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dreaming-of-mossballs · 7 months ago

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First Date..? - (Gepard x florist!reader)

Summary: Gepard, after becoming ill to the point of passing out, asked you to go on a tour of the Belobog History and Culture Museum with him. Today is that day!

▸ Genre(s): fluff, a sprinkling of angst

▸ Word Count: 5.5k

▸ Tags: Gepard x reader

▸ Warnings: food mentions, mentions of domestic abuse

A/N: MY LAST POST SHOWED IN THE TAGS!!!! It brought a ton of new people in <3 hello gepard fans, this is a part of my series! You can find more in the masterlist. (Or don’t. I try to make it so you can start wherever.)

the dividers are being stupid but i decided to keep them

MASTERLIST

Gepard, the heir to the Landau name and a sworn Silvermane Guard, wasn’t sure if he had ever felt this nervous in his life.

From his first interview as a cadet to the ceremony promoting him to the position of “Captain,” his heart had never beat as loudly as it did that day. It sent tremors through his chest that traveled all the way to his throat.

He stood resting an arm on the counter of the Neverwinter Workshop reception desk, paying no mind to his sister as she milled about, rummaging through drawers of tools and combing through filing cabinets.

A heavy sigh escaped the captain’s lips as he tapped his fingers apprehensively. All he could focus on was the antique clock on the wall taunting him as it tick, tick, ticked away. Closer and closer to the time he’d be meeting you.

Serval’s voice drew him out of the thoughts weighing his mind down.

“Earthwork should be good to go,” she said, hoisting the shield device slash guitar case onto the counter with a thump.

The bronze safety goggles resting precariously on the top of her head tumbled to the floor. Those would definitely cost a pretty penny.

“Let me know if the shield deployment acts up again, alright?”

Gepard took the procedural report from her and nodded. “You have my gratitude once again, sister. The guards should send you an invoice soon,”

Suddenly, the bell in the central plaza rang. Its sound sent shivers down his spine, which he tried to shake off by glancing absentmindedly out the window. This did not go unnoticed by his sister.

“You seem a little antsy today, Geppie. What’s messing with your rhythm?”

“Ah?” Gepard responded while tucking the yellow slip of paper into his pocket. “I merely have a few affairs that need attending to. The concern is appreciated, though,”

He straightened his collar, averting his eyes. She stared at him incredulously at this pathetically conspicuous act.

“You know?” she snorted. “You are possibly one of the worst liars on Jarilo-VI,”

She dropped her wrench on the desk carelessly, and he stiffened immediately.

“You never act this distant when it comes to affairs. In fact, most of the time you’re pretty quick to pass them off to me!” Serval shook a finger at him. “I’ve had my fair share of headaches, so you better fess up right now, little brother,” she hissed.

She stomped around the counter over the unfortunate pair of goggles and leaned in a good five or so inches away from his face. Gepard mustered all the will in his body to keep his lips straight and his facade up. “Ah— um,”

“Does this, in any way, shape or form, have to do with (Y/N)?” she barked.

“N-no, I…” His eyes flickered for a second at a pot of indigo flowers behind her. Serval, like her namesake, used this as an excuse to pounce.

“It does, doesn’t it? You broke eye contact!” She accused.

“Anyone would, in that situation!” He defended himself, clenching his jaw tightly. “You need to find better methods of interrogating people than that, sister,”

“Excuse you,” Serval snapped. “I’m just curious! We DO share a lot of friends, but (Y/N) is the only one I don’t work with.” She folded her arms.

Gepard ran a hand from his chin all the way to his hair with a groan. The last time they had squabbled like this, he hadn’t yet graduated from cadet school.

He cleared his throat. “That wasn’t what I was thinking about. As for (Y/N), I happen to be seeing them at the museum today. Are you satisfied with this information?”

His sister rolled her eyes at the biting remark and wiped a hand across her brow, smearing motor oil on her forehead. “Yeah. Fine. Don’t bother telling all the juicy details of how that came to be. They’d just be wasted on me!”

Gepard’s shoulders dropped in exasperation as he stared at her. “Why are you so invested in this, sister? You hardly give a single snowflake about my personal life. What changed?”

If looks could kill, Gepard would be six feet under.

“Hey. I’m trying to help you and your hopeless love life!” His sister nearly exploded with frustration. He quickly took a step back.

“Every time you two are in the same room, your face goes pink and you’re completely paralyzed,” she said, exasperated. “At this rate, you’ll grow old before your feelings reach them!”

She stuck a finger in her mouth with a gagging noise. Gepard blushed even harder.

“My feelings have nothing to do with you, sister,” he sputtered while simultaneously going over every single time you’ve happened to be in a room together in his head.

Serval stopped for a moment, her hackles seeming to fall. Her voice dropped an octave. “They do, actually,”

Serval sucked in a breath through her teeth.

“Y’know, Gepard… I’ve seen you go your entire life laying down everything you’ve ever had for Belobog. Isn’t it about time you pursue something— someone, that makes you happy?”

She paused, letting the words linger in his mind. Then she spoke again.

“Y’know, that you love,”

The air between them became thick with silence.

Serval sighed, leaning her back against the counter. Her little brother seemed to lack the words to respond.

“I’ve seen how you light up when you see them. And it hurts me seeing you stamp your feelings down each and every time,”

She searched in his eyes for any sign that her message was reaching him. But she did not find one.

“I’ve told you this before. Love isn’t something you can half-ass. You have to put your all into it—,” she twirled a pen around in her hand to blow off some steam. “—I don’t even care if you don’t want my help. I just want you to feel like you can confide in me, okay?”

She looked back at her brother, who was now staring at the floor, and smiled wistfully.

Well, Belobog wasn’t built in a day, after all.

Serval shrugged. “Anyways. You don’t have to listen to your big sis. I just think you should spend as much time with them before you’re sent away on another campaign.” Her tone became humorous. “Make sure you’re aaa-ll they think about when you’re gone,”

Gepard’s head shot up, his mouth going agape, and he quickly shut it.

“Why would I want to do that??”

“So you two can send each other looong letters about how much you love and miss each other, of course!” Serval chuckled teasingly, sticking her tongue out at her furiously blushing younger brother.

“They— they don’t feel that way about me,” he choked out.

She folded her arms at his defeated tone. “Maybe they don’t, but you two have chemistry!”

She slapped him on the shoulder heartily, which caused him to choke on the breath he was taking. “I can tell they care for you. And since when have Landaus been ones to give up?”

Gepard let out an exhale through his nose at the saying his sister would always repeat when they were kids.

“…never,”

“That’s right, little brother! Now, how long before your little date?”

He sighed again. “I’m going after I put my shield in the barracks,”

This time, it was Serval’s turn to freeze. “Right now?!” Her eyes burned holes into him.

“Yes, right now,”

She launched herself at him and dug her long nails into his shoulders. He stumbled backwards, trying to keep his balance. “NO. NO YOU CAN’T. NOT LIKE THAT,”

“Why is that?” Gepard blinked in surprise.

“You’re off duty today and you’re still in uniform? We’ve gotta get you tidied up,” she gasped.

“I sincerely doubt that they care—,” he started, remembering the time you showed up to a cafe with your gardening gloves on and dirt smudged on your face.

Serval bristled at him. He swallowed nervously.

He knew better than to keep talking.

His sister grabbed him harshly by the shoulder and yanked him out the door towards the estate.

Oh Aeons. This wasn’t going to be good.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

And finally, there you were. Gepard spotted you people watching as you waited outside of the Belobog History and Culture Museum, back rested on the handrail languidly, like a tourist.

You turned towards him with one hand gripping a pamphlet, the other shielding your eyes from the sun and—

Oh wow.

Why did he look like that?

He was taking long strides towards you, in an outfit that could only be described as way over-the-top. His hair was slicked back so you could see his forehead and (very strong) jawline, and he wore a brilliant white suit with silver accents that was most definitely meant for something more formal than a trip to the museum.

Additionally, he had on a long white cape that stopped at his ankles. With the bright sunlight shining down, it was blinding.

He looked like a foreign prince, from one of those novels Vaska liked to read. One woman’s jaw dropped as he passed by.

Oh, Aeons. Serval had definitely played a part in this one.

You, on the other hand, wore the same thing you always did. The green florist’s uniform coupled with a beret (which was rather charming, in your opinion). You shook yourself off and walked up to meet him.

“Hiya Captain!” You said as he approached.

Gepard felt something stab through his chest at the formal title, but he brushed it off.

“Glad to see you’re back in shape— and whoa, you look nice today.”

You looked him up and down keenly, and Gepard thought he felt his heart stop.

“Y-yes. I happened to have made a full recovery, thank you. Shall we go in?” He cringed inwardly at his inability to speak.

As much as he hated it, Serval was right. His heart was beating sixteenth notes as he looked at you. And no matter what he did, he couldn’t slow it down.

You nodded. But your eyes darted to the side for a second, showing a hint of uncertainty.

“Yeah! Um… Maybe lose the cape though?”

You gasped as you saw him quickly cover his face with his hand.

“N-not like it doesn’t look good on you! I was just thinking it might catch on the displays, y’know,”

“No, no. I get it.” Gepard let out a small groan, much like an arctic bear cub. “Serval insisted on dressing me up before I left. I should have told her not to.”

He grimaced, knowing all too well that it wouldn’t have made a difference either way. He then unclasped the cape and rolled it up into a tight ball, tucking it under his arm.

Whew. That was most definitely better. He looked less like a prince and more like your average rich noble. Although, if you were being honest, that wasn’t great either.

And so, he showed you into the museum with the hospitality of an attendee (he had worked there, after all). You felt like royalty. And Aeons, the lobby was absolutely perfect. It had an air of welcoming in it, and it smelled like history! Or dust. One of the two, you figured.

In true Underworld fashion, you waltzed up to the reception desk and immediately began making small talk. The blonde woman seemed startled but made nothing of it.

“How much for tickets?” You leaned your elbows on the counter. Her eyes landed on Gepard, who unbeknownst to you, was approaching from behind.

“Oh? Are you two here together?” She gasped. You whipped around, startled. “Volunteers are allowed to bring one guest for free. We appreciate your visit, Captain Gepard,”

She bowed her head respectfully and he nodded. He lightly placed a hand on your shoulder, which in turn, caused you to jump nearly half a foot in the air.

Great. Just great.

“Would you like to accompany me to the automaton section first?” He inquired. You weren’t certain, but you thought you heard a hint of shyness in his tone.

Like I’d run off without my tour guide in a building this big, you thought, glancing up at the huge arching ceilings in the main area.

“Sure! You’d better give me a tour worth a five-star review, Captain,” you chuckled.

That seemed to flip a switch. “I’ll do my utmost,” he declared.

He glanced down at you as you laughed lightly at his fiercely determined demeanor, feeling his cheeks warm at the sound of your voice. And with that, you began your tour through the museum.

First you stopped at the side parlor, which housed numerous automatons borrowed from the Robot Settlement. The models were polished and the descriptions were lengthy, which made you beam with pride. They sure knew how to treat the robots right.

Next you made your way to the main hall. It had an abundance of artifacts in sturdy glass cabinets, and beautifully intricate paintings that stole your breath away.

Gepard made sure to narrate every piece you seemed even moderately interested in. He loved how your eyes seemed to sparkle when he’d quote something he’d read in a history book, giving you a taste of the delves of information he kept stored in his brain as a Belobogian noble.

If it were up to him, you’d have access to every archive on the face of Jarilo-VI.

And you, you loved how he’d get so absorbed in explaining things that the words seemed to pour out of his mouth as he pointed at the displays. Even with the hum of the Geomarrow heaters and the constant chatter of visitors, his voice was the only one you seemed to hear.

Such simple joy it brought you. Here, staring at the photograph of the Eversummer Florists together, and chatting as if you weren’t two whole worlds apart. Gepard’s eyes took in every detail, every flower and every ray of sunlight trickling in through the windows.

You tore your gaze away from his profile to stare at your leather shoes just for a moment. Something vague flapped at the corners of your mind, but now really wasn’t the time to try and sort it out, you told yourself.

“Why don’t we tour the projector room next?” Gepard said, leaning down to look you in the eyes intently. You felt your heart leap at his voice.

Boy, were you in deep.

You mustered a smile as best you could, hoping it wasn’t too stiff.

“Sure! Lead the way,”

You had never seen such a wonderful piece of technology before. You both sat down on the velvet benches, entranced by the images flickering across the canvas.

This time, it was Gepard’s turn to stare. He’d seen it all before in his days as a volunteer. But seeing you gazing in awe at the projection as the light reflected in your eyes. That was something new.

Sitting there, shoulder to shoulder. Like equals. Watching the same screen, seeing the same things. It made his heart flutter like nothing ever had.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

“Wow. I am wiped!” you exclaimed after departing from the museum. “That was a great tour. Do you accept tips, Mister Volunteer Guide?” You grinned at him and Gepard let out an amused huff.

“I simply repeated what they taught me in primary school,”

“Yeah?” You inquired. “It was super immersive, though. I think you’d make a great history teacher,”

He went almost entirely pink at the compliment.

You chuckled to yourself. It wasn’t hard to make him blush, you thought.

“And also, what’s a primary school?” You piped up.

“Oh?” He paused. “It’s the first school kids attend on the surface. They learn to read, write, and all the other various things required of them,”

“Really? I remember Natasha teaching us how to read and write, but then it was straight to the mines for us,” you pondered, reminiscing back on your childhood in the Great Mine.

Suddenly, Gepard’s shoulder crashed into yours, sending you reeling into the Geomarrow heater to your left with a loud bang. You hurriedly grabbed it before it crashed to the ground.

Interestingly enough, the cause of this confusion was a small but speedy child, who had rammed into Gepard’s right leg by accident.

The child with short umber hair didn’t look back once after knocking into you, shouting “sorry,” and continuing to sprint, as a gang of ten or more children trampled after him. Their footsteps echoed along the walls of the lower floor of the Administrative district, which amplified them until it really did sound like a herd of animals.

All of the kids were carrying flags and pinwheels, staple items for the upcoming Solwarm festival, but they were wearing clothes belonging to both the Overworld and the Underworld.

This sent a jolt of surprise to your core. They played together so easily, it was like the past few decades hadn’t even happened.

“Little rascals,” you snickered, pulling away from the bench and brushing yourself off. You both stood and watched the children barrel down the road, knocking unsuspecting grown-ups into the next week. At one point, they stopped in a wide-open area and began to kick around a beanbag, their laughter ringing like bells.

Gepard’s brows furrowed, a pensive look appearing on his face.

“What’s on your mind?” You tilted your head at him with a smile on your lips.

His thoughtful expression had to have been one of your favorites.

He returned your gaze from where he was staring at the children chattering, running, and playing without a care in the world. Gepard felt the pang of a familiar memory in his chest.

“I was just considering… how nice it is to see relationships between the Overworld and the Underworld lessening in tension.”

He sighed. “I know it may sound silly, but some used to discourage interactions between the two,”

The look in Gepard’s eyes became a little more distant. “My father, for instance,”

You looked at him questioningly as he drew in a deep breath.

“I remember he once threw a vase at me in a fit of anger, after discovering I’d been visiting a group of kids from the mines,”

He glanced at the ground, looking quite like a lost puppy. “I had never heard the stories that they were telling before, so I just… kept going back to listen,”

You felt your mouth fall slightly ajar. He kept speaking.

“Thankfully, I didn’t get hurt that day, but the only reason is because my sister stepped in order to protect me,”

Your eyes widened in shock. “How— how old were you?”

“I believe I was five at the time,” Gepard stated. Almost like it was nothing.

“I think that’s where I gained some of my resolve,” he continued. “My own sister stepped forward to protect me without a thought for her own safety. So I grew up wanting to be strong, like her,”

Gepard curled his hand into a fist, letting memories of his childhood wash over him in his usual manner of acceptance. But when he looked back at you, only a glimpse of your face could be seen. You stared at the ground silently, and he could very well tell that your fists and jaw were clenched tight.

Waves of frustration at the realization crashed over you and your breath went hot. You stared back up at him, tears brimming in your eyes.

“He threw… a vase at you?” You said.

Hurt leaked into your voice against your will and you felt your heart had snapped in two. It seemed like both he and Serval harbored animosity toward their father.

And now you knew why. There was no way this was a one-time thing.

“That’s— wow, I don’t know what to say, Gepard,”

The captain showed little to no reaction. He looked back at the plaza with a soft exhale. One that exuded both sadness and gradual adjustment.

“He’s… always been that way. The Landaus, well, they all have their own sort of stubbornness in their values. His just tended to come out more,” he said.

“Stubborn, maybe.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “But he had no right to throw something at you. That could’ve really hurt a small child,”

You remembered being trapped in a landslide as a kid, and another child had kicked you in the face trying to escape. You were sent tumbling down the canyon where you fractured your shoulder and leg.

But to live with someone who, at any moment, could snap and hurt you? That was something else entirely.

Communities in the Underworld were based on a mutual network of trust. You couldn’t imagine having no one to turn to when you were scared. You stifled a sob.

“If I’m being honest with myself,” Gepard said softly, resting a hand on his chin. “It’s stuck with me well into my adult years. I haven’t quite dispelled all the preconceptions I’ve been raised with,”

“It doesn’t seem like he would have give you much room to, anyways,” you commented. “I think you two have both grown up to be wonderful people, even though you’ve faced so many hardships,”

He nodded solemnly, taking each and every word to heart. “But now, seeing these children at play, it gives me hope for the future… That Belobog truly can heal,”

It was at this moment you remembered, the captain was a kid too at one point. Behind the stoic exterior and steadfast resolve, there was a child that laughed and cried. One that had his own internal struggles, besides leading an army and reporting directly to the Supreme Guardian.

His childhood must have really had an impact on him. How would he have been different, if he had grown up in a happier home, you wondered. Despite the pain, you smiled.

Out of the blue, an idea popped into your brain.

“You know what I think, Gepard?” You chirped. “I think you just might be right!”

In a fit driven by inspiration, you leaped onto the nearest cafe table, offering your hand to your startled companion. He took it and carefully stepped onto the steel chair to join you.

“Overworld. Underworld. Why should it matter?” You shrugged confidently. “We’re here already, aren’t we? Look at us!”

You beamed at him and spun around with your arms outstretched on the wooden surface.

Turning to face him, you took both of his hands in yours. They felt warm. A soft kind of happiness filled Gepard’s eyes as he slotted his fingers in between your own.

“That’s right, we are.” He smiled gently.

You stood there for a moment, ignoring all the passerby and also the confused waitress calling for the shop owner.

If only you could take this sliver of time and put it in your pocket. You both held your breath, hoping that if you didn’t move, you could stay there until the world stood still.

Your eyes trailed to Gepard’s cheeks, which still had a slight blush to them, (maybe from the cold), down to the silver clasps that held his jacket together.

Glancing back up at his kind eyes, you felt something inside you chipping its way out.

—love you.

Your eyes went as round as the shield coins they exchanged at the Eversummer Florist’s.

What?

Oh no— oh no. Hold on. I knew something was, um, off, but is my brain playing tricks on me?

Was I just caught up in the moment? Why did I even think that?

Gepard stared at you quizzically, unaware of the mental battlefield you had just gotten your left arm blown off in.

Your heart began to race faster than one of those antique cars they had at the museum. His hands still clasped yours tightly, even as you tried to drop them gently.

You let out a strangled sound from your throat that sounded like “huegh” while steam poured out of your ears.

“(Y/N)?” He said, confused but seemingly unfazed.

You turned towards the closest brick wall, still holding his hands. Your eyes darted around like a cat after a loud disturbance.

No. I cant keep lying to myself like this.

You braced yourself for the realization as best you could.

I’m… in love with Gepard.

It still wasn’t enough. The sky and the ground seemed to reverse that very second as everything went upside down.

Still holding his hands, the first round of mental gymnastics began. You felt almost dizzy as thoughts flooded your brain, so you looked at your shoes to combat it.

(His were there too so it didn’t help much.)

Thoughts like:

Have… I been in love with him this whole time?

And, When did it start? And why? And, Did he notice? What if I’ve been super duper obvious??

And last but not least, Oh, Qlipoth. Please preserve my sanity—,

You blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about—,”

You were lifting your head again in order to make your statement seem sincere when, something that was crazier than the time you decided to go crowd surfing on a line of robots, popped into your mind.

Kiss him. A part of you whispered internally.

Every muscle in your body froze.

Do it. You know you want to, the voice spoke again.

Your eyes travelled slightly downward to his lips. All you had to do was—

You yanked your hands away from his harshly, opting to stare at his chest instead of his face in shame.

Oh. My. AEONS. You grabbed your face with both hands. Did I think that? Did I just think that??

No. I don’t think I did, you consoled yourself hurriedly. I think Serval developed a device that projects thoughts into people’s heads, and I’m her test subject!

Gepard made a slight movement. A jerk of the head, which was nothing noteworthy now that you look back on it, but with everything going on at that moment, it was enough to set you off.

You yelped. Just like a snow fox.

The next few moments were a blur. You had taken a step backward without realizing you were on a table, and the surface was in fact, finite, and ended up toppling onto the cold stone ground behind you.

You narrowly missed a stack of crates, which would have definitely left a mark, had you landed on one of the edges.

Gepard had practically leaped off the table to check if you were okay, but the shopkeeper had appeared, waving his broom furiously at the both of you.

Your companion tried his best to placate the man but he wasn’t having it.

In a rush of adrenaline, you scrambled to your feet and took grabbed Gepard’s hand, making a quick dash around the corner.

Hopefully the man wouldn’t recognize him. With this particular outfit, you thought Gepard might stand a chance.

In a cruel twist of fate, you both ended up huffing and puffing in a narrow alleyway behind a drugstore. All that dotted the area was a dumpster and a few posters advertising a play that was five months out of season.

“I think we lost him,” you panted, and promptly dissolved into giggles. “Did you see his face? He was all like—,” you cut off, waving your arms around with a wacky expression.

You wheezed once more and doubled over to hold your stomach as cackling erupted from your throat. Gepard was resting against the wall as well, while his chest heaved with effort.

“Ohhh!” You said, raising your head once more. “Now I remember what I was saying— I wanted to thank you for showing me around so often. I hope I’m not being too much of a burden,” you chuckled to yourself.

Gepard pulled the cape out from where it had been caught between his legs before he responded.

“Not in the slightest, (Y/N). I’m always happy to be of assistance,” he responded.

You wiped fake sweat off your brow (even though you really were sweating). “Sweet. I’m gonna go grab a drink from the vending machine, if ya don’t mind. Want one?”

“I’d appreciate it,”

You ran to the vending machine while Gepard waited, keeping a lookout while his back was pressed against the wall. He was certain his jacket would need a fair amount of dry cleaning afterward. You bounded back with two Strawberry Svarog sodas in hand and popped them open.

Gepard threw his head back and drank heartily. He let out a satisfied sigh after drinking the last drop, while you clutched your bottle tightly after only drinking it halfway.

He was almost seen. You were struck with this thought.

You grimaced. There’s no way the higher ups at the fort would appreciate whatever tomfoolery you were dragging him into.

I shouldn’t let these feelings— no, myself, get in his way.

You two were completely different people, after all. He had a job and a reputation to hold down. You were just a florist.

Maybe they’ll fade with time. You hoped. I guess… I just have to hold on until then,

Because… because there’s no way he’d feel that way about me.

For a split second, it seemed like all of your happiness had leaked out of you and disappeared down the storm drain.

You quickly swallowed the feelings that had formed a hard lump in your throat. Hoping to clear up the silence, you whipped towards Gepard with false cheer, in hopes he wouldn’t notice your mood had dampened.

“So, Captain—,”

His lip stiffened. Again with the “captain?”

“Didja hear the news about the observatory?” You chattered, kind of absentmindedly. “They’ve finally been able to repair the main telescope, and soon it’ll be open for public use again!”

“Is that so? The last time I used that telescope, I was just a boy,” he replied, slightly shocked.

“Yep! I’ve seen the sky before, but I’ve never seen it, like… up close. You know?”

He smiled as you spread your arms grandly.

“Do the guards have a telescope?” You asked with a curious look in your eyes.

Gepard thought for a second, before he replied, “I imagine we did, many hundreds of years ago. But I think the Fragmentum threat posed too great a danger on the surface that—,”

He glanced up at the small patch of sky unobscured by the walls of the alleyway. It sparkled in his eyes.

“—we could no longer afford to pay attention to the sky,”

You joined him in gazing at the clouds.

What a world that would be.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

Bonus Scene 1

After the events that had transpired, and you both had gone home, Gepard was now focused on unbuttoning the seemly endless number of clasps on his coat.

This clasp in particular was incredibly frustrating. Every time he’d get ahold of it, it would slip out from between his fingers.

The captain was considering giving up and just wearing the gaudy thing forever when numerous alerts from Serval went off on his phone.

From: Serval at 15:19

Serval: geppie

Serval: hey

Serval: howd it go

You: Well, thank you.

The captain pinched the bridge of his nose irritably. Couldn’t she have waited at least an hour or so before barging in on his affairs?

His phone dinged once more.

I suppose that’s a no.

From: Serval at 15:20

Serval: is that all?

Serval: You’re totally leaving something out

Serval: oops. im being nosy again.

Serval: Call me if u wanna talk, ok?

Gepard sighed, debated for a moment what he’d rather do, then finally gave in and hit the “call” button.

[“Geppie! You called!”] Serval’s voice crackled to life through the speaker.

He could hear her smile radiating through the phone. The corners of his lips rose slightly, much to his own surprise.

“Indeed I did, sister,”

Bonus Scene 2

Back at the scene on top of the cafe table!

To keep his hands from trembling, Gepard stayed completely and utterly still.

Probably too still.

Your hands were warm, so warm. Although standing on top of a table at a random cafe wasn’t the most romantic setting, he felt like he could bring you into his embrace right then and there.

Never before had he felt so lacking in control of his own desires. Something seemed to be tugging at your thoughts, as you were looking around anxiously.

Could it be you didn’t want him to be spotted because his face was so well known? Gepard could only guess what kind of thoughts were bouncing around your brain.

He watched as you looked, back up from your shoes, to his sheepish face. Your eyes were more beautiful than the clearest ice crystals. Warmer, too. His gaze softened as he saw your eyes flick toward his lips.

And then Gepard did the unthinkable.

He leaned in closer.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

That choice did not end well for either of you.

After checking if you had hit your head and ducking into the nearest alleyway, Gepard wanted to strangle himself mentally.

Why? Why had he made such a stupid decision?

Out of all the choices, that was the most reckless one.

He really should have known better. At this rate, he risked losing your friendship because of his own selfish feelings.

The captain rested his back against the wall in shame as you ran to get drinks from a vending machine.

A man of his caliber shouldn’t be making such mistakes. He should get his act together and court you correctly, for the love of Qlipoth.

But Aeons, he could only ask himself:

What if he had waited a single second longer?

2024 - Dreaming-of-Mossballs - Do not repost/translate without my permission - NO AI

💙 THANKS FOR READINF I LOVE YOU 💙

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nightsinbluevelvet · 4 months ago

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Matt Bomer's 2024 looks, part 2

Time for Matt's 2024 event looks part 2! Part 1 can be found here.

Matt has treated us to such unbelievable, unprecedented beauty this June that I still haven't nearly recovered from it. This time it's almost impossible to choose a favourite look, or even a favourite picture for each look - so profoundly stunning are they.

This post is only about his physical looks/outfits, but there's a thing or two to be said about how lovely he has been, too, and he has really moved through this promo period with such seemingly effortless grace. I love him more than ever, and miss him terribly right now.

Anyway, on to the pictures. I've included the Getty Museum look, even though it's from a photo shoot and not an event, because it's just so gorgeous.

Getty Museum photo shoot, 31 May 2024

Fellow Travelers FYC panel, 1 June 2024

White Collar panel, 6 June 2024

IndieWire Honors, 6 June 2024

Critics Choice event, 7 June 2024

Fellow Travelers FYC panel, 8 June 2024

Peabody Awards, 9 June 2024

Santoni show, 16 June 2024

Prada show, 16 June 2024

Tod's show, 16 June 2024

Armani show, 17 June 2024

Filming Italy photocall, 22 June 2024

Filming Italy red carpet, 22 June 2024

Filming Italy red carpet, 23 June 2024

Comments:

Matt in an all-white suit and perfect hair, strolling around a museum? Swoon!! I was completely dead already at this point, and it wasn't even June yet.

Matt in an all-burgundy suit, with soulful eyes and a button malfunction? Consider me weak!

That's Neal Caffrey, all right. Stunning!

Same day, still super cute

All-white suit again, completely drop-dead gorgeous. Also, I love this signature pose of his.

Then, just as I thought it couldn't get better, he wore all-black instead, including a silky cardigan with nothing underneath, and basically looked better than ever. Here I was really starting to lose it.

Looking proper in an all-navy suit, but still seductive as hell with the open buttons. Very sexy!

Then we get to the Milan Fashion Week and really dangerous waters. First up is the Santoni show, where Matt wore a mint green outfit that looked incredible. Even if the beard was still longish (I prefer it short), this look was astonishing to me. His hair was amazing too. In some pictures, these clothes leave rather little to the imagination (in the best way possible). He looks both sweet and ultra-sexy.

At the Prada show his beard was shorter, which is why my brain completely short-circuited from this point onwards. How he managed to look great in a blue leather shirt and leather shorts I do not know, but he looked so cute, and young.

At the third show the same day, Tod's, he - unbelievably - again looked better than ever before. Extremely dilfy in a good way, just simply jaw-dropping. Best look so far. Should have been impossible to top (no pun intended).

But then came the next day and the Armani look, which broke the internet. I'll choose this one as my favourite, and actually it's possibly my favourite look ever on Matt. Everything is perfect: his curly hair, even shorter beard/stubble, ARMS, and how his body looked when he walked in those white trousers. I don't think any man could ever be better looking than this.

Not much to say. Gorgeous hair. Shirt not so nice. He's beautiful.

Matt in a silk suit? Yes please.

This look is really extremely hot. Love it!!

So, my favourites are:

Armani show

Tod's show

June 8 FYC panel

What are your favourites? I'm so curious to know what everyone thinks.

Thanks to mattbomerfan.com for most of the pictures!

#matt bomer #fellow travelers #fellow travelers promo #men's fashion

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mausinly · 9 months ago

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BIG BURLY FLUSTERED MEN with a/o who takes one of their hands and kisses their knuckles - knuckles that have been covered in blood - and big burly man (I’m imagining König) just self destructs. Blue screens. Combusts.

Unwinding after operations is always a hassle. There's this limbo between finishing the mission and arriving back at base where adrenaline is still high, but you can't stay in one place long enough to come down from it.

Everyone is still milling about the building your unit is using as a temporary base. Counting your dead, if any, and treating the wounded before heading to the drop ships to fly back to KorTac's base.

You and König are holed off in a corner of the courtyard, you being seated on a bench with your back pressed against the wall while he sits on the ground between your legs. He rests his head back on your thigh, and you can feel the way he fidgets. Itching for something when there is nothing left to do but wait. His mask is still on, along with the rest of his gear. One of his hands idly tap your ankle, trying to find some way to release this anxious energy he has until you both can get back to base, where he knows it's safe.

You look down at him and remove your gloves, placing them aside before sneaking one of your hands under his hood and the balaclava beneath. Your fingers drag against the column of his neck, and your nails gently scratch his nape, making him groan and tilt his head back further to look up at you.

König let's out a grunt and fixes you a curious look. You hold out your free hand toward him. "Give me your hand." You murmur, and he does so compliantly.

He melts a little at the pleased little smile you give him, eyes darting down to where your hand holds his. His are so much bigger than yours, thicker too with the bulky material of his gloves. The fabric is stained red, speckles of blood still wet and crimson. He frowns a little at the idea of your hands becoming stained as well.

König thinks to rip his hand from yours, but falters when you begin to tug the leather off his fingers and down his wrist until his skin is released from the suffocating material. His hands are rough, pale and scarred and calloused. Your hands aren't perfect, but they are much more delicate and pretty than his in comparison.

You seem to disagree, though, with the way your hands trace the shape of his. You spread his fingers a little, dragging your nails along each callous and faded scar. It's almost devout in the way you study each line of his palm, the pads of your fingers so gentle against his skin.

You lift his hand up to your lips, tenderly pressing a kiss to each knuckle. You start at the base before moving down each finger, almost as if you don't want any of them to be left out. He would have laughed at the thought if his body wasn't frozen like a deer in headlights.

Your eyes fall down to his and your smile widens at the absolutely mystified look in his eyes, stormy blues flickering between yours and your lips against his hand as his pupils dilate.

His mouth opens and closes underneath his mask, but any attempts to speak die in his throat. How could you put so many thoughts in his head that he is unable to fabricate them into words? Do you have any clue what you do to him?

You let out a small chuckle and go back to kissing his hand, trailing your lips down across his palm and the back of his hand. You pull down the edge of his sleeve just to press your lips to his wrist. König groans as your affection doesn't let up, long and pained as his head lulls against your thigh and he drapes an arm over his eyes.

"Du wirst mein Tod sein, Engel..." He murmurs, thankful that his mask hides the stupid grin on his face.

#maus writes #i have no fucking clue what just came over me #i opened my ask box and posted my pinned post with the intention of replying to some brainrotting asks with like 2-3 paragraphs or smth #you got a whole drabble as a treat thank you for the most amazing prompt nonnie <3 #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #konig x reader #konig cod #konig mw2 #also sorry if the german is atrocious blame google translate 😔#im a sucker for some hand appreciation and i know konig would be too

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liz-allyn · 2 years ago

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sugar and vice, pt 3 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: Tensions rise in close proximity.

words: 3.9 k

warning: mob-typical violence. whump. hurt/comfort. drugging. coersion. shameless forced proximity trope. imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions.

you're responsible for your own content consumption. but that being said, if you don't know what a brangelina is or why everyone cared about it, move along.

Back to Part 2

Part 3

In her dreams, she was chasing a pig that had stolen her keys to a car that didn’t exist. It was important for her to find the pig, and fast. Today was graduation day, and she had accidentally forgotten to go to class for a whole semester. On top of that, there was a talent show to perform at. Tod would be there and he wasn’t going to go easy on her.

The reality she awoke to was far more bizarre.

Her eyelids opened as her stress dreams circled the drain, leaving behind a sticky, anxious residue. After a few dry-eyed blinks, taking in the daylight, she registered that she wasn’t at home.

It was a weird feeling. Like waking up hungover in a hotel room. The first moments of disorientation followed up with pieces of the night before.

She was buried beneath a heavy down comforter, in a bed so comfortable she had to unearth herself from it. She glanced back and forth. She was alone in the king-sized bed, and that brought her relief.

She pushed herself up out of the covers, and immediately regretted it. Her shoulders burned and her body creaked from the nightmare that was yesterday. Her stomach twisted as upsetting images filled her mind.

As soon as Miles had escorted her back to the main bedroom, he’d told her that she’d be safe, that there was a lock on the door, and that she should get rest. She wasn’t in any state to argue. When the door closed, she found the pile of neatly folded clothes on top of a dresser nearby.

She was in a zombie-like state. Weeping, she peeled the terry robe from her body and hastily pulled on the clothes left behind: a super-soft poly blend T-shirt and thick joggers. There was even a pair of socks, made for feet twice the size of her own. Judging by the size of the items, they were most likely Peter’s. As soon as she put them on, she recognized that they smelled like Peter.

Her mind very well could’ve dwelled on the dichotomy of her reaction to wearing his scent. But the exhaustion she felt was unlike any other. She shuffled her feet to the bed and her body dropped. She was fast asleep within seconds.

Now, both rested and exhausted, she had a chance to worry over all of the things that could have taken place. The door was locked, but obviously Peter would’ve had a key. Was it locked from the inside, or out? The rest of the bed looked undisturbed. It wouldn’t appear that she had any visitors, and she didn’t remember one coming in. But she was so disoriented and exhausted, she felt like she couldn’t trust her own perception.

Peter had promised he “wouldn’t try anything.” Those words swam around her head and her heart and her stomach. She had the urge to throw up.

She stepped into the bathroom and glanced at her own reflection. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy from a night full of crying. Her head ached on the inside and out, particularly around the purpling cut on her forehead that had been stitched together.

The skin on her wrists looked horrible. Stripes of red welts dotted with scabs lined her forearms. The skin around her lips and mouth was better off, only a little inflammation. Peter had been right about the tape burns, and she should’ve let him help her. A fact that made her angry to admit.

Her stomach rumbled and her mouth was desert-dry. She needed food. Basic needs. Function.

In the daylight, she finally had a chance to look at the T-shirt she’d hastily thrown on in the dark. It was a dark heather gray crewneck featuring a screen-printed art design of a classic point-and-shoot camera.

Beneath it were the words ‘I SHOOT PEOPLE.’

She went slackjawed at the ridiculousness of the shirt. And of the entire situation.

The moment she stepped onto the staircase leading to the main level, she was engulfed in the delicious aroma of a breakfast feast. Like a cartoon character, she floated down the stairs, following the scent and sound of sizzling meat.

At the bottom, she slowed to a halt, eyes wide at the bizarre image before her.

With a dish towel thrown over his shoulder and wielding a spatula like a sword, Peter stood focused at the gas stove, tending to a rack of thick-cut bacon. Beside him was a steaming, copper-core frying pan of sunny-side-up eggs. He wore a pair of black slacks with a thin white undershirt, both from the day before. His dark brown hair was messy in a somehow put-together way, taking years off of him.

If the bathroom made it to a pin on the Pinterest board of her dreams, she would’ve needed a whole section dedicated to the kitchen. Like the bathroom, the kitchen was likely bigger than half of her apartment. There was a similar aesthetic to the other rooms—a color palate of moody hues of grey, navy, and ebony, highlighted with golden fixtures. Oak cabinets stained in a night grey. A backspace of deep navy ceramic tile organized into a stack bond pattern. These darker elements were illuminated by natural light streaming through the bay windows and skylight.

She would’ve thought she was in a chef’s kitchen by the look and expense of the features and appliances themselves. A twelve-grate gas range, dual convection ovens with isolated temperature control, a dark granite farmhouse apron-front sink touting two faucets with retractable spring hoses. Her eyes drifted, jaw agape, and landing on a sight that blew her mind the most.

Buried within the black oak cabinetry, next to a built-in wine fridge, was a 24-inch, industrial-grade automatic coffee system.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she muttered, catching Peter’s attention. He turned towards the stairs, taking in the sight of her dressed in his clothes. He did a double-take at the shirt she was wearing. His shirt. He rolled his eyes a bit, cursing Felicia’s sense of humor in gifting him that shirt.

But Honey’s eyes were elsewhere. Peter followed her befuddled gaze to his ridiculously expensive coffee machine. One of those Jetsons-level contraptions where you press a button and it makes anything you want.

She balked at the sight and the brand name, her head spinning. She tried to do the math in her head, then after about 5 seconds, she cursed her inability to do math.

It was worth thousands of shitty coffees.

“Is that what I think it is?” she blurted. She rushed from the stairs to the wall where the coffee maker was, gawking at it like it was a flying car. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how it works,” she said accusingly. “You don’t know how to use this thing, do you?”

He gazed at her with a suspiciously cool stare. “I know how it works.” He pinned her with dark eyes and the shadow of a half-smirk, before turning back to the stove. “Glad you’re up,” he said, changing the subject. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

She was still contemplating the idea that a man who owned and could operate an espresso machine that cost five grand would still make the journey to her coffee shop every day.

“Have a seat, I’ll bring it to ya,” he called over his shoulder, turning off the burners.

She pouted at him, brow curled, “What if I’m not sure if I’m hungry?”

He shot an incredulous glance at her. “Yeah, right.”

Her pouting was interrupted by the sound of her stomach growling. Kicking her foot in frustration, she stalked over to a kitchenette table and plopped down in a chair.

“You good with apple juice?” Peter asked, grabbing a jug from the built-in refrigerator. “‘S’all I got.”

“You’re a grown man and you drink apple juice?” she said flatly.

“No. I drink coffee. I keep apple juice around for the tooth fairy and bratty houseguests. You want some or not?”

She raised an eyebrow at him in challenge. “Sure,” she groaned. Her eyes traveled to the center of the kitchen table. Noticed a tiny vase with a handful of gerbera daisies. They hadn’t been there the night before.

Peter brought two plates over to the table, setting one down in front of her, and one down to the place to her immediate left. She didn’t know if it was a conscious decision that Peter had chosen a spot between her and what she perceived as the front door. He came back with a glass of apple juice, and two mugs of steaming black coffee. She continued to watch him meticulously lay out a spread of condiments on the table, including cream, raw sugar, and clover honey. He even had appropriate little containers for each one.

The smell of the food immediately intoxicated her. Without hesitation, she grabbed the fork off the placemat beside her and got to work. Each morsel of her meal melted in her mouth. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste.

“There’s plenty,” he remarked, trying to conceal a smile at her pleased reaction.

Childishly, she chewed bites that were almost too big. Her poor table manners would’ve gotten her a swat from her mother 15 years ago, but she shelved that away. She was ravenous. And even if she wasn’t, the food was really good.

She smacked her lips, grabbing a handkerchief to wipe her mouth. “You know,” she mused, her eyes drifting, “some bright pops of color would really liven this place up. Like some yellows. Or peach. Make it feel not so much like a My Chemical Romance album cover or something. Less dark, y’know?

He took a sip of coffee from his stoneware mug. “I like it dark.”

She rolled her eyes. “‘Course you do,” she muttered beneath her breath.

He had difficulty keeping his lips in a straight line. “Is that what you really wanted to talk about?” he teased.

She leveled her gaze at him from across the table, slowing down enough to allow herself time to properly chew her food, and to think. Focus.

“Who are you?” she asked.

He grabbed his fork, leaning over his plate, now focused on his eggs. “Ben Reilly.”

Her face fell flat. “Really? You’re not going to tell me the truth after everything?”

“It’s not a lie,” he remarked defensively. Looked her in the eye. “It’s my name. Legally. That’s the name on the mortgage. Driver’s license. Car titles. Credit cards. There’s a stack of bills on the bar all with that name.” He pointed in the direction of the pile of envelopes on the bar, as if offering proof.

She glared back. “Then who is Peter Parker?”

His gaze dropped to his plate again. Stabbed his eggs and scooped a bite into his mouth, gnawing bitterly. “He’s who I used to be,” he responded, grim. “But he’s gone.”

He left it at that. She waited a few seconds, watching him while he avoided eye contact. She narrowed her eyes, curiously, “What do you do?”

“Broad question.”

“Vague answers,” she said, countering. “Why do you have more than one name? What pays for all of this?” She twirled her finger, circling it to gesture to the luxurious abode.

He nodded, considering her angle fairly. “My business is managing imports and exports,” he parried. “That’s all you need to know.”

“So what, you’re a drug runner or something?”

His shoulders twitched, like he was shaking off an uncomfortable feeling, “It’s best if you don’t know the details—”

“Oh, my god!” she blurted, face twisted in disgust. “You’re not into creepy stuff— Like in Taken?”

His eyes shot up, puzzled. “What—?”

”Oh, my god—are you a pimp?” she exclaimed accusingly, eyes as wide as saucers. “Do you traffic humans?”

“What—No!” he barked back, offended. “Hell no.” His hackles were raised, agitated. He reaffirmed, more definitively. “Absolutely not—Really? That’s where you went? Why would you say somethin’ like that? Where did you even get that—?”

She threw her arms up, with a dramatic shrug, “Well, what am I supposed to think?!”

“Look, every city has a black market,” he cut her off before she could continue straying off course. “Illegal goods coming in and out. Money changing hands. Some of those goods are more dangerous than others.” He sighed, careful with his words. “I help control what comes in, and I... manage the responsibility of it.” He stared at her, emphatic in his words. “I don’t sell to people who are looking to hurt themselves or someone else. I don’t sell stuff that destroys lives.”

She studied him, a shadow of suspicion in her stare.

“At the very most,” Peter supplied, “I’ll sell the bad stuff to some other clown in Miami, or Chicago, or wherever. As long as it’s off my streets, far away from me and mine.”

“So you’re saying you sell drugs,” she reiterated carefully, with a skeptical glare, “but only to good people? For a noble cause?”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “It’s a dirty business,” Peter defended, annoyed by her oversimplification and judgment. “But it’s all a part of an ecosystem. You take out the wrong animal and another predator thrives. They multiply, they get invasive, and then you have a whole infestation on your hands.”

She blinked at him, crossed her arms. “So... you also do pest control?”

He scoffed, “Somethin’ like that.”

“Okay, so you’re a steward of the community,” her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Why don’t you just get rid of the illegal stuff in the first place? Go after the drug dealers? And the...” She struggled with the term, “I don’t know...Warlords?”

“Little guys,” he replied, with an amused smirk. His eyes were distant, like there was some sort of inside joke she didn’t understand. “Little fish,” he added. His mind sank deep as he stared at his plate. She got the feeling he was elsewhere in his mind. “I used to be a ‘little fish’ kinda guy.”

“And then what?”

He locked eyes with her, his tone humorless, “I met a shark.”

The ominous nature in which he said it gave her pause. She bit her lower lip, glancing down at her plate, unsure of how much more she could eat.

“Who’s the shark in this analogy?” she questioned, less cold. “That guy from the train...Kads? Kat—?’

“Katzenberg,” he supplied, spitting the word out like a rotten seed. He scoffed with a dark chuckle and a rueful shake of his head, “No. He’s not even close.” Peter ripped apart a piece of bacon with his teeth.

She stared back at him, confused, “Well... what’s he gonna tell his boss, then? About last night? What happens when his boss finds out he didn’t do what he was ordered to do?” The words were unsettling, and even speaking them made her uncomfortable. But it was nothing in comparison to how she felt when she looked back at him.

She met Peter’s eyes, and they were dark. Black. A terrifying void. Like staring down into a well. Into a tunnel with no light at the end. A dark cave once you hear a sound and realize you’re not alone.

He fixed that gaze on her, peering out beneath his lashes. Gnawing in silence. Too quiet. The chilling look made her feel faint, the snarkiness and jest of their conversation vanishing instantly.

She realized then that ‘Katz’ wasn’t going to say anything. Ever.

She averted her eyes.

“When can I get a ride home?” She asked, changing the subject with some urgency.

More silence. “Not yet.” He stabbed his eggs with a fork.

Seconds passed, her stomach twisting into a knot, her appetite having vanished almost completely. “What—I... I can’t...” Her voice got tiny, “I gotta get ready. I have to go to work.”

He stared at her with that look again.

She closed her mouth. Opened it again. “At least let me call my manager, and tell her—Wait, where’s my phone?”

“Gone,” Peter replied laconically. “You don’t need it.”

He spoke in short, clipped sentences. It was clear that she was treading into forbidden territory. She just couldn’t imagine why.

“But... I need to get in touch with people,” she gently protested. “I need to call my mom. If she calls me, I need to tell her that I’m okay—”

“Believe me,” Peter interrupted, “anyone else you contact at this point is only gonna get in the way. You’ll be putting them in danger.”

She stared at him, her eyes widening. “This is ridiculous,” she breathed, in denial. “I don’t understand why this is happening.”

The sound of his fork clanging on the plate halted her train of thought immediately. She blinked up at him, observing his darkened gaze. She had upset him, and it made her fearful of what he would do next.

He leaned back in the chair, gazing out the bay window. Fog settled over the city, making the recognizable shapes of Midtown Manhattan across the river blurry. He dropped his napkin on his plate, breakfast being discarded with the action, then he gave her a hard look.

“Because sometimes bad things happen to good people,” he replied flatly. He wasn’t unkind in his tone, but cold—like he was telling her a painful truth. He held her in his gaze as he said it, an expression of frustration, disappointment, and regret in his expression plastered on his face.

He came to an abrupt stand at the table, grabbing his plate. “Eat up,” he said, as if a switch had been flipped and he was talking to one of his men. “There’s a guest bathroom upstairs. When you’re done, get washed up. There’s a bag already up there with a change of clothes, toiletries. Anything else you need, let me know. I’ll have Cat bring it ‘round. We leave here in an hour.”

She blinked up at him, confused. “I can just shower when I get back to my place—”

“We’re not going back to your place.”

“What?” she shook her head. “Wait—where are we going?”

“Shower now,” he said curtly. “One hour.”

Dropping the plate in the sink, he disappeared from her view.

She didn’t have much of an appetite after that.

When she found the guest bathroom upstairs, she halted in the doorway as soon as she spotted the size of the room. Once again, the bathroom was big enough to park several cars in. The shower could fit a Mini Cooper at least. This room lacked the darkness of the other parts of the house, instead colored in soft grays and whites. A double sink vanity was positioned on one side of the room, and on the opposite side was a makeup vanity with cosmetic lighting.

The other stunning sight was on top of a tufted bench that partially pulled out in front of the makeup sight. Four giant shopping bags waited for her, two labeled Bloomingdale’s, and one each from Neiman Marcus and Sephora.

She couldn’t help the skip in her heart at the sight. Rushing towards the bags, like a kid at Christmas, she peeked inside. Immediately, she withdrew her hands, her stomach twisting with shame at her materialism showing its ugly face.

Curiosity soon got the best of her. The first item she pulled from the bag was a jet black, high-collar lace blouse that cost more than she’d make in a day. Her eyes bulged out of her head as she retrieved a black cashmere sweater that cost more than what she made in a week.

On any other day, receiving these items would excite her, tapping into a materialistic, guilty pleasure. But as she gazed at the expensive items, counting the zeros at the end of the price tags, she felt dizzy.

A heavy feeling settled down in the depth of her belly. She didn’t know the real cost of these gifts. Anxiously, she worried she would soon find out.

As instructed, she went back to the living room, fully showered, dressed, and dusted with a light coating of makeup. It was an expensive brand she’d never tried before, and a complexion tone that was a bit more warm than she would have tried. Or maybe that was just Felicia’s opinion of what her preference would be.

After a few seconds, Peter came gliding down the stairs with two leather Eddie Bauer duffle bags.

She curled a brow at him. “Are you taking a trip or something?”

“Or something,” Peter replied, not sparing her a glance. He busied himself with retrieving two coats from the foyer closet, then shuffled his way to the refrigerator.

“Oookay,” she shrugged, awkwardly. Unsure of what to do with herself, she let her eyes wander, pressing her thumbnail into the center of her palm. Her gaze drifted across the living room and landed on a glass terrarium against the wall. Curiously, she breezed up to the tank. Her eyes lit up at the sight of a tiny reptile sunning himself on a log beneath a heat lamp.

She gasped, “Oh my god, you have a bearded dragon?!” Her eyes widened like saucers, her voice thinning into baby talk. “Look at his cute lil’ beard! Ooh, such a little handsome dino buddy, eh? What’s your name?”

“Rex,” she heard Peter reply from behind her. Gasping, she spun around and came face-to-face with him. He held a glass of apple juice out to her.

She blinked, glancing down at the glass, then back at him. “No, thank you,” she replied, puzzled.

“Drink it.” He spoke softly, with but without room for debate.

She stared at him in confusion. “But I’m not thirst—”

“It’s drugged,” he declared, as simply as stating the weather. She met his eyes, alarmed. “Nothin’ heavy. Just something to help you sleep. We’re goin’ far.”

She took a step back, suspiciously frowning at the amber liquid. “I don’t want it.”

When she met his eyes again, that bleak, fiery darkness was staring back at her. He glared, with the slightest tilt of his head. For a brief moment, from a certain angle, it could be mistaken for pity. As quickly as it appeared, it transformed into something more malicious.

“I insist,” he said ominously, eyes narrowing.

It was as if his eyes were an arrow and she had a target on her forehead. She didn’t miss the slight curl of his lips—the shadow of a devious smirk, equally amused and daring her to defy him.

She was pretty sure if anyone else wore that look—in that particular lighting— it could’ve been mistaken for simple arrogance. But this was far more sinister. Possessive. Dominating. His earth-toned eyes threatened to bury her alive.

Every part of her better judgment was screaming at her to run. Fight. Knock the glass from his fingers. But instead, she froze. Like she always did.

She reached forward and took the glass, fingers shaking. He was flaying her with his look, staring intently at her mouth. Her insides burned in the fire of his gaze.

Never breaking eye contact, she downed the glass in several painful gulps. When it was empty, she watched a half-smile stretch across his lips.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

He handed her a leather jacket, while pulling on a coat of his own. She looked at the garment in her grip, then followed suit. She didn’t have to be told.

She remembered finding it surprising how well the jacket fit. She thought it was strange and unsettling that he would know her exact measurements.

She remembered nothing else after that.

Continue to Part 4

A/N What'd you think of this chapter? Reblog to be tagged!

Y'all are so amazing and kind and incredible about the feedback for this fic! It's a nice little exciting slice of cheesecake for me and I'm glad you're able to indulge with me!

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wingedblooms · 1 year ago

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Like a moth to a flame

Maasverse spoilers below. Proceed with caution.

When Feyre and Elain visit the weaver near solstice, we learn that there is a very specific kind of light that not only withstands the darkness, but cuts through it like a blade.

"The silver thread," Elain asked. "What is that called?" The weaver paused the loom again, the colorful strings vibrating. She held my sister's gaze. No attempt at a smile this time. "I call it Hope." My throat became unbearably tight, my eyes stinging enough that I had to turn away, to walk back toward that extraordinary tapestry. The weave explained to my sister, "I made it after I mastered Void." I stared and stared at the black fabric that was like peering into a pit of hell. And then stared at the iridescent, living silver thread that cut through it, bright despite the darkness that devoured all other light and color. (acofas)

That light is Hope. It is a living thread of iridescent light like the healing light that flows from Nesta:

Iridescent light began flowing from Nesta's body. Into Feyre. [...] Tendrils of light drifted between the sisters. And one, delicate and loving, floated toward Mor. (acosf)

I’ve always wondered if the tendrils of iridescent light between the sisters is a hint of what lies between them: raw magic.

“Once, the High Fae were more elemental, more given to reading the stars and crafting masterpieces of art and jewelry and weaponry. Their gifts were rawer, more connected to nature, and they could imbue objects with that power.” (acosf)

We hear about the raw magic of High Fae when the inner circle learns about Nesta’s Made swords. And Sarah just happens to drop art, jewelry, and weaponry as objects that can be imbued with raw magic. Objects that make us think of the sisters: Feyre creates art, Nesta is compared to and actually forges swords, and Elain is gifted art and jewelry that embody nature. She is a blooming flower compared to Nesta’s freshly forged sword (acowar). And the two sisters who have had their stories told have used raw magic to heal (Cauldron; Feyre, Nyx), to create, like the High Fae once did. We will likely see the third sister exhibit rawer magic as well.

We're led to believe that the Mother shows Nesta how to heal Feyre with iridescent light when she agrees to return her magic. We also see a luminous hand (presumably the Mother's) prevent the Cauldron from taking all of Nesta's power, which may be connected to the hand on the mural in Spring that pours the contents of the Cauldron into the void to create Prythian's world. In Herbs she planted, I discussed Elain’s connections to witches and healers (and these categories often overlap, like witches and seers; since the sisters may all possess raw magic, it is not far fetched that Elain could weave sight and healing together as a mystical forest witch would). In that post, I also review how the being we call the Mother behaves a lot like the Other who appears to Yrene in Tower of Dawn. This Other is believed to be Silba, the goddess of healing and gentle deaths. Like the Mother, Silba is also associated with a dark womb, and her healing magic is referred to as world-making power, which brings to mind the hands of creation in Spring.

Yrene, the healer Silba appears to, possesses raw healing magic and it manifests as white light. She uses it to battle Valg magic, which is compared to darkness, void, and hell.

He’d roared around it. His bellowing had been almost as bad as the magic itself. It was a void. It was a new, dark hell. […] She’d hurled her magic against the wall, letting its swarm of burning white lights attack in wave after wave, but—nothing. (tod)

Like water, it seeps into Chaol's legs, and acts like a swarm of fireflies.

Closing her eyes, Yrene let her power seep into his legs like a swarm of white fireflies, finding those damaged pathways and congregating, surrounding the frayed bits that went silent during these exercises, when they should have been lit up like the rest of him. (tod)

Healers' lights are also compared to blooms, and together, they are a field of white flowers.

Blooming lights, along that broken interior. And where they shone... Flesh knitted. Bone smoothed. Light after light after light. [...] Yrene brushed herself along them, waded through them like a field of white flowers, the lights bobbing and swaying in this quiet place of pain. Not lights...but healers. She knew their lights, their essences. (tod)

Her power can also cut through the dark like a weapon, like Hope.

No way to stop Yrene as she plunged into his body, her magic a white swarming light around them, inside them. […] Yrene did not hesitate. She soared through him, down the ladder of his spine, down the corridors of his bones and blood. She was a spear of light, fired straight into the dark, aiming for that hovering shadow that had stretched out once more. That had tried to reclaim him. Yrene slammed into the darkness and screamed. (tod)

Healing magic is repeatedly compared to living things, and we often see Yrene’s raw gift swarm when it attacks the darkness. The term swarm is associated with flying insects, and in particular, honeybees. They swarm protectively when they leave the hive with new life.

“Fire is cleansing. Purifying. But amongst the healing arts, it’s not often used. Too unwieldy. Water is better-tuned to the healing. But then there are raw healing gifts. Like mine.”

“Light,” Chaol said. “It looked like swarming lights, against their darkness.” (tod)

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Elain rose early to accompany Feyre and asked the weaver about the living thread of Hope, especially since this thread resembles the way raw healing magic—living light—behaves in the darkness. We learn that life, in the form of living light, not only pierces the void, but travels through it. Elain is consistently linked to rebirth and the dawn through imagery and her daily routine, rising with the dawn to tend to gardens or help the twins in the kitchen. Dawn is connected to healing magic, and ahappyhermit theorized that Elain may have even healed Cassian’s wounds as Nesta beheaded Hybern in acowar. @silverlinedeyes and @offtorivendell also theorized that Elain might be a Lifesinger, calling to living things around her as she creates. She is often (if not constantly) creating. Whatever happens in canon, it’s clear Elain is the epitome of living light, of Hope:

Beautiful - she'd always been the most beautiful of us. Soft and lovely, like a summer dawn. (acomaf)

She was a rose bloom in a mud field.(acowar)

Even in the middle of winter, she was a bloom of color and sunshine. (acofas)

Her sister's delicate scent of jasmine and honey lingered in the red-stoned hall like a promise of spring, a sparkling river that she followed to the open doors of the chamber. [...] Her sister turned toward her, glowing with health. Elain's smile was as bright as the setting sun beyond the windows. (acosf)

Her brown eyes were bright with tears, but she kept her chin high. (acosf)

Even on the longest night of the year, she glows like the dawn, when light pierces the darkness.

But even the silence weighed too heavily, and though the shadows kept him company, as they always had, as they always would, he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was. The Fanlights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat. (Azriel's bonus chapter)

Nesta placed her symbol, a bloom made in the icy darkness of winter, next to the Mother's figurine on the mantle. The Mother who showed Nesta how to use her raw magic to heal. We learn in tod that healers sense Death nearby when they are called upon to heal someone’s wounds or ease their passing (hence the reference to gentle deaths). And as @psychologynerd reminded me, Elain uses her hands to bring joy and beauty to others, even in death.

Elain quietly washed his face. Combed out his hair and beard. Straightened his clothes.

She found flowers—somewhere. She laid them at his head, on his chest.

We stared down at him in silence. “I love you,” Elain whispered, voice breaking.

Nesta said nothing, face unreadable. There were such shadows in her eyes. I had not told her what I’d seen—had let them tell me what they wanted.

Elain breathed, “Should we—say a prayer?”

We did not have such things in the human world, I remembered. My sisters had no prayers to offer him. But in Prythian …

“Mother hold you,” I whispered, reciting words I had not heard since that day Under the Mountain. “May you pass through the gates; may you smell that immortal land of milk and honey.” Flame ignited at my fingertips. All I could muster. All that was left. “Fear no evil. Feel no pain.” My mouth trembled as I breathed, “May you enter eternity.”

Tears slid down Elain’s pallid cheeks as she adjusted an errant flower on our father’s chest, white-petaled and delicate, and then backed away to my side with a nod. (acowar)

I can’t help but wonder where she might’ve found those white flowers on a blood-stained battlefield. Did she actually find them, or did she will them from the soil with her own magic? I love that she does not balk from death and finds a way to nurture life amid bloodshed.

And like a moth to a flame, Azriel—Death incarnate—is repeatedly drawn to Elain, whose light seems to be able to cut through his shadows. A match in power for the darkness.

Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hands still lingering on the hilt of the blade. I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection...that knife. (acowar)

Truth-Teller, a Starborn heirloom, is the bridge between them. It is a bridge of power, where dark and light blend together, creating the harmonious contrast of dawn and dusk. Dark light. @offtorivendell wrote beautifully about how this scene hints at their future, and @psychologynerd suggested it represents an alchemical marriage. I have also wondered what might happen if their powers are joined like their hands in this scene. In one hand, Elain creates joy and life, and in the other hand, Azriel inflicts pain and death. They have also traded roles when called upon, usually in response to the other. This might explain why Azriel’s power also behaves like a dark counterpart to Elain’s, shadows gathering information as her Sight does, twining like her prophetic vine of flowers. They also swarm like the living light of healing when Azriel—or someone he cares about—is threatened.

"Because of the shit with Elain?" Azriel stilled. "What happened to Elain?" Cassian waved a hand. "A fight with Nesta. Don't bring it up," he warned when Azriel's eyes darkened. Cassian blew out a breath. "I take that as a no regarding the meeting topic, then." "It's about what I discovered. Rhys said he requires you both there." "It's bad, then." Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. "You all right?" His brother nodded. "Fine." But the shadows still swarmed him. Cassian knew it was a lie, but didn't push it. Az would speak when he was ready, and Cassian would have better success convincing a mountain to move than getting Az to open up. (acosf)

Elain had a mere fight with her sister and cold-as-death Azriel nearly lost his shit. His eyes darkened and his shadows swarmed him, promising pain. He wasn’t even there to witness the fight, he just heard about it after the fact. Death clearly has it bad for the lovely fawn. And I fully expect to see her living light bring him to his knees. Like a moth to a flame.

#living light #a match in power for the dark #power attracts power #Death and the lovely fawn #twining vines and shadows #swarming light and shadows #like a moth to a flame #Hope and Void #a blend of the two #dark light #elriel #elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #tog healers #maasverse connections #elainarcheronweek2023 #day 7 #elain archeron week 2023

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sailorsenshishitposter · 6 months ago

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Ryoumen Sukuna x Reader

⚠️ Warning for cannibalism I guess? But if you're reading this then you already expected that.

Ryoumen Sukuna:

Your favorite movie is Sweeny Tod, you would let a serial killer step on you if they were hot or you're secretly Yorozu. You make Gojo stans look like saints.

First Date:

You reach the next village only to see corpses laid to waste admist a pit of fire. You walk through an ocean of blood and notice that some of the bodies have giant teeth marks gouged into their flesh. "What the hell!?" You descend further. Were those voiced you heard? "How could anyone survive this carnage?" You kept moving closer until you could make out two figures engulfed by smoke. You then scurried to a tree and hid behind it while you watched.

There was a monk? Were they cooking? But what could they be eating if there's nothing around? Then it dawned on you. You resisted the urge to vomit. You then took another peek. You then felt your heart throb as you gazed at the handsome creature ahead of you. "I can't believe I found God..." You then took note of his for eyes. For some reason you weren't scared. "All the better to see me with..." Then you noticed the four arms. "All the better to hold me with..." You began to wonder if he had extra body parts elsewhere. You then shook your head. "I need this man!"

Sukuna was eating roasted torso a la Urame when he heard what sounded like an irritating mosquito. He was only partially wrong. There was another whiney human running towards him. "Another fight? I just started eating..." He then put down his bowl of blood broth. He was prepared to flick you into outer space with his claws but then you did something unexpected. "What is this!?"

There you were on the ground, kneeling. "PLEASE STEP ON ME, MY LORD!" Uraume then gave a disgusted look as they were already kink shaming you. You then looked into their eyes. "PLEASE! I'M NOT LIKE THE OTHER GIRLS! I CAN CHANGE HIM! HE JUST NEEDS MY LOVE-" Sadly you never had a chance to finish your sentence. The man in front of you began splitting you apart (not the way you wished) as he activated world slash. You fell over and began to fade out. Before you lost consciousness, you were grabbed by your hair.

"Why can't you be happy with just being normal?" You tried to speak but only blood came out. Sukuna then dropped you to the ground. "Pathetic... Love is worthless. Never forget that." He then kicked your corpse out of his sight. "Come, Uraume. Let us take leave." The monk then gathered all the clean bones and constructed them into a vehicle. Uraume and Sukuna then peddled their feet and drove away like in the Flinstones opening.

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justaaveragereader · 1 year ago

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The Worlds Loudest Wingmen

Wooyoung and San help “prep” Yeosang for his very first date. Did I forget to mention they were the loudest/worst wingmen ever?

Pairing: Yeosang x Reader, College AU

Genre: Fluff, Humor

Word Count: 2.9k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is this a good idea?” Yeosang lowly whispered without trying to look suspicious.

“This plan is foolproof. Trust me.” Wooyoung cackled loudly.

“You are a fool Woo.” San spoke up suddenly. Initiating a small argument to break out between the two. Causing static to grow loud in sound in Yeosangs earbud that was currently hidden behind his long black hair.

Two weeks ago you had finally approached Yeosang, if you had waited any longer for him to approach you, you would’ve died single and alone. After getting the constant reassurance from Wooyoung, you decided to bite the bullet and ask Yeosang out.

“Are you sure he likes me..? Wooyoung I don’t know…”

“Quit being a chicken, look at him, he’s nuts about you!”

There sat Yeosang who was looking at you, straight faced. Not a smile, a smirk, a frown, nothing. Your eyes moved to his, sending him a brief smile. You think he would’ve looked away, or maybe sent you a small smile, but no. He continued to look dead at you. Wooyoung and Yeosang had been bestfriends for over eight years now. It should’ve come easily to you to trust Woo when it came to Yeosang but at times Wooyoung was very dramatic and very much a send off.

“That is a look of love.” Wooyoung spoke loudly in your ear before giving you a slight shove Yeosangs way.

Stumbling slightly over your own feet you venture forward, ready to ask Yeosang out, it’s not like you had a crush on him since you met him…well, maybe, just slightly. You were pretty sure your heart was going to beat out of your chest, your hands were sweating, and it didn’t help Yeosang had his eyes locked on you.

As you made your way over to where Yeosang was you tried your best to look confident. Palms were drenched in sweat, goosebumps littered your spine. Your body was sending a billion red flags, yet when it came to Yeosang everything red looked fuchsia. Standing right by his table side you decide you are going to go with a more straightforward approach. You had been around Yeosang so long you knew his habits, what time he ate, you even knew how he liked to fold his socks, you also knew the poor man was dense as hell. You had to tell him out right because he could never pick up on the obvious hints you had dropped.

You stopped just a couple feet before Yeosang, biting your lip slightly. Looking over your shoulder, you see Wooyoung giving you a thumbs up, and San? When did San join in on this? Turning your attention back to Yeosang.

“H-Hey Yeosang!”

He dead panned at you, offering you a small smile, letting you know he was acknowledging your presence. Taking a deep breath in, chanting in your mind that you got this! Just be straight forward!

“How are you tod-.” Yeosang was cut off quickly before he would even finish his sentence.

“They opened up a new Italian restaurant up the street, Saturday, 5:30pm, you and me. Be there or be square.”

Nodding your head you turn on your heel and walk away briskly, avoiding the area in which Wooyoung and San are standing. Not wanting to hear if the man was going to reject or accept your offer. As you got closer to your exit you were internally smacking yourself. Who the hell says “be there or be square”!? Groaning, you realized you didn’t even ask Yeosang for his number! Rubbing your temples you hoped that Yeosang would show up, Wooyoung has told you numerous times to “put yourself out there” and this was you doing such.

Wooyoung and San quickly flocked to Yeosang. Wooyoung couldn’t hide the grin he had on his face, coming up and poking Yeosangs side.

“I saw Y/n talking to you. How did that go?”

Yeosang lightly smacked Wooyoungs hands away, clearing his throat slightly, still taken back by your offer of a date.

“She wants…but I have to…or I’m a square….” Yeosang had quietly whispered to himself.

“What about a square? Did she call you a square!? Well she’s a fucking circle!” San spoke loudly, grabbing Yeosangs shirt and pulling him to his chest.

Were Sans' actions supposed to be comforting? In his eyes, yes. Was it actually comforting? No. Lightly grabbing the back of his head to coddle him like a baby, Wooyoung rolls his eyes.

“What did she say Yeosang?!”

Yeosang had attempted to speak but was muffled by Sans overly grown shoulders muffling his mouth.

“Forget what that mean woman said Yeosangie, I’m here. She’s such a fucking circle, calling my Sangie a square.” San spoke through a pout.

Fed up, Wooyoung splits Yeosang away from San, giving him a stern look.

“San you are an octagon, now for the last time ...WHAT DID SHE SAY?!”

“She said 5:30pm, the new Italian restaurant, be there or be square.”

Muttering quietly to himself “If I’m an octagon, that means you are a triangle you idiot.”

Wooyoung bit his lip trying to hold in his laughter, turning away from his two friends so all they saw was his back slightly shaking. Giving them the impression that he was crying when in reality he was trying not to drop to the floor and roll around with laughter. Bringing his fingers up to his temple trying to figure out what kinda “smooth talk” was that?! “Be there or be square” who even says that anymore?!

San brings his hand up to Wooyoungs shoulder.

“I know…I know…I can barely stand it, the thought of Yeosang going out on his very own first date…it has me shaken too. I knew this day would come…just not so soon.”

San spoke in a descending tone, he was shocked that someone had approached Yeosang and asked him out, Yeosang had yet to be in a relationship, 24 years alive and they have never seen the man date anyone. Making San turn into momma bear mode.

“Are you going to go on the date?”

Woo asked after finally settling down from laughter, turning around now to face both of his friends.

“Yea…Yea I am!”

He was hesitant at first, but with a couple more seconds of thought he gained some confidence! He was going to go on this date! He was going to go and have a good time! His internal pep talk was now reaching the surface of him. Making Wooyoung hype him up.

“Whose going on this date?”

“I am!”

“Who’s going to have a great time?”

“I am! I'm going to go, I’m going to have a good time! Im…I’m going to kiss her!”

Sans eyes grew big, hardly believing this was the Kang Yeosang that once brushed a girls hand and immediately flew to get some hand sanitizer because all the way til his senior year of highschool he was convinced girls have cooties.

“Kiss her..?”

San said quietly trailing off at the end of his sentence.

“Yea San! I'm going to kiss her! Then…then I’m going to marry her! Then I’m going to mow the grass at our house, because we are going to live together! Then I’m going to make sure me and her get matching drones to fly all over the city! ”

Wooyoung let out a loud cackle, bringing his hands up to the now cheesing Yeosang who was making small punching movements to the air out of excitement while San looked like he was having an internal crisis.

“Calm down there champ…let’s just work on the first date first. Yea? Wooyoung giggled out.

“Wait…Yeosang what happened to our “if we aren’t married by 40 we will marry each other” pact?”

Wooyoung smacked his lips, shoving San slightly to the exit door.

“You snooze, you lose San, now move it, his date is tomorrow and we need to prepare him.”

Yeosang fiddled with his long sleeve button up, clearly nervous. Looking at the entry door for any sign you were going to show up. His stomach has butterflies, butterflies mixed with antsy wasps at the same time.

“Yeosang?! Yeosang can you hear us?!” Wooyoung spoke loudly. He didn’t trust Yeosang to fully go on this date by himself so he styled Yeosangs hair in a way that it would cover the earbud sitting in his ear while Wooyoung and San were sitting in the car right outside of the restaurant, phone on speaker ready to coach Yeosang on how to be a ladies man. Yeosang fiddled with the phone in his pocket making sure the screen was facing his thigh so you wouldn’t notice the bright screen and see he was on a call with Wooyoung.

“Testing one, two, three, one, two, three, let’s go!” Wooyoung yelled, trying to snap Yeosang out of his thoughts.

“Don’t yell at him! He’s nervous!” San yelled at Wooyoung, smacking him on the arm.

“If he responded I wouldn’t have to yell!” Wooyoung yelled back at San, hitting him on the knee.

“Guys…Can you stop yelling please, it's hurting my ear…”

Yeosang spoke quietly, not wanting to cause any attention to him, no one could see the earbud in his ear so it truly looked like he was talking to himself.

“Sorry about that Sangie.” San says in an apologetic tone. Smacking Wooyoung one more time before turning his attention on the phone.

“How are you feeling? If you don’t want to do this you can always come to the car and I’ll get you some ice cream on the way home.” San was trying his best to comfort Yeosang, he wanted to rip the door off the car and fly into the restaurant and hold him.

“Stop babying him, he needs this push. He needs to have a love life. Stop coddling him.” Wooyoungs tone was laced with annoyance.

“The only one that’s going to get pushed around here is you! I’m going to push you right out of the car!”

“He’s not a baby anymore! Let the man breathe!”

“I’m going to make sure you aren’t breathing in a second Woo!

“Oh really?!”

“Yea! Really!”

“Guys…she’s here! What should I do?!” Yeosang spoke in a rushed tone.

“Stand up and greet her!” San spoke quickly, shoving Wooyoungs head back and grabbing the phone.

Yeosang quickly shot up hands brushing down his shirt trying to smooth out any wrinkles.

“No, sit down! She should come to you, make her work for it!” Wooyoung replied with disappointment in his tone.

Yeosang made a move to sit back down but Sans voice quickly spoke.

“No, be a gentleman and greet her! Stay standing!”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes at San, snatching the phone back.

As you approached the table, there was Yeosang in all his glory, you swore you saw a twinkle in his eyes everytime he looked at you. You could tell he was slightly nervous, his hands were shaking slightly and he kept smoothing his perfect, wrinkle free shirt down. You walked up to him just as nervous, a huge smile painted your face.

“Hey Yeosang, I’m glad you came!”

San and Wooyoung giggle slightly. Yeosang stood there wide eyed and in shock. You actually showed up, this was an actual date. A small smile graced his face.

“Thank you for inviting me. Shall we sit down?”

Biting a smile back you nod, pulling your chair out.

“Push her chair in!” San quickly spoke.

“You are such a simp…” Wooyoung whispered to San

“Manners maketh man, you small dummy.” San replied, flicking Wooyoungs ear.

Moving quickly, Yeosang pushed you in, making sure there was enough room between you and the table. He was giddy, walking back to his side of the table he sat down, hands gripping his knees. Was this the part where you guys were supposed to kiss, then work on the wedding invitations?

“Give her a compliment.” San had said with a smile on his face, the look Yeosang was giving you, truly was making him happy. He was looking at you the same way San looked at his memory foam mattress after a long day.

“Yea tell her she looks and smells delicious!”

Wooyoung chimed in.

Yeosang cleared his throat..”You look like you swim with fishes.”

Taken back by him speaking up, you slightly put down the menu, giving your attention to Yeosang.

Grabbing his collar slightly, the air was heavy to him, the nerves now were eating him up.

“I said…You look like you swim with fishes.”

“No, delicious!” Wooyoung shouted, while facepalming internally.

“I mean dishes!”

Your eyes go slightly wide, trying to hold back a laugh, you smile at him.

“Swimming with fishes huh? Trying to say I’m a mermaid?”

“Tell her she could be your Ariel!” Wooyoung shouts

“Have you ever been to a burial?” Yeosang says, like he’s on autopilot.

“I’ve been to a couple, things like that always make me uneasy.” You say with a small smile, eyes going back to the menu once again.

“I didn’t say that! Where the hell did you get a burial from Ariel?!” Wooyoung scream whispers.

Snatching the phone out of Woos grasp, San takes over.

“Compliment her outfit. Loosen up Yeosang, I’m sure she won't bite.”

Swallowing loudly, Yeosang takes a drink of his water.

“Your clothes look like they are made out of a good material.”

Looking down you run your fingers over the clothing you wore.

“Why thank you! I got them on sale! I love a good bargain.”

“Tell her you love a good deal too.”

“I love a good seal.”

“Deal! Deal!” San says in a hurry.

“Seal, seal!” Yeosang blurts out.

“I like seals too! I once saw one at the circus balance a ball on its nose. It was quite fascinating.”

Wooyoung wants to choke Yeosang out through the phone. He’s never seen someone fumble like this.

“Yeosang you have zero rizz!” Wooyoung yells, snatching the phone back from San.

“More rizz than you.” San says while thumping Woo on the shoulder.

Rolling his eyes, Wooyoung turns his attention back to you and Yeosang.

“Ask her if anything looks good to her on the menu.”

“Yea! Ask her if she has a favorite meal!”

“Do you have a favorite wheel?”

“MEAL!” Wooyoung yells, getting so frustrated at Yeosangs screw ups, he passes the phone to San, rubbing his temple. Frustration was clear on his face.

“A meal Yeosangie, meal.”

“Oh meal! Do you have a favorite meal!” Yeosang says with a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Honestly I’m pretty versatile I like to think! As long as it’s seasoned and tasty, I’ll give it a try!” You say with a smile beaming on your face.

“Do you have a favorite meal?” You ask back.

“My favorite meal?”

“Yea! Do you have one?”

“Tell her your favorite meal is her.”

“My favorite meal is purr.”

“Purr..? Like a cat?”

“Her! Her! Tell her it’s her!” Wooyoung said with a whine in his tone. His frustration was on level 1000 right now,

“Burr burr!”

“Are you cold? I think I have a jacket in my car, I can grab it if you want.” You push your seat back slightly, ready to stand up.

“No!”

Both Yeosang, Wooyoung and San shout.

“I mean…My favorite meal is chicken…anything with chicken.” Yeosang rushes out.

“Yeo…is everything okay tonight..? Do you not want to be on this date?”

“Play hard to get!”

“No!”

“No…You don’t want to be on this date..?”

“No! I do! I do want to be on it!” Yeosang quickly rushes out.

“I’m just…I’m nervous. Wooyoung and San aren’t helping either.”

“I know they aren’t helping. You should’ve chosen better wing men.”

San and Wooyoung gasp, putting a hand on their chest like their hearts broke into two.

“How did you…?…”

“Well first starters they parked right outside of where our table is.” You look towards the glass, and stare at Wooyoung and San, who are clearly far from hiding themselves.

Letting out a small smile, Wooyoung waves to you. San just looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

“Secondly, I heard them speaking when I was walking into the restaurant, they have their windows down and they aren’t the quietest people to walk this earth.”

“Did she just call us loud?” San says defensively.

“I think she did!” Wooyoung shouts.

“Oh…well that makes sense. I understand if you don’t want to continue the date…” Yeosang says lowly, his hands now gripping his knees.

“I want to go on a date with you, and you only. No other parties included.”

“You mean..”

“Yes, I like you a lot Yeosang, I was hoping…you kind of liked me too..?..” you say while playing with the napkins on the table.

He smiles brightly at you, his body does a noticeable shiver of excitement.

“I like you too. A lot, a lot, a lot. Maybe we should get married and just skip dinner right now!” He says with a huge smile plastered on his face. Maybe he didn’t need Wooyoung and Sans help after all.

San and Wooyoung let out a frustrated groan, they had a lot to teach Yeosang about relationships.

“Or if you want we can kiss and start working on our wedding invitations!”

“No!” Both San and Wooyoung shout.

A huge smile sketches across your face. This was going to be such a fun date.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Guess who is back babbbbbyyyyyy?! Little ol’ stressy, depressy me😁! How have y’all been? It’s been so long, too long. I’m going to be more active now, I’m going to make sure I don’t disappear like that ever again. Any ways…how we feeling about this? I always love feedback, WooSan would make such a chaotic set of wingmen. Besides that…what did y’all think of their comeback?! Let me tell y’all Seonghwa?! BIAS WRECKING MEEEE! Yeosang and his vocals?!? I swear they make me want to chew on the sidewalk.

DO NOT REPOST.

#ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez yeosang #Ateez au #yeosang x reader #ateez atiny #ateez san #ateez wooyoung #ateez fluff #ateez humor #ateez crack

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vermont-writes-fanfic · 7 months ago

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Getting Hurt While Protecting Them

Prompt: How do the Detriot Become Human characters react to you getting hurt while trying to protect them

Request: No

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, Mentions of abuse (Alice & Todd), mentions of blood, injury,

Characters: Kara, Marcus, Connor, Hank

A/N: This is something I had sitting in my writing binder for a little while and I thought I'd just go ahead and shore it here lol, if you come across it than please enjoy and leave feedback! The Deviant version will be next in line!

Kara

It was during a visit to your brother Tod's house, you were their to drop off some money. You knew he was addicted to the new drug on the market, Red Ice, so you had offered to help him pay his bills and hand him some money to take care of Alice in hopes that he would get back on his feet. As you were getting out of the car you heard a scream and rushed in to see a frightened Alice hiding behind Kara, a high Tod in front of them with a look that you weren't to happy about. He raised his hand to swing and before he even layed a finger on her you were in front of Kara taking the blow. You could almost hear the wind displaced by his handd as it swung down on your cheek,hard. As the sting of the slap subsides and the warmth of blood pooling to the surface of the area begins the taste of metal hits your tongue and you spit it out into a stray napkin giving your brother a vicious glare. As you turned and made sure Alice was okay, Kara examined you. As you turned to her to ask if she was okay she nodded, perplexed almost. You couldn't help but notice her LED flickering as she looked at you.

Marcus

You were a friend of Karl's, and made it a point to frequently visit him. Always kind, the type one would expect Karl to hang around, you encouraged Marcus to act freely and of his own accord rather than the order of others. One night, Leo - Karl's son- came around asking for some money. You offered it but on the orders of Karl, Marcus prevented you from funding any of the activities Leo got up to. Already not a fan of the android, Leo ignored him and took to trying to guilt trip his father instead while advancing closer to him. Marcus stepped between the two of them causing Leo to pause in his steady advancements towards his father. Leo, aggravated by the androids interferance, shoved Marcus out of the way but Marcus wouldn't have it. Before Marcus could even caculate the outcomes Leo to a step sending a large part of his body into a rage withdrawal induced punch. You, at the last few moments stepped between them takin the blow instead. Quickly realizing his mistake, Leo turned tail and rushed out of the area down the stairs and out the door while Marcus checked Karl's vitals.

"Why did you do that?" He questions once he is satisfied with what he had examined.

"I coulnd't very well just let the prick hurt you now could I?"

"Hm..." He doesn't respond, as if he is registering something.

Connor

Chasing Deviants was always a work out, it was better than the situation at hand though. A Deviant andriod had a knife held to Hank's throat while his 'friend' was running at Connor. You knew you needed Connor so when you realized what the deviant was going for, Connor's Thirium pump, you dove right in front of the attack. The hand sunk into your flesh leaving you out of breath right before its hand dug deeper into your skin and tore a sizable chunk from your stomach leaving you in pain. With the deviant distracted however, Connor was able to pin it down to thee ground and hand cuff it with the spares Hank had given him. At some point, to cope with pain, you had sat down and Connor came over to you and helped you up helping you head to the EMTs, the entire time his face looked off.

"Why are you looking at me like that Connor?"

"You are hurt, that deviant was not going to hurt you. "

"It was going for where your thorium pump is, we needed you functioning fully."

"I have several minutes before I cease to function without my Thirium pump, you did not need to interact in a way that was detrimental to your health."

"Instinct Connor, it was instinct to help us all okay? Just take it as face value, I sacrificed a chunk of my body to catch some Deviants and keep you safe."

"Besides, isn't that kind of trauma the thing that causes deviancy in androids?"

"I have no signs of deviancy."

"Sometimes I wish you did..."

Hank

You and Hank had partners for years and with Connor, injuries to humans such as yourself are more than prone to happening. He just came home from Jimmy's Bar, heavily drunk, when he was called to ,and entered, the crime scene. A deviant suspect snapped and engaged in a fist fight with it's owner before fleeing into the basement where it was now cornerd by you, Hank, and Connor. To save Hank from a long winded speech and the rest of the office from Hank and Fowlers less than civil disagreements, you stepped in front of Hank getting between him and the deviant. It took every chance and engaged in a fightt with you forcing you to take several blows before you could pin it down with the help of Connor. Seeing you bruised and bloodied was enough to sober him up, and the moment you three were back in the car he sent a long drawn out lecture about just how stupid your descision was.

"Do you have any idea how fucken stupid that was? What if that thing beat ya to death?"

"How about a thank you for saving your drunk ass from a deviant and Fowler?"

A beat of silence is followed by a sharp fatherly glare as you smirk and speak again.

"No? You just gonna ignore that?"

Hope you liked it! Feel free to request stuff!

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latenight-dnd · 2 years ago

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The sign out front says this is a dnd blog, but I’m making French onion soup and have been thinking about this the whole time so

*THESE ARE ALL MY HEADCANNON. YOU CAN DISAGREE BUT DONT BE A DICK.*

BatFam and things you couldn’t waterboard out of them

Damian: he likes girlie pop revenge music. He won’t seek it out on purpose for his own dignity, but if “good 4 u” or “look what you made me do” is playing, he is enjoying it on the inside. He would rather eat the batmobile than let anybody know. There isn’t a single person he could tell that wouldn’t be insufferable.

Jason: cannot watch Fox and the Hound without sobbing VIOLENTLY. It’s ugly. Definitely has nothing to do with the fox being named Tod. Definitely.

Tim: admitting he should sleep. Literally would rather eat dirt. No, he doesn’t need sleep. Pass the coffee. Also, wrote Batman adoption fan fiction, very Adopted by One Direction. But less creepy.

Dick: frequently got super cold in the Robin costume, very often regretted the shorts. He will never admit it to anyone. He refuses to admit that maybe the tiny shorts weren’t the best choice. Was very relieved when Tim gave himself tights.

Bruce: he can’t tie a tie. Batman does not know how to tie a tie. He’s tried learning, but he just can’t. Doesn’t know why. Alfred still has to help him, and he has a bunch of clip ons. If any of the media or his rich buddies notice, it’s cus he’s Dumb Brucie who can’t tie a tie. If any of his children or superhero partners notice, it’s so he can change into and out of his Batman costume quicker if he had to leave a function. A full tie is just such a hassle, ya know? Alfred is the only one who knows the truth.

Steph: somehow caught Damian listening to girlie pop revenge music without him realizing. She can never tell anybody. He’ll find out it was her. He will kill her and nobody’s will ever find her body. Anything you could do to her to try and get her to tell, he will do worse.

Cass: she’s seen some shit around the manor. Being as quiet as she is has consequences, and those consequences are seeing and hearing things you did not wanna know about. Very little of it can even be written out. She’s taking that shit to the grave.

You also just couldn’t waterboard jack shit out of her anyway, she’s impenetrable.

Duke: similar to Cass, he’s seen some shit. You don’t wanna know. Also, he likes to eat just plain Mayo on bread. He can’t tell anyone out of pure shame. He would be clowned to heights unseen.

Barbara: knows that sometimes her dad turns on the bat signal just to see what Bruce drops off. He just does it out of curiosity, he has no actual criminal for Batman to target, he just wants to see who gets dropped off with a fresh concussion. Also, sometimes she remotely changes Bruce’s ridiculously complicated passwords just slightly to confuse him. Not enough to be super obvious someone changed it on purpose, but enough for Bruce to start to think that maybe he’s getting a little up in age.

Alfred: as if he would ever allow himself to be put in a position where he could even be captured, much less waterboarded.

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hunting-songs · 8 months ago

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Tagged By: A little bird! Tagging: @skarletchains @bewitchingbaker @gyofukuki @uzumakiuser @jxgi @thaneirstaer @rake-rake @distortedkilling @swxpped @muddsludge @curseisms @zealctry @saiakv @huntcrpcdia ...and YOU!

Repost don’t Reblog!!

HOW TO: USING ONLY SONGS FROM ONE ARTIST, CLEVERLY ANSWER THESE NINE QUESTIONS AND THEN TAG 10 PEOPLE.

WHATS YOUR GENDER. "Henkersbraut" By Subway to Sally Kein Myrtenkranz im schwarzen Haar Kein Schleier und kein Traualtar Kein Priester für das Ritual Der Brautigam verfemt und kahl Er nennt sie leis sein kleines Weib Und mustert ihren dürren Leib Die Gasteschar im Lumpenkleid Drängt sich um sie und lacht und schreit No Flowers in her hair No veil and no weddingaltar No father for the ritual The groom is a stranger and calvous He calls her quiet (soft); his (sweet) little wife and eyes her sick body The guests in rags dance around her and laugh and scream.

DESCRIBE YOURSELF. "Wechselbalg" By ASP Das Innerste geäußert Und aufs Äußerste verinnerlicht Ein Wechselbalg Die Welt getauscht The innermost exposed and to the utmost internalized A changeling Switched the world

HOW DO YOU FEEL? "Spiel des Lebens" By Ignis Fatuui. Ein Spiel, das jeder von uns kennt, bei dem es keine Regeln gibt. Ein jeder ist hier Spielfigur und jede Runde endet nur mit einem Ziel, es ist kein Sieg. Weil jeder von uns fliegt. Es geht um Leben oder Tod, (Wo-o-o-o) bei diesem Spiel, das "unser Leben" heißt. Auf uns wartet nur der Tod. (Wo-o-o-o) Nimm diesen Tanz, als wenn es dein letzter wär.

A game everybody of us knows, without rules Everybody is the token here and every round just ends- With a finish. It's never a victory, because everyone of us drops out of the game It's about life or death (Wo-o-o-o) In this game that's called our life Only death is waiting for us (Wo-o-o-o) So take this dance as if it is your last one.

IF YOU COULD GO ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD YOU GO? "Wieder unterwegs" By Saltatio Mortis. Wir ziehen weiter, immer weiter Bis der Mond die Sonne verführt Bis der Himmel die Erde berührt Immer weiter, immer weiter Bis der Mond die Sonne verführt Zu dem Orte wo der Himmel die Erde berührt Mein Ohr vernimmt Mir unbekannte Sprachen Ergibt sich schnell Der fremden Melodie Ich singe laut Noch nie gesung'ne Lieder Im Schein des Feuers Und vergesse nie

We move on, further and further Until the moon seduces the sun Until where the sky Touches the earth On and on, on and on Until the moon seduces the sun To that place Where the sky touches the earth My ear hears Languages unknown to me Surrenders quickly to The foreign melody I sing loudly Songs never sung before In the light of the fire And never forget

DESCRIBE YOUR FAMILY. "Julia und die Räuber" By Subway to Sally. Blut, Blut Räuber saufen Blut Raub und Mord und Überfall sind gut Hoch vom Galgen klingt es, Hoch vom Galgen klingt es, Raub und Mord und Überfall sind gut Blood, blood, bandits drink blood Robbery and murder and ambushing are good High from the gallows it rings High from the gallows it rings Robbery and murder and ambushing are good

YOUR BEST FRIEND. "Orpheus" By Saltatio Mortis Sing für mich, Orpheus Wir hatten Kein Glück Du wandelst ins Leben Doch ich bleib' Zurück Und wenn deine Stimme Nie mehr für mich singt Werd' ich erfahr'n wie laut Stille klingt Sing for me, Orpheus We had no luck. You walk back into life. But I stay back here (with the dead) And when your voice Never sings for me again I will finally know how loud silence sounds. YOUR HOBBY. "Tanz auf dem Vulkan" By Subway to Sally. Du musst tanzen, in der Asche bis zum allerletzten Tanz, tanze Krater in den Boden und zertanz die Schuhe ganz! Tanze, tanze über Tiefen, denn wer tanzen kann der lebt, und du spürst die Erde, wie sie wogt und bebt. Dreh dich ewiglich, tanz und dreh dich, spring und dreh dich, beim wilden Tanz auf dem Vulkan. You must dance in the ashes until the very last dance Dance craters into the ground and completely wear out your shoes by dancing. Dance, dance over depths for who can dance, lives And you feel the earth how it undulates and shakes. Turn eternally, Dance and turn, Jump and turn as you wildly Dance on the vulcan (Speak: dance with the devil= live dangerously and on the edge)

FAVOURITE TIME OF THE DAY? "Krötenliebe" By Subway to Sally. Als wir im Tümpel lagen, Im fauligen Morast, Brach über uns die Nacht herein. Dunkle Gestalten krochen Auf unser Lager zu Und stimmten in das Lied der Liebe ein. As we lay by the pond together, in the rotting morass, Night broke down upon us. Dark figures crawled towards our bed, and joined us in our lovesong.

DESCRIBE YOUR LIFE. "Tod und Teufel" By Saltatio Mortis. An einem trüben Winterabend Kroch die Kälte in mein Haus Umfasste mich mit klammen Fingern Und zog mich in den Schnee hinaus Vor meinem Haus standen zwei Reiter Die Mäntel waren schwarz und rot In rot gekleidet ritt der Teufel Ganz in schwarz Gevatter Tod Die Sonne floh hinter die Berge Da fing der Tod zu reden an: "Dein Leben geht zur Neige Sag mir hast du's recht getan?" Der Teufel sprang von seinem Rappen In seiner Hand ein Pergament Dann trug er vor, ich sei ein Spielmann Sei ein sündhaft Element In diesem Spiel gibts kein zurück In deiner Uhr verrinnt der Sand Nimm deine Würfel in die Hand Nimm deine Würfel in die Hand Doch nach alter Spielmannssitte Ist es Recht und ist es Brauch Zu würfeln um sein Lasterleben Verwetten seinen Lebenshauch Der Teufel wirft die erste Runde Dreimal sechs wie's ihm gebührt Ich werfe bleich die Knochenwürfel Als mich des Todes Hand berührt Die Würfel harren auf der Kante Gehalten von des Todes Blick Er lächelt in des Teufels Fratze Und spricht: "Das war ein übler Trick" Da mich der Teufel wollt betrügen Bekomme ich noch etwas Zeit Den Tod zu täuschen ist ein Frevel Denn Tod heißt auch Gerechtigkeit Das Leben is ein Würfelspiel Und deine Seele ist das Pfand Die Regeln kennen brauchst du nicht Nimm deine Würfel in die Hand Nimm deine Würfel in die Hand

On a dim winter evening Coldness crept into my house Grasped me with clammy fingers And dragged me out into the snow In front of my house two riders where standing The coats where black and red Dressed in red was the devil Completely in black godfather death The sun fled to hide behind the mountains Then death started talking: "Your life is running short Tell me, have you done it right" Devil jumped off of his black horse Holding a pergament in his hand He declaimed I'd be a minstrel (I'd) be a sinful beeing But following the old custom of mistrels It's law and it's convention To gamble for ones life of vice (And to) bet ones breath of life Devil throws the first round Three times six like it's due to him Pale I'm throwing the bony dices As death's hand touches me Helt by the gaze of death He smiles into the grim mien of the devil And says: "That was a foul trick" Because the devil wanted to fool me I get a bit more time To cheat death is a sacrilege Since death also means justice Life is a game of dice And your soul is the pledge You don't need to know the rules Grab your dices with your hand RELATIONSHIP STATUS. "Spielmannsschwur" By Saltatio Mortis. Der Strick, der uns bindet, Ist noch nicht geflochten, Der Knecht, der uns mordet, Hat noch nicht gefochten. Die Frau, die uns hält, Ist noch nicht geborn, Das haben alle Spielleut' geschworn. Wir sind wie der Wind, Man sperrt uns nicht ein, Kein Knast kann uns halten, Drum schenkt nochmal ein, Wir sind geboren, um Spielmann zu sein. The Noose that will hang us, had yet not been braided, The servant that will murder us had yet not fought (with a sword). The woman that wil hold us (in her arms) is yet not born, Thats what every bard had sworn. We are like the wind, you can not catch us, No prison can hold us in, so fill our cups up again, we are born to be minstrels.

#you know what? German medieval metal upon ya!#because the time I read hxh for the first time was when I was headbanging to those bands #I mean I STILL do #Saltatio Mortis AINT RAISED A QUITTER #'desribe your family' uhhhhhhh.....theres a reason why senritsu WOULD NOT DO THAT.#also over a decade old Krötenliebe is still such a banger #for a song thats just about outdoor sex #....which...I mean I am old and thats my back speaking but looking at those lyrics realistically having a quickie in cold mud is not sexy #at all #I AM NOT KINKSHAMING THE SONGWRITERS BUT THAT STILL SOUNDS VERY UNCOMFORTABLE #hunting songs: headcanon #hunting-songs

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ajstudio · 2 years ago

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My Homework on Vampires and Ghouls

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Corrections for Mercy’s Background Story: Vampirazation

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Date: January 24, 2023

By: ArtsyJandi (I own ajstudio)

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(I spent days studying and writing this lengthy page document of 2,912 words and I’m sharing it to show my work and so everyone can use for their writing. Enjoy!)

(I have corrected the dates for Mina and Lucy. And I corrected the number of years Alucard had served Hellsing before his disappearance. I intend update his section since I neglected to go over the changes his body went through over the years of his time as a vampire.)

The nightmare Mercy and the girls lived through ends at 10 pm sharp. Studying Dracula and Hellsing for important details has helped me learn more about vampires and ghouls. The most crucial detail is the time it takes for a human to become a vampire or ghoul. First I would like to include Mercy’s original tragic story (originally she was called Rosebud but that is now one of her nicknames) :

“Here’s what Integra’s learned about the Omega girl by the time Alucard got back. Let’s call her Rosebud.

In the year 2022 - 2023, Integra recruits Rosebud after doing a case with her assigned by Queen Elizabeth II and appoints her under Seras as her subordinate like when she was turned by Alucard.

From what Integra learned of her background the first time she met Rosebud: she was born and raised in Louisiana, but she was shot six times in Virginia after being bitten by a vampire when the survivors of the attack feared she’d turn into one. Everyone involved originally didn’t believe in vampires, but not after that night.

This horror happened on November 5, 2021, at a bachelorette party, and when the vampire tried to attack Tasha the bride (who was also ten weeks pregnant with her fiancée’s baby), Rosebud pushed her out of the way to take a stab at the vampire with a silver letter opener. The vampire bit Rosebud, then she stabbed his left eye, cut his throat, and finally staked his heart. Three of the guests that were turned into ghouls just drop dead, but everyone was scared for Rosebud. Tasha’s fiancee, Todd, got wind of what was happening and rushed over only to make it to the aftermath. He takes it upon himself to end Rosebud with a resolver. While thankful for her selfless bravery, Todd remorsefully has to end her life before she turns. After much urging and pleading from Rosebud, "I don’t know how different I’ll be when this change is complete. Please. Save the next person that comes after me.”, he empties his resolver of its six bullets.

Unfortunately, Tod didn’t know that Rosebud was not at risk of becoming a vampire because the attacker was already dead. He learned this from the man that warned him of the attack. He told Todd and Tasha he was a doctor, and he could save her with surgery, but he has to do it before the tissue begins to decay. Todd and Tasha agreed to let him save Rosebud since they didn’t want her to die. The doctor, Oliver White, rushes to his lab with Rosebud’s body and begins to replace her organs with new ones from another body.

Four hours later, the surgery is a success. While Dr. White went to wash up after the surgery and make a bracelet out of the bullets that shot Rosebud, another vampire slipped into the lab and started to drink Rosebud’s blood. While Dr. White managed to make it back in time before the vampire did something worse, he found Rosebud had lost too much blood. Dr. White brought her back to Todd and Tasha and instructed them to keep Rosebud hidden in the basement until he got back. The party had taken place at Tasha’s maternal grandmother’s house which was located on a farm. They were also instructed to lay Rosebud near the patch of garlic blossoms close to the ditch as they arranged the basement for her. Before Dr. White returned to his lab to do away with the vampire, he leaves the bracelet he made with Rosebud.

Seven hours after she had been shot Rosebud finally woke up on November 6th that morning before dawn, but she was thirsty for blood. The first person she meets is a crying Tasha, but she feeds on herself because Rosebud didn’t want to reverse her good deed. Rosebud helps the couple move her belongings into the basement and hide her car as they wait for Dr. White, but he never came back. Rosebud waited for him until 8 pm before she, Tasha, and Todd packed her belongings into her car, along with some bottles of pig’s blood, and drove off back home while it was still night since they didn’t know she’d be fine in the sunlight.“

Since I have made some changes to Mercy’s story, which has been a slow progress, I would consider this passage from what I could call the rough draft of her story. As I read the Hellsing volumes, relistened to the Dracula audiobook while looking over the original novel, and rewatched some of the episodes of the anime and OVA for any details I missed and recalled to overview. Consider this a thesis on what I’ve learned.

—–

Ghouls

—–

When Dr. Avondale, or the Doktor, was working on the artificial vampires he noted that the test subjects regenerated 17% faster but became ghouls approximately four hours afterward. While he and the S.S. Major Max Montana wanted the transformation process of the ghouls to be quicker. I can deduce that four hours is the natural time it takes for humans to become ghouls.

Another example I can bring up would be in, "Order 03: Murder Club” when Sir Integra Hellsing investigated the aftermath of the Ghoul Lover Duo. After she was informed that the attack had happened a few hours ago. She then ordered the corpses to be disposed of quickly since they would be changed if not dealt with properly. Now while the vampires responsible for the attack were made by Millinuim and not by natural means, Sir Hellsing didn’t know that yet but it still reinforces my estimation of the transformation process.

This makes the realization of Seras’ situation with the Cheddar Priest all the more horrifying. She was by herself for four hours at least before Alucard got there. What took you so long? Moongazing isn’t an excuse! But that would be another reason why Alucard has so much respect for Seras. After her comrades became ghouls and Cheddar quite literally became a Ghouleville Seras was likely the person to request backup before her source of communication was cut off. Looking at the first chapter again the chief explained, and corrected me, that the unit Seras was a part of lost contact with the party stationed outside of Cheddar three hours before Sir Integra and Alucard arrived.

And there we have it: three hours. This concludes that Dr. Avondale’s experiments only slowed the transformation time by one hour. Man.

But onto the Ghouls of Millennium. Judging by the attack on Hellsing Headquarters and London I believe these monstrous Nazi Vampires can spawn ghouls within minutes of biting their human prey and draining their blood. Maybe four or forty minutes tops. Or under twenty minutes taking into account that Jan and his unit of eighteen ghouls taking two lunch breaks eating fractions of the 86 soldiers stationed at Hellsing HQ making it to the 5th/4th floor* where Sir Integra and the Knights of the Round Table held their conference. Luke sliced the ones he encountered without making any ghouls.

—–

Vampires

—–

Now on to the vampires. Here I will discuss the four subjects in their sections respectfully. They are Lucy Westenra, Mina Harker nee Murray, Seras Victoria, and finally, Count Dracula himself, also known as Alucard.

Lucy Westenra (1876 - Sep. 20, 1887)

She catches the attention of Dracula when he came to Whitby, England on August 11th, 1889 when she was sleepwalking again making Mina go after her. This condition of hers is possibly how Dracula came to target Lucy and then Mina. He stealthily followed them back to Lucy’s home and following the night after that he drank her blood as she slept. Despite the best efforts of Abraham Van Hellsing, Quincey Morris, Dr. John Seward, and Arthur Holmwood/Lord Godalming to save Lucy Dracula drained her blood until she died on Sep. 20, 1889, at the 18th hour (but Abraham Van Hellsing wrote to Mina that she died with her mother five days before the 22nd and buried the day before. I guess he knew her death was inevitable on the morning of the 18th.) Two to three days later, she’s drinking the blood of children as a new vampire. Eventually, her actions made the paper by Sep. 25th. The very men that tried to save her had to put a stake through her heart and behead her.

Her innocent beauty, blonde hair, and blue eyes were noted to have changed to a more seductive and voluptuous sort with black tresses, red orbs, and fangs. She regained her original beauty upon having a stake through her heart.

Wilhelmina (Mina) Harker nee Murray (1876 - 19??)

On October 3rd at six in the morning, Jonathan Harker (Mina’s husband) wrote about the events that happened the day and night before. Dracula drinks Mina’s blood and then force-feeds her his blood. Abraham Van Hellsing then prayed over her and pressed a blessed wafer to her forehead to stall the time of her vampirization. The blood Mina was force-fed was supposed to speed up her transformation. But the blessing stalled it for 36 days. Mina was bitten by Dracula on the night of Oct. 2nd and she was human again by the dawn of Nov. 7th. The Power of Christ surpasses the blood of the undead! This makes me wonder how much sooner Mina would’ve turned if Mr. Van Hellsing didn’t stall her transformation. Mina’s appearance didn’t change much since she never made a full transformation but she has fangs upon the moment Walter C. Dornez burns her remains on Sep. 16th, 1999.

But as a lot of people who are reading this post are likely Hellsing fans and Dracula fans are pondering how Mina was still a virgin upon the time Dracula bite her and force-fed her his blood since being a virgin is a requirement for a vampire of the opposite sex (Dracula is a male vampire turning the virgin woman Mina into a vampiress) by Hellsing universe standards and Mina Harker married Jonathan before Lucy had become a vampire.

This confusion is very understandable but let me propose something to consider about the timing of the bite: Jonathan’s mental and physical health. He went to Romania in May to discuss the estates Dracula purchased but the Count had no intention of letting him leave and instead left him at the mercy of the three vampire sisters he shared a home. Jonathan somehow escaped but he was without his belongings and important travel documents since Dracula took them when he left (the jerk) forcing him to travel on foot to the monastery where he would recover and marry Mina after receiving his first letter in four months. With Jonathan barely making out of Dracula’s castle alive he was understandably traumatized. So sex was the last thing on the minds of Jonathan and Mina since his recovery was more important than consummating their marriage.

Then the moment they return to London and meet up with Abraham Van Hellsing’s party they immediately piece together they have a vampire to deal with. Hence we have another reason why Mina was likely still a virgin when Dracula bite her simply for the fact they just had one bigger fish to fry after another before Jonathan could have “it’s good to be alive” sex with his wife. Everyone deals with their trauma differently, and therefore, we shan’t blame Jonathan for waiting until the whole deal with Dracula was over to be intimate with Mina. We know this since their son, Quincey Harker, is born on Nov. 6th the first anniversary of Dracula’s defeat and Quincey Morris’ death. So we know they got happily busy in late January or early February. Oh, if they did the deed on Valentine’s day then that’s a story waiting to be written.

Seras Victoria (1980? - July 5th, 1999)

On the night of July 5th, 1999, Dracula, now Alucard, made Seras Victoria a vampire after dealing with the vampire priest and his ghouls in Cheddar. I don’t know how long Alucard walked from where he started and walked back to where Sir Integra and the police force were stationed on Cheddar Hwy. But by the time Alucard did make it back with Seras she was already a vampire within less than a day instead of two or three.

With the experiments and enhancements done to Alucard for the 111 years going on 112 years he was enslaved to Hellsing it would seem the vampirization of the people he drains of their blood have less than a day to become vampires. My best guess is less than 40 minutes to an hour. This makes the thought of him going rogue dreadful. He could easily make an army of vampires to replace the army of familiars he lost after recovering his physical form in 2030. But it’s a good thing he chooses to make vampires when the person in question has earned their immortality. This makes me love him more for being so responsible with his powers, and it’s also one of the reasons why he made Seras a vampire. Although I wish he gave her the choice before he shot through her to kill the vampire priest.

In the first chapter, Seras’ blonde hair is chin length, her eyes are blue, and her bust is probably a C cup. She retains most of these features for the first two months of her time as a fledgling vampire with the exception being her growing hair and bust. When Seras finally drinks Pip’s blood and takes him as her familiar (something he insisted on since he was dying) her slashed blue eyes are restored with a new shade of red. While Kohta Hirano’s art style was simply evolving as the series progressed and it was even said that he drew Seras with bigger breasts since he was stressed out the vampirization can also explain Seras’ changing body in the series seeing as Lucy Westenra went through the most drastic change compared to everyone on this list.

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Vlad III The Impaler Tepes, Count Dracula, Alucard (November 14th, 1431 - December 14, 1476)

The one who started it all. It would’ve been a great injustice to not include Dracula on the list. I don’t believe I’ll go over all the details of our great Dracula in his lifetime so I will just get straight to his death. Vlad the Voivode of Wallachia was fighting the Ottomans at a river in December of 1476 he was ambushed and captured. Later he was beheaded and his head was then placed in a jar filled with honey to preserve it as it was sent to Constantinople where Sultan Mehmed II was residing.

Historians have no definite idea as to how Vlad's death went down. One such scenario is he was beheaded near a place called the Witch's Pond within the Boldu Forest (when Vlad was killed it was a barren wasteland with a dead tree) outside of present-day Bucharest the capital of Romania. Unlike the other scenarios that will follow, there is no historical proof to verify that Vlad was beheaded here as of yet. Unfortunately, many people and I have made the mistake of thinking otherwise. Which is why I am correcting myself.

The other likely scenarios that I've looked at are:

1. Vlad dies in an ambush with ten of two-hundred soldiers surviving and telling Stephen the Great, Vlad's cousin, of this scenario. This scenario is most likely.

2. Vlad was assassinated by boyars (nobles) he had a meeting with who wanted him to make peace with the Ottomans and continue paying tribute to them. Naturally, he said no. After a heated debate of them demanding he hand over Wallachia to the Ottomans and Vlad being strongly opposed to it, the boyars kill Vlad.

3. Vlad was assassinated by the Ottomans or soldiers of his other enemy, Laiota Basarab, who had the throne of Wallachia before Vlad took it back. I would consider this scenario to be a follow-up of the first and most likely scenario I listed before.

4. Vlad was assassinated by a Turk disguised as a servant.

5. Vlad was killed by his men while disguised as an Ottoman soldier. This is most unlikely because our dear Vlad had tried a stunt like this before when he bravely attempted to assassinate Sulton Mehmed II. That didn't work and he had to escape the camp while the place was in chaos over confusion. This sly devil!

After listing these scenarios, I like to believe it's a bite of both 1# and 3#. Another funny speculation I'd like to share is it's a bite of all of them since Vlad had so many enemies they likely put their plans into action at the same time. It reminds of me an episode of CSI where a guy working at a brothel has been hated by the people who work there they all try to kill him with their methods but he keeps surviving until the chair he sat in breaks and he drowns in the pool he fell in.

But for the sake of this post, let's go with 1# and 3#.

After listing these scenarios, I like to believe it's a bite of both 1# and 3#. According to the flashbacks of Vlad's death he was beheaded in a barren wasteland after he lost to the Ottomans.

As we saw in Alucard’s flashbacks in the Castlevania chapters/orders or the 9th OVA the defeated Voivode lapped up some blood in defiance against God just before he was axed in the neck. His grave is at Snagnov Monastary and was found with only animal bones inside which would imply he was buried somewhere else. But in this universe, Vlad came back as a new vampire and the very first of his kind before he could be buried or after and judging by the familiars he had unleashed on Millennium Dracula woke up with a literal thirst for blood and drank the blood of the corpses of his army, his enemies, and some unfortunate animals.

I thought it made more sense for his reanimation to happen with just his head on the way to Constantinople since he tasted the blood just before he was beheaded. As I have observed before it takes two to three days for a vampire to be made so he would be revived as a new vampire halfway through the five-day journey back to Istanbul, Turkey. But I think he swallowed it in time for the blood to do its work on Vlad’s headless body evidenced by the familiars he summons during the London Raid.

It’s all really scary when you think about it. But it gets scarier. Vlad died in the winter of December 14, 1476. If it were any other part of the year those corpses would’ve started to rot ten minutes after dying and Vlad would’ve woken up to the stench of rotting flesh. I’ve never smelled a dead human body before but if the stink is anything like the dead possum pulsating with maggots I found in my backyard a long time ago I can guarantee Vlad wouldn’t have been happy to have a supernatural nose upon his rebirth. So as much as he hated dying when he did it proved to his advantage.

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Conclusion

—–

It takes three hours for humans to become ghouls, and two to three days for humans to become vampires. If the vampire responsible for biting you force-feeds their blood to the victim they will turn in less than two or three days. If they can be blessed with a holy wafer pressed on their forehead they can stall the transformation for 36 days which is more than enough time to end the guilty vampire.

I need to rewrite Mercy’s living nightmare to last for four hours at least before she stakes Tasha’s ex-boyfriend Lawrence and then is shot by Tod. Then three days need to pass before she is to meet Tasha again as a new vampire.

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Sources

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Hellsing Omnibus Volumes 1 - 3

Dracula, by Bram Stoker

Amy’s Crypt website

Britannia for info on Sultan Mehmed II and Voivode Vlad III Tepes.

Google Maps for that Walk Map.

@merumely @thirstyforlulu @alucardownsmyass @doodleferp @diamond-star @sundove88 @michi-tala @amikartest @trashbaby92 @goblins-riddles-or-frocks @blood-and-cigars @the-hellsing-organisation @icecry @thecrimsonwingsfckerabridged @elixirvitae @therejectkat @alucrd @autumnaaltonen @valentine-bites @theloveandthedead

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thatbanditqueen · 2 years ago

Text

Against the Wall Chapter 1

An Austin Butler 1980s Hollywood Christmas Story

This is Chapter One of a 3-part story I plan to post between now and NYE. It’s my first AB fic, my third fic ever... so be kind. I’m convinced, as always, that its... well.... not great... but whatever. I’m committed to seeing how many bars and alley ways my characters can f*&k in.... Please share/reblog if you enjoy, and let me know your thoughts!

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve 1987, and Austin finds himself at a Silverlake dive bar, where he meets the voluptuous and insecure Hannah. Both struggling to make it in the movie biz, they embark on a tumultuous relationship....

Rating: Explicit

Warning: smut, so 18+ only please, vaginal, oral, drugs, alcohol, references to toxic relationships, infidelity.

Words: 13.8 K.... the next one won’t be as long, exposition....

Playlist to keep you company as you read....

Chapter One: Bruised Bananas

1:16 a.m. Thursday, December 24, Technically Friday morning, December 25, 1987

The Black Cat Lounge, Silver Lake

“You sure its ok for me to go, Han Han?”

Hannah leaned in, struggling to talk over the sound of Depeche Mode reverberating through the small, dark club.

“Course! I know you don’t get any in Iowa, so go have fun with Rod.”

“I think his name is Todd! OK…. maybe you’ll meet someone before closing? You’ve been working your brains out, you deserve a good Christmas fuck,” Sara looked into her friend’s eyes, and kissed her cheek. “Call me tomorrow? I live near Abe’s, maybe I’ll stop by and say hi…”

“Yes, please, Sloan’s back from New York and she’s bringing her latest victim, I’ll need you…”

Sara nodded as she followed Rod or Todd or whatever to the door. Hannah sipped her vodka tonic, relaxing, she felt warm and happy. The air was full of cigarette smoke, chatter and excitement. New Order’s “Bizarre Love Triangle” started and she hummed along, enjoying how the loud synth boomed through her body as she basked in the glow of the Christmas lights around the bar, the only bright spot in an otherwise almost pitch black room. Christmas Eve girl’s night was their tradition, usually there were five or six high school friends but tonight it was the two of them. Sara was home from the Iowa Writer’s Workshop for a week, so when Rod or Tod or whatever his name had started buying them drinks, Hannah was happy for her. Sara paused and look back, eye brow arched silently confirming one last time that it was really ok to leave Hannah on her own. Hannah hoisted her thumbs up in the air and smiled broadly. Lopsidedly. Drunkenly. She rubbed her eyes, forgetting she had make up on. A fuzziness grew at the top of her head. You should go too… go pee… then leave.

There was a long line at the bathroom. This is going to take forever….. Hannah pushed up the sleeves of her black, sequined blazer, wondering if she could make it home first. Even the thought of peeing made her want to burst. Don’t risk pissing yourself in the cab, just be patient, get in line. Her stomach dropped a bit when making eye contact with some of the girls leaning against the wall, looking her up and down. She suddenly felt self conscious, fat, ugly….. New year’s goal, get down to a size twelve you stupid cow. Smoothing down her tight leather mini-skirt as she shifted in place, she argued with herself, that’s just your mom talking, shut up and love your self, stupid. Then a genius idea struck, and she walked towards the men’s restroom and swung through the door, making eye contact with the solitary man washing his hands.

“Of course there’s no line, s’totally unfair, isn’t it?” She said, winking, he smiled as he left.

The relief was immediate. Hannah sat there in the stall, she had never been so happy to sit and pee quietly in a bathroom. She pulled up her fishnets, arranging herself to leave when she heard the door followed by trousers zipping open. Oh well. Boobs first, Hannah made her way to the sink, grateful for masculine bathroom etiquette, the blonde white guy at the urinal kept his eyes forward while she washed up. She dried her hands, slowly, enjoying the voyeurism of watching him shake, zip up and turn around in the mirror, unaware of her. He stopped and grinned when he noticed her, blue eyes alight with surprise.

“Whooo, hey, what’s a bathroom like you doing in a girl like this?” His voice was gravelly and his eyes laughed, drawing Hannah in, she turned toward him as he twisted the faucet. Hair combed back in a high, messy, casual quiff, his square cheekbones were an invitation. He continued talking, washing his hands, laughter in his voice.

“Either you’re the most convincing drag queen I’ve ever met, or you’re lost….”

Hannah shifted, drawn in by his warm voice, the challenge of his droll banter… she ran her hand through her curly auburn hair.

“I’m just starting the bathroom revolution, baby, if you don’t have to wait in line, neither should we.”

“Ok, Gloria Steinem,” he said slowly, extending the last “nummmm” with a flick of his tongue, mouth open, looking her up and down. A bemused smile curving in his lips. It sent a shiver up her belly and through her chest as she felt the impish tenor of his voice roll over her.

“Ya know, you actually strike me as the sort of girl who probably spends a lot of time hanging out in men’s restrooms…. checking out the goods…. picking up dates…”

“Ha!” Hannah’s head flew back, she weaved and steadied herself, leaning further into the counter. “You got me! That’s my plan here.” Emboldened by his smile, she leaned closer and whispered, “Tell me, is it working?”

He brushed one of her errant curls behind her ear, looking into her eyes, and then at her breasts as they heaved up and down in her low cut silk top. Biting his lip, he dropped to her ear.

“Well, you definitely got my attention.”

The air hitched in Hannah’s throat, his breath was on her neck and she shuddered as butterflies danced through the walls of her vagina. What the fuck is happening? Is he really flirting with you? Ughhh, why are you turned on? He isn’t even your type, he looks like a stock broker… hot, country club, beautiful yuppie scum… oh fuck it. Maybe it was the warm comfort of being drunk in a low lit room, maybe it was the thrill of being in the men’s bathroom, or maybe it was the way she could still feel the heat of his finger behind her ear. Whatever it was, Hannah broke her rule to never make the first move and drew his head down to her lips. He tasted like beer and smelled like a mix of Jasmine and amber earthiness.

“Hey there… you’re pretty friendly for a bathroom occupying revolutionary…” he muttered, softly returning her kiss.

Hannah’s wound her arms around him, pulling him closer.

“Don’t tell anyone but we’re all pretty easy, sex is a….” she smushed her lips against his, tugging him further down as his hands grabbed her ass, lifting her onto the sink. “… an important part of our militant agenda… ahhh,” she moaned as he sucked at the nape of her neck, hands on top of her fishnets.

His attention became more intense, returning to her mouth with savage, sloppy kisses, nudging his tongue in and pushing hers down before flicking the tip

“God… you taste like strawberries…” he whispered, earnest, eager.

“That’s my …ughh… lip smackers…”

Hannah widening her legs as he pushed between them, her skirt riding up as his thumbs traced her inner thigh. She wrapped her legs around him and felt his cock stiffen. He stepped back to catch his breath and her mouth felt swollen, raw, and needy, she longed to feel his strong lips pressing back against her, owning her, compelling her to open up and bring him in. His eyes followed as his left index finger traced down the front of her shirt, slowly, grazing her breast, looking back into her eyes expectantly.

“Hey, let’s slow down….”

Hannah’s response was dulled by the arousal vibrating between her legs, she bit her lip.

“Hmmm….wait, what?”

“We should go back out there - dance? ”

“Ummm….”

She took a deep breathe, noting the bulge of his erection as he ran his fingers through his dirty blonde hair, relishing how his sure hands grabbed her and tenderly lifted her off the counter .

“Unless you want to turn me around and just have your away with me here?”

“Public sex isn’t really my thing.”

“Ah, you are more of a gentleman than I am, sir, I would have had my way with you right here and now…” Hannah winked, enjoying the blush that spread with his smile as he took her hand. She didn’t recognize herself, talking this way, the words just stumbled out of her mouth

“C’mon.” Something in Hannah’s belly curled as he grabbed her hand, his strong grip pulled her to him and she became an extension of his body, fitting neatly into the curve of his armpit, giddy as he looked down at her with a goofy grin on the way to the dance floor.

The music enveloped them as he unfurled her and moved his shoulders, swaying his hips to the sounds of Siousxie and the The Banshees. She turned and backed into him, moving in rhythm, lifting her arm to pull his mouth to her neck, rubbing her ass into his hips, turning back to wrap her hands around his neck. They moved together, awkwardly at first, then relaxing to meld in synchronicity to the beat. The slow, sad opening chords of Duran Duran’s “The Chauffeur” blared out and Hannah leaned into him.

“This is the last call song, it’s bar time.”

“Oh, cool… I need air anyway….”

Hannah moved towards the front door, then felt his hand on her shoulder, he was nodding toward to the back exit. Hannah pulled him into her arms as they stumbled into the alley, now he was walking her back to the brick wall across from the club, behind a set of dumpsters. She leaned into the cold surface, feeling its uneven rough ridges through the back of her thighs. The sharp sensation arousing her even more.

“What’s your name, anyway?” She asked.

“Austin…”

She whimpered as he kissed her, shallow at first and then deeply, slowly, his hands pressed on either side of her.

“I’m…. Hannah….”

“Hannah…..that’s my favorite name….”

“Liar….. “

“It wasn’t before tonight… but right now it’s… “ he kissed her neck, “the only name…” he kissed her clavicle, ”I wanna know….”

He paused, stepping back and taking a joint out. Hannah looked him over, like her, he was dressed head to toe almost entirely in black, punctuated by a metallic dark blue dress shirt that blended in with the rest in the darkness. The contrast made his blonde hair and lightly tannned skin all the more radiant. His bright blue eyes shone with lust as he lit up the joint and inhaled. Hannah reached over, taking it without asking, looking into his eyes intently as she leaning up to shot gun the smoke into his open lips. Austin’s fingers traced the side of her cheek, down her jaw.

“You are pretty cute, you know… for a sharp tongued broad who likes to harass men in the john.”

Hannah’s eyes sparkled as she gasped a “ha,” but he could see that his fingers flustered her. Austin liked the idea that he was making her blush, making her speechless, smirking as her lips hung apart. The look of pure, unadulterated desire on her face made his cock hard, it had been at half mast since they left the bathroom. Her brown eyes looked up at him with awe, not demanding attention, not expecting anything, she looked genuinely thrilled just to be there, standing in his shadow and fooling around. It had been a long time since he was with a woman who didn’t seem to demand constant flattery and praise. Austin looked back into her eyes, they seemed unsure, playful, innocent, an effect heightened by how hard she was trying to seem confident and experienced, grabbing the joint out of his hand in mock defiance. He lost himself watching her, wondering what it would be like to taste her as he took it back and sucked in another hit, savoring the strawberry lip balm that lingered on the tip of the joint. His left hand moved into the wall as he hovered over her, smiling down at Hannah. He was torn between a primal desire to protect and care for her, and pillage every orifice. The tenor of her voice and the way she seemed almost overwhelmed by their closeness on the dance floor gave him the impression she didn’t do this sort of thing with strangers often.

“So….Hannah…. nice to, uh, meet you …”

She smiled, a blush returning to her cheeks as her eyes fell to the ground, her hips falling further against the wall. Austin inhaled and held her chin up so he could now shotgun the smoke into her mouth. Her eyes answering his unspoken question by pressing her hands on his shoulders as she held in the hit for a few seconds, her forehead now grazing his, their noses touching. The sensation was intensely intimate, and Hannah’s expression shifted to a challenging smile as she took the joint back from him once again. Austin felt a bolt of electricity go up his spine and settle at the base of his skull, his whole body buzzed. He was transfixed, unable to break eye contact as his fingers moved up and down the voluptuous, soft curves of her hips. He loved the way her body welcomed his hands, warm, pleasant, comforting, he wanted to submerge himself into her plush bosom. His thought of his last girlfriend, all tight skin and bones, a sharp edged bird.

Hannah’s dark curls bobbed up and down like her tits, Austin couldn’t help touching them. He pulled on a curl, watching intently as it sprang up and down, then doing the same experiment with her right breast, caressing beneath it and then lifting it up to watch it bounce. He could spend hours just watching the buoyancy of these tits heave above him. He leaned in, now his lips were again on her neck, his hands moving down her thighs, a moan escaping her mouth through the rich, exhale of smoke. She threw the joint on the ground, hands moving under his jacket, as Austin traced up her thighs. His fingers moved up her skirt, almost absentmindedly, seeking out the warmth inside her panties and between her legs. Hannah arched into him as his fingers lightly grazed the public hair at her entrance, looking up she saw uncertainty in his eyes.

“Is this ok?” His voice was low, cracked, his mouth parted.

She nodded and he kissed along her jaw, moving into the base of her neck, then her ear, his fingers delving between her and slowly, carefully, yet purposefully, stroking up and down over her clit, finding the moisture and using the slick to rub her in rhythm with her hip as it thrust forward. He joined her, rutting against her leg, gently sliding his index finger lower, into her cunt, gasping as he worked the tight clench, using his thumb to follow her moans, noting how she trembled most when he thumbed a half circle along the left side of her nub. She became slippery and soft, opening for him, her hands around his back, she moaned into the alley, her back rubbing against the rough bricks behind her with abandon. Shiny, black sequins from her blazer spiraled to the ground. Austin stopped nibbling her ear, shifting above her, looking into her eyes.

“You are….. so beautiful,” His cheeks flush, his thumb flicking back and forth, Hannah moaned out as he pushed his middle finger into her now.

“Don’t do that.” She said, looking up at him.

“Does that hurt?” He asked, pulling his second finger out, maintaining his slow, rhythmic flex.

“No, I mean what you said. Don’t talk …like that. Don’t lie to me, don’t say cheesy things because you think I need them… I don’t… I… ughh…. I don’t want you to be nice to meEEeee…”

Austin’s smiled as he felt her shudder, unable to stop her voice from trembling under his touch. Then he considered what she had said, his brows furrowing as he stopped fingering her.

“Hey.” He moved her hand to his cock, hard and protruding through his trousers. His voice was low but firm. “I don’t like it when people tell me how I feel, or what to say…. Feel that? I’m not here saying things to be nice… you turn me on. I think you are beautiful… and I don’t care if you agree, honestly…”

She looked up at him, her large brown eyes serious. “I just can’t take it when men are… nice to me.” She kissed his chin, her hand slowly rolling over his member. “I want you to be mean, be rough…hurt me…”

Austin shook his head, his thumbs flicking over her nipples as he glided his hands over her breast.

“What… so you would prefer me to call you like… an ugly slut while I pound you into oblivion?”

Hannah nodded.

“Mmhmmmm.”

Austin’s bit his lip as she moved her hand, continuing to rub the outline of his cock and then pulling on his belt.

His left hand went to the base of her throat, tightening a little, then releasing as she paused.

“Sorry baby, mean and rough ain’t my thing…” he turned her around, slowly, and pressed her against the wall, she felt the cold brick against her cheek as he lips warmed her shoulder, sucking and nibbling as he slowly rolled her skirt up. Hannah gasped, moaning into the bricks, as Austin spoke, his words punctuated by each kiss to her neck.

“If you want me to fuck you... you’re going to have to take me…. Nice and slow…”

He arched his eyebrow as Hannah looked over her shoulder at him and nodded in assent.

“Yeah, ok pretty boy… fuck me then…. Do you, uh, have a condom?”she asked, trembling. Hannah had never had a man treat her this way, it was the most baffling sensation, he asserted his dominance while seeming reverential. She hadn’t been with anyone since Eddie, her last serious boyfriend, and he was punishing in bed, taking pleasure in degrading her as he punched through her like a jack hammer. She felt all the blood go to her core as Austin promised to fuck her slowly, and she throbbed for him even more.

The need in her eyes made Austin momentarily unable to talk, just nod, grabbing his wallet and pulling out a condom, relief washing over him that there was one because he hadn’t planned on having sex tonight. He looked around, briefly brought out of lust’s heady daze of to put his wallet away, condom wrapper in mouth. He glanced down the alley, ensuring they were alone, even somewhat hidden from the back of the club behind the dumpsters. However, he knew anyone walking by would catch them, and the prospect both terrified and excited him. Looking back towards Hannah, he realized she was watching him ardently as he undid his trousers, letting them slide to the ground, shoving his briefs down and rolling the rubber on.

Testes pulled up in the cool night air, Austin leaned into Hannah for warmth, kissing the cushy softness of her ass, lowering her panties, swearing out with a whispered apology as he accidentally ripped her fishnets, he was so eager, hurriedly sparked on by the arousal building in his stomach at the sight of her plump, heart shaped bottom. His hand cupped the softness and then slapped it gently, the pliant give of her cheeks tightening his erection as he halted at her entrance and slowly nudged forward, finding it still somewhat tight, yet also slick and welcoming. As he hesitated, Hannah pushed back on to him.

“I said fuck me pretty boy…”

Austin let out a half laugh that turned into a moan as he reveled in her snug, inviting pussy, moving cautiously as he felt her soften and stretch.

“Does this feel ok?”he asked in her ear, and she nodded.

“Harder.” She called out, looking over her shoulder, seeing his mouth open in silent concentration as he surged gently into her again.

“Like I said, don’t… tell me….” He kissed her shoulder, and grabbed her more firmly at the hips “….what do to….”

He plunged back into her, taking care to remain slow, steady, controlled, savoring how her soft hips moved back to meet him with each forward movement, never fully leaving her warm cunt as he burrowed deeper and deeper, opening her further up to him with every thrust. His right hand moved from her waist to her shoulder, as he pushed her harder against the rough surface of the wall without realizing it, fixated on kissing her neck, then just on breathing as he began to pump into her with slightly more force and speed.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He growled into her ear, she moaned back loudly, then his head fell forward into her back.

“Mmhmmm….. oh god….”

“Hey, let me know when you are close, ok?” He panted.

Hannah gasped, heaving. Just tell him, tell him, you don’t cum during sex… But she couldn’t, she didn’t want to discourage him, ruin the mood, stop him from continuing his steady thrusts that felt so good she planned to think of them later, alone, touching herself. So she nodded, gasping out “Okkkk…”

Austin pushed her further into the wall, increasing his rhythm.

“Ughhh, let me know if I’m hurting you, ok…?”

“No… this is good, I’m umMM… good” she said meaning it, but followed with a lie. “I’m getting close.”

His head fell into her back and he kissed her blazer. Her rough, scratchy, sequined blazer. He kissed it over and over again, as he grabbed at her side, her waist, her neck, his other hand pushing the wall over her shoulder for balance. Hannah felt the pebbly indentation of the bricks gouging into her own hands, too distracted by the pummel of him inside her to notice the pain. Desperate moans escaped her lips, she focused on the crush of Austin’s frame into her, shuddering as she pushed backwards into his insistent lunge. Reveling in the sensation of his hands brushing away the hair at her neck to kiss her, the rhythm of his cock plunging into her, the sounds of his breath, the firm yet considerate lilt of his voice. She moaned out loudly, trying to summon the sound of convincing orgasm, leaning back into him, and crying out.

He followed a few minutes later with his own exclamation, breathing out a succession of “oh gods” in a low, frantic howl, heaving in and out several more times, then grabbing her hips to stop, extracting himself gently, holding her at her waist, kissing her neck one last time. Hannah leaned forward against the wall, catching her breath as she heard him tie off the condom and throw it over the top of the dumpster, then zip up his pants. His sweet, steady manner was jarring in comparison to her previous lovers. The ache of the rough, sharp bricks against her face and hands suddenly begin to set in, but her legs wobbled slightly and she leaned back to the wall to steady herself, a few after shock twitches as she tried to move. He took off his jacket and used it to wipe between her legs, carefully bringing her underwear and most of her stockings back over her bum as lightly as he could, smoothing her skirt down. Hannah rolled against the wall to turn around, still panting, and took in the satisfied, foolish grin on Austin’s face.

“Hey…” he murmured, his lips pursed together as they curled, his fingers brushing her hair out of her face, taking her hand, kissing the back of her wrist. “This is… crazy…I’ve… I’ve never done anything like this.”

Hannah inhaled deeply, tucking her shirt in.

“What, sex in public?”

“Yeah, s’not really my thing. And with a stranger. A crazy one who tried to make me hate fuck her….”

Hannah’s cheeks reddened.

“Yeah… I usually can’t get it up for nice guys… right? Ugh, gag me with a spoon…. I just don’t go in for the ‘oh baby you’re so beautiful’ routine….”

“Too bad, because baby…. you are so beautiful…”

“Just stop … ”

“What’s your deal?”

“Look, I know I’m ok, maybe cute, but I can’t stand it when guys exaggerate… I’m no super model... I actually have one in my family…. so I know what beautiful is…”

“Well… I’ve dated girls like that… Trust me, they ain’t all they’re cracked up to be. Petty, dramatic, high maintenance, no sex drive because they are STARVing? No… I actually think I prefer having something soft to hold onto… ” He leaned down to kiss the top of her cleavage.

Despite her best efforts to stay cool and aloof, a genuine smile beamed through Hannah’s face as she swatted him away from her boobs and guffawed.

“Stop.”

Austin paused, leaning above her, blazer slung over his shoulder. Hannah eyed it, thinking how he used it to wipe away her sweat and slick, how much it would cost to dry-clean. Although, something about Austin gave her the impression he didn’t worry about dry-cleaning bills. He probably grew up in a big, expensive house, going to private schools, belonging to a country club. Suddenly self conscious, she wiped under her eyes.

“I must look like a mess…”

“A beautiful mess…”

“Ok, seriously, stop… you’re the beautiful one, pretty boy, really…”

Hannah soaked in the warmth of his breath, and trembled looking up into his eyes. He searched her face, an inquisitive look spreading he glanced down the alley.

“Hey, let’s go back to your place.”

“What? Why? I don’t even know you….”

A “ha!” escaped Austin’s mouth, floating up into the dark Christmas Eve sky. “Are you kidding me ? I was just inside you…”

“Well…”

“Look, I’m staying with a friend who lives down the street… we can’t go back there, I actually came here because he was fighting with his girlfriend… So we’re going back to your place… I’m not finished with you yet.”

“What?”

“You didn’t cum…Tell me I’m wrong?”

She stuttered. “It doesn’t matter, we both had fun…”

“ ‘It doesn’t matter…’ is definitely a no… “

“You don’t owe me anything…. It’s late, and I’m actually" Hannah stopped as a yawn escaped her lips “ quite tired…”

His lips turned into a mischievous smile. “I do owe you, and I always settle my debts… I might be more of a feminist then you are… female orgasms are my favorite…” He raised his fist and pumped it to the sky, laughing at her eye roll.

“OK,” he continued, “This is ridiculous, shut your pretty face and let’s go already.”

Austin winked as he whisked her next him, putting his arm around her as he walked them down to the end of the alley and into a cab.

———

A simple framed poster for Some Like it Hot in Italian greeted Austin as he followed Hannah into her small, second story studio apartment awash in film posters, art, dirty coffee cups and empty beer cans.

“It’s a mess, sorry, when I’m not working I’m sleeping…. Can I make you some tea?” She asked, an anxious energy in her voice as she turned around, slipping off her shoes and blazer. Grabbing a hair clip from the kitchen bar that clearly doubled as a filing cabinet, rolodex and table, Hannah pinned up her sweaty, curly hair.

He shook his head. “So, what do you do? You know… when you aren’t seducing men in alleys?”

“Ha! You are fucking hilarious… that was also my first time doing anything like that…”

She grabbed his hand as he tried to pull her back into an embrace, turning to the sink, filling a glass with water.

“I’m an editor…. film editor…. I’m working a few so-so jobs right now but.. I’m working on my networking skills…”

“Oh, so you're in the biz?”

“Yeah… yeah… you?”

“Yeah, actually, I’m an actor..”

“No... no! You seem too nice for an actor… too smart…”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone knows actors are just empty vessels… vain stupid empty vessels… they are the worst…. I’ve never met one who wasn’t a complete asshole. Think they’re the most important part of a movie… don’t understand the real artistry is the invisible stuff….”

“Like editing?” He grinned.

“Yes! Editing, writing, sound, camera work… everything else! Editing makes the movie… s’what puts the story together, otherwise it would 100s of hours of different takes out of order…. All actors have to do is show up and let other people dress them and do their hair and feed them their lines…. Ugh, I hate actors.”

Austin grabbed Hannah and pulled her onto his lap as he sat on her orange, leather arm chair, the only place he could see to relax, and kissed her with a smile.

“Ok, ok, I give in, you win, actors are slime and editors are unappreciated artistes…”

She put her arms around his neck.

“Hmm, see, you are smart…. For an actor… So, Austin, you been in anything I would have heard of?”

“Not unless you’ve been watching a lot of NYU student films….”

“Oh no, you’re not still in college, are you?”

“No, I graduated last year, just been living in New York, going out on auditions, I’ve had a few bit parts off broadway…”

“Anything promising.” She watched his face light up.

“Yeah, actually…” he looked down coyly, “I just scored a part in Sydney Pollack’s next movie, I’m moving back out here for it. My agent said its already opening up more auditions… s’really exciting, actually…”

Hannah paused, her hand ran through his hair.

“Wow, Austin… Pollack, good for you…. Wait, you said you are moving ‘back’?”

“Yeah, I actually grew up in Anaheim….”

“Oh no, you’re an actor AND you’re from Orange County?” She leaned into his neck all mock agony.

“What? What’s wrong with Orange County?”

“Everything… I know all I need to know… next you’re gonna tell me you voted for Reagan… wait, don’t….”

“What’s wrong with Ronald Reagan” he laughed, taking her head in his hands and kissing her nose. “You are such a fucking fuss budget, you crack me up….” Drawing her head next to his, mussing her hair, looking up at the art on her wall, absentmindedly kissing her forehead.

Hannah embraced the pleasant comfort of Austin’s arms, looking at his profile, noticing the way his hair seemed to fall into a disheveled coiff yet still seemed effortlessly sexy. I’m lucky I met you before you were in a movie… who knows the next time you’ll have a one night stand with an average girl…. She flicked the bottom of his earlobe, and he turned toward her.

“Wanna fool around?” He asked her and she gently slapped the side of his cheek with her hand.

“Don’t you get tired? It’s almost 4 … we should set up the bed…. I probably smell amazing,” sarcasm dripped from her tongue. “But honestly I can’t be arsed to shower.”

Austin moved his hands underneath her knees and around her shoulder, lifting her up, smelling her crotch, armpits, hair as she giggled and shrieked.

“Smell fucking amazing… you smell like fun….”

Hannah jumped up, extending her hand to lead him to bed. Which was standing upright on the wall of the living room.

“Wow, a Murphy bed? I’ve never actually seen one of these in-person…”

“Yeah, they don’t have these in Orange County, do they? I’m guessing my apartment could fit into one of your mansion’s bathrooms…” He shoved her shoulder with a ha ha ha as she kept talking. “This apartment was built in the ‘30s. It’s small, but it’s all I can afford and it’s only 15 minute over the hill into Burbank.”

“Oh, are you working at Warner?”

“No, I’m free lancing it, I’m at a little post house, we do a lot of Disney’s stuff…”

“Wow, look at you….” An expression of respect formed on his face as he watched her pull the bed down. He knew a few editors from his program at NYU, they were all dudes. Every editor he’d ever heard of was a dude. His own brief experience learning basic editing in a required class had shown him how much he detested that kind of work, he was not cut out for the grinding, thankless schedule of postproduction and the patient attention to detail it demanded.

“The sheets are dirty —“

“S’all good with me —“

“I guess I should change…”

Austin moved toward her, she froze in silence as his hands slowly untucked her shirt and lifted it over her head as she shifted, a nervous laugh startling out of her throat. She looked up at him, dazzled by his attention, soaking in his reverence as the back of his fingers trailed over her naked belly, turning her around as he kissed her back and unclasped her bra. Throwing it to the side, he turned his attentions to unzipper her skirt, bring her back to face him as he pulled her skirt down with her fishnets and panties to the floor, kissing the smooth skin over her plump belly,settling on his knees to lift her feet one-by-one as he gently took her clothes off. He drew her down to the edge of the bed, looking into her eyes.

“There, I think you’re ready for bed…..”

“Ha….” She said, almost breathless, pushing up on his shoulders. “I need to brush my teeth…” she patted him on the head, ambling to her little bathroom, looking back over her shoulder to see him watching after her naked bottom with a happy, dazed look on his face.

——-

12:05 p.m. Friday morning, (Technically it had been afternoon for six minutes) December 25, 1987

It was when Austin tossed into her and began snoring on the top of her head that Hannah woke up, finding his left hand cupping her breast from under her shirt. She lay there for ten minutes, enjoying the cozy warmth of his body as it spooned into her. The hard dagger of his morning wood jabbing in her ass made her sizzle, she hadn’t even really gotten a good look at it in the dark, but she knew it was a girthy bugger from slight soreness that lingered between her legs. His embrace was wonderful, but she couldn’t bear Austin’s snoring, it got increasingly louder and made her cracking hangover unbearable. How the fuck can someone so hot make these unholy sounds? Despite her best efforts to disentangle herself without waking him, she saw his eyes blink open as she held his arm, hesitating to find the best place to put it. His hand grasped hers and kissed the back of her palm, groggy, half asleep, he rubbed his eyes.

“Hey…. beautiful…” a sunny smile greeting her as he gathered her from behind back into his arms, smushing his lips into the curve of her neck.

“Hmm…. beautiful, huh… forget my name?” She asked, turning inward to look at him with a teasing grin. He planted a strong peck on her lips.

“Oh Hannah, I wasn’t that drunk… you know athletic activity helps keep the mind alert when drinking…” Austin wiggled his eye brows.

“Oh it does, huh? That is some bullshit…”

He smiled as he kissed her again, now hovering over her, her hips sideways against him. The unmistakable bulge of his cock against her ass.

“It does…. I remember everything….. so, why are you so feisty this morning?” He said, gazing at her breasts. “Oh, right, now I remember… I still owe you a —"

“Austin ha! No… you don’t owe me anything—“

He put his finger to her mouth.

“Shhhhh…. Trust me, I’ve slept with more women than you, most girls don’t cum during sex… at least at first with me … ” he winked, his lips returning to their home on her neck.

“Oh? And how many women are we talking about here? What’s your sample size?”

Austin sighed, and stopped moving his hand up her thigh, settling back and leaning into her shoulder, his hands snaking around to grasp her tightly.

“Do you really want to know?”

“What do you mean?”

“How many?”

“I was just questioning your research methods,” Hannah turned to kiss his cheek, looking up into his eyes, a nervous laugh escaping “I’m just joking around…. I don’t know anything about you, I don’t know your last name, I don’t know how old you are… last night was fun but…I’m a big girl, I know how this ends…. I don’t expect you to share your ...” she kissed his chin and flicked hair out of his eyes “... life history with me.” Hannah kissed him on his lips, and rolled over to get up. He pulled her back to him.

“Hey! Where do you think you are going… “

“To make coffee?”

“Oh no you don’t… ” he leaned in to kiss her again, barely detaching his mouth to mutter in-between soft, sloppy pecks to her lips. “My last name is Butler,” smush, “I’m 23,” smish, “I don’t do a lot of one night stands…." smash “I’m kind of a serial monogamist…” smosh “I’ve had … let’s see … three serious girlfriends …” smush, “and a handful of on-again-off-again casual relationships…a few one-time things, ” smash, “but I actually like good sex…” smosh, “and I find sex is just better when you get to….” smush, “know someone’s body…” he finished with a wink, brushing his fingers along her face. Each kiss sent a bolt of electricity down Hannah’s spine, and she sighed when he stopped, running her index finger lazily along his bare shoulder.

“Do you know how many people you have slept with? Like ever?“

“Probably around 25… counting everything… Do you? Do you keep a list or just use a bathroom turnstile or what?” Hannah let out a laugh, and shoved him as he grinned, kissing her neck, and working his way lower, trying to lift off her shirt. Flames ran up through her torso but she swatted him away. Folding his arms on top of her belly, he rested his head and looked up at her.

“Your turn….” He slapped her thigh. “Full name?”

“Hannah… Rosenfeld…. 24… Leo…. two serious boyfriends … I’ve probably slept with about 10 people, total.”

“And how many of them made you cum?”

Hannah looked up at him, blushing, and turned to talk into the pillow.

“I can’t talk about this with someone I only just met…”

She rolled off and went to the kitchen area. Austin pushed up in bed and watched her.

“Why not? It’s perfectly normal and natural.”

Hannah looked at him over the kitchen counter as she filled her kettle with water.

“It’s… it’s complicated …”

Austin got up and walked over, taking the kettle out of her hands, gliding his fingers up and down her sides. Hannah quivered, leaning back into the counter, hands pushed against the hard laminate surface, she breathing louder and louder as his fingers moved to her panties, his muscular abs grazing over her breasts, his mouth hovering over her ear as he spoke softly, deeply.

“S’not complicated…”

He kissed under her ear, his hands worked inside her underwear, brushing over her, before moving down on his haunches to take them off, kissing the soft woolly patch at the apex of her legs. Hannah gasped as he rose and grabbed her by the waist, hoisting her up on the counter as she snorted.

“Austin..” She hit his arm. “What are you doing?”

He shushed her, putting his fingers into her mouth, and then bringing them between her folds. Hannah felt a tension building in her stomach, her chest began to ache and she inhaled deeply as he parted her thighs wide, a serious look on his face as he returned to her eyes.

“Just …relax….”

“But I ——“

His lips were soft as he kissed her, stroking the flame that was growing in her core, feeling the wetness that was developing.

“Please…I fucking love doing this….”

Hannah gasped and nodded, watching him lower himself onto the floor, the thought that his quads were incredibly strong for someone so skinny passed through her mind. It was quickly gone as she heard him moan approvingly, fingers parting her outer lips.

“Good, you are so damn beautiful…”

She laughed, vibrating at the way he enunciated each syllable in bee -ut - a - fulll. Playfully slapping the side of his head, they exchanged a lusty glance as he looked up at her with a devious smile, then resumed his attention to her pussy. Hannah’s eyes squeezed shut and she fell back on her elbows as Austin leaned forward kissing her inner thighs, enjoying the whimpers emerging from her mouth as he rubbed her center with his thumb. Making his way in, one soft kiss at time, he put her legs over his shoulders and opened her further with his hands.

He smiled as her back arched and bit his lip, then leaning in to flick her lightly with his tongue, back and forth. The sensation was almost too intense on her clit, and Hannah called out in-between moans, embracing the tingling feeling growing in her depths as he moved the tip of his tongue in circles around her. Burrowing further, he nudged her clit up and down with his nose as he kissed and laved her entrance, then turned back to her pulsating round nub. Hannah called out indecipherable words as his tongue darted up and down the left side of her clit, long and slow, then shifting to lick across in quick, short staccato movements. She twitched as she felt the warm breath of his mouth on her nub, then thrusting forward as his right index finger slide into her and crooked up, gently swirling until Hannah jolted up with a cry. Austin paused and looked up at her, finger inside her but stilled.

“Uh, yeah… I just ….”

“Hmmm…. I feel like Columbus, did I just discover Hannah’s G spot…?”

“Columbus was a genocidal ….” She breathed out, chest heaving. “maniac…. But…. I do think you are …on to something…”

Austin laughed, and Hannah smiled at his blissed out eyes and goofy smile, his chin covered in her slick.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No…” she whispered.

“What was that?”

“No please god….. don’t stop…. Don’t ever stopppp” Hannah called out, trembling as she felt the hum of his self satisfied laugh against her clit, the feel of his index finger pushing in and out of the spongy, soft bundle of nerves inside her walls caused her to spasm uncontrollably. The more slippery she became, the more acutely she felt each stroke of Austin’s pointed tongue beckoning her into oblivion. The contrast between the light flicks of his tongue and the firm, forceful movements of his fingers drove her over the edge. A heat began to violently develop inside her core and Hannah screamed out as euphoric wave after wave spread through her pussy outward to her thighs and up through her belly button. Austin continued to press her clit gently with his thumb as he fell back on his shins, enraptured by the way her face contorted into a look of painful ecstasy.

“Uhhh. Stop…. Enough… I can’t ….”

He laughed, gripping her thighs as he stood, wiping her dampness along his wrist, kissing her, stroking the sides of her legs. Hannah faltered trying to push up on her elbows against the counter, her arm hit the faucet, splashing water on them and into the sink. Austin stood between her as she pushed it off, stroking her thighs.

“Oh god…” she wiped her brow, tasting herself on his lips with a soft kiss.

“You ok?”

“Mmmhmmm….”

A soft, sweaty glow radiated across Hannah’s face, she grinned at the stiffness of Austin’s cock against her thigh. She worked his briefs down, glancing up to see the fierce need within his eyes, his lip parted as she brought him to her entrance at the edge of the kitchen counter, inhaling as he sunk into her slowly, feeling the pinch, the soreness from last night all but gone. He stopped, not moving as she thrust up into him. Austin gasped sharply, his length fully within her. His hands at her hips, he moved his right hand up to cup her face.

“Hey… I don’t have any more condoms.” He said, thrusting back slowly, and then forward a little, moaning. “Ahhh god, you feel so amazing…. But … we should stop.”

Hannah leaned back, arms over his shoulders, uttering a frustrated grunt.

“I definitely don’t have any condoms either… fuck… you could just pull out… “ she offered, bringing him back into her, arching her hips into him, relishing the sound of his “fuckkkkk” as he stretched her open.

“Are you on the pill?”

She shook her head, “No, I just got off in August… dry spell… figured I’d just use condoms and go back on if I started dating someone… fuck…” She didn’t share the real reason, how she thought it would be easier to loose weight off the pill. She didn’t want to break whatever spell made this handsome, too handsome, man think she was fuckable.

“OK, yeah… let’s stop… I gotta go to a Christmas thing…. and fuckkk… ok…. we should .. definitely stop… ”

“Hmm… I don’t… want … to either… but … I have ... same …”

Austin paused, just standing there, still buried to the hilt in Hannah. He kissed her, deepening with each one, tightening his embrace as Hannah whimpered. He looked down into her eyes.

“I want to see you again.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow?”

“I have a thing…”

“After?”

“Maybe….”

“Take you out… like on a date….”

“Ok.” Her voice was soft and breathy.

He pulled out of her, slowly, evincing a deep moan.

“I’m going to go buy the biggest box of condoms….” He promised, smiling into her with another kiss.

Hannah laughed, putting her hand around his dick, feeling her slick lubricating him as she tugged.

“I could still get you off?” She offered, puckering her mouth with a loud POP.

He looked over at the clock, it was 1:30.

“Fuck, god… but… ughhhh…. its ok… I’m a big boy… and I gotta jet, I have two different parties I have to go to, and I’m already gonna be late…”

Hannah traced the ridges of the corded muscles along his abs, nodding, knowing she also needed to shower and get ready for her day. He helped her off the counter, kissing her, and moving to find his clothes.

“So, what are you up to? Rosenfeld…. does your family celebrate Christmas?” Austin was on the ground looking for his pants.

“My uncle does, for his wife, they’re having a big party.” She leaned into the sink, watching as he searched for his clothes, now sitting on the bed, buttoning his shirt, pulling on trousers.

“Oh, do you have a big family?”

“No… he just knows a lot of people…. It’s just me and my dad here in LA…. ”

“Ohh… “ he smiled, as he bent to pull on his black slip on shoes. “Your pop meeting you there?”

Hannah shifted, running her hand through her hair.

“Um, no, he and my uncle don’t really talk…. s’a long story…. the short version is, my dad’s an editor too… like a sound editor, he and my uncle started out together, my uncle’s a ... uh... a producer… they both came out here, found some success… and, well, about twelve years ago my uncle agreed to invest in my dad’s business idea, a full service sound design company … then.. well, my aunt convinced him not to at the last minute.. the whole thing kind of tore our family up….”

Hannah inhaled, and stopped talking. She didn’t tell him how her father had dealt with the devastation of defaulting on his loan by drinking. Heavily. How her mom ran off to San Francisco and then back to London, to her family, to get away, leaving 12 year old Hannah there. Which was ok, if she’d had to choose, she had always been closer to her father anyway. But things got messy, her father had made the horrible decision to restart his life buying a trailer in Malibu, in a small, unofficial retirement park full of nosy old people. Hannah had to transfer from her crunchy, alternative artsy private school to Santa Monica High, the nearest public school to where they now lived. Suddenly her commute to school went from 10 minutes to an hour, and that was probably the easiest part of high school. Pot, ice cream, music and her small coterie of friends had made survival possible until she escaped to college. Things were better now, her dad was three years sober in AA, working intermittently, though mainly non-union, TV and straight to video stuff. Hannah longed to buy him a big house, set him up, let him rest, he had been grinding for thirty years. She wanted to free him, help her father move on from his disappointed, disoriented life adrift these last ten years. Hannah stopped, feeling she had overshared.

She took in Austin’s look of warm sympathy, his low “Oh… wow…”

“Hey, I didn’t mean to get heavy… but.. no, I won’t see him today… we have a tradition, we swim in ocean at dawn on New Year’s day, so I’ll drive out to his place in Malibu and see him then…. But, uh, yeah, I like started trying to mend things with my uncle about two years ago.. ha…. You know, after I graduated from UCLA and started looking for work…. My uncle is a producer… I guess I am shamelessly trying to use him….”

Austin walked over, putting his hands around Hannah.

“That’s how this business is, I’d do the exact same thing - you have to use every advantage you have, because it’s not about how good you are…. It’s about who you know…”

————

5 p.m.

The sounds of the party downstairs floated up to the guest room where Hannah had snuck off to call her friend Sara, excitedly running through the events of the last 24 hours.

“It’s like, a Christmas miracle babe… I might actually start liking this fucking holiday… When can you get away? Come meet me here, and we can go get a drink at Barney’s… I wanna hear all about Rod Todd.”

“Yes…. It’s definitely Todd, and I don’t think my night was as exciting as your’s… Give me another hour or so and I’m there…” Sara promised.

Hannah smiled, she had been grinning all day, hearing Austin’s voice every where she went. If she squeezed her legs she could almost imagine feeling him between them as he asked to see her again, his hard length still inside her. She straightened her white blouse walking downstairs, she even smiled at the sound of the Vienna boys choir as she ordered a glass of red wine at the bar, nodding and making small talk with some of the other people there. The guests were mostly from Paramount where her uncle was Vice President of Development, but there was an assortment of people from other studios, talent agencies, competitors and random acquaintances. Right now, Hannah was learning how her uncle’s accountant had walk-on roles in several films last year. Hannah guessed over a hundred people were wandering around the party throughout the downstairs and back yard of her aunt and uncle’s vast Bel Air mansion.

A caterer walked by with bacon wrapped scallops, and Hannah had only popped one her mouth when her younger cousin Nathan ran up and grabbed her hand.

“Mfph… caor-ful nat-tin,” she swallowed, steadying. “Wheww, I almost spilled my wine.”

“Mom said to come find you, Sloan just arrived with her boyfriend, she wants a family photo.”

“Ok, ugh, how do I look?” Hannah asked, brushing off Nathan’s hand as she followed him to the front of the house. “Oh, how much of an arrogant douche is this one?”

“I can’t tell, he looks like he could go other way..”

Hannah laughed and then stopped in her tracks as they rounded the hallway, the air left her throat and she jumped back, startled, her hand jerking back and spilling red wine all over her white blouse, her purse dropping to the ground.

“FUck fuck fuck…” she whispered, as she bent down to grab it. You are insane, every where you go, every voice you hear, you think it’s fucking Austin. But as she stood up, she saw Austin’s horrified face looking back at her, her thin, gorgeous cousin Sloan hanging on his arm. Her model cousin Sloan. Her 20 year-old model cousin Sloan. Sloan’s mouth agape in a shocked laugh as her aunt ran over, the British accent made her voice all the more shrill.

“Hannah, oh god, did you get any wine on the carpet? Dear dear, now we’ll have to wait to do the photo… Abe, ABE! Get Gigi out of the kitchen for me…”

Hannah trembled, putting her glass on the nearest side table, thankful all the wine had spilled on her shirt, and none had landed on the pure, white carpet. She closed her eyes, wishing to be anywhere else as her aunt turned her around and started walking them away from the group, looking back to yell.

“Please excuse me, Austin, it was so nice to see you again. I have to go get my clumsy niece sorted out… Sloan, show him around, won’t you? We’ll do the photo later….” She moved Hannah forward. “What am I going to do with you, Hannah? I just hope we can find something that fits… maybe one of Abe’s dress shirts… oh, I think I have an oversized holiday sweater that will work.”

Hannah looked at herself in the mirror of her aunt and uncle’s master suite. A large, oversized ugly bright red Christmas sweater dwarfed her body, almost completely covering her blue mini-skirt. She fell back onto the large, soft bed, arms spread, doom enveloping her. She felt the hairspray on her dirty hair crunch. Of course. You knew he was too good to be real. Maybe you imagined last night … maybe he was just a figment of your delusional mind…. ? Wallowing in self pity, the sound of the door disturbed her from her reverie.

“It’s ok, Elaine, I’m coming - I just need a moment…”

“Hannah?”

She jolted up at Austin’s voice, watching from across the room, arms crossed, eyes glaring as he closed the door.

“Fuck off….”

“Hannah, it’s not what you think.”

“Oh?”

“No, look… Sloan and I broke up last week… she just… I just… she asked if I would come do this one last thing as a couple… it meant a lot not to tell her mom right now… I was gonna be out here anyway…"

Hannah looked down as he strode over, backing away as he tried to embrace her, wiping the tears at her eyes.

“Don’t…”

“Please, don’t be like this… fuck… this is the most unreal fluke … ya guys don’t even have the same last name…”

“We do have the same last name, Rosenfeld is too ugly for a model, too Jewy, Sloan shortened it to Rose when she moved to New York after high school … ”

“Hannah.” He stepped closer. “C’mon, it was an honest mistake.”

“Ok, so if it’s not such a big deal, why didn’t you mention this morning that you had to pull out of me to go take your ex-girlfriend to her family’s Christmas party? …. It’s all about who you know, isn’t Austin? Tell me. ” Hannah jeered, wiping more tears away. “Is Abe producing the film you’re in?”

Austin growled, fighting off her swats and grabbing her by the shoulders, holding her still. He wanted to choke her and fuck her into submission and comfort her all at once. The fear and anger in her eyes caused him to back off.

“Just stop, ok, you’re not being fair… " he relaxed his grip, Hannah went slack and fell into his arms. “Oh Hannah… I’m sorry… you’re right… Sloan… we really are broken up… but … it did feel weird meeting up with her... today…. after last night… this is… gnarly…. but I like you… I still wanna see you again, is that so crazy?”

He took her by the chin, gently, looking into her face, searching for recognition. Her expression tensed, a stony smile formed as she pushed him away.

“Here’s the thing, Austin. Babe. There’s a girl code. Friends, cousins, their exes are off limits.”

As her feet padded down the stairs, Hannah almost ran out the door as Wham’s “Last Christmas” came over the sound system. Landing with a thud, instead, she stalked over to the bar and ordered two double vodka tonics, downing one after the other, then grabbing a glass of egg nog from the punch bowl and liberally spiked it with rum. Pacing across the room, she saw Austin come down, her mind now racing to form an escape plan, only to disintegrate inside as she watched Sloan approach her, arm around an enthusiastically smiling Sara.

“Hannah, thank god you are all cleaned up, look who I found on the front doorstep?”

Hannah inwardly groaned, as Sloan waved Austin over, continuing.

“Hey, why don’t we all go downstairs to the den? We might find some snow after all out here in sunny California…” Sloan snaked her other arm through Hannah’s as she tried to protest.

“Hey Sloan, Sara and I have to be some—"

“I don’t mind.” Sara chimed in.

“Don’t be silly Han Han…. Austin, bring that hot bod over here…” Sloan commanded, leading them around the house to the downstairs den, a dark room with the largest TV in the world.

No one was around, and Sloan plopped down on the couch, opening her purse to pull out a mirror and a small coin purse, from which emerged a little baggie of white powder. Expertly lining rails of coke, Sloan paused to look up. Austin slowly went over to join her, and Sara sat on her other side.

“Are you partaking Hannie?”

“Is everyone else?”

“Why not…” Sara sighed.

Austin eyes caught Hannah’s, as she nodded. “Then yes, please…”

“What’s with you Hannah, anyway?” Sloan mumbled, rolling up a $100 bill.

“Hannah met someone last night…” Sara giggled.

“Really?” Sloan arched her eye brow, and snorted two lines, handing it to Austin, who shook his head slightly, muttering why not as he leaned in.

“I don’t really —“

“She really likes him…. What did you say? He was the sexiest guy you ever met? Ever?”

Hannah shot Sara a dirty look, trying to communicate that she would kill her if she uttered one more word.

“What?”

Walking over, Hannah sat across them below the coffee table, taking two rails up the nose, sniffing hard as the taste hit the back of her throat.

“I’m so happy for you Han Han…” Sloan turned to Austin, who coughed as she explained, “My cousin has dated some real losers….”

“That’s not true…” Sara feebly added.

“What happened to Billy from last year?” Sloan asked.

Hannah responded through gritted teeth. “Billy is my very gay, very single, good friend.”

“Oh, well, we were all just glad that psychopath was out of the picture…”

“Psychopath?” Austin murmured. Hannah shot him the look of death, running her hand through her hair, tapping the mirror for Sloan to put more blow out.

“Eddie.” Sara added, as Hannah formed the powder into more lines, and snorted. “He was the worst, I’m sorry Hannah, but he was.”

Sloan nodded, “Yeah, oh boy… what ever happened to him?”

“His band went on tour with Minor Threat and he cheated on me… what can I say, I seem to attract losers, gays and cheaters.” She raised her eyebrow, looking Austin straight in the eyes, and then stood up.

“So Han Han, still editing The Mickey Mouse Club …?” Sloan swiped more coke out with her finger, smearing it on the inside of her gums.

“I think she’s actually editing all the Disney original TV shows right now, right?” Sara tried to break the awkward silence following Sloan’s condescending tone.

“I think I’m gonna head out, Sara?” Hannah’s voice was curt, Sara nodded, and joined her, a bewildered look as she followed Hannah out to her car. Aunt Elaine never got a family photo that day, and Hannah filled in her friend as they drove to the bar and proceeded to get very, very, very drunk, swearing off men forever.

Forever lasted about five hours.

Hannah left her car in Westwood Village. The second thing she saw after she fell out of her cab, feeling her sheer black stockings rip, badly, as she stared at the pavement laughing at the cruel joke we call life, was a pair of white, leather dress oxfords at the base of white pants. Very similar to the ones Austin had been wearing earlier that day. She heard the cab door close, and an Austin-like voice ask what he owed, before strong hands came under her arm pits and tried to pull her up.

“Fuck off … I’ve got it all unner controllll” she rolled away, laying flat on her back, feet slumped over the curb. Austin walked between her knees, his cool eyes looked down at her.

“I told Sloan about last night.”

Hannah blinked, rolling up on her elbows.

“What? Why would Sloan tell you ’bout last night?”

“You are such an idiot.” Austin sighed, looking up at the stars, laughing to himself and shaking his head as he looked back down at Hannah, drunk, a confused expression hovering above the large Christmas sweater, black tights torn across both thighs, blue mini skirt askew. He mused to himself that it looked like two rats had fought in her hair. The ridiculous spectacle made his cock stir even more, he couldn’t explain why. “Give me your keys, we can talk upstairs.”

Hannah pushed herself up, swatting his hands away, then promptly dropping the keys as they came out of her pocket.

“You gave me bruises, ya know, gonna call you Bruiser…”

“What?”

“Yeah… s’ its your hips…. Yer too fuckin’ skinny…. I’ve some light bruising on my ass, Ssssara confirmed this for me in the powder room at the skey lub.”

“Ski Club?”

“Klee Clunk”

“Oh, right, the Key Club… oh boy, how many places did you guys hit?”

“Ev’ry place…. And I can’t believe you gave me bruises with your stupid sharp skinny sips…”

“Ok, babe, duly noted.” Austin laughed, shaking his head further, grabbing her keys and sweeping Hannah over him as she started to stumble forward, carrying her up the stairs over his shoulder, getting her cleaning and falling asleep next to her for the second night in a row.

————

January 1988 - July 1989

It started out casually enough, neither one wanting to ask the other what they were doing, avoiding talking about what this relationship was. In fact, they barely spoke for the first few months, their lips otherwise occupied as they were drawn to each other by the magnetic attraction that only grew in intensity each time they laid eyes on one another. On the first three dates, they couldn’t even get out the door before the graze of an arm over a chest or the kiss of lips saying hello on a cheek would become the catalyst for heaving, sweating, swearing, groaning, primal, squelching, slapping, bruising, choking, senseless, neighbors-banging-on-the ceiling, wall, floor, fucking. Usually followed by a session of panting on the bed, leather chair or kitchen floor, exhausted and conceding that they should just order delivery. And then commanding a repeat performance once their energy returned.

“So…” Austin moaned, in flagrante, after date number two had been derailed by Hannah’s fingers brushing lint off Austin’s sweater. “Am I really the sexiest man you ever met?”

“Ughhh… shut the fuck up… I was hung over… clearly brain damaged from the alcohol… just be quiet and fuck me, you ugly sod …”

“If I’m so ugly, why’d ughhh… keep me around?”

“Imma a slut for uggos… you’re all so insecure you compensate with that tongue …. *moan*… its the low self esteem…. plus you got me hooked fucking me from behind… didn’t have to see that fucked up mug… ”

Every time Hannah sighed or looked at him with her big doe eyes, his lips would part in awe and his cock would propel him forward, his mouth seeking out her pleasure like a beacon being guided home. Finally they agreed they had to meet in public if they ever wanted to successfully leave her apartment, so he would pick her up at work and take her out, undeterred by her protests that it was too expensive as he arrived at the valet stand in front of Orcini’s, Chinois, The Ivy, her voice raising higher and higher as she argued In-N-Out was just as good. Austin spent a lot of nights finding new ways to make Hannah’s Murphy bed creak before he found his own place on the Westside, and got settled in a small, modern rental up in the hills.

It was a day in late May, Hannah had just started working on her first feature as an assistant editor, when Austin proposed they stop using condoms. She was sitting on the marble counter of his house, eating chow mien out of the container in a Talking Heads tee-shirt. He was in his briefs. Both exhausted, he’d been shooting his second movie, playing Emilio Estevez’s younger brother.

“I mean, I’m not seeing anyone else… are you?”

“Well,” Hannah fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, “I’m so busy wrapping this McTiernan picture I really haven’t had time to meet anyone else.”

“Is it any good? I can’t believe they cast Willis, he’s a TV star.”

“I love Moonlighting…”

“Still, is he believable as an action hero?”

“You’re just jealous…. “

Austin took the noodles out of her hand and pulled her into a kiss.

“OK, no more talking about other guys… what do you say? You’re on the pill now, right?”

Hannah nodded.

“OK, I’ll get tested…. You’ll get tested… And voila… ”

She kissed him as he lifted her up, legs wrapping around him while he carried her to the bed room.

Despite her misgivings, Hannah brought Austin out to Malibu for tea at her dad’s trailer. It was a Sunday afternoon, and her heart burst as she watched Austin engage with Avram, not hesitating to talk movies and nodding as her father explained his theories about film school, “waste of time, scholars never make good directors, they’ve got their heads in books,” how Mel Brooks was not funny, “but no one has the balls to tell him the truth.” Austin praised sound editing, particularly dialogue editing, as the most important and unappreciated part of making a movie. And he was particularly gracious every time he tried to tell her father he liked movie he’d worked on.

“Hannah told me you worked on Chinatown, it’s one of my favorite movies…”

“Ughhh, what an awful film,” Avi groaned, frowning, his British accent drew out every vowel. “It had real potential, but Polanksi can’t help himself.”

Hannah stifled her laughter, waggling her eyebrows at Austin as she went to get more biscuits. He jumped up, offering to bring the tea cups in.

“I’ve never met someone with so many strong opinions… about film… and I went to NYU… ”

“My father hates every movie, especially the ones he worked on. I can’t tell you how many times he dragged me out of a movie theatre to walk out of something 30 minutes in.”

“He does know that you and I majored in film, right? When he tells you it is stupid to study film?”

“Yes, he knows that one of us went to the best film school in the country —“

“And the other went to UCLA…”

“Ha! …. But Austin, my dad started working in this industry when he was 16, a poor Jewish kid from London, he followed his brother and his career to another country, always having to learn on the job. Always having to prove him self, no one to support him. And then everything with my uncle… He is bitter about how the industry is changing, no one ever had to go to film school to break in until the ‘70s…. And in some ways, he’s right, imagine how much more experience we’d have if we hadn’t wasted four years in expensive classrooms…”

Austin introduced Hannah as his girlfriend for the first time at the after party for the Estevez movie premiere. His publicist, Min, was sweet to her face, though she had made Austin promise no public appearances together. He walked the red carpet alone, meeting Hannah inside, where he found Min smiling as Hannah relayed her own editing credits from the year, making a mental note to discuss publicity and relationships with Austin later.

In their next meeting, Min explained. “You have the potential to be a leading man, Austin, trust me, you do not to be tied down… to an editor? No. Please, trust me, actors are always better dating other actors. Or super models. Or pop stars.”

He brushed it off, explaining it was his private life, and he knew what he was doing. A part of him wondered if being in a committed relationship was wise, fair, good for his career, but those doubts disappeared as he watched Hannah cum on his face the next morning, her dopey smiled sent sparks to stomach, and he pushed up to cover her plush, red lips with his, the taste of her pussy all over his face. Riding her to the hilt and exploding inside of her, Austin shouted “fuckkkk” in rhythm to the sounds of their flesh smacking, filling the empty hillside below his open bedroom window with vulgar noises. That was the day he told her he loved her, pussy drunk, blissed out, nuzzling together in the cosmic afterglow of energetic coitus, endorphins flooding their systems. Austin twisted her hair.

“Hannah Hannah Bo Bana Banana nana … I think I love you.”

Turning, she kissed the side of his chest, her fingers trailing down his chest.

“I feel it too, Bruiser."

“You should move in.”

“Babe…”

“What? This is the first day we’ve spent together all week. You’re busy. I’m busy. So just move in already. Then at least we can do this everyday.”

But of course, they did not fuck everyday. They didn’t even see each other everyday. Some nights, Hannah would fall asleep on the cutting room floor working for a deadline. Austin had to go to Idaho to shoot a western, and he became close with his co-stars, Robert Downey Jr. and Kiefer Sutherland, returning to LA with a stronger proclivity for nose candy, taking the weeks in-between projects to join his newfound playmates on the club scene. He would call Hannah from the pay phone at whatever bar they went to, asking when she would be there. Telling her he found the perfect alley for their anniversary. Some nights she ventured out, Hannah had always enjoyed feeling music pound through her soul, but she found she didn’t just enjoy getting high every night and she needed the blow to stay up until 4 with them and get to work the next morning. And so, on many nights, Hannah would just collapse at home and wake as Austin came in.

She met his family, briefly, at Christmas 1988. Dinner was small, quiet, just Austin, his father and older sister Ashley in the large dining room of a large, stucco house in Anaheim. Hannah had foregone her usual thick eyeliner and studded black leather jacket, buying an outfit at JC Penneys and wearing her grandmother’s pearl necklace. She hated herself, as she looked in the mirror and asked her self, “Would Nancy Reagan approve?”

She burned the dress in July, as she packed her things and moved out of the Hollywood Hills house. The female voice on the other end of the phone line still reverberated through her head. Austin was shooting on location in Arizona, it was his second leading role. At first Hannah had questioned whether the hotel operator had connected her to the right room when a women’s voice answered the phone. She paused, thinking carefully.

“Oh, hey, um… is Brian there?”

She could hear the shower running in the background, and then Austin’s distinct voice shout out.

“Don’t answer the phone!”

The mystery women giggled, then spoke into the receiver.

“Sorry, no Brian here, you must have the wrong number.”

“Oh, this isn’t room 335?”

“No, 334… Austin, don’t, you’re all wet!”

“I thought I said not to pick up the phone?”

There it was closer, deeper, in the midst of some sort of exertion, was he tickling her? Kissing her?

Hannah’s mind raced and her imagination ran wild as she listened to a commotion of fabric and limbs while the phone receiver dropped to the floor.

Muffled voices continued.

“It was for the room next door… why don’t you want me to pick up the phone?”

“Shut up, just promise me -" more feminine giggling as he spoke … “you won’t, ok?”

Hannah hung up after that, adrenaline coursed through her veins, and a sharp, nervous ache ran up her tummy and settled at the top of her chest. Pacing through the living room, through the kitchen, and back again, she started shouting at herself.

“Fucking idiot, fucking actors, fucking Orange County, fucking Reagan, ugh, you fucking stupid cow… you can let this go.” She breathed. “You love him. You knew. This was bound to happen. If you were honest with yourself, you knew. You knew. You knew the minute he told you why he had moved out here. Any real relationship would be impossible. But no, you didn’t care, did you? It was fuuuuun. He was hooot. It felt goooood. Losers, gays and cheaters, Hannah. This is as good as it could ever be. You can push it down, smother it, kill your jealousy and take what he gives you.”

She slumped on the ground, banging her fists into the hard wood floor, seeking out it’s cold to temper the crazy, frenetic heat overtaking her body. Now, she was taking a shower, drinking a beer as the water pummeled down. Three beers later, cold, shivering in the empty bathtub, she had convinced herself to just pretend she didn’t know, act like nothing happened, you love him - that is all that matters.

But then he called her later that night, whispering “Hey Hannah Banana,” into the phone as he always did, his gravelly confident voice exuding fidelity. She wondered if this was even the first time, she couldn’t tell the difference. He had the same deep timbre, extolling honeyed devotion from Arizona as he told her about his day and laughed at her sarcastic jokes.

Hanging up, hate overtook her. She played with the idea of throwing his stupid record collection down the hill. Sitting in indecision for five days, she knew she had to make up her mind about what she would do. He was due to come home in a week. At night, she forced herself to picture him fucking someone else, an anonymous mystery woman didn’t seem real enough, so she pictured Sloan, sucking his dick, riding him on top, crying out his name as he devoured her pussy. Hannah was so anxious she could barely eat, subsisting on coffee and digestives for the next few days. Her whole body trembled through a meeting with the director Joel Schumacher, and Mike, the supervising editor shifting to stare at her periodically and then cornering her to ask if she was ok.

So Hannah made up her mind and started to form a plan. She grieved, chain smoking on the bed, a bottle of vodka in her hand, listening to the mix she had made of The Cure, Depeche Mode, Joy Division, smiling as she stabbed out her cigarettes into the ground, ruining the hard wood floor, thinking of Austin loosing his security deposit. She continued playing stupid on the phone when Austin called, although more and more she let the message machine pick up, feigning a busy work schedule when they talked. She signed the lease on a a little studio in West LA, near Wilshire Boulevard, packed her shit and moved out. She cried as she burned all love notes, valentines, cards, mix tapes and photos of them together in the fireplace before she left. And the dress from Christmas, she would never try to be something she wasn’t for any man. Ever again.

It took Austin two days to notice she had moved out. He arrived home late on a Monday night, assuming Hannah was still at work, he passed out and slept until noon. The past month on location had been a blur. He had wanted Hannah to come with him, and was resentful at her and her career, because they only occasionally had breaks that overlapped. They’d been able to sneak away for a weekend in Cabo, a few days in Vancouver. But it would have been cool to have her keep him company on this shoot. He was busy filming, beginning almost every day at 6 a.m., but the cocaine helped, and he felt like a champion working through the day and going out at night with some of the other actors. He convinced Bob Downey to come visit him when he had a weekend off, they drove to the Grand Canyon together, and dropped acid, then missed their paid and scheduled guided tour and ended up laying on the hood of his Beamer gazing at the stars and pondering the meaning of life.

On his first morning back in LA, Austin got dressed and drove out for meetings with his agent to discuss his the next project, calling home and Hannah’s work no avail trying to reach her. He ate dinner alone at the at Chateau Marmont bar on a whim, drinking a whiskey and talking with the bar tender for a while. He wasn’t famous, yet, not really, and he enjoyed the anonymity, although he nearly jumped out of his skin with joy when Demi Moore recognized him as she entered the restaurant with Bruce Willis. They’d met when she was dating Emilio Estevez, and Austin took the opportunity to gush to Willis about how much he loved Die Hard and how he always thought Willis had action star potential watching Moonlighting. Leaving the Chateau, Austin ended the night with a drive through Hollywood, listening to Genesis and U2 on his tape deck, before growing lonely at home and wondering where Hannah was. He called her work again with no luck, drank a half bottle of whiskey and passed out. It was the next morning, unpacking his suitcases from Arizona, that he noticed Hannah’s side of the closet was empty. Austin frantically walked through the house, opening dresser drawers, looking through the bathroom, checking to see if she had left a note on the fridge or any travel receipts at her desk. His first hope was that she’d gone on a spontaneous trip with friends. Or maybe out to visit her father for a few days. Austin’s heart sank when he saw the empty frames above the mantle, the specks of burnt cards and photos in the fireplace. He wasn’t sure how much she knew, or how she found out, but he punched the wall until his fists bleed, raging at himself for being so stupid, for getting carried away, for screwing around with one of the supporting actresses.

It hadn’t been the first time another actor had flirted with Austin. Indeed, flirting, pranks, late night philosophical discussions, it was all common practice between the crew and the talent, especially on location when the everyone lived at the same hotel. For a month. However, this had been the first time he had given into temptation. Kim was 20 years old, beautiful and carefree, with none of Hannah’s angst or deep insecurities, although he later realized there wasn’t much depth to her personality at all and he got bored. Quickly. In the beginning, it had been freeing and wonderful, even exciting, to explore and get to know a new female body, to end the loneliness he’d been enclosed in over the first week and a half in Arizona. Why did anyone live in the desert anyway? He asked himself as the dry heat hit his face every goddamn day. The way Kim had pursued him was also incredibly flattering. She waited for Austin by his trailer, caught his eye on set while she bite her lip, cornered him at the hotel bar, causing him to smile a mischievous knowing smile every time their eyes locked, to know she wanted him, to feel the power he held over her. It stroked his ego and poured gas onto the fire that would blow up his relationship with Hannah. The sex daze wore off after a week and he realized what a huge mistake he had made. They had nothing in common and it was increasingly annoying how she didn’t get any of his jokes, or slipped into a form of baby talk in bed that grated his nerves, especially when he was hung over. It was worse when Kim began holding his hand on set, probing him about the future, and looking at him impatiently as she talked about going to the premiere together. Like a man, Austin said nothing, and suffered through another ten days of mediocre sex and companionship with Kim before breaking things off the moment shooting concluded.

All of this flashed through Austin’s head as he drove to Hannah’s work, yelling at the receptionist who explained Hannah was not working on anything there, she’d finishing before deadline, and had no idea if Hannah was working somewhere else or coming back in the near future. Swearing under his breath, Austin walked back and forth in the parking lot, squeezing the bridge of his nose, palming his hand through his hair. He considered driving out to Malibu and shaking down Avi, but he couldn’t bare to look Hannah’s father in the eyes, afraid she had shared what had happened, or worse, hadn’t and he would have to explain why he had no idea where his girlfriend was. Racking his brain, he wasn’t sure what to do. He had met several of Hannah’s friends, but didn’t know their phone numbers. It was pure dumb luck that he happened be driving down Wilshire Boulevard in a daze and saw her small, blue Honda hatchback parked down one of the side streets. He immediately recognized the Dukakis 88 bumper sticker in exactly the same place he’d watched Hannah paste it as he teased her relentlessly with promises to cancel out her vote by pulling for Bush. Parking across the street, he sat waiting, unsure of his game plan, but unable to leave. He put the radio on and leaned back. Thrumming the steering wheel, he didn’t see her walk past his car from the apartment building behind him and frown as she recognized his profile. Movement on his periphery startled Austin, and he looked over his shoulder to see Hannah’s beautiful, heart shaped ass running slowly back up the block in low black heels. Springing into action, Austin ran after her, his Nikes and jeans giving him the advantage.

“Hannah! Hannah….” He caught up and blocked the sidewalk, panting deeply. “C’mon Hannah, I made a mistake… one mistake… haven’t you ever made a mistake while you were drunk?”

Crossing her arms, sighing, she resisted the urge slap him.

“Yes. Christmas Eve. 1987.”

Read Chapter Two Here

Taglist (let me know if you would like to be added)

@woundmetender

@powerofelvis

@aconflagrationofmyown

#austin butler x OC #austin butler 1980s fic #austin butler smut #austin butler fan fic #christmas smut #banditqueenwrites

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