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fitzs-trained-monkey · 2 years ago

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Ten Minute Blood Stain Removal

Requested by: @princess-charming-01 Your support means the world to me so I hope this lives up to your expectations. Keep being awesome, bestie!

Word Count: 11,000

Warnings: Some language, quite a few insults, ableism bashing, Kol being super sweet, and Bekah being the best friend ever

Summary: Rebekah was a good friend to you - the best, really. Klaus, well the two of you were by no means close but he trusted you and that was enough. Elijah always made sure you were paid well, which you appreciated. As for Kol? Well, you'd never met the guy and you didn't want to. You had enough problems in your life without a raging hedonist to upend your convictions. || Kol x reader || Here lies my Masterlist ||

Story Begins Below

Working as a housekeeper for the Mikaelson family was an… interesting profession to say the least. Although, when listening to your friends complain about how miserable their jobs were, at the very least you could claim that you never got bored at work. They always asked how that was possible, especially in your chosen profession, but they'd never believe you. Though, of course, that wouldn't matter anyway. It wasn't as if you could tell them why…

Not that you were complaining! Whining about your situation had never been your style, and your situation really wasn't bad.

Really.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't ideal, but this was New Orleans. There were plenty of jobs far, far worse in places infinitely less savory than the French Quarter. Honestly, you should have been more grateful. You hadn't exactly been raised in the best of districts so you were beyond lucky to get a private contract with such a prestigious estate and benefits-wise, you were living the dream. The members of the Mikaelson family were pretty chill (in a manner of speaking) for rich people, all things considered; the wages they paid you were generous, and the hours were reasonable, with a plentiful number of paid vacation days supplied (sometimes spontaneously with little to no warning). The job really only had one downside. But that was just it because, well…

Being employed by 4 original vampires is one hell of a downside.

That one big whopper of a workplace hazard also came with quite a few subsequent inconveniences but you were used to it by now. Fortunately, walking in on a pile of corpses is a thing that gets easier over time. Hell, after your 23rd stack of cadavers, you even stopped throwing up!

Admittedly, now that you looked back on it, the experience that was your discovery of the supernatural could have been a lot worse. You were lucky that only Rebekah was home at the time and that she was feeling a need for feminine companionship. You liked Rebekah. She was more emotionally conscious than Klaus or Elijah and you were grateful she had the patience and kindness to calm your hysterics before gently telling you what the hell was going on. Rebekah also had the decency to apologize when she explained the concept of compulsion to you and why she had to ensure your silence regarding the truth. It was for both your safety and theirs that you kept your mouth shut. You recognized that you didn’t really have a choice in the matter, but you appreciated that she presented it as if you did. After she finished, you felt alright enough to ask her - in all caution, if she would restrict your free will as little as possible. You didn’t want to end up like the other staff members who acted like little more than drones.

She agreed, admitting that it would be nice to have a friend around rather than another robot. Thus, she only compelled you not to reveal your knowledge of the supernatural to anyone outside the compound. Your emotions and mind remained your own and you counted yourself lucky. Had it been one of her brothers instead, you probably would have become another blood bag (Klaus) or a zombie (Elijah).

Though, you weren’t sure what Kol would have done. Rebekah's third brother hadn't been around much since you'd started working so you didn't really know him. You had only ever seen the guy once or twice and only in passing. Kol didn't pay you a lick of attention and you didn't exactly want him to either. Judging from the blonde vampire's description of her most troublesome sibling, he sounded… spontaneous at best and downright volatile at worst. You didn't need any more of that in your life - that was what your best friend was for. Rebekah was enough for you.

How the two of you became friends is a mystery you didn't think you would ever solve. She was just so much more than you would ever be - so much more interesting and beautiful and capable. Why she actively chose to spend her time with you was beyond your understanding. But the two of you had fun together and her vampiric nature didn't bother you as much as it should have. Besides, being friends with an original vampire did have its perks. Bekah was always there to look out for you - protect you - even from her brothers.

"Here comes the weekend!" You cheered, crossing one of the compound's many lounges on a particularly pleasant Louisiana afternoon, practically skipping as you went. Not including this space, you had one more room to clean. ONE MORE and then you were off!

Rebekah, who happened to be lounging on a sofa, immersed in her phone, glanced up, slightly baffled and significantly unimpressed.

"I hate to break this to you, but tomorrow's Thursday, lovely," She said gently.

"I don't care, it's my weekend!" You exclaimed, still cheering the words, fists raised high in the air.

She thought about that for a moment. "Touché. I suppose it is." Rebekah nodded. “Can’t believe it’s already Wednesday though. I swear it was Saturday just five minutes ago.”

“Oh yeah, and yesterday was June,” You teased. It was actually the middle of January but you’d discovered that vampires just had a really hard time keeping track of dates. Of the three vampires you thought you knew somewhat well, none of them could measure time for shit. Elijah was the best but even he had the annoying tendency to reference the fourteen hundreds like they were last week.

Rebekah just grinned and tapped her nose. “See? Now you’re getting it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Speak for yourself, blondie. This week’s been dragging on forever.” (You were proud to say that you were the only human alive who could call that girl “Blondie” and live to tell the tale.)

“Eh. You don’t know the first thing about forever,” She quipped, waving her hand dismissively, distracted once again by something on her phone. You just shook your head and chuckled, pulling out a cloth and some furniture polish as you got to work on the side table next to her. She absentmindedly lifted a potted plant off the wood so you could clean underneath.

Watching her do things like that still weirded you out. Held in a hand-crafted ceramic vase that you were pretty sure was an antique, it wasn’t as if that plant was some small succulent. The thing was a healthy bird of paradise shrub as long as your arm. Altogether, the decoration must have weighed thirty or so pounds (and cost more than your college tuition) yet Rebekah pinched the rim between two fingers and picked it up as if it were a feather. You finished polishing the table and moved on. Behind you, your friend dragged her eyes from her phone again and a frown curled her lips as she pushed herself to sit up. You didn’t have to look at her to know she was regarding you with a critical eye - it was only friendly though.

"You know, Y/N, if I didn't know better, I'd think you hated your job," She declared after a moment.

You tossed her a smirk over your shoulder as you dusted the mantlepiece. "I do hate my job."

"Oh, come off it!" She scoffed. "It's not as if we torture you!"

You turned around slowly, raising a brow. "Bex, your brother is literally painting with the blood of his enemies again.”

"Oh, bloody hell. Not again."

"Yes. Again. I swear, you walk into that studio and it's like somebody handed a toddler some suspicious lookin' finger paint!” You exclaimed, tossing your hands in the air. “And do ya know who has to clean up after him?"

"You?" She guessed timidly, her expression sympathetic.

"Ding! Ding! Ding!" You groaned, rolling your eyes as you put the last ornament back on the mantle. "If that's not the definition of torture then I don't know what is." You crossed the room to a door at the far end of the lounge, the one that led to your final room for the day. As you reached out to turn the handle, Rebekah's voice called you to a halt.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," She warned nonchalantly. You sighed deeply.

"Do I even want to know?"

"I doubt it."

"Figures, who was it?" You demanded. "Which pair of eyes do I need to spray some Windex into?"

The girl furrowed her brow, confused. "Did no one tell you?"

"Did no one tell me what?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest uncomfortably. You didn't like feeling uninformed.

"Kol's come back," She sighed, tone somewhat grim. "That's his handiwork in there. I counted twenty-two, you're welcome."

"Twenty two bodies?"

"Yup."

You pursed your lips into a line. No. Just, no.

"Yeah, not today Satan," You said with a dry grimace. "YO! GERRETTA!" The older maid wouldn't mind. You didn't think she could mind as you were pretty sure she'd already had a stroke and the only thing keeping her going was Klaus' compulsion. Either she’d clean up the ghastly mess in the room beyond or another one of the zombie staff would. If she responded to your yelling, you didn’t hear it. That was no surprise, however. Your hearing aids were good but they weren’t that good.

You glanced at the blonde girl expectantly and Rebekah spoke up. “Yes, she heard you.”

You nodded to her and called to the maid again. “GERRETTA, THE HALL OFF OF THE SECOND UPSTAIRS LOUNGE NEEDS SOME TLC!” You cast your eyes on your friend again.

“She says she’ll send Sofie up to take care of it,” The girl relayed. You thanked her with a thumbs up.

That was another thing you loved about her. Bekah had never thought of you as broken or in need of charity. To her, you were just like anyone else and deserved just as much consideration. She’d even asked you to teach her ASL, though she mostly used it to insult her brothers.

“Which one’s Sophie again?” She asked, squinting as if trying to remember but you doubted she had ever bothered to learn the staff’s names in the first place. You couldn’t exactly blame her - Sophie was another one of the zombies.

“Uh… Red hair? Nose piercing?”

“Oh, yeah…” Your friend mused absently. “I think she’s the one Kol likes…”

Your eyes widened and you swallowed harshly. For some reason, you doubted that it was your fellow maid’s personality that Rebekah’s brother had a fondness for. You liked Sophie, she was your friend… sort of. The family’s compulsion over its staff members was rendered entirely latent when the individuals left the compound - they were themselves again, just without any memory of the supernatural. They were all really great people, actually. Sophie was close to your own age; you had hung out with her a few times around the quarter. She was nice.

You desperately hoped that her blood wouldn’t be the next stain you had to remove from the upholstery.

You shook away the chill that dripped down your spine, jabbing your thumb towards that door and raising a brow as you faced Bekah again. "So, I take it somebody had a bad day?"

"No, actually that's the product of a good day, believe it or not," She mused, lips tight.

You didn’t know Kol - not really - and you weren’t typically one to judge others. However, while the Mikaelsons would usually dispose of the corpses themselves, blood stains were still miserable to remove from furniture. Not to mention the stench caused by internal organs spontaneously becoming external organs was almost harder to purge from a room than skunk spray. So sure, you didn’t know Kol, but he was setting quite the pretense with his behavior, and anything that served to make your job unnecessarily difficult didn’t exactly lend itself to improving your opinion of him.

"Yeah, your family sucks.” You huffed. “No offense."

"None taken."

"Good.

"Good."

"Guess that means I'm done for the day," You announced, trying to remain bright despite the looming sense of dread beginning to build in the back of your mind. Luckily, you were pretty good at ignoring your problems.

“Excellent! Now you can help me!” The girl smirked and patted the spot on the couch beside her. You faked a miserable groan as you moved to sit and she flipped her phone around, allowing you a glimpse at the beautiful deep green dress displayed on the screen. “What do you think about this?” She asked.

The article of clothing looked like it had to cost more than your entire apartment complex and you wondered if you would ever get used to the Mikaelsons and their ungodly wealth - or any aspect of them at all, for that matter. You probably wouldn’t.

“That would look gorgeous on you, Bex.” You hummed, smiling. “But then again, everything does so that’s not saying too much.”

It was very telling that, despite being infinitely older and more powerful than you, she still sought your opinion on clothes and looks. You often thought that Bekah wasn’t really one-thousand years old - rather, she’d just been seventeen one-thousand times. Because, although she snickered about it, waving you off, you could see a slight blush coloring her cheeks. Casual compliments did little to impress her, but honest ones always warmed her heart. So you gave them as often as you could.

“Its a blessing and a curse,” She hummed. “But, no, I was actually thinking for you, love.”

“Oh.” Your brows must have shot to the ceiling. “Well in that case, I wouldn’t be caught dead in it and it’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever laid eyes upon.”

“Alright.” Rebekah shrugged, going back to scrolling. “I suppose I’ll simply have to find you something more expensive.”

“Wha- No! I can’t- Why would you- That’s insane! No!” You stammered, reeling with shock.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. This one’s really not that much,” The blonde scoffed.

“I saw the price tag,” You said, crossing your arms. “It’s like thirty thousand dollars.”

Though the girl kept talking as if she hadn’t heard you say that. “The jewels are only costume-”

“Glass may not be diamond but it ain’t plastic either.”

“The fur on the collar is synthetic-”

“Why is that a bad thing? Who are you - Cruella DeVill?”

“I’m looking at the sheer on it-”

“The what?”

“The see through layer covering the actual dress.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, anyway that part looks like organdy to me, so it’s not like its muslin or anything.”

“I may not know what either of those things are, but both of them sound more expensive than brain surgery.” You shot her a meaningful look that was supposed to be stern. As if you could chastise a one-thousand-year-old fashionista. “You can’t make any of this sound cheap.”

“Honeslty, Y/N! It’s not even made of silk!”

“Oh yeah?” You raised a brow, challengingly. “What’s it made of then?”

She licked her lips. “Cashmere.” You narrowed your eyes and pulled out your phone, laying back so she couldn’t see what you were doing. Google was your ally when dealing with Rebekah. “What is it? What are you looking at?” She demanded, craning her neck in an attempt to glimpse the screen. You didn’t respond and just leaned further away. A moment later, you flicked your eyes to meet her’s over the top of your phone.

“You do realize how that’s not better, right?” You criticized, giving her a flat look.

“It is if you have sense,” She mumbled, though not so softly that you couldn't hear. You appreciated that. It always made you insecure when you couldn’t hear what another person was saying about you, especially when that person claimed to be your friend. You’d been burned before by fake nice girls, but Bekah was different. She was the most genuine person you’d ever met.

You snorted, stretching out. “Dude, you’re talking to someone who’s definition of splurging is dinner at Applebee’s followed by a DQ shake.”

“Alright, it’s official: You’re impossible.” She huffed, tossing her phone onto an armchair across the room.

“I’m impossible?” You questioned.

“You’re the only person I know who would rather wear a bloody polyester t-shirt than a cashmere dress!” The blonde girl rubbed her temples, feigning exasperation.

“I fail to see how that’s a problem.”

“And that in itself is the problem.”

“No it’s not!”

Bekah turned to watch you and her expression grew somewhat weary. You regarded her curiously and a few heartbeats passed before she spoke again. “You know, I honestly sometimes wonder how we’re friends,” She said, sounding more than a little morose. “You must think me so shallow.”

“You’re not shallow,” You started. She shot you a doubtful look and you rolled your eyes, tossing an arm around her shoulder. Insecurities are the worst so you hugged her tight. “Seriously, Bex. You’re not. You’re a person, and I don’t think people can be defined by some callused label we slap on them to explain a few behaviors. Sure, you can be blunt, but it’s only honest and I like that about you. Sure, you like dresses and makeup and all those sorts of things, but that doesn’t make you vain. You find beauty in the things around you and in yourself. Gotta be honest, I’m a little jealous of that.”

She smiled softly, shaking her head but she didn’t meet your eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

“You know me, Bex. You know I don’t just say things for the hell of it.” You stooped down to meet her gaze, forcing her to look at you. “I’m not gonna say that you’re reserved or something because you’re not. You’re easily the least frugal person I know, but that doesn’t make you conceited. I mean, you pass hundred dollar bills to every street musician you pass and I think back to just last month; the day before Christmas Eve, you went out and bought dinners for every homeless person on the streets of the French Quarter - just because you could. That doesn’t sound too shallow to me.”

You smiled gently and she returned it.

“Thanks, Y/N/N.”

“You’re welcome,” You said. “It’s still a no on the dress though.”

The blonde girl gave a slight chuckle, faking a pout. “Why not?”

You sent her an incredulous look and leaned back on the couch, closing your eyes. “Be honest with yourself, girl. Where, when, and why the hell would I ever need to wear something like that?”

“My family is holding a winter gala here in about a week or so. You could wear it there.” She suggested.

“Things like that are only fun if you have a date,” You pointed out.

“Those are rather easy to come by, so I’ve heard,” Bekah sang, nudging your shoulder.

You snorted. “For you maybe. You’re gorgeous, rich, fun, and you like people.”

The girl made a rather unladylike noise in rebuff. “Come on, love. You know its time you start putting yourself out there.”

“Do I know that?” You mused.

“Yes.”

“Well that’s a surprise, considering the magic eight ball I asked yesterday said Hell No.”

“Hell No isn’t even an answer on one of those things,” She insisted.

“Then it must have really meant it.”

“Why are you so against trying to find someone?” She wondered, sitting up to watch your expression.

You smirked. “Because relationships are icky, and boys have cooties.”

The girl smacked your knee lightly. “That’s not true, and you know it. You just have to find the right one,” She said.

“I already have,” You pouted childishly.

“Yes, but I’m taken and Sean Connery is dead,” She quipped without missing a beat.

You tapped your heart. “Not in here he’s not.”

Rebekah groaned, tossing her head back in defeat. “You really are impossible.”

“Then give up on me.”

“Any sane person would,” She said. “But unfortunately for you, I believe in love.”

“Ah, so you admit that love is otherwise unlikely to befall me!” You laughed.

“That is not what I-”

“It’s called sophism, honey.”

Rebekah huffed. “That’s it! I’m buying you dinner.”

“Wait, what? A wicked grin split your friend's face and you held up your hands. "No… No! Down Bekah! You're not buying me anything - not this time. Down girl!"

Suffice it to say that her will was stronger than yours that day and that's how you found yourself curled up on the couch of her family's home theater, cuddling a wooly mammoth plush that you had named Lieutenant Nose. After several hours of window shopping, you were more than relieved when she invited you back to her house for a movie night. The two of you had decided on watching the best film of all time. A.K.A The Princess Bride.

"What kind of name is Buttercup anyway?" Rebekah wondered, tossing a couple of pieces of popcorn into her mouth.

"What kind of name is any name?" You countered, shrugging. “What makes a name good or bad?”

"Whether or not it starts with Inigo and ends with Montoya," She replied immediately, holding out her hand for a high five.

"Right on!"

Both of you glanced at each other and grinned.

"Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father. Prepare to die!" The two of you quoted in unison. You reached forward to "stab" your friend, quickly dodging her attempt to do the same. You had to roll off the couch to avoid her but managed to pop up and poke her right between the ribs.

"Ha! I win!"

She rolled her eyes and flopped back onto the couch. You opened your mouth to tease her again but someone cut you off.

"Dearest sister, I can't believe this-" A voice like milk chocolate and silk sounded from the doorway, perfectly complementing the pair of eyes that met yours when you pushed your tangled H/C hair out of your face and turned towards the sound. "-you've slighted me!”

Your entire body froze. Of all Rebekah’s siblings, the least human-friendly one now stood just across the room from you. That distance was nothing to a vampire. He could cross the floor and have his teeth buried in your throat in the blink of an eye.

So, you didn’t blink.

You just stared at him, eyes wide and muscles tense. To your right, Rebekah looked ready to throw herself in front of you.

“Get out, Kol,” She ordered, clearly annoyed. The boy at the door shrugged.

“I’m afraid I just can’t do that,” He said regretfully, though not an ounce of that reluctance showed on his face as he leaned against the door frame. “Not until you pay me due recompense that is.”

Wow… You- you really liked his voice. You had seen the guy before but you’d never talked to him. This was the first time you’d ever heard him speak and that voice was downright enchanting. You felt like you could listen to him talk for hours. The boy’s voice was smooth and warm - comforting. The sound lulled you into a security that logically, you knew you really shouldn’t have felt in his presence.

Kol was also super cute now that you got a good look at him. With dark hair and dark eyes and a smile that had no right to be as innocent as it appeared, his entire presence felt like a trap and you could practically feel yourself stepping into it.

This guy ate twenty-three people in one day, you tried to remind yourself. The notion didn’t much help because your brain just could not connect this boy to that gruesome massacre.

“I don’t owe you anything,” Rebekah said, crossing her arms and glaring.

“That’s where you’re wrong." He grinned. His eyes flicked to you and there was this look in them. Kol looked hungry.

Oh, bloody freaking mother of pearl. You were screwed.

Your friend sighed, rolling her eyes. Clearly, her brother didn’t plan on giving up. “What are you talking about, Kol?”

The predator at the door clasped his hands behind his back, smirking in a rather self-satisfied way. “There has been a betrayal committed,” He announced. “A heavenly vision sits on the floor before me and you’ve neglected to tell me her name. Honestly, I’m offended.” Kol shifted his dark chocolate eyes to your face and smiled in what you were sure he thought was a charming way. “Hello, darling.”

Sure, the expression was cute but you didn’t care for it. That smile only served to make you feel small and insignificant, like the prize won from a five-dollar carnival game - amusing, tiny, and something he intended to leave broken in a day or two.

“This is Y/N. She’s my friend and she’s off limits,” Bekah sneered.

Kol rolled his eyes. “Why must you always think the worst of me, sister?”

“Because you always give me a reason to,” She snapped. “Go find yourself a different toy.”

Kol’s gaze remained fixed solely on you. “I don’t think I will.” Then he sauntered across the room and threw himself onto a sofa a few feet away. He glanced up with a cheeky smile directed at your friend. “Relax, Bex. I have every intention to be nice to this radiant angel. No need to be so overprotective.” His tone, let alone his expression, was anything but sincere.

White-hot anger boiled up inside of you as you watched Kol smirk. He wasn't impressed or fascinated with you. The boy had never spared you so much as a glance before now. To him, you were just a new face - one he couldn't recall killing or spending a night with before. The only appeal you held was that of novelty. This act of his was just that. Sure, it was a good display, but ultimately it only spoke to just how self-obsessed he was. Rebekah's observation had been right. You were nothing more than a toy in his eyes - one he craved to break.

Rebekah’s mouth twisted into a scowl. “There’s no such thing as overprotective when it comes to you,” She hissed lowly.

Grinding your teeth, you spoke up. “Don’t worry, Blondie. I’m sure he’ll lose interest the second he realizes I’m on the housekeeping staff.” You narrowed your eyes at the boy as you climbed back onto the couch and smiled thinly to show him that you were onto his little game.

"I hope so," She muttered, wrapping an arm protectively around your shoulders.

"I wouldn't count on it!" Both of you glared at him and Kol just shrugged. "Although, since you are on the house staff, would you perhaps make some of that popcorn stuff for me?" He bit his lip to hold back a cheeky grin. However, those puppy-dog eyes of his did nothing to encourage your determined hatred of him.

You smiled sweetly. "Absolutely not, sweetheart."

"Aw… Why so mean, love?" He whined dejectedly.

"Because you have your own pair of legs for that,” You snipped, your voice measured and crisp. You would have to be careful around this one. He was tricky. You were pretty sure his puppy eyes weren’t even on full power and you already found yourself struggling to say no to him.

Kol's lips twitched up at the corners and he tilted his head. "Really? That's odd because I could have sworn my family pays you for something…"

"That they do." You nodded. "Except, I'm currently off the clock, so professionally speaking, I'm not here. I.E. get off your ass and get some yourself, please and thank you."

Kol blinked. "Fair enough." Then, he got up and left the room, presumably headed for the kitchen.

Rebekah turned to you, eyes wide. "I think that's the first time I've ever seen someone win an argument with him," She said, clearly impressed.

"Really?" You chuckled, quite pleased with yourself.

"Well he argues like an asshole so winning is usually impossible."

"Huh." You tossed another piece of popcorn into your mouth. "Kudos to me then."

"Just don't let him charm you, alright?" She sighed, leveling you suddenly with a degree of seriousness you rarely saw in her. "I know my brother. He's just looking for entertainment - nothing more."

"You don't have to worry about me, Bex. I'm fully aware that no one would actually want to flirt with me."

"No, that's not what I-"

"Let's just watch the movie, yeah?" You didn’t mean to be terse but the words came out harsher than you’d intended them.

"A-alright." The girl’s shoulders slumped and you could tell she was upset with herself.

You smiled and took her hand to show the girl that you weren't mad. This just wasn't something you wanted to talk about, not when Kol could hear you just a few rooms away. So, the two of you continued your movie without interruption until Kol returned about fifteen minutes later with a bowl of popcorn.

"What took you so long?" You wondered offhandedly.

The boy adopted what one might call a sheepish expression. "I may have burnt it… twice." He flopped onto the sofa again. "So, what’s this movie you girls are watching?"

"The Princess Bride," You answered smiling when you caught him grimacing.

"That's not one of those Chick-Flick shows is it?"

"Yes!" You exclaimed readily. The lie, however, was ruined by Bekah, who answered at the same time.

"Absolutely not, I couldn't get Y/N to watch one of those with me if I paid her," She said. You sighed, pinching your nose and her eyes widened. “Oh, you wanted to-” You nodded. “Oh…”

Kol shifted on the couch to look at you, eyes gleaming like a satisfied cat's. "So is it any good?"

You rolled your eyes. "Uncultured swine," You signed to your friend. You were only now rethinking your decision to insult Kol aloud as you’d done earlier. She laughed and nodded.

"Oi!" Kol's somewhat indignant shout caught your attention and you whipped your head around to look at him. Then, to your great surprise, he signed back. "Say that to my face, why don't you?" What was even more impressive was his hands were quicker and more precise than his sister’s and you’d been teaching her for a while.

Your jaw must have hit the floor and stayed there because it was Rebekah who reacted first. She paused the movie and rounded on him.

"Since when do you know sign language?" She demanded, both stunned and accusing.

Kol shrugged. "Since before Alexander Graham Bell was a prick, I suppose." You couldn’t help but laugh, nearly spilling some of the soda you’d been drinking.

"That must have been before he was born, then," You hummed, unable to resist bashing the famous inventor.

"Precisely." Kol grinned and you felt something in your stomach attempt amateur gymnastics. Okay… so perhaps you'd been a little hasty in your judgment of this boy. Maybe he didn’t mean to sound superior or insincere. Perhaps he was just genuinely playful. Maybe he wasn’t actively trying to goad you into a snare. Perhaps that flirtatious attitude was simply his default setting. Maybe there was more to him than just Rebekah's warnings.

But no. Those thoughts were dangerous, not to mention presumptuous. His sister had just warned you about this exact thing! So, you tried to push those butterflies down, but it would seem that they refused to obey.

Trying very hard not to blush, you faced your friend with a raised brow as you stuffed more popcorn in your mouth. "You know, ya’ never told me he didn't suck."

The ferocity of the blonde girl's glare increased as if she were trying to will a white oak dagger to spontaneously put her brother on a time-out. "No. I didn't."

"It's because she's jealous," Kol said in a stage whisper.

"Oh, I see," You whispered back.

“She goes to school and I’m the one who learns things.” He sighed with faux remorse, shrugging. “I just can’t help it.”

“Makes sense.” You nodded sagely. "Thank goodness she can't hear us when we talk like this."

Your friend crossed her arms, miffed. She waited for you to look at her again. “You should really know by now, that I can, as a matter of fact, hear you. Loud and clear.”

“I think she’s onto us, love,” Kol whispered again. He shot you a wink.

Rebekah rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Bloody hell, what an astute observation!”

You held a hand to your chest and, with an obnoxious scream, you vaulted yourself over the back of the couch. “Quick, Kol! Hide! We’re safe if she can’t see us!”

“Oh, okay.” He too let out a laughably high-pitched scream which was followed by a loud thud and though you couldn’t see what happened, you were willing to bet that was the sound an original vampire makes when it jumps a sofa. "This floor is remarkably clean," He noted a moment later.

"You should lick it."

"Tempting, but I'd rather not."

Your best friend groaned. “You know, you’re not clever. Either of you.” She was really trying to sound annoyed but you knew her. The trembles of repressed laughter showed through her voice. That girl never got mad at you because you always knew precisely how long to keep a gag running.

“Geez, Bekah. You’re so mean!” You called from behind the couch. “I thought we were friends.”

“I thought so too!” She lamented. “I thought it was us against the world - girls versus boys. You agreed with me about him not five minutes ago, but you’ve swapped sides.”

You flushed and you were grateful neither of them could see. She had a point but you just… you couldn’t help liking Kol. Now that you actually spared him your bias, his good humor was just too easy to fall into.

"I know, I know…” You hissed. Then you popped back up from your hiding place and leaned on the back of the couch. “But he speaks the language of allies." You spared a glance toward where Kol had been sitting earlier to find that only his legs were visible now, sticking out from behind the sofa. You rolled your eyes.

"If hating on ableists is all it takes to earn your trust, then I wasted a lot of effort." Rebekah frowned.

You shrugged. "I fail to see how that's a personality flaw."

"Oh, it's not." She gestured to her brother. "You're just making it way too easy on this idiot."

“Well, in Y/N’s defense -” Kol spoke, picking himself up off the floor. “- I am a lot more fun.”

"You wish," The two of you said in tandem. The boy just shrugged, chuckling to himself and Rebekah pressed play on the movie.

Kol ended up staying for all of it, much to your chagrin. When the film ended, you cast a glance at the clock only to realize that it was past eleven.

"Holy crap!" You exclaimed. "I gotta-"

The blonde cut you off. "You're not going home this late, love."

"But I-"

"I rather prefer my best friends un-eaten." She sent you a hard look and even though you agreed with her, you knew there would be no changing that girl's mind.

You shrugged. "Yeah, okay. But I'm not sleeping in your room."

Rebekah tossed her head back, laughing at the memory. "What? Did you not have fun last time?" She teased, nudging your shoulder.

"No. No, I did not."

Kol raised a brow, intrigued. "What happened last time?"

You shuddered, gagging obnoxiously and his sister just laughed harder, nearly slipping off the couch. "Marcel! He-He snuck into my room in the middle of the night an-and then-" You tossed a blanket over her head to stop her from finishing the story but she was laughing too hard to do so anyway.

"We're not reliving that!" You declared as Rebekah struggled to find her way out of the blanket.

"Oh, but your face!"

"Nooooo!" Grabbing a throw pillow off the couch, you tossed it at her head and she finally fell off the seat, shaking with giggles.

"Well now, if you're not staying with Bex, you can always join me." Kol smirked, meeting your eyes. His were darker somehow than they'd been before - obsidian instead of chocolate - and filled with a thinly veiled hunger that told you some part of him was serious.

Your insides twisted but you couldn’t tell if you were flattered or terrified. Those eyes were intense, smoldering. Were you supposed to run or step closer? Settling yourself, you pressed your lips into a line, crossing your arms over your chest uncomfortably. That was it, you decided. He just made you uncomfortable. That was what you felt.

Nothing else.

"I think one of the guest rooms will be just fine, but thanks anyway," You said.

“Are you sure?” The dark-haired boy leaned forward. His hair must have been so soft but why were you thinking about that? “At the very least, I can promise to keep you warm, darling."

The way that pet name rolled so easily off his tongue prompted a rush of color to your cheeks. He made it sound endearing but you couldn't determine if he meant it or not. That was the problem with this flirtatious guide of his - somehow it was both sweet and menacing. Should you be afraid or should you go along?

Rebekah’s laughter ceased and a frigid tension began to build in the atmosphere between the siblings.

“Nah,” You waved a hand, shifting nervously as your cheeks reddened and your bones shuddered. What were you supposed to do with this? “I-I have, uh, restless leg syndrome. I’d kick you.”

That smile that split his lips next was a sharp, ravenous thing. Kol licked his lips. “Oh, I wouldn’t mind a few bruises, sweet thing.”

You swallowed thickly, crushing your folded arms against your stomach as if you might squash the butterflies if you pressed hard enough. Everything - your whole body - felt cold and hot and itchy. You felt the urge to squirm but you didn’t feel a need to leave. You didn’t know what this was. You couldn’t figure out what he was trying to do!

Thankfully, Bekah was there to save the day. Your friend stood off the floor and pulled you up by the arm. "Alright, that's enough socializing for tonight, I think."

"Aww, sister," Kol pouted. "Taking her away from me so soon? We've barely gotten acquainted."

"Then I stand corrected," The girl sniped. "That's more than enough socializing." She turned on her heel and walked quickly towards the door, tugging you along. Were you grateful or reluctant?

For whatever reason, most likely one you couldn't explain, you glanced back as you followed her, meeting Kol's eyes for a moment. He smiled for you. "Goodnight, Angel." He signed. Those movements seemed soft - the words, sweet to your eyes. The boy waved and you turned away as quickly as you felt yourself blushing.

This was not a wise inclination on your part.

When you arrived at the door of one of the guest rooms, the one closest to Rebekah’s, you stopped and turned to your friend, twisting a nervous hand around and around your wrist. She regarded you questioningly, raising a brow. The last thing you wanted to do was offend her, but… you had to make sure. You were just housekeeping - that was it. You were just some dirt-poor kid from the warehouse district, dreaming of the day you’d have enough money to go to college. You didn’t matter. No one would care if you were simply gone tomorrow. Perhaps Rebekah would - perhaps your friend would shed a tear or two - but she’d get over it.

She took your hands, stilling their frantic rubbing, and looked you in the eyes. Rebekah may not always be the most considerate person in the world but she cared so, so deeply. You could read that in her soft blue eyes.

“What is it, Y/N?” She asked quietly.

“Bex…y-your brother,” You started carefully, pausing to gauge her reaction. She didn’t draw back or glare. No, she just held your eyes. You took a deep breath. “He's not gonna… do anything… right?”

The blonde girl smiled softly and shook her head. You were actually taller than her by a solid two or three inches so she had to reach up a bit to hug you, but it was actually more comforting that way because you could just throw your weight on her shoulders, knowing she’d hold you up like the tempest battered rock she was. “He wouldn’t dare,” She promised, whispering in your ear. “Despite his reputation, there are lines Kol will not cross. My brother may be a blunt, impulsive ass, but - underneath that flirtatious mask - there’s an entirely different blunt impulsive ass who happens to be something of a gentleman.” You snickered and pulled away, smiling gratefully.

“Thanks, blondie. I-I guess I just-��

“You don’t have to explain, dear. I get it.” Rebekah let her arms fall and took hold of your hand again, squeezing. “You’re safe here. I promise.” Then she let go.

“That's good to know,” You said, reaching for the door handle.

“Besides,” Your friend added, her tone significantly cheekier. “If Kol so much as laid a finger on my best friend, I’d string him up by his-”

“OKAY, Bex. I got the picture!” You exclaimed, holding your hands out to cut her off. She just grinned and flounced down the hall to her room because the bedrooms in that place were big enough to be hotel suits. “Say hi to Marcel for me when he inevitably drops by.” (Though you would never admit it, you thought those two were cute together. They were so in love it almost made you sick.)

The blonde rolled her eyes, blushing just a tad. “Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Y/N.” She moved to escape your teasing but you stopped her again.

“Wait, actually, don’t. Do not, under any circumstances mention my name while you two are… studying anatomy.”

Your friend blushed fiercely. “Goodnight!” She squeaked forcefully, before rushing into her room and closing the door behind her. You snorted, pleased with yourself, and entered your own room, quickly readying for bed. You drifted off sometime later, thinking about black holes and the relativity of time.

Around three A.M, you woke again. See, you had this habit of doing that. You often found yourself lost in thought while you worked and ended up skipping meals during the day. Thus, after dark - specifically around three in the morning - you would get so hungry that your body woke itself up. Midnight snacks were technically awful for you, but you figured you could worry about that when you were forty or something.

So you got up, dawned just one of your hearing aids because you were lazy and tired, you and slipped on one of Rebekah’s bathrobes, though you didn’t bother tying it, you were too groggy for that. It wasn’t like you slept naked or anything - this was the middle of January; therefore you wore a t-shirt and sleep shorts because this was also Louisiana. Slipping out of your room, you made your way through the maze of halls and servant’s passages that wound through the compound like a human’s circulatory system, determined to make it to the kitchen. It wasn’t as though you could get lost. No, you knew that house like the back of your hand - probably better.

You padded down a staircase barefoot, and though it was unlikely any of the tenets were up, you tried your best to remain as silent as possible. Such a tactic turned out to be mostly useless as, in passing by Klaus’ studio where he was still painting, he noticed you and waved. Did that man even have a sleep schedule? You stilled, wondering whether you should wave back. Knowing him, the hybrid would probably demand to know why it was that you were up and about so late.

He called out to you, just barely loud enough for you to hear but not quite loud enough for you to understand.

“What was that?” You asked in a whisper as you appeared in the doorway.

“Are you sleep walking again, love?” Klaus signed, smirking amusedly. You blushed fiercely - yeah, that had happened once or twice at your frequent sleepovers.

“Nope,” You whispered back. “Just… prematurely ruining my metabolism.”

He huffed a small laugh. “In that case, carry on.” His movements were dramatic and the teasing only made you blush all the more.

“Yep. Thanks.” You rushed away before he could say anything else.

When you arrived at your destination, the room was shrouded in darkness though you didn’t bother flipping on the light. The light from the fridge would suffice. Opening it, you inspected your options. The Mikaelson’s kitchen was kept stock more as a convenience to them rather than out of any real need and Rebekah had firmly insisted that you help yourself to whatever you felt like, whenever you felt like it. Now, you’d never been one to turn down free food, so you readily took advantage of the offer. Their family had too much money anyway.

You decided that anything you couldn’t read the label of was Elijah’s, and you’d been told by the blonde herself that Rebekah writes her name on anything she intends to eat. Klaus, you were pretty sure, just lived entirely on pretzels, chicken tenders, hot sauce, and alcohol - which was mildly disturbing more than anything - and once again, you had no inkling as to Kol’s preferences. Thus, inspecting the contents of the fridge, you found an unmarked box of cheese quesadillas and figured they’d be safe to eat. You pulled them out, humming to yourself.

"Well, this is awkward."

You nearly jumped out of your skin, dropping the box of quesadillas. The words were soft, barely registering in your hearing aid and you had no idea where it had come from. So startled were you by the voice from the darkness that the scream in your chest became lodged in your throat. You stood there frozen, searching frantically through the black veil of the night for the all too lovely boy whose clever tongue commanded that sweet melody. You couldn’t see him. Fear - wild and sharp - rose within your chest, crawling into your heart, and diffusing in your blood as your pulse thrummed faster. You tried to remember what Rebekah had said about you being safe, except you didn’t because your thoughts were entirely paralyzed. In the darkness and the cold, slightly drafty kitchen of that house, you thought you could feel the horrifying sensation of a vampire breathing down your neck. With a burst of movement you hadn’t even thought about, you raced to flip on the lights.

You blinked, shaking with fright as you scanned the room. Confused, you glanced all around, even behind you. Yet, Kol was nowhere to be found.

Were you going mad?

Then you gasped as, seemingly by its own volition, the refrigerator door swung shut. There, atop the counter previously hidden by it, sat Kol. The two of you stared at each other for a moment and you were surprised to realize that there wasn’t an inkling of malicious intent visible in his expression. If anything he just looked amused and a little… embarrassed?

You quickly noticed why.

The had in his lap a tub of ice cream and a carton of Oreos. But he wasn’t eating them separately. Judging off of the indents in the ice cream and the cookie in his hand which had a glob of the desert slathered over it and dripping between his fingers, you figured he must have been using the Oreos to like a spoon with which to eat the ice cream. It was ingenious if not oddly horrifying.

You opened your mouth to demand answers but you weren’t sure what you would ask. A jumble of nonsensical syllables escaped your mouth instead. "Wha- How are you- I mean that’s just… WHAT???"

Kol glanced down at the deserts in his lap and then back up at you.

"I have a problem,” He said flatly.

You blinked and nodded. "A few, yeah."

Another few seconds passed between you, spent with mutual wide eyed stares. Your brain was still fogged with sleep and running far too slowly to comprehend everything you were feeling at the moment. As for Kol, he just shoved the cookie in his mouth and downed it as fast as he could before you got too judgy.

“I am so confused,” You muttered, watching him lick ice cream from his fingers. He looked you dead in the eye the whole time. You swallowed thickly. Why did that make you blush?

“Understandable.” The boy put the lid back on the ice cream container. "How about you and I just… forget you ever saw this?" He suggested.

"I wish I could."

He frowned, lifting an eyebrow. “You’re not entirely innocent here either, darling.”

“What?”

He gestured to the box quesadillas at his feet. You glanced down.

“There’s an explanation for that,” You claimed. The desire to curl up in a hole to hide was strong, but you resisted. Kol gestured for you to continue. "Well, you see I'm a terrible human being and I've resigned to that fact."

The boy’s defensive expression broke into a grin and he laughed, a sweet melody on your ears. “You don’t seem so bad to me,” He said.

“No offense or anything, but I don’t think you’re an accurate judge of personal morality or ethics.” You yawned, rubbing some of the sleep from your eyes.

“You have a point there.” Kol smirked and hopped off the counter, taking a small step closer. His eyes flicked over your figure. “Oh, now you’re just showing off.”

“Excuse me?”

That amused smirk morphed into a cheeky grin and he shrugged, dragging a hand through his hair. “Well, you can’t just walk around with a figure as tempting as yours and expect me not to notice,” Kol mused.

Glancing down, you realized that your pajama shorts didn’t exactly cover as much as you would have liked. Their minimal length gave the dark-haired boy an unobstructed view of your legs and left rather little to the imagination. He may have been a vampire, but he was still a boy. Your cheeks grew hot and you knew he’d be able to see under the fluorescent lights of the kitchen. Although, oddly enough, you found that you weren’t exactly mad at him for noticing… or for looking at you that way at all. Did you want him to? Did you like having his attention?

“Oh, um…” You didn’t know what to say to that. “Thank you, I guess?”

“Thank you for being so beautiful.”

You frowned, forcing a laugh. “I’m like… the definition of average, but okay.”

“What makes you say that?” He wondered. Those eyes - amber now, not obsidian or chocolate, but amber and warm - narrowed with something that looked like concern. The boy drew two steps closer. Should you stay or run? “You’re gorgeous, darling. Don’t tell yourself otherwise.”

The way he said it was different this time. His words didn’t have the same razor sharp edge to them and his eyes held none of that darkness and hunger that had been there before. Now the words just seemed honest. It was almost as if he were someone else - he was still Kol just… softer now that no one else was around. He seemed warm and you felt a sudden urge to curl up against him and go back to sleep.

Blushing, you shook your head and looked at the ground. It wasn’t that you thought he was lying, you just didn’t believe him.

He moved closer to you again, slowly. Almost as if he were testing how close you would allow him. The boy was only half an arm's length away now, close enough to touch. Close enough to taste you if he wanted, but would he?

Kol reached out and rested a hand on your shoulder with a feather touch. You stiffened but you didn’t tell him no. You didn’t run away.

“You know, I was actually hoping I’d have the fortune of finding myself a moment alone with you,” He quietly admitted. His hand slid down your arm, smoothing over your skin.

Your eyes snapped up, widening. You shouldn’t trust this boy. You should run.

“Why?” Your voice shook but at least it was there. You could tell him no if you needed to and Rebekah had said - she had promised that Kol would respect you.

A flash of realization flickered over his expression and he drew his hand back. “I’m sorry, darling. That was inconsiderate, wasn’t it? Sometimes with the way you act its…” He smiled but it wasn’t cheeky or sarcastic. It was a little sad. “Its just hard to remember that you’re terrified.”

“I-I’m not scared of you…” The words were lies and there was no way he wouldn’t see it. Kol raised a brow and took another step closer. You instinctively countered the movement to put some space between you, contradicting yourself instantly. That sad smile made another appearance. You cursed yourself for being so inherently cowardly. You’d worked for these people for eight months and not one of them had made so much as a motion to harm you. They fed off of the other housekeepers, but they’d never touched you. For Klaus or Elijah it probably had something to do with their fear of Rebekah’s wrath but…

With the way Kol was looking at you, maybe he had a different reason.

“It’s okay that you’re scared,” The boy said, shrugging a little. “That’s only natural. Fear is wisdom in the face of danger, so really it just means that you’re smart.” Had he said that a little differently, it would have sounded like a threat but the timbre was that of a compliment.

“Not smart enough, apparently,” You breathed.

Kol tilted his head, frowning. "Not smart enough for what?"

"Well I just can't seem to figure out what you really want from me." You crossed your arms and pressed them tightly against your body. Perhaps you were trying to hold yourself together. Kol's mere presence had you torn between emotions.

He seemed surprised by your answer as though he'd expected you to skirt around such a direct confrontation. He blinked and you thought you imagined just the slightest twinge of pink in his cheeks as rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip, mulling over his response.

"I want to know you," He decided. "I want to learn all that you are and I want you to know me. I want to rid you of this fear - purge it from you slowly, pluck it from your bones piece by piece until the day comes when you'll let me hold you."

"You…" Your voice trailed off as you struggled to grip such a concept. "You don't want my blood?"

The boy smiled thinly but you watched a tragic bitterness flicker over her face. "I wish I could lie and say I didn't, but truthfully it was the first thing that drew me to you. " He shook his head, ashamed. Then those amber eyes flicked upward, meeting yours meaningfully. “But I’ve decided not to take it.”

And that wording was important, you knew, because it went against his his usual pattern. Kol was impulsive, he let the moment guide his actions. It was rare for that boy to make an active decision in advance. The statement was a silent request for trust.

“Why?” You asked, brows pulling together. Kol just didn’t seem like the selfless type to you.

He shrugged. “Well, I don’t much like people. Never have - ignorance annoys me - but you’re different. You, my darling, are a puzzle.” The boy grinned. You’d never taken him for a scholar, but there was something excited about that expression - the glimmer in his eyes, perhaps - they displayed a passion for discovery, a craving for knowledge. He leaned closer almost conspiratorially. “I like puzzles. Especially the pretty ones.”

So he really did want to know you. Well, you weren’t ready for that.

“Kol, thank you for the complement, I really appreciate it but I have a feeling I know where this is going and I think I should stop you here.” You sighed and paused for a moment, carefully formulating the proper words to reflect your feelings. The whole while, his eyes remained on your face so you kept your own on the floor and tugged at the hem of your shirt distractedly. “I’m not… good at relationships. You said you don’t like people, and well neither do I. I don’t like them, I don’t like their expectations, their judgments, their hidden agendas - I don’t like any of it. I don’t understand any of it and I don’t have the patience to figure it out. I just… how do I say this?”

“You see too much,” Kol interrupted. You snapped your head up, regarding him questioningly. He continued. “You see everything around you so much differently than others. You see into things - you study them and you understand where others don’t and that bothers you. It annoys you, because why can’t they just look? Why can’t everyone just think?”

That was it. He’d said it. He’d said exactly what you were feeling - what you had always felt - and he said it with honest eyes and just a taste of that constant frustration you’d become so used to.

“They don’t think,” You muttered bitterly. He nodded.

“So, I’m right then?” He said quietly. “It’s not that you don’t understand people - no, it’s quite the opposite, isn’t it? You understand them perfectly - too perfectly. You see through lies and false hoods as though they were merely glass, thus you can’t comprehend why anyone would bother with them. You’re honest and you desperately wish everyone else would be as well, because where is the point in lying? The liars and the cheaters and the unfairness of this world frustrate you, because you were born in the dust and you would steal their thrones in the blink of an eye if only you were provided the opportunity.”

That. That was too close. He shouldn’t know that. No one knew those things about you. His words were far too similar to your own thoughts - the ones you kept to yourself, buried under that customer-service smile you’d learned so early in your youth. Those thoughts weren’t something you shared. Period. With anyone. You were just a housekeeper, a personal maid and that was all any person would ever get to see of you. No one was supposed to see that you had been thinking about astrophysics since you were in the fourth grade or that you had aced every math test you had ever taken.

Because if the world saw that then it would try so much harder to push you down. You had been born in the dust, just as Kol had said, and no one wants to see the gutter reach for the stars. You were the sort of person who could change the world, but those in power didn’t want to see the world change.

“How do you know any of that?” You demanded, eyes narrowing as your tone changed from a snowfall to steel.

“Because I’ve felt it all my life,” The boy replied. “It’s the prodigy mentality, I’m afraid.”

You tilted your head to the side, considering him. “I thought you said you didn’t understand me.”

Kol smirked. “Oh no, that’s the part of you I picked up on immediately. You and I are a lot alike. It’s why you’re so close with Bekah. She’s everything you wish you had without any of the things you hate. She’s my favorite too.”

“Seems like you’ve got everything figured out, then,” You said. Something in you was disappointed though you weren’t sure why.

“Not everything.” His eyes sparkled with bemusement. He loved this. “I’m still trying to figure out how it is that you’re not bitter. You’re awfully cheerful for one so full of resentment.”

Smiling faintly, you cast your gaze down to your feet. “People aren’t very kind… I like to go against the grain.”

Kol leaned back on his heels and nodded. “Genuine kindness derived from spite,” He mused, rubbing his thumb over his lower lip. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before.” The boy chuckled and his eyes flicked over you again, reassessing. “I like it.”

He was like you. Both similar and opposite, the two of you were contrasting sides of the same coin - a mirror of one another. Kol Mikaelson thought you were special.

Your cheeks burned under his attention.

“Uncle Kol?” A voice from the kitchen doorway asked. Both you and Kol turned toward the sound. The adorable red-haired girl standing before you was Klaus’ daughter, Hope. She was eight years old and probably the sweetest soul you’d ever met - which was baffling considering who her father was. The girl glanced between the two of you, rubbing at bleary eyes. “Hi, Miss. Y/N/N.”

“Hey there, strawberry shortcake.” You offered her a smile and a wave which she returned. Kol crossed his arms.

“What are you doing up, little witch?” He prompted in what was probably his best responsible-adult voice, though it wasn’t very convincing. She padded over to him and held out her arms for him to pick her up. Kol obliged, pitching Hope on his hip.

“I was thirsty,” She replied, resting her head on his shoulder. She was clearly still mostly out of it.

Her uncle chuckled softly and kissed her hair. “Do you want some water?” Hope hummed and nodded. “What do you say?”

“Please?” She mumbled.

“Excellent.” He carried her over to the cabinet for a cup. “You know, one of the most powerful spells you’ll ever learn is the magic word, love.”

“He’s right, you know,” You agreed. It’s never a bad thing to support good parenting.

“Mmm… Freya says the most powerful magic is-is, uh… neco-pantsy,” Hope argued, struggling to pronounce the word.

Kol frowned. “Necromancy?”

“Uh, huh.”

He tossed you an alarmed glance and you just shrugged.

“Well I’m going to have to talk to Aunt Freya about what she’s teaching you.”

“Why?” The little girl asked.

“Because you, my sweet, are just a little too young to be talking about black magic.” He tapped her nose, causing her to giggle. “Besides, Necromancy can usually only help you recover something you already had. Now, the magic word, if used appropriately, can get you almost anything you want.” Kol filled the glass of water in the sink and passed it to Hope.

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. For example-” He turned to you and grinned. “-Y/N, I find you captivating above all other women I’ve met in my long, long life. Your intelligence is as impressive as your beauty and l would be ever so grateful to bask in your presence for an evening. Would you please allow me to take you to dinner sometime?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

He shot you a wink and turned back to Hope. “See?”

Hope, however, was one smart little cookie. Her eyes flicked between the two of you and her eyebrows drew together. You could practically see the lightbulb blink on above her head and the change of her expression looked suspiciously like an oven going ding!

“Are you in love with Miss Y/N?” She demanded. Kol blinked and glanced toward you. Your face flushed.

“Well, I don’t know about that quite yet,” He laughed. “Though, I must say I’m not opposed to the idea.”

Hope grinned. “You love her! You love her! You really, really love her!” She sang, giggling. Though your cheeks were surely redder than tomatoes, you couldn’t contain your own laughter.

“Alright, I think that’s quite enough out of you, little witch,” Kol said, feigning annoyance, though he too was smiling. He put the girl down and took her now empty glass from her little hands. “Off to bed now.”

The little red-head smiled mischievously, rocking back and forth on her heels. “I wonder what Auntie Bex is going to say about you having a crush on her best friend?” She mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. This girl was good. Eight years old and already mastering the intricate art of blackmail.

Kol’s brows shot up and he huffed. His eyes flicked to you. “Did you hear that?”

“Oh, yeah.” You smirked. “Kid’s got you cornered.”

“I’m not sure if I’m proud or terrified,” The boy muttered. He braced his arms on his knees and leaned down to her height. “Let’s just you and I be clear, little witch. Your Auntie Bex isn’t going to find out what you just witnessed, because you aren’t going to tell her anything. Savvy?”

Hope met his eyes and smirked. “Hmmmm…” Then she glanced down to inspect her fingernails. You wondered where she’d learned that from. “I think you’re going to have to convince me,” She said.

Kol straightened, taken aback by the absolute power move coming from an eight-year-old. “You’re a little weasel, you know that?”

“I know!” She chirped.

He bit his lip. “What do you want?”

“Whaddya got?”

He scratched the back of his head as if debating which would be worse, the wrath of his sister or the wrath of Hope’s parents. Actually, the more you thought about it, the more you thought Klaus would probably just encourage this sort of behavior. Kol shook a finger at his niece but moved over to where he’d left his half eaten carton of ice-cream.

“You keep your cute little mouth shut and this is yours,” He said. Hope tried to quirk an eyebrow but failed, bursting into giggles when Kol did it successfully.

“Okay!” She cheered. The girl raised her arms again and he lifted her onto the counter.

“You’re lucky you’re my favorite niece,” He grumbled. Grabbing the container of ice cream, he popped it open and removed a proper spoon from the drawer before passing both items to her.

Hope rolled her eyes. “Uncle Kol! I’m your only niece!”

Kol winked and bopped her nose again. “Precisely.” Then he rounded on you, amber eyes sparkling and sweet. “So, what do you say, darling? How does tomorrow night sound?”

You just smiled. Maybe this boy wasn’t so bad. “That sounds great.”

"It's a date." The genuine delight on his face made you blush. He turned back to Hope. “And you’re not invited, you naughty, naughty girl.”

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rhonuscorner · 8 months ago

Text

AO3 Question Tag Game

Shamelessly stolen from @bamsara because I have some time to spare right now and this sounds fun. Not tagging anyone, if you wanna do this too, consider yourselves tagged. I'm tagging you!

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

As of right now, only 3. I deleted a bunch of them and one has been orphaned.

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

423,837. The fic that I orphaned a few months ago would've doubled that.

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, Fnaf. I have also written for Assassin's Creed, Cyberpunk 2077, MCU, DBZ, Dragon Age and The Walking Dead.

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

Skip.

5 – Do you respond to comments?

99% of the time, yes. I do forget sometimes but I really wanna show my appreciation to those who take the time to leave a comment by responding and thanking them.

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Skip, I don't do angsty endings. Angsty stories, absolutely, but the ending has gotta be a happy one.

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Well considering I've never actually finished a fic this is hard to answer, but for plenty of them I do have endings figured out. Makes it hard to talk about it due to spoilers and what-not.

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

Yeah it's happened. I delete their comments, block 'm and go on with my day, happy in the knowledge that while I'm not perfect, at least I'm not a pathetic troll hiding behind anonymity to make myself feel better ^-^

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I used to write a lot of smut, always m/m. It's fairly rare for me to write nowadays but I'm not ruling it out.

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

None of them have really been all that crazy, some crossovers work out surprisingly well! I love it when they do.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yup.

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also yup. Most of the time the person behind it asked for permission so I was cool with it, but I've also found a translation or two of that one orphaned fic that was done without my knowing about it.

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

All of my work is co-written (with the exception of one CP2077 one-shot and my current DCA AUs). I am big on one-on-one fandom RP, I love building a story with someone else and have our characters interact. It's one of my favorite things to do. Still hoping to find a someone to write DCA stories with one day.

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

Impossible to answer.

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

... all of them.

16 – What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, both spoken dialogue as well as a character's inner thoughts. Also action/fighting scenes.

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

Describing surroundings and appearances.

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Again the orphaned fic, it had a lot of characters from different countries so while everyone spoke English, those characters did tend to slip every so often. Mostly French and Italian, all done through google translate because I don't speak either lol.

And in most of the DBZ fics I used a fan-made language for saiyans that I borrowed words from.

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

Medabots. This was like... 2001 or something, I finally got access to internet around that time and the first online friend I made I also started writing stories with. Medabots was one of the most popular anime on tv in that time so yeah.

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

Uh... again that's gotta be the orphaned fic. It's certainly the biggest I've ever (co) written and it was a ton of fun as well as the most popular fic I've ever written. And the longest too! At one point in time it was the second longest fic in the entire Assassin's Creed section on AO3. Good times.

#I dunno what to tag this as #AO3 tag game #I guess

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doyl1st · 8 months ago

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A long, rambling post about Ignatius.

Ignatius (Iggy) Duncan is Isaac's younger brother. He's a goofy, kind, and sweet man with an almost childlike innocence to him, despite his bloody backstory and violent tendencies. He'll never hurt an innocent person, but if he feels like you deserve to have your nose broken, he'll break it. The thing is, though, he'll do it with a smile on his face. Not a malicious grin or anything. Just this silly, almost dopey little smile.

Iggy is as much of a manic chaos goblin as Isaac is, if not even more so.

As detailed in my other post, he and Isaac have a great many things in common.

Where they differ is in their interests and specialties. Isaac is a man of science who loves math, engineering, and languages. He's got three PhDs and a doctorate. Art and music are totally lost on him, though. He likes them, but he's no good with them.

Iggy, on the other hand, dropped out of college three months in and started working at a record store. He's still extremely intelligent, definitely a traditional genius in his own right, but his true brilliance resides in music. Iggy's the sort of guy who can compose symphonies in his head and play any music he picks up. He's also the kind of guy who genuinely listens to everything, his favorite genres being energetic rap and the heaviest metal known to man.

He considers himself to be the Facility's failure, and has kinda low self esteem. That's really what's defined him for most of his life, allowing others to worm their way into his head. Isaac was a manipulator, but Iggy was manipulated.

Like I mentioned before, Iggy worked at a record store after dropping out of college. It was a really nice gig, expanding his knowledge and interest in music and teaching him a little bit about how the real world works. It didn't last too long, though. The store went under after only a few years and Iggy was lost again.

He was found after a bar fight that ended with him breaking the jaw of a gangster, some dude working for the local mob. That probably would've been the death of him, if the guy's boss hadn't been impressed by it. He brought Iggy into the fold, feeding him plenty of lies about how they weren't all bad.

Iggy wasn't stupid. He knew the guy was just telling him what he wanted to hear, but that was alright with him at the time. The guy was nice to him, made him feel like he belonged somewhere, and that's something he's craved since childhood.

At first, things weren't too bad. Iggy would run errands and do favors, doing pretty much whatever he was told. Then it graduated to him being something of an enforcer. If his boss told him to hurt someone, he'd do it. Iggy might've been only 5'4", but he had one hell of a right hook. He was fast, too, and not above using dirty tricks or improvised weapons in a fight. When it began, his boss would tell him some kind of lie about how the guy whose leg Iggy was breaking deserved it in some way, but eventually he stopped bothering. He knew Iggy would do what he asked even without an excuse.

Eventually, that progressed into Iggy doing hits for the guy. Same story as the last. He'd tell Iggy the guy deserved it, and Iggy would listen. The first few might not have been lies, if only to acclimate Iggy to it. It was hard for him in the beginning. He threw up after the first one. Cried himself to sleep. But over time, it got easier. Knowing the men he was killing would do the same to him if given the opportunity made it easier, too. Iggy eventually began to rationalize it as if they were playing some kind of game. If they die, he wins. If he dies, they win. If you're in the life, you're fair game. No hard feelings either way.

Iggy wouldn't say he necessarily liked killing, but he did enjoy the thrill of knowing he might die if something goes wrong. He's an adrenaline junky just like Isaac, but the difference is that Isaac likes daring heists and outsmarting his opponents. Iggy likes shoot outs and fist fights.

His life in the mob ended with a raid that landed him in police custody. It was almost immediately obvious that Iggy wasn't just some run of the mill crook, and after some talking, some phone calls, and negotiating, some kind of deal was made.

Iggy is now, effectively, a secret agent. He's on a tight leash, but he's at least free. Isaac's deal actually used Iggy's as a basis, but Isaac doesn't find that out until years later when he and Iggy reconnect because of a shared case.

Like Isaac, Iggy has continued to grow and evolve as a person after being forced into a safe environment. He's learning how to become his own person, how to exist without someone telling him what to do. It's difficult, considering some high ranking official is still doing that, but still. He still has a pretty warped view on life and death, but he's at least not as apt to kill as he used to be. With a good enough reason Iggy can and will chase someone down with a fire axe.

He's still pretty eager to fight, though, and now that he's had some formal training, he's a lot more effective. He'll never hurt an innocent person, though. Never, ever, ever, as he'd say.

Iggy's unofficial theme is Insanely Illegal Cage Fight. Even the title is fitting for him.

#off the record (ooc) ❌#very very long post #absolutely do not feel obligated to read any of these tho #they're mostly just for me to note down my ideas #so I’m not gonna waste tooo much time making them all nicely worded and coherent lmao

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bonesandthebees · 8 months ago

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I’ve been listening to your songs during my evening down time. All of them are nice and calming (or well the ones I didn’t know I already know basically ABBA’s and Queen’s entire sound track). But I had a lot of fun. So thank you. I might work my way through your other answers too when I have the time. Maybe then I can figure out your music taste enough to recommend you some Dutch songs if you want to hear them (or I could do Belgian artists who sing in English, there’s plenty of those too) cuz I think that’s music you wouldn’t really hear and I did miss speak your language day so I might want to make up for that.

-🌲

I'm very relieved to hear you know ABBA and Queen so well I would've been concerned if you didn't. I'm so glad you liked the songs though!!!

omg yes I'd love some recs for Dutch artists! and I'm fine with listening to the songs in Dutch bc I like listening to non-english music

I also missed speak your language day 😭 I pretty much can only speak english but I was going to try and write at least one post in spanish using my limited high school spanish knowledge, or I was also considering posting a video of me signing in ASL since that's the language I'm most proficient in but I just got distracted by other things

also I know a lot of people make fun of Dutch as a language, and I will admit Netherlands Dutch does sound kind of goofy at times (although it is helpful how there's so many similar words to english). but the Belgian Dutch accent makes it sound soooo much prettier

#ask #spruce anon

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eyeknowmayhem · 1 year ago

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💘 and ❤️ for Ray, wingnut and mondo?

❤️ - How did your muse come to realize their romantic and sexual orientations? Was it difficult to accept? Are they proud of who they are?

Wingnut: they may watch a lotta tv as their main information in the outside world, but I think Wingnut did realize she liked girls because of one thing; not at all relating to the idea that girls are super boy crazy - because like, girls are just better. She assumed this was universal and very quickly realized this was not. I think it did kinda click when she used the interwebs to see other ppl’s cosplays of her favorite characters and was very much hit over the head with “holy shit, women!” Beam.

All jokes aside she’s fine with it! Her family accepts her as she is, there’s some teasing here and there about her complete lack of rizz when it comes to girls but that’s more to do with wingnut’s skill issue than her being gay. She’s not exactly a casonva.

Ray: he never really figured out he was gay specifically until a bit later. He knew he liked dudes he just didn’t really know there was a word for it. He would tend to gravitate towards more monstrous men- stuff like werewolves, sea creatures, some kinds of demons. Cuz, he’s not gonna pretend tht he’ll ever have a chance with human men. He says it’s pragmatism, it’s mostly just not feeling adequate enough. He won’t lie- he was a little jealous seeing how well Scumbug and splinter worked out.

Mondo: He loves everyone, and that translates to romantic love too. Mondo never really had a big realization, just as a fact of life and has gone through it knowing that’s just who he was. Honestly it may be a case where all of his siblings knew before he did LMAO. Probably the most likely to own a big ass tyedye bi flag. It’s one of the best qualities in his opinion- the flag colors are awesome.

💘 - What is your muse like when they're in love? What does your muse find attractive in someone else? What are their love languages? How do they show affection? Do they show any distinct signs that they're in love?

Wingnut: if she gets a crush she’s just over. Thats it. She’s done. I feel like- she does like women who- take up space. Loud outfits, loud personality’s, big women, even bigger hearts, enough tattoos to consider yourself a subway wall, the kind of confidence that feels contagious. Though, even with that type I think she’s way too nervous and shy and would make a fool outta herself somehow.

Give it time and she’ll mellow out a little more, offer to spend time doing things they both like. Most likely to end up word vomiting some kind of confession after awhile of simmering on it. In the end though, she’s got a lot of love to give and isn’t afraid to show it- most of the time.

Her love language is that she’s going to binge watch anime with you and talk the whole time (/JOKES) - but real talk. She loves spending time with the one she loves, even if it does mean she’ll have to sit through something she may not enjoy. The company is enough. She’s no stranger to weird, and if they love her weirdness, she’ll love it too.

Ray: unlike the nervous sorta deal Wingnut has his knowledge of having a crush would be - well, apprehension mostly. Especially if it’s a human. Cuz- ok, he can find plenty of men who like other men, they live in New York, but like. The whole “mutant” thing may be a a bit of a hard sell. Though not as much as it was before the humans had more knowledge of mutants. He’s still unsure about it all. Still, it doesn’t stop him thinking about it.

I answered most of the attraction part already in the other ask. As far as like, showing it. He would make a mixtape, then think about how stupid and corny it is to make a mixtape, sends it anyway. He has his own playlist of love songs that he has- he’d rather eat his own tail, stinger attached than ever tell anyone. This also applies to the crush - he’d never be the type to tell them directly; he’s more than content with the companionship. Because sure he’ll never say it with words but would be like- would use one of the “wings” to shield with rain, knows who their favorite musicians are, stuff like that.

Mondo: oddly enough I think he never gets crushes. Not- capital C crushes very often. He’s an affectionate guy and has a lot of love to share but it’s never really relevant if he’s romantically attracted to someone. For him it’s less like, any sorta qualities of someone it’s more a matter of like. It’s weird to describe but like almost like a soulmate sorta deal, where someone just- Gets You on a level few people can.

He doesn’t take love seriously, which isn’t to say he doesn’t care about it, or even hates it. just means it’s another part of life. So if he does like someone, it just means he’ll do what he always does! Invite someone to go to a rave with him, get frozen yogurt afterward, help practice skateboarding tricks at the park- and somewhere in the middle if he confesses or not, but it doesn’t make much difference to him.

#anon this was super cute thank u for sendin #🧪〈 inbox. 〉#anonymous #⚙️〈 headcanons. 〉─── wingnut #🎤〈 headcanons. 〉─── ray fillet #🛹 〈 headcanons. 〉─── mondo gecko

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ineffable-opinions · 6 months ago

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GMMTV and TrouBLes

What @pandasmagorica is picking up on is a time-honoured BL trope. It has appeared plenty even in live-action BL, in fact it had figured prominently in the first ever BL live-action: Summer Vacation 1999 (1988) based of Hagio Moto’s The Heart of Thomas. I think it is one of the tropes inherited from earlier media including BL’s progenitor tanbi. As is evident it is not a popular trope in 傻白甜 style BL (those with soft and sweet storylines and relationships) that GMMTV produces. That is why the trope seem new to GMMTV audience.

Quick Mention of BL Literacies and GMM TV's Learning Curve

BL kind of has its own language [with words like seme uke riba], which fans use to share ideas and feelings. This secret language is what academics call ‘literacies.’ BL fans are all in on this and have their own ‘ways of behaving, interacting, valuing, thinking, believing, speaking, and often reading and writing’. Through ‘various visual, conceptual and textual literacies’, BL fans weave ‘an intertextual database of narrative and visual tropes which readers draw upon to interpret BL’. BL literacies is learnt through ‘affective hermeneutics – a set way of gaining knowledge through feelings.’ Audience learn BL literacies from BL works ‘which eventually leads to their active engagement’ with other BL fans. (source; Kristine Michelle L. Santos explains it in the context of Japanese BL but it applies to all BL media irrespective of where it is from.)

BL literacies have to be learnt since they are BL specific and BL is a genre with its own conventions that are inaccessible to outsiders. The problem is GMMTV and its BL producers never took the time to delve into the genre deep enough to learn. On top of that GMMTV’s got a BL model set up: the one that involves soft and sweet storylines with a sweet (あまあま) narrative progression. There are alternative narrative progressions. Here are some typical narrative progressions for a (Japanese) BL:

あまあま – sweet

ユニーク – unique

シリアス – serious

邪道 – evil road (Jadō)

王道 - royal road (odo)

Any theme/one-line plot can choose to take any of these narrative progressions. Moreover, Thai BL usually originates online which allows for innovation in narrative progression. Talking of live-action BL... consider KinnPorsche: it ed KinnPorsche on odo while VegasPete ventured on jado. MAME is probably the only one who ventured into BL live-action making business in Thailand with knowledge of BL literacies. There are creators who have put in the effort to learn – a recent example being "F" Nontapat Sriwichai who delved into jado with Love Syndrome: The Beginning before succumbing to cancer. Most Thai BL creators are basically working on products (novels) by authors (producers of BL and BL knowledge) with limited knowledge of their own. That is a little sad since Thailand makes so many BL. Also, this is probably because BL only got popular pretty recently (two-decade or so) in Thailand (compared to Japan where it has been popular for a while now (half-a-century) and more creators are familiar with BL literacies to play around with them or even China where 腐 fu-culture (BL fan culture) has been popular for not so long, yet held wider public attention through superhits and spill-overs) Another reason could be that ‘sweet BL from Thailand’ being an easier produce to sell without having to compete with other countries and their other flavor BL.

In case of GMMTV, its BL formula or preferred route of narrative progression is the first one (あまあま) – the overall flavor would be sweet and relationship progression is pretty smooth (SOTUS, Together, Bad Buddy, My School President). If not, then it would be royal road progression wherein characters have to go through troubles but end up with each other through hard work and perseverance (Dark Blue Kiss, Never Let Me Go). Moonlight Chicken is an example of a BL with ��serious” narrative progression, I guess. Eclipse may be regarded as having taken “unique” route, at least by GMMTV standards. Only Friends unintentionally took the evil road but GMMTV couldn't have that.

There are some reasons behind GMM TV’s slow and sad learning curve – GMMTV learns BL literacies much slower than a lot of other BL producers. The main reasons are tied to its business model itself, based on what Sataporn Panichraksapong (CEO/managing director of GMM TV) informed Thairath newspaper. The formulaic nature of its BL is aimed at an audience (teens to 60-year-olds) interested in feel-good BL. The audience is there to cheer their beloved characters on as they navigate manageable issues. The BL formula or narrative progression exists to offer comforting familiarity for its audience who want to relax and feel happy watching them.

Other than from content (series), GMMTV makes money through merchandize, advertising, fan-meets, etc. For all these and to gain popularity internationally (China, Indonesia, Vietnam, Japan, the Philippines, Singapore and India being main international fan bases and Europe and Latin America being newer markets), GMMTV is banking on their beloved khujin (actor CPs; also known as “branded pair”). It is clear that pairings rather than shows are the money-making parts of GMMTV’s entertainment biz. Series are basically just another activity these actor CPs participate in. That ties into how far GMMTV can and can’t deviate from its BL formula: GMMTV got to keep its audience happy enough to get them to show their appreciation through purchasing power.

But does GMMTV really know what BL fans really want? Not necessarily. They have been very wrong in the past, particularly with what they thought their audience wanted in terms of sexual content.

Sathaporn Panichraksapong, an MD of GMMTV, a major producer of BL series, claimed that audience members who are mainly heterosexual women look for romantic relationships among the characters rather than sexual relationships. We know that our audience are [sic] women. Women want to see only two boys having romantic moments together. They don’t want to see sex. Sexual relationships in BL are for a gay audience. That’s why in SOTUS the Series we have only two kissing scenes. With only these, audiences were already screaming. This is enough for them. (Interview with Sathaporn, GMMTV, 10 Aug. 2017)

Jirattikorn, Amporn. “Heterosexual Reading vs. Queering Thai Boys’ Love Dramas among Chinese and Filipino Audiences.” (2023).

Today, it is clear how wrong GMMTV was from how much more sexual content we are getting from GMMTV itself. So it is clear that GMMTV will learn, albeit super slowly, from other BL creators and tweak if not break out of its BL formula.

The BL Trope in Question

I must highlight that seme/uke/riba simply means top/bottom/versatile in a ship. The idea that “seme/uke representing chaser/chased” is a misattribution teetering on cultural appropriation. There are uke characters who chase (such as yakuza Mitsuo Ichikawa from Double Mints) and there are riba characters who are chased (such as Bai Louyin from Addicted).

One or more characters in a ship being emotional aggressors, physical abusers, sexual predators or outright villains is a very common trope in BL genre. These are popular sub-types (most notable: brute kichiku 鬼畜) of seme/uke/riba with these specific attributes and they have dedicated fans who thoroughly enjoy such characterizations. But these are clearly not everyone’s cup of tea. Some BL fans finds these themes unbearable. That is why GMMTV and other BL live-action producers who don’t want to upset any of their audience members usually:

avoid such characterizations all together especially with sweet narrative progression

tries to soften such characters into more universally palatable forms

tries to redeem those characters by getting rid of those with odo – this is what currently airing My Stand-In would do.

make them villains – never making them the protagonists who gets any kind of happy ending

This is done not to trouble the average audience’s worldview (世界観) and is clearly a low effort and low skill (in terms of BL literacies) approach. But since a lot of audience don’t appreciate villain-like characterization, it is clearly low risk, no chance of a backlash from angry audience and the best method for assured money making.

Occasionally BL live-action producers venture into the risky terrains, especially with jado. The Japanese does it a lot, especially in movie format. China and Taiwan also delve into jado fairly regularly. Live action Thai BL seldom does anything dangerous, except for the few discussed above.

Now about GMMTV’s rendition of that BL trope…

GMMTV cannot veer far away from its BL formula and their formula truly don’t have the grit to afford dangerous characterizations that would upset not only the formula but also its audience. Instead of taking the evil road (jado), GMMTV force villainous characterizations onto character on its formulaic narrative progression. This results in the dissonance that @pandasmagorica talks about. The character might do terrible things (not enough to be a proper evil character) and manipulate the other character in the ship. But won’t feel remorse, apologize and improve for better – this is a violation of the expectation placed on characters on sweet narrative progression. Audience do not expect characters in a ship to be anything but good to each other, especially after they have become a couple. While audience don’t mind characters making mistakes, in this narrative progression audience also expect characters to learn from their mistakes and to grow closer by earning and giving forgiveness.

In BL that focuses on characters being villains, there are no such expectations. These BL work within the confines of their own worldview which don’t necessarily match with our IRL worldview. Characters are allowed to act in ways that goes against our everyday perception of what is right and what is wrong. Neither the characters nor the audience expect the characters to right their wrong, to apologize or to get punished, through judicial procedure or otherwise. Happy endings are not after reparations and resolution of issues, it would be in spite of those. Bad endings aren’t necessarily punishments for bad actions committed throughout the narrative, that’s just the ending of that story. Unlike with the BL with sweet narrative progression, these BL are not necessarily stories of two or more guys falling in love. Neither is their love (if at all there is love) expected to be healthy and wholesome. (It can be wholesome but it is just as well if it is not.) There are expectations from such narrative progressions too and resolution to most issues aren’t among those expectations. Clearly not everyone’s cup of tea, especially if they expect BL to be didactic like fables.

GMMTV fails to reconcile what is expected of its BL and BL’s natural tendency to veer away from the sweet route for the sake of less than wholesome entertainment. Some of the content GMMTV adapts have jado tendencies at its core. While it can stick to the well-trodden route of sweet narrative progression, BL authors and audience appreciate alternative narrative progressions. So, as it tries to churn out 20+ BL per year, GMMTV will be forced to work with novels (and plotlines) with different narrative progressions. What GMMTV can do is to awkwardly tone down uneasy characterization so that it will sit well with its formula.

The problem gets papered over (if they get back together) or never gets resolved (if they don't).

Here @pandasmagorica points to a very popular BL trope done wrong. Problem getting papered over is the expected approach in jado. When characters get together/get back together with the problem or any "problem" never really dealt with, it is proper meriba (merry bad ending). Plain bad ending where there is no resolution is also typical in jado BL. The appearance of this trope in a sweet BL upsets the set-up and leave the audience feeling disappointed. Maybe creators really wanted to try something here but they couldn't.

Moreover, it is difficult to sell BL with jado and other narrative progressions. It becomes even more difficult to sell branded pairings when the characters they play are not impeccable. It is unlikely that actors playing bad guys can sell products for advertisers. (Imagine the characters from The Effect being in ads together!) It is even more unlikely that fans would go broke behind wicked characters and would want to attend fan-meetings and concerts featuring them in some way.

BL producers for GMMTV might someday learn to balance audience and genre expectations. More audience might come to enjoy more than just sweet BL. But until then this friction will probably continue and audience will suffer for it.

As always, all corrections and criticism are welcome.

I am not well-versed in GL tropes, so I avoided talking about them. As far as I know, GL operates on a slightly different wavelength with its genre conventions being very different (sometimes even opposite) than that of BL.

youtube

I didn’t want to lump them together, even when they are both in live action form.

GMMTV has a new QL trope and I am not a happy camper

With the last few series I've watched or partly watched on GMMTV, it would seem there is a new trope. I'm not certain it's a new trope, but I searched @absolutebl for trope posts for at least half an hour and didn't find it, so I don't think I'm totally off about this.

I'm calling it emotional punching bag. Instead of seme/uke representing chaser/chased, it represents emotional aggressor/victim.

The general pattern is this:

Character A gets angry at character B over a real or imagined slight.

A claims to be the victim.

A is unaware (or pretends to be) of any contribution A made to this issue.

B apologizes, whether or not B contributed to the problem.

A never apologizes and never acknowledges their part in the problem.

The problem gets papered over (if they get back together) or never gets resolved (if they don't).

I think it started with Only Friends. Boston (B) gets set up by Atom (A) and is made to be the villian. The truth is revealed. Boston apologizes for his other behavior in the series but nobody apologizes to Boston for him having been set up. Never gets resolved.

Then there's Last Twilight. Mork (B) tries to engage in self-care and Day (A) makes it all about Day and breaks up with Mork. The problem gets papered over when, plot hole, Day wanders through a hotel lobby without the cane he got so he could be more independent and which we never see again, and Mork steps in and helps him, and then they get together and Day gets his eyesight back at the same time with no real narrative resolution. Mork gets back together with Day.

And now we have 23.5. Sun (A) outs Ongsa (B) to Ongsa's parents. Ongsa objects. Sun storms off. Ongsa seeks out Sun and apologizes. Sun breaks up with Ongsa. Ongsa again seeks out Sun and apologizes.

At this point (partway through episode 11, segment 2) I paused the series. I have not intention of going back unless I get word from you Tumblerites that Sun acknowledges her role in all the trouble and apologizes to Ongsa. If they get back together without Sun doing the emotional and reparation work I want no part of it.

And I'm worried. Do I need to wait and binge the rest of Wandee Goodday, which I, as of two episodes, absolutely adore? And this is a boxing series. Is Wandee going to become a literal punching bag?

Do I need to never watch another GMMTV QL series week by week again? Do I have to wait for an all-clear and then binge?

GMMTV, please get your ending act together, I beg of you.

#yaoi #yuri #thai ql #thai bl #thai ql meta #thai bl meta #thai bl series #only friends series #23.5 meta #last twilight meta #bl tropes #bl trivia

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johnandrasjaqobis · 2 years ago

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Okay I don't know your current batch of characters, so from the super detailed character questions list: 15,22,31 for whoever would provide the funniest or most interesting answers.

15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?

out of the space kids i think April is the best cook, but mostly because she had the right mixture of a wide variety of things to cook and the time to practice. It's definitely a relaxing thing, not one she gets a lot of opportunity to do on the base.

Vic is. not great. at anything besides what you can make on a campfire in the middle of the mountains. He can, at the very least, make the regular rations not as immensely boring, given the time, but he's lost in a full kitchen. Definitely something he works at learning now that there is. plenty of time to do so. But he also has to figure out what he was allergic to in Pride's Call. Jack conversely is a genuinely excellent cook, once he knows the layout of the kitchen. He's not great to cook with, somewhat ironically, because people initially tend to assume he'd want help and are incredibly wrong about that. His specialty is fish (and he's incredibly picky about the quality of said fish) and it's gotten to the point that he's kind of the designated cook at the house. He'll take requests to an extent but also dear gods why would you do it like that, no look there's a much better way, give me twenty minutes --

22. What are their favourite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back?

Murphy for the most part is immensely polite and professional to everyone. Until they leave. And then it's immediate muttering of sun-scorched morons, trying to teach me how to do my own fucking job and then instant professionalism slapped on again for the next one. (Nathic insults have a lot about the sun they are. not fans) similarly April being the epitome of Technically Royalty is very adept at the political passive aggression and excellent at maintaining nothing but the epitome of cordiality until the person is walking away, at which point it's the gritted teeth grinning and go sit on a beach, buddy Ilharess (now Rika) is kind of the opposite in that she knows how to be very politically polite and follow noble proprieties and actively chooses not to, much to the chagrin of...almost everyone else. Three lifetimes have given her a very wide range of insults in multiple languages and sometimes it's as simple as I am a Light-chosen motherfucking Zolaed and I can end you (always at least a tiny bit funny coming from this little goblin lady)

31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing?

Joseph is the first to come to mind because practically every version of him at least starts out never drinking. He's fine hanging out with friends who are, he'll make sure no one is too stupid about it, but he's got his own hangups and is happy to act as the one sober guy keeping Nate from getting into a bar fight. Absolutely will give people shit for being hungover, though, every time. Vic doesn't drink often at all; he's got the lingering paranoia of letting anything make him slower or less able to keep an eye on things. The few times he does he is a very...contemplative drunk, a lot of staring into middle distance and coming to very abrupt revelations that vary in their validity. Most of the time he's the one making sure people get to bed safely, making sure they have at least some water, using the knowledge that he can be a genuinely intimidating presence to keep the creeps at bay Jarek I feel is an immense lightweight. He considers it an advantage because it's effectively much cheaper to get drunk when he does want to. There has been one (1) time he went drinking with friends on a station that had somewhat lower gravity and still cites that as an "I nearly died" experience because he will attempt to go around and talk to Everyone about Something and the low gs threw off the already terrible balance with every step. His boyfriend cherishes the bits of video he got of that ordeal. The hangover period is just locked in a very dark room in sub-human state with nothing but vague grumbling until the pain killers kick in.

#thank u friend it was entertaining running through the long list of characters #i miss the space kids they're such a funny group

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calaofnoldor · 4 years ago

Text

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, ��What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

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audreydoeskaren · 3 years ago

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Thank you for posting a review on the book Evolution & Revolution Chinese Dress 1700s - 1990s. It’s so disappointing how the book potentially could’ve been good. What are your favorite books on Chinese fashion history?

Hi, great that you found the review useful! To be completely honest, I haven't really read any books on Chinese fashion before I started this blog, because I mostly used online resources like museums' websites, archaeology reports and other blogs. I actually started this blog in the hopes that people might recommend me some books😅 And I only ever read about the Ming, Qing and republican era so my knowledge is very limited.

Anyway, here are some books people recommended to me that I found great, some that I'm currently reading and some I know to be objectively good:

Ming Dynasty

Q版大明衣冠图志 (2011) 董进著

A classic made by the popular fashion history blogger 撷芳主人 (real name Dong Jin), this book is the ultimate compilation of Ming Dynasty looks illustrated by the most adorable drawings. It has basically everything you need to know about Ming Dynasty garments from informal civilian fashion and theater costumes to the most formal court dress and military uniforms. My only quibble with this book is that it doesn’t specify the decade/year each look is from, giving the false impression that everything could be worn throughout the Ming Dynasty (I heard that he did specify some eras in the new version? I don’t have it so I’m not sure). You can follow the author on Weibo where he regularly posts stuff about the Ming Dynasty, or check out other books and articles written by him. Even if you don’t have the book, you could probably find images of individual entries on the internet. Unfortunately all of it is in Chinese and no English version is available :(

华夏衣冠中国古代服饰文化 (2016) 孙机著

More of a collection of essays Sun Ji wrote on historical Chinese clothing from a variety of eras, I got it for the chapters on Ming Dynasty xiapei 霞帔 and headwear. Professional, academic language that is still easy to read, plenty of references and neatly traced line drawings of artifacts. Useful diagrams on the structure of 狄髻 diji. However if I remember correctly, Sun had some beef with Dong Jin on the terminology of parts of diji, not sure if that was ever resolved; here’s an article about that. Also only in Chinese (that I know of).

Qing Dynasty

Chinese Reverse Glass Painting 1720-1820 (2020) by Thierry Audric

This is the book form transcript of a dissertation given by the author in 2016. It's more Chinese painting than Chinese fashion but has a lot of wonderful images of 18th century export paintings (with dates even), which depicted fashion realistically. I love 18th century export art in general, they're really beautiful and unusual so I would recommend everybody to check them out. I love this because Chinese oil painting outside of a court context (and all other forms of art that were not literati painting e.g. woodblock print, lithograph, pen and ink illustration) gets very little attention from Chinese art historians. This book could be downloaded for free in pdf form the publisher Peter Lang.

A Fashionable Century: Textile Artistry and Commerce in the Late Qing (2020) by Rachel Silberstein

This book focuses on the 19th century and has some interesting insights on the impact of commercial workshops on Qing fashion, which is a welcome break from the “dragon robes” and women’s domestic work stereotyped in most literature on the Qing. It has rich descriptions of the decoration patterns and fabrics used in the 19th century, accompanied by paintings and photographs. It did kind of fall into the trap of “the late Ming continued into the early Qing” and just dismissed the 18th century altogether, which is a shame. Silberstein’s dating of several prints also appears somewhat incorrect, but it’s still a very useful analysis of the 19th century nonetheless. I read this for free on JSTOR through my university login.

Cinderella’s Sisters: A Revisionist History of Footbinding (2005) by Dorothy Ko

This book is absolutely epic and an undeniable classic on the subject. Ko masterfully avoids all the surface level problematic takes on footbinding and offers an extremely nuanced, extremely well researched overview on the history of footbinding in the Ming, Qing and republican eras, the reasons for its popularity and demise, with a most interesting analysis of the problems with the way people in the republican era went about the abolition of it. The book is more heavy on the social analysis side but also contains a lot of factual description of the process of footbinding, styles popular in different eras etc. I just love how she approaches the topic in the most factual and non-emotionally charged way possible, which is refreshing considering the sheer volume of literature on footbinding that is just brainless condemnation without any nuance, a lot of which also unconsciously perpetuate misogynistic ideas rather than combat them. I don’t know of a way to read this for free, I bought it from Amazon.

Every Step a Lotus (2001) by Dorothy Ko

I haven’t read this yet but apparently it works well as a supplement to Cinderella’s Sisters. Also on footbinding.

China Trade Painting 1750s to 1880s (2014) by Jack S C Lee / 中国外销画 1750s - 1880s 李世庄著

Another book on export art, focusing more on the established painters. Lee digs a bit more into the painters’ experiences and biographies, with big portions on George Chinnery and Lam Qua, but also includes plenty of portraits and scenery paintings depicting men’s clothing and the architecture of the studios at the Guangzhou factories (十三行). It’s great because the paintings included were super realistic and well made with accurate proportions and anatomy----the quality on a par with those produced by the European academies----so they contemplate conventional Chinese portraits made in the same era in showing how the clothing fits on the body. Again I bought this book second hand from Amazon.

----

I don’t know of any reliable books for republican era fashion because for some reasons most discourse on it is centered around the glorification and mystification of the cheongsam... Fortunately, due to the abundance of extant originals and photographs, books are largely not necessary for the research of republican era fashion :3

There are some other books and articles that were recommended to me but I haven’t yet read: x, x

@fouryearsofshades also made a post recently recommending books and it covers other time periods as well.

If anyone knows any other books on the Ming, Qing or republican era please tell me regardless of good or bad. I need to read more😅

#book review #historic fashion #chinese fashion #fashion history #vintage fashion #chinese history #ming dynasty #qing dynasty #hanfu #清汉女装 #book rec #chinese painting #foot binding

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glowingbadger · 3 years ago

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Hi! Could you do SFW and NSFW relationship headcanons for Raphael and Hubert, please?

(P.S. I swear I sent this in a few weeks ago but you must not have gotten it. I am mortified at the chance I accidentally sent it to another blog!)

Your timing is incredible- your request was literally the next one on my list haha :3 So no worries, it got to the right place! I'm just still catching up a bit lol. Let's talk Raph and Hubie!

Raphael, Hubert x GN Reader

SFW (nsfw below the cut)

Raphael:

- Raphael is such an absolute sweetie as a boyfriend. He's very nurturing and just a healthy level of protective, but he also knows that he's not perfect and is willing to listen to you when you need something different from him, or just to vent. He's also endlessly uplifting, always instinctively looking on the bright side of things and eager to open up that sunny perspective to share with you.

- As we all know, the way to Raph's heart is through his stomach. If you're even a little skilled in the kitchen, you've got an easy in to spending time with him whenever you like. If you're not much of a cook, he's happy to be a taste-tester until you've got it figured out. Though it's not like his palette is incredibly refined, so you might not get the most nuanced feedback.

- It is essential that you meet his little sister's approval- it's practically like courting a single father. Her happiness is his utmost priority, so one day when she mentions off hand that she can't wait for you all to spend time together again, he practically starts tearing up and warmth fills his chest. Knowing that you get along with the other most important person in his life just reaffirms his affections for you a thousand fold.

- His idea of a date pretty much always involves food, and with his energetic and warm personality, those kinds of dates are easy to enjoy. If you suggest other ideas though, while he might not be sure it's his "thing" at first, he'll quickly find something to get excited about and invested in. Besides, when he's with you, he has a hard time caring about anything but watching you just be your wonderful self, all with a wide, goofy smile on his face.

Hubert:

- Hubert quietly dotes on you. His love language is absolutely acts of service. This is largely because he finds it so hard to believe- practically disorienting- that you'd want to be with him of all people. As such, he does everything in his power to ensure that you're provided for. You may not even realize the lengths he's willing to go to for some time, as he has a habit of doing helpful or sweet things for you without your knowledge. Maybe it takes a vaguely threatening "chat" with some disrespectful knave who's been trying to get your attention, or perhaps there's a tear in your favorite shirt that he has sent to be repaired without ever mentioning it. Hubert doesn't seek praise- only your happiness.

- that said... He does absolutely melt when you do praise or compliment him. He does his best to appear stoic, but his face turns bright red when you tell him how lucky you are to be with someone so considerate and conscientious. Funnily, when he's riding high on his adoration for you (whatever you would call Hubert's version of feeling warm and fuzzy), not much changes other than that he's less conversational, appearing exceptionally introspective. The truth is just that he can't stop thinking of you and this bizarre feeling you've nurtured in him.

- he will NEVER admit this and will strike fear into the soul of any who would suggest it- but when others give him romantic advice, he does take note. When Edelgard suggests he have flowers sent to you for no particular reason, or Ferdinand recommends he take you riding through the countryside on a particularly lovely day, he does consider them and possibly even follow through.

- listen. The first time Hubert returns to his quarters from a late night "mission" to see you waiting up for him, struggling to stay awake to greet him and make sure he's okay, he's just... A puddle. He holds you so close and so tight, resting his face in your hair without a word. He's simply so overwhelmed that he should ever be so fortunate as to be welcomed home by someone he loves.

NSFW 18+ v

Raphael:

- Raph is a Big Boy and a Strong Boy, and those two facts are never more relevant than when things start getting heated. He's had one or two prior sexual partners (people from his hometown who came onto him- he enjoyed it well enough, but he's WAY more into it after falling for you), so he generally knows what he's doing, but likes a bit of guidance. He worries a lot about hurting you, but also enjoys showing off his strength and stamina for you- so letting you set the pace tends to work best overall.

- He openly loves it when you compliment his muscles and physique, reminding him of just how big and strong he is compared to you and how easily he lifts and positions you. Hearing it from your lips energizes him and makes him more determined than ever to pleasure you and take care of any and all of your needs. He's a bit clumsy about some of the finer operations involved- but honestly, sometimes it's hot enough just to feel his large and powerful fingers spreading you open. It's hard to lament his lack of dexterity when he can so easily fill you and reach your every sensitive spot at once.

- He's really not much one for power-play, or any kind of spicy roleplay. He simply doesn't see the point. Raphael would always rather just tell you openly how amazing and gorgeous you are as you ride his big, thick cock. You're so small even when you're above him, and he can't help wanting to hold you as your stretched out little hole takes him again and again.

- Raphael can resist cumming for a long time for the privilege of getting to fuck as many orgasms out of you as possible. He's got some impressive stamina. He'll lift and reposition you several times, then very carefully ease his huge member back into you, giving you plenty of time to acclimate to him filling you up from a new angle. There's no question that you'll be satisfied by the time he finally cums- but once he's done, he's done. Raphael cums hard, and a good volume, and once he's ridden out his climax, all he wants is to cuddle you on his broad chest and maybe share a snack, then drift off for a nap together.

Hubert:

- I've talked about some general spicy ideas for Hubie before in the past, so definitely check my masterlist for those (I love this miserable bastard so fucking much-). Overall, I see him as a classic, domineering Dom in the bedroom. Hubert needs a certain level of control over everything in his life to feel even a little at-ease, and intimacy is no exception. It won't take long into a relationship with him for it to become clear that he's happiest and most satisfied when you're a good, docile little pet for him.

- It's not extremely obvious at first, but Hubert's body is very sensitive and very touch-shy, simply due to lack of exposure. He's had a few sexual partners, though largely for pragmatic, political purposes, so the experience of being with you and wanting so badly to be truly intimate with you is completely new to him. Add this to the fact that, at his core, he still believes you deserve so much better than he could ever give you in all things, and you've got yourself a complex over-thinker in your bed. This is part of why dominating you is so soothing to him. When you're his personal needy kitten, he can direct you as he pleases, catering your treatment to his comfort level.

- Hubert gets very invested in the finer details of your submission. He takes great care to select a collar custom made for you, and will manage everything from your posture to your line of sight to when you're allowed to cum. He does not suffer brats; misbehaving will result in literal hours of punishment, and you're lucky if it only amounts to spanking. He's much more likely to tie you, or even magically restrain you on his bed completely exposed (or in a shamefully erotic outfit) and tease your clit/head of your cock until tears wet your eyes and you beg him to be allowed to cum.

- That all said, if you're a very, very good pet for him- or if you're someone a bit more shy or anxious in bed, he is capable of being a very soft and caring Dom. This even surprises him, but he can't help brushing a gloved hand to your cheek as you take his cock into your pretty lips, and he murmurs, "That's right, my dearest, just like that. You're doing wonderfully- just a little longer for me and I swear that I'll satisfy you."

#raphael kirsten #hubert von vestra #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #feh #raphael x reader #hubert x reader #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem smut #fluff and smut #fire emblem headcanons

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drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

Text

One of Them Girls

Angel Reyes x Reader

Request by @lakamaa12: I have a request.. if you don't want to do it, no worries (or it's been done by another blog and I missed it).I was wondering if you would consider writing something with Angel based around the song One of Them Girls by Lee Brice?

(Part 2 can be found Here)

Warnings: language, alcohol, Angel being the cutie we know he is

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: To the best of my knowledge, no one else has written an Angel fic for this song yet! If you have and I didn’t see it, my bad! But real talk I’ve been obsessed with this song lately and I wanted to write a fic for it so I’m super glad you sent this my way. Hope you enjoy! xo

Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce @helli4nthus @angelreyesgirl @starrynite7114 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @amandinesblogofstuff @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @encounterthepast @lilacyennefer @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx (If you want to be tagged let me know! xo)

Your roommate had been trying for months to get you to go to one of the MC parties with her. She knew them from working at Vicki’s and she swore that you would have a good time if you just came to the clubhouse with her.

“Just for a couple hours,” she pleaded as she stood in the doorway to your room, “and if you’re really not having a good time, we can leave and I’ll never bother you about it again. Promise.”

You sighed, leaning your head back against your headboard, “Fine. Just so you won’t bother me about it anymore.”

She beamed, “Yes! Oh this is gonna be so fun,” you could practically see the thoughts racing through her head, “Wear those skinny jeans that make your butt look good.”

You groaned, “You’re gonna dress me, too?”

She laughed, “It’s just a friendly suggestion.”

It was a suggestion that you begrudgingly took her up on. She really wasn’t that pushy about what to wear, but she knew that she was able to nudge you out of your comfort zone a little bit sometimes. You’d ended up with a simple, low-cut black tank top, the jeans she had suggested, and a pair of black boots. You weren’t going to risk snapping your ankle in a pair of heels when you didn’t know what you’d be walking into.

Elena may have been persistent, but she was a woman of her word. She stayed by you when you first arrived, knowing the scene was a little overwhelming when you first walk into it. You weren’t quite sure what you had been expecting, but this wasn’t quite what you had pictured in your mind. It was a little tamer, a little less chaotic than your brain had been telling you it would be.

“C’mon,” she tugged you towards the bar, “I’ll get you a beer.”

“Elena, who are all these people?” you asked quietly as you scanned the room.

She started pointing out the members of the MC one by one, telling you their names and a few fun facts about each. Some of the facts were a little more information than you cared to know, but she got you to laugh. Some of the girls you recognized because they’d come over and hang out at your apartment sometimes, and it was nice to know that you knew more than just one person at the party. They said there was power in numbers, right?

“Hey, querida,” a voice piped up from behind the two of you.

Elena turned, a smile instantly spreading across her face as she walked up to the man who had been speaking to her and letting him scoop her up in a hug, “Angel, hey!”

He set her down and his eyes found their way over to you. You felt small under the weight of his gaze but you tried not to let it show. He glanced back to Elena, “You brought a friend?”

She laughed, nodding, “Angel, this is my roommate, and best friend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Angel, the biggest pain in the ass in the MC.”

He placed a hand over his chest, an exaggeratedly pained expression on his face, “Right to my heart.”

The three of you laughed and you shook your head slightly, the nerves beginning to dissipate a little bit. You weren’t expecting him to plop down on the stool next to yours, but he did. You looked over to Elena, as if to ask if you should be worried about anything. She flashed you a smile as she sat down on the other side of you, giving your arm a light, reassuring squeeze as she reached for her drink.

“So what questionable decisions led you here tonight?” he asked with a laugh as he took a swig of his beer.

You laughed, shaking your head, “Just throwing Elena a bone. She’s been wanting me to come here with her for a while.”

“Didn’t want to be hanging out with a bunch of degenerates?” there was a playful smirk on his face.

You smiled, “More like I didn’t want to be hanging out with a bunch of people in general,” you laughed, “I’m a bit of a homebody.”

“I’m working on that,” Elena piped in with a smile.

The three of you sat at the bar and talked for a little while. You could tell that Angel was trying to get a read on you, the new girl. You couldn’t be mad because you were doing the same thing to him. He was smooth, flirtatious, but not overbearingly so. That was a game you’d be willing to play for the night while you pacified your friend. If you were going to be forced to socialize, there were worse people to look at while doing it.

Elena must’ve gotten the vibe from you, because she politely excused herself from the conversation, letting you know that she wouldn’t be far if you decided that you wanted to bail and go home. You saw the smirk tugging at her lips as she walked away though, knowing that you were having a much better time there than you’d ever admit.

“So I gotta know,” Angel asked as he idly toyed with the beer bottle in his hands, “how does a homebody like you end up rooming with Miss “Life of the Party” Elena?”

You laughed, trying not to stare at the way his ringed fingers traced and curled around the neck of his beer bottle, “We actually had a few classes together our first year in college,” you shook your head, “Nothing bonds two people together like suffering through statistics classes together.”

He chuckled, “Fuck that.”

“That was exactly how we felt.”

The longer the two of you talked, the more he tested his boundaries. He wasn’t pushy, or inappropriate, but he was definitely trying to figure out what made you tick. You weren’t going to give him that kind of satisfaction so quickly, though. You bantered back and forth with him, and you couldn’t remember the last time a guy had you laughing so hard.

Angel was in the middle of an incredibly cheesy pickup line that he swore has worked for him before when the song coming through the speakers changed. You couldn’t help but to perk up a little bit at the familiar beat and Angel noticed the shift immediately. He watched you for a moment as he tried to feel out the situation.

“Wanna dance?”

You shook your head no with zero hesitation, “No thank you.”

He laughed, “C’mon, why not? Live a little.”

You smiled but didn’t move to get up from your stool, “I’m sure there are plenty of women here tonight that would love to dance with you, Angel.”

He didn’t push the topic any further. You were smiling but he could see the flash of emotion in your eyes and he knew that there was something there that you weren’t ready to tap into yet with him. So, instead, he got you another beer and delved back into his cheesy pickup line story. When you realized that he was going to move past what you just said and not make it awkward, the tension immediately melted out of your body. You gladly took the beer bottle from him as you listened him ramble into another story.

“Yo, Angel,” Coco called from the pool table, “get over here. Bring your friend, we need two more.”

“You play pool?” Angel asked you, curious to your answer.

You shrugged as you hopped off the stool, “I mean I know how to.”

He laughed as he followed you across the clubhouse, “That’s not a super reassuring answer, querida.”

“Man, fuck him. You can be on my team,” Coco said with a laugh, “He and Gilly can fend for themselves.”

There was something reassuring and welcoming about the way that Coco spoke to you—like he had known you for years. He handed you your pool stick, smile still plastered onto his face. This wasn’t how you had originally pictured your night going, but you weren’t upset about it.

About halfway through the game, Angel was pissed that he didn’t try to team up with you. You and Coco were on a hot-streak and he really didn’t expect that from you. He shook his head as you sank another shot, and you had to laugh at the way that Coco was able to effectively gloat with just a simple look thrown Angel’s way.

“I mean I know how to,” Angel mocked you with a laugh as he shook his head, watching you line up to take another shot, “Can’t believe you fuckin’ hustled me.”

You laughed, “I don’t think you can call it hustling if there’s no money involved. You’re just mad because we’re about to whoop your ass.”

He chuckled and glanced over at Coco, “Don’t look so smug, Coco. She’s fuckin’ carrying you right now.”

The game wrapped up quickly with you and Coco both doing so well. Gilly had been more than content to sit back and watch it all happen, reveling in the fact that someone, and someone new at that, was kicking Angel’s ass at pool. Angel was shaking his head as he set his stick aside, still trying to figure out how all of that just happened. For someone who claimed that they didn’t like going out and doing things, you seemed to be full of surprises.

“Since I am a gracious winner,” you said with a laugh as you let Coco put your stick away, “I’ll buy you all a drink.”

Angel went to protest, not wanting you to be buying anything for any of them, but Gilly slapped his chest to stop him. The look on Gilly’s face made it very evident that no matter how cute the girl was, none of them were about to be turning down free drinks. Angel laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

As the night wore on, slowly but surely people began to trickle out of the clubhouse. You hadn’t really talked to Elena since you got wrapped up playing pool with the guys, but the two of you kept an eye on one another. Every now and then she’d shoot you a look, one that asked if you needed to get out, and you would just shake your head. She’d smile, sometimes throw you a wink, before getting wrapped back up into whatever she was doing. You knew that she was just glad to get you out of the house and socializing with people.

You and Angel were sitting next to each other on the couch talking, keeping your conversation low in the midst of music and noise still filling the clubhouse. You were shaking your head at him as he told you about some of the scrapes he’d gotten into with his brother, someone that you knew you’d also love to sit and have a conversation with eventually.

Elena walked up and gave you a nudge, smiling when you turned to her, “Not trying to rush you, but I think a couple of the girls and I are gonna head out. You want me to bring you home before I go with them?”

Truthfully, you didn’t want to leave. But she was your ride, so it wasn’t like you were going to have much of a choice. Just as you were about to speak up and say you’d get ready to leave, Angel interrupted, “I can take you home if you want.”

You glanced back at him, arching one eyebrow, “Oh?”

“Yea,” he shrugged, smiling, “I don’t mind.”

Elena bit at her bottom lip, trying to fight back a smile, “You good with that, Y/N?”

You nodded, “Yea, I think so,” you laughed, “Worst case scenario I have pepper spray in my bag.”

“Jesus,” Angel laughed.

Elena shook her head with a grin as she leaned down to kiss your cheek, “Text me when you’re home. Love you.”

“Love you too. Text when you get to wherever the hell you guys are all going,” you chuckled.

“Will do,” she turned and hugged Angel, “Get her home safe, or I’ll beat your ass.”

He nodded, trying hard not to laugh because he knew that she was serious, “Yes ma’am.”

When she was gone and it was just the two of you again, things felt a little different. You suddenly became very aware of the way that his arm was draped over the back of the couch, his fingers almost brushing against your shoulder. Despite the number of people that were still in the clubhouse, it felt like it was just you two left. Everything else felt farther away.

“Can I ask where you’re from?” he leaned in a little closer to you and took a sip of his beer, “Because I feel like you’re not from around here.”

You smiled, shaking your head, “I’m not. I’m from the East Coast—came out this way for college,” you laughed, “Very cliché, I know.”

“Ah, you’re one of them girls, huh?”

“Who are them girls?” you chuckled.

“Had to get the hell outta dodge?”

You smiled and nodded, not really wanting to get into the details of your decisions, “Something like that.”

“You musta broke a lot of hearts when you left,” there was a smirk tugging at his lips.

You laughed, “Wouldn’t know—haven’t been back to find out.”

Somewhere along the line of your conversation, the two of you had gotten very comfortable. You had your legs pulled up underneath you as you leaned into him, his hand resting lightly on the nape of your neck. Every now and then when you laughed your hand would come to rest on his thigh for a moment or two before you pulled it back to your own body. He wasn’t bold enough to say it but he wished that you’d leave it there.

There was a brief lull in the conversation and you looked around the clubhouse, seeing that the two of you were some of the last people there. You checked your phone, seeing that you had gotten the safety update from your roommate almost an hour before and hadn’t noticed from being so enthralled with Angel.

“You got that look on your face like you gotta get going,” Angel said knowingly.

You sighed, “Yea, unfortunately I still have to go and do life stuff tomorrow,” there was a hint of laughter to your voice.

His thumb traced idly along the exposed skin at the base of your neck, “We can take the bike, if you want.”

You pressed your lips together for a moment, “I’ve never ridden on one before.”

He chuckled as he rose to his feet, helping you to do the same, “Something tells me you’ll be fine.”

The two of you walked out of the clubhouse, Angel’s hand settling on the small of your back. The chilly night air hit your skin and sent a chill through you. Without a second thought, Angel peeled off his sweatshirt that he’d put on and handed it over to you. You started to shake your head no but he wordlessly pushed the hoodie into your hands. You gave in with a smile, pulling it down over your head. It was warm, and you were practically swimming in the fabric, but you didn’t mind.

He let you use his helmet, and you settled behind him after climbing onto the bike. Your hands were lightly resting on his waist and he pulled your arms tighter around him, causing you to press flush up against his back.

“Don’t be shy, querida,” he chuckled, “For your own safety as much as anything else.”

You laughed, thankful that he couldn’t see the sheepish smile on your face as you let your body rest against his. The bike came to life underneath you and you nervously wrapped your arms a little tighter around him, and you could feel him laughing despite the fact that you couldn’t hear him over the noise of the bike.

Slowly you eased into the ride, your nerves subsiding a little bit. Angel must’ve felt the tension dissipating because he picked up the speed a little bit, causing you to laugh and tighten your hold on him. You knew that Angel knew the way to yours and Elena’s apartment, so you knew that he was taking the long way there. As much as you wanted to call him out on it, you didn’t want him to think that you minded. It was a peaceful, freeing feeling to be riding with him.

He rolled to a stop in front of your apartment building. You hopped off the bike, handing him back his helmet. The two of you stood there and you knew that he could feel the same type of tension in the air that you felt. For a night that you really hadn’t been looking forward to, it was the best time that you’d had in a while.

You went to take his sweatshirt off to give back to him but he shook his head at you, “Nah, keep it.”

“You sure?”

He nodded with a smirk on his face, “Yea. Just give it back next time I see you.”

You smiled, “Next time? Who said I’m coming back to the clubhouse?”

He laughed and shook his head, “Damn, you and Elena are both out to keep my ego in check, huh?”

“It’s good for you,” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, trying to ignore the fact that you felt nervous, trying to figure out how to say goodnight.

“But really,” he stepped in a little closer to you, forcing you to tilt your head up slightly to look him in the eye, “I’d really like to be able to see you again.”

You managed to keep a straight face for a few seconds, just long enough to make him nervous. You could see him racing to try and come up with a follow-up statement to get himself out of being rejected, and you let yourself smile as you nodded, “I’d like that.”

He let out an audible sigh of relief, “Had me worried for a second,” he chuckled.

You laughed, shaking your head, “Can’t make it too easy for you.”

He smiled, “Can I have your number? Or do I gotta level up for that?”

You rolled your eyes as you held your hand out, “Give me your phone before I change my mind.”

He chuckled as he dug it out of his pocket and pressed it into the palm of your hand. He watched you intently as you plugged your number in, smiling as you handed it back to him, “This your real number? Or one of those rejection hotlines?”

You smirked, “Guess you’ll have to call me and find out. One time I gave some dude the number that would just play the John Cena theme song over and over again. That was…peak rejection.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring for me, you get that, right?” he laughed.

You smiled and shook your head, “It’s my real number, promise,” you stood up on your tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek, “Thanks for bringing me home.”

He couldn’t hide that he was surprised by the gesture. A huge smile spread across his face as he nodded, “Yea, any time.”

“Get home safe.”

He nodded, “I will,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you crossed your arms over your chest, trapping the heat against your body as you watched him get back on his bike and strap his helmet on. He flashed you another smile and you waved him off.

You let out a small sigh of contentment as you turned around and made your way into your building. The walk up to your apartment seemed much shorter as you replayed the night over in your head. You turned the key in the lock and stepped in, glad to be home but simultaneously wishing that the night wasn’t over yet. You showered and threw your pajamas on, falling into your bed with a happy sigh. After shutting the light off and settling in underneath your blanket, your phone buzzed on your nightstand. You reached over to see who it was, and smiled when you saw a message waiting for you from a new number.

“Home safe. Sweet dreams” after a few seconds a second text came in, “It’s Angel by the way”

You chuckled as you typed out your reply, ‘Thanks for the clarification. Got worried for a second”

“Just tryna be sweet and you can’t let me have it, can you?”

“Nope” you were laughing in the quiet darkness of your room.

“Alright. Sweet nightmares then. Goodnight”

You could picture his face and you couldn’t stop smiling, “Goodnight xo”

You set your phone off to the side again, settling back down underneath your covers. Your body wanted to sleep but your brain was too busy replaying the entire night over again and you couldn’t stop smiling.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x you #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fanfic #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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sporticus1234 · 3 years ago

Text

Catch Me if You Can-Laws of Attraction (Part 2) 🍋

Summary: After weeks of flirting, teasing, and close calls, Tessa is ready to take the plunge, but can Gabe overcome his own worse fears and join her?

Pairing: Gabe Ricci x Main Character (Tessa Michaels)

Link to my Master-List and Other works will be added once they have been re-edited and re-uploaded.

Catch up with Part 1 Here: Part 1

WARNING: The following story has a 🍋 rating, meaning there will be topics of

NSFW

Smut

Strong Language

By viewing of this work, you are acknowledging and consenting to the fact that you are 18+ years of age and can view such works.

Tagging: @choices-addict @choiceskatie @lady-calypso @chemist-ana @kat-tia801 @chrissythomas05-blog @nishas-paradise @blainehellyes @suitfer @pixelnutrookie @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @adiehardfan @panda9511 @curiousconch @weaving-in-words @mm2305 @thegreentwin

I love you all so much, and I will see you again soon!

_________________________

If you hesitate, opportunities will pass by you So open your heart and come out -Girls Generation, The Boys (Korean Ver.)

The hotel café the following morning was full of delicious, mouth-watering smells and buzzing conversations of the guests milling around, families excitedly planning for the day ahead or business associates discussing their upcoming ventures and other current events. In the back corner of the room next to the sheer curtains covering the early morning Boston sun, Gabe Ricci halfheartedly pokes his fork around the scrambled mess of eggs barely eaten in front of him, his head resting on a propped fist as his eyes struggle to stay open as a dull headache thumps in his head. He lifts his fork to take another bite of eggs, but his stomach lurches at the sight, and he drops the fork with a clatter. He reaches out to pour himself another cup of coffee, but he curses under his breath when he realizes the pot he ordered was empty. He tries to catch the attention of a passing waiter, but his eyes instead slide to a couple sitting a few tables away from him, their fingers laced together on the table as they share an intimate conversation punctuated by giggles and kisses across the other’s knuckles. The sight makes his stomach ache in guilt as the events of last night play like a never-ending repeat of a bad movie in his mind.

He knows there is no one else to blame; he is the one solely responsible for the shitty mess between him and Tessa. If he just gave her the obvious answer last night, he wouldn’t be sitting in the back corner on the verge of a hangover and close to passing out in his eggs. Instead, the two of them would be upstairs in his suite, her hair splayed out over one of the pillows as their limbs tangle together underneath the soft sheets draping over their naked bodies. Or, they would be eating breakfast in bed and watching the sun rise behind the towering skyscrapers as they share intimate little details about each other. Yet here he was, sitting down here and looking pathetically ridiculous as he stares a hole into his eggs like they held the answer to the question of why he was down here and not upstairs.

But Gabe already knows why he is sitting down here.

He is afraid that Tessa would reject him once things got serious.

Gabe Ricci, the man who stares down opposing attorneys and judges in a packed courtroom is afraid of something like rejection from a woman. The man who is confidently sure of himself and goes toe to toe with some of the greatest legal minds of the current day is afraid of being told “no.” The whole situation seems entirely laughable, and Gabe would completely understand if people saw it that way. But those people didn’t know about the one specific incident all those years ago that completely changed the course of his life and made him the way he is today.

Gabe considers himself to be an “all or nothing” person, devoting one hundred percent of himself to everything in his life, whether it was his job, himself, his relationships, and even his love life. It was his “all or nothing”, caring attitude that brought him to the door of the New York Public Defender’s office. Being a public defender was never going to be a smooth sailing job, but even with the obstacles in front of him, Gabe still defended his clients with everything he had. But at the end of the day, his “all or nothing” attitude was still not enough. He had little to no victories to back up his expertise and knowledge, and the passion he had for the legal field dwindled with every “guilty” verdict that felt like a swift punch to the gut. The workload was becoming overbearing with each passing year, and eventually, Gabe started questioning his own abilities and confidence. He found himself trapped in a never-ending nightmare with no chance of escape.

Even though his job was becoming a literal hell, he could always count on the one bright spot in his life at the time.

Katrina.

Katrina was everything Gabe hoped to find in a partner. She was kind, intelligent, caring. The two of them had an incredible whirlwind romance, and Gabe felt like he was walking on Cloud Nine when she was around. She was the one person who made everything feel better after a hard day. She was the one person who motivated him to push forward, encouraging him and giving him belief that one day, things would become better than what they were. She was the first person Gabe had met who he truly believed shared his same attitude of “all or nothing”, and their relationship grew more serious with each passing day. The future of their relationship came to a head one night in Central Park, where Gabe found himself on one knee in front of her with a glittering diamond ring in his hand, ready to fully go “all in” and spend the rest of his life with her. However, two little words made the intense romance they once shared fizzle out and leave his spirits firmly crushed. She rejected him in Central Park, and a week later, she moved out of his apartment and out of his life, the two of them unable to rekindle the romance they once shared despite their best efforts.

The pain of her rejection made him a closed-off shell of his former self. He never socialized after work or on the weekends unless he absolutely had to, and if he did, he hardly spoke to anyone unless the situation called for it. His work continued to suffer as he couldn’t find the heart and motivation to defend his clients as well as he knew he could. But one day after a trial, Sadie McGraw cornered him and offered him a second chance, a chance to start over and become the lawyer she knew he could become. With her help and guidance, Gabe slowly started rediscovering himself as a lawyer. The power she had given him combined with his knowledge and expertise pulled in big wins for the firm and moved him up towards the top ranks of McGraw Byrne. He was rediscovering his passion for the legal field and helping others. People began to congratulate him on his wins and praise his incredible devotion to the firm.

While he wouldn’t argue his devotion to the job, it wasn’t the sole reason he stayed long nights or came to work early in the morning. Every time he went back to his apartment after work, the sliver of happiness he felt and the boisterous conversations of the office became replaced by dreaded loneliness and cold quietness. The solitary confines of his apartment were a constant, mocking reminder of what he didn’t have anymore, a reminder of her rejection all those years ago. The office became a safe space of sorts for him, and he dreaded leaving its comfort. With the company’s generosity, Gabe secured a new, better apartment where he could make new memories and not be constantly reminded of bitter ones. The one thing the company couldn’t help him with was finding the one person who made him feel even a tenth of what Katrina made him feel. He never shied away from going out on dates as he attempted to move on with his life, but no one understood his passion, commitment, and devotion the way Katrina did. Plenty of people managed to catch his attention, but no one came close enough to keep it.

Until Tessa walked through the doors.

Gabe had discovered her the same way Sadie did, and he knew she would be a perfect addition to McGraw Byrne when Sadie opened up spots on the team. He had firsthand knowledge of her legal expertise, and he knew she fully devoted herself to her clients and used the knowledge she continued to learn in order to help them. However, while she managed to capture his attention, she was the only one who managed to keep it. She is incredibly beautiful; there was no denying that fact. But seeing her in action shined a completely different light on her. She goes above and beyond for her clients, and she willingly and gladly steps up and takes initiative when needed. She isn’t afraid to go toe-to-toe with some of the best attorneys in the state. Passion flows out of her like a waterfall, and it shows in her work. She is quick-witted and sharp, her eyes and mind never missing a single detail, and Gabe was not only impressed, but insanely captivated by her.

He initially didn’t think much of their constant flirting in the office or their dinner outings together, especially since Tessa flirted with the fireman for her eviction case. He was a little jealous she flirted with someone else, but since her flirting charmed the fireman into giving her more information than needed, she pulled in a massive win for the firm, and Gabe simply brushed it off and chalked up the flirting as part of her charm. It wasn’t until the cancelled business dinner that Gabe realized what was between them was more than just their typical flirting. He was catching real feelings for her, no matter how much he tried to deny it. While he did acknowledge his feelings for her, his heart was still too guarded and afraid to act on them. Tessa was the first girl he had serious feelings for since Katrina left him. He didn’t know if Tessa even felt the same way he did, nor did he know if he would be able to repair it again if his relationship with Tessa ended the same way like Katrina.

But deep down in his gut, he knew that Tessa was different from Katrina. It was a feeling he couldn’t put a logical reason on, but a gut feeling, one that you just know is true even if you couldn’t explain it. She was the first person Gabe felt genuinely happy with in a long time. Gabe not only believed in a future with her, he could also picture it. Everything he pictured and every interaction they have together doesn’t feel awkward or forced. It feels natural and…right. Aside from that, Tessa showed time and time again that she wants to be with him. If she didn’t, she would’ve turned down every invitation he gave her, and she wouldn’t have gone out of her way to make sure they spend a few moments alone together whenever they can. Tessa already made her feelings about him clear last night, and she was ready to risk the opportunity at becoming partner at one of the country’s premier law firms. She was more than willing to risk it if it meant having him.

Could he really do the same and risk his comfort for her?

_________________________

The morning sun spills into the living room of the hotel suite as the remains of Tessa’s in-room breakfast lay scattered across the coffee table. A re-run of celebrity chef Everett Flynt’s new TV show plays in the background as she busies herself in the bathroom, putting on the last touches of preparations for the day ahead. Once satisfied with her appearance, she pads back out into the bedroom and opens the closet to find an outfit for the day. When her fingers graze the powder blue dress she wore to the cocktail party last night, her task becomes forgotten as her mind flashes back to the night before, her stomach aching at the bitter taste of the memory.

The weekend conference had started off so well with everyone laughing and joking like the best of friends. The cocktail party went off without a hitch, and she managed to score some huge connections with distinguished judges and other lawyers. Everything about the weekend was absolutely perfect, until she decided to stick around and have a late-night snack and drink with Gabe and confessed her harbored feelings toward him. Looking back, the idea to share them was not one of her finer moments; she was certain Gabe and her would take the next steps of their relationship after confessing their feelings for each other, but instead, Gabe did the same thing he always does when they get close to crossing a line. He quickly doused the growing flame and pushed her away once again.

She grabs an outfit from the closet and starts getting dressed, her eyes glancing over at her bed and seeing a few jet-black streaks on the pillowcase, a reminder of what happened last night after she walked away from him. But it also reminds her she can’t keep running back to him and giving him chance after chance. As much as it hurts to walk away from him and what they potentially could have, she knows deep down she will be better off in the long run for doing so. She couldn’t open her heart and let someone inside only to have him lock her out of his. It was Gabe’s turn to return the favor, and this time, his words were no longer going to be enough. It was time for his actions to match his words and feelings, and until they did, Tessa has to move forward with her life.

She finishes getting dressed and fixes the loose strands of hair that got out of place. She glances at the alarm clock on her nightstand, seeing it is still too early for the company cars to come take them back to New York. Just as she was about to lounge on the couch and distract herself with Everett Flynt’s TV show, a loud knock reverberates through the space.

It couldn’t be…could it?

Mind curious, she makes her way over to the door and peeks out of the peephole, her stomach flipping circles as her pulse quickens at the sight of Gabe standing right behind the door. She takes a deep breath and opens the door to see him standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets and his feet shuffling nervously. His actions make her more nervous than excited; Gabe normally acts so confident and sure of himself, and to see him act completely not himself makes tension creep into her thoughts.

“Hi…” Gabe says with a rare, bashful smile as he flicks his eyes down to his shoes. “Can we…” he rubs the back of his neck, “can we talk?”

Seeing him in front of her makes her feel the sting of his rejection all over again, and she has half a mind to slam the door in his face and finally give him a taste of how it feels to be rejected. But when he lifts his eyes towards her, her heart twinges in sympathy. The trademark, mischievous twinkle in his eye is no longer there, and his shoulders look like they’re carrying the weight of the world on them.

“Please…” he quietly pleads.

He’s making the effort you wanted him to make she reminds herself. With a sigh, she gives him a small, almost inscrutable nod, and Gabe flashes her a soft, grateful smile as he shuffles past her, their arms brushing against each other. Tessa tries to force down the warm prick she felt as she shuts the door behind him and follows him to the living room, making sure to keep plenty of space between them, knowing that if she didn’t, she would never get the answers to her questions. Gabe takes a look around the room, taking in the half-eaten breakfast and the way she stands with her arms crossed protectively over her chest, the space between them feeling like a chasm as guilt blooms in his chest again. The air was filling with cold tension, and Gabe awkwardly clears his throat, eyes darting around to find something to break the quiet spell.

His eyes land on the TV, and he jumps at the opportunity it presents. “Taste of the World? Isn’t this the episode where Everett runs away from the show and the culinary producer he obviously has feelings for?”

“Seems fitting, doesn’t it?” Tessa blurts out with a humorless guffaw. Gabe flinches at the sting of her words, and she squeezes her eyes shut in regret, cursing at herself under her breath. As upset as she is, Gabe made the first move. The least she could do is hear him out. “I’m sorry, Gabe. I didn’t…”

“Don’t be sorry,” Gabe cuts in. “I deserve that and much more.” He takes a step closer to her, and when she doesn’t back up, he continues. “In any case, you have nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault.”

“Maybe it is my fault,” Tessa concedes. “I was being too pushy and trying to force an answer out of you that you clearly weren’t ready to tell me.” She uncrosses her arms and drops them back to her sides, a sign that Gabe takes as a good one.

“You weren’t being pushy, Tessa. You were only being honest with me, and no one should ever be blamed for being honest. And you’re right. The show is fitting considering I’m the one who keeps running away when it’s the last thing I want to do.”

The harsh expression on her face softens into mild surprise. Was he fixing to tell her the real reason he keeps running away? “Gabe, all I want to know is why do you keep running when it’s clear that you and I both want this?”

Gabe swallows the lump in his throat, the memory of her rejection rearing its ugly head again. “Because that’s exactly what she did.”

Tessa furrows her brows. “Who’s she?”

“Katrina.”

“Who’s Katrina?” After a long pause, the lightbulb goes off in her head, and her eyes widen in recognition. “Oh…” Her mind goes back to the night of the business dinner and the far-off look Gabe had in his eyes at her question of commitment.

“Even in this city?” she asks him in pure surprise. “You’ve really never found someone who’s as all-in as you are?”

Gabe looks across the glittering skyline of New York. “I thought I had, once…” he turns his attention back to her, and Tessa can see the unspoken memory fade from his eyes, “but that was a long time ago. And as it turns out, I was wrong about her.”

“How…” she swallows hard, her heart aching in sympathy for him. “How bad was it, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Gabe scratches his stubbled chin and lets out a humorless, bitter chuckle. “Let’s just say I can’t get a refund on the ring anymore.”

Her eyes widen into the size of saucers, and her jaw drops open in complete shock. His actions and words suddenly became much more understandable. It explained why Gabe kept running away and avoided crossing the line between playful flirting and serious romance. He thought if he didn’t cross those lines and reject her first, she was going to be the one to do it eventually. He refused to act on his feelings because the last time he did, Katrina rejected his proposal and left him. Gabe didn’t build the walls around his heart to keep her out. He built them because he was afraid history was going to repeat itself, and he chose to live in his own little bubble of comfort instead of taking another risk, and Tessa couldn’t blame him one bit for it.

“I’m really sorry she did that to you, Gabe.” Her feet move closer to him, the space becoming smaller. “I had no idea.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he brushes off. “I’ve moved on from it. In any case, her rejection changed my life for the better. If she didn’t, I probably wouldn’t be at McGraw Byrne in the first place, and I never would’ve met you.”

Tessa fidgets with her ring. “Gabe…” she begins, but quickly trails off.

“What?” he asks her. “You know you can say or tell me anything right?”

“I know, but…” she takes another deep breath, forcing herself to say what she was thinking. “Do you really have feelings for me?”

“Absolutely,” Gabe says, no hesitation in his voice. It makes her heart flutter a bit.

“Have I given you any reason to doubt my feelings for you?”

“No.”

“So even knowing all that, you still choose to run away,” she says matter-of-factly.

Gabe flinches at her words, tucking his gaze away from her. “Yes.”

“Then you haven’t moved on. Not entirely at least.”

Gabe’s eyes snap over to hers as he furrows his brows. “What?”

Tessa sighs. “Look Gabe. You’re absolutely right. If Katrina hadn’t rejected your proposal, we never would’ve crossed paths in a hundred years. But…”

“But what?”

“You still let what she did control you,” Tessa points out. “You say that you’ve moved on, but have you really? I mean, just take a look at what happened last night. The minute we started talking about getting serious, you quickly pushed me away and ran. You did the same thing in Vegas, and you did the same thing at the business dinner too.”

Gabe runs his hand through his hair. “I know I did, and I will always regret my actions. But I’m willing to give us a chance if you still want that. I like you so much, Tessa, and I know the two of us have something special that is worth so much more than a partnership or my insecurities.”

She eyes him curiously. “And what happens if I do give you a chance, Gabe? Are you going to run again?”

“Absolutely not,” Gabe says firmly, his deep tone making her skin jump in shock. “I’m done running away, Tessa. For good.”

Butterflies flood her stomach as her heart swells at his words, but the sensations only make her feel more guilty for what she was about to say. “Gabe, you’re saying all the right words, and I want to believe them so badly. I really do. But…”

The hopeful expression on his face slowly fades as icy dread floods his veins. “But you can’t?”

Tessa nods dejectedly. “I’m sorry, Gabe. But until you actually show me instead of telling me that you really are done running, and that you really want there to be an ‘us’, we can’t…”

Before she could finish her sentence, Gabe takes two quick strides over to her, the space between them shrinking as he gently cups her cheeks in his hands. His thumbs run over her cheekbones, and she instinctively submits to his touch, her mind already forgetting its previous thoughts and focusing solely on the soft, tender caress of his thumbs. She can smell the sharp and heady scent of his cologne, the one that makes her want to bury her face in his chest and breathe him in. She can see each individual eyelash and the sparkling mixture of nerves and pure determination in his eyes. The little puffs of breath from his lips tickle her skin, and her blood rushes and pounds in her ears as she finds herself slipping into his warm, chocolate orbs.

“What…what are you doing?” she asks over the sound of her heart thundering in her chest.

He brings their faces closer together, only centimeters between them. “What I should’ve done a long time ago.”

_________________________

The walls Gabe spent years hiding his heart behind start to crumble as he closes the last inch of space between them. He tentatively presses his lips against hers, a spark of electricity racing through her that makes her scalp prickle. The initial shock of his kiss makes her tense up, a small little whimper coming from her lips, but soon, she finds herself melting into the kiss when Gabe presses his lips firmer to hers. His lips feel like velvet, moving slowly and sensually against hers as her eyes flutter close and her body surrenders to his dizzying kiss. Her arms slide up around his shoulders and tease the little hairs on the back of his neck while he grips her waist and pulls her closer to him, his hand snaking up underneath her shirt and lightly pressing into the bare skin of her lower back. A rush of warmth spreads throughout her body from his touch, and Tessa lets out a small little moan when Gabe gently nibbles on her bottom lip and breaks the kiss. Their foreheads touch together, their breaths mixing as all their unspoken feelings and desires pass between them in this silent, intimate moment.

She shyly bites her lip and looks up at him through her lashes only to see him smiling back down at her, his eyes a swirling cocktail of happy relief and fiery desire. Since growing closer to him, she often caught herself wondering when their first kiss was going to happen and what it would be like, and she would gladly admit the real thing was so much better than her imagination and thoughts. It was full of sensual desire, yet sweet tenderness. It was warm and comforting, yet intoxicating and thrilling. It was gentle, yet confident and sure. It was a kiss full of everything she associated with the man holding her in his arms.

“Now do you believe me?” he asks her as he nuzzles his nose with hers. His voice is laced with his signature cockiness, but Tessa detects a slight hint of worry underneath it.

“I think I need a little more convincing than that.” She was more than convinced Gabe meant what he said earlier, but she found some fun in teasing him a little longer. She considers it playful revenge for making her wait all this time for him to finally acknowledge his feelings.

A low groan vibrates in his throat at the floodgate Tessa’s words opens up inside him, and both of them know there is no going back after this. The tip of his tongue darts out and silkily caresses his lower lip as his eyes darken more, the passion and desire he kept locked away and hidden now flowing through his veins and taking control of his thoughts and actions. Tessa shudders at the sound of his groan and the carnal look in his eye, her nerves switching to high alert as the air buzzes with excitement. His hands snake around her waist and down to her ass, pulling her hard against him and relishing in the feel of her body against his. His firm, hard bulge presses into the apex of her thighs, and she feels it grow harder with each passing second. She subtly grinds her hips into the hardness, a pleasant rush of heat pooling between her legs as soft groans fill the surrounding air.

All of his previous fears and doubts dash out of his mind as he firmly crushes his lips to hers in a searing, heated kiss, molding and shaping her lips to his every whim and wish. Her knees wobble at the sudden assault, but his strong arms wrapped around her waist hold her up securely as the air sparks like a colorful firework and showers them in a bright rainbow of light. Her body molds perfectly into his, like two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly in the picture. Her mind goes dizzy with delight as her hands run over his clothed chest and come to rest on his sculpted shoulders. He shifts his hips ever so slightly, and the friction makes Tessa groan in pleasant surprise. Gabe takes advantage and lightly teases his tongue with hers as the two of them deepen the kiss. When their lungs scream for much-needed air, he sinks his teeth into her bottom lip and tugs it back, breaking the kiss and leaving them gasping for air.

“Convincing…enough for…you?” he asks her. “Or do…you need a…another sign?”

Her fingers draw lazy heart-shapes over his own heart, feeling it thunder beneath her touch. “I think…I need a little…more.”

She coquettishly flutters her eyelashes and delicately pulls her lower lip between her teeth. The sight makes his cock twitch and punch against the tight confines of his pants, needy and begging for some type of relief, preferably from her. He wraps his fingers around her wrist, halting her movements. Their eyes lock on each other, and slowly, Gabe moves her hand down his torso. She feels the muscles of his stomach subtly flexing and tightening in anticipation, even through the layers of fabric between them. He reaches his belt buckle and stops the movement, his eyes and action asking her the question she already knows the answer to. She gives him a nod, excitement filling up her stomach and making the butterflies flutter. She holds her breath as Gabe guides her hand past his belt buckle, the air becoming thick with anticipation. When her hand finally brushes over his bulge and feels it twitch, the air rushes out of her. Her finger teasingly traces the outline of his bulge, and Gabe sucks in a sharp breath. When she cups him through his pants, the muscles in his jaw tick, head lolling back with a hiss as he surrenders to the sensation of her gentle squeezes.

She runs her palm up and down over his bulge, feeling his cock grow harder and punch painfully against his zipper. With another firmer squeeze of his bulge, the chain holding him back breaks, and with a groan that sounds almost like a growl, their lips find each other again, the built-up passion and desire flowing unrestrained between them as their hands wander and roam over each other’s bodies. Their kisses break momentarily as Gabe’s sweater is pulled off his body and Tessa’s top goes flying across the room. Her fingers try to unbutton his shirt, but when his lips trail down across her jaw and down to the sensitive skin of her neck, she momentarily says “fuck it” and rips open his shirt, the buttons flying across the room and ricocheting off the walls and freeing his naked chest to her greedy fingers. He slides the shirt off his body and tosses it with a groan, feeling more turned on than angry at her action. His lips trail back up across her jaw and find her lips again, their tongues dancing together as the kiss deepens and becomes even more erotic and sensual. Her hands caress over his naked torso, the memory of every dip, ridge, and flex of his muscles becoming firmly ingrained in her mind.

Fantasies from long ago are now becoming real. Any semblance of time and reality escapes them. All that mattered is this moment between them. A moment neither of them wants to end. Ever.

“Gabe…” she mumbles between kisses. “You. Bedroom. Now.” Her fingers slide down his abs until they reach the sensitive sliver of skin hidden just behind the waistband of his pants. When shuddering goosebumps flare up over his skin, he grabs her wrist and halts her movement.

“Wait…” Gabe groans after giving her another kiss. “Are you sure…you want to do this? Because once we start…I don’t ever want it to end.”

The desire and longing in his voice is unmistakable. “Wh…what?”

“I just…” Gabe shakes his head, trying to get his words right. “I don’t want you to do anything or commit to anything you might regret later on,” he tells her. “I want this to happen so much. You know how bad I want you right now, but I understand completely if you don’t want—"

She tugs him forward by his belt and places a hard, chaste kiss to his lips, effectively cutting off his rambling spell. “Gabe, I wouldn’t have given you my keycard if I didn’t want this to happen.” She kisses the tip of his chin, the stubble scratching her lips. “I want this, Gabe.” She presses a kiss on his chest, right over his heart, and the action takes his breath away. “I want you. Only you.”

His grin grows bigger at her admission. “You’re the only one I want too,” he replies, trailing his finger lightly across her jaw that has her shivering in joy.

Her hands slide back up his torso and wind around his neck, deviousness flashing in her eyes. She hops up and wraps her legs around his waist, his strong arms flexing and catching her without missing a single beat. “Then take me into the bedroom and prove it, Ricci.”

He gives her a smoldering look, and with another moan, his lips kiss the hollow of her throat and trail over to her collarbone, his hands squeezing her ass teasingly and eliciting a gasp from her. She rolls her head back and submits to his scorching kisses and kitten bites on her neck as he makes the short journey into the bedroom. He pulls his lips away from her, and with a wolfish grin and a devilish wink, he tosses her onto the giant bed. Tessa senses the shift in dynamic between them at the sudden, but very much wanted, powerful surge of dominance from him. Seeing him confidently take charge was such a turn-on for her and makes warm tendrils coil and tighten in her core. Gabe quickly toes off his shoes while she sheds her shorts and playfully tosses them in his direction with a giggle. He chuckles at her playfulness and snatches them out of the air. When he turns his attention back to her, her shorts slip out of his grasp as his eyes widen in surprise, his cock twitching in extreme pleasure and appreciation at the sight in front of him.

“Fucking. Hell.” He groans, voice gravelly and filled with lust.

His hand reaches down and palms his cock as he drinks in Tessa kneeling in the middle of the bed, wearing nothing except her lacy plunge bra and matching panties as her hair falls over one of her eyes. The sight was so much hotter than the one in his fantasies, and he couldn’t wait to rip away the thin fabric and fully see what she was hiding beneath it. She beckons him with a manicured finger, and with the invitation, Gabe hurriedly climbs onto the bed and drapes his hard body overs hers as he kisses her relentlessly. Her peaked nipples brush up against his chest through the tight confines of her bra, pulsing and begging for his attention. He shifts his weight over to one side, propping himself on his forearm as Tessa wraps her arms around his neck. His other hand slides up her side and finds her breast; Gabe softly squeezes and massages it, his thumb and index finger teasing her nipple through the fabric and making it tight with pressure. A jolt of pleasure surges through her when Gabe pinches her nipple, a rush of electricity traveling through her and making her toes curl.

Her hand slides down and pushes on his shoulder, the weight and control shifting as Gabe falls to his back and Tessa drapes her legs over him to straddle his hips, feeling his hard bulge press against her center. She braces herself on the solid planes of his chest, feeling his heartbeat race wildly and his eyes burning holes into her skin as she grinds her hips against him, a smirk fighting its way onto her face as his soft moans and groans fill the room like a symphony and wrap around her like a blanket. Gabe flutters his eyes closed, succumbing to the incredible sensation of her hips moving over his cock. While he normally is the one to take control and dominate in the bedroom, seeing her on top of him, her hips giving him just the right amount of agonizing friction, and being completely at her mercy is the sexiest thing he has ever seen.

When he opens his eyes again, Tessa sees them glazed over with pure lust and unbridled attraction for her, the magnetic energy washing over both of them. “Goddamn…” he hoarsely whispers, the lust in his voice making tingles spiral down her spine.

“See something you like?” she coyly asks him.

“Oh, trust me, I don’t like this.” His fingers toy with the lacy waistband of her panties, occasionally dipping underneath and teasing the sensitive skin before caressing down her thighs. “I fucking love it. I think you look…oh shit…” his train of thought trails off as she shifts her hips again, sending another wave of bliss washing over him. “I think you look so goddamn sexy.”

The compliment makes liquid heat pool in her core as the air floods with heated desire and erotic passion. She lightly digs her fingernails into his solid chest, seeing the muscles flex before scratching down his torso, sending another shudder through him. “Mmm…having thoughts about me, are you?”

Gabe cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, I have plenty of thoughts about you. All of them dirty.” His hands stop their teasing caresses and travel up her thighs. “You in my bed begging for me.” His fingers graze over her panties, pulling back the waistband and letting it go with a light snap that makes her gasp. “You wet and pressed up against the wall in my shower.” His hands ghost up her sides until they reach her breasts. “You bent over my desk in my office.” He cups her breasts and flicks the peaked nipples straining underneath the fabric. “You on top just like this, riding me. Hard.”

The images flash through her mind, and the muscles in her core tighten in excitement at the possibility of making all of his fantasies come true. “Who knew Gabe Ricci had such dirty thoughts, or that he likes being controlled,” she tells him as her back arches and her chest pushes further into his massaging hands.

One of his hands snakes up behind her back and expertly undoes the clasp on her bra before carelessly tossing it across the room. “Just because you’re on top doesn’t mean you’re in control.”

She arches an eyebrow at the challenge in his tone. Her hands wrap around his wrists, and with a flash of devious intent, she pins his wrists into the mattress above his head, her breasts hovering teasingly over him, just far enough out of his reach. “Aren’t I though?” she grinds against him again, the friction making their skin hot.

The tip of his tongue darts out and silkily swipes over his lips, her eyes transfixing on the movement. The slight distraction is just enough for Gabe to flip her over and pin her underneath him again. The loose tendrils of his hair cover his eyes, a few strands plastered to his slick forehead, giving him a wild and untamed look, and the look makes her squirm as the muscles in her core tighten. “Told you I was in control,” he shoots back. He dips his head down and teasingly kisses her lips, pulling away before she could deepen it. He guides her arms up and pins them above her head. “Keep them there,” he commands.

“What if I don’t?” she asks him. “What are you going to do about it?”

Gabe groans. “Let’s just say that I reward good behavior and punish bad behavior.” He smirks at her. “But something tells me you enjoy punishments far too much, so I guess I’ll have to come up with something a little different.”

His lips attach to the warm pulse point of her neck, and Tessa sinks into the mattress like it is a warm pool of blissful pleasure. He kisses down the muscle of her neck before licking a wet stripe back up the length of it and giving it little nips and bites as he trails back down. He leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone until he reaches the hollow of her throat. The tip of his tongue traces the outline before placing a kiss directly in the middle of it, and Tessa sucks in a sharp breath. He shifts his body downward as his kisses travel across her chest and down to her breast. He kisses and slowly licks wet circles around her breast, leaving no inch of skin untouched as he comes closer and closer to her nipple with each circle, and Tessa groans at his methodical torture as her nipples throb in pleasure. When he places a kiss directly on her peaked nipple, the air rushes out of her in a moan that sends vibrations flooding through his veins and directly to his cock.

He draws her nipple between his lips and sucks on it while his other hand kneads and molds her other breast, giving her the relief she has been craving from him. He alternates his movements, from sucking on her nipple to giving it gentle little nips and swirls of his tongue while his fingers tug and roll her other nipple. He sharply bites down on her nipple and soothes the sting with his tongue, and Tessa arches hard off the bed at the sweet torture. He shifts his body again as he releases the nipple from his mouth and kisses his way over to her other breast. He gives it the same agonizing torture as the other until both are even more swollen and throbbing. Her hands clench into fists as her eyes squeeze shut, fighting the urge to touch him as every little nip and suck makes her squirm in pleasure.

The tip of his tongue trails down through the valley between her breasts, the action sending blood rushing through her body and making heat pool in her core. As much as she tries to fight it, Tessa gives into the urge to move her hand, and she reaches out and threads her fingers in his dark, soft hair. Immediately, his hand wraps around her wrist and pins it back above her head, and she giggles in spite of herself. He glances up at her through his lashes, and Tessa can see the raw power in them. He kisses his way back up, tongue darting out briefly to flick over her nipples again, and over the hollow of her throat. He softly nips at the center of her neck and traces her jaw with teasing breaths until she feels his hot breath on the shell of her ear, goosebumps flaring up over her skin.

“And you were doing so well,” Gabe murmurs in her ear as he traces the shell of her ear with his tongue.

“You know I don’t do well following the rules.”

He nips at her earlobe. “Then I’m going to make you follow the rules.” He swings his leg over her and climbs out of the bed, her body already missing his warmth. “Don’t move,” he commands. “I’ll be right back.”

He pads out of the room, leaving Tessa lying there a building mess of excitement and nervousness. She hears Gabe mutter a curse before the sound of the TV is cut off, and she giggles at the absurdity of it. She strains her ears to hear anything else, but the only sounds she can make out are soft rustling of fabric and little clinks like glass. After a few more moments that felt like an eternity, Gabe knocks on the frame of the door, and she shifts up onto her elbows to see him standing there, his lips kinked to the side in a smirk and devilish intentions dancing in his eyes. He holds up his hands, and Tessa sees a glass filled with ice cubes in one hand and the belt to the complimentary bathrobe in the other. The thought of what Gabe was planning to do to her with those two items has her quivering in delight.

“I hope you’re ready, Tessa,” Gabe says. “Because we’re going to have some fun.”

_________________________

A/N

So hello everyone! I know this took a lot longer than anticipated, but unfortunately, life decided to throw a curveball at me recently, so I am very sorry for the delay.

For those who might guess, when I finished the 2nd part, it again turned into another 15k mess, so you all will be getting a Part 3 shortly, where we’ll go into even more of some smutty goodness and some fluffy pillow talk.

I hope you all really enjoy it as much as you did for part 1, and I will see you all soon for the finale!

Second chance tagging in case Tumblr becomes Tumbroke again: @choices-addict @choiceskatie @lady-calypso @chemist-ana @kat-tia801 @chrissythadon @nishas-paradise @blainehellyes @suitfer @pixelnutrookie @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @adiehardfan @panda9584 @curiousconch @weaving-in-words @mm2305 @thegreentwin

#laws of attraction #choices laws of attraction #gabe ricci x mc #gabe x mc #ns*fw #n*fw

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