#instead of being overly literal with the prompt today

[phoenixmetaphor]

Oct 5 - RE:tober - weaponless

[voorice-corp]

The Vicquisition, Translated

so, I keep going on and on about how I'm going to do a new, and revised translation of Phantom Of The G4, given that I am fluently bilingual in both Chinese and English. well, today I had the urge to translate... a certain segment of the game, both to see what I'm getting myself into, and to confirm the things I've heard it means for a certain character. that, of course, being my dearly beloved, Victor. specifically, his only appearance in POTG4 where he asks Vincent and Vanora a series of questions in order to let them pass deeper into the Myers facility.

I don't have the game itself, yet. because I abide by the rules to play VTSOM first. instead, I found a video of someone's playthrough of it - the audio is in Chinese, and not all dialogue options are covered. but in the meantime, this is quite a lot...

without further ado, my translation, notes and other commentary below the cut. Victor's lines are in red, Vincent's in purple, and Vanora's in pink.

想要我讓開很簡單。你只需要回答一些我的問題。 If you want me to make way, it’s very easy. You just need to answer some of my questions.

the player is given a yes/no prompt, and selects yes

很好。 Very good.

我們上次見面是什麼時候了，文森？ When was the last time we met, Vincent?

你以為我會記得這種事？真是自作多情。 You think that I’d remember this sort of thing? What wishful thinking. (Note: The second sentence was a bit difficult to translate bc there’s several meanings to this phrase 自作多情 (literally "self-make-many-feelings"), from being overly sentimental to self-flattery/imagining yourself as everyone’s favourite person)

是這樣嗎？ Is that so?

難道你不記得你我引以為傲的那件事了？我們那時候到達的是任何人都無比渴求的巔峰。 Could it be that you don’t remember what we were so proud of? What we had reached then was a peak everyone had been longing for.

而你卻說過，財富、知識、榮耀… And still, you have said: wealth, knowledge, glory...

player is given 3 options to finish his sentence: 是每個人都渴求的。 "… are what everyone longs for." 都毫無意義。 "… are completely and utterly meaningless." 不過是權力幾種類型。 "… are just various forms of power."

the player picks the second option

你這句話就已經背叛了來這裡的初衷了。 What you said here goes against your original intention to come here.

我隱約記得，文森·埃奇沃思從來不會後悔。 From what I vaguely remember, Vincent Edgeworth never, ever regrets.

最可怕的敵人，就是沒有堅強的信念。而能夠被輕易擊敗的人根本不配存在於這個世界上。 The scariest enemy, is to lack strong belief. And people who can be easily defeated are not worthy of existing upon this world.

he kills you with one smack of his metal hand. game over, go back to previous save…

this time the player picks the third option of above

而我們已經擁有了這些，甚至更多。 And we already had these, if not even more.

我們？別開玩笑了。 "We?" Stop joking around.

財富、知識、榮耀。沒有我哪一個你能保住？ Wealth, knowledge, glory. Without me, which one could you have kept?

沒記錯的話，你還因為此時欠在下一瓶酒。 If I’m not remembering wrong, you still owe me the next bottle of alcohol for this. (Note: In Chinese, the word they use can both specifically refer to wine, and all kinds of alchohol in general.)

一如既往的自負，你還是嗜馬丁尼如命？ Conceited as always, and still so fond of/addicted to martini like your life depends on it? (Note: Is the "addiction" literal or metaphorical? Maybe both? Truly we will never know.)

這還需要在下解釋？ Do I still have to explain this further?

的確，好的基酒對一杯馬丁尼十分重要。 Indeed, a good base spirit is essential for a martini.

3 dialogue options for the player again, all with the following structure: 所以我當然不會放過到手的頂級⋯。 "And so, of course I will always have some top tier [option below] on hand." 杜松子酒 gin (Note: Literally "juniper berry wine" which I didn’t recognise at first bc usually I see it written as 琴酒 which reflects it phonetically) 白蘭地 brandy 伏特加 vodka

the player picks the third option

伏特加？你以為自己是在調製什麼？ Vodka? Just what do you think you are mixing here?

player gets two options to answer him with: 一杯血腥瑪麗。 A Bloody Mary. 一杯激情海岸。 A "Passion Coast". (Note: I've done some rudimentary research on cocktails, but have never heard of something with a name like this. If anyone knows what this is, I'd appreciate the help. EDIT: a friend of mine on discord has informed me that it's most likely referring to the cocktail called Sex On The Beach)

player picks first option

血腥瑪麗？人道，「惟有經��諸多苦難才能懂的苦難賦予你的意義」。 Bloody Mary? People say, "only by experiencing much suffering can you understand the meaning the suffering bestowed upon you."

虛假的苦難，虛假的血腥。這和你的過去比起來算什麼？ False suffering, false blood. How does this even compare to your past?

我親愛的文森，你都已經忘記了你所承受的一切嗎？���你的存在就沒有意義了嗎？ My dear Vincent, have you forgotten all that you’ve had to go through? And now your existence no longer has meaning?

he kills you, game over, go back to previous save

player picks vodka again and then second option of above

激情海岸？一向只喜歡乾身酒的你，怎麼可能喝這些果汁飲品呢。 Passion Coast? You’ve always only liked dry cocktails, how could you drink this kind of fruity/juice based beverage?

and again, he kills you. bro, stop judging people's taste in drinks 😭

player picks gin for the original question

這個自然。等我們從這個鬼地方出去，我給你便是。 Naturally. Once we get out of this damn/accursed place, I’ll give you some.

慢著，那件事指的是什麼？ Wait a second, what do you mean by "that thing/event/incident" ? (Note: I take it she’s referring to the above "what we were so proud of" thing)

薇諾拉，「好奇心是大腦貪求的慾望」。慾念太強對身體可不好呢。 Vanora, curiosity is a desire the brain craves. And to desire for it too strongly is not good for the body.

看來你的這位同伴想知道的格外多呢。 Looks like this companion of yours knows quite a lot.

作為一名律師，我能做的僅僅只能讓人摒棄自己的信仰罷了。她的好奇心與我無關。 As a lawyer, all I can do is make people abandon their own beliefs. Her curiosity has nothing to do with me.

沒想到你也有無能為力的一天？ And you didn’t think you’d also have a day where you’d be powerless?

對方可是要以妨害執行公務的罪名將我逮捕呢，你說是吧，薇諾拉女士？ The other side/party wants to capture me for interfering with official duties. Isn’t that so, Miss/Lady Vanora?

哈哈哈。堂堂梅爾斯職業律師居然會因此害怕？ Hahaha. The dignified professional lawyer of Myers is scared of this?

再厲害也不過是一個俗人，出生起就已經被政府的一紙契約束縛著了。 No matter how mighty one is they are still a common person, already bound by a government contract at birth.

這麼說來，我突然想起你當年引���的一句話。不帶劍的��約不過是一紙空文… What you said, suddenly reminds me of something you said back then. A contract without a sword, is simply a blank paper.

player is given 3 options now, to respond: 而政府的職責，便是化身為此劍。 And the government’s duty is to manifest as this sword. 它毫無力量去保障任何人的安全。 It has absolutely no power to protect anyone’s safety. 只有突破這本不存在的枷鎖，才能真正跳出羊圈。 Only by breaking these nonexistent shackles can one truly jump out of the sheepfold.

player picks the third option

跳出羊圈？真是荒謬。 "Jump out of the sheepfold?" How ridiculous.

有一些人的存在，是註定不能被救贖的。 Some people’s existences are doomed to never be redeemed.

and again he kills you, because dragon cult ahh belief

player picks the first option

…真是有趣的答案。 … what an interesting/funny answer. (Note: Yes, in Chinese we use the same word for both of these)

不過我倒還記得一句話，地獄是太晚發覺的真相。那麼恭喜你獲得一張免費的地獄門票。 However, this reminds me of another saying, "hell is a truth/reality discovered too late." And so, congratulations on earning a free ticket to hell.

this time he isn't just killing you, he's SLAYING because holy shit if that isn't badass I don't know what is

player picks the remaining second option

話雖如此，你可是從來沒有怕過。 You say this, but you’ve never been afraid of it before.

我們都是遊走在劍鋒的人，這一點你沒資格說我。 We’re all people who walk on the point of a sword, you have no right to tell me this.

那你回到此地是為了什麼？ Then why did you come back to this place?

and again, 3 dialogue options for the player 任何東西都有一種特有的功能，某種工作或許只有它能做。 Everything has a unique function, and there are some jobs that only it can do. 無論這個漩渦有多令人絕望，我總是要走這一遭的。 No matter how hopeless this whirlpool/spiral/vortex will make me, I was always going to walk this path. 在下解釋過了是受人所迫。 I’ve explained that I was forced to do this.

player picks the third option

受人所迫？ "Forced?"

文森，任何人用這個��口我都會半信半疑一下。至於你，我是絕對不會信的。 Vincent, everyone who uses this excuse, I will doubt (literally, "half-believe-half-suspect") for a moment. And in your case, I would never believe it.

and he kills you. we are so close to the end, yet so far…

player picks the first option, which becomes slightly modified for Vincent to say

任何東西都有一屬於它自己的功能。某種工作或許只有它能做，甚至比其他人更好。 Everything has its own function. There are some jobs that only it can do, sometimes better than other people, even.

真正的贏家只會讓這件東西為他所用，並讓他物超所值。弱肉強食，我只是不想看庸人螳臂擋車罷了。 True winners will only use this thing for their own ends, and give it an excellent value. The weak are meat and the strong eat, I just don’t want to see mediocre people biting off more than they can chew. (Note: The phrase they used here, 螳臂擋車, literally translates to "a mantis using its arm to block a cart", meaning to underestimate what you’re taking on)

所以，請問你問完了嗎？你已經浪費了我太多的時間了。 So, may I please ask if you’re done asking? You’ve already wasted far too much of my time.

確實。你做的很好，文森。我想，我也沒什麼好多說的了。 Indeed. You did very well, Vincent. I think I don’t have anything more to say either.

he moves out of Vincent and Vanora’s way

那就祝你們好運了。 Then I wish you two good luck.

[subtletruamadumping]

A Pitch Black Room, A Velvet Ribbon, A Secret Box

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This was my first year doing NaNoWriMo. It started as a writing prompt (the title is literally just the prompt) and it's a collection of short stories from many different peoples' perspectives linked by various objects. I won this year but never looked back at it. In fact, I am kind of embarrassed by it but I try to remind myself I was literally a child. Instead of being broken up into chapters, it's broken into characters.

Written in November 2016

______________________________________________________________

Part 2, Lilianne

Sloan had “friends”. Lilianne was one of them. She was a little ashamed about this forced and completely unrealistic relationship, but it was a necessity for middle school. You see, if you weren’t “friends” with Sloan Harlow, the most popular girl in school, you would never be popular yourself. Not to mention, Sloan’s parents were, like, uber rich. There was almost nothing they wouldn’t buy for her. The “friendship” had certain perks that Lilianne couldn’t bring herself to part with. Like the time each of the “friends” had gotten a very nice charm bracelet. Of course, Sloan dictated what charms would be allowed on said bracelet to help identify the “friends”. Sloan had so many “friends” she couldn’t remember then and, therefore, had to tag them with expensive jewelry. Lilianne wanted to be that popular. Well, she wanted to be that rich, too, but she could do something about being popular. She couldn’t change her wealth.

Sloan’s birthday had been on Saturday, so Lilianne knew she needed to get her something. She was slowly trying to work her way up the social ladder. She needed Sloan to know who she was. She also needed her to like her. It was a harder process than one might imagine, especially since Lilianne wasn’t the only one trying to get on Sloan’s radiar. Lilianne needed to stick out. She needed to be remembered. She needed to get into Sloan’s inner circle: the group that she hung out with on a regular basis. The people she took to the movies or shopping. Lilianne needed to be one of those people.

She dropped into her first class: French. Sloan sat next to her in French. She claimed it was because they were such great “friends”, but Lilianne knew it was because she was good at French. Sloan was terrible at it. If it wasn’t for Lilianne, she would probably be failing the class right now. Lilianne whispered answers to her or passed her notes all of class, making Sloan able to keep her head just above the water. Sloan didn’t mind a C, but she had this strange fear of actually failing a class. She probably just didn’t want to get held back a year. That would be embarrassing.

“Morning, Lily.” Sloan called, making Lilianne look up. She came over to her desk with a smile wearing a new ribbon in her hair. She probably got it for her birthday. Lilianne wondered how much it had cost her parents.

“Hey, Sloan.” Lilianne replied as Sloan sat in her chair “I got you something for your birthday.”

“Oh, I can’t believe you remembered!” Sloan said, smiling broadly and flashing her perfect teeth.

“Here,” Lilianne said, pulling out a broach from her backpack. It had taken her allowances for the past two months, but she was pretty sure she was making a good investment.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Sloan cried, taking it “It’s absolutely lovely! Thank you so much, Lily.”

“Uh, it’s actually Lilianne.” She said quietly. Sloan didn’t seem to hear, though, as she attached the broach to her shirt.

“You know, you’re the first person who’s given me a present today.” Sloan said after she made sure the broach was straight.

“Really?” Lilianne asked “That’s probably because school just started.”

“No, no. I’m absolutely sure it’s because everyone else has forgotten about it.” Sloan said with an overly dramatic sigh “I almost forgot myself, after all.”

“I really don’t think anyone’s forgotten about your birthday.” Lilianne said “It was just over the weekend and not everyone had had a chance to see you, yet.”

“I suppose.” Sloan sighed “But, all the same, you were the first one. You are a really great friend, Lily.”

“Sure, whatever.” Lilianne said “I just wanted to get you something for your birthday.”

“Since you were the first, I have a present for you, too.” Sloan said, reaching down for her backpack. This piqued Lilianne’s interest. Did this mean Sloan was letting her into the group? She waited impatiently for Sloan to fish out whatever was in her backpack. To Lilianne’s surprise, she pulled out a little box.

“Here, take this jewelry box for your charm bracelet.” Sloan said as she handed her the box “I want to make sure the symbol of our friendship never gets lost.”

“Sloan, it’s beautiful.” Lilianne gasped, once again wondering how much her parents had paid for it.

“I insist you have it.” Sloan said “It’ll be a reminder that you were the first one to remember my birthday.”

“Oh, thank you.” Lilianne said, securely storing it in her own backpack.

“Do take care of that box.” Sloan said “My grandmother gave it to me three days before she passed away.”

“I will.”

“It means a great deal to me.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“I simply couldn’t bear it if I knew something would happen to it.”

“Would you like it back, then?” Lilianne asked flatly.

“Oh, no, no, no, no.” Sloan cried “It must be yours.”

“Alright, then.” Lilianne said “I’ll make sure it’s put in a special place.”

“Thank you.” Sloan said, grasping Lilianne’s hands “I’m glad to know grandmother’s memory will live on elsewhere.”

“Yeah, right.” Lilianne said weakly, pulling her hands away “Did you do your French homework?”

“On my birthday?” Sloan gasped, clearly appalled at the idea.

“Right, I guess that would be ridiculous.” Lilianne said pulling out her own. Sloan always came up with an excuse to not do her homework.

“You’ll help me again, won’t you?” Sloan asked, pulling out her blank worksheet.

“Yeah, sure. We just have to do it before class starts.”

~*~

Lilianne’s mother didn’t like Sloan. Not one bit. She especially didn’t like it when Sloan gave things to Lilianne. She thought it was ridiculous that she had gotten them all bracelets and spent so much money on her “friends”. But, her mother had also not been popular in school. She said being popular was useless and a bad reason to be friends with someone. Lilianne didn’t pay her much mind, though. If she had been popular in school, she would know.

And it turned out that almost no one had forgotten Sloan’s birthday and many gifts had been passed to her throughout the day. She was positively bubbling over with happiness. Her mom probably didn’t mind when her “friends” gave her things. It was probably expected by this point. Sloan’s mom had probably been the popular one in her class. But, her mom was not Lilianne’s mom. She would have to keep the box out of sight of her mom, otherwise she'd make Lilianne return it. She couldn’t have that. She smuggled it into the house in her backpack.

“How was school today?” Her mother asked when she walked through the living room.

“Good.” Lilianne replied “It was Sloan’s birthday on Saturday, so there was a lot of excitement.”

“I don’t think there should be more excitement over one birthday than any other.” Her mother said flatly “What makes Sloan’s birthday more special than your other friends?”

“She’s Sloan.” Lilianne said simply. Her mother sighed, but didn’t press. Lilianne went to her room in the back of the house, dropping her backpack on her bed. She closed the door, then brought out the secret box.

It really was very pretty. It was made of dark wood that had a reddish tint to it. It had curved engravings that looked like vines to Lilianne. It even had a little bronze clasp to keep the lid secured. Even the bottom was painted with little rosebuds. It was a wonder to behold. Lilianne ran her fingers over it, enjoying this very small fraction of the riches Sloan had in her bedroom. How could she just give a thing like this away? She knew it wasn’t really her grandmother’s. She always talked about the places her grandmothers were going to take her on vacation. Yes, both of them. So, they were both still alive. She had lied about the origin of the box, but it was still a beauty. What would make her want to give it up?

The only thing Lilianne could come up with was that she had gotten a better one for her birthday. She had given away the “lesser” one so that she could bask in the glorious “better” box. Lilianne didn’t mind having it, though. There was nothing “less” about it to her. She wasn’t going to put the bracelet in it, though. No, she was going to wear that all the time, so there was no reason to put it in a secret box. However, it looked like it would be perfect for the poems she was writing.

Lilianne was a poet, though no one knew it. She didn’t like people to read her work, much less actually know she had works. She was really worried they were terrible, but she loved to write them. It made her feel good to put her thoughts and emotions down on paper. The constrictions of the rhymes and meter made it a puzzle for her to figure out a way to say what she wanted to within the parameters. It was a challenge within herself. She used her poetry to express herself so she wouldn’t have to outloud. It was amazing to her that more people didn’t do it, too.

She carried the box over to her desk. She put it down and opened one of the drawers. She moved a few journals and packs of markers out of the way. Underneath these was her legacy. She pulled out the stack of papers. Her poems. She carefully put everything back into the drawer and closed it, then sat in the chair in front of her desk. She looked over each of the poems, smiled a little, then folded it up and placed it gently in the secret box. It took her longer than she was expecting. She didn’t realize she had so many poems. When she had finished placing the last one in the box, she carefully stored it under the desk, out of sight from anyone who might come into the room. She glanced at the clock. She didn’t have much time to finish her homework, now. She’d have to stay up a little later than she had hoped.

“Lilianne! Dinner!” Her mother called. She would have to stay up really late.

~*~        

The box remained a secret. It also remained a place for her poems. It was almost overflowing when she finally moved out of her childhood home. She was all grown up, now. She was ready to face the wide world on her own. Of course, she took the secret box with her when she left. She just knew that she would do something with the poems one day. She just needed to wait a little longer. It wasn’t the right time, yet. Lilianne had a stroke of luck. She was able to move into a nice apartment easily and had a good job to pay for it. No, the job had nothing to do with poetry, but that would come soon enough. As for now, the secret box was put away in a closet, waiting for its time.

[seeingteacupsindragons]

It is Moriarthree week (?? I guess?) and because my inbox is so quiet lately, I have to think of ideas for my own content (how rude), and I think I can make today's prompt (????) into a meta idea.

Sibling Bonding! Let's go.

Let's go, in fact, all the way back to chapter two, when Albert takes time off work to help Louis and Albert move into their manor in Durham. Albert does not live there and I'm not sure he's ever actually even there after his little brothers are all moved in; most of the plot takes place in London, where he canonically lives, and it's mentioned he sees William (and accordingly, Louis) maybe once or twice a month (in The Final Problem). And yet, despite there not being any real plans to carry out their murder plot from Durham, or any actual intention yet of starting their plot in earnest, Albert comes and helps them move in because that's the brotherly thing to do!

I will say that later it's not totally clear when this chapter takes place. If he's just moving to Durham, it would make sense for Liam to be 17 and just having gotten his professorship. And it might make sense for Albert to help…literal children move in. But they don't actually look that young in any other respect, William actually appears in that chapter to have already had his job while living…elsewhere? (Sir, it is a multi-hour train ride from London to Durham; what is happening?). And it would require an extra time skip that's not indicated and it would fuck up the years.

So we're just going to have to assume they've actually known each other for 14 years already and the timeline is just a bit of mess yet again.

It's been 13 years since we last saw them, and things have changed. Albert has really been fully integrated into the sibling trio by then. So this chapter has to do a lot of work. Since their relationship is so critical to and such a huge emotional component of the story, it needs to be established very early. And I actually think the way it's done here is significantly more effective than massive exposition. It's just some small details, the careful interactions and inside jokes and the well-oiled reactions to each other's habits. There's not much heavy exposition. We find out more about their middling years together later, with Jack and even Milverton.

But in chapter two, we see this wealth of years between them in small details and not stories. We see Albert's overly detailed map, which William is just politely exasperated about and knew to expect. We hear Louis talk about Albert's fastidiousness as common knowledge among the brothers, a sign they've lived closely together for a long time, since Albert's bio family never seemed to pick up on it. We hear about Albert having made his excuses to the military to give his brothers a hand and see where they're going to be living. We see them comfortable, with sleeves rolled up, working together on domestic tasks before they work together on murderous tasks again. They work together even on something as simple as cleaning as an effective team.

But those little details, shown right up front, kind of establish the same thing as William liking the Fibonacci sequence and Shakespeare do. They actually show the lived in relationship instead of telling us what it is. They give us small details to find cute and which aren't overwhelming when actual plot is supposed to be happening. A lot of those details upfront grow into something else later.

And, apparently, Louis even hates grapefruit, but eats it for their plan. Cute.

[ah0rmone]

dazai osamu x fem! reader

warnings: nsfw, minors, dni! dubcon if you squint because the reader finds dazai annoying but attractive, non-consensual touching (at first), enemies/rivals to fuck buddies I guess?, fingering, vaginal penetration.

there are literally two self-defence techniques from here and here

"Why it has to be you?" you grumbled looking at the person who stood in front of you.

"Oh, who else would you like to see as your teacher? Kunikida-kun who's doing everything according to instructions, even fighting? Ranpo-kun who won't lift a finger unless it's a murder case? Or Tanizaki-kun who's always followed by Naomi-chan?"

The obnoxious man in front of you was called Osamu Dazai and, to be fair, you'd actually prefer any other agency member over him. Sure, he definitely had combat experience and, probably, wasn't that bad at teaching, given that Atsushi was still following him. But something about him was off and you didn't like it. Nor that you had any choice, Dazai was there for a reason and that reason was Fukuzawa's order.

"Whatever," you sighed. "Can we get to it already?"

Today was the day when you were supposed to learn some self-defence techniques. Your ability wasn't really of a combat type, so you never participated in fights but it didn't mean that you had a zero possibility of running into problems. It was your own request to be taught how to protect yourself.

However, you didn't feel quite confident at all. You genuinely hated conflicts and tended to avoid people, so all of this was a somewhat essential but still itchy experience. Your sporty shorts and a skintight top wasn't helping the situation either. Especially, since a person with who you were going to get quite close physically was a rather attractive young man. You and Dazai weren't that close, just colleagues who barely communicated. For you he was just as attractive as he was annoying - you wouldn't mind having a fling with him but nothing more. Maybe it was the way he carried himself: overly cheerful, loud and noisy. Or maybe it was the things he was hiding: his true mischievous, manipulative personality.

Taking a deep breath you reminded yourself that it was your idea, something that your survival depended on and that you just had to get over it.

"Usually you're not the one who fights, y/n-chan. So what are we doing here?" Dazai asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

His eyes were gleaming with a vicious sparkle. Your power imbalance was uncomfortable to you. You shrugged, the feeling that he was a big cat and you were his meal strongly sat in your guts.

"I'm here to learn how to defend myself. Like some easy techniques. I'm not very strong, keep it in mind," you reminded with a well-controlled flat voice but some notes of irritation would have been apparent even to the densest person.

Osamu didn't answer, instead, he let his fake smile turn into a smirk. For a moment the room fell into silence and you could swear that your heart was beating too loud. Both of you just stared at each other for some seconds until the smile returned on Dazai's lips and the man joyfully clapped.

"Okay, gotcha! First of all," he took a step closer. "The most important thing in fighting is a stable stance. Stand like this," he put the left leg forward and motioned you to follow him.

Hesitantly you mirrored his stance, the feeling of embarrassment washing over you. It wasn't even the physical activity that you hated but the way Dazai was gazing at you. Predatory eyes were gliding over your skin like he was analysing your tiniest movements. Like he was about to pounce.

Just as you anticipated, once you've finished copying him, Osamu clicked his tongue and stood up.

"No, y/n-chan, you're doing it wrong."

You were about to argue but Dazai was already behind you. Suddenly painfully aware of the warmth of his body you tried to move from him but he was quick to put a hand on your hip.

"Let me help you," his hot breath ran over the shell of your ear making you flinch a little.

While you were contemplating whether you should allow him to be that close, Dazai had already brushed his palm down your leg. Now he was standing next to you, your bodies touching.

"There," he encouraged, moving your leg a little further by the back of your knee. His other hand was still placed on your hip and such a position was taking away any personal space you had before.

"Thanks," you muttered, feeling the light smell of his cologne.

"Now you're standing rather steady, aren't you?" he beamed with his hand still on your leg.

"Ah, yeah," you muttered, grabbing him by the wrist and pushing it off yourself then taking a step back. "Guess, we can move to the actual stuff now."

"Y/n-chan!" Dazai exclaimed. "The stance is very important, I didn't show it for fun!"

You saw the man's lips curl into a pout but either than that he didn't display any sign of irritation by you pushing him away. Keeping that in mind you decided that even though he might not have any ill intentions you should stay on guard.

Something dropped behind the door and as you inverted your gaze to the sound you felt your hair being grabbed.

"What," you didn't even have the chance to end the question instantly being pushed to the wall.

Your colleague's right hand was holding firmly your hair, the other one gripping your waist. You tried to push back, but to no avail - his whole body was pushing you to the wall.

"Dazai," you growled.

"Too bad, y/n-chan," he cooed. "How can you protect yourself when you have such a short attention span? Look at you - one move and you're helpless."

The sting of resentment piercing through your heart encouraged you to grumble through the teeth:

"I told you I'm weak."

"And stupid apparently," he gibbed.

"Listen," you tried to free yourself but instead just shook your hips clumsily. "If you came here just to insult me, let's end it, I'll ask Fukuzawa-san to send someone else," voice full with venom, you wanted to be as far from Dazai as possible but instead felt with dread as your hips bucked into his. You jolted forward fighting for the tiniest bit of space.

If Dazai noticed, he didn't show it as there was no reaction whatsoever. However, your little touch wasn't the only thing he ignored:

"Let me instead show you how to deflect it," he proposed, paying no heed to your words.

He backed up and you got a chance to glance at him with unhidden irritation. He met your gaze with a cheesy smile like he wasn't a person degrading you a couple of seconds ago. However, giving it a little bit more thought you exhaled and nodded. After all, you should've picked up something from this lesson, not just the revelation that Dazai was a total dick and you wouldn't want him to be near you ever again.

You moved from the wall and this time he gripped your hair slowly.

"What you want to do now is to grab my hand by both of yours, then stand back to the stance I showed you earlier, turn underneath the arm, so that you twist it and when the person lets go, just bolt. Got it?"

You hummed in acknowledgement. Perhaps it wasn't that difficult. Perhaps, at the end of the day, the lesson would be fruitful.

"Try it then," he prompted and then tugged at your hair lightly.

Following his instructions, you grabbed his hand and as you were about to go underneath his arm, he spun you. His arm was firmly holding your throat.

"No, y/n-chan, I've told you your stance was wrong," he whined. "Let me show you again."

"What just happened?" you asked confusedly but he already was spreading your legs.

Osamu didn't answer, too busy putting you in the right stance. And you tried your best to concentrate on how your legs were placed instead of his fingers brushing over your ass a couple of times, once getting a little bit too close to your clothed vagina.

"Just like this," he said and his hand slid up from your knee to your waist getting under the top a little.

From your point of view, the skinship was completely irrelevant but you decided to keep your sharky comments to yourself. For now, you were going to follow his instructions and maybe you could avoid the conflict.

Maybe not.

This time around when you were trying to deflect his arm, once again he outpowered you. You cursed as he said with disappointment in his voice (you were pretty sure it was the fake one, he was enjoying it, that bastard):

"You're too slow, y/n-chan. Do you think attackers would just stand there and watch as you crawl your way out of their grip as a turtle in slow-mo?"

"Dazai, I'd appreciate it if you-"

"Again," he cut you harshly, puppeting you around like you were nothing but a doll.

His attitude towards you was so demoralizing you were fighting the urge to end it here and there. Losing all the motivation and looking exhausted, you tried to go through the motion again but Dazai wasn't having it.

"Hm, y/n-chan, kinda feels like you're not trying hard enough. Should I give you a motivation boost?" he exclaimed cheerfully but before you could say that he should go fuck himself he had already pushed you to the wall. Again.

You were expecting harsh words pouring from his mouth, but instead, it was the kisses as he roughly pulled your hair baring your neck for him. The hot tongue travelled from your shoulder to the globe of your ear, prompting you to jolt. Once again you attempted to push him away but could barely move. His left hand was pinning your wrist and his right one was painfully tagging at your hair, cranking your head to the side.

"Dazai," you wanted to let him know that you understood his intentions but he needed to stop when a not so gentle bite quickly shut you up.

He was licking and nipping leaving hickeys at your poor neck. You were squirming and whirling under his touch not giving up yet, so he thrust his hips into yours. There was no way you could keep any sounds in, so a whiny moan escaped your lips. You felt Dazai stopping, a satisfied smirk on his lips, then without saying a word, he continued torturing your sensitive neck. Two things were clear to you: a strong lust was taking over your body which meant that you were slowly losing yourself and that Dazai had just started playing with you, there were more to come.

Dazai. Dazai! Realising who was the man behind you, you tried to gain back control. Osamu was just being a bully, whywere you letting him see you in such a state? He certainly didn't deserve nor your moans, nor your hips grinding his.

You were thinking this but it took everything in you to not just give in to his touch. While you were having an internal battle, Dazai pulled away with a loud pop.

"Five."

"Five what?" you mewled weakly.

"There are five hickeys on your neck," Dazai murmured. "You look so good, all red and moaning. When you can't even do anything. You've been definitely enjoying it, sure you still want to continue learning self-defence techniques?"

You widened your eyes at his words.

"Excuse me?!" you exploded. "What the hell are you implying?!"

With all force, you shoved him in the side with an elbow. Dazai hissed and even though the attack was fairly weak he let go.

"I mean, no kink-shaming," he put hands in the air surrendering.

"What's your problem?!"

It was hard for you to overcome your desire of slapping him but no way in hell you were staying in one room with him for another second. You bolted but Dazai was quicker, catching your hand.

"Where're you going? For a moment there I thought you didn't agree and wanted to continue," he quipped. "Come on, that was just one technique."

"Dazai, let me go," you growled yanking your hand free. "I've had enough of you today, I'm leaving."

You had already turned to leave when he pulled you to the ground. You snorted in frustration, your legs fiercely kicking but the lack of strategy played against you and there you were - trapped under him. Osamu was sitting between your legs with his arms pinning yours to the ground.

You felt unbearably hot and weak, your cunt throbbing against his groin. His face was hanging right above yours, so close you could feel his breath. Unintentionally your eyes focused on his lips then you looked up. Only now you noticed how lustful his gaze was. He clearly was a winner today and he was about to enjoy his prize. As you licked your lips, your recognised your mistake - now your eagerness was more than obvious.

"I'm just parched," you faltered but it sounded pathetic even to you.

"I'm sure you are," Osamu whispered, sitting back. "One more technique and I'll let you go." His fingers gripped your thighs.

Since his weight was off you now, you felt kind of cold. Not knowing where to place your arms, you were about to put them next to your sides when Dazai commanded you to keep them still.

That position was too sexy for your liking - arms are placed next to your head, legs spread. All of it without his control felt like you were offering yourself to him. Like you were submitting. The man was clearly savouring it because his gaze was so intense, in the end, you even had to avert yours.

Dazai clearly didn't like it, tapping your left thigh:

"Look at me, y/n-chan, how else are you supposed to learn?"

You slowly turned back, embarrassed as your eyes darted all over him until they abruptly stopped at his crotch. There was a visible boner in his pants. When Osamu followed your gaze and loudly chuckled you felt your cheeks grow hot and desire growing stronger.

"Concentrate, y/n-chan," Dazai said amusingly but the only thing you could concentrate on was the wetness between your legs. You feared it might start to be visible through your shorts.

"Look, if someone got you into this position," Osamu continued like both of you didn't want the same thing and that thing was to fuck. "You have to keep your arms straight and put them on your shoulders, like this," he gently took your hands and placed them as he instructed. "Then you should put your leg on my hip," he tried to do it for you once again but your leg was wobbly. All the strength you had was wasted on keeping your arms straight.

Dazai sighed theatrically but he couldn't keep a vicious sparkle in his eyes.

"Y/n-chan," he whinged. "You're such a bad student. Weak. Stupid," his fingers were slowly stroking your thigh. "Having a short attention span. Don't you think that you should have concentrated on learning some stuff instead of thinking about my cock?" With this question his arm groped your ass, pulling you closer.

He gripped your hips and you let out a moan. Now you weren't trying to hold back. You were already a loser, might as well enjoy it. Being a tease he was, Dazai wasn't ready to give you everything right then and there but you were having none of it. You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him closer by his collarbone. Osamu certainly wasn't ready for such a force so he confusingly complied.

"Call me stupid one more time and I'm leaving," you warned him, a confident smirk playing on your lips.

Dazai's face quickly changed from surprised to a perverse one. He dropped down on you, pinning you with his whole body and slammed his hips into yours. As you moaned he caressed your face, lovingly brushing your hair, and then whispered:

"I'm gonna break you, pretty doll."

With one swift motion, he put your wrists in one hand pinning it above your head, his tongue running over your lips then dragging you into a deep kiss. As you two were hungrily kissing each other you felt his fingers crawling under your waistband. You jolted, an instinct of placing your hand over his acting up but he was still holding you firmly. He ran one finger over your cunt but you were already shaking, silently begging for more.

"Dazai," you moaned desperately asking him to get down to business.

"You're so wet, y/n-chan," he licked your earlobe making you writhe. "I wish I teased you a little bit more," he started to kiss your jaw getting lower and lower. "I said that I'd break you but it seems you're already at your limit," he chortled, helping you to take your top and bra off.

"You look so beautiful," he murmured once you were almost fully naked in front of him.

Suddenly his gaze turned soft and you felt even more aroused than you before. Gladly the man wasn't planning on wasting any time as he started to lick, nip and bite one of your nipples, playing with his fingers with another. Moaning lewdly and rutting your hips you put your hand into his hair, curling soft strands in your fingers.

When he finished playing with your tits, he wanted to go further down, to place kisses on your lower stomach, but you decided to get back at him. Placing your straight hands on his shoulders, you put a leg on his thigh just as he instructed and squirmed out of his grip.

"You talk about me but look at yourself," you shoved a knee between his thighs, pushing it at his boner. "You were hard even before I started to feel something else besides irritation."

Now it was Osamu whose breath hitched. You were savouring your little win when he looked back at you with a dangerous grin. That was when you realised you fucked up. He quickly grabbed your leg and turned you over on the stomach. Laying down on you, he harshly seized your hair and hissed:

"A+ for learning the technique, but your attitude towards you teacher," he took off your shorts with pants nearly ripping them. "Needs some correction."

That was when the sound of a loud slap broke the silence of the room. You jolted, a gasp leaving your lips. You tried to crawl from him but his grip on your hair was strong.

"Come on, y/n-chan, it was just one slap. Don't you think you deserve it?" The hand that hit you was stroking your bruised ass cheek.

"It fucking hurt," you spit.

"Was it?" Dazai chuckled. "Say that you're sorry."

"For what?" you raged but another hit was your answer.

"Dazai, stop," you sobbed.

"Wrong," he retorted slapping your ass again. "Plus, if you don't like it why are you leaking so much?"

You embarrassingly bit a lip at his remark.

"A little bit of masochistic, are you?" Dazai noted. "Well, if you insist, I can keep on going."

You knew that both of you were barely holding it, so you decided to submit. Just this once.

"I'm sorry!" You squealed after another hit.

"Good girl," Osamu placed a soft kiss on your back still not letting go of your hair. "Now it's time for a treat."

And with that, he finally pushed the first finger into you. Since you were so wet there was a little pool under you, Dazai successfully pushed another finger shortly after. You quivered and jerked your hips begging him to move. This time around your colleague decided not to tease you.

As his fingers were pumping in and out of you, you were trying to push your head down to steady yourself but Dazai didn't let go. You were completely at his will.

"'m close," you mewled, your eyes rolling back.

Dazai hummed in acknowledgement and withdrew his hand. You groaned offendedly but heard the sound of a condom wrapper being ripped and then felt something else rubbing at your entrance.

Finally, Osamu positioned himself behind you and pushed inside, your pussy stretching obediently. The fullness made you gasp pervertedly. As he started moving your mind went completely blank. The only thing that existed for you at that moment was Dazai and his cock inside of you. He let go of your hair, one hand now was holding your hips and another one was giving attention to your clit.

You had no idea how he was still holding on but once your sensitive bud got stimulated you quickly come undone.

"Once more," Dazai panted while moving and playing with your clit simultaneously.

Even though you were tired, you had actually felt desire growing again. Osamu was just way too good for you to resist. You thought that the only thing he was chasing was his high, but he didn't cum until you orgasmed again denying himself every time he got too close. That's why when you cummed for the second time you did it toghether.

He rolled off you, but you couldn't move even a finger, for a moment you've gone completely numb. Your chest was going up and down with heavy breaths, your heart was racing. None of you spoke because you didn't know what to talk about. Especially, since you, personally, felt way too embarrassed to admit that you had just cummed two times because of an annoying Dazai Osamu.

"Looks like we ended in time!" Dazai chirped after some time and you looked at the clock realising that you spent here one hour. Just like it was promised.

"Wish I had actually learned something though," you remarked lazily, trying to pull on your shorts back. You just had to make it to the shower room and then wear your casual clothes. However, your pants were completely ruined.

"Well, if you think that you need another one, just let me know," you looked back at Dazai and his smirk told you that he wasn't meaning the self-defence lessons. You felt your cheeks grow hot again.

"Yeah, sure," you muttered, awkwardly leaving the training room.

From now on you intended on avoiding Dazai whenever it's possible.

Little did you know he had other plans.

[noritoshiikamo]

his little baker

pairing: choso + fem!reader genre: porn with tiny fluff tags//warning: full on smut, choso with breeding kink, little shibari mention tagging: @unabashednightmarepizza @sukirichi @sassyeahhhh [lemme know if wanna be tagged in the next part] note: the obligatory trio of mine: unedited, lowercase intended, the obligatory trio of mine: not well edited, lowercase intended, english isnt my first language im sorry if i murder it. SIGHS WHERE DO I BEGIN WITH THIS DJJENDBDHKDJFKEIEIJKDJ I BLAME SUKI based on the prompt "you should’ve watch that pretty little mouth of yours, before i fuck it"

something about the way his blood formed his own pretty shibari rope around her wrist riled him up. choso tilted his head to the left so innocently, eyes raking her body from up to her feet.

“you should’ve watch that pretty little mouth of yours,” he stated plainly, licking the blood of his palm. the way the drool left trails of reddish fluid on the side of his lips had her pussy clutching on nothing. he grinned as he continued, watching as the words widened her eyes, “before i fuck it.”

“choso-”

“silence, human.”

her breath hitched when she felt his rough hand running up her legs. even with the pantyhose covering it, she could feel the rough palms as if her legs were bare and exposed. her shoes were all over the room, skirt hiked up and she wondered how she managed to get herself in this position in the first place; not that she wanted to complain. he roughly grabbed her by the underside of her knee, pressing her in the meanest mating press. she groaned at the feeling of the blood rope tugging around her wrists. she hates being restrained but choso likes the sense of seeing her helplessness. seeing her body trashing, moaning, and begging to be touched and to touch him fuelled his core.

“baby,” he called melodiously, pressing her clothed core with his palm. he could only see the white of her eyes, head thrown back as she tugged on the restrain. he faked a gasp, “look at how wet you are.”

“choso, please,” she gasped.

he clicked his tongue, “tch, you’re in no position to demand, my love,” with a flick of his wrists, he ripped the pantyhose apart, revealing the last article of clothes. clear patch of moist forming on the panties sending a chuckle out his mouth. he’s a massive tease; he pressed butterfly kisses all over her ankle, brushing his fangs against the reddening skin as he inched up, flicking the tip of his tongue on her exposed skin occasionally when he reached to her thigh until his breath lingered above her cunt. she was a panting mess, eyes roaming desperately and when she felt his fingers tugging on the thin material of her panties, she couldn’t breathe when the material snapped.

he loomed over her, her eyes frantically drinking the sight of him. they were both feral in their own way. he ran his thumb on her lower lip which she immediately caught. eyes trained on him just the way he likes it, she desperately sucked on his thumb, tongue swirling around like it was the real thing before releasing it with a pop. his eyes widened and his pants tightened. he leaned forward, rewarding her little show with a kiss.

“such a good girl,” he praised happily.

she nodded frantically, eager for another kiss only for him to put her back to her place with a tug of her hair. she yelped and he immediately shoved the sad excuse of the panties in her mouth. his baby looks perfect. he fought the urge to palm himself immediately.

“remind me, what do we do when we reached our limit?” his eyes glanced up to her left hand, watching as her hand signalled their safe gesture. all fingers up with the ring finger tapping the palm twice; just like they agreed. he ruffed her hair with a kiss on her forehead, “that’s my girl,” he winked before slipping off the bed.

choso tend to get overly excited with everything. being a cursed human trapped for years, he has a lot of things to make up for and his curiosity is about to kill a pussy. literally. he believes that when a thing needs to be done, it needs to be done right. the first time he found out that her human body was capable of squirting, he had her screaming on the edge of the bed with three fingers buried deep and his lips latched on her clit, thighs soaked and trembling as his free hand dug deep onto her flesh to hold her down.

today, he’s about to find out if his human has the gag reflex.

straddling her chest with nothing on but a boxer, she marvelled at the way his body looked. he hooked his finger on the strap, pulling the panties out and watched as his human panted for air. “are you going to be a good girl for me?” he cooed, tilting her chin up with a finger. “yes, choso.” she nodded eagerly.

he was an eager man. his cock sprunt out fully erected and she found herself salivating over the length. holding the base of it, he gave it a quick pump, pre cum leaking down on her lips, her tongue was already out to catch the falling droplet, licking it clean. holding on to the headboard, he slipped the head between her lips, a loud moan rumbled out of his throat as he watched little by little the length disappeared into her mouth.

“fuck, baby, look at the way you take my dick,” he snickered, thrusting his hips sending the tip to the back of her throat. her nose touched his trail, the corner of her eyes watered as she looked up to him desperately. “just a little more,” he hushed, wiping the stray tear away, grunting at the way her throat tightened around his length. he quickly pulled out, strings of her saliva and his pre cum soaking her chin. she panted, gulping as much air as she could when she felt the tip resting on her lips.

when she struggled to swallow what left in her mouth, he gave her a glare, a warningand like an obedient little slut, she swallowed it down. “open wide and let me fuck that pretty little mouth,” he grunted, bottoming down and up, slowly building a rhythm with the thrust of his hips. she gagged, his dick twitching at the squelching sound coming from her moist throat clamping on his dick desperately. when the passage started to feel tighter and unwelcoming, he reached down and closed her nose, telling her calmly to open and breath through her mouth. she shook her head to get his hand off and irritated, he grabbed her hair back and warned her of what happen to bad girls.

“bad little girls don’t deserve to cum,” he hissed, “do you want to be a bad girl, or do you want to open up for me and let me fill your throat up?”

her eyes watered as she nodded, tears streaming down her face.

“i-i want to cum.”

“let’s try again then. show me what you’ve learned,” he let go of her hair and his eyes marvelled as she took the dick in, tongue flat against his shaft, lapping desperately against it as she took him in. she worked around it for a bit, bobbing and sucking on the tip, bottoming out with occasionally letting the tip in to the back of her throat ignoring the gagging urge. sense of pride built in her chest when she looked up to see such a tense look on his face. brows knitted with his eyes close as he struggled to take a breath every time she sucked it in; it was clear that he wanted to cum so badly.

and she took it personally.

without a warning, she put on the pretence of bottoming out, but instead of pulling, she held it in. dick deep down her spasming throat clenching desperately on his sensitive dick. tongue swirling on his veins, eyes bore on his now opened eyes, openly challenging him and she could hear him laughing. he knew what she was doing, trying to make him cum to end the game early but no way baby. two can play this game. he closed her nose again, watching as her cheeks flushed. he knew she’s not going to last.

he counted to 10, watched as she tugged on his restrains, eyes wide before pulling out. she gasped for air, coughing out spit and her pre cum. she didn’t even have enough time to recover when he grabbed her face.

“my baby thinks she’s so smart,” he smirked, planting a kiss on her nose, “you think you can end the game by making me cum in your mouth,” his hand travelled down to cup her soaking cunt, “that’s not the deal, baby. and even if you did make me cum, i still have plenty more to fill your needy cunt,” he slapped his palm on the sensitive nub, eliciting a scream from the girl. her legs closed immediately, clutching desperately as it trembled in pleasure.

he released the bind, immediately throwing the girl on all fours. she whimpered at his roughness. his hand buried in her hair, tugging on it until he could see down on her pretty teary eyes. her breath hitched when she felt the tip rubbing against her entrance, slowly splitting her apart as he drove his dick into her clenching wall. “does it feel good?” he cooed down on his human, cue her repeating yes like a prayer. he let go of her hair, grabbing a shoulder and her hips, before pulling out and in again. he quickly built his rhythm, the sound of her ass clapping against his pelvic got rougher and rougher. her loud cries echoed the small room, so melodiously to his ear. he leaned forward; nose buried in her hair as he inhaled her scent in.

his human smelled so good, so sweet and warm; it’s like walking into a bakery store where the baker had just pulled out a nice batch of cinnamon rolls. which she owns.

his hand reached under her shirt, tugging on the material of her bra spilling the goodies out. she called out his name when his fingers found the hardened nub, gently rolling it between his fingers. he lives for her reassurance. the like that, please touch me like that, choso that feel so good, fuck me a little harder; they all went straight to his dick. he nuzzled against her ears, warm breath tickling her neck as his fang brushed against her sensitive neck.

steadying her body, he took her hand in his huge palm, placing it on her lower abdomen. he kissed the side of her head, a small smile on his face, “do you feel that?” he asked, thrusting in, “your cunt looks so full and pretty buried on my dick.” her eyes widened when she realised the bulge was his dick. she could feel it moving from the outside, she swallowed her saliva, eyes fluttering back and forth.

“maybe i should fuck you full of my cum,” he kissed her shoulder, “first i’ll make you round and full of my cum, then maybe you’ll be round and full with my child. what do you think of that human?” she shuddered at the thought. he pulled her up, her back resting against his pounding chest.

she croaked, “choso-”

“you think i can make you a mother?” he hummed against her ears.

she was drunk and delirious, with his hand rubbing circles on her clit, she could only nod in compliance. such an obedient human, his mind noted. he didn’t understand how he got so obsessed with her, a human.

his little baker.

the very first time he laid eyes on her, she held a cinnamon roll to him, and he stuttered. she smiled so beautifully, and she welcomed him in her bakery every day. little by little, her pants turned into skirt and the skirt become shorter and shorter the more he came over. he got that instantly. every glance came with a little smirk as she placed his coffee and cinnamon bun. on a good day, he caught on what colour of bra she’s wearing. but now he got her shaking in his arms, bent to his every will as he pumped her full of pleasure.

he wanted her for forever.

“c-cum in me,” she stuttered, head resting on his shoulder.

he hummed in agreement, his lips leaving trails of black and blue on her shoulder as his thrusts got sloppier. she came undone first, his palm against her mouth as she screamed in pleasure. her legs trembled; her nails left crescent marks on his arms as he held her close. her walls clutching desperately against his length. he buried his face in the crook of her neck ad he powered through. she was a babbling mess, overstimulation finally hit her as his cock scrapped the inside of her raw. it didn’t take long for him to finally come, shooting ropes after ropes of his thick seed in her cunt. his hips slowed down; praises didn’t stop coming from his lips as he came down from his own high. they crashed on the bed.

he didn’t dare to move out, leaving his dick buried deep inside her as he struggled to catch a breath. until he was sure he had emptied everything deep in her womb, he’s not budging. she rested her head on his arm, his tongue lapped down her sweaty skin, kissing on every mark he left apologetically. it was almost painful to stay in her as his dick softened, but his hips still trusting so gently.

he could feel her chest rumbling as she let a soft laugh at his little antics. she let his arms wrapped around her, his soft breathing lulling her into sleep. he kissed her cheek and nuzzled back into her neck.

oh, how this cursed human loves his little baker so much.

[glowingbadger]

Let's talk "Fertility Saint Cichol" for a bit, shall we?

No one requested this, I just wanted to let my mind wander on its own for once lol.

Seteth (FE3H) x GN Reader

cw: cock worship, deep throating, me being a shameless size queen

NSFW 18+

* and spoilers I guess idk

You've only been in Seteth's quarters a handful of times before, and always with him present. Today, however, it seems work has kept him late, and so you meander around his room, trying to occupy yourself without being overly intrusive as you wait to meet him for tea. Truthfully, there isn't much to see. A tasteful four poster bed with curtains drawn, several bookshelves, a work desk- as if he needs more opportunities to work, you think with a bemused smirk.

So, to keep busy, you choose a light bit of reading at random from an uncharacteristically unruly pile on the floor beside Seteth's desk. It appears to be an anthology of some rather fantastical tales centering the saints. As you skim through, you can't help a grin. Evidently, Cethleann was 9 feet tall and her hair was a literal flowing waterfall, while Indech once gave birth to a pegasus (the pegasus later rejoined his physical form somehow- it's rather vague about this point- which is why we've never seen physical evidence of it, so this text claims).

And then you reach a collection of poems dedicated to Saint Cichol. Your eyes scan the page, narrowing as they proceed. With each line, your face warms to a darker shade of red. It's... shockingly salacious. A fertility God? Goddess blessed manhood of awe-inspiring proportion? Virility that fills barren riverbeds?!

You're so consumed by the collage of erotic imagery conjured into your mind that you barely hear the door open behind you.

"My apologies for the delay. I hope you haven't been waiting terribly long."

"Oh- not at all!" you say, turning to face Seteth as he enters. The stress of the work day is smoothed over by the warmth of his smile on seeing you. But he must notice something strange about your expression, as his brows furrow in curiosity. Then, he notices the book in your hands.

"Goddess help me- of all of the books you could have-" he quickly strides towards you and seizes it from you, tossing it back to its pile, "Please assure me that you didn't take any of that- that filth to heart." he says, his face twisted in exasperation as he runs a hand through thick green hair.

"Seteth, relax," you say with a gentle smile, "I figured it was all a bit..."

"Baseless conjecture is what it is- and heretical, at that," he says with disgust, crossing his arms and rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingers, "Clearly I ought to have been more prompt in disposing of these particular texts."

You sympathize with his frustration, to be certain. Still. Your eyes can't help wandering up and down his frame before you and... you wonder.

"So... there's no truth to anything in there?" You step towards him and silently urge him to open his arms to you. He sighs and leans back against his desk with his hands gently at your waist.

"Nonsense, all of it- particularly that part about 'barren riverbeds' or some such." Despite his mood, his face flushes red at the reference to such claims on his own potent virility. You're not even fully conscious of the smirk spreading across your face, but you lean against him and run your hands slowly up his firm chest. Seteth has been rather demure about intimacy thus far. As of yet, you've hardly even seen beneath the starched collar of his robes. Perhaps this is the time to learn a little more about him.

"That book claims that you're the patron of fertility." you prod further. His chest rises as he inhales slowly, and you swear you can feel his heart pounding beneath your touch.

"Yes, well- it was a... fringe belief several centuries past. I am- Saint Cichol is the only noted figure in the church known to have produced a child," you hum with interest, and by now, your body rests against his, and your hands have traveled down his torso. Seteth rambles on, glancing to the side and attempting the same tone he would use with a student, "the elemental association with the earth was also a factor, so I- I was... often prayed to for blessings of..."

One gentle hand reaches below his belt, and you gaze up at him for any sign of resistance or hesitation. He doesn't stop you, and doesn't look like he wants to. Your touch travels beneath his outer robes, between his thighs, where you immediately feel the heat of his manhood beginning to resist the confines of his clothing. You palm the impressive bulge, noting that even half-soft, he carries more than most men do at their full size. Seteth's posture stiffens, his eyes half-lidded as he stares down at you. With an odd rasp in his throat, he whispers your name. Then, he pulls you close and kisses you with an intensity you'd always suspected he had in him somewhere.

As his lips press to yours, massaging yours slow and firm, your tongue grazes his, tentatively at first. He responds enthusiastically, tilting his head to kiss you more deeply and running his tongue sensually against yours. You moan into his mouth, the friction between your bodies absolutely intoxicating, and your hand begins to stroke his manhood more firmly from atop the barrier of his clothing. His length hardens to your touch, growing in your hand as though to plead for more. Parting from his lips just enough to speak, you murmur,

"How long has it been since someone properly worshipped you, 'Saint Cichol?'"

Seteth's voice catches in his throat as he repeats,

"Worshipped...?"

Before he can question you further, you carefully lower onto your knees before him. Your touch is slow and indulgent as you enjoy the feeling of his now-massive cock straining against his pants. Looking up to meet his eyes, you see him thoroughly transfixed by the sight of you prostrate beneath him, and your lips curl into a wolfish grin. Both of his hands come to grip the edge of the desk behind him as you part his robes and tug down the hem of his trousers.

The sight of that tower of flesh springing free to loom over you immediately sends urgent arousal flooding through your burning body, and you fail to hold in an excited whimper. Your pupils grow wide as you size him up with unabashed hunger in your gaze, and you can't even bring yourself to notice how tightly your fists are clenched around the front of his clothes.

"Goddess, Seteth-!" you gasp out, bringing a hand to wrap around his cock at the base, "You're so big...!"

He clears his throat, shyly turning his face away, as though he could possibly hide his conspicuous blush and flustered expression.

"I, er... thank you, I suppose..." he says softly.

"I can't even get my hand all the way around it..." you go on with evident awe in your voice. Slowly, savoring each impossibly thick inch, you slide your hand up the length of his shaft and down once more. Seteth inhales deeply. He must be rather sensitive; in fact, you wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't been with someone intimately in some time.

"Are you... are you certain that you want this?" he asks, finally allowing his eyes to meet yours directly. You almost laugh.

"Seteth," you say as though scolding him, "I'd want to pleasure you regardless, but now that I know you have such an incredible cock, I can't think of anything I want more." He bites his bottom lip, his knuckles white as his fists clamp hard on the desk. Your smirk becomes only wider and more devious. Despite himself, he's clearly enjoying your praise.

"I can certainly see how this gorgeous cock would inspire... devotion, of a kind," you say, your hand traveling his length once more, this time merely to appreciate its shape and size. He groans softly, still fighting desperately to hold his voice in. With a feather-light touch, you run a single finger along the underside of his shaft, tracing a prominent, bulging vein. "I've never seen another that's even come close to yours, Seteth," you say, jerking your hand slightly at its base, "it almost seems a shame to keep it all to myself. Surely there are plenty who would like the chance to worship and adore their beloved Fertility God."

If your blaspheming bothers him any, he can't bring himself to reprimand you for it. Instead, he murmurs,

"I've no desire for any but you."

In reply, you press a chaste but lingering kiss to the crown of his cock. Seteth utters a shaky sigh of pleasure, and his length twitches subtly in reply. You raise your eyes to look up at your Saint.

"Can I taste it?"

"You may." he says softly. His stern brow is deeply creased with intense focus as you begin to work your lips around the head of his cock. It strikes you immediately how even wrapping your mouth around him only highlights how thoroughly this massive pillar puts any other to shame.

Seteth breathes out your name in a low, heated voice you've never heard from him before as you suck at his tip. Your lips seal around the ridge of his crown and you circle and flick him with your tongue, lapping at him all over until you feel his member throb for you. Each twitch and flex of his length is more powerful and more potent than the last, driving you to keep servicing him, to seek out those wonderful affirmations of pleasure.

By the time you dare to try taking him further into your mouth, your body leans against his legs, your hands clinging to his muscular thighs for leverage. Though, perhaps you've become over-eager; as you push yourself onto him, his cock burrows deeper and deeper, hitting your throat and then continuing to fill it. You struggle to open up for him as much as possible, grimacing as you fight your gag reflex. You're just barely past half of his full length, and he's pressing out against your throat enough to create a visible bulge. Seteth's body arches and his head tilts back as he groans your name. Then, you're forced to release him and come up for air.

Panting softly, you mutter,

"Damnit, I can't even reach the base."

"You... should not force yourself..." Seteth manages between strained breaths. As he steadies himself against the desk, you switch your focus for the time being. You begin at the root of his cock and drag your tongue up along the underside, following that same lovely vein you discovered earlier. With open adoration in your eyes, you go on to service him thoroughly with your tongue, licking and kissing every powerful, masculine inch of his rod. Then, when he's well and completely covered in your saliva, you grip the base and lead the tip to your mouth once more.

Dedicating yourself once more to your worship, you suck on his cock eagerly while steadily stroking what amount of it you can't reach in your hand. Your saliva slickens his shaft so that your hand can pump him steadily as your lips and tongue adore his tip in tandem. Seteth gasps aloud, his head leaning back once more to moan out his pleasure into the quiet of his quarters. Just once, you feel his hips buck toward you just a little- but he grits his teeth and holds himself in place, evidently worried for your comfort even now.

You increase your pace, wrapping your mouth tight and warm and wet around his enormous member, ever encouraged by Seteth's beautiful moans. Your tongue presses along the bottom of his shaft, causing him to rub firmly along the top of your mouth with every pass, and by now, you've even surprised yourself with your near obsessive desire to please him. Perhaps there was something to this "Fertility God" angle after all.

"If you... if you don't stop, I-!" Seteth bucks against you once more, and once more he fights to keep himself still, "I won't... be able to hold back...!"

Needing a way to assuage his doubts without pulling away from your sacred duties, you redouble your efforts instead. You take his thick cock into your throat until it hurts, threatening to make you choke each time you force yourself onto him, but you hold fast. The full length swells and throbs from tip to base, and Seteth is crying out your name like a plea. The strength of his grip actually causes the desk supporting him to creak, but you can't be bothered to care- you need him to cum for you, you're desperate for it.

Then, finally, with a tortured groan and a few choice words you didn't realize Seteth had in his vocabulary, his body trembles and his orgasm takes hold of him. Thick, hot cum pours into your throat, and you immediately swallow the first couple of shots, but it's not long before you're completely overwhelmed. Perhaps you should have eased up, rather than continuing to stroke and milk him with your free hand, but the dizzying thrill of his climax seems to be affecting you as well. When you simply can't take any more of him in your mouth, you pull away and allow him to spill the rest across your chest.

You look up at him from your worshipful position beneath him. You imagine you make for a sinful sight, subservient to his cock and now a mess of saliva and cum. And there is a moment- a brief, fleeting moment- when you can see something fiery and animalistic in Seteth's gaze as he regains himself enough to check on you. Yet he quickly suppresses it, and says,

"I- I apologize, I allowed myself to get carried away, and-"

"Seteth, please," you say with a laugh as you shakily rise to your feet, "it's just a bit of cleanup. A small price to pay for the chance to finally pleasure you."

He smiles sheepishly in return, helping to steady you, then placing a light kiss to your lips.

"I hadn't realized that you were so eager for the opportunity," he says, stroking a lock of your hair back into place, "If you will allow, I'd be honored to clean you up a bit and then return the favor."

"That sounds positively divine." you reply, and you're swiftly lifted into Seteth's arms and carried towards his private bath. Your knees still ache from the hardwood floor, but you hardly consider it for a moment. You're already looking forward to the next opportunity to show your devotion to your Saint.

[ezzydean]

“You invited how many people over for Christmas dinner??” - Stilinski family feels

some more shenanigans related to this prompt and this prompt and this prompt

1k under the cut

click here to read on my blog instead of the dash

“You invited how many people over for Christmas dinner?”

Noah freezes for a moment and then closes the fridge door slowly.  He’s not afraid of Peter.  He’s never been afraid of Peter.  Not even when he first realized werewolves were real and Peter could, quite literally, rip out his throat before Noah could manage to blink.

Peter doesn’t scare him.

But the look on Chris’ face when he turns around and meets his husband’s gaze makes a sliver of fear trickle down his spine.  How strangely fitting that his completely human husband inspires more fear in him than his werewolf boyfriend does.

“Whatever number will get you to stop looking like you want to bury my body in the woods under an endangered plant so I can never be dug back up?  Subtract, like, two and that’s the number we’re going to go with.”

“Noah,” Chris grits out.

“Come on,” Noah says as he starts putting the rest of the groceries away.  “We had everyone over for Thanksgiving not that long ago.”

“Most of us, yes.  But all of us?  No.  Jordan wasn’t here for Thanksgiving.  Neither was Laura.  Or Allison.  Or the twins.  Or—”

“It’ll be fine.”

“How are we even supposed to fit everyone here?  It was already crowded at Thanksgiving!”

“Chris.  It’s the first time in years, hell maybe the first time pretty much ever, that we can all be in one place.  It’s not going to matter how crowded we do or don’t feel.”

“I know!  I know it’s the first time!  Do you know how dangerous that is?  Everyone here all at once?”

Noah immediately drops the boxes in his hands on the counter and crosses the kitchen to draw Chris into a hug.  Now he understands exactly what Chris is worried about with the whole thing and it’s not the space issue.

“I’m going to call Peter and the three of us are going to have a sit down, alright?”  Chris tenses in his arms but Noah just hugs him tighter.  “You’re not going to run away, Chris.  We’re talking about this.  All three of us.”

Chris huffs but he doesn’t disagree.

—

“I have been back in town for twenty-seven minutes,” Peter says.  “Pray tell me what was so important that I couldn’t even go back to my place and shower first.”

The front door shuts with a loud click and Chris forces the surge of panic down.  It’s irrational, he knows that.  But he’s been strung tight all week and today had just been the icing on the cake for whatever reason.  The boiling point.  The final straw.

Peter is there in an instant, warm hands cupping Chris’ face and forcing him to stop his pacing and look at Peter.

“Hi, Peter,” Noah says from the kitchen.  Chris hears him moving past them and settling on the couch but he can’t look away from Peter.

“Hello, Noah,” Peter replies as he holds Chris’ gaze.  There’s something in Peter’s eyes, something warm and strong and comforting and Chris is just so damn tired that he wants to sink into the promise he sees there.  The promise that they’ll be okay, that he’ll be okay, that Peter will make sure they are okay.

“Peter,” Chris whispers.

Peter smiles at him like he just made his entire day with that one whispered word and Chris finally lets himself fully fall for this ridiculous, smarmy, overly confident asshole that he would trust — and has trusted — with not only his life but the lives of his family.

The lives of his pack.  Their pack.

Peter takes a sharp breath when Chris opens up and fully accepts and gives their bond free rein.

“Christopher,” Peter breathes his name like it’s a gift.  His eyes flash when Chris leans his head forward to bump their foreheads together before tilting his head to press his cheek against Peter’s hand.  Peter’s other hand slides down to brush against Chris’ throat before it drops to his hip and then Chris is being hugged within an inch of his life.

“You’ll keep them safe, right?”  Chris wraps his arms around Peter’s waist and tucks his face into Peter’s shoulder.  “When they all come back?  When we’re all here together?  You’ll make sure nothing happens, that I don’t—”

Peter makes a shushing noise, cutting him off.  “You are not your family, Christoper.  You never have been.  I don’t need to worry about keeping them safe.  Because I have you here.  You and Noah both.  I can leave town without fear because I know the two of you are here to watch over them, to watch my back.”  He pulls away from Chris but only far enough to make Chris look up and meet his eyes once again.  “You give me peace, Christopher Argent.  You and Noah both.”  Peter glances over his shoulder and smiles at Noah.  “And I will do anything necessary to protect that peace.”

Chris takes a deep breath.

“Okay,” he says softly.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.  Okay.  Thank you.”

“Of course, darling,” Peter says.

—

Noah throws his arm over Stiles’ shoulder and gently shakes his son a little while Stiles laughs.  It’s good to have them all here, to have them all home.  Even if it is only for the holidays.

Before long Allison and the twins will be gone again.  Laura is staying through New Years but then she’ll be back on the other coast.  Erica and Boyd are leaving in a couple weeks for an as of yet undetermined amount of time.  So he’s going to soak up all the love and laughter and good cheer he can while they are all here.

Peter glances over at him from where he’s pressed against Chris on the couch and they smile at each other.  Peter has been damn near attached to Chris’ hip since the other day and Noah feels a flare of warmth every time he spots them together.

“Congrats, Dad,” Stiles says softly.

“What do you mean?”

“You and Pops and Peter.  A traditional Hale Pack triad.  From what I’ve read in the books from Peter’s library it’s something that hasn’t really happened in a long, long time.”

“That so?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that a good thing?”

Stiles laughs again and twists so he can bury his face in Noah’s shoulder as he hugs him.  “I think it’s a great thing,” he mutters.  “You three deserve the happiness.”

Then he’s pulling away and yelling at Jackson and Jordan about something and Noah just shakes his head as he lets the sound of Christmas with his pack, his family, wash over him.

“I think it’s a great thing too,” Peter murmurs when Noah joins him and Chris on the couch a few minutes later.  “I think we’re a great thing.”

“Yeah,” Chris says, wrapping his arm around Noah’s shoulders and tugging him close.  “I think so too.”

“Merry Christmas,” Noah says in lieu of all the thoughts of love and happiness that are crowding his throat.

“Merry Christmas,” Peter and Chris reply in unison.

It’s the best Christmas Noah has had in a long, long time.

[baronessblixen]

Christmas trope! Scully accidentally drinks too much egg nog at the work Christmas gift exchange. Its daytime and being tipsy is not appropriate at work.

Finally writing this! Thank you for the prompt. 

Ficmas Day 11: Christmas party

A pre-“Millennium” fic

Tagging @today-in-fic

He catches Scully in the hallway – literally – when she wobbles towards him, an absent-minded smile on her face.

“Muler!” She becomes liquid in his arms, staring up at him with big, doe-like eyes.

“Scully?” He asks slowly, making sure to keep her upright. “What happened?”

“You,” she says, pressing her middle finger into his chest. “Youwerenothere.” Her words run together but she punctuates each one with a finger stab.

“What?”

“The party!” She exclaims as if it were the most obvious fact in the world. And he remembers. The annual FBI Christmas party is taking place today, along with a gift exchange. There had been emails (he deleted each one, most without even opening them). But Scully, obviously, hadn’t.

“Sorry I missed it,” he lies.

“Gotta go back,” Scully says and tries to slip away from his grasp. She stumbles and he grabs her elbows to steady her.

“How about I go with you?” He asks, putting on a soft smile.

“You would do that? Really, Muler?” She beams up at him, rendering him speechless. He’s never seen her like this. Not once. He’s seen her drink a few glasses of wine now and then, has seen the color rise in her cheeks and hear her giggle when she was tipsy, but this is new to him.

“Really,” he says. “I think, um, how about instead of going back to the party, I’ll take you home?”

She shakes her head, taking a few unbalanced steps forwards. “Can’t. Pick up the- the gift.”

“What gift?”

“For us. For the X-Files.”

“Tell you what,” he says, touching her shoulders. “You wait here and I’ll go in, get the gift and we’ll get out of here.”

She thinks about it for a moment, biting her bottom lip. Finally, she nods. “Okay.”

“Wait here,” he says sternly, flinching. He feels like he’s dealing with a child, not his very competent, overly rational partner. But she nods and sits down on one of the visitor benches. “I’ll be right back.”

Finding the party is easy enough; he just follows the cheesy, too loud Christmas music. A few agents throw him looks as he makes his way through, trying to find someone he knows.

“Hey Mulder,” one agent says, lifting his glass towards him, “where’s your partner?”

“None of your business,” he snarls.

“I’m just asking cause,” the agents follows him, checking for curious, eavesdropping ears. “She’s been drinking this,” he points at his glass, at the yellowish concoction, “a lot. I mean a lot.” Mulder glances at the agent, unable to place him or remember his name. He seems genuine enough, reminds him of Agent Pendrell back in the day.

“She said something about a gift,” he says. The other agent nods and Mulder follows him to a large table with torn wrapping paper and an assortment of cheap trinkets.

“This is yours.” An alien mug. No wonder Scully felt the need to get drunk.

“Thanks,” Mulder says, taking the mug and leaving as quickly as he can, not giving a damn about what any of these agents think about him or Scully.

He finds her exactly where he left her. Except now she’s half-asleep, barely sitting up. Love for her spreads through him and he touches her shoulder gently, squeezing it. A smile breaks out on her face, lazily, when she sees him.

“Hey,” she says as if she’s seeing him for the first time today.

“Hey you,” he replies, taking her hand and helping her up. “Time to go home.”

“Hmm, okay.”

He isn’t surprised, and somewhat relieved, when she falls asleep on the way to her apartment. She is slow to wake when they arrive and too quiet for his liking in the elevator. There’s a greenish hue on her face and he scrambles for his own set of keys, not taking his eyes off her, to unlock the door. As soon as he does, she dashes past him with a speed he didn’t think possible considering her state of inebriation. He closes the door, takes off his coat and shoes, and then follows her to the bathroom.

“Oh, honey,” he mumbles, not even thinking about the term of endearment as he sits down next to her on the cold tiles.

“Don’t feel so good,” she says, leaning against the toilet, her head resting on her arms.

“I know you don’t,” he says, gently stroking her back and making sure her hair is out of the way. “I’ll find you some aspirin, okay?”

“Dontleaveplease,” she says quickly, throwing him a pitiful look.

“I’m not leaving,” he promises in a whisper. He quickly gathers everything they need: a large glass of water, some aspirin, a pillow, and a blanket. It’s going to be a long night and he can’t be sure how much of it will be spent in the bathroom.

“What happened to it?” Scully asks him after taking a sip of water.

“To what?”

“That mug,” she says, groaning.

“Ah. Our Christmas gift. It’s in my coat pocket.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she says, sounding tired. “Getting drunk.”

“It’s okay, Scully.”

But she shakes her head. “I was frustrated.”

“Because of the mug?”

She shrugs. “And… other things.”

“What other things?” He nudges her.

“I kept thinking,” she says, “wondering whether you’d ever…” she looks up at him with glassy, exhausted eyes. A few messy strands of hair stick to her pale forehead and he sighs inwardly, amazed how beautiful she is, even like this. No, especially like this.

“Whether I’d ever what?”

“You never tried again. To kiss me,” she says.

Oh.

Oh.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t- I-“

She laughs softly. “I thought, one glass of eggnog and I’ll do it. Blame Christmas. Then one glass of eggnog turned into… Mulder, how many glasses?”

“I don’t know,” he says.

She groans. “Too many.”

“Here.” He wraps her in the blanket he brought and tightens it against her cool body. 

“Thank you,” she says quietly. They’re silent for a moment, waiting to see whether Scully’s stomach has settled for the night. She takes a deep breath and glances at him. “Did you ever think about it again? Kissing me?”

“Scully, I think about it every day.”

“Then why?”

He doesn’t have a reason, not a single one. There are hundreds, and there are none. He shrugs, gives her a sheepish look. “Never a good time, is there?”

“My head hurts,” Scully says. “Can I sleep here?”

“You could,” he says, “but you’d regret it in the morning. Come on, time for bed.” He helps her up and leads her into her bedroom, taking baby steps. He leaves her to get changed and finds a bucket, just in case. She’s in bed when he returns.

“You’re leaving.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll be here. Try to sleep, okay? If you need anything, I’ll be in the living room.” He presses a soft kiss to her clammy forehead.

“Mulder?”

“Hm?”

“Can we try again? Soon?”

He needs a moment to understand what she’s asking. When the penny drops, he blushes. She wants to kiss him. And soon.

“I promise,” he says. 

[uswnt-keeper]

Holiday Surprise

Requested by: @mari-victoria-13

Prompt: can you write lindsey x reader celebrating the holidays w readers family??

This is my SECOND TIME posting this cuz it won’t show up in tags which is very annoying. I hope it does this time. Went a little off the prompt, but that’s what you get if you leave me with little to no detail 😂. Hope you enjoy! Also if anyone knows how to make the post shorter so it says “keep reading” rather than have a whole ass paragraph on my page, please let me know. Thanks, enjoy! 💜Also this is NOT proof read, sorry...

“Finally, the adults turn to open presents,” my brother, Owen, complained standing up from his position on the couch to go search through the presents.

“Hey, you decided to have two cute kids,” I retorted as his wife laughed across from Lindsey and I.

It was Christmas of course and usually it was the cheeriest time of the year, and it still was, but this year I was nervous, very nervous. I had a plan, in fact a very elaborate one to propose to my girlfriend of 4 years, Lindsey.

Lindsey has been a shining light in my life since I met her all of those year ago. I remember being 16 when she was 18, hearing she went pro out of high school. I didn’t know it at the time, but we’d end up meeting for the first time four year later when I was 20. I got my first national team call up and we became attached at the hip. Of course, she had solid relationships with Tobin and Sonnett which 100% threw me off at first, especially because I thought Sonny and Linds were together. But after sometime, she expressed interest, and my oblivious brain didn’t read it right. I didn’t realize what was happening until I got shovel talk by the entire team, I was 21 by then, and confused as hell.

When I finally figure out what the hell they were talking about, it was clear I had no solid plan to ask Lindsey out, and so it became a game of what if’s, the whole team giving me ideas of what to do. I got so overwhelmed by the ideas and what could go wrong that when Lindsey walked in I just asked her... mostly by accident, and since that day we’ve been together.

Yeah, we’ve had some arguments and fights, like any normal relationship does, but we never go to bed angry at one another. We’ve helped each other through a lot, everything really. When my dad passed away 3 years ago, she was there, she lost the championship, I was there. Now, I want to promise her that I’ll be there forever, until death do us part and I can only hope she’ll agree.

We all stacked the presents in front of us which were ours and started to open them, collecting things of course from everyone. I got a nice watch, some jewelry, but I was most excited to see Lindsey’s reaction to the final gift.

“That’s it,” Lindsey said looking around at everyone’s wrapping paper on the floor, of course, everyone was in on this proposal except for Lindsey, I had something extravagant planned, and it would take a few days.

“No, there’s one last thing for you babe,” I said looking at her.

“Where? I don’t see it,” she looked around, unable to find it until she looked at me, holding a small box, wrapped in white and gold, “You’re sneaky, what is it?” She chuckled and I smiled.

“Open it,” I told her, she did, and found a small necklace in there, she seemed shocked, eventually finding the engraving on the back of important dates for us. When we met, our first kiss, when we both moved in together, etc.

“This is beautiful,” she said with a well of tears as she hugged me and I pecked her lips.

“There’s something else in there love,” I said, putting the necklace around her neck as she looked back in the box.

I watch on as she read it, everyone watching the exchange as I gave them a cheeky grin, “An I Owe You?” Lindsey asked and I nodded to the paper again as she started to read it, “Okay, ‘Mrs Lindsey Michelle Horan, I owe you a little trip up to the Delicate Arch’...” she looked at me with a confused face before looking at the paper again, “Oh, ‘You’re final present will be there, ready to pick up on December 31st’ New Years?” I nodded.

“Yep, I got one final thing for you, but it won’t be ready for some time,” I said, “Sorry, I really couldn’t get it in until later,” I smiled.

Obviously that was a complete lie, I had to organize everyone to be on the arch for New Years, which was hard convincing for some as it was gonna be cold. But the New Years fireworks would be perfect to help me out with this proposal, and it would be expensive, but totally worth it. Yeah, I had to get the whole team to fly out here, and Lindsey’s family who were fully on board, and get them up to the arch in time, literally just in time, for the fireworks.

It was a precarious plan, but I felt good about it.

“I have to wait for it?”

I nodded and she groaned, making the room laugh.

“I hate waiting,” she sighed and I chuckled, kissing her cheek.

“I know love, but I promise this is going to be the best present you’ve ever gotten... or at least I hope so.”

It was her time to kiss my cheek now, “I’m sure it’ll be great.”

The days passed by rather quickly, almost so quickly that I wasn’t ready when New Years rolled around. We’d spent a lot of time together, baking cookies with my family, splaying with my twin nephews, and honestly walking around Utah. A lot of that time was spent distracting Lindsey, and Im sure she got suspicious when I left her with my mom for a full day to make sure everything was in place. That was yesterday, December 30th, and that was also the day I picked up the ring.

When I got home that night, I didn’t think Lindsey was too happy with me. I’d gotten home and instead of greeting them rushed upstairs to my moms room where I knew the ring would be safely hidden. I felt bad though, as I’d literally been gone all day preparing, only coming hope around 10:30pm, to a grumpy looking Lindsey and my sleeping mother on the couch.

“Hey,” I said nervously and Lindsey gave me a look as if to tell me to meet her upstairs as she walked off, I sighed, waking my mom up.

“Huh what?” My mom always woke up startled, she always had since my dad died.

“You fell asleep,” I said, “Come on I think its bed time.”

“Where’s Lindsey?”

“Upstairs waiting for me so she can be angry I was gone all day,” I said with a small smile, my mom looked at me concerned, but so waved it off, “She’ll be happy when she get my present tomorrow.”

My mother smiled, “I’m so excited for it Y/N, you’re gonna do great,” She smiled and kissed my cheek as I helped her up. We walked upstairs together in silence, turning off the lights as we went, and I waved her goodbye when she went to her room and I went to mine.

When I walked in the bedroom, Lindsey was there, on the bed, looking at me with a stern face, looking down to her phone when I caught her eyes.

“Hey baby,” I said a little nervous, “You want to brush your teeth with me?”

“I already got ready for bed,” she replied, looking to her phone for a distraction and I sighed, going to get ready on my own.

When I did finally finish getting ready, it was already almost 11, and I slipped into bed next to Lindsey as she had turned away from me, I didn’t like the feeling, we’d always talked about our issues before bed.

“Linds.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry,” I sighed, softly placing my hand on her shoulder, she turned over and I couldn’t help but smile as her drowsy looking face, “I had to go out.”

“And leave me all day?” She pouted, “You’re mom is lovely, don’t get me wrong, I just missed you,” she sighed, turning fully to cuddle into my chest as we got comfortable, I wrapped my arms around her.

“If it’s any consolation, I did it because I needed to make sure your present for tomorrow was perfect, it has to be.”

She opened her eyes to look at me with her icy blues, “That’s what this is all about?” She had a slight smirk on her face and I nodded.

“Trust me, it has to be great.”

“Whatever you say,” she said, “I’m sorry for being mad, I really did just miss you.”

I chuckled, “I missed you too,” I said, a long pause after that before I said, “I could spent the rest of my life with you... like this.”

I could feel her smile against my chest, “I could too.”

And with that, we fell asleep.

timeskip

The next morning had anxiety written all over it, I was nervous and scattered, but pulled myself together in the morning. We laid in of course until around 10, everyone getting out of the house before we got up as planned.

My mother would take the ring up to the mountain so I wouldn’t be caught with it. I got up first, leaving Lindsey to sleep a little longer, I went downstairs and made breakfast, avocado toast, eggs, coffee, her favorite.

“Whats all this?” I looked up to find Lindsey, already gotten ready for the day, standing at the bottom of the stairs, “Where is everyone?”

“Part of the gift,” I said, as she sat down at the dining table, “They all wanted to go shopping apparently and I didn’t want to get you up.”

“Thanks baby,” she said, pecking my lips before we did go to our food.

After breakfast Lindsey cleaned up while I got ready. When I came downstairs, I was excited to start dragging Lindsey into the day, almost overly excited.

“You ready?” I asked.

“For what?” She laughed as she looked up from her phone, her dazzling smile and cute laugh almost making me pass out completely.

“You really are so beautiful you know,” I said dopy, as she stood up, I pulled her into a tight hug, and she pulled back, scattering kisses on my face that made me laugh.

“Stop, it tickles!” I giggled and she laughed again as we embraced, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said head on my shoulder, “So... what are we doing today? This is the ist I’ve seen you plan for anything.”

“I know,” I laughed, “All you have to do is follow,” I smiled.

“Oh god,” she laughed, “Is this gonna be a mess?”

“I hope not,” I smiled, pulling her to the front door, “Now come on, let’s go!”

Our first stop was the ice rink at the mall, I hated ice skating, but Lindsey was a Colorado native who adored these winter sports. I didn’t want to rent the whole rink because I felt like that’d give the proposal away, and anyway, it was a good excuse to get to the next activity when it got crowded.

We skated for at least an hour and a half, and I never got use to it, fumbling and falling over my own feet as Lindsey skated right by, laughing as she watched me absolutely bomb.

“Okay, as much as I love skating, I love you more and cannot watch you face plant on the ice anymore,” she laughed as she hoisted me up from the ground.

“Thank god,” I mumbled as we got off the ice, thanking the front desk before leaving.

“What next muestro,” she asked and I chuckled.

“You’ll see,” I replied.

Our next stop was the Red Butte Garden, a beautiful garden with many types of evergreens and flowers, mostly inside greenhouses due to the cold weather. But it was beautiful, and after buying some hot chocolate, we were able to spent hours in there looking around. I found ways to sneak around a bit, going to the bathroom at one point just to check everyone was almost in place.

Lindsey and I spent hours in that garden, something she just adored. After that we went to go get churros before heading home to watch a movie or two before we’d head to the mountain trail.

By the time the second movie was over, I stood up, “One last thing babe.”

“It’s almost midnight, what else could you possibly have?” She asked with a laugh.

“I know your tired, but I need you to get on some really warm clothes and then put this blindfold on.

“A blindfold?” She asked as I tossed it at her, “That’s a little weird,” she smirked and I rolled my eyes.

“We’re going out Linds, don’t get any ideas, trust me okay.”

She sighed, “I’m tired, but now I’m interested, I’ll bite.”

“Okay, it’s literally a two minute walk, just trust me okay,” I said.

“I’ve been doing that up to this point so I might as well,” she laughed and I kissed her cheek, holding her hand as I guided her up the mountain, it was perfect, 10 to 12.

I was so happy to see the whole team on the mountain, both Lindsey’s family and mine standing there too in coats and warm clothing.

“You warm enough babe?” I asked as we got to the top, me waving at everyone with a huge smile, this was successful as far as I was concerned.

“Yeah, can I take it off now?” She asked.

“Yeah go ahead,” I said, and she did, of course she was facing the arch looming out to the moonlight.

“Wow,” she said breathlessly, “This is beautiful,” she said.

“Turn around,” I said next to her.

“Hmmm?” She asked confused.

“Look behind you,” I whispered, she did, gasping.

“OH MY GOD,” she yelled and everyone laughed.

She kissed my lips before running around to greet everyone, we managed to get around everyone until Ashlyn stood on a rock to count us down to midnight. We all had champagne in our hands, ready for the new year.

I stood there with Lindsey, my mother passing behind my back and dripping the ring in my back pocket. We looked out from the arch towards the night sky.

“3...2...1... HAPPY NEW YEAR!” We yelled, I pulled Lindsey in for a kiss, the fireworks sparking just at the right moment and as we pulled apart she smiled, I leaned in close.

“Look at the fireworks,” I said, backing up behind her and finally being able to do what I’d planned for weeks.

“Will,” she read with the first boom, cameras clicking and recording, “You,” she read next, still not getting it until the last boom, “marry me.”

“Linds,” I said and she spun around, eyes wide as she clasped her hand over her mouth in shock, “Lindsey Michelle Horan. Ive been with you for four years and in that time I’ve realized that I want to be with you for the rest of my life, through thick and thin, good times and bad. I want to watch us grow, I want to be with you and only you. And so now I’m asking, if you, Lindsey, will marry me?”

I looked at her waiting, and through tears and a gasps she managed to respond, “Yes,” she replied, coming over as I slipped the ring on her finger, standing up and wrapping her in a hug, pushing our lips together amongst the wolf whistles and cheers.

“This was the present?” She asked wiping tears away and I nodded, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” I smiled, tearing up myself.

“And you were all in on this?!” She yelled at them, gaining laughs from them as they nodded.

“Nice holiday surprise then huh?” I asked.

“The best,” she smiled.

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

Ok, so I’ve tried and tried several times to get this posted, we’ll see if this is the time it goes through. Half the reason why this review series has slowed down is not just the multitude of real life stuff I have to deal with, but also Tumblr just refusing to work with me and deleting my posts. I also can’t save my work else where due to Tumblr messing up the formatting. It’s been a frustrating mess and so far no one @staff​ has come up with a tech solution or work around. 

Summary: Rapunzel helps to rebuild Old Corona, (after its near destruction from the Black Rocks) which will become the permanent home of Red and Angry, who have returned to Corona to settle down. However, she begins to notice strange footprints around the area, as well as the livestock becoming more unruly and fearful. The group comes across a monster hunter named Creighton, who explains to the group that the area is being stalked by a werewolf, who possessed one of Corona's citizens. Aiming to save this person rather than kill them, Rapunzel sets out to find who it is. 

When Was This Decided?

No seriously, when was this decided? It’s a pretty big leap go from ‘the rocks makes various towns inhabitable’ to ‘let’s rebuild!’ What’s changed here? Cause the rocks haven’t been removed and Rapunzel failed in her mission to nullify their power. In fact the rocks were not only reawaken in the second season finale but shown to be under the power of someone who’s intentions were made unclear to the heroes.

So I ask again; who thought this was safe thing to do now? What provisions have been made to accommodate the rocks? They blocked the well, remember, and destroyed the fields; how are the people getting food and water? 

And most importantly why wasn’t the audience informed beforehand? When you change up the status quo in a story you need to provide just cause to the viewers. I legit thought I had accidently skipped an episode when I first watched because this plot point was not set up properly.  

Why Were They Ever Left Alone to Begin With?

In a story where neglect is a central theme and motivating factor for all the main characters, it is super tone deaf to have those same characters perpetuating neglect themselves. The decision to live on their own should not be left up to Angry and Red because they are children. Children are not mature enough to provide for themselves neither emotionally nor physically and when placed in situations where they have to do so it psychologically damages them. Which the series already showcased with Varian so why is this suddenly deemed ok? 

This Completely Undermines the Past Two Seasons

The entire conflict of the past two seasons was the rocks forcing people out of their homes. Eugene was made an orphan from them, Varian lost his entire support group because them, they drove out the Saporians from their encampment which prompted them to invade Corona, and Rapunzel and company spent an entire year on the road trying to find a way to stop them from spreading supposedly. 

All of that has now been flushed down the drain with this decision. And its super insulting to watch because it’s the writers telling us that we’ve wasted our time caring about this plot for two years. You don’t resolve major conflicts off screen and without explanation; it’s lazy!  

Also Where Is Varian and Quirin During All This?

This is not only their home and legal charge, but it’s also the ending to their ongoing story, and they’re not even here in a silent cameo. 

Wouldn’t Quirin be overseeing the rebuilding of his town? Wouldn’t Varian be using his skills to find workable engineering solutions for them, fulling his season one goal of saving his home and making his village better with his inventions? Also wouldn’t Edmund want to catch up with his brother and help out now that he’s here? 

In fact not a single person who actually lives in Old Corona is to be found in these opening shots. 

Oh, But We Do Get Earl

Earl might be from Old Corona, or he might not be. We’ve literally never seen him before. The artists had to create a brand new character model for this character, the writers had to write new lines for him, and the casting director had to hire an actor and have him record these lines for only less than a minute of screen time, never to be seen again. Even though they legit had shepherd models already to go from season one that they could have used. It’s a waste of resources and a prime example of the mismanagement going on in this show. 

It’s Too Late In the Series to Waste Time On a New One Off Villain

Speaking of a waste, Creighton might have more story reasons to appear in this episode than Earl does but her inclusion is still a poor decision. The show already has an overabundance of villains, so many in fact that they shipped the bulk of them off in season two, and this is the final season; the season where we should be wrapping up plots and minor characters stories not kicking off new ones.

Taken on her own Creighton isn’t a bad character presa, she works for the episode, but when we could have gotten a resolution to Caine’s, Hector’s, or the Disciples’ story arcs instead it highlights how misused the series assets are. 

All This Lore Will Be Forgotten In Just a Few Episodes Time

We finally get like some magical rules and backstory only for future episodes to ignore it from here on afterwards. Red can turn into a werewolf whenever she pleases, night or day, with little explanation as for why.  

Just Arrest Her Rapunzel

You’re the acting queen. You have the power and the right to arrest or even merely detain someone who is threating your citizens and refuses to leave. In fact it’s kind of your job. You don't even have to throw her in a dungeon if you thought that too cruel. Just lock her up in a nice room somewhere in the castle until you’ve sorted out the mess yourself. 

The series wants to treat Rapunzel as the underdog when she isn’t, and her failure to wield her power effectively doesn’t make her look ‘nice’ it just makes her look stupid and grossly incompetent. This is a conflict that didn’t need to have happened and Rapunzel let it happen.  

Oh, So Now Y'all Riot

You didn’t complain when the king orphaned children with his crack down on crime. You rolled over as he dolled out overly harsh punishments to poor people who committed minor offences. You gleefully went along with the royals as they  scapegoated a child for their mistakes, even as they endangered your homes.  And ya’ll sat on your asses while invaders pulled off a coup and enslaved you. 

But this is what you get mad over? A rumor about a mythical creature existing that your princess has zero control over. Seriously? 

Man, I hate the townspeople in this show. 

Pointless Dream Sequence Is Pointless

This scene tells the audience nothing new and just wastes screen time. 

This Is the Wrong Lesson to Focus On Rapunzel

We do not tell the 12 year old to unload their phycological issues onto their baby sister!

You’re telling me parents were involved in writing this show? What the hell!?

Rapunzel you are the adult here. At 20 now you should be more adept to handle listening to the deep seated emotional traumas of a little girl than a fucking 10 year old! And if you’re not, or don’t want to, then it’s your job to find another adult who will. 

That’s the core problem with this entire episode. It treats Red’s and Angry’s problems as some eternal issue that they need to work out and not as the inherent failure of the adults around them that it is. 

It is neither Red’s nor Angry’s decision on weather or not they get live on their own. Nor is it their responsibility to be each other’s therapist. Yes, a change in living arrangements is always stressful and for children with abandonment issues it can be hard to readjust, but that’s when you need to step it up and deal with the problem; not shove it off onto the kids themselves! 

Monty Is Useless

Is this all Monty is good for? Being a red herring in ridiculously simple mysteries? Is this why we wasted a whole episode introducing him back in season one? Really?

Why Are We Still Treating Old Corona As Being Separate from Corona Itself?

Look, I get that it’s a joke, but it’s a joke that highlights how poorly thought out the worldbuilding is in the series. Is the Coronan government in charge of Old Corona or not? If so then you can just make those lease laws yourself as the acting regent Eugene. If not then Frederic shouldn’t have had any say in the matter of relocating Old Corona’s citizens nor putting a child outside of his jurisdiction under arrest.

But more importantly this is a just a repeat of that vague level of responsibility Rapunzel has for people who live off the island. She can’t order a whole village to be rebuilt while simultaneously claiming that she bares no accountability for Varian and Quirin’s problems in season one. 

Replacing Guns with Crossbows Isn’t the Safe Option That the Censors Think It Is

I find it kind of amusing that censors will ban showing a 17th century blunderbuss but allow it to be replaced by a weapon that is still mass produced today and can be bought in any Walmart across the country. Like I’m a major advocate for gun regulation in real life, but even I have to find this to be a bit silly. Crossbows aren’t some fantasy weapon. People still own and use them. But it would be seriously hard to get ahold of a working antique firearm.  

Seriously This Is How the Girls Have Been Living and the Adults Haven’t Done Anything About It Until Now?

I feel like I’m beating a dead horse by now, but it’s so engrained into the episode I have to keep bringing it up. The show itself is visually telling us that Red and Angry can’t keep living this way, but it never wants to call Rapunzel and the other adults out for not rescuing them from this life sooner. 

So All This Tells Me Is That Rapunzel Could Have Easily Checked Up On Varian In Painter’s Block, But Didn’t.

Remember they’re right next to Old Corona; meaning that Janus Point is also right next to Old Corona. Meaning that Rapunzel could easily have checked up on Varian right after Painter’s Block and choose not to. With each passing episode Rapunzel has less and less excuse for her behavior in season one. 

Yeah Remember that Plot Point That Wound Up Being Entirely Irrelevant to the Story?

In jokes don’t cover your ass when you make poor writing choices. Quite the opposite in fact as all you’ve done is remind the audience of all the various dangling plot threads that you will fail to follow up on. The disciples plot goes no where and serves no purpose, and it should not have been introduced as this big important thing if you weren’t going to do anything with it. 

Nice Idea, Poor Execution

I’ve heard fans of this episode tell me that they enjoy it because of this scene with Red. If you’re a naturally introverted person or neurodivergent and have trouble communicating at times then Red’s speech here can strike a cord. Which is cool; I’ll never deny someone’s feelings and if a piece of media speaks to you on a personal level for whatever reason that is great. What I’m here to discuss though is story structure and whether or not the story’s themes are presented well in context of what it’s set up. 

The conflict here does not work from a pure structural standpoint because it’s a surface level deflection of the real issues. Red’s problem isn’t that she is being ignored, it's that she’s been abandoned. Now communication issues can arise from that abandonment and feeling heard can be step forward in working those issues out, but Red’s central trauma isn’t going to be magically fixed by people ‘listening’ to her, i.e. being granted whatever she wants, but by providing her with a real home and with a real guardian to look after her. 

Because what Red wants on a surface level is harmful to her, and the reasons why she wants what she wants needs to be addressed more so than then sedating her angry outbursts in the moment. This is treating the symptoms not the cause.

So What Is or Isn’t Real About the Curse?

Once again, we finally get some actual lore and rules for magic and the writers are already throwing it away during the same episode they are introduced. I now have as little context for how the wolf curse works within the Tangled world as I did before the episode started. 

This Is Sweet, But Once Again Context Brings It Down.

So just to reiterate, this a surface level resolution to the conflict of the episode that doesn’t actually address anything. It might feel like an appropriate ending but only if you ignore the fact that Red and Angry are orphans who’ve been abandoned but the adults. 

Angry apologizing here to Red does not solve any of their problems, especially since Angry, as a child herself, is not responsible for her sister’s behavior, feelings, nor well being. That falls to the adults and they fail to address Red’s core issues and their own failings to her in their apologies as well. Not to mention that the very next scene undermines any optional progress that could have been made here. 

Listening to Someone Does Not Mean Giving Them Whatever They Want

This does not fix anything. Red and Angry are still left to live on their own without any real supervision. Giving them a big play house is not providing for them, it’s spoiling them. Would you let all the other orphans in the local orphanage roam free without an adult to take care of them? No!? Gee I wonder why? Could it be because letting a 12 and 10 year old raise themselves is a very stupid idea? One that will potentially damage them later in life assuming that they don't get themselves killed in the meantime. 

Moreover this is yet another example of the series overall problem with not understanding that compromise and resolving conflicts does not mean rewarding the characters at the end with everything that they want without having them work for it. That’s not how life works and it’s not how good story telling works. 

This Is Beyond Irresponsible

No! Bad Show! Bad! 

You do not get to pretend that negligence is the same thing as compromise. Yes I know Eugene said to come to him when they have a problem, but as demonstrated by this very episode children do not always know when to ask for help nor can they always find it when needed, that is why parents exist!  

Nor does the show get a free pass for turning it’s main characters into child abusers who neglected three minors multiple times now. Even when they themselves are victims of that same abuse!

How utterly blinkered do you have to be to not see the problem here? 

It’s the Return of the Pointless Parallels

Let me count the ways for how stupid this is. 

Red and Angry’s conflict has no impact on the on going narrative. Even with them now being reoccurring characters they still manage to contribute nothing to the future storylines involving Cass. 

Neither Rapunzel nor Cassandra learn anything from Red and Angry’s spat; Rapunzel because she refuses to acknowledge her own flaws and Cassandra’s not even here for any of it. 

The sister’s dynamic between Raps and Cass is not well established and the writers mange to piss all over it by series end because of gay baiting and poor writing. Therefore relying on lazy parallels to other siblings in the show to bolster this connection falls flat.  

Red and Angry’s argument has nothing in common with Rapunzel and Cass’s current fighting. One is about abandonment issues and the other is about shallow validation. Trying to tie these two themes together actually winds up undermining both conflicts. 

Red and Angry are children. Rapunzel and Cassandra are not. That very much matters. 

Red and Angry didn’t drag innocent people into their petty bitch fight and endanger them because they wanted to feel special. 

This Makes Zero Sense

I don’t know; she looked pretty happy during Crossing the Line. 

She was also able to control the rocks just fine then, so what happened? 

Not to mention soon after this Zhan Tiri is telling her she needs some sort of incantation to control the rocks, despite being able to already control the rocks.... 

It’s almost as if the writers are full of shit and don’t actually know what they’re doing. 

So Are We Remembering the Burnt Hand or Not?

Does the hand matter or not? Is it ever a motivating factor in what Cassandra decides to do? Is her waning control over the rocks connected to her burnt hand; even though having a burnt hand is what allowed her grab the moonstone in the first place? Did the moonstone heal the hand? Does Raps singing the healing incantation later on heal it? Does Cass have a forever burnt hand? 

Who the fuck knows! 

Not the writers that’s for sure, cause it never comes up again. 

Don’t introduce plot points and then not resolve them. That’s writing 101 guys. 

Wait if she needs the incantation to control the rocks and the angry thing is a lie, then how the heck is she controlling them just now? Make up your dang mind show! 

I swear I lose brain cells whenever I have to rewatch the evil Cassandra plot. It is so dumb  you guys.... so, so dumb. 

Conclusion

It’s not the worst thing ever but series has far better episodes on offer than this one. Even in a season as suck ass as season three. 

So there’s praying that this review posts this time and if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me in my projects feel free to leave a tip on my Ko-Fi. Thank you. 

https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

[hargrove-mayfields]

A Password And A Promise

💕 Happy Valentine's Day!!! You guys are all my Valentines, thank you, thank you, thank you so much for all the positive reception! 💕

It’s day five of the week of love and today’s prompt that I chose was Snuggling for Warmth!! Read here or on ao3 at ej_writer !

Word Count: 3,649

Rating: T

First winter in the Midwest, and Billy’s been out in the snow for hours on end.

He’d like to say that he has no idea why he’s doing this, but he does. Chief Hopper asked him to.

As if his record wasn’t already bad enough, with the fights and the vandalism and all the other bad things he’d done since his arrival in Hawkins, he just had to go and get himself a DUI charge.

He’d been speeding off to some middle schoolers house, schnockered after a party to pick his sister up when he got pulled over. He’d begged the chief to let him off easy, promised he’d never pick up another bottle if it meant that the DUI didn’t make it on file.

And the chief, he understood that. He’d been the one to ask Billy a few questions when he was admitted to the hospital in mid-November and a nurse, recognizing the signs of abuse, asked him to come check it out. Despite Billy’s best efforts, the Hopper’d wormed it out of him that his father had been the one to land him there.

So when he made his plea, it didn’t take much convincing to get him to help him out.

Still, he couldn’t justifiably let Billy walk away unpunished for driving drunk, especially being that, with the new legislation Indiana was rolling out, he was now way under the age limit. To compromise, he opted to make him do community service instead.

Had Billy known how that would turn out for him, he might’ve rather just taken the beating for the DUI than doing three hours of shoveling sidewalks. A kick to the ribs or a punch to the jaw probably would’ve hurt less than the ache in his bones, feeling more and more like they were made out of heavy lead, or the sting of the cold air on his fingers and on his face.

For as many years as he had lived in California, he’d never seen snow stick to the ground for more than a few minutes, if at all, and he’d definitely never had to wear more than a jacket to protect himself from cold weather.

Now, having underestimated just how cold snow could actually get, he was freezing his ass off. He didn’t even have a stupid pair of gloves or anything, mouthing but a layer of thin denim to protect him from the record low temperatures.

Just because the universe hated him, the beating down snow wouldn’t slow down either. Not only were his clothes getting soaked completely through, his jacket a sopping mess and his boots more like rain barrels than shoes, but basically every time he cleared a sidewalk off, it'd be covered again before he reached the end.

Under all that snow, it was icy as all hell too, getting more so by the minute. Biker boots weren’t designed to walk on ice, and apparently nobody around these parts was decent enough to even sprinkle out a little ice melt before a storm, so more than a few times, he’d hit an icy patch and wipe the hell out. Thanks to a combination of the sun going down so early and the bitter freezing temperatures, there was nobody around to watch his feet go out from under him, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch.

He was worn down the bone by the time he finally reached Loch Nora, the first place where he could catch a damn break. Everyone up in that little neighborhood was rich enough to pay their lawn boys to scrape and salt the sidewalks for them, and didn't need some scraggly teenager avoiding a criminal record to do it for them.

Without doing any work it got even colder, and he was pretty sure he was going to get hypothermia and keel over in some hoity-toity’s lawn. His hair was frozen, his lungs burned from the cold air leaving him unable to catch his breath, and his teeth were chattering. He thought that shit only happened in the cartoons.

Billy's starting to realize that when Hopper had told him five hours, he probably hadn’t meant all at once. But nobody told him that the weather could be like this, he thought he would just be able to get it all out of the way now, when he could be certain there even was snow to shovel and no Boy Scouts giving him a run for his money.

Too bad he’d probably freeze to death before he finished.

But before that can happen, he’s intercepted by the double doors at 8253 swinging open, nearly jumping out of his skin when the wind catches it and hits it off the side of the house.

Were it literally anybody else shouting to him from their stoop, he’d have just kept walking. But the boy who lived in the mansion at 8253 was none other than Steve Harrington, who called out to him over the wind, “Billy? What the shit are you doin’ out here, man?”

Steve Harrington, who had apologized first for Billy kicking his ass, and started hanging out with him before the scars even healed. He apparently had the superpower to make friends with absolutely anybody, even difficult bullies who made every effort to keep him from doing exactly that.

Don’t get him wrong, being buddy-buddy with Steve Harrington was definitely something he was interested in, but he wasn’t a fan of the way he pretended absolutely nothing was wrong after they fought. He’d concussed him, had to be drugged before he’d stop beating him, and Steve still was the first to reach out.

There had to be some sort of a catch to that kindness, and Billy just wasn’t looking to get too attached.

And yet, Billy stopped for him, when he called out, so maybe it wouldn’t have been entirely truthful to say that he was particularly bothered by Steve’s persistence. If you pressed him hard enough, he might even admit he thought it was kind of endearing.

“Just doing my civic duty, Harrington.” He could kick himself for how weak his voice sounds.

“It’s below zero, Billy. Why don’t you come in?” There’s something like concern in the way he says it, and it makes Billy want to walk away.

“I’ll pass.”

But Steve’s not having it, puts a hand on his hip. “I think the fuck you won’t. Get in here man.”

Billy might be stubborn, but Steve won’t take no for an answer. He knows when he’s lost, so he shoves the handle of the snow shovel towards Steve, who rolls his eyes and takes it, leaves it lean beside the door, and shoulders past Steve into his mansion, instantly feeling like he was melting in the dry warmth that radiated from the house.

Steve shuts the door behind them and hangs his scarf on a coat rack by the door. His boots and coat follow, and he makes Billy do the same. They both grimace at the puddle of water that spills out of Billy’s boot when it tips over.

“Jesus dude, how long were you out there?”

Billy shrugs, winces at the movement of sore shoulders, and lies. He wouldn’t want Steve to make a fuss if he knew. “Dunno. Lost track of the time.”

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Steve plods up carpeted steps, leaving Billy to stand awkwardly on the door mat so he doesn’t drip all over the hardwood floors.

He takes the moment alone to take in his surroundings.

The Harringtons were more than well off, everybody knew that, but being inside of their house, their goddamned mansion, is nothing like Billy expected.

Just from where he’s standing at the door, he can see a living room furnished with big plush couches and a TV in an entertainment center the size of the whole wall. Across from it is the entrance to a dining room with more chairs than a family of three needed at a long table, chandelier overhead.

There were potted plants in every corner and paintings and family photos hung on every wall. Knick-knacks, probably all ordered from some magazine like his own step mom would day dream about shopping from, adorned every last unaided surface, from the huge console record player to every side table and wall shelf.

The longer he looked though, the more Billy noticed all the little things, like cobwebs in the high corners, and dust built up on the wax fruit, the 1979 time stamp on the most recent of their family photos. It wasn’t hard to piece together that this place was just a set.

Suddenly the obnoxiously high ceilings and the fancy decorations felt a lot less like grandeur, and a lot more suffocating. Billy felt bad knowing Steve was here all the time by himself, the sole pretender playing this part of the perfect family.

But then he’s brought out of his reflections by Steve hurrying back down the steps with a neatly folded stack of clothes in hand that he’s shoving towards him.

“The hell are these?”

“A change of clothes.” Billy just looks at him, scrunching his nose at the suggestion, and still won’t take them. “Dude you’re soaked to the bone, you’ll never get warm if you don’t get outta those clothes.”

Billy smirks, raises an eyebrow, but he takes the clothes.

Steve, realizing he could’ve worded that a little better blushes, just the faintest dusting of pink on his pale cheeks. “Shut up man. Bathroom’s down the hall to the right.”

Even the Harrington’s bathroom is the pinnacle of wealthy interior design. Not only is the room as big as Billy’s entire living room, but it’s just as overly designed as the rest of the house.

The walls are black and gold, marbled in the most gaudy flaunting of money Billy’d ever seen. A huge clawfoot tub was settled in the counter, framed by beige tile counters. There was a mirror surrounded by lights right above the sink that spanned almost the entire wall. It felt like something straight out of a magazine. Hell, it probably was.

Even the bathroom in this place makes Billy feel out of place, the luxury of it all so much unlike what he was used to.

It’s warm in the bathroom, the shut door and the smaller space collecting keeping the heat in, and it makes his clothes start to feel gross on his skin, way too cold in contrast. He swallows his pride and looks at what Steve gave him to change into.

There’s two shirts, a henley and a drug rug, a pair of fleece pajama pants, and some fuzzy hospital socks with the grips on the bottom.

Before he puts his shirt on, he notices there’s bruises on his shoulders, on his back and his elbows, from the many times the ice had sent his feet out from under him, but honestly, it gives him this strange sense of pride, knowing he put them there himself.

He was more than used to marks on his skin, put there by an angry father and his rage, so it was a welcome change to know he’d just gotten these ones just from being clumsy. He almost didn’t want to cover them up, but another shiver ran up his spine, causing goose pimples to pop up all over his body, and he elected to slip the two shirts Steve had picked for him over his head, just to keep himself from freezing.

Wearing Steve’s clothes makes him look soft in every way that was not like him. Without his usual denim and leather, he just looked like the boring version of himself. No longer the stereotypical image of high school bad boy he tries so hard for, he just plain old Billy.

He likes it. A lot. Stares at himself in that huge mirror for longer than is probably considered normal before deciding he should leave the bathroom.

Back in the living room, there’s a huge glass protected fireplace on the far wall, in front of which Steve’s on his knees currently trying, and failing, to start a fire up in. At home, all Billy had was a dinky plug in fireplace that stank like hot dust, but he knew how to start a fire regardless.

He’d been there when his father burnt all of his mother’s things she’d left behind.

“You need a starter.”

Steve jumps, apparently having not noticed Billy coming into the room. “What, like gas?”

“Jesus Christ, no, not like gas. We're inside, doofus.” He has to laugh at Steve’s incompetence, but he offers his help. “You have any of those bricks?”

“These?” Steve opens a drawer beside the fireplace full of fire starters, and Billy realizes this is just another piece of the set. He’d be the first person to actually use this fireplace in years, if anyone even ever had before him.

“Yeah, those.” He confirms, but Steve just sits there, doesn’t know what to do with it. “Just put it under the wood and light it.”

“Huh.” Steve looks at the fire he made, seemingly a little surprised that it worked, brushes his hands on his pants and turns to Billy. He looks him up and down, taking in how he looked in the change of clothes and grins as he says, “You look cozy.”

Billy, trying to make up for the way his heart starts pounding from the observation, bites back, “And you look like a gracious host who’s going to make me a hot coffee.”

Steve looks like he thinks for a second before he asks, “Would you settle for hot cocoa?”

“I don’t care, long as it’s warm.”

Billy waits until Steve disappears around the corner into the kitchen before he sits down cross legged on the floor in front of the fire place.

The warmth of the fire radiates over him in a way that brings feeling back to his body, is almost soothing.

When he was little, he could remember having bonfires on cool summer nights out back of their first house in California. The lick of the flames against wood, the way the bright tendrils of fire would dance used to be so calming. He’d always fall asleep outside in a canvas lawn chair, and wake up the next morning tucked into his bed.

But the heat is too much, makes his skin itch, burning from the inside out in a way that wasn’t so pleasant.

He remembers his father, drunk off his ass, dragging him out to that same fire pit by his arm, leaving welts on soft skin, forcing him to watch as he burned every memory they had of his mother. Every picture, every possession, every shred of clothing, burnt to ash until there was nothing left but her voice on the other end of a telephone, and even that stopped after a little while.

He doesn’t notice Steve come back from the kitchen, he’s too caught up in the flames, curling up around the wood and leaving burnt destruction in its wake.

Too entranced by the fire warming him up and freezing him over at the same time. The brightness of it leaves black and pink spots on his vision from how intensely he’d been staring.

“I didn’t have any marshmallows so I-” Steve stops talking when he sees Billy, sees that he’s crying, sitting stock still and just, staring into the fire place. “Oh.”

Billy startles from the sound of his voice, blinks too fast, trying to chase away the splotches of light burnt into his eyes. The action forces him to realize there are tears wetting cheeks, which he wipes at a little too aggressive with his sleeve, hoping Steve won’t say anything.

And he doesn’t, he just reaches down and hands him a mug, not letting go until Billy's got both hands on it and he’s sure he won’t drop it. Billy hadn’t noticed himself shaking until he saw the way the cocoa rippled in the red mug.

Steve clears his throat, trying to think of the right thing to say. “You still cold?”

“No shit. I was out there for three hours.” It’s harsh, overcompensating for sure.

Steve nods, but points out his inconsistency. “I thought you lost track of time?”

“My brain thawed out and I remembered.” He mumbles. It makes Steve laughs, and Billy’s heart feels like it could burst.

“Well, I have some extra blankets and stuff, if you’re still cold.” Steve offers, and Billy nods in response, as if to say that that sounded nice without out actually having to admit anything.

But Steve doesn’t make any moves to go get it, just stands there shuffling his feet and looking down into his cocoa. Billy can already tell he’s going to say something that he doesn’t want to hear.

Before Steve can embarrass him, Billy asks impatient, “You gonna go get it or you gonna let me freeze?”

“Right. Yeah.” Steve bends down and sets his mug down on the lip of the fireplace and pads off to some storage closet somewhere in the mansion. Billy rolls his eyes and promptly moves it to the coffee table to keep the ceramic from heating up and burning him when he picked it up next.

Initially, Billy thinks nothing of it when Steve comes back with only one blanket. It seems perfectly reasonable to him that Steve, who had been in this well heated house presumably all day, just isn’t cold.

But when he sits back down he’s close enough that their knees bump where they’re crossed, and he spreads just the one blanket out across the both of them.

Thank god for the fact that there was already a flush on his cheeks from the fire, because Billy definitely would’ve been blushing like a little schoolgirl at that.

They don’t talk about anything, because there’s nothing too talk about. It’s a comfortable silence that settles between them, broken up only by the crackling and popping of the fire.

But after a while with nothing to distract him, to keep him aware that this was Steve’s house, Steve’s Persian rug underneath him, Steve himself sitting next to him, Billy drifts back to smoke filled lungs straining with the effort of screaming for his mom, to the fist in his hair forcing him to watch.

Steve notices in an instant, those blue eyes going dull, his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenching, and the way his nails dig into his palms.

He sets his mug back down on the coffee table behind them, and gets up on his knees. He wraps the blanket they’d been sharing around Billy’s shoulders, and then his arms, linking his fingers together so he’s hugging Billy.

Except the slightest fluttering of his eyelashes, Billy shows no signs of a reaction. Steve takes that as his motivation to keep trying, and puts a hand on the back of his neck, says, “Hey, Billy.”

It makes his breath hitch, coming out in a cut off sigh. Billy asks, a little monotonous, “What’re you doin’?”

“Keeping you warm.”

Billy appreciates him not bringing up what’s obviously happening, but his head’s only partly coming back to him, and all he has the capacity to come up with as a response is, “Oh.”

Steve squeezes him a little tighter, his face pressing against his shoulder, to get him through the rest of it, to bring him back to earth.

It’s a while before he gets anything else from Billy. Long enough that he has to move so he doesn’t kill his knees sitting up on them, and he ends up with them thrown over top of Billy’s, so they can be as close as possible.

Because Billy wasn’t exactly back there anymore, but he wasn’t quite here either. He could hear Steve, feel his arm around his shoulders, his knuckles rubbing absently up his arm, he just couldn’t reach him yet.

When he gets back in his own head, he takes a moment to figure out where he is, and once he’s got it, he hooks his hands under Steve’s thighs, pulls him the rest of the way into his lap.

He doesn’t think about boundaries, about the fact that he should be more cautious, he just leans forward, presses their foreheads together and says, barely above a whisper, “Thank you.”

“Yeah. Anything for you.” Steve’s got a smile on his face, warm and genuine and blissful, and Billy can’t help the one that forms on his to match.

That’s where they stay until morning comes around. Billy just didn’t have the energy to get up and go home so late, and Steve didn’t have the heart to make him.

He got the throw pillows down off the couch, and they went to sleep the way they were, wrapped up in each other by the fire, well after it burns out and the last of the wood is gone.

Billy wakes up stiff from sleeping on the floor, but he couldn’t have been in any place more comfortable than Steve’s arms.

What Steve had done for him was practically unheard of. It was everything he was supposed to do, inviting someone in when they were cold, helping them out when they were feeling bad, but he’d never had that before. Not from anyone.

He’d hold the memory of Steve, holding him by the fire, equal parts concerned about getting him warm and getting him out of his head, in his heart forever.

That’s what he’s thinking about when he falls back asleep with a smile on his face, how this was just the start of making so many more memories to chase out the old.

Maybe Hawkins and it’s shitty winters wouldn’t be so bad, if he could spend them all like this.

[sweetwritertanya]

Dressed Up For Halloween (Taehyung)

Summary: Taehyung decides to invite you to a party he has to attend a bit last minute. So, you end up with a cheap and basic, albeit cute, witch costume. Going to the party makes you feel pretty self-conscious and it takes him a while to notice.

Warnings: SMUT! As always, do beware of (or look forward to): erotic body touching, fingering, hand-job, unprotected sex (do as I say, not as I write, be safe!), standing sex, sex in closet, aftercare.

Word Count: 2627

Okay, so you knew it was a predictable choice, going as a witch for Halloween. But it’s not like Taehyung gave you a heads up in time, you literally had less than three days to prepare. The best costumes were already out of stock in all of the stores you knew in town, you didn’t have that much to chose from.

Even so, you actually quite liked the one you ended up purchasing. It was a three-quarter length sleeved dress with a puffy ruffled skirt, sparkling tule to give it a magical feel and a belt to bring you in at the smallest part of your body, the waist. It worked wonders for your silhouette, showcasing the best curves of your oversized frame. The small skirt, longer on the back, displayed your soft legs, covered only by fishnet tights down to your black high-heels. With a typical broom in one hand and a pointy hat in your head, a striking make-up look, you actually liked the costume.

You should have had the foresight to ask your boyfriend what he would go as. Maybe then you would have felt better about how much you stood out next to him. He showed up at your doorstep dressed as Bob Ross, with a pair of expensive denim jeans and a blue fitted silk shirt, certainly from Gucci, a paint palette in one hand and a brush on the other. The only things missing were a fluffy curly wig and a beard, but he did have his black hair curly. He looked stunning as always and, once again, you wondered how the hell you got so lucky.

“My mischievous little witch, you look ravishing tonight, honey” he compliments with a boxy smile, before kissing your lips.

It would have been a lovely day if only you had skipped the party. You knew close to no one there except for Taehyung’s close friends, and they were all busy talking with other people, important people in the business. More than that, you kept standing by as Taehyung got continuous compliments on his costume – especially from daring women – which only made you feel more and more poorly dressed.

Being pretty oblivious in nature, Taehyung didn’t notice anything strange when you excused yourself and took a place next to the cupcake’s table, lips tugging down just like your spirits for the night. Your hand reached for one of the delicious looking treats and at the first bite you knew this would be where you would probably stay the rest of the night, surrounded by your closest friend: food.

By the second treat, you are leaning against the table, avoiding eye contact with anyone and fighting back the tears gathering in your eyes. You knew you were being overly sensitive about this whole thing, that you should be stronger than this. But knowing it didn’t mean you felt it.

“Y/N, honey, the guys and I were talking about-” Taehyung shows up next to you out of nowhere, with a spring on his step and a vibrant energy radiating from him. That is, until he searches for your eyes and realizes the state you were in. “Honey! What’s wrong, what happened?”

He leans down and places his hands on your shoulders, trying to keep your gaze but you glance away every time. His joyful expression is overtaken by a worried one, broad dark eyebrows pulled together and wide defined lips slightly parted.

“Nothing, really, don’t worry about it” you try and deflect his concern, to no avail.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here first” he decides, grabbing you by the hand.

Holding your hand firmly in his large one, Taehyung leads you away from the crowd, away from the party, and you can tell he doesn’t really know exactly where to go just yet. He is just searching for a quiet place to talk to you in a building he doesn’t even know very well.

Opening a door after you two cut a corner to an empty corridor, he pushes you into a maintenance closet, with shelves on both sides and tools at the back. It was a small room that was barely large enough to fit you two comfortably. Taehyung seems to hesitate for a moment, but does end up closing the door behind you and turning on the light.

“Okay, I doubt anyone will find us here. Now, why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying. I’m on the verge of” you correct him, to which he just crosses his arms and throws you a look. You sigh and, without looking at his face, you confess what’s been bothering you so much. “I just… I wish I didn’t come here. Tae, I don’t fit in. I don’t know anyone and everyone is wearing such expensive and creative costumes while I’m… I showed up dressed up for Halloween as a witch, Tae. A witch. Like the basic bitch I am.”

“Hey!” he admonishes, taking your face in between his hands and making you look at his offended expression. “My girlfriend is anything but a basic bitch. You look better than anyone out there and idiot is anyone who doesn’t see it!”

You smile and lean your head in his hands, enjoying the comforting warmth.

“You have to say that because you’re my boyfriend. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

His demeanor changes subtly, his comforting hands leaving your face to clutch together in front of him, head hanging low and eyesight set on the floor beneath his feet.

“Not much of a boyfriend if I didn’t even realize how bad you were feeling. I’m sorry I forced you to come with me, Y/N” he apologizes, voice filled with guilt.

“Hey, none of that” is your turn to comfort him, separating his hands so you can sneak past them and hug him by the waist, chin prompted on his chest as you look up with affection. “You invited me to come and I said yes. It’s not your fault I’m feeling a bit sensitive today about all of this. And you’re doing a great job as my boyfriend so far, Taehyung.”

He smiles slightly at that, releasing his culpability with a heavy sight as he leans his forehead against yours and closes his eyes.

“Want to go home now, honey?” he asks.

“Yes, please. If you don’t mind.”

His smile stretches wider and he pecks at your lips, just a few inches away from his and just begging to be tasted. Hands resting on your wide hips, he is about to step back and guide you two back out when you stand on your toes to steal a kiss from him too, soft lips meeting in a sweet encounter.

It was supposed to just be a quick kiss, but soon a kiss turns into two and three, and then it’s too difficult to keep count anymore. Mouths refuse to part as the air in the small room thickens, your skin starts to tingle and scorch under his touch, your back hits the shelves behind you and stays constrained against them as Taehyung’s slim body presses into your soft one.

More than touch, his hands are squeezing your abundant flesh over your clothes, creating paths from your waist to your lower back, up to your shoulder and again down your sides. Your cheeks turn red in crimson heat, eager hands pulling at the silk shirt to untuck them so you can run your fingers directly against the warm skin of his hips and lower spine. Taehyung shudders and sighs under your touch and your stomach clenches in desire for so much more.

As much as your mind logically understands that you shouldn’t keep going, your body screams for more and more. So, you don’t even try to stop him when Taehyung’s wondering hands find themselves at your thighs, playing with the fishnet tights, digits sneaking in between the holes to press against your flesh.

“Oh, Tae…!” you whisper, arching your back and clawing at his waist.

“You want to stop?” he immediately questions, voice dripping with repressed lust.

“God, no!”

He chuckles and attaches his beautiful lips to the side of your neck while his hands grew busy. The tights added no constriction as he grazed his finger over your clothed core, charging up the already electrified pressure down in your womb. The black panties hide the growing stain right at your crotch but there is little you can do to hide how turned on you are once he pulls the garment aside and dips his digits directly into your velvet center.

You jump slightly at the touch, mewling as you hold on to his shoulders, letting your legs fall a bit more apart to give him better access.

“You are so wet, darling” he informs, as if you didn’t know, with a hint of wonder and almost disbelief behind his tone.

Simply mewling into his chest at that, his fingers start a lazy path up and down your slick slit, teasing at your clenching hole and drawing circles at the little engorged pearl on the other side of your lower lips. You feel like your insides are bowling, a desperation taking over your brain and body that only he could originate.

When his lips reach yours once again, tilting his head to the right so he can taste you fully, that’s when he slides the first finger in, a delectably long finger of his that drag against your clenching walls in the most pleasurable ways. He swallows your moans as he keeps kissing you, tongue revolving around yours at a similar pace his finger slid in and out of you. As your breathing grows rapidly shallow, he moves his mouth to instead bite at your ear, at the same time he decides to add another finger.

The stretch is wonderful in the most shameless ways and when he starts scissoring them inside while keeping them knuckle deep in you, the legs holding you up almost gave out. Then he curls his fingers, deep inside and grazing your cervix, right at that spot that clouded your vision with white spots of light. With a movement of his thumb against your sensitive clit, you come undone completely and it takes all of your inner strength not to yell out as the aching coil unfurled from within.

He allows you a moment to regain control over your thoughts, fingers still buried in you but immobile. When you lean back against the shelves, spent but functional again, he removes them and you watch with hooded eyes as he licks them clean, almost shyly. His eyes were as dark as his hair, cheeks tinted pink and lips bruised red.

“Do you… want to continue this back home? I may need a few minutes before we leave” he states, looking down at himself before raising his eyes back at you.

You follow his glance and realize what he was talking about. Even in denim jeans, there was no hiding the enormous bulge pressing against his zipper. It would be difficult to get out of here without anyone noticing it.

“Maybe we don’t need to go back home to continue” you suggest, biting your bottom lip as you allow your hands to fall from his shoulders down his chest and tug at his belt.

A shaky grunt leaves your boyfriend’s throat and he tilts your head up towards him. You see passion and lust behind his look as he brushes his thumb over your lips and then gives you his fingers for you lick any remaining trace of yourself clean. You suck on his digits at the same your hands undid the belt and pulled the pants down, tasting both his own unique sweet and spicy flavor as well as your own.

Slowly, you pull at the hem of his boxers to free his erection and pull it down to where his pants had fallen, just above his knees. Taehyung’s cock stood tall and proud, flushed a dark pink and curving up ever so slightly. The dying flame at the pit of your stomach flared back up intensely at the sight.

One hand pulling at his collar so you can kiss him seductively, the other one encircles his length and, with a rough grip, pumps up and down the erect dick. Grunts bubble up his throat as you do so, his hands grasping at your arms to ground himself. You use your fingers and thumb to stroke over the flushed tip while you move your fist around him and he almost chokes.

“Feeling good?” you question with your lips pressing just below his hear.

“Y-yeah, very” he manages to respond.

He would prove it soon enough, when after just a few more pumps of your hand leave him mad with desire and he steps back from you. Removing your hands from him, he ends up ripping your fishnets between your thighs in the attempt to pull them off and pushes your panties aside, aligning himself with your entrance while lifting one of your bulky legs with a hand beneath the knee.

He plunges inside in a swift move, your welcoming warm walls embracing him with pleasure. It makes the hair behind your neck stand up and a moany sigh escape you.

“Those were my only fishnets, Tae” you complain even in the midst of all these erotic sensations.

“Sorry, I’ll buy you new ones” he promises in a breathy whisper.

He starts rocking his hips back and forward, his cock inside pulsating and filling you completely as the tip nestled right up against your cervix. You have to take the back of your hand against your mouth to keep you from making noise, the heavenly feeling of his shaft dragging inside your walls too much for you handle. Every time his pelvis snaps against yours, the impact reaches your protruding clit and you jolt, heat rising off of you.

Your pliant muscles fit snuggly around his throbbing haft and the slickness increases as the fire grows, pressure building rapidly deep and low in your belly. Taehyung’s face was flushed and glistening with a thin layer of sweat, you could see the throb of blood on his temples as his hips snap forward harder and faster, deeper and desperate. The grip on your leg is so strong it may leave an imprint of his fingers and you don’t care one bit as his cock suddenly hits that hidden spot inside and you cried out into your fist, eyes closed and back arched.

Your body melts into pleasure that uncoiled from your womb and erupted abruptly, leaving your brain dizzy and muscles clenched in the pleasurable high until they gave out in the most satisfying release. Feeling your walls sucking him dry as they collapse around his cock, Taehyung thrusts just a couple of times before his own release floods through him like water, crashing down in molten waves that have him quivering and spilling inside of you.

Spent and tired, Taehyung still manages to reach for a box of tissue paper they had in store and take out a few of them. Slowly, almost painfully, he slips out from you and cleans the mixture of juices that spill out with the up most care. He throws the dirty tissues to the garbage can beneath the cleaning cart and pulls your panties back up as well as rearrange your tights. Then he buckles himself back up but not without leaning down to kiss your smiling lips one last time.

“Let’s get out of here and throw our own Halloween party back at home? Just the two of us?” he proposes, knowing perfectly well that was your ideal scenario.

“Yes, please” you smile with adoration at him and agree.

[marril96]

Extremely Cuddly, Shockingly Soft and Lovely

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: After helping the Winchesters out with a case, Rowena is being unusually affectionate.

A/N: Based on this prompt by my lovely friend @impala-1979

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian​

*****

Of all the ways Rowena could have greeted you, the last thing you expected was a bone-crushing hug. You'd barely said, "Hi," cut off halfway through by her arms around you, squeezing the life out of you. As if it had been months since you'd last seen her as opposed to mere days.

You didn't complain, though, instead returning the hug and squeezing back just as hard. She was warm in your arms. So tiny, so fragile, yes strong beyond belief.

"Well, hello there," you said, breaking into a grin, surprised but welcoming of the strange greeting.

Rowena wasn't a hugger. Or rather, she wasn't much of an initiator. She enjoyed a good cuddle, but she had to be prompted into it. Making the first step was beneath her, though, a few rare times, she allowed herself to snuggle in unprompted.

She'd gone to help Sam and Dean on a case a few days ago, and you were already missing her. The home was empty without her. The bed you shared cold, lifeless. Your body lacking hers to warm up with, to feel safe, at home.

You'd texted and video chatted countless times, but it wasn't the same. Nothing beat having her in your arms, safe and sound.

A part of you regretted not going with her. She'd made it more than clear that you were welcome to accompany her, just like all those times before. Against your heart's wishes, you'd opted not to. It was a fairly simple case, after all. An out of control witch. Nothing the three of them couldn't handle on their own.

You'd regretted that decision the moment the door had closed behind her on her way out.

Codependence wasn't healthy; you were more than aware of that. But still.

But still.

Now that you had her with you, you never wanted to let her go again.

To your utmost surprise, Rowena seemed to share the sentiment.

"Are you okay, baby?" you asked, baffled by the way she clung to you. So tight, a koala clinging to a tree branch. "Did something happen?"

She nuzzled your chest like an overly affectionate cat. "Everything is fine." Her voice was soft, lovely. Cotton candy and silk mixed into one. You wanted to melt in it.

You didn't buy it, but you let it go. Who were you to look gift hugs in the mouth?

"I missed you," you whispered, kissing her hair.

"I missed you, too, darling." She tightened her grip, Pressing her face against your chest.

You enjoyed the moment too much to chastise her for ruining your shirt. Makeup could be washed off. It wasn't every day that your girl initiated affection — to this degree, no less. A dirty shirt was a more than fair price to pay.

As the two of you settled in the living room to talk about her travels, Rowena remained by your side. Literally glued to you, as if you were bound at the hip. As she talked of tracking down the witch and killing her, her head was on your shoulder, one hand firmly in yours, fingers twined in an almost unbreakable knot.

When she got up to make tea, she dragged you with her to the kitchen, one hand on the kettle and the other holding yours. Gripping it with impossible strength so that you couldn't break away.

Your questions if something bad had happened had gone unanswered.

Maybe she'd remembered Lucifer again. Maybe something had triggered her — again, like many times before — along the way, and she didn't want to be alone like she was that day in May of 2017 when he showed up and messed her up for life. When, following a meaningless argument, you'd left to blow off some steam, and had returned to a bloodbath and a charred corpse in the middle of the hotel room.

Maybe she wanted to make sure that you were here. That, this time around, you wouldn't leave. That she wasn't alone.

You didn't have the heart to take it away from her.

So you remained at her side. You allowed her to drag you around the house, to cling to you as she sat beside you. Even when she squeezed too tight and it was hard to breathe, you didn't say a word.

Let her have her fantasy. Let her have her feeling of safety. You'd promised her, after she'd healed, that you would never leave her again, and you intended to make good on it.

Besides, it felt nice to have her so close. It felt nice to snuggle up without having to coax her into it. To, for once in your life, not have to be the instigator. Rowena was affectionate; she loved cuddles and snuggles. She loved kisses and nuzzles and sweet promises of love. Not once did you doubt that she loved you the same way you loved her. She was just different. More closed off, due to her background.

But, gods, you enjoyed this open side of her immensely. However short it may be, you decided to make the most of it.

"I love you, Y/N."

She'd said it multiple times over the last few hours, and you'd returned each one. It was music to your ears, a lullaby you could fall asleep to every night.

Whatever had happened must have shaken her. But she was safe now. That was all that mattered. She would never be unsafe again, not while she was with you. Not while you could wrap her in your embrace and nuzzle her hair and tell her you loved her over and over again, for as long as she was willing to listen. For as long as she was willing to say it back.

To your great surprise, Rowena insisted on making dinner. Your favorite, she said. She would make it exactly as you liked it.

Blinking twice, three times, four, to make sure you hadn't been transported to an alternate reality without noticing, you asked, "Since when do you cook?"

"Can't I treat my girlfriend to a lovely homemade meal every once in a while?" she said, looking through cupboards for the kitchenware. Sorting the items she needed on the island, neatly and in order as she did when she worked on potions.

It was more like once in every few years, but you decided not to comment. Who were you to say no to a homemade meal? It was surely better, much more intimate, than being treated to restaurant dinners (which you always welcomed. Rowena had impeccable taste, and she never failed to impress).

"Okay," you said, still baffled by her behavior. Was she truly shaken up by something, or was something else going on?

Your heart jumped, nervous tingles slipping down the back of your neck like an army of angry ants. Had you forgotten an important date? An anniversary of some sort?

You cleared your throat. Mentally prepared yourself for the ire she would unleash on you for forgetting whatever it was that had taken place on this day. In your defense, you'd never been the best with days. Hopefully, Rowena would take that into consideration before she obliterated you. "Are-are we celebrating something? Did I forget something again?"

Rowena laughed, a sweet, delicious melody. Harmless. "I'm just making you dinner, Y/N." You breathed out in relief, muscles springing free of tension that had strung them stiff. "You're acting as if I never do anything nice for you."

You shrugged, because she didn't. Not like this. She didn't cuddle so much. She didn't make the first move. She didn't tell you she loved you so frequently, so earnestly. She didn't make you dinner from scratch and act like it was the most normal thing in the world.

None of this was normal.

It both scared and intrigued you.

Rowena pouted and, walking over, pressed her forehead to your chest like an injured, attention-starved kitten.

Your heart just about exploded with guilt, with regret that ate at you like acid. "I didn't mean it like that," you said, rubbing her back in the gentlest of circles. What had gotten into her today?

She looked up at you. Narrowed her eyes as if in thought. "I may forgive you if you kiss me."

Seriously? Since when did she ask for a kiss instead of taking it? Since when did she bury her face into your shirt and pout until she got what she wanted?

That was usually your tactic.

"You drive a hard bargain," you teased, cupping her cheeks into your palms with utmost tenderness and laying a kiss, soft as silk, to her forehead. Then one to the tip of her nose, and another, the cherry on top, on her lips.

"Good girl," Rowena said, and, with a flash of a smile, went back to work on dinner. "You're forgiven. For now." She winked.

"You're mean," you told her.

"Me?" she clasped a hand over her heart dramatically. "Never."

Right. She was Miss Goody Two-Shoes. As if. You chuckled.

"Why would I be mean when I love you?"

So she kept saying. You never tired of hearing it, no matter how strange it was. How unlike her.

"To assert dominance?" you joked.

She raised an eyebrow. You blew her a raspberry.

"Mature, darling."

You gave a shrug. "That's just me saying I love you back."

Rowena grinned, and walked over for another kiss. As if she needed the assurance. As if she needed to feel you, to touch you, to make sure you meant it. As if, otherwise, it would all be a lie. You gave in to it because why wouldn't you? Strange as it was, it cost you nothing. When she got over whatever it was she was going through, she would go back to normal. For now, you decided to enjoy this needy, clingy side of her.

The meal turned out incredible. Rowena, by her own choice, wasn't a cook, but when she put her mind to it, she could whip out incredible food. As magical as the potions she always made. Just as crafty, just as professional.

She marveled in your praise as you ate, and pulled you into an embrace as you finished, beaming like the sun on a summer afternoon. Beautiful and bright, without a cloud in sight.

"I really loved it," you said, kissing her cheek to emphasize it. "You should cook more often."

"I shall cook for you every day," Rowena vowed.

You highly doubted that, but you went along with it. "Think you could make filet mignon tomorrow?"

She looked you in the eyes, serious as a storm. "The best you've ever had."

"Deal."

She caressed your scalp. "Why don't you sit here and relax while I clean up?"

You looked at her as if she'd suddenly grown a second head. Since when did she volunteer to clean up? Since when did she look so gleeful at the mere thought of it? Last time she was home, she rolled her eyes all the way through, complaining that there wasn't a spell to speed up the process and vowing to create her own. Tonight was supposed to be your turn to do it. "For real?"

"Aye. Let the food settle, won't you?" She patted your stomach affectionately and started gathering the dirty dishes.

You blinked, baffled. Sure this had to be some sort of a joke, though she appeared one hundred percent serious.

"Okay…" you said, unsure, though you tried not to dwell on it. You were no fan of chores, either.

As she cleared out the table and wiped it, thoroughly, with a cloth, she kissed your forehead, then committed to doing the dishes. Every now and again, she would throw a glance at you, making sure you were still where she'd left you. Making sure you hadn't left.

You were growing to enjoy this side of her. It was odd and different and it would surely not last for more than a few days, at most, but it was sweet. She was sweet; sugary, to a level most people would find disgusting, but you reveled in. You just hoped she eventually told you what was going on. A change like this, you deserved to know the reason for.

A sudden vibrating sound startled you. Your phone, abandoned on the coffee table, was buzzing, the screen flashing as bright as a lamp. Grabbing it, you were surprised to see it was Sam who was calling. You sighed, frustrated. What had happened now? Did the Winchesters need Rowena — again? If so, why didn't they call her? You doubted they wanted your help. Who went to the student when they could go straight to the teacher?

"Hello," you said, uncertain.

"Hey, Y/N." Sam was polite. Friendly as always. You were no fan of hunters, but you appreciated it. Out of them all, he seemed like the most trustworthy. "Has Rowena gotten home?"

"Yup. Hours ago."

Rowena raised an eyebrow. You shot her a smile, prompting her to keep on washing plates.

Sam breathed out loudly. Was that relief you were detecting? "She okay?"

Uh oh. "Is there a reason she shouldn't be?"

"I—"

"We need you to check her pockets," Dean cut in. No nonsense, straight to the point as always.

"Why?" you asked.

"Has she been acting weird?"

Weird would be an understatement. Heart jumping with concern, you said, "Well, I mean, she…" She's been cuddly as an attention-hungry kitten. You cleared your throat. "She's been a bit… odd."

It wasn't something bad, was it?

Cold chills slid down the back of your neck, thin and prickly as needles.

Was it?!

"Check her pockets," Dean told you. "She might be cursed. Jack was acting weird all day, and we just found a hex bag in his pocket."

Cursed? Rowena could be cursed?

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit!

It was obvious, now that you thought about it. Of course she was cursed. Why else would she glue herself to you as if you were conjoined twins? Why else would she volunteer to make dinner for no special occasion — your favorite, at that — and insist that she do the dishes? Why else would she be so fucking squishy?

"On it. Thanks for letting me know."

As soon as you hung up, you were on your feet, heart racing, concern rising. Please, don't be a bad one, you prayed to any deity willing to listen. Please, please, please. The witch they'd faced was powerful, Rowena had told you. Dangerous. Sadistic. A radical change of behavior in her victims was certainly just the beginning.

You had no intention to see how it ended. Enough time had passed already. Hopefully, you'd managed to catch on to it in time, before something serious — something cruel, deadly — took effect.

"A friend?" Rowena inquired, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Sam and Dean."

"Ah. Checking up on me, are they?"

She had no idea.

As you got close, she did what she'd been doing all day and threw her arms around you. You sank into the embrace, let her curl around you like a piece of a puzzle perfectly nesting into place. Your hands slid down to her hips, felt for the pockets of her dress pants. Fingers slithered in as soon as they found them.

Your right fingertip brushed against a rough fabric, and relief instantly flooded you, a welcome, much needed high. Grabbing the small pouch, you threw it down. Swiftly, forcefully, as if it were poison deadly to the touch.

"What are you—" Rowena's eyes trailed yours, widening at the sight of the hex bag. Tiny. The color of rust. Almost harmless, lying all alone, abandoned, on the floor.

You spat, "Ignis." Fire.

The bag instantly burst into flames. Bright and orange, they devoured it, ate it from the inside out like acid, until it was nothing but a pile of ash. Fragile. Easily scattered. Powerless.

Rowena stared at it. She did nothing, said nothing, just stared at the grayish-black remains of the hex bag. Her arms were limp at her sides. Lips tight in an unreadable line.

"Rowena?" you said, concerned. "You okay?"

No reaction. No acknowledgement.

Nothing.

"Baby?"

She swallowed.

You reached for her hand, only to be pushed away. The rejection stung like a slap to the face.

Was this the aftermath of the curse? Was she shaken up about being snapped out of it so suddenly?

"Rowena, sweetie—"

"I was cursed." Her voice was cold. Distant.

"Yup. Sam and Dean said Jack was cursed, and they wanted me to check your pockets, to make sure."

Good thing they did, otherwise… Something would have happened. Something bad. You didn't know what, but you could guarantee it was nothing good. Evil witches didn't hex people who were after them mildly. Rowena, a former evil witch herself, would know that better than anyone.

"But you're okay now," you said. "Right?"

She gave a nod.

At least there was that.

A moment passed in silence, then Rowena uttered, "You didn't notice."

"What?"

"I wasn't myself, and you didn't notice."

Was that offense in her tone?

"It's not like that," you said, guilt lacing your words. "I just figured you were going through some stuff."

She stared at you, incredulous. "Like being cursed?"

She was offended. She was mad.

Shit. You swallowed. "Well…"

Thinking of it now, it was obvious. She hadn't been herself. Had been acting too different, too strange. Too unlike the woman you'd gotten to know in the past six years.

Rowena gasped. Dramatic. Exaggerated. Over the top. Her usual style. You sighed, mentally preparing yourself for the blow up. Here we go.

"How could you not notice? It was right in your bloody face!" she exclaimed in that tone that both intimidated and intrigued you, the one veteran theater actresses would envy. "Do I look like a bloody attention whore?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

She scowled as if you'd insulted her. Which, to be fair, you probably had. Raising her forefinger threateningly (not that you were truly afraid.She could be intimidating, but you never feared her), in your face, she snapped, "Don't be a smartarse!"

You shrugged, nonchalant. She was dramatic. You were a smartass. Some things were just facts.

"You liked it, didn't you?"

"What?"

"You liked me slobbering all over you like a diseased cat and waiting on you hand and foot." She crossed her arms. Her expression softened, mellowed into something you couldn't quite put your finger on. Something… sad.

Was that what she thought? That you didn't notice her being cursed because you enjoyed taking advantage of her? That you jumped at the chance?

It was your turn to be offended. "I can't believe you just said that."

"What am I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to know me better than that."

"You are supposed to know me, as well, and look how that turned out."

Seriously? She was going there? You supposed you shouldn't be surprised; when Rowena kicked, she aimed for the lowest area. Not just because of her height.

"I thought something triggered you while you were working the case!" you exclaimed. "I didn't wanna say anything because I figured you just wanted to cuddle for a day or two, and you'd be back to normal. It's happened in the past!"

You didn't want to bring it up, but if she was going to be a bitch, you might as well make her face the truth. You felt bad for not noticing. Felt guilty. But there have been times, in the past, when she remembered Lucifer, and all she needed was some love, some sense of safety for a little while until the fear subsided. The two of you never talked about it; you'd had a consensus, a wordless agreement to let it happen.

So you let it happen.

It was harmless, usually. Just some cuddles and kisses. How were you to know a curse would make her exhibit the same symptoms?

Rowena had the decency to look ashamed. Eyes falling to her feet, avoiding yours for as much as they could, she said, "I know I'm not the most affectionate person."

"Are you kidding? You're the cuddliest witch I know!" She leveled you with a stare that threatened murder. You grinned. She rolled her eyes. "I'm serious. I admit, it was nice to see you take more of an initiative, but I don't think there's anything… lacking with the way you usually are. I wouldn't have you any other way."

She cracked a small smile. "Sap."

"You made me do it!" you accused jokingly.

She sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"

"How about a hug?" She gave you a look, one of those she reserved for when you did something incredibly stupid and she had no words to encompass it. "Please?"

"Maybe a small one," she relented after a moment of thought.

Giggling, you threw your arms around her and squeezed as hard as you could.

"Y/N!" Rowena protested.

"I can't help it!" you said, ecstatic. "You're just so squishy!"

"And you're mean!" she whined.

You could live with that.

She pouted for a few seconds before returning the hug and nestling comfortably against you, exactly where she belonged. Safe and sound and, most important of all, content. Happy, though she would never say it out loud.

"Say, Rowena..." you said, uncertain how to best approach the issue. "About that filet mignon you promised…"

"Don't even think about it."

You figured as much.

But it was okay. Because she was okay. She was unharmed. Herself. Yours, exactly as she was, with all her sides, good and bad.

Overly affectionate or not, she would always be your girl. There wasn't a single thing she could do to make you love her less. Laughter, tears, joy, grief, happiness, fear; you'd been through it all, and hadn't regretted a thing. Would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

But… damn, you were really looking forward to that filet mignon.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @evil-regal-vampiress @hellbentredhead @angel-e-v-a @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock @fangirlxwritesx67 @theeasterbilby @midnight-lestrange @osterhagen @impala-1979 @gracib16 @feelsandotps

[fandom-necromancer]

A little distraction Part 3

This was prompted by @rufina72 as well as two anons and at least one AO3 user. I have to admit I lost track on AO3 because apparently people really enjoy this story line XD Hope you do to!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900, Hannor/Hancon Part 1 link not available   [Part2]   [Part4]   [Part5]   [Read complete on AO3]

‘S-s-so Connor is your brooother?’ They were driving through Detroit’s streets covered by snow slush and salt. It would be a pain to get the hardened dirt from the road off his car later, Richard thought as quiet Christmas music accompanied their drive. ‘Yes. Older by roughly five years’, he answered. ‘We’re very close.’ ‘And he w-w-will be the only one there?’ Again, Richard nodded. ‘Yeah, him and his boyfriend. Guess I have to update that to husband soon, they plan to marry as soon as legislation has caught up with recognising androids as persons in every aspect.’ ‘No other f-f-family?’ Richard frowned, face falling instinctively, before he forced himself to cheer up.

‘Nah. Our father died in a car accident. I was three years old; I don’t remember much of him but photos. Connor knew him more and always said he was a nice guy. Our mother was always at work, too absorbed in her studies. It changed a bit when father died, but still she wasn’t home much. Connor basically was the one raising me, and he blames mom for not being there for me.’ ‘And y-y-you?’ ‘Nah’, he laughed. ‘It was normal for me; I didn’t know anything else. But we both agree that me and him, we are family and she doesn’t belong in that definition. And that we’ll do it better should we ever get kids.’ Gavin nodded slowly. ‘How’s he?’ ‘Caring?’, Richard began, having to think of the right words to express what he felt when thinking of his brother. ‘Overly protective. Overly friendly. It can be annoying at times. But he is honest too and understands boundaries. He never said anything when I had my silent phases, just came to my room and did whatever he did close to me keeping me company. He seems to always know what you need right now and I think that’s his most treasurable attribute.’ ‘Hooope he knows that with meee too, not just you. Wh-wh-what I told you, I won’t tell anyooone else.’

Nines risked a look to the side to Gavin, who had ducked his head in between his shoulders and fidgeted with a button on his shirt. ‘Hey.’ He stopped at a red light and was about to touch the android comfortingly, refraining from it last second as he remembered his reaction to that. ‘Hey, if it gets too much at any point, tell me. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.’ Gavin quickly looked out of the window and nodded, obviously embarrassed.

-

They arrived at a small house draped in tasteful Christmas decoration. Not too much and in exactly the right colours to make it feel cosy, warm and welcoming. Gavin stepped out of the car watching the lights and trying not to think of how he had lifted up the kids so they could help putting them up in their old home. They were fond memories made all the more sour by his loss. He knew his LED was likely red again, alerting the strange human that had picked him up of his  composure slipping, but if Richard noticed, he didn’t say anything, just walking ahead and smiling back at him as an invitation to follow him. Gavin swallowed and hastily walked through the snow to the freed path leading to the door. Nines was already standing there, hand hovering over the doorbell.

‘Richard!’ The door was almost ripped open by someone who looked exactly like the other human, maybe an inch smaller and a lot more expressive. ‘You came!’ ‘I promised, didn’t I?’ Connor hugged the other human and grinned from one ear to the other. ‘Yes of course, but still!’ Only then did he turn to Gavin, who was awkwardly standing half behind Richard and watched them. It was hard to blink away the warning popping up over and over again. Connor moving towards Richard. Threat. Warning. Richard returning his hug, the arm passing through Gavin’s personal space at that. Warning. Threat. Connor turning around. Threat. Run. Gavin didn’t know since when he was stuck in this analysis mode, but he was sick of flinching and glitching at any movement. ‘This must be your plus one?’, he asked Richard with a wink and held out a hand towards Gavin. ‘Hello, I’m Connor.’ Gavin couldn’t suppress taking a step back. ‘I-I-I’m Gaaavin’, he said, cursing his voice box for glitching now out of all times. Connor let his hand fall, but smiled at him, completely ignoring his stutter and hangers. ‘Hello Gavin, nice to meet you! Merry Christmas! Come in, you two! Hank’s getting out the food already!’

They followed Connor in and got rid of their shoes, before entering the living room. Connor instructed them to sit down and hurried into the kitchen to help Hank. When the larger android came to greet them, Gavin dared to relax a bit. He was deviant too, sending a friendly greeting ping to him. He looked gentle, trusting and didn’t have any marks on him. Hank put down plates for Connor and Richard, while Connor came back with two mugs of warmed Thirium for the androids as well as blue tinged cookies. ‘Can you eat?’, Hank asked him then. ‘You are an older model, right?’ Gavin nodded. ‘I am. B-b-but I caaan eat. I g-g-got the upgrade when Kathy- I got the upgrade.’ Hank lifted a brow at the errors and swallowed sentence, but otherwise didn’t mention it. ‘Then I hope they taste, Connor made them. He has no talent.’ ‘Excuse me?’, the human answered, elbowing Hank. Gavin expected damage, but it was a friendly gesture. ‘I can cook great.’ ‘Yeah’, Hank countered. ‘If you count heating up frozen pizza.’ ‘Hey, that’s all I can do, too, so I’ll side with Connor here’, Richard laughed. ‘What’s your verdict, Gavin?’

He looked into the other’s faces, still overwhelmed by it all. Instead of answering, he took one of the cookies and nibbled on the edge. He hadn’t really eaten much since he had gotten the upgrade and his tank didn’t allow for more than one meal anyways. It tasted… sweet. The texture was interestingly grainy and gave in to force easily. Not able to stand being stared at any longer, he just shrugged and said: ‘It tastes good?’ ‘See!’, Connor grinned. ‘Gavin likes it. I can’t be that bad then!’ ‘Or your recipe was good.’ ‘Or he did something wrong and accidentally saved otherwise horrible cookies.’ Connor crossed his arms. ‘Oh, shut up, Nines, try baking something you can’t even try because it’s literal poison for you!’ Richard laughed, and it eased the mood into simpler waters.

They continued talking for a while exchanging about what they had been up to lately. Gavin listened, but was content not to be involved at all, eating the cookies Connor had prepared. He actually liked them a lot and it was quite relaxing to just munch away on them. ‘And? How did you two get to know each other?’ He froze, sharing a look with Richard. ‘Errr…’ ‘Do you know that red light at the corner of that mattress store?’ Connor frowned, then nodded. ‘Yeah, you have to wait ages until you can drive on.’ ‘Somehow timing was perfect, and we saw each other every day when my shift ended.’ He looked over to Gavin and he nodded, thanking him inwardly to not tell them his whole life story. ‘Today I decided to talk to him.’ Connor looked over to Gavin disbelievingly. ‘My brother spoke to you first?’ Gavin huffed. ‘Y-Yes, he did. I-I-I lost my family because of the revolution. Had nowhere to go. He invited me to come with him.’ ‘So you really aren’t more than strangers’, Hank asked. ‘Kind of?’, Gavin shrugged. ‘But Richard seeeems like a nice g-g-guy and I don’t have m-m-much to lose.’ Connor swallowed. ‘I’m sorry to hear that’, he said. ‘You are welcome here any day if you need a place to stay.’ The android ducked his head, blushing. ‘Richard offered that already and I agreed to try it out.’ That shifted their attention towards the man completely.

‘Nines, are you ill? Initiating conversation, bringing someone for dinner and inviting them into your home?’ ‘Fuck off, Connor, seriously. Call it a Christmas miracle.’ Connor shook his head. ‘Would be one hell of one.’ Richard threw him a look and laughed. ‘Connor, just because it’s rare it doesn’t mean it never happens.’ ‘It was awkwaaard as hell too’, Gavin added carefully. ‘Have to admit I thought he was some sort of weirdo first.’ Connor smiled as Nines rested his hand on his arm. ‘Okay, that sounds more like my brother.’

‘Really? A weirdo?’, Richard asked Gavin. ‘I thought aaaaafter our last talk you appreciated h-h-honesty.’ ‘Yeah, okay, but you don’t just tell someone they are a weirdo.’ ‘It’s the truth.’ Richard sighed. ‘I don’t think you are oooone now th-th-th-though’, he added. ‘Thanks, at least there’s that then…’ Richard looked up at Connor. ‘What?’

The other human was grinning at them both and tried to hide it badly. ‘I’m happy, Nines. Really. I’m glad you both are here today. Come on, let’s watch a movie and then presents!’

-

The longer they spent at Connor’s house, the more at ease Gavin felt. No one asked him about his past or why he was malfunctioning all over. It surely was a question that burned in their minds, he could feel it, but they consciously didn’t question him. He was just being accepted as a part of their Christmas celebration as if he hadn’t just been picked up from some scrapyard and put into nice clothing. It felt like he… Like he had been here last year and the year before. Almost like… like he belonged. Like a family. He just had to reach out a hand and take the chance Richard had offered him and all of this would turn from pretend to reality. It was weird thinking about it, especially when every connection to the word family brought up memories of loss and grief about old happiness.

But was it wrong to want this again? To wish for another chance at building new memories? He looked at Richard from the corner of his eyes. The man was completely fixed on the TV in front of them, body relaxed and close to him but far away enough not to impose or cause stress. Gavin swallowed and looked over to Connor and Hank on the other couch under a blanket lying close, Hank holding the human and caressing his hair. He could have this again. This casual comfort, these caring touches, this feeling of safety and belonging. The home he had lost and tried to build for himself in that scrapyard could be his again, if he just allowed to let it happen.

He swallowed and pressed his eyes close to block out the warnings of threat, warning, run, danger. Then he scooted over slowly until he hit Richards warm ribcage. He felt the other shift around his frozen body, then an arm was draped around his shoulders carefully. ‘This too much?’, Nines whispered near inaudibly over the movie running and Gavin shook his head. No, he wanted this, he just had to get over his own barriers. A few minutes later, he tried opening his eyes again and was surprised his systems weren’t bombarding him with errors. Instead, his status box read safe and Richard’s body was marked as friend/ally. Gavin sighed deeply, dropping into the carefree touch completely.

When Richard dared to look down the next time, the android in his arm was smiling just the slightest and his LED was circling somewhere between blue and yellow – the calmest he had seen Gavin so far. By the end of the movie, Gavin wasn’t moving anymore, the LED pulsing slowly. Nines looked over at Hank questioningly and the android nodded. ‘He’s in stasis now.’ ‘Wow’ Richard said with raised brows, looking down on the sleeping android. Connor sat up and threw them their blanket. ‘You can stay the night if you want. Guess I have to call you Tens now’, he joked. Nines huffed and answered deadpan: ‘Do that and I’ll stop talking to you to go back to Nines.’

[>next part]

[dhwty-writes]

A Health Hazard

This took a lot longer to write than it had any right to. The first 1.5k words were written in under 2 hours, the rest in thrice that time. I'm done with today and this prompt. Written for day 3: Reading by the fire/cuddling by the fire of @witcher-and-his-bard‘s winter prompts Have fun!

Summary: Geralt of Rivia is bored. This hasn't happened in forever. Literally. He learns to understand Jaskier's whining a lot better. 

Warnings: none, besides the fact that this is unedited

Read on AO3

All things considered, it had taken a surprisingly short time for the impossible to happen. Apparently, all that it took was three weeks. Three weeks cooped up in Jaskier's generously-sized lodgings in Oxenfurt with nothing to do and lo and behold, Geralt of Rivia was bored. Bored! Could you imagine that?

It hadn't been so bad in the beginning. After five days he finally hadn't felt the need to rise with the sun and had let Jaskier kiss him goodbye, running late for a lecture, while he turned over and slept in. He couldn't remember when he had last done that. Truth be told, he couldn't remember if he'd ever done that.

Certainly not since he'd gotten to Kaer Morhen; there was no slacking in the witchers' keep. He briefly wondered if passing out after a fight and waking up days later could count as sleeping in. Probably not.

No, sleeping in was something for the safe and comfortable, and for the first time since he could think Geralt could count himself among them. All thanks to Jaskier, of course, who did his best to spoil his lover rotten. All on the cost of the Oxenfurt Academy, naturally.

The Academy spared no cost or effort to ensure the comfort of their lecturers—and Jaskier wasn't just any lecturer, he was probably the most popular bard on the continent. Geralt had first realised that Jaskier was rich when he had seen his personal study, stocked with books right up to the ceiling. Most of them were beautiful leather-bound tomes, written by hand with detailed pictures. He had felt a bit faint when discovering that some of them were in the second row.

No matter what Jaskier said about gifts from colleagues and magical innovations called a printing spell, books were immeasurable luxuries. And the bard owned close to a hundred of them. Personally.

Still, Geralt had been hesitant, at first, to make use of the private bath that came with the four-room apartment, or to call upon a servant to fetch him things. That was until Jaskier had told him outright how much they paid him for a single lecture, let alone several of them each day for months. If they were willing to pour that much money down the drain, he couldn't really feel bad about it.

So, the following days and weeks Geralt allowed Jaskier to teach him how to enjoy himself. He learned how to sleep in, indulged in almost daily baths, spent his days reading novels and poems out of Jaskier's personal collection. He didn't protest when the bard ordered too much food. Didn't comment on the overabundance of sweets—he even admitted he liked it. And when Jaskier asked for too exotic spices he only raised his eyebrows.

Once he had even ventured into the extensive Academy library—Geralt had never seen so many books in one place in his entire life—to find a collection of chivalrous legends Jaskier had told him about. He had been welcomed by an overly polite librarian, who had gone ahead to recommend him a dozen other books with the same topic, complete with annotations noting upon all the different possible interpretations. And if that hadn't been enough, he had been offered to take them with him. All of them. At once. As long as he liked. With no credentials but the name "Pankratz". He couldn't fathom how the library hadn't been robbed empty yet. When he had told Jaskier so, he had only laughed and kissed him gently, calling him a silly witcher.

It all had culminated when later that day, after Jaskier had ordered their dinner to be brought up to their rooms, it had been Geralt to stop the servant by the arm and ask for a bottle of wine.

"Right away, sir," the servant had answered. "Do you have any preferences?"

"Umm-" After a quick glance back to Jaskier, who had smiled encouragingly, he had added: "Est Est?"

He had half expected to be reprimanded, but the servant had only looked at him as if that had been obvious. "The year, sir. Do you have any preferences for the year?"

"I hear 1260 was especially good," Jaskier had piped up and that had been the end of that. They had had a very nice evening and an even nicer night, albeit neither of them had gotten a lot of sleep.

The problem was that since then over a week had passed. Geralt had read through all the books he had borrowed and leafed through a number of volumes of Jaskier's personal collection. He wasn't feeling like reading anymore. He had visited several taverns to play Gwent, but that too was interesting only for so long.

He had taken Jaskier up on his offer and accompanied him to a few lectures, but that had grown boring, too. Of course, he could talk about his adventure and the content of the poems, but that wasn't what Jaskier and his students were talking about. Instead, they lead very heated discussions about rhymes and metaphors and what Jaskier called a meter ("It's like a rhythm, Geralt."). But in the end, he didn't care if the rhyme was a pair or not, or if the rhythm was an asbestos or a dromedary or something.

He flopped down on the couch with an uncharacteristically dramatic sigh. Jaskier had returned from his last lecture an hour ago and was now holed up in his study doing... something. As if him being away all day wasn't bad enough, he had to continue working afterwards!

Geralt sat up with a start. Shit, was that how Jaskier felt all year round on the Path? It was a horrifying thought; no wonder the bard was so whiny all the time. Well, Geralt was different. He certainly wouldn't stoop so low. No, he definitely wouldn't whine.

 ~*~

 "Jaskier," Geralt whined from his place on the extra armchair they had acquired the previous day. "Are you done yet?"

The poet mouthed some words along while he frantically scribbled them down on yet another snippet of parchment. "Almost, darling, give me a minute," he muttered absentmindedly just like he had half an hour ago.

Geralt threw his head back and groaned loudly. He was going mad; he was sure of it. It was not normal for people to go such a long time without someone charging at them with swords or claws or dirty underwear. It could not be healthy. "D'you think I should talk to Shani?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jaskier mumbled under his breath, flipping through the hundreds of pages of notes he was keeping.

"Hmm." So Jaskier agreed that boredom was a serious health hazard. He drummed his fingers on the armrest. Maybe he should go do it right away?

He got to his feet and was almost at the door when he halted. No, it was late already, sundown a few hours past. He walked back to the armchair. But maybe-

"Geralt," Jaskier said with a heavy sight and put down his pen. "Love. You're pacing." 

"Really?" The witcher grit out. "Wouldn't have noticed."

"Can you just-" He rubbed at his temples. He looked incredibly tired. "I'm sorry, five more minutes, alright? Then we can do whatever you want, what d'you think of that."

"Hm." Geralt thought that was bullshit and that Jaskier should take a break.

But the poet was too engrossed in his own mind to even hear it.

'Alright then,' he thought and sat back down, arms crossed. 'Five more minutes.' He could manage five minutes of meditation. Easily.

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, waiting for the calm to settle over him. What followed were probably the longest five fucking minutes of Geralt's life.

No sooner were they over that his eyes snapped open and he rushed over to his bard, holding him close from behind and nuzzling against his neck.

Jaskier chuckled softly. "Hello there. Five minutes over already?"

"Yes," Geralt said resolutely. "What're you writing anyways?" he asked, trying to peer over his bard's shoulder.

Still scribbling, Jaskier answered: "A novel, dear."

"A novel?" he replied and pulled back a little. "Since when?" Jaskier never wrote novels. Songs and poems, yes, and on one memorable occasion a play, too, but they had both agreed that it was horrid and that he should stick to shorter stuff.

He shrugged and slammed the piece of paper onto one of the piles. Apparently, there was an order to the chaos. "The day before yesterday, I think? Didn't really pay attention."

Geralt snorted. That went without saying. "Please tell me you didn't write all that in-"

Jaskier gasped softly and pulled up another sheet of paper. "Shh, give me a minute, love, else I'll forget this sentence. Oh fuck, this is so good-"

He bared his teeth. "You said-"

"Please, Geralt," Jaskier begged. 'Fuck.' The cursed bardlet knew damn well that he couldn't resist him; not with the pure desperation in his voice.

So, Geralt contented himself with grumbling displeased and pressing his nose against Jaskier's neck, while he waited for the scratching of the quill on paper to finally subside.

Thankfully, it didn't take too long for Jaskier to slam the quill down and forcefully push the paper away. "Done," he declared, exhaustion plain in his voice. "I'm done for today."

He raised his eyebrows. "You sure?"

"Y-yeah. I'm sure." The tiny pause was enough for Geralt to know that, no, Jaskier wasn't done in the slightest. If not for him the poet would probably stay up until the early hours of morning, crafting one masterful line after the other. Until he'd inevitably collapse from the exhaustion, smudging the ink of his uppermost sheet of paper all over his face.

He couldn't fathom how much self-control it cost Jaskier to turn around and ask: "So, what is bothering you so terribly, my beloved witcher?"

Geralt glared at him defiantly. It took him all of three seconds to cave. "I'm bored," he complained and frowned.

The effect was instantaneous and his expression grew soft. "Oh, my dear, I'm terribly sorry."

There was something about Jaskier's voice, something about his touch, about the way he brought Geralt close for a gentle kiss. Something that made him go from wanting to believe his words so badly to actually believing them.

The smile on his bard's face was nothing short of adorable when he asked: "Anything I can do about it?"

"Hm." Well, he could think of quite a few things to bide their time.

Before he could voice any of them, though, Jaskier continued: "Yeah, that's what I thought." He stood up and took his hand. "Come on, Geralt, I'm dead on my feet. Let's get somewhere more comfortable, then we can figure that out."

He gladly let himself be led. As long as it meant spending time with Jaskier, he was hardly about to object. The poet flitted around their apartment, collecting pillows and blankets, while he sent Geralt off to heat the kettle and get them some tea, all the while humming with excess energy.

Not fifteen minutes later Geralt found himself on the floor in front of the fireplace with a lapful of bard who was cursing quietly whenever he sipped his too-hot tea and inevitably burnt his tongue. Geralt couldn't help but smile as he cradled his Jaskier closer to his chest.

"What's your novel about?" he whispered into his ear.

"Oh, it's a romance!" he replied cheerfully.

Geralt pulled back, a horrible thought dawning on him. "Jaskier...," he growled. "Please tell me you're not writing a romance novel about us."

"Well," the poet drawled and Geralt groaned. So that was a yes. "I am not writing about Geralt of Rivia, the witcher, and Jaskier the bard."

"But?"

"But it might be that the two protagonists are a chivalrous monsterslayer and his loyal painter companion."

"Jaskier...," he pleaded even though he knew it was useless.

"What? In my defence, it was you who dragged in the knightly ballads!"

"Hm." That was a shit defence and they both knew it. Unwilling to start an argument, though, he just pulled Jaskier closer against his chest and leaned his forehead against his shoulder. "Tell me more."

And tell him more he did. Thank the gods it was so easy to get Jaskier rambling. He told him about the two protagonists, Eric and Dandelion, who had met shortly after the artist had abandoned the court; he had been living at, to find real inspiration out in the world. He was, apparently, entirely insufferable and a notorious womanizer-

"What?" Geralt interrupted him with a quiet chuckle. "Next you tell me he set out into the world to draw nude portraits of all his lovers."

"Oh no!" He felt Jaskier tense up before even the lament had left his mouth. "Oh, fuck, Geralt, that's brilliant, I-" His mouth snapped shut. His eyes flitted around nervously as he was obviously contemplating what the worse fate was: abandoning his lover or risking the loss of an idea.

Geralt quickly made the decision for him as he opened his arms. "Go on, bard," he said with a soft smile. "Write it down before it's gone again." He had lived with Jaskier long enough to become well acquainted with all of his sorrows.

The smile he got in return was almost worth it. "You're the best, I love you, I'm so sorry," he blabbered, scrambling to his feet. He pecked him on the mouth with a quick: "Be right back."

'No, you won't,' Geralt thought adoringly as he watched him bolt to his desk. "Just bring something to write with when you do!" he called after him and leaned back against the couch. He couldn't quite bring himself to wipe the lopsided grin off his face.

It was going to be a long winter. But he wouldn't have it any other way.