#And the way they reacted was so far detached from what I imagined. They held no antisemitism in their heart and for a while I was ashamed

[zoey-angel]

Thinking about the Iranian person who asked to translate my work into persian and, when I said I'm from Israel, replied by saying they don't see why that's relevant, and can they please translate my work because they really like it and want to make it accessible to their friends. Made me question my entire worldview. Had it been a western leftist I would have been crucified I'm pretty sure

[naffeclipse]

AHHHH, ok follow up question because how could I not after that delicious angst?! (I still cannot get over the fact that he actually asked for forgiveness. Eclipse.)

So, now I'm SO curious on how he would even try and fix it after that. Because y/n was very clear on the not forgiving him part. Like, I imagine he of course wouldn't just try directly again so soon. Maybe he even has to just, sit down and consider everything. He knows loyalty. But does he truly know trust? The one thing he has now apparently lost regarding y/n.

Like, aside from his brothers, most of his thinking is in the concept of exchange. I wonder if at first he'd consider giving y/n knowledge of a similar type about him (as he held about them) would show them he actually wan't intending to use it as a means of hurting them. But then quickly dismiss the idea. Because not only is being vulnerable one of the things Eclipse hates (and maybe even fears?) the most, but it's also not just HIS past, but his brothers' as well. So not only would that be a repeat of revealing something without someone else's consent, but no matter how much he knows the vigilante values his brothers, I can't see him giving out any information to anyone regardless of who they are if it could even remotely hurt his brothers with something so personal.

Maybe he would just decide to stand back as he sorts himself out? His brothers are furious at him, and so is y/n, so what point would there be in insisting when that tentative closeness that had been building again just seems to have crumbled? So maybe he'd just be silent for a time? Actually thinking on how everything just goes wrong again and again and maybe thinking back to previous mistakes. Maybe realizing that the bare minimum to keep his brothers happy and trying to keep indulging his more violent tendencies isn't enough after all. Because after this, how much control can he actually claim to have over himself? Not to say he would suddenly just go, ah yes, they have always been right and I wrong, because it's undeniable that what he did in the past worked and it technically got them far. So it's an internal battle of how much of this is him and how much is him not bothering (or not wanting) to get his darkest emotions and impulses under control.

And oooh, just thinking about the other side as well! Like, y/n mentions explicitly that they are going to Sun and Moon after this, still needing the comfort, but it does seem they have some new bits of info to chew on. Nothing that they would go feeling bad about, and they would be more than justified in that! But I imagine they might discuss it all the same with the detectives, especially if they arrive stillclearly pissed off. I do wonder how the boys would react to y/n telling them of the encounter. Probably angry that Eclipse approached them so soon after all, but maybe surprised that he did not actually try to force them to stay and listen to him more. And what of the bits of the conversation y/n might let slide. Like knowing that Eclipse is very convinced that his brothers see him as nothing but a monster. And maybe y/n is also unsure about it. Why do they forgive them so easily anyway?

Which reminds me! Technically Eclipse never received an answer to that (understandably as it started the whole problem in the first place), and I doubt he will ask again after what happened. He never did receive the answer of why it was so easy for them to welcome y/n who compared to Eclipse could be considered a stranger. I wonder if he'd try to come up with the answer or just prefer to not get one after all. And if he does wonder, would he think it's because the way they learned of y/n's life under Afton's rule was in a detached way? An investigation that stated facts but involved no personal toll? Is it because in Eclipse's case they witnessed it from a closer point? Did they consider it a betrayal? They do despise lies because of those years after all.

Either way, I can see it as a very lonely time for Eclipse, trying to sort himself out after this, especially after managing some closeness that he might not get again for some time yet. I wonder if some radio silence from him would worry the detectives about him falling back to his old ways again...

So, so, so, so normal about Bounty Hunter Eclipse, I swear (Lying, so much lying XD)

AHHH OKAY! I had my time to chew over this, and eee, I think you'll like it! ♥

It is a horribly lonely time for Eclipse, but he takes much of his fury out on his bounties, so whoops, RIP to those guys, but that only proves everything that his brothers and Y/N are saying is wrong with him.

Cooling down takes a long, excruciating time. Eclipse has his head back on his shoulders and knows that barging in demanding answers and confrontation isn't going to work. He might not ever get back those bridges he was building.

Yet, after a couple weeks of isolation and ruminating, he ventures back to Sun's and Moon's apartment. He can tell by the slight window crack that the vigilante just made a hasty escape—which causes his hands to clench but it's what's needed. He needs to talk to Sunny and Moonie alone.

It's not the best reunion (a lot of those happening lately) but the same old argument begins about Eclipse and his ways before he snaps and flat-out demands to know why. Why can they forgive and love Y/N and see them in the best light but he, their older brother, can't be in their graces?

A long pause grows before Sun and Moon look at Eclipse and tell him that he's not trying. He's not better. Yeah, he quit being a thug for a stupid gang but he's still bloody and violent and obsessive to a dangerous degree. He's not trying to atone nor seek forgiveness. Y/N is, though, and even though Y/N doesn't see it, Sun and Moon believe Y/N to have a change of heart. They just want Eclipse to have that same revelation and try and come home.

Eclipse is shocked into silence. He doesn't say anything for a long time, and all there is silence. There's some much he wants to explode with until he admits that he can't. He doesn't know how to. This is who he is now and it is what helped them all to survive.

Sun and Moon tell him that it's okay, that he can, and that they will help him if he lets them. They will make sure their big brother survives, too. They'll take care of him.

It feels so wrong for Eclipse. He struggles with his pride and always being the one to watch out for Sun and Moon. He almost walks away again because that would be easier and his pride would still be intact, but he thinks of Y/N. What he thought was a perfect likeness between them is offset by the fact that Y/N didn't lose themselves to the darkness of survival, hardship, and pain.

Swallowing it all down, Eclipse at last nods. He'll try. He has Sun and Moon behind him now even though he's going to hate every second of this, he will try.

[justanobsessedfangirl]

The Sound of Silence - The Maze Runner Newt Imagine

Request from @ausblack: was wondering if you could write a newt x reader where she’s like the new greenie and the only girl. Everyone think she’s mute because she never talked and Newt decides to take care of her since he’s the only one she seems comfortable with. One day another glader attacks her making her scream and for some reason Newt recognizes that it’s her, he gets protective and helps her out. Eventually she speaks her first words to him and they both get together in the end 

Masterlist

Warning: Some mature language

Author’s Note: Sorry I haven’t posted in...a while. If it helps, you can think of me as a turtle. I’m damn slow and it’s pretty frustrating to wait but I’ll get there in the end! I hope I did this idea some justice because I thought it was pretty cool. Thank you for the request, I’m always open! (just remember the turtle analogy.) 

:)

Word Count: 3.6k

You stood in darkness. There was nothing in the darkness except for a quiet hum that rumbled the floor and the walls and the ceiling. It was power, some type of power that was running through this room and making it rise.

You stood in darkness. And you waited.

You weren’t alone, because your fear was so strong it had formed an icy hand, which wrapped around your throat, so tight it was hard to breathe. It took every ounce of your concentration to inhale, and exhale, and inhale again, and all the while the box hummed and rose, and you stood in darkness.

The hum cut off abruptly, the room halting with it. You strained your ears, and, through the loud beating of your heart, you could hear voices. Four heartbeats passed before the roof opened and the room was flooded with light.

You cringed away, raising a hand to block the brightness. Through squinted eyes, you saw boys encircling the room, level with where the roof would have been. Their voices floated down, gasps and shouts of “It’s a girl!”, and the sounds of shoving, bodies against bodies.

You took a step back, but there were boys above you there too. They were everywhere. One jumped down, making the whole box shake, and then you were turning around and around, looking for a break in the boys, a spot you could run through, someone to help, anything, anything, anything--

“It’s alright, love. We’re not going to hurt you.”

You whipped around to face the boy. He had his hands raised, and his eyebrows were knit together in sympathy. He had a kind face, with soft brown eyes.

Even so, any words you had were caught in your throat, caught by fear’s hand, trapped. Trapped, just like you. Your breaths came faster, your heartbeat quicker. Your hands trembled.

Across from you, the boy took a step back and looked up at the others. “Right, all you bloody slintheads need to back up!” He looked at one of the boys closest to the box. “Alby?”

The boy, Alby, nodded, then shouted, “Everyone, back to work!”

The crowd didn’t move. Your heart stopped. Your blood went cold.

Then, with a chorus of grumblings, the mob slowly dispersed. Boys peeled off this way and that, revealing grassy fields and large mountains in the distance. You peered closer. No, not mountains. 

Walls.

“It’s a strange story, love, but we’ll tell you all of it,” the first boy said. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off of the walls.

“I’m Newt. D’you remember your name?”

No. You’d realized in the darkness that you couldn’t remember anything. You felt strangely detached, like you were watching some other girl with no memories who was abducted and brought to a strange place. You felt pity for her. You felt sad for her. And you kept drifting along, only half-listening to the boy next to her, the one who said his name was Newt.

Newt stepped closer. You watched the girl watch him, watched his mouth move, watched the girl take light, careful steps to the edge of the box and climb out. You watched her stumble.

It was the feeling of Newt’s hand on your back, steadying you, that brought you back to reality.

“I’ll take you on the tour, love,” he said to you, pulling his hand back. In a soft voice, he added, “Don’t worry. You’re safe here.”

Your lips parted. Words sat on the tip of your tongue. Are you sure and How do you know and Please be right. And, also, lingering in the back, Thank you.

You swallowed and looked away from Newt.

He started walking. He kept a slow pace, both because of his limp and so he could intermittently point out buildings and people. “That’s Frypan, he’s the cook, and there’s the kitchen. Next to that’s the Homestead. You’ll be sleeping there.”

He spoke with such authority that you wanted to ask what his role in this little society was. If there was a cook, there must be a leader, and you hadn’t seen any adults around. But your tongue wouldn’t move, so all you could do was tilt your head to the side and look at Newt.

He scanned your face, then nodded. “I’m Second-in-Command. Alby’s in charge, but he won’t raise a fuss about you sleeping in the Homestead. We…” Newt ran a hand through his dirty blond hair before making eye contact again. “We haven’t…” He sighed. “You’re the only girl here. We don’t really know how the rest of those shanks will react.” Noticing your instinctive recoil, Newt hastened to say, “But you’ll be okay. Most of these lot are good guys. And the ones that aren’t...Well, they know the consequences. We won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

There was that fear again, running its hands along your arms, past your shoulders, to your neck. It squeezed painfully around your throat, so painfully that tears threatened to spring up in your eyes. You gave Newt a quick nod and looked away, into the fields he was leading you toward.

He read you like a book and quickly switched topics. “These are the Gardens. When I don’t have other duties, I like to come out here. It’s good work, but it’s also just a good place to be. It’s peaceful.” 

A short, round boy darted out of a row of tomato plants, cackling madly. Lumbering behind him was a tall boy with a shock of curly blond hair, who shouted, “Come back here, Chuck!” The younger boy, Chuck, gave no indication that he’d heard. He disappeared back into the plants, with the tall boy following him.

Newt sighed. “It’s mostly bloody peaceful,” he grumbled.

The smallest of smiles twitched your lips up. You forced them back down, reminding yourself that you were scared, that you couldn’t trust anyone here, and that the way Newt grinned down at you did not make you feel safe.

“We’ll have you start working here tomorrow, all right, love?” Newt asked.

You chewed on your lip, staring over the plants. Your eyes landed on the tomatoes, right where the boisterous duo had gone through. Flutters of anxiety filled your stomach.

“I’ll be with you. There won’t be anything to worry about.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Besides waking up with no memory, that is,” Newt added.

Your lips betrayed you again. Newt grinned, and the butterflies that had been flying inside your chest slowly started to settle down.

Newt led you through the rest of the Glade. You saw the Deadheads and the Blood House, learned about the various jobs and Keepers, and, through it all, you didn’t say a single word. Newt never pushed you. Instead, he watched for facial expressions. He responded to any tap on the arm or flick of your chin. He lingered in the comfortable silences.

As you sat in your room in the Homestead that night, knowing that Newt was asleep in the next room over, you felt your shoulders loosen, just a little. The fear was still there. It still held your throat tightly in its grasp. But you felt a trickle of hope springing in the cracks.

You woke the next morning to a knock on your door. Opening it, you saw Newt.

“Ready to get to work, love?”

You nodded. The smile you gave him was uneasy and weak, nervous and gone in a flash, but it made Newt’s eyes shine with happiness. He smiled the whole way to the Gardens. Under the shining sun, you weeded plants, hoed new rows, and picked vegetables.

Newt stuck by your side. He explained more about the Glade; all you had to do was point to a person or a place and he’d run through it, even if he’d already explained the other day. A few times, you found yourself picking out things you already knew, just so you could keep hearing his voice.

“And then Chuck convinced Minho and Thomas,” Newt said between laughs. Behind him, the sun sat heavy on the horizon, haloing him in gold. “He convinced Minho and Thomas to take the rest of Gally’s clothes and--” Newt broke off, devolving into laughter.

You hadn’t met Minho and Thomas yet -- they’d been busy in the Maze all day yesterday and in the Runner’s Hut all last night -- but you’d heard a lot about them from Newt by now. You’d also heard about “Captain” Gally, and you figured he probably deserved whatever ended up happening to his clothes.

Beneath the cover of Newt’s voice, you felt comfortable letting out a small laugh. It was the first noise you’d made in the Glade.

Slowly, Newt’s laughter stopped. He stared at you, eyes soft, his lips pulled up in a small, pleased smile. He didn’t say anything.

You looked down at the basket in your hands, trying to stop yourself from blushing.

After a second, Newt said, “Before we go to dinner, there’s one last place I want to show you.” He took the basket from you and handed it off to Zart, the Keeper of the Gardens.

The pair of you headed off towards the far wall, away from the buggy Gardens, the dark woods, and the noisy kitchen, where a hungry horde of Gladers clamored to get their dinner.

“It’s not one of the really important places,” Newt said as you walked, “so I didn’t show it to you yesterday.” His hands swung awkwardly at his sides, as though he wanted to reach one out, maybe to guide you, maybe to hold you, but couldn’t decide whether he should or not. You couldn’t decide whether you wanted him to or not.

All you did was nod.

Newt continued, “But I think, maybe, it could be good.”

As you neared the wall, you felt your stomach drop at the sheer size. You craned your head back and back and back, trying to see the top, trying to see if any ivy led all the way up. How could there ever be a way out of those walls?

A warm hand touched your arm.

Your head shot back down, eyes landing on Newt’s. The faintest pink burned on his cheeks, a glow from the sunset, maybe, or... You shook the thought out of your mind as he pointed to the wall.

Carved into the wall in front of you were names. Immediately, your gaze landed on Newt’s. Next to his, Alby’s name was done in blocky letters. Thomas and Minho had made their marks. Chuck’s name was squeezed between the two, as he often was in real life, when he’d inject himself into their days. You recognized enough names to figure out that every Glader had been here once and had left a permanent memento of themselves. Some of those mementos, like the ones with a single sharp line running through them, had already outlasted their creators.

“I thought, I don’t know...I thought maybe seeing other names would help you remember yours.” Newt rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the ground. 

Your heart felt warm in your chest. Yearning took over. You reached a hand out, tracing the closest names, looping through the letters, dotting the i’s, crossing the t’s. You wanted to remember.

Please remember. Remember for Newt. Remember for me.

You pulled your hand away and pointed to Newt’s side, where his knife was strapped. He unsheathed it out without a moment’s hesitation. When he handed it to you, his fingers brushed over yours and you could swear your heart stopped. You had to fight to keep your composure, especially with the feeling of his intense stare as he watched you carve the first letter of your name into the wall.

You felt, rather than saw, Newt step closer to you. Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, his smile almost took the breath out of you. Your hand stilled as you finished the first letter.

Newt repeated it, sounding almost awed. “Keep going, love.”

Forcing your eyes away from him, you continued carving. Each letter of your name was done with precision, right below Newt’s. It felt fitting to do it there, like he was some guardian angel looking over you, keeping you safe. Being around him made you feel...the English language wasn’t sophisticated enough to describe it. You felt warm. And calm. And the kind of happiness that made your cheeks hurt and your jaw ache, even when you weren’t smiling.

When you finished, Newt said your name, his voice reverent. “Y/N.” He repeated it. He glanced down at you. “Am I saying it right, love?”

He’d gotten closer than you’d thought. His breath nearly hit the tips of your eyelashes. If you moved only a few inches you’d be touching him.

You nodded.

“Can I ask you something?”

You nodded again. He was so close you felt dizzy. You would’ve agreed to just about anything he said at that point.

“Are you able to speak?”

Your nod was more hesitant this time, slowed by dread for his next question.

“Why don’t you?”

You wanted to look away but his eyes had a hypnotic hold on you. You shrugged half-heartedly. How could you explain that every time you tried to speak your throat closed up? That your mouth went dry and you forgot every word you knew? That your heart started beating erratically, and your palms began to sweat, and it felt like walls were closing in, and you felt the fear again?

Newt nodded. He took a step back, the tension in the air dissolving. Jutting his chin at the wall, he said your name again. A smile crept onto his face. It was that soft, sweet smile that had gotten you through your first days in the Glade.

It got you through the next week, too. A week spent trying other jobs, where your lack of communication proved rage-inducing for a certain captain and ultimately landed you back in the Gardens.

It was rare that Newt wasn’t by your side. Today, though, he and Alby were caught up in meetings with the other Keepers, trying to figure out how to discipline a Glader who’d been making inappropriate comments and trying to instigate fights.

Newt had told you the basics the other day. You hadn’t wanted him to go into detail. He’d seen that on your face and quickly switched to telling you about the first crops they’d tried to plant, which had been such a disaster that the Creators sent up multiple books on farming the next month. The conversation was much lighter from then on.

Being with Newt was so easy. Most of the others pushed you too hard to talk, which only made your throat dry up and your tongue feel like lead. You wanted to talk with them, sometimes, but...you couldn’t get the words out. You couldn’t think of them when it came time to speak. You had a mental block, barricades set up to keep you from feeling too comfortable here. Part of you needed to feel the fear that came with trying to speak. If you stopped being afraid, you’d start getting complacent.

The sound of the Walls grating to a close struck the same feeling in you, even though you were safe in the Gardens, well away from the terrors of the Maze.

“Y/N.” Zart’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. “Good job today. Some of the other shanks left a bunch of tools out, could you bring them to the shed? I have to track down Chuck.” His normally placid expression morphed into a scowl as he shook his head, his blond mop of hair flopping over his forehead.

You nodded. The two of you split off among the rows, Zart’s cursing fading as you approached a scattering of trowels and rakes.

You pursed your lips in disappointment before stooping down and trying to gather everything. You ended up with two rakes and a hoe tucked under your right arm, a few trowels held close to your chest, and a sharp hand pruner held carefully in your left hand.

Boys.

You huffed as you headed for the shed. It was a crudely constructed building that was made in the first few weeks of the Glade’s existence. You’d heard some other boys say that the first Gladers originally slept here, but Newt hadn’t mentioned it so you weren’t sure how true that was. If they had slept there, you didn’t envy them. It was smaller than your room in the Homestead, which was a far cry from large. You supposed it was in a nice enough location, though; it stood on the edge of the Gardens, close enough to the woods to catch some shade, but not so deep that you were alone.

As you neared the shed, you saw that you actually weren’t alone. A figure paced next to it, head bent low, features hard to make out.

You purposely tried to walk louder as you came closer, hoping you wouldn’t scare him. At the sound of a twig crunching under your foot, his head shot up.

You’d definitely seen him before; he had thick, dark eyebrows and a strong jaw. The bruise forming under one of his eyes was new, as was his now crooked nose. You were pretty sure his name was Connor.

“Y/N,” he said, stilling in his tracks. He made no move to help you carry the tools.

You nodded, gave him a tight smile, and headed for the door. One of the rakes almost slipped from under your arm, but you squeezed it tightly and took a few hurried steps.

Connor crossed in front of you. You veered to the side. His arm shot out and grabbed your shoulder, hard enough to jostle it and send the rakes and hoe tumbling to the ground.

“You think you’re better than me or something?” He was speaking quickly, too quickly, you didn’t have a chance to respond or adjust the trowels that were slipping through your grasp or push him away. In one quick movement, he turned and slammed you into the shed wall. Two trowels dropped. You clutched the rest closer, your breaths turning into nervous pants.

“Is that why you don’t talk? You think you’re better than me? Than us?” Conor loomed over you. He glowered at you, his eyes afire with rage. “Answer me.” He slammed you back again. Your head cracked into the wall and you let out a soft whimper.

“So you can talk.” His grip was vice-like on your shoulders. His nails dug into your flesh like he wanted to tear you apart. “So why don’t you talk? Why don’t you fucking talk?” Again, he slammed you into the wall.

Were you crying? Were you talking? Were you making any noise at all?

Were you even breathing?

“You make this place even harder to be in. We don’t need some fucking mysterious mute bitch when we have to solve the Maze. Don’t you get it? You’re a distraction!” Every few words were punctuated with a slam. The air whooshed out of your lungs in a pathetic cry for help.

You’d never tried harder to talk.

But now there was so much fear in you. Not existential fear -- real, in-your-face danger.

One of Connor’s hands released your shoulder. It ached in relief until his fingers wrapped around your throat and he leaned in close to say, “Fine. Don’t talk.” And he squeezed.

Each second was an eon. Your lungs screamed for air. Blackness lingered on the edges of your vision, closing in, closing in, closing in, leaving only a pinprick of light. Your legs went numb, as if they’d just fallen asleep, and the feeling worked its way up your body, down your arms, to your hands, where the last trowel and the hand pruner were about to fall.

Hand pruner.

You had no more air, you had no more energy, and yet your body was moving and you were thrusting the sharp end of the hand pruner into Connor’s gut.

He let you go with a cry, curling over and holding his stomach. Air rushed into your lungs, only to leave a second later as you screamed, “Help!”

Connor groaned and straightened up enough to launch a clumsy fist at you. You twisted to the side. Your foot caught on a gardening tool, sending you sprawling to the ground, clambering away on hands and knees, still gasping for air.

A wet hand grabbed your ankle. You kicked, connecting with something solid, and yelled out, “Someone help!” The hand left your ankle for a second, then you heard something heavy moving in the grass, and the hand clamped down on your calf.

You tried to wriggle away. People were coming from the Gardens, you could see their black silhouettes as the sun set behind them. You heard your name, shouted by your rescuers and growled by Connor. You kicked at him again. His other hand caught your foot, using you to pull his body further onto your legs.

He was heavy. He slammed a fist into your back, knocking you flat.

“Get off of her!” Your rescuers closed in. They wrenched Connor off and surrounded him. Warm hands, soft hands, gentle hands, helped you stand. Connor’s blood rolled down the backs of your legs.

“Are you okay?” Newt asked, his voice frantic. He held you, his touch like feathers on your arms, as he scanned your body up and down, looking for any injuries. “Is that--” he started to ask, staring at your legs. Mid-sentence, Newt turned away, calling for a Med-jack.

“It’s not mine,” you interrupted him. The words were hoarse and quiet but audible, and Newt whipped back around to face you, eyebrows raised in surprise.

His touch slid down your arms, his hands enveloping your own. “I knew that was you yelling,” he said. His eyebrows lowered and his face grew serious. “I knew it was your voice. I knew it was you, love.”

Words hung on the tip of your tongue. Words you’d meant to say your first day in the Glade. Words you’d wanted to say every day since. Words that you could never get out. “Thank you,” you finally said.

Newt smiled, so wide and so bright that your heart started beating like you were sprinting. “I’ll always be here for you, love.”

The distance between the two of you was quickly fading. “I know you will,” you said, and then, again, “Thank you.” A second later, your lips met. And you felt like thanking him all over again.

[peachy-panic]

WHUMPTOBER DAY 3: “WHO DID THIS TO YOU?”

This is the next chronological piece of Do No Harm, continued directly from this chapter.

Tag list: @whumpervescence  @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing @whumptywhumpdump

WARNINGS: Medical procedures, referenced/implied noncon, slavery setting, the usual.

The young doctor seems a bit skittish and far less cruel than the other Facility employees, and that comes with the dangerous notion that perhaps he doesn’t plan on hurting him. But that notion requires a naivety of which Jaime is no longer capable. He, of all people, is aware that cruelty can disguise itself in many shapes and sizes. Just because it isn’t obvious doesn’t mean it isn’t there, and that only makes it all the more dangerous.

There’s no use in hoping either way, he decides. Dr. Tate will either hurt him or he won’t, will either touch him or he won’t, and Jaime can’t — won’t — react. He has already made that mistake once today and will certainly pay for it later in ways he doesn’t want to think about now. He would do well to remember that he doesn’t hold any power here. Not in this room, this building, this life. And that, despite any arbitrary written rules, Dr. Tate is free to do as he pleases. 

At least he had removed the restraints from his mouth and wrists. Jaime can console himself with this small mercy. 

Those had always been the worst part of nights with Mr. Torley, on the all-too-frequent occasions he decided to use them. He was clearly very into them, and even more into Jaime’s fear of them. In addition to the claustrophobia they stoked in him, the use of restraints in bed had always felt something like a mockery. What use was it to restrain someone who can’t fight back regardless? The binds on his wrists and ankles were nothing more than accessories. The shackles in his mind did all the work to keep him still. And Mr. Torley knew that.

He does his best not to think about that now. Not to think about Mr. Torley at all, since that was what had gotten him in trouble in the first place. Distantly, he wonders how long the influence of his first Keeper will continue to stain Jaime’s existence beyond the termination of their six-month contract.

Dr. Tate, who has been buried in the cabinets above the sink for several minutes, turns back to him sporting bright-blue gloves that adhere tightly around his slender hands. He meets Jaime’s eyes for half a second before his gaze darts somewhere just to the left of his shoulder. 

“We need to run a couple of tests,” he says in a detached, clinical voice, all notes of lightheartedness from earlier removed. “I’ll need to collect some samples from you.”

Jaime nods once in acknowledgement, squeezing his fingers tightly, unconsciously around the edge of the table. There’s an unnatural pause in his cadence, and Jaime when looks up, he watches a slight twitch of movement in the doctor’s jaw. 

“Please remove your pants and underwear,” Dr. Tate says, his voice taking on a lower pitch. “You can leave them on up to your thighs, if you’d like.”

The slight shift in demeanor sets Jaime on edge, but he doesn’t hesitate at the command, even as a familiar panic claws at the inside of his throat. He drops forward from the table, his legs taking his weight. His thumbs hook the waistband of the thin, cotton pants he had been returned in, and he doesn’t allow himself a moment of hesitation before pushing them unceremoniously off his hips. He takes Dr. Tate up on his merciful offer to keep them partially on his body. The cold, sterile air inside the clinic is sharp against his exposed skin.

Jaime’s eyes find the ceiling as he prepares for the touch he knows is coming. He doesn’t look to see whatever tools and instruments Dr. Tate is laying out on the silver tray beside the exam table. He doesn’t have to. “We need to run a couple of tests.”  Whatever foolish hypotheticals Jaime once held in regards to WRU — what they did and didn’t know about the treatment of their wards — had long been shattered. 

Of course they needed to test him for sexually transmitted diseases. They can’t have a Domestic Companion spreading something to the next paying customer that buys their time and exposing their innocent charade. 

There’s a pause in Dr. Tate’s movement, but Jaime doesn’t look away from his spot on the ceiling tile.

“I’m going to touch you, now.” Dr. Tate’s voice is low and measured. “I need to examine you for bumps or sores, any abnormalities.” He clears his throat. “And I’ll take a swab from your urethra. It might be uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t hurt you.” Another pause. “Please, tell me if it does.”

Jaime’s grip on the table tightens, but he otherwise doesn’t react. Distantly, he is grateful for the warning, the bare explanation, mortifying as it is. He knows that the doctors here are not obligated to explain anything to the Companion patients, to seek consent in any form. Their consent was implicitly given in the contracts they signed at intake. He just as easily could have left Jaime gagged and bound to the table and gone about the procedure without so much as a word to him. Jaime is glad he hadn’t. 

Instead, Dr. Tate’s touch is light and professional. His gloved hands don’t linger, they don’t poke and prod to get a reaction from him. It seems, even, that he touches him as little as possible. Almost as if he is as eager to get this over with as Jaime is, which doesn’t feel quite possible. 

The fluorescent strip of light next to his focal point on the ceiling burns at the edge of his vision, but he doesn’t look away, using the mild discomfort as an anchor to hold himself steady. He concentrates on that instead of the gentle touches, gritting his teeth against any traitorous urges his body might provoke. Mr. Torley had loved that about Jaime — his responsiveness to touch — but not as much as he loved using it against him. 

His stomach sours at the memory, fresh humiliation creeping into his cheeks at the idea of something similar happening now. He doesn’t think Dr. Tate would tease him the way his Keeper had, but he still doesn’t relish the idea of becoming physically aroused in front of this young doctor, who couldn’t have been more than a few years older than him and, in another life, Jaime might have found pretty. 

The thought is gone almost as soon as it comes, too painful to linger on. The idea of another life. A normal life. A life at all. These are thoughts Jaime is forbidden to have. The phantom sting of an electric shock lights up the column of his throat and Jaime winces.

“Sorry,” Dr. Tate said quickly, misunderstanding the movement and withdrawing his hand. Jaime’s eyes finally fall to his as the doctor takes a step back, inserting the long swab into a glass tube and sealing it with a cap. “The worst part is over.”

Jaime is numb all over, but he nearly laughs. He knows that having stepped foot in this facility again, the “worst part” has not even begun. 

“I’ll need to collect another sample from your mouth,” Dr. Tate continues, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves, and Jaime absently wonders why they even bother wasting extra product on the patients here. “And we’ll draw some blood—” 

Something catches his voice mid-sentence and Jaime’s eyes flick up to his again. Dr. Tate looks at him, and then pointedly, hurriedly away. Jaime swears he can see his pale cheeks reddening.

“You can— We’re finished with that part.” He stumbles out. “Feel free to cover yourself up.”

Jaime does as he’s told, finding it somewhere within himself to be grateful that the doctor had kept the procedure professional. He couldn’t say the same thing for every encounter he’d had in the facility clinic before. 

********

Sebastian knows what happens next, and that’s why he finds himself taking his time with the rest of the visit. As soon as he’s completed the mandated intake exam, he is supposed to mark the patient as cleared in his chart and alert the handlers to come collect him. To take him back into the part of the facility where Sebastian has never set foot; the “residential” wing where the unclaimed Companions are housed between contracts. On all the promotional advertisements, it’s depicted as a dormitory-like accommodation. Now that Sebastian knows just how little truth exists behind their lies, he can only imagine it’s nothing of the sort. 

His mind conjures images of iron-barred cells and concrete rooms, of medieval dungeons with chains and darkness and filth. It’s a sensationalized version of what he assumes is probably the truth, but that doesn’t mean the reality is any less horrible. After what he’s seen in his time here and everything he’s heard, he has no doubt that the people who are forced to reside here between Keepers are subject to the company’s own brand of horror. Frankly, he’s in no hurry to turn his patient back over to their hands a moment sooner than he has to.

The boy is silent and entirely pliable throughout the whole exam, allowing himself to be moved when necessary and not so much as flinching when the needles for the blood draw break his skin. Sebastian is glad when the more… invasive parts of the exam are over. The boy had been no less compliant during them, maybe even the opposite, but Sebastian hadn’t missed the subtle changes in his posture, the way the muscles in his hands clenched and released around the edge of the table as he touched him as little as possible. 

He had looked up at the ceiling instead of at the wall behind Sebastian, as he had done previously, and Sebastian had silently prayed that the position wasn’t intended as a way to hold back tears. He doesn’t know how he could live with himself if he made this kid cry.

When the blood has been drawn, the test samples submitted for lab processing, and a full physical performed, Sebastian has run out of ways to delay the inevitable. He closes out of the boy’s patient profile on his screen and turns to him, hands folded professionally in front. 

“I’ll need to alert the handlers that your intake exam is complete,” he told him, probably unnecessarily. He hadn’t looked to see how long he had been in the system, but from his behavior, he assumes it’s been long enough to break his spirit. He probably knows these protocols better than Sebastian ever wants to. “They’ll come and escort you back to the residential quarters.”

110750 nods once without looking at him. “Thank you,” he says flatly. Then, there is a moment of pause before he lifts his eyes and seems to level Sebastian with something more sincere. “Thank you for… for letting me get cleaned up.”

Sebastian feels like shattering into pieces all over the cold linoleum. Instead, he tries for a smile and lands somewhere in the realm of a tight, thin line at his lips. “Sure,” he says, a bit mortified to hear the crack in his voice. 

He watches 110750 take slow, measured breaths as Sebastian makes the call he desperately wishes he didn’t have to make. He tries not to stare as they wait in tense silence for the handlers to arrive. Of course, Sebastian could leave the room if he wants. The intake procedure is done, and so is his minimal obligation to patient care. But something feels wrong about leaving him. More than that, something feels utterly wrong about this boy being taken out of the clinic, away from his line of sight, where he can’t see what will happen next. He only knows it won’t be good. 

A split second before he hears the clinic doors whoosh open, Sebastian steps closer to his patient, lowering his voice to a quick, urgent whisper. “Keep an eye on that broken nose,” he advises. “If you have any trouble breathing as it heals, please don’t hesitate to let your assigned handler know that you need medical attention, okay?”

The boy hitches in a breath but doesn’t respond. Sebastian takes half a step closer. 

“Look, you have a right to medical assistance,” he says, the words feeling like treason on his tongue despite knowing their written truth. “Even here. Even now. You can always come see me here if you need to. They can’t legally prevent you from requesting care. Do you understand?”

Unexpectedly, something dark flashes in the boy’s eyes. Something less like the fear and dread he had witnessed earlier, and something much more akin to anger. Anger at Sebastian?

Before the interaction can go any further, they are interrupted by the unceremonious swing of the exam room door. The same two men who had brought him in - one with a fresh bandage on his face - push their way in, stepping between Sebastian and his patient. 

“Up you go, 7-5-0,” Handler Hernandez barks, and the boy is on his feet before he can finish the command, his hands behind his back, head bowed. 

“Oh, look who finally decided to behave,” the other one - Smith, maybe? - taunts as he sizes him up in a way that makes even Sebastian’s skin crawl. Just as he had prior to the visit, the man shifts his gaze to him, a sneer permanently embedded into his expression. “Does he get a lollipop for good behavior? Maybe a sticker?”

The boy doesn’t look up at him, but Sebastian thinks he sees his throat move. He feels a swell of rage rise into his throat, coming to a boiling point for the second time since he entered the room with this boy, but he swallows it back, keeping as level an expression as he can manage. 

“He was perfectly agreeable,” he responds tightly, refusing to play into whatever mockery he’s initiating. 

Smith answers him with a dismissive snort, turning his attention back to the boy like a predator who just found fresh meat. “What do you say, sweetheart?” He asks, the thick rubber of his boots squeaking against the tile as he takes a step too far into the boy’s personal space. “Think we can go the easy way back, or would you prefer to do things the hard way again?”

The beat of silence in the room is painful as they await his response, which comes eventually in a subdued voice, through slightly gritted teeth and with his eyes on the floor. “The easy way. Sir.”

A snort from Hernandez breaks the tension. “Yeah,” he says. “We’ll see about that.”

With that, he is escorted from the room and seems to take with him all the air in Sebastian's lungs. Naively, desperately, he hopes for the briefest moment of eye contact before he’s taken away from him. But his eyes stay downward, even as a large hand curls around his bicep and makes him stumble in his gait as he’s yanked forward. Sebastian watches helplessly as he disappears from sight, one singular thought slicing through his mind on a loop:

Who did this to you?

[nopefun]

Interview #494: Ryan Frigillana

Ryan Frigillana is a Philippine-born lens-based artist living and working in New York. His work focuses on the fluidity of memory, intimacy, family identity, and visual culture, largely filtered through the lens of race and immigration. Embracing its plasticity, Frigillana explores photography’s relationship to context as a catalyst for thematic dialogue.

His first monograph, Visions of Eden, was published as two editions in 2020, and is held in the library collections of the MoMA, Getty Research Institute, and Smithsonian among others.

We spoke to find out more about Visions of Eden, his love for photobooks, and photography as a medium for introspection.

Lee Chang Ming Ryan Frigillana

Thanks for agreeing to do this! As we’ve just arrived into the new year, I want to start by asking: how did you arrive at photography and how has your practice evolved so far? Your earlier work was anything from still life to street photography, but your recent work seems to deal with more personal themes.

It’s my pleasure; thank you for having this conversation with me! Wow, looking back at how I’ve arrived at this point makes me feel so grateful for this medium, and excited to think of where it will lead me from here. I came to photography somewhat late. I was initially studying to become a nurse and was set to start a career in that field, but I found myself unhappy with where I was going. My mother was a nurse and I know what goes into being one; it’s not an easy job, and I respect those who do it, but my heart wasn’t in it. I found photography as a creative outlet during that stage of my life, and I’ve clung onto it ever since.

My first exposure to photography (no pun intended) came in the form of street and photojournalism. I would borrow books from the library a lot, consuming works by Magnum and other photographers working in that tradition. At the time, it was all I knew so that’s what I tried to emulate. Even early on in my undergrad career, these modes of creation were reinforced by curriculum and by what I saw from my own peers. My still-life work branches off of that same sentiment: the only names that were ever thrown around by professors were Penn and Mapplethorpe, so that’s who I studied. Thankfully over the years, I’ve been able to broaden that perspective through my own research. Though I don’t necessarily pursue street or constructed still-lifes anymore for my personal work, I’d like to think my technical skills (in regard to timing, composition, light) owe a debt to those past experiences.

I suppose now I’m starting to explore how photography can be used as language, to communicate ideas and internal conflicts. I’m thinking more about the power of imagery, its authorship, its implications, and how photographs have shaped, and continue to shape, our reality. That’s where my work is headed at the moment.

I liked how you mentioned photography as a language, which calls into question who we are speaking to when we make images and what kind of narrative we construct by putting photographs together.

In your work “Visions of Eden”, you trace your family’s journey as first-generation Filipino immigrants in America. I was quite struck by how you managed to link together original photography, archived materials and video stills. To me, with the original photography there was a sense of calm and clarity, perhaps in the composition. But with the archived material it was like peering through tinted glass, and the video stills felt like an unsteady memory. What was the editing process like for you and how did you decide what to include or exclude?

For me, editing is the hardest part about photography. Shooting is the enjoyable part of course because it can feel so cathartic. Sometimes when I shoot it feels almost like muscle memory in the sense that you see the world and you just react to it in a trained way. But with editing, it’s more of a cerebral exercise. More thought is involved when you have to deal with visual relationships, sequence, rhythm, and spacing, etc. The real creation of my work takes place in the editing process. That’s where the ingredients come together to form an identity.

When creating this identity, I not only have to think about what I want to say, but also how I want to say it. It’s like speaking; there are numerous ways you can communicate a single sentence. How are images placed in relation to one another? How large are they printed, or how much white space surrounds it? Are the images repeated? What’s on the following page? The preceding page? Is there text? How are they positioned on the spread? All of these little choices impact the tone of your work. And that’s not even mentioning tactile factors like paper stock or cover material. I think that’s why I have such a deep love for photobooks because 1) they’re physical objects and 2) someone has obsessed over every aspect of that object.

I’m aware that my photographs lately have a quiet, detached, somewhat stripped-down quality to them. I think that’s just a subconscious rejection of my earlier days shooting a lot of street where I was constantly seeking crowded frames and complexity in my compositions. As I’ve grown older, I realize less is more and if I can do more by saying less, that’s even better. Now, the complexity I seek lies in the work as a whole and how all these little parts can form something fluid and layered, and not easily definable.

For Visions of Eden, I wanted the work to feel somewhat syncopated and wandering in thought. That meant finding a balance between my quiet static photographs and the movement and energy of the video stills, or balancing the coldness of the illustrations with the warmth of the family snapshots. The work needed to be cohesive but have enough ambiguity for it to take life in someone else’s imagination. Peoples’ lived experiences in regard to immigration and religion are so complex that they can’t be narrated in any one definitive way. Visions of Eden, hopefully, is a rejection of that singularity.

Yes, there’s definitely something special and intimate about flipping through a photobook! For your monograph, you recently released a second edition which is different from your first (redesigned, added images, etc.). Why did you decide to make it different? Was the editing mainly a solitary process?

The first edition was a partially hand-made object. Illustrations were printed on translucent vellum paper and then tipped into the gutter of the book. When you flip through the pages, those vellum sheets would overlap over certain images, creating a collage-like effect. That was my original concept for this book. Doing this, however, was so laborious and time consuming, and not to mention expensive! Regretfully, I wound up making only twenty copies of that first edition. I wanted the work shared with a wider audience so that’s why I decided to publish a second run.

The latest edition is more of a straight-forward production without the vellum paper. With this change in design, I had to reconfigure the layout. I took liberties in swapping out some images or adding new ones altogether. Also, a beautiful afterword was contributed by my friend, artist, writer, and curator Efrem Zelony-Mindell. I still feel so fortunate and grateful to have had my work seen and elevated by their words in my book.

For the most part, yes editing is quite a solitary process for me. But there does come a point when I feel it’s ready, where I share the work with a few trusted people. It’s always nice to have that outer support system. Much of Visions of Eden was created during my time in undergrad school so I had all sorts of feedback from peers and professors which I’m grateful for. But in the end, as the author, you ultimately have the final say in your work.

Given that Eden is a starting point and metaphor in the work, I was thinking about ideas of gardens, (forbidden) fruit, and movement of people.

How do you view yourself in relation to your place of birth? In your series, I see the most direct links in the letters, old photos where tropical foliage is present in the background, and the photo of the jackfruit (perhaps the only tropical fruit in this series).

I came to America when I was very young, about five years old. For my family and for many other families still living in the Philippines, America is seen as a sort of ideological Eden: a land of milk and honey, of wealth and excess. We all know that’s far from the truth. Every Eden has a caveat, a forbidden tree. Which leads me to ask: as an immigrant living in this country, what fruits were never intended for me?

I honestly don’t remember much about my childhood in the Philippines aside from fleeting memories of my relatives, the sounds of animals, the smell of rain and earth, the taste of my grandmother’s cooking. The identity that I carry with me now as a Filipino is not so much tied to the physical geography of a place but rather it is derived from a way of life, from shared stories, in the values we hold dear, passed on from generation to generation. This is a warm flame that lives on in me to this day as I write these words thousands of miles away from where I came.

Photographs have a way of shaping our memory and our relationship to the past, which in turn affects how we engage with the present. The family photographs and letters used in my book act as anchors in a meandering journey. They serve as landmarks that I can return to whenever I feel lost or need assurance so far away from “home”. They give me the comfort and affirmation that I need to navigate a space where I never really felt I belonged. The spread in my book­­ that you mentioned—the jackfruit on one side, and the Saran-wrapped apple on the preceding page—was a reference to my duality as both Filipino and American. It’s a reminder and an acknowledgment that I am a sum of many things, of many people who have shaped me. If I flourish in life, it’s because my roots were nourished by love.

I like how you mentioned photos as anchors or landmarks. Isn’t that why we create and photograph? To mark certain points in our lives and to envision possible futures, like a cartographer mapping an inner journey. Do you feel like you and your relationships with those you photographed changed through the process of making your works?

When my parents took pictures of our family, it wasn’t done solely in the name of remembrance; it also served as an affirmation of ourselves and our journey—a celebration. Every birthday, vacation, school ceremony, or even the seemingly insignificant events of daily life were all photographed or video-taped as a way of saying to ourselves, “Here we are. Look how far we’ve come. Look at the life we’ve made. And here’s the proof”.

Now, holding a camera and photographing my family through my own lens still carries all of that celebratory joy, but with so much more possibility. Before I really took photography seriously, I never realized its potential as a medium for introspection, but that’s ultimately what it has become for me. In taking pictures of my family, I not only clarify my own feelings about them, but the act of photography itself informs and builds on my relationship with each person. The camera is not a mere recording device, but a tool for understanding, processing, and even expressing love...or resentment. Though I may not be visible in my pictures, my presence is there: in my proximity, my gaze, my focus.

Does all of this impact my relationships? Absolutely. Photographing another person willingly always demands some degree of trust and vulnerability from both sides. There’s a silent dialogue that occurs which feels like an exchange of secrets. I think that’s why I often don’t feel comfortable photographing other people unless we’re very close. Usually my family is open enough to reveal themselves to me, other times what they give can feel quite guarded. That’s a constant negotiation. After the photograph is made though, nobody ever emerges the same person because each of us has relinquished something, no matter how small.

Being self-reflexive in photography is so important. I agree it should be a constant negotiation, but it’s something that bothers me these days – the power dynamic between the photographer and photograph, particularly for personal and documentary projects. More significantly, after the photograph has been made, who is really benefiting. But I guess if we are sensitive to that then perhaps we can navigate that tricky path and find a balance. 

Right, finding that balance is key and sometimes there are no clear-cut answers. That power dynamic is something I always have to be mindful of. As the photographer, you are exercising a certain role and position. At the end of the day, you’re the one essentially “taking” what you need and walking away. There’s an inherent violence or aggression in the act of taking someone’s picture, no matter how well-intended it may be. This aggression carries even greater weight when working, as you say, in a genre like documentary where representation is everything.

I remember an undergrad professor of mine, Nadia Sablin, introducing me to the work of Shelby Lee Adams—particularly his Appalachian Legacy series. Adams spent twenty-five years documenting the disadvantaged Appalachian communities in his home state of Kentucky, visiting the same families over a long period of time. Though the photographs are beautifully crafted, they pose many questions in regard to exploitation, representation, and the aestheticization of suffering. He is or was, after all, an artist thriving and profiting off of these photographs. Salgado is another that comes to mind. This was the first time I really stopped to think about the ethics of image-making. Who is benefitting from it all?

I think the search for this balance is something each photographer has to reckon with personally. Though each situation may vary with different factors that have to be weighed, and context that must be applied, you can always ask yourself these same ever-pertinent questions: am I representing people in a dignified way, and what are my intentions with these images? Communication (listening), building relationships, acknowledging your power, and respecting the people you photograph are all foundational things to consider when exercising your privilege with the camera.

Well said! The process of making photographs can be tricky to navigate yet rewarding. Any upcoming projects or ideas? What’s keeping you busy these days?

Oh, let’s just say I’m constantly juggling 3-4 ideas in my head at any given time, but ninety percent of the time they don’t ever lead to anything finished haha. This past year has been tough on everyone I’m sure. I’ve been dealing a lot with personal loss and grief and the compounded isolation brought on by the pandemic, so for months I’ve been making photographs organically as a subconscious response to these internal struggles. It’s more of an exploration of grief itself as a natural phenomenon and force—like time or gravity. Grief is something everyone will experience in life and each of us deals with it differently, but in the end we have to let it run its course. I see these photographs as a potential body of work that could materialize as a zine or book one day, so we’ll see where that goes.

Other than that, I’ve been working on an upcoming collaboration project with Cumulus Photo. Speaking of which, I saw your photograph featured in their latest zine, running to the edge of the world. Congrats on that! It’s beautiful. But yeah, just trying my best to keep busy and sane, and improving myself any way I can.

Thanks! Looking forward to your upcoming projects! Last question: any music to recommend?

I feel like my answer to this question can vary by the week. I go through phases where I exhaust whole albums on repeat until I get tired of them. So I’ll leave you with the two currently on my rotation: Angles by The Strokes, and Screamadelica by Primal Scream.

Thank you for your time!

Thank you for a lovely discourse. I had a lot of fun!

his website and Instagram.

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[rumblelibrary]

Back at it again with mysterious anon,

Could I request some Niki angst? You've done one where the reader cheats on James to be with Niki so maybe reader cheats on Niki with James 👀

Muted [Niki Lauda x Reader]

Word count: 2k

Warnings: angst

A/N: This one makes no sense, I just wanted to break my own heart. Little narration, a lot of feelings.

Niki wished to be able to tear his ears off when he heard James sweet talk to you after a pre-season testing. He whispered sweet nothings to you, telling you how he would sweep you off your feet, bring you away to his house in England.

Then things got heated, he started mentioning how he wished to do you this and that. He didn't need to be specific with his words, Niki could easily understand the situation by how y didn't even flinch or tried to deny yourself.

He knew you, he knew you too well.

With him you have always been protective, jealous, proud of your relationship and there was only one way he could imagine you giving in.

You already gave up. He already lost you before that very moment, you slipped through his fingers like water through wood, following every curve and every wrinkle, weakening it from the outside until you got to the inside, opening it up, exposing it.

His jaw clenched, he pulled his cap over his eyes as he marched away.

There was no time to regret, no time to think twice, he had only one thing to do.

Throw the soaked wood away.

You were speechless the moment you came home to find your stuff already dislocated outside the door, your keys completely useless in the brand new locker.

Very Niki: efficient, resolute and without looking back.

You knocked at the door, you waited but there was no answer.

Your eyes darted down onto the simple and effective doormat you brought, or was it already there when you moved in? As you wondered why it had to end like this, you didn't even act surprised, you knew perfectly what you did and you took full responsibility over your actions.

You were no saint in this situation and maybe it was bold of you to just expect confrontation from Niki.

You considered to just leave, even if pained you to go like that, but you were temporary bruiselessp, you knew actions weren’t the most painful weapon in Niki’s arsenal, it was his cut throat way of speaking and in particular when it came to you.

Before you could have the time to realise that it wasn’t a punishment but a chance the door opened. Wild curls and beaming eyes, simple home clothing and steady hands.

He was everything you ever wanted and all you could never achieve.

“Niki” you murmured as you looked at him “Listen”

He looked at you eyebrows up “Oh, no I think I heard enough today between you and Hunt”

“No, no, now you’ll listen”

You paced inside the house quickly to stand in front of him, a visible frown over

your features.

Don’t do it, you ket telling yourself, just leave, just go, don’t confront him, you can’t win.

He was right, you cheated but it was’t pure lust, it wasn’t like you enjoyed to hurt him and hadn’t felt a single beat of guilt, you just wanted him to know that.

“Tell me the truth, were you even serious with me?”

You asked him and the question made him cringe.

“Like what? The doubt made you wish to make sure you will always have a bed to sleep into? We lived together, sounds pretty serious to me, evident if you apply a bit of brain power in it”

You frowned as he was hurt and he was attacking you but he saw you wanted to talk and he smirked shaking his head “What are you doing? Finding a way to put the blame on me?”

“I just want to talk Niki” you groaned but he rolled his eyes

“No, you just want to tell me why you did it”

He was stone cold, maybe you hoped he’d react somehow, maybe a bit, maybe just a bit. And now he was just humiliating you even more. No matter the pain of being cheated on, he wouldn’t let you win that either.

In that moment you realised that your gut feeling was right, you should have just disappeared.

“Go on, how bad can I have been to make you decide it was better to fuck James Hunt?”

“You never cared about me”

It was dry as an answer, you hated yourself forn ot being able to express all you went through now that it was the time, his eyebrows shot up in disbelief and a bit of

sassiness. He was mocking you.

“Didn’t I?”

“No, not when you’re constantly dismissing me, telling me anything I say it is stupid or judging anything I do from your superior being. Anything I did was poorly done, or not the right moment or just not enough for you”

“You’re not stupid, but clearly you need to see everything through your heart shaped eyeglasses, right? You need confirms and words and speeches and big excitement. Well, go play the princess somewhere else, what I offered you will be the only true relationship you’ll ever have, and you know it. I never lied to you, I never cheated on you, I tried to better somebody that liked to stay as she is, that’s my only fault”

“I didn’t want to be somebody else, I just wanted you to care about something, anything that was not your job”

“So fucking around was a better choice to keep your ego up”

“No, but at least somebody would gave a fuck about me”

You snapped back immediately to him, you couldn’t remember the last time

you and Niki had sex, maybe a little shag in the middle of the night but it

felt more like trying to get rid of the tension to fall asleep.

He rolled his eyes like little he cared, his hands opening like you just stated what you had to do:get the fuck out.

That always hurt you: the fact that whenever he seemed driven to you, he would pull you into amazing kisses and heated love sessions but always at his time, his desires. If you ever leaned to kiss his neck or reach for him when he was busy or doing something more important, which was most of the times, he would shrug you off, literally closing the space between his neck and shoulder, stretching his back to get you away.

Not now.

Stop it.

Don't be like this.

You really aren’t good at picking timings, are you?

Those words hunted you day by day, you felt like he didn't need you, like anything you did was wrong, flawed, helplessly meant to annoy him one way or another.

You always seemed to organise dates in the wrong days, to wish to stay lazy at home on the wrong day, to pick the wrong moment, the wrong occasion, the wrong words, the wrong topic.

There were times you even woke up with him, you would sit at the breakfast table with him, not knowing if to engage a conversation or just trying to show him your support. You just wanted to see him even if you didn’t know if he would stay outside for the night or leave for some business meeting or whatnot.

But it was never worth it, it was never enough.

Every time you engaged him for confirms or any kind of formal commitment you always were out of place, out of time.

Your touches denied, no sweet words for your ears. You felt like a shadow beside him, you weren't there for the good and neither fo the bad. You weren't into his thoughts and not even into his hopes.

You grew detached from him, angry, you wished to hurt him even though every time you found yourself staring in his eyes you felt bubbles in your stomach and an happy feeling. A voice in your chest telling you how much you cared, how dear he was to you.

And yet , no fondness was reserved to you, no tender touches or gentle words.

It was just the bare minimum of a relationship.

So it felt natural, terribly natural that when somebody, it was James but you know anyone could have worked it out, gave you the backhand of attention you felt loved and blessed. Did your heart flutter when you saw him? Probably not, but he held your hand, he wanted to spend time with you, he stayed in bed after sex with you, he held you and not just dealt with you. You didn’t feel dumb every second of your day with him.

Because that's how Niki made you feel.

Like you were a burden and you'd gladly relieve him now from that, even if you never wished for it to happen this way.

Not reducing it all to the unstoppable drive of sex, your pain was discarded, once more.

You probably deserved it, you got it in the moment you admitted your weakness to him, the moment you slipped into some other man’s bed instead of facing him.

Or maybe, admit it, maybe you just hoped that he would lose control.

Just once, just one time he would have to put the rest aside and focus only on you.

"Now that you wasted some more of my time" he held the door open and waited.

You felt anger and sadness mixed up, the realisation that even now you couldn't win against him.

You'd never get your point across, you will just be the cheater and he would be right.

The loud slam followed your exit as your eyes dropped onto the couple of luggages belonging to you, all your stuff. You never realised it was so little.

You didn't feel like seeing James, let out friends and family that will give you random hypocritical phrases to cheer you up.

Maybe you'll go to an hotel, maybe you'll just leave.

You wished to change your name, change yourself.

The instinctive thought that crossed your mind made you gag, because for a moment, just a random malicious moment, you imagined how beautiful it could be to start from the beginning with Niki.

And maybe you won't do the same mistakes, maybe you'd be better.

James told you many times that you didn't have a reason to feel less than Niki, but the truth was that after hearing to be wrong, do wrong and act wrong, you begun to believe it.

And as you dragged your stuff t the car and drove off you begun wondering what life could be without Niki and while watching you and your little suitcases he wondered why you have such a small amount of things. He wondered if you have always looked so frail, he wondered if there will ever be an after you.

Or maybe, all hope was leaving with you, you were his Pandora’s box, a box full of all the feelings he prohibited himself to distract him and the hope was leaving with you, hidden tightly in the perfect cage of your chest.

Far from him, safer.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog

[pure-kirarin]

The enchanting croon - Sabo x f!mermaid reader

A/N : Beware this very cute scenario that kept haunting me while I was swimming in the pool haha. I decided to break from the enchantment by writing it. I hope that you will like it as much as I do, because honestly, this is my favourite Sabo x reader scenario I have written for now. I added the song I listened to while writing this, as I looked at the sunset from my terrasse~ (look at the end of the post) Synopsis : Two different people cross paths only to share an enchanting moment, threading a fine line between dreams and reality.

Warnings : None. Enjoy.

-

“There isn’t much to explore, huh ?”

Sabo surmised as he wandered around the island. He didn’t care enough to follow Koala on her little shopping trip. The blond had most of his clothes tailored to his own tastes and fitted for his figure. He didn’t care much about fashion, but he prefered to own a few pieces of clothing that reflected his style and tastes rather than owning too many. He took advantage of these few moments of peace to explore the island and maybe gather some information for their next mission. Even when the young man had free time, he would always find a way to make it about work. The sunset was now approaching big times and he started to think about returning to the meeting point with Koala.

However, he wanted to spend some calm time by the beach before going back. In fact, he appreciated meditating on his own and gathering some alone time, away from his partner’s reprimands.

As he took a few more steps towards the tortuous alley, a gentle humming caught Sabo’s trained ears. The humming added a reverie-like beam to the atmosphere, it was as if he was stepping in some unreal territory. As he got closer , the enchanting voice got more distinguishable and it sounded now more like a chant. The gentle melody dragged him in, enchanting all his senses, in the span of a few seconds he was totally captivated.

He was curious to discover the origin of this croon. The dimness of the alley fell away the closer he came to the end, burned away by the colors of the sunset. Orange, yellow, red, all merged together, reflecting on the beach. And there, you sit in all your glory, offering him your back.

“So, this is what a mermaid’s singing sounds like ?” he thought to himself.

The notes were soft, but in your voice laid some melancholy that reached a deep part of his soul. He stood there in awe, he was petrified by the beauty of this magical moment. The way the notes rolled off your tongue, the way the light reflected on your scales made them glow like pure gold. He wanted to look longer, tracing every single image in his memory so he doesn’t forget about it.

He didn’t move by an inch, looking at you combing your hair with what looked like a golden comb, ornamented with little diamonds that glowed like stars under the sun. As much as he wanted to see the face of the fae creature that enchanted all his senses, he held back, unwilling to stop the chant.

He understood now the legends he read about mermaids, but how could such a beautiful song be one of destruction ?

But to his disenchantment -or would it be to his enchantment ?- the singing stopped abruptly. You turned your face towards him, sensing his presence, and the comb automatically fell from your frail hand.

A second was enough for him to react, he knew how to recognize terror in one’s eyes. He knew it too much, having worked for the revolutionaries for such a long time. You moved your tail, ready to disappear into the sea as if he had seen something that he was not supposed to see.

“Wait !” He didn’t move, he knew that if he did, you would be even less convinced to stay. “I won’t hurt you.”

You were already in the water, but as you heard the man’s voice, your movements got slower, as if you hesitated whether to go back or to stay.

“I am sorry I looked at you, that wasn’t very gentlemanly of me.”

He continued, his even voice was calming to you. No human has ever talked to you, you were excited and curious, but at the same time terrified.

Your intuition told you that he was a good man, the internalized voices of your parents and your likings said otherwise.

He sensed your inner conflict and decided to leave the choice up to you. He has met mermaids before but he has never talked to any. The mermaids he knew were also very different from you. Mostly ones he freed among other slaves, or older mermaids that were a part of a pirate crew. He got closer and his hand grasped the comb that fell on the shore minutes ago. His eyes scrutinized the arabesques that ornamented it. He then held it towards you.

“I think this belongs to you.”

You turned back and got closer to the rock where you were seated before he interrupted you. You leaned your upper body completely against it. Then, holding eye-contact, you stretched your delicate arm towards his. Without breaking eye contact your fingers grasped the comb, snatching it off his fingers, then, holding it close to your bosom. Your chest lifted up and down, your breath seemed heavy and you didn’t dare move. You seemed scared. His big black eyes were full of compassion as he could only imagine the reason behind your fear of humans.

“May I take a seat ?” he attempted. You nodded your head energetically, and he took place next to you on the huge rock. You inspected him with curiosity, but you didn’t move yet. In reality, you were now feeling that he wasn’t much of a threat, but you were still a bit scared.

“So, you understand me. Can you speak as well ?” you nodded again.

“My name is Sabo. Nice to meet you.”

You leaned towards his face inspecting it closely, your hand reached out to his cheek a few times but you were quick to hold back. You were very curious as you have always wanted to know more about humans. Sadly, everyone on your island said that humans were horrible creatures that would enslave and abuse mermaids. A few stories about mermaids being sold in auction houses were enough to scare you.

“Sabo” you repeated. He smiled and said back

“Yes, Sabo, that’s my name.”

“Sabo is a funny name.” your melodious laugh was contagious.

“You think so ? It’s short for sabotage. You’re right !” He laughed to lighten up the mood, a gloved hand scratching his neck.

“Humans have funny names.” You commented, taking his words literally.

“Not everyone. But it’s true that I have a rather peculiar name.” he smiled and you mirrored his smile.

You looked at the way the sun reflected on his golden locks and you thought that it looked so beautiful. You took place next to him now, you turned your face towards him, not able to detach your eyes from his sight. It wasn’t every day that you were able to see humans this close after all.

“My name is (Y/N) !”

“(Y/N), nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

Your eyes now lowered, looking at his legs, head blown away by how different his body was from yours. He noticed that and couldn’t refrain from smiling. It was the same for him actually, but he tried not to scare you away by dwelling on your body, it was breathtaking and he felt extremely lucky to share such a moment with a dreamy creature.

“So, what were you doing here ? And why is there no one by the beach ?” he asked.

“I like to come watch the sunset. It takes around half an hour of swimming for me to get here, but it’s pretty much worth it...This is the only time that I can come here unbothered.”

“And why is that ?” he asked gently. He encouraged you to talk more, trying to get you to feel more comfortable.

“Oh, it’s because it’s prayer time. The citizens of this island pray at this time, so there is no one by the beach. I spend half an hour here before going back home. I like to sing and enjoy the fresh air...This is why I was very surprised to see you here…”

“I am not a local, you are right. I had no idea about this. I am sorry again for earlier, your voice sounded really enchanting.” He complimented and you looked in front of you now, blushing a bit. It was the first time that someone, a man, a human man, complimented you.

“Was it your first time listening to a mermaid sing ?”

“Yes” his answer was simple and fast, he enjoyed the sunset, not looking your way so he doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable.

“It’s my first time too. Seeing a human.”

“How is it ? Is it different from what you have imagined ?”

Sabo tried to put himself in your shoes, or should I say- in your scales. He was genuinely fascinated by how big the universe is, and how different it should feel to be someone else. Life as a mermaid must be very different from his own. This conversation he was having with you was an opportunity for him to see things through your eyes.

He thought about the privilege he had as a human, and how he would often forget to his dismay, that the world was far bigger and that everyone had different experiences. And that was what he fought for, he fought for a world where a mermaid and a human could meet and where it would be natural.

“It is different.” You said as you veered your eyes towards his face once again. You seemed unable to contain your excitement. Your eyes shined like those of a child with an insatiable curiosity. “For example, I knew that humans had legs, but I have never seen legs before...Can I..Can I feel them ?” you hesitated.

“Of...of course.” he stuttered a bit, surprised by your question, but he had to remind himself that you were just fascinated by your differences and that it was just an innocent request.

You put your hand on his thigh and squeezed it before laughing. “It’s hard, different from my tail. You want to touch it as well ?”

His cheeks were rose colored as he thought that you really had no idea of the hidden meaning of your words. He then took off his gloves and touched your tail with the tip of his fingers. You put your hand on his and pressed it on your tail while laughing

“Come on, don’t be scared. It doesn’t hurt.”

“It feels soft, like a fish.” He said.

“Well, I am technically half a fish, so that’s right.” You let go of his hand and added. “Also, I imagined humans to be more...scary ? I am sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude to you. It’s just that- it’s complicated between humans and mermen. My parents have always warned me of humans.”

“I know” Sabo was now looking at the sky with dreamy eyes “And your parents were probably right. They worry about you. Most things that you have probably heard about humans are unfortunately true.”

Your shimmer smile faded away leaving an expression of melancholy and sadness on your traits.

“But not everyone is like this.” He looked back at you with a determined expression. “I am a revolutionary. I fight for freedom and equality, for a world where humans and all other species will be considered equal. I am sorry that the world isn’t a safe place for you at the moment, (Y/N).”

You smiled lovingly and pressed on his hand. You could feel that the man was incredibly sincere and you were moved by his words. You then added, and in your voice he could discern that same tone of sadness and melancholy that he heard in your singing ;

“That’s very admirable of you, Sabo. I have always dreamt of..Of walking outside freely and meeting humans. Life underwater is fun, but it’s also just one percent of what is there to see in this world...I think that it’s unfair that I’m not allowed to discover all of these things…” your eyes almost teared up as you said those things. “But your words give me hope. I wish more people were like you, Sabo. I don’t understand much about “revolutionaries”. But you sound like good people.”

There wasn’t much to be understood, only to be felt. You put your head on his shoulder and he hesitated before rubbing yours in a comforting way. You were just two people sharing a connexion, something that was soul-level and that words couldn’t express. You were the embodiment of what he was fighting for. And you being there, so beautiful, yet like a bird in a cage, tore his heart apart.

With a swift move you plunged into the sea and dragged him away from his hand. “Come on, that was really depressing. Let’s swim together.” You said with a laugh.

“W-wait !” he protested. “I can’t swim !” you looked at him with big eyes. He was already starting to sink a bit when you got closer to his body and put his arms around your neck.

“Hold onto me really well then !” you said with a mischievous smile.

He did as you asked and was surprised with the ease with which you held his body and with how fast you swam.

“And why can’t you swim ? Are you scared ?” you teased a bit.

“It’s not that, I am a devil fruit holder. But I loved to swim before.”

You heard about devil fruits before, but only in books. You have never witnessed such a power and believed it to be a legend. But you also knew that devil fruit eaters can’t swim, since devil fruits were cursed by the sea.

“What kind of power do you have ?” you asked, curious as you bring Sabo back to the shore. He got up, turning his fist into flames under your admiring gaze :

“I can control flames”

“That’s pretty impressive. I wonder if I can get such a cool power one day as well.” You smiled.

“Who knows ? What kind of power would you like to have ?” he asked as he took off his jacket and shirt, wringing them to get rid of the water. You got lost looking at his body and how handsome he was. He really did look charming. You then recollected your thoughts trying to think about his question :

“I have never thought about that. I didn’t think that devil fruits existed until today. I like talking to you Sabo, you taught me so many things.”

You tapped the place next to you back at the rock, gesturing for him to take a seat which he does.

“I like talking to you too, (Y/N), it’s refreshing. You have such a pure and innocent way of viewing the world.”

He meant that it was easy for you to warm up to him, and it gave him hope. It felt as if you were ready to see the good in everything. But he knew that this could also put you in danger, as some people could have bad intentions towards you, especially that mermaids were unfortunately targeted by slave traffickers.

“Gee, if my parents knew that I’m here with a human, they’ll kill me~” you mused.

He tapped your shoulder in a comforting way and said :

“They don’t need to know for now, but I promise you that I will do my best so that humans and mermen can live in peace. This way, your parents won’t be so worried about you coming here.”

Without a thought, you encircled the man’s neck with both your arms.

“Thank you so much Sabo” you chirped. He put a hand on your back, taken aback by the proximity. He knew that you didn’t think much about this gesture, but he couldn’t help but notice the softness of your chest against his. He pulled away gently, embarrassed by this thought crossing his mind.

“It’s only natural, (Y/N), it’s my duty.”

“But still, this means that you are a really kind and selfless person.” A smile played on your mouth. But the corner of your lips fell down as you noticed that the sun was already setting down. You had to go away soon. You wished to spend more time with Sabo, but if you stayed any longer, your parents would get suspicious, not to forget that prayer time was almost elapsed.

“It’s getting darker now...I have to go soon…”

Sabo looked at his wrist watch, noticing that his meeting time with Koala was also getting closer. Time passed by really fast in such an agreable company, he thought to himself.

“I have to go as well.” he says as he puts back his shirt after drying it faster with his devil fruit powers. “It was really nice meeting you, (Y/N), I wish to hear you sing once again.” And he smiled gently, and your heart hurt a bit as you didn’t want to leave his side.

You wanted him to tell you more, you wanted to know more about this world that he was trying to build for you and your people, a world where humans and mermen could coexist.

“Say Sabo...We will meet again right ? You’ll come here again, right ?” you tugged at his sleeve bringing him closer to the rock where you were seated. Your pleading eyes made his heart melt and he couldn’t help but ruffle your hair. This simple touch made your heart skip a beat. You wanted him to stay so badly. You really liked how gentle he was, how respectful and polite he was towards you. You have always been both scared and fascinated by humans, yet, now that you have met him, you wanted to meet more of them.

Sabo seemed to think for a moment, then, he took a piece of paper out of the pocket of his coat and put it in your hand.

“Unfortunately, I’ll be leaving this island tonight, however, I’ll give you a piece of my vivre card.”

You looked at the piece laying in the palm of your hands with big surprised eyes. He continued, noticing your surprise :

“This will always guide you to me. It points to my location. This way, whenever I’m by the beach or the sea, you’ll be able to find me, if you want to of course. I’ll be very pleased to hear you sing, and to talk to you of course, (Y/N).”

You instinctively closed your fingers around the piece of paper, bringing it closer to your chest. I will cherish it with all my heart, you thought to yourself. You wanted Sabo to never forget about you, and you were excited to meet him again, and have him tell you about his adventures. You looked a bit around you then took his hand and placed your golden comb in it.

“Please accept this as a memento of mine.” He looked at the beautiful comb, was it alright for him to accept such a gift ? Seeing him so reluctant and hesitant, you reassured him

“I want you to keep it, maybe you’re not aware of it, but today was really meaningful for me. I was afraid of humans because of mermen legends, but you proved me wrong.”

You punctuated your words with a smile that he mirrored. You were so adorable to him, he liked how spontaneous you were and how easy it was for you to speak your feelings. As you took your hand away from his, he closed his fingers around the comb then put it in his pocket.

“I’ll keep it then. Please know that the pleasure is shared. Good and evil exist everywhere. I am glad that I have given you a good impression about humans. Please don’t hesitate to ask me for help if you run into any kind of trouble. Alright ?”

You nodded, your heart melting at his kindness. You hesitated for a second, then, you lifted your upper body with your palms placed on the rock. Then, with one arm, you pulled Sabo from his cravate so that his face was inches away from yours. His eyes were shaken with surprise, pupils dilated. You closed yours and kissed his cheek softly, his blond locks tickling your face. You let go of him fast, plunging into the sea.

“I won’t hesitate...I hope that we will see each other again…”

He straightened his back, smiling at you. It would have been impossible not to be shaken by your move. He engraved that moment in his memory : the way your cheeks were flushed pink, the tone in which you spoke : flowing like velvet, and how your hair glowed in the dark as if it had stars entangled in it. You were so beautiful, too beautiful, and he had a desire to protect this beauty, this purity of yours. He had to pursue his goal, to continue, to make the world a place for beauty to be appreciated.

Your voice was heard once again, now low, just a murmur.

“But there was one thing that the mermen legends weren’t wrong about...Human men are really handsome.”

He could hear a shy smile in your voice, and after these few words, you disappeared into the water, as if you had just been a dream. But the comb in his pocket proved otherwise. What a playful girl, he thought. Then, he stayed still for a few minutes, taking in the peaceful air of the sea.

Maybe you will meet again. He thought. But till then, he had to work harder. He turned his back to the sea, returning to his meeting point with Koala, although his thoughts were still attached to your enchanting croon.

Tag list : @fishandfuck

[aion-rsa]

Endeavour: Why Isn’t Fred Thursday in Morse’s Later Life?

https://ift.tt/3EkpSPm

Warning: contains plot details for Series 8 Episode 1 ‘Striker’

“A man only gets one father,” Fred Thursday told Morse in Endeavour series one, when the young officer was demurring about returning home to attend his dad’s deathbed. Of Thursday’s many sayings, this one proves the least true in Endeavour’s case. Morse had one father, yes – a strained relationship with an estranged man whose dying words to his constable son were that he’d never liked the police – but in Fred Thursday, he also had another.

Has another, that should say, as Thursday is still very much part of Morse’s life. It’s a hard-to-ignore fact though, that a separation between the two is inevitable and fast-approaching. Roger Allam’s DCI was invented solely for the Inspector Morse prequel and is therefore absent from Morse’s later years. Endeavour creator Russell Lewis built Thursday and Morse’s relationship in the knowledge that eventually, he would have to tear it apart. Whether in this series or the next, something is going to happen to make Morse never again mention the name Fred Thursday. The question is: what?

The seeds of a conflict between the erstwhile mentor and his brilliant young student had already sprouted in series seven, which saw Morse and Thursday at loggerheads investigating the case of the Towpath Killer. Morse criticised and undermined Thursday’s police work, and Thursday angrily reminded the erudite youngster that not every case is a crossword puzzle that can be solved using anagrams, opera, or the periodic table. Their animosity led to an embarrassing stand-up fight over the corpse of a victim, and a falling out only becalmed after a letter of apology and a Venetian canal-side shoot-out. 

Though the series eight opener ‘Striker’ ends on a note of warmth, with Morse remembering never getting chosen for sports teams at school and Thursday remarking “I chose you,” the distance has already set in between them. The days of cosy lunchtime pints, when a word of paternal encouragement from Thursday was enough to lift Morse’s spirits, are gone. (These days, Morse’s spirits are more likely to be found in a hip flask, as the formerly teetotal new recruit has decidedly slid into the habits of the old gumshoe he’s to become.)

At one time, Morse and Thursday were a two-man team against the world. Driving the roads of Oxford, swapping theories and saving the world. Morse made solves Thursday never could have, and Thursday advocated for his unlikely bagman’s brilliance to Bright and others, having spotted the potential of Endeavour’s unusual mind right from the start. Much has happened since Thursday tenderly covered an injured Morse with an overcoat on the family sofa and let him sleep surrounded by the familial warmth of the Thursday home.  

No small amount of what’s happened is between Endeavour and Fred’s daughter Joan, or “Miss Thursday” as Morse affectionately calls her. They grew close after Endeavour’s daily trips to the Thursdays’ semi-detached to drive Fred to work, and shared a terrifying ordeal in series three finale ‘Coda’, when both were held at gunpoint during the raid on Joan’s bank. Theirs is less a will-they-won’t-they relationship than an if-they-will-they-won’t-for-long romance. Once again, a Damoclean sword hangs over the pair. Fans know that Inspector Morse remains a lifelong bachelor, so any love they share is doomed not to end in anything lasting. 

Read more

TV

Endeavour Series 8 Episode 1 Review: the Inspector Morse Transition Begins

By Gem Wheeler

TV

Endeavour: Will There Be a Series 9?

By Louisa Mellor

Series eight sees Joan, now a social worker caring for neglected children, accept a dinner dance invitation from Morse’s former flatmate and future superintendent Jim Strange. That supports a theory held by some fans that Joan is destined to become Mrs Strange, a character about whom we know nothing from the Inspector Morse TV series or original Colin Dexter novels. Seeing the ambitious woman of conviction he loves settle for a man as pedestrian as Jim Strange may well be enough to break Morse’s heart and put him off relationships for good. Judging by the cynical, heavy-drinker Endeavour becomes, in that case Miss Thursday would surely have made the right choice, though that’s a chicken-and-egg situation if ever there were one. 

One thing sure to drive an unmovable wedge between Morse and Fred Thursday would be if Morse were to mistreat Joan. Fred and Win love their daughter fiercely, and if Morse hurt her badly, it’s easy to imagine that no amount of affection or history between Morse and Fred would bridge that divide. Thus far, Morse has always been – to use Joan’s words – the perfect gentleman towards her. He covered for her when she snuck out to a club with DS Jakes, and warned Jakes to treat her well. When she left home, traumatised by the bank raid, and ended up living unhappily with a married man, it was Morse she wordlessly phoned for help. When that married man kicked her out, pregnant, it was Morse’s doorstep she showed up on. And when Morse saw the black eye her boyfriend had given her, it was him who could barely contain his rage, and then offered to marry her. 

Heartbreak is one possibility, grief is be another. The terminus Endeavour is heading towards may not be Morse losing Joan to another man, but losing Joan altogether. Her social work role has already led to crossover with police investigations. Perhaps she becomes fatally entangled with a dangerous case, which is what causes Endeavour and Fred’s rift. After the murders of Constable Carter (whom Fred took under his wing in much the same way as he did Endeavour) and DC Fancy, we’ve seen how Thursday holds onto guilt. How might he react if Morse made a mistake on a case that lost him his daughter? The shame and pain would surely be enough for Morse to want to close a door on the Thursday family in his mind, while the grief could send Fred and Win away from Oxford and the memories it holds.

If Endeavour’s creator allows Joan to live, then there’s another choice of potential victim: Fred. After all, when the series seven voiceover told us “This is a love story,” we all knew it really meant the father-son love between Endeavour and Fred, not Morse’s operatic entanglement with Italian minx Violetta Talenti. To lose Fred, and to perhaps be responsible for Fred’s death, would certainly be painful enough for Morse to wipe the man from his memory. Though seemingly indestructible (Thursday has both taken a bullet and coughed one up, not to mention his rooftop near-miss, gangland scrapes, war years, and that tiger), there are only so many times Endeavour and Fred can save one another’s lives. Perhaps what we’re working towards is the moment when Endeavour arrives on the scene too late. (Actor Roger Allam, for one, is hoping that Thursday goes out in a spectacular death scene.) After all, some coppers never do get to hang their Winchester over the fire place. 

Whatever causes the breach, when he loses Fred Thursday, Endeavour won’t just be losing a guvnor. When Fred asked Morse’s neighbour Monica to check in on him and call night or day if he needed him, he may have said he was just a colleague, but that’s not so. He’s family. To the end. 

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Endeavour series eight is airing on Sundays at 8pm on ITV. 

The post Endeavour: Why Isn’t Fred Thursday in Morse’s Later Life? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[perriewinklenerdie]

Taking my heart by storm (Ethan x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N: Hi guys! How are you guys doing today? It’s da weekend, bby. I’m back with another Friday fic. The idea for this one came to me when I was driving my cats to the vet and the storm was going on. We can all thank Mother Nature and her breakdown for that one entirely :D Also, the real MVP Naveen makes an appearance in this, because PB is hiding him and that’s some serious bs right there.

Summary: Ethan and Claire share a kiss in the rain in the greenhouse after storm cuts the lights out.

Enjoy! <3

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

Since noon, the clouds have been crowding the sky, prompting the storm that was coming. Ethan’s shift has just ended when the first sound of a thunder rolled through the walls of the hospital. It was a hectic day, a wave of flu bringing more people to the free clinic and slippery ice sending many people tumbling to the ground, sprains and broken limbs overpowering the cases doctors had to face.

Unsurprisingly, Ethan couldn’t wait to get home. Especially since he knew for a fact that tonight, he wouldn’t be alone. Claire has accepted his invitation earlier that day, smiling every time she saw him, vision of them going home together never too far away from her mind. That smile of hers was what he thought about fairly often, and for the past few weeks, he was admitting it both to himself and to Claire. And with each day that he opened up to her more, it became easier to let her in.

The last time he saw her was two hours ago, when they finished consulting for a patient of the team. Since then, they communicated through texts, much to her amusement, and he had no doubts that she would be teasing him about it, like she always did. And he always would tell her that she’s lucky he cared about her, or he wouldn’t let it slide this easily.

He grabbed his bag and closed the office behind him, taking his phone out to text her once again, asking where she was. Not a minute later, he knew where he was supposed to go, aiming his steps towards her. No nurse or doctor dared to stop him, one look at his tired form letting them know it’s best to steer clear.

The entrance to the garden was tucked away from the view, and not many people knew about its existence, not even people working there. For that reason, the hall leading up to it was empty, as was the garden itself. The bench in the middle of the room was occupied.

Claire was lying down, the tips of her hair brushing the ground. Both hands resting on her stomach, moving up and down with every breath she took. Her eyes were closed, face a picture of complete calmness, a stark contrast to the angry wind that shook the trees outside and smacked raindrops against the glass of the orangery.

Ethan placed his bag on the ground by the entrance, then leaned against the doorframe, watching her silently. It’s a very rare sight for him lately, to see her so blissfully relaxed and detached from the issues of the hospital. Of course, when they were alone, it was fairly easy for both of them to forget about their problems. At work, though, the fatigue and dread followed them like their own shadows, never too far behind.

With the next breath of his, she stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open, feeling that she was being watched. She took a moment to let her eyes readjust to the brightness of the room, a small moan escaping her lips. Ethan reached for the switch, dimming the lights a bit to make it easier for her, giving her a clear sign that she wasn’t alone anymore. Her head turned towards him, the corners of her lips going up at the sight of him.

“Hi.” She muttered, her voice raspy and deep. Her body didn’t move, not even an inch, as he walked towards her slowly, keeping his eyes on her firmly.

“I thought you left, with how long ago I last saw you.” he mused, keeping a bit of distance between them, just in case someone was to walk in on them, however unlikely it was. Claire grinned, raising her hands above her head to stretch. Her words were strained when she spoke again.

“I have plans for the evening. Maybe even for the night if things work out.”

Despite them both being still in the hospital and having it hanging over their heads, Ethan couldn’t fight the smile nor the acceleration of his pulse at what she was alluding to. “I assure you that whoever invited you has similar things on his mind.”

Slowly, she sat up, her hair falling over her shoulders and framing her face and neck. With a slow and controlled move, she beckoned him closer, crooking her finger and looking at him with a sultry smile. It was dangerous, how fast he reacted accordingly to her wishes, without stopping for even a second to think about what they were doing. When he was close enough to hear her low whisper, she found his gaze with hers, her eyes darkening slightly.

“Similar things, huh? Are you sure?” she hooked her little finger with his thumb, then released it so she could slide her hand up his arm. Each time she touched him, a wave of heat ran to the very core of him. She traced the shapes on the skin on the inside of his elbow, all the while looking at him with the intensity that he’s seen countless of times before. “Why don’t you show me what you’re thinking about right now?”

He cupped the side of her face with his other hand, stroking her cheekbone softly, his mind giving up the fight with each move their fingers made. Getting down on his knees, he slid his palm down the side of her neck, squeezing her shoulder on his way, until, finally, he let it linger on her thigh. He opened his mouth to say something, but before any words could form, a harsh roar of a thunder interrupted him. Moments later, the lights flickered and then went out, drowning them in darkness.

“How long until the backup power modules begin working?” Claire muttered, as though the atmosphere dictated how loud they could be. Ethan listened to the hum of the rain before he answered.

“The power kicked back in immediately, so all the machinery is still working. As for the lights, though, it can be a few minutes.”

“How long?” she asked again, leaning towards him blindly, knowing only the general direction in which she should be heading. Lightning struck, bringing their sight back for a short moment, raindrops casting shadows on their faces, enhancing the lines of their features.

“Give or take, ten minutes. Why?”

“No reason.” She shrugged, pulling on his hand and bringing him flush against her, their lips brushing together. This close, she could almost see the hint of light, reflecting in his eyes, though she could have been imagining things. His hands found their place on her back, keeping them close together. He could argue that it was to keep them both safe, prevent possible injuries if one of them were to move and trip over something, but he knew damn well that his one and only purpose was to feel her warmth. To smell her perfume. To feel her arms wrap around him and keep him close.

With the next lightning, he focused on her lips. How the corners remained turned up, just as they were before the power went out. How the shape of them fit his too perfectly for their meeting to have been an accident. The pull towards her he felt was too strong for him to fight, and yet, for so long, he tried to resist it. Only to, in the end, dive into the storm that she was, slowly letting her consume him whole.

When the darkness came back, he pulled her into the kiss. It’s slow and light, unlike the quick kiss she gave him before she left his apartment that morning. Unlike the ravenous kisses they attacked each other with the night before, right after the door to his home closed behind them. There’s no heat, no desire other than that to keep the other close and not let go. There’s no doubt, either, just pure certainty, warmth and care, evident in the way his arms held her tightly and in the way her grip on his shoulders was secure.

Water continuously fell from the sky, drumming against the glass ceiling of the greenhouse, almost entirely masking the quiet sounds they were making. Claire wouldn’t have been able to notice how he hummed against her lips if it wasn’t for the gentle vibrations it was causing, teasing her nerve endings.

Ethan leaned away eventually, using a glimpse of light to look at her again. His heart hammered in his chest, his cheeks must have been flushed and he was sure that he looked positively infatuated. Staring at her in the dark, he could see with his memories how she glanced at him in moments like these; flickers of happiness in her eyes and a soft smile lighting up her face, brighter than any source of light ever could.

“That’s as close to the kiss in the rain as we’ll ever get.” Claire giggled quietly, moving her hand to stroke his cheek with the back of her fingers. He welcomed the sensation, leaning into her touch. She couldn’t possibly see his teasing smirk, but he had a feeling she knew it was there.

“Who knew such an idiotic idea could be so pleasant.” He wondered out loud, waiting for a reaction of hers. And he got just that. She scoffed, punching his arm playfully before falling into his embrace again with a sigh as the storm raged outside.

----------

Naveen slowly navigated the long halls of his hospital, flashlight in hand, searching for people caught by the darkness. So far, he managed to guide three lost patients that went on a walk and couldn’t find their way back when the power went out, and that prompted him to go on.

Knowing that not many of his colleagues were even aware of the existence of the garden, he decided to go there himself. How was it possible that people worked there for years but not know about all the locations in their workplace was beyond him, but he didn’t have time to wonder about it in that moment.

He called out loudly as he walked, listening in for any signs of voices, but there was no answer. No sound other than the angry howls of the storm outside. His flashlight shone rays of brightness onto the walls and the floor, and once he reached the greenhouse, it pierced through the glass and reflected in the leaves of many plants that grew there.

Upon entering the room, he called out again, moving the flashlight around slowly. “Hello? Is anyone here- oh.”

Naveen stopped abruptly, taking in the sight in front of him. He expected a lot of things, and a lot of people, but no matter how many times he blinked, the picture didn’t disappear. It was very much real.

Ethan sat up faster than he thought he could at the sound of his mentor’s voice. Some time has passed since the lights have gone out, and when kisses transitioned into a tight embrace, he pulled her onto the ground, both of them lying down so they could watch the sky as the clouds went by, lit up by lightning strikes from time to time. It almost felt like it could have been their first date, but neither of mentioned it.

When Naveen found them, Ethan’s hand was running up and down Claire’s arm, their bodies pressed close as the low hum of the rain almost lulled them both to sleep. Upon interruption, Ethan, and shortly after Claire, sat up, both immediately awake and aware of how busted they were.

They stared at each other for a long while, unsure what were the words that were supposed to be said. Eventually, Naveen broke out of the trance, nodding his head slowly in acknowledgement. In the darkness of the garden he couldn’t be sure, but he was pretty much certain that Ethan’s cheeks were taking on a bit of a darker color. It was Claire that confirmed it for him when she eventually cut the silence.

“Go easy on him with the teasing.”

Ethan’s head turned towards her in record time, his face spelling out mock betrayal, which made her laugh even more than she already was. She patted his shoulder with her extended hand, muttering ‘there, there’, a joke that he was clearly not amused by. Naveen watched them with a growing grin.

“You two are adorable.” His words caused the pair to look at him with surprise in their eyes. He walked towards them, extending his hand in Claire’s direction to help her up. She accepted it, standing up and pulling Ethan right along with her. “The lights are going to be gone for at least another hour, so you two should go home.”

Ethan’s annoyance was crystal clear in the way he spoke. “I can literally hear you smiling, Naveen, what’s got you so amused?”

“I’m just wondering, how did you wear him down, Claire? I’ve spent years trying to get him to go fishing with me and he wouldn’t budge.”

She laughed, squeezing Ethan’s arm before she walked towards the exit with Naveen by her side, telling him her strategy as though it was a well-kept secret. Ethan stayed in the garden for a moment longer, watching their silhouettes go with an easy smile before he followed them back towards the hospital.

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

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[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

BFCD Story Concepts by Nesha

Story Concept 01: No Saviors in the Wild Pt. 3

Read Pt 1 | Pt 2

Notes: Not writing out an entire cohesive story, but just hitting y’all with lore and the occasional scene is refreshing for me, but also like... I feel like I leave out so much since I’m not painting the full picture of it. So, because this is an installment of when they “met,” figured this is the good place to tell exactly what they look like. Sure, Birgundi Baker is too old to play the roles she plays and Shani is 16, but Birgundi’s look is perfect, so she is Birgundi at a 16 year old version.

Atlas, has no FC, because the image doesn’t exist in Hollywood, as far as I could find: Brown eyes, red hair, a freckles/acne collab skin type - this kid is covered in freckles - and will have acne his entire life, broad shoulders, tall, large ears, hands, feet, and Adam’s apple. Generally scowling. Has an overbite when he smiles and it's the only thing he's really self conscious about at first because when he does smile, it seems to be the thing that people's eyes move towards.

* Shani tells him it's because they're so used to boring, perfect teeth that a smile with character gives them the wrong reaction. "It makes me smile bigger," she adds, with a little shrug. He blushes and tells her to shut up.*

@shslargue​ @jacksope-lives​  Thank you for putting up with fragments of an idea that I wish I could mold into a world for you both.

A Savior is Born: The Rise of the Rebels 01

Shani: Objective problem solver, analytical mind, sometimes mistaken for being cold or detached, overthinker who doubts herself and tends to worry that she’s potentially acted or reacted without thinking with her heart.

Her field of study is communications, with special interest in linguistics, because comm can get her a media job and this is one of the careers that can make for a comfortable life in their society (lucrative, if she can handle various languages and/or several fields of communications). She’s focused on intercultural and multilingual communications at the start of the story and has a bunch of stuff about language and speech in her brain.

School is only available for pay, and Shani has applied for a program to work for her schooling - which includes lodging, clothing and food, but is extremely expensive. Students in said programs typically only have time for school and work, having to work an equal amount of hours to process payment for courses and meals, and having to put in a certain amount of hours per dollar amount of clothing, food, and class resources. She has everything available for her education accessible, but in the event that she can’t work for it, she loses that access.

Shani has been working her way through this school system since she was 10.

Prior to that, her parents struggled to pay for her to have a bright start, and also homeschooled, when they could, with outdated publications of any books that they could find, to stimulate her mind and figure out what she might excel in, because they couldn’t afford testing and she wasn’t on the successful track that kids with money were put on. Being a smart child and excellent student, Shani soon earned the right to apply for the scholarship. 

At that point, she moved into the dormitories, ate in a cafeteria that was typically full of students BUSY studying, as study hall was more expensive than at home study, and many of them had too many work hours to get a decent amount of study time in. 

Shani rarely struggled with taking in information, performed tests extremely well and didn’t take too long to complete homework, as to not interfere an extreme amount with her work schedule. A lot of the kids who were barely hanging on resent her for it, and one particular event that occurs when she’s 16 between herself and a few students who were being removed from school due to grades or insufficient work hours (both of which, at the time, Shani had the displeasure of having to be record keeper of), she was jumped and while she only shielded herself to prevent maximum damage, the aggressors had a matching story that she was involved in a fight with them and she received her sentence (and lesson that kids like her better know their place), along with an academic probation and a fine from the school. 

It was taken into consideration that for all 6 years of being in the program, she made excellent scores in all school assignments, performed admirably in all job assignments, and held perfect attendance. She wasn’t removed from the program during her sentencing, but would have to complete her courses remotely while serving her time, or repeat her semester later (having to work to pay off both the “abandoned” one and the one that she would have to make up. So, she chose to continue remotely, through her sentence.

She’s the only kid enrolled in school for the sentencing assignment and that automatically puts a target on her, from the other kids, particularly because she also clearly doesn’t belong here. They can just *tell* that she didn’t earn the sentence she’s serving, and (as always in her life when she gets into a group setting), others resent her for being where she “doesn’t belong.” The rich kids did it in class. The less adept kids did it in the dorms. These kids did it during assignments. She was used to it. But, she was actually terrified of these kids. 

They were criminals! Especially, that one. 

He was tall and imposing. Not… dangerous looking, really. He didn’t ever smile, but that didn’t mean much in a place like this. What was there to smile about? She noticed him before anybody else, even though he was quiet and not rambunctious like some of the others were on the bus ride to the worksite. She noticed him first because of his hair. 

It was bright red, but she didn’t think it was dyed. She had seen red hair before, but not as bright and it definitely wasn’t common. She’d read that it was rare, and had only gotten more rare as time went on. She could think of maybe 3 redheads that she had seen in her life, and none of their hair had ever caught her attention that way. He was covered in freckles. Every visible part of his skin that could harbor freckles appeared to. She couldn’t remember if she knew anybody with freckles, but she liked them. She could stare at them and pretend to make little images by connecting some of them. Her brain imagined a series of patterns while she looked at his arms, slightly less vivid red hairs coated them. 

And on his face, he had severe acne. She was a little entranced by it. She found herself also mentally tracing patterns in the bumps, sometimes even incorporating freckles for accent. Up until the point where her brown eyes met his and his were not as dark, but way more mean. She smiled uncomfortably, and his expression didn’t change. She made prayer hands and awkwardly turned away. She could feel him glaring at her, though. She could feel it for the rest of the ride to the woods, and didn’t dare to glance his way when they unloaded. 

They wound up standing next to each other as the chaperone took roll call, and verified their identities and sentences. Shani only looked at him again whenever the chaperone read his sentencing as “aggravated robbery.” 

He didn’t even blink. He just said, “Allegedly.” Shani noted that although he wasn’t muscular or that solid, he was even taller than he seemed on the bus… maybe 6’1 - 6’3. He was nearly a foot taller than her, at 5’5, but not quite. Still, with his broad shoulders, his brooding expression, and the collar on his neck (the consecutive crimes collar); she felt very unnerved not just being next to him, but being on this site with him. Aggravated Robbery was SERIOUS. You couldn’t even purchase an education with that type of charge. Of course, Shani WOULD be thinking in terms of education. She didn’t even know this boy. His education wasn’t her business... 

Next, the chaperone read her name, and stated, “First time violent offense?” And she read it like it was unbelievable and all of the kids looked at Shani as the woman continued, “Judging from your record, I’m assuming that you’re here because of a misunderstanding?”

Shani felt her face grow warm with everyone staring, including Mr. Collar, but she explained, in a low voice, “All I did was try to shield myself. I’ve always read that if you never attempt a hit, you can plead self defense. There were multiple assailants, therefore, my defense was futile and the judge sided with my aggressors, that it was a fight instead of a gang attack.” She heard groans and snickers. She looked at the redhead. He shook his head in disbelief. She didn’t know why, but it made her feel very insignificant. She didn’t realize that the last thing that she should have done in that moment was tell everyone THAT. The chaperone gave her a sympathetic smile and moved on. Mr. Collar scoffed, laughed a little and turned away from her. She studied his profile. His eyes drifted over, checking to see if she was looking at him. Whenever he turned to face her again, she quickly looked away, her face hot from being on the verge of being caught staring again. 

Whenever she glanced back, he was still staring. He didn’t look as mean as on the bus. He seemed to be... studying her. She would have loved to know what he was thinking. Whatever it was, his brown eyes were softer than before, at least. She offered a smile and he didn’t return it, but at least he wasn’t glaring. He turned away very suddenly, like something had happened. She noticed that he looked like he was turning red. That was... interesting. Imagine somebody tall and dangerous blushing over one little smile. Her own face grew warm at the thought. He might be... whatever the records alleged... but he was a tall boy with features she liked, too.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine: PRT TWO

Erik talking real nasty and fucking the reader and she can’t take it.

Whew. This was some nasty shit. I’m over here with a wet pussy just writing this shit 💦💦💦

I like my Erik’s freaky so this nigga is overly freaky. Read read read ! It will make you just as wet I promise ☺️

“Slow down, lil mama. Damn, calm down, baby,” Erik laughs at the way you shimmy out of your panties. You were seated on his bed, skirt hiked further up around your waist because he instructed for you to keep it on. Your legs opened wide, pussy glistening and pulled apart like angel wings.

“Where all this confidence coming from?” He teased you, standing between your legs.

“I don’t know, just touch me,” you beg.

“Ain’t no fucking I don’t know when you with me. I don’t respond to that shit tell me straight up why you opening up and showing me that soaking wet pussy.”

Whimpering, you respond to his demand, “it’s cuz I want you to touch and lick and what ever else to me down there.”

“You gonna let me take this dick out? My shit pressing to hard in these jeans I gotta let the monster free.” He chuckles. His ego was something else. He started undressing, hoodie first then his dark wash jeans and briefs. The minute his fat dick bobbed out you slowly close your legs. That was not going to fit and if it DID fit in you how were you supposed to leave here with mobility in your lower limbs and back?

“That’s grown man dick, Princess. This the dick that I plan on making you bounce on.”

Down on his knees, he grabs your wobbling ankles, pulling you closer towards him. He pushes your thighs back so far that the heels of your bare feet rested on the mattress.

“Lil ass flexible.” He takes your pussy lips, pulling them apart. Out of no where he spits on your clit, rubbing it in with the clear viscous liquid that seeped from your tight opening. All that fluid dropped down the crack of your ass while his warm breath tickled your pussy.

“You letting me eat this pussy?”

“Yes.”

His mouth went to work. You looked down the valley of your body, watching the way your vulva puffed up from how horny you were, stiff clit moving up, down, back, and forth from the torture of his expert tongue. You briefly wondered how many women he made cum with that tongue. You were only 23 and you had this older man lick and suck on your pussy like he was proving to you that this is what he had to offer if you decided to fuck with him.

“Damn, just leaking on my fucking tongue.”

Every inch of you was on fire. His dirty talk mixed with his tongue game had you crying.

“You ready for me to open this little shit up?”

He already knew you wanted him to, he had his fingers at your entrance, three to be exact. You couldn’t even fit three of your own fingers in you so how the hell was this nigga gonna accomplish that.

“Three?!” You spoke in an alarmed tone.

“Easy, you need to relax. That’s the only way three gon’ fit.”

“How?!” You panick. He was gonna rip your shit wide open.

“By keeping these legs open and letting me do what I gotta do, lil mama. Stop asking fucking questions.” He barked out with finality. You gave in, keeping your legs wide while your breathing steadied. Erik sucks on his fingers, bringing them down to your quivering hole before pushing inside with a curl of his digits. You arch up from the bed, mouth wide and an expression on your face that had to be an ugly one because you didn’t have time to prepare yourself. He didn’t even let you breathe.

“Fffuckkkkkkk.” You speak through clenched teeth.

“Fuck ain’t even the word,” he pulls his fat fucking fingers back, “you a creamer I see. Creaming on my fingers you nasty lil bitch.”

Your hips jumped the moment he put his fingers back inside of you. You tilted your head back, breast bouncing, nipples hard, thighs quaking, this shit was ridiculous.

“Bad lil pussy,” he slaps your vulva, making it sting. All you could hear were splashing sounds like a whole Pacific ocean lived in your pussy.

“You got real fat on me down here, fat lil kitty,” he pinched your clit before flicking it rapidly with his thumb while his other fingers were stroking you. Your eyes were low, mouth parted and your pussy sounding like a damn splash park from the way his fingers stirred against your walls. He was really reaching in there. All he was gonna find was more cream and possibly a squirt or two if he kept it up.

“If you keep doing that I’m cumming on you hard,” you whisper to him.

“And ima suck all that shit up, ma.”

You clawed the bed, toes curling and moans so loud you had him smiling.

“You adorable bitch.” Your pussy lips jerked in time with his thrusting. You were really leaking on this man’s fingers. It was like he had a whole hand full of your cream. Shit was delicious.

“Keep doing that!!” You begged with pleading eyes, “keep doing that! Keep going pleaseeeeeeee!!!”

Taking in a sharp breath you fall back against the bed, bearing down from the immense pressure before a stream of liquid left your pussy and coated his arm and chest. He placed his lips on you, sucking as he continued to finger you.

“Dammit! I’m cumming again!!!” You fist his fro, body shaking while he allowed you to release in his mouth.

“OhmyyyGodddd!!!” You scream out.

“There you go, good girllllll,” he kisses your pussy.

“I’m fucking the shit outta you. Got my dick hard.” He stood up taking a condom from his wallet. You watch as he rolled on the magnum, the condom fitting him perfectly. His heavy sack jerked from the need to cum and his dick with that fat head had you drooling.

“Open the fuck up,” he demands. You open your legs, watching his beautiful body crawl on top of you. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of this man’s body. He has that grown man body and damn it wasn’t fair how fine he is. Muscles everywhere. Taking his dick, he grabs your ass with on hand, anchoring you for better access to that pussy.

“I’m tryna be deep in you,” He whispers in your ear while his fat head rubbed your wet pussy.

“Fuck, Y/N...shit...damn, this is some good pussy and I ain’t even in there yet.” He pushes his head in, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck, you sure you ready for me, lil mama? I’m tryna get up in there,” he pushed further and you were ready to beat his damn back.

“Does it hurt?” He asks while still deep in you.

“No it’s-its just...oh my God it’s so big I can’t even move.” You tried to stay still and adjust.

“It’s cool, ill go slow for you.”

He pulled out, then back in, matching the same rhythm. You could feel all those veins and how wide his dick was.

“I wish I knew this pussy was this deep before hand...damn, lil mama, didn’t even warn me your shit was like this.”

You felt him hitting your walls at every angle. He held you in place, more than prepared to fuck the shit outta you since you reacted to his dick the way he wanted.

“You grabbing the fuck outta me girl, shit!” He groaned in your ear, “ain’t no way I’m fucking you just this once this pussy got me hooked.”

You looked down at the connection, eyes glossy as you watched his cream coated dick move inside you with ease.

“I’m about to fuck the shit outta you. It is what it is, ma, you fucked me up just now.”

His strokes became more intense, the bed rocking and your walls more sensitive the faster he went. You sat up on your elbows but Erik knocked you back down his hips pistoning you like he was trying to pull your cum from you. His heavy erection was stretching you the fuck out.

“Damn, I’m so open,” you whisper between moans.

“I told you, didn’t I? I told you all this mature dick would have this lil pussy open and willing.”

He was so damn nasty and his stroke game matched his words. He didn’t even have to do anything to make you open your legs for him.

“Daddy, make me cum,” you whisper to him, watching as he sucked on your nipples and played with your clit. He had a dip in his pelvis that gave you deep pressured strokes, plunging into you something wild. It felt so unreal to you that you had to look at his dick with confusion. You were bewildered at how much of that big fucking dick beat your pussy up.

“Tight, baby girl,” he whispers in your ear, “Y/N this pussy is gripping the fuck outta me, don’t make no damn sense.”

“You’re so nasty,” you whisper to him, leaning up on your elbows to kiss his lips. He grabs the back of your neck, kissing you with much needed force. It was sloppy, wet, and really intimate if you were being honest.

“This ain’t nothing, ma, I can get even nastier.”

He pulls out, flipping you over on your belly.

“Come to the edge of the bed and stick that thick ass in the air.”

You arch, feet hanging over the edge and ass pointed straight up. Clearly, that wasn’t good enough for him because his large hands were applying pressure to your spine, bending you so deep that you felt as if you were sinking into the mattress. Condom covered dick still lubricated, he slipped inside but your body wasn’t used to the change so you jerked forward.

“Your pussy...”

Erik glared at the back of your head from how good your shit was. The shit was hitting different. You were so far gone and detached from your soul that your body lay limp against the bed, back breaking sex working your pussy up so much that you leaked on him without even realizing.

“That’s my lil baby. You know this pussy mines, right?”

You simply nod your head, clutching the sheets with your hand. Erik grabs your waist, pushing in further since you were inching away from his big dick.

“Bite the sheets, lil mama,” he laughs while fucking you hard, “I mean, you can scream too don’t matter to me.”

“Fuck, I’m fucking your sheets up, Erik. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry girl, I don’t give a fuck about these sheets.”

You were sweating, hair sticking to your forehead and dripping sweat from your breasts. His hands slid up your back with ease from the sweat as well.

“You can cum some more on Daddy’s dick. I’m breaking this shit down.”

Your pussy muscles clenched him tightly, his dick swelling within you.

“Damn...fuck, Y/N... oh my God I’m about to nut all in my pussy.”

He referred to your pussy as his pussy.

“Don’t let none of them young niggas fuck this pussy, you hear me?”

“Yessss,” you cry out, tears in your eyes.

“Whenever you craving some dick come to Daddy.” He slaps your ass cheeks, making them swell up with pain.

“Oh my God!!!!” You throw your head back, loud screams filling the room. His laughter could be heard through it all, his dick going 100 miles per hour in your pussy.

“I’m about to make a big ass mess in this pussy!”

For a split second, you wished that he was condom free and cumming deep inside of you. Next time, maybe he could, after all you were on birth control. You definitely weren’t gonna let any other nigga step your way in a long time. You didn’t know what this meant for you and Erik in the future but for now he was offering you a chance to fuck and suck his Big Daddy Dick and you were more than willing to take him up on that offer.

“AHHHH FUCKK!” He shouts, voice deep and large hands palming your ass so tight. You whince in pain from how tight he gripped your ass but that all ended once you felt his dick rippling inside of you. You gasp with arousal, disappointed a little inside that he was still wearing a condom. He was most definitely going to cum inside of you next time.

“Fuck, you’re cumming so much,” you say as he slips from you, stumbling backwards while removing the condom. Erik ties it into a knot before tossing it within his trash can. His body was glistening with sweat, dick still hard eyes intense.

“This is most definitely not the last time I fuck you,” Erik breathes out deeply, hands rubbing down his sweaty chest, “best pussy I had in a long time.”

You blush at his compliment, sitting up on his bed, knees to your chest and eyes staring down at your toes.

“You wanna fuck me on the regular, right?”

Your eyes meet his, nodding your head.

“Use your mouth, lil mama,” He says casually.

“Yes.”

“Good,” Erik takes a seat next to you, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you into his lap.

“Cuz I need that shit again. Probably in a few minutes. I wanted to rip that fucking condom off so bad and feel you all the way but we gotta be careful,” he strokes your thigh with his finger tips. You couldn’t believe you actually wanted him to take it off. The first time getting dick from this nigga and you wanted it raw.

You could feel his left hand squeeze your left breasts. It made you close your eyes, pushing your chest out for him to feel it up more. All he did was make you horny again and ready to take some more dick. How would he fuck you this time? You hoped he would make you bounce on it like he said he would. You bit your lip in excitement.

“You ready for round two?”

“Yeah, I’m ready, Daddy.”

“Look at you, I turned you into a slut for this dick.” Erik makes you straddle him, both of his hands palming your ass while he smiles up at you.

“You are so fucking fine. Pass me another condom.”

You reach over to his table, grabbing up another one. You watch as he puts it on again, his hand now between your thighs rubbing your clit and fingering you.

“Mhm, come on miss pretty pussy drip on my fingers.” His seductive whisper had you spreading your legs and moaning softly within his ear. This was going to be a long and nasty night.

You hoped your friend got the hint and decided to leave without you. Erik planned on taking real good care of you.

@sheisexcellent1 @quietstorm-73 @blktinkerbell @chocolatedippedinhoney

[nightglider124]

RobStar Week 2020: Day 2

Oof, I don’t actually like this one. Which... it’s a shame cos I was excited to write this and it’s an idea I wanted to do for ages but decided to use it for this years robstarweek. 

This is an... alternate cave scene from the episode ‘Stranded’.

Idk... I botched it lmao. I am... my writing skills have honestly gone down the pan, ngl. 

BLEH WHATEVER. Enough of the negativity.

Hope you guys at least take some joy from this one. Hopefully I will do better than I have with the first two prompts for this week.

___________________

Warmth

Robin sucked in a deep breath as he reached up and snapped off a wayward branch that seemed to have snuck through the cracks of the cave they had taken shelter in. It had been a bit of a challenge to find wood of all things on this strange planet at first but after some time, the two of them had managed to get a small fire going.

His heart was still pounding from what had happened. The last thing he expected was for the ground to shake and give out beneath their feet as they attempted to find the others. Robin was more than ready to find the missing members of his team, head home and put as much distance between them and this death trap of a planet as he could. 

Pausing before he walked back over to the small fire, he chanced a glance over his shoulder at Starfire. Ever since they had plummeted into an inky abyss, she had been mysteriously and uncharacteristically quiet. 

She was sitting on a log that was on one side of the flames, her arms wrapped around her shoulders, as if shielding herself from harm. It was a first to see Starfire practically retreating in on herself and barely speaking to him.

He could feel the anxious knot in his chest, tighten suddenly as he dwelled on their situation and the conversation they had been having just before the cliffs collapsed. 

The whole mission had been a complete train wreck. He wished, more than anything, he could go back to that space station they’d arrived at, defeated the screaming monster with her and then ushered Cyborg out before he could tease anything at all.

Robin furrowed his brows beneath his mask as he remembered the memory from earlier that day. He was so stupid for reacting like that. In reality, she wasn’t his girlfriend. She was his friend who was a girl but… romantically? He didn’t think they had breached that recently or at least, it wasn’t made clear to him if they had moved forward like that. 

It was true that there was some underlying connection; something that drew them to one another but they’d never taken the time to discuss it or broach the subject before. With him being practically allergic to any conversation pertaining emotions, he had always shut them down or avoided those types of conversations with her before they even had a chance of starting. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t want that kind of relationship with her because he did. He’d thought about it and imagined what it would be like, many times since he had first met her. Robin wondered all sorts of things in regards to if they were to take their relationship further, into unknown territory. 

But, in truth, it scared him. He didn’t know what he would have to expect and didn’t know if they would last, despite hoping they would. 

There was this weight hanging on his heart now, just holding him down and denying him any of the confidence he usually had. She had been off with him ever since they had found one another which, after some probing and careful tiptoeing, he had realized that she was still angry and a little confused about what he had said. 

It was obvious that it had been going through her mind and she had started thinking about it on a deeper level, despite his words being more of a defensive response to Cyborg’s jabs, than anything else.

God, he couldn’t wait to give Cyborg double training when they eventually got home.

He inwardly scolded himself for not giving her credit where the English language was concerned. At first, he thought she was confused over the wording but after some time, he learned that she knew full well what Cyborg meant by his word choice. 

She was upset because he seemed so flippant and dismissive of it altogether.

Robin closed his eyes for a moment and tried to organize his scattered mind. There was a plethora of thoughts racing through his brain, including finding the others, hoping they wouldn’t run into any other weird beast like creatures as well as getting off of this crumbling planet as soon as possible. 

But, sitting at the forefront of all of that, was Starfire. He was concerned about her and their friendship too. Back when they had started falling, she had been unable to tap into her flight and it had utterly terrified him when she had yelled that she couldn’t fly.

It had never happened before. 

Starfire had always been solid in terms of relying on her powers and she’d never faltered in the slightest in any battle they had had since they’d first banded together as a team. 

On the flip side, he wanted to know if they were okay. One of the main reasons he had always steered away from admitting to any romantic feelings towards her was because he didn't want their friendship to change because of any harboured emotions.

He bowed his head and opened his eyes again, allowing the hand that was resting against the cave wall to slide down the jagged surface until it fell away to his side.

Swallowing sharply, he shook his head and turned around, wandering back towards their makeshift safe spot.

His heart was beating a mile a minute as he reached her, throwing the branch into the flames and watching as she shifted away slightly so that her back faced him a little more. 

Robin frowned and slowly sat on the opposite side of the wooden log, “Starfire…” He murmured, his tone soft, “What happened back there? Why couldn’t you fly?” 

He heard her sniffle quietly before she turned to gaze at the fire, her expression telling of what she was feeling. She looked tired and frustrated; upset that she had had no real answers to her questions since the explosion back at the space station.

“Tamaranean powers are inclined by our emotions…” She admitted, her eyes lacking the electric spark they usually had. 

“So the way you feel affects your ability to fly.” 

Starfire nodded solemnly, her emerald orbs shifting with uncertainty, “And right now, I feel unfamiliar confusion.” 

“But… we’ve faced danger before without your powers failing.” Robin pointed out, a sudden heat consuming the back of his neck as he sensed it wasn’t exactly that, that was the problem,

Starfire sighed and pulled her knees up to her chest, her feet resting on the log as she turned her head away to the dark side of the rocky cavern. 

“It is not danger that confuses me, Robin. It is you.” She confessed, opening her eyes and staring directly at him, “I do not understand… us.” 

Robin felt his throat run dry and he fought not to visibly react to that, despite his heart feeling like it was about to burst out of his chest with the anxiety that came hand in hand with these types of discussions. He pulled an awkward expression, without even realising it, as the inferno creeping up the back of his ears intensified and he knew it was only a matter of time before the blush spread to his cheeks.

“Ever since Cyborg said… the ‘girlfriend’... things are different between us.” She continued, tilting her head a fraction,

Reverting back to what he thought might work, Robin forced a smile onto his face and held a hand up to stall her words, “It’s... just a misunderstanding....” He explained, “Everything’s okay.”

He tried to brush it off and act as though things were absolutely fine when he knew, deep down, they were not and this wasn’t something that Starfire was going to simply let go without talking about.

And… maybe that was a good thing. Possibly.

Starfire rebuffed this and got up from where she had been perched, “Everything is not okay.” 

She moved away from him, once again turning her back on him as she shuffled into the shadows of the cave. He frowned, hating the air of sadness that was tainting her voice every time she spoke. 

He more so hated the fact that he was the cause for said sadness. 

“We are not okay. I fear we will never be okay again and you will not tell me how you feel.” She whimpered, trying to detach from him by standing so far out of reach.

Robin stood as well, clearing his throat and tugging at the collar of his cape as he crossed some of the distance between them, “Uh… I’m not… very good at that.”

It was the truth. He supposed he should probably be honest with her about how difficult he found situations like these. Despite not wanting to talk about feelings at the risk of making himself vulnerable, he realized it was Starfire and if anyone deserved some kind of answer to the way he acted, it was her.

Starfire sniffled again and slowly half turned towards him, her expression one of discouragement, “Do Earth boys come with… some kind of manual then?” 

He was powerless to stop the soft smile that graced his lips at that, once again acknowledging how endearing and sweet she was, without even realizing it herself. 

Robin breathed a laugh, “That would make things easier.” 

She spun on her heel and strode back over to him, keeping her distance by remaining on the other side of the scorching blaze. Her eyes bored into him, silently pleading with him to offer something up, just to satisfy her doubts in some way, “How am I to know what you think about me?”

Robin sucked in an exasperated breath, having not been prepared for this at all and knowing, if he were to try and explain to her what he felt or even, what he liked about her, he’d become a babbling mess.

“Starfire…” He sighed, practically his whole upper body slumping as defeat started to consume him.

There were so many things that he liked about her. In fact, it was probably a shorter list to tell her what he didn’t like and that was extremely barren. 

He loved how carefree and bubbly she was and how even the simplest things on Earth were things she found utterly fascinating whilst the average human wouldn’t even bat an eyelid. 

He loved how caring and sweet she was with everyone around her. Whether they were friend or foe, she constantly tried to see the positive and the good in individuals who, most of the time, didn’t even deserve it. 

He loved how intelligent and strong she was, being able to handle herself in practically every situation she found herself in. Her powers were just an extension of her warrior self, fully capable in the art of combat, should the need ever arise. 

Robin blinked to himself as reason after reason sailed through his head, her question having stayed with him for so long, he suddenly realized that he hadn’t replied to her at all. He cleared his throat and ignored the way his face was now roasting with embarrassment,

He wasn’t sure he could say any of that to her and rather do what he most likely should have done and told her what he thought about her, Robin simply flapped his mouth open and closed, again and again like a fish gasping for breath.

Starfire’s demeanour slipped and whilst she had looked hopeful and excited to hear what he thought about her and their relationship status, it suddenly dwindled faster than water trickling down a drain.

Her eyes became dull and her shoulders lowered, casting a glance off to the side before she took a step away from the fire again,

Robin felt trapped; he didn’t know what he could say to possibly salvage this. He had just been handed a silver platter of a chance, to clear things up between them but there was something in the pit of his stomach that simply refused to let him open up in such a way. 

“It… It does not matter…” She whispered, her tone low, “I am... sorry for pushing you to speak about this and… it is clear to me that… Cyborg was wrong. I am not your girlfriend and I… should never have expected or assumed otherwise.” 

He could see her chest rising and falling a little faster than before and he took the smallest step forward, unsure if she was crying, her face being distorted by the dim lighting being cast around the cave.

Robin swallowed the mountain in his throat, panic and regret locking in his chest. He was already kicking himself for not saying anything, leaving her to stew in her own insecurities in relation to him and how he felt about her. 

There was a frantic aura, flaring in his head like alarm bells. He wanted to take it back, redo the whole conversation and set it straight that he thought she was beautiful, kind and amazing; just a few traits, beyond an entire list of other reasons why he was falling more in love with her every day since he met her. 

“Star-” He croaked, reaching a hand out to her.

She stepped away and offered him the tiniest smile that spoke volumes of how she was truly feeling; the conversation not having gone at all how she hoped it would and it was all down to him for being an idiot and deflecting her.

He didn’t blame her in the slightest. Starfire was a creature of emotions. Tamaraneans wore their hearts on their sleeves, being open with how they felt and what they thought which was a stark contrast to how most humans operated.

Starfire had often pointed out that humans constantly seemed to complicate matters with words and logic, rather than just riding out circumstances with their hearts.

“There is a storm coming.” Starfire blurted, briefly eyeing the darkening sky through the small gap in the side of the cave; a sure fire exit once it was safe.

Blinking, Robin inclined his head to catch a glimpse of the outside. The sky was full of dark clouds, with an amber shade drenching the entirety beyond it. He continued to stare out until he saw a flash in the distance, illuminating the clouds before it faded out. 

Soon enough, dust and sand began to swirl as the wind picked up and howled outside. He considered asking Starfire if it was a sandstorm, since she would be more familiar with the types of storms that happen in space, but ultimately decided against it since it wasn’t the most appropriate time.

“I believe we should rest and try to find our friends once it is safe outside.” She suggested, tentatively pushing some of her auburn hair behind her ear, “Who knows? Perhaps they will find us, instead.”

Robin watched in silence as she moved around their little campsite and he wished he could grapple for something to say. 

“We probably shouldn’t sleep… we don’t uh… we don’t know if there are more things like that slug…” He murmured as he crouched down, trying his best to respect her wishes to be on the whole other side of the fire from him.

Starfire nodded, “We do not necessarily need to sleep. If you would prefer to stay awake…”

He watched as she lowered herself to the ground, brushing at the dirt before she laid her head down, turning away without saying anything at all. Robin frowned and felt an empty bubble in his stomach; a hollow guilt and he wanted to apologise to her and make things better but… he really didn’t know how.

How could he possibly make it better after practically avoiding her questions and her frustrations all day?

Robin exhaled quietly and tried to ignore the painful thuds in his chest as he laid down on the hard dusty concrete. He threaded his gloved fingers together on top of his ribs and chewed on his lower lip as he delved deeper into his chasm of worries.

Suddenly, a fierce gust of wind whistled through the entire cave, setting the overall temperature down to a bitter coldness. Robin flinched and tugged the edges of his cape around the exposed parts of his arms that weren’t covered by his uniform, struggling not to jerk at the bite that the cold offered.

He cautiously glanced over at Starfire, noticing that the fire was really brawling with the winds in order to stay alive. She had barely moved, as if not even noticing how chilly the air around them had become.

Robin inclined his head, trying to suppress the shivers that were wracking his body as he peered out of the small opening of the cave, only to see blustering dust particles so thick that he could no longer see the cliffs outside.

His breath came out shakily as he shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut beneath his mask, surprised at how quickly his body temperature had dropped. His teeth started to chatter as a deep iciness started creeping along his skin.

“Robin?” Starfire murmured, and he could partially hear her shuffling and turning back in his direction,

He kept his eyes closed, trying his best to block out the cold by pulling his cape even tighter around his body. All he could hear was the crackle of the fire and the billowing wind outside.

Suddenly, he felt a weight drop down beside him and his eyes snapped open, his head swivelling to see Starfire making herself comfortable beside him. She stared down at him with concern in her expression but he was baffled by how calm and unaffected she was by the blizzard frost in the air.

“H-How are you… able to deal with the cold?” He stammered, watching as she scooted closer, gently pushing him towards the fire to warm him back up.

“My people are most resilient, especially to low temperatures. You forget… I am from space.” She told him, a wry smile gracing her lips.

“Wh-what are you doing?” 

“You are freezing, Robin. My body heat runs much higher than humans and I believe I can help.” She replied, laying down beside him and bringing her arms around his torso, rubbing her palms against his exposed areas of skin. 

The heat was practically instantaneous. Warmth spread across the planes of his skin like wildfire; everywhere she touched was ignited with fire and he momentarily wondered if she was adding her powers to it for maximum exposure.

Robin exhaled, his jaw aching from where it had been chattering uncontrollable merely 2 minutes beforehand. 

His shoulders dropped and he relaxed as the cold seeped away from him, thanks to the alien Princess who was effectively just holding him now.

“Robin? Are you okay?” She asked, beginning to pull away.

He grabbed onto her hands and pressed them against his chest again, with his back still facing her. 

“Don’t… I… it’s still really cold.” He admitted, feeling a blush slip across his cheeks.

“Okay.” 

They dipped into silence again as they laid there, with only the wind howling outside filling the space. Robin couldn’t deny that being this close to her was nice, especially since they hadn’t really been on great speaking terms since he messed up.

He could feel something building inside of him and decided that now would be the only other chance he had to try and explain himself to her and apologise for the confusion he had caused her.

“Hey… Star?” He murmured,

“Yes?” 

Robin turned over so that he was facing her, despite the blush that was likely still painted across his cheeks, “I… I wanted to say sorry.”

Starfire blinked but lowered her chin, her gaze dropping to the small patch of dirt between them, “Robin…”

“Really… I… I don’t know why I reacted like I did when Cyborg… said what he said.” Robin muttered, furrowing his brows as he recalled it in his mind, 

“I am not your girlfriend… I understand now what was meant.” She whispered, taking solace in just forgetting it,

“Star… I’m not the best at talking about feelings… I was never taught that and… I’m just not good at it.” He admitted,

“Robin… it is fine. Truly.”

“I wouldn’t mind it… you know.” He blurted, his face turning a crimson tone and he couldn’t look directly at her.

Starfire blinked a few times, trying to comprehend what he had just said to her, “What?”

“Having… a ‘friend who is a girl’ as you put it.” He elaborated, smiling slightly as he repeated her own words,

She softly smiled back, “Truly?” 

“I… think I’d need to get used to the idea of it… but… yeah.” He paused and decided to go all the way considering he was already opening himself up considerably, “And… as for what I think about you… I think… it’s uh… awesome the way you shoot starbolts?” 

Starfire brightened at that and tilted her head, “Yes? And?”

“And uh… it’s also cool that you’re brave and the strongest girl ever.” 

“And… you do not mind having a friend who is a girl?” Starfire checked, visibly a lot more pleased with his communication,

Robin sat up and gently pulled her up with him and smiled back at her, opening his mouth to reply but was cut short by a loud rumbling from behind them.

As they spun to investigate the sound, the wall shook and crumbled, collapsing to reveal the screaming monster that had apparently followed them to this wasteland of a world.

The couple gasped and jumped up as the monster growled, stalking towards them before it opened its mouth and let out a long, ear piercing shriek, preparing to attack. 

[angstyaches]

The Demon You Know

CW: repressed childhood memories, childhood trauma, drowning, detachment, child with depression (?), anxiety, nausea, pain, angst.

It gets a little abstract because my brain’s been in a funny place lately. Hopefully it makes sense, but if it’s not clear, pleeease tell me. 

Swallow the World: The Ouija Board Pt.11

The headache came on so suddenly that he knew it must have been Rin arriving at the house, Ouija board in tow. Charlie grunted and hoisted himself up from the sofa, wincing and holding one hand to his temple, one to his stomach, willing it to stay settled through the pain. His dad had made pancakes for dinner before he and Charlie’s mum had taken off again for the new house, and he had no desire to see them again, splattered across the coffee table.

Days had passed since Charlie had seen Shayne, and he honestly wasn’t sure that he wanted to anymore. Ingrid and Trevor had returned for a few days, and had seemed determined to keep him occupied with movies and drives and takeaway food. Charlie couldn’t tell if they had sensed he was upset about something, or if they were buttering him up for more bad news. He’d accepted their attention with as much gratitude and as many smiles as he could muster, which was plenty. He was used to making himself appear happy, because it made them happy. And in turn, he felt a little less guilty for being a weight on their marriage, their lives, their plans. He also knew that, soon enough, he’d be as distant from both of them as Jonathan already was from their dad.

Charlie went to open the front door, wondering why he’d heard Rin’s car’s engine stop a few minutes ago, with no sign of her coming to the door.

Rin looked up as she walked from her car to the doorway. Her hair was in two buns, her neck wrapped in a thick scarf. The package under her arm made Charlie want to recoil from the doorway, but he held his ground, trying not to let his panic show on his face as his gaze fell upon a second figure, who was a few steps behind Rin.

He somehow looked worse than the last time Charlie had seen him, and this did nothing to help the sense of dread piling itself onto Charlie’s headache.

“Hi,” Charlie said to Rin, reaching out an arm for a hug as she approached, holding the package out to the side so it wouldn’t touch him. He squeezed his eyes shut, digging his head, maybe a little too harshly, against her shoulder.

“You alright, Charlie Bear?” she whispered.

“Mmhmm, I’m fine, Rin, I just…” He trailed off, words disappearing and leaving only a sour taste on his tongue.

Rin nodded in understanding and tickled at his back.

“How are – how are you?” he asked as he pulled back, standing out of the way so she could come into the hallway.

“Oh, you know,” she sighed. She glanced down at the package under her arm, pulling it out and holding it flat across both her hands. “At least things never stay boring around here for too long, right?”

Charlie hummed in agreement and gestured for her to go through to the front room, where he’d set the coffee table up in the centre of the floor with sofa cushions on either side. She half-smiled at him before carrying the board to the table.

He glanced back towards the driveway. Shayne was hesitating by the steps, like he still hadn’t decided if he was going to come in or not. He looked down and kicked lightly at the gravel with the toe of his boot.

“Waiting for me to –?” Charlie pressed a hand to his head as a spike of pain rippled above his left eye. Well, I’m sorry, but what do you expect? “Waiting for me to invite you over the threshold?”

“I – I was in the forest, and I heard Rin’s car,” Shayne mumbled as he walked past Charlie. “An invite might have been nice –”

“Yeah, except you don’t look at your phone, and you’ve forbidden any of us from coming to your house.”

Shayne scoffed and sat himself next to Rin, eyes glazing over slightly as he watched her starting to set up the board. 

“Come on, Charlie Bear,” Rin called out. “Let’s get started.”

 ___

h-e-l-e-a-v-e-s

Charlie met Rin’s gaze across the table, and she met his. This was the first thing they’d managed to wrangle out of the board since they’d started.

“Was that you?” Rin whispered as the planchet stopped moving beneath their respective fingertips.

“N-no,” Charlie said, cold fear traveling through his bones. He - he certainly hadn’t felt himself directing the little token over those letters. He was still reeling with relief that, after the first three letters, it hadn’t gone on to simply spell the word “hell” as he’d feared for a moment.

“Shayne?” Rin asked.

Shayne gave her a dull look. “Why would I bother?”

Ignoring the remark, Rin looked at Charlie again. “’He leaves’. Does – does it mean you, Charlie? The demon doesn’t want you living here, in this house?”

Charlie slowly shook his head. That didn’t make any sense, did it? Charlie Two had seemingly been with him for a long time, before his parents had bought the Mulberry house.

“It means me.”

Nausea tugged at Charlie’s gut as one finger left the planchet. Shayne let out a huff before getting to his feet.

“Wait, I don’t even know if you can –” Rin drew a deep breath and sighed at having someone leave the board unexpectedly. “Are you sure that’s what it means?”

“Of course.” Shayne winced slightly, his hand almost reaching for his stomach before he stopped it. “Why walk yourself into the shark’s jaw, right?”

“Come on, babe,” Rin chided softly, “don’t take it like that.”

“Like what, Rin? Like I’m a big, black hole that people and demons alike cower away from?”

“Shayne, hang on.” Charlie’s voice was low from the quivering sadness in his chest. He desperately wanted to abandon the Ouija board and go to Shayne, but something in his bones was keeping him from moving. “This whole week, I – I want to just forget about it, okay? Everything you said, and – and what happened with us, I’m – I’m sorry.”

“That’s the problem, Charlie.” Shayne paused and turned in the doorway to the front hall. His hand went towards his stomach again, and he didn’t stop it this time. “Half of you is terrified of me, and the other half is just fucking sorry for me.”

The threat of bursting into tears was too overwhelming by now, and the pain in Charlie’s skull was almost blinding. He was impressed that he’d managed to stay sitting upright this long. He looked down at his lap, coloured spots dancing in his vision. “Alright, then. Go.”

Shayne muttered something that was halfway between a “yeah” and an “mmhmm”. Charlie couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his chest as he heard him leave through the front door.

“Hey,” Rin whispered, squeezing his arm with her free hand. “This is working, Charlie, aren’t you excited?”

“I love him, Rin.”

Her hand dropped away. “I know, Charlie Bear,” she sighed.

Swallowing thickly, Charlie lowered his head and let out a choked sob. It was as though the words had been living in his chest for quite some time, and now that they were out, he was left a little hollow.

“Let’s just get through this. We can chat after, okay? Charlie”

The next time Charlie attempted to blink or lift his head, his muscles resisted him. He wanted to say something, anything, but his lips were - they were so cold, and his lungs couldn’t draw enough air -

“Charlie?” Rin gave Charlie’s arm a shake. 

“The b-b-beach,” Charlie whispered, through it felt like his lips were hanging too far from his mouth, unable to form the words correctly. “Are we at the beach again?”

“The beach?” Rin repeated. “What are you talking about, Charlie Bear? You’re in the Mulberry house with me. Rin.”

Charlie finally completed a single blink, and tears fell from his eyelashes. He couldn’t stop the trembling that travelled down his arms and into his fingertips. He felt like he was about to fall through the floor, only being anchored in place by the finger he had on the planchet. It felt as though he would disappear if he let go.

“M-M-Mum,” he sobbed out suddenly, pain shooting from his head all the way to his heart. “Where’d you – where did everyone go?”

“Charlie, listen to me,” Rin sputtered. “You’re here with me. With Rin?”

Charlie One had known hearts could break. He’d known they could be stolen. Hell, he’d had those things happen to him, so he knew what they should have felt like. But he’d never imagined hearts could be chopped in half and separated like slabs of meat on a butcher’s table.

“Th-th-they don’t w-w-want me,” Charlie stammered. “They never wanted me.”

The pain was physically agonising, yet his body felt too numb to react to it.

“Where did you go?” he mumbled, searching for something inside himself that he couldn’t quite visualise. “Do you not want me anymore either?”

The last thing he heard was Rin’s horrified scream as his eyeballs rolled back in his head, his body swaying in its last seconds of remaining upright, before he collapsed against the floor.

___

Charlie ran barefoot across the sand, leaving tiny footprints behind in the sunshine. The tuneless squawking of seagulls and the rushing of the waves overwhelmed his senses. He didn’t understand it. His cousins loved the beach, and they’d all been giggling and splashing one another in the water, but not Charlie. Charlie didn’t like it. Charlie wanted his mummy. He was breathing calmly because he knew he’d find her. He just needed to find the bright blue screen that they’d set up around their towels and the portable barbeque. It was all here somewhere, a little, temporary oasis of domesticity in the chaos of screaming children and screaming birds.

Finally, there it was. All of the noise and the brightness seemed softer, easier to cope with, once a hug from his mummy was within his sights. He slowed his pace as he got closer, finally able to hear her voice as she chatted happily with her sisters.

“– didn’t want to at the time,” she was saying to his auntie, “but it was my decision to make, Tina. Charlie might be an accident, but ending a baby’s life was just not something I was prepared to do. You have to understand that? I’d never have been able to live with myself, and every day since, I’ve made that same decision over and over again...”

Charlie felt like the sand was going to swallow his feet. He started running again, thinking if he kept moving, it couldn’t take him. He’d just keep moving, never sticking, never ever thinking...

___

Charlie One gasped and blinked, the image of that white face in the dark cave replaced by the same white face in the front room of the Mulberry house. It leaned across the Ouija board, a long, dark digit resting on the planchet. The demon peered down at him as he lay motionless on the floor, deaf and numb to Rin’s desperate attempts to rouse him.

You’re here, he thought.

“Always,” Charlie Two said, and Charlie One detected a smile lingering beyond the unmoving jaw of their skull.

 ___

Charlie ran barefoot across the jagged rocks, not really thinking about where he was going but knowing he didn’t want to turn around. It was like something dark and sticky was chasing him and somehow he knew it wouldn’t follow him into the caverns.

It grew so dark so quickly that he began to slow down, no longer able to see which rocks he needed to step over. When he fell, he didn’t see how far he dropped, or how many sharp rocks he landed on; he just knew that it hurt, and he was gasping too much to cry out for help. Who would even find him in here, anyway? Who would even care, who would want him enough to come and help him?

The ground cut his feet. He knocked his head against rocks jutting out from the cave walls, because he couldn’t see them. Eventually, he turned his head and could no longer see anything but a sliver of sea, a sliver of sky. The cries of the birds and the drone of human activity didn’t reach this place. It was as if he didn’t exist in the same world he’d been in just minutes before.

“Are you okay?”

Fingers reached out in the dark and scared the boy so much that he began to run again. The creature to whom the fingers belonged should have known better, would have if they had been thinking clearer. For they knew of the small plunge pool just ahead, and the small child did not.

Charlie screamed as the ground - painful as it was to run on barefoot - dropped away, and water swallowed him up. He gulped, and he screamed, and he gulped, and it felt as though he’d be screaming and gulping endlessly for the rest of his life, without relief, without end, because who, who would come to save him?

“Stop crying. I’m here now.”

Charlie didn’t know where the air had suddenly come from, but he gasped it gratefully into his lungs, small hands clutching at the thing that anchored him to the rocks, to the world, to himself. He didn’t know where the words floated up from, but he gained control of his wet coughing long enough to ask; “Will you s-stay with me, please?”

The demon embraced the child, too weak to deny such a simple request, so simply asked. “Always.”

[pure-kirarin]

Zoro x dancer reader

lofi-coffee said :hey! i just came from your zoro hc’s hxbsjxb which was absolutely *chefs kiss* btw! do you so scenarios? if so could i request a scenario based off of the “good dancer” hc, where hes admiring his s/o dance and she pulls him out to join her? he stumbles, its a lil messy, but who tf cares bc they’re happy and that’s all that mattersplease + thank you. hope you have fun writing it!💕

Thanks for your request and for your feedback ! It makes me so so happy everytime someone reads what I write...Because I never expected that anyone would read my work ! I wrote this and I hope that you like it...I had fun writing it but I don’t know if it’s what you expected or wanted hahah. ~ I love tension uwu Ps: cool tumblr name ;w; <3 (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ **************** How could she move her body that way ? It was almost indecent. That's what was going through Zoro's mind as his sight was hanged to your body. He was sitting there, away from the dance floor, drinking glass after glass of beer. He was lazily looking at you while enjoying his drink. Damn, what a good dancer He was quite entertained by your figure, gracefully moving to the sound of the music. He was in this little bar in Dressrosa, finding his way to it to enjoy a drink before the execution of the plan. The other strawhats were each discovering this rather charming city. Dressrosa...The city of passion, he smirked a bit, looking at you he was begining to understand why it was called that way. The ladies were good dancers, not that he cared about dancing much but...He had to admit that he loved getting entertained while drinking and you were quite the entertainment. Was it the drinks or was it his mind playing him tricks ? Because he was damn sure that it was as if you were the only one on the dance floor... Some soft bachata music was playing. At first, he could only see your back moving sensually. When you turned around, he swallowed pretty hard, both your eyes met and you weren't one to look down. You continued dancing while looking him in the eyes with a little smile on your face. He rised his eyebrow, she's not intimidated ? Good. He smirked, amused by your attitude. You were certainly aware that you were the star of the show. You didn't have a partner either, isn't bachata supposed to be a social dance ? Zoro didn't dwell on these thoughts, he just wanted to enjoy his night, his gaze attached to your body. The swordsman being a bad dancer wasn't going to say nor do anything. He just wanted to look at you and to drink a lot. He didn't want anything from you, in fact, you seemed surreal and he thought for a second that maybe you were the fruit of his imagination and that of the dyonisiac beverage. Maybe if his fingers caressed your hair, you'd vanish in smoke. He turned his face towards the barista, making a sign with his hand to ask for a new drink while his glass was still half full. His eyes then switched to the dance floor and you were gone, just as the music stopped. You vanished. He let out a sigh, were you really just a hallucination ? He thought his tolerance to alcohol was impeccable. « -Hey, are you going to join me or are you just going to look at me ? Your voice was smooth and sensual. Zoro looked from right to left, ah, you were talking to him, after all, you noticed his gaze. -Hm ?  He grumbled, amused but not impressed, not yet. -God. Don't react this way. Your eyes almost poked a hole through my body and now that's all you say ? » Zoro thought that you were quite aggressive in your advance. He wasn't going to deny that he was indeed looking at you. He didn't feel shy, he just looked and you couldn't blame him for it, not when you danced in that way. He looked you right in your eyes, looking for an answer, what did you want from him ? He was surprised of finding amusement, challenge, almost like you were defying him. He wanted to see how far you were going to reach. -I'm drinking. He waves his glass. You were aware of your charm and you knew that the swordsman found you attractive, otherwise he wouldn't look at you this way. But how could he devour you with his eyes and act so ininterested ? Your ego couldn't handle his attitude. You came to him by yourself and he was letting his « chance » go. Didn't he know how many other guys dream of dancing with you ? But you were drawn to this stranger, to this man that you have never seen around. His look when you were dancing caught your attention, it wasn't just a look of lust, it was a mixture of appreciation, fascination and desire. You wanted to know why he looked at you that way. You snatched the glass off his hand and drank its content in one go. He looked at you surprised. Wild. He thought to himself. He was starting to get interested in you. Could you be entertaining in more than one way ? You put the glass on the zinc quite violently and then you hold his sleeve really tight, pulling him a bit. «- Now you don't have an excuse. You dance ? He appreciated your boldness, however, what he didn't want to admit is that he is a really bad dancer. He was content just looking at you...But now you were defying him with that look of yours. -It wasn't an excuse. -Then what ? You're scared that I'll stab you or something... ? -Me ? Scared ?..Don’t make me laugh.” You giggled. Zoro knew about this « rumor », about Dressrosa's women being extremely passionate, stabbing their lovers if they ever cheat...What were you implying ? However, his swordsman pride didn't let him lose to you. He groaned and got up. You had a victorious smile as you held his hand, bringing him to the dance floor. The music started slowly and you knew that he didn't know how to dance Bachata. He was awkward and stiff and you found that to be cute. You wanted to dance with him because you knew that anyone could dance bachata, especially when you were leading. The music started and you put your arms around him. « -Eh...What are you doing here ? What am I supposed to do exactly.. ? You chuckled -It's bachata...here... you took his hand and placed it on your waist and the other one on your back. Don't worry, just follow me...anyone can dance. Place your leg between mine... -what ? -Trust me...Come on...Do it.. Zoro blushed a bit, he wasn't used to all of this dancing thing...it was silly, he just wanted to admire you while drinking but he was too proud to admit that he is « scared » of dancing, especially when you defied him with your fawn eyes. He stumbled, stepping on your feet making you let out an « ouch ! » of pain. His movements were so stiff, and honestly, he was just bad that it was almost cute. You expected a sensual dance, like bachata usually is but his hands on your skin were so tense. -Follow the music...Follow my body. » Some curious looks were on you, you looked amazing together even though the dancing was bad and messy on his part. Your grace almost made up for his false move, honestly all he had to do was to hold you close to him sensually but even something that simple seemed complicated to the swordsman. It was very endearing...Charming. You danced for a little while, following the rhythm of the music. -Oh god...you are worse than I expected...You said, provoking. Zoro was getting impatient and pulled you closer to him very aggressively. You were startled and stopped dancing. The swordsman had this aura that was pulling you towards him like a magnet. His look, the same one that he has earlier while looking at you...It was so intense, you wanted his eyes on you...You were dying out of curiosity for him. « -What's the matter now ?...I thought that you were a good dancer..  A smirk on the lips, a hot touch on your waist and you were already far, far away... -I...I am. You just startled me ! » You tried to hide your embarrassment but he read through your game. He was just as curious for you as you were curious for him. He wanted to see more of your dancing...And dance with you in many other ways. You passed the test, you looked resilient enough to put with his detached attitude. You also weren't scared of looking silly as seen from your little dance with him. The music stopped another time and he gave you a big smile now, he had to say that he didn't expect that he'd have such fun dancing with you. -Thanks for this dance, you said, ready to part ways. As your were turning back, he held your wrist pretty tight, startling you once again. You locked eyes with him, you thought that he didn't want anything more. He let go of your wrist then looked left, then right, then back at you. -Now that you showed me how to dance I'd like to show you something I'm good at... He scratched the back of his neck while saying this, always looking somewhat detached but also sure of himself. You were surprised but appreciated his honesty, after all, if it meant having those eyes look at you one more time...Why not ? -Haha...I'll be the judge of that. » You put your index finger on his chest then turned back. That night was the night when you met Zoro around a dance in the city of passion. It was also the starting of a passionate love story between both of you. Your love came in waves, just like a bachata dance, sometimes you pulled and sometimes he did, it was sensual, a bit awkward and messy at times but it was for sure passionate and enjoyable. ************ Please feel free to give me feedback and don’t hesitate to drop in my ask box to get to know each other =) I’m new to this fandom and I appreciate everyone already. ^-^ <3 

[heartbeatan]

Damned Royalty (Chapter 15)

Return to Chapter 14.

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Return to Desperado Series.

Return to Jimin Fanfictions.

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Chapter 15

And there you found yourself again – back in Jimin’s penthouse. A glass of wine in your hand as you stared out the massive floor to ceiling windows, drinking in the beautiful view of the city lit up at night. Or at least that’s how the rest of the night started.

Ten minutes ago, was a different story. Ten minutes ago, you held your wine like a cross. You were nervous. But a nervous excitement. This time, things felt different. There were no more games. No more guesses. He knew where you stood, and you knew where he stood. And even if that meant the future was more daunting than before, you felt now that you could handle whatever life threw at you.

Ten minutes ago, you heard Jimin’s steps cross the floor towards you. He strode up beside you, leaning his shoulder against the glass, a slight smile on his face as he watched you take in the skyline. You felt yourself warm with his proximity, and you flushed at the way he looked at you.

“I can’t get over this,” you waved your hand over the windows before you. “I love this view.”

“I really like the view too,” he said – but he was clearly not talking about the horizon. You pressed your lips together to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot. His line was so corny, yet it still made you blush.

“Geez, Mr. Park. You’re not some sort of romantic, are you?” you teased him to cover up your shyness.

“If that’s what it’s called… perhaps I am.”

Ten minutes ago, he stepped forward, placing his hand to your waist, he turned you gently until your back was against the glass and his hips were pressed softly against yours. You tilted your chin, expecting him to kiss you, but instead he just scanned your eyes – like he was looking for something. Your heart began to race, and you felt the tingle of anticipation quiver between your thighs.

Ten minutes ago, he asked you “Are we really doing this?” and you felt his breath fan across your face. He squeezed a little tighter around your waist and from the goosebumps it caused, it was clear that your body remembered the pleasure those hands had brought you when they touched you.

Ten minutes ago, you breathed “Yes.”

“Good,” he had said as he took the wine glass from your hand and in one swift movement, tossed it across the room. Ten minutes ago, you heard the shattering of glass as it hit the floor, but you didn’t care – because your back was cool against the window; Jimin’s tongue was hot in your mouth; your arms were wrapped around his neck; your legs were wrapped around his waist; and, his hands were tight under your ass.

Ten minutes ago, he wanted to move to the bedroom, and you told him you couldn’t wait.

Now, your hands were pressed firm against the glass. Your breasts were spilling out over your disheveled bra, bouncing with every hit of Jimin’s hips against your ass – the wet, clapping sounds echoing off the walls of the vast room. Your waist confined by your dress which was pulled down at the top and pulled up from the bottom – the result of the rush to get you naked enough for Jimin to suck on your tits and fuck you from behind.

“Oh… fuck… Jimin…” you wheezed as another micrograsm wreaked havoc over your body. Your muscles stiffened and your walls clenched tight over his cock. He hissed when they did.

“Shit, princess,” he buried himself deep inside you, holding your hips against his as he reveled in the feeling of you spasming around him. “I fucking love it.”

“I love how you fuck me. I love how your dick feels inside me,” you noticed now how easily the dirty words slipped from your lips. A far cry from your refined life – Jimin had turned you into someone too uninhibited to worry about elegant language. “Turn me around.”

With a snap of his wrist, you were face to face with him – your tongue down his throat once again as you tore at the buttons of his shirt to get him naked. He stepped out of his pants and kicked them to the side, then pulled his shirt off his shoulders – discarding it as well to some unknown corner of the room.

“Get this off,” he growled as he pulled at your dress. While he worked away at it, you reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, finally releasing your tits from their lace prison. Jimin dropped to the floor as he pulled the rest of your dress off your hips. When it was nothing more than a puddle on the floor, he kissed his way manically up your body, stopping to cup your breasts and attach himself to one of your nipples.

“Please, baby,” you keened as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I still need you.”

He detached himself from your breast and brought his face to yours. His sweaty forehead pressed against your forehead; his nose tickling your nose; his lips grazing yours as he spoke…

“You still need me, yeah?” he patronized as he lifted both your arms above your head, crossing your wrists and anchoring them between his hand and the glass. Your chest heaved, tickling his chest with each heavy breath you took.

“Yes,” you whined.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m gonna give you everything you want.” With his free hand, he ushered your leg to hitch around his hip. He then reached down between your panting, sweaty bodies and grabbed a hold of his cock, giving it a little squeeze before he brought the tip to your entrance.

You felt him pass your folds then slip smoothly down your drenched chamber. He filled you up slow – so fucking slow. You learned quickly that he liked it that way – liked the way your face contorted when he filled you up and stretched you out. So, you gave him what he wanted. Your mouth dropping open, your eyes squeezing shut, the strangulated whimper that escaped your chest.

“That’s it, baby,” he graveled. “You take my cock so well.”

His flexible hips rolled, slipping his dick in and out of you with grace and ease. “Oh! Oh!” you mewled whenever he’d surprise you with a violent snap or two that promptly stole your breath. “Oooo,” you cried each time his pelvis pressed firm against yours and sent a shockwave of intensified pleasure through you.

Jimin released his grip on your wrists and dropped his hand to really hold your hips in place. He then deepened his pace, fucking into you harder that he nearly pulled your feet off the floor with each thrust. Your dampened skin squeaked as it rubbed over the glass at your back, you wrapped both hands around his neck to secure yourself to him for the home stretch.

You could only imagine what the image would look like to someone who could see you – if this wasn’t the window of a penthouse atop a skyscraper. If someone could walk by – they’d see your ass, your back being smashed against the fogged glass, your muscles contracting with every onslaught, Jimin’s hands grabbing at every inch of flesh over your backside. You’d bet they’d stop to watch you – because there was no way sex could get any better than what was happening right now.

“Nugghh!” you whimpered as he found that sweet spot inside you. “Right there!”

“Right here, princess?” he thrusted into you again, finding your pleasure spot right away.

“Yeah…” you whined, and he went to town. “Oh, God!” your lids squeezed shut as the coil inside you began to tighten.

“Eyes on me,” he demanded – he wanted to watch you fall apart. You did as he wanted, taking his face in your hands, you anchored yourself to the sight of him. The way his jaw clenched and slackened, the way his dampened hair stuck to his forehead, the way his cheeks flushed a rosy pink, and the way his eyes devoured you.

“You gonna come, princess?” he mocked you when he saw you begin to pull apart. You couldn’t reply to him – no, not anymore. It was too good, too hot, too wet and the tickle between your thighs was only intensifying. But he knew anyway – he knew he had you on the ledge and it would take nothing for him to push you over. But before he did, he had one last thing to say. His expression darkened as he stared into your soul.

“You’re mine now.” He punctuated with a thrust that had you feeling him in your throat. He swiveled his hips against yours as he held you in place. “Say it,” he demanded. “Say that you’re mine.”

“I am,” it took everything you had to say it back. “I’m yours.”

The way he looked at you then will forever be seared in your memory. It was… possessive… sexy… desperate…

He adjusted your leg and angled himself where he knew he could hit you just right. He then rocked himself into you. He didn’t need to pound you senseless – your body reacted immediately and in four… five… six thrusts… you came.

“Ooooooh!” you screamed out into the apartment. Your hands clapped and clawed over Jimin’s back. “Oh, fuck!”

“Oh my God!” Jimin panted as he continued to thrust into you. “It’s so fucking good!”

You mewled again as another wave shocked your body. Your hips tensed and your back arched off the glass, thrusting your pelvis forward as if it still wanted more. Your walls spasmed around Jimin’s cock and he buried his head into your chest as he took it.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” he panted until he spilled his seed deep inside you.

Moments later - both of you spent – he finally pulled his face from you and pressed his forehead into yours as he caught his breath. You pulled him close and kissed him firm – not wanting the moment or the euphoria to end.

“I can’t believe we get to do that all the time now,” he said.

“Yeah, this dating thing isn’t so bad now, is it?” you laughed.

“Spend the night. You have to stay now.”

“I have to work in the morning.”

“Fuck it. Call in sick. Stay with me.”

“I can’t call in sick. I work for my father and I still live under his roof. He’ll notice if I’m not in bed with the flu,” you drew your finger down the centre of his chest. “Plus, I have this insufferable client. I don’t know if he’d be okay with me taking the day off.”

He smiled roguishly back at your taunt.

“Stay with me tonight – and you can bill me for tomorrow.”

 

Against your responsible judgement, you did spend the night. You decided that future you would worry about tomorrows problems – that tonight you needed to be here, wrapped up in his arms.

You woke the next morning to the sun shining brightly into his room. You hadn’t ever seen his place in the daylight before. It was warmer, more welcoming than before – or perhaps it just seemed that way since now you knew you were welcome here. You looked beside you, and there was Jimin. The blanket pulled just to cover his waist, he was still fast asleep and looked peaceful and beautiful against the contrast of his burgundy bed sheets. You rolled over and reached into your purse which was perched on the bedside table and dug out your cellphone to check the time.

It was just passed seven o’clock. It wasn’t much, but you still had time to get yourself decent and to the office by nine. You slid the screen lock and noticed a missed call from your assistant. You clicked her name and the phone dialed her number.

“Good morning!” Trudy answered bubbly on the first ring.

“Good morning,” you tried to keep your voice low as to not wake Jimin. But it didn’t work. You felt and heard him stir beside you. “What’s up?”

“I’m just calling about a schedule change this morning – I wanted to warn you before you came all the way down here.”

Jimin sat up in bed, his hair still disheveled and his eyes barely opened – but he leaned over and kissed your bare shoulder softly.

“What’s the change in the schedule?” you shivered as Jimin brushed your hair off your neck and placed a kiss between your shoulder blades.

“Mr. Park called this morning. He wants to meet you at the strip club today at ten o’clock.”

You flung your head around to look at Jimin as he made his way down your spine.

“Oh, did he say that?” you punctuated your words, so he knew you were talking about him. His smile widened, but he kept locked on his task of peppering your bare flesh with his kisses.

“Do I have any meetings this afternoon?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Alright, well, I’ll go straight to the club then. I’ll probably be there all day, so I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.”

You clicked off your phone just as Jimin wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest.

“That was sneaky,” you said to him.

“Let’s call it a compromise.”

 

Just like last night, you found yourself naked and pressed up against glass while Jimin fucked you into it. Only this time, it was the glass of the shower wall instead of the glass of his windows. This time, warm water dripped down both your skin and this time he didn’t wait to play with your g-spot.

You panted heavy with each of his thrusts into you. You clung to his back, clung to the back of his neck, pulling him into you with each of his rocking motions. You were about to come once again. God – not so long ago you couldn’t have bought yourself an orgasm from Jinhyun – and here you were ready to spill again within a matter of minutes.

 

“I don’t have anything to wear,” you complained when you were fresh off and orgasm and fresh out of the shower. Jimin was busy cuffing his shirt. “I need to run back to my place first.”

“Just wear what you wore last night.”

“That’s an evening dress. This is work.”

“You’re just working for me today,” he sauntered over to you and dipped his head to be face to face with you. “I promise you I won’t complain,” he landed a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I don’t have any clean underwear.”

“Then don���t wear any,” he winked.

“I’m serious,” you laughed.

“Well… I might be able to solve one problem.”

“What’s that?”

He disappeared for a moment and then returned with a box. You recognized the box – it was the Bordelle lingerie he had sent you during his “please call me” gift giveaway.

“You kept them?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I was hoping you’d come around and then I could give them to you. I haven’t had someone to buy nice things for.”

You bit your lip to hide your blush – and pulled the lid off the box. You didn’t get the chance to really admire the piece last time – since he sent it to you at your office and you had nearly thrown yourself out a window trying to hide it from prying eyes. But now – you didn’t need to hide it – you could pull it out and admire the delicate powder blue lace and the creamy silk ribbon.

“You like it?” Jimin asked tentatively.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’d look beautiful on you too.

You slipped off the robe you had been wearing, exposing your fresh, clean skin and naked body to Jimin. You then went to work, pulling the intricate details of the lingerie over your curves. Jimin watched you closely as you did – a look of desire and power in his expression. He helped you even – pulling the silk ties and closing the claps over your thighs, being sure to brush his fingers delicately over your flesh. When you were done, you stood before him, letting him drink in your figure now decorated in fine fabric.

“Let’s just stay home,” he licked his teeth.

“I don’t know,” you ran your fingers across the hem of your bra. “I think this is going to be a lot more fun."

You slipped yourself back into your confining dress from the night before, covering yours and Jimin’s dirty little secret from the world. He disappeared again and returned with one of his black suit jackets offering it to you to wear. He also returned with the Louboutin’s he had sent you just so many days ago. You touched up your makeup with the essentials you kept in your purse and finally were ready to go.

Well… there was still one thing you figured would really top off this “walk of shame” look you were rocking.

“Jimin,” you called to him.

“Mm?”

“Where’s the Birkin?”

 

You rolled into the club later than you were supposed to. Jimin had ordered his driver to stop somewhere for breakfast along the way. You were going to insist otherwise but, despite the extensive meal you had the night before, you were famished from your all night all morning sexcapades.

The club was torn to shreds by the effects of remodeling and reconstruction. There were framed and unframed walls going up everywhere. The place was dusty with plaster and sawdust. But overall, you were pleased with the progress that was being made.

“It looks fantastic,” you awed as you imagined how the restaurant was coming together. “And these are your contractors?”

“Well, what’s the point in owning a construction business if you can’t use them for yourself.”

“Fair. I always thought construction businesses was how your type buried the bodies,” you quipped. But with one look from Jimin, you think you sorted out that it probably wasn’t a joke at all. “Where is everyone today?”

Jimin’s aura darkened, as if the question you had asked him was loaded. “There was some other business to be taken care of.”

“Oh,” you replied meekly. Taking the hint that this wasn’t something you wanted to ask about. “So, what are we doing here, then? What did you want to meet here for?”

Jimin scoffed in amusement. “Don’t be daft, Y/N,” he said as he took a hold of your hand. “That was an excuse to get you to not go into the office.”

You scrunched your nose. “For the record… you will be getting my bill,” you pinched his arm and he laughed at you. “I see they still haven’t taken down the pole,” you pointed to the stage still standing in the middle of the room.

“I think they were supposed to tear it down today before they got called out.”

“Well… lucky for us – they didn’t,” you winked at him.

“What do you mean?”

You pulled him across the room to sit on a crate in front of the stage. You leaned in to kiss him, and he tilted his head to catch your lips – but at the last moment, you pulled back to leave him chomping at air. A little tease you had picked up from him. His eyes flared in rogue delight. You pulled the jacket off your shoulders, placing it on his lap – then, skipping onto the stage, you left him there.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he saw you eye the golden pole before you.

“Taking it for a test run. What do you… whoa!” you let out a yelp as your hand clamped over the pole and it began to spin, taking your balance unexpectedly with it.

“Careful,” Jimin laughed. “It’s not as easy as you think.”

“You mean the pole spins?!” you awed. “I thought the ladies spun around the pole!”

He laughed again – amused by your bewilderment.

“I feel like I was just told Santa Claus doesn’t exist,” you pouted.

“Come down here.”

“I want to try.”

“Alright – show me what you’ve got,” he sunk backwards and smirked.

You gripped the cool metal in your hand once again, and you felt it begin to turn beneath your fingers. You took a step forward, locking your ankles in place, and let the momentum take you.

It wasn’t elegant. It was far from elegant whatever it was you did. You didn’t swivel gracefully around it the way you remembered Jimin’s dancers all did. You did for maybe a moment, but your feet caught again and with another comical yelp you grabbed for the pole with both hands and collapsed into it.

Jimin chuckled softly at the display.

“What’s so funny?” you prodded him. “You don’t think I could be a dancer in my next life?”

“Maybe in the next life, princess. But not this one.”

“Well… I have another thing I’d like to try?” you lowered your voice. This activity you knew you could do well.

“And what’s that?” his tone as lowered, catching on to the shift in mood.

You turned around for him – slowly – letting him see you. You gave him your best seduction stare and in an instant, he seemed to catch what was going on.

“Baby,” he whispered.

“What?” you played coy as you reached behind your back and grabbed the zipper of your dress.

“Someone might see you,” he said to stop you, but he didn’t sound convinced that he was ready for you to stop. “I don’t want anyone seeing my girl.”

“I guess I’ll just have to be careful then,” you said as you pulled the zipper and slipped your straps off your shoulders. Jimin’s gaze became intense. Intense like the night he saw you onstage. Predatory. Primal. Only this time you didn’t fear it – you reveled in it. You pulled the dress far enough so that he could catch a glimpse of the sexy lingerie he had gifted you this morning. He licked his lips and with a cocked of his eyebrow, he told you to keep going.

You did, shimmying the fabric over your waist, your hips, your knees, you let your dress slip to the floor – then you stood before him in nothing but your undergarments and heels. You sat down on the edge of the stage – right in front of him – spreading your legs wide so he could get a good look at what was waiting for him. He tried not to show it, but his breathing had shallowed and a tent in his pants was beginning to form.

“Right here, baby,” you whispered to him. “I want you right here.”

He stood up from his seat, walking over to you, he placed his hands on the stage at either side of your hips. He leaned in close, so you could feel his breath against your skin.

“Since when did you become so naughty?” he graveled.

“I’ve always been a little naughty, Mr. Park,” you tilted your head, letting him see the full length of your neck. He placed his hand over it, tilting your jaw so he could glare down at you from above.

Bam!

You heard the side door to the building slam open. Someone was here.

“Shit!” you and Jimin both exclaimed as you grab for your discarded clothes. He picked you up by the waist, helping you off stage – then took your hand and ran through the main room to a hall located near the back. You both laughed the whole way as you tried to escape without being seen by whoever it was that came to visit.

“In here,” he ushered you into a room and closed the door. “I told you. You didn’t wanna listen,” he laughed as he handed you your dress.

“You said no one was here today!” you quipped back as you struggled to pull yourself back together. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Jimin,” you jumped as you suddenly heard a mans voice come from the other side of the door. Whoever it was, they found you. Your face dropped, as did Jimin’s. Your heart began to pound, and your head began to race with possibilities. Were you in danger?

“It’s okay,” Jimin mouthed to you, noticing the panic on your face. “Just a minute,” he called to the man on the other side of the door. He helped you zip up your dress, replaced your jacket, then with one more soothing squeeze to your arm, he turned and opened the door.

Your insides dropped when you saw who was on the other side.

It was Stanford Park… and your father.

[unnecessaryadversaries]

LOVE & DEATH [Alucard | Adrian Tepes x Death]

Summary: After Dracula’s passing, Death (also known as Mistress) returns to his castle to mourn. When discovered by Alucard the two of them find solace amongst one another. As their friendship deepens into something more, Mistress Death and Alucard learn to overcome ghosts of their past and challenges of the future.

(A/N: This idea has been brewing in my mind for months after I finished season 2 of Castlevania. The character Death hasn’t been adapted from the games yet, so I took it upon myself to do it in my own way. Btw, this is only the first chapter so if you like what you read, the rest is posted on Ao3 under the same title.)

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I killed him… I killed him. My father, my flesh and blood.

I saw him. I heard him groan in agony as his body disintegrated before me. His blood still stained my gloves, and the smell of decay never left me. The ash from his burnt body still seemed to cling to my hair, and sometimes I'd catch myself flexing the hand that held the stake which pierced him as if it were still in my grasp.

I miss my father. He’s dead. I miss him.

So why then do these accursed memories plague me so? Why then do I see him there, clutching my mother’s portrait in his hand? This is no memory; this is no ghost…is this really my father? He’s dead. Has he returned? He’s dead. I killed him, he’s dead. 

What is this?

“Who are you?” Alucard demanded.

Earlier in the night, Alucard had left the castle to wander the grounds in search of an animal to hunt. When he returned, an unsettling chill set into his bones as soon as he stepped foot in the foyer. It made him shiver and gave him goosebumps; it was as if this chill constantly crept down his back, making his hair stand on end. There always seemed to be some sort of quiet, ambient noise that echoed throughout the castle, however now it was unnaturally quiet as if time had stopped. Even his footsteps seemed too loud as he searched the halls for an intruder. The echo from his boots unnerved him, so he decided to levitate instead. As he approached the open door to his father’s study he gasped.

A tall, dark figure loomed by the lit fireplace; it wore a dark, hooded cloak and its back was facing Alucard. Its head was dipped to stare at the portrait of Lisa Tepes, which is held in its hand. It was as still as a statue. The outline of this figure was too sharp, it's body too solid to only be a memory or a spirit. Alucard fell silently to his feet and his mouth fell open with the intent to speak. 

Is this my father? Tears brimmed his eyes and threatened to spill. Has he returned? 

He hardened his expression and placed his hand on the handle of his longsword, ready to unsheathe it if necessary.

“Answer me, who are you?”

The figure lifted a hand to softly trace the outline of Lisa’s face with a long, pointed fingernail. It raised its head at the sound of Alucard drawing his sword and turned slightly to face him. He narrowed his eyes and posed to strike.

“Speak,” he ordered for the final time.

The figure sighed as if out of breath and lowered the portrait, then slowly turned to face him. His eyes widened slightly as he realized that this figure is… a woman? From what Alucard could tell she stood a few inches above him and she wore what appeared to be a floor-length, hooded black robe with long medieval sleeves. Underneath was a long, form-fitting, velvet dark blue dress that almost appeared black. The neckline of her dress was high and straight, hitting right below her collarbone. A three chained, silver belt hung loosely on her wide hips and tiny human skulls hung like charms from the lowest chain. An intricate, round silver amulet hung proudly from her neck; a red, cracked gemstone sat in the center. Her hood shrouded her eyes and nose in shadow and her full lips were downturned at the corners. Alucard gripped his sword tighter.

  Who is this woman?

She made no further movements and only seemed to stare him down. Her stillness caused his stomach to turn. An odd and uncomfortable fluttering sensation permeated his gut; a sensation he hadn't felt since he had encountered his father with the intent to kill him. His hands started to sweat as the memory of that fateful night flashed through his mind once more, and his body began to involuntarily shake. The woman tilted her head slightly to the side as a corner of her mouth lifted into a small pitying smirk, "hmph.”

 She brushed him off and walked towards the desk where the portrait hung above. Carefully, as if fearing to damage it, she lifted the painting, placed it back on the wall, and continued to stare at Lisa. He bared his teeth as irritation stirred within him. He felt humiliated, ignored, and he cursed himself for succumbing to the overwhelming unease this woman evoked. From her eerie silence to the unnaturally smooth way she walked —as if she were gliding across the floor— it set him on edge. She was unearthly and seemed far too detached from even the most otherworldly creatures he’s dealt with before. It alarmed him how nonchalantly she ignored him, like how a man would ignore a line of ants beneath his boot: too indifferent to pay them any attention but confident in the fact that he’d crush them in an instant. The thought made Alucard shudder.

He watched as this woman lifted her hand to caress the cheek of Lisa’s portrait longingly. His eyes widened and his mouth fell agape. What the hell?

The way she touched his mother’s portrait seemed far too intimate for his liking. His confusion quickened to rage as he imagined this horrid woman touching his mother like that when she was alive, and he grimaced at the thought. Despite his discomfort, his anger was enough to steel his resolve. He gripped his sword tight, raised it, and quickly lunged towards her. In the blink of an eye, he had pierced her heart from behind deftly. He paid no heed to whether she was too slow to react or simply did not care to put up a fight. She grunted and slowly turned her head. Alucard stared in horror as he watched her head begin to rotate at a perfect 180-degree angle to face him. Before she had a chance to completely turn her head towards him, he plunged his sword deeper, to the hilt, inside of her body. This caused her head to swivel back quickly, her head bowed as she hunched over and braced her hands on the edge of the desk.

He spoke gravely, “You come into my home unannounced and have the gall to touch my mother’s portrait like that.”

He leaned towards her by a few inches causing the added weight to push her slightly forward against the desk. She exhaled shakily. “Your presence confounds me, woman, and your disregard angers me, so I ask again, what is your business here!”

Silence filled the room once more apart from the crackling of the fire. Alucard’s chest rose and fell with the heaviness of his breathing, his eyes were narrowed, and his patience was beginning to fade. He felt his sword waver slightly as the woman’s body began to tremble and he almost couldn’t believe he began to hear light sobs and hiccuping. 

Is she crying?

“To mourn,” she replied. Her voice was soft and barely above a whisper.

His brows knitted in confusion, “what?”

She quickly turned around causing Alucard to lose his grip on the sword and stumble back.

“I said—!” Her voice boomed.

Suddenly a mysterious force snuffed the fire out and the room was bathed in a thick, dark shadow that seemed to wrap itself around every corner. All at once the high-pitched whistle of a strong, howling wind resounded throughout the room, it’s screeching deafening. Alucard could not tell from which direction this wind blew, nor what caused it, but it’s iciness bit at his skin, chilling him to the bone; and its force blew his long hair around wildly. Without warning he was overcome with an overwhelming feeling of dread and distress; it was as if a heaviness had settled upon his shoulders. He staggered back and fell helplessly onto his rear. He could feel his heartbeat wildly in his chest; the thrums of this beating pounded on his chest and rattled his rib cage.

Bumbumbumbumbum!

He struggled to breathe and found it hard to swallow because of how dry his mouth had become. Panicking, he clutched his chest and choked. An ambient droning sound— akin to the buzzing of a multitude of flies— grew louder and louder in his ears, and static seemed to cloud his sight; invading from his peripheral vision and closing in towards the front, his line of sight becoming narrow. The figure of this woman loomed above him imposingly and he looked upon her in fear. He felt his nose begin to stuff as warm tears ran uncontrollably down his cheeks. 

What’s happening! Am I going to die?

However, these sensations and the darkness were gone as quickly as they came, too quickly in fact for Alucard to process. It was as if nothing had happened. The fireplace was lit once again, bathing the room in an orangish glow, and the snapping of firewood filled the otherwise silent room once more. His chest expanded widely as he gulped down lung fulls of air. He dropped his head in his hands and carded them through his hair to tug on the roots. 

Was that real? Did I almost die?

Alucard quickly realized that this woman was more dangerous than he’d originally believed, and he felt anxious at the thought of her harming the villagers who lived far beyond his castle. He released his hair and lifted his head to steal a glance at her through his parted fingers. He was afraid to stand, not wanting to seem like a threat. When he noticed that her head was bowed, he lowered his hands and cautiously raised his head to view her fully. She was trembling slightly, and she clutched her amulet in a tight fist.

“I—I said…” she began with a sad voice.

Hastily, Alucard scooted back as the woman walked forward to unsheathe herself from his levitating sword; it dropped to the ground with a clank! The woman followed suit, falling to her knees with enough force to shake the ground.

“…to mourn.”

Her sobs began again as she curled in on herself; Alucard’s eyebrows raised in disbelief.

To mourn? He looked at Lisa's portrait. She was mourning my mother?

It was then that he felt a slight tug on his heart. He hadn’t thought anyone else, besides his father and himself, had dealt with the pain of losing his mother. After killing his father, bearing the weight of loss became something he had carried himself, and it was such a heavy burden. At that moment Alucard had wished things were different, and that his mother’s love was enough to completely eradicate his father’s hate towards humanity. Maybe then he wouldn’t have needed to kill his father. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been so drastically alone. He yearned for the presence of his father, and much more than that, his mother. These were desperate and grieving thoughts, ones he had thought he was able to subdue, but they clawed their way from the recesses of his mind and attacked him once again. His throat tightened and he chastised himself for losing control of these wild thoughts, ones that used to keep him up for days at a time. To calm his mind, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, then exhaled through his mouth; he repeated this technique a few more times before opening his eyes.

He steeled himself and spoke with a gentler tone, “I do not know who you are and yet I empathize with you. If you truly came here to mourn my mother, then please…tell me who you are.”

The woman's sobbing stopped gradually, and she exhaled deeply once she was finished. Next, she sat back on her legs with one hand splayed behind herself for support and the other still clutched her amulet, albeit with a much softer grip. Most of her face was masked from Alucard, so he couldn’t see the forlorn look she had in her eyes when she raised her head to look at him.

He looks just like her, she thought. 

Fresh tears brimmed her eyes, but she was too exhausted to stop them from flowing.

She released her amulet to grip her hood, “very well.”

Frozen, Alucard didn’t blink as he finally saw this woman’s face. Her skin was a dark shade of brown and the richness of it was emphasized by the warm glow of the fireplace. This was contrasted by her wide eyes which were framed by thick, black eyelashes. The entirety of her irises and pupils were a blue so pale they almost blended in with the sclera, oddly there seemed to be some sort of inner glow that shone through, furthering her ethereality. Much to his surprise, they held a deep sadness that Alucard also saw in his own and momentarily reminded him of his father’s eyes moments before his death. Long, white, loosely waved hair cascaded down her back and echoed the same glow in her eyes. Though she looked to be in her early thirties, her face did not betray age-old wisdom.

Alucard gulped, she was beautiful.

Despite her grief, she lifted her head proudly and said with confidence, “I am Death, but you may call me Mistress.”