#I know it’s supposed to be obvious but leave me be

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Best In Show

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Naya "Bambi" Walker (OC)

Read on AO3

Word count: 4.8k

CW: BDSM, Sexual Content, kink negotiations, hucow kink, speech restriction, themed lingerie, lactation kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, so much dirty talk, pre-nut insanity (one of my favorite flavors of Simon), fantasies of dub-con (no actual dub-con), post-nut laughter

Notes: This was supposed to be a short addition to the Kinktober prompts, but obviously I am bad at keeping things short. Also, the working title for this was "Moo Moo Moo."

Simon is hiding something. Maybe that’s the wrong way to look at it. There’s something he’s not saying, not making obvious. It itches at the back of your mind.

It starts with looking at your own nude body in the mirror after a shower. You’ve been going to the gym, just a little bit. Weight training and cardio to keep up with all of the sex you’ve been having since moving in with Simon. You haven’t really lost any weight. In fact, your hips are wider, with no real change in the pouch of your belly.

Simon makes an interested noise when he walks into the bedroom. “Guess we should ‘old off on supper, eh?”

“No, no, I want to try that recipe I found,” you say, ignoring his discontented noise as you pull on underwear. The pleased noise he makes when you tug on his shirt is predictable, just like the kiss he presses to your cheek. “I was just… looking at myself. Kind of surprised that I’ve got more hip. Still got the belly, though.”

Simon surprises you by saying, “Tit’s’re bigger, too.”

“Are they?” You bunch the shirt in the back, and take yourself in. “Huh.”

“More pectoral muscle,” he says with a shrug. “More breast.”

“That’s not how that works,” you scoff, shoving him playfully before leaving the bedroom. “Besides, I heard your tis are the first to go when you lose weight.”

“Then I hope you don’t lose weight,” Simon answers, following you into the kitchen for a kiss. “I like all’o you.”

He spends extra time worshiping your thick parts, that night. Kisses you and kisses you and kisses you while rubbing your belly and groping at your hips, stroking and pinching at your breasts, your thighs, your love handles, your arm fat. He’s ravenous as he eats you out. The two of you are loud as he takes you apart. You fall asleep completely drained and covered in sore spots.

It doesn’t occur to you that you’ve been missing anything for a while after that. In fact, nothing seems off until he catches you masturbating a couple of months later. One moment, you’re alone at home, in bed, and the next he’s climbing in next to you with a groan and a sigh of relief.

“Whatcha wachin’?” he asks over your surprised yelp. “Tha’s not y’r usual boyfriend.”

“What do you know about my usual porn,” you laugh as you pass him your earbuds to place on the side table. You roll to kiss him as you admit, “It’s not really exciting, I was mostly done.”

“What counts as exciting?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, cuddling up. He smells so good. “You know my usuals, why don’t you tell me?”

Simon chuckles into your hair. “Big dicks ‘n ‘elplessness. Bonus points for dubious consent.”

“…Well… You’re not wrong.”

“I know what my girl likes.”

“Okay,” you giggle. “Well, what’s exciting for you?”

If you didn’t know him, you would have missed the split second pause before his answer. As it is you barely catch the way his hand twitches against the curve of your ass.

But he says, “You know what I like. A beautiful woman asking for what she wants.”

“And getting it until she cries,” you purr, rolling on top of him.

“Lies and slander,” he deadpans, grinding his hips up into yours. “I’d never enjoy seeing you with those pretty tears in your eyes, beggin’ me t’ keep goin’ and t’ stop at the same time.”

Of course, you both prove him wrong in short order. After, he holds you while you tremble, pressing kisses to the crown of your head. He laughs, just a little, when you can’t sit up enough to get your water on your own, but he also helps you, so that’s okay.

The next day, you realize that you actually don’t know what porn Simon finds exciting. He’s shared some with you, of course, on the nights where sex was too much work until it suddenly wasn’t. Every now and again, though, he would scroll past something with a dismissive noise. It wouldn’t be noteworthy, except… well, they’re all videos he’s saved in his favorites. So he likes them, but doesn’t necessarily want to share them with you. Which is fine. Heaven knows you’re deleting your porn history regularly. Whatever you look up when you’re ovulating is between you, Bowser, and God.

But the last straw for your curiosity comes when you borrow his phone to do some quick online shopping. A friend is having a themed pool party and wants everyone in shades of blue. You’ve been on a pink and purple kick, so you don’t actually have an appropriate bathing suit. So you pull up the search engine and look up bathing suits.

And there, in the search history: ‘Cow Print Bikini’.

Your research brain goes, “Jackpot.”

There’s no way to tell what, if anything, Simon looked at in the search results. But you’re good at knowing where to look. More importantly, you know your man. And after a full 24 hours of research, you have a pretty good idea of the shape of things.

  -

  “Hey Simon,” you call, a week later.

“In the den,” he answers.

“Can you… actually, I’ll be right there!”

When you get there, he’s playing one of his video games. He turns his head to kiss you, then curses under his breath when a pink slime eats the fruit he’d been trying to harvest. It’s such a sweet, domestic moment that you almost don’t want to interrupt.

“Do you have space for a kink discussion?” You settle onto the couch next to him, and pull your legs up under yourself. “Nothing bad. Just… maybe some negotiations. You can keep playing.”

He taps the controller against one of his palms, twice, then says, “Sure.”

You take a deep breath, then ask, “Have you ever heard of hucows?”

The pause menu comes up immediately, but Simon doesn’t look at you. In fact, he’s so still that you’re sure he’s stopped breathing. When he doesn’t say or do anything for a full ten seconds, you look up at him.

His face is blank, and he looks back at you from the corner of his eye.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” you whisper.

He blinks, then shakes himself back into his skin. He looks back at the television, but doesn’t resume the game. “Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been doing some research,” you answer. “And I thought you might find it… interesting.” When he looks at you again without saying anything, you confess. “And there were cow print bikinis in your search history.”

All of the air leaves Simon in a whoosh. He leans back into the couch and scrubs a hand over his face. “’M sorry. I don’t… I wouldn’t ever… You know I love you. ‘N that I respect you. I’d never-”

“Woah, woah, wait!” You grab one of his hands in yours. “Hang on. You love me, I love you. I trust you. Do you trust me?”

Simon doesn’t answer for a long moment, and then he says, without taking his hand from his face, “I trust you to be ‘onest with me. Trust you’ll accept a no. Trust you’re not g’nna yell. Trust you not to punish me if you’re upset.”

“Acknowledged,” you breathe against his bicep. “I trust you to be honest with me, too. And I trust that it’s okay to tell you if I’m not comfortable with anything we discuss or do. I trust that you won’t yell at me. I trust that you’re not going to hurt or harm me on purpose to correct my behavior. Acknowledge.”

Simon sighs, again, then peeks through his fingers at you. “Acknowledged.”

“Okay,” you say, coaxing him to release some of the tension in his shoulders. “So. I did a little research. But I just want to know for sure what you think, what you find exciting.”

He’s pink when he asks, “Y’ve seen the videos?”

“No!”

That finally makes him look at you skeptically. “No?”

“I wasn’t snooping through your stuff,” you protest. “I literally searched for a bikini on your phone and it had the little history symbol next to it. I got curious.”

“Hell of a distance between a bathing suit an’ niche kinks.”

The hint of humor in his voice gives you the permission you were waiting for. You climb into his lap and throw your legs over one of his arms. He hugs you exactly the way you want, just as loving as ever.

“So then,” he eventually says. “What did you find?”

“So much bad porn, oh my god,” you answer. “Not that the actual hucow stuff itself is bad. It’s just that the non-paywalled stuff is steeped in so much spam. And what isn’t pure spam doesn’t really seem like your kind of thing. Just… lots of humiliation and degradation and misogyny kink. Stuff you’ve already said takes you out of the mood. And if that’s sometimes the mood, that’s fine, too. I know we don’t always masturbate to things we’re usually into-”

“It’s not that,” Simon interrupts.

You’re both quiet after. You realize that his heart is racing under your hand, and your heart is beating just as fast. But he keeps holding you, and you keep petting over the dip of his collarbones.

Your stomach churns. “I shouldn’t have said the porn was bad. I’m sorry.”

“It is bad,” Simon snorts. “’S part of why I never mentioned it. Some of that shit is nasty.”

“I like nasty.”

He hums and rubs a hand over your back. “I know, beautiful. But this feels… bad. Some ‘f it… ’S ‘ard to find the words. But I didn’t want you t’ think I see you that way, that I ever want to see you that way.”

“Porn isn’t real life,” you remind him. “Things that happen in a scene that everyone consented to-”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes as you glare up at him. “Let’s not pretend that kink has no basis in reality. Our dynamic is special to me, Naya. I don’t want to… disrespect it, or you, or us, with this.”

“Okay,” you whisper, tucking your face into his neck. You take one of his hands back into yours. “We don’t have to keep talking about it, if you don’t want to. But,” you can’t help but add with a smile. “I did get cow print lingerie. And a headband. It’s got little ears and horns.”

Simon groans. “No, you didn’t.”

“I did!” You press a kiss to his chin. “I’m glad I didn’t try to surprise you with it.”

“Would’a given me an ‘eart attack.”

“That would have been fun to explain. ‘Oh gee, Captain, I didn’t think he’d like it that much.’”

“Oi,” Simon growls.

He dips down to press his lips to yours. You don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his shoulders and shift to straddle his lap. The kiss is sweet, a reassurance. Like aftercare. Maybe it is. Both of your bodies relax, until you can’t even hold yourself up to keep your lips on his. You lay your head on his shoulder with a content sigh.

You’re like that for a long time before Simon speaks again.

“Its the idea that her body… your body… could be nothing but pleasure and instinct. That I could pull pleasure from you until it would be pain not to.” He’s quiet for a moment, then continues when you don’t reply. “There’s something about it. But it’s a fantasy I never intended to bring to the bedroom. It’s… just something to think about, sometimes.”

  Simon presents the cow print bikini on a Thursday. At first, you’re confused. Then you’re amused, because a year ago you would have worked yourself into a tizzy trying to figure out what he was saying about your weight. But Simon loves your body, and you, and after months of avoiding talking about it, this is a huge step. So you stay silent, and look up at him expectantly.

“Would like to do a scene this weekend,” he says. “Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged,” you answer, biting back a smile. “What are the parameters?”

Things seem downright vanilla for the first half. A whole day of pampering - spa, nails, hair - that means he’s been planning this for a while. Your favorite, just fancy enough food for dinner, and a dessert to go. All the usual rules apply: Simon’s in charge, you promise to be honest. All in all, a perfect date night.

And then he says something that boggles your mind.

“Okay, wait. I put on the cow print, and then I can only moo? After we get home?”

“No,” he surprises you by saying. He takes a deep breath, then continues. “I want you to wear it all day. An’ you’re only allowed to moo. Except durin’ your appointments. Please don’t moo at your stylists.”

“But at dinner…”

“I’ll order for you,” He says. His eyes flick away, then back to yours. “I’ll take care of everything.”

“But we won’t talk,” you press.

His ears go pink, but he cracks a smile as he says, “I’ll talk. And it’s not a rule that you have to be silent.”

He’s embarrassed, you realize. He’s finally acting on this thing you discussed so long ago, but he’s still nervous about what you’ll think. You have to stifle the part of you that wants to coo.

“Okay,” you say, taking his hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Unless I’m using a safeword, I can just… make cow sounds. All day. Acknowledged.”

  The day of comes quickly. And then you’’e contemplating the lingerie you bought months ago. It’s much nicer than the flimsy thing Simon got, “just as ‘n experiment, no sense in wastin’ money ‘f things aren’t good as the fantasy.” The bikini he got you is… cheap. Your purchase will certainly fit under your clothes nicer.

As you pull on the silky material Simon apparently didn’t believe you actually ordered, you take a couple of deep breaths. You’re going to wear cow print for your partner. It’s not much different, you reason, from asking him to graze his knife over your skin while he watches TV. It’s not not his thing. And this isn’t exactly your thing. But you love each other. So you’ll do this thing, because his enjoyment can be yours.

Yeah.

  -

  By the end of dinner, you’re much deeper into a submissive headspace than you ever expected to be. You’re so aware of the urge to talk and the fact that you can’t. It’s a constant cue to look to Simon. More than once, you almost slip up. The words catch in your throat and you have to pivot to a lowing sound, a drawn out vowel that leaves you feeling helpless as he smiles and pets at your hand. You expect it to be maddening, but it’s not. Simon anticipates your needs so well that there’s nothing you need that he doesn’t already provide for you. All you can do is shiver at the way he gives you everything, touches you everywhere.

By the time you’re in the car home, you’re a mess. You can’t sit still, find yourself staring at the side of Simon’s face as he drives. You’re startled when he looks back at you at a red light. He reaches out and you lean in, then jump when he pinches your nipple just hard enough to make you gasp. He watches your face as he pets and plucks, chuckles as you pant and groan and moo.

When the light is green again, he stops. You’re very aware of your right breast.

At the next red, he says, “Give me the other one.”

You do.

“Sweet, pretty girl,” he praises as he tugs at you again. He hums, pleased, as you arch your back. His eyes are dark when he says, “Not wearin’ what I gave you. C’n se y’r nipples beggin’ for attention.

When you look down at yourself, heat flushes through you from your crown to your toes. He’s right, the thin bralette that you’d chosen does nothing to hide you body’s reaction to being teased. And the dress he’d picked for you was already tight around your chest…

The light turns green. You moan as he releases you and turns back to the road.

“What’re you wearin’?” He asks. When you look at him, he’s smirking. “Tell me. Wha’s my pretty girl got under her dress?”

You open your mouth, and your voice sticks. “…Moo?”

“Oh, tha’ sounds nice,” he chuckles. He takes your hand in his. “Lookin’ forward to seein’ it.”

Your thoughts and legs stumble into themselves when you finally walk through your front door. Simon doesn’t let you get far. He catches you around the neck with a big hand and brings you close for a kiss. As soon as the door is shut, his hands make their way to the back of your dress. He unzips and then guides the soft material down until it’s past your hips, and drops down to your feet.

When he pulls away to look at you, his breath catches, and his whole body goes still. You’re so caught in the way his pupils dilate that it takes you a moment to remember the bralette, the panties, the garter belt. The cow print feels like an exaggeration of itself, when you look down at your own breasts. You vaguely remember feeling silly, when you’d put them on, but you don’t remember why. Simon’s eyes are so hot when he looks at you, you can’t help but preen a bit.

“Thought you was jokin,” Simon murmurs, cupping one of your breasts in his hand. His other hand cradles your jaw and makes you look up at him when he pinches your nipple again. His thumb dips into your mouth when you gasp. “But my sweet girl don’t lie to me. An’ she’s always show ready, huh? My sweet, soft girl,” Simon murmurs, going to one knee. He takes one of your hands and kisses your knuckles before placing it on his shoulder. Then he gently lifts your calf to take one of your shoes, then the other as he says, “Not a worry in the world, an’ you still give me so much.”

Even kneeling at your feet, he takes your breath away. His hands smooth up your stockings until he can dip his fingers under the straps of your garters, then he groans. You groan with him. You never know what to do with yourself when he gets like this. Hungry. Reverent on his knees. With a sigh, you close your eyes. You don’t need to know what to do, because he does. The gravity of him makes you sway forward as he leans forward to kiss just above your belly button.

You must signal your mental shift, because Simon stands and lifts you into his arms in the same movement. He kisses your lips like he’s starving. And you try to meet him, try to put everything you haven’t been able to say into the drag of your lips against his.

I love you. Thank you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

You expect him to be rough with you, heavy handed. But Simon is gentle as he touches you all over. When he lays you on the bed, instead of diving into your chest, he keeps kissing your mouth, your neck, down to your shoulder. You can’t stifle a giggle as he sucks kisses into your bicep and down to your forearm.

“Fuck,” he growls. He takes a hold of your hips and gives you a little shake. “You’re so perfect. ‘Ips ‘n thighs ‘n this arse. So strong and still so soft for me.” He dips down to press a kiss to your hip, even as one of his hands starts pinching at your nipple through your bralette again. “Eatin’ good and’ workin’ out ‘n sleepin’ better. Gonna let me give you that life of leisure? No more workin’, pretty girl. Just whatever feels good, whatever makes you ‘appy an’ soft, whatever I c’n give you.”

You try to gasp something that might be “yes” or “please,” but it turns into another drawn out moan. It doesn’t really matter, because Simon flips you onto your hands and knees so fast that your head spins. You almost fall over, but he catches you.

“Sorry sweet girl,” he chuckles. “But you’ve got me so caught up. ‘M gonna take care of you, don’t worry. Just so pretty - distractin’ me.”

Then he’s kissing across your shoulders, then makes his way down to your hipbones. You moan and sigh as his hands grope at you. His hands squeeze at your breasts, then your belly, your thighs, back to your ass. When he bites you, you yelp and groan, arching away from his teeth and into the hands.

“Shh, pretty girl,” he hushes. “’M sorry, I’ll give you what you need. Easy, tha’s it.”

You’re surprised into a gasp by his fingers rubbing gently over your clit through your panties. His other hand eases your back down - from cat to cow, you giggle to yourself - with another shushing sound. The tension bleeds out of your spine at the sound. Simon’s got you, he’s going to take care of you.

“There you go,” Simon rumbles as you drop your head between your arms. He strokes a hand down your back as his other hand gives you just a hint more pressure. “Is that better? Feel nice an’ relaxed?”

You’re feeling less relaxed by the second. Simon knows how to touch you if he wants you to melt. This? Is not that. He’s giving you just enough to tease, to make you instinctively chase his fingers. You shake your head and whimper, shuffling your knees knees further apart and arching your back again. You don’t even try to swallow a grunt of frustration when nothing you do makes him speed up or give you more pleasure.

“Hm?” He presses his lips against your hip as he asks, “Wha’s wrong, pretty girl? You need something?”

You open your mouth to beg, then remember that you can’t say anything. This motherfucker. When you tilt your body to glare at him, his eyes are sparkling with mirth. It’s hard not to smile back, to hold your frown long enough to let him know that you know what he’s doing.

But as usual, he’s a step ahead of you. As soon as you open your mouth to moo sarcastically, he slips a finger under your panties and into you, just as his other hand shoves the bra out of the way to pinch your nipple.

“So wet,” Simon whispers against your cheek. “Took care of everything else today, but you still need more, don’t you? Greedy girl.”

You are wet, have been since before he plucked at your nipples in the car. Since dinner, when he’d explained the cut of his steak, why he liked it. Since he paused and visibly considered what he couldn’t see you wearing. Since he’d looked at you with so much hunger that you’d had to take a sip of your water to gather yourself. You couldn’t say anything, then, by his direction and your own body’s need. You couldn’t make any sound at all, had practically ground your teeth together so you wouldn’t moan like a whore at the table.

Your jaw isn’t clenched now. The sound you make as two thick fingers push in is exactly as obscene as you imagined it would be. They press into you exactly where you want it as his other hand sends sparks through your chest and down your spine. Simon echoes you, breath hot against your face. You can’t keep yourself from chasing his lips with yours.

“Yeah,” he pants between biting kisses. He growls when you rock back into his fingers, and pinches your nipple until you gasp. “Settle, Bambi, ‘m gonna take care o’ you.”

His words melt you. Even as he ratchets your body into more tension, you believe him, and the promise alone is nearly a relief. When he pulls his fingers free, you don’t even think to protest. All you can do is hang your head between your arms and try to catch your breath. Something like a sob scrapes it’s way from your throat when he pushes back in with three.

The sound of Simon undoing his belt makes you tip your hips back and up, automatic. He groans again, deep in his throat, and slaps the meat of your ass. The sharp sting of it reminds you to be almost embarrassed, and you drop to your elbows to bury your face in the bedding.

“There you go,” Simon grunts as he lines himself up. He pushes in slow, so slow, as you pant and writhe and make animal sounds. One of his huge hands comes down to grip the back of your neck as he grunts and shoves deeper. “There’s my sweet girl. Shouldn’t’a kept you waiting. You can take it now, tha’s it.” He leans down, pushing just that little bit deeper as he plucks at your nipple again. He growls against your shoulder, “Gonna do this every day, yeah? Quit your job so I c’n keep you soft like this all the time. Breed you up proper, bet y’re gonna taste so sweet when your milk comes, when it’s all y’ve got to do, just a life of milk ‘n honey.”

You almost can’t make out what he’s saying over the sound of your own noises and the wet sounds of him pushing in and out of you. The fireworks up and down your spine have you writhing back into his thrusts. You can tell he’s rambling, that he’s so lost in your bodies that he’s losing control of his mouth. A change in angle has you crying out again, every nerve on fire as he pushes into you just right. The orgasm that had been building steadily rushes over you. It’s impossible to stop, shakes through your limbs until you collapse onto your chest under him.

“Tha’s it,” Simon hisses, pace steady and devastating as he chases you down to the mattress. “This what you need? Need t’ be bred an’ fucked ‘til you can’t think of nothin’ else? Yeah, tha’s what you need. Gonna make you come on my cock again, fill you up the way you like. Then I’ll hook you up, huh? Can’t leave you wantin’ jus ‘cause I need a break. C’n put a pump at each o’ your tits an’ keep fuckin’ you with a machine, too, ‘til I’m ready to go again, yeah?

Jesus, you think, giggling under him. Your pussy flutters as he gasps something else you can’t quite make out over the rushing in your ears. He wants to ruin you. You want him to, to do all of these things he’s growling about. The thought that he might is thrilling and terrifying, that after he comes and breeds you full he could go to the closet and pull out the machine and the dildo you bought for when he’s deployed to keep fucking you…

Your stomach swoops as you get caught up in your own fantasy. He doesn’t have to stop. You’d be too weak to fight him. And if he tied you up, bound you where he wants to keep you, he could do whatever he wants. Did he actually have a pump, something to pull at your nipples while he watched across the room? Would this be the time he finally surprises you with something you hadn’t quite negotiated? He could, he could, you’d let him, you’d beg-

“Simon!”

The second orgasm hurts. It hits so fast and hard on the heels of the first. You can vaguely feel the wetness running down your thighs as you squirt, legs shaking. Above you, Simon goes abruptly silent as he comes, breath coming out in barely-there grunts as his cock kicks and twitches inside of you.

All of the air huffs out of your lungs as he partially collapses on you. Another giggle stutters out of you. It turns into a moan as he guides your legs down and open so he can grind into you some more until you’re prone. His own gentle chuckle tickles your ear.

“Fuckin’ ell,” he pants. The arm that’s braced to keep his weight off of you shakes a bit. “Gimme… fuck, gimme a minute. ‘Ll get up in a mo’.”

“Mmm,” you hum, kissing at his wrist. You tip your head back to grin up at him. “Moo.”

He crushes you a bit when his laughter makes him fall, but you can’t even pretend to be upset.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Editing Part ????: Final Steps (That You'll Repeat)

HI THIS POST WAS SUPPOSED TO GO UP IN JANUARY. Uuuh things. Are happening. In the US. Alas.

ANYWAY, to wrap up our editing tips. Some of this you'll do on your own, some of it you'll need feedback on, a lot of it is going back and forth between various edits. It is a process.

Tone and Voice

In review, is your character's voice consistent? Do they remain solid as a character, or do they wildly change in how they speak and act in the middle of the book for no reason?

When it comes to tone, are you writing with a consistently used vocabulary and structure? I'm not talking about dialogue - does your story feel the same, no matter if it's in third person or first?

A tonal shift or word change might happen if you've been working a long time on a project, and that's just a matter of going back through the book to make sure things match up.

Tension and Pacing

Does the action rise and fall naturally? Are your characters given room to breathe when appropriate?

Have you resolved (or addressed) all your subplots? Did you leave any romance or relationships dangling? Are there any chunks of your book that feel like a side-quest that doesn't contribute to the rest of the plot?

How is your scene pacing? Like your book, your scenes can't be 100% tension - they need to rise and fall. Fights and action should build naturally. If you're dropping a character into a situation with no foreshadowing, or if they obtain some new nifty power without really earning it, you might be throwing the pacing off.

Again, this just takes going back over to see what little things you need to set up to make the pay-off worth it.

Line Edits

Hopefully you've saved this for last, I know you won't, I know I won't, but fiddling with the language is going to be better done at the very end. Look out for:

Overused Words and Phrases - I find with each project, I become overly fond of one particular word. It's useful and fantastic until it pops up a little too often, and then I need to work on changing it up. Same with phrases - if you're brain is like mind, it'll find a neat little turn of phrase and repeat that six or eight times when you only needed it once.

Hedging Words - Almost, nearly, not quite, seems, appears, etc - these words are perfectly fine in academic writing, but they weaken your descriptive work. Instead of saying "he almost hit me" for example, describe the motion and the character's reaction. If someone seems upset, how can you describe that through their body language?

Dialogue Tags - You can use fun dialogue tags, and you don't have to delete every -ly abverb attached to "said." However, as boring as it seems, keeping it simple with mostly using "said" and "replied" will do most of the job.

Re-Checking Sentence Structure - If all your sentences within a paragraph follow the same structure, your reader is likely to start to skim. Change things up with shorter sentences paired with longer ones. Chunk actions scenes with short, punchy sentences, make sure descriptive paragraphs don't have sentences that go on for way too long.

Feedback

There's no easy way to find a good critique partner. I wish there was. You can and should join writer's groups and offer exchanges, be they online or in person. Sometimes you can love someone's work, but you don't mess with them as a critique partner. It happens, keep trying.

When you do find a critique partner, it's always good to give them guidance on what you're looking for. Some good questions:

Pacing - When did they put the story down? Why?

Consistency - Was anything confusing? Did the character's choices make sense?

Plot - Where there any twists that were too obvious? Did the stakes feel important? Was the plot satisfying?

A Note on "Predictable" Plot

There is a consistent argument about predictive plots versus originality, but thinking too hard about it may lead you astray. Certain genres have expectations - cosy murders will be solved, romance will end with the leads getting together, etc. Readers often go into stories wanting some predictability, because it's the journey of the story that matters the most. Making sure the story is engaging to read is far more important than trying to be original.

That said, you'll find in your second and third drafts that you will be able to put your own design on familiar stories. Treading familiar ground in the first draft is common, but when taking another crack of it, you can raise the stakes and make that ending much more satisfying.

Good luck!

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic Yandere Demon Queen Headcannons (1)

Introduction | Part 2|

The Demon Queen is adamant that you drink from her even if you're a month off of weening

She just has to get that instinct out 

Constantly holding you against her monumental chest just like she did with her first

Unlike humans who have a nursery, demons make nests

A Soft comfortable place for her and her baby

Hers is in the deep dungeons of one of her many castles

Moving to an identical copy of her nest for wherever she feels like 

Currently, her nest is like a pod

Open and closed by a very specific spell 

The floor is a carpet of flower petals, soft, soothing, and place magically grown to keep fussy babies calm

And that’s what life’s like for you, if not in the soft chest of your new Mama

It’ll be weeks before she will actually part with you to attend her duties

Rarely does she deem any situation dire enough to leave her nest 

But when she does you’re in tow

Swaddled and likely sleeping she has a standing bassinet

Level and matching with her skull-covered throne

“Ah!”

“Yes, we’ll do the obvious thwing mwy lwove!”

“We’ll….proceed with the assassin plan?”

“YES IDIOT! Now go it smells like my baby needs a diaper change!”

Your Demon Queen Mama doesn’t care in the slightest that you’re a human

She loves how long it’s taking for you to grow just a little bit

Demon babes with their extra month in the womb spend less time getting older

Humans on the other hand have a more standard rate of growth

Which she quickly studies up on when she gets concerned that you aren’t speaking yet and can barely lift your head on your own

She proudly hold you in her arms as she speaks to her generals about your development

Her generals will often share there own knowledge about children in concern about hers

While she may scoff and wave them off 

Their concerns usually ignite something she was wondering about

“My Queen is a human babe supposed to not have teeth at this age? Perhaps they’ll need implants?”

“FOOLISH! My baby will need no such thing!”

“I see. Excuse me, my lady.”

“....Say (Y/n) will teeth somehow magically appear within here?”

“Ohhh! Baa!”

Other than the strong learning curve she adores her human baby and celebrates all your major milestones

Making sure to execute anyone who refuses you or even remotely doesn’t pretend to also be so proud

And the first that she does this to is her concubines

You didn’t think she just had this baby with some random 

No no no 

She has a total of three concubines, every now and then she’ll accept another for political purposes but it’s a known fact that they won’t last long

After all her three concubines are known as the three Reapers

One way or another making sure they are the only ones in the Queen’s bed

Something the Queen has always treasured

Loyalty with their entire being

From fear and love a volatile mix of both

The same that she has with you 

And who better to teach you about what to expect than them

She’s…cautious when it comes to you meeting them

While she can’t deny they were among the few who could be near her when she had her…..slump

She also knows their ruthlessness does not stop at rivals in love

anyone who threatens her reign, happiness, and goals they intervene 

Usually without her instruction

She worries they might do the same

But of course both scaring and exciting, the first concubine approaches first

“Oh my Queen! May I sit on the edge of your nest to see your precious baby?”

“You…may…”

She refuses to let her eldest concubine come much closer than that

Already bold to even enter the room, she’s suspicious of her

Her eldest concubine is Milune, gorgeous as she is soft

She’s the Queen’s go-to for comfort

Unbelievably soft in a world full of demons, the Queen adores the balance 

she thanks her human parents for that

“My Queen I’ve brought a specially crafted wunzie for your little one! Can they try it on?”

“They can…but I will inspect it first.”

“Of course!” 

The Queen does recall just how eager she was to help her craft her nest

Lovingly adding her unique magic to the protective spells around it

Recalling a discussion she had with her about being a mother herself

“If my Queen wished it I’d love to conceive for you! Or to handle the raising of the little one when you’re crushing all of humanity! Whatever you wish for your majesty!”

Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea to let her hold you….only once of course

“Ahh~! Look at you! Aren’t you a joy to behold!”

Milune is holding you up high and filling your face with kisses 

Making baby you laugh

The Queen is torn between happiness at her acceptance of you….and jealousy

Now beginning to master walking, she’s just sad you aren’t crawling only to her anymore

…but she figures its not that bad when she finds a gaggle of elven assassins dead bodies strewn all over the hallway

“They got far too close to the baby, my Queen! Plus the little one just got down for their nap!” 

She’s pretty sure your hearing isn’t that good but she doesn’t mind

In fact she thinks it’s great

Absolutely showering Milune in affection and more responsibility with you

“Oh little one! Come sit in mama Milune’s lap! While we watch your Mama massacre these insolent worms.”

Milune is delighted

As someone who grieved alongside the Queen, your existence brings her a similar joy

And what better way to honor her Queen and love by showering you in the same obsession her Queen adores

When she pretends that your her baby too you are

She’s certain she’d do anything for you and kill whoever she’s allied with to protect you

Including the concubines she’s made a pact with...

TBC...

[callikari]

TWEETS TO RiKi — nishimura riki

3. ARE U SERIOUS

riki sighed, standing in the doorway of rei’s dorm with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. the room smelled like a mix of fruity soju and someone’s spilled perfume, and the mess of half-empty snack bags on the table made it obvious just how much fun you and your friends had been having.

but riki wasn’t here to admire the disaster. he was here because rei had texted him, saying you were way too drunk to make it back to your dorm alone.

his eyes landed on you, curled up against the couch, lazily kicking your legs as eunchae dramatically retold a story. sohee and belle were too busy stacking empty soju bottles into some kind of architectural masterpiece to notice him, but rei, the only one who looked remotely sober, glanced up and shot him a knowing look.

“she’s not gonna make it back on her own,” rei said, motioning toward you. “you’re up, boyfriend duty.”

riki rolled his eyes. “not her boyfriend.”

rei smirked but didn’t argue. instead, she nudged you lightly. “yn, look who’s here.”

you blinked, your blurry gaze shifting up toward him. then, to his complete confusion, your face lit up.

“riki!” you cheered, a bright grin spreading across your lips as you reached your arms out toward him like a little kid.

riki blinked, caught completely off guard. what?

you had been cold to him all day. ever since this morning, when he caught you glaring at him for some reason he still didn’t understand. he had tried to joke with you at lunch—nothing. you barely said two words to him before brushing him off. he had figured you were just pissed at him about something, but now, here you were, looking at him like he just brought you the moon.

“what is wrong with you?” riki muttered, stepping closer and crossing his arms.

you just giggled, still holding your arms out. “hug.”

rei snorted, and sohee smirked from the couch. “dude, just pick her up and go before she passes out.”

riki exhaled through his nose before bending down and effortlessly scooping you into his arms. you gasped at the sudden movement, your hands automatically gripping his hoodie.

"you’re so warm,” you mumbled, nuzzling into his shoulder.

riki felt his ears heat up, but he only tightened his grip on you. “yeah, yeah. just don’t throw up on me.”

“no promises.”

eunchae cackled from the couch, and rei waved dramatically. “good luck!”

riki just rolled his eyes before heading out the door, adjusting his grip on you as he made his way down the dorm hallway. he glanced down at your sleepy face, still curled up against him, and sighed.

whatever this was about, he was gonna get answers in the morning.

the next day !! ...

you stared blankly at the messages on your screen, your brain short-circuiting. riki… carried you? back to your dorm? no way.

slowly, you turned your head, and sure enough, there he was—sitting at his desk, scrolling on his phone like it was just another morning, like he hadn’t apparently played knight in shining armor last night.

you narrowed your eyes. he thinks he can just act normal after that?

“nishimura riki,” you called, voice deadly calm.

his head lifted slightly, but his attention stayed on his phone. “yeah?”

you sat up, tossing your blanket off dramatically. “what did you do?”

now, that got his attention. he turned to look at you, an eyebrow raised. “huh?”

“don’t ‘huh’ me!” you huffed, standing up and pointing an accusing finger at him. “you carried me back here?”

riki blinked. “oh. yeah.”

oh. yeah?

you gawked at him. “that’s all you have to say?!”

he set his phone down, finally meeting your gaze with an amused smirk. “what else am i supposed to say? you were drunk off your ass and could barely stand. what, did you think i was just gonna leave you there?”

“yes!—i mean, no! i mean—ugh!” you ran a hand down your face. “you carried me, riki. do you realize how embarrassing that is?”

he shrugged, looking entirely too nonchalant for your liking. “not really.”

you grabbed your pillow and threw it at him. unfortunately, he caught it effortlessly.

“i hate you,” you muttered, flopping back onto your bed.

riki chuckled, pulling out his phone. “no, you don’t.”

previous | masterlist | next

AUTHORS NOTE — writing drunk yn was .... very hard to write !

TWEETS TO RiKi taglist — @parkjjongswifey @stormy1408 @paradiseoflosers @blodwyn4u @lov4hoon @gyuudai @kittsnewera @rikidaze @notcamii @jvngw0nlvr @r1naqv @nishikio @pkjay

© callikari -- all rights reserved

[rhyrhy]

“'Cause we're way too involved, just to cut and not call”

Situationship! Abby Drabble

࣪𖤐.ᐟ Warnings: none, just two idiots pining, fluff, 2k words. IFY This was 110% Inspired by this — more Abby here —

The sound of Abby’s door clicking shut behind you was second nature by now. You’d met her after being transferred to the WLF base. thrown into a new routine, a new home, with new faces. Eyes feeling- no, knowing you are sizing you up. And hers, Abby, had been one of them. What started as a proper passing familiarity. working the same routes, seeing her in the gym, nodding at each other across crowded mess hall tables. had turned into nights spent in her room, pretending it was casual.

But the feelings had started to bleed through…

First, it was the small things. Redoing her braid after you’d messed it up by tugging on it all night. Jokingly calling her patrol dog, your “baby” when she curled up beside you, earning a sound of amusement from Abby. Then she’d started catching your wrist before you could slip away, her fingers firm but careful. The dim glow of a lantern casting shadows across her face as she’d murmur, “It’s late. You can head back in the morning, yeah?” Now, after weeks of being apart. separate assignments. However the pit in Abby’s stomach from your absence was impossible to ignore. Too obvious to be anything other than what it was. Or what was building.

Abby was sprawled her bed, one arm tucked behind her head, a small smile on her lips as you stepped inside.

“Hey, stranger. Starting to think you forgot about me.”

You sat beside her, the mattress dipping under your weight as her arm stretched along the back, her fingertips brushing your shoulder, resting on the fabric of your shirt. This was supposed to be easy. No strings attached. But as she laughed, her gaze lingering on yours, something soft and knowing in her expression, she realized you both were in trouble.

in deeper than either of you would admit.

“Forget about you? Please, never.” You joked, bumping her shoulder with yours. Truth was, you couldn’t even dream of forgetting about her.

Abby humed, tilting her head to the side. Her braid following her small movement. “You say that now, but you haven’t even bothered to check in for almost three weeks.” There was tease lilt to her tone, but a small part of her was beginning to wonder if maybe you’d decided she wasn’t worth the trouble after all. Trying to push that past relationship troubles take over.

“Really?” You furrowed your eyebrows, thinking back to how long it had actually been. It clicked She was…counting? Regardless she was right. yes, it had been awhile. “Oh… shit, I’m sorry, Abs. Got busy, I guess?” You rubbed your arm, glancing over at her. It was a weak statement but it’s all you could mutter out.

Abby rolled her eyes, nudging you with her knee. “Busy, huh? Couldn’t even leave a note or something?” She gave you a pointed look, pouting dramatically. “Im offended.” But as she took in your sheepish expression, her gaze softened. Her bottom lip out.

“Hey! Don’t do that. You’re a horrible communicator too, and you know it,” you chuckled, reaching out to tilt her face toward you with a finger under her chin. Scanning over the new scar on the side of her cheek.

Abby scoffed, still faking offense. “Oh, so now it’s my fault, huh?”

She smirked as your fingers gently lifted her chin, her eyes meeting yours. A familiar spark flickered between you, something that felt like it was always standing behind you. Looming.

You nodded jokingly, scanning her face again. “Mhm. I’m soo not taking accountability here.”

Abby rolled her eyes again, but there was a mischievous glint in them. She pouted again, though this time it was clearly more playful than serious. “Oh really? I see how it is.” She leaned into your touch, her voice much quieter than before. Fingers twitching to reach over and hold you more.

You chuckled, brushing a few loose strands of hair behind her ear before cupping her face. “Oh Yeah? You do?”

Abby’s teasing melted away the moment your hands settled on her skin. Your touch was too gentle, too easy, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She knew she should keep things light, keep up the playful air, but the way you were looking at her? Like she meant something? It was fucking terrifying. You always looked at her like that, always.

“Earth to Andersonnnn,” you teased, your thumb caressing over her cheek. Eyes on hers, like you were trying to read her thoughts.

Abby blinked, cheeks tinged with a rush of heat. She let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Sorry, got lost in thought for a second.” Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, savoring the feel of your touch. It felt too natural. Too safe.

“I see that,” you hummed, shifting along the couch until you settled onto her lap, resting on her thighs. “Whatcha thinking about, hm?”

Abby’s hands instinctively found your hips, her grip firm but careful. The warmth of you against her sent a flood of emotions rushing through her. Ones she’d been trying to ignore for weeks, months. Ever since you first kissed her if she being completely honest with herself. Your arms around her neck, the soft sigh you let out. it wouldn’t leave her, ever.

She exhaled, her fingers absentmindedly skimming the hem of your shirt. “Nothing. Just… stuff.”

“Stuff,” you repeated, unconvinced. You sighed, resting your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of pine. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop by sooner. But I… I thought about you.” Your voice was quieter now. “I promise.”

Abby’s breath caught as you nuzzled closer, her fingers tracing lazy circles along your back. She closed her eyes, relishing in your warmth, in the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against her. Worried hers was loud enough for you to hear.

“I thought about you too,” she admitted, barely above a hush. More than she should have. More than she wanted to. But admitting that meant something, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to face what that was. It screamed at her, little did she know it was mutual annoyance. That nagging to just face what was happening, like taking the sun away from a blooming flower. Forcing the petals to stay shut. She swallowed hard, gripping your waist just a little tighter.

“No, Abs… like, really missed you.” You sighed, pressing a small kiss to her shoulder before leaning back to meet her eyes. “Like more… than I should.”

Abby’s heart thumped at your words. She averted her gaze, trying to shove down the overwhelming feeling creeping up her throat. But when she felt your lips against her skin, her resolve broke. She looked at you then. really looked at you. That look you’d always given her whether you knew you were doing it or not. Your face, so open, so…unguarded. A expression she hadn’t yet memorized.

“More than you should?” she echoed, voice barely above a whisper.

You sighed, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling. A thousand words wanted to spill but the only one you let fall was..

“Yeah.”

A long silence stretched between you, those heavy with unspoken words.

The warm of her fingers traced slow invisible patterns along your waist, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions she didn’t know how to name. Or if she should. She took a deep breath, exhaling shakily before finally admitting, “I… I’ve missed you too. More than I should.”

You glanced back down at her, a small sigh of relief escaping your lips. “Not just me then?” you murmured, resting your forehead against hers, feeling the warmth of her breath against your skin.“Good… I feel better about that.”

Abby closed her eyes, savoring the weight of you against her, the way your fingers danced along her arm like this was something much more. “No, not just you,” she murmured, her voice softer now. She opened her eyes, searching your face for something. reassurance, maybe. A sign that this wasn’t just in her head.

You chuckled, running a hand along her arm. “I mean, you are so cute. How could I not think about your stupid face?”

Abby let out a short laugh, swatting at your arm. The tension eased just slightly. “Oh, you’re one to talk, Miss ’Too Busy to Check In,’” she teased.

“Oh, shut up! Now I’ll find you every day just to spite you. How’s that?” You grinned, tilting her face up once more, Faces much closer than before.

Abby huffed, pretending to be put off, but her heart was hammering against her ribs. “You better. I’ll be waiting for it. Every single time. No pressure, though.” She smiled, raising an eyebrow at you as your hands cupped her face. “Oh? And what else? Gonna bring me flowers too?”

You scoffed, arching a brow back at her. “Oh? What kind of flowers would Miss Anderson want?”

She pretended to think about it, tapping her chin before grinning. “Lilies. The white ones.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Lilies? That’s real romantic, Abby.” you hummed. “But I like the idea. It’s a deal then. ilies for your time.”

Abby chuckled, playfully swatting your arm. “Oh, so now it’s a trade? Fine, You’ve got yourself a deal.” Her fingers idly traced the back of your neck as she softened, her gaze stamped on yours.

“Good. You don’t have a choice anyway.” You leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “Now, can I kiss you, or are we just gonna flirt until the sun comes up?”

Abby pretended to think about it, her fingers still playing with the hem of your shirt. “Hmm… such a hard choice.” She whispered back, but the hunger in her eyes betrayed her.

“I think I’ll go with option one. C’mere.”

[loilooloo]

☽｡⋆ debonair pt. 1

🐈‍⬛ chat noir x reader

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ syn: you knew chat noir was hopelessly in love with Ladybug already, but you just couldn’t help falling for him, even if it meant getting your own feelings hurt.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ author’s note: many of you who have followed me since last year know this isn’t the usual fan base I write for, but I’ve been so into miraculous lately. I hope those of you who enjoy the show enjoy this too.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ content warning: nothing graphic! All villains are made up and so is the storyline!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

𐙚 background:

It’s officially been a year since you received your miraculous; that fateful day when you bumped into master Fu. He granted you your miraculous, and along with that you met your Kwami Roaar, the Kwami of elation, aka your biggest supporter and best friend. You hit it off right away and being granted the miraculous was the best thing that has ever happened to you. Before that, you were just an average student at Françoise Dupont.

But now you fight villains alongside your partners, Ladybug and Chat Noir whom you both admire. It’s been just the three of you until recently. Ladybug has been leaving you and Chat to fight the villain alone while she leaves to hand out miraculous’ to your other hero counterparts. She’s been leaving you guys out in way, completely deserting you and Chat in the dark. You could tell she was in constant stress due to Shadow Moth’s increasing powers and her new role as guardian so you didn’t pry or speak out as much as Chat did.

𐙚 monday:

You shut your alarm off annoyed since you had only gotten 4 hours of sleep due to fighting an akumatized villain all night. The fact you had school made your mood decline even more! You quickly got dressed before saying goodbye to your mom. You walked to school as always and admired the view before catching up with your friend Marinette. “Hey Marinette! How are you?” You exclaimed. You had apparently frightened her since she jumped and yelled, classic Marinette.

M: “Oh hey y/n!! I’m good, and you?”

You chuckled to yourself after seeing her usual klutzy behavior.

Y: “I’m good, just a bit tired.”

M: “Ha yeah, tell me about it.”

Y: “Did you have a long night too?” You asked

M: “Something like that.” She replied

The two of you reached school and started walking to class before meeting with Alya. School was boring… as always and you snoozed through class as you always did. That was until Roaar emerged from your pocket.

“Sleeping again y/n? I told you, you have to start paying attention in class so your grades don’t slip!” Said Roaar.

“Roaar, you know you’re not supposed to be out right now!” You said worriedly, quickly shoving her in your pocket. You sat up because you knew Roaar was right, but started zoning out until school had finally ended. You were so relieved as you packed your bags.

Alya and Marinette approached your desk. “How about some ice cream, girls?” She asked. “And I convinced Nino to bring Adrien ;)” she slyly whispered to Marinette who immediately began blushing and stammering her words. Although Marinette’s admiration for Adrien was supposed to be a secret between the girls, she made it quite obvious due to her aggressive blushing and… interesting behavior around him. “Sure why not!” You reply to Alya. “Great! The boys will meet us there.” Said Alya.

The three of you walk to the ice cream parlor and begin to order. You can see Marinette looking around for Adrien, sooo discreetly. You laugh to yourself before spotting Nino and Adrien. “Hey Marinette, I think there’s someone behind you.” You said. She quickly turned around to see Adrien and her face turned cherry red. “That’s a new shade” you thought to yourself. After everyone ordered, you all sat down and enjoyed some ice cream while discussing school and video games.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. time skip ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

You had just gotten home before you heard the news reporting a new akumatized villain. You quickly jumped into action. “Roaar, stripes on!” You said before jumping out your window to find the villain. You met up with Chat Noir and Ladybug on a rooftop near where the villain was attacking. “Looks like we have a villain and a sentimonster in our hands” said Ladybug as she pointed to a demonic-looking girl followed by a giant spider. “Yuck!” You cringed at the disgusting spider?? Thing?? “Let’s just get this over with I can’t stand spiders!” You said. “Oh I thought you had no fears Plumera” Chat said, teasing you. “I just can’t stand spiders! They’re so hairy, just like you and your hairballs Chat.” You said smirking. “Enough talking, let’s get into action.” Said Ladybug, sternly.

You gave each other a determined look and sprung into action. Chat jumped on the spider, attempting to stop it from causing more damages as Ladybug went straight for the akumatized villain. The villain quickly shot lasers at Ladybug but she dodged every single one. You looked to Chat and noticed he was having some troubles with the sentimonster which was about to stomp him. You quickly dove from the ledge you were on and kicked the spiders leg, saving Chat. “Looks like you were the damsel in distress this time” you say, letting out a chuckle. “Yeah yeah, let’s not forget about the multiple times I’ve saved you on a mission.” He replied. “Hmm? There aren’t enough times to remember” you snorted. You both heard Ladybug scream and quickly turned to her. You saw that the akumatized villain had trapped her and was about to laser her. Chat quickly saved her and swooped her up. “Yet another save m’lady” you heard him say flirtatiously. You couldn’t help but feel jealous. You knew Chat was in love with Ladybug, but that couldn’t stop you from crushing on him, even though you didn’t want to. Truth be told you were jealous of Ladybug. Jealous of all the nicknames she would get called by Chat, jealous of how much power she held over him, and most of all jealous of how much she meant to Chat. There were many instances the two completely forgot about you during a mission which in turn led for them to get closer.

You sighed before jumping on the roof, regrouping with them. There were many times you felt that the trio should’ve been a duo, and those emotions got stronger any time you saw Chat and Ladybug low-key flirting. You pushed your thoughts aside as you walked towards the two superheroes. “Get it together Plumera” you whispered to yourself.

“This villain is too powerful, looks like we’ll need the help of my lucky charm!” Ladybug called.

The charm blessed Ladybug with… a pot of honey? You all looked at each other confused. “Maybe the spider wants a sweet treat.” Said Chat. “Maybe the honey is used to attract bees to the villain so she’ll get stung! Aha!” You theorized. “Stung…?” Said Ladybug. “I’ve got it! I just need you two to stall a bit!” Ladybug said as she yo-yo’d away. “Ugh again!” Chat said annoyed. “We have to trust her.” You replied.

C: “But how? She does this all the time! Always disappearing. And lately she keeps adding new heroes on the team.. it’s like we’re not even a duo, I mean trio anymore!” He said.

A duo, you thought. A duo, not a trio…. A duo.

Chat saw your face and knew you were upset. He realized how much his abrupt sentence had hurt you.

C: “I didn’t mean to.. you know what I meant..” said Chat.

“It’s fine” you mutter before jumping at the villain. But it wasn’t fine. You were enraged. Your emotions completely taking over you. You began charging at the villain and attacking, the two of you exchanging kicks. You dodged lasers left and right. You could feel yourself becoming tired but centered your energy and continued to battle. You saw Chat in the distance fighting the giant spider, and it looked like he was losing real bad. “Ladybug hurry up” you muttered, grunting as the villain picked you up and threw you down.

You were getting weak and the villain could see that. She sent a final strike your way, a giant laser beam. You put all your energy together and ran towards it. “Clout!” You screamed as you threw a punch at the laser. You greatly overpowered the villain and she fell to the ground. You found the akumatized object, an Erlenmeyer flask in her hand. Ladybug arrived just in time to release the evil akuma. She had a friend with her, it was Vesperia. “Great seeing you again Plumera!” Vesperia exclaimed. You breathlessly nodded, not being able to fully respond properly as you were extremely weak. “Plumera, go recharge your Kwami, we need all hands on deck to fight this sentimonster.” Said Ladybug. You nodded and ran to the nearest ally.

“Roaar, stripes off.” You grunted. You hand Roaar a piece of durian and she looked at you concerned. “Are you okay y/n you seem a bit down.” She said. “Did Chat and Ladybug leave you out again?” She asked, with an angry expression on her face. You sighed. “Something like that.” You looked down, waiting for her to finish eating. “Y/n, please don’t give up! I know how much you want to be with Chat, so just try your best to focus on the goal, okay?” She said. “Okay, I’ll try, but for now, Roaar, stripes on!” You said, ready to fight yet again.

You jumped to Ladybug, she had just sent Vesperia to a secure hiding spot. “Chat will trip the spider with his stick, and while it’s distracted, Vesperia will hit it with venom. I want you to hit it with your clout after, okay? It’ll be the final blow.” Said Ladybug. You nodded and jumped to a nearby area. You waited until Chat started the plan, and began preparing yourself. You saw Vesperia hit the sentimonster with her venom and after that you charged for action. “Clout!!!” You screamed as you jumped at the spider.

The sentimonster was finally taken down. You let out a sigh. “I can’t wait to get home.” You said to yourself. Ladybug set the feather free and fixed everything with her miraculous ladybugs. You all regrouped on a rooftop and put your fists together. “Pound it!” You all exclaimed. “I have to take Vesperia’s miraculous back now before I transform back. See you guys next time!” Said Ladybug.

As you were about to leave, you heard Chat calling you. “Plumera, wait! Don’t go yet.” He said. You were annoyed and most of all tired! All you wanted was to just go home and lay on your bed. You rolled your eyes before turning around. “Why? So you can leave me out of your ‘duo’ again?” You asked.

C: “You know I didn’t mean it like that”

Y: “Then how did you ‘mean it?’”

C: “I-i just wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry Plumera. You know Ladybug and I are so grateful to have you on the team.”

You looked down, trying not to break. “Yeah.. sure. I’ll see you next time.” You said before heading home. “Plumera- WAIT!!!” You heard him yell, but you weren’t listening.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ author’s note: yall want a pt. 2?? Sorry not sorry for the angst!

[raikiriwolfwrites]

Bitterness, Sweetened by Your Lips

An innocent request from Rook leads to some quality time together, with an unexpected outcome.

Enby RookxLucanis

Chapter 4 - Worth Waiting For

Read on AO3

The sound of the dining hall door opening pulls Lucanis out of his reverie, his gaze leaving the crackling flames as he turns to face his guest. He already knows who it is, the steady footfalls as familiar to him as breathing. He greets Rook with a small smile as they round the table, leaning against it opposite his place by the fire.

Rook looks too focused on something for this to be a purely social call, he tilts his head as he enquires. “What can I help you with?”

Rook runs a hand through their hair, chuckling lightly. “Is it that obvious that I want something?”

Lucanis shrugs nonchalantly. “You have a look.”

They grin as they meet Lucanis’ eyes. “Trust a master assassin to know my tells. Speaking of…there is a favour I wanted to ask of you.”

Lucanis pushed off the wall to face them fully, needing Rook to understand the depths of his sincerity as he answered. “It is no favour. You have done more for me than I could hope to repay. Anything in my power to do, is yours.”

Rook laughs bashfully, hand running through their hair once more before giving Lucanis a soft look. “You don’t owe me anything, but thank you. And I don’t think this is quite that big of an ask to earn such a declaration.”

“Regardless, name it, and it is done.”

“…I wanted to ask if you would train with me.”

Lucanis blinks in surprise at the simple ask, but Rook continues before he can say anything.

“Well, train me, I suppose.” They take a breath, preparing, before an avalanche of words starts tumbling out. “Your blade work is breathtaking, I know my way around a fight, but my training was more ‘try not to die’ than technical skill. Facing the enemies we are, I need to be at my best. So I wanted to learn from the best. But you don’t just fight, your blades dance-”

Lucanis feels a heat rising to his face as they go on, flustered and flattered in equal measure, not sure how to react to either. Thankfully Rook has a slightly faraway look, clearly reminiscing over past fights as they talk. He admires the bright enthusiasm in their eyes as they gesticulate, emphasising movements with their hands.

He clears his throat, hoping his flush is concealed in the dim light. His voice still feels thick as he interrupts. “I already said I would do whatever you asked, flattery is not required.”

Rook breaks out of whatever zone they had slipped into, taking a moment to process his words before a delighted smile lights up their face. Lucanis feels the flush returning at bearing the full force of such radiance. He truly would do anything Rook asked of him if he got to witness that expression every time. He can only be grateful that he knows Rook is too kind to ask something of him that he wouldn’t want to do, or he would be in trouble.

They breathe out a grateful, “Thank you.” Before looking away, considering. “When is a good time?”

He debates for a second. “I have no immediate plans if you don’t?”

“Now?” Rook stands up, smile back in full force. Lucanis can’t help but find their eagerness endearing. He nods.

“If you have nothing more pressing?” At the gentle shake of Rook’s head he continues. “Change into something comfortable to train in, grab your gear and meet me back here then.”

Rook’s palm is warm through his shirt where it gently grasps his bicep. With another earnest, “Thank you.” they’re walking briskly out the door again.

Lucanis feels an equal, if unfamiliar, eagerness at getting to spend more time with Rook. He mentally shakes himself, trying to focus. Taking the final sip of his coffee, forgotten amidst the conversation, he heads into the pantry to change.

-----

Back in their room, Rook quickly strips out of their casual clothes, grabbing a loose navy shirt to wear with a pair of their older, well worn, trousers. Reaching into the bottom of the wardrobe, they grab a clean rag, their mageknife, and a duller training blade just in case. Eying a cloth bundle nestled in the corner, they debate for a moment. Reaching a decision with a pleased hum, they pick it up and add it to the pile.

Filling up their water skin from the bowl of water in the corner that always seems to have a fresh supply, they pick up all their gear and stride out the door, steps light.

Opening the dining hall door a few minutes later, they’re greeted by Lucanis, lounging against the stairs. A soft looking black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows is tucked into his usual leather trousers from his armour. Rook takes a moment to appreciate how deliciously snug they are when not obscured by the other layers he usually wears. Legs strong, but lithe. He’s empty handed and Rook looks at him curiously as he steps forward.

Lucanis chuckles at their confused expression, gesturing with his head to the stairs leading up. “Follow me.”

Acquiescing, they follow Lucanis up the steps. Expecting to be led out onto the balcony, their steps falter when they reach the top, realising that there was another set of steps nestled away. Leading up further, over the pantry. They see Lucanis' shoulders twitch in suppressed laughter at their surprised, “huh?”.

There’s mirth dancing in his eyes as he turns to glance back at Rook. “No one ever seems to come in from that side, I don’t think anyone else has noticed it either.”

Thinking back, he’s right. They haven’t been up there since they first got to the Lighthouse and explored. They usually come straight through the front door, beelining straight to either food, or Lucanis, or to the chairs in the corner to chat with the others.

At the top of the short flight of steps, Lucanis pushes open a door and steps inside, holding it for Rook as they walk out into an open space, eyes wide as they take it in.

“Well that explains why you didn’t have anything on you.” Rook says, still cataloguing the room.

It covers the whole width of the dining hall, extending out past the back wall of the pantry below. Rook wonders how they never noticed it. The ceiling is high, probably high enough that Lucanis could comfortably fly around on Spite’s wings if he wanted to, and crisscrossed with sturdy wooden beams. On the left, a hip high balcony the only barrier between the arena and the open, endless expanse of the Fade beyond. Weapon racks, targets, and training dummies line the wall to the right. Every type of weapon imaginable on display. Rook wonders if Lucanis truly trains with all of them, or if the strange magic of the Lighthouse is just generous in supplying anything one might need.

“It wasn’t here when I first arrived.” Lucanis admits from Rook’s shoulder, watching them take in the space. “I had been training out in the courtyard, when you were all asleep, or on missions, and was thinking how much I missed having proper space for it. Last week I was out on the balcony-“

“Brooding?” Rook cuts in cheekily, shooting him a sidelong glance.

Lucanis continues as if uninterrupted, but bumps his shoulder into Rook’s as he walks past, towards a bench next to the nearest weapon rack. “-and when I walked in, those stairs were there.” He gestures back behind them.” And then there’s suddenly this space up here, exactly what I needed. I’ve been training up here since.” Lucanis picks up a pair of daggers from the bench and turns back to Rook. “I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to this strange Fade place, but I can’t deny it’s useful. And well stocked.” He says waving a blade towards the wall of equipment.

Rook followed and placed their bundle of gear on the bench before straightening and facing Lucanis, laser focused. “So, what’s first?”

He flips the dagger in his off hand, grasping the flat of the blade to offer it to Rook, hilt first. They grip it firmly, the faint warmth from Lucanis’ palm still lingering on the worn leather.

“Warm up, and footwork.” He replies, leading Rook out into the centre of the space. “We have basic forms drilled into us from childhood, they get your body used to the movements. The footwork is vital, a solid foundation for everything else to build from.”

Rook listened to his explanation with rapt attention, enjoying the smooth cadence of his voice.

“I will demonstrate slowly through the first set a few times, follow my movements to get the feel for it.”

Rook nods firmly in understanding and Lucanis turns so his back is to Rook, they see his shoulders rise in a deep inhale, before relaxing into the first stance on the exhale. Rook slides into the same stance, this much familiar, at least. Lucanis glances back briefly, meeting Rook’s eyes.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Facing forward again he begins. Slowly he works through a short set of moves, Rook watching his back intently and trying to mirror them. After a few runs, they start to get into the rhythm of it, feeling more confident; after a few more, Lucanis moves away, gesturing for Rook to continue as he circles, analysing Rook’s form.

They try to focus on the movement of their body, the push and pull of muscle, the shifting of balance, instead of the feeling of Lucanis’ eyes roving over them. Having Lucanis’ undivided focus drawing out a heat unrelated to the physical exertion. Warm hands provided gentle correction. They almost want to make more mistakes to feel his touch again, but the urge to prove their worth is stronger. A few more circles and an impressed hum signal Lucanis’ contentment with the work so far and he slips back into place in front of Rook, picking up the pace.

-----

Lucanis runs them through various basic forms in much the same way. It’s almost meditative working through them, they could almost let their mind drift if they weren’t so intent on watching the man in front of them. Getting to admire Lucanis’ body moving so closely is an exquisite torture, his power and grace evident in every step and twist. If they spend more time admiring bare forearms than strictly necessary to learn the movement as he cuts through the air with his blade, sweat starting to glisten in the dark dusting of hair as muscles flex underneath, then that’s nobody’s business but their own.

-----

Lucanis isn’t sure which is worse. When he’s critiquing Rook: watching the pull of fabric across taut muscles, the glimpses through the deep v of their shirt shifting as they move, the heat of their skin as he nudges their body into the correct positions. But facing away as he demonstrates, he sees Spite prowling from the corner of his vision, observing Rook in his stead. It’s a fight to keep his movements controlled and steady with Spite’s commentary.

Rook. BEAUTIFUL. When they. Fight.

Deadly. Fierce.

We make. Stronger.

FIGHT. Together.

He materialises in Lucanis’ space, Lucanis having to force himself not to break the steady movements, trying to ignore him in the hopes he’ll get bored.

They watch. Us.

He leers at Lucanis, before looking away over his shoulder at Rook.

Want. Us.

Lucanis squeezes his eyes closed, trying to will Spite away and lose himself in the familiar routine. Thankfully Spite falls silent, seemingly content for now with just watching.

-----

It’s hard to tell how much time has passed in the Fade, but Lucanis is fairly sure it’s been a couple of hours as they round off the session with some light sparring, more a playful tussle with blades than anything serious. He can’t remember the last time training was anything other than a strict regime to hone himself, or something to occupy his mind and body when he needed to feel in control. But with Rook he’s felt comfort, having someone he trusts working alongside him, a sense of pride as they pick up the movements and become more confident. And he can’t deny the spark of warmth in his gut just from watching Rook work.

Shirts cling to sweaty skin as they both take deep drinks of water. Breath slowing and bodies cooling as they sit side by side on the bench, a line of warmth connecting them as their thighs press together.

Turning his head, Lucanis watches Rook wipe the sweat off their exposed skin with the rag they brought. “You did well, we’ll make a Crow of you yet.”

They laugh softly, offering up the dry end of the cloth for him to use. “You’re a good teacher. I’ve never felt so…aware of my movements. No wonder you’re so good at what you do, you have so much control.” They take another drink then look hopefully back up at Lucanis. “I would love to do this again. If you’ll have me?”

As if he could deny Rook anything. Wiping down his face allows him a second to break eye contact and collect himself. He meets Rook’s gaze again with a sincere smile.

“I would enjoy that. It’s been a long time since I trained with anybody…It’s been nice.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes longer. Rook seems deep in thought, but content, and Lucanis enjoys the simple presence of them beside him.

Taking a deep breath he rises fluidly to his feet. “I think we’ve earned a hearty lunch. Let me go wash up and put something together for us.”

Rook stood hastily and gently grabbed his forearm as he was turning away, prompting him to face them, cocking a curious brow in their direction.

“One moment…there was something I wanted to give you.” Lucanis misses the calloused palm as it retreats, Rook moving to the end of the bench to pick up the cloth bundle they’d brought with them. Returning to present it to him, laid across their palms. They looked almost nervous, not quite meeting his eyes as they explained further. “I was waiting for the right moment, and now seemed like a good time.”

Lucanis lifted the wrapped bundle from their hands with care, the weight surprising him as Rook’s hands fell away. As soon as it was in his palms, he had a suspicion as to what it was; the shape and balance of a blade even more familiar than the smell of fresh coffee to him.

Glancing up, Rook was watching him intently now, eyes flicking across his face as he starts to unfold the fabric. He feels his eyes widen. Curiosity morphs into disbelief, being swiftly overtaken with almost childlike wonder as he reveals the blade fully.

“A wyvern tooth dagger?” His smile is probably giddy as he looks back up at Rook. He briefly catches their face softening before he’s back admiring the dagger, running a reverent finger along its delicate detailing, then up to test its wickedly sharp edge. The cloth flutters to the ground, unnoticed by him, as he finishes turning the dagger over in his hands in wonderment. “I loved wyverns as a boy. Caterina would never let me have one of these, though. I begged for her to let me have one as a pet. She said no. Obviously.”

-----

Rook watches the emotions wash over Lucanis’ face, not sure why they’re so nervous about the gift. They just needed him to know that they appreciated him. That while he thinks about everyone else, makes sure they are all taken care of, that he deserves that too.

They’re glad they waited for this private moment to hand it over, able to fully soak in the uninhibited delight overtaking Lucanis’ features, stare with adoring fondness as he handles the dagger almost reverently, touch gentle as he traces the etched filigree. His eyes shone, boyish with unrestrained emotion, as they periodically flickered up to Rook’s while he talked, not able to pry them from the dagger for long.

Rook’s voice is low and warm with affection, not wanting to disturb the moment by speaking too loud. “I saw you lingering on it at the market. You were getting things for everyone else, I couldn’t go without getting something for you too.” They admitted softly.

Lucanis apparently finishes his appreciation of the dagger for now, giving Rook his full attention. A glimmer of understanding as he thinks back to that trip to Treviso. “At the market…when you stayed behind?”

Rook nods mutely. Lucanis’ jaw works faintly as his eyes flick to the blade, as if he can’t decide what to say.

Rook places a warm hand on forearm, thinking they could both use the grounding touch. “It looked like you wanted it, but held yourself back. I wanted to make sure you knew that you deserve the things you want, not just the things you need.”

Lucanis released a quiet, punched out breath, searching Rook’s eyes for…something.

Rook feels their heart pounding against their ribs as they continue, Lucanis’ intense scrutiny different from when they were training earlier. “And now seemed like a good time. You agreed to help me train, and I wanted you to know how much I appreciate yo-“

A soft pair of lips cuts them off.

They’re frozen for a fraction of a second as the realisation sets in, the press of warmth and soft tickle of bristles long fantasised about, but nowhere near as perfect as the real thing.

Lucanis pulls away, feet settling back on the ground from the tiptoes he had to stand on to stretch up to Rook’s mouth. But Rook follows him down, hand cupping the side of his face softly as they lean down and lips meet again. Rook’s free hand reaches out for Lucanis’ waist, thumb circling absentmindedly. One of Lucanis’ still grips the dagger, holding it off to the side, away from vulnerable bodies. The other finds a home in Rook’s hair as he presses eagerly against Rook’s lips. Enthusiastic, if not experienced. Lips part, foreheads pressed together. Rook’s hum of contentment at Lucanis’ blunt fingernails scratching at their scalp breathed out across his lips, luxuriating in the closeness. Rook’s eyes opened to gaze down into Lucanis’, panting a soft laugh into the shared space between their lips.

“So you liked your present then?” They muttered softly, eyes creased in a blend of amusement and affection.

Lucanis pulled away, hand in their hair sliding down to caress the edge of their jaw, eyes molten. “The…appreciation is mutual.”

Lucanis can surely feel how fast their heart is beating as his hand slides down to their chest, calluses scratching deliciously on the bare skin exposed by their half open shirt. They wait, watching him with gentle affection as his eyebrows crease, clearly trying to figure out how to word something, content to feel Lucanis against them.

He seems to deliberate for a few more seconds before he speaks, soft and hesitant. “Rook…I haven’t done this before.” He looks away, uncertainty colouring his expression. Rook rubs a thumb soothingly across his cheek, hoping to reassure. He steels himself with a breath, hand moving from their chest to grasp the one on his cheek. Rook lets him commandeer it willingly. He meets their eyes as he brings Rook’s hand to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to their knuckles. Rook’s stomach flutters at the gentle brush. His breath tickles across their hand as he continues. “I want…this...but…I fear you may need to be patient with me.”

He seems almost guilty at the admittance. Rook’s heart stutters as Lucanis seems to close off, as if already anticipating rejection. They can’t let him feel any doubt, and the flicker of resignation that crosses his face as they pull their hand from Lucanis’ feels like a cord tightening around their heart. But the soft exhale of relief as they pull him firmly into their chest, arms winding tight around him, relaxes that cord, in time with the release of tension they feel through Lucanis’ body. His face comes to nestle comfortably against Rook’s chest, free hand coming up to grasp loosely in the shirt at their lower back, wyvern tooth dagger still hanging loosely at his side.

Whispering into his hair, Rook reassures him. “Whatever you need.” A kiss pressed to the crown of his head. “However long you need.”

Lucanis shudders in a long breath, his shaky exhale warm against their chest. They continue to hold each other for a few more minutes, revelling in the intimacy and warmth. Eventually Lucanis starts to shift, and they slowly unwind limbs, reluctantly separating.

He looks down at the almost forgotten wyvern dagger in his hand. A pleased smile spreading across his face once more. He pats Rook’s chest lightly. “We need to wash up,” he starts making his way over to the door, “and I owe you a thank you lunch.” He calls over his shoulder as he reaches the door.

Rook pauses from picking up their gear, head whipping up stare after his retreating back. They shout indignantly back. “No! You can’t thank me for the thank you.”

A throaty laugh echoes up from the stairway. “Yes I can.”

They can hear the smug smile in his voice. Rook shakes their head in exasperation, smile immovable on their face as they pick up their things and follow him out.

[saythenametotheworld]

Long Story Short | (preview)

genre: college au, smut pairing: childhoodfriend!Na Jaemin x afab!reader notes: i tried to finish this on time before I leave for a three-day conference out of town, but I couldn't. so here's a preview for everyone waiting for part 5 of Campus Confessions! Full fic will be posted on Monday, 2/24!

Nana: You’re fine with getting new housemates, right?

You frowned at your phone. You asked him to get groceries, and he’s talking about getting housemates?

You: No. Nana: Not even gonna ask who they are first? You: Doesn’t matter. The answer is still no. Nana: That’s unfair. You should at least meet them before deciding. You: It’s my apartment. I get the final say. Nana: you mean, OUR apartment.

You: I still get the final say. Nana: What if I just bring them over for a quick dinner? No pressure, just introductions. You: I don’t see how that changes anything. Nana: You might change your mind. You: I won’t. Nana: … Nana: So that’s a yes to dinner?

You sighed, already regretting your decision.

You: Fine. But it’s still a no. Nana: Noted.

About an hour later, you heard the front door open and close, followed by the unmistakable sound of Jaemin kicking off his shoes. You looked up, expecting to see him with, what? Two guys? A couple of friends in need of a place to crash? Instead, Jaemin stood in the doorway, grinning like a kid who had just done something he wasn’t supposed to.

In his arms was a fluffy cat with wide, curious eyes. Another poked its head out of the bag slung across his chest. And at his feet, a third cat rubbed against his legs like it had already claimed him as its personal human. 

You blinked. “Jaemin.”

“Yeah?” he asked, completely nonchalant as he set the cat in his arms down on the floor.

You gestured at the trio of kitties now sniffing around your apartment. “What the hell is this?”

Jaemin crouched to scratch behind the ears of the one that had been circling his ankles. “This,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “is Luna, Lucy, and Luke. Our new housemates.”

You stared at him. “Excuse me?”

Jaemin finally looked up, smiling at you in that sweet, boyish way that usually meant he had done something ridiculous but wanted you to let it slide. “They needed a home.”

“That’s not an answer.” You pointed accusingly at the one sitting on the couch now, making itself comfortable. “Jaemin, we never talked about getting a cat. Let alone three.”

“I know.” He stood, brushing off his jeans. “But a senior from our department is graduating and she couldn't take them home with her. She was looking for someone who could adopt them, and I was only gonna get one but then she told me they’re siblings and have to stay together. And I just can’t leave them, can I?”

“So you thought bringing all three of them home was a good idea?” you asked, pinching the bridge of your nose.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice to that soft, coaxing tone he always used when he was trying to win you over. “You love cats.”

“That’s not the point.”

“They love you already,” he continued. “Look.”

You felt something nuzzle against your leg. Looking down, you saw Luna—Luke? Lucy? Whatever—purring up at you, their big round eyes full of innocence. Your heart softened, but you refused to let it show.

Jaemin noticed anyway. His smirk was triumphant. “Oh, they are sooo staying.”

You sighed heavily, pouting with your shoulders sagging in defeat. “I hate you.”

Jaemin laughed, leaning in to kiss your temple. “No, you don’t.” Then he pulled back, hands on his hips as he watched the cats now making themselves comfortable in their new home. “So, should we get them matching collars, or is that too much?”

[hannahssimblr]

She’s on the bed, lamp on, curtains still open to the winter scene outside. The lights of Roskilde glitter in the distance. I expect to find her emotional, like in a movie, where the girl throws herself upon the bed sobbing, mopping her face with tissues. Astrid is impassive. She watches me enter her bedroom and says nothing. 

“Are you… alright?”

“There is something wrong with Mia. This is what she does. I’m fine, yes.” Indifferent and cool again, it is obvious she has remembered who she is supposed to be.

“Okay, because to be honest, that was a lot.” Rather intense piano noises float through the house and through the gaps in the door. Mia, beating the keys. 

“It’s not true, by the way, those things she said about me throwing the Matador board. I haven’t done that since I was a child.”

“We’ve all done that at one point, I’d say.” I sit down with her and hold her foot. Those stripy woollen socks are rough in my hand. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about it.”

“I’m not embarrassed. I just said I haven’t done it since I was a child, so I don’t associate myself with it.”

“Oh, right.”

She pauses and looks out the window for a while, eyes glazed with thoughts. “I don’t come home very much anymore because of her,” she says, then. “She’s so insufferable.”

“It’s fairly obvious you two don’t get along.”

“Well, never have.”

“Any reason?”

“No, she just hates me. She’s always resented me for being born. She loved being the youngest, and now she’s furious with me. So much so that she’ll never forgive me for being alive, I’m sure.”

“Ah.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” she says, turning those piercing eyes on me. “You were the youngest once, too. I’m certain you’d never act like this towards your sister.”

“Well, there were different dynamics. It’s not like Ivy stole my place in the family, or whatever. I didn’t get any joy out of being the only child. There was nothing she could take away from me.”

“It must be different with girls.” Mia launches into an especially insane passage of her piece and Astrid purses her lips. A little slice of the version I saw downstairs seeping out. “She’s so annoying. Horrible, jealous, and annoying. I can’t wait to go back to Berlin and get away from her.”

“A couple more days is all,” I say. “You can try your best to be civil, you know? Or just avoid her if it’s that bad.”

“It is that bad. She makes it impossible to be civil, I–” she bunches her fists into her eyes as the music crashes on, distracting from her train of thought. “Could you go down there and tell her to shut up, please?”

I laugh. “In those words?”

“Yes. I don’t care. Just make sure she stops playing so that I’m not tormented by her, even in my private space.”

“You really want that?”

“Yes.”

I hesitate. “It’s a bit awkward, no?”

“You can tell her I said it. I don’t care. Just make her stop. She knows she’s doing it to get to me. It’s one of her sly tricks. If it is you that tells her, she may actually listen.”

I leave and make my way down to the study, where Mia has left the door open. The sounds of the piano pour out into the hallway, rising and falling, tinkling chromatics, music that makes me feel like droplets of water are spilling down my back. An audio sensory feeling I’ve only had before from those special songs in my playlists. It’s nice, whatever it is, so for moments I stand in the door and watch her play. Her hands on the keyboard are fluid, fast. She sees me, but pretends not to. We both wait until she has finished, the last notes ringing out, giving way to quiet.

Still, with her face turned away, she hooks her thick hair behind her ears, chin high and proud. “She’s sent you here to make me stop.”

Awkward now, obviously. “Sorry.”

Mia hacks out a laugh. “She’s always hated when I play.”

“I thought it was very good.”

She looks at me now, guarded eyes searching my face for mocking or insincerity. “Well, it is my job to be good.”

“Yes, well,” I step inside and gently pull the door behind me. “I knew, like, on some level, you’d be good, with your degree and all, but hearing it in person is different.”

Her eyes follow me across the room toward an armchair by the window. “Thank you.”

“What was that song?”

“Liszt.”

“Ah.”

“You like his work?”

“Um,” I sit down, a good view of the keyboard and all its worn ivories. “I liked that. I don’t know his other stuff.”

“You say it like he’s released a series of pop albums.”

“Sorry, I don’t know the right way to talk about it. I just mostly thought that was cool, and kind of mad at the same time.”

“That was Hungarian Rhapsody. They aren’t all like that. I was just feeling a need to get out my frustration.”

“What else has he done?”

She purses her lips, and I know I’ve again said something the wrong way. Turning back to the piano, she plucks out a series of gentle notes while I follow her hands with rapt attention. “This is Liebestraum. Do you recognise it?”

“No.”

“It’s softer.”

The melody is lyrical, dreamy, flows like a heartfelt confession. Makes me feel like I’m longing for something. Reminds me I am pretty much always doing that, and isn’t that it? Life? Always yearning for the things you cannot have. “Jesus, you really are so good.” Mia just nods. “You know that, obviously,” I add. “I just wanted to repeat it.”

While she plays, and the lyrical sound fills the little room. Often, I have thought of the piano as something annoying, a sound that only meant my TV show or game would be interrupted. Something played reluctantly, the subject of a hundred arguments at home, but to listen to it like this is a pleasure. The swelling of sound, unexpected discord, then resolution. After the piece fades into silence like a dream fading to memory, I simply sit. 

“It’s complicated, isn’t it?” I say eventually. “It never really does what you think it’s going to do.”

“That’s why I like the romantics. They were breaking the rules and changing what music was.”

I nod, not knowing exactly what she means, but feeling as if I do. “My sister plays the piano.”

“Ah, yes?”

“Yeah, since she was six, though she’s not able to do all this.”

“You said she is eleven?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, no eleven-year-old can do this. Their hands are too small.”

I let out a small laugh, though Mia doesn’t seem to understand she was being funny. “Yeah,” I say, “well you’re right there. Hopefully, one day, she will.”

“If she works hard.”

“I don’t know about that. She’s pretty lazy.”

“Well, most people don’t want to play piano as kids. It’s a matter of making them do it because you can see the potential. I was serious always, I suppose, but for me it was all I really liked to do. I didn’t have other things I cared so much about.”

“Well, I’d love if she was good enough to play like that. I think I’d just sit and listen all day.”

Mia doesn’t know what to say. My compliments have made her uncomfortable. 

“Hey, so you do concerts on stage, right? That’s your job?”

“Yes.”

“Have you played in Berlin?”

“Not yet. I will be in the summer. I’m playing Rach 2 with the Berlin Phil.”

“Oh.”

A small eye roll, making fun of herself. “Rachmaninov’s second piano concerto, I mean. With the Berlin Philharmonic. They are an orchestra.”

“Ah, so a whole big thing.”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“Do you think if I brought my sister to that, you could talk to her about music and stuff?”

A smile tugs at her lips. “Yes, of course. I could give her a tour of the concert hall. I could let her try the piano and bring her backstage to show her what it is like.”

“You have that kind of power?”

“I am the soloist, Jude. I can do whatever I like.”

“Wow, yes, I mean, that’d be amazing. She would love that so much. That’s really kind of you.”

She shrugs and turns back to the piano, just to look at it instead of having to look at me. Perhaps remembering who I am by association. The boyfriend of the enemy. “If you want, you can tell Astrid I have finished playing. Tell her you told me to shut up, and I did.”

“I’m sorry, Mia. I really didn’t want to have to ask you.”

She flips her hair and stares up at a seascape painting, propped against the wall above the piano. “I’m sure she has told you already her version of things. About how horrible I am.”

“She hasn’t. She really doesn’t talk about that kind of thing with me. All I knew before coming here is that she has two sisters and a nephew.”

“Oh, so she’s still like that.”

“Like what?”

“Completely detached. That’s nice to know.”

I don’t know what to say. 

“You know it’s true what I was saying about her in the kitchen? She’ll tell you I was lying, but I wasn’t. She really did throw the board. She wanted to throw it tonight, but she remembered you were there.”

“It’s fine, really. I don’t care who threw the board.” 

“You don’t think it’s completely childish? That she acts like a twelve-year-old all the time?”

I massage my palm with my thumb. “What is it between you two, anyway? Is this just normal sibling stuff, or is there something else?”

“Something else.”

“Like, I dunno. Did you both like the same boy or something?”

Mia turns to face me, eyes incredulous. “That’s what you think? Sisters are fighting, so it must be something to do with us, men! They couldn’t possibly have anything else to be upset about?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, sorry.”

“It’s because Astrid gets everything she wants. Always has. She was six during our parents’ divorce, and she’s the one that cried the most about it. She learned that if she cried enough, she’d get whatever she wanted, just to make her shut up.”

“Mia, I mean, she was a small child.”

“You know she got her own bedroom? I had to share with Pernille, who was always using the phone to call her friends and her stupid boyfriends as I was trying to sleep, and smoking weed out the window. The smell gave me a headache. I hate that kind of thing. Astrid got her own room and all the toys she wanted. Oh, and this!” She throws her hand toward the piano. “I was the talented one. I worked hardest, and all I ever heard about was how Astrid was drawing such pretty pictures, that frankly, weren’t even that good. Everyone was just pretending. She thinks she’s so wonderful now, but it’s all based on lies. Everyone gave her an opinion of herself that was entirely unwarranted.”

“She’s good, though. You can’t deny that. They’re putting her ceramics in galleries.”

“Confidence and good looks get you everywhere. She knows it. God,” she scoffs, tension in her body as though decades of pent up fury is forcing its way to the surface. “And we worried so much about her, did you know? After that whole thing with the photographer. Do you think she ever apologised for that? No. She didn’t care. She only cares about herself.”

“The photographer?”

“Oh, God, of course you don’t know about that, either. You don’t know about any of it. I assumed she was in a normal relationship with you, seeing as you’re here, but it seems I was wrong. Do you know anything about her?”

I hesitate. “Not about her past.”

“She brought you here without telling you a thing about her? How weird. She’s so weird.”

“Well, in fairness, I was the one that asked to come. I didn’t want to go home for Christmas. She didn’t really have an option but to say yes.”

Rolling her eyes. “Okay, well, of course. The photographer was a man she met when she was seventeen. After the disaster with N–” she freezes. “You know about Nicklas?”

My heart skips. “No.”

“I shouldn’t be telling you this,” she says, before telling me anyway. “He lived nearby. Our mothers are friends. Helle, from today, would come here all the time for coffee and to talk. They were pregnant together, and then Astrid was born, and two weeks later, Nicklas. They grew up together. Helle took him with her to our house and let him play with us, and he and Astrid started school together at once. 

“Then, as they grew up, they would play together all the time. Climbing trees in the garden and things. He would cycle to see her and wait on the doorstep. So many times, I would come home to find him there waiting for her to come outside. I suppose he was her best friend or something.”

“And then?”

“Oh, then she was fourteen, and realised she was pretty. She befriended a group of horrible girls at school, who laughed too loudly at things just to make you feel excluded, and tried to get the attention of boys. Nicklas joined in with those boys, the ones that played football outside of school, just so she would pay attention to him again. It was sad, really. We all felt bad for him because he was so obviously having feelings for her. He was a teenage boy.

“And then one day…” Mia shrugs. “She finally came around. It was like she saw sense for the first time. Or maybe she liked how much he liked her. They dated when they were sixteen. He was so happy. She was happy. She was laughing all the time and holding hands and kissing in front of everybody. Helle and our mom were happy, too, because they’d always secretly wished for it. It was, I suppose, their idea of meant-to-be.”

“Obviously it wasn’t though, seeing as I’m here now.”

Mia shakes her head. “No, obviously not. They were together for a few months. I don’t know, not many. Then one day he broke up with her.”

“Why?”

“Maybe he realised the fantasy was better than the reality, I don’t know. She is not so easy to deal with. I’m sure there came a point where he had enough, and I can’t blame him. It devastated her. Oh, just crying all the time,” she rolls her eyes. “It was terrible, the turmoil. Locked up there in her bedroom all the time, refusing to eat. It was because she always thought she was better than him, and that she was doing him a great favour by being his girlfriend. She could not take it when he was the one to end things. At least that’s what I think about it. Poor little Astrid.”

I shouldn’t know about this. If Astrid had wanted me to know it, she would have told me, and yet I find myself unable to let it go. Like a starving man, grabbing at whatever he can get. Forcing my guilt aside for more. Yet the more I hear, the more my body protests. A sick feeling. Tightness in my chest, palms prickling with sweat. I swallow. “So, she got over it, right?”

“Hm.”

“This was, what, four, five years ago? Enough time to let it go, surely.”

“I haven’t asked her. I hope so, but it did something to her. She’s been strange ever since. Having strange relationships.”

“Like the photographer.”

“Oh, yes, that was the whole point. Him. He was one outcome of this. Astrid, and her need to show Nicklas she didn’t need him by dating all kinds of men. Never single, but always with this strange attitude, so closed off, acting like someone else. We worried. And then, oh, god, then came the holiday with a friend of hers and her parents to France. On the beach, she met this man who told her she could be a model. She believed him. He was twenty-nine, or something. Completely inappropriate. The parents of her school friend had to call our mother, panicked and upset because Astrid hadn’t come back to the hotel one evening. Turns out she was with this man and his friends, drinking, by the way, and–”

“No, hang on,” I say, guts churning, now. “I actually don’t think I can know any more. I don’t want to hear this.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Well, she won’t tell you on her own.”

“I know, it’s… maybe it’s one of those things better left in the past.” I want to stand up and leave. Go outside into the freezing wind and swallow lungfuls of it until I stop feeling so hot, but that’d be a weird thing to do. I’d have to explain myself. I sit, leg jumping as Mia stares at me, squinting her eyes like I’m a passage from a book she cannot decipher.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I think, really. I don’t want to know.”

“I know everything about her, Jude. You can ask me.”

A lurching feeling, like getting sick. “No, no. I want to respect… it’s not right that I know. I don’t want to. It might change things.”

She frowns. After a moment, her interest wanes, and she simply shrugs. “Okay,” she turns back to the piano, and picks another piece to play. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[bipolarxblues]

A small nod answered Olivia’s question, that some of the girls she knew, knew him. One of her friends, some other girls in her class or that she bumped into, no one she was particularly close to though she wished she listened to their warning a little closer than she had. Saying he was a dog was an insult to dogs themselves.

Another nod met what she said about nice guys; “his name is August. I have his number. Maybe I should see if he wants to get coffee sometime soon… but he is a little older than me so he might not be into me,” she mused out loud, relaxing a little due to the conversation steering towards the older man who helped her and away from the jerk that hurt her. For a moment, she found herself breathing easier, up until her breath caught from the next line of questions. She made a mistake, one that Olivia caught.

Fuck.

“That- that’s where I was supposed to meet him. It was more of a path than a boardwalk but it was by the water,” she was backpedaling a little, but hopefully that wasn’t too obvious; “you know the- uh, the- uh…” she paused, shaking her head, “my dad would kill me if he knew where I went but he said it’d be safe- the Hudson River Greenway in Washington Heights.”

Not the safest neighborhood, definitely not one where most women would feel comfortable being alone at after dark. Her father would be livid if he knew she went there alone in the evening, especially around sunset.

Slowing down, she glanced towards Olivia, an inquisitive and slightly worried expression on her face, “I know I didn’t have the best judgement,” some of the worst judgement she had in all honesty; she was a bright, smart, girl, so she knew better than to meet with a guy who didn’t have the best reputation in a poor part of town, but he had been so friendly and gave her so many compliments, often saying how pretty she was, and when he asked her out, made a point to say he’d treat her right- she naively believed he had good intentions but didn’t have the best hand dealt to him.

“… but you won’t tell my father, right? You said you wouldn’t,” she inquired out of concern, reminding Olivia of what she said earlier- that things could stay between them. Her home was now in sight, so if she pressed too hard or couldn’t promise her that her father wouldn’t know, she could always leave.

Cold water splashed across her face, followed by the soft towel patting her skin dry. Exhaustion tugged at her shoulders while nerves danced at her fingertips. Olivia texted her an hour ago telling her to get ready, they were going on a walk, that she needed to get out as some fresh air would be good for her. She could only assume that her father had told her that she hadn’t left the house other than to go to class.

Hopefully they didn’t talk about anything else but she found herself running circles in her mind about what they could possibly know, what her father could have shared with his seasoned partner. Did her father find out she was sleeping her days away? Was she too snappy this past week? Could she have been too jumpy? Only a week passed since the ordeal took place, so of course she needed a little time, but she was getting over it, she swore she was getting over it- she didn’t need help, she didn’t need her father to get involved, she didn’t need a case, she just needed a little time to get over it, to move on, to feel her hurt so she could put it in the past. Now, though, she was worried that maybe she was too overtly hurt- maybe they had a clue what had happened, which was her worst fear. She didn’t want that night put on display for all to see.

Could her clothes give her away? She hoped not. She was dressed a little out of the ordinary for her on this cold evening; jeans, which were typical, coupled with a long sleeve, an oversized jacket from the friend that helped her that evening, and some boots. Her hair was done up in a loose bun, she didn’t have make up on- though that wasn’t too unusual since she was a little bit of a tomboy. She figured they weren’t going anywhere in particular and she didn’t have the energy to put that much effort into her appearance.

Flashing a few smiles to the mirror to practice a happy demeanor before she left the bathroom, she headed down the stairs to the front door. She slipped on a pair of wool gloves, grabbing her purse, then left, closing the door behind her. She could wait on the porch for Olivia to show up, not like she was trying to be early- she wasn’t looking forward to this meeting like she usually would.

At least the weather seemed nice, though a tad gray and a little cold.

@captain-benson

[miserye]

I also called first guy’s identity

[bacchuschucklefuck]

way late for lny but hey the brain makes the connection when it does. aka caducean/asclepian

[icewindandboringhorror]

Pages from trying to keep a little sketchbook-scrapbook type thing going for two weeks lol. I gave myself specific rules in hopes they might all end up more cohesive/consistent seeming, but alas, scribbly chaos reigns, it seems

[sirenium]

⚠️trigger warning, violence mention⚠️

Thinking about the time I had an exclusionist reblog my post to tell me that queer people are dying, and then they proceeded to yell at me for being an mspec lesbian. 💀

They were unwittingly admitting that there are more important issues than somebody's identity, while trying to invalidate my identity lmfao. I suppose they thought it was some huge ‘gotcha’ moment, cuz ooh I'm so selfish for expressing my distress toward mspec lesbians such as myself being crucified for calling themselves lesbians, while people are facing REAL issues! Give me a break.

I know queer people face acts of violence, and mspec les/gays saying ‘hey guys, we'd like to be allowed labels and spaces too’ isn't in any way invalidating that. Exclusionists need to get over themselves.

[funerals]

this old bitch is testing my patience

[beastsovrevelation]

I was looking through my notes for Good Omens fanfiction, and realized almost every damn story includes Crowley having a baby.

There's the one where Heaven and Hell decide to use an angel baby carried by a demon as a diplomatic tool, leading into Crowley being protected by Michael, and them falling in love.

There's the one where she leaves her baby with Anathema and disappears, which triggers all the following events - from the search, to Aziraphale's trial, and everything else.

There's the one where she has to supply the new Antichrist, which leads to her and Lucifer falling in love, and her being crowned the Queen of Hell. (Well, this one is really two stories set in different timelines, in the second one the "baby" is like 27)

In the one inspired by a dream, she does have a baby eventually, but that's far from the worst thing that happens to her. Gabriel's treatment of her after is... How the Hell will I write this damn thing if I can't even think about it.

There's no baby in the one where she gets tortured with diluted holy water.

I see I have no storyline with male Crowley just yet... Fine, that's not true. I do have some thoughts for Crowley x Fem!Lucifer... It could include a new Antichrist, too. And, Crowley wouldn't be the pregnant one for once. But, dealing with pregnant Lucifer would probably be even scarier.