#I’d trap him in a box and then put that in another box | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

delcakoo · 2 years

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pixie dust ⋆ ˚｡⛧ ˚ l.hs

SUMMARY ! when the boy you've been telling stories about your whole childhood magically shows up in your bedroom, it only makes sense for him to take you and your brother to neverland instead of letting you grow up.

PAIRING ! peterpan!heeseung x f!reader ft. brother!riki

WC ! 1.8k

GENRE ! fantasy, fluff, crack (?)

a/n: i have no explanation for this i just randomly thought of rewriting peter pan so!! hee fic nobody asked for <3

throughout your whole life, only one boy has ever been inside your bedroom.

who may that be? the suspense is heart pounding, isn’t it?

it’s your brother, riki.

though, you’re not too sure if that embarrassing fact is the case anymore considering the sound of an young, unfamiliar male voice has trampled its way into your peaceful slumber and forced your eyes open at what feels like way past midnight.

“it has to be in here somewhere, i swear on it.” first he opened your toy box, then started searching through your drawers all with strange little jingling sounds to accompany the hunt. you felt petrified, too scared to even move and find out who this boy was. even worse, you couldn’t forget about the fact that your little brother was fast asleep in his bed across from you, unaware of the stranger lurking around the room.

“gotcha!” you nearly let out a yelp at the sudden raise of volume. ”see, i knew i’d find it, tink.”

tink?

it couldn’t be.

your body snaps up in bed, gripping the silk sheets tightly while reaching over to turn on your night lamp. immediately, the room illuminates, revealing a pale skinned boy in a peculiar green outfit. his face was strikingly handsome — cute pointed nose, bambi-like eyes and soft black bangs that framed his face even nicer under a small green hat.

he looked much better than in the nursery’s books, for one.

though, you’re slightly caught off guard by the way he’s grabbing onto a dark reflection of himself, along with a bar of soap in a desperate pursuit of scrubbing the bottom of his brown boots.

flashing back to the night before, you do recall catching a shadow with your brother and trapping it in a drawer, and guilt rushes through you at how it all went down.

“riki, you’re being ridiculous. it can’t be peter’s shadow.”

your brother grips onto the shadows ankle tighter while it attempts to fly away, holding it close like a balloon. “i swear it is, sis. look at the pointy hat, it’s just like in the storybooks! you’re the one who always tells me to use my imagination, now look at you. maybe you really are growing up,” he mumbles the last part, pink lips turning into a hurt pout.

hastily pulling open the closest wooden drawer, your eyes soften for a second before it turns into frustration. “that’s enough. we’re putting it in here and figuring this out tomorrow. i don’t want another word from you.”

speaking of your brother, he quickly wakes up at the bright glare of your lamp, eyes squinted and raven hair sticking up in all directions. a dramatic gasp escapes his lips that you can hear even from across the room as he meets the eyes of the intruder. “peter pan?”

peter blinks, seemingly unphased by being caught. “riki?”

“i knew it was you! i told her it was your shadow,” your stupid brother points right over at you, and you blush at all the attention now being narrowed down on you in your measly nightgown, “but she wouldn’t believe me!”

the magical boy puts the hand that isn’t gripping his shadow on his hips, head tilting to the side as he inspects you up and down. “that doesn’t sound like you, y/n.”

“i- how do you know our names?” you blurt.

he smirks, leaning against your dresser before going back to scrubbing his shoe. “me and tink stop by for your stories every night.”

you decide then and there that this couldn’t get any more embarrassing. “but.. my stories are always about you.”

“yeah, that’s my favourite part,” he replies swiftly. you never imagined peter pan to be such a bratty narcissist, though you suppose going off children’s books isn’t the most trustworthy source. “also, my real name’s heeseung. since you’re even prettier up close, i think i’d prefer if you call me that instead.”

you freeze up, mouth parting uselessly as your brother swoops in to save the day. “what about me, what about me?”

he gives the younger boy an annoyed look, pretty eyes rolling back a bit. “you too, i guess.”

while riki blabbers on about how excited he is to meet him, heeseung starts pressing the bottom of his shoe against his shadow, as if using soap would magically glue them back together.

snapping out of your daze, you hop out of bed, rushing over to find your sewing kit. “you can’t attach your shadow back with a bar of soap.” when you pace over to the boy, his eyes furrow down curiously as you grab his shadow and kneel down to his boot. “don’t move.”

you’ve sewn socks, scarves, mittens, and even a ugly hat for your brother as your parents were too cheap to get him a nice one for winter. even with all this experience, you most definitely haven’t sewn a shadow before.

while you begin with your work, your brother plops out of his own bed, suddenly jumping and closing his hands together in a tight ball. he grins proudly, looking over at you with eyes turned into crescents. “sis, i caught a firefly!”

“good job, ki,” you reply absentmindedly. just as you finish up with heeseung’s shadow, offering him a thumbs up to tell him he could move, your brother yelps in alarm.

“y/n! i- i caught a girl!”

your lips part as you try and process his words. “you what?!”

luckily, heeseung quickly rushes over, pulling your brother's hands apart to release a small, pale girl with wings and a mini green dress. her hair was tied in a neat blonde bun, and she’d look like an angel if it wasn’t for the angry scowl painted on her face. “tink, there you are,” he smiles, chuckling as the miniature fairy attempts to smack him with squeaks of anger.

“she’s real too!?” riki hollers, and you mentally thank your parents for constantly leaving the house all mysteriously most nights, or else you’d definitely be more than grounded by now.

“everything in your stories are.” heeseung shrugs. “i tell em’ to the lost boys. jungwon and sunghoon are especially big fans of you both.”

“the lost boys.. they’re like.. your right hand men, right?” riki beams excitedly, earning a nod from the taller boy. tinkerbell is busy tapping her foot stubbornly, as if the both of you taking heeseung’s attention from her was the most annoying thing imaginable.

meanwhile, you gulp in debate of whether you should ruin the bright atmosphere of first introductions. “i’m glad you came back for your shadow, heeseung.”

raising a brow, he stares down at you with an unreadable gleam in his eye. “why?”

“i-“

“y/n’s growing up today,” riki cuts in.

heeseung freezes, even tinkerbell lets out a jingle in surprise. it’s almost as if he was just given the worst news of his life, soft deer eyes now gaping wide and cluelessly. you bite your lip. seeing his reaction only made you feel more sick at the thought. “growing- growing up? but that means..”

“no more sleeping in the nursery, no more stories,” you finish with a frown. heeseung pauses for a moment, huffing before grabbing your wrist and leading you to your window in determination.

your brother immediately follows. “what’re you doing?”

“taking her to neverland,” he announces with quick steps. at his words, tinkerbell seems enraged, jealous perhaps as she begins flapping around and jingling widly despite heeseung paying her no mind.

in the background, riki gasps. “hey, i wanna come too!”

you’re busy yanking the male’s hand from your wrist, giving him a stern gaze. “i can’t just go to neverland and be your personal storyteller!” heeseung flinches, completely taken aback by your raise of volume. “my mother will freak out, i have to take care of my brother and-“

“what’s a mother?” he asks.

“it’s.. someone who loves and cares for you-“

“good, you can be our mother,” he decides. “and we can bring him too i guess.” grabbing your brother's hand, heeseung marches towards your windowsill without another ounce of hesitation.

during your panicking, riki is busy smiling brightly, following the older boy with ease. “c’mon sis, you don’t wanna grow up, do you?”

well.. he had a point.

it was either growing up, getting a job and having responsibilities, or taking the hand of peter pan, flying off to some magical island with your little brother and being young forever. the choice wasn’t too difficult.

“how.. how do we get to neverland?” you inquire, watching as the taller boys share a victorious glance. just as tinkerbell processes his words and begins flying away, heeseung grabs her in the palm of his hand, already shaking pixie dust across the floorboards.

“we fly, of course. what do i say in your stories again?” he ponders, pointy nose scrunching slightly. “oh, right. think of a wonderful thought.”

“any wonderful thought?” he nods again, and you begin to wonder how that silly hat of his doesn’t fly right off.

closing your eyes in sync with your little brother, you begin picturing neverland. the ethereal, otherworldly island with rainbows hovering over mermaid’s lagoon, and plush ferns and greenery complimenting the earthy soiled ground of the neverwoods. you imagine flying by captain hook’s wretched ship and shooting it down with the lost boy’s trusty slingshots, and what kind of conversations you’d have with the beautiful woman that inhabited the sea.

amidst your daydreaming, you barely make out the quiet sounds of tinkerbell’s jingling nearby before small, golden sprinkles begin raining onto you. when they meet your bare skin they burn slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of what exactly you were doing.

it has you gulping in anxiousness that only increases as your feet begin lifting off the ground. snapping your eyes open in shock, you nearly lose your balance while experimenting with your new form of travelling.

“y/n, look at me!” riki giggles midair, performing a somersault playfully.

heeseung chuckles along with you both before grabbing your hand, soft fingers resting against your knuckles gently. while you’re distracted by the new contact, the boy pushes his other arm as if he was swimming, efficiently lifting you both higher in the air. he flew with so much ease that only motivated you to learn faster.

at last, he offers you a charming smile that immediately pulls any doubts off your mind. “let’s get out of here before your parents come back, hm pretty?”

you reach down to grab your brother’s hand, gripping it tightly to ensure there isn’t a chance of him being left behind before nodding. “lead the way.”

bonus:

“so like.. are the girls in neverland pretty?” you’d barely even made it out the window, and of course and your brother already managed to ruin the peaceful experience.

“wait til’ you see the mermaids.” heeseung sends your brother a wink, and you watch in disgust as they sneakily fist bump right in front of you.

you close your eyes. “i despise the both of you.”

“the stories you make about me every night say otherwise, pretty girl.”

if you enjoyed, reblogs n’ comments are always appreciated <3

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quinloki · 1 year

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Elevator Music

Fem Reader x Eustass Kid

One Shot - 2,956 words

CW: Language, sexual themes and situations, semi-public sex, elevator sex, rough sex, consensual, modern au, Kid has both arms. 18+ only

-:- Table of Consent -:-

Inspired by this tumblr post about being trapped in an elevator with the person on your lockscreen.

“Floor?” You ask as the tall, broad shouldered young man stepped into the elevator. He looked like he could be the poster boy for punk rock. Wild red hair, golden brown eyes, scars that did nothing to detract from his looks, and a confidence in his step you had to appreciate.

“Eleven.” He answers. His voice is a little like gravel but not unpleasant.

You press the button and return to your phone, stealing a few sideways glances as politely as you could. Shame you didn’t have business with him, but the elevator ride was improved at least.

Around the 8th floor there was a jolt, not a hard one, but it was unnerving in the otherwise smooth ride. You both flinched a little and exchanged glances, and you nearly said something when another harder jolt shook the elevator carriage. You can’t help the surprised squeak that escapes you, and you grab onto the bar.

The elevator doesn’t move. Smooth, jerkily, or otherwise.

You and the punk exchange glances before looking around the compartment. There’s an emergency box he pulls open and an old style phone with no buttons. He picks it up and you can hear it ringing even after he puts it by his ear. You’re still looking around for the little red button, or anything that might be useful if no one picks up the phone.

But after a few rings there’s a voice. It’s too muffled to make out, but you can hear your fellow trapped passenger.

“Yeah, the elevator’s stuck.” There’s muffled talking and he looks around and looks at you. “See anything that says what car this is?”

“Six?” You prompt, pointing to a number just under the floor button.

“Probably. Yeah, we think it’s car 6… yeah, ‘we’, there’s a lady in here too.” There’s a long silence, and he rolls his eyes. “Am I staying on the line for this, or can you call us?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sure, sure. Here.”

He hands you the phone and you make a face before taking it. “Yell-o?” You say, unsure what was going on.

“Ma’am, we need to know if you feel threatened.” The voice on the other end of the line says.

“Huh?”

“If you feel unsafe we can probably get authorization to break the doors open and getting you out before the fire department arrives.”

“Hang on.” You put the phone to your chest and look at the big guy with you. “If I tell them you’re making me feel scared they’re willing to break the rules and get us out of here faster.”

“… You’re not afraid of me?”

You tilt your head. “No, why would I be?”

He grunts. “It’s fine then, you can lie, it won’t bother me.”

You speak back into the phone. “Hello? Yes, uh, yes, I am so if you could-.”

“For insurance reasons you’ll have to officially press charges ma’am.” The man on the other end of the line explains. “My supervisor just informed me.”

“Oh. Well, no then. Just get us out of here as fast as you can. I was on my way to an interview.” You reply. “I’d rather not miss it. Did you need to speak to him again?”

“No ma’am. We’ll call once we have an ETA for you. You can hang up for now.”

“Alright, thank you!” You say cheerfully and hang the phone up. “Sorry, we’ll probably be here for a while. They wanted me to file actual charges.” You grouse, clicking your tongue. “How useless.”

He shrugs and sits down in the corner by the phone. “What’s your name, doll?”

“Anything but that,” you say with a smile, sitting down across from him, being mindful of your interview outfit. “(Y/N). What’s yours, red?”

He grunts. “Anything but that.” He echoes. “Eustass Kid.”

“Well, Mr. Eustass, my apologies for not pressing charges on you.” You say with a grin.

He grunts a laugh, and leans his head back. “Hope you make your interview.”

“Ha! Thanks.” You sigh. “I’m kind of glad to be missing it, but it won’t matter. I’ll just have to try again tomorrow.” You admit with a sigh.

“Oh?”

“Yeeeeeah, it’s my dad’s company. I could give two shits less about it, quite frankly, but I’ve been black listed.”

“Huh?” Eustass looked at you with actual interest for the first time since he got into the elevator. “Are you saying your old man kept other companies from hiring you?”

You nod. “Dad doesn’t have a son. Someone’s gotta take over, and if I don’t then I don’t get to work at all. I spent the last two years job hunting, and he pulled the plug on everything. I can’t even get a job as a newspaper boy, and I don’t have enough personal funds to get out of the range of his reach.

“Ahhh, sorry, a bunch of rich kid drama, isn’t it? I have it so hard.” You try to laugh, but frustration makes it hard to be flippant. “If I play along for a couple years I can bounce. That wouldn’t be so bad.”

“… You don’t have to have it hard for something to suck ass.” He says after a moment. “Your dad’s a real bastard.”

You grin. “Thanks.”

A few more minutes pass and the elevator phone rings. Eustas picks it up and listens for a few moments before replying. “Sure, we’ll be fine. If anything changes we’ll call.”

He hangs up the phone and settles against the wall more. “Get comfortable, it’s gonna be an hour at least. Says the fire fighters are busy, and once the emergency calls are cleared they’ll send someone over.”

You lean back with a bit of a sigh. You weren’t sad to be missing the interview, but you also weren’t thrilled to spend an hour or more in a box, eight floors off the ground.

You take out your phone and putz around on it for a while. After a few minutes you find yourself stealing glances at Eustass Kid. Punk rock r-shirt, work boots, dusty jeans. He smells of grease and oil and metal and chocolate. In the enclosed space it doesn’t take much to notice it all.

He’s thick and muscular. Probably could do all manner of unspeakable things to you without breaking a sweat, but something about him left you feeling safe around him. Safe enough to fantasize a little, even if you felt a bit guilty. You two barely knew each other’s names, but it was easy to imagine what was under that well-fitted shirt.

It was easy to imagine the things you’d let him do to you, too, and not just because you were wholeheartedly rebelling against dear old dad, but also because he was just hot. From the sound of his voice, to how he was relaxing right now, to - what you were sure - was a fiery personality he’d been suppressing for your benefit.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” He asks, not even looking up from his phone.

“Yes.” You reply with a smile, watching a grin cross his face before he looks up at you.

“Not what I expected.”

“I get in trouble for that a lot,” you admit, letting your eyes shift down before looking back at him. “I’m reminded repeatedly that my behavior is terribly unladylike. Honestly though, who should care?”

“You sound like you’re looking to get into trouble.” He says, sitting up a little and giving you more of his attention.

“Are you offering to help, Eustass Kid?”

His grin turns toothy, you’d almost call it a smile except it was just so wolfish. “Planning on setting a date, or are you going to walk into the trap right now, mouse?” He asks, opening his arms and motioning you over.

You glance around the elevator again, checking to be sure there weren’t any cameras in the car with the two of you, and then stand up. He adjusts a little more, legs closed, slouched just a little, hands out on either side of his waist, at the perfect height to help you steady yourself as you step over him, foot on either side of his hips.

You pull your skirt up a little as you sit in his lap, a small approving hum from him as the tops of your thigh-high stockings come into view for a moment. Settling into position in his lap you shift and let out and involuntary gasp. The bulge in his pants is already pushing the zipper of his jeans into you.

“You really want this, huh?” He muses, shifting his hips into you and nearly pulling another sound out of you. Your face is hot and red, and you’re not having second thoughts or anything, but you’re surprised at your own arousal.

“Seems so,” you admit. “I’d blame you, but I’m worried your ego would fill to bursting.” You rock your hips against him and feel his straining under the denim. “Though it seems to be mutual.”

“Whatcha looking to get out of this?” He asks, hands gripping your ass and squeezing it.

“An orgasm comparable to that cocky look on your face.” You muse, causing his grin to twist perfectly.

“Ha! Alright,” he grabs your hair and pulls you close, but not quite enough to kiss. “I meant past those doors opening, but I can work with that.”

“Ask me something like that after those doors open,” you answer, biting your lower lip and pulling against his grip on your hair. You shift against the erection straining in his pants and rut your clit against the coarse fabric more than you meant to.

The sweet mewling gasp that escapes you is devoured by Eustass as he pulls you into a deep kiss. There’s no tenderness in the passionate kiss, no ode of love or promise of tomorrow, but it’s as greedy and needy as you are and you sink into it.

Your fingers fumble with his belt as heat builds between you, a pleased hum is all the consent you need as you begin to undo his jeans.

“Normally I’d say something about dinner and a movie first,” Kid teases, lifting his hips and helping to put the waistband of the jeans down a little. “I ain’t got any condoms on me though.”

“Honor system then,” you practically pant the words. “You clean?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too, and I’ve had IUDs since I was sixteen, so no worries.” Your fingers run along the length of his cock, still under the fabric of his boxer, and you’re already impressed. Licking your lips involuntarily you reach in through the front opening of the boxers and wrap your fingers around the hard, thick flesh and pull if free.

Eustass’ hips buck and he hissed against the sensation of it, but he doesn’t move to stop you. Your eyes go wide at the sight of the beast at this man’s disposal, and you wonder if it’s going to fit. It’s thick and long and a little intimidating, just like the punk it’s attached to.

“Jesus.” You mutter.

“Having second thoughts?” He seems pleased instead of concerned.

“Minor logistical concerns.” You say, but your voice isn’t nearly as confident as your words. You pull your skirt up and hear him swear under his breath. “Ha, thing for thigh highs, Mr. Eustass?”

“Fuck yeah,” he answers, hands sliding up your thighs, snapping the garter straps playfully. “Goddamn. What were you interviewing for with this on?” He asks, his fingers hooking around the front of the thong and tugging it up a little.

You gasp and arch your back a bit at the sensation, chuckling in a mix of pleasure and nerves. “Just rebelling where I can.” You admit as he tugs the thong aside and you push your soaking slit against his rock hard erection.

You’re so wet you slide against him easily. You both take a moment to enjoy the pleasure from the contact and you can feel him twitching against you.

“Hells you are soaked.” He licks his lips and leans you back a little, lining himself up with your entrance. “You can go at your own pace, but I want to see this.”

Your whole body twitches and your face heats up. Your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed, and those golden brown eyes seem to look into your soul. You steady yourself with your hands on his thighs, slowly lowering your hips onto him. If you weren’t practically dripping with desire you don’t think you could take him without a lot more prep, but you slowly work him in and out, stretching yourself against his thick cock and reveling in how full you feel.

You don’t hold back the airy moans and needy whimpers that escape you as you work him in deeper and deeper. The elevator phone rings, and the only look you give him is one filled with lust. You shift your hips and moan as he reaches for the phone.

His right hand goes over your mouth as he picks up the phone with his left. “Yeah?” He prompts, voice steady. His eyes are still on you, and a slight shift of his hips is all the motivation you need to continue taking him in.

He smirks as your tongue slips along his middle finger. “Yeah, okay. Thanks for the update.” He replies to the voice on the other end of the phone. His middle finger is slipping against the tip of your tongue as he hangs up the phone.

You lean forward, pushing his finger into your open mouth as you take the rest of his cock into your pussy. You kiss the base of his finger lightly, before leaning back, running your tongue along his finger playfully. You put your hands on his shoulders, struggling a little to get the leverage you need to move. He’s so broad your knees don’t reach the elevator floor, so instead you hook your feet over his legs and begin to ride him.

“Got about twenty minutes.” He says, hands on your hips, helping you move once you set your pace.

“Ah, damn,” you gasp, grinning at him salaciously. “A quickie then, eh?”

He nearly barks a laugh, before giving you an amused grin. “If twenty minutes is quick in your book, I’m curious what a proper amount of time is?”

“Mm,” you grind into him a little. “An hour at least.” You muse, riding him as you talk. “Foreplay, teasing, as many toe-curling, throat-shattering orgasms you can rip from one another, aftercare. A good proper fuck in the morning should wreck your whole day.”

You can hear him growl in approval, hands tightening against your hips, dick twitching inside of you. His hips move to meet yours as you come down, pushing him into you deeper and faster. You moan for him to do as he pleases and the restraints he’d put on himself snap.

You went from being on top of him, to being under him, to being up against the elevator wall in just a few minutes. Every time you got close he’d shift to a different position. The grin on his face let you know he knew exactly what he was doing, the bratty bastard.

Pushed up against the elevator wall, legs hooked over his arms as he brings you close again. Something in his demeanor promises release at the end of this, and you’re holding onto him in need and desperation. Moans and grunts mixing with the shiver and creak of the elevator car.

The elevator phone begins to ring.

“Ah-aan-answer that – hnggh! – and I w-will kill you!” You gasp as you can feel yourself nearly there.

“Cum for me little mouse,” he growls, tongue teasing your neck.

Pleasure rushes into you, tensing your body and causing your fingers to dig into him through his shirt. He speeds up a little and the pleasurable mewling sounds coming from you turn into gasping pleas as you clench against him sending you both over the edge.

There’s a quiet moment, a couple rings from the phone the only thing marking the passage of time, shared between you both before he pulls out and sets you onto shaky legs. He’s reaching for the phone before he’s even tucked himself back into pants, practically snarling.

“What?”

There’s a moment of silence before you can hear the voice on the other side start talking. You’re adjusting your clothes, and trying to tidy yourself up a little when you feel something leaking down your thighs. Your hands go between your legs as your face turns red.

“Yeah yeah, thanks. Look just get us out of here, it’s getting hot in this box.” He grumbles into the phone before hanging it up. Zipping up his jeans he pulls a rag from his back pocket. “It’s clean.”

You take it and clean up the leak. “Thanks.” Your attention is turned away as you clean yourself up. “Want me to dry clean it before I return it?”

Eustass laughs. “Nah, keep it.”

“A memento then?” You muse with a chuckle. “Oh, hey, I never did ask - what’re you here for today?”

“Finalizing the paperwork on the shop.” He says. “Starting my own business.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Oh? Congratulations.” You offer a smile. “I’m sure it’ll succeed.”

“Mm, thanks.” He replies absently.

There’s a moment of silence between you and you hear people outside the doors working on getting you out. You and Eustass take turns tidying one another up, since there’s no mirror to use, and make yourselves as presentable as possible.

As the doors open, Eustass turns to you with a grin. “So, I hear you’re looking for a job?”

#one piece eustass kid #one piece smut #one piece fanfiction #one shot #reader insert #eustass x reader

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s0ft-d3cay · 7 months

Text

Boxed Reveal

Shigaraki x Male Reader | This is one I've been wanting to write for a hot minuet, you guys have no idea. The next Shigaraki one shot I have will be a big and emotional one, so just a heads up.

Warnings: playfully teasing, he calls you a brat, no use of Y/N, reader is very playful, establish relationship because that man needs some loving, gift giving, reader has a quirk that neutralizes Shigaraki's quirk and he uses that to make the item, lots of kissing, slight mention of being pulled into a lap...and very fluff ridden

WC:749

It was a lazy day, one you’d been planning on having ever since Shigaraki and the League became the PLF. Now with the man hugging you from behind in bed, just the normal amount of overly affectionate from the villain. You then remembered your ‘surprise’ you’ve been working on for him.

"Hey, I've to get something really quick, but I need you to let go of me for-" "No." Shigaraki cuts in resting his head on your shoulder, hands snaking around your waist tightly. Even his legs wrapped around your own, the man was currently trapping you in a hug. "Come on Shiggs, you can hold me once I-" You offer was cut off as his hold around you tighten even more, causing you to giggle out.

"No, you’re staying right here. I don’t care if you have a surprise for me. I’m not letting you go." Your hands rub his forearms and hair lightly, feeling him nuzzle against your neck. Choosing to not leave him in such a vulnerable state, you decide to compromise. "Alright, I’ll just bring the gift to you then." You materialized the box on the window sill beside him. Red's and purple's circle the area before dissipating around a box.

You soon feel him sigh deeply, his warm breath wafting over your shoulder. He leave kisses behind your ear softly, before pulling his head away from your shoulder. "Fine, I’ll bite. What’s in the box, brat?" Smiling wide with an excited laugh, you turn to quickly kiss his lips enthusiastically. Sitting up to your knees to reach out, picking up the medium sized box.

Shigaraki sits up, keeping his hands on your waist and hips. Frail fingers mindlessly tracing over your skin. Shivering at the small contacted, you turn around to fully face him. Overly excited as you placed it on his lap. He looks at you suspiciously, side eyeing the box. "Are you trying to court me?" The man questions with a smirk, his hands move away from your body, holding the box closer to himself.

"Yes, I am." You answered playfully, leaning in to kiss his lips again. This kiss was soft and lovingly, their mouths melding against one another in-tandem. You pull away slow, whispering in a playfully tone. "It’s a little something I thought you might like..." He glances at you breathlessly for a moment before opening the box.

A flash of the trench coat, a blood red outer fabric with a deep purple interior. Shigaraki freezes, pulling the trench coat out of the box, feeling the fabric beneath his fingers carefully. "You lost your other one in the fight with Redestro so...I thought I’d make you a new one and um…try to decay it." You say quietly, he turns to you quick at your last words.

"What?" The villain breathes out in disbelief, "Try to decay it, go on." You tell him with a confident grin, he looks back at the trench coat. Unsure, he holds his breath as his fifth finger moves closer to the fabric. "I’m gonna to be so fucking mad if it turns to dust…" He says before setting down his final finger. The coat remains, you watch as his grip on it tightens. Still nothing, you hear a sigh of relief. He pulls the coat to his chest, hugging it like a child would with their favorite toy. You watch as a warm smile graces his face.

"Oh, I’m trying this on right now." He giddily moves off the bed, putting it on quick; fitting perfectly over his frame. You watch as he feels the fabric again, both hands in the pockets. He spins giggling happily, he glances towards you, eyes gleaming in joy as he asks. "Well, how do I look?" His grin widens as he laughs, posing dramatically.

Breathless and flustered, you try to form a sentence in your mind. He walks up to you slow, with a mischievous look in his eyes. "You look good, it...really suits you.…" Shigaraki stands right over you, both arms trapping you on the bed. He hums out a breathy chuckle, leaning down to kiss you. With a soft gasp, your hands slide up to grasp the trench coat, pulling him down on top of you. Lips morphing to hungry kisses and touches, pulling you down to his lap.

"You’re cute when you’re flustered~" He whispers with a teasing giggle before capturing your lips once more, reveling in your warmth and presence.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights of any of the characters I write about, all the rights go to their respective creators.

#tomura shigaraki x male reader #shigaraki x male reader #male reader #bnha villains x male reader #shigaraki tomura x male reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #soft shigaraki #Seraphimsbrainwritings

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sodamnradd · 1 year

Text

"Please." Draco collapsed at the foot of his bed, head hanging low. “Give me a sign you’re alive.”

She watched him pore over countless missives, hiring every private investigator in the country to look for her. Throwing violent tantrums each time they shared bad news.

“I’m here!” she screamed soundlessly behind a glass wall.

Harry arrived one afternoon juggling a tower of boxes. “If anyone finds out I copied these—”

“They won’t.”

For weeks Draco sifted through Hermione’s files, certain one of her projects had gone awry and someone was holding her captive.

Morsels of food appeared in her jar every day.

Though Draco barely glanced her way, she was a lovely creature, even with six legs and an exoskeleton.

No closer to finding her, he became haggard and pale, haunted by night terrors of Hermione’s boundless torture.

“You know the statistics, darling, the first forty-eight hours,” urged Narcissa. “She’d want you to move on.”

A year passed before he brought another woman to his room.

Astoria Greengrass lifted the jar from his shelf and gushed over her pretty wings. “Oh! They shimmer like stardust. I’ve never seen one like this before.”

Draco said nothing, focused on the starry night beyond the open window, turmoiled. “She's not coming back.”

Astoria went quiet.

“Do you really believe that?” she asked softly, coming up beside him.

“No,” he realised aloud, rubbing his fist over his chest. “I’d know if she were dead.”

“Set it free.” Astoria presented the jar. “Maybe the universe will free your Hermione in return.”

Draco didn’t take it. “I don’t believe in that sort of thing.”

“Would Hermione?”

“No,” he said immediately. “She especially wouldn’t.”

Astoria lifted her chin indignantly. “Something this beautiful shouldn’t be trapped in a jar.”

There came a loud screeching noise and then cold air roared across Hermione’s wings. The cleanest, freshest, most beautiful air she had ever breathed.

Wings fanning wide, she sprang out of the jar and fluttered around the room in dizzy, animated spirals before landing on Draco’s pointy nose, facing the bruise black shadows beneath his eyes.

He shook her off.

Undeterred, she resettled on his forehead.

“It’s annoying,” he muttered, flicking at her with his forefinger and thumb. Prat.

“Maybe it’s trying to tell you something.”

“Would you stop that?” He shot Astoria an irritated look. “You’re starting to sound like Lovegood.”

Astoria ignored him. “Could be enchanted. Who gave it to you?”

“Mother.” He gave up on flicking Hermione, who now sat on the pulse point of his neck, starving for the scent of his skin.

I’m here, she latched onto him with her feather light limbs.

“That explains it.” Astoria’s eyes lit up. “She must have charmed it to stay put. Do you mind if I set it free?”

“Go on,” he mumbled irately, blowing on her wings to encourage her to fly away. Hermione found the sensation soothing.

With a swish of her wand, Astoria cast, “Finite Incantatem.”

He yelped as her full weight came crashing down on him. Disoriented, he blinked several times, then shot up to his elbows, gaze alight with hope. “Hermione?”

She was straddling Draco. Perfect, moody, tangible Draco.

“It’s me,” she rasped. Throat sore, and joints aching, fingers too stiff to curl. She pressed her forehead to his without breaking eye contact.

“This whole time,” he remarked breathlessly, hasty fingers touching her everywhere—jaw, neck, lips, waist, thighs—mesmerized. “I had you this whole time.”

(575 words, something I wrote April last year)

#sodamnrad #dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #hermione x draco #dhr #dramione drabble #drabble #sodamnraddrabbles

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punks-never-die205 · 1 year

Text

Elevator Music

Fem Reader x Eustass Kid

One Shot - 2,956 words

CW: Language, sexual themes and situations, semi-public sex, elevator sex, rough sex, consensual, modern au, Kid has both arms. 18+ only

Inspired by this tumblr post about being trapped in an elevator with the person on your lockscreen.

Note: This one-shot has been officially EXPANDED. Elevated will begin posting here shortly, and picks up after this one shot, thank you!

“Eleven.” He answers. His voice is a little like gravel but not unpleasant.

You press the button and return to your phone, stealing a few sideways glances as politely as you could. Shame you didn’t have business with him, but the elevator ride was improved at least.

The elevator doesn’t move. Smooth, jerkily, or otherwise.

But after a few rings there’s a voice. It’s too muffled to make out, but you can hear your fellow trapped passenger.

“Yeah, the elevator’s stuck.” There’s muffled talking and he looks around and looks at you. “See anything that says what car this is?”

“Six?” You prompt, pointing to a number just under the floor button.

He hands you the phone and you make a face before taking it. “Yell-o?” You say, unsure what was going on.

“Ma’am, we need to know if you feel threatened.” The voice on the other end of the line says.

“Huh?”

“If you feel unsafe we can probably get authorization to break the doors open and getting you out before the fire department arrives.”

“… You’re not afraid of me?”

You tilt your head. “No, why would I be?”

He grunts. “It’s fine then, you can lie, it won’t bother me.”

You speak back into the phone. “Hello? Yes, uh, yes, I am so if you could-.”

“For insurance reasons you’ll have to officially press charges ma’am.” The man on the other end of the line explains. “My supervisor just informed me.”

“Oh. Well, no then. Just get us out of here as fast as you can. I was on my way to an interview.” You reply. “I’d rather not miss it. Did you need to speak to him again?”

“No ma’am. We’ll call once we have an ETA for you. You can hang up for now.”

He shrugs and sits down in the corner by the phone. “What’s your name, doll?”

“Anything but that,” you say with a smile, sitting down across from him, being mindful of your interview outfit. “(Y/N). What’s yours, red?”

He grunts. “Anything but that.” He echoes. “Eustass Kid.”

“Well, Mr. Eustass, my apologies for not pressing charges on you.” You say with a grin.

He grunts a laugh, and leans his head back. “Hope you make your interview.”

“Ha! Thanks.” You sigh. “I’m kind of glad to be missing it, but it won’t matter. I’ll just have to try again tomorrow.” You admit with a sigh.

“Oh?”

“Yeeeeeah, it’s my dad’s company. I could give two shits less about it, quite frankly, but I’ve been black listed.”

“Huh?” Eustass looked at you with actual interest for the first time since he got into the elevator. “Are you saying your old man kept other companies from hiring you?”

“… You don’t have to have it hard for something to suck ass.” He says after a moment. “Your dad’s a real bastard.”

You grin. “Thanks.”

A few more minutes pass and the elevator phone rings. Eustas picks it up and listens for a few moments before replying. “Sure, we’ll be fine. If anything changes we’ll call.”

You lean back with a bit of a sigh. You weren’t sad to be missing the interview, but you also weren’t thrilled to spend an hour or more in a box, eight floors off the ground.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” He asks, not even looking up from his phone.

“Yes.” You reply with a smile, watching a grin cross his face before he looks up at you.

“Not what I expected.”

“You sound like you’re looking to get into trouble.” He says, sitting up a little and giving you more of his attention.

“Are you offering to help, Eustass Kid?”

“Whatcha looking to get out of this?” He asks, hands gripping your ass and squeezing it.

“An orgasm comparable to that cocky look on your face.” You muse, causing his grin to twist perfectly.

“Ha! Alright,” he grabs your hair and pulls you close, but not quite enough to kiss. “I meant past those doors opening, but I can work with that.”

The sweet mewling gasp that escapes you is devoured by Eustass as he pulls you into a deep kiss. There’s no tenderness in the passionate kiss, no ode of love or promise of tomorrow, but it��s as greedy and needy as you are and you sink into it.

Your fingers fumble with his belt as heat builds between you, a pleased hum is all the consent you need as you begin to undo his jeans.

“Honor system then,” you practically pant the words. “You clean?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus.” You mutter.

“Having second thoughts?” He seems pleased instead of concerned.

You’re so wet you slide against him easily. You both take a moment to enjoy the pleasure from the contact and you can feel him twitching against you.

“Hells you are soaked.” He licks his lips and leans you back a little, lining himself up with your entrance. “You can go at your own pace, but I want to see this.”

“Got about twenty minutes.” He says, hands on your hips, helping you move once you set your pace.

“Ah, damn,” you gasp, grinning at him salaciously. “A quickie then, eh?”

He nearly barks a laugh, before giving you an amused grin. “If twenty minutes is quick in your book, I’m curious what a proper amount of time is?”

The elevator phone begins to ring.

“Ah-aan-answer that – hnggh! – and I w-will kill you!” You gasp as you can feel yourself nearly there.

“Cum for me little mouse,” he growls, tongue teasing your neck.

“What?”

You take it and clean up the leak. “Thanks.” Your attention is turned away as you clean yourself up. “Want me to dry clean it before I return it?”

Eustass laughs. “Nah, keep it.”

“A memento then?” You muse with a chuckle. “Oh, hey, I never did ask - what’re you here for today?”

“Finalizing the paperwork on the shop.” He says. “Starting my own business.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Oh? Congratulations.” You offer a smile. “I’m sure it’ll succeed.”

“Mm, thanks.” He replies absently.

As the doors open, Eustass turns to you with a grin. “So, I hear you’re looking for a job?”

Original tumblr post!

#one shot #Elevator Music #prelude #Elevated #eustass kid #x reader #reader insert

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simplydannie · 5 months

Note

Oooh! What if Veneer looks back on the good times he and Velvet had with Floyd like how Merida looked back on a childhood memory of her mom, remembers what Floyd means to him, frees him, and urges him to leave? With the parting being similar to how Poppy and Bridget parted.

Also, with the context of Floyd being V&V's father figure and V&V having known him since they were thirteen, I don't think it would make sense for Veneer to refer to Floyd as a little guy.

No definitely not. But I’d like think the poison of too much Troll essence alters your brain chemistry. Some reality and illusion tend to collide. Veneer would loose those memories of what Floyd really mean to him.

First of all, Brave is one of my all time favorite movies!! And omg yess!! That would be the sweetheart gesture, sweetest moment they could share! The bracelet in this story derives from the my story here :

Let Go

They did it.

Velvet and Veneer had won the Lifer Award. They were at the top, and that’s where Velvet, and their manager, intended for them to stay. But at what cost? Nearly the cost of the life of a little Troll who was once dear to them.

Floyd was on the brink of death…. There was still no sign of Brozone. Veneer surely thought that their performance at the Rage Doom would’ve killed him, but the little Troll had a lot of fight.

All this because Veneer got mad at him, because he grew afraid that Floyd would’ve really left him… so he trapped him. Now here they were, literally sucking the life out of him.

Veneer tossed and turned that night. He couldn’t sleep, as if memories were trying to come back to him. He knew at one point the Troll meant something to him. He’d have dream at night, dream about the small Troll caring for them. But those were just dreams weren’t they? Dreams about something he truly desired…. A family.

Veneer took a deep breath and finally closed his eyes, humming to himself a tune he heard a while ago. As he drifted, the dreams started coming back to him:

In this dream he awoke one morning to find a box slid under his door. He went over, knelt down and opened it. There was a note:

Veneer,

There’s so much I want to give you. So much I’d do for you and your sister, but the means right now won’t allow it. This is a little something from culture I want to pass down to you. I hope it fits. And I hope you love it’s.

Love, Floyd.

Opening the box was a bracelet, a bracelet woven together with bright colors of string and yarn. He couldn’t remember why he was feeling sad, but he felt that sadness go away. Joy came to Veneer as he put the bracelet on. He ran to his drawer and took a paper and pen….

In another dream, it was Veneer crying alone. He came home from school one day and went straight toward his room. He avoided anyone so not to worry them, but the one little person who noticed was Floyd. He silently entered Veneers room, tiptoeing to the closet where he could hear the young Rageouns cry, Veneer was 16 at the time.

“Ven?” Floyd called out.

“I’m fine! My tummy just hearts.” Veneer lied. Floyd didn’t take any chances. He pushed open the closet door. Floyd found Veneer curled up at the corner of his closet, his face hidden between his knees.

“Ven?” The small Troll crawled up on Veneers knees, placing a small hand on his head. “Ven, look at me.” Veneer slowly but surely lifted his head. “Ven! What, what happened?”

His right eye was bruised, lip split open.

“They… I don’t know they all make fun of me… why the other kids my age don’t like me. Am I really that strange? That different?” Veneer sobbed back into his knees.

“No! Don’t you dare think that! People who punish you for being who you are afraid of you. It’s because you’re different that your special.” Floyd declared.

“I just want a friend Floyd….just one friend.”

“It’s better to be surrounded by the few who love you than those who wouldn’t care. You’ll make that friend one day, Ven. I love you for who you and your sister both are.”…….

Veneers eyes bursted wide open.

He sat up on his bed. Throwing the sheets off of him, he marched to his drawer. Something came to his mind. He wasn’t sure if it was a memory, or just a dream. Opening a small compartment, he stuck his hand inside, rummaging around, wondering if he’d find it….. There was nothing. He was about to give up hope until…Veneers hand fell upon something. Pulling it out he saw it…..

The bracelet from his dream…. Only it wasn’t a dream, those were all memories. Floyd really had meant something to them. And not just a mere friend… but family…. A father. Clenching his fists, Veneer took a deep breath and walked out his door.

Floyd laid inside the encased diamond. He wasn’t sure how he survived the Rage Dome show, but he was glad that his brothers weren’t there yet, it meant they were safe somewhere. He heard the door open in whatever room he was in, too weak to look up… Floyd slowly began to except that he breath he took would’ve been his last.

Floyd could feel the diamond be lifted… he opened his eyes to see who it was, but everything was a blur. He was weak, so, so weak. The small Troll could hear a voice, faint, and familiar, but he couldn’t make it out.

Floyd felt the diamond move and shake gently. He body slowly rolled out of the diamond, on to something warm.

“Floyd?” The voice was sad, it seemed like tears were in his eyes. “Floyd. Please move. Please do something.” The small manger to turn his head slightly towards the object in which the voice was coming from.

“…..Veneer….” His words soft, barely audible. Floyd closed his eyes, his breaths becoming slower.

“Please don’t did Floyd! I remember now. I remember everything. I don’t know why I couldn’t, but I do now. Please stay with me. I’m sorry Floyd! I didn’t mean to trap you in the diamond. I was scared of you leaving me. I didn’t want you to leave.” Veneer said through tears.

The Troll made no acknowledgements, no movement, he continued just lie there motionless, breaths becoming slower and slower.

“Floyd please.” He cried again, caressing the small Troll in his hand. “I’m sorry! I-I can’t loose another one…I can’t loose another dad.” He cried, tears slowly rolling down his face. “Velvet is sorry too, I know she is. She just has to remember just like me. And she will. Please….Please dad.”

Floyd slowly opened his eyes. He turned to look at Veneer, his eyes were closed, head resting against his arms as he still held Floyd. He suddenly saw the young 13 year old he met. The curious boy who saved him and brought him in….

“I’m sorry for almost leaving you guys.” Floyd managed to say, his color slowly return to him. Veneer lifted his head, his eyes filled with happiness as the small Troll slowly started to come back. Veneer nuzzled the Troll close to his face.

It felt like old times, they were just missing Velvet… but it occurred to Veneer that Floyd wasn’t safe. No matter if he and Velvet remembered, their manager would find a way to get her hands on the Troll and the rest of his family. Veneer stood up and walked over towards a vent. Taking off the cover, he peered inside… it seemed safe enough for Floyd, they had to lead somewhere.

Sensing a shift in behavior, Floyd gathered the strength to stand.

“Ven?”

“….You have to go….”

“What?” Floyd peered down the vent Veneer motioned too. “No! Not without you. Not without Velvet. We leave together! I learned my lesson. I let you fall into the hands of that evil woman who’s done nothing but abuse and groom you!”

“You have to go. Go find your brothers…. Your family.” Gently wrapping his hand around Floyd, Veneer held him over the vent. The Troll held a firm grasp on his hand, hugging his thumb.

“You guys are my family too! I’m done leaving family behind.” Floyd hugged Veneers thumb tightly, tears going down his face. Veneer smiled softly.

“You have to let go.”

“No!” He held on tighter.

“….Im sorry.” Veneer wrapped his other hand around Floyd gently, pulling his little embrace away. He held him over the vent and let go. Veneer covered the vent so Floyd couldn’t manage using his hair to climb back up. Tears rolled down his face as he heard Floyd call out his name as he went down…

But he was free… Veneer only had to deal with what consequences lay ahead.

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prettygoododds · 8 months

Text

Thank you @nausikaaa @facewithoutheart @hushed-chorus @artsyunderstudy & @shemakesmeforget for the tags.

I’m slowly working in the next chapter of Sugar and I’ve definitely decided the chapter I’m irked about but can’t seem to put my finger on how to fix, will be posted Friday. So while you wait for Chapter 12 here’s a look forward to chapter 13

“This is absurd! We are meant to look like professionals, not…. Whatever this is!”

I’m pacing the room, dumbfounded by the mere idea of wearing something so unprofessional while Simon is almost bursting with joy.

“The fans are going to go nuts!” he says, lifting his orange overalls out of the box and examining them with glee. His delight is almost enough to make me forget how much I hate them. Though the orange atrocities quickly get thrown on my sofa and forgotten when he sees what was lying under them. “A FISH! Do we all get fishes to yeet this game?!?! Have all my dreams come true?!”

“Here I was under the impression that I was your walking fantasy,” I say sarcastically but the way Simon smirks at me makes me wish I’d kept my mouth shut.

“My walking fantasy is you in this get up yeeting your fish down my throat.” He says and I can’t help but cringe, but he’s completely unaffected.

“Even the hat?” I ask.

“Especially the hat,” he says and he’s got me trapped between him and my lounge chair. I don’t know how he managed to sneak up on me when I was watching him the whole time, but I find myself pleasantly unnerved by his closeness.

For those that missed it, I was bursting with joy when I saw the Kraken team walk out in these gems for their Winter Classic game

Here’s hoping I can keep up the pace and have another chapter ready without making you wait (smiles nervously)

No pressure tags: @ic3-que3n @dohrnaira @thewholelemon @imagineacoolusername @ivelovedhimthroughworse @ionlydrinkhotwater @wellbelesbian @rimeswithpurple @aristocratic-otter @cutestkilla @blackberrysummerblog @supercutedinosaurs @nightimedreamersworld @valeffelees @iamamythologicalcreature @shrekgogurt @ileadacharmedlife @martsonmars @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

#Simon is cringe #Simon also doesn’t care #yeet the fish #sugar we’re going down swingin #prettygoododdsfic #simon snow #baz pitch #carry on fandom #simon snow series #snobaz #carry on series #snowbaz #simon and baz #simon baz #work in progresss wednesday

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beautifulpersonpeach · 1 year

Note

Bpp my love what do you think about people who bias hoseok (knowing hes one of your faves)

***

It’s a bit weird for me to answer this because then I’d also be talking about myself. But you asked, with an odd but sweet endearment attached, so I’ll try.

Deep down, we're all Type A bitches with a specific kind of kink. No point sugarcoating it. And Hoseok scratches that itch.

Whatever he is, we see it and we're mad for it. We’re all gaga for him and shameless about it.

I mean,

Holy Mary Mother of Christ that is a man who is serving cunt sweet and hot.

Not to be vulgar, it's just hard to talk about Hoseok, to think about the choices he’s made as an artist - the way he quietly supports the team with practical advise, the way he chooses when to use music or dance to communicate his point, the way he balances how severe he is in his beliefs and principles, with the emotional and physical needs and limitations of the team, his very palpable ambition as an artist and the skill he exhibits every time he gets in the booth or steps on a stage… It’s hard to talk about this man without wanting to bite my fist.

But one thing I do want to say before I lose the plot is I’m glad to see how healthy he looked at Yoongi's concert. He looked happy and content, alert and savvy, basically himself. And that made me happy. But with Hoseok, it's not like I really worried for him in the first place. You know? I think other Hoseok biases would agree or at least, know what I mean. Military service comes with specific challenges that I don't doubt he's capable of handling. Though it’s also possible he's not exposed to the most extreme risks, so that could be working in his favour as well.

When I think of Hoseok as a person, his conscientiousness is the first thing that grips my heart. It’s something Hoseok biases recognize instinctively I think. That man cares about the work he does. He cares so much about everything in his life, that sometimes I worry that he could burn out fast. But that care is also one reason he’s become one of the best in the field, at just 10 years into his career.

That care he puts into his work translates so beautifully into his music btw. As a quick experiment, I'd like you to listen to Dionysus.

(This is the extended version from Mama 2019)

youtube

What do you think? Have you heard anything that sounds exactly like that, anywhere? Have you ever heard a song that combines punk rock, synth-pop, and acid trap, to express the joy, anguish and momentary insanity an artist experiences when making the effort to create something worthwhile… a song that uses Dionysus - the God of fertility and wine, the patron of the arts, as the central lyrical motif. Do you notice the production choices in the pre-chorus and bridge?

Dionysus is easily one of the best made songs in all of k-pop. In my opinion. And it was made primarily by Jung Hoseok.

Hobi biases see that he’s the kind of person to care a lot. He takes constructive criticism seriously, he wants his craft to be assessed with no bias or favouritism. Just honest, raw, expressions and feedback, that’s one of his primary goals and you can see that in the lyrical and stylistic choices in Jack in the Box.

Hoseok biases see all that in him, and we cream our panties.

That’s the truth don’t lie.

This is going to sound so pretentious but it has be said because it’s true: Hoseok’s cerebral intensity, the way he loses himself inside his work, is such a turn on. I’ve said before that I can see why a lot of people in the fandom underestimate him or don’t really bother to look past the giggly, goofy, sweet and social media savvy Hobi cheerleading the members, but Hobi is the only member who could show up wielding a riding crop and I won’t laugh in his face.

Because we all know, he’d know exactly what to do with it, he’d enjoy pushing you to your limits because that is what he does himself, and that you’d enjoy it.

Hypothetically.

Anyway,

Another reason his conscientiousness matters to me, is because I recognize that for Hobi, the 'work' he loves includes his team. His love for his work boosts my confidence in BTS as a lasting unit. Because Hoseok cares too much about his work to risk losing them, simply because they are so connected to it.

It's so simple with him.

Taking it back to Hoseok biases, we like to act superior, like we're not also sluts for his visuals. We act like we appreciate him in a more holistic sense. But the fact is that we see him, and bark.

I'm just going to come out and say it. I'm proof. I barked. On reflex. I don't know how it happened exactly, but I saw this pic one Friday afternoon and the sound that left my mouth certainly wasn't human.

Generally and maybe hypothetically speaking here, toys are nice and all, but completely unnecessary when Hoseok exists and you’ve allowed yourself to be chosen by him. His music, his person, seeing him in his element is all it takes.

I mean…

The details… Sheesh.

Everything about Hoseok and his sense of style is a gag.

He’s just always, so Effortlessly himself.

….two fingers would be enough. Just saying. Two fingers would do the job.

He's too smooth for his own good.

Some people somehow forget this happened and well, now I'm reminding them. Look at him, really look at him... isn't he perfect?

This isn’t a hot pic but it’s one of my favourites of him. This is the only pic in this post from my top 30 Hobi pics. Enjoy.

When he does cute it's a very particular type of cute.

…

I miss Hobi.

This doesn't happen often, but sometimes I wish time didn't exist for a while and we could be in 2026 now. We'd get to see Hoseok 3.0 and my god will that be a sight. Their performances are already god-tier even in hiatus (thank God for those three encore concerts that showcased the active members in their element), so imagine how unrestrained they will be, how epic their performances will be then.

If there’s one thing I’m nearly certain about with BTS, it’s that the wait will always be worth it. And a big reason I can say that is because the team has Jung Hoseok.

I just hope Hobi biases can keep our shit together till then because heaven knows we’re…

You know.

Stream Jack in the Box, put an order in for your box set version if you haven’t gotten around to doing that yet, get yourself your caffeinated drug of choice (mine today is a flat white with whole milk. I’m not really an Americano gal), and enjoy Chapter 2.

#one more thing #this could be just me #but I love that he’s a scaredy-cat #I love that about him so much #It's the one thing that fully humanizes him for me #hoseok #jung hoseok #Hobi #j hope #BTS #Bangtan #bts rapline #rapline bias

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sebastianswallows · 1 year

Text

A new family — Chapter 8

— PAIRING: dark!Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

— SYNOPSIS: Ominis gets tired of his family and how miserable life is with them after he graduates. So he follows Sebastian's example for once, and kills them in cold blood. Now that he has the mansion to himself, he discovers he would still like to have a family, but one of his own making.

— WARNINGS: smut, a bit of body worship, a lot of teasing, and Omi being good with his mouth 🐍

— WORDCOUNT: 2.6k

— TAGLIST: @littletealight @skarathewitch @myrachondria @mrimperio @ssnapsaurus @tarotwitchy-main @hufflepuff-16 @shameless0shenanigans @imaslytherpuff @adoxra

It wasn’t her first time seeing Ominis’ room, and it was also her first time not seeing it. They were in the dark, the moon merely winking through the curtains. He wanted it that way, and she did too — to know him, understand his world, become closer to him in every way now that they were married.

She’d changed sometime during the day out of the wedding dress she’d slept in to a plain grey dress, and Ominis to a black suit. The brief conversation with the snake on his property lingered in her mind, and she grew more and more anxious as noon grew into evening, but now that they were at the beginning of their first night together, he made her wait. She dared not cast a Lumos, nor keep her wand at hand, while she paced around the bedchamber alone.

She heard the door creak open and turned, and smiled at the sight of her new husband’s silhouette against the hallway before he plunged them into darkness again.

“I’ve found it,” he said cheerfully, trotting toward her in three wide steps.

“Will you tell me what it is now?” she laughed.

“No, I love keeping you in suspense.”

“Tease…”

“That’s right,” he grinned. “Best get used to it, wife.”

He placed something on the vanity behind her, a box by the sound of it, and opened it. His right hand went to her chest, keeping her still, while he unhooked something with the other. She stood and waited, and then Ominis picked it up. A chime sparkled through the air behind her, announcing a broad and jewelled necklace. She felt its weight against her chest when Ominis laid it upon her, and then his arms went around her neck to fasten it.

“What’s this?”

“A gift,” he smiled. “Family heirloom. Silver with emeralds and pearls.”

She brushed her hand against it. Although heavy, it felt so delicate, like woven lace or spider silk. “It’s beautiful…”

“It’s yours,” said Ominis, leaning in to brush his lips against hers. “And you make a fitting mistress.”

He took something else out, some sort of fabric: the gloves. He put them on and caressed the necklace and the dress it lay on.

“Not sure I’ve tasted green before,” he whispered with pleasure. “Quite raw, and fresh on the tongue… But there’s something… feeble about it.”

“The emeralds, they’re translucent,” she said, “like glass.”

“Ah. Not like the pearls, then,” he said, his hand caressing lower. “Sweetened milk and sand… Strange combination. And the silver tastes like a sharp winter breeze, piercing but light. Why do you giggle?”

“I am happy, of course. You’re enjoying my gift…”

“And I plan to enjoy it to the fullest,” he smirked, leaning in for another brief kiss. “Not sure about this dress, though.”

“Oh?”

“Doesn’t go well with the jewels. I’d say they’d look better against your skin. What do you think?”

Ominis must have felt her breathing quicken, might have even heard her heart beat faster, because without another word, he set his wand down on the vanity behind her and began to undo her dress. He started at the neck where it was fastened tightly, pushing aside the decorative lace, and revealed her bit by bit. He pushed aside the collar until he reached her shoulders, then pushed it down more. Her arms were a bit trapped, but she would not have moved anyway while she waited for him.

There was barely a glimmer of moonlight shining on her husband’s face, but she didn’t need it, anyway. She felt what he was doing, felt all of him through his hands that touched her, and his breath that brushed against her, and the warmth of his body. When he finally tugged down enough of her clothes to let the necklace rest against her skin, he brushed his gloved fingers down it, from her neck to the top of her breasts.

“Exquisite,” he breathed. “Just as I knew you would be.”

“Do you mean me, or the jewels?” she chuckled.

“You are the jewel. You are all the jewels in the world and more.”

She put her hand on his above her chest and leaned in to kiss him. Her other hand caught his shoulder and held onto him. He was a voice in the dark, a warm touch in a cold room… Ominis was everything to her.

Piece by piece, he took her clothes off. At the edge of her mind, she knew she should feel embarrassed, but his presence calmed her, his slow and careful touches and the way he handled her. And when he was done, and she could slip her fingers through to him, she helped him out of his clothes too.

He felt the way she always thought he would: hard bones, soft skin, and very, very sensitive… Any touch that fell below the neckline caused him to gasp, to shiver, and even to giggle nervously. When she kneeled to remove his boots, just like he’d done with hers, she took the time to kiss each knee in turn and pet his lean, long thighs.

She left one glove still on though, wanting her husband to be able to both feel and taste her, and he left on the necklace. It rattled against her neck when he laid her on the bed.

He was trembling, and she was too by now, and the noise of their excited breathing filled the air. She felt somewhat relieved at the darkness, because she wasn’t sure she could stand to see him too — pale and unravelled and beautiful, with those plush lips and that soft hair so undone where it was once so proper. She dared only run her fingers along the length of his jaw, to guess where he was, and kiss him, and as she did so, caressed him further down: his long neck, his clavicles, his shoulders, and the softer flesh of his chest.

“You tickle,” he whispered, smiling against her lips.

“Tickle me back, then,” she grinned.

Ominis chuckled softly and stopped to think for a moment, before he brought a hand up to her chin — the gloved one — and with his thumb, he felt her lips. He circled and circled that entrance into her body until they tingled, pausing the breath in her chest. His legs slowly entangled hers, stretching and spreading her on the bed, and then his hand moved lower. He held her by the neck, letting her head hand backwards, and as his hand continued to explore her body, he kissed her throat.

She purred, and the sound of it sank into his lips, turning into something desperate when he cupped her breast. He held its weight, played with it a little, then ran his gloved thumb across her tip. His new wife jumped slightly, giggling in embarrassment at her own reaction, but the weight of his body held her down.

“Good?” asked Ominis smugly. His palm covered her, then closed, slow and teasing, until he caught her nipple between thumb and index finger.

“Intense,” she whispered with a trembling breath. The motion rattled the necklace that pooled at the bottom of her neck.

He laughed against her skin and she felt a hint of his teeth before he started kissing her again.

The other hand joined him, holding her torso like she was a gift he was unwrapping, and then both hands brushed down her sides until he found her hips. His lips soon followed behind, gentle pecks with whispers of ‘I love you’ in between and teasing licks like serpent kisses. He stopped once at her breast to suckle it, warming the puckered tip against his tongue, worrying it until she whined and arched into his mouth. Then, with a smirk, he released it, wet and hardened, to move onto the other and give it the same treatment.

“Ominisss,” she whimpered, fingers curling in his hair. “You tease me…”

He moaned, and chuckled, and released her breast with a parting kiss. “And you haven’t teased me plenty?”

“H-how do you mean?” she grinned.

“You don’t realise what it was like, being with you all the time?”

“You invited me here,” she pointed out — but he continued, undeterred.

“The scent of you has come to fill this house, your favourite places in particular,” he sighed, hands kneading her hips, kisses trailing lower, down to where her heart was and the bottom of her ribs. “Your steps, so light and gentle, greeting me each day when you awoke. Your voice, rough and tired in the morning, sounding as if… as if… as if you’d just spent the whole night making love,” he rasped. “Drove me insane…”

“You never told me…”

“How could I?” he said, lapping all along her lowest ribs with the lightest touch of his tongue. “Let you laugh at how besotted I was? How you had me wrapped around your littlest finger? Or worse, you’d have run off the very next day…”

She did not deny it. Her nails sank into his hair when she thought back to the earlier days of her stay, when she was so unsure of everything, confused by his behaviour, and felt like she never would belong to a house of the Gaunts — even with them disappeared under mysterious circumstances, not that that made matters better. She was glad now to have waited.

“But I fell in love with you,” she said lightly, brushing his ruffled hair away.

Ominis hummed in agreement. “And not a moment too soon.”

His gloved hand stayed on her breast, playing with her nipple, but his lips had reached the soft surface of her stomach and he kissed the whole expanse. She couldn’t help but tense and giggle, tummy dipping at the teasing licks. It was as if he were trying to taste what was beneath, assess her flesh and readiness… The air filled with the noise of kisses and his deep inhales as Ominis breathed her in.

After leaving her waist cold and wet from his adoring mouth, his hands joined once again to hold her hips, and he held her still more firmly than before. She could not tell why until she felt the press of his kiss against her mound.

“Oh,” she gasped to a nervous rattling of pearls, her body almost curling in on itself. “O-omi—”

“Mmmm, sweet,” he whispered, nuzzling her womanhood, “just as I knew you’d be.”

“You’ve thought about this…”

“Many times.”

His left hand cupped her thigh and pushed it gently to the side, and with a gloved finger, he touched her at her core. All her muscles clenched at once, and he licked his lips.

“Shall I describe you to yourself?”

“I don’t think I could take it,” she giggled breathlessly.

A slick sound grew as he played with her, and his lustful groan soon followed. The glove was smooth, but still harsher than his fingers, those smooth aristocratic digits she had long admired — and oh how she longed for them now.

“Ominis,” she whispered, “touch me…”

“I don’t think I dare,” he teased. “Listen, listen to how slick you are…” He let the sound of his finger flicking through her slit fill the air. “I daren’t tarnish your gift, my love.”

“But O—”

“So I will have to make do…”

With the glove now cupping her other thigh, he held her open and dipped his head, and brought his tongue straight to her.

“Ominis!”

He moaned at the first real taste of her body, at the hint of her insides, raw and dripping and unbearably hot. His lips puckered to a kiss while his tongue slid out and tickled at her hole. Greedily, he lapped her up, and his hands worked hard to hold her. She writhed on the bed and her muscles tensed and laxed, but she could not escape Ominis’ lips, his kisses, and the prying of his tongue that sought to get deeper and deeper.

Her hands pressed his head lower on her, holding him there, while her legs spread to make more room for him. She nearly arched off the bed, chasing his tongue, but his hands hardened and he pushed her back down on the bed. The show of strength made her whimper, and Ominis chuckled at it, she could even feel it at her core.

“You like being held down,” he whispered teasingly against her folds. “Are you that kind of girl? Are you naughty in that way?”

His words, the way he said it, even the hot breath of him right there, made her body shiver uncontrollably. What could she even say to that?

But Ominis didn’t wait for a reply. Her breath came out in frantic mewls as he suckled her flushed little bud between his lips and pulled it as deep into his mouth as he could. His tongue slid out every few seconds, in an unpredictable and maddening pattern, to tease her hole and bring more of her wetness to his mouth. Beneath her arms, still stretched across her front to hear and ruffle his soft hair, Ominis’ hands came up, as smooth and subtle as a pair of white snakes, and came to rest upon her breasts. The tips of them barely touched the edge of the necklace.

She cried out when he began to pluck her nipples, arching her back for him. They pebbled under his attention and he pinched them plump and painful almost, while with his licks and kisses he tended to her nub.

“Oh… oh… Ominis,” she sobbed, head tilted back with her eyes closed, too dazed to do anything with her body but lay back and let him take it, do whatever he wanted with it.

“So wet,” he sighed, finally pulling away from her slit. Between her juices and his spit, she dripped all the way between her cheeks. “Aren’t you a naughty young lady, letting yourself get into such a state over your school friend…”

“We’re not in school now,” she giggled dazedly.

“Indeed,” Ominis chuckled, pausing to lap at her once more, licking her from the end of her slit to her pearl in one greedy pass of his tongue, “we’re not. Mmm…”

He purred, twirling his thumbs over her nipples in slow circles as he raised himself just slightly, resting his cheek over her stomach.

“And now that we’re not in school anymore,” he grinned, “what do you wish to do?”

She could hardly see him, couldn’t even guess exactly how his body was positioned aside from what she felt. The wetness of his mouth cooled her skin, and the edges of his messy hair that fell over his eyes tickled her tummy. He brought the gloved hand down and plucked it between his teeth, then slowly pulled it off. It fell somewhere on the bed, and then his hands came back up to her breasts, together, strumming her tips relentlessly.

“I… I… Ah!”

She could hardly speak, distracted by the pleasure and the pain and all the new sensations he was causing her. A fresh dollop of wetness plopped out between her folds, pushed out by the greedy contractions of her channel, begging to have him inside.

“I want you,” she whispered, writhing between his body, in his grasp. “Take me… Make love to me,” she begged. “Make me yours… That’s w-what I want.”

She felt Ominis sigh over her stomach, a sweet and gentle feeling. His hands left her breasts to clasp her thighs again, and with great care, he wrapped her legs more tightly on himself. He curled them around his chest, and between them he lifted himself slightly, dragging his body on top of hers much like a snake crawling through grass.

“Do you want me to hold you down,” he asked hotly, whispering to her in the dark, “and mate with you,” kissing the bottom of her ribs, “and make you belong to me?”

“Yes,” she moaned desirously, “I do.”

#Ominis Gaunt #hl #Ominis Gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt imagine #Hogwarts Legacy imagine #Ominis Gaunt x Reader #Ominis Gaunt x MC #Ominis Gaunt smut #Hogwarts Legacy MC #sswallow;made a thing #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;a new family

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firawren · 2 months

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"The Rose Brides" A Beauty and the Beast retelling fanfic

Chapter 10, “Escalation,” rated T, now posted on AO3!

Excerpt from Chapter 10:

He shouldn’t, but he really, really wanted to go with her. It was so boring and disheartening being alone in his room with nothing but the oppressive feeling of the spirits to keep him company. Belle’s company would be infinitely better. And at least he wouldn’t be alone with her—Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth would be there too, so nothing really intimate could happen between him and Belle again, like that kiss on his cheek that wouldn’t stop replaying in his mind. No, it would just be a casual game with three people who he all cared about equally and platonically.

“Alright, I’ll come play,” he agreed, and he made sure to take no notice of the way her face might have lit up in delight at that. The fact that his heart started thumping faster, as if in sympathetic delight at her delight, was just a coincidence.

Belle led him to the small sitting room with the music box in it. There was a cheerful fire crackling in the hearth, with two armchairs pulled up to it, where Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth sat chatting. They looked up toward him when he came in, and both smiled at him.

“Glad you decided to join us, dear,” Mrs. Potts said as he approached.

“Yes, excellent to have your company, sir,” Cogsworth said, much more formally, but still looking at him with as much contented fondness as Mrs. Potts was giving him. Even more of his tension about being with Belle drifted away under such welcoming looks.

He heard scraping across the floor and turned to see Belle pulling wooden chairs up to a small table. He rushed to help her.

“Where’d this table come from?” he asked.

“Cogsworth and I carried it in from another room.”

Adam frowned. “You should have gotten me sooner; I’d have brought it.”

“Cogsworth and I handled it just fine, didn’t we?” Cogsworth inclined his head toward her in confirmation, then Belle turned to Adam and held up her arm to flex her bicep. “I’m a strong, work-roughened peasant, remember?”

Her arms actually did look a little more hearty than when she’d first come to the palace. She’d been so skinny at first, but she’d put on some weight in her months here, and Adam was pleased to see it.

He smiled at her. “Oh yes, very impressive muscles, little one.”

She frowned at the tease, and Adam nearly reached out to pat her head to annoy her further, but then shrunk back, remembering that he ought to be less chummy with her. It was just so hard when she was so friendly and cute all the time.

Continue reading on AO3

Summary:

Lord Adam, born a beast from an ancestral and unbreakable curse, is determined to live in solitude so that his bloodline and curse will finally end with him. Yet magic intervenes and puts a young woman named Belle in his life, bound to his palace from an enchanted rose she plucked. Adam wants nothing to do with this woman who ruined his plans. He certainly is not going to fall in love with her, no matter how sweet and fun and clever he discovers her to be. Belle is not happy to be trapped at the eerie palace either. She had plans to become a famous author and travel the world. But she’s determined to make the best of her situation by making a friend, or maybe something more, if she can ever get this cranky yet strangely kind beast to open up to her.

Chapters 10/19 now posted | Belle/Beast | rated M overall

Other characters: Mrs. Potts, Cogsworth, Maurice, minor original characters Key tags: Alternate Universe, Love, Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, Shame, Self-Sacrifice, Magic, see full list of tags on AO3

#rose brides fic #beauty and the beast #beauty and the beast 1991 #batb fanfic #fanfic #disney fanfiction #fairy tales #fairy tale retelling #belle x beast #belle x adam #belle #the beast #my writing #my stuff

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vaguely-concerned · 6 months

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A Stitch In Time First Read Reactions & Thoughts Monster Post Part 2

and the adventure/Garak's horrible life continues!

Part 1, Part 3

- “That’s who he is now, Tolan. He’s a man.” I heard mother’s voice as I approached the opened door to our housing unit after a training session.

“He’s hard, Mila,” Father said.

“He has to be,” she replied.

“But to the point where he’s unreachable?” Father asked. “Where nothing penetrates? How can he express even his basic needs if he’s trapped inside a shell?”

“It’s better this way, Tolan. I know what’s in store for him,” Mother interrupted. There was a momentary silence.

“More Bamarren,” Father said, almost to himself. There was another silence indicating the discussion was over. I decided to take a walk.

Tolan my man. You are planting some seeds in a garden you won’t live to see here and you are so important and valid for that. Tain does his best to crush this all out of Garak eventually and almost succeeds, but I really do think that little chime of having been genuinely, unconditionally loved by someone is part of the reason he can start growing again once Bashir shows up on the scene and brings a bit of sunlight back, as it were. One man’s love can’t save you from the totalitarian state or people like Enabran Tain, but it can leave room for the possibility for something different one day, under other circumstances

- “Let’s have some tea.” He laughed because he knew that the tea he drank, which was brewed from the roots of some shrub, had made me gag the first—and only—time I’d tried it. I had a separate container of the common choban variety. We took our containers and settled in a shady place that faced the playing children.

This is such a lovely real-feeling little detail to work in — he got to taste his dad’s coffee once and Didn’t Care For It so he has his own little box of fruit tea or whatever fdlksa.

“The first Hebitians had an advanced culture that was sophisticated on every level, Elim. Yes, it was solarbased, but they were able to support themselves, and this is what most of the planet looked like.” He waved his tea container to indicate the Grounds. The idea was almost too outlandish for me. Soft and green places are rare on Cardassia.

“It’s hard to imagine, isn’t it? We live in constant struggle with the land. We’ve become as hard and dry….” Father trailed off and sipped his tea. I thought of my favorite place at Bamarren, and almost told Father about it—but how could I describe the enclosure without speaking of her?

All those secrets already getting in the way of him sharing the things he really wants to with the people he loves…

I remembered that Calyx had called me an “air man” and wondered if I didn’t get it from Father. Mother often complained that he didn’t have a grasp of what she called our “power-driven reality,” and he would reply that his reality was driven by the same power that grew his plants and shrubs. These arguments always left the house feeling divided and cold.

“I love this place, Elim. And it means a great deal to me that we’re able to spend this time with each other working here.” Father smiled and put his hand on my shoulder. He rarely touched me, and the contact embarrassed me … and sent a warm feeling through my body. I felt like one of his plants. He kept his hand on my shoulder and stared at me with an intensity that made me afraid of what he was going to say next.

Let me indulge in a Harrow the Ninth quote: “You were so afraid anyone might touch you. You had always been afraid of anyone touching you, and had not known your longing flinch was so obvious to those who tried it.”

“Was this your … ‘power,’ which makes the plants and flowers grow?”

Father’s face broke into a beaming smile, and I thought he was going to grab me. He had never looked at me like this, and I felt somehow proud that my question had gotten such a reaction. Suddenly he looked past me, and his expression—so open and so animated with the attempt to explain what essentially was unexplainable—became as unreadable as that disembodied mask.

Mother was at the door. I don’t know how long she had been there, but she was not pleased.

“Oh, Tolan,” was all she said.

“Get cleaned up, Elim,” Father said. I was aware of a strong forcefield that I had been caught in the middle of many times before. It always made me feel helpless, and this time was no exception. I gladly complied. As I was about to leave the room, however, I saw Mother’s eyes as she looked at Father. Intimate was not a word I would ever have used to describe their relationship—efficient or collaborative, perhaps—but I had never seen how much distance actually existed between them until this very moment.

Considering the fact that they’re actually siblings… I’m only impressed they managed to leave Garak with a view of romantic relationships that isn’t even weirder than it is. The starvation diet of intimacy he grew up under tho, even with parental figures who loved him as far as they were able…

- (About Mila) She was a sturdy, compact woman with prematurely graying hair and strong features that were now leading the way. She was always very patient with me, but I was under the impression that she had something of weight and consequence on her mind that discouraged everything but essential interaction.

- LMAO oh of course he uses the holosuites basically as a sauna. An ill-advisedly horny sauna right now, even fhsajkjfsa. Dude I know you’re bored and Julian won’t speak to you as much as you want him to but this is some extra level of you shouldn't be doing this (as if that has ever stopped him)

- “You’re going to work today, son.” She remained true to her course and didn’t look at me when she spoke.

“I’ve been going to work every day,” I responded, out of a childish loyalty to Father.

“That’s not your work,” she stated. “You’re a man now, and you’re being given a great opportunity. I want you to behave like a man and submit to the path that’s opening up before you.”

“Have I ever opposed your wishes, Mother?” I probably imagined the slight crack of a smile on her face.

. . .

“Your father has ideas I don’t agree with … that are best left unexpressed. I advise you to forget them. They’ll only make your work more difficult.” She stopped and looked at me for the first time. “Understand, Elim—you are being given the opportunity to move above the service class.”

I recoiled from both the word I mistrusted and the implication that the work Mother and Father did was low and demeaning.

“I was taught that the service class was an irreplaceable piece of the Cardassian mosaic,” I replied with crude irony.

“Listen to me!” she said with a passion that startled me. “You are my son and you are a Cardassian. Not a Hebitian. Look around you!” she commanded. I did. We were in the great public area which is surrounded by the buildings that house the power of the Union. “Hebitians did not build this. Cardassians did. Your father and I serve and maintain, but we do not influence or guide the destiny of the Union. You could. That’s why you must submit right now! Do you understand me, Elim? Once we walk through that door,” she indicated the one that led to the subterranean levels of the Assembly building—to the Obsidian Order—'you must submit to your fate.”

Mother’s eyes were burning with an intensity that communicated a care and passion that was every bit the equal of Father’s. I nodded dumbly. She took a deep breath and composed herself. Unconsciously, she smoothed my hair and tugged at my tunic.

“You’re a good boy … Sleg.” This time the smile was real.

He’s SO loyal!! Just the implication that what Mila and Tolan do isn’t valuable or important and he’s ready to throw hands with someone about it fdskjdas. Also “I’ve been going to work every day,” I responded, out of a childish loyalty to Father. GUH. One of nature’s ride or die people

Before Palandine, the other person in his life he uses humor to bond and communicate with is his mother. Don’t have any conclusions to draw about this but I just think it’s neat

I don’t blame Garak for having a Pavlovian horror reaction to the word ‘opportunity’ after all this

Unconsciously, she smoothed my hair and tugged at my tunic. God. God. God.

- “But what am I here for?” I now felt bolder.

“You’re here to find out who you are. And to create your own story.”

“Story?”

“Your history. Up to this point you’ve been defined by other people’s needs. Mila’s. Tolan’s. Your docent’s.”

“Yours?” I asked. Tain laughed.

“Perhaps. But here you have the opportunity to change all that.”

Okay I’m starting to feel a little ill this is going to go so horribly oh god

“When you see your mother, she is ‘Mila’ and you are to treat her like any other service worker.” He held my look to see how I would react to the last order.

Cool cool cool he didn’t even wait five minutes to begin to strip away everything in his life that isn’t tain that’s so great and wonderful

- It was at that moment that I decided that not only was I not going to open up the basement, I was not going to rebuild the house of Enabran Tain. Instead I constructed the largest and most ambitious formation of material where the center of the house—Tain’s study—had formerly been located. This was my memorial to Mila, who remained entombed in the basement. If the people need a place to mourn their dead, to mourn a way of life that will never return, then I offer the home of Enabran Tain, the man most responsible for provoking this destruction. Parmak is right: otherwise, how can we ever move ahead?

I’m so proud of him I feel like a proud parent of this fictional gay murder man old enough to be my father

- I felt oddly disconnected, almost as if I were walking next to and observing this person, Elim Garak, who was playing out a fateline that demanded his submission, and over which he had no control.

. . .

Another basement, but much smaller than home. I wondered if I’d ever live at ground level or higher in the City. . . . When there was nothing left to do I decided to go to sleep. But I couldn’t. From upstairs there came the faint sound of someone moving about. It wasn’t Tain. But how could I be sure? He seemed to be everywhere else in my life.

What is his life but a series of shitty basements when you get right down to it

- Reading, or sewing, or moving my display clothing (optimistic about the shop someday opening again), I’d feel the walls slowly moving in.

I’m just so happy to have it confirmed he really, genuinely grows to enjoy his craft. It’s so cute and I’m so glad he’s excited about it. *doing classic code breaking spy work* UGH I could be sewing right now this sucks

- “Hallo, Garak.” He was waiting at the entrance. “I hope you don’t mind, but I had something prepared for us and thought we could take lunch in my office.”

“No—that sounds fine.” I was taken back by the suggestion, since we had never dined in his office before. I followed as he led the way to the cluttered space he usually reserved for private consultations. When I saw that the table was set for three, my system went on full alert.

“Are we expecting someone else, Doctor?” I asked.

“Well, uh, yes … or rather, Odo was going to try to make it, but he may be held up.” The doctor was almost too casual as he busied himself serving the prepared dishes. “He said we should start without him.” He uncovered my food: tojal in yamok sauce, one of my favorite Cardassian dishes. Now I was certain something was up.

“Where did you find this, Doctor?” I didn’t have the heart to tell him tojal is a breakfast dish.

a) wingman odo back in action!!! ~*mysteriously late*~, is he…. b) bashir knows what cardassian food garak likes best……….. c) this man is eating the alien equivalent of eggs and bacon for dinner b/c it’s such a sweet gesture from julian even if he got it slightly wrong… omg… d) nervous Julian… I would take a bullet for you

“Oddly enough, the chef at the Klingon restaurant fancies himself an intergalactic gourmet. However, I’m afraid the concept of chips still eludes him,” the doctor said as he held up a long, greasy strip of what he called fried potato.

“What’s the occasion, Doctor? You didn’t have to go to all this trouble. You’re a busy man.”

“I just thought it’d be pleasant if we had some privacy today,” he said, avoiding a direct look.

“Oh. For any particular reason?” I asked as I began to eat.

“Well, I… uh … actually was planning to talk about this after lunch.” I could see that the doctor was out of his element. Perhaps he was disconcerted that we had to conduct this lunch without a third party.

“Talk about what, Doctor?” I put down my utensils and gave him my full attention.

“Well, I was hoping that Odo would join us.” The Doctor looked toward the door with a look that corroborated my suspicion. He suddenly nodded.

“Yes, quite right. We should do this before; we’ll digest better.” He suddenly jumped up. “I have some rokossa juice … tea?”

“What is it?” My insistence pulled him back down.

“You know how important those codes are to us. I don’t have to tell you what that information means.”

“No one knows better than I,” I said.

“Of course not. And I respect that for whatever reason you’re … unable to continue to break them down for us.”

“Yes?” I prompted.

“You see, this is so difficult, Garak. I know what a private person you are, and how you detest people meddling in your affairs….”

“Ironic for a spy, isn’t it?”

“No, everyone has a right to their privacy, but … circumstances being what they are….”

. . .

“But you see, perhaps it’s something that I can help you address.”

“Your holosuite program. The one that allows me to visit the traumas of my childhood.”

“I hesitate to suggest this, remembering how you reacted the last time … but, yes, I feel it could make a difference,” the Doctor gamely admitted.

. . .

“And you don’t think that what’s in front of us has any connection to what’s past?” he asked.

“Of course it does, but not in the causal manner you’re suggesting. One model does not fit all, however admirable that model may be.” I smiled and gestured to the Doctor; but he wasn’t in the mood for a compliment.

You know Garak I’ll give you this you never give up and I think that’s beautiful.

“You have my word, Doctor. I will do whatever I possibly can.”

“I’ve never doubted that, Garak.”

I nodded, looking at the third setting. “Tell me, Doctor, why did you invite Odo today?”

“I thought since you were working together on this project….” His voice trailed off. We just looked at each other. “I think I was afraid to do this by myself,” he finally admitted.

“I appreciate your honesty, Doctor. Please assure the captain that I will pick up more codes from Odo today.”

“Thank you, Garak.” The doctor seemed enormously relieved. He gestured to our food. “I’m afraid it’s all gone cold. Why don’t we just go to the Replimat after all?”

“Excellent suggestion,” I eagerly agreed. (He wants to get out of there b/c the small space is making him claustrophobic)

I feel like this scene is more proof that Julian feels like he keeps messing this up. Thankfully his ‘I will help you if it’s the last thing I do’ instinct remains insuppressible lol. Look tho they’re talking properly again :) Julian admits this is hard for him too and that opens something back up a bit!

‘I’ve never doubted that, Garak’ has hit me in a certain kind of way too and idk why. Garak feels like he’s failing and Julian is so immediately reassuring that he knows he’s always doing his best.

- “Learn your stories, follow orders, and serve Cardassia.”

Yeah that’s about what it boils down to huh

- “You see, all you would have to do is prevent your opponent from putting the ball into your goal.”

“And I can’t use my hands?” I asked.

“No, the goalkeeper can use any part of his body,” Hans replied with the widest grin I have ever seen on a face. Children and their games, I thought.

Fdskhfkjsdhfkjsadfhkjdsafa fdsakljfdklas yeah that does seem very human. ‘Hey do you wanna play football with us?’ and GOALIE GARAK!!! And also young adult garak still being soooo…. Somber and serious lmao. I think some of Julian’s LARP nonsense vibes are going to be good for him long-term.

Also. maybe tennis one day. That’s basically what they do verbally anyway I think he could be brought around to see the fun in it if Julian’s on the other side of the net

PS: If Garak didn’t actually fuck Hans Jordt, he was definitely ready to do so. For Cardassia, you understand.

They exhibited such a childlike joy and enthusiasm as they played that I came to understand another meaning of the word “game.” What was more puzzling, however, was watching those people who played the game for no other reason than to … just play. If they or one of their teammates made a mistake, if the opposition scored … they didn’t seem to mind. Some even laughed it off. And at the end, every one actually shook hands and congratulated each other.

They’re not stupid—Maladek has dangerously underestimated them. But there’s something we don’t understand about these humans that limits our effectiveness in dealing with them.

*Attenborough Voice* and here we see the Humans, running around kicking a ball around for, they report, ‘sheer shits and giggles’. They proclaim the whole exercise ‘fun’, even when it results in no clear practical gain either in social standing or training.

- I could only make out the occasional word, and only then if it was repeated, like “yadik,” which is what a young child calls his or her father.

Cardassian term for ‘daddy’ found! Be sure to only use this information responsibly

- Hans continued to smile, and I wondered if he really believed these sentiments—or was this another example of Federation hypocrisy? These people reduced all political complexity to pious platitudes, while they constructed the greatest empire in the history of the Alpha Quadrant.

I really like Garak’s consistently suspicious approach to the Federation philosophically and in action — it’s not that he’s necessarily right about it (tho I think he occasionally has one or two points between all the paranoia), but it is what a clever cautious person on the other side of the divide would think.

“He’s not a traitor. But he needs help. I told him not to go to you, that we’d find a way….” I trailed off, translating my ignorant isolation into that of someone caught between two powerful forces. Tears came to my eyes, and I marveled that I had absolutely no emotional attachment to them.

Yeah I’m sure you have no circumstances in your life to draw from to make this convincing

But it was too late to back down; I had to rely on human prejudice.

“Cowardice and madness are unforgivable,” I went on. “They reflect flaws in the Cardassian character that can never be redeemed.” This was to a certain extent indeed true of cowardice; madness, however, was looked upon as a mysterious disease, and those who suffered were isolated and treated well. In any event, no one was killed unless the cowardice occurred in battle.

“My God,” Hans breathed, confirming, I’m sure, his belief that we were capable of any kind of atrocity. I hated his self-righteous superiority, and calculated the several moves that would send him flying into the abyss.

This thing Garak does where he tests people in ways he has deliberately set them up to fail — and then has a really disdainful hostile reaction when they do fail. Is a pattern, I feel. He does this interpersonally a lot of the time too. I guess it’s the ‘it’s illegal to say what you’re really thinking and feeling and what you need’ disease Cardassia instills in its children lmao. That and the constant lying are tools he can use to control the levels of emotional intimacy in a relation because he’s never been allowed to set actual healthy boundaries in a relationship (submit and subsume) and a person has to salvage some psychological integrity in whatever way they can, even when it can be kind of unpleasant in action.

In the same way that Julian shares the more problematic parts of his ‘I can fix them’ side with his father, this is also a trait Garak shares with Tain, but Tain does it more deliberately and less reflexively — for Garak I think it’s partially a compartmentalization/self-justification mechanism. He engineers to find a way in which a person is shitty so he gets to write them off in his head and then they can’t hurt him and hurting them can’t hurt him. (For the Dragon Age heads out there: very much the same pattern as we see Cole narrate that Iron Bull has to do to keep functioning. The Bull/Garak parallels are frightening to behold in some ways haha ‘it’s the same picture’. Traumatized pansexual old spies in exile support club) I’m not sure Tain has the emotional capacity for true attachment in the first place to need that most of the time — the only place it really seems to pop up is ironically in his relationship to Garak, which is also partially a narcissistic impulse b/c of the ‘flesh of my flesh/reflection of myself’ element of it.

- “I may put you on the enhancer.”

I said nothing. It was enough of a challenge just to return his look.

“How would you feel about that?” he asked.

“I would … submit, of course.”

Fucking horror show culture! :)

“You did well,” he said in the same flat tone. It was amazing how quickly and completely my spirits changed.

…praise kink headcanons in further development pls stand by

- “I told them that you were in over your head and that it was because you were trying to prove something to your father.” His eyes were suddenly furious, and he grabbed my neck with his free hand and held the phaser up to my head.

“What do you know? What do you know about anything?” he screamed in my face.

Ah. The dramatic irony. It burns me and my heart to a cinder. Maladek has a surprising impact considering how briefly he’s here

“Just tell him … you did the best you could.”

This is while Garak’s mental framework of fatherhood still works along Tolan rules. And it’s SO SAD b/c oh boy that ain’t gonna last long

“Come in, Elim.” Tain had his uncle smile working today.

I hate him I hate him I hate him I HATE HIM!!!

This was my first experience with Tain’s working methods. For him it was all a puzzle, and we were the separate pieces he put together at his pleasure. I had to accept that the final result—destroying the talks—was the one he wanted. But there was one question I needed to ask. Maladek’s final look haunted me still.

“What is it, Elim?” Tain asked.

“What happened to Maladek?”

“You didn’t hear?” He seemed surprised. “A terrible thing really. He killed himself.”

I didn’t move a muscle. I felt my throat begin to constrict. Tain watched me.

. . .

At least Maladek didn’t have to worry about what he would say to his father now.

OOFIE DOOFIE! ‘Better dead than a disappointment to your father’

- The previous leadership structure has been discredited; people are aware that the military was the most influential group, and their agenda was to keep the mechanism for conquest and expansion well oiled. As long as they brought back the spoils of this policy, they were able to hold on to their power. And while I think most people now understand that direct responsibility for our current circumstances has to be placed at the door of the military, there are still many who believe otherwise.

. . .

Another man from our sector, Alon Ghemor, the nephew of Tekeny Ghemor, the legate who believed that Colonel Kira was his daughter, is organizing based on the political belief that we have to rebuild a new society administered by civilian leadership, one that lives in what he calls “creative harmony” with the rest of the Quadrant. What’s interesting is that I went to school with Ghemor. I saw him at a rally that was held here (yes, my little Tarlak has become a focal point for the sector). When he appeared I yelled, “Five Lubak!” He didn’t recognize me at first, but then his eyes widened, and he answered, “Ten!” He seemed genuinely pleased to see me. Dr. Parmak, who’s an ardent supporter of Ghemor and organized the rally, was quite impressed. It’s encouraging to see that my old schoolmate has remained a decent man.

FIVE LUBAK WAS A GHEMOR AND HE’S FINE THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! :D this made me unreasonably happy haha. Fellow MLM Pythas enjoyer made it safely to adulthood

I’m not smart or well-read enough on the subject to really speak on this in a meaningful way, but I do recognize enough to be really intrigued by all the elements and tropes of British culture and literature Robinson employs in this book. From the particular boarding school from hell flavour to everyone in high positions he runs into being old school mates and a lot of the social mores and dynamics going on in the background (right down to the specific brand of emotional repression required by the culture, for all I make jokes about Julian’s stiff upper lip direct callout haha). It’s the horrible strictly class-segregated colonialist & expansionist evil empire of it all, I suppose. I feel like the Cardassians aren’t quite this Brit-coded in the show itself (though of course the horrors of fascism and imperialism resonate across many different cultures in Earth history, that isn’t all of what’s going on here), where it’s more of a ‘little bit of this, little bit of that, add some grey face paint and gul dukat’s giraffe-length neck and hey presto you’ve got some real problematic alligators on your hands’, but it does kind of work. It’s an intertextuality that is more readily available for a novel rather than a TV-show too — the way the form of the narrative creates the parallels as well as the contents within it.

But this is our problem now (and I can see you ready to pounce, Doctor): What is our new mechanism of choice? A small group of Mondrig’s supporters are attempting to intimidate people, but to engage them with organized opposition would be dangerous.

. . .

Dr. Parmak, however, is a believer in the democratic principles you and I have spent many hours arguing over (what is it about you doctors?). He and Ghemor want the people of the sector to be able to vote. It’s a new concept for us, but everyone is so weary from the war and its devastation that it’s a serious possibility. Yes, I can picture you sitting with your feet up, gloating with that self-satisfied smile of Federation enlightenment. And perhaps you’re right.

The tiny little Julian that lives in Garak’s brain is smiling brilliantly but SO smugly and Garak is just fondly like ‘yeah yeah babe fine you win this one’ about it fjsdkfhajkhkdsjahfjksa this is. Unspeakably sweet to me. Just the depth of how much Garak clearly wants Julian to be there with him (which is deliciously ironic given my reading that Julian has been getting the complete opposite read on him. augh)

- Indeed, judging from the way I was treated, I was regarded as one of Tain’s protégés (the “sons of Tain” they called us), and held to a rigorous standard. I was envied and feared, but returning to this house had revealed the true depths of my loneliness.

:’’’’’’’’’’(

- “Look … Mila. He’s a man,” he said with wonder, as if the intervening years had been mere days.

“Well, isn’t that what I’m supposed to be?” I tried to joke.

I feel like I’m on fire. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be…

“You have nothing to apologize for, Elim. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Ah yes. The fundamental Tolan/Tain divide. Tain would make Garak apologize for being born in a way so annoying to him personally and then not forgive him when he does. I think Tolan and Palandine are the only people who ever express to Garak they’re sorry for hurting him in this era

“Please, Father….”

“I’m not your father.”

I studied his face to make sure that he wasn’t drifting away. His eyes were clear and present; if anything, the glitter had intensified.

“Of course you are.” I spoke to him as if he were a child or a simpleton.

“Elim, there’s no time to waste. I have always loved you like a son. I wished with all my heart that you were my son. But you’re not.”

Now I felt like the child. “Then … I don’t understand. Who is?”

Tolan sighed. “Your mother is the one to tell you. I made a promise….” and his voice trailed off.

“I don’t understand,” I repeated. “Why?”

If I had a nickel for every time Garak had to beg his father to be allowed to even call him his father on his deathbed, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it says some real weird things about Garak’s life that it happened twice

“I don’t understand,” I repeated. “Why?”

“Oh, my dear Elim. The soul of a poet, and look at you … your closed face … all those secrets….” A spasm rippled through him like a sudden wind over still water. “Too many secrets … it’s like poison.” He brought his trembling, clawlike hand up to my face. “Too many secrets poison the soul.”

What a fucking microcosm of his whole life lmao. Just. Existentially confused at all times

“Now take them and go.” He closed his eyes and went completely still. I stood there a long time. Thoughts, images, feelings swirled through me, collided, lingered, dissipated—and I did nothing but observe them. I had no choice. To identify with any one of them meant certain chaos. I maintained my detachment as I repacked the red box. A part of me stood off to the side and watched the rest of me pick up the box, go over to Tolan, and press my open palm against his cold, dry forehead.

“Good-bye, Father.”

At all times Garak is sitting in the middle of his own on-fire mind like the ‘This Is Fine’ dog and that’s so relatable of him honestly

He calls Tolan ‘Father’ right up until the end of Tolan’s life. What the hell. What the hell.

- Mila seeing the red box and just like. Sighing fhskda

- “And I have a right….” She cut herself off and made a wide gesture with her arms that seemed to include everything around her. And then it hit me … and simultaneously we both heard his footsteps upstairs. A chill went through me. Of course. I went to the stairs and looked at Mother. Her face was softer, younger. For this one moment the distance between us had dissolved. The footsteps were now directly above us. My entire life had been dominated by his presence. So had Mother’s … and Tolan’s. I nodded and started up the stairs.

“Elim….” I stopped and looked back down at her. I could see how handsome and strong her face must have been when she was young.

“What, Mother?”

“Be careful,” she finally warned.

Fucked up by just how quickly he starts to understand and sympathize with her. He lashes out at her for ten seconds and then puts the pieces together and then seems to like. Start to understand. To forgive her, even. Interpersonally he is so generous with his own forgiveness even while being starved of ever getting it in return for the longest time.

This must also be one of the last times (if not THE last time) he calls her ‘Mother’ (he also calls her that when speaking to Tain right after, and Tain doesn’t mention it but surely notices, just as he notices him calling Tolan by his first name for the first time).

‘Closing the distance’ as one of the things Garak struggles most with in personal relationships and how it only ever happens for him in short glimpses…

- “I’m glad you’ve come to me here. We can … express ourselves in a way that’s not possible elsewhere.”

Indeed, the dark room with the piled scrolls and their musky smell, the artifacts and ancient wall hangings with their glyphs and symbols—was any of it Hebitian, I wondered?—was a world far removed from the cold efficiency of the Order. We were sealed away in an ageless cavern.

“Tolan and I shared a love of classic beauty, the old aesthetics that guided and revealed. He was a visionary, Elim. All those designs at Tarlak, the way the greenswards and plantings contained the monuments, never allowing them to brutalize us with death. Mothers and children are as welcome there as the guls and legates. All were based on classical designs. Oh, yes, he was a dedicated man. You were fortunate to be able to work with him.”

‘Never allowing them to brutalize us with death’ is SUCH a phrasing. What is Tolan’s complicity in dressing up the horrors of the military state to be serene and beautiful so you don’t have to think about the sources of atrocities that lie cradled beneath the tidy well-maintained graves. What’s the responsibility of beauty, if any, other than to itself. Thinking about Garak rebuilding a different kind of Tarlak from the rubble in the ‘now’ timeline. Wild shit. More his father’s son than you’ll ever understand Tain (this is a Tolan support blog ultimately he did what he could)

Also makes me desperately curious about what the fuck went down before Garak was born. Did Tain know Tolan through Mila or vice versa? How were circumstances such that Mila and Tolan were not publicly known to be siblings, presumably? Cardassians have robust public records about that sort of thing, after all, that’s what Garak’s Obsidian Order cover story boils down to lol. Full siblings but from somewhere far enough away that no one knew them in this city, half-siblings or raised apart, not actual biological siblings but grew up together, what is the thing here? Born out of wedlock and so fallen conveniently between the administrative cracks somewhere? They’re clearly not actually living together as man and wife (thank god), but I assume they were married on paper because I doubt Tain would let there be any way to suss out the truth of the situation and leave someone to guess at his own involvement. But then Tain has friends in high places and no scruples slash soul, he could probably get something suitably convincing arranged. Also such a perfect illustration of uh everything going on here that they had to risk the chance of one day being exposed for apparent incest rather than being exposed for premarital sex right now lmao. God forbid anything break with the wholesome system of traditional Cardassian family values.

This indicates Tain knows about Tolan’s Oralian way sympathies (and presumably pretended he shared them on some deeper level than as a useful tool when they were younger), even as he’ll hold it like a Damocles sword over his head the same way he does the existence of Mila the regnar and Palandine with Garak.

Also, again: the fact that Garak doesn’t have even weirder conceptions of romantic relationships is frankly a miracle good job Tolan and Mila for not fucking him up worse

I remembered one of the few times Tain had taken me outside the city, when he’d put me on a Cardassian riding hound. He’d held the bridle and walked me around the course. Then he’d given me the bridle and had walked next to me as the hound panted and slobbered. Then he’d said, “It’s time.” He’d slapped the hound hard, and it had taken off at full speed. But I’d hung on, though frightened by the sudden speed and surging power beneath me. Gradually I’d begun to adjust and learn to roll with the hound’s concussive undulations.

“I was never happier in my life,” I said out loud. “I turned around to wave to you, and I fell.”

Tain studied me for a long moment and nodded. “And you pulled yourself up and continued to ride. I remember.”

Im haunted. Happiest day of his life and he was five years old and his father gave him — the faintest little gesture of affection and pride and that got him for life. And actually I think this is the one time/the one relationship where Tain does the thing Garak does where he makes something that moves him an enemy in his head. So few things really move Tain emotionally that I don’t think he has to resort to that in such a savagely reactive way as Garak does most of the time, but I think that day with his son might have. And that’s what he’s never going to forgive him for.

ALSO how insidious is it that the one thing Tain is truly proud of Garak for — getting up every time he falls down and trying again, even when it hurts him and he should stop, because he knows Tain is watching him — is what allows him to keep Garak hooked all those years. It’s so messed up.

- Tain remained in his chair as I walked out of the room. I walked out into the night with my red box and all the way to the Tarlak Sector. I went to the children’s area and sat across from where Tolan and I had planted the Edosian orchids. At some point I opened the box and took out the mask. I studied the eyeless face and half expected it to talk to me, to explain why my life had become so complicated, so beyond my control. But it was obviously another “night person,” guarding its secrets. There were hooks that went over the ears, and I attached the mask to my face. I sat there and waited … but nothing was revealed. Finally the tears came.

I did warn you that this was going to recur and that it would break your heart. I warned you.

- contemplating the cursed line of thought that the mila/tain/tolan thing is a mirror of one way the palandine/barkan/garak inadvisable sandwich could have gone, if barkan were smarter and capable of less brute force methods long term ala tain. You think Garak could have ever broken away again if you handed him a kid and arranged it so that their future and happiness depended on his compliance and submission no matter what you ask of him, any more than Tolan could? Thank god Barkan is an idiot basically because being trapped between Tain and this theoretical clever Barkan’s setup would probably be even more fucking ruinous to Garak’s psyche than what’s already going on here haha

- I had done what Tain asked, and in the following years no one was as dedicated a night person as I was. I went everywhere they asked me to go and stayed as long as it took to complete the mission, but Tain never said a word that would indicate whether he was pleased or displeased. In fact, I saw very little of him, and even less of Mila. This distance from them, and the fact that I was rarely home, actually made my work easier. My primary contact at the Order was Limor Prang, who became even less expressive, if that were possible, as he grew older. I knew, however, that my dedication, and the absence of any kind of life outside of the Order, concerned him. On those occasions he’d tersely suggest that I visit Morfan Province or some such popular vacation area. I’d tell him I’d consider it, and accept another assignment… or tend to my orchids… or walk.

Why is this so funny. Limor Prang being like ‘dude tain idk about this kid he does his job real well but he literally has no hobbies but murder and gardening I think there might be something fundamentally wrong with him’ (*Tain voice* yeah I know and it took a lot of effort to fuck him up this badly don’t undo all my hard work please)

- The magic of these flowers has fascinated me from the moment I first saw them. The mysterious way they reveal themselves, layer by layer…. Just when you think they can’t get any more beautiful, that you can’t learn anything more, another layer of bloom surpasses the previous one and the orchid changes personality. Recently I have developed a new indulgence—clothing—and I know it’s because of the influence of the Edosian orchid. Each time I put on another well-designed and well-tailored suit in a fabric with depth and an aesthetic pattern, I feel like another person. One of my favorite duties is to choose what I will wear for each assignment.

AUGH I am just so FOND of him!!! One of his favorite parts of his murder job is picking out what outfits he’s going to wear!!!!! His queer little flower-loving weirdo clinical murder swag is unmatched

- I looked across the greensward, and there she was, the blue-black hair and the long, dark gray skirt flowing behind her as she chased a little girl who was giggling, trying to escape from her mother but knowing that the beauty of the game was that she wouldn’t. Half of me wanted to run after them, the other half wanted to be buried deep in the ground. Why her? Why now? With sudden clarity I saw my entire life as a defense against this very moment. I didn’t want to feel what I was feeling; I didn’t want this immense burden of desire. I had learned to be satisfied with the occasional brusque sexual contact that quenched desire the way food or water did, and to live without any expectation of that touch that transforms routine into adventure. Watching Palandine and her daughter defy gravity with their dance of love destroyed all my definitions, and my carefully maintained boundaries began to give way, for the first time since Bamarren, to the magic of limitless possibility. I knew at that moment that I’d never be satisfied again. Even my beloved orchids looked like weeds.

I watched like someone unable to avert his eyes from impending horror, as the mother ran down the daughter and gathered her up in her strong arms. They were both giggling, absolutely fulfilled in each other’s company, lighting up the grounds with their radiance.

This idea of love and intimacy being likened to wanting to be able to run, in the knowledge you’ll be safely caught and held in the end, in laughter and closeness… Come find me hiding in the place I know you’ll look first, huh. (also makes his dismissal of the act of play earlier take on some new implications haha)

- Lokar was the favorite of such powerful Cardassians as his father, Draban Lokar, and Procal Dukat, key members of the Civilian Assembly and Central Command respectively. In fact, his prefect on Terok Nor, the ore processing station, was Procal’s son, Skrain Dukat. Lokar’s ambition and his prospects had no limit. Nor, it seems, did his appetite for using and disposing of people… especially women. His tyrannical excesses, visited upon friend and foe alike, were well documented; but as long as his stewardship produced such successful results no one cared. Lokar has quickly become an integral part of the easy corruption I see and smell more and more at the highest levels of our system, and which gives the lie to our stern and moralistic facade. Perhaps, I thought, when I leave for Tzenketh tomorrow, I’ll erase all memory of the way back.

. . .

There were few pedestrians, since this was the time of the evening when families gathered after a long day of work and school: The good Cardassians. The sector reeked of rectitude and self-importance.

His growing disillusionment with all of this going on in the background. (I think he backslides massively on most of that once he’s in exile b/c like. Even when home sucks it’s still home and he’s not allowed there anymore. But in his second story in The Wire he says something like ‘the whole exercise suddenly seemed utterly meaningless’, and I think it’s that dawning ennui that’s peeking through here.)

- But the jostling and the noise only made me more aware of the loathsome self-pity I was feeling. I wanted my life to be arranged without need, to be totally self-sufficient, able to do my work for the Order and find fulfillment wherever I could—to accept my life as enough. But how could I, when my deepest involvement was with orchids?

That’s the thing the wire does that is most insidious and specifically most apt to trap him, I think — it allowed at least the illusion of total emotional self-sufficiency, divorcing all the happy brain chemicals from the vulnerability of needing someone or something else. (I mean it didn’t work, he was clearly incredibly miserable anyway, but that’s the underlying seductive logic of addiction for you)

The way he thinks of this as weakness, like it’s an underlying strain of embarrassing, undisciplined self-indulgence that runs through him, when really when you look at it closely it’s his soul fighting tooth and nail to continue to exist, even on scraps, even when it’s inconvenient to the people who would rather he strangle that thing in its cradle and submit himself fully. In The Wire this is what he seems to loathe about himself most of all. It feels so… furtive and shameful, like he keeps getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar for crumbs even as he’s starving, but like yeah thank god he managed to survive it on those crumbs, right. Me @ me through Garak: Hey maybe having any kind of emotional need is not in fact a mortal sin but maybe a sign that something within you is still alive and needs a gardener’s gentle hands to grow had you even considered that

- “It takes courage to come here, to look at things the way they once were. And while they can never be that way again, we can extract an essence that will nurture and amplify our own lives. We can strive to be better friends and live with ourselves and others with respect and the recognition that each soul desires to be reconnected with the source. To enslave or prey upon each other is not how we began. We were connected to each other. We did not experience hunger, deprivation, or loneliness. We were connected, and we cared and nurtured and loved. No, friends, it’s not how we began. But if we end in isolation and hate, not even a monument in Tarlak will ease the agony of our lost soul.”

. . .

By the time I reached the door I decided that it was all sentimental nonsense. Cardassia suffered a great climatic catastrophe—and if we hadn’t been strong and determined to adapt, we would have perished with the weak. And the weak must perish; otherwise the integrity of the race is compromised and we become the preyed-upon. Poor misguided Tolan. He was a good man but he was a gardener, and the worst thing he had ever had to do was kill weeds.

The patented Garak move of ‘oh this thing genuinely moved me? No it didn’t. And also I hate it’. (“I hate this place and I hate you”)

- “Your necropolis has become the subject of much conversation throughout the sector,” he replied. “Or is it a memorial to your former mentor?”

“It’s whatever people want it to be. It seems to give comfort to some. For me it meant bringing some order out of this chaos.”

In his deepest heart he remains the cemetery keeper’s son and I for one think that’s beautiful. Fic idea: what about necromancer garak au I think that could be fun

“You’ve heard of the movement afoot to bring in Federation methods for determining our new leadership structure?”

“No, I haven’t,” I replied without hesitating. I prayed that Parmak wouldn’t make one of his unannounced nocturnal visits.

*Gentle cackle* cue Parmak in his underwear trying desperately to be quiet as he climbs out the window in the background

I understand you’re working with a Dr. Parmak who’s very much involved with Ghemor.”

“I was assigned to his med unit. The situation makes for strange bedfellows,” I added.

“Of course.” I found it interesting, Doctor, that for some reason it would never occur to Madred that I would actually enjoy my relationship with Parmak. I had the feeling that he was making an assumption about me that was perhaps reinforced by my involvement with the Order and Tain.

Well well 👀👀👀(also ‘strange bedfellows’. Yeah we get it garak you’re hilarious fhdska)

It takes a man of incredible equanimity, emotional security and generosity of spirit to get it on with a guy who’s currently writing a 200+ page soul-baring letter to another man like it’s the one hope he sees among the ruins of your homeworld, but you know I think Parmak has what it takes and good for him honestly

Madras seemingly completely forgetting or completely dismissing that Garak is originally from the service class lol yes very well observed. Would not even occur to him to think that anyone not of his class and standing is a real person with agency and intelligence.

- One of my genuine pleasures was to pick someone in the street to follow. Part of it was to satisfy a desire I’ve had since Bamarren to move through places and among people undetected, a desire that increased significantly after seeing Palandine and her daughter. In the intervening years, I’d pick someone who looked like a walker and follow him or her as long as they walked. I’d make sure my presence was minimized and I’d take on the person’s physical carriage and behavior. After a while, once the physical mimicry felt complete, I’d also take on the thoughts and feelings of that person. In this way I not only felt connected to another, but I was divested of my own thoughts and emotions—especially the painful ones.

Y’know I would make fond fun of him for just how sad that is if I thought I had a fucking leg to stand on. As it is, though. I mean. Haven’t we all been there. Please tell me we’ve all been there. It would make me feel better if we’ve all been here. (Interesting furthering and explicit calling out of the Odo parallel too — taking on someone’s shape to try to understand and feel closer to them without it necessarily fulfilling the longing that prompted it)

- Of course, she had spotted me. It was almost as if I had begged her to.

“Elim!” Her voice was winded, exasperated, and amused. She was a magnificent athlete, and her long legs had very quickly caught up with me. I turned.

. . .

“But I suppose the fact that you were also at the Grounds and the Assembly building could be an extraordinary coincidence,” she said with a look that challenged me to come up with an answer. I couldn’t. I felt exposed and ashamed.

“I’m … sorry. I tried to be discreet.” There was no point in pursuing the deception.

“Elim, you forget—I studied with the same teachers. Old habits die hard,” she added with a self-deprecating laugh.

“I was not going to do it again,” I assured her.

“Let’s walk,” she suggested, noticing a couple coming out of a building.

. . .

“It reminds me of the enclosure at Bamarren,” I said. She laughed, and the old delight momentarily flashed.

“Yes! That’s why I love it here.” But her expression changed and she gave me a look that creased the lines in her face. “We treated you so terribly.”

“Please….” I started to say.

“We did, Elim. You know that. We believed… or at least I believed….” she stopped herself with a bitter laugh. I didn’t ask her what it was she had believed.

“That’s finished now,” I said.

“Is it?” she asked with a wry smile. “Well, that’s good news.”

“We were children, Palandine.”

“Yes, we were. Aspiring to be grownups.” She gave me that creased look again. “You were the grownup, Elim. We were only pretending.”

“Please…” I tried to stop her again.

“No! I lost you as a friend. I think you understand this … unless I’m very much mistaken.”

In acknowledging she did something awful to him and that she regrets hurting him for what turned out to be not even very good reasons, she has shown more care for him than basically every other person in his life but Tolan up until this point. The bar here is so low but at least she stepped over it when everyone else got busy trying to limbo dance that shit, it’s y’know something

“At first I didn’t know what to do. There you were, sitting like your regnar among those magnificent orchids. It unnerved me at the beginning, but after a while I looked forward to your being there … watching us.” As we held each other’s look I didn’t try to hide my conflicted feelings.

“Why did you decide to follow me today?” she asked. I struggled to find an answer. She nodded as if confirming something to herself. “Tell me, would you have ever… declared yourself to me if I hadn’t?”

“No,” I replied. She nodded again, this time with a sad acceptance. “You keep your own counsel now, don’t you? This must be very dangerous for you.”

“For us both. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you,” I added.

“No,” she smiled.

What a fucking… shoujo-ass bullshit thing to happen fhkdshfsa palandine looking at him sitting there among the orchids in his fancy lil clothes with his sad boy lil face and the wind was probably gently caressing his hair too. Of course he was irresistible to her at this point he’s basically a teenage girl’s secret heart’s perfect fantasy for a woman who’s been forced to grow calloused and resigned to the actual nightmare married life she is living

“Where do you work?”

“At the Hall of Records.”

“Doing what?” she asked.

“I’m a research analyst,” I answered.

“What kind of research do you analyze?” She was not going to be put off with vague answers.

“I’m a bureaucrat, Palandine. I no longer try to make my work sound interesting. The best part is that I travel a great deal to gather data on population shifts—births, deaths. Most of my work is statistical analysis—making sure the facts match the reports we receive.” I delivered this with appropriate flatness.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“I like the travel,” I answered. Her face was now a grimace.

I’m just a little research analyst/tailor/gardener ma’am…

I could see that she was upset by what she perceived as my fall from grace. Promising young man forced by circumstances to live the life of a lonely functionary.

R U sure that’s what she’s thinking Garak. R U really underestimating her again so soon. Also she’s trying so hard to flirt with you, Julian’s obliviousness is revenge for this

“Do you still hate him?” she asked.

“Hate’s a strong word.”

“But we’re all capable of feeling it, Elim. How do you feel about me?” she asked with a direct simplicity that went through my body like electric shock. The churning I experienced earlier at the Tarlak Grounds returned. I was afraid to answer. She nodded again with resignation. This time she had completely misread my thoughts. I realized that she not only expected my hate, but accepted it. She stood up and seemed smaller.

“This wasn’t such a good idea after all, was it?” And when had she ended so many of her sentences with a question?

“What happened to you?” I asked sincerely. “You were the most confident person I’d ever known. Even when you made the decision at Bamarren there was no doubt—no apology.” Her eyes suddenly fractured and tears filled the cracks. “Do you think I followed you because I hate you?”

She couldn’t answer. She just stood there shivering. I moved to her to hold her, and she didn’t resist. She didn’t move. She let me put my arms around her and draw her vibrating body to mine. The touch, the feel of her against my body was something I had never expected to experience outside my imagination. For the first time since Bamarren, I wanted to expand my presence, to feel everything that was coming through this moment and joining us. Inexplicably, I had a sudden vision of the Guide, the woman from the meeting.

“This is our secret, Elim,” Palandine whispered.

“Yes,” I answered. “Our secret.” Another one. But it didn’t feel like it would poison me.

‘And when had she ended so many of her sentences with a question’. Oh Palandine :’(

The fact that he can try to deny his own needs for decades and then break completely the moment someone he loves needs something from him. Yeah that’s probably the big weak spot for him huh. I guess Tain was mostly gambling that his needs would always get first priority in the end

Also: Palandine saying everyone is capable of hate, and Tain claiming later on that he doesn’t hate anyone even as he’s throwing a party that Merrok is dead. Very Interesting.

Garak apparently writes poetry about Palandine during this time, btw. *through tears* he’s such a SAP.

This pattern he has of interpersonally of a sort of… hide and seek, ‘Please come find me, please track me down, I’m leaving you a trail of breadcrumbs and truth-telling lies and hope and I’ll make it so easy for you to connect the dots it’s kind of pathetic on my part but who needs dignity anyway’… it’s so clumsy and child-like and full of both longing and fear. He’s TRYING but he doesn’t know any better way to do it yet. And especially with Julian, that’s where part of the misunderstanding/misalignment between them comes in, I feel, when the uh ‘signals to play’ as it were start to get muddled. ‘He doesn’t really tell me what he’s thinking’. And then he goes and writes a whole book to Julian to let him in on exactly what he’s thinking fjdsjfak truly, a man who does not do anything by halves

Somehow it also seems kind of healing that the potential for being found without anything having to be kept secret is finally, finally on the table, if (when, I know this in my heart literally what does canon even know if it disagrees it is quite simply wrong) Julian takes him up on the invitation.

#a stitch in time #asit #elim garak #star trek #star trek ds9 #ds9 #The great ASIT first read adventure #ds9 meta #garashir #julian bashir

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