#offered and then never followed up upon. advice of I just need to buckle down and do it.being unmedicated lol. it's just Too Fucking Much<3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[dragonji]

being a student is always going so well until it Isn't .

[imaginedreamwrite]

Silverfox Sunday-can we finally hear the details on how professor!Ari met the librarian?

“I got tickets to this masquerade event, its held at a bar and its pretty exclusive-“

“-this is it. Are you ready? You look so damn cute!” She gushes over your dress, complimenting you heavily despite going for a safe option.

“And your mask matches! Let’s see if we can’t pin down some hot men…” she squeals in excitement and drags you along behind her, tickets in hand.

“I really don’t think…I don’t know if I’m up for this.” You stop her before the entrance, eyes widening beneath the mask as the entrance is feet from you.

“Y/N, come on! You can’t keep moping because your ex is a complete piece of shit! You deserve to be happy and…” she grins, nudging you with her elbow. “I heard there’s gonna be a lot of hot older men. Hello sugar daddies!”

“I’m not a sugar baby, that’s not me.” You frown, inhibitions making you want to turn and run.

“No one’s saying you have to be a sugar baby but there’s something about older men that just…” she presses her fingers to her lips and kisses them with a soft pop, a chefs kiss as an ode to her desire to experience an older man.

Your hands tug at the skirt of your dress. A nervous tick that you’ve been catering to since you’d arrived, even with reassurance that the skirt of your dress wouldn’t show your ass you still feel the need to give a tug.

You have to admit that its beautiful, with a tiered tulle skirt overlaying silk. The strapless bodice is beaded and intricate with added details in the bandeau top that is neither plain nor square. The dress fits you well and in all reality it makes you feel gorgeous, despite your ex’s best efforts to leave you a mess.

“Just get a drink and relax.” Your friend encourages you to spread your wings and find someone to take the edge off since your breakup, but the idea of finding another boy like your ex is maddening.

Still, you follow her advice and grab a drink. You sip on the mixture of the signature select, and begin to wander the crowds. There’s a dance floor to the far left packed with bodies grinding against each other and a balcony above that’s got people milling about.

You find yourself stopping in the thick of the crowd speaking to each other and drinking merrily, completely unaware of the set of eyes on you. You’re unaware of a man who’s talking quietly among his friends bidding them goodbye, before taking for the stairs.

You’re so drawn in by the atmosphere of this place that you entirely miss the approach of this tall gorgeous Silverfox, until he’s upon you.

“You look a little lost.” His question startles you and you nearly jump out of your skin, your drink splashing against the glass.

“I’m not lost, I’m just…” you find yourself biting down on your bottom lip, watching him as he’s watching you.

He’s got a black and gold mask that’s heavily detailed and seems to be in the style of some Ancient Greek or Roman depictions attached to the front. Its heavily detailed with sharp and crisp edges, adding another layer of intrigue to the man who’s standing before you.

He’s well dressed in a sleek button down shirt tucked into a pair of black dress pants. A slim belt is woven through the loops with a matching gold buckle that’s catching the reflection of the lights overhears.

You know he’s massive, you know he’s gorgeous and he seems to be interested in you.

“I’ve never been to something like this before.” You lift your drink to your lips again, eager to take a sip but his hand stops you.

“You need a cover on your drink, honey.” He offers to take the glass and you let him, startled but not disdained at the use of a pet name.

“These kind of events are exclusive, they’re usually safe but there’s still the typical asshole frat boy that slips in.” His voice is soft yet husky, and its inherently pleasant to your ears.

“I didn’t know.” You state, a shiver coursing through you.

“Tell ya what,” he leans in and you catch the scent of his cologne or aftershave, and practically melt on the spot, “I buy you a drink and you dance with me?”

“That’s all?” You wonder, looking for your friend and finding her dancing with another man who’s clearly a Silverfox.

“One dance, one drink.” He offers you his hand and you take it, pleasantly surprised when he keeps you close to him.

As if he’s safeguarding you.

“What’s your name?” You ask him when you reach the bar, your eyes captivated by his.

“That’ll cost you another drink.” He smirks at you, fingers daintily grazing your arm. “You up for it?”

“Let me finish this one first.”

[boop-le-snoot]

main masterlist ☀️ taglist & faq

hot wheels | natasha romanoff x reader

explicit, 5,2k words, f/f. meet-ugly but still very much wholesome. we love a girlboss. natasha catches some random woman keying her brand new car but decides to be the better person for once and hear the woman out. turns out, being the better person can even get one laid! warnings: singular use of the d-slur, references to an abusive ex, lesbian sex.

[no y/n, no "you", nickname only, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns]

Natasha gave the tall, lanky boy an unimpressed look as she side-stepped the arguing couple to avoid colliding with the annoyed, teary-eyed woman the boy was groveling to. It was nearing rush hour and there was shopping to be done before the heavy NYC traffic could steer her already busy schedule down into an unmanageable chaos.

"But, Foxy, you know I didn't mean it! I love you, more than anything!"

The items on the spy's list were checked off methodically, item after item landing in the cart with a quiet thud as the redhead maneuvered through the isles with tactical precision. The usual afternoon crowd began to fill the store, taking up the so-needed breathing space; Natasha's shopping trip wasn't a moment of leisure and with her neverending to-do list full, she hurried to the self-check-out register, flying through the motions mindlessly.

Scan, place, beep, boop, pay, load up the bags, make way to the car, load up and pedal to the metal.

Scratch that. No, scratch - Natasha's eyes bulged as she neared her shiny, brand new Charger, seeing the obvious defects even from a mile away: the paint, previously cherry red and gleaming in the sun, ruined by a series of thin, gray lines, standing out unpleasantly on the otherwise pristine vehicle.

And the culprit, who's tuft of hair peeked over the hood of the car on the other side of the Charger, almost fully hidden between her car and the large Chevrolet in the next parking spot over.

Natasha's fingers clenched around the handle of the cart as she fought the urge to reach for her knife safely holstered under her leather jacket. "Excuse me?" Tone quiet and deadly, the spy prepared herself to fight or at least slightly shake up the hooligan.

The figure froze, vaguely familiar clothing and a puffy, tear-stained face slowly rising from behind Natasha's car. "In my defense, he deserves it," the girl - Foxy - the one that was arguing in front of the store earlier, declared through a stream of angry tears. "Call the cops if you want, I don't care." It was unclear if the girl recognised her, the Black Widow, as she made no move to run for the hills, just pathetically sniffled, pocketing the keys she used to scratch Natasha's car.

"That's my car," The spy responded flatly, a great deal of amusement crawling into her face as Foxy's eyes bulged, jaw fell slack, horror plain and evident overshadowing the waterworks. Natasha quickly pieced two and two together but patiently waited for the initial shock to subside before popping a question. "A word of advice, if I may?"

Foxy nodded, dumbfounded, frantically scrambling for the contents of her pockets, searching for something with the agility of a panicking cat, more than half of the contents spilling out onto the ground.

Natasha unlocked the car, popping the trunk and loading in her bags as she raised her voice to be heard over the noise of a busy parking lot. "Don't mess with the paint, the insurance will cover it. Slash three tires - not four - or take a swing at the front bumper and the headlights," the trunk slid shut with a quiet click as the spy inspected the damages close-up. Her Charger looked like it was attacked by a pack of aggressive, feral cats with nails of steel. "And always check the number plates before committing acts of vandalism to make sure you're enacting revenge on the right person." The last part was said with a smirk.

As the spy stepped closer to Foxy, she noted the excessive puffiness of her cheeks and the shaking fingers that held a checkbook and a pen. The woman looked torn between terrified and apologetic, worrying her lip between her teeth. "I'm so, so sorry. Todd just got his new car, it's identical to yours and I didn't get the chance to memorize the number plate yet," the offending man's name was said with a pitiful growl. "How much?" She weakly motioned to the ruined bodywork.

"What'd he do?" Natasha didn't resist her curiousity, leaning against the driver's side door and sizing up the other woman. She was pretty, well-dressed and reasonably wealthy on the first sight. "Yeah, he looked like a Todd," The quip slipped from the redhead's lips as she remembered the man from earlier. Foxy looked way too good to be wasting her time on someone who looked like an adolescent that hadn't outgrown his skater boy phase.

Foxy chuckled shyly at Natasha's remark, smoothing a hand over her face. "Lord, where do I even begin..." The sigh was loud and long. "He lived in my apartment rent-free, made me give up my cat by lying about his allergies, went through nine low-wage jobs in two years, did nothing but play video games in his free time and developed a pot addiction, thus spending all his money on it," she began steadily but her tone grew in pitch with every added offence as Natasha's eyebrows climbed higher and higher. "My last straw was when he took out a loan he couldn't pay off to buy his brand new cool car," the words were spat out with venom. "I threw him out last Saturday. He's been following me around all the time," Foxy continued, growing dark in the face. "And then I found out he had been cheating on me for I don't know how long. I just... I just lost it," she finished pathetically, all but crumbling into a pile of human misery.

Natasha's face had frozen into mute disbelief somewhere around the first half of the story, repulsion and astonishment mixing into a flurry of quiet rage on the random woman's behalf. Menfolk were bizarre animals, and as much as the spy felt herself annoyed by her roommates at the tower, she couldn't help but feel relieved that the men surrounding her were far from douchebags of the casual variety. This Todd, however, was no amateur, and had done Foxy really, really dirty.

The redhead made up her mind rather quickly. "That's a lot to unpack," she carefully studied the micro-expressions on the other woman's face. "I have a couple of nice bottles of wine at my place and nobody to share them with. Care for a glass?"

Foxy's eyes widened once more. "I don't- I don't want to take up your time, I mean, I'm sure you've got more important shit to do, like save the world and y'know..." The stammering was followed by a shy look to the side.

So, Foxy had recognised her. And she didn't go running the other way like most people that encountered her in disadvantageous situations did. "I actually don't, I was just getting my shopping done for a lack of better things to do," Natasha lied seamlessly, motioning to the other side of the car. "Hop in." Mission reports and Barton's pizza date could wait.

The woman made quick way around, buckling into the seat in seconds, right before Natasha peeled off from the parking lot towards the Avengers tower at breathtaking speeds. The car was a gift from Tony - one of the rare things he managed to get right - and an absolute pleasure to drive.

"What's your name?" The redhead asked, juggling the steering and her smartphone effortlessly.

The woman rattled of her first and last name on between attempts to fix her runny make-up and wipe the dried snot and tears off her face. "Foxy is a nickname my gramps gave me, said I used to excessively play with fox pelts in the attic when I was a kid," the woman added with a snort, totally oblivious to Natasha's eyebrow raise as the spy read the information on her in-between overtaking slower cars.

Good student, good family life, stable income and good career growth in a prospective sector. What did Foxy even find in a guy like Todd? The most important information, however, was also most pleasing. No ties to any kind of intelligence gathering organizations.

As Natasha parked and popped the trunk once more, the other woman offered a hand with her shopping bags. Friday acknowledged the newcomer, startling her, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and mention, loudly, that if Tony decided to pay them a surprise visit, he may end up castrated or shot on sight, much to Foxy's bashful snickering.

Once the shopping was put away and the wine opened, the spy let herself curl up on the couch opposite the woman who studied her Spartan style apartment with curios eyes. The lack of knick knacks must've been a surprise for her: Natasha's apartment looked bare compared to what she'd seen in other's people's homes but the desire to make the environment more cozy had never been strong enough to actually act upon it. She wasn't used to staying in a place for very long.

"Do you still want to get back at the bastard?" The redhead asked once the first bottle was coming to an end. The alcohol was sitting low, pleasantly warm in their bellies and the food that they'd ordered in the middle of a casual chit-chat lulled them into a state of comfortable stupor.

"I want to gouge his eyes out and wear them as a battle trophy," Foxy was slightly slurring her words, much more affected by the wine than the stoic, experienced agent. "But I guess I can settle for petty crime or arson."

"I'm sensing you didn't tell me the whole list of grievances," true to her words, the spy felt as it there was a possibility quite a few things were being left unsaid.

Foxy sighed once again, placing the empty glass on the table and using her palm to prop her flushed face against it, blankly staring off into the far end of the room. "I came out as bisexual last year and he was giving me so much shit for it. Todd kept pushing for a threesome and when I refused, started accusing me of cheating during our fights, called me a whore a couple of times," the more she spoke, the higher Natasha's anger levels rose.

Not only was a Todd a dick, he was an abusive one. Truly, the grand prize of Asshat Lottery. "I have an idea or three," the spy twirled the remaining red liquid in her glass before downing it. "But it'll have to stay between us two."

"I'm listening," Foxy turned to meet Natasha's face, eyes considerably more alert than seconds before.

A few days past their amicable wine-and-revenge get-together, Natasha's doorbell rang as if she wasn't already had been made aware by Friday that a visitor was coming up to see her. Boxes of hair bleach and dye laid stacked on the living room table, surrounded by jewelry and assorted accessories. A pitcher of fresh sangria topped the ensemble, two clean glasses placed neatly on the tray next to it.

"Hi, Nat," Foxy's smile was a mile wide - a far cry from the sniffling sad sack of a woman the spy had first met. The nickname flowed freely from the woman's lips, as calm as Natasha's own answering grin and greeting. "I gots the stuff," waving her purse about, the woman kicked off her shoes by the door, approaching Natasha with the same smile that seemed to be more effective at lightening up the room than Tony's expensive designer lamps.

As Natasha's plan achieved a solid state, the two women had quickly come to a realization that Natasha was far too recognizable with her signature red hair and over a flurry of text messages, the decision to switch to a warm caramel blonde was made unanimously. Foxy had rebuked any and all Natasha's attempts to affirm she'd be able to do it herself and the spy gave into the other's chiding, relenting to have her hair dyed by a person who at least had a possibility of seeing the back of her head without having to perform acrobatic tricks.

Foxy was an easygoing, non-problematic person. She was fun to have around, quiet but witty, with intelligent eyes and a realistic view on the world. It was something Natasha valued, alongside the lack of probing questions regarding her past or her job - her insides clenched uncomfortably at the thought of having to lie about those things, or even worse, having to admit to the wrongdoings in her past, however Foxy carefully steered away from topics that were sensitive and never gave Natasha as much as a side-eye if the spy appeared to lack some minor detail that normal women her age all seemed to be aware of.

The curiosity had her ready to burst. Nat's natural defense mechanisms were quite confused, not sure what to make of the woman who almost too friendly to be true, but the kindness in her eyes and the sometimes shy, awestruck looks she gave Natasha when she thought the redhead wasn't looking made up for it in spades.

"What do you think?" The noise of the hair dryer finally ceased, Foxy's voice echoing in Natasha's luxuriously large bathroom.

The newly-blonde spy studied her reflection with a tilt to her head. The ombre was a nice touch - her own hair was naturally darker than the caramel and honey blonde she had chosen, so the almost-brown shading at her roots took much away from the contrast between her lighter hair and darker brows. It was just another disguise for the spy, but somehow, this one felt more like home than any of the previous faces she had worn.

"I like it, you were right about the ombre," Natasha voiced her thoughts, eyes sliding over to the smiling woman behind her, feeling the corners of her mouth begin to creep upwards in involuntary response.

"You looked good with red hair, don't misunderstand me," Foxy briefly raised her hands. "But you have a light complexion and lighter colors do wonders for bringing out the youthfulness. Even if we don't have much joy these days, a good hair color is an opportunity to showcase the bit," she briefly touched her own hair in an exaggerated attempt at driving her point home.

The fun part was done, the time came to execute the revenge. It wasn't exactly anything special; rather, the plan was quite simple - let Todd make a fool out of himself in front of his friends and perhaps (a slightly, teensy possibility) get himself arrested. The two women took their time to get dolled up, not too much - but rather, adding just that little bit to themselves to easily attract moderate amounts of attention from men.

The bar was busy, noisy and full of people when the two women stepped through the door. Natasha's eyes scanned the room out of habit, easily spotting the tall, lanky Todd in the far end of the bar, laughing and boozing with equally pathetic-looking man-children. The urge to gag was almost irresistible.

The spy let herself to be led to the bar by Foxy who looked mildly uncomfortable. Natasha was sure that if she was to touch the other woman's face, it would be flaming under the circumstances. "Try to relax a little, I won't bite," with a quip to her companion, Nat ordered them a vodka cranberry each, sitting down with her back to the men. "Tell me when he notices us and starts moving this way."

Foxy nodded minutely, clutching her drink for dear life and taking generous sips to calm herself down and relax like the spy had requested. They talked about everything and nothing in between, Natasha's hand on Foxy's knee crawling closer to her hip as minutes passed by without interruption. Loud noises of men playing darts and drunkenly cheering reached the womens earshot every now and then, causing Foxy to throw increasingly infuriated glances towards her ex-boyfriend and the Black Widow's current victim of choice.

Sitting opposite the perfectly composed, smiling woman, it was clear as day she was, indeed, best of the best. Despite knowing Foxy for only a few days, Natasha managed to pull off a very convincing girlfriend: her body language was nothing short of absolutely besotted and the googly eyes the spy was making had Foxy constantly remind herself that it was only for show. There was no way this gorgeous, incredible human would be interested in someone as plain and ordinary as herself.

"Heads up," Foxy's smile suddenly grew a mile wide as she stared directly at Natasha, eyes alight with fury at the scene about to unfold. Natasha's reply was to briefly tighten the grasp on the other's leg in silent support.

"Hey, baby," Todd was drunk enough for the stench of his breath to reach both women. "Oh, I see you're with a friend," his attempt at flirting only made Natasha scrunch up her face like a cat that accidentally smelled a lemon.

"Leave me alone," Foxy stated firmly, knowing the phrase wouldn't do anything to deter her overzealous ex, but this time - she counted on it.

"It's okay, I can share," the slurred words had a couple of people nearby raise their eyebrows at the audacity.

"I'm not interested," Foxy snapped. "In fact, there is absolutely nothing your freeloading, cheating ass can bring to my table."

The woman radiated satisfaction as gasps sounded out around them; Todd was a regular at this bar and most people there knew him in one way or another. The moment of joy, however, was brief.

"Listen, bitch, you have no business talking to me like that," full of drunken bravado, the man spat angrily, taking unsteady steps closer to Foxy. "What you need is a decent man that can handle your outbursts, not some dyke..." before he could even utter another offensive syllable, Natasha had his wildly gesturing arm twisted painfully behind his back, easily forcing the inebriated man to his knees.

"Wanna try that again, champ?" Sarcasm flowed freely from the spy's lips as the patrons in the bar gasped. The civilian clothing and the new hair color might have been an effective short-term disguise but once the crowd had seen her neat little party trick and had taken a good look at her face, nobody was doubting her identity. "Call the cops, will you?" She addressed the shocked bartender who immediately scrambled to obey.

"I didn't do anything!" Todd cried out, eyes drunkenly darting between the Black Widow's quiet rage and Foxy's grim stone face.

"Huh, that's weird. Because I clearly heard and saw an attempted hate crime," Natasha's voice attained a sardonic tint. "And I have a bar full of witnesses," the spy shrugged, letting go of his arm but keeping a boot firmly planted on his back to prevent him from escaping. "I hope you have a lawyer."

Foxy snorted, reaching for her unfinished second drink. "Tough luck."

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Todd's friends inching closer to the exit door second by second, as if they could stand a chance against a professionally trained secret agent. Luckily for them, Natasha wasn't interested in the remainder of Todd's gang of losers and merely raised an eyebrow when the other men reached the door, a tiny smirk appearing when his pleading eyes didn't cause any reaction in his friends, the spineless worms, hopping out of the door without as much as a goodbye to the man laying face-down on the dirty floor.

As soon as the police arrived, awestruck by one of the NYC's most famous superheroes just casually standing in a bar, they eagerly collected the inebriated offender, briskly escorting Todd to the squad car. The bartender and several other patrons confirmed Natasha's words that an attempted hate crime had taken place. Cops were in and out in less than fifteen minutes and the otherwise-pleasant hole-in-the-wall bar returned to its usual evening bustle.

"Celebratory shots?" Natasha laughed as Foxy exhaled, deep and slow, once her racing heart calmed down.

"My treat," the other woman motioned for the bartender and soon, a line of colorful glasses appeared in front of the women. Each downed a glass easily, slamming it back on the table. "Man, this is everything I never knew I needed," Foxy confessed with a shy smile. "Thanks, Nat. You're the best."

The spy responded with a satisfied smile, picking up another glass and holding it out for a toast. "To revenge well-deserved," the glass clicked, alcohol slid easily down their throats. "So, what now?"

Foxy's eyes shone in the bright lights of the bar, relieved and tipsy. The small empty glass twirled easily between her fingers. "Dunno," the shrug came and went. "Maybe go on vacation. To Florida."

Natasha let out a belly laugh, downing her last shot without as much as a stutter in her movements, Foxy's eyes lingering on the stray drops of alcohol running from the spy's plump lips. "A vacation with the crackheads? Romantic," the quip was received with an eyeroll from the other woman.

"Spoilsport," Foxy, too, finished her booze and placed the money and a hefty tip on the bar, tapping twice to get the bartender's attention. "I meant more like - lay on the beach, sip mimosas, look at sexy people in swimsuits..."

"Florida is for old people," Natasha objected, pulling her leather jacket back on and leading them both outside. The evening air was crisp, bringing a clearer head and re-arranging the thoughts back into a more sensible state.

Foxy easily picked up her pace to match Natasha's precise strides leading them in the direction of the former's building. The warm buzz of vodka coupled with the fresh air and her desire for retribution well-fed, Foxy settled into a comfortable silence next to the spy. They reached the building quickly, their pace brisk and distractions lacking.

"Care for a nightcap?" She didn't know what prompted her to blurt out the words; as soon as the words registered in her brain, they were already out and Foxy's face heated, fingers fumbling for the keys in her pocket, Natasha's touch still warm and lingering on the side of her leg.

The spy seemed amused, studying Foxy's nervous habits with a crooked smirk. "Sure," she agreed amicably, following the woman into the apartment building, not missing both the rigidity of her back and the added spring to her step.

A moderately sized, well-decorated apartment revealed itself behind the open door, scarcely illuminated by the NYC lights coming in from a glass wall in the living room, reflecting the vast living space furnished with a large couch.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Natasha turned around, stepping into the other woman's personal space with the grace of a predator. Two shining eyes stared back at her in the darkness, framed by fluttering lashes. Foxy's bottom lip disappeared behind her teeth, skin gleaming with perspiration.

The recently-turned blonde spy wasted no time caging the other woman between her body and the door, chests almost touching. The air around them was charged, Foxy's heart thudding loudly in her chest as she gulped. Natasha studied her expression, "You want this?" she whispered against her lips, sharing the oxygen between them.

"Ye-yeah," a short nod and a gasp later, the women were devouring each other, grasping at their hands and shoulders like they were drowning. Hot and wet and sharp from the booze, the kisses were as graceless as their fingers haste in removing each other's top layers of clothing.

The sharp corner of the living room archway dug painfully into Foxy's back, bringing an additional sense of awareness: this was real. This was happening. Natasha's blonde locks flowed through Foxy's fingers, soft and silky, a contrast to the teeth pulling on her lip in impatient hunger. Foxy grunted in response, parting from the other woman to send her t-shirt flying somewhere in the direction of the kitchen.

"Bedroom," mere minutes in and she already sounded utterly and throughly ruined.

"Couch," Natasha was equally feverish to get to the good parts. Her belt was unbuckled and the nice button-up she'd worn hung open, a plain white bra iriscendent on her alabaster skin.

Letting herself be led to the couch, Foxy could barely take her eyes off the woman in front of her, making sure she wasn't ogling Natasha outright yet secretly hoping to be caught anyway. The blonde was like a porcelain doll, unreal, firm and soft at the same time.

The moment Foxy gracelessly landed on the couch, Natasha was all up in her space, straddling the other woman with the grace of a savage cat; lips once more attached to her flesh, Natasha left a trail of hot, wet marks starting at the jawline and ending at the cups of Foxy's bra.

Not knowing what to do with her hands, Foxy grasped Natasha's hips, unable to hold back a moan heavy with lust as the spy ground down with her hips. It was exhilarating to see the other woman affected by their heavy make-out session; nothing short of absolutely smitten to see Natasha pull back, panting and disheveled, to shed her shirt and her bra.

Unable to resist the urge, Foxy's hands reached out to cup the spy's round breasts, tugging her closer to pop a rosy nipple into her mouth. Natasha shivered, arching into the caress, holding onto the other woman's hair and tugging it in the direction only she knew.

Natasha wasn't loud, she wasn't wild; her moans were more like muted gasps but her body spoke for her louder than any words: the grinding was getting more impatient, Natasha's hold grew stronger. As Foxy fumbled for the button of Nat's pants, she felt the soft, delicate lace underneath. Natasha had come prepared.

"Hold on," the spy mumbled, hopping off Foxy's lap to quickly push her pants and panties down her legs with practiced ease. The other woman followed suit, leaving herself to be bare besides her underwear, the attempt to remove them intercepted by Natasha. "Let me," quiet words tickled the skin of her throat where Nat had immediately attached her mouth.

Foxy scrambled to intake the oxygen she needed, letting herself feel the hot glide fully, having lost herself in pleasure, missing the exact moment Nat's fingertips breached the waistband of her panties. Soft and nimble, so different to a man's roughened skin, the sensation was as strange as it was sweet. The urge to arch and rock her hips against the nearest surface intensified and Foxy could only keen, quiet and high, causing Natasha to chuckle to herself.

"Enjoying yourself, sweet girl?" The miniscule trace of coyness seeped into the blonde's voice. The engorged, puffy, moist flesh of Foxy's lower lips parted eagerly to Natasha's experimental dip.

"Yeah, yes," the woman slid down, spreading her legs in invitation. "Please, touch me," begging to be filled in all the empty spaces, Foxy threw her head to rest against the back of the couch, watching Nat through unfocused eyes.

"Oh, I will," the spy purred, sliding lower to put her face next to Foxy's dripping cunt. The spy's fingers glistened with arousal and she popped them into her mouth, licking them clean before doing the same to her lover's swollen folds. The response was instantaneous and loud, Foxy shook under Natasha's expert teasing. "Stay still," she ordered quietly, patting Foxy's belly.

Molten, honeyed waves of bliss overtook common sense and awareness, tiny sparks shooting up Foxy's cunt every time Natasha suckled at her clit. The spy read her body like an open book, following the movements of her hips with her mouth, always a step ahead and slightly south. Foxy's peak was imminent, approaching rapidly, as Natasha's sweet merciless assault wrung every single drop of the thick, precious liquid out of her cunt.

It only seemed to gush more, the woman pushing her cunt into Natasha's face as the latter doubled down on her efforts to bring her to ecstasy.

The waves began deep in the pit of Foxy's stomach, making her legs tremble, her toes curl and the flutters of her cunt increase in speed and intensity. Silky soft and typhoon wet, her orgasm crashed her mind into million pieces and Nat dutifully extracted everything until the last drop with the skillful touch of her tongue and fingers.

"Tash," Foxy moaned. Her legs quivered at the slightest touch to her oversensitive cunt.

"Mhm," was the blonde's reply, contented humming getting closer and closer until the womens lips met once more in a fierce, passionate kiss.

Foxy's hands immediately sought purchase on Natasha's hips, searching for the spots that would make the spy's body song in the same way she'd done to Foxy; seemingly much more reserved, quiet but happy sighs broke past Nat's lips in response to gentle hands stroking where she was most sensitive.

"I've got a vibe in my bedroom," clarity finally broke through the orgasm haze, Foxy's brain slowly coming back to reality.

"No, I want your fingers," Natasha's reply was assertive as she moved her hips in tandem with Foxy's hand, dripping the sweetness of her around all over.

The urge to pop the fingers into her mouth was strong, so Foxy did just that, moaning at the tangy taste, Natasha's breath quietly stuttering at the sight in front of her.

"I want to eat you out," the words barely had left Foxy's mouth as Natasha flipped them so she was the one laying on the couch, spread-eagled and open for the other woman's eager mouth to explore. Wet, sloppy and so, so tender, Foxy let herself taste the arousal of her lover.

"Yeah," so soft, one could easily miss it, the approval didn't get lost in the headrush nonetheless. With grace, Foxy sought the spots that would force Natasha to break her silence with slow, broad motions until the blonde had no choice but to arch her hips into the sensations, chasing her pleasure, losing the aura of restraint she'd so carefully cultivated.

No time for self-control. The temperatures were climbing steadily with every single movement, both lost in their imperfect shared rhythm, the soft of Foxy's tongue and fingers like finest silks on Natasha's eager cunt. Two fingers slipped in without resistance, immediately seeking out the soft, spongy spot that made the blonde's toes curl and mouth open in a silent scream.

Foxy's free hand groped around for Natasha's ass hastily, bringing her hips closer to her mouth, tongue never ceasing its assault on the blonde's clit as her body grew more rigid, fingertips going white with the force she was gripping the comforter.

"Gospodi bozhe," came the mumble, the only warning before Natasha's powerful thighs locked Foxy in place as the blonde rode out her orgasm, violently shivering, dousing the other woman's face in her sweet release. Dutifully, Foxy stroked the silk of Natasha's skin everywhere she could reach, her hot breath on the blonde's pussy easing her back to Earth through the aftershocks.

Natasha's eyes opened, feeling her lover's look of adoration, and she cracked a reluctant but genuine smile. There was something about Foxy that was just so-

Natasha taglist (open, see fic hat for info; crossed out nicknames are the ones I couldn't tag, please update your info):

@mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @sapphicnoodle69

[fanficshiddles]

Mine Now, One shot

Thanks for the prompt, had FAR too much fun with this one: I was wondering if you could write a one-shot in which Tom is a murderer who kills people that annoys him and has a therapist that only knows about his issues with controlling his *negative* emotions. She is scared of him and he is aware of it, though she tries not to show it. One day he invites her for dinner and tells her that he is going to confess something important. She can’t reject it because well… He’s nice to her and she kind of likes him. However, when he confesses the truth she freaks out and makes him angry… Smut in the end please! Would be wonderful if you can make her name Cer!

Warnings: rape/non-con

-

Cer was nervous about why one of her clients, Tom, had invited her round to dinner.

It was completely unprofessional to accept the offer, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t find him attractive. But there was something about him that scared her.

He was rather intense. His focus was always on the person he was conversing with, eyes locked on their face. Gauging every little reaction in their face.

Tom was a troubled man, often telling her about he struggled to contain his emotions. Especially the negative ones. She shared some ways to try and help him to focus himself more.

He knew she was scared of him, but he appreciated and respected her for the way she tried to hide that fact. She was intelligent and he did enjoy speaking to her, spilling his troubles and whenever he felt himself spiralling out of control, he would go to her for advice and found he was always calmer after a session with her.

Cer arrived at Tom’s house in the evening, she had taken a taxi because she wasn’t sure whether alcohol would be on the cards or not. So she played it safe, just in-case there was some wine on the go.

The butterflies were awake in her stomach as she went up the path to his front door. It was a nice house, just as she had expected from Tom. He was a suave kind of guy, always wearing a nice suit when he came to see her and always carried himself in a confident and successful kind of way.

She didn’t even get the chance to ring the bell before Tom was at the door, smiling charmingly down at her. ‘Glad you could make it, Cer. Come in, come in.’ He stood to the side and motioned her in.

‘Thank you, Tom.’ Cer smiled and stepped into his home. The first thing she noticed was how clean the place was, and also how it smelled of him. Something that she rather liked about him, was his smell.

‘Let me take your coat.’ He said smoothly, hands already on her shoulders that made her jump very slightly.

‘Oh, thank you.’ She smiled.

Tom took her through to the dining room and poured them both some wine. He sat down opposite her after dishing up the started for them both.

‘So, what is it that you have to tell me?’ Cer asked, keen to know what it was.

His smile dropped a little and his eyebrows knitted together as he looked down at his plate. He then looked back up at her, making intense eye contact.

‘Do you promise you won’t freak out or judge me?’ He asked softly.

‘Of course not.’ Cer said. Thinking it would maybe be something such as he hit an animal by accident perhaps, or that he was into something really wrong sex wise, something he was feeling guilty about.

But she did not expect what the truth was…

‘I… am a murderer. The murders in the city these last few years, with no suspect. It’s me.’ He said boldly, watching her closely.

Cer was stunned at first, taking a moment to process what he had just told her. Tom watched her features, noting how she didn’t blink at all for a moment, then she closed her eyes and opened them again in disbelief. She leaned backwards and Tom noticed her breathing starting to quicken, she was swallowing hard too.

‘You said you wouldn’t freak out or judge me.’ Tom said sternly, frowning.

She was shaken that he was so attentive of her reaction. Scared to the very core…

‘Tom… I… Murder is… This isn’t good.’ She said shakily as she cautiously stood up. Tom just continued to watch her. ‘I… Better go.’ She said quickly and then rushed out of the room, straight for the door.

Tom followed her calmly, but his jaw was clenched as he closed in behind her. She had just gotten the door open, but a hand shot out from behind her and slammed it shut. He was directly behind her, she could feel his breath against the back of her neck.

‘You said you wouldn’t judge me! I trusted you, Cer.’ He growled angrily, watching her shaking as she turned around, back against the door.

‘Please… Tom. Let me go.’ She pleaded.

Tom looked furious as he took another step towards her, his free hand went to her neck and pinned her further against the door. She cried out and grabbed at his forearm, trying to pull him off but he was too strong for her.

‘YOU SAID I COULD TRUST YOU!’ He roared at her.

She genuinely feared for her life in that moment, until he suddenly crashed his lips upon hers roughly. His tongue forced its way into her mouth as he swallowed her moans and whimpers of fear.

Instead of fearing for her life, she now feared over something else as he ripped at her blouse, buttons scattered all over the floor. He didn’t stop there. Tearing at her skirt and underwear, all while shoving his tongue down her throat like he was trying to devour her.

And she was completely helpless against the murderer’s strength.

‘Stop! Please! Tom!’ She gasped when he finally stopped kissing her, but the big grin on his face was enough of an answer for her.

She cried out when he grabbed her hands and held them up above her in one hand, his other delved between her thighs and he growled as he slid his fingers easily through her folds, soon seeking out her clit and toying with it, rolling it between his fingers.

‘No… no…’ She whined, closing her eyes to try and focus on something else, imagining she was anywhere else.

Tom buried his face into her neck and breathed in deep as he continued fingering her, slipping a finger into her cunt when she was wet enough. He suckled on her skin before adding a second finger, curling them against her g spot and forcing another whimper from her.

‘You’re wet, pet. Don’t say you’re not enjoying this.’ He growled. ‘You hurt my feelings, Cer. I told you my deepest secret, something I haven’t shared with anyone else.’

He continued rubbing against that sweet spot within her while his thumb covered her clit, making her mewl.

‘Did you think I would hurt you? Hmm? I would never do that, Cer. You mean far too much to me.’ He spoke calmly now, while slowly stroking her inside and on her clit.

Cer wanted to fall for his charming talk, but she couldn’t ignore the fact he was a murderer. It all made so much sense now, when he came to speak to her. All the warnings signs were there, had she really not taken them in at all? Or had she just not wanted to believe it…

Tom removed his hand from between her thighs and let go of her wrists. She thought perhaps he was going to let her go, but it was wishful thinking. He grabbed her thighs and hiked them up around his waist, making her yelp as he pressed firmly against her, she couldn’t do anything but wrap her arms around his neck for more support. She could feel his bulge against her cunt, the buckle of his belt against her bare skin.

His nose against her cheek, he started to free himself while he kept her up against the door with his upper body. ‘I know you’re scared, Cer. But there’s no need to be.’ He pulled his cock out, she could feel his pre cum smearing against her inner thigh as he then lined himself up with her.

‘I will look after you, darling. Besides….’ He then pushed the tip against her, slowly breaching her. ‘If I was going to kill you, I’d have done it by now.’ He growled as he thrust sharply up into her, making her scream.

Tom snarled as he felt her clamping around him, getting used to the intrusion. She was so tight, so warm. He had fantasised about claiming her for such a long time now. And now, finally, he was inside of her.

He started fucking her hard against the door, and to Cer’s embarrassment she was enjoying it far too much. She had expected he would be good in the sex department… But not this good.

It didn’t take that long before he made her cum all over his cock, smirking smugly. ‘I look after what’s mine, Cer.’ He licked her neck and then nibbled her earlobe.

He thrust into her hard and stilled, to Cer’s horror she felt him cum inside of her. Marking her from the inside.

‘And you’re mine now.’

[agentrouka-blog]

What changed the finale of GOT? What makes Westeros a better place? We see Bran pulling a full Robert and not bothering to even going to his smallcouncil meetings. Leaving Tyrion as a Jon Arryn of sorts. Nothing changed from the pillot. Part 1.

Furthermore the script says that a better future awaits Westeros because Sam, Davis and Brienne are better people. Wasn't Martin the one who criricized Tolkienn for his medieval filosophy of good man=good ruler. Where is the Aragorn tax police here? Brothels? So they are good people and Westeros is gonna be well. Part 2

It reads like Jaehaerys smallcouncil with good people such as Septon Barth or ser Rryam Redwyne. But as they died they were replaced by the likes of ser Otto Hightower and ser Cryston Cole. What stops Brienne or Sam succesor from being luke these men? What stops in the next royal election a person like Alejandro Borgia from being elected? What are the countermeasures of the new system?part 3.

Martin said that the Targ flaw was building the system on dragonpower and that the smallcouncil was never a countermeasure of this. So what does the finale of thhe series accomplish on the mark Martin story? What has changed for the better in Westeros? Why does it feels like we are back politically in the pilot. Does Martin or D&D think that some "elections" magiccally fix everything and makes a better world? That's the thinking of a kid? What does the finale accomplish?

Oh dear. Where to start? Oh yes: You are absolutely right.

Honestly, I think politically, the finale has only a vague resemblance to the book ending. I would not lay this on Martin’s feet. I mean, what is he going to say in interviews “Actually, they left out all the good parts and delivered a stupid version of half the ending. The real ending goes as follows…” Hardly. 

He said 

How will it all end? I hear people asking. The same ending as the show?  Different?

Well… yes.  And no.  And yes.   And no.   And yes.   And no.   And yes.

It’s, at best, a partial ending. Most likely, a fraction. How can you resolve an issue you never introduce in the first place?

They already left out much of the physical misery the books prepare us for: starvation, sweeping illness, the roaving displaced, the siege situation around King’s Landing that may prompt political compromise. The political finagling that would lead to a Big Council in the first place. They reduced the fate of Westeros to the presence of a handful of Lords and Ladies at a meeting in a Dragon Pit. It’s condensed beyond recognition.So, yeah, politically, the finale of the tv show makes absolutely zero sense. I understand your frustration.

They will all need each other to survive the winter, most likely, but at the same time, you can’t change a feudal system over night. Maybe just replacing the central power of the Iron Throne with something multifaceted would be useful. Maybe the council could be more permanent? Who knows?? I’m not too invested in predicting it. But it is likely to make sense. GRRM has built his story around knowing the ending. It will not be stupid.

We know Catelyn suggested the Great Council all the way back in ACOK. It’s mentioned three times in the ASOIAF books, and tons more in the accompanying literature.

Jon was not entirely innocent of the history of the realm; his own maester had seen to that. “That was the year of the Great Council,” he said. “The lords passed over Prince Aerion’s infant son and Prince Daeron’s daughter and gave the crown to Aegon.” “Yes and no. First they offered it, quietly, to Aemon. And quietly he refused. The gods meant for him to serve, not to rule, he told them. He had sworn a vow and would not break it, though the High Septon himself offered to absolve him. Well, no sane man wanted any blood of Aerion’s on the throne, and Daeron’s girl was a lackwit besides being female, so they had no choice but to turn to Aemon’s younger brother—Aegon, the Fifth of His Name. Aegon the Unlikely, they called him, born the fourth son of a fourth son. Aemon knew, and rightly, that if he remained at court those who disliked his brother’s rule would seek to use him, so he came to the Wall. And here he has remained, while his brother and his brother’s son and his son each reigned and died in turn, until Jaime Lannister put an end to the line of the Dragonkings.” (ACOK, Jon)

Not sure it will go down quite like this. The dynamics are different. But Jon wouldn’t be happy on the Iron Throne. He wants to frolick in the northern Snows with a Lady wife and plentiful babies.

“Robb will set aside his crown if you and your brother will do the same,” she said,hoping it was true. She would make it true if she must; Robb would listen to her, even if his lords would not. “Let the three of you call for a Great Council, such as the realm has not seen for a hundred years. We will send to Winterfell, so Bran may tell his tale and all men may know the Lannisters for the true usurpers. Let the assembled lords of the Seven Kingdoms choose who shall rule them.” Renly laughed. “Tell me, my lady, do direwolves vote on who should lead the pack?” Brienne brought the king’s gauntlets and greathelm, crowned with golden antlers that would add a foot and a half to his height. “The time for talk is done. Now we see who is stronger.” Renly pulled a lobstered green-and-gold gauntlet over his left hand, while Brienne knelt to buckle on his belt, heavy with the weight of longsword and dagger. “I beg you in the name of the Mother,” Catelyn began when a sudden gust of wind flung open the door of the tent. (ACOK, Catelyn)

When more women have a say, things will go down a bit better, yes? Yara, Arianne, Meera, ..?

Jon was tired. I need sleep. He had been up half the night poring over maps, writing letters, and making plans with Maester Aemon. Even after stumbling into his narrow bed, rest had not come easily. He knew what he would face today, and found himself tossing restlessly as he brooded on Maester Aemon’s final words. “Allow me to give my lord one last piece of counsel,” the old man had said, “the same counsel that I once gave my brother when we parted for the last time. He was three-and-thirty when the Great Council chose him to mount the Iron Throne. A man grown with sons of his own, yet in some ways still a boy. Egg had an innocence to him, a sweetness we all loved. Kill the boy within you, I told him the day I took ship for the Wall. It takes a man to rule. An Aegon, not an Egg. Kill the boy and let the man be born.” The old man felt Jon’s face. “You are half the age that Egg was, and your own burden is a crueler one, I fear. You will have little joy of your command, but I think you have the strength in you to do the things that must be done. Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born.” (ADWD, Jon)

I know we all love Maester Aemon, but I actually think he was full of manure. Don’t kill the boy. Dare to dream. If it goes down in a similar way, Jon will not be giving Bran that same advice.

My own personal favorite idea is, indeed, a permanent Great Council of several independent kinddoms and regions.

To resolve the matter of his heir once and for all, Jaehaerys called the first Great Council in the year 101 AC, to put the matter before the lords of the realm. And from all corners of the realm the lords came. No castle could hold so many save for Harrenhal, so it was there that they gathered. The lords, great and small, came with their trains of bannermen, knights, squires, grooms, and servants. And behind them came yet more—the camp followers and washerwomen, the hawkers and smiths and carters. Thousands of tents sprang up over the moons, until the castle town of Harrenton was accounted the fourth largest city of the Realm. (The World of Ice and Fire: The Targaeryen Kings: Jaeharys I) 

Wouldn’t that be the sweetest irony? If the true ending to the Targaryen kingship led to a permanent council set up in the very geographic center of Westeros by the God’s Eye, making use of the castle that was just finished and doomed when Aegon started conquering Westeros? WHY have we spent so much time in that ruin if it is not meant to serve a purpose in the future? For a sort of parliament?

Let’s let King’s Landing become a port city, if it is to be rebuilt. Let the seat of power become something entirely new. I would love that. 

[imagitory]

HPHM Profile: Carewyn Cromwell

<<<updated: 12/6/2020 // original template by @hogwarts-misery >>>

“I can’t just live my life however I want! Maybe I want to — sometimes I want to — sometimes I want to so much that I think of just saying ‘forget the Cursed Vaults! Forget about R and their death threats and the fear and the not-knowing-what’s-coming!’ But...I can’t. As long as Jacob is out there — as long as I don’t know whether he’s alive or dead — whether he needs my help or not — how can I put myself first?! How can I justify chasing the Quidditch Cup, or joining the Dueling Club, or singing in the Frog Choir, when anything great I might do won’t mean a thing, without my brother there cheering me on whether I win or lose!? How can I fight for my dreams...while not knowing if Jacob will be able to share them with me? What sort of person would I be? What sort of disgusting — selfish — cowardly — terrible person would I be, if I abandoned him!? How could I face my mum again — face myself again — if I just threw my brother away?!”

[PROFILE]

NAME | Carewyn Lane Cromwell

NICKNAMES | Carey (by her friends, especially Bill, Charlie, and Tonks); Winnie (by her mother); Pip, Pippa (by Jacob); Cursebreaker (by Andre) [Note: In AUs, Jacob calls Carewyn “Wyn” instead of Pip, as “Pippa” is a reference to the Robert Browning poem “Pippa Passes,” which often doesn’t exist in other universes. XD]

GENDER | Female (cisgender)

SEXUAL / ROMANTIC ORIENTATION | Asexual / Panromantic

[PERSONALITY]

In some ways, Carewyn is an ideal heroine. A bright, compassionate girl, she often finds herself drawn to those less confident than her and feels the urge to protect and take care of them. Even when she was very little, she ended up “mothering” her older brother Jacob by encouraging him to eat and sleep more and offering advice, just as much as he often “fathered” her by inspiring her and shielding her from any perceived threats. But don’t mistake this young Cursebreaker for a saint -- Carewyn actually is an incredibly proud person who protects her fragile, sensitive heart with a hard shell of seemingly unbreakable confidence and cool insight. There is nothing she hates more than showing her insecurities and fears, and so she does her best to always look her best and put her best face forward no matter what, even around the people she cares about. This means that almost none of her many friends have any idea about the demons Carewyn is secretly fighting in her pursuit of the Cursed Vaults and her brother. Carewyn dresses the part for whatever situation she’s in, and she always feels most comfortable when she feels in control and believes she has the moral high ground -- admittedly her moral compass is pretty strong on its own, but she also buries any more selfish and meaner feelings she has as deep as she can, pushing herself to be the best, most moral person she can be, even if it’s difficult for her. She wants to be everything that everyone needs, and unfortunately that can result in Carewyn setting standards that are way too high for herself and secretly resenting and berating herself whenever she falls short, or worse not even participating in something she thinks she can’t put all of herself into or wouldn’t do well in. Her self-loathing is so strong that when something traumatic happens to her (such as Jacob’s disappearance or the death of Redacted), she can suffer from severe spells of depression where she neglects her own well-being and as a consequence forcibly removes herself from the people around her so as not to let others see her in such a terrible state. Because of her own high standards for herself, as well, Carewyn also can be judgmental of others, not being prone to change her mind about a person easily. When backed into a corner, Carewyn can freeze up, but when her own self-preservation or her loved ones are threatened, she can bite back really hard, though she’ll almost always regret losing control after the fact. Carewyn has a very organized mind and works best when she has a plan and knows where she’s going at any given time -- ambiguity and mystery are not this girl’s friends. This sadly can result in her being a real stick in the mud, which makes her an easy target for pranks and mischief. Fortunately, despite her overly serious attitude, Carewyn has a nice dry sense of humor and is a very passionate, driven person. In her fifth year, she was even made a Prefect largely due to her protective, nurturing instincts, though it’s good to note that that doesn’t make her a rule follower. Carewyn only respects rules and the people enforcing them if they have earned her respect and she sees the reasoning behind them. If there’s one thing Carewyn can’t stand, it’s condescension. Carewyn’s core interests are singing (her favorite wizard band is the Weird Sisters and her favorite Muggle band is the Eurythmics), Charms, magical history, and magical creatures.

[BIOGRAPHY]

DATE OF BIRTH | August 29, 1973 (Virgo)

BLOOD STATUS | Half-Blood

FAMILY INFO | Carewyn is the second child and only daughter of Evan Bach and Lane Cromwell. Carewyn’s mother Lane alienated her parents, younger brother, and older sisters -- a well-respected, but very overbearing magical family called the Cromwells -- upon moving to Wales and marrying Evan, who was a Muggle. Unfortunately Evan and Lane’s marriage took a turn for the worse after Jacob was born. Jacob’s magical abilities peeked through at an early age and were interpreted by Evan as deliberate misbehavior despite Lane’s best attempts to diffuse any tension. Nine years into their marriage, Evan and Lane were surprised by a late addition to the family -- their daughter, Carewyn. Rather than bringing Evan and Lane closer together, however, Carewyn’s arrival only seemed to drive Evan further away, as he already had had no instincts about how to be a father to Jacob and felt even less sure about how to raise a daughter. Deciding it was better to give up and just let Lane do what was best rather than mess up, Evan withdrew from Carewyn almost completely, leaving Lane and even his son Jacob to look after her. Fortunately Jacob, an nine-year-old boy at the time of Carewyn’s birth, adored his little sister immediately and went out of his way to coddle and protect her however he could. When Jacob turned 11 and received his Hogwarts letter, Lane was finally allowed by law to tell Evan about her magical heritage and the Wizarding World, but by that point, Evan and Lane’s marriage was so rocky that the revelation finally made it buckle and fall apart. Evan left his family that very night, leaving Lane heartbroken. Knowing her family would insist upon her returning to their estate in Yorkshire if she went to them for financial help, Lane instead charted out alone and raised her two children completely on her own while working as a magical historian and Runes expert. Although Lane, Jacob, and Carewyn lived in poverty for almost all of Jacob’s school career and Carewyn’s childhood, the Cromwells managed to dig their way out of debt a year before Jacob disappeared, now sitting on the perimeter of “lower-middle class.”

MYERS-BRIGGS TYPE | INFJ “The Advocate”

[MAGICAL ABILITIES]

WAND | Hornbeam and dragon heartstring, 11 inches, inflexible (broken by Rakepick) // Laurel and phoenix feather, 12 inches, unyielding (nicknamed her “Excalibur wand”)

BOGGART | Voldemort [Carewyn’s greatest fear is a threat she has no hope of overcoming, fighting, escaping, or controlling...which, yeah, is Voldemort in a nutshell!]

ANIMAGUS FORM (IF ANY) | Robin

PATRONUS | Abraxan Winged Horse

[AFFILIATION]

HOUSE | Slytherin

QUIDDITCH POSITION (IF ANY) | She prefers playing Chaser in Quidditch friendlies, but she’s been reluctant to commit to the Slytherin team due to her extreme focus on finding her brother and fear of letting Orion and the others down.

PREFECT? | Yup!

[ACADEMICS]

BEST CLASS(ES) | Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, History of Magic (thanks to her mum!)

WORST CLASS(ES) | Transfiguration, Divination

OWL SCORES | 

Charms - O

Transfiguration - O

Potions - O

Herbology - O

History of Magic - O

Care of Magical Creatures - O 

Defense Against the Dark Arts - O

[RELATIONSHIPS]

PARTNERS |

Andre — In the beginning, Carewyn was completely and totally dedicated romantically to Andre, having attended the Celestial Ball and gone on two dates with him. In the darkest part of her heart, though she was a bit afraid that she wouldn’t be “exciting” enough for Andre in the long term, given that he’s always been quite popular and outgoing and she’s only really gotten any esteem at Hogwarts for being a Cursebreaker, which she didn’t really ever want to be. Add onto this some tension brought on by the All-Wizard Tournament where Andre got so obsessed with winning that he took help from his girlfriend and then flat-out didn’t even consider helping her in return and Carewyn’s severe trust issues, and soon the two had a lot of trouble communicating properly. When times were good, they had a lot of fun together, but if they ever weren’t, the two just couldn’t seem to connect and fix it as a team. Not long after the All-Wizard Tournament, Carewyn finally told Andre she needed a break, and after a talk, they decided it was better to end their romantic relationship and try just being friends again. Despite the break-up, they both remain incredibly fond of each other and respect each other deeply.

Chiara — In the beginning of my game-playing journey, I had considered matching Carewyn with Chiara in the long-term. Ever since they first met, Carewyn has both identified with and greatly admired Chiara. Even if Chiara has had such a rough life, she remains ever gentle, kind, and forgiving -- everything, in essence, that Carewyn wants and tries to be -- all without seemingly even trying. She’s never expected anything from Carewyn, no matter how big her reputation as a Cursebreaker has grown, and is always supportive of her choices. She even wants to Heal others, even if her werewolf form is so hell-bent on destruction and harm. Chiara, meanwhile, identifies with and admires Carewyn just as much for her nurturing, sensitive heart, and thinks she’s one of the bravest people she knows. She understands Carewyn’s self-loathing from a first-hand perspective since she struggles with it herself, but she can’t understand it in the sense that she sees Carewyn as a truly wonderful, strong person who should be able to love herself just as much as she loves others. Carewyn frequently spends time with Chiara in her Animagus form during the full moon to keep her company, singing sweet songs to brighten her darker nights. A Chiara/Carewyn ending would’ve been what I considered the “Peaceful” ending, AKA the “Soft uwu” ending -- but it also sort of struck me that the two’s personalities and demons were similar enough that there wouldn’t be as much chance for growth for both of them, and there wouldn’t be as much action or engaging contrast in their interactions, as they would both be pretty universally supportive of each other except when they’re blocking the other out ���for their own good.” Even if Carewyn doesn’t end up with Chiara romantically, though, she cherishes her as a friend and would do anything to make her happy.

Diego —  This option sort of came out of nowhere, but quickly developed from a crackship into a genuine ship for me, given that like Chiara, Diego would be able to bring some sunlight into Carewyn’s life and be a dependable partner who wouldn’t put high expectations on Carewyn’s shoulders. As for Carewyn, she finds Diego’s flirting absolutely hysterical. Part of this is because Carewyn herself is asexual, but she also just isn’t the sort to actively “flirt” with people. Funnily enough, however, Diego’s charm does end up endearing him to Carewyn anyway, though not for the reason it might charm others! Although she does find his behavior funny, she can still tell he’s sincerely trying to compliment the people he’s talking to, and he’s also amazingly modest despite his clear talent at wizard dueling. Add onto this that he likes dancing, and music-loving!Carewyn has found he’s an all-around pretty fun guy to spend time with. Diego also isn’t turned off in the slightest by Carewyn finding amusement in his flirting, either -- if anything, he finds it rather endearing, as Carewyn is usually so serious and he thinks she should laugh more often. A Diego/Carewyn ending would’ve been what I considered the “Fun” ending, AKA the “Romcom” ending -- but it also felt as though it was an ending that could only come to be and work well in peaceful times, with Diego not being as well-equipped in dealing with Carewyn’s darker spells or in dealing with more serious issues or deep heart-to-heart conversations.

Orion — This, after a lot of deliberation, is the final end-game ship I’ve decided for Carewyn post-Second-Wizarding-War. Orion really wasn’t what Carewyn expected out of a Quidditch captain when they first met in her third year and his fourth, but being related to two Ravenclaws, she actually finds his vague, philosophical bent kind of refreshing. It can still frustrate her sometimes due to her desire to plan ahead, but she sees how his off-kilter affect keeps others on their toes and, therefore, can shift control over a situation his way. (Rather appropriate display of cleverness, for a Slytherin.) Learning his backstory prompts a lot of empathy from Carewyn as well, given that she also didn’t have any real friends before attending Hogwarts, and she greatly admires how wise Orion has become both about himself and about life, even after going through what he’s gone through. After being on his team for that short time, Carewyn’s developed a lot of respect for Orion, and even after leaving, she’s remained very supportive of her house team and especially of Orion as their leader. Even if Carewyn’s not on the team, she keeps up with Quidditch not just out of love for the sport, but because of her desire to see Orion’s team do well. As for Orion, he got the sense they were kindred spirits ever since they first played side-by-side in the match against Hufflepuff and quietly laments that she’s never been a permanent member of his team. He frequently cites that Carewyn has “more fire than a Firecrab” -- although he can find it a bit overpowering at times, her passion was the thing that first sparked his interest in her, and over the years, Orion has come to see her as an equal, admiring her not just for that passion, but for her determination, courage, and selflessness. Orion and Carewyn are also both incredibly insightful, thoughtful, sensitive people who have the tendency to “create a family” out of their friends that they support and nurture in an almost parental manner. After Carewyn left the Slytherin team after the match against Hufflepuff, Orion attempted to persuade Carewyn to rejoin several times over the years due to his lingering fondness for her, even though he’s always respected her decision not to. It’s only after Carewyn returns to the team to help Slytherin win the Quidditch Cup for the first time in ten years and gets injured in the process that Orion learns that he and Carewyn have the same Patronus -- an Abraxan Winged Horse -- which, according to the old wives’ tale, suggests that they are soul mates. By then, however, Orion is set to graduate within weeks and he knows that Carewyn’s life is of course consumed with dealing with the Vaults. And so he decides not to pursue the chance of a relationship solely based on a superstition, however much he regrets his lack of action later. As adults, the two reconnect after the end of the Second Wizarding War and an unconventional romance starts between the two. This endgame ship gives Carewyn both things I wanted for her while shipping Chiara/Carewyn and Diego/Carewyn -- peace and fun -- while also matching her with someone who can bring some balance and positivity to her life and help her let go of her inner demons and yet who she can also defend, protect, and love with all of her fire. And because of their differences -- Orion being so chill, passive, and philosophical and Carewyn being so sensible, perfectionistic, and passionate -- they’ll constantly contrast and challenge each other too.

FRIENDS |

Bill —  The Weasley family overall filled the void in Carewyn’s heart that Jacob left behind, none more so than Bill. Carewyn adores Bill like few others and supports him in his Cursebreaking 110%, to the extent that she probably would help him do it even if it didn’t involve the Cursed Vaults. Bill quasi-“adopts” Carewyn into his family pretty early on, but only grows closer to and fonder of her over time, as she’s the first person who he’s ever been able to lean on the way he always let his siblings lean on him. Bill’s accompanied Carewyn to every single Cursed Vault, and he is her right-hand man when it comes to who she’d pick to help her with something dangerous. By the time Bill’s graduated, the two stand on relatively equal footing despite their age gap, and after the death of Redacted, Bill and Carewyn solidly become each other’s best friend and confidante, leaning on and supporting each other more than anyone else. The rest of Carewyn’s friend group likes to jokingly refer to her and Bill as the “Mum” and “Dad” of the group, given their shared tendency to “parent” the others. Bill was the one who coined the nickname “Carey” for Carewyn, and the rest of her friend group has totally run with it since, none more so than Charlie and Tonks.

Charlie — If Bill is Carewyn’s surrogate big brother, Charlie is Carewyn’s twin brother from another mother. Carewyn loves talking about dragons with Charlie. (They’re just so cool!) Charlie and Carewyn also like playing in Quidditch friendlies together, even if they’re in different houses, and they can often be seen handling Prefect duties together. Ever since Charlie, Bill, and Carewyn went into the Portrait Vault with Ben and Merula, the two Weasley boys and Carewyn have been closer than ever. Charlie and Carewyn in particular have latched onto each other in Bill’s absence, given how close both of them were to him. As adults post-Hogwarts, Charlie frequently crashes on Carewyn’s couch whenever he flies in for a visit from Romania, if his mother doesn’t insist upon him staying at the Burrow. Charlie and Carewyn refer to themselves as a pair as “Fireballs,” because Chinese Fireballs are the only dragons known to live among their own kind -- and so the word represents how Charlie and Carewyn see each other as kindred spirits.

Rowan — Rowan was Carewyn’s first friend at Hogwarts, but recently they’ve sort of been growing apart, due to Rowan’s extreme focus on academics and Carewyn’s extreme focus on finding her brother. For Carewyn, it feels like she’s changed a lot in five years -- starting as the shunned younger sister of the delinquent Jacob Cromwell and growing into a renowned Cursebreaker who has learned so much and made so many different friends and now tries to protect Hogwarts and her fellow students however she can -- while Rowan has rigidly stayed put where she was, remaining as studious and socially awkward as ever. Carewyn doesn’t resent Rowan for this -- on the contrary, she’s always admired Rowan’s single-minded ambition to be the youngest professor in Hogwarts history, damn what anyone else says, and wishes she had the luxury of chasing her own dreams that doggedly. But at the same time, Carewyn wouldn’t have felt good about herself, if she’d stayed the way she’d been when she first arrived. She sees herself as having been weaker, less competent, and less capable back then, while Rowan was always so brilliant and both emotionally and intellectually ahead of everyone else. Rowan and Carewyn have grown into very different people over the last five years, but Carewyn still loves and treasures Rowan like few people in the world as her first real friend and the friend that in some ways she wishes she could be more like.

Talbott  — The two at first didn’t see eye-to-eye at all, given that Talbott tends to hide most of his positive emotions at first and Carewyn hides her negative emotions constantly --- but once the ice broke between them, the two really connected and became good friends. Carewyn loves Talbott’s sense of humor and was also pleasantly surprised to find out what a great writer he is! She often volunteers to read whatever he’s working on, which kind of weirds Talbott out, but he secretly is happy she likes his stuff. When Carewyn wants some peace, she’ll take some time to fly around in her robin Animagus form, and she always loves it when Talbott joins her for a flight around the grounds. Carewyn often sings little tweeted songs the entire way, and even if Talbott teases her for it, he does actually really enjoy it. Post-Hogwarts they work together a lot, as Talbott is an Auror and Carewyn is a lawyer.

Ben — Ben was one of the very first people who Carewyn took under her wing, and even now, she remains a bit protective of him. She was always really proud whenever he expressed more courage and initiative in the past, but with the advent of sixth year, Ben has grown a lot more reckless and blunt, to the extent he could easily get himself into a dangerous situation and get hurt. Carewyn isn’t sure at all how to react to the development, but she doesn’t like it -- not one bit. Ben himself is struggling with how much Carewyn wants to look at him as someone to protect while never letting anyone else do the same for her. Because he’s known her longer than most, he’s seen Carewyn’s own dramatic transformation from a quiet, but overemotional little girl into a micromanaging, fussing, stoic, confident Mama Bear, and as much as he’s glad Carewyn’s gotten more confidence, he laments being on equal footing with his friend and feeling like he could help her as much as she helps him. Once they get their emotions and issues sorted, Ben and Carewyn become closer than ever, to the point that he, Merula, Charlie, and Bill are co-leader of the Circle of Khanna with Carewyn.

Barnaby — At first Carewyn couldn’t help but look down on Barnaby a bit given how dim he could be, but once he agreed to help her, she was surprised by how sincere and sweet he really was. Soon enough she felt her protective instincts kick in, and now she’s incredibly encouraging and supportive of him. These days you can usually see them chatting excitedly about magical creatures together in class -- Carewyn’s really happy to see Barnaby succeeding in Care of Magical Creatures as well as enjoying it, and Barnaby loves it whenever Carewyn sings to the creatures they’re working with in order to soothe them.

Jae — Although their personalities are pretty diametrically opposed, even down to house placement, Carewyn gets along pretty well with Jae. She doesn’t entirely see the appeal of him dealing with shadier merchandise, but he still agreed to help her when she needed to go to Knockturn Alley despite the risks and he’s a pretty sharp, resourceful person. Carewyn mostly just thinks he should push himself more, rather than just be content with where he’s at. After learning how much Jae likes cooking, Carewyn has enjoyed spending time with him in the kitchens whenever she wants to try out a new recipe.

Penny — Carewyn was actually a bit startled when popular Penny first took an interest in her in their first year. In their fifth year, Carewyn grew a bit more protective of Penny with the Portrait Curse capturing her younger sister, Beatrice -- now that Beatrice and Penny have started to grow apart, however, Carewyn now finds herself stuck between them, feeling sympathy for Beatrice’s position but still valuing her friendship with Penny.

Liz — Carewyn and Liz’s friendship is a bit more casual than others, but they’ve really connected well thanks to their shared interest in magical creatures. You can usually see Carewyn hanging out with her, Charlie, and Barnaby in Care of Magical Creatures.

Badeea — Art buddies! Carewyn is very encouraging of Badeea’s artistic talent, and the two love talking about music and Charms together.  

Tonks  — Carewyn greatly admires Tonks’s wish to be an Auror and loves how funny her imitations can be, but more often than not ends up being the butt of one of Tonks’s pranks.

Tulip — Like Tonks, Tulip loves pranking Carewyn. A LOT. Carewyn doesn’t find most of her jokes that funny, but can’t stay that mad at her.

Fred and George — Carewyn has only just met the twins, but she can already tell they’re going to be a handful. But they’re Bill and Charlie’s brothers, so in Carewyn’s mind, they are already family, so she feels a bit of protectiveness toward them.

Cedric — When Carewyn met Cedric, her first reaction was immense pity, given how much attention he’d managed to accrue in his first year alone when he clearly didn’t feel like he deserved it. Cedric reminds Carewyn of herself in first and second year, when she was still so shy and insecure whenever people would talk about her, so the Slytherin Prefect feels a lot of compassion for Cedric. She sort of hopes everyone will lay off him a bit so he can just have a normal school life without so much pressure.

Percy — Carewyn hadn’t thought she’d ever encounter someone that she would consider a stick-in-the-mud...until she met Percy Weasley. His rat Scabbers is kind of cute, though -- when he doesn’t bite!

Skye — Carewyn appreciates all of the help Skye gave her when she first started playing in Quidditch friendlies, but at present, she’s not talking to Skye, thanks to her going off and starting unfounded rumors about the Ravenclaw Beater, Erika Rath, the way that people spread rumors about Carewyn when she first started at Hogwarts. NOT COOL, SKYE. Orion deserves better than to deal with that sort of drama!!

Murphy — Both he and Carewyn are planners, and that’s great...but Murphy only plays Wizard Chess, a game he’s great at and Carewyn is terrible at, and that’s not so great.

Professor McGonagall —  The Deputy Headmistress is by far the professor Carewyn respects above all others. Even if she finds her class very challenging, she gives every assignment her all because of how much she respects McGonagall and wants to impress her. McGonagall herself nurtures a soft spot for Carewyn, even despite her being in Slytherin, due to her strong moral streak and desire to protect others.

Professor Flitwick — Charms is Carewyn’s best and favorite class, and Flitwick is a large reason why. Carewyn also really admires Flitwick’s talent in wizard dueling and is always thrilled to learn new dueling spells from him. Flitwick had a soft spot for Carewyn’s brother Jacob back in the day, since Jacob was in his house, and he’s nurtured a similar soft spot for Carewyn because of her great talent in and enthusiasm for Charms.

Professor Kettleburn — Carewyn adores Care of Magical Creatures and, by extension, Professor Kettleburn. She just really doesn’t want to lose as many body parts or clothing pieces as he has. Kettleburn always enjoys when Carewyn sings to the creatures in his class -- he finds it incredibly creative and entertaining.

Hagrid —  Carewyn loves Fang SO MUCH. And Hagrid too. Just not his rock cakes. And Hagrid...well, Carewyn’s just so tiny, but with such a big heart!

FOES |

Rakepick — Pre-Portrait Vault, Carewyn didn’t trust Rakepick as far as she can throw her, largely because she couldn’t get a good fix on her. Even Snape, who Carewyn clashes with at times, seems to have a wonky code of honor (META: largely because she is a Slytherin and -- more notably -- is at school before she could see how terribly he treats Harry and Neville!), but Carewyn wasn’t even sure if she could ascribe that to Rakepick. Her initial judgment seems to have been justified, given how Rakepick acted in the Portrait Vault -- but Rakepick’s betrayal, which was somehow even worse than Carewyn could’ve imagined, has only served to make the young Slytherin feel less sure on her feet, as she’s started to connect the dots and realize that her comrades may have trusted Rakepick for the some of the same reasons that they’ve trusted Carewyn herself. Rakepick and Carewyn have encouraged the others, but have also never trusted them with their true feelings or motives, and they both led them into danger all because of their desire to get to the Cursed Vaults. Although they pursued the Vaults for different reasons, they were both relentless, resourceful, stubborn and proud in their pursuit -- and in enlisting others to help them in that pursuit, they were both responsible for every terrible thing that ensued from it.

Ismelda — Carewyn really doesn’t like her intense interest in pain and suffering -- like...at all. Even if she might put on a strong, unflappable face, Carewyn is way too big of a bleeding heart to enjoy death or pain. Ismelda also considering using a Love Potion on Barnaby soured Carewyn to her quite a bit, though Carewyn is glad Ismelda changed her mind and they were able to come to some sort of a truce.

Merula — Their rivalry was much more intense when they were younger and Merula was actively bullying Ben and Rowan -- nowadays Carewyn just uses her help when it’s useful and ignores her when she’s being her usual awful self. After seeking counsel from her mother and Rowan, Carewyn was even nice enough to give Merula her spot on the Frog Choir, even if she’d really wanted it herself. Although Rowan staying constant and unchanging throughout the years is something Carewyn admires in her, however, she absolutely loathes the quality when it’s expressed in Merula. At the end of year 5, she and Merula came to something of a truce, but with the start of their sixth year, Merula’s taken a couple giant steps back in her evolution, which greatly frustrates and disappoints Carewyn. Carewyn wouldn’t ever call Merula her friend, but...well, she’d still been happy to see Merula had actually been able to prove her a little wrong and become a slightly better person. It’s awful to see her regress after going through that slight improvement.

Professor Dumbledore — Although Dumbledore is an amazingly powerful wizard with a very amiable attitude, over the years Carewyn has gotten very, very frustrated with how much she’s told to stop trying to deal with the Vaults. On top of that, the Headmaster of Hogwarts frequently obfuscates things a bit too much for Carewyn’s liking. She can sense that he is trying to be helpful, but that in a way makes things all the more frustrating, as she finds his methods so phenomenally misguided. Carewyn tries to conceal just how low her opinion of the man has fallen, but in truth she’s become rather resentful of him.

Emily —  Oh gosh. Given how fond Carewyn is of Bill and how ridiculously condescending and prone to bullying Emily can be, Carewyn understandably despises her. She hates her more than she ever hated Merula.

PETS (IF ANY) | Mimi (orange tabby cat), Sir Robin the Brave (toad), Lune (bat), Balto (Cruppy)

ANIMAL PRESERVE (IF ANY) | Wicket the Niffler; Tumnus the Porlock; Arjuna the Abraxan; Belle the Fairy; Esmeralda the Welsh Green; Leila the Thestral, Peter Quill the Knarl; Apollo the Hippogriff; Barnaby Jr. the Bowtruckle

[animetrashlord-007]

LTAS;; Tea Stop, Coffee Shop

Word Count;; 2.5k

Genre;; Fluff!

Pairing;; Hinata x Kageyama

Side Pairing;; Oikawa x Iwaizumi, Matsukawa x Hanamaki

Summary;;

That chapter where Hinata receives relationship advice from Makki and Mattsun. That's pretty much the whole thing.

Published;; 4.20.17

Notes;; 

My Masterlist

Lemme Take A Selfie Masterlist

   Hanamaki shuddered as he opened the door to the quaint café and ushered Hinata and Matsukawa inside. The overwhelming aroma of coffee beans and mediocre pastries crashed into him like a freight train. Two baristas bellowed out a welcome as they prepared some pretentious beverage for an uptight woman in a cheap, black suit. She looked tacky with her knockoff shoes and fake pearls. Makki groaned at the obvious attempt to garner attention, perhaps even respect, from her peers. Not only was her fashion in poor taste, her makeup did naught to hide the exhaustion that devoured her eyes. She was plain in appearance and her personality was lackluster as well, emphasised by the impatient demands she snapped at the anxious employees. Her shoes made an unpleasant click as she tapped them on the polished floor. Casting a glare in the small group’s direction, she rolled her eyes before stalking closer to the counter to inspect her drink. Hanamaki pointed to the corner booth, a silent request for his friends to take residence within the cushioned fortress whilst he ordered. He scoffed as he overheard the woman’s conversation. Oblivious, or perhaps indifferent, to his presence next to her, she continued to berate the cashier.

   “-pathetic! I've told you twice now, how can you continue to screw it up?” she snarled, face flushing with anger, “Make it again!”

   “Of course, ma’am! I'm so sorry for the mistake,” the timid girl murmured as the drink was shoved back into her grasp.

   “If only sorry could fix this atrocity you call a frappuccino! It's no surprise you work here in this rundown, dingy cafe! If you can't even follow simple instructions and make a decent drink, how could you ever make it in the world? I hope someone takes pity on you and takes you in as their wife, though I'm sure you'd manage to screw that up too! You're a disgra-”

   “Are you kidding me? Listen here, you snob,” Makki interjected as he glared down at the woman. “Take your shitty drink and get out. I don't have all day to wait on your snippy ass.”

   “Excuse me?” she gasped, reeling back as she met his apathetic eyes.

   “Did I stutter? Perhaps your age has caught up to you and your hearing is failing you? I'll say it a little louder-” the room fell silent and the other patrons focused on the commotion. He raised his voice, venom lacing his tone, “-Leave. I don't want to see your pitiful face anymore.”

   “How dare yo-”

   “What's wrong? Can't handle it when you're on the receiving end? You're really starting to piss me off. Why don't you hobble back to your dead end job and stop taking your frustrations out on others.”

   An elderly couple shook their heads with disapproval, whispering between themselves as they stared at Makki. Two teenaged girls snickered and raised their cups in a mock salute while a businessman choked on his croissant. No one dared to speak up, however, as the woman trembled with anger. She opened her mouth but no words were formed. With heavy feet, she took another step back in an attempt to escape the much taller male’s intimidating aura. Some time during the interaction, the other barista found her way next to her coworker. Trying to comfort and protect her younger colleague, she wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to her chest. Makki maintained eye contact with the fuming woman, his expression altering into one of boredom and nonchalance. A minute passed before she buckled and snatched the drink, dashing for the exit. Once she left, chatter resumed amongst the other customers as if nothing had occurred.

   “I'd like three large green teas with a slice of lemon in each, please.”

   “O-oh, of course! Coming right up! That'll be 650 yen.” She smiled and offered a small bow as she accepted the money. He let his gaze wander to the corner, holding in a laugh when he saw Hinata’s shocked expression. Matsukawa faced the opposite direction but upon hearing whatever idiotic comment the underclassmen spewed, he turned to his boyfriend and gave a thumbs up alongside a small nod. Makki smirked before turning back to the counter.

   “Three teas with lemons!” The girl chimed, grinning from ear to ear, “We appreciate your business!”

   “Wow, that was fast.”

   “Thank you! For everything!”

   “Huh? I didn't do anything for you.” Uneasiness jolted through him as the girl’s face quivered before her grin returned in full force. She seemed nice, the type not yet tainted by the negativity of the world. Her optimism and naivety would soon be consumed by the harsh reality of humanity yet, in this moment, she shone brighter than the sun. He didn't understand people like her or Hinata. He sighed, unwilling to quicken her inevitable awakening, “It was nothing. I'm sorry she caused you trouble.”

   Without further hesitation, he took his leave to return to his companions. Handing out the drinks, he dropped into his chair with a thud. Matsukawa grunted a thank you, sighing in unison with Hanamaki as they took their first gulp. Before Hinata could speak, Mattsun raised a finger to his lips and narrowed his eyes, drawing his hand across his face in the motion one does when they zip up a jacket. Both of the Aoba Johsai alumni closed their eyes, their desire to relax and to quell their irritation from their current predicament taking precedent over engaging with Hinata. The serenity didn't last however; it never lasted when their newfound friend was around.

   “What was that about, Makki-senpai? You seemed really angry!” Hinata burst, unable to contain his confusion from the spectacle any longer.

   “Shut up and drink your tea. I need to finish this whole thing before I can even accept the fact that we're stuck giving you relationship advice while those two jerks are having a damn all-day date in Tokyo. I want to go on a date,” Matsukawa grumbled, earning a nod in agreement from Makki.

   Hinata was still dubious around the two other males. They had their moments of generosity and kindness, though fleeting and far between, but for the most part they were just sarcastic and blunt. He thought of them as friends and hoped they felt the same, but he still wasn't confident in his ability to interact with them. Oikawa often had petty ulterior motives but otherwise spoke and acted with sincerity. Iwaizumi was friendly and welcoming, going out of his way to make Hinata feel comfortable with the often volatile personalities of his longtime friends. Hanamaki and Matsukawa on the other hand did their best to avoid speaking with their kouhai whenever possible. They let Oikawa take Hinata under his proverbial wing, watching their interactions from afar without so much as a second thought. Now they had the small ball of sunshine thrust upon them, and his enthusiasm was already draining them. On most occasions they liked to take things slow and savour the moment, yet they had spent all morning chasing after Hinata as he pranced around the city. They had even lost the boy at one point, though they chose to shop for new matching scarves instead of exerting the energy to search for him. After an hour passed, they began to bicker over who would call and be forced to reveal their number when he skipped up to them with a fire in his eyes. Not caring about what had worked him up, they entered the nearest establishment that sold any type of drink. After a rough morning of babysitting, they basked in the warmth of their tea. Their fortune turned sour, however, once they both finished their drinks and Hinata jumped straight into conversation.

   “Mattsun-senpai, please teach me how to be romantic!”

   “Seriously? I don't think anyone could teach you anything, you're an idiot,” Makki deadpanned.

   “I agree, but the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can hand him back over to Oikawa. Then we can have some one on one time, if you get my drift.” Mattsun winked, trailing a finger along Makki’s hand.

   “Really get some use out of that nice hotel. They provided such a soft bed and roomy shower, after all.” Makki smirked, a playful twinkle in his eyes.

   “So I should take Kageyama to a hotel?” Hinata questioned, eyes wide as looked between the two.

   “How forward of you, Hinata. I don't think he would appreciate you making the moves on him so quickly though.” Mattsun relaxed back into his chair, biting into his lemon slice. After a pause, he returned his attention to his lover with a sigh, “I'm just going to be distracted if you're here. How about I give him a crash course then we can meet at that clothing store across the street, Takahiro? I know you like their clothes, you should buy some while we're here.”

   Hanamaki frowned as he stood, brushing past Hinata to stand next to his boyfriend. He placed a kiss on his head and entwined their fingers, inhaling the scent of his minty shampoo. Neither of their features faltered from their usual neutral expressions, something Hinata had come to admire about the two. Matsukawa still didn't react as the light-haired male pulled him into an embrace from behind, lifting his left hand up to place a kiss on the smooth skin before nibbling at his earlobe. Hinata wasn't able to keep his own face indifferent and a blush crawled across his cheeks as Mattsun grabbed his retreating boyfriend’s collar, yanking him back down into a deep kiss. It felt like an eternity before the two broke apart and the young crow’s blush spread to his ears and nose as he heard their soft pants. They both smirked at the younger male as he averted his gaze.

   “Sure, I'll see you later, Issei.”

   “So how far have you and, uh, the other one gone?” Mattsun asked, unaffected by the sudden intimacy he had just experienced.

   “You two are cute together!”

   “Tell me something I don't know. Answer the question or I'm leaving.”

   “Don't leave, I need your advice senpai! I'm sorry!” His voice dropped low and his eyes fell to the floor once more, “One time I kinda kissed Kageyama.”

   “How does one kinda kiss?”

   “It was just a quick kiss… like a peck. But we're not dating or anything.”

   “Thanks, Captain Obvious, I would never have realised that,” Mattsun groaned, staring out the window. He tapped his fingers on the glistening table, lost in his own thoughts. “I thought Oikawa was just being Oikawa but turns out you two really do suck. Listen, I can give you some pointers on romantic shit to do but you didn't hear it from me and I definitely don't care how well it works for you.

   “First and foremost, you have to set the mood. You can't just confess out of the blue, just like you can't kiss him out of nowhere. It doesn't have to expensive or flashy, but you should take him on a date. Theatres, restaurants, picnics, arcades, events - it doesn't matter where you go, as long as you're together and you make the effort to make him happy.

   “You need to be aware of his feelings. If he isn't enjoying himself, you need to figure out why and rectify it. If he's bored, you need to leave or strike up a better conversation. If he's making a move on you, you have to be aware of it so you can reciprocate it. You're pretty stupid but apparently so is he, so I imagine miscommunication and ignorance is common between you two.

   “So once the mood is set, and he's comfortable and enjoying himself, you need to make sure the timing is right before you make any moves. Since he still talks to you and didn't kick your arse, you did well enough with the timing of the first kiss. The problem now is that if it's been too long, he might think you didn't like it or, more specifically, don't like him. If it's too soon, he may not have figured out his own feelings fully yet. Timing is key.

   “You need to figure out his feelings before making any more moves or you'll lose him. You might have confused him or maybe he's been trying to initiate a relationship but you're too moronic to pick up the signals he's putting down.

   "Don't forget the little things either; send him texts in the morning when you wake up and before you sleep so he knows he's the first thing on your mind and your last thoughts before you dream. Bring him coffee or pastries or whatever he prefers and strike up conversations about things he's mentioned before so he knows you're truly listening to him. Make subtle contact, like brushing your hand against his, and maintain eye contact. It's all in the little things, don't forget th-”

   “I've never heard you talk this much, Matsukawa-senpai!”

   A heavy pause descended upon the two as Mattsun’s eyes narrowed. Much to Hinata’s chagrin, Matsukawa stood with a sigh. He flicked the smaller male’s nose, clicking his tongue and shaking his head in irritation. Hinata threw his hands up and choked out an apology, slamming his head against the table in his attempt to bow. His words fell on apathetic ears, however.

   “I'm leaving now. Call, uh, the guy and talk to him. Not about your confession, but about going on a date. Then meet us at that store, X B X.” Mattsun pointed across the street then turned on his heels, waving at the nervous boy without a second glance.

   Pulling out his phone, Hinata gulped as he pulled up Kageyama’s contact information. He exhaled with a determined shake of his head, willing his anxiety away. He had known the setter for a year now, and he felt confident that his feelings were mutual. Kageyama had said the kiss was sweet and that he didn't mind it, so that had to be a positive sign. Not to mention how he did all the things Mattsun had suggested as romantic, including buying him meat buns every other night on their way home from practice and texting him every day. Kageyama was showing his affection through the little things, and Hinata needed to meet him halfway. He pushed the call button and waited with anticipation, the ringing drawing out for what felt like hours.

   “Shouyou, is everything okay? Did Oikawa do something to you?” Hinata smiled; Kageyama always worried about him.

   “No, no. He helped me realise something important!” He exclaimed, excitement erasing his previous unease, “Tobio, date me!”

   “D-date you? Idiot! You can't just tell people to date you!”

   “I really like you, Tobio-kun! Let's go on a date together!”

   Hinata grinned as he heard his setter choke on the other end. Kageyama stammered and spluttered for another minute or so before continuing, “Whatever. Just make sure you put more effort into the date than you did in that confession!”

[warofshadowstheorder]

Chapter 05

Bledsoe never enjoyed flying.  Growing up on a Cattle Ranch in Rory, Wyoming she was much more comfortable in a saddle than an aisle seat.  She’d never been on an airplane until she left for college.  It was a new experience, and as soon as she got back on the ground she knew that she wanted to avoid air travel whenever possible.

This particular trip was made worse by the fact that she was with Taylor the entire time.  The two of them were civil to each other on the commercial flight to Miami, primarily because Bledsoe spent most of the flight on the earbuds she brought with her.  They were at each other’s throats for most of the private flight to Guantanamo.

For every time Taylor reiterated his theory of Bledsoe being an informant to the assassin, Bledsoe gave a very well-placed and calculated verbal jab at Taylor’s ego or bandaged nose.  After Taylor used a crude term to describe her, Bledsoe let loose with a barrage of several words she had heard her cattle-rancher dad use out in the pasture.

“Real nice language for an Ivy League graduate,” Taylor replied, “did you ever go to class or did you just give your professors inside information in exchange for passing grades?”

“First off,” Bledsoe said, “I was a cattleman’s daughter long before I ever set foot on Yale.  And secondly, I learned early that one should communicate at the level of one’s audience, which forces conversation with you to the level of non-fertilizer grade manure.  Or, in words you can understand…bullshit.”

Taylor was visibly shaken by this and getting ready to offer a fierce retort when the pilot’s voice came over the intercom.

“You’ll want to fasten your seatbelts back there, we’re making our final descent.”

Taylor muttered something under his breath and buckled his seatbelt while Bledsoe sat down and did the same.  The descent went by without event.  As the plane coasted on the runway, Bledsoe looked out her window and saw a military jeep waiting on the tarmac.

Two Marines stepped out of the jeep when the plane stopped moving and stood by the entrance ramp.  Taylor and Bledsoe each put on their sunglasses, picked up their respective carryon bags, and moved to the door.

The contrast in temperatures was evident when they were met by a blast of tropical climate, an oppressive combination of heat and humidity unknown to D.C. residents, the moment they crossed the threshold between the plane and the outside.  The sun was beginning to set and twilight was upon them, but the air outside still felt like walking on the bottom of a heated swimming pool.  Inwardly, Bledsoe wondered why anyone wanted to retire to the tropics.

“Welcome to Guantanamo sir, ma’am” the first Marine said as Taylor and then Bledsoe came down, “Gunnery Sergeant Andrews and Lance Corporal Jacobi.  My dad said that you’d be coming.”

Gunnery Sergeant Michael Andrews had grown up in the Secret Service lifestyle and had nothing but respect and admiration for his father.  His father had served in the military prior to joining the Service and encouraged his son to do the same when he initially expressed interest in following in his footsteps.

He took his father’s advice and enlisted in the Marines immediately after graduating from High School.  He’d initially planned on sweating out a tour and getting some college courses completed before finishing up his Degree and joining the Secret Service.  That plan fell through when he discovered that he loved the Corps too much to leave it behind.

Consequently, several years, promotions, and deployments later he found himself at his current assignment.  His only concerns in life were accomplishing his present objective before moving on to the next ones.

“Nice to meet you,” Taylor said standing so that Bledsoe was completely blocked from view and shaking Andrews’ hand, “I imagine that you know why I’m here.”

“Affirmative Agent Taylor,” Andrews answered, “and if you would take a vest from Lance Corporal Jacobi here,” he gestured to his fellow Marine who was holding two bulletproof vests, “we’ll get moving.”

Taylor walked up to Jacobi, took a vest from him and strapped it on before climbing into the front seat of the jeep.

“You must be Agent Bledsoe,” Andrews said shaking her hand.  “My dad wanted to let you know that there will be a plane here tomorrow to take you back to the homeland.”

“Thank you Gunnery Sergeant,” Bledsoe answered earning a smile from the Gunnery Sergeant before taking the vest from Jacobi and sitting next to him in the back of the jeep.  Bledsoe was extremely upset about not being able to stay for the entire interrogation.  But, she remembered what Assistant Director Andrews had said before she and Taylor left and knew that she was fortunate to be getting to do as much as she was.  Gunnery Sergeant Andrews started up the jeep and the four of them drove off.

“What can you tell us about him?” Taylor asked after a few moments.

“Nothing,” Andrews answered, “we took his biometrics and a DNA sample when we processed him.  But he doesn’t show up anywhere on the grid.  We’ve even run his info through INTERPOL, and we still come up empty.  It’s like he doesn’t exist.”

“Have you questioned him,” Taylor asked, “please tell me that you’ve got something we can build on.”

“Some of the MPs have questioned him,” Andrews replied, “HUMINT will work on him later.  All he’s said so far is…” he paused trying to remember, “Lance Corporal Jacobi, what did he say?”

Corporal Jacobi took out a piece of paper and read the writing on it.  “He said, ‘war is declared and battle come down.’  Then later when we asked what he meant by that he responded ‘The ice age is coming with a meltdown expected, but I have no fear.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Taylor asked, “Is this guy part of some terrorist organization?  Maybe eco-terrorism?”

Bledsoe, who had been mouthing what was said after “…the ice age is coming,” laughed from the backseat.  Taylor and Jacobi both turned to look at her.

“What the hell is so funny?!” blurted Taylor rudely, “is that some kind of code that you and all your assassin cohorts use?!”

Andrews and Jacobi shot confused sideways glances at the sound of Taylor’s voice.

“When you question him later,” Bledsoe answered slightly annoyed but with a hint of her earlier laugh, “ask him if he lives by the river?.”  There was a pause while all three of the men in the jeep got confused looks on their faces.  “Don’t you guys ever listen to The Clash?!”  She asked the last part in a voice that suggested a simultaneous disbelief and disgust, “That’s paraphrased from London Calling.”

“Huh,” Jacobi said, “thank you ma’am.  We’ve been trying to figure that out for hours.”

The rest of the drive passed by in silence, the embarrassment of Bledsoe’s comment and his own outburst festered within Taylor’s mind the entire way.  Taylor and Bledsoe got their visitor’s passes as they entered through the Northeast gate.  They drove near the facility and then got out of the jeep, leaving their bags inside.

“Sir, ma’am, I recommend you be quick,” Andrews said as he led them to an interrogation room after they checked their weapons, “because his lawyer is on his way down and you know once he gets here we’ll be very limited in what information we can get.”

Taylor and Bledsoe were silent as they made their way down the hallway.  Both of them were thinking of what they were going to do next, and relishing the feel of the air-conditioned building.  All the anger and frustration that Taylor was feeling since the assassination was threatening to come out, but he was keeping things in check by reminding himself that he had a job to do and needed to be focused.

Bledsoe replayed every aspect of the night Saunders was shot inside her head, completely aware that her assigned mission at the detention facility was to identify the suspect.  Having not seen either man’s entire face that night, and not having had any time to watch the news or read the papers since the assassination, all she had to go on was a pair of Prussian blue eyes, and she knew that it would be almost impossible to postively identify him based on that feature alone.

The only other traits she had to go on were views of both of them from behind dressed in black.  She had grappled up close and personal with the one they had in custody, but didn’t think that the guards would be keen with her fighting him again as a means to identify him based on his technique.

“Well,” Andrews said breaking them out of their respective trances, “there he is.”

The two agents looked through the one-way glass at the man who didn’t exist.  He wore an orange jumpsuit and was shackled by handcuffs and leg irons.  He sat calmly with his hands folded.  The people observing him didn’t know what to make of his appearance.  He didn’t have a look that suggested he was uncomfortable, or confident, or even crazy.  He just sat complacently and occasionally twiddled his thumbs or drummed his fingers.

“You can do whatever you want with him,” Andrews said, “we’ve turned off the camera and Lance Corporal Jacobi and I will be going out to the front to wait for the lawyer.”

“Is there anything else we should know about before we go in there?” Taylor asked.

“Only that we turned off the air-conditioner,” Andrews answered, “but I don’t think it’s having any effect on him.”

“I know,” Jacobi interjected in disbelief, “it’s crazy.  One time the A/C went out in our office building and we thought we’d die.  He’s been in there for more than two hours and hasn’t even shown any sign of discomfort.  Seriously, I’ve seen locals here break down under conditions like what this guy’s been through.”

“In any case,” Andrews continued, “until the lawyer gets here, he’s all yours.”

The Marines then walked back down the corridor.  Taylor and Bledsoe both looked at Odin for a few more moments before Taylor faced Bledsoe.

“You stay here.  I don’t need you interfering with my interrogation and telling your friend how to escape.”

Taylor entered the interrogation room and closed the door behind him before Bledsoe could reply.  She settled for looking through the glass at the events transpiring inside the room.

Taylor walked in and stood on the other side of the table from where the prisoner sat.  It was obvious that the man’s captors hadn’t made anything easy on him.  He was unshaven and filthy, and it didn’t take a Bloodhound to notice that he hadn’t bathed in quite some time.  The backs of his eyes were red with bags under them, and yet the expression on his face was one of confidence.  It was clear that the prisoner was in control, if only in his own mind.

Taylor paused for a moment, waiting for the prisoner to make the first move.  The bare walls in the room and the empty atmosphere were a stark contrast to the unexpressed tension in the air between Taylor and the man sitting down in front of him.

“Hey,” the prisoner said snapping his fingers and speaking in a confident voice devoid of any accent, “I recognize you from the pavilion.  Although, I have to admit it’s a little difficult with that thing over your nose.”

“Who the hell are you?” Taylor said as calmly as he could manage, “tell me that much and this little interview will go a lot better for you.”

“Okay,” the prisoner said in a hoarse whisper, “you caught me, so I guess that it’s time to fess up to everything.”

Taylor sat down and leaned forward, interested to know just who the man across from him was.

“My name is Clark Kent, and when I’m not undermining the reputation of law enforcement agencies, I’m a mild-mannered reporter for the Daily Planet.”  Raising his voice to normal levels, the prisoner quipped.  “Does that work for you?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”  Taylor answered trying to suppress the anger welling up inside him.  “If you don’t want to tell us who you are then that will become your problem soon enough.  However,” he paused briefly to ensure that he had Odin’s attention, “I would like to know how you were able to pull that off.”

“Could you be a bit more specific?” Odin asked.

“How were you…” Taylor said, pausing to regain his composure, “…able to infiltrate security, bring in what I can only imagine was a sniper rifle, literally dodge bullets, one of my colleagues tells me you and another man literally disappeared in front of her, and then there’s the matter of you fighting off around two dozen well-trained men.”

“Well,” the prisoner answered acting like he was thinking hard, “I suppose it all started back when I was fifteen and I began wondering why that cartoon bird keeps eating Cocoa Puffs when they clearly make him mentally unstable…”

“Shut up,” Taylor said with a calm but annoyed tone, “if you aren’t going to give me a straight answer then just say so.”

“I can deal with that.  But seriously, do you think that you’re going to get any real information from me?”

“It would be in your best interest,” Taylor answered.  “It would help your case and prevent your jailers from using any unpleasant means to obtain information that you’re withholding.”

The shackled prisoner started laughing after Taylor’s last statement.  Taylor stared at him with a mixture of frustration and curiosity.

“You know what’s funny?” drawled the man in the orange jumpsuit.  “You actually think that I’m stuck here, that you’ve got me locked up.”

“I actually like to break it to you,” Taylor said, “but look around.  You can’t get any more stuck than you are.”

“I actually like to break it to you,” came the confident reply, “I’m only here as long as I want to be.  I can leave anytime I want.  And there is nothing you, or anyone else, can do to prevent that.”

Bledsoe had been watching and listening to all the proceedings.  She found herself being amused by the man who was trying Taylor’s patience more than anyone she’d ever seen.  She was also paying close attention to everything she could observe about him now that he wasn’t in his tactical clothes.  As she continued to take in everything she could, she tried to remember as much as possible from the incident two nights ago.

Staring intently at Odin, but mindful of her surroundings, she could hear a few people approaching where she was standing, but kept her gaze fixed on the shackled man.

“Agent Bledsoe,” Andrews called out as he approached.  Bledsoe turned to see him and Jacobi escorting a short man with a receding hairline and a constant twitch on the left side of his face.

“How’s it going in there with your partner?” Andrews asked.

“I don’t think he’s making any real progress,” she replied honestly.  “And who are you?” she politely asked the short man.

“I’m the counsel for the accused,” he answered in a nasally voice, “and from the looks of things you’ve had enough private time with my client.”  Moving to the door, he entered the room and pulled up a chair next to his client.  Bledsoe watched him share some words with Taylor, who then left the room, leaving the accused to confer with his counsel.

As he closed the interrogation room door, Taylor vented his frustration.  “Okay Bledsoe, can you give us anything on that degenerate?”

“I can’t say whether he was the one who pulled the trigger,” she said, “but I can tell you for sure that he was the one I fought with and not the one who jumped me.”

“And how the hell can you tell that?” Taylor asked still in his frustrated tone.

“I got the feeling that the guy who jumped me was a lot quieter than he is.  And besides,” she took another good look at Odin, “his eyes aren’t the same.”

“You never mentioned that you’d seen his eyes,” Taylor said still frustrated.

“I didn’t think it was relevant at the time,” Bledsoe answered, “but the man who jumped me had Prussian blue eyes.  In any case, this isn’t him.”

“Who’s going to be prosecuting him?” Taylor asked Andrews.

“We’re still trying to figure out whose jurisdiction he falls under,” Andrews answered, “I already told you that he doesn’t show up at all on the grid.  We can’t even place where he’s from.  Our hands are tied until we can figure out some kind of jurisdiction.  We can only get away with keeping him here for so long.”

“Well,” Taylor said with his back to Bledsoe, standing between her and Andrews, “we should try to pressure him into giving us his accomplice.  At the very least we can take the death penalty off the table.”

Realizing that her part was done, Bledsoe started off down the hallway.

“Excuse me ma’am,” Corporal Jacobi called out as she walked past him while Taylor and Andrews continued their conversation, “but if you would like to rest before you head back, we can provide you with a temporary hooch.”

“That would be very nice,” Bledsoe answered.  She had been so caught up in everything that was going on and her arguments with Taylor throughout the trip down that she hadn’t noticed how exhausted she was.  She could never sleep on a plane.

“This way then ma’am,” Jacobi replied before leading Bledsoe down the corridor and outside.

The sun had set, the moon and stars now decorating the evening sky.  Jacobi took Bledsoe to the jeep and drove her to an area near the barracks.  He led her to a room near the front where a cot had been set up with a pillow and a blanket.

“I’m sorry that we can’t offer you more, ma’am,” Jacobi said, “I’m afraid this is the best we can do on short notice.”

“This is fine,” Bledsoe said as she sat down on the cot and placed her bag on the floor, “thank you.”  Jacobi nodded and excused himself, leaving Bledsoe to her new accommodations.

Bledsoe took off her shoulder holster and placed it on the floor next to her bag.  She stretched out on the cot and stared at the ceiling.  She couldn’t help thinking of the man that she could only refer to as Clark Kent and the fact that his accomplice was still out there somewhere.  It tore her apart inside to remember that she was going to have to sit it out while others searched for the accomplice and eventually prosecuted Clark Kent.  Within minutes, her exhaustion took over and she drifted into a deep sleep.

She was dreaming almost immediately after falling asleep.  She was on another assignment and patrolling her designated area. As she pacing around, she turned and saw the same eyes of the man who had jumped her from the shadows in the pavilion.  She stood facing him, not knowing what to do.

Her assailant just stood and faced her.  She stared into his eyes, the image that had been indelibly burned into her psyche since the brief moment when she had seen them.  After what seemed like an eternity, Bledsoe spoke.

“Who are you?” she asked, the dream mists blocking all sounds from her earpiece, masking all else from her surroundings.

The figure just stood where he was, immobile.  Bledsoe stared straight ahead at him, transfixed, searching to take in anything new.  Knowing his height from seeing the back of him, she endeavored to fill in the rest.

She remembered the G.I. Joe comic books her older brother Hunter collected and used the character named Snake-Eyes to construct a form for the bane of her existence.  She waited in anticipation, and then held her breath when he reached his hand forward in a motion that suggested he was about to remove whatever kind of mask he was wearing and reveal his face.

At that moment, the blaring sound of a siren piercing the night sky jarred her awake.

[the-lady-bryan]

because i’m waiting on the water for my pasta to boil, here’s an idea i had for a fic but haven’t worked on it hardly any not for lack of muse. the muse is there. the worldbuilding has been done to death. i just haven’t the time to add it to the mountain of WIPs I’ve already got going.

so here’s the idea.

It’s a Harry Potter/Hermione Granger Soulmate AU.

The least you need to know: involves Lily Potter being a bamf, pagan god worship, god-like Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, reincarnation, future mind/soul into past self style time travel.

also typos. oh god the typos, but i can’t really be bothered to fix them at this time.

This is gonna be broken up into parts so i’m gonna do a different part per reblog till i’m done.

PART 1:  THE PATRONAGE OF A TITAN

When Lily was a young witch - around 13 or so - her best friend Severus introduced her to some old pureblood traditions (which he and his mother did but hid from his father). She was shown how to worship the old pagan gods. To a muggleborn this was at first not well received, but as Lily had learned in the previous three years not everything about her new world was to be taken at face value. So she endeavoured to learn and not be prejudiced. She had lerned that each witch or wizard who practced the old ways had a patron god or goddess to which they prayed. This was, to her, not entirely unlike the idea of patron saints to whom muggles appealed for strength, guidance, or support. And so this is how she approached this new aspect of her magical identity. Even after her parting of the ways with Severus, she continued to learn and had even begun the practice of honoring the old gods - though she had no patron as yet.

On her seventeenth birthday she had ventured into the forbidden forest, feeling an inexplicable pull on her magic. She found herself in a clearing where there was a pond and a small smattering of trees. Despite it being the dead of winter, the clearing was warm and inviting. There was a fire lit, and an old woman sitting before it. She was naked from the waist up, and her skin sagged and her long hair was thin and silver with age.

"Miss Evans, I've been waiting for you."

"Wh- How do you know my name? Who are you?"

"I was once called the Meter Theon. But in Sparta they called me Meter Megale. My brother-husband called me Rhea."

"You're a titan."

"Yes child."

"I thought you'd be bigger."

Rhea laughs at this and invites Lily to join her by the fire. Lily learns from her that Rhea has come forward as her patron, and tells hr that the old ways are dying. That now across the world only the oldest and strongest still remain. "Zeus and his lot were some of the first to go. But stubborn old Hades refuses to give in. Refuses to give up his post and move on like the others." "why?" "What do you know of the tale of Hades and Persephone, child?" And so Lily tells her the myths she learned as a child pre-hogwarts, and of her research. Of the rites she had read about and so on and so forth. "My siblings and I may have been chained in Tartarus, but we could still see. We could still hear. Mother Gaia still whispered to us in our hearts and Father Ouranous still sang strong in our minds. It always brought me great sorrow to see how my son was treated by his siblings. Given no choice but to rule in a place devoid of warmth and love. Forbidden from walking the land with his siblings and taking part in the wonders that was the growing race of men and their curiosity. Over time many believed him cold and incapable of sharing in what they had. The reality was that he felt everything so much more deeply than they. For it was to him all souls would eventually come. Even those of his brothers and his sisters. But there was one who saw in him the goodness. The kindness and the gentleness that had been hidden by the dark." "Persephone." "Yes. As you mortals are so fond of saying, history is written by the victors. And never has it been more true than in the case of my most beloved son and his wife. Persephone was ordered to wed Hermes, whom she loathed with all of her heart. The night before they were to wed, she fled and went to the only place she knew Zeus's omnopotent sight could never penetrate. She went to the underworld begging sanctuary of Hades, who readily gave it to her. In time they grew close, and eventually he allowed himself to open up to her affection. But rumours of Demeter's search for her daughter told them it would be only a matter of time before those on Olympus realized to where she had fled and Persephone, being posessed of imortality and not a mortal soul, could be removed from his realm and there was little he could do about it. Unless she were willing to bind herself to him in marriage - but because it meant she could no longer return to the world above, to the sunshine and the light, he would not force it upon her. She chose to wed Hades, for her love for him was so great that even the thought of being parted from him brought her great pain. They were wed, and he took her to bed as any husband would his wife. And after, she ate of the pommegranate that would seal her fate. Twelve seeds, she needed to consume.... but the gates of the Underworld buckled and gave way under the might of Zeus and his Olympians. Hermes stole Persephone away after she had eaten only six. The bond to her husband only partially fulfilled. Hades was punished by watching Persephone forced to marry Hermes. But rather than marry the brute she attacked him and took up his dagger, plunging it into her own heart.... For the weapons forged in the fires of Hephaestus were so powerful they could kill even a Titan. Denied the pleasure of watching Hades suffer as his wife was married to the suitor Zeus had chosen, Zeus forbade her soul from ever entering the realm of Hades and bound her soul to mortal bones to be reborn again and again. My beloved son still stands watch, though he grows weaker by the year, in the hopes that now his brothers are long since gone, her soul may be able to pass through his gates and she is returned to him."

Lily is given the choice near dawn to accept Rhea, one of the last of the old gods, as her patron goddess or to refuse and seek out another. Lily accepts Rhea, which causes the old woman to smile and gives her an amulet with strange runes upon it.

Lily wakes in her own bed in Gryffindor tower, finding a delicate locket around her neck. Upon closer inspection, the inside has an inscription - the same strange runes from the amulet Rhea had given to her in what she assumed was a dream... Only to realize when she pulls her covers aside that her feet are smudged in dirt as if she'd been walking outside.

Lily learns as much as she can of Rhea in the following years. When she marries James Potter, she insists that they buy a specific type of wine without telling him why. He believes it is her favorite because she tends to keep a bottle in the house "for special occasions". She plants a garden where every plant links back to her patron Titaness in some way or manner. The night of Halloween, after James has gone to sleep rather satisfied after their own "after party" once they'd come home from Sirius's wild Halloween party, Lily went out into her garden in the wee hours and made her offering to Rhea who, once again, appeared to her. This time Rhea was much more ancient in her appearance, much more haggard. But she was still very pleased to see Lily had done as she had promised and continued to worship her. "You are the last of my acolytes, I am afraid. And when you one day pass, so too shall I." Lily professes that won't be the case. That one day she and James will start a family, and she will make sure that her children honor Rhea just as Lily has done - even if they have to do it behind her husband's back (to many Light families, the "old ways" are seen as dark and are thus shunned and forbidden. Otherwise she would have happily included James in her worship of Rhea.) This amuses the Titaness, but she says that no, it is her time. The age of the gods has finally come to an end. But with the passage of the gods, something new must fill the void. Something new must give mankind the comfort and protection once offered by the old gods. "I have a gift for you, my dear child. As my last priestess, I wish to give you something your husband... unfortunately cannot." "What?" "Try as you might, your husband's seed will never swell your belly. But as my last act in this existence, I grant you a boon. Your loyalty and your love have kept me alive longer than my brothers and sisters. Your love has given me more time with my beloved son Hades, and as a mother who has seen all her other children perish before her, this is a gift that can only be matched by one of equal value." Rhea touches Lily's abdomen and Lily feels a warmth flood her starting from there. Rhea visibly weakens as she is doing this, and the brightness in her eyes fades from brilliant emerald to a dull moss. "What have you done to me?" "My body fails me, but my power will remain so long as you live. I have given you the only thing of value to me left. Treat him kindly, my priestess. He has known so much sorrow and so much pain and yet he remains so pure and full of love." Lily, in disbelief, puts a hand to her adbomen. "How... what...." "Word of advice from one mother to another. If your husband tries to eat him, just paint a face on a rock  and shove it down his throat. My only regret was letting Cronus eat Hades instead of Zeus. If i knew then that boy would be such a hatefull jackass like his father, I'd have thrown him into the abyss myself and been done with him. Hera, too. And Poseidon was on pretty thin fucking ice there by the end."

Lily wakes the next morning in her bed with James, and once more her feet are smudged with dirt. This isn't the first time, so she tells James that she woke in the night for some water and wanted to take a stroll in the garden to look at some of her night blooms. The moment she is alone, she casts a charm and finds that she is, indeed, pregnant. After James has gone to work for the day, Lily prepares a special offering and leaves it in the garden tucked in a little altar disguised as a muggle garden decoration. She thanks Rhea for her gift and promises to show him all of the love and affection she possibly can - for both his mothers.

Lily does not see Rhea again, but she can feel her patron's presence from time to time and finds it comforting.

When Harry Potter is born, Lily silently praises Rhea, thanking her again for her gift and for her patronage and protection, and promises to do the best she can to raise the reborn Hades in a way she would hopefully approve.

They go into hiding, and Lily invokes Rhea's power and protection - not for herself, but for the son the Titaness had given her.

The entire day of October 31, 1981 Lily Potter feels powerful. She feels the energies surrounding her and her family intensify and a feeling of dread settles into her gut. She is reminded of the last time she and Rhea spoke face to face. The titaness had said that her body was failing her, and that so long as Lily lived, so too would the power of Rhea. During the day when she set Harry down for a nap, she prayed fervently over the boy, chanting ancient prayers of protection she had learned over the years. James comes upon her, but does not interrupt and instead waits outside Harry's nursery and listens to his wife's chanting. He slips away when she finishes and hurries downstairs. When they are both in the kitchen later, standing side by side at the counter as Lily prepares Harry's after nap snack and James is fixing himself some tea he quietly says, "I know Harry isn't mine." "What? Where the hell is this coming from? I did not cheat on you if that's what you think." "You got pregnant pretty quickly after Sirus's costume party-" "I did not cheat on you." "then who's the father?" "YOU are you dolt! I... Harry was a blessing! A gift to us for my unfaltering devotion o a dying goddess!" "you're mad." "Call me what you want, James. But I tell you if you were to pull an inheritence test on him right now you'll see he's your son. The night Harry was conceived we had just made love and she came to me and blessed me with our son. Go upstairs and look at him, James. He looks just like you, but with his mother's eyes. That's no glamour. That's no illusion or spell or-" "I know it's dark. I know it's illegal. I saw you chanting over him like some madwoman." "It was a protection chant James! In case you've forgotten we've got a madman after us who wants to kill our son because some drunken blithering idiot said so!"

The the argue a bit more and Lily storms out of the kitchen. After Harry wakes up, James realizes he's been an idiot after watching Lily playing with Harry and goes to apologize. Lily's annoyed with him, but forgives him with a "Besides, you know the wards on this place would have kicked him right out if he wasn't really a Potter you dunderhead."

That night Voldemort attacks, just as in canon. Lily is wearing her special locket that was given to her from Rhea when she accepted the Titaness as her patron. When Lily died, the remnants of Rhea's power was called forth and protected Harry in response to the muggleborn priestess's willing self sacrifice. But it was not enough to stop the horcrux that was drawn to the reincarnation of the god of the dead.

[riveir]

info dump                    canon au verse.

writing in this verse is set in an alternate universe scenario, in which river’s death occurs later in life than his senior year of high school. i’m very hesitant to say that it wouldn’t occur at all, for reasons explored below; because i would prefer writing in this verse to be heavily plot-based anyways, all of this can be altered & explored on a very individualized basis. i want to keep this plot-based because a big factor in river’s suicide is that he feels himself buckling under pressure without enough positive things or emotions in his life to, in his own words, ‘balance [him] out.’ writing river past senior year of high school assumes he has at least temporarily overcome these obstacles or found some reason to want to keep pushing through them. general reasons are outlined in each scenario below, but i think a lot of it would depend on individual specific relationships between river and the opposite muse. i think river’s mental health struggles extend beyond things like his parents and santa barbara and st. sebastian, though those things are certainly all factors in their own ways, and i hesitate to say that the things/changes applicable in each scenario below would be agents of such major change. a big part of this is acknowledging the lack of change that resulted after river’s first suicide attempt, which largely centers on his parents; no one else knew about his mental health struggles nor that he had received treatment until river breaks down and reveals it to the entire school because the family wanted to keep it between them, and his parents do not change their attitudes or treatment of river in the aftermath. in short, i just don’t take altering river’s death and its circumstances lightly, and this is all still contingent on individual plotting. however, because i’m not opposed to writing things in such a verse at all, i though doing an info dump for it would be helpful (: 

river living past senior year fall means that he would still be running for student council president. this can also be plotted individually, but as far as dealing with the rest of the canon timeline of the politician, it can be assumed that river continues running until he has an admissions interview with stanford that seems to virtually guarantee admission ( though family donations likely play a large factor in that as well ), at which point the student body presidency is deemed unnecessary and he drops out to try and allow payton an easier path to victory, though it can also be assumed that astrid takes his place on the ticket. exploring a scenario in which river does actually win the election, though, is definitely a possibility on an individual plot basis.

there are two default scenarios in this verse. the first is that river gets into stanford, attends, and continues along the path intended for him by his parents and continues giving into them, hoping that at some point he’ll feel some significant reassurance from their pride and happiness and that it will make a real difference in his life. the second is that he chooses to go against their wishes, elects to attend columbia university in new york city, and pursues a dual major in education and psychology and intends to spend some time as an english education teacher in the peace corps before he begins formally teaching, deciding that the inevitability of shouldering their disappointment would be outweighed by the chance of pursuing a future he feels as though he actually wants. 

“ i had to do it if i had a shot of getting into stanford. i mean, i had to do something to get my parents off my back. ”

despite applying to and getting into other schools, including other ivies like columbia and yale, river accepts his offer from stanford university, much to his parents’ pleasure. though he expects to feel some relief, given how much of the pressure put on him was contingent on admission to stanford, its motivation only shifts. his parents begin advising him on what extracurriculars to join even well before he arrives on campus, and put even more pressure on him as far as his grades, and constantly try and push him to forge useful business connections and almost even just choose summer internships for him. there continues to be extremely high standards for him to live up to; it seems to be never-ending, and despite hoping that getting into the school and agreeing to pursue a finance degree would have satisfied his parents and would have made them proud, river still can’t seem to be able to get off that hamster wheel. it is mentally and emotionally exhausting.

by the time he died in the politician canon, river had not really figured out exactly what his sexuality was, nor was he entirely comfortable with exploring it openly ( referring to his tense reaction to payton’s threat to tell the entire school they’d slept together ). choosing to dedicate himself to being the man his parents want him to be means that the fear of allowing himself to fully come to terms with his sexuality does not go away. it was made very clear to him that the expectation was that he would find a nice wife and raise a j. crew catalog family. still counting on familial pride being a saving grace, he continues to keep ‘that part of him,’ in astrid’s words, largely a secret.

essentially, circumstances do not change much from the politician canon, despite his continued hope that one day he will be enough for the people he cares about and so desperately wants to make proud ( which still exists largely because of payton and the faith in him he always showed and the support he gave that no one else did ).

“ you’re gonna go to college, and join the peace corps. ”

despite getting into stanford, river rejects the offer to attend columbia university instead. attending school on the opposite coast gives the opportunity for a break from the suffocation he associates with california, and ultimately decides for once to act on his own best interests and put himself in an environment where he thinks he might have a chance to finally breathe and be himself. away from the ghosts of his parents and their influence, river feels hopeful that new york will provide a new lease on life. however, the decision comes with a price, and the weight of his parents’ displeasure and disappointment is even heavier than river expected.

reports back home of his schooling and college experience are received with passive aggressive jabs, muttered wistful expressions of what could have been. “well, if you were at stanford, you could’ve been set up with [insert name of roland’s connection here] and been on a fast track to a high-paying job at the firm right out of college.” “you’re accustomed to a certain lifestyle, river, i’m not sure how you expect to maintain it on teaching degrees.” “seems like all those opportunities we worked to provide you with growing up were not quite as useful as we’d hoped they’d be.” it’s difficult for river to disappoint people; we see his willingness to please others in his decisions to run for student body president on others’ advice, in keeping the end goal of stanford in mind at the beginning of senior year, and even in the fact that he mentions trying something new every time he has sex with astrid in hopes of getting a more positive reaction from her, instead of her standard ‘you were great.’ he’s so used to living up to expectations and at the very least having that recognized, even if it’s always followed by the addition of a higher standard, so despite the liberation he anticipates coming with choosing to live for himself, to experience the opposite is crushing.

and how can he disappoint his parents even more by crushing the dreams they have for his personal, family life? distance gives him freedom, but he still knows he’s going to inevitably be returning to the superficial, inauthentic life that instilled in him habits he can’t quite break yet, that boxed him into someone he didn’t want to be and so distanced himself from the person he did want to be that river sometimes fears he won’t be able to make that his reality.

the peace corps is discussed as a stepping stone, a resume builder for when river inevitably does get that high-paying finance job, working in a skyscraper. “it could give you a leg up on international business.” but for river it’s so deeply personal, a way to give the knowledge and and facilitate the cultural exchange that he’d experienced growing up to those without the privilege that had given it to him in the first place.  it’s heartbreaking for it to be looked down upon, as well as the career he’d like to have as an educator, especially given his intent to emphasize the importance of mental health in youth in the way he might have benefitted from, in the way he would have wanted to at st. sebastian.

river is still faking it, and never feels that he’s given the freedom to actually be happy, at least to his full potential. river is so good at pulling vulnerability out of people and spends so much time and energy searching for authenticity in his life because he’s looking for permission to be his true authentic self, too. he’s terrified of what people would say or do if they knew what was under his easy-going, unfailingly friendly facade ( and this is even worsened by the way his parents handle it ), and how can he be comfortable living freely when no one else in this life is? he’s accepted for the person he is pretending to be, and being that person still proves difficult; for most, it isn’t enough. and even if / when river does get a little freedom, the rigidity of needing to keep it together and the habitualness ( so much so that it almost feels automatic ) of hiding this overwhelming depression are certainly and absolutely difficult to break and escape from.

[smallelephants]

Dynamics of a CGLRE relationship

Day 2: Starting a CGLRE relationship! 💖

So, you’ve decided to take that exciting leap into a cglre relationship?

Great!

Now, here comes the decisions, conversations, and getting to know your partner (platonic or romantic)!

~

I will create an index of sorts, so you can scroll to a certain part you want or like! This post is for experienced littles/ care givers, and for newbies (If this is you.. WELCOME CUTIE PIE! Hope you find everything you need here! 💖)!

~

Lastly, so I don’t go on a rant haha, I hope everybody has a great day/ night!! ❤️ I’m always free to talk if you want to private message me for more advice or just to vent and talk!

Index:

Adjusting to the feeling of being with your partner platonically and romantically as a little/ care giver

Getting to know your partner (suggestion of activities included)

Making time for each other

Schedules/ charts (for chores if you live together)

First time little space!

First time caregiver space!

Okay! Let’s begin!! 💖💖

So, now that you and your partner have decided to be in a cglre relationship, it time to ACTUALLY start.

It may seem nerve-wracking or unsure for a bit (if not, that’s great!), and that’s 100% okay! It’s a very unique type of bond you two will have, and for some of you who have never been in a cglre relationship, it’s ALL new. So, don’t fret! I’m here to tell you easy peach lemon squeezy ways to get comfortable with each other! 💖

Talking about your personal experiences as a little or care giver!

While this may seem nerve-wracking for people who are new to this community or who aren’t open people, I can assure you it’s a great way to get to know your partner! If you two take time to sit down and talk about your past experiences with other littles/ care givers, then it can lead to so so many other conversations. Also, talking about how you found out you’re a little or care giver can be a great thing!

Talking about your favorite experiences!

This is slightly different than just talking about past experiences because this is more specific, and it doesn’t deal in your own personal hills you had to climb to know you’re a little or care giver, OR necessarily your experience with a little or care giver. This can be maybe a moment on a play date, by yourself, with a friend, etc! Just talking about some favorite experiences (funny, emotional, warm, etc) you’ve had as a little or care giver can build a less-tense and more relaxed atmosphere as you open up to your partner!

Starting off the cglre relationship SLOW

One sure fire way of getting closer and more comfortable with your cglre partner is to take things slowly at first! I know it may seem tough if you’re excited, but trust me, you won’t regret taking the time to adjust and get comfortable. Once you’ve spent time together getting to know each other, then you can take more steps.

Go out together/ hang out!!

This is very very important for adjusting to someone as important as your little or your care giver! You MUST actually go do things together! You can watch movies at home or out, go out to eat, go to an amusement park, bake at home, etc! Or, you can just call them everyday and make sure to keep in touch for an extended period of time throughout the day, rather than just five minutes of text conversation! It’s vital that you spend time with them; quality, real time that gives you opportunities to grow closer!

Next topic is getting to know your partner! This may be new for a lot of people who aren’t used to this community, or they’re just someone who isn’t used to sharing things about themselves. But, it’s VERY IMPORTANT that you become a more open, honest person when in these types of relationships! I will touch on this subject in a later post XD

Firstly, you must understand that getting to know someone TAKES TIME! Luckily, you two have all the time in the world! Don’t feel pressured to share every secret or detail within the span of five minutes! Take your time, relax, and enjoy each other! I’ve created a list of activities or conversation starters you can do if you’re struggling with getting to know your cglre partner! 💖

The little and care giver making a top ten favorite’s list and compare (this can be cglre related or not, your choice!)

Two truths and a lie (a great way to find more out about your cglre partner!)

Quarters! (With a twist.. oooooh~) Basically, you bounce the quarter into the cup, but instead of drinking, you have to tell something about yourself! It can be a fun fact, secret, or life experience!!

A “what if” game! Ex: “If you had a million dollars, what would you do with it?” Or “If you had to pick between having the power to control fire or fly, which would you pick?” And you can always go into detail about why!

“Would you rather?” It’s a classic, but it’s still really good to know your cglre partner’s “oh heck yeah”’s and “oof no”’s

Another classic: “Never Have I Ever”! This is a great way to know how experienced your little or care giver is in the cglre community OR just know their experience in life!

The next topic is “making time for each other”! This topic is going to be a little bit long, since I do want to discuss some important things that deal with emotional abuse or dependency, so buckle in!

I won’t be discussing everything about emotional abuse, since that’s going to be a post for another day. However, I want to say that you and your cglre partner (whether you’re a little or caregiver) should have space. You should not be relying fully on your partner being around to exist. You both should have school, a job, or some other responsibility that requires time apart. Building a life for YOURSELF outside of this relationship is very very important, because you don’t want to build your life around this other person.

This means that you should not guilt your partner into spending more time together. If you find yourself begging your partner to stay home from work every day, or guilting them into not hanging out with friends like they do once a week, then perhaps you need to take a step back and slow down. It’s 100% okay (and I even highly encourage it) to have a job, to volunteer, to have time alone, or to hang with friends! You do NOT need to exist purely within this relationship!

Now that that’s said... let’s talk about how you CAN make healthy time for your cglre partner in your daily life!

Talking about your days! This can be a great way to connect while also detoxing from your long day. Take maybe 10-20 minutes at the end of the day to sit down and just TALK. It’s really good for people to communicate our stresses and problems, and who knows? Perhaps your partner can offer some guidance or advice! At the very least, they can definitely give emotional comfort and support!

Having a designated day(s) with your cglre partner! Perhaps, if you work all week, you can give yourself every Saturday to spend doing whatever y’all want together! Maybe go see a movie, go out to eat, go to an arcade, go on a walk! Anything that you two like to do, assign it a day or two every week, and FOLLOW IT! I know for me, inconsistency as a little can feel jarring, so if you’re going to make a commitment to Saturday’s, keep that commitment. If you’re not able to, talk to your partner about it! Communication, communication, communication!!!

Have an alotted time or a specified day(s) for little/ care giver space! I know that little space can sometimes hit randomly, but I think it’s a great idea to have certain times within your week alotted for little and care giver space! It’s wonderful to come home from a long day and know you’re going to have the rest of the evening with just you and your cglre partner!

Invite your cglre partner to meet your family and friends! This doesn’t mean that you have to tell your family and friends what kind of lifestyle you lead, but perhaps you can introduce them as a significant other or friend! Making your cglre partner feel comfortable around friends and family can build such trust and pride in your partner! Plus, you could eventually get invited to family/ friend events!

Have slumber parties! These are my FAVORITES (can’t ya tell haha?)! I love love love these! Staying up all night, playing games, eating snacks, etc! I love the feeling of cuddling and just relaxing all night with someone you trust! This is an AMAZING way to build a bond, get to know someone, spend quality time together, and have fun!!

This one may not apply to some (if not most) cglre relationships, as some/ most may not live together! However, I will offer many suggestions for long distance relationships or relationships where the two partners just don’t live together!

~

For cglre partners who live together:

I suggest for those that are living together (platonic or romantic), you start a schedule/ chart for chores! This is a great way to give your little a chance to earn rewards (I will discuss rewards in the next blog)! It gives them a chance to be responsible to earn praise, while also helping around the house.

Some suggested chores can include:

Cooking meals

Vacuuming

Sweeping/ mopping

Dusting

Dishes

Taking trash out/ collecting trash

Feeding/ letting out (to pee and eat) pets if you have them

What’s great about this is you can do cute sticker systems on your chart, such as hearts, Stars (my personal favorite), etc! It can be fun and colorful!

~

For those that do not live together or are long distance, don’t worry, you can STILL do this! There are many many chores apps where you can monitor your littles’ chores and responsibilities!

I will list some below:

Thumbsters- this app is amazing! It’s cute, fun, and colorful! You can have multiple littles (if this is something you and your little have agreed upon), and you can track many things beyond just chores, such as attitude! You can do rewards as well on here!

Smiles and Frowns: Rewards Chart- this app is also colorful (though, slightly less). It uses a smiles and frowns system for if your little has completed a chore, activity, or remained respectful! This, I would say, goes more in depth than Thumbsters, but the draw back is it’s not as fun/ colorful!

Mothershp- this one is interesting because it’s BOTH fun/ colorful, and also super in depth! You can alott chores, physical activity, and attitude certain point values. As they earn these point values, they can redeem them for rewards! I’d say this one is my favorite, and I highly suggest!

Now, he comes the last two topics, which can be super duper exciting!!

Firstly, little space!! Yay! 💖

~

This time can be a little awkward at first (in the best way), because it’s the first time you and your cglre partner are experiencing little space together! However, trust me, there are many activities you can do together to help it smoothen out and get more comfortable!

Coloring! This always a fun way to spend time with your little, and you can listen to them as they talk about the book! Trust me, asking a little a simple question like, “What colors are you gonna use?” Can get them REALLY ranting! (Or, at least for me, it does) Coloring together is super fun, especially when you can compare at the end and talk about it!

Watching Disney/ Pixar movies, or any cartoon movie! This can be a super fun, relaxed activity for littles, depending on their regression age! I do suggest you ask your little questions through the movie, so you can get to know their little space side even more!

Baking! You can use the easy bake ovens, or just have them help with the mixing parts of regular baking (so they don’t get hurt)! This can be so so fun, and it takes time, plus you can have ALOT of conversation! Ask about their favorite foods, foods they hate, snacks they love, etc! It’s a great way to know their little diets!

If you have a pet, like a cat or dog (I don’t suggest small animals since they’re more fragile and can get lost easily), then absolutely play with them with your little! You two can dress up the pet, even, for fun!

Speaking of dressing up... play dress up! This is a super fun way to pass time in little space! Trying on silly outfits is sooo fun for a little, and it’s gets their goofy side out more! Talk to them about what they love and don’t love clothes wise, talk to them about shoes and accessories! For me, I LOVE heels, and I could go on for hours in little space about it!

Board games! I love board games in and out of little space personally! Ones such as Candy Land, Sorry!, and Life are fun, lead to a lot of laughter, and they’re easy for a little to play when in little space!

Those are just SOME suggestions of activities you can do together when in little space for the first time to get used to it and more comfortable! As time goes on, you can do more relaxed activities, or things more specific to your little!

Now, I’ve talked to some people who don’t believe this is a thing, but trust me it is! Caregiver space isn’t as widely known as little space because it’s “age regression”, but believe me, caregiver space is real.

Caregiver space can be when a caregiver experience a large amount of love and warmth for their little, and they really want to take care of them and give them love and affection. It’s like an intensified care giver pretty much haha!

Some ways you and your cglre partner can spend caregiver space (in little space or not):

Cuddling/ snuggling! This is a way for caregivers to give a lot of affection to their little, showering them in love! And, it’s really awesome for littles too haha

Watching movies/ tv shows together! Caregivers enjoy this too, just as much as littles, and they love to see their little light up when their favorite cartoon character comes on!

If your caregiver is someone who loves to give gifts (perhaps it’s their love language), then maybe you and your caregiver can make bracelets or necklaces together with beads and string and personalize them! Or, you can paint, and just do crafts in general!

Dancing! Whatever type of dancing y’all love, do it! I prefer the cheesy slow dancing in the kitchen to old songs haha, but if you’re more the swing type of person or hip hop, do it! It’s super fun, and it bonds you both even more, plus if it’s in public, caregivers can proudly show off their little (which I know is what some caregivers love)!

Thank you for reading this! If you read this far, here’s some extra love for youuuu ❤️😍

I hope you have a great great day/ night!!!

[hungline]

birthdays aren’t important, but you are

pairing: namjin, side taegi and jihope   genre: angst, fluff, birthday au, rated g  warnings: none  words: 5000 

summary: Seokjin wasn’t really the jealous type. He had a lot of trust in Namjoon and his friends and the idea of being cheated on had never really crossed his mind throughout his entire relationship with the younger. Jealousy was a foreign feeling, but curiosity tended to overpower him more often than not. 

So when Namjoon took awhile to answer, accidentally knocking his head with the cupboard door, Seokjin paused to stare at his boyfriend. A small inkling of doubt began to prickle his mind when Namjoon answered him without meeting his eyes. 

Or, that time Seokjin thought Namjoon was cheating on him when he tried to keep a secret. 

Even with an IQ of 148, Namjoon couldn't help but feel that he was the biggest idiot in the world most of the time.

It wasn't that Namjoon was stupid or anything, he just forgot about a lot of things. He didn't forget things because his memory was faulty either; Namjoon forgot things because his mind had deemed them unimportant at one point and just let them slip past.

But there he was, standing in the middle of the grocery store a week exactly before his boyfriend’s birthday that he’d almost forgotten about. Again.

And he didn't even have the privilege of saying that he had remembered it all on his own. No, his saving grace had come in the form of a short, lanky, and overly grumpy Min Yoongi who had forced him to go grocery shopping that day.

Now Yoongi stood in front of him, hands on his slim hips and an exasperated sigh working its way up his throat.

“You forgot again, didn't you?” His tone was accusatory.

Namjoon looked at him, his face colored red with a mix of shame, chagrin, and incredulity, his shoulders shrugging slightly. “How gruesome would my murder be if I told you yes?”

“They wouldn’t be able to find your body to determine that.”

Namjoon breathed out heavily. “Fuck me.”

“Rather not.”

“That's not what I meant. Jesus.”

“You're going to see Jesus personally if Seokjin finds out you forgot about his birthday...again. That big ass brain of yours better be working overtime to come up with ideas for hyung’s birthday,” Yoongi sighed, one of his pale hands raising to massage his temples.

Namjoon offered him a weak wave of his hands and a helpless smile. Yoongi groaned.

“Don't tell me you don't even have any ideas, for fuck’s sake. You're supposed to be a genius!” Yoongi all but yelled out loud in the middle of the cereal aisle.

“Yoongi-hyung. You're going to cause a scene. Quiet down before we get kicked out of here,” Namjoon raised his hands in a placating gesture, glancing around them and taking notice of the glares their fellow grocery shoppers were shooting at them for causing a disturbance.

Yoongi exasperatedly ran a hand through his mop of black hair. “You, Kim Namjoon, are about the worst boyfriend in existence. I really do not understand one bit why Seokjin-hyung still deals with you.”

Namjoon only laughed, very used to Yoongi’s insults. “Yes, I love you too, hyung.”

He moved to give the elder a hug, but instead, Yoongi retreated with his hands held up and a look of disgust marring his features. “Ew. How about we just finish this and get our asses back home? Taehyung is waiting for me.”

Namjoon didn't hesitate to follow the elder, pushing their half-filled cart along the aisle, only stopping when Yoongi threw in another box of cereal. “How are you and Taehyung by the way?”

Yoongi only shrugged, continuing to move down the aisle. “Fine. We're good. Two year anniversary coming up. But Tae is mostly excited for hyung’s birthday though.”

When Namjoon didn't say anything in response, Yoongi barely spared the younger man a glance before he continued. “Everyone is excited, actually. Taehyung, Jimin, and Hoseok wouldn't shut up about how ‘Namjoon-hyung planned the most romantic birthday event ever for Seokjin-hyung. They're so in love it's sick. Namjoon-hyung wouldn't forget about the day the love of his life was born, don't be silly!’ Seems like only Jeongguk and I were right, and Jeongguk is five years old. Jesus Christ, Namjoon. You forgot again and you don't have any idea about what you're gonna do either.”

“Then why don't you help me instead of criticizing me, hyung,” Namjoon snapped, his patience for Yoongi’s callous manner wearing thin.

“I would, but, you see, it's not my problem. It's yours, and Seokjin’s by extension,” Yoongi stated calmly, turning the corner as they reached the end of the aisle. “Is that all you needed?”

Namjoon looked down at the shopping cart, mentally taking in everything he'd thrown in. It appeared that he had everything, but he still took out the list that Seokjin had handed him as he walked out the door containing all the things Seokjin had declared essential. Namjoon sighed, glad that everything was accounted for.

“Yep. How about you, hyung?” Namjoon glanced back up to meet the steady gaze of a still-irritated Min Yoongi.

Yoongi nodded and wordlessly lead them towards the checkout. Both men remained quiet during the checking and bagging process. It wasn't until they had loaded their groceries into Yoongi's mid-sized sedan and were buckled into their seats did Namjoon think to break their silence.

“Hyung. What should I do for Seokjin’s birthday? Please. I really do need your help.”

Yoongi huffed, his hair rising with the puff of air then flopping back against his forehead afterward. “You know Seokjin-hyung better than I do, Namjoon. I'm sure whatever you think up of, he's going to love. Just keep it a surprise would you?”

Namjoon nodded, glad that Yoongi had offered him some nonjudgmental advice for once. He thought about what he should do during the entire ride home. The streets blurring by didn’t do much to interrupt his thinking and Yoongi had been friends with him long enough to know that Namjoon shouldn’t be disturbed when he was deep in thought. He pondered over all the possible scenarios that could play out for his boyfriend’s birthday and he kept coming back to one that stood out the most. It was simple, but then again, Seokjin had never liked flashy things.

“Hey. We’re here,” Yoongi’s soft voice drew Namjoon out from his thoughts as the car came to a stop.

The younger man looked up and was greeted by the welcoming sight of home. Seokjin would be waiting inside for him, peppering his face with kisses the second he walked through the door. A lovesick smile spread across his lips as he turned back to Yoongi.

“How does dinner sound?” Namjoon asked, his voice low.

Yoongi blinked. “Are you actually asking me out, Kim Namjoon? When we both have boyfriends that we’re sickeningly in love with? What’s wrong with you?”

Namjoon only laughed. “I’m not asking you out on a date, hyung. Taehyung would cut off my dick. I mean, how does dinner sound for Seokjin’s birthday? Is it too bland of an idea?”

“Depends on where you plan to take him,” Yoongi allowed himself a small smile, somewhat relieved that the younger wasn’t actually asking him out. That would have been immensely awkward.

“That favorite Greek restaurant of his. We could all meet up there and surprise him,” Namjoon smiled again, his legs itching to step out of the car and run inside to his lover.

“Yeah, that sounds nice. Simple, the way hyung likes it. Just remember to set up a reservation, you big oaf. I’ll let the others know about it so they know not to plan anything for that day.”

Namjoon quickly hugged Yoongi. “Thanks, hyung. And don’t worry, I won’t forget. If I do, just remind me about it later, yeah?”

Yoongi scrunched up his nose as Namjoon hugged him, pushing him back just as quickly and getting distracted by one of the curtains in the front window of Namjoon and Seokjin’s house rustling as if someone had just closed it. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll remind you. Now get. I think Seokjin-hyung is getting anxious.”

Namjoon laughed again and grabbed his grocery bags, breathing out a small sigh as the chilly November air greeted him when he stepped out of Yoongi’s car. “Thanks again for the ride, hyung. See you in a week!”

He slammed the car door behind him and almost ran towards the front door in his rush to get to Seokjin as quickly as possible. Seokjin beat him to it, throwing the door open in a wide arc that only just missed clipping his shoulder by a hairsbreadth.

“Joonie!” Seokjin latched himself onto his younger dimpled boyfriend, being mindful of the groceries Namjoon carried.

“Jinnie-hyung! I missed you,” Namjoon walked into the house, Seokjin still clinging to him and his arms struggling with the weight of the grocery bags.

“You were gone for over an hour. I got worried. I thought you might've fallen victim to a freak shopping car incident or something,” Seokjin laughed, kicking the door closed behind Namjoon as they struggled into the kitchen with his hands still clasped behind Namjoon’s neck and his legs wrapped around the younger’s waist.

“Nah. A shopping cart is no match for me, babe,” Namjoon laughed from both Seokjin’s musings and his ability to hold himself up while clinging to Namjoon.

Seokjin let go of the younger when his bottom was firmly sat upon the kitchen island and turned at the waist to see Namjoon put the bags in his hands precariously on the other side of the island. Seokjin grabbed the closest bag and helped Namjoon put the groceries away, making sure that the younger didn't sneak a snack before he could even get dinner started.

“Why were you in the car for so long with Yoongi-ah?” Seokjin asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

He'd really been meaning to ask ever since Namjoon had walked through the door, but he’d been swept up into the moment of having Namjoon back home.

Seokjin wasn’t really the jealous type. He had a lot of trust in Namjoon and his friends and the idea of being cheated on had never really crossed his mind throughout his entire relationship with the younger. Jealousy was a foreign feeling, but curiosity tended to overpower him more often than not.

So when Namjoon took awhile to answer, accidentally knocking his head with the cupboard door, Seokjin paused to stare at his boyfriend. A small inkling of doubt began to prickle his mind when Namjoon answered him without meeting his eyes.

“Oh. Was it long? I didn't notice,” he chuckled nervously.

Seokjin felt his eyes narrow. “Namjoon.”

A smile spread across Namjoon’s full lips. “Hyung, don't worry. Yoongi-hyung just wanted to ask me about ideas for his two year anniversary with Taehyung-ah.”

Seokjin crossed his arms over his chest, taking notice of the nervous swiveling of Namjoon’s eyes. “And why would he ask you of all people?”

Namjoon pressed a hand to his chest, mocking offense. “I’m hurt, Jinnie. Really, I am. Out of all of us, who’d be more able to offer suggestions for a romantic night out to Yoongi-hyung?”

“Hoseok-ah,” Seokjin scoffed.

Namjoon came up short, his next words coming out almost shakily. “Well, he asked me. So I don't know. I wasn't really much help anyways.”

“Namjoon-ah. Is something going on?” Seokjin asked with a sigh.

“No. Why would you think that, babe?” Namjoon asked nervously, turning his back to Seokjin and pulling a bag of popcorn out from the cupboard.

“I know you're lying, you can't meet my eyes and your voice is doing that weird shaky thing too.” Seokjin let his eyes trail down to the floor before he let out a faltering breath. “Namjoon, are you hiding something from me?”

Before he knew it, Namjoon was gripping his chin and pulling his face upwards. He pressed his forehead against the elder’s gently, thumb caressing his bottom lip. Seokjin went cross-eyed trying to look at Namjoon in the face and ended up having to pull back aways so he could see into the younger’s dark brown eyes.

“Seokjin, baby. My only love and the light of my life,” Namjoon smiled, pressing a brief kiss to Seokjin’s nose. “Nothing is going on, alright? You're the only person who has my heart and I’m so in love with you it should be considered illegal. If I seem secretive, I’m sorry, but trust me when I say that I'm doing this for your benefit.”

“My benefit? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Seokjin pushed Namjoon back.

Namjoon looked at him, some unknown emotion marring his expression that resembled hurt. “Jinnie-hyung, come on. Don't be like that.”

Seokjin crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Namjoon. “You can have movie night by yourself tonight. I don't think I want to cuddle with someone who wants to keep secrets from me.”

With that, Seokjin stomped out of the kitchen and up the stairs until he was in the master bedroom with the door locked shut behind him.

“Shit,” Namjoon breathed out in the silence of the kitchen, wondering just how badly he'd made things then.

As the week progressed, Namjoon became more secretive.

Seokjin tried to not give it any mind, but it was really the only thing he could think of. In their three years together, Seokjin had never once second guessed Namjoon’s feelings for him. With the recent developments being taken into account, though, Seokjin felt that everything he’d thought to be true about his relationship with the younger must now be a lie.

Namjoon would sneak off early in the morning to his studio. So early, in fact, that Seokjin felt he was purposely skipping out on their daily breakfasts. The loss was all Namjoon’s though because while Seokjin ate his amazing, home-cooked omelet, Namjoon ate greasy, fast food pancakes from McDonald’s accompanied by a crappy straight-black coffee.

Seokjin often caught the younger on the phone, talking in hushed tones with whoever was on the other side. Usually, it was Yoongi, but three days in and Seokjin realized that it was their entire group of friendsーeven Jimin’s five year old son, Jeongguk, would occasionally be talking to Namjoon on the phone.

A feeling of deep hurt began to settle into the pit of Seokjin’s stomach. Not only was his boyfriend keeping a secret from him, but their entire group of friends was in on it too. He felt way worse than the odd-man-out.

Namjoon offered him no answers when he asked questions either. Seokjin’s frustration built up to a momentous point and it resulted in him doing something he’d never done before in their three years together: making Namjoon sleep on the couch. Namjoon took it all in stride, not complaining once or even retorting back angrily at Seokjin. Instead, he became more closed off, more frantic, and spent an even greater amount of time whispering nervously into the phone.

Seokjin couldn't even stand being in the same room as Namjoon anymore. He tried to distract himself with work concerning his bakery, but baking was more of a hands-only job for him and didn't really require his thoughts to pay attention to the task. Seokjin felt that his first serious relationship was spiraling out of control and he had absolutely no idea what to do.

Was Namjoon cheating on him? Was Namjoon that unhappy with their dynamic that he was fooling around with someone else to fill in the gaps at home? Had Namjoon finally gotten tired of all his annoying pet peeves and Seokjin’s numerous pity parties? Did the others know? Is that why they were always on the phone with him? Were they trying to talk Namjoon out of doing it? Did Namjoon really not love him anymore? Why was Namjoon hiding something from him? Seokjin asked himself a number of questions, but with each one that came to mind, he got further away from an actual answer.

The two barely spoke, but by day five, Seokjin had had enough.

“Namjoon, we need to talk.”

Namjoon looked up at the elder at the dinner table, his eyes opening up wide in an almost comical sense. His chopsticks froze in mid-air, on their way to deposit a piece of meat to his mouth but now dangling in the air instead, sauce dripping back onto his plate. Namjoon lowered his food and resembled a deer caught in the headlights.

“Talk? About what, hyung?” Namjoon asked, after clearing his throat.

“Us,” Seokjin answered simply.

Namjoon visibly paled and Seokjin swallowed the large lump in his throat so he could speak.

“You've been really secretive the past week, and I justー” Seokjin paused, his emotions beginning to spiral out of control.

“Jinnie, it really isn't what you think,” Namjoon whispered, as if afraid to speak any louder.

Seokjin stared at him wordlessly. Namjoon sighed and rubbed at his temples, his expression pained.

“Kim Seokjin, I swear if you think I'm cheating on you, I’m going to throw myself off a cliff,” Namjoon spoke up, louder than before and his eyes meeting Seokjin’s with a fierce determination burning within them.

“What do you expect me to think with how you've been acting? I mean, leaving early, barely talking to me, whispering on the god damned phone with god knows who. You haven't even kissed me in four days!”

“The kissing thing isn’t my fault, hyung. You won't let me get near you anymore,” Namjoon murmured.

“I wonder why that is!” Seokjin exclaimed, his hands rising up and then falling back just as quickly to slap against the surface of the kitchen table.

Namjoon bit his lip. “Seokjin. I'm not cheating on you.”

“Then why have you been so secretive?” Seokjin asked, his voice incredibly small.

“I told you before, it's for your benefit. You think I actually enjoy keeping things from you, hyung?” Namjoon asked, then rushed to answer himself when Seokjin opened his mouth to reply. “Hell, no, I do not. Leaving early in the morning, ‘whispering into the phone,’ as you say, not kissing you, sleeping on the couchーnone of those are things I enjoy in the slightest. I leave early for work so I can come back home with more money in my paycheck to spend on you. I'm talking on the phone with our friends, those guys who are practically our second family and would never do anything to hurt either of us. You won't even let me touch you, so how can I kiss you, hyung? And sleeping on the couch, I swear it feels like I can't feel my back anymore.

“Seokjin-hyung, I love you. I know my behavior has been shady this past week, but it's because I've been trying to plan a special surprise for you. Because you're my whole world and you deserve the best,” Namjoon paused, his chest slightly heaving as he looked up to see that Seokjin was crying. “No, baby, don't cry.”

The younger immediately rose from his seat and walked to Seokjin on the other side of the table until he was knelt down beside him, his hands hesitantly reaching out to comfort his boyfriend.

“Can I hold you? Is that okay, hyung?” Namjoon voiced his request nervously, wanting to comfort the elder but not wanting to force it either.

“Please,” Seokjin sobbed.

Their dinner became forgotten as Namjoon stood and pulled Seokjin up from his seat, gathering the elder in his arms. Namjoon settled for holding Seokjin bridal style as he walked slowly out of the dining room, up the stairs, and down the hallway towards their room. He kicked their bedroom door open and shuffled in sideways to avoid knocking Seokjin’s head on the doorframe.

The entire time, Seokjin clung to Namjoon, his arms wrapped around the younger’s neck, nose buried into Namjoon’s chest, breathing in the familiar smell of his that he had missed for the past couple of days. He sighed when Namjoon gently laid him down on their bed that had been too cold without the taller of the two and quickly climbed in behind him, becoming the big spoon. Seokjin turned so he was facing Namjoon and fisted his hands into his boyfriend’s shirt, burying his face into Namjoon’s neck. Namjoon pulled him closer, an arm around Seokjin’s broad back and a hand running through the elder’s brown hair.

“You know that I love you with all my heart, right?” Namjoon asked, his voice steady and his grip on Seokjin tight.

“Yes,” Seokjin whispered, knowing that a silent nod wouldn't suffice as an answer.

“Then why would you think that I’m cheating on you, hyung? Do you doubt my loyalty to you that much?”

“No,” Seokjin shook his head, his voice breaking. “It's j-just that…”

Namjoon waited for the elder to gather his jumbled thoughts so that what he said next would make some kind of sense.

“It's just that sometimes I’m really confused why you're with me. I know you love me, I know that you think highly of me, and I know that you work hard only so that you can spoil me with gifts and suchーI know that. But I still can't help but think why. I've never had a serious relationship before, you know that, and things in the beginning were scary. I was scared to even show how much I liked you back then, but now I’m more scared of losing you because I don't give back as equally as I take from you. I love you, Namjoon-ah, but sometimes I feel that maybe you could find someone who you'd be able to love even more than me and that's absolutely terrifying.”

Namjoon held him tighter. “Hyung, you're being ridiculous. There's no one other than you. My world begins and ends with you. You're it for me, no one else, just you. Hell, shit has been scary on my part too. I almost shit my pants the first time I asked you out, but from then up until now, everything has been worth it. You've given me a lot, Seokjin-hyung. Delicious food, comfort, inspiration, love, a helping hand, reassurance, a homeーI'm grateful for everything you've given me and more.

“You're the best boyfriend I’ve ever had, probably even the best friend I’ve ever had too. I know you don't see yourself the same way I or our friends do, but hyung, you’re amazing and irreplaceable. I'm going to love you for a very long time, and I truly and deeply apologize for my behavior this past week. Trust me when I say that it was all for your benefit so that the surprise I have planned is amazing,” Namjoon spoke, his voice grave and his grip on Seokjin never faltering.

Seokjin smiled, a giggle ripping its way out from his throat. “I forgive you, Joon-ah. But if this surprise sucks, I’m kicking your ass for making me go through this.”

Namjoon laughed, his chest vibrating against Seokjin’s hands with the action. “It's going to be amazing, hyung.”

“Are you sure I’m not going to knock into anything? Namjoon, this is a restaurant and a blindfold is really unnecessary,” Seokjin complained.

“Sh. We're almost there. Stop worrying, our table is literally five feet away from us,” Namjoon’s deep voice met his ears.

Namjoon was gripping onto Seokjin’s shoulder from behind as he led them towards the elder’s surprise. Seokjin would finally know what had been making Namjoon act so suspiciously for the past week. He hoped that it'd be worth it.

“Maybe I wouldn't worry if you weren't so uncoordinated,” Seokjin huffed, his lips pulling into a pout.

He heard a giggle nearby and his mind reeled. He'd be able to recognize that giggle anywhere.

“Is that Jeongguk? Joonie, what is Gukkie doing here?” Seokjin asked, raising his hands to tear away the blindfold when Namjoon let go of his shoulders and stepped away.

When the blindfold fell away, a loud chorus of “Surprise!” met Seokjin's ears. He was blinded by the gleaming light of silver helium balloons that littered the corners and a large banner running across the back wall of the private dining room that read “Happy Birthday!” It wasn't until he saw the banner that Seokjin actually remembered his birthday was that day. It had slipped his mind completely.

But he pushed that surprising thought aside as he took in the people around the dining table. All of his friends were present and accounted for. There was five-year-old Jeongguk who sat atop his father’s shoulders, his eyes shining and a large smile on his small face. Jeongguk’s young, adorable father Jimin whose eyes were almost completely forced shut by his beaming smile, his hands gripping onto Jeongguk’s feet to keep his son in place. Jimin’s positive husband Hoseok who had an arm wrapped around Jimin’s waist as he smiled at Seokjin and shot a concerned glance at his stepson. Taehyung who was grinning maniacally, holding hands with his boyfriend as he bounced up and down in place. Yoongi, Taehyung’s grumpy, short boyfriend who was irritably trying to get Taehyung to stay still, but still somehow managed to shoot a genuine smile in Seokjin’s direction. And then there was Namjoon who stood beside Yoongi, a large smile crinkling his face and a heart-shaped balloon in his arms.

“What's all this?” Seokjin asked, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Your surprise birthday party, Uncle Jinnie,” Jeongguk chirped out excitedly from his perch on Jimin’s shoulders, his little arms wrapped around Jimin’s head.

Seokjin smiled fondly at the little one, his smile spreading to accommodate the equally-fond gazes of both Jimin and Hoseok as they looked up at Jeongguk. Seokjin reached his arms out and carefully took Jeongguk off Jimin’s shoulders to hold him to his chest as he gazed back at the rest of the group.

“All this is for me?” Seokjin asked.

“All this is for you, baby,” Namjoon smiled, his grin as wide as ever. “I hope you like it. I spent the whole week planning this out.”

Seokjin shot him a pointed look. “I know, Mr. Whispering-on-the-Phone.”

Yoongi laughed. “Don't blame him, hyung. It was my idea to keep this a secret. I'm honestly surprised Namjoon-ah was able to keep it under wraps.”

“I know, right? I thought it would've been noticeable by how many times a day he called us,” Taehyung laughed.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Namjoon huffed.

“That you can't keep a secret to save your life, hyung,” Jimin giggled.

“Yah! Hoseok, control your husband! He's bad-mouthing me,” Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest, pouting.

Hoseok laughed. “My Jiminie is a free spirit and will do as he pleases. Besides, it's not bad-mouthing if it's true.”

“You too?” Namjoon asked as the others began to laugh around him. “Will I remain alone in this battle? Shall I face this frontier by my lonesome self? Is no one on my side?”

“I'm on your side, hyung!” Taehyung leaped onto Namjoon’s back, giggling the whole time over Namjoon’s theatrics.

“Nevermind. I change my mind. I'd rather be the odd-man-out if it meant I didn’t have to give you piggyback rides,” Namjoon huffed, tryingーand failingーto get Taehyung off, the heart-shaped balloon now floating up above them. “Jesus, what have you been eating, Tae?”

“Are you implying that my boyfriend is fat?” Yoongi asked, cocking his head to the side as Taehyung let out an indignant huff and clung even tighter to Namjoon.

Seokjin giggled but turned to give Jeongguk his attention when the smallest of their group spoke up.

“Why does Uncle TaeTae get a piggyback ride from Uncle Joon? I want one too!” Jeongguk wailed, wiggling his fingers towards Jimin as he leaned away from Seokjin. “Come on, Papa! I want a piggyback ride. Don't be mean, Papa! Give me one, please!”

Seokjin shifted around and quickly positioned Jeongguk on his back, making sure that the five year old was secured before beginning to move. “How about a ride from your Uncle Jinnie, Gukkie?”

Jeongguk giggled, his laughter pealing like bells as Seokjin pretended to be a horse. Taehyung slid off Namjoon’s back when he became distracted by Jeongguk’s laugh and landed on his bottom. Yoongi helped his boyfriend stand and dusted him off as Namjoon watched Seokjin play with Jeongguk. Eventually, Hoseok got Jeongguk on his own back and started neighing to entertain his son.

“Anyways, are we going to eat anytime soon?” Yoongi asked, motioning his hands towards the cake on the table and the waiter that had just appeared at the door of the dining room.

“Yes! Let's order!” Seokjin took his seat at the head of the table and waited patiently as everyone else sat down at their places.

They let Jeongguk order first, and then quickly bickered over what they should get. After ordering and then eating the food, Seokjin turned back to Namjoon who was sitting on his right. “So, you really planned all of this? I thought birthdays weren't important to you?”

Namjoon blushed, a small smile spreading across his lips as he gazed back at Seokjin. “They’re not. But you are.”

Seokjin felt that his answering smile could have blinded the actual sun.

“I love you, Namjoon-ah.”

“I love you, Seokjin-hyung.”

“Hey, we all love you too, hyung! Now come on, let's cut the cake and sing happy birthday to the most amazing man on the planet,” Yoongi interrupted, his gummy smile taking up most of his face.

They all stood back up and lit the candles atop the cake. Taehyung started them off with a whistle and everyone else sang the song that felt as old as time as they celebrated the blessed day of their hyung’s birth. Seokjin felt overly emotional as he gazed back at his group of friends, appreciation for them blooming up in his chest.

“Happy birthday, hyung. Make a wish,” Namjoon whispered to him.

Seokjin stared at him, taking in every little detail of his boyfriend’s appearance. The past week had been rough. Seokjin had felt like an emotional mess, but somehow it all felt very worth it in the end. Because there he was with the love of his life and his closest friendsーhis family. Seokjin smiled.

He leaned forward and blew out the candles, not needing to make a wish. Because everything he'd ever need, was everything that he already had.

Immediately after, Seokjin turned to his right and kissed Namjoon fiercely. Then he let what had been lurking in the back of his mind for over six months burst forth through his lips.

“Joon-ah. Marry me?”

 ("Yes.")

[raendown]

Commission for @cassieeeeanne.

Pairing: KakashiShikamaru Word count: 4013 Rated: E Summary:Coming home after a long day to see only one light left on in their house, Kakashi finds quickly himself bound by shadows and helpless to the whims of the master who wields them. He loves every second of it. Just as he loves every second of this life they've built together.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

影の縛る

The lights were off. He had a good view of all the windows in their modest little bungalow from down the street and he could very clearly see that all the lights were off. Of course, that didn’t mean there couldn’t be any on in the back of the home but it was strange considering Shikamaru’s habit of leaving at least one lamp lit in every room he passed through during the evening. Preparing yourself for battle was a habit no shinobi could ever fully kick even when they had spent the last two weeks on forced vacation.

Because someone didn’t know how to turn their brain off and just let themselves rest.

What made him sad about the anomaly was the chance that Shikamaru might not be home when he got there. Despite the fact that his was the loudest voice sending the man on vacation it had been an actual hellscape in the weeks without him at work and coming home to a warm smile at the end of the day with increasingly elaborate dinners hot on the table had become the only thing keeping him sane. Now it looked as though his partner might have finally taken his advice to go spend time with some of their other friends and he found himself oddly disappointed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been lonely since they moved in together but it seemed he would be tonight.

Or so he thought until he stepped through the back door they both typically came and went through and noticed a single light on down the hall. The hour was fairly late, endless paperwork keeping him chained to his desk long past when he would have disappeared if not for Sakura’s watchful eye glaring at him from her own little makeshift desk across the room. Considering the time it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that his partner had given up and gone to bed already.

Kakashi did his best to keep that in mind, moving as quietly as possible as he kicked off his sandals in a messy heap and padded in to the kitchen for some much needed dinner. Just as he expected there was a plate of dinner waiting for him in the fridge that he stood over the sink and wolfed down without bothering to heat it up, not wanting the microwave to make tons of noise in case his bedtime suspicions were correct. It didn’t taste anywhere near as good as he knew it would have were he sitting across the table from Shikamaru with their feet crossed together in a big messy heap while they casually stole bites from each other’s meals.

After washing the plate and his hands Kakashi shrugged the wrinkled haori that served as a badge of office from his shoulders and folded it across one arm with the intention of getting undressed in the bathroom. His plan was put on hold when he stepped out of the kitchen and noticed that the single lamp still burning in the living room was casting a very familiar shadow.

Smiling gently now, he changed directions and went to see if his partner had fallen asleep on the couch reading again, something that happened with adorable frequency.

The smile faded briefly when something wrapped around his legs and locked him in place, creeping up the trunk of his body to spiral back down his arms. By the time the jutsu reached his head Kakashi found himself entirely immobilized and yet all he could do was grin sheepishly at the figure watching him from the couch with a passive expression.

“I know I was supposed to be home a little earlier but wouldn’t you say this is a little excessive?” he asked, pulling at the Shadow Stitching more to make a show of struggling than because he thought he could break free. Shikamaru hummed.

“What makes you think I’m upset that you came home late?”

“Oh, it might be the ambush. Might be the holding me in place. Something in there feels like you’re upset. I don’t suppose you would listen to a few excuses before you dole out whatever punishment that brilliant mind of yours has come up with?” Kakashi offered a winning smile, grateful he hadn’t bothered replacing his mask after eating.

Shifting a little farther back in to the shadows, Shikamaru scoffed. “I am far from upset, though you still don’t get to move. Tell me something. Do you know what day it is today?”

Immediately the guilt retuned tenfold. Clearly he had missed some important anniversary and while Kakashi might be a lazy person and he might appear to others not to care very much about anything he had always put as much effort as he could in to this relationship. Dates and anniversaries were something he was good at thanks to a simple glance at the calendar with his Sharingan but even wracking his permanent memories yielded nothing. He was forced to shake his head with a pathetically apologetic face.

“Today is a rather obscure holiday that surprisingly originates from the Hyuga, National Recommitment Day.” Leaning forward so that Kakashi could finally see all of him, Shikamaru gave a deadly smirk when it became clear he was completely naked. “I thought to myself, what better way to show my commitment than to indulge you in some of those fantasies we haven’t tried out yet?”

“Oh the gods are smiling on me,” Kakashi breathed.

“If they aren’t, I certainly am.”

“Hallelujah,” he declared fervently.

Since he had a few dozen fantasies they still hadn’t tried it was hard to narrow down which particular one his lover had in mind until he realized that the Shadow Stitching hadn’t budged so much as an inch, forcing him to keep still and watch as the man across from him adjusted the lamp to give them just a little more light. When he leaned back across the couch he looked like a feast, the ultimate temptation, and it was glorious torture watching him slide both palms down the planes of his chest at an unhurried pace. Shikamaru did almost everything at an unhurried pace.

When he reached the top of his thighs his hands dipped inward and curled so he could drag his nails lightly against the sensitive skin. From experience Kakashi knew exactly what it was like to do that himself and feel Shikamaru shivering pleasantly against him but now he could do no more than drink in the sight of that beloved face tilting back to expose a pale throat so perfect for nibbling. Oh how he wanted to nibble.

“You’re being very mean to me,” he whimpered, still not bothering to struggle since he knew it would do him no good. He was unsurprised to hear his partner scoff.

“I’m being very nice to you right now. Wasn’t this your favorite scene from the latest Icha Icha? Junko’s adventure exploring herself in the bathtub, knowing she was being watched but not caring?” Shikamaru slid one hand down to cup and roll his own sacs. “If I remember correctly she found it rather thrilling to have someone look upon her with such hunger.”

“Well I can definitely say I’m hungry for something right now.”

“Not to worry,” Shikamaru purred. “I’ll make sure you get your fill.”

Instead of moving upwards as Kakashi expected him to do he stretched his hand down farther, scratching a line up his perineum just to make himself shiver again. His legs spread wider as though he, like the character Junko, wanted to put as much of himself on display as he could. Only when Kakashi let out a quiet whimper did he bring his hand back up to palm the cock sitting full and heavy in his lap.

Without a hint of shame he let out a slow groan of appreciation for his own touch, closing his fingers in a loose grip and drawing light circles around the tip with his thumb. His lips parted in a soft yet obscene expression of pleasure when he finally began stroking himself, base to tip, in a steady rhythm more designed to tease his audience than anything else.

It was definitely working. Kakashi couldn’t decide if he wanted his cock inside that fist of long elegant fingers or if he wanted to be the hand honored with pleasuring such a beautiful man but either way he desperately yearned to be a part of what was happening on the couch. He had also never been this turned on before in his life. Something about being forced to watch his partner give himself pleasure was incredibly hot in the same way getting all worked up only to be denied orgasm at the last minute drove him absolutely wild.

He really was lucky to have a partner who not only knew all his kinks but accepted them, was willing to play up to them. All the way home he’d been looking forward to a relaxing night with Shikamaru but he hadn’t expected anything nearly on this level. Later he would have to ask what he’d done to deserve such a scrumptious treat but for now all he could do was stand still and let the shadows binding him in place take his weight when he felt his knees almost buckling. Shikamaru smirked, feeling the pull against his jutsu, and opened his legs just a little wider again. From this position his entrance was just barely out of sight but now Kakashi could see the glimmer of shine on his inner thighs.

The dirty rotten tease had already prepared himself and now he was sitting naked and slick on their living room couch and Kakashi wanted him so bad he could taste it. When he said as much he got a wicked look in return.

“Oh, would you really like a taste?” Shikamaru asked, giving him pause for a moment before he decided that playing along could only lead to more good things.

“Yes please. I’m always happy to get a taste of you, love.”

“Flattery will get you nothing that I wasn’t already going to give you, Kakashi.”

He almost laughed but the amusement was cut short when he felt the shadows pulling at him, forcing his body to move however Shikamaru wanted him to. If it were anyone else Kakashi knew he would have called a red light and put a stop to their little game right there, not exactly a fan of being forced to perform actions like he was a fan of being bound for sexy reasons. When he was bound there was always a little voice in the back of his mind reminding him that he was a strong shinobi, he could fight his way out of almost any situation if he needed to. Having his bodily autonomy removed was a different story.

But with Shikamaru there existed that level of trust he had only experienced with fewer other people than he could count on one hand. Knowing it was Shikamaru pulling the strings kept him calm and little more than curious as his body was made to walk across the room where he was then folded to kneel by the couch.

“Well?” Shikamaru demanded as though bored. “Go ahead and have a taste.”

A flick of one finger and Kakashi was gently bowed forward until his mouth hovered just over where his partner was still lazily stroking himself. He licked his lips with gratitude when he realized what was expected of him; a boon, actually, considering he had only just been battling with his desire to take part.

“Thank you,” he murmured, appropriately grateful.

He waited politely until Shikamaru’s hand stopped moving and brought that delicious looking cock right to his lips before opening his mouth and dragging his tongue along the flushed head. After lapping a few times he wriggled with the intention of freeing his head, almost surprised to have his wish granted, then immediately put his new freedom to use by lowering his neck to take the entire head in his mouth – and then he groaned with relief. This was exactly what he had been craving and he hadn’t even known it until it was given to him.

It felt like all the stress of the past few days was flowing out of him bit by bit as he sank down, letting his eyes fall closed to properly enjoy the sensation of having his mouth filled. Soft noises egged him on and Kakashi mourned for a brief moment that he didn’t have use of his hands to better pleasure his lover but he was more than capable of giving his best with nothing but lips and tongue. Fingers wove their way in to his hair, gentling guiding his movements without controlling them, some of the shadows immobilizing his head relaxing their hold to let him do as he would.

Kakashi smirked around his treat when he felt Shikamaru’s thighs begin to tremble. His partner had always been weak to a good blowjob and he knew damn well that every blowjob he’d ever given was good. It was still always nice to know that he hadn’t lost his touch, as evidenced by the way the fingers in his hair began tugging absently after only a minute or two, small involuntary jerks that danced in time with the patterns he drew with his tongue. For each quiet moan he hallowed his cheeks and for each hitch of breath he dipped his tongue in to the slit to taste the precum beading there. He wasn’t surprised in the least to be pulled away long before his jaw even had a chance to feel the strain of staying open.

“Fuck’s sake,” Shikamaru mumbled. “I was gonna order you around some more but it’s too bothersome, just get up here and fuck me would you?” With that he released his Shadow Stitching and reached to pull Kakashi off the floor.

“I always have to do all the work,” he pretend to complain.

“You like it.”

Tumbling his partner down across the cushions and spreading his legs to see the glistening hole already stretched and waiting for him, Kakashi smirked. “I enjoy making you feel good,” he admitted.

“Well it would sure make me feel good if you could get on with things before I put you back on your knees and finish on that smarmy tongue on yours.” Shikamaru glared but there was no heat behind the expression, not even when his words earned a quick laugh.

“As much as that would not be a punishment at all you know I am always on board with fucking you in to the couch.”

“So fuck me then, damn it!”

“Maa, yes sir.”

Quelling his laughter was as easy as letting Shikamaru pull him down in to a kiss. Kakashi followed with the rest of his body carefully, slipping in between the thighs so eagerly parted for him and using one hand to line himself up. For a moment he questioned if he should grab some extra lube just in case but just pressing the head of his cock against the area was enough for him to tell there was plenty of lubricant.

Shikamaru must have been stretching himself here in the living room while Kakashi walked home from work and wasn’t that a pretty little picture to imagine?

Completely ignoring any further attempts to hurry him along until he was good and ready to do so himself, Kakashi took his time pressing inside just to enjoy the sweet relief of friction after being denied any touch up until now. Almost better than the physical pleasure was the sight of Shikamaru’s face going lax and both of his hands fisting against the couch as well as he could. When Kakashi bottomed out inside of him his eyelashes fluttered shut in what must surely be the most blissful expression anyone had ever worn. Then he cracked them back open with a heated stare, soft light from the lamp casting half of his face in to mysterious darkness.

“Make me scream,” he commanded.

Kakashi grinned as he pulled out slowly but neither of them were able to keep up the amusement when he thrust his hips forward again. Immediately caught up in how good it felt to be inside of the other man, all thoughts of humor and teasing flew out of his mind as Kakashi took up a brutal rhythm right from the start. In his peripheral vision he could see Shikamaru’s hands scrabbling to get a better grip and brace himself to ride out the motions. Each thrust shifted them just a little until eventually he was fucking his partner in to the corner of the couch, folding him in half and driving in to him with animalistic focus.

Sweat gathered on both of their brows and dampened their hair and still Kakashi pushed closer to the man underneath him. The dark parts of him that had taken over simply couldn’t conceive of pulling away until they had both been satisfied, frantically rutting in to the eager body opened to him, racing towards the tension he could feel gathering inside. The heart inside his chest felt as though it were beating in his throat and yet the only thought Kakashi could keep in his head was how beautiful Shikamaru looked on the verge of ecstasy.

He could tell his partner wouldn’t last much longer when Shikamaru began trying to wedge a hand between their bodies to take himself in hand. It was hard to ignore the first instinct to deny him, the need to be the one to drive his partner over the edge without help, but Kakashi could admit that he was ever a slave to the other’s needs and he knew how much Shikamaru enjoyed coming with a hand around his own cock while Kakashi drove in to him without mercy.

Pulling back just enough to bat the reaching hand away and wriggling his own between them was still too far apart in his mind at that moment. He did it anyway so he could feel the weight of a dripping cock in his palm, run his thumb through the slit to gather precum and using it to create an easy glide as he began pumping Shikamaru in time with his own frantic thrusts.

“Ah!” the moment his hand took off in proper motion it was as though he had released a beast. Unable to keep still with so many good sensations coming at him from two directions, Shikamaru writhed and bucked as well as he could in the limited space between couch and top. As always happened when both of them were teetering so close to the edge, the rhythm of their movements began to break down in to arrhythmic rutting, both of them frantically moving their hips to chase their own pleasure and just hoping to the gods that it worked for the other as well.

“Come on,” Kakashi panted, one hand holding his weight with a tight grip on the back of the couch and the other stroking in a pattern that only made sense to him. “Scream for me, love, that’s it.”

“Shit, fuck, don’t fucking- ah- don’t fucking stop!” Shikamaru writhed a little harder, jaw clenched, every muscle in his body tensing with anticipation.

Whether it was the passage around him slowly tightening and driving him wild or the fact that he was always weak to these few shining moments when Shikamaru threw laziness out the window to swear and writhe and make demands, Kakashi was the first to tip over the edge with a drawn out moan. It was almost a herculean effort to keep his hips in motion and prolong his own orgasm just enough to shift the angle of his thrust but he was rewarded when he impacted his lover’s prostate and Shikamaru followed him in to bliss with a loud shout.

The two of them shuddered against each other in the aftermath, gasping for air after such wild exertion. Shikamaru released his death grip on the couch and lifted both arms to wrap them loosely around Kakashi’s shoulders, not truly gripping him but rather draping himself as well as he could in a semblance of a hug, lazy habits already reasserting themselves.

“I knew I could make you scream,” Kakashi mumbled in to the sweaty skin he was pressing his face against. He smiled a little lopsidedly when he felt Shikamaru’s body huffing with silent chuckles.

“Do you want a pat on the head for a job well done?”

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t say no.” Nuzzling a little, he made sure to leave a few kisses before he pulled away so they could look each other in their equally dopey looking eyes. “I think I would be much more interested in carrying you to bed, though.”

Shikamaru pretended to think about it while his body melted further and further in to the couch cushions. “Hmm. I suppose I could be talked in to letting you carry me.”

“Of course you could. You like it when I carry you places.”

“It means I don’t have to walk there myself.”

“Too bothersome?”

“You know me so well.”

Kakashi rolled his eyes good-naturedly and gave a loud put upon sigh. Before he moved he swooped in for a few more kisses and called it payment for his services, though he was probably the one who owed a bit of thanks for such a delightful surprise after a long day at work.

He pulled away as carefully as possible and hurried to reach for the tissues nearby, not wanting the couch to obtain any unsightly stains. That would definitely be the first thing pointed out the next time any of their friends dropped by for a visit and they would never live it down. Before he could carry anyone anywhere he had to scoot over to the kitchen and throw all the tissues in the garbage but when he returned Shikamaru held out both arms like a spoiled prince and jokingly turned his nose up in silent command.

“I spoil you, you know that right?”

“Yes but you enjoy it so that makes it okay,” Shikamaru said.

Not bothering to hold back his smile, Kakashi nodded. “Fair enough.”

In his head he was already making plans for what meetings he could move around to schedule a day off of his own and what sort of scene he might set to pay his partner back for such this evening’s surprise. Most of the options in his head would require him to put together a little outfit. The man might not enjoy putting in a lot of effort to most things himself but Shikamaru did like it when Kakashi dressed up in certain skimpy outfits for him.

The final decision on that could be made another day, however. At such a late hour it was no surprise that both of them were yawning by the time they tumbled down on the mattress together. Covering both of them with the sheet and kicking all the rest of the blankets away, Kakashi pulled Shikamaru to his chest and nosed around until he found the pale neck hiding underneath all that long dark hair. He had to turn his head away and fight off a yawn first but he made sure to dust a few more kisses before cuddling in and closing his eyes for the night.

“Welcome home,” Shikamaru muttered to the dark room. “I don’t think I said that earlier.”

“Maa, I felt very welcomed nonetheless.”

No matter how many years they spent together it would never stop thrilling him how welcomed he felt each day he came home to Shikamaru, how easily the younger man had turned his empty in to a place of peace. Releasing all thoughts of anything else but the small cocoon their bodies made in the bed, tightening his grip, Kakashi hoped that his partner knew how much he was loved; he felt much the same himself.

[elianaevergreenstormcloak]

Seven thousand steps farther - 23 rd of Last Seed – 4 E 201 – Ivarstead

She reached Ivarstead in the late hours of afternoon and stayed at the inn for the night. Perched over the borders of Eastmarch, and nestled in the foothills of Tamriel’s tallest summit, Ivarstead was a sight to behold. Farms and crops outstretched in stair terraces all the way down the hill, to the first line of pine trees marking the boundaries of the hold. Cascades and torrents of silvery water, born from the eternal snows at the apex of the peak, ran down the slopes of the mountain to fuel rivers and lakes around. Life revolved around sowings and harvests, and in those late summer days, the inn was quiet from dusk, and the village busy from dawn.

:readmore:

“What can you tell me about High Hrothgar?”, Eliana asked, as she tightened the buckles of her satchel and backpack, making sure the additional weight would not impede her climb too heavily.

“The Greybeards are a solitary lot.”, the innkeeper replied. “I don’t think they’ve ever ventured outside their monastery. We get the occasional pilgrim passing through here on their way to the summit, but almost all of them have returned disappointed.”

The young woman pensively nodded.

“I won’t.”, she smiled assertively. “Anything I should be cautious of, on my way up?”

“Klimmek makes the climb every one or two months. Knows the pathway like the back of his hand. He might be able to give you some advice. You should find him at his fishery, on your way out of the hamlet. Best of luck on your way. Make sure to make a stop on your way down.”, he added as the young woman headed to the door. “Our bard, Lynly is quite fond of the pilgrims’ tales. Makes up for the boredom of our provincial life, I imagine…”

“I will.”, she answered. “Thanks a lot.”

Mist and morning dew twirled above the river in rubans of smog, in which floated like fireflies the dying ambers of the bridge lantern.

Down a wooden pontoon, a man was setting his canes and nets, for the day, and straightened wiping his brow, when the shade of a newcomer came obscurcing his work.

“Damn bears got another of our nets.”, he mumbled, not even looking up from his handiwork. “Beyond repair, this time. Got to have it replaced next time you head to Rift-”

The fisherman froze, upon realising his mistake.

“Sorry, milady.”, he offered, dropping back the torn net on the floor. “Mistook you for my associate – not that you look anything like him”, he mumbled attively, “ ‘tis just that I didn’t expect…”

“There’s no offence taken, don’t worry.”, Eliana reassured him with a smile as the man drowned himself in apologies. “You’re Klimmek? The innkeeper told me to come to you for advice on the pilgrim’s path to High Hrothgar.”

“You’re heading to High-Hrothgar now? This time of the year?”

“Believe me, it wasn’t my first choice.”, she snorted, remembering how many times she had delayed her project of a pilgrimage to the Gildergreen, and did not even take time to make a stop by the temple when she was in Whiterun. “Anything I should be particularly cautious of, on my way up?”

The man considered her for a moment. “I usually avoid making the climb in the hottest and coldest months. Extreme conditions make the path treacherous, stones come lose either from frost or meltdown, and a good tumble is not the worst you risk, if you trip up there. Storms can be sudden, and quite strong. The summit blocks clouds from both north and south and the wind can blow quite hard, so I advise you find shelter in one of the station, if you see the weather is changing. Apart from that, there’s the occasional pack wolf, or stray bear, and some pilgrims talked of trolls - I never saw one - but this time of the year, whatever you’ll encounter will have food aplenty, so they shouldn’t attack you, unless provoked. Do not stray from the path, and everything will be fine.”

Eliana crossed the bridge, and began the ascension just as the sun started its course from the horizon, and the sky turned a brighter shade of blue as mist and smog lifted, leaving in their stead only the fresh sting of spray and the faint crisp air descending from the mountain. Her mind heavier from Klimmek’s warnings, but her heart set as ever on the task at hand, she reached the first station, and knelt before the carven stone. Cuneiform writing in the tongue of the Nords of old spread on the dark granite arch, as on the tablet were traced in several times erased and rewriten words, a tale older than time.

'Before the birth of Men, the Dragons ruled all Mundus.

Their word was the Voice, and they spoke only for True Need.

For the Voice could blot the Sky and flood the Land.’

'Men were born, and spread over the face of Mundus.

The Dragons presided over the crawling masses

Men were weak then, and had no Voice.’

'The fledging spirits of Men were strong in Old Times

Unafraid to war with Dragons and their Voices

But the Dragons only shouted them down and broke their hearts.’

'Kyne called on Paarthurnax, who pitied Man

Together, they taught Men to use the Voice

Then the Dragon War raged, Dragon against Tongue.

'Man prevailed, shouting Alduin out of the world,

Proving for all that their Voice too was strong,

Although their sacrifices were many-fold.’

She came to a halt, resting her back against the stone, taking cover from the freezing wind as the tale weighted heavily on her soul. The story of the world, of the first Dragon Break, was unfolded before her, a legend carved in stone that felt like a life-time repressed memory and echoed to her soul with deafening truth.

Overwhelmed, she closed her eyes and took in a few deep breaths, fumbling with the cords of her bag to set her gourd free, and took a few long gulps of ice cold water before she forced her mind back on Nirn.

Just over the edge of the rock outcroping hovering the emptiness, the whole of Skyrim stretched to the horizon, from the foothills of the mountain. Far below, she could see the plains of Whiterun fade into the green lands and vast pine forests of Falkreath, the black arches of Bleak Falls Barrow detaching themselves from the sparkling waters of Lake Illinalta, and, at the far edge of White River valley, drowned in the mist, and behind a crest, the ruins that used to be Helgen.

Hugging her knees to her chest, she averted her gaze and grabbed some food from her satchel before she risked a glance up the snowy slopes of the Throat of the World. The path was wide enough for now, but she feared the higher she’d climb, the narrower the stairs…

Already, the eroded stone steps were often swallowed by the earth and provided little guidance regarding the way to follow, and Eliana more than once had to dig out the carven stones to ensure she was indeed heading the right way. Moreover, if the morning winds carried in their wake naught but the crisp cold of fresh fallen snow and the twinkle of stalactites melting against the sunbathed rocks, the early hours of the afternoon had seen the skies darken, and the heavy clouds gathering at the summit, breaking on the mountain like spume on a cliff, augured nothing good for the rest of her journey.

She had reached about the fifth etched tabled when at a turn of the path marked by two tall standing stones, a light snow strated falling. Quickly, the sparse grass and mountain flowers disappeared, leaving in their stead only rocks and wide snowdrifts.

Eliana shivered, the wind biting harshly at her exposed flesh. She tightened her cloak around her shoulders, and nestled her face in the woolen inside of her hood. Even the birds seemed to have deserted these heighs, and no sound from the valley longer reached her ears, other than the howling of the wind. Strong gusts of freezing wind, charged with powder snow drifted over the edges of the mountain, stinging her skin and burning her lungs. Running her hand against the slope, farther from the precipice, and digging her heels deep in the snow to anchor her to the ground as the gale grew in strength, Eliana muttered a word of thanks to the gods as, at the end of the flight of stairs, a tall rock outcropping came covering the road, in a long natural tunnel.

She made a stop just past the entrance, relieved to see snow recede, and cobblestones emmerge from the ground, a seemingly long portion of the road carrying on under the protection of the stone.

But as the wind quietened, and the air grew heavy and moist, a scent of rot came to her nostrils, sparkling in her a well-trained instinct. Squinting to pierce through the darkness, she could glimpse the outlines of remains, stacked against the walls of the gorge. The smell and sound betrayed the presence of the predator before her eyes could fathom the mass of muscles and fur detaching itself from the dark recesses of the cavern to charge upon her.

Fire engufed the defile, casting a most unwanted light upon the beast’s lair. Teeth and claws sharp as scythes slashed through the air. Eliana dodged, fire at her fingertips keeping the troll at bay, but fear could only fend sheer blind rage for that long.

The troll charged through the wall of flames, propelling her to the ground. Breath knocked out of her lungs, Eliana rolled to the side as the beast plunged on her. Massive fists hit the ground, where she lied seconds before, shattering the eternal ice like glass.

“FUS!”

The word swole past her lips at its own volition, and reverberated long through the valley.

Shoved away, the troll let out a furious roar, long limbs taut as bows and empty black eyes fixed on its prey. A wall of flames engulfed it.

Eliana straightened, white hot fire crackling in her palms, and relief washing over her as a second fireball hit the troll’s writhing form and drowned its cries of agony in the blaze.

She heard too late the roars of the second monster, awoken from its light slumber by the fracas of battle. A howling - unlike anything she had ever heard - and the crack of trunks shattered in splinters in its wake filled the air. The ground trembled. A sound like bones fracturing broke from the mountain’s side. Blocks of ice and stone detached themselves from the roof of the tunnel as snow engulfed the entrance and unfurled through the passage way in a deadly cold wave.

Eliana bolted through the cave, dodging spikes and shards of rock falling from the ceiling as a long crack tore through. Snow and hail fell in a curtain from the chasm, enlarging the breach to the breaking point. The bones of the earth broke, and the tunnel ripped in half, leaving in its stead a gapping wound, bleeding snow and rock in an endless cascade that came to die quietly into the plain.

Battered against the rock, Eliana struggled to breathe. The weight of the mountain crushing her ribs, she curled and struggled against snow and debris – not to dig herself out, but to alleviate the pain. Her air rare and lungs oppressed by the cold, she still managed to percieve the faint light of day through the hard layer of snow. Closing her eyes, and willing her breathing long and calm, she focussed the last of her magicka in a weak, but steady fire, hoping she would hold long enough to melt through the ice and dig herself a way out.

Warm water prickled like embers on her cheeks. The heat of the flames burned her fingers, as blood rushed back to her extremities. But when a gust of freezing cold wind whipped through the roof of her ice coffin, and allowed her for a deep constricting breath, she realised with dread that escaping the deathgrip of snow might be the least of the hardnesses she’d face on her way to safety.

Sun was slowly but surely setting west, bathing the mountain in a gold and rose light, as above her, the skies turned dark and stars like fireflies danced on the firmament.

'Fear not this night.’, she recited, digging her way through the snow, and struggling to keep enough focus to maintain the shadow of a flame in the palm of her hand. 'You will not go astray.’

Snow impeded her movements. Debris carried from the mountain’s slopes littered all that remained from the path, a white cold edge overlooking a dark emptiness, threatening to collapse at the slightest chance.

'Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way…’

Darkness and blizzard had engulfed the Throat of the World when, a distance ahead, the flickering light of lanterns filtering through stained glass came piercing through the night.

A brazier burned, atop of a flight of stairs, on the right of which, in an alcove sheltered from the whims of weather, a tall statue of a man slaying a serpent overlooked the path.

Clenching the broken amulet of Talos around her neck, shivering and stumbling, she climbed the stairs and pushed the black-iron doors. A wave of warm, encense and resin charged air whipped her face. The contact of stone under her body was her last with reality.

She came by to the sound of a fire crackling nearby, and the scent of dust and herbal tea, covering that of smoke and resin. A heavy thurible was hanging above the bed, warm light and ghostly ribbons of smog twirling over its edge. Banners of teal and pale yellow ornated the dark massonry of the temple she barely remembered reaching.

She straightened, the pain in her ribs gone, with only a bruise and a few frost burns to remind her of her misadventure. Her robes were drying on the back of a chair, water still dripping from the sleeves and bevelled hem, and a warm dark wool cover wrapped around her, keeping at bay the cold her breast-band and breeches could not. A steaming hot bowl of amber liquid rested on a stone stand, on her right, the warmth and fruity taste of snowberies and dragontongue bitterweet on her tongue. She coughed, and put the empty bowl back on the stand, before she dared try her footing. Her muscles protested, a cold gust of air prickling her skin, but she was otherwise fine. She searched for her bag, finding it at the foot of the bed, and pulled Gerdur’s green dress from the pack, relieved to find it slightly damp but still dry enough to be worn.

Keeping the blanket wrapped around her shoulders - the linen dress too thin for the crisp air of the monastery – she descended the corridor to a flight of stairs, and reached into a wide open hall, littered with potteries and candles.

Kneeling before a bas-relief depicting Kyne enlightened by a brasier, a hooded monk slowly rose to his feet to greet her. The young woman bowed respectfully.

“I am Master Arngeir.”, the elder introduced himself. “I speak for the Greybeards. Few are those who find their way to our sanctuary, in those troubled times. Fewer who dare to brave the wrath of Kynareth on the pilgrim’s path. Tell me, now, traveler, what have you come looking for, in High Hrothgar?”

“Guidance.”, the young woman breathed. “I… am answering your summons.”

A spark of recognition ignited in the elder’s eyes.

“So… A Dragonborn appears, at this moment, in the turning of the age.”, he breathed in reverence. “The Breath of Kyne herself murmurs through your Voice. We are honored to welcome you to High Hrothgar.”, he greeted as three other monks joined the hall and bowed in turn to their visitor. “You must have many questions…”

The young woman nodded.

“Why me?”

“That is for you to discover.”, the elder smiled comfortingly. “Many have come, before you - many of the Dragon Blood - since the One first bestowed that gift upon mortalkind, in search for answers to the same question. But Akatosh’s will lies beyond the sight of mortals, and even the very wise cannot see all His ends. As for your destiny, it is not ours to question.”, he mused, considering the young woman before him. “If it is guidance and wisdom you seek, we will help you in that pursuit, just as the we have sought to guide those of the Dragon Blood that came before you.”

Eliana nodded silently.

Ever since her encounter with the dragon, since his soul scorched through hers and in his dying breath he named her dovahkiin, a sense of impending doom weighted heavily on her shoulders. Her steps were hard and painful, like fighting against a current there was no escaping from. But when she reached the foot of the mountain, as she traveled the slopes of the Throat of the World, and now she stood at the very heart of Kynareth’s sacred domain, for the first time she felt at peace. Breathing came easier, the aching of her limbs subsided, and even the weight of memories seemed lighter on her heart.

“Teach me, then.”

The monks exchanged a glance, as Arngeir led her to the centre of the hall, where cracks and carvings overlapsed, covering the stone pavement in an intricate patern.

“Without training you have taken your first steps on the way of the Voice. Now let us see if you are able, and willing to learn. When you Shout”, he started explaining, “you speak in the language of dragons. Dragons have the inborn ability to learn and project their Voice. Language is intrinsic to their very being. There is no difference in the dragon tongue between debating and fighting. Shouting comes as naturally to a dragon as breathing, or speaking. Dragons also are able to absorb the power of their slain brethren. A few mortals are born with similar abilities - whether a gift or a curse has been a matter of debate down through the centuries. Some believe that Dragonborn are sent into the world by the gods, at times of great need. But we will speak more of that later, when you are ready.”, he added before she could ask further. “In the mean time, we will do our best to teach you how to use your gift in fulfilment of your destiny.”

She remained at the monastery for two days, practicing her Thu'um, honing her skills, meditating on the Way of the Voice, her place in Akatosh’s schemes, and whatever the Greybeards accepted to teach her.

“There is indeed much that we know that you do not.”, Arngeir admitted, when she questionned him, “That does not mean that you are ready to understand it. What you have already learned in a few days took even the most gifted of us years to achieve… You have shown that you are Dragonborn. You have the inborn gift. But do you have the discipline and temperament to follow the path laid out for you? You have been given this gift by the Gods for a reason, but d o not let your easy mastery of the Voice tempt you into arrogance of power. That has been the downfall of many before you.”

25 th of Last Seed – 4 E 201 – Windhelm – The Palace of the Kings

The courrier collapsed on one of the benches, out of breath, as Galmar Stone-Fist unsealed and read the message from their advanced post in the Rift. The general cocked a brow, and read again before he sent the messenger to the Bloodworks to rest, and headed to the war-room.

Frowning upon the map displaying their locations, Ulfric was planning on sending reinforcements to the three holds circling Windhelm.

Ten days had passed since that ambush at Darkwaters Crossing. A week since Helgen. Only days since he returned home, exhausted, wounded, escorted by half as many soldiers as expected… The end of what was meant to be a quiet travel to Riften and had become an awaken nightmare, filled with Imperial soldiers, Thalmor justiciars, and dragons.

“For Talos’ sake, Ulfric! You look like you’ve been dragged through Oblivion and back!”, the housecarl exclaimed upon the jarl’s arrival.

“I’m glad to see you too, my friend.”, Ulfric responded and collapsed on his throne.

His head in his hands, Ulfric told Galmar the whole story, from the ambush, Tullius’ plans to take him to Cyrodiil for a formal execution and how a broken axle forced them to change course to Helgen, the prensence of the Thalmor, both in the Rift and in Falkreath, the nameless mass grave dug in midst of Falkreath forest where the Imperials meant to bury them, and the dragon’s attack, dark wings unfurled and hellfire razing Helgen to the ground.

“However they got word of your journey to the Rift, if there are traitors amongst our ranks, we’ll find out.”, he assured Ulfric, his mind set on bringing the traitors to justice, but beyond that he knew what the jarl was really concerned about. “A dragon…”, he whispered.

“The harbingers of the End of Times…”, the jarl muttered. “Is that it, my friend… Have we gone too far? Is it time?”

Galmar walked to his friend, concerned.

"Are you alright, Ulfric?”

“No.”, the jarl answered truthfully. “But I will be… I must.”

That was five days ago.

Ulfric had fully recovered from his misadventure in Helgen. And here he was: the jarl of Windhelm, the very heart of the rebellion, ready to rule again, to fight again.

Galmar cleared his throat in order to draw his friend’s attention.

“What is it, Galmar?”, the jarl asked still starring at the camps on the map.

“A message from Gonnar Oath-Giver.”

“Has something happened in the Rift?”

“It appears the Dragonborn has been seen. A patrol has made contact on the twenty third, and the guards of Ivarstead confirm her arrival at the village, to climb the Seven Thousand steps.”

“Her?”, the jarl repeated.

“Gonnar couldn’t send much of a description but according to his men, the Dragonborn is a young woman. Not the warrior type – the men describe her as wearing novice robes.”

Ulfric let out a snort and smiled. A young mage called to arms to defend Skyrim against her foes, and stand as a ward against evil. The Gods had a weird sense of humor when it came to choosing their Champions.

“She left the temple the day after.”, Galmar kept reporting. “Heading to Whiterun.”

Ulfric said nothing for a second then took the note and read it through.

“Send the word to every camp, and to our allies in Whiterun - if she has taken residence in Balgruuf’s city, the Greymanes must know. I want weekly reports on her moves and her whereabouts. Treat her as a potential ally, but avoid direct contact as long as her allegiance remains unsure.”

The bear nodded and left the room.

Ulfric read the whole letter again and left the paper on the corner of the table before he headed back to work. The jarl found himself humming a tune that brought him both hope and uncertainty.

'Our hero, our hero claims a warrior’s heart,

I tell you, I tell you the Dragonborn comes.’

[melanie-writes-supernatural]

Professor Winchester (9)

A/N: OOOOHHHHHHHH This is like my favorite chapter of this series. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do! Drop me a message and let me know what you think!

Pairing: Professor!Sam Winchester X Reader

Warnings: HERE WE GO!!!!! Dom!Sam is finally making an appearance!! Also, a little bit of Sub!Reader while we’re at it… There’s some drinking of the alcohol in there too.

Word Count: 2800

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Want Dean Instead?

WEEK 9: THE BAR

"Oh, s-sorry," you stutter as you pull away from the looming figure you bumped into.

"No problem," the voice returns, and you grin as you take a chance to look him over.

And who should it be other than Professor Sam Winchester?

"O-Oh. Professor," you smile at him happily, nudging his shoulder. "I didn't know you drank."

"[Y/N]," he offers you a flirtatious grin, taking a sip of his whiskey. "I drink occasionally."

"Well," you exhale. "You look great right now, Sir."

He clears his throat, moving closer to you to block a man that was on his way advancing toward you.

"[Y/N], we've been over this. Professor or Sam," he corrects you. "Not Sir."

"You know, I was thinking about that," you cock your head to the side. "Why don't you like it? I know you told me before, but I think you were lying.”

A small smile quirks the edge of his lip as you chew on your bottom lip.

"And then I was thinking," you point at him, your finger hitting his chest a little under dead center. "What if you do like it? What if you're kinky? What if you like to be called Sir?"

All inhibitions are gone at this point. You don’t care. You’re following Tess’ advice and putting yourself out there. Nearly a week of being sick has made you realize how little time you actually have, and damn it if you’re gonna at least try.

"[Y/N], I find it intriguing that you've spent so much time thinking about this," he says coolly.

"There's always been something about you that I couldn't put my finger on," you tell him. "And now I know. You like to be called Sir. You're so kinky, Professor. Oh, I mean, Sir."

"[Y/N]," he hushes, his gaze darkening. "If I were you, I'd finish your drink and go home."

"Are you gonna make me, Sir?" you taunt, leaning closer to him.

"You're treading a dangerous line," he tells you, watching you cautiously as you stepped closer to him.

"I know," you return, slipping your fingers into his belt to pull him toward you. He doesn't move, and you bite your bottom lip. "I like dangerous things.”

The drinks have washed away all inhibitions. Fuck it, you tell yourself. Let’s see what happens.

"Hands off, little girl," he growls lowly, and your lips burst into a grin.

"I knew it," you breathe. "I knew it. You have a kink!"

His big hands circle your wrists and pull them away from his waist, his gaze looking up to the few people around them.

"[Y/N], it's in both of our best interest for you to stop," he says quietly.

"Why? Are you embarrassed?" you sing, a cheesy grin on your lips. "Kinky, but only on the downlow. You could totally write a book. Be the new Fifty Shades."

"Okay," he shakes his head, taking your hand to lead you off the dance floor and toward the bar. He gets the bartender's attention with a lift of a hand. "She needs a water. She's cut off."

The bartender nods, pulling out a glass and filling it with water before placing it in front of you.

"I'm not drunk," you remark. "Just tipsy. You didn't have to get me water."

"Drink your water. Now," he says quietly, and you shoot him a look as you place the glass to your lips and take a sip.

"So bossy," you mumble, shaking your head. This was a good sign, right? Him taking care of you was good, right?

"I'm only bossy because you pissed me off, little girl," he breathes, and you shiver happily at the name. "Where are your keys?"

"They're in my pocket," you tell him, smirking up at him. "You gonna go looking through my pockets, Sir?"

"I'm making sure you're not driving yourself home," he states as he holds out his hand. You stare at him for a few moments, watching his face darken. "Now, little girl."

A grin spreads across your lips as you reach into your pocket. You pull out your car and house keys and place them into his extended hand, sipping on your water.

"I'm going to give these to my brother, and he'll get your car home safely," Sam says quietly. "Don't move from this spot, little girl."

"I won't. Sir," you lean on the counter, watching him as he threaded through people in an attempt to find his brother.

A smile finds its way to your lips, and you swirl your water, listening to the clinking of ice in your glass.

This is going good so far. Maybe this was a good idea.

He comes back to you, his face set in an impassive expression, and he drops a few bills on the counter.

"For hers and my tabs," he says to the bartender, who nods and takes the money.

"I can pay for my own drinks," you mutter.

"I'm sure you can," he returns. "Let's go, you've had enough."

"Why? Cause I found out your dirty little secret? Sir," you tack on, slipping from the barstool and evening out your dress.

"Because I said you've had enough, [Y/N]," he grunts, taking your hand and leading you out of the bar.

"Are you taking me home? Because that's fucking hot," you state, flashing him a smile.

"There's a number of things I want to do to you right now," he breathes, opening a car door for you. "Get in and buckle in."

"Make me," you cross your arms over your chest.

"Little girl, you've been testing my patience," he presses you into the car, his hips pressed to yours. He lowers his lips close to your ear, his breath warm and making you shiver. "I don't think you realize how close you are to getting your cute little ass spanked."

"Ooh, you're gonna spank me?" you bite your bottom lip. "I've never tried that before. But I think I might like it."

He’s quiet. Did you go too far?

"I'm not going to do anything," he finally sighs. "No matter how much I want to. You've been drinking and can't properly consent."

"But what if I can?" you raise an eyebrow at him. "I can still say yes and no even if I've been drinking."

"Maybe after you've gotten some food and water in you, we'll talk," he suggests. "Now get in the car and buckle in."

"Yes Sir," you purr, and a small smile quirks at his lips.

He walks around the car to the driver's side, climbing in as you did so.

He watches you buckle your seat belt before looking over at him, flashing a smile.

It melts his world a little.

He turns the car on and puts it in reverse, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one is in his way.

You just watch him, looking at the curve of his jaw and the wave of his hair and the concentrated expression in his eyes.

He smirks as he catches your stare, and he moves a hand over to rest on your thigh as he drives.

You exhale happily, your cheeks lightly flushed as you looked out the window. Was this really happening right now? You can’t believe it.

"What are you thinking about, [Y/N]?" he asks after several long minutes of quiet.

"That some people would say this is wrong," you breathe. "But it doesn't feel wrong to me."

He exhales heavily, making a move to pull his hand away, but you quickly grab it and return it to your thigh.

"[Y/N], this is wrong," he states. "I don't know who I was trying to fool. This is wrong. I should take you home."

"No, please don't," you look up at him quickly. "It's not wrong. I'd feel different if it were wrong. I want this."

"[Y/N], you're one of my students," he says softly. "If that's not wrong, then I don't know what is."

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions. I can speak for my own actions, and I say that this isn't wrong," you tell him. "If I had gone to a different college, studied a different degree... I'd still be here tonight, regardless of if you were my professor or someone I bumped into while dancing."

"I know that, but the circumstances aren't different," he returns. "You are my student."

"It's not like it's illegal, just... Frowned upon," you protest. "And you're not much older than me. I don't get why it's so bad."

"[Y/N]," he sighs, squeezing your thigh gently. "It's just... if I have relations with a student, it'll get out that you could've influenced me to change your grades. You could've influenced me to move you into my class. None of it is true, but they could say things that would either get you kicked out or me fired."

"They don't have to know," you whisper. "I'm sure lots of other people do it."

"[Y/N]," he sighs, pulling into a driveway and parking. "I... I want to, I really do. But this is wrong."

You unbuckle your seatbelt and lean toward him, pressing your lips to his.

He doesn't respond at first, and you’re about to pull away when his hands move up to cup your face and hold you to him.

When he finally pulls away, you exhale softly, leaning your forehead to his.

"Does that feel wrong to you?" you whisper, looking to his soft hazel eyes.

He shakes his head slightly, and you move to straddle his waist, your eyes watching his.

"It feels perfect to me," you swallow, your heart racing in your chest.

There’s no turning back now. He knows how you feel, you have to see this through to the end. If you didn’t tell him now, would you have ever?

"Come on, let’s get inside and get you some food," he exhales.

"I'm okay, really," you say softly. "This conversation has been a little... Sobering."

"Just come inside and eat some damn food," he growls, opening his car door and stepping out while holding you easily in his big arms.

"Even if I'm not hungry?" you pout as he sets you down before linking his fingers through yours and walking to the front door.

"Yes, because I said so," he returns when you open your mouth to protest. "Here, the kitchen is this way. You can sit at the bar."

"So... Sam," you test, and he looks over his shoulder at you. He smiles slightly, and you bite your lip as butterflies burst in your stomach. "Um... Do you mind talking to me about some things?"

"No, it's not a full-time thing," he exhales as he sets a bowl of cereal in front of you. "It's a... When I feel in the mood thing."

"Oh," you respond. "So, like at the bar...?"

"You were hot and dancing in a dress that doesn't cover much. How can you not expect me to be in the mood?" he returns. "And the teasing, goddamn it."

"Did you like it?" you ask, taking a shy bite of food.

"If you were mine, you wouldn't have gotten away with saying or doing even a quarter of those things," his voice lowers. "Your ass would be fucking crimson."

"So you're really into the spanking thing?" you ask, eyebrows raised.

"Only if my little girl deserves it," he says slowly. "And trust me, you deserved it earlier."

"So um..." you trail off, suddenly shy. "I have a question about this... If it's not weird."

"Ask away, I'm sure you have more than one," he sits down on the barstool beside you.

"So... If we were to become a thing," you pause, watching his expression carefully. "Would this..." you gesture to him, "the... The Sir thing, for lack of a better word... Would this be every time we were intimate? Or just sometimes?"

"Most of the time," he says without hesitation, and you purse your lips slightly.

"So no... No like, making love or anything? It's always Sir stuff?" you ask, frowning. You didn’t mind a rough tumble in the sheets every once in a while, but you did like the soft touches and gentle kisses that came with making love.

"[Y/N], I'm a Dom," he explains gently. "That means I like having control of the situation. That doesn't mean that I can't make love. It just means that we do it on my terms."

"But what if I want to be on top or something?" you murmur your worries. "That won't happen?"

"Again, it means that we do it on my terms," he pats your knee gently. "It means that if you want to ride me, then feel free to ride me, but if I say 'Slower' then you go slower. If I tell you to play with yourself, then you play with yourself. You can do it, but if I tell you something about doing it, I expect it to be done."

"So I don't have any freedom to do what I want?" you whisper. "I mean, I know what I like, and what if that's not what you want?"

"It's about trusting me," he tells you. "It's about trusting that I can learn your body, and what you like. It's about trusting me to make you feel good, without having that responsibility yourself."

You’re quiet for a few moments, and he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

"We can talk about it more, I promise," he says. "We can make amendments to what I'm used to in the beginning, if that's what you want. I want this to work, but I don’t want you to do this if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Is this where you take me to your bedroom and tie me up to show me what I've been missing all my life?" you ask quietly, and a small smile cracks his lips.

"This isn't Fifty Shades, [Y/N]," he strokes your cheek. "This is, I take you to my room and we let the night figure out what is going to happen. Maybe, if you want to try some things, we can do that, but if you don't want to then we don't have to."

You nod at him, smiling to yourself as he gazed at you gently.

"I'd like that," you whisper. "But I have one request."

"Ask away," he returns, and you fidget with your fingers gently.

"Can you call me something other than little girl? It's nice, I like it, but I feel like I'm in trouble," you tell him with a small smile. "I mean... I feel like that's something I'd get called when I'm teasing and about to get in trouble, not an all-the-time thing."

He pauses for a moment, thinking.

"How do you feel about baby girl?" he asks, and your face brightens.

"I like that," you say, and he smiles at you.

"Good. Now come here, baby girl. I want to touch you," he says, hooking his fingers around your waist.

"I don't know why that's so hot, but it is," you breathe, cupping his face in your hands. "Is it bad that hearing that turns me on so much?"

"Is it bad that calling you baby girl turns me on so much?" he returns, raising an eyebrow. "Now, I believe I said to come here."

He pulls you so that you’re pressed against him, your breath leaving you in a gasp.

"I'll say this once, and once only. I hate repeating myself, baby girl," he whispers in your ear. "So don't make me. Am I clear?"

"Mhm," you breathe, and his hand curls in your hair tightly. Oh, good God, he feels so good.

"When I speak to you, you'll answer me with either a 'Yes, Sir' or a 'No, Sir' or the answer to my question. Is that clear?"

"Yes Sir," you whisper, and he smiles as he gazes down at you.

"You're such a fast learner," he praises, and you can't help the bubbly giggle that leaves your lips. "Oh, you like that?"

"Yes Sir," you answer him, batting your eyes. "It feels good to be praised."

"And you'll receive praises whenever you deserve them, baby girl," he states, tapping your nose. "So just be good for me, okay?"

"I will," you answer him. “Sam?”

“Yes, baby girl?” he murmurs, his gaze softening as he looked at you.

“Will you take me to your room now?”

“Do you want me to, Baby Girl?” he returns, cocking his head to the side some.

He’s giving you an out, in case you’re having any second thoughts about this.

You find none.

“Yes, Sir,” you nod, and he sweeps you into his arms, letting your legs wrap around his waist.

“Then let’s have some fun.”

~

Tell me what you thought!

~

Forevers: @dslocum89 @thesupernaturalmoose1967 @queencflair @sisterwinchesterwriter @timidnefelibata @ria132love

Series Tags: @reidreader @zombiewerewolfqueen @greieba @stevieboyharrington @smutty-dcs @ragweed98 @hey-um-misha

[jaeminlore]

Perfect // Park Jinwoo

-

the prompt: could I get a jinjin scenario based on Perfect by Ed Sheeran or Paris by The Chainsmokers?

words: 3444

category: song rec + fluff

author note: this one took a rlly long time I never thought I’d get it done. but I like it and i hope you guys do too!

- destinee

-

I found a love for me. Darling, just dive right in and follow my lead.

He was ten years old, and you were nine. He had somehow convinced you to climb the biggest tree in the neighborhood.

They called it Old Man Maple, mostly because of its age, along with the gnarls and notches that made it look like it had the face of an old man.

Jinwoo was the first to climb, obviously. He was the first to do everything. While you were more anxious, Jinwoo was impulsive. You both were adventurous, and it was Jinwoo who always found the places where you two would play.

“C'mon, Y/n!” He called down to you.

You were still on the grass, in your rain boots and your father’s ball cap. Your arms were crossed over your chest and your eyes were squinted as you struggled to look at the tree with the sun blazing down on you. “Are you sure I won’t fall?”

“Darling, you’ll be fine.” Jinwoo felt pride in his young heart when he spoke those words.

You always asked him if it was safe.

Are you sure I won’t drown? I you sure I won’t trip? Are you sure we’ll be home in time?

Whatever it was, as long as Jinwoo assured you of the positive outcome, you were able to confidently follow him no matter what he decided to do.

However, you had noticed a new word slip from his mouth. A new nickname. “Darling? What’s that?”

Jinwoo shrugged from the branch he was crouched upon. “My dad calls my mom Darling, so I thought you should be Darling too.”

“What does it mean?” You asked as you held on to the lowest limb and hoisted yourself up.

Jinwoo held out his hand to help you, even though you were at least four branches under him. As you struggled to climb towards him, he answered.

“I think it means favorite. Since Mom is Dad’s favorite.”

“So I’m your favorite?” You giggled childishly.

You had reached him now, so you grabbed his hand and used it to get you to the branch he was on.

The two of you sat side by side, swinging your feet back and forth in the air. You made a game of throwing small sticks and leaves to the ground, to see whose could reach the ground first.

Jinwoo thought about your previously unanswered question.

You were his favorite, he just wondered why.

-

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet. Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me.

On your thirteenth birthday, your mom threw you a birthday party. She even bought you a dress in your favorite color: bright yellow.

With your hair curled and your mother’s strawberry lipgloss on your lips, you felt like a princess.

When the doorbell rang, you ran barefoot towards the door and threw it open.

Your mother followed you, shouting exasperatedly, “Y/n! Where is your sense? Don’t just open the door.”

You ignored her, having already seen Jinwoo and and his mother. “Jinjin!”

You attacked your closest friend in a hug, ignoring your mom as she greeted Jinwoo’s mom.

When you released the boy, you twirled around, feeling your dress drift behind you. “Look at me!”

You laughed, feeling completely grown up and happy now that your best friend was here.

Jinjin felt his cheeks heat up. The innocence you portrayed was there, but added to it was something else. You looked graceful. You looked sweet. You looked beautiful.

Jinwoo wasn’t sure if it was love in that movement. He had always loved you, but being in love was an experience the fourteen year old had never known.

He could just assume that he saw you in a different light. Instead of a young girl, and his best friend, you became a young lady, and his crush.

-

‘Cause we were just kids when we fell in love. Not knowing what it was. I will not give you up this time.

It was only a year later, and the two of you had escaped from the constant nagging of your mothers to go play on the playground.

Jinwoo took to pushing you on the swings, wanting to see how high he could push you.

Apparently, he could push you higher than he thought. Since you weren’t holding on properly, you fell out of the swing and onto the cold grass.

“Ow!” You clenced your teeth and held onto your ankle, hoping not to cry in front of Jinwoo.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry!” Jinwoo ran and sat beside you. You allowed him to bend your ankle slowly, just to try and see if it was broken.

“Jinjin,” you said softly. “It hurts.”

“I know,” he replied, looking hurt himself. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you tried to smile even though your entire foot felt numb. “I wasn’t holding on properly.”

Jinwoo stood up and offered you his hand. “It doesn’t look broken. I’ll help you back to your house so you can rest.”

“Thanks, Jinjin,” you said. You grabbed his hand and used your good ankle to push yourself up.

Jinwoo wrapped your arm around his shoulders and secured his arm around your waist. “Just tell me if I need to go slower.”

The two of you hobbled along. Luckily, your house wasn’t too far from the playground.

Once inside the house, and in your bedroom, Jinwoo helped you get onto your bed. Then he took an extra pillow and set it under your foot. “I’ll go get ice.”

Once he disappeared, you fanned your cheeks. You were sure they were red by now, thanks to Jinwoo’s chivalrous actions.

Jinwoo soon retuned, a bag of ice in his hand, wrapped in a towel. “Here,” he placed it over your ankle gently, so as not to hurt you any more. “Do you want any pain medicine?”

You smiled. “I’ll just try to sleep it off until my mom gets home.”

Jinwoo nodded. Looking awkwardly around you room, he spoke again. “I guess I’ll go now.”

“Wait!” You said. “I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Jinwoo turned around.

“It’s a secret so I have to whisper to you,” you said.

Without question, Jinwoo walked up to you and turned his head so that you had access to his ear.

Only, instead of telling him a secret, you kissed his cheek.

He jumped at the contact, red creeping up his neck. “What was that for?”

“Just saying thanks,” you answered.

Of course it was more than a thanks, but neither of you really understood it at the time. Too young to properly know what love was, but not too young to feel it.

-

You were seventeen. Throughout highschool, you and Jinwoo had struggled to stay friends.

He was on the dance team, and there he had found a small group of boys to befriend. You were in theatre, struggling to become a junior director.

Still, no matter what, the two of you made time to see each other.

Jinwoo’s friends teased him all the time about you. They wondered why he hadn’t asked you out yet.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if you liked him, and he didn’t have the courage to ask you. Your friendship was everything to him, so every day was an inward struggle to act on his feelings or to keep things the same.

When he had to graduate high school, he figured it would be the time to tell you. He would be going off to college, and if he needed to tell you his true feelings before you found someone else.

He was nervous throughout the entire ceremony. He, of course, had no idea what to say to you.

He had known you all his life. You knew all of his deepest secrets, and yet he couldn’t seem to let you in on this one.

Each of the boys had given him tips and advice on how to confess to you. Truthfully, Jinwoo didn’t want to do anything gaudy like flowers or chocolates. He just wanted to be honest with you and get your feedback.

It didn’t help that you had come to the ceremony in a short dress, the same bright yellow you had worn just a few years ago.

Only now, you looked even older. You were still Y/n, though. Jinwoo found comfort in that fact. That your eyes had never lost their innocence and your smile had never once dropped.

Jinwoo was so busy looking at you he nearly missed his name being called. After accepting his diploma, he could feel his palms getting clammy. Only a few minutes now. Then the two of you would be alone, and he would tell you what had been bothering him the whole day.

His plan didn’t go through very well. Turns out, you and his friends had put together a surprise party for him and the other graduates.

The party took place in Minhyuk’s house, since he had the biggest home and backyard.

The music was too loud for you, so you hid in Minhyuk’s room.

You were in the process of turning his Xbox on when Jinwoo entered. “There you are,” he stated.

You threw a controller at him, which he caught. “Left 4 Dead?”

“Sure.” He was avoiding his task, sure, but how could he say no to you?

He wasn’t sure he wanted to confess to you in Minhyuk’s room anyhow.

After playing the video game the entire way through, you felt your eyelids get heavy.

Jinwoo must’ve noticed. He turned off the gaming device and stood up. “C'mon, Darling. Let’s get you home.”

The two of you left after thanking Minhyuk and telling him goodbye.

“You haven’t called me that since we were kids,” you mumbled sleepily as Jinwoo buckled your seatbelt. “I was beginning to think I wasn’t your favorite.”

You sent Jinwoo a soft smirk, and he laughed softly, shaking his head.

He went around to his side and climbed in, starting the car and preparing to leave. “You’ve always been my favorite, Y/n.”

You snuggled into the passenger seat that smelt like Jinwoo. “I’m glad, Jinjin, because you’re still my favorite as well.”

Jinwoo was silent after that. His mind was reeling with what ifs.

What if that was your confession? What if it wasn’t and you were just showing your platonic love for him? What if he was fooling himself and you didn’t even like him as a friend?

The last one was probably a stretch, but Jinwoo’s anxiety was too high for him to think properly.

He parked the car in your driveway. “We’re here,” he said, reaching over to shake you awake.

You blinked and unbuckled your seatbelt, pushing it away from your body as you held in a yawn. “Walk me up?”

As the two of you walked towards your porch, you looked at him. “Why have you been so nervous tonight? Is it just jitters from your graduation?”

“No,” he said.

By this time, the two of you were already in front of your door. Jinwoo’s words kept you from entering your house. “What’s wrong, then?”

Jinwoo looked down. “Y/n, you know I love you, right?”

Your gaze softened. “Jinwoo, of course I do. Are you worried we won’t be friends once you go to college?”

“No, I mean,” Jinwoo grabbed your hand and began to play with your fingers to help ease his nerves. “I love you. Like, I’m in love with you. I have been since I was like twelve or something.”

A blush grew on your cheeks and you bit your lip to keep from smiling too much. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve loved you since that time you helped me with my ankle, if you can remember,” you confessed.

Jinwoo looked up, his own face breaking into a look of relief. “I remember. You kissed my cheek.”

“I did,” you laughed bashfully.

Since Jinwoo was always the more impulsive one, it only made sense that he would step closer and dip his head down, ready to kiss you.

Only, since you were the anxious one, you stopped him just centimeters before his lips touched yours. “Kiss me slow, okay? I’ve never done this before.”

“Me neither. You’re the only one.” Jinwoo said. “I’ll kiss you slowly.”

He brought his hands up and cupped your face, connecting your lips. A sigh of relief immediately escaped his lips, as if he had been waited for this kiss his entire life.

Your hands clutched the sides of his tux as he kissed you. It wasn’t a deep kiss, as neither of you were very experienced. But the emotions were all the same as the two of you moved your lips in sync.

Jinwoo stopped kissing your lips and lifted his head to press a kiss to your forehead. “Darling, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

-

Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know. She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I’ll share her home. I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets, to carry love, to carry children of our own.

Near the end of your senior year, Jinwoo invited you to his apartment to have a movie night.

Of course you accepted. Your schoolwork was stressing you out, and you thought it would be nice to try and forget your stress by spending some time with your boyfriend.

On that day in particular, you had a worse day than usual. Everything that could’ve gone wrong went wrong, and you wished to curl into Jinwoo’s arms and forget the world for a bit.

All of the colleges you had applied to hadn’t accepted you, you had gotten a poor grade on your previous math exam, and your mother was nagging you to work harder. You were also awaiting a call from Jinwoo’s university to see if you had been accepted there, and you were worried that wouldn’t work out.

When Jinwoo let you into his apartment, you walked passed him and flopped down onto the sofa.

“What’s wrong?” Jinwoo could tell immediately that something wasn’t right. Your usual chipper attitude was out the door, replaced by a depressing mood.

“Nothing,” you lied. “What movie should we watch?”

Jinwoo stuck a movie in, but you didn’t pay much attention to it. You were too busy thinking about the future.

When your phone rang, you paused the movie and pressed the answer button.

Jinwoo’s watched as you talked to whoever was on the phone. “Yes, this is she…Yes, Ma'am…I understand…Thank you anyway.”

When you hung up the phone, you couldn’t help but let a few tears fall down your face.

“Y/n, who was that?” Jinwoo reached forward and wiped the tears from your eyes.

“That was your university rejecting my application,” you said. “Jinjin, I’ve worked hard and I’ve been trying my best but I can’t seem to be good enough. Why?”

Jinwoo pulled you into his lap, holding you close as you continued ranting to him. “I feel so weak right now. I’m so stressed that one thing goes wrong and now I’m blubbering like a baby. You must think I’m being so stupid.”

“No, I don’t.” Jinwoo twirled your hair between his fingertips. “You’re the strongest person I know, Y/n, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get stressed. You’re human, too. It’s okay to cry sometimes. It’s good for you.”

You stayed silent, struggling to find the words to say.

Jinwoo seemed to sense your vulnerability, and so he decided to tell you a secret of his own. “You know, I think about our future all the time, too.”

“You do? Is it stressful?”

“I don’t think about the stressful parts,” Jinwoo said. “I think about the parts that calm me down. Like us getting married and having children, and you being beside me for the rest of my life. Things like that calm me down when I’m too stressed to go forward.”

You reached up and kissed Jinwoo’s cheek. “You always know what to say. I love you.”

-

We are still kids, but we’re so in love, fighting against all odds. I know we’ll be alright this time. Darling, just hold my hand; be my girl, I’ll be your man. I see my future in your eyes.

“I just don’t think you and Jinwoo should be this close,” your mother said during lunch one day.

She had taken you out to your favorite cafe, and you thought she just wanted to spend some time with you. Now you could see she was buttering you up.

“Mom, we’ve been friends since elementary school. You know Jinwoo.”

“I’m not saying you should break up,” your mom said. “I just think you should slow down. Remember your school comes first. Relationships come second.”

“Not to be disrespectful,” you began, “but Jinwoo is much more important to me than my college degree.”

“You need to slow down. That kind of thinking will get you hurt once the two of you separate.”

You looked at your mom, confused. “You think we’re going to break up?”

“Eventually. Everyone who doesn’t get married breaks up. Just be sure to dump him before he dumps you.”

You stood up in anger, “What if we do get married?”

You mother laughed, “Do you honestly think you’re going to marry your first love? Honey, that only happens in the movies.”

“I think I lost my appetite,” you said. “Goodbye, Mom.”

As you left, you failed to notice Jinwoo and Eunwoo sitting a few tables away.

They heard everything.

Jinwoo excused himself and chased you outside. He grabbed your hand, surprising you.

“Oh, Jinjin,” you said. “Where did you come from?”

“I was in the cafe. I heard everything,” he admitted.

“Oh.” You wondered if you made him uncomfortable.

“Thanks for sticking up for me back there,” Jinwoo said. “It means a lot to me.”

“Do you think she was right? Do you think we’ll break up?” You voiced your concern.

Jinwoo looked at you, “Darling, I only see the future when I look at you. There is no way I’d ever let you go. Unless you wanted it, of course.”

“I don’t want it!” You protested.

“Good,” Jinwoo said, bumping his shoulder against yours. “Then we’re good.”

-

Baby, I’m dancing in the dark, with you between my arms. Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song. When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful: I don’t deserve this, darling, you look perfect tonight. I have faith in what I see. Now I know I have met an angel in person and she looks perfect. I don’t deserve this. You look perfect tonight.

The night of his college graduation, you dressed more sophisticated in a medium-length black dress and high heeled pumps.

During the after party, you could barely contain your discomfort, so while everyone was having fun, you escaped to the backyard.

There, you could discard your heels and feel the cool grass between your toes.

Alone with the moon, you twirled around and danced to your own beat, feeling the soft night breeze on your bare shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Jinwoo’s voice scared you.

You jumped and glared at your boyfriend. “What does it looks like I’m doing? I’m dancing.”

“Can I dance with you?” He asked.

You gladly agreed, bounding over to him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “But you have to take off your shoes, too, so it won’t hurt if you step on me.”

Jinwoo stepped back and pulled off his shoes and socks, tossing them over towards your heels.

He held your waist and pulled you close enough to him that your bodies were pressed together.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” Jinwoo asked.

Honestly, seeing you dance around on your own had caused his heart to stop beating for a moment.

As you twirled, he saw the thirteen year old at her birthday party. He saw everything you had been to him.

He saw your innocence and love for life.

Only then did he have to intervene. He wanted to be part of your life.

He needed to be part of your life.

“I really don’t deserve you,” he continued on, not letting you reply.

He pressed a quick kiss to your temple and spun you around.

“I could say the same,” you said.

Jinwoo shook his head. “No, you can’t. I really don’t deserve you.”

“Jinjin…” you started, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

Jinwoo smiled, “Darling, you look perfect tonight.”

~the end~