#I found the rough draft in my closet and thought why not post it

[throughtrialbyfire]

𝐖𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 ♥

on time this week! lets goooooo!! thank you to the amazing @thequeenofthewinter and @skyrim-forever for tagging me!! tagging @umbracirrus @your-talos-is-problematic @dirty-bosmer @mareenavee @changelingsandothernonsense @orfeoarte @thana-topsy @v1ctory-or-sovngarde @wispstalk @gilgamish @viss-and-pinegar and anyone who feels like joining! no pressure as always <3

since i just finished my rewrite of the early chapters of Cycle of the Serpent and posted a new chapter, i'm bringing an excerpt from another wip. i have no idea when this one will even remotely get finished, as it's one that i come back to and then leave alone for months on end, but i love the slow working of it. so, here's a tiny bit of my dragonborn frothar fic, "Kill the Creature, Shed the Blood"! this is an extremely rough draft, but i hope you enjoy!

The dragon didn't entirely sell Dagny on not telling their father, but it sure was interesting. Plus, if it got her moping brother out of Dragonsreach for a night, then maybe it'd be fun to send him on his merry way. The two crept through the halls, down past a locked door, through strange and unused corridors. How many basements and cellars did one castle need? Frothar cursed silently as he followed his sister through the dark, her own cloak concealing her form. He'd donned one for his travels, and was glad he'd done so. The chill under these stones sunk into his blood. He couldn't stop the shivers that raced up his spine at every cobweb, and wondered how many frost spiders he may have been standing above his entire life. Maybe this was where Farengar got some of his ingredients, but he wouldn't pry. That'd give away where he'd been. And he couldn't be sure, he didn't see anything larger than a typical house spider, but… "Stop." Dagny pushed a hand out in front of her. Frothar, lost in his thoughts, stumbled backwards, boots making a loud, metallic sound against his armor. "What? Why?" She turned back, brow scrunched. "Because you're stepping on my cloak, what else?" He hadn't realized how close he'd been walking behind her. Trusting her sense of direction, and losing himself in the examinations of his surroundings, he'd found that he'd been a mere hairs width away from her. He swallowed uncomfortably, scrunching his nose. "Ah." "Come on," she hurried him along, rolling her eyes. She gestured forward, her feet again finding graceful step along the stone, his shambling awkwardly behind her. For his younger sister, she sure was bossy. But, that had always been Dagny, since the moment she was born. The minute the girl learned how to talk, he'd watched her demand things, from her toys to attention to outings. She'd demanded horses to ride and blades to spar with and dresses upon dresses. He snickered every now and again thinking back on the first year of the Dragon Crisis, how one of the ones she'd had tailored had never arrived, and she sulked for weeks after. Last he heard, it wound up in the closet of some Thalmor general's daughter, but that was just gossip.

Frothar did his best to keep a subtle distance between the pair, but not too far as to get lost in the dark. Lanterns were a risk, so Dagny lead by a tiny candle and her hand cupped around the flame. The flickering illuminated the dust, the piles of hay, the musty stench that surrounded them filling his nose. "So, how come you knew of these tunnels, and I didn't?" He finally asked, Dagny stopping momentarily. Before he could ask why, she swayed the candle, dropping the hand that shielded the flame, metal on a small bench catching the gleam. A shrine to Talos, as solemn as the grave, buried deep beneath Dragonsreach. "These tunnels were built for times of war, didn't you pay attention? Farengar taught us all about them, but you just kept dozing off in his lessons." "Not my fault that he taught them on the Great Balcony," Frothar replied, thinking back on the early summer afternoons where the wizard taught them the history of their Hold - much to the dismay of both the children and the wizard himself - and the warmth of creeping sleep that Frothar did his best to resist, and failed fantastically on some days. He figured this must have been one of those days, and instead turned his attention to the shrine. The offerings were simple; coins, snowberries, and tundra cotton. Still, it sent a pang of familiarity through him, of the conversations his father and uncle had in secret, of Nelkir's idle gossip, the youngest being fully aware of their father's worship. Perhaps Frothar was the last of the siblings to become aware of this fact, and in a way, it sent another pang of worry into his heart. Did he miss even more important information? Was he truly sleeping through some of the lessons Farengar departed, the important ones? He didn't have any time to think this over, as Dagny trudged forward through the dark, winding her way through familiar pathways. Frothar fell in step behind her, not wanting to be left behind. He didn't want to know if he was right on the frost spiders being beneath the castle, or whether that was just his paranoia.

The door slid open with a loud, thunderous creak, the kind that made him wince and worry if anyone heard it. Dagny, unfazed, pushed through, blowing the candle out. Frothar looked at her with a knit brow, but Dagny waved it away. "I know my way through the tunnels," she explained. Apparently, she'd been doing this for a while. He looked out on the horizon. Whiterun sat in a basin of wide plains, between the rising mountains, much like the center of a delicate bowl. The wind brushed through his dark hair, and he stepped forward, grass crunching beneath his feet. He'd packed his things for this trek, but he had no idea just how much of his adventure was going to be him tracking down the dragon, or him trying to survive it. "Good luck. Oh, and Frothar? Next time Nelkir offers first, take it up, or I'm gonna have to drag you through the dusty basements again." He watched as Dagny turned and shut the door behind her, barring it. He was truly, completely on his own out here.

[officermaddie23]

If you here me now I’ll keep you safe chapter 1

A successful escape is what the human child thought he finally got away from the twisted Dr Hector. He kept on running until he encountered something that looked familiar. “Shit I thought I escaped” the child thought before fainting. But what he did not know was that this was nothing like that monster that tormented him.

Devon’s point of view

Devon was patrolling the park he was stationed at he was filling in for an old friend who went out of town to see their grandfather in the hospital. “Hey yo Devon” came the voice of his partner Lizardlegs a human and lizard hybrid whose known for her outgoing personality. “Yeah Lizardlegs what do you want” Devon asked getting his lantern.

“I saw a human it looked young and it did not look like it was a healthy kid at all and I hate to say this but your so called brother might be at it again.” Lizardlegs said with a sigh of sadness. “The poor thing had a tracer on it I don’t know what we should do” Lizardlegs said panicking

Devon thought for a moment before he ran off to find the child. When he found the child apparently his appearance made the child faint.

[chocominnie]

Wasted Times- Pjm.

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Warnings: A lot of Fluff, Angry Sex, Slight BDSM, Dom!Jimin, Jealous Reader, Fuckboy!Jimin, oral sex, Penatration, Foot Job?, kissing, spankings, seriously lots of jealousy and tension, use of the word ‘’whore’’, exhibitionism, cum in pants

Word count: 5.8k

Authors Note: So this is a draft of mine from way long ago. It was also posted on another account I used to be apart of, but no longer am. It’s an oldie but goodie. 

Copyright:  please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken.

Summary:  Two weeks, five days and counting since you’ve last seen him. Two weeks since that sinful body was tangled in yours, where you both let out strings of moans and shared sloppy wet kisses. Two weeks.

If it wasn’t for Hoseok that whole night wouldn’t have happened. Despite you already knowing of Jimin, what you didn’t know is that looks can deceive. Oh yes, they deceived you very well. When you met him it felt like it was unreal? It felt as though you were talking to an angel. The butterflies in your stomach whenever he spoke made you feel the blood rush to your cheeks. So unreal.

A cute cheeky smile and a squeaky laugh. Someone’s who’s kind hearted, as what you previously had heard from Hoseok himself. Oh, but did he leave the major detail out from you.

He’s a fuckboy.

One that knows exactly how to play his cards right. Knows how to get into a girl's pants and make them melt with the sweet and dirty things that pout out his mouth like honey. He has the looks and charms for it. The hand he runs through his hair constantly, those pink full lips begging to be touched by someone else. 

You’ve only recently found out about most of the girls he’s slept with. It wasn’t a lot but enough for him to qualify to get tested every month. All because he can’t keep his god damn dick in his pants. And you, the fool, fell for it. You fell for his ways. 

Yet he pretends to know nothing. He pretends like he didn’t break your heart by saying he can’t commit to a relationship. He was just a one night stand. He fucking acts that nothing happened between you two prior to having sex.... and it hurts.

Now you’re sitting in your office stuck in-between whether to let that night go, or to bring it up with him. Because surely, he felt something too when you guys made love for an hour and a half right? Right?

‘‘Y/N. Did you hear me?’ ‘  

You quickly snap back to reality to the nagging voice beside you. Taking a sip of your peppermint tea, you turn towards the young girl. Her full bangs compliment her perfectly shaped face. Her long, straight hair that curls at the end a bit is jet black with no sign of split ends or damage. She holds a blue folder tightly to her chest with a cheeky smile upon her face.  

‘‘Mrs. Jane would like to see your work for this month’s upcoming project. Do you have the rough draft done?’ ‘  

You nod, ‘’ I’ve finished it already. Are you collecting?’’ The girl nods her head and holds out her dainty pale hand. Next to you is your documents drawer which you rummage through for a good minute or so before finding your pink folder with all the information and sketches.  

‘‘Thanks..’‘ She smiles, then walks away to her next prey. You let out a big sigh and place your hands in-between your head. Never have you had someone constantly be on your mind.  

It was killing you.  

‘‘ Child are you okay?’‘ 

You turn towards the voice to your left which sits next to you is your best-friend. Her smirk lets you know she knows what you’re thinking about. She knows. She also knows about that one night stand that you couldn’t shut up about two weeks ago. 

You try to hold back your laugh, ‘’ I’m. fine.’’ You manage to choke out. She shakes her head again with that damned smirk on her face. ‘’ Was he that good that he has you sitting here contemplating life honey?’’ 

Your eyes go eyes go wide and soon enough you find yourself swatting her thigh while trying to cover your face of embarrassment. ‘’ Stop! Geez I shouldn’t have even told you about it.’’

‘‘ I knew about him before you even did. Once you told me after the fact, I automatically recognized who he was by the way you described his features so well.’‘ She shrugs, swiveling her chair around to face you. You do the same.

‘‘ What?’‘

‘‘ I went to high school with him. Park Jimin right? He was a ladies girl. Everyone wanted him. Plus he was a former dancer.’‘ 

Former dancer? It all makes sense. The way his body was nicely toned, not to muscly but noticeable. The way his hips moved every which way making sure his sinful area poked and pried at every nerve inside your walls. Made you let out strings of moans and whimpers because of how good he felt inside you. You’ve never felt something like that before. How dare he.

‘’ Well he has a cute friend. His name is Tae... Tae something. I don’t know but they were also friends in highschool. He was a handsome boy as well. If you would like to you know... tap that.’‘ She giggles.

Who does she think you are? Some type of person who gives away sex for a living? Definitely not. By the looks of your face she quickly abandons the subject. You decide it’s best to get back on task before your whore of a boss comes back around.

Only before that petite girl, with the bangs and perfectly trimmed straight hair, comes back with your folder and a ton of papers for you. As if this this day could  get any worse.

‘‘ No I don’t want to go tonight.’’ 

It feels like you’ve said this on the phone more than ten times. You’re sure of it. He just doesn’t want to give up. You’d rather be in the comfort of your home cuddled up in a blanket watching Netflix all day. After-all, it is a Friday night and it has been a very stressful week for you in the office. A nice hot bath and a binge worthy tv show is all you want right now. It’s what you deserve.

‘‘ Come with us it’ll be fun. You can invite your hot best friend too.’‘ He says, and you know he’s smirking on the other line. ‘‘ Hoseok for one, you will not hook up with my best friend understand? Two, i’m tired. I want to sleep.’‘

‘‘ Oh come on Y/N it’ll be fun. It’s just a night out on the strip. It’ll be fun. I’m bringing Jimin.’‘ He tapers off at the end to wait for your reaction. 

Could this be it? Another chance to see Jimin. Your chance to ask him.. if that night he felt something. Surely he did right? 

‘‘ I’ll come. But that doesn’t mean i’m coming for Jimin. I’m bringing Scar with me as well.’‘

A few seconds of silence fills the other line. Which you know that Hoseok probably muted himself to scream in success. You take this time to think about what you’re going to wear. Something that’s eye catching? Or something that’s casual yet classy since it is just hanging around downtown. Why not do both?

Hoseok come’s back to the line and you notice he’s more cheerful. It makes you smile to yourself, how cute. ‘‘ Be there in 45 minutes. We’ll be waiting by Krystal okay? Meet us out front of that place.’‘

You two say your goodbyes and hang up the phone. Anticipation runs deep through you lacing your blood with it. Just the thought of seeing him again rubs you the right way. 

Going into your closet, you take a good look at it and decide on a casual yet classy outfit. One that will surely catch his attention but very presentable as well. You hope that it’s going to pull through. Taking out your phone, you send a text message to Scarlet telling her all the details and to meet you here. 

‘’This will be one hell of a night.’’ You smirk to yourself as you pull out the accessories to your outfit. 

It wasn’t until you heard the doorbell constantly ring that broke you out of your trance of admiring yourself in the mirror. You look ravishing. Delectable. Every thing in the book. Surely you must have been admiring for quite some time because twenty minutes had passed and you didn’t even know it.

The doorbell ringing comes to a halt once you open the door forcefully. Scarlet greets you with a smile and a hug before coming inside. 

‘’ Okay does this make my ass look bigger than it already is?’’

You glance over at Scarlet who’s posing in-front of the hallway mirror, earning a small chuckle from you. ‘’ Yes, that dress always look’s good on you.’’

Scarlet grins at you, ‘’ Thanks. I try I try. You look sexy Y/N. Who’s getting it tonight? ’’

You giggle once more before  adjusting your black dress ‘’ You look so good Y/N i’m not lying. Did you put some make-up on?’’

You shyly nod your head yes, ‘’ Just a little. Not one of my dramatic looks.’’

‘‘ It suits the mood for tonight. Nothing to dramatic, more neutral.’‘ Scarlet says, picking up her purse again. ‘’ The dress does bring out your curves.’‘ She steps back and pulls out her phone for a snapchat picture. 

The two of you pose in the mirror for a quick second then giggle afterwards. Scarlet brings her phone back down as her fingers begin to type at a rapid speed. ‘I’m going to caption it; Going out with my babe!’’ 

You on the other hand were to busy into the hearts snapchat filter with Scar in the background of your video. You tap her with a smile and she looks up with a smile as well. ‘’ We are so gonna be late Scar. ’’

‘‘ Okay. Let me just grab my purse and we can go.’‘ 

You can’t believe you’re actually doing this. The cool breeze is enough for you to handle. Not to cold and not to hot of a breeze. Downtown is busy tonight, especially the strip. The neon signs blare into your vision, the cars speed past with drunk laughing people. Music plays coming from each store or bar you two pass. There’s a jazz man who’s playing some cool tunes next to the giant water fountain. You drop a ten dollar bill into his case hoping to brighten those tunes up a bit. Couples are everywhere you look. You haven’t been downtown in such a long time. Everything feels so brand new to you. It’s so lively. 

Scarlet walks confidently in-front of you, hips swaying naturally. You see Hoseok down the sidewalk waiting at the entrance for your arrival. Behind him is Jimin who looks fine tonight. He wears a long sleeve white Stussy t-shirt with black distressed jeans that show off his thighs. The same thighs that flexed with each thrust two weeks ago. The same thighs you wanted to ride because they had you soaking wet. Oh geez.

‘‘ Y/N! ahhh you look so good tonight!’‘ Hoseok grabs your hand and twirls you around a little. ‘‘ You’re right. Wow Y/N.’‘ A voice comes from behind him.

Part of you just wants to melt right into his arms right then and there. Keep it together.

‘‘ You don’t look bad yourself Jimin.’‘ It’s like your eyes refused to make eye contact with him. You want to, but can’t pull yourself to do it. ‘‘ And this is my best friend Scarlet.’‘

‘‘ Hello I’m Scarlet or Scar for short. Nice to meet you.’‘ She smiles, Jimin takes her hand and gives it a kiss. His eyes never leaves hers when he does so.

Scarlet lets out one of her nervous giggles as he lets her hand go. ‘’ How sweet.’’ Jimin smirks at her, ‘’ No worries. I’m Jimin, Park Jimin my love.’’ 

You almost choke at those last two words. My love? Seriously?

‘‘ Okay enough now that you’ve met my flirty friend who doesn’t know boundaries...’‘ Hoseok glares at him, earning a shrug from Jimin. ‘‘ .. I’m Hoseok. I’ve seen you on Y/N’s social media.. and I must say you are very pretty.’‘

‘‘ Thank you Hoseok. You are handsome as well.’’ She says.

You decide to end this introduction and start off the night. ‘‘ Alright enough of the talking. Can we have some fun tonight?’‘

‘‘ I agree, let’s get some drinks first.’‘ 

Only one hour in and you’ve only had one long island ice tea that you haven’t even finished yet. Somehow you’ve got tricked into third wheeling. Hoseok and Scarlet seem to be hitting it off very well walking in front of you.  But walking next to you is a quite Jimin. He’s to busy scrolling and typing on social media for him to even notice you. Oh so you thought.

‘‘ Y/N...’‘

The butterflies in your stomach begin. What could he want? ‘’ Hmm.’’

Jimin locks his phone and places it in his pocket. He then looks at you with that oh so familiar warm smile. ‘’ They seem to be hitting it off well yeah?’’

Oh. ‘’ Yeah. I ship it.’’ You giggle, crossing your arms.’’ How have you been? Haven’t seen your pretty self in weeks.’’ 

‘‘ I’m fine. You know, work and stuff.’‘ 

‘‘ Yes I can say the same. I’ve got some things going on as well.’‘ His eyes shift back towards the busy city. ‘‘ I’d be lying if I didn’t say I missed you.’‘

You stop dead in your tracks. He missed you? All this time you had thought he didn’t care but he does? ‘’ Missed me huh. Or did you miss the idea of me.’’

He smiles, ‘’ Can it be both?’’

You decide to let that comment slide. ‘’ Well Jimin. I missed you too.’’

‘‘ Great so I can do this.’‘

You’re caught off guard by his lips connecting with yours. Both of you move in sync with each other. Jimin open’s his mouth more so his tongue can move more freely inside of yours.  Both of your tongues fight for dominance making you moan inside the kiss. His hands cup your face, sending chills up your spine. Soon you find yourself whimpering for more, but you can’t let it go this far so you break away first.

‘‘ Hmm I missed those lips on mine. Sorry if I spooked you my love.’‘ Those dark brown eyes look deep into yours. ‘‘ I missed us talking constantly before we..’‘ He trails off, looking away from you smiling shyly.

‘‘ Yeah me too. We spent a lot of time texting and calling each other before that. But after that night we sort of.. stopped? I’ve been meaning to bring this up without it being awkward.’‘ You bite your lip, fiddling with your fingers.

Jimin looks around you guys. Scarlet and Hoseok are nowhere to be found. As he expected. ‘’ Well it looks like our friends ditched us. Have you eaten?’’

‘‘ I munched on something before I came here with you guys.’‘ You say, eyes shifting towards the city again. ‘‘ Well if you’re up for a little bit more of a walk I know this good place on the boardwalk. We are getting closer and closer to the beach.’‘

‘‘ Is this you asking me on a date Park Jimin?’‘ You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand. ‘‘ It can be considered our first friendly date. I would love to take you out some other time where it’s not last minute my love.’‘

‘‘ Stop saying that.’‘

‘‘ Saying what?’‘

You roll your eyes playfully, ‘’ My love. Stop saying it.’’

Jimin raises his eyebrows at you in amusement, ‘’ Did you just roll your eye at me.. my love?’’ Your cheeks have never hurt this much before from constantly smiling, but tonight you just cant stop them. ‘’ And if I did?’’

‘‘ I suggest you don’t do that again.’‘ 

The walk wasn’t as far as you thought. Jimin had linked his hand in yours on the way there. It surprised you for a minute but you let it happen. He hasn’t let go since. The two of you are sat down at a table outside by a waitress who cannot keep her eyes away from Jimin. Only if she knew how much of a sex god he was. Then she really wouldn’t be able to keep her eyes away.

‘‘ The moon looks beautiful tonight.’‘ He nods his head over towards the sky. Your eyes gaze over the sandy beach and waves that crash onto the shore. The moon lit sky peering over it looks beautiful.

Jimin brings both of your hands onto the table and intertwines them with his. A smile appears on his face when he sees you shyly try to hide your smile from him. Jimin’s most favorite feature of you is your smile, and moans of course, but your smile brings him happiness. It’s something about the way your lips curl up into a smile and your eyes narrow a little bit with it. Or when you laugh at one of his comments or jokes. It makes him happy inside and out.

‘‘ So, what were you saying earlier my love?’‘

You playfully roll your eyes again at that nickname. Before you can roll them again, Jimin’s smile drops and he let’s go of your right hand. You furrow your eyebrows at him for a second until you’re caught off guard with a tiny slap to the inside of your thigh. You hiss at the pain.

He says, ‘‘ Stop rolling your eyes at me. playful or not my love, I don’t like it.’‘ 

‘‘ Fine but stop calling me that nickname. You said it to Scarlet. Now I don’t want it anymore.’‘ You say, attitude high with your arms crossed.

Jimin chuckles and lets his tongue swipe across the inside of his jaw, ‘’Someone’s jealous.’’

‘’ I just see the name is useless is all if you’re calling other girls that.’‘

‘‘ Hmm jealous now aren’t we?’‘ He smirks, leaning back in his chair. ‘‘ Says the one who was all over me that night. Practically craving me. Now, what If i let someone else do that hmm? Equivalent to you calling other girls that name.’‘

His smirk never lets up. You know you trying to act all tough isn’t going to last. It’s just not in you. But what you can do is make him jealous and tease him for a while. You consider it a payback for those two weeks of hell you went through.

‘‘ I’m enjoying our night out Jimin. Thank you for taking the time to catch up with me tonight.’‘ Your face is innocent as ever, sipping on your water. 

His expression changes when your foot travels up his leg and onto his crotch and slowly grazes over the tip of his dick. Jimin glares and bites his lip at the constant friction between the head and your foot going in agonizingly slow circles. He let’s both of your hands go to try and pry your leg away but you increase pressure making him choke out a small wince.

‘‘ Aww. Cute.’‘ 

Jimin’s head pops up with a death glare on his face, ‘’ Don’t call me that after you just tried to pull some type of stun-’’

Your foot begins it’s slow circles again. It’s fun watching him stop his sentences. The way he holds in his moans and bites his lip. It turns you on very much.

“Fuck,” He grunts, eye’s closed.

You stop once your food arrives. The same waitress that can’t keep her eyes off of Jimin. She makes eye contact with her, and he winks as she places the food in-front of him. Your face drops into a stone cold expression. Once the waitress leaves his head slowly turns towards you with his famous sly smirk. He knew just how to press your buttons. 

You start back up again, going at an even faster pace at this point. He curses at himself and his eyes close again. You smile when he starts to shake his legs and breathe heavily. Only for Jimin’s eyes pop open with a devilish smile that confuses you. He grabs your leg and makes sure that your foot is positioned right ontop of his dick. He rolls his hips to the movement of yours, looking you dead straight in the eyes. You go along with it for now. But your eyes almost buck out of your head when he starts letting out moans and grunts as he throws his head back.

‘‘ Mmm fuck Y/N you do this so well.’‘

You’re at loss for words. The risk of being caught mixed with the sight you’re seeing now has your panties becoming wet.It takes all your might not to just jump over the table and devour him when he sighs in relief. You watch his body convulse of the aftershocks. So fucking sexy. 

And as if nothing had just happened, he picks up his fork and begins to eat his pasta. The rest of the night is silent. You both eat in silence but in the inside you want to say something but you know better. The stunt you just pulled has something coming for you. Maybe payback wasn’t such a good thing after all.

After Jimin comes back from the restroom, assuming he cleaned himself up well down there, he sits back down at the table with a warm smile. It confuses you.

‘‘ Do you want to leave now? We can go to my place and just chill for the night. Looks like the two love birds might have already went back to one of their place’s.’‘ He says, grabbing your hand once again.

You nod your head dumbfounded at what you didn’t know that was going to happen at his place. But you agree to go. What can go wrong?

The moment you guys enter his luxurious apartment, he pins you against the wall and raises your hands above you head. He tilts your head and nips at your neck, alternating between kissing and sucking. He hit one of your sweet spots that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

‘‘ Please Jimin.’‘ You cry out. Slowly pulling away, he pulls you from against the wall and bends to dip an arm under your legs to lift you up bridal style.

He deeply chuckles into your ear, ‘‘ You have an eventful night planned out for pulling that stunt at the restaurant sweetheart.’‘ His words sends shivers down your spine. 

Jimin closes the door behind him, giving you a taste of comfort before he has his way with you. He places you on his bed and you stare into those dark brown eyes that you love oh so much. 

‘‘ Face down, ass up now.’‘ He growls. 

You nod your head and do as told. Soon you feel your dress being unzipped and thrown to the floor. You’re in nothing but your bra and baby pink lace thong. His hands run up and down your spine, then to your ass. 

‘‘ You ruined my pants today. Made me cum inside them since you wanted to feel like you had control over me.. babygirl.’‘ He says, hands stopping right above your ass.

‘‘ Count for me Y/N.’‘

You don’t even have time to take a breath in when the first hard impact comes. It wells tears in your eyes but you love it. You love every smack and every second of it. And so you count for him, you count all fifteen hits to your sore,red ass. 

‘‘ You’ve taken your punishment well.’‘ Jimin says soothing the pain by rubbing over it softly. ‘‘ You looked so pretty doing what you’re told my beautiful girl. You deserve every inch of me. You deserve all of me.’’ His voice is soft and low. It intoxicates you. 

Jimin shifts you onto your back, his hands tracing every inch of your body. You prop yourself up with your shoulders and you don’t jerk away, instead you let him lean in and kiss you passionately. The lewd sounds of the two of you sharing a wet, sloppy kiss can be heard throughout the apartment. You whine in his arms wanting more than just the kiss. He growls in return, yanking your head back to mark up that pretty neck some more. His hands swiftly makes their way towards your nipples, you moan out in response.

“mmm so cute and hard for me.” He flicks your hard nipples with his index and middle fingers on both your breasts. The way he speaks is sinful. Your panties grow even more wet as he pinches your nipples to make you whimper. “ Making pretty sounds for me hmm? Got you all wet baby?’’

With his hands dropping to your hips, he pushes you to lay down on the bed. Your breasts look so captivating to him. Your back arches when his lips connect to your right breast and soon to your left.

“Jimin...’’ You whimper, tugging on his hair to get him to look at you. He pauses the swirling of his tongue on your breast and looks up with lust filled eyes.

“ Yes sweetheart?” He coos.

‘’Off... t-take it off.’’ You whine, moving your hands towards his clothing and tugging on it firmly.

Jimin smiles before balancing on his knees to lift off his shirt. You watch him strip his shirt off, revealing his beautifully toned stomach and sharp v-line. You want nothing more than to run your tongue across him, leaving hickies behind.

Once he takes off his shirt, he dips back down to you to kiss your lips once more. ‘’ Your reaction was instantaneous, your back arching as your hands flew to his hair in shock at the pleasure it gave you. You really were sexually frustrated. Just him kissing you was all too much for you to handle.

As if he could tell what you wanted, his hand found its way to the hem of your lace thong. He feels how wet you were with his index finger sliding up and down your entrance. Your breath hitched as he slid them off with his teeth.

Your mouth instantly falls open when one thick finger slides inside you, your wetness pouring out beneath his finger. Once his finger is coated in your juices, he pulls out of you leaving you whimpering at the loss of friction. You watch him slide his wet finger into his mouth, his eyes close as he hums around it.

“You taste so fucking good. Let me have more of you yeah? He says, waiting for some type of consent from you. 

You nod, wanting him more than ever.

Jimin props both your legs up onto his shoulder, licking his lips at the sight of your glistening core. You are left exposed to his lustful gaze as he took in the appearance of your swollen lips. Your lips spread apart to expose your clit that desperately seeks attention.  

And so he provides it. His head dips down to get to work on your cunt.  The pleasure you feel is outrageous, it has you clawing at his back, not even letting up, before letting out your never ending moans. You knew for a fact that Jimin’s tongue was a work of art when put to the test.

“Oh fuck! ” You yell out, arching your back when his lips begin to suck harshly on your clit, that bubbly feeling in your stomach appears. 

“Do I make you feel good ? Hmm, use your words.” He encourages, using two fingers to spread your folds apart to lick and suck on your clit.

“It feels so good Jimin, oh my gosh, please don’t stop. Fuck!” You cry out, tossing your head back as you clutch onto the sheets once more, leaving his hair alone. As soon as he hears that, he seemed to lose control. His fingers start abuse your g-spot in sync with his sucking on your clit. That’s all you took for you to explode around his fingers. Your body spasms when you close your eyes. You can practically hear your heartbeat pounding in your head.

That doesn’t stop Jimin though. He continues to abuse your hole but you can’t handle the over-stimulation. You grip his wrists to stop him in which he obliges. He pulls his fingers out of you slowly and shows you them before sucking on them harshly.  

“ Such a naughty girl now aren’t we.” He coos, rubbing your thighs that shake endlessly. “Want more princess?”

You nod your head, to busy lost in a trance. His words always get to you. A boy who knows his way with his words. The things that come out his mouth laced with either sweet venom or sugar. Damn him. Damn him for making you feel like this. Damn him for letting you fall under his ways. 

You don’t realize all of his clothes were off until the head of his cock is sitting at your entrance. He’s a nice size, as you remember, but it’s the thickness that gets you. He has a lot of girth and it damn sure stretches you out. 

“Shit, oh my gosh.” You moan, letting your head fall back as he starts easing into you. 

“ Mmm babygirl,” He growls, using one of his hands to spread your lips, giving him the bes view of you taking him all the way. “Fuck just look at that baby. Your little pussy stretching to take my thick cock. Feels good yeah?”

“ Yes Jimin, fuck, it feels so good please. ” You whimper, wanting to feel all stuffed and full. Finally he bottoms out and you definitely feel it in you.

Jimin’s hands grip your hips as he starts to move inside of you. Since your previous orgasm residue was still there, mixing with your fresh juices,  every time moved in and out your juices would drip.Lewd, wet slaps filled the room as the pace quickened, wanting to get you to cum again.

Your cries of pleasure filled the room. There was no point in hiding them now.  With his hips moving at a fast pace, and his dick murdering your g-spot, it makes you feel that familiar feeling again. 

“My good girl, you’re doing so well for me.” Jimin smiles, praising you as you become undone around him. Your hole spasms around his length and it feels like heaven for him. Jimin holds himself up on his elbows, resting his face against yours while he gently eases you through your orgasm. 

“You don’t know the things your body does to me Y/N. The faces you make when i’m fucking your brains out. You look like you’re in pure ecstasy because of me and only me, baby.” He whispers, his lips hovering just above yours. You nod and press your lips against his. Smiling into the kiss, his hips begin fucking you  again, getting up to his previous pace.

Your body is automatically put into over-stimulation mode. “Are you going to cum again for me?”

“Mhm, oh my god!” You whimper, closing your eyes shut harshly. Jimin pulls out of you, and starts to slide his cock up and down your folds to bring you to another orgasm. You let out a scream as Jimin watch your juices fly and soak everywhere around you both. Your death grip on the sheets havent left and your back is arched so high from the bed that he has to bring you back down. 

“Fuck, that’s it. You’re squirting princess.” He praises you, smiling as he doesn’t stop movement, juices everywhere. “You’re squirting so much baby look at you.’’

The feeling is too much for you so you shut your legs around him. Jimin smiles at you when you finally open your eyes. They hardly stay open but long enough for you to see him get himself off using his right hand. You open your mouth to say something, but he interrupts “Shh princess, you’re too sensitive. Maybe next time.”

You nodded with a small pout on your lips. You want him to cum inside you. To feel his hot sperm coat your insides. Your body says otherwise. You are spent, exhausted to the max..

Just as he is about to cum, you sit up and climb over to him. Your mouth quickly finds it’s way to his length and as if a habit, you begin to suck. ‘’You don’t have to princes- fuck.’’ He groans, releasing his load inside your mouth while you deep throat all his length.

Soon you pull away from his cock after he cums. You open your mouth to show him and then swallow it all down. ‘’ Filthy whore.’’ He smirks, pecking your lips.

Jimin kisses your forehead once more, before lifting up and disappearing into the bathroom. He returns with a warm, wet towel to clean up the mess between your legs. Your eyes flutter open and close. You catch a glimpse of his nicely toned back when he turns to disregard the towel. He comes back again with a green t-shirt which makes your heart flutter as he pulls it over your head. Another forehead kiss, then those nose, then the lips. 

‘’ Jimin?’‘ You coo.

He climbs in bed beside you, ‘’ Yes?’’

‘’ We never discussed what we are...’’ You say quietly, picking at your fingers. 

He laughs softly, ‘’ You know I can’t commit right now. I have too many things going on and-’’

‘’ Excuses Jimin.’’ You pout, turning away from him. ‘’ Aww come on don’t be like that. Listen, if I ever get my life together and the ladies off of me you’ll be the first one I run to, my love.’’ 

‘’ Promise?’’ 

‘’ I promise.’’

Oh so you had thought. Another two weeks had passed and the same thing happened. Now you’re stuck in your office again contemplating life, as Scarlet would say. The only difference is, he texts you more often. Usually good morning and goodnight texts. An occasional ‘how was your day.’ 

You can’t help but to wonder what he’s probably doing with other girls. Feeding them empty promises. Saying sweet nothings in their ears. Letting them hear what they want to. It’s no doubt he knows what he’s doing. No doubt.

Only if he hadn’t wasted your time.

Two weeks and counting since you’ve last seen him. Two weeks since that sinful body was tangled in yours, where you both let out strings of moans and shared sloppy wet kisses. Two weeks.

[hitozy]

all you who sleep tonight ‹ masterlist › he and i

𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬

Sharing a bedroom had proven to be of no bother for either parties. Iwaizumi had feared it would be a bit awkward given that they weren't romantically involved, but his worries were a bit useless, YN had made it easy and comfortable for the both of them.

Cohabitating and sharing was starting to make him feel different as well. He couldn't really put a name on it, but it started when he began to see the little things around him.

Going into the bathroom and finding his toothbrush beside yn's. Her towel hanging beside his, the shower containing his and yn's products, he accidentally tried yn's body wash and ended up liking the smell and exfoliating that he mentioned to yn if she could buy more. She had giggled but agreed, mentioning the different types that there were which ended up in both of them starting to shop together after work and school.

He found himself staring at her as she looked over the products, making sure they are the right ones. Or when she pouts for Iwaizumi to have a heart and let her buy junk food (which he always does). Or when he opens the closet door to find his clothes beside hers, the contrast of variety and color always making him smile.

Or when he wakes up earlier than his alarm, turning his head to find her beside him. His eyes travelling from her hair sprawled around her pillow, her hands clutching said pillow up to her shoulders, watching the goosebumps appearing on her skin. Eyes travelling down to always find the bedsheet pooling under her waist and he never knows why or how. He would pull the sheet up, cover you as he watches you let out a soft sigh and a content smile that never fails to make his heart flutter.

It makes him wonder if he's always felt this way, and if not, since when?

―

Jae hasn't stopped calling him.

He thought that after the discussion they had at yn's parents last week would be enough to get her off his back, but it proved to be pointless and he was beginning to think that she did not leave the house by her own assessment.

Mr. and Mrs. LN must have sent her home after listening to her horrible criticism of their daughter. Something she had done in the past and never failed to sour his mood. He didn't know what her problem was, but he knew she was lying about everything concerning you, learning it was best to ignore her comments than correct her.

It was on the third day that he felt his patience snap. She had been calling him relentlessly to the point that the coach had asked him to take the call, 'It could be an emergency.' He disregarded it as spam calls and was left alone once he placed his cell the profile in vibration, so even though it was vibrating non-stop, at least everyone else couldn't hear it.

Once it was lunch break I pulled out my phone.

53 missed calls from Jae

15 voicemails probably from Jae

27 texts from Jae

He ignored Jae's attempts in communicating with him, deleting everything in one go and focusing on a little one who had also been trying to get in touch with him a while ago.

1 missed call from mochi mochi

3 texts from mochi mochi

mochi mochi: omg sorry! I forgot that you're in training rn mochi mochi: I was calling to let you know that I'm heading to the library for school work D: mochi mochi: letting you know because you wanted to pick me up today, i'll go home later dw! have a lovely day hajime♥

His little mochi was a bit selfless sometimes. He was going to text you back, but his irritation from Jae's insistency was rubbing him wrong all over his body so he thought best to call you and let your voice sooth his nerves.

"Hajime! Good morning, is anything wrong?" Just like that, he felt his frustrations be washed away at the sound of your voice, like cold water running all over him.

"Morning mochi, I saw your text, everything all right?" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the athletes and the coaches acting as if they weren't listening but the way their bodies were leaning towards him gave it away.

He had half a mind at telling them to mind their own business.

"Ah, well, we got a request from the film majors to help out with their project scripts and we weren't actually going to do it, since we already have enough stuff as is," he recalls the nights he would come in late, watching you giving it your all even if you finished at 3am, he was worried about your health during that time and after your breakdown, he had a reason to be worried now, "luckily we are working in large teams, sadly I'm doing the rough draft."

"Sounds rough, mochi. Anything I can do to help?"

In an almost timid manner, she asked softly "Keep me company?"

How could he reject?

―

Once he hung up, one of the senior coaches passed behind him and smack his hand on his back with a grin, "The ol' ball 'n chain, huh? You should go and buy her something to eat today, having to tolerate your ass. Now come on, we have a team to train for a win."

―

11:45 pm

He had brought her favorite food and drink to the school library, sneaking to the back to eat and not get caught by anyone there. It look familiar yet very different from the one back in California, when he would stay until early morning studying on the weekends, with you doing the same in the video call in front of him.

Now your right in front of him, physically and mentally in his presence. He had been working on some stuff from work as you continued your studies and felt relived and in peace in the comfortable silence but, it had been a while since he had finished it all and he soon found himself staring at you.

The shape of your eyes, your soft hair, your nose, your soft lips, the curve of neck, the way your shirt shaped your breasts...

He mentally slapped himself at that thought, why- why the hell is he thinking of your breasts? Since when is he thinking about it? Why-

"Ah! I didn't even notice the time, let's go Hajime... are you okay?"

"Yeah, um why?"

"Your face is all red", she came to stand in front of him, touching his forehead, "hmm, you don't have a fever... maybe you're just tired? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you to stay for so long." Her soft cold hand felt nice against his face as she rubbed her thumb up and down his forehead.

He remembered that she used to do this when she was younger, "You have to stop doing that Hajime!," she would exclaim as she rubbed his forehead in a similar matter as now, "You'll get wrinkles too young!"

The old memory made him laugh, your expression back then mirrored to present day. "What so funny?"

He smiled and took all of your stuff from the table, taking your hand in his, "Nothing, lets just go home, mochi."

Can you hear my heart? Oh, but I can tell! We are twin starts With different births. My caring shadow ― It has your face. The voice of my soul Knows well your name.

Tell me, Can you hear my heart? Oh! how I love you, My best friend.

Twin Stars ― Clairel Estevez

taglist ! @daphnxy @zukoslosthishonor​ @i-am-a-hoe-for-shinya @mrsdoradominguez-barnes @anejuuuuoy

a/n! i beat the system so here's a chapter guys ♥ also... since i couldn't post one last week, there will be a double post this one!

[ragrottend0ll]

School Crush (Vinira Fanfic)

(In december I posted this little idea and now I decided to started it, hope you enjoy and forgive the misspelling, english isn’t my first lenguage)

Chapter one:

‘‘I like girls’’. Emira started.

‘‘I like girls, too’’. Amity seconded after a few seconds of silence.

‘‘Ok...’‘. Alador responded a little shook. ‘‘I-- Wow, yeah, ok.’’

‘‘Is that all you are gonna say, dad? Really?’’. Asked Emira. She didn’t spend seven years in the closet for just to get an ok.

Alador shruged a little. ‘’Congratulations...?’’

‘‘Fine, that’s better’‘.

The Blight siblings and Alador were hanging out. This was something that have been happening some time ago. At first it started as a sisters’ night, just for Amity and Emira, but then Edric discovered this and was begging, crying and basically annoying his sisters for let him ‘’in’’. 

He finally achived it.

So, every friday night, while their parents were in important meetings or fancy restaurants, the three would reunited in Emiras’s room and just talk. Sometimes they watched a series or practice some makeup. Even tried on clothes from either Edric or Emira. Sometimes they would sing a karaoke or just talk about their day, their friends, Luz, and throw bullshit of their parents.

They didn’t need to worry about the mansion’s staff. They all like them and have never said something bad of them to their parents. Plus, some have sewn up mouths so... Anyway.

What they did not expected was that, one night, their father would return early. 

Alador was honestly tired. He have been awake for three days straight and needed some sleep. Even when his lovely wife, Odalia, told/demanded him to stay awake and attend another important meeting, he denied. Alador was sure that, if he stayed awake for another hour, his body will just collapse.

When he arrive to the mansion, the buttler (he never can remember his name, really) was there and took his coat. Alador didn’t wait more and went upstairs. The Bight manor was splendant, huge and, now that he was walking alone through the corridors full of old portraits in the middle of the night, he would consider it spooky.

The portraits gave him chills in his back. He felt like the eyes of his wife’s ancestors were following him in every step he took. 

‘‘I wouldn’t be surprise’‘, Alador tought. ‘‘They may be haunted for real’’.

‘‘I should probably ask Odalia about it’’.

Alador walked to his bedroom’s door, and when he was about to open it he heard something.

It was a scream. 

‘‘The kids’’. He tought.

Alador ran as fast as his tiredness allow him to the wast wing, where the children’s bedroom were. The screams kept going, ‘’Where is the staff?’’ Alador asked himself mentally. His kids could be diying and non of the guards he hired were even near.

The screams were coming from Emira’s room. But the shouting didn’t sounded like Emira.

He looked at Amity’s and Edric’s doors. They haven’t come out and their doors were closed. Alador was tempted to open the other two door, but decided not to. If his children were being kidnaped, he’ll deal with the kidnapper in Emira’s room first.

Alador took a deep breath and casted a spell, ready to attack if he needed to. He opened the door, fast and hard. What he saw let him speechless.

There was no kidnapper. There was no danger.

But, he really didn’t know what to think about the scene that was display infront of him.

Emira’s room was a disaster. There were snacks in the ground, Alador wonder if Odalia would be mad about it, he answered himself almost inmediatelly with a yes. The room was dark, except for the karaoke that, Alador supposed, one of the twins bought.

Edric was lying in the floor with a microphone in his left hand, while his right hand where finger-brushing his hair. Oh, and he was using Emira’s lastest grom dress and a twelve centimeters tall heels. 

Amity was sitting in the little sofa that Em buy two years ago. Her face had some very excentric makeup, specially her eyes. A wildly combination of pink, glitter and black. With red-sparkled lip gloss. Her triangular earings were replaced with a pair of Emira’s expensive earings that were only used for important meeting or fancy parties. She was wearing her regular pajamas, with the slight difference that, over her pants, she was wearing a puffy skirt. And that her feet were covered with long cowboy boots. 

 Emira was sitting in her bed, face was covered in some kind of skin care treatment. A phosphorescent green skin care treatment. Even with that, she was the most normal looking of the three. All her makeup was in the bed, (probably the responsable of Amity’s face) and her hand was grabbing her scroll, that was recording Edric’s  performance, before he opened the door, at least. The scroll was still recording, by the way. Em didn’t have time to stop it before his father abruptely came in the room.

The Blight siblings were looking at him like deers flashed by a light. Each of them praying in their heads that if they don’t move Alador wouldn’t be able to see them, like some of the animal in the isles.

‘‘You... uhm,... arrived early’‘. Edric stated the obvious, crearly nervous. But, can you blame him? Not everyday your dad found you wearing a dress and using heels . Actually that never really hapened to him. 

The music of the karaoke was still playing. Alador connected the dots and figured out that his son was the responsable of the screams.

‘‘Yes, I did’‘ Alador responded. He never had been a man of words, but in this moment he didn’t know what would be the correct way to react.

Should he scold them for being up at one in the morning making a fuss? Or He should just close the door and pretend that none of it happened?

He was definitely going to ask the servants if this was something that happened often and why they had not reported those... meetings that their children did.

‘‘Mom’s here, too?’‘ Amity asked. Her face now was now also covered with a strong blush of embarasment, that reached even her neck.

‘‘No, she is still in the meetong with the Hogson’s’‘ Alador answered.

‘‘Do you want to talk this now, or would you preffer to wait until the sun comes out?’‘ Alador asked. He wan’t sure if this was the right thing to do, but the words came out of his mouth even before he could think about it. That was something that didn’t happened to him since high school.

The kids glare at eachother and said a ‘’now’’ at the same time. If they waited for the sun, Odalia was probably going to arrive and they didn’t wanted to have that conversation with their mother. 

None conversation, actually.

‘‘Alright’‘ their father said ‘‘Clean your faces and put on presentable clothes’‘ 

And with that he leave the room.

‘‘That could have been worse, right?’’ Edric said. He finally stoped doing the pose with his hand trought his hair.

‘‘Yeah...’’ Emira answered him ‘‘Mom could have catch us’’

‘‘Titan forbid’’ Amity said.

Once they cleaned their faces and put on their pijamas, the three siblings made their way to Alador’s office, who has completely forgot how tired he was.

They were nervous, Edric, specially. And were honestly surprised when the scolding was more about how they broke the curfew than about all the mess they did. 

And after that, things evolved rapidly. The kids felt better in Alador’s pressence than ever before. They trusted their father even more because he didn’t said a thing to Odalia, and even gave the order to the servants to keep those meetings as a secret. 

 Two months later, Alador found himself spending the family-bonding-time, as Edric renamed it, with his children. The bonding-time had to be moved to saturday’s night, because Alador had the obligation to go to the meeting on friday. But the kids weren’t mad at all.

‘‘Dad?’’, Edric called for him. It has been five minutes since Emira and Amity’s comming out and Alador haven’t said anything esle since the congratulations. ‘‘Girls, I think you shouldn't have done it at the same time; now you’ve killed him’’.

‘‘We didn’t!’’ Amity shouted inmediately.

‘‘No, I think we actually did it, Mittens’’ Emira seconded.

‘‘I’m fine’’ Alador said some time later. The twins were disscussing if they should call an ambulance or just leave their dad there. Emira was drafting in her mind all the possible ways to hide Alador’s corpse in the manor, too. You have to be careful, right?

Alador sit up straight in the couch were she was lying. Before his both daughters come out to him some minutes ago, they were all watching a movie. If Alador had to be honest, he wasn’t really paying attention. He was falling asleep. This week has been rough, but for no reasom he would cancel the saturdaynight bonding time™. 

‘‘None of my kids are straight, huh?’’ Alador thought. 

Ok, to be fair, Edric haven’t come out to him (yet), but Alador prectically confirm his son’s orientation when he founded him performing when he discovered that friday sisters’ night. No straight, cis, man would use a dress and heels. Not even walk on them in the propper way Edric managed to do. 

‘‘So, uhm, are you... mad or...?’’ Amity began.

‘‘Oh, no. No!’’ Alador answered, with a little laught that lately the siblings were more used to hear ‘‘I’m actually kind of relive.’’

‘‘Relieve?’‘ Edric asked, genuinely curious.

‘‘Indeed. I don’t have to worry about any potencial boyfriend and the concecuences that would imply-’’

‘‘Shut!’’ Amity and Emira shouted at the same time. ‘‘The school already teach us that. No need to repeated.’’ Emira continued.

‘‘I was talking about a heartbroken, but yes, sexual education is very important too.’’ Alador said. And, tho he seemed serious, he was teasing his daughters.

‘‘So, you are ok with this?’’ 

‘‘Yes, Amity.’’ 

Actually, I’m kind of a pansexual, myself. Alador tought,  but keep shut.

The movie was paused. Probably since some time ago but Alador didn’t notice. He glare at Emira’s wall clock. 12:05, it marked.

It was early, Odalia wouldn’t be back until three in the morning. Anyway he open his scroll to verify that his wife haven’t texted him or something.

There was nothing, as expected. Only Odalia’s last message where she told him that she was going to leave the party at 1:45 and was expecting been home around 3:00 a.m.

‘‘So,’‘ Alador started ‘‘any particular reason to tell me your orientation?’’ 

Yes, it was sweet, but Alador did knew his daughter a little and can almost tell that, at least Emira had something else to say. 

‘‘No, no reason.’’ Amity answered. ‘‘Just to tell you with Em.’’

Alador look at his older daugher, waiting for her answer. 

Yes, they were closer than bever before, but the sad truth was that even if his children did trusted in him, he didn’t think that they trusted him that much. 

It was reasonable, not less hurting, but understandable.

‘‘Well...  You see, er. Ok, so. I actually wanted to tell you because, uhm....’’

Alright, now this was new. Alador never in his life had heard Emira stutter.

All his children were raise to be the embodinment of perfection, as Odalia describe it. The three took classes of everything. From music to etiquette, and diction was not left behind.

Now, Alador was sincerely curious.

‘‘There’s this girl in the school, and well-’’

‘‘Emira has a big crush on her.’’ Edric interrupted.

‘‘But Emira can be around her without being a red mess.’‘

‘‘You are one to talk, huh, Mittens.’’ Emira asked. Her cheeks were already a little blushy.

Amity looked away and Emira continue: ‘’My point is, that, her dad is kinda, a little... short budget. And-’’

‘‘Emira, I love you, but if that girl is using you for your money-’’

‘‘No! She isn’t! Sh doesn’t even know that I liked her’’

‘‘Well that’s debatable’’ Edric said ‘‘It’s really obvious and Viney it’s not as oblivious as Luz, plus-’’

‘‘Who’s Luz?’‘ Alador asked.

‘‘It doesn’t matter right now’’ Emira stated. ‘‘The point is, dad, that she didn’t even tell me his dad was in a little hurry. I was walking towards her and she was talking to her friends about it and I just heard a little. When I told her I could give her some snails she declined and actually was pretty mad about it, until last week, when I apologized. But I really want to do something about it.’’ Em talked fast, but Alador, as the good listener he had always been, didn’t missed anything.

‘‘And how can I help?’’ Alador asked.

‘‘Well, you can make him get a job? Maybe here in the manor or somewhere else. Her dad is in the construction coven, I think he is like, the right hand of the leader.’’ 

Alador hummed. Contruction coven right hand? He was a right hand once, before he was level up to coven leader. And he knew very well the salary of the seconds on board. It was a great amount of snails.

‘‘And before you say something like ‘she’s scamming you’, I want you to know that her family is really big. She has like, twelve siblings, not including her.’’

Alador sigh.

‘‘She really is a good person, dad. And if I can help her, I will.’’

‘‘She’s one of the noblest people we’ve met. There’s no danger’’ Edric said in favor of Emira’s propose. 

Alador looked to Amity, who haven’t said much, and asked her with his eyes for her opinion.

‘‘I don’t hang out with her a lot, but she’s indeed good.’’

‘‘Well, I guess I have no other option, do I?’’

‘‘Thank you, dad!’’ Emira shouted and jump to her dad’s lap to trap him in her arms in a tigh hug.

‘‘I don't promise anything, but I'm going to see what I can do.’‘ Alador responded and hug Emira back. 

He looked at Edric and Amity and with a head movement he invited both of them to join the hug. 

Edric took Amity’s hand and join to it.

Well, Alador thought, I guess I have some work to do now.

[dancingkirby]

Who wants a sneak preview of some Sokkla sexy times?

I have at least rough drafts done of all four scenes for my Short Stories Chapter 69 special, so I thought I’d celebrate by posting a snippet of one of them!  Since I’m evil, I cut the preview off before it got to the actual sex...but all the more to look forward to once I get it on AO3, right?  I’m hoping that’ll be within the next week.

Azula couldn’t quite comprehend the sequence of events that had ended with her leading the Water Tribe peasant boy by the hand to the first vacant room she saw.  It had started out simply enough, with her sneaking furtive glances at him any time there was an opportunity during Zuko and Mai’s lengthy wedding ceremony.  She had been fairly certain that he was aware of this and doing the same.  And why shouldn’t he?  She was nineteen, in the prime of her looks, and had regained her healthy appearance after a year of being out of the hospital.  Sokka had changed quite a bit himself.  Five years ago, he’d had all the awkward proportions of someone mid-growth spurt.  Now, he had completely grown into his body and had filled out quite nicely.  And Azula had always appreciated a nice pair of toned arms on a man.  Also, he’d grown a sexy little beard, which was a nice bonus.

Then, they’d ended up just a few seats apart from each other at the subsequent dinner, which facilitated the eye sex even further.  (Mai, of course, had been the one in charge of finalizing the seating plans, and Azula couldn’t help but wonder…)  The newlyweds had retired early to much hooting and hollering, and things in the banquet hall started to get rowdy.  People started pairing up looking for slightly more private locales…lots of male-female couples, but also plenty that were two men, or two women, and even, in a few cases, more than two people.  It was as if, after more than a century of such relationships being illegal, everyone was making up for lost time now that the laws had been repealed.

Sokka was not one of the ones who left.  Azula recalled hearing from Ty Lee that he and Suki amicably separated a year or so ago because the necessity of a long-distance relationship was getting to them. The Kyoshi Warrior was at the wedding too, of course, but she was quite a bit farther down the table, deep in conversation with…Anshi?!  Well, Azula didn’t think that her bookish eldest half-sister was Suki’s type, if that was indeed what they were planning…but whatever.  Sokka glanced over that way briefly too, and he didn’t seem concerned or upset in the least.

Azula’s gaze drifted back to the Water Tribesman’s biceps, and she found herself wondering what other delights might be concealed beneath his clothing.  Before she knew it, she was on her feet.  Fuck it, why not?  She had been in a constant state of at least mild horniness lately; Ty Lee had been so busy at the university that Azula hadn’t been with her in that way since the semester started.  Still having no idea how to flirt, she merely walked over to Sokka’s place at the table and stood there silently until he noticed her.

“Well?” she asked flatly, arms folded.  “Do you want to or not?”

He took a moment to consider; if he said no, Azula was certain that she’d have to leave the hall anyway to go masturbate in her rooms.  But then he was rising from his chair, and she breathed a little sigh of relief.  

“Wow.  Not what I was expecting,” he commented.  “But okay.”  

Azula took his warm and slightly sweaty hand into hers. She noted approvingly that Sokka still had a fairly steady gait as they started walking.  Not drunk out of his mind, then.  She herself had only stuck to one cup of plum wine for politeness’s sake. Everyone else remaining at the table, however, was so inebriated and/or preoccupied that no one noticed them leave; at least, Azula thought they didn’t.  And now they were wandering the palace, looking for an appropriate place for their little liaison.  There were currently many unused rooms, since the huge families and sprawling harems that had been the norm when the palace was built were no longer customary, and Zuko kept a smaller court in general than their father had.  Even so, the first several rooms they passed had already been claimed by other intrepid lovers; the sounds emanating from behind the doors made that much clear.  Finally, Azula located a tiny closet that she knew was sometimes used to store cleaning supplies, although it was empty now except for a few cobwebs.  

Sokka eyed the closet with some trepidation.

“There’s no furniture in here,” he observed.  All Azula did was smirk at him.

“We won’t need any furniture,” she informed him.  “Now close the door before someone decides to gawk at us.”

[hopecountysfavhoe]

‘Cold’ Chapter Two

Ok I got impatient so I’m not uploading a new chapter every week, I will upload more often until the point at which I have no more chapters posted on Wattpad. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2,722

TW: Nudity, whump, pain descriptions, mild language, arguing?

     Jacob eventually fell asleep, sitting upright in the stiff wooden chair. His arms were folded over his chest, his chin pointing down at his lap. The fire was slowly dying, only coals were left at the bottom of the fireplace. The wind had died down, but the snow hadn't stopped yet and was stacking up at an incredible rate.

     The Deputy woke up to a cold wind on her face. The cabin was pretty drafty and something that was blocking up a hole must've fallen somewhere. She looked around, trying to piece together what happened. She saw Jacob asleep on his chair, and she got red faced when she realized how naked she was under her blanket.

     Despite her face growing hot from embarrassment, the rest of her was cold and she looked over at the dying fire. She spotted some firewood sitting next to the fireplace in a wood crib and figured she could put a couple sticks on to hot coals.

     Sitting up proved harder than she imagined it would. Her whole body was tired, like all of her energy was still trapped under the ice. Her hands shook, both from being chilly and from her exhaustion, as she pulled her blanket closer around her. She tried to be as quiet as she could, figuring that Jacob was a pretty light sleeper, she didn't feel like waking him up so that she could listen to him drone on about why he really rescued her. It probably had something to do with all of those wolf calls she'd been blowing up and so he saved her so that he could put her through more torture.

     She groaned at the thought of Jacob gloating about how she owed him or whatever now. The groan could have possibly been from her trying to stand as well though. Forcing her legs to hold her body weight was probably a bad idea but the Deputy was all about making bad ideas for the greater good, and at that moment the greater good was not being cold. She wished she had something to lean on, even a cane would work, but she just had to push forward using the arm of the couch as a support.

     She adjusted the blanket around her shoulders, hiding her naked body from view, and nearly stumbled as she made her way over to the fireplace. Carefully, she grabbed a piece of wood out of the creaky wood crib and semi-tossed it onto the coals.

     "What are you doing?" A voice spoke behind her.

     Scared, the Deputy spun around, coming almost face to face with a very awake Jacob Seed. She glanced back at the fire, clutching her blanket closer to her. "I uh...the fire looked like it was going out." The Deputy stammered out and Jacob looked at the fire behind her.

     He didn't say anything as he watched the gently flames curl around the dry pieces of wood. A silence settled over the cabin that made the Deputy uncomfortable. Jacob nodded at the fire, seemingly convinced of something, looking back at the Deputy. Her pale face was sweating and red. "Jesus, would you sit down?" He said gruffly and the Deputy was happy to oblige. She was certain that even a small misstep would cause her to fall right to the ground.

     Jacob watched as she stumbled around the coffee table, lowering herself onto the couch. She looked back up at her clothes that were hanging by the fire. "Are my clothes dry?" She asked, her voice little more than a creak. Jacob grabbed her shirt off the hook and felt it under his fingers.

     "They will be soon." He said, looking over his shoulder at the Deputy. He partially realized why she was so cold was because of the cold draft running through the cabin. And because she was still naked. He didn't say a word as he walked over to his mini closet and pulled out what looked like a long sleeve shirt.

     He tossed the long sleeve over to the Deputy, it landed on top of her blanket. "Oh, thanks." She was wary to say but she was relieved to be putting on real clothes. She unwrapped herself down to her waist in her blanket, quickly throwing the shirt over her head to hide her body. The shirt itself was about four sizes too big for her but she didn't mind. She looked over at Jacob who was shuffling something around in his kitchen cabinets. He had his back turned to her, not paying her half a mind of attention.

     Jacob could tell she was having trouble putting the whole situation in order. Besides, she was sitting in his cabin naked, well partially naked. He decided that he would explain to her the condition of the storm, then he'd come up with something to say to her. He pulled out two cans of soup and two spoons, walking back over to the Deputy.

     "Here, you need your strength." He said and gestured for her to take the can out of his hand.

     The Deputy reluctantly grabbed it. "How do I know you didn't poison it or something?" She asked and Jacob scoffed.

     "I figured you understood that we made a temporary truce, seeing as I did bring you to my cabin and made sure you didn't freeze out in that storm." Jacob took out a cold spoonful of soup, eating it while making eye contact with the Deputy. She looked down at her soup, mixing it around with her spoon.

     "Yeah...thanks for that." She said sheepishly, trying to ignore him staring at her. She took a bite of the soup, it definitely looked better in the can than it tasted but she knew it was good for her.

     "What are you doing all the way up here in the middle of a snow storm anyway?" Jacob asked, leaning forward on his knees.

     "I was hunting actually, I broke through the river between the two hillsides." She rubbed her ears, they were still ringing from the shock of the cold water.

     Jacob whistled. "That's a pretty deep spot." He said and the Deputy nodded.

     "You don't have to tell me." She shivered and ate more of the slimy soup. A time of silence passed before either one of them said anything. "How did you find me anyway?" She asked looking up at Jacob.

     "You weren't that hard to find, you were making so much commotion that damn near anything in this county could have found you." Jacob mixed his can of soup.

     "Yeah but why are you even up here? What are you following me or something?"

     Jacob let out a huff. "You do know that I have a life of my own, right?" He said sarcastically. The Deputy rolled her eyes and went back to her soup. They were quiet yet again, both of them focusing on their respective gross soups.

     The Deputy felt her bandaged side over Jacob's shirt, checking to make sure it hadn't come off while she was sleeping. "You should probably change that." Jacob broke the silence. "That bandage, it was a little damp last night but you fell asleep before I could do anything." The Deputy nodded, agreeing with him.

     "I was going to change it last night when I made a fire but...well you know that I didn't get that far." Jacob nodded, setting his empty can on the coffee table. "Where is your first-aid kit?" The Deputy asked.

     Jacob stood up and walked over to the cabinet he got the shirt out of, pulling out a yellow medikit. He walked back to the Deputy and set the medikit on the table. "Lift your shirt." He said, again not asking.

     "No it's ok I can clean my own wound, I've been doing it all this time." The Deputy said and set her can of soup on the table.

     "I wasn't askin'." Jacob said and grabbed a bottle of sterilizer.

     "Jacob I'm telling you, I'm doing it myself." The Deputy didn't lift her shirt and kept her arms folded.

     "Which one of us is more qualified? A Junior Deputy or a military man with actual medical training?" He asked rhetorically and knelt down in front of her. The Deputy was uncomfortable but yielded, uncrossing her arms and lifting the shirt just above the bandage. Jacob pulled the bandage off, making a low humming noise with his throat. "I figured, this wasn't properly bandaged." He said and set the old, bloody bandage on the coffee table.

     "I was in a hurry." The Deputy huffed, leaning farther back into the couch. Every time he touched near her wound she would flinch, not just from pain but also from his rough, calloused hands.

     "What even is this? I know it's not a bullet wound and it's definitely not an arrow wound." Jacob asked, pouring some sterilizer into the wound.

     The Deputy winced at the stinging pain coming from her wound and grit her teeth. "It's from a stick."

     "A what?"

     "It's from a stick! One of your goddamn Judges forced me over the edge of a much steeper hill than I remembered it was. I hit a couple trees on the way down." The Deputy let out a slow, long breath as Jacob wiped the sterilizer away with a towel.

     Jacob chuckled, it was a deep throaty chuckle, a real chuckle. "Who would have thought, I couldn't break you but a stick and a river could." By his tone the Deputy could tell that he thought the idea was incredulous.

     "Well," the Deputy wiggled in her spot, "I guess you're not stronger than nature, Jacob Seed."

     That statement made Jacob huff, obviously annoyed that the Deputy was getting her wit back. But he ignored that annoyance and studied her wound more carefully. It was red and irritated, almost like it didn't want to heal. He could see where the stick went in, and where the Deputy yanked it out. "Did you get the stick out?" He asked and the Deputy gave a quick fake laugh.

     "Of course I got the stick out, can you please just finish bandaging that?" She looked down and saw his furrowed eyebrows and intense stare.

     "I don't think you got all of it out, I think that there's a sliver of wood in there still." The Deputy groaned.

     "Look as soon as the snow lets up and my clothes fully dry I'm heading back down the mountain to Fall's End, I'm sure I'll get help from the doctor there, proper help." She added but Jacob shook his head.

     "It's already getting infected, did you not notice that?" He barked at her and she felt surprise wash over her. Why in the world would Jacob Seed be worried about her getting an infected wound? If it did kill her, wouldn't that just make his job easier?

     "I've been taking care of it, I just needed food so I went hunting. Here just hand me some ointment and a bandage and I'll finish the rest." The Deputy reached for the bandages but Jacob pushed her back into the couch by her shoulder.

     Seeing as she was still taxed from her exposure the day before she couldn't really fight him. Even though she wanted to. "You need antibiotics." Jacob instructed.

     "Ok, let me just run down to the store really quick! Look around Jacob, we don't have what it takes to fix it now so I'm just going to keep doing what I've been doing until I can get to see a doctor." Jacob's face looked angry, but he understood the situation and pulled his hand away from her shoulder. The Deputy watched him carefully as he turned back to the medikit, grabbing her old used bandage and walking around the couch. He didn't say anything but she could tell he had a lot of rage at her that had been building for a while.

     She didn't know where he was going or what he was doing, and honestly she figured she was going to get yelled at if she tried to ask him so she just went to grab the ointment and bandages. The area did look pretty bad, but the Deputy knew there was nothing she could really do about it so she pretended to ignore how bad it was. She slathered on some ointment and quickly bandaged it up, making sure it was tight. It hurt a lot, more than it had been hurting but the Deputy just assumed that she'd blown it out of proportion in her head.

     "I'm getting more wood." Jacob said gruffly, being quick to grab his jacket and hat. The Deputy didn't say anything, she didn't really know what to say. When he opened the door, a violent rush of windy, snowy air flooded the cabin. He grabbed his axe and marched out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

    The Deputy had no idea why he was so mad. Was it possible that her talking back to him like that could get him so upset? It seemed ridiculous in her head, but on paper it almost made sense. He didn't like to be spoken back to, the only one that's ever really been able to put him in his place was Joseph, but that rarely happened.

     The Deputy pondered the thought while she stared at the fire. The wind had forced her to pull her blanket up to her chin as she shivered. She looked out at the swirling snow outside the window and shuddered. It had definitely occurred to her that if Jacob hadn't of showed up when he did then she'd already be dead by now. And that wolf would have been enjoying his easy meal.

     She tried to come up with an explanation as to why Jacob would have rescued her. She doubted it was because he felt sorry for her. She doubted even more that it was because he was worried about her. Because that was impossible. To Jacob Seed, the Junior Deputy was little more than an experiment, a tough case he was trying to crack. She barely thought that he thought of her as a person, she figured that in Jacob's mind she was only a favor for Joseph. Probably even an obstacle for him to tackle to prove how great at brainwashing he is.

     The Deputy realized that her laying half-naked in his hunting cabin to wait out a storm was the pinnacle of inappropriate, and decided that the soup had given her enough energy to start walking. Besides, while she was waiting for Jacob to bring back more wood the wind was dying down. She hoped it would stay that  way until she could get down to her truck again.

     She gave herself a quick pep talk, telling herself that waiting around on the couch wasn't going to give her energy, that making it would do that. She convinced herself that going downhill was going to be much easier than going uphill and that she'd be fine as long as she buttoned up. Finally she got up, only wobbling a little and took off Jacob's incredibly warm shirt. She replaced his shirt with her tight undershirt and base leggings. Both were cozy and warm from drying by the fire, which the Deputy accepted.

     She picked up her pack, which had also been drying by the fire, and shoved a couple spare bandages in it. She finished zipping that up and pulled on her snow clothes, sitting down to get her snow pants on. When she finished lacing up her boots and squeezing on her pack and gun she found a piece of paper to write a note on.

    Thanks for rescuing me, maybe we extend that temporary truce to until I get off this mountain? The Deputy's note read.

     She set it somewhere that Jacob would see it and added a couple logs to the fire. She grabbed her gloves and hat and trudged out the door, satisfied that everything she'd touched was back to the way it was when she found it. Except Jacob's shirt, that she folded next to the note. When she closed the door, she pulled her jacket up to cover the bottom of her face and started down the mountain.

[stardancerluv]

Hello, Anon! I went through drafts & different outcomes/scienieros. I hope you like it. I will post here at least one different version. When I do I will reference to the title, so you know that was an alternate take. Enjoy!

King of Gotham, Daddy to One

Summary: The wind blew you in and changed his life.

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️ Reference to abuse, Daddy kink, virgin, cum, smut, an unintentional voyeur and a certain amount of fluff.

Rain was heavy in Gotham, as the lightning streaked across the puffy gray clouds, and the thunder rumbled loudly.

You ran away from your father’s large beefy hands as he chased after you. You weaved in between various buildings and alleyways

He was a low level pimp, it would be only a matter of time; before he or one of his goons would find you. Perhaps, he would succeed in beating you up and you’d die. Your life in a word was miserable.

Seeing an overhang you went over to it, to get out of the rain. Hiding there awhile you managed to drift off.

“What the fuck?” A deep voice so startled you, that you fell right into a large puddle. Getting up you backed away from the man with white blonde hair. “Who, are you?” You didn’t move as fear filled you. You resisted a shiver that came over you, as the cold rain water seeped into your clothes. You didn’t speak.

“Victor, you gotta kick this nasty habit, I hate having to come back here to discuss particulars.” You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, when you heard another male voice. He gave a strangled sigh. “Wait, who the fuck is that?” You opened your eyes.

As the man with the blonde hair opened the door wider, he flicked his cigarette away, shaking his head. The other one shielded his eyes to better see you. “Hey you, stop lingering,” He beckoned to you with a gloved hand before running it through his hair. “come in from this damn weather.”

“Ok.” You agreed in a small voice.

*****

He hoped they wouldn’t regret this, helping some Gotham brat. When Roman saw you, he was taken a back, you were a small girl. Your delicate features caught his eye. He swallowed hard when he saw the smudge of a purple bruise on one cheek.

“You’re just a girl.�� Roman exchanged a look with Victor.

Your long stringy wet hair fell into your face as you looked down. “I am twenty.” You held tighter onto the strap of your knapsack.

“Oh, ok....”He pressed his lips together. That didn’t make the sight of the bruise or how desperate you looked any better. “It looks like you’ve hit a rough go of things.

You nodded. As you stood there dripping on the floor, looking god awful. He felt compelled to take care of you. “What’s your name?”

Something lingered in your eyes, that intrigued him. Your eyes met his for the span of a breath before looking back at the floor. “I’m Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N lets get you upstairs so you can get into something dry. Maybe tell us what happened, Y/N.” He tested out your name. He liked it.

He looked to Victor, “Clear the rest of my night. I am going turn the night around for Y/N.”

“Sure thing boss.”

“Oh, you don’t have to.” You spoke fast, barely looking up. “Just put me in a small dry closet, I’ll leave when the storm is over.”

A wave of emotions washed over him. “Don’t be silly, I would never fucking do that.” Seeing you wince, he sighed. “I will make sure things are better then that.” He gestured to you again. “Follow me.” As you waited for the elevator, he slid you a glance. “I want you to tell me what happened to you. I am going to make them pay.

*****

Roman, sipped from his martini as he watched you eat the food, the chef brought up.

The jeans, you had slipped into revealed just how tiny your frame was, your incredibly bright socks were endearing. The shirt that you tied in front of you showed the soft curves you had. Though, seeing another another purple bruise on this time on your arm made his blood boil. Your hair, looked soft and shiny as it framed your face.

Victor appeared with a sundae, he put it near you as you ate. He noticed that you flinched when Victor grew close.

“Oh, you didn’t have to.” You said shooting the two of you a look before continuing to eat.

Roman, smiled. “Sweetheart, you are here now. You can stay for the foreseeable future,” He shrugged. “I will take care of you.” The words felt odd on his tongue but the sentiment felt good. This was new to him.

She looked at you, there was a storm in your eyes. The moment, you met his eyes, you looked away again.

Normally, he enjoyed when someone knew their place. You were like a whipped puppy which probably was not far from the truth. Those purple bruises and your lack of eye contact spoke louder then you ever could.

“Thank you.”

****

Later, that night when you were alone in the bedroom, you threw yourself on the bed. The day finally slammed you hard. You cried no more like sobbed into the pillow.

The kindness of your rescuer, stole your breath away. He was so kind, it was too much for you. You were drawn to him in ways you couldn’t explain. He was incredibly handsome for an older man but there was something about him that simply grabbed you.

As you held the pillow to your body that night, a part of you wished it was him that you were curling up to. For the first time, in a very long time you felt safe.

*****

When your father found out that Roman Sionis and Victor Zsasz was looking for him, he disappeared.

*****

As safe as you felt living with Roman, you still had trouble sleeping, even three months later. You would wake up with nightmares of your father finding you. Tonight was one of those nights.

Unable to fall back to sleep, after tossing and turning, you decided you’d have more of the chocolate cake you had a few days ago. Walking past his office, you saw the light was still on. Since he was up as well, you figured you’d bring him a slice too. You poured some milk into some glasses, and then headed to his office.

With a push of your hips, you opened the door to his office. He was sitting behind his desk reading papers, he didn’t look happy.

“Y/N, it’s 3 in the morning. What are you doing up?”

You came around his desk and put down the slices of cake and the glasses of milk. “I couldn’t sleep so grabbed a slice.” You hopped onto his desk. You had grown so comfortable being there that you comfortably wore only a tshirt and a pair of panties. His desk was cold.

He gestured to the additional piece and glass. “I saw your light was on, so I figured I’d bring you a piece too.”

He smiled. “That was sweet of you.” He grabbed his plate. “You forgot something.” “Oh! What?” “How am I going to eat it?” You brought a hand to your mouth. “Oh! I am sorry.” Then you smiled as an idea struck you. “I know what I can do.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow.

You hopped off the desk. “Can you back up a little for me?” In your mind, you relished how good he looked in his maroon and black silk pajamas and robe. Though, he always looked good.

He slouched less in his chair as he backed up. Grabbing his plate, looking at him, you chose to straddle one of his legs. The silk felt good on your legs. Being astride him like this made an ache blossom deep within you. It was a good ache.

You broke a piece of the cake off and offered it to him. He tried to grab it, “No,” You held your hand back, you shook your head. “Let me feed you.” You said evenly despite feeling as if you heart was going to burst.

You brought it closer to his mouth. He complied and it almost killed you. Occasionally, his hand went up to yours barely touching it. A few times his lips grazed your finger tips, each touch of his lips, made the ache more intense. This was new you. He finished his cake way too soon.

“Your turn.” He said simply.

Turning, you grabbed your plate and handed it to him. “Where shall I sit?”

“Right here baby.” He patted his thigh.

You settled, straddling his thigh, but kept your weight off him, like before. He met your eyes, “Sit down or I will lay you over my knees and slap your ass....and you won’t have any cake.”

Your eyes widened. Your heart which was already racing, beat even faster at the idea of being over his knees. “And why, would you lay me over your knees?”

“That’s how I would treat you for being bad.” You swallowed. Something about that sounded incredibly delicious.

“I better be good then.” You settled on his thigh. He made a sound that you couldn’t discern. You went to move but his look froze you in place. “Am I too heavy?”

“Don’t be silly.”

You licked your lips and waited for his offering.

You made a soft sound with the first bite, “I forgot how good it is.”

“Only the best, baby.”

He offered you another piece and yet another but this one he pulled it away, making rock on his thigh. “You don’t play fair.”

He smirked. “Did I ever say I’m fair?” “No.”

“Life is no fun if I play fair all the time.” He grabbed a piece, offered it to you but you had to lean in. Right as you thought, you could enjoy it, he ate it. Your mouth dropped open, and he chuckled. He grabbed a piece, you didn’t go for it. “It’s for you I promise.”

You opened your mouth, this time you grazed the tips of his fingers with your lips. It made the ache almost unbearable.

Your eyes met. You wondered if he knew you deliberately did that. “Two more pieces.”

He offered you one, you happily took it. Then he held up the last one. This time he leaned in as you leaned in.

It happened, you gasped as your lips met his. Your eyes immediately snapped open. His hands grabbed you and pulled you closer to him. It was then that the two of you finally kissed. You followed his lead in the kiss. When you felt his tongue, you easily opened your mouth, moaning into the kiss. You had never had a kiss like this.

One of his hands, slipped under your t-shirt. “You’re so soft baby.” You couldn’t help but move under his touch. His hand felt so good. “Will you show daddy?”

“Show daddy?” You could barely finish the word. It shook you to your core. “Show daddy what?”

“Daddy, wants to see the rest of you.”

You faltered. “I’ve never...” You looked away. “Oh...”

You didn’t want to scare him away, so you pulled your shirt over your head, letting it drop onto the floor of his office. So you were only clad in your panties.

He rested his hands on your hips. His thumbs caressing you gently. “I would have thought,” he let his fingers drift, till they slipped between where your panties and his pajamas met. You called out and rubbed against him. “That you were experienced. Especially, since you’re so lovely, baby.”

You decided you’d show him. “I only ever did this.” You rubbed up against his thigh, his fingers that were there. “And I’ve never had a kiss like that.” Embarrassed, you looked away.

******

“Do not be embarrassed.” He swallowed. “I will say this, the men you knew, were boys.” You looked down once again. With his hand under your chin he tilted you face up to look at him. “I promise to take care of you. So do not look away from me.”

“Ok,” you whispered.

He was at a loss for words. These last few months were a slow torture. Ever, since laying his eyes on you he wanted you and he always got what he wanted. He waited for you.

“Now, I may push your limits but I promise it will be fun.” He smirked. “Do you understand?”

You laid your hands on his chest, “I want you, Roman.” He groaned as he heard you say his name. It made him even harder.

Roman, remembered when Victor and him found you, how bad off you had been. That is the only reason why he waited. He was not a beast, he never have and never would force himself on anyone. When he felt how aroused you were when you straddled him, he no longer was going to deny himself or you. And tonight, he’d finally have you.

“Good.” He put his hands over yours and squeezed your hands. “Take those off.” He watched as you pushed off your panties. The site was delicious.

He took your hand, “Get up and come with me baby.” Taking your hand he brought you to his room. He shed his robe. “Go lay down for daddy.” He watched as crawled onto his bed. Damn. How did he get so fucking lucky.

He went over to her. He laid on his side beside her. Cupping her cheek, he looked into your eyes. “I am going to make you feel so good.” He kissed you then, your hesitation yet willingness to follow his lead was wonderful.

He let one of his hands drift down your body. He caressed your breasts, loving how they were ripe for touching. He barely touched them when he was able to pull moans from you. “Yes, baby let daddy know when he makes you feel good.” He pulled back to watch the pleasure to fill your face. He let his hand drift down lower. He saw that your legs were closed. “Open for Daddy. He wants to make you feel so good.” He cooed.

“Oh there you are.” He made a soft sound as he dragged his fingers against your wetness. “So wet for daddy.”

He as he rubbed you. He saw you arch. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes.” You were breathless.

He found you opening, he slipped a finger in a little feeling the resistance, as you made a sound he saw a of discomfort. “It will be ok, I promise baby.” God it made him hard, knowing he’d be your first. He rubbed at your little nub, that pulled a loud moan, the prior discomfort immediately a memory.

“Yes, like that.” “Yes, what baby?”

“Yes, daddy.” You whimpered, putting your own smaller hand over his. “Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?” Your eyes met his, “I used to touch myself there thinking of you.”

“Oh really baby?” “Yes.”

He moved, his fingers firmer on you. Your words made him harder still. He felt like he could burst. He watched as your hands shifted up to your breasts as he rubbed you feeling you grow wetter.“Do that baby, help me make you feel good.”

You tossed your head from side to side, “oh daddy...daddy.” You whimpered, panting.

He saw you still arching, panting. He sped up his fingers. You saw you just move uncontrollably. “Cum for me baby...cum for daddy.”

That’s when he watched as you shook and screamed out.

****

A floor below, Victor awoke to the scream filling the silent building. He jumped out of his bed, grabbing a t-shirt he pulled it on and was at the elevator, before be could catch his breath. He rain his fingers through his short blond strands. He knew you had had a rough go of things.

He had grown to be concerned about you. Before you, his loyalty was simply to Roman and his empire. When you came to reside in it, he also cared for you. He was eager to make your father pay for the pain he caused. He grew to see you like a sister to him. Like Roman, he’d protect you to the death. He hoped right now that you didn’t do anything stupid.

The elevator doors opened to Roman’s floor. Following the indistinct sounds not sure from where, he ran when he heard you scream again, but then stopped dead in his steps.

In front of him, he watched for the briefest of moments as Roman spoke to you in low tones as he wrapped arms around you as he began moving in and out of you.

He turned on his heal, relieved you were ok. He was relieved neither of you saw him as he made it back down to his floor.

*****

“How did that feel baby?” He eased his fingers from you. He licked his fingers. Damn, you tasted good. He knew you two would have alot of fun. He pulled off of his pajama top and tossed it.

“Would you like to help daddy feel good now?”

“Yes, daddy you have to feel good too.”

“Open up wide for me baby.” He caressed your legs, enjoying the site of how you looked with your legs opening further to fit him.

He climbed over you, pushing his pajama pants down. He sighed as he was able to release bis hardness from their silken prison. “You look so damn good baby.” He said softly as he positioned himself over you. “Baby, look at me.”

You raised yourself up and met his eyes. “Yes.” When you saw him, your mouth opened more. “Is that what I do to you daddy?”

He nodded. “Yes, baby. You made daddy very hard.” He made himself slick with your wetness, it felt so good. “This part is going to hurt, but I promise this is the only time it will.”

You licked your lips and nodded. “Ok,” you were breathless still from just cumming. He brought his hardness to your wet entrance. It pulled a moan from him. He had never waited this long for someone.

“This is the part that will hurt baby but we will get through it and then we can make daddy and youself feel good all over again. He pushed forward. You called out screaming but slowing his pace, it turned into a deep moan as he filled you. You were so tight he almost came from himself sliding into you.

“Are you ok baby?” He thumbed away one tear that sprang from one of your eyes.

As you nodded, he caressed your legs so that they wrapped around his waist. He spoke softly to you, cupping your face. “Now you are going to feel so good.”

Slowly he began moving in and out of you, he moaned as he did. “Oh baby,” he moaned.

He looked a moment at his doorway and shook his head. He thought he had heard something but he had been mistaken. “You feel so good.” He whispered.

“You do too, daddy.” You began moving with him. Damn, he felt so good being deep within you.

Pleasure filled him more as your small hands drew him into a breathless kiss. Your lips and tongues met like your bodies.

He continued to thrust into you, pulling back he wanted to watch your first time. You were even lovelier then before. Hair and eyes wild He could feel as you tightened around him, it made him almost cum right there. It shot reams of pleasure right up his spine.

“Cum again for me baby.” He urged. Feeling, seeing you arch was a delight. Then you shook around him, calling out his name before wilting under him. He continued to move in and out of you. “You feel so good.” Your eyes were heavy with the pleasure he had given you. He felt himself get closer, and closer still. He wasn’t going to make any risks.

Moving, he pulled himself out of your tight wetness reluctantly. He looked down at you, as he wrapped his fingers around his hard length and rubbed himself up and down hard. “Oh...baby.” He moaned and finally came hard, bracing himself with one hand on the bed as he shot onto your stomach and breasts. It made him feel all the powerful. He had made you his.

“Daddy, what did you do ?”

He smirked. “Daddy came hard because of you.

“Oh!” He watched as you ran a finger into it. Then brought it your lips and licked at it. “Ooh, daddy tastes good.” The sight, your words made him twitch. He moved and laid down beside you, a smirk played curling his lips. “That makes daddy very happy.” He handed you his pajama pants. “Wipe yourself baby and come cuddle daddy.”

He managed to capture his breath and happily wrapped an arm around you as you curled up to his side.

[deansawthetvglow]

Prompt: For Dean's birthday, Cas Googles "presents for loved ones" and inadvertently follows recommendations for romantic gifts.

Shit. Okay. Hi anon, i forgot how to see inbox notifs and have no clue if u sent this during my drunk promt ask or sober prompt ask but will fill now.

Alright nvm ^^^ that didn’t happen.

 I lost this prompt for days after I got drunk and I couldn’t find it in my drafts and alas, finally. Anyways, this was written fully sober, lmao.

Just a Little Bit of Your Heart, 2.2k, 

fluff, light angst, post s14. (ao3 link if u want)

It’s January 20th, 4 days out from Dean’s 40th birthday and he still has yet to decide on a gift. It’s his first time, really, buying Dean a birthday gift. Sure, there had been the pack of funny socks he had snagged in passing from the check out at a Gas-N-Sip, but there hadn’t been any thought behind that, no planning, nothing that Castiel thought constituted the socks as a gift. Not really. 

Not only that, but there had never really been occasion to purchase a gift for Dean until now. Sam and Castiel had decided that, with the world coming to an end and all, Dean finally deserved a proper birthday party. In years past, he had either insisted on drowning out his birthday’s with booze or insisted on ‘no gifts.’ 

Castiel isn’t sure why, maybe because the eldest Winchester brother would only feel more indebted to the others around him, or perhaps because he simply didn’t like gifts. Either way, that’s why it became his mission to get the perfect gift for Dean. Something that isn’t a curse, but a comfort. 

The time after Mary and Jack had passed away and Chuck opened the gates of hell had been rough for Dean and him. Sam had kept a protective arm’s length between Castiel and Dean, insisting Dean needed time. It hurt to feel their bond being stretched thin as he’d watch Dean across the bunker from the corner of his eye, careful not to step into his space. Castiel had decided to stay in the bunker despite the tension though, Sam insisting they needed all hands on deck as they began on the long road to killing God.

Still, despite their close proximity, and the time they’ve had to heal, he can’t help but feel further from Dean. 

Cas remembers when Sam told a story of the time he gave Dean a chocolate bar and some motor oil for Christmas. Apparently, Dean had lit up at the sentiment, but Castiel can’t handle settling for something like that. 

Dean deserves something special. 

Castiel begins his search on Google using the simplest, most “Dean” search terms he can think of. 

Men’s flannels

Not special enough

Classic records

Maybe some time, but still, not good enough.

A new pair of boots

Shoes are always too risky. 

Cowboy costume

Halloween maybe, but not for this. 

Guns

Dean already has one he trusts. 

It’s been nearly two hours browsing Google and Amazon before Castiel has to take a break and let his head loll back with a sigh. 

After stretching a bit and standing up to pace the length of the bunker, he finally settles on a Google search that he’s sure will bear fruit. 

Gifts to show you care for someone. 

Castiel takes his time clicking through the links and scrolling through many of the lists. He nearly gives up when finally, an article entitled, “Gifts to Connect You to the Person You Care About”  catches his eye.

Cas smiles at the headline and clicks through the list, cataloging the possibilities away in his mind.

However, all those possible gifts dissipate from his mind as soon as he sees it. It’s perfect, and they have some in stock at the Bed Bath & Beyond an hour and a half away in Nebraska. With that, Cas calls a “Be back later!” into the seemingly empty bunker and heads out to fetch Dean’s gift. 

When he finally arrives at the store, he makes his way inside and heads to the sleep section, his eyes lighting up when he sees what he’s looking for on the shelf below a big “As Seen On TV” sticker. 

Next to the sticker it reads: “Bed Beats” 

Bed Beats are a pair of wristbands and compact speakers that are connected via wifi anywhere in the world. Just slip the wristband on, place the disc speaker underneath your pillow and send a request to your partner through the app. When they slip on their own wristband, the device will relay their heartbeat to your speaker and vice versa. Never feel disconnected again.

Castiel grins, giddy, and picks up the first box on the shelf. It’s exactly what he and Dean need. It’s the perfect way for Cas to watch over Dean without invading his space. It’s anatomical communication without speech. Cas will know when Dean needs help as his heartbeat speeds up, he’ll know when he’s at peace, he’ll know he’s alive. 

He also blinks at the bursting yellow sticker that sits on the top left corner of the box that exclaims, “Great for Long Distance Couples!” 

They may not be a couple, but with the way that their souls and relationship has grown distant, Castiel decides that’s enough to classify them as ‘long distance.’ 

As he waits in the line to check out, Cas also grabs a simple card and a tube of discounted, red wrapping paper left over from the holiday season. 

When he gets back to his car, he decides it’s best to get everything in order before presenting the gift to Dean. When he finally gets into the heavily taped box, he pulls out one set of the wristband/speaker combos and sets it aside for himself. 

Before shrouding the other set in the metallic, red of post-Christmas, 99¢ wrapping paper, he syncs the devices and downloads the app to avoid the hassle of setting it up later. 

Then, he writes, with his thigh as a sort of table, in the card with an old pen he found in the console of his truck. 

I’m including the instruction booklet in this card (please don’t read until after you open the gift!)

Dean, 

I know I’ve made so many mistakes lately, and that perhaps we do not see eye to eye on everything any longer, but this is a chance to connect without having to agree. Just to sleep and not be so alone. 

Happy Birthday. I hope you like it. 

Yours, Castiel

However, he scribbles out the ‘yours’ as it feels out of place in this letter. With that, he seals the card, and the instructions, into a white envelope with Dean’s name in angelic script printed on the front.

The drive home is pleasant and he can’t help but feel butterflies for the moment he gets to present it to his charge. 

The next days pass silently, Castiel with his gift for Dean hidden in his own closet and nearly forgotten amid all the preparations for the party. 

Sam was in charge of inviting people and Dean had insisted on being in charge of food and drinks. On the day of the party, Castiel sits off to the side as many of the guests enter, most are hunters he’s never met before, and he can’t help but feel like an outsider as the day of barbequing and reminiscing devolves into pie and drunkenness by nightfall. 

He’s glad to see Jody and Claire, but even then, their conversations are stilted, both of them want to speak primarily to Dean, the ‘birthday boy’, while Cas isn’t allowed that luxury. 

He sits away from Dean all night, only making contact to say “Happy Birthday, Dean” after he blows out the ‘4’ and ‘0’ candles that someone stuck straight through the latticework on a sweet, cherry pie. Cas smiles as Claire goes up and whispers something to Dean that makes him throw his head back in laughter and begin a lively conversation with her. 

That’s when he realizes he’s on the outside looking in. 

From where he stands, nursing a finger of whiskey, he can see Alex and Garth discussing the medical anomalies of Lycanthropes, Sam, apocalypse-world-Bobby, Donna and Jody playing some sort of cards-and-drinking game, a few people he doesn’t know attempting beer pong in the war room and even a pair of local hunters musing over the library’s expansive collection. 

He’s an outsider like he’s always been with the Winchesters. When he’s not of use, he feels unwelcome. He knows there’s never any ill intent, but even now, when he doesn’t even need his angel mojo, he still doesn’t quite fit. He doesn’t understand half of the banter thrown around the room, he can’t get drunk unless he drinks the entirety of the Men of Letters scotch collection, and he can’t interact with the guests without Dean coming up. 

At this, loneliness overtaking him, he decides to retreat to his room to wait the party out. 

He sends a nod and a tip of his glass to Sam before motioning that he’s leaving, Sam acknowledges him with a grin, drunk on whiskey and the excitement of the party, and Cas slips out of sight. 

Before letting himself rest, he sneaks into Dean’s room to place the card and the gift on his bed. 

He decides it’s best that way.

–

Castiel keeps his personal speaker and wristband close to him, beside his phone on his nightstand, hoping that some night it will be of use. He feels the uncertainty drift in and out as each night passes without so much as an acknowledgment of the gift. 

A week passes before anything happens. It’s 3 am when Castiel’s ears pick up on the small ‘ding’ that pops out of his phone speakers. 

He rolls over and grabs his phone. On the screen sits a notification. 

Bed Beats

Dean would like to share his heartbeat. Accept?

Castiel grins into the dark and arranges the speaker underneath his pillow before securing the soft band around his wrist at his pulse point. 

With a tentative thumb, he swipes to accept and lays his right ear down onto his pillow to hear Dean. He can hear his heart beating quickly, possibly a nightmare, Cas thinks, and wills his own jittery heart to slow. He has to be the grounding one for Dean, has to be a comfort. 

His own heart beats deep like a drum, and soon he can hear Dean’s heart rate slowing to match his own. Soon, they’re in perfect sync with one another. He feels closer to Dean than he has in months and hopes Dean feels the same. 

He listens as his charge’s heart rate begins to slow even more, to around 75 beats per minute, he notes, and assumes he’s slipping into sleep. 

Castiel, usually one for wandering the bunker after the brothers are asleep, doesn’t dare lift his head from his pillow until Dean ends the connection come morning light. 

It continues like this for many weeks, Dean requesting Castiel’s heartbeat in the wee morning hours, disconnecting at sunrise, and going about the days as if nothing has changed. 

Nothing’s really changed during the day. They continue to keep their distance. Dean thanks him for making the coffee one Sunday morning and Sam tells Cas, “See, space is all you needed,” his eyes sincere, “It’s healing.” But Sam doesn’t know the reason the healing process has begun to speed up. Cas can tell Dean hasn’t told his brother of the gift, and he prefers it that way. It’s the first thing between them that Sam isn’t clued into since before Mary’s passing. That alone brings him peace.

It’s a Tuesday in early March when everything shifts. Cas is lying on his back in his bed, nerves nearly taking him. Dean almost always pings by 3 am, and now it’s 45 minutes past and he’s trying to keep calm. 

A sound makes Castiel’s ears prick up, but this time it’s not a sharp ‘ding,’ it’s the soft sound of knuckles rapping on his door. 

Cas, beneath the covers in his most comfortable shirt, one Dean loaned him for the brief period he was human, props himself up on one elbow and quirks his head as the door opens softly, revealing Dean in his doorway. 

He’s in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt with holes around the seams, and a pair of black briefs, and the “Send Noods” socks Castiel bought him. 

“Dean?” 

“Hey, Cas” Dean whispers into the darkness as he steps into the room, shutting the door behind him with care. 

Words die on Castiel’s lips and his breath hitches as Dean pads, soft and calm, to his bedside. 

He lifts the corner of Castiel’s blankets ever so slightly and looks down into the glint of Castiel’s blue eyes as if asking permission. Castiel gives him a slight nod and holds his breath as Dean lifts the covers further and slips in under them. He positions himself with his head resting on the left side of Castiel’s chest, ear right above his heart and arm draped across him, hand gently thumbing at the soft fabric on Castiel’s right shoulder. 

Castiel can feel his own heart rate pick up, it’s swift and uncontrollable and it’s filling his vessel up to the brim with hard thumps. He’s beginning to wonder if he’ll ever breathe again when a low thud overcomes his near panic. 

As bright as a bell in a void, he hears it, Dean’s heartbeat, drumming from the deep. This time it’s his charge’s heart that’s strong and steadfast and convinces Castiel’s own to join it in slow synchronization. 

Castiel takes in a breath and slows his own heart rate. He sees Dean’s eyelids flutter shut and he lets his chin rest in the soft of Dean’s hair, his left hand rubbing slow circles into his back. 

“I missed you.” 

Dean doesn’t speak, but Castiel can feel the whisper of a smile move on his chest. 

As he lets himself drift into peace, thoughts blink in his mind at the pace of his heart. 

I fit here. Dean fits here. This is my family. This is who I love. This is home.

____

(Gift based on this!!!)

[batbirdies]

NaNoWriMo 2019 Batfam fic

So, apologies to anyone who already reblogged or liked this post because I Accidentally DELETED like a MORON. 

I’m posting rough excerpts from my NaNo project this year which is a fanfic centered around Jason Todd eventually agreeing to dog sit Titus while Bruce and Damian are out of town. Involving some deep seated issues, unintended animal therapy, snarky text messages between robins and eventually, some reconciliation between father and son.

Takes place in a murky in between time sometime after Damian was resurrected.

A NOTE: These are very rough drafts, I’m copy and pasting from my google doc, I switch tense all over the place, so apologies, but I want to share.

Part 1

___________________________________________________________________

He dreamed that night.

It wasn’t unusual, he had them at least a couple times a week, sometimes more, depending on different factors, what cases he was working, what kind of crap he ran into on patrol, and whatever damn lottery his brain was playing that night.

The downside: They were never good.

Sometimes they started out that way. Completely innocuous.

He was in a grocery store, and he was looking for something he couldn’t find but he couldn’t remember the name of it, or what it was. And he was walking down aisle after aisle of endless produce and there was a puddle on the floor, one of those yellow caution signs set up next to it, a janitor turned away from him, mopping, whistling as he went and it was far away, a long ways down the aisle but Jason recognized the tune. He knew the song but again he couldn’t place it. But it kept getting louder and the closer Jason got the less it sounded like music and the more it sounded like - like laughing.

Jason was shivering, it was suddenly freezing and when he looked down his clothes were all torn up and he - he was bleeding.

Suddenly he realized the shelves weren’t full of produce at all, they were packed full of bombs and the next step he tried  to take he tripped, his ankles were tied together. He fell on his face, right in that puddle on the floor and it wasn’t water, it was blood and the janitor was gone but that sound - the laughing, it was so loud, and it was everywhere, and he heard this awful scraping noise in the distance, something thin and metal dragging on the floor and Jason couldn’t breathe.

He tried to push himself up but his wrists were tied behind his back and everything hurt, it all hurt so much. The scraping on the floor got louder, closer, he heard footsteps, and the laughing stopped echoing all around him because it was clearly getting closer too. “Robin, kid, you’re really falling down on the job tonight.” And that awful laugh, that stifled giggle. “I really think you can do better.”

He felt the tip of the crowbar graze his side, just enough to make him shudder.

He was face down in a puddle of blood and Jason couldn’t breathe, he couldn't breathe, he couldn’t breathe-

He came to like a dying fish, gasping and choking on nothing, sitting bolt upright in bed with a cut off scream. His chest felt like iron, like no matter how hard he tried his lungs wouldn’t expand, they wouldn’t take in the air around him.

Jason threw the blankets off, feeling hot and cold all at once, and shoved his face between his knees, trying in vain to slow his breathing because there was nausea crawling up his throat and - and, shit- he managed to make it to the garbage can in the corner before he lost what little he ate for dinner. But like other times, at least, the vomiting felt like a relief. The coughing and gagging that followed were no fun, along with the racing heart and shaking hands. He spit into the can a few times, his teeth chattering together.

It felt like there were ants under his skin, just looking for a way out. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he managed to stumble to the doorway, stepping over the mess of stuff that had spilled out of the box at the foot of his bed, and flicking on the light. It burned his eyes but it at least gave him something to look at outside of the visions clouding up his head.

He still felt the sharp point of the crowbar dragging up the side of his ribs and his stomach gave another awful squeeze that had him rushing to the bathroom just to dry heave in the sink. Turning the tap on and splashing his face with water helped just a little but his mouth tasted sour and his stomach was still knotting up inside him.

Grabbing his toothbrush off the counter he nearly dropped it while running it under the water his hands were shaking so much. He could hear the awful stupid voice in the back of his head even over the stifled groan he let out when his stomach heaved again. He applied way too much tooth paste to the brush and jammed it in his mouth, barely managing not to fall down when he sat on the edge of the tub.

His ribs ached and his knees and shins and his head felt like it was gonna split open. He knew it was a phantom pain maybe because he’d been close to hyperventilating for a good few minutes at that point and he was having some kind of premature brain death from low oxygen but the knowledge very rarely helped. Instead he sat there in the blindingly bright bathroom with his eyes squeezed shut, scrubbing jerkily over his teeth and tongue trying to wash out the sour taste of stomach acid. Trying to scrub out the echoing laughs in his head, the sound of the crowbar dragging across concrete, the muffled thud of it against flesh and bone.

Of all his nightmares, the ones of the joker were always the loudest.

Sometimes he’d talk out loud to himself, or hum, just to try to drown it out but that just ended up making him feel crazier. He brushed his teeth for a long time, concentrating on the sound of the bristles against his gums, long enough that his mouth was just full of foam and there was blood mixing in with it, and then he’d forced himself to stand and spit in the sink. He splashed water over his face and just stood there for a minute, staring down into the drain and watching drops fall from the tap, gripping the edge of the sink with white knuckles, trying to support his weight with his arms cause his knees were shaking something fierce, listening to his own labored breathing.

Amazingly enough Jason Todd did not have cable, and his internet was spotty. It was annoying but the bunker he’d set up for Red Hood had better internet than you could buy plus access to the cave computer and when he moved into his place he reasoned that’s all he really used it for. He didn’t have money to burn and the apartment didn’t come with cable. But on nights like this, when the skeletons in his closet were rattling around like percussion instruments he really wished he could turn on the tv and listen to some bullshit telenovelas or cartoons or reruns of Titanic or he really didn’t freaking care.

He could read a book, that’s what he usually did, but after Joker dreams, sometimes it just - wasn’t enough. There were little tricks, little things he’d learned that helped and he went through the list in his head as he finally wrenched himself away from the bathroom sink, when it no longer felt like the bottom of his stomach was trying to climb up his throat.

There was a lighter on his nightstand next to a heavily scented candle that he lit with shaking hands, nearly burned himself before he set it down to the side and breathed in the biting scent of pine. There was a half empty carton of cigarettes stashed under his bed but he’d been trying to quit and he saved them for when things were really bad.

The trash can in the corner was a problem, one he’d rather not address right then but didn’t want to leave overnight because disgusting and so he took a spare moment to rinse some water in it and dump the contents in the toilet. He splashed some bleach in it and filled it the rest of the way with water and left it soaking in the bathtub.

Music was the next step, he didn’t remember where he tossed his cell phone when he came in and he had to stalk around the apartment before he found it sitting on the kitchen counter just inside the front door, unplugged and with a dead battery. He stared at the screen with an unexpected twist in his chest. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Abruptly, even though he’d woken without tears, just the pounding of his chest and head, he felt like he was going to start crying immediately and he sucked in a deep, noisy breath before making a point of plugging in his damn phone and going back to his room where the smell of the candle was enough to at least put him more in the present. It was the music that helped with the Joker dreams the most though and without it Jason was left feeling jittery and anxious in a way that only seemed to be getting worse the longer he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his bookshelves trying to decide which one would be the winner for the night.

His knee was bouncing enough he’d probably wake up his downstairs neighbor before something occurred to him. The smashed up box at the foot of his bed was still just where it was when he’d demolished it on his way in. The thought of it made a different anxiety twist in his stomach.

The box was from Alfred. Sort of. The box was full of Jason’s things so he wasn’t sure if it was really from anyone except that one day after patrol when Jason had been high on pain meds, half lying down on a medical cot in the cave with Alfred working on his stitches he’d admitted he missed some of his old stuff, his books, his CD’s, some video games. The conversation wasn’t meant to go anywhere and Jason had no idea why he said anything but Alfred had told him he was free to take whatever he wanted from his old room - it was still his, after all. But the very idea of going back in there made his skin crawl.

He’d heard from Dick that it hadn’t much changed since he died and that kind of made it worse. Jason didn’t want to step back in time, no thanks. The idea that Bruce had turned it into some kind of museum to before he had died did weird things to his insides and he’d told Alfred as much. He didn’t think he could stomach it.

Alfred had left it at that, didn’t push him to keep talking about it or try to tell him he should try anyway, like Dick probably would have. Jason always appreciated that about Alf.

Instead, about a week later Alfred had shown up at his apartment with a weeks worth of meals and a box of things he’d thought Jason might want. It was a nice gesture and Jason had appreciated it but he’d found, despite his earlier musings, that he held the same sort of apprehension to the box as he did to his old room. Everything inside it was part of his old life and most of the time it all just felt - untouchable.

He didn’t know why exactly, just that his years at the manor felt like some weird mix of dream and nightmare he could never quite suss out.

But now, with the Joker’s laughter ringing in his ears he thought it might be the lesser of two evils and he hoped to anyone listening that Alfie packed his old MP3 player.

Jason slid down across his rumpled bed and slipped over the frame, nearly tripped over the crushed box at his feet but fumbled around it until he could sit cross legged on the floor in front of it. He didn’t know where to start exactly, but he decided the best option was getting the MP3 player first. So, he dug in, pulling out old sweatshirts, a couple knit scarves, an old throw blanket. The soft things were all wrapped around the more fragile ones.

Underneath his old clothes and the blanket he finds a stack of CD’s, too bad he doesn’t have a CD player anywhere...There’s a stack of notebooks, a larger stack of book books, an old baseball, and there, the headphones wrapped neatly around it, is his MP3 player. An old iPod shuffle Bruce had gotten him more because it was something other kids had than that he’d known Jason wanted one.

What he was counting on, was good old Alfie, because while the charger for the device was neatly wound up next to it, it had been literal years since Jason had touched the thing and the idea that it might have any battery left was absurd unless Alfred had gone to the trouble of charging it before packing it away for him. With still shaking hands he unwound the headphones rapidly and shove them in his ears, pressing the home button and just praying for some kind of miracle.

“Bless you Alfred.” Jason whispered out over the heavy beat of hip hop music he didn’t ever remember downloading. He took a moment to breathe, sucking in the smell of wintergreen and letting the music drown out the noise in his head. The rest of the contents still sat there in stacks, pushed to the side of the torn open cardboard or still organized neatly inside it.

This was as far as he’d gotten in a month and Jason decided to just bite the bullet and get it over with. He reached for the first thing that caught his attention and pulled out a framed photo of Bruce and Jason at a baseball game. The same one, if Jason remembered correctly, that he’d gotten the ball in the box from. Bruce stood behind Jason, a hand on his shoulder, a half crooked smile on his face that meant it was real, while Jason at 13 years old stood in front of him, grinning from ear to ear with a mit and a baseball held up in his right hand.

He doesn’t remember who took the photo, it must have been some random person at the game, but he remembered being breathless and excited about going, that he’d never been to one before. He remembered telling Bruce that the closest he’d ever gotten was scalping tickets outside the doors of a hockey rink once and being chased off by a security guard. Bruce had gotten a weird look on his face that Jason never knew how to take before he clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed in a way that always made Jason feel weirdly warm in the chest.

“We’ll go to a hockey game next.” He had said. And Jason had been beyond excited.

He swallowed convulsively at the twist in his stomach and set the photo to the side. He wasn’t sure he wanted it anymore. Thinking about the good times with Bruce was always bitter sweet to him now.

Usually more bitter than sweet. The phantom image of a Robin uniform always coming to mind, filled out by some other kid, standing tall and smug. Jason shook his head. He’d decide later.

Next was an old backpack, still filled with his school books. He rifled through one, finding a doodle of a bow an arrow in the corner of one of the pages, a note scribbled underneath he couldn’t actually parse. There were pages of math homework, old assignments with marks ups from his teachers, little notes in red pen.

‘Good work’

‘Nice word choice’

‘Correct formula but you made a common mistake, see me after class and I can explain it better.’

Absently he wondered why Alfred had given him his old school stuff. Not like he had any use for it now and reading through it felt like going through some other kids stuff. It did give him a weird pang of regret. Because Jason had liked school. He’d thrived despite little shitheads in a rich school who thought he didn’t belong there and some teachers alike. Jason felt a weird sort of disgrace at never having graduated High School. Hell, he’d barely started. He stashed everything back inside the bag and set it to the side. He probably wouldn’t get rid of it, thought he wasn’t sure why.

The stack of books was probably what he’d missed the most and he pulled the top most copy off and flipped it open. Jason had a pretty large stash of books at this point, and he had replaced nearly, if not all the novels he’d had in the manor when he was younger already. But it wasn’t the books themselves exactly that he missed.

When Jason had moved into the manor the idea of having books of his own to return to had been a new and glorious thing. On the street, when you needed to keep something for yourself you found a way to mark it, or make it so other people didn’t want it. He’d half ruined most things he’d snatched from stores just so they wouldn’t bother wanting them back if he got caught.

Before his mom had died he’d had access to the Library, which was great, but it meant that none of the books were his and he’d had to keep them nice and neat if he wanted to be able to keep checking them out. It hadn’t been all that easy either, with a drug addicted mother and a lowlife dad who was always bringing other lowlifes around. He’d ended up stashing them under his bed anytime he wasn’t reading them.

The books in the manor were different. They had a library, which Jason treated as such, but Bruce had also expressed that Jason could have his own books. Ones he got to keep in his room that he wasn’t required to return to anyone else or share. He could even make notes in them if he wanted, highlight whatever text interested him or that he wanted to return to.

The idea of marking them up in anyway had horrified Jason when Bruce had made the suggestion, but he liked part of the idea. It made reading feel more like he was an active participant, like he could go back and forth with the characters, like he was involved in the story.

He’d never taken a pen to a book, but what he had done was fill all of his favorites with sticky notes.

Jason still did it sometimes, though he didn’t read as much as he used to as a kid when he was only patrolling on the weekends and just had school to think about. He flipped through the first few pages of Frakenstein, one of his favorites, perusing his own messy handwriting on bright pink paper, faded with age. Again though, the nostalgia twisted hard in his stomach. He was glad to have them back, thought he might actually read through them someday, but what had been something he missed...felt a lot like something he could still never have, now that he was holding it in his hands.

There were all these mixed up, tangled feelings twisted around Jason’s childhood. Sometimes when he was high on pain meds, or drunk maybe, it softened the edges enough to make all this seem like a good idea. But harshly sober and coming down off a nightmare….they just felt kind of like a sad joke.

Like looking at the props from a movie you used to think was real life.

“Whatever.” He mumbled to himself as he grabbed a pile of the books and stacked them back up in a haphazard pile. His bookshelves were neatly organized, lining his bedroom walls on three sides. He made sure to leave room for more, and the second bedroom still had blank walls he’d thought about repurposing for just such an occasion that he ran out. Normally things were organized by genre, then author, then title. But this particular collection he would keep together. He shelved them all on the lowest empty shelf near the floor, next to his dresser.

The picture frame he stuck face down in the drawer of his nightstand to think about later, the baseball, and the mit he dug out to match, he left sitting on his dresser. The couple sweatshirts smelled like fresh laundry, which wasn’t surprising, so he didn’t bother washing them, just hung them up in the very back of his closet. They’d never fit him now, and just looking at them when he tucked the arms of the hanger through the neck hole nearly had him reeling at how tiny he used to be.

His notebooks he didn’t even open, remembering clearly enough the awful drawings he used to make and his own amateur attempts at writing. Journaling had initially been a suggestion from Bruce, back when Jason had frequent outbursts of temper and never wanted to talk about it afterwards. Bruce wasn’t exactly a shining example of talking out your issues, so the journaling had probably been a nice cop out for him, but he still occasionally did some.

The throw blanket, Jason realized when he picked it up, was the same one that Alfred had knitted him for his first Christmas at the manor and that did get him a little choked up. It was red, and a little faded, the color clashed pretty badly with his bedspread if he was being honest but he didn’t care. He took the time to make up his blankets and folded the throw neatly at the end of his bed. Then he settled himself back on the floor in front of the nearly empty box.

There wasn’t much else he expected to find in it. It was large enough that Alfred had managed to fit his old skateboard, which Jason chuckled to see. Despite his skills as robin he had never gotten very good with the thing. He left it leaned up against his bedroom wall behind the door and went in for the last item, sitting neatly at the base of the box. It was wrapped in brown parchment paper and tied in twine, about the size and shape of a book if Jason had to guess, and a badly wrinkled card was tucked underneath the string.

Jason assumed at first that it was a gift from Alfred, stashed at the bottom of the box as some sort of surprise but the obviously crumpled and reflattened card couldn’t have been the butler. So Jason slipped out the card, a nice stock with a simple picture on the front of a sailboat that looked oddly familiar to him.

Upon opening the card he was momentarily confused. There was obviously a decent amount of text written out at one point, but it had all been scribbled out pretty damn thoroughly, he squinted at it for a moment, trying to make out the words as a slow dawning unease settled on his shoulders. He couldn’t quite make out the words but somehow the handwriting still looked familiar, a messy but somehow still graceful looping cursive that could only be Bruce’s.

Jason swallowed roughly, eyes scanning the card over again and then peering into the box like it might now suddenly contain a poisonous snake. It didn’t make sense.

That there was possibly a….gift stashed somewhere in his room from Bruce that he had never known about didn’t make any sense. And the idea that Bruce would have for some reason gotten him a gift since he was out of the manor and asked Alfred to deliver it made even less. Unless it was something related to their vigilante lives maybe. Maybe it was useful to Red Hood somehow and the scribbled out card was code for something.

But something told him it wasn’t. Bruce was ridiculous and paranoid and overly dramatic at the best of times but a secret message disguised as an old gift instead of making a phone call or telling him in person on one of the not infrequent times they might run into each other on patrol made little to no sense. And the gift did seem old he realized.

Reaching in and picking it up out of the box he found the brown paper covered in a layer of dust, brushed off in a pattern that could only have been someone’s hands moving it to begin with. The twine was brittle and snapped at the knot with a very light tug.

There was a feeling Jason sometimes got, like he was swimming in the ocean and he could sense some huge and dangerous coming up beneath him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. In general it didn’t usually represent (wrong word) anything positive but he was already waist deep in this whole thing and that feeling didn’t tend to leave him until the cause was addressed. So he took a single deep breath and tore the paper off, trying to brace himself for any possibility.

However, when the paper came off he was left with a complete absence of any reaction. He hadn’t known what to expect but somehow what he found was still entirely unexpected.

It was two items, stacked neatly one on top of the other. One, which was, upon retrospect, predictably a book. A hardcover copy of Pride and Prejudice, with a swirling and beautifully designed cover in deep navy blue, overlaid with gold.

On top of that was a slim DVD case with a photo of Kira Knightly looking artfully to the side with a blurry Matthew Mcfadyen in the background.

“What the hell.”

Jason yanked the headphones out of his ears, suddenly feeling the need for the quiet to digest whatever the heck he as seeing. He grabbed up the crumpled card again and opened it flat, smoothing it out on top of the book and squinting in concentration at the scribbled lines of pen. If Bruce wasn’t a pretentious asshole who always wrote in cursive he thought he may have been able to make it out but as it was the only thing that wasn’t in cursive was a cluster of numbers in the upper right hand side of the card that had only been partially scribbled out. He should have noticed them immediately but he had been more intrigued by what he was apparently not supposed to see.

The numbers though, they were clearly a date. A date that Jason stared at with a numbness in his bones while his brain calculated where he was and what he was doing when it was written. It was dated nearly a year ago. Right around the time that….that the two of them had talked. That Jason had agreed to play by Bruce’s rules.

“What….the hell.” Jason repeated to himself. His voice strangled and clipped. Dropping the card he suddenly flipped the book open, flipping the pages in a fan and looking for something more, turning the book face down and shaking out the pages hoping for some other information. Nothing.

He cracked open the DVD case next, popping the disc out and the little leaflet of information thinking there had to be some kind of hidden message somewhere.

“This is such bullshit.” He whispered to himself, incredulous and weirdly lost.

A strangely frantic idea was occurring to him and he picked up the card again, stumbling to his feet and going for one of the notebooks he’d stashed in his closet. He took the one on top and tore out the first blank page he came to and then spent ten minutes digging around for a pencil, ending up with the single sheet of notebook paper and the card, standing in his boxers and a t-shirt in his kitchen. The card he laid out on the countertop, putting the notebook paper on top of it. He angled the pencil carefully and began brushing gentle strokes across the paper.

It was an old hat trick Jason used to read about in ancient detective novels like it was some genius level trick, it would create a negative image of whatever had been written on the page before it was scribbled out, provided the original script was written with enough pressure. Bruce tended to have a heavy hand so he thought it’d be enough but the way the card was crumpled up made it a special challenge, leaving other divots and lines through the text.

When he was done he stared at the sheet of paper with a scrutinizing gaze.

“Damnit.” It looked like scribbles, which was exactly what it was, but maybe a tiny bit more like actual words than before. He studied it, trying to make out the individual first and last letter of each word.

The first word was clearly his name, he took the pencil and carefully wrote out “Jason” below the scribbles.

The first line he could make out sparing words from. He went through the note methodically, writing down words he could make out, leaving a line on the page for each word he couldn’t, carefully counting each word until he was at the bottom of the card and his hands were shaking again, worse than when he’d woken up from the dream.

He stared at what he had, trying to make heads or tales of it.

Jason,

I know ___ ___ ___ this book, ___ ____ ____ more ____ ___ copy. I think I remember ____ ____ me at some ____ ____ I ______ you of Mr. Darcy. ________ I was ______ and _____ _____ if my ______ ______ right.

Maybe you’ve ____ the _____ _______ too, ____ for me to say. It’s ____ a _____ _____ ____ talked _____ books and movies. But I saw this pair _____ sold ________ in a classics __________ at the ______ Bookstore in Gotham and I _______ of you. ____ _______ you might _____ it, ___ a good _________ of the book, if ___ _______. _____ __ _____ watch it ________ and _______ notes.

I miss you.

The vast majority of it didn’t make much sense beyond being clearly about the story and probably not some hidden message, but Jason didn’t care a whole lot.

Instead he stared at those last three words, feeling a tremor run up his spine. He dropped the paper on the counter like it burned him and took a step back, swallowing convulsively. His eyes were burning and his chest felt tight and this was not the bullshit he’d been expecting in that damn box.

“Fucking Alfred.” Jason scooped up the crumpled card and the sheet of paper and stomped back into his bedroom, grabbing the book and the movie and dumping it all in the bottom drawer of his dresser with old electronics and chargers he wasn’t sure went to what to be forgotten about. The drawer slammed closed and he stood there breathing like a freight train for a split second before he went back to the foot of his bed where he tore the empty box until it was flat and recyclable, he stashed it under his sink and he fumed.

Glancing at the clock on his microwave told him it was nearing 5am, meaning he’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep and that the the sun would be coming up in a couple hours. He stomped around his kitchen, dragging out coffee beans and milk and generally making as much noise as possible while making coffee just hoping his downstairs neighbor would come pounding on the door so he could scream in someone’s face.

“Fucking Alfred.” He hissed again, feeling utterly unsteady and hollow. Like someone had scooped out his insides with a spoon. It was such a bullshit move.

Jason wasn’t an idiot. No way Bruce knew that was in Alfred’s little care package. Bruce had probably forgotten the thing existed, had probably thought it had all been thrown away. He’d clearly meant to dispose of the card, probably had, and Alfred had rescued it from the trash and kept it on hand, just waiting to leave it like a bomb for Jason to find. Probably hoped it would open his eyes.

Make him see the light.

Jason was not going to be manipulated by some shitty card that Bruce had thrown in the trash rather than actually give him. And what kind of bullshit was that? Bruce thought he could give him some crappy copy of a book and a movie with a casual little note and things would be good?

He was insane. Bruce was insane and Jason had known it for years.

Jason was shaking his head, pulling a mug out of the cupboard for the coffee and setting it down harder than he needed to. What had he even been thinking? What? That if he gave Jason a present he’d just forget about all the other shit?

Oh, except that he didn’t give him the gift. Instead he threw away the card and put the gift somewhere it was gathering dust for the past year.

There were dishes in the sink from his dinner and he went about washing them by hand instead of using the dishwasher, needing to move, needing something to occupy his hands.

Needed something to work out his aggression on so he could keep hold of the anger in his chest.

*

*

*

He’d bought Jason a gift.

He leaned against the counter sink, gripping the edge hard and feeling the sharp edges of his indignation stuttering and losing their shape. He tried to grab onto it, hold it in place like the shield it was.

But - Jesus he doesn’t really know what to think of it. So Bruce bought it for him, and then what? Couldn’t bring himself to actually give it to him? His stomach twists in knots over it. He remembers meeting up with Bruce, sharing burgers on the hood of the batmobile and agreeing to work by Bruce’s rules.

He remembers he’d been in a good mood that day, that he’d felt more exasperated and amused by the request/demand than he would otherwise normally be. He remembers Bruce being blank and awkward and the good feelings slowly draining. Remembered Bruce cutting the meeting short and making some excuse for it and leaving Jason with that same souring bitterness he always ended up with with Bruce.

He hadn’t gone back on the agreement, he wasn’t really sure why exactly. Except that maybe...maybe him asking meant he didn’t believe Jason was some kind of lost cause.

Not that Jason cared, he had nothing to prove, not to Bruce.

But sometimes there were reasons to prove things to yourself and Jason wasn’t sure he had yet.

It didn’t matter. For now he wasn’t killing anyone and he was on the Bat’s good side. It didn’t explain the movie. There was a date on the card but for the life him Jason can’t remember exactly when they had their chat at the Batmobile. It was....around that time, but was it before or after? He can’t remember, and for some reason that really bugs him.

He doesn’t want to think about this stupid shit.

But Bruce had thought about him apparently. He….he missed him.

It was ridiculous. It wasn’t true.

Jason had to resist the urge to go dig that stupid card out of his dresser and try to parse out the words again.

“God damnit!” He slammed his hands against the edge of the sink.

He wasn’t supposed to care about this crap anymore. He didn’t. He didn’t care.

Jason didn’t care and he was going to stop thinking about it.

…..God he was going to need a shit ton of coffee to make it through the day.

[kierarutherford]

I know you have a few published works and a ton of stuff on AO3... how did you get started on your writing, and are there any tips you would give to someone that was interested in pursuing that?

Thank you so much for the question! Wow, alright so I actually started in fanfic when I was about 16 (eek aging myself). I played a video game called Knights of the Old Republic and I was mad. So mad. I wanted a more in-depth romance between the main character and Carth Onasi. A grizzled military man, disillusioned with life. Eager to seek revenge and save the galaxy. ALSO voiced by pure sex Raphael Sbarge. Known best for his more modern role In Mass Effect as Kaidan Alenko. *Ahem* loved him too. 

So I sat at my little shitty computer, in my bedroom and I re-wrote the whole damn thing. I was so proud of myself, I printed it all out, punched holes in it and put it in a binder. (I STILL have it!) 

For years, I wanted to write creative stories but life wasn’t entirely kind in that regards and I ended up in a shitty relationship. Which is when I died. Literally. After some recovery, I found strength in my favorite series: Dragon Age and Mass Effect. 

Inquisition came out, and OMG Cullen!!! I couldn’t get enough of him. Seriously, obsessed! So much so I wanted to change things again. I wanted an Inquisitor that didn’t follow the lines, didn’t stick to a repeat process (I’d beaten the game roughly 30 times before I got to this point.) Then, I stumbled upon fanfics when I was googling Cullen related things. I was instantly like, “shit, I can do this! It’s not some weird closet stuff?” (ahem, again I’m 32... ) so I sat at my much better computer and I applied to AO3, and set up a tumblr. 

I started with Kiera Lavellan. Her story, which to be fair wasn’t as well thought out as I had hoped. I needed someone different to play with and I toyed with AU’s until I fleshed out Diana Trevelyan. She was my fire cracker where Kiera was a logical girl, an elf who wanted to be human. Because, why not? 

I read and read and read until I ran into an incident. I wrote a piece because I had seen SO many three some ideas that I wanted to make one. So I thought about an idea that made sense to me and wrote it. Some time after someone claimed I ripped off their idea. It was a horrifying event and I nearly quit. I took about a month off, and got angry. Clicked open a new doc and wrote. It flowed like fire from my fingers and I stopped reading other people’s stuff. I felt horrible not being able to share in people’s amazing work. But over time I realized one MAJOR thing: there are no original ideas. Only original styles and twists. We’ve all written “the coffee shop” or “a hallmark movie” type event, but our words, our style and characters make it unique. 

I read rarely now, I guess a part of me is still terrified. But I have some little mental things when I write. For one, I am mindful not to start off sentences with the same word repeatedly. IE: He, she, they, I. I try not to use the same descriptor in a row i.e, “They walked through the woods. Taking a path less walked upon.” Walked and walked sound strange like that so I do: “They walked through the woods, taking the path less worn by travelers.”

Other than that, I am still learning. I think writing is always about learning, and developing your style. Read your work back, out loud, word for word. Does it flow? Would you speak like that? Does it sound strange? Is there a better way to put that? Then, I post. For original content, I do a rough draft and walk away, sometimes for several months. I have a friend I verbally read it to, and we discuss. From there I’ll edit again and leave it to sit. Repeat above and then publish. It’s not easy, but I find it very rewarding. 

Thanks again for the questions I hope that answered them. My BIGGEST tip: Write. Even if you think it’s absolute garbage, write. You will never improve if you never do it. 

Cheers!  

[myrhymesarepurer]

The Un-Understandable Peace

Summary FMAB, Post-Promised Day

It was understandable.

It was understandable that every one of the team’s flats out in the desert of Ishval were next to each other. Same block, same building, same floor, quite literally the next door over. It was all understandable until he knocked.  “Hawkeye. Why is there a door in the middle of my living room?” 

Pairing  Royai Words 3,012 Rating K

a/n  a clinic. on how many time the words ‘reasonable,’ ‘certainly,’ ‘simply’ and ‘understandable’ can be used in one drabble. also, a mini break fic. Four coming soon, loves.  Enjoy. 

ao3 ffn

It was understandable.

It was understandable that every one of the team’s flats out in the desert of Ishval were next to each other. Same block, same building, same floor, quite literally the next door over.

It was certainly not ideal, she knew. Riza Hawkeye valued her solitude, her space.

But, it was understandable.

Understandable due to the fact that the remains of the biggest town of the Ishval prefecture mostly consisted of little houses and little shacks lined into messy little neighborhoods. There were no apartments nor any houses suitable to rent, much less buy.  

There just wasn’t much real estate. So, the military had one built, a dorm,

a dorm for the handful of military officers working in the thick of the sand and sun. Somewhere to stay while they reported for duty, pushed their pencils and oversaw the resurrection of stable life in Ishval from the scorching discomfort of an old little school located in the heart of the biggest little city.

It certainly wasn’t anything fancy, understandably so.

One bedroom that included the kitchen,  one bath, and one modest closet all within walls made of smooth sandstone. Assuredly none of the oo’s of ah’s of shiny new city buildings made on a hefty private sector budget only miles away from major suppliers.

But, it was certainly functional and certainly understandable, that her new next door neighbors were the same people she spent every waking moment of the working day with.

Riza hummed at the thought. No, it wasn’t ideal at all.

But, it was understandable. It was all understandable until,

there was a knock on the door.  

Riza wiped the sweat off her forehead, peeled off her military jacket,  and cut open another box, fighting through the heat to unpack the very day she moved in.

That way she could be past it. That way she could be home.

Riza scrunched her nose knowing not even her meager flat in East City, much less her flat in Central, were even close to reaching  such a status of comfort.

She was never quite sure what was missing. Black Hayate, she knew, had helped some.

But, Riza found that the rooms to which she returned simply to sleep after hours at the office, she could collectively call them her house, her flat, yes, but never her home.

It was a terribly cheesy sentiment, and dealing with such thoughts was not at all Riza’s strong suit. Yet, so thankfully, it was interrupted by the knock, the knock on the door.

Riza flipped her lock and opened it to the hall, yet in front of her stood absolutely no one at all.

Then there was the voice behind her, muffled, yet strikingly familiar.

“Wrong door, Captain.”

Riza then glanced over her shoulder to find another door that surely had no reason not to be noticed.

Yet, it was understandable that she hadn’t for Riza was certainly not looking for a door in the middle of the shared wall of her new apartment, much less expected to see one. So, she was understandably surprised to flip open a different lock curiously not attached to her front door, turn the knob and reveal General Roy Mustang on the other side.

“Hawkeye,” he said her name carefully.

“Why is there a door in the middle of my living room?”

Technically, she thought, it was also in the middle of his bedroom, of his kitchen, of his entire apartment, a door opening straight into her own.

Riza blinked then surveyed the doorpost, for the existence of a door where this door currently stood, was certainly not understandable at all.

“I have not the slightest clue, General,”

Riza took pause, then hummed in diligent thought, “Would it be possible that every apartment has one, Sir?”

She, of course, could not think as to why one tenant would need direct access to another to the extent that it became a feature through out the complex as a whole. 

Riza tilted her head in disregard for that un-understandability, and thought the door might be a blessing in cases of break-in or emergency. If she suspected some dangerous something, she could get to the General very quickly, provided they kept the door unlocked or obtained a key of some kind.

Solely for safety, of course. That would be understandable.

But, Roy watched her think and swallowed tightly. No, he knew. “Possibly,” he still said,

“Possibly, but probably not, no,”

One quick sly check into Havoc’s room across the hall confirmed Roy’s theory. He pointedly brought up the subject the following day during his telephone call with the Fuhrer. Within the updates and what not, he slipped in his query, assuming the Fuhrer had, indeed, glanced at the blueprint at least once, 

or perhaps, more than once.  

Roy was, indeed, correct.

“Solely for safety, of course,” Grumman said.

“Ah, I see” Roy said surely, hiding just a speck of skepticism, knowing, of course, that justifying the door with his safety was reasonable, prudent even, to be sure.  

“You are bound to have some enemies out there, Roy. I imagined your Captain would appreciate the ability to reach you in a moments notice.”

Roy nodded, scratching his head, the doubt understandably persistent.

It could have simply been true that the Fuhrer of Amestris chose to oversee, yes, an excessively minuet detail, in the name of protecting the leader of his forces out East, the security of the beginnings of the Reconstruction of Ishval.

However,

Though the Fuhrer he may be now, Roy’s mentor he had always been,

the same mentor that had forever been quite dead set on hooking him up with his granddaughter, more or less for life.

Regardless of intention, the reality remained: that very granddaughter was now his next door neighbor, living in the apartment directly on the other side of this spontaneous special order of a doorway leading straight from his bedroom to hers.

It simply seemed entirely too convenient.

Of course, not to suggest Fuhrer Grumman was encouraging any inappropriate, much less any illegal behavior, but Roy still ruminated on how thoroughly he did enjoy any occasion Riza visited his previous flats for some overtime work, regardless of how much paperwork she had in tow. 

Having her closer was always a luxury, yet, understandably, did not come free of risk.  

“That’s very considerate of you, Sir. Thank you,” Roy responded graciously, yet sighed understandably so.

“However, if anyone is to see the door and question the purity of its purpose-“

“Tell them they can telephone my secretary for an appointment, my boy, “Grumman grinned “Though, I may have conflicts on that day.” 

And, that seemed to be that.

The door connecting their apartments was for his own safety, as verified by the Fuhrer himself, and that was understandable.  

It would just stay closed, unlocked, but closed,

in case of emergency, solely for safety, of course.

Of course.

But, of course, either fortunately or unfortunately so, the door certainly did not stay that way, closed not at all.

And here and now, Riza Hawkeye, stepping out of a shower that was not her own, wondered how, why, and when she had so un-understandably crossed this line.

The shower in her apartment had been broken all week. So, it was certainly reasonable she used his.

He had then requested her assistance, as she was already there,

in reviewing his rough draft of the procedure proposal for the establishment of an education department in the Ishvalan state.

It was due at Central in two weeks and was, by far, their biggest project yet, so it was certainly understandable she lend her aid, encourage his most new found lack of procrastination.

It was all very reasonable, Riza thought, understandably so.

Yet, it wasn’t the logic that troubled her, no.

It was the truth that once she left the little bathroom and its veil of steam, he would read through his proposal aloud. She would ensure the document’s clarity, verify its eloquence, and do so all while terribly exposed in her deteriorating discipline.

Riza paced the patch of carpet in front of his bed, biting her thumb nail in concentration, like she only ever had in private, dressed so comfortably in her little pajama set, its debut appearance to an audience outside of the pup sleeping in the corner.

She dried her hair with his spare towel, washed her face, brushed her teeth, even smoothed on a layer of moisturizer,  

all while claiming to be working, all while in front of her superior.

She simply didn’t seem to care, Riza struggled, it was as if she were-

She stumbled on the word,

home.

Riza swallowed thickly, shook her head, caught up with Roy’s voice and focused on the logic.

The logic was no issue, no.

They never seemed ever free of deadlines to meet, reports to author, developments, construction, all to oversee.

This, of course, was the work they had been waiting for, and they threw themselves so very willingly into the fire.

It was exhausting, she could admit.

Yet, the General persistently accepted, even encouraged, her requests for overtime. Her productive little heart was spoiled to the uttermost by his compliance, of course, under one condition; they burn the midnight oil in the most comfortable fashion.

They did, in fact, have that door.  Roy had shrugged, feigning nonchalance at the time. They could put it to good use. Quite reasonable, indeed.  

So, comfortable they were, and perhaps too comfortable she became.

For there was one particularly long night after one particularly arduous day she most understandably, yet still foolishly drifted off at the foot of his bed, expense reports, half finished, in hand.

Of course, Roy picked her up, tucked her under his covers and let her sleep there in his room under the pretense that the shorter distance was less likely to wake her from her much needed slumber.

It was, Riza was reluctant to admit, the best night of sleep she had ever gotten in that desert.

She woke up to a mop of black hair on the pillow next to her. Her stomach washed so un-understandably warm,

and Riza supposed that’s the moment, pinpointed it as the culprit, when she most shamefully began to falter, began to be baffled by her own behavior.

She so wished to blame it on the heat, on the blazing desert sun, but she knew there was a piece of her that melted after they all settled down in Ishval.

Yes, this piece had dwindled, but only because she had been so wonderfully warm, so very blissfully often.  

It was a curious feeling that accompanied the new door, it seemed. Gone were her defenses, a gooey puddle was left of her resolve.

Riza worried over her lip, at least for a moment every night.

It was so sloppy, so foolish, so very uncharacteristic,

so very dangerous

It wasn’t illegal, no, this company that they kept.

But, neither did say a word about the imprudence of the thing, nor what precisely might their excuse be were they to get caught so perilously familiar with one another, consistently returning to such a place together.

Because, in no matter of time at all, Riza was working long nights most every night, fell asleep in his room most all the time, and soon enough

a toothbrush joined his at his sink, for convenience a set of spare pajamas lay tucked away in the second drawer, just in case, and her suite, only one door apart, was left clean and nearly wholly untouched.

For, by chance, she had allowed herself this place, this comfort, this sanctuary

after she, for so long, never allowed herself nearly anything at all. The chance. The reason why she returned.  It was something she most certainly did not understand.

Perhaps, she might snap out of it. Oh, yes, she so hoped she might snap out of it, and soon.

Roy had stopped reading. Riza stopped pacing.

For a moment, she felt maybe he was reading her mind. If he was, she willed him to keep his opinions to himself, for his endorsement for the continuation of the generous amount of time she spent in his flat was, firstly, already thoroughly voiced, secondly, not helpful to her

in any capacity, whatsoever.

Then Riza blinked and felt the lazy fan on her legs, and realized Roy had taken pause, not to read her mind but to admire her shorts.

It had gotten too hot. They lived in the desert. She had chosen the shorts. It was reasonable, understandable.

yet so terribly terribly unwise.

Roy had looked up at her, just once, from his place on the bed, lounging against the headboard, and well-

He never had the pleasure of seeing Riza’s legs nearly at all, much less like that.

Riza froze, most probably from her lack of clothing. She clutched the bridge of her nose,

“Is this going to be a problem, Sir?”

“Hm?”

His eyes met hers, though they certainly took their time.

“Should I return to my suite?”

Some small piece of her hoped he’d say yes. She felt she needed it to be an order.

Otherwise, she feared she might never leave, being so very delightfully, wonderfully toasty this way.  

That pesky feeling, unidentifiable. It was so very unreasonable, un-understandable.  

Roy, of course, did not oblige and suggest she need leave him nor the delightful, wonderful warmth that spread from her chest to the tips of her toes.

He did not even grant her the mercy of a definitive answer.

Roy just gave a lopsided grin, so very deliciously warm in itself. He cleared his throat for good measure and picked up where he left off.

Riza tried her very best to concentrate, bit her lip, bit her thumb, made suggestions.

It was in her subconscious that she was directed toward his freezer to scan for sweets.

Ice cream sandwiches, she grabbed two.  

Riza unwrapped her own carefully and took her place on the edge of the bed, knees folded under her.

Roy had stopped reading, again. 

She lifted an eyebrow, opened her mouth to advise he appreciate her legs in a less overt manner before she grabbed her spare pistol underneath the pillow next to him.  

He beat her to it-

“I was just thinking,” he promised. “About, Sir?”

Roy stared at her still as she broke a small piece of her sandwich and popped it promptly into her mouth. He inched off his reading glasses. Riza cocked her head just so at his sudden somber.

“Have we ever existed like this?” Roy hummed, “had this peace?”

She blinked, realizing perhaps he too had noticed. 

This most particularly pesky feeling, so alarmingly, uncomfortably comfortable.

Peace, Riza pondered. It was a peculiar word she had missed when attempting to identify that warmth from her head to her toes, every time she knocked, every time he opened that door, and invited her to make herself at home.

Home.

No, she did not feel that often, Riza could reluctantly admit.

“Not that I can recall, Sir.”  

Roy took pause, read his packet, flipped a page, and mumbled softly,

“Do we deserve it?”

Riza swallowed, her throat much narrower than seconds before. She picked at her sandwich and came to the definitive answer much too quickly.

“Probably not, no.”

Chocolate cookie stuck to her hands vexingly. Riza felt the need to move, refocus, rethink, before she became trapped in her endless world of regrets. 

She slipped off the bed for a napkin.

As if to catch her, as if she were to leave him, Roy called after her as calm as he could manage.  

“Would you be more comfortable somewhere else?”

It was a reasonable question, understandable, to be sure.

Riza picked the chocolate off her fingers, and bit at the inside of her cheek, knowing the real question

Should she more comfortable somewhere else?

Ah, this is where she so often got stuck and fled the thought rather than tread on such terrifying territory.

The gut answers were simple yes, she should, yet no, she wouldn’t.

Riza shook off all the reasons why, with one shamefully beautiful little smirk of her own.

She shrugged,

“Probably not, no,”

parroting her previous response, a little joke with herself. Such silly humor so splendidly simple, so seldom shown, set aside for the moments when she was Riza, the moments when she was home.

Roy felt humbled to be a part of such a spectacular thing.

He grinned goofily, stretching his arms behind his head, “Oh? Sounds like you enjoy my company, Captain.”

Riza’s smirk fell into a cutting glare, warning him not to test her with that ego, not to push the point.

For, truthfully, she’d rather not venture further into the topic, because, most unfortunately so, he was right.

Riza plucked the second sandwich off the bed and threw it in his direction, perhaps more forcefully than necessary,

“I only prefer your dessert selection, General.”

Roy fumbled on the catch, dropped his arms, dropped his act. He gave an exasperated sigh as she took her place next to him, on the bed, lounging against the headboard.

Riza plucked the papers out of his lap, and shuffled to find where they left off.

Roy ripped open his ice cream and took a healthy bite.

They sat there in silence-

perhaps silence was much too heavy of a word.  

They sat there in peace,

the quiet only broken when Roy tried sucking the chocolate off his fingers. Riza handed him the napkin at her side wordlessly.

Roy found himself lost in thought again, watching her read, resisting biting her nails.

His voice was lower, not serious, but simply not cocksure confidence,

It was honest when he smiled at her.

I only prefer your dessert selection.

“Only?”  

Roy huffed a light laugh. Riza blinked at the query.

He watched her cheeks dust pink as she fiddled momentarily with the corner of the pages, refusing to spare him a glance.

“Probably not,”

she felt warmth, understandably so.

“Probably not, no.”

[pocket-luv101]

Hey there! I guess you know by now just how much I adore Gil and Ray and I was wondering if you had other headcanons with them (Wrath included as well). I keep a list with mine, maybe one day I will post them, but I love your writing and I would sure love to hear more about them, if that's alright. If you are planning to include them in a fic, then I will wait :) I miss them...

I actually have a bunch of mini-drabbles/popcorn-fanfics for GilRay (and other ships) but I never posted them because they’re pretty short and rough. You guys think I write and post a lot, you have no idea XD

Here are some headcanons I have:

They have a closet full of matching, crazy and silly clothes/accessories because Gil just loves them.

Gil has painted nails so I like to think he practices on Ray from time to time.

They were childhood friends when they were human.Only Tanaka Strike can take this headcanon away from me and even then she has to rip it out of me cold, dead hands

Ray used to be a reserved kid but Gil kept dragging him on a bunch of adventures to the point he learns to just go with the flow and be more confident in his abilities“If we could wrangle a bull with our bare hands at the age of ten, we can totally pull off a jailbreak! Hopefully.”-Ray

Gil was a tiny ball of rage and energy that could only be calmed by Ray. Still got into a bunch of trouble

Ray was totally a photographer or something else art related (based on his ability)

I don’t know why but I always picture Gil with a boat. His ability is water related.

Gil was drafted into the war and Ray followed him because “We’re a team!”/”We’re partners!” and become closer through all the hardships

Wrath saved them and made them subclasses so they’re very loyal and respect her

She earned their devotion and adoration because she’s motherly to them and never judged their relationship.Forbidden love in the past, anyone?

After they become subclasses and learn about their powers, they would train together and come up with a bunch of combination/team attacks.

Gil may have sharp teethes but he still has the most beautiful smile Ray has ever known.

Gil is totally a messy eater.Mostly because he likes how Ray would wipe his mouth for him. He likes the attention

Ray is the only one that can control Drunk!Gil and Wrath forbids Gil to drink without Ray present.

-not a headcanon but a cute scene I totally picture for them-SLOW DANCING IN THE KITCHEN AT MIDNIGHT (or by a lake/river/secret hideout)

On dates, they speak in Italian because it’s nostalgic of their time as human and it makes them feel like they’re in their own world.

Late nights watching corny, black and white, romance movies is their guilty pleasure.

Ray isn’t a flirt but he does have this charm to him that people are smitten with and Gil gets jealous.“Hey, that’s my Casanova! Get your own even though I’m pretty sure you’ll never find someone as good as him.”-Gil-cue amused Ray shaking his head-Jealous Gil fanfic that I need to finish

In my world, Ray never lost his arm and no one is allowed to bring it up.  ALL THESE PRECIOUS CHARACTERS ARE FINE!Let me stay in my denial

And one of the mini fanfics I have (this is a human AU that’s pretty rough)

Rayshuffled through the pictures on his camera as he crossed the bridge, trying todecide which one he should use for next week’s photo contest. While he likedmost of them, they were mundane photos of things he found in his neighbourhood.Venice was beautiful but he couldn’t afford to travel to its stunning localesto take pictures. Despite that limitation, Ray was determined to make a livingthrough his camera.

Hewas so focused on his camera that he didn’t notice the rowdy crowd walkingtowards him. The teenagers were playing with a soccer ball and didn’t noticehim either. One of them accidentally kicked the call at Ray and his camera wasknocked from his hands. Everyone watched in horror as the camera flew over therail and off the bridge. Ray barely heard the teenager’s apologies as he leanedover the bridge and look into the canal but he didn’t see where it fell.

“We’rereally sorry, sir.” The teenagers tried to apologize again and Ray sighed.

“It’salright. Just be more careful next time.” They were only kids and they had togood sense to be apologetic so he wasn’t angry at them. He was more concernedabout his camera and wondered what he should do. The camera was his entirelivelihood so he needed to find it. Even if the camera was destroyed, he couldrecover the data.

Withthat decided, he ran off the bridge and stood on the edge of the canal. He couldn’t see thebottom, least of all where the camera could’ve fallen. Ray only hoped that it hadn’tfloated downstream with the current. He rolled up his pants and started to jumpinto the canal when a shout stopped him. “Heeey, Partner, you can’t swim in thecanal.”

Raypaused. He knew that there was a fine for swimming in the canal but he couldn’tafford a new camera or to replace all of his photos in only a few days. Heignored the man and jumped into the water. After a few failed searches, Rayemerged from the water cursing. A gondola stopped in front of him and the manon board looked down at him. “Enjoying your swim?”

“I’m looking for my camera. I dropped it into the canal.” Ray corrected him.

“Youmean this thing?” He held up his camera and Ray quickly reached up to grab itfrom him. The man took his hand and pulled him onto the gondola before hecould. Then he placed the camera on the seat next to him. “My name’s Gil. Thatthing flew out of nowhere and hit me.”

“Sorry,it was an accident. My name’s Ray.” He said as he inspected his camera fordamage. He was relieved that it was intact and that he hadn’t lost any of hispictures. Gil looked over his shoulder to the photos on the tiny screen.

“Thoseare beautiful. You sure have a good eye. Is that the old orphanage?” Ray jumpeda little when he felt his breath brushed his ear. He hadn’t realized how close Gilwas until he spoke. Gil pulled away from him and sat next to him. “No wonderyou wanted to get this camera back so bad. Are you a famous photographer or something?”

“I’dlike to be one day.” He said as Gil returned to the stern of the boat and tookthem back to the dock. “I love taking pictures. I just wish I could photographmore things outside of this neighbourhood. But I need to save more money forthat.”

Gilappeared thoughtful as he stopped the gondola. He held Ray’s hand to help him outof the boat but he didn’t let go of his hand even after he was standing on thedock. “I lived in Venice all of my life and I know a bunch of places you cantake great pictures. I give gondola rides on weekends so just stop by wheneveryou’re free.”

“Idon’t really have the money for a bunch of sightseeing rides.” Ray slipped hishand from his but he didn’t leave immediately.

“You’repretty cool so how about you pay me with coffee and a good conversation?” Giloffered and Ray had to admit his offer was tempting.

“Okay,meet me here next Friday. How do you like your coffee?” He asked and Gil’s smilecouldn’t be brighter. Seeing it, Ray raised his camera and took a picture. He liked to take pictures of things he found beautiful after all.

I know you didn’t ask for this much and I probably went overboard but I just had to gush and couldn’t stop once I started xD

[inkstainedfanfics]

A Variety of Drabbles and Unfinished Ideas

Under the cut, I’ve compiled a variety of free writing, warm ups, and first drafts of some of my work. Nothing’s super long and some of it is even cut off midsentence bc I must have had to leave or gotten an idea while writing it. I just thought it’d be fun to post a bit of it, unrevised.

If any of the ideas/themes in the works below inspire you, feel free to use the idea! Just tag me, please, so I can see where you take it! Or if there’s something you’d like me to try to return to, hmu.

Included Below (in order) is writing for: Newt Scamander, Cedric Diggory, Dean Winchester, Cullen Rutherford, Alistair Theirin, and my drabble series.

                                              Newt Scamander

Newt never expected to get here, to find himself embroiled so deeply in a cause he once claimed to never believe in. Yet here he stands on granite steps, a ring with a diamond turning over and over in his hands. His stomach’s little more than a bundle of nerves and nausea at this point and he thinks it can’t get any worse as the organ starts, but then he sees you and Merlin in high heaven, he knows he’d follow you through anything if you only asked.

                                                          • Newt’s hands are unfamiliar.

The realization makes you freeze where you stand, a plate slipping through your fingers and shattering against the tile floor. You don’t know him, you realize, as you stare at the cabinet without seeing it. Whatever they did to you in that lab, it had long-lasting effects.                                                           • He met you in the Great Hall, grabbing your arm as you tripped over him. You’d said your apology with a shimmering laugh that made his heart beat in a funny way he’d never felt before. Just exploring the stars above, you’d explained, pointing out the dark ceiling hanging above you. He’d looked up then back down when you pointed out a penguin the stars formed. You just have to look at it the right way, you said, eyes half closed and head tilted nearly ninety degrees. Then you’d looked back down at him and asked if he wanted to explore with you and he’d said yes with a weird feeling in his gut, an airy one that meant he had found the one.

                                                          • Newt jolts up as Jacob’s hand claps him on the shoulder. “I need your help.”

Newt’s eyes dart to you for a second, taking in your amused grin, before he clears his throat and looks back to Jacob. “What for?”

“It’s Queenie. She wants someone to dance with you.”

Newt’s face reddens instantly. “Sorry?”

“She wants someone to dance with you. She won’t dance with me until she finds you someone.”

                                                          • “Does he like seeds?”

Newt crosses a line out in his rough draft before looking up at you. “Sorry?” You lift the tiny beast in your hands, completely uncaring of the sharp spikes covering the entire thing. “Does Rufus like seeds?”

Newt’s brows furrow as he watches you carefully press a kiss to its nose. “I… yes, he does.”

You light up, rearranging the unusual animal in your hands until the blue and grey striped creature sits happily in one hand. Reaching with your other hand, you grab a fistful of seeds and offer it to the beast.

“What did you call him?”

You glance at him, grinning as the beast nibbles at the food in your hand. “Rufus. I hope you don’t mind I named him. He’s just too cute to remain ‘unknown number one.’ Yes you are, aren’t you, you cutie pie?”

The creature puffs up the slightest bit, a show of contentment, and Newt finds himself doing the opposite, melting away, simultaneously warmed and surprised by this side of you.

You glance up at him again, lip caught between your teeth. “Is that all right?”

“Yes.” He nods, strange feeling filling his chest, “Yes, it is, no worry.”

And when you give him a relieved smile, he finds it hard to look away.                                                           • Newt’s focus isn’t on the bartender chatting it up with the woman next to him or the swing dance going on out on the floor, nor is it on splinter from the stool that’s certainly making its way into the back of leg or the stench of beer and vomit making its way from the nearby bathrooms. No, it’s solely on you and the feel of your hand gripping his a little tighter every time someone gets a little too close and the way you look as you laugh at his every joke.

You trust him, had asked him to pretend to be your boyfriend earlier with plenty of stuttering. “It only makes sense if it’s not the best bar. We keep each other safe. Like always.”

The thought warms him.

“Say,” Newt begins, playing with the tall glass in front of him, “I 

                                                          •

It’s raining when it happens. Newt remembers that even now, years later, for the particular spontaneity of the situation.

A drought plagued the area at the time, yet as you paced and screamed and shouted and fumed and let your anger fill the dry air, a thunderstorm formed, fell, and dissipated. Newt’s not sure if the final crack was you apparating or gentle thunder.

Newt shakes the memory, peering up at Theseus. “Did you hear about her?” Theseus rubs his brow, sighing and leaning back in the heavy chair. “You don’t want to hear about this, little brother.”

Newt fights the urge to show his irritation. “I don’t believe you could possibly know that.”

“I know you, Newt. Better than you’d like to admit.”

Newt waits in the office, the chair beneath him creaking with every movement. He waits for the answer. Really, a war hero brother on good terms with the ministry is a blessing. Theseus can learn anything Newt wants to know.

“Well?”

Theseus grabs a box of cigars from the top drawer and lights it. “Mum asked about you.”

Fine, Newt will play this game. “Where is she?”

“She’s at home where she always is. Waiting for her dearest son to return.”

“Is she also waiting for her oldest son to grow up?”

Theseus grins, a wide smile that shows off his teeth and twists the scars on his face. “You always had that quick wit. Pity you never put it to use for anything productive.”

“Please, just tell me where she is.”

Newt thinks Theseus is reaching back into his drawer to offer a cigar to Newt, but instead he pulls out a slip of parchment covered in nearly illegible cursive. “Henry found it.”

“Thank you.”

With another sigh, Theseus leans back again. “Just don’t get yourself hurt.”        

                                      Cedric Diggory

Cedric’s hands land on your hips. His mischievous smile grows as his fingers begin to move.

“Ced,” you warn, grinning, “don’t you dare.”

“What shouldn’t I dare to do, exactly, hm?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer.

You shriek, laughing and trying to peel his hands from your waist. He doesn’t relent, eventually forcing you to back away: straight into a tree.

“Stop.” You giggle and, to your surprise, he does.

“I got you.” He murmurs, lips against yours.

“You sure did.” You say before kissing him.

                                                          • Cedric watched you die right in front of his eyes, felt your hand loosen around his fingers, fade quickly and quietly into the unknown. Into a safety that he doesn’t have the something of knowing. He watches you become a nothing in this world of somethings. He himself follows suit, a nothing anymore. No one in Hogwarts wants to rally around him. His broomstick gathers dust in his closet. His golden hair fades to a dull amber that he may or may not have dyed when you disappeared, a color to match your personality. He himself dims, only bright part a gleaming pocketwatch, a way to remember you that no one else understands.

He drowned in the casseroles and jelly beans and bags upon bags of chocolate frogs. He died when you did. He doesn’t need those. Why does everyone think he wants them? He could never bring himself to care. You’re dead so how could it matter? I can’t write but Cedric loved you in a way no one has ever loved a woman, another person. I can’t write but Cedric can’t breathe when he wakes up in the morning and remembers that he’ll only see your smile in old pictures. I can’t write but Cedric can’t move from his bed on summer days when no one’s home and they won’t know he spent all day staring at his wall.

He’s memorized every crack every splinter every bit of paint that dried over a lump in the wall. He knows it all. It’s been three hundred seventy-nine days since he watched you leave to explore the underworld and he doesn’t know how long he has to wait to see you again but he’ll wait all day for his copilot, his love, his only darling and his once future wife, now permanent memory.

He aches and aches and aches over the thought of your life being permanently removed from the world, like the world removing all the birds singing or the wind’s soft call. It’s not a world worth living in to him. Still he does. For your sake because if you’re anywhere where you can still see him, you’ll kill him again if he lets himself do nothing but weep and cry and wait and wait and wait and he’ll wait every day for an eternity if it means he’ll get to see you again for even five seconds because Merlin he loved you and he can’t imagine how he’ll do this without you.

Come back for him, he prays every night, wondering if you’ll even be there when he gets back, if you’ll have waited for him to explore the craggy mountains and deep oceans of grief. He’s left to explore everything alone, doesn’t even try to find someone else to help him through this. No one else could ever be a partner like you.

                                                          • Cedric’s hand is in yours and his smile is honey sweet and beautiful and you can’t imagine being anywhere but next to him, next to this boy you’ve loved since your fourth year when you worked up the nerve to say it to him, to tell him and when you’d worried your heart would burst when he said it back with a sugar smile and an ocean’s worth of love and you know there’s no way you could leave him no never he’s your one forever.

                                              Dean Winchester

Dean flips the phone shut, running a hand over his face before grabbing his jacket and a gun.

“Dean?” Sam questions from where he lays in bed, laptop balanced on his knees.

“I’m going out.”

“Where?”

“To find her.”

Sam scoffs. “Dean, you drove all night. You need to sleep.”

Dean shakes his head, sliding his arms into a green coat. “I can’t sleep. I need her.”

“She’s five hours away. You can’t seriously plan to see her.”

“Listen, Sammy, you can stay here or you can come with. Either way, I’m going to find her.”

Sam rolls his eyes but clicks the laptop shut. “Give me a minute to pack and I’ll be out. You know,” he says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, “some people may call this love.”

                                                          • Dean’s scream is a tremendous sound – bounding through the woods and the fields at once, trembling the trees at their roots.

Leaves crunch under his knees – a strange sound, it seems, to Dean, to notice as she bleeds out beside him, her leg already a nasty shade of violet and worsening every minute.

“Please don’t die. Please.” He begs as he grabs her hand, trying to pull her back to consciousness.

Her grip is weak, strength fading quickly as she smiles up at him with blood-soaked teeth. “I would never, my dearest Dean.” And instantly he knows something is wrong, but he doesn’t know what until her neck cracks and flames shoot from her eyes and leak under her fingertips and suddenly she isn’t the one he loves but a demon infested corpse lurching up and reaching for him.

It’s only by Sam’s sure shot and Cas’s quick hand that he’s saved, but his terrified, traumatized screams last long after he’s shaken awake by Jody the next morning.

                                                          • Death, could it really be bad after so much pain? Dean’s eyes glazed over as Sam shook his body. Sam, Sammy – would he be okay?

The woman nodded. Dean relaxed. His brother knew how to survive. He would move on, find a new partner, maybe even escape.

A sigh left Dean’s lips, and he welcomed death like an old friend.

                                                 (spy AU)

She’s been shot three times. She took her first bullet in her shoulder, a consequence of getting too cocky in a fight. The second came from an old friend turned enemy. The scar’s still a white blob situated just above her hip bone. The third shot was in her thigh; she earned quite the lecture from her leader for that ‘stunt.’

So when she sees the gun lining up for his chest, she doesn’t think twice.

Dean cusses her name. “What the hell?” He empties his clip into the man shooting back and drops the pistol, falling to his knees next to her. “Fucking hell.”

Blood spills from the bullet hole. “Shit. Sam,” he shouts into the mouthpiece they all wear, “get the extraction ready. And bring Jody.” He presses his hand over the wound, trying desperately to staunch the blood flow. “We’re going to need her.”

                                              Cullen Rutherford

Cullen swings the little girl up onto his lap at her begging.

“Dada, dad please.”

“Another round of peekaboo?”

She brightens and grins, showing off a missing tooth. “Yes, yes! Peekaboo!”

Cullen sighs but smiles. “Just one round, then dada has to get back to work, angel.”

Her grubby fingers cover her sky blue eyes. “One… two…”

Cullen bounces the knee she’s sitting on. The action earns a shriek of giggles that break apart the word “three.”

“Dada,” she yells, “stop. Enough.” One tiny hand frees itself from the tangle of his lion’s mane armor and lands on his thigh. “Enough. It’s peekaboo time.”

Cullen laughs at his daughter’s solemn expression. “Okay, peekaboo time. Dada’s sorry.”

The little girl’s attention has already drifted away, though, to the woman standing in the doorway, leaning against the threshold.

“Mama!”

Lavellan smiles at the little girl before glancing at Cullen. “How are my two favorite people?”

“We’re playing peekaboo.”

“Oh? Is dada winning?”

“No!”

Cullen lifts an eyebrow. “When’s the last time I won anything around here?”

“You won my heart.”

“I suppose I couldn’t ask for a better prize.”

The moment unfolding between the two of them is interrupted by their daughter as she complains with a long “Ewww.” She leaps from Cullen’s lap. “Mama, dada, let’s play dolls.” She races past Lavellan’s legs and into the next room.

Lavellan shuts the door when her daughter begins laughing the next room over. ‘Uncle Dorian’ can play dolls with her for a few minutes. Just enough time to give her and Cullen a moment of quiet. She strolls across the room to his chair.

“You’re tired of losing games around here?”

He grins, hands landing on the sides of her thighs as she steps in front of him. “It’s a heavy burden to bear.”

“Maybe you should stop throwing games of chess.” She murmurs.

“I don’t know what you mean. You’re clearly much better at the game than I.” 

                                                          • Cullen didn’t notice the tiny freckles climbing up her nose and dotting over her pale cheeks the first time he met her. No, his focus was drawn to the glow pulsing from her hand.

“What is it?” The mage – no, apostate; Cullen’s hand tightens around the hilt of his sword – shook his head.

“We can’t be sure yet. I need more time to examine the mark.”

Cullen was about to reply, about to push for information, when he heard a guard joke about slummers and elves. Striding forward, the captain pushes the hair back from her ear: pointed. Of course. It would explain her long features and the tattoos looping around her eyes. And the mark. He should’ve know it would be a mage. What else could send demons spilling out of the sky? Elven magic.

He stepped away, eyeing the apostate. A friend of hers? “You’re certain you don’t know?”

“Not yet. I have a few more tests I’d like to perform, but they require a conscious subject.”

“It couldn’t have anything to do with magic?” Cullen asks between grit teeth.

The apostate looked up, eyebrows raised. “Of course it does.”

Cullen paused, then gave one short nod to his men. “Make sure she’s unable to move. When she wakes, move her into the dungeon cells.”

The apostate shook his head. “That isn’t necessary.” He turned toward the guard. “Leave her be.”

“Did you not hear? She’s a mage. She’s a danger to those around her.”

“No she isn’t. The magic doesn’t come from her.”

“The mark –“

“- Is magic, but she’s quite obviously not responsible for it. Tell me, do you see a staff here? No? And when she fought at the tear, was it with spells or two daggers?”

Cullen shook his head. “I don’t trust her. She’ll go in the dungeons.”

“I can’t complete any of my tests if she’s down there.”

“Find a way.”

The apostate sighs. “Must I consult Cassandra?”

“She’s a danger.” He says, voice raised.

“She is our only chance to stop demons from destroying the world.” The apostate retorts, annoyingly calm.

                                              Alistair Theirin

Alistair nearly falls to pieces when he enters the room and sees her perched on the edge of the giant bed, dotting away tears with a handkerchief. He drops the book on military tactics, leaving it forgotten on the rug so he can rush to her side and wrap an arm around her shoulder. “Love, what is it? What hurts?”

She sobs again, body shuddering, but she manages to shake her head.

“Are you okay? What is it? Dear, please tell me what’s wrong.” He can hear the desperation in his voice, the absolute terror, but he can’t help it as she shudders with another sob and leans into his touch. She could be hurt. “What is it? Is it the ball menu? Because I can have that changed.”

“No, Alistair,” she chokes out, “it has nothing to do with that.”

He wants to make a joke about fighting with the chef, but he’s still on edge, his body tensed and folded instinctively around her, protecting her from every possible physical threat. “What is it?”

But before she can answer, his whole body ices over, frozen by pure terror. He does the math in his head but no, no it can’t be. “You can’t… can’t hear an archdemon in your head, can you? I’m not sure I have another battle in me for at least a month.” He says it like it’s a joke even though he can barely pull in a full breath.

“Oh, no. No, darling. It’s not that.” She drops her hands from her tears, cradling Alistair’s face as she blinks away more tears and takes three deep breaths to chase away the final hiccups plaguing her.

Alistair sucks in a relieved breath and brushes the tears from her cheek with his thumb, anxiety-induced wall melting away under her gaze. “You can tell me, my dear.”

“Alistair, I’m… I’m pregnant.” She says it with an inevitable grin and another round of tears.

Out of everything Alistair had imagined her saying, that never once came into his head. “Pregnant? Are you… are you sure?”

He doesn’t dare get his hopes up, doesn’t dare believe this. Not when this is so impossible, so… so good. Good things don’t happen, not to him.

But she nods, covering her mouth as a choked laugh escapes. “I’ve suspected for a week, but I didn’t want to tell you until I knew. The healers confirmed it today.”

In a daze, Alistair stands, tugging on his wife’s hands. A dad. He’s going to be a dad and have a family.

Tears prick his own eyes. Everything he ever asked for, coming true.

He looks down at his wife, at his beautiful, gorgeous, loving wife who was more than he had ever let himself dream of even knowing, and he cries before pulling her into a bone-crushing hug.

                                     Original Drabble Series (Spy AU)

He was the newbie once. Freshly recruited straight from New York. He’d always been the wild card there, still was one now, just a controlled one. His first mission with this crew, he’d gone rogue, left a trail of bodies behind just for the hell of it, taken risks that should’ve lost him his life. They hadn’t, but the beating he endured after nearly did.

“Don’t ever do that again, got it? We have enough issues without your fucking around. I pulled strings to get you here. Shape up or get out.”

It took a week for the black eye to heal. He was still here.

Since then, he’d never had so much fun on a mission. Choices are calculated, plans followed, ideas discussed.

But that all changes when he sees her on the ground, eye black, unmoving.

He cocks his pistol and points it straight ahead, taking out three people in only a few seconds. Stealth mission be damned.

Not a single person of the thirty-two in the building survive.

Grey and July help extract her and move her to the team medic. He doesn’t leave her side the entire time.

J enters that night, expression stern, white suit on.

He preps himself for another lecture, one deserved after the PR savior Red had to pay after a news station picked up the story about thirty-two men mysteriously killed at the outskirts of town.

But J just jerks his chin toward where she lays, bruised and unconscious and bloody. “Alive?”

He nods.

J’s lips thin. “You’re in charge of the compound tonight. I have some errands to run. Make sure Grey takes care of the dogs.”

Though he knows, he asks, “Where are you going?”

J adjusts his suit. “I have some business to discuss with a… previous partner.”

“When will you be back?”

J turns, heading for the door. “Depends how cooperative this partner is.”

He turns back to his wife, rage simmering. She’s safe here, and she will be after tonight.

J returns the next afternoon, a new stain marring the jacket of his suit and a newspaper with a headline detailing the murder of another five men in the middle of the night.

                                                          • “New York, you have the back alley. July, Italy, you cover the rooftops. I’m thinking red brick and nasty wallpaper buildings are best. LA will disarm the systems so J and I can get in. Red, you wait by the front with the minivan. Grey, take the van to a side road five blocks North of here. New York, J, and I will meet you there. Red will pick up LA, and July will take the bus back.”  Wolf sighs, a long hissing noise everyone flinches at as it crackles over their earpieces. “Everyone understand the plan? Yes? All right, no diverging from it. Let’s go.” He tugs the hat low over his eyes and gestures forward with his chin, nudging J into action.

[evenstevensranked]

#32: Season 1, Episode 7 - “Foodzilla”

Louis convinces Ren to let him do a live news segment on the school lunch lady for the Wombat Report. Unfortunately, his inability to be serious turns the story into a fiasco -- ultimately causing the lunch lady to quit her job.

The episode opens with Louis and Ren walking home from school. He’s nagging her and asking “please?!” over and over. This is obviously setting us up to wonder what the heck he’s asking for. Side note: I love how even though I know they filmed the interior shots of the house on a set, I STILL like to think they used the real house from time to time, lol. This is another one of those instances. They’re walking out and about in the real world, up until they reach their front door. You can’t tell if they’re still outside or if they’ve captured great artificial “natural” light. Gahhh. You can also hear legitimate sounding wind and cars driving by, which is either great sound editing or... ya know, they were actually at the house. In which case.. IT TOTALLY IS THE SAME INSIDE! 

Yeah, this is definitely (probably) my wishful thinking talking tbh. The more I stare at these images the more it looks like a set with bright lights... But still. 

Anyway, nerd analyzation aside... Turns out Louis desperately wants to host a segment on the premiere installment of the Wombat Report, which Ren is in charge of. He says that he could make her a comic masterpiece, which is where Ren immediately shuts any prospect down. Naturally, she absolutely will not allow it because she thinks Louis is incapable of taking anything seriously. I don’t blame her. If only she could lighten up, though.. Louis probably could’ve delivered something great, hilarious and take it seriously. I would’ve loved to see that, tbh. 

Literally a million scenes/lines from this episode were used in Disney Channel promos for the show. Including “You think I need to shave my pits?” “I rest my case.” which happens around this point of the episode. 

Louis heads out to the backyard, where Eileen is attempting to do Tai-Chi. The only problem is that she can’t find the right music to help her relax. Louis confides in her about the Wombat Report situation, and she tells him if he really wants to do it, the only option is to take it seriously and present Ren with a professional idea. She invites Louis to try exercising with her “Do this with me! It’s called: Golden Chicken Stands on One Leg.” Louis gives up right away and says:

So freaking good. Louis Stevens is all of us. 

Eileen eventually looks though Ren’s CD collection for better relaxation tunes and chooses Limp Bizkit. Oh my god. “The Limp Biscuits. That sounds relaxing” she says. bahaha I can’t. 

The next day at school, Louis tries to figure out a good idea for a story and goes to Twitty and Tawny for help at lunch. Twitty suggests that he do a behind the scenes look at his band, The Alan Twitty Project! Ahhhh! This is the first ever hint at the band arc! :D He also says that his lead singer has mono. The number one sickness mentioned on teen shows that literally no one I’ve ever known in real life has contracted. We get another one of those lines used in promos here: Louis: “You think I’m just some goofball who can’t be serious?” Twitty and Tawny: “...........yeah.” 

Right about now is when Louis gets the bright idea to do his story on the school lunch lady.. played by Wendy Worthington who’s been in a zillion things you’ve probably seen. Including “Tower of Terror” -- the single most horrifying movie to ever air on Disney Channel. (Well, except for “Don’t Look Under The Bed.”) There’s a decapitated corpse and doll in the film. Just sayin. 

She’s honestly really good at playing a creepy lady, I guess. Also, the little girl is Morgan from Boy Meets World... which instead of a direct parallel, you could consider a 6 degrees of separation deal between this show and BMW. I mean, that’s kinda reaching... but.

Just for the laughs, here’s me on the ride at Disney World. I was... well, terrified of it, but oddly obsessed at the same time. Also, that is my uncle laughing at me to my right. 

Louis presents Ren with a rough draft of his report “The Lunch Lady: Life Behind The Hairnet” which seems extremely promising. Ren thinks so too, and allows him to do the segment. We sort of get mirror talk that night... but not really. It’s just Louis practicing various ways to act on air -- another bit used in promos. 

Okay, we’ve finally reached the debut of The Wombat Report! For some reason Ren can’t correctly pronounce “Wombat Report” and says “Wombat Waport” I never understood this until I asked my mother for confirmation today. Louis refers to her as “Bawa” (a.k.a Barbara Walters) at one point, so I always assumed this was a reference to her or something... turns out my assumption was correct. I apologize for being an uncultured swine.

They start off with a “Coming up...” intro that features a character named DaNica Henderson (played by Alexis Lopez from The Luck Of the Irish, whose sister is Bianca Lopez a.k.a Mandy “Always Gets Her Man” Sanchez! Holy crap!) To quote Season 3 Louis:

DaNica says “Ever wonder what happens to the fines you pay on overdue library books? I have a shocking report.” And the camera zooms out to reveal a fancy sports car in the librarian’s parking spot: 

Like, wth?! lol. Imagine if the librarian saved up enough piddly overdue fines to buy a freaking lambo or something?! omg. What’s funnier is that I’m picturing the stereotypical, old lady librarian driving around in that car. 

They segue to a sports report by the underused Artie Ryan. Yesssss. He’s interviewing Twitty about a recent basketball game. This scene cuts to Louis, who’s on next, telling Tom (who of course is the AV guy/cameraman) that he’s just gonna wing the interview with the lunch lady. Not good. When it cuts back to Artie’s segment, we get another one of those backends to a random sentence from Twitty: “...Let’s just say it’s the last time I played without a cup.” Oh my god. Chill, Disney. Twitty takes this on-air opportunity to say that his band is looking for a bassist. Artie leans in like “Hey! I play bass!” lol. This is so great because Artie goes on to join The Alan Twitty Project/Twitty-Stevens Connection! Again, very cool to see the band arc starting to form. Gotta love solid continuity. 

It’s time for Louis’ report and, well... this is just one of those absolutely iconic scenes ya gotta embed: 

“It’s FOODZILLA! Tokyo is dooooomed!” (At least, I think that’s what he’s saying.) 

..........as you can see, Louis started off his live-streamed interview sort of okay? And then it all just went down in flames pretty quickly. Only Louis Stevens could take an interview from a simple question, to a full out food war between the news crew and the Lunch Lady. It’s actually pretty hilarious, but you just cannot help but cringe at the fact Louis f’d up… again -- Much like his meltdown in Wild Child. But, I’m ranking this disaster higher because I find it less horrible than tarnishing the name of his own family and jeopardizing Eileen’s campaign on television. It’s a lil less cringy than that, which makes it funnier. I love how he shouts “MAN DOWN! I’ll try to get’cha out! I’ll try to get’cha!” as if they’re literally at war, which is too much lol.. and also predicted Shia’s future...? (Again, I’m reaching, but STILL.) That ending shot scene of Ren fuming with anger was also used for promos. Actually, you can just check out this promo video I posted recently to see every moment I’ve mentioned so far and then some.

To Ren’s surprise, everyone (including Principal Wexler for whatever reason) loved Louis’ segment and thought it was hilarious. DaNica refers to it as “phat” which definitely dates the show, lol. Just like that, Ren switches gears and tells Louis to prepare another segment. Wow. Unfortunately, at lunch that day.. all the kids start taunting the lunch lady by screaming “FOODZILLA!” at her. This one kid was the first one to shout it, and I always thought he was Khleo Thomas (Zero from Holes) lol:

The lunch lady is obviously mortified and runs away into the kitchen. :( Louis and Ren feel incredibly remorseful. When they get home from school, they tell Eileen everything and she forces them to go to the lunch lady’s house and apologize. (This is also the “You are a horrible little person” bit. As seen in that darn promo I linked.)

They go to her house later that night, and she reluctantly invites them in. We learn that her name is Elsa Schotz, and she “shows them who she really is” by yodeling for them. I don’t know how that’s supposed to reveal her true colors, but ok. We find out that she came over on a boat from Europe to become a professional yodeler, but sadly no one cares about yodeling in America — which is most definitely extremely factual. Have you ever heard a Top 40 yodeling hit? Honestly, why would ANYONE travel to America of all countries to pursue a yodeling career? She was already in Europe! That seems like something you’d go to Germany or Switzerland for??? I feel like this is a career endeavor you’d research where it’s most lucrative before moving to another country? Anyway, once she found out that yodeling work literally does not exist in the US, she started cooking at the school for money. But, now she’s depressed because she’s being made fun of.

This information somehow leads to Louis and Ren giving her a makeover??? I never realized it before, but that almost makes no sense? The kids at school weren’t making fun of her for the way she looks, but rather, because of her crazy outburst. I’d be so insulted and confused if I were Elsa. Is the makeover just a way to... somehow distract from the Foodzilla thing? Idk. She forgives them in the end though and her new-look gives her a confidence boost.

Where’d they get that outfit? Did she just happen to have something snazzy like that in the back of her closet? or did they seriously glamify her uniform?

They were pumped for the kids at school to see the “new and improved” Elsa Schotz, but she doesn’t show up the next day. Turns out she struck up a relationship with the school janitor and they eloped to Las Vegas to get married. Still a better love story than Twilight. 

And that’s pretty much it! The short return after the last commercial break is Louis yodeling for Eileen while she does her Tai-Chi. 

This episode remains super memorable. Probably because how many freaking scenes they used on commercials! It also aired a lot as well. Like, wow. But other than the actual Foodzilla scene, the rest of the episode is just a little bland and slightly random at times haha. It’s still good though. It’s nice to see Louis and Ren work together to help Elsa in the end. 

Thoughts?

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[thefaeriereview]

Blitz: Atonement

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RELEASE BLITZ 

Book Title: Atonement Camp for Unrepentant Homophobes 

Author: Evan J. Corbin 

Publisher: Atonement Book, LLC 

Cover Artist: The Book Cover Whisperer

Release Date: September 3, 2020 for the print book and September 17, 2020 for the eBook. 

Genre/s: Contemporary LGBTQ Fiction; Speculative Fiction; Humour 

Trope/s: Fish-out of water comedy 

Themes: Coming out, cultural assimilation 

Heat Rating: 2 flames 

Length: 70 600 words/ 283 pages 

Goodreads

Buy Links - Available in Kindle Unlimited and Paperback 

Amazon US | Amazon UK

Atonement Camp.

Pastor Harris is only going to save his career.

But while he doesn’t want to be there, a change of heart may be just what he needs...

Blurb The oldest translation of a Gospel is returned to the world by a secret society long dedicated to its preservation. In it, Jesus explicitly condemns bigotry and homophobia. In a new world in which LGBTQ passengers receive preferential boarding for flights and the United States has elected its first lesbian President, Pastor Rick Harris is stalwart, closeted preacher who doggedly holds onto his increasingly unpopular convictions. When an incendiary sermon goes too far and offends an influential family, Rick makes a painful choice to keep his job: He attends an atonement camp run by drag queens for society’s most unrepentant and terminally incurable homophobes. Atonement Camp is immersion therapy for Pastor Harris, and it might be working. An open bar with pedicures, a devastatingly attractive roommate and an endless supply of glitter help him manage to make new friends. Soon, Rick and his cohorts learn the camp may hold its own secrets. Amid the smiling faces and scantily clad pool boys who staff the camp, a clandestine group plots to discredit the New Revelation and everything it stands for. If Rick has the conviction to confront his own hypocrisy, he might be able to uncover the conspirators with help from his adopted flock—and find new truths within himself.

  Excerpt Chapter 1 Northern Syria It was just after sunrise. The call to prayer from the nearby city’s rooftop loudspeakers receded as Dr. Michael Donahue’s driver left a familiar road for the makeshift trails that led deep into the desert. One faith bridged to the next, he thought. Before long, he wouldn’t need the light jacket, but he wore it anyway. It was a mysterious quest, and he tugged the jacket tight around his chest. The jeep bounced over the rough terrain as Dr. Donahue carefully poured hot water from his thermos over his yerba mate leaves. His second mate would be less bitter than the first. Each time he made a fresh tea, the leaves lost more of their bitterness to the boiling water. The same leaves could be used again and again any given morning. It reminded him of his profession. Archeology was the sober study of the forgotten—people who lived, laughed, suffered, and died, their history diluted by each passing year. Dr. Donahue was determined to learn as much as he needed to reanimate their past with subtle detail, adding context to what would otherwise be merely more than a list of dates and details for his undergraduates to memorize before a test. As promised, a man stood by the still-empty dig site. He was dressed in a Western style—no keffiyeh or other head dressing. With short sleeves and rugged boots, his attire was more practical than fashionable. Dr. Donahue always appreciated utility and function above much else. He acknowledged that his estimation of the man’s credibility was thus-far unearned, but he nonetheless felt more comfortable in the company of the familiar. The site had been Dr. Donahue’s home for most of the past year. His team would return after Ramadan. Dr. Donahue’s research specialization centered almost primarily around the early Christian era. He took a certain guilty pleasure in casually admitting his atheism each semester to the newest crop of freshman at his university in Washington, D.C. Like all things, he saw it as a learning opportunity. One is not excused from understanding something just because they don’t agree with it, he’d remind them. The site itself was an early Christian refuge under the Roman Empire. Forgotten by time, but now rediscovered. Painstakingly, he and his team would uncover artifacts and consider what stories they told about the people who made them. Dust from the jeep’s tires made a gritty fog that enveloped the air. Dr. Donahue squinted, his eyes already dry. He coughed and plodded through the sand to the man silently awaiting his arrival. “Dr. Donahue.” The professor extended his hand to the stranger. The man took his hand and smiled. “Thank you for coming. Your research associate mentioned your name last year when he worked with us, and we immediately knew we needed to meet with you.” Dr. Donahue fanned the remaining traces of the sand from his face. “We?” The man flashed a half smile. “Consider us like yourself, Professor. Archeologists.” “I would assume, but that doesn’t answer my question.” The man chuckled. “By the end of the day, I expect that to change. Come. Follow me,” he beckoned. Still confused, the professor followed the man down the makeshift stairs to the dig site. “We’re not certain where it was found,” the man said, waving his arm over the site, “but this is likely close and as good a spot as any.” “What, exactly, was found?” The man frowned. “Technically, it was never lost. Let me be more precise. This is where it will be rediscovered.” The professor felt his frustration growing. “What, and by whom?” The man turned to face the professor, still smiling. “The oldest copy of the Gospel of Mark ever discovered. I’m what we refer to as a Custodian—a group of people committed to protecting this draft as we have done for more generations than our history may account for.” The professor’s jaw dropped. He looked for answers in the man’s eyes to questions he could not manage to formulate. “Every truth has its season, professor,” the man said, lowering himself to sit next on an empty crate near an assortment of digging tools. “This region has been plagued with war. We fear that if the artifact is not returned to the world now, it may never be.” If his research associate hadn’t already vouched so strongly for the meeting, the professor was certain he would have already left the madman in another cloud of obscuring sand. Instead he asked: “Why have you kept it in the first place?” “It contains a passage not found in any modern text. What’s the American expression? ‘One man’s waste is another man’s treasure’? That’s how our forefathers saw it. They saw something worthy of protection until the world was ready for the message. That time is now.” Dr. Donahue smiled. His birthday was the following week, and the realization that his research associate might have set this up as an elaborate practical joke began to seem like the most likely explanation. It wouldn’t be out of character for him, he thought. “So, where is it?” he asked, playing along. The man pointed to a black chest. Taking the bait, Dr. Donahue carefully lifted the lid, expecting some puppet to pop out and exclaim “Happy Birthday!” Instead, the heavy lid creaked open to reveal a scroll bound in plastic and wound over on itself. His smile faded. Even without the aid of his radiocarbon dating equipment, he could tell the document was old. Very, very old.

About the Author 

Evan is a member of the LGBTQ community who fancies himself as a playboy socialite, living in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Between work and lucid moments of sobriety, he writes a little. His debut novel is a light-hearted work that still manages to confront religious hypocrisy and contemporary LGBTQ struggles to balance their loss of culture with new-found civil rights. His friends say the book is great! Hopefully, you will as well.

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