#wrote this when I was having a bad night. bit of wish fulfillment i suppose | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ficninja · 3 years

Text

A Beautiful Night Indeed

So I did a thing...

I wrote a Penelope and Colin fic! I haven't written anything in so long that I seriously surprised myself. I just couldn't help it, I've become so obsessed with them. I wanted to post it here for anyone interested in reading. It's an extended scene I guess, a wish fulfillment if you will, of what I wanted to happen after their dance at the Vauxhall Ball in episode 01 "Diamond of the first water."

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington Summary: Colin is protective of Penelope after Cressida spills her drink on her. Colin doesn't want to let go of Penelope's hand after their dance. Colin is confused about his feelings and Anthony calls him out on it. Colin wants more than anything for Penelope to trust him

A Beautiful Night Indeed

It was a beautiful night. Penelope had arrived to the Vauxhall ball a half an hour early with her Father and sisters. They were just in time to see the lighting of all the torches surrounding the expansive gardens right as the Sun began to hang low in the ever darkening sky…

Standing near the orchestra dining area, watching the dancing begin, Penelope looked around avoiding being spotted by one of her sisters. She was surprised when she heard Colin say her pet name.

“Pen…” Colin approached Penelope. He never had trouble finding her in a crowd. He was constantly captivated by her stunning red hair. Her hair beckoned him like a glowing fire, his eyes always drawn to the beauty of the permanent sunset. She was standing alone expectantly, he surmised she was looking for someone.

“Colin…” Penelope sighed adorably which made him smile to himself. She had the cutest voice, he had always thought so.

“I did not know you would be here.” Penelope was pleasantly surprised to see him. His height towering as he walked closer, making her feel small and delicate by comparison.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Colin teased, causing her to smile. She was never able to resist this pull he had on her.

“Have you seen Miss Thompson?” He inquired. Miss Thompson had many suitors and Colin supposed he should try to get to know Penelope’s cousin a bit more, lest his interest wane.

“She is ill.” Penelope informed him, a bit dispassionately, her smile faltering. “My mamá had to stay home with her.” She continued. “Papá had to chaperone.”

Colin looked over his shoulder to see Mr. Featherington enjoying a refreshment and in an animated discussion, completely unobservant of his youngest daughter.

Colin turned back to Penelope giving her his complete attention, the inquiry into her cousin’s whereabouts fleeting. He did not like that she was vulnerable without her Father’s gaze on her.

“I’m quite enjoying the fact that he is here.” Penelope’s smile picked back up and Colin recalled that she enjoyed spending time with her father… away from her neglectful mother.

Mrs. Featherington should be there as well, Colin thought to himself. This was Penelope’s debut season. What mother, wouldn’t accompany a daughter as sweet and innocent as Penelope everywhere?

“Mamá would never allow me to wear a dress like this.” Penelope’s smile brightened the darkened garden even more. “Not yellow enough, I think.” She giggled self-deprecatingly.

Colin had taken note of how especially lovely Penelope looked that night. Although it was hard for Penelope to look bad, given her cute face and enchanting hair, her mother seemed to be trying to detract from her looks with every yellow frock she forced on her. He would acknowledge that according to Eloise having a nice face and pleasant hair should not be considered an accomplishment. But given the lack of genteel stock in Penelope’s lineage, it was indeed a glowing accomplishment in contrast to her older sisters, at least according to Colin’s preferences.

Before Colin could genuinely compliment Penelope’s dress, Cressida Cowper appeared and interrupted their conversation. Accompanied by her entourage of ninnies, they pushed between he and Penelope.

“Mr. Bridgerton...” Cressida’s voice really grated on Colin’s nerves. “I believe you owe me a dance this evening. And I only have one more space remaining on my card at present.”

“How convenient.” Penelope observed, her words so softly spoken that Colin almost… almost didn’t hear her. But her tremulous voice carried over to Colin. It was like a melody… a song only for him in contrast to Cressida’s.

Cressida thrust her dance card out to her side and simultaneously spilled her drink on the front of Penelope’s dress. “Penelope, I did not see you there!” Cressida feigned shock.

Penelope gasped in sheer mortification, turning away from them as the blast of cold liquid slid down her chest. She looked down to check her dress, thanking heaven that the drink was clear and would not stain. Penelope felt heat color her cheeks and her eyes began to water. She was so proud of the way she looked that night and to have this happen to her at Cressida’s hands and in the presence of Colin no less, she thought she would pass out from the humiliation.

Colin glared at Cressida. How dare she attempt to injure Penelope’s person with that drink and right in front of him. He thought to himself, if Cressida was not a Lady and barely one at that… His anger peaked at the mental image of what he would do. His nostrils flared at her before he turned his attention back to Penelope.

“I’m afraid I cannot offer you that dance, Miss Cowper.” Colin’s voice barely remained courteous. “I am to escort Miss Featherington, to the floor.” His decided rejection of Cressida caused Penelope to turn around, astonished.

Penelope’s blue eyes, glossy with embarrassment, met his. Colin had a fierce look on his face. Determined he was, not to allow anyone to mistreat her in his presence. He reached for Penelope's gloved hand, slipping her tiny feminine satin-clad fingers through his larger masculine ones, as he glared once again at Cressida before escorting Penelope away and onto the dance floor.

Colin spun Penelope into position just as the spirited dance started. His fingers glided across the brocade material along her upper back. Her soft tresses skimmed across the back of his hand… This was one of Colin’s favorite dances and he smiled down at her excitedly. Penelope was an amazing partner. The embarrassment caused by Cressida eased from her eyes and she matched his enthusiam for the dance. The eager smile on her face as he spun her around caused an ache to invade inside his chest. The protectiveness he felt moments ago seemed to increase ten fold and everything inside of him wanted that smile to remain on her face for the rest of her life.

When the dance ended, Colin found himself irrationally thinking of a reason to keep Penelope's hand in his. An illogical impulse, given it would be improper since he was not officially courting her. The reminder to himself, that he was not in fact courting Penelope Featherington, but had expressed an interest in her distant cousin caused him to be inexplicably confused and annoyed with himself. The annoyance he felt was upsetting to him and he clenched his jaw in vexation. Just as he was about to convince himself to let her go, the announcement began…

“Ladies and Gentleman, a most extraordinary event is about to take place.

Right this way!

Come! Come!”

Colin looked down at Penelope just as she gazed her startled blue eyes up at him. Just looking in her eyes soothed away his baffling aggravation. He smiled at her mischievously as he pulled her along side him continuing to hold her hand. Definitely not letting go of her now.

Penelope was delighted that Colin wanted to continue their time together at the ball. The way he looked at her during their dance… she knew it was just a result of his protective nature. She believed he was genuinely outraged by Cressida’s behavior toward her. But his continued attention made her heart soar, even more than usual, just from being around him. A sort of magic seemed to envelop them, almost as if Colin was finally seeing her as a woman and not like a little sister. Penelope worried that the let down from reality settling around her again would break her heart irreparably.

“Come along, Pen. We must not miss this most extraordinary event!” Colin continued to grin at her as he pulled Penelope along.

Colin spotted an open section near the edge of the crowd and stopped there. It was a bit darker there, secluded away from the torches, and he couldn’t make out everyone around them. He tugged Penelope a bit closer in front of him as more people surrounded them.

He noticed that she trembled a bit, so he leaned down near her ear. “Are you ok, Pen?”

Penelope was looking forward to the show, whatever this would be, but she had never been quite comfortable with the dark or with surprises.

Penelope felt Colin squeeze her hand and she looked up at him. His blue eyes warm with concern. “Yes, I’m ok. It is just a bit scary is all.”

Colin smiled at her then and her heart skipped a beat. “Everything will be ok. I’m right here. I would not let anything bad happen to you.” And she knew, she could feel that Colin meant it.

“Do you trust me, Pen?” He asked, holding her gaze fervently.

Looking into his eyes so close to hers was intoxicating and Penelope began to feel a little unsteady on her feet. She swayed a little as she answered him. “Y- Yes, o-of course I trust you, Colin.”

Colin noticed that she stuttered a bit, but she seemed to get her bearings.

“Good.” Penelope’s assurance that she trusted him, did something to his insides and Colin felt unbalanced.

The announcement picked up again…

“It is with great privilege I present Vauxhall’s newest spectacle of illumination. Feast your eyes above and allow all that is radiant to overwhelm you!”

Penelope squeezed Colin’s hand just as the lights illuminated all at once above them. They were surrounded by the glass bulbs! The brilliance was magnificent. The sudden amazement caused Penelope to step back into Colin. His chest cradled her head and his other hand, that wasn’t holding hers, grabbed her waist to steady her.

The MC continued,

“Wonderful Light! Thank you!”

“Its alright.” Colin murmured softly into her hair. She smelled like orange blossoms. Colin could not keep himself from breathing her in. He wondered if it was just her hair or if she smelled of the fragrant flower all over her body. The hand holding her waist moved unconsciously to the ends of her rosy hair, his fingers delicately caressed the softness of her strawberry locks. Colin’s mind was muddled, he closed his eyes in contentment, memorizing the texture of her hair. He couldn’t think straight. He had to stop himself from dropping a kiss to the top of her head, the need to be a comfort to her began to outweigh his reason.

Penelope thought she imagined Colin’s fingers in her hair. The closeness of his body to hers was heady… She closed her eyes briefly, relishing in the warmth of him behind her. She inhaled at the pleasure of her current situation. She’d never been this close to Colin. The electrifying heat of his body pressed against hers was causing her to be incoherent. She began to breathe in shallow pants, her breaths coming quickly. Unsettled by her reaction to him, she moved away from him, letting go of his hand.

Colin felt the immediate loss of the warmth radiating from Penelope’s body pressed along his front. When she dropped his hand and moved away from him, he felt the grimace on his face and heard the growl in his throat. Desperate to have Penelope near again, he grabbed her hand and turned her to face him.

“Pen…” Colin spoke her name, not knowing what else to say, but also needing to stop her retreat from him.

Penelope looked down at her hand grasped in Colin’s, realizing that her glove had slipped off. “Oh…” was all she could say. The moment felt unmistakably intimate, him holding her hand again, this time bare.

“I’m sorry.” Colin apologized when he realized he’d unintentionally removed Penelope’s satin glove. “Allow me…” He bent down and retrieved her glove from the grass, her bare hand remained cradled in his the entire time.

His expression mischievous again, as he rose to his full height. “I guess I’m to keep it as a favour now.” Colin teased Penelope. He needed to take away the self-consciousness he saw in her eyes.

“Are you going off to battle then?” Penelope teased Colin back, unable to resist his ever present charm. She could think of no other time a lady’s favour was given.

“Well, there seems to be a fight for refreshments. And as a Gentleman, I will gladly enter the fray to procure something to drink for you, Pen.” Colin folded Penelope’s glove and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket finally letting her hand go reluctantly.

Colin looked down at Penelope adoringly. He couldn’t help himself, stepping closer to her, he whispered. “Wish me luck in battle?”

Penelope knew Colin was teasing her again, but he made her breathless. “Good luck.” She smiled and then she bit her bottom lip. “Promise me that you will return it me?” She looked pointedly to his chest where her glove rested inside his pocket.

Colin could only focus on the lushness of her mouth as she bit her full bottom lip, he was beginning to feel dizzy like he was spinning… spinning out of control. “You trust me, don’t you, Penelope?”

“Of course, Colin.” Penelope didn’t recognize her own voice. The huskiness of it, she couldn’t control as Colin inched even closer to her.

Colin bent down, next to her ear and whispered. “Good girl. Stay right here for me. I’ll be back.” He leaned in close enough that he smelled her intoxicating hair once more before he pulled himself away from Penelope and then walked toward the refreshments.

As Penelope watched as Colin walked away, his tall regal form a feast for her eyes, she noticed his brother Anthony walk up to him.

Colin was taking deep breaths to regain his composure as he walked away from Penelope. He felt a hand on his arm and turned to find Anthony with a stern expression on his face. He followed Anthony’s gaze to Penelope.

“She’s so young Colin… you need to try harder to conceal your… baser interests. Stop touching her so much. Don’t forget yourself. Penelope is a proper lady.” Anthony scolded Colin.

“I was not… I did not… for you to imply…” Colin couldn’t even form a sentence in his defense as twisted as his insides felt by his brother’s insinuations.

“Imply?” Anthony continued. “I saw. Your hand on her waist, apart from dancing. Your hand in her hair. The caress of her bare hand… and this could have been in the view of half the Ton. It is a wonder her father did not come looking for her and witness these improprieties or I would be making arrangements for you to court Penelope Featherington properly!" Anthony’s eyebrows raised in admonishment. “… and not expressing interest in her distant cousin.” The distorted expression on Anthony’s face spoke to how he felt about Colin’s fleeting interest in Miss Thompson.

“It will be a miracle if this is not in Whistledown tomorrow and I am not forced to have to make an offer on your behalf myself.” Anthony continued to reprimand Colin.

“Anthony, I would never do anything to scandalize Penelope!” Colin declared passionately. He could not even conceive of hurting her that way. He found that the thought of Anthony having to make an offer for Penelope’s hand on his behalf did not scare him and that lack of apprehension caused him uncertainty.

“I know that you would not, Colin. And I am not suggesting that you are. I am saying that your feelings... unacknowledged... for Penelope are maybe getting in the way of your… sensibilities where she is concerned.” Anthony pointed out.

“My feelings… for Penelope?” Colin was so confused. Penelope was his friend. He had not meant to be improper with her in any way. But he had begun to acknowledge in his mind and body that Penelope was becoming a woman… in every way. His reactions to her may very well be putting her in danger from him.

“Yes, Colin. I have eyes. I see you clear as day. You may not be ready to admit to or are even aware of how you feel about her. You do have feelings for her, not just emotionally, but now physically as well and you need to think about what you really want long term. Penelope has… developed a lush womanly form. Her curves are tempting to you, I see. Miss Thompson may be more mature and more able to handle your… physical interests right now, where as you would have to wait a while for Penelope to be ready for that.”

“Stop! Stop right now, Anthony. Speaking about Penelope in this way is improper and I will not engage with you any further on this.” Colin found his fists were balled up and his anger, at his brother was a tangible thing in his mouth… a vileness that he could taste. Anthony’s criticism of how he had handled Penelope and even more his comments on how her body had developed the curves of a woman, the kind of woman that Colin realized he was irresistibly drawn to, would be his undoing.

“See, you did not even mention Miss Thompson. Your irascible temper with regard to any perceived slight of Penelope…” Anthony spoke to Colin’s unexpressed feelings for Penelope, again. “All of that emotion… that is about Penelope Featherington.”

Colin clenched his jaw tightly and rolled his eyes at the truth of his brother’s perceptions. He balled his fists against his side as well.

“I am not telling you what to do, so do not look at me like that. I am merely pointing out that if you keep carrying on like this over Penelope and you keep finding yourself behaving in the manner in which you have tonight, you will not be in a position to make a decision. It will have been made for you. Does she not deserve for you to truly choose her? And loathe that I am of a match between you and Miss Thompson, I do not want you to have to contend with hurting her either.”

Colin took a deep breath before addressing his brother again. “Penelope is dear to me… so dear that I - I treasure her and our friendship. I would never hurt her intentionally, brother. That is all I’m willing to say on the matter. I do not wish to discuss Penelope with you any further here like she is the topic of some common gossip. I shall escort her back to her father, after the fireworks are over. Colin declared and then walked off, feeling immensely frustrated.

“See that you do, Colin.” Anthony called after him as Colin disappeared.

Colin turned from the refreshment table and spotted Penelope immediately again. His eyes seeking her siren hair. She had remained just as he had asked her to. A good girl for him she was indeed.

When Colin finally returned to her with refreshments, Penelope’s bright expectant blue eyes found his troubled ones.

“Is everything ok, Colin?” Penelope asked softly. “I saw you speaking with your brother…”

Colin smiled at her slightly as she drank her lemonade. He could not help it. She was so sweet, the most kind-hearted person he had ever known aside from his mother. Her concern mollified him. His anxiousness over his conversation with Anthony slipped away easily in her presence.

“Penelope, your dress is lovely tonight. I wanted to tell you that before Cressida showed up.” Colin could not help it, even after being cautioned by Anthony of being improper with her, he inched closer to her and took her bare hand in his again.

“Thank you, Colin.” Penelope sighed. The warmth of his hand surrounding hers made her breathless again. It felt almost as if Colin did not realize what he was doing.

“May I ask, how it came to be this rather fetching shade of pink and not yellow?” Colin teased her again. His eyes sparkling at her. They now looked the exact opposite of when he arrived with their drinks.

“Well, I was allowed to choose the color for myself, rather than mamá.” Penelope admitted. Her cheeks brightened to a beautiful shade of pink.

“You did well, Pen. It looks exquisite against your sun-fire hair and makes your porcelain skin look like the finest silk…” Colin looked down at her feeling inebriated, his voice betraying his ardor. His stomach flipped when he noticed her licking her pink lips before she spoke his name on a melodic sigh, again.

“Colin…” Penelope couldn’t believe he had actually described her that way… passionately… his voice filled with longing.

Colin raised Penelope’s hand to his lips, just as the music started for the next dance. He kissed the back of her fingers of her bare hand and Penelope was startled at the softness of his lips on her. She did not know what to say… She could not form words. All the breath had left her.

“One more dance, Pen? Before the night is over.” Colin requested. His eyes never leaving hers and her hand securely grasped in his. He didn’t have an excuse for his continued behavior with her and he found he didn’t care to continue to contemplate.

“I’ve never danced this one… in public.” Penelope admitted. She was so unnerved by Colin’s continued attention she would have agreed to anything at that point.

Colin smiled down at her, playfully. “Do you trust me, Pen?”

“Of course, Colin.” She assured him again on a sigh. “But this one is… what if I miss a step?” She was doubting herself and her ability to actually move after Colin’s kiss on her fingers.

“Penelope Featherington, you are an amazing dancer. You will be fine. He pulled her closer to the dance floor, but waited for her acquiescence. Colin looked her over as if he couldn’t bear for her to refuse him. "Please do me the honor?”

“Yes, Colin.” She smiled brightly at him. Her smile more luminescent than the globes of artificial light, her eyes sparkled more than the fireworks display. She even rivaled the stars that night as he spun her around and around on the dance floor.

It was a beautiful night indeed.

150 notes · View notes

inskz · 4 years

Text

lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

- - - - -

“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse.

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence.

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them).

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you.

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now.

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago.

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh).

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him.

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen.

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff.

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it.

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups.

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything.

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas.

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly.

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil.

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear.

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch.

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.

“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone.

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little…

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter.

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered.

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask.

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain.

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in.

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt.

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately.

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget).

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground.

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you.

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch.

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy.

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials.

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter.

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview.

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes.

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can.

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today.

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso.

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling.

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue).

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you?

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time.

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall.

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next.

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right?

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should.

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball.

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves.

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious.

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in.

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start.

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours.

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil.

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - -

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him.

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross.

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal.

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning.

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes.

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it.

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe.

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars.

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate.

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm?

440 notes · View notes

moviemunchies · 3 years

Photo

Apparently Lin-Manuel Miranda was pitching this movie about a decade ago, and no one wanted to pick it up, but I guess having an award-winning musical that even people outside of the theater scene can’t shut up about gives you the clout to get your pitches listened to by animation studios. As you can probably guess, the plan was to release Vivo in theaters, but with the pandemic and all, it, like a lot of Sony films, went straight to Netflix.

First off: Vivo is not a monkey.

Okay I don’t know why this is throwing me so much but I really thought he was a monkey when the first ads came out.

Anyhow.

The story goes like this: Vivo is a kinkajou that for Reasons got lost in Havana, Cuba and was adopted by Andres, an elderly musician. Andres and Vivo make a living playing music in the town square, and it’s a pretty good life! But Andres receives a letter from Marta, his old music partner, to come and play music at her concert in Miami. When they were young, Marta left Cuba and became a famous singer, leaving Andres heartbroken because while he was happy her career was taking off, he never told her how he felt. Despite Vivo’s protests, he decides that he’s going to go to the concert and share a song he wrote that describes exactly how he feels.

Only Andres passes away in the night.

Vivo remains determined to deliver the song to Marta, as he feels bound by his love for Andres to fulfill his final wish. Except his only way to Miami is Andres’s niece Gabi, a very loud, independent girl who has some trouble fitting in. And though she wants to help on Vivo’s quest, she’s not always… good at it.

Also despite this being a setting with intelligent, talking animals, it’s established pretty early on that humans can’t understand animals. So that limits things considerably.

So it’s a race against time! Gabi and Vivo have to get to Miami before Marta’s concert so they can deliver Andres’s last song. But it’s a journey with danger, and music, and frustrations, and very persistent Girl Scouts chasing them.

First off: Lin-Manuel Miranda voices Vivo, and he teamed up once again with Alex Lacamoire for the music for this film, and it shows because it’s fantastic. Even Gabi’s ‘This is Who I Am’ song, which wasn’t really my taste, nor Vivo’s given how he reacts, is incredibly catchy. The songs are great, and so if you’re interested in animated musicals or Miranda’s work, then you’ve got to see the movie for that. It’s good stuff.

Second: there’s a chunk of this movie that feels like it’s kind of… I don’t know why it’s here. On the journey to Miami our characters get stuck and lost, and have to deal with some problems that don’t actually have to do with anything, thematically, narratively, or in their character arcs. I kind of knew about this going in from IGN’s review, which makes it seem like this part of the movie is just boring, which it’s not. But it feels very unnecessary. I tried to think of a way for this to work, because after all Finding Nemo has quite a few random encounters and it’s a fine movie. But part of the thing in Finding Nemo is that it’s about Marlin, a very straight-laced and risk-averse father, going out of his comfort zone because he’s willing to do anything to save his son.

We’re never given the impression that Vivo is risk-averse? I suppose he’s definitely out of his comfort zone here, and he is pushing himself past what he’s used to, but it’s not like this is a massive part of his character. So it feels odd and weird and like we just needed some more songs and talking animals in the movie.

[And again, to be clear the music is excellent so I don’t mind that much. But the way we get those songs doesn’t feel like a necessary part of the movie.]

Something else that I think might bother people about this movie is Gabi. Gabi’s a bit annoying to begin with, but she is kind of supposed to be, especially to Vivo. She’s not great at coming up with and executing a plan. Which is kind of amusing, but at times is also pretty frustrating. I get it! She’s a kid! She doesn’t know what she’s doing! And sometimes that’s hilarious! And sometimes I can’t help but sympathize with Vivo because if it weren’t for her ruining plans he’d be in Miami a lot faster.

Still, it’s a very colorful, lovable film. The design isn’t as memorable in style as something like Book of Life or Into the Spiderverse but it’s still unique enough that it looks different than everything Disney and Dreamworks is releasing nowadays. Not that those are bad, but there is a certain style that’s been kind of stamped on us as to what animated movies are supposed to look like, and I like when someone does something different.

I liked this movie, but I thought it could have been better if it had fixed a couple of its problems. Those problems were more than made up for by the movie being fun, colorful, and having awesome music. Overall you’ll have fun watching it, I think.

#Vivo #Lin Manuel Miranda #Sony #animation #Movie Munchies

12 notes · View notes

juminsmysticmc · 3 years

Note

Here is the next idea: Rfa + minor duo A writer mc that uses them to help her plan out stories.

RFA + Minor duo with a writer MC that uses them to help her plan out stories

This was in my inbox for...a year? Thanks for waiting, I love you!

Jumin

,,I don’t understand,’’ Jumin laughed as he put on his blue uniform.

,,I need to see every detail of you,’’ you laughed, looking deep into his eyes and describing everything the best to make sure that your new book would turn out perfectly.

,,Well… why not feel every detail…?’’ he asked you, putting his arm around your waist and kissing your neck.

You were still taking notes of everything he did and every feeling he unleashed onto you.

Jumin already knew that you were like that.

He always had to help you to write out your stories and he was okay with it.

Actually, both of you had a bet.

He could only have you if he could manage to make you drop your notebook.

Indeed, Jumin always worked hard, but in order to make it exciting for you he always tried his best.

Well, it was kind of embarrassing to see a few private moments in a book which was a bestseller in the whole world, but you never said in the public that Jumin helped you out.

In your book, Jumin was a bodyguard who had to protect you. He was a politician who had a lot of dirty stuff to do and often played with people.

The story was actually you and Jumin’s life, just written a bit different and with mixed characters.

But whatever you would write, Jumin would always be proud of you.

Zen

,,Okay Zenny, you need to tell me every single feeling you are feeling on stage,’’ you said and began to type on the keyboard.

Zen couldn’t believe that he was your boyfriend, his manager, and girlfriend was actually a hobby artist who loved to write stories and actually used him to plan her stories.

Zen often said that the both of them were the perfect couple because he would always plan out her books, and you would always manage his schedule.

,,Okay, so, I feel scared but also excited. I can’t describe this feeling, but I feel as if my heart would break into 1,000 pieces out of my body.

I feel warm and cold at the same time. I feel like crying and laughing. I have mixed feelings up there.

I try to implant every single face of them into my brain to always remember my fans,’’ You never stopped typing.

The story you were currently writing was a story of a young idol and the world of show business.

You wanted to show the world that idols were human too.

That Idols could be scared, imperfect, fall in love, make mistakes and simply be themselves too.

And with your book, you already took the first step.

Yoosung

,,Am I something like your muse?’’ he asked you and smiled as he read your story.

,,Somehow,’’ you laughed and took a bite of your cake.

,,This sounds very like me,’’ he laughed and pointed at one line which actually made you chuckle.

,,Hey! This really happened!’’ he laughed again and looked at you.

And here again, the thing you always described in your books, in our stories.

The stars and love you saw in his eyes whenever he finished reading a scene and asked you if you really felt like that.

Indeed, this book had your feelings in them. Your thoughts and the way you saw Yoosung, the one who supported you the best when you couldn’t do anything.

When you failed at publishing your book, when you failed at finding a sponsor.

This book had a storyline no one could ever fulfill. It was your fairy tale with details of your daily lie with Yoosung.

,,Thank you,’’ you looked up when Yoosung spoke up.

,,Thank you for loving me and seeing me that way,’’ he went on.

,,I love you,’’ you whispered and kissed him.

Jaehee

,,Are you sure that you can handle that? I wish I could do more,’’ Jaehee said as she corrected the writings on the table.

,,Yeah. I mean, you already did so much: searching for a publisher, the money, it’s alright,’’ you smiled.

,,Indeed, Jaehee already did so much for you. She supported you so much.

And you were trying to thank her with all you could.

Writing a book about her, making her dream come true of opening a coffee shop; you did your best with everything.

And you knew that Jaehee did the same for you.

Both of you were helping each other with everything in your power.

,,Here, some coffee,’’ she whispered and put the mug next to you.

You stopped typing and inhaled the scent of the fresh brewed coffee.

,,I need to write this down and make a scene where my heroine doesn’t fight but just enjoys some coffee, just like me,’’ you laughed.

,,Ahahaha, well, this would be great,’’ Jaehee laughed.

You smiled.

Both of you knew that this scene would come some time.

After all, it came true for Jaehee: the time where all her dreams came true and with this book, you wanted to show the people that anything was possible.

Just like it was with Jaehee.

Saeyoung

It literally took your future husband a night to implant a virus in the whole korean industry to make people read your book, making you come out big in the whole world.

The phone was ringing ever since you got up and people began to spam your Instagram page.

The TV was filled with your name. Actually, it was kind of scary, but you also enjoyed the attention.

,,I kind of feel like people just read it now because I’m famous,’’ you said and played with your nails.

,,Nah, people don’t spend money on shitty stuff,’’ he said to encourage you.

You began to sit at your desk and begin to take some notes.

,,Do you need help?’’ he asked you and began to type some things in his laptop, searching for relaxing music for you.

,,Yeah, in book two, the secret agent in the first book was shot. Tell me how a bullet shot feels like and how to get it out. What does a private doctor look like and why do they help bad people?’’ you asked him, ready to use every single word he tells you in a few seconds.

And then he began.

Well, he had to assure you that he was never shot and that there was no way that he even had to visit a doctor who would never tell anyone about his medical record, but he could help you with the first chapter.

The character was based on Saeran and Saeyoung.

The bad people were actually based on V and Rika, but also your supposed father in law had a big role.

And so, with his support, you could write a fantastic chapter, and now that more people noticed you, the second book would be an even bigger hit.

Saeran

You were one of Korean’s most well known manhwa authors and were more than happy to share the truth about your story.

And of course, like always, whatever you did, everything was pretty close to the true events.

Well, at first Saeran was against it, but when Jumin read what you planned to do, he was for it, making Saeran change his mind too.

,,It may be a good way of bringing people to our side,’’ he nodded.

,,But, Mc, if I may, my character looks a bit plain and is described as a cat lover. Could you please change it into cat protector?’’ he mumbled and looked up to you, making Yoosung laugh.

,,And you really think that this can help us to find my brother?’’ he asked,making you nod.

,,I’m positive,’’ you assured him.

Later in the evening, Saeran laid next to you, looking up to the ceiling.

,,Are you scared? Should I drop it?’’ you asked him.

,,No, I just had to think about it… how you see me. I’m not this strong. People will get the wrong idea. I can’t do anything alone, I -’’

,,You came this far. This book is saying the truth. Everyone sees you as a strong man, Saeran. So do I and so will my readers. Trust me, please…’’

And with that, both of you fell asleep in a warm embrace...

Jihyun

,,I can’t describe how happy I am to welcome you all today,’’ you said, looking into the crowd of your big party.

This was already the third party you organized ever since Jihyun was back, with the difference that today you guys had a special occasion.

,,I would like to thank you for this long lasting support, without you all, I couldn’t have possibly been able to write this book.

And I want to thank my muse, the inspiration of this book, who didn’t just help me, telling me more about his mind, and letting me publish this book, but he also helped me with the books layout and it’s cover; a self drawn picture by my Fiancé,’’ you said as Jihyun smiled at you from behind.

You wrote about mental health, inserting everyone’s thoughts with Jihyun’s put in first.

How to help someone and how to help if a person itself feels worried and confused about all those feelings and thoughts.

You wanted to help people just like Jihyun tried to help others.

,,Now, let’s enjoy the party and please keep supporting us!’’ Jihyun said and held his glass up.

Looking around yourself, you thought that you did the right thing.

Everyone had their own way of helping others and that was right. Still, you hoped that you could change something and make the sun shine a bit brighter.

MASTERLIST 1

MASTERLIST 2

MASTERLIST 3

16.04.2020// 22:17 MEST

44 notes · View notes

andyet-here-we-are · 4 years

Text

Head Over Feet

Words: 4,057 Chapters: 1/1

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

A/N: Thanks @3tothe1 for checking my errors. You are the best, sweetheart.

Additional Tags: Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, but not that much angst etc so no worries, Fluff, Geralt writes a song for Jaskier, Geralt sings to Jaskier, mention of nightmares, Happy Ending

I hope you enjoy reading this, my dear Witchlings! 💛

(P.S: I highly recommend listening to Jonah Platt’s “Head Over Feet” cover since I was inspired by it, but shhh, we’re gonna pretend that Geralt wrote that song.)

***

“No, Jaskier. I won’t fucking sing. You better stop waiting for it.”

“But Geralt!” Jaskier whined, “You promised me!”

Yeah, right. The promise Jaskier wasn’t supposed to hear in the first place.

The promise Geralt was more than glad he had heard nevertheless.

“And now I’m saying that won’t happen.”

About two weeks ago, being the foolish, brave bard he was, Jaskier had tried to distract a Slezaerek so Geralt could kill it effortlessly. It had worked, but not without a cost, sadly.

Jaskier was hurt in the progress of doing that, and “Witchers don’t have feelings” his ass, Geralt was more than terrified that he was going to lose his little hummingbird for good this time.

“Just keep your eyes open, please,” the Witcher had almost begged as he tore a strip from his already ripped doublet and tied it cautiously around Jaskier’s wound to stop the bleeding.

“You need to keep your beautiful eyes open, understood? Jaskier? Do you understand?”

He wasn’t supposed to sleep. He shouldn’t. Because the thing with Sleazaeraks was, getting bitten by one meant there was no waking up ever again if you fell asleep.

Too bad the poison they had in them was enough to put a whale to sleep.

“And w-what’s in it for me?” was Jaskier’s answer, eyes already heavy with sleep. The antidote the Witcher made him drink wasn’t near enough to what he needed, yet he still hoped that it would be enough to keep Jaskier awake for a while.

“Keep your damn eyes open,” Geralt wanted to say.

And maybe the old Geralt, who rarely expressed his feelings to anyone unless those feelings had gotten something to do with anger, would say that.

But what left his mouth instead was: “I’ll sing a song for you if you hang on, if you don’t fall asleep. Just hang on till I get you to a healer.”

“Promise..?” The bard’s eyes had closed for a second before he revealed his baby blues to Geralt again, “you have to promise. It feels so tempting to sleep right now, my dear. You–”

“I promise. Hang on for me, little hummingbird. You always wanted to hear me sing, right? You have to hang on then.”

Thanks to all the gods in every religion -if they even really existed- Jaskier had managed to stay awake with Geralt’s help.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life!” Jaskier walked towards him with loud and determined steps, breaking the Witcher away from his thoughts.

“You have been waiting for only two weeks. Don’t be dramatic.”

“No, I’m not being dramatic, I’m being honest. You stop talking rubbish. I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life!” Jaskier insisted with a little, cute frown, making Geralt let out a small chuckle.

Yennefer rolled his eyes at the bard, “Ever the dramatic. Also, honest? Really? You are the most dishonest person if your songs are anything to go by.”

“You. Lying. Snowman.” The dramatic bard in question ignored her, poking Geralt’s chest with his index finger between every word. “I knew it, I fucking knew you wouldn’t keep your promise! I should have just kept my eyes closed!”

“Don’t say that.” The Witcher said. “You…”

“You wouldn’t be here now if you did,” was unheard. But Jaskier understood anyway.

“At least I wouldn’t have to witness such a– such a betrayal!”

Instead of saying something, Geralt looked at Yennefer, she gave him a knowing look in return -which Jaskier didn’t miss, of course-

“Wait a minute, you’re hiding something!”

“Yeah, his desire for killing you so you would finally stop nagging like a bitch,” Yennefer sighed tiredly, clearly feeling a bit annoyed by Jaskier’s antics.

“I’m not hiding something,” he lied.

He was definitely hiding something, but Jaskier didn’t need to know that.

Not yet.

“I hate my life sometimes,” the bard kept complaining, crossing his arms and finally accepting that he wasn’t going to hear Geralt singing today: “Anyway, I’m not cooking today, you are on your own.”

“And how is that supposed to be a threat? Jask, no offence, but even Ciri cooks better than you. We nearly had food poisoning the last time you tried to cook.”

“I’m sorry. What do you mean by even?” came Ciri’s voice.

Well, fuck. He probably shouldn’t have said that.

“Hey, I’m gonna go take a walk, wanna come?” Jaskier asked Ciri before Geralt could answer Ciri’s question.

“He is trying to save my ass even when he is mad at me,” Geralt thought, looking at the bard with such a loving look, but then the other man added: “Betrayed people gotta stick together, you know,” and that loving look immediately turned into a “Disappointed But Not Surprised” look.

“Sure,” agreed Ciri, giving Geralt a meaningful look before she disappeared into the woods with Jaskier.

“Wow, you really have no idea how to talk a lady. Also, you better figure out how to complete that song before your bard gives you another tantrum and crush his lute over your head or something,” said Yennefer

“Helpful as always, Yen.”

He couldn’t deny that she was right, though.

***

After spending six more nights to complete his song, Geralt was finally ready to fulfill his promise finally.

It was certainly going to be a big surprise for Jaskier since Geralt had made it clear that he wouldn’t sing. And just three days ago, Jaskier had apologized to him.

“I’m sorry that I kinda overreacted before,” he had said. “Okay, not kinda. But I just… I’ve always wondered what your singing voice sounds like, so when you said you weren’t going to sing, I felt disappointed. Anyway, I wrote a new song, you wanna hear?”

So, yeah. He was gonna be so surprised.

And oh God, he had no idea how Jaskier could do it before so many people. “Having the voice of an angel probably helps,” his mind suggested not-so-helpfully.

He had an audience of three people, three people that mean the world to him, and he was already stressed as hell. He would rather sing to an Ethereal instead.

The Witcher didn’t even know how to do this. How should he start? By saying “I’ve written a song for you,” or by singing out of the blue? Should he stand while singing? Or is it a better idea to just sit?

And for God’s sake, where should he put his damn hands?

Would it be weird if he just kept his hands at his sides? Would that make him look like a puppet in a box or something?

For a moment, he wished he knew how to play the lute. So he could just sit down and play it, not having to think about his hands. He should have let Jaskier teach him when he offered it months ago. Well, there was no point thinking about that now.

“Okay, Geralt, give yourself a minute. You can do this,” he assured himself and took a deep breath. “Just remember why you’re doing this, and just do whatever feels natural. Say something romantic before you start, maybe.”

When he took a look at Jaskier, who was sitting by the fire across from him with Ciri and talking to her excitedly about something, he knew that he shouldn’t be worried about any of these things. And he shouldn’t worry about forgetting the words, even though he felt like he would forget and make a fool of himself.

“Jaskier!” He called as Ciri stood up to go to Yennefer’s side. “Are you planning to shut your mouth at least for a couple of minutes anytime soon?”

“So much for making a romantic remark before you start singing. Well done Geralt, way to go,” a voice inside his head scolded him as Jaskier said something he failed to catch. It wasn’t his fault that it was what felt natural. Being romantic wasn’t his strong suit, but he was trying to improve.

“Okay, so. It won’t be the best song you’ve ever heard, but it’s the best I can do. If any of you laugh at me while I’m singing, I’ll kick your sorry asses.”

“Wait, wha–”

He took a deep breath once again and started singing, keeping his eyes on Jaskier as he gaped with wide-open eyes.

“I had no choice but to hear you

You stated your case time and again

I thought about it

You treat me like I’m a damn prince

I’m not used to liking that

You ask how my day was”

He heard Ciri letting out a little chuckle at the “damn prince,” part, and he gave her a warning look before turning his gaze on Jaskier again, standing up.

There was no lie in it, Jaskier did treat him like he was a prince. He treated the Witcher like he wasn’t someone people were afraid of, but someone good and royal. Someone who deserved to be respected. Someone who deserved all the compliments in the whole world, not ugly slurs.

Someone who deserved to be loved.

“You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault,” he sang, pointing at the bard while singing “it’s all your fault.”

Geralt nodded at him like saying “yes, I mean you, you silly bard,” when Jaskier briefly looked around as if he wasn’t sure Geralt was singing to him.

Of course, he meant him.

Because it sure was his fault.

It was Jaskier’s fault that his smile was more bright and dazzling than the afternoon sun, warming Geralt inside every time.

It was his fault that he had the biggest heart of gold Geralt had ever encountered, filled with so much love.

His fault that he had a voice that would make angels weep with jealousy. His fault that he was just so… Jaskier.

“Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole

You’re so much braver than I gave you credit for

That’s not lip service”

He found his hands moving naturally against his will as he sang. Guess he was worried for nothing.

“You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault”

He sang the chorus once again, walking towards the man who he was able to render speechless for once, for a good reason hopefully this time. Speechless, and surprised as hell.

When he was finally in front of Jaskier, he reached his hands out tentatively towards him, hoping that the bard would just take the hint and hold them. Sadly, he didn’t. So Geralt just bent over and grabbed his hands, pulling him up from the log he was sitting on. Then, with a barely audible sigh, he closed his eyes, not sure if he could sing that part while looking at Jaskier.

He kept singing after swallowing thickly to find his voice again, not letting go of the bard’s dainty hands:

“You are the bearer of unconditional things

You held your breath and the door for me

Thanks for your patience

You’re the best friend that I’ve ever had

Let’s be boyfriends

What are we waiting for?

What took me so long?”

“Did he just ask him to be his boyfriend?” Geralt heard Ciri gasp quietly.

“Fucking finally,“ he was sure that Yennefer was rolling his eyes right now, “they were already acting like boyfriends anyway. Well, or more like an old married couple.”

Wait, were they?

Deep down, he knew that Jaskier had feelings for him, too. But still, he couldn’t help but think “What if I’m wrong?”

What if he was opening his heart only to get it broken?

No, no way.

He was being ridiculous.

Jaskier loved him, too. There was no way that would happen.

He knew that he did. Maybe Geralt was just too stubborn to see it at first, maybe it got him decades to accept that someone could truly love him, yeah, but he finally did accept it.

They loved each other.

And it was only Geralt’s fault that he kept pushing Jaskier away from himself for so long.

It was only when he finally was succeeded, he regretted it.

He regretted it deeply.

He was aware of everything after having to spend half of the year Jaskierless - yes, it was a real word to him, more real than any word, even, it meant “suffering” “pain” and “sadness” in his dictionary - he was aware of his love for him.

If anything, it was Jaskier who should have been afraid.

Afraid of getting hurt by him again, afraid of being vulnerable again.

Because he had already laid his heart bare to the Witcher before, yet Geralt had broken his heart so badly.

But Jaskier had given him another chance anyway, and Geralt had promised himself to do his best not to make him regret it.

The white-haired man had said goodbye to The Old Geralt right when he got that chance.

“Goodbye,” he had told him, “no longer hiding behind excuses, no longer always avoiding to express yourself. Maybe it will be difficult to say goodbye to you, I know. And you will appear again in front of people I don’t know, as it should be, but I have to say goodbye to you. ‘Cause if I go on like this, I will only cause harm to my loved ones, thinking that I am protecting them.”

Perhaps it seemed like there was no radical change at all since one couldn’t suddenly say goodbye to the person he had been for years. Old habits die hard, after all.

But changing was the important thing, no matter how slow.

Back in the day, Geralt would pretend he didn’t care or like it whenever Jaskier composed a new song. But the new Geralt would make little comments on his songs instead of acting like he wasn’t even listening.

And even just saying “That’s a nice song,” or “I don’t hate it,” with the tiniest smile was enough to make Jaskier happy. It was enough to make him realize that things weren’t the same anymore.

The new Geralt showed it when he was concerned for the bard, and he paid attention to Jaskier’s feelings, to his warnings, to him.

He tried his best to make it up for his every mistake.

He tried his best to be the friend Jaskier deserved since the very beginning.

It wasn’t just a one-sided deal, though. Because Jaskier had his own regrets as well, and he knew that neither he nor Geralt was flawless.

There were moments Geralt would get mad about something that had happened; moments that required him to be alone for a while.

While old Jaskier would try to lighten the mood with jokes and would force him to say something, new Jaskier wouldn’t do that.

He would just say: “I’m here if you wanna talk,” and when Geralt was back, he would do his best to make him feel better. He would get him in the bath if Geralt wanted him to, washing him with such care. Then he would make him a nice cup of tea before insisting that he needed to take a nap.

Not once would he open his mouth to say anything about whatever had upset Geralt unless the white-haired man said something about it first.

One of these days, Geralt had asked the bard while he was washing the Witcher silently: “Do you remember when I said that I needed no one..?”

With that question, the gentle hands that massaging his scalp had come to a halt.

“You know what they say,” Jaskier had replied bitterly, the tone of hurt in his voice making Geralt ache “one has to forget first to remember.”

“I was wrong,” Geralt had admitted with a mumble after a moment of heavy silence, turning to his right a bit and reaching over to hug the bard’s legs. “I was so wrong.”

“I need you,” he had thought, his hair dampening the other man’s trousers, “I need you in my life, Jaskier. I can’t say it out loud, but please hear my silent words. Find them in my actions, find them in my touch.”

As if reading his mind, Jaskier had moved one hand to Geralt’s bare shoulder and caressed the skin there gently and slowly before saying: “You have me, Geralt. And I’ll be in your life as long as you want me to be. As long as you act like it.”

Things had changed again after that. In a good way.

They had become more touchy with each other. Jaskier was already a touchy person, but Geralt couldn’t say the same for himself.

Normally.

After their little conversation, Geralt was feeling more comfortable with showing his affection with little things, like ruffling Jaskier’s silky hair when he would pout, annoyed at Geralt for something. Or when he would do something impressive.

Little things like calling him “little hummingbird” instead of just “bard” because Jaskier reminded him of one.

Just like a hummingbird, he was unique and beautiful in every aspect, and it was hard to catch up with him since he was constantly in motion. Also, he usually talked non-stop and when he would stop singing or talking, he would start humming this time. And eh, let’s not forget about his colourful outfits that suited him so well.

So, Geralt called him “hummingbird”, and he could swear that Jaskier’s eyes shined with happiness whenever he called him that.

Maybe he could finally call him “my little hummingbird” pretty soon.

“I’ve never felt this healthy before

I’ve never wanted something rational

I am aware now

You’ve already won me over in spite of me

And don’t be alarmed if I fall head over feet

Don’t be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn’t help it

It’s all your fault”

And he was done.

Yet, even after he finished singing, he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes.

When Jaskier pulled his hands away, he felt his heart clench in his chest. He cursed himself in his head, feeling too anxious to even breathe. Did he fuck everything up? Just like that? Did he just misread everything like a goddamn fool?

What was gonna-

Before he could ask himself any further questions, he felt a feather-light touch on his cheeks.

He opened his eyes only to find Jaskier’s stunning blue eyes shining with tears, looking at him like Geralt had just caught the moon for him.

Geralt waited for him to say something.

Anything.

“Was my singing so terrible it made you cry?” He asked when Jaskier said nothing in a full minute. The bard’s face was so close to his that he could count the drops that were nestled on his long eyelashes.

The white-haired man wiped his tears away with his thumb gently as he leaned in to press their foreheads together. “Or you didn’t like the song? I believe it was much better than The Fishmonger’s Daughter.”

He knew that Jaskier would say something if he made a comment on one of his songs. This was a trick he had learned a long time ago.

“Excuse me,” here it came, “but The Fishmonger’s Daughter is a great song.”

“No, it isn’t. You just sing ‘ba ba,’ and ‘ta-da-da’ for half of the song. Even four years old can do that.”

“And people love it. They love to sing along and it’s catchy, also it has a story in it like every one of my songs,” Jaskier claimed with a weak voice and swallowed as Geralt ran his fingertips lightly along the side of his neck. He sounded like he could break at any moment as he whispered after wrapping one hand around the Witcher’s waist: “Now will you just shut me up with a kiss or should I just keep–”

And who was he to deny Jaskier of something he wanted as well..?

So Geralt shut him up with pressing his lips against his soft lips, kissing him gently but passionately. At first, Jaskier just held him close instead of kissing him back, but then his eyes closed and he returned his kiss with equal fervour.

He could hear the distant cheering of Ciri and Yennefer as they kissed for God knows how long. It was strange how a couple of minutes had felt endless, but also too short at the same time.

“Hey,” Jaskier swallowed again when Geralt pulled back a little and broke the kiss so they could take a breath, “I’ve never heard this song before. Where did you…”

“Because it was written for you, you silly, beautiful dandelion,” answered the Witcher. “By me.”

A beat.

And with that, a loud sob broke free from Jaskier’s throat, tears falling freely over his beautiful face as the sound of footsteps going off into the distance was heard.

“I’m so afraid that this is all happening in my head,” he whispered, burying his head on Geralt’s shoulder, his frame shaking slightly. “I’m fucking terrified that this is nothing but a vivid dream. I’ve waited for so long, Geralt. Countless times I’ve dreamed about hearing you say that you wanted me, too. Not just as a friend, but more. And now, I–” Jaskier took a shaky breath, “Could we just…”

Geralt hugged him, rubbing small soothing circles on his back, not needing Jaskier to complete his sentence.

He knew what he meant anyway.

Because Jaskier wasn’t the only one who felt like this.

There were nights Geralt would still wake up in cold sweat, finding it hard to believe that Jaskier was in the same room with him for real.

More often than not, the bard wouldn’t realize that Geralt had woken up since he was a heavy sleeper who wouldn’t notice if an earthquake happened. So, the white-haired man would just watch him sleep until he could convince himself that he was real.

An impulse to brush his fingers through Jaskier’s silky hair would come up every time without any exceptions.

Sometimes he would almost reach out to him, but then he would instantly retrieve his hand, afraid of waking him up even though he knew that he probably wouldn’t.

But sometimes, he couldn’t resist that impulse and would brush his fingers through Jaskier’s hair oh so carefully. And then stroke against the softness of his cheek before pulling the thick comforter over him, smiling because: “this is real.”

In that rare moments when Jaskier would wake up to see Geralt awake, trying to calm himself, he would ask him what was wrong. And the look Geralt would give him would always be enough for him to understand that what his nightmares were about.

The bard would pull him into his arms then, singing softly, lovingly in his ear.

“Can you just…”

Geralt would start after Jaskier would stop singing eventually, but he could never finish his question.

He could never ask: “Can you just keep holding me for a little while longer?”

But he didn’t need to.

“Sure,” Jaskier would keep holding him as Geralt would close his eyes, listening to the relaxing heartbeats of the bard.

“I’m here, you adorable, big snowman,” he would whisper afterwards. “I’m here.”

So, no.

Geralt definitely didn’t need him to complete his sentence.

“Yeah,” he nodded, pulling him even closer to himself, not even able to tolerate being two-inch apart from him, “we can stay like this, Jaskier.”

“Don’t let go,” Jaskier begged after a while, “Please, don’t let go.”

Just like he did when his screams would break the silence of the night sometimes, alarming all of the Witcher’s senses with concern.

Just like when Geralt would hold him loosely to calm him down, telling him to just follow his breathing and to breathe with him, nice and slow as he would take Jaskier’s hand and place it on his own broad chest.

“Never.” He assured him sweetly, breathing in Jaskier’s heavenly scent and placing a little kiss on his shoulder “Never again, my little hummingbird.”

Seriously…

What took him so long..?

#the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt #the witcher fanfiction #my writing

83 notes · View notes

talldarkandroguesome · 3 years

Text

5th of Frostfall, Tirdas

Finally we came to place where Seryn looked about. Perhaps it was the towering stones that marked the way for her, but we turned sharply and began our way along the Foyada, taking one of the branches just a ways beyond.

I do not wish to disclose any further details, that is already too much to identify the secret, sacred path. I shall say no more of it.

Our journey was slowed significantly by the increase in volcanic activity under our feet. It was bad enough that we had to stop and watch for falling stones. At one point Seryn actually made a shield, protecting us from a bolder that rolled down the side of the mountain. It was clear that the activity was increasing. It was as Tel and the others had warned. It was clear that most animals had sensed the increase themselves, for there was little animal life to be found anywhere near our path, save for the occasional shadow of a passing cliff strider.

I must say, Seryn has a keen ability to avoid cliff striders , something I asked her about as the light began to fade around us. She laughed and told me that perhaps it was that they were drawn to my scent of my incessant talking. I gasped, surprised at such words, but she quickly dissolved into a giggle and I found myself caught completely unexpected in her jest. I laughed myself, so surprised by the turn and I was glad for the break in what had been a lull in conversation as we walked.

After that, she was more jovial. At least until our upward climb drew near to where there appeared to be a cave.

Above, we could hear the wise woman shouting for someone to stay back.

We ran to find her fending off some skafin, of all fetching things! We defeated them with little issue and ran to the wise woman’s side, checking that she was alright.

She told us she was, that Azura had protected her until we arrived, just as predicted. I looked at Seryn, but she just smiled at me. I do not know if she was aware of the secret or if she simply was glad that we were where we were supposed to be.

Then the wise woman stopped, as though hearing something, so Seryn and I kept silent. Then she spoke, as if someone else were there and said she understood. I realized then who she was talking to as soon as she said, my Lady.

When she turned to me and said I should follow her, I felt my face flush in anticipation, my heart racing. As we headed towards the mouth of the cavern, the wise woman told me that the Queen of the Night Sky asked that I help the wise woman in coming to the correct decision regarding a claim. I could hardly believe my ears.

I asked, trying to contain my excitement, if it was regarding Chodala’s claim to be the Nerevarine. She told me I was correct and that clearly my insight as a diplomat would be needed. Although the Red Exiles had been convinced of Chodala’s claim, the wise woman said she was far more uncertain. But there was more she had to consider, for she feared that if she opposed him there would come retribution from the Red Exiles that could well harm all the Velothi in Ald’ruhn, and possibly beyond as well.

As we entered the cave, I was struck by the fact that this was a far more ornate shrine. Instead of the usual statue of Azura, stood with Her arms spread wide and the moon and star sitting upon each palm, this statue had Her seated, Her hands together, palms up, held downward. She appeared more to be offering than Her usual show of radiance. Her face appeared serene and kind. Besides Her were two statues of moon and star. At Her one knee, was a small pond, besides which was an altar covered with offerings.

I pulled myself from the awe that overcame me, I had a duty. A sacred one at that. So I asked the wise woman about her options. We spoke of different outcomes that could come from her decision. Finally, we agreed upon an option that would be the most beneficial, it would stop Chodala while allowing the wise woman to remain impartial. It might have consequences for me, but I assured her that I would be far happier having violence directed towards one House mer, than to risk harm coming to her people.

So she explained that if I could find from the spirits of the failed incarnates what brought about their failure, then those flaws could be compared to Chodala’s ambitions. It would be enough to prove that he was headed towards his own doom. His failure. Then she would be allowed to refute him.

I was thrilled and a bit overwhelmed by everything happening around me. Azura had spoken of me. I was in a sacred shrine, the likes of which I had never seen or heard of. I was going to be asked to speak with the failed incarnations of Nerevar, something I only knew a little about. I was going to be present to dispute an Ashkhan’s claim at Nerevarine. There was so much! It was unreal. I was in this pivotal moment in history. Only, instead of simply trying to help the hero of the story to reach the final stage to defeat evil, here I was actually a player in the outcome of history!

Despite Naryu’s jabs about my being hero, I have never felt that was a role designed for me. Yet, here I was, stepping into a place where likely no one outside of the wise women who maintained the shrine, ever entered. And Azura had asked me to do so.

Surreal is the only word I can think of that begins to describe the feeling.

The wise woman showed me how to summon the spirits and then bade me return to Ald’ruhn when I was done, for she needed to be there when Chodala returned from his meditations. Then she left me to do as I was told.

Making sure to carefully follow every instruction, I summoned the spirits of those thought to be Lord Nerevar’s reincarnations. Then, one by one, I saw the ethereal images of each of those great Velothi heroes who had claimed to be the Nerevarine before, rise up from where they had been laid to rest around Azura’s statue.

I took up ink, quill, and parchment, and I wrote down all that they said. Their stories, in their own words. I made sure to spare no details, writing as fast as I could, even when my hand cramped and my finger tips grew numb. This was far too important to let discomfort stop me.

I thanked each of them for their wisdom. I felt satisfied that I would be able to present these sacred stories, wisdom from those who had experienced it themselves, before the wise woman and Chodala. Perhaps Chodala would even see the folly of his ways and be convinced to continue on his great path in a way more befitting a unifier.

As I made to leave, a voice stopped me.

It was Azura, calling me to speak with Her.

I knelt before the great statue and kowtowed before it. I felt warmth and comfort from Her voice. The void where my soul once lay, instantly filled.

She offered me council before I went to refute Chodala’s claim. Offered me the wisdom in how best to present what I had learned and pressed upon me the importance of succeeding in this endeavor. Further, She told me that it was the staff that was making Chodala so bold and reckless and to prevent further destruction, he must be made to part with with. That he is not the Nerevarine.

That last part could leave no doubt. Chodala was clearly being led astray by the power in the staff. I had wondered by who or what, until I recalled the Skafin who attacked the wise woman. Clearly Chodala had made a deal with the Prince of Bargains. It was something to consider as we took our next steps. Perhaps he could be convinced that he should not try using Daedric pacts to fulfill his ambitions.

Before I left, Azura told me that I should assist her champion, which of course I agreed to. She named Seryn as that mer, a friend to all the Velothi people. I kowtowed again, pressing my forehead upon the cool ground. I swore that I would do so and that I would protect her, even should it cost me several lives.

I felt a pleased feeling all around me and my heart swelled with joy.

Then the radiating feeling began to dim and fade, until I was left alone in the cavern.

As I raised my head, the cavern was dimmer that before and I felt wetness streak my face. As I touched my cheeks, I felt tears. I felt the blessing that was given to me. And I knew my task.

I headed out of the cave and found Seryn waiting for me. She was deep in meditation, but looked up as I approached. She asked me if I had found what we needed. I said that I had and as the moons rose in the sky, I read the words of each of the three failed incarnates to her.

She thought in silence after I had finished. I remained beside her, content in knowing that I had a part to play. Seryn was going to succeed. She would convince her brother with evidence he could not deny. He would be forced to see reason. Then we could explain the gravity of consequence that came with his staff, a consequence that threatened the very people he wanted to unite. If Vivec’s power got too low, Red Mountain would certainly erupt, killing everyone that lived near, Velothi and Housemer alike.

Seryn spoke up and said she would need to sleep on everything and plan our next move. I told her I was hers to command, she only needed to say the word.

She laughed and told me that she was another diplomat, not the Ashkhan. I bowed and played her servant as we stood and gathered our things. I wonder if she understands how truly amazing she is? Does she know yet that she is Azura’s chosen?

It is not my place to say. If she does not know now, she will soon. I am sure of that.

We teleported back to Ald’ruhn and Seryn retired for the night. Normally I would go and sit with the rest of the tribe and drink and sing and enjoy the company, but I felt the weight of what was to come and decided that sleep would be a better use of time.

I only hope that we help Chodala to see wisdom.

#ESO #TES #RP #Dunmer #Elder Scrolls Online #The Elder Scrolls

2 notes · View notes

mr-styles · 4 years

Text

Harry Styles comes back on his own terms

The former One Direction breakout star decided to stop playing it safe and made the album he wanted. He sat down with Tom Power in New York to talk about his "big turning point." | Interview with Tom Power for CBC Radio Q

Tom Power: After the band goes on hiatus, Harry has to figure out who he is as a solo artist, and he’s been on this really interesting, sometimes difficult journey to redefine himself and his songs. He’s set to figure out how to make the music that he wants to make, on his terms. And, as you’re about to hear, it was a bit of a winding road to get there, because even when you become a solo artist, even when you start making more ‘authentic’ music to yourself, your fans, your history, can still influence your work in ways that can pull you away from yourself. I sat down with Harry Styles in Brooklyn in New York. When I spoke to this guy, I saw guy trying to figure it out, trying to figure out how to make the music that he wants to make.

Here’s Harry Styles and our conversation.

Tom: I really loved listening to your record, Harry. I really enjoyed every moment of it. I listened to it when it came out and then I put it on twice yesterday when I knew I coming down. And I really feel like I heard a couple of things. I heard a deep sense of longing in some of those songs and I also heard a sheer joy and they weren’t exclusive from one another. In the moments of longing, I still heard joy ‘cause it felt like I heard you doing what you wanted to do. Am I onto something?

Harry: I think so. I mean, that’s kind of what I hear when I listen to it and I think that’s what I have loved about the record so much, it’s that some of my most positive moments have been listening to some of the saddest songs. I think there’s moments where you get to some of the most emotional moments on the album and to me they feel quite uplifting. Especially stuff like 'Fine Line', pretty sad song. And then, you know, I wanted that end to kind of be very - it just feels quite optimistic to me, I think. It kind of felt the best way to finish the record. I’m pleased you kind of got that from it, I guess. But I think, when you write sad songs, you can gain a lot from them, sometimes it's just as a simple as them being a good outlet to kind of get something out. It's nice sometimes to kind of wrap a feeling up in a like, a little three and a half minute package, and it doesn’t mean you have to wallow in it, it can be like, ‘Okay’. And then you gain something from it, you get a song from it and you can turn an experience that isn’t necessarily that positive into a positive one and you can learn from it. I think that’s kind of what’s exciting about music.

Just simply processing hard things and it’s almost therapeutic in a way.

Yeah, I feel like it's difficult to be as honest with any person as you can be with an instrument, if you’re just sitting and writing with a guitar or a piano or something. And even if it doesn't end up being the song, just saying something out loud can be nice, to kind of get that out. So I definitely find writing incredibly therapeutic.

It reminds me, sometimes i kind of go to therapy and I feel like all I did was talk and I didn’t hear anything back. And I realise that, that...

Is the point of therapy?

That, that in itself is a beautiful thing, you know? Did it feel different making the first one, the solo one? Like, less pressure?

Yeah, it felt really different. I’d say yeah, I think less pressure, but more just that I put less pressure on myself, I think. I felt like - I mean, first of all it was much longer and it was a lot more frustrating, and I’d say it was probably more difficult in terms of the actual finishing it and everything. But each moment when you get to those things where you’re making something that you really care about, sometimes it’s nice because as soon as you come out the other side of this difficult section, the frustrating section, you’re like, ‘It’s not supposed to be easy.’ It’d scare me a bit if I made an album and I was like, ‘Oh, this is really easy. I’m so happy with everything all of the time, there’s no questions to be asked about anything.’

I wouldn’t trust it.

Right, exactly. So, I’d say the main difference was, I think when I listen back to the first album now and when I think back to making it, I think I worried a lot just about, getting it wrong. When I listen to it, I can hear places where I was trying really hard not to get it wrong and it feels a little like playing it safe a little bit.

What does getting it wrong mean?

I don’t know. I think that’s one of the things that I put very much on myself, because there’s not really a right and a wrong in music and that’s what’s exciting about it, but it’s also really scary. Sometimes, you don’t have that, like ‘Is this right, is this wrong?’, it doesn’t really exist.

Not like science, where, you know there’s an answer to the math question.

Yeah, you’re kind of floating. But I think when I listen to it - and I love the first album - it kind of feels like I was almost bowling with the sides up a little bit. And I feel like, when it came to making this album, I took those bumpers down and it just felt so much more free and joyous. I just had a better time and I was happier experimenting and it felt more about what feels good and what makes me excited to make stuff. There wasn’t really any point until like - I’ve never made a record I’m in like, ‘Okay, what are the singles and what are the songs that people are gonna hear and what are we going to put out first.’ We kind of finish the album and then you go ‘Okay, what comes first, how do you display the album in the best way?’, rather than ‘Okay, we’ve got the single that’s gonna be played and we’ll do a video for this one and now we’ll fill in the gaps and hope that everybody likes it.’ I mean, that’s really nice for me, and I’m lucky that I work with people who allow me to do that. It just makes the process so much more exciting to me but it also means that every song counts.

One thing that was on my mind when I was listening to the record, regarding all this, and of course your past and your history was on my mind while I was listening to it, I was reading about you when I was getting ready to talk to you and I read the Rolling Stone article about you, which was lovely. And one of the things it said was, it quoted this David Bowie thing, you know, ‘Never play to the gallery.’ I tracked down the clip and I watched it last night. And it’s something he says later that really actually stopped with me and I wrote it down here. He said, ‘I think it’s terribly dangerous for an artist to fulfill other people’s expectations.’ How have you found?

I think it’s so true. I wish I could just say that, the whole clip, quote, and pretend it was my own. I think it’s so perfect.

I think you’d get away with it.

I just think that first of all, if you’re gonna make something that you don’t like, if you’re just trying to please people, the worst thing that can happen is, it doesn’t go well and you just regret the fact that you didn’t make what you wanted to make. The best thing that can happen is, it goes really well and part of you probably still regrets not making what you wanted to make. I think there was a part, a little bit at the start of this album where, because the first album wasn’t necessarily a radio record, there was a part of me where I felt a little bit of pressure. I wanted to make a big album, and I wanted to be successful, and I wanted it to work. I think I was trying to do that for a couple of weeks and I just wasn’t really happy with the music I was making. It was like getting close sometimes, but it just felt like I was trying to force it. And it kind of felt like, ‘Oh, yeah, this song’ - there was a couple songs, there was one in particular that was a big turning point to me, because we wrote the song and everyone was really excited about it, it was like, ‘This feels like a really big song.’ And then I came to play it to someone and I was cringing about playing it to someone. And I was like, that’s not how you’re supposed to feel when you’re playing your music to people. And then, my friend, Tyler, who I work with, just said - we were talking about these albums that I wanted to make in the future and what they would sound like and he just said, ‘You just have to make the album that you wanna make right now.’ And that was a big turning point. I ended up making the album I wanted to make when it wasn’t about trying to make what people like. I think, you can make a bad song and you can make a bad album and you can make stuff that people don't like but they'll still believe in you as long as it's authentic. I think the moment that people go, 'You know, I'm kind of done with this, I don't want to support this anymore', is when you're faking it. You can't really blame people for that. If there was an artist that I loved and I went to his show and I felt like the music they were making wasn’t what they wanted to make, it wasn’t them and they didn’t really like it that much themselves, I’d probably stop going. I think that’s fair. I can only speak from personal experience, I can look at songs and be like, I’ve always made my worst music when I’m trying the hardest and when it feels a little bit too easy and it feels safe. It’s just like, ‘Oh yeah, this is what people want.’ And I write it and I just don’t like it, I just usually don’t like it. It’s not about - I don’t mean to be like, ‘Oh, I want to make stuff that is so confusing.’ I just only really know - I think a lot of the time when people are making music or they work in music, they think that everyone who works in music operates on this like, higher level of listening to fans. And sometimes people say, ‘Oh, I don’t know if people are gonna get it, I don’t know if people will understand it.’ And i think, ultimately, everyone who works in music are just fans, I’m a fan of music who gets to make some. I try and make it from that perspective, I try to write music as a fan of music and that’s kind of - I just don’t really know how else to do it, I guess.

I think they’re gonna take me out with a laser if I don’t stop soon but I have one more, if that’s okay.

We can do a couple, yeah.

You’re sure? Okay. It was back to that Bowie quote. One of the other things he said was, ‘Always remember that the reason you started making music was to understand more of yourself.’ What have you understood more of yourself through music?

I’d say this album will be a time of my life that I will look back on as a quite of pivotal moment for me personally, probably forever. I just went through a big moment of self-reflection, partly maybe I didn’t have time to do properly before and kind of accepting a lot of things.

Well, because you were busy, right? Because you are in the band and then you’re out of the band.

Yeah, it’s just a lot of stuff, kind of after each other. And I think, with this one, after touring with the first album, I just felt very accepted by the crowd. I think, you know, when you’re doing shows and stuff as part of the band, even with the shows, people have come to see a band, it never really feels like they’re there for you, because they’re not, they’re there to see a band. So, I think when I went out and started doing shows on my own, I was kind of just amazed that people were coming to see me. That felt like, ‘Oh. I just need to do what I want to do and they wanna see me be myself.’

They’re there for you. They must do something to you.

Yeah, it’s a really amazing connection, it’s like a special thing that you share with the people who come every night. Because, it’s kind of one of those things like, when you actually think about what coming to a show means, and you think about what it means when I go to a show. You get the ticket and you go, and you have to park or you have to take the train, and then you have to go, and then you have to get home. It’s a lot of things, it means a lot for people to kind of take a night out to go to a show. And that’s amazing and the biggest compliment I think someone can pay you is going to a show that you’re playing. You know, ‘cause you think about everyone in the room, and not everybody is stood in the front, and not everybody has the most amazing view, some people are in the back, and they still come. I think that’s a really beautiful thing. And, then, the process of making the album has been so joyous for me and felt very free. I'm lucky to work with people who kind of create that environment for me. To be able to he honest, and vulnerable, and experiment and get things wrong. I just feel like I learned a lot. I think this time, the times when I was happiest it was like, some of the happiest times of my life and the times when I was sadder were some of the lowest times of my life. I think, that’s kind of what the album's all about, it’s that kind of fragility of emotion and how fast it can change. That's why we ended up calling the album ‘Fine Line’. That was just like, a theme through the whole album process. So, yeah. I’m really proud of it.

You should be, it’s lovely. I know we have to go, I feel like you’ve always been able to insert - and I mean this - artfulness into spaces that don’t always welcome it and I’m appreciative of your work on that. Thank you very much.

Thanks for having me.

#this is the whole interview! for anyone who might be interested #interviews: 2020 #harry styles #tom power #it's like a transcript i guess

300 notes · View notes

my-fanfic-library · 4 years

Text

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [21]

Masterlist

A/N: and so the smut begins, and you’ve been oh so very naughty for our beloved vamp ;) also my phone literalt shut down on 60% whilst I wrote this so clearly Claes is much too attractive and tempting for even a phone.

Please do not read this chapter at work, school, the dentist, your local grocery store, in the car or similar locations where screaming may not be appreciated in public. A nightclub may be acceptable but please ensure it is read with a glass of Jack Daniels - your author’s favourite. Thank you.

Warnings: dirty talk, praise kink, size kink if you squint, spanking (minimal), kind of a biting kink, fingering (f receiving), probably a ton of swearing - it’s me.

Oh yeah, and a really jealous Drac

~^*^~

Following Dracula down the hall towards the door of the apartment had dread and excitement coursing your veins. He hadn’t uttered a word to you. When you had gotten out of the car, he denied to even acknowledge your existence at all. Whatever was in store for you in the privacy of that apartment... you shuddered at the thought.

The sound of the door crashing open echoed into the hall and you jumped a little. He had already disappeared inside. Dare you go in? Your wildest imagination would let likely not prepare you for what was going to happen once you stepped in there. You hovered a little down the hall for a few minutes. The door remained open. He was waiting for you.

You shrunk into his jacket, wishing that you hadn’t tried to push him so far. You were cold, but then again, you were quite literally only wearing a jacket. You had to go in. You knew he had time to kill and he would wait for you all day and all night.

Taking a meek step forward, your heart began to race. The suspense was going to kill you (providing Dracula didn’t first). You neared the door, and peeked your head in. Dracula was standing at the far end of the room, looking out of the window with his hands in his pockets. If you were quiet enough, you could most definitely make it to the bathroom and lock yourself in and have a nice, civil conversation with him. You honestly didn’t have an idea on what he would do to you. Part of you hoped it would be what he’d been keeping you waiting for. All those lingering touches, those more-than-chaste kisses, it all had to lead somewhere. Angry sex with your vampire boyfriend? If that was how you were going to go, at least you’d go out in style.

You took your first step inside. You flinched. Dracula didn’t turn, and since your foot had made almost no noise, you suspected that he didn’t hear you. So, you took another step and froze. He made no movement. This carried on for maybe another four steps until-

“Take another step and I will be over there in an instant.”

Oh, his voice... it sent the most pleasurable chill down your spine and you indulged yourself in wanting to be his prey. You wanted him to finally fulfil his many promises of punishing your disobedience. He sounded like he could pounce on you, and boy, did you want him to.

So, you broke out into a sprint. Considering how quickly he had moved through the room the last time he had need for it, he had swept you up before you were anywhere near the bathroom door. He hauled you over his shoulder so that you were forced to look at where you had been, not where you were going. He mumbled something, before a sound resounded. You gasped as a fire lit across your ass. You kicked your legs as if to try and get out of his grasp, however he held onto you tighter and hit you again. You bit your lip, loving the way you still felt his hand even though it was no longer there.

“I suppose someone needs attention?” He grumbled, tossing you onto the bed.

“Drac-“

“Don’t you start with me,” he spoke sharply, eyes burning into you as you pushed yourself up onto your hands and knees to look at him. His jacket was much too big for you and seemed to swallow you up, “this is what you wanted, wasn’t it? You were a brat all afternoon, you naughty thing.”

“I didn’t mean it,” you feigned your innocence, eyes boring into him.

“Don’t you lie to me. You’re in enough trouble as it is.” He neared you, grasping your chin firmly and forcing you to look up at him, “you are absolutely in the world of trouble.” He mused, voice quieting and darkening with every word, “I’ll take my time with you.”

With little force from himself, Dracula pushed you backwards and down into the mattress.

“Stay right there.” He commanded, voice lowering to just a little above a whisper. His eyes darkened as he looked at the way you had sprawled out. God fucking damn that dress - if you could even call it that.

You watched, just a little scared of what he was going to do. His fingers worked at his belt and once it was undone, it was your turn. You had never seen such a dark and intense look in his eyes before. Not even when he had fought with Renfield over you. Oh, god, your stomach flipped when his hands touched the bed.

“Your heart...” he mused, “scared now, kitten?”

You couldn’t respond. Your body would not allow you to respond. You were anticipating his touches. Just what was he going to do to you? He chuckled, knowing full well what your answer was. He was so big, so very tall, towering over you as you lay helpless on the bed, propped up by your elbows, gawking at him in your terror. You were a rabbit, and he was the big, bad wolf.

“Not so loud now, are we?”

He began his descent to you, crawling over you, taking in your scent that mingled with his. Now, you were trapped beneath him. He was so close. He could feel the rhythm of your heart, keeping his hands either side of your head, to make sure you wouldn’t try to worm your way out of this one. He had truly had enough. You were finally going to pay.

“Say something, kitten, what are you thinking?”

Again, you were left without words. He was so close. He was so much bigger than you, trapping you beneath him was no issue, and you knew he’d have his way with you and then some now that you’d finally pushed him over the edge. When he still got no response from you, a few growl fumbled through his chest and he tugged your hair away from your neck, biting down into the mark he had created weeks ago. While he didn’t bite hard enough to draw blood (he didn’t even have his fangs on this occasion), the sensitivity of the area was enough. You cried out, arms coming up to wrap around him and bring him ever closer to you.

“Better.” He growled against your skin, and bit down once more. The way you shuddered against him made the cockiest smirk appear on his lips and he started his way around your neck, mapping out the most sensitive areas and marking you up, so that he wouldn’t forget just where they were. His lips moved a little higher, up to your collarbone and he licked up to your earlobe before tugging with his teeth. You whimpered, gripping onto him for dear life as the constant sparks that were igniting within you drove your head back into the mattress.

“Dear God,” you managed to breathe.

“I can make no claims to that title, but trust me on this, I’m about to steer you as far away from that fantastical purity as I can get you.” He lifted his head to look down at you and your hands slipped down, coming to rest half on his cheeks and half on his neck.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

You pulled his face to your own, colliding your lips. That one second that you felt him, you heard him hum in utter bliss and then you were gone.

This time, it was a brief visit. You suspected Dracula wanted you with him at all times. For just the frozen fraction that you were in the haven, it was hot. So burning hot, and you were with him, tangled up in sangria sheets.

When you came back, you gasped. His large hand cupped the left side of your face, guiding your head up so that he had more access to your neck. He laved his way down with his tongue, loving the way you squirmed under him. Humans were strange. They craved this sort of contact, but once they got it, they wanted to wriggle their away from it as if they couldn’t stand it.

“Be still,” he whispered, “I want this off so I can smell only you.”

And he began to push the jacket down. You moved a little to allow him to strip you of the only real item of clothing you had and the cold hit you as he threw the jacket over his shoulder and away. Goosebumps rose on your skin. Your lips began to work on his neck, fingers moving around to the buttons on his shirt, fumbling every now and then when his hands trailed up and down the expanse of your legs. When his shirt was off, he stopped you from doing anymore damage.

“Get this fucking thing off.” His lips were soon enough back on your neck and he tore open your newest wardrobe addition, making it practically one big hole. He had never sworn before and the way the hard profanity rolled from his tongue had a deep heat fill your stomach. You lifted your hips so that he could pull it away, and accidentally collided with his. You took a sharp breath.

Now you were so close to being exposed to him once more. He drank in the sight of you, so close, chest rising and falling with the gasps that he had caused. He was slowly turning you into a mess as he had promised.

His kisses began to work down, working over the exposed top halves of your breasts, down into the valley, over your stomach, towards your naval. Every kiss left a little patch of saliva and to connect the dots, he swiped his tongue back up. Oh, what he’d give to be able to truly kiss you. Not to send you away into a fantasy, but to keep you with him so that you could kiss him over and over. So that you could feel the passion in his mouth, taste his tongue on yours. He wanted to mark every single part of you as his own. One day, maybe. Until then, he’d simply have to mark every inch of your skin.

“Do I have permission?” He inquired lowly, playing with the strap of your bra.

You could only nod, feeling yourself slip away. He pulled you up into him, your chest nicely flush against his as he so easily worked the garment open. Now he was being slow and precise with his moves. He laid you down, pulling the material away and it ended up in some corner, a similar fate to his jacket and his shirt. He hummed, reacting as though he had never seen you topless before. He hadn’t, not like this.

“Guess I finally got my way- Ah~”

He cut you off, sucking a nipple into his mouth and giving it attention with his tongue. Usually, they weren’t the most sensitive things in the world, your nipples, but holy fucking shit, right now you could come like this. Not wanting your other nipple to feel neglected, his large hand came up to knead your free breast and you arched your back at the sensation of his cool skin against your hot, flushing flesh. He pinched hard, and bit down simultaneously, pulling up and away and grinning down at you.

“Actually, I’m getting my way.”

“Whatever floats your boat.”

He paused for a moment, debating on his next move. In the next moment, he had climbed off of you and moved towards the head of the bed, taking a seat against the headboard. You rolled over onto your stomach, peering up at him.

“Come here, now.”

Thinking better than to disobey him anymore, you crawled your way into his lap and began pressing kisses to his shoulders. His head rolled back. He could never get enough of your touch. Never in your life would he let anyone take you from him. You were his.

His hands moved down your body, thumbs brushing over your nipples and coming to rest firmly on your waist. So easily, with no strength, he twisted you so that your back was pressed against his chest and your legs were over the top of his. You looked up at him.

“I can’t give you everything I’d like to,” he kissed your shoulder, “so I’m afraid this is all I can do for you right now.”

His hands began to trail further down, stopping right at the hem of your panties. You nodded. You had expected him to just tug them down, but he, instead, literally tore the material off. To hell with them.

“Drac!” You shrieked, “they were Fenty!” You whined.

“I don’t have a single clue what that means, but I must assure you that I don’t give a damn. You look much more delightful without them.”

You still rolled your eyes.

And finally, after so long of waiting, of the tension building and bubbling, his fingers worked into your slit. Your head rolled back onto his chest, a moan rippling throughout the room. The pure bliss that shot through your body! It had been so long since anyone had touched you. The coolness of his fingers heightened the way that it felt and you had to do something to stop yourself from climaxing too soon.

Using only one finger, he circled your pearl first, not wanting to waste another second in keeping you waiting. A hot rush swept between your legs and you whined.

“Does that feel good?” You nodded in response, “unfortunate.” He pulled his finger back, causing you to whine in protest.

His hands moved to your thighs and he pulled your legs apart, so that your feet were planted either side of his knees and your legs were bent. His hand moved back to rest so close to where you needed it again.

“I don’t think you deserve it.” He whispered into your ear, “you’ve disobeyed me so much. You’ve made me so mad. So, so angry.” He drew circles on the innermost skin of your thigh, right where if his finger slipped, he’d be where you wanted him most, “I should tie you up and leave you here in such a state. I can feel you dripping onto me. You’d soak the sheets and I’d never even have to touch you again, would I?” His voice vibrated through your body and the utter filth he’d never spoke until today made you feel giddy. He really knew how to tease, didn’t he?

“Please,” you whispered a beg, “please just...”

“Please what?” You could practically hear his smirk.

“Please touch me. Please do anything.”

“Anything? Oh, like this?”

He gave you no warning, he just pushed his finger right into your sopping cunt, loving the way it seemed to suck the length of his finger in, craving more. The deep coolness sparked electricity and you cried out at the feeling. Holy fuck, you’d never been with someone who’s fingers were quite as thick or as long. He was definitley proportionate. The bulge pressing against your back was further proof of that.

“Holy shit.” He whispered.

His finger began working on you, almost all the way out before plunging back in and the feeling was already sending you into a frenzy. His finger never warmed like the other men you’d been with, so it was just so delicious to feel his finger constantly cool against your hot and throbbing core. Wet, sensual sounds filled the room - and just by his finger!

“Hm, you like that, don’t you? Your heart sounds like it’s about to run away.” He mused, “would that scum back at the shopping centre be able to do this to you?”

“God, no,” you breathed, focusing much too hard on the waves of pleasure.

“I didn’t think so.”

He pushed a second finger in, a small burn as he stretched you out. You twisted, making a noise as the pleasure heightened more.

“Good girl, taking my fingers so well.”

Your chest rose and fell. The sensation of two of his fingers was enough. You were so close to the edge and he knew it. His lips cane down on your shoulders, pressing here and there, biting a few times.

“Who else could fuck you with their fingers like this?”

“No one-“ you gasped, unable to concentrate on his words.

“Correct. No one.” His free hand trailed down your body, “so don’t you ever wear that sundress out again.”

“But- I like it-“ you gasped, so, so close.

“I didn’t realise your emotions mattered.” The fingers on his free hand began to draw hard, quick circles on your clit. You were a gonner.

“Holy shit-“ you gasped, tossing your head to expose the bite mark.

You watched his fingers work your core. You loved the way his forearms flexed, and he never seemed bothered by any straining it might have been causing.

“Let’s see how far the female body had progressed.” He pumped his fingers quicker, the friction driving you to the brink. Tears were forming in your eyes. Way too much. His fingers worked your clit so well that waves were beginning to build, “have you learnt to come on command?”

You didn’t know if you could hold off anymore. The pleasure was much too intense and the cord that had been growing in your stomach was ready to break at any second.

“Not yet..” you bit your lip, you squeezed your eyes shut, you tired your hardest, “a little longer,” the sounds of your juices filled the room and your body ignited all of a sudden, a raw hotness overcoming you, “now.”

He bit hard down into the mark on your neck and the pleasure came. You screamed out, body absolutely losing control. You shook with every wave, moans filling the room and causing a proud smirk to appear on Dracula’s face.

“Good girl, so good.”

He helped you ride your orgasm out, not stopping the movement of his fingers until your body was no longer tense but blissed out. He helped you off of him, lying you down at his side and he turned to look at you.

“I wonder how you taste...” he wondered aloud before sucking on the tips of his fingers. He groaned, unable to hold back the look of content on his face, “not as good as your blood, but a close second.”

You scoffed, panting heavily. Your stomach was knotting from the intense orgasm and you could only hope that the pain would stop soon.

“What about you?” You breathed.

“Don’t worry yourself over me. I told you, I can’t give it to you.”

“And I told you, that’s how I want to go.”

“I’m not killing you just so that we can make love.” He scowled at you.

“Make love?” You mocked, “what are you a 12 year old girl?”

“Oh shut it, you.”

You laughed through your pants and pulled him down into your side. One way or another, you were going to make him do that to you again and again and again.

~^taglist^~

@vampiregirl1797 @avalanet @bunnyreese12 @nerdonpluto @teamceleries @grifffins @hitbythunder @winterseoul @mymagicsuitcase @angeli-fucking-cat @benedictethegoddess @bloodhon3yx @nifflersravenclaw @writteninthestars288 @labelladrama @frankcastlesgrunts @angelicdestieldemon @quakerlasss @aliisa-jones @wolverinexmenn @clairedragonessbaker @cryiner @mitsukatsu @piratewhore @your-pixels-are-showing @tardisnesss @ladydovahkiin180 @catwomom @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @th3rah @viper-queen @mephdcosplay @greghouse7 @faeprinces @kokoro-no-yami @trishaferdream @therealmoni @crazytxgradstudent @sansthelonelypunster @crowley-needs-a-hug @girlonfireice @wasntpriscilla @ivanna6026

381 notes · View notes

staruplatinum · 4 years

Text

Wicked Game, part II

Everyone wanted a sequel to wicked game, the story I wrote for @moody-bloosh in which Prosciutto cheats on the reader. That story was all angst and this one is all smut.

so, enjoy 3,240 words of the reader having revenge sex with Risotto, filming it and sending the video to prosciutto ;-)

warnings: angst, slow burn, smut, creampie, gaping, dirty talk, rough sex, squirting

The hardest part was trying to survive the next few weeks. Only a week had passed, but in that time, your (now)ex-fiancee had already packed up his things and left to go live with Formaggio. Pesci had come by to apologize, and also ask for reassurance.

“I’m still your friend, right!?”

“Yes, Pesci.”

You felt like your whole world was falling apart, and at an extremely fast rate. The sharp pains in your chest, hyperventilating, the tears - mixed with being completely numb - it almost felt like too much to bear. It was almost as if someone had told you Prosciutto was dead - funny enough, you wished he was after putting you through this. 5 years of dating and 6 months of being engaged lead to this. He threw it all away, and you could never forgive him.

As you walked back to your apartment one night, you slammed the door shut and made sure to lock it behind you.

Nighttime was the hardest. The darkness always made you contemplate everything, and you hated it. For what felt like the millionth time this week, your eyes started watering once again.

How could he do this to me? I thought he loved me..

Your thoughts were interrupted, however, when you heard a dreaded knock at the door. Instantly, your body froze. You hesitated a moment, before checking through the eye-hole to see who it was. To your surprise, it was your capo: Risotto Nero. He hadn’t visited you yet since the rest of the gang had “found out”.

You sucked in a deep breath as you undid the chain lock from the door and let him in slowly.

What an odd coincidence.

“Risotto I-” you paused, sniffling and using the sleeves of your house coat to rub the dripping mascara from your eyes. “What brings you here at this hour?” You tried to hide the fact that you had been crying.

He shut the door behind himself quietly and spoke.

“I was using metallica to hide from the public, and I saw you crying on the way home.” He said bluntly.

“Oh.”

“I followed you back here, to make sure you got in safe. But I assumed something may have happened. I wanted to check in with you to make sure Prosciutto was with you.” your Capo added.

You let out a big sigh and soft chuckle of sarcasm.

“Yeah? Well, he won’t be here with me. Not ever.”

You wiped under your eyes, trying to hide the fact that you had been crying - though it was painfully obvious.

Confused, Risotto slightly cocked his eyebrow, unsure of what you meant. Then you realized that he didn’t know what had happened..you smiled, and gently patted his arm.

“He cheated on me, Ris. and from what I found out, this wasn’t the first time either..” You began to say, feeling your tears start to water in your eyes. You looked down, trying to conceal it. “He’s been cheating on me for months. He just wants me as a housewife, meanwhile he fucks other whores every weekend. I keep thinking over and over - is it me? Am I ugly? Am I bad at sex?.. I guess I really was never enough for him.” And just like that, your tears spilt once again. So much for hiding your tears.

Risotto took off his shoes, hat, and coat before he pulled you in for a hug. Most people would frown upon this - you hugging your Capo, but you had known him long before Prosciutto, and he had loved you long before that.

You spent a few moments of silence in his arms, crying away your pain. It was weird, but Risotto’s hugs always felt like heaven. They were so fulfilling and calm, it truly felt like nothing bad had happened to you! Or maybe that was the serotonin talking…

After a few moments, you pulled away. “Im sorry, I-I don’t mean to cry on you I’m just so-”

“Shh.” Risotto said, pressing a finger to your lips to silence you. “You don’t have to explain, y/n. If Prosciutto wasn’t one of my most valued men, I would kill him for you. You know that.”

Small hiccups left your mouth as you nodded, acknowledging his soft - but deadly - words as he cupped your cheeks, gently caressing them with his thumbs.

“How about I make us both some tea and we talk about it, Bella.”

You smiled through your tears, leaning into his large palm.

“I would love that.”

Risotto was familiar with your kitchen. He came here many times for meetings with you and Prosciutto. Some occasions, it was almost like a second home to him. After preparing you both a hot cup of chamomile tea, he brought it over to the coffee table and sat with you. Despite your efforts to not stare him down, it was nearly impossible to do considering his massive chest, tattooed biceps and toned torso were right next to you.

Risotto smirked.

“See something you like?”

You blushed at his words.

“Maybe.”

It was a weird and awkward silence between you both. On one hand - you were beyond livid with your ex-fiancee, and you wanted nothing more than to get revenge on him. But at the same time, being this close to Risotto and having him be there for you, listening to you - it was a whole other soft feeling in your body that you couldn’t describe. Prosciutto never listened to you.

“I’m sorry he cheated on you, Tesoro. You didn’t deserve that.” Your Capo said, breaking the silence and taking a drink of the tea.

“I don’t know, Risotto. I feel like nobody will ever love me.”

Your words hurt risotto to hear. He had known you for so long. You were beautiful, and the fact that Prosciutto made you feel anything lower than that really aggravated him. And knowing Risotto, nothing ever really made him upset - he is usually kept his cool.

“That’s not true.”

Risotto grabbed you gently and pulled you in for a hug, inhaling the scent of your soft hair as you laid on his chest, snuggling into his warmth. His large hand caressed your back, gently rubbing you in a comforting manner. Being with him like this caused shivers to go down your spine.He always knew what to say, and how to make you feel so good.

Then it hit you.

“Can you cuddle me in my bed, Capo?” You asked teasingly, though there was a hint of innocence in your voice. “What the hell are you doing?!” you thought to yourself while smirking. he was being so tempting. It was so perfect, laying on him like this. But at the same time, you genuinely wanted to cuddle with him. After not sleeping right for over a week, it would have been so comforting to fall asleep in his warm, safe arms. But deep down, both you and Risotto knew where this was going.

Placing your teacups down (on the coasters that Prosciutto always insisted you use-) you grabbed Risottos hand gently and guided him to your bedroom.

A perk to living with Prosciutto was that the house was always clean, and your bedroom was no exception. It was probably one of the only things you admire about your ex-fiance, the fact that he was so clean. Your entire apartment was extremely minimalistic - something that instantly caught Risotto’s attention every time he had come to visit in the past. But now, with Prosciutto’s things gone, it had a different kind of emptiness to it. One that Risotto wanted to fill, and make a “home” out of.

“Do you have a camera, tesorina?” he asked, keeping a straight face, while he tried to focus on his newfound idea.

“Yeah, why?”

“Go get it for me.”

You nodded, following his orders and pulling the Camera out from the box in the closet.

“I don’t understand why you need the camera - “

“Well, I can’t kill Prosciutto - no matter how badly I want to- because he is like family to me, and he’s an amazing member of our squad. “

You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes. He was supposed to cuddle you and comfort you, not tell you how great your CHEATING ex fiance was. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing!

“But I have a better way to get back at him.” Risotto said, looking over to you and slowly undoing his belt. Then, you understood. Your snarky attitude went away and you smiled.

“Oh yeah? What’s the plan then… Capo”

Risotto used his hand to pull you by the chin, grinning down at you. “How about your Capo fucks your tight little pussy, records it, and sends the video to your ‘ex-beloved’”

His dark eyes stared down at your smaller form, trying to see what kind of reaction he’d get from this. Risotto wasn’t the type to do something if you didn’t want to. But what other idea could have helped you? You were all alone, not eating properly, not sleeping properly, meanwhile Prosciutto was off living what seemed to be a “good” life with his new hooker every night. Plus, Pesci so kindly took him in. (more like he had to because Prosciutto gu8ilt tripped him into it.)

The look on your face said it all. It was good. It was too good. This was the safest and easiest way to get back at Prosciutto. You bit your lip in anticipation. It was so wrong - to sleep with your capo. But you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t want him to destroy you. And, you really wanted to get back at Prosciutto.

You smirked, passing him the camera and tripod, watching him set it up “perfectly” on the Vanity, which was right across from your queen sized bed. Risotto clicked the red button on the camera and before you knew it, you were both being filmed.

“Take off your clothes. Now,”

That wasn't a question, it was an order. And boy, were you eager to obey.

As you tossed your clothes on the floor, you remained in just your lace panties and bra.

“All of your clothes.”Risotto said, continuing to pull down his pants, leaving himself in his black boxers. You obeyed, unhooking your bra to expose your tits into the open. Your nipples instantly hardened from the cold air in the room. Your underwear came next, exposing your pussy and plump ass to your Capo. He smirked as You got down on your knees and looked up at him, fingers gently grazing across the massive bulge in his boxers.

“So? Are you going to suck my cock or are you just going to sit there and look pretty?” Risotto asked, threading his fingers through your hair and scalp.

Risotto wasn’t one for much dirty talk. You knew your capo as the stoic, intimidating man he was. And normally, he would never break that facade. However, finally having you like this at his mercy… it triggered something inside of him. He wanted to love you, yes. But he also wanted to wreck you and make sure that the camera got every moment of it. What better way to do that then to dirty talk you?

You nodded, biting your lip and looking at the camera - Shaking Risotto out of his thoughts once again.

“Of course, Signore.”

Prosciutto used to beg you to call him that, so saying it directly to the camera was your subtle way to say : ‘Fuck You’, and proceed with the video.

Risotto pulled out his big cock, completely hard and standing erect in the open. Your eyes lit up. He was so huge, how were you supposed to take all of him?

“What’s wrong, Tesorina? Too big for you?”

You chuckled softly as he began to jerk himself off slowly.

“Mhm. I don’t know how this will fit in my mouth, let alone my pussy .” You said, grabbing his shaft lightly with your fingers. He huffed at your statement, more or less from the anticipation of you touching him like this. As you stroked it a few times, you looked to the camera once again. “This is definitely an upgrade. Hah. and I thought 7 inches was a lot.”

Ouch.

You both soon got over the awkwardness and shortly after you both were horny enough to do some regrettable things. You opened your mouth, having risotto place the head of his cock on your tongue, tapping it a few times before you eagerly took the head in. Your tongue swirled around it, trying your best to use your saliva to take more of him in, though, with your small mouth you knew that would be a challenge.

Risottos hand gripped your hair tighter, urging you to take more than just the tip inside of your warm mouth, after all, you were going to want to make sure that both of you were properly ‘lubed’ up.

“That’s good, cara” Risotto said, encouraging you to go deeper. You complied, taking in two more inches, your mouth salivating and stretching around his massive girth. Just like that, he was already hitting the back of your throat.

You giggled, looking up at him and batting your lashes as you pulled back a little - only to shove your face forward even more, taking half of his 10 inches in your mouth and down your throat.

“Fuck…”

Risotto grunted. He was not the type of man to fall so easily. He wasn’t the type of man to give in, or even make many noises during sex. But you… you were breaking him and the two of you just barely started.

Risotto pulled his cock away from you abruptly, a trail of saliva connecting the top of his cock to your bottom lip, glistening in the low lamp light.

“Get on the bed.” Risotto said, breathing heavily.

“You don’t have to ask twice.” You winked.

As you got up on the bed, you figured it would be best to just get in doggy style position directly. This seemed to impress Risotto, and he smiled at you. A dark smile - but still a smile nonetheless.

Risotto angled your ass so that it was facing the camera - exposing your asshole and slick pussy. He traced one of his calloused fingers along your slit, before abruptly shoving it inside. You moaned out in pleasure, catching his attention.

“That’s just a finger,” He stated.

You laughed, hiding your face in the pillow from embarrassment.

“I know…” You added, too shy to look at him.

He pulled your hair, forcing your head back as he added two more fingers inside of you, curling them downwards so he could hit your g-spot.

“Oh fuck…” you breathed, sudenly overcome by the sensation of being at his mercy.

“Keep making noise tesoro, I want to hear you scream for me.”

All you could do was nod and moan, and before you knew it - your orgasm was approaching.

“Ris- I-Im cumming!!” you shouted. Risotto chuckled darkly and pulled out at the last second, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock.

His cock stretched your cunt out harshly, despite all the prep you had. Though you were disappointed about being denied your orgasm, you moaned into the pillow below you. You desperately tried to arch your back up so the camera got a good angle of risotto pressing a good portion of his 10inches inside you. It took you a few minutes to get used to his length, but risotto was a patient man. In fact, he waited almost 6 years to make you his, surely this would be an easy task.

Risotto leaned down and whispered in your ear.

“Take it all, Tesoro. We have a point to prove.”

His words only turned you on further, and you moaned out his name. He smiled and leaned back up, making sure to prove a point.

Risotto’s large hand came down on your ass, striking it hard.

“Ugh- YOURE so - fucking tight.”

“Mmn. Only for you Signore”

“That’s right. This cunt belongs to me now.”

With the head of his large cock hitting your cervix with every thrust, you were sure you’d be bruised in the morning.

“Do you like when your capo fucks you?”

He was being mean, asking you things when you could barely form coherent sentences.

He slapped your ass again.

“I asked you a question, Puttana.”

You swallowed your spit and nodded.

“Y-yes! Yes Signore. I love when you fuck me. No one can compare!”

That was just what Risotto needed to hear from you, and without waiting any further, he commanded you to cum for him.

“Cum for me tesorina, cum all over your Capo’s cock you filthy whore.”

And you did, your whole body shook, and you fell forward, moaning his name over and over as you squirt your juices all over the sheets, and all over your Capo.

Risotto followed soon after, Pressing his cock as deep as he could before cumming inside, shooting his load right at your cervix.

After Risotto pulled out, he forced you to stay with your ass up in the air. He moved around so that his cock was by your head, and his hands were on your ass once again. You didn’t know what he was doing, but it became very apparent when he hooked two fingers (from each hand) inside your cunt. He spread you open wide, chuckling darkly as he watched your pussy gape, and watched his cum start to ooze out of you.

“Look at you, Tesoro. You can’t even keep my load inside of you…”

You were too spent to even say anything but moan.

“Did I really stretch you out that much?”

That question was rhetorical. Though you couldn’t see what you looked like down there yourself, you could feel it. Risotto had a big girth to him, 6inches, to be exact, and as soon as he pulled out of you - slumped over and exhausted, you felt so empty. The camera was picking up everything as well, and when prosciutto saw this tape you were sure he’d be ruined by it.

Risotto got up from the bed and grabbed the camera from the tripod, bringing it back over to you. He focused the lens on your cunt, which was still gaping and slowly dripping out his seed. He held your ass check with his hand, admiring his work, before zooming in.

“Do you like having my load inside of you?”

“Mnm yes capo! You know how to fill me right up. ~” you purred.

“Good, because you’re mine now” he hissed, slapping your ass once more and turning the camera off.

A few days later, Prosciutto got a tape in the mail. He watched it, with the help of melone (he was too suspicious to ever watch a video alone) and what he saw.. Shattered him.

Melone found it interesting, but prosciutto ushered him out, cussing a slew of words in Italian.

He needed… a moment. It seemed like smoking 10 packs of cigarettes wouldn't even be able to help him, and the worst part was - he couldn’t even kill risotto. He was his superior..

Prosciutto went to the same bar he always did that night, and picked up another hooker. As he fucked her, he couldn’t help but think of you, and everything he lost because of his selfishness.

It really was over.

#prosciutto #prosciutto x reader #risotto nero #risotto nero x reader #jaehyun angst #smut #my writing #wicked game #not sfw ish??

586 notes · View notes

pixelchaos00 · 4 years

Text

Tradoshan Squad

Log: 1, Day: 1

The Base

(Author's Note: Thanks to @clonewarsreturns for helping me develop my characters and beta reading the story. My first language isn't English so I apologise for any kind of mistakes.)

„Get set and don’t let your guard down. This is going to be a high qualified mission, which is why General Unduli and I have chosen you here. This is more important than any mission before and needs to be perfectly executed. We mustn’t make any mistakes. This whole battle is sitting on our shoulders to win. So, don’t lag behind. Understood?”

Commander Gree’s words were loud and clear. The booming voices of identical men rang through the ship’s hull, each of them ready to fulfil their role. The hum of the bomber ship was an already familiar background noise. The Clones in 41st Battalion’s green stood ready to be deployed. Their mission wasn’t an easy one, since their input in the battle would turn the tides around in favour of the Republic’s grand army if they succeeded. They were supposed to land behind enemy lines and slowly work their way to the centre. The main base of the CIS was their mission’s objective. It had been a pain in the ass for the Republic since the beginning, providing the droids with never ending backup and maintenance. The Clone army suffered great losses, troops dying in major numbers with only little support and even less supplies. Commander Gree was leading the assault together with some of his best men, which he chose himself. Quiet whispers ensured after the commander’s speech, giving the troops one last time to talk before the true battle began.

“I’ve always wanted to blow one of those clanker facilities up. The five-o-first always make it look so easy.”

Some chuckles escaped the other men that were checking their gear.

“Not everything can be solved with explosions”, groaned one of them.

“Then you have never met Bootleg.”

“I have met Bootleg and I regret it.”

More chuckles.

“Aw, come on Checkpoint, I’m not that bad.”

“No, you are worse. Do you know how many times I had to patch you up in the medical bay because of your shenanigans?”

“That would be eleven times only last month and those were all unrelated to battles”, announced another Clone, squishing his locks under his helmet.

“Actually, Dropkick, it was twelve times but since he literally came half an hour later in again after leaving the medical bay, they wrote it down as eleven.”, corrected another Clone who was checking his backpack.

“As always, you have my back, Backup.”

“To be fair,” said Bootleg, crossing his arms. “My methods are working.”

“I do remember when you used an explosion to fight another explosion and it worked!”

This made the others in the transporter laugh but it was silenced by the pilot’s announcement. They would soon land and arrive at their destination. Lips were pressed into thin lines and helmets got strapped on. It was time.

The ship touched down on the soft surface, avoiding the large plants and fungi that took in most of the view. Not only were the turquoise and orange flowers taking up most of the space of the planet but they also blocked many free areas. Landing was a whole lot harder. Still, the skilled pilot of the 41st wasn’t so easily shaken. The ship doors slid open, allowing the troops to peek at the planet’s fauna, while the pilot’s eyes were scanning the ground for an open space. Gree scrunched his nose at the planet they were supposed to be stationed on. While he enjoyed learning about new planets and its life, he had a distaste for this particular jungle planet. It took too many men already, leaving the troops weak and open for attacks. The wildlife here was so different compared to anywhere else they had been. It was merciless. Gree read the reports about the beasts roaming through the thick leaves. Their terrifying screeches could be heard echoing in the night and on bad days in the day near their camps. Razor sharp teeth and equally dangerous blades, that were supposed to be the creature’s spindly legs, were haunting the dreams of many brothers. Acklays. Acklays and many other creatures called the bushes and thicket their home.

Gree felt the transporter land. The doors in front of him glided open, revealing the planet’s surface. The troops jumped off the ship and their feet hit the muddy jungle ground. The pilot closed the doors again and wished them all good luck before taking off into the air again. They needed to keep the ships out of the enemies’ radar. Gree gave the men a last salute. He turned to his team and called for attention. The troops were quickly divided up into their separate squads and positions.

“Alright, men! This is it. You know the goal of this mission is to blow up the enemy’s main base. If we don’t succeed, then nobody will and this fight will be over for all of us. Is that clear?”

The troops saluted, agreeing in unison. “Sir, yessir!”

Gree nodded, holding up a holomap of their target. The base was easy to spot and their positions were marked with green dots.

“As you can clearly see, the base lies straight ahead of us. Team Alpha will attack from the south side and sneak inside to turn off the alarm. Team Beta enters the base through the westside. One of the reactors will be located there. Team Gamma, you will enter the base through the east side.”

“Contact each other when you have arrived at your location. Set the detonators and leave this place. You only have a small time frame to leave this place before the bombs are ignited and the whole place blows up.”

“In the meantime, Team Alpha will take care of all the alarm and camera footage, giving you a free pass through the base. I’ll be joining Team Alpha for this mission and support them. The other teams will work on their own.”

“Contact each other as little as possible so they won’t pick up our signals. And the most important information for this mission; Do not, at any circumstances, get their attention. Do not engage in any firefight unless absolutely necessary.”

The Clones looked at each other and nodded, understanding the importance of the mission. They saluted Commander Gree before separating into their three distinct teams. Alpha was already ahead together with Gree. Beta was equally ready, heading straight for the jungle in the west side, led by their squad leader Corry. Checkup was bringing Gamma in position in the east.

Carefully they warded through the dirt and mud that kept sticking to their shin amor. The 41st color scheme helped them blend in with their environment and kept them hidden from unwelcome eyes. Despite the cover and camouflage, they had to be careful. Their white was still sticking out and the native creatures of this planet won’t fall for their trick. Not to mention the fungi and plants or diseases that couldn’t be fooled by their training and attacked on a different basis. For now, staying low and moving carefully was their best way to reach the base.

Checkpoint glanced back at his team only to witness Clickbait, in time, pushing a huge leaf out of his way and being smacked right back in the face with it. Backup stifled his snickering, holding his hand in front of his helmet, where his mouth was supposed to be. Clickbait huffed at the plant, ducking under it.

“I would rather be in the air.” mumbled Clickbait. It wasn’t that he had no training on the ground or that he disliked it, he just felt better in the air and away from all the ground obstacles.

Bootleg kept an eye out for patrols, blaster close against his chest. “Missing your jetpack already, huh?”

“’Course! I wanna fly”

“Well, right now you were called for this mission “, reminded Dropkick his brother, nudging Clickbait’s side. “Because we are supposed to be the top men who could -positively win- this mission.”

“Very funny, Drop. I know that. I just really want to activate my jetpack and go aloft, above all the fauna and away from the mud.”

Backup, who was a bit smaller than the others joined the conversation. “I understand that you would rather do something else. I miss the workshop, too but you need to get your head out of the clouds while we are still on the mission.”

“Betrayed by my own brother!”, gasped Clickbait. He looped his arm around Backup's shoulders and pulled him into a headlock. The support trooper started to whine, struggling under his brother’s grip.

“No, no head noogies!”, protested Backup, squirming around to try and pull his helmeted-head free.

“Quit fooling around and shut it, Click.”, warned Checkpoint in a low voice, reminding them that they were still on a mission.

“Yeah, ‘Bait. Quit fooling around”, repeated Dropkick in a mocking tone. The others snickered but settled back into their positions again.

Sometimes Checkup wondered if he was working with cadets. They were good at what they were doing but they weren’t exactly acting like it. The leader of the Gamma squad shook his head in defeat, quietly accepting of the team’s incompetence. Not that he was any different. His plans weren’t any less crazy or daring. He himself has a good count of stupid stunts he pulled off and survived, but at least he was more subtle about it. Or so he thought.

That’s when the beige color scheme of the droid base came into view. It’s bulky and edgy form sticking out between the natural fauna of twisting plants and colorful flowers that reached up toward the sky to get a glimpse of more sunlight than it’s competing greens.

Just as planned, Team Alpha was doing it’s job to turn off the alarm while Team Beta and Gamma went their separate ways to infiltrate the base from the opposite side.

Checkpoint peered out of his cover, looking both ways before rolling out into the open. Confirming one last time that his team would be safe to follow he gave them the ‘ok’. Soon enough Dropkick, Bootleg, Clickbait and Backup emerged from their positions. They followed their squad leader to the beige wall and settled down against it. By now Team Alpha should have disabled the alarm and cameras, making it easy for the rest to enter. Checkpoint moved up to a small panel in the wall and removed it. Soon the whole squad had squeezed itself into the small vent, snaking their way into the facility.

Checkpoint watched the droid patrol walk past them through the vent grid. Waiting for the right moment he signalled his team to get ready with a short hand gesture. The droids passed them and Checkpoint lifted the cover up to slide out of their hiding and into the hall. Soon four more troops followed him, sticking close to the wall. Backup reached into his backpack and pulled out a small device, similar to a holopad. He turned it on and a small dot started to light up in the upper right corner.

“This way”, pointed Backup. “The reactor is on our right side and should be easily accessible.”

The others nodded, letting Backup, their youngest batch mate, take the lead. He would know where to go with his fancy little devices. He would always tinker around on new things, show them their updated new weapons with greater firepower and attached mechanics. Not that they always know what they are for but they were never dismissive of his ideas. Backup was just their little brain when it came to weapons and electronics. He would sit all sleep-cycle long in the workshop, inventing tons of new gadgets. The Kaminoans never truly understood his potential, probably because of his mutation. They dismissed whatever he found out. It was a surprise for all of them that Backup was allowed to go with them in one team. His brother’s weren’t bothered by his blonde roots or heterochromia.

Backup followed the instructions of his datapad and walked straight ahead in the hall. He knew where to go but his attention was mainly focused on the screen in his hands. That’s when suddenly a hand gripped his arm and pulled him to the side, inside another room. Surprised, he looked up and met eye to eye with another brother, Clickbait. Backup tilted his head in confusion but Clickbait held a finger in front of his helmet. Staying quiet he could finally hear it. Steps. Heavy metal feet walking in sync down the hallway they just were in. That was a close call if it weren’t for Clickbait’s hyperawareness.

He had many qualities being a jet trooper. One of them was his awareness of his surroundings at all times. It came in handy whenever he was flying or on stealth missions like this one. He would hear or see things before others. It gives the Clones an advantage over their enemy, however Clickbait’s sensitivity to sound, touch and sight also make him vulnerable. His helmet has been modified by Backup. It filters out alarm sirens; Instead of the ear-piercing blaring, there would be a specific beeping, which he would recognize. His visor was darker than others, absorbing bright light to shield his eyes. Things like this help Clickbait to stay focused and perform his tasks just as well as others, however some things can’t be filtered out. He still gets distracted in briefings because something caught his eyes or he heard a particular strange sound. Usually a brother would update him individually on the plans for the mission. That way Clickbait would always be up to date.

Team Gamma left the room after the area was clear. Clickbait confirmed there were no more patrols outside. Rounding a corner, they could see the hall had changed from a narrow way to a much larger space, indicating they were in the main hall. There was a door at the end of the hall and a smaller path that led up on the right side. There were two rooms on the left and in the middle of the hall was a corridor leading to the right. There, this is where the reactor is supposed to be.

“The reactor room is around this corner”, explained Backup. “After entering we will contact team Alpha and Beta to inform them of our progress. Bootleg will attach the detonators and we will book it from here in no time.”

“Sounds good to me. I can’t wait to blow this damn thing up already.”

“Of course, you would say that, Bootleg. Let’s just get this over with and meet back with the other teams.”

Dropkick had a point. They headed for the door and with Backup by their side the door slid open in no time. In front of them opened up a huge, purple, illuminated room. Their target was in the middle, surrounded by empty consoles. No droids just as expected.

Checkpoint pulled his comm. link out and contacted the other two team leaders. Gree immediately picked up with Corry soon following.

“Team Alpha here. What’s your status?”

“Checkpoint from Team Gamma speaks. We infiltrated the base and am standing in front of the target. Asking for permission to attach detonators.”

“Team Beta is almost ready. We are picking the lock to the reactor room at this moment. We soon should be through.”

“Copy that. We will wait for Team Beta.”

Corry looked at his team as they tried to hack the door open. His team was good at what they did but this was a battle between time and sync. They had to leave the base all together so they could blow up the reactors at the same time. It would be futile if one team didn’t make it out in time. Sticking to the plan's time limit was important. That’s when the door hissed open and revealed the same empty room.

“Team Beta is set and ready to go.” explained Corry, keeping a lookout for droids.

Gree gave the others the a-ok and Team Gamma went straight to work.

“Finally!” gasped Bootleg, setting the timer. “I can’t wait to see the kids in action. It will be spectacular for sure.”

Dropkick rolled his eyes in amusement, enjoying the antics of his brothers. Bootleg always had an interest and knack for bombs and other explosives. While he would usually disable them for the Republic, he would rather like to build his own kids. He tried his hands on all kinds of explosions from small droid poppers to heavy artillery. The thrill with bombs always kept him interested and he would try new ways to disable or build new explosions. It got so far that Kaminoans perked up and listened in on his idea. That’s how they managed to make their droid poppers more powerful, giving them a bigger radius. Bootleg was still proud of that achievement. That’s probably why the Kaminoans aren’t as nosy about his almost daily medbay visits. He can’t stop trying out new things or test reckless ideas, which result in many absurd injuries. It’s said that the medics keep an extra file about his record. Checkpoint never agrees or disagrees about the theories, leading to some wild assumptions.

Bootleg set the timer for the detonator and gave his brothers a thumbs up. They were done and ready to leave this dump. The team gathered their belongings and headed for the door. It slid open with a loud hiss, a blaster barrel greeting the clones. Kriff! The new patrol was here and they weren’t exactly happy to see the uninvited guests.

“Clones!”, yelled one of the robotic voices in shock. “Blast ‘em!”, commanded another one, pointing his three fingered hand at the clones. Sithspit, Gree told them not to engage in a fire fight and leave immediately after the detonators were set because of the time limit.

A blaster clatter on the durasteel floor, pulling everyone’s attention to it. All eyes fell on Dropkick’s abandoned weapon. Another loud thud was heard and this time the droid's head was clean cut off. It met its fate fizzling and sparking. Confused by the unusual kill the droids stepped back in fear.

“What happened?”

“How can this be? B1-2222 suddenly went offline.”

That’s when another droid went down, a Clone without a blaster or blade standing above its body. That was Dropkick’s speciality; Hand to hand combat with a special liking for dropkicks. He always liked to watch the instructors show them new movements that he could use, memorizing the best ways to defeat specific kinds of opponents. B1 Droids were simplier to defeat than the heavily armoured super battle droids or sneaky and flexible commando droids. Magma Guards were a real challenge but not undefeatable with the right footwork, training and knowledge. Still, he would always prefer to take his opponents out with a dropkick. They were his favourite way to fight, leading to Dropkick abandoning his blaster more than once in favour of his hands and legs.

He threw one of the B1 droids over his shoulder, crushing another one’s neck in the same movement. He took the arm of a nearby standing witness and pulled him into the mess, switching places. Dropkick beheaded his opponent with a kick higher than most people’s standards and ended the fight with a dropkick to the chest. In just a hot second he took down a patrol of five droids.

“Let’s move it!” Dropkick was right. Backup tossed his brother his gun and team Gamma was on their way back again. The bomb would go off soon, taking this whole facility with it and turning the tables for the better for the Republic. Checkpoint glanced back while leading his men back out and grunted.

“Dropkick, you really overdid it this time.”

The clone shrugged mid run, believing he did a good job at destroying those droids. “It did the job, didn’t it? Commander Gree told us not to use our weapons unless absolutely necessary. I had everything under control.”

The medic rolled his eyes, looking down at Dropkick’s exposed right leg. “You lost your leg armor with that last kick!”

Dropkick could only shrug. “This won’t bite me in the butt later on.”

Checkpoint could only shake his head at his brother and kept running. If they were lucky, they would not only survive that mission but get back without a scratch. Hopefully the other teams had as much luck as them.

They dashed down the last corridor, rounding the corner and jumping each inside the vent. Crawling back outside, they each let out a whoop of excitement! Checkpoint took his comm. link to contact the others about their success but could only reach Corry’s team.

“We did it, we are done!”, reported the medic in an excited voice that indicated a mission with no casualties. Corry smiled ear to ear, looking back at his own full team, knowing all his men made it out as well.

“Congrats! Same for us, vod!”

“Thanks.” Checkpoint felt his heart race looking at the fauna of Felucia. A second later the picture turned blurry and the cold blackness welcomed Checkpoint’s consciousness as it slipped out of his grasp.

That’s when Team Alpha joined the conversation. Lense took the role of talking because Commander Gree was busy counting the seconds for the detonators.

“This is Team Alpha. We made it out in one piece with no casualties and minor injuries.”

Lense could hear the brothers from the other teams excitedly cheer for the successful mission, letting him instantly know that they were in the same good mood as the team he was in. He looked back at the base as the detonators went off. The ground was shaking and bird-like creatures looked for safety in the air. The facility itself was swallowed in the explosion’s blast, leaving nothing but rubble and droid parts back. Lense and Gree shared a meaningful look, knowing their mission was done. Without further ado the teams went their separate paths back to meet up at the splitting point. Team Beta arrived first with Corry smiling and happily chatting away at his brothers. Soon after them Team Alpha followed. Gree went up to Corry and affectionately patted his shoulder in good spirit, praising him and his team. That was until he noticed something crucial.

Team Gamma was missing.

Gree quirked an eyebrow at Corry and his team, looking back at his own. “Have any of you seen Team Gamma? They should be here already.” Corry only shrugged, taking a look around and noting that their third party did not come back to the meeting point. Did they goof around and ended up coming later?

Commander Gree told Lense to contact them just to be clear. The trooper nodded, immediately getting to work. Corry tilted his head in confusion. The other troops ceased their chatter at the sudden shift in the mood, looking around them. After a few more clicks Gree started to pace impatiently in a circle.

“Team Gamma, come in. Team Gamma.”

Commander Gree spun on his heel to face Lense, who desperately tried to contact the obviously missing team.

“What are they doing? We are supposed to meet here. Their detonator went off just like it should have. What is taking them so long?”, asked Gree himself more than the others. Team Gamma wasn’t the kind of team to just mysteriously cut all comms. Not that any team would do that since it would affect the other brothers in a negative way.

“Were they still inside the base when everything exploded?”, asked Lense, hoping for a response.

“No, can’t be. We had contact right before everything blew up.”, explained Corry in a thoughtful tone.

“That’s it I’m going to look for those slackers myself.”

“But sir, they aren’t picking up- “

“What do you mean they aren’t picking up? Call each of them. At least one has to hear their comm. link!”, commanded Gree anxiously.

“No, sir. What I meant is, that they aren’t picking up, there is only static; In fact, I can’t even locate their comm. links.”

“What?” breathed Gree in disbelief.

“We are doing our best, sir but it seems they have…” The trooper painfully paused. “vanished.”

Gree’s eyes widened as the truth finally hit him. Something bad happened.

38 notes · View notes

fluffydragon22 · 3 years

Text

2.12 : On a Long, Lonely Night

"How was the date?" The observer asked me on the next day.

"Phew it went pretty well." I answered.

"Awesome, glad to hear that!" He said.

"Tell me, will things stay this way for a long time ahead?" I asked him curiously.

The observer just stared at me for a long time, probably 10 minutes or so. As i felt uncomfortable, i asked him back.

"Hey you lost or something?"

"No, no, sorry, i was just trying to find the right words to answer your question." He answered, and turned to look at the window.

"So, Mr. Observer, have you got the right answer?" I asked him.

"Well, one sure thing is, everything will change, don't you agree?" He began answering my question.

"Well absolutely, i agree with it. But is it gonna be good or bad?" I asked him back.

"You have to find out about it by yourself." He answered, then gave me a smile.

"Well i shoulda know that you would give this answer." I said with a sigh.

"Don't worry, you will find out about it even if i don't tell you." He tried to cheer me up.

"Yeah, i suppose." I added.

I went for some dates with Lily throughout the next 4 weeks before i went back to college. It was difficult of course when i had to say goodbye to her. I supposed that she also felt the same. But as she said, that was the risk we had to face since the beginning.

"I'm gonna miss you, please let me know when you leave your home tomorrow." Lily said as i approached the last intersection before arriving to her house.

"Of course, i will text you tomorrow the moment i step outside my front door." I said as i held her hand.

"Promise?" She said, while holding my hand firmly. I could feel the warmth of her skin in the palm of my hand.

"I promise you." I answered as we made a pinky promise, then i stopped the car right on the driveway.

She stepped out of the car and stopped before she entered her front door. Then she sprinted into my window.

"Can i go with you?" She asked me.

"Ummm i wish you could, but what about your college?" As i searched for the right answer.

"I wanna go with you." She asked once again, i saw some sadness in her eyes.

"Darling, i promise you i will be back, soon. Okay? So wait for me, we can save the feeling of missing each other throughout the next 4 months and then when we meet again, we will pour it all down." I said as i looked her in the eyes and held her hand.

"Promise me you will come back!" She asked me for the last time of that day.

"Pinky promise." I said as i pulled my pinky out.

I decided to get inside the house after her mom called my name. After some talks and saying goodbye, i pulled my Corolla out of the driveway and went back home. I waved my hand at Lily and her mom as i disappeared from their sights in the distance.

The morning came, i fulfilled one of my promise, and proceeded to leave to the airport along with Sarah. Her mom picked me up because my parents couldn't drive me there. We left at about 7am on a beautiful Friday morning. We picked Friday flight so that we could still have some free time on the rest of the weekend.

We arrived at about 9am, we still have plenty of time as our flight would depart around 10.45am. After getting a hug from Sarah's mom and saying goodbye to her, Sarah and I decided to check-in as early as possible. We didn't carry many stuff, just one backpack and a suitcase on each of us. After arriving at the boarding room, we decided to take a seat near the window.

"Do you want some coffee?" Sarah asked me.

"Do they have milk instead?" I asked her back.

"Unfortunately, no sir, i don't think so." She answered while trying to look at the menu. The coffee stand was right in front of us.

"Well, yeah, coffee then, just like yours." I told her.

"Okay then." She said as she walked to the cashier and ordered. After about 10 minutes, she walked back with two cups of coffee on her hands.

"Wait, i will pick which one's for you." She said before i even moved my hand.

"Alright mademoiselle, whatever you say." I told her.

"Here, this one's for you." She said as she gave me a cup. It looked all the same to me but she had been like that since we were kids so i got no complaint about it.

"Merci, mademoiselle." I told her

"De rien, monsieur." She answered back in French as well.

She reminded me to tell Lily that i had arrived on the boarding room. So i sent her a message. She told me everything that i should say to Lily and i just did three out of many things that she said.

Lily just read the message and didn't reply, even until we found our seat in the airplane. There was some sense of sadness and disappointment that i felt the moment i turned on the airplane mode and put my phone inside my pocket. The airplane began to move to the start of the runway.

Then, as our plane ascended towards the bright blue sky in the middle of a beautiful Friday, my mind started to got filled by the fear of what was going to happen when i arrived on my destination. Then i felt paralyzed, down on my legs. I closed my eyes while trying to calm my mind.

Then somehow, i could feel a hand holding mine softly. As i opened my eyes, i saw Sarah tilting her head while looking at me. Her hand held my hand, then she smiled.

"Everything's going to be okay." She said as she closed her eyes while kept holding my hand.

"You're right, thanks for being there." I said as the plane flew through the layers of clouds under the sunlight.

The next few weeks were a bit harsh. Lily didn't send me any message unless i sent her a message first. It was like she didn't want to expect my presence even in her phone.

"Is there anything wrong?" I sent her a message on a Friday night.

"Nothing's wrong, why?" She replied.

"Well, i'm sorry to say this but is there anything wrong that i did?" I asked her back.

"Adrian, i said there's nothing wrong, so there is nothing wrong, got it?" She said. Somehow i could imagine how she would say it if she was in front of me.

"Ummm okay, i'm so sorry." I apologized to her.

"Don't worry, i wanna sleep, good night." She replied. Which marked the end of our conversation that night.

Deep down, i still thought that there is something wrong between us. But i couldn't figure out what was that. So i decided to write a letter that night. Just a letter that i would keep by myself, but actually it was intended for her.

As i wrote the words one by one, i heard a noise behind me. I thought it was just somebody tapping the wall outside my room, but the noise didn't stop even for 10 minutes. So i decided to stop writing and take a peek of what was going on behind me. Surprisingly, the observer sat down on the couch near my bed.

"You are planning to send the letter, right?" He asked me as soon as i turned around to look at him.

"wow wow you did scare me. Can't you just say hi or something?" I told him.

"Oops, i forgot. Hi Adrian." He said innocently.

"Mehh. Back to your question, hmmm no, i won't send this." I answered.

"Why not? I saw you wrote her name on top." He asked back.

"Because..." I paused as i struggled to find an appropriate answer.

"You don't want to hurt her with what you really feel?" The observer guessed the reason by himself.

"Well, technically it is. But yeah, i suppose that she had a rough time on her college so maybe that's why she acted that way." I decided to tell him.

"But the way she ignored you, the way she judged you, it hurts, doesn't it?" The observer asked me back.

"I don't think it hurts me. After all, i don't mind it. As long as i know what happened to her." I answered his question. I was not quite sure of the answer, actually.

"But you didn't know that." The observer gave a bit of laugh after saying it.

"Yeah, but i'd better accept this than losing her." I said as i tried to find a good argument.

"You are afraid of losing her, but is she afraid of losing you?" He asked. Now his voice got deeper.

"I think so. She said it to me back then, a couple of times." I answered, trying to defend my decision.

"Yeah yeah you're right. But here's a little advice, don't sacrifice yourself for someone who won't be thankful for it." The observer said as he started to disappear.

After hearing what he said, i just sat there, staring at the empty couch where he sat before. I put the pen down beside the paper where i wrote the letter. Then i opened the window. A crescent moon appeared on the east. With some clouds hovering near the lonely satellite of the earth.

"Lily, i wish you'll let me know where i did it wrong." I whispered as i gazed into the moon.

It was a calm night. More than usual. Then, as i looked at the clock on the wall, i was surprised that I had been writing the letter for about 2 hours and then i realized there were only a small amount of vehicles passing by near my place.

"I miss you, Lily." I whispered to myself.

I spent the night sitting on the couch that i brought near the window. I just sat there looking at the crescent moon as it started to disappear above me.

When the moon was out of sight, i felt the sadness covering me up. Then the attack started to take place on me. I decided to close the window, and walked slowly towards my bed.

I could feel my legs got paralyzed. Something that seemed to happen more often ever since the day i went back with Sarah. There was nothing i could do other than crying because of the pain.

"I wish you were here." I said slowly as i was trying to hold the pain, in the middle of that long and lonely night.

#Orchid on my Garden

1 note · View note

b-and-willie · 4 years

Text

Let’s Try This Again( with the completed post this time) Complications of Loathing What You Need

I know, I disappeared, and most likely will again. Serious interaction on blogs (re mine) seems to be severely lacking so there seems to be very little reason to plug on and share intimate posts publicly.

So why now? Well actually I write this post almost 2 years ago, and life has a funny way of putting us back in places we need to fix over and over again until we get it right. To be frank I highly doubt I could compose a post these days. I'm rusty in so many areas. Covid life has put a hit on our dynamic yet it shouldn't because we have more time together- too bad our minds seem to have a constant drum in the background that seems to drown out much of our desires at the moment....

Anyway I read in a comment about a month ago something to the affect of " I read blogs sometimes and think of how sad people's lives are". I am sure the person commenting didn't mean it as a damaging comment. I want to point out before I continue trying to resurrect my morning's post in my mind again a few things. I would hope that no one reads my posts and feels sad for me. I will say that despite the struggles Barney and I have encounter since and even because of starting ttwd, it has changed me in ways I will never ever be sorry for. I will admit at times it seems to have caused strife between the two of us, but as I have said before, ttwd is more of a magnifier of issues that already exist more than it is a problem unto itself. Ttwd has allowed me to unearth myself;my true, authentic self, and even in the future if for some reason we can no longer live this lifestyle that knowledge and feeling will never be taken away.

Yes it has bettered our marriage but often not in ways I read about here and there. Sure sex is more frequent and more creative. But honestly that is a byproduct of me being less guarded and allowing intimacy into our lives. Anyway, that isn't why I wrote this morning. I wrote this morning because of a few things I was reflecting on in the past 24 hours.

The first being....

Loathing What You Need

Such an ominous title right? Here's the thing, I do LOATHE what I need. This isn't a post about questioning my need for submission ( though one might argue it could be one questioning my sanity). I don't fault anyone out there that is currently questioning their need for submission, I have been there countless times, but thankfully that ship has sailed! One LESS complication in my life.

No I mean I loathe the things I have to do to cultivate and maintain my submissive heartset. Do I enjoy being spanked? HELL NO! I mean not even a reset-though slower to start therefore easier to take in the long run it isn't a fun adventure. Barney has and will employ BDSM tactics(?) to achieve a certain level of resetting as well. And while I endure and my body often betrays me to indicate I enjoy it, it isn't something I crave. ( Though I am not a huge fan of 'vanilla' sex...I am more referring to the slight torture aspect lol). What I do crave is the power exchange that is created in both of these scenarios. Do I find it 'yummy' to be told to get on my knees, or kneel- nope. Do I find it enjoyable to wearing a plug while vacuuming, kneeling on pebbles in a freezing corner, being told to get off the computer, eat this, don't eat that, wear this, phone me if you want to have a drink/buy something/leave the house ...blah, blah, blah....Can't say I do. No doubt my face generally indicates that as well. BUT what I do enjoy is the benefits of doing these things- um more than the relief that I might be punished if I don't. The benefit of, for whatever crazy reason, keeping me unguarded. The benefit of being constantly in my husband's 'cross hairs'. The intimacy that is created because I have submitted to his wants, especially because I don't WANT to do them.

This isn't to say that when life is grand in the Submissive World of Willie, that I can't enjoy some aspects of submissive acts. Some things, chore lists etc, actually become more meaningful for me. Some days that meaning might just be that I accomplished them despite myself! lol . It also doesn't mean that I don't anticipate the needs of my husband without prompting as I do enjoy that but to me that isn't submission.

Do I have thoughts during the day like, " Well I wish he'd just ....." yes, yes I do. Now how confusing is that? I loath doing it, but please tell me to do it. (Of course it goes without saying the fact that he SAYS those 'things' need to be done is a large part of the process as well) Those of you out there that can follow my crazy rant here would probably understand it for what it is. For me it is the end goal feeling, not the things I need to do to get me there that is the reason for the submissive acts. I understand that there are subs out there that LOVE and Crave the acts themselves, for what they are. And I am generally a people pleaser so there is that too. But I mean they love it, and I say "Good on you!" I think sometimes life would be so much better and easier for Barney if I did just gleefully spring into action EVERY TIME. I don't. As Barney said, " You are 100% submissive - 95% of the time". It is the 5% that he tends to see now.

(Here is the don't feel sorry or 'sad' for me portion of the post )

The last month has probably been one of, if not the most difficult months in my entire life. I know it has been THE most difficult month in the last 21 years. There are a number of factors which have contributed to this outstanding statement,but in truth the hows or whys really aren't important. It will be a very long time for some factors to be removed, and IF other factors can be fixed they will take a long while with a lot of work as well. I am generally not one who can sit by and wait for life to work itself out, or to watch on the sidelines- sadly some of these situations require just that.

The one thing I can actively work on is our relationship. It has taken a direct hit, and in some ways there was no avoiding it as focus had to be put in other areas emotionally. However in doing so it created a situation where my submissive self became barricaded deep inside. The dial was switched to Personal Survivor Mode. See the big issue there? PERSONAL....not exactly a great word to use in conjunction with ttwd dynamic. So locked was this dial on the Personal Survivor Mode station, things Barney used to see as indications that I wasn't where I needed to be became a bone of contention. Resentment. The dreaded word of any relationship! Why didn't I JUST DO IT??? Were his thoughts. It is my need after all why don't I just do it?

I was talking to a dear OLD friend last night. We often discuss various things but last night was a different kind of conversation, probably due to sheer emotional exhaustion on both our parts. We started discussing our submission in a way perhaps we haven't in a while. One thing she mentioned to me in reference to something else was, the fact of how fortunate we were to " have experienced the benefits and beauty of submission". A light went off in my head this morning thinking of that (yeah I'm a bit slow these days). That is what has been missing these past few months. Right before the house of cards started crumbling down around us, we had had a pretty wonderful week. Unfortunately the pressure one felt coupled with and because of the fulfillment of the other, seemed to cause issues immediately after said week. I felt deeply during that week. I felt free and myself again, even though I did screw up, and question myself as to why. I felt it. I felt the benefits and beauty of it. I was once again A submissive not merely BEING submissive (and that is okay if you identify as the latter- I don't mean to put a public hierarchy on it, I am only referring to my personal feelings of self).

For the last while,and again somewhat due to life circumstances, I haven't felt fulfilled in or with my submission. This morning I was punished, sigh AGAIN, which you know is part of the deal right? It was physically a challenging punishment to take as I had been severely punished yesterday and that had yet to leave me. The severity wasn't due to my act that got me punished but because of my 'act' WHILE being punished. If you are new here or you know forgot- I tend to be a bit of a hard head which later in the day after my bravado wears off and my butt thaws is NEVER a good thing. After my punishment I was told to reflect on how I was currently feeling and tell Barney when he asked.

Okay ladies and gents this is generally NOT a good thing for us! LOL. At least not of late. Barney should really know by now that he shouldn't ask questions he doesn't really want to hear the answer too! My response was I felt resentful. I was punished and I deserved to be based on our dynamic. I am not denying that. I felt resentful because I feel like maybe he is putting me in a position to force his hand- literally. He is trying to get us back on track. He is being consistent with punishments, but for me, the punishment is a result of something else not working, or being acknowledged. Please don't take this for me BLAMING Barney for my actions....though I suppose it does sound like that doesn't it? These are actually his words from the not so distant past. These punishments are isolated incidents. Without his active dominance after, there is a void.

I never tested Barney when we started ttwd. I know I have mentioned that countless times. I am no saint. I just didn't do it because he said if he ever thought I was testing him, he would end our dynamic. I guess that stuck with me. Have I 'poked the bear'? Yup. And as I have also said, I didn't test him because I was afraid that he would 'fail' and then where would I be? In addition to that, for years I loved just doing what was required of me. That along with self analysis was enough to help me discover who I was deep down. But as life changes, and discoveries are made complications arise. We are all organic in nature as are our relationships. Those who choose not to continually adapt may eventually fail. ( If you are married to a pain in the butt like me )

In the past, though not often with a grand amount of consistency, red flags would go up if I was being punished. Honestly I am an emotional creature (shut it) and punishments often are not a deterrent for me. What I mean to say is 'in the moment' I tend to forget that my butt is going to fry, or I will be unplugged (electronically) because of my words or actions. Naturally over time Barney began to see punishments as being a failure on his part because to him I am not fearful of them (ask me right before on day two and see how NOT fearful I am of them). I now fear the red flags are not being seen, just the red ass. The building on dominance from the ultimate dominant situation, has been missing. (Save today, but I had already started to write, so just go with me on this one).

As I stated earlier, when situations arise and we find ourselves where we currently are, I tend to see things as isolated events. One event not really connecting to another. Barney tends to fixate on one 'type' of dominance during these times. For example punishments and reactions. However, when things are running as smoothly as they can here

(pretty much as smoothly as this)

Barney can multitask in his domination. Though punishments are rare in that 'euphoric' state...lol

Here's the thing....there are so many conflicting messages being transmitted out by me...even 5 years in.

I need this, but I hate aspects of it

I want you to make me, but I don't want to do it...but I will because I want to.

Make it your own, but don't forget how it affects me

Consistency with punishment is required for effective results- but it isn't all about reacting and punishments

Cultivate but ....

And when we are in a good place, these messages don't seem to be so loud, but when we go off course, everything seems to cause hurt, frustration, and the world's worst secondary emotion- anger!

All of these things of course can be talked about. The issue really becomes not only putting it into practice, but a practice that BOTH can see.

The issue with 'falling off of the wagon' is the interpretation of the past. What if one is clinging to the successes while one is clinging to the failures? What if the one clinging to the successes is also affected deeply by the failures, and is holding back moving forward because of it, yet indicates that the other SHOULD just push through?

YUP....clear as mud.

We are fine (yes the dreaded word). Barney is holding true to what he currently can. To be honest it is me. I am the issue. I can go on and on as to the whys I believe I am the hold out but I'm not entirely sure that would be helpful. After all it would only be my interpretation of events. So the whys to me (for once in my life) aren't as important. I have to just put one foot in front of the other and follow along- doing the best that I personally can. But there is the issue, can/ want/ need....sigh what if some of it I loathe and after so long of not believing it mattered if I did or didn't-( you know "If a tree falls in a forest..." )how do I convince myself I should; that it will matter? At the very least to me once again?

#d/s #submission submissivestruggles

5 notes · View notes

let-sanji-say-fuck · 5 years

Note

Scenario for Law and his crew telling Laws s/o that she's annoying and to clingy also saying awful things and telling her that she's too weak and always in the way. She has an awful past that she craves love. People abused, abounded, betrayed her and she's been cheated on multiple times. She feels so ashamed and unloved, that she lifted the crew. Two years later she's completely different (she acts like Law) Law and his crew stills cares about her and Law stills loves her. Add NSFW at the end.

When I started writing this and it was turning angsty af I was about ready to gift my spent heart to some twisted soul who would want it more than I needed it anymore, but then I wrote the smutty part and felt better because there’s slight fluff in it muahahaha. For real though, I quite enjoyed this request, and I really hope you do too!

Word count: 1936.

Warnings: angst… but then smut! And also you might want to consider this an AU scenario because Shachi and Penguin are, uncharacteristically, hoes.

Trafalgar Law

“You look exactly the same as two years ago. Same resting bitch face.”

“I can’t say the same about you. New resting bitch face… [Name]-ya.”

The plan was to meet up with his crew in Zou. Shachi, Penguin, Bepo, Jean Bart, everyone was there. Everyone, including [Name]. She was in Zou, but she wasn’t a part of his crew anymore. Why the heck was she in Zou?

They weren’t supposed to meet again.

It had been a bad week. No matter what she did, [Name] didn’t seem able to get it right. She had overslept most mornings, resulting in a scolding from Law, who thought she only wanted to run away from her chores, which she ended up messing up. Spilling the bucket and slipping across the bubbly floor, tripping and breaking a burning hot pipe that earned her a nasty burn on her forearm, accidentally stepping on Bepo’s paw while he was napping on the deck and almost falling over the railing, getting another unnecessary injury from when that time a Marine ship attacked the submarine, and the list seemed to go on endlessly.

Nothing was going well, and it had affected [Name]’s mood severely, She really wouldn’t have minded it, had it stopped at that, but for some reason the rest of the crew had grown distant from her. Law included. The lively maze she once knew the submarine as would suddenly become an empty shell whenever she turned up, and the anxiety began to bubble unpleasantly within her with each passing day.

One morning, she decided to approach her friends directly. The girl was so desperate to find relief in knowing that everything was just her tired mind playing tricks, that no one was actually pushing her away, that she wouldn’t be abandoned again… That thin glimmer of hope gave her the inner strength to step into the mess hall that morning to find Shachi, Penguin and Bepo viciously downing their breakfasts like starved men and Mink.

“Morning guys! That smells delicious!” She sat down next to Penguin, who nodded his head in agreement. The other two greeted her back, and [Name] felt a pleasant smile curl at her lips. It certainly didn’t feel like they were opposed to her company, and she noticed with delight that a weight was slipping from her chest, lump in her throat shrinking. “We haven’t talked much lately, right?” Grabbing the man’s arm, she looked up at him and smiled brightly. “How’s it been?”

“Well, fine, nothing much but… could you please pull away a little? Sorry, it’s kinda hot today and…” Her eyes opened like saucers and she froze, noticing that she had been cuddling her friend’s arm out of habit. He had never been bothered by it before! His words broke on her like a jar of icy water, and she scurried off with an ashamed hue on her cheeks.

“O-Oh! That’s okay! I’m sorry, Penguin!” He had just asked her to move aside a little, it wasn’t that big a deal, nor that difficult to do, but she cursed the terribly narrow space between the long bench and table. She was trying so hard to properly fulfill his request that she didn’t notice Shachi’s cup of tea and harshly elbowed it, knocking it over in its owner’s direction and spilling the steaming contents on him.

“SHIT!” [Name] sat down, quivering while she listened to each “damn it all” and “fuck, it’s so hot”. She shrank in fear when she noticed the eyes of the ginger directed at her. His scrunched-up brow gave away the hard glare on his half-hidden featured. “Oh god, [Name], can you just… stay still and do nothing? Our lives might be safer if you stop fucking up at every given chance!”

“I-I’m so sorry.” The familiar sting in the back of her nostrils and the lump coming back even tighter than before barely allowed her to breathe, to talk, and much less could she see with the overflowing tears that had quickly started welling in her eyes. She got up abruptly, nearly tripping on top of Bepo, before running away and out of the mess hall, which was now quite a literal mess.

“Law?” She knocked gently on the door leading to the wide medical ward, where she knew she was to find her Captain. Her eyes felt sore from all the tears she had shed back in her room. Embracing her pillow, she had remembered those times when Law would comfort her without a question whenever she knocked on his door after being startled by a nightmare. How his arms would gently pull her closer and how he would press his lips to the crown of her head and make her feel fully loved for once in her whole life. Betrayed by her own friends, he was everything she had left. If this didn’t work… She didn’t even want to think about it.

“What is it?” His voice sounded gruff and echoed across a room so wide that no matter how many beds were fit into it, any sound would reverberate unpleasantly. She flinched, hearing the sharp sigh coming from his lips as he stretched. “You don’t need a change of bandages yet, [Name].”

He sounded exasperated and tired. Would he really have the patience? She didn’t even dare step into the room in fear of tripping over something and managing to make him snap. Her eyes flew to the pristine wrappings around her arm, the new ones he had fastened the night before without even looking at her in the eyes.

“I-It’s not that… You see, Law… Can you take a break, or something? Only five minutes if you’re really busy. I really need it.” With every second that passed without an answer her eyes grew heavier with droplets of a fresh batch of tears. She really hoped he would concede her some time. She was his lover for crying out loud! If she didn’t even have his shoulder to cry on, she didn’t know who to trust anymore. “P-Please…”

She would be content with just sitting on his lap while he continued working. Just anything as long as it involved having him close.

“Okay, but make it brief. As you said, I’ve been really busy lately,” he muttered, eyeing the couple of treated injuries on her limbs. [Name] didn’t fail to catch this and looked at her feet, ashamed. Did he really need to make that comment?

“I… I want to cuddle you,” but her voice betrayed her in the last second, when she noticed the erratic tapping of his fingers on the table, and she could only mumble so lowly that not even herself could hear her words properly. He was impatient, he was irritated. He groaned and harshly pressed his palm on the table. He ignored the flinch of her shoulders. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself, there was no way he had just missed it.

“Louder, [Name]. If you’re going to make me waste my time at least speak clearly.” Tears were staining her cheeks now. What was wrong with everyone? Why did they hate her so much? She wanted to believe that it was just the stress talking for him, that he cared about her, that he…

…He wouldn’t care. She pressed her lips into a thin line a breathed shakily through her nose.

No, he wouldn’t give a fuck.

“I’m going to leave the crew.”

She didn’t allow her heart a second thought, a moment to stare into her Captain’s shocked eyes… No. Ex-Captain’s shocked eyes. She turned around and stepped away, ignoring the calls of her name and managing to escape a good bunch of meters before the blue film brought her back into Law’s arms.

“Stop joking! Why would you say that?! I’m done with your pranks now, [Name]!” The girl struggled in his grasp, kicking and hoping that her leg would somehow make contact with his face.

“It’s not a prank or a joke! I’m done with every last one of you! I’m going to leave this fucking submarine even if it means drowning instead-!”

Any other words she had to say died in died in her throat or against his lips as he kissed her forcefully, not wishing to hear anything else. Her struggling, however, only rocketed from there; she shifted wildly, let out muffled cries against his lips and started to feel a moisture on her cheeks that, at that point in time, she believed were her own tears. Only after she bit his lip roughly did he pull away, hissing, and the first thing she did with with the newly gained proximity was turn his face to the side with a deafening slap.

Law stilled and his arms grew limp, resulting in [Name] falling to the floor with a loud and painful thud, but she didn’t care. She looked feral as she glared at Law’s numb expression and snarled the words that would haunt him on countless nights.

“I fucking hate you, Trafalgar Law.”

The days that followed the event were of voluntary confinement. [Name] didn’t exit her room, and Law didn’t force her out. The tension in the submarine was so thick it could be cut with a knife, but no one ever moved a finger to do so, to change the situation, to fix things.

After a week, the submarine reached an island, docked and [Name] was gone for good.

“I’ve traveled a lot, Law… These past two years…”

The night was serene, dark and beautiful, and Law realized that the sky had that in common with [Name]. She had changed a lot indeed, looked more mature, breathtakingly so. He hadn’t been able to stop looking at her when she had told him about her experiences, about the people she met, the guys she despised more than she had despised him, back in the day. This felt like a truce, he was in a dangerous place.

And yet he couldn’t stop himself from looking into those two very beautiful eyes as he pounded her higher up the moist bark of the most faraway tree they could find. She bit her lip, staring back at him with just as much lust. She moaned quietly, thoroughly enjoying everything he did to her, from the one hand that was lazily rubbing her clit in sync with every thrust to the other one – which he wouldn’t have the pleasure of using if he wasn’t such a lucky bastard, she had found out – supporting and fondling her right ass cheek.

“Did you find love out there?” Law’s voice was strained and breathy against her neck when he forced his eyes away from her face to hide his own into her neck. His pace fastened, and he felt himself approaching.

“No.” The single word was a relief to Law, he smiled against her skin. “But lots of sex, I gained some experience.” As if to prove her point, she tightened around him and moaned next to his ear. He shuddered, losing the rhythm for a second and fearing he could cum right then and there.

“I can see that.” Feeling her moist lips against his ear, sucking and biting at his earrings, he chuckled hoarsely. “I still remember our last kiss.”

“Way to fuck up a romantic farewell kiss.”

“Heh, would you let me make up for it?” When he looked back up, her eyes shone like the stars above, and she managed a small smile before tentatively pressing her lips to his for the first time in years.

Perhaps absence did make the heart grow fonder.

#Trafalgar Law #Female Pronouns #Angst #Smut #Scenario #One Piece #soul-stealer-reaper

64 notes · View notes

lovehugsandcandy · 5 years

Text

Four Words, One Reply (Colt x MC)

A/N: I haven’t written anything recently because my muse was GONE after prom on Friday. Muse said that she needed a break because she got everything she wanted. Back now, for better or worse. Here’s a bit of fluff, a bit of wish fulfillment for me and PLEASE let this offering of fluff atone for the angst I posted earlier.

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: 1556 words

Rating: PG-13 (Swearing, probably, because I swear a lot.)

Summary: Ellie graduates from Langston.

Tags: @deimosensblog @alegria1580 @choicesarehard @thefarrari @client-327 @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @hazah @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @powdesiree1986

Ellie dreaded the day that the letters stopped coming. The worst of it was the terror, deep in her soul, that she would never know. Would he stop writing when he fell out of love? When he was sentenced to jail? Worse?

Her roommate thought it was romantic. "No one writes letters anymore, Ellie. It's sweet." Little did she know that it was likely a necessity, a way to avoid being tracked. Electronic communication could be dangerous and she was certain she didn't even have Colt’s current phone number. All she had were the letters.

They came unexpectedly, with no rhythm. Some months, she would get a letter a week, with varying return addresses, some with stamped return envelopes, to varying cities, so she could write back if she wanted. She always did.

Some months, there were no letters. The worst was four months, spanning the summer and start of fall semester of junior year. Ellie was in a panic, barely able to sleep until, finally, a thin envelope in her mailbox, no details, no explanation, only an "I love you, Ellie." She cried, sobs in the middle of the campus center, oblivious to the stares around her.

Sometimes they came with money, always cash. Never a ton, but enough to make her worried about what he was doing. Always earmarked for something, $400 for new school books, $100 for her "first legal drink at Flanagan's and a cab back home." At first, she sent it back; she didn't want his money (she wanted him) and felt bad taking it. He would return it to her, quickly, with a gentle admonishment that it was his way of feeling connected, a way of being there with her in spirit. She took it more often than not now but, when the nights were long and the nightmares were strong and the terror wouldn’t subside, she would send his money back, knowing it was the fastest way to get letter in return, to know that he was still ok. And, though it made her uneasy, she did let him buy her first legal drink.

She knew, with their last conversation in LA, that she was signing herself up for a bit of loneliness. He told her that he needed time, he couldn’t be in LA, he needed to get away. She understood, she got it. She knew the memories this place had for him. She asked him to come with her; wasn’t Boston far enough away? She still remembered his sad eyes, the last kiss. He told her he would wait for her, but he didn’t expect anything, said he didn’t know when he would see her next, but he would, one day. She didn’t know if he was trying to outrun his grief or hide from it, but she prayed he succeeded.

And now this, a month before her graduation, a cryptic note, barely a letter, on the back of a photograph. She could recognize the image, the Bean (he was in Chicago?) and pored over the picture, looking for a hint of him. She couldn't find Colt, no smirk, no leather jacket but, in the corner of the reflecting mirror, warped in the curve of the monument, she finally spied what he wanted her to see. A sleek bright pink European import, looking amazingly like her car back in LA. And on the back, four words and a return envelope, addressed to PO Box in Pittsburgh. She read those words, over and over and over again, in class, in bed, memorizing Colt’s scrawl as if it would bring him back to her, in the flesh. Finally, three days later, she printed a picture of herself, a selfie in front of the magnolias blooming by the library, her fiercest look on her face, graduation cap in her hand. She wrote one word, on the back, and sent it, kissing the envelope as if it would make it travel faster.

In the meantime, she finished classes, hung out with friends, and went on with her life, trying to live enough for both of them.

~~~~~

It was ungodly hot for Boston in May and Detective Wheeler shifted in the shitty folding chairs the university had rented for graduation. He was nothing but grateful to be here and so happy for his ambitious daughter, graduating Summa Cum Laude from her dream school. He was just so proud and had told her as much at breakfast this morning, with her and her roommate and some friends, all celebrating their achievements and simultaneously scared of what was ahead. He was just ecstatic that they all made it this far, intact and whole, willing to take nothing for granted.

He remembered being terrified, after the months senior year when she was lost to him, terrified she was gone, terrified he had failed her, his wife, himself. He still remembered the relief when he opened the door that morning and she was there, two kids in tow, asking for help from a horror they never should have been involved in. Who would have thought the crew he was supposed to be hunting was more Lost Boys than Mafia? And who would have thought they would have been influential in bringing down an actual, organized crime unit in the LAPD?

After, his prodigal daughter had returned, and then gone to school, and things had generally returned to normal. She studied hard, came back for breaks, and confided in him, every detail of college. The all-night studying sessions, the boys who seemingly had their eye on her, even a few snippets about the parties she attended. There was only one thing she didn’t share with him, one thing too personal, too close for her to divulge to her old man. He saw the letters, sometimes, and ached to read them, but he trusted her. Giving her this space was important to him, a way of redeeming himself for watching too closely for years. She had earned her freedom.

And that freedom brought him here, to graduation, from one of the best universities on the East Coast, sitting in the heat and fiddling with a program. Riya would have come but her graduation was the same day so he was here, alone, bringing best wishes from LA.

Well, almost alone. A shadow fell over him, a soft clearing of a throat and, when he looked up, he dropped the leaflet, turning back to watch it sway to the ground.

“Is this seat taken?”

He stood, eye to eye with the boy, no, the man, next to him. He hadn’t seen him in four years and stared; his shoulders had broadened, visible in the short-sleeved dress shirt, eyes still intense, jawline and cheekbones seemingly sharper with age. The last time he had seen Colt Kaneko, he was broken, mourning a father he barely knew and a life he never would live. Now, he seemed more at ease, as if time didn’t erase all wounds, but made them easier to deal with. He still looked like he would never truly relax but that he was, for now, at peace.

Colt extended his hand and he shook it, then gestured to the chair. “Sit down.” He picked up the brochure, watching Colt settle in, putting a bouquet of flowers under his chair. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

A small smile. “Yeah, Ellie doesn’t know either. I don’t know if she’s going to hit me or hug me.”

Wheeler grinned; he knew his daughter better than that. “My money’s on neither.”

~~~~~~

Ellie couldn’t stop laughing and smiling and celebrating. She felt alive. After the ceremony, she desperately ripped off her gown, sweltering in the heat. She couldn’t stop handing out hugs, to professors, friends, her roommate. The crowd was crushing, families and loved ones, all fighting to get to the graduates; she couldn’t find her dad. She knew he was here, somewhere, but the mass of people made it hard to see six feet in front of her.

Finally, it was like the crowds parted and there he was. She dashed, sprinting towards him, laughing and wrapping him up in a hug. They were flying back to LA in a few days, once things calmed down and she was packed, but she wanted to see him now, in the midst of one of the biggest celebrations of her life. She pulled back, looking at the joy in his face and laughed.

“Love you dad!”

He kissed her cheek. “Congratulations. I am so proud of you.”

She went to smile at him again when she saw something, someone, over his shoulder and froze with a gasp. He dad smiled and stepped aside and there, alive and whole and in the flesh, Colt stood, clutching a bouquet and looking painfully out of place. She stared at him, time stopping, the crowd a dull roar around her as they stared at each other.

She took a step, then another, and was soon running, leaping into his arms, her lips finding his, the flowers falling as he clung to her, desperately. It was all she could do to hold on as he kissed her like he was drowning, four years of missing each other communicated through touch.

Finally, he pulled back, stars in his eyes as he looked at her. “I love you, Ellie.”

“Always.”

#playchoices fanfic #choices rod #colt kaneko #colt x mc #colt rod #amy writes

117 notes · View notes