#i was going to say something about natural spring water and how the us quality of tap water isnt universally excellnt

[leo-interactive-fiction]

I wanted to ask, do the RO's cut/maintain their own hair, or do they have it done by someone else?

Haha let's see...

E tries to make sure to groom their hair every morning. They can have embarrassing bed head because they are a restless sleeper that moves around a lot, so they always spend time making sure they're presentable. They get their hair cut every few weeks or so, and they're not too concerned about maintaining an exact length. "As long as it doesn't get in the way too much, I'm fine with it? W-Well, if you have any particular preferences...J-Just for reference!"

R used to go to a personal stylist every few days or so to keep their appearance fresh, although since becoming excommunicated from the family they haven't had access to such funds. Nevertheless, they still take very diligent care of their appearance, and the results speak for themselves. "Hey now, not everyone is born good-looking. It takes a great amount of dedication to maintain attractive qualities. It just so happens I'm hard working and blessed. Lucky you."

L always had their hair cut and maintained by their butler, Walter. Since the journey to Triaina, they have been following a detailed instructional pamphlet created by Walter on the specifics of their grooming needs, such as the exact length to cut and what products are used. They can't follow some of the instructions to the butlers' exact specificity, but they do their best. "Um, I apologize for any inconvenience, but would you happen to know if the water here is locally sourced from a freshwater spring? O-Oh, 'tap water', you say...? N-No, that shouldn't be an issue! Thank you!"

V handles all of their own grooming with the humble contents of their travel bag, which includes a knife, razor, scissors, pocket mirror, and a bar of soap. There are always traces of split ends, rogue hairs, or ragged lopsidedness, but it is never completely disheveled. It is enough to show you that divine intervention must have taken place somewhere along the way to keep their hair from looking like a matted rug left on the side of the road. "...Oh, I missed a spot. Hmm......Commander, don't stare. Get my knife. I'll fix it."

P doesn't put very much effort into their overall appearance, but they make an exception for their hair. At the very least, they spend some time in the morning to make sure it doesn't cause problems for them or get in the way, and in very special circumstances, they can spend an overabundance of time trying to style it to look better. Unfortunately, their hair naturally fights back against any drastic changes to its normal rugged look, so it requires a lot of effort to style. "Stupid piece of-- Hey M, can you get off your ass and get me a damn hairclip or something? I know you have some...Eh? What do you mean I'm taking too long?! No, it's not for a date with-- Just get me something for this!"

M's hair is a constant tangle of persevering bedhead. It has become the natural rest state of their hair, to the point where you don't think even a thorough combing session could make a difference. They don't even remember the last time they went to a barber to get it cut. Or perhaps they were just asleep when it happened. Nevertheless, it carries a very loose and natural feel to it that M enjoys. "Just so...you know...it can get even...messier...when I'm in bed...If you don't...believe...you're welcome to...'fact check' me..."

Raven's grooming habits can best be described between the ranges of 'potentially hazardous' and 'negligent character assassination'. During their time living in the backwash alleys, they've come to terms with all manner of trash and grime in their hair, and their method of cutting involves a quick chop with a knife when it gets a little too long for their liking, leaving it an uneven and jagged mess. You can't tell how often they actually wash their hair, but since coming to the academy and having access to a running water source, you haven't found anything too worrisome tangled in messy tangled in, although the sleek oily sheen has never faded. "If you tell me I'm not good enough to draw your gaze as I am...I don't mind changing everything about myself. My hair, my manners, my very identity... As long as you can look at me, with those same eyes...I'll do anything...!"

S has surprisingly tidy hair. Despite often having the rest of themselves covered in grime from their work, their hair stays relatively spotless. They say those from the Dens pick up habits to maintain a clean appearance while living through the harsh and sandy desert environment of Orden, but you can't say how much of that is very factual when it's relayed through S's unkempt grin. "Why ya sweatin' the small stuff? It ain't like I never shower or somethin'. You seen how huge those showers in the gym are? Ya can practically take a lap in there! How can ya not take advantage of that?! Speakin' of which, do ya think they'd let me have one for the dorms...? Dont worry, i'd share!"

F's hair has not been cut in a very long time, and they take great lengths to personally maintain and preserve it. No one but a select few are allowed to even touch her hair for normal maintenence, and not even Fiore is allowed to brush or style it. Their hair and their clothing are of the few personal features among them that they claim full ownership of, without any assistance or pretext, and so they safeguard those features very closely. "...You are wondering who did my hair? And what, pray tell, would you do with such information? Have them style your own? Well...perhaps if the discussion of extending your servitude is put underway...I may find the time in that period to indulge you..."

Thank ya for the ask!

[rotm-channel]

RotM:Chapter III-The Hidden Truth

Since Ancient times there have been sightings and recordings of strange manifestations in the sky.

It was always speculated on the possibilities of….visitors from another world

Today from the skies of California!

The fields of Kansas!

The Freezing Wastelands of the Poles!

The Rice Patties of the Orient!

The Atlantic Ocean!

The Airlanes of the world!

…come persistent reports of UFOs Unidentified flying objects which we have come to know as…flying saucers,something had to be done!

In Dayton Ohio the Air Intelligence Command gathers in search data from all corners of the globe 95 percent of the objects prove to be of natural origin.While 5 percent remain still listed as unknown.

The Air Force is aware of the widely held belief that some of these could be flying saucers from another planet,while there is nothing conclusive in the evidence.The probing and digesting the probing information about UFOs continues unceasingly!

As a result headquarters of the hemispheric defense command in Colorado Springs issued an order:

Any military installations are to fire on sight at any flying objects unidentifiable.

But even as they did this the military wondered if their know-how and best weapons would be effective in any battle of

THE EARTH VS THE FLYING SAUCERS!!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Ahhh that's so scary!”Bob said

“Aw come on Bob it's only a movie”Beastman comforted him

“How about a Roger Corman film?Or better yet a documentary.”The Cockroach man suggested.

“Why not a beach film I love those” Link was saying remembering the good old days of rampage and women.

I didn't really pay much attention to that movie they were putting on,besides I was so big I could hardly tell what was going on. The set was so tiny. Sigh…time sure does pass here at a snail's pace.I met some other inmates like Beastman he was quite nice and cultured but we could only see him only at daytime because at night no matter where he was he would lose control of his instincts and be completely feral and dangerous.

Then there was Jaromir the Vodyanoy(or water spirit) who went as far as to flood a village for not leaving his lake alone ,while he went on the run afterward through lakes heading towards the sea,it ended with a showdown with the WASPs(Worldwide Aquatic Security Patrol)after which he was captured and was used as an example to other water spirits to be wary of the consequences of their actions.

Then he was a japanese Yokai Shapeshifter he was a mysterious robber and stole from many jewelry collections he was called the invisible striker as he would take the form of any guard or official,while it was hard to catch him they eventually did and locked him up here .Its true form was Kitsume which meant fox.

And many,many more.

“Even among misfits I'm a misfit”I said to myself

Meanwhile Bob changed the channel and was watching static

“Woah did you get that?CCSSSSHHH!Now that is quality tv!”He said mimicking the static

“Bob, it's on static change the channel!”Beastman said in reply

“Yeah, put on something cool and tropical, ''Link suggested. Hopefully he thought of himself as being very cool especially after being in ice for millennia and he loved the warmth and atmosphere of it.It was a convenient truth that the planet had left the Ice age that froze him.

“You mean like ... .Monster Beach?”The dim-witted Blob said

“Oh No not that again”Link said annoyed

I was looking over the oatmeal and reminiscing of the good old days,days which were not long ago,I just lost almost any taste for food, my life was without any flavor. My life is just dull, gray,monotonous and uncomfortable with enough food to keep me going yet not have any taste to give me an appetite.I had been here for two weeks and It was hard for me to be familiarized with this weird life .It felt like a fever dream .As if I had gone insane and was locked up and put on medications…and yet it was so real.

“Well…at least with this gunk I won't have any weight woes”After this gunk isn't very tempting I said

“Yeah at least I won't gain any weight!”I said aloud trying to stay optimistic.

“But you've already gained Tons of weight” Bob said brainlessly and unintentionally insensitively

“THANKS BOB!”I said I was angered by his remark,He most likely didn't mean it of course. but i couldn't help it.Im not the type to be sarcastic but this was just so…well…different.

Suddenly a large helicopter appeared and it was towing a light,the light which guided Grubzilla back to his cell where he would slumber, meaning it was time for him and us to go to sleep.

“Oh well it's time to go to sleep, good night!”Cockroach said

“Sleep well Amazonia!”Link said

“Have a nice night Ginormica!”Bob said

“Her name is actually Titanica!”Beastman said

“No Its Susan”I said

While I chose the name Titanica it was against my will i just found it to be the best of a bad lot. My,I wish they would just shut up and stop calling me that!I am not Titanica,I am Susan!

In the cell I was deep in thought and then I saw the kitten “Hang in there”Poster and said to myself“Okay,Susan Murphy Hang in there and face the facts.You're in Jail unfairly imprisoned and none of my friends know where I am,but they know I'm missing, Derek might know some powerful people,Mom and Dad will also do there best,and everyone present at the wedding saw it happen and will…….. “EUREKA!That's it!”I shouted loudly and happily.

But then I remembered I was under 24 hour surveillance by the personell observing me. So I thought to myself“Some of my friends and family were filming and taking photos at my wedding,and would still be filming and taking photos when I turned to a giantess.That's excellent proof!Like who wouldn't want to take a photo of something as weird as that…The Government can't keep me a secret anymore!They must know I've been kidnapped.The Government can't keep me with that out and about!They just can't!"After that I calmed down from my elation and went to sleep.

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

I had a strange dream that night,that I was a celebrity and that bilions watched videos of me growing up to giant size on televisions and at meets and well just frankly everywhere.And that I was a phenomenon known as “Bridezilla!”. I felt odd and embarrassed,then again many are most likely seeing the video while I was still dreaming.Oh well I couldn't be that bad!

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

The next morning as I woke up I went into the day with new hopes.

Suddenly a beeping sound came.The beeping sound that announced the meals we were to get.The other inmates noticed it as well.

“Oh Boy!It's eat time” Link said happily as he and the gang raced up to the table.

Link dished up his favorite meal,raw fish!He happily dug into it in his primitive manner.

“That is thoroughly repulsive” Doc said

Then he was dished up his food,trash.

“Oh look, a lovely slipper” he said and started to devour it,Bob tried to reach out to take some ,but Doc noticed and promptly pushed him away.

“Sorry but this is my rubbish pile”he said to the blob

He happily indulged in it,When I first saw Doc eat trash I wondered how could someone like eating trash but then I remembered that he said he fused himself with genes of a cockroach and that it not only affected him physically but also mentally,It was like from that book Metamorphosis where that guy got turned into a bug and found how much he loved rotten things.

Then again i must admit Doc has been doing a pretty good job of disregarding his bug instincts and has been acting very kind and civil .In fact I bet he's the nicest person i met since…the day…As for Bob seeing as he's such a simpleton…well such a thing wouldn't really have much taste or completely bizzare taste at that.

“Doc!DOC!DOC!DOOOOOCCCC!!!” Bob screamed in terror

“I forgot to breathe. What will I do?How can I breathe help me Doc!”The brainless blob screamed in terror!

“Bob,you are a Blob and you do not need to breathe”Cockroach deadpanned,this wasn't the first time this week Bob had that type of problem.

“WOW!THANKS DOC YOU'RE A LIFESAVER!”Bob said happily and I saw him shaking the hands with Doc

Some time later I layed down alone,when suddenly I felt a scurrying up my legs. I used my hand to scrape it off. It was Jacques and he went flying all the way to the wall and hit it with a thud his hands were twitching.

"OH!Im so sorry!"I said realizing I accidentally crushed him,how emberassing!

“No no my dear it is my fault entirely I should have asked before i climbed on you at times the bug part of me takes control and I don't notice”Jacques-Yves said

“Anyway I have something to tell you”He said while he scurried over in front of me.

“My examinations of you have proven most intriguing,Susan.I have no Idea what could have caused it.Do the scientist from the examination know anything about it?”He asked me curiously

“The scientists just call it Chemical X”I said “They don't know much about it,in fact they are not even sure if it was an element,it could have been anything really.

“Well ,maybe we should give it a name then”Jacques said

“Titanium?No wait that's already been taken".Cockroach mused

Susanium?He said,I blushed, it was nice but kinda unfitting.

“Cockroachium?”I said,Doc smiled back.

“I don't know,I have been running checks on you,whatever it is it affect you completely right down to your quantum levels”Doc was deep in thought

“Hmmm,Quantonium?It seems fitting.”He said

“Yeah,I think that's just a fine name for it,if it even is an element.”I said Doc's name was okay for now.

“Well for all I know and the scientist too, what happened to you could have been anything like just a magic trick that changed you,but that would be daft!”he said jokingly

“Yeah”Was all I said,he was right and it made me think,maybe it wasn't some kind of element or radiation or all that jazz.Maybe it could be something beyond our comprehension…then again maybe I was just overthinking,I looked back at Jacques.

I liked him. He was so nice to me and so understanding,maybe because he was at one point a normal human being too and he was rather intelligent in addition to being accustomed to all sorts of beasts

“Doc, this place is like Alcatraz for the supernatural” I said to the tiny bug headed white cloth scientist.

His large cockroach eyes looked at me and then thought about something and then he said

“More like Tartarus!”

“What?”I answered,like what's this tartar something?

“Its from Greek mythology Doc swiftly replied It was used to imprison Demons,Titans and certain humans as a prison,you know interesting story the titans who were giants led by Cronus were banished there as punishment It was said to have been a prison built by the gods.Odd how there are such strange parallels between the real and the mythical…then again you're mythical giantess and you real,I guess it's just a coincidence”The seemingly tiny doctor told me

I was amazed by his knowledge and kinda embarased by my ignorance,so then left to the side for awhile

Monger arrived inside and again a helicopter used its light to direct Grubzilla away,I was disgusted by the way he treated him as if he was just an object

“Monger,I need to have a word with you” I said trying to look serious,I was waiting for this all day…at least i thought it was day,Deep down i was nervous however.

“Sure thing”He answered and the flew to me

“What about..visits?When will I see anyone from my family again?”I said

“No visits to any monsters ,sorry but that's just the way it is can't bring just anybody here for any reason we gotta keep this place and you secret”Monger said

“How long will I have to be here?" I demanded “How long will you keep this little game of yours up?Another day?week?Month or a year?”I said desperately as tried to come to terms with his previous sentence

“Forever” Monger said cooly and calmly and landed his jetpack and turned it off and walked towards me

“After all the military is expert at covering up and creating misinformations to fill in the gaps…If it is necessary that is…after all most think the Easter Bunny is a fable.”He explained

“So…I'm just gonna rot here for always and always and always, for doing nothing wrong?”I said “In fact a lot of these other creatures are too!And they arent all that bad”

“Well,I wouldn't say so”!Monger said

“But they're innocent!”I told Monger in a defiant tone!

“Innocent eh?”Monger said

“Actually most if not all are guilty. Each of them went on a rampage,caused destruction,were a danger to society and possibly even killed people intentionally or not!Grubzilla has the highest damage and death count by far and while he didnt mean to destroy part of Tokyo ,he is still a hazard and a big one at that!Link went on a rampage and kidnapped many innocent women and killed a several men who were trying to stop him from getting the girl.”

"And Beastman killed several people too,no wonder he gave himself up as he realized he couldn't control himself at night in the slightest.And wisely saw this as the correct choice"

"And that Blob, while he can only eat inorganic matter he still eat through a few city blocks caused property damage several people were injured and he imperiled many innocent lives!If You are in any doubt we have the M-Files for it and even if not convinced then we even have footage of there rampages!"

“But I didn't go on a rampage!”I protested,I WAS IN THE RIGHT!I didn't Kill anyone,I didn't intentionally become a giantess,or intentionally cause any trouble .Im Innocent .I'm supposed to be free!

“True!But you must understand that you did cause some havoc though unintentionally as well as being well…a giantess,I'm sorry but you were just too dangerous to be around,that and we need to keep myths hidden and Giants aren't exactly easy to hide or cover up.And If you would be free many would panic and possibly even try to kill you. And also we have agreements for cover-ups for a reason you know for your benefit and societies at large”Monger said

“How did you even think you'll cover me up?And all these creatures and their actions as well?”I said trying to get him off his arguments though he did plant a seed of doubt in my head with his proclamations

“Well Link was actually “revealed” to be an actor in a suit who was part of a movie production and the whole thing including the footage was brushed off as a publicity stunt.The Wolf-man was just a gag of several teeagers who had a suit and scared people with it.”

“Bob was just called a lab explosion which caused the damage and some of the gasses escaping from it ,caused people to hallucinate.”

He finished his long speech with “I Could go on but you get the point.”

“But you can't just expect people to unsee me!There were many by me and I wouldn't be surprised if photos or videos were taken of it!You just can't tell them to unsee that!And you can't just do as if I never existed!”I said to try and fight against all of his statements.

“True,but we can give “explanations” and “reveal the truth to the public”.As for those who saw you we just advised them to not talk about it,besides no one would believe them.And those Photos were destroyed and while a video of it was leaked by someone at the wedding and shown on a Mystery channel we quickly disavowed its legitimacy.We said that it was actually done as a parody of monster movie made by some students in Modesto and sent there actually to promote their film efforts”

So…I really was alone asking if my parents or friends would visit would obviously be fruitless so I asked for the last remaining thing

“Can I at the very least call my parents or write to them?”I said holding on to a last string of hope for some,any contact

“That is not an option,there is a risk of an information leak”Monger continued in a stoic voice cutting off the last thread of hope

“EVEN A SERIAL KILLER HAS THE RIGHT TO THAT!”I screamed in rage,I was infuriated,I screamed so loud that some glass from some of the observatories cracked and broke.

Monger gave me a disapproving look which then turned into one which looked more like disappointment.

“I am sorry”He said

And with that he walked away…

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So I contemplated the whole situation while some know the videos are taken as fake and anyone in Modesto who saw me would be discouraged and my parents couldn't do anything.I was…On my own.

I sat down and cuddled myself into a ball into one corner.I could feel tears slowly forming in my eyes.

“Cmon Susan”I said to myself “Get up and face it.It aint all bad!”I had to push through it.No more crying now!I thought that maybe what he told me were lies…fat chance!

So here I am in my dimly lit room,not long after the lights went out and the room plunged into darkness.I went down and started to cry again,I curled up into a ball and eventually stopped crying.I tried to make myself happy.

I tried to still dream about the happy days, the days of being NORMAL!Those days have to be back.

Then I thought about the test they conducted on me and those surveys of my body.There still is hope!The scientists were working out to find out what happened to me,and if they did they could cure me and everything could be just Honky Dory again…

“But…if they're trying to figure me out ,there must be more to it”I thought to myself.If they figured out how I work,what would stop them from making their own giants?I thought to myself. So I have two outcomes…and both bad…and even if they cure me, who knows how long…will Derek still be waiting for me?

That night I had a nightmare, giants destroying city blocks crushing innocent people causing war,death,famine and plagues…well ok maybe not plagues but still…..all this…and then I saw myself being pointed at by the victims in what was left of Modesto“You……you did this”One said “No wait I didn't mean to I”I tried to defend myself and those victims...they were my friends and "choke"family! “You…did this to us”Another one said. “This was all your fault,If it were not for you we wouldn't have lost everyone we knew,our homes and suffered greatly under all of this”

“MONSTER!MONSTER!MONSTER!”My former bes friends chanted while pointing at me in the ruins of my hometown."Wait Im sorry!I never wanted this.

Then I saw that they brought to me Derek…he was dead and they said “He Died because of you,”I looked at Derek…his starry eyes still looking outward as if searching for me,never to see me again in this barren wasteland.

“DEREK?DEREK!DEREK!”I cried out,Clutching his body,we would be forever separated husband and wife.Then I cried out “NOOOOO!!!!!”

With a shock I woke up and looked around just to make sure I was still here.

“Oh,It was only a bad dream”I said in relief, resting myself and giving a large sigh of relief,everything calmed down and was quite save for my breathing,I then thought back to the experiments,what happened in the dream could become maybe one day a sad reality.

I really have to get out of here.

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

Firstly the end was done as a nightmare (So if it doesn't make sense or have contrivances i did it intentionally to boil it down to her worst fears and pains coming to get her,after all dreams(and nightmares) have no limitations and can really show us thing we cant see)

The Next Parts will be different:There lenghts may vary due to what part of the story thell  tell and I will change the POV character too to give us more insight and characterisation of these characters(I am working on several chapters at once to make better connections between the stories and to plan ahead so sorry for the delays im working on it still)

I made this fake-out opening just because i thought that the monsters should watch something in there spare time(also yes Earth vs the Flying Saucers is a real film I had on dvd and though quoting it would make the opening more interesting…and those 5 percent are most likely the guardians and other such magical beings)

[theburgessobserver]

Pt.3 The Hidden Truth

Since Ancient times there have been sightings and recordings of strange manifestations in the sky.

It was always speculated on the possibilities of….visitors from another world

Today from the skies of California!

The fields of Kansas!

The Freezing Wastelands of the Poles!

The Rice Patties of the Orient!

The Atlantic Ocean!

The Airlanes of the world!

…come persistent reports of UFOs Unidentified flying objects which we have come to know as…flying saucers,something had to be done!

In Dayton Ohio the Air Intelligence Command gathers in search data from all corners of the globe 95 percent of the objects prove to be of natural origin.While 5 percent remain still listed as unknown.

The Air Force is aware of the widely held belief that some of these could be flying saucers from another planet,while there is nothing conclusive in the evidence.The probing and digesting the probing information about UFOs continues unceasingly!

As a result headquarters of the hemispheric defense command in Colorado Springs issued an order:

Any military installations are to fire on sight at any flying objects unidentifiable.

But even as they did this the military wondered if their know-how and best weapons would be effective in any battle of

THE EARTH VS THE FLYING SAUCERS!!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Ahhh that's so scary!”Bob said

“Aw come on Bob it's only a movie”Beastman comforted him

“How about a Roger Corman film?Or better yet a documentary.”The Cockroach man suggested.

“Why not a beach film I love those” Link was saying remembering the good old days of rampage and women.

I didn't really pay much attention to that movie they were putting on,besides I was so big I could hardly tell what was going on. The set was so tiny. Sigh…time sure does pass here at a snail's pace.I met some other inmates like Beastman he was quite nice and cultured but we could only see him only at daytime because at night no matter where he was he would lose control of his instincts and be completely feral and dangerous.

Then there was Jaromir the Vodyanoy(or water spirit) who went as far as to flood a village for not leaving his lake alone ,while he went on the run afterward through lakes heading towards the sea,it ended with a showdown with the WASPs(World Aquanaut Security Patrol)after which he was captured and was used as an example to other water spirits to be wary of the consequences of their actions.

Then he was a japanese Yokai Shapeshifter he was a mysterious robber and stole from many jewelry collections he was called the invisible striker as he would take the form of any guard or official,while it was hard to catch him they eventually did and locked him up here .Its rue form was Kitsume which meant fox.

Then there was the Goblin Queen.She is from what I heard from Doc the queen and warrior champion of her subterranean hidden kingdom.But that was not enough for her,when the treaty was signed she was against all the way through and disregarded it many times.In the end she was taken here to prevent her from causing real trouble,unlike others she had many perks like looser rules,far better quarters etc. mainly due to her background and power and to keep her happy again to prevent trouble from her domain.

“Even among misfits I'm a misfit”I said to myself

Meanwhile Bob changed the channel and was watching static

“Woah did you get that?CCSSSSHHH!Now that is quality tv!”He said mimicking the static

“Bob, it's on static change the channel!”Beastman said in reply

“Yeah, put on something cool and tropical, ''Link suggested. Hopefully he thought of himself as being very cool especially after being in ice for millennia and he loved the warmth and atmosphere of it.It was a convenient truth that the planet had left the Ice age that froze him.

“You mean like ... .Monster Beach?”The dim-witted Blob said

“Oh No not that again”Link said annoyed

I was looking over the oatmeal and reminiscing of the good old days,days which were not long ago,I just lost almost any taste for food, my life was without any flavor. My life is just dull, gray,monotonous and uncomfortable with enough food to keep me going yet not have any taste to give me an appetite.I had been here for two weeks and It was hard for me to be familiarized with this weird life .It felt like a fever dream .As if I had gone insane and was locked up and put on medications…and yet it was so real.

“Well…at least with this gunk I won't have any weight woes”After this gunk isn't very tempting I said

“Yeah at least I won't gain any weight!”I said aloud trying to stay optimistic.

“But you've already gained Tons of weight” Bob said brainlessly and unintentionally insensitively

“THANKS BOB!”I said I was angered by his remark,He most likely didn't mean it of course. but i couldn't help it.Im not the type to be sarcastic but this was just so…well…different.

Suddenly a large helicopter appeared and it was towing a light,the light which guided Grubzilla back to his cell where he would slumber, meaning it was time for him and us to go to sleep.

“Oh well it's time to go to sleep, good night!”Cockroach said

“Sleep well Amazonia!”Link said

“Have a nice night Ginormica!”Bob said

“Her name is actually Titanica!”Beastman said

“No Its Susan”I said

While I chose the name Titanica it was against my will i just found it to be the best of a bad lot. My,I wish they would just shut up and stop calling me that!I am not Titanica,I am Susan!

In the cell I was deep in thought and then I saw the kitten “Hang in there”Poster and said to myself“Okay,Susan Murphy Hang in there and face the facts.You're in Jail unfairly imprisoned and none of my friends know where I am,but they know I'm missing, Derek might know some powerful people,Mom and Dad will also do there best,and everyone present at the wedding saw it happen and will…….. “EUREKA!That's it!”I shouted loudly and happily.

But then I remembered I was under 24 hour surveillance by the personell observing me. So I thought to myself“Some of my friends and family were filming and taking photos at my wedding,and would still be filming and taking photos when I turned to a giantess.That's excellent proof!Like who wouldn't want to take a photo of something as weird as that…The Government can't keep me a secret anymore!They must know I've been kidnapped.The Government can't keep me with that out and about!They just can't!"After that I calmed down from my elation and went to sleep.

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

I had a strange dream that night,that I was a celebrity and that bilions watched videos of me growing up to giant size on televisions and at meets and well just frankly everywhere.And that I was a phenomenon known as “Bridezilla!”. I felt odd and embarrassed,then again many are most likely seeing the video while I was still dreaming.Oh well I couldn't be that bad!

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

The next morning as I woke up I went into the day with new hopes.

Suddenly a beeping sound came.The beeping sound that announced the meals we were to get.The other inmates noticed it as well.

“Oh Boy!It's eat time” Link said happily as he and the gang raced up to the table.

Link dished up his favorite meal,raw fish!He happily dug into it in his primitive manner.

“That is thoroughly repulsive” Doc said

Then he was dished up his food,trash.

“Oh look, a lovely slipper” he said and started to devour it,Bob tried to reach out to take some ,but Doc noticed and promptly pushed him away.

“Sorry but this is my rubbish pile”he said to the blob

He happily indulged in it,When I first saw Doc eat trash I wondered how could someone like eating trash but then I remembered that he said he fused himself with genes of a cockroach and that it not only affected him physically but also mentally,It was like from that book Metamorphosis where that guy got turned into a bug and found how much he loved rotten things.

Then again i must admit Doc has been doing a pretty good job of disregarding his bug instincts and has been acting very kind and civil .In fact I bet he's the nicest person i met since…the day…As for Bob seeing as he's such a simpleton…well such a thing wouldn't really have much taste or completely bizzare taste at that.

“Doc!DOC!DOC!DOOOOOCCCC!!!” Bob screamed in terror

“I forgot to breathe. What will I do?How can I breathe help me Doc!”The brainless blob screamed in terror!

“Bob,you are a Blob and you do not need to breathe”Cockroach deadpanned,this wasn't the first time this week Bob had that type of problem.

“WOW!THANKS DOC YOU'RE A LIFESAVER!”Bob said happily and I saw him shaking the hands with Doc

Some time later I layed down alone,when suddenly I felt a scurrying up my legs. I used my hand to scrape it off. It was Jacques and he went flying all the way to the wall and hit it with a thud his hands were twitching.

"OH!Im so sorry!"I said realizing I accidentally crushed him,how emberassing!

“No no my dear it is my fault entirely I should have asked before i climbed on you at times the bug part of me takes control and I don't notice”Jacques-Yves said

“Anyway I have something to tell you”He said while he scurried over in front of me.

“My examinations of you have proven most intriguing,Susan.I have no Idea what could have caused it.Do the scientist from the examination know anything about it?”He asked me curiously

“The scientists just call it Chemical X”I said “They don't know much about it,in fact they are not even sure if it was an element,it could have been anything really.

“Well ,maybe we should give it a name then”Jacques said

“Titanium?No wait that's already been taken".Cockroach mused

Susanium?He said,I blushed, it was nice but kinda unfitting.

“Cockroachium?”I said,Doc smiled back.

“I don't know,I have been running checks on you,whatever it is it affect you completely right down to your quantum levels”Doc was deep in thought

“Hmmm,Quantonium?It seems fitting.”He said

“Yeah,I think that's just a fine name for it,if it even is an element.”I said Doc's name was okay for now.

“Well for all I know and the scientist too, what happened to you could have been anything like just a magic trick that changed you,but that would be daft!”he said jokingly

“Yeah”Was all I said,he was right and it made me think,maybe it wasn't some kind of element or radiation or all that jazz.Maybe it could be something beyond our comprehension…then again maybe I was just overthinking,I looked back at Jacques.

I liked him. He was so nice to me and so understanding,maybe because he was at one point a normal human being too and he was rather intelligent in addition to being accustomed to all sorts of beasts

“Doc, this place is like Alcatraz for the supernatural” I said to the tiny bug headed white cloth scientist.

His large cockroach eyes looked at me and then thought about something and then he said

“More like Tartarus!”

“What?”I answered,like what's this tartar something?

“Its from Greek mythology Doc swiftly replied It was used to imprison Demons,Titans and certain humans as a prison,you know interesting story the titans who were giants led by Cronus were banished there as punishment It was said to have been a prison built by the gods.Odd how there are such strange parallels between the real and the mythical…then again you're mythical giantess and you real,I guess it's just a coincidence”The seemingly tiny doctor told me

I was amazed by his knowledge and kinda embarased by my ignorance,so then left to the side for awhile

Monger arrived inside and again a helicopter used its light to direct Grubzilla away,I was disgusted by the way he treated him as if he was just an object

“Monger,I need to have a word with you” I said trying to look serious,I was waiting for this all day…at least i thought it was day,Deep down i was nervous however.

“Sure thing”He answered and the flew to me

“What about..visits?When will I see anyone from my family again?”I said

“No visits to any monsters ,sorry but that's just the way it is can't bring just anybody here for any reason we gotta keep this place and you secret”Monger said

“How long will I have to be here?" I demanded “How long will you keep this little game of yours up?Another day?week?Month or a year?”I said desperately as tried to come to terms with his previous sentence

“Forever” Monger said cooly and calmly and landed his jetpack and turned it off and walked towards me

“After all the military is expert at covering up and creating misinformations to fill in the gaps…If it is necessary that is…after all most think the Easter Bunny is a fable.”He explained

“So…I'm just gonna rot here for always and always and always, for doing nothing wrong?”I said “In fact a lot of these other creatures are too!And they arent all that bad”

“Well,I wouldn't say so”!Monger said

“But they're innocent!”I told Monger in a defiant tone!

“Innocent eh?”Monger said

“Actually most if not all are guilty. Each of them went on a rampage,caused destruction,were a danger to society and possibly even killed people intentionally or not!Grubzilla has the highest damage and death count by far and while he didnt mean to destroy part of Tokyo ,he is still a hazard and a big one at that!Link went on a rampage and kidnapped many innocent women and killed a several men who were trying to stop him from getting the girl.”

"And Beastman killed several people too,no wonder he gave himself up as he realized he couldn't control himself at night in the slightest.And wisely saw this as the correct choice"

"And that Blob, while he can only eat inorganic matter he still eat through a few city blocks caused property damage several people were injured and he imperiled many innocent lives!If You are in any doubt we have the M-Files for it and even if not convinced then we even have footage of there rampages!"

“But I didn't go on a rampage!”I protested,I WAS IN THE RIGHT!I didn't Kill anyone,I didn't intentionally become a giantess,or intentionally cause any trouble .Im Innocent .I'm supposed to be free!

“True!But you must understand that you did cause some havoc though unintentionally as well as being well…a giantess,I'm sorry but you were just too dangerous to be around,that and we need to keep myths hidden and Giants aren't exactly easy to hide or cover up.And If you would be free many would panic and possibly even try to kill you. And also we have agreements for cover-ups for a reason you know for your benefit and societies at large”Monger said

“How did you even think you'll cover me up?And all these creatures and their actions as well?”I said trying to get him off his arguments though he did plant a seed of doubt in my head with his proclamations

“Well Link was actually “revealed” to be an actor in a suit who was part of a movie production and the whole thing including the footage was brushed off as a publicity stunt.The Wolf-man was just a gag of several teeagers who had a suit and scared people with it.”

“Bob was just called a lab explosion which caused the damage and some of the gasses escaping from it ,caused people to hallucinate.”

He finished his long speech with “I Could go on but you get the point.”

“But you can't just expect people to unsee me!There were many by me and I wouldn't be surprised if photos or videos were taken of it!You just can't tell them to unsee that!And you can't just do as if I never existed!”I said to try and fight against all of his statements.

“True,but we can give “explanations” and “reveal the truth to the public”.As for those who saw you we just advised them to not talk about it,besides no one would believe them.And those Photos were destroyed and while a video of it was leaked by someone at the wedding and shown on a Mystery channel we quickly disavowed its legitimacy.We said that it was actually done as a parody of monster movie made by some students in Modesto and sent there actually to promote their film efforts”

So…I really was alone asking if my parents or friends would visit would obviously be fruitless so I asked for the last remaining thing

“Can I at the very least call my parents or write to them?”I said holding on to a last string of hope for some,any contact

“That is not an option,there is a risk of an information leak”Monger continued in a stoic voice cutting off the last thread of hope

“EVEN A SERIAL KILLER HAS THE RIGHT TO THAT!”I screamed in rage,I was infuriated,I screamed so loud that some glass from some of the observatories cracked and broke.

Monger gave me a disapproving look which then turned into one which looked more like disappointment.

“I am sorry”He said

And with that he walked away…

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So I contemplated the whole situation while some know the videos are taken as fake and anyone in Modesto who saw me would be discouraged and my parents couldn't do anything.I was…On my own.

I sat down and cuddled myself into a ball into one corner.I could feel tears slowly forming in my eyes.

“Cmon Susan”I said to myself “Get up and face it.It aint all bad!”I had to push through it.No more crying now!I thought that maybe what he told me were lies…fat chance!

So here I am in my dimly lit room,not long after the lights went out and the room plunged into darkness.I went down and started to cry again,I curled up into a ball and eventually stopped crying.I tried to make myself happy.

I tried to still dream about the happy days, the days of being NORMAL!Those days have to be back.

Then I thought about the test they conducted on me and those surveys of my body.There still is hope!The scientists were working out to find out what happened to me,and if they did they could cure me and everything could be just Honky Dory again…

“But…if they're trying to figure me out ,there must be more to it”I thought to myself.If they figured out how I work,what would stop them from making their own giants?I thought to myself. So I have two outcomes…and both bad…and even if they cure me, who knows how long…will Derek still be waiting for me?

That night I had a nightmare, giants destroying city blocks crushing innocent people causing war,death,famine and plagues…well ok maybe not plagues but still…..all this…and then I saw myself being pointed at by the victims in what was left of Modesto“You……you did this”One said “No wait I didn't mean to I”I tried to defend myself and those victims...they were my friends and "choke"family! “You…did this to us”Another one said. “This was all your fault,If it were not for you we wouldn't have lost everyone we knew,our homes and suffered greatly under all of this”

“MONSTER!MONSTER!MONSTER!”My former bes friends chanted while pointing at me in the ruins of my hometown."Wait Im sorry!I never wanted this.

Then I saw that they brought to me Derek…he was dead and they said “He Died because of you,”I looked at Derek…his starry eyes still looking outward as if searching for me,never to see me again in this barren wasteland.

“DEREK?DEREK!DEREK!”I cried out,Clutching his body,we would be forever separated husband and wife.Then I cried out “NOOOOO!!!!!”

With a shock I woke up and looked around just to make sure I was still here.

“Oh,It was only a bad dream”I said in relief, resting myself and giving a large sigh of relief,everything calmed down and was quite save for my breathing,I then thought back to the experiments,what happened in the dream could become maybe one day a sad reality.

I really have to get out of here.

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

Firstly the end was done as a nightmare (So if it doesn't make sense or have contrivances i did it intentionally to boil it down to her worst fears and pains coming to get her,after all dreams(and nightmares) have no limitations and can really show us thing we cant see)

The Next Parts will be different:There lenghts may vary due to what part of the story thell tell and I will change the POV character too to give us more insight and characterisation of these characters(I am working on several chapters at once to make better connections between the stories and to plan ahead so sorry for the delays im working on it still)

I made this fake-out opening just because i thought that the monsters should watch something in there spare time(also yes Earth vs the Flying Saucers is a real film I had on dvd and though quoting it would make the opening more interesting…and those 5 percent are most likely the guardians and other such magical beings)

The Reason Wasps found Jaromir was because some babyteeth in the area were sent to look for him and managed to know exactly where he was heading and then telling tooth who told Wasp who were ready and waiting for him.

Description

She is human like in body and size,but with some difference like her scaly-green skin,her pointy ears(not to cartoonish proportions tough still)she also has violet hair and two of her teeth can be retractable between normal and sharp. It is stated in mythology are ruled by the smartest and strongest of them.Like she is motivated by greed.There are several breeds some may be nearly elf like and only live a few decades while others like herself are humanoid and are far more powerful and itelligent.For she can be stabbed right through and only have it as a slight flesh wound.She also has some weaponry like a flying broomstick like thingy.Like all she has the ability to see in darkness.While many say shes crazy its just one of her ploys to incite fear to her enemies.

While in myth they were all seen the same, some types(like hers)are considerably intelligent,despite being almost always portrayed as being ugly and dimwitted.

Fun Fact

The Guardians had to assemble to take her down,while she threatend to attack the world above.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Prompt idea: Geralt gets a contract for a monster that has been sighted nearby. When he tracks it down, he is surprised to find mothman!Jaskier who (much like actual mothman) has an ass that won’t quit.

?

I just want you to know that Mothskier now lives in my head rent free 24/7. I love him. I would die for him. This is my new favorite emotional support au.

2k-ish words - please feel free to shove comments through the bars of my enclosure, I would really like that

art by the ever-wonderful @mawbwehownets, whose drawing of Mothskier made me legit cry.

tw: mild injury, brief blood mention, strangers to lovers

---

“So what you’re saying,” Geralt raises an eyebrow slowly, curious, “Is that you need me to catch a monster that’s half man and half moth?”

“Yup.”

“Alright,” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger. The frustrated Witcher takes a slow breath to calm and center himself, before he ends up botching the entire contract-writing process. Humans tend to grow attached to the strangest monsters sometimes, and apparently this mysterious local being was no different. “Let me get this totally straight, so there are no mistakes or misunderstandings. You want me to capture this man-moth and get it out of your woods, but you don’t want me to kill it?”

“He’s called the Mothman, and he’s pretty damn stubborn about sticking around,” the aging farmer corrects Geralt with a little frown. Then his expression shifts and he smiles in a way that seems almost apologetic. “We were hoping you could find a way to relocate him without hurting or killing him, Master Witcher.”

“That’s completely possible, if he isn’t attached to this specific patch trees by any magical or biological means. You said his natural habitat is just… the forest?”

“As long as there's an abundance of pine around he seems pretty happy. Before he came to live with us, Mothman lived in a heavily forested area up the coast; or at least that’s what the historical records and local mythology seem to indicate.”

“That’s actually pretty helpful information to have on hand, I’m impressed,” Geralt nods. “Alright, Mr. Stevens. I promise to relocate the poor thing without killing or maiming him, and I’ll be sure to take him somewhere far enough away that your crops won’t be in danger. Thanks for calling me first instead of just going straight to an extermination service.”

“Honestly, Master Witcher,” the farmer sighs and readjusts his dirty baseball hat, “If it weren’t for the mischief he’s been getting into lately, we would have let him stick around until spring. I hate to admit it to a man as strong and stern-faced as yourself, but the poor creature is almost… adorable at times.”

“Well that’s a first,” Geralt chuckles, honestly amused by the situation he’s found himself in. “A monster being referred to as ‘adorable’ rather than ‘terrifying’. I’ve never heard such a thing in my many years of life.”

“Then you’d better prepare yourself, Sir Geralt. He’s got a pair of big blue puppy-dog eyes that’ll knock you on your ass if you aren’t careful. And that’s coming from a man who raised three daughters with dimples.”

“Hmm. Fuck.”

---

Geralt knows enough about moths to come up with a plan he thinks will work.

Before he heads into the woods to find and capture the poor wandering creature, the Witcher takes a detour through the lighting section of the nearest Lowe’s.

---

Unfortunately for Geralt, the farmer was right about the power of Mothman’s puppy dog eyes, which are big and blue and begin to water as soon as the Witcher’s net knocks him to the ground. The creature lies in a whimpering tangle of limbs beneath the heavy, magically enhanced restraints. Geralt takes an opportunity to look at what the locals called "a cryptid".

Mothman has a long, lithe body that's covered in a light layer of grey-brown fur, but his hair resembles that of a human’s, falling over those enormous blue eyes in a lovely chestnut fringe. When Mothman sees the swords on Geralt’s back he cries out in panicked recognition and tries to pull his arms up far enough to shield his face. The lamp Geralt used to lure him into the clearing is still bathing him in a pool of yellow light; it’s almost pretty for a monster, Geralt notes.

As the Witcher takes a step forward, the cryptid squeaks and buries his face against his own shoulder. His entire frame is trembling.

“Hey there, shhhhh,” the Witcher murmurs quietly. He drops into a squat and holds both hands up to show Mothman that they’re weapon free. Tears are now falling freely down the creature’s surprisingly human face; whoever or whatever this is, they are likely some kind of Fae. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to get you back through the veil.”

“Liar,” Mothman huffs. His voice has a surprisingly musical quality to it and Geralt is now sure of his Fae parentage (or grand-parentage).

“I promise I’m not lying,” Geralt reassures him, slowly crawling forward. When he reaches for the nearest corner of the net, he feels all of Mothman’s muscles go tense. “I’m going to lift this up and I am going to restrain you, but I swear that I’m not going to kill you. I wish to cause as little distress as possible. Is that alright, Mothman?”

The creature hisses and yanks his foot back away from where Geralt’s hand had nearly touched it. “Jaskier.”

“Hmm?” Geralt glances up, raising an eyebrow.

“My name is Jaskier,” the Fae repeats, glaring up from between the sections of woven rope that make up the heavy net. “Not Mothman.”

“My apologies, Jaskier,” Geralt bows his head. He words his introduction carefully, in case this thing can manipulate his name like others of his kind: “You may refer to me as Geralt.”

“That’s your real name,” Jaskier states. The Witcher’s head snaps up.

“How did you know?”

“Hmm,” Jaskier sticks his tongue out as he mimics the sound Geralt made earlier. “Not telli-AH! Stop! Oh go- gods, stop! Please!”

Geralt drops the short section of rope he’s trying untangle from around Jaskier’s ankle and snaps his eyes upwards, already searching for damage. “What’s wrong!?”

“My wing!” Jaskier bawls. His scent spikes out through the clearing, sharp with panic and pain. The creature’s chest begins to shake more violently than before, his shoulders shuddering with the rising force of his sobs, “It’s t-t-torn! Oh gods, my wing! Sir Witcher, p-please!”

Geralt freezes, his gaze settling on the torn section of Jaskier’s large, furry wing. It’s a nasty wound near one of the joints, a faint trickle of barely-luminescent blood has already dried around the edges. Jaskier tries to flutter it a little and screams in agony when the muscles shift too suddenly, shrilly enough that Geralt needs to cover his hypersensitive ears. The Witcher's heart crashes down into his boots; based on the way the shivering Fae has gone pale and silent, the pain is too much for him to process. He’s gone into shock.

A torn wing is exactly the kind of thing Geralt had promised the farmer (and the collective of townspeople he represented) wouldn’t happen to the peaceful moth creature if they hired a Witcher instead of an exterminator. He sighs and gives the strange being another once-over. “Everything's alright, Jaskier. You’re going to be alright. I’m so, so sorry that you've been wounded. We’ll get you out of this net and get you something for the pain, but it’s going to hurt a little to untangle you. Stay still, don’t struggle, and it’ll be over soon.”

“J-Just kill me,” Jaskier pants. He’s continuing to hyperventilate and Geralt needs him to calm down before he passes out. The Fae reaches a hand for the dagger at Geralt's waist and the Witcher twists out of reach with a frown. Jaskier sobs again, fingers still seeking, “I might n-n-never fly a-again so just k-kill me!”

“Breathe with me, Jaskier,” the Witcher instructs, forgoing patience and cutting through the net with that same dagger. He scoops Jaskier up into his arms, ignoring the keening sound at the back of Jaskier’s throat when his wing is jostled, and rushes the Fae to his truck, tucking him into the passenger’s seat and wrapping him in a large, fluffy blanket. “I’m taking you to my friend. She’s an expert at healing magical creatures and I'm certain that she'll get your wing fixed in no time.”

Jaskier doesn’t give an answer. When Geralt looks up into the creature’s face again, the injured Fae has already passed out.

---

Jaskier moves with all the grace of a newborn foal as he explores the room Geralt has provided for him. His wing has been inspected, treated, and bandaged by a rather scary sorceress named Yennefer, who glared at the Witcher the entire time she was caring for him. She had also taken one of Geralt’s old t-shirts and cut an enormous hole in the back for Jaskier’s wings to fit through. The shirt’s bottom hem falls to the middle of his thighs and the thick black material is softer than anything he’d ever felt before.

He hears a knock on the door and calls out, “It’s open!”

Geralt enters slowly, bearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a mug of tea. “I brought you some last minute supplies and - uh… I brought you some tea. Yen always likes some before she goes to sleep and I figured since this was a new place and new places can be scary that I should-”

“Thank you,” Jaskier interrupts, smiling shyly. His antennae twitch happily as he takes the offerings from Geralt's hands and the Witcher watches them with wide eyes. Jaskier carefully sets the pajamas and the tea on the nightstand before turning back to look at Geralt. “I will… see you tomorrow?”

Geralt gives one sharp nod. “Hmm.”

“Goodnight,” Jaskier sing-songs, taking a seat on the edge of the bed as Geralt exits.

From the other side of the closed door, Jaskier’s superior hearing picks up the Witcher’s final whisper: “Goodnight, Jaskier. I will always be sorry for causing you pain.”

The next morning he meets Geralt at the breakfast table, refreshed and ready to learn about the human world. He’s summoned a glamour in order to hide his more Moth-like traits, the only things that remain of his true nature are his wings and antennae; his fur is gone and he’s dressed in a pair of sweatpants and that same old shirt. The Witcher offers him a bowl of fruit and mug of something sweet-smelling. Jaskier glares into the mug with a slight pout to his lips before finally asking, “What is this?”

“Hot chocolate.”

Jaskier takes a sip and his antennae flutter, twitching happily as he swallows the best drink he’s ever had in his long life. He eats a strawberry from the bowl and slowly works his way through the hot chocolate, eyeing Geralt warily as the Witcher moves through the familiar kitchen to make his own breakfast.

“Where is Yennefer?”

“She went home,” Geralt shrugs.

“She isn’t your mate?”

“N-No,” Geralt sputters, turning to stare at the nervous young Fae. “Why would you think that?”

“You smell like each other.”

“We spend a lot of time together,” Geralt shrugs again. “Good friends, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier mimics his host for a second time. Rather effectively by the annoyed twitch at the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Just wondering.”

“Anything else you’re curious about?”

“Why don’t you have more lights?”

“Huh?”

“Lights,” Jaskier gestures around the minimalistic layout of Geralt’s open-concept kitchen/living room and its distinctive lack of lamps. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans forward against the dark marble countertop. The pout has gone from 'slight' to 'full-bore' and Geralt is clinging desperately to his braincell with how cute it looks. “It’s no fun.”

“You really like lamps, don’t you?” the Witcher replies, mouth dry. Jaskier huffs and takes another sip of his hot chocolate, antennae flickering back and forth in irritation. Geralt bites his lip to hide a smile; it’s too fucking cute, which is an odd thought for a Witcher to have.

“So what if I do enjoy a nice lamp or five in my living space?” Jaskier argues. "I'm a Moth of taste."

“No matter,” Geralt laughs quietly. “Finish your drink before it gets cold.”

---

Jaskier stays with Geralt for a few weeks while his wing heals, and for a creature whose sole interest seems to be fancy light fixtures, the Fae becomes a source of light in Geralt's own world. They go to a nonhuman friendly second-hand store to find Jaskier some more clothes and Geralt discovers the cryptid's love for oddly patterned shirts in bright colors. Jaskier chooses several to fill out his closet, as well as a sweater two-sizes too large in deep black (Geralt tries his best not to attach any meaning to this choice), a few pairs of pants, and a jean jacket that he declares, "Can be altered."

They watch movies together and make food together - Jaskier is always incredibly impressed by the way the automatic coffee maker works, and how easily Geralt can control the flames of the stove. Jaskier also follows the Witcher along on less dangerous hunts and helps bandage him up after worse ones, always there with a smile and a little kiss over the cleaned-up wound.

“It really is magic,” Jaskier always insists, lips pink and shining from licking them as he concentrates. "It makes you heal faster."

Geralt realizes one night - two weeks into Jaskier’s stay, as he leans against the doorframe and watches the strange creature’s even breathing - that he has gone and done the stupidest thing a Witcher can do: fall in love with a pretty, temperamental young Fae. Head over fuckin’ heels, actually.

So he makes a decision.

---

The next evening, after the dinner dishes have been cleaned and put away, Geralt herds Jaskier down the hall to the guest room. Those entrancing blue eyes blink up at him in obvious confusion. “Bedtime already?”

“No, not quite. I just- I made you… uh…”

“Do you have a surprise for me?” Jaskier asks, used to the Witcher's issues with verbalizing.

Geralt nods, relieved and thankful for the Fae’s steadfast understanding. “Do you want to cover your eyes or should I just open the door and show you?”

“I’ll close my eyes,” Jaskier smiles, covering his eyes with both hands. Geralt finds it adorable, as Jaskier always is, and allows himself a matching grin as he swings the door open. The ceiling light is off but Geralt has built a blanket fort at the center of the room and surrounded it with fairy lights of all colors and sizes. Inside the blanket fort is a mass of blankets and pillows; Jaskier has the odd habit of building nests - Geralt jokingly calls them cocoons - and sleeping in those on the floor instead of on the very comfortable mattress the Witcher has provided.

“Open them,” Geralt urges.

Jaskier pulls his hands away and Geralt watches as his pupils go huge and wide. Jaskier's face breaks out in the sunniest, most blindingly happy smile Geralt has ever seen. He turns and throws his arms around the Witcher, his wings fluttering behind him and his antennae twitching and flicking above his head. He tries desperately to speak but only manages a half-snuffled little “I’m-” before bursting into tears of joy.

Geralt just holds him, letting his arms fold carefully around Jaskier’s waist, just beneath his wings.

"I just wanted you to know that, if you wanted to stay, there would be room for you. Your room, if you want it."

"I do," Jaskier smiles, burying his face in the Witcher's neck. "I'd love to stay. I'd love nothing more than to spend my days going on adventures with you."

"Well then," Geralt gathers all of his courage and presses a soft kiss to the crown of Jaskier's head. He's met with happy spasms from the antennae so he does it again. And again. Moving from the top of the Fae's head to his cheeks and then his mouth - pretty and pink and pouting and so worth the trouble. "I suppose we can get started on our next adventure tomorrow."

[simplyahoe]

Hello hello! I just recently followed you and saw your post about not getting many requests or interactions, so I'm here to change that!! 💪🏻

If you feel like writing this, may I request some cute fluff of Enmu X female!demon!reader? Just something cuddly and sweet with extra fluff, like spending some quality time snuggled together after a successful hunt, or whatever other sweet passtimes that come to your mind really!

I hope you have an amazing day, and may the Tumblr fairy bless you with many requests and reblogs! 🧚‍��️✨

Angel from above! I’m surprised you were willing to humor my 0 sleep 3 spoons of sugar in coffee rambles🤣. This is a very cute one

I do like doing fluff, despite my many brutally painful stuff and the not safe stuff, so it is a nice change of pace and a good break before I get more into the Yandere Reader thing

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Little Sheep

Enmu x Demon Fem Reader

w : cheesy comments, referenced body worship, reference to gore

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Demons are normally not allowed to stay together in groups, but Enmu somehow managed to get permission to stay with you. Well more like permission for you to stay with him.

You don’t exactly remember if he turned you into a demon or if you got turned by someone else, but frankly you don��t really care. As long as you two can stay together, you are happy.

You don’t exactly remember if he turned you into a demon or if you got turned by someone else, but frankly you don’t really care. He makes you feel fluffy inside so as long as you two can stay together, you are happy.

When the inevitable hunt starts, you two fight back to back. Enmu rather loves how far you take it, fighting next to you instead of using his demon blood art.

He loves seeing you flit across the field claws at the ready, slaughtering anyone in your way. And the complements he throws says as much

“Just like a goddess fighting against their enemies. How beautiful!”

When everyone is dead, you guys are finally able to calm down and continue the date. Luckily he brought a blanket before all of that went down.

Makeshift picnic while soaked in blood, anyone?

Eating good food while he playfully flings the cheesiest pickup lines in the century under the moonlight. It’s like a dream and he will tell you as much.

“The sky is beautiful tonight”

“Not as beautiful as the sweet dream I’m looking at as of now”

“Enmu!”

Cuddling under the stars until you feel gross from the blood, it happens often. That’s why he always chooses locations near natural hot springs or bodies of water.

Bathing together sounds wonderful to him. A chance to see your naked body and fall deeper in love with you. But he does over exaggerate.

Ok.

Over exaggerate is an understatement

“Ohhhh, you are so beautiful, I should pluck out my eyes. Such divine beauty is not meant for mortal eyes like mine!”

Praises fall from his lips as he worships your body. You splash him from embarrassment and he splashes you back, and that is how you two end up playing in the water.

It somehow always ends up with him in your lap cuddling in the water. It doesn’t matter to him about your height, he is going to be in your lap. Laughing happily, kissing, and nuzzling each other.

Arms wrapped around your waist as he looks at you with adoring eyes. He lives for your kisses. Even if you aren’t one for kisses or physical touch, like hugs, he will ask for some every so often.

“Little lamb? Can I get a hug?”

He loves it when you leave marks like lipstick or chapstick stains. In fact, he insists that you put his chapstick on by kissing him.

When day inevitably comes, you two go to the house he bought for the occasion of cuddling with you. Curled up into each other with warm blankets piled on top of you and the plushest of plush bedding and pillows under, he lulls you to sleep.

Even if you don’t need sleep, he still like to watch you sleep. Enmu will change what you dream of and watch you giggle and play in the dream’s sun rays. Safe from the actual sun, but able to feel the warmth of it again.

Safe

Safe in his arms

“Sweet dreams my little sheep”

[amor-immortalem]

Friends (With Benefits)

Minors DNI

A/N: Fair warning this is a mammonxoc smut-not a very good one but its a smut nonetheless- because its just that kinda day... It’s not the first one I’ve written but it’s the first one I’ve ever posted that hasn’t been part of a role play so... yeah. Do with that info what you will...

I'm not participating in kinktober but since its that time of year I figured eh why the hell not. Now, if you excuse me. I need some water.

Also I’m doing that 48hr post+ protest so any comments questions or concerns will be heard on the 4th.

Warning(s)?: unprotected sex, oral sex (Female receiving) size kink (if you squint)

Gods she needed to get off. She’d been down here on the exchange programme for about six months at this point and yeah, Asmodeus made it a point to make sure she had plenty of quality toys at her disposal for the year, but it just wasn’t as satisfying as the real thing. Not to mention, she never had a moment’s peace in this god-forsaken house to begin with. It was common place for Arella to come home to Mammon or one of his brothers making themselves at home here in her room or just barging in whenever they felt like it- no better way to kill the mood than getting walked in on by one of her housemates.

In fact, that’s the case today. Arella had come home a little earlier than the others due to them being stuck for a student council meeting for the express purpose of having some privacy and time to relieve her frustrations without risking the chance that one of those pesky demons would interrupt her. Of course, that wasn’t the case for her as waiting on her bed was the Avatar of Greed himself scrolling through his phone like it was no big deal- dressed in only a pair of grey sweat pants because of course he would be.

It was a nice view though. Despite Mammon’s frustrating hot-’n-cold attitude sometimes, he always is pleasing to look at and now in her desire-addled mind, Arella finds herself scanning over his form as her eyes drift lower and lower until...

“Ya gonna just stand there or...?” Mammon calls, not looking away from the screen of his phone.

Her face flushes at the notion that he’s caught her eyeing him up like a piece a meat. “Why’re you in here, Mammon? Surely, you have better things to do since you’re always so busy.”

“Well yeah, naturally, I’ve always got shit ta do but I said we were gonna do movie night after school today so...”

“Can you give me a few hours, please? I... have to take care of something.” Arella sighs when the demon makes no effort to leave but rather shifts a little to the point that the material of his pants leaves astoundingly little to the imagination.

She audibly swallows, trying so hard not to stare. Arella has to look away, her face an impossibly bright shade of red as her mind starts to wander into the gutter. She could always order him away with the pact but she always did hate using it unnecessarily. It’s not until she sees the smirk on his face that she knows he’s fucking with her.

“What’s so important that I can’t be here, huh?” Mammon drops his phone on the bed beside him.

“That smirk on your face tells me you know exactly why.” The human glares at him.

“Yeah ‘n that’s why ‘m not goin’,” The Avatar of Greed laughs, “Yer jus’ gonna have to suffer, Princess.”

“You are absolutely horrible, you know that?” Arella sighs in frustration. “C’mon, Mammon, just go, please. Unlike you, who has the luxury of going out to find a partner when you need to get laid, I can’t for risk that they’ll eat me afterwards so I have to take care of myself when it comes to that.”

“You could always just ask me to help ya...” The demon suggests. “Ever heard of the term ‘friends with benefits’?”

“Huh- Wha- I – Of course, I’ve heard of the term!” She crosses her arms as she huffs. “But friends with benefits only works when both parties don’t run the risk of catching feelings. And you strike me as the type who does.”

“What? No. Couldn’t be me.” The demon rolls his eyes as he looks away, “’sides you’d be doin’ me a favor too and ya can’t tell me that yer not even a little curious about what I’m like in bed. I heard ya this morning. Moanin’ my name and beggin’ me for more.” A smug smirk paints itself on his face as he gets up, approaching her, walking her back until she’s trapped between him and the wall. “Well? Ya got your chance with The Great Mammon now... ya gonna take it or blow it?”

Arella bites her lip as she mulls it over. It wasn’t like he was wrong. She did fantasize about him more than she should for someone who she considers a friend. “Fuck it,” she murmurs as she surges forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss as she pushes him back towards her bed.

If the need wasn’t so urgent, she’d take her time with Mammon, but honestly, going for six months without any chance for release when she was used to being able to have it whenever only made her more desperate to find it now. Her hands traveled all along the demon’s body as she straddled his hips. She let out a soft moan as he shoved his tongue in her mouth and he rolled them over, grinding his hips against hers. He broke their kiss only to trail them down to her neck where he nibbled and sucked little love bites into the delicate skin on her neck.

Arella’s fingers carded through his snowy hair as she panted, head tilting to the side as he moved, his hands coming up work on unbuttoning her unform shirt, tossing it to the side once it was off. He wasn’t so gentle with her bra, choosing to rip it off and toss it away as if the article of clothing had offended him somehow.

“Mammon!” she gasped as she watched it go.

“What? Ya got a hundred more where that came from. If it’s that big a deal I’ll by ya a new one.” the greedy demon growls as he trails his lips down her chest, taking one of her nipples into his mouth and sucking as his fingers pinched and rolled the other one. Every once and a while he would lightly nip at her before circling it with his tongue. Arella would only tug at his hair impatiently signaling him to get on with it as he chuckled. “Here, get these wet for me.”

He prods her lips with his fingers and she takes them in her mouth, sucking and swirling her tongue around them as he pushed them in further to the point that she was nearly gagging on them as he works on ridding her of her skirt and panties. As they slid down her legs, he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her inner thighs, withdrawing his fingers from her mouth and tracing them down her stomach. He let his warm breath tease for a bit as she tried to rock her hips to spur him to action.

“Impatient, ain’t ya, Baby?” He chuckled, “Just hold still, you’ll get what ya want.”

“If you’d stop teasing, maybe I would,” she pouts, just wanting to feel him where she needed it most.

“As you wish, Princess.” The demon smirks as he spreads her open and licks a stripe from her opening to her clit and she could almost cry at how good it feels when he starts to gently suckle on the sensitive nub.

“Fuuuck, yes, right there,” She gasps at the feeling of his mouth on her and the prodding of one of his long fingers at her opening followed soon by a second. “Don’t stop...”

Her head tips back as she lets a pleasured sigh fall from her mouth, her hand coming down to knot itself in Mammon’s fleecy white hair to push him closer, drawing a moan from the demon. He has her dangerously close to the edge of oblivion without having even done much of anything.

“I’m so close, Baby, keep going.” she rocks her hips to match pace of his fingers before he pulls them away only to replace them with his tongue and she lets out a frantic cry as she feels the wet muscle work its way against her walls while his thumb rubbed tight circles around her clit.

“Don’t hold back. Let me have it.” He growls out as he returns to his ministrations and she absolutely loses it, body going tense as she lets out a strangled moan and she clenches around his tongue as she cries out his name.

The demon cleans her up as he helps her ride out her high before pulling away, making a show of licking his lips as he crawls his way back up her body. He leans down for another kiss and Arella moans at how she can taste herself on his lips and tongue. She used her knee to brush against his crotch listening to the beautiful groan he lets out at the sensation.

“Get those off,” The human says in reference to his sweat pants that now have a large stain of pre covering the front. “You need more or are you good to go right away?”

“Nah, I’m good.” He pushes himself up on his knees and slowly rids himself of his sweat pants allowing his cock to spring up, slapping against his belly.

Her jaw drops at the sight of him. She knew he was big- but damn. He absolutely would tear her apart if they we’re careful- and are those piercings? She can feel her mouth start to water as she looks up at him to see the predatory look in his eyes that were now a shining gold.

“That shut ya up real fast, didn’t it?” He chuckled as he lined himself up. “You ready or do you need a minute?”

“No, I’m fine.” A determined look crossed her eyes. “I’m more than ready.”

“Got a safe word?”

“Just use the traffic light system.” She hooks a leg over his hips to bring him closer. “I want this.”

The stretch she feels as Mammon enters her is as delicious as it is painful even with him taking breaks to let her adjust. Once he’s fully seated, he keeps still as she takes a moment to savor it. With a nod from her, he begins to rock his hips gently, upping his pace as he draws more moans and gasps and the occasional whine from his human. Soon he’s pounding into her as he slips into his demon form.

Her hands are at his back, digging into the skin near the base of his wings and scratching angry red lines down his back. She’s so tight around him that it’s intoxicating to the demon as he lets out a growl. He can feel her next climax is imminent by the way her walls are clenching and gripping him and the breathy pitchy cries of his name- by the way her eyes are nearly rolled back into her head as he pulls her legs up over his hips to hit deeper. The pleasure is overwhelming as his piercings drag along her walls and she cums for the second time that afternoon.

He slows his pace in consideration of the human but he never stops all together. As she starts to squirm from the overstimulation, Mammon holds her still.

“What’s your color, Baby?”

“Green,” Arella looks up at him and pulls him back down by the horns for a tongue filled kiss as he picks his pace back up.

She ran her fingers against the curls of his horns as the demon goes back to biting and sucking on her neck as the only sounds that could be heard were the sounds of their moans, growls, and gasps and the sound of skin slapping against skin. “More! I need more, Mammon. Please.” She has tears slipping down her cheeks from the overstimulation. “It's so good... you’re so big...”

He growls as he hoists her legs up over his shoulders, nearly folding her in half as he thrust into her at a near animalistic pace hitting the deepest part of her as she cried for him. He was getting close to his release as he grasped her hand in his.

“Almost there... so close... Just keep squeezin’ me like that.”

“Me too!” Arella threw her head back, “Fuck, I’m so close. Cum inside.”

“Yer playin’ with fire, Princess. Ya really want that from me?”

“Yes! Yes!” Her grip on his hand tightened as she threw her head back. “Fill me up.”

He groaned as he felt her walls tighten once more as she hit her last release. “Shit... haah... fuck. I’m cumming!” Mammon buries his face in her neck as his thrusts falter. His cock twitches as he fills her with his seed until she’s overflowing with a mixture of their fluids.

They ride out their highs together, letting out soft groans and gasps as the demon pulls her legs down from his shoulders. They stare at each other as they try to catch their breath, wide-eyed, sweaty messes before bursting into a fit a laughter.

“I can’t believe we did that,” He sighs as he leans his forehead against hers.

“That was... amazing...” She sighs, “Best sex I’ve had ever had... I don’t know about you but I need a nap after we shower and change the sheets.”

“Yeah, I second that...” Mammon groans as he pulls out and rolls out of bed. “I’ll start the water; you just pull the sheets off.”

Arella only gave him a thumbs up as she sat up, feeling considerably better than she had before she’d gotten home from school.

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

Find more on my masterlist

[regrettablewritings]

Soulmate AU: The First Drawing You See From Your Soulmate is Tattooed on Your Skin

A detective having a tell would probably be considered inappropriate to most people. Detectives were supposed to read tells, not have them. But then again, Benoit had never been much for keeping up appearances. Besides, what was the harm in rubbing his thumb along his right wrist? It helped him focus; it helped him think.

Or at least, that was what he’d told himself. He wasn’t entirely lying, either, rather the larger whole of it all was more so that when he rubbed that spot on his skin, he felt calm. Composed. He liked to think that that was the feeling his soulmate had intended when they painted that image, whenever they made or would make it. Whatever it was. After all, it had plenty of blue in it.

He was pretty sure it was meant to be a pond or some kind of body of water; that might explain the blues and greens and maybe the bits of white that he could make out. And if he squinted his eyes a little, he could swear there were little flecks of gold. Goldfish, maybe? Honestly, he had no clue. Benoit wasn’t much for complaining or expressing a lack of gratefulness, but he couldn’t help but sometimes feel envious of those whose tattoos covered a larger part of their body. Not a massive amount, but at least just enough to be able to tell precisely what the heck their soulmate’s image was trying to portray. Clearly, the image was larger than what that patch of his skin could afford, and honest to God, he’d spent a good part of his life trying to make out what it was!

(The embarrassment of it all, he would sometimes muse deprecatingly: That the acclaimed “Last of the Gentlemen Sleuths” could solve the most absurd cases in the country, yet had spent most of his natural-born life completely stumped by what might as well have counted as a body part!)

And yet, Benoit could never stay frustrated about it; not when his thumb gently grazed against the image, imagining the smoothness of his skin ebbing into the aquatic swirls of the proposed water. But just for extra precaution, he saw no harm in distracting himself.

That afternoon’s distraction? A quick skim of the local paper, accompanied by a mug of hot tea. He tried not to think of how such a method revealed his age, instead snapping the paper open to a page discussing the local goings-on. It was the usual sort of content: The community theater’s spring production was seeking house crew members, a mom and pop-style restaurant was having an anniversary special . . . It was the same sort of thing Benoit had grown used to expecting.

But what his pale blue eyes landed on next didn’t make the rest pale by comparison -- it downright washed all else from existence: An art show.

Benoit considered himself a well-rounded person, but it was more so in an almost tongue in cheek sort of manner: As a detective, it was his job to be appropriately versed in an assortment of fields. However, a jack of all trades was never truly a master of none. Benoit’s experiences with art theft and forgeries had lent him a hand in only about as much observation as was necessary for the respective occurrences.

But . . . he knew those swirls. He knew that blue, those greens, that white -- he recognized how the gold was patterned! Sure, the cheap ink job of a colored newspaper picture might have dulled the quality ever so slightly but there was no mistake to be made: That painting was his. No . . . It was theirs!

You tried to make calming breaths without making your anxiety obvious. A nervous but otherwise acceptable smile twitched into place, fooling the guests as they wandered about the gallery. Or, at least, you certainly hoped it was fooling them; but it was probably all to be outdone by the fact that you’d been nursing the same champagne flute for the last half-hour.

Is this what “making it” feels like? you wondered. Because if it was . . . you weren’t too fond of it. You felt bad for not relishing this opportunity; the art world was highly competitive, and you were more than blessed to have had the chance to not only display your work in a showroom, but to have said room be dedicated entirely to your pieces. But in that blessing was also a curse: The curse of criticism, of weary eyes, of people both waiting to pounce on you with ribbings of how you lack the magnanimity of the classics or the free thinking of the contemporaries --

Shitshitshitsmile! You did as you were told -- both by your brain, and by your manager earlier when they walked you through how you were to compose yourself through this entire ordeal. Just smile, enunciate when spoken to, and let the potential schmoozing flow and oh god, that Karen-looking lady who definitely owns a house in Martha’s Vineyard for when she wants to get away from her husband for a day totally hated that piece you’d spent months working on, didn’t she?!

The thought made your stomach twist, your already awkward smile along with it. You inhaled sharply. You had to find something to distract yourself with. 

You turned and faced the painting nearest to you. Some might call it vanity, but you were actually quite pleased with this particular piece. That, and its blueness gave you a sense of . . . serenity. You imagined the ripples washing over you and into you, the scent and sound of the painted environment gently caressing your nose and drowning out both the stench of perfume and pretentious chattering . . . And also, apparently, the sound of approaching footsteps.

You hadn’t realized anyone had joined your side until the rumble of a southern baritone carded through the water.

“It’s gorgeous. Isn’t it?”

You hadn’t meant to jump and appear so clumsy.

“Oh, sh -- ” You cut yourself short as you eyed the droplets of spilled, room temperature champagne. If your manager found out that you had cussed around a potential buyer, they would’ve mounted your head on the wall. Thankfully, however, the stranger didn’t appear at all fazed. If anything, the chuckle he responded with sounded genuinely amused.

“Oh, my dear girl, I’m terribly sorry!” he insisted, holding up his left hand. “I didn’t mean to scare you; I can imagine most anyone would be mighty transfixed over a piece like this.”

You gulped as you looked up at your unintentional scarer. His eyes were the same blue as the one that brought you calm just moments earlier, yet they had the almost opposite effect to you now. As you looked into them, you didn’t feel calm; not necessarily: Instead, you felt your heart beginning to ripple the pattern of the painting, your cheeks burning as bright as the gold swirling amongst the little waves. And yet you found yourself transfixed by them, only offered freedom when the older gentleman offered you a hint of a smile. A warm one.

Crap! Uh -- Answer his question! Think of something to say! your mind scrambled.

“Uh . . .” you stammered. The only way to save what atoms of confidence you still had left was to turn your eyes back to the painting. “I -- I should hope so.” Smooth. You tried to remember your calming breaths. You heard the man hum, shifting his position ever so slightly in your peripheral.

“What can you tell me about it?” he asked, revealing just how close to you he truly was. You could feel the warmth of his person and the richness of his voice vibrating into you. Or perhaps it was butterflies? Maybe both? Well, whatever it was, it almost made you stumble over your words. You’d spent the entire evening up to that point rehearsing stories of your inspirations, recounting whatever education you had to people who probably didn’t give a crap.

But this instance was different: Maybe it was foolishness sourced from a sudden and sophomoric attraction, but you almost wanted to believe that perhaps this man genuinely cared. That he was genuinely interested in what you as the actual artist had to say and not you as some painting mannequin made to recite lines over and over.

The excitement of such a possibility broke through your nerves . . . and, unfortunately, right out of your mouth.

“I just really wanted to paint a mermaid in a mall coin fountain,” you admitted. You wanted to kick yourself. Up until that point, you’d been rather proud of your nifty little idea. But when you said it out loud, you sounded ridiculous! You could barely hide the reactionary wince, much less how your breathing hitched and hiccuped with nervousness. Just as soon as it had come, the hope that perhaps this man was different disappeared, leaving you awaiting his ridicule.

A ridicule that never came. Instead, there was quiet between the both of you. Perhaps he was at a loss for words?

“Mm,” he hummed, making you tense with expectation. You glanced at him just enough to see him nod, his blue eyes still focused on the canvas before him. “Go on . . .”

You blinked. Was he . . . for real?

“I . . . What more is there to say?” you wondered. The entire night, nobody had really asked for more on your part. They usually just took whatever purple prose you gave them and left it at that. Your initial assumption was right after all: This gentleman was cut from a different cloth from the lot.

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “What inspired this?”

“Oh, uh . . . Well . . .” Was it worth telling him? Aw, hell: you’d already made a bit of a fool of yourself being honest, so what harm was there in doing it some more? “I did it because I never saw anything about a mermaid that lived in a mall fountain, collecting the coins people toss in there.”

You didn’t even have a chance to worry about his criticism before the man’s features broke into a smile. It wasn’t like the others’ more courteous grins; this one reached his eyes, making their icy coolness warm and welcoming. You hated the cheesiness of it all, but for a very split second you wished that you could be a mermaid in them.

He chuckled once again. “Can’t say that I’ve ever seen anything concerning a coin-hoarding mermaid myself, let alone a professional art piece.” It was small, but the assurance made you offer your own smile.

“Well . . . But then maybe I have . . .” At that, your heart dropped. There it was: The anticipated criticism. He thought you were a hack after all: Uninspired, boorish, unskilled, whatever word there was to describe a person who didn’t know how to use a fan brush properly if any.

The wound stung as one so sudden should: Heavily and down to your core. You wanted the floor to open up and eat you whole. Or better yet: You wanted to climb into your apparently uninspired painting and drown in the mall fountain. But none of those could be an option, and neither was the possibility of hiding in the bathroom or an empty corridor. Instead, you had to put on a brave face and do your best to get through the moment.

“Oh?” you uttered. Your throat pained from the threat of anxiety. “Where do you suppose? I’ll admit, I’m not much into contemporary art so I don’t know the what’s what of what if you catch my drift.” You tried to weakly smile at your sad attempt for a joke. God, this so wasn’t what “making it” felt like.

But the man didn’t offer a courteous hint of laughter. Nor did he offer you a verbal response. Instead, he turned to face you. You did the same, even though you really didn’t want to. But it was the polite and expected thing to do when being confronted. Damn politeness and courteousness.

You weren’t sure how to respond when the man began to make work of his right sleeve, unbuttoning the cuff and beginning to roll the rest of it up. Your paranoia was unfortunately the first to respond due to your preexisting discomfort of the entire ordeal of an evening. You were just about prepared to scream, yelp, make any kind of distressed call -- only for it to trickle out into a gasp. An amazed exhale. The image the man presented to you on his wrist was small. Clearly, for it to be recognized for what it was, it needed a larger stretch of skin to belong to. But you knew what it was: You knew those swirls, the placements of those flecks of gold, those blues and greens surrounded by white.

For the umpteenth time that evening, your breathing changed. Only, you were pretty positive that none of your deep breathing would be necessary this time around; you would be more than happy to look at your painting on your soulmate’s skin for the rest of the night.

Epilogue:

“Mr. Blanc, please,” you insisted. “You’ve grown up with that thing on your arm, surely you’re bored with it by now. You can have your pick of the gallery. Hell, I’ll even make you something on request!”

Pickings hadn’t become slim, but the night had ended surprisingly successful. Well, surprising to you: You hadn’t expected anyone to buy anything of yours that evening, let alone six. You supposed that perhaps they just wanted to participate in the elitism brought on by owning newcomer art. Benoit, however, insisted that the buyers simply had functioning eyes. What a sweet-talker your soulmate was.

You watched as he shook his head stubbornly, eyes still fixated on the painting that adorned his wrist. He’d seen all the other remaining paintings, and even the ones that wound up selling by evening’s end. They were all gorgeous, he insisted, but . . .

“Benoit, if you will, Ms. (Y/N),” he corrected, apparently missing the irony. He gestured insistently at the composition. “And no. I . . . I truly would be quite satisfied with this one.” He heard you raspberry in defeat as you made your way back to his side, folding your arms in exasperation. 

“Seriously, though,” you sighed. “Is a painting of a mermaid dwelling in, like, a fountain you can find nearby an Auntie Anne’s really . . .” You waved a hand as if searching for the right word. “. . . Befitting? Of a detective’s abode? I was thinking more of a bucolic piece or like a portrait of some kind or . . .” You trailed off, only to be met with an amused huff.

“Some detective I am,” Benoit muttered. He broke his gaze back to you and placed his hands on his hips. “Took me well over a damn decade or two to learn what it even was. And only because you told me!”

[author-morgan]

Your work is so good, you should do this for a living! Your Ivarr stories are treasurers! Because quality Ivarr content that matches up exactly with my fantasies are rare, and I'm shit poet...

Could you please do one where the clan's dainty sweetheart secretly has the hots for Ivarr but avoids him because she doesn't know how to act around him.

He's also into her but thinks she hates him.

She gets terribly drunk for first time ever, throws herself at Ivarr...

Confused but also turned on, he internally struggles because doesn't want to take advantage of her.

He puts her to bed/or gets someone else to do it? Ubba? Because he doesn't trust himself to be alone with her?

Finds her when she's sober and not hungover, confronts her because drunken words are sober thoughts. She's embarrassed but they end up having really great sex!!!

i do write for a living, just not creative writing oh the joys of academia. apologies for the long wait, but here's more Ivarr! hope you enjoy! ♥ i kind of went overboard (like 3.3k words overboard) but it's Ivarr and i'm thirsty as hell for this bastard. Ivarr the Boneless x fem!Reader

EIVOR SHAKES HIS head. His arms crossed with a frown playing on his lips. He doesn’t see what you do —why of all the people in Midgard, you only have eyes for Ivarr the Boneless. Even Ubba would be a better choice, he thinks. It’s in Eivor’s nature to worry over and protect the ones he loves after all he’s lost. You are another example of Styrbjorn’s charity to those he considered friends, just as he is Sigurd’s brother in all but blood, you are their sister and have been for many years —becoming a temper for the two rowdy boys, favoring the healing arts over swordplay and battle.

Since Eivor’s initial meeting with Ivarr in Repton, there’s been something about his methods and outlook that sets Eivor at unease, even more so now that he’s caught Ivarr’s gaze lingering on you —like now during the autumn feast. Some jest, saying opposites attract, and while that seldom seems to be the truth, it is for you and Ivarr. He is cold iron, warm blood, a harsh winter —and you’re soft silks, a cool breeze, fresh spring blooms.

He’s seen the looks you share with Ivarr. Fleeting and flirtatious, but that is nigh all you share besides few rushed words in passing. Ivarr cuts an intimidating presence, and you’ve never been quite sure how to converse with warriors beyond your brothers. It’s nigh as difficult for Ivarr —all he knows is bloodlust and his fellow drengrs— finding the right words to say is not a battle he thinks he can win. There’s fondness between you, almost everyone can see it, but there are times when Ivarr is left to wonder if you truly like him or if your soft smiles and kind words are only a product of his reputation.

Ivarr’s feelings are clear to himself, though, especially as he watches you among the people of Ravensthorpe, partaking in the autumn festivities. Seeing you wear a crown of gold and amber leaves, dancing with Ceolbert to the drunken tune of Bragi and his tagelharpa with a tankard of Tekla’s mead in hand makes his heart beat faster, and his mouth go dry. He keeps to the benches, reminding himself that a drengr does not dance —at least not this type of dance.

The evening fades, but the festivities don’t. Soma claims her clan throws the best feasts, though you’re tempted to challenge the jarlskona for the title since Ravensthorpe has grown. You look around, searching for your brothers, but Sigurd has retired for the evening, and Eivor is slumped over on one of the tables, asleep —his hand still curled around the handle of his mead cup. Sighing, you find Ivarr’s gaze in the hazy air of the longhouse, half-shocked by the intensity and darkness, half-eager to return the lust-laden stare with your own.

Emboldened by the mead, you gather another horn and move across the longhouse where Ivarr sits. With a smile, you offer him the horn of mead before taking the empty spot on the bench next to him. He eyes you, curious, as he turns up the horn —downing the mead in a few gulps— and turns his attention to you. Spurred on by the moment, you lean closer, twisting to drape your legs across his thighs, squirming more than needed. “What game are you playing at, little dove?” Ivarr asks, his gaze dark and tone dangerous. You only smile, flitting your eyes up to meet his as you tip up your cup.

The soft plucking lyre strings and the low thrum of the tagelharpa are nigh enough to lull you to sleep coupled with the stillness. When you start to sway, both from the trance of the music and the heaviness of your eyes, Ivarr brings you closer to his side before deciding it best to see you off for the night —lest he is on the receiving end of Sigurd or Eivor’s anger. Ivarr pushes the bench back from the table, slipping his arms around your shoulders and beneath your knees, rising with you cradled in his arms —head resting on the leather of his shoulder pauldron.

When Ivarr places you on the straw and rag stuffed mattress of your cottage at the eastern edge of the settlement, you are not eager to part with him —the bulge tenting his britches tell you he’s not eager to leave you either. “Don’t” —you hiccup, lips turning into a pout as you lift the hem of your skirt to show the bare skin of your calves and beyond— “don’t you want me?”

Gods, Ivarr wants you. Just the thought of lying with you sets his blood hot and racing —like a giddy boy before his first battle. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted a woman more. But he can smell the mead on your breath and see the weariness hiding in your eyes. Ivarr knows it is the drink speaking for you, and he will not be the one to dishonor such a woman as you. “You’ve too much drink, little dove,” he chides in a rough chuckle, uncurling your fingers from their hold on his tunic. “Sleep,” Ivarr says, sitting back on his haunches —drinking in your appearance for a final time, “I doubt you’ll say the same thing come the morning.”

MORNING BREAKS AND so does your uneasy rest. The scent of smoke and mead clings to your skin and clothes, as does a dried sheen of sweat. Rising, you strip out of the soiled clothes and into a linen shift. With the hour still early and some only just retiring for bed from the feast, you gather up a cake of soap and boar-bristle brush, heading toward the small waterfall and pool at the northern edge of the settlement. Sparing a quick look around and now certain you’re alone, you strip, stepping into the clear, cool water with a sharp inhale.

Humming a soft song, you wring the suds from your hair and cross toward the bank where your clothes lay, but the snap of a branch underfoot stops you. Gaze darting around, you see him emerge from behind the trunk of a large tree near the stables. “Ivarr,” you greet, not shying away from his wandering gaze. His silence and the look in his eyes make you smile as you wade in his direction, stopping when the water brushes the underside of your breasts. “Are you watching me?” It’s a redundant question that needs no answer besides the hungry look in Ivarr the Boneless’s eyes.

“What you said last night–” he starts, voice surprisingly cautious, but you cut him off with a wave of a hand and scolding grin. “I was not that drunk, Ivarr.” Tekla’s mead had not dulled your senses, only gave you the courage to act on buried feelings. He lifts his brow and rakes his hand through his parted hair. “And yes. I meant it,” you tell him, wearing the same look now as you had last night nigh begging Ivarr to have his way with you. If Ivarr is surprised by the truth of your feelings, he hides it well. You motion to the pristine pool of water and bite down on your bottom lip before finding his gaze again. “Join me?”

Ties and buckles rustle as he hastily kicks away his boots, drops the fittings of his armor, and does away with his britches and tunic. Ivarr circles you like a wolf eyeing his wounded prey, and then he pounces, wrapping an arm around your middle, pulling your back flush against his chest. He leans forward, trailing his nose along your shoulder and neck —rough hands trailing up your sides and around to your breasts, squeezing them and teasing your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

When you gasp, he bites down on your shoulder and rocks his hips into your ass with a low chuckle. “You know who I am?” He means it as a warning —a warning of his bloodthirsty and unkind nature, that he is not a man to sing sweet songs or offer tender caresses. You already know that, having been privileged to witness Ivarr the Boneless in battle and know him outside of his craft.

“I do,” you answer, unwilling to shy away. He sucks in a sharp breath when you turn to face him, stepping closer and look up at him under lidded eyes with a wicked smile that sends blood rushing to his already half-hard cock. Careening toward Ivarr, you brush your lips across his jaw, settling one hand over the dark tattoo of Yggdrasil on his breast. “And if I wanted gentle,” you breathe at his ear, nipping at his neck, “I would fuck one of the Saxon monks.”

Ivarr laughs, grinning, but it falters when you reach below the water and squeeze his cock and balls, giving no doubt to your intentions or your wants. “Careful, little dove,” he hisses, tilting your chin up. He hunches, ashen hair half-falling before his face as he leans down and kisses you, warm, open-lipped, and intoxicating.

You pull back with a groan, and Ivarr chasing your lips, stopped only by your hands cupping his face —thumb tracing the deep scar on his cheek. “While giving the gods a show sounds delightful” —Ivarr’s lusty eyes take on a twinkle at the thought. Suddenly he’s picturing you splayed out on a Christian altar, spent from his love with his seed dripping from your cunt. His cock twitches, pressed tight against your belly— “Sigurd or Eivor finding us like this is less enticing.” Had it been anyone other than Ivarr, your brothers would have turned a blind eye, but neither have particularly liked the interest you and Ivarr show in one another.

Stepping back, you grip onto his wrist, staying his hands from their wandering assault, and pull him toward the waterfall and the small cave beyond. Before Ivarr has a chance to move again, you smile for him in the dim light, sliding an open hand to the nape of his neck, drawing him closer. With your lips pressed against his, Ivarr can only reciprocate —he parts your lips with his tongue, hands curling into your hips in a vice grip. But when the kiss breaks, you shimmy from his grasp and trail your lips to the dip in his neck —licking and laving.

“Having your lips on my skin is torture,” he inhales, hand fisting in your hair as you move down to the tattoo of Sleipnir at the center of his chest. You laugh softly and lean back, his eyes piercing through you. The smile on your lips is roguish, but you do not let up, making your way to his abdomen where a few small scars are clustered. Ivarr moans above you, and you haven’t even touched his aching, dripping cock yet. His hand reaches for your breasts, but you knock it away, having yearned for this moment for too long to let it slip away.

He titters at your enthusiasm and rolls his hips forward. Not dissuaded, you press your lips to the scar next to his navel, right below one of the dark runes tattooed on his abdomen. The hand still twined in your hair tightens, pushing you down to your knees. Ivarr’s legs are powerfully built, the muscles of his calves and thighs flex as you run your hand over them appreciatively, still finding small scars to trace and kisses, purposefully ignoring the hard cock pressed against his stomach. His hands clench as you kiss the skin of his thighs, your hair tickling the underside of his cock.

You smile at his surprised gasp when you drag the flat of your tongue along his cock, tracing along a vein running up the length of his shaft. Ivarr’s unable to hold back his groan when your fingers wrap around his girth, giving a few heavy strokes. And then, without warning, you wrap your lips around the head of his cock. He tastes of salt and iron and something forbidden and dangerous. Taking his cock as far as you can, you press your tongue against the underside, silently humming.

Above you, Ivarr chokes your name like a ragged prayer —it fills you with pride to know the son of Ragnar Lodbrok is coming apart at your hands and mouth, unable to say anything but your name. The lords of England may fear the whisper of his name, but right now, he is at your mercy.

Slowly, he begins to thrust himself into your mouth, but he makes no move to command your movements. Instead, his impatience wins over. He pulls you away from pleasuring him with your mouth. “Enough,” Ivarr says, his voice ragged as he crouches down, hand sliding from your hair and down to tweak one of your pebbled nipples, then lower still until he comes to the warmth between your thighs, slick with arousal. You whimper, gripping onto Ivarr’s shoulder when he pushes two fingers into your cunt, curling and thrusting. “On your knees, little dove,” he rasps. He warned you, and now he means to make good on his silent promise.

You struggle to gain your balance on the uneven ground of the small cave, but soon did, only to nigh lose it again when Ivarr slides the blunt head of his cock through your slick folds —thrice over before gripping onto your shoulder with one hand and guiding himself into your warmth with the other. Ivarr’s moan when he sinks inside you is breathless and airy, a misplaced sound from the likes of him. He grips you tight —one hand on your shoulder still, the other on your hip— holding your squirming body still as he eases his way into you. Your shoulders curl forward at the sudden wide spread of his cockhead into your body, fingers digging into the soft earth beneath you.

Ivarr pants against your shoulders —you can feel the open brush of his mouth along the sensitive skin of your spine and neck— as he draws his hips back and slams his cock back into you. You buck your hips back in time with his thrust, and Ivarr growls. You move with him as he fucks into you, squeezing with your inner muscles and whimpering in loud gasps. “Ivarr,” you chant, over-and-over.

He’s pounding hard immediately, giving in to the hunger that’s been consuming the both of you for far too long to be decent. His fingers are strong, streaking against your skin as his grip slides, something to discolor and bruise you by evening. But it feels so fucking good. You toss your head back, finding a glimpse of his face in this aching position with back arched, teeth shining in the low light, and eyes burning on you. He’s feral and ruined, and his fingers bend on your skin.

The building tension fades when he draws back, leaving you aching and empty. Ivarr spins you to face him as he reclines. “Ride me,” he commands, kissing you quickly, with an open mouth and teeth scraping your bottom lip. You pull away from the kiss, moving so you could sit atop him, straddling his hips, his back against a smoothed boulder. Breathless, Ivarr cannot be bothered with the loss of control —reckless abandon shines in your eyes, and he cannot help but grin as you slide down on his cock. He grunts enthralled at the feel of your warm cunt around him, walls clenching to feel every ridge and vein.

Moments pass, and you begin to move on top of Ivarr, rolling your hips into his. He groans, rough hands torn between holding onto your hips or pawing at your breasts. Instead, he decides to push himself up and let his lips attack your jaw and throat —biting and suckling— and annoyed at the slow in pace, Ivarr thrusts his hips up into yours, a sign to move faster. You don’t hesitate —lost to the exquisite bliss, clawing, desperate and eager. Holding Ivarr’s face in your hands, you try finding his lips with your own, but all you can do is moan and pant with him into his mouth, lost in the craven pleasure.

Ivarr bites hard in the crook of your shoulder and neck as he repeatedly drives his hips upward, chasing his and your releases. One of his hands slips between your bodies —his calloused thumb teasing your clit in a way that makes your hips stutter and body trembles, nails clawing into Ivarr’s shoulders. He grits his teeth, wondering if his little dove had broken skin. The burst of pain fades quickly as he watches your body bounce in time with his thrusts and listens to the moans and pants echoing off the cave walls and water.

He knows he’s close, his pants ragged and thrusts sloppy and desperate. The hitch in your breathing when he presses his thumb against your clit tells him you’re close to. It’s the boiling heat between you that takes hold, curling your toes and parting your lips in a silent throe, hands digging into Ivarr’s biceps as he chases his pleasure —teeth bared and bright eyes burning. Several thrusts later, his body tenses, and a dull warmth spreads between your connected bodies, and still, he is not done with the thrill of how you tremble and whine above him, but the rhythm soon slows, and you fall forward, resting your head on Ivarr’s chest.

You sit there, savoring the last twinges of carnal gratification, with your bodies rising and falling as you breathe in unison. And when the haze clears, you trace the small scars near his shoulders and follow the blue-black runes tattooed on his middle.

After what feels like an eternity, you feel him shift underneath you, sitting up on his hands. Ivarr glances over you —the small purple marks at the base of your neck from his lips and teeth, how your nipples are still hard, begging to have his mouth on them, and how your bodies are still connected. His cock is soft now, his seed seeping from your cunt and drying on your thighs —Ivarr thinks it a glorious sight. He hisses as he pulls himself out of your warmth, slowly, relishing in the gasps and whimpers you make at the resultant empty feeling it leaves between your thighs.

With flushed cheeks and swollen lips, you tell him you must go —this escapade would have already made you late for your daily duties, and the last thing you wish is for one of your brothers or Valka to find you in this state. He follows you from the cave behind the waterfall, back to the bank where his and your clothes are strewn. Gentler than you’d imagine, Ivarr kisses your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, before cupping your face with strong, rough fingers and moving your lips back to his. You let him move you, kissing you back, smiling against his mouth. “Come to me at nightfall,” you breathe against his lips, parting to gather up your clothes and shoes.

Ivarr grins, swatting your ass before pulling you against his chest, keeping you from reaching for your linen shift —his chin resting on your shoulder as his hand slides between your legs and two fingers sinking into your cunt, still slick with your essence and his seed. “That eager for my cock again, little dove?” He laughs.

He’s silenced when you grind back into his hips with a glint of mischief shining in your eyes. Ivarr lets you go, though reluctant, and watches you dress from the corner of his eye. It’s impulse driving you when you decide duties can wait. Smiling, you grip onto Ivarr’s wrist —he’s only half-dressed in his britches and boots, tunic in hand— and drag him away from the waterfall and toward your home in the settlement. Consequences be damned. It feels as though the gods made you and Ivarr for one another, and you aren’t willing to let another moment be wasted.

[taglist: @elizabethroestone @kitkitvm @elluvians @fullmoonwolfer1 @ghostieisalone @boodaga @southsideslutt @dynamite-with-a-lazerbeam @lizlovecraft @heathensith @alexisp787 @nobodyydobon @certifiedlittleshit ] if your name is italicized, tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you. if you want to be added to my taglist for Ivarr, just let me know in the replies or a DM!

[spook-central]

So you know how I said I was gonna write a short Ray fic based on that garage kiss in Some Kind of Wonderful?

GUESS WHAT I DID IT

I’ll be posting it here and on archive of our own! Find me there at egonspenglersnose and give it some love!)

It’s based on this scene and this song if you need a little more context! Enjoy!

•••

She Loves Me

Word Count: 2939

Warnings: none it’s fluffy!

The day had started off normally enough, aside from the usual craziness that often occurred around the firehouse. Spring was in the air, and after what had felt like a bleak and oppressive winter, it was finally time to open up the doors and air the place out.

It felt good, letting the spring air in, and it made your overtime far more bearable.

You often stayed late a few times a week to make sure everything was caught up on for the next day when things got busy during the work week, something which Janine always appreciated greatly. Tonight was no exception, but the sun staying out for a longer time in the evenings definitely made it more enjoyable.

It also helped that Ray had lingered behind this evening to work on the Ecto. You had always been incredibly fond of him, and it was obvious to just about everyone that a crush had blossomed on your part.

You recalled the day you had met him; they had hired you on the spot mainly because they needed the help but also because you had a fairly impressive resume, and Ray was one of the first of the guys you had been introduced to.

He was quite honestly one of the best looking men you had ever met, and so incredibly sweet. You immediately liked him and got a good feeling about him.

You loved how passionate he was about the Ecto, and his overall knowledge of cars had always impressed you. Even if you didn’t know much about them, you loved his enthusiasm for them and it easily rubbed off on you.

Now, as you finished up the last of your paperwork for the evening, you could hear him tinkering away not far from you. Ecto had her fair share of problems, but there was nothing Ray wouldn’t do for that car. It was like another member of the team, and you couldn’t imagine the guys doing anything without it.

Ray would occasionally come in from where he was working for something he needed, and your eyes would meet on occasion. You had never had the guts to tell him of your feelings. Ray was just so cute and enthusiastic about what he did that it was hard NOT to give him heart eyes 24/7.

From time to time, you would hear him shuffle in for a drink of water or a missing wrench that he had left in the lab, smiling at him as you took in the sight of his wild brown hair and big, sweet eyes. How was it fair for one human to be that cute? You felt like you were sixteen again with the way you wanted to fawn over him.

However, restraint was a quality you possessed as well, and you hoped that you had been able to be somewhat subtle around him.

Oh well, maybe someday you would have enough courage. Sighing as you finished up your paperwork for the night, you stood to stretch your back, adjusting your jeans, purse and blouse as you made your way towards the door.

“She still down and out?” You asked Ray as you came to stand carefully beside the lovely car he had so caringly constructed and repaired. It really was his baby, in a funny way, and you respected the work that had gone into it a great deal. Ecto kept the guys in one piece, and you gave the vehicle a sweet little pat on the roof as if to say thank you.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he said, his voice echoing off of the metal interior before attempting to stand up too quickly and bumping his head on it. “Ow!”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it always gets me like that,” he chuckled, rubbing the spot on the back of his head that had been bumped and smiling that sweet, bright smile of his at you that always made you melt. “Are you headed out for the day?”

“Yup, unless you need anything else from me that is,” truth be told, you would’ve gladly stayed all night just to hang around with him. Ray seemed hesitant to fully say Goodnight, and you couldn’t help wondering if he was thinking the same thing.

“Well, uh...hand me the socket wrench?” You had gotten a fairly decent rundown of which tools were which upon receiving your first car as a teenager thanks to your father, so luckily you knew exactly what he needed. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing,” adjusting your purse on your shoulder, you couldn’t help asking about a case that had piqued your interest. “How did that class 5 turn out?”

“The one from yesterday?”

“Yeah, that one sounded nuts!”

“It was,” he laughed, “Venkman’s aim is getting better, he didn’t make any chandeliers explode this time.”

“I thought that one was Egon?”

You both laughed, and part of you was thrilled at how naturally conversation came for the both of you.

Needing a socket wrench turned into needing pliers, but soon enough Ray ran out of tools to need and it was clear that he really just wanted to spend time with you. You weren’t about to object in the slightest, comfortably sitting on a nearby stool and watching as he worked.

Truth be told, he had liked you ever since meeting you on that first day. You were always kind to him, and listened to anything he had to say no matter how out there it was.

He also couldn’t help thinking that you were incredibly pretty and very smart, but his own shy nature prevented him from saying so the way he wanted to.

A long time passed with you talking to Ray as he worked, and it was quite nice. The sun was setting now, the light golden as it streamed in from the open door beside the Ecto, but you didn’t mind.

“So Venkman seriously busted up this woman’s entire China cabinet?” The conversation had strayed back to Venkman now, and you couldn’t help laughing. He was such an odd duck, and you always got a kick out of him and his wild antics.

“We were able to blame it on the ghost being rowdy, but my god, it was a mess!” Ray tried to smooth back his messy hair as he laughed again, his hands covered in engine grease and not helping the situation much.

“He seems like he can be a real peach when he’s not causing trouble,” you rolled your eyes, smiling as Ray closed up the Ecto’s hood.

“He teases me plenty, that’s for sure, but I love him. He’s one of my best friends,” Ray was clearly fond of Venkman, and you didn’t doubt that their bond was a special one.

“What on earth does he tease you about?”

“Mostly my luck with women. Not that his is anything to go by,” this got a gut laugh out of you, and you were surprised by how witty Ray could be at times.

“No kidding. What, does he think you haven’t got game or something?”

“He tells me women won’t want to kiss me since I smoke so much.” Ray rolled his eyes, and you couldn’t help thinking about how far from the truth that actually was. “Or he acts like I don’t know how to do it at all. I mean, sure, I spend a lot of time at work but I’m not a complete hermit.”

You both laughed again, and you sat your purse on the ground as you got a rather cheeky idea. Was it even smart to try and approach things like this? Would he go for it? God, you hoped so.

“I’m sure you know how. I mean, everybody has a general idea of how to lay a proper smooch on someone if they want to.”

He raised an eyebrow at this, thinking the phrasing was humorous and wanting to hear more from you on this subject in particular.

“A ‘proper smooch’?”

“Yeah, you know. The kiss that kills. Butterflies and rainbows and all that stuff.”

He watched you as you took a few causal steps toward the Ecto now, the gears visibly turning in his head. Was this some subtle attempt at flirting?

The nearby radio, which had been playing softly in the background the whole time, played a song that perfectly fit the mood, the lyrics softly ringing out as you contemplated what to say next.

‘Who made the rule

that I should always play the fool?

All the nights I suffered

when I need not have bothered…’

“I don’t think I’ve ever had one of those, now that I think about it,” he admitted with a half smile.

“I uh...I think I’ve gotten close, but never all the way there,” you tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, watching as Ray adjusted his uniform, which he still had on. It had smudges of engine grease on it now, and you found it endearing.

He realized that this chance was now or never, gauging by the look in your eyes that you wanted what he wanted and deciding to go for it.

“How would it work? I mean...you seem like you know more about it than me,” he took a step closer, and you knew your eyes were shining in an undeniably flirty way.

“Oh you—you want me to show you?”

“I mean...if you feel up to it. I’m no expert and I could use the help.” Cheeky man, you thought. You could certainly show him if that was what he wanted.

“Do you have your eye on somebody, Ray?”

He wiped his hands on a nearby rag, the tension heightening as you watched them and then met his eyes again. You had always had a thing for those wonderful hands of his.

“I guess you could say that, yeah,” he nodded, his big brown eyes warm and sincere and you knew what he wanted to say but didn’t right then.

Instead of pressing further, you nodded, thinking this might be the most fun lesson you ever had the pleasure of teaching anyone as you got right into it.

“Well...I mean, first you have to start off in a stationary position. That helps,” he was closer now, and your cheeks flashed a soft tinge of pink as the space between you lessened. You didn’t usually have it in you to be playful, but decided to gently hop up on the hood of the Ecto in an attempt to bring him closer. “Come a little closer than that. Can’t do a thing from that far away.”

You moved to scoot nearer to the edge of the hood, willing Ray closer and practically beaming as he closed the space between you both more and more with each step.

Had anyone else sat on the hood like this, Ray might have gotten finicky, but the sight of you so close to the car he loved so much actually only ended up getting him going even more.

“It definitely helps,” he rubbed the back of his neck now, seeing that this had clearly turned into something beyond just a lesson in kissing techniques. You could smell his cologne now that he was so close, which only seemed to set your senses on overdrive even further.

“Now, uh...do you know where your hands go?”

His eyebrows raised in what seemed like a mix of curiosity and confusion, and you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched now that he stood directly in front of you.

“My hands?”

“Yeah. They go on the hips of whoever you’re kissing,” the mood had certainly shifted now, and you felt more daring than you ever had before. A timid smile crossed your face as Ray allowed you to guide his hands to the appropriate place, and the realization that this was definitely about to happen made your stomach do leaps.

“Hips, got it.” God, his hands were so strong and steady and you didn’t even care if this got engine grease on your jeans, it was just thrilling to have him this close.

“Okay, now look into my eyes. Eye contact is important.” The both of you gave a shy, breathy chuckle as your eyes met, and you playfully shoved Ray’s chest. “Come on, we’ve gotta take this seriously if you want to learn anything.”

“Sorry, I get a little skittish with these things,” he admitted, and you shook your head with a smile.

“It’s okay, but the lesson isn’t quite over yet,” you said, your cheeks noticeably warmer. The tension was enough to make your heart race.

“Alright, and uh...after that?”

“Well, uh...my hands go here,” you reached up to loop your arms around his neck, inevitably bringing him directly between your legs and causing Ray to clear his throat.

“How do you, uh...I mean, how do you know that that happens every time?”

“I watch a lot of TV, I guess,” you managed a soft laugh with this, “now, uh...close your eyes.”

Ray’s heart was pounding. Was this seriously about to happen?

“Close my—? Oh, yeah, okay.” He nodded a bit, doing as you said and knowing he had wanted this for what felt like forever. He was so handsome up close, and you couldn’t believe your luck.

It was time to go in for the kill, and you didn’t waste a second.

Leaning in, the first contact was soft and exploratory, and it took Ray a moment to figure out exactly how to respond. But once he got the angle right, it was everything you had described and more.

The music swelled on the radio nearby, and you thought you could’ve melted right then and there.

‘The minutes that we missed

idle lips that should’ve kissed

and now gently together

The first kiss lasts forever

She loves me, she loves me

Oh and she loves me, all the time…’

Tilting his head a bit, Ray found just the right angle, and one kiss turned into what felt like a million. Your hands made their way into his hair, that hair you loved so much that often seemed to fly out in all directions.

His lips were soft and very pleasant to kiss, and it occurred to you that he must use lip balm of some kind. Ray himself couldn’t believe this was happening. He honestly couldn’t fathom how he had been lucky enough to end up kissing you like this, but he was, and he was putting everything he had into it.

Ray’s mind moved at a million miles a minute. All he could think about was how it felt when you moved in a rhythm with him, how soft your lips were, your soft body, and how GOOD you smelled—

He nearly sighed as he felt your leg brace around him to bring him in as close as possible, gripping your jeans to pull you close by your hips in return.

You nearly melted into a puddle on the floor at the feeling of his grip, so strong and firm on you like he couldn’t bear to leave any space between the two of you at all.

He must have shaved that morning, you thought, having expected him to have at least a little stubble and feeling surprised that there was none. Where on earth had Ray learned to kiss so well? Boy would Venkman have egg on his face if he knew about THIS.

Unfortunately for you both, you had to break away and breathe at some point, just looking at each other until you finally managed to speak.

“Well, uh...Venkman was wrong. Way wrong. Wow.”

“It was...I mean, was it like you said? Butterflies and—and all that for you too?”

“Are you kidding?” You laughed, “sheesh, I didn’t know you had that in you. You wouldn’t have any trouble hooking any woman you wanted if you kissed her like that.”

He seemed surprised and incredibly flattered, looking down and then back up at you with a grin and eager brown eyes.

“Was it obvious at all that I was referring to you?”

“I kind of hoped that was the case,” both of you grinned then, the final chorus of the song fading out in the background as the spring breeze blew in once more.

‘She loves me, she loves me

Oh and she loves me all the time…’

You couldn’t resist leaving a sweet peck on Ray’s cheek just because you could, earning a bright smile from him as he got a somewhat playful gleam in his eye.

“The guys are gonna be gone for the rest of the evening, and I don’t have anything else planned...would you want to grab some dinner with me?”

“Sure, but only if we can do more of this afterwards,” you giggled, and Ray helped you off the hood of the Ecto to stand you up and kiss you so that he could press you flush against him now. You were sure you looked like a cartoon character with birds chirping around your head as he pulled away.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Ray said, unable to keep from grinning as he took your hand, “but you’ve got yourself a deal.”

What a lesson to teach with anyone, you thought. He was a fast learner, that was for sure.

Picking up your purse, the two of you headed out, and you couldn’t help humming that lovely chorus to yourself one last time.

‘She loves me, she loves me

Oh and she loves me all the time…’

[simssprout]

sims 4 holiday legacy!

i wanted to make a fun legacy with some silly rules to shake up the traditional goal based legacies! hope you enjoy it!

general rules:

- must complete aspiration, get to level ten of career, and complete extra rules to complete gen

- can use money cheats (if you want it to be traditional legacy, start with 1800 simoleans, if not, download a nice house and have starting funds)

- physical style/dress sense are suggestions, as you can have your sims look however you want

- everyone in household must have an excellent holiday for the holiday that correlates with the gen. if the holiday didnt come with seasons, add it to the calender!

gen 1: new years

as the first holiday of the year, youre ready to get your life, body, and mind into shape!

- traits: active, dog lover, perfectionist

- aspiration: bodybuilder

- career: writer (author)

- must always be dressed “fancy”

- silvery/platinum blonde hair

- max out fitness and writing skill. reach level five of wellness

- if you have the packs, include vintage glamour or luxury party in multiple rooms of your house

- whenever you are tense, must do yoga to cool off

- have a dog with active trait, go for jogs with them often

- only eat foods that you deem as healthy

- visit every gym lot in game (could do just premade ones and/or can add your own)

- marry a sim you met a gym or spa

- only publish motivational books or fitness

- have three friends that you go out with occasionally and party

- get “juiced” every holiday

gen 2: love day

youve been obsessed with romcoms and romance novels since you were a kid. now that youre grown up, you want to fulfill your childhood romance dreams!

- traits: romantic, bookworm, art lover

- aspiration: soulmate

- career: social media, either branch

- pink/red hair

- dress “romantically” (if you have seasons, use heart dress/suit)

- max charisma and painting skill

- must go on weekly dates with significant other

- gush about partner whenever option is avliable

- paint multiple portraits of partner using paint from reference

- only read romance novels and watch romantic tv

- if you have pets, must dress them in cute dresses

- live in the city as a young adult, can move after if you want to

- always go to romance festival

- have a boy and a girl

gen 3: talk like a pirate day

youve always loved the pirate lifestyle, exploring, stealing, and meeting people all over the place. eventhough you cant have a career as a pirate, that dosent stop you!

- traits: kleptomaniac, non-commital, self-assured

- aspiration: jungle explorer

- career: mixologist

- must wear a pirate outfit/hat as an everyday outfit

- max mixology and archeology skill. reach at least level four mischief

- have at least two children with different partners

- marry someone young, divorce, and never marry again

- have multiple boyfriends/girlfriends at a time

- always sell your artifacts and any other “treasure” you find

- complete at least four “plumages” (temples)

- attempt to steal something from every lot you visit

- for extra fun, if you use mc command center, max woohoo skill

- accept any party invite

gen 4: bunny day

you love being outside! in any weather, your family can expect to find you exploring outside in the garden, fishing, or finding some frogs

- traits: loves outdoors, unflirty, clumsy

- aspiration: angling ace

- career: fisherman and have a business (selling flower arrangements and mounted fish) or gardener (floral arranger)

- one outfit should be overalls

- green/purple hair

- this sim really likes hats

- max fishing and flower arranging. reach level 5 gardening and baking

- always talk about the current weather in every conversation

- if raining, shower in the rain instead of your shower

- have a large garden, but only grow flowers

- complete frog collection

- have a full fish tank in your house

- live in a tiny house

- purchase storm chaser and water resistant aspiration traits

- have one child

- become BFF with flower bunny

gen 5: earth day

the love your parent had for nature passed onto you. you want to make sure youre enjoying outside, while also protecting it!

- traits: green fiend, maker, gloomy

- aspiration: outdoor enthusiast

- career: eco innovator

- have green hair

- have a boho style

- live in either storage container or tiny home

- max herbalism and fabrication

- when you visit - must pick plain lot and sleep in a tent

- live off the grid and/or have surplus of energy

- have a large garden full of just fruits/veggies

- gift your herbal recipes to friends and family

- have bees and bugs

- have dumpster dived furniture in every room (once you unlock smog vaccum)

- one day a week do not eat a meal, only eat harvestables

- vote for a community garden maker space if living in evergreen harbour

- optional: can become a plant sim

gen 6: simspendence day

the party lifestyle is the lifestyle for you! friends, drinking, and fun is how you live your life! but you also make time to solve and end crime in your wonderful world!

- traits: dance machine, bro, jealous

- aspiration: party animal or island life

- career: detective

- red/yellow hair

- wears sunglasses often, even in cold weather!

- live in oasis springs

- any cooking you do must be on a grill or over a fire

- max guitar, dancing, and dj skill. reach level 4 fitness

- sing karaoke whenever theres a karaoke machine present

- have gold on every event type

- get suntans often

- ride bikes and kick soccer balls often

- have a large backyard with hot tub, fire pit, and water slides

- have two kids, have a good relationship with both. no parenting interactions though.

- watch sports tv only

- have five good friends (not including family). give two of them your house key

gen 7: prank day

what can you say? pranking is fun! messing with people and rilling them up is your favorite passtime.

- traits: goofball, ambitious, mean

- aspiration: chief of mischief

- career: engineer

- max comedy, mischief, and robotics

- always do a funny introduction to people

- use voodoo doll everytime you see the person it is bound to

- go to all dance parties you are invited to after 8pm and prank people

- create a servo

- marry someone that you had a bad relationship with originally

- you really like bowling. take your dates/family bowling often

- have a sad clown painting in your house

- if theres a microphone present, perform a comedy routine

gen 8: spooky day

youve always been obsessed with the spooky season and occult sims. now that you have your own house, its always spooky season!

- traits: loner, genius, neat

- aspiration: nerd brain

- career: astronaut

- black hair

- this sim wears glasses

- max rocket science, handiness

- befriend one of every occult

- can have a spooky house or just always have it decorated spooky

- must have at least one everyday outfit that is a “costume”

- always have carved pumpkins outside your door

- complete geode collection

- visit sixam at least three times

- have a child from a one night stand. do not marry that sim. marry an occult sim

gen 9: harvestfest

cooking has been an outlet for you since your parents let you near the stove. you love creating recipes for your family, friends, and even pets to try!

- traits: glutton, lazy, cat lover

- aspiration: big happy family or successful lineage

- career: own a vet

- yellow/orange hair

- wears mostly warm (tan, brown, yellow, orange) clothes

- max gourment cooking and vet skill

- have all 8 slots full (can include pets)

- must cook homemade pet recipes weekly

- have a little veggie patch for fresh ingredients

- befriend patchy

- whenever eating food not made by you, complain about the meal

- if you cook something less than excellent quality, throw it away and make a new dish, no matter how hungry you are

- get married twice

- rake leaves and then woohoo in them

- have family move nights schedules on the calendar!

gen 10: winterfest

winter is the best! the good food, cold weather, and constant family time is what life is all about!

- traits: family oriented, cheerful, materialistic

- aspiration: lady of the knits

- career: education

- blue/silvery hair

- wear lots of sweaters and cozy clothing

- max cooking and knitting

- give presents to family members everytime you see them

- keep a christmas tree in house year round

- must declare “snow” as favorite weather

- every day there is snow on ground, you must interact with it (snowball fight, shovel, snowpal, snow angel etc)

- have at least three children

- befriend father winter (can marry if you want to)

- complete snowglobe collection

- get the cold acclimation reward trait

- have a dinner party once every two weeks and cook a grand meal everytime

- have lots of family pictures in your house

- get the polar plunge player achievement (can make a holiday)

- always have a fireplace lit

[jungleslang]

I know that SJM's female leads usually have an artistic talent. Feyre is a painter, Nesta is a dancer, and people are wondering what Elain's art form will be. I also see people saying the fact that Gwyn is a singer shows that she is the one that will end up with Az. However, Elain already has an artistic talent, and an amazing one at that. I'm here to tell you that gardening is indeed an art, and one I think a lot of people overlook.

The perception of gardening as an art goes all the way back to ancient times. Greek and Roman writers and philosophers considered designing and furnishing a garden to be one of the most inventive agricultural creations. Some people have even claimed that garden design is the greatest of all art forms. Designing a garden requires the coordination of hundreds of plants, which we have to remember are living things. So you must also take into consideration nutrient cycles, natural patters, and climate factors. This is why some consider gardening to be the greatest art form, because it is living art. It is art in which your canvas is the earth itself. Plants go through a cycle of living and dying, of withering and blossoming again, and the gardener has to work with that.

In order to create a beautiful garden, you have to decide on the placement of every single plant, the height and trim of them, the colors of each flower and whether they complement each other. In this way, Elain's gardening is similar to Feyre's painting. They are both creating a picture, but Elain is using plants while Feyre uses paint. Not only do you have to think about the picture you are trying to create, you also have to consider the way people are going to move through the space. Gardens are meant to be explored, so it has to be designed in a way that people can walk through it. You really have to figure out how to maximize every inch of the space you have. And on top of all of this, there is a lot of knowledge required to properly tend to a garden. Every plant is different and requires different things, like different amounts of sunlight and water. Soil quality is important as well.

In ACOWAR, Feyre tells Lucien that Elain created some of the most beautiful gardens she's ever seen, even in Prythian. And let's not forget that Feyre used to live in the spring court, so Elain's gardens had to have been absolutely breath-taking for her to say this. Let's look at some examples of gardens.

I feel like there is no way anyone can look at these images and tell me that creating gardens isn't art. Look at the way it all flows together, the way the space is used, the way the colors enhance each other. Think of all the knowledge Elain must have to create something like this. All the time and effort she must have put in. I've seen some people speculating that Elain might also be a singer, and I'm not gonna lie, I can totally see this. Elain definitely seems like the type to sing to her plants to communicate her love to them and help them grow. Also, I would love for Elain and Az to sing duets together, my heart would explode. However, while I'm not against this idea, Elain doesn't really need another art form because she already has one. An amazing one that requires so much more skill and effort than we realize. And one that is very different from what we've seen before.

There's also the fact that a lot of people refuse to acknowledge gardening as art or how difficult it is to design and manage a beautiful garden because it's usually seen as feminine and something that women do, and we all know that women's work is devalued. Men's work is considered inherently more valuable simply because it's men that are doing it, but that's a whole other conversation that some people aren't ready for.

I said what I said.

Thanks for reading 💙

[thekitschdiet]

my take on the literary masterpiece, the chic diet

Firstly, I am no one. It’s part of my charm. My fifteen minutes of fame was years ago, when I had an instagram niche meme page. I didn’t even take any brand deals! And my posts averaged six thousand likes! Anyhow. I am hardly literate and well hydrated and carry a small sephora-CVS-hybrid worth in my mini tote bag. Here is my guide on how to live like me, the intermediate kitsch-rat, aspiring influencer. But like, in an apathetic, somewhat dissonant, ironic way. I like saying I live by dogmatic principles. But a lot of it, um, is just eating disorder rituals. But that’s not really important. You’re as hot as you say you are, and as much an authority on what you write so long as you say it with, you know, conviction. It’s kind of venerable how fucking delusional I am, actually. Giving any sort of advice like I’m anywhere close to the ritzy ideal of the amphetamine-areyouami label-american. New York, ideally. West Village, preferably. But I guess the kind of guide I can write is better suited to someone living in a suburb, in a house with the twelve-paned windows. I always thought those were so chic. SO quaint, in a somewhat luxe way. Like, Connecticut vibes. My parents used to drive me up there as a child to buy books and ice cream. Nowadays I’d opt for a matcha latte with novelty ice cubes, but I guess at the time it was pretty sweet. 

Because I popped a Vyvanse at like, 10pm, this next little bit could go one of two ways. I will write the most articulate, brilliant piece of literature of my life. Magnum opus, if there was a skinnier word for it. Or, I will get wrapped up doing something like folding all my last-season knits (which is part of my look, okay! I don’t have a job!) and fixating on a paragraph on how a girl’s collarbones are almost as identifying as a fingerprint, or a signature. I’m not a graphologist, but if you write your A’s with the little tail on top (like on a computer), you’re probably a snake. Nothing personal, just an observation. Also, I do have a biology final to study for. Not that I’m super anal, or even particularly committed to academia, but even in my precariously manicured (read that as separate terms; I did a good job on my nail polish, okay? But I happen to also be teetering on the brink of an epiphany or a collapse. Hence the use of the word precarious.) state, I know it’s important enough I can let one of my countless side-quests sit idle for a couple more days. 

The first section seems only natural to be about hydration. And the whole idea of drinking things, really. There was a section in The Chic Diet about Adderall dry-mouth, which deeply resonated with me. Once I bit off a chunk of a Nivea Strawberry Shine (my favorite lip balm, more on that later) and swished it around my mouth. Didn’t help. Really, really didn’t. Anyway, I suppose that even if it served no purpose for combatting my prevacatingly ingenious cottonmouth solution, I was able to milk a sentence or two out of the experience. “Do it for the Vine”, all grown up! And wearing bananapapaya resin hoops too. Side note, that Etsy shop is a parasocial enemy of mine. It stems from jealousy, which sucks, but hating from inside a club I’m adjacent to is much healthier than being a hateful individual towards people I would, you know, interact with. Daily. Or something. I stopped going to therapy because I felt stupid about going and I don’t live in the right kind of town to warrant vacuous $300 hours. Bitching about my well-adjusted parents and how desperately I wished my anxiety would just “go away” was plainly gross, and a waste. Like, pretty sure almost every problem I have could be solved by a couple painful conversations taking place during a hurricane. Such a shame it doesn’t rain much here. Anyhow, I digress. 

Staying hydrated. It is essential to my character, my persona, if you will; to never be without either an elegant metal bottle (I’m loyal to the smooth enamelled S’well ones, printed to look like marble or a semi holographic solid) or a little 16oz tumbler with a metal straw. Hydroflasks were some of the worst things to happen to society. I want to preface this claim with the fact that I wanted one in the same way a teenage girl wants a new iPhone so she can keep up appearances with her dermatologist-dad friends who still have the XR, by the way. But I ended up spending the money on like, a minidress at Brandy Melville before it fled my city. Or maybe a Fresh Sugar tinted lipbalm. For the better, even though the dress has a busted zipper now and the lipbalm tube has inevitably gotten dinged and dented by the other contents of my mini-totebag. Unlike a car, though, a couple scuffs on your laptop or your luxury lipbalm tube looks kind of cool. Like, you’re not someone who values the pristine, unused quality of an item that was ambiguously intended to be used versus displayed on Instagram.  Now, I’m wondering why this paragraph about hydration is so fucking impossible to stay on track for. I literally drink several litres of water a day, and more tea on top of that. And sometimes an almond milk latte if I can budget it in. Not that I’m so anorexic I can’t afford a 45cal latte. They’re just not that important to me. Anyhow. Drinking lukewarm (on the cool side) water is better than ice-cold. Partially because I just get it out of the tap of my ensuite and I can’t be bothered to wait for it to run cold enough every time, and it just seems wasteful. Plus, there is something so.. skinny about drinking water at an “obscure” temperature. Trust me, I want to know why my thought process is like this too. My favorite tea is blueberry tea foraged in a side aisle at my local supermarket. I love a good commercial, high-end steep or fruit infusion as much as the next girl. Maybe more. My pantry is filled with tins labelled with things like “emerald jade organic” and “magic potion”, which is really just currants and butterfly pea flowers. But there is a necessary glamor about drinking dirt-cheap tea on the daily. Seriously, a box of 25 sachets is like, $3. At a higher point with my, um, Adderall problem, I spent like several times that on pills. I didn’t really need to include that, and could have linked the price point to the cost of a drugstore lipbalm, but I wrote it in. And I’m married to it, stubbornly, as all amateur writers should be when they wittle in a somewhat indecorous little joke. This tea is sooo good because it has a strong fruit-reminiscent taste (not as sweet as a fresh blueberry, but who wants that anyway?), it’s zero-calorie, it’s the most GORGEOUS color ever. The latte, the third drink in my little trifecta, is nothing special. But necessary. The trick is to use a milk frother to whip up sugar free syrup with instant coffee and a little bit of hot water in a glass. It’ll make the most luscious foam.. Top it off with almond milk. My dad is a coffee purist, owning both an upstairs keurig AND a downstairs one (among other more analogue methods, but I can’t name-drop, so what’s the point?), so he hates this drink. Now, calling oneself a plebian is so unglamorous and teetering on self-deprecating territory, dangerously close to insecurity. But I can use it here because I am at least posh enough to have a different pair of earrings for every outfit I could possibly come up with, and I only wear Patagonia if I am in a situation where I just have to wear fleece. Like I was saying. It’s such a simple drink, certainly not a delicacy, and… I had a joke about the word plebian but I keep getting up to refill my water and I fear I have forgotten about it. 

Next section; the importance of a good tinted balm

In the intro I alluded to how a girl’s collarbones function essentially as an identifier, the way a signature or fingerprint does. This is a lie, or at least an exaggeration. But one’s ultimate tinted lipbalm is  actually extremely indicative about who you are, as a person, as a member of society, even… 

If you are loyal to Dior Lipglow, I have a couple questions. One; did you shoplift one tube, once, and refill it with cheaper stuff afterwards? I did that. I consider it one of my better-kept secrets, but now you know. Might as well explain the catalyst for my parent’s first separation now, and the horrifying experience that was meeting my dad’s Manhattan sugar baby (?) at the age of thirteen, wearing an overalls dress from, like, Topshop or something else equally embarrassing. .. Kidding. I digress. It’s such a fancy lipbalm, and good too! It smells like thin mints! But I could just never justify cell phone monthly installation payment money on something I will inevitably talk off. I do own three, but two I stole (before I lost the nerve, somewhat unfortunately) and one, a boy(not)friend bought for me. This is not something I feel any remorse about, because his house was easily four thousand square feet and his sisters had a dedicated all-glass room for their shared peloton. Oil money. Ugh!

My personal favorite lip balm, and I have tried a frightening amount, has got to be the Nivea Fruit Shine collection. The frosted one is shit-ugly. Hideous. But the strawberry one is the love of my life. It’s such a pleasant red, looking healthy and rejuvenated and really completes any look. Only downside is it will always, hopefully not always, remind me of Charles. Kissing Charles, specifically. And him asking me what lipbalm it was, because he knew I was somewhat frivolous and definitive and would have a very long answer. But for whatever reason, I simply stated it was from “out of town”. Not really sure why I said that, but it plagues me (minorly) to this day. Of all the things to make up.. .. The peach one is a perfectly demure spring classic shade. Cherry exists too, but the only tube I have ever had the fortune of owning was purchased in Costa Rica and lost somewhere on the way home. Honestly tragic, it was the juiciest shade. Blackberry is perfect too, but I have to layer it with either peach or untinted lipbalm to avoid what I imagine TooPoor would choose if she believed in tinted lipbalm. I don’t mean this hatefully, I think she’s a queen, but super dark, smudgy makeup suits the eyes better in my opinion. Or something. Or something.

Afraid to bore the reader, I have to move on now. Maybe at a later date I will release an addendum on my ultimate lipbalm buying guide. But also, that is so deeply personal (and everyone needs the excuse of “hunting for the perfect staple shade!!”), so it is really not my place to have any authority on something so intimate and subjective. Etcetera. 

Moving on; Decorating your room

Here is a section I lifted out of my memoir document. It fits, because as enigmatic as I hope I am, I am also quite unchanging.

 I just pushed three hangers and two tiny strappy tops with the tags still on, off my bed. Most nights, all, these days, actually; I spend in my large but cluttered bedroom. I have a little ensuite with a jetted tub I’ve never used because I just never get around to it. There’s a plush grey rug, spanning the expanse of the room (covering an ugly cherry wood that doesn’t match the rest of the house; no clue why. I never asked, and the previous owners were eager to sell so they could finally ditch this town and retire in Montreal for the bagels, or Hawaii for the monk seals. Point is, I’ll never know) with loose beads and loose pills and little shards of glass from plier-crushed beads. I vacuum every day. The whole room tells you exactly the kind of person I am; the clutter I possess, the encapsulation of the projects I start, start, start and the hours I don’t sleep for and the clothes I tried on (these to sell, these to cut up with kitchen scissors; thrifted lululemon and aritzia and heaps of knits and plaid fabric..) I would not say the room is a mess. Lived in, maybe. Chopsticks and mugs and gum wrappers. Single dangle earrings. I just finished the last of my Creme Brulee eos lipbalm; disguised as a relic of 2015, I was gifted it Christmas of ‘20. I think my next waxy conquest will be a tinted Burt’s one I palmed a while back, before I lost the nerve. Peering around the room you will see shopping bags strewn about the mouth of my walk-in closet. Every surface has something shiny or colorful stacked up on it. Cluttered, busy, but intentional. Except for the walls, which are bare. Bare and gray and miles-tall when I lie flat on my back, high out of my mind, willing things to change but knowing I’m responsible for a first step I will always be too scared for. Bare, pristine, no gumtack. Empty, Like they’re waiting. I wait around a lot. It makes sense. That was an awful lot of words about my stupid blank walls when truly it does not bother me that much; I really just don’t get around to it. I have other things on the ground to tend to, like post-email nausea, addressing envelopes, marrying wire and bead.  Writing a document I care about because I am determined and I am alive, alive, alive, goddammit. 

Excerpt over. The memoir is coming out when I get famous, or something earth shattering happens. Like I become the world’s least remarkable entrepreneur, and I get retweeted by Colorpop. I don’t want to be the next Elizabeth Wurtzel. I read two of her memoirs one restless night, absorbing it to make up for the nutrients I didn’t that day (you can laugh. I think that is pretty clever), heart breaking a little bit. She writes about her struggles so intrinsically, you either get it, or you don’t. Anyway. She had the books and the fame from it, and she wrote more memoirs than I think a single person should. That is admirable. Aspirational, even. But I do not want to be like her. Where was I? Oh. Yes. Decorating/adorning/filling your room. Your room should serve as the kind of place to watch a movie (if you believe in film. I don’t) and put on ridiculous glittery eye makeup, or smoke an ~artistic cigarette~ or stay up all night on the phone, which is different from staying up all night simply on your phone. Chatting with someone you are tepidly in love with is much more exciting. Not chic as the whole affair is so juvenile, but fun regardless. It’s somewhere to keep your worldly possessions, too. I know I have a lot! Also, it is kind of thrilling to hide things in your room in little crevices only you know about. Now, unfortunately, everyone reading this will know too. But, like, I trust you not to really.. do anything about it. I keep my extra juul pods in the sliding box my apple pencil came in. That box is almost more useful than the pencil itself. I’m somewhat morally opposed to the iPad. Whole culture is so embarrassing! I have a tea tin with an ounce of golden teacher shrums in it. This is tossed in my closet among tins filled with other things, like lace trim and buttons. Which makes it actually a pretty terrible hiding spot, I see now… Anyhow. Keeping benign little secrets like that is so fun. You can tell I don’t have siblings. I sort of wish I did, but it is easier to believe there is something aristocratic about being an only child. Not sure if older-sister me would be egalitarian enough to share things. But that’s prophesying, which is kind of a waste of time. I live in the now, in a room positively cluttered with meaningless things that mean the world to me, chewing on my lip because my mouth is just so dry and 5gum is just not an after-8 indulgence. To live truly kitschly, you have to have somewhat hideous decor. Now, do not confuse dissonant, or incoherent, with what I mean by “hideous decor”. The kitsch room has as many surfaces to look at as possible, while also shying away from too many shelving units. Then you risk your room looking like a storage unit or something. When my mom renovated (re: paid someone to do it) our New York house so we could sell it, all our stuff was stacked up in a Cubesmart self storage. It was sort of horrifying, seeing my childhood home reduced to plastic storage tubs piled what felt like thirty feet high. Anyway. It’s just not an  inviting way to store things; I imagine it makes your room look like your stuff is all trapped in gelatin. The more fussy, tiny things you have out in the open, the better. Nail polish. Earring trees. Bowls full of rings and lighters and water color pans perched on your windowsill. A rack with the tackiest assortment of knits and bucket hats and baguette bags. And so forth.. Quickly surveying someone’s room is so telling. Bonus points if all your books are spine-in, except for your favorite ones, because you don’t want people to get the wrong idea. (that you read). 

[an-annyeoing-writer]

vulnerability. – chap. 1.

Read the prologue here

Story info:

Pair: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Rating: +18 for mentions of s*x and violence (future chapters)

Genre: angst, smut

Chapter info:

Release date: 16th May 2021

Word count: 3 727

Warnings: mentions of trauma (nothing descriptive)

Vulnerability Masterlist || Fanfiction Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Taglist:

@shesdreaminginoverdose @mybiasdashboard @marimsun @byuns-asscheeks @multi--kpop--fanfics @vunv @making-me-blush @skittlez-area512 @bloopbloopkai @byuns-asscheeks @baekyeonoreo @kimcarinaa

Please, always comment on the newest chapter if you wish to be added to/removed from the taglist. I will be also checking the tags, so if you're shy – feel free to leave a note this way.

Previous (Prologue)

Chap. 1.

Living in a small apartment close to the city center was not always convenient.

You regretted you couldn’t buy all the pretty things that you saw in stores or on Pinterest, because they’d easily overwhelm the limited space. Your neighbors constantly reminded you that they’re a few meters away from you, with screams, children’s cries, music, or chopping meat at 2 AM if that’s what a particular neighbor decided to do.

Fortunately, as the time passed, you got used to most of it and started to appreciate the small space, almost effortless to keep clean, close to both your university and the workplace, and the city center – an area that was always restless during the long days and nights that you spent watching it through your tall window, as if waiting for someone to look back at you.

Despite the comfort of living alone that you tried to indulge in, you couldn’t help growing lonelier and lonelier with every passing day. At the very least, your job and university often took the worries off your mind, and they eventually became your whole life, an existence that focused on never-ending effort in the name of better future, as though there was nothing in the present worth fighting for.

You studied finance; you didn’t give it much hope at first, but it ended up becoming interesting as you started connecting the dots and realizing how broad and important this topic was. Yet, as any newborn financier, you used your secret knowledge in the mysterious field of retail. In other words, you worked part-time as a cashier in a convenience store. Twenty four years old, on your way to getting that famous Master’s degree, already more than halfway through the process, yet – education without experience mattered nothing, as you realized the very moment you started looking for your first job, unable to keep counting on your parents. Not like you wanted to stay in touch with them, anyway.

Adulthood was difficult; the small apartment, due to its location, costed more than your whole family’s used to in your hometown. A small scholarship kept you set up with electricity and water fees, but for WiFi you needed to depend on a close-by library with a good signal; it turned out to have the connection good enough to reach from at least one place in your apartment, the one you coincidentally used for occasional observations. You weren’t sure whether you discovered the WiFi while sitting or if you developed the observing habit upon having to spend your time there over any other place. The only downside of this solution was that some sites were blocked after a scandal over men in the library performing actions other than polite studying, with the help of library computers. The event was outrageous to some, but primarily it became an object of jokes and memes all thorough the city, and maybe even country-wide to some extent. Either way, in times of need, your phone still had its meager data transfer. Good enough.

It was Saturday now; Saturdays were good but busy, because you worked at nights, then slept the shift off, and after you woke up, you could go and study all that you missed throughout the week, if for any reason the classes didn’t sound appealing enough or something else happened, distracting you from them. You spent Saturday afternoons either by the window of your room (where the WiFi reached) or just went straight to the library – a place way more spacious than your own apartment, and quieter as well. The only issue was, that you couldn’t snack in there and you ought to stay quiet. You decided to go with the latter and set foot towards the library.

Therefore, when your phone suddenly rang there, a few faces snapped towards you in obvious disapproval; you cursed internally, before you even managed to pull the phone out of your pocket, because you panicked so much that your hands shook at the initial attempt to do so. You got up from your seat and quickly disappeared between the bookshelves, where the people staying by the tables wouldn’t hear you so well anymore.

“Hello?” you whispered into the phone.

“Hello. Am I disturbing you?”

Your heart dropped as you recognized the voice, although you weren’t completely certain if you recognized it well, it sounded a bit different through the phone. The number was unknown on your phone, but there was only one person that could be calling you today.

You took a few seconds to compose yourself; less than you actually needed, but just enough so that the silence would not turn awkward.

“Um… I can’t talk loudly, but that’s okay.”

“I can call you later.”

“N-no need to, I’ll just whisper.”

“Okay, then.” He was quiet for a few seconds, but you heard some shuffling on the other side. “Do you have time tonight?”

The question was sudden, so you weren’t completely sure, if you did. But your mind felt too empty to figure that out, anyway.

“No. I mean, yes. Sorry, I meant I don’t have plans. So, um, yes, I’m free.” This didn’t sound professional at all. However, you heard quiet laughter on the other side and exhaled almost audibly in relief; it was the first time you heard him laugh with you, and it served to calm your nerves like a wave of calmness coming over you.

“Well, do you want to meet? I’m going to a museum and I don’t feel like going alone. What about that?”

“A museum? That… sounds nice.” When was the last time you’ve been to one? What a perfect opportunity to make a fool out of yourself. “What time?”

“Around six? If that’s okay with you.” If you remembered well, it had to be around three now.

“Sounds alright, where should we meet?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“Okay. Thank you.” What were you exactly thanking him for? Hard to tell. But you heard him laugh again; you felt like he’s mocking you, but you quickly realized it couldn’t be the case – a warm voice like this couldn’t be ill-intended.

“Sure thing, you’re welcome. We’re set up, then?”

“A-actually, I have a question, if it’s not a problem.” You bit on your lip, knowing than in less than ten seconds, you were going to probably embarrass yourself in front of an educated and serious adult.

“What’s the matter?” he asked politely.

“So, um… What should I wear?”

* * *

You were grateful for the few tips given by Byun Baekhyun at the end of your conversation, because otherwise you’d either be underdressed or overdressed. You ended up wearing a more elegant university attire, something you usually wore for exams, but which didn’t make you appear too formal; a long, woolen skirt that was your private treasure due to its ability to keep you warm even in winter (and it was still spring; the weather was questionable), as well as leather shoes, a beige shirt and a thick, knitted cardigan. You felt quite modest; something told you that it wasn’t a regular date. You didn’t feel a need to reveal anything, or to focus on your feminine attributes. You just felt like it wouldn’t serve any purpose. As long as Baekhyun was concerned, you had an impression that he’s more interested in your mind than in the way you look – the clothes you wore last time, just a little bit revealing and suggestive, had done nothing to save you. You wanted only to look appropriate, and you were sure you managed to achieve at least that.

As you found out soon enough, he wasn’t particularly dressed up, either. A button-up shirt without without a tie – bow or neck type – and jeans, made of high-quality denim, not like the ripped through or worn out ones people sometimes wore. And a suede coat. Although he wasn’t dressed up to look attractive, it would be difficult not to feel attracted to him. Byun Baekhyun had his own aura of independence and considerate distance connected with subtle proximity, and this time, you had the chance to appreciate this harmony, working perfectly for him, highlighting his soft masculinity. Even more so, when you noted a small, gentle smile that appeared on his lips when he spotted you leaving your apartment block.

“Hi there” he spoke.

“Hi there” you replied.

“The museum is nearby, so I didn’t take the car, is that okay?”

It was probably too late to change the means of transport anyway, so the question was pointless. But no, you didn’t mind.

“It’s okay. What museum are we going to?”

He put hands in the pockets of his coat and tilted his head to the side, observing as you approached. You crossed your hands over your chest; it was a bit colder than you expected, and the skirt only warmed you up at the bottom, the wind still reached the top.

“You should put on something warmer. It’ll get even colder on the way back” he spoke. “Go back and get yourself a jacket, I’ll wait.”

You wanted to oppose and say it’s alright, but you didn’t; it didn’t feel right to argue with him. You only nodded and went home to retrieve a better outwear; you were back in no time.

“So? Which museum?”

You looked up at Baekhyun: the man walked by your side, or – in fact – you were walking by his; he stayed in control of the situation, but resonated with warmth and peacefulness rather than the coldness and stillness you experienced last time. And especially as he spoke, you found yourself easing into the conversation more naturally, and your initial fear quickly turned into innocent shyness upon the older man’s presence.

“A complex of museums nearby. There’s everything there, a historical museum of the region, one about the history of mining worldwide, and an art museum. I wanted to see the last one, I heard they unveiled a few new pieces since the the last time I went. You’re not local?” He glanced at you with polite curiosity.

“Not really. I moved here to study” you explained. “I know the nearby area, but I’m not too… um, social. I only know where to do the cheapest groceries and where they sell the best bread.”

“Where?”

“Behind the river, by the intersection with the highway. It looks small but really, you should try it out. Especially their cinnamon rolls.”

Baekhyun hummed.

“That sounds nice. I can recommend the best pizza in return.”

“You eat takeouts often?”

“Yep.”

“You’d save money if you cooked for yourself. Pizzas are expensive.”

Another warm laugh reached your ears, and through them, your heart as well.

“I’ll save money if I spend the time for cooking on working instead.”

“Okay, that’s a valid point. But homemade food is healthier.”

“Depends on where you buy your takeout.” He seemed to have an answer to your every doubt. “I wouldn’t trust just any restaurant, you know? It’s basically what my diet consists of.”

“Variety is also important. Don’t argue with me on that.”

“I won’t. But I won’t take you for a pizza, if that’s your stance on that.”

“I didn’t say I don’t want it” you remarked right away; he replied with laugh, which you found yourself copying naturally.

The conversation flowed smoothly, reaching more or less unimportant topics: the city life, current events, your university, possible career, Baekhyun’s interests – you found out he likes music; it’s too sad to work in silence – and the museum you were going to.

The place you felt initially quite neutral about, brought you more peace than you expected it to. It looked harmonious and the lights were soft. No one hurried through the gallery, and the paintings, although not so interesting at first, you soon learned to appreciate, trying to catch onto small details that, you could tell, Baekhyun already knew by heart, but he smiled every single time you pointed at something specific that caught your attention, even if it was as silly as matching colors, or realistically portrayed lights – these were your favorites.

And, slowly but surely, you got accustomed to the pretty sights, excitement turning into relaxation, and even Baekhyun himself seemed more content than you thought he’d be in your presence.

“You’re different,” you spoke as the two of you sat on a bench in front of one of the tall, monumental pieces; this one was a modern painting full of splashes and mixed colors, soft browns, yellows, and greens, so big that it definitely wouldn’t fit in your bedroom – the first thought you had upon seeing its size.

Despite the painting being in the very center of the gallery, you were the only ones watching it now.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re different today than you were yesterday” you elaborate. “Less… intimidating” you tried to put your thoughts into words.

Baekhyun laughed in response; the laughter was soft and warm, which made you exhale in relief – you feared that he’d feel offended at the remark.

“Yesterday was different. I needed to test you.”

“What do you mean?”

He stared at the painting as he leaned forward, resting elbows on his knees and shifting a little bit, probably thinking how to say the thing he had to say, without causing misunderstandings. You stared at him, completely having lost interest in the painting by now, ready to hear out whatever was to be spoken.

“People often come to me because they’re attracted to me. Well, not blaming them” he grinned; you rolled your eyes a little, but it did relieve the tension, most likely according to his own intention. “However, I’m not interested in romantic relationships. If you come to me expecting a date, you’ll get disappointed. And you won’t be able to handle what it is truly about, if I’m the only thing keeping you interested. It’ll be a hassle for the both of us.”

He glanced at you only briefly, ensuring that you’ve heard him so far before shifting his eyes back forward.

“So I’m always like this at first, just to see how determined you are, and how you behave under pressure. Then I leave you for a few minutes so you have the time to reconsider and leave if willing. That’s a safety measure for you.” He stopped for just a few seconds. “And you – all of you – always check what’s on the other side of the sheet. That’s a safety measure for me.”

“Safety measure?”

“Trust is the basis of the whole deal. If you don’t admit, that you looked at it, it means you’ll keep hiding things later on as well, and I can’t have that.”

“So if I…”

“Yes. If you didn’t correct your statement, we wouldn’t be here right now.” The words sounded ominous even despite the calm tone that Baekhyun used.

“I understand.”

You actually did; the strange aura of yesterday’s meeting finally started to clear out, leaving the simplest facts that all fit into the bigger picture. Yet, you still didn’t know enough. There were more things, more questions, each of which demanded an answer of its own. However, you were still unsure of your stance, and of what Baekhyun had planned for you – for the both of you.

“Will you accept me, then?” you asked finally, breaking through the silence.

“I don’t know yet” he replied in an honest tone, finally reciprocating your gaze. His features were soft, you could tell, he tried not to hurt you with his words. “You’re a nice girl, but I’m not sure if it’ll work out. I need more time. Primarily, I need to get to know you better. And I feel like you need more time, too.”

You nodded slowly.

“Could you, um… tell me more about it?”

“About what I do?”

“Yeah. You didn’t tell me much last time. You mostly only asked questions.”

“True. I may answer some of yours, if you’d like. What are you interested in?”

You cleared your throat; some questions seemed more intrusive than the others and you preferred to leave them for later.

“What would you want to do with me, if we set up a um… a scene?” Is that how you professionally call it? You didn’t remember all that well; you were, in fact, with no experience, only the Internet and your own curiosity to lead you forward – the temptation to explore your interests had been progressing in silence up until now.

“Well, depends on what would be suitable. I do different things with different people. Sometimes, it’s about what they like, and sometimes about what I like, and, the most often, it’s about what we both like. Everyone needs a different approach. I enjoy finding the right approach, and exploring it. It’s different when you start with a virgin, different when you start with a brat, different when you start with someone experienced, different when you start with someone with trauma. The last type is a person I don’t like engaging in. It’s a vulnerable ground and the person often seeks relief instead of therapy. I’m not a therapist. I’m a dominant.”

You took your time to analyze his words and put them all together in your head before you spoke again.

“You wrote something like that on the sheet. That I may have trauma.”

“That’s different,” Baekhyun was quick to elaborate. “Everyone has trauma of sort. Childhood traumas are more common than you think. I meant specifically trauma that comes from similar ground as the one I’m on. It’s not the case for you. According to what you said, you’ve never had any experiences like this and never engaged sexually or romantically.”

Pointing that out hurt a little; yes, so what if you’re 24 years old and a virgin? You had the right to choose your pace. But, you quickly realized, it was your own insecurity poking at you, because Baekhyun sounded anything but judgmental. He didn’t seem particularly impressed either – and you were thankful for that as well. You’ve seen enough men sounding excited when a woman was discovered to be unexperienced. You hated that even more than those who made fun of you; and in the long run, you just learned not to overshare. Telling Baekhyun this truth wasn’t the easiest, so having him say it so casually was definitely weird in your ear.

“However, that’s also a vulnerable point. You don’t know what you’re getting into. It looks different on the screen or in the books than it is in real life. I’m not going to reject you just because you’re new, because everyone’s been at some point. But you must understand, it’s a responsibility, and I don’t want to take one I’m not capable of handling.”

“Have you ever been with someone else like that?”

“With a virgin?”

“…Yeah.”

“Yes. Once. But I didn’t handle it too well back then.”

“What do you mean?”

Baekhyun rubbed his chin, pressing his lips together in slight uneasiness. But you didn’t revoke your question – maybe you should have, for the sake of his comfort, but you felt that the answer wouldn’t be meaningless to you.

“She wanted to be exclusive,” the man finally answered. “I tolerated her for too long. I should have broken the deal as soon as I started seeing red flags, instead of ending up sleeping with her. It made everything only worse.” He spoke quietly, making sure people passing by at times would hear no word. You heard everything clearly, though. “That’s why I’m more picky now. Breaking the deal is not a good thing if it comes from one side. It may leave the other devastated, that’s why I’d rather reduce the risk in advance.”

He looked at your face, seeking understanding and acceptance. You nodded slowly, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible. You didn’t want to add to the pain already displayed on his own. But you appreciated his transparency.

“Does it mean that sex is not always involved?”

“With me, it rarely is” he admitted patiently. “I’m not against it, but I usually do other things. People rarely expect it, and I never pry. Mainly, because in this particular case, I do expect exclusivity. So, as long as no sex is involved, I know some of my subs are dating other people, or even engaging with other doms. However, for safety reasons I demand health checks prior to intercourse, and so on. Not just for me, but because I’m not exclusive myself.” You wondered if his choice of vocabulary was meant to make things less awkward. “However, actual sex is only one of the possibilities. Sexual pleasure that doesn’t involve direct touch may be used as a tool for training, for rewarding and for punishing, even as entertainment… not necessarily to the person it influences. As I said, it depends on who it’s done with. And it may take different forms, too. What’s your stance on that?”

“I don’t feel like I’d be able to as much as undress in front of someone who’s not my doctor” you answered almost instantly, the answer obvious to you, a matter you’ve thought about enough. “Although… well, I suppose it takes time. I’m not against the idea, just… you know.”

Baekhyun only nodded; you glanced at him, feeling a need for any reply that’d soothe you a little.

“I understand. That’s okay.”

You figured it out now; using more formal language made it less embarrassing to listen to. It’s like he tore the words off emotions and left facts only, and you found yourself easing into saying more and more, your embarrassment dissolving as well. No judgments were made.

“Is there anything else you want to know?”

“A lot, to be honest. But I think I know enough for now.”

Right as you said the last words, a sound echoed in the museum, in a soft female voice saying that the museum will close in fifteen minutes.

You took one last glance at the huge painting in front of you, but you felt like, at this point, you wouldn’t find anything new among the random stains and splatters. Baekhyun got up from his seat on the bench and so did you. You spotted him hide a small yawn behind his hand.

The day was coming to an end, and so was your small date – as un-date-ish as it could be.

* * *

Please, reblog if you enjoyed, it'll help me a bunch!

Author's note: hope you're enjoying it so far! Trying to give it a bit sense before more things happen, and, hopefully, this chapter clears it out a little bit. Feel free to talk to me if anything is unclear!

Next (Chapter 2.)

[lailoken]

“Elder (Sambucus nigra), also known as boor or bour tree.

Elder is one of the most enigmatic plants in British folk tradition. On one hand it is feared and associated with WITCHES and on the other it is valued for its protective qualities, as a fly repellent, and for its use in many herbal remedies.

The whole plant hath a narcotic smell; it is not well to sleep under its shade. [Withering, 1776: 186]

[In Leitrim, Waterford and the south of Ireland] the elder or 'bore' tree is believed to have been the tree from which Judas Iscariot hanged himself. The proof of which is the fact that its leaves have an 'ugly smell', and, moreover, that its fruit has since degenerated from its original size and excellent flavour, and become worthless both as to size and taste. [Anon., 1916: 425]

It was said at Beckley that if you burn elder wood you will become bewitched. You never cut it down. In Wootton they say that the elder is a witch tree. You should not mend a wattle hedge with it, as it will give the witches power. If you cut it, it will bleed. [Oxfordshire Women's In- stitute groups, 1950s]

Unlucky to burn Tramman [elder], it is the FAIRIES’ tree. [Lezayre, Isle of Man, c.1975; Manx Folklife Survey]

Normally in the Isle of Man elder is the fairies' tree which is unlucky to cut down, or burn when fallen. I was told in 1992 by a forestry worker of his pleasure that a large elder had blown over into the field adjoining his garden and thus relieved him of the need to find someone willing to remove it. [Union Mills, Isle of Man, October 1993]

Elder flowers—it is alright to pick the flowers for wine or culinary use, but the tree is a friend of witches and the wood should never come into the house. [Ashreigney, Devon, July 1983]

Elder—unlucky to bring either flowers or wood into a house: (a) because it is the witches' tree, (b) because it was believed that Judas Iscariot hanged himself from an elder tree, (c) because if you fall asleep under elder flowers the scent will poison you or you will never wake up. [Driffield, Humber- side, March 1985]

Collecting firewood from the hedges surrounding the cottage and returning happily laden, but being accused of bringing bits of elder into the house—it was considered unlucky to use these to light a fire. [Bow Street, Dyfed, October 1984]

The only unlucky plant which I have heard of is the elder tree, which the old people looked upon as unlucky. As I have heard the old people say, it was unhealthy to have an elder tree growing near the house as it was often noted the inhabitants seemed more prone to TUBERCULOSIS or 'Consumption' as it was known in Ireland in the old days. However, as TB was rampant all over the country at that time, I don't know if the belief would have any significance. My own people however would not cut down an elder bush or burn it no matter how old or rotten it was. Nor allow an elder stick in the house, and it would be an unforgivable act to strike a child or even an animal with one. [Kill Village, Co. Kildare, October 1984]

The family name dies out on the property where the elder grows in the kitchen garden. [Skibbereen, Co. Cork, January 1993]

Do you know the Rollright Stones in Oxfordshire? You can't count them; you never get the same number twice. In the next field there is a big stone called King Arthur, and there are various stones called after his Knights around. There are some elder bushes nearby. We used to go there as children on our bicycles and try to count the stones. We were told that if we picked a flower or a berry from these elderberry bushes we would be turned into stone. We used to dare each other to pick a berry or a flower, but no one ever did. [Mitcham, Surrey, May 1986]

However, in the early part of the nineteenth century:

On Midsummer Eve, when the 'eldern' tree was in blossom, it was a custom for people to come up to the King Stone and stand in a circle. Then the 'eldern' was cut, as it bled 'the King moved his head.' [Evans, 1895: 20]

Sometimes it was thought that wood, berries, or flowers could be safely taken from an elder only if the tree's permission had been sought first.

Hearing one day that a baby in a cottage close to my own was ill, I went across to see what was the matter. Baby appeared right enough, and I said so; but its mother promptly explained. 'It were all along of my maister's thick 'ed; it were in this how: t'rocker cummed off t'cradle, an' he hedn't no more gumption than to mak' a new ’un out on illerwood without axing the Old Lady's leave, an' in coorse she didn't like that, and she came and pinched t'wean that outrageous he were a'most black i' t' face; but I bashed 'un off, an putten an' esh 'un on, an' t'wean is as gallus as owt agin.' This was something quite new to me, and the clue seemed worth following up. So going home I went straight down to my backyard, where old Johnny Holmes was cutting up firewood—‘chopping kindling,' as he would have said. Watching the opportunity, I put a knot of elder-wood in the way and said, 'You are not feared of chopping that are you ?' 'Nay, he replied at once, 'I bain't feared of choppin' him, he bain't wick (alive); but if her were wick I dussn't, not without axin’ the Old Gal's leave, not if it were ever so'.. . (The words to be used are): 'Oh, them's slape enuff.' You just says, 'Owd Gal, give me of thy wood, and Oi will give some of moine, when I graws inter a tree.' [Heanley, 190I: 55]

If you chop an elder tre e or fell it, you should bow three times and say:

Old Woman, Old Woman, Give me some of your wood And when I am dead I'll give you some of mine. [Whitwick, Leicestershire, August 1983]

[Staffordshire, 1930s:] my mother said it was the thing if one wanted blossoms or fruit from an elder tree to say 'Please Mother Elder may I have .. .' [Ponsanooth, Cornwall, November 1993]

In addition to records of elder being inauspicious, there are many rec- ords of it being a beneficial, protective tree.

[In Northumberland] an old man told me that his aunt used to keep a piece of bour tree, or elder, constantly in her kist (chest) to prevent her clothes from malign influence. [Hardy, 1895: 325]

In south Wales it was deemed very dangerous to build any premises on or near the spot where an eldertree stood. In the past an elder planted before the door of a cow-shed or stable protected the cows and horses from witchcraft and sorcery. [Trevelyan, 1909: 103]

[In Scotland elder was] often planted near old crofts and cottages as protection from witches. [Webster, 1978: 342]

[In Guernsey elder] had to be planted as near as possible to the back door, the most used entrance, since it was a sacred tree and a good protection against witchcraft. [McClintock, 1987: 33]

[In Ireland] it is considered lucky to have an elderberry bush grow near your house, especially if it is "self-set'. [Bracknell, Berkshire, August 1984]

Mother used elder leaves to make a pattern on the floor-bricks. Painting around them with red paint. Making the cross with elder leaves. This was an old custom, going back to her grandmother's time, so the custom had to be continued despite the time-consuming nature of the work. [Bow Street, Dyfed, March 1984]

Elder: this was called Boortree... The leaves were boiled and the water used to dose pigs. For this purpose, and because it was supposed to be a protection against LIGHTNING, there was a tree of it at every house. It can still be seen growing in places where there are no houses now, but where houses were years ago. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

Family folklore passed on to me includes . . . one should plant a ROWAN and elder tree and never cut them down, in order to keep witches away. [Parkstone, Dorset, June 1991]

I can remember as a child elder growing around the wooden bottom-of-the-garden 'lavvy' at my uncle's farm near Brentwood, Essex, and many other similar loos with elder adjacent. I was told that the elder would live 'almost for ever', as if one root died off another would spring from a fallen branch or twig. They were treated with 'respect' as they kept away bad magic—no one used the word 'witches'—but the inference was there. [Yafforth, North Yorkshire, January 1990]

More usually elder trees were planted around toilets and other build ings to deter FLIES.

Elder bushes are invariably to be seen outside the dairy windows on the north side of old-fashioned farmhouses in the Midlands. This was done because elder-leaves are supposed to be very objectionable to flies, wasps and other insects, the tree thus provided both shade and protection. For the same reason a switch of elder with leaves on is used when taking or driving a swarm of bees. [N &Q, 11 ser. 12: 489, 1915]

When inspecting a slaughter house [in Cornwall] a summer or two ago, I commented on the absence of flies, and was told that this was due to a large elder bush growing some feet away and that branches of elder in any building would keep flies away. [Peter, 1915: 123]

An elderberry tree was always grown near the house—I think it was to keep flies away. [Didcot, Oxfordshire, February 1991]

According to some friends of mine elderberry bushes were planted by water butts and outside privies so that the smell would keep the flies away. [Horseheath, Cambridgeshire, April 1991]

As a youth my late father worked on the land...Often handling horses it was common practice to tie bunches of elder leaves to the harness to ward off flies. [St Osyth, Essex, February 1989]

My wife, who comes from Northumberland, tells me that her mother used to make up a concoction with elder flower when she was a child. All the family washed their faces in it to keep virulent Northumbrian midges at bay. She remembers it smelling not too pleasant, and tended to keep other children away as well, so she would take the first opportunity to wash it off! [Hexham, Northumberland, June 1988]

About twelve years ago in Girton, Cambridge, a small swarm of bees (apparently known as a 'cast') settled on a plum tree in our garden, about six feet up. A neighbour, Mr C. G. Puck (now 84 years old), a retired shepherd and lifelong beekeeper, came to collect the bees. He removed the queen bee from the swarm and placed her under a small open wooden box inverted on the ground under the tree. He then asked for a sprig of elder and laid this about nine inches above the swarm, saying that the smell of it was disliked by bees, and by the early evening all the bees had moved into the box . . . He had learned of the use of elder in this fashion from his beekeeper father, in his native village of Thriplow, south Cambridgeshire. [Girton, Cambridge, May 1988]

On the Isle of Man:

Each old cottage has a 'trammon', or elderberry tree, outside the door. This is used by the 'Phynodderree' to swing in. He is a kind of faun who can bring much luck, and even helps materially in outside work. [Daily News, 27 January 1926]

[Fairies] liked most of all to swing and play in the elder trees, and these were always thought of as fairy trees in the Isle of Man. There wasn't a house or farm that didn't have its 'tramman' tree planted by the door or in the garden 'for the fairies'. Many of them are still to be seen; the single tree will soon have grown into a thicket, hiding the old ruined house, but a sure sign that a house once stood there . . . When the wind was blowing the branches, it was then that the fairies were believed to be riding the tramman trees, but it was said that they would desert a house or a farm where the trees had been cut down. This must have happened only very rarely: no-one would cut a branch of the tramman, let alone the tree itself, but if it was done the fairies grieved. [Killip, 1975: 35]

Regardless of whether elder is considered to be malevolent or protec- tive, most of the folk beliefs associated with the tree appear to be con- cerned with its protection and preservation. Two quotations from herbalists writing in the 1940s demonstrate the value of the elder tree.

[According to my [g*psy] friend] the healingest tree that on earth do grow be the elder, them sez, and take it all round I should say 'twas. [Quelch, 1941: 78]

[Elder has] the unusual distinction of being useful in every part. [Ransom, 1949: 55]

Thus it is possible that the various folk beliefs associated with elder were due, at least in part, to efforts to protect a valuable resource.

The period when elder flowered was sometimes considered to be a time when the weather was poor. In the Basingstoke area of Hampshire this time was known as the elderbloom winter [Maida Hill, Lon- don, December 1982], while in Cheshire:

Weather prophets say that if the weather breaks while the elder-flowers are coming out, it will be soaking wet (in Cheshire parlance, drabbly) until they fade. [Hole, 1937: 49]

Francis Bacon (1561–1626) recorded: 'They say' WARTS can be removed by rubbing them 'with a Green Elder Sticke and then bury- ing the Sticke to rot in Mucke' [Bacon, 1631: 258]. Similarly:

A 15-year-old girl, writing in 1954, says that her grandfather told her to pick a small twig of elderberry, touch her warts with it, chant the words, “Wart, wart, on my knee, Please go, one, two, three” and put it 'down the toilet'. [Opie, 1959: 315]

Elder is, perhaps, the wild plant most widely used in folk medicine.

Queen of all Forest [of Dean] remedies was 'ellum blow tea'...The flowers were gathered in the spring and hung up to dry in closed paper bags ... in the kitchen ... You dared not sneeze in the winter or down came the bag, a good handful was put in a jug, covered with boiling water, covered with a tea towel, and left to infuse. One had to force this evil-smelling brew down one's throat willy-nilly. I loathed it, and to this day can recall that smell of cats which emanated from it. Poultices of the mixture were used for SPRAINS, aches, etc., in joints, also for boils and 'gathered' fingers—whitlows and so on. It seemed to be a universal panacea; the only use it didn't have was for constipation . . . Elder berries were favoured too; they were boiled up with sugar, the resulting syrup strained, bottled, and used in winter for coughs and colds . . .There is not a Forester alive over the age of 70 who does not know ellum blow tea. [Cinder- ford, Gloucestershire, November 1993]

Elder berries when fried with mutton fat are used for BOILS and ULCERS. [IFCSS MSS 414: 43, Co. Clare]

Elder root when boiled and the water drank supposed to cure RHEUMAT- ISM. [IFCSS MSS 700: 35, Co. Meath]

An infusion of elder flowers in boiling water will alleviate PILES. [Horsted Keynes, West Sussex, February 1991]

A green ointment could be made from the leaves, based on mutton fat, and the creamy white flowers made Elderflower Water for the complexion. The flowers, dried in the sun and stored in a paper bag make a good remedy to break a hard COUGH and bring up phlegm. I always pick and dry some when they are in bloom, put the full of your fingers (one hand) in a mug, pour boiling water over and let it infuse for ten minutes. A little milk or fruit juice can be added. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

For flus and FEVERS

40 oz whiskey bottle. Pick, clean, weigh, one pound ripe elder berries. Delete the strings (most strings anyway) using a fork, and put berries into empty bottle. Add 4 lb sugar. Top up with a bottle (or most of a bottle) of whiskey. Seal well. Store for 3 months and strain. Use strongest spirit. Dose—Strong glass of this 'Elderfire'—add hot water (as hot as possible) and drink. Take 2 or 3 spoons of honey with drink. Repeat each night (or more frequently)–usually two nights is sufficient to clear the flu/fever results guaranteed. [Killarney, Co. Kerry, September 1991]

[My mother, who was 94 when she died in 1987] used to collect elder-flower in the spring, and dried it. In the winter if we had colds or flu, the elderflower was put in a jug covered with boiling water and put on the hob to stew. At night we were given this (strained) with sugar and a few drops of peppermint oil added. We were given a teacup full of this at night, and in the morning we had to drink half a cupful of this cold mixture. It was supposed to sweat out the fever. She used to tell me how she pulled me through PNEUMONIA by poulticing with hot flannel and sips of elderflower tea, day and night. [Hill, Worcestershire, October 1991]

When my three children were small and we had wintery weather (and it can be very cold up here at the foot of the Cairngorms), I made elder-flower wine, and when it was time for them coming from school I had three cups, bowl of sugar, bottle of elderflower wine and the kettle boiling, and I gave them a tody; they never had colds or flu. [Boat-of-Garten, Inverness-shire, November 1991]

Elder flowers and berries are widely collected by makers of homemade wines. The flowers can also be used in cooking [Ó’Ceirin, 1980: o1), and the fruits have been recommended as a substitute for currants [Ransom, 1949: 55]. Elder leaves have been used as a TOBACCO substitute.

Myself, my brother and a friend always smoked elder leaves when money was not available for tailor-made cigarettes. We spent much time in the woodland of Thetford Chase, where on our regular walks we would break down, but not completely snap off, small sprigs of the elder. We found that if we severed the supply of sap completely the leaves on the sprig would dry out resulting in a hot strong smoke. We found that if the leaves remained just slightly damp they were a quite pleasant smoke. It was obviously trial and error, sometimes they remained too wet to burn properly. We would stuff the leaves very lightly into the stems of various umbellifers...We actually prefered these cigarettes to the tailor-made, but they were not available during winter. [West Stow, Suffolk, November 1992]

Elder wood is characterized by its pith, which can be easily removed.

[On Colonsay] boys aspiring to be pipers made chanters of the young branches [of elder], which are full of pith and easily bored. [McNeill, 1910: 130].

Haw-blowers are made by scooping the pith out of an elder branch. Haws are blown through these. [IFCSS MSS 700: 338, Co. Meath]

The people of the parish were able to make toy guns. They got an elder stick about one and a half feet long and scraped out the inside. Then they got a stick about the same length and made it fit into the hole and then the gun was made. [IFCSS MSS 867: 132, Co. Kilkenny]

At the the beginning of the century children in parts of Devon used to make pop-guns' out of elder: they would force a hole through the pith, and then fashion a ram-rod out of HAZEL WOOD. Chewed paper would be rammed down the hollowed elder sticks, and pressed out with considerable force. Great sport ensued. [Lafonte, 1984: 35]

There was another use for the Boor tree in olden times. A suitable length was cut and seasoned, then the white pith in the centre was scraped out, lead was then melted and poured in. When set, this made a good weapon for protection on a journey or out walking at night...My aunt who was born in 1894 remembered one man who had such a stick. [Lenamore, Co. Longford, April 1991]

[In Horsefield, Cambridgeshire] for winter feeding one beekeeper used to make little troughs out of elder wood; he cut pieces about the thickness of a finger and five or six inches long, tapered off one end and removed the pith, and used them for replenishing the bees' honey by inserting this end in the exit hole. [Parsons MSS, 1952]”

—

Oxford Dictionary of Plant-Lore

by Roy Vickery

[tamlinsbedroom]

Chapter 16: Run Away

WARNING: Rape in this chapter a little after the time skip towards the end.

That night, I told Tamlin and Rhys that I’d be in the library reading. That I needed to distract my mind from everything that’s been going on. They seemed to understand, as my drastic change from being a human to this would overwhelm anyone.

While they were talking with Lucien, I planned my escape. I knew that they had spies all around the courts, waiting for the valuable subjects of the high lords to no doubt surrender themselves for the greater good.

I snuck out from the library, through the window that led to the balcony. There was an ivy bush below, and it would—I hoped it would, cushion my 10 foot fall.

I had to be quiet, as I knew faery ears would hear if I made too much of a sound. And so, I swung my leg over the marble balcony, and right down I plummeted into the ivy. It didn’t cushion me as much as I thought it would, I learned. Especially because there was a rock in the tangle of leaves that scraped up my foot. It hurt, but my adrenaline was high. I ignored the throbbing as I began running.

I ran straight into the wood, the thickest part that once I breached would hide me from even faery eyes. Prythian was a scary place to be in at night, Rhys and Tamlin had told me before. I attested to that, as I felt eyes on me. Not eyes of prey, but of predator. I tried to ignore the yellow eyes I saw reflecting back at me in the moonlight as I swiftly kept up my pace.

I heard a branch snap, darting my eyes to the sound. It was a beast, a wolf to be exact. It’s glowing eyes had nothing but malice in them as it paused. I tried to back away slowly, but tripped on a tangle of weeds. The wolf transformed, turning into a man. No, a faery male. He had jet black hair that was cut to his shoulders, and yellow eyes just like the wolf.

“What is the high lord of the night and spring courts little thing doing in these big bad woods?” He smiled like a cat, his white teeth gleaming.

“I-I had to…” I stammered, confused as to if this male was part of the rogue soldier of Hybern’s malevolent plan.

“Ah, of course you did. How noble.” He lunged toward me, grabbing my wrist as he winnowed us to a place I’d never been. I could have sworn I heard a beast roar, and the high lord of the night court scream for me.

I was thrown on a dirt floor, the male that had taken me now gone. When I looked up, several sets of eyes were on me. All were males, most high and few lesser fae from the looks. They cleared a path as black leather boots, shined and polished, came up to me.

“You must be Alanna.” I looked at the male, but not at his eyes. I didn’t have to in order to know who it was. It was that same rogue soldier that crashed through Tamlin’s window, threatening us all before. He got down on a knee, gripping my chin harshly, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Did your high lords not teach you to look others in the eyes when you’re being spoken to?” He gripped tighter. “Answer me, my little whore.” I shook in fear at his words. At that word.

“Please. Please don’t hurt me. You said you wouldn’t if—“ He slapped me across the face with a bruising intensity. I yelped, my hand going up to soothe the sting.

“I do what I want. Trust me.” He stood. “Had I had to go get you myself, your fate would be far more unpleasant than what it’s going to be now.” I didn’t want to know what he meant. I didn’t want to know what plans he had for me.

He gripped me by the collar of my dress, dragging me through the dirt. My hurt leg stung as the dirt got in it. The other faery males laughed and joked as I was drug along.

“Quiet! You’re scaring the poor girl.” The rogue soldier joked, throwing his head back and roaring with laughter. He sat down on a large, metal throne, leaving me at his feet. He looked down at me with a smirk. I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t an attractive male, with his sharp jaw and lean yet toned muscles.

“Get on all fours.” He instructed, with a sharp edge behind his words. I halted, staring back at him with tears in my eyes. What was he going to do? I panicked.

“Don’t make me have to repeat myself.” He warned, motioning for me to do what he asked. Reluctantly, I got on my four shaky limbs. I awaited something awful, but what he did was nothing short of humiliating. He put his feet on top of me. As if I were a useless ottoman. Tears fell down onto the dirt as the laughter from the men faded into nothing. This is what I did. This is what I had to do. I just hoped that my suffering wouldn’t last long, and somehow I’d luck out.

My mates faces flashes in my mind. They were undoubtedly worried out of their minds, trying to conceive a plan to get me out of the mess that I willingly put myself in.

The males legs were heavy. My back and limbs ached, struggling to stay up.

“Having a hard time, pet?” I heard him ask from above me.

“P-please. I can’t…” I mumbled, my voice shaky and tired. To my relief, his legs were off of me, but I was instead yanked up on my feet. He held my hair roughly in his grasp.

“Strip.” He commanded. My eyes widened. Strip?! In front of all of these males that—I couldn’t. I couldn’t possibly—

Before I could think anymore, a blade tore my dress right down the middle, from collar to hem. It fell off of me, exposing my thin, lacy white undergarments. Naturally, I covered my breasts, my cheeks burning red with shame.

“Dance.” He instructed, but not before turning me around and slapping my backside with such force it made me stumble forwards.

“B-but there’s no music.” I tried to reason.

“Did I say dance to music?” He met my gaze. That was lust in his eyes. Pure, malevolent, cruel lust. He looked at me as if to say ‘I dare you to refuse.’

And so, I began swaying my hips, twirling as tears ran down my cheeks. My sobs became my music, and the males around me made disgusting comments, watching my every move.

“I’ll fuck her soon enough.”

“We should gang her and then bash her head in.”

The slurs of speech made me zone out into a world of hate, and I was made to dance until I collapsed.

The last thing I remember was being carried and dumped into a cell, laid atop a straw bed.

❥❥❥

I didn’t know how long I slept, but I didn’t dream. It was an utter blackout, my body needed it.

I was waken up by someone splashing my face with cold water. I wiped it from my face with my dirty hands and looked at the individual who’d done that with a dangerous glare.

I quickly softened my look when I saw that it was the rogue soldier. What the hell was his name? I hated referring to people with things other than their name.

“Rise and shine, my pet.” He tossed the end of what looked to be old soda bread into my cell, landing on the dirt floor. “Eat up, or you’ll regret it later.” He walked off, that cocky smirk still plastered on his stupidly attractive face.

I ripped the bread, chewing it up and swallowing it as fast as I could, trying to ignore the old taste and texture. No water, except what had been dumped on me. How thoughtful.

I laid in my cell, thinking about my mates. Thinking about them fucking me, then treating me like a queen bathing me and coddling me to sleep. I missed them…and it had only been less than a whole day. My ramblings came to a halt as the rogue soldier was back in front of my cell, unlocking it.

He strode in, his tall stature aiding him. He picked me up, throwing me over his shoulder as he walked off with me to gods knows where. I held on to his back tightly, in fear that he would throw me down harshly.

And he did throw me. Except, not onto the floor, but onto a bed. I knew from the looks of the chambers that they were his. Weapons scattered the tents walls, the bedding not as lavish as a high lords, but still quality. I scrambled, hugging me knees to my chest. I was, after all, still nude from when he’d torn my dress in half.

“This is the part where you learn how to be my pet for the rest of your miserable life.” He grabbed my throat tightly, squeezing it as he lowered me down.

To my horror, he crawled in between my legs and began unbuttoning his trousers, his hard member springing out. No-no this could not be happening…this couldn’t—

Without warning, he plunged himself inside of me, no arousal to lube him. The pain was unbearable, like I was being torn in half, the friction burning my walls.

“Stop! Stop! Please—“ He put his fingers in my mouth, down my throat, silencing me of coherent words.

He proceeded to rape me for what felt like hours, as I laid in misery. At least when I ran from my village and those other men had used me, I was knocked out from hitting my head. This…this was horrifying. And I was awake for all of it.

I didn’t know why Tamlin or Rhys couldn’t reach me down our mating bond, but they couldn’t. It was as if a powerful spell had been placed on me, preventing it. So, I prayed. Prayed to the old gods, to the cauldron and mother like the fae, to anyone who would listen.

[gryffindors-weasley]

Petals and Promises

Ron Weasley x Reader

Summary: A spring evening spent with Ron.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: none—fluff, kissing

You must say, the spring season was one that always brought with it a multitude of beauty. Whether it may be the newly blossoming flowers sprinkling colorfully just about everywhere in your slightly overgrown lawn and livening up your house, or the warming temperatures calling for open windows, even the rain showers that arrived whenever they so pleased—you can’t deny how much you love this time of year.

The air was warm yet still brisk enough for a blanket as you lay tucked comfortably within your hammock with Ron, the tattered flannel material draping over the two of you in ruffles of orange and red. It was enough to stave off the chill of the soft breeze that swept over your skin, gentle yet determined to send a shiver through you. Despite that, it brought with it the delightfully sweet scent of the flowers that surround you both, flourishing wildly in the flowerbeds and in the grass. It brought with it the ever so soothing sound as it weaved itself through brilliantly green leaves.

Perhaps the most enamoring thing to be admired out of everything was laying atop your chest, heaps of red hair blowing around softly on his forehead with every gust. The warm sunshine streamed through the branches above you, dancing across your skin, across his flushed cheeks in a golden glow. Ginger lashes curl and splay over the tops of those very cheeks, fluttering each and every time he blinked slowly as he fought valiantly to stay awake. His hand enveloped over top of your own, his grip tightening a fraction each time he needs reminding that you’re still tangled up with him. The unwavering hold on your hand had hindered your ability to turn the pages in your book, but you suppose it was worth the trouble, you knew it was.

It was his idea to come outside and enjoy the weather in the first place, particularly to enjoy it with you, though he simply enjoyed just being with you more than anything else. You knew full well he wouldn’t make it more than ten minutes without drifting off; you were right.

He didn’t entirely fit, his feet dangling over the edge, socks grass-stained and bunched at the ankles. The sunshine and singing of the birds proved to be far more soothing than he’d anticipated, and the way you’d been playing with his hair had him in and out of a slumber. That and the constant tickle of his hair on his face.

Reading the book propped open in your free hand was beginning to become a distracted effort, and you were only distancing yourself from the task the more time that had gone by. The gentle wind had a constant habit of crinkling and creasing your pages each time it’d brushed over them, eliciting an exasperated sigh from you. That, paired with the natural beauty all around you, the setting sun painting the sky in a palette of pinks and oranges; it was reason enough to pull your attention from the pages to elsewhere.

The windows of your sweet little home had been opened to let in the fresh air, the wind pulling the sheer cream curtain over your door blowing outward into daylight as it rests ajar, ruffling freely in the air before fluttering back to the ground for a few moments. Your two cats had wandered their way to the two of you through that very door, sprawled contently underneath your hammock as they relished in the evening sun. Occasionally, they’d paw curiously at Ron’s feet, always drawing a groan from him as he recoiled tighter into you until sleep had its hold on him once more.

You couldn’t have thought of a better way to spend your day if you weren’t honest; it was perfect in all aspects. One might think that the lives of two people with the ability to produce the most powerful of magic would forever lead chaotic lives, and that had been true less than a decade ago. But things were different now.

Magic was still present in your everyday life, it always will be and you would never tire of it. But it was seldom ever used to defend yourselves anymore, never used to harm another. It was used to wash the dishes when you hadn’t felt like it, to startle on another by switching the lights off from another room. It was used to douse each other with water in the backyard in goofy antics before the other could think of something more thrilling as payback. It was used to refill mugs of cocoa and coffee when you hadn’t felt like making anymore, to stir pots on the stove when you were far too caught up in dancing around the kitchen. Ron had learned that one the hard way when he nearly burnt the kitchen down when he’d been far too busy kissing you, admiring you like the lovestruck fool he knew himself to be.

Magic is used after a quidditch match gone wrong, to heal Ron with the most tender of spells and potions as possible. He refuses to go to St. Mungo’s whenever possible, preferring the care of you over anyone else. He claims your magic is much more powerful, though you knew all he’d really been wanting was you.

Magic was used for the fun you’d once imagined it to be as a child. There was far too much hurt and anguish by the hands of that very gift, and the two of you had been determined to use it for good, to use it for the lighthearted ways you’d always loved.

You had a home of your own, filled with moments to be cherished as long as your memory would allow. Filled with dancing in your living room at three o’clock in the morning, and never waking up without each other. To making a mess of the kitchen when baking a cake for the other’s birthday. Of silly anniversaries of things others might consider trivial. It was imperfectly perfect and it was bursting with a warmth and love you’d hoped to have; it was right for the two of you. It was yours.

In time, you felt the tips of his fingers dance tenderly across your wrist and up your arm a few inches more, the gentle touches bringing a soft smile to your face. They trace in unknown shapes for a short while, and unbeknownst to you he’d scrawled invisible ‘I love you’s’ there, his fingers soon splaying over your skin as he grabs your hand once more. You decide then and there that you’d never get any quality reading done beyond that very point, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you close your book and let it fall to the grass below you with a dull thud.

Your other hand brushes through his hair, a bit tangled as your fingers pass through it and you don’t fail to see the way he leans into your touch. Delicate purple flower petals are woven within the ginger locks, cream ones joining in from the two blossoming trees you lay between, and it looked soft and adorable. It was then that he lifted his head and looked at you, your fingers smoothing down his cheek. The smile gracing his lips was nothing short of adoring, and he was still very much groggy with sleep.

“Hey you,” he murmured, a soft laugh leaving his lips at the feeling of his hair sticking to his face. The humidity from that morning’s rainstorm had lingered, curling the ends of his hair.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you beam, a laugh of your own escaping you as he makes his attempts to move.

His efforts were near futile as the hammock swayed and rocked and proved to be quite unforgiving, mere seconds from sending him tumbling out and onto the ground for what wouldn’t be the first time. But he manages somehow to avoid such a clumsy outcome, the swinging he so ungracefully caused now settling to a stop.

“What d’you mean ‘sleepy head’?” He asks, his words sleepily mingling into one another as his laughter fanned warmly across your lips.

The pad of your thumb brushed over his freckled cheek, the one that’d been significantly more pink than the other from having been pressed against you for the better part of an hour. Not to mention the sleep lines imprinted on his skin. You bit the inside of your cheek in an attempt to stifle your inevitable spill of laughter, thumb now swiping over the drool that had not quite dried at the corner of his mouth.

“You’ve been drifting off this whole time, perhaps the puddle of drool on my shirt will jog your memory,” you jest even though you felt tired yourself, his nose scrunching in protest to your words, “or maybe the snores that could be heard through the whole neighborhood.”

Your giggles intensified when he dropped a flurry of kisses to your neck with the full knowledge of just how ticklish it’d been. Giggles that were quickly muffled when he kissed you, his own having hummed against your mouth. His hair tickled against your forehead, brushing lightly against your cheek. He’d been due for a bit of a haircut; his hair had been dipping over his eyes, nearly dusting over his shoulders as it once had done when he was fourteen.

“Must you always tease me?” He mumbles, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile at the sight of yours.

“You make it so easy,” you counter, and he pressed kisses to your cheek. “How could I not?”

“So terribly mean, love,” he sighs, kissing you once more before wedging himself between you and the fabric of the hammock, tugging the flannel blanket up further.

“Yes, but I love you terribly,” you say, your nose bumping his as you look up at him.

The pale pink staining his cheeks is something not from the sunshine on his skin, rather your declaration of love. No matter how often you said it, it would always leave him blushing scarlet—you could say it a hundred times in a row and he’d flush each and every time it fell from your lips. His eyes sparkled blue-green beneath ruffles of ginger, his smile nothing short of beaming.

“I love you an awful lot,” he grins, still sleepy yet still so adoring of you as his eyes flutter closed.

Now it had been your turn to flush a rosy pink, an obvious fact that you tried your hardest to stave off as you leaned up and kissed the underside of his jaw. He tangles his legs with yours once more, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he basks in the very moment with you. In the very way the sun glimmers over you, golden and glowing, shining upon someone who he feels is the embodiment of that very sunshine. He basked in the way the soft pink petals on the trees above you float down in a floral rain. In the way you loved him as wholly as he did you, and he couldn’t quite believe that wonderfully dizzying fact.

You yawn as you nuzzle your face against his t-shirt, picking at a loose string. Somehow, he always smelled of cinnamon, for as long as you could remember he smelled of just that. It was delightfully sweet and so incredibly Ron, and you couldn’t help but feel comforted.

“Have you finished your book?” He asks softly, the fatigue that still remained heavy having him merely hum his words.

“No,” you mumble, “too distracted.”

His chuckle shook you softly, the feeling bringing a smile to your face as you looked up at him. “What?

You narrow your eyes in a playful glare as you look at him, lifting your head from his shoulder. His smile widened at that, a soft gust of wind blowing his hair in his eyes but he hadn’t bothered to move it. “I’ve heard you reread the same line four times in a row.”

His laughter was immediate to trail after his words, more so when you swatted his chest. He tipped his head back, the action ruffling his hair entirely as he found your expression humorous. It was rather hard to stay mad at him, however, not with the way he looked at you so fondly and not that you were even mad to begin with. You exhale a sigh, finding yourself looking at him the same despite your reddened cheeks upon mention of your blunder. It must have occurred when he’d held your hand.

You drop your head to his shoulder once more, unable to fight your smile. “Not my fault.”

His response is another bout of soft laughter, and no doubt the most beaming of smiles. “Whatever you say, love.”

The same fatigue you had teased him for just moments prior had held its grip on you, your laughter dwindling as your eyelids grow heavy. You hum in a late acknowledgement to what he’d said, “exactly that.”

You splay your hand across his chest, interlocking your pinky with his. His smile went unseen by you, one of awe and knowing all the same. He knew what that meant. It was a promise as most would think of it as, a silent ‘I love you’ as the two of you know it to be. He knew exactly the day it first happened. At the Burrow under the light of the stars, he’d told you he loved you for the very first time. It was that night that you wrapped your pinky around his, joined hands settled in the grass between you. With it accompanied the very three words that made his heart race and his cheeks flush. It was then, that very first time that night, that it became an unspoken action worth a thousand words.

So he smiles, he curls his pinky around yours and he smiles. Your own grin is just as unseen as his, but you didn’t need to see each other to know of it.

“I love you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, to your nose when you look at him.

“I love you,” you whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth in a tired attempt of a kiss. His smile was soft, and he still felt the tingle of your kiss as if it was the first time. He’s quite sure it’ll always feel that way. He knows it.

It was then that you tuck yourself against him, in the crook of his neck as the tattered flannel blanket settles warmly over top you both, the spring breeze brushing over your cheeks. You lay cradled within the canvas hammock that enveloped the both of you nearly in a cocoon. Your drowsiness was too hard to ignore by then, your eyes fluttering closed as his cheek pressed to the top of your head.

You were perfectly content to sleep there forever in the very arms, the very place you felt safest in. It was beautiful with the setting sun and the chirping of the birds. With petals falling in your hair and pinkies interlocked in a promise.

—

Tags: @vogueweasley @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @anchoeritic @ch0colatefr0gs @harrysweasleys @snitches-at-dawn @awritingtree @writeroutoftime