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seeds-and-sins · 3 years

Text

Right Time, Wrong Place.

Pairing: John Seed x Reader

Rating: M (SMUT!! & Language)

Description: You take over John Seed’s ranch, have some me time in his bed, only to find that he was watching the whole thing on his secret security cameras.

Tagged: @ivyluv

You had wanted revenge and you were determined to get it. It was as simple as that. Granted capturing John Seed's Ranch was just another box ticked for the resistance effort's chances of winning back Hope County, but for you? it was personal. The man stuffed you in a chair, tortured your best friend, and threatened to cut into your skin. To make matters worse, he looked like a whole damn meal while doing it. Speaking to you in that sinfully deep and rumbling tone that made you wet beyond imagine. Fuck that son of a bitch. Whoever stuffs you in a chair, tortures your friend, and threatens to cut you, loses their ranch. That's the deal, and it's final.

His response:

So. You've taken my home in the name of your little "Resistance." Ah, if those walls could talk... well, more accurately scream... Just know that I will get it back - sooner or later. And when I do, maybe I'll hang your skin as a trophy above the mantle.

You raided John's secret wine cellar later that day, laughing your ass off over the recollection of irritation in John's voice. All it took was a little push to send the man snapping into rage and oblivion.

You invaded all of John's privacy; following the wine cellar, came his office, following the office, came his kitchen, and then his own room. Everything was so neat and organized, the man didn't have one thing out of place. It was a testament in comparison to his unruly image when he would lose a few screws in agitation. His clothes were folded to perfection, placed into his drawers by color, style, or brand. For the clothes that weren't in his drawers, they were in his walk in closet; Gucci, Calvin Klein, Tom Ford O'Conner, and Brioni. The man was a walking advertisement, from his sunglasses to his shoes. You were certain that the outfit you had seen him in last costed about the same as your car in total. And now you had full access to everything...

"What the FUCK is she doing?!" John fumed, pacing back and forth in front of security monitors that lined the wall of his bunker office.

"Sir, we are doing everything we can-"

"Get out!" He demanded, bloodshot eyes settling on the screen, sweat beading down his forehead, as he watched you demolish his personal space. The bunker door shut behind him with an audible plank and he sunk back into a leather seat with a sigh of exasperation. You were driving him absolutely crazy: waltzing around his home as if it was your own, with his most expensive bottle of chardonnay no less.

You were throwing pictures off the walls, moving furniture around, and wrecking his entire wardrobe with your slimey fingers. He was under distress simply watching it all unfold before his eyes, the massacre, the trauma, his beloved ranch was being destroyed. What would Joseph think of him right now? So distraught over the material pleasures that he had collected for himself over the years. They were really all he had anymore, aside from his family and the project. You were disrespecting him, but it's not like you hadn't before. Countless times you had undermined him for the sake of your little act as hero, nothing he hadn't gotten used to these past few weeks. He enjoyed the game of cat and mouse, the playful chase, but this? This was personal...

*Uh yeah so, Sharky and I are having a big bonfire out by the henbane. Some of the others will be there, you coming?*

"No thanks, Hurk..." You replied with a proud smile on your lips, fiddling with the many cologne bottles that flooded John's dresser. "I think I'll stay here. I'm enjoying myself."

*Well, that's-* Hurk was interrupted on the other end by the familiar voice of a pyromaniac on steroids. *Is that the deputy?! Tell her to get her ass over here, now, so we can start this party.* There was minor shuffling on the other end, the radio clicked out a few times as if it was being wrestled for. *Give it, man!-Stop that!* You chuckled at the image of Hurk and Sharky fighting over a walkie talkie in the middle of the batshit woods. You laughed at what Hurk Sr. was probably thinking of the whole ordeal as he watched from his porch.

"Alright boys, well, I'm staying here for the night so, catch ya' later." You immediately switched the frequency, dropping it down onto the dresser. You collected the bottle of wine you had discarded in John's wardrobe, taking long gulps of it as you took note of his belongings. The entire place smelled like him, you had only caught a whiff when he was devastatingly close to when you were captive, but it was enough to recognize the hints of sharp Dior, new shoes, and rose. The man was a sin in the flesh and he knew it all too well, recruiting to the cult hundreds of people that most certainly lusted after him in private. He would have had a hold on you if he hadn't had been pressing a scalpel to your throat, or sending off a bunch of red flags with that psychotic glimmer in his eyes.

You could imagine though, fuel your darkest desires and daydreams as you stormed his castle. The wine helped, you had gone through half of the bottle as you adventured and you were starting to feel its effects. In your dreams, John was your lover. He was still a lawyer with the same successful edge and fortune to boot. He wasn't a crazy lunatic, following a bunch of other crazy lunatics. He was a man that fought for true justice, just as you had. And now, you were waiting for him to come home. You nearly dropped the bottle in your intense reverie. You carried the bottle into John's giant bathroom, you placed it on the edge of the tub, and turned the water on.

The grime stuck to you from the days events; the mud had caked on, gunpowder dusting your face, and blisters, cuts and bruises, scattered across your body. For a moment, it brought you back into the harsh reality that you were in a war zone. That John was a dangerous man and that you were utilizing his home like some sort of fun house. You shook the thoughts of blood and violence from your mind, derobing yourself of the dirty clothes and weapons that hung from you. When the water was shallow enough, you turned it off, dropping one of John's assorted bath bombs into it and waiting a few seconds for the soap to take. You couldn't remember the last time you had taken a bath and John's bathtub was about the size of a hottub.

You were in the bliss, the warm water engulfed your aching muscles and damaged flesh without hesitation, welcoming you into a trance of tranquility and calm. No bullets. No explosions. No expectations. Just you and this bath. Your mind wandered again as you rested in the lapping liquid, dirt and all sorts of substances leaving you like a weight being lifted off your chest. You could fantasize about John again, get back into the dream world you had created for yourself as you explored his home-correction; As you waited for John Seed to come home from his job as Hope County's trustworthy, kind, and loving lawyer.

You lathered yourself with all sorts of special products that John kept perched on the tub's edge. You took fluid swigs from the nearly empty bottle of wine every now and again, until you decided you were clean enough. John could be home any minute after all. You stepped out of the tub, pulled the plug on the drain, and left the bathroom into the closet again. Not without what was left of the wine, of course. He would want to see you in something appealing on the eyes, something that would tease him and draw him in from a long day of exhausting work. You could massage his taut shoulders, fingers moving down over those rippling muscles.

You settled for an expensive silk blue button up, no need for underwear with no one around. The button up was slightly open at the top, not that you'd be expecting any company-aside from John, that was. You flicked the light off and the room cascaded in darkness, aside from the moonlight that drew in through the blinds. John would enjoy seeing you like this. You jumped onto the bed; so big and comfy. The pillows seemed to swallow you with their fluff, douvet and all, tracing along your curves and exposed thighs. You adjusted so that your head was propped back and you were comfy, legs parted as you closed your eyes and sunk further into the dream you had created.

If John was normal, he would be gentle and soft. He would run his fingers down you when he arrived upon your shared bedroom. He would whisper sweet nothings into your ear as his dirty hands came over every bit of flesh on your body. He would seek your pleasure first, attend to your needs and wants, because you would look, Oh, so sinful. It was almost like you could hear his voice in your mind. He wasn't yelling at you. He was whispering to you, begging for everything that your body could give him. He would praise you like the God he worshipped, settle on his prayer voice when he spoke to you and made the filthiest promises.

You want me to do this to you, don't you? Touch you like this? Spread you like this?

"Yes," You mewed, you wanted him so bad. "Please."

...

"Dear, sweet mother of-" John choked out, face nearly sinking straight through the computer screen and he leaned in as close as was possible. He was so close that the static was barely electrifying the thick hairs of his beard. "Fuck me." He was straining in his jeans watching you get so comfy in his home. He wished he could hear you, cursing himself for not having installed more advanced cameras, as Jacob had suggested months ago. Thank the lord, they were hidden from sight. Thank the lord, that he had the opportunity to see you so vulnerable.

He bit his bottom lip nervously. What would Joseph say? Giving into sin like a moth to the flame. His eyes flitted over to the walkie talkie that sat on the desk. It was begging to be used, begging for John to do something that was reckless and sinful and dirty and everything he could be punished for if he tried. He groaned as he watched your hand finally reach its destination, your eyelids fluttering shut as you rubbing gently along your folds. The black and grey could only give away so much in this darkness. The night vision feature only worked to such an extent. Even so, John couldn't tear his eyes away. You were in HIS bed, in HIS clothes, after taking a bath with products that smelled like HIM. You were practically his at this point. All his.

...

You were so close, thinking about John, about his fingers on you, about his cock inside of you, about his lips passing over every deeply intimate spot on your body. You could feel the edge coming for you, as his scent penetrated you, as you felt the silk of his shirt against your nipples. You cried out, so close.

"Oh, John, fuck." You were alone, filled with careless abandon, delving deeper into this madness that was him. You were a second away from the most explosive orgasm you had had in weeks.

*Deputy...* You paused, feeling a cold sweat fall over you at the coo. Your eyebrows furrowed as you sat up on your elbows, eyes landing on the discard walkie talkie that you had left behind on the dresser. You worried at your bottom lip in frustration. You were so fucking close. *I know you are there. Speak to me.* You should ignore him. But how could anyone ignore John when he sounded like that; desperate, disheveled, and hot. He sounded of so hot and sweet. You dropped back into the pillow with a grunt, thinking that you could turn the radio off and be through with these constant disturbances. *Please.* Desperate, disheveled, hot. So, hot.

In one swoop, you jumped off the bed and attained the radio. You drew it up to your lips with a huff, fists clenched from the sheer rage that was building in you.

"What the fuck do you want, John? If this isn't about the negotiated release of Hudson, then I don't want anything to do with you." You waited for John's response, as it was suddenly very quiet on his end. Usually he spoke more, teased you more, threatened you more. Heck, just earlier he said he would get you back.

*This isn't about that.* His tone was of venom and annoyance now, which only sought to make you more irritated.

"Then, I don't see there being any reason to continue talking with you."

*Wait!* He sounded strained, as if she had broken him. *I can think of a few reasons.* Of course, he wants his house back. Poor fellow. You rushed and plopped back down onto the bed, a bright grin appearing on your lips.

"Oh John, Oh John," You taunted, feeling like you should run a victory lap for your achievement. Instead, you enveloped yourself in all of John's wealth and money. "Have I affected you in some kind of way?" Silence. "Little ole'me, in your home, all comfy in your bed, using your things. Sounds like I have gotten to you." The strangled groan that was relayed over the radio went straight between your legs. You had heard John groan out his irritation before and although this sounded slightly different, you hadn't thought anything of it. It wouldn't hurt to continue what you were doing before John's interruption. God knows you were still so close, thinking about him. He didn't need to know.

*You must have it all wrong, Deputy. The idea of you taking pleasure in my belongings brings a smile to my face.* The playful back and forth was a favorite of yours, you wouldn't lie. You never quite had the same interactions as you did with Jacob and Faith, both of whom would often ignore your jests completely. John reacted, he would give you his utter attention everytime you entered his region. You bathed in that sort of acknowledgement. You were now on the path of admitting that it kind of got you off; hearing his frustrations, hearing him coo, hearing him reciprocate every remark you gave him.

He liked it too. You knew he liked it.

"I'm such a bad sinner, aren't I?" You closed your eyes, free hand now coming down to the place you needed it most. A new fantasy had taken root, of John pleasuring himself as he spoke to you, getting off on your voice, off on his fantasies of you. On any other night, you couldn't imagine him breaking Joseph's rules to do such a thing. But tonight you wanted to imagine everything about John. He would be fisting his cock to the sound of you disobeying him at every turn, speaking into the radio, every word you spoke he clung to like a last breath. Tonight, you imagined him doing this: being sinful and breaking the rules in your honor. He would be relieving the tension that plagued you both for so long in his mind. He was no longer the sweet and gentle husband, coming home from work. He was the filthy, dirty, lusty lawyer that was your enemy; grasping for a chance to get you alone, so he could have you to himself.

*I should punish you...* You moaned at the pit of your throat, making sure he couldn't hear by removing your finger from the button. You were going to cum to the sound of John's voice and he didn't even know it. It was mildly empowering, feverish, and naughty, all at the same time. *I should tie you down and make you pay for all the wrongs you've committed. Make you confess all of your deepest, darkest secrets.*

"Oh, fuck." You heaved out, not having expected him to blindly play into this raunchy game of yours. The image of him, drowning in your conversations over the radio, as he milked his thick cock, flooded your mind. His button-up would be fully undone to reveal the mess of sweaty abs and tattoos across his torso. His hair would be falling out of its gelled, angelic perfection as strands drifted across his half-lidded eyes. The veins in his forearms would be bulging as he utilized his strength to work at the stress you caused him, in the form of a hard erection. You swore you heard him release some sort of sound from the other side of the radio. You hadn't quite been in the right state of mind to respond, but you were desperate to keep him talking.

"Tell me, John. You make all these promises and you don't keep them." You hadn't expected your words to come out so smoothly, what with your fingers now penetrating you just the way you liked. "If you wanted to punish me so bad, tie me down and make me confess, then you'd have me right this very second."

*I could, Deputy.* He shot out, all breathless and choppy. It only made your imagination run even wilder, that he might be doing what you were thinking he would doing. But he couldn't really be doing that, could he? *All I need to do is say one word and I can have you yanked from my bed in no time.* The thought of him sending in a team to come fetch you was about to do you in. The though of him wasting resources, time and energy, all so that he could alleviate his personal desires. You were about to cum so hard for him, so hard just by listening to his every word. You thought it was over, like his radio would go silent and that would be the end of it all. *But I much prefer it this way...* There was a hint of something deeply sinister in the low growl he spoke in. You wanted more of it, more of him. Your back arched up, and your finger slid over the button unbeknownst to you. He could hear the spill of moans and cries that were building up to the ultimate fall over the peak you had been climbing toward. And then he kept talking. *Seeing you all spread out for me, wearing my shirt, pleasing yourself to the thought of me fucking you into that mattress. Oh-ho-ho, Deputy~ You are so beautiful, when you are vulnerable.* He moaned each word with promise. You could hardly hear him groaning and sputtering out curses over the radio as you came on your fingers. You hadn't yet truly realized the sincerity of his words and the trouble that came with them. You were so lost to pleasure and the ecstasy that flowed through your body. The images of John's cum falling onto his sweaty stomach as his body rose and fell with each painful breath. The thought of him losing himself to you in the night, as you spoke to one another, shrouded in darkness, with only yourselves to know of the sins that occurred.

You waited a few minutes, attempting to catch your breath and yourself, coming down from the high that your body had been craving for so long. It was only then, as you had once been blissfully ignorant of the gravity of your situation, that your body jolted up.

But I prefer it this way, seeing you all spread out for me, wearing my shirt, pleasing yourself to the thought of me fucking you into that mattress...

Oh shit. You fucked up. Your eyes nervously searched the room, even in the darkness, what was there to see. The radio still in hand, you sprinted into the closet and shoved yourself under a set of John's hanging clothes. What were you doing?! Oh shit! You need to run! You need to grab your clothes and your weapons and you need to get out of here. Quick! What did you do?! He saw everything.

Oh-ho-ho, Deputy. You are so beautiful, when you are vulnerable.

*Oh, Deputy~* He sung with a light chuckle lilting the edge of his name for you. You felt a stain in your chest, of embarrassment, of guilt, of a diminishing pride and self-esteem. *There's no reason to be so shy all of a sudden.* Your forehead hit the palm of your hand.

You needed to react, get the fuck out of dodge, never come to the valley ever again. Nick and Mary and the Pastor had control over the situation, you could just fucking disappear. Why don't you jump into a void? Never return to Hope County even. Just leave forever. Did they make spaceships for extremely scarred and embarrassed common folk who wanted to get the hell off earth? Note to self, ask Hurk if he knows any aliens that could catch you a ride to the nearest infinity away from here. Fuck yourself. Fuck this. Fuck.

You hadn't even realized that John was still talking.

*Because I like you so much, I will even consider this an official confession. Wrath AND Lust.* You could hear the sickening grin of satisfaction. *Who would have thought that my little Deputy was so...* You were so unbelievably fucked. *Sinful?* Gunshots started to sound nearby, coming from outside the ranch, where resistance fighters had gathered to guard the newly acquired outpost. *I know I'm asking too much of you, my darling.* Your jaw dropped at the kindred and sweet way in which he spot the new pet name. *Just rest for now. You must be exhausted from the day's events.* You needed to get out of here, but you couldn't bring yourself to move. You were frozen with a whole course of unsettling emotions. *It's not easy to carry the entirety of a pathetic resistance effort on your shoulders.* And he sounded so loving, so tender, you had never in a thousand years thought you would ever hear John speak to you in such a way. *Don't worry, I will be home shortly.*

Return to Prompts

#john seed x reader #reader #farcry 5 #faith seed #jacob seed #john seed #joseph seed #john seed's ranch #resistance #the project #edens gate #mutual pining

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idw-sonic-fan-blog · 3 years

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The Mandates

Just wanted to share my thoughts on the pro-ported mandates because they cast a shadow on this comic.

“Game characters cannot have relatives unless they were estabilished in the game canon, i.e. Cream and her mother.”

This one is understandable and you can blame Penders for this. Mind you that most licensed comics of gaming franchises don’t actually delve too much in personal family relationships or expand on them. So this is expected and honestly Sega should have put the screws on Archie decades ago about this.

“Game characters can not die. There are workarounds for this, such as being Mistaken for Dying or "Mistaken For Dead”

Again. Yes. Not a big deal.

“Game characters cannot have wardrobe changes unless approved. Chao Races and Badnik Bases has some characters (mainly the female game characters) wear different clothes for extreme conditions. Male characters remain the same.”

This is a useless rule but whatever. I mean Sega, you are the ones putting bad wardrobe choices on the characters so again it’s whatever.

“Sonic can't be shown getting too emotional (i.e;cry)”

This is one that it complained about because it really wouldn’t matter unless it is called attention to. A lot of superheroes don’t cry. But that doesn’t prohibit them from expressing themselves. IDW Sonic has been sad. He has been pissed. He has been furious.

Is this not too emotional?

Is he not expressing himself appropriately?

I don’t even know why this is brought up. When in this comic has Sonic not been expressive or displaying the appropriate amount of emotion? When did Sonic needing to cry be necessary?

“Game characters cannot enter in a relationship.”

Oh GOD YES. Don’t threaten me with a good time.

“All major Character Development must be approved by SEGA.”

Yeah, of course. Let me remind you that Penders and Archie ruined any strand of trust Sega could have in comic media. They played loose at first and all of the sudden, they are involved in a lawsuit about characters in a Sonic comic that they didn’t even know about. They probably lost a video game business relationship because of it. If they want to be involved in the comics, fine. That means that they are now forced to World Build. They have to invest in it now and not just be like Lucas Films and let anybody do anything with their flagship title.

“Much like the post-reboot of the Archie comic, the words "Mobius" is banned—the planet is simply called "Sonic's World". Unlike the Post-Boot, which allowed the names "Mobian" and "Mobini", anything related to Mobius is banned in this comic.”

…Of course but how about you throw the writer’s a bone and I don’t know, name the fucking planet. If it is not Earth, give it a name.

“Sonic must always win at the end. Even if he and his friends are at the losing end in an overarching story (the Metal Virus arc, for example), they must come out on top when it concludes.”

I don’t even get this rule and the knee jerk hatred for it. Why even have it? Why even share the existence of this rule? Archie Sonic didn’t really lose too bad. It’s more on how you frame a victory. The fact of the matter is that Eggman is still actively trying to conquer the planet. Sonic stops him but Eggman still has control of land and has military installations all over.

This rule is offset by this. While Sonic can’t lose, Sonic can’t completely win.

“Characters and material from other licensed properties (Sonic the Comic, Sonic the Hedgehog (Archie Comics), Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic the Hedgehog (SatAM)', Sonic Underground, the OVA, Sonic X and the Paramount films cannot be used. This rule extends to characters and redesigns done by the current writers. The only exception is Sticks from Sonic Boom, and that's because she was created by SEGA themselves and showed up in non-Boom media, but any ideas regarding her use still need to be okayed by SEGA.”

First off I am glad that Sticks was spared by this rule and I look forward to her eventual inclusion. Second, again, this is not much of a big deal as it was expected. Sorry Freedom Fighter fans but honestly deal.

“Male characters, sans Eggman, can't wear pants, which was also a thing in the Post-Reboot, albeit never explicitly stated. The inverse is also true; female characters have to have some form of lower clothing.”

Okay this is a pedantic rule. It is so weird with how precise it is. Like…huh?

“Classic characters such as Mighty, Ray, Nack/Fang, Bean, and Bark won't appear in non-Classic issues, as Sega doesn't want Classic and Modern Sonic to mix.”

One of the most bullshit mandates fueled by the nostalgia boner fans created. Like this is stupid because Archie Modern Sonic has added more character and depth to all of these mentioned characters than any of the Sega Sonic games they appeared in which only amounts to 1 or 2 at most. Why neuter your own potential stories with this stupid limitation?

“According to Ian Flynn, a specific incident involving Shadow's characterization when he's exposed to the Zombot infection was written in a specific way because of Sega mandating that he be written as an "overconfident asshole rival" character, similar to Vegeta. He later followed up with an explanation that out of every character, Shadow has the most mandates and notes attached to how he's portrayed. According to the podcast, Sega says that Team Dark is no longer a thing. The three members are not a team and they have never worked for G.U.N.; Shadow also doesn't even consider them friends.”

This is my opinion is the worst rule. First it’s contradictory to the character Sega introduced us to. Stop trying to be like Dragon Ball for once and actually be your own thing. It’s one thing if we are changing it because Shadow was unpopular because of his personality. But no one likes this Shadow. People miss the somber but reserved Hedgehog that continued to fight in spite of the world betraying him. Hothead Shadow is a cheap Knuckles. And I don’t even understand why Shadow even has so many mandates when he wasn’t the most egregious offender. Knuckles was.

Also, Team Dark aren’t a thing and Shadow doesn’t even consider them to be his friends. First off that doesn’t even fly in your own games. Who outside of Sonic does Shadow interact the most? Rouge. They have teamed up and were a packaged duo since their inception. When Shadow appeared, Rouge appeared right next to him. If Rouge was in a game, so was Shadow.

Team Dark or just Rouge has fought alongside Shadow in every game they appeared in. Who else does Shadow talk to if not Rouge?

“Sega has stated to Flynn that only male hedgehogs are allowed to go Super with the Chaos Emeralds.”

Except in Sonic Mania.

“Ian isn't allowed to directly reference a game, since the comic is supposed to be its own thing.”

Okay. Not only is this rule stupid. But it’s untrue.

This references the end of Sonic Forces.

The first page of comic.

It has referenced Sonic Adventure, SA2, Sonic Generations , and Sonic Unleashed.

This referencing Shadow the Hedgehog.

I don’t believe this rule exists and even if it did, it is dumbest rule since the whole point of this comic is to base it off the games more. The dumbest rule.

“Knuckles is not allowed to leave Angel Island unless he has a very good reason to.”

For decades, people have complained that Knuckles routinely leaves the island. For decades. Now does this mean Sega is going to 1. Use Knuckles and 2. Amplify the importance of Angel Island and the Master Emerald? No. Again, this criticism should be levied at Sega because they often conveniently forget Knuckles purpose and just hand wave it instead of giving Knuckles more to do on the island like I don’t know, have other entities invested in attacking him.

In summary, here is what I think is going on. Do I think most of these mandates are real? Yes. Given what happened to Archie, I do think Sega is doing some brand alignment. I think they got the clamps on.

But what I think is going on is a Japanese cultural thing called Power Harassment. It is normalized abuse of power. Sega of Japan is normally laxxed about their brands. They don’t mind blatant rip-offs of their mascot nor do they get stiff about fandom creations or mods. The comic division, however, is getting tough love because not only did it cost them a publishing deal, but ruined a relationship with a high end developer. So the IDW writers and staff are being subjected to intentionally hypocritical rules and strict mandates that they know don’t make sense until they’ve shown to be obedient.

A lot of the mandates aren’t strict. But some are so asinine that I don’t think they aren’t aware with how stupid they sound imposing those rules. Like Shadow is the most narratively complete Sonic character and yet, Sega puts this tight mandate as if Archie Shadow was the most egregious thing. Archie Shadow was overpowered. He wasn’t out of character like Sonic, Knuckles, and Tails were. They can’t be that stupid or be that intentionally dense. So they want to see if the writing crew can follow orders. That’s it.

But that’s just my take.

#idw sonic #sonic the hedgehog

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plaidbooks · 3 years

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Dark Secrets: New Beginnings

A/N: This is the first installment of the Vampire!Sonny x reader fic. This chapter is only setting the stage; next chapter will be more about the vampire aspect, I promise! This covers the Bookstore square in @adarafaelbarba moodboard bingo!

Tags: mentions of sex

Words: 2233

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

You spent hours on the computer compiling resources for your thesis. After years and years, you were finally getting your Ph. D in History…if you could just finish this damned thesis. List complete, you headed to the local bookstore; you always checked them first before going online, since they were cheaper.

You were intimately familiar with the bookstore; you went there often. And you had double and triple checked online that they had these books. You had a small basket, four books in it, while you looked for the fifth and final book you needed. But its spot on the shelf stood vacant; a perfect hole where it should be.

Shaking your head slightly, you started to search the shelves around it, in case someone didn’t put it back correctly. But you were coming up empty. And this was the book that you needed to buy here; the shop had it for $20, while online was a couple hundred.

“Looking for Making the Revolution: America, 1763-1791?” a voice asked from behind you.

You turned to find a pale, lanky, attractive man, his hair slicked back, his bright blue eyes watching you intently. He was sitting at a table, open book in his hand. Seeing the cover, you knew it was the book you needed.

“I am, yes. Were you intending to buy it?” you questioned, praying he said no.

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “I was debating it. Why, do you want it?”

“I do; I need it for my thesis. If you let me buy it, I promise to give it to you when I’m done, free of charge.” At this point, you were just desperate for that book.

His eyes seemed to bore into you as he thought about your proposal. Finally, he smiled, saying, “I think that’s a noble reason to buy this book. You’ve got yourself a deal.” He held the book out to you, and you gently took it from him.

“Thank you so, so much. You don’t know how much this helps me,” you said, placing the book in your basket.

He held a hand up. “No problem. There’s a lot of inaccuracies in that text, anyways.”

You blinked in surprise. “There are?”

“Oh yes. For one, it perpetuates the idea that Christopher Columbus came here to ‘escape tyranny’ in England, which is a load of crap, if I’m honest.”

You took a step closer to the strange man. “Do you have a source on that?”

He thought about it, chuckling to himself about something, before he answered. “Well, I am in the process of transcribing a manuscript from the man himself. But it hasn’t been published quite yet, so I doubt it’ll be of use to you for your thesis.”

“Wh—who are you?” you asked in awe.

He held a hand out for you to shake. “Dr. Dominick Carisi Jr., but you, my dear, may call me Sonny.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and you quickly shook his hand. “Dr. Carisi? Oh my god! I’ve been reading your work in class; I loved your thesis on slavery!” You had never seen a picture of him, had no idea he was so young; he was about your age. You had expected him to be an old man, at least in his 80s, not this attractive man in his early 40s at most.

He barked out a laugh. “You’ve really been reading my work? I’m flattered. I didn’t think anyone put stock in my texts.” While it was true he was a world renowned historian, his work was seen as highly controversial. He had a knack for citing manuscripts and journal entries, things that no one had discovered before he brought them to the limelight. But every authenticator had proven that the writings were from the time period. And that was enough for you.

“Please, sir, er, Doctor. Could I spend a day with you, pick your brain for my thesis? I’ll—I’ll buy the drinks and food, just…please?” you asked, suddenly embarrassed.

But Sonny’s smile grew. “I’d like that. But only if you call me Sonny. If you’re doing your thesis, then I assume you’re almost done with your doctorate?” You nodded, and he continued, “then in my eyes, we’re equals, and you don’t need to call me ‘Doctor’.”

Your heart beat a little faster when he called you equals. “Thank you so much Doc—Sonny. Does the coffeeshop next door work for you?”

“It does. And I’m free all week, whenever you need me.”

“How about tomorrow morning? I don’t have class until 3pm; I hope that’s enough time to chat.”

He gave you that heart melting smile once more. “Sounds good. See you tomorrow.” Then he took your hand and kissed it. As he walked away, your knees felt weak. You were infatuated within five minutes of talking to him.

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

Sonny turned out to be an incredible source of information. Plus, he brought books that he thought would help you, letting you borrow what you needed. And, like yesterday, you found yourself completely enamored with him. He didn’t have a ring on, so you assumed him unmarried, but you didn’t know how to bring it up without being weird. Sure, you were close in age, but he was done with school, became a published historian, while you were still finishing up college. But he never talked down to you; on the contrary, he seemed highly interested in what you had to say.

Like before, you had been nervous—star-struck, really—when you met up with him. But as the hours ticked by, you found yourself more and more comfortable with him. He was highly intelligent, especially about history. You had found it hard to find someone who was as interested in history as you were, without sounding like a pretentious asshole. But Sonny checked all those boxes for you. You were just unsure if he felt the same.

“When is your thesis due? I feel like it’s still early in the academic year,” he asked.

You cleared your throat. “It is; I still have months and months to work on it. It’s due next year, but I want it to be perfect, you know?”

“I do, I do,” he agreed, nodding. “I hope you’re taking some time off, though, as well. Don’t let this paper take up your whole life; you should be out, appreciating everything this life has to give you. Don’t get stuck in the past.”

You looked at the table, letting his words soak in. It was like he had looked right through you; for the past month or so, you’ve been deep in your studies. You had friends, sure, but you hardly saw them. And you’d given up on dating until after you finished college, anyways. But maybe Sonny was on to something. You should seize the day, capture every moment in memories.

“Would you like to get dinner with me, Sonny?” you asked, trying to sound as confident as possible.

It was his turn to look surprised. “Oh, uh…sorry, you caught me off guard. In all my years, no one has ever asked me out; it’s usually the other way around.”

You chuckled. “You’re not much older than me,” you joked, and he smiled. “Maybe it’s time for something new. For both of us…that is, if you want?”

“I’d love to go to dinner with you,” he said, and your heart soared.

When it was getting close to 3, you bade him goodbye, and he told you he would be eagerly awaiting your dinner date. You felt your face heat at the words, and you swore your face never cooled off for the rest of the day.

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

That date with Doctor Carisi turned out to be the best decision of your life. You both felt the spark between you, and you said yes to a second date before he even finished asking. Now, it’s been ten months of loving bliss between you. You completed your thesis, got your doctorate, and Sonny couldn’t be more proud of you. And you learned that while he was a historian, he was also a detective. He said he wanted to help people now, by giving them both access to history material, and by putting absolute monsters away.

But there were little things with him, quirks, really. Though you’ve been to his place, and he yours, he never made a move to get you into bed. Sure, you’ve kissed—and sometimes this escalated to a full-blown make out session—but he didn’t seem interested in sex.

He also didn’t seem interested in moving in together…or a future at all, really. Whenever you tried to bring it up, he would just nod along with you, agreeing to whatever you said and adding on a lot of “one day’s”.

He had no family for you to meet, and yours didn’t live close. You noticed he also didn’t eat or drink much; he loved to make you dinner, and he would say that he snacked while cooking. And then, about once a month, he’d leave for 3-4 days, claiming he wanted to be alone to work on the manuscript.

You gave him as much space as he asked for, and though you still loved him dearly, you were starting to wonder if there was something wrong with you…or if it was just something he was having issues with.

“Hey Sonny?” you asked one day while snuggling on the couch at your place. “Are we okay?”

He glanced down at you. “As far as I know, yes? Why, something on your mind?”

“Well…I was just thinking about how we’ve been together almost a year and we still haven’t moved in together,” you tried.

He looked to the ceiling as he thought. “Wow, I guess it really has been that long now, hasn’t it? I feel like I just met you yesterday.”

“So, are we not connecting on a deeper level, then?” You sat up, turning to look at him.

His bright blue eyes found yours, and his expression softened. “That’s not what I meant; I’m sorry it came out like that. Time just…it moves so quickly is all. Look, I love you, I just—I don’t think I’m quite ready to make that jump yet. I’m sorry; I know this must be frustrating, but I promise you one day, I’ll…I’ll be ready.”

You nodded. “I love you too, I just….”

“What is it? You can tell me—”

“Why won’t you sleep with me?” you asked softly. His eyes widened, and you quickly added, “are—are you ace? It’s fine if you are, I understand, but I just…I feel like it’s something wrong with me, and I—”

He cupped your face in his hands, looking deeply in your eyes. “No, it’s nothing wrong with you, I promise. I’m just…I’m not ready—”

“I have urges, Sonny. And I love you, want to wait for you. But it’s been almost a year. I—I don’t believe a healthy relationship is built on sex, but well, it’d be nice to have every once in a while….”

He sighed, releasing your face. “It’s not that I don’t want to, because I do. I just want to be absolutely sure I’m ready. Call it shyness, or embarrassment, whatever you want. But I want to make sure that—that you’re the one for me, first, okay?”

You opened your mouth to respond when his phone rang. He gave you an apologetic look before answering with his stiff, “Carisi.” He mostly listened, making little noises of affirmation, before hanging up.

“I’m so, so sorry, doll. But the department needs me. I swear we’ll talk about this once I’m home, okay?” he promised, getting to his feet.

He grabbed his jacket, heading for the front door. “Sonny wait,” you called, and he stopped, looking back at you. You hurried over to him, looking up into those beautiful blues. “Be careful.”

He smiled softly. “I will be; promise.” He gave you a kiss, and then he was gone.

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

You didn’t hear from Sonny again until the next morning, when he showed up on your front door, breakfast in hand. He apologized for leaving you last night during that important talk, but you brushed it off, telling him it was fine.

“That’s not all I have to apologize for,” he said, looking anywhere but at you. “I’m…going undercover. I’ll be gone for three months.”

Your face fell, and you put your fingers under his chin, tilting his face until he looked at you. “Three months?” you breathed.

“I’m sorry; I tried to decline, but the Lieutenant gave her orders. I leave in an hour.”

“Three months…” you said again, worry blossoming in your chest. This was the longest he’d be gone since you started dating.

He nodded. “I’ll text or call when I can, but don’t expect it; it may be too dangerous.”

You’d heard enough; you lifted onto your tiptoes, kissing him desperately. Your hands went to his hair, and you pulled him close, all your fear and trepidation in the kiss. He froze for only a moment before he was kissing you back, hands on your hips. He clutched you tightly enough that you gasped in pain, and he pulled away, releasing you.

“I’m sorry. I love you,” he muttered before turning to leave, but you had a suspicion that he wasn’t apologizing for leaving.

#sonny carisi x reader #fanfic #my writing #dark secrets #monster!au #adarafaelbarbaseptemberbingo

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fandom-collective-writers · 4 years

Text

Fervor (Kenshin Uesugi x MC)

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing: Kenshin Uesugi x MC

Prompt: Sweaty

Warning: Smut!

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 3,904

Requested by: anonymous

Written by: @lordsisterxotome

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Sengoku or any of its characters. All of that goodness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost this on any other website.

Uesugi Kenshin was a god - really and truly. The air seemed to part for him as he swung his sword with inhuman ease, the movement so fluid, so graceful, so deadly it had her breath catching in her throat as she stared, rooted to the spot in awe. A primal part of her keened for him, attracted to the sheer power he wielded, and she swallowed and shook her head, banishing her mind of embarrassing thoughts of good genetic material.

MC had originally come looking for Kenshin to tell him to take a break, but had quickly become distracted by how beautiful her lover was, completely in his element with Himezuru Ichimonji in hand. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. A trickle of sweat ran down the back of her neck, making her shiver, and she knew it wasn’t just from the heat. It didn’t help that he was topless, the sleeves of his kimono pulled down to drape against his hakama. Every swing of his sword brought new coils of muscle into focus, the parts of his body moving in perfect sync through years of training and battle.

Her eyes followed a drop of sweat as it ran down his back, following the chiseled lines of his trapezius and spine. His skin wasn’t flawless - the pale expanses of his back and chest were littered with pearly scar tissue, some nearly faded while others shimmered in the sunlight - and her heart ached a little at the thought of what he had put himself through to earn so many. She knew, however, that he wore the marks like regalia, symbols of his prowess and battlefield dominance as the God of War.

MC startled a little as mismatched eyes finally settled on her, pinning her in place with their differing colors and identical heat. Kenshin’s muscles rippled as he performed another slice that cut a leaf fluttering in the breeze in half, his eyes sending a silent signal as he did, and the intention behind his movements became unmistakable. He was trying to impress her, woo her, to make her melt so all she could think of was him, him, him...not that he really needed to anyway.

Satisfied at having her undivided attention, he performed another few swings, the air separating with a series of whooshes beneath his blade. A final turn brought him to face her and she swallowed at the image staring her down. Sweat dripped down his arm as he lowered his sword, the heaving of his chest as he panted bringing her attention to his chiseled abs and pecs, and his eyes. Kenshin’s eyes were so heated they rivaled the summer heat, dark with sinful intent as he took one step closer then another, prowling towards her.

Each breath became more of a struggle as he approached, never breaking eye contact once. It was like her body was forgetting how to function under his intensity. She didn’t realize she’d stopped breathing completely until a tightness in her chest forced her to inhale slowly, as if afraid to alert him to her presence. Kenshin stopped a few feet away, looking up at her from his place amongst the carefully manicured flowers and bushes. The raised floor of the hallway gave her a good foot of height on him, but she still felt like the prey here, her handsome predator staring at her like he would pounce at any moment. She had to admit, she would be lying if she said it didn’t excite her. He knew exactly what kind of effect he was having on her right now and he was enjoying it if the smirk she noticed pulling at the corner of his lips was anything to go by.

Yes, he was very satisfied with himself.

Swallowing, she summoned what little stability she had left to speak coherently. “I-I was wondering what you were doing out here.”

He hummed, an enticing purr that she could feel in her bones. MC doubted she would ever fully comprehend the depths of Kenshin’s effect on her, just as she would never know how she enraptured him in return.

“Practicing. Why? Is there something else you need me for?”

Her already warm face grew hotter at the implication in his tone, and she had to avert her gaze from the suggestive raise of his pale brow. Normally, she would play along with his game, turning to putty in his lovingly molding hands as she let him worship her with whispered promises against flushed, sensitive skin, but today felt different. Today she wanted to play with him, have him begging for her as she loved him slowly. She wanted him to get a taste of how desperate he made her.

“Not really,” she answered, giving him the most nonchalant look she could muster. “I think Sasuke was looking for you. Something about installing more crawl spaces in the ceiling. I’m going to get back to work now.” With that she turned on her heel and strode back down the hallway, not looking back to see his expression.

His little performance had charmed her, that was for certain, but that didn’t mean she had to give in to him every time. Kenshin could come get what he wanted from her outright...is what she thought at least. In reality, MC hadn’t taken more than a dozen paces before she was swept off her feet and pinned against the wall, a hot mouth dominating hers as an even hotter body pressed flush against her own.

Kenshin’s tongue quickly found its way between lips parted in surprise, tangling with her own in a passionate dance of frustration and unrestrained lust. He swallowed her soft moan, answering with his own deeper croon. “Lies,” he hissed when the need for air became too prominent. “You need me. I can feel it.”

“Do I?” she shot back innocently, trying and failing to restrain the tiny smirk that pulled at the corner of her lips. “I think I’m okay right now.”

A snarl tore from him as he hefted her over his shoulder, thundering down the hall as he headed towards their shared room. Briefly, she wondered if she’d just bitten off more than she could chew, but a second later she was landing on a futon with a god of a man kissing the living daylights out of her.

“Admit that you want me,” he purred, leaving a burning trail in his wake as he trailed kisses down her jaw to her neck. MC mewled when his mouth attached to her skin, biting and sucking in what was sure to be quite the hickey later on. His hands went to her obi, pulling at it until it loosened around her waist enough that he could pull her kimono open, and his mouth left several more marks on her neck, in places that she wouldn’t be able to cover easily, before traveling downwards to lap at her collarbones.

Still, despite how good it felt and how much she wanted to moan and cry for him, her lips remained firmly shut, much to her lover’s displeasure. Clicking his tongue, Kenshin pulled away from her to undo the last ties holding his hakama around his hips and she averted her eyes as the clothing rustled to the floor, biting her lip.

“Look at me,” he husked, his body settling on top of hers and his hands pinning her above her head as she writhed beneath him. “Look at how much you affect me.”

The heat of his naked body on top of hers only stoked the fire in the pit of her stomach and she almost gave in and spoke the words she knew he wanted to hear. Instead, she bit her lip and dug her fingernails into her palm, trying to ground herself as his erection rutted against her clothed core, his hips settling between her legs.

She cried out when his hand grabbed a breast, rolling the soft flesh in his palm as his mouth attached to the nipple of the other. Her hands strained against his strong hold, desperate to tangle her fingers in his pale hair as he bit and sucked, rolling her nipple between his fingers. Kenshin’s moans against the sensitive flesh only made it worse, his eyelashes tickling her skin as he closed his eyes in rapture at her taste.

Releasing her wrists, he wrapped an arm around her waist, his teeth and tongue continuing to lavish her breasts while his other hand ghosted down her body. Fingers trailed up her calf, pushing her kimono apart, before tickling across the supple flesh of her inner thigh. MC shuddered when his hand cupped her through her undergarments, rubbing her through the cloth barrier.

“So wet for me already,” he chuckled, kissing the spot above her racing heart as his skillful fingers pulled the cloth away and exposed her to the heated air. “I know your body better than my own, my love.” Yet Kenshin refused to touch what was his, leaving her to whine helplessly as his hand stroked her thigh. She tried tilting her hips in a way that would bring his fingers into contact with where she needed them most, but they danced away as he chuckled at her desperation.

“I’ll give you what you want,” he husked, “but first you have to answer my question. Why deny me, love?”

“I-ahh!” Her answer cut off on a cry as a finger brushed teasingly against her clit, her head thrown back as her body shuddered.

“Go on,” he purred against her throat, sucking at her pulse point.

“You have me wrapped around your finger,” MC managed, biting her lip. He made a curious noise and she continued, “I’m so in love with you, it practically only takes a smile from you to bring me to my knees. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who’s this desperate.”

Kenshin was silent for a heartbeat, and she wondered if he’d understood, if he was angry, until teeth dug into the juncture of her neck and shoulder and he pinched her clit hard. Her back arched and she cried out as his tongue laved against the shell of her ear, his breath fanning against the sensitive area as he spoke.

“That’s where you’re wrong. You see…” A long finger slipped smoothly inside of her, parting her velvet walls as it curled in a come hither motion. Gasping at the intrusion, she ground her hips against his hand as he thrust the finger in and out of her. She could cry it felt so good, partially relieving the ache that had begun to build from the moment she’d seen him in the courtyard.

When he pulled away from her neck to gaze down at her, her eyes widened at the sheer yearning in his expression. His pale cheeks were colored a beautiful red, lips parted around husky pants, and eyes hazed by lust and need. “I’m always desperate for you,” he moaned, hips rutting against her leg in time with his finger. The bare cock humping against her thigh only served to make her wetter and she whimpered as a second finger joined the first within her. “So many times, when I caught another man looking at you, I just wanted to bend you over in front of everyone and show them who you belong to.”

The feral possessiveness in his voice made her core squeeze around his fingers and he groaned in her ear, the deep sound sending shivers down her spine. Kenshin’s gaze left her face to peer at where his fingers still plunged inside of her relentlessly and she briefly wondered what he was thinking as an amused smile curled at the corners of his lips.

“But…” Flipping their positions, he settled her on top of him, and MC blinked down at him as he smirked expectantly and said, “I’ll let you do as you wish. Show me I’m yours.”

It took her a second to realize the extent of his words, but once she did a flustered blush broke across her cheeks and down her neck. It wasn’t as if they had never been in this position before, but it had never lasted long, Kenshin’s insatiable hunger quickly taking control. She wasn’t about to let that happen so easily this time though. No, if he wanted her to show him he belonged to her then that’s exactly what she would do.

Feeling his erection prod her dripping core, she rolled her hips down against him and pushed him back so he was lying flat on the futon. Kenshin moaned, the deep sound music to her ears, and his hands moved to her hips, grinding her harder even as his hips bucked up into her. She could feel him trying to aim himself inside of her but evaded each thrust, his cock slipping through her heat over and over.

MC could tell he was starting to become exasperated by it, brow pinching and breath coming in short pants as he tried and failed to impale her on his cock with each upward thrust. “Let me in,” he demanded, teeth gritting. A particularly intimate roll of her hips had his head falling back beautifully and she took advantage of the pale, exposed column of his throat, leaning forward so she lay with her breasts pressed against his chest as her fingers flicked his nipples.

“How badly do you want me?” she murmured against his ear, leaving her own marks on his neck as she kissed and nipped.

“So badly that if you don’t sit on my cock right now I can’t be held accountable for my actions,” he growled back.

“Hmm? I thought you said I could do what I want?” Another roll of her hips made him hiss, the head of his cock catching on her entrance before slipping away again. Kenshin’s grip on her hips tightened, and she knew he could easily hold her still enough to thrust into her, but he didn’t.

“You can,” he grunted, “but I��m so hard it hurts.” The angle of his grinds changed and she gasped at the sudden stimulation against her clit, arching her chest against his as he looked up at her through half-lidded eyes. “Please, I need you. Let me be inside of you.”

His begging made something release inside of her and MC suddenly felt so empty, like she would implode if she didn’t have him that instant. Reaching between them, she wrapped her fingers around his cock, feeling the velvety firmness throb under her palm, and coaxed it into position against her entrance. Both of them moaned in relief as her hips sunk down on him, her core welcoming the intrusion as it sucked him deeper into the comfort of her warmth.

“That’s it,” he grunted as she took him in deeper. “Just like that. Such a good girl. You feel so good.”

After making love with Kenshin for so long she needed little time to adjust to his impressive length and began to roll her hips, her pace increasing with a little coaxing and directing from him. He leaned up to capture her lips in a messy kiss as she bounced on top of him, moaning as a hand dove into the hair at the back of her head, effectively holding her in place as he devoured her mouth.

A purposeful squeeze of her inner muscles received a violent buck from him in return, nails digging into her skin as he grunted, “Do that again and you'll regret it.”

She giggled softly, pressing her lips to his neck as she continued to work him in and out of her tight heat, his praises encouraging her to move against him harder, faster. She squeaked when his hands grabbed her ass hard, forcing himself deeper into her as a muscle jumped in his neck.

“So close, ahh...Keep going...keep going, just like that. Yes, yes, yes,” his voice deepened with pleasure and she watched his beautiful eyes close in bliss, lips parted and head tilted back. So enraptured by how angelic he looked in the throws of passion, MC didn’t notice the hand that slipped between them until it was too late, an unexpected push to her clit drawing a scream from her throat as her core clenched hard around him, her sudden climax knocking the breath out of her.

She heard him grunt something about how tight she was before a pleasured moan vibrated through his chest and his release painted her walls white, warmth shooting deep inside of her and making her shiver against him.

He held her still as he continued to thrust up into her shallowly, working his seed deeper into her, and the aftershocks made her whimper. All she wanted to do was curl up against him and bask in the afterglow of their lovemaking, but it seemed Kenshin had other ideas, a hungry glint in his eyes as he peered down at her, limp against his chest.

“We’re not finished yet,” he panted.

MC had just enough time to gasp before she was suddenly flipped over onto the futon, a god humping his still-hard cock between her legs and his mouth sucking at her breast. She cried out from the sudden overstimulation, the engorged head of his cock hitting her swollen clit as his length slipped through her soaked heat, drenching himself in their combined releases as it dripped from her.

“Please, Kenshin,” she cried, arms wrapping around his back to pull him closer as her legs instinctively moved to wrap around his hips. Despite having just climaxed, she wanted more, needed more of him, never having enough of this man who had devoted himself to her so wholeheartedly.

“What is it?” he murmured in her ear, “Say it and I’ll give you everything you want and more.”

“Fuck me, please!” she cried, eyes closed tight against the tears of pleasure that blurred her vision. “I’m all yours! I need you! Only you!” She would never know how much he adored hearing those words, how they made every part of his body and soul sing with delight and pride, how they made him want to prove it to her over and over and over again until everyone knew that she was his and he was hers and anyone that challenged that would meet his wrath.

Grabbing her legs and throwing them over his shoulders, he speared into her, making her scream as her sensitive core spasmed around him. Stars danced across her vision as Kenshin immediately set an inhumane pace and all she could do was hang on for the ride. Through her half-lidded gaze, she could see how beautiful he looked like this, porcelain cheeks flushed with need and blue and green eyes hazed with desire as he panted like a wild beast, claiming her animalistically.

A calloused hand grabbed one of her bouncing breasts roughly and she mewled as he pinched her nipple, twisting and pulling as he continued to rut into her. “Scream for me more,” he ordered, voice low and dangerous. “Tell me who you belong to again, loud enough that the whole castle can hear you.”

Maybe MC would be embarrassed by it later but all she cared about right now was fulfilling that order, of letting him know how good he was making her feel. “Kenshin!” she screamed, begging for more. “Please- ahh! -keep going! Don’t...Don’t stop! It feels-ngh! S-So good!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She sobbed when he suddenly pulled out without warning, the absence leaving her feeling unbearably empty. Flipping her over onto all fours, Kenshin grabbed her hips and sheathed himself inside of her dripping core once more. A cry broke from her lips at the depth he reached with the new position, his fingers digging into her skin as her tight walls squeezed him. Hot lips graced her shoulders as he leaned over her, his chest meeting her back as he moaned wantonly in her ear. “You’re so tight, my love. Your body wants me so badly.” A shudder wracked her form as he pulled back for a hard thrust, resuming his previous pace.

It was all too much for her. With each thrust, she felt his cock kiss her cervix, sending shockwaves through her overstimulated body. The pain it brought melded with the pleasure, her hands fisting in the futon and her face pressed into the sheets as she cried out for him until her throat was raw and all she could think of was her lover’s name.

As for Kenshin, each thrust felt like heaven, his balls slapping against her ass as he firmly reestablished his claim over her. It was getting increasingly harder to pull out, her walls clamping down on him and threatening to send him over the edge and milk him for all he was worth at any moment. His hands shifted from their grip on her waist, one grabbing her breast while the other snaked between her legs, circling her clit teasingly. “Do you want to come?” he panted in her ear, jaw clenching on a particularly tight thrust.

“Yes! Yes, please, Kenshin!”

He chuckled breathlessly, closing his eyes and burying his face against her shoulder. “Then come.”

His fingers pressed down on her clit hard as his other hand pinched her nipple and the stimulation sending her into her second climax of the evening. His name tore from her on a scream as he growled his release into her skin, teeth lodging in her shoulder as her walls squeezed around him like a vice.

Kenshin’s hips continued to move throughout his orgasm, drawing out both their pleasure as he released inside of her again and found absolute bliss in her body. Her whole body felt wrapped in his intense heat, beads of sweat rolling down her skin as her lover held her weak body against his in an iron grip.

His body slumped on top of hers as they slowly calmed down from their high, his warmth seeping around where he was still buried inside of her. Kissing her shoulder, Kenshin rolled her onto her side, sweaty body curling around hers. Even though it was so hot, the heat of his body didn’t bother her in the slightest, making her feel loved and protected as he held her close.

“Have I convinced you of how desperate I am for you?” he husked, brushing strands of hair away from her forehead as he littered her face with soft kisses.

“Yeah,” she panted, reaching back to cup his face in her palm. Turning her head to look back at him, MC placed a tender kiss against his cheek. “I love you, Kenshin.”

He smiled dazzlingly as he nuzzled his face into her hair, replying, “I love you more.”

Closing her eyes, she smiled, enjoying his ministrations as his fingers started kneading her pleasantly tired body. “Mmm, I don’t know. I really love you a lot. It’s kind of crazy how much.”

“Want to bet?” he offered, his hands massaging her bruised hips.

“Actually, I think I need a bath.” A slight squeeze of her inner muscles around his limp cock had him gasping as you looked back at him, smirking. “Care to join me?”

He licked his lips, heat and hunger already alight in his blue and green eyes. “It would be my pleasure.”

#ikemen #ikemen series #ikemen x reader #cybird #otome #otome x reader #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikemen sengoku x reader #ikemen sengoku kenshin #ikesen kenshin #ikemen sengoku kenshin uesugi x reader #fervor (kenshin uesugi x mc)#romance #smut #ikemen kenshin

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youllallriseintheink · 3 years

Text

A Worthwhile Investment, chapter 3

Please enjoy this Grant x Shawn story. Yes, I split it into two short chapters. Apparently I can’t be succinct with these two... hopefully I made the right choice!

Next is Thomas x Allison!

Time went by. The studio worsened in most respects. Though its installation was nothing out of the ordinary, it felt as though the ink machine was creeping through the halls, its long pipes growing into new areas. Wherever it went, it left the scent of sickly rubber ink and stained through the walls, like a creeping, musty black mold. That alone would have brought down morale, but it was nothing compared to the financial crisis. Every department was operating on a slashed budget, and yet Joey refused to lower his demands on any of them. Whenever someone quit out of anger, there was relief- it meant that those who remained would be less likely to be laid off. The studio was a rotting body, ravaged by the parasite of the ink machine and struggling to move its massive weight now that so many of its workers were gone.

Grant was not handling it well. His department understood that it the studio’s financial problems weren’t his fault, but he didn’t blame anyone else for hating the man who had decided how much to slash their budget, or who told them, while they were already underpaid, that their paycheck would be late because there simply was no money to pay them. It was his job to prevent this from happening. But with Joey spending more and more on Bendyland and the ink machine, and refusing to downsize anything when it was really overdue to do so, it was proving impossible. It was soul-crushing.

Things weren’t easy on Shawn, either. Fewer staff for the same amount of plushes meant having to work longer and faster, and making plushes out of cheaper materials meant that there was less room for error before the cheap, delicate things they’d been reduced to selling simply fell apart. Shawn was getting screamed at more than usual nowadays.

At least they had each other. During better times, their relationship had been on and off. There were periods when one of them just couldn’t handle the other’s issues or couldn’t handle being in a relationship at the moment, and they’d break up, only to get back together after a while. Shawn had even dated other people during their temporary breaks. Neither of them were especially serious about their relationship, so it worked for them. Now, they were together for the foreseeable future. There was little time or energy for romance anymore, but they stole the moments they could and hoped that things would eventually improve. Shawn had even moved into Grant’s house at the time. This was good for both of them- living with someone else made things easier domestically during this busy time, and it was good to come home from a difficult day at work and meet up with someone who loved you and brightened your mood.

“Ah think we should quit,” Shawn said one day over dinner. “None-a this is healthy. I’m sick of it, you certainly ain’t yourself, and anyhow, yer always saying the company won’t last another year.” Shawn saw Grant hesitate. “Well, Ah’m quitting. Join me or don’t, Ah don’t care.”

“I have a feeling that things will improve once Bendyland opens. It’s supposed to open in three months,” well, it was supposed to open over a year ago, but hopefully they could reach the new deadline, “so, let’s see where the studio is in five months. If we’re not having a much better time at work by then, let’s do it. Or you can quit sooner- please, don’t let me hold you back. But that’s when I’m doing it.”

“Five months sounds great! I’ll mark it on the calendar. To a chance at a better life!”

Grant forced a smile. “To a chance at a better life.” He honestly wished Shawn would just quit so that he didn’t feel like he was holding him back.

There were a few reasons that Grant didn’t want to quit. It wasn’t about money (he had some saved up), or fear that he couldn’t get another job (he had the experience to land another). Mostly, it was about pride. Grant might be the financial manager of a failing massive company, but still, he was the finances manager of a massive company- with a department working under him and his own secretary. This could be the highest-profile job he would ever have. He also worried that the next job would be just as miserable. He recognized, though, that he couldn’t stay in an awful work environment for those reasons, let alone keep Shawn in one. And no matter what, the studio would be dead in a few years, so he’d have to leave it eventually. And heck- maybe Shawn was right. Maybe it would be better.

---

It was while Grant was walking down one of the Joey Drew Studios hallways that it happened, though it had seemed rather insignificant at the time. A burly, blond GENT worker deliberately loosened a bolt on one of the ink pipes as he passed, spraying a cloud of ink fumes into his face.

“That’s for getting my buddy laid off,” the man grumbled as Grant coughed on the fumes.

“Hey!” another GENT worker, shouted, “pull another stunt like that, and you’ll be the one leaving for good!” The GENT worker ran over to Grant. “You alright, sir? I can pay for the dry cleaning if you want.”

“Don’t bother,” Grant snapped, “just teach your men some respect.”

Grant looked down at his thoroughly stained suit and dress shirt and weighed whether to arrive at his next meeting late or drenched. He decided on the former and turned for the exit. As he left, he heard one of the GENT men telling the other, “that’s how you get our budget cut even more!” It was rather strange to be such a frightening creature nowadays.

By evening, Grant was feeling sick- as though he had a flu coming on. He spent a few days laying around before returning to work, feeling just as badly. He couldn’t afford more time off if he didn’t want to end up entirely buried by work. Shawn was mildly concerned when it was a few weeks in and the illness didn’t seem to be going away- and that Grant was intent on working through it- but all he could do was support Grant through it and give him the space he needed. Even in the beginning, it was extremely frustrating that his boyfriend was suffering and unable to do much of anything outside of work, but to an extent it was nothing Shawn wasn’t used to- Grant had had bouts of depression nearly as bad as this. As time went on, Shawn noticed some more disturbing changes.

It was about two weeks in that the voice emerged and the hallucinations began. Grant had been in his office when he’d heard a pained scream- seemingly from right outside of it. He rushed out, expecting to see an injured person or an emergency of some sort. Instead, he found only his secretary, perfectly calm and looking at him as though he was an alien. “Do you know where that came from?” Grant asked.

“Where what came from?” Oh, that judgmental stare.

“The scream? You heard the scream, right?”

“No.”

Grant cringed and closed the door to his office.

The headaches, the brain fog, the fatigue, and now the hallucinations, a voice said. It was a voice that sounded as real as the scream had, but it wasn’t one he’d heard before. Do you want to know what’s causing it? There was a pause, as though Grant would answer and let his secretary think even worse of him. You’re losing your mind. You know what they do with crazy people, right? An image of an electric chair flashed through Grant’s mind, followed by an image of locked insane asylum doors and tools used for a lobotomy. Just carry on. Try to act normal, and don’t let anyone know about this. I’ll be here when you need me. Grant sat back down at his desk, taking a look around the room as though he could find where the voice was coming from. Finding nothing, he returned to his paperwork.

A few weeks later, Grant decided to coax some answers from the voice. It was absurd- if it was right, and it probably was, the voice came from him, and couldn’t know anything he didn’t. But he had few options. His symptoms were becoming glaringly obvious. Shawn had noticed that he was spacing out during conversations, and his department was noticing that he couldn’t keep track of time and was making mathematical errors he never would have before. Shawn had even seen him react to hallucinations a couple times, and it frightened him. Grant knew he needed to figure this out before it hurt his professional life, or hurt his relationship any further.

It was a cold winter’s night. Grant returned home after work- thankfully Shawn wasn’t home yet- and went to his room to interrogate.

“Alright,” he said, facing the wall. “Tell me what I have. If there’s a way to fix it, I’m going to.”

Shawn had been unable to sleep that night, so he heard Grant’s voice. It didn’t bother him, though, until Grant started yelling. Shawn got up and went to investigate. The house was totally dark except for the light coming from Grant’s room. Shawn creaked open the door. Grant was facing a wall, shifting his weight as though he might spring on his invisible adversary if it proved necessary.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #shawn x grant #shawn flynn #grant cohen #my fanfiction

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thepaperpanda · 4 years

Text

Halloween one shots - Uncharted edition

Summary: two very short stories written for upcoming Halloween.

Warnings: None

Words: 1635

Authors: Cass & Rouge

You remembered how you said you wanted to just spend halloween at home with your boyfriend. Without others lurking around through a mansion you're living in.

When Rafe was gone, you had the place entirely for yourself, which meant you could do whatever you wanted, as long as it didn't include devastating the property.

Despite the fact in the house you couldn't find any proper materials, you decided that Rafe will be welcomed with cheerful and resourceful Halloween decorations, no matter how much effort it will cost.

Setting everything around the mansion took you almost a week, with a little help from servants. Soon, a spooky skeleton dressed in a suit with a hat on stood in Rafe's office, right next to his wooden desk. You also used twigs, moss and fake spiderwebs to decorate it, as well as the staircase.

Carved pumpkins also stood on the floors along the corridors, having little candles ignited in them.

-------------------------

Rafe saw plenty of Halloween decorations in storefronts on his way home.

He didn't pay much attention to them.

Halloween was childish to him. All the silly, scary costumes, decorations and trick-or-treating. Stupid reason for kids to bother him every year. Stupid brats thought that if their parents bought them 300$ costumes that they are something special.

Rafe was more than happy to return home. He missed you and his bed, not to mention a mix of both. He was a horny bastard after those two weeks without you.

Adler returned home late. Really fucking late but he still had some minor stuff to take care of. After taking his coat off and leaving it in a hallway, Rafe went to his office.

It was fucking dark. All he could see was a person-like shape standing right next to the window.

Raising an eyebrow, he switched on the light and looked at the fake skeleton.

"I hope it’s Drake's and not some cheap shit she had gotten on sellout,” he muttered unamused with the decoration.

You were aware of his return, so you went downstairs to greet him. Frowning you found out that his coat was hung on a hanger, yet there was no Rafe in the sight. You tapped your nose, thinking.

You decided to check within one room he was using frequently - his office.

Rafe looked up as soon as he heard the door open. "I assume you are the one that put that crap into my office,” he muttered resting his chin on his hand.

You nodded eagerly at first. “Yes! He does look cute, doesn’t he?!,” you clapped your hands and walked to the skeleton to improve its hat. “Oh, and by the way, hi,” you turned to Rafe and leand forward to place a brief kiss on his cheek. “I missed you and decided to decorate the mansion while you’re gone,” you claimed proudly.

"First of all, why? And who the hell let you use my clothes?," Rafe asked with a frown.

You shrugged a little while bending your butt against his desk. “I just thought you’ll be gone for a little longer, so I decided to make something like a substitute of your presence here, maybe just in a more funny way though,” you informed him while playing with the edge of your dress. “Just don’t get me wrong, I don’t think you’re fossilized nor something like that, no. I just thought I could merge this with upcoming Halloween. And I let myself use your clothes. Don’t be mad with me.”

"I am mad. You live here for three years now. Have you ever seen me celebrating this bullshit!?," He growled looking at you. "You better remove my expensive clothes off that shit and take it out from my office."

“But, honey!,” you gasped, “Why? I spent hours preparing all this. I put my heart into preparing decorations, baking your favourite pumpkin muffins,” you counted. “Why are you expecting me to leave my little customs behind?”

"I don't like pumpkin muffins," he said, crossing arms over his chest. "Just as much as I hate this shitty holiday or whatever it's called. Get this outta my office or it will fly through the window."

You lowered your head and let out a sigh. “Okay, as you wish, dear,” informing him, you walked to the skeleton you’d already named Valentino and picked him up with a loud gasp.

Rafe sighed deeply seeing your sadness. "Okay, he can stay. Just really, take this expensive suit off. Take my old trousers and t-shirt."

He couldn't bear the sight of your sadness, so maybe keeping that particular decoration and every other you prepared was a good idea. For your well-being at least.

You stopped and turned your head slightly to look at your boyfriend. “You mean it? Like, really really?,” You asked, blinking.

Rafe nodded. "As long as your bony friend isn't taking my expensive clothes, this let’s say installation can stay."

You put Valentino back on his place and walked to Rafe, quickly taking place on his comfortable lap, wrapping arms around his neck. “You’re kind when you want to be,” you reminded him, nudging his shoulder a little. Your hands then cupped his face and held it in place when you leaned forward to kiss him passionately. “I’m glad you’re back and that I’ll have you by my side on the spooky, upcoming night! I hope you’ll be my protector.”

Rafe hummed deeply. "I can protect you all night in our bed. Just you and me between your legs," he said and wrapped his arms around you before getting up with you.

“Rafael Adler, you were cute but you had to destroy it with your ambiguity of course!,” You chuckled softly and kissed his temple. “I’ll think whether you deserve the prize or not.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam frowned looking at the rubber mask of the werewolf. It wasn't something he was looking for but he got a good idea how to use it this one time.

He hummed and looked through the shop alleys until he found you in the candy section. After all you both came here to stock up on candies for kids and for both of you.

You wearing a red dress only gave him more ideas.

Putting on the werewolf mask Sam sneaked behind you. He was good at this so why not to use that skill.

Sam grabbed your hips pulling you tightly against his chest.

"Would you look at that! Big Bad Wolf got his little Red Riding Hood!"

You let out a loud squeak, which caused few people to look in your direction. You instantly put your hand over your mouth and gasped. “Sorry! I didn’t expect this! Don’t scare me!”

You turned your head slightly and looked at Sam’s mask, which made you scream once more. “Drake, you old bastard!”

"I am the Big Bad Wolf! And I will eat you!," He growled and picked you up. "Unless the wolf will get a kiss."

You hummed and shook your head. “No, you won’t get a kiss. I don’t know whether you had your rabies vaccination,” you chuckled at your own words.

"Oh don't be such a Snow Queen. I had my rabies vaccination, because there is a prince under that fur. So?," Sam hummed, smiling under the mask.

You leaned forward to reach nis exposed neck where you placed a kiss. “Then I can agree. I want to have the prince only for myself. I demand it. But now, put me down, people are staring!”

"And that's how the Little Red Riding Hood removed the curse from the prince," Sam said and removed the mask. "I don't know if I will put you down. Why should I?"

“I’m a little girl that doesn’t like to be lifted up, not counting some particular situations of course,” you smiled. “Put me down, my prince. I need to buy some candies for our subjects for the upcoming fest.”

Sam thought for a moment and nodded. "Okay. I will but you will do something for me and only then I will put you down."

You wrapped arms around his neck to support yourself from falling. “What is this?”

"We will buy those matching pirate couple costumes" Sam asked happily. He knew you hated that idea from the start but maybe this was the right moment to get them.

You rolled your eyes but nodded in the end. “We will, pinky promise.”

"Yes!" Sam said loudly, getting other people's attention again. He kissed you quickly and put you down. "C'mon! They are in a different alley," Sam almost sang, pulling you behind.

You followed him, gathering packs of candies you had prepared before. When you two got to the point, you checked the costumes out and hummed, thinking. “I need to admit that they look cool. Pity that lady costume covers less than it shows.”

"Every captain needs his sexy lady," Sam said, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Besides, we can always use them for some roleplay in the bedroom after halloween."

As the blush crept onto your lips, you smirked wryly at him. “So, are you a captain, a bad wolf or a prince? Make up your mind, handsome.”

"I am everything to you. Just as you are to me," Sam explained with a shrug.

You reached out and stroked his bearded cheek. “I love you. But we gotta get to the checkout now as I’m having a lot of work at home yet, gotta make pumpkin pie, gotta prepare decorations and carve the pumpkins.”

Sam nodded. "Okay. I can't wait to get a slice of that pie." When he started walking toward the checkout, you slightly spanked his butt in fitted jeans. “If you’ll help me then I’ll consider getting you some,” you informed Sam. “Move up, move up, Mister Pirate.”

#Rafe Adler #Sam Drake #rafe adler x reader #sam drake x reader #Rafe Adler fanfic #Sam Drake fanfic #Rafe Adler fic #Sam Drake fic #uncharted 4 #uncharted 4 the thief's end #uncharted 4 fic #reader insert #writers on tumblr #fic rec

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frodos-bizarre-adventure · 3 years

Text

@gingerreggg just some fluff

Heads Up- Part 12 (Joseph x Bust!Caesar)

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

"Are you ready to go out?" Suzi asked Caesar, as he sat atop the kitchen table.

"Really?" he replied skeptically. "I thought you didn't want anyone to see me?"

"And that's why we've got this!" Joseph exclaimed joyfully as he pranced into the room with a small carrying crate. It was quite lightweight, and across the top of one side a narrow, horizontal slit had been cut into the hard cardboard material, to function as a viewing window.

Caesar felt uneasy, somewhat queasy to the stomach if he'd had one. This was the first time he'd see the world, beyond the confines of Joseph's apartment. Well, of course, aside from that one escapade, but he didn't really get far.

"You really mean it?" he said nervously.

"Look, if you're gonna go bouncing away at night to see the world then I thought I'd let you have in on the fun with the two of us! We picked a nice place, I bet you'll love it." Joseph smiled, as he lifted Caesar off the table and gently into the box, fitting him perfectly with just a little bit of room to spare. "Just remember to be very quiet."

"Joseph," Caesar complained, as he was laid snugly into the box. "You cut the view-hole too high."

"Aw shit," Joseph groaned. "I should have measured."

Fortunately it wasn't a problem a few layers of newspaper couldn't solve, and with some cushioning beneath his neck the peeping hole was perfectly level with Caesar's eyes.

"That should do the trick," Joseph huffed, as he gently covered Caesar with the lid.

"And now...it's time," grinned the sculptor, as he carried his created companion, tucked safely into the box, out into the warm light of late afternoon.

--------

Joseph mostly got around town, and to and from the university, in his trusty old bicycle he'd gotten as a birthday present from his uncle Speedwagon. It had seen better days, but still served him well, especially after he installed a small sidecar so he could carry his art along with him on the way.

"This is fun!" Suzi cheered, as Joseph pedaled along down toward the beach-view that he and Suzi had agreed on earlier.

"Just don't let go of me!" Caesar cried, from inside the box. He laid upon her lap as she sat in the sidecar, and each time she raised her hands in excitement the hapless bust feared he might fall off.

But at the same time, as he peeked out of the narrow slit, Caesar felt a strange elation.

He was seeing the world beyond.

Buildings, cars, streets and people rushed by, illuminated in the orange light of sunset, as Joseph came pedaling along, so quickly that Caesar couldn't keep up with seeing them all. There was just such a big, big place to see, and with a little help, Caesar was going much, much further than he could possibly hop by himself.

Caesar smiled, a hidden smile from within his box that no one could see.

Perhaps it was far nicer to see the world with friends.

Perhaps he didn't have to be alone.

And yet, at the same time, Caesar felt a hint of sorrow as he admired the sun-kissed landscape gleaming in its tangerine illumination. There was a vast world out there, full of people, full of experiences, of stories in the making waiting to be told.

And he knew he could never be a part of it.

--------

"We're here!" Joseph said excitedly, as he halted near the parkway by the beach.

"And look!" Suzi exclaimed. "We're just in time for the sunset!"

"I can't see!" Caesar complained. "Get me out of this box!"

Dismounting from the sidecar, Suzi stood up and with Joseph's help, removed Caesar from the box, after glancing around to make sure nobody was around to witness them unloading their unusual cargo.

Caesar couldn't believe his eyes. They were at a quiet little corner of the beach, with the floor a smooth, wooden viewing deck. Beyond him was a view of the ocean, stretching all the way into the horizon, and hovering just above it was a brilliant orange orb whose rays Caesar felt onto his clay skin for the first time in his newfound life.

"So, what do you think?" Joseph asked as he gently laid Caesar down onto the deck, and sat cross-legged next to him.

"It's...it's beautiful," gasped Caesar in pure amazement, as he made a few hops forward.

"Whoa, easy there, Cae," Joseph cautioned. "Try not to fall in the water, I doubt you can swim," he said with a snarky laugh.

Caesar nodded, but was too absorbed in the splendor of it all to heed Joseph's dry wit. He could smell the refreshing salty breeze, feel the warmth of the descending sun, hear the waves and the wind and the calls of the birds. Just like the one time he'd left the house, except this time, Joseph wasn't trying to stop him.

And never before, in his short existence as a bodiless sculpt of clay, had Caesar felt so free.

Joseph shifted himself forward so that he was next to Caesar again. "I thought you'd enjoy this," he said, gently cradling the bust onto his lap.

The sun's rays were fading in warmth, but Joseph's arms felt warmer.

Soon the brilliant orb began to sink into the horizon, fading away into the distant mists as the deep pinks and purples of the sky began to crowd out the oranges and yellows of the sun's final rays. Caesar was awed. It was something that happened every single day, sure, but it was no less of a glorious spectacle to behold.

It wasn't long until the stars began to appear.

A few bright points, here and there, gradually emerging from the darkening sky. There were scarcely any clouds, to Joseph's delight, and soon, the night had come: enveloping them in a calm, peaceful darkness lit by the thousands of glittering pinpricks up above.

"Caesar," Joseph said softly. "Look."

He laid down onto his back on the wooden floor, after he took the newspapers from Caesar's box and gently laid the sculpture's head onto them so that Caesar could also recline comfortably. Side by side, artist and artwork lay down gazing skyward, into the infinite vastness of the night sky above.

"You know, Cae, my grandpa Jonathan used to tell me," Joseph began. "He said that as the night comes it paints over the sky, swiftly and in a rush, leaving a few spots uncolored in its hurry. I'd always thought it was a silly story," he laughed.

Caesar chuckled. "Your grandfather?"

"Yeah..." Joseph sighed, sadly. "I miss him."

"Now it's just Granny Erina and me, and really, just me, after I came to live in my flat. Mom was always away, and I'd never met my dad. But Grandpa Jonathan...he was the best part of my childhood."

He gestured to the sky.

"I like to think he's up there where he belongs, up among the stars. We are Joestars after all," he said with a mix of a laugh and a sigh, gently running his finger over the birthmark on his neck.

One he remembered his grandpa also had, which Joseph imagined was a mark, a promise, perhaps, of where he'd since returned.

There was a moment of silence as Caesar momentarily pondered.

"Do you think I belong among the stars too?" Caesar asked, after a pause.

"Huh?" Joseph turned to look at him. "Why would you think that?"

Caesar gave a melancholy pause.

"Because...because if I really am Anthonio Zeppeli, as Suzi said...shouldn't I be up there? And yet, I am here."

That one word, that had struck Caesar earlier, hit him again.

Purpose.

"I mean, if you really think about how big the universe is, and how small we are to it, it's downright humbling, and a little bit frightening," Joseph mused.

"But we're tiny specks that simply exist, and maybe, we make our own existence worthwhile," he added, stroking Caesar's shoulder stub.

"Then I guess I don't really need a purpose, then," Caesar mumbled, watching the unimaginable vastness twinkle far beyond.

"I mean, do you?" Joseph answered. "You exist for the sake of existing, and that should be enough."

Caesar smiled.

Joseph was right. Why did he have to bother figuring out why he was alive, or who he was, or why he was where he is today?

He was alive today, even though he shouldn't be.

His existence was an unexpected blessing.

He existed for his own sake. And, looking into his sculptor's brilliant blue eyes, mesmerized at the heavens, he thought, perhaps for Joseph's sake too.

"I'm glad you made me, Joseph. Whether or not I really am Anthonio or not. I'm just glad to be here today."

"However way you created me."

Joseph chuckled. "You know what they say, Caesar. Yesterday was history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift."

"That's why they call it present."

Caesar groaned.

"Oh come on, Jojo," he grumbled. "You stole it from that turtle from the panda cartoon."

Joseph burst out a hearty laugh. "So you have been watching the movies Suzi brought, huh?"

"I was bored," Caesar said, embarassed.

Joseph was just glad for the time they were enjoying together, by the beach, under the night sky, with only the glimmer of lamp posts and the now-rising moon lighting the way. It felt peaceful, and very calming, for both weary artist and lonely creation.

He wished they could do this forever.

Just the three of them.

Oh yes, Joseph remembered, three.

"Say, where is Suzi, anyway?" wondered Joseph after a few moments. "We'd gotten too busy with our little talk there... Suzi?"

A faint snore came as the only response.

"Oh great," Caesar moaned, rocking back up into an upright position with a little help from Joseph. "She slept through the whole thing, and this whole trip was her idea."

"You can't blame her," Joseph explained. "She's pretty tired."

He couldn't help a small giggle as he saw Suzi splayed out awkwardly onto the sidecar seat, dozing away like she was on her sofa.

"I think it's time we went home." Joseph said.

Rousing Suzi to make sure she was safe throughout the ride back to Joseph's apartment, the three friends made their way back, Caesar once more tucked inside his box.

As Joseph pedaled home Caesar peeked out at the view of the city through the hole in the box. The city at night looked so different.

Thousands of brilliant lights shone through the darkness, outlining buildings, illuminating streets, marking the passage of cars.

The city's lights were like the stars on the earth.

And in a way, they were among them, after all.

A sudden halt to the gentle motion of the box indicated to Caesar that they'd reached home. Soon he felt himself being lifted back into the house, as Joseph had done the night he snuck out. Yet this time, it didn't feel like a punishment, as it was when Joseph had forced him back inside. It felt like a reward, at the end of a long, grand adventure.

And at the night, Caesar knew he could look forward to end his day with another night in bed lovingly cradled in his beloved maker's arms.

Suzi sleepily staggered her way into the house and flopped onto the couch with a yawn. "Sorry about that, I hope I didn't miss too much," she said to Joseph, a little regretfully.

"Don't worry, Caesar loved it," Joseph reassured her. "We had a little talk."

"Hmmm?" she hummed drowsily.

"Oh, just stuff, about the stars and the world and the niceness of being alive, he had a lot to say." Joseph explained. "Also he's been watching your movies, he gets references," he laughed.

Joseph felt a strange warmth to Caesar that he couldn't quite explain. His feelings had been all over the place since the handsome little piece of clay came into his life. He'd gotten to know him, and he'd come to like him.

He'd come to love him.

And Caesar, sitting close by on the floor, gazing up at his relatively-towering form, felt the same.

He loved him for granting him life. He loved him for the care and affection, and all the numerous things he'd done for him, even if he couldn't return the favor.

And he loved him for just... being Joseph.

Their gazes met, and two shy smiles crept across their faces.

Perhaps Caesar belonged with a certain star after all.

---------

(Previous Chapter)

(Next Chapter)

#jjba #gingerreggg #battle tendency #caejose #caesar x joseph #jojo's bizarre adventure #bust!caesar #sculptor!joseph #hands of life au #heads up

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angelicichor · 4 years

Note

Wait. Requests are open? Fuck yes. Then I request Thomas bending me over stuff and fucking me into next year! Art or words man it don't matter. Its gonna be fantastic either way .My U R G E S are out of this world right now.

U… I like you. I might actually do some more….. F I L T H Y art of Tommy-boy, but I ain’t home now so that’ll have to wait. For now however…

N//SF//W

Thomas being a bit too eager… but in a good way.Female reader for this one… sorry folks.

Enough

Summer has been a bad season in Texas, for obvious reasons - heat, dryness and dust, oh god the dust, it was everywhere, sticking to everybody’s sweat covered bodies, making it unbearable to go shirtless, but also impossible to go with anything more prude on.

In a way you had a hate-love relationship with this season, you’ve always lived in colder places, so the warmth of the sun was murdering you and seeing Charlie with his big ol’ belly pouch and old man tits out, covered in white, untamed chest hair was an ENORMOUS problem, but at the same time tis’ was the season for drinking refrigerated sodas and eating copious amounts of ice cream that Luda Mae made herself and gosh darn it was delicious.

But the most amazing stuff wasn’t any drink or a snack, no, it was the full-blown dinner date that was Thomas, abandoning his usual shirt and tie to don a simple black tank top, that clung to his chest almost perversely, showing off his robust bicep, beautifully shaped triceps, as well some of the powerful muscle of his back, his tan skin glistening with sweat as he bent over a car’s hood, opening it to check what in tarnation was wrong with Hoyt’s sheriff car, the old man being too damn lazy to do it himself, god bless him for that.

With the apron gone you also had a wonderful view of Tommy’s firm legs and thick ass, stretching the material every time he’d bend over to reach inside the machine. It looked so damn squeezable, but you knew better than to interrupt the man at work, knowing that Luda would be over you in a second, scolding you for not working yourself. You loved her, but how could she NOT understand that her son was a god damned gem and you NEEDED to take a closer look at him.

He seemed oblivious to your hungry gaze coming from the porch, unaware how his form made your heart flutter and your gut heat up thinking of all the wonderful things that behemoth could do to you and that fact made you FURIOUS. It’s not like you didn’t try to initiate things either, just every time you tried anything Charlie would bring in some new meat or Luda would need her son to go to the station with her to help unpack some deliveries or Monty needed to be carried off the sun, too tired from the heat to move on his own.

Little to say, you were frustrated, but a chance to take revenge on this beautiful, dark haired bastard was coming and oh so very soon.

The thought brought a devilish grin onto your face, an expression that made Charlie go “You alright, girlie?” above you and you snapped to attention. “Ya lookin’ at my nephew like he the next one in line for dinner.” He laughed and you puffed at him, standing up with a slight blush, dusting off your jeans.“Sorry, sir, just thought of something funny.” you lied and he cocked an eyebrow, not really believing you.“U-huh, sure, darlin’. Ya ready to go into town? Got the money?” he asked and you smiled warmly, lifting your purse up and shaking it slightly. “Good, let’s go.”

With that you almost jumped towards the old pick-up that waited right next to Hoyt’s sheriff car. Not able to resist the urge you took a swing and slapped Tommy’s perked butt, making him rise in shock and hit his head on the metal above him. You laughed, before getting into the truck and closing the door, so he wouldn’t pull you out. He most likely still could, but instead he rolled his eyes, massaging his head and shaking it shortly in disbelief before going back to work.

Once in the town you quickly parted with Hoyt, running to find a decent, still functioning clothes store, a woman on a mission.

Your plan wasn’t enacted until the next morning, however. For once you’ve been happy that Thomas always woke up way before you, leaving you to your own devices. That was his biggest mistake yet.

The day was pleasant, even with the sun shinning down on all of you mercilessly, there was a nice breeze going through, something you all hoped would be there to stay. You were very helpful right from the morning, shining with enthusiasm when told to hang the laundry, feed the chickens in the coop Charlie and Thomas installed some time ago, and then come back to help Luda Mae make some cookies.

And you probably though you were cute, wearing that baby blue summer dress that was just a bit too short to be innocent, with a bow in front, slightly to the side, as well as those stockings that hugged your tight just right, making it look so squeezable, with those flat sandals that made you look just so much shorter and more adorable.

And you’d also think you were being sly, brushing your hand across Tommy’s forearm while passing him on the way to the coop in a rush, as if the chickens were going to escape, or when you heard his boots stop in from of the kitchen entrance and ‘dropped a fork on accident’, bending down with only your back, giving him a peek at your white, frilly underwear, and acting like you totally didn’t mean to lick that batter of the spoon in such a seductive way.

But he knew what you were doing, realized it the moment he has seen your outfit and those hungry eyes you gave him unconsciously, but Thomas was a patient man. He let you play your game, refusing to give in to your advances, so you’d be forced to come to him and ask properly for him to take you, enduring the constant sting of arousal building in his body when he would notice you, going around, completing your tasks, acting like you don’t notice him. He was doing a fine job, too.

That is, until you up and tripped, falling to your knees right before him and looking up at his masked face with those huge, bashful eyes, a blush creeping it’s way onto your cheek.

And Thomas could swear he heard something in his head snap.

You tried to get up, but before you could rise one leg you’ve been swooped up by your neck to met his eyes. There was an anger to them, but it wasn’t what made you shiver, it was the true, unfiltered, primal lust that resonated from them, as well as the sweet smell of hormones and frustration making your head spin and leg pull up slightly, as your hands helped the rest of your body not suffer from the Butcher’s hold.

The next time you blinked, your whole body has been shoved onto the kitchen table, Thomas’ free hand throwing multiple objects onto the floor, creating a lot of noise that made your anxiety spike, but he couldn’t care less, leaning into you, one hand still keeping you in a choke-hold, the other gripping onto your tight, giving it a good, firm squeeze. His forehead pressed onto your lightly, his eyes focused on yours, a small smirk rising on his lips, followed by a hungry lick, delight hitting him hard when you shivered just at his hot breath hitting you.

With a rushed motion he pushed one of your legs away, the other giving way for his muscular tight, pressing onto your heat, you hips bucking against it in reflex, wanting to feel the man’s warmth.

His free hand shifted from your tight to your chest, rising with your heated breaths, stopping at your right tit and massaging it roughly, pinching your nipple the moment it started hardening, a quiet laugh moving his body when you squeaked at the sensation, your hands moving form his forearm to your mouth, pink painting your cheeks. With that the hand holding you down moved, trailing your body down, until it reached your heat, then pressing against it and rubbing it up and down slowly through your already soaked panties, his index finger pressing them in to reach deeper inside you.

Your hands stifled your whimpers and moans as he teased your chest and entrance, seemingly not phased by the fact that anyone could walk in on you two at any second, that Luda Mae was supposed to come back to resume making the baked treats, but you were slowly forgetting about all that too, too focused on how good his hand felt on your covered cunt, how his eyes pierced yours, so close, warning you not to move a muscle if you wanted him to be nice and you feared what would happen if you disobeyed.

Soon enough one of his fingers slid your panties to the side, making you feel vulgar, even more that you already did, exposed to the world on the table, but all the anxiety you felt melted into nothing, as one of his fingers slid inside you, unannounced. It moved slowly, parting your walls and teasing your nerves, making you tremble at the feeling, insides clenching with need, allowing him to please you, even more so when a second one joined, picking up the speed, already making you feel almost full with how thick and rough they were, hitting you exactly where you needed them.

Your trembling fingers kept collecting your sounds of pleasure, hiding your face from him once he lifted his head away from your face, to look down at your squirming form and he wouldn’t have that, leaving your breasts and pulling your hands above your head, your lips pressing in a line as a reaction and you saw the satisfied smile on his face.

A third finger squeezed it’s way inside you, making your head loll back in shock, a weak moan leaving your lips and that was enough for him.

Slowly he pulled his fingers out of you, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness, eyes closing just for a second, just to look back at him with a small pout, silently telling him how rude he was to do something like this to you, but his devilish smile let you know that he didn’t care, bringing his fingers, still covered in your slick to your face with a silent order, to which your lips pressed together in an act of rebellion.

An act that he quickly ruined, pushing his hips against you, spreading your legs further to accommodate his width and making you gasp with the pressure of his hardened erection, still covered with his jeans, on your needy cunt. The moment your lips parted his fingers slid in and his eyes warned you not to bite, so fearfully you obeyed, letting your tongue collect your wetness, with a deep flush on your cheeks.

Finally his fingers retreated, leaving you panting below the giant, eyes closed in shame.

You heard a clack and some shuffling and just seconds later something warm and slick pressed against your entrance, forcing your eyes open, wide in terror as you struggled to get your hands free, but to no avail with Thomas’ hand still holding them down like an iron shackle.

“No, no Tommy!! Somebody will see, please not he--!” ignoring your pleas he shoved himself into you, the power in his thrust making you scream out, moving the table slightly. Your legs pressed up to your chest, spasming slightly, as the thickness of his cock spread you wide, making your muscles tighten, a long whimper escaping your mouth, your body unable to relax around him, your only saving grace being your wetness and you scolded your brain for bringing the phrase “curiosity killed the cat” to your head.

The pull of his hips burned, sending spiking pleasure throughout your whole body, mixed with a hint of pain, and the second thrust was not kinder, again earning him a sweet whimper, as you desperately tried to stay at least a bit quiet, but as his speed slowly picked up, reaching a steady rhythm, making the leftover things on the table clatter, you couldn’t handle being silent anymore. Every time he hit your end, you moaned, screamed, cried for him to go faster, harder, and he happily obliged, making you see stars over and over again, your hands struggling in his grip, body lifting off the table in a fit of pure ecstasy, letting him ravage you, use you however he wanted, you brought this upon yourself, after all, and now you were going to pay dearly for your teasing.

Just as your mind was becoming a mess you heard a crack and panic returned to you, making your walls clench against his dick sharply, making him groan, his free hand pressing onto your hips, hard enough to leave bruises, but you noticed another crack and realized something horrible.

“To---Thomas!!” You screamed and his eyes shoot up to yours, making your skin errupt in goosebumps at just how feral he looked. “Th---The table!! The table’s gonna!!” You warned and he growled, both of his hands lifting you up to his chest, still kept full of him, until he pulled out just to slam you on your belly onto the kitchen counter, kicking the breath right out of your lungs, and plunging right back into you, his furious hands reaching to the walls as he kept himself steady, pounding into you aggresively. One of them pressed your head to the wooden surface, before grabbing your hair and forcing you up and into an arch, the other following to keep you steady by your waist, forced to look him in the eye.

You felt your climax building, quickly and he didn’t protest when your fingers found your swollen clit, circling it furiously, desperate to reach that peak and you saw him smile, his lips mouthing the word “COME” and with your eyes shooting wide open you did, your walls collapsing on his cock in an almost painful manner, but he forced them away, seeking his own release, ridding your orgasm out as you screamed his name repeatedly, only strengthening his desire to destroy you, finding the strength to pound you harder, fuzzing your mind, making you a babbling, begging mess, moaning as your head was slammed back onto the counter and adoring the dizziness that came with the sudden motion.

His fingers digged into your hips, keeping you still and the stutter in his last harsh thrust was the only thing that warned you of his collapse, warm strings of thick come filling you up, making you moan in a higher pitch, your insides twitching against him, reaching another, smaller orgasm alongside his and your body gave out, trembling, shaking, exhausted, whining when he pulled out, cum slowly dripping out of you and onto your oversensitive thighs. He didn’t move you, instead putting his dick back into his boxers and zipping his pants back up, buckling his belt and letting you get up onto your shaking arms before wrapping his strong arms around you, his leather mask pressing onto your neck, so he could kiss it’s nape and you could swear you heard something similar to the words “I win” escape him, but he wouldn’t... Yeah, no, he would and you elbowed his belly weakly in protest, to which he rumbled a laughter, nuzzling into your hair, both of you covered in sweat.

Then again you felt your body being lifted and eased onto his shoulder, your hands shooting back to your skirt to cover your slightly exposed pussy as he carried you out of the room, grabbing one of the already prepared cookies off the counter and biting into it with a cocky smile.

“Tommy!” you heard Hoyt’s voice from the living room and you hoped he couldn’t see you, one of your hands covered however much of your face it could. “Ya done fucking over there, ya bastard?” The old man laughed and the embarrassment of being caught made your shake in Tommy’s grasp, even more so when he just.... NODDED. “Good! Get me some meat when you’re all cleaned up, boy! We need to get dinner started.” Hoyt replied and you died slightly inside, knowing damn well that you would not survive this evening, mentally.

It didn’t help that after the shower your body refused to function, protesting to the treatment your monstrous man has given it, so Tommy had to carry you down to the table, his chest just swelling with pride and you HATED IT.

Still, even with Hoyt’s rude remarks... It was worth it.

#Thomas Hewitt x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm #tcm: the beginning #thomas hewitt #virgo writes #slasher #slashers #slasher community #This one???#This one my man.#This one is #Something #HOPE YOUR THIRSTY ASS IS HAPPY #you H O E #NASTY #NASTY PEOPLE

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jawritter · 4 years

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Happy Valenties Day Sweetheart...

A/N: Just a little Valentine's Day Dean x Reader for you guys!! As always all mistakes are mine, and feedback is appreciated!! Hope you all enjoy and are having a wonderful Valentine's Day!!

Warnings: SSMMMUUUTTTTT!! lol. Light language, Dean being a fucking sweetheart, yes that’s a warning. SO MUCH FLUFF!!! Fluffy smut, unprotected smut, valentine's day adorableness, your welcome lol.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3120

Want More? Check Out My Masterlist!!

*****MASTERLIST****

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You had been in a relationship with Dean Winchester for four years now, and while it hasn’t always been easy, you never regretted a single day of it.

No relationship was perfect. There were arguments in which you both said things you really didn’t mean, and some things you couldn’t take back. You loved each other with a burning passion, and you fought with one just as white-hot as you loved each other. You both had your moments where you couldn’t stand each other…

Then there were the moments where you couldn’t get enough of each other…

Nights of passion that burned so hot in your memory there weren’t even words to describe them. Nights that drove your love deeper, and deeper, bonding the two of you together; fixing your soul to his and his to yours. Nights that connected you on a level that people wrote novels and fairy tales about. Those are the nights that kept you going.

They kept you going when you didn’t get to see him for weeks at a time because of a hunt that didn’t go the way it was planned, or the nights that you spent pacing the floors waiting for the phone to ring just to hear his voice; just to know that he was okay.

The amount of trauma Dean had been through in his life made him a little hard to love. There were walls built up around him that even in four years he hadn’t let you past. There were some that slowly crumbled, but there were some that were still standing high and showed very little signs of coming down.

It was his defense, the way he protected himself, you knew that and you didn’t push him. That’s how this relationship has worked for the two of you as long as it had. You never pushed him. If he didn’t want to talk about it, you didn’t drill him, you just waited until he was ready. If he didn’t want to relive it, you sure as hell weren’t going to make him, no matter how much you wanted to know what was going on in that head of his sometimes; you weren’t going to do that to him.

You’d resolved a long time ago that no matter what you’d just be there for him, and when he was ready to bring those walls down, no matter what horror he’d had hidden behind there, you’d be there for him through it.

You were his, and he was yours. That means accepting each other's faults, failures, and mistakes. No matter how dark and ugly they were, Dean had some that were pretty dark, and pretty ugly. Still, you loved him more than you loved your own life.

Dean wasn’t a very emotional or romantic person. Years of seeing shit that would drive normal people insane had made him hard, a little rough around the edges. He didn’t know how to show affection a lot of the time like you would expect in a normal relationship with any other Joe Blow anyway.

Hell, it took a solid year for him to get used to cuddling. It was just something he’d never done before. One of those walls. Once he learned that he did enjoy the closeness he craved it, even if he still wouldn’t do such a thing in front of his brother to this day. He now would drag the two of you off to your shared room at night after everyone had settled in for the day, or after a particularly bad hunt just so he could lay next to you and cuddle with you.

The holidays were a whole other wall altogether, one that would make the builders of Jericho take note. He didn’t like very many holidays at all, except for Halloween that is, and you were pretty sure that was just because of the free candy.

You can still remember the first time he bought you a Christmas present. It was about six months into your relationship. You knew how he felt about the holidays, so you didn’t even bother trying to make a big deal out of it. You just bought him a bottle of his favorite whiskey and left it in his room on Christmas eve; not making a big deal out of it cause you knew he hated that.

Much to your surprise, the next night there was a box on your bed with a bracelet inside of it. You never took it off from that night on.

Standing in the check out line at the supermarket for the supply run that you’d gone on you hadn’t even realized it was February 14th until you saw a young man holding a box of chocolate-covered strawberries and flowers in his hand. Which made you look around you, and there were balloons and different things promoting valentine's day sales.

Sighing to yourself you paid for your items and made your way to the car you’d borrowed from the men of letters bunker to make the supply run.

Valentine's day was something Dean had never celebrated with you. Sam said once that he was sure it was because he’d seen his dad break his mom’s heart setting dates and things and never showing up for it on Valentine's day. You never pushed it, you didn’t mind. You knew that he’d be home waiting for you by the time you got there, and you’d have him in your arms after a particularly long hunt, and that's enough. You didn’t need a special day for Dean to show you how much he loved you. He showed you every day in his own way, and that was more than you could ever ask for because you still couldn’t figure out what you did to deserve someone like him.

When you got home the bunker was surprisingly quiet. You saw Baby parked in her usual spot, so you knew that the boys were home, but there were no sounds in the bunker as you made your way down the stairs.

“Sam? Dean?” You called for them as you made your way toward the kitchen. Nothing…

Putting the groceries away you texted Dean. You were about to panic when Dean’s text came back to you.

“Baby where are you?”

“Hey, baby girl. Head to the bedroom when you get a chance. We got the bunker to ourselves tonight. Sam is with Eileen.”

You narrowed your eyes at the phone suspiciously. Why was your boyfriend hiding out in the bedroom and not coming to help you with the groceries like he normally does? Shrugging it off, you finished putting up the groceries and made your way down the hallway to your room.

Opening the door you found no Dean. Just a read box on the bed. With a handwritten note on a small piece of paper.

“Why don’t you open this and go take a bath. I’ve got everything already ready for you. Dean”

Looking around the room suspiciously you see no sign of Dean, but he obviously had something up his sleeve. Roll play and games like this normally were not his style, but you never know with Dean, he’d surprised you more than once. You never knew what the man had up his sleeve.

Reaching down you pulled the ribbon on the box in front of you and opened it. Revealing a new blood-red bathrobe, complete with a silk red nightgown, and matching thong. Blinking at it for a moment you ran the material between your fingers.

This was new, Dean had NEVER brought you lingerie before, he didn’t even like buying himself new underwear when he needed it, he usually just put it on the list and sent you to pick it up for him.

Shoving the pure shock aside, and deciding just to go with it, you grab your new attire that he’d picked out for the night, and made your way to the bathroom.

A few years back Dean had a bathtub installed for you, and when you walked into the bathroom It was already filled, little tea light candles littering the room, along with rose petals on the floor. Your favorite bath bomb already placed in the water and just simmering the last of its remnants away before dissolving completely. Which told you Dean was indeed in the bunker and was just moving one step ahead of you.

Walking over to the counter you place your clothes down next to the towel and pick up the next handwritten note laying there.

“When you're done come back to the bedroom, I’ll be waiting for you.”

After taking your bath per your orders, you dried yourself off, feeling a lot more relaxed than you did when you’d gotten to the bunker from the supply run earlier that day, and put on your new clothes. Tying up the robe around yourself before making your way toward your shared room again.

You were not gonna lie, you were more than a little anxious about what you’d find there. So far this evening he’d been one step ahead of you. Your heart was beating hard in your chest and you came to stop in front of the door. Taking a deep breath you opened it slowly.

You didn’t look up until you were fully inside, and when you did you couldn’t help but gasp.

The only light was a soft glow of candles that now littered the room. Red rose petals scattered everywhere.

That wasn’t the first thing you saw though.

In the middle of the floor, surrounded by rose petals, was Dean. kneeling before you. His hand stretched out to you, beckoning you to him. Slowly you made your way to him, tears are already welling in your eyes. You had never seen Dean do anything like this for you the whole four years you were together.

“Dean,” was all you could get out when you finally made your way over to him. You didn’t trust yourself to not start bawling right there like a lunatic and totally ruining everything he’d obviously worked so hard to plan.

Dean said nothing, just slipped his hand into yours, drawing your attention to him. His green eyes pierced through the dimmed light of the room. His features were calm, and at peace. It’s something you didn’t see from him often.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small, older looking black velvet box and your heart stopped for a moment.

He turned it over in his fingers before locking eyes with you.

“You know how bad I am with words,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But, bear with me okay.”

All you could do was nod. You were pretty sure that your voice wouldn’t work at all at this point, and even if it did you would start to cry.

“You are more than I ever deserved you know that? I never thought I would be allowed after everything I’ve done, and the life that I live, that I would be allowed to have someone like you. I know I’m not perfect. I’m an asshole most of the time. I’m hard to live with, I’ve got more issues than anyone I’ve ever known, some you know about, and some you probably don’t. I’m harder than I should be. I drink way too much. Hell, I’m not that good of a person the whole way around. Still, for some reason I’ll never understand you stuck with me even when you had every right to get up and leave my ass. I’ve deserved it on more than one occasion. I can’t give you a house, I can’t even give you a family, Life with me will never be safe, there will always be someone, something hiding in the shadows that wants more than anything to kill me, or you because of me, I can’t promise you that we got tomorrow. I doubt I’ll live to be an old man, there’s so much I want to give you, that I’ll never be able to, but if you’ll have me...”

Never breaking eye contact with you Dean opened the small box in his hand. Revealing a vintage style engagement ring, with a single diamond on a gold band, one that you recognized as his mother’s. Tears now falling freely down your face.

“I know legally I can’t marry you, the life I’ve lived won't let me, but we got an angle of the Lord hanging around here, and the way I see it is that’s more binding than any piece of paper in some courthouse somewhere. Y/N, I may not have a long life ahead of me, but I want to spend what I have with you. Will you marry me?”

You were struck dumb. For someone who said he wasn’t good at talking he sure as hell said a lot. Tears were blurring your vision at this point, your voice came out in a choked “yes” that you knew for a fact he probably didn’t understand, so you just stood there and nodded like an idiot.

Dean slipped the ring onto your left finger and was on his feet so fast that you didn’t have time to really process it. His lips on yours, kissing you with more love and admiration that he’d ever done before.

This felt like some ridiculous dream. You never thought in a million years that Dean would ever go this far as to ask you to marry him. You had spent nights dreaming about it, but never knew that this dream with him could be a reality, so you just forced yourself to be content with what you had with him. Right now though, as he backed you towards your shared bed, his lips never leave yours, his hands sliding the robe down your body to pool onto the floor before he laid you down softy, your heart was so full there were no words for what you were feeling.

Trailing kisses from you the sensitive skin behind your ear all the way down to your neck, Dean slowly slid your nightgown from your body as he worked. His fingertips trailing softly over your skin, leaving little bumps in their wake.

Your fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, and he set up long enough to slip it down his arms and throw it to the floor too. Making quick work of his jeans and boxers while he was there. His cock already slapping against his stomach as he freed himself from the confines of his boxers. Already hard and leaking at its swollen tip.

He caged his body over yours, finding your lips again as he trailed his fingers lightly from the valley of your cleavage, all the way down to the thong that you had left, sliding it down your body with ease.

“You’re so beautiful Y/N, I love you so much.”

His voice was deep, ragged. Feeling like it vibrated through your body, and wrapped around your very soul.

“I love you too, Dean.”

Dean’s lips found yours again more hungry this time, but still moving slowly. Stealing your breath from you as his tongue glided over yours like it had done so many times before. Grinding his thick length against your already soaking folds. Your body begging for him.

“Dean please.”

Nodding his head he slipped the tip through your folds, gathering up your slick before he slowly sank into you. Falling into place perfectly. Filling and stretching you like only he could. A deep sigh leaving both of your lips as he completely filled you.

There was no rush. No pounding of your bodies together to find your release. Dean slowly ground against you. His hips never really leave yours. Keeping himself buried deep inside of you. His strong arms holding you close to him as he sucked a deep purple mark on your neck before making his way back up to your lips, claiming you as his for the world to see.

Thrusting into you slowly as he kissed you, grinding your bodies together harder and harder. His pelvis hitting your clit in just the right way, the constant pressure against your G spot as he ground himself into you was sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body. His name fell from your lips like a prayer. Soon the only sounds in the room were deep sighs, moans, and whispered affections as he continued his slow deep pace. Slowly, so as to not break the connection of your bodies he sat you up in his lap, hitting even deeper inside of you at the new angle.

His fingers holding your hips in a bruising grip as you help you grind against him, keeping your bodies firmly pressed together. Your head falling back as he peppered your neck and chest with open mouth kisses between moans of his own.

It was the most intimate thing you’d ever experienced in your life. The way he held you together, driving you both slowly toward your end. Bodies moving together. His fingers trailing little pattern over your back with the hand that wasn’t holding onto your hips. His body rubbing against your own with each movement he made.

The way your arms snaked around his neck while the other hand found its way into his soft tousled hair. Pushing, pulling, moving together. So familiar in a lot of ways, yet so different in others. This time deeper, more intimate, connected on such a deep level it was almost overwhelming until finally, your body couldn’t take it anymore, and the coil that had been winding white-hot in your belly snapped, throwing you over the edge in an orgasm so strong inside that it felt like it was licking at your very soul. Dean working you slowly through it, dragging it out as much and as long as he could before he spilled deep inside of you with a groan. Stilling himself. Holding your bodies as close and as tight together as he had the strength to. Your body milking his, greedily taking everything that he had to give you.

When you both finally had control over your bodies Dean laid you down softly on the bed. Getting up and going to get a warm cloth from the bathroom, cleaning you up, then himself before blowing out the candles in the room, and crawling into bed with you, pulling you as close to him as possible.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Sweetheart.”

You couldn’t stop the ridiculous smile that was on your face as you brushed your lips over his, exhausted, and more content than you ever had been in your life.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dean..”

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Tag List:

@deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero

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thevaultturtle · 4 years

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NSFW Alphabet: Danse

And for the first installment of the NSFW alphabets. I’m sorry if the Favorite Positions section is a little funky, but Tumblr won’t allow images that would even remotely help with that anymore, so I did my best to describe everything. Need it even be said that there’s NSFW material under the cut?

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

Danse gets super cuddly after sex. He wants to make his partner feel safe during what could be a very vulnerable time for them, so he tends to have them lay on him in some way, typically with their head on his chest while he wraps an arm around them and his hand gently strokes their back. This isn't purely for their sake, either. This extra bit of contact after such an intimate act also makes him feel more secure, in himself and in his relationship with his partner. It makes him feel like he truly belongs with them, and it helps to satisfy the protective urge that he constantly feels towards his partner.

B: Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner)

Danse loves his partner's eye. They're just so reflective of what his partner is feeling, whether that's in everyday life or during sex, and he'll never get tired of seeing the almost drunk, hazy look in his partner's eyes whenever he's doing a good job of making them feel good. Just thinking about that look can get him riled up and ready to go in seconds.

Since his Power Armor doesn't exactly count for this, Danse doesn't really have a favorite part of himself. He's never really given it much thought before, but if he absolutely had to choose, it'd probably be his chest, just because that's where he likes his partner to lay after sex.

C: Cum (Anything to do with cum)

He has got to have some of the most average cum that you could imagine, simply because he's a synth and his body was manufactured, and it's highly doubtful that the Institute cared to put too much variety in all the glands that make cum. The glands are probably completely uniform, churning out a very average amount of cum that has a very average consistency. As for where he prefers to come, he'd prefer to do it inside of his partner because he finds it to be more intimate, but if he has a female partner, he will ignore that preference for obvious reasons, at least until he finds out that he's a synth since that particular worry wouldn't apply anymore (as far as we know).

D: Dirty Secret

During Recon Squad Gladius' initial travel to the Commonwealth, Danse involuntarily ended up hearing several of his squad members 'taking care of themselves' at several times throughout the journey. It's to be expected when you're traveling in such close quarters with a squad that's mostly in its physical prime, and it's not like they weren't trying to be discrete about it, but Danse has been able to maintain some pretty damn good hearing throughout the years. It shouldn't have been much of a problem, a bit embarrassing, but that should have been it. Unfortunately, as will be discussed later, Danse has a bit of a thing for any sort of sexual noises, so this led to a bit of frustration for him, frustration that he was far too embarrassed to take care of. He was incredibly grateful for his Power Armor.

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

At some point after finding out that he was synth and that most of his memories were fabricated, it occurred to Danse that he didn't actually know when his sexual history began. He can't figure out where the fake memories end and the real ones begin, and it's a bit disconcerting for him. It can be assumed that all of the sexual encounters that he had while he was with the Brotherhood were real, so he has some experience that he actually experienced. He caught the eyes of quite a few of his fellow Brotherhood soldiers, and while he acted on a few of those interests, there were a whole lot more that he didn't act on, purely because he was so focused on his duties to the Brotherhood and training. So he has some experience, plus whatever 'experience' he had programmed into him.

F: Favorite Position

Danse favors intimate positions, particularly those that allow for a lot of eye contact, so positions like Gemini (where his partner is sitting on his lap, facing him while they hold onto each other, and both of them also have their legs extended while they both grind into each other) are right up his alley.

He also likes the Louis position for its similar setup (like Gemini, but he's in more of a kneeling position), plus it gives him plenty of opportunities to touch his partner and more leverage to fuck them with.

Missionary is also a safe bet for him, because it's versatile on its simplicity and it allows for plenty of eye contact.

He also really likes being ridden, and he prefers positions like Oasis (where his partner is on his lap again, facing him, kneeling with their knees on the outside of his hips while he sits with his legs outstretched) for this because it gives him close contact with his partner while they ride him, so he can put his hands and mouth to good use while they do that.

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

Danse is definitely more serious during sex, as he is with just about everything else in life. While he can have some more casual bouts, overall, sex is a very intimate act for Danse, so he takes it very seriously, which doesn't allow for a lot of humor. He's not completely broody during sex or anything like that, so there will be plenty of smiles, just not a lot of outright laughter.

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

The typical Wastelander probably doesn't care too much for personal grooming of this kind since every day is a fight for survival, but since the Brotherhood offers a good bit of protection to its people, they would probably have more time to put some effort into that grooming. Danse still probably wouldn't put that much time into it because he has better things to do, but he'd at least keep everything a little trimmed so it wasn't too bushy, and what he has is just as dark as what he has up top.

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

It has been said here before and it'll be said again: sex is an incredibly intimate act for Danse. He sees it as the ultimate way to connect with his partner on what he could only describe as a spiritual level. It makes him feel closer to them and more bonded with them, and the hope of strengthening those bonds with them even further really drives Dance to please his partner that much more, to be more intimate with them. Sex with Danse outside of a relationship is great, but because of his want and need for intimacy and how fervently he pursues that through sex, sex with Danse while in a relationship with a partner that he loves is a damn near life-changing experience.

J: Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He thinks it's a waste of time overall, and that there are quite a few better ways for him to spend his rare free time, but...a man has his needs, and unless the Institute developed the greatest hormonal control in existence for its synths or they didn't give them any at all, then Danse has a lot of needs. He'll avoid it for as long as he can, but when he can't resist any longer, he'll make it a very quick affair, far, far away from any and all human life so nobody has a chance at catching him.

K: Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He has a healthy bit of an authority kink. Will he take control over his partner and dominate them whenever they ask him to? Yes, but what really sends him reeling is the reverse of that scenario. There's just something so invigorating yet relieving about giving his partner that much control over him, about putting that much trust in them, and he finds an intimacy in it that others might not see.

Voyeurism in a very closed setting. He loves watching his partner pleasure themselves, seeing every way that their body responds to ecstasy in action and in sound. It drives him absolutely wild.

He also just loves it when his partner talks to him during sex, whether they're telling him what they want, that they love what he's doing to them, or they're telling him those sweet nothings that make his head spin. Something about their voice just does things to him.

L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)

It's kind of hard to have a favorite location for sex in a post-apocalyptic wasteland where you really just have to take what you can get location-wise, but overall, Danse prefers to have as much privacy as possible, in a place where his partner can be comfortable. If a private bedroom is available, fantastic, if not, he can make do.

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

Gentleness and vulnerability. These may sound strange as turn-ons, but remember, Danse craves intimacy with his partner, and these are two very intimate things that will make him want that intimacy even more, typically through sex. And if his partner is showing him any type of gentleness after finding out he's a synth, this increases tenfold because it makes him feel like they accept him and it makes him feel human again.

Any sort of sexual movement or response. Danse pays a lot of attention to his partner, watching them and noticing every detail about them, and any subtle action that might indicate that they want him, or reminds him of a time when they were together, will get him going. This isn't just with his partner, though. Sexual sounds and actions in general just trigger something primal inside of him, which is what got him into trouble in his 'Dirty Secret'.

And if he tries to say that seeing his partner in Power Armor doesn't turn him on, he's lying. Any feat of strength or power from his partner will get his blood boiling for them in the best way.

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

He's not going to do anything while he's on the clock. He has a duty to see to and he will be completely focused on that. His needs can wait until his job is complete, while he's in the Brotherhood and afterwards, because he's a mission-oriented person regardless of where he is in life.

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

He has mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, he'd rather just get to the main event, but on the other hand, he really, really likes going down on his partner. He's all about making his partner feel good, and oral can be pretty handy in doing that, plus the way that their body reacts to it is just…exquisite, in his opinion. For his partner's pleasure, his oral skills are pretty damn good, and he's really enthusiastic in going about everything, too. He won't turn down a blowjob, but they aren't high on his priority list.

P: Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

Slow and sensual all the way because he wants to make every intimate moment with his partner last as long as possible. He'll turn things up a notch at his partners behest, but he'll always start off slow and gentle.

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

They aren't his thing. Since life is so unpredictable in the Wasteland and tomorrow is never guaranteed, though, he'll have one if he has to just to be with his partner, but he definitely prefer proper sex.

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

He's far too cautious of a person for risks, and he's of the impression that life is already risky enough as it is. He’s definitely not fond of risking being caught in such a compromising situation, especially while his partner is in such a vulnerable state.

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

Look, not only is Danse in freaking amazing shape, but he's also a synth, which just adds to his conditioning that much more. He has yet to find a limit on how many rounds he can go for because his partners tend to tap out before he can even get close to that point. His refractory period is also damn near nonexistent, so… Danse has some stamina, to say the least.

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

Do sex toys even still exist in the Fallout universe? Assuming that they do, Danse probably wouldn't be into them. They might even confuse him to some extent. Who would really need one with him, anyway, when he has that stamina and is so dedicated to his partner's pleasure?

U: Unfair (how much they like to tease)

If this is something that his partner wants, they'll have to mention it to him and then tell him exactly what it is that they want. He'll do it, but teasing is not something that he naturally thinks to do. He's too blunt and straightforward for it to be.

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

He's not terribly loud, which is very purposeful on his part because he wants to hear every little sound that his partner makes, but he does let out these quiet, breathy grunts that are toe-curling on their own.

W: Wild Card (Random headcanon)

We've already established that gentleness is a surefire way to get Danse going, but for maximum effectiveness with that, his partner should hold him and go for the hair. They need to make him feel safe, wrapping their arms around him and letting him rest his head against their chest (so this would have to be while he was sitting or lying down because he's kind of a big guy). And then, once they run their fingers through his hair, gently scraping them against his scalp, they'll hear him let out a soft sigh. It is far from a sigh of relief, though. That feeling sent a shiver down his spine, and that shiver made his whole body tense with little crackles of ecstasy, so that sigh was more or less a light moan indicative of things to come.

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

How does the Institute determine synth dick size? Do they throw some variety into the genes or are they all pretty much uniform? We'll assume there's variety, because Danse just had the essence of being thick. He's a little above average at about 5 ¾ inches erect (if you're going with the average of 5 ⅕ inches). Girth-wise, he's well above the average (which is about 4 ⅗ inches), coming in at nearly 6 inches while he's hard.

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

He has a pretty decent sex drive just because he so desperately wants to be close to his partner, but really it’s completely dependent on them, because he can hold his urges back when he needs to, but he will also take any opportunity that he can to be close to them.

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

Well, he doesn't really have a need to sleep because of what he is, and he doesn't really want to after sex, either. He'd rather stay up so he can watch over his partner, ensuring that they sleep peacefully, protecting them and holding them so he can feel them against him and remind himself that they're still with him.

#paladin danse #fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout #fallout danse #fo4 danse #fallout 4 danse #fallout headcanons #not so sfw alphabet #don't read in polite company

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rokutouxei · 3 years

Text

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 14 OF 22

... I choked on such longing I couldn’t spit out. Yes, desire is so different when God bore you hungry. I could have devoured anything and still have been starving. In one version of our story the fruit is in your chest. David, I eat it anyway. O, I know nothing but to take & keep taking.

- Belovéd, Yves Olade

Something in their world shifts.

She hadn’t exactly formally talked it out with Vincent, but it’s somehow settled that she would be there for him to talk to whenever he had something about his exhibit that he wanted to discuss. It was different to have someone on “neutral ground”—someone who wasn’t Theo, who wasn’t carrying the weight of having to bear everything else for the exhibit to happen. And Theo doesn’t mind sharing the space with Vincent with her, either. ‘

It starts simple. A little group chat with Theo (although he rarely responds to the messages) and Vincent to toss ideas, throw little inspirational things. On Friday afternoons, when her schedule is a little more open, she sometimes visits the van Gogh house to check on Vincent and what he’s done so far. She helps him with the expressions on his models, gives him insight into what a viewer would think of the painting. Having been born and raised in this place, she gives the best advice on what places would have the best views to paint, where it would be possible to go outside and sketch and draw.

The exhibit slowly comes into shape.

Theo helps Vincent with the technicals: looking for a place to set it up, preparing the documents for the panel, buying the art materials, providing some comments for half-finished works. She helps Vincent with the storyline: drawing out his story of the little boy with paint seeping out of her hands, leaving a trail of art wherever he goes. How the world changes with every bit of it he touches.

But most importantly, they make sure they are there for Vincent, constantly nudging him in the direction he wants to go but is sometimes too hesitant to.

The final exams roll in with the same kind of raucousness as the midterms did, but there is a quiet kind of understanding between her and Theo that is different from the last time. The gang—she, Theo, Arthur, and Dazai—gathers to study together that pre-finals week, but it’s as if it’s only her and Theo around.

She peers up from what she’s writing on her notebook and when she finds Theo staring, she smiles up at him and he turns away with a grumble at being caught even if he knew he would. When he has his glasses on and is busy reviewing something on his computer, his eyes running left and right over pages of notes, she observes the way the feeble sun shines weak gold over his deep honey-colored hair, soft and likely gentle to the touch—and he lets her.

Arthur, of course, has something he wants to say, but this time he’s smart enough to hold it in, Dazai nudging him gently with his elbow, knowing it would be the worst shame to interrupt the little world she and Theo are in.

It is only once final exams have finished that the preparation for the exhibit rolls into full force for the brothers. Both Theo’s hours at the bookshop and Vincent’s hours at the café lessens as the university rolls into holiday mode, and now more than ever is Vincent working non-stop at his paintings, like they’re burning to get out of him.

Vincent now has time to get out his art.

And Theo—Theo has time to dream about the future.

And dreaming about the future.

Just in time for Christmas.

“Hey Arthur, what should I get Theo?”

She and Arthur are sitting at the Little Owl, waiting for Dazai to arrive. The two lovebirds were having their Christmas date early, because this year, Arthur is coming home to his family, likely to mooch for money. She intended to say no at first—after all, this is their date, regardless of whatever label they had for whatever was going on between the two of them—but upon the realization that Dazai was not only picky with food (and also had great taste) but also footing the bill, ‘yes’ was the only possible option.

Besides, Arthur wasn’t taking no for an answer, and she had to wrestle herself out of his original condition that she could only come if she was bringing Theo along, like a double date.

Arthur looks up from the little crossword puzzle he was solving on the café’s shared newspaper. “A kiss,” he answers without missing a beat. “Twenty, maybe. That might soften him.”

“Arthur.”

“Oh, he uses that exact tone on me too, little miss. Very uncanny.”

“I’m not giving him a kiss,” she sighs, turning her head back to her notebook, with the scribbled list of people and items next to their names. “You’re the worst person to ask.”

Arthur puts on a faux-offended face. “I’m only telling you what he’d appreciate the most.”

“Okay, smarty,” she rolls her eyes. “I’m just trying to get everyone Christmas presents.”

“You’re getting him something for Christmas?” Arthur’s eyes are wide in genuine surprise.

“I’m getting you something too!”

He hums. “Is that so. Entirely normal, platonic gifts.”

“Arthur!” she pouts. “I swear, there’s no bigger meaning to it. I like giving gifts for Christmas. It’s kind of routine at this point.”

“So you’re getting Vincent a gift too.”

“Of course.”

“And I, Dazai, and Isaac.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “What, I have to give you a full list of who I’m giving gifts to for Christmas?”

“Yes,” Arthur says, tapping her nose with a pen. She scrunches up her nose in response. “Checking for fairness.”

“Fairness?!” she looks at him pointedly. “Look, you’re just fishing for clues that I’ll get Theo something—” she raises her fingers to make air quotes, “—‘more meaningful’ and ‘more valuable’ than the rest of you guys as a clue to whatever the hell your theory is.”

“It’s not a theory, little bird, it’s an observation,” Arthur says, with a laugh. “The fact that you still refuse to say what my theory is out loud is really telling, you know?”

“No, it’s because it’s not true.”

“What is not true?”

“Your theory.”

“Which is?”

Which is that I’ve entirely fallen in love with Theo and I don’t want to admit it because I’m afraid of what happens after that and if I own up to it. It’s not true at all. Not even the littlest bit.

Why would she be afraid of something she loves?

Not her, no. She’s the kind of person who runs toward what she wants.

This doesn’t make any sense.

She sighs. “Why did I even ask you. This is pointless. I’ll ask Vincent instead.”

“Oh, but he wouldn’t know what our dearest Theo would want,” Arthur hums. “He’s hard to give gifts to.”

“Wait, ‘our’?” she begins to argue, but then shakes her head. “Never mind. How are you claiming more knowledge than Vincent? Theo hates your guts.”

“Because he knows I know him.”

“That means he hates my guts too.”

“He does.”

She sighs. There’s not much point arguing with Arthur oftentimes—the best way is to surrender and then just try and figure out a way out of the mess one had walked into afterward. “Okay, fine. What is it that he’d appreciate getting for Christmas?”

Arthur grins. “You owe me one?”

She groans. She knows she will regret this deeply like she did the last time, but—“I do! Now ‘fess up!”

The holiday season in their university town is quiet. Much quieter, at least, than on regular school season. Most of the students go back to their hometowns after the exams, and the streets get quieter and quieter the closer it is to Christmas. Stores that used to be open most of the day open later and close earlier; cafés and libraries and emptier; the streets are less crowded. The hustle and bustle become muted and more peaceful.

Theo likes being on campus around this time of year because it’s different from the usual. Before Theo attended the university, when Vincent was the only one out here, his brother used to come home for the holidays. But ever since Theo came here, and the entire incident with Vincent’s graduation and his project came into light, they hadn’t gone home—mostly to save the money, but also because it doesn’t… feel right to go home back yet.

That’s alright. It’s not as if it’s lonely out here in late December.

Not all students go home. Arthur goes home—he says it’s for a sweetheart who has “long been missing him”, but they all know better. Dazai and Isaac stay a little longer than the other students do, but they go home as well. But Vincent and Theo stay.

And so does she.

It’s a beautiful city to spend the winter in, after all.

Like most places, there’s a little holiday culture of its own in the town as well. A student representative council gathers early in December to arrange a gigantic potluck-slash-party at around noon on the 24th, where students who have stayed get to hang out with everyone else who is still there to share some Christmas cheer. The event is usually held at the Grove, which means there’s also space to ice skate. Some vendors are invited to sell their wares of Christmas food as well—and of course, alcohol is included. Speakers are installed and Christmas music, both lively and more romantic, play throughout the course of the party. Those who sign in earlier get to join in an exchange gift affair at the latter part of it too. There’s also a raffle for little gifts and prizes. And of course, there’s the snowball fight. It’s a small, homey event, and many students actually decide to stay on campus for this particular party.

Every year, Theo is pretty neutral about the potluck.

Every year, Vincent wants to go. So Theo always comes with him.

And this year… Vincent is inviting her too.

He considers getting her a pack of highlighters.

He doesn’t know much about the world of stationery and fancy studying materials, but there’s a certain brand of fancy highlighters he sees a lot around campus. They’re not the easiest brand to get, according to his research, but if he orders it soon it might just make it on time.

Or maybe a fountain pen?

Fountain pens are classy. And thoughts have been given on them, so he knows it’s not a bad shot. He isn’t quite sure what kind, though, what brand, and maybe he could get one that’s the exact same model and brand as his, but isn’t that a little too obvious? He doesn’t want to be too obvious. He doesn’t want it to be obvious at all, or even known.

A book, perhaps, might be the best option, then.

Books have been an integral part of their… relationship, anyway. No other meaning to that. If there is anything to be read about that, then that’s not on him, is it? That makes this entire process simpler. He’ll just need to drop by the bookstore, check the stocks, pick up the most mundane and boring poetry book—the lamest, the worst, why would he give something meaningful—and then get a gift bag, maybe some wrapping paper—

Theo is so deep in his thoughts he doesn’t catch Vincent entering the room, even as the door behind his older brother closes with a click. The look on Theo’s face—furrowed brows, tense shoulders, the light in his eyes—makes Vincent smile just the tiniest bit.

The sound of his voice shakes Theo out of his reverie.

“Have you chosen what to get her?” Vincent asks, providing no context. He doesn’t need to. He knows his brother well, and he even turns away from Theo to lessen the blow, pretending to look for something in his bedside drawer.

“I’m not getting her anything,” Theo scoffs weakly, his frown deepening as the tips of his ears turn bright red.

Sometime around noon of the 24th, the three of them meet at the plaza to join the potluck. The brothers bring cupcakes—“I didn’t know you baked, Vincent!” “It wasn’t me, it was Theo.” “Oh?”—and she brings some spaghetti, and the rest of the table is overflowing with food to eat. Everyone is dressed in shades of gold, red, green, and white. Music plays through the speakers attached to the streetlights.

Her face kind of hurts with how big she’s smiling.

She doesn’t hate life on the campus, no, but it’s become monotone, a little too uninteresting that leaves her on edge. It’s exactly why she was so eager to get on with Arthur’s dare and get to know Theo in the first place—she had that sense that maybe it would bring her somewhere new, somewhere fascinating. The only exception to the otherwise boring campus life is on big events like this holiday party, and the feeling is something she can’t get enough of.

The party goes just about as one would expect—her, pulling Vincent around by the elbow getting him to try all the different kinds of food laid out (“No, no, I couldn’t possibly eat anymore—” “Just one more bite! Just one!”); her, pulling Theo by the wrist to join her and Vincent in ice-skating (“I’m not interested.” “You have no say in the matter!”); and then, of course, Theo, pelting her right in the face with a snowball (the most annoyed pout she can muster, together with “Oh you want war, then you’re getting it!”)

It is already four in the afternoon when the three of them make it out of the hubbub. Theo is walking with his hands in his pockets, humming along to one of the Christmas songs now aggressively stuck in his head after having heard it at least 60 times in the past four hours. She teases him about it and he frowns about it, but he’s still humming.

“I ate too much!” she whines, clutching her stomach pitifully as they walked. “Absolutely no regrets though. I love Christmas potluck, but this year was just crazy.”

Vincent laughs. “You really shouldn’t have gotten that last pretzel,” he chides.

“But it was so good! I don’t know where they sourced that cinnamon, but it made me cry.”

Theo snorts. “You cried?”

“I did, I don’t understand how one wouldn’t,” she sighs. “Theo, you were just too into your chocolate-topped-with-caramel-topped-with-strawberries-topped-with—” she takes a breath, “—diabetes cake thing. Why was that even allowed to exist.”

“You just have no taste,” Theo says, but it has no venom in it.

She grins. “Neither do you.”

“That makes us even.”

She should be going home by now—the sun will be setting soon, and she’d rather not be walking home in the dark in the snow—but her little apartment building is rather empty for the holidays, and it can get quite lonely when the rest of the campus is still celebrating. It’s a good thing she doesn’t need to tell the brothers for them to understand, and they let her walk with them all the way back to their little house, the one she’s been in so often in the past few months, it kind of feels like a second home too.

“Hot chocolates?” Vincent asks once they’ve made it through the threshold with matched sighs, hanging his coat by the rack. She whoops and cheers.

“Yes please!” she says, “I’ll choose a movie!”

Christmas has never really been a special holiday to her in the past. Sure, it’s enjoyable, and involves a lot of food and gifts, the questionable-if-enjoyable company of a lot of family members, sometimes even distantly extended ones, and most of the sense of the holiday is about its commercialized form instead of the actual religious holiday, giving it an alienating feeling, but—

This year it’s a little different.

Feels a little different.

Not quite like the usual.

Not when she’s snuggled under a blanket, Theo in between her and Vincent, a mug of hot chocolate in her hands, Klaus on the TV. Not when it’s been a long semester of burning the midnight oil studying and working so hard, and then suddenly it feels like it’s okay to rest.

Rest in this place that lets her curl up warmly in its softness.

And sure, maybe some things feel the same, familiar, like Theo’s nose, scrunched up because he’s taking the movie a little too seriously, or Vincent’s sunny smile, or Arthur’s text message in her phone of [ no mistletoe? 🎄 ]—but it’s different.

The longing tearing at her heart, she begins to be sure that she’ll miss this.

It’s not home but she’s sure if one day she will ever find it, it will probably feel like this.

They sit around the living room talking to each other even after the movie ends, and by the time it truly feels like the day has settled down around them, the sun is long out of the sky. Slowly, the sinking feeling that she had overstayed her welcome begins to crawl over her, once Vincent brings their now-empty mugs onto the kitchen sink. She straightens up at her seat, nervously fidgeting next to the mountain of blankets separating her and Theo on the couch.

And then suddenly, she remembers.

“Oh, but before the night ends—”

She digs into her bag and pulls out a small gift, wrapped with a yellow ribbon. Vincent returns to the living area just at the right moment, so she hands the present to Vincent. “Merry Christmas, Vincent! It’s not much, but I hope it proves helpful for your current project.”

He doesn’t know it yet, but it’s a box of fresh paints, the brand he uses. Not in as wide an array of colors of what he does have, but still a good number. She made sure to check which ones he used the most.

“You didn’t have to!” he says, summer sun in his smile. “Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome, Vincent, of course,” she says. And then, she pulls out another thing—turning towards Theo as she hands him a box, neatly held together with starry wrapping paper and a sheer white ribbon. “Merry Christmas, Theo. Thanks for everything this year.”

Vincent chuckles at the look of surprise on Theo’s face. Theo looks back at his brother, betrayed.

But he doesn’t have much time for that, because the gift is hovering in between him and her awkwardly. He takes it and mumbles a soft, “Um, thanks.”

She blinks. “Do you not want it?”

“I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Surprises are good this time of year,” she says. Grins when she catches the tips of Theo’s ears already pink. Vincent spots it too and laughs, as he reaches out from underneath their little Christmas tree to hand them some gifts as well.

By the heft of it, she guesses what’s inside her wrapped present is a small painting; she beams at Vincent and throws him an embrace in thanks. Vincent gifts Theo a gray sweater with a reindeer on it, the kind of gift one would receive from their grandmother instead of their brother, but Theo quickly puts it over his shirt excitedly anyway.

She wonders why Theo hasn’t opened her gift to him yet.

Vincent manages to say up to half of “And what about you, Theo?” when Theo quickly gets up on his feet, saying, “I should walk you home,” pointing at the clock on the wall. Solidly eight at night. Not that late, really, but—there’s no good overstaying. Her heart drops a little but she nods anyway.

“Yeah, I should,” she agrees. “Thank you for today, Vincent.”

He beams. “Of course. Come join us anytime.”

Theo holds the gift box she had given him under his arm and turns to her. “Ready in 5?”

“Yup, I just need to go to the restroom,” she says. “I’ll be back.”

She clears her head quickly in the bathroom. She doesn’t know when she started to get so riled up whenever Theo walked her home—late evenings at the van Goghs on Fridays spent talking about the exhibit has made it a common affair—but tonight, her heart is hammering in her chest somehow. It’s been a normal day. Nothing’s different, she convinces herself, so there’s no need for all these theatrics and heart acrobatics.

When she gets out to the foyer, she catches Theo leaning against the wall, his hands in the pockets of his coat, and—

The deep blue scarf around his neck.

The one she chose for him.

Arthur said the best gift to give Theo is one he will be able to use, but—

She hadn’t imagined seeing it in use would leave her dry of words, too.

“Let’s go?”

She pretends the flush in her face is due to the sudden cold. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The walk home isn’t entirely quiet. She checks her phone and shows him the photos of Christmas eve the rest of their friends have sent them, in the group chat Theo never checks because he’s just not that kind of guy. Then they talk about the party, her profusely accusing Theo of attempted murder for having hit her right on target at the face pretty hard with that snowball. And then, they turn toward talking about the exhibit, and Vincent, and the upcoming year and—

Talk like this, about the little things, like they usually do.

The comforting usuals of their friendship.

Nothing different. Nothing new.

Just the usual.

Finally, after 20 minutes she wanted to last forever, they make it to her apartment complex. They bid goodbye at the entrance. She’s just about turned around to leave when she feels the warmth of his fingers around her wrist, pulling her back.

“Theo?” “Hondje," they call to each other at the same time.

He hands a small, wrapped box he’s kept underneath his coat towards her.

“For you.”

She blinks. Oh, if Arthur could have seen their mirrored expressions from their exchange of gifts, he would have laughed so loudly. “What is this?”

He narrows her eyes at her, as if she said something stupid. “A gift.”

“I mean—” she begins, but then just chuckles. “I mean thanks. This means a lot.”

“Don’t think about it too hard. Rest well,” he says, the following syllables of her name just light on his lips. The sound of it makes her nerves flutter. She holds onto the gift box in her hand tightly instead, as if making sure it’s there. That this is real. Theo gives her a look like she’s transparent. “You’re always welcome at the house. No matter how long you stay. Merry Christmas.”

A smile creeps up on her face uncontrollably. “Merry Christmas too, Theo.”

She waves goodbye to him and watches him disappear off the corner before she runs upstairs to go to her room—to shut the door behind her and take a deep breath. She shrugs her coat off, tucks the mittens inside the pockets.

Puts the little box she’d been holding so carefully, still warm from Theo’s coat, along with her little wrapped painting from Vincent, underneath the small makeshift Christmas tree sitting on her kitchen counter.

Earlier that day, Theo had slipped a note in between the pages of a poetry book—on an old receipt he’d scribbled on at the back, which said: thanks for helping my brother out. thought our little miss ‘love is the answer to all of the world’s problems’ would enjoy a bit of e.e. cummings.

And tomorrow, first thing on Christmas morning, sipping on hot chocolate with sugar marshmallows on top, she will open the box and find the note and grin widely. And, in a reversal of her usual, she will make herself comfortable on the couch, overlooking the window, the falling snow, and read the book slowly, investing her heart in each syllable. Listening to every sound in her head. Carrying each word gently, taking her time.

Dipping her feet lightly into the book. Relishing in the curve of the words on her lips as she reads—words Theo chose and wrapped into a gift, then given to her.

#the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart #ikemen vampire #ikevamp theo

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olympusnerd · 3 years

Text

The Story of Aphrodite Part 1

The sketch was done with 4H and B7 pencils and a little color for her majesty’s eyes.

This story is a snippet of a background I’ve written about Aphrodite the Goddess of Love regarding how she became the goddess of love. This piece is rated PG but installments will be rated R and will have additional warnings. Mostly writing this because it’s always bothered me how it seems like pop culture appreciates her because she’s hot and thinks she’s just a petty manipulator. I see a lot more of an icon and wanted to paint her in a different light.

Word Count: 3377

For so many, the beginning was chaos, but for Aphrodite, that was more than a poetic truth. While the world would have one believe that the goddess of love, sex and beauty was put on this earth already ordained the most beautiful or the most sexual, it was a long and strenuous road for the goddess to become the icon mortals will remember her for all time. No, her entrance into the world was anything but beautiful.

The sky cracked angrily with flashes of lightning jetting from one end of the world to the other as the ground quaked with Mother Earth. Gaia was shivering in stunned horror at the brutality of Uranos’s death. Though she had orchestrated the entire event, nothing could have prepared the celestial for seeing her husband slain like cattle, his severed genitals scattered across her lovely planet like seeds to tilled soil.

It was from his blood that various creatures arose from Mother Earth's womb. The Furies: a rightfully dreadful group of female monsters with sharp teeth and claws made to rip apart oath breakers; the Giants: massive beasts of great strength and aggression; and the Meliai: a melancholy family of ash-tree nymphs.

But there was one last piece of the Sky Father left unnamed, floating along the water in a white foam of divine seed. Gaia blew the breath of life into the water, then watched as the waves of the oceans lead the mass away from the grizzly scene of patricide towards the quiet white beach of Paphos Cyprus. Here, in the crystal clear waves, something extraordinary happened.

From the foam emerged a shimmering pink clam that opened to reveal a head of thick wavy hair the color of blood, which rose as the being stood. With surefooted steps, a creature rose from the sea, a creature that didn’t resemble the Furies, the Giants, or even the Meliai. No, this creature was something else entirely.

She somewhat resembled the Titans in shape, with smoothe, earth toned flesh and hair that reached past her hips, but there was something different about her face and body that set her apart from her half siblings. Nude, as all beings were after birth, every inch of her perfect form was on display. Long, strong arms, a shapely form, ample breasts and a round bottom. Her dark skin glistened in the remnants of sunlight, giving her the characteristic glow of what Gaia recognized immediately as that of a goddess.

Her face was lovely, with eyes that held curiosity as they scanned across the beach she found herself on and supple lips pursed in awe at her own spontaneous existence.

“Hello?” she called out in a soft voice. “Is anyone there? Where am I? What is this place?”

Gaia didn’t answer at first, instead she watched from a distance, as she usually did in these types of situations. Best see how things will play out in her own absence before interfering unnecessarily.

Just then, the waves retreated from the shoreline, then rose up into what looked to be a wall that stood a great deal taller than the woman. Dropping down in a sudden downpour, two bodies were left in its wake. A man and woman dressed in thin, iridescent robes with bluish toned skin and black hair gave a shallow bow to the newly birthed woman.

"Hello," the man spoke tenderly, "I am Oceanus, the lord of the ocean. And this is my wife Tethys." His wife gave a small smile and tilt of her head.

The woman who had only lived for minutes inhaled sharply, then glanced around.

"Don't be alarmed, I won't harm you. I saw you appear so suddenly and heard you call out. Do you have a name, my child?"

She shook her head.

"Then we should see to it that you find a fitting name. I'm sure you must be confused, we can help you. And perhaps Mother would be so kind as to come to your aid as well.”

At the que, Gaia materialized in the sand, a grand creature shaped like any other woman save for the granules of rocks and mud used to give her large body form. Tendrils of the seaweed that had been floating along the shore were swept into the manifestation of Mother Earth and to anyone she appeared the epitome of a Primordial Deity in all her ancient glory. “If you knew I was here then I assume you’ve seen what Cronos has done.”

“You mean what you’ve had him do,” Tethys gently corrected. Her large dark eyes fell upon the soft fleshed woman standing between them all, not shivering in the draft of wind sweeping across the land. “Yes, we’ve seen. Is it not what you wanted, Mother? Father dethroned?”

“Not like that,” she answered honestly with a gentle shake of her head. “Your father wronged me and deserved to have his strength stripped of him, but not disrespected. Not disgraced. What Cronos did will forever taint my soils as the first ever blood crime.”

The three bowed their heads in silence as they contemplated what to do next.

It was the newly birthed woman who would break their thoughts with a soft, melodious voice, “What is to become of me?” All eyes turned to Gaia, who tapped a finger on her chin while brooding.

“You don’t strike me in the same way as the other creatures. And I can’t be sure that Cronos even noticed her being born, I myself would have missed it if I hadn’t seen the current pull away as it had.”

“What is that supposed to mean, Mother?” Tethys asked.

“Nothing. I’m simply making an observation. One never knows when such information can be useful.”

Tethys and Oceanus shared a glance at their mother’s scheming ways, but it was never a good idea to argue when Mother Earth was involved.

This was, after all, entirely her domain that the Titans inhabited. She was, and always will be, the great force when angered.

Uranous, the Sky Father, had learned this lesson the hard way.

“Oceanus, Tethys. I would like you to look after this child for the time being. I know you’ve your own children you’re rearing but she doesn’t look to require much care. She should be strong enough to carry her own weight, have her work hard alongside your other daughters and raise her to be good and loving, but also strong.” Gaia reached out and lightly stroked a sandy finger across the unchildlike face with round dark violet eyes glossed over like a sparkling amethyst. “She was born of your seas, Oceanus. She belongs with you. Take care. I can sense great things will come from this one.”

The woman’s eyes met with Tethys, who offered a sincere smile while taking her husband’s hand and offering her other towards her. “I have enough love to spare for one more. You are more than welcome to join us in our home.”

The woman looked between these three and, seeing no other alternative, took the light blue hand of Tethys and followed her and Oceanus into the salty water of the Mediteranian Sea.

And so, the world was given the one born of foam, Aphrodite.

Life with the gods of the world’s oceans was as good a life as any other Aphrodite could have hoped to have. The kingdom of Oceanus spread across the seabed, with a central, enormous palace in the deepest crevices of the seas, carved out of various corals blossoming in red, pink, and yellow reefs. The inhabitants of the kingdom ranged from the fish, whales and sharks that filled the waters to merfolk with tails in place of legs as well as those like Aphrodite with feet. The main difference between the foam goddess and other oceanic humanoids was her lack in ability to change shape at will like those truly born of water. In certain corners of the palace were air pockets that one could dry off and rest their weary limbs after a full day of swimming, which is where Aphrodite found herself most evenings stretched out on beds of seaweed and sponges.

Many years passed since that fateful day on the beach of Cyprus and the young goddess found herself happily living as a member of the Oceanus’ courts. He and Tethys raised thousands of children who would grow and leave to venture into the world, creating streams, rivers and ponds to preside over as their own domain. Many bore children, whose children had children, and so on and so forth. All while Aphrodite stayed the same, day in and day out. Her brothers and sisters tried for many years to try and find a suitable partner for their beloved, adoptive sister, but none caught her attention, though she caught many other’s eye. While she seemed to be, without question, the most beautiful creature yet to be born, she remained, for the most part, content with being single. The love of her family was all she needed, perhaps one day she would find a mate to settle down with but for now she reveled in her freedom of such responsibilities of being a wife and mother. Instead she worked on herself, studying the power of the sea in synchrony with Selene’s moon, helping to classify the many sea creatures she came across, to staying physically fit and maintaining strength. She was just as strong as any man in the sea and as fast as any fish.

For the most part, the goddess had a leisurely life. On any given day, Aphrodite and the daughters and granddaughters of Oceanus swam from one end of the world to the other in races, searched the seafloor for rare shells and gems, or explored underwater caves for new signs of life. On rare occasions they would find themselves on the beaches playing with crabs and gulls, but for the most part they were warned against going above the water surface.

“I rule all within this realm, but once you are under Helios’s sun, I cannot protect you. So take care, my daughters of the sea, to stay close and stay safe,” Oceanus told the women in all seriousness, though usually it would fall on deaf ears. The ladies had never known harm unto themselves or anyone else, truly this life was perfect without danger.

But Oceanus knew all too well that the world above was not as peaceful as that within his home. Cronos, after the death of his father, had grown more cynical every year. While at first his reign was dubbed the Golden Age for all the food abundance and peace that came after the initial slaying of his father Uranos.

The peace, however, was not meant to last. Over time, Cronos became paranoid that his rule was tainted by the curse his father spouted in his dying breath, that he too would someday be dethroned. It was said to be empty words by his brothers and sisters, merely the final cries of a being desperate to have the last say in how the world he helped reign over would crumble without him. Cronos tried to hold onto that thought, tried desperately to quail the nagging suspicions he had playing in the back of his mind like a fly buzzing in the ear of a bull. Until the day the ruler of all the world found out something terrible: his wife Rhea was begotten with child.

He tried to maintain his composure for the most part, but in the end, his own paranoia got the best of him. At the end of the infant’s gestation, Rhea gave birth to a beautiful, clay toned baby girl. While all of her sisters, who had helped with her delivery, were busy tending to the new mother, Cronos stood in the corner of the room holding the newly washed, freshly born child in his arms. She was small, incredibly so, compared to other children of titans. And she held a slight reddish glow around her fragile form.

How strong would she be?

How powerful?

His eyes went over to Rhea, who gave a soft smile in return. “Darling?” she called out.

But he didn’t move. Instead, Cronos looked back down at the infant.

No.

He couldn’t risk it.

To the horror of everyone in the room, Cronos raised the child by her ankle, high above his head, and with a crack unhinged his jaw like a snake.

He swallowed the child whole.

Rhea was so stunned she passed out while her sisters stood in mortification as the king of all the world quietly left the room.

Five more times did Cronus do this unspeakable act of consuming his children, each time sliding more and more into madness.

Where once the world was bursting with life, now it had grown dark from clouds that offered only lightening and thunderous roars. In a few places his misery hadn’t tarnished the lands and those who could fled to escape his wrath.

But those under Oceanus’ rule knew nothing of this pain and suffering, spending their days playing oceanic games and hosting grand feasts as their neighbors above starved.

It was on a particularly normal day that Aphrodite was babysitting for her adoptive sister Doris. It was nothing new for the lovely foam goddess to be asked to keep children, as she didn’t have her own and typically didn’t have any worldly duties like her siblings. She hadn’t a river to attend or a kingdom to rule, and so she found herself with her niece Amphitrite and nephew Nerites playing hide and seek in a grotto off the coast of Megiste. As children of Doris, Amphitrite and Nerites could transform into tailed creatures to help them to move through underwater caverns, though that did little to keep Aphrodite from catching up to each of them. She had been swimming for immeasurable years before these two thought of being born and she had grown to be as fast as her aquatic brothers and sisters, despite being tailless. Over and over, the children cried out in delight at their aunt’s ability to best them repeatedly at their own game, no matter how hard they tried or what animal they transformed into, she would catch them.

They had gone nearly one hundred rounds when Aphrodite stopped just short of tapping Nerites’ arm at the sound of thunder.

His high pitched voice echoed when he shrieked in surprise at the sound, making his sister laugh at his plight.

“You’re such a guppy,” she giggled.

“I am not, I was startled is all!”

“The water seems to be getting worse,” Aphrodite cut in, looking outside as the water began to pour. Fortunately, underwater seldom changed from the surface weather problems, but it still would warrant a cautious swim home.

“Did you see that?” she asked, her amethyst eyes rolling over the cavern walls.

“See what, Auntie Ditey?”

“I,” she narrowed her eyes, was that a shadow on the wall? No, it must have just been refracted light. No one ever came into the blue caves, she reassured herself. Most land dwellers were afraid of unknown waters. “It’s nothing. Who is ready to head back to see grandfather and grandmother?”

“Oh, can’t we play one more time?” Amphitrite begged, her oversized eyes sparkling with the last of daylight echoing off the water. “Just once, please, Auntie Ditey?”

Both children sported their largest eyed pleads they could muster before Aphrodite shrugged, “Now what kind of aunt would I be to say no to such sweet faces. Alright, darlings, we’ll play once more, then we have to hurry off.”

“We can race home!” Nerites offered in a boast. “I’ll turn into a dolphin!”

“Of course, and I’ll beat you like I always do,” Aphrodite teased.

The children turned her towards the cave wall and she proceeded to wait for their collective, “I’m ready!” before she began her hunt.

As they played their last match, somewhere just inside the mouth of the blue caves floated a wooden raft that had rolled inside to escape from the oncoming storm. A man quietly sat on his makeshift boat as he watched the woman and children playing until they swam away, mere feet away still unaware of him. In truth, he wasn’t paying them much mind until had a good view of the earth-toned woman's rise from the water to stand on the outer ridge of the cave’s wall before throwing herself back to make a splash. The children yelped in delight as the man’s jaw fell agape. She was lovely, in the most sincerest of forms, unlike any creature he had ever seen. Her dazzling eyes, her smooth skin, her flaming hair. It was nothing to him that she was nude as most creatures, particularly those of the water, chose to forgo such trivialities as hiding their bodies.

Yet here this man was, watching the woman with a rise within himself he had never imagined before. What was this yearning he felt? He didn’t speak up, in fear

When the storm passed, he made his way out of the caves towards the beaches of what would later be dubbed Athens. There he made his way towards Mount Othrys, where his father and uncle eagerly awaited his return. All the while, images of the enchanting woman played over and over in his mind’s eye.

“Atlas!” his father Iapetus greeted from the dining table. He sat as always to the left of King Cronos, who was brooding over a meal a servant had just served like it had been burnt. Atlas never liked his uncle, but didn’t care enough about politics to press the matter, rather he explored the corners of the globe in search of adventure and unseen lands. “I was beginning to think you had been held up somewhere and we’d have to track you down.”

“No, not at all, I got caught up in some weather just on the other side of the eastern islands. Nothing too concerning.”

When he took his seat beside his mother Clymene, dinner commenced and the guests took up their light conversations as Atlas stared down at his plate deep in thought. Around the table, he could hear everyone carrying on, his uncles Coeus, Hyperion, and Crius, his aunts Queen Rhea, Theia, Themis, Mnemosyne, Phoebe, and Tethys, and a few cousins whom he never took the time to memorise their names unless he liked them. As they carried on as normal, he replayed the images of the intoxicating woman he had seen in the cave.

Why hadn’t he spoken up?

Why hadn’t he asked her name?

“Dear, you’ve been out all day, surely you’re hungry?” his mother gently asked.

He heaved a heavy sigh before his eyes landed on his mother, her glistening light blue skin reminding him of the children that played with the woman. That’s right, they would have been descendants of Oceanus. And that woman, she must have been someone from his court. Perhaps a nymph of some kind?

An idea popped like a bubble into Atlas’s head.

“Actually, Mother, I was wondering. Tomorrow could we visit your father’s kingdom? I haven’t seen grandfather Oceanus in quite some time.”

“Oh, well, I’m actually going to be busy tomorrow, but I’m sure your father-”

“I can accompany you.”

The table’s idle chit-chat ceased as all eyes fell on Cronos, who rarely spoke at such events as trivial as family dinners.

“Tha-that won’t be necessary, your highness,” Iapetus reassured, “I know you must be busy with more important things than traveling into the realm for a family visit.”

“No, I’d like to visit our brother. I haven’t heard from him in quite some time, it would do some good to… catch up with one another.”

Atlas noticed the tension in the room thicken. As far as he’d known, Oceanus was as dedicated to Cronos as any of his other brothers, but there was speculation that Oceanus had closed his doors to most of those above sea level because he didn’t agree with the way his younger brother ran in domain.

But again, politics wasn’ t what interested Atlas.

For now, it was finding out who that mysterious woman was who had ensnared his heart.

#greek gods #Greek #Greek Mythology #greek myth #greek myths #greece #ancient greece #Aphrodite #cyprus #goddess #goddess of love #atlas #greek legend #gods #Titans #cronos

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irene-sadler · 3 years

Text

Sir Reynard and the Red Knight

1. my usual due diligence b/c some deeply programmed part of my brain can't not cite my sources::

are you interested in reading some secondary source material about the civic government of a medieval city?* or a primary source document listing the personal expenses of Henry VIII between 1529-1532, a line item of which i copied and modified for this chapter? well now u can i guess, go for it.

*(there's like no easily accessible canon info about what Rivia (the city, not the kingdom or the castle) is like, but after some side reading about other medieval cities it seemed like it should be roughly the size of York vs the size of London or Paris, which were the capitols of much more important kingdoms to irl western Europe than Lyria and Rivia seem to have been to northern Fake Europe. i mean, before Meve more or less single handedly fucked up an entire invasion force and yeeted herself into international fame obviously.)

2. i posted a short scene i cut from this chapter here.

----

In the days leading up to the fair, a veritable army of men in armor descended on the castle and town surrounding it, spending a mint of money and tearing up the grass of the green outside the wall with ceaseless practices and a few very real fights. The Baroness, who had graciously accepted the Queen’s invitation, became a semi-permanent fixture beside the hastily erected fence surrounding the field. Despite the cold, she spent the short daylight hours observing and offering opinions and guidance. Gascon arrived with a retinue of familiar-looking rogues that drew a dark frown from Reynard and threw himself happily into the endless clashes. The Baroness watched him for most of an afternoon, then in the evening delivered a detailed lecture indicating how and where his technique could be improved, which he cheerily took to heart. The result, according to his tutor, was that he progressed, somewhat, from a reasonable amateur to something like a professional.

Meve managed to keep her company often enough to hear many of her opinions. She noted bad habits and technical errors in almost all of Meve’s serving knights, with few exceptions; of Sir Odo, she only remarked casually that he yet showed no sign of losing a step, age or prior injuries be damned. She made the unusually enthusiastic comment within earshot of its subject as he offered advice to a young knight he’d unseated; he appeared slightly surprised and rode over, eyebrows raised.

“Was that a compliment, my lady?” he asked, looming over the two women where they stood by the fence.

“Would you like it to be?” the Baroness replied, giving no sign either way.

“Why not?” he said, matching her tone, bowed courteously in his saddle, slammed his visor down, and rode away. Meve stared distractedly after him.

“He’ll be an early contender for the prize, I believe,” the Baroness remarked.

“Well, he’s certainly my favorite,” she replied, airily.

“And doesn’t he know it,” the older woman muttered, then added, “That man has a target on his back.”

Meve returned to earth and turned an inquiring frown on her.

“Look,” the older woman explained, waving a hand to indicate the field at large. “There’s not less than two dozen knights here, and squires besides, as well as more than a few fighters who are neither. Some are no doubt here for the prizes, and some for th’ entertainment value, and others to catch a woman’s eye, but, no matter what their reasons, every man among them would very much like to defeat the Queen’s champion, make no mistake.”

The Baroness paused significantly, clearly waiting for her to see a point. Meve, aware that even Reynard lost a match, on occasion, failed to arrive at whatever it was; she shrugged dismissively and said, “Yes, and?”

“And, therefore, don’t leave his equipment unguarded overnight, or his horse,” she explained impatiently, with a slight eye roll; she added, as an afterthought, “Your Grace.”

“Oh.”

After dinner she stared contemplatively into the fire, paying no attention to Reynard and Gascon’s idle chatter nearby. The Baroness’s suggestion - or was it a warning? - weighed on her thoughts. So did the fact that she had yet to find a third judge; a difficult prospect, as whoever she picked might not suit, or, worse, might be inclined to see political significance where there was none. Further, she hadn’t seen the black knight, or even heard anything of him, in well over a week; it was arguably the least of her problems, but bothered her nevertheless. She was jolted out of her reverie only when Reynard shook her suddenly by the shoulder; she frowned distractedly at him, realized he had asked her something, and said, “What?”

“What are you thinking about?” he repeated, patiently. Gascon stared glassily at her, an expectant smile on his face. She explained about the judge, in brief, expecting their conversation to then go on without concerning itself with the matter.

“But why d’ you need three judges?” Gascon wondered, instead, slurring his words somewhat.

“Because there are always three judges,” Reynard replied stiffly, evidently less than perfectly sober himself.

“The third judge is necessary, I’m afraid,” Meve explained. “A tiebreaker.”

“Oh,” said Gascon, “I see. Well, what I would do is just get Gaspar or someone t’ do it, and say good enough; I suppose it doesn’t truly matter who does the job, in th’ end.”

“The joust is serious business,” Reynard said, growing somewhat haughty, “You can’t just appoint some ruffian who can’t talk as an official.”

“No,” Meve said, soothingly, before Gascon could react, “I don’t think he would do, at all, not to worry. However, Gascon’s drunken rambling has given me a thought - I don’t really have to choose the third judge myself.”

“What do you mean by that?” Reynard asked, suspiciously.

“Never you mind,” she said, casually, “You’ll find out soon enough. Anyway - I meant to ask you, Gascon, for a favor.”

“By all means,” he replied, cheerily.

“I need you to assign some of your more reliable and sober men to keep an eye on Reynard’s harness, weapons, and above all his horse, until the fair.”

“Why?” Reynard asked; Meve ignored him, temporarily. Gascon, on the other hand, seemed to immediately understand, and nodded his agreement.

“Oh, yes, naturally, you do,” he said. “I’ll put my best people on it, not t’ worry.”

“Thank you,” she said, and then explained herself to Reynard after Gascon departed to see to the matter. He frowned doubtfully and began, “I really don’t think it’s necessary to -”

“I know you don’t,” she interrupted, a little curtly, “It’s why I didn’t ask you.”

He fell into a slightly disgruntled silence, obviously offended; she immediately regretted her tone, blamed it on the late hour, and delivered a genuine apology, which he graciously accepted, as he always did.

At ten the next morning, she attended a meeting with the bailiff, aldermen, and Mayor of the city outside her castle walls. The Mayor was an ancient man who’d been installed in his position some years before she was born, and would not be hurried as he explained, at length, the procedures and trials of the next few days. She half-listened to his speech, delivered in the same didactic voice as always, and to the discourse that followed, well aware of the various topics that would be covered, as they were exactly the same each year for each fair - roadblocks, fire brigades, the necessity to have extra guards at night, the necessity to have yet further guards to keep the visitors out of the stockyard and away from the docks, the vanishingly small probability of snow. The Queen sat, patiently chiming in on the usual occasions to promise a detachment of soldiers from the castle and to offer the use of the stables in the courtyard, if needed, but otherwise waiting in silence for the meeting to wind to a close. There was, she knew from experience, no speeding up the unvarying process, and it was easiest to try; at the end, however, when the Mayor, as always, asked for any final remarks, she said, “I’ve one, gentlemen.”

The room turned as one to stare at her in collective astonishment; she had never shown the slightest desire to lengthen any meeting in the past, and the atmosphere grew wary and uncertain at the irregularity. She smiled at them, professionally, and continued, “I have a small request only: the jousting event that’s bringing you so much custom this year requires three judges, but I find myself with only two; I thought perhaps you could select the last yourselves and then send ‘em along to the castle this afternoon.”

She was assured that the thing was in their power to grant and departed in secret amusement, leaving the disturbed city government in full knowledge that, so long as she ruled in Lyria and Rivia, the troubling moment would never be forgotten.

The city council sent along their choice - a round, dark-haired young woman - some hours later. She received a very dubious look from Reynard when Ethan brought her into his little office, where he sat in consultation with the Queen. Her name was Giselle, she said, and she knew nothing whatsoever about jousting - although, of course, she’d seen many a brawl, because she was a barmaid at the largest public house in the town square; she was just lately seventeen, but had been employed there since she was ten, and fights were expected and even wagered on should the combatants be interesting enough. Meve was, for once, grateful for Reynard’s unyielding sense of propriety; he grew steadily more unapproachable, but said absolutely nothing as the girl finished her introduction and subsided into silence, casting an uneasy glance at his remote frown.

“Well,” Meve said, pleasantly, “It’s no matter; the finer details of the sport are easy enough to learn. I’m not going to force you, if you’d rather not, but should you like to be a judge tomorrow along with myself and the Baroness, you’re quite welcome.”

Giselle’s face lit up; she replied quickly, “Oh, yes, I’d love to, my lady.” Meve nodded, satisfied.

“Well, then, Ethan there will explain the rules and answer any questions you have; you may go along with him,” she said. Ethan promptly turned a brilliant shade of red as Giselle turned a broad smile on him. Meve drew on decades of diplomatic experience and managed to maintain a straight face as the pair attempted to make their escape from the overcrowded office, briefly became jammed together in the doorway, and awkwardly negotiated their way out, one after the other.

“Gods preserve us,” Reynard muttered, rubbing his forehead painfully, the moment the door finally shut behind them. Meve snorted a laugh at last, perched on the edge of his desk, and said, “She’ll do nicely, I think; seems game enough, given the circumstances.”

He shook his head at her and asked, wearily, “Is it too early to start drinking?”

“It is a holiday. However, those guard patrols for the town must be arranged, and I still have to review my steward’s reports -”

“I’ll bring the reports as well as a bottle, then,” Reynard decided, making for the door; she caught his arm as he passed, kissed him, and pulled away a long moment later to stare into his eyes. He blinked down at her, apparently struck as speechless as his squire, until she released him and said, “Go on, then; I’ll be here.”

“Actually, I’m not thirsty after all,” he said, not moving away. She flashed a smile, slid her arms around his neck, and didn’t argue.

Reynard did arrange the patrols, eventually, but Meve was forced to put the paperwork off; there was a feast to attend, and she had no time to read accounts before it began. It had to be held in the courtyard under the moonlight, because the entire city was invited and most of it’s more upstanding citizens had actually turned up, and, on top of them, all the knights and their horde of attendants; the resulting crowd would never fit inside the great hall. Even her usual courtiers had trouble maintaining stiff decorum in the open air, by blazing fires and with an astonishing amount of food and drink in them. The Queen herself sat at a table with the Baroness and Count Odo; the Count was companionably silent as usual, and so Meve passed the time chatting mainly with the Baroness. The women waved off occasional requests to dance in favor of a detailed discussion of feats of arms they’d witnessed during tournaments and battles, until, unexpectedly, Sir Holt advanced on them out of the crowd. The Baroness immediately paused, mid-sentence, and stared him down; he did not appear to notice her pointed, but wordless, dismissal. Reynard stiffened slightly in his seat, eyes narrowing. Meve sighed quietly; she of course knew the red knight was in attendance, because she’d spotted Gaheris out in the lists the previous afternoon, but had thought he’d have had the sense to avoid her.

However, all the red knight said to her was a polite greeting and a remark on the success of the evening, so far. She nodded at him in acknowledgment; he then turned to Reynard and said, “Count Odo - I look forward to our rematch, tomorrow.”

“Do you, now?” the Count replied, coldly; then, his conscience apparently made uneasy by his own rudeness, added, “As do I, Sir Holt; best of luck to you, when the time comes.”

“And to you, my lord,” the red knight said, glanced uncertainly at the condescending Baroness, and retreated without further comment. Meve glanced sideways at the Count’s distant frown and nodded to him resignedly. He needed no further invitation to quit the field, and, for some reason, the remainder of the event seemed to go on with a shade of awkwardness in his absence; her renewed conversation with the Baroness felt somewhat stilted, and the din of the crowd around them oppressive. The feast eventually ended with an inevitable speech by the Mayor, which not a soul attended to; the locals had heard it before and the visitors seemed to be unsure who it was that was lecturing them. The Queen then delivered some much briefer remarks, as expected, which received the crowd’s full concentration, dismissed them to their own devices, and departed.

An hour later, she was safely in her own private office, puzzling over a line item in her steward’s report: paied to Sir Roger Eres knight upon a bille of Sir John Kimborne knight 153 g., when someone came thundering up the stairs and burst suddenly through the door. Reynard jerked awake in his chair by the fire, alarmed at the noise, saw what had made it, and settled again with a quiet, relieved, sigh. She herself had turned a savage glare on the intruder, but subsided when it only proved to be Gascon, reeking of liquor and panting slightly.

“It’s late, Brossard. What do you want?” Meve asked, looking back down at her papers. She sat back with a quick, irritated, frown as the Duke strode over, slapped a wide leather strap down on top of them, and demanded, “Look at this.”

“It’s a girth, from a saddle,” she said, glancing from it to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes,” Gascon agreed, despite her warning expression. Reynard stood with a faint groan, walked over, glanced at it, and said, “Isn’t that one of mine? What’s this about?”

“Look there, by the buckle,” Gascon said, impatiently, pointing. Meve eyed the area and spotted what appeared to be a wrinkle or crack in the leather; she picked it up to study it more closely, and finally looked back up at the Duke, scowling.

“It looks as if someone cut it most of the way through,” she said. “And then, what? Glued it back together? A damn good job, too; would never have noticed it, myself, if you didn’t point it out.”

“It would likely snap th’ instant it took a hard shock,” Reynard added, taking the girth and turning it over thoughtfully. “But when someone might’ve done it, I don’t know. I used this just yesterday, practicing against Roland Orlac; you were there, Meve.”

“Perhaps they did it days ago, and it was just luck that kept it from breaking, then,” Gascon suggested, shrugging. “Or it could have been yesterday afternoon, before Pug and Gaspar started looking after your things.”

Meve swore angrily, already forming a long list of suspects: disgruntled barons, unscrupulous competitors, foreign saboteurs, domestic anarchists. Reynard sighed in weary agreement with her.

“Well, annoying as this is, it’s not my first overly bitter rival, I suppose. I’ve survived th’ others; this will be no different,” he said, pragmatically.

“Yes, well, regardless, it’ll be your last. Find out who did this, Gascon,” the Queen said. “I take attempts to sabotage my General’s equipment very personally.”

“I’ll do what I can,” he assured, grimly.

#thronebreaker #witcher #action #romance #sports

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kprciffdw · 3 years

Text

Kim Possible: The Extremely Secret Files-Intro

It was a dark and stormy night. It was also a fierce night, so fierce that not even a monster of a child's worst nightmare would be crazy enough to set out at a night like this. Oh, did I mention there were werewolves? Well, there weren't any, but that's not the point! What's important was something happened that night.

I believe it was precisely 1 AM when Kim Possible's arch-enemies, Dr. Drakken and Shego broke into the space center where Kim's father works. Drakken: "Come on, come on, where is it?" Shego: "OK…what exactly are we looking for?" Drakken: "You'll know when we find it, so just keep quiet!"

He kept searching until he shouted in excitement, which startled Shego. Drakken: "I FOUND IT! I FOUND IT, SHEGO!"

He held up what appeared to be a small device. Shego: "Great…what is it?" Drakken: "This, Shego, is Dr. Possible's secret project: the ISSF, Impossible Space Station of the Future!" Shego: "That thing, a space station? You have got to be kidding me." Drakken: "It may look unimpressive now, but believe me, it's a lot more than it seems. You see, Dr. Possible had been working on this project since he was still in high school. With this space station, I can finally rule the world!"

Shego seemed less than pleased from hearing this. Shego: "I hope you have a brilliant plan to go along with this because every time you come up with another "take over the world" scheme, Possible and her goofy sidekick, what's his name, always barge in, kick our butts and have us thrown in JAIL!" Drakken: "Don't worry, Shego. Things will be different this time. With this space station, Kim Possible will not be able to know where we are."

Shego was puzzled. Shego: "OK, I still have no idea what your "brilliant plan" is." Drakken: "Think about it. Why does Kim Possible always beat us? There's something that causes her to do so and do you know what that is?" Shego: "Well, let's see, not telling her our evil plan didn't work, putting her into "impossible to escape" deathtraps didn't work, either, trying to keep her out of our not-so-secret hideouts have been complete failures." Drakken: "THAT'S IT, SHEGO!" Shego: "OK, what? Are you telling me…that this space station is going to be…our new secret base?" Drakken: "Yes, that's exactly right! In the past, Kim Possible had always managed to defeat us because our previous bases have been too easy for her to find. But with this, we'll be someplace where she won't even be able to find us." Shego: "Oh, no, don't tell me, we're going to be in space, are we?" Drakken: "No, we won't."

Shego brought out of sigh of relief. Drakken: "We're going to be in another galaxy and one that Kim Possible has never even heard of!"

Shego slapped herself on the forehead. Drakken: "What?" Shego: "OK, hello! That's still outer space." Drakken: "Oh, right...well, whatever. The point is that Kim Possible doesn't know about it and we will be THERE! So let's go!" Shego: "What? Now? You mean during this storm? Shouldn't we wait until the storm has passed?" Drakken: "And risk having to leave in the morning when everyone is awake? No way! We leave now! Besides, this space station is weather-proof so it won't be damaged by this storm when we lift off. Come on, Shego, we have what we need."

Drakken walked off. Shego: "(sigh) I don't even know why I stay with you sometimes."

She walked off after him.

Outside, Drakken turned on the small device which instantaneously morphed into a massive space station, stepped in with Shego and blast off. As they leave Earth's atmosphere, Drakken was laughing maniacally. Shego just kept looking out the window, trying to face away from Drakken. Shego: "Seriously, I don't know why I hang around with you."

They spent a long trip flying through space. They eventually stopped in an unknown galaxy. Drakken stopped laughing, surprised when he noticed that the entire space station has stopped. Drakken: "Wow, that was fast."

Shego pulled down her glove and checked on her watch that she's been wearing underneath. Shego: "Hm, it's 3 AM and on the same day. You weren't kidding when you said that this space station is called "Impossible". This thing is beyond extraordinary." Drakken: "But of course, Shego. But where are we?"

Shego checked on a nearby monitor. Shego: "Hm…well, from what I can tell on this monitor, we're in some sort of galaxy called…" Drakken: "I don't care! All that matters is we're in some place that Kim Possible knows nothing about! Come, Shego, we have work to do."

Drakken walked off. Shego: "Hm, alright, Dr. D., you're the mad genius here."

She walked off after him.

Meanwhile, not too far from the space station, there was a space cruiser with 2 other beings on board it. One being was an animal-like humanoid, the other was a robot. Those 2 go by the name Ratchet and Clank. Ratchet, the animal-like humanoid, noticed the space station since the exact moment of its arrival. Clank, the robot, seemed concerned and walked over towards the window that Ratchet was looking out of. Clank: "Ratchet, you seemed troubled. Is there something the matter?" Ratchet: "Clank, that space station arrived over there just recently. It seems to also be a space shuttle of sorts. I…I've never seen anything like it." Clank: "Hm…that does seem peculiar, but not unheard of. May I see for myself?" Ratchet: "Go right ahead."

Clank walked up to the window and looked out of it towards the space station. Clank: "Hm…that most certainly was not there the last time I checked that specific location. What do you suppose this could mean?" Ratchet: "I don't know, but I have a strange feeling that something about this just isn't right."

Meanwhile, back on Earth, it was 8 AM; at least an hour after Kim Possible woke up. She was about to meet with her friend, Ron Stoppable, when her Kimmunicator rang, she answered it immediately. Kim: "Hey, Wade, what's the sitch?" Wade: "Kim, you and Ron need to meet with your dad at the space center immediately. It's urgent." Kim: "We're on it!"

She left to meet with Ron.

A while after she did, she and Ron met with her dad at the space center. Kim: "Hey, dad, Ron and I got here as soon as we could. So, what's the…sitch?"

She then noticed her dad sobbing with his hands covering his face. Kim: "Um, dad, you OK?"

He looked up and noticed Kim right in front of him. Dr. P.: "Oh, Kim, it's terrible, something important was stolen from here."

Kim became serious. Kim: "What was stolen from here, this time?"

Her dad seemed cautious as he looked behind both of his shoulders, then leaned closer towards Kim and held his hand beside his mouth. Dr. P.: "I was hoping not to bring this up too soon, but…the very thing that was stolen was a secret project of mine." Kim: "A secret project?" Dr. P.: "Yes, I called it the ISSF: The Impossible Space Station of the Future. It was supposed to be a space station to defy all space stations. I have been working on that thing since I was your age, Kimmicub." Ron: "Whoa! You've been working on a space station since you were in high school?" Dr. P.: "Nnnnnnnnot so much the actual space station as it was the schematics; blue prints, diagrams, the whole nine yards." Ron: "Wow, that must have been some hobby you had."

Rufus popped his head out of the pocket in Ron's pants that he likes to occupy. Rufus: "Wah-ho! Hobby!" Dr. P.: "Yes, it did start out as just a hobby, then it became a project when I attended college. Soon as I started working here at the space station, I had all the excess materials needed to make that project a reality. But then I met my lovely wife, then had Kim, and then Jim and Tim, which slowed down my progress for years but it was a break that was truly worth it. I have come narrowly close to finishing that project; I just needed to work on taking care of 1 tiny problem." Kim: "And that is…?" Dr. P.: "TV receptor. What's the point of going into space if you don't have any good reception?"

Kim had a displeased look on her face. Dr. P.: "And now it's…gone."

Kim pulled out her Kimmunicator. Kim: "Wade, can you check on the security cameras of this place? They might have caught whomever stole dad's…secret space station project." Wade: "I'm way ahead of you, Kim. What I found is something that you're not going to believe."

Wade then displayed an image from one of the security cameras of Drakken and Shego. Kim: "No way! So it was Drakken and Shego that stole dad's secret project! Don't worry, dad, we'll get it back from them. Now to find where they went with it." Dr. P.: "That shouldn't be a problem, Kimmicub. I've had a tracking device installed into that thing, that was encase I misplaced the darn thing, especially if it was in space." Kim: "Wade?" Wade: "Already tracked it down. The signal seems to be coming from a…what!? A far off galaxy!? Wow! That's one impressive space station, Dr. Possible!" Dr. P.: "Thanks, Wade. Although, I'd have to admit, even I didn't think it would go that far." Kim: "Hm…would that space shuttle you built be able to go that far, too?" Dr. P.: "Well…I wouldn't think it could at first, but if that space station did, then so could my shuttle." Kim: "Let's go."

Kim walked off; Ron went with her, he seemed very excited.

#Kim Possible #Ratchet and Clank #Ratchet #Clank #Dr. Drakken #Shego #Dr. Possible #Ron Stoppable #Rufus #ISSF #Wade #long post #Kimmunicator

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