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worminstuff · 4 years ago

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The Balcony of the Treehouse Pt.6

sleepy bois x reader au

no warnings:)

also merry christmas:)

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Is that good or bad” Y/n asked Techno, her gaze soft.

“I'm not sure. He was really cool but..” Techno shrugged his shoulders.

It was currently the next day, and Y/n was accompanying Techno in the treehouse. They were currently discussing Techno’s new friend as of yesterday, Bo. Sam's older son.

Apparently Bo was sorta like Techno in some ways. They were both pretty shy at first but then found some common interest, and became rather comfortable pretty fast. Bo even let Techno ramble about Y/n for a bit and also said he would totally wanna meet her too.

“He's just not me.” Y/n grinned cockily and Techno pushed her shoulder.

“Right.” he rolled his eyes. “How was it with the other boys?”

“It was alright. Surprisingly very chill. I guess Tommy and Tubbo had really tired themselves out in the morning beforehand.” she shrugged. She was telling the truth, they slept for quite a while and were only awake for about an hour before everyone else got back.

“What about Will?” Techno wondered how she handled being around him while he was still..angsty.

Y/n shrugged again. She didn't really want to tell him about the kitchen and how they talked for the whole tiny Tommy and Tubbo napped. Or the cigarettes.

She couldn't stop thinking about how she was sitting on the counter and how he seemed so calm and sweet as if nothing happened.

She just had no idea, he was doing it on purpose. Will figures, if he can ignore his protective and jealous feelings, and maybe just try to get a connection with her. He may actually be able to get somewhere. Techno has the higher ground, he spends all his time with her and he has for years. Wilbur's only just started to in the past year and a half or so.

Wilbur doubts Techno actually has genuine feelings for Y/n. He has no way of genuinely knowing. It's just sort of a hunch. Or a hope maybe.

“He actually asked if i wanted to go to that bonfire thing with him..” her voice was almost a mumble. Just after she said she thought it would be fun, Wilbur explained the next evening they were going down to the beach to have a bonfire and hangout and chill. He said they do it often and it's always really fun.

Techno looked at her, slightly surprised. She wanted to hangout with Wilbur? No way.

“And you said..no..right?” his brows furrowed.

“Well..wait why would I say no?” she looked at him. Her brows furrowed also.

“Well obviously..I- he- what?” Techno shook his head.

“What do you mean what? Why would I have said no? It sounds fun.” she crossed her arms.

Techno stared at her for a moment. He slid a bit forward, so he was a bit closer. He leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his head on his hands. Y/n stared back questioningly.

“Odds.” he stated, staring right into her eyes.

“Techno!” Y/n pushed his leg a bit, and looked away, slightly mad. “What the hell?!”

Odds was something they created when they were young, similar to the game odds, it ends with saying a number between certain odds to help decide something.except that's usually for something like a dare. In this case, they used it in sort of flip of a coin situations, but only when one of them thought it was really really important. And the person that calls odds, gets to pick the odds, ex. 1 through 5 or 1 through 10 etc. they did this so they didn't argue about situations sorta like this.

“If you say the same number as me, 1 through 4, you stay. If not, you can go. odds on your side.” he had 0 emotion to his features.

“That's not fair!” she frowned.

“It is though. I called it.” he shrugged, almost smiling. Almost.

Y/n huffed. “Fine.”

Techno counted them down and on the count of three,

“Two.” they spoke at the same time.

“Fuck!” Y/n hit his knee as Techno grinned. Crisis averted. Or so he thought.

Techno grinned as she huffed and crossed her arms with a pout, shooting daggers with her eyes.

“Hey, it's not that bad! Now I can read you that book you got me.” Techno had a happy little grin on his face.

“Oh no, i'm definitely going.” Y/n said. His smile disappeared instantly.

“What? But- but odds?” his shoulders sank. Y/n alone with will in a car, and then alone with him and his friends, at a bonfire. There would be beer and shit everywhere! He just wanted her with him, safe away from Wilbur's scummy friends.

“I told Will I would! I can't go back on that. That's so rude.” she looked at him with puppy eyes.

Techno glared slightly, looked away, then looked back. She knew the eyes work, he acts all tough but he's too soft for it not to work.

“Okay. but i want you back here, when it's over. Not your house, not inside our house. Treehouse.” he pointed to the floor.

“And then normal sleepover?” Y/n smiled a little.

Techno's face softened as he saw her smile. He tried not to match her smile while shaking his head a little.

“Sure.”

^^^^^^^^^^

“Who's going this time?” Phil asked Wilbur.

It was around 5 or 5:30 and everyone was sat around the dining room table having dinner like they always do. Phil was currently discussing the bonfire with Wilbur, because he wanted to make a guesstimate in his head for how long Will would be gone using context clues. Because Will was never really home by the times he says he will.

“The usual group” Wilbur pointed his fork at his plate. “Oh! And Y/n”

Wilbur looked to her with a grin. Phil, for a lack of better words, looked as if one of his kids just had a pregnancy scare.

“Sorry, “ Phil shook his head slightly, “say that again?”

“Or don't.” Techno mumbled, Y/n jabbed him in the side with her elbow.

“I'm going along! I haven't done anything fun lately so Wilbur offered to let me tag along. It'll be fun.”Y/n shrugged.

Wilbur was beaming, Techno was silently livid, and Phil was looking in between the two very nervously.

The reason Techno was so genuinely angry was because Wilbur looked so smug when they sat down at the table. His grin was from ear to ear and he was excited to talk to Y/n about when she wanted to go and if she needed anything from her house, and the entire time Techno sat and felt his anger levels rise. His ears were hot, his shoulders tense and not a smile in sight.

He wanted to smack the smirk of his brother's face to be frank.

Techno knew what was going to happen. She was going to go with him, and have an amazing time. Great, right? Wrong. Clear to Techno, this was some evil master plan. Wilbur was going to give her more friends she would only go see with him. So when she wanted to spend time with these new people she had to also see him. And obviously at first she'll be all she so he gets to confront her and break her out of her shell. Techno knows how social Y/n can be, and she loves meeting new people! He hated to say it, but his brother was a genius.

Techno's fingers were starting to tremble.

What if she did like them? And wanted to see them more? What if they're cooler than him and what if they do drugs? Y/n wouldn't do drugs..would she?

His breath was slowly starting to catch up on him. He excused himself quickly and made his way off to the bathroom.

The crisp sound of the door creaking filled his ears as his back slid against it till he was on the floor.

His mind was running rampant.

How well does he really know Y/n? What could she possibly want with a bonfire when she has him and the treehouse? Is he not enough for her? Should he try to make more friends?

What was wrong with him?

He clutched his leg as he silently shook and took tiny shallow breaths.

Soon enough, just as he was starting to be able to allow more air into his lungs there was a soft knock on the door.

“Techno?..” Phil's voice was soft on the other side of the door.

Techno sniffled as he stood, he brushed himself off, and took a deep breath pushing all emotion from his features. He reached over and flushed the toilet a few feet in front of him, then he ran the sink for a moment before opening the door with one hand wiping on his leg.

“Hm?” he raised his brows.

Phil stared at him, analyzing his face fully. He looked fine, sort of. He looks normal to anyone who isn't his father per say. Phil could see behind his cold eyes he had been crying. No matter how much he pushed his emotions down, he couldn't push away the puffy eye bags or the glossy sheen, though they were actually very subtle.

A simple arm was raised and Techno immediately fell into him, deadweight in his arms. Phil held him tightly, silently. He pressed his cheek onto Techno's head, brushing down the unruly tangles in his hair.

There were no words spoken, they stood silently. Phil knew Techno wasn't going to tell him anything so he did not bear to try.

A little bit of time passed, and they broke apart to make their way back when Phil leaned over,

“Laugh with me like we said something funny. Trust me.”

Techno stared at him for a moment, and then giggled softly. Phil joined him and their laughs were terribly fake which caused more laughter and soon it became real laughter as they were walking into the dining room.

Y/n was staring at a babbling Tommy, while Wilbur was on his phone. Y/n immediately looked to Techno once he was in the room, a worried look on her eyes that disappeared as she saw his face. She was worried for nothing.

Phil patted Techno's back softly as they both picked up their plates to clean them, Tommy following suit with his father and older brother. Will and Y/n stood to do the same.

“Alright dad, think we're gonna head off.” Wilbur said, his grin authentic.

Phil nodded, “Right, don't forget to send me a ping when you get there and on your way home.” he pointed a winger between the pair, both nodded.

Techno stared aimlessly as he watched his girl walk out the door with his brother.

He hoped she was going to have fun.

As soon as both doors to the front seats of Will's car closed, Wilbur looked at her excitedly.

He turned the car on and pulled from the driveway, “Are we excited?”

“You can say that.” her smile was small.

“Don't be nervous, you're gonna love them and they're gonna love you. It's gonna be great.”

Y/n stared at him for a moment, he read her so easily. He looked so giddy. Was it because of her? She didn't want to get cocky but she'd never seen him this excited to see his friends before.

Wilbur's mind was running wild, he was alone with her for once, and then she got to hangout with his people. He even had a small surprise for her that he was even more excited for.

Y/n was progressively getting more and more nervous as they drove silently. She was starting to overthink. As she listened to her thoughts quietly, she failed to notice her leg start to bounce.

Will placed a gentle hand on her knee, “None of that. Nothing to be worried over. I wouldn't have asked you to come if i didn't know for a fact they'd like you.” his eyes broke away from the road momentarily. Y/n nodded. She trusted him.

Soon the smell of saltwater filled the car. Y/n took a quiet deep breath. Letting it fill her lungs. She slowly calmed herself, trying not to think of the hand on her knee, it would only fuel her nervous fire.

Y/n felt strange being here without Techno. It felt wrong. She rarely ever goes anywhere he isn't. He's practically glued to her 85% of the time.

Which was why when she was first meeting Wilbur's “crew”, she felt like a fish out of water.

Even with Wilbur's comforting hand holding hers, she felt stiff and awkward. They were all intimidating, the dudes were tall and confident and the girls were all gorgeous and sweet. Confident too.

She did notice, one of the boys seemed much more approachable. He stood at the back of the group while introductions were going around, she learned his name was Eret and he was one of Wilbur's newer friends but he was really cool.

Wilbur beamed at Y/n as he told her about his friends, his hand was still gentle and it made her smile.

Wilbur was happy she was getting a bit comfortable.

Once they felt everyone had been thoroughly introduced, they all started placing blankets on the sand around the large fire they'd made before Will and her had arrived.

Wilbur set down a blanket he brought and motioned for her to sit with him. When she sat down, he leaned over to speak into her ear, “See, nothing to worry about, yeah?”

He leaned away, showing her a grin. She smiled and shook her head at his silly little grin.

This was really fun.

She loved hearing these kids talk, there was even one girl like her whose parents were also never home. She liked her. The girl even offered that they go drive around some time! When she said that, Y/n of course nodded eagerly.

Wilbur, well he couldn't keep his eyes off her. He loved seeing her like this, it was like she was in her element. Meeting new people and making connections. It's a shame Techno has hogged her from people for so long. He resented him for that. To be fair, it's been like that since they've met. Wilbur saw her all the time, but only in brief interactions up until highschool.

She was so sweet, excited to talk to all of them even though he knew she was nervous, and Wilbur knew his friends loved her already. How could they not?

Wilbur was about to try to get her to talk to him for a little, seeing as how they'd been there for almost 45 minutes already and had barely spoken to him, but he was taped on the shoulder as a signal there was about to be a cigarette break out in the parking lot.

Wilbur stood, and leaned down to Y/n whispering to her where he was going. Just before he was about to go, he placed a soft kiss to her forehead.

Her eyes were wide.

“Look a bit..surprised there?” it was Eret, he sat down on the blanket next to Y/n just after seeing Will was about to go for a butt. He didn't want Y/n to sit all alone.

“I um..no yeah he just..its nothing.” Y/n laughed at her own lack of words, and Eret did too.

“I take it you two aren't official or anything?” his voice was low, and almost gravely but it was still so comforting.

Y/n knew he didn't mean it as if he were trying to make a move on her, he sounded genuinely curious.

“No it's..complicated. Very complicated.” Y/n stared at the fire.

“If I'm not prying, how so? You both seem..really..content together.” he looked from her to the fire.

“I..well his brother is my..best friend and he..”

“He..?” Eret leaned in a little.

“Well i don't know what he is to me really.” she looked at him, her face in question at her own realization.

“Well I know for a fact, he's infatuated with you.”

Y/ns eyes were wide again, “what?”

“Oh he's always going on about you.” Eret had a cheeky grin, almost like Will’s she thought, “He's been talking about you meeting all of us since he asked you yesterday. Not to mention he’s..” Eret stopped himself. He got carried away in his little ramble.

“He's what?” Y/n was confused why he stopped himself.

“No no, I really shouldn't have said anything.” he waved his hand as if he were brushing away his words.

Y/n groaned and threw her head back, “You can't do that!”

Eret laughed, “I'm sorry!”

“Tell me please.” she looked at him with pleading eyes.

Eret stared at her for a moment and sighed. “He's in love with you. But i don't know if you know that or not..so..” she did not. “I think I'm the only one hes told, but he was so...I don't know how to explain it. When he told me he sounded like he was pouring his heart out.” Eret’s eyes were on the fire.

He was in love with her?

Y/ns heart ached. No wonder he was so...hurt. It was her fault too.

As if on cue, (this boy was terribly good with timing) she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder as it slid around her shoulders. Will pulled her to his chest as he sat behind her. He smelled of smoke, but it was comforting. Before she thought about it, or what they were doing, she leaned back into him. The rest of the group took back their seats and conversion rose again.

Y/n an Wilbur sat listening quietly until she heard Will's voice in her ear.

“Chatting it up with Eret while I was gone?” his arm was still across her chest, his hand on her shoulder.

“I was, he's really nice.” she turned to look at him.

“Yeah?” he smiled at her in the dim light of the fire. She smiled back and nodded.

Wilbur stared at her a moment, “How about..we get out of here, and I show you another pretty place?” he was still smiling, but his eyes were nervous for a response.

“Sure. Sounds fun.” she gave him a reassuring smile.

Wilbur was quick to get up. Telling the group they were heading off, a little too excitedly.

Before Wilbur could pull her away, she quickly got all of the girls numbers and was even added to a group chat. She was beaming once they reached the car.

“And she even told me that i could go and hangout when they went to her house! Isn't that so sweet.” she looked at Will towards the end of her sentence to see he was already staring at her, his hand on the wheel in front of him.

His lip was in between his teeth, “Mhm. I knew you'd get along swimmingly with them.”

Y/n giggled.

“So where are we going?” she smiled to herself as Wilbur put his hand on her knee.

“Not saying, but, it's not far at all. We're practically there.” he was exaggerating, but the ride wasn't long at all.

Even though he wasn't, Wilbur felt as if he was driving slow. He felt like time was still, and he was glad. He wanted this to last as long as it could.

Y/n would have never expected what she saw, she was expecting a pretty clif with a view, or something like that.

He brought her to a flower field.

He parked the car on the side of the road towards the middle of the field.

Once they'd both stepped out, Wilbur went to her side.

“Up you go, turn around.” he motioned up at the top of his car. Y/n stared at him for a moment before turning around and letting him hoist her up so she could climb on top of the car. He climbed up after her and sat beside her.

For a little while, Y/n stared at the way the moonlight was casting a blue white onto the field and all the flowers. Wilbur stared at her. They sat this way for a little while but Y/n was the first to break the silence.

“A little birdy..told me something interesting.” she looked at him.

“Hm?” he hummed.

“Is it hard?” Y/n was staring at the moon, her hand was picking at the seam of her jeans.

“Is what hard?” Wilbur stared at her feet as they swung back and forth.

“..being in love with me.” she looked up at him, her eyes starry.

“Maybe. But it doesn't have to be.”

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hyper-fixationhighway · 4 years ago

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Beel's Special Bun

⚠️ Warning ⚠️

Those sensitive to talks about pregnancy and birth control should not read this. Nothing is explicitly stated, however if it's not your cup of tea, perhaps this is not for you. Additionally those who have not caught up in the most recent season (3) of the game run the risk of some spoilers. Thank you.

___________________________________________

It all started out like any other night since he had started his vacation with his brothers in the human world.

Beel was freshly out of the shower, donning his nightclothes that still clung to his moistened skin. Belphie wasn’t in just yet, likely having found some new, experimental place to take a nap in the human world that had gotten away from him. He’d have to find him, again, as per usual, before settling down for bed himself.

Well, tonight he was expecting Myreina to drop by. They were due for a midnight snack date, as they had usually gone about naming them, which left him with a warm giddy feeling.

That’s where the routine ended however, as Myreina burst through the door with urgency.

Beel moved to greet her, not really phased by the sudden entrance until he saw the palid look on her face and his smile fell away.

“Myreina? What’s wrong?”

“I’m late.”

“What? We didn’t agree to any specific time tonight. You don’t have to worry about something like that.”

“No Beel.” She stressed, looking at him with dire seriousness. “I’m late.”

It took a moment for the words to really sink in. He didn’t think much of tardiness and even she wasn’t the type to sweat it this much...no, this matter was far more concerning. And as the possibility finally began to dawn on him, his face slowly paled right along with hers.

“Wait. Do you mean…?”

Myreina nodded slowly.

Oh.

Beel took a moment to process that information, slowly digesting it before he took a breath and steadied himself. With a newfound look of resolution, he suddenly felt the need to be just about anywhere else but in this room. Or this house for that matter. He turned to his closet, rifling around in there and crammed his feet into whatever shoes were readily available. He tossed Myreina a coat of his and as she looked up from the oversized piece of clothing threatening to swallow her whole, he approached her slowly and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Let’s take a walk tonight.”

And that was how the two found themselves drifting aimlessly in the streets that night, silent as the dead and about as lost to the nightlife surrounding them.

This hadn’t been a thing he’d thought about. How hadn’t he thought about this? It wasn’t too long ago even that this would have become a concern for them.

He shook his head.

No. Focus. This wasn’t all about him right now, it was about the both of them. In fact, maybe even more of them. Which begged the first uncomfortable question of that long night.

“...Is it mine?”

Myreina’s frame went noticeably rigid.

He understood. After all, Myreina was in a committed relationship with all his brothers, even recently dating Simeon and perhaps even Solomon. Those were the conditions they had all agreed to when deciding to take her on as a partner and they respected that each relationship moved at its own pace.

However, given the unique quality of their relationship, it begged the question of whether or not his pace had somehow outdone everyone else's. Or at least lined up in this case. Why else appear at his door after all. Unless of course it was actually Belphie she had been trying to say this to, and he just happened to be in the room.

Would that make this scenario worse or better…? He wasn’t quite sure.

Myreina stumbled along awkwardly while he patiently waited. She seemed so nervous, maybe even scared to talk about it. It didn't make him feel all that great she was undergoing so much pressure.

“Stay here for a second.” Beel said after a while, escorting her to a bench nearby. “I think I have something that can help.”

Myreina obliged, seating herself at the bench and staring off into open space for a while, organizing her thoughts while Beel ran off somewhere. In that time he was gone, she debated how she felt a little more on the matter, recalling just who it was she was so fortunate to call a partner in this miniature crisis. She didn’t think less of her other partners, of course, however she did know that a couple amongst them may have reactions far less grounded than Beel. So at least in that sense she was wholly thankful.

As Beel approached her again, she felt she had found a sense of calm, assisted only when she discovered the reason for his momentary absence; a pair of small cakes and some portable teas, billowing out a sweet and calming scent amidst the steam. It warmed up her frigid frame little by little as she was carefully handed the tea container and the warmth seeped into her fingers through the carton.

“Thank you, Beel. So much.”

“Well, we did say we were going to have a midnight snack date tonight, didn’t we?” He sat besides her and blew into his tea, showing far more hesitation than he was usually known for before all but shotglassing the hot beverage back unbothered. “I don’t see why that plan has to change. It’s nice out tonight.”

Myreina giggled, feeling that warmth matched by something blossoming in her chest.

“You’re right. Maybe we should head outside for these midnight snack dates more often? Satan might not be so angry at us in the morning.”

The two giggled quietly, and things felt normal again. Nothing changed, nothing felt like the world was at the verge of collapse, a feeling she actually did have experience with and yet felt so distant from the pressure at hand. Beel hadn’t had the chance to resolve that crisis with his wholesome date method, but it was a lifesaver now.

After a couple of sips, Myreina sighed quietly into the chilly night air.

“It has to be yours.”

“Are you sure? There’s no one else it could be?”

“Positive.” Myreina nodded. “I um, did have other’s that fit the time frame, but we were the only ones who did it...you know…”

“Right.” Beel recalled. “It was rather sudden.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t expecting it and got carried away. Plus, we were in a game, maybe I wasn’t thinking the consequences would necessarily carry over.”

“Fair mistake.”

“I think so too. I mean, why would it carry over? It feels weird that it did.”

“I prefer it when fiction and reality have a harder line between them, I don’t know how Levi feels so comfortable blurring the line all the time.”

“Well, Levi is remarkably unique in that way.”

“I think you’re romanticising a very real concern, Myreina.”

Myreina giggled. “Maybe. I can admit to that.”

She took another few sips of her tea, giving the cake a once over and sighed, passing it over to Beel, which caught his surprise.

“Did you not like it? No, you didn’t even try it?”

“I’m sure I would have but honestly, looking at it right now makes me a little...sick?”

Oh.

He swallowed the cake in one bite without any further words.

It wasn’t until a little while after that, that Beel went on to whisper his next concern.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Beel shuffled about, feeling his face warm up in embarrassment, stretching all the way over the front of his face and over his ears.

“This isn’t...the kind of thing I wanted you to be stuck with when you remembered our first time.” He stammered over the end of his sentence and looked over at her, alarmed. “Not that I think this is something we’re stuck with! Or that, it’s even...something we can’t welcome! It’s just, I...I don’t want you to misunderstand, Myreina. I love you, so I wanted it to be really special, and we waited so long, after all! I just...this isn’t how I wished for things to play out.”

Myreina smiled and leaned into him, letting his tension melt along as it accommodated her body more comfortably. He was always like this. Effortlessly kind and supportive, caring and mindful of his position. Once again, reminding her that this, for all the important discussion it was, didn’t mean the end of the world. Not with him at her side.

“I will never regret that moment, Beel.” Myreina said, nuzzling into his big arm. The action prompted it to lift and wrap around her, bringing her close to him and surrounding her in his warmth.

“I love you, and this stands no chance against how I feel. It can’t change it. Not my feelings before, not during, not now. So you have nothing to worry about. Our first time together will always be a precious memory to me. Whatever the future that follows.”

She bit her lip.

“That being said…” Myreina took a moment, breathing in and breathing out to settle her nerves then looked up to meet his eyes, awaiting hers in that same, no, possibly more embarrassed gaze. “I...I’m not ready for this. Not now. I have a lot going on for me right now, and I want to give it it’s due attention.”

Her hands abandoned the tea container and found his big hands, wrapping them and eventually interlacing in the most natural way.

“I want to treasure you and the pace of our relationship right now, I want to become a sorcerer that Solomon and the human world can be proud of...I want to see what role I can play in Lord Diavolo’s plan and, well, I want to keep dancing. There’s just too many things I want to keep doing before I think about adding a baby to the mix.” Myreina shut her eyes a bit, feeling Beel lean his forehead on hers, kisses coming up from her cheeks up to her temple. “It’s just not time for it right now...do you understand?”

She felt his lips form that same, gentle smile against her temple where they had lingered.

“Of course I do. I completely agree.”

Her eyes opened slowly, meeting his and they squinted from her overjoyed smile.

“You do? I mean, with you Beel, maybe...one day, I wouldn’t mind.”

Beel nodded. “With you I could do anything. A kid...I can see that.”

His smiling lips dipped down, kissing the exposed fingers laced between his. “Just not right now.”

“Beel…” She unlocked her fingers and wrapped her arms around him, feeling his rush to mirror the same, squeezing her lightly. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Myreina.”

Letting the moment rest, they eventually came apart, Beel easily plopping her down onto his lap and the two reestablishing a sense of calm.

“But I do have a question…” Myreina pressed after a while, turning a new concern over in her brain. “Where...do we go from here? I mean, we have facilities here for human babies, but is it the same for demon/human hybrids? Is that even a thing?”

“It’s more common than you think.” Beel admitted, feeling a little embarrassed. “A lot of demons and humans get intimate when summoned to the human world. After all, a pact doesn’t necessarily need to be negotiated with a soul after all. There are all kinds of arrangements.”

“Oh.”

Beel and Myreina laughed awkwardly, feeling themselves flush at the face at the prospect of it.

“But, I don’t know of any facilities in the human world that could accommodate that. We’d have to go to the Devildom, at least if we don’t want to mention this to any of my brothers. Which, I'm going to assume we don’t.”

“You would be right.” Myreina immediately agreed.

“I’ll contact Barbatos to situate a portal for us to the Devildom. I might not be able to evade telling him, especially if I’m already keeping this a secret from everyone else. And he will want to know why he should make a portal for us exclusively…”

“That’s fine. I trust him to be discreet.” Myreina rationalized. “More so even than myself.”

“I don’t think we have to worry, I mean, no one will know you went to the Devildom for the day and if anyone asks where you went, you can say it was a scheduled check up. That’s not technically lying, is it?”

“It’s not lying at all actually.”

She may not be able to tell lies, but she could at least withhold the gorrier details of a truth. After all, she didn’t share every word to her partners. No matter how deeply they interrogated. And as long as no one asked her about being specifically expectant, then there would be nothing more to add to the matter than a simple check up.

Snacks and discussions completed, the two picked up after themselves and began the trek back home, a lot livelier compared to their departure. However, before they could get too close, Myreina stopped and noticed the road back to her original place before moving into the mansion, calling Beel out of his distracted thoughts of procuring a second snack upon their arrival.

“Something wrong?”

“I just had a thought.” Myreina started, looking at him with a certain glint in her eye. “Our first time was in a game. A fictional world.”

“Yes…?” Beel confirmed, blushing a bit at the sudden recollection. “What about it?”

“Well, do you think that’s actually all that fair? I mean, how are we to know if it feels different in a game?”

“Well, I mean, the consequences carried over just fine…”

Myreina laughed at his slightly bitter tone, something so uncharacteristic for him these days, yet still wholly in character as he missed the greater picture.

She stood before him, training his eyes to follow her as she gave him a more suggestive look, marveling as his expression slowly started to become more knowing as to what she had been alluding.

“I just think there's a time and place for fiction, and that there ought to be a clear distinction between it and reality.”

Beel smiled a bit, then began to chuckle shyly. “Are...you serious, Myreina?”

“Very much so. I mean, the way I see it, we happen to be in a very fortunate set of circumstances right here and now!”

“How do you figure?”

“Well…” Myreina pointed down a path in the opposite direction of the manor. “My house...happens to be just down that way. You haven’t seen it before, have you? No one has actually...you’d be the first.”

Beel closed the distance between them a bit, planting a large hand onto the small of her back and drawing her flush onto his body, still laughing in modest amusement.

“Is that right?”

“Yup! Not only that...but when you really think about it…” She leaned up and whispered as close to his ear as her tiptoeing could manage, assisted by his full interest leaning him forward to meet her. “You don’t need to protect against a consequence that’s already happened, do you?”

His face practically burned.

He often forgot how much bolder Myreina had become since accepting them all and leaving behind her inhibitions. He also forgot just how damn good that stood to feel.

Head filled with a different kind of emerging hunger, he pressed a kiss to her lips which she reciprocated with a steamy, unfiltered passion, only whetting his growing appetite for her. He pulled away, their breaths and mindsets building a heated space between what little they allowed between them.

“Let’s go.”

#obey me shall we date #obey me fanfiction #obey me beelzebub #beelzebub #original character #pregnancy #mature themes #female original character #fluffy #not smut #birth control

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lemondzest · 4 years ago

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Understanding Obesity (Part 2): Whose responsibility for obesity?

Now that we know obesity is a public health crisis requiring urgent action, we may wonder - what causes it? After all, effective solutions require tackling the root causes of the problem. This part therefore aims to shed light on five of the many contributing factors to obesity.

1. Choices

Nothing much to elaborate here; choosing to eat more and moving less will result in weight gain. More calories in, less calories out - basic law of thermodynamics. Boring. However, many people are quick to go down the reductionist route by placing ALL the blame on the individual’s personal choices. If it’s just a matter of people needing to make the right choices, if it’s really that simple, we would have tackled obesity long ago. Blaming obesity solely on individual choices does not answer WHY we are increasingly eating more and moving less. Take a look at this timeline of adult obesity in the U.S below by the CDC, similarly reported in other countries across the globe.

The rate of obesity has tripled worldwide since the late 1970s. If obesity is simply caused by a lack of personal responsibility, what happened in the late 1970s? Did everyone collectively lose their rationale - maybe everyone got together, decided to YOLO and go buffet in life? Definitely possible (cue the entrance of conspiracy theorists), but highly unlikely. Did some form of transcendent power strike the DNA of humans collectively that made us evolve into a bunch of lazier and much more ravenous creatures? Scientists have studied evolutionary changes during this period and concluded that nope, our gene pool has remained constant; any changes in the gene pool would take hundreds of years to produce an obvious effect across a global population anyway. This means that:

the global rise in obesity is not because of any significant genetic changes,

people did not willingly choose to eat more and move less,

there are other external factors that mainly drives the obesity epidemic.

Consider a class of 10 pupils. When only one pupil gets very low grades in an exam and the other nine got full marks, the one pupil is considered mainly at fault. Perhaps they need to study more and work harder to get a good mark. But when six out of ten got very low grades, is it still the pupils’ fault? Would we then tell the children to study more, while everyone else (i.e the teacher, parents, education system) just remain in inertia, or goyang kaki?

Similarly, when 63% of the people in Brunei are living with overweight and obesity -- is it still entirely their fault?

2. Environment

(Please bear with me, I’m trying my best not to turn this section into a whole thesis).

The environment is one of the largest contributors of the rise in the obesity epidemic. This is based on rigorous academic evidence and decades of research. Essentially, the environment has generally promoted the increased consumption of unhealthier food through a rapid increase in its:

availability : since the 1970s, the food environment underwent a shift from predominantly fresh produce to a more ultra processed diet. Food are being processed to the point where they look nothing like what they originally look like, stuffing them with cheap ingredients such as sugar, salt, trans-fats and flavourings to enable mass production to be sold at cheap prices and for easy consumption. These products are called ultra processed food, and examples include soda, sausages, nuggets, sugary cereals, instant noodles, crisps, chocolates and so on. Because of its poor nutritional profile, ultra processed food has confidently been associated with higher risks of obesity, heart disease, type 2 diabetes, cancer, depression, asthma, etc. And we, especially young people, are consuming more of this than ever.

exposure : we're talking about the aggressive marketing strategies that has been employed especially by the fast food industry and beyond. I remember going back home from the airport after my 14-day COVID quarantine being bombarded by roughly 10 billboard ads, majority of which are advertising for fast food. As I went out and about for the next few months, I realised that we are exposed to food companies constantly fighting for our attention through their advertisements, whether in the form of billboard ads, physical outlets, leaflets, newspaper ads, TV ads, social media ads, social media influencers, event sponsorships, - the list just goes on! In fact, 46% of the annual advertising budget in the UK goes to soda, confectionery and snacks, while only 2.5% goes to fruits and vegetables. Imagine if it was the other way around.. One can only dream... The point is, we as humans are constantly being tempted with unhealthier food rather than healthier food, which in turn, drives up our purchase and consumption of unhealthier food products. I also particularly like this photo taken in the UK that just showcases the pedestal unhealthier food ads are being placed on, i.e. same level as public health ads. Oh, the irony! (Good news for Bruneians - a code of conduct on responsible food marketing has been implemented recently to shield our children from these ads! Just what we need, priority on children’s health > anything else.)

portion sizes : certain food such as pizza and soft drinks underwent a significant increase in portion sizes from the 1970s to 2000s. Just a few days ago I went to to a fast food outlet and noticed that, as usual, the default drink choice is soda, but the default size is now the large one as compared to the smaller one that I remember seeing 3 years ago before I left the country. I was also informed that some other outlets have been asking customers to upsize their drinks by default. Just how necessary is this? We may think this is not a problem because people supposedly eat according to their physiological needs and can simply stop when they’re full, and so they wouldn’t need to finish the whole portion. But research leading to the discovery of what is known as the portion size effect (PSE) has suggested otherwise; the more energy-dense food people are served, the more they tend to eat.

The 21st century environment is also promoting physical inactivity and a sedentary lifestyle compared to the past centuries. Opportunities for physical activity especially in high-income countries have declined possibly due to the rapid urbanisation, rise in 9-5 jobs and more people relying on motorised transportation methods. Although research has shown that physical activity (PA) among adults done during free time have increased in the past ~30 years, a simultaneous decrease was found in physical activity done while working in the past ~50 years. Young people are also observed to be more physical inactive levels throughout the years, though locally... I like to think that our younger people are getting more physical-activity-conscious nowadays since applaudable efforts to widen opportunities for PA such as the launch of Bandarku Ceria and the opening of numerous hiking sites and gyms booming in 2019-2020. But this could just be my skewed perception looking at a small and specific demographic of the population - more formal research needs to be done.

So, we know that the environment is the main factor that drives up the obesity pandemic. But if we are all living in an environment which predisposes us to develop obesity, why don't we ALL have obesity? This tells us that there are other factors that makes an individual more likely to act on the environment's impulses - such as their socioeconomic status (income, education) and especially their genes.

3. Income

Research among developed countries such as the UK, Australia, Germany and Singapore has shown that people who are from lower income level are significantly associated with a higher risk of obesity. This graph below just shows how stark the inequality is between the most and least deprived areas of the UK. Note also how rapidly-widening the gap is over the years!

Why are poorer families in developed countries more likely to live with obesity?

Food that are more nutritious are often less affordable than nutritious food. I particularly love this infographic showing how in order to meet the general recommendation of a healthy diet in the UK, the poorer families would have to spend 39% of their income on food alone, while this percentage steadily decreases as your income increases, to as low as 8% for the richer families. The same pattern is reflected in many other countries including the USA, Australia and

This inequality is not just seen within countries, but also across countries. One study across 18 countries identified that in order to meet the recommended guideline of 5 servings of fruits and vegetables per day, families in lower income countries would need to spend 52% of their income on them, those in middle income countries would need to spend 17% while those in higher income countries would need to spend a mere 2% of their income.

The price gap between healthier and unhealthier food can then affect people's purchasing behaviour, where families from lower income are forced to prioritise quantity of food over quality. For some of us, we are privileged enough to be able to choose food that are delicious, nutritious, and of different variety each time. But for some others, especially among families with poorer background battling food insecurity, they can only afford to eat in order to feel full and get through the day. Research has shown how poorer families always have to 1) balance out their choices of food with the utilisation of scarce resources, and 2) make judgment of food prices relative to other food prices. Combining this with the known fact discussed above that unhealthier food are FAR more aggressively marketed (almost 20 times more) than healthier food - we are left with a group of the population who are predisposed to choosing food that are mainly satiating, and less nutritious than the recommended guideline.

In fact, we know that even more factors than those discussed above can contribute to people from poorer families having an unhealthier diet. One of them is, on top of the price gap of groceries, we have the price gap of fast food. Parents who are busy and don't have much time to cook nutritious and homemade food often resort to fast food to sustain their family. Sure, we have a plethora of fast food options to choose from (and they just keep increasing - don't get me started). But what kind of fast food is both affordable and nutritious? Nasi katok costs $1 while a balanced meal costs $5 (minimum), and this disparity is seen all around the world.

Given all this, we still have the audacity to say that obesity is simply caused by a lack of willpower?

Gimme a break. It is clear that people who are not as financially privileged requires additional support in order to maintain a healthy weight. If not through finance, through education (further explained in Cause 4), or even better - both!

Side note: Despite the overwhelming evidence that having low income is associated with higher risk of obesity, there is also emerging evidence showing the possibility of the opposite (reverse causality); living with obesity is ALSO associated with having low income due to stigmatisation and discrimination. So basically... living with low income may cause people to live with obesity, and likewise living with obesity may cause people to live with low income. This syndemic is similar to the that of obesity and mental health issues discussed in Part 1.

4. Education

Health is not formally taught in most schools. Health starts at home. Because of this varying education level and awareness about health across the population, each family has very different approaches of ensuring how their family can grow up adopting healthy behaviours.

Generally, the likelihood of having obesity increases with decreasing level of education. This was observed in many countries including Taiwan, Saudi Arabia and Iran. The trend is similarly reported in OECD countries such as Australia, Canada, England and Korea as shown below.

This may be because more educated families tend to have healthier lifestyles and are more aware of what the causes and consequences are of obesity. If a family is lacking awareness and knowledge on certain aspects of health, such as in nutrition - eg: what the importance of consuming enough fibre is, what exactly constitutes a balanced diet, how to cook nutritious meals under time constraint etc - then their family will be less likely to adopt healthy (protective) behaviours.

Awareness on the causes and consequences of obesity indeed remain low within many communities. In one study, 76% of young people surveyed believe that "obesity has a genetic cause and that there is nothing much one can do to prevent obesity". Almost 30% of them also believe that even when substantial changes were made to one's lifestyle, obesity cannot be prevented. In the UK, around 3 in 4 people didn't know that obesity can cause cancer - the leading cause of death worldwide.

Not only are people unaware of the causes and consequences of obesity, many people even show a general lack of understanding of obesity itself. It was found that among 401 Malaysians surveyed, 92% of those with obesity underperceive their weight, thinking that their weight is at a normal range or lower than it actually is. This is particularly concerning, because any intervention efforts to reduce obesity rate within a community will just bounce back by the majority of the target group who think the messages are 'not for them because they don't have obesity' when they actually do.

All in all, if you come from an educated family background - good for you. If you have the opportunity to study more about health, or human/medical sciences - good for you. But what about those who do not have all these privileges?

Side note: There is also evidence showing how having lower education level is not just associated with higher level of obesity in a direct manner, but also indirectly where having a low education level may contribute to households having a lower income, and as discussed above in No.3 -> may result in a stacked effect on obesity. This is called the mediation effect and more explanation can be found here (pg 133).

5. Genetics

Over 200 genes influence our body shape and size. This include genes that affects how frequently we feel hungry, the rate that we burn calories, our metabolism rate, and many more! Some of these individual genes can increase our likelihood of becoming heavier while some other genes tend to make us lighter depending on whether it is 'switched on or off'. And this mix of 'on and offs' for EACH gene is always going to be different between individuals (polymorphism).

Because of our own 'mixed bag' of ~200 obesity-related genes interacting with each other, some people will find it much harder to resist that bar of Kinder Bueno sitting on the cashier till, while some others wouldn't even bat an eye. Some people naturally feels full after a bowl of rice, while some others would need three bowls. Some people can store a large amount of fats while some others can store only half of that amount before those fats (lipids) seep into other tissues instead such as muscles and potentially cause diseases (lipotoxicity).

Our genetic differences within the population explains why some people respond differently to the obesogenic environment we live in. It is not as simple as our genes determining whether we develop obesity or not. We simply can't be saying "Oh it's in my genes, got it from my parents~" to justify our lack of effort to address obesity. There's no single gene that makes people develop obesity. But rather, our mixed bag of genes determine our susceptibility to obesity. For people with many of those genes that makes it likely for them to gain weight easily 'switched on' -> they will be more susceptible to obesity because their own biology makes it much harder for them to fight back the temptations of the obesogenic environment.

Because this concept is so difficult to be understood by people who have always had a healthy weight all their life, privileged with not having the genes raising the likelihood of obesity 'switched on' -> they tend to blame obesity solely on the individual's personal choice. Because their own biology makes it easier for them to resist the temptations of the obesogenic environment.

As Joslin - an American doctor - described almost a century ago which pretty much summarises the role of genetics in obesity:

Genetics probably loads the gun, while lifestyle in our obesogenic environment pulls the trigger for the spreading of the obesity epidemic.

Does this mean that people who have genes that makes it more susceptible to develop obesity can simply blame their genes for their weight?

No! Not entirely. They can and should apply the same general concept of weight loss to counteract the risk of obesity, i.e. - eating balanced meals, doing plenty of physical activity (going back to the boring law of thermodynamics: more calories out than in = weight loss). However, it will be especially harder for these people to achieve it due to their obesity-encouraging genes. They have to put in more effort to lose 1kg than someone with less of the obesity-encouraging genes.

What this means for those with obesity: Your own genes and biology is one of the factors why your BMI is considered high at the moment and why it feels so difficult to lose weight. It is important for you to understand this, so that you don't beat yourself up too often! It is not entirely your fault. It will be hard, and in fact it will be harder than many people, but what matters is for you stay focused in putting in the work to get there!

What this means for those with healthy weight: It's about time for you to stop blaming everything on the individual's personal choice when you don't even know how difficult they have it and how much they have been trying to fight their own biology. Don't act like you know their struggles just to shame and stigmatise them because you don't and neither do I. Leave it to their close family and personal doctor to consult them.

What this means for policymakers: We have a duty in making sure that 1) the environment is as conducive as possible to live a healthy lifestyle to avoid 'triggering the gun', and 2) people are aware that genes play a big factor too (of around 40-70%) in determining someone's weight and its not just entirely down to the individual.

Side note: The genetic explanation above which acknowledges the role of hundreds of different genes in the development of obesity is applicable to the majority of people living with obesity (polygenic obesity). However, there are also the minority of people who develop obesity due to mutation in single genes (monogenic obesity / syndromic obesity) which warrants a separate and more technical explanation.

Bottom Line

To summarise the cause of obesity:

As mentioned in Cause 1, how we develop obesity is always down to the individual eating more and moving less. But as explained in Cause 2, 3, 4 & 5, the complex interaction between the environment, the individual's socioeconomic conditions, and their own biology explains why it is so difficult for some people to eat less and move more.

To summarise the cause of the obesity pandemic:

Personal choice explains why one individual may develop obesity, but the environment explains why more people across the whole world is developing obesity. Our socioeconomic conditions and especially our genetics then explains why not ALL people develop obesity as a response to the change in environment.

So what should I do with all these information?

That's entirely up to you and how much you understood! But the reason why I brought this topic up is because I'm personally sick and tired of hearing people living with obesity being blamed for their "poor choices in life", "lack of self-control", for "being gluttonous", "lazy", etc.

As I have hopefully explained, obesity is undoubtedly very complex and a result of so many factors. These five things I mentioned above? There's. So. Much. More.

Click here for a clearer view.

So the next time we blame it all on people with obesity - check your privileges. You're rich? You're naturally slim? You're educated? You don't have as much obesity-encouraging genes? Good for you. Perhaps that tends to make you feel entitled to say that people who are living with obesity just needs to make "better choices".

But understand that you have it easier in maintaining your healthy weight, while people with obesity most likely have it harder. The least you could do is really be sympathetic and understanding, acknowledge their struggles, and certainly avoid shaming and stigmatising them. Make it easier for them by providing healthier choices and support them physically and emotionally in their goals of achieving a healthy weight!

Aren't you just giving an excuse for people to live with obesity?

Disclaimer: My BMI sits quite well on the healthy range at 23 kg/m^2. I am nowhere close to having obesity, nor do I have any family members, partners or close friends living with obesity. I literally gain NOTHING to be making up an excuse for people to live with obesity. Quite on the contrary, I understand its dire consequences as I have outlined in Part 1, and I have even mentioned personal choice as one of the causes above. It's not about giving excuses, but simply an effort to give voice and justice to those who has been silenced.

I hope I have gotten my point across through this post and the previous one in my Obesity Series! Let's all be more-informed members of the society and support each other in achieving our health goals :)

*Note: For simplicity purposes, ‘unhealthier food’ in this post refers generally to food lower in nutritional profile, and food high in fat, sugar and salt (HFSS). In reality, we should understand that food does not exist in a binary manner.

Unlinked References:

Gene Eating by Giles Yeo (Book)

CMO Independent Report: Time to Solve Childhood Obesity by Professor Dame Sally Davies

#obesity #brunei #child obesity #childhood obesity #causes of obesity #obesogenic environment #health #healthy lifestyle

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new-sandrafilter · 5 years ago

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Timothée Chalamet and Eileen Atkins Interview - British Vogue May 2020

“Maybe your knuckles weren’t bleeding, but there was ice,” Timothée Chalamet tells Dame Eileen Atkins. He is recounting, with no small amount of awe, how he first came to hear of the legendary 85-year-old actor with whom he is about to appear at The Old Vic. It transpires that Oscar Isaac, Chalamet’s co-star in the upcoming blockbuster Dune, was at the receiving end of Atkins’ fist in Ridley Scott’s Robin Hood (all in the name of acting, of course). Chalamet was duly impressed.

“I gave him the worst time of his life,” says Atkins, bristling at the memory, before merrily launching into several candid, very dame-like stories from her time on set – “That was a nightmare movie. A nightmare.”

It is a Saturday afternoon in late February, and the two actors – one a titan of British theatre with an eight-decade career; the other, Hollywood’s most in-demand young leading man, with an insatiable Instagram following – have just finished being photographed together for Vogue. Chalamet, 24, in louche, low-slung denim and a white T-shirt, has folded his Bambi limbs into a chair next to Atkins, whose hawkish frame, in a navy jumper and jeans, belies her 85 years.

“Do you like being called Tim or Timothée or what?” Atkins asks in her warm but brisk RP, all trace of her Tottenham upbringing erased.

“Whatever works,” he replies in a bright American accent, that shock of chestnut hair falling into his eyes. “Anything.”

“So you won’t object to ‘darling’? I call everyone darling. I’m told I mustn’t say it these days.” He assures her he is fine with it: “It’s a rite of passage, being called darling by Dame Eileen Atkins.”

“You always, always, have to put the dame in, otherwise you can’t address me,” she jokes.

It’s good the two are getting all this sorted now. A couple of days after our interview they will begin rehearsals for a seven-week run of Amy Herzog’s play 4000 Miles, in which they star as a grandmother and grandson, each quietly dealing with their own grief. Chalamet takes on the role of Leo Joseph-Connell, a somewhat lost 21-year-old who experiences a tragedy while on a 4,000-mile-long cycle ride with his best friend. Atkins plays Vera Joseph, his widowed 91-year-old grandmother, upon whose Manhattan doorstep Leo unexpectedly arrives in the middle of the night, unsure of where else to go. What follows is a wonderful, and wonderfully witty, study in human relationships, a portrait of two generations with decades between them trying to make sense of the world.

Its stars, who’ve met twice previously, in New York last year, are still very much getting to know each other – and are confident in the appeal. “There are things like this play – hoping I don’t butcher it – where you can just sit back and go, ‘Oh, this is a delicious meal,’” says Chalamet. Atkins agrees. “I have a phrase in mind that I shouldn’t really say because it’s going to sound terrible in print.” Which is? “I find it a dear little play, a really dear little play. I think it should be very moving. But who knows? We might f**k it up.”

It’s unlikely. Atkins has been a regular on The Old Vic’s stage since the 1960s, going toe-to-toe with greats from Laurence Olivier to Alec Guinness, and fellow dames (and close friends) Maggie Smith and Judi Dench. Chalamet, meanwhile, is a relative novice, with only two professional plays under his belt. But since his turn as Elio in 2017’s Call Me by Your Name (for which he was Oscar-nominated), his celluloid rise has been meteoric. Roles in Lady Bird, Little Women, The King and Wes Anderson’s upcoming The French Dispatch have not only earned him the slightly fraught badge of ��heart-throb”, but proved him to be among the most captivating actors of his generation.

He says he couldn’t resist the opportunity to come to the capital. “There was something exciting about doing a play that feels very New York in London,” Chalamet explains of taking on the part. He’s a diehard theatre fan, too, revealing he saw the six-and-a-half-hour epic The Inheritance – twice. “There are films like The Dark Knight or Punch-Drunk Love or Parasite that can give you a special feeling. But nothing will be like seeing Death of a Salesman on Broadway with Philip Seymour Hoffman or A Raisin in the Sun with Denzel Washington.”

Herzog’s writing particularly spoke to him. “Leo’s in a stasis that was very appealing to me,” he continues. “We find our crisis in moments of stasis, but there’s an irony to it when you’re young, because the law of the land would have you think that to be young is to be having fun, to be coming into your own. But as everyone at this age who’s going through it knows, it’s often a shitshow.”

It’s safe to say that, in casting terms, director Matthew Warchus, also artistic director of The Old Vic, has hit the jackpot. He first took the play to Atkins three years ago, but it was only towards the end of 2019 that Chalamet came on board. When it was announced, in December, that Hollywood’s heir apparent to Leonardo DiCaprio would be making his London stage debut, the news was met with a level of hysteria not usually associated with the 202-year-old theatre’s crowd.

“Oh, my friends have told me who the audience is,” Atkins chimes in when I ask who they think will be coming to see the show. “It’s 40 per cent girls who want to go to bed with Timothée, it’s 40 per cent men who want to go to bed with Timothée, and it’s 20 per cent my old faithfuls.” Is Chalamet prepared for the onslaught? “I think it will be 100 per cent Eileen’s faithfuls,” he demurs.

On the surface, they can seem quite the odd couple. Chalamet, raised in Manhattan by an American dancer-turned-realtor mother and French father, an in-house editor at the United Nations, may be living a breathless, nomadic movie-star life but there’s an iron core of Gen Z earnestness there. He arrives on set with minimal fuss, even deciding to wear the clothes he came in for one shot, before knocking out some push-ups, politely ordering an omelette and generally being divinely well-mannered.

He turns on the star power for the camera, though, and I can confirm it’s as dazzling up close as it is on the red carpet, where he has, famously, casually redrawn the rules for male dressing. From that Louis Vuitton sparkly bib at the 2018 Golden Globes, to a dove-grey satin Haider Ackermann tux at Venice last year, he’s a true fashion darling. Then, of course, there’s his dating life – from Lourdes Ciccone Leon to Lily-Rose Depp – that remains an endless source of fascination to millions worldwide. (All this, it must be said, is of significantly less interest to Dame Eileen.)

Atkins started dance lessons aged three, shortly before the start of the Second World War. By 12, she was performing professionally in pantomime, not far from where she grew up in north London, the youngest daughter in a working-class family. A fast-established theatre star, wider fame didn’t find her until late in life. Despite memorable turns in Upstairs, Downstairs and Gosford Park, it was the 2000 television hits Cranford and Doc Martin, when she was in her early seventies, that finally made her a household name. Today, she lives alone in west London, since her second husband, the TV and film producer Bill Shepherd, died in 2016. She has often spoken of being happily childless, and has zero time for razzmatazz.

And yet, despite their differences, the pair appear perfectly matched. They already have their grandmother-grandson dynamic down pat. Atkins does a fine line in mischievous eyebrow-raising, and at one point recites a limerick that is, honestly, so rude it almost makes her co-star blush. Chalamet, meanwhile, is politeness personified, still trying to work out his thoughts on various subjects, less inclined to give so much of himself away. There is a physical likeness, too, in their delicate features and fine bone structure. They share a naturally melancholic look, one that melts away when they laugh.

Their upcoming play, which premiered to rapturous reviews Off-Broadway in 2011, “about a block” from Chalamet’s high school, LaGuardia, could have been written for them. “Other than not being American, I’m very like the old woman,” says Atkins of the Pulitzer-shortlisted play. “I can’t be bothered to learn the internet.” If there’s one thing she won’t tolerate in rehearsals, it’s people on their phones. That’s the only thing that will “piss me off ”, she says, brusquely.

Ah, phones. Are they really the symbol of generational disconnect? “It’s easy to point to these things,” Chalamet says, tapping his phone on the table, “as the cause or the symptom, but I think my generation is a guinea pig generation of sorts. We’re figuring out the pros and cons and limits of technology.”

Equally, Atkins is keen to distance herself from some of the criticism levelled at her age group. “There’s a saying isn’t there: if you’re not very left wing when you’re young, you’re heartless. And if you’re not very right wing when you’re old, you’re foolish. I’m not political, but I’m not with this government I can assure you – and I’m not with Brexit. I wanted to wear a sweater saying ‘I did not vote Brexit’, because it was all old people who did. Not me, not me,” she snaps. “I went on the march.”

Both are in agreement that intergenerational friendships are too rare these days. “So. Important,” Chalamet says, hitting the table between each word. “There is so much to learn from people who have walked the path of life. That’s why I’m so looking forward to these next couple of months.”

Atkins is thoughtful on the matter. “I don’t miss the fact I don’t have children, but I do envy my friends who have grandchildren,” she says. “About five or six years ago I met a couple of young people – they are just about 30 this year – and, do you know, we go out together. And people immediately say to me, ‘Are these your grandchildren?’ And I say, ‘No.’ And they say, ‘Your godchildren?’ And I say, ‘No, they’re just friends.’ Everybody thinks there is something weird about all three of us. They just don’t get it. But the boy makes me laugh more than anybody and the girl is enchanting. I have more fun with them than I do with almost anybody else.”

I remind Atkins about her description of today’s youth as being overly serious. “I do call them the New Puritans, yes,” she says, before motioning to her young co-star. “He probably drinks like a fish.”

Chalamet, currently single, is remaining tight-lipped about plans for his new London life, and how many late-night manoeuvres in Soho or Peckham it may involve. “I’ve got friends here, which is nice. But I’m here for this – to be terrified at The Old Vic.”

Before we leave, there is a final thing to clear up – Atkins’ aforementioned limerick. “Do you know about the Colin Farrell situation?” Eileen asks Timothée. No, comes his reply. “Better get it over with now because someone will tell you,” she says, proceeding to explain how, when she was “69, about to be 70” and filming Ask the Dust with a 27-year-old Farrell, “he made a pass at me. He came to my hotel room. He was enchanting. I let him chat for two hours, thoroughly enjoying it, but no not that. He was very cross I didn’t.”

But then, she explains guiltily, she later told the story during “some stupid TV show” (Loose Women), where despite her best efforts at keeping Farrell’s identity secret, the internet did its thing and news got out. An apology to Farrell was required. “So I left a limerick on Colin’s phone…” she says. She clears her throat: “There once was a **** of a dame…” she begins, in her imitable theatrical timbre, before reeling off one of the filthiest rhymes I’ve ever heard.

There is a moment of stunned laughter. “Wow, that’s sincerely amazing,” comes Chalamet’s response, as Atkins finishes the verse. He gives her a solemn oath: “I promise I won’t hit on you.”

4000 Miles is at The Old Vic, SE1, from 6 April

#timmy #timothee chalamet #4000 miles #british vogue app #Eileen Atkins #my edit

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assassins-and-hidden-blades · 4 years ago

Text

Initiates -- Original AC OC Fic

8//12/2020: Okay so yup here’s my OC espionage story that I’ve adapted for the AC universe. I proofread it once and will probably edit it again when I reread it in like two days lol. Thanks to @alexiios for solving my temporary naming crisis lol. If you want me to post OC fact files (if you enjoy this), then hmu/lmk! I loved writing this (like months ago) and I want to give you guys SOME content, so I hope you’ll have as much fun reading it as I had writing it! Tagging people that might enjoy it? (plus @/alexiios lmao don’t want to spam you with mentions)

Hard to believe that this is only 2242 words but ok go off i guess

Feedback greatly appreciated, as always!

WARNINGS: Violence, car crash, hospital mention, blood mention

Tagging: @marshmallow--3 // @britishhotassassin // @rahdahleigh // @iceboundstar // @sofiewithat // @mythandmagik (I’m guessing your url changed aha)

“I think I’m gonna check,” Jake lightly knocked his knuckles against the wooden table.

Zoe lifted the corner of her hand. “I raise thirteen.”

The last card was placed onto the table. Last chance to bet. “Twenty-six,” Jake gazed through his eyelashes, raising the bet once again.

Groaning, Zoe threw her cards onto the pile of chips in the middle of the table, two fives staring her in the face. “Fine, you win.”

“As per usual!” Jake laughed as he slapped a pair of kings down in front of him and collected his chips.

“Jesus! You always get the good hand!” Jake flashed a look of offense.

“No I do--” He was briskly interrupted.

“Name one time you’ve lost! I bet you cheat.”

Before he could reply, someone walked through the door of the lunch room. “Nick?” Jake’s voice laced in confusion as his smirk dropped.

“Break’s over. We need you both.”

Startled, the two followed their boss into a briefing room. “What’s the problem?” Zoe asked, leaning against the table. Jake sat down on a chair next to her, kicking his shoes onto the polished wood beside her. He popped some gum in his mouth before undoing his top button of his checked shirt; the two of them opted for a casual office day. Zoe and Nick both declined as he offered them each a piece. “Really? It’s strawberry…”

“Not now, Jake. We have a missing agent. You are two of our best trackers; no one else in the whole department is as… experienced. We need you to find him before it’s too late.” A picture was brought up; blond hair and brown eyes.

“He was last seen at these coordinates-- get on it.” Nick left the two in silence as he dropped two files on the table and left the room.

Zoe picked one up and slid the other one Jake’s way, hitting his shoes. Sitting straight, he leaned forwards to take a closer look. “I have the agent.”

“I’ve got the leads…” Zoe mumbled with a frown, sifting through the relatively thin file that had been accumulated over the past few days. CCTV screenshots, cases previously solved that could harbour motive for revenge, and a few other documents referring to things she had never seen or heard of before. “Hey, Jake?”

“Hmm?” He looked up with interest, his chewing paused.

“Have you ever heard of Abstergo Industries?”

There was a silence as he thought. “No; is it one of those massive corporations?”

Zoe’s eyes roamed various images of murder scenes, all having one thing in common; jewellry in the shape of a cross, circled in red ink. “Something like that…”

Did Nick mean for us to see this? It feels classified…

“So his name is Matthew Anderson. Twenty-six, unmarried, single child, no children. There is literally no record of him anywhere; no school record, no criminal record, no family record; nothing. Only things like “Favourite coffee shop”. The man’s an enigma. Why would anyone want to kidnap him? There’s no evidence to justify a ransom or leverage of any sort…”

“It does seem strange, but it might have something to do with this Abstergo place. Let’s go to that coffee shop and see what we can find.”

Jake followed Zoe towards the armory; full of necessary gear and equipment. The pair grabbed what they needed, namely the issued pepper spray and tasers. Their badges waited for them, along with any IDs they may need. “Ready?” Zoe debated bringing a firearm, but decided against it; there was already going to be one in the glovebox.

All Jake did was wink and smile, donning his jacket. “Always.”

----------

They spent the rest of the afternoon searching for answers in the coffee shop. Social media, local news posts, Police records-- even private databases -- all with the keyword, ‘Abstergo’. Jake left to the counter after a while to buy more coffee for the two of them; their eyes had begun to sting from staring at a screen for so long. Zoe was writing some information down in her notepad when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She glanced to see someone dressed in a grey hoodie and tracksuit bottoms. They had hidden their features under their hood, but Zoe could tell that they were looking in her direction. Hiding behind fallen hair, she rubbed her palms against her jeans.

Jake returned with her latte, placing it down before sitting to nurse his cappuccino. He noticed how unsettled she had become. “You okay? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” After he spoke, he licked the milk mousse moustache from his upper lip.

Zoe smiled, his actions calming her slightly. “I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just…” She lowered her voice. “There’s a guy over there. He’s just… staring.” Jake quickly flitted his gaze over in that direction and then back at his partner, his head unmoving.

“He is a bit creepy, isn’t he?” he mumbled. “Feel like getting out of here?”

“Please.” Jake left to get takeaway cups as Zoe started clearing the table.

The sun had already begun to set as they left the coffee shop and got into an unmarked van designed for undercover work. As they were driving down some narrower country lanes, Jake noticed something out of the rearview mirror. “Uh, Zo’?” She hummed in reply from the driver’s seat, preoccupied with the road. “I think someone’s following us.”

“What should we do?” she asked, turning left. For the second time that day, Jake was interrupted. A bullet shattered one of the back windows.

“Not much!” Jake took the pistol out of the glovebox and began firing back. Zoe stole a glance behind her.

“Look out!” Jake grabbed the steering wheel and pulled. The wheels veered out of control and the van tumbled. It rolled off the road.

The vehicle eventually stopped, lying capsized on the grass. Footsteps approached the door. “Yeah, boss; we got ‘em,” a gravelly voice stated. Jake, barely conscious, never moved a muscle. “Roger,” the voice said again, and footsteps started to recede.

“Zoe,” Jake groaned. He got a quiet mumble in response. His nose alerted him to the imminent danger they were in; the smell of petrol. Trying to move, he winced at the sudden throbbing pain in his head.

And his torso.

And his back.

He took a step to remove his seatbelt, bracing himself as he hit the roof below him. He groaned as his upper back collided with the ground. “Hey, Zo’.” Jake crawled below her and tried to unbuckle her seatbelt with a sense of panic. “Damn,” he cursed. The seatbelt wasn’t going to loosen willingly. He searched for any solution and found a glint in the half opened glovebox by his feet. He had rediscovered his pocket knife.

Quickly, he pulled it open and stuck it in the seatbelt box, jiggling it around; waiting for the click.

After a few painstaking moments, the restraint opened. He ripped it off and Zoe fell onto Jake’s torso, immediately winding him.

“Come on, Zo’; we need to get out of here.” His arm clung to her waist and he wriggled out as fast as he could from the flammable scrap. He was relieved as he inhaled fresh air; flushing out his lungs from the scent of leaking petrol.

Once they were clear of the vehicle, Jake laid Zoe out of sight and began to lightly touch her face. “Wake up, Zo’. We need to leave!” There was a minimal groaning response; but she was still conscious-- with her eyes half open. “That’s good enough for me.” With difficulty, he scooped his partner into his chest, stood up shakily, and tried to walk in a straight direction.

“FREEZE!” He stopped, closing his eyes. His arms were trembling in exhaustion, and his heart begun to palpitate. “Turn around—slowly.” He listened, clutching Zoe tightly.

“Come on, mate,” Jake tried, making earnest eye contact. “You don’t want to do this.” His eyes scanned the gun pointed at the two of them worriedly.

“I don’t think that you’re in the position to tell me what to do.” The same voice, body turning in the shadows, triggered his radio. “Sir, they’re still alive.” A static grumble was all that could be deciphered in Jake’s ringing ears. “Yes, boss.”

The gun began to aim. “Don’t move.”

The safety clicked. “It would be in your best interest to close your eyes.”

Jake waited, watching the trigger, steeling his already hardened glare.

Nothing happened.

Until, in a split second, the gun moved from Jake’s chest to Zoe’s.

“NO!”

BANG!

Bodies were sent flying down the hill Jake had painfully trekked up. They rested at the bottom of the hill; lying still-- breathing stiller. “They’re finished now, boss,” the voice quipped.

There was a sound of car doors slamming and a car engine starting, and it began to drive away.

It was still for a moment…

Until Jake grimaced. One of his arms were trapped under Zoe’s body This time, she was out cold. Jake wiped the grime off of his forehead, before being engulfed in a stabbing pain. He let out a broken cry. Zoe was unharmed; a concussion was assumed, at worst.

But Jake was shot. And he was bleeding out. He choked on his words; the pain kept swallowing them.

What he needed was an ambulance--and fast.

He only had one arm to move his body, and it caused him the most pain he had ever felt.

“Argh,” he groaned. “Z-Zo’.”

He had to find something-- anything-- to call for help. He searched his pockets, but he knew that he wasn't prepared for situations like this.

… But maybe Zoe was.

“Zoe,” Jake attempted to shake her awake. “Please, wake up!”

There was minimal movement.

“Help me out here, love...” He pressed against his side with his hand, whilst his other worked on slipping out from under Zoe’s body. Eventually, he managed to retrieve his trapped limb.

There was no blood on Zoe’s clothing, and Jake reassured himself that she was unharmed-- relatively.

He placed both his hands on his side, focusing on stopping the bleeding as much as possible. A wave of nausea overcame him; the heat from the flaming vehicle caused his stomach to churn almost endlessly as he glanced down. Blood was seeping through his fingers, and Jake’s vision was becoming increasingly blurred; he allowed himself to close his eyes, wanting nothing more than to pass out. He felt his mind begin to cloud over, but there was a certain buzzing in his ears. It was faint, but it was there…

The last thing he heard was his name being called by a half familiar voice.

He only hoped that it wasn’t too late…

------

Beep after beep after beep… his ears would explode any moment now. He tried to inhale through his nose, and quickly had the urge to itch as something constantly prodded inside his nostrils.

Task 1 -- open your eyes.

His eyelids felt content to stay obstructing his vision, yet his instincts said otherwise, and they obstinately broke apart.

It was dark. That was his first observation.

Being in what he assumed was the hospital, the stereotype inclined him to believe that bright white lights would be the first thing he would see. That certainly wasn’t the case. The moon cast through the half open blinds, the entire building held an air of kenopsia.

Jake, still feeling drowsy, decided to wait until the sun rises to make any moves; all he knew was that he was safe, and he could allow himself to let go.

----------

He closed his eyes for a second, and the sun was up, being met with a familiar face.

“Hey,” Zoe smiled, tension relaxing her shoulders.

“Hi,” Jake replied, a smug grin playing on his lips. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? I’m not the one in a hospital bed.”

“Just making sure.”

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

Jake chuckled. “You know me; I’m full of surprises.”

There was a calm silence that clouded over the room. “They said you were lucky, you know. You’ve been out for three days.” Zoe looked over at the IV drip that was taped to his arm.

“The best three days of your life, I bet?” he chuckled.

“No, no; Jake, they were the worst days I think I’ve ever had. Don’t pull a stunt like that ever again -- for both our sakes.”

He couldn’t help but smile. A few rapid knocks on the door interrupted the moment, and Nick came through the door. “Alright?”

“Alright.”

“Not bad.”

He sighed. “You probably have some questions.”

“So many questions…”

“You don’t even know…”

He raised his hand, silencing both voices. “Once you’re both ready, I will answer them. But for now, you’ll rest and recover. I apologise for… all of this.” He turned to leave, but stopped as if he forgot something. Without a word, he pulled out a coin, flipping it in Zoe’s direction, who caught it automatically. He nodded intently, and left. She shared a look with Jake, turning the now recognisable token in her hand. It wasn’t any form of currency, but instead had a certain insignia minted in the centre; a rather obscure looking ‘A’. If it was an ‘A’ at all…

“What do you think it means?” Zoe asked.

Jake shifted, slightly groaning. “I don’t know. But whatever it is, will change everything.”

#assassin's creed #oc #original character #zoe grant #jake riley #ta da #meet my AC babies #feel free to ask about them #ask and you shall recieve #enjoy!#I'll cringe at this tomorrow but I'm too tired to edit it a third time #deal with it for 12 hours pls #thx #i'll fix it

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boldly-ho · 4 years ago

Text

Another Life - Chapter 22

Fandom: What We Do in the Shadows

Pairing: Vladislav x Reader

Series Rating: E

Word Count: 4028 (She’s twice as long as most of my chapters, but that’s a low bar, so who cares?)

Chapter Summary: Vladislav and Reader go on a first date, complete with hiking, fireworks, and stargazing. Sometimes, he’s romantic like that.

A/N: Never hike in the dark. Never run on a hiking trail. Always wear appropriate footwear when hiking. If you break these rules, you will break your ankle, and also you will break your pride. As per usual, this is on AO3.

You stood in front of the mirror, your hair and makeup flawless. At least, as flawless as you were capable of doing by yourself. Still, you’d count that as a win. You turned to face the bed where your clothes were laid out, and let the bathrobe fall to the ground. You’d showered today, despite your bath last night. You’d wanted to shave, though you consciously avoided thinking about why.

On the bed lay your favorite black dress, the one you always wear. You fought back a crisis of nerves while looking at it. He’d seen you wear it a million times, give or take. Maybe you should have gone out and bought a new dress today…? Well, it was too late now, and that dress was your go-to for a reason. On the floor beside the bed were the matching shoes. Laid out next to the dress was a set of matching undergarments. You’d also decided not to think about your rationale behind that, either.

You pulled on the clothes and shoes, but still felt naked. You glanced over to your silver cross necklace, sitting on top of your bedside table. You’d made the decision not to wear it tonight. You wouldn’t needing, and you wouldn’t even be able to take it out in front of Vladislav without affecting him, too. Still, even despite your encounter with the vampire that tried to kill you, you felt incomplete when not wearing it.

You checked yourself out in the mirror, dressed and made up and ready to go. Okay, you looked good. Thankfully.

In your enthusiasm (and anxiety), you’d started getting ready too early. Now, you were prepared to leave, and the sun had set only minutes ago. Vladislav probably wasn’t even awake yet. Swiping your book from its resting place on your bed, you trotted downstairs, resigning yourself to waiting on the couch.

You passed Viago on the stairs, and he gave you a not-so-subtle conspiratorial wink, saying, “You look very nice tonight, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Viago.”

“Deacon and I are helping Vlad get ready. We’ll try not to take too long.” He threw you another cheesy wink and you good-naturedly rolled your eyes.

Your eyes scanned the letters in the book, and your fingers turned the pages, but your brain didn’t absorb any of the words. Instead, you were straining your ears, trying, and failing, to hear anything from your flatmates upstairs.

You were excited. Of course you were excited. But you were nervous. Wary, even. Hadn’t Vladislav just been telling the other guys he wasn’t interested in you? And how interested in him were you, really? What if he wanted something serious? What if he didn’t want something serious? What is it that you, yourself, wanted? You were attracted to him, yes. You’d finally come around to that. But what if-

Calm down, Y/N. It’s just a first date. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Don’t get yourself worked up.

You shut the book as you finally heard voices upstairs, walking down the hall and coming towards you. This was it.

Deacon came down first, well ahead of Viago and Vladislav. He saw you sitting on the couch, made a point of looking you up and down, and said, “The black dress again?”

You felt panic rising within you yet again. “Should I have bought another dress? I almost did!”

Deacon laughed, taking the seat beside you. “No. It’s nice. It makes you look wanton, but not too wanton.”

You gaped at him. “I’m sorry, ‘wanton?’”

Before he could respond, Viago and Vladislav came down the stairs and into the lounge. Vladislav also looked much as he always did, thankfully, and was not wearing one of his ‘going out’ ensembles. He wore his usual dark pants, shirt, and suspenders. As always, his shirt was open much too low and you had to force yourself not to stare.

He looked good.

“Are you ready to go?” Vladislav asked you.

You nodded, picking up your bag, and meeting him at the doorway. “Let’s go.”

He held the door open for you, and shut it behind you both as you headed left down the sidewalk.

“Where are you going?”

You turned around to find him still standing in front of the house, staring at you, a small smirk on his face.

“The bus stop?” You gestured vaguely towards it.

“We’re walking.” He tossed his head to right, up the sidewalk in the opposite direction from the bus stop. “Unless you’d rather take the bus?”

“No!” you quickly assured him, rushing back up the street to join him. “I’d enjoy walking.”

“Good. I figured it’s still early. We have time to get to the harbor before the fireworks start.”

You gave him a small smile as you both started walking, side by side, towards the harbor. You walked in amicable silence, but your heart was beating uncontrollably quickly. What were you supposed to say? You’d never done this before. Every other first date you’d been on had been with someone who was more or less a stranger. Vladislav was your flatmate, your friend.

This was uncharted territory.

“Breathe, Y/N.”

“What?”

“Calm down,” he said. “I can hear your heartbeat racing.”

Oh, god. That didn’t bode well for you, overall.

“Sorry,” you said.

“Don’t apologize. Is that a good racing or a bad racing?”

You decided to respond honestly. “Both?”

“Ah. That’s the second to last thing I wanted to hear,” he teased.

You laughed. You felt your pulse returning to normal.

“What’s the bad racing from, then?”

“It’s not bad, bad. Just nerves, really. I’ve never really done this before.” Catching the look he was throwing you, you quickly amended, “I mean I’ve done this before, obviously, just never with someone I already knew. I feel like none of the first date small talk applies.”

He smiled gently. “Like what?”

“Like the getting to know you questions. What do you do? Where are you from? How many siblings do you have? What’s your favorite color? That sort of stuff.”

He laughed. Loudly. Warmly. The sound made you almost lightheaded. You found that you smiled, in spite of yourself.

“And those are all things you know about me already?” he asked, still grinning. “Not one of those questions apply?”

Your smile fell and a look of puzzlement took its place. You knew Vladislav. You lived with Vladislav. You were friends. You spoke every single night. But, now that he had called you on it, you realized you didn’t know all that much about him.

“Uhh…” you fumbled for your words. “Your favorite color is black?”

He drew one eyebrow up, his mustache twitching with a smile. “Are you sure?”

“Yes?”

He laughed again. You could practically feel the air around you vibrate with it. You could get drunk off that laugh.

“It’s red actually.”

“Red?” you asked, surprised. “Really?”

“Sure. It’s a very intense, passionate color. I like that.”

You supposed that made sense.

“Okay, then, where are you from?”

“Eastern Europe.”

Now it was your turn to laugh. “Yeah, I gathered that. Care to be more specific?”

Vladislav shrugged. “Countries’ borders are constantly being redrawn. Especially in Europe. I moved around a fair bit, too. My parents sold me to a circus troupe when I was a boy.”

You exhaled a small laugh before catching his gaze. Oh. He wasn’t kidding.

“I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

He brushed off your concern. “It’s fine. I don’t remember too much of my human life. It was so long ago. From what I remember of traveling with the troupe, I mostly enjoyed it.”

Still. Wow.

“Why did you decide to come to New Zealand?”

He sighed heavily. “I killed another vampire. That’s a pretty big deal,” he told you. You probably could have guessed that much. “Vampires are usually sentenced to death for killing other vampires.”

A pause.

“Am I allowed to ask why you killed this other vampire?”

“He was a rival vampire. He stole my schtick and all but stole my name, and he purposely benefitted from my reputation. He refused to back down. It was hundreds of years of bullshit until we dueled and I killed him.”

“Your ‘schtick?’”

“You know how I’m Vladislav the Poker?”

“It’s come up, yeah.”

“That’s because I’m known for torturing people. And my thing was poking people with implements.”

“Like stabbing people?” you asked before your brain could really register what he was saying. When your brain did finally catch up, you interrupted yourself, exclaiming, “Wait, torturing people? You torture people?”

“Yes. Well, not so much anymore. I still have the torture chamber, though.”

“You have an entire torture chamber?”

“Yes? In the hallway that leads to Petyr’s room.” He looked at you, bewildered, as if you should have known that no house was complete without a functioning torture chamber.

“In our house! There’s a torture chamber in our house?!” you exclaimed.

“Yes, Y/N. Please, say it louder for everyone to hear.”

“Sorry,” you said at a much lower volume, though you weren’t that sorry.

“I thought you knew that.”

You weren’t sure if he was referring to his international repute as a torturer or the special little man cave he had in your own home devoted to such proclivities, but either way you were shocked.

“I though it was a storage closet,” you admitted.

“Uhh… no.”

“Okay, well, anyway, you killed another vampire and weren’t sentenced to death, yourself…?”

“Yes. Well, he wasn’t well-liked, so I was kicked out of Europe instead of killed. It was for the best, anyway. I was going through some shit with an ex-girlfr-“ he stopped in the middle of the word, probably realizing he shouldn’t be talking about his ex on a first date. You let the moment pass, though, and he awkwardly cleared his throat before continuing. “I had some friends in New Zealand at the time, so I moved down to Wellington and I’ve been here ever since.”

“So this rival vampire, anyone I would’ve heard of?” you teased.

“No,” he said flatly, not matching your teasing tone. This rival must still be a sore spot, all these years later. You made a mental note not to bring it up again. “When I killed Vlad the Impaler, I wiped his name from history.”

You sucked in a surprised gasp upon, obviously, recognizing the name. But you ended up inhaling your own saliva, and breaking into a very unattractive coughing fit. Hacking, gasping, tearing up, the whole nine. Vladislav comfortingly rubbed your back as you recovered.

“Are you alright?” he asked once you’d finally recovered.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Eventually, while wiping any smeared makeup from under your eyes, you said, “I’m okay, thanks. Sorry.” You decided not to clarify that you, and pretty much every other human alive today had at least heard of Vlad the Impaler, while no one had heard of the ‘infamous’ Vlad the Poker. Best to just let him have this one.

As you approached the harbor, you could see plenty of people already sitting on the beach, atop their blankets, towels, and folding chairs, ready to watch the fireworks. You realized neither you nor he had brought anything to sit on. Before you could stress about it, though, he led you past the crowds and up to the ferry.

“I’m sorry, sir, we’re all sold out,” the attendant told him, not even bothering to look up from his phone.

In response, Vladislav reached into his pocket and pulled out two tickets for the next ferry. He’d bought them in advance, you realized with a rush of giddiness. He’d thought out the evening. The two of you boarded the ferry just minutes before it pulled away from the dock, and Vladislav pulled you by the hand to the right side of the boat.

“The fireworks are about to start. We can see them better from this side.”

As if on cue, the first fireworks lit up the sky, and the two of you stayed silent, unable to hear each other speak over the cracks and booms of the explosives. You took a half step closer to him, watching the reflection of the fireworks in the dark water of the harbor. He didn’t move away.

Eventually, when the ferry had moved far enough from the fireworks, so that they could be seen, but weren’t so deafening as to prevent conversation, Vladislav turned around, facing into the boat, and spread his arms out on the railing to lean against it. His left arm crossed in front of your body, and his hand almost touching yours. He was so close that if you took a single step sideways, he’d be fully in front of you.

Looking down at you he asked, “Enjoying the fireworks?”

You looked away from his face and back towards the fireworks bursting over the water, and the receding, twinkling lights of the city as you continued away from the shoreline. “It’s a stunning view.”

“It really is.” You glanced up at him, to find his eyes locked on you, not the lights.

The line was cheesy. It was so cheesy.

It was so cheesy.

Maybe, if you kept telling yourself that, the butterflies in your stomach would stop.

They refused to stop, though, so you smiled and shyly looked down. His left hand was dangerously close to yours. You moved your hand closer, taking your forefinger, and tracing the pattern of the ring on his pinky. You glanced up to make sure your action was okay, not too intimate. He still stared down at you, with that same small smile on his face, so you turned your face back down to your hands and continued your ministrations.

“I like your ring,” you told him.

“Thank you.” His voice was lower, softer. You almost missed the words.

It suddenly felt like so much, too much, and you were relieved when he gently extricated his hand from yours and turned around, leaning over the railing to once again admire the fireworks. As their colored lights illuminated the night sky, you looked around the harbor, and realized where you were going.

“Is this the Matiu Island ferry?”

Vladislav nodded in affirmation.

“I didn’t think the island was open this late.”

“It usually isn’t,” he confirmed. “But they make exceptions for some of the city-wide events.”

“Oh,” you said.

“But the whole island isn’t open. Just the beach. We’re going to have to sneak past the employees.”

If he was joking, he certainly didn’t let on. Still, a vampire on your side couldn’t hurt your ability to sneak, and if he was serious, you were game to try.

The ferry approached the island just as the fireworks were hitting their finale. You, Vladislav, and most of the other passengers on the boat stayed put as they finished, and the last lingering impressions of the show faded from the dark sky. Eventually, everyone streamed off of the boat and onto the beach. Apparently, there were activities set up for the after-hours version of the island.

As everyone walked towards the events, and the employees handing out water and snacks, Vladislav grabbed your hand and pulled you in the opposite direction. You headed towards the trailheads, manned by a single employee, very clearly there to keep visitors on the beach where they belonged. As it turned out, there was very little sneaking required of you, as Vladislav brazenly hypnotized the young man into letting both of you pass.

The two of you disappeared into the bush, following the barely visibly trail in the dark. You probably should feel foolish, traipsing through the bush in your favorite little black dress and matching shoes, neither of which were remotely suitable for hiking. Instead, you felt nearly high. Vladislav still had your hand, pulling you along. It was quiet, conspiratorial. Intimate, almost.

You weren’t sure whether or not it was necessary, but you kept silent until you were certain you were out of earshot of the hypnotized man. When you decided you were probably far enough into the bush, you asked, albeit softly, where you were going.

“There’s a spot I know, at the top of the island. It’s perfect for stargazing.”

You felt goosebumps rise on your arms, though you weren’t sure how much that could be attributed to the chilly night air.

Eventually, Vladislav stopped. In the darkness, you barely avoided running into him before your eyes registered him stopped there in front of you.

“Why’d we stop?” Again, it was whispered. You feared that speaking too loudly would shatter… you didn’t know what exactly, but you definitely didn’t want it shattered.

“We’re venturing off-trail, here. Is that okay? Are your shoes okay for all this walking?”

You smiled at the concern in his voice. “I’ll be fine. Maybe we could slow down a little, though? Since we’re headed off-trail?”

He nodded as he lead you into the thick brush off the trail. Your route steepened significantly, and it felt more like you were climbing than walking for a while. Eventually, though, the hill leveled out, and you cleared the trees and scrub to enter into a small, grassy clearing. It overlooked the beach and the harbor, and you could see the lights of Wellington on the shore. It was gorgeous.

“You alright?” he asked. Out of the dense brush, and in the open, you could finally see him clearly again. “Caught your breath?”

You nodded, despite the fact that, no, you had not yet caught your breath.

“Come sit down,” he told you.

He moved with a supernatural, vampiric speed, and so to your eyes, he more or less appeared laying on the grass, hands folded behind his head. Though stunned for a moment, you quickly recovered, and moved to lay beside him. You slid closer to him, not quite touching, but hardly more than a hair’s breadth away.

The stars above you twinkled beautifully, and more numerous than you often saw in the city. The crescent moon shone brightly, and you took out your phone, zoomed in, and snapped a quick photo. The stars didn’t show up, but the moon looked better than you could have hoped for a phone picture, so you quickly saved the image and tucked the phone away again, returning your gaze to the view above you.

“Gorgeous,” you breathed.

“Very.” This time he was actually looking at the stars.

“Do you come here a lot?”

He nodded. “Yes, actually. I like to come out here to be alone.”

“How do you get out here if the island is usually closed at night?”

“I fly.”

Flying. Right. Of course. Ask a silly question…

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” you told him. You felt honored that he was willing to bring you somewhere special to him. “It’s beautiful here.”

You stared at the stars, following the occasional wandering satellite with your eyes. At one point, a cool breeze blew through, and you shivered. Vladislav sidled up to you, and managed to slide one of his arms under your head. He didn’t produce any body heat, but he did insulate you from the cold air. You leaned into him.

For warmth.

“Better?” His voice was low, calming, warm. You could feel the word exhaled onto your skin.

You hummed in contented affirmation.

“Good.”

“So,” you began, angling your face so that you were looking in his direction. Your noses were almost touching, but you willed yourself not to pull away. It was nice, really. “What made you decide to ask me out?”

“Why?” he asked, so quietly, so closely, a teasing smile forming in his eyes. “Are you not having a nice time?”

You matched his smile and tone. “I’m having a very nice time, actually.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“But, I did hear you telling Viago and Deacon the other day that you definitely weren’t interested in me, so this is a bit of a left turn.”

He sighed. “Ah.”

“Ah,” you echoed, though still smiling. “That obviously wasn’t true, though?”

“Obviously.” You could see his eyes twinkling in the starlight.

After a period of silence, you finally said, “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he began, his face still inches from yours. “I don’t want to get into it, but I haven’t actually dated in while. Not since I went through a bad breakup a few years ago.”

You had gathered that ‘a few years’ really wasn’t that long to a vampire, but still. Was he scared of getting hurt?

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

Each time he spoke, the air he exhaled wafted over you. It smelled sweet, surprisingly. You couldn’t remember ever finding the scent of somebody’s breath so pleasant. You stared into his hazel eyes, glancing briefly down to his lips, which were framed by his facial hair and looking surprisingly soft.

And somehow, suddenly, his lips were on yours.

The first sensation you registered was that of his facial hair, coarse against your skin. Immediately after, your brain latched onto the feeling of his lips moving against yours, just as soft as they looked. And after what felt like forever, but may have been less than a second, you began moving your lips against his.

When he felt your active participation, he grew bolder, kissing you harder, and rolling you onto your back so that his face was above yours. You felt his weight on top of you. Not heavy, but comfortably pinning you to the ground. His hair fell to frame both of your faces, softly brushing against your cheeks.

As he grew bolder, so did you, and you parted your lips to brush your tongue against him, silently asking for entry. He obliged, and your tongue plunged into his mouth, relishing the sharp sensation of his fangs, and exploring the gap between his front teeth. Your exploration didn’t last long, though, before his tongue surged into your own mouth, and one of his hands rose to tangle in your hair, pulling it slightly.

Oh.

He was incredibly good at this. Unbelievably good at this.

You felt a firm pressure between your legs, and moaned into his mouth when you realized he’d brought his knee up to press against you. If you’d bucked once against it, you could hardly be blamed.

Lightheaded.

Woah, you were lightheaded.

You eventually broke away from him, and sucked in the cool night air. Vladislav pulled himself back, sitting up rather than lying back down, and gave you a little room to breathe and collect yourself.

He looked at you with a small smirk, incredibly smug. It made you angry how well-deserved that look truly was.

“What was that for?” you asked him when you’d finally caught your breath.

“You looked like you wanted it.”

You leaned forward to playfully smack his arm. Maybe Deacon was right when he said the dress made you look wanton, but you were willing to venture a guess that the dress had little to do with any wanton vibes you were putting out.

As you moved back towards Vladislav, you noticed a small set of lights moving across the harbor. The ferry! They’d left without you. You pointed this out to Vladislav, though he hardly seemed concerned.

“I figured we’d turn into bats and fly home,” he said stoically. “Does that not work for you?”

You bit back a smile, not wanting to encourage him.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I arranged for them to come back for us.”

“Just the two of us?”

He nodded, and you moved beside him, resting your head on his shoulder, with his arm wrapped around you and his hand settled low on your hip. The two of you stared out at the view in peaceful silence.

“This is nice,” you offered after a while.

“It is. Maybe we could do something like this again? I could take you out for dinner or something?”

Your heart swelled at the mention of a second date.

“Don’t you not eat food?”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t take you out somewhere.”

You smiled. “I’d like that.”

#wwdits #what we do in the shadows #vladislav #vladislav x reader #another life #al fic

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beyondconfessor · 4 years ago

Text

Principle Decisions [17/?]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Zelda Spellman/Lilith

Summary: “You’re my handmaiden,” Lilith reminded, “Now do your job before I need to properly punish you.”

N.B.: Also posted on AO3. This is pure fantasy, please suspend your disbelief.

It was coming up to Yule, and with the coming weekend, Zelda made a trip to the city with her family, as per tradition, and ended up shopping in stores that Greendale could only dream of having. Around midday, the family parted to do their Christmas shopping for each other, and Zelda found herself drifting towards a lingerie store.

She looked at the familiar lace and silks that she usually wore, and then to the more modern lingerie, she found Lilith was fond of wearing before she noticed the store’s, so-called, boutique section.

The store was a familiar favourite of Zelda, one she was well versed in enough to know her size for mail-delivery order to Greendale. But that didn’t stop her from curiously examining the leather and latex lingerie. She wasn’t sure how she would look in it, but with Yule coming, it seemed an opportunity for her to explore a new set of lingerie.

The saleswoman enquired once if she needed any assistance, and then left her alone. It left Zelda in peace to flick through the sheer material, the bodysuits and under bust corsets, looking for something that she felt inspired by.

Or rather, that she felt Lilith would feel inspired by when she saw it.

Her eyes roamed the store, before settling on a particular set she liked the looked of, and then, finally, happy with her choice, she took the items to the front desk, presented her credit card and purchased it with a smug feeling. A part of her wanted to take it home and dress in the lingerie to take a photo for Lilith––she could only imagine the woman’s expression––before she decided that, no, she didn’t want to imagine her face, she wanted to see it.

The choice was packed away discreetly in tissue paper, and then gently placed into a bag for her.

When she met up with the rest of the family for their long-standing tradition of junk food from the food court, she found their eyes curiously looking to her bags as she sat down at a table to discuss their purchases.

“Ooh,” Hilda commented, as she pointed to the lingerie bag, “That looks fancy, purchase anything for anyone in particular?”

“For myself,” Zelda assured.

“Well, you certainly seem happy. I’m just saying if Mary…or anyone else…has anything to do with it.”

“Ms Wardwell?” Sabrina said, her face scrunching up. “You’re not dating Ms Wardwell, are you?”

“I am not,” Zelda assured, though a pang hit her heart at her niece's expression. “Not that it would be any of your business.”

“Well, she’s just…” Sabrina made an expression. “She seems too…local for you,” Sabrina said. “And you can’t date my Principal, it’d be weird.”

Zelda refrained from commenting, masking her expression as she raised an eyebrow and sipped at her drink. It wasn’t a conversation she wanted to divulge further in, and there was no need. She wasn’t dating Lilith, therefore she didn’t need to be concerned with Sabrina’s opinion.

“Well, Auntie,” Ambrose said. “If you were dating anyone, I’m sure they would be either very fortunate or unfortunate to have you in their life, depending on who the person was. I did note that Mr Putnam Senior was quite smitten the last time we spoke.”

At that, Sabrina’s face brightened, “Are you seeing Theo’s dad?”

Zelda sighed, feeling the familiar arguments rise again. But before she could so much as set the story straight, her entire family had taken her silence to mean that she was, and began throwing a hundred questions at her, enquiring about when it’d occurred, how long it’d been going on and when she was likely to see him again.

“Please,” Zelda cut in, her annoyance rising. “Joe and I aren’t–-“ she tried to argue, but felt her voice, unfortunately, cut off midway through. Due to an ill-timed tickle in her throat, she managed to cover up before it became an issue, but the lapse was enough to cement the idea to her family.

She was now, it seemed, secretly dating Joe Putnam. A headache grew and she held back from saying anything further. There were things to do, gifts to finalise before the end of the day, not to mention that only the day prior, Faustus had begged her to help handle a guest speaker that was coming in for the week before Christmas. Apparently an artist named Marie was doing a guest lecturer for the town on Art and Culture for the local private art gallery.

Apparently, the person who was meant to be helping with the organisation had suddenly quit, and Constance was too deeply wound in stress with the twins to help (so she told him)––as such, it fell on her.

The event was to occur three days before Christmas, which was the day after the alleged orgy was to occur, which meant that Zelda felt the time creeping up faster than she liked, between Christmas preparations, university work and Yule, her week was lined up.

Not to mention that she was still playing catch-up with her own work. Lilith seemed to be just as busy, if not more so with the end of the school term. Teachers were calling in sick, children were acting up, and she seemed to be spending her time running between one crisis or another.

It left her little time for them to see each other, and what they did manage to fit it in, usually involved a quick tumble in the sheets, like she was some secret paramour, before one or both of them were rushing off. Or in some cases, it let them calling each other on the phone.

Though since she’d had that photo taken of herself, Zelda had been feeling bolder, and sending other teasing photos (though none with her face cropped in the image), to Lilith, who turn, had shared similar tantalising photos––though the woman seemed to be well versed in her photos. Zelda felt a competition was beginning to build between them and couldn't help but grow more ambitious.

It meant that Zelda kept her phone close to her at all time, and had the setting set that when it was locked, it was only advised that a new message had come through. The last thing she needed was her family seeing what her messages were.

That wasn’t to say her family hadn’t noticed her newfound interest in her phone, commenting that she was certainly texting more than usual.

And now she had her family harassing her about Joe. “No,” she said, “I have not and will not ever wish to discuss my love life. If I were dating someone, should it become serious, I will agree to divulge the circumstances. As it stands, nothing is happening that any of you should be privy towards.”

“So it’s just sex then,” Ambrose said boldly, and Zelda turned her face to him. “It’s not like we haven’t noticed your increasingly high neckline dresses––you seem to be rather fond of them of late.”

“Enough,” she said, without humour. He turned away, sharing a grin with Sabrina, but neither of the children nor Hilda said anything, leaving a well-deserved silence to fall between them.

And with that, her phone buzzed.

Zelda pulled it out, watching as Sabrina’s eyes tried to sneakily catch a look at the screen as well, before realising she couldn’t see anything.

It was a message from Lilith, but it would have to wait until she was in a more private setting.

She set the phone back into her bag and watched as Sabrina’s eyebrows rose, catching onto the fact that Zelda was trying to be discreet.“Are you all set for your trip tomorrow?” She asked Sabrina, hoping to divert her attention.

“I am. I’ve got everything on the list Roz sent, and anything else I’ll sort out when I’m there. No biggie.”

At that Zelda, refrained from making a comment. Her niece was going to snow and she doubted that it was, indeed, a ‘no biggie’, but Sabrina was old enough that she didn’t need her Aunt packing her bags for her. Should Sabrina forget anything, she was certain that Ms Walker or her parents would be more than willing to help fix the situation.

“Well, then perhaps we should head back?” Zelda said, checking her phone. She was meant to meet Faustus in a few hours to meet the guest speaker. “Was there anything else that anyone needed?”

Thankfully, there wasn’t and Zelda was able to have the family return to the car and drive home, giving her enough time to change into a fresh pair of stockings and heels, switching to her woollen coat, given that she was likely to be meeting Marie in one of the main lecture halls, notorious for never having heating.

At the university, she headed to Faustus’ office. Murmuring came from behind it, and for a moment she considered trying to listen in, before deciding that it wasn’t her business. Knocking on the door, she listened as a sudden silence fell before a shuffling occurred. And then the door was opened and Zelda was greeted to… ”Prudence?”

“Professor Spellman,” she greeted, her face tight as she gave a nod, her eyes looking down at the ground. “Faust––err, Professor Blackwood had asked me to help out with the guest lecturer,” she said before she stepped aside and allowed entrance into the room.

There was a strange tension as Zelda stepped in, and Zelda found the familiar concern rise in her as she thought of Constance Blackwood, at home with the twins, uncertain of what her husband was getting up to with his increasingly late nights.

Sweeping her eyes from Prudence to Faustus, she gave a disapproving look before masking it. “Marie’s meant to meet us in the central hall?” she asked.

“Mm, she’s running a bit late, however. Called to advise she’ll only be a few minutes or so, but there’s no reason to rush.”

Zelda nodded. “So what do you need from me?”

“Honestly,” Faustus sighed and settled back. “I need you to handle the event its self. I have a conflicting arrangement and will be otherwise unavailable. I need you and Prudence to speak to the artist and…find out what she needs to run the lecture. Advertising has been done, and as I understand the social media event is expecting a few dozen occupants.”

Zelda wasn’t surprised. She’d looked up the artist’s work and noted that it would definitely appeal to a wide audience range than some of the other artist guest lecturers they’d had in the past.

“Why is she doing it here and not at the gallery?”

“I don’t know,” Faustus admitted. “Numbers, I suspect. Or it’s tied into one of the function’s the university is doing,” he sighed and shook his head before looking up at Zelda. “I’m trusting you to handle this. If you need anything, let me know.”

Zelda’s eyes narrowed, curious as to the unusual sloppiness but nodded her head. “Is there anything else?”

“No, no. Oh, ah, catering. They’re organised but you’ll need to check with them tomorrow, and ensure they’ve got the correct date and time.”

“Send me an email with their details.”

Faustus nodded, and then she watched as he sat at his desk and made a gesture as if to dismiss them. Zelda’s eyebrow quirked, turning and looking at Prudence to see if she thought his behaviour was strange but noted that the young woman was still staring at the ground. Her eyes starring far away as if she was upset or…ashamed.

Anger built in Zelda and she gave a sharp look at Faustus before turning on her heel and exiting the room. If he’d done something, anything to hurt Prudence, she would ensure his career was over.

Heels clicking down the hall, she heard Prudence following her, and then once she was certain they were far enough away, she pulled to a stop, hands on her hips as she stared at Prudence’s crestfallen, distant expression.

“What did he do?”

“What?” Prudence lifted her eyes and stared at her, and a familiar, indignant expression rose on her face as the girl tried to very quickly hide her emotions behind a fragile mask. “He hasn’t done anything. It was a misunderstanding and––“

“Are you sleeping with him?”

Prudence’s face turned to disgust, paling, “No!” she yelped. “No, he’s…it’s not that. It’s a misunderstanding.”

Zelda’s eyes narrowed. She wasn’t sure if she trusted the entirety of the situation, but Prudence’s reaction seemed genuine at least. “Did he try anything?”

“No.” Prudence stood awkwardly, before she turned, “There’s nothing to worry about, and it’s none of your business anyway,” she said, her tone harsh.

“I beg your pardon?”

There, at least, Prudence looked embarrassed. “I just meant that it’s a private matter, Professor Spellman. I assure you that if anything went against the University’s code, i would not be afraid to go to the Dean in regards to it.”

Zelda drew in a breath and then nodded. It wasn’t her mess to deal with. Although she was curious about whatever it was, she at least believed from Prudence’s disgust that it wasn’t an affair, and therefore was not something she was morally obliged to inform Constance of. God forbid. The woman was going to drive herself crazy digging for the answers, but she could provide the comfort of ensuring that it wasn’t the worst thing possible.

“Do you know much about Marie?” Zelda asked, moving the topic as they continued down the halls, towards the central hall.

“I did some research. I know she original in Haiti and has been living in New Orleans for the last few years. Her art is…outstanding,” Prudence advised.

Zelda nodded, agreeing. Marie had won a few awards, been provided with a few artist residencies across the country and was overall, living quite comfortable as a full-time artist. Her last work was raw and powerful, depicting immigration in a turmoil climate, and controversy had arisen as a result against the art museum hosting it, though Zelda suspected that ended up working in their favour.

Her most recent works, however, seemed to be on the study of the human body. Mixed media capturing the body in different dynamic actions––athletes naked as they ran, ballet dancers in the middle of a pirouette, even bodybuilders lifting weights. It was stunning, with great detail spent in the muscles and expressions, making them look as if they may leap out of their frame.

Prudence spoke briefly about the history she learned and advised on the most recent TEDx talk the woman had done about the importance of art in culture.

There was an infatuation in the way Prudence spoke that softened at Zelda. She hadn’t expected the girl to be a patron of the arts, but she supposed people didn’t necessarily expect the same thing of herself, either.

As they stepped into the Hall, Prudence’s previous mood had almost entirely evaporated into her excitement at meeting Marie, and then it softened as she noticed a figure.

At the hall doors, a woman stood, dressed in a vibrant shade of yellow and orange. As she turned on heel to their coming approach, a warm smile was brought to her lips. “Ms Spellman?” she enquired and Zelda noted the accent. “Faustus mentioned that you and a…Prudence, I believe, would be greeting me?” her eyes flicked between them.

“Good evening. Yes, Faustus asked me to take over for him and ensure that you had everything you needed. But you can call me Zelda.”

“Marie,” the woman said, reaching out her hand. When Zelda took it, Marie stepped closer and kissed her on both cheeks before stepping back before Zelda had a chance to respond.

The woman was…quite beautiful, and under different circumstances, she may have even considered attempting to seduce the woman. But they were in a professional setting and Zelda was…still holding her hand.

She let go.

Lilith had enquired if they were open and she still hadn’t come back to respond to that. In fact, she wasn’t sure where she stood with it.

Clearing her throat, Zelda pushed the blush rising to her cheeks and directed Marie into the central hall. She pointed out where key things were––such as the switchboard, where the lights were kept, where the emergency exits were in case of an incident, as well as the projector on the board.

Thankfully, Marie was familiar with the type of system and confirmed she was well aware of setting her computer up to it, but she still took the time to walk around the hall, getting a feel of the seats and the stairs between the rows.

She stood at the very top, in the back corner and then turned. “Can you hear me from here?” Marie asked.

“Quite clearly,” Zelda responded.

Marie nodded and walked down the stairs, smoothing out her dress before she came to stand before them. “Well, the space is lovely,” Marie mentioned. “The only thing I’ll need is time before it starts to set up.”

“Shouldn’t be an issue,” Zelda agreed. “Catering has been organised, and the post-event mixer will be occurring adjacent to this hall so people aren’t thinking about food,” Zelda said, as she pointed through the doors to where the opposing classroom was. “Outside of that, were there any questions?”

“Will you be attending the event?”

“I will,” she confirmed.

Marie smiled, and it was unmistakably flirtatious. Zelda heard her murmur something underneath her breath, but didn’t quite catch what was said. Given that there were little else to do, Zelda provided herself and Prudence’s contact details, should she think of anything, and then politely lead Marie to where her car was parked.

When Marie left, kissing Prudence’s cheek before twice kissing hers again, Zelda found herself thinking over again Lilith’s enquiry to their status. “She was into you,” Prudence advised. “Overtly.”

“I noticed,” Zelda commented.

“She seems your type. You should…go out for coffee.”

Zelda's eyes turned to the girl before she shook her head. “I don’t have time to date.”

“Who said anything about dating? You have her number now. Just give her a text and invite her out for a drink.”

Zelda ignored the comment. For one, her day tomorrow was booked for herself to get ready for the so-called orgy, as well as drop Sabrina off as the Walkers, and for another, she wasn’t sure how she felt about dating anyone at the moment.

Currently, her needs were being met. Marie was fascinating and stunningly beautiful, and if circumstances were different, she may have considered inviting the woman to a have a drink near the accommodation she was staying at. But at this moment, there was nothing else she required, aside from the desire to see the woman naked.

But she wasn’t going to be upset if she didn’t.

The next day, she dropped Sabrina off at the Walkers and then spent the day grooming herself in preparation of the following evening. She enjoyed a nice meal with Ambrose and Hilda, informing them that she would be busy tomorrow and not to expect her home (their shared look did not go unnoticed) and then went to bed humming, thinking of the evening.

Zelda had attended two, so-called orgies in her early years of sexual exploration. One had been an impromptu organisation filled with wine, marijuana and had left her feeling like she’d experienced the height of a bacchanal evening. Whilst the other had been an organised event during her Europe travels.

Neither of them had been bad experiences, and she certainly had enjoyed indulging them, but both had involved copious amounts of alcohol and one drug or another.

Although wine was meant to be present, Lilith had advised her that intoxication was not permitted.

The following day, she dressed in the new, purchased lingerie, and did her hair and make-up before dressing in an outfit she’d chosen the day before––she looked over half a dozen different clothes, moving from dresses to pants to skirt, before finally settling on an outfit she deemed classy, but easy enough to take off.

And then she was pulling on her coat and taking her handbag with her.

“Night, Auntie,” Ambrose called from the front porch with a snicker, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

Zelda threw him a half-hearted glare before climbing into her car. The plan was to drive to Lilith’s, and help her with any last minute prep, before Lilith was to take her to her other apartment in the warehouse district, with where it was being hosted.

Given that Lilith was the hostess, they would need to be there early, allowing Zelda to settle any nerves she may have before it began. She wasn’t entirely sure was an organised orgy looked like when it was done by someone whose experience was as evident as Lilith’s, but Zelda was intrigued, nonetheless.

No, that was underplaying it, she was entirely aroused by it and had been fantasying about it over the last week, whilst also trying to push her feelings down and not have her hope raise too high.

However, when she arrived at Lilith’s house, the woman greeted her fresh out of the shower, in her dressing robe. She wasn’t ready.

“Are you planning on arriving naked?” she asked––because it wasn’t so out of the realm of possibilities.

“Oh no, you’re my handmaiden for the evening. You’re going to dress me.”

Zelda’s brow rose and watched as Lilith’s in turn did the same thing before she laughed, taking her hand and leading her upstairs. Thrill ran through Zelda as she was lead to the bedroom and felt the anticipation of the evening wash over her.

Lilith’s outfit was placed on the bed and Zelda’s eyes drew over it curiously before Lilith smirked at her. “Have to look the part,” she explained, before taking a deep breath and smiling fondly at the clothes. Lilith then removed her towel and stood in the bedroom naked as she picked up her riding crop.

Zelda didn’t need to ask what that was for. She knew very well.

“Here,” Lilith said, handing her a bottle. “This needs to lubricate me with where all of the clothes are going.”

Zelda took the bottle in grip and then looked it over. Setting it aside, she removed her jacket and then took a butterfly clip from Lilith’s dresser, before winding the woman’s hair up, off her neck, before she placed the clip in. “Good girl,” Lilith noted, “Some people remember that step too late.”

“Well, some people aren’t as smart as me.” The riding crop struck, low against her ass and she hissed into it, grinning. She’d expected it and still, the arousal flushed through her. “Doesn’t mean I’m not wrong,” she teased, before uncapping the bottle and pouring the liquid into her hand. She walked around Lilith, watching the woman stand proudly before her.

Zelda glanced to the items of clothes, noting where each one should go.

The question was, where to begin. She went for the arm first, draw from the high bicep and rolling her hands over the skin and down the forearm to the fingers. She massaged the area, rubbing it in and watched as Lilith’s face turned to admiration. “Are you enjoying yourself?” Zelda asked.

“Watching you get me well and truly lubricated for this evening? Oh yes, I enjoy it immensely.”

She went to the other arm next, doing the same. She could feel the muscles in Lilith’s arm, down her forearm, and was painfully reminded how easy those arms could hoist her up onto a surface.

“Are you excited about this evening?” Lilith asked. Her voice was careful, masked the way she often spoke when she was playing as her Queen.

“I am,” she confirmed. “Very excited. Did you want to see for yourself?”

Lilith drew in a breath and then seemed to remember that her hands were lubricated.

Zelda worked down the body, drawing it over Lilith’s neck, down her back, and then over her chest. There, she took time to ensure the breasts were well lubricated, rolling Lilith’s nipples in her fingers and watching as the woman gasped pressing onto her toes. There, Zelda couldn’t help self. She played, rolling the nipples between her fingers before splaying her hands over the breasts and then back.

“Is this right?” Zelda asked, teasing as she focused her attention on pinching them harder.

“Quite,” Lilith agreed and then her eyes fluttered closed before Zelda’s hands moved down, underneath her breast to her ribs and felt as Lilith’s breath drew in and out, her eyes opening to look at Zelda. “Careful,” she said, “We’re running low on time.”

“Can’t have that,” she said, before dropping to her knees and began working her way up. Over the foot, carefully drawing up her ankle, her calves. She was so close to Lilith that she could lean in if she wanted to, draw her mouth too where the sex was and press the flat of her tongue to her––

Smack. She hissed, feeling the crop strike her back. Looking up, she stared at Lilith’s unimpressed look. “Time,” Lilith reminded, though there was a heavy exhale to her breath, “Or I’ll have you carrying my wall clock with you while we’re at the orgy. And then I can fuck you while you have to hold onto the great, big round thing, ensuring you didn’t let it go. Would you like that?”

Zelda scoffed, “No.” Smack. She winced. “No, my Queen.”

“Good girl, back to work then.”

Zelda drew up the other leg and then paused, uncertain. She looked up at Lilith and watched as the woman quirked an eyebrow at her. “Yes?”

“Do I…lubricate all of the areas the items are touching?”

She watched Lilith’s face colour. It was well known to both of them that Zelda had not so much as touched Lilith’s sex––if her first experience was to be placing lubricate there, it was something Zelda found herself entirely teased by.

Lilith’s chest rose and fell, and there was a certain desire there, considering. Whether it was because Zelda was on her knees, looking up as she asked, or if it was because the very idea of Zelda drawing her fingers between her folds was enough to cause a heated desire was debatable. Zelda knew what she hoped for––but whether that was true was another thing entirely.

If it were permitted, it would be gentle, Zelda assured herself. But it wouldn’t be sex. If she was going to have sex with Lilith, she wanted to take her time to ensure they both enjoyed it.

“No,” Lilith said, before smirking, “But you should do my ass at the very least.”

Zelda rose, moving to stand behind her. She was tempted to be entirely naughty and spank Lilith’s bare ass, but knew that would likely end up with her undressed and spread out with Lilith fucking her mercilessly––not a bad thing, but as Lilith kept reminding her, they were time-pressed.

She instead placed the lubricant on, over the ass and trying not to think about how much she wanted to fuck Lilith. Lubricating her, and then dressing her was starting to make her feel like she was punished for something she wasn’t aware of.

She stepped back and admired her work, “Is there an order I should be placing these on in?”

“You’re a clever girl. I’m sure you can work out what needs to go over the top of what.”

Zelda gave her a look before she picked through the items. An underbust corset with a half-dozen buckles on the front. Underwear, stockings, garter belt, gloves––all latex, all stunning.

Zelda touched over the gloves, feeling a reaction awake in her. She couldn't wait to feel those gloves on her.

She yelped as the riding crop smacked over her ass before she turned around and looked to Lilith. Her queen stood tall, face in a familiar unimpressed looked. “Time,” she reminded.

Zelda hummed and chose the underwear first. She went to hand them to Lilith and then felt the crop strike over the back of the hand, hard enough to sting and leave a red mark.

“You’re my handmaiden,” Lilith reminded, “Now do your job before I need to properly punish you.”

Zelda closed her eyes, drinking in that thought as she felt it slip right through her. “Of course, my queen,” she said, and then she was getting on her knees and watching as Lilith slid one leg in, and then the other. Zelda pulled the underwear up, onto the woman’s hips and ensure it sat flush, her eyes looking up at Lilith.

The woman smirked down, fingering the riding crop and Zelda swallowed and looked away. They’d barely done anything and already she was shivering with excitement.

Next was the garter belt. Much easier as it slid around the waist, the ties hanging loosely to connect to the latex stockings. The brassier, which did up at the front, allowing Zelda to carefully ensure the breasts sat correctly. Lilith grinned at her and Zelda stepped back, feeling her body warm.

And then the corset.

“How tight?” she asked.

“Pull until I tell you to stop.”

She sat it in place, doing up the buckles at the front, and then moved to behind Lilith where she tugged at the ties. Lilith didn’t say anything, so she tugged tighter, and then tighter again. “There,” she said, and Zelda tied it off (familiar with how to create a knot that would hold firm but easily be able to be tugged undone later).

And then Lilith was sitting down at her dresser and Zelda was taking the stockings in hand. She slid them slowly up Lilith’s leg, rolling them all the way up her thigh before she connected them to the garter belt, doing the same with the other leg. And then her fingers were running up the leg, smoothing the stocking until they sat neatly.

She looked up at Lilith there, feeling the excitement burn through her. She wanted to touch her, to draw her fingers against the seam of her underwear, but as her hands slid up Lilith’s thigh, to where her skin was void of stockings, she felt Lilith’s hands grab hers. “Not yet, you still have work to do.”

Zelda drew in a deep breath, biting back a comment and rose to her feet, taking the gloves.

It was more difficult than the stockings, but she worked them slowly, rolling them and then the other. Lilith stretched her fingers in them, fixing them before she did the same with her brassier, the corset, the stockings, smoothing creases, and then she pointed to the dresser, where all of the hair and make-up was laid out.

Ah, Zelda realised. She was to do that next.

She took the tools of the trade, doing half of Lilith’s hair first, before clipping it away, as she then moved to doing her make-up, taking time to do the basics before she enquired as to what Lilith actually wanted. Lilith’s mouth parted as Zelda straddled her lap, holding her chin as she drew the lipstick on. And then she was fixing a line with her nail, remembering intimately when the situation had been reversed in the back of Lilith’s car.

Lilith’s eyes looked at her, and then mouth tugged into a smile. “You’re thinking about me fucking you in the back of my car.”

“I am.”

“It’ll ruin my make-up so you’ll have to wait.”

Zelda capped the lipstick, rocking her hips. She felt the seam of her underwer drag as she did it and then Lilith’s eyes were on hers, pupils dilated. “Careful,” Lilith husked. “You’ll give me all sorts of ideas.”

“And just what ideas are you have?” Zelda asked.

“Ones that will make us late.”

Zelda laughed before she reached the dresser and picked up at the make-up spray and held it up. Lilith shut her eyes obediently and with two sprays, Zelda was setting it back, and grabbing the hairspray.

She could feel Lilith’s hand holding her hips steady as if it would stop her from rocking against her lap. But Zelda pretended not to notice, as she sprayed her hair and then pulled out the clips one-by-one, combing her fingers through the hair so it fell in soft, heavy curls around her face.

And then, she rocked over the thigh, purposefully grinding down on it before she was climbing off Lilith lap and standing in appreciation of her work.

Lilith looked good. Really good.

So good that Zelda wanted to get fucked hard by her in front of a mirror.

She watched as Lilith rose to her feet, and then walked over to her wardrobe, pulling out a knee-length trench coat that she did up and then cinched the waist, all the while as Zelda watched, feeling her heartbeat.

All she could think about now was Lilith turning up to her office in nothing but the trench coat. It'd be late at night, and Zelda would be helpless against her seduction attempts once the jacket was undone and removed.

“I have a present for you,” Lilith said. “For tonight.”

“Was I meant to bring something as well?” she asked.

“Oh, don’t worry, this is as much for me as it is for you.”

She watched as Lilith stepped to the dresser, and then opened a drawer, pulling out a wrapped box. It was reasonably sized, but there was a distinct jewellery look about it.

Zelda’s eyes went to it, her fascination increasing. “I was joking about the gold necklace.”

“It’s not a gold necklace,” Lilith assured. “Or a pearl one for that matter.”

Zelda undid the ribbon, pulling open the wrapping paper carefully before she pulled out the velvet box. It was certainly jewellery of some kind, and her interest was only further piqued as she opened up the box.

There, sitting on the cushion, was a collar. It had a gold embellished loop on the front, around a thick, leather choker, though Zelda noticed that it had a soft cushioning on the other side, presumably to prevent it from cutting the skin.

Lilith stepped behind her, pressing against her back. She drew a hand down Zelda’s arm to where her fingers were touching over the collar. “We can place all sorts of attachments here,” she said, her index finger tracing over the loop. “Nipple clamps, a leash, or even attach you to some lovely furniture.”

Zelda hummed in agreement, she was already imaging the clamps attaching to them, and how’d they’d pull if Lilith tugged her by the collar.

“Or I could just tug on the loop so I can remind you of who you belong to.”

“Yours, I presume?”

“Entirely,” Lilith breathed and Zelda felt the shiver run down her spine. Her eyes closed as she felt that thought drift over her wonderfully.

“Do you like it?” Lilith asked, and her breath was warm against her neck. Zelda could feel her wanting to kiss her, ruin her lipstick and leave her mark.

The collar was beautiful. But more importantly, Zelda knew it was a symbol of the connection Lilith was trying to share with her. Of their relationship status––and going by the detail of it, the thought placed into it––Zelda suspected that she was downplaying her intentions in case Zelda rejected it, and by proxy, her.

She turned her face to look at Lilith, “I love it,” she said with genuine adoration, feeling her heart flutter as she drew back down and touched at the material, tracing her fingers over where Lilith had touched. “Will you place it on me?”

Lilith’s shoulders seemed to ease as she took the collar from its box. And then, Zelda watched as in the mirror, Lilith drew her hair back, before placing the collar around her throat, buckling it up at the back.

It was…terrible erotic and Zelda felt her thighs press together, as she looked over the collar.

She touched it, turning her head to admire how it looked in the mirror––there was no mistaking its intent as a kink collar, but it wasn’t so gaudy it was impractical, nor did it resemble a dog collar as she’d seen on the internet.

It was beautiful.

Lilith’s hand ran through her hair, combing the back so it fell over the collar and Zelda swallowed, looking into her eyes as she did it. What she wanted was to ask was for Lilith to fuck her, right there, but she knew she wouldn’t allow either of them to mess up their hair or make-up.

But god, she wanted to fuck her.

Lilith smirked at her. “Just a quickie,” she whispered. “Since you look so magnificent.”

Zelda stood up and then, Lilith was stepping behind her, head on her shoulder as she snaked one hand up Zelda’s body, over her clavicle, the collar and then over her jaw as she took it in grip and tugged Zelda’s chin up high, the latex fingers wrapping around her throat, just above the collar.

Both of them watched in the dresser’s mirror as Lilith then slid her other hand down, under the band of her trousers, down to the lingerie underneath, touching over the material.

“These feel new,” Lilith whispered.

“You’ll have to wait,” Zelda response.

“Will I, now?” and then her fingers were drawing over her sex. “My, my Zelda Spellman, they don’t have a crotch in them,” she noted as her smiled turned wicked. “I can’t wait to see how you look, bent over the first surface I can find.”

Lilith’s fingers were stroking over her firmly and Zelda’s legs were already shaking, but she was held firm in her gloved hands and there was nowhere else Zelda wanted to be.

“I mean it,” Lilith said, “You look magnificent Zelda.”

“As do you,” she responded. “A terrifying goddess.”

“Mm, and what does that make you? My dear little priestess?”

“High Priestess,” she corrected, “I’ll be leading the worship at your altar.”

“Yes, you will. Now, let's see what devotion I can summon from you,” she said before her fingers scissored inside of her, stretching her.

Zelda whimpered at the touch and caught Lilith smirking in the mirror. Her eyes were entirely focused on her face, watching her slowly come undone by her hands.

If Lilith was a terrifying goddess, then Zelda was as her mercy, caught in her grasp. There was nowhere else she wanted to be as she allowed herself to be fucked, watching herself with a fascination as Lilith coaxed her without mercy until her eyes were squeezing shut, and her whimpers had turned to gasps.

“Lilith,” she gasped.

“Try again.”

Zelda whined, and then drew in a breath, meeting the woman’s piercing stare. “My Queen, please––“

“Please…what?”

“Please, may I?”

Lilith laughed, low and soft in her ear, “You may.”

And her speed increased deliciously and Zelda’s body tensed, pressing against Lilith on shaking legs as she came. She opened her eyes, gasping to watch herself jerk in Lilith’s hands, and then her queen was smirking as she drew her hands out of her pants and lifted them to Zelda’s lips.

“Clean-up your mess,” she ordered.

Zelda’s mouth parted, and then three fingers were sliding across her tongue as Zelda sucked on them obscenely, her tongue rolling over them, sucking down on the digits. Lilith’s mouth parted, her brow pressing in a reaction that looked as though she were close to climax herself before her fingers were sliding out.

“Good girl,” she said, though her throat was heavy with arousal as she stepped away.

Zelda drew in a breath, feeling the hit of endorphins wash over her as she looked to the mirror and fixed her make-up.

Behind her, she watched as Lilith cleaned her hand before placing smirking at her, a soft expression on her face that made Zelda chest warm. She was still nervous about tonight, but the anxiety of it eased.

“Do you know what you want to engage in?” Lilith asked.

“I don’t even know what to expect.”

Lilith nodded. “There’ll be group sex, but you don’t have to participate. There’s usually a few impact play sessions running, as well as some spectator events and bondage.”

“Spectator events?”

“Mm, the night usually kicks off with a show. If you like…it can be us. We’ll do a scene together and then, if you’re interested, I can fuck you in front of the spectators. Or, you can have someone else take the place of the submissive if you’d prefer to spectate.”

Zelda’s expression tugged before she understood what Lilith meant, “You need to kick off the event because you’re hosting.”

“I don’t have to, but it is expected. But it doesn’t have to be sex. It can just be a scene that gets everyone interested. Even a good bondage suspension would do it.” She looked at Zelda and then tilted her head. “If you don’t wish to go, you don’t have to. And if you don't wish to be a part of the ceremony, I won't ask it of you. I want you to enjoy yourself, Zelda. That takes precedence over everything else.”

Zelda shook her head. “No,” she said, “Don’t do it with someone else. If you’re going fuck anyone in front of spectators it’s going to me.”

Lilith smiled, looking away as she seemed to hold back a statement.

“What?” Zelda snapped.

“Usually I don’t like jealousy, but green’s a nice colour on you,” Lilith said, and then she smirked at her. “I’ll fuck you if that’s what you want, Zelda. But it’s going to a proper fucking.”

“I expect nothing less.”

“No, I suppose you don’t.”

______________________

#lilith #zelda spellman #zelith #madam spellman #caos fanfic

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themarveledwriter · 5 years ago

Text

First Encounters

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Warnings: Angst. Panic attacks. Blood. Cursing. Bad writing.

Summary: Sebastian runs into a girl and her dog in the park. She panics.

A/N: Sooo, I’m not dead. I also am out of the hospital! I wrote this in the hospital while feeling GREAT on pain meds so who knows if its good... Anyway. I have A LOT more of this story if you are interested, maybe it could become a series. Also if anyone has a better name... I am open to something different.

You were walking through Stuyvesant Park in Manhattan. It was a smaller park with nice walkways you liked to walk with your Golden Retriever, Winter . You had tried to take him on walks in Central Park when you first moved to New York, but it was way too busy for both you and your dog.

See, Winter was missing a front leg, hence the name. You had always been a Marvel fan, reading first edition Captain America comics with your Grandpa, who was a World War II vet.

~Flashback~

You had been looking for a service dog for months, to help with chronic pain as well as your anxiety and depression, but you didn’t want to buy a puppy from a store or a breeder. You had almost given up hope on finding a puppy to train when you decided to visit a shelter a few hours outside of the city.

You asked the girl at the front desk if they had any younger dogs, since you needed to be able to train it, and she led you too a few different cages. The first few were all small breeds, Pomeranian, Terriers, Pugs… And while you would have gladly taken all of them if possible, you had to explain to the worker that you were looking for a larger breed to become a service dog. When you said so, her smile widened before dropping from her face.

“We do have one large breed, he’s a Golden Retriever but I don’t think he’d be that great as a service animal.” The sweet lady said as she walked you out of that room and down a hall. “He’s an amazing pup, he is only seven weeks old and was dropped off a month ago, left in a crate by the front door, we didn’t see him until the next morning… his eyes weren’t even open yet.” She opened a door with a ‘Staff Only’ sign, “We had to separate him from the other dogs, even the small ones. He does great with them, he wants to play and is super friendly, but the other dogs picked on him” She points toward the only occupied cage in the room.

You looked in the cage and instantly fell in love. There was a little puppy cuddled up in a bed way too big for him, sleeping. When you touched the cage doors, his eyes opened and locked with yours.

He had two different colored eyes, one brown and one blue. Once he had fully woken up, he tried to approach the cage doors. That's when you realize why the employee didn’t think he’d be a good service dog, why he had to be separated from the other dogs.

He was missing his front left leg.

It was wrapped in bright red gauze. You looked up at the employee, “What happened to him?” You said, your heart breaking for this little puppy.

She looked sad, obviously expecting you to not want to adopt him, “We aren’t sure. We think he was probably used as a bait dog because his eyes. He’s a purebred goldie, but the eyes would be called an ‘imperfection’. He’s pretty much totally healed though. The stitches came out two days ago, and the only reason it’s wrapped is because he doesn’t really know how to walk on only three legs yet.”

Your heart was shattered, “Can I hold him?” You say, looking over at the lady.

She walks over and unlocks the cage, pulling out the little bundle of fluff whose tail starts wagging the second the door opened up.

Right when she hands him to you he reaches his little head up and licks your cheek. You locked eyes with him, his brown and blue meeting your e/c.

“I’ll take him.”

He was the best dog ever, given the name Winter because of your affinity for Marvel and his lack of a front leg. He quickly learned how to properly run again and became an amazing service dog.

~End of Flashback~

You and Winter went on a walk at least once a week, as per request by your therapist. You tried your best to always do it, even if it was just a lap around the block.

You weren’t paying attention, letting Winter lead you. You knew he wouldn’t lead you off the path.

But you weren’t expecting to get rammed into my a brick wall of a man.

The next thing you knew you were flat on your ass and Winter was licking your cheek, something he often did when you dissociated.

“I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, are you okay?” You could hear a familiar sounding voice above you, but you were still in shock.

Dazedly you reply, “Yeah… Yeah I’m okay” Winter finally stops licking you and instead rubs his face against yours. The feeling of his rough collar rubbing against you snapping you out of it.

“Oh my gosh, I am so so sorry,” You say while quickly standing up, black spots taking over your vision causing you to stumble right into the man you already ran into once.

“I can’t beli-” You cut yourself off as you lock eyes with the person who is now holding you in his arms. “Yo-yourrr… Sebastian Stan. Holy… HOLY SHIT.” You say as you push yourself out of his arms.

When you are an appropriate distance away, you realize what you’d just done.

You could feel your breathing pick up, not quite hyperventilating but quickly getting to that point.

Looking everywhere but his eyes you say, “I am so so sorry. I can’t believe I did that. Winter usually keeps me from hitting people and I didn’t even realize I- I… I can’t breath.” You didn’t feel the panic attack coming until it was too late.

You felt Winter pull out of your grip, running towards the nearest person as he was trained to do when you got like this, it just so happened that the nearest person was Sebastian, the main cause of your panic attack.

You felt hands on your shoulders, leading you forward towards a bench. Once you were sat down you felt Winter pull your medication pack off of your backpack. You had this specially made for him so that he could give the bag to the person you were with, and they could give you the pills.

Sebastian was talking but there was no sound reaching your ears until you hear the pill bottle shake. He held one of your pills in front of you, and you shakily tried to grab it, knocking it on the floor. He got another one out and put it directly in your mouth.

You sat there for what felt like hours, trying to ground yourself. Winter was licking your face and your hands were buried deep in his fur. You weren’t even sure Sebastian was still there until the attack subsided, and you felt his hand rubbing comforting circles on your back.

“I’m- I am so… sorry.” You choke out between gasps for air.

“Shhhh, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s fine. What’s your name?” Sebastian says, his other hand reaching and petting Winter, who was now investigating the person touching his mom since the crisis was averted.

“Y/n, my names Y/n.” You say, looking up at Sebastian and trying to keep your voice steady and breaths calm.

Sebastian smiles at you, now that he can see your face, “Y/n, that’s a really pretty name. I’m Sebastian, but I am guessing you already knew that.” Is he blushing?

You remembered shoving him after recognizing his face, right before you had a panic attack and broke down in front of him… Oh God no.

You gape at him before quickly looking away, trying to speak but not being able to.

“Hey no, no it’s okay. You did nothing wrong, I ran into you!” He quickly says, trying to make you feel more comfortable.

“But I wasn’t watching where I was going,” You whimper.

You were so embarrassed, -What the fuck is wrong with me?- You think, looking towards Winter when tears well up in your eyes.

Sebastian grabs your hand and tugs, forcing you to look at him as a tear makes its way down your face, following the tear tracks from your panic attack “Hey! Nothing is wrong with you!”

Shit you must have said that out loud.

For some reason this made you mad, mad at yourself and your body, but you took it out on him.

You could tell when your facial expression changed to anger, as he looked even more concerned, “Nothing’s wrong? Nothing’s wrong!? I not only just rammed into you, but had a full blown panic attack in front of you because you’re famous! You had to feed me my fucking medicine and comfort me while I am sobbing and snotting all over! Do you know how embarrassed I am!? Why did you even stay?”

He looked at you with a confused face, “What do you take me for? An asshole that leaves a girl in distress just sitting in the middle of the park? Y/n… I would never do that to anyone, especially someone that I caused to have a panic attack.” He looks ashamed and it instantly wipes away your anger.

You both sat in silence for almost ten minutes, the only noise coming from the park around you and Winter, who was still panting from calming you down.

“You didn’t cause my panic attack.” You whisper.

Sebastian looks at you, “What?” You lock eyes with him, “You didn’t cause my panic attack. I have really bad mental… issues, and today has just been a bad day. I thought I could work through it but I knew I shouldn’t come out today.”

“Y/n you shouldn’t have to worry about that. You seem like a sweet girl and I am really sorry you are going through this. But… It seems like you have a pretty good friend to help you out.” He says, pointing towards Winter. “He’s a Golden Retriever right? What’s his name?”

You groan internally, “Ugh, this is so awkward.” You say, giggling a little when you see his confused face. He tilted his head to the side, a lot like a confused puppy. “His name’s Winter… I thought it was the perfect name since he’s missing his left front leg.”

It’s very obvious when Sebastian blushes this time, a bright red flush rushing up his neck. “Wow, so you really are a fan huh.” He says to you, your face quickly matching his, “Come here Winter, can I pet you?”

Winter bounds up to him, excited to have a new friend. Sebastian is petting him when a group of girls with cameras show up.

They started asking him for pictures, saying how much they loved him and making you feel extremely awkward. You knew you still looked a mess from earlier, so while he was talking to his fans, you started walking the other way. Looking back once and locking eyes with him. For some reason you thought he looked sad, but you were probably just being hopeful.

~Sebastian’s POV~

Y/n.

Such a pretty name.

Pretty name to match a pretty face, even with tears streaming down it. He probably would have used a cheesy pick-up line on any other girl.

But not Y/n.

Not the girl that just had a panic attack in his arms. Not the girl who cursed at him and yelled despite knowing who he was. Not the girl that named her service dog after his character.

He loved his fans, he really did, but right now they were getting on his nerves. He just wanted to talk to Y/n… To this girl he just met but was already so enamored by.

He took pictures with the girls, trying to keep his eye on Y/n’s back as she walked away. Locking eyes with her once more before she turned a corner and was blocked by the trees.

The girls surrounding him were talking, but he wasn’t really listening.

Eventually he couldn’t take it, he didn’t want to lose her.

“I’m sorry, I really need to go. It was great to meet you!” He says to the girls surrounding him while starting to back away.

While most of his fans were understanding, there was always one that thought they were entitled to more.

The majority of the group said their goodbyes, but one girl rolled her eyes. “Why? So you can follow that girl who was crying? What, is she your girlfriend?” She stepped closer to Sebastian, grinning. “You could just stay with me, I’m sure I am a lot more fun.”

He stepped away and turned around, “It doesn’t matter what I am doing or if I am following her or not. I need to go, enjoy your picture!”

As he ran after Y/n he heard the girl behind him make an irritated noise, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to catch up to Y/n.

Good thing he was in running gear.

~Y/n’s POV~

You were walking along the path, not really paying attention even though that is what got her into this mess. You just wanted to get to your car and go home.

You were almost to your car when someone grabbed your shoulder.

You may have screamed, but you definitely turned and punched the person who grabbed you square in the nose.

“Holy shit! What the fuck Y/n?” A familiar voice says, muffled through his hands that are covering his now bleeding nose and mouth.

Shit, it was Sebastian. Why the fuck did he grab you?

You ran forward and put your hand under his chin, gently tipping his face up towards yours.

“I am so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention and you startled me!” You weren’t sure what to do, there was blood going everywhere. Winter was trying to jump up on Sebastian, sensing his pain.

Sebastian looks up, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have grabbed you. I just didn’t want you to get away from me.” You were confused, “Why? I was just heading home… I live really close to here, do you wanna come? I can clean you up and I probably have clothes there that would fit you… I kinda ruined your shirt.”

Sebastian looked up at you, “You sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Say no.

Say you changed your mind.

You give the man in front of you a small smile, “Yeah, definitely!”

Wait… What? What the fuck did you just do?

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x anxious reader #sebastian stan angst #marvel #marvel angst #angst #Bucky Barnes #Bucky angst #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagines

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stillwinterair · 4 years ago

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I have so much creative energy that, like clockwork, manifests in me almost every single day at around midnight, give or take an hour or two to either end (I also get it in the afternoon between like 2 and 4 but it's not as strong and not nearly as consistent). It's when I have my best ideas and can generally work the most effectively; I can very easily sit down and hyper-focus on a project.

Unfortunately, work really prevented me from taking advantage of that because I was usually asleep then. Quarantine was going to be the perfect opportunity to actually... create! To actually do the things I wanted to do in life, to write and outline and work on creative projects and run ttrpgs!

Except... my cat. My cat also, like clockwork, has a mode she enters every night at midnight, give or take an hour or two in either direction. It is her "scream and cry and demand attention, but only play a little bit, mostly I just want to sit in the same room as a person, but it HAS to be a particular room, and you HAVE to look at least vaguely in my direction the whole time, and at least one of your hands HAS to be empty or I will know you're not paying attention to me, and we occasionally have to get up and walk to another room for a few minutes, and then we can go back, and you HAVE to be touching me, except now you CANNOT be touching me, except now you HAVE to be touching me, and if you don't do all of these things then I will go so far out of my way to cause a ruckus and make as much noise as possible and wake up Ash who has to go to bed early because she has work early every morning" mode and it has prevented my creative juices from being able to flow almost every single night for the last year.

I do get a lot of reading done during the several hours per night where I tend to just... wander around the apartment at Lilith's whim. Usually it's not a problem for her, we just sorta walk around and I give her some fuss until she doesn't want fuss anymore but DEFINITELY still wants someone near her (but it HAS to be in the room that she wants it to be in, which is usually Ash's office).

But when I'm not using up that creative energy, it builds. And I have so much trouble using it at other points in the day. If I start trying to write at 1 in the afternoon, I can't do it. It doesn't work. But when the feeling hits, when I get in the zone? It's pouring out of me. I have so much creativity to spend, and for every night I don't have a chance to indulge, the night after is only more intense.

Sometimes I get around it a little bit by opening a Google doc or a note file from my phone, but it's just definitively not even close to the same. All I can do is write down my ideas in a bulleted list, but the act of trying to actually write from my phone is just a recipe for frustration. I've tried to being my laptop with me from room to room, but Lilith seems to hate that (she doesn't even like it when I'm reading a particularly large book, but seems okay when I have a paperback I can read in one hand).

So this leads to nights like tonight, where my creative energy is boiling over, and I need to spend it so I won't go crazy, but then I'm working on a project in 30-60-second chunks broken up by several minutes of fussing over Lilith because as soon as I leave her alone she finds something loud to slam on until it wakes Ash up.

I can't put her in any kind of baby jail like you usually can for cats because she is SO loud and SO stubborn that it basically negates the entire point of using one. She absolutely refuses to rest in the living room, which is where most of my stuff is that I use for creative projects, and she goes on and on for hours

Anyway. I love her very much. She has just been making it so incredibly difficult to make any progress on literally anything that I want to be doing lately. It's incredibly frustrating and has become so much worse since moving to this apartment and I don't know what to do about it. It's making me feel terrible because I've been in quarantine for over a year now and have accomplished nothing, and not even for lack of trying, but because the time of the day when I am the most able to produce content and absorb information, I just can't.

And I kept trying to start running new ttrpg campaigns over the course of the pandemic and I feel like I keep letting people down but I do so much of my work on them during this creative window of mine every night, so I keep getting halfway ready to run things and then I can't put any more work in because my cat is completely absorbing 100% of my creative time. I feel like I keep wasting my friends' time in addition to my own and it makes me feel guilty -- and then I feel even MORE guilty, because of how much of this I'm blaming on a cat!

I feel like I'm going crazy! I feel like I'm having an existential crises crisis every single night for 4-5 hours! Some nights Lilith is content and goes to bed early only to wake up at 4 and lasts until the sun comes up and then I just don't sleep. Some nights I prepare, put aside everything and do something idly that can be put down easily, and those are the nights she sleeps peacefully, every time!

I just. This was a non-issue for so long, because I'm so used to cats having weird quirks like this, and hers is generally easy to take care of: it's late, and she wants someone to sit with and very occasionally play with; I can do that, easy. I didn't have much time for creativity when I was working, anyway.

But a year into quarantine, and looking at all the projects I started, and have gotten so much farther in than I ever would have been able to before -- all the lore documents and scripts and outlines and fanfictions and novels and RPG rulebooks and design documents. All of these things paled in comparison to the whims of my cat.

It's so very silly when I actually lay it out like this. Like, this is genuinely something that has been a huge source of depression and anxiety and self-consciousness for months. And then I write it all out and I'm like... Really? A cat?

But, man, I really don't know what to do. I don't know how to train her not to lose her mind precisely when I need space to concentrate at my desk, without creating a situation that would be actively worse for my partner, AND for our neighbors, because boy, if I did the thing you're technically "supposed" to do with cats (ignore them and let them work through their complaints and realize they're okay on their own, potentially lock them in a room with food and water and a litter box until they calm down), she would wake up the entire fucking neighborhood.

I don't know, this whole problem is dumb but it's literally consuming my life. I just need this very particular atmosphere at a certain time of day in order to be creative, and it's been within arm's reach for a year now, but it's been unachievable because my cat is an unstoppable destructive force

I really do not know how to write any of this out without sounding completely insane but I am losing so much sleep and getting so much anxiety over it aaaauuugghhhh this is unfortunately what we get for naming our cat after a demon

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imagineromanreigns · 5 years ago

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Starbucks

"I know, I know! I'm late. As per usual. Please hold." I use the virtual wallet on my phone to pay for my coffee and toffee coffee cake, and continue working my way down the bar. "I'm literally around the corner. Don't kill me. See you in five."

If it wasn't for my best friend having an existential crisis, I would be in bed in pajamas, sipping on some moscato. Ideally. That's what days off are for. Right?Instead, I'm halfway through my coffee cake and mentally cursing her out because it's pouring out, I'm not wearing the appropriate footwear, oh, and did I mention.. it's my day off. "Jo!" The barista shouts over the bar. I happily grab my caramel latte, as it will give me the boost I need to get through whatever today's ordeal is. Exiting Starbucks, I dodge as much rain as possible underneath the green awning trying to hail a cab. Because I am definitely not right around the corner. Or five minutes away.

The first sip of my latte... is definitely not my latte.

"What in the world?" My tongue would jump out my mouth if it could. What is this monstrosity?

I look at the side of the cup where all little boxes have been checked off or have some abbreviation I don't understand.

Now I'm really really, really late.

I spin back towards the door, only for the door to swing out my way, sending the coffee cup flying out of my hand. I know better than to try and catch it. So I let it fall, like my mouth falls, when I see the beef-cake of a man who's brown eyes grow wide when my cup lands between our feet.

He was already taking a sip of his own drink, and it causes him to make a face. "Shit.. I'm incredibly sorry, miss.." his voice is deep, but it trails off at the end. Call me weak in the knees. Because wow. Wow. I don't respond because I know that nothing intelligible is going to come out right now.

"I shouldn't text and drink," he says, softly laughing, by way of explanation. I can hear it rumble through his chest. Then he looks down at our feet and makes another face. "Shit. I didn't mean to ruin your shoes."

"It's not a big deal." I bend over and pick up the cup, taking the time to admire this thick, delicious man before me. How you make a straight up black nike sweat suit look just as good as you? I will never know. "They've survived worse."

"And now I feel like an even bigger dick." But he's smiling. "I stole your coffee." Taking a glance at his held out cup, it says Jo. I look down at mine, somehow I missed it the first time, it says Joe.

"Ahh. That makes a lot more sense now."

Mr. Delicious holds his hand out to me. "Joe. Although, you stole mine. Technically. You actually made it out of the cafe."

“Jo.” I take his hand in mine, shaking all over. "And you spilled it all over the place. So really, who's the bad guy here?"

Joe laughs, showing off that boyish grin. Wow, again. "How about I get us both some new drinks?"

I'm not normally one to agree and go off with a stranger, but this man could lead me anywhere and I'll follow. "Deal. If only to show you how shit your taste in coffee is."

He laughs again, throwing his head back. "Me?! You have a killer sweet tooth."

I wink at him.

Me.

Who am I right now?!

Our drinks are ordered and brought out to us in quick succession due to the previous confusion, and we're back under the green awning hiding from the downpour still taking place. Me with more coffee cake, via Dreamy Joe.

"Since we met under wretched circumstances," Joe starts, chuckling under a heady gaze, "I was wondering if you'd be interested in meeting me, for real this time.. Would you like to have dinner with me? And my shit taste in coffee."

I tilt my head as if I'm weighing the option. But who am I kidding? "I'd love to."

Those big brown eyes already have me.

And everything else.

#imagine roman reigns #roman reigns #wwe fanfiction #one shot #Leati Joseph Anoa'i #Joe Anoa'i

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creativenostalgiastuff · 5 years ago

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Locked

Summary: Roman wouldn’t say he gets along well with Virgil. But after they get locked in the choir room together, maybe they understand each other a little bit better now. (Part of my Prinxiety Human AU: a prequel to Butterflies and Last Words)

Pairings: pre-prinxiety

Warning: anxiety, homophobia, internalized homophobia, locked in closed area, anger

Word Count 3491

Author’s Note: So in Last Words, I hinted at a situation for the two of them that I wanted to write but didn’t. So here is that incident.

Roman stands in the recently deserted boys locker room, his foot up on the bench as he finishes tying his athletic shoes. It had been a long day and finally Roman was in fifth period: gym. Roman enjoyed having a more active class in the middle of his school day. It gave him the chance to break out of the funk of intense focus from his other classes. His mind could wander in gym and no one would care.

“Prince,” the coach barks as he comes around the corner. “Email just came through that members of this spring’s show…”

“Cinderella.”

“Right,” the coach sighs. “They want the cast to pick up their liber-tose from the choir room now. I assume you’re involved again.”

Roman nods with a smile, ignoring the mispronunciation from the coach, “You got it! I’ll be back in a sec.” Roman jogs out of the locker room, past the coach. Coach always meant well when it came to supporting the artsy kids, even if he didn’t know what a libretto was.

When he gets to the end of the arts hallway, he sees a distinct purple and black hoodie exit a classroom about halfway down. Roman smiles and speeds up to catch up to the emo, glad to not walk alone, even if it was with one of his not-so-favorite people.

“Hey Virge,” Roman greets as he slows, passing the boy. He continues his jog as he keeps pace, “Going to get the techie libretto?”

Virgil responds by shoving his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and looking at the ground, “Yeah, something like that.”

Roman sighs inwardly as he forces a cordial tone into his voice, “I heard you got the title of prop master this show. Congrats! That’s such a huge role on the dark side of the curtain!”

“Thanks.”

Roman rolls his eyes as he continues down the hallway with the emo. While he would not consider himself and Virgil friends, Roman was trying to make an effort to be friendlier to the teen. Not that it seemed to be making any difference. But Logan had insisted that he at least “play nice” with him for the sake of their own friendship.

“I’m not saying you have to be best friends,” Logan had explained in the library over his book. “But he’s a theater kid and a friend of Patton’s. So you have to tolerate one another. For the sake of my sanity at least.”

Roman perks up as they round the corner at the end of the hall where the choir room was. A group of student exit the door, flipping through their scripts and excitedly talking about their roles.

“Hey, Roman,” one of them calls excitedly. “Great job at auditions, per usual! Congrats!”

“Can we talk about the irony that Roman PRINCE got, ya know, the role of the Prince?” another one asks with a good natured laugh as the group passes, a freshman.

“Yeah, but he always gets the lead. He’s just that good.”

Roman can’t help but smile at all of the complements and gives a dramatic, low bow as he reaches for the door, holding it open for the last of the group, “As always, it will be my honor to play whatever role the director deems fit.”

“If you’re done sucking up to the rest of the cast, some of us need to get back to class,” Virgil mutters as he slips by Roman’s deep bow. Roman drops his head and the smile, tiring instantly at Virgil’s sour attitude. He fixes the door stop to hold the door open, finding himself once again cursing the stage hand that broke it last show. They hit it with a set piece, making it so that the door would randomly get stuck shut.

“Roman, get your butt in here,” a female voice calls from inside the room. “I have a class and I can’t keep waiting on your ass.”

Roman stands, fluffing his hair back into place with his hands as he enters the mostly dark choir room. “Alana,” he greets the young woman. “I assume, Ms. President of the drama club, that you are our lovely Cinderella?”

A few students walk out carrying boxes of costumes, most likely from the fibers class where they often worked to repair broken costumes.

The young woman that spoke earlier, Alana, nods before hopping off of the desk she had been sitting on, “And I assume you know where the books are kept Mr. Prince.” Virgil slinks along the shadows to the box for the librettos, muttering thanks to the last of the students that were taking the costumes.

“I assume we will have yet another on-stage kiss,” Roman says as he walks to join Virgil. “For two not straight actors, we must do well or they wouldn’t keep putting us in leads opposite each other.”

Alana rolls her eyes as she passes Roman, bumping his shoulder as she sauntered past, “Hurry up and get your things before I lock you in there.”

“Oh hush, Alana,” he says as he turns to watch her head towards the door. “We’re working on it.”

“Looks like Virge is working on it,” Alana shoots back. “You’re just trying to make me late to Calc.”

Virgil grips the sides of the cardboard box on the table and says, “There’s no more in the box.”

“Not to fret, my Emo pet,” responds Roman as he crosses the front of the room. “Ms. Martin normally keeps a few extra on her desk.”

Alana’s sing-song voice comes from the door, “I said I was going. Bye, boys. Have fun.”

Virgil’s eyes shoot to the door, as it shut behind Alana, “...Should we be worried?”

“Nah. It locks from the inside. She’s just being dramatic. There’s a reason why she’s been the lead for all 4 years of her high school career,” Roman waves a hand dismissively as his eyes scan the desk for the books. “Ah, here we are.”

Roman hands a book to Virgil before picking up his own book. Virgil takes the book and holds it protectively to his chest, “You sure we can take these?”

“Obviously. I am the male lead, after all. We take what we need. ” Roman’s eyes scanned the cover of the book and smiled as his fingers glossed over the title. “Hello there, Cinderella. We’re going to get to know each other quite well over the next few weeks, aren’t we?”

Virgil snorts. Roman glares at the new props master. How could Virgil be in theater and not understand how important and intimate a libretto was? The script, the music, the directions: everything he needed to become on stage could be found in the pages of this book.

“Dude, we gotta get to class,” Virgil finally says as he walks towards the door.

Roman lets out a frustrated sigh, “Fine.”

Virgil reaches for the door handle and turns it. There’s a small click before a thunk. “Uh… Roman?”

“What?”

Virgil looks pointedly at Roman and turns the handle. The handle turns all the way around a few times.

“Let me see it,” Roman mutters as he pushes Virgil out of the way. He turns the handle and, sure enough, it spins uselessly in place. Roman pulls on the door and nothing happens. He pushes it. Still nothing. “Uh-oh.”

“What?”

Roman runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back, and closes his eyes, “Remember how the door was a mess after Todd ran into it with the old prop couch? And they told us that they needed us to raise the funds to replace it? Because it was just a matter of time before the latch in the handle broke completely?”

“Don’t tell me.”

“Yeah, it broke,” Roman answers, opening his eyes. “We can turn it all we want, but it just spins, not engaging the tumbler or something. I don’t know locks.”

Virgil’s eyes widen and his grip on the book tightens, “You’re lying.”

“Why would I make that up?” Roman asks, throwing his hands in the air.

“No, no, no,” Virgil cries as he backs away from the door. “We can’t be locked in here.”

“Well, apparently we can,” Roman answers, his voice getting harsher. Getting upset wasn’t going to help anything, so Virgil’s freaking out was so not helpful.

“What are we going to do?”

Roman pulls out his phone. No bars. He looks around the room, “Do you have a phone? My service is spotty in here.”

Virgil’s hands run over his pockets until he locates what he is looking for, “Yeah.”

“Call the office and tell them what happened,” Roman instructs. “Or give it to me to handle.”

“No, I got it,” Virgil says as he opens up the phone, presses a few things on the screen, and holds it up to his ear. “Hi, I’m a student here. Yeah, I just got locked in the choir room?”

“Tell them it spins, but nothing happens,” Roman says as he walks over to an empty seat. No need to stay standing when sitting would do just fine for now.

Virgil waves a hand at Roman to quiet down, “Yeah it just spins… okay… yeah. Thanks.”

Virgil puts the phone back in his pocket and starts pacing the room. Roman watches him for a moment, tapping his fingers on the bookshelf next to him. He checks his phone and finds a single bar. Not enough to do anything but send a text. He decides to send a text to Logan and Patton in their group chat of the three of them:

Locked in choir room with Virgil. Pray for me.

“So?” Roman finally asks as he puts the phone back in his pocket.

“Sending a janitor.”

Roman nods, “Okay, cool.” He continues to watch Virgil pace back and forth. The teen has his hands buried so deep in the pockets of his hoodie that it's a miracle to Roman that he hasn’t punched holes through it. Roman starts formulating in his head reasons why Virgil drives him crazy: one, he is useless in a crisis. Two, he acts like he is better than Roman for some reason. Three, change that. He acts like he is better than everyone. Four, he seems like he is always in a bad mood just to be in a bad mood. Five, Logan and Patton treated Virgil like he was a delicate flower that needed protection.

There’s a knock at the door, pulling Roman from his thoughts. A janitor, Ralph, stands on the other side waving at Roman, “I heard some kids were stuck in the choir room.”

Roman looks at Virgil, who stops pacing and looks like a deer caught in headlights: see complaint one. Roman shakes his head and walks towards the door, “You heard right, Ralph. Any chance you can get me and my associate outta here?”

Ralph looks at the door and messes with the knob for a moment before pulling out his phone, “Well, boys, it looks like I’ll have to call downtown to get the locksmith out. Just hang tight. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

“Thanks,” Roman answers with a friendly smile of appreciation.

Virgil starts pacing again, “This is bad. This is so bad.”

Roman sits back in the chair he previously occupied, and leans his head against the wall, lamenting, “I’m going to miss gym.”

“And I’m going to miss my art history exam!” Virgil snaps, causing Roman to sit up straighter. “Not all of us get to take easy classes like gym every semester!”

“Uh, it's a required class for graduation,” Roman retorts. “Didn’t get to take it freshman year because of choir.”

Virgil mutters, “You’ve always had it easy.”

“Whoa,” interjects Roman, frustrated at the sudden attack. “Easy? You think being me is easy?”

“Yes. I do,” Virgil answers through gritted teeth. “You stand here, every day, wearing the latest designs, the most on trend makeup,” he continues, including air quotes around the “on trend”.

Roman can feel his face heat up at the accusations, “Dude, I’m not wearing makeup!”

“I mean outside of school,” shoots Virgil back. Roman raises a hand to his chest. The back of his mind reminds him that he has never hung out with Virgil outside of school. They only hang out in school because their friends kinda make it happen. How does Virgil know what Roman does outside of school?

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Virgil continues, speaking rapidly. “ You have the clearest skin of any teen. Like seriously. Who did you have to kill to get to skip the awkward acne stage?”

“I mean,” starts Roman. “I just…”

“Probably just spent a ton on skincare products,” Virgil growls, pulling his hood up. “At least your parents can afford it.”

Roman feels his throat tighten as the emo continues the verbal attack, “Virgil, please stop.”

“Oh, did I strike a nerve?” Virgil rounds on Roman, walking towards him. “What, your parents ignore you just like every other wealthy jock at this school? Your parents are too hard on you to be perfect?” Virgil asks mockingly.

Roman stands up, putting himself mere inches from the attacking teen. He adds another thing to his list from earlier, six: Virgil likes to seem threatening. He was vicious when given the opportunity. Roman clenches his fist at his side. As much as he wants to throw a punch, he knows that Logan and Patton would never forgive him for throwing the first punch. “I said quit it.”

“Well perfection is a luxury, Princey,” Virgil grits, staring at Roman for a moment before turning his back to walk away with a dismissive wave. “One that you can apparently afford.”

Roman’s eyes sting. He closes them for a moment as he lashes out, “What is your problem?”

Roman hears a pause in Virgil’s footsteps. He continues, a fire inside of him being too much to contain at this point. “No, I mean it. What gives you the right to belittle what I’ve been through?”

“What have you been through? Really?” Virgil asks, his words dripping with venom.

“You think things are perfect? That my parents give me everything? You think my parents accepted me right away?”

“Accepted you?”

Roman can’t help the laughter that bubbles up in his chest, “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m about as straight as a roundabout. You think that was their vision when they finally had the son they kept trying for?”

“Finally?” Virgil chirps the question back, frustrating Roman with the one word repeated as a question.

“Youngest of five,” Roman answers, opening his arms wide, as if presenting himself. “I have four sisters. My parents kept going until they had their son. Unfortunately for them, they got stuck with me.”

Roman stands there for a moment, waiting for a response.

“I didn’t know,” admits Virgil, quiet now.

“And in case it matters,” Roman continues, fueled by his anger. “I raid their makeup, my sisters’. Regina is normally down for it as long as I pay her twenty bucks or do her English homework for her.”

“Oh.”

“So yeah,” Roman runs a hand over his now wet cheek before sitting back down in the chair. “My parents were thrilled when they had their son. Finally dad could do sports and fishing with his boy or whatever. Instead they got me; ballet and theater instead of football and fishing.”

Virgil sits on the floor, pulling his legs up to his chest and holding them, his back still towards Roman, “But you’re out. That’s gotta count for something.”

Roman sighs, his mind going back to the days in the past full of yelling between him and his father, his sisters not talking to him, arguing with grandparents. Eventually his dad and sisters came around, but it took a while. “I lost some people, gained some others. It wasn’t easy. Still isn’t sometimes.

“I see.”

“Yeah. You’re never done coming out.”

“But was it worth it?” asks the quiet voice, muffled by Virgil’s knees.

That makes Roman pause for a moment, an alarm dinging in the back of his mind. He looks closer at Virgil, noticing just how tense he was in his little ball in the middle of the room. “Of course,” he answers softly. “It's always worth being yourself.”

“I could never do it.”

Roman feels his phone buzz in his pocket.

Logan: watch for an anxiety response.

Patton: he doesn’t do well with being trapped. Just be gentle.

Logan: If he lashes out, it probably isn’t actually what he says it is. Just talk about something besides the situation.

The light bulb goes off in Roman’s head: he was watching Virgil’s anxiety responses. Of course. Roman doesn’t know too much about anxiety, but he has dealt with his fair share of performance based anxiety. It was why he got cranky right before a show. All he needed was distractions.

Roman turns his attention back to Virgil as he puts the phone in his pocket. He gets up and walks over to Virgil, sitting on the floor next to Virgil. “Coming out is something everyone can do if they decide that it's something they want to do.”

“How so?”

“Well,” Roman starts, pulling one knee towards him and laying his arm on it, leaving the other stretched out in front of him. “In my experience the hardest person to come out to is yourself. After that it gets easier.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, as you probably figured out, my family started off… not so thrilled with my ‘choice’, as they said. That meant that I had a lot of internalized homophobia I had to work through. Then it's all about finding your labels. And then you… just talk to people. You learn when it's safe and when its not. Fellow lgbt, friends, family. You stop hiding so much. You just kinda...are.”

There’s a beat of silence before Virgil whispers, “I am.”

“You are what?” Roman asks, focusing on Virgil.

“Gay?” answers Virgil with a small laugh. “Or at least, not straight.”

“Oh,” Roman says. Inwardly he wants to smack himself in the face. It would explain a lot about the techy. All of the pent up anger at Roman made sense: Virgil might’ve been jealous that the other teen was so out of the closet compared to him.

“I just… I’ve never told anyone,” admits Virgil.

Roman wants to face palm himself so bad. This… walking nightmare just came out for the first time and all Roman had to say was “oh”. Great. Way to make him feel safe and included.

Roman glances over at Virgil and smiles, “Well, I’m honored to be the first.” He stretches out his hand, “Allow me to welcome you to the club. Cabaret night is on Tuesdays and you’ll receive your flag in the mail... once you purchase one.”

Virgil rolls his eyes, but Roman notices the smile pulling at the corner of his lips, “Is everyone in the club as dramatic as you?”

Roman laughs at that until Virgil even lets out a chuckle, “You know, dramatic would be a stereotype.”

“One that you fit,” retorts Virgil.

“That’s not the point and you know it, Emo Knightmare,” Roman answers as he stands up and offers a hand to Virgil. “But seriously, doesn’t it feel good to be honest for once?”

Virgil allows himself to get pulled to his feet, “Yeah, it kinda does.”

“Can I give you a hug?” Roman asks, remembering Patton saying something in the past about Virgil needing warning before any sign of affection.

“Yeah,” Virgil says as Roman pulls him in for a quick hug. “Just… do me a favor...please don’t tell anyone?”

“I would never out you, Virge,” Roman swears, keeping Virgil in the embrace.

“Thanks, Princey.”

Roman pulls away from Virgil and looks him in the eyes, a smile on his lips. This whole thing had been such a weird experience, but whatever had just happened, Roman knows it is the start of a better relationship for the two of them. They understand each other now.

“Oh, one more thing,” Virgil adds.

“What is it?”

“Don’t fall in love with me, okay?” asks the teen with a small smile Roman can’t quite place.

Roman swallows before giving a wink he hopes comes across as playful,“I’ll do my best.”

The janitor comes back with the locksmith and knocks on the door, “All right boys. Give us a minute and we’ll have you out in time for your next period.”

“You’re the best,” Roman calls back before the sound of a saw starts up to cut them out.

Virgil laughs next to Roman as he pulls his hood down, “You know, most people come out of the closet. I’m coming out of the choir room.”

“I see why Patton chooses to hang out with you,” Roman laughs at the pun. Maybe they could be friends after all.

#sanders sides fanfic #prinxiety #pre prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #high school au #homophobia #internalized homophobia #locked in room #locked #anxiety #fanfiction #fanfic #sanders sides fic

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crackimagines · 5 years ago

Text

The New Professor (FE: Three Houses Short Fic)

Konosuba / School-Live! AU

CONTAINS School-Live! (Gakkou Gurashi) anime spoilers!

A new visitor arrives to Garreg Mach, causing a commotion among the population.

Byleth, Kazuma, and Aqua are sent to investigate who the new visitor is.

----

(Byleth) sigh

(Aqua) “Come on, tell me I’m right!”

(Kazuma) “Okay, you’re goddamn stupid.”

(Aqua) “Shut up, NEET!”

(Kazuma) “Stop calling me a NEET you bitch!”

(Sothis) “Ugh, what are they complaining about now?”

(Byleth) “Apparently something about the amiibo gazebo being part of a greater power than you or anything here...”

(Sothis) “And that’s why they’re throwing profanity around?”

(Aqua) “Listen, this is a serious discussion!”

(Kazuma) “One that you’re completely wrong about!”

Byleth shook his head. He was starting to regret asking them to lunch.

Before he could continue eating, Alois ran up to his table.

(Alois) “Ah, there you are Byleth!”

(Byleth) “Alois, what’s wrong?”

(Alois) “We just found a woman unconscious near the classrooms!”

(Byleth) “What?!”

(Kazuma) “Wait, why are you telling him this, isn’t this stuff left to the knights?”

(Alois) “Well the thing is, we don’t know where she came from, or who she is. I daresay she’s not even from Fodlan!”

(Aqua) “Wait, like as in completely foreign country or?”

(Alois) “As in, completely otherwordly! Actually, her clothing reminds me a bit of yours, Kazuma!”

Kazuma’s eyes widened and turned to Aqua.

(Kazuma) “Hold up a sec, you think she could be...?”

(Aqua) “Only one way to find out! Byleth, we’re coming with you!”

Byleth nodded and the three of them followed Alois to the classrooms.

...

----

SLAM!

Megumi shut the door behind her as hard as she could, making sure it couldn’t be open from the other side.

(???) “Let me go!”

(??? 2) Yuki-chan, stop it!”

(???) “Megu-nee’s still outside! We have to hurry!”

(??? 3) “It’s too late!”

(??? 2) “WAIT!”

(???) “Megu-nee! MEGU-NEEEEE!”

...

(??? 1) “Shit, she looks beat up bad!”

(??? 2) “There’s blood everywhere, what happened to her?!”

(??? 3) “You guys didn’t try to get a healer first?”

(??? 4) “We tried! There’s something in her arm that’s spreading and we can’t stop it!”

(??? 1) “Aqua!”

(??? 2) “On it! Oh no...From what I’m seeing in her injuries, it’s like some zombie infection!”

(??? 3) “Wait, what’s a zombie?”

(??? 1) “God damn, what the hell?! Tch, nevermind, questions later! We gotta use Turn Undead!”

(??? 2) “Wait, that’s going to hurt her!”

(??? 1) “Aqua, it doesn’t look like she’s fully infected yet, so maybe it can stop it before it spreads! We gotta do SOMETHING!”

(??? 1) “Damn, TURN UNDEAD!”

Megumi could only hear the voices faintly, but it started to grow louder as she felt a sharp pain in her arm that quickly went away.

(??? 2) “Alright, she’s stabilizing.”

Megumi opened her eyes slowly, the light blinding her from the windows.

(Megumi) “H-Huh...?”

(Kazuma) “H-Hey, she’s waking up!”

She looked up and saw three people she’s never seen before, wearing what seemed to be medieval European clothing.

(Byleth) “I see you’re awake now.”

(Aqua) “Hey there!”

(Kazuma) “Better places to pass out than on the ground, ya know!”

(Megumi) “Where...am I?”

...

(Byleth) “Yes, we know Sothis. We’ll try to explain it in basic terms.”

(Megumi) ?

(Kazuma) “Well...put simply, you’re in a school.”

The word school echoed through her mind. Megumi’s heartbeat suddenly spiked as she almost jumped to her feet, looking behind her frantically.

(Megumi) “YUKI-CHAN!”

When she spun around, she only saw Alois and a few of the Monastery’s classrooms.

(Alois) “T-Take it easy ma’am! We know you’re confused but!”

Megumi’s breathing was out of control, her head jerking back and forth trying to find anything familiar.

But to no avail.

(Megumi) “YUKI! KURUMI! RII-SAN! ANYONE?!”

(Byleth) “Miss, please, calm down!”

Kazuma grabbed the shoulders of the woman and kept her still.

(Kazuma) “Take a deep breath, alright?!”

Megumi eventually stopped shaking as she took in more of her surroundings. It was clear she wasn’t at the school anymore but...

With a deep exhale, she finally calmed down.

(Megumi) “I-I’m sorry...I-I don’t know where I am.”

(Byleth) “What’s your name?”

(Megumi) “My name...My name is Megumi Sakura. I’m a teacher at Megurigaoka Private High School.”

(Aqua) “That sounds a lot like...”

(Kazuma) “Japanese.”

(Aqua) “This is a weird question to ask but...Are you from Japan?”

(Megumi) “Yes, I am?”

Kazuma took a little comfort in that. He now wasn’t the only person thrown to this world from Earth.

(Kazuma) “Well...how do I put this? You’re not in Japan anymore, you’re pretty much in the same boat I am. We’re in a country called Fodlan.”

(Megumi) “Where is that?”

(Kazuma) “It doesn’t exist back on our world, Miss Sakura. We’re basically in a Fantasy Europe with straight up magic, dragons, all that crazy bullshit.”

(Megumi) “But...what happened to our world? My students?”

(Kazuma) “Um...I’m not sure. I didn’t come from YOUR world, per se. My world was in peace while yours seemed to be...uh...”

(Megumi) “I see...”

Megumi’s heart sank. She just happened to be unlucky enough to be in a world where crisis struck them instead of having a normal life like Kazuma.

(Aqua) “I’m sure you must have a million questions, but you need some rest! Here, follow me and I’ll try to answer anything you might ask on the way.”

(Megumi) “B-But...”

Sighing, Megumi followed Aqua to her room.

(Alois) “From another world? First you and your friends Kazuma, now her! What a crazy time to live in! Poor thing must be so confused if she’s shouting for her students like that...”

Kazuma couldn’t help but shiver at that. He couldn’t imagine coming to a brand new world completely alone. He was lucky to have others with him here. At the very least, he had some semblance of a fantasy world, Megumi must be feeling as if she were on another planet.

Which in some sense, she was.

(Kazuma) “Hey uh...she said she was a teacher, right?”

(Byleth) “Yeah, of some private school.”

(Kazuma) “Do...Do you think she could teach alongside you, professor?”

(Byleth) “What?”

(Kazuma) “Well, if the church throws her ass to the curb, she’s going to be completely lost! She doesn’t understand a world like yours in the slightest.”

Byleth looked at Megumi and nodded.

(Byleth) “I’ll talk to Rhea about it.”

...

After a few days of getting settled in and recovering, Megumi began to explore the Monastery with Kazuma and his gang.

(Aqua) “The Monastery is more of a military academy than a normal school.”

(Kazuma) “Yeah, Garreg Mach Monastery, or The Officer’s Academy, is the full name of this place.”

(Darkness) “Many people are aspiring to be a knight here. That is my goal. Well, being stuck here anyway.”

(Megumin) “My goal is to make a name for the Crimson Demon, and no matter the world we’re thrown into, that shall always be my top priority!”

(Megumi) “I had no idea other people could be thrown into worlds so casually...A-And what about God and?”

(Aqua) “Well you see I’m-”

Kazuma elbowed Aqua, shaking his head.

(Kazuma) “The poor woman’s going to be more confused, alright?! Just keep that to yourself for now!”

(Aqua) “Jerk!”

(Megumi) “Oh by the way, where is that blue haired man?”

(Kazuma) “Oh, professor Byleth? I’m not sure, honestly. I asked him to talk to the head honcho here of letting you teach here.”

(Megumi) “Huh?! B-But, I don’t know how to fight!”

(Aqua) “That’s fine! There’s still stuff like math here!”

(Darkness) “It’s just something to help you fit in. We don’t want you getting thrown out while you have no idea what’s happening.”

(Megumin) “Besides, I’m sure you’ll love the students here!”

(Claude’s Voice) “Well, probably just me.”

Claude, Dimitri, and Edelgard walked up to the group and noticed Megumi.

(Dimitri) “Ah, so you’re that new teacher that has been causing quite a stir! I am Dimitri, House leader of the Blue Lions.”

(Edelgard) “My name is Edelgard, and I am the House Leader of the Black Eagles.”

(Claude) “Claude, Golden Deer. Nice to meet ya!”

(Megumi) “T-Thank you! My name is Megumi Sakura...I-I’m sorry, did you say new teacher?”

(Edelgard) “Why yes. We’ve been informed that Byleth has an assistant who will be helping teach the three houses.”

(Megumi) “HUH?! W-WHY DID NO ONE ASK ME FIRST?!”

(Dimitri) “Hah, are you getting cold feet Professor Sakura?”

(Megumi) “...Professor Sakura...”

She smiled a little, blushing at the name.

(Megumi) “Well, at least someone’s finally referring to me as my proper teacher name.”

(Edelgard) “What did people usually refer to you as?”

(Megumi) “Megu-nee.”

(Aqua) “Aw, that’s actually kinda cute!”

(Megumi) “It’s not befitting of a teacher!”

(Claude) “Megu-nee..Hah, I like that sound of that a bit better honestly!”

(Edelgard) “Megun-nee. It does have a nice ring to it.”

(Dimitri) “Well, Megu-nee, we’ll be seeing you soon! We just wanted to say hello.”

(Claude) “Be seein’ ya around!”

(Megumi) “D-DON’T CALL ME MEGU-NEE! IT’S...ah...”

Everyone else laughed at her embarassment, but Kazuma put a hand on her shoulder.

(Kazuma) “You’ll fit right in, Megu-nee! Those three will put in a good word for ya! Byleth will be too, no doubt!”

Everyone gave her an encouraging smile.

(Darkness) “Please, if you need us for anything do not hesitate to ask for help.”

(Megumi) “...”

A part of her was going to miss her students so dearly. Yuki, Kurumi, and Yuuri would be alone without her, missing her and thinking that she was dead. She wanted to tell them that she was alive and well thanks to the help of everyone here so far but...

Megumi knew that was going to be a long time before that happened.

With the help of everyone here, she knew the road was going to be a lot less lonely than she thought.

(Megumi) “I never could’ve anticipated that this was where my life was going to go once I thought I was dead but...I won’t waste this second chance you’ve given me, so for that I will do my best to repay it and continue teaching!”

(Byleth) “We’re happy to hear it.”

Byleth smiled at her as he walked over, extending his hand.

(Byleth) “Welcome to the family, Megumi.”

She hesitated before giving her hand, but she took Byleth’s hand and shook it firmly.

(Byleth) “Come on, the rest of the staff wants to meet you.”

(Megumi) “R-Right!”

(Kazuma) “Good luck, Megu-nee!”

She spun around quickly and pouted.

“Kazuma, don’t call me Megu-nee! It’s Professor Sakura!”

Unfortunately for her, no one would heed her wishes to be called that.

Everyone greeted their new professor, Megu-nee.

---

[Indirect Sequel: Megumi Sakura as a Professor AU]

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kyouryokusenshi · 5 years ago

Text

Hotel California

My MUCH MUCH belated 50 states fic has arrived.

Summary: Mulder and Scully stay in a swanky California hotel in the Bay Area. Set sometime after Plus One, but before Rm9. “A Map of Us: 50 States of Sex” challenge by @viceversawrites and @softnow

Tagging some other folks: @baronessblixen @danceswithcybermen @kikocrystalball @cultureisdarkbeer @fragilevixenfic @suitablyaggrieved @today-in-fic

A/N: I am soooo sorry it took this long for me to get this out. I’ve been in a major writing rut and life has just been crazy. As you may have guessed, the title was inspired by the song Hotel California. I also don’t own any rights to it, of course. :)

Shedding her coat was one of the first things Scully had done upon exiting the plane at SFO. The tight proximity of the plane cabin on the six-hour non-stop flight had her feeling nauseous and claustrophobic in addition to her usual airborne anxiety.

“You alright, Scully?” Mulder asked as he gently palmed her shoulder.

She could feel his gaze soaking up the entirety of her, carefully analyzing in case he found her answer less than satisfactory.

Scully regarded him carefully as he smoothed a lock of stray hair behind her shoulder while they waited for their luggage. She opened her mouth as she considered her words.

“I, uh...hot flashes,” she let out a chuckle. “I guess I should give up and join the AARP club.”

Mulder shook his head as he placed his hand on the small of her back. “Well, at least, I’ll no longer be flying solo in that club.”

Scully looked at him in shock. “Wow, you never fail to surprise me, Mulder.”

“Hey,” he rebuked. “Sooner or later, we’re gonna retire, remember? Those discounts will come in handy. May as well start saving now. I’ve been out of work for over a decade, remember?”

Scully smiled. “You have a valid point.” She couldn’t help but admit that this new frugal Mulder was turning her on.

“Well, what can I say, those online couponing groups are also pretty useful.”

“I must admit,” Scully started as they reached for their luggage as it came along on the conveyor belt, “I’m excited to see this swanky hotel you put us up in and how on Earth you managed to get it by Skinner.”

Mulder smiled. “I was taking more of an ‘act now and ask questions later’ approach.”

“Oh, Mulder,” Scully sighed, resigned. “I guess some things never change- which is oddly comforting.”

“Just think of it as a belated birthday gift, courtesy of yours truly, the Hoover Building, and Big Orange.”

-----

Once they retrieved their things and walked out to the pickup area, Mulder pulled up the Uber app and requested a ride. Sure enough, a friendly driver by the name of Jose pulled up to the curb in a red Nissan Versa.

The gentleman who appeared in his mid- to late- thirties rolled down the window. “Bob?”

“Yes,” Mulder remarked quickly before the younger man hopped out of the car to assist them with their luggage.

Mulder exchanged a quick glance over at Scully, who was, indeed, raising her eyebrow in amusement. “Are you having an identity crisis, Mulder?”

Jose reached for their suitcases-- to which Mulder happily obliged as the driver placed them into the trunk of his car.

“You try explaining Fox for the millionth time,” he quipped, palming her shoulder as she reached for the door to the front passenger seat. “It does make for some interesting conversation.”

With Mulder in the back seat and Scully in front, they admired their coastal surroundings and bustling of the city. Several electric Bird scooters lay tossed haphazardly upon the sidewalk as they passed through some great and not so great parts of the city.

“So you’re from D.C., huh?” the driver mused from behind his shades. “What brings you out here?”

“We’re FBI Agents,” Mulder provided as the driver’s eyes went wide.

“No shit?”

“We’re not really here on business, though-- at least, not exactly. My partner here just had a birthday last week.”

“Oooh, well happy belated birthday. I must say, though, the hotel I’m taking you to is pretty swanky. You won’t be disappointed,” he said, glancing back at Scully.

“Is that so?” Scully said, catching Mulder’s gaze in the mirror.

-----

Minutes later, after some sightseeing suggestions, they pulled up in front of a highrise building that was smaller than many of the others that surrounded it. Once the driver retrieved their luggage and bid them farewell, Mulder opened the Uber app and left the guy five stars with a generous tip.

Scully happened to catch a glance at the screen. “Is Skinner paying for that, too?”

Mulder smirked as he pocketed his phone. “Go big or go home, Scully.”

She sighed as they entered the building. “Well, we’ve already come this far.”

As they entered the lobby, they were greeted with an abundance of boutique decorations that were modernized mid-century style. Scully turned to look over her shoulder at Mulder and nodded in amusement.

“Wow, Mulder, you really outdid yourself.”

“I try,” he purred, slipping his arm around her shoulders, steering them towards check-in. “I try.”

If the lobby decor was anything to go by, Scully should have been prepared for the boutique designs that had awaited them in the room. The room itself wasn’t huge, but it was clearly a recent design with a mid-century modern flair. The walls were an orange-ish red to contrast the wooden flooring. A king-sized bed lay in the middle as a large heart-shaped jacuzzi tub was just opposite of the room.

The urge to rid Mulder of his clothing right then and there was extremely tempting.

Mulder turned back towards her, clearly reading her thoughts as he closed the space between them. “Now, I know what you’re thinking, Scully; I’m thinking the same thing, but I made a dinner reservation that’s a half-hour from now. Let the anticipation build some, hmm?”

Scully startled as Mulder placed one arm around her and the other at her thigh, and in one swooping motion, she was dipped backward as his lips fell onto hers. “Oh!” She closed her eyes as she allowed him to support her weight, returning the kiss with fervor.

“Mmm,” Mulder moaned as he felt her tongue slipped between his lips. He hardened involuntarily against his slacks, brushing against her thigh in the process.

Scully moved into the kiss further, tasting him as she placed an arm around his shoulders.

Mulder reveled in the taste of her before breaking the contact. “Jesus, what you do to me, woman,” he breathed heavily.

“Who needs seafood for dinner when I can have you?” Scully rasped, a teasing glint in her eye.

“Mmm… as amazing as that sounds, Scully, the kid-sized peanuts and pretzels for the past seven hours—courtesy of the airline staff-- doesn’t quite do it for me.

“It had better not disappoint, Mulder.”

----

They somehow managed to collect themselves over the next several minutes before Mulder had called for an Uber on his phone. They were nearly running down the hall to the elevator once they realized the driver was less than a minute away already.

“Chasing Ubers can be like chasing monsters, I guess,” Mulder remarked on the elevator ride down.

Scully rolled her eyes as the door opened before rushing out into the corridor.

The trip itself wasn’t long, but a good portion of it involved them sitting in traffic as per usual in the East Bay Area according to the driver. Mulder looked over and smiled at Scully. She met his gaze and returned his smile at the driver’s choice of music and lyrics from Hotel California began to play.

“On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair

Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air

Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light

My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim

I had to stop for the night.

There she stood in the doorway;

I heard the mission bell

And I was thinking to myself

'This could be heaven or this could be Hell'

Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way

There were voices down the corridor,

I thought I heard them say

Welcome to the Hotel California

Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)”

Scully turned to look at Mulder, it finally having dawned on her the significance of this song. In her tone-deaf voice, Scully sang, softly.

“Such a lovely face. Plenty of room at the Hotel California. Any time of year, any time of year, you can find it here.”

Mulder chuckled. “I thought you couldn’t sing.”

“I can’t,” she scoffed, gazing out the window at the immaculate view of the Golden Gate Bridge and the tranquil blue waters in the distance. Her lips curved upwards, “But, it’s the Eagles, how can you not?”

Mulder looked over at her, struck suddenly by those blue depths as he often was. He leaned forward and Scully met him halfway, her lips connecting instantly with his. God, he couldn’t get enough of her.

Until recently, he didn’t want to get his hopes up that she’d want to rekindle what they’d had together for so many years. He was uncertain if the night at the St. Rachel motel was more than a desire to combat the loneliness he that plagued them both.

“Hey, don’t take it any further back there, alright?” the Uber driver warned.

A few minutes and several discarded Lime scooters along the street later, they arrived at their destination for the night; a restaurant along the Pacific Ocean's cliff. The sun had just started to set, crimson melting into the sky as the sun cast its final sheen onto the water’s surface.

Once they were inside, a busboy asked if they had a reservation, to which Mulder provided the name Bob once again.

He smirked knowingly as Scully cast him another look.

The interior of the restaurant was as fancy as the hotel Mulder had reserved; although, they were surrounded by double-paned windows instead of walls that provided a breath-catching view of the ocean outside.

“Oh, Mulder, you shouldn’t have,” she teased as they sat down.

They were just short of beating the evening rush as several people began to pour in shortly after. A server stopped by to offer a selection of wine and Scully eagerly claimed a bottle of red that the younger gentleman had boasted was local to Napa.

Mulder raised a toast to Scully before watching the way the red liquid touched her lips and the way her tongue claimed the excess as she set the glass down.

“Scully, did you know over ninety percent of the wine in the United States is produced in California?”

“Considering I spent some time in this state, I could have easily guessed,” she remarked as she took another swig of wine.

“Hey, I gotta keep you on your toes,” he retorted as he playfully lifted his eyebrows.

Scully opted for a plate of seafood pasta, with the seafood being locally sourced, as Mulder opted for prime rib.

Scully cast a glance around the spacious interior of the restaurant, looking at tables filled with people and chatter as the sky darkened outside. Mulder had rid himself of his coat and she couldn’t help but notice the scent of his cologne permeating through the air between them. He must have put it on in their mad dash to ready themselves for dinner. She wished she'd have thought to pack a small vial of perfume for this trip.

Their dinner arrived within twenty minutes, most of which was spent in silence as they admired the sunset and colorful hues of the sky outside the vast windows. Once Scully finished her food, she hoped she wouldn't have any issues keeping it down.

After they managed to finish off a bottle of wine, Mulder paid the bill, much to Scully's chagrined reluctance and they meandered their way outside to the patio, which was surprisingly empty. As the brisk air passed over them, they could see why.

Scully shivered as they gazed out at the now darkened sky, rubbing warmth into her arms. Mulder seemed to take note of this an instantly shed his coat and draped it around her before she could offer a rebuttal.

"Remember how I told you about the stars, how they're billions of years old?" Mulder mused.

Scully couldn't help but laugh at the memory. "How could I forget? At one point, I thought you were among them," she explained.

Mulder turned towards her as a moment of melancholy settled between them.

"I spent thirty minutes talking to Skinner about souls and starlight."

To her surprise, they both let out a chuckle.

"Good. Now, he can pay it forward," Mulder chuckled.

Scully didn't seem to catch on to this last statement as her gaze traveled up and down Mulder's well-tailored suit, which was snug in all the right places.

While a ways from being drunk, she was feeling euphoric effects of the buzz she had going.

"Scully?" Mulder promoted, making her realize she had been quietly staring at him for a good few minutes.

"Huh?"

"Did you want to take a little walk?"

"No, I actually think I want to go back to the hotel and, erm, make use of the facilities you paid so much for."

Mulder eyed her for a moment before nodding reluctantly.

Twenty minutes later, they were back at the hotel and Scully opened the drapes to reveal the iridescent lights of the city before them. It was a breathtaking view.

"So, I was thinking we could walk around the city tomorrow; check out Pier 39, walk around the Golden Gate Bridge or heck, take a boat ride to Alcatraz… "

"You know, Mulder," Scully interjected from the bathroom, "I just realized there's only one bed."

Mulder felt like a deer in headlights. He still wasn't quite sure where they stood, but after that case with the twins and the fact that Scully was at the house regularly, he figured it odd to be sleeping in separate rooms at this point.

He scratched his head nervously. "I, erm, well, I can… take the couch."

Mulder was wholly unprepared for what came next. Scully exited the restroom, having shed her blouse down to reveal a lacy black bra.

A shiver of anticipation passed through him at the sight. If it was cold before, the room suddenly felt extremely hot.

"I'm kidding, Mulder."

"Oh, I uh...um…"

He turned away, not wanting to make any further assumptions. They both had had plenty to drink, though most of his buzz had tapered off already.

"So...any of those sound good to you?" He asked nervously.

"Think," she mused playfully, "we can figure out something.” Her sultry tone was not lost on him.

As she moved closer, he turned toward her, feeling himself harden in response and unable to look away as his gaze traveled up and down her body.

Mulder seemed to be asking a silent question with his gaze, to which Scully responded by reaching to unbutton her skirt and allowing it to all but drop to the floor in a haphazard heap.

Mulder could feel his heartbeat quicken and thump against his chest at the sight. The next thing he knew, his hands were moving on their own accord to free himself from the confines of his pants.

As he did so, Scully crossed in front of him and playfully pushed him back onto the bed before assisting him with stripping his pants the rest of the way down.

Mulder let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding as he stared up at the intricate contemporary artwork on the ceiling. He allowed himself to be at Scully's mercy, letting her have full control over how far she wanted this to go. The next thing he knew, the warmth of her mouth enveloped his length, moving up and down, sucking him into the back of her throat with a hum.

She took her time in pleasuring him, savoring the taste of him like a popsicle.

"Oooh, I'm not going to last long at this rate, Scully," he moaned, feeling himself throb inside the sheath of her mouth.

Scully pulled back then, licking her lips and savoring the taste of him before crawling onto the bed on her hands and knees and straddling him between her legs.

As she neared, Mulder was entranced by the sight of her voluptuous breasts as if he was privileged to see them for the first time. Other than their recent encounters a few weeks back while investigating the doppelganger case, they hadn't been intimate for a few years, and it seemed like an eternity.

As Mulder reached for them, Scully's hand found his, guiding it to her chest. As she moved to unclasp her bra, Mulder’s hands were covering hers as they both worked to free her from the contraption. He could swear they seemed slightly fuller than before, but maybe it was his imagination.

Scully let out a small gasp at his touch as his fingers explored her breasts as she moved on top of him. "Oh, God," she moaned.

Mulder gently nibbled on the small bud, the sensitivity shocking Scully to her core. Gently, he released her nipple as he allowed his tongue to slowly draw circles around her areola before trailing upward to her neck and jawline.

Scully leaned forward, pressing her lips against his ear and biting down slowly, gently nibbling on his upper ear before moving downward.

Mulder slipped his free arm underneath Scully in the process and the moment his fingers touched her folds, he could immediately feel the wetness seeping between them. He pushed inside, making a come hither motion with his index finger, causing her to yelp.

"Fuck me!"

Scully bucked against him involuntarily as he moved to tease her clit.

"Happy to oblige," he moaned.

Their mouths found their way back to one another and Scully felt her walls spasming against his touch.

He removed his finger and slipped it into his mouth, savoring the sweet tang of her before offering it to her. Realizing he couldn't wait much longer, he surprised her by shifting slightly as she parted her legs and slipped inside.

"Oh, Scully," he moaned.

The feeling of him inside her was welcoming as they began to work in tandem with each thrust. Mulder's hands supported her hips as she reached out to grasp the headboard.

"Oooohh fuuuck!" she nearly screamed. In that moment, she couldn't have given a fuck less if anyone overheard them.

Mulder threw his head back as he picked up the pace. He could tell she was close as he was.

"Yes, MULDER. YES!"

As he felt himself spill inside of her, he felt her walls ripple against him before feeling her release. With a heavy sigh, Scully relaxed against him. The moment was euphoric even though everything went so fast.

Mulder moaned as Scully shifted to move beside him, her hands finding their way down his chest, her fingers taking delicate care along the way. Neither wished for the moment to end. Scully felt Mulder’s hand find its place on her lower back as she moved closer to his face, teasing him with her bottom lip until their mouths connected.

Closing his eyes, Mulder moaned into the contact, his tongue moving in sync with hers, relishing the taste of her mouth and the softness of her breasts pressing against him. Scully finally pulled back with a gasp, allowing the air to seep through her lungs as she lay on her back. It was as if she had forgotten to breathe.

Mulder smiled in spite of himself, allowing a moment to pass before he moved to sit beside Scully as they faced the opened window that overlooked the city lights.

“Talk about an afterglow,” Scully said as she rolled over onto her stomach. “Were the curtains open this whole time?”

“Yeah,” Mulder chuckled. “Good thing we’re on the top floor, huh?” he said with a chuckle.

Scully hummed as she moved to wrap herself inside the warmth of the top comforter.

“You planned all this didn’t you?”

A smile pulled at Mulder’s lips as he leaned over, brushing her hair aside as he nuzzled her neck with his nose. “Well, I am a dark wizard, Scully.”

“Mmm, is that so?” she moaned, lifting her brows suggestively as he pulled away. Their lips found one another again and they closed their eyes, savoring the moment.

Opening her eyes, Scully looked at Mulder and a sly smile tugged at her lips. “Well then, I can think of a few more things that could use some...magic,” she whispered as she lifted the comforter.

“Oh, now you’re talking,” he said suggestively as he dove under the covers with Scully squealing in delight, enjoying the contact. She could feel the heat of his mouth as it neared her center, sending a gentle shiver up her spine. Mulder’s tongue slowly began to tease her clit and she writhed underneath him as she yelped out in excitement.

“Ohhh God!”

Mulder stopped only momentarily, grinning to himself. He knew exactly what he was doing to her and how she was instantly putty in his hands. He continued diving into her warm core, savoring the taste of her.

Slowly but surely, they would make their way back to one another. It had been set into motion since they first went back to the FBI together. The stars seemed to align more perfectly than ever before as they got back to their bread and butter.

END

#50statesofsex #xfilesfanfiction #mulderandscully #smut

118 notes · View notes

tanoraqui · 5 years ago

Note

please write more for that au its SO CRAZY GOOD i need more... youre such a brilliant write

no knowing what this was about. Please enjoy character sketches of six generations of Watsons + a couple Holmeses, courtesy of this bit of technically-original-fic-because-of-public-domain. Still not sure what I’m going to do with all these people!!

Mycroft Holmes, 1830 - 1901

Original incarnator and namer of Sherlock Holmes

Basically to see if he could. Incarnator and academic studier of spirits. Spark, and good at it.

(Death spirits aren’t very stable bc they tend to. Um. Kill the host. Only so much you can do to restrain the nature.

Mycroft concluded that that’s bc it’s always polluted by the fear of death - pure death would be more directable

He was right? Also, I guess mildly suicidal? And did a lot of trial and error in brief experiments in hospices, even a war zone or two, over a decade or so. Personality developed based on Mycroft’s, ofc, cool-emotioned but ever-curious, and an ego the size of imperial India

So Holmes was substantial enough to manifest more or less as we know him when Watson had a panicked moment on that battlefield

John Watson, 1867 - 1891

Bearer of Sherlock Holmes, 1886 - 1891

Dutiful, mom friend, selfless, kinda all or nothing, quick decisions - good in medical emergency, sometimes impulsive/reckless, mediocre shot except at snooker, reads for fun - especially once he picks up a bookwormy demon

Trained incarnator-physician

Summoned him in a terrible moment in the war in Afghanistan(?) in 1886

The field hospital was under attack, evacuation having been interrupted by unexpected enemy maneuvers, and Dr. Watson was torn between shooting on the enemy and trying desperately to tend to patients, but there was no way out and nothing but death all around. Nothing at hand but death.

So he figured “what the hell” and summoned a spirit out of that, bound to his own body ofc, and had him kill all the enemy. Holmes offered to take some of the death out of the British wounded as he did. A friendship began.

“Listen here, Watson - war is no place for pure death!” -some discomfitted superior officer, dismissing him from the service

John didn’t fully disagree, the easiness felt wrong - but it all felt wrong. And the medical applications…

But no hospital would hire him, with a death demon and the way he flinched at sudden noises still, hands that still shook

Holmes scented a recent death, they interrupted a police investigation, impressed them with medical knowhow + death sense (passed off as medical knowhow for the moment?)

And That’s How We Ended Up A Consulting Detective

Died in 1891 in the course of dispelling Moriarty, a life demon and criminal mastermind - fell off a cliff, on top of him, to injure the body so bad Moriarty had to vacate

Mary Watson née Morstan, 1876 - 1929

Bearer of Sherlock Holmes, 1891 - 1914

Sensible, dutiful, decisive (good in crisis, sometimes bad choices, esp. in anger), more aware of her own faults than John but also must work harder to overcome internalized prejudices

Took up Holmes after John’s death, to (vengefully but well-intentionedly) scour any trace of Moriarty from Earth.

Often did so with Young John on her hip, bc what else are you gonna do. Could’ve gotten a nanny but didn’t have too much money and (along with Holmes) was more worried about him out of her sight than chasing murderers with them

In the early 20th centuries, she started getting overtures from the British government re: taking Holmes to war and just, you know, fucking shit up. When WWI started, she and Young John quickly devised a Plan™

Young John Watson, 1891 - 1939

Bearer of Sherlock Holmes, 1914 - 1939

Eminently practical but secretly romantic, nay, Romantic™, drinks hella respect women juice, quick-thinking

His mother started calling him “Johnny” instead of “Young John” when he was 2, but Holmes never picked it up - to Johnny’s annoyance, bc he wanted to, you know, not just be his father. They had a full argument about it, Holmes refused the juvenile nickname, but did his best to use “John” for like a week before reverting. It grew on him a little, though.

The Plan™:

Basically, the govt had slowly come around to the idea that a weak and feeble woman was in possession (ha) of one of the strongest demons in England. They (she and Young John) were sure she’d be summoned once war broke out - indeed, perhaps she was, but it was more like sounding her out and she put them off. Can’t draft a woman after all.

But clearly they’d escalate, so…fortunately, John had fallen thoroughly and mutually in love with a young American woman, who didn’t mind taking him home at all - they’d probably beaten it around the bush a little, hypotheticals, and then this…there was a bit of a tizzy tbh. John nearly fucked it up, emphasizing that he was immigrating for Holmes and not for her, no pressure on her whatsoever. Possibly they didn’t sort it out until they arrived in New York - though this did have the boat ride to do it.

But yeah: Mary released Holmes, John took him up and left the country with the govt none the wiser, Mary continues putting off the govt until the passports were thoroughly stamped…

And then America stayed out of the war long enough, and idk if “conscientious objector” was a thing but I’m sure he found some way to put it off.

Holmes did well during the Great Influenza, at least.

Buuut they ended up consulting detecting anyway lbr.

Shot in 1939, possibly by sniper in crowded area or at least by gunmen in unexpected attack, on a case set up by Moriarty…

Gave Holmes his death, final order to get Jillian out of here alive.

Amelia Hunter, 1896 - 1966

Moderately wealthy New York family

Visited her second cousin in London in 1913-1914, as well as the English suffragette movement (herself a part of the American movement)

Met and fell quite in love with Johnny Watson, with a cheerful dose of “your mother is so cool.” Cheerfully helped him and his mother con the British government out of a death demon, married him once they both got their heads a little straight

Jillian Watson, 1920 - 2019

Bearer of Sherlock Holmes, 1939 - 2019

I’m not saying she swore vengeance on not just Moriarty but the entirety of Nazi Germany whom he was supporting (for fun a profit, per usual), after they killed her father in front of her - for almost certainly the express purpose of keeping Holmes out of the incipient war - but I’m also not…not saying that

Nor am I saying that she was part of the inspiration for Captain America in this ‘verse, or at least for Peggy, but I’m not not saying that either

Slightly rogue incredible combat fighter who volunteers to go fight Nazis before it’s even cool? Yeah. Yeah. Some Peggy art just straight-up looks like her, once Kirby&Lee somehow met her

Jillian Watson. How do I begin to describe Jillian Watson

Jillian Watson is a superhero. Jillian Watson is a spy. After WWII, once someone in the army decided it was better to work with her than against her, she ended up in…whatever proto-CIA they were forming at the time

Also, got married and had a kid while still on semi-desk duty

Jillian Watson is known as “Angel of Death” in 40 languages in 95 countries. Jillian Watson liberated at least one Jewish concentration camp. Jillian Watson stopped the Cold War from getting Hot at least twice - and neither time involved Cuba. She was on vacation that month.

And Holmes, obviously. They had a very solid hot/cold balance - only one was ever emotional at once

Jillian Watson has kissed a KGB agent, killed a king, and met nearly every US President from Truman through Reagan. She liked Eisenhower best. Carter downright annoyed her, and she nearly had a shouted argument with LBJ, though they also exchanged a handful of letters

Jillian Watson probably helped bring down the government in Iran in the 70s

Jillian Watson was probably not a great mother. She was too busy chasing adrenaline and maybe glory.

They liaised with the FBI, too, as it grew, and shifted to their Spiritual Crimes Division completely in the late 60s/early 70s, when age was starting to really catch up with her - a death spirit can keep away infections and viruses, but not the simple wear and tear of age and adventure

When the AIDS crisis hit, Marcus put them in contact with people and Jillian Watson once more became known as the Angel of Death, this time for bringing mercy

Retired age 80 (2000), under duress. Still did some consulting.

Liz was an option, but she was already getting on, and maybe irritated not to have gotten Holmes before (and/or maybe growing out of that desire anyway?) Manuel was a candidate, but Holmes needed a lot of talking around - and it didn’t matter yet, bc neither of them wanted to be parted. Neither could quite forget losing her father (or hte original John Watson) and Holmes meant to stick it out, and Jillian had no intention of retiring that much

Eventually got some quite contacts - nay, friends! - among elderly in her area to engage in consensual euthenasia now and then. Supplemented by hanging out in morgues and cemeteries and buying and killing a TON of plants, and sometimes mice.

Went on a lot of protest marches in retirement

Marcus Watson, 1920 - 2005

Twin of Jillian

Gay

Settled down with a lovely partner (Henry White) sometime in the 50s in NYC, where they lived for the rest of their lives

Not particularly interested in the life of a consulting detective/incarnator. Didn’t mind, but got squeamish, and just…didn’t enjoy being in danger. John took him on a couple cases but Jillian was the one who wanted to go, to know, even when they were kids, and he was happy to let her. Born to be a house husband.

He and his Henry were fully exclusive, neither got AIDS - but they lost a lot of friends. Practically, he turned Jillian and Holmes on to the crisis, connected her with people who knew people

Jeremiah Fletcher, 1918 - 2000

Married Jillian Watson in 1946

Fell in love when she broke him out of a German prison in 1942

African-American

Elizabeth “Liz” Watson, 1949 - 2009

Free spirit, adventurous, thought her mother (+ Holmes) was the coolest person ever, wanted to be the same.

Legitimately badass in her own right. Joined…same service probably? They didn’t want another woman but someone intelligent resigned themselves to at least having a Watson in reserve, in case they couldn’t convince the demon to accept another host

Though, why “convince” when you can bind?

And if there’s no alternative, maybe he’ll be happy with a proper agent…

Or there was one person hiring who wasn’t a total ass, eventually

Though possibly by that time she’d decided “fuck it” and set out on her own

Basically a mercenary. Expected to inherit Holmes when her mother retired. There were some awesome mother-daughter expeditions

Got having children out of the way early - one child, at least, via a random French man in the summer of 1970. Donna from Mamma Mia energy. Jacques SomethingFrench

Tension with her mother (and Holmes) grew as Jillian continued to not retire and Holmes…tried to look after them both tbh. Liz hated being cosetted

Heart attack age 60, slightly adrenaline-induced but relatively tame - hiking or something; maybe surfing. Died quickly in hospital

Therese Marquéz née Watson, 1971 - present

Resented being left behind with her grandfather (Jeremiah) or great-uncle or just nannies while he mother gallivanted around the globe, but nor did she personally enjoy gallivanting

All but refuses to carnate even a light or luck spirit

Ran away several times, permanently at age 18

Met a nice young man in police training, (him), married him quickly, had twins, happy for a while…until she got furious at him for working long hours, risking his life, not giving her the domestic bliss and picket fence life she’d imagined

Also, he got along with her family, which she couldn’t stand

Didn’t even wait for him to come home, just left the twins with Manuel’s sister’s family and left

Has come to see them a couple times, called on birthdays usually, but in general is a mediocre person

Manuel Marquéz, 1970 - 2012

Husband of Therese

A Good Man

V aware of how the world is shitty but wanted to make it better anyway

Whirlwind romance with a beautiful but mysterious girl while he was in police training, had twins, thought he was achieving the American Dream until it turned out his wife was bristling with resentment and straight-up left one night while he was on shift

Prior to that, Jillian and Holmes randomly showed up at least once to see the twins, having heard from Marcus that they existed (the only family member Therese told; the only one she stayed in much contact with)

They got along great - he took her snappishness in stride, they shared a slightly cynical sense of humor and desire to do good nonetheless. Got talking about police investigations and procedure, he wanted to invite her back except Therese couldn’t STAND it, so they didn’t

But when he lost Therese, he reached out - because fuck you, but also, so the kids could know that side of their family, and by then Jillian had also settled down in southern CA probably?

Dog person

Shot on the job when his kids were a year into college

David Marquéz, 1991 - present

Twin of Vanessa. Normal. Down-to-earth, B or B+ student, liked some sports, had friends, went to state college - Jillian offered to help pay for both twins, Manuel accepted bc that shit’s tough, especially two at once

Amiably disinterested in spiritual stuff - doesn’t mind, is more or less blasé about the whole Death Spirit thing - acts blase, at least; is actually kind of uncomfortable. But doesn’t want to be his mother, and so habitually doesn’t make a big deal of it, or of anything. Mediator.

Met a nice Jewish girl in college (Hannah Steinbeck) (himself tentatively, idly Catholic from the Marquéz side), dated her all through, followed her back to Boston to get a job…idk, something on computers. Coder?

Loudly insists (technically factually) that he’s the older brother, but to his credit has solid energy for it: responsible, stolid, reliable, Will fight if given cause.

But also, DID cheerfully leave his sister to be primary local caretaker to their elderly great-grandmother and her death spirit, not long after their father’s death. Will put his hands over his ears and talk loudly while walking away from stressful situations

Strong-ish but apathetic carnator

Vanessa “Vinnie” Marquéz/Watson, 1991 - present

Bearer of Sherlock Holmes, 2019 ongoing

BSN from idk

Thinks SHE’S the responsible one, particularly after David moved to Boston

Got along well with her father; he always supported her desire to go into medicine to help people. Really looked up to him, considered that career - but he urged her to be more actively helping life than just stopping death/crime (wanted better for his kids)

Always fully aware that good cops like her dad are rare; kind of illogically despises the whole institution since his death

(WAS that, too, arranged by Moriarty? Question for another day)

Likes Great British Bake-Off but CANNOT bake; likes Project Runway and other fashion shows and does, actually, have good fashion sense (just insufficient money to fulfill it). Sews well. Talks to cloth like it’s a patient

Lesbian!

Roommate is Darby, also a nurse, they/them. Together they’ll totally be like, *Leslie Knope voice* “Tragically, we are romantically incompatible*

First case happens literally in the apartment 3 stories down

I’m not saying she’s gonna kiss that FBI agent before it’s over but i’m sure as hell saying she’ll THINK about it

Also will get ⅔ of the way to telling Holmes to kill her and get the civilians out before backup arrives

#sherlock holmes #original fic #my fic #john watson

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