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cassandramaximoff · 3 years ago

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My Lover/s (Eventual WandaNat X reader)

Fic Premise: Fic will start with an established soulmate Omegaverse relationship between a civilian (Omega Fem) reader insert and an avenger (Alpha) Black Widow. Both of them are waiting for their third soulmate. At some point, after some gratuitous smut and fluff, Reader is kidnapped by Wanda during an engagement with the avengers (Hydra removed her other alpha's mark? or something to that effect), and Wanda edits her memories of Reader to make her believe Natasha was her abuser. Finally, after some more gratuitous fluff and smut and angst on the side of Natasha, all three soulmates are united. And thats about as far as I’ve thought. Also if anyone has a way to make those handy masterlists that everyone seems to have that’d be helpful too)

Author's Note and Disclaimer: This is my absolute first fic. After consuming through some of the absolute fantastic works here regarding WandaNat, I thought I'd contribute my own to the treasure trove of Tumblr. This work is in various tenses and prose(much to my dismay). So please let me know anything I can improve on and what you prefer. whether it be short 2-3 sentences and then a break or longer paragraphs(My professors used to say that my reports had a lot of run-on sentences, so I tried shortening paragraphs) But umm, let me know and please feel free to take the premise above and write it better. (just tag me so I can read along)

Eventual Wandanat

Warnings: Slight Mentions of physical and psychological abuse, unhealthy relationship dynamics, strap-on use, orgasm denial, memory alteration(Eventual) F/F, F/F/F. Heat/mating cycles, GxP(eventual) ( If I’ve missed anything let me know)

You woke up in the warmth of your alpha's embrace as Natasha hummed out a good morning as she drew meaningless patterns on your bare stomach. "Morning, my love." You whisper out. Her warm hands move up to cup your breasts, and you remember last night's antics and feel Natasha's strap on at the apex of your thighs.

"Sleep well, Kotenok?" she whispered before peppering kisses into her mark along your neck. You groaned as her lips made contact with your scenting gland. "I always sleep well in your arms, Nat." You say, turning to face her. You'd been together just over two years, and you were still working on breaking what remained of the walls built around Natasha's heart by the Red Room.

You think how far your relationship has come since meeting the assassin from her refusing to acknowledge your existence after you served her shwarma after the Chitari invaded New York. You tried speaking to her as she left. Bruce and Tony tried to get her on to the side of sense. Her rejection left you feeling dejected and worse when your heat hit full force after your body detected your soulmate. And after two days of agony, Natasha finally put aside her pride as her rut was in full force. And while it certainly wasn't the bonding you imagined, Natasha seemed to accept your presence in the tower, but made no effort to further your relationship. You were there as a biological necessity not as someone worthy of love.

It was only after you managed to pin her down. (By straddling her while she was engrossed with some mission reports, I don't think you could pin Natasha) And get her to speak to you honestly. She confessed that she was scared that she'd hurt you. The red room taught her that soulmates were a weakness, a liability, that no one could ever love them after everything they'd done. It broke your heart. But you kissed your alpha's tears away and assured her that nothing could stop you from loving her. You spent every waking moment with your mate reassuring her that she was worthy of love. You’d broken down the walls for the most part but despite Natasha’s Alpha designation she often needed the assurance that you wanted her”

As Natasha continued peppering your neck with soft open, mouth kisses, she pulled you flush with her with the side effect of her strap pressing against your clit. You groaned and involuntarily ground your hips to get some friction. You felt her smirk into your neck. "Is my little omega eager?

Do you want to prepare my strap Detka?

"Natasha, you can’t tease me like this. You have training with your shield recruits all day!" You whined as you ground your core into the veins of the strap. "I'm not teasing, love." She said as she rolled to the edge of the bed, shedding the duvet and carrying you to your ensuite bathroom. "There will be plenty of time for me to please that greedy little pussy of yours."

You wrapped your legs around her back and your arms around her neck as she continued her mouth's assault on her mark on your skin. You heard the water spray, and you get on your own little offensive on her neck. You'd let those shield special weapons trainees that Natasha was claimed as you found her pulse point and sucked. She groaned, adjusting the spray and then activating the rain shower head.

Meanwhile, she stilled your hips as you were unconsciously grinding against her strap. And she stepped into the shower, placing you against the... warmed tiles (She'd obviously adjusted the water spray to warm the tiles for you, and you loved how she paid such attention to your comfort) as the water cascaded down between you. You bucked your hips. "Come now, kitten. You need to use your words."

"I need your strap, Nat!" You lead. "I don't know, love. I'm not quite convinced."She replied, rolling her hips, grinding the silicone into your mound. "Natashaaaaa." you cry out. "Still not convinced, kitten, but I'm not going to leave you aching all day.... not when I can't watch you squirm. How about my tongue?" Your eyes light up, and you nod eagerly. "I need words Detka." She tsks. "Yes, yes, please use your tongue Natasha."

"Alright, love, I'll need you to engage your core here" as she adjusted your legs from around her waist to your calves hanging perpendicular to her shoulders, and she slowly knelt down till she was settled with you against the tiles in a wall sit and her breath against your swollen nether lips. She gave you a few kitten licks before your arms moved towards her crimson hair and tried to alter your angle of approach to stop neglecting your clit. As you let loose a symphony of cries and moans as her tongue makes its way into your snatch, and she finally moved her perfect nose to grind into your clit. And her tongue is replaced with her long fingers and her nose with her attentive mouth as she starts a vacuum around your clit. The coil in your stomach just coils tighter and tighter until it explodes, and your cum is lapped up by your adoring alpha as she eases the pressure on your clit while helping you ride out your release. She taps your jelly legs, and you slowly move them off her shoulders and stand on your own two feet as she rises up to claim your lips. You taste yourself as she plunges her tongue into your mouth. She pulls away and places her forehead against yours, and smiles.

Your voice still shakey after your high "Only you would turn sex into a core workout."

Natasha Smirks. "I'm quite proud of that, actually. It puts me on a time limit before you might start to cramp. Now how about an actual shower? And shall I put your usual breakfast order?"

You tilt your head quizzically, "You're not eating?"

Natasha smirks sinfully. "I already ate my breakfast."

You roll your eyes. "Yes, I'll have my usual (your favourite breakfast food, bonus points for you if it is eggs benedict with a citrus-y hollandaise)"

Natasha took (Your favourite brand/scent) of shampoo from your copious shower shelving. And gave your breakfast order to Friday as she started a lather in her hands before directing you to turn around as she ran it through your hair. The head massage after being eaten out is literally heaven as after she's satisfied with your hair, she moves down to your neck, massaging muscles that needed a little loosening. You can practically hear her comment on how poor your posture is and dread what punishment she'll devise to fix it. (last time, it was balancing books on your head as she had you ride her strap, and for each time they fell, it was another day you'd go without her allowing you to reach release.) She used (your favourite) body wash to remove the evidence of your nightly activities. And use a light luffa to exfoliate your skin. After which, she rinsed you off, and you return the favour.

You loved running your hands through Natasha's shoulder length firey locks and smiled as you heard her purring. And after rinsing her off, she opened the shower door and used a warm towel to dry the both of you off as she inspected the hickey you left her.

"Someone was extra possessive today." she remarked, the light bruising on her neck.

"Well, you are mine, and I don't want any of your little trainees to think theirs any ambiguity." You say as she pads you down with a warm towel.

A chime indicating that your breakfast was ready pings through the bathroom as Natasha moves on toward your shared walk-in robe. (And damn, did you hate to see her go but love to watch her leave) As she slipped into her undergarments and her catsuit. You got into some (Whatever you'd wear for a comfy day where you might see intrusive housemates)

"I'll see you when I'm done with the shield dunderheads." Natasha whispered after kissing the crown of your head.

'Hurry, back to me, my love." You call out as she leaves, and your head to your breakfast.

Authors note 2: Hello again, if you made it this far, THANK you so much for your time!!! Let me know what you think, what should happen next or if I'm terrible and should abandon this

#Eventual Wandanat #natasha x reader #more smut than plot #smut #petname #dom natasha #alpha natasha #blackwidow Smut #alpha beta omega #alpha beta omega dynamics #Omega reader

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roselightfairy · 3 years ago

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Legolas/Gimli Recs: Vignette Series

It’s me, bursting my way from the ether with another unsolicited fic rec list! This one was prompted by the fact that some of my favorite – and, in my opinion, underappreciated – fics of all time still hadn’t made it onto my lists yet, so I had to find a category that at least a few of them fit into. So in this case, the list is vignette collections: fics written as a series of moments in Legolas and Gimli’s lives – some a description of them coming together during the war; others spanning their lives together – each bringing them closer in a new way and tying together into the overall theme of the fic. I’ve divided them into two sections: during the war/the course of the trilogy, and those that reach beyond into their shared lives.

…

During the war:

Journey by Moirai

Summary: They started out as uneasy allies...

…

This is one of my favorite fics, and a particularly underappreciated one since as far as I can tell, it’s not up on many of the main archives and requires a lot of combing to find. This fic is so alive with tenderness that it gives me butterflies, and follows the bittersweet beauty of Legolas and Gimli’s journey into love. The moment of their confessions is one of the most gorgeously intimate bits I’ve read.

Roadways of Searching by @katajainen

Summary: To notice a well-made pair of hands is appreciating. To keep noticing them is distracting. To befriend the person they're attached to... is complicated. Or: where Gimli has very nice hands and Legolas is increasingly flustered and confused because of them. (It all works out in the end.)

…

I know I’ve put this on another reclist, but it wasn’t like I could leave it off of this one. This is such a wonderfully intimate exploration of Legolas and Gimli coming to love one another, following the journey of the trilogy but inserting those shared moments between them in where we dream of having them – and all through the wonderful lens of Legolas’s admiration for Gimli’s hands . . . and then so much more of him.

in contrast with the love by nsmorig

Summary: Legolas blinks up into the sunlight. "It has been some time since we were strangers," he says, as thought he is only just realising this. "Just this morning you called me your friend."

"I did, and I will not recant it unless given a good reason."

"Good," Legolas says, with a startling fierceness. "Good. And— you are my friend, too."

"Poor fool of an Elf, you've gone and done it," Gimli says, and it's light-hearted but he means it. "No getting rid of me now."

…

This story is a lovely look at a falling-in-love – at two people coming together in ways they never could have expected, and yet in ways they could not imagine wishing were otherwise – in nsmorig’s gorgeous, gripping prose.

Bound to You by Angela

Summary: Legolas does not think the way other elves do. He does not do things the way other elves do. He does not want the things other elves want.

And as for Gimli - well, Legolas doesn't know what to think or do or want where Gimli is concerned.

…

This is not only a wonderful vignette series, it’s also an excellent exploration of Legolas – leaning into his description as a “strange elf” and allowing him to defy much of the fanon that has built up around him. It’s a story of curiosity that becomes friendship that becomes something more – but not all in the order we would expect – and it’s a story of two souls coming to recognize that they never want to be parted again. Angela is one of my favorite LOTR writers, and this story is such a gem.

After the war, exploration of shared lives:

Of Rowan and Ruin by Thundera Tiger

Summary: The story of a friendship one hundred and twenty-two years in the making.

…

This fic is probably on every gen Legolas&Gimli lover’s radar – and probably on a lot of shippers’, as well. It’s one of the most beautiful, bittersweet fics I know, and it so gorgeously and achingly describes the way that Gimli and Legolas cleave to one another throughout their lives – and how that might ultimately draw them further away from their own people. This story seized hold of my heart and has never let it go.

(Don’t You Dare) Let Go by @notanightlight

Summary: For a five word prompt "Dont you dare let go!"

Over a life time, you may use a phrase many times. Gimli remembers some of them, all in relation to Legolas.

…

This is a simple enough premise – exploring the same idea through many different moments in shared lives – beautifully executed. This story moves through so many emotions, from fluff to suspense to angst to, of course, the gut-punch of the last few lines, in the unavoidable but beautiful tragedy of this ship. This fic is such a wonderful bite-sized read, and I highly recommend it.

From Forest to Sea – Angela

Summary: Gimli's journey with Legolas started in the forest of Lorien and went all the way to the sea.

This story is written as a series of drabbles and double-drabbles that highlight important (and sometimes less important) moments in their life together.

…

I don’t ever want to actually have to narrow down top-anything fic lists, but if I did ever (heaven forbid) have to choose a top-five list, this fic would likely be on it. It is one of the most gorgeous things I have read, and a showcase to Angela’s ability to distill emotion into the most densely-packed language. It follows Legolas and Gimli through the War of the Ring and beyond in tight drabbles that say exactly as much as they need to, and the whole thing practically sings with intimacy and tenderness and longing and the bittersweetness that must follow them all through their lives. I can’t recommend it highly enough.

…

My usual reminder that this list is in no way comprehensive – I am always limited to what I can think of when I’m compiling these – but a starting point for a wonderful premise that I know other authors have done and will continue to do. As always, please leave the authors a comment if you do stop by to read the stories, and you are welcome to prompt me for more recs if you can think of a trope, genre, or premise you’d like to find fic for!

#my fic recs #fic rec #legolas x gimli

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todaydreambelieversfic · 4 years ago

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Author Spotlight: Honeysucklepink Day 1

Author : @honeysucklepink

How did you get into Glee and Glee fandom?

I was actually an American Idol fan, and I had seen the previews for the show, but I had already been burned on Eli Stone and honestly didn't want to get into a show that would get cancelled after a few episodes. Plus I was watching Lost and it conflicted (I to this day have not invested in a DVR). But the same site that was recapping Idol started recapping Glee, and more annoyingly my sister was watching it (and yet hated Idol). So anyway, fast forward to the end of Lost, and suddenly my Tuesdays were free again, so I decided to tune in to the "Home" episode. This goes to show how influential fandom can be to how a show is perceived. I loved Will, I was charmed by April, I felt bad for Kurt but rolled my eyes at his pursuit of Finn. I think the only thing that has stayed consistent was being WOWED by Mercedes. I watched the rest of the season, and then I'm pretty sure they re-ran it over the summer (I swear I'm sure they did, though even by 2010 most networks had stopped doing summer reruns).

Even through the second season, I kept up with Glee and other shows via sites like MJs Big Blog and Entertainment Weekly. But I never was in FANDOM...not until, honestly, Blaine and Darren. I knew he was coming thanks to an EW news item. I was also watching Californication at the time, and they were using his original music to promote the show (Mia's doing, I later discovered). So my joke for a while was that I kept getting hooked on these singer-songwriters from Fox TV shows (David Cook and Kris Allen from Idol, and now Darren). But also by this time I was liking Kurt more...yes I had thought his pursuit of Finn was inappropriate, but then Laryngitis and Theatricality happened and by the time Never Been Kissed was about to air I was like 'THIS BOY NEEDS SOMETHING HAPPY IN HIS LIFE.' And then Blaine sang, and Kurt smiled, and I was a goner.

But I still wasn't there-there. Not until the following summer. The tour was happening, and of course it was happening NOWHERE NEAR ME, so I followed it on social media. I had a Tumblr, but wasn't using it that much. There was a Glee Forum that I frequented much more (don't even ask what my username was, it's long-forgotten). Also, I was in Seattle for a continuing education thing, and I spent a lot of time on my computer...doing work but also taking a lot of breaks by hanging on the forums. I got sucked in...soon I was doing more fan stuff on Tumblr, drifted from Glee Forum, and well, the rest is history.

In general, what drew you into writing (and/or creating)?

I think like a lot of people it was having stories in my head that I wanted to read and, not seeing anyone else writing them, realizing I had to write them myself. Writing fic for me usually goes much more stream-of-consciousness (thank goodness for betas). Very different from the academic writing that I have to do for my career, which involves a lot of research, structure, deadlines, etc. Being Southern and coming from a storytelling tradition helps. And a little morbid, but I think a little fatalism? Knowing we all die in the end, and the idea of leaving a little something behind, something that's not a kid, but a little part of me, that someone comes across and it means something to them. Even if my actual name isn't attached to it, it's still there.

What was it about Glee that made you decide to write fanfic for it?

It wasn't like my little reader prompts were always going to get the attention of a writer, so sometimes a scene would get stuck in my head and I'd just have to write it to get it out, or a song would get stuck in my head that I wished the show would do. Sometimes it was speculation, or wish-fulfillment...I'd read a spoiler and wonder how it COULD go, or see a song done and go "pfft, not how I would have done it, I'm rewriting this." And um, let's be real, I was at the peak of my sexual health, heck I'm pretty sure the show helped me accept that yep I'm really fucking queer, and there are just some Klaine scenes that the ol' Fox Network ain't gonna show you...

Have you been a part of other fandoms before? Have you written fanfiction pre-glee?

I posted in fan communities... I was on an E! board for The Girls Next Door for a while, I was a frequent poster on college football message boards, and of course I was on some boards for Idol (and regrettably, Vote For the Worst). But those communities didn't always stick to the fandom object...like half the time on the GND boards we didn't talk about GND at all! And re: fanfiction, I never read it until season seven of Idol... there was a David Cook saga I really got into (because there was intrigue and stalking and drama), that in retrospect was very much a self-insert Mary Sue (I know that term is fraught but in this case it was SO deserved), there were quite a few "Mavid" one-shots that were pretty juicy, and oh lord there was a D/s with Clay Aiken that, if you try not to actually picture CLAY FUCKING AIKEN, was hot. I really wasn't reading a lot of LGBTQ fic. My one hand at writing fic was as a joke...there was an off-shoot of the VFTW blog, and I wrote an RPF hetero scene of Kris Allen and his wife. To this day I cringe at that. I didn't touch writing fic again until Glee and Klaine.

Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

I haven't really done a true "enemies to lovers" fic, but I'd like to try it sometime. Or fake dating, that's one I'd need to get inspired by the right set-up.

Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

I can't do incest, not even in a "well technically they're stepbrothers so it's not REALLY..." Yes really it's still a NOPE. And while there have been slave fics I've really liked, like the "Def" verse? Um, I'm from the American South, my ancestors go far back enough, fuck no I'm not writing a slave AU.

How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Oh lord, there's maybe two or three...there's one that has the premise written, that I don't know if or when I'll finish it, that has Kurt as a quarterback and Blaine as a center (the guy who is bent over right in front of the QB that passes him the ball), and it's solely inspired by a college football player that waxed poetic at a press conference about what kind of butt a good center should have, and I'll let you fill in the blanks.

***

Check out Honeysucklepink’s Fics

A Place That's Safe and Warm - Writer and blogger Blaine Anderson just wanted to have a few drinks, hook up with his friend Kurt, and pretend for a little while that his adopted city of Boston hadn’t been attacked. He meant to make a quiet exit the morning after, but overbearing parents, a cranky roommate, and the justice system had other plans.

Later On, We'll Conspire - My "naughty" fic for Klaine Advent 2015: Kurt and Blaine get snowed in, with an empty loft and an extra-special gift basket from Santana (takes place in Season Five, pre-5.14).

Somebody Loves You - My "nice" Klaine Advent 2015 fic: missing scenes from Glee Season Six. Chapter titles are the prompts.

#author spotlight #honeysucklepink

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ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 4 years ago

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Help with Homework

Summary: Author felt like doing a self-insert/no character mentioned fic where the first person gets cuddles from Logan. Sushi I mean sue me. Yes, I have done that actual essay before and got a B on it.

Word Count: 805

Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01 @spoopy-turtle @lizluvscupcakes @far-too-many-fandoms-to-die

I was so focused on what I was doing, I hadn’t noticed someone else joining me until I paused to look for my pencil. “Where did you go?” I muttered as I searched the coffee table and stuck my hand between the couch cushions.

The pencil dangled in front of me. Looking up, I found myself staring into Logan’s eyes. He smiled before putting it down on the coffee table. “What are you doing?”

I sighed, looking at the mess of papers and books with my tablet on my lap. “Trying to do homework.”

“When’s it due?”

I paused, mentally running through my calendar. “Uhhh, Saturday, I think.”

He nodded. “And what day is today?”

“Wednesday.”

He nodded again. “Is there anything stopping you from doing the homework at a later date?”

It was my turn to nod. “I have a full day of classes tomorrow, I need to do some cleaning on Friday, and it’s due Saturday morning. I don’t have any time to do it but now.”

“Is there anything else you have to do today?”

“I still need to do the homework for another class.”

He nodded, standing from his crouched position. Walking behind the couch, he patted me on the head before disappearing into the kitchen. My eyes followed him around the couch but my attention was already drifting back to the essay in front of me even before his pat ended.

I don’t know how much time passed until his return. When he did return, he had in hand a plate with a sandwich and a cup of juice. He placed both on the coffee table in front of me before sitting beside me. “Would you stop for a second?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I can only work on this for another hour or so before I have to switch over to the other homework and I need to make as much of a dent as possible.”

He put a gentle hand on my wrist, saying my name softly. “Stop for a minute, okay?”

I nodded, hands stilling. I looked up at him, his eyes clear and gentle behind his glasses. He smiled at me. “You’ve been squinting more than usual.”

I shrugged. “Probably been staring at the screen for too long.”

“What are you working on?”

“An essay for my writing class.”

“What is the premise of it?”

“I have to pick an advertisement that fits certain parameters, then I have to analyse it to an inch of its life, and finally, I have to say if it is a good or bad ad and how it could be better. It’s a nightmare!” I threw my hands up in frustration, almost knocking the tablet off my lap as I did so.

He nodded thoughtfully. “What are the parameters?”

So, step by step he helped me break down the essay until I had a list of steps I could follow. I sighed, feeling like I could actually manage to pull it off. I leaned back, letting myself sink into the couch rather than keep my hunched form hovering over the keyboard. “Thanks.”

He smiled, leaning forward to pick up the sandwich and now room temperature juice. “Take a few minutes to eat and drink. Once you get some sustenance in you, then you can think again.”

I picked up the glass of juice and took a sip. Before I could take a bite of the sandwich, Logan had his hands on my hips. He lifted me into his lap, arms winding around my waist. “What are you doing?”

He nuzzled into my hair. “Getting some quality time in and making sure you eat.”

I shrugged, used to him by now and finished eating. I patted his arm and he allowed me enough room to lean forward and place the dishes on the table, grabbing a stack of papers and the tablet. Settling back in, I let my back rest against his chest. I smiled, loving the warmth. He leaned to his right a bit and grabbed the remote, turning on the Discovery channel and putting on subs so he could keep it muted.

“You don’t have to do that.” I comment. “I can work with the noise. It’s nice to have some ambiance, you know?”

He dropped a kiss on top of my head and turned the sound back on, turning the subs off. We stayed like that for two, almost three hours, before I finally leaned my head back and to the side, kissing the part of his throat I could reach. “All done.” I murmured.

He smiled down at me. “Great. Now, I am making the decision that you can work on your other piece of homework later. For now,” he took my things and placed them on the coffee table, “I want you all to myself.”

#logan sanders #fanfic #sanders sides #self indulgent #ace writes

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hecohansen31 · 5 years ago

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Angel:

Post-Prison! Duncan+Reader.

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

How are you?

I hope that summer is treating you well... in here it’s hot as hell (except Hell is cold... so maybe that isn’t the best idea... sorry).

The idea of this series (since if you have seen the preview, you know this will be a three part series, and the other two will be about MIchael Langdon and JIm Mason) is linked to my mixed feeling towards the petname “angel” and the ideas that nickname brought in my mind, if linked to our boys.

With Duncan I just felt soft and sweet, so yeah.. this came out.

But before I go on with the story, since we are talking about “Post-Prison!Duncan”, I wanted to give a shoutout to all the amazing people who wrote about this topic before (because they did it better, so... if you want a proper fic...).

@langdonsinferno, (”Long Road Home” literally started it all) @langdvnshepherd, @michael-langdon-appreciation (those headcanons *insert the fire emoji here*), meanwhile @lvngdvns is working on a dark! Duncan prison letters idea, so check also that out!

If you have any other authors or fics you liked about this subject, hit me up and I will add it to my lists of fics I love with all my heart!

(In the meantime I really hope you will like what I wrote!).

SUMMARY: Duncan is more than happy to meet his angel, the one girl who saved him after his prison experience, easing all her insecurities and finally giving her the reward she well-deserved.

WORDS: 1,8K

WARNINGS: Mention Of Prison Life, Very Innocent Reader (not too prudish, but if you are in for a darker or more experienced reader, this might not be for you), Mention of Oral sex and Slight Angst.

She had made a name for herself during Duncan Shepherd’s reign of terror: the only employee who could walk in smiling sweetly and avoid Duncan biting her head off or barking some insult.

Her positive behavior was accompanied by her usual gentleness which had made the entire office nickname her “angel”.

She had just rolled with it, gently and shyly saying that nickname didn’t belong with her, in the slightest but her sweet and nice gestures, done without expecting anything in exchange had made her an “angel” in front of her colleague’s eyes.

Even in front of Duncan’s eyes.

Even more after he had come home from is prison experience, calling her into his office, the day he had finally returned back to his work.

She had been one of the few who stuck around after he had been condemned.

Instead of running away as many had done, she had taken the reins of his office, running it in his stead.

This had avoided him losing everything, and he had, somehow, mantained a role in his job and a few loyal employees which gave him enough hope to move on over the “Shepherd Freedom Foundation” incident.

All thanks to her.

That’s why he had called her in his office, later on that day.

She had seemed surprised but what surprised her even more was his ask to close the door behind her.

Unless you were going to get fired, the doors were always open, so that any reprimand Duncan had to shoot your way would be recorded and witness by any other employees not only an intimidation tactic, but also a way to let the other employees know not to fuck up Duncan Shepherd’s precious work.

So, she wasn’t exactly light-hearted, to say the least, in receiving the order, but she complied.

Her insecurity shone on her face, meanwhile her uneasiness took over her hands, which trembled slightly and she rubbed them together in order to stop the tremor, but it didn’t go unnoticed to Duncan.

He invited her to take a seat in front of him, ignoring her protests of “no I feel more comfortable, standing here”.

Standing would have helped her keeping the regular distance between them, since she had never moved closer to him, no matter what.

Only through her letters to him in prison she had opened up to him, even going as far as to visit him a few times, even joking about him having gotten arrested just to avoid all the office bullshit she was now dealing with.

(He could only imagine the amount of shit she had had to deal with, after his arrest: she had had to reassure the investors, deal with his mother and convince his employees to work for free for a bit, because of his frozen bank accounts…).

He had honestly loved those visits and had dreaded the barrier that separated him.

But here there was no barrier now…

… except, well… her own stubbornness.

-I am not going to fire you, (Y/N) …I thought I was clear about my admiration for you- he stated, and she seemed surprised as if in their letters he hadn’t opened up about how much he appreciated her for doing what he couldn’t.

He admired her not only because she had stood up behind him all this time, but because when the time had come she had taken his place, doing the best she could, and he couldn’t have been grateful enough.

He honestly didn’t know what would have happened without her help, although she always dismissed her work.

“You would have done the same, Mr Shepherd, had our positions been reversed”

(He actually had joked that she wouldn’t have been stupid enough to get caught, just to hear a “I wouldn’t have broken the law in the first place, or I wouldn’t be so angelic anymore, would I?”)

She took a deep breath, before indeed following his order, which gained a mental “good girl” from him.

She was still nervous, squeaking on her feet.

“Sorry”s and “thank you”s were her favorite words, apparently.

-… I actually wanted to reward you, for being such an angel, during my time apart from this office- he felt her attention spike up at the mention of her usual nickname, although she wasn’t supposed to be surprised.

It was how all their letters started: “My Dear Angel”.

At first it was mocking, wanting to distance himself from the only good thing which had been left in his life.

He had thought she would eventually grow tired of him, the harsh words, the arrogant tone and his dirty past.

He had even confessed her that he was nothing but a fraud, his true origins and she had just mumbled something about “how noble adoption was”.

“My mother was just a jealous bitch who needed an heir for her stupid company, a puppet for her ideas” he had replied, seeing a sad look settle in her eyes, and her hand move towards him, blocked by the wall of glass as if she wanted to grip his, and there he had almost started crying.

“�� she might have been a jealous bitch, but you still consider your mother, and that is ok, it will take time to realize everything and you have enough…” she had joked, looking around “… and you have me if you need anything”.

He had then joked about the fact that he had never heard her curse, just to get a little smirk from her and a smirking plead not to tell her mother about it.

He had started feeling more comfortable with her.

And slowly he had understood that she would stick around no matter what.

That she actually wanted to help him, with no fake premise or interest of her own.

-Oh, a reward? – she seemed confused, meanwhile he gently moved further on the desk, his hand, coming around her face, framing it gently, putting an hand on her chin and the other near her hair, brushing it away from her face, not shielding her precious face from him anymore, revealing her gentle beauty -…there is no need for it, Mr Shepherd-.

-You know better than to use Mr Shepherd- he said, a bitter note in his voice and she immediately lowered her eyes, meanwhile he tried to keep some control, not wanting rage to influence his emotions, when she was so delicate that he was sure that a scream would make her bend in the wrong way -… I am not a Shepherd, just Duncan is fine, mostly because it’s just the two of us-.

She nodded slowly, her cheeks heating with embarrassment and confusion, but it didn’t stop Duncan from making good on that promise he had made to himself when he was still in prison, kissing her softly, gently, his grip not too strong and the pressure on her lips not too rough.

She whimpered, on his lips, but then melted slowly in the kiss, the slowness of it lulling her gently in a rhythm, which he accelerated through a gentle stroke of his tongue against the contour of her lips, asking for more, but not daring to do anything till he got his angel’s approval.

After his third year, the letters, he had sent her, had been filled with thoughts about her, about feeling her body against his and her lips against his, at first more chastely and then, encouraged by her gentle and calming words, with a tiny bit of a flirty attitude, he hadn’t thought she owned.

It had all become more passionate.

And now he was finally doing it, no barrier between them, except his desk, and her smile in full quality on her face.

It hadn’t changed much: still the same deer-eyes, still that gentleness in the curve of her lips and also that remissive nose, stuck down in nobody’s business.

-… I thought you didn’t want to see me…- she mumbled on his lips, her eyes changing to a more worried shade, almost betrayed -… you refused to let me pick you up and spent a month away from me, without letting me know nothing-.

She wasn’t accusing him, but self-doubting herself.

She was scared he might have found her just a passing light in the darkness of his pit, during his prison time, but now that he was back, free and all too powerful, he wouldn’t need her… and she wasn’t too amazing, not on his level…

He had just used her to pass a dark period, because of her gentleness and naivety.

Many boys had done it, with her personality.

But if Duncan was something… he wasn’t definitely “many boys”.

-I needed to pick myself up, before I could bring my old ass here and talk to my sweet and pure angel- he replied, immediately stopping her self-deprecating train, and she raised her head at his words, surprised, and he took it upon himself to kiss that surprised expression off her lips, tasting, indeed, the sweetness of heaven -… I am sorry, I let you think you weren’t good enough, but the truth is that I thought for so long that all the bad things in me would taint you, so I had to wait till I felt like all those thoughts vanished, before coming to you-.

She looked shocked, before moving forward this time to be the one to kiss him.

It was much more than a kiss.

It was a show that she wasn’t scared in the slightest of tainting herself with him, that she didn’t care enough for it, and meant every single word.

It brought Duncan almost to tears.

He only wanted to bring her to his new secluded home, to his bedroom, hide under the cover with her and gently cuddledtill he felt like her presence brought peace to what roared inside of him.

It would take time and he was scared that she might turn back, as soon as he saw how broken and tainted he truly was…

… but he thought it was worth giving it a shot.

He couldn’t say no to his sweet, angel, could he?

-I am here for you, no matter what- she simply states, as if it was easiest of facts, before gently kissing his forehead.

-… and I think you need a little reward for that- he promised, a mischievous glint in his eyes, before he raised from the desk, circled around it till he was behind her, then he moved the chair to turn her around so that he could face her.

He then lowered himself till he was right behind her legs, she blushed understanding perfectly what he was doing, a hand covering her eyes ashamed.

-… those letters didn’t tell me what pretty sounds you can make, little angel- he smirked, his hand raising her skirt, meanwhile lacey red lacey panties were revealed to him: after all she wasn’t exactly an angel -… or how sweet you taste… and I think it’s time I finally find out-.

---

So... lovelies... I hope you liked this new series, this is only the start and Michael is coming next.. so... be ready for that and please let me know what you think about it with reblogs, hearts or asks and messages (I don’t bite... too hard, and I would love to know what you think about this).

Also here it is the tag-list (if you want to be added shot me a DM or an ask!).

@so-langdon @1-800-bitchcraft @emmyrosee @blakewaterxx @rocketgirl2410 @ladynuwanda @w0nder-marie @bitchchatter @eternalnostalgia @chirpdesu @dreamxcollide @head-full-of-thougts @lonely-cloud @im-the-music-whore @orendamill @ayeayecaptaingally @loveofmonsters @kleineshaschen @dramapenguinthe3rd @drama-penguins @vampirefairyestelle @youshouldbescared @hplotrfan @a-exmrie @meandmystrangehabits @lovelylangdonx @britishmoonchild

(If you liked the teaser and haven’t been tagged... I am sorry... tumblr woldn’t let me tag you).

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd fic #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd smut #duncan shepherd moodboard #duncan shepherd fanfic #michael langdon #michael langdon fic #duncan shepherd x female reader #michael langdon smut #cody fern #michael langdon moodboard #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon x reader #post prison duncan #hoc #hoc image

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smolbeandrabbles · 5 years ago

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Selfish Pt.5 - Sheriff of Nottingham x Reader (Robin Hood 2018)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Author’s Note: I’ve genuinely been waiting to use these lyrics since March. And I must have written this... December/January? But I needed to get here!!! And it’s taken me an age, but here we are!!!

Disclaimer: ...Haha, just ditto every previous version of this! Premise: She’s had enough, and she’s gonna show him what he’ll be missing if he continues this game... Words: 6573

Warnings: Sex... just edges smut? Maybe? 3rd Person Reader Insert

________ Don't tell me that you got better plans For those velvet hands, they're in demand Don't tell me that you're not a little curious Don't be so serious, it can be only us If you want more than your eyes on me, You can let me know privately RSVP Bring your love to me, It's an open invitation to an all-night situation If I'm where you wanna be RSVP I'm a fun party, yeah All you gots to bring your loving 'Cause I ain't wearing nothing Nothing you can't take off me

---

It had been more than just a few days, but she couldn’t take it. She didn’t want to see him any more than she had to, not right now. The conversation was short, and polite. The Sheriff could apologise in Norse all he wanted, but it clearly meant nothing to him if he was going to do the same thing over, and over, and over… She was hell bent on ignoring him entirely. Only she didn’t want to show that attitude in front of her brother… Too good for her own good. It’ll get better… It has to get better… Hearing it from Tuck, or just simply knowing he’d been to confessional was something she could block out, after all – The Sheriff could be confessing anything. Everyone was supposed to confess something. But seeing him do it. It broke her heart. But she still watched him walk away with so much longing. Because she wanted him so badly. And it was getting even worse now. Why could they have him when she could not? Why would he not just wait for her…? So she occupied her time exploring the city on horseback; she had been allowed to keep her blue war horse Eyhamel from home. And she had spent a little bit of time (maybe too much time) complaining to him (and crying to him) in the stables whilst he adjusted. But Marcus had noticed this; pretending he didn’t or keeping his mouth shut for his own good he didn’t exactly know, all he knew was he wasn’t about to go to the Sheriff with it. And so one day around the castle, he suggested she come with him for a ride around Nottingham. “…For both defence purposes… you can see the city better when its not drawn on a map, don’t you think?” He gave a reassuring smile “And… when you get married… a city over which you will preside.” Her face almost fell at the notion, but she took a breath and turned her eyes upon the pieces of the city that she could see from the walkway. “…I’d like that…” He thought she might, it was time she got out of here, and spent a little bit of time away from the Sheriff. Marcus thought they were good together, so if he could help to cool things down a little he would endeavour to do so. Askel was walking briskly towards them, and Marcus thought there was no better time than now for this either; “…We could take your brother too, don’t you think?” She turned, with a bigger smile, and repeated herself; “I’d like that. A lot.” Marcus had spent a little bit of time with Askel himself; but thought to Nordic man was just a little too extreme sometimes. Why don’t you execute people like this or this or THIS! It made Marcus pay closer attention to his own facial expressions, he guessed. The three of them enjoyed wandering, and Marcus found himself becoming fast friends with both of them. He knew she was never going to treat him like a second in command, she never gave off that air; and he thought that one of the things she needed most right now was a friend. Marcus knew she had Tuck, but he provided her with something a little more down to earth. And beside her brother, the only warrior she interacted with like this. The rest of the guys liked her sure enough, but they were also slightly scared of her… Or in awe… or both. Askel, getting to grips with his English language, was funny and had a sharp tongue to match his sharp wit. She would often hit him or push him if she found him saying something she deemed inappropriate. Siblings…! And even though he was older, Marcus noticed that Askel listened to what she said. She’s fierce… She’s respected… When we get her out here and we give her something to defend… and she has to attack… she will be more than just a force to be reckoned with. She could probably guard Nottingham by herself. Marcus suddenly had a better thought as his head swivelled to her, now sharing in a Norse joke, the way she laughed and looked harmless. No one would ever know what she was to look at her. If she was going to remain at the Sheriff’s side… She’d be better than a personal body guard. Well, Marcus… First they have to smooth things over… Soon enough he found himself racing through the streets with her alone, she and her horse could move quick, and he’d often lose her around turns and bends, and find her 5 minutes later folding her arms and wondering where he’d got to. She was becoming more and more independent. And now she carried that map around and started marking out plans. Marcus knew she was nearly ready. She could handle all this on her own already, he reckoned. Lucian would give her complete control soon; and she would do well to shake things up. People could become accustomed to the way Nottingham defended itself. Let’s see them defend against her! Of course these solo outings between the two of them, wending through the lower parts of Nottingham, and as close to the mines as he dared to take her right now. Had her asking all the important questions. And he knew she was getting used to it being her city. A City that would soon look to her for answers, as much as it would her husband to be. Looking to her to protect them, and to care for them. Marcus watched the way she surveyed everything, how she smiled at the people passing her by, and greeted them. She could do both, and he knew she would do them impeccably well. Which led to at least a small frustration of his own with his Sheriff. Could William not see what he had? Or could he simply not see what he was doing to her by continuing down the route he’d always been on. Did William just think about consequences later? Or did he think consequences wouldn’t apply to him…? Marcus learned a lot about the Sheriff from her. But it was mostly in the form of complaints. Which he would never repeat, but had him laughing; even when he was sure by the look on her face he shouldn’t have been laughing. But he felt it was good to know, and he asked questions he felt important to his status. If he was to defend this city, he would think defending the most important man in it was also a top priority. And she seemed to know everything he did and everywhere he went. What better woman in Nottingham to know?! Today when they rode back into the stables Marcus noticed how curious she got about the ebony horse in the far end. He’d watched her watch him before; but today as she unbridled her own and led him to his own stable she approached the horse herself. “Careful Y/N…” She turned to him, eyebrow raised “Why?” “He’s a good horse… But, he has an odd temperament. And I’ll tell you this, he’d not ridden half as often as he aught to be.” She stopped by the gate to his stable and watched him calmly; if he wanted to come to her, he would. “What’s his name?” “…Vesper.” “Vesper?” She repeated a word fairly foreign to her. “Yes… As in, Evening.” There was some mythology to the name also that he’d heard rambled about, but didn’t really understand. “Clever.” She said it softly, noticing the white blaze down the horses face “His rider would probably think so, I don’t think you aught to be giving him so much credit. They have the same temperament in fact…” Marcus hung up his own tack “…Fitting really!” She lent her head on the wooden structure; the horse looked powerfully built, tall, lean – underutilized. He looked ready to run – it made her suddenly sad. “To whom does he belong?” “Uhm.” Marcus bit his lip “…The uh… man you are bound to marry.” She dropped her gaze; why did that even surprise her? “He used to ride quite a lot, you know? Vesper is pretty quick. Exceedingly calm in crowd and damn steady. If… a little unruly… Unfortunately once you become someone as powerful as the Sheriff is, going out on a horse solo is not exactly safe an-” As he turned back to her, his eyes widened. Only she--!!! She could quite believe it herself as the horse wandered to her, she outstretched her hand slow and calm as he stopped just shy of her. But Vesper let her run her hands over his muzzle, and took another few paces to let her continue to stroke him. She placed her forehead to the horses and closed her eyes. From where he was Marcus couldn’t quite hear what she was murmuring, but he knew it was Norse. She opened her eyes again, and there was a sheen to the sadness in her eyes – he knew she was going to cry again. “…Seems like you and me are the same… Vesper…” Her head shake was gentle “…Don’t worry, darling, we’re going to change that…” *** Sitting on her bed, in her room in her night dress made her sigh in complete discontent. She didn’t want this. She knew what she did want, and she wasn’t there yet, but she sure didn’t want this. The Sheriff’s own decisions were driving her to this – but at the same time it killed her that every other woman here was having him and not HER. She wasn’t going to marry him until she knew for sure he was hers – but he still had to propose to her; and all this courting back and forth was less than successful, because he had a whole bunch of courtesans he would call upon whenever he wanted (and would like to join him at the lavish parties Nottingham could apparently afford to throw.) Her one consolation prize was every time she walked away from him, in jealousy or disgust, Wil would literally get down on his knees and beg her to stay. And sometimes it really was pathetic. Sometimes she thought it would be best for both of them if she sailed back home – her father would not be pleased, she knew. But surely once she gave her reasoning it would be completely understandable. The problem was she was in love. Or, she was in love with the thought of being in love. He wasn’t what she expected – not hearing about him, nor upon beholding him for herself… He was smart – this flicker of genius he seemed to keep hidden behind the game he was playing. He was as gentle as he was ruthless; and he drew her in as much as he scared her. He was cunning, and calculating, and his power was all in his money. Or so they all thought. She saw through that, but she couldn’t get through to that. He was a rich, powerful, single man. No wonder women threw themselves at him, and no wonder he revelled in that. She was here to marry him, and until he made the decision to walk her on down the aisle, she was stuck waiting on him. The Sheriff knew she couldn’t really go anywhere – but he COULD show her off. He infuriated her because he knew he had her trapped; he infuriated her because any time he would turn his attention to her, she had the opportunity to revel in him. When his eyes were on her she was the only woman in the world, and for a few seconds, minutes, hours maybe Wil could make her believe that he could be faithful…

Well. She simply couldn’t take it anymore.

She rose from the bed and opened the door. The halls of the castle were dark, save from the flicker of torchlight every so often. After dinner she had retired up here and she hadn’t heard anyone come by, so he wasn’t in his own room. Which meant neither was anyone else; good. She knew exactly where he would be… She trod softly on her way to the balcony that overlooked the square. Any time he had to think he went there… Sweeping silently through the rooms, dark here apart from any moonlight and starlight allowed to stream through the windows. He’d left the last set of doors out onto the overlooking walkway open and the breeze left a slight chill across her skin. She stood and watched him, not knowing if he was looking at the stars; at God. Or to the city, his people. Seeing himself as somewhere in between? She watched his shift in position, his back straightened and he pulled his feet from one behind the other to together. His hands found their usual position on the balustrade and she watched his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. The Sheriff didn’t hear at first. He had far too much to think about, too much weight on his mind. But he was always cautious – there was just something that always niggled him about having his back to anyone. He guessed with the way he’d grown up it was only natural to be wired into him. He could feel a presence, but it didn’t feel malicious… It certainly snapped him from his thoughts enough to have him take up a more alert position. As he moved the silver concealed knife pressed into his skin, and that at least made him feel safer. “What do you see?” She stepped out onto the balcony, keeping slightly apart from him, he could hear every step she took now, her dress brushing against the stone, then the wood. When William hesitated in answering, she voiced her question again “…When you look out there, what do you see?”

He bit his lips together and swallowed whilst he thought on his answer; “Quiet. For once I see quiet.” He drummed his fingers gently on the polished wood “I see a city full of potential I can’t quite unlock, full of people who love me for the wrong reasons or hate me for the wrong reasons and I’m not sure I know which is which. Hell, maybe they hate me for the right reasons… I see things I have worked for become fruitless, as much as I see happy accidents taking on forms I could have hardly imagined…” He turned to her “…But what I hate seeing most is a woman to whom I cannot give what she wants… I am trying… But I…” he looked away again “…She is like this city… The difference is the city voices its discontent regularly… You only look at me with this distain I know you feel. And I do not blame you or the city for your feelings.” She looked across to him, with a kind of respectful interest, she was right. He was smart, old habits apparently just wouldn’t die. He hadn’t looked back to her as he squinted out over the roof in front of him; “What do you see?” She smiled, and followed his line of sight “I see my future. A future I’m trying to build in my head. If I am to fulfil my purpose here… A future I cannot build alone… In a country I do not know, with a religion I do not understand… But I wish to.” looking back to him, as his eyes were now back on her. The blue turned silver by the moonlight, his eyes betrayed a sadness, but it was deep. And she could already tell it something that was meant to stay hidden; “…I just can’t build that future, in this city alone.” “…I will not be much of a future.” She took a step towards him “You are the only future I have. And whether I like it or not you’re the only future I want.” “…You have no idea how many times I’ve been to confessional about this… I am no good for you, and your father should never have trusted me with you…” She searched those eyes for something that wasn’t hurt, but there wasn’t anything. The Sheriff was a broken man; he was just acting this part. And in that moment she wasn’t even sure if she could put those pieces back together. “I believe in my fathers’ judgement. And I know he was right.” Taking another step forced him to turn towards her, and she closed the gap to just shy of respectful “And I’m right too. All I ask is to be the only woman… It doesn’t surprise me that it is hard for you. I just suppose I might have expected you to try harder. Only I realise that my demands are slightly one sided…” She looked back out to the city “…I want it to be your answer too.” She slid her hand across the railing to meet his and William looked from her face, her eyes bright and hopeful, to the city too; “I want you to see your future when you look at Nottingham, but more importantly… I want you to see your future when you look at me, too.” He made the move to link his fingers with hers, turning the gap between them to mere inches; “…It is not hard to wish I could…” His eyes began to search her’s too, whatever he was trying to find deep inside her too was out of reach, for different reasons. She realised there would be a disconnect as long as what was inside her was not reaching out for what lay deep inside him. She was scared. She was scared that if she gave herself to him, truly gave herself to him, that he would have exactly what he wanted from her, and have his other women too. But what if that wasn’t the case? And she herself was the only person who could change that. “You can. We are both guilty of the same thing. And we need to stop fighting it.” She closed the gap between them without even pause for thought or breath. Holding his hand just a little tighter she reached for his other and found it. Now she just had to find whatever else she was looking for. The problem was she didn’t know what it was. The kiss was longer than she anticipated, and she had to break it to breathe herself. It had done something to him she didn’t realise until she was looking into his eyes again; and he kept his closed for a good number of seconds. Savouring everything – now his nails were digging into her soft skin; he was asking her because he couldn’t voice it, he couldn’t voice the vulnerability not to leave. He wasn’t down on his knees begging but she could see it in his eyes. She took a few steps back, with a confident smile; “You need to know what you would be missing… letting me go…” She didn’t let his hands go until the very last second she could. Their eyes still locked, and his slightly wide as he caught on to her meaning. She backed down the steps and only turned at the door – she was sure he would follow her…

She was slow enough as she traced her way back through the castle, every so often as she rounded a corner, or walked through a doorway, she would look back to make sure Wil was still following her. He was, his steps slow and deliberate… She got to her room door and stopped, she heard him stop further down the corridor… and she wondered… if he would… She turned, her expression voicing her question. Here…? The Sheriff’s face remained stoic, but deadly serious as he gave a slow shake of his head. And he loved the smile he received back… Her heart fluttered at the thought of what was about to happen. From his string of lovers he kept around she knew this, none of them ever made it to his own chambers… She took a breath, new, relaxed and full of confidence she started her walk, at renewed pace, towards his room… She reached the door and placed her hand to it, turning one last time to watch him; this time he didn’t stop. His eyes locked on her as he walked, one foot in front of the other – more like a stalk than anything – slow and deliberate, towards her. The wood was heavy but she didn’t take her eyes off him as she opened it. She didn’t know if she was scared or excited that she didn’t know what he would do the second she took her eyes off him. Especially here… She slipped inside and for a minute felt like she might begin running. She didn’t when she didn’t hear him do what she expected. He must have been in as much anticipation of her as she was him… All the shutters were open; with no lit torches the room was bathed in silver light. It was beautiful… The room was large, huge in fact; she walked slowly forward, the smile on her lips at just the mere thought of being quite possibly the only woman to see this. At least the only woman of his. The bed was huge, four poster – she couldn’t tell if the sheets were white and grey in his colours – or if the lighting was turning them those shades. She wondered how much he actually slept in here; between work and other woman… He even had a desk in here; papers and books strewn all over it; at least three candles burned completely down and one well on the way… The breeze was also present here; making her hold herself for a moment. She heard the door close behind her, and suddenly became very aware of the beat of her heart. With the strike of a match the room was suddenly bathed in a warmer glow. She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder; aware she was still holding herself. He was taking breaths she could still see, and his eyes were studying her through her dress. The dip of her spine, the curve of her hips… everything he couldn’t see, but could imagine… Wil almost let out a contented hum. She was from the Nordics; notoriously cold – how hot could she love? The Sheriff realised as he surveyed her, he was already thinking of his future. She moved her hands up to her shoulders; now looking away from him she slid the sleeves of her dress down her arms. It was not a move he expected her to make… He wouldn’t even have to undress her?! The fabric slid down her body; exposing more of her to him until she let gravity do the work, and the light, soft nightdress pooled to the floor. He bit his lip trying to hold his groan in. And he had to give himself a minute; affording her to look back shyly over her shoulder to see him fighting the urge to storm over and throw her straight on the bed right now. In both the low torch light and the glow of the moon every single definition of her body was beautiful, where there were flaws – she was flawless. Her muscles were toned and defined by years of being a Shield Maiden, and no woman he had ever been with had that. The Sheriff relived himself of his jacket, and made his way slowly over to her. He had to be careful; he’d seen the flicker in her eyes as she turned away from him once more. She was scared – he’d already guessed she may have never done this before… She reached up and pulled the fastenings from her hair, letting it tumble down her back in gorgeous waves. He was feet from her now. He watched the tense shiver that ran up her body as he unsnapped the clasp on his overshirt. Sliding that off he threw it over the back of his chair. Wil closed the gap between them, winding his arms around her body; he felt her tense again as he pulled her back against his chest… He breathed her in, placing his forehead gently to the back of hers. “Shhh…” his voice was soothing as he hushed her. He could feel her heart pounding in her chest. “…I promise… It will be alright… I’m going to take you slow… Ok?” He brushed her hair over her shoulder, kissing her exposed neck gently… “Nice and slow…” She shivered again, but he could tell this was a different kind of shiver. “Y/N…” He said her name softly “…Do you trust me…?” “…Yes…” Her voice waivered with emotions she was feeling for the first time. “Good girl…” He turned her towards him; but kept his eyes on her face, she was looking away from him; “No… No… Don’t… Don’t be embarrassed.” Her eyes met his under his authoritative tone “…You have nothing to be embarrassed about…” His eyes told her to trust him again as he traced her body again; My God…To lie with her for the rest of his life? William at least hoped he was keeping the smirk off his face. This was uncharted territory for any man… He wanted to keep it that way. He looked back to her eyes; her chest was rising and falling fast with the deep breaths she was taking; “Y/N…” He tilted her head so she looked back to him; “You are a Goddess amongst men who would have NO idea what to do with you…” He moved her hands to the opening of his undershirt; “…I am a mere mortal too… But I promise you… I will take care of you like no other man.” She seemed to understand, even if she didn’t seem to quite register it, she undid the few fastenings, and he pulled it over his own head, gathering her to him again, now his skin was against hers it made her burn on contact. He could feel her heart beating in anticipation through his skin and he ran his hands over her; careful where he made contact he leant in and she accepted his kiss. Tentatively, but with encouragement from him she ran her fingers up his arms, his chest; he wasn’t muscular like a warrior, (she’d seen her fair share of shirtless men) but he was lean; he’d been through militaristic style training at the very least. Likely too old to see a battlefield now, he might have seen a few in his time – even if they weren’t out in open warfare. He could hold her tight; and she felt safe. He could protect her, and he made her feel like he would keep all his promises. He began to move her gently towards the bed; one of his hands between them undoing his trousers. She whimpered as he left her lips; “Shhh… Shhh… I promise you, my darling, it will all be okay…” Wil kicked his boots off before lifting her up onto the bed, allowing her to get comfortable before he joined her, pulling her body back into his he kept on kissing her, he ran his hands up and down her body with varying pressure, attempting to test her. This was more than not knowing what she liked; she didn’t even know what she liked yet. He was already getting a good idea from what she was trying to hold back; from him or from herself he wasn’t sure. “Don’t.” He was commanding again “Don’t hold anything back. This is natural, Y/N. I want to make you feel better than you’d think possible to feel. I can only do that if you let me hear you… Darling, it’s okay to let yourself go. There is noone but us here…” The Sheriff got a kick out of how responsive she was to him telling her this – he worked his trousers off with minimal effort and pulled her closer; he wasn’t even sure of the last time he had had this with anyone. He had certainly been a lot younger. Wil showered her with kisses; every inch of her body he could reach he worshiped. She had closed her eyes to him; but the sighs coming of her lips; his name… his real name. He didn’t think he’d ever heard anyone ever say it that way; the way it caught with her accent, with the way her breath was hitching in pleasure. He stopped kissing her for a minute to just look at her, almost in awe… When she opened her eyes again they were hazy. She caught his, a clear point of focus, the blue a few shades darker to match his aura. She became aware of his hot breath against her skin, his fingertips applying gentle pressure as they danced across her ribcage; “Say that again…” She blinked, say what? She didn’t say anything near a coherent sentence; not in English anyway. His face changed, adoration in his eyes as he smiled; “Say my name… say it again… Just like that.” He pressed a kiss to her stomach. Moving his hands over her skin to her thighs; smoother than silk, pale and delicate as the falling snow from where she hailed to juxtapose her long dark hair. She moved her hands over his, to his shoulders and through his hair. Her breath caught again as he continued to kiss lower on her body. She could feel the blush that crept over her face, down her neck and didn’t stop there. Heat was beginning to pool in places she didn’t think possible and she had to close her eyes again, and bite back a groan as his fingers began to trace her inner thighs. She offered resistance to him pushing her legs apart and she twisted under him for just a minute. Wil moved and kissed her face lightly; “I am not going to hurt you… Not intentionally.” He knew that it could likely hurt her, but that would never be his aim. “I promise you, I know what I’m doing…” then he laughed lightly, “Well... I guess you didn’t need me to tell you that…” She nodded, kissing him back – she let it linger just long enough as his hands moved back to her thighs she parted her legs for him. “…You are gorgeous… Y/N… I have never beheld something as beautiful as you…” He whispered it against her skin as he kissed her again and moved back down her body. “I will worship you, as you deserve.” She let out a gasp, and something akin to an electric jolt as if she had been struck by lightning ran through her body causing it to arch. She placed her hand over her mouth in embarrassment but she couldn’t stop herself from groaning again. He chuckled slightly; “That’s my girl… That’s my good girl…” He almost purred it and that wasn’t helping. She sighed as he moved his fingers again to her sweet-spot (not that she would know a hell of a lot about that), but it made her cry out in an entirely different way and she could feel static building like nothing she had ever known. She was responding so well to everything he was doing it made him almost proud of her. He wondered how much of this she had explored for herself. She was as much of a princess as he was. She’d already let him know if she wasn’t fighting with her brothers, she was hanging out with them. Females didn’t often factor into her life aside from her sisters and her mother (and the occasional other shield maiden she’d mention). But he couldn’t imagine a girl like her wasn’t at least curious. Although now wasn’t the time to worry about that. She was sweet, and hot and she was going to feel so good that he almost lost his mind just thinking about it. But she was shy; and he knew she was desperate to hold herself back because she was self-conscious. Not in spite of him… He continued his movements, taking her hand in his free one he laced their fingers and began kissing trails back up her body. Her breaths became laboured and short; her groans pitched in and out and he knew she was too close to the edge for her own liking; given to how hard she was squeezing his hand, and the way her other had tangled in the sheets; her knuckles almost white. He slid his fingers out of her to a whine. It was desperate and wanton, and he had her right where he wanted her as he tasted her. He groaned to himself then, God… She’s just perfect… and she’s all YOURS… Wil kissed her again, rougher; taking her other hand, he pinned them above her head and didn’t let her lips go. He ground his hips into her; making her body arch into his and he swallowed her groans. She sounded so damn desperate for him. She even whined when he stopped kissing her. She wanted all of him, all over her. As much contact as was humanly possible. And all he seemed to be doing was pulling away from her. He forced her hips wider with his legs; and pressed his forehead to hers; “Tell me you trust me.” “I trust you.” She said it without hesitation “Tell me you want this.” “I want you.” He pushed into her gently; hating the way she cried out in pain… grateful he knew it wouldn’t last. He waited on her; he’d wait as long as it would take. Until her eyes were not squeezed shut quite so tight. She opened them and said something in Norse. He tilted his head; questioning. He knew he’d have to learn her language if he ever wanted to know her completely. And he did. She smiled, winding her legs around his to pull him further into her body; slipping her hands out of his she caressed his face, running her fingers back up into his hair and then down his chest; where they rested over his heart – not racing like hers, but calm, steady. A safe place. She repeated it, in English “We are one.”

When she woke she was surprised to find he was still there. The shutters for the windows were still wide open, and they threw the morning sunlight all over the room. Upon closer inspection the bedsheets where white and blue, not grey… but close enough… She rolled herself onto her back for a moment, and let out a breath; no doubt she ached in places she’d never ached before. But she knew it was a good kind of ache… It’d get better; it must get better, that was the only explanation for her large number of siblings… It wasn’t that the night was unpleasant, far from it. It just wasn’t exactly what she had expected. She placed her arms against her forehead; thinking too fantastically would never allow her to live out a fantasy with him if she didn’t let herself go. She was still too scared to… Wil wound his arms around her and pulled her into him, opening his eyes; “You stayed?” “…I would have asked you the same thing… Sir…” “No no no, do not call me Sir here… Not here…” he mumbled, stroking her hair from her face; “Not unless I specifically instruct you to.” What!? She decided right now she’d rather not know; or was she simply too curious…? “Oh… I’m sorry.” He chuckled, “Don’t be sorry either…” He kissed her face, down her neck, into her shoulder. And everything she felt last night threatened to come flooding back, she gasped against the travel of his kisses, his arms were so strong she also couldn’t wriggle out of his grip. Was he going to have last night on repeat?! She could feel the Sheriff smirk against her skin as she struggled; how her grazed his tongue and his teeth over her skin and made her sigh, her sighs turned to groans and she stopped resisting him wrapping her arms around his neck as he continued to kiss her. But his hands never threatened to wander anywhere else. “Alas…” he whispered into her neck “I wish I could stay here all day… Duty calls… It will be Sunday service soon…” Church. Of course. Trust the religion of this country to pull him away from her “…Although…” he thought on it; propping himself up on his elbow, “I would like you to accompany me…” Her hazel eyes held his gaze for a moment; curiously “Me? To a service? To your church?” “…You said you didn’t understand my religion… I concur, I believe you will understand it more than most. And be much more of a believer than half of those already there… So… Will you?” “…I…” she looked away from him for a minute “…If you wish it…” “I wish it only if you wish to come…” “…I would like to.” “…Hmmm…Then it will be an honour to have you there…” He kissed her again; chaste but full of promises on her lips. *** The Sheriff started towards the carriage, almost ecstatic that she would be accompanying him to Church today. William needed that more than she would ever know… And he could show her off to the Church too. HA! You were all wrong all along! But he noticed that she stopped shy of the steps down, he turned, a clearly worried look on his face. He was asking her not to change her mind now – anything but that. After what they had just shared, anything but leaving him here with this feeling. As if I haven’t done to her so many times… She half turned towards the stables “Can we ride?” “Ride?” His eyebrow quirk was inquisitive as he slowly ascended back to her “Yes… Ride. You and I. Side by side, it shouldn’t be too long a trip.” “…You want to ride to the church? Through the streets?” There was a knowing smile on her face, he was worried about what would happen to him. “Am I not charged with protecting you, Sheriff?” “And yet I am worried for your safety.” Her shrug was gentle; “Marcus and I have detailed these streets ourselves. I should be ready to take over from Lucian soon enough.” He took a step back and his mouth pressed into a thin line; he wasn’t sure how he felt about her putting herself in danger like that without his knowledge; “Why didn’t you tell me this?!” “I just did.” Those hazel eyes almost pricked annoyance at his question and he held his tongue from chiding her. He wasn’t about to ruin this. “Besides…” She turned fully, taking his hand gently in hers “Vesper is a gorgeous horse.” His laugh was nearly silent; “He is.” “Then ride him.” She liked that smile, the simplicity of it. Like the Sheriff was reliving every previous riding memory in his head. Like it was just them living in the moment. “Yes…” He bowed his head with the same gentleness of his voice “My Lady, let us ride.”

--- January written smut holding to writing standard nicely! @dennismitchell @happyskywhale @wltz-bby #MendoTagSquad.

#Ben Mendelsohn #Robin Hood 2018 #sheriff of nottingham #Sheriff x Reader #Sheriff of Nottingham x Reader #Maren blessed me with Lyrics #Or else /Take it from me/ also works for him chasing her down corridors...#Maybe next time ;)#79!#Loraina #I gave it another 2000 words of nonsense to literally not make it /the smut chapter/#and yet I LOVE what I gave it!#I realised I mentioned something in part six that I've made a direct link with here #and that makes me SO happy #BW3 #now I've done it you can't yell at me #But now should be the time I mention that over this week I've posted your top 3 Mendo BAEs

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akatokuro · 6 years ago

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The Inevitable StS Rewatch, Episode 30

Here lies Seiya’s brain, may it rest in yandere pieces.

- Hooray, the episode that kickstarted the process of Seiya's brain snapping firmly in half!

- Seriously, I might ramble about Gold Saints and such a lot (EXCUSE ME, DO YOU HAVE A MOMENT TO TALK ABOUT OUR LORD AND TRAINWRECK AQUARIUS CAMUS?), but nothing gets me screaming like an idiot like some quality SeiSao content. I LOOOOVE THEEEEEEMMMMMM

- The emphasis on Seiya's arm breaking, and him desperately reaching for Saori with the other, is very visually effective. The visual framing of internal "shattering" feels very appropriate for what this episode ends up doing...

- Seiya's rationalizations when he first jumps after Saori are really, really interesting and honestly sets the framework for the Seiya we see in the rest of the franchise in regards to her. He keeps repeating to himself, "Protecting Athena is a Saint's duty!" This is sort of weird and forced for him in a number of ways - Seiya has never shown any particular investment in either "Athena" or the idea of a "Saint's duty" up until this point, but then suddenly he's sort of frantically, desperately repeating it to himself here.

- It's reading into it heavily, but it makes sense Seiya is sort of trying to justify himself here, because Seiya in particular is in a weird, iffy spot as far as how he defines himself and his motivations for doing this. He originally came back with the intentions of dumping all of this shit from the onset and just wanted to find his sister. Then he got swept up in the drama with Ikki and the Gold Cloth. And now... well, Marin told him to protect Athena, who it turns out is Saori, but what does that actually mean to him...?

- Well, Athena is the goddess of war, who watches over humanity. But when he finally catches Saori and pulls her against him, she's obviously very vulnerable - very achingly human. To the point that when Saori starts to wake up, she cracks a joke about it - "I'm very heavy, aren't I, Seiya?"

- In the face of this kind of Saori, forcing the "protecting Athena is a Saint's duty!" tagline falls apart even further than its already shaky premise, for Seiya.

- And it's this contradiction that really gets to Seiya, and I think this is what started the process of it causing his brain to melt - he just cannot think of Saori as a "goddess" and all that entails when she's in front of him like this. You can see how he quickly switches back to the old "ojou-san" he always used when as far as he knew, she was just another human - and also "she is a very important person to me." "She is a very important person to me" is, in terms of emotional motivations, basically the polar opposite of the previous "it is a Saint's duty to protect Athena."

- Normally, narratives around guys seeing "the fragile woman deep inside" a female authority figure like Saori piss me the fuck off like almost nothing else - it's like an instant red flashing NOPE button - but SeiSao doesn't really hit that for me. For one, because Seiya doesn't actually frame it as a fragility or a unique femininity, per se, on the part of Saori that being a goddess makes her "hide" - and secondly, because he NEVER uses this as a point of authority over her or to condescend her. At all. It really feels like he has a legitimate compassion for her, and it makes him want to support her in her path. He would never challenge or lecture Saori that she should dump the responsibility of being Athena and find happiness as "a normal girl." (Here's looking at you, Fate/Stay Night!) But he wants to do what he can to ease that burden, and dedicate himself to her utterly. He admires her, because she is both human and goddess, and how Saori obviously often struggles between that boundary, but endures. Seiya, basically, understands that Saori is actually the hero of this story, not him, and acts accordingly. It owns.

- This desire to support the strong, incredible human woman in front of him, who is shouldering the mantle of a goddess, clicks with something inside of him - namely, it gives him a deeper sense of purpose that is able to justify all the horrific hell he has gone through during his Saint training. He is obviously bitter about what has been done to him in the early stages of the series and is happy for the chance to dump it all when he first returns from Greece. But devotion to Saori personally, as "Saori-san", not Athena, becomes all-consuming, all-defining for him - in a way it does not for the others - to the point that Seiya has extreme existential meltdowns at the suggestion that Saori might not need him anymore during the Hades OAVs and the movies. If Saori doesn't need him, everything he's done and endured has been worthless. He starts conflating everything that justifies his life and all of his suffering with her.

- To the point that, in Tenkai-hen, nothing else matters. He doesn’t matter. The world doesn’t matter. If Saori-san wants to kill him, it doesn’t matter. If Saori-san wants to destroy the world, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is her. He’ll die smiling, no matter what the context, if he’s dying by her will.

- That’s the fascinating thing about Seiya's deep, mad love for Saori in a nutshell: it is genuine love and genuine admiration, but it's also something of a fucked up coping mechanism. It's both! Saori knows on some level that it's both! And it kills her! Because she loves him too! But she knows she basically made him crazy and she wishes he could be happy and de-crazied but he rejects all of her attempts to fix it because he's crazy in love with her and wants to stay at her side! Which makes her both so happy and so sad at the same time because she both wants him at her side but also wants him to be free of her! Then there is some lewd hand-holding if they are lucky! etc etc. Goddammit they're so good.

- So yes, Seiya chanting to himself "Saints gotta protect Athena" comes across as frantic and desperate. But when he's holding Saori in his arms and looking at her face and listening to her voice, a strange serenity settles over him in its place. Seiya isn't the kind of person who can throw his entire being into the cause of "Athena." But it turns out that this person, this Kido Saori he's getting to know, and seeing more and more sides of - that's a different story.

- ISN'T IT SAD, SHAINA?

- Actually I really hate Shaina's crush on Seiya as a part of her character but we'll get to that later I guess... grumble grumble grumble...

- hnnnng the way the world obviously just melts away for both of them when they're staring at each other... the fragility of those moments makes them really effective. It really does feel like they're quickly stolen from all the hectic violence of their duties otherwise. There's no way the world and their circumstances would allow them to hold those moments for more than a minute at a time, if that.

- And any chance Seiya's brain had of surviving this whole deal is gooooone. This really encapsulates that paradox between human/goddess for the Saori in Seiya's heart - obviously, a normal human girl wouldn't be in the position to calmly, smilingly agree to die with him. But that's not something a goddess who rules over humans would do, either. The only explanation is that it's just... "Saori-san." Saori-san, who is willing to die with him.

- And the sheer power of someone who nods and smiles and believes in you when you ask something like that of them, well. RIP Seiya!

- Speaking of poor Shaina, the way Seiya actually stops her in her tracks with that utterly dismissive "fuck off, Shaina, busy staring at Saori-san" and promptly goes back to doing just that is... amazing.

- I love the way Seiya keeps enforcing their mutuality as they take their cliff-diving bet, too - verbally, softly telling Saori to hold onto him, looking at her the entire time...

- A consistent thing about Saori, even in the filler, is her taking it really hard when someone is sacrificed or hurt "for her" - like, before, things were a step removed because they were fighting "to protect the Gold Cloth" with the understanding amongst the whole group that it would be disastrous if EVIL FORCES got their hands on it. But here, Seiya almost died directly protecting her, and it obviously affects her deeply. (We even get a cheesy insert song about it!) She’s starting to get a sense of what Sainthood and using Saints actually means. As Athena, it's something she'll unfortunately have to get used to - and she knows this.

- THAT ATTEMPTED KISS IS TRAGICALLY THE CLOSEST THEY WILL EVER GET TO KISSING IN AT LEAST THREE OR FOUR DECADES, IF THAT. ALAS.

- SAORI! IS! THE FUCKING! BEST!

- I LOVE that her quiet devastation over others being hurt for her sake doesn't make her really weepy or waver - it hardens her. It steels her quiet, unshakable resolve to do what she has to do.

- Other shounen or shounen-likes often try to pull that "non-fighter heroine acts 'cool' and says they'll protect the hero instead, even though he usually protects her! See what we did there!?" (kingdom heeeearttttsssss) but the difference is that, uh, Saori is actually cool - and there's a decent emphasis on her perspective and feelings about it, and she actually gets to solve problems and meaningfully intimidate an opponent.

- Saori just calmly, silently staring down Shaina as she threatens her... ahhhh she's so cool I can't deal with it...

- YEAH. SORRY GUYS, THIS IS NOW A KIDO SAORI BLOG.

- and then saori drove a dude to suicide with her powers using his own crows. gj goddess of war

- The sudden snap from the dignified, intimidating "Goddess" Saori to the more human, frantic Saori when Hyouga and Shun show up is interesting - it almost does feel like she's snapping out of a trance or pseudo-fugue state. But it doesn't remotely feel like a split personality deal or anything either, because even in "goddess" mode Saori was focused on protecting Seiya, a human who is absolutely precious and special to her. The motivations and feelings are the same.

- Uh, speaking of Hyouga and Shun, though... where the fuck have you guys been all night until now? You and Seiya were right behind each other when you set out after Saori... did you take the chance to have a secret, prolonged cuddling session together or something under the mountains? I mean, more power to you guys...?

- hey, more silver fodder! what a way to close the episode.

#rewatching sts #aquarius camus did nothing wrong #this is now a kido saori blog

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d-dumais-blog · 7 years ago

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Keijo!!!!!!!! Review: I Like Big Butts & I Can Not Lie

Keijo is awesome! It’s insanely stupid and yet, somehow it succeeds at nearly everything it attempts. Keijo’s success is quite honestly an anomaly. A quick glance at premise, studio, and staff would suggest this show should have been forgotten before it even finished airing, and yet somehow it stuck around and resonated with fans, particularly in the West, in a way that no one involved saw coming. Its success in the West isn’t only a surprise to me, it appears to be a surprise to license holder Funimation that currently has NO merchandise available for purchase. No posters, no key chains, no announced bluray release. So let’s talk about why it works and why I love it so damn much.

Let’s start with the basics; this show is not for everyone. Keijo is a show about girls fighting each other in bathing suits using only their boobs and butts atop a variety of floats in an Olympic sized pool. Yes it is as dumb as it sounds. Yes there is an obscene amount of fan service focusing primarily on the girls’ butts. I completely understand why some people might be turned off by its objectification of the women portrayed. You might consider the show sexist, and you might consider me sexist for my enjoyment. A quick note on that, I’m a fan of all fan service both male and female. I’m a straight male with a particular affinity for the female rear end, check the title of this review, but you bet I appreciate some well drawn men in various states of undress. Anime has the opportunity to unrealistically portray human sexuality and I think artists are free to draw all manner of people however they’d like. I hope this helps you to understand why I won’t be talking about the sexism debate that surrounded this show.

Keijo’s fan service is excellent, and a show so focused on fan service would never succeed unless it was good, really good. The show focuses on a few girls, but has a great ensemble cast full of all sorts of girls of varying shapes, sizes, age, and color. Two points of clarification, there are very few different colored women, none of which are black, and that’s a bummer, and two while they vary in age all girls in the series are over eighteen years of age which we’ll discuss further down this post. Back to the subject at hand, how to properly handle “tasteless fan service.” Keijo’s fan service is omnipresent, leaking into every scene. This means it’s not a major shock when a butt fully envelopes the screen, it’s expected and not even that distracting. This differs from a majority of shows that feel the need to randomly insert their characters in compromising positions so that the viewer gets a better look at their body. It’s low hanging fruit but let’s compare this to Sword Art Online, it makes an easy comparison because pretty much everyone has seen it and most know its flaws. SAO II episode one while introducing new female protagonist Xion pans up her body while she lays down in a sniper position. The camera literally stops and does a quick zoom on her ass before finishing the shot. It’s disgusting, it’s distracting, and it feels completely out of place in a show that intends to be about technology and coping with grief.

The other most important thing about the fan service, aside from the age, is the fact that all of the girls are complicit in the fan service. They might be shy, and a bit embarrassed, but they are never forced into a compromising situation against their will. There seems to be this prevailing idea in anime that anime characters are cuter if they are pure, but we also need to see them without clothes on because of course we do. This results in a number of horrible tropes that need to stop, the most prevalent, light novel guy walks in on light novel girl changing. It’s almost always the establishing shot for their relationship over the series and I just hate it. The other trope is somehow even worse, girls in fan service shows need to stop being raped! People generally consider Asuna’s rape scene in the second arc of Sword Art to be the beginning of the decline which is absurd considering Silica was sexually assaulted by a plant in the first twelve episodes and no one seemed to care. It’s so gross and so often over looked. There’s nothing wrong with a girl being okay showing her body, and if an anime character is going to be undressed, I hope that character is willfully undressed. This goes a long way to help make your characters actual characters and not simply objects. I think the girls are surely still being objectified, but there’s a difference between looking at a Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition and looking at leaked celebrity nude photos. The context matters and Keijo gets the context right. Our secondary protagonist Miyata even admits that she started Keijo because she wanted a cute swimsuit made custom for her and I think that’s something all of the viewers would also like!

This show did far better in the west than in Japan, and that’s largely thanks to the way it was adapted. Xebec isn’t exactly known for its great adaptations; in fact I’d argue they generally suck. Their best known for To Love Ru and Shaman King; two shows that don’t do a lot to improve upon their source material. Most recently they were responsible for the horribly bad Clockwork Planet. Apparently that’s actually a pretty good light novel, which should be no surprise considering it’s written by Kamiya Yuu, the celebrated author of No Game No Life. I can’t speak to the actual quality of the Clockwork Planet books because the first episode of the show turned me off of anything that has to do with it. Point being adaptation is not a strength of Xebec, hell Xebec doesn’t honestly have a ton of strengths aside from their willingness to get smuttier than other studios if that’s your thing.

This is entirely different in Keijo, the adaptation is immaculate, and makes it far more appealing to a western audience. For starters, the anime skips the entire first arc where our two female leads are still in high school and under the age of 18. The girls first appear in their bathing suits in the anime after entering the Keijo training school. In the manga there are multiple battles that take place before this while the girls are learning Keijo for the first time at the stadium event shown at the start of the first episode. This arc is also gross for western fans for a number of reasons on top of age. For some reason at this point in the manga guys are allowed to compete in these non official Keijo matches. Guys of course only compete for the opportunity to rub up against girls in swimwear. Girls who, I’ll reiterate again because it’s important, at this point are underage. There’s also a ton of guys in this manga, which is weird considering there’s really only one in the anime and he’s less of a creep more of a sports fan. The men in the Keijo manga come to watch and gamble on Keijo and are depicted as perverse onlookers. Nozomi’s teacher is one such male who has a gambling addiction and comments on his underage student’s physique more than once. The anime made the right decision removing him from the series. This first arc also has an extremely uncomfortable and short lived love interest in the form of Nozomi’s brother. They might actually be cousins, the translation I read wasn’t exactly clear on that, but still something western audiences always frown upon. His feelings are never reciprocated by our star Nozomi, but the whole situation is uncomfortable, especially since he’s eager to jump in and battle her in her first mock Keijo match. There’s also more preliminary try outs the anime totally skips and that’s to the show’s benefit because again the girls are underage, and it cuts out a plethora of characters that don’t matter at all. The adaptation also does a great job with its references, choosing series that are particularly popular in western fandom. Attack on Titan and Fate/Stay Night are popular around the world, but really struck a chord in the states and Keijo very obviously references these shows multiple times to great effect. Other references to Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, One Piece, and Dragon Ball are all also greatly appreciated and largely absent from the manga.

Keijo performed very well in weekly viewership numbers, both legally and illegally, but was quickly written off by most. Everyone who watched it seemed to enjoy it, but wrote it off as “just another fan service show” and that’s unfair. It stands out among its peers, and should be celebrated as such. It was ranked the fifth most popular show according to Myanimelist, beating out shows with more popular appeal in pedigree like Occultic;Nine, Izetta the Last Witch, and season 2 of Ajin. It also beat out several truly spectacular shows in Sound Euphonium season 2, Flip Flappers, and the fifth season of Natsume’s Book of Friends. This wouldn’t have happened if it was “just another fan service show.” If you’re still in need of proof that season had just another an service show, it was Brave Witches, a fairly tasteless follow up to a reasonably successful show about young flying military girls who don’t wear pants for some unknown reason. People talk about Keijo as if it’s like Brave Witches, and no one talks about Brave Witches because no one cares. It might be easy to right it off if you don’t watch a lot of fan service shows, but let me tell you Keijo is special. I’ve lived in Trash Mountain for some time and am an expert in awful anime fan service, please don’t compare Keijo to that garbage; it’s far too good for that. Keijo is excellent! End of statement, no caveats no excuses, it’s really great. The show is easily the best thing director Takahashi Hideya has ever helmed. It’s arguably the best series Xebec has ever produced solo, inarguably the best this decade. I love Keijo, and I hope someday fans look back on it with the respect it earned.

8.5/10

#keijo #keijo!!!!!!!!#anime #fan service

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kinkykinard · 8 years ago

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We’re in Love, Aren’t We?

Fandom: Star Trek AOS. Pairing: Reader X Leonard McCoy. Prompt: For @trekken81’s Ed Sheeran Divide song challenge – Hearts Don’t Break Around Here. Word Count: 1838 Warnings: very minor injury. Rating: All ages. Genre: Fluff. Summary: Leonard and reader go on a hike and figure out their feelings for one another. Author’s Note: Beta’d by the lovely @starshiphufflebadger. This was originally conceived of as a McKirk fic, but as the challenge was for a reader insert, that’s what it became. I may still write this as McKirk one day, with a different premise. Enjoy!

We’re in Love, Aren’t We?

Every night I'll kiss you you'll say in my ear Oh we're in love aren't we? Hands in your hair, fingers and thumbs baby I feel safe when you're holding me near Love the way that you conquer your fear You know hearts don't break around here You groan at the ache in your thighs and buttocks as you plant one foot in front of the other on what Leonard promises is the last stretch of the hike on the way to the picnic site. The hiking boots he had insisted you wear for the trip are rubbing you in exactly the wrong way and you can’t wait to just lie down somewhere. You don’t even care whether it’s on the blanket you’ve brought along or on the bare earth beneath your feet, just as long as you’re horizontal, you’ll be happy. “Almost there, sugar,” Leonard assures you, placing a hand on your shoulder as he falls into step with you from where he’d been bringing up the rear just in case you lost your balance on the sheer slope. The way your muscles are screaming at you from the exertion makes you wonder why you had ever agreed to go hiking during your shore leave in the first place. You’ve never been one for nature, and the whole idea lacked romance in your opinion, but Leonard had seemed so excited to bring you to one of his favorite places in the world that you just hadn’t been able to resist. Instead, you’re now filing your current predicament away for use in the future, for any time he suggests anything crazy again and you find yourself being won over by those earnest eyes.

You spy the land flattening out another ten feet ahead of you and you’re eternally grateful as the burn in your lungs becomes almost overwhelming. You force yourself up the last few feet of your hike, barely even noticing the hand that has wrapped itself around one of yours as you crest the hill and stop moving, sucking in a colossal lungful of air.

“Here we are,” Leonard says brightly, his voice a little breathless.

He sweeps an arm out in front of him, gesturing to the panorama before you. A sparkling, blue-green lake sits in the middle of a large meadow full of grasses and wildflowers, all gently blowing and dancing in the breeze. In the lake’s waters, the mountain peak beyond its shores is reflected, distorted and crowned by a few fine, wispy clouds hanging overhead. The air smells clean and cold, like winter is coming, but the sun that beats down on your skin is warm, flushing your cheeks and causing perspiration to bead on your forehead. It’s far more romantic than anything you thought you’d see on the trip and you look over at Leonard in wonderment.

“This is amazing,” you murmur, your words nearly lost among your still-labored breaths. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Leonard chuckles softly and puts a hand on your backpack, pushing you forward toward a worn patch of dirt near the lakeshore - evidence of past occupation by other hikers.

“You’ll like it even better once we get all set up,” he says warmly, moving to kneel in the grass, slipping his pack off of his shoulders.

He begins to unpack the blanket and, once you’ve recovered some of your faculties, you join him to lend a hand. Between the two of you, it doesn’t take long to lay out the lunch you’ve packed, uncork the bottle of wine, and lay out a couple of cushions to make the picnic blanket a little more homey.

Once everything is in place, you finally get the chance to relax. Sitting on the edge of the blanket, you untie your hiking boots and slip them off, wiggling your toes and groaning in mingled ecstasy and displeasure: ecstasy because your poor, blistered feet are finally getting a chance to breathe, and displeasure because you know putting your boots back on later, once your feet have had a chance to swell a bit in the wake of all the hiking, will be pure, unadulterated agony. Setting your boots aside, you shift over to sit closer to the middle of the blanket, stretching your legs out and tipping your head back so that the sun can hit you just right. As you breathe in the fresh, clean mountain air you can hear Leonard tinkering with the wine bottle beside you, uncorking it easily before pouring two stemless globes full, holding one out to you. “A toast,” he says brightly. “To making it all the way out here, and to us.” You smile briefly, accepting the proffered glass and clinking it against his before taking a long draught from the globe. The wine is sweeter than most reds you’ve had in past and you savor it for a moment, enjoying the buzz that almost immediately ripples through your nerve endings in the wake of the alcohol. “To us,” you echo, your voice soft and a little sad. If Leonard notices, he shows no sign as he reaches for your backpack, unpacking the lunch you’ve brought along. You muse as you watch him, your heart beating heavily in your suddenly-hollow chest. You feel so much for him, and it’s so intense it’s like the heat of a thousand suns prickling beneath your skin. Turning your head away from him to clear your thinking, doing your best to forget how badly you’ve had your heart broken in the past, you stare out across the water instead. Several minutes pass in silence before Leonard’s voice draws you out of your reverie, his hand landing on your thigh. “What’s on your mind, sugar?” He asks softly, having clued into the fact that something’s not quite right. You wiggle your toes and stare distractedly at your feet “I should have broken those boots in before we came out here,” you murmur. You can feel the sympathy in Leonard’s expression. “Blisters?” He asks. You nod. “Well it’s lucky for you that I thought of everything, then,” he says with a chuckle. “Here, put your feet in my lap.” You raise a querying eyebrow at him but do as he asks, keeping your gaze averted and sitting back, propped up on your palms. You hiss as he peels your socks off, exposing your raw skin to the breeze, and relax again as he gently turns each of your feet this way and that, examining the injuries from your boots. He works in silence once he’s satisfied that he’s made not of all of the raw spots, applying a numbing salve and covering each blister with a thin layer of moleskin to prevent reaggravation on the hike back. Once he’s done, he shifts your feet off of his lap, moving to your side instead, rubbing a gentle hand along your spine, soothing you. “Something tells me those blisters aren’t all that’s got your goat,” Leonard murmurs, leaning in close. Silence stretches between the two of you again as you consider your situation. Tears sting at your eyes as you’re torn between thoughts of forever with the man next to you and others of heartbreak and sorrow. You’ve been hurt so badly in the past, and so many times, that trust doesn’t come easily and you keep your heart closely guarded. Sure, you’ve shared one another’s beds and many a romantic dinner, but you’d avoided getting too close, too intimate, too involved. “We’re in love, aren’t we?” You blurt suddenly, unable to hold the words in any longer. To your relief, Leonard doesn’t laugh, and he doesn’t seem taken aback. “Well, I know how I feel about you,” Leonard says softly. “But I’d like to know whether you return my sentiments.” Turning to face him at long last, you search his deep, soulful, hazel eyes. There’s a sincerity there, a genuineness of feeling that softens your resolve a little bit and you sag under the weight of your guarding. Your shoulders slump a little and you feel Leonard’s arm encircle your shoulders, pulling you in closer to him. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and you sigh lightly, swallowing thickly around the lump that has suddenly formed in your throat at the thought that Leonard McCoy actually loves you. “Hell,” you breathe, gathering the courage you need for your next words. “Yeah, I do. I love you.” “I love you, too, Y/N,” Leonard assures you, pulling you into an embrace, splaying his palms on your back. “I can tell you’ve been hurt before, and if it takes me a decade to earn your trust then I’ll make every moment count. You’re safe with me, sweetheart.” You lean into his embrace, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and inhaling his scent, and for the first time since the beginning of your relationship you allow yourself to feel protected. Taking in a deep, slow breath, you eventually pull away - albeit reluctantly - and take another draught from your wineglass. “I’m holding you to that, Doctor,” you say, your tone and expression equally grave, but quickly lost in a smile. You shiver as you suddenly feel Leonard’s hand land on your back and slip up your neck before running through your hair. Goosebumps erupt on your shoulders and you gasp softly at the sensation. His fingers feel heavenly combing through your loose locks and you’re relieved as the tension leaves your body, your muscles slackening and your posture sagging a little bit. A birdcall echoes around you and you blink the sun out of your eyes as you look up overhead, watching a small group of songbirds dance, dart, and twirl through the air, fluttering off into the distance. A chill ripples through you as a breeze stirs up around you and a cloud drifts over the sun, casting you and Leonard in a sudden shade. You’re not chilled for long, though, as Leonard shifts so he’s sitting behind you, his legs stretched out on either side of yours, his chest pressed to your back. His broad palms sweep up and down your arms, warming you quickly, and you relax back into him. He rests his chin atop your head as you look out over the lake and his touch on your arms softens as the sun peeks back out once more, his fingertips grazing your skin. “I’m not sure I’m ready for forever,” you say suddenly, hurriedly, thoughts of anxiety and hesitation evidently still active in the back of your mind. “I’m not asking for it right now,” Leonard murmurs softly in response. “Let’s just take it one day at a time for now, see where this takes us.” Now that you’re on the same page, your mind goes quiet at last. You rest a palm gently on one of the thighs enveloping your legs and stroke in a rhythm not unlike the one Leonard is using on your arms. As you look out over the water again, you feel a hope unlike any that you’ve felt since the start of your last relationship. It’s a hope for a long, secure, loving future, and a safe space free from heartache. You know you’re in good hands with Leonard, and that your heart won’t break around here.

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aspiratinganxiety · 6 years ago

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'theres only one bed' with dick grayson please, thank you!

Oh, my sweet boo! This is one of my very favorite tropes ever of all time EVER. Thank you for requesting it.

Dunno’ if you’re gonna be upset, but this one is going to have some angst. Sharp angst unrelated to the reader/Dick relationship. It went in a lengthy hurt/comfort direction.

If this bothers you, as always, please let me know! Also, still Fem!Reader, as a male insert character was not requested.

Lord God… this became way more detailed than I had intended. Like, this girl is now one of my favorite reader inserts. We may be seeing more of the ballerina, y’all. She’s spiffy. I likes it.

Nightwing makes you uncomfortable in your own home. He affects you to such a degree that you cannot recall feeling so out of place ever before in your life.

Shuffling through elite European boarding schools for the duration of your childhood eventually lent a sort of sameness to all unfamiliar settings. Cycles of new languages, new housing, new peers and instructors. Different was all just different, and strange things grew to be routine more and more quickly as you left your adolescence for womanhood.

You had only just begun to enjoy the stability of earning your position as a resident ballerina with the world renowned Gotham Opera Company when a deranged serial killer (just how many of those does Gotham have, exactly?) targeting young women in the arts set his sights on you. Encrypted uploads of voyeuristic footage featuring you as the clear focus pinged some kind of flag one of the Robins put up on the dark web address the murderer used to document his slaughters. The lot of them approached you shortly afterward, as the police department’s hands were tragically tied. No harm, no foul, as far as the law was concerned.

Creepy videos, but no way to trace them. Case iced-over out of the gate. Not wasting the manpower. No go.

“Tough luck, chickie. People die in this city everyday. Invest in some pepper spray.”

That’s seriously what one detective said to you. Verbatim.

Chickie.

Fortunately, Batman and his family were dedicated enough to split the additional task of keeping low-key tabs on you over the next handful of months. With daily texting and frequent nighttime checkups, it was inevitable that all of you would become rather well acquainted.

Robin, in particular, was keen to visit on account of your new kitten, Bumble.

The seemingly stern boy warmed to you quickly, in his way. He started to bring more than educational toys and treats of higher quality for your pet. Classic Russian literature and Slavic historical texts in their original languages were gifted to you. It became a game. Robin would haughtily hand you an unfamiliar author or subject upon which you would be ruthlessly quizzed when he next returned to see to your safety. The taxing gesture was clearly one of friendship, though rather starched and academic. You tried not to let him down with your reading comprehension.

Red Robin was more talkative via text. He’d brief you on all case progress and any individuals or behaviors to be weary of in terms of ruses or stalking techniques. In person, he was most distant. He often simply knocked at your window. You’d wave, and he would nod. The end.

At first you found the one with guns to be notably less… polite. Barging into your apartment with little to no notice, smoking in your home without permission, and leaving heaps of greasy motorcycle boot prints in his wake. However, you recognized that the intimidation factor he offered by merely being present was likely to thank for destroying the upload rate of unwanted video and images on the murderer’s site. Also, to your pleasant surprise, Red Hood found a way to be oddly charming in spite of his coarser demeanor and unforgiving air. His humor was infectious, and he knew a shocking amount about ballet. The technique as well as the current and historical icons of your niche dance culture. Conversing with him was easy and entertaining. Well worth missing sleep and dragging through practice the following morning.

Nightwing, boastfully the oldest of the bunch, was your least favorite late night house guest. Ever appreciative of all their consideration, you never voiced your preference for the younger brothers. Honestly, it made you feel silly and ungrateful to bristle and go all shifty in his company. There was no real reason to be ill at ease. Never rude or brusque, he behaved as a perfect gentleman toward you (if a bit familiar).

Perhaps that was it? Unlike his brothers, he didn’t take any time at all to warm up before behaving as if the two of you had known one another for your entire lives. Nicknames, reassuring brushes and pats, wisecracks with punchlines that popped at your expense…

He texted more than anyone. More even than Red Robin. Never about the murderer, always about you and your day. Your interests. Your comfort and progress with the Opera. Hints on the test questions with which Robin was preparing to smite you.

Nightwing made himself at home in your space, regularly sweeping every inch of your apartment for any bugs or cameras. He brought you food and vitamins, ushering himself to your cabinets and refrigerator as though your kitchen was simply there as a secondary pantry for his snacking convenience. A collection of hand-me-down dark ribbon, four tubes of New Skin liquid bandage, and proper crushed rosin was offered to you in a battered shoe box.

“Been a while since I needed any of it,” he explained with a crooked, dazzling smile. “Ballet was helpful, but not exactly a personal calling. My feet still haven’t forgiven me.” He motioned warily to the copious amount of liquid bandage.

Your cat was obsessed with him too. Climbing up his leg and yowling for attention the moment he realized that the oldest masked brother was present. Nightwing seemed to relish scooping up the tiny critter and dolling up some cuddly pose to snap a picture for Robin. Made the kid crazy jealous. The cat didn’t mind at all. Bumble just loved him, and you felt like a bumbling idiot every time he was around.

Perhaps, if your mind had been with you and these reflections at the forefront, you would have put it together and protested being stashed in his apartment for protection.

The first person you call is Robin.

You’ve never phoned his contact before, and the first cycle of rings doesn’t get to finish before the boy is snapping over the line.

“He killed Bumble…” you say numbly, not waiting for a polite opportunity to speak. The tears that have rimmed your eyes as you take in the scene of your delicate, innocent baby-kitty mangled and displayed over a letter and an opulent bouquet begin trickling down your face. “He killed my Bumblebee, Robin.”

“Lock yourself in a closet or a cabinet. Do not leave the premises. He is likely counting on your desire to flee and waiting just outside of your home or near one of the building’s exits.”

He hangs up without a ‘be safe’ or any word of comfort for your loss. The lack of displayed interpersonal sentiment tips you over the edge, and you weep wildly for a few moments. You sob for the pain of your kitten and the destruction of your illusory safety. You have to viciously compartmentalize your ragged reactions in order to focus on Robin’s directions.

Tenderly gathering the broken form of your little companion into your arms, you cringe away from the tainted offerings and lock yourself in the closet as you were told. You know it’s less than half an hour, but it feels as though an eternity passes before the boy wonder comes crashing through your window. The door to your hiding place flies open, and Robin stares at the pitiful image you must make cradling your departed pet down on the floor, still in the majority of your sweaty training clothes from rehearsal.

You’re too busy being terrified and heartbroken to feel the absolute shock you’re sure you will apply to this memory later when, not breaking eye contact, Robin strips away his mask to share a pained expression. You know his face.

A Wayne.

The youngest one?

He kneels down in front of you, reaching forward and giving the tip of Bumble’s cold little ear the barest touch.

“We let you down.” His hands are gripping your upper arms now, pulling you to your feet. “But we’ll make him pay for this. For everything. I swear it.”

There is a unique weight to the words.

You are… moved.

Vindicated.

Some of the shocked stupor lifts, and you entrust the unmasked Robin to tend what remains of your kitten as you pack a few things. He does not allow you to be in a room without him, wordlessly surveying the suddenly dangerous environment of your apartment with a predatory sharpness that you envy.

You desire those spikes. That armor. The ability to be in control, even in the face of such an atrocity.

As he observes, Robin removes his cape and wraps it carefully around your Bumble. When you are ready to depart, he returns to you a snugly swaddled bundle that you hold tight to your chest as you hustle after the agile boy through the shadowed back alleyways and side streets. He stops at a dock, looking to you, green eyes reflecting the low light as though he, himself, is partially feline in nature.

You’d believe it.

Still silent, you strain to slip Bumble gently into the hungry current of the Gotham River. The water is dark, and so is Robin’s cape. You lose sight of him within moments.

A hand grips your wrist, firm and unyielding. A bruising affection.

“What’s your name?” you ask, breaking the burdensome quiet.

He does not hesitate: “Damian.”

“Thank you, Damian.”

The heavy lull sinks down over the two of you again. Damian does not let go of your wrist, but he does lighten his hold. After a few moments of respectful silence passes, he speaks.

“Presently, I am taking you somewhere safe. My brother Richard’s apartment isn’t far, and his security measures are respectable.”

“Which one is Richard?”

“You’ll know soon enough,” he mumbles, tugging you away from the water and a few blocks inland to scale a hearty steel fire escape.

He slides open a window and indicates that you should enter first. When he does not follow, you give him an inquisitive look.

“Don’t fret,” he says. “I’ll send Richard this way shortly. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable.” His nose wrinkles, less than two feet from you. “Maybe look into taking a shower.”

You have no response for that, and so you nod.

The large window slips closed, sealing you into the dark, unfamiliar apartment. You see that Damian fidgets with something on his smartphone, still just a pane of glass away. There is the click of an automated lock and a pleasant electronic melody.

Security system.

You watch the boy’s progress down and away for as long as you can before fumbling to the nearest light switch. The apartment is spacious for this area of the city. Ridiculously high ceilings with lots of sleek glass, exposed brick, open shelving, and industrial black metal touches.

Very modern. Very bachelor.

A set of stairs wing off between the kitchen and living room. They lead up to a bedroom loft area that overlooks the whole of the apartment below, separated by only a perfectly transparent glass dividing wall built to mimic the neat rectangular sections of the actual windows.

Not really your style, but not bad either. It’s cultivated and clean. Honestly more than you’d think to ask of a man living on his own.

You find the bathroom tucked behind the staircase. It’s sizable, lacking a bathtub in favor of a large shower with symmetrical tile work and more mock windows serving as glass doors. Stripping out of your rank clothing, you again attempt to analyze the cloudy, anesthetized distance keeping you from absolutely freaking out.

A psycho broke into your home and killed your cat.

A murdering lunatic with an obsession has locked onto you.

A rapist.

A serial killer.

An actual monster ravaged your life in a way that simply hadn’t seemed real while you were texting Nightwing about roasted eggplant or arguing with Damian over the literary merit of Tolstoy.

Not taking the threat seriously had cost you the baby Bumble.

The alarm chirps in a lower key, and you rush to rinse the final dregs of shampoo from your hair, dry, and throw on some sweatpants along with your comfiest sweater. You’re anxious to see which brother’s home you’ve invaded, curiosity and some lingering adrenaline shakes driving your choice to forgo conditioner.

He’s at the kitchen counter, pulling items out of a paper sack. His back is to you, but you would recognize the proportions and that distinctive head-full of thick, dark hair anywhere. Instead of your usual dread or agitation, you are relieved.

When you figure out that it’s him, it’s like your ears pop.

There is a sudden burst in your chest, water rushes from your eyes, and you can feel the whole of your deadened fear and sorrow swell and bubble out of your throat. One minute, you’re slinking back behind the staircase to snag a glimpse. In the next, you’re running toward the man you recognize to be Nightwing and wrapping yourself around him.

He’s turned to meet you, arms open. “I am so sorry, sweetheart,” he says, cheek against your sopping, tangled mop of hair. “We had no idea he was so close. His online traffic had completely died off. We thought he’d moved on, he’s done that before.”

You open your mouth to respond. Instead, air buckles into your lungs with a violent, ugly sound. He hugs you tighter. The firm, restrictive hold makes speaking twice the struggle. You don’t want him to loosen up though, so you power through in gasping, breathy bursts.

“H-he killed… he k-killed my cat.”

“I know,” he laments. “The evil son of a bitch.”

“He’s g-gonna’ kill me too.”

“He’s not. You’re safe here. He has no idea who I am or where I live, and I strongly suspect that the new mission focus for the lot of us is less finding the guy and more keeping Damian from killing the asshole.”

You make a pathetic, non-committal sound, rutting your face into his T-shirt.

He shushes you, dragging his wide hands up and down your sides. With all of the patience in the world, he continues to reassure you and keep you against him as you piece together your usual collected demeanor.

It’s shyness, you realize, suddenly terrified to look him in the eyes after such a hysterical display. He’s made you uncomfortable all of this time because his attention flusters you. It wasn’t apprehension; it was bashfulness.

It’s like he senses your epiphany, urging gently away until he’s leaning against the counter with your burning hot cheeks cupped in his palms. He tips your face up, and an abrupt sound somewhere between a singular soft chuckle and a scoff erupts from his nostrils.

Your eyes are squeezed shut.

“Hey,” he speaks softly. “Hey, look at me.”

You breathe through your stuffy nose, cracking one hesitant eye.

“Heeeey!” he whispers with subdued triumph. “There you are, shy girl.”

His eyes are beautiful and so, so blue. You can’t remember if you’ve ever seen anything so blue. Smiling down at you with such kindness and sweet, tempered affection, he looks like a literal angel.

If he wasn’t holding your face up, you would have hidden again. You go sort of faint, and you realize that you’ve been awake what has to be nearing 24 hours, much of it engaged in either extreme physical activity or severe emotional distress.

“I need to go to sleep,” you say unthinkingly, words muddled because of his hands smooshing your cheeks together a bit.

“I’m Dick Grayson,” he takes the moment to offer you his civilian name. “And I am afraid I only have one bed.”

“That’s okay. I don’t want to be by myself.”

“Let me finish putting up the groceries, okay?” he asks. “Then we can go to bed.”

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femslashrevolution · 8 years ago

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It ain't that deep, bro. It's just important.

This post is part of Femslash Revolution’s I Am Femslash series, sharing voices of F/F creators from all walks of life. The views represented within are those of the author only.

So, this may catch some folk by surprise considering how ridiculously queer I am, but, fun fact: your humble author didn’t actually learn that queer people existed until she was in high school.

(This is relevant. I promise. Hang in there.)

I’m not kidding. I was sitting behind this girl in a creative writing class, my first week freshman year of high school. She was telling a story to another student, and in the course of it made a joke in which she pointed out how incredibly bisexual she was.

It was like I got struck by lightning.

I’d gone to a catholic school from kindergarten through eighth grade. And Holy Family was actually one of the more progressive, kind-hearted schools in the area. I know now that most of the teachers didn’t actually believe the official Church doctrine on the subject of The Gays. So instead of telling us that homosexuality was a sin, they just…never brought it up. If they never mentioned gay people, they wouldn’t have to toe the line and say we were going to hell!

Aaaaand the end result was that I literally was never informed that liking girls was like…a thing? You can do that? That’s an option?!

Mind you it still took me like another six months to figure out why I’d had such a powerful reaction to that realization. Because, you know, obviously I wasn’t gay or anything. You can feel free to insert a mental laugh track there, I’ll wait.

I bring this up because to this day, I remember that lightning-strike sensation. The birth of a whole new universe, fresher and wider and better than the old one, right behind my eyes. I swear to god the colors were brighter that day.

In the months and months between that moment and the moment when I was willing to admit even to myself that maybe, possibly, like girls just a little, I started reading femslash. I read a lot of highly questionable het fics too, obviously, because I was fourteen and look shut up we’ve all made mistakes.

I’d be lying if I said femslash was what helped me realize I was gay as all hell, because it wasn’t. I handled that just fine on my own, thanks. The fics themselves weren’t actually the catalyst, it was just that I realized I was seeking out f/f pairings and, hmm, you know, maybe there was a reason for that. Really, femslash didn’t start to mean much to me, or connect me to a community, until I started writing it. And…oh, man. That was the watershed. That really was where I came into my own.

I was seriously unprepared for the level of gratitude femslash authors can receive.

Thing was, I wasn’t even really…doing much, from my perspective. I was just…writing fic, like always. I’d watched the Star Wars prequels and fell in love with what was to me the obvious femslash pairing–seriously, watch Phantom Menace and tell me with a straight face that Padme’s handmaiden isn’t in love with her. And I’d gone looking for fic only to discover a massive pile of nothing. That’s thankfully changed a little since; I like to think I kicked off the Padme/Sabe renaissance. But for a decent chunk of time there, I was the only person writing that pairing on the entire Internet.

Let me tell you–that was a trip and an half.

And the response was…pretty average, as AO3 goes. It wasn’t like I became an instant celebrity or anything. But people got so freaking excited, to a degree I had never expected. I think I’m a decent writer, I’m pretty used to people liking my stuff–but people, when they read the Padme/Sabe fics, were freaking out. They overflowed with enthusiasm, they tripped over themselves talking about how invested they were in this pairing now. Overwhelmingly, responses fell into two categories: “I’ve shipped them for years, I thought I was the only one!” or “I’ve never even considered this, but now I can’t stop.”

That’s the moment. That, right there, is the thunderbolt.

It’s why I work so much with what are, on the surface, kind of done-to-death tropes. 5+1 fics. Sith AUs. Humorously snowballing miscommunications that result in Hijinks And Shenanigans™. Dark AUs. Single-point canon divergence “what-if” fix-it fics. Coffeeshop AUs. My flagship Padme/Sabe piece is, loosely, an Arthurian mythos AU. Hell–my current project, because apparently I hate myself, has turned out to be a series of ~20k oneshots for a different Star Wars femslash pairing based on the plots and settings of Disney movies, just for fun.

Now to my credit, I do pull twists on the tropes! I adapt them, I explore variations, sometimes I subvert them entirely because some tropes are pretty unhealthy relationship models; but the fact is, my playground is tropes and AU settings. The latter is because I, as a writer, really enjoy stripping both plotlines and characters down to their core. (What are the really essential elements of this story that I can use to transplant the plot into a Galaxy Far Far Away? What are the core personality traits and features that these Star Wars characters would keep, their turn of phrase–things that will make them instantly recognizable even if they’ve been relocated to 17th-century France?) But the tropes, that’s something that for me is an integral part of why I and a lot of other people read and write femslash.

I do it for that lightning-strike sensation. That moment where someone stumbles across a Beauty and the Beast AU, or a faerie tale, or a story about defying fate to escape an arranged marriage, or something else they’ve seen a million times–except this time the protagonists are queer women, and nobody questions it, and they connect to the basic premise in a whole new way.

Sure, the characters’ love may be forbidden–but it’s forbidden for the same reasons straight people get to have forbidden love. Because one of them is a commoner, because they’re Sith and their masters are rivals. Because the Jedi Code forbids it. Not because they’re queer. Never because they’re queer.

(Mind you I’ve also written some Meg/Christine stuff, wherein the problem is ABSOLUTELY that they’re queer. There’s a place for that. But you’ll notice, if you read my Phantom of the Opera fic, that Mme. Giry figured it out ages ago and, while she might worry, she never disapproves. We face enough examples in the real world of parents rejecting their queer kids. I don’t feel a need to include it in my fic.)

And for a lot of people, these are just fun fics about their favorite pairing. That’s great in and of itself; we’re all starving and scrabbling for crumbs, and my readers are honestly the sweetest and most appreciative people I could ask for. If I just make them happy, hey, my job’s done. But every so often, I get a review or a private message and I can see that thunderbolt realization. I can see their universe opening up.

We can be fairy tales too?

We can have soulmates, these archetypal stories I grew up loving can be about me? We can change each other for the better, we can be heroes, we can be murderous self-indulgent evil-is-sexy Sith, we can be the ones charging the dragon?

We can be genre fiction–stories about assassination attempts and royal duty, intergalactic politics and Greek mythology and dramatic rescues that have nothing to do with the sexuality of the protagonists? We can just…be there because we are?

We’re allowed to do that?

That’s an option?

About the Jo:

Blog | AO3 | RP/etc

22-year-old Psychology major; cis, very white, extremely queer, terrible Cherry Coke habit. In a continuing blood feud with the continent of North America, will bore you by talking about dogs and/or various other animals if you give me half a chance, and I reject the false Star Wars/Star Trek dichotomy. Star Trek is for hope, Star Wars is for stabbing Nazis in the face, and both are Good.

#mylordshesacactus #I Am Femslash #Femslash February 2017 #Femslash February #Type: Meta #submission

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hiruma-musouka · 8 years ago

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If you don't mind a random question. So you said once that you're picky about characterization regarding Madara and Tobirama (MadaTobi, specifically). What's your preferred characterization? What do you think about when you write them/when you're working out characterization in general, if anything? I really like the dynamic you have for them, and I'm curious if there's a process and what it involves, I suppose. Thank you for your time!

I welcome random questions! (I’m just really bad at answering them promptly) That being said, buckle in because you’ve hit on a topic I love and I’m feeling chatty so I basically wrote you an essay.

At this point in my life I’m picky about characterization in general to be honest. It’s not about Madara, Tobirama, or MadaTobi specifically, it’s everyone. I wasn’t always picky (as my reading history will attest) and even now I will sometimes read stuff with characterizations I’m not 100% fond of, but I’ve been reading fanfiction voraciously for well over a decade now. I like to pretend that I’ve developed some taste over that time period. And I tend to read in fads when I find something I like, so name a thing and, if I like it, I probably read several pages of AO3 fics on that pairing/trope/fandom etc.

Even if I sometimes go back and wonder how the fuck I sank a week into reading insert trope. Your tastes change as you age.

Basically what this means is, I have gotten to the point where I’ve really figured out which things are deal breakers for me instead of just reading on and on and wasting my time hoping I can make myself get used to it. I have time management issues and no time turner: I can’t afford to waste precious hours on stuff I’m halfheartedly enjoying.

And for me the ultimate deal breaker has to be the characters.

Plot is excellent, I LOVE good plots because they’re what helps makes a fic engaging and unique (bless astolat for example whose plots keep sucking me into fandoms I’ve never heard of)… but I have to care about the characters. They have to feel right to me.

Now, let me explain what I mean by “the characters have to be right” because I don’t want people to think I’m elitist purist who believes there is ONLY ONE WAY to do things. I wouldn’t love fanfiction if that was true. There are two things I mean by “right” in reference to characters.

ONE: (and this is essential) They have to be people. They do not have to be human. LOOK AT MY FICS! I keep writing non-human characters. I love well done fics about fae. When I say they have to be people, I mean that they have to be nuanced. They need to react like a genuine article of whatever the author is writing. People are complex! They can be straightforward, they can be assholes, they can be sweet, they can be ashamed, they can be kind-but-god-stop-BRINGING-IT-UP-YOU’RE EMBARRASSING-ME… people can be so many things under the sun and that’s what I want to read. I want people.

You know that thing they recommend in writing: “show, don’t tell”? This is sort of part of what I mean. You can’t just say a character is a coward or just explain things to me and have your characters lurch to the plot’s demands. If you’re writing a person, and not just a name on a word document, they’re going to feel different if you know what I mean. If you have ever hear of an author complain about their characters, they’re probably writing people. And this is because characters are stubborn little wretches sometimes! Because what they want to do is not always what the author wants them to do for the plot. One of the really damn hard things about writing is somehow juggling all those assholes into doing what you need them to do. Sometimes it involves reexamining why they’re doing it and just getting into their head a different way. Sometimes it involves switching POVs because their actions feel right but you have no idea why they hell they’re doing it (or at least you have no way to explain it to the readers yet). Sometimes - and this might make you cry - you have to scrap all your hard work and either redo the plot or admit that certain shit doesn’t work with certain characters without being ooc.

All of the above is stuff that comes with time and effort and a bit of talent. Everyone has their own specialties when writing, but regardless of whether you get into a characters head or just write their actions from an omniscient pov, if you’re writing people, I can feel it.

(There are some rare story structures that don’t focus on people, but I’m already up on one soapbox, so we’ll set that detour aside.)

TWO: If you are writing from a canon rather than an original character, they need to feel like that canon character to me. For anyone who’s read fanfiction and had that one moment where you’re like “that’s them! that’s so them!” - this is what I mean.

Now, this is where we get onto the topic of preferred characterizations.

(I’ll use Madara and Toibrama as an example here since that’ll drag me back to your original question.)

I don’t think there’s only one way to characterize people in fanfics, but I like to think of canon as the “core” of a character. Metaphorically, canon is the bullseye on a dartboard of characterization. THAT is what people shoot for when writing. If you get too far away from that bullseye, things feel ooc and you tend to lose your reader. The character feels like someone else with a name slapped on.

BUT (and here’s the awesome thing about fanfiction) everyone has a different interpretation of exactly what that bullseye is and what qualities make up the different layers of the rings around it. For some people one quality is vital, but another can be done in different degrees and still feel in character. This is why (for example) myself, @blackkatmagic, @redhothollyberries, and @elenathehun can all write fics with Madara and Tobirama and they will all feel uniquely, subtly different and yet still in character to all of us. What we feel is in character for those people - what we think of as the bullseye and in inner rings of our characterization - overlaps a lot with enough minor variation around the dartboard for us to all be unique.

This is also why my Madara tends to feel slightly different sometimes in different AUs. When I write, I keep in mind that different backgrounds make slightly different people so the characterization changes slightly. That part is pretty organic for me. I feel it more than decide it and then work out how to explain the difference as I’m writing to make it clearer and more consistent.

So when I say I’m picky, I mean that my idea of traits is defined for them. I have thought about them enough to know what my dartboard looks like so if I read a fic with an interpretation that varies strongly enough from my bullseye, it stops feeling like them to me. Characters that I’m not as familiar with (either as a reader or writer) get a much wider dartboard because I haven’t really made a definitive opinion on them yet so there’s more leeway in how people write them before it throws me off.

This isn’t to say that my way is the best way and that others are wrong, but it does mean that it’s my interpretation of canon and what I feel resonates best as “in character”.

Of course, sometimes it’s fun to read something with a premise that has no evidence in canon - like “what if this person liked X” - but as long as the rest of the characterization holds up, that’s basically how fanfics work and it’s interesting.

So you can see a lot of my preferred characterization in how I write people. Of course, the more I write a person, the better I feel I know them or the more I think about them so sometimes I’ll realize “wait, this feels better” and then that will change my idea of their bullseye for future stuff. That also happens when I read really persuasively good fics, btw.

Now we have your question about my process as these characters specifically. My process for a new character tends to be the same for everyone. If I have read a lot of fics, I tend to draw from those characterizations and what they had in common to get a feel for the person. I will also CONSTANTLY reference the wiki’s personality section because that breaks people down into rough descriptions that I find useful. It also lets me review quickly what they did in the manga and sometimes why which helps figure out how they tick. (I still haven’t had time to read anything but specific sections of the manga, goddamnit…)

Figuring out how characters tick is HARD but very important because knowing how someone ticks is vital to writing AUs. An AU that doesn’t have a lot of similarity to canon makes it easier to be ooc because you’re drastically changing their backgrounds. Conversely, it also means that you can’t forget that changed backgrounds should mean changed characters somehow.

(Case in point: canon Kakashi is massively traumatized. Unless you have another terrible background, coffee shop au Kakashi should be different.)

I also love to discuss characterization with Kat, Elena, Squid, or Holly because active discussion makes it easier to verbalize and consciously realize why one thing feels correct and why (the why is always important) other actions or dialogue feels wrong. Elena is fantastic for me, for example, because we approach characters from different methods so she sometimes verbalizes reasons when I’m stuck or points out things that haven’t occurred to me yet.

If I have the time (and more importantly the chapter numbers), one fantastic thing is to reread sections of the source material with important moments with that character.

And here’s where I developed Madara. A large part of why I started with this character is because blackkat’s writing sucked me in. When I started to write him though, I had to decide how I wanted to write him which meant figuring out what were the “core” elements of Madara’s character. Given that Madara’s canon characterization is… unconventionally written, I basically started by deciding that if I wanted a protagonist then I had to draw from pre-psychotic break Madara. I can look at later Madara too because it’s still helpful for different elements of his character, but such a drastic change means there’s a literal canon option for good versus crazy Madara when you’re writing his characterization.

(I am experimenting with his darker characterization but that’s not as helpful in most of the stories I want to write at the moment.)

So I take the material, I look at the characters and I try to get a feel for what the person is like, how they interact, what underlines the choices they make. Knowing what people value, what they like/dislike, and how they express themselves helps to write not only what they would choose but how they would speak or react.

Madara’s characterization for me ends up being roughly this then >> values family, somewhat open, competitive, teasing, resolute, dreamer, exasperation, reacts/snaps when frazzled, annoyed when people don’t get to the point aka straightforward, skilled (!!!), disciplined, bit blunt, protective, willing to fight and enjoys challenges, and not hateful.

Later events in the manga add in things like ruthless when necessary, does not deal well with being the last man left standing among close family, I definitely think he had depression at one point, respects skill/power, patient if it’s for a purpose, and good at manipulation (if not necessarily inclined to it as a first option since young Madara was terribly to the point and open with Hashirama).

Given how long this is, I’ll stop here, but if there are other points you’d like to ask about or have me expand upon, please feel free to drop another ask! I know I got diverted while on this soapbox, so let me know if you still want Tobirama or anything.

#Characterization #uchiha madara #naruto #about writing #anonymous #asks

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yes-this-is-sam · 7 years ago

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WIP MEME

List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or little detail as you’d like, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on. This can be writing, art, vids, gifsets - anything at all!

I was tagged by the extraordinary @sexy-salmon thank you hun!

Aight.... shoot, gotta collect all my notes.

1) Escaping Ostagar:

This one is my only current Dragon Age fic. It’s... been a labour of love. My baby Melisande is a bit of a self-insert, I was maybe trying to use her to get a hold on my own PTSD. Maybe I cared way too much about this damn story. I’ve been working on it since Dec 2016 and it was the very first of my own writing I ever tried to share with anyone. Twice now I’ve given up on it despite having the last 12 chapters planned out. I still want to finish it but... I gotta get to a point where it doesn’t hurt that it got little attention. Like I said, I invested way too much into it.

2) I Have To Try:

WOOO Currently my most progressed new story-child. Probably going to start posting it soon. Set in Andromeda, it follows none other than a bedraggled Avitus Rix in his new and initially unwelcome role as Pathfinder and the creation of his Pathfinding team. I didn’t like that we didn’t even hear news or anything playing about the other Pathfinder’s efforts to make their own colonies and help in whatever ways they could. A couple cameos where they take back seat to Ryder, which is unfair to ALL of the Pathfinders. Why put the other races and the entire Initiative on Ryder’s shoulders when the others have more experience and just as many resources? Kaetus gets dragged along for the ride, as well as an APEX team led by the fierce ex-Cabal Vitetoria Digeris.

3) Though This Be Madness:

Hehehe this one certainly lives up to its name more than I expected. The story focuses around the blog’s namesake Samantha Curtis along with her wayward AI OPI, her adopted Batarian family Ragar and Ecetia, and the Krogan she knows way too much about Ganar Jirr. This one I'm taking a step back on to rethink how I'm gonna set it up. Originally it started right before the Initiative left for Andromeda and followed Sam taking on both an incurable illness and the Kett she needs to stay alive AND trying to outrun every faction now after them both.... BUT THEN SAM FELL IN LOVE. She met Rexis Sarex, an adorable troublemaker created by @masseffectoc and now I can’t write them apart. I got permission to include her characters in the story too and IT WILL BE GLORIOUS SHENANIGANS. If I start at the same place I was going to, it’ll still work but miss a lot of character and relationship building. SO I’ll either back up and start from farther back and end up with something as long as goddamn GRRM’s books, or I’ll split it into 2 and make a prequel where Sam and Rex meet and all the characters come together and decide to go with them to Andromeda or not. At least..... the ones who survive. Mwahahaha.

4) Chronicles of Jirr:

Ok, I’ll be the first to admit it. Ganar Jirr was originally just a nameless NPC I randomly created to give Sam a funny story to tell and amuse Rexis. Now he is one of my most dynamic characters I’ve ever made, I think. Affectionately nicknamed Krogan James Bond, by myself, this will be a series of stories told alternate BY him or about him. The ones told by him will probably be ridiculously exaggerated or entirely made up, fair warning.

5) Blast Off:

This is gonna be a surprise for masseffectoc for her birthdaaaaaay so I'm not gonna say more than I told her. Which is that it’s an addition to Having A Blast, a silly fic pair I made for Sam and Rexis and his obsession with Blasto.

6) Untitled (thus far):

I recently heard of a 10k word count challenge for the month of March, held by @mebigbang and I’m thinking of doing something for it. It sounds mildly terrifying but an excellent challenge and one I know I can hit the word count on (HA) if my other fics are of any indication. I tagged their blog here so if any artists or authors are interested (there’s an art part as well to Mass Effect Big Bang) you can check it out. I’ve got a couple ideas floating around but given that there’s a level of anonymity I won’t describe them just yet. I don’t wanna break the rules before I decide if I even can jump in.

7) Post ME3 - currently untitled:

My take on the end of ME3 and how the people I care about make it through, a Garrus/Shep fic. It’s pretty amorphous atm since my OC fics have been taking up much more of my time.

8) Halfsies:

Alright, this one is... urk. It’s the most conceptualized original idea I’ve had yet to date. It’s one I’ve put together enough to potentially go through on. I just don’t know if I’m good enough to get published and I’ve been so stressed with life stuff going on the last few years I’m still at concept stage. Anyway, premise... let me see if I can even describe this right.

Have you ever seen something out of the corner of your eye and for an instant you know it’s real and you HAVE to look at it but then as soon as you do you explain it away? Oh that was just the shadow off the vase. Damn, my cat scared the shit out of me. Those are Halfsies. Halfsies live halfway been this realm and another and have no form until they’re fully Recognised. They WANT to be Recognised. It is the only driving need they have and they fight viciously for it, to be made Real. Our main character makes a game out of trying to trick herself into believing what startles her is real instead of explaining it away automatically and one day she accidentally makes one Real. The form it takes is exactly what the MC imagined so it’s rather cartoonish and surreal looking, but it immediately grabs the MC and tells it to stop. That ALL of the Halfsies, literally there are no ways to count them because they don’t have form and always create more, now know the MC can make them Real, Recognise them. And they ALL are after the MC now and will do anything, drive them insane if they have to, in order to be made Real. And the MC has to rely on their befriended Halfsie and a few other friends to escape.

Alright, I know I have more. I ALWAYS have more. But these are the only ones coming to mind right now.

Tagging @shekissesturians @isharaytaoshay @daddyvictus and @ithewriter

#wip meme #god that's a lot #fuck I wish I could just...#write for a living

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smolbeandrabbles · 5 years ago

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Love The Way You Love Me - Vince Kovac (Tangle)

Author’s Note: Whilst this will be a part of the ‘Relentless’ series (I say series. It’s more like another multi-part retcon) it’s still xOC. I love her name too much to not have a really short OC fic to get it out of my system.

Disclaimer: Anything to do with Tangle (so. Vince.) isn’t mine, the OC & writing is mine. This is the one occasion where a Lyric is mine!

Premise: In an attempt to solve his girlfriends architectural problems, Vince Kovac recons there’s only one thing he can do...

Words: 2857

Warnings: Swearing NOT Reader Insert

_____

So come with me and walk for awhile Can I spring you outta here and talk for awhile Gotta know what's the deal with you Mister now I'm really feeling you

If you got a little extra time Then won't you let me have it?

I like how your T-shirt cuts you right And how you melt me deep inside Oh, you're running in a different lane Don't make me chase you, boy, you know I'm game By the way you're rockin' it in them Nike's Won't you let me play on your team tonight We can go one-on-one, you and me That's the way it should be ---

The kitchen work top was cluttered with papers, books and technology. An array of architectural folders and drawings – from simple framework plans to extensive detail – scattered themselves in front of her as she squinted at her Laptop screen again. From easy exercises to the plain absurd, the design project she was currently working on was taking far longer for her to work out in her brain, to commit to paper, than she would like. Which is why she’d turned back to books. Luckily, from the complicated wording, the woman sitting scribbling away knew what they were talking about. Lyric Brennan reached for another book and studied her drawing carefully again skipping a few pages onto the next chapter, lazily she held the book open in one hand and twisted her hair around her pencil in the other – muttering as she did so… “Why would you ask for something so complicated when you already told me to make it simple on our phone call… That’s not simple… Do you have any idea how long this will take for someone to project plan… let alone build…? And they can’t figure that out until I can figure out how to draw it and fit it in here…” Lyric scanned the book, as if it would give her answers she knew it wouldn’t, and began scribbling away again.

Vince Kovac’s footsteps bounced down the stairs as he hummed some tune Lyric had recently heard on the radio – something catchy, it wasn’t his usual music taste, so far as she remembered…. “Morning!!” – The cheerful greeting was only returned with a mumbled, “Yeah…” “Lyric.” She didn’t look up from her book, staring hard at her drawing and then the computer again, eyebrows furrowing. Vince placed his hands on his hips “Oy! Ms.Brennan!” Lyric lifted her head slowly “What.” “Are you not talking this morning, or what?” She indicated to her computer “Like this isn’t giving me enough of a headache.” He scoffed at her jab “What is it?” “Corporate building…” “Oh, they want a little Lyric-al flair do they?” His pun didn’t even raise a smile, so something was up. “Uh huh. But what they are asking for is about as complicated as it gets, and hasn’t been well thought out at all…” “Long project?” “Will be if I need to oversee it.” “It’s… here right?” “Canada.” “CANADA!?!” “Mm hmmm…” Vince looked to all the books and drawings in front of her; including some building manuals he’d given her as a joke. She clearly wasn’t joking though – this was serious. “Oh.” “Yeah.” Lyric sighed “Sometimes I hate having an in industry name.” “Yeah, when they put those plaques up in the building and people walk in and can automatically tell it’s a Lyric Brennan building it’s just the f**king worst.” She gave a small smile “As long as it’s paying the bills… I suppose.” “Heh…” Vince nodded, then skipped around the table, and wrapped his arms around her; “Well, I can tell you’re busy, and I’ll leave you alone then…” “Oh, thanks.” Lyric closed the book in her hands and tossed it to one side. “Well, you’re not going to talk, when you’re doing... Heck – what even is that!?” “At this point. I can’t even tell you…” She leafed through her sheets to another drawing “This is what it should look like. But this is structural… And drawing it on paper structurally is not gonna…” She studied Vince’s face, and thought he had it on point, a builder’s worst nightmare. Essentially a corkscrew of glass and metal that would run in colours from one corner of the building diagonally to the other, and then up into the sky. Exactly the kind of artistic piece someone would want to hire Lyric for, though. “Don’t, whatever you do give them my business card.” “Shit! Should I ask for it back!?” Vince pushed her shoulder gently and brushed his lips to her cheek “When do you think you’ll be done?” “…Oh… I wouldn’t like to put a time to it…” Lyric bit her lips together as his hands ran down her shoulders to her sides and down her body to her thighs. “Vin.” “Aw, c’mon…” “It’ll take even longer if you pull me out of the zone…” “And how long have you been sitting here!?” “Since 5-?” “FIVE!? You left me alone in bed for 3 hours!?” He grabbed her waist, causing her to laugh as he peppered her with kisses “Oh, now I really need to drag you away from this! I deserve your love!!” “Oh really…” She pushed him back with her elbows “Get off! I have a compass and I’m not afraid to use it.” “How often are you going to threaten to stab me with drawing apparatus?” “Get on with your work and we’ll see what you deserve, Kovac.” He bit his lip at that. She always had a certain flair to the way she said his last name. She always had. And he’d always liked it that little bit more when she did. He straightened up, “I don’t have any sites to be on today, all legal paper work…” She gave a shrug and turned back to her computer “As long as you’re doing it.” Vince gave a tsk and rolled his eyes, for a girl who liked trying to break the laws of gravity, she sure loved nearly every other rule in the book. “And by the way, the password on your computer – waaaaaaay too easy. And your pin-number. Even easier.” “WHAT!? LYRIC! W-” There was a teasing grin on her face, even though she wasn’t turned to him to use it, with the way she tossed her white blonde hair over her shoulder. He’d always liked that too, the white bleeding into blue; “I’ve only used it once, come on, I’m not gonna tell anyone.” Lyric’s incredibly neat writing flowed across the page as she made further notes. He stared hard at her “…I’m changing them.” “Good. I like a challenge.” Vince narrowed his eyes; “Just f**king make sure the builder can understand those notes okay.” “Alright Kovac, far be it from me to insult the intelligence of any of your builder buddies.” “HA!” She heard him muttering as his footsteps wandered away, but ten minutes later he came back with a load of washing; Lyric gave him a look with a raised eyebrow, Vince, washing!? She shook her head and continued with her work. “Lyl. Did you wear my shirt to workout in; again!?!” Vince dragged one of his blue T-Shirts from the washing-machine. “Yup.” He sighed “Why??” She gave a smirk; “I like wearing your clothes and nothing much else.” He had to pause his train of thought before he said something he’d regret. For a woman who didn’t want to do anything until she’d finished working, Lyric certainly was going the wrong way about it. Truth was she just liked wearing his shirts to run in; they were way too big for her, but so comfortable. And every so often she’d wear one he’d worn for work earlier in the week – and if he couldn’t run with her that particular that day it was nice to breathe him in instead. Vince got up and came over to the table again, looking at all the stuff that wasn’t architecturally related. A single coffee mug. But nothing else. “Babe, didn’t you even have breakfast!?” “Oh… No…” He could understand why, once Lyric got obsessed over something she couldn’t finish, that became the only thing she could think on until she’d figured it out. He’d watched her in the back room getting frustrated and throwing both screwed up paper and pencils at the wall from time to time. “Do you want me to make you something…!?” She looked up to him slowly; “As long as there’s no banana involved?” “Yeah. Preferably.” “You’re missing out, you know. You should eat one before running. You know they give them out after marathons right?!” “Why do you think I don’t run marathons.” “Sure, it’s all to do with the banana’s…” She leant on her hand for a minute and those blue eyes of hers softened. It was moments like that that he would see those pretty almost violet lines that criss-crossed through them. “…Go on, surprise me.” “You sound like you need comfort food. Pancakes?” “Pancakes…?” She gave an almost childish smile “…Before running?” “Okay. I’ll make ‘em so you can still run on ‘em…” “Why thank you.” “Well, always got your best interests at heart, don’t I?” “I noticed…” She scratched the back of her head with her pencil as she looked back to her drawing “…Thank you…” Vince bent down and kissed her on the cheek gently, his unshaved face scratching against her skin and making her scrunch her face with a slight giggle; “Before I do that though - I’m gonna get ready…!” Lyric eyes widened suddenly as she froze, a smile spreading across her face, she turned quickly in her chair as Vince ascended the stairs, this was important too. “VIN..!!” He stopped and leaned over, “Yes---?” “I love you!!” She always loved that smile; “I love you too!”

Half an hour later Vince appeared again, in what looked like training gear. Lyric frowned but continued drawing, she had her suspicions but she’d have to wait to see if he proved them right. He was an efficient cook she would give him that. And no sooner was she finished with jotting down notes for the next piece of interior design was she receiving another kiss on the cheek as he placed the pancakes in front of her; “High energy, low sugar. You’ll need it, given how far YOU run.” She shook her head after him, daring him to say it again. He didn’t, just grinned. She ate slowly and placed her attention back on her work, rather than he partner. Even as Vince laced his trainers and attached a step-counter to the waistband of his tracks. Lyric was passed again as he collected his phone and zipped that into his pocket too; it was the one thing she always insisted he take. What did make Lyric prick up her ears, though, was the sound of the front door key – “Vince! What are you doing…?” “Going running!!” She opened her mouth in shock, for all his talk about her running he was going to go early-!? “Without me!?” “You’re working…” “I don’t have to be…” His footsteps echoed down the hallway and Vince appeared again, taking one of her hands, “Well come on then…!” For a second it looked like she might drop everything and stand up, but she hesitated and he knew he’d lost her as soon as he’d got her; “NO! Oh God – all this stuff is due next week and I’m really no better off! I’ve got two days before I-!” Vince waved his hands to calm her down; “Well, you need a break!!!” “N-No!! I need to do this – I’m focused!” He tipped his head and pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, clearly less than impressed; “Can you at least give me a straight answer?” She dropped his hand with a shake of her head; it’s because she didn’t really want to say no to spending time with him. But Lyric knew how much work she had to get done. And how long she’d be out running. The times just didn’t collate properly. Vince tsk’d and ran upstairs again. Lyric sighed and looked to the scattered papers in front of her – how badly did she want to be with him? Sure, she wanted to finish this, right now, but right now she was more worried that Vince would leave and not come back. Like it or not, she needed him to bounce ideas off, or for advice. A book couldn’t given her answers it didn’t have written. And certainly couldn’t make her laugh with a snarky attitude. She slammed her laptop and book shut – sticking a paper in as a book mark, she lined her pencils up to the side of the drawing she was finishing, and straightened everything else on the table out neatly. Jumping up from the table and taking the stairs two at a time, Lyric rounded the corner into their bedroom and rooted quickly through her dresser, she found a running shirt and a pair of leggings – throwing them onto the bed. Vince appeared and leaned on the door with a grin; “Ah. I see you’ve changed your mind…!” She opened another draw and ran the hair tie around her wrist; “Yeah... urm… Just let me change… Uhhh… Yeah. Right.” He rolled his eyes in mocking; “Oh, come on. I’m not waiting for you now! You’ve got two minutes I’m counting!!!” Vince started his stop watch, (half as a joke) as Lyric gave him a look, then sprinted to the bathroom to change. Vince raised an eyebrow; “What I can’t watch you change now!?” “F**k you!” “You may when we get back if you like?” At least he heard her laughing as she slipped off her shorts and shirt and replaced them with her running gear. Tying her hair back into a high pony tail; maybe that wasn’t always the best idea, she knew he’d make the same joke about pulling her hair. Aw, let him make it. See how he likes it!

“Right I’m going!!!” Vince laughed knocking on the door as he passed to go downstairs. “HUH!?” Lyric thought hard for a second – no way that was two minutes…! She laced her trainers and flung open the door – scrambling down the stairs as Vince closed the front door, “NO!! VIN!! WAIT UP-!!!” She sighed, frustrated, kicking the door, “Aw. C’MON….” Lyric turned, picking up her own phone and fishing her keys from her work bag, just in case she didn’t catch up. Checking she had everything she needed, Lyric opened the door – closing it firmly behind her, she ran after Vince at almost full tilt, who was jogging gently, he was waiting for her…

She sprinted passed him and turned around; now jogging backwards. He flashed her a smirk; “Was wondering when you’d turn up!!” “Shut up. I was calculating your mistakes. I recon you jumped the gun by at least 12 seconds!!” “Did I?” “No, you know you did!” “Well. C’mon then! We’re doing a round of the block!” She scoffed “You’ll be lucky if you get away with the block. At this rate you’re not even getting away with the running path.” “Oh, don’t make me run all the way to the track and back.” “Ohhh-! Good idea, hope that 12 seconds was worth it.” He let out a groan; “You’ll be the death of me woman.” She laughed; “What a way to go!” Lyric levelled off and jogged next to him, getting as close to him as possible; “Okay, what’s going on...?” “I’m cold…” “Cold, eh?” Vince glanced around, it was autumn sure, but it was hardly cold yet. Plus at the rate she usually ran she’d be hot in no time at all. “What’s wrong with you!?” “What’s so wrong with wanting to be with you…?” That was unnecessarily smooth, Vince frowned for a second “Hm. Nothing, But I feel like if you want to be with me and burn calories we wouldn’t necessarily have to go outside…” She only looked mildly disgusted with him; “I hope you want to end up in the middle of the road with comments like that.” “How are you not used to me by now?” “I am, sometimes I still can’t believe what I’m hearing.” “And yet-!” He turned those smart blue eyes on her and she shook her head; “For some reason I still love you.”

This continued for about half an hour – until they came to the park in the middle of town, by this time Vince was beginning to slow, no such luck that his other half would be doing the same. Lyric was now slaloming through the piles of fallen leaves and jumping every couple of times she did this – turning and changing pace whenever she could. He couldn’t help but smile at her self-training. But she slowed down and turned, now walking backwards. Vince was grateful that now he could slow right down as well, and pretty soon found himself almost on top of her; given she was walking so slow.

Of course, this was Lyrics’s plan, and she placed her arms around him, almost at a standstill she was now being dragged backwards by Vince’s paces forwards. After realising this would only end up with him tripping, or her on the floor, she decided it best to walk again; but this time it was awkward. Luckily Vince wound his arms around her waist before she fell and slowed down his walk even more, they both eventually stopped – and closed the gap between them. Lyric’s hands moving through his hair slowly and his hands caressing the small of her back as she did so. Ah! Now that’s much better!

The autumn leaves fell gently around them as they kissed…

---

@dennismitchell @wltz-bby @happyskywhale #MendoTagSquad. @3134045126 @kylo-ren-has-an-8pack Figured I might have got a Vince Kovac crew...?

#Vince Kovac #Ben Mendelsohn #Vince Kovac x OC #Tangle #LYRIC!#You know I never used you... so I upgraded (down... graded?) you a little and #...you fit Vince well. So. Babe! Welcome to Tumblr. And a Mendo.#From scientist to architect.#Be-aut-iful!#68 #Shame Vince you just missed out on being Mr.69 #Lyric #Team 2009 #PNVJ

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