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empress-ghoul · 1 month ago

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Rising Waters, part eight

141 x witch!reader | old gods of appalachia au cw: supernatural elements, heavy gore (it's a lot), blood, vomiting, torture

a/n: took me nearly a month to write this but yippee! featuring very mean and evil john price and very heavy gore :)

The ground was sinking beneath your bare feet, the mud and debris weighing down every step trudged along. Putting on boots was a decision you didn’t have time to make but you weren’t sure if it would have helped or slowed you down. Truly, moving quickly proved to be a challenge — even if you were properly dressed— especially with the kickback that had left your shoulder screaming in protest with every movement. You were violently aware of the danger your current state posed, in the wilderness in just a nightgown. And with the world still reeling from the storm, everything seemed off kilter.

It was cold and humid at the same time. Your nightgown stuck to you like a second skin and sweat soaked your hair, but your lungs stung from the early autumn chill. Even after about an hour of switching between running and walking, there was no sound of the calvary hunting you down. You were certain you would hear them, four giant men like that.

When the adrenaline began wearing off, you found yourself leaned up against a tree while heaving for breath. There was a thickness in your throat that made the task difficult, as air refused to move until you finally calmed down. And now everything felt so heavy and wrong.

What had you done to yourself? Out of the stupid things you’d done in your life, shooting a creature like John Price was likely at the very top of the list and running from the wards was right below it. There were no wards to protect you out here in this part of the woods. But fortunately, your gift still alerted you when two of them began closing in on you.

You weren’t sure how close they were, but they were sure as hell close enough to get you moving again. Jogging was easier than running, until the pain in your feet began making itself known. There were no cuts when you examined them, but fat blisters had formed that made each step agony. Stopping wasn’t an option. You had to keep moving.

Then a shadow shifted in your peripheral vision, massive and heavy. Whipping around, you found yourself watching a massive sycamore tree. Your throat was so dry from running that the scream building within it ended up caught in your throat. It escaped as a choked gasp when a monster of man stepped out from behind a tree.

For a moment, you thought he was klan with the weird hood he wore over his head that obscured his face, but it was charcoal gray and dirty instead of white and pointed. He moved slowly towards where you stood, wide-eyed and frozen at his impressive stature, and handed you a card.

Shepherd & Graves Mining Combine

Another company man. Why wouldn’t it be another company man?

“You here to take me in?” you asked, somewhat defeated.

The behemoth took the card and flipped it.

“I am looking for four men.” His accent made it nearly impossible for you to hear, especially over the blood pumping through your head.

But your eyes shot up when you processed his words. Graves had been looking for them too. Which meant the company truly wasn’t after you.

“You can help me,” you gasped, grabbing his arms. “I can show you where they are but you have to help me!”

The man’s eyes crinkled with an unsee smile at the revelation that you could help him. But instead of taking you to safety, he pulled out a gun.

“Show me,” he demanded.

The lack of emotion and care in his voice toward your obvious plight completely leveled you. “Please. Get me to safety and—“

He surged forward and wrapped a massive hand around your jaw, squeezing your face in a crushing grip. The gun was at your temple and you wondered how much shorter his temper was.

“I’ve been in this shithole for over a month,” he hissed, a strange accent playing on his tongue. “You are going to take me to them right fucking now.”

That ringing in your ears began to build up once more, alerting you that two of them were getting close again. It muffled the sound of wet leaves under approaching heavy footfalls. You watched as his head shot up, staring just behind you, before shoving you to the ground. There was nothing behind you when you looked back.

“I found your little witch!” he called out to nothing as he began yelling out to the woods. “How about I take her back to Shepherd? Let him play with—“

You managed to scream as shadows twisted out of nowhere, wrapping around the enormous man’s limbs to lift him off the ground and pulling. It was impossible to look away. Fear had paralyzed you, had rooted you to the spot. There was a moment where you thought about trying to help him. As if you had a fighting chance against something already set in motion.

All you could do was watch with silent horror while his body creaked and groaned against the force holding him. He screamed, thrashing uselessly against the binds as his body was pulled taut. Joints began to pop and separate, his shoulders dragging from their sockets while his bones cracked under the pressure. The ligaments holding them in place strained, then snapped like bands that were pulled too tight. With his legs no longer able to kick out in his frantic attempts at escape, he just hung limply as he screamed.

Time hung heavy, seconds turned tedious and minutes leaden. You remained frozen, still. The world was quiet, save for the man gasping and groaning, speaking in a language you had no hope of understanding. He might have been praying, though you knew now that God would never hear him this deep in the mountains.

You didn’t know how long it had been — minutes or hours — when the skin began to tear, the muscles and nerves ripping apart before finally separating from the body. When he screamed, his voice tore from his throat with blood frothing from his lips. Even more showered down upon you as his limbs were separated from his torso. Then the man went silent.

All five pieces of him were dropped with soft thuds in a pile. You remained seized, unable to look away until the bile began rising in your stomach and up to your throat. At one time you might have bragged about having a strong stomach, but this was just too much. Soon you were crawling over and leaving a puddle of stomach acid and venison at the base of a tree.

You looked back again where the pile of viscera had smothered the patch of goldenrod beneath them. They had weathered the storm only to be destroyed by man. The irony nearly made you laugh. Mama might have had something to say about God’s mysteries, but she wasn’t here and neither was God.

Tears were pricking your eyes as you glanced up at Simon and Johnny. They were getting closer but clearly not in any rush to get to you. You wouldn’t be going anywhere. Your stomach was empty, your body was shaking, and the fear of something far worse than any celestial force had been instilled deep inside you.

You braced your hands on the tree for support, far too ready to let your body drop and let the Green take you back. It seemed you were the only one eager for that, though.

The inertia set in when two calloused hands gripped your biceps to pull you away from the tree. They felt almost like bear paws ready to sink claws in and drag you back to their den.

Their bucolic den protected by you and your wards with a wraparound porch, an ice box, and a massive garden that needed tending to. A punishment waiting to be served.

“Made a right mess, didn’t ya, bonnie?” Johnny chuckled. He picked you up with a grunt, his calloused fingers squeezing your soft flesh. “Price is pissed.”

“Me too,” Simon huffed. “Made us run through ‘alf the bloody mountain.”

“Should be thankin’ us,” Soap added. “Saved ya from that hackit.”

The only thing you thought about on the walk back was the fact that they thought it was funny. Your escape attempt, shooting Price, and offering to sell them out to that man. It was all just amusement. And they expected you to thank them.

By the time you all got to the property line, the sun was high in the sky and the two men were dripping sweat. The humidity had gotten worse, leaving all of your clothes soaked through. But for some reason, Kyle and Price stood next to a crackling fire. They were equally soaked but you weren’t sure if Price was hot from the heat or the unbridled fury in his eyes. Neither he nor Kyle even asked about the blood all over you, and Simon and Johnny neglected to tell them about the man that had been ripped apart.

You highly doubted they would care.

When Price stepped up to where you were — still in Johnny’s arms — you saw the bandage on his ear and another on his hand. Likely from the barrel burning him when you fired it.

“You took off half of my fucking ear,” he spat. “We gave you a home, and you shot off my ear and burned my hand.”

Despite the temperature, a chill crawled down your spine like a snake. “I wanted to leave,” was all you managed.

Price was not amused. He nodded to Kyle, who obediently came over and unsheathed a knife. Frantically, you kicked and thrashed, managing to escape for a brief moment before Simon grabbed you and forced your head down onto a tree stump.

“Eye for an eye, love,” Price sighed, almost disappointed.

You clawed at the ground for purchase, your heart pounding as you helplessly sunk your nails into the earth. Nothing. No miraculous aid or relief from the Green. Just the sound of the forest and the fire.

You thought about that man in the woods and how long he truly felt the pain before he died.

There was a thud when Kyle sliced your left ear off. Just as quickly as blood poured out, he had it stitched shut and wrapped in gauze. You stared at him like a confused sheep, mouth slightly open in a pathetic bleat and eyes blown wide. It was impossible to even process the pain because they were already moving again.

Johnny helped you sit upright and facing the fire, where a fireplace poker rested among the logs with the handle just out of the pit. By the time you noticed it, Simon was already grabbing your arm.

Words failed you. All you managed to do was sputter and stutter up at Price while tremors wracked your frame.

“Eye for an eye,” he repeated, this time showing off the bandage on his hand.

Somehow you knew that this would hurt more than the ear — which was now in a puddle of blood on the stump. You made a fist and dug your nails into your palm, determined not to let them burn you. Even your face was scrunched up in concentration. Still, Simon managed to peel your fingers open from the fist they were clenched into, and force them back.

“Bravery doesn’t suit you, love,” Price said, taking up the poker. He admired the way the metal glowed white and ticked as it slowly cooled. “It makes fools out of us, makes us think we can do more than we were made for.”

Your legs kicked out wildly, but he merely walked around to your side. “I’m sorry,” you panted, craning your head back to face him. “I didn’t— it was—

“We were all made with a purpose.” He pressed the poker to your open palm and pain ignited up your arm. You cried out, a broken and strangled sound, as the flesh seared and cooked. “Sometimes it just takes a while for us to understand that purpose.”

He finally pulled it away, leaving behind dark red, blistered skin. It was agony. Every twitch in your fingers and shift in your arm sent pain shooting through your wound.

As you stared at your disfigured palm, struggling to move, Price patted your head. It was such a cold, empty gesture but one that might have been comforting at a time, before whatever had been done to them was done.

You were carried back over the property line with a cool cloth pressed to your hand. This must have been how they got you back after the storm. The Green never stopped them that time, and certainly didn’t stop them this time.

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thevegaedit · 5 months ago

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Attraction 101: Confidence Over Desperation (pt 1)

Attraction Principle #2:

The women who have men climbing the walls for them aren't always exceptional. Often, they are the ones who don't appear to care that much.

This principle can feel nearly impossible to put into practice if you struggle with insecurities. But learning to embody it is essential.

Step One: Stop Chasing

Do not:

Call or text him first.

Seem needy or overly available.

Talk about how you’re dying to get married.

Plan dates for the two of you.

As Sherry Argov says, it’s about “holding your own in a relationship.”

You might be thinking:

“But I do want to get married! I don’t want to waste my time, so I should tell him my intentions upfront.”

“I just want to share about my day or ask him to share about his!”

I get it. I’ve been there. But unfortunately, doing any of these things sends a very different message. It signals desperation—that he already has you in the palm of his hand. This will only make him wonder just how much power he has over you, how much you’re willing to tolerate, just to keep him in your life. And the harsh truth? It will erode your self-esteem even further.

A Personal Story

When I was 21, I was in a relationship where my boyfriend literally said to my face: “I have you in the palm of my hand.”

At the time, I thought it was a wild thing to say. But deep down, I knew it was true. I thought I was in love. I believed I couldn’t do better, and he could sense my insecurity—my desperation to be loved and chosen. I thought that by being extra nice, doing more for him, and proving my love, he’d eventually love me back just as deeply. But that never happened. He just kept taking and taking, offering nothing in return.

To give you some perspective: he was a high school dropout, three years older than me. I was in college, working a higher-paying job, and thought this would make me valuable in his eyes. I believed, “Surely, he wouldn’t risk losing me. I’m great!” But despite these surface-level "advantages," he knew he was in control.

Why Confidence Matters

As Argov states, “Men need a mental challenge.” This doesn’t mean winning arguments or being more educated than him. It’s about exuding confidence and self-respect. He should know—without you ever saying it—that you’re not afraid to walk away if he disrespects you.

Here are some ways to avoid looking like you have lesser value in his eyes:

Don’t be too available. When he asks when he can see you, don’t say “anytime.” Don’t rearrange your plans to accommodate him. He needs to work around your schedule.

Don’t cancel plans for him. That yoga class, gym session, or time with friends? Keep them. Let him see you value your commitments.

No late-night hangouts. Avoid last-minute or late-night “come over” invites. It’s disrespectful. Politely decline and let him know you already have plans.

Don’t pay on dates. If he invites you out, let him pay. Kindly thank him for dinner with a smile. Don’t reach for your wallet—it sets the wrong precedent.

Lessons Learned the Hard Way

In my early 20s, I made the mistake of paying on dates. For instance, on my first date with Martin, I pulled out my wallet and paid for breakfast—even though he had asked me out. I thought I was making a statement about independence, challenging traditional gender roles. And while he was pleasantly surprised, it set the tone for our entire relationship. Once we started dating, he never offered to pay. He assumed I’d cover everything, and I did—for seven whole months.

Eventually, I grew tired of always giving. When I stopped, he was confused and upset because that’s what I had taught him to expect.

Final Thoughts

Remember, being confident and holding your own doesn’t mean playing games or pretending you don’t care. It means valuing yourself enough to let him show his interest through action, not just words. He needs to see that your time is valuable, your self-worth isn’t dependent on him, and you won’t settle for less than you deserve.

You are the prize. Never forget that.

#inspiration #motivation #positive mental attitude #whymenlovebitches #encouragement #self help #self love #sherryargov #self improvement

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transinatrade · 2 years ago

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The Beginning

It's been about a month.

If you couldn't guess by my URL, I am a trans person (FTM) who is entering the HVAC trade. This is for a few reasons.

As the economic crisis rapidly sends us streaming forward toward poverty, my entry level job was not making us (my partner and I) enough money anymore.

Gifted kid burnout caught up to me a long time ago, and with the affordability of college being completely impossible without loans I would never have a hope of paying back, I turned to trades as an option of higher education without the ridiculous price tag.

I am more of a hands on person. Sitting down at an office desk was never for me, and I'm not sure why I ever thought it would be. I want to get my hands dirty, and have a new adventure every day.

Why HVAC specifically? Good question. I was interested in trades in general, how things work has always fascinated me. HVAC was a matter of elimination. Medical was not for me, blood and high stakes stress me out and the cost of those courses are very high. I've already flunked out of engineering classes in high school so anything related to it was a no go. Welding was another good option, but with loud sounds and bright lights my autism and bad hearing were not going to have a good time. The last two I was considering were HVAC and electrical. Each excellent fields and I had high interest in both, so I applied for EMT which is a combination of both (electrical mechanical technician, not the medical worker).

Now a new issue arose, one I have dealt with my whole life.

I am transgender.

The current trans panic, living in the bible belt, not passing well, and the already intimidating trades were a lot to take in a navigate, but I believe I have been very fortunate.

The first step was shopping around for a school and being very up front with how I identify and the situation. Emailing schools made it easier to imagine the school as an entity rather than a collection of people each with their own political views that make them view me very differently. I was ghosted by a couple schools, I am unsure if this is because of my identity or if they thought I was a spammer, but for my sake I'd like to think it was the ladder.

I managed to get pell grants, a few scholarships, loans that are far smaller than they would be for a four year degree, and finally an approved application.

The first couple of months were intimidating, there is a lot to learn in a small amount of time and a recent head injury was not helping. However, I do not give up easily. I found that passing had never been more important to me than ever, and I'm not entirely sure why. Perhaps the far more masculine men around me make me feel more inadequate. Perhaps the trans panic has indeed instilled a terror in me of being clocked as trans far more than I originally thought. Perhaps it is simply paranoia and the unknown. Whatever the case, I've found myself taking more steps than I usually do to pass, including binding. I never really did befores since having covid binding has restricted my breathing when any strenuous activity is involved, my chest is not large to begin with, and the mentioned current economic crisis has made it impossible to save for top.

There have been a couple instances when I was misidentified as female, thankfully my voice saved me in that regard, but when I am stopped up due to the weather, it is not as convincing.

In one instance the wrong name was called (since I have been unable to change it) so I had to pretend like my name was simply not on the roster until I could correct the person in private, embarrassing everyone involved. My existence is very alien, so there is no system in place to change my name or inform staff other than by email or word of mouth. It is all very overwhelming.

Other than all of these moving parts, day to day has been very smooth. I can update in the future if there are any incidents or new challenges come up. Thank you for reading.

#transgender #trans masc #trans man #tech #trade #trade school #trade worker #transgenderfirst

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luxeor · 4 months ago

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Some woman I was friends with stopped talking to me for months because i expressed opinions she disagreed with and I dared to challenge her beliefs, I wanted to keep discussions going but it was clear she did not want to talk more cause I was proving her wrong and she didn't care much to defend her views, she then chose to run away and not answer my messages. In another occasion she expressed being "very tough on cowards", she assumed i was gonna pull cowardly stuff that she basically imagined so when i confronted her for assuming bad things about me she once again ran away, only to appear months later pretending like nothing had happened and still assuming things that aren't true. She said she liked someone who tells it like it is and stands their own ground, but clearly that was just in theory and not in practice. She constantly victimized herself for being a woman and had many paranoias about men, i attempted to calm her fears but it's impossible when you reach this level of distortion and self-delusion. Other times I'd start conversation on stuff she was interested in but she would not answer at all. Ultimately I ghosted her since it was clear she didn't like me more and was useless confronting her, only for her to come months later to call me a coward for ghosting her and say she left me hanging for months because I became draining to talk to since she disagreed with my views and didn't confront me cause i'm unreasonable/not able to take criticism well, like, the hypocrisy of this woman was incredible, am I the coward? am i the unreasonable one? the one who can't take criticism? I have to laugh.

I'm only writing this to let steam off cause i'm still embarrassed i ever let someone like this even be my friend, she was the queen of assumptions, misunderstandings and bad reading comprehension, her level of projection and self-delusion was unparalleled, it is a type of stupidity i had never dealt with on someone, the women i know have way more ovaries than she did and when they make mistakes they fix them, she never did but perhaps in her head she thought she was doing a lot. Either way, she's a good example of what happens when you let fear take over you and try to deny it as much as possible, you will not realize how much it controls you but others definitely will and they will judge you, better not fall for it ever, feel it definitely but ultimately you have to dominate it so it doesn't distort your reality.

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casspurrjoybell-23 · 4 months ago

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Friday Night - Chapter 20 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

How do you overdress on a snow day?

It should be impossible.

Yet parked in front of a children's playground, Hunter Dannings feels completely overdressed.

All he'd worn was a winter jacket with some jeans but he was a man who enjoyed layering so the gloves seemed like a good idea but he also saw a spot of neck peeking out from his pompous fur-lined Root's coat so he wrapped a scarf around it as well but watching the children run around the park... a strange thing for an adult man to be thinking... Hunter looked as layered up as any other child there.

Despite not having an overprotective mom dressing him.

It was embarrassing and a little demoralizing but River and Melodie were already standing off to the side, looking around for Hunter's tall frame, so he had to do this.

Hunter stepped out of the car and raised his hand to wave.

Then, at the last second, he tore off his scarf and threw it into the car.

"Hunter," hearing his name, Hunter's stomach fell.

He was caught red-handed.

Of course someone noticed his frantic outfit modification and called him out on it.

Yet, when he turned around, everything made a lot more sense.

A pink blur was running into his stomach.

Melodie's hug was incredibly tight despite having to squeeze through down feathers, a sweater and two shirts.

Hunter crouched down to hug her as best as he could and by the time she let go, he was eye level with the small human.

"Are you going to play with us?" she asked, slightly out of breath.

Remembering how far away her and River stood when Hunter spotted them last, it made sense she was tired after sprinting over to his car.

"Yes I am," he grinned.

Hunter unconsciously straightened her hat, making sure it covered her dark brown ears.

"I want you to show me all the games you know."

"I don't think we have enough time for that," she retorted with her kid brow quirked up high.

"But I'll try."

Hunter started walking the six year old back to the park and River met them halfway.

They saw each other most weekdays and had almost reached a double digit number of kisses... Hunter was anal about keeping count... but this greeting felt especially awkward.

Hugging a man you were romantically interested in front of his child felt oddly intimate.

As if feeling the same way, River settled for a zero contact wave.

"I'm glad you could make it."

"I'm glad to be here," Hunter earnestly replied.

He'd once again questioned if he could actually forgo work for an afternoon play date but River's stoney expression the first time he said no wouldn't leave Hunter's mind and the department leads were unfazed by the extra tasks.

So here he was, over bundled and being dragged through the snow by someone half his height.

Hunter eyed the playground structure and braced himself for the embarrassment that would come from two grown men trying to invade the jungle gym but Melodie skirted right past the cute playground.

She walked them deeper into the park, plowing through the snow like a woman on a mission.

When the children's screaming was only a distant background noise, Melodie finally stopped.

"This is where we'll play the games," she announced proudly.

Hunter looked to River but the older man was just sighing under his breath.

Which didn't seem like a good sign to Hunter.

Within minutes, Hunter came to regret his earlier words. Melodie was smart.

Too smart to forget someone challenging her to recall every game she'd ever played.

Since twenty years had passed since Hunter was the same age, he'd assumed that 'all the games you know' meant tag and duck duck goose.

Melodie was introducing games like Cat and Mouse and Alaskan Baseball... which they could barely complete with three people.

Weekly soccer games no longer seemed enough when Hunter was sprinting through Torontonian snow.

Hunter's luck was unbelievable.

He'd grown concerned over the past several years, watching snow levels get lower and lower.

Yet this year, the snow was almost overwhelming, a couple inches from Hunter's knees and plenty deep for a small child.

Melodie was unfazed by the snow, giggling and screaming anytime she fell into its depths.

That was probably how she never stopped moving and Hunter found it harder and harder to keep up.

It was a truly embarrassing look for the man since River was often right behind him, laughing at his exhaustion.

"Help me," Hunter's wheezed words came from the ground after his buckling knees pulled him into the snow.

River stared at the younger man... cropped hair damp from exertion, cheeks bright red from the cold... and laughed.

"Nope."

Toward the end of their play, Melodie introduced a game Hunter could get behind.

Red light, green light... a simple game that allowed Hunter to move as much or as little as he wanted.

Little was obviously his preferred option between the two.

Melodie rushed to cover as much ground as possible when River's back was turned, treating the snow like olympic hurdles in the way of her gold medal.

Hunter, on the other hand, just sat and watched.

He was incredibly grateful for the break his lungs received.

"You're it," the words zoomed past Hunter's ear, said by a man running much faster than Hunter expected in freezing conditions.

Hunter watched River jog to stop a few feet past him.

He was a bit confused because Melodie wasn't ahead of him.

In fact, the little girl was just now running past Hunter, a gleeful smile on her face.

"Daddy, you were supposed to tag me because I was closer," she explained.

Her tone was so exacerbated, it seemed as if she had to explain such distinctions many times before.

"I'm sorry, Melodie," River apologized, his eyes straying to Hunter's shocked form.

"I just thought Hunter would like to be it."

Hunter glared recklessly at River who ignored his fiery gaze with a smile.

"That's okay, Daddy. We all get confused."

The younger man was certain Melodie found pleasure in bossing them around.

She was far too happy to yell... 'Get in your positions' when Hunter walked... not ran...towards the 'stoplight' spot.

Hunter would admit that it was fun to see what pose they were frozen in everytime he said

"Red light."

While Melodie considered herself a professional, she was always shaking when Hunter turned around.

After the first time he saw it, Hunter just had to catch River's eyes to realize that the little girl had an exclusive pass.

So Hunter would turn back around and keep the game going.

A bony finger shoved Hunter hard enough to make him stumble and Hunter was certain that Melodie was too short to do it.

So he started to run.

River had an enormous advantage being that he was the only other adult in the race.

Yet, when Hunter reached out a hand to touch Melodie, River was in the way, grabbing at his chest and pulling him away.

"Hey, I was going to tag her," Hunter laughed, untangling himself from River's gloved hands.

"Well I just stopped you," River chuckled in response.

His eyes were cheeky, a daring addition to his soft smile.

"What are you going to do about it?"

He fell into the snow with a quiet 'oof' when Hunter pushed him.

Hunter followed him into the snow, just to see the look on his face when he realized what Hunter did but the man wasn't surprised.

There was just a small smile and eyes that wouldn't stop falling down to Hunter's lips.

In minus fifteen degree weather, surrounded by copious amounts of snow, all Hunter felt was heat.

River's ice cold fingers grabbed his upper thigh and dragged up.

A visible cloud of breath carried the sound Hunter made.

River's eyes narrowed and Hunter swallowed deeply.

"River."

"Dogpile..." Melodie screamed happily as she jumped on top of the two men.

Nothing Hunter experienced in the future could ever top the relief he felt in that moment.

Relief that Melodie seemed to have no idea what her dad was doing only seconds before.

It wasn't Melodie's weight that made the dogpile unbearable. It was the feeling of her elbows and knees digging into Hunter's back as she cackled joyously.

Being a good friend to this child would not come at the expense of his vertebrae.

River noticed how Hunter's face contorted in pain and used his dad voice to make Melodie get off.

Melodie was only six years old and Hunter was certain that her empathy shouldn't be a hundred percent loaded at this age.

Yet, she understood two adults perfectly when she said.

"Let's get hot cocoa."

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faces-ofvenus · 3 years ago

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Hi!

I love your works

Can I request ‘y/n’s first time’ with hod mans(Aemond,Aegon,Daemon,etc)

Thanks!

This will be split into two parts, so I'm aching to write with Jace and Luke included.

Warnings: sexual and pornographic content up, do not read if you are underage, or do not like that kind of content.

As we all know Daemon is an experienced man, who knows what he wants, he knows how he likes to be pleasured, and frankly knows how to please men and women, but knowing that it would be your first time, and the fact that he would have feelings for you, he would try not to be so rough, focusing entirely on your pleasure, he would probably be the kind of man who would do foreplay, he would like to show you that even though he is your first, you will never need a second man or woman in your life, he will stimulate you and eat you like you are the tastiest thing in the world, and will only come out from between your legs, after you beg him to take you in, and only then he will make you his, he is not a man of kissing lips at the time of sex, he is more focused on other parts of your body, he would like to mark you, in fact every Targaryen in my opinion has problems with hickeys, Daemon is just extremely on another level, thighs, belly, breasts, neck, collarbone, just everywhere, visible or not, the position that I think he would take you seriously missionary, at least in a first moment, I also think that he has a certain stimulation with pain, if you scratch his back, he will go faster and harder, as a challenge to him, and only stops when he knows that one, he has cum so much inside you, that simply your pregnancy would be impossible not to happen, and until he convinces himself that you know to whom your pussy belongs from now on.

With Aegon it's a different place, he doesn't really care about being a sweet and cautious person, if he already feels feelings for you, he might try, a bit of a failed attempt I would say, I also realize that he has never fucked anyone, because he simply doesn't care about the pleasures of maids and whores, so this would be something he would deepen as time went on, I sense that he likes the doggy style, he likes to mark your ass with slaps, and scratches, he likes to see how his cock enters you, how it feels like you are swallowing it, it makes him so horny, he likes to hear you moaning and begging, he gives you a lot of compliments by the way, none of them really are cute, he calls you a little whore and how crazy you are for his cock, and by the way this is not a lie, he knows how to hit you, it seems like he wants to discover every corner of you, he stops and starts again just to leave you needy and waiting for him, he was not one to mark women, but he really likes to bite you, he bites your breasts, and shoulders, sucks your neck, and whispers dirty things in your ear, like where else could he fuck you, he finds it so exciting if you like to mark him, he wouldn't mind by the way, there's something about it, that just drives him crazy, you would do it for a few rounds, until he just felt satisfied, satisfied that he ruined you, and that now finally you were all his.

With Aemond things could go for fun ways, his relationships mainly sexual were not the best, his first time itself, for him it was disgusting, what he just wouldn't want for you, he would take off his eye patch, showing and being naked for you completely, he is not the best at eating a woman, but for you he would do it, and the more you felt good, the hungrier he seemed to get, he just wanted to please you, his starting position would be cowgirl, because something about you jumping on top of him turns him on, your breasts he squeezes, imagining how they will be when you are pregnant with his child, even you on top he would dictate everything, the speed and the force, he doesn't want to hurt you, but at the same time, your face in a mix of pleasure and pain makes his cock harder than ever before, he would first make you cum, as everything for him is a two way street, he would like that one hour, you would be swallowing his cock with your mouth, something about marking your face with his cum, your face all covered with it, your body, he just wants to mark you, leave you smelling of him, he may start out wanting only your first to be the best, but in reality he just wants to ruin you, he's not one for marking, but strong hair pulling, unlike Aegon he doesn't whisper the things he wants to do with you, he speaks in a loud and clear voice, just to be sure, he likes to speak several and several times, just to make it clear to you when you belong to him, there's no telling how many rounds Aemond, would do, only when he feels that you really are fucked up enough already.

#hotd #reader #hotd x reader #reader insert #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon

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rcksmith · 4 years ago

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Desire — Kaz Brekker

(Photo not mine)

Requests: “Hello there! I've been around this blog for a bit now and you are an amazing writer! I was wondering if you would be ok with doing something with 21 28 & 29 from the smut prompts and kaz brekker? If you are uncomfortable please just ignore this!”

“Kaz brekker Smut prompts 28 66?? Love you💖!!”

“I can request Kaz smut prompts 29?❤️”

Smut prompts:

21. “Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.”

28. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

29. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

66. “You know I don’t like to be teased.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of shot, mention of desire, desire, mention of smut, explicit smut, NSFW.

Word count: 3k

A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.

I hope you like💕 English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — —

There was something about you. Something impossible to decipher, with a glow hovering around you like a electrical energy. Wrapping your whole body in a cloak of magnetism. There was something about the way you spoke, walked, laugh. Something about what it was like to be you, in your beauty and mysteries like a sphinx.

Something that made Kaz Brekker completely furious.

You couldn't be more distorted from the image, in Kaz's mind, than what was to be a peaceful woman. Calm, controled, with steel emotions and wit in eyes. Someone who, like him, knew how to dance the waltz of negotiation, manipulation, who could blend in with the shadows and know the best time to listen more than speak.

You were not like Inej, you were not like Jesper. Hell, you were like nobody Kaz has known in all of his 28 years.

Nothing reminiscent of calm and control would be used to describe what it meant to be you.

Your soul are stormy, loud, obstinate, too stubborn and too talkative. You needed to speak loudly, laugh, move, expose your opinions to the seven winds and to whoever listened the most. You needed to question, inquire, doubt and test the limits of any situation. A direct order for you would be an affront to your free and independent spirit. A command that would curtail your freedom or tame your strong genius was almost like an invitation for you to do exactly the opposite of what they had ordered you to do.

So, for a man of trained reasoning, subtly balanced world, and who was used to his every command being followed vehemently and promptly in blind obedience, such a personality like you was like introducing a disturbing factor capable of shaking all his judgments. Sand in a watch, or stone in a shoe, would be no more a nuisance than a strong nature like your.

The extraordinary stubbornness and mania to counter his orders - when, in your words, they were unreasonable - had made you different from all the women Brekker had ever met. Kaz liked challenges and responsibilities, a good puzzle, but you were on a level far beyond that.

You were a danger to his peace of mind. And you knew that. All his aversion to your indomitable spirit only served as fuel for your own mission in to piss him off. Few men were like Kaz Brekker, you knew that, with a strength of character too powerful to be ignored. He was not just comfortable in his position of authority as he was obviously unable to act in any other way than as a leader. His stoic figure and always so contained in a wall of indifference made you want to ruffle his hair to see if you could remove any emotion. And being a girl who hasn't always liked leaders, Kaz Brekker was a huge temptation. Few moments had been better than those that you managed to piss him off beyond what he could handle.

However, all the reasons why the two of you were so exasperating for each other, did not explain why the air crackled in ambiguity when your eyes met. The hemisphere was adorned in a thought-provoking, poignant veil, like a warm honey flowing down its throat, and there was something else in the way blood flowed like flames of fire through veins of you two.

Jesper said that the sexual tension between you was so tangible that it could be cut by one of Inej's knives, but you refused to think of Kaz that way. At least until that moment.

Not pure images of what the infamous Brekker could do to you between four walls swept you like the strong Arabian wind. Making you be surprisingly breathless. Kaz was not a man whose private life was exposed, nor was he involved with many women, but you have heard two or three of them when they were drunk saying that Kaz Brekker in the room could be incendiary.

Everyone knew that his touch reserve didn't limit him to anything, but that his job was at the top of the priority list and that sexual encounters were almost never on that list.

"It was not my fault!” Jesper defended himself one night, slightly drunk, sitting at the club's round table next to the other crows “I didn't know he was married to another man! That damn pretty face seduced me!”

"Did he seduce you?" You asked, skeptical and playful.

"I swear to God! And it had been a long time since I had sex with anyone, and I went… ”

“But you did sex last week." Inej laughed, chocked.

"Exactly!" Jesper said, as if he were obvious.

You laughed with your beer glass in your hand, taking another sip.

“Is a week a long time to not sleep with anyone?" Matthias retorted, trying not to laugh.

“Are you going to tell me that is not?” Jesper and Nina spoke at the same time.

“If a man has time for sex more than once a week, he clearly doesn't have much to do. And I'm sure I gave Jesper a lot of tasks that would keep him busy.” Kaz narrowed his eyes at his friend, and Jesper hid his guilt behind the rim of his beer glass, looking to the side.

"So you are saying that you are a very busy man?" You teased, trying not to laugh at the scathing look Kaz sent you.

"I disagree. The values of hard work and discipline cannot match the hot body of a woman in bed.” Matthias said, exchanging a brief conspiratorial look with Nina, who winked at him.

"There are more important things." Said Kaz.

"Like what?" You rested your chin on the back of the hand whose elbow was on the table, the playful look of a rebellious student.

"Progress." Kaz held your gaze.

He wasn't going to take your bait. But you didn't give up easy.

"Tell me, if God gave you a deal: all the hunger in the world would be extinguished in exchange for you never being able to have sex again, what would you choose?" your eyes had a teasing feline glow.

At that moment, Kaz felt a shiver up the back of his neck, like a warm breath of autumn. Something crawled, like a snake, across his rib cage and down to his groin, pumping blood like fire through his veins.

He held your gaze, but the feline glow in your eyes promised to contain the most ardent sins. Suddenly, Kaz's mind was flooded by the wave of obscene images of you, on his bed; moaning, squirming, shouting his name and being very obedient with every order he gave you.

He would make you such a good girl...

"I don't believe in God." He replied succinctly, the predator's eyes still in your eyes audacious feline's.

A big, satisfied smile spread across your face, and you said: "As I thought. Bad luck for hungry people.”

Realizing that he had fallen right into your cunning trap, Kaz got rid of your diabolical magnetism and cursed.

“I didn't say…” he stopped, impatient “It doesn't matter. I have more important things to do than waste time here.”

But the smile you hid behind the glass was noticeable to Kaz.

After that night, the crackling, gasping flame that circled the two of you intensified to alarming levels. Kaz could feel you holding your breath when he was too close, and you could see him squeezing his cane harder when you sweetened your voice for him.

However, regardless of Kaz's wanted to fold you at a table and put an end to your brat girl pose, enjoying the groans he was sure you would let out, the two of you still fought like dog and cat.

Just as it was now.

“What do you mean, I'm not going?!” You looked at Kaz, amazed, when he told you that you would not participate in the robbery that week “I know that security system like the back of my hand!”

It was true, what you had of stubbornness, you had of technological intelligence. There was no computer that you would not hack, a program that you would not hack, and a system that you would not unlock. Your genius with technology made up for all your lack of obedience.

But Kaz ignored. “I've already told you. It's a more dangerous mission than you're used to and we don't have time for the plans you come up with right away.” He needled you.

“Are you referring to Switzerland?” You were never anything short of direct and inquiring. It was logical that you would question every orden. “But I already told you that when the alarm went off your plan didn't work anymore! I was more useful inside to deactivate the alarm than waiting outside.”

And stubborn. Holy God, how stubborn you were!

"And it cost you to get shot."

"But it was just a shot!"

Kaz looked at you, puzzled. “Just?! And wasn't it enough ?! You put the whole team at risk!”

“But if I hadn't deactivated the alarm, we would all be arrested! And only I knew how to do that!”

"My fucking God, isn't there a speck of common sense in you?!"

But you answered boldly: "Not when you impose clueless plans on me."

Mortified would be an understatement to describe how he was now. What an unbearable creature! Kaz felt the anger spread from his neck to his face, igniting his breath and squinting his eyes in annoyance.

Why was it so difficult for you to follow a simple goddamn rule?!

“Besides, your initial plan was flawed and there was no reason for me to be out when it was necessary inside and...” And you kept talking!

If you had noticed Kaz's completely enraged state in front of you, you would have been scared, shut up and ran. But, truth be told, Kaz suspected that even if you knew how to read the murderous humor in his eyes, you wouldn't have left that office. Much less be afraid. You could argue with the demon. And you would probably beat him out of tiredness.

However, regardless of the desire to shake you up, to see if that put any good sense in you, in that second, watching you gesture with your hands, defending your point of view as if it were the england queen's crown, something swept Kaz's body from the top of his head with dark hair to the tips of his illustrated boots.

The sound of the world was drowned out by the flow of blood itself in his veins. His heart hammered hard in his chest and, in that instant, a sharp sting in his groin and the pit of his stomach set him on fire.

His gaze went down to your mouth, which kept moving. And when it came up to your eyes, your stubborn and defiant gaze sent Kaz's rationality into space. He dropped the cane abruptly, which toppled to the floor with a hollow crack, and advanced towards you in firm and determined steps.

Gluing his gloved hands to your face, Kaz silenced all your protests with a strong kiss. Hot, fiery, domineering. The kind of kiss that held years of camouflaged desire, years of irritability, years of an unnerving desire to make you shut up with all the perverse forms that existed.

You weren't afraid of him. But you should. You should if you knew everything he wanted to do with you.

However, as if you have been burning in the same desire for years, you responded to that kiss with the same urgency. The same hunger. Kaz slipped his hands into your hair, closing his fingers there and deepening the kiss with ferocity. He felt beside himself, like a hungry wild animal that had been denied food for years and that only now had its teeth set on its prey. You moaned against his lips, bringing your hands to his lean, strong biceps, squeezing your fingers there.

You both needed air, but neither seemed to give a damn about that. Misted of desire that burned like a fire in their bodies, Kaz pushed the two of you backwards, slamming your back against the wall and swinging a frame beside. You gasped, and the gesture made it possible for Kaz to invade your mouth with his tongue, hunting every piece of hot meat. You two fought the same battle in that kiss: invade, dominate, conquer.

They both wanted to take the waltz, but Kaz would never let you conduct the show.

He pulled your wrists up, pinning them with one hand against the wall, leaving you immobile while sinking his mouth further into yours. Kaz felt you try to get rid of his tight grip, but he was stronger than you. And much more when he have a objective.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He murmured against your mouth, the tip of his tongue playing with your bottom lip. “You know I don’t like to be teased.”

Was impossible for you to control the loud moan that escaped. Your body trembling with desire, your legs wobbly, your wet core vibrating with his words. Kaz Brekker was a fallen angel. With a beauty and charm you've never been immune to.

How can you think you'd win the dominance game with him?

And, like the fallen angel he was, his smug and arrogant smile painted the corner of his lips when he saw what his lines did to you.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” Kaz mocked “If I knew it was only necessary to do this for you to shut up...” he brought his lips closer, his voice hitting yours “I would have fucked you like the naughty brat you have been a long time.”

If his caustic and maddening kisses hadn't been enough to break you in half, that statement would have done all the work.

In that second, you hoisted your white flag, biting your lip in a needy moan and closing your eyes for a second by the overwhelming vibration of your core. God, you needed more. Whatever he gave you. Anything he wanted to give you. You just needed more.

"Are you going to be good?" He played with the dough you were in his hands, his devilish mouth going down your neck, leaving a trail of fire and debris wherever he went.

You agreed, desperately. “Yes, Sir."

That title seemed to do things with Kaz. Because in the next second, his mouth was back on your. More urgent, more needy, more dominating. You shifted your hips for more friction with his, and Kaz rewarded your obedience by pulling one of your thighs forward, making your skirt go up, aligning your thigh on his hips and giving access for his member to fit perfectly against your pulsating core.

You moaned louder this time. Fingers clenching, heart pumping frantically. Kaz pulled his lips away from you for a second, taking his hand off your thigh and bringing it to your mouth.

“Pull.” He ordered, referring to the glove.

You murmured a low, excited moan, bringing your mouth to the glove and clenching your teeth on the cloth at the top of his middle finger. Satisfied, Kaz pulled his hand back, watching the alabaster skin peel away from the leather fabric. As soon as he was free, he removed the glove from your mouth, replacing it with his own and stealing all your breath in that fiery kiss.

His free hand wandered over your thigh, touching you for the first time with a touch that promised to show you all the most delicious and secret sins in the world. His tongue wrapped around your again, and the moan you let out was even greater when his long fingers brushed against your wet, throbbing core.

"S-sir!" You sobbed, your hips rocking against his hand, desperate for more.

"Look at you." His fire voice beat against your lips, the tightness against your wrists getting stronger, more possessive "I’ ve only started using my fingers and you ’re already shaking"

Your body cried out in unbridled desire, sobs mingling with loud moans and heavy sighs as Kaz tormented you with his fingers. He touched you, slid, opened and sank, increasing the volume of your pleas.

“P-please" You begged, the body in need, the urge too urgent.

Kaz looked you in the eye, a dark, malicious gleam burning in his Egyptian blue irises. "Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" He teased you.

But you no longer cared about his teasing. With your lips swollen and red, your heart racing and the core pulsing in despair on his experienced fingers, you were already surrendered.

"Please. I n-need." You mumbled submissively, rummaging your hips in his hand.

"I bet if I wanted to fuck you against my desk, here and now, you would be very happy to do it, wouldn't you?"

He was foisting all of his dominance on you, bending you to your knees for him. And you knew that. You knew he was taking years of anger out on you. But you couldn't care less. You wanted him. Ardently. Desperately. And if it was a good girl Kaz wanted, damn it, you would be a good girl for him.

You readily agreed, your eyes shining in supplication.

“Good.” Kaz pulled you brutally off the wall, turning you over to the table and pushing your chest against the icy wood, pulling your hips at him. “Because that's exactly what is going to happen.”

Suddenly, desire and hunger roared like a wild beast. Kaz watched you, bent over his desk, obedient, surrendered, offering every inch of your body to him.

His breath was burning in his throat and it was no longer possible to order his thoughts, contain his euphoria. He would fuck you so hard that it would make that memory the only thought when you remembered him. When you dare to rebut his orders.

Kaz pulled you skirt up and your panties down, letting out a groan that sounded more like a growl as he saw your wet core. Pulsing and desperate for him. For anything he wanted to give you. It sparked a fervent desire that Brekker had never felt in his life, devastating any possibility of thinking about anything other than fucking you.

Playing with your fingers in your slick, wet folds, you whimpered again, the core pulsing whenever he teased you inside, pressing his fingertips there but never entering.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" His voice came over the top of your shoulder, hoarse, animalistic, full of profane desires.

"Please." You were quick to beg “I do what you want! But just...please, please… ”

You already felt your eyes watering from over-stimulation, your heart burning so hard it was beating, your core aching from emptiness.

You sealed the end of the game between you. Kaz had won. In a triumphant checkmate.

And you didn't have to beg again. Barely seeing when he unbuttoned his pants, you just reasoned his hard, hot, pulsating member by opening your from the inside. Claiming everything that was yours as his in a strong, desperate, hungry lunge.

"S-sir!" You screamed, your nails scraping the wood from the table, the core pulsing overwhelmingly around his rigid member.

In a more badly lunge, Kaz sank completely into you, moaning loudly as he hit rock bottom. The gloved hand slid over your shoulder, propelled you to him while the bare hand tightened on your waist, hitting you at a steady, raw, animalistic rhythm.

The sounds were pornographic, dirty and loud, echoing off the walls. The air was hot like molten lava, pungent and muffled, driving you two lost breath. Their bodies clashed as if the world was going to end tomorrow, in aggressive, rough thrusts. These were thrusts that made half of his things on the table fall to the floor, mixing in a mess that would serve as a reminder later about the sinful activities you two did.

You screamed when Kaz took on more force, his fingers squeezing you so hard that they would leave you with marks on your shoulder and waist the next day.

"Fucking hell!" Kaz snarled between his teeth, feeling your flesh throb around him, squeezing he with such desperation that he knew you were close.

You sobbed, tears streaming down the corners of your eyes as you pushed your ass towards him, trying to bring him as deep as possible, as deep inside you as possible. But every time his pelvis smashed into your ass, a loud moan and the feeling of being completely full drowned you.

You begged, pleaded, for something you didn't know. But Kaz seemed to know. Taking both hands to your hips, your pace became even more unperturbed, pushing you to the limit until you cum in a scream in his name, your lungs on fire. Kaz came close behind, sinking as deep as possible and pouring all the hot liquid into you. Almost like a brand.

The air was filled with sex, lust and desire, filled only by the sound of their ragged breaths that struggled to stabilize.

You were still panting when Kaz's voice came after you: "Whatever I want, don't I?"

A deal with the devil.

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staticl0ve · 3 years ago

Text

The Boy Next Door: You Drive Me Crazy - Pt.2 * (Nines x Reader)

Parings: Human!Nines / Female Reader Rating: Explicit/ NSWF 18+ Chapters (AO3): [ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ] Tumblr Links: Part 1, Part 2 Word Count: 6.3k (oh boy, 🌶) Warnings: smut, car smut, fingering, oral (M! And F!reciving), mild size kink Summary: Cain’s greatest challenge yet: himself. Has he grown over the years and become a more well rounded man or does he need a push?

It’s magical when friendships withstand the test of time, two souls molding around changes. When a pair has known each other for so long, it’s impossible for one to part and not think of their other half. Luckily for these two friends, Luther and Cain remained close for their University years, inseparable even.

It was the most anticipated party hosted by a finals club at Harvard: the Spee Clubhouse graduation party. Cain refused to join a fraternity. So when Luther first picked this finals club, he made a joke about choosing it solely for its mascot which was a bear. He elbowed Cain and said he could recycle his Detroit Bear shirts from high school. There was one problem with his reasoning and his best friend was quick to point it out.

“If you’re hoping to wear your old clothes, the colors are all wrong,” Cain replied, sparing a glance at the red and gold flag fluttering over the Spee club mantle.

“Hmm, I still like the fuzzy guy,” Luther mused while standing at eye level to a gigantic wooden bear carving. “We’re joining!”

It was a life changing decision made one masters degree ago. Today, the worst of dubstep wubbed through a set of massive speakers, the subwoofers rattling the masonry and testing the fluid dynamics in the drinks. With the club opening its doors to a party, Luther was able to invite a few friends and most importantly, drag Cain to enjoy one last college core memory.

They were hanging around the edges of the party, a pair of men framed by a moonlit window. Luther was trying to make small talk while Cain was lying to himself about not observing the commotion at the beer pong table—his face turned to the window when really, he was side-eyeing the game.

A group crowded the table, hollering and spilling beer all over the hardwood floor. His gaze was fixed on a gap between the bodies, the player that was riling up the crowd. Beneath an old chandelier twinkling out golden light was you, biting your lip in concentration as you lined up your next ball bounce.

From Cain’s right, Luther sighed, his arm dipping from holding up his drink.

“Nines, man. This is getting ridiculous. You’ve got to stop staring and try clearing the air with her.”

Things were actually getting better between the two of you with six years of college ‘friendship’, if one could call it that. It meant Cain outgrew some of the tough restrictions he made for himself. If anything, you guys were getting along recently at Luther’s birthday party which happened to fall on New Years Eve.

It was your first NYE with no date in what felt like forever and Cain was in the same boat, the two of you finally single at the same time. Like any party that Luther hosted at his and Cain’s apartment, there was music, abandoned booze cups scattered on different surfaces (which would drive Cain insane during clean up), and snack bowls that magically refilled whenever Kara appeared in a room.

Cain found you on the balcony of his shared apartment, your back to him as you leaned against the railing to catch the city’s fireworks show blasting off into the night sky. He was distracted the moment his gaze fell on your dress and the thin straps that crossed over your back. You turned when he cleared his throat to signal his entrance, a new habit he picked up around you. There were too many repeated instances with you turning a corner and walking straight into his chest and he had the nerve to say you lacked situational awareness.

“I heard Luther’s going back to Detroit with Kara,” you said. You made an effort to seem light and playful, adding your hand to your hip with a sway. “Still feel like getting trapped inside a metal box with me again?”

The corner of his lip lifted into a smirk. “That really depends if your taste in music has improved.”

“Oh my god, Cain, let it go. I was eighteen and that high school musical was everybody’s favorite movie,” you groaned back at him.

“I’m sure the CIA plays it on repeat as a method of torture,” he replied.

He closed the distance between you in a few steps, leaning his large frame over the railing to gaze off into the distance. A couple of loud pops and colorful lights showered the skies before he spoke up again, turning his back to the city.

“We can carpool,” he said. His elbows spread out on the railing, irritatingly man-spreading until he was close enough to put his weight on one elbow, his face at eye level to yours.

“Great—“

“If I get full control over the music,” he added.

“Fine.” Your eyes were locked with his, neither of you willing to budge even when the fireworks show intensified in the distance. Nothing could turn your heads, nothing, save for the sweet voice that belonged to Kara.

“Are you two ready for the countdown?” She interrupted, giddily hopping from the sliding doors and over to you. A confetti party popper was placed into the palm of your hand and one in Cain’s.

“As ready as I’ll ever be?” You replied while watching her blue eyes shift suggestively from you to Cain.

“Don’t forget the New Year’s kiss,” she said with a wink and vanished through the sliding doors.

A countdown starting from ten began with the guests inside, their eyes glued to a television set with a giant disco ball. You slowly stepped away from Cain, heavily suggesting that you were about to join the rest of the party.

“Oh, we uh…we don’t have to,” you stammered.

“What are you afraid of?” He challenged.

“Afraid? You ass, I’m not—“ you scoffed, “It’s just a kiss.”

A kiss with a guy who spent most of your time together alternating between glaring, smirking and varying forms of the silent treatment. At this rate, you were certain Cain had no other mode besides, moody. Although, most of it may have been caused by your endless gloating at game nights. Look, if anyone else managed to best him, they too, would rub it in his smug, handsome face.

“Five!” The crowd shouted.

“Just a kiss,” he emphasized with a smirk.

“Four!”

He relaxed back on the railing, his black turtleneck stretching over the expanse of his chest, sleeves tightening around his biceps. As if he knew how good he looked, he had the audacity to run one hand through his dark hair, a challenge sparking behind his eyes. Your shoulders slumped, chest heaving underneath the low neckline of your dress and walked up to him.

“Three!” The group continued.

“Okay,” you agreed, your eyes narrowing suspiciously at him.

Three seconds never felt longer, the pauses between every shout dragging out as he pushed off the railing to bend over you. You still used the same rose shampoo, he realized.

Scent often has a way of triggering memories, like how fresh baked cookies has a way of making any space feel warm and cozy. For Cain, roses would always remind him of a time when he learned that love with all of its greatness, was no match for the sorrow that followed. He was still mourning when he decided he was better off working on his mental fortitude and physical prowess, their measurements more tangible in grades and trophies. It left no time for the abstract, but somehow he’d always end up back here, temping fate by standing inches apart from you with every nerve in his limbs coaxing him towards the void. The unknowable. The intangible.

With his free hand, he cupped your jaw with a touch that precariously felt more forceful than gentle, lifting your face to his. In the background, you could make out the muffled cry of the number two as his large silhouette darkened with every burst of light behind him.

“One,” he announced and then his lips crashed into yours.

What was supposed to be a short peck became a long, drawn out exchange of mouths sloppily crushing years of pent up desire. The kiss nearly brought him to his knees, his fingers unsteady around your chin as he eagerly pried your lips open. You responded with an unexpected tenderness, smearing red over his lips and going limp in his arms. Years of human mating rituals, also known as intuition, brought his arm around you until you were nestled between his sculpted chest like two pieces of a puzzle clicking together.

A puzzle he refused to complete.

Memories he had repressed broke through the surface: how right you felt against him during prom and the hike back to camp when you dozed off in his arms, the scent of roses tying the loose strands of his life together.

Love, Cain. Love will make you strong.

He tore away from you like you were a live wire, immediately making his exit through the sliding doors and leaving you behind, breathless and confused.

“Cain! What the hell…?” You asked the empty space where he once stood.

He was back to ignoring you for the rest of spring semester and it only gave you flashbacks to your high school days. Even Luther wasn’t able to piece together what had happened with his best friend but he had an inkling that it involved romance which was Cain’s kryptonite. He was a bit like Leonardo DiCaprio in the sense that he dropped his dates the moment they wanted something serious and spoke of a future beyond college. But you two weren’t dating and it was like he said: just a kiss.

This graduation party would be the last chance to smooth things out before you and Cain would be on the road.

“You’re gonna be traveling together. Nines, are you planning to sit in silence the whole time?” Luther asked.

“Not silence, the radio will be on,” Cain answered dismissively while finally ripping his gaze away from you.

“Uh-huh,” Luther replied with a skeptical grin.

“Yes!” You shouted as your opponent downed the last of her drink.

Kara shook her head and held her hand out, “Okay, n-no more beer pong. I t-think I’m out!”

Your eyes softened when you watched her stumble back and brought an arm around her shoulders. You glanced at your cup and sure enough, it was barely touched. Maybe you could have gone easier on your friend but you swore this was all she had since the party started.

“Alright, let’s get you water and a seat with your big o’ teddy bear,” you suggested while tugging her towards the two men beside a window. “Luther!”

“That’s my cue,” he said to Cain with a loud slap to his back. In one swoop, he took Kara out of your arms and to the nearest source of water. Out of sight, there was a set of winks exchanged between them as it was now just you and Cain standing shoulder to shoulder—metaphorically, of course, he still towered over you.

“Hi,” the greeting was short when it left your lips, your eyes not daring to meet his.

He grunted and caught a glimpse of your eyes rolling before he finally replied with a greeting of his own.

“Hello.”

Single word answers were better than eerily long stares from across the room so you relaxed a bit.

“You better be all packed for tomorrow,” you said.

The drive brought back a bit of nostalgia with familiar scenery wizzing past the car windows. As promised months ago, Cain was given full control over the radio which hilariously meant not listening to anything at all or to podcasts that quickly put you to sleep. As customary with any roadtrip, there were restroom breaks, stops to refuel the car and at restaurants for refueling the passengers. Throughout the first half of the day, he stubbornly kept to himself, his knuckles gripping almost white on the wheel whenever you leaned in to read the GPS on his phone. By evening, you were starving and damn exhausted by his attitude on the drive.

A diner had caught your eye and despite Cain’s insistence on a healthier alternative, it was your shift to drive so you chose it despite him, pulling the car into the sparsely parked parking lot. A neon sign rested above the humble diner in bright yellow and blue, spelling out the name: Chicken Feed. The interior smelled as expected of grease, salt, and coffee. Some customers were scattered across the rows of plastic booths enjoying their high caloric meals. Seated in a corner booth by a window, was you and Cain, in the middle of a conversation that he was dying to end.

“You’re as chatty as a rock. How have you managed to date anyone?” You joked while digging into your wonderfully greasy burger. There was a glimmer of disgust in his eyes while Cain watched you eat the abomination of calories and he drew his focus back to his plate of fresh greens.

“My girlfriends were not interested in conversation,” he smugly answered.

“Gross.” You wiped your hands on a paper napkin and looked him in the eye. “You know, it’s not that hard to fake it.”

“What?”

“You’re so…by the book. Do you make them sign a contract for consent?” You laughed and grinned at him, “I’ll bet they were bored with the sex. You probably wouldn’t know if someone was faking it.”

He dropped his fork back on his plate with a loud clatter. A flare of irritation surged in his chest, the pressure rising higher as you smirked back at him.

“My dates enjoy their time with me,” he explained flatly and tried resuming his dinner. “We are not discussing this any further.”

While Cain’s face was normally stiffer than a starched shirt, it still stung how after all these years, right when you were both getting along better, that all of it could be undone with a kiss. There would be at least one more day of driving and quite frankly, you were over his dismissive attitude. You casually dabbed your face with a napkin and crumpled it up while he went back to aggressively stabbing at his plate.

“Ooo, ohh…oh…” you began while running your hands over the edge of the table and gripping it. A pair of icy eyes glared at you from across the table while you continued with your soft moans. “A-ah, right t-there. Mmm…!”

“What are you doing?” He asked sharply.

“Ah! Ah! Yes!” Your eyes were shut at this point, back arched and head thrown back.

He breathed out your name harshly and repeated it as a few patrons began turning their heads towards your table. His arms crossed as he huffed and sank back into the plastic booth with the resignation of a parent waiting out a toddler tantrum.

Cain normally had no problems with keeping his cool but when you moaned his name, his entire body seized and like some pathetic animal, felt his cock twitch when you moaned it again. With your neck straining as you tossed your head back and forth, he had an urge to shove his fingers in your mouth, to stuff your face until you stopped your antics. Instead, he restrained himself and if his jaw clenched any harder, his teeth would be powder by the time you completed the climax of your show.

To his relief, you cleared your throat and resumed your meal as if nothing happened, biting into a juicy hamburger with sauce dripping down the corner of your lips. You kept your eyes locked on his, suggestively wiping it off with your thumb and sucking it slowly off your skin. His throat visibly bobbed as he swallowed down a raging need swelling in his chest…and other regions. With a flick of your wrist, your water cup shot forward, the condensation allowing the glass to slide across the table and collide into back of his hand.

“Thirsty?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

When the checks were paid and last bathroom visits were made, you didn’t have much of a choice in car seating. Cain stormed to the driver side door and you returned to your cozy passenger seat settings. He was positively seething by the time you guys were on the road to the nearest motel. It was unlike him to be distracted while driving as he drove past a few rerouting suggestions.

“Uhm, Cain?” You asked as his phone chimed again to alert him of the correct route. “Are you…lost? I think the motel was a few turns ago—“

You called his name again as he pulled into a darkened and empty multi-use parking lot. He calmly turned off the engine and lights but kept his gaze outside the window.

“What the hell?” You hissed. In any other circumstance, you would have knocked out any guy that dragged you to what looked like location number two, but this was Cain and he was being a big baby.

“Tell me,” he started, his voice low with a predatory edge. “What do you hope to gain from pushing me?”

“Agh, you’re impossible. I…I’m just having a bit of fun because you’re so…serious with me all the time.” You unbuckled your seatbelt to turn towards him while he continued to face away from you.

“Do you like me?” You asked. “Because I think you do.”

That got his attention. He mirrored your actions, twisting his torso so he could rest one arm over the center console and glare down at you. “You’re mistaken.”

A pause elapsed while you raised one defiant eyebrow back at him.

“Cain—“

“Why would you ask that? Did Luther say something to Kara?”

“No, you idiot,” you said playfully and watched his face twitch to mask his annoyance. “You do these annoying things like refusing to shake the hands of my dates at game nights and parties. Do you even notice your girlfriend’s sour face when you spend a whole party brooding?”

You nervously chuckled and shook your head at him, your eyes lowering down to the center console of the car.

“I don’t understand why you’re so hot and cold with me. I don’t think you hate me but…” Your voice grew quieter as your confidence waned. “…do I repulse you in some way that makes you ashamed to like me?”

Your pouty face doused some of his rage but his chest was still hammering harder than a buried heart beneath a set of floorboards.

No.

His fist clenched, nails digging into firm skin while he fought to unfurl his tongue. How he felt went beyond a twisted perversion that made him desperately want to bury his face in your hair. All this time, Cain thought you were just like him. You weren’t. Beneath his carefully crafted public perception of himself, he was no better than a paper lion drifting away at the slightest breeze.

At camp, you saw a boy, alone and gazing sadly at a lake. He stood on the sidelines, only coming alive during activities that offered a chance at first place. Your arrogance was mostly for show, a way of coaxing him out of his shell. After all, you offered him something his ego could not resist: a playmate and a worthy contender. How were you to know about the baggage he carried? In so many ways you were better than him and Cain loathed you for it. He liked y—

He glared into the void as seconds passed and stretched beyond what was an acceptable time to answer a simple question. Did you repulse him?

“No,” he managed to breathe out. It was sort of endearing how a man could easily tackle writing novel sized essays but be so ineloquent when put on the spot. His steely gaze met your searching eyes.

“What?” He said more so than asked.

“I know what I want,” you replied with a soft smile and leaned over the center console. “What do you want Cain?”

He inhaled deeply, his chest expanding like an inflating balloon as he calmly counted backwards from five in his head. Slowly, he raised his hand to your face, grazing your cheek with his fingertips. It should have been soothing, but Cain’s movements clashed with the unsettling hunger in his eyes. He didn’t want to think about what he wanted for another second.

“No,” he demanded. “Tell me what you want.”

His other hand slipped over the console to invade your side of the car, resting dangerously close to the gap in your open thighs where your skirt had conveniently bunched up.

“C-Cain,” you whimpered when the hand at your face slipped back and gripped your hair. Goosebumps prickled along your skin as his nose traced the bone from your shoulder to your neck. The muscles along his back grew more taut as the scent of your hair consumed his senses. His vision blurred red like an animal going feral…red like…

Roses.

“Do you want me?” He calmly asked while his fingers skimmed over the hem of your skirt. You nodded which was apparently not enough confirmation for a man that followed everything by a rule book.

“Say it.”

“Y-yes!” You felt his mouth latch onto your neck and his nose pressing into your hair.

Fuck, did he just inhale?

The hand on your skirt moved, drawing higher up your thigh and brushing right against the soaked center of your panties. His breath was shaky on your skin as he massaged his fingers over your clit. He expected you to go pliant in his arms, melt as he hooked his fingers around the cloth to tease your folds. Instead, your hand found his wrist, guiding him into you.

“You didn’t think…after t-teasing you,” you muttered through gasps, “That I’d trust you to know what you’re doing?”

The years of taunting him had made him mostly immune to your antics. Cain had held out for so long, it made no difference if he had to wait another minute, or hour or…days. You’d beg for him soon enough. He curled his fingers, pumping them slowly and chuckled when you clenched around him.

“You don’t understand what you’ve started,” he cautioned, adding his thumb to torture your nerves. His teeth lightly bit down on your earlobe, pinching the skin to pull another whimper from you. He studied you with the pinhole focus of a wild and starved beast, licking his lips as his fingers picked up speed, your slick dripping down his knuckles. When he felt you getting close, he tore his hand away, ignored your sound of surprise and brought his tongue out to lick his fingers. There was a barely audible groan from deep within his chest but you had no time to reflect on it when his fingers hovered over your lips.

“Lick.”

The time for being self conscious was gone. If the bastard sitting next to you was going to be adamant about playing a game of wills, then you’d be more than happy to play along. With one smoldering glare back at him, you wrapped your lips around his fingers and slurped. You knew he had enough when his eyes darkened and he abruptly tried to free his fingers, your teeth catching onto his skin as he pulled out.

Without another word, Cain wiped his fingers on a spare tissue from a box in the car and moved as if he was checking things off a list: turn the engine back on, turn on the headlights, resume route. All the while, you stubbornly mirrored his calmness as if nothing occurred in the car.

In a few minutes, you arrived at the motel with bags in hand. The tension thickening as your hand slipped up his muscular back while he gave a measured reply to the bellhop who looked throughly done with the evening.

“How many beds will you and your companion require?” The bellhop asked flatly.

You managed to squeak out the letter ‘T’ before Cain spoke up.

“One.”

When the door to your shared room clicked shut, you ignored him by casually resuming your evening rituals of teeth brushing and showering. From the bathroom you’ve intentionally left open, he could make out your pretty silhouette in the fogged up glass as he weighed his options. The shower door opened before he could make up his mind, your damp arm outstretched.

“Can you hand me my brush?” You asked and gestured at a spot on the counter.

He took his time removing each article of his clothing, ignoring your sigh and chuckle. Your laugh died in your throat the moment he crowded you at the door with your brush and only hot water splattering between you as a last barrier.

“Your brush,” he said, sounding entirely unaffected by your nudity.

“T-thanks.”

He was a steamy blur between your soaped up eyelashes, becoming clearer as his massive frame entered the shower with you. His eyes roamed over your body, too busy watching the soap clear off your skin to notice he was half hard and unconsciously moving closer to your wet form.

“M-mm…” he groaned in surprise as your thigh rubbed across his erection.

“At least one part of you likes me,” you chuckled at him while rinsing the last of the soap out of your hair.

Old habits had a way of persisting no matter what the circumstances were and Cain was no match for his own stubbornness. You were so close, hot and soaking wet and still he felt there was something to prove by holding back. And hold back he did, literally straightening his spine and pulling his balled fists behind his back.

One of your hands slipped away from your hair, ghosting over his cock and gripping just the tip of it. Your name was uttered in a warning which you ignored, your eyes cracking open to stare up at him. It wasn’t like he joined you to save water. After a few languid pumps, his hands wrapped around your shoulders, causing your hands to still in confusion.

He smirked. You were cute when you were speechless.

He used it as a chance to push you down but you resisted his strength with a grin, patiently kissing the center of his chest and trailing your lips past his abs. When your chin bumped over his tip, you finally chanced a look at the challenge you’ve signed up for and gasped.

“Oh my god,” you held back a laugh as the shower continued to rain down behind you. “Okay, I get it. I can see why your ex-girlfriends didn’t care about talking.”

“Then stop talking,” he replied.

Your eyes rolled before your lips wrapped around his tip, licking over the throbbing muscle and only then, did he shift his hands from your shoulders to tangle into your wet hair. His muscles were more coiled up than a spring, every electron firing from his crotch failing to meet his brain and allow him to just relax and be in the moment with someone he had been denying his attraction to for years.

And for what? Pride?

What good was pride when there was lust, real lust. At last he could indulge, grip your hair and fuck your mouth like he’d get a blue ribbon for it. A trickle of trepidation locked his limbs, the mighty Cain, afraid of what he may have started as he stood on the precipice of the unknown. Still, he couldn’t drown out how good you felt.

“Mmph.”

His grunt was so quiet, you barely heard it over the water that was starting to grow cold. Between the slight sting in your throat and the fact he was only growing harder on your tongue meant you could only focus on making your jaw go slack. Your nails raked over his strong thighs, pushing and coaxing him to thrust down your throat. When that didn’t work, you looked up at him, ignoring the splashes of water that stung your eyes.

It’s okay.

Cain snapped with a groan, lightly fisting your hair to thrust into your mouth. His head rested on the shower tiles, hips moving in short bursts like any more might break you, or him.

“Ahh…F-fuck,” he huffed, surprising himself.

With every passing moment, more of him cracked like glaciers calving icebergs into an ocean. When your hands joined your mouth in ruining him by cupping him and stroking the rest that didn’t fit, he gasped, filling you with warm spurts that dripped down your throat and spilled past your lips. You suckled him a little longer, swallowing every heady drop.

“Wow, that was fast. I guess I’m lucky since the water was getting cold,” you teased and stretched your sore muscles while he shut the water off.

He recovered quickly, chuckling as he rubbed his thumb over your cheek, collecting his release that had dribbled down to your chin and pushed it back into your mouth, smearing it over the bed of your tongue. The smirk on his face said a thousand words, namely that he liked your mouth full.

“Go dry off,” he demanded.

You raised an eyebrow, sparing a quick glance at his softening cock. He leaned in immediately, opening the shower door with one push.

“Now.”

The moment you were both acceptably dry enough to be on a bed, you sprawled yourself on it, kneeling at the edge where you could see yourself in the mirror hanging across the bed.

“I’m on the pill, but there are condoms in my toiletries bag if you wanna grab one,” you offered.

His expression took on a gentler look as he approached you, his fingers tracing down the curve of your spine. “Which would you prefer?”

“I…I want to feel you, Cain.”

No more walls, no more running away.

You reached out for him, feeling his hands tremble as they clasped around yours. The mattress creaked and groaned with the addition of his solid frame, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pressed close to you. This wasn’t what you meant by feel as he held you in an embrace, his nose digging into the nape of your neck.

“Cain?”

“I have been…unfair to you,” he answered.

He turned your face to his, licking gently into your mouth. His lips muffled your moan as his fingers found the heat of your core, pressing into you like he did in the car.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, his fingers stretching you open.

“What sort of question is that?”

A third finger wriggled it’s way into you as his face left your side to bite your shoulder.

“Answer me,” he growled into your skin.

“Ye-s…!” You gasped out when his fingers began pumping harder into you.

“Good.”

His hand wrapped around your neck, gently lifting your head till you could see each other in the mirror. He slipped his fingers out, ignoring how your hips chased them. The tip of his length prodded at your entrance, the blunt and swollen head pushing forward. In the glass, you could see the moment his resolve shattered.

This was it, a song as old as time. Two thumping hearts separated by blood, skin and bone, connecting over a common rhythm. A feverish heat swirled in his chest and spread to his limbs, urging him on. If that wasn’t enough motivation, your soft moans kept him grounded and from retreating to his cave of ice. He was surprisingly gentle, slowly pumping until you could to take all of him, his hips finally meeting yours.

“Cain…Cain,” you begged the moment he stilled. Your muscles contracted around him, your nerves alight with every small shift from the man behind you. The dichotomy was killing you, your muscles relaxing everywhere but where you were both joined, the length of him reaching impossibly deep.

“I know,” he replied, his breath hot against your ear. “Look at us…how well we fit.”

Your eyes met in the mirror where he held your half lidded gaze. You watched him spread his knees and move his other hand from the mattress to slip down your abdomen. His fingers toyed with your swollen bud, rolling and swirling it gently in contrast to his hips setting a rough pace.

“I can’t hear you,” he murmured as you sobbed and moaned. The hand on your neck stuffed one finger past your open mouth, holding your jaw open. “Louder.”

“A-ahh…” was all you could manage until he freed your mouth. You scoffed even as he continued to slam into you, every ridge of him catching along your clenching muscles. “You’re so…b-bossy.”

“If you can give me a show at dinner, then you can give me more,” he said.

His fingers left your clit to stroke your folds and draw attention to where he was stretching you open. He gave you one rough thrust that stole the air from your lungs.

“Do I make myself clear?” Cain asked, his deep voice rumbling near your head. He saw you pout back at him in the mirror and to further his point, he stopped and eased out of you.

“I can finish myself without you,” you said back at him, dragging your fingers over your core and plunging them in. It didn’t feel anywhere near as good but you were on a hair trigger at this rate.

He leaned back and rested on his heels, arms crossed with a smug grin. Your scandalous and over the top moans accompanied the squelching from your fingers. From his angle, he had a great view of your butt in the air and your swollen folds swallowing your fingers. Cain could see you were close, your eyes pinched shut as you chased your end.

A pair of hands gripped your hips, pulling and flipping you. He didn’t give you a chance to complain, his face diving straight for your thighs and licking into you.

“Oh, f-fuck!” You cried, your legs instantly collapsing into jello around his shoulders.

His tongue flexed and curled, quickly finding the spots that made you cry out louder. He mercifully slipped out of you, only to latch onto your clit and suck. You swore you died for a moment, the room whiting out as your every muscle sung for him and he continued like he couldn’t get enough your quivering form.

“Cain…a-ah, ah, wait—“

A glimmer of silver shone from between your thighs and trapped your words in your throat. He dipped his tongue past your folds one last time and smirked.

“Tagging out so soon?”

“No—“

“Then,” he pushed your thighs open and made movements to hover over you. “Lie back.”

For once, you listened to him, too dazed to say anything. He pressed you against his chest, pinning you down into the mattress with his arms wrapping around your back. Even with the excess slick from your last peak, he had to gently coax you open again and repeat the cycle of slow thrusts.

“Cain.”

He ignored you, his mind made up on the path of least resistance.

“Fuck me,” you panted over his lips. “…Please.”

As the saying goes, fortune favors the bold and the by the book lover you’ve chosen was about to grant your wish. It was a shame the diner didn’t serve Chinese because you were about to snap like a fortune cookie.

He yanked your hips up, bending your knees until the backs of your thighs bumped against his shoulders for every thrust. You were still sensitive from earlier, your every twitch setting his veins ablaze.

And to think, he had been a fool to run from this.

The rest of that saying also mentions fortune favoring the brave and he had admittedly been a bit of a coward. Numerous nights and days were spent utilizing all of his energy not thinking about you when the alternative was so much more satisfying and filled with less heartache and pining. He was going to make it up to you…If you’d want him to.

Your name left his throat in a guttural groan as his hips lost their rhythm. His fingers dug into your skin, marking you for tomorrow. Maybe his face betrayed him, a bit of the loneliness spilling through the cracks of his mask. Whatever it was, your hands slipped around his face and stroked his cheek with a softness only lovers shared, his name a soft chant on your lips as your hips continued to collide into each other.

“I…I’m so c-close…Cain,” you panted.

“I’ve got you.” His hips stuttered and he pulled you flush against his chest, his face buried in your hair. He shuddered, at a loss for words as your walls pulsed erratically around him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he added.

You whined into his shoulder, your nails and hands clamping tightly into the meat of his back. He came with you, holding you close as he emptied himself into the warmth of your sex. Minutes dragged on, the buzzing of a cheap motel clock joining the creaks and groans of the settling spring mattress. A calm fell over your sweaty and entangled bodies while he held you, the ice king far too enchanted by the heat of your body to move first.

“So…Mr. Anderson, I’ll take tonight as an apology for ditching me on New Year’s Eve.”

Fuck. Cain groaned into your neck as his cock hardened inside you from your formality, a deeper red tinting his already flushed cheeks. You were going to be the death of him, reverting him into a raging horny teenager in one night. He heard you giggle as you pieced the puzzle together.

“Am I the only adult in this room?” He deadpanned back at you.

“Phrasing, Mr. Anderson,” you replied.

The driving schedule still demanded an early alarm so he brushed off your banter before he got caught up in another round of sex. There would be other chances to get you to say his last name while on your knees…or bent over a table. As the responsible adult that he was, he brought you a warm and damp towel, coaxing you to resume your bedtime rituals. When you settled back into the bed with him, he joined your side, hugging you closely from behind. From the sound of your drawn out yawn, he made up his mind to take the morning shift. As for when you both reached Detroit…maybe…

“Can I please pick the playlist for tomorrow?” You grumbled.

“Are you going to behave?” He hummed, adding a light nip on your neck. “No more diner theatrics.”

“I’ll be good.” A pause. “Maybe.”

“Then your request has been submitted, pending…good behavior,” he purred into your ear.

“Mhm…Night, Cain,” you murmured sarcastically into a pillow.

His hands clasped around yours as you sleepily returned the gesture. He tightened the embrace, the front of his thighs pressed tightly against the backs of yours.

“Goodnight,” he replied, adding a soothing stroke to your hair. His heart skipped when you sighed.

Cain felt whole for once, a part of something new.

A crazy little thing called love?

Perhaps only time would tell. For now, he had this, something unlabeled that he had no immediate desire to categorize and shelve. This was intangible, invisible…an invitation to live his life to its fullest.

A chance to live the way his parents did, without guarantees, but with love.

#my writing #detroit become human #dbh fanfic #reader insert #rk900 #dbh nines #nines x reader #rk900 x reader #the boy next door

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shipsandlattes · 5 years ago

Text

So I know everyone has already dissected this scene to its core, but it’s taken me a good 48 hours to digest this and I just needed to get it out.

I’m an aspiring actor, I’ve been training for a long time, with a lot of amazing teachers. I’ve watched a lot of shows and shipped a lot of couples. Some of them beautiful and canon, others, well, let’s just say waiting 22 years and counting for acknowledgement, closure, anything, it’s a damn challenge. I’ve seen a hell of a lot of will-they-wont-they’s, baiting, purposeful ignorance, deliberate fake outs, zero explanations, storylines that basically caused canon disintegration, the works.

In saying that, Dean and Cas were right up there on the list with the other “impossibles” because honestly, I didn’t think the writers would have the guts to do it, but I am so f*cking proud they did. It’s safe to say I’ve watched the scene a good hundred+ times already.

I’ve seen a lot of “controversy” around Dean’s reaction/Jensen’s acting choices and whether or not Dean reciprocates Cas’ feelings, and obviously, I needed to add my own views to the mix.

Just work with me for a minute here.

Dean Winchester is an emotionally repressed trainwreck, and ironically enough, the one that is so full of emotion it hurts to watch. When Cas first starts his speech, he’s confused, really confused because why on earth would Cas start off on a rant now? Billie’s waiting to kill them, he just said he knew something that was more powerful than she was, something that could save them. That’s where he thought this speech was going.

The confusion turns to realisation that it’s a goodbye when Cas starts telling him how incredible he is, how his entire essence is love. Go back and watch the scene again, when Cas says “you’re the most caring man on Earth”, you physically see Dean look down, his eyes searching, he’s actively trying to make sense of what’s happening, he knows what’s coming and you can see him coming to terms with the shock of the words being said to him. He then looks directly at Cas. That look, that was pure shock.

Also, notice how he doesn’t stop Cas from talking? He doesn’t interject, make a joke, doesn’t talk about how there is no time for this now, they’ve got to at least try and stop Billie. He. says. nothing. He listens, he listens like I’ve never seen Dean listen before. Because it’s sinking in now.

When Cas really starts crying, when he says “you changed me, Dean”, you can actually see the pain in Dean’s eyes. He’s no longer in control of his emotions, he’s crying too. He’s never seen Cas like this, so raw, and vulnerable and human. This is the hardest, most emotional conversation they’ve both ever had. They are talking about the one thing that everybody knows, but is never addressed. When it wasn’t talked about, they could deny it, live in the lie. Once it’s said aloud, it’s real and they can’t turn back.

This above series of interactions is the part that kills me the most. The moment Cas says “because it is”, that’s the exact moment of realisation. Look at that last GIF, really look. He’s just worked it out, that he is Cas’ true happiness. He knows what’s coming before Cas even says it. Go back and watch the scene again, they pulled that off so well, the way the music swells at this exact moment. Jensen is giving us everything here, you can see what’s happening in his head - he is Cas’ happiness. He is the one thing on Earth Cas wants and thinks he can’t have. He is the reason Cas is about to die. He knows what Cas is about to say and he’s not sure he’s ready to hear it, not now, not like this. It’s almost a silent plea not to say it, because he knows. Of course he knows. It’s like he can’t quite believe Cas is really, after all this time, finally going to say it.

And because obviously Jensen decided that that wasn’t enough to break us, the loaded reaction when Cas says “I love you” has me nothing but convinced that it’s reciprocated. Because Dean knows. He’s always known. Those tears, that head tilt, that gulp. He’s so genuinely confused that they’re really having this conversation. It’s like he can’t quite believe that this is the reality before him because he’s been living in that denial, in that self-loathing and unlovable layer he believes to be true. He’s been under the ‘what if... but it could never be’ umbrella for so long.

What also makes this real is that there isn’t anyone else around this time. When “I love you’s” have been said before, they have always been able to deflect it, with other people or other words. Now it’s just the two of them. No deflecting, no running away. Dean is forced to hear it, to absorb it, to realise it’s for nobody else but him.

Now, I don’t know if you guys felt this, but when Dean says “Don’t do this, Cas”, he wasn’t just referring to Cas sacrificing himself to the Empty, he’s telling Cas that he can’t just say this, not now, knowing he’s going to die, knowing that Dean won’t get a chance to think, to process, to say what he needs too. I keep staring at that GIF above, Dean is breaking down, I’m almost convinced that Jensen was using an “I love you too, please just stop this” inner monologue for this bit. Look at the way he’s looking at Cas before he realises the Empty has started materialising and turns around. That’s a look of pure heartbreak. Trust me when I tell you, it’s really hard to keep those inner thoughts inside if you’re so in the moment - actually, don’t just take my word for it, read any acting book, ask any actor, it’s so hard to keep that in and sometimes you don’t, and sometimes you do - it’s in both the resistance and the letting go that the gold happens. This my friends, is gold.

Did anyone else hear “Cas, I-”, well, regardless of whether or not it was an “I” or a very sharp breath, the outcome is the same. Dean’s gone into immediate panic mode. The Empty at one end and Billie at the other, and all poor Dean wants to do is gather his thoughts on not what to say but how to say it. I don’t think he comprehended just how little time he had, he was so focused on what was being said that the reality of the situation caught him completely off guard.

Also, I know this post was about dissecting Dean’s reaction, but can we sidebar a minute to talk about Cas as he pushes Dean out of the way? He’s sobbing, he’s fully crying. That hit me really hard, I’ve never seen Cas cry like that, I’ve never seen Misha get to play that level of emotion before and it was the most heartbreaking thing to watch since The Doctor and Rose and Buffy and Spike, to which by the way, I find many parallels between those couples and this scene.

Speaking of crying, that brings me to this: Dean slumped on the floor, ignoring a call from Sam, sobbing his heart out knowing he’s lost everything. Dean-I’m-emotionally-unavailable-Winchester is sobbing. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t recall ever seeing Dean cry like this before either, the sobbing was so evident and piercing in that silence. The look around the room, the burying of his head in his hands, that is a classic writers romantic love trope if I’ve ever seen it, they really pulled out all the stops with this one.

So, to summarise, I think Jensen’s choices and Dean’s reactions were absolutely and utterly perfect. They both did it so well that it didn’t break from character that these two emotionally distant and repressed men are in love and finally voicing it. Jensen barely said two words and still managed to cause mass coronary’s across the fandom. That my friends is what you call a brilliant actor. I bow down to the talents of these two amazing human beings.

Before I leave this novel, I have to say there are now a few things I’m going to need from the powers that be to not screw this up, help me manifest this:

1. Dean gets to reciprocate his feelings to Cas in person. So, I’m gonna need Cas back and a very emotional Dean.

2. Dean to be actively dealing with heartbreak in the next episode (unless they decided to bring Cas back that soon, which I wouldn’t put past them at this point).

3. Sam to confront Dean about his feelings for Cas, because out of everyone, he’d be the one to hit Dean with the truth of his fears. Sam knows. Sam is supportive. Sam sees it all.

4. I’m gonna need some physical affection, cause after 12 years of nonsense, we damn well deserve it. A hug, and not just any old reunion hug, a proper, this is different now hug. A kiss because hello, in love out loud now. Forehead touching, handholding, really gonna need the works here.

5. A happy ending for the two of them, one way or another. We’ve never had one, it’s time.

Okay, have at it now, let’s speak these into existence please.

Note: GIFs are not mine, I did not make them, credit to owners who I’m not sure of, but they’re beautiful, thanks for making them. EDIT: I’ve just been informed that these gorgeous gifs belong to @michaeldean and @inacatastrophicmind!

#supernatural #SPN #DeanCas #destiel #deanwinchtser #castiel #15x18 #Jensen Ackles #Misha Collins #actor #acting #I ship it #shipper #i love you #spn spoilers #opinion piece #thoughts #my two cents #ships and lattes

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fanficimagery · 4 years ago

Text

Talking to the Dead

Imagine your sister calling in a favor, only to find out said favor is for the vampire sheriff of Louisiana.

Words: 6.3K Author's Note: I am not Bill's biggest fan, nor am I Eric/Sookie's biggest fan either. That said, this takes place AFTER all damn drama with King Bill. Eric still runs Fangtasia alongside Pam and Sookie still works under Sam at Merlotte's. They're friends. That's it.

Eric sits behind his desk, the bottom half of his face covered in blood as Pam files her nails. She had been going through Fangtasia's books when she realized the money wasn't adding up and that some of their product was missing. So when Tara brought forward those responsible in making sure Fangtasia was up to date with their taxes and everything, Eric called in a favor from Sookie to get a read on them. Only Eric lost his temper and killed the two men, leaving thousands of his money stashed somewhere only the dead knew of now.

The office door opens and Sookie stumbles inside, still in her Merlotte's uniform. She takes one look at Eric and sighs. "Did you have to kill them? I just wasted a trip out here, Eric Northman."

"How tragic," he deadpans. "You wasted about five dollars in gas, meanwhile I'm still out of thousands, Miss Stackhouse."

"Don't you take that tone with me, Mister!"

Pam snorts. "Shame your little fae powers don't allow you to speak to the dead," she drawls. "That would really come in handy right about now." Sookie opens her mouth to defend her still untrained powers, only to pause and snap her mouth shut. Immediately that catches both vampires' attention and Pam leans forward, interest piqued. "Have you been holding out on us, Tinkerbell?"

"No." Sookie scoffs, suddenly overcome with wariness. "But I, uh, I might know someone who-"

"No." Eric cuts her off. "No witches."

"She's not a witch," Sookie says. "Y/N is, um, she's my sister."

Eric freezes before he leans forward in his chair. "There's a third Stackhouse? How come we never learned of this?"

Sookie sighs and drops onto the couch. She shrugs. "Y/N's powers manifested a lot earlier than mine did and they.. well it drove her crazy. She was in and out of the hospital, and the death of our parents didn't do her any favors. She started rebelling at seventeen and drank herself into oblivion. Constantly."

Pam hums. "Sounds like my kind of girl."

Sookie frowns at her before looking back at Eric. "She's actually due for a visit tomorrow. I'll bring her by."

"How are you so sure she'll do this for us? If I recall correctly, you did not come peacefully," Eric muses.

Sookie rolls her eyes. "Y/N is a free spirit. If I hadn't told you she was my sister, you wouldn't have known we were twins."

"Twins?" Eric seems to perk up, eyes lighting up, and this time it's Pam's turn to roll her eyes.

Sookie scoffs. "Don't be gross. We'll be by after my shift tomorrow."

Finding an Uber into Bon Temps after the sun had set was almost impossible, but fortunately you found someone who was willing to make the trip. You knew Louisiana had become a vampire hotspot, but you didn't know people had found traveling in the state quite so fearsome.

You don't have much on you, with the exception of a small suitcase holding a few change of clothes, so you opt to be dropped off at Merlotte's rather than your childhood home. And upon exiting the car after making sure your payment went through, you grab your suitcase by the handle and walk towards the entrance. A few whispers attempt to reach out to you, but you shake off the echoes of death and march on.

There's only a handful of locals inside Merlotte's, but the no-good nosy folk still all stop to see who's entering their local establishment. Inside, the whispers get louder, but you reign in your control and shake your head clear. What the hell happened here that there are so many echoes?

"Do my eyes deceive me or is that my favorite Stackhouse?"

You're already grinning as you find the source of the comment, grin widening as Sam's familiar handsome self makes his way towards you. "Come on, Sam. We all know who your favorite Stackhouse really is?"

He laughs as he opens his arms for a hug and you drop your suitcase to step into his embrace. "Jason's bragging again, isn't he?"

You huff a laugh and pinch his side, the two of you not speaking of all the years he spent pining after your sister. "So where is my twin?" You ask as you pull back and roll your eyes when Sam readily picks up your suitcase.

You follow him to the bar as he says, "She's taking a call in the back. Want me to let her know you're here?"

"Nah, but can you put in an order for me? I miss Lafayette's burgers."

"Sure thing, chère. What do you want?"

"Cheeseburger with everything, cut the onions. Extra ketchup. Fries. And whatever beer you have on tap."

Sam chuckles as he's already pouring your beer. "So the usual." You grin as he slides your glass across the bar. "I'll be back."

Taking a seat on the stool there at the bar, you grab your glass and sip at the ice cold beer. It feels so good sliding down your throat that the sip turns into a gulp, and before you know it half the glass is gone. Needing a breath, you set the glass down and inhale deeply. As you exhale, you burp, and then take a moment to stretch in your seat while glancing around. A few people are still staring and murmuring far too low to their companions for you to hear, so instead you raise an eyebrow at them- challenging them to say their opinion out loud. None of them do and you scoff an amused laugh before drinking the rest of your beer.

Sam reappears. "Long flight?" He takes your glass and refills it.

"Flight was fine. It's the people of Bon Temps who annoy the shit out of me." Sam frowns, but you shrug off his concern as he quickly glances around at those in his establishment. You're well aware of what everyone thinks of you and Sookie thanks to Sookie's abilities, and you're grateful you didn't quite get the same ability as her. If you had to hear every living being's thoughts on top of the dead's, you'd have permanently committed yourself long ago.

"Well I talked to your sister in the back. She said she'll be right out."

"That's fine." Accepting your second glass of beer, you smile gratefully at Sam before taking another drink.

"Girl, I knows you ain't tryin' to eat my food without saying hello."

You turn on your stool, one knee crossed over the other as you beam at the cook. "Lafayette!" He approaches with your plated cheeseburger and a basket of fries, setting them in front of you before pulling you into a hug. "I wouldn't have left without saying hello. I just wanted my food first."

"'Course you did," he muses. "How long you here for, little Stackhouse?"

"Um, I'm kind of between jobs at the moment," you sheepishly admit. You quickly grab a fry and pop it into your mouth. "I'll probably stick around until I can find something or Sookie kicks me out."

Lafayette swats you with his dish towel. "You know damn well Sook won't kick you out. That sister of yours misses you lots. She's been talkin' nonstop about your visit."

"If you need a job, chère, I'll be happy to give you one."

You pop another fry into your mouth, grinning over at Sam. "Lord knows you can barely handle one Stackhouse, Sam. No way in hell you can two- three if Jason is around as much as I'm assuming." Sam opens his mouth to retort, but a shriek cuts him off. It's Sookie and she barrels right into your side. "Jesus Sook," you laugh. "Warn a girl."

As you and Sookie quickly catch up (she's all for you staying as long as you need), more patrons enter Merlotte's and Lafayette's forced back into the kitchen. Jason and his best friend Hoyt walk in, so you walk over to join them as Sookie gets back to work also.

Jason is glad Sookie won't be in the house all on her own since he has his own place and Hoyt is just glad to see all the Stackhouses together once again. You finish your cheeseburger and fries there at the table with them, along with three glasses of beer and two shots courtesy of your brother who wanted to properly celebrate your homecoming.

Jason and Hoyt leave, you waving them off when they asked if you wanted a ride home. Sookie's shift is just about over and you remember her asking if you could wait for her because she wanted to take you someplace. So when Sookie comes out from the back to collect you from the bar, you're slightly swaying on your stool as you grin at her.

"Are you drunk?" She incredulously asks. "Y/N, I need you level headed."

"Ooohhh," you coo and reach out to bop her on the nose. "And just what do I need to be level headed for, sis?"

"Can you walk?" She asks instead. You laugh and nod, hopping off the stool and giving yourself a moment to make sure the room isn't tilting. She sighs. "That's good enough for me. Come on. A friend of mine needs a favor." She walks behind the bar to collect your suitcase and a bottle of water from the small refrigerator under the bar. "Bye, Sam! See you later!" She then calls out as she leads you down a hall. You hear Sam's muffled reply from one door in particular and then Sookie's leading you out the back exit and towards her car.

Outside she opens the passenger door to her small yellow Honda Civic that looks newer than the last time you saw it, and tosses your suitcase in the backseat. She pushes you down onto the passenger seat and holds the water bottle out to you. "Drink."

You take the bottle without a word, twist off the cap, and start to guzzle the water as she shuts the door and walks around the car to the driver's side door. You only get half of it down before needing to breathe. "What.. am I.. guzzling water for?" You ask in between breaths.

As Sookie starts up her car, she casts a wary glance your way before looking back to where she's driving. "Shreveport. We're going to Fangtasia. The owner of the bar needs you to listen to some echoes."

"Fangstasia?" Your brow furrows as you try to wrack your brain about why that sounds so familiar. A moment later, however, the answer comes to you and you groan. "First off, I can overlook the vampire bar. What I can't overlook is that of all people to tell our secret to, you chose vampires. Vampires! Do you know we're like crack to them?"

"I'm sorry, okay! I got involved with them a while back, which is a mistake that I can admit now, but Eric actually tried helping me in his own way. Somewhat. We've become friends."

"Sookie." You groan again. Your sister pouts and you decide to keep quiet, sipping on your water and wishing it were something stronger. "So what does this Eric know about me listening to echoes?"

"Nothing really," she says. "I know how you like your privacy, so last night was the first time I mentioned that I even had a sister." You grin, not hurt at all by her not mentioning you to others. "I just said that you could listen in on the dead. They don't know about anything else."

"Good. I like to keep 'em on their toes." Sookie snorts at your all too amused expression. "And besides, I learned a new trick! I can't wait to test it out."

Your sister glances between you and the road, her smile faltering. "Are you- are you sure you're okay to do this? I know how it can get when you're not truly focused."

"We're on the road." You giggle. "No turning around now."

This time it's Sookie's turn to groan. "I knew I should have asked beforehand. Now the night's gonna end with one of us pinned to a wall."

"Oooh. Kinky."

The rest of the drive is painfully quiet, with the exception of some gospel music station Sookie has playing on low. You're humming a completely different song under your breath, right arm hanging out the window and letting the humid air rush over the skin of your arm. Thankfully the drive isn't too long and Sookie is soon pulling into the parking lot with a building partially decorated with neon red lights. The outside of Fangtasia is not what you expected, but seeing the line of both human and vampires in their scantily clad outfits makes you excited to see what's going on inside.

You're practically bouncing in your seat as Sookie parks and she can't help but grin at your apparent excitement. "Get it all out now," she says. "You won't be smilin' the closer you get to the buildin'. Not while you're half drunk."

"Shut up and let's go!"

Sookie fondly rolls her eyes and the two of you simultaneously pull down the sun visors to check yourselves in the small mirrors provided. Happy with your reflections, the two of you climb out of the vehicle. As your sister comes around to your side, you hook your arm through hers and the two of you head for the building.

Instead of heading straight to the back of line, Sookie leads you directly to Fangtasia's bouncer and ignores the grumbled displeasures of those waiting in line to get in. It takes you a few seconds to recognize the dark skinned female checking ID's, but when she turns to greet Sookie and her eyes widen upon seeing you, you grin. "What's cookin', good lookin'?"

"Oh Lord," Tara muses. "Eric's gonna murder the both of y'all."

Sookie huffs and she holds you back as you attempt to poke at Tara's abdomen. "Who put him in a bad mood now?"

Tara shrugs as she swats your hand away. "It's Eric. He's always in a bad mood unless he's balls deep in some fang-banger."

Your sister ew's and you grin, clearly impressed, until Sookie elbows you. Tara just chuckles and gestures inside. "Go on in. You know where to find him. See you later, Y/N."

"Lookin' forward to it." Sookie drags you inside and the second you step foot in the darkened hallway, you sway on your feet as pressure builds up in your head. "Wait, wait, wait." You step aside to lean against the wall, shaking your head clear and trying to build up mental walls. When you catch a glimpse of your sister, you see her smiling sadly at you and are grateful she doesn't gloat about being right. "This is why I don't hang around vampires much," you murmur. "So much death."

"Sorry. I know I should have asked beforehand, but I didn't want to give you a chance to say no. Eric's annoying when he doesn't get what he wants."

"Yeah, yeah." You wave her off, close your eyes, and take a few deep breaths. Once you feel a bite more settled, you push off the wall and meet your sister's gaze. "Okay. I'm ready."

Entering the main part of the club you can't help but look around in wide-eyed wonder. While most would think you were awe, you actually weren't and instead bit back the comment about how ridiculously cliché the establishment is. Everything is in blacks and reds, vampires in leather or electrical tape are dancing on poles, and the humans reek of desperation.

"Huh. No one's on the throne," Sookie muses.

You glance towards a raised platform, eyes lighting up at the sight of two actual thrones. Sookie's grip on your arm, however, stops you from attempting to go up there. "At least buy me a drink before we meet Mr. Scary Vampire." You pout.

"Nope." She starts marching away from the bar and towards a back hallway. "You're drunk enough already. You can have one at home when we're done here."

"Boo. You're no fun."

Sookie stops right outside a black door and impatiently knocks. You grin at her already huffy attitude and then walk in behind her as soon as someone permits entrance. The office is very plain, with the exception of a blood red couch off to the side and the two vampires behind the desk, and you frown as Sookie guides you towards a black leather chair and pushes you down into it.

"So this is the mysterious Stackhouse." The blonde male drawls.

You drag your gaze from your sister to the vampire in question and sit a little straighter in your seat as a lazy smile stretches across your lips. "And you're the mysterious vampire I've only heard about an hour ago." You then look at your sister. "Please tell me you banged this one."

There are simultaneous snorts from behind the desk and Sookie exhales roughly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Eric. Pam, this is my sister Y/N. She might be a little drunk."

"Just a little," you muse, giggling.

"Well at least we know who the fun Stackhouse is."

You perk up again, putting one finger on the tip of your nose and pointing at Pam who's smirking at you with the other hand. "And don't you forget it."

"As amusing as this is," Eric drawls again, "I need a favor. Are you capable of doing what your sister claims you can do?"

"I wouldn't be here if I couldn't." You smirk. The smirk falters however as you feel a chill slide across the back of your neck. You still and slowly glance over your shoulder, whispers you hadn't been listening to earlier getting louder. You wince and turn back around, strengthening your shields. A moment passes before you clear your throat and say, "But I have two conditions before I start."

Eric and Pam had been watching you closely, intrigued the second Sookie held up her hand to stall their questions when they noticed you zone out and stare at the corner of the room. "Money is no issue," Eric then says.

"Pft. I don't want money."

"Y/N!" Sookie reprimands. "You're in between jobs. Take the money."

Without looking at your sister, you wave your hand at your sister to get her to shut up. You know you've done your job when she swats your hand so you continue speaking to Eric. "First condition, no biting! I don't care how delicious I smell. No gnawing on the tiny little gremlin."

Pam's lips stretch into a wide smile whereas Eric's lips faintly twitch. "And the second?"

"I get free drinks from the bar whenever I'm here."

"Deal."

"Yes!"

"You're such an idiot," Sookie mutters.

You look to your sister, bouncing in your seat in excitement. "Joke's on Dracula. I'm gonna be in Bon Temps for the foreseeable future. That's a lot of free drinks for me. Suck it, Pixie."

"Oohh. I like this mouth breather. Can we please keep her?"

You meet Pam's gaze and wink. "As beautiful as you are, sweet stuff, you are so not my type."

Her left eyebrow raises as she's still clearly amused. "Because I'm a vampire?"

"Nah. Because you're female," you say. "I can appreciate a hot as fuck lady when I see one, but I still prefer cock."

"Okay!" Sookie nearly shouts as she stands up. Eric beams at your drunken blunt attitude. "We're here so Y/N can find out where your money is and we're way off topic. Can we please get on with it so I can get her home?"

You snort. "Prude." Sookie slaps the back of your arm and you squeal, slapping her arm back. You glare at her until her lips twitch and then you're back to giggling, looking back toward the vampires. "So let's do it. Do you have anything of the dead guy I'm supposed to be listening for? It'll make it easier to listen in on him."

Pam shrugs. "His blood is still in the dungeon. Will that work?"

"Gross, but yeah. Lead the way."

As soon as you stand, the voices amp up and you sway at the sudden onslaught of voices. You grit your teeth and tune them out, nodding at Eric who had stilled to keep an eye on you. He gestures to follow after Pam and you do, Sookie and Eric following behind you. Pam makes a beeline for the stage of thrones, but before you can follow there's a hand gripping your wrist and leading you towards a door behind the bar.

You're led down into a dimly lit dungeon behind Eric and you can't help the next words that leave your mouth. "It's always such a let down when the dungeon is actually a dungeon and not a sex dungeon."

Eric turns around to stare at you with a leering gaze and Sookie groans. "Been in a lot of dungeons?"

"Not really." You shrug and walk towards the back of the room where there are metal poles sticking up from the concrete floor. Chains hang from each of them and you shiver as your fingers run over them, the metallic rattling immediately tuning you in to the whispers. Subtly shaking your head, you look towards Sookie. "You know the drill."

She nods, pulling small orange styrofoam plugs from her pocket. "If it looks like you're struggling, plug my ears. Or get out."

"Bingo." You grin at your sister before looking at Eric. "If it gets bad, I expect you to vamp speed her little butt outta here."

"And how would I know what bad looks like?"

"Oh you'll know," Sookie mutters.

Grinning one last time at Sookie and Eric, you turn back towards where Eric obviously chains up those who end up on his bad side. So touching the chains again, you let the rattling and whispers overcome your senses.

"..dangerous. Need to leave."

"..bad place. I just want to go home."

"Stupid fuckin' vampers."

The room turns hazy and silhouettes walk to and from around the basement. You stare at them, letting the voices come and go until you find the one you're looking for.

"..so screwed. Never should have done it." Your gaze zeroes in on the silhouette, watching it pace back and forth. "It was just a little money. Pocket change."

"Never gonna find it. Calm down. We're already dead."

You listen a bit more to their whining, hoping for anything useful when a loud dry sob pierces the air. You wince and whirl around to spot the source of noise.

"Did she- can she hear us?"

"If she can then she can tell that goddamn vamper where his stuff is." You whirl back around, gasping at the too close silhouette. "Hello." A chill rushes through you and your too tense muscles seem to relax as a haze takes over your mind.

"Y/N? You good?" Sookie asks. She warily glances around, she and Eric both noticing the atmosphere in the room thickening.

"Hm?" Your eyes blink rapidly as if clearing your vision. "Yeah. All good," you hear yourself saying.

"Well what did you find out?" Eric asks.

You feel your head turning left and right as if taking in your surroundings before you turn around and walk towards the wall where more chains are hanging. Eric growls at being ignored and Sookie quietly assures him that this is normal. Reaching for a chain, you feel your hand gliding along one chain and picking it up, caressing a metal stake at the end of it.

"Y/N," Sookie cautiously calls out. "What are you doing?"

Getting a good grasp on the stake in one hand, you turn around and smile at Eric- a chilling smile that immediately sets Sookie on edge and lets even Eric know that something is off. "Fuck your money. You're never gonna get it, you dead piece of shit."

"Y/N, don't!" Sookie screams as your arm suddenly thrusts the stake towards the side of your neck, only to stop mere centimeters from the intended target.

Sookie gasps and Eric raises an eyebrow in surprise. "Are her eyes supposed to completely white over?"

"Well she did mention learning a new trick." Sookie nervously shifts beside Eric and they watch you slowly come back to yourself, expression hardening.

Eyes completely white, you stare straight ahead as you lower your hand without any resistance from the spirits. "You dead fucks try that shit again and I will obliterate your fuckin' souls, and mark every soul in your goddamn family. Do I make myself clear?" You seethe. The dungeon gets chilly before the tension seems to suddenly dwindle. The whispers amp up before completely dying out and you stand a little taller. "Good. Now where is the money?"

Eric and Sookie patiently watch Y/N as she lazily glances back and forth before the white recedes from her eyes. Her shoulders sag and she meets Eric's gaze. "That Rafael guy had a building he was renovating over on.. over on.." she trails off, brow furrowing as she tries to collect her thoughts.

"I know of it," Eric says.

She sighs. "Well the money's in the wall on the second floor. Happy demolishing."

Then like a puppet with its strings cut, Y/N collapses right before their very eyes.

- - - - - - - - - -

A pounding at your temples is what wakes you and you groan as your eyes flutter open. You're apparently still at Fangtasia, back in Eric's plain office and laying on the most uncomfortable couch you've ever laid on.

"You're awake. Good."

You begrudgingly sit up, wincing as the throbbing persists. Glancing around, you frown as you notice you and Eric are the only two in the room. "Where's my sister?"

"Miss Stackhouse couldn't bother a mere hour in my presence so she went out front to pester Tara."

"You two exes or something?"

Not even close. "No. I admit I pursued her once, but it was only to satiate my curiosity about why she smelled so divine." Bill fuckin' Compton was also a cock block of epic proportions.

You snort. "Cock block. Who is Bill and why did he cock block you from Sookie?" Eric stills and he goes quiet. You frown at him and then between one blink and the next, Eric is kneeling in front of you.

Can you hear me?

"Um, yes?" You say. A moment passes and then you realize your slip-up. You groan. "Okay, so yeah. I can't read the minds of humans, but apparently I can read the minds of vampires. It only happens when I'm at my most vulnerable and being slightly possessed makes me vulnerable."

Eric slowly smirks. "Well aren't you my new favorite Stackhouse."

You fall back against the back of the couch, groaning. "Whatever. I don't have the energy to argue with you. Just please don't tell Sookie. She gets all huffy when I can do something she can't."

Another blink and Eric is sitting beside you on the couch. "Is there a reason why you can read vampires and she can read everyone else but vampires?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." You shrug. "I eventually came to the conclusion that we're just a part of different courts. She's Light Fae and I'm Dark. She flourishes under the sun and I under the moon. I don't really know."

"Have you tried getting answers from other Fae?"

"Yeah, no. I met a member of the Fae court and that's a hard pass. Those fairy fucks can keep their imposter foods. I like this realm just fine, thank you very much."

Eric's lips twitch. "If the vampires find out about your powers, they're going to fight to put their claim on you."

"Is that your not so subtle way in trying to convince me that I should ask you for protection?"

"I'm the sheriff of this area, sweetheart. You won't be able to find anyone better suited for the job."

You huff a quiet laugh. "Keep your fangs to yourself, sweetheart. I can take care of myself."

We'll see about that.

Settling in at what was always known as Gran's house, you almost take Sam up on his offer to become a waitress or bartender at Merlotte's. But then a day after doing Eric a favor, a check arrives for you- a check worth thousands of dollars- along with an offer from Eric to work every other day at Fangtasia to read the vampires coming and going from his area.

You didn't get back to him right away, instead choosing to just keep to yourself for a bit and re-familiarize yourself with the town. And then just when you think you have a lid on things, a constant buzzing makes a home just at the back of your skull.

For days Eric tries reaching you through texts and calls, but you just don't have the patience to deal with him. The buzzing is non-stop, the echoes of the dead sound as if they're underwater, and you can't hold a conversation longer than a minute. Sookie seems to understand that you can't be around people, so she leaves you be for the most part.

Your sister is currently at work so you have the house all to yourself. You haven't been able to clear your head and the buzzing is only getting louder and louder. You're nearing your breaking point, so when there's a knock at the front door you try to ignore it.

The knocking persists so you reluctantly roll out of bed, frowning as you march downstairs and towards the front door. Through the screen door you can see Eric standing there. You scowl at him, he grins, and when you push open the door he's immediately leaning against the door jamb. "You've been ignoring me."

You sigh and cross your arms over your chest. "I haven't been feeling well. Something's.. off."

That causes his faint grin to drop. "Is it something serious?"

"I'm not sure. I just- it feels like something bad is on the way."

"Well in that case.." Eric straightens up and stares down at you. "You're going to invite me in so I can protect you-" you scoff, "-or have primal passionate sex with you. You pick."

Though your mind is on overdrive, you can't help but faintly grin at the tall vampire. "I'll take a raincheck on the sex, but if you still want to come in, then come in."

Eric smirks as he crosses the threshold of the house and you shake your head at him before turning around and leading him to the living room. You take a seat in the corner of the couch, curling up with a pillow in your lap, and Eric sits on the middle seat to be as close to you as possible. "How long have you been feeling like this?"

"Few days now," you tell him. "There's this.. buzz. It's constant and it just keeps getting louder and louder."

"And the voices?"

"Muffled. No matter how much I concentrate, I can't hear them clearly. It's like they're trying to tell me something, but I can't tune in to the right station. It's annoying." Eric hums in thought and you attempt to change the subject. "So what brings you down here to Bon Temps? Surely my first impression wasn't that memorable."

He smirks as his arm rests along the top of the backrest of the couch, his fingers tugging on a few pieces of your hair. "It's rare for someone to amuse me these days. And you weren't what I was expecting Sookie's twin to be."

"Between the two of us, Sookie got all the perkiness. I, uh, I got stuck with all the doom and gloom." Eric quirks an eyebrow at you and you chuckle, wincing a moment later as an lingering echo screeches in your ear. Your attention is immediately drawn towards the kitchen where you see a silhouette walk by and the buzzing amps up.

Without uttering a word, you get up and follow it.

Eric watches as Y/N laughs one moment and then in the next second her expression is completely blank and attention elsewhere. Normally he'd be offended, but after learning what he could from Sookie he knows to never bring Y/N out of a trance. So in order to protect this little fae that just continues to become more and more interesting, Eric gets up and follows Y/N through the kitchen and out the back door.

He keeps several feet between himself and Y/N, his curiosity piqued as he notices her stop in the middle of the field behind her home. She glances back and forth as if searching for something, slowly turning in a circle. She winces and stumbles back, eyes wide and heart pumping furiously. Whatever's going on, Eric's instincts suddenly kick in and he doesn't like it. He doesn't like the look of fear on Y/N's face.

One sudden stumble sends Y/N to her knees, hands clamping around her ears.

"No, no, no," you mumble. The buzzing is extremely loud now, voices are screaming but you're still unable to make out what they're saying. Rocking back and forth, you glance around and your heart sinks as you watch Eric standing there across from you. "Go. Get away. I can't-"

"What's wrong? I can help you."

You shake your head. "You can't. You need to go. Get away from me. Please."

Eric watches you and you whimper when you see his resolve strengthen. He's not going anywhere. Clenching your eyes shut against the onslaught of noise, you slam your hands down on the ground in front of you and your fingers dig into the earth. Your breaths come faster and faster, and when you can't take it anymore your eyes fly open as you open your mouth and scream.

Your scream drowns out the buzz, the voices become clearer and it's only there alongside your scream do you understand them. You don't know how long you scream for, but when you stop your throat feels raw.

"What was that?" Eric asks.

"Sookie."

He's immediately kneeling before you, fingers under your chin to tilt your face upward. "What did you say?"

"My sister. She's not- she's not safe."

"She's at work under the ever watchful eye of the shifter."

"She is. Until she walks out back to take out the trash," you say. "Please," you beg. "Just.. just go check on her."

Eric continues to hold your gaze for a moment longer before he gives you a terse nod and then stands tall. Your eyes follow him as she lifts off into the air and it's like a weight is lifted off your chest. You sob in relief, curling in on yourself with your face in your hands.

"..inside.. safer.."

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your cries immediately cease. Sniffling, you sit back up and glance around the field you're in. Hearing the chirping insects and the ruffling of tree limbs puts you at unease, so you climb to your feet and hurriedly make your way back towards the house. You don't breathe until you're inside, behind closed doors, but even then you're still a little tense and wondering if your sister is okay.

The minutes tick on by as you pace back and forth in the kitchen, and you yelp when you turn around and Eric is standing right there. You raise a fist in order to punch him, but stop halfway there and instead poke his chest as you push him back a step. "Don't do that."

He smirks. "Sookie is fine. A couple of human junkies needed some money for their next fix. The sheriff is on the way to take care of the issue."

"Thank you." You sigh. As you move aside to take a seat at the table, you glance back at Eric and see a blood trail falling from his ear. Your eyes widen and you rush towards him, uncaring about boundaries when one hand lands on his chest and the other grasping his chin to turn his face sideways. "Your ear! I told you to leave before I screamed. Why didn't you listen?" You let go of his chin and then shove him a step back as you go back to pacing.

Eric chuckles. "You've been keeping secrets. You're not just Fae, are you?"

You shrug. "I'm not really sure what I am. I only found out I was part Fae because you guys told Sookie she was. The mind reading is from Fae abilities, but the screaming-"

"The wailing is a whole different breed."

You stop pacing and face him once more. "There's only one creature that wails," you say, "but I gave up on digging into our family history a long time ago."

"You truly are a rare breed, Miss Stackhouse. Half fae, half banshee. The vampires are going to be in a tizzy over you."

You groan. "A problem is inevitable until I agree to a claim, isn't it?"

"Aren't you a smart cookie."

You scowl at Eric then, holding his gaze until you sigh. "If I say yes to a claim, can I have your word that you won't take advantage?" He smiles then and though this vampire is ridiculously good looking, you rather not be someone's pet. But alas, you know he's right. "If the offer for a job at Fangtasia is still open, I'll take it. I don't plan to leave Bon Temps anytime soon and I'm going to need the cash."

"Sweetheart, if you agree to be mine I'll give you all the cash you could want."

Your nose wrinkles. "I'm so gonna regret this." There's a faint click! as Eric's fangs appear, his eyes darkening as he readily bites into his wrist. "Don't tell my sister."

Drink up, little one. We're going to have some fun.

#true blood imagine #eric northman imagine #eric northman x reader #eric northman #true blood #sookie stackhouse

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kindness-ricochets · 4 years ago

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I’ve been seeing a lot of thoughts and hc of autistic wylan lately and you seem to also be a fan of the concept. May I ask why? Exactly? I could definitely kinda see it but wanna hear you thoughts you’re always so eloquent

Hey there anon! Sorry for the delay—I’m guessing you already found an answer to this elsewhere while I was off Tumblr for a bit, but just in case, here are my thoughts. This will be heavily personal, but… well, you can’t very well ask an autistic person about autism and expect neutrality!

Autism is different for everyone and can be difficult to pin down, so while Wylan is arguably autistic, he misses several beats that for me would have made him definitively and undeniably autistic. For example, when the bells start to ring, triggering black protocol—I work in a place with a lot of bells and am frequently caught too close to one and normally press my hands over my ears until it’s over because that sound is like shrapnel raking across my insides. All of them. Not just the ear and brain parts. Wylan doesn’t have that sort of visceral reaction, but that may just mean he doesn’t have the same sensitivities that I do, or to the same level. He also never, that I recall, eats meat—as weird as that might sound, eating meat is incredibly complicated with heightened sensitivities to taste and texture. I’m not sure how old I was when I realized it was strange to get up from the table to spit out my food because it viscerally repulsed me. So it might be that Wylan is autistic and has different experiences than I do. Those are things I would include in a story as major indicators of a character being autistic. This might also mean that his father’s way of raising him taught him to hide unusual reactions and stimming behaviors. It’s not that much of a reach to assume a man who tried to abuse the dyslexia out of his son would take the same approach to autism. (More on autism and abuse later.)

So while I’m going to lay out why I read Wylan as autistic, that’s why I think it’s valid to read him as not being autistic as well. Both are valid.

A final caveat, I am well overdue for a reread of the books, so I likely left something out or could have found better examples. Take this as a few of my reasons for a personal headcanon. Anyone who feels differently, that's fine! We can each read things our own way :)

1 - Hyperfixation: The way Wylan loves music

Most of the Crows’ backgrounds color how they see the world: Kaz’s shrewdness, Matthias’s tactical thinking and superstition, Inej’s faith and Suli wisdom, etc. That’s a sign of good character writing. But very little of Wylan’s upbringing seems to have influenced how he sees the world. It comes closest when he thinks about how his father would scorn his new friends, but we never see that scorn from Wylan.

The way a hyperfixation feels, it’s like you’ve always lived in a close parallel world, never fully been a part of the other one where it seems like everyone else lives, but suddenly there’s this bright shining piece of your soul laced through the other world. It lets you connect, it lets you exist in their realm, and you can’t help but filter everything new through that lens because it’s the brightest, most wonderful thing. (I had been between hyperfixations for a while when I started a new job; six months into that work, I read Crooked Kingdom. One of my coworkers thought I had fallen in love, it was that marked a difference.)

So, combining these: Wylan never really acts like he was part of his father’s world, and indeed is in some ways separate from the other Crows, but he parses everything through music, his hyperfixation. He sets words to music to remember them, like he does with the contract. Even his own anxiety is made sense of through music, when in his first narrated chapter, he sets it to music: what am I doing here what am I doing here…. When he’s overwhelmed, his thoughts are “a jangle of misplayed chords”. The Crows have backgrounds that influence how they react to the world, but Wylan’s hyperfixation is his means of experiencing and understanding the world.

2 - Literal thinking: Wylan responds to exact words

In this post, I went into detail on the line where Wylan suggested waking up men to kill them. Wylan is generally unsupportive of killing people—Oomen, Smeet’s clerk, his father… he advocates not-murder in each of these situations. Accepting his aversion to murder, his suggestion to wake men up and kill them seems like a genuine reaction to Jesper saying he doesn’t want to kill unconscious men. Wylan takes things literally.

This happens the most with Jesper, probably because Jesper talks to Wylan the most. Nina and Matthias don’t really register him past how he might be useful, Inej is usually quite direct, and Kaz is very deliberate when he speaks with Wylan. This really interests me because Kaz tends to vary his speech more than the others do, he adapts more to being around other people. He jokes a little with Jesper, spars with Nina, speaks more openly and more sharply with Inej, and he’s precise with Wylan. Kaz may not know what autism is, but he recognizes what’s effective with Wylan.

Another example is when Wylan is sketching the Ice Court plans and Jesper says it looks like a cake. There are plenty of valid responses here: pointing out that concentric circles look like lots of things, that it’s just a sketch, telling Jesper to stop looking over his shoulder. Instead, Wylan says that the Ice Court is sort of like a cake. That… doesn’t sound like something Wylan would normally say. He’s not addressing the whole situation, he’s addressing the specific words Jesper said.

One of the most heartbreaking examples of this (to me, anyway) is with Marya. Wylan does the same thing with his mother, when she asks if he’s there for her money and says she hasn’t got any, and his response is, “I don’t either.” We understand as readers that what Marya is communicating here is that she is so accustomed to being utterly ignored unless she is being used, and if she told Wylan that no one visited but to take advantage and she assumed he was here for the same reason, he would say it wasn’t the case. But he just responds to the immediate statement.

There are a lot of examples of this.

3 — 0% perception, 100% creativity

Wylan can identify things that don’t make sense or that he doesn’t understand, but at the beginning of the series he can’t make leaps, only ask questions. On the Ferolind, he wonders about the source of water at the Ice Court; though Kaz doesn’t say as much, he was clearly wondering, too, because he eventually figured out the underground river. There’s an interesting parallel here where, in the beginning of Crooked Kingdom, Wylan asks a question about how they’ll break into Smeet’s and Kaz tells him to use his eyes instead of running his mouth—at which point Wylan is able to figure it out. I don’t think this is because he never tried before, though, but because no one ever bothered to teach him. Kaz can be harsh but he gives harsh corrections rather than harsh rejections and Wylan learns from him.

It’s hard to understand the world for people with autism. The world is designed and run by and for people whose minds are fundamentally different from ours, whose thoughts and experiences are unlike ours. Imagine trying to learn English or Spanish or Mandarin or any other spoken language if your first language was olfactory. That’s sort of what it’s like for someone with autism to just get dropped into the world and expected to figure this out.

This can be attributed to Wylan’s upbringing, but I disagree with that because none of the others were brought up in the Barrel, either, and Wylan doesn’t understand trade or politics with any special skill. Kaz wasn’t born in the Barrel, but he managed to go from “stealing is wrong” to “wrong isn’t my concern” real quick; Colm Fahey didn’t raise his son on gambling and firefights; the Ghafas never expected their daughter to be away from the family. Only Nina has relevant training—and even that’s precious little, she left school way too early. The others figured it out; Wylan needed a bit more help. He also seems surprised by the way his father conducts business. Wylan takes things on face value—like the time he’s surprised someone would do something, simply because it’s unlawful. This is something he expresses to a group of gangsters. He’s never been taught the way of any world and these things are not intuitive to him.

But Wylan isn’t stupid.

He doesn’t know how to understand the world, but he does understand how things go together. Given a pointy diamond, a handle, and a screw, he cut through Grisha glass. He carries flashbangs and magic napalm, he recreates military hardware—Wylan understands how to make things interact for a specific result. But to me the most telling thing isn’t just that he puts together chemical pieces, it’s that he figured out Jesper controlled bullets. He saw the pieces and put them together.

Wylan can understand when things don’t make sense, but he can’t make sense of them—yet when he understands things at their basic level, he understands them without preconception, for what they are. This is a very autistic way of thinking about things, it goes back to the literalism. He can’t make the leaps of logic other people can, but he also doesn’t make the assumptions they do—“I’ve never heard of a bullet Grisha, so that’s not a thing” vs “Well Jesper’s an almost impossibly good shot and he controls metal and bullets are metal, so why not?”

4 - Broken brain/body connection

Wylan’s great at chemistry and drawing and playing flute or piano—but he’s something of a disaster other times. This is in particular contrast to the other characters, all of whom are physically adept. Meanwhile it’s a challenge for Wylan to climb a rope ladder and he spends a full paragraph trying to figure out what to do with his hands. It’s easy to say, well, he’s used to a sedentary lifestyle, but at this point he’s not. He’s worked in the tannery for months. He’s just physically awkward.

I have less to say on this point only because it’s about something I don’t fully understand myself. I don’t really understand what it would be like to have a body that just… does things? Like normal stuff? Without tics and stims. No idea. Only that Wylan’s discomfort in and seeming lack of mastery of his own body feels very relatable to me.

5 - Abuse

One of the most familiar things about Wylan is how he has been so thoroughly abused and broken down that he’s afraid to do or say much of anything. Again, this is a place his background can be an obscuring factor. Of course Wylan didn’t think to blow up the walls when the first met the parem-juiced jurda and got trapped, he’s a spoiled rich kid! Except, he also startled when Jesper said his name later. Wylan didn’t hesitate because he was spoiled, he hesitated because he had no confidence.

He also thinks Kaz would laugh at him for playing music at his mother’s grave. Now, personally, I can’t see Kaz laughing at Wylan—being indifferent, thinking it’s pointless sentimentality, shaking his head, maybe commenting sharply that they need to go if they don’t have the time. But not laughing. Kaz is a snarky, sharp-edged jerk sometimes, but he doesn’t go out of his way to criticize, he just lets people know when they inconvenience him.

Wylan has been trained to identify attention as negative by an overbearing abusive father who literally saw him as less favorable than a demon. Now, that may have been hyperbole, but Jan criticized everything he could about Wylan—art, music, emotion—and made clear that he was worthless and competent to nothing. (Jan Van Eck can suck a rotten donkey dick but that’s neither here nor there.)

A lot of people with autism experience levels of bullying that have similar impacts. Or as the kids these days are calling it: we go to school. We go to school where we are weird. Where we look weird and move weird and talk about weird things and there’s a whole little bevy of asswipes to makes sure we know it. I got teased more for playing Pokemon and sitting alone reading than the kid who pissed himself onstage at assembly. (This was before Pokemon was cool. I’m old.) And that is not unusual for autistic kids. It’s also not unusual for this to be compounded by relatives or even parents who may be trying to help but don’t understand and can make things even harder.

So we can’t read social cues and we’re taught at a vicious age that everything that comes naturally to us is wrong. Imagine trying to interact in society with that background. There is no guide and most advice from neurotypical people isn’t actually what they mean. It breaks you down.

Wylan’s anxiety isn’t definitive of autism, but isn’t something that was incredibly familiar as someone whose neurodivergent experiences created a strong level of anxiety.

6 — High Compassion, Low Social Competence

Wylan isn’t very good at making friends. In fact, none of the Crows likes him much in the beginning, and only some of them soften toward him by the end. (Matthias and Nina come to respect his skills as a chemist but neither seems to particularly like him.) But you can see throughout the books that Wylan wants to connect with them and be one of them, he just… isn’t. He’s off-beat. He’s weird. He asks questions and mimics behaviors (trying to be cool and tough like Jesper, saying “mission” like Matthias does, imitating Kaz’s scheming face) but he doesn’t quite get how to adapt.

But he still cares about people. Not just them. Everyone. He cares about the people they leave in the ditch outside the prison wagon, he cares about Hanna Smeet, he cares about Alys. He cares about the people who’ll take a hit from Kaz’s sugar caper.

Wylan’s awkward social skills have undeniable big autism energy. I posit his compassion does as well. This is simply who Wylan is, and that means being someone who cares about everyone. I have nothing to back up that this is related to autism. I can say that it’s like me. (Not to brag.) I can’t turn off the part of my brain that says everyone matters. Individuals can opt out of that compassion, but they have it by default. There’s a certain agony in feeling a pull toward and love for just about everyone and yet an inability to develop meaningful connections with them, and that keen loneliness… it just burns.

Again, it’s not definitive of autism, but it’s very similar to an autistic experience.

I said in the beginning that I didn’t think Wylan certainly had autism and I stand by that, but he is a powerfully honest reflection of many people who do. So he can be understood to have autism, and that’s part of the reason some people have that headcanon.

#six of crows #wylan van eck #autism #actually autistic

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formulatrash · 4 years ago

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hi! It’s totally fair if you don’t want to answer this question for whatever reason but, do you think there are any drivers in F1 that are part of the LGBTQ+ community? I don’t want to speculate on anyone’s sexuality, but it is a bit disheartening at times to see no representation whatsoever in the sport that I love so dearly... at the same time, it’s nobody’s duty to become a symbol for the community just because they’re a part of it, so I’d understand if they wanted to keep that low key, especially considering the amount of fans that would hate them for that only. It just makes me sad sometimes, not gonna lie.

I'm not gonna speculate publicly in any specific way, obviously. But statistically, it is impossible that there have never been LGBTQ+ F1 drivers - and actually there were two out ones, in Mike Beuttler (who sadly died of AIDS) and Lella Lombardi.

In other series, there are openly out drivers - in fact W Series seem to be basically incapable of stopping the drivers getting together, which is awesome and they should do it. And also kinda gives a lie to the idea rivals wouldn't.

There is a split between women's and men's sports in that basically sporting ladies seem to be like "wow, fit women time to openly drool over each other" and men being more pressured to keep it strictly no homo. It's nice that F1 drivers lately have been definitely more comfortable with being affectionate to each other and with deviating from very restrictive ideas of masculinity, although obviously that does not in any way imply their sexualities or gender status.

I think there are many reasons to be optimistic that an F1 driver could come out. Motorsport's landscape has changed - and the world, too - but of course, as you say, being the first is a sucky job and not, heh, one of the good kind.

Would they face some challenges? For sure. Some locations would be difficult - the UK, for instance, if a driver came out as trans. God, just imagining the thinkpieces from TERFs has made me nearly pass out.

I am sure there are LGBTQ+ people in the paddock beyond, whether that's in the media cohort (I mean, lmao, I am typing this why do I always exclude myself lol) or in the garages. And of course, the fans. As much as F1 talks about (even pre-pandemic) existing in its own bubble, of course it does not and while demographics are often skewed towards wealth and white western europeans, that doesn't affect the distribution of LGBTQ+ people.

Will it be godawful for the person who takes the first step? Yeah. You can't get away from the fact casual homophobia is pretty rife in F1, I'm regularly appalled by the sort of shitty jokes members of the media - who you'd think might be a bit less stuck in the jurassic period - will default to. Lots of people in F1 think they're a bit hardcore, that that's part of the image of the sport and it comes with both a strict conservatism and edgelord tendencies.

I think, with the right support, though, they'd be ok. Drivers generally have much better support systems now than ever before and god knows, it's cus they need 'em. From social media to the immediacy of reaction, everything from onboards to team radio to their Insta likes is under scrutiny and of course, that's gonna feel pretty oppressive in some ways.

(I know I hate it, as someone who gets a low-level version of it on Twitter)

But would their team or sponsors or the sport at large lose faith? No. And there would be, in the torrent of horrible stuff that's inevitable with any of these things, such support and inspiration.

It's a bit of a burden, being a figurehead and it's very easy to see why, for example, Lewis shrugged it off for a lot of his career because fuck knows, everyone's got enough to be getting on with with just the basic challenges of the career let alone having to be a representative. And it's why, with aspects you're not able to hide, people struggle - whether that's race, gender or whatever.

Living in the closet isn't a very satisfying option, though; which is the most convincing argument for how there might not have been any LGBTQ+ drivers other than the ones we know about. But it's more likely they grinned and bore it, of course. History's littered with people who never got to truly live as themselves.

It's very good having someone like Matt Bishop in a prominent role in F1. Because he can speak beyond the theoretical; that a team can welcome a gay head of communications and the paddock will have to and can work with them. That he's in a relative position of power is great because it means people can't chat shit and that means for someone without that relative power, they're protected by extension.

Who knows when more LGBTQ+ people will come along to the sport - but I think there's reason to be hopeful that they can be there.

#f1 asks

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hyenahunt · 4 years ago

Text

Beast Survival - 8 [END]

Writer: Nishioka Maiko

Season: Summer

Proofreading: royalquintet (JP & ENG)

Hiyori: After all, Jun-kun, you had the ambition to haul yourself up from that bottom rung, the spirit to stand up against those above you, and the determination to cling onto that opportunity.

[Location: Starmony Hall Courtyard]

Leo: Munch, munch, chew—

Aira: Nom, nom — this is the best ♪ It's delicious~! I never knew food could taste sooo good~ ♪

Tatsumi: I wouldn't have thought you'd be able to fish up a sea bream of all things, Jun-san. Impressive work.

Jun: Oh no, it was all luck, honestly. Right back at you, Kazehaya-senpai — thanks so much for handling all the food prep right away.

By stacking up some rocks together, you managed to make us all a simple stove ♪ [1]

Tatsumi: I read about it in a book once, some time ago. Who would have thought it'd come in handy as an idol?

And all that aside, you really went above and beyond in trying out a real-life survival game for the sake of getting into your role.

Jun: Nahhh, at first I just got swept up in the whole thing, really.

But if I'm gonna take up this stageplay role as a professional, I can't give 'em some half-assed work, so I decided to take this chance to really get into character.

Tatsumi: Hmm. Jun-san, you're truly diligent.

Jun: Mmm. Rather than diligence... you could say it's something like pride, maybe.

This is gonna be my first time performing in a stageplay, but that makes no difference to the audience.

Whether it's a big name or a newbie up there performing the lead role, guests still pay the same amount to come and see 'em...

So I believe it's only right that an actor shouldn't betray their level of experience to the audience.

Well, even if I say all that, my lack of experience is gonna jump out in some way.

It'll take time to build up experience, no matter what. There's no way I could rack it all up in a day, right?

But when it comes to learning my role, there's at least something I can do. That's what I figured, anyway.

If it really was something I couldn't do anything about, I would've resigned myself to it, but I don't wanna say something's impossible without even trying it first.

That's the pride I have as a pro in the making, after all.

Tatsumi: Heheh. That sort of attitude is most befitting of an actual professional, and to continue holding onto it is truly a challenge.

So, how did it go? Have you gotten a better grasp on your role?

Jun: Mm, well... Thanks to this experience, I've gained a newfound appreciation for things I normally have around me and my own abilities.

I feel like I now understand what it's like to be in a situation where I've no choice but to do everything with my own two hands, but I don't think I can really say I've completely gotten a grip on my role yet...

Since I'm no prince, much less one who's gotten exiled from his kingdom, I can't quite wrap my head around the sheer weight of responsibilities someone like that's gotta deal with.

Though my old man's a former idol, I grew up in a pretty average household, after all.

Tatsumi: ...Hmm. Jun-san, aren't you overthinking this a little?

Jun: Am I?

Tatsumi: Yes. You took such an impossible mission upon yourself, faced it squarely, and even accomplished it without ever throwing in the towel.

That kind of tenacious spirit and resolve would stay with you no matter what shape or form you take, don't you think?

Jun: ...!

Leo: Hey now~! You two over there! Quit floating off into your own little world and get over here~!

I've just had a flood of inspiration burst forth! Let's sing a survival song with everyone!

Aira: That's riiight! The veggie foil packs are gonna get all burnt, y'knooow!

Tatsumi: Ahh, so they are. I'll be right with you.

Jun: (I get it now... I'd thought I didn't know anything about the animal kingdom, but I was only judging things by my own standards.)

(Though I didn't realise it at first, all the things I felt today could be the very same things animals living out there in the wild experience, huh.)

Leo: Heeey! Namiii~! Hurry up and get over here, toooo~!

Aira: What he saaaid! Sazanami-senpaiii~!

Jun: (Maybe the Hyena Prince would feel all these things, too.)

(What a rag-tag, fun, and reliable group. If this band of merry men is the one I'm gonna be taking back my kingdom with, then well, I guess things aren't so bad after all ♪ )

I heard ya clear as day~ I'm comin' over now—!

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[Location: ES Breakroom]

Jun: Heya, thanks for all your hard work today. Huh? Are you the only one here, Ohii-san?

Hiyori: It seems Adam's running late at their current gig. Work is work so there's no way around it, but keeping me waiting is unacceptable!

Jun: Now, now. I'm sure they're gonna come by soon. Want some tea while you wait?

It looks like they've brought in that black tea you've been wanting to try, Ohii-san. Shall I brew some for you?

Hiyori: Yes, yes. But of course, you shouldn't even need to ask. It's a given that you brew tea for me, yes? It should be as natural as breathing for you!

Jun: There's seriously something wrong with your personality... Ohii-san.

Hiyori: What's this? Jun-kun, you seem like you've made some kind of breakthrough. That's a fine weather! A little while ago you were going around looking like you were dead inside. Did you manage to master your role?

Jun: Mmm~ Well, you could say I'm finally standing on the starting line.

Right, speaking of which. Ohii-san, you told me the other day that I was a good fit for this hyena role, didn't you?

And that I'd just have to remember why. What was that all about?

Hiyori: Hm? — Ahh, yes.

Jun-kun, you were a non-special student, weren't you? As a result, you had no more merit than a pebble on the roadside.

After all, that's the kind of system that school had, but...

Like a messiah, I extended my hand of salvation to you and lifted you up from that place. That's why you should be all the more grateful towards me, of course.

Jun: You really don't have to be so annoying about it, but I mean, it's true. I'm always telling you how grateful I am, aren't I?

But what does that have to do with what you said, Ohii-san?

Hiyori: Well, it's not like I chose you on a complete whim, of course.

After all, Jun-kun, you had the ambition to haul yourself up from that bottom rung, the spirit to stand up against those above you, and the determination to cling onto that opportunity.

That's the very Jun-kun I chose... and with a role like an exiled hyena prince, returning to reclaim his kingdom with the help of his friends — there's no way it wouldn't suit you, right?

Jun: ......!

Hiyori: As I've told you once before, you're a noble beast who can't tell lies. [2]

And you see, that's why I extended a hand to you. Isn't my foresight incredible!

Jun: Can you stop flattering yourself with everything you say? It really doesn't feel like I'm the one being praised at all.

Hiyori: I'm just saying it as it is, of course!

Now, if you just think back to those days in Reimei Academy, to when you'd first met me, then that alone would be enough for you to play the Hyena Prince better than anyone else.

Jun: ...So that's what you mean. If that's the case, then I feel like I could keep playing him all the way until the end. Those days are carved right into my soul, after all.

Hiyori: Exactly! That's why out of everyone out there, you're the one who has to play him! Jun-kun, no one else would understand the Hyena Prince better than you!

Jun: Well then, I should know just how to reply, shouldn't I?

"I'll swallow up all the fruits of your charity, and all the days I've lived through up 'til now — and then I'll show you how I've grown strong enough to hunt my own prey!" [2]

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Translation Notes:

[1]: Specifically a kamado, a traditional Japanese wood/charcoal-fueled cook stove.

[2]: These lines are a direct reference to quotes in Saga - Release 4 (which will hopefully be back up soon!)

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← prev ✦ all ✦

#jun sazanami #aira shiratori #leo tsukinaga #tatsumi kazehaya #hiyori tomoe #enstars #ensemble stars #enstars translation #s: beast survival #era: !!#type: scout #status: complete #hyenahunttl

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hillbillyoracle · 5 years ago

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Some Thoughts on Why White Pagans Need to Heal Their Relationships with Christianity

Note: I've been trying to write a piece like this for months and the only way I know how to write this is to be very vulnerable and personal. So just please keep that in mind as you read this. It isn't very refined and it's something I'm still very much in process with, to borrow a phrase from my charismatic Christian upbringing. It's more a diary entry than a finished piece and none of these thoughts are original or eloquent. My hope it's helpful to see someone thinking through these things though.

If you're white and you don't want to further colonization and imperialism in your spirituality, then going back to Christianity in some form is pretty necessary; to do the work of decolonizing it's doctrines and to prevent taking from traditions that aren't ours.

This is just the conclusion I've arrived at after a lot shadow working in and around both my ancestors and my religious trauma. My ancestors aren't all white Europeans. But given that I'm white and I don't have any way to carry on the traditions of those that weren't, I feel like the best way to honor those non-white ancestors is to go back to the spiritual traditions I do have access to and doing the work of reshaping them into something less harmful.

I have read and intellectually understood that culture forms the foundation of spirituality and that when you remove something from it's originating culture, that concept or tool no longer works properly, if at all. In working with my non-white ancestors, I really got it on a practical and emotional level. There was this sense that they'd love for me to know their traditions but that it required an understanding that just isn't possible for me given my upbringing and disconnection - "you don't know the words and there's no way to find a person who can teach you" as one ancestor put it. It was an important reminder that "this isn't for white people" isn't merely a categorical assertion but a cultural and practical one.

They've generally asked I stick to practices I have a cultural grounding in when honoring them, even though it is not theirs - the cultural and linguistic element is that important to them. They would rather an authentic expression of gratitude and care through a ritual that isn't theirs rather than an imitation of one that is or being left out of my practice all together. Which makes sense to me in a relational way I hadn't fully grasped before.

In working with my white ancestors, I've come to more viscerally understand that the present understanding of Christianity is wildly different than other historical understandings. One thing that surprised me was that some of my more recent ancestors have expressed more discomfort around my queerness and transness than many of my older ancestors but both root their understanding in the Bible. I enjoyed one ancestor who, when I explained that I'm partnered with a woman, to mean that I would have a life of service - "no men to distract you from God" - which I mean is not wrong on several levels. It really highlighted for me that Christian doctrine is far more flexible than I'd initially thought. It challenged ideas I'd picked up through traumatic religious experiences. So much of what I'd assumed was Christianity itself seems to be more Christianity right now.

The historical angle is really important me. One of the things that drove my interest in Paganism was trying to understand what came before Christianity, to connect with whatever had been cut off in that process. The more I've come to learn about imperialism within Europe - how various empires conquered and destroyed localized traditions indigenous to parts of Europe - it clicked for me that my white ancestors did to others what had been done to them. It is intergenerational trauma in a nutshell.

It's also striking to me that so many people term the traditions pagans pull from as "dead" religions or at the very least "not living". For years I took that to mean they were "safe" to take from, that I wouldn't hurt anyone by doing so. But I hadn't really understood the weight of what "dead" meant - that there was no one left alive who could teach me, that I can't live in a context where all of the beliefs, tools, and traditions make intuitive sense. And if it was important to my ancestors who had had a connection to their traditions, then what was I missing by reanimating these traditions without that link?

I don't have a full visceral understanding of what I'm missing to be honest. I have a feeling that'll develop as my practice evolves. But that question alone has marked a pretty important change in how I understand myself spiritually.

The living and cultural element to my practice is more important to me now. For me, just given the family, community, and area I was raised in, that means Christianity is the living tradition I have access to and I've been revisiting it. I was reading an interview the other day with someone who is both a Catholic theologian and a practicing Buddhist. I liked the way he put it when he referred to Catholicism as "one of his sources of wisdom". That better captures my relationship with Christianity that's been unfolding over the last few months.

Making sure that intergenerational spiritual trauma stops as much as possible with me is really important. I had mistakenly thought that meant abandoning Christianity all together, that it was the problem. Which in hindsight, is fucking wild - I hugely fucked up there. There's nothing stopping me from just enacting the harm I learned in the context of Christianity in a different context, a Pagan context. It doesn't get to the root of the issue. At the end of the day, I just want to be sure I do not use my religion, any religion, to further the harms of structural inequality and colonial oppression. That's the goal.

In reading around about this, I've come to feel pretty strongly that one of the best ways to work toward that is to strive toward animism. Animism has been a great antidote to the spiritual entitlement that colonial religions cultivate (including white paganism). Animism also builds a relational spirituality rather than a goal/individual centered one. White paganism isn't inherently animistic since white culture teaches values that undermine quality relationships - individualism, competitiveness, and seeking domination of some fashion in order to feel safe. An animistic lens requires you unlearn those values and cultivate new ones - mutuality, respect, and accountability.

So all this is to say that given my current understanding, I think trying to build a practice out of New Age concepts while trying to avoid appropriation sounds impossible and hellish. I also think it doesn't deal with the work that needs done. I'm choosing to take an animist lens to the living traditions I do have to see if that's a better space for both my spirituality and my evolving understand of decolonizing to grow in.

People will rightly question my use of the term "shadow work" given this perspective. Shadow work is a problematic term for a lot of different reasons that are beyond the scope of this piece. Where I'm at with it right now is that most western religious traditions seem to have some understanding of what we might call shadow work which points to it being important and useful. However they all used different terms given their contexts so I'm still unsure of what term might be the most appropriate given where I'm at. So for right now, you might see me use it less in the title or body of work I write from here on out, but I still might use it as a tag to make it findable. There's a good shot this doesn't go far enough and I'm not sold on this approach. Just know it's something I'm trying to figure out.

So that's where I'm at right now. I think white pagans really need to be more serious about animism at minimum and hopefully also looking at the role living religious traditions play in their current practice as well. I think white pagans' unhealed reactivity around Christianity too often serves as a justification for spiritual appropriation and furthering colonial harm. Changes are definitely needed. What that looks like in practice for individuals will likely vary a ton. I'd love to hear from other folks doing work in this vein. What's worked for you so far? What hasn't? Where are you in the process?

#witchblr #witch #magic #pagan #paganism #A lot of this is inspired by working with the Hierophant more closely

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xirenex · 4 years ago

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The Ex

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Group: Ateez

Member: Jung Wooyoung

Genre: Suggestive, kind of angst

jung wooyoung x fem! reader - bratty reader, marking

Your ex interrupts you on your birthday night to clear things out.

Word count: 1.427

Warnings: mentions of toxic relationship, swearing

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You felt the seat next to you fill with a familiar presence and furrowed your brows while taking a sip from your cocktail. Sitting by yourself on the bar stool, you were enjoying the pleasant air after the party. It was expected for you to cross paths with your ex since your best friend, the birthday girl, had his best friend as her boyfriend but you had been hoping that he would act ignorant to your presence. However being him, it had never been an option in the first place. You were foolish to think so.

“Jung Wooyoung.”

“Y/S/N Y/N”

You both acknowledged the other’s presence but refused to turn your head and see the other’s face. The party was taking place in a cafe that was used as a lounge bar during the night and it was rented out for the night by the birthday girl who was currently in her boyfriend’s embrace. Since the following day was your birthday, you decided as a group to stay in the hotel who consisted this floor as a lounge. As the hour approached to midnight, the party started dying down, none of you were young enough to go crazy for the night and get wasted but instead, most of the people preferred engaging in other physical activities. Your eyes went to where the couple was standing without even bothering to see your ex’s handsome face, Yeosang cuddling your best friend from behind.

“I wonder if we used to look like that...”

Wooyoung murmured, vocalizing your thoughts while he took a casual sip from his drink with his eyes focused forward.

“Because it looks gross.”

The last part, surely you didn’t agree with. Contrary to Wooyoung, Yeosang was the boyfriend that all girls would wish for. For the first time since he sat next to you, you turned to face him, your anger and mocking expression, as usual, obvious on your face.

“It was gross but it was because you were the one doing it. They look cute and you are a brute for denying that.”

A smirk appeared on his lips while he leaned forward as if he was challenging you.

“Oh... so I guess you were into the part where we used to do what Mingi and your bestie is doing downstairs, hidden in a room, right?”

You sighed. He was impossible, arrogant and was getting on your nerves. An unconscious scoff left you as you got your purse and stood up from the bar stool. As you were speaking, you pulled down your skirt as it had went upwards while you were seated.

“As if. You were the worst kisser I’ve ever had a relationship with.”

A big fat lie.

He was perfect in only sexual area and oh boy, wasn’t he aware of it. That was exactly why, you literally disappeared from his side like a magic trick before he could make an opposing remark. Being single was simply perfect during the days when you have just broken up. You loved being able to do what you wanted to without the necessity of asking, waiting or informing someone else. Jung Wooyoung was one of the most jealous and petty partners you’ve ever been with if not the hardest. He definitely was not good for your self esteem since he never resisted other girls coming onto him and never made you feel precious emotionally. He seemed like a good boyfriend from the outside but it was all an illusion created in your head by your attraction towards the men that your friends warned you about.

After all, it started as a fling.

You found yourself being tied to him each day he ran after you in campus. It was just like the Stockholm Syndrome. The line between consent and obligation blurred as you spent time together.

Sex was fine but on an emotional level, you were exhausted. However, the thing that made you snap wasn’t his lack of attention towards you but the fact that another woman answered his call when he was supposed to be abroad on a family trip.

On days like these where your best friends were all lovey-dovey with their significant others and your low alcohol tolerance pushed you to go for the first man you saw, as if your hormones were never stable enough, you wanted someone to stand by your side and accompany you.

Like your passionately clingy ex Jung Wooyoung never did.

To be honest, he tried his best, although his best was way below the average.

By the time you returned to the real world and got rid of the thoughts of the past on your mind created by the emotions, you realized you’ve arrived on your floor in hotel. The elevator came to a stop with a common sound of “ding” and you walked towards your room. In the elevator, just before you got out, you managed to send a text to the birthday girl to inform that you’ll be returning to your room tonight for some rest. Then, you stepped in to your room, hoping for a bath... or so you thought. Strong arms pushed you in before closing the door to trap you between his arms and looked at you straight in the eye.

“The problem is, honey, I was your only true relationship. Knowing you, you wouldn’t stand anyone who didn’t know how to please you.”

He said, giving you the reply you didn’t allow him to upstairs. You had no idea how he managed to follow you to your room without you realizing but you could feel yourself turning red from anger from the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Jung Wooyoung, get out.”

He made no attempt to draw away but instead, he lowered himself down. He was playing you just like a cat playing with its prey.

“You are not being fair to yourself, kitten.”

A slap landed on his face which left a mark. You knew that your hand would hurt after the effect of the adrenaline took off but it was only a small concern when you considered the predator before you. Just when you escaped from the cage formed by his arms and was turning around to get into the restroom so that he could see himself out, he pushed you back, this time making sure to pin your arms to to wall on top of you with a single hand easily.

“I hate you.”

You hissed, suiting to your pet name. Instead of bothering to reply, he grabbed your bottom lip with his and sucked on it hard enough to leave a mark. It was aggressive but hot, although you would never say it to his face. Therefore, you chose to bite his. If you could not make him leave, you would annoy him to death. That was one of the things you were good at. After all, your teacher was him.

“God, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

He rubbed the point between his brows and breathed in with his eyes closed. In reality, he was actually quite sad thinking about the way you strongly rejected him. Everything in your relationship consisted misunderstandings but both of you were too lazy and he was kind of stupid for not pulling you down to sit in order to have a genuine conversation where you two confronted each other because you had no idea what he was going through behind the stage. That, frankly, boiled your blood even more: being left in the dark where you watched as your relationship grew colder was more suffocating than you initially thought.

“Let me go.”

You ordered.

“And leave my room while I’m still asking you nicely.”

He was strong but you were not weak either, you could throw him out since, somehow, you were sure he wouldn’t hurt you. Opening his eyes to look you in the eye once more, you realized that his irises turned darker.

“Oh no, kitten. No one’s leaving this place until you spill every single rubbish in your heart, mind or wherever it is.”

It was not something you were used to but he was fed up. Something was glinting dangerously in his eyes.

“Although I would never call most of the things that would come out of your body rubbish... Anyways, like this, we can have a celebration of our own for your birthday, too, right?”

You gulped. There was a long night waiting for you.

On contrary, the throbbing part of your lower body was looking forward to this confrontation.

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Hi again :) I’m back with a Wooyoung one shot. I hope you are doing well. As for me, the college entrance exam is just around the corner so it’s kind of stressing these days... ANYWAYS I would like to say that I get requests even if I may not be able to write it immediately so... yeah :) I hope you have a nice day/night wherever you are.

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#jung wooyoung #ateez #ateez wooyoung #atiny #wooyoung fic #ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung imagines #ateez smut

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