recognized him as one of the bartenders, but thinking before action had never been her strong suit in situations like this.

Frank has been kicked, punched, headbutted, slashed, and in every other manner in which is violent. He’s yet to have been bitten however. His first thought shouldn’t have been (but it was) oh...this is different. His second thought was, “what the fuck?!” As he grabbed the girl by the scruff of her shirt and pried her teeth off his arm, a wet dotted half moon embedded into the skin as a reminder of his misjudgement. This proved to be another momentary relapse of attention that resulted in a fist across his jaw from her opposer. One that carried enough force behind it to jerk his head to one side. Now, Frank seldom got angry, and he wasn’t angry now, honestly! What he was, was loud, and stern, and the two were often mistaken for one another owed to his size. This was probably another reason why he was hired. “That’s enough.” One hand still firmly holding the scruff of the little she-wolf-- wisely keeping her at a distance where no teeth could attach itself onto any unsuspecting limbs-- the other grabbed the collar of her opposition’s shirt, as he hauled them both toward the door. With more force than he had intended, Frank shoved idiot number two out the door, watching with some small sympathy as he stumbled toward the curb and then onto his face. His jaw reminded him that he need not waste anyway. Now, to idiot number one. “You,” he said, “now I’m gonna let you go, but I swear to god if I so much as see a single tooth…” Gingerly, he does.

When she felt the hand tug her by the collar, some cursed cross between a snarl and a growl found itself rising from Nell, and she instantly started squirming, trying to get a hit on anything she could touch while trying to move enough that he would be forced to drop her. “Let go of me!” she yelled insistently as a warning to a man who was well over a foot taller than her, apparently uncaring of any possible consequences, and still not quite having the clarity in the haze of the fight to realize that this man worked here. She could feel her magic kicking in and pooling in her gut, asking for direction as fight soundly squashed flight into a pulp, running away having never been an option. Unleashing any magic probably wouldn’t be wise at the moment, though— and she tamped the rising feeling down as she was finally released, still refusing to stay still the entire time to the door and even for a moment after the man’s hand had left her collar. “Who the hell do you think-” Nell had been in the middle of asking who exactly this man thought he was, but she finally got a good enough look at him to recognize him as one of the people that had been on the other side of the bar, slinging out drinks. “Oh…” she said rather ungracefully as realization dawned on her. He’d been trying to break up the fight, hadn’t he? “He started it!” she insisted with a wild point towards the man that had just been tossed to the curb. In another moment her arms crossed over her chest, and the rampant aggressive nature that had been on display before ever so slowly began to chip away. Oh shit. She’d bit him, hadn’t she? And not in the way most men liked. “If you see a single tooth you’ll what?” It was less of a genuine challenge and more of a beginning of trying to salvage things.

That was a good point. What was he going to do? The answer was one he knew immediately and so did pride, and it halted the reply on his tongue. Nothing, Frank wasn’t going to do anything. What were the alternatives? Throw her to the curb? Swing a wild fist at her face? Anger had lost its hold on the girl and he could slowly see reason and comprehension formulating behind her eyes as she was no longer blinded by its red lens. Any suggestion of further violence would be ill advised, and while Frank wasn’t the smartest guy around, he wasn’t stupid. In any case, Frank never had much of an appetite for violence. He was always the type more ready to take the punch than to cash it out. Kindness, he thought, was a more valuable currency, although it wasn’t as if he readily gave those out either. “I’m going to call you a cab and send you home.” Somehow that sounded more menacing in his head. He was already pulling out his phone and punching in a series of numbers. One of them was getting a cab, and it was up to her whether she’d be joining the sorry idiot that was slowly picking himself up from the side of the curb. “Sit down, and shut up.” His previous display of bravery significantly injured, he sat down without a word. Good. Frank put his phone to his ear, the other hand absently nursing the bite mark on his forearm. “And by the way, ‘he started it’? What are you, seven? Actually...did anyone ask for your ID— hello? Hi, yeah, I need a cab at Soul...yeah, Soul for the Rocks...For one,” he turned and gave her a pointed look, “or maybe two, we’ll see when you get here.”

Nell’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as his claim of calling a cab was revealed, as if she were scrutinizing it for any possible bluffs. But she didn’t have a chance to comment on it before his phone was already out, and apparently he hadn’t been joking about getting at least one cab. As the other man in question plopped down, Nell didn’t let up in glaring daggers at him, finding that entertaining enough to preoccupy her for the moment being. Her middle finger was itching to come up and flip off the douchebag, but she kept her arms firmly folded where they’d settled, trying her best not to be threatened with a cab once more. But she didn’t care much for the bartender’s phone call as he jibed at her. “I’m not seven! It’s true! He’s the one who was being a dick!” It probably didn’t help that her foot stomped instantly against the ground with the words, not unlike someone who was throwing a tantrum. “My ID?” The exasperation and indignance that entered her voice was akin to what it might have been if someone asked if she liked mimes. The most horrible of offenses. “I’m twenty-three! And it’s for one!” she insisted without hesitation, standing on tiptoe to try and get as close to the phone the giant man was holding to tell the cab driver that she’d be going nowhere in a taxi. Then she addressed the man grasping the cell phone directly. “Besides- I have my bike here!” Her thumb jabbed towards the spot where she’d parked her motorcycle. “And I didn’t even really drink.” She’d been looking for work, so getting drunk wouldn’t have been smart.

She actually stomped her foot. “Yeah, now I’m convinced.” Frank was tall, she was not, but keeping her away from his phone proved to be an uphill battle as she tried to speak into the receiver, threatening the space that he had carefully crafted between them, with each new attempt. He spared a fleeting glance in the general direction of her thumb, hoping to appease any further attempts. “Alright, alright, will you please just-- hello?...yeah, yes, I’m still here...excellent...thank you. I’ll be waiting outside. Thank you.” Now that that was out of the way. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you incapable of exercising some form of restraint? Oh and if someone is being a dick, you call security to kick them out, not start a brawl in the middle of a crowded bar.” Or bite people when they’re trying to help you! The latter never made it past pride’s careful guard, though the thought was betrayed in the form of his hand returning to nurse the tender spot. The cab pulled up not much sooner, and to keep himself from saying or doing anything else that might betray his thoughts, he turned his back to the woman and proceeded to stuff idiot number one into the back of the cab. Producing a handful of notes from his own back pocket, he deposited them into the driver’s window. “Just him. Make sure he gets into his front door please, thanks.” There was a pause as the driver muttered something through the window, Frank turned his head back to where the woman was standing. He seemed to have to think about his reply, but at last decided, “no, just this one. Thanks man.”

Nell’s frown only deepened as Frank’s sarcasm pervaded the air, her hands quickly going back into a stubborn cross over her middle. “I’m just saying,” she grumbled, not actually entirely finishing the thought aloud. This time she waited not quite patiently, but in a manner that was much more subdued than before as he finished up his call. Unfortunately, her offense was quick to return as soon as he started asking questions again. “What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you ask what’s wrong with him?” Her open palm jerked roughly towards the man still sitting desolate on the curb. “Why am I the one being yelled at for restraint when he’s the one who doesn’t keep his hands to himself! He could learn some restraint!” Her features quickly returned to something akin of an angry pout before she continued on, raising her nose stuffily into the air. “Security looked...busy.” It was a bald-faced lie. She hadn’t even bothered to look at security. Nell watched as his hand found the place she’d bitten him, and again her exterior lost a few of its prickles. “Did I...bite you hard or-?” An inkling of an apology was creeping through her voice. After all, even if the guy in front of her was making her bristle, he probably didn’t deserve to be bitten in a fight. “Is it bleeding?” she asked, trying to get a closer look. As the taxi pulled away without her in it, Nell scowled after it— as if she could burn a hole through the seat where the man she’d been fighting was sitting. “So you work here.” It wasn’t so much a question, and she wasn’t sure where she was going with it, but it was something to say that was neutral rather than combative.

“I’m not yelling at you!” Frank was in fact yelling at her. He realised this too and softened his tone to one more closely related to a sort of...diplomatic reprimand. “I’m not yelling at you, I’m just saying, there are better alternatives to fixing a problem than by punching it. And that was a test by the way. You failed. The security; that’s me. I wasn’t that busy.” At her remark, Frank’s eyes fell on his forearm, as if noticing the degree of injury for the first time. The dark spots of blood rising to colour in the indents left by the set of teeth; just sitting beneath the surface of the skin as no puncture was actually made, but still carrying with it the threat of spilling over if there was. A bigger ring surrounded the mark, red and angry, but would surely yellow and then disappear over time. Probably by tomorrow morning at the latest. Now that he was taking the time to examine his injury, he had almost forgotten that he was punched, and now that the adrenaline was no longer needed, the pain in his jaw made itself known. Frank pulled down the sleeve of his jacket. Stepping back before she could step forward. “No, it’s not. Don’t worry about it.” The change in her demeanour was welcomed progress, although this wasn’t saying a great deal considering how ready she was to, quite literally, rip into him before. “Well, I’m not here for the friendly crowd.” There was a pause as a sort of peace had settled between them, and Frank was not oblivious to how fragile it was and was even more careful not to break it. “Look, are you okay?”

Nell was all too ready with a rebuttal to his claims of not yelling, but before she could get it out he rectified that particular situation, and she bit her words off before they could manage to surface. “I don’t know- punching always seems to work pretty well for me. And I tried to tell him to fuck off. He didn’t seem interested in doing that.” There was a flicker of humor to her voice this time, her temper once again fading into something less volatile for a moment. “Okay, well that’s not fair. You can’t give me a test without telling me. What kind of teacher are you, anyway? But you’re security?” she asked curiously, looking him over and ignoring the fact that she’d been caught in a lie. Again the disapproving curve of her mouth only dipped deeper as he tugged down his jacket. “If it’s not bleeding, then let me see,” she said— her tone firm once again, but filled with less hostility and more determination. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of him stepping away. Maybe he just liked personal space? Or maybe he was worried she’d bite him again if he said something to anger her which was...fair enough. “Are you saying I’m not friendly?” she continued along the vein of a truce they’d managed to find, her fickleness in her emotions knowing no end. Confusion was quick to grip her as she blinked at his question, her knee-jerk answer of, “What?” probably too much of a give away as to how unexpected his query had been. “I mean- I’m fine,” she tentatively replied, not particularly used to people she’d bitten asking how she was doing. If any new bruises did arise from the scuffle tonight, she’d be hard-pressed to identify them with the steady collection of purple and yellow spots she generally sported from her line of work. “What about you? You’re not dying or something, are you?”

Alas, what more could Frank say to that? It wasn’t as if Soul was known to attract the upstanding citizen type. For most of its patrons, their problems could not be solved any other way so they found comfort instead at the bottom of a shot glass or a beer bottle, or a well placed fist on an unsuspecting face (and then there’s Joe, but he’s another species entirely). All Frank could really do was make sure nobody kills each other in the process; and fights never last too long when Frank’s on shift, which means he must be doing something right. “Well I’m not a teacher, I’m the deterrent.” Frank kept his arm firmly by his side, one foot behind him in a strategic shift of weight should she prove to be as persistent as he suspected. It looked bad, yes, but that was now, and there was nothing more awkward than having someone witness an ugly injury, and the next day to find no trace of the previous night’s violence. He’d rather avoid that conversation if he could help it. “I’m saying you need to exercise restraint, and take people at their word when they say they’re fine and drop it.” However, a great deal could be said of one’s character, and their history, when their first response to ‘are you okay?’ was ‘what?’, and her reaction was not lost on him. But for the sake of keeping peace, and with no visible injury to invoke any immediate concern, he did not press. “Trust me, as long as my head stays on my shoulder, I don’t die easy.” He thought that he said it with enough casual grace to warrant no great suspicion. “I’ve worked here long enough to say with some confidence that tonight was not the worst night I’ve had. Come on Bitey McFierce, if you promise not to punch anyone else tonight I’ll pour you a beer.”

“Well if you’re not a teacher, then why are you giving tests?” Nell quipped back in the same moment the man had finished his sentence. It seemed she was still making the shift from aggressor to casual nuisance. Again, she took him in all at once, giving him a look over before saying to the tree of a man, “I bet I could take you.” It was still meant to have a home in that in between place they’d seemed to have found themselves, testing the waters of how far she could take her teasing. But then she was giving him a hearty eyeroll as he continued to preach the virtues of restraint. As for whether or not she’d drop the subject of a potential injury— she carefully mulled the thought over, deciding just how far she wanted to push. She was pretty sure she hadn’t tasted blood, and if he wanted to be some macho man and pretend he was fine when he wasn’t...it wouldn’t be her funeral. On the other hand, pure stubbornness was egging her on. “You’re bossy.” Was all she settled on after chewing the inside of her cheek. “But I should warn you I have rabies.” That was transmitted by biting, wasn’t it? She wasn’t entirely sure. But what a strange way to phrase that he didn’t go down easy. As long as his head was on his shoulders? Maybe she just wasn’t familiar with the saying, but it also made her think of how the undead were rather indestructible unless they lost their noggins. His casual delivery of the words were enough to make her brush past it, though. “Bitey McFierce?” she echoed with a cross between a scoff and an amused snort. “That’s the best you can do? I don’t know why I expected better of you, but I did....Turkey Jerky.” It was the first thing that had come to mind when she thought of things that might be hard to chew. “No promises,” she answered without thought, both being raised in White Crest and her general everyday experiences with fae nearly replying for her. Still- it was light enough to come across as still being her impish self, and Nell had intended it as such a thing. “And my name is Nell.” This didn’t seem like a moment to explain that it was short for Penelope. “Maybe you can come up with something half decent with that.”

It takes everything in Frank to bite back a retort. It would only serve to prolong this nonsense back and forth that she’s somehow trapped them in, and perhaps that was exactly what she wanted. If you can’t him, annoy them to surrender, which is why he was determined to give her precisely the opposite. “I am sure that you can,” he said, and the words, oddly, did not hold even a shadow of sarcasm. Of course, beating someone was easy when they weren’t willing to fight back, although a gut instinct told him that she was the type to enjoy a challenge or not at all. Or maybe she just enjoyed winning, who knows? He’s been wrong about people before. Although it seemed he was at least correct in her persistence, the woman would not shut up. “I am.” And he was. “Consider me warned.” He said, bearing the brunt of her nuisance with infinite patience. Although a weathered wall was not without its cracks, and the occasional jibe could, and did, muscle its way through every now and then, usually when he least expected it. “Turkey Jerky?” What the fuck did that mean? He can’t imagine a single characteristic about him, or his behaviour that might even resemble a jerky. Was he a jerk? He thought himself perfectly restrained, all things considered, her on the other hand... “Right. That’s reassuring.” Frank scratched his arm. His words were accompanied by a wary look and delivered with no great confidence. At least when he returned to his usual spot behind the bar, he knew who to keep an eye on. Nell, that can’t be a real name. A nickname, he decided. Yet deep in the pit of his stomach he felt an itch: what was her real name? This wasn’t Frank. The impulse was biological, totemic, ancient, and it made him uneasy. He scratched the back of his neck. “Frank. And I’ll let you know as soon as you come up with something that makes more sense than turkey jerky.”

#wickedswriting #BM and TJ: A Light Snack #chatzy #ch:frank

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insfiringyou · 4 years

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BTS - ‘One Last Time’ - V leaves for the military (V x Cassandra)

Contains: Angst. Smut.

Set a few months after V and Cassandra’s historical roleplay goes wrong and she was forced to use her safeword, and following the events of ‘Refuge’ where Taehyung moves out of their shared apartment, Cassandra seeks closure on their relationship before he enters the military.

This is a major part of our headcanon universe and ongoing storyline (find out more here) - this is set after Jin, Suga, RM, J-Hope and Jimin have started their military enlistment.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook

& Our full masterlist can be found here

Rated Content below the cut

She unclasped the polka dot skirt as she locked the door and stepped out of the wide pool of fabric, turning to the pair of washed-denim jeans she had slung over the back of her chair before the show. It had been a two week stint at the small theatre and her throat was a little sore from singing. ‘Dreamboats and Petticoats’...her friend had shown her the advertisement for the part in the local newspaper and, while it wasn’t Broadway, the month of practise for the song and dance numbers had kept her mind and body occupied, preventing her thoughts from running wild.

The lighting was dim in the dressing room, but a sparkling glimmer in the large mirror caught her eye and her heart began to thud heavily as she eyed the large crystal vase on the table, a sea of blood-red flowers cascading over the sides. She considered who had let him backstage during the show, before she spotted the delivery receipt from a local florist on the dresser, weighed down by a tall bottle of Dior foundation. With a trembling hand, she knowingly teased through the lightly-spiced stems and petals until she found what she was looking for. The note had been handwritten; one corner of the paper slightly curled from the moisture of the bouquet.

I leave on Friday

Always yours,

Tae

She put the note down slowly, surprised to find that her eyes had started to water. She had known for months he was due to go in and had subconsciously been avoiding the news websites she usually scrolled through for the past few weeks, not wanting to get involved. The flowers caught her eye once more, their fresh, sweet scent filling the room just as they had done on the day they met. Even the vase, a tall, crystal number, seemed identical and she wondered what had happened to the original. Had she lost it when moving apartments? Getting dressed and with a heavy heart that seemed to be beating too fast, she made up her mind and grabbed her car keys from her purse, deciding to forego the wrap-up party which was already taking place in the foyer, but gulping a free chute of champagne on her way past.

***

Roaming her eyes over the set of buttons, she struggled to recall which number Jimin resided at. A familiar pang of frustration rose in her as she reached in her jean pocket and pulled out her cell, flipping through the string of text messages between her and Taehyung, vaguely remembering him texting her the address a few weeks before. The fact he had sold his cozy, top-floor apartment in Gangnam to move into her cramped studio had been an arguing point from day one, and now, with an ounce of bitterness, she hoped he finally realised what a stupid thing he had done. It had been the first of many tense moments between them in the months leading up to the sex act which had gone so terribly wrong and she couldn’t help but wonder if they had been allowed more space apart, more breathing room, their lives wouldn’t have become so poisonously entangled that they needed to push each other to such extremes. It was pointless thinking of that now - what had happened had happened and, while they had texted intermittently in the past two months, with time healing some of the hurt he had caused her that night, she wouldn’t be able to forgive him completely.

She found the message she was looking for and pressed the buzzer on the intercom, unable to remember which of the four floors Jimin’s apartment was on. She automatically took a step back as the front door opened, the sight of Taehyung on the doorstep, wearing a pair of frustratingly attractive glasses beneath his dark, curly hair, leaving her a little winded. He was clutching a crumpled paperback between his long fingers, the title unreadable in the small distance between them and she noticed how mature he looked; how his usually boyish features had changed in the months since she last saw him. She didn’t know what to say and could see he was likewise stunned into silence. Remembering why she had come; the flowers he had sent, she felt a stab in her chest and slowly moved forward, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. His sweater was soft against her cheek, his scent familiar, as she held him close, feeling his hands cautiously touch her back, his fingers splaying as he hugged her gently.

“You’ve still got your hair…” She eventually murmured, realising they had been silent for half a minute as she pulled away. He looked surprised to see her; it was something in the way his dark eyes twitched which only someone who knew him as intimately as she had done would notice.

“I thought I’d enjoy it while I still can.” He replied slowly, his hand moving subconsciously to touch the edges of the tightly permed locks, as though in a daze. “You got my flowers.” It was not really a question and when he stepped aside, she followed him into the building without a pause, waiting for him to lead her into the ground floor apartment.

“How did you know I was performing?” She asked, waiting for him to close the door behind them before taking a few more steps into the narrow hallway. The pastel hue of the wallpaper along with the framed photographs which perched on the edge of a painted cabinet suggested the decor had been chosen by Ara; her and Jimin’s matching smiles filled the photo frame, the picture taken at a beach. She eyed, beyond that, a golden trophy she vaguely recognised from the MAMA awards and wondered whether it was Jimin’s or Ara’s.

“I saw a review online.” He shrugged easily beneath his pale turtleneck sweater.

“I just took it for the money…” She paused, cheeks a little pink. The musical, which mostly attracted the older residents of the city along with their grandchildren, was not exactly the type of gig she had planned when going into acting. But then again, why should she have to feel embarrassed in front of him? “And the costumes.” She added with a smile.

“I love Buddy Holly.” He murmured sincerely, making her wonder whether he had even noticed her blush.

“I know…” She whispered. A quick glance in the living room told her, as expected, he was alone. While the basics of the furniture were clearly not to his taste, the various objects lying around were clearly his; indicating he had been occupying the place for a number of months. She tried to recall how long Jimin had been away but failed. She guessed Ara must still be on tour, or otherwise happy to stay elsewhere while Taehyung stayed in the apartment. She wondered whether he had started looking for a new place yet, somewhere he could return to after all of this was over. “Do you have time?” She met his gaze.

“Yes...it’s just me here…” He confirmed, leading her into the adjoining space. She looked over the small pile of books littered on the coffee table as he put down the one he was currently reading. She could see the crumpled cover now it lay face up; the image of a train track fading into the distance beneath the title ‘Different Seasons’. “Do you have something else lined up?” He asked, hovering by the doorway to the kitchen, waiting to see if she would sit down.

“Not yet.” She turned to face him, once more taken aback by how bookish and academic he looked in this unfamiliar place.

“I’ve been thinking about what happened…” He started, needing to say something to break the awkward air between them. She could see he had been holding onto this for months, unable to express his feelings in a text or phone call, and needing to see her face-to-face to explain in person. “I want you to know how sorry I am…”

The longing in his voice made her stomach drop, knowing he had spent months coming to terms with what had happened... He seemed so harmless and, looking at him now, she found it hard to believe how scared he had made her. A part of her knew, deep down, that this didn’t mean anything...that whatever had caused him to act out that night was still in him somewhere and she hoped that whatever toxic environment had caused their relationship to sour so quickly, he would know next time if it were to happen with someone else, to stop himself before it was too late.

“I just couldn’t leave things the way they were.” She admitted with a sigh, knowing that while it was not perhaps the most sensible option, it was the truth. “When you sent the flowers…” She found herself staring into space. “I remember why I fell for you in the first place.”

“Red carnations…” He murmured in a low voice.

“Because you wanted me...I know.” She nodded, recalling in perfect clarity how he had looked when she first saw him; the silk shirt he wore with the top set of buttons unfastened casually as she caught him in the foyer, the delivery boy ratting him out as being the one to have sent the flowers. She had not yet removed her long dress and the delicate beading and lace detailing had glimmered in the soft light, cast down from the chandeliers. She had been the queen of the fairies on stage and she couldn’t help but wonder whether he would still find her attractive up close, without the bold theatre makeup and glitter she had wiped off as soon as her final scene was over. The way that he looked at her as she tapped him on the shoulder, with his dreamy dark eyes, had quickly dissolved any doubts. His eyes ran over her features like she was the only woman on Earth; that they were meant to be together. It was the closest thing to love at first sight she had ever seen.

“I still feel that way.” His voice brought her back to the present and her eyes snapped up to meet his. He held her gaze strongly, his usually dreamy expression replaced with something more fierce and concrete.

“I meant to come and see you sooner.” She explained, both to herself and him as she moved closer.

“To end it?”

“I hoped you wouldn’t argue with me.” She said softly, confirming his question.

“I don’t see the point…” He murmured gently, rubbing his nose between his fingers and taking his glasses off. “You’ve clearly thought it over.”

She nodded, looking up at him. “Thank you.” Her voice whispered. “I wanted to come and say goodbye.”

His mouth twisted in acceptance, biting his inner cheek. “It means a lot.” She could see the tears starting to well in his eyes, making them glisten as his voice cracked. “I won’t bother you anymore.” He promised.

Her heart sank and she reached out for his hands, grasping them softly. “Don’t…”

He let out a sob as the first tears fell on his cheeks, his lips opening and closing a few times as he tried to speak. “I’m so scared Cass…” He eventually said, body trembling. She thought it was the most honest thing she had ever heard him say and felt a surprising wave of relief wash over her. His admittance wasn’t news to her; she had known it from the moment he received the letter, months before, but he had desperately tried to hide his feelings, masking them with wine and sex and pointless arguments. She wondered why he had fought it so hard, but realised she couldn’t relate; while her own sex faced plenty of challenges, it was only those with the Y chromosome which had to go through this particular ordeal. “I don’t know how I’m gonna make it through…” He wept, letting go of her hand to wipe his eyes messily with his sleeve.

“It’s not forever.” She reasoned, whispering soothingly.

He sniffled. “I had this image of you being there when I come out…” His voice shook. “Of us getting married, having kids..”

She felt her cheeks grow warm, her stomach dropping unpleasantly as his face began to swim before her eyes, her own tears falling thick and fast. “It’s hard for me too…” She admitted, knowing that despite knowing him for three years, she had never seen him so vulnerable; he had never allowed her to get close enough to see him this way. “You’re not a bad person Tae.” Her brow furrowed, realising it was true.

He lifted his head from his chest, looking her straight in the eye. “I wanted to grow old with you.”

“Stop…” She pleaded, her eyes and cheeks wet.

She felt his fingers tangle in the back of her hair as he bridged the gap between them, pressing his mouth gently to hers, their tears mingling as he opened his lips against her, wanting her to respond...to know how he was feeling. It was no use trying to resist; she could sense herself softening beneath his touch, knowing that she shouldn’t but unable to stop herself from kissing him back; their bodies pressing closer as she felt his warm breath against her skin. It felt cathartic and final, with her finally pulling away to press her forehead to his.

“One last time…” She nodded, agreeing with his silent plea, whispering against his lips.

He was silent for a moment, nuzzling her warm, wet cheeks with his nose before tightening his fingers against her scalp, being careful to be gentle as he tilted her face upward, her long neck arched and exposed as he looked at her.

“I loved you so much…” He gasped, his eyes glistening as he took her in.

“You too.”

Their eyes stayed locked for a moment longer, savouring the mutual confession which was all that remained of their love. When their lips met again, she found her own hands moving to his hair, running it through the tight curls as he brushed the straps of her camisole off her shoulders, his palms holding her steady. She clutched him tightly to her as he opened his warm mouth against her chest, pecking her pale skin while she gasped above him, running her thumb over his exposed cheekbone. He continued for a moment, trailing along her collarbone before looking up, his eyes full of lust as she caught his lips between hers.

Her fingers trailed along his lower back, appreciating the soft indents of his pelvis as she eased his sweater from his torso, throwing it to the shag-pile carpet before moving back to him, grasping his cheeks in her palms as they kissed ferociously. The band on her jeans was tight, but he slotted his thumbs between the gap at the back, moving them along her hips until he reached the button at the front. She allowed him to unbuckle her and slip his fingers beneath the hem of her panties, pulling them down her legs as he dropped heavily to his knees. Sweetly, he pressed his lips to her inner thigh, moving along the curvaceous parts of her skin where a light pattern of stretch marks adorned the fleshier part of her legs. She let out a moan, savouring his tenderness as he kissed her lovingly - seeming to trace the patterns with his lips, as though wanting her to see herself the way he did. Her lips parted as he tilted his head and moved between her thighs to the triangle of tightly curled pubic hair, pecking her slit sensually a couple of times before pulling away, a little breathlessly.

“Can you stand up?” She asked softly, taking his hands in hers and pulling him to his feet.

She unbuckled his belt quickly, the sound of the metal clasp ringing through the cozy room as she eased the black fabric away from his crotch, reaching beneath the zipper to curl her fingers around his cock. She bent down as she uncovered him and kissed his long shaft gently. He was not quite hard; his emotions overwhelmed his desire, and she encouraged him onto the small, two-seater sofa at the edge of the room, sitting him down while she nested between his legs, the carpet soft against her bare knees. He didn’t protest as she wrapped her lips around him, clutching him gently as she sucked his cock. She knew his body intimately and she found herself brushing her tongue familiarly along the grooves and veins in his shaft, pressing against the underside of his tip as he hardened in her mouth. His head lolled back as she withdrew, letting him go almost completely before sinking down on him again.

“You feel so good Cass.” He gasped, stroking her hair softly as she kept up the pace, working him slowly in a way she hadn’t done in years. It had been a long time since she had made love to him with her mouth, with her in control, setting the pace. She wondered when things had changed; when they stopped showing their love for each other through their bodies and instead became addicted to pushing each other to their limits, using each other like a drug. With a moan, she kept going until she felt his fingertips against her cheek. She let him go softly, looking up.

“Can you fuck me?” He asked gently, his expression dreamy beneath his bangs. Slowly, she nodded, her thighs sticky as she stood up and removed her shirt and bra. His eyes fell to her breasts as she steadied herself against him, holding his bare shoulders and straddling his waist. His cock was wet, glistening and upright and she spread her lips with her fore and middle fingers, her clit brushing his pubic hair as she sank onto him. As always, it took a moment to adjust to his thickness and he held her by the hips, slowly moving her against him, up and down, guiding her and pressing his lips to her breasts. She appreciated the sound of their bodies coming together, the wet noise of his cock inside her, merging with their gasps. His mouth closed around a nipple, pecking it gently before moving to the other and pulling away, brushing both thumbs over the sensitive red tips, making them sheen with saliva.

She realised, as his lips returned to hers, that he too had forgotten what it felt like to be together like this - without the toys and the kinks and the pain. Her stomach churned with sorrow and she was almost grateful when he wrapped his arms around her naked back and, clutching her close to him, lowered her backward onto the floor, the shag pile soft and comfortable against her skin. He slipped out of her, removing his trousers and underwear from his ankles, before pushing back into her, his body covering hers as she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist. Their lips came together as his breathing intensified, signifying the tell-tale start of his orgasm. She knew he was trying to hold off, to savour the moment and make it last, but eventually his hips bucked against her and he allowed himself to give in, burying himself deep as he clutched her naked body to his, their hips pressed together tightly as he came inside her. She kept kissing him, knowing that when they stopped, they would have to part, and she didn’t know whether she was ready to say goodbye just yet. He likewise seemed reluctant to let her go when his hips finally slowed, but eventually, he slipped out of her, his cock having grown soft inside her warmth. He pulled away, his breath haggard, and kissed her cheek gently.

She lay for a moment in silence as he rolled off her, her own breath heavy; breasts heaving against her chest as she watched him stand up. “I need to go…” She murmured, getting to her feet. Taehyung turned to look at her, his eyes moving to her pubis as she straightened. She followed his gaze, a little dazedly, to the space between her legs and touched her fingers to the warm semen which dripped down her inner thigh, across her stretch marks and cellulite-puckered skin.

“Here…” He reached towards the coffee table, past the paperback he had been reading, and handed her a box of tissues. She thanked him quietly, taking a couple to clean herself and trailing it between her thighs and over the bottom of her pubic hair. He put the box down and took a couple for himself, wiping his cock before reaching for his discarded underwear.

“Um…” She looked around, searching for a trash can in the unfamiliar apartment.

“It’s okay.” He muttered as he adjusted the elasticated waistband of his boxers against his waist and reached for the bundle of tissues. He disappeared into the kitchen and she took the opportunity to get dressed, grimacing a little when she realised her thighs were still a little tacky against her tight jeans.

Taehyung turned to the wall when he returned, dressing quietly as she slipped on her shoes, wondering if sleeping with him had been the right thing to do. She checked her pocket to make sure her car keys were still there and the little jangle caught his attention, alerting her to the fact she was leaving.

“Can I write?” He asked softly, voice full of uncertainty.

She was silent for a moment. “If you want to...” She said quietly. If she had thought he looked more mature when he first answered the door, his next expression broke that illusion. His lip quivered slightly, though he barely seemed to notice. “Try not to worry too much…” She whispered, trying to reassure him.

He followed her out of the living room and into the hallway. “What did you do with the flowers?” He questioned.

“They’re still at the theatre. I’ll pick them up later.” She turned to face him as they reached the front door and they were silent for a moment.

“I meant what I said in the note.” He looked at her, his voice low. “No matter what happens...”

“I know.” She nodded, knowing it was true. While neither were virgins when they met, they had been each other’s first love, and that would never change. “You too Tae.” She sighed. “Good luck.”

“Break a leg…” He agreed and they both smiled sadly at the shared joke.

“Goodbye.” She whispered.

***

Please stay tuned for more headcanon content, including from this storyline, coming soon!

Thanks for reading, please check out our masterlist for more fics and scenarios

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook

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47 notes · View notes

hero-philia · 4 years

Text

BNHA Secret Santa ~ A Name for Christmas

A/N: Hello everyone! Merry Christmas to all of you, but especially one person that happened to have me being announced her Secret Santa for the BNHA Writers Fest: @antigenius (Okay, why doesn't it let me tag you Q.Q) - I REALLY HOPE THAT YOU LIKE IT!

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A Name for Christmas | A Midoriya Izuku Oneshot

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The dust in front of him needed an eternity to clear at least a little. Midoriya couldn’t say that he was pleased with not being able to see anything but darkness. Still, he patiently waited for it to disappear nevertheless because he knew that someone was there.

That you were there. Somewhere not too far away from him, though he couldn’t exactly tell where.

„I wasn’t expecting Christmas to be like this,“ he heard you cough from his right side.

Only a second later he spotted the flashy purple of your hero costume, which made him sigh in relief.

He would most likely not admit in public that being a pro hero didn’t come with advantages all the time. Having to patrol on Christmas Eve was such a thing. Instead of watching some movie with you, the both of you gave it their best to stop a villain from randomly attacking people.

Some debris had already hit the ground earlier, which left the whole area covered in dust. Even breathing had become a challenge ever since.

„Let’s show him what we think of his unholy behaviour!“ With this he gave you a nod before aiming for the seemingly invisible enemy.

So far Midoriya hadn’t gotten a real clue about the quirk of the stranger. The only thing he knew happened to be that it had something to do with controlling things like telekinesis. Earlier he had thrown a car right into the house behind them, missing the heroes just by a few inches.

People were surrounding the scene, at least they had done so. Did they run away as soon as the dust had hit the area? He wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t risk to hesitate.

Every second was important now.

Meanwhile you had managed to escape the place with bad sight. From your new position you watched the green dot going for the spot where the villain had been. Possible that he was still standing there.

5 a.m. Who the heck attacked people at 5 a.m. on Christmas morning?!

You stared at the tattoo on your arm, that presented your connection with your fellow hero. Luckily the wind cleared the fighting space and revealed the scenario again. From then on you guided Midoriya with ease, protecting him from the attacks by making his body move unconsciously.

The boy threw one punch after another, groaning but getting up again if he had been hit himself. He smirked while he prepared to launch his signature attack at the unknowing man. Nothing would destroy his merry plans to celebrate Christmas with you!

„DETROIT … SMASH!“ His voice echoed through the area. A loud thud followed suit.

In order to delete the bond between him and you, you flicked your fingers. Needless to say that the third person was out cold, laying on the floor with a big crack in the road underneath his body. Never mess with Deku’s strength.

Though he had just fought a villain, the green-head was smiling at you like nothing had happened. You appeared next to him when the few remaining witnesses cheered about your victory.

„I can always count on you! Thank you for making me block all of those attacks,“ he blurted out in front of everyone.

Good thing that the media hadn’t arrived yet because that would have caused an endless amount of interviews and stupid magazine articles. Admittedly, both of you were surprised that they hadn’t found out so far, despite seeing you work together as Pro Heroes for three years.

Deku and Collegato - Are they hiding a secret?

Midoriya always blushed at the thought of the newspapers revealing your relationship and everyone knowing it when they would see him. Every now and then he would ruffle his hair when he had just managed to not accidentally blurt out something.

But he enjoyed it either way as long as he could be together with you.

„Can’t you stop risking your neck at least once, Midoriya? Both of you look horrible!“

Recovery Girl hadn’t reacted very well to seeing the two of you arriving in the emergency room. The costumes were covered in holes, his face carried one scratch next to the other, your hair pointed into every possible direction.

He scratched the back of his neck, „Sorry! But the villain was endangering a lot of innocent people. I couldn’t watch without doing something.“

In response Recovery Girl eyed at you, putting a smirk on. You tried to avoid her glare by putting your hair up into a ponytail. A rather childish behaviour for an adult and pro hero, but that didn’t matter for you.

„Ah, I see how things are. You jumped in because someone could have gotten hurt.“

And she had successfully broken him within two minutes. Midoriya turned into a stuttering mess who didn’t know where to look without sending weird signs while his face slowly changed its color. After that Recovery Girl didn’t need any official confirmation anymore. She wished a merry christmas before leaving the room.

You sighed. He sighed.

You started to laugh. He started to laugh.

„Seriously, I didn’t think that she would be the first one to find out,“ you gasped for air between the laughs as tears began to form in your eyes.

Obviously, Midoriya’s mom as well as your parents and all of your friends were already informed about the relationship status. It would have been more than exhausting to hide it for two years, especially because none of you had seen a reason to.

Several minutes later the laughter slowly died to leave space for the first silence since the attack had taken place. Regularly you caught him staring at you, your bandaged arm and the band-aid at your forehead to be more specific. That his own chest was wrapped in it didn’t seem to bother him at all.

„Hey, Izu?“ He looked into your eyes. „I think we won’t make it to the cinema in time. How about directly going to your apartment instead?“

Originally the plan had consisted of watching a movie, then visiting a nice restaurant nearby and afterwards proceeding to simply enjoy each other’s presence at his. None of you had seen it coming that things might get messed up during your patrol.

Izuku being Izuku had insisted to take that shift because, one, you weren’t too much into Christmas as you didn’t grow up with it and, two, everyone else from the agency could take a day off to spend it with their loved ones.

Casually you had agreed to accompany him as his patrol partner like usual, not even imagining that you could get a car thrown into your direction. Who would have?

Again he smiled at you this big, innocent smile filled with happiness: „Sounds great! Let’s do it this way…“

You thought he would continue talking as it looked like he hadn’t finished yet, but his eyes scanned the room. When he continued grinning at you while jumping off the bench, you didn’t give it another thought. Not hand in hand, yet close enough to potentially do it, you walked out of the hospital after you had promised Recovery Girl to watch after yourself a little better. Izuku had to do the same.

Still dressed in your completely stained hero costumes, Midoriya decided to make a detour to the agency. Both of you met in the lounge downstairs after you had changed into your normal clothes, which were much more comfortable and warming than the holes in your suits.

„I’m glad to see that you have a sense of sanity when it comes to wearing proper clothes in winter, that will actually keep you warm,“ you chuckled.

Within the past two years, your boyfriend’s style had made a turn to … the unexpected.

The cropped, dark-green hoodie seemed to be at least somewhat warm. His ripped skinny jeans didn’t give off such a vibe, though you weren’t complaining about the fishnet stockings underneath. Sometimes the pullover would ride up a little too much, showing off his toned abs and you caught yourself staring at it rather often.

Too bad that he proceeded to put on this long coat, which always reminded you of fashion models.

Compared to his hero outfit his daily life appearance didn’t have a lot in common with it. Therefore many people would not recognise who they were standing next to in public. Of course you made use of it while leaving the agency; this time hand in hand.

Finally the apartment door fell shut behind your entering figures. As beautiful as all these lights in the streets might be, it didn’t take away the cold.

You were about to step into the living room to collapse on the sofa, but Izuku physically restrained you from doing so. His bandaged hand applied a bit of pressure on your stomach area, careful not to accidentally hurt you.

„Could you please wait here for a minute? I’ll be back in no time!“

A part of you wanted to walk through the now closed door anyways. On the other hand his puppy eyes had too much of an affect on you whenever he was pleading for something. Like leaving you in the chilly hallway. It always left you stunned that you wouldn’t turn mad then.

At the same time Izuku had begun to throw around things in his bedroom before going on with the same procedure in the living room. When he had to pass the hallway, he gave you an apologetic smile only to moved on.

„Izuuuuuu? It’s getting kind of freezing out here,“ you complained a little.

Meanwhile on the other side of the door, your boyfriend was struggling with multitasking as he tried to switch on the sound station and to put on his new sweater simultaneously.

After pushing his head through the matching hole, he shouted, „Just a minute! I’m nearly finished!“

Literally a minute later, the door swung open in front of you. A wild mix of green, red and gold jumped into your sight. And you bursted out in laughter.

„Oh my god! That’s the most Christmas-y sweater I’ve ever seen!“

He chuckled, „I know that you aren’t the Christmas type. But I still wanted to give it a try because it’s Christmas!“

When you stepped into the living room, not only the warmth of the heater embraced your body. The soft smell of gingerbread filled the room while old Christmas hits were playing in the background. Izuku had even decorated the windows with holiday lights, that were shining in all colours of the rainbow.

Before you could sit down to relax your sore limbs, he took your hand and guided you to the window front.

„It’s so beautiful, Izu. I can’t believe you arranged all of this!“

You leaned onto his surprisingly warm body and nuzzled your cheek into the soft fabric of the sweater. The gold it contained, managed to bring out your boyfriend’s eyes even more, like they were real green emeralds.

In response he rested his head on yours, wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you closer.

„I’m really glad that you like it, baby.“

For a moment you didn’t react at all because you were busy replaying the scene in your head over and over again. Did this actually happen? Or did your tired mind start imagining things?

When you looked up to him with a question mark in your eyes, you noticed the small blush on his cheeks.

„Did you just call me baby?“

Out of nowhere Midoriya’s built up self-esteem disappeared and he began to fiddle around with his fingers while avoiding your glance as much as possible. His face turned into a tomato the longer the silence between the two of you lasted. You had probably pushed a button of his.

He stuttered, „Ehm, no. I mean … Yeah, I did! But if you don’t like it, we - we can forget that this happened and live on without ever mentioning it again. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you -„

„I love it. Please never stop using it.“

Now it was Izuku’s turn to replay everything in order to find out whether this had been real or his imagination. With wide eyes he looked down to you.

Your big smile eliminated all doubts and he closed both of his arms around you, leaving you caught in the middle. In this position you could hear his racing heart inside of his chest before pulling yourself up by intertwining your fingers behind his neck. By the second, your faces got closer to each other.

„Merry Christmas, baby.“

He didn’t leave you any room to answer or at least somehow return it before his warm lips made yours melt into a kiss.

-----

Everyone have awesome holidays and enjoy your time with family/friends/yourself/your pets/etc. - I’m off to working on your requests now :3

#bnha writers fest #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha scenario #bnha fluff #bnha pro heroes #bnha x reader #bnha midoriya #bnha izuku #bnha deku #midoriya izuku #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader

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themountainsays · 4 years

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It's clear Anna and Elsa have loved each other since ALWAYS, because they grew up together (partially), and I've seen a lot of fics develop their romantic relationship from that point, their feelings evolving towards that direction.

But i wonder, if they didn't know each other, what would they find attractive about the other? What would first attract them to each other? What would make them love each other? Because non-familial love is always conditional (as all healthy non-familial love is), so there must be a reason for them to love each other. Shared experience and the gradual development of a bond is a great answer but I'm thinking more about the particular personality traits, for lack of a better word, that make them want to spend time together or even like each other at all.

I can very easily see why someone would be attracted to Anna because ngl she's pretty much my type. Funny, energetic, idealistic, a heart full of love and kindness and courage. Not afraid to get dirty or engage in risky physically activity. I think what I admire the most about her was her willingness to do the right thing, no matter how painful. Watching her try to destroy her own home simply because it was the correct thing to do sent chills down my spine because thats exactly what I admire in a comrade. Someone willing to sacrifice individual happiness for the good of the community.

(Oof getting pretty lefty latina on main let's go back to frozen)

But for Elsa? I mean, most of her character development revolves around her powers and the trauma related to them. It's reached a point where it's impossible to tell where the powers end and Elsa begins. I do think this is intentional and it's not a bad writing decision, even I personally would rather explore who she is as a person and a human being in a way that doesn't revolve entirely around her powers and trauma.

I remember making a post about it? You can read it here and it's basically about how Elsa deserves better than becoming a norse godess: she deserves to he a normal woman among normal people. It makes more sense in the post go read it

So that's what i'm gonna try to do! As you can see no structure no essay only unorganized thoughts posted in tumbrl dot com for everyone to disagree with

I mean from canon we Uuuh well this is going to sound like a no brainer but Elsa is a very careful person. With other people not with herself lmao but you can see in every scene with how much care she treats others. This is usually physical care, because she was raised to believe emotions didn't matter and physical safety was the most important thing, and this is why she repeately ends up hurting people's feelings, all in an attempt to keep then physically safe (rejecting Anna at the party TWICE, both events clearly hurting both. Sending Anna away on the canoe (NOT A KAYAK), which again is painful for both sisters). But if you look at the bigger picture you can observe there's much more than that. From the beginning she spoils her little sister and takes care of her as kids, and through Frozen Fever she cranks up the spoiling to eleven, because she actually loves to see Anna happy. It's very painful for Elsa to reject her. You can see it at the party and during the canoe scene. Actually she loves to see EVERYONE happy. At the end of Frozen i, during OFA and at the beginning of frozen ii she spends time with her people literally making toys for children like fucking Santa Claus, creating an ice skating rink in her own backyard and organizing a fest for everyone to eat for fucking free (two fests, actually. maybe three? Can't remember) i mean what kind of queen does this?? She's way too nice. Even when people are trying to kill her her first reaction is to beg them to stay away so she won't hurt them. She makes it clear she's hiding in the mountains not because she's scared of being hurt (WHICH IS WHAT GRAND PABBIE PREDICTED WOULD HAPPEN). She's hiding because she doesn't want to cause harm. She's trying to fucking protect the people who want to kill her. In frozen ii her first reaction to seeing the tiny dragon is trapped is to offer him a hand and play with him because she's just that nice. She later cuddles a baby reindeer. Oh and in FF she's being mom friend on main by mothering kristoff and olaf as well. Remember she bought him a new sledge and invented a whole new job for him when she could do it herself with her magic? Now she's wiping the paint from his face. You know, like a mom. She even does it in thay gross mom way, licking her thumb and smearing the saliva all over ew ew my mom did that every time i got food on my face its gross. I wonder how kristoff didn't get a cold too that shit's contagious. Anyways, conclussion: while i think her desire to protect people was exacerbated by her trauma, i do think she always had it on her. She likes making people happy. She makes fucking toys for children is she a queen or a toy factory. She likes to spoil everyone around her. And I think this is partially because she wants people to like her. You can see how much it hurts her when people think badly of her ("you only know how to shut people out"). Later, seeing her people scared of her is what makes her run away. Hans telling her not to be the monster everyone thinks she is is what stops her and snaps her back into reality. No one likes to be disliked, but I think Elsa is particularly sensitive to this. And you can see her at her happiest in two different situations:

When she's being loved and cherished by her people (with Anna by her side)

And when she's free and in the wild.

Which leads me to my second point: Elsa is a horse girl

Ok but apart from being a horse girl you can see she... really enjoys being outside, and being free, and exploring the unknown. I'm thinking about LIG, SY and in part yeah ITU. She seems to actually enjoy physical activity like running and probably also hiking? Being away from society seems to be very stimulating for her which, first of all same. If i could live in a glacier i would i completely understand her choice because that's every girl's dream: live in the ice AND study history all day. What else could you possibly want? This is actually when she's at her highest energy. Being introverted doesn't mean you have low energy it doesn't mean jack shit which is why I think I can safely say Elsa is a kinda high energy person actually. Particularly when she's happy (hello??? Frozen Fever??), and what seems to bring the most excitement to her is to be outdoors and in nature. You know like a horse girl. She sings and dances and she's a huge dork who likes to play in the snow and ride horses and sleep on moving sledges and cuddle smelly baby reindeer and climb mountains. It does take her a bit to come out of her shell tho. You can see how stiff she is during the charades scene. But by the end of Frozen i she's dancing with her sister in the ice, surrounded by the entire kingdom.

Shes highly sensitive too. Like I mean this is a no brainer. And her lack of emotional intelligence doesn't help. But if you focus more on how strongly she feels and less on how little control she has over her emotions in frozen i at least you can appreciate how kind her heart is. Did i mention she makes toys for random kids like santa claus? But seriously, she doesn't have a mean spirited bone in her body. Apart from making Anna dance with the duke of weaselton (Oooh mischevious little shit). She's ALWAYS feeling things and VERY STRONGLY. ALL THE TIME. Its like she doesn't have a neutral mode. She's either crying of happiness and dancing like a hippie or having a mental breakdown. I can only imagine she experiences love, wonder, tenderness, care, excitement, indignation, surprise, grief... all so intensely. Her view of the world must be through a filter of constant emotion. When everything elicits such a strong reaction in her heart, she must experience the world in a very special way.

She's also an architecture nerd. She made a whole ice castle by herself in like a minute. Which means she's also a math nerd. She likes geography and physics. This is canon. She built a castle by herself.

She also giggles when awkward or nervous or maybe embarassed (but not scared) (sources, FF, that scene when kai startles her and she freezes her own hands).

Now i'm thinking about about a very famous architect visiting Arendelle and the mighty legendary ice queen giggling like a little girl and fiddling with her hands as she's organizing the welcome and making sure everything is PERFECT because she's going to meet someone she admires. See? Can you picture that scene? Yeah that has more personality than some of her scenes in f2

Oh right and she's also a hardcore perfectionist. She has high standards for herself and she gets frustrated and dissapointed if she can't meet them. Observe how she doesn't hold anyone but herself to these standards. Just look at the first scene in FF, how much pressure she puts in herself to make the PERFECT CAKE DECORATION but she's more accepting of Kristoff and Olaf's imperfections.

Kinda delving into headcanon territory but remember that comic with Anna separating all the blue M&Ms bc she knows those are Elsa's favorite so she can eat them all in front of her as revenge for shutting her out, and Elsa is having a philosophical breakdown at 8 in her room and Anna angrily eating all the blue M&Ms snaps her back into reality? Yep that's her. Elsa thinks too much. But she gets stuck in her ideas and doesn't end up doing anything unless she's pushed to it. Compare to Anna, who might be less thoughtful but more active, coming up with plans and solutions on the spot (not all of which are good but at least they're SOMETHING) while Elsa philosophizes too much and ends up doing nothing. But the scene that made me think of this was when, after her parents tell her the story of the magic forest, Anna goes "that was EPIC" while Elsa looks down and very quietly she asks what happened to the forest and Ahtohallan yep that's bc she thinks too much and also she's an enneagram 6

Speaking of which if i had to type i think her tritype would be... 6w7, 1w2, 5w4? In that order. Yep she's a 6w7 like Rapunzel. I thought about typying her as a 6w5 but i think her 5 wing comes out the most when she's repressing herself and hiding and concealing and not feeling and all that shit. When she's free and happy she's acting much more like a 7. Whoever said Anna is a 6 and Elsa is a 4 can get out of my blog bc Anna is clearly a 2. Probably. I think. No 6 would throw a snowball at marshmallow. I do think it's somewhere in her tritype considering frozen ii tho. Too much enneagram bullshit. To the conclussion:

Conclussion: these are some of the reasons why someone (including Anna) could fall in love with Elsa. In the movie Anna loves Elsa bc she's her sister but if her love was conditional, like most healthy love is, i think these could be the reasons why she would love her, platonically or romantically. Basically she's too nice, was probably be the kindest and most sensitive queen ever, and she's a nerd, and she's a horse girl, and she giggles when nervous (v important). And also she's a perfectionist.

#don't mind me i'm just rambling and thinking about my fic over here #maybe half of thse are headcanons maybe not who knows definitely not me #i wrote this at uuuuh 6 am but like at night bc i didnt sleep #frozen #elsa #character analysis if you squint

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cardandpixel · 4 years

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RocketBook Flip - a rare review and it’s not a game!

Before I go any further, I feel I must point out that I don’t have any financial connection to RocketBook whatsoever – this isn’t a piece that was requested or courted by RocketBook or affiliates and I’m not receiving any reward or sponsorship either in product or direct payment for this article. I just like the damn thing and love it when an innovative piece of tech (in this case quite low key) just works. Hi I’m Paul, and I have a bit of a problem with notebooks – A4 lined, sketch, reporters, Black & Reds (ohhhh the sheer number of B&Rs), goofy ones, serious work ones, battered ones, pristine ‘for best only’ ones – and they all fill at an alarming rate. I make notes on everything. Working as a sound engineer and designer, there’s always mix notes, soundscape plots, ideas, VO notes and scripts, SFX ideas etc etc. At home it’s a very different story – it’s much worse. Game notes; blog notes; hurriedly scribbled quiz questions spurred by watching another episode of Mental Floss’ 500 facts about cheese; RPG notes and story ideas; my own script writing; world building; sketches; other creative ideas; song/music notes and ideas; and that’s before we get to to-do lists; and the dreaded ‘things I must remember’. So my journal life is many, varied and plenty. The usual issue is… ‘what frakking journal did I put that amazing idea in????’, and that’s way before we get to the utter horror that is possibly losing a whole journal or forgetting to bring one home from work. I’m 53, I forget more than I recall, and journals help bring some semblance of order to a massively chaotic and fertile brain. What I’ve needed for a long time is some way of organising all this info or centralising it in some way. Sure I’ve looked at apps – I used Things, Evernote, Notes, and One Note for years, and they are really, really good, but they relied on either having a charged device exactly when I need it (yeah – me too) or net access, which for a new-ish theatre, is surprisingly a bit of an issue at work. And the most important part – I actually enjoy the physical act of handwriting long-hand. I still write actual physical letters to people, it’s adorable and a bit creepy in this age, but I call it charming and leave it at that. Handwriting, for me, allows me time to think and process in a way that typing just doesn’t. Handwriting is slower, I rarely cross anything out, and so I always have the whole of the thought. So what I’ve ideally wanted for years, was a reliable way of organising all my notes and storing them electronically so I have access even without the actual journal, with OCR so they’re editable, and still being a tactile handwritten experience. I’m naturally a sceptic (I actually subscribe to Fortean Times – yeah – I card carry!) and so online ads and particularly FaceAche ads are a field day for critical thinking triggers. I don’t think I’ve ever received from Wish, exactly what I ordered from Wish. And so when an ad from RocketBook constantly kept popping up on my timeline a few weeks ago, I was naturally “it’ll never work” But their website looked legit enough – they had a dedicated UK shop, it was relatively steep to buy in but not so wild that if it didn’t work I wouldn’t be crying too much about the money wasted, and at the end of the day it was a 10th the price of a ReMarkable 2 which is actually what I thought would solve my problem. I’m furloughed at the mo and though I could argue the case for £300+ notebook (test me, I could), I just couldn’t justify it now. And RocketBook had a good summer intro offer. I ordered on the Wednesday, and the impressively glitzy and graphic-design-playbook poly package was dropped on my doorstep just 2 days later by my cheery postie who yelled up the drive “Package for ya, looks very exciting!!!!” I like that our postal service is still invested in the hopes and dreams of their customers. It was exciting. All the instructions for getting started with my new Teal RocketBook A4 Flip were right there before you even open it. The main body houses the pad and a cleaning cloth, and a clever little side pocket houses the supplied Pilot Frixion pen.

RocketBooks come in several models, all configured slightly differently. I have the Flip which is a top spiral-bound softback pad with 21 double sided ‘pages’ giving 42 pages in total. The Flip has lined paper one side, and dot paper on the reverse (great for D&D maps, impromptu tables, mixer channel plots etc)

DELIVERY & FIRST IMPRESSIONS The pads are nicely made, with sturdy covers (available in some really nice colours too) and a solid, thick plastic ring binding. Initially, The RocketBook does feel a bit odd. Its ‘pages’ are actually a synthetic polyester blend and feel quite shiny to the touch. The sort of surface you just instantly feel is not going to be great for ink! Each page is edge-to-edge lined or dotted with a heavy black border. At the bottom is a prominent QR code used for scanning and some very feint icons. These 7 icons are the key to the ease of use of the RocketBook series. But more later.

THE APP

The pads work with a companion app, that is absolutely free and available for Apple & Android. In fact, RB even do downloadable printable pages so you can try the whole system absolutely free before you buy – I didn’t, I just bought one, y’know. The app allows you to set up your destination locations, your preferences and does the actual scanning. Just one quick note, I have the app on both my phone and iPad and had to set-up the app the same for both, there appears to be no way of swapping preference settings between devices, though I can see why this may be intentional.

Currently, the RocketBook allows you to choose from the following locations to send files to: GoogleDrive, box, EverNote, DropBox, slack, OneNote, iCloud, OneDrive as well as simply to an email (or multiple) addresses and iMessage. Impressively, these are not fixed either, so you could choose your 7 destinations to be 7 email addresses of team members. These 7 locations are the icons at the bottom of each page. To select a destination for your file, you just make a mark in that icon box (tick, circle, something unsavoury) and that page will be sent to whichever you select. This makes the system very flexible indeed as not every page is necessarily sent to every destination. You always decide every time you fill a page. Change your mind on a second revision? No problem, add or change icons at any time and re-upload.

There’s a really handy table on the inside front cover for you to note what icon sends what where. This is also wipeable, so can be changed anytime.

I have mine set by default to:

Rocket > main email address (either as PDF, JPG, OCR embedded or as separate txt file)

Diamond > GoogleDrive (you can specify exactly what folder too)

Apple > iMessage

Bell > OneNote

That actually still leaves me 3 spare: shamrock; star; and horseshoe.

The app took me maybe 20mins to set-up, that included decision time for destinations and setting up a few target folders. It also included a few ‘test firings’. I didn’t get everything right first time and a few things didn’t send, but crucially, a tiny bit of digging revealed very simple troubleshooting (including the aforementioned issue with no sync’ing of phone and iPad), and all in I was finding the files in all the right destinations within about 30 mins. The website, FAQs and community are immensely helpful with any other issues as well. I had a tiny issue with OneNote seeming to take ages to sync, but I think that’s an issue with my OneNote settings, everything else was almost instantaneous. You can also handily set the app to auto-send as soon as it scans, or allow for manual review.

CLEAN UP ON AISLE ROCKETPAD The main reason I wanted to look at the RocketBook was the issue of reusability. My journal shenanigans are by no means the biggest ecological disaster on the planet, but if we are to believe Tesco (who probably issue as many receipts at our local Tesco Express in a day as journals I’ve ever used), every little helps. If I could find an ecologically better solution, I should at least take a look. The RocketPads work by partnering with Pilot pens called Frixion. The really clever bit is RB’s paper technology and how it works with the Frixion ink. At present, the pads only work with the Frixion pens – except the RB Colour which works with Crayola’s dry-erase crayons. When you write on the ‘paper’ with a Frixion pen, it remains wet for a few seconds and then dries pretty quickly. There’s no smudging whatsoever in transit, which is pretty cool. From then on, it may as well be permanent, until you have transmitted your page and decide you don’t want the text anymore. To wipe the page clean, you can dampen the supplied cloth and just wipe the surface clean, it’s weird but it works! But then damp cloth in your bag? So I use kitchen roll to dampen, then wipe dry with theirs. Others even have an adorably kitsch spray bottle in their kit. RB reckon if you are not going to use the pad for a few months, to clean the pages as the ink can get trickier to shift after a long time, but for day-to-day use, I’ve tried writing and wiping well over 20x and the page hasn’t become discoloured or tarnished at all. The only pad different in the range is the Wave which cleans by microwaving! Do NOT do this with any of the others, bad things will happen. The ink doesn’t take scrubbing or any time to come up, I clean my pages in about 10-15s. The page can feel a little tacky when it’s damp, but leave a minute or so and the page will be back to normal. RB do say that odd things can happen if the book is left near a heatsource or in a hot car, vis-à-vis, the ink can completely disappear horrifyingly enough. They say that putting the pen or the pad in the freezer for a little while will actually restore the ink, but I’ve not tried it yet so can’t confirm or deny how that goes. Handy for spies in hot countries though, so there’s another target market. If you are always going to send your pages to the same places, then don’t erase the marked icons, and the page is ready for new notes straight away, otherwise, scrub them too.

I CAN’T READ YOUR WRITING – ARE YOU A DOCTOR? Initially, the RB pads send their files as scans of the pages in high contrast monochrome (colour is available) when you snap the page in the app (which auto-frames for you and takes maybe 10s to capture). The formats are either as images or PDF. If that had been it, I would have been quite happy, but the RB pads have another trick up their sleeve. Firstly, they have a function called ‘Smart Titles’ which allows you to name your files directly from the page by writing a filename between double hashtags ie ## this is my scrawl 24/8/20 ## and the file will pop up in your destinations with the filename “this is my scrawl 24/08/20” – this is insanely handy – there’s no protocol except your own and the hashtags, and it makes your files super easy to search. You can even send groups of pages as a single PDF. But the notebooks go even further. They actually offer full searchable OCR which the app can be set to send embedded in the PDF or image, or more usefully, as a companion separate .txt file. Now, my handwriting isn’t the neatest, but it’s not bad so I was prepared for some editing to be necessary, but impressively again, the OCR was about 90-95% accurate. In a page of text it missed maybe 3 or 4 words and even those not badly. This is all considering their full OCR is still only in beta! It gets confused with diagrams on the page, but that’s to be expected.

Text Generated by OCR: ## Blog post och test Aug 2020 ## This is a little demonstration of the OCR capabilities of the Rocket Book pads and app. I've told the lovely people that the hit rate is about 90-95% so please dant let me down here flip pad. Hopefully the file name will also prove another point further up in the section and not make me look like some charlatan or snake-oil salesman.Hope you enjoyed this demonstrahen, now go away and leave me to write the next great novella.Bye!

HOW MUCH? On average, I pay anywhere from £4-8 for a decent A4 notebook/journal, so at £30-37 (dependent on model), the RocketBook pads are not a whim purchase. That said, I get through a lot of journals in a year, and given that I would expect to easily get 2-3 years out of a RocketBook pad, then I’ve saved money. Will it replace all my notebooks? No. You need to be thinking of carrying this round as a kit: pad, Frixion pen (at least 2), and cloth. RB do a series of portfolio sleeves for the pads but it does push the price up a bit still, but for a rep, engineer or salesperson, this still makes sense. They’re less bulky than a normal A4 pad too. What I would say is Tesco and Sainsbury’s currently stock Frixion pens and at much better prices than buying them from RB directly, I just paid £3 for 3 pens on offer at Tesco compared to £10 from RB. You get one pen with the pad, but you’re going to want more soon, so stock up next time you’re shopping for truffle oil crisps. If you use whiteboards a lot, RB also have you covered. Instead of the pad, £16 will get you a 4 pack of ‘beacons’ – little self-adhesive triangles that effectively do the same thing as the QR code in the pad. You don’t have the icon options obviously, but if you’re looking to distribute quick meeting or group notes, this would be a boon. CONCLUSION Considering this was a fairly speculative purchase on my part, my early experiences with the RocketBook Flip have been really impressive. The flexibility, the ability to store every page in a different location if you really wanted to make it fantastic for organising my notes, which can save me hours of finding the right ^^$&^$&$ notebook in the first place, then scouring that for the one paragraph I was looking for etc etc. The searchable text facility, in-app history for re-sending etc and last but no way least, functional handwriting OCR, makes the RocketBook not only novel, but actually useable! Would I buy another? As a second notebook – yes. I look forward to seeing what the actual longevity of the product is once I come off furlough and start cramming my day bag with all my junk and a notepad again, but yes, I’d probably just have one at home, and one for work, but make the last 5 mins of each day, scanning and sending work notes so I have them with me wherever. Impressively, the RocketBook Flip just works and it works well. ‘Er Across The Table has already sold several folk at her work on the idea and she doesn’t even have one herself yet! I love it. It’s taking a little adjusting to, but it’s all good. The most important thing though is the writing experience, and I have to say, the combination of the Frixion pen/ink and the polymer technology of the Flip, again, just works. It’s smooth, doesn’t skip or smudge for me (I know some right to left users and left handers have reported some issues) and feels great to write on. If anything I have to slow down a bit as the contact is so smooth that your writing can get a bit ahead of you! RocketBook have produced a cracker of a product. It might not seem like much, but if practical working journals are your thing (ie not create and keep things) then I can highly recommend the RocketBook series.

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 5 years

Text

A/N: This chapter is shorter, but we'll be okay.

Part 16: Conversation

"Why the hell are you standing in the doorway staring at me like that," Y/N squinted from her position on the bed. She was supposed to be changing for the night out. Apparently, she couldn't strip with the door open. Little did she know, she was staring at him just as hard.. or else she wouldn't know just how hard he was staring.

"Hello? Nigga?" She was baiting him with a doe-eyed face of stone trying to force his reaction. He could pinch those chubby cheeks. She was at her best when she didn't try.

"Like what," he teased. "How am I looking at you?"

"Like you crazy!"

"You think I'm crazy?" Hands hitched in the pockets of his black Ralph Lauren Purple Label slacks, he watched the micromovements of her eyes, mouth, and body. They always helped him to decipher her mood and what she truly meant. She was an open book and judging by the small up and down movement of her eyeballs, the answer to the question was yes.

"No," she lied suddenly uneasy. He watched her scoot around it. She didn't want to offend him and was treading carefully, something she didn't need to do. "You're not crazy per se.. just a little.. intense." Another lie, but not one worth calling out. Didn't matter either way. He knew he wasn't crazy. The world, however, was batshit and he had to keep up. Eyes focused on her, his mind began to drift to his true purpose for being in Texas, racing through various possible scenarios and combatting them.. logically thinking in terms of steps he'd take to accomplish his ultimate goal. All in a matter of seconds complex plans crossed his mind, reworking themselves past dead ends and around blind spots. If he couldn't predict an outcome, he wouldn't have the advantage he needed to launch a highly successful attack. Slow down. What am I missing? He had to plug in the gaps. How would he proceed with the current target since he'd fucked things up so badly? Because of his one-track mind, he had the tendency to become irrational when there was a clear goal in mind to achieve. He'd do it by any means necessary and he realized he'd done just that. However justified, he'd been pushed to make an impulsive executive decision that he'd have to bounce back from. The colonizer he was up against currently had the upper hand in regard to anticipation and territory advantage. Striking quickly wouldn't be an option at this point. He needed unpredictability in his side. Besides. If the target knew Erik was close and hunting him, he might take the offensive position and all Erik had to do was wait. That was the introduction to the issue. If he were on his own, this would be a perfect situation, but Y/N was with him and completely oblivious to the situation he'd selfishly and inadvertently involved her in.

Aside from that, both Jaliyah and Swift were hitting up his phones.. Jaliyah obviously drunk as fuck and begging him to do some wild shit to her in public again.. and Swift demanding answers like she was running shit. He'd brushed them both off to deal with when he got back to Cali.

"Aight... now you look like a complete psycho.. Blink!" He fluttered his lashes, happy to see her lip curl in irritation. "Smartass," she responded to his rapid blinking. He was tickled by her response. Riling her up was so easy and stress-reducing. "Now close the door," she directed in a soft sing-song voice. He decided to humor her. "Now bring your spiky pineapple headass over here," she pointed to the space ahead of her. His brow raised to check her. He didn't need to say a word, she backed down subtly with a sneaky smirk falling back on her elbows, one foot propped on the bed, her knee in the air.

"Aight now.. You acting up."

The red dress rose and slid exposing clear brown skin on mountainous thighs.. thicker than any girl whose company he'd ever had the pleasure of keeping. He could still remember exactly how tightly those thighs had squeezed him just this morning. As he approached, the phone in his pocket buzzed yet again.

"What's that?"

Shit. Could she hear that?

"What's what?"

"That face. This isn't the first time you've made that face today," she pointed, "Your eyes go dead and it's like your soul just dies at random times. Something must really be pissing you off because you're overthinking and I'm not so ignorant and self absorbed that I wouldn't notice when something's been bothering you. It's written all over your face so tell me what it is."

The fuck?

"Whatchu' mean? Ain't nothing wrong."

Her dark sarcasm shot daggers through him. She ain't believe him.

"I'm not so stupid that I'd believe that either. Besides, I'm your best friend and if I don't notice then who will?"

"You back to that best friend shit again, I see."

"Well if we're not friends then what ar--," she chuckled humorlessly, "Wow. Don't distract me. No, it's that far away look in your eye like you're not truly present and your mind's somewhere else. You go quiet...," she paused, her dark brown orbs focused and delving carefully into his. "Tell me what's wrong."

Gotdamn.. She'd certainly gotten more perceptive. Somehow she was able to read what many people missed. People tended to see what they wanted see and if they couldn't see it, they'd make up their own narrative. Somehow this girl was able to hit on something real. If he wasn't careful, she'd be the one to figure out his secrets. Then where would that leave him?

Alone again. Numb.

"HEY," her fingers snapped bringing his focus quickly back to the moment at hand. "Talk to me. You're always the one there for me, it gets old being the damsel. Let me help you for once."

Time spent together had her learning him bit by bit and while he liked the feeling of being cared for, it made it that much harder to hide.

I shouldn't still have you here. I'm putting you at risk just to stay a little longer in a fantasy.

"Erik."

"Chill. I'm aight ma just admiring my property. Can I look at you?" He parted her thighs and pushed the red material back over her stomach looking at the junction of her thighs. She was getting a bit too close to him in a way he wasn't used to. It made him uncomfortable.

If he made her horny enough, the conversation would turn to sex, they'd fuck, and eventually she wouldn't remember her own name much less care about this conversation. She kissed her teeth, obviously getting frustrated the more he stared.

"I feel like that's 60% lie but okay, keep your little secrets since you don't wanna trust nobody." She closed her legs and flipped over aggressively facing the window as if she were going to sleep. This was her mad pose, but it wasn't a bad view. Her ass was poked out. Not on purpose, but because it was fat. She pulled the dress down to cover it. Her level of perceptiveness had grown to an impressive level.

"Y/N," he tested, waiting for any type of response. He touched her kneecap and shook her knee gently. "Y/N..," he waited.

The silent treatment. Mature.

"You serious right now? I told you what it was. Why you mad?" No response. This is stupid. He waited a minute watching her in the silence, the only sounds being the TV and the voices of loud laughing guests carrying from the other side of the floor. "Aight, get up," he said grabbing her leg. She kicked at him, returning back to her position once he took a step back.

Definitely a brat. He'd give her another minute and then he'd end it. Watching her, he counted down mentally.

"You actin bogus.. Get up," he commanded at the end of the countdown. She didn't move from her spot, kicking when he came nearer again. "You really wanna do this?" He contemplated dragging her from the bed, but decided to be patient. She responded best to warmth rather than rough manhandling so he had to use techniques she'd respond to. Securing his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't grab her, he tried a softer approach.

"Daddy don't like babies, angel. He like big girls... Don't you wanna please Daddy? Ain't that yo responsibility?"

"What I want is to know why you don't trust me with anything real about you. I'm not stupid. I know jack shit about you and that's not cool, you never tell me anything. You keep me out here on the surface like I ain't shit yet you know all my business and I don't like that.. It's an uneven exchange and I can't get my secrets back.. but that's okay, I don't want them back.. I just wanna know you. What's so bad about that?"

"The fuck? That's why you mad? You know me better than most.. Ain't nothing to say, it's not your job to take care of me. I'm the guardian. I'm the protector. I'm the teacher. All I need you to do is listen, obey, and keep yourself open. Don't waste your time thinking you need to know every detail about me to know me. You know me."

"Whatever. You got it."

What did that mean.. What the fuck? He watched her stoic expression as she looked off through the open window. How did they get here? He could only imagine what was going on in her mind. What dots was she trying to connect and what did she already figure out that she wasn't saying? He couldn't underestimate her intelligence. It was one of the things about her he enjoyed most no matter how troublesome it could be. Putting his hand gently on her arm, she didn't react. She was still in thought, contemplating but what was she contemplating? He ain't like the direction this was headed. It stressed him more than he thought it would. Definitely more than it should.

"I'll ask you one question that you gotta answer and you can ask me one question," he blurted watching her eyes slowly refocus and land on his. He hoped he wouldn't regret it.

"Just one," she asked, suddenly sobering. Of course she was in.

"One," he stressed with a finger up watching curiosity resurrect her from the silence. She pursed her lips, hesitating before looking him up and down.

"Mm, okay. You go first."

---

I can't believe that actually worked... Go figure.

It's a shame that you have to resort to trickery to get answers from him, but as tight-lipped as he is about himself and all things surrounding him, you would've never gotten anything out of him otherwise. You had to trick him. Right?

"Ask your question," you prompt ready for him to get his out of the way.

"Why do you have such intense anxiety? You mentioned a bad sexual experience and I know it traumatized you.. Do you think that's the root of it or were you dealing with some unwanted thoughts before then?"

"Um.." Your mind freezes. Honestly, you thought he'd ask something stupid or sexual. "Technically, that's two questions." Two very personal questions. Should you pick one or answer them both? You've gotta sit up for this one. "Ummm," you stall sitting up across from him. He's analyzing with those intense eyes again, about to turn over and examine every word you say along with the spaces in between, you already know.

"O-kay," you breathe looking away to collect and organize your thoughts as you pace slowly to the large window. "Alright, so, I guess I'll start with the general anxiety? I don't know why I do it so I can't tell you that, but I think a lot and I can't stop thinking which is why I know when you're overthinking something. I can tell when someone's annoyed with me, frustrated, genuine or otherwise and I don't like disappointing people. I also have an irrational fear of being embarrassed.. I will go out of my way to avoid it.."

You can see cars way down on the street passing by, the tall building across the street, and the darkening sky overhead. Someone says something about sunset retractable awnings on the television and you know it's that ancient commercial because who else even makes those...

"I guess with that incident that happened when I was in college, my two greatest fears came to life all at once and I didn't know how to completely get over it... I told you, well you guessed, that there were.. things said.. and certain things that happened.. and obviously I internalized them. Your word."

When you turn to look at him, he's watching and waiting like no matter how long you go on and on droning, he won't interrupt. He'll listen to the end. Even with the silence now, he doesn't move or speak. Testing your theory, you stare back out through the window for a while. It's like you thought, he's waiting.

"...It was about four years ago. Que party. Senior year. I was a "virgin" and decided I didn't want to be," you shrug. "So you know the Que dog reputation, how they be? Well, these guys lived up to that.. Or so I'd heard."

Still no comment from Erik, but his full attention.

"I decided I wanted someone with uh," you smirk, "Experience.. and since I didn't talk to or know many guys on campus, I stupidly thought that a party could be a good way to go about it. Don't judge me," you point. His expression doesn't change so you continue. "So, I go to this party and I'm already out of my comfort zone, but then I see Omar and he is fine. I mean, my whole body pointed like a hunting dog in an old cartoon and said that one," you chuckle remembering your body's exact response. It was like your response when you met Erik, but on a lesser scale. Never had you reacted the way you had when you saw Erik in person for the first time. You thought you'd collapse on the spot or rip off the both of your clothes in attack, but all you could do was smile goofily and shake his hand stiffly like you were at an interview. The memory is one you'd rather forget.

"So we met, we flirted, we danced a bit, and I'm thinking this just might be bae! He's holding my waist. He doesn't care that I'm chubby. We're having fun and drinking. Then we go to a back room and he's standing there. I'm standing there. We're just standing there and I'm like okay what now? So, I start taking my clothes off and he follows suit. Now, we're both butt booty naked in front of each other.. standing there. It's the first time I've ever seen an adult male penis so I'm staring at it like how do I make this thing hard. It doesn't even matter apparently because he tells me to lie down and that's when it happened.."

You rehash to him the details as the flashback hits vividly. Every word, you remember. What Omar said about you and what everyone else said to your face and behind your back for the rest of the year. Being known as nasty, dirty, trifling, and also the easy girl all at once. It had damaged a lot. Your image, your friendships, potential relationships, pieces of your self-esteem.. even though they were lies. If enough people say something about you enough times, eventually it gets in. Anyone truly trying to know you could figure that they were lies but unfortunately no one had tried after that. It was why you changed states. You couldn't deal in South Carolina.

"So to answer your questions.. the anxiety had always been there but it was something I could push off because I knew it was irrational. After college, my fear seemed justified and necessary like if I had only listened to it and took it as a warning instead of disregarding it as something to overcome or see pass.. what happened to me never would've happened."

Silence.

"That's all," you say letting him know it's okay to talk. In fact, you need him to talk. Fill the silence. Say anything. His pause is thoughtful, giving you room to add if you have more to say, but you don't.

"There's a pattern," he says suddenly with understanding. "You have a lot of fear and most of all, you fear rejection."

What are you, my therapist?

"And? ..Who wants to be rejected," you snap feeling suddenly more vulnerable.

"What I like about you though is that despite that fear, every now and again you'll take a risk and it could either be the worst thing for you or the best thing, but regardless you go all in.. You got a one-track mind like me," he smiles, eyes widening like it's something that can't be helped. His comparison wasn't something you expected. You didn't think you were very much like him in that way at all, but now that he points it out you wish he'd elaborate. Maybe it'd give you more of a glimpse into him.. the man, not the dom. He pats his lap and you step closer, easing down to sit on his thighs feeling his arm wrap around you.

"People's reactions, their motives and what they believe, the past... These are things you can't control no matter how much you want to or what you do.. or don't do. Since you can't control it, dwelling on it is a waste of your mental and emotional resources.. as well as your time. But since that's something that's easier said than done," he scowls giving you the feeling he's talking about himself as well, "Focus on something that's within your ability to effect and control. For example.. You can never please everyone.. but you can please me."

"Nigga."

"Listen," he smirks holding you still just as you're about to push him on the chest to get up. "You're incapable of disappointing me and I won't reject you.. not like that. I won't embarrass you.. not like that. Focus on me. Rely on me. Trust me.. and I'll show you that you're braver than you think. That's something no one can take from you."

"Yeah, okay, my turn and brace yourself since you asked me like sixteen questions."

"You only had to answer once."

"Fuck that, I want answers." Yeah I said fuck, you muse watching his brows go up again in surprise. "What's in that locked room at your house and why is it locked if you live alone?"

"I wasn't alone, you were there."

"Oh, so it's to keep me out specifically.." It takes one stern look for him to cut the crap and he rolls his eyes, a smirk playing at the corner his lips.

"I'll show you when we get back," he promises.

"Red room of pain?"

"I hate that damn movie." That's an affirmative. Suddenly you were excited to get back to Cali so you could really be nosey. "You contact them girls you met at the mall? You should hang out with them again sometime before we leave Texas."

"I texted them a couple of times. They'd be down." They'd actually invited you to lunch with them today, but you were with Erik. They easily understood when you declined.

"I'm ready to see outfit number two. Change and then we'll get ready to head back out. I know you wanna see the Reunion Tower at night," he says smacking your thigh. It's true, you do. That's why he'd paid for you two to go back for the night. You'd look around some more, eat dinner, and just enjoy it. You wanted to eat at the other shmancy restaurant they had earlier but it was closed during the day.

"You change too. You were sweating a bit," you remind him in the spirit of fairness. Just because you had more crevices didn't mean he didn't sweat just as much as you. He had to hit the shower as well.. preferably with you..

"Mhm," he chuckles knowingly as you stand to take off your dress. "All you have to do is ask."

"No need," you smile walking to the bathroom.

"Ask," he insists stubbornly, still staring from the bed. You shake your head.

"Nope! My daddy is a genius so I don't have to. He already knows what I want."

"....Start the shower."

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