#can we just admit they were using the character and name for money purposes

[captain-lonagan]

one of the funniest justifications of some Writing Choices that happened in that wednesday show is "it's very hard to make an adaptation/remake of the addams family" like guys they couldve simply not made it an addams family thing. they didnt have to do a remake. "spooky kid goes to spooky school and gets up to shenanigans" is a well loved type of story. the addams family already has a show, a musical, a comic, and many movies. if writing around the addams family loving each other is so hard they simply couldve come up with a different name and hairstyle and bada boom youre free

[bestworstcase]

any thoughts on the branwens (as in, the group, not the twins) like world building tidbits? also, because i’ve seen people bring it up, raven has killed a lot of people (assumably??), so how do you think the show will handle that going forward?

i kind of metronome back and forth with the branwens on how i read them, because – with the disclaimer that it is Not That Deep because the whole bandit tribe exists to service raven's character and to a lesser extent qrow's, i just brought a shovel – i think there's two interesting ways to take them:

the branwens are an ethnic group, probably historically pastoralist nomads. in this case the composition of the camp we see – 100% able-bodied fighters, no children or elderly – would indicate that this is just a war party and the rest of this society is out in the hinterlands with the livestock. mistrali expansion in the pre-war era would have driven them further and further onto marginal land, with the result of them becoming increasingly reliant on raiding to survive.

the branwens represent a grab-bag of disaffected people who Left Mistral because of its various problems (steep class stratification, widespread poverty, rampant organized crime, political corruption, imperial history meaning many people living in mistral now are descended from conquered peoples…) and discovered that like, subsistence farming is hard and turned to banditry instead, in which case the branwens are unlikely to be very cohesive in the absence of a strong leader because there's less of a cultural bond.

#2 strikes me as more in line with the probable intention based on how they're portrayed, but assuming "branwen" is the tribe name (as opposed to them being "the branwen tribe" now because a woman named raven branwen leads them), then i think #1 is more interesting with regard to ozpin admitting qrow and raven to beacon.

if the branwens are an ethnic minority in mistral, ozpin is a lot more likely to have heard of them vs an ad hoc group of bandits. now consider how "the branwens are an ethnic minority (and the encampment we see is a war party, supplementing a pastoral subsistence base by raiding)" alters the context of "aside from grimm, huntsmen were the only ones capable of ruining our raids and hunting us down. our tribe needed a counterforce." and think about the mistrali huntsmen openly extorting passengers for protection money.

right. like, again it's Not That Deep, we're in headcanon territory here, but pulling away from the text in this way adds an interesting dimension to the twins' enrollment – on the one hand it would be discriminatory for ozpin to reject them on the basis of being branwens and on the other, we know that mistral broadly has a serious problem with corrupt and outright criminal huntsmen and the fear of huntsmen "hunting us down" means something very different if the bandits are just the military force of a nomadic society – it's a fear not for the warriors but for the most vulnerable members.

and then you have the twins on this divergent path because their purpose (to protect those of their people who cannot defend themselves) is exactly ozpin's purpose, he just defines the whole world as his people. it's not so much that the twins reject the branwen way of thinking as it is that ozpin challenges them to expand upon it, to think bigger and wider than before.

qrow embraces this and it shifts his perspective on the raiding – he comes to see it as part of the problem, the warriors as killers and thieves; raven likewise embraces it but in her mind, ozpin's ideals are the justification for the raiding. the warriors exist to defend the people, here as at home. what difference does it make if the danger is from grimm or huntsmen or deprivation?

(on its face this may seem contradicted by "the strong live, the weak die," except that raven is also someone preoccupied with "our people," "our family," "we must do what's right for the tribe" and so forth; a strong society is one that can protect its people, even the weak, and the rhetorical idea of heroic guardians sheltering the defenseless populace boils down to "the strong live, and the weak will die without protection by the strong.")

#2 interests me more in terms of how it contributes to the picture the narrative has painted of mistral as this decaying empire that is sort of hemorrhaging population because people. don't want to live there, don't want to have its way of life imposed on them, and we see over and over that the people who feel this way often feel so strongly that they'd genuinely rather leave and take their chances with the grimm.

like, we don't see that in vale – mountain glenn was built under vale's auspices and populated by valean citizens – and we don't see it in atlas – the free towns in arrowfell are clearly older than atlas/mantle. and we don't see it in vacuo, where despite marked cultural differences between desert vacuans and city vacuans both groups firmly consider themselves One People.

i think it's less interesting in regard to the twins than the first option, though. because if the branwens are legitimately just bandits then the absence of children/elderly in the camp would imply that the twins were kept solely to be trained into weapons and the break between them is more straightforward, with their different perspectives reflecting a childhood dynamic where qrow was the whipping boy and raven favored.

whereas if the branwens constitute a whole, functional society – a) any children born into this group must learn some basic self defense as a matter of course, they live in grimm territory, and b) the nature of qrow's semblance, the tribe's fear of him, and his grimm reaper fanboying opens the question of whether it was less "the twins were kept to be molded into living weapons" and more "qrow didn't want to become a warrior, but misfortune kept getting blamed for things like sheep dying or a birth going wrong or grimm hitting the main camp and he wanted so badly to be good for something, and going on raids kept him at a safe distance from home and in a place where he could at least try to inflict misfortune on the enemy instead."

you still have the dynamic of qrow suffering ostracism and maybe even the threat of exile while raven is a natural fit for what she wants to be, and the first stroke of the lifelong pattern qrow has of isolating himself from people he cares for in this specific way. "why couldn't you travel with us?" / "did you know that crows are a sign of bad luck?" – hits different if the defining experience of qrow's childhood was running with war parties because he was too dangerous to be a shepherd. if the thing that really appealed to him most about the legend of the grimm reaper was that she was good enough to protect and defend her people alone.

and then from raven's side you have the maybe not entirely getting why qrow would want to be anything else, and the being glad her brother is with her most of the time, and the being afraid he might leave her behind. i just think it allows for more complexity.

as for raven killing people: i honestly don't think it's going to matter that much beyond maybe raven and yang having a conversation about it – bc i think yang will probably want to know more about why raven picked banditry over being her mom. like.

it happened. raven feeling remorseful isn't going to make it not have happened. she can't bring those people back to life or rebuild those towns or undo what she did. in vacuo, on the other side of the world, there's not really anything she can do meaningfully within the scope of the story to make amends to the people she hurt, either. what matters in the moment is that she's here now, doing what she can to help. the narrative has always cared more about the present and the future than the past, and the stakes are too high for the characters to let "but you did all this awful stuff in the past" become a distraction.

gestures at letting neo go.

gestures at giving emerald a second chance.

and while the context is different and in no way morally equivalent, i'll point out that like. team rwby have killed people too – the white fang militants in v2 for example, and of course adam – they are trained combatants fighting a war. none of them have ever blinked at using lethal force when it is appropriate to do so. and if they can find it in themselves to show grace to emerald, whose reason for participating in the terroristic sack of beacon was more or less just devotion to cinder, then i don't think subsistence raiding is somehow a bridge too far.

not to say that what the branwens do isn't bad but it is of a different scale from terrorism, and raiding for provisions you need to survive is a lot closer to killing enemy combatants in a battle, or to robyn's or sienna's vigilantism, than it is to terrorism. so yeah i think it's ancillary to the personal reconciliation between raven and yang moreso than it is some sort of moral quandary necessitating special handling by the narrative.

[igibbydotcom]

im done being a hater its time for my essay on why (one-sided) snowjanus was intentionally cannon in the book and why i worship the ground suzanne walks on.

The element of trust is established as being more intimate and meaningful than even love through an exchange between Lucy Gray and Corionalus:

“ “Trust is important.”

“I think it's more important than love.” ”

Directly after this establishment, Sejanus admits to Coriolanus that he trusts him and only him. There are several other instances of this throughout the book, such as when he says he would only trust Coriolanus with Marcus. (They leave this scene out of the movies and I was legit devastated.)

Despite Coriolanus’s conviction that Sejanus has been deceiving him, Sejanus later confesses a plan to run away just so he can say goodbye (evidence of trusting him). Lucy Gray also confesses to solely him her plan of running away, implying it's her last goodbye. ||

Speaking of parallels between Lucy Gray and Sejanus! It can be argued that for both, a romance blossomed for both parties after one is saved in the arena.

Directly after that scene, Sejanus calls him by Coryo and Snow reacts with: “That name is reserved for my loved ones, my old friends and family. And this is when he chose to try it out?” which indicates he has not used it often before, if at all. He uses it much of the rest of the book right up to his death. He is also one of few characters that use the name for him. “Coryo” is his second to last word, right before Ma. ||

Coriolanus is established as Sejanus’s sole friend, being the one person who showed him decency, to the point that Mrs. Plinth recognizes him as such consistently. This implies that Sejanus talks to her about Coriolanus many times. If we were to see this same dynamic between opposing genders, it would be recognized as a romance. ||

Coriolanus refers to him as a brother but he uses the phrase, “more than a friend. The closest thing I've got to a brother.” He uses this phrase twice. Instead of saying “We weren’t friends, we were brothers,” he chooses to repeat the phrase later on. I just think that was interesting and intentional wording. Additionally, Sejanus only ever calls him a brother one time, and only after Coriolanus introduces the term. Even then, he adds the title as an afterthought, as if to fit into Coriolanus’s standards for their relationship/dynamic. ||

Lucy Gray and Sejanus’s parallels are very intentional. Both are the only characters established as belonging to neither district nor capitol, where they mention being distrusted by both parties unless they are of use to them (Sejanus: money, Lucy Gray: entertainment) They’re both presented as being innately good people who go out of their way even into harm's way to help people who they were raised to hate. They are the two characters that confess to trusting Coriolanus, and though he never admits to trusting them in return there is a resemblance of a trusting bond between them as he entrusts each of them with secret parts of his life. They are also both victims of his frequent paranoia, and who he constantly targets as conspiring against him or trying to get him into trouble. Both are connected with nature; Sejanus and Lucy Gray both show specific empathy towards the mockingjays, and even Coriolanus connects the two in that regard. Lucy Gray and Sejanus are both characters that try to escape their fates but whose fates are unfortunately left entirely in Coriolanus’s hands, who causes both of their demises for his own self-interest. Lucy Gray's death, although given a purposely vague conclusion, would finalize their parallel.

Sejanus is also incredibly relevant for just being a casual friend, especially since Coriolanus’s more friendly acquaintances and even family aren’t even as prevalent as Sejanus becomes. He’s as integral to the plot as Lucy Gray is. One of Lucy Gray’s earliest compliments of him was calling him gorgeous; later on, Sejanus uses that same compliment on him. This is a term not used very often otherwise. Coriolanus doesn’t connect with many people’s families (aside from his own of course). The only times he explicitly interacts with someone’s family, its Sejanus’s family, and Lucy Gray’s family. Both accept him as one of their own, even if it’s through his deceptive means. There is no reason for a love interest to have such a direct parallel to another character and have there be no romance involved. ||

Coriolanus watching Sejanus’s hanging is painfully symbolic of Arlo and Lil, both a pair that were involved in treasonous behavior, where only one was caught and the other watches their execution. The main difference is that Coriolanus made no movement to defend him. ||

Sejanus was named after an ancient Rome who was notably homosexual. The names in the story have a correlation with their namesakes, ie Cinna was named after a poet in Julius Caesar who was beaten to death by an angry crowd, and Sejanus’s namesake’s death was by strangling and it was a capital punishment. ||

In conclusion, Sejanus is one of my favorite characters in literature and i have not recovered from the book.

[imeanitplsmorenamifics]

hellloooo, could you do cowboy like me with nami pleaseee? the song is in my nami playlist 😭😭

Hey, hey! I definitely can write it for you! This has to be the most Nami request you could have chosen tbh 😂. I made sure to make it as accurate to her character as possible because of that. I hope you enjoy it! You can find my Flower Asks here, Hozier asks are here, and my Taylor Swift Asks here. You can find my masterlist here and my rules here. And you can request here! Also, don’t know if anyone will notice, but the reader’s story is definitely based on Inbar Lavi’s character in Imposters. cowboy like me: You never expected to fall in love and yet here you are. In love with them of all people. Characters: Nami, GN!Reader Pairing: Nami x GN!Reader TW: None that I can think of, but tell me if there are!

cowboy like me

.·:·.✧ ✦✧.·:·.

There was no way that you were ever going to fall in love. That was something that had solidified in your mind for years now. With your job, there was no room or time for it. The job of having people fall in love with you. It was pretty simple, for you, at least. You worked with two older people named Colt and Lola, who had one other person over them, who they called the Boss. The Boss was a powerful man. Some people would consider him a god because of how untouchable he was. He had many connections. He could make anything possible. Because of this, he wasn’t one to get his hands dirty. He had other people do it for him.

One group that worked for him was Colt, Lola, and you. You weren’t always part of their group. You joined later when Colt and Lola decided to take you under their wing. You had no family. The only thing you had was a knack for acting and deceiving people. This resulted in one of the best scams that the Boss utilized to get the things he most wanted done and over with. The Boss had you pose as a new person who the target would fall in love with while Colt and Lola would find other ways to get close to the target.

The scams were simple. You received a folder of the target, and you, along with the other two, studied it like it was the new edition of the Bible. Colt and Lola would find certain things that the target might need (a maid or treasurer, for example) and would become what they needed. Your job was the most important.

When you looked at the file, you focused on what the person was missing in their life. Whatever it was, you would become that for them. You would be their adventure. You would be their sweet, doting love. You would be their main motivator. You would keep this up until things were locked in (whether that be you dating for a while or even marriage), and the Boss gave the order. Most of the time, the scam would just be to get the person’s money. Usually, the targets were people who owed the Boss money. Sometimes, the scheme was used for informational purposes.

The most recent scheme was information-based. A file was placed on the table of the small boat you, Colt, and Lola shared. You looked up at the older man’s piercing stare. He only gestured for you to look through the file. You sighed, reaching forward and grabbing the file. When you opened it up, you were met with the picture of a woman with orange hair and blue eyes. The picture was obviously taken without her knowing.

“The Boss wants us to target her next,” Colt stated.

A scoff escaped you, “Yeah, I thought that was kind of obvious.” You tilted your head as your finger caressed the picture of the woman. You had to admit, she was definitely very good-looking. Her name was Nami, huh? Interesting name. You didn’t hear much like it in all the places you’d been to so far.

Your comment was not appreciated by Colt. He had a look of anger on his face as he bent down to look you in the eye. Feeling this breath on you, you looked up at him with a bored expression. This ticked him off a little more, “Are you going to take this seriously?” He gritted out. “You messed up with the last target.”

“We got the money in the end!” You exclaimed. That was all you’d been hearing since your last scam was up. “You messed up this time.” “Don’t get so distracted.” “Keep your head clear.” “Do you want the Boss to find out about this?” It was always the same thing with him. You were getting sick of it.

He was getting sick of your attitude, “We almost didn’t!”

This is when Lola stepped in. If you had a favorite out of the two, it would definitely be her. She was kind of like a mother figure to you. She took care of you, looked out for you, and even stood up for you when Colt was being a bitch. You didn’t think you would have survived in this game as long as you have without her by your side. As those two went off to argue away from you, you continued to look over the file with that same bored expression on your face.

At first, you thought this would be some kind of big break. You wouldn’t have to go through any more unnecessary suffering. You could finally do something that could help your future. You didn’t want to be one of those people who scraped together everything they had to get by. You wanted to be someone who was well off and didn’t have to worry about material things. If you asked the younger you, the you that was just getting into these scams, you would’ve told future you that you were having the best time of your life. Now? Well, it’s different now.

Asking you now would get you a much different answer. You were tired. Tired of pretending all the time. Tired of forcing yourself to fall in love with small things about the people you’re scamming so you don’t lose your mind. You just wanted to breathe for once instead of huffing for breath because you’ve been running for so long. But it wasn’t that simple. People don’t leave the Boss. You’re in it for life, or you die. It was that simple.

You wondered what this poor girl did to have the Boss target her. Colt and Lola walked into the room at that moment. Might as well ask, “Why does the Boss want us to go after her?”

Of course, the first thing Colt said was, “Are you questioning the Boss’ decision?” From how much Colt talked about the Boss, you would think he was obsessed with him. That he might look up to him in some way. That was far from the truth. He was terrified of the man. Terrified of losing his life if he doesn’t comply with whatever demand the so-called deity might throw out.

All the answer you gave him was a, “Really?” look. Thankfully, Lola, being the angel she was, answered your question, “Nami works with Arlong and his fishmen. They’ve been doing business with the Boss for a while, but lately, they’ve been working with one of the Boss’ enemies. He wants you to get close to her,” You gave a look of interest to Lola. Why did she only include you in that statement? “Colt and I have been ordered to get close with other members of Arlong’s crew.”

“So this one you do on your own,” Colt spoke up. His expression was stern, and his voice was commanding, “Don’t screw things up this time.”

“I won’t,” You sighed annoyedly.

That’s what you said. That’s what you said.

It didn’t take much planning to meet Nami. You bumped into her “on accident” on the island she’d been on for a little bit of time. She was originally from Coco Village, according to her file. But the island she was on was not Coco Village. It was close to it but still pretty far. There was one thing that surprised you. It was how forthcoming she was toward you.

She acted like she didn’t mind having you around. It was like she enjoyed your presence. This puzzled you a bit. From what you’d read about her, she was closed off. Nami wasn’t one to just accept anyone the moment they said hi to her. But she did exactly that with you. It was then that it hit you. She was using you like you were using her.

Now, this was something you were supposed to have reported to Colt and/or Lola as soon as you figured it out. They would need to tell the Boss about it so they could all figure out how to tread with the scheme. You didn’t tell them anything about it. It was interesting to you. How she knew you were using her and decided to use it to benefit her in the end. You think the moment you figured that out was the moment it started it all for you.

Over time, it began to get harder and harder to pretend. You could tell it was getting harder for Nami as well. It wasn’t because you couldn’t tolerate each other. It was far from it, actually. You were beginning to get way too close, too invested, too… You were falling so deep, and so was she. It was a dangerous game. Two players got too swept up in the game, and now the game was playing them. You should’ve stopped.

But you didn’t.

This should’ve stopped you, but it only pushed you to go further. The two of you became a couple. A couple with honest-to-god, real feelings for each other. You never told her about the Boss, or Colt, or Lola. She never told you about Arlong and the fishmen. None of that mattered to you. All that mattered was who you were with each other.

So once the two of you got dragged along with a boy in a straw hat. Things started to come to light. Specifically, when you ended up at the restaurant called Baratie and Arlong showed up. Nami revealed to them all that she was working with him. She looked at you for your reaction. She was only met with an understanding look. She knew that you knew.

And you were one of the main people leading the crusade against Arlong to help her. For someone that the Boss had it out for, he wasn’t that intimidating. Sure, he was big and had a nose with sharp spikes, but he wasn’t the worst that you’d ever seen. When he saw you standing with Nami and Luffy, ready to fight against him, you could tell that he wanted to see it all fall apart for her.

That’s probably why he stared pointedly at you and said, “You do know what she was doing with you, right?” You remained straight-faced. “She was using you. She was telling me everything that you told her so I could finally get out of the damned deal with the Boss.” A smirk was on his face. He was ready to see the betrayed expression on your face.

A smirk of your own grew onto your face, “I know… And frankly, I don’t care.” You and the girl smiled at each other. You weren’t supposed to actually fall in love with your target, but you did. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

[deke-rivers-1957]

Clambake Review

This is often considered to be the worst Elvis film ever made. Even Elvis himself allegedly hated making the film. However, it's most likely because of the fact that Elvis suffered from that infamous concussion just before filming started. A lot of fans who watched this film say that you can see Elvis is ailing. Does his acting suffer because of it or just fan projection? Let's find out.

We immediately start off with the titular song "Clambake". For a movie that takes place in Miami, you wouldn't associate the city with clambake. Or oil rigs. But we don't live in this movie's reality because both of those things exist in Miami apparently. While it is true that Native Americans in Florida developed a technique referred to as a "clambake", a traditional clambake is predominantly held on the Northern East coast. They could've just as easily reused New Orleans if they wanted to include both of those elements.

This is easily one of the worst outfits Elvis ever worn. Scott would never wear this. Based on his character he'd want to be as far away from it as possible. It makes more sense for Tom Wilson to buy this when they switch identities. I know he has to wear something at the beginning to show that he's rich, but I would've used a different outfit.

Charlie Hodge cameos at the barber and gets a line. Imagine my surprise to see that we have an actual character arc that's setup. We understand who Scott is and why he's here in Miami. He's the son of an oil tycoon and wants to make a name for himself. He had a fiancee but he left her when it was clear she only cared for his money. We now have a clear reason to support his identity swap.

I don't hate this Prince and the Pauper type of plot, I just don't like how it's executed. Heyward Oil is everywhere somehow and yet no one recognizes Scott just by the face alone? Sure he's not the head of the company but they recognize his name so they had to have seen him at least once. Maybe I'm missing something, but I think this would've been better if Tom Wilson was played by an actor that looked more like Elvis. Impossible I know, but if Elvis had body doubles in movies, I think it could've been done.

"Who Needs Money" is a terrible duet. Elvis' vocals of course are fine but Tom Wilson's dubbed in vocals just doesn't work. The film doesn't grind to a halt because of this duet, but it's still not a rememberable song. I get that we needed a duet to show that Scott and Tom are both doing this for their own personal gain, but Tom Wilson needed different vocals for this song to be just average. It's also made abundantly clear that Elvis isn't in Miami to film this with the overuse of rear screen projections.

When we get to the hotel, the scene where Jamison is talking with the women is so bizarre. Some of the women's dialogue sounded either effected (meaning they purposely put on a type of voice that suggests bad acting or bad direction) or were dubbed in. It just didn't sound like they were recorded the same way Jamison's voice was recorded. The water-skiing scene also has so much dead air that we're watching Elvis' and Shelly's doubles ski at a far angle shot with no audio outside of the boat's motor. It lasted too long and could've been redone as it just wasn't engaging.

Given that Elvis wasn't actually in Florida, at least this scene has a real background. The lighting naturally matches the time of day it's supposed to be in and they all look like they belong there. I really like Elvis' outfit though as you can at least justify long sleeve shirts with "it's night time so it's going to be cooler".

"A House That Has Everything" is fine. It allows for Scott to seemingly bond with Dianne over being poor. As much as I love Scott's part of this relationship, I just don't understand why he's in love with Dianne. She basically admits to being a gold digger, which Scott wanted to get away from. I understand the point of the movie is that she falls in love with Scott for who he is, but Scott being interested after she admits to being the one thing he wanted to avoid just doesn't make sense to me.

I do appreciate that the movie wants us to dislike Jamison by making him act like a pig for ignoring Dianne's pleas to go away. I also appreciate that this movie didn't go down the path of most Elvis films and have Scott try to fight him ultimately getting him in trouble. Instead we get shown that Scott disapproves of Jamison's actions, but also acknowledges that Dianne's a grown woman who can take care of herself.

For once we have a mid 60s Elvis film that has him have the emotional maturity to know when to pick his battles. I also admit that as much as I don't like his romantic interests in Dianne, I really enjoy seeing him wanting to respect her choices and help her. He's willing to just be a companion and doesn't let any negative feelings for Jamison interfere. A cliched love triangle would've had Scott try to sabotage Jamison to make him look bad in front of Dianne, or Scott try to convince Dianne that Jamison is no good only for her to ignore him. He doesn't do any of that and instead just let's the chips fall where they lie.

This song was easily the worst scene in the entire film. "Confidence" is embarrassingly over 5 minutes long. The editing is just bizarre with a shot that is completely upside down and a clip of the US Calvary. It's so long that there was a stretch of time that Scott isn't even singing. We're just following him and Tom Wilson play with children. Even Red West, cameoing as the ice cream gets involved in playing with the kids for literally no reason. I kid you not, it was so bad that my besties who saw the film with me all had a mini breakdown at how awful and long it was.

I can see why fans say you can see Elvis is struggling in this film. Watching this scene is like watching a man mentally regress to a child's age right before your eyes. What makes it worse is that this scene has absolutely no impact on the plot. Him singing with the kids doesn't make Dianne see Scott in a new light the way, nor do any of the kids help Scott with his boat in anyway. Outside of a throwaway line about having confidence, nothing from this scene was ever mentioned again. This scene's only purpose is to provide filler to pad out the run time.

A ride up of over 2 inches or so should never happen with clothes. That's a sign of how cheap this film was. They couldn't even bother to give Elvis a turtleneck sweater that properly fits. This whole scene is just cringy mid 60s beach party aesthetics. "Clambake" as a song is bad in that I literally couldn't understand a single word of the beginning.

The dancing in this scene isn't good and the colors in the scene hurt my eyes. The only reason why I say this song is better than "Confidence" is that there's an actual reason for this song to exist. Despite being geographically inaccurate, a clambake event was mentioned earlier in the film. Scott would want to be there because he knows Dianne would be there and just in general wanted to have fun.

I like this montage of Scott developing the goop. The whole concept of Scott wanting to make his own product is brilliant. He wants to prove that his idea can work even if his dad didn't. It adds another dimension to his character without having to include his dad. He's a genuinely intelligent man who isn't depicted as a pathetic dork or an absolute kill joy.

This gives us a rare showing of Elvis playing a character that doesn't just rizz up girls, or fights people. He also isn't a bumbling, misfortunate character that is passive to the events around him. Here, Scott's actively choosing to do this. He's making the best use of his privilege and education to not only help out a struggling boat owner, but also create a product that shows that he's more than just his dad's money.

This dynamic only makes me think that Scott is too good for Dianne. He isn't just being a decent human being and therefore deserves to be with her by default. He's actively helping a woman he barely knows get with another man by giving her advice. The fact that she's still interested in Jamison after he refused to respect her boundaries indicates that she literally only cares about his money. I know that's the point of her character arc, but watching this only makes me think that Scott deserved better.

"You Don't Know Me" only solidifies that opinion. The entire song is literally Scott lamenting that Dianne doesn't know who he is. While part of it is on him for purposely hiding his true identity, Dianne basically uses him as a tool to get Jamison to notice her. She doesn't really take the time to get to know Scott on even a friendly basis. That one night on the beach just isn't enough to say that she knows enough about Scott to even be his friend. You really feel bad for Scott because he's in a one-sided relationship with someone who doesn't seem interested in him outside of what he could do for her.

It's little moments like this that make me appreciate Scott as a character. He's so dedicated to making this product work that he works through the night and falls asleep at his work station. He isn't even doing it to impress Dianne either. He's had this idea before he even met her. He genuinely wants to help Mr. Burton and prove that his product can work.

"Hey, Hey, Hey" is a terrible song. It's similar to "Clambake" in that it has bad dancing and similar to "Confidence" in that it just comes completely out of nowhere. It also just doesn't work with Scott's character. He's only shown interest in Dianne so even though he's not committed to her, it doesn't make sense for him to give every woman a kiss. I get that it's meant to be a montage of Scott getting help to finish the boat, but the song just feels unnecessary. Each woman's reaction to his kiss is obviously dubbed in as the actress' reaction doesn't match the noise she makes. You could just as easily convey that in a way that's similar to when Scott recreated his goop.

I was absolutely shocked at how good this dynamic was. Mr. Heyward had a big beef with Scott for leaving the way he did. He was so upset that Scott took stuff from his company without asking him, that he had to be confronted. At first you think this is the cliche dad that just doesn't get his son wanting to be his own man or even bothered to know what Scott liked. Scott's relationship with Mr. Burton made me think that this was the case. However, Mr. Heyward ultimately isn't that cliche.

Mr. Heyward knows his son more than anyone else. When he found out that Tom Wilson was acting like a party animal who smoke and drank, he immediately knew that this wasn't Scott. For a time period where it was more common for a man to smoke and or drink, Mr. Heyward outright being confused to hear that "Scott" did this shows he knows his son. He really does care about Scott, but is just upset at the way Scott chose to handle his feelings. When given the chance to confront him about it, Mr. Heyward said his part and let Scott have his say too. Even though he still didn't fully believe in Scott's product, he still wanted to let Scott try. Ultimately a very well written tension that didn't give you the idea that these two outright hated each other.

This part of the movie has the most amount of tension. There's a proper build up of the audience and Scott realizing that Jamison wasn't a good person worth Dianne's affection. Watching Jamison put the moves on her when she said no, is the nail in the coffin for the audience. For Scott, since he didn't see the same things we do, he wouldn't get upset at Jamison for that reason. He knew Jamison wasn't the best person when he forced Dianne to go out with him in exchange for her missing bra. He didn't interfere because he knew that he would've gotten in trouble because Jamison was rich and he was working as an employee.

Here he had the emotional maturity to not put up a stink when Dianne was with Jamison. He didn't even fight him after she left the room. It wasn't until Jamison essentially threatened him first, that Scott had enough and punched him. As soon as Jamison went down, he left. He had the emotional maturity to know that he put Jamison in his place. Nothing else needed to be done as there was no reason to keep punching him. Punching an unconscious man is no longer self defense and is just meaningless violence. Scott understanding that in spite of his own feelings is a refreshing thing to see in a character.

"The Girl I Never Loved" is the best song in the movie. Scott's lament that he'll never be able to tell Dianne how he feels is so sad. He's so adamant about not wanting to interfere in her relationship with Jamison, that he's willing to make himself suffer. He accepts that she doesn't have feelings for him, but he also still lets himself feel hurt about it. That being said, Dianne giving up her scheme and wanting to just go home feels a little forced. Like she doesn't even want to stay because Scott was a good friend. She just wants to go because Jamison ended up not working out.

I just feel bad that Scott went through all this work only for Dianne to not seem that enthused. Mr. Heyward only wants the best for his son so if the goop works, he couldn't be any happier and supportive. Tom Wilson and his girlfriend are genuinely excited to be at the race watching him. They really want Scott to win because they know he worked so hard on the boat. Dianne just doesn't look all that emotional for him and I wonder what would've happened if Scott ended up losing. Mr. Heyward and Tom Wilson I feel would've still supported Scott. They know how hard he worked on it even if it didn't pan out as he thought. I just can't say the same for Dianne. I'm not sure if it was an acting issue or a writing issue, but I just don't feel the same passion she has for Scott that he does for her.

This hurts me. When I think about the low production value of this movie, I think of this. First off no license would ever have a picture like that. If it has a picture it was to be front on not at this weird angle. Also his name's spelled wrong! If you look at the signs for his father's company it's spelled Heyward. The worst mistake though is that Elvis has blue eyes! Why do you mark Scott as having brown eyes when he clearly doesn't have them? This whole scene summarizes the lack of effort put into making this look like Miami. Florida doesn't have any mountains and if anything, Miami is actually prone to flooding and sinkholes because of the low altitude.

Regardless, I actually like how this film ended. The whole point of Scott switching identities in theory was to find someone who loved him for his personality and not just his money. Was doing that right at a stop light the best time to do that? No but in general for a mid 60s Elvis film, we didn't get a stereotypical final number to close out the film. It could've been executed better but we actually get the plot point of Dianne not knowing who Scott is wrapped up. I still don't think Dianne and Scott will work out. They don't know anything about each other and Scott kisses her once after he asks her to marry him. I'm happy for Scott that he got what he wanted, but I honestly think he still deserved better regarding his love interest. It really shows just how much of a real person this character was that you would feel something like that.

This movie is so baffling. On one hand yeah, I totally agree with fans that say this is the worst one. The complete lack of attention to geographical detail and the most blatant case of run time padding make this absolutely frustrating to watch. On the other hand Scott surprisingly has one of the most complete character arcs I've seen where every choice he's made has made sense to his character. His ballads and emotional maturity were quite refreshing to see. He actually makes me care enough to say "you deserve to find someone who loves you. Dianne isn't good enough for you king".

That being said, I give this film a 5/10. There's just too many issues to say that this is a good film. However, I truly think if this script was redone and a different creative team made this movie, it might be one of Elvis' best ones. In fact, as long as you skip "Confidence" and are someone who can forgive production errors easily, I would actually recommend watching this Elvis fan or not. Scott's character arc has enough good elements to make it worth watching.

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

AN: Thank you @georgefairbrother for requesting this film. Also shout out to @arrolyn1114 and @xanatenshi for watching this film with me. Your input was much appreciated. I currently don't have anything planned on what to review next. If anyone wants to request an Elvis film feel free to send it in.

Tagging: @lynettethemadscientist, @motht-eeth, @ash-omalley, @spooky-hazex, @oh-my-front-door, @father-of-2cats, @stormie-ryan23, @yksuwyksud, @tacozebra051, @alienelvisobsession, @vintageoldsoul, @ohmygiddd, @lovininapinkcadillac, @stephthestallion, @mistyspresley, @bisexualwvtson, @karel-in-wonderland, @moonchild-daniella, @musiclover712, @worldofyns, @sillybookmarks, @g00d2balive, @leighpc, @generoustreemystic, @peskybedtime, @thetaoofzoe, @renegadewarrior, @vintagepresley, @tupelomiss, @myradiaz, @pinkcaddyconfessions, @kiankiwi, @presley72elvis, @delulubutidontcare, @elvispresleywife, @ilivebecauseiamforced, @jaqueline19997, @richardslady121, @if-i-can-dream-of-elvis and @lookingforrainbows.

[remyfire]

Her giggles come unbidden, brought about by an idle thought and hastened with the fizz of the seltzer in her singapore sling. She presses the cards to her face, nearly leaves lipstick stands on her full house before resurfacing. "Sorry, sorry, a funny thought just came to me," she explains through her chuckles. "Before we were going steady, Beej let me guess what his name meant and the very first name I tried, you'll never guess." She doesn't give them a chance to, giggles increasing as she leans over and squeezes Hawkeye's hand. "Benjamin John! How funny is it that in the end, I got a Benjamin and a John after all, hey?"

(this did actually happen in our DMs and it's before I had ever once mentioned Trap's or Hawk's birth names to Christina and I have the screencap to prove it and it's extremely funny. Anyway, this is a self-indulgent, plotless character study with fun, fluffy quad building, so THANK YOU)

The laughter, golden as sunshine, makes BJ smile before Peg says a word. In theory, they keep their hands to themselves when they're playing—there's a 50/50 chance that if any of the four around the table reaches for someone, there'll be claims of attempted cheating or fraternizing with the sole purpose of distraction—but he's tipsy enough that he can't stop himself from reaching to lightly cup her forearm, thumb brushing over her wrist.

He's still getting used to how natural it feels, having Hawk's foot resting on his own beneath the table. Hawk's got one of Peggy's silky robes tucked snug around his lean shoulders, one of Trap's tanks on under it. Beej hasn't made it easy on the man across from him since his late arrival to the house, but with just enough bourbon in his blood, he can even admit that the table doesn't feel right without Trapper's money being tossed into the pot.

He studies Trap's face, tracking the faint quirk of his brow as he considers his cards before finally raising the pot, and BJ files it away.

When he starts catching Peg's words again, he rolls his eyes affectionately. "Oh no," Beej murmurs, almost drowned beneath Hawk's sound of delight. It's an old story, but one he hadn't quite put the significance together about until today, and he chuckles as he studies his hand yet again. When Peg's chips join the pot, BJ chucks in his own.

"You're not serious?" Trap asks with a laugh of his own.

"It's not the first time she was a little psychic." BJ finally claims one of her hands and presses a kiss to the back of it. "Maybe one of the more regrettable times in the end, though—"

Trapper leans slightly over the table. "Y'know, Hunnicutt, if I didn't know better, I'd think I wasn't welcome here."

"Only took two months of living here rent-free before you started picking up on my tone," Beej drawls. "Impressive."

It really is a sign of how things are shifting that Trap just smirks, that for one of the first times in recent memory BJ is the one to break the contact instead of holding it in an adrenalizing game of dominance.

"It makes a weird kind of sense, doesn't it?" Hawk points out. He lazily rests his chin on his palm, the game briefly forgotten—now that they no longer have to play just to survive the long and aching hours of imprisonment, there's room for these languid chats. Erin's tucked in bed. They've got hours to kill yet, a whole weekend ahead of them, and only BJ's due in at the hospital late tomorrow night.

"What does?" BJ asks.

Hawk grins at him, eyes sparkling. "That you found her first." He gestures vaguely to him with his cards, glancing over at the other two. "Beej always takes first pot, the lucky bastard,"

The words warm something in his chest. There are nights like this when BJ can't even remember who 15-year-old him was, that kid with an aching hole in his chest, skittish in his family home, keeping his distance from anybody who wasn't on his athletic teams so he wouldn't lose his chance at college by getting distracted.

There's a lot that can be said about how he and Peggy Hayden collided in that high school drama class. He's not sure either of them will ever be able to truly plumb into the depths of how inextricably they tangled their sense of self around each other at such a young age, nor does he know how long it'll take for them to loosen their orbits until the sight of Peg looping her pinkie with Trap's as she leads him down the hallway to his bedroom no longer fills Beej with that primal desire to reclaim her.

But he's also not sure how that anxious, angry kid would've made it out alive if he hadn't had her light illuminating that long, dark path until he was forced to discover how to make his own without her.

Now, he knows he can. He could glow all on his own without her, without Erin, without Hawk.

He simply doesn't want to.

BJ gets lost in Peg's eyes as he rests their joined hands against his cheek to the tune of Hawk's chips joining the pot. "Maybe I took first. But we've all got a pretty equal share now, don't we?"

Just as the soft words leave his mouth, he catches that edge of her smirk, and he knows. He knows before she even puts down the full house.

As Hawk howls in irritation and Trap tosses his own hand down, BJ shakes his head with a heavy sigh. "Okay, fine, I take it back. She always wins everything in the end."

"But you love me," Peg teases, and Beej loops back into her orbit just for a taste of her lips before she starts gathering the chips for sorting.

"I do." He tucks her hair behind her ear, pleased as punch. "We all do."

"Son of a bitch," Trap murmurs as he gets to his feet. He grabs his empty glass, then Hawk's, stealing a quick kiss from him as he walks behind his chair. "You want another, Peg?"

"I'm good!" She all but wiggles in her seat as she stacks. "This is fun~"

"You say that every time, you cute, little hustler." Hawk leans across the table, and she meets him in the middle with a quick smooch of her own. He chases her when she tries to pull back, and as she squeals and grins against his mouth, BJ shakes his head and picks up his own empty glass.

He meets Trap by the bar, their arms brushing as Beej reaches for the bottle of bourbon.

"Hey." When Trap speaks, they lock eyes. Trapper leans into the counter, his body nearly cupping BJ's own. "What does it stand for, anyway?"

A month ago, he would've been inclined to tell him to go fuck himself. Maybe even a week ago. But something's different on his tongue tonight—something he blames entirely on the bourbon, nothing else.

So when BJ lets, "Anything you want," slip off his tongue, it's more fluid than the last time he said it. Looser. Sweeter. And as he departs the counter, he feels the faint tug at his shirt.

Instinctively, he twists out of Trap's loose grip, and the other man lets him go. As BJ backs up three slow steps, he lifts his brows in silent question. Trap doesn't fill the silence. Doesn't come after him either.

They watch each other, long and hard, before BJ disappears around the corner with an oddly fluttery heart.

[presidentstalkeyes]

You mentioned that Stan has a bunch of Archetypes in the Gravity Falls/Psychonauts crossover, can we please get some more info on them?

Now this is still a work in progress - in fact it was this question that got me actually thinking about this. :V

We know that Stan has a lot of false identities, each of them with their own documents and personal history. We also know from what we see of his mindscape that he's clearly a master of compartmentalizing, neatly filing away all of his thoughts into boxes - probably a reflection of his history of only revealing what he needs to and keeping everything else under close guard, whether it's for his personal safety or for the safety of his 'rescue Ford' mission.

In this AU where's a psychic, this serves an additional purpose - indeed, he's been to his own mindscape thanks to not only the Psychic 6/7, but an earlier fling with a psychic cult while he was living on the streets (long story). He keeps everything so organized and guarded in case anyone were to intrude, looking for his secrets. That's why Bill Cipher had such a hard time finding the code to his safe, in spite of his enormous power that should make such a task completely trivial. Sasha Nein would be in envy of this level of control. :V

He'd already developed a lot of his Archetypes before Cassie tutored him in Projection, albeit unknowingly. His false identities, always starting out as blank slates, usually a name, date of birth and hometown, which he would gradually add to over time - more natural that way. By the time he'd learned what psychic archetypes are, many of them had developed into full-blown characters of their own.

Like Stetson Pinefield, who dreamed of winning the Kentucky Derby but broke his leg when a horse box fell on him and could never ride again, or Andrew '8-Ball' Alcatraz who fled his home country under that name (a double-layered false name, just to throw people off even further - his 'real' name was Sergio Perez) to avoid getting caught up in a civil war, or Hal Forester who just wanted to raise money for a tree sanctuary.

Turned out to have been a big help when he was running the Shack - he didn't use his powers much because he was pretending to be his non-psychic twin, but occasionally he'd find some use for his old false identities, like tricking 'old friends' into going the wrong way, or the cops, or just to scare the bejesus out of some tourists. Well, that and letting him easily break into government toxic waste dumps. And he had to admit, sometimes he'd just talk to them for no reason. Okay, a lot of the time. Almost every day back before he found Soos and then had no more use for his 'imaginary friends' (yeah, he has some internalized psycho-phobia too, blame Filbrick).

There was one archetype he created completely unintentionally, though, one he only ever brought out when in his lowest moments: Stan Pines.

A replica of the man he was on that fateful day when he pushed Ford through the portal. The man he was before he faked his death and became Ford. 'Stanford Pines' ousted him as his 'true' identity, but his old self still lurks around, waiting for things to return to normal. He's been waiting for over 30 years.

[enterthecuttlezone]

2 a.m. in Little America and Target

2 a.m. in Little America is a novel by Ken Kalfus set in the near future, in which the main characters are Americans that have become international refugees due to a new American civil war. Kalfus is very deliberate about not getting into the specifics-- the protagonist’s home town, home state, and new countries of residence remain unnamed throughout the whole book. We never know which “side” of the war the protagonist was on (he considers himself apolitical, but does admit that even those who didn’t want to take a side knew what side they were on), or even what the beliefs of each of those sides were. I expect the contemporary reader can take a pretty good guess, but the unnamed-ness forces you to think of the conflict from an outside perspective, or flip perspectives multiple times.

This is why it’s particularly noticeable when we do see a proper noun. There are only four named characters in the present and two or three who exist only in the past, and really, three of these names are likely aliases of the same person. And, most importantly (for the purposes of this post), there is only one brand name ever mentioned: Target.*

Kalfus makes a big point about how seamlessly American consumer culture integrated itself into both the war and the mass emigration caused by it. In this world, abandoned superstore buildings (like Target) were used by militants as makeshift prisons for their enemies-- but the kicker is that each side of the war displayed a preference for specific brands. This had been true before the violence started, when in the protagonist’s high school you could tell people’s political beliefs by the clothes and haircuts they wore, as well as after (”after”), in the American enclave in the foreign city, where the breed of dog you owned told what side you supported. By the time of the novel’s “present,” Target doesn’t just mean stuff, it means a place where Side A committed atrocities against Side B. Perhaps at this point, Target just means Side A.

At the back of the book, there’s a page about the publishing company, Milkweed Editions. Part of it reads thus:

Milkweed Editions, an independent nonprofit publisher, gratefully acknowledges sustaining support from our Board of Directors; the Alan B. Slifka Foundation and its president, Ruva Ariella Ritvo-Slifka; the Amazon Literary Partnership; the Ballard Spahr Foundation; Copper Nickel; the McKnight Foundation; the National Endowment for the Arts; the National Poetry Series; the Target Foundation; and other generous contributions from foundations, corporations, and individuals.

Target is one of the corporations providing funds to this publishing house.

Obviously this novel is not an advertisement for Target. (If it is, I’m walking in front of a train.) Very poor marketing strategy to associate your brand with torture and murder and such. The same reason Apple doesn’t allow their products to be shown in the hands of villains in movies, I assume.

So what I want to know is, did Target’s money have any influence on how the brand was used in the story? What was the reason for naming this one brand and none of the others? What exactly is the reader supposed to take from this, and is that different from what the reader should take from it?

If I ever meet Ken Kalfus I’d like to ask him these things, but since I probably won’t, I figure I could ask you all, since you’re good at coming up with ideas. What do you think?

*I’m 99.9% sure it’s the only brand name ever mentioned. If I missed one, kill me, but also, I feel like I still have a point because of how much more important Target is to the story than any other named brand.

[honestgrins]

if you're doing prompts... Mates Trope?! something during s1-2 of TO where part of the reason the wolves (or maybe just the elders who are very righteous about tradition) don't trust klaus is because he wanders around with everyone but his mate (which for this purpose i guess they can sense when a wolf is mated)

Oh || Klaroline

Elijah frowned deeply. “I’m not sure which scenario would be less tolerable to the pack, you being disrespectful to the mate bond or being mated to a vampire.”

Cradling the noticeable swell of her baby bump, Hayley snorted. “I might very well be carrying the next alpha with his disrespectful ass, so they’ll get over it eventually,” she pointed out. “But the vampire thing is always going to be a problem.”

“Not if Miss Forbes stays away from New Orleans.”

That was the crux of it, truly. Whether or not he had a mate, there was precious little Klaus could do about it in the eyes of the pack while she gave his city a wide berth. Honestly, her absence would likely make it all easier for them to swallow - perhaps to forget entirely with a few generations of distance. The thought left a hollow feeling in his chest, one far more noticeable since learning of his…predicament.

Learning he was to be a father after a millennium of running from the only one he’d ever known had been difficult enough. He’d ingratiated himself into the fabric of New Orleans in order to situate it to his needs, even softening the wolf pack to the idea of his leadership outside of the traditional hierarchy - at least, until he returned from Mystic Falls with a freshly established mate bond he apparently left behind.

A mate bond he could only imagine began with a defiant kiss and a slow-rising smile as bright as a sunlit afternoon.

Unfortunately, he didn’t know a thing about it until Hayley broke the news as to why the pack had turned against him. It was small comfort to know her use as a direct line in the camp, but he needed more. He knew so little about life as a wolf, that having been denied him for so long. “How can they know that I’ve found my mate?” Suspicion was a long-earned habit, and nothing was adding up. “How can they sense it here when I had no idea with her right in my arms?”

With a delicate cough, Elijah leaned forward to take some of his focus off Hayley. “I understand this is a difficult revelation, and there’s much to be learned about the mate phenomenon. However, I feel there’s a decided advantage in ensuring Miss Forbes is a non-factor in the politics of the city.”

His hand was around his brother’s throat before he could consciously think to do it, his hybrid strength more than enough to pin Elijah to the wall. “Stop. Talking.”

“Klaus.” Hayley’s voice was shaking, and her hands now covered her belly in a protective gesture. “You feel it now, don’t you? The need to protect her above all else?” She stood slowly, careful not to spook him further. “Even over your own brother?”

With excruciating control, he loosened his grip, finger by finger. “Alright,” he breathed once he could manage it past the sudden onslaught of rage. “I’m listening.”

.

“Caroline, you’re up!”

For at least the third time that afternoon, Caroline reminded herself there were too many witnesses at the Fall Festival to eat her sorority sisters. "I'm all for scamming money out of sleaze bags in the name of philanthropy, but I still think there are better ways to go about it than a kissing booth."

Amber just scoffed. "Suck it up, pledge, we all had to pay our dues," she said, divesting herself of the Gamma blue sash that said Kiss me! and handing it to Caroline. "If it helps, there's a total hottie in line. I almost extended my shift to get a chance at him."

Rolling her eyes, she forced a pageant smile as she slipped the sash over her head. "Thanks for your sacrifice."

"Funny," a familiar voice noted behind her. "You never thanked me for any of the sacrifices I made."

With a deep breath, she tried to make herself count to ten before turning. Call it personal growth that she made it to six when her glare fell on Klaus waiting at the booth. "I'm sorry, are we including the time you literally tried to sacrifice me? Because I'm so not in the mood to deal with you today, in case you can't tell."

"Oh my god, Caroline!" Amber looked mildly scared, but she took a step in front of her anyway, a stance she recognized from other sisters at any number of frat parties when a creep made himself known. "Who is this guy? Do I need to call security?"

She glanced back to Klaus, who remained uncharacteristically quiet as she decided what to do. Reluctantly, she met Amber's eyes with widened pupils. "Everything is fine, but someone needs to cover my shift. You never saw him, and I went home sick." When Amber obediently repeated her words, she also returned the sash. "Thanks!" she called out, quick as she was to flash away from the crowd, knowing he would follow.

Her dorm wasn't exactly a safe bet, given Elena and Damon's constant sexiling, and she didn't want to risk Bonnie catching them on campus. The only place she could think of was the wooded trail behind the chemistry building, where she found a quiet bench for them to sit. Well, for him to sit and for her to pace in front of. "We had a deal, Klaus. You weren't supposed to come back."

"To Mystic Falls," he clarified, his hands pressed together between his knees. At her decided frown, he allowed himself a sigh of discomfort. "Unfortunately, I have good reason to violate the spirit of our agreement."

She crossed her arms and waited.

He sighed again. "Sweetheart-"

"Just rip the band-aid off, Klaus!"

"I need you to accompany me back to New Orleans, and I need you to trust me enough to keep you safe," he said. With eyes intent on hers, his energy seemed barely contained, like he wanted nothing more than to grab her and go. "I would like you to do so freely. And quickly."

Her arms tightened, and she sank onto her jutted hip as she took in his plaintive request. "Points for being polite, I guess, but I doubt you would be if I were in any real danger. What I don't know is if this is you being overly cautious or just being a dick."

Rubbing two fingers at his temple, there was an ancient exhaustion in his face. "Neither of us can truly know what this is," he muttered to himself more than anything. He spoke up with more resolve. "Elijah wanted to hide you away in one of our many properties throughout the world, and Rebekah suggested a less involved plan that offered you an anonymous scholarship across the country - anything to keep you far away from me."

"Why are your siblings trying to get rid of me?" she demanded. "I didn't even do anything."

He shifted on his feet, and he couldn't quite meet her eyes. If he weren't Klaus Mikaelson, she might think he were embarrassed. "Your absence in New Orleans has been noted."

Confused, she pressed her hands to her face. "I seriously doubt that, since I've never been there. The only people I know in New Orleans is your family, and you've already established they don't want me there."

His ears flushed red, and then she knew he was embarrassed. "Hayley has found a home with nearby pack," he explained with a wince, "a pack that could prove necessary to the balance of the city. However, they are disinclined to negotiate with me at the moment."

"Gee, I wonder why. How many of them have you killed so far?"

Klaus gave a ferocious glare. "None, actually. But perhaps you missed the fact that a wolf with a known grudge against you is well placed to inform any number of enemies of your name and location."

The scoff burst out of her without permission, an absolute confidence emboldening her. "Like you'd let that happen."

Then he took a step closer, and that confidence withered into a new understanding - one that scared her. His voice lowered, soft in its menace. "Why do you think I'm here, Caroline?"

She swallowed, the tension unbearably thick between them. "I'm no one," she said, her voice shaky as she fought for the calm she felt only moments before. "Even if they could use me against you-"

"They can," he answered, deadly serious. "And they will. Maybe not now, but someday." He watched her closely; for what, she didn't know. His whole face softened whenever he found whatever he was looking for. "I'm only just beginning to understand myself," he admitted. "But you're far from no one, and I need to establish that you're firmly under my protection."

"Why?" He never really answered her questions, Caroline realized. This one, though... This, she needed to know. "Why me?"

His eyes seemed to burn with gold, and she held her breath as he stared. "Wolves know when another has found their mate, and this pack has judged my character unfit for abandoning mine."

If she weren't a vampire, she would swear her legs might collapse beneath her. As it was, her head felt suddenly light. Her mouth fell open, and she finally remembered to breathe. When she exhaled, it escaped as a sigh. "Oh."

"Yes, oh."

[stina-is-a-punk-rocker]

‘flowers in the attic’ by v. c. andrews: the weird, the wonderful, and the what-the-fuck

tw: child abuse, rape, incest- just fifty shades of fucked-up, and then some

Man, my parents’ generation grew up with some fucked-up books.

Here’s the thing: I like fucked-up. I filter out nothing on Ao3. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat is a siren’s song.

Flowers in the Attic is, all things considered, a goldmine.

It’s got its faults, sure- the prose is unnecessarily, for lack of a better word, flowery; if I had to read another ‘good-golly day’ with my own two eyes, I’d be compelled to commit arson; the whole he-raped-me-but-I-love-him-so-it-doesn’t-count sits very, very wrong with me; not to mention, why do all these fucked-up dudes have to be named Chris? Christopher Dollanganger, Christian Grey, Chris Brown… Chris Bang, you’re our only hope.

But if it makes me a sinner to adore this book, then maybe I don’t want heaven.

While certain character depictions do come off icky, there is a certain charm to Cathy and Chris, forced to grow up far too much far too quick; melancholy Cory, with his sad songs and poetic death (he died of the cold! But no! His dear mother slowly poisoned him!); Carrie, growing weaker without her other half; the beautiful mother, so blinded by greed she plots to kill her own children; Malcolm Foxworth, omnipotent and a candidate for Father of the Year (not); and where would any gothic horror be without a cruel, evangelical matron?

I’ll admit the writing did throw me off, at times. Melodrama is great, don’t get me wrong.

I’m talking about the Lorde album. In writing, it just makes me want to hurl.

But there’s a limit to florid writing, and while Andrews toed the line, she never crossed it. Flowers in the Attic just reels you back in, and for that, you can thank the plot.

The plot! Where do I begin?

… No, seriously, where the fuck do I begin?

I suppose I could start at good ole Daddy Dollanganger, that man who can do no wrong, except maybe eloping, marrying, and subsequently impregnating his half-niece. But incest, as this book will have us believe, is the least of all evils to happen.

Dollanganger, Sr. dies, leaves wife destitute with four small children; Dame Dollanganger whisks them all away to her parents; her parents are religious zealots who have disowned her for fornicating with a family member; the children are hidden away in an attic from the outside world for three (two and a half???) years; shenanigans of the whipping, mother-remarrying-and-ignoring-her-children, brotherfucking variety ensue; one of the kids fucking dies because he’s fucking poisoned by his own fucking mother; and then, in a slightly anticlimactic turn of events, they escape.

Blond brother-sister pairs in books get a bad rep. Game of Thrones, The Secret History, and now this. You guys just can’t catch a break.

Jokes aside, the way Corrine Dollanganger (Foxworth? Whatever the fuck her second husband’s last name was? It’s been an hour since I read the book, and I’ve already forgotten his name. I’m calling him Burt) went from a loving mother to a neglectful, cold, money-hungry woman was written beautifully, as was Cathy’s (and Chris’s) gradual undertaking of parental duties they were far too young to shoulder. The twins seeing Cathy and Chris as their actual parents broke my heart, and Corrine’s indifference to it all only broke me more. The gradual loss of the fear of God and authority was, uh, neat, I guess.

I wish Andrews went further with the schoolroom plot, although I admit I can’t see where she could’ve gone with it, either. I just wish she’d gone somewhere further.

About the demerits; about Cathy and Chris escaping from their prison that one time to go swimming or whatever serving no purpose to the plot that I could really see. About the gaudy language… yeah, Cathy, you Dresden dolls are tragically beautiful, ill-used angels, we got the gist the first ten times. And Cathy being somehow simultaneously naïve and incredibly mature did come off a bit :/.

All this considered, and all this to say: I’m definitely reading Petals on the Wind next.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Canary, Part 6

First

Previous

Tim had been watching her out of the corner of his eyes for a long time. It wasn’t that he was trying to be creepy or anything, he just… didn’t know why she was there. It didn’t make sense. She was relatively low on funds according to what he and Oracle had dredged up, and even Tim in all his billionaire-ness recognized that this place was more expensive than average…

So, why had she come? It wasn’t even close to the motel she was staying at.

The vaguely paranoid -- cautious, he was cautious -- part of him worried that she had somehow known he was there, but there was no way she should have been able to know that. Hell, he hadn’t known he was going to this particular cafe until he’d gotten to work and realized that there were now cameras in the breakroom and his office to make sure he didn’t drink too much.

But, really, it seemed like she was just using the free wifi that the cafe provided to write up a resume.

He relaxed and sunk back in his chair with his laptop while he did his work.

… he didn’t get to work for long.

He picked up on the slight gravel of someone putting on a voice with ease. It was high and sweet, a voice he commonly heard from customer service workers. He chanced a look back at the barista and frowned when he saw her on her phone. Not her, then.

He looked around the tiny coffee shop and cringed a little when he realized what was going on. Shady guy approaches a woman who’s drinking coffee alone? Yeah, that’s never a good thing.

He pushed his laptop into his bag quickly, slung it over his shoulders, put the cap back on his coffee cup so the guy wouldn’t be able to tell that Tim had been there for a while, and rushed over.

He rested his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Hey, bud, she said no.”

Tim watched both of them tense and their gazes were pulled to him in an instant.

Marinette glanced him up and down once. He watched her eyes lock onto his coffee cup for a second and he carefully turned his hand a little so she could see the name.

She smiled. “You’re late, Timmy. Don’t tell me you got caught up in another meeting?”

He shrugged innocently. “You know how it is.” Then, he split into a grin. “Maybe I should be the one that’s upset, though. Can’t believe you didn’t save me a spot.”

“I tried!” She whined. “He insisted!”

The man chuckled awkwardly. “I see. I’m sorry, I thought you were alone.”

She rolled her eyes. “I told you I wasn’t. Can you move, though?”

“Actually,” Tim said, because he didn’t want to sit in the window where Duke might happen to see him while on patrols. “There’s a free table back this way.”

Marinette tipped her head to the side a little before nodding. “Sure.”

She closed her laptop with a snap, gathered her things into her bag, and followed him back to his table.

That should have been the end of it. Unfortunately, the guy was still watching them. It looked like they weren’t going to be able to do work for a while if they wanted to keep up the pretense that they were friends.

She seemed to know it, too, because she sighed and rested her head on her hand with a small frown. “Guess we have to talk.”

He huffed. “Don’t have to sound so upset about it.”

“Alright. Fine.”

“Not sounding much more excited.”

She rolled her eyes and then brought a bright smile to her face. “Sure, Timmy, sounds great! Can’t wait to have a super fun conversation with you!”

“... nevermind. That’s weird. Why did that almost convince me? I knew it was fake.”

She let herself lean back in her chair, her face falling back to a slightly smug grin. “I’m Parisian,” she said simply.

Yeah. That made sense. Every Parisian Tim had had the (dis?)pleasure of meeting had had an almost unnerving amount of control over the way they presented their emotions.

He snickered. “Why the hell would you move here, then?”

She rolled her eyes. “Our psychopath was so boring. Like, dude, we get it, your wife died or whatever, that sounds like a you problem. Now, a guy deciding to become a jewel thief purely for the gimmick? Way more interesting.”

“Moral grayness is so twenty years ago,” Tim joked.

“Exactly! Give me dumbasses who are evil purely to be evil and good to be good!”

He grinned. “I can see why you like Harry Potter.”

She blinked.

He motioned to her cup. Scrawled across it in the barista’s messy handwriting was ‘He Who Must Not Be Named’.

She relaxed a little, grinning. “I just finished the books so I’m a bit obsessed. Also, every time I tell them that my name is Marinette they misspell it.”

“Don’t feel too bad, baristas are just like that. Heck, they’ve misspelled my name before.”

“... your name is Tim.”

“They spelled it with a y.”

“... why?”

“Yes. Exactly. A y.”

She giggled a little. “No, I mean why would they do that?”

“Oh. No clue. I hope they were just messing with me.”

~

The barista was wiping down the tables. It was nearing closing time and Marinette was feeling more and more sorry for the poor workers the longer they stayed. She knew that, when she had used to work at the bakery, she had always especially hated customers that were there around closing time.

Only two tables remained occupied.

She sighed when she glanced over and saw the guy was still there.

Oh well.

She looked over at Tim. “Care to walk me a few blocks in a random direction to see if we can get rid of him?”

“Certainly,” he said.

“‘Certainly’? I may not be super great with American customs yet but even I know that’s weird,” she teased.

He huffed a little. “Listen.”

“I’m listening.”

His nose scrunched. “No, wait, you weren’t supposed to call me out on the fact that I didn’t have an excuse.”

“Oh. Okay, we can try again.”

“Alright.” He cleared his throat. “Listen,” he said again, this time in a tone that mocked the one he’d said it in the first time.

Convenient. She was intent on mocking him, too: “I’m listening.”

“You’re the worst,” he complained.

She laughed. “I am so not. Joker exists.”

“You’re worse than him,” he said in his most serious voice.

She laughed harder. “No one is worse than him.”

He grinned. “I thought you liked people that were evil purely for being evil.”

“But he’s not,” she argued. “The man just decided one day that he liked the weird guy who dressed like a bat and figured that the best way to get that guy’s attention was to murder people.”

“Gotta admit, it works,” said Tim.

She shrugged, grinning. “Yeah, it does. Makes me wonder what would happen if the Big Bad Bat didn’t come, though.”

He tipped his head to the side slightly and then shrugged. “I don’t know, actually. He usually stops it in time.”

“I think he’d freak out.”

“Absolutely.”

She grinned and stretched lazily, head tipping back.

“He’s still following us, isn’t he?” Asked Tim.

“Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p’.

He groaned a little. “Great. Looks like we’re heading to the library.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You go to libraries? You could probably buy every ebook in existence and have a few billion left over.”

“One of my sisters works there, I can ask her to get rid of the guy,” he explained. “But I like libraries. There’s something quaint about them.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s nice to see how the common folk live sometimes.”

He returned her eye roll. “Not like that. I spend a lot of time staring at screens, I have a special appreciation for regular old books.”

“That’s nice. I wish I had time to sit down with a physical copy like that.”

“You see, I have this genius strategy for making time: not taking care of myself.”

“Go on, this is intriguing.”

“Well, eating and sleeping, right? Everyone thinks they’re totally necessary things otherwise you’d die or whatever. But, listen, that’s just a hoax made up by the government to perpetuate capitalism.”

She nodded eagerly. “Totally totally totally. What’s your solution?”

“Coffee communism.”

“Yes, you should use your rich boy money to lobby Congress.”

He grinned. “I totally should. But I can’t run it by my family.”

“No way! You never know who's capitalist anymore, they could be plants placed by the sleep industry to ensure that you don’t go through with it.”

He gasped. “No! You think? My own family?!”

She nodded grimly. “It’s always the ones closest to you that betray you.”

And then he broke character, snickering behind his hand. She beamed.

They reached the library and he smiled as he held the door open for her. He asked her to wait while he talked to his sister and she waved him off casually, telling him to take his time.

She pulled out her phone and pressed her lips together thinly as she made a note to head over later that night to give the man -- Henry -- his money. She’d give him a little tip because, for a moment there, she’d almost forgotten that they were just acting. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to purposely trigger herself for the sake of believability but, hey, if she was going to try and dupe one of the smartest businessmen alive into talking to her, she needed to go all out.

Speaking of Tim, she updated the file of Tim’s favorite cafes plus the probabilities of him visiting each one. It was for his oldest brother, Richie Wayne. She didn’t know why Richie was the one to ask for it seeing as he spent most of his time in Bludhaven and therefore likely wouldn’t find much use in it, but no one ever really knew why Richie Wayne did anything. The man famously had almost as much cotton between his ears as his father.

But, Richie Wayne was also just as rich as his father, so… she’d give him his file later that night after checking her math with her favorite graphing calculator.

A redhead in a wheelchair rolled past Marinette and she absently held the door open for her, only to be surprised when she cursed out Henry.

She watched as Henry held his hands up and started backing away from the woman in the wheelchair, and then he ran down the nearest alley.

(… she’d give Henry a bigger tip. The man had just wanted a tiny side job to help pay for his wife and kids that wasn’t being a henchman, he didn’t deserve this.)

She opened the door for the woman on her way back inside and mumbled her thanks. The woman nodded once and continued on her way.

Marinette leaned back against the wall again and scrolled through Twitter as she waited for Tim to reappear. Apparently, Poison Ivy was already back in Arkham. Something about an intern at the botanical gardens watering plants wrong. Wild.

Marinette felt someone sidle up beside her and, after a quick glance confirmed that it was Tim, pocketed her phone.

He smiled at her, a tote bag over his shoulder.

“Did you go grocery shopping while I wasn’t looking, somehow?”

He hesitated before holding it out to her. “It’s the French dubs of the Harry Potter movies.”

She blinked as the bag was thrust into her hands and looked down at it. Yep, that was Harry Potter in French. She also, vaguely, noted the tiny slip of paper his phone number scrawled across it.

She slung the bag over her shoulder.

“I’m never going to return these. You’re going to rack up so much debt.”

~~~

NightwingsAss9384: does anyone know why nightwing and canary hate each other?

ScareCrane: She stabbed Batman once on accident and somehow got away with blaming it on him

Daylightwing: She refuses to let B adopt her.

RiddleMeThis: They think it’s funny when their stans fight.

SignalOfficial: They said ‘I’m the only flippy bitch allowed in New Jersey’ and have been fighting ever since

Yummmmmm: He has to or else Robin will get jealous because he’s the only stabby sibling allowed

Oracle: They’re fighting over who gets to change their name to ‘The Dodo’ first.

DeadHood: Nightwing is jealous that Canary was the first one of us to think to have a full-on bird mask.

TheBetterCanary: every time i go into the batfam tag to try and avoid them all i see is his fancams

SpoilerAlert: they’re both convinced that they’re the hottest bachelor/bachelorette in gotham

NightwingsAss9384: im beginning to think no ones going to tell me.

BlackBat: :)

~~~~~

Next

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Canary taglist: @jayjayspixiepop @unoriginalmess @miraculousfanfic127 @probably-a-hologram @iloontjeboontje

[zarvasace]

A nanowrimo server I'm in does cute little end-of-nano post-a-line games to share a few things we wrote. I really like how mine turned out for HCoPA, so thought I'd share! (totally not procrastinating.) The ones I participated in were called "rainbows," "find the word," "first lines," and "playlist." These are all just selected quotes from the fic I wrote over November, which you can find here if you're so inclined.

Rainbows

(Red, Green, and Blue are character names, of course, so I did the other colors of the rainbow!)

Orange: Vio had no expression as he looked over his own numbers, peeling an orange with his fingers. "I did much worse with that."

Yellow: Their round table, one of many mismatched ones in the large dining room, had two new chairs pulled up with two new people Vio didn't recognize—a tall girl with her hair just slightly askew, and someone with a ponytail and a fashionable yellow tie.

Indigo: Shadow hummed to himself as he double-checked his addition. The red for five, the indigo for six, and the phonecian red for a whopping twenty. This was going to blow through the money he had, but... it was going to be so worth it, too.

Purple: Vio stood on stage, now, dressed in the first of the outfits Green had picked out for him—his usual trousers tucked into his tall adventuring boots, along with a shirt the perfect shade of purple, tailored to fit him across the chest better, but with absolutely massive sleeves, layers of lace that hid pockets for spell components.

Find the Word

Reference to the sun/sky/moon/stars:

"I like it when this happens," Shadow said, quieter than he meant to. "When what happens?" Shadow laughed once. "This. I don't know." "Which part?" Vio pressed, the faintest smile in his voice. "Being under a blanket? Being outside when it's cold? Seeing the stars? Not being with the others? Cuddling?" "I don't know," Shadow whined, squishing his chin into Vio's hair. It smelled like flowers from the strong soap everyone had started using to fade the dye faster. Vio's hair was a nice shade of lavender at the moment. "All of it."

Emotion word:

"You found him!" Red said, looking up as soon as they walked in. "That was quick. Oh, no. Blue, that's your guilty face. What did you do?" "I'm not guilty!" Blue snapped, defensive. "I don't feel any guilt." "But you still did something." Green hung up his coat. "All right, what was it?" Blue crossed his arms and sighed. "Broke Hector's nose. Punched him in the stomach. Got knocked over. Got detention and an essay."

Food or drink:

Red tapped the wooden spoon in his hand against the wooden cutting board like a gavel. "This supplementary meeting of the Hyrule College of Practical Arts Unofficial Baking Society is now in session. Purpose: make apple pie. Because I burned it. Again." He held up a fist and closed his eyes dramatically.

Piece of clothing:

"I thought you didn't like the cold." "I don't," Blue all but snapped back. He tucked his ears into his hat. "Why do you think I'm wearing three scarves?" Each was a different shade of blue. He was predictable, so what?

Plant or animal:

He continued moving pansies from the box beside him into the ground. The flowers had been outside, but it was cold, and these pansies weren't doing very well out there. They were so small and delicate. It was odd to think that they were alive, and could perhaps respond to stimuli around them. Vio found himself hoping they'd get better.

First Lines

(chosen more-or-less at random!)

"I have to admit," Master Gerard said, staring at the four boys in front of him over steepled, ink-stained fingers, "this is a strange situation."

"So," Red said, a notebook and pen in his hands. He sat at Vio's desk, kicking his feet against the bar under the chair. "You really didn't eat anything interesting when you were out causing problems?"

"Time for creepy dark magic ritual in the basement number two," Blue muttered, holding a lantern in one hand and a stuffed bag in another. "How did we get into this mess?"

Contrary to popular belief, Red actually did like combat. Well, sort of. He liked this kind of combat, where nobody was actually at risk of anything worse than a few bruises or maybe a broken arm. He liked seeing his brothers shine, and they didn't do that better anywhere else.

Swinging a hammer wasn't about the weight. Sure, you had to pick the right weight, but the end goal was about momentum, and more than that, it was about control. Momentum couldn't be achieved without control.

Playlist

The chapter I chose was 12, which is the one where they do magic to get Shadow, if you remember. That is this one here. I chose the song Tonight by The 69 Eyes, which has a very different genre than I expected myself to use. I chose this song because it's intense, like the chapter is, but with some hopeful lyrics.

Honorable mention for this chapter was The Dark Side by Muse. It's dramatic, talks about darkness, and I think Shadow would like Muse in general. Vibes, you know?

For the whole fic, I chose the song Hakugin by Eve, since the song just feels like nostalgia. Also, snow.

Honorable mention for the whole story goes to Comedy by Gen Hoshini, which is, in fact, the first ending song for Spy x Family, which is where I found it. The music video is adorable, though, and the whole message of the song is just domestic love, which is 100% the vibe of this fic. :)

[fanfiction-inc]

“It Takes Two to Win a Race.” Chapter II

[Previous Chapter] / [Next Chapter]

Verse: Falcon And The Winter Soldier / Captain America And The Winter Soldier / Captain America: Civil War/ Marvel Alternate Universe

Characters/Pairings: Baron Zemo/ Reader, Baron Zemo/ Female Reader, John Walker

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8971

Warnings/Tags: Drinking, smut, m/f, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, drunk sex, Google translated translations, Walker is an asshole and just keeps getting worse.

Summary: Baron Helmut Zemo, world renowned racer and your sworn enemy on the track. You two have been going at it for years now, but now you two must join forces to fight back against John Walker, a new up and coming racer who is proving to beat both of you. Will you two survive the other or meet your demise on the track?

Ao3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32606833/chapters/81176392?view_adult=true

This is a mess. An absolute, blazing mess that sits before you in the middle of your workshop. The chassis was dented all to Hell, a new one having to be rebuilt and delivered to fix your custom car. The engine had parts missing that were left at the crash sight when it was towed away. One car to your name, and it was fucked up. Maybe you should have taken Stark’s sponsorship and invested in a backup. Sitting on the cement floor of the workshop, screwdriver in hand as you pry out bits and pieces of parts from the engine, taking note of the parts and working on the budget you had set out for this year's series of races, you dreaded the moment you’d see the total cost. This repair would take a nice chunk, but you still had money left over after to make sure your car was at its best. That was the thing about working with your car, it was just you and this beast of metal and speed, working as one to reach the end of the line. The screwdriver is set down at your side when you struggled too long on getting the broken interconnecting rod that links the turbine from the compressor, a sigh following as you sit back. A slow sense of dread fills you as you look at the broken parts scattering the ground, the missing parts on your list, and the purple paint that still streaks the busted carbon fiber chassis. 

Working with Zemo was a dangerous game, which you recognized even before you shook on the arrangement he had proposed. He was wicked on the course, predictable at times but at others a ticking time bomb of what his next move may be. He was dangerous, but that is what made him damn good. He took far more risk than you usually would when it came to advancement in the race. Where you held back, he pushed forward. No wonder the man infuriated you. But this plan was the only thing you had to get things back to normal, back to the way they were where you hated Zemo with a passion and fought tooth and nail to stay better than him. You would never admit it, but without your rival, what fun was the race? See, it's not only the thrill of the chase between the driver and death, inching closer and closer with each hairpin turn and the risk of the other driver's moves. No, it’s also the thrill of having someone who wants to win just as bad as you, who is just as good and will do anything to try and progress further than you. It sets a standard, something to surpass, something to stay on level ground with when you catch yourself falling. Zemo was your equal, no matter how much you hated him. And equals like you two don’t have room for a third party to jump in and surpass. The game isn’t any fun when someone fucks with the rules. He had a point when it came to beating Walker down, especially since the man was already fighting you both with molotov cocktails and rocket fire in the form of playing dirty on the track. He was bringing a war to a battle just to see if he could come out on top. Despite everything telling you to stay away from Zemo and not get involved in this scheme, that it could end badly for one or both of you, you couldn’t stand the idea of having Walker walk all over you like some doormat. You couldn’t let him walk in as if he owned the place and could rule as he pleased. 

He needed a reality check. 

Your form pops and cracks as you stand, stiff from sitting on the solid ground and stretching to relieve your body of the tension. Everything felt so wrong, and you knew you had to make it right...But was this the right way to do it? “Jesus, you sound like that rice cereal with the little elves. You know, snap, crackle, and pop?” You laugh lightly when your friend comes into the workshop, food in hand and dressed down from the usual luxury attire he wore when visiting. No suit and tie in sight, just the oil stained wife beater you had seen him in when pursuing your education in the states as he worked tirelessly on his little toys as you liked to call them. He sets the bag down, the scent of the food causing your stomach to growl and pinch with a hint of pain. Have you really forgotten to eat today? You hadn’t noticed. “Got your favorite. Do you know how hard it is to find a restaurant that speaks English? I had to have Friday translate for me.”

“Maybe you should take a new hobby and learn the French language.” You retorted with a grin, the man shaking his head as he sets everything out. “Maybe I want you as my teacher, but you’re always busy with driving around in your fast little car and getting famous for fighting a Sokovian asshole.” 

“And you’re too busy tinkering away with your toys in your little workshop in New York. Truly Tony, don’t tell me you actually want me as your teacher when your toys can teach you for me.” You pause as he rolled his eyes, watching the man for a brief moment as he turned to unwrap his burger. “Speaking of said Sokovian connard, he came to the bar I was at last night.” The man paused mid bite on the thick patty before speaking with his mouth full. “Okay, spill, what did he want?”

“Well originally I thought he was going to cuss me and try to blame me for the failure to complete the race yesterday, but he showed me something. You know the young man who won the race yesterday, corriger? John Walker?” 

“Yeah, I know the guy. Races for the American McLaren team and came straight from F3 to F1. What’d he do?” 

He raises a brow when you sigh, taking a seat beside him on the desk he had set the food down on and stealing the dish he had brought you. “Zemo showed me proof that Walker hit his car and sent him flying into mine. And I believe he did it on purpose.” You explain, taking a bite of the food your companion got for you. You pause for a moment to chew before returning to your theory. “On my way to the car bay, he smirked at me, and it wasn’t a “I won” smirk- well, it kinda was, but it was rather a “I did this to you” kind of smirk. Not necessarily an evil one but one that showed he knew exactly what he had done and was proud of it. Pride in an unfair act.”

“And no flags were thrown up?” 

“Non, not a one. As our friend the Baron said,” you cringe at the term friend, “the ones watching the race possibly couldn’t tell if he had done such on purpose or by accident. I believe him about such. And I suppose that brings me to what I’m about to say next.” You take a breath, gaze conflicted and downcast to your food as you speak. “The Baron offered a temporary truce of our rivalry to take down this John Walker, thus allowing us to return to what we do best after Walker is taken down.” He listened intently before his nose scrunched at the idea of such. You two working together? Ha! That’d never work! “And you said yes to this crazy idea? What the Hell are you thinking, (first name)?” Your hands shoot up in defense, gaze rising to meet his own. “I know, I know! It’s a crazy idea, but you know as well as I do that if Zemo and I want things back to normal, back to the rivalry, we have to do this together so Walker is met with further resistance. If I could avoid it and deal with this American scum, no offense, then I would.” 

“Some taken, but I get it. I just wonder if you two will go back to the way things are after all of this. Who knows, maybe you’ll become that dreaded word you hate to associate with him in any capacity-”

“Ne t'avise pas de le dire, Anthony.”

“Friendssss.” He draws it out, causing you to roll your eyes at his antics and slap his arm with the back of your grimey hand. He pretended to show a hurt expression before chuckling when another slap came, this time to his chest. “Oh hush, we will never be friends.” 

“I guess time will tell.” A shrug followed as Stark finished the last bite of his burger, crumbling the wrapper and lining up the shot with the waste bin in the corner. “He shoots,” the paper lands in the bin, his arms going up in the air. “He scores!”

“Stop goofing around, ma amie. I asked for your help with this and now I need it.”

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

Three weeks have passed, and the Germany race is upon you. The Nürburgring, a beast of a track that many racers to this day in Formula 1 fear like a plague sweeping the track. Your mind has been racing as you pieced your car back together and got it ready for racing. What happens if something wasn’t installed in the engine right? What if you didn’t get the intake vents lined up just right? You were a perfectionist with your car, and you know deep down that it was ready for race day but it made your head sing with pain as a migraine sets in. That wasn’t the only thing that made it throb and bring you to lean against the chassis of your car. Zemo’s deal, it worried you sick. But you didn’t have time to think about it much today. You couldn’t dwell on it. You had a race to win. 

Your eyes flick up at the speakers, listening to the message. It was press conference time. You take your seat where your name tag and flag set, giving a nod of acknowledgement to the crowd of reporters sitting and waiting to open up questioning. To your left, Walker seats himself with a boyish, charming smile that didn’t quite meet those dark eyes. He looked your way, hand held out to you. “Hey, I hate that we didn’t get to meet earlier on. I’m John Walker.” You glance at his hand before looking back up at him. He played a good game, acting innocent like the boy scout he tried to be. You wouldn’t fall for his games, but you shook his hand briefly. “(First name) (Last name).” He grinned. “Oh, I know who you are. I’ve been watching you race for years now! I hate that you crashed a couple weeks ago, would have loved to have been standing on that podium with you.” 

“Oui, such a shame that was. But today is a new day, Mr. Walker.” Your gaze flickered to your right, startled by your rival taking his seat and looking directly at the pair of you. The Baron never sat beside you, even going as far as to request a seat change from the press conference coordinators. Some learned to keep you two separate, others knew it would incur drama, and drama made money. 

“Alright everyone, please take your seats and the conference will begin in one moment!” 

“Say, did you get your car all fixed up? Must have cost a pretty penny since you don’t have any sponsors.” Walker continued on, this time his gaze looking at the reporters as he gave a brief wave to the ones he recognized from the states. “Oui.” He gave a huff of a laugh. “Not much of a talker, are you?” You wanted to bite back, to say something and throw hands with this man, but you would be escorted out and disqualified in a snap. “Non.” A leg bumped yours under the table and you glance at Zemo who met your gaze briefly. Those dark brown eyes questioned if you were okay, a silent question that only you understood. The slightest nod was sent his way before looking at the reporters who got things settled and ready. 

“Questions are now open-” The announcer was startled with the amount of questions directed in the direction of you three, clearing his throat as he nodded to your little trio at the table. Mr. Walker!” He gestured to the reporter, watching him stand and adjust his microphone and camera. “Mr. Walker, this question is open to the three of you. Under allegations from the previous race at The Circuit Paul Ricard, many are wondering if you had caused the accident involving Zemo and (Last name). How do you feel about these accusations?” The man had the audacity to laugh and throw that boyish smile to the camera, rubbing at his face. “Look, that was not supposed to happen once so ever. As many of my fellow racers can attest, one wrong slip of the hand on your wheel and your car will eventually go off track. I got nervous, twitched, and just so happened to bump the Baron’s car into Ms. (Last name)’s car. I feel terrible, I truly do, but it could have happened to anyone with any driver. So I refute these accusations and continue to say this is an accident.” 

“And you, Baron, Ms. (Last name). How do you feel about the accusations?” The reporter gestured his question to you two now. “I respect your opinion, Mr. Walker,” Zemo began, the man smiling and sending a nod his way. “But I call, as the Americans say, bullshit.” His smile fell, darkened gaze questioning the man on what the Hell he was going on about. The reporters erupted in questioning, trying to get the attention of the two racers who stare each other down around you. You lean back a bit for them to have a better view-line, One of the American reporters calling your name. You use this moment to break the tension. “Oui?” 

“Do you believe you stand a chance as a woman against these two leading men now that John  Walker is starting to gain points and nearing your total?” You blink at his question before taking a deep breath, holding it to calm your throbbing head, and releasing it slowly. “Oui, I do. I believe I can keep up just as well as any racer. Take my racing career with Zemo. I have kept up with his old extrémité arrière.” The French reporters in the room resound in a fit of chuckles, bringing a smile to your face. “And against Walker?” You meet his gaze as he stares at you expectantly for an answer, forcing that smile he tried to use on you earlier. “I believe I stand quite a good chance, but que le meilleur coureur gagne.” You shrug, listening as the smaller drivers get asked their questions. The whole time there are eyes burning into the left side of your head, waiting until the racers are dismissed. Walker watches you as you walk out, watching the way Zemo comes up in tow as you make your way to the car bay. Something was up, and he could feel that there were clearly doubts in your mind about the accident in France. He would just have to deal with you later. “(First name), wait!” Zemo followed you into the bay, slowing from his jog to keep up with you to a stop near the desk holding your notes about the race and your vehicle. “I haven’t had a chance to talk with you in person since the bar.” He paused, looking into those eyes of yours that gaze at him curiously. “Are you ready for this, fräulein?” 

“Aussi prêt que possible, Baron.” You busy yourself with inspecting your car for any last minute changes, the man watching you as you inspect and work. “Good, good. And we are still a go, yes?” 

“Oui, we are still, as you said, a go.” He grinned at you, gaze flickering down your back as he looked over your uniform. Of course he had noticed you in all aspects before, talent and skill being the top, but never had he been this close like the night at the bar and now to really see you. Maybe after all of this, even with the rivalry, you could be friends, dare he say anything more than such. “You’re staring.” You quip, breaking him from his trance to meet your gaze. The faintest hint of color lingered on your cheeks. He coughed, trying to clear away the embarrassment lingering in his form. Why was he getting embarrassed? “Just thinking about what will be left behind when I pass you on the track, mein liebe.” Your eye roll doesn’t go unnoticed, the man relaxing due to how calm you are around him. No biting his head off, no anger, just chill. You stand and give a playful shove to his shoulder, smiling at the Sokovian. “In your dreams, Sokovian. Now, get the fuck out of my car bay.” He smiled to himself as he walked away, mind now clouded by the smile that lingered on your lips. He liked when you smiled, and he had to make sure this plan worked. 

The race was gearing up to start, the same process as before coming into play. Car, balaclava, wheel. You take your moment to breathe, today your speed has placed you in second, just as the plan entailed. Zemo took the first position. He glanced your way, sending a nod in your direction, only to smirk beneath the balaclava when you flip him off like usual. The rivalry was still on, no matter what he would still have that after dealing with Walker. Still have you in one sense or another. Your glance focused in on the man across the way in the pole position opposite of you, his eyes locked on the two of you before meeting your gaze. There he stares you down, even as his helmet slipped on. The visor was flipped down at the one minute warning, eliminating the final clarifying view of his gaze. It was clear he was cautious of you, maybe even lingering with hate. 

“Fahrer! Starten...sie ihre....Motoren!

That familiar purr settles into your chest, spreading through your body like a dam breaking and flooding the valley below. It stirs up the motivation to win once more, removing any doubt from your mind as you rev your engine. Zemo was right, Walker had to be stopped. With this attitude about racing, playing his little mind games and wrecking racers, he’d get someone killed just for first place. You couldn’t allow that...but you also couldn’t allow the rivalry you have established with Zemo to be broken because of someone else. There was too much there to be lost. Your fingers tighten around the wheel, licking your lips beneath the helmet as you prepare yourself for takeoff. The lights start counting down the race. Five seconds away, one green and two red lights. You watch them count down until the bottom lines of red are fully lit, then they flash off. You’re off, following Zemo right on the tail of his car as you start into the track. This track was a beast, your mind racing as it remembers every nook and cranny of it. Seventy three corners, eleven danger points, hair pin turns, all on a 12.8 mile long course that was deadly in the onset of any weather and people who get careless with their moves. Lucky enough, the sky was only overcast. No rain, little wind to interfere with the aerodynamics and mobility of the chassis, just the perfect chill in the air to remind you where you were in this moment. You take your turns with ease, avoiding the group of cars that began to follow suit on the track behind your own. Your eyes remained locked in on every shift to your side, Walker keeping close by within each turn and danger point you went through. 

As you drive, Walker gets up past you within one of the speed trap areas, the stretch of road allowing him to be up beside Zemo and leave you on the back of their tires. Zemo had a plan, you believed in this plan… but had he just been toying with you to get closer to Walker? Doubt clouded your mind, even as you sped up in an attempt to join the boys directly in the front. Perhaps you shouldn’t have followed this plan, even as you get through the first twenty five laps, then the next twenty five. Each turn brought your tyres closer to Walkers who eyed you cautiously from time to time, as if silently daring you to pull a move like he did. Maybe you’d be caught and black flagged. Hell, that would make his fucking day if that happened. As he watched you, he had failed to notice on the wider strip of the track how Zemo began to drift further and further ahead. Then he was side tracked, Zemo slowing abruptly and stealing the attention of the young American driver. “What the Hell!?” He yelled over the roar of multiple motors, watching your car join Zemo’s side and the original speed be resumed. Now you sat beside Zemo on the track, pedal to the floorboard as you two kept your lead and basically walled Walker in. Each time he tried to drift around, one of you would shift your car just enough to keep him locked in. A grin met your lips as you drove, the energy of the race taking a whole new shift as you got closer and closer to the last lap with your rival right at your side. Tips of the chassis lined up perfectly, rear aerodynamic fins aligned like a well oiled machine. You two were in perfect sync as you put Zemo’s plan into action. Create a wall of impenetrable magnitude. If Walker tried anything, all three of you would go down. If he tried to get around, he would be blocked. There was no getting out from behind you two. 

The checkered flag waved in the quickly approaching distance, your gaze for a moment looking at your rival. The blur of purple was steady, lined with yours like that of an air jet's flight coordination. Perfectly straight, and running at full throttle like you are. As your cars pass the finish line, debate begins to rise. It was too close in the end to call, at least not right away. You slow, allowing the purple beast to pass by and enter the pit before you, a silent gesture of courtesy to the man you worked with. He sent a small nod your way when he watched you get out of your car, helmet removed along with his balaclava and revealing the joyful grin resting on his lips. Anyone else would mistaken it for cockiness, but the look in his eyes said it all. You two did it, you beat Walker in the race! He must be furious! A breath is held on your end, helmet and the fabric covering your face discarded as you turn your gaze away from the arriving racers and the man you drove along with. You were locked in on that score board, curiosity eating at you for who may have won the race. You were neck in neck with the man, the smallest push forward could earn either of you the points for the day. No names shown yet, and you anxiously leaned on the hot surface of the carbon fiber vehicle as you waited. Each noise around you from the slow dwindle of engines to low, fading purrs to the pit crews of your respective teams surrounding you, your rival, and the newcomer were drowned out by the pounding of your heart as it flooded your ear drums. It felt like hours passed as you kept your gaze locked on, ignoring the happy clamour of your crew, the clasp of hands on your shoulder and pats on your back, even down to the ruffling of your hair in glee. Then it flashed up. 

1st: (First initial). (Last name) 

1st: H. Zemo 

2nd: J. Walker

The press goes crazy over the news, each respective country reporting their amazement over the finishing results.

“Ein fehlerfreier, aber überraschender Sieg für Baron Helmut Zemo, der mit (First name) (Last name) gleichauf den ersten Platz belegt!”

“Victoire pour la championne de France (First name) (Last name) alors qu'elle rejoint le Baron Helmut Zemo dans une rare égalité!”

“In a remarkable and truly unprecedented event in The Nürburgring F1 race! Baron Helmet Zemo and (First name) (Last name) tied in a photo finish for first place, a rare occurrence that has set back American racer John Walker from the potential for first place!”

Your breath comes out shaky, slowly slipping out as reality hits you like a wrecking ball to a brick wall. The air leaves your lungs as a happy noise rings out from your lips, joining your crew in the celebration as they hug and surround you. You placed first. Zemo placed first. Curiosity met you, your gaze looking to the man who celebrated with his own crew before allowing himself a chance to settle his gaze on you in turn. There he sent a wink, a silent congratulations that made you shake your head at his antics before refocusing on the celebration. You would be standing with the man in first place on that podium, both sharing the victory wreath and spraying champagne all over the crowd of fans and your respective pit crews who were basking in the glory just as much as you two were. You couldn’t help the glee bubbling up in your form, even as you make your way not too far from your rival. For a second, just a split second, you let the rivalry go and let your smile be seen in accompaniment with his gleeful grin, shoulders bumping when you’re positioned at the podium by the F1 management crew. Press swarm to the area like flies to a summer barbecue, wanting to catch a glimpse of the rivals standing together, being on the podium and sharing first place. “Not so bad working with my, as you put it earlier, old extrémité arrière, hm?” He questioned as you two stood together, the closeness you two were forced into for the photographers far more comfortable than it would have been under any other circumstances. He blamed the feelings he had at this moment on the victory over Walker, over the rest of the racers, not even thinking that perhaps this was beyond the fact that he won but that you, his favorite rival, won alongside him. “Non, not the worst.” You joked lightly, forcing a serious face for the cameras when they began to picture you two side by side on the first place stand. He accepted the bottle of champagne before you could, holding it out. “You may have the honor, (First name).” Your fingers brush his own as you grasp the bottle with him, popping the cork and sending the bubbly to decorate the crowd. Flash after flash met you as you stood alongside Zemo and basked in the glory of the win. “How about drinks to celebrate? Even as rivals, I believe a drink wouldn’t hurt.” He whispered the question, causing your gaze to lock on his own in brief surprise. Was he serious!? “I um..Oui, sure. Meet you in town?” He nods, gaze seeming to glimmer ever so brighter as he takes his leave. Even when you separate to get cleaned of the alcohol and switch to “civilian clothing”, your smile doesn’t falter. Maybe it would be good for you to drink the night away with company that didn’t seem as bad as you once had thought before. 

As you begin to peel away the racing suit, the flame resistant material bunching at your waist and revealing the open expanses of your back, the simplistic bra strap over the back the only material seen, you fail to hear the seething man enter your car bay. “Do you know what you just did, Ms. (Last name)? Who you fucked with?” Walker puts his hands on your shoulders, spinning you around to face him, his face inches away from yours. “You went and fucked with the wrong man. You could have just accepted your loss, licked your wounds, and we would have been just fine. But oh no, you had to go and fuck with my winning streak with that Sokovian piece of shit.” He huffed when you shove him back, gaze narrowed and arms crossing over your bra covered chest out of annoyance. You could care less what he saw. “I don’t see why you’re so mad, Mr. Walker. You got a taste of your own medicine after that stunt you pulled back in France. You and I both know that was no accident.” 

“You know what? Yeah, I did that. But I see you are working with Zemo now, which is also a big no-no in Formula 1. Seems we’re both sinners of the race. The greed of it.” His tone was a hushed, harsh whisper. There was no need to alert anyone that he was in your private quarters harassing you. “I’m nothing like you.” Your tone came out in a hiss, his downturned lips curving up into a grin at your response. “Oh sweetheart, I beg to differ.” He chuckled at the narrowed gaze he was met with. “You and your Sokovian boy toy need to back off. Let this happen like it should or you’ll not like what happens next.”

“And just what do you think you’ll do, John? Because all I’m hearing right now is a lot of talking with no proof of any big execution.” Your lazy grin and scoff of annoyance at his presence left him to raise his hands in mock defeat, hands coming to rest on your shoulders once more with a harsh grip that made your body tense and hold you there. He leaned in, even as you tried to lean away, his lips moving in close near your ear. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” His tone alone makes your body betray you, the calm, cool, and collected front slipping as a shiver ran up your spine at his warning. And with that, he leaves you to get dressed for the night. 

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

Zemo texts you an address for a bar off the beaten path in Cologne, Germany, further than you had anticipated in going from the track but a welcomed change of scenery. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” The words stick with you, even as you drive the main road into the big city, looking for the bar Zemo had invited you to. It was connected to a hotel, a fancy hotel at that, with old architecture and lavish exterior. You could only imagine the interior! A nervous breath is taken as you get out of the car, gaze meeting the man you had just won with. He smiled at you, clothing casual and the air around him feeling far more comforting now than ever. The incident with Walker had left you rattled, sending your nerve endings to buzz and let your body know that you aren’t okay. Even though you felt off, you force a smile to the man who wrapped a friendly arm around your shoulders and led you in to sit at the quiet bar. “So, did I not tell you the plan would work?”

“I just thought it was your cockiness talking, but I will admit, though it physically pains me to do so…” You pause, biting your lip. “Well?” You sigh. “You were right.” The words come out struggled and forced, the man's grin growing at such. “Ah~, I don’t believe I caught that.” “Oh va te faire foutre!” He chuckled at your words, hand raised towards the bartender to get you drinks. “What are you ordering?”

“Shots. We deserve something to toast our victory to, and I don’t believe champagne is your drink of choice.” He offered you one of the smaller glasses, his own raised before him as he locks those bright brown eyes with your own. “Ein Prost! To us, and our victory over John Walker. May that American schwein taste defeat again.” You raise your glass, hoping to drink away any thoughts about Walker's warning and leave it for the next day. Throwing caution to the wind, you decided right then and there that you would finally have fun and disregard the night that you sat across from your rival. Tonight you just wanted to drink. “À la vôtre!” The drink is bitter as it hits your throat and travels down your body, causing a warmth to spread soon after. Kuemmerling, a bitter concoction of herbaceous and bittersweet flavors. A drink of choice for Zemo it seemed because soon after the shots were downed, he ordered another round. 

Shot after shot after shot is taken down until your body is leaning against his own and a joke that is shaky at best from his part sends you into a roar of laughter. He holds you close, laughing right along with you. “So... It’s Barenjar?” He snorts at your piss poor pronunciation of the new liquor joining the mix, shaking his head at you as he looks on with drunken vision. “Nien, nien, Bärenjäger. Say it with me. Bä-”

“Bä-”

“Ren-”

“Ren-”

“Jäger!”

“Mick Jagger?” 

He laughs in defeat, shaking his head as he watched you. So relaxed, so calm. He hasn’t seen you like this before in his life. He’s startled by your sudden movements after downing your last shot for the night, catching you as you try to stand and stumble as your feet betray you. Your body landing against his, his arms slotting themselves around your waist as your drunken gaze catches his own. Those brown eyes of his are hypnotizing, keeping your gaze locked on his own. “I have something to confess, (First name).” He paused to wet his lips, trying to piece the words together in his hazy mind. “I have liked you since the day I met you.” He finally blurts out, fingers moving up to brush away a stray strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes. “You’re infuriating, yet calming. Stubborn and determined. Your smile is lovely and those eyes…” He trails off, leaving your hazy mind questioning what was going to come after, but you hardly have time to think about it as he pressed in closer, face inches from your own. The smell of Bärenjäger and Kuemmerling lingered on his breath as it fanned over your face, those brown eyes searching for something in your own. “Can you feel it, the connection we have? Can you see that we are not just rivals now?” His tone was just barely above a whisper, questioning you with a hint of desperation to his tone. 

“Oui.” 

That was the only answer he needed. His lips are on yours with fever and desperation, hands clinging to your form for dear life after hearing the words that sent him to fully fall into the feeling of you. You were his comfort, the one constant thing in his life. His rival...but right now you were the woman he sloppily kissed at the hotel bar as the bartender tried to catch his attention to tell you that you both were cut off for the night. His hands moved to grip at your thigh and tangle in your hair, abandoning the idea of holding anything back, the liquor giving him courage to make a move on you. He has wanted to do this for years, touch you, feel you, have you there with him in any way he could. He separated only when the threat of security was offered by the bartender, lips kiss swollen and a faint pant falling from them. “Come.” His hand takes hold of yours, leading you along to the lift and up to his room for the night. This hotel that he called home for the time being would serve well for what he had in mind to do to you. He led you inside, not even waiting for the door to close as he captured your lips once more, hands taking your rear in his grasp and hoisting you up so your legs wrapped around him, back pressed up against the closest wall he could find. He held you there, lips separating to begin trailing hungry kisses down the column of your throat and allow his hands to trace along your sides. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt to feel the bare skin there, wanting what he has longed for since the day he met you. A noise fell from your lips as he lazily suckled a mark over your pulse point, your fingers tangling into his dark hair and tugging the locks when his hips grounded against your own. He couldn’t help the fire blooming in his body, needy for the creature that has teased him for all these years, The one he thought he would never have a chance with because of their hate for each other on the track. He needed you, and in your current state, you were willing to accept any touch he offered. He was just Helmut Zemo tonight. Not your rival, not the Baron, just Helmut. And you were his (First name). 

A groan left his lips when you pulled him by his hair away from your neck, hands working to take your shirt up and over your head. Throwing it aside, he looked at you with a gaze of admiration. It was similar to the gaze he gave when looking at the new modifications to his car, taking pride in the beauty of things that drove him to win. He dampens his lips, fingers lazily dragging up the expanses of your back from bottom to top, resting on the clasp of the garment covering your breast. “Darf ich?” Your nod was all he needed, the clasp undone with skilled fingers that knew precision, holding still on your back when your arms rose to take the garment and throw it in an unknown direction to be forgotten about for the time being. He wasted no time with taking one of your breasts in hand, fingers running over the sensitive bud of one while he took the other in his mouth, suckling and lavishing with his tongue. He took his time, drunken yet slowly sobering mind savoring each and every noise that fell from your lips as he toyed with your body. You’re barely into foreplay and he already has your panties soaked, the Baron being a creature that knows exactly what buttons to push to get you going without even knowing your body. He was skilled, that much was for sure in your mind as he switched to the other breast, paying equal attention to each. Those brown eyes of his don’t leave your face for a second, watching every reaction and trying to commit them to memory. If he could only have you tonight, he wanted to remember everything he possibly could. Every detail of your body, everything that drew a hitched breath or a low moan from your lips. Every shaky breath and the way your body would press closer to his greedy mouth and hand. He stored it all away. Maybe he’d wake up the next day and fancy this a pleasant dream...It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten worked up by thinking about you. 

His hand traveled downward, cupping your sex through your pants as his own grinds up against your thigh, straining through the fabric of his pants. He ached for you, for your heated skin to be pressed against his own in a delicious rut of bodies. He traced along the seam, hearing the low whine that fell from your lips as he teased you through the material. “Helmut, stop for a moment.” The man paused all actions, his gaze shifted to a worried state as he met your eyes and spoke with concern. “Are you alright, mein liebling?”

“Oui.” Your fingers trace his jaw, the man's face briefly pressing in against your palm before delivering a soft kiss to the area. A tender gesture that sent butterflies to flutter in your stomach and heart to speed further than the foreplay had already caused. “I just...Take me to the bedroom. Please?” You preferred not being right beside the door where anyone could listen in, where anyone could hold a camera up to the peephole and record the sexual pleasures of the infamous Wildcard and Baron. That would make a top headline, wouldn’t it? He gave a chuckle at your demand, nodding as he kept his grip on you, your legs wrapping just a hint tighter around him as he moved you both to the bedroom. He’s gentle with setting you down, looking down at you when you unwrap your arms and legs from his form. “Scheiße, du bist perfekt.” He slowly worked on the buttons of his shirt, working each plastic piece through the loop with fingers that were known for precision on the course. A shift in his steering, taking hold of the semi-automatic paddle-shifters as he drove, it was all well calculated and that applied on and off the track. His shirt is shrugged off his shoulders, thrown aside before focusing on the belt on his pants. He gets it off with what can only be deemed a darkening gaze, knowing he’s getting closer and closer to having you. You rose to let your hands trail his chest, roaming over the lean muscle that rested there as feather light kisses met his collarbone. A shiver met his spine, shooting up in bliss as he allowed a moment to savor the feeling of you touching his skin. Your skin was so warm, so inviting. He was getting lost in everything. 

Your fingers shift down his torso, trailing his abdomen before looping in the belt loops of his pants to pull him forward, a low growl falling from his lips when you place a kiss above the waistline of his pants. Your movements were confident, unzipping his trousers and tugging them down to reveal the tent hidden behind his underwear. He swallowed thickly as he kicked his pants off, watching your every move as you cup him through the thin fabric, thumb moving to brush over the leaking tip and cause a shaky breath to leave him. “Maus-” A groan leaves his lips when a jerk through the fabric is given, his head falling back briefly. He huffed when you repeated the motion, fingers anxious to wrap around his bare flesh and feel that hot skin in the palm of your hand. But he stops you, hand wrapping around your own and bringing it to his lips once more. “Tonight is not about me, maus.” You’re surprised when the man placed his hand on your chest, lightly pushing you back to lay on the bed as he slowly sank down onto his knees, ”Es geht nur um dich.’ His lips drag slowly across your skin, trailing light kisses and nips along your abdomen and resting at the waist of your pants. He glanced up, a silent question of courtesy offered your way as his fingers loop in the band, asking permission like a proper gentleman. “Go ahead.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, his presence making you feel like you’re floating higher and higher on this ride with him. He gave a tug, your rear lifting and back arching to aid the man as he pulled your pants down and let them fall to join the scattered articles around the room. You’d have to go on a damn scavenger hunt just to find your clothes! But none of that mattered now, not when his hot breath is fanning over your needy core and face nuzzling at your thighs. He placed a kiss to your inner thigh before another followed, then another as he began to trail inward towards your covered core. “Aufgeregt?” He purred in questioning, a low rumble of a chuckle coming from deep within his chest spilling out at the small nod he is met with, loving how he has left you damn near speechless just by being so close. Your hips jump back before he gets a grip on them, his tongue moving over the wet fabric and causing a light whine to spill from your lips. “Helmut, please.” Oh, hearing you speak his name only egged him on further, needing you. He needed to taste you, to feel you. He needed you in every way, and his drunken mind only pushed him on to pull the fabric away from your legs and stare at the glory that is you. So wet, so beautiful. He wasted no more time, bringing your legs to hook over his shoulders and delved into the intoxicating honey pot he had been offered. He started off slowly, a long lap from entrance to clit given before the motion was repeated just to hear the noise that left your lips with each swipe. Zemo was mapping you out, taking note of what areas made your thighs twitch and tense, what areas made your hips jump back at the sensitivity of his touch, and what made those oh so delicious noises spill from your mouth. 

He allows his tongue to focus in on your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves in a rhythm that sends your head to spin and moan after moan to spill from your lips. “Merde!” He smirked against your core when your hand shot down to tangle in his locks, needing stability after he took your clit between his lips and suckled. He repeats the motion, gaze locked on your own and watching the sudden shock of the feeling run through your body. You were so reactive, and just for him. A lazy lick is given to the sensitive bundle of nerves, watching your hips jerk lightly and seeing the tremble that began to settle into your thighs. “Close?” He questioned as if he was questioning about an everyday thing, totally not giving the impression he was getting you close to orgasm just with that sinful tongue and lips of his. O-Oui.” Your tone was shaky, breathy, eyes half lidded and watching his every move on you. “Gut.” A gasp fell from your lips when he sank a digit into your hot, needy core, arching along the way and searching for the sweet spot deep within. He wasn’t like the inexperienced boys who would just jab their fingers into their partner and hope it hits something. No, his fingers curled, probed, dragged and felt for that spot in a way that showed his experience. A second digit is added not too long after the first, probing the flesh within until he hears your moan and finds that spot that drives you to clamp your thighs around his head. A groan left his lips at the rush of slick is met with each probe, massaging that spot within you and only adding to the tension building in your core. Each throb he was met with only spurred him on. He was on a mission to bring you over the edge, and he would do anything to get you off. When his mouth returned to your still sensitive clit, tongue flicking of the bundle and including the occasional suckle while his fingers moved deep within, you were done for. A rough tug is given to his hair as your body convulses, thighs clamping around him and grinding your hips down against his eager tongue. He helps you ride out your orgasm, lapping at your clit until you give a light shove to his head to make him stop. A wicked smile crosses his features as he gives one final suckle, a squeak leaving your lips at the motion and shoving him back as much as your trembling body allows. He can only chuckle at the attempt, fingers removing from your throbbing core. He watched your gaze land on him when you caught sight of the digits, watching the man move his glance to them as if he was inspecting them before a quiet whimper left your lips when they were taken one by one into his mouth. He made it a show, teasing you as he cleaned each digit of your juices in a slow motion. Sinking down to the knuckle before returning and licking at whatever was left. “Tease.” You huffed, chest rising and falling steadily with your hammering heart. “Oh you know you like it.” He retorted, lazily letting his body climb up and over yours on the plush mattress. 

He pushed the final material separating you from him away, throwing the underwear away before letting himself settle in against your body. Zemo wasted no time in wrapping your legs around his waist, lips joining yours as he lined up with you, one hand taking hold of your hip while the other took hold of your hair, tugging it back enough to have access to your neck. As he begins to ease himself within you, his lips attach at a section of your neck, a harsh mark left in his wake as he sinks inch by inch within the lightly pulsing core that he toyed with before. A groan was left against your skin when he was fully settled, grip rough on your hip but movements gentle as he waited for you to adjust. He was no animal, not cruel! He knew that there was a possibility for pain if he moved too soon, and even in his drunken haze he recognized the look in your eyes, the slight twinge of pain from his size alone. The stretch wasn’t unpleasant, no, but it was an intrusion you weren’t quite used to when normally doing this. He lightly placed kisses to sooth you along the mark he left, trailing them up the underside of your chin, going along your jaw before soon connecting with your lips in a soft kiss. Something to distract you until you were ready for him to move. A shift of your hips was given when you tested the feeling of him in you, the moan that left your lips causing a low growl to fall from his own. He lifted his body to loom over yours, hand moving from your hair to cup a breast as he sets a slow, deep and even borderline sensual pace within your core. Slowly out until the tip stayed just barely in before plunging deeply into your warm, wet depths. He huffed with each push of his cock within your core, meeting your moans with a faint groan here or a soft growl there when your walls gripped him just right. He was losing composure with each faint twitch of your walls around him, pace beginning to pick up into a steady rhythm that developed the noise of slick skin hitting skin and the bed beneath to creak ever so slightly with each movement. “Verdammt!” He could tell how your walls began to tighten around him, how each noise leaving your lips grew louder and louder. His poor neighbors, hearing you both so vividly through the walls of the hotel. Yet he didn’t care who heard. As long as they knew that in this moment, you were his to take, that was all that mattered. Zemo moved his thumb to your clit, working the bundle along with the assault he laid on your sensitive spot deep within. Each clamp around him brought his own release to come closer and closer. “Cum for me, maus.” He demanded with a grunt, needing to feel you come undone to reach his own release. His words hit somewhere deep in you, the demand that was laced with a plea driving you to your second orgasm of the night. He groaned as he felt you clamp around him, the sensation alone causing him to remove himself from you and spill onto your stomach with a few quick pumps of his hand along his slick coated member. He pants, taking in the sight of you one final time for the time being. Messy, slickened by your own arousal and sweat. Your hair was messed up, your lips parted and panting. To add the cherry on top, you were coated in his release, a sight for sore eyes while you lay like this. He made you like this, and it swells his drunken ego. 

Slowly he eased down to lay at your side, bringing you in against him with an almost delicate kiss delivered to your temple. Your breathing slowly evened out, head resting against his chest as his fingers trail along your back, drawing imaginary patterns as his mind begins to blank. The alcohol was taking effect, causing him to enter a lull and for his eyes to flutter shut. As you lay there, catching your breath, you watch as he drifts away, a single question beginning to enter your sobering mind. 

“What have I done?”

Tag List: @darksxder | @mymagicsuitcase | @mischief-siriusly-managed | @alindeluce​

[alreadyblondenow]

Paint the lot red | Qian Kun

Qian Kun x Reader  

▸ FLUFF, ANGST, Smut, Vampire au ▸ Part of the Stephen King’s collab, hosted by @starryqian​ & @takitaro​ ▸ Inspired by Stephen King’s, Salem’s Lot 

Summary: Kun is a vampire, buying humans in exchange for immortality. He wanted to buy you and your house, but love changes everything. Convincing each other to be something you’re not. Kun wants to turn you into a vampire, but you want him to embrace being a human. Will Kun leave his family for you? Or you will accept the immortality he offers?

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: mentions of car crash, family loss, Vanilla sex, depression from family loss, bloodsucking, virginity loss, unprotected sex, swearing, major character death, blood, mentions of alcohol, depression

A/N: Salem’s Lot is a handful but great book. I can’t follow the entire plot of Stephen King’s work, so heres my version of it. This is also inspired by Vampires VS. The Bronx... HAHAHA so, here. And sorry if the ending is SLIGHTLY close to my Jaehyun’s Body, but I plotted this first so 🤷🏼‍♀️ 

Tag list: @jimjamjaemin @inseonqt @thefouranemoi @jaehyunoos @sunshinedhyuck @neospirited @shanghai-lu @loeygotospacenow @mal-nakamoto23 @svteencarat @commentgirl @yukine-smx​ (I hope I did not missed anyone)

NEWS FLASH: The family of the famous writer Y/N, died in a car crash on their way to the airport for a family trip to Hawaii. All four passengers are dead on arrival including the driver. The funeral will be closed and private, as per the writer Y/N’s request.  

The sky has your favorite shade of orange when you arrived at the house. Home, you thought. Always the same big house that you grew up to. It’s been almost ten years since you step foot in this house and seeing it again for the first time made you regret every Christmas that you purposely missed just so you can avoid spending time with your family. And besides feeling that you’re home, you feel regret suffocating you. What was I thinking, you murmured. This house used to be filled with laughter and happiness. Nights where you and your family will watch TV together in the living room with all the lights closed, countless meals together and talking about random stuff while eating, drinking coffee with your mother, playing board games with your brother. But now, the house is filled with dust and despair.

The house feels cold and dirty but either way, it’s what you need. You would rather feel the emptiness of this big house and miss your family than be alone in your apartment. Maybe being home can make you write something worth reading for again, maybe being home will help you be alive again. Losing your whole family is a different kind of pain. The word ‘alone’ does not cover what you’re feeling right now.

It has been nine months since the accident but the sad news is still fresh in your heart that sometimes when you remember it, you just turned into stone and start crying out of nowhere. Thankfully, the town was understanding enough about what you’re going through in life. They were all careful not to make you remember your family’s death, and made sure to take care of you in ways that they can.

“I see some stores are closing? What happened to Miguel’s Ice Cream shop?” you asked Sophie, the owner of the small grocery store in town. You’ve known her since you were just a little girl, and your mother and father helped her grow her business.

“Well, since your father’s death there's this vampire family who’s been buying the whole town. One by one, Qian Properties. Offering money and immortality as payments” she says. The worry in her tone is quite evident as if she knew that vampires will soon knock on her store and offer her the same thing. Money and immortality.

After your family’s passing, the world has gone mad like they took every good thing from this world with them on their graves. Crazy how in nine months the things that are used to be fiction like vampires, are now the new normal. Everything happened so fast. Their kind grew and grew and now their population covers over almost 1/4 of the world. Vampires school, condominiums for vampires, hotel ran by vampires, humans being vampires. It’s crazy. But even though the world has gone mad, it doesn’t bother you because the pain that you’re dealing with right now is taking too much of your sanity.

As months slowly pass by, even though you hate writing right now, you still try and find your way back to loving what you used to do for a living. Writing was everything to you. There’s no greater feeling than sharing something you’ve created to the world, show it entirely, and watch the people love every bit of that thick thing we called a book. You lost your spark with writing when the accident happened and it changed your life. Everything you published became the talk of the world, people hating it and blaming what happened to your family. It was your darkest time. Losing your family and watching your career end.

You type, delete over and over again, and tried writing your feelings away until you see the sun setting again. A good reminder to call it a day. Then someone rang your doorbell. You quickly grabbed your robe and make your way downstairs, you see a man’s figure on the other side of the gate, wearing a nice suit, black trousers, and nice leather shoes.

“Good evening. I hope I did not interrupt you, I’m Qian Kun” he offered his hand for you to shake it which you accepted with a straight face. Qian. The family name of the vampires who are buying properties in this town and you’re not stupid to not know what he came here for. You wanted to shoo him away and tell him that you’re not interested in anything that he will offer. You have a lot of money and you don’t need immortality.

You crossed your arms and waited for him to talk more. “May I come in? I’m looking forward to this meeting for quite some time now” he says. You turned around and did not say anything but left the gate wide open. “Please” he added and he sounded desperate.

“Mr. Qian, I left the door open. What are you waiting for?”

“I- I suppose you don’t know that vampires cannot come in unless you invite them in” you didn’t of course.

“I’m sorry. I did not know. Please come in”

When you two settled in the living room, he started the conversation by introducing himself. You notice that he’s well mannered, polite, and careful with his words. He doesn’t sound fake like the monsters who pretend to care for you in the writing industry. Kun was straightforward without offending you, intimidating but not enough to make you feel small. He stated his intentions very clearly, “As a firstborn, I want my family to have a nice home. And this house is perfect. You will not be homeless, of course. We will find you a new house, cash, and immortality” he says.

You couldn’t agree more with what Kun told you. But the reason that he’s here to buy your house is something you can’t let him do. Even if he’s polite, nice, and handsome if you’re being honest. You can’t let him take away your home.

“It’s good that you love your family so much and you’re taking care of them. Something that I regret not doing” you take a sip from your coffee before you continue saying something that will bring you to tears, “are you aware that I lost my family, about a year ago?” you were calm when you said it, but it still hurt like hell. Admitting that they’re gone.

Kun was speechless. He felt like he ruined your peace and your time to mourn your family but most of all, it felt like he’s disrespecting you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know” is all he can say.

“I have way too much money and I don’t want immortality. Thank you for your offer, but this is all I’ve got”

“I cherish my family too. I have a family and we don't have a home, you don’t have a family but you have a home. Be part of us, we can be your family”

You got offended, but still, there’s not enough reason to burst out and be hysterical. You gave him a small smile and shook your head, “Good luck finding a home Mr. Qian. I admire you taking care of your family”

The night ended coldly, both disappointed with personal reasons. Although he felt sorry about his visit, he still got his eyes on the prize. Kun will stand his ground and will try over and over again until you say yes to his offer. You, on the other hand, don’t know why you have a soft spot for the vampire even though he already offended you. Maybe it’s because you were moved for his honest reasons that you can’t let out your anger towards him even if you force yourself. He was just trying and finding his family a stable home, no need to get mad, you said to yourself.

As days go by, the vampire did not give up as expected. He continued his visit and greet you with the sweetest smile. He tried pursuing you, giving you flowers, bringing you books to read, chocolates, fruits, anything that crosses his mind that will try to change your decision. He was desperate for his family’s sake and it was obvious.

Sophie said that Qian properties chose this place because it’s far from the city. There’s a lot of trees and the neighborhood is peaceful. “That’s why he’s desperate. Your father made this town great. Don’t let that Qian family eat up of what your father built” she says sternly.

You walked alone to your house with a bag of take out, thinking of other ways to make your meal even more delicious. Since you’re alone in life, you don’t have someone to cook you a decent meal. When you were living alone in the city, you have your manager cook you good food. But now that you’re completely alone, you just have to make the best out of this take out.

“Hi” of course the vampire waited for you to come home. You smiled and let out a small laugh because both of his hands are carrying grocery bags.

“What are you doing? I have food and enough stocks for a whole family, and I live alone” It was a joke. You giggle and opened the gate, this time you did not forget to invite him in.

“That’s not why I’m here. I’m here as a friend a new vampire friend- Let me cook for you please, I need a friend”

Hearing him say those words made you think that Kun is a blessing in disguise. Finally, decent food. You don’t want to admit but having Kun’s company tonight made you feel happy. Not genuinely happy of course, but it’s nice to have someone to talk to. Surprisingly, he’s talkative but not annoying. The words that came out from his mouth made sense to the point that you’re learning new things from him. He was right, he’s here as a friend and not as a buyer of your house.

“Why do you want my house so bad?” you asked. Stirring the spaghetti sauce that he made.

“Hmm. I thought I’m here as a friend?” he smiles and refuses to answer your question. He looked handsome up close, but his unbelievably white skin is scary. It reminded you that he’s a vampire.

“Well okay, if you don’t want to answer that question. I didn’t know vampires eat. I thought you only drink blood from humans” you quickly changed the subject so he can feel comfortable.

“I love food and I love cooking. It’s my guilty pleasure. It doesn’t make me full, but if what I made taste good then I’m satisfied” he answered your question with a big smile. Proud and happy to talk about how he loves cooking.

For someone who doesn’t have a soul, Kun is a vampire full of life. You listen to him talk about the things he sees on TV and watches his eyes show you and tell you how he’s curious about the world. He’s well aware that there's so much you can do in a lifetime, he wanted to learn many things and go around the world. He’s almost more human than you are. “Well if you have all these dreams of yours why don’t you embrace life instead of living in the shadows for your family?” you hope he answers your question this time.

“My family is more important than my dreams and my wants in life. The things that I long for will forever be in this world, but my family can die anytime-“ he realized what he just said, “I’m- I’m sorry. I got carried away. Please- Uh, how’s the food?” he tried changing the subject but it was too late.

He’s right. Everything he said is right and you’re realizing it just now, “I wish I met you before my family died. Unlike you, I chose my dreams and turned my back against my family. And now I’m regretting it. Don’t worry, you didn’t offend me and the food is great. Really great” your tone was slowly turning sad and gloomy. The vampire was quick to be concerned but he can’t do anything to help you heal. So, he changed the mood and joked about offering you immortality and you argued with him and tried convincing him to embrace being human. It was a friendly debate that made him blush and your heart flutter.

Kun hates lying, even to himself. As he listens and watches you speak very closely while you drink your wine, he's slowly liking you and he's not afraid of what he's feeling right now. He loves how you talk about the things you've experienced already like he's listening to a book about wonders. You must be a great writer. The whole time you were talking about your first book to him, he was really impressed by your talent but he can't listen to you further. Instead, he just admired you closely.      

Then he kissed you.

He noticed how your lips were plump and red because of the red wine and the kiss was something he can’t control because he wanted to do it. “I’m not sorry about the kiss, I wanted to do it” at least he was honest about what he feels. "Please continue your story" and so you did, but this time you were smiling from ear to ear.

Good things come to an end. You felt that you went out on a date with Kun when the night ended. You felt nothing but happiness, butterflies in your stomach, cheeks hurt because of too much smiling. He flashed those handsome dimples of his and waved goodbye to you. Neither of you wanted to end the night so early but he had to go home to his family.

The next day, while you were trying so hard to put what you feel into writing, you look over the window and hope to see Kun’s figure outside your huge gate. But no, he’s not there. Until the sun is finally setting again and the sky turned into your favorite shade of orange, you were disappointed but only for a short span of time.

The same thing happened for a week. You waited for the vampire to show up outside your gate, but he never did. Maybe he finally gave up.

One fine beautiful evening, you were reading the books Kun gave you while you enjoy a cup of warm tea then your doorbell rang three times that it almost sounded so desperate for attention. Finally, the figure that you’ve been meaning to see showed up. You welcome him in like an old friend and he greets you with an exhausted smile. He looked tired and dull you noticed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t show up for days” you haven’t seen each other for a week and the first words you heard from him are apologies. “I was busy running the family business” he clears his throat and sat comfortably on the couch.

“Which is?” you asked.

“Buying humans so my family name will forever live,” he said oh so cooly. Surprising you with honestly again that never bothered you. In fact, he continues to surprise you. “And looking for a new town to buy” he added. You noticed during your long walks that people in this town continue embracing immortality in exchange for their establishments and loyalty for Qian properties. It sounds complicated, their business, but really it’s not hard to understand. It’s like a normal business that buys and sells properties and a big company that needed a lot of staff. But for Qian properties, lives are involved.

“What happens to the people you turn to vampires?”

“Besides being rich, they will have a long life, my family owns them and as long as they live, they will work for my family. But I can assure you that their lives are safe. We don’t harm them, rather we help them adjust to this new life they swore to- How are you?”

His sudden concern for you caught you off guard that you smiled and became shy in front of him. He’s not here as a businessman again, he’s here as your friend, Kun. Whom you kissed and waited for his presence every day.

“I waited for you every day” he smiled at your honesty. But then, his smile slowly fades away. He holds his chest and pretends that he’s okay to not make you worry. “I’m not stupid you’re hungry. When was the last time you drank blood?” you brought him to your kitchen to give him a plate of raw steak. But he told you steak does not cover it. You were trying so hard to help him ease his hunger. Then you realized, you have blood.

“Try not to kill me? Or turn me?” you exposed your collar bones to him and standup in between his legs. He was sitting on the kitchen counter like a bored teenager with a bottle of water in his hand. He let out a cute laugh and fixed your robe.

“No. I can’t do that to you. I’m not here to ask for blood. I’m just tired and pressured because of my family. I just needed to see you” he smiled so sweetly again, making you fall in love with his gaze. Even though he’s tired and weak to the core he can still make your heart flutter.

“I’m not going to take no for an answer. If you don’t drink my blood, you can never see me again” it was a dangerous bargain but you had to try. You came closer to him, felt his cold skin, smelled his cologne, and hope that he smells your blood. It was a struggle for him and he enjoys your sweet torture. Until he finally gave in.  

“Just one swig,” he says.

“That’s all I want to happen. Please, you look dead” you insist.

He took his time untying your robe, remove it from you and watch it hit the tiled kitchen floor. He kissed your neck like the gentleman that he is making you weak and let out soft moans. His lips are cold and it sends a shiver straight to your spine. Then he bit you. Drank your blood like he’s just kissing your neck. It felt like you’re high on drugs, everything kept spinning and the moment he stopped. You feel weak and he was quick to catch you with his strong arms. Kun kissed the part where he had bit you a few seconds ago and kissed you all the way from your collar bone, neck, chin, and finally your lips.

Everything turned slow. Like a moment being kept for safekeeping and no one dares to move too fast. Scared to ruin such a beautiful moment.

You took him to your room and there you two continued that beautiful moment. He watched you remove your clothes in between his legs as he comfortably sits on the edge of your queen-sized bed. Once you discarded all your clothes and exposed your bare body to him, his hands roam freely around your body. It’s his first time, he whispered. “I’ll try not to disappoint you” he promised.  

While you help him remove his clothes, Kun learned to kiss your body. He was shy but you told him he doesn’t have to. He learned to kiss your chest, the valley between your boobs and your stomach. “Why are you avoiding my boobs?” you asked with a slight giggle, waiting for his lips to brush your perked nipple and make you shiver. He looked at you directly in the eye as he starts sucking your left nipple, then he turned to your right boob, and in a matter of minutes, he finally learned how to use his tongue. You gasped and breathed in deeply as you were just standing in between his legs, naked, shivering, and moaning at the things he’s been doing to you.

“You’re going to make me cum undone” you informed him. He stopped and leaned back, admiring your swollen nipples as if he’s proud of his work.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked oh so innocently.

“No” you pushed him slowly to the mattress, “But I’d rather cum in other different ways,” you said. This time it’s your turn to kiss his cold body and let him experience the pleasure he’s been giving you. His low groans were music to your ears when you licked his nipples while you unbutton his pants and remove it swiftly leaving him only with his boxers briefs.

Given that this is his first time, you decided to stay on top tonight and take charge. You kissed his abs, feel it with your hands, and took time kissing his lower abdomen, making the vampire impatient and push his underwear down so your lips can finally make contact with his cock. You gave him his first blow job, sucking his dick slowly and pumping it over and over again until it’s really hard and thick. “I promise to give you a proper blowjob someday” you crawled on top of him until your wet folds are coating his cock with your pussy juices.

“I can get addicted to you, you know that?” he says and smiled before you reach for his lips to distract him as you line his cock to your entrance and slowly sink down on him. His reaction was something you will never forget, the sound that he made once he’s fully inside you. You intertwined your fingers with him before you roll your hips deliciously.

“Ready?”

“Yeah- Oh, ahh” he part his lips and did not get shy anymore as he continues to let out his moans and feel your warm walls around him. He pulled your body closer to him, wanting to never leave those beautiful lips of yours. You made his arms rest on your hips, as you bounce up and down on his cock with utmost care. There’s no need to go wild and crazy for tonight. Everything is perfect.

“I’m close” he admitted. But you didn’t stop moving your hips.

“Can you make me pregnant?” you cage his head with your arms, your face is close to him so you can nip his lower lip and kiss him every second.

“I can’t” he answers your question. There was a slight disappointment of course. But this is not the right time to think about having kids.

“What are you waiting for? Let go and cum inside me”

Kun did what you said and had the time of his life, enjoying his first orgasm from having sex. It doesn’t matter if you didn’t cum tonight, Kun’s cock felt great and that alone satisfies you. He didn’t let you go for some time, you stayed on top of him as he continues to kiss and talk to you while he still enjoys your warmth.  

Soon, you lay beside him and covered you with your clean thick sheets. You talked some more, about things that are intimate and are for the two of you only. You never felt so happy being in the arms of a… vampire. You felt alive again but you don’t say it out loud, you just wanted to bask at this moment with Kun and feel the happiness flood your heart.  

“How are you feeling?” you asked. Maybe he needed more blood?

“I’m feeling just fine. Thank you. And I’m not talking about the sex and your blood. Thank you for letting me in your life” he was holding your hand while drawing small circles using his cold thumb.

That night, you two slept really late and talked more about life and the things you wanted. You learned that the two of you are very different from each other but you’re ready to love him deeply and he’s ready to take great risk for you too. And you think the beauty of loving someone so different from you is a different kind of great love.

Kun’s cold figure still hugs you tightly when you wake up the next day. The morning light hits his skin perfectly that he shines effortlessly. “fuck” you muttered and quickly tried getting out from his cold embrace to close the curtains. But he tugs you even closer to his body making you panic even more, “are you hurt?”

“No” he kissed you good morning and sweetly requests, “can we stay a little bit longer like this? I still don’t want to face the day”

You raked his hair away from his face and gave him his morning kisses, “we can stay like this forever” you said.

“Does that mean you’re accepting immortality?-“

“That’s not what I meant”

“Oh”

Even so, being human and vampire in a relationship did not stop you two from loving each other without bounds. Every day has been nothing but happiness with Kun even though you both have your own disappointments with yourselves. You’re disappointed with writing, he’s disappointed with his family’s business. Every bit of the relationship was not easy but you two chose to be happy together every day and face each day together.

He starts calling your house his home because you are his home and you don’t mind him calling you that. It makes you happy. Every day, when the sky turns to your favorite shade of orange, Kun will ring your doorbell and you will welcome him home with kisses and warm hugs.

Soon, you two became confident about telling each other everything about your family. And for the first time, talking about them didn’t make you sad, but rather happy because you can share that part of your life with Kun who listens to every word you say attentively. He told you that his mom was the one who told him to give you books to read, give you flowers and treat you with respect. His stories about his family make you want to meet them someday. It will not be easy but, “We will get here eventually”

Speaking of eventually, he finally learned how to fuck after a few nights of making love with Kun. He finally became confident in bed, making you moan his name over and over again. Memorizing every inch of the places you loved being touched the most. Oh, he’s a fast learner and a great one if you’re being honest to the point that night after night you grip the sheets so hard because he was fucking you good.

Perfect. Everything is perfect.

“Good morning” you greet him with loving kisses as always before you make your coffee. He’s still shirtless and just wearing his pajamas while he makes breakfast. You hugged him from behind and enjoy his cold skin on a beautiful warm morning. “Can we stay like this forever?” you asked, hugging him tightly.

“Is that a yes for immortality?” he’s serious when it comes to ‘immortality’ but it never annoyed you because it’s his love language. You understand him.

“I want to be with my family, Kun” you bit his shoulder playfully and placed soft kisses after. He loves it when you do that.

“And I don’t want to watch you die,” he asked for a kiss on lips, which you gave happily.

“Why are we having this conversation?” you roll your eyes.

“You’re right. I love you, I’m sorry”

See. Push and pull. And it’s a decision that one day you’re going to face and not even ‘i love yous’, ‘i’m sorry’, hugs or kisses will solve that problem for you. Someday he will not joke about it. And you’re scared because the question is, family or Kun?  

During the day, you kept thinking about the conversation you had with Kun before breakfast. It made you think hard and ran through every loophole. You imagined life without Kun, you imagined him watch you die in a hospital bed, and you imagine not being with your family ever again. Every decision broke your heart.

When Kun finally came home, you try shrugging the thought of making a decision one day and admire your boyfriend as he is about to prepare you dinner.

Having a very handsome vampire in your kitchen cooking you good food is definitely one for the books. It’s like watching a live cooking show and you’re the only audience who can taste what he’s cooking. The way he walks around and smiles at you from time to time is making you feel things you shouldn’t be feeling. Heck, even watching him sprinkle salt and pepper, chop the peppers, and squeeze some lemon is making your heart jump.

Such a waste.

All these talents for singing, great skills at the kitchen, handsome face… And yet he chose to live in darkness. You have nothing against the vampire, he didn’t choose to be born as a bloodsucker, but he did choose to serve his family. His number one mistake, honestly speaking.

“If you’re not a vampire, what would you want to be?” you asked him bluntly, sipping on your wine while you watch him cook. “I hope you know that you’re talented and that if you embrace being a human you can be many things. For starters, you can be a cook at a famous restaurant or a pilot”

“Are we seriously having this conversation?” he chuckles, turns off the stove and faced you, leaning on the kitchen counter, looking handsome as ever, “Do me a favor and imagine yourself being 200 years old still looking young and beautiful. Or being happily married for hundreds of years. With me” he left a kiss on your forehead and goes back to plating the food.

The words ‘happily married’ doesn’t sound so bad.

“So you’re telling me that if we stayed like this, vampire and human, and I’m finally old and wrinkly, you won’t love me anymore?” you tease him, not letting him know that the idea of being married affects you.

“Why can’t we have a normal dinner without being on each other’s throats? Come on let’s eat. Grab the wine please,” he offered his cold hand to help you come down from the stool and go together to the dining area.

Before eating he did notice you were spacing out, he puts down his spoon and fork and reached for your hand. “Look at me,” he says, “Vampire or not I’m going to marry you and we’ll live happily together”

“You promise?”

“I promise. Now, come on eat. Tell me if it’s delicious, I just learned this from the cooking show I’ve been watching”  

The constant push and pull continued. Your relationship has always been a never-ending convincing each other to be something you’re not. But ever since you let Kun in your life happiness is present in your life again and you’re worried that maybe someday that happiness will be taken away from you again. Kun is literally the reason why you smile first thing in the morning and sleep peacefully at night.

After having dinner and you two are ready for bed, you can’t stop thinking about the conversation you had this morning. The decision you’ve been thinking about has been running in your mind the whole day but there's another thought that’s been bugging you all along and you’ve been wanting to ask Kun.

“Can you really not die?”

He must be tired. He closed his eyes and kept you close. You wait for his answer but it seems like he doesn’t want to keep the conversation. Then he looks at you, “I can. I just have to be careful. I can die like how humans die except for dying at old age” he explains and you don’t want to pry further. “I'm scared of dying, you know. There’s so much I want to do in my life even before I met you. But since then I became even more scared to death. This world holds everything important to me, my family, and you. I can’t die” he answered your question honestly of course.

The next day, Kun woke up before you because he’s been planning to do something lately but can’t execute his plans correctly. He was about to do it last night but you asked him a heavy question so he didn’t have a choice but to set aside his intentions first.

He carefully opened the bedside drawer and reached for the tiny object inside. Since he doesn’t know anything about romance, he doesn’t know how to propose beautifully to you. So he went for something he’s confident with. Honesty. He grabs your hand and slips the ring on your finger, carefully but his movements still woke you up.

Any girl would freak out seeing her boyfriend propose to her the moment she opens her eyes in the morning. The diamond is quite big and it made you gasp. Not that you cared about the rock but the fact that Kun just proposed to you the moment you wake up is just enough reason to panic.

But he made a ’Shh’ sign that made you follow him and kept yourself quiet. You feel your heart thumping and beating so fast at this moment that you want to burst out of happiness already but Kun is calm in front of you. Just calm.

“Listen” all you hear are birds chirping and comfortable silence, “peaceful right?” you nod your head, “Let’s never break that peace in our relationship. I don't know how to make things easier for us but let's start with, no more push and pull. Last night I promised you that vampire or not, I’m gonna marry you and this is me keeping that promise. I would rather watch you die at old age, wrinkly and weak than lose you” He kissed your hand, and the panic that you’ve been savoring is long forgotten. Instead of screaming your lungs out because of too much happiness, you kissed each other and engraved that beautiful moment in your hearts.

And because you and Kun have been living together for quite some time now, you’ve become the talk of the town. Everyone thought that Kun is keeping you hostage and is only using you to get the house and to get the whole town. Even though he has been really successful in buying lives lately and earning the people’s loyalty in this town, the ones who strongly refused Kun’s offer is now making a plot behind his back.

A plot where they plan to kill him and save you. They’re just waiting for the perfect timing to strike the vampire.

“He’s just using you to get the house. Of course, he had to marry you so he can have legal rights to your house. Trust me, that vampire will leave you” Sophie hated Kun so much that when you told her that you’re engaged she didn’t take it lightly. The old woman shoos you out of her store and told you to be smarter. It’s sad how she can’t see that you’re really happy with Kun.

When you got home from grocery shopping, you wait for Kun to arrive before you leave him for one night to meet your manager back to the city. It pains you to be away from Kun. It’s like there's this magnet that’s keeping you near him and stopping you from leaving the house but finally, you finished a good book. All thanks to Kun. Your manager wanted to meet you so you can work on the details and finally, go back to the world and show everyone how you’ve been.  

“The city is great. You sure you don’t want to come? There's a lot of vampires in the city-“

“And my fiance is a famous writer. Who’s about to have her come back to the industry that she loves. I don’t want to give you a problem before you can even go back out there. People will not take it lightly if they see you with me” he kissed you and hope that you will not argue with him further.

“But we just got engaged. I don’t want to be away from you” you pout like a little girl.

“Well then come home soon” he smiles sweetly to you and finally made you stop your whining.

Leaving home never felt so wrong. But you realized, he’s right. You just have to come home soon.

When you were back in the city and in the familiar office of your manager, you can’t help but feel out of place. Is this really what you want? Because if your manager agrees to publish this new work of yours, that means you have to leave home again. You have to leave Kun and live in the city. Something you think you can’t handle. It's like making the same mistakes again.

“I love it! You’re back- amazing work. I have to meet this vampire that you’re talking about. The one who inspired you to write this beautiful masterpiece. Ugh! Welcome back!” he exclaims excitedly. But his approval did not make you excited or anything. You’re happy of course, but you’ve been thinking about coming home and telling Kun the good news.

“Are we done here?”

“Uh- yes, bu-“

“Great. Call me if you need anything. I have to go home now. Thank you” you shake his hand and bid him goodbye. You were quick to get out of there and head home already. The plan was to stay the night in your old apartment, but you can’t. You really can’t. It’s almost 3 in the morning and Kun must be sleeping already because he hasn’t answered your calls. You drove excitedly while playing with the ring on your finger, thinking about how to spend the following days with Kun as an engaged couple.

When you finally arrived in town, people in their sleep wears welcomes you in the street. But their faces looked worried and concerned. What’s happening, you murmured. Since a lot of people are blocking the street you decided to get out of the car and check what’s happening.

“Y/n… the house….” someone shouted.

“My house?” you ran as fast as you can to see what they’re talking about. Hoping that everything is fine and that Kun is safe and not inside the house.

Then you see it.

It was your favorite shade of orange. Eating your house, ruining your home. You watched the house burn and you never thought that watching it will make you hate something you used to love ever since you were just a kid. You wanted the bright colors to fade. Your hands are shaking as you call for help. Screaming at the top of your lungs as people try to stop you from running towards your house.

“Kun!” you screamed and asked for him but no one is answering you.

Sophie tried to make you listen to her while you push everyone away. “I’m sorry. We had to do this. The town was slowly dying and turning into a vampire town. Y/n! He will leave you in the end or worst, he will change you” she was apologizing but you didn’t want to listen to her anymore. You slapped the old woman and tried to kick her with all your might but the people are quick to stop you.

The fire spread so fast that Kun didn’t have time to save himself. He tried calling for help but the lines were already cut. It’s obvious the fire was planned. He was trying so hard to escape death, coughing and covering his mouth, crying while he bangs through the door that seems to be locked from the outside. I don’t want to die. He repeats over and over again, thinking about his family, his brothers, and of course you.

But he couldn’t go out. He banged through the door until his last breath and strength but it did nothing. Soon the fire ate him and all he can do is scream through the pain, cry, and accept death.

The next thing you know, you’re at the hospital. You see your manager sleeping on the couch. Tears started falling but you don’t know why. On top of that, your heart feels heavy. It’s a familiar feeling, you thought. Like when the news that your family died reached you.

Then you see your ring. And suddenly you understand why you started crying out of nowhere and why that familiar feeling of losing someone is back.

Kun is dead.

And once again you’re back to rock bottom but this time you don’t have a home or a place to help you heal.

[spitpr1ncess]

Can I Call You Sir? / Nanami Kento x Fem Reader

--“And if I did? It’s only proved what I thought to be true all along. You’re a little degenerate, like me. I just wanted to test you, to know if you wanted what I wanted. Seems like you do, so tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you’re leaving, I’ll let you. I’m not going to force you to do anything, I respect your boundaries, and I respect that this is wrong. It just, feels so right. So deny it.”--

Fucking bullshit.

You stare at the graded paper before you and seethe from the inside out. An F? A fail?! But you’d studied relentlessly! The only thought you were having was how your mother was going to kill you when she finds out, you can practically hear her shrieking, “I’m paying heaps of money to put you through university and this is what you have to show for it?

Professor Nanami is writing something that looks vaguely recognizable on the chalk board, his tall but slim body looking oddly out of place at the front of the long classroom as you glare holes into the back of his blue shirt. There wasn’t a single person you hated more than him in this never-ending moment. You yawn and allow your head to fall heavy onto your crossed arms, hiding your shameful test results. You could listen to Professor Nanami with your eyes closed based solely on the fact that you would be failing the rest of this term if your test results were anything to go by.

The rest of the lesson passes quickly as you fall victim to maladaptive daydreams, playing out every single scenario where you approach Professor Nanami and question his harsh grading. You aren’t a stupid girl, in fact, in every other class you were smashing your target or hitting above. What was this mans problem? You imagine slamming your paper down in front of him, arms crossed and little foot tapping the floor. “Do you hate me?”, “So you have favourites?”, or just a plain “what the fuck?!” were among the favourites you’d rehearsed. His face was cold as stone as he stared back before licking his lower lip and smirking, pulling his glasses atop his head, causing a pretty ripple in his hair as he stands absolutely towering over you. A large thumb lifts your chin to look at him as his eyes bore into you. Then his lips are on yours.

Wait what?

What?

You’re roughly pulled from your daydream by your hair as a pair of polished brown shoes stand at the foot of your worn school desk and a voice beckons your name. Professor Nanami is stood less than a foot in front of you waiting for an explanation. You shoot bolt upright in the uncomfortable wooden chair as your entire body feels like its been zapped by an electric fence. You can feel the blush in your face spreading to your ears as you push the strange daydream to the back of your degenerate mind.

“Sleeping through my lectures will not help you fix that broken grade, Miss Reader. Do you understand me? Or do I need to put it more plainly? It can’t be easy with a simple mind like yours, but I’m sure we could find a way to help you absorb what I’m saying.” His eyes are cold as steel and boring into your soul, he doesn’t even blink, he’s like a robot. You hold his gaze before risking a look around the classroom revealing that it is completely empty, not a soul to be seen, brilliant. So not only had you failed your test but you’d also voluntarily agreed to extracurricular activities whilst daydreaming about kissing your Professor, it sure was a great day to be you.

You panic, how were you going to salvage this? You needed to think quickly, but nothing was springing to mind.

Clearing your throat and calming your nerves you begin, “sorry Professor I didn’t get much sleep last night, I have a lot going on at home so am finding it difficult to participate in classes at the moment.”

You are?

He lets out a small snort as he sits at the edge of your desk, peering down at you through his glasses, a look of judgement plasters his incredibly chiselled facial features, he is beautiful, and you’re happy to admit that, whether or not it could get you in trouble.

What?

“Your lies won’t cut it here, you’re excelling in all your other classes, algebra, languages and biology. These are not easy subjects and geography is a breeze in comparison, so why are you failing? Are you doing it on purpose?” Your attention is drawn to his strong throat and his Adams apple lifts and falls again as he swallows and you wonder if he is anxious about approaching you, not that he has any reason to be.

You feel anger bubble in your throat as you argue back, “I’m not a liar. I’m having trouble concentrating here. Your teaching, the class size, the fact the class is the last of the day, maybe you’re grading me too harshly! Have you considered that? Nobody else failed, so why did I?!” Your voice is shaking now and your knuckles are white as you push your nails into your palms, drawing blood. Professor Nanami looks at you for a moment before standing and heading back to his desk at the front of the class where he picks up a piece of chalk and some papers and begins to write.

“Question one is on plate tectonics, lets begin there. Would you care to explain the theory to me?” He turns and gives you a weirdly friendly smile, you calm your nerves and take a breath, opening your paper and looking at your answer, you read out the sentences you had written and cringe as you allow Professor Nanami to correct you, taking notes on his tutoring. Your personal four o’clock class finishes at just past seven as you both wrap up the test paper and Nanami wipes the board clean.

“In future Miss Reader, you come to me when you need help. You’re a smart young lady really, you know that, so put your brain to use. You’re going to do great things after your course is up so don’t discredit yourself over one failed paper.” He sits at his desk and waves his hand to dismiss you. “You’d better go now, I’m sure you have a worried boyfriend wondering where you’ve gotten to so late in the evening.” He pushes his glasses onto the top of his head, much like in your daydream, and you appreciate how good he looks for a moment. He’s aged yes, around thirty yes, but still gorgeous. You know the girls at University fawn over him, fighting to get even a slither of attention, and here you were, in a private tutoring session of your own, and without even meaning to.

You ponder the boyfriend comment before packing up and heading for the exit, deciding to test the waters you address him, “I don’t have a boyfriend Professor you see I simply don’t have time, and anyway, none of the boys here are mature enough to interest me.” You turn and give him a smile as you catch his gaze flitting up from where your stockings meet the fat of your thighs, you roll your eyes at him and shake your head as you sigh and leave for the night.

This was an interesting development.

-

Sleep washes over you as you awaken in your dream. Professor Nanami is sitting before you, he beckons for you to sit on his lap, you oblige and as you nestle against his chest, his fingers find the edge of your stocking, he traces lazy patterns on your thigh, eliciting a small sigh of pleasure from you. He nuzzles his nose against your cheek and plants a soft kiss against your neck, he pushes your soft hair behind your ear and begins to litter kisses on your sensitive lobe.

“Sweet thing, you smell heavenly, I just want to devour you.” He whispers. You throw your head back and invite him to suck and nip at your exposed throat, completely vulnerable in his arms you entrust him with your entirety. He groans as you manoeuvre your little waist to create friction with the fat of your ass and you’re met with the impossible hardness between his legs, this moment between the two of you feels like fireworks, everything is at a standstill and there is nothing but your two bodies, completely entwined, obsessed with each other’s perfect anatomy. You continue to explore each other physically as you mewl and sigh rhythmically, nothing has ever felt better than your Professors loving touch on your absolute innocence. You’d been with boys yes, but never a man like Nanami.

“Nanamin,” you cry out as he finds the hotness between your legs.

“Sweet girl, I’ll take the best care of you, just relax.” he speaks like sweet poetry from his mouth that tastes like the most expensive organic honey. Your breath hitches as he starts to disappear, you reach out but he is no longer there.

-

You jolt awake as you feel wetness pooling between your legs, the hotness and lack of friction so unbearable you are torn from the dream of all dreams.

Fuck, this is weird now.

Daydreaming about your Professor wouldn’t be the worst thing if you weren’t now absolutely sopping wet and grinding against your own mattress. You dare to slip a tiny hand under the waistband of your pants and give a little release to yourself, it felt unreal, and without realizing you were picturing him as you drive yourself to the edge and jump off head first. You’re picturing his pretty features and strong hands, his soft lips and authoritarian stare. In your head he’s praising you, “sweet thing, sweet girl” he says. You shudder as you come down from the satiating high and allow shame to encase you completely, rolling over, you stare at the screen of your phone.

5:38. A notification flashes from last night.

baby nobara: maps said you left uni at 7! wtf were u doing?? ps, shopping tmorrow?

You open the notification and type a quick reply.

you: was just studying, nothing important hahahah. sure! meet me at 11?

With that, you roll back over and let sleep nestle you gently between her arms.

-

It’s twenty minutes after your planned meet time that Nobara turns up, and holding a Krispy Kreme bag full of donuts and a doc marten tote housing at least one new pair of shoes, she’d obviously done a pre-shop, not that it was particularly out of character for her. Her gentle face is plastered with a mischievous grin as she runs and embraces you like two sisters might embrace after a long time away from each other’s presence

“I had to warm up before we got started!” she laughs at you, and all is forgiven in a matter of seconds. You’re both giggling as she opens the bag and makes you a peace offering of a strawberry donut, you eagerly accept as you discuss what shops you want to hit up today. You both spend hours browsing, trying on and chatting about everything, you don’t get to see Nobara often as you have alternating days on campus and your schedules clash horribly so the times you do spend together are cram packed full of mischief.

You’re walking past a load of stores as you approach Victoria's Secret and you immediately flash back to Professor Nanamis eyes on your stockings last night and his comment about your supposed boyfriend. Cogs are turning in your mind but before you have time to make the connection, you’re being dragged in, you have no objections and are pleasantly surprised by the variety of lingerie this particular chain of store holds. You pick out a few different numbers including a black corset body suit and a matching garter with stockings, you knew the reason for picking it out was completely inappropriate but it didn’t stop you from taking it to the counter and paying nearly 100 dollars for it. You grinned as you schemed yet another daydream waiting for your friend to decide on the bits she wanted.

You both decide on a little sushi place for lunch and as you fill your mouth with miso Nobara asks, “Who are you fucking? It has to be someone at university, that’s why you stayed so late, right?” The question completely winds you as you try not to choke on your food. Your eyes are watering as you try to explain that it was just extra-curricular studies. Nobara nods and rolls her eyes, “You don’t have to lie to me, I’ll find out sure enough.” She laughs as you pray she lets this go, shovelling some nigiri into her mouth she waves you off. “Chill,” she says as you allow your heart to slow in your chest.

You give her a hug as you finally part ways and she ruffles your hair, “See you around”, and with that she’s gone. You begin the walk home as you reflect on the events of today, you reel as you come to the realization you spent 100 dollars on a lingerie set for a man over ten years your senior who would less than likely ever find out you’d bought it. Unless.

No.

You shake the thought of trying to bait your own Professor after barely scraping by the last term, expulsion for indecent behaviour seems somewhat worse, at least you think. It also doesn’t seem good for Nobara to now suspect you have something going on with somebody, she has to know all the top gossip and you don’t doubt she will find a way. Now that you think about it, you should turn your phone location off. You know your friend would stalk you for the sake of some scandalous news she can tease you about. You giggle to yourself, you and Professor Nanami, what a thought.

-

The bell rings as you finish washing your hands, you stopped to use the bathroom before your final class of the day, Geography. You’d been anticipating this class, having chosen the black corset body suit with stockings to match, you’d paired it with a mid-length black satin skirt and an oversized cardigan, it was enough to feel comfortable in, and not break any regulations but enough for Professor Nanami to notice, which was just perfect. You wanted to test the waters after his comment and wandering eyes, you’d had time to stew over your awful test results and were wondering if maybe he was a little harsh with the grading. Either way, today would tell.

You hurry up the stairs and down the long corridor to the classroom where he lectures, there were around 30 students already settled in class and you could see your Professor writing on the board. You slip in quietly and take your seat at the back of the class, you shed your cardigan, giving a frontal view of your chest and begin to take notes. You ensure you pay full attention to todays class, not taking your eyes off the man at the front of your lecture room. You meet his gaze a few times and you sense him trying really hard to not allow his eager eyes to flit downwards, you wish for him to give you anything more than a feeling to go off of but he’s stone cold and hard as steel. As the class draws to an end Nanami dismisses the students and you wait until the room has emptied before you walk towards his desk. You wait for him to address you.

“Miss Reader, can I help you with something?” he doesn’t meet your gaze and instead continues typing something on his keyboard, you’re frustrated with how nonchalant he’s being, how you’ve probably misread the entire encounter, how you’ve created a whole reality from nothing.

“I, I was hoping maybe you would assist me with some questions I have from the class today Sir, if you have time of course.” If he wanted to play games, he would get games, you might be younger than him but you’re not stupid.

“That’s okay, you’ll have to give me ten minutes whilst I finish this email, then I’m all yours. Feel free to take a seat.” He motions for the first desk in the front row and you roll your eyes as you decide to make a stand. You pull a chair from the side of the room to Nanamis desk and sit directly opposite him, you take out your textbooks and begin to lay them out on the space behind his computer, sitting down you cross your legs, brushing his shin with your shoe. You’re sure you see his jaw tighten, but he plays it off by cracking his neck, the loud crunch distracts from the tension filled silence and you lick your bottom lip in anticipation.

He finishes with his email and pushes the computer screen to the side of his desk then leans back in his chair and loosens his tie slightly, he catches you watching the space above where his shirt is buttoned and smirks, “So what questions do you have sweet girl?”, it’s an innocent enough question but you’re walking a fine line and need to be careful. You make idle small talk about today’s class for an hour or so before asking your Professor to quiz you, it’s a shot in the dark but you’re hoping he will catch on.

“I’ve been revising, ask me any twenty questions, if I get them right you can pass me for that test!” you grin, proud of the compromise you’d come up with.

“It’s a good idea, but what if you get questions wrong? Does the fail still stand?” he laughs quietly, like he made a personal joke that only he understood, he allowed his eyes to trail down to the black floral lace encasing your chest, it wasn’t overly provocative (you were in university after all) but it was enough to make his mind wander. You test the waters again, trailing a finger over the top of the hem, outlining the soft of your breasts, Nanami shuffles in his seat and adjusts his legs, brilliant.

You allow your Professor to test you, answering all questions and waiting for each correct answer like a patient puppy, sitting for its master. At the end of the test you grin, over the moon with yourself for showing him you deserve a passing mark.

“I told you! I told you I shouldn’t have failed. You were definitely marking me too harshly!” You brush your leg against his again, and he doesn’t make an effort to move himself, he drinks you in through the round frames of his glasses that are sitting pretty on the top of his nose.

“Sweet girl, I never thought you were stupid, in fact, I think you’re rather smart. So tell me, why are you really here right now?” He sits forward in his chair and leans across his desk, towards you. Your faces are so close that you can feel his warm and tempting breath on your lips, your eyes close of their own accord and you lean in. He teases you with soft pecks and you fight back, bringing a hand to his chin but he beats you to it. Your hand completely drowned by his own, the sheer size difference a shock to your system, he holds your hand against his desk where your forgotten papers sit. With his other hand he brings his thumb just below your chin and lifts your face so your eyes can meet his, “Is this what you wanted all along? To kiss your Professor? Is this what your little get up today is about? You thought I wouldn’t notice the pretty lace? Do you know how good you look?” His rhetoric questions causing your heart to beat a hole in your chest you inhale sharply, trying to take control of your breathing once again.

“You failed me on purpose.” It’s slipped out before you have time to consider what you’re saying.

What?!

“And if I did? It’s only proved what I thought to be true all along. You’re a little degenerate, like me. I just wanted to test you, to know if you wanted what I wanted. Seems like you do, so tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you’re leaving, I’ll let you. I’m not going to force you to do anything, I respect your boundaries, and I respect that this is wrong. It just, feels so right. So deny it.”

A grown man, your professor nonetheless, sits before you in what feels like a dream, asking for you to stop this.

So stop it.

You take your free hand and pull his face into yours, you’re kissing again, this time with more desperation. It was like you were parched, and Nanami was a stream of fresh water, you couldn’t get enough, and it was like your entire life depended on it. His desk was the only thing stopping you from jumping across and allowing him to devour you whole, you thought about straddling his lap and allowing him to grab the soft fat of your ass. Not yet.

You pull away from the kiss and stand, looking at the man before you, his tie completely loose, a few strands of hair falling on his forehead allowing him to look dishevelled, his glasses slightly steamed up. He was a sight to behold and your heart was beating to within an inch of your life with the idea that you had caused it. Internally you were screaming, DON’T FUCKING STOP. But you had to, had to make sure this wouldn’t be a mistake. You leaned across the desk and picked his glasses off of his nose, placing them on your own and pulling them up, to push the hair off of your face. He looked puzzled and opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted him.

“It seems I have forgotten something, looks like I’ll have to come back to get it tomorrow, what a shame.” And with that, you shot him a grin, turned on your heels, and left. Nanami sat staring at the door in utter shock and awe as you stalked out. He quickly fixed himself up sans glasses and packed up for the day, he muttered something about teaching you a lesson, and spare frames before he left, allowing the leftover tension to dissolve.

[lunarfly]

Ok so I decided to finally post the promised: defending Romione (🥺💗💕💖💞💘) against Dr*mione (ಠಿ_ಠ) shippers.

So I've read a few posts about Dr*mione shippers, talking about why their ship is amazing (which had nothing to do with canon btw) and bashing Ron (for no reason) and I'm literally shaking out of anger.

Here are my thoughts:

1. "Ron is too dumb for hermione"

Stop- Just-

Stop.

RON IS NOT DUMB.

Yes, he might not be very interested in school subjects, but 👏 that 👏 doesn't 👏 mean 👏 he 👏 is 👏 dumb 👏.

He is actually very smart! He beat McGonagall's chess game, he is logical and quick-thinking. There's MANY examples of this that I won't name right now, but it's a canonical fact. Ron. Is. Not. Dumb.

And consider he was dumb. So? Would that stop Romione from happening? NO! Hermione didn't mind Ron not being smart. She was just upset that Ron was lazy and wouldn't study anything until the last minute. She wanted to get both Harry and Ron to study according to a schedule.

Is it clear? Intelligence doesn't determine love.

**And this is something that confuses me. This doesn't have anything to do with the point, but why does nobody realize that Harry isn't much smarter than Ron? Yes, he was better at DADA but that requires TALENT, not intelligence. And I'm pretty sure we all know that Ron is talented as well (hopefully everyone realizes that). Nobody uses the fact that Harry wasn't intelligent against Harmione, but everyone uses the fact that Ron wasn't intelligent against Romione. The double standards tear apart the fandom.

2. "Ron bought hermione perfume and Draco could get her something better."

Soooo, you're saying that just because Ron didn't have the money that Draco had means that Hermione didn't deserve Ron?

Wow, this just says a lot about you dr*mione shippers. You only care about the money that Draco has, not his personality. You don't like Ron because he's poor (and I know how FanFics give the "kind Draco" Ron's canon personality so the only "problem" with Ron is his looks and lack of money). And you don't see Hermione nor Ron the way they are. This "point" of yours is literally stating that Hermione should be a gold-digger and get Draco because he can get her the expensive presents that she deserves. Yikes.

3. "Draco can understand the emotional side of Hermione while Ron can't."

Wait

What?

WHERE DO YOU GET THIS IDEA FROM-

Draco is only EVER concerned about his own self, he is a NARCISSIST. He would NEVER care for someone (let alone Hermione) as purely and truly as he cared about himself. He didn't even care about Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson etc. He was selfish. The only reason he could express his emotions was because he had to go through a lot since he realized that killing Dumbledore wasn't as easy as bullying Hermione. This would never ever work.

And even if Ron didn't understand her as much, he STILL comforted her. Take the beginning chapters of The Deathly Hallows as an example. You'll see.

4. "Ron is too immature."

I need help.

Of course Ron was immature when he was 11!! Yes, he acted immaturely many times, yes, he made many mistakes, but guess what? He changed! He changed for Hermione!! Draco didn't change at all, not for Hermione, nor for anyone else. He remained the same bratty bully.

If you could reread the books and read prisoner of azkaban vs deathly hallows, you will definitely see how much Ron has matured. He doesn't argue with Hermione anymore, he comforts her, he's there for her. Yes, he made a mistake but he was manipulated by the horcrux! We don't blame Ginny for what tom riddle's diary made her do, do we? So stop blaming Ron!

Anyways, I think if dr*mione shippers have read the books, they'll know what I'm talking about when I say Ron changed for Hermione. I honestly don't know how you could miss Ron's character arc.

5. "Ron would be jealous of the brilliant Hermione."

What?

If I remember correctly, the reason Draco bullied the trio was because he was jealous of them. His jealousy turned into a 7 year torture for the trio and now you're saying that Ron is the jealous one? Please.

But anyways, Ron has been jealous of Harry and has made a few mistakes. But there are reasons behind them and I can defend him for each of these with arguments other than "everyone makes mistakes" (cough cough* Draco stans* cough cough).

First of all, Ron has admitted being jealous of Harry's fame because he lives with 5 older brothers who outshine him. But that's not really a mistake because he never let it get in his way. There were only 2 situations in 7 years when he left Harry out of jealousy but I think these have different explainations.

No1 Ron left in goblet of fire. I think the real reason that Ron let his jealousy get in his way this time, was not only because Harry got to participate in the tournament which could bring him eternal glory, but more likely because he was disappointed that his own best friend didn't even tell him that he was entering and didn't even help him participate (which wasn't true, but Ron thought so back then).

No2 Ron left in deathly hallows. This one was 100% because of the horcrux and I think we should all accept this by now and stop hating on Ron for being affected by dark magic.

And just like that, Ron never let his jealousy get in his way of friendships. I can't think of a situation where Ron is jealous of the brilliant Hermione so if you remember, please let me know so I can argue against it. <3

6. "Ron and Hermione would break up and remain friends, it's easy to imagine because they didn't have a strong relationship."

This was actually said, someone actually said this-

I'm just going to say that Ron and Hermione are happily married to this day (which definitely proves that their relationship is strong) and give the dr*mione community a moment of silence.

7. "Ron didn't do anything for Hermione and was just a jerk."

Coming from a person who has read and reread the books multiple times, I can assure you that Ron did many things for Hermione.

Of course, he was immature at first, he was mean to her, but slowly he started seeing more of the good in Hermione and started changing for her.

And even when he was immature, he still cared about Hermione and would protect her no matter what.

Let's remember how many times rubbish Ron stood up for Hermione against the brilliant bully Draco. 🥰

Let's remember how cowardly Ronald faced his fears of spiders to help Hermione (and the rest of the school, just how jerkier can he get?). 🥰

Let's remember how ridiculous Ronniekins stood up for Hermione against sensational Snape and got himself into detention (oh yes, this is the book version of the movie moment where Ron agrees with Snape about Hermione being an 'insufferable know-it-all'). 🥰

Let's remember how rotten Ronny comforted Hermione when she was worried about Hagrid and Buckbeak (and he even let her hug him and cry on his shoulder, how rude). 🥰

Let's remember how revolting Ronald sacrificed himself to save Harry and Hermione in the chess game. 🥰

Let's remember how horrendous Ron attempted to hex Draco when he used a slur that was meant to offend Hermione. 🥰

Keep in mind that all of these were done when Ron was still immature and still argued a lot with Hermione.

And these aren't even all.

8. "Ron and Hermione have a loveless marriage."

What the-

I'm sorry, I'm trying to be respectful here but this is crap. And the fact that the person said they also had "proof" from the c*rsed ch*ld but didn't want to spoil it-

As much as I hate the c*rsed ch*ld, I can tell you that it did its job portraying Ron and Hermione's unconditional love. Even in alternative realities, where they didn't get married, they were still in love.

And why would you even think that Ron and Hermione would marry and have kids if they didn't love each other? I need explainations.

Next.

9. "Ron never listens to Hermione."

I'm sorry, what? I'm genuinely confused??

What do you even mean by this? Yeah, they used to argue a lot, and? Ron thinks Hermione is brilliant and wonderful and he follows her advice. I can't recall a moment where Ron won't listen to Hermione, doesn't agree with her and ruins her plans. Anyone else?

Since this one is a big mess and a confusion, I'll move on to the next one until someone explains the points and arguments.

10. "Draco could make Hermione laugh while Ron couldn't."

....

Do I really need to say anything for this one?

Ron was the funniest one from the trio, that's why Harry enjoyed his company so much! Don't you remember the line in goblet of fire where Harry thinks about how much he misses having Ron as his best friend, because without him there's less fun and less laughs? I do.

But what I don't remember is finding Draco's sense of humor funny. I'm sorry but his intellectual level is almost as low as Crabbe and Goyle's. His insults are none other than Potty and Weaselbee, he only got 3 O.W.L.s and all of his jokes were stupid and dumb and their only purpose was insulting people he was jealous of.

These fanfics have rotten people's brains...😬

Anyways, I'm going to stop here. I've delayed this post for very long and I'm so excited to finally post it!

I read a book on wattpad by a dr*mione shipper and it was nothing but a giant headache. That's where I got all of these statements from. Most of the garbage in the book revolved around Draco and Hermione being inseparable and getting over all obstacles (wth) and other stupid stuff like that which really annoyed me. The book was called "why we love dr*mione" and it was by Bittenwizard. You can read and enjoy! Trust me, you'll have lots of content to post about after that 🤠👍

*I always try to be respectful to all ships, but sometimes some of them really anger me because the ships are either toxic or the arguments are plain trash. I'm sorry if I offend anyone.

Thank you for reading this. If you're a dr*mione shipper, I hope I've convinced you to give up the ship or come up with better arguments for it.

If you're an anti-dramione I hope you enjoyed the post. I'll delight you with more anti-toxic-ships content. :)

Thank you once again! <3