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adapembroke · 2 years ago

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Mercury in Aries: A Writing Practice Without Routine

Ever since I started writing, I’ve wanted to be a writer with a daily writing routine. I’ve fantasized about sitting outside at the patio table in the morning with a well-loved journal and a fountain pen, blissfully staring off into space while I search for the perfect word, filled with the sweet satisfaction of knowing that I’ve shown up for the work every day since I can remember.

I’ve nursed the fantasy of a consistent writing routine for almost two decades, and I haven’t managed to make it reality for more than a few days at a time. It’s not that I haven’t tried. While searching for the perfect daily writing routine, I’ve given myself word count goals. I’ve set the intention to write morning pages first thing in the morning. I’ve read Natalie Goldberg religiously. I’ve picked up a book on writers’ daily habits and tried the most likely habits on for size.

Even when I was in graduate school and had to turn in ten pages a week, my writing practice was irregular. I knew I was running a marathon, not a sprint, so I was determined to write two pages a day. Instead, there were days when I wrote nothing and days when I wrote ten pages in a sitting. When I got up in the morning, I had no idea what kind of day it was going to be.

I always start a new writing practice with high hopes. I try to make it as pleasant as possible, bribing myself with a huge mug of my favorite tea and the most pleasant writing environment I can conjure. Even with all this kindness, I quickly watch my energy dwindle. By the time I finally quit, the only thing that has happened daily is a steady decline in productivity.

Most of the time, I accept that having a daily writing routine just isn’t the way I work best. I have learned that I am capable of keeping a regular publishing rhythm most of the time, as long as the beats in the rhythm are counted in weeks, not days. Like the seasons of the year, my writing rhythm has periods of intense productivity and fallow, winter periods where I need to step away from my pen and live life without thinking about recording it all the time. I prefer to be productive, but I have learned that I need fallow periods. I come back refreshed and a better writer.

I was coming out of a fallow writing period during the New Moon in Aries.

As the daffodils and tulips put out new buds, I was full of schemes. The first day of Aries season is the New Year for astrologers, and a New Moon on the same day as the New Year felt like an excellent time to start something new. Since my Mercury in Aries is in the house of publishing, I decided it would be a good time to commit to a writing practice and start publishing articles again.

In retrospect, setting the intention to break my silence was a good idea. Trying to impose daily discipline and a strict structure was, as always, less successful than I wanted it to be.

As I created the plan for my new writing practice, I felt a bleak void growing in my chest. Deep down, I knew this was a sign that I wasn't fully onboard with the plan, but I pushed ahead, telling myself that the feeling was just baggage.

"The past is past," I told myself, contradicting Faulkner. "This time can be different."

Then the New Moon actually arrived, and one of the members of the Narrative Astrology Lab asked if I could teach about decans. I didn't know enough about decans to teach them, but I asked the community if there would be interest in starting a study group and researching the topic together.

The response was immediate and enthusiastic. Unbeknownst to me, several members of the Lab already used the decans in their practices, and they were delighted for the chance to share their knowledge. Others had tried to study the decans and failed to find the information they needed, and they were just as happy to have some help.

In a few hours we went from doing nothing with decans to starting a whole new study group. I was excited. I ended the day feeling like I was doing good work, exactly the work I should be doing. None of that work included writing.

Mercury in Aries is the Big Bang: First there is nothing. Then a universe appears.

Aries is great at starting things, but it’s a sprinter, not a marathon runner. Without help, it quickly runs out of energy and isn’t able to continue.

Aries needs Taurus to pick up where it left off if it’s going to have any staying power. Taurus is famously suspicious of change, and new beginnings naturally involve change, so it takes a lot to convince Taurus to give Aries-initiated ideas the lasting energy they need. More often than not, Taurus decides Aries’ ideas are harebrained schemes, meaning things that begin under the influence of Aries have the lifespan of a lit match.

There are times when Taurus' suspicion of Aries' projects is well-placed. Aries energy can be like being possessed by the full cast of Jackass. After the initial energy is spent, you wake up sheepish, wondering where your pants are and why you thought spraying pepper spray in your eyes was a good idea.

Even in the best of times, Aries energy has the tendency to forget what it’s good for. Just because it has the energy and motivation to lift a car now doesn’t mean that it will have the strength to do it 5,000 more times, but Aries forgets this in the heat of the moment. This makes it terrible at determining if a long-term project is realistic.

For its part, Taurus has the tendency to underestimate what’s possible. When an otherwise good idea fizzles because of a lack of energy or resources, Taurus' refusal to get onboard feels like negotiating with an 85 year old man who's spent the last 20 years eating pretzels and watching the Food Network. You wonder if Taurus’s lack of enthusiasm comes from wisdom or laziness.

There are many reasons, but they all lead to the same place: Aries starts many more things than it is able to finish.

It isn’t easy to finish writing projects with Mercury in Aries.

You would think a person with a Taurus sun and three Aries placements would be an expert at getting Aries and Taurus to work together. What I've learned, however, is that often I have absolutely no idea whether an Aries scheme is genius or unrealistic until I’ve fully committed to the idea. It isn’t enough to scheme. Until I actually get started—metaphorically, dropping a lit match��I have no idea if I’m standing in a puddle of water or an oil lake in Kuwait.

When working with Aries energy, it can take a thousand tries before I stumble on an idea that has enough staying-power to succeed. A new project might not have found the right timing, or it might be unrealistically large. Betting on an Aries-inspired project means risking ending up with egg on my face when something I’ve attempted doesn't work out.

I have learned over the years that the best way to get things accomplished when working with Aries is to keep throwing ideas at the wall in a controlled environment. I work best in places where it is acceptable to move fast and break things and good ideas are able to grow and thrive with the support of a community and the careful cultivation of Taurus.

It was exactly this type of community that I had in mind when I created the Narrative Astrology Lab. Labs are for experiments, and experiments never really fail. Even when they don't turn out the way you want them to, you've still learned something about the way the world works.

And, anyway, if you aren't blowing things up in a lab, are you really taking enough risks?

Mercury in Aries is sprout energy.

On the day of the New Moon, I went to a decans discussion group hosted by the 3 of Wands Discord Server. We talked about the Aries symbol being like a young sprout with two leaves. It got me thinking about how so many things have to come together to get a new sprout to appear in the world. The temperature has to be right. The seed has to be in hospitable soil. There has to be enough water, and the seed has to survive predators.

Even when all the necessary factors are present, a sprout is really delicate. A strong gust of wind or a hot day are the only things standing between it and destruction. Sprouts are so fragile that gardeners typically plant way more seeds than they need, so they can choose the strongest sprouts to cultivate.

Aries is the sign of the Warrior. It has a reputation for being hard as nails. In reality, Aries is just as fragile as a tiny sprout. It is all beginnings, no middles or endings. The only thing keeping it from disappearing entirely is the ram-headed determination—stupidity or courage?—to throw itself into obstacles again and again.

With Mercury in Aries, I should be prepared to have unpredictable energy.

I should be prepared to start many more things than I finish and have new writing projects suddenly spring to life or vanish.

A Mercury in Aries way of being in the world requires constant new beginnings, which means that a sustained and methodical process isn’t going to give me the best ideas. Aries-style new beginnings are mysterious. Inspiration comes from nowhere. I can set an intention and hope that it comes to something someday, but I can’t create a disciplined plan in advance the way a person can when starting a mountain climbing trip with Capricorn. I have no idea when I’m starting a writing project if I will have Taurus’ blessing to sustain me on a long journey or if the thing I’ve started will ultimately be an article, book, course, or Instagram carousel.

The Aries New Moon was less than a week ago, and I’ve already given up on the idea of a new daily practice, but my intention to write was not for nothing. This article started to germinate at the Aries New Moon. All I needed to do was wait until the moon slipped into Taurus and sent my Mercury in Aries an extra pack of batteries.

#mercury #aries

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alterlovetm · 6 years ago

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me getting so excited about ska.m ital.ia that i forget how sk.am works: wow i cant wait for this season

#this is actually good i need something to be excited about?? refreshing the page every time i get back from class is going to be #Riveting #❛ ‹ iii. &. og skam being set in norway & having seasons is all i’ve ever wanted. / ooc › ❜#i dont understand italian but who cares i can understand context and loOKS ACROSS THE ROOM #we stan martino up in here

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ladywinterwitch · 2 years ago

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Game Of Thrones (Headcanon) - Crushing/Jealousy

Y'all I really hope this doesn't suck because the tumblr page literally refreshed as I was almost done writing so it saved NOTHING and I had to re-write every single word so. Ngl I might've shed a tear but we're not gonna talk about that :). I mixed the 'Them having a crush in you' and the 'Jealousy trope' for this one. Also. I don't know how many of these Headcanons I'll write but regardless even if I do switch up the characters or format for the posts every now and then, don't panic lmfao If I stopped I would tell you. Apologizing for any eventual errors! They'll be fixed.

Warnings: mentions of sex but nothing explicitly nsfw (okay maybe be aware for Oberyn idk), cursing, nothing much really

*I will try to keep the gender descriptions vague, just like the time periods and avoid subplots unlike the other two parts simply because I wouldn't want to make it seem like mini series or something that you kinda have to 'catch up on', I hope that makes sense.

Main masterlist and other headcanons

Lmk what you think if you feel like it :'D

ROBB STARK

Robb is painfully smitten with you from the beginning. This in the very first times made him almost quite shy, but once he gained some confidence and some desire made its way along with the platonic feelings, well. He could be very sweet one second, and make you blush on purpose the moment after. With the whole Winterfell heir/oldest Stark kid thing he never lacked much in the confidence department and it was clear in more ways than one. He is the literal defintion of prince charming. Probably the embodiement of those brave and handsome heroes his sister Sansa liked to read so much about.

Depending on the time of his life in which he met you, he would be more or less careful of showing his feelings. If he were still in Winterfell, with his family and friends around, he would allow himself to be a little more carefree, especially if his father was still the lord of the castle. Catelyn would be a mixture of anxiety and excitement, Robb being her first born and having his first actual experience with love. Ned on the other hand would be just heart warmed by seeing his son being such a good and caring young man, like he raised him to be. Arya would probably either be quite uninterested or befriend you, depending on how much she could relate to you. The same thing is worth for Sansa, even though she would still be quite interested in how things played out between you two. Theon would be annoyingly teasing him about his crush, meanwhile Jon would be more of a listener and give his support to his half brother (cousin).

Depending on how things would've gone with the whole Robert thing, you would've been probably left alone without too much talk of a strategic wedding.

If, on the other hand, we were talking about a slighlty older and king in the North Robb, the situation would probably be more difficult. Regardless, you wouldn't have been the right choice for him to marry, not necessarily for your rank, but because your family wouldn't be strategically strong enough to have important advantages in the war of the five kings. Which is what he needed, but not wanted. Catelyn knew it, he knew it and you knew it.

This Robb would've flirted in the same way more or less, just probably more on the intense and desire filled side than the 'sweet boy' one. And definetly more subtle, for war reasons but mainly because he wanted to keep you safe. Speaking of keeping you safe, he wasn't an overly jealous man by nature, especially if he knew that he was in no position to give you something better than endless pining. But if a man, or another person, were to offend you, or make you feel unsafe, he would definetly pay a little visit in a more appropriate time to the fool in question with his werewolf. He knew better than to not take precautions with the people that he cared about. And after a little scare, he would go to see you and make sure you were alright.

JON SNOW

If Jon has one issue, is how stupidly stubborn he is. Especially when he's younger. This man would rather pin over you for the rest of his life than be honest about his feelings. And you kinda hate him for it sometimes. Regardless of him being in Winterfell as the lord's bastard or a memeber of the Night's Watch, his brooding never changes. Obviously the bigger issue in the second case would be that he literally swore to not take wife or father no children, which made the whole 'being hopelessly in love with you' thing a tad more difficult. In any scenario, he would have that one person close to him to whom he just couldn't lie to. Wheter it was Robb or Sam, he knew that every time you came up in the conversation he could either blush and get out of the topic, or just blurt out his feelings.

Younger Jon would definetly be more awkward and less obvious than Robb, especially because he was nowhere near having the same confidence. He would still be very caring and sweet, just in a more subtle way. If Robb was the kind of guy that would ask you to dance with him or bring you flowers openly, Jon would offer you his fur coat if you were cold or help you get up and down a horse.

He also really enjoys people who kind of understand him as he is and don't try to pressure him that much into acting in a way that it's not himself, and this is honestly one of the things that makes him go crazy for you. He loves how interesting and funny and genuinely caring about him you are. He thinks about you all the time. But gods forbid if he was caught actually having feelings that weren't angsty. He didn't like people that much, but he liked you. Very much so.

You could see through him though, so while you didn't want to pressure him to say more than he wanted, you could get irritated about how stubborn he was sometimes. It happened more than once that other people flirted with you or apparently so, and Jon was never thrilled about that, at all. If you looked around hard enough you could probably spot him in a corner of the room, watching you from afar, brooding as usual. That made you quite sad at times, because you didn't fully understand why he just wouldn't let himself go completely with you. You sometimes played a bit into it, just a tiny bit, to get him riled up. But in the end, you were always going back to him, making sure that you would actually never betray him. He knew that, deep down.

But again, he didn't trust people much, and could get quite protective if he sensed that something wasn't quite right with someone. Before doing anything though, he would often keep an eye on them, and after that if his worries actually were proven somehow to be true, it wouldn't take him much to use a few tricks up his sleeve to scare people off.

Older Jon would be more straightforward, both in personal relationships and with the whole confronting thing. Young Jon liked the shadows, older Jon wasn't afraid to put himself on the spot if he had to.

OBERYN MARTELL

Oberyn having actual romantic feelings was news to him. Many times, especially when he was younger he had questioned himself, 'Am I just horny, or do I care?' and no, the answer is no. He thinks that he got really close at times, but mostly he ended up having great fuck-buddies and occasional dinner companions. Most times he wasn't even interested in actual non-married people, so it's not that it could've gone that far anyway unless he was ready to start an affair. But he didn't care enough for it, way too many problems.

With you though, it was new. You weren't much younger and definetly not completely inexperienced, so it's not long after that you met that you actually had sex. You seemed fine with just having this type of 'fun' relationship, so it was really just him finding himself wanting to spend time with you in other ways. Your relationships had blurred lines for a while to be honest. He was the rich spoiled prince with whom you had occasional sex with, and you were one of the lucky people to get into the prince of Dorne's graces.

Knowing his reputation and generally his personality, it took you a while to actually start to believe that he could be in love with you. Riding horses, dining and drinking together, having sex, spending time together and even painting for fun, to you only seemed the behaviour of a rich prince that had a new 'favorite' of the season. Things started to get a different tone when you noticed how possessive he could be. Not in a properly toxic way, but he did like to get you absolutely flustered in the most inappropriate places, to not so secretly show you off while dressing you with the most beautiful and expensive garments in the realm, putting you at his side at important events and even saying that he wanted you to be just his. Not that you were in the position nor desire to actually sleep around, but that statement definetly put a more defined label on your relationship.

Oberyn usually wouldn't get jealous, but he would be even more confident and showy when he wanted to warn someone off. And then usually get you in a dark spot of the palace and fuck you while he told you you were his. And if someone had some snarky things to say about you, he made sure they didn't do it ever again.

JAIME LANNISTER

Confused, insecure, protective, closed off, romantic, intense, quite jealous, vulnerable

Jaime is complicated. He just is. There's also very little chance that he could've managed to look at someone other than Cersei in his younger years, because their separation was very brief, and the immediate failure of her and Robert's marriage gave them the perfect opportunity to keep going with their toxic relationship. As soon as he gets away from her, and loses his hand in the process, he also starts to struggle with his own thoughts about who he is and who he wants to be.

When he meets you, he didn't even thought about your meeting twice. He observed you, as he always does with people, but thought nothing more of you except your beauty probably. The first time you actually talked though, he did think about it a little harder. It was news to him that someone would actually address him in a normal and respectful way, without being fake that is. He had roughed up during the years, especially since people had started to call him Kingslayer, traitor, backstabber. Any kind of degrading name. No one actually even bothered to make their own opinions or listen to his side. Robert and Ned and the whole lot of other people of the court chose a biased version and went with it.

You didn't. Wiredly enough it left him feeling quite wired, and definetly interested in you. If anything, he was curious to see if you were going to ever speak to him again, and you did. You made sure to acknowledge him every time that you saw him, even at the cost of getting the stink eye from whoever was accompanying you. Jaime started to get more interested, and wanting to know you better. Either of you had any malice in this whole thing. You were both genuinely curious to listen to what the other had to say. And slowly, Jaime started to get more and more distanced from his sister. It's like he was blind, or willingly chose not to see, what she really was. The difference was obvious when he interacted with you.

You did create a genuinely nice connections, and you didn't miss to stop and talk or even walk together when you had the chance. The real turning point for him was when he started to actually think about you. He felt confused and quite scared, to be honest. He was afraid of many things; of the fact that he could actually feel something that wasn't so wrong like what he felt for Cersei, of how worthy someone like him could be of you. These thoughts remained quite abstract, even in his own mind, until he actually felt like he was punched in the gut when you started to get courted by another person.

Now, that, was quite the wake up call. Before you actually became a thing, his general reaction to his own jealousy was sadness and self loathing. So when you got together, knowing that he could actually allow himself to be close to you, his love language definetly became touch. He just loved to touch you, whether it was in an innocnt way or not. It's like he needed it. He would also be quite affectionate and funny, definetly the cockly Lannister in him. Fortunately enough there weren't many times in which he became jealous, but when he did, he usually just fucked it right out of you both, to put it lightly. On the other way, if any type of harm should come your way, now in that case his Tywin genes would definetly come through.

TYRION LANNISTER

Insecure, not overly jealous but anxious about your well being, trusting, sweet, funny, has your back

Tyrion has trauma. He really fucking does. Love? Trust? not his forte, either of them. So was he scared when he realized that he could be falling for you? Shitless. Just the mere fact that he met you in King's Landing made him think the craziest possible scenarios of how either his father or sister could've just come to you and say 'Trick that stupid little monster again, he deserves it'. He lowkey knew that it would've been insane, and he was being paranoid but at the same time you never know with those people.

You definetly made fun of people at court together. You also liked to actually argue about some topics, too. You weren't particularly fond of sewing when you were little, so your father made sure that you were at least well spoken, and honestly you didn't mind reading at all. On that you two would relate a lot.

You actually spent so much time together, and he loved how similiar you were. Mentally, that is. He would never even imagine to compare himself with something that he considered as beautiful as you. And even after making sure that you gained his trust, that remained a big issue for him. When he did actually get a grip and you got exclusive, or at least with each other, your relationship didn't change that much, except the sex and the teasing obviously. Tyrion's version of jealousy was more similiar to Jaime's. He wasn't actually jealous, per se, but he doubted himself and what he could give you more than anything.

You never, ever, gave him reason to, though. In that sense, you probably took more care of him than he did, and he really really appreciated you for that. He would've gladly ran away with you, but you both knew better than be reckless in a place full of backstabbers like King's Landing. You kind of had each other's back, and this understanding between you two allowed you to actually live your relationship peacefully.

Now, if Tyrion did feel that someone on his reach could actually try to do any harm to your or your relationship, Bronn would've taken care of it pretty quickly for him.

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saltydumplings · 2 years ago

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What about a hero who is accustomed to suppression self restraint who's finally reached their limit with hero work (lack of appreciation, overworked, sleep deprived, so on), who finally says "fuck all this, I'm done, I wanna be a villain's pet;" all to the great delight of the villain who's been flirting with them for months.

Bonus points if the hero's severely touch starved.

Request #16

Cw: suggestive. Though it actually turned out low-key really wholesome, lmao.

The villain's hands had been twitching over the button all morning. They were sat in the back of an inconspicuous van, watching surveillance footage of an alleyway just a little ways down from them - eyes staring at the screen intently as they waited.

The hero always took this route.

Sure, their patrol paths changed each week but this was the one constant between them. The villain knew it well: they'd spent months studying the other's patterns. Months digging into every little detail they could find - all things from the way in which they liked to fight to how they took their coffee; the measurements of their uniform and the growing list of villains they'd defeated... And now it was time to finally put that information to good use.

A few minutes passed and the villain found themself fiddling with the item in their pocket, their left leg bouncing up and down excitedly as they continued to wait - patience not generally being their strong suit but in this case they were sure it would be well rewarded. Or, at least, they hoped it would be.

Their eyes flickered over to the time on their watch and then back again.

They tried to remind themself that this was their first true attempt at catching the other - that if it didn't go to plan then it would only make their next attempt even stronger. But they wanted it to go to plan. They wanted it to work - had spent months researching to make sure that it did work or...well, actually the research was more for after it worked... which it would.

It would.

They checked the time on their watch again, frowning at the fact the hero still hadn't made an appearance yet.

Did they get it wrong? No, they couldn't have: they'd surveyed this alley all week and the hero had come down it every day without fault. Was another villain delaying them - perhaps they got sidetracked.

Or perhaps the villain really should have spent less time fantasising about what they'd do with the hero once they'd caught them, and spent more time focusing on the actual catching them part...

They eyed the button in front of them with a newfound uncertainty, wondering now whether they should have gone with something a little more complex. But a cage was classic: it was easy, affordable and good for transport. Not to mention the hero would look absolutely delectable behind bars.

It was kind of obvious though.

Actually, all the hero had to do was look up and the whole plan would be ruined.

It'll be ruined anyway if they don't even show up, the villain thought mournfully, taking note of the time once more before unlocking their phone - doing a quick browse of the local news. As far as they could tell, no fights involving the hero had been reported. They continued to scroll down, seeing if anything had arisen earlier without their knowledge but nothing was coming up. They refreshed the page, half expecting something to appear when a flash of movement caught their eye - their gaze darting up to stare at the camera footage and nearly dropping their phone in the sudden fit of excitement that seized them.

The hero was in the alleyway.

They were there - right there - just a few steps away from where the villain needed them to be.

The villain quickly deposited their phone off to the side, hands hovering over the button as their focus remained transfixed on the screen.

Yes, just a little further. Yes, yes - so close!

They watched as the hero moved forwards, clearly not a clue in the world as to what was about to happen.

Yes, a little more - that's it, almost there. Just four tiny steps away - yes, yes! - one, two...

The hero looked up.

They stopped.

NOOOOOO!

The villain internally cursed themself - what the hell had they been thinking?! Stupid cage. Stupid, obvious plan; stupid hero looking up and seeing the damn thing; stupid, stupid, stupid--

They groaned in exasperation, hands retreating away from the button to instead cover their face as the defeat hit them in waves.

They wanted it so badly... Wanted the hero so, so badly.

They glanced back up towards the screen, eyes scanning wistfully over the hero's frame as they stood beneath the villain's trap before they turned back to the rest of the van, figuring they'd better start packing up before--

Wait.

The villain rushed to turn back around, the sight of the hero standing exactly where they needed them almost making them giddy. Were they dreaming? Was - was this real? They slammed their hand down upon the button, watching as the cage dropped down to entrap the other - the hero not even trying to move aside as the bars blocked all ways of escape. The villain could hardly believe it - they caught them! They caught the hero, they did it, they caught them, they caught them!

They threw open the van's doors and scrambled out, all but running to the alleyway and squealing with delight at what they saw, making to run down it when--

Was this a trap?

Suddenly they forced themself to a halt, eyeing the other before them suspiciously. The hero had seen the cage, right? The villain had watched them look up - had thought for sure their plans had been foiled and yet...

They took a tentative step closer, head cocking to the side as they examined the hero within their trap: they were sat upon the ground, resting their head in one hand whilst the other tapped idly against the bars. They seemed...tired? Burnt out, even.

The villain's excitement turned to slight concern, closing the final bit of distance between them and soon coming to look down upon the other.

"Hero?" they asked.

The hero simply hummed, not bothering to turn their gaze upwards.

"You...you saw that this was a trap, right?"

"Yes," the hero said.

The villain frowned. "Then why step into it?"

At this, the hero sighed as they came to stare up at them, gaze weary as they regarded the villain with a look that was almost pleading. "Because," they said, "I need a holiday...if that's alright with you."

"You - you need a holiday?" the villain parroted.

"Yeah, and I, um, I already used up all my a-annual leave so..."

The villain blinked. "So you came to me?"

The hero blushed a little and the villain's eyes widened at the sight, a little of their excitement starting to return at the implication.

"Well, y-yeah," the hero said. "I-I mean you're always talking about, y-you know, and I just thought that - if I couldn't have a legal holiday then..."

"You consider being kidnapped by me a holiday?"

Oh, the hero was adorable - the villain had never seen them so shy before and they were revelling in it. Usually the other was so conserved when they fought, barely letting anything slip whenever the villain made their comments but here, now, they were like an open book, ready for the villain to read from.

Willingly.

The hero had come to them willingly - the villain could have danced: this was better than any plan they could have ever conjured!

The red tint covering the hero's cheeks seemed to darken slightly, their gaze flitting away for a moment. "On holidays you're meant to, um, enjoy yourself, right? Well, last time we spoke, you said that y-you would...spoil me. I-If you caught me which, now, you have."

The villain nodded eagerly, hands itching to touch the other as they leant down a little, wanting to get closer.

"Oh, Hero, I'll give you everything," they said, perhaps a little too quickly. They reigned themself back a bit - trying not to show too much of their excitement as they cleared their throat. "I-In return for good behaviour, of course," they added.

The hero huffed a laugh - the more confident side of them that the villain was well acquainted with starting to seep back through. "Villain, I'm a hero: good behaviour is kind of my thing."

"Then you won't have a problem getting on your knees for me?"

The villain had meant it as a command but it ended up coming out as a question instead. As much as they wanted this - oh, how they wanted this - they were still trying to play it somewhat carefully: they didn't want to scare the hero away, especially when it seemed the other was trusting them to give them the escape they clearly needed.

They held their breath, waiting to see what the other would do.

And the hero did not disappoint.

In seconds, the hero shifted their position, moving up a little and readjusting their legs so they were kneeling - their hands clasped neatly in their lap as their blush showed fully. Their gaze focused down to the floor and the villain dared to reach a hand through the bars, catching the hero's chin and softly tilting their head back a bit. The movement was smooth - the hero putting up no resistance whatsoever - and as soon as they met the villain's eyes the scene was perfect.

So completely, utterly, perfect - the hero was so perfect; so obedient, so cute, so completely theirs...

The villain couldn't help the delighted squeal of excitement that escaped their throat: they could dance, they could sing! Oh, it was all better than they could have ever dreamed, they were finally getting a pet - getting the hero as their pet, yes, yes, yes--

They cleared their throat, trying to get their mood to sober a little when they caught the hero smiling at them - an amused curl tugging up the corners of their lips. The hero wasn't meant to be amused, they were meant to be scared damnit! Well, not scared scared - the good kind of scared: suspense. Anticipation.

"G-Good," the villain said, ignoring the knowing look in the hero's eyes and trying to get back on track. "That's good - very good."

Their hand came up to stroke through the hero's hair, the other's amusement waning slightly as they shivered under the soft touch - practically melting. The villain used it to their advantage immediately, making sure to remind the hero exactly who was in charge here before they got any smart ideas.

"Now," they said, "just how long did you plan on this little holiday being?"

The hero bit their lip, hands fidgetting in their lap as they thought. "N-No longer than two weeks, I think."

The villain smiled. "Make it three."

"What? No! I have interviews coming up at the end of next month, the hero agency needs--"

"Hero, love, either you make it three or I'll make it four." The villain's hand came to a halt and gripped the hero's hair instead, just barely tugging at it in warning. It was nowhere near enough to hurt but certainly enough to get their point across.

A few seconds of silence passed between them, the hero pouting a little but their blush told the villain all they needed to know. They tightened their hold just the tiniest bit more - heart fluttering at the small sound that escaped the hero's throat.

"F-Fine," the hero said eventually. "Three weeks - b-but no more!"

The villain grinned and let go, revelling in the way the hero almost seemed to chase after their touch - their eyes practically fixed onto the villain's hand as it retreated back through the bars.

Oh yes, perfect - so perfect!

"We'll see about that..." they said. "You never know: perhaps after three weeks you'll want to stay."

The hero huffed. "I think it would take a lot of spoiling on your part," they replied.

"Well then, it's a good thing you didn't manage to catch me when I robbed the bank last month, isn't it?" the villain said with a small hum, knowing they'd won when the hero simply glared a little in response. They took a moment just to look the other over once more, eyes scanning up and down with an intensity that was almost feverish before they prepared to turn away. "Now, you just sit there and look pretty while I fetch the van - it's just around the corner, I'll barely be a minute so--"

"Villain?"

They'd started walking back up the alley but they quickly turned back, spying the hero looking at them with that same knowing smile from before.

"Yes?" they asked, somewhat anxiously.

The hero couldn't possibly change their mind now...could they?

The hero cocked their head to the side slightly, the manner of their voice taking on a more playful tone. "You know, you're allowed to be excited about this, right?"

The villain flushed a little, trying not to let their embarrassment show as they snapped out a reply. "O-Of course I know that!"

"Good," the hero said. Their hands came to rest upon the bars, legs moving to shuffle just a little closer. "You, um, you're cute when you're excited..."

A pause.

The villain could hardly find the words to speak so they didn't, simply turning back and all but sprinting down the alley and out of sight, rushing to fish the van keys from their pocket and get the hero back to their lair as soon as possible. If they happened to twirl around a lamppost or two on their way there then what of it?

The hero was right - they were allowed to be excited - but they'd be damned if they let the other know it.

#writing snippet #heroxvillain snippet #heroxvillain #hero x villain #hero #villain

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a-lil-perspective · 4 years ago

Text

70 Encouragements/Tips For The Writer:

A/N: Rules don’t exist. These are real and personal and stem from a deteriorating, exhausted Writer who is here to tell you (and herself) that you are amazing and keep going. I hope you find some encouragement within.

Your mental health comes first and foremost.

Indulge and embrace your creative writing pieces when they come (and when they don’t). Especially when they don’t.

Suffering from Writer’s Block or fluctuating hyperfixation? Me too. So is your favorite author. Welcome to the Writer’s Block Party (all my uwus if you see the pun).

Did you spend five hours on this one segment, forget the last time you ate, develop chapped lips, dry eyes, and a stiff back (time to get up and move), bang your head on the wall, laugh, cry, fidget, take your ADHD meds, deviate to watch YouTube, have an epiphany, curse in frustration and wonder why the hell you do this to yourself? Congratulations, you’re a Writer.

Embrace all the not-so-glamorous sides of writing, and accept the fact they’re going to happen time over again.

When you say “just one more line” and it’s 2:00 AM, I’ll be here to remind you to “go to sleep” (because I’m also depriving myself lol).

Actually, sleeping helps your mind feel refreshed, and it’s good for your health. If you’re struggling with a particular segment, one of the best things you can do is just put a cap on it for the time being, put in a placeholder, and get some shut eye. I know you don’t want to. But you will feel so much better and have more clarity and energy to continue when you wake. Trust me.

More often than not, those words you “just didn’t write down fast enough and now forgot” end up revealing themselves to you later in a much more profound way. Give the words time to get ready. They’re just spiffing up before coming to visit. :)

Be proud of yourself and your prose. Writing is an amazing part of who you are.

That trope has been written 1000 times before? Make it 1001.

You’ve already written this scenario? Write it again.

You’ve just written a single sentence. Now sit back for moment and think: you just wrote something brand new, never before seen. Nobody out there will ever write that sentence or formulate those thoughts the exact same way. You are a unique, mind-blowing, awe-inspiring human being.

Bask in the excitement that comes with a completed piece. Reflect on what you learned throughout and celebrate the little victories.

Don’t be afraid to ask for feedback, but also understand that you might not always get it, and that is OK.

Please re-read your work. Be gentle with yourself. You had to write that very first piece to get to where you are now. Love the process.

Your personal writing success is not based off of kudos or likes or reblogs.

There is no right or wrong way to write.

There is no such thing as “good” writing.

Improvement is becoming of everyone so get comfy, strap in. The journey of a Writer is a lifelong one. Here’s to many more works ahead.

Don’t mourn the words you did or didn’t write. Celebrate the ones you will.

One day, you’ll read a piece that will blow you away—and it will be yours.

There is nothing “shameful” about reblogging your own writing works.

I promise you’ll find your “wow” piece—either in something you’ve already written, or something yet to come.

Baby. Please don’t write out of spite. You’re better than that.

You are just as valid/deserving as the next Writer. And you do belong.

If you feel sad/unworthy when sharing your works or interacting with others’, get to the root of why. Writing should be fun, rewarding, and relaxing. Not shameful, embarrassing, or a chore.

Writing (fanfiction, specifically) is labeled as “transformative works”. Self-explanatory, right? However, if you notice the transformative part begin to have a personal effect on you—a negative one—it’s time to take a step back.

Right now, I can name a single quality you possess: diligence. How do I know? Because you’re a Writer, and the two go hand-in-hand.

Got that single scene in your head but you haven’t completed or even began all the chapters preceding? Bruh. Jot that down right now. You don’t need 20k words beforehand.

Embrace your writing mood swings. The stray, sweet and condensed blurbie. The ideal, bridging drabble. The solid, substantial oneshot. The hefty, elaborate 10k word chapter. Appreciate everything in-between, and that you are capable of all of it.

Nobody remembers that extra word or typo or stray speech mark back all the way back in chapter 3. Tell the little monster in your head to go to hell.

You’re not a weirdo for making facial expressions and mulling through your dialogue aloud. You. Are. A. Writer.

It’s OK if the Readers can’t always see exactly what you envisioned in your head, or the full extent of the picture you painted. We all see colors differently.

Don’t be afraid to experiment with your writing.

In fact, challenge yourself to dabble into a new plot/trope/concept every day, even if only for a few minutes. You may discover you love writing it.

There’s no rush to finish/begin any written work. If you take your time, you will make your mark. You’re not falling behind or running late. Slow down and wait for it. :)

Three cheers for hiatus.

Listen to your body and mind, know your limits and when it’s time to take a break.

Actually take a break. :)

If you feel like you’re falling stagnant in creativity, looking to/revisiting other forms of creative media can help encourage the flow.

Ask for encouragement, and be at peace with asking.

Take shelter in fellow writers. Uplift each other always.

You are/will be someone’s favorite author. :)

You don’t have anything to prove. You have something to share.

Someone is thinking about your work right now.

Someone started a series because they drew inspiration from you.

Personal writing style can reflect a lot on the state of one’s mental health. Try to always be attentive to that of your own.

Self-validation must be cultivated early on or nothing will ever work.

Freestyle every once in a while. Write a snippet, timed, and go—without editing. Write the first thing that comes to mind and go from there. Do it all the way through the set time. When it stops, you’ll find yourself unable to. 3,800 words here we come. :)

Not everything needs an outline. :)

It is completely normal to write your story out of order.

Create guidelines for yourself. If they aren’t working, toss ‘em.

Word vomiting can help you feel better (it’s just how it sounds). By clearing all those jumbled thoughts and scattered concepts, you achieve a clearer objective. Try it sometime.

A rough draft is supposed to be rough.

Sometimes the words come to you quicker than others. Be patient. That is merely the construct of a Writer’s mind. You’re a beautiful enigma.

A sentence written is a story progressing.

Writing is an endurance sport. You must pace yourself and exercise it daily.

You are still a Writer even when the words aren’t on the actual page.

You’re not obligated to a writing/posting schedule.

As you progress in your journey and gain more awareness, don’t sacrifice your style. Those beginning works are what define you. Hold onto them and don’t ever let them go.

You’re the only one cringing—

Remember that sometimes words are elusive and you don’t always have control over them, and that is OK. Sometimes they write themselves. Sometimes your characters come to life and break out into dance across your page. Dance with them. You can wrangle them back when the music stops. :)

There is nothing condemning or embarrassing about asking for a beta. Allow someone to help carry the load.

Allow people to cheer you on—even if they don’t read your work.

It’s OK if your writing style isn’t someone else’s preference.

Be your biggest cheerleader. Sometimes you are all you have.

You don’t need anyone’s approval except your own.

You love that trope/concept/story you just wrote? That’s all that matters. The end.

You will never write good. You will write you. And that is good.

Above all else: remember to write for you.🤍

#writers #fanfiction writers #writing encouragement #writer appreciation #writer support #writer struggles #writing motivation #writers tips #for writers #omg am I struggling.#hope these help you beautiful people #my writing #it’s a lil thing

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writersmorgue · 3 years ago

Text

Something Immortal

word count - 3k

warnings: suicide attempt, drug use, addiction, cursing, teenagers being gross

pairing: model!Todoroki x canon!Bakugo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Holy shit guys he posted!!" Mina squeals, vaulting herself over the couch to reach the rest of the Bakusquad sitting on the common room carpet. An old original copy of Monopoly splayed out in the center of their group.

"Ooh, show us! Show us!" Kaminari leans forward, swiping half of the properties off the board in the process.

Sero groans, "Dude you do this every time!!"

The blond pouts, "Hey it's your fault I was losing."

Kirishima just chuckles, picking up his dog piece from jail and throwing it into the box.

"Your smart people game can wait," Mina tugs on Sero's ponytail, "He hasn't posted in weeks."

"Oh my god he's so fucking hot," Kaminari's knee-jerk reaction is whispered as soon as he sees the post.

Todoroki Shouto, one of Japan- and America's- most well-known models. The teenager, who happens to be their age, regularly models for magazines like Vogue, Joker, and Elle. The teenager who has starred in countless American and Japanese short and independent films. The teenager who just so happens to be the son of the number one hero, Endeavor.

No one knows his quirk, but it just adds to the mystery. Some people theorize he's quirkless, but others think he's got a crazy dangerous quirk, which is why he's a model instead of an aspiring hero. Not like he's not perfect for the job, with his gorgeous bi-colored hair and heterochromatic eyes. The scar on his left side somehow only adds to his beauty. It doesn't matter what your sexuality is, you simp for Todoroki Shouto.

But that's the obvious, now this photo- this photo.

"It's ethereal, I've never seen him look so serene before."

"He's an actual angel."

"How is he only eighteen?!"

Mina nods as Sero, Kaminari, and Kirishima go through the seven stages of grief just looking at the photo.

Kirishima's eyes dart to Todoroki's username... which is just Shouto. In fact, the Todoroki name isn't mentioned once on his account, a fact that has hundreds of conspiracy theories on its own.

"Hey Meens, can we stalk him real quick? I wanna see who he's following."

She grins, "Well anything for you, munchkin."

Sero snorts. Their couple nicknames never fail to amuse anyone within hearing range.

"Ugh gross," Kaminari gags as Mina giggles, swiping off of the picture (which already has over 600,000) and onto his main page.

It's simple, plain yet elegant in the way only a PR manager could manage.

The bio is a link to his most recent shoot with some magazine that Kirishima doesn't recognize, the profile picture is a rare shot of him smiling, a blue checkmark, and a follower count of over four million.

His following count, however, is the shocker.

"He only follows fourteen people?" Sero whispers, clicking on the number.

"Huh," Mina turns the phone slightly so she can see, "Who is he following?"

"Let's see," Sero squints, eyes scrolling down the list, "Hawks... his siblings... Mirko... some American models... his agency's profile... and- wait, isn't that Bakugo?"

"HAH?" Mina yells, whipping the phone around and clicking on the profile.

Sure enough, a slew of photos shows up on her screen, all of their resident blond pomeranian glaring at the camera in various locations.

"He- WHAT?? It must be a glitch!" Mina scrambles frantically, eyes darting across the screen.

"Uh, yeah," Kirishima chuckles, "a glitch."

Mina scrolls up numerous times as if refreshing the page will help.

"I mean what other explanation can you think of?! It's not like Thee Todoroki Shouto would know our Bakugou, they're totally in different leagues." Mina sounds absolutely scandalized, causing Sero to laugh.

"I don't know, Meens, the proof is right there. We should ask him about it!"

"And what- DIE?" Kaminari reasons.

Sero nods, "Fair point."

"Pussies." Mina stands, planting her manicured hands on the edge of the couch, "I'll ask him myself."

"I REFUSE." A fourteen-year-old Shouto screams at his father.

"what do you mean you refuse? Shouto she's a lovely girl, and you need to procreate while you're still young if you're not going to become a hero like I want. You get one or the other." Todoroki Enji grabs his youngest child by the arm to lead him out of the kitchen, but Shouto jerks out of his grip. "Wh- SHOUTO."

"I'm going to live with Fuyumi. She'll take care of me." He holds his ground, shaking his father off when he tries once again to physically lead him out of the room.

"OH?" Enji bellows a laugh, "And how do you expect she'll find the money to take you in? Raising a teenager is expensive, you know, and she's only a simple school teacher."

"She's not a simple anything. And I- I'll find a way. We'll be fine. I already talked to several agencies."

"...agencies?"

"Wait, Mina!!" Kaminari calls after the girl, but she's a woman on a mission and there's no stopping her.

They arrive at Bakugo's door in a heap, Kaminari clawing at Mina while she knocks calmly. Kirishima and Sero stand to watch because they have no idea what else to do. (They're just as nervous as Kaminari but they're more afraid of Mina if they're being honest.)

A crash comes from inside the room, but soon their resident angry boy is slamming open his door and glaring at them. The normalcy is comforting.

"Do you fuckers realize what fucking time it is?"

"Yes~" Mina coos sweetly, "I know old men need their sleep but it's only 8:30 and we have a question."

He sighs aggressively and stretches his arms behind his back, cracking his shoulders and then his neck, Kaminari whimpers in fear.

"Alright, what do you want pinky?"

She's practically vibrating with excitement at this point.

"Why is Todoroki Shouto following you on Instagram?"

Bakugo seems to mull over this for a moment, and then he just shrugs.

Mina nods like this answers any part of her question, "That's what I thought, funny glitch. He's pretty hot though, right?"

The rest of the group nods emphatically.

Bakugo scratches his leg with his other heel, "He's not ugly, I guess."

Mina waves her arms around in Bakugo's general direction, "See!!? Even the straight guy agrees!!"

"No one was disagreeing with you, Mina." Sero snickers.

Bakugo grunts, then promptly slams the door in their faces.

"Well I guess that was more than he'd usually do at this time, we're lucky we didn't get exploded." Kirishima muses.

Kaminari nods, shuddering at the thought.

"Welp! That answers our question!" Although it really didn't, no one was about to argue with Mina, "Anyway I'm going to bed."

"Say hi to your vibe for me!" Sero whispers after her.

She waves as she marches away, humming to herself.

Shouto stares at the street below.

He wonders if he'd die falling from a height like this. He hopes he doesn't hit anyone.

Slowly, he removes his expensive sneakers, dropping them on the modelling agency's roof beside him. It's breezy tonight, and Shouto, freshly sixteen, has nothing to live for anymore. So he won't.

Stepping carefully over the guardrail, not sure why since he's about to jump. Maybe part of him is still afraid.

Whatever he can get over it.

His thin frame wobbles in the wind, and he breathes deeply, too focused on relaxing to notice the roof door opening, and hurried steps coming up behind him.

A warm hand grabs him, almost startling him off the side of the building.

The interruption heaves heavy breaths in his ear as they both topple down onto the concrete floor.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" Oh, it's Bakugo.

The only child of his manager, Mitsuki Bakugo, who happens to be a nosy little shit who can't stay out of other people's business.

"Get OFF" Shouto shoves him, frantically scrambling toward the railing again. He needs this.

"NO! Todoroki get the fuck back-"

"It's SHOUTO." blood spurts onto his gray sweater and he realizes with muted horror that he just elbowed his employer's son in the nose.

"Fuck I'm so sorry, are you okay?" He bends down, removing his trashed pullover, and holds it to his friend's nose.

Bakugo snorts, "Sorry- Shouto I mean." He winces when Shouto presses harder into his face, "I'll forgive you if you don't jump."

Shouto sighs, "You know why I was going to."

Bakugo visibly calms at the use of past tense, the outburst must have snapped him out of it.

"Your mom, right?" Shouto tenses.

"Yeah I- he barred me from ever seeing her again and I- I don't know what to do." He shudders and pulls his pills from his pants pocket.

He wonders what his mom would say if she found out her baby was addicted to drugs.

Bakugou frowns but lets his friend take the pill, not sure what to say.

"Fucking piece of shit. Is that even legal?"

"Legally the number two hero can do whatever the fuck he wants. We live in a flawed world, Bakugo.

"I- Shouto."

"Hmm?" Shouto collapses onto the ground, crunching the pill and sighing as he feels the effects start to take almost immediately.

"I care- I care about you, okay? So please let me help you. Let me get you help."

A tear slips down to Shouto's ear without his permission, he wipes it away as quickly as it came.

"I don't know, Bakugo. You haven't exactly seemed to like me in the past. Even though I like to think we're friends I know you don't feel the same." He frowns, admiring the shine of wetness on his palm in the moonlight.

Bakugo grumbles, "Don't fuckin' tell me what I do and don't feel. I really fuckin' care about you even though I'm an ass about it, okay? I'm not good with emotions so don't expect much from me. But I do want you to be happy and I don't think the uh- the pills are helping."

The blond holds out a hand and reluctantly Shouto slaps the container into it.

"Fine," he mumbles, "you're uh- not as bad as I thought."

Bakugo snorts, "You're just as bad as I thought, but I like you anyway."

Against his will, Shouto finds himself blushing, thankful that it's mostly hidden in the dark.

"C'mon," Bakugo gestures to his own chest, "I know you could use one."

Shouto whimpers as he curls himself into the blond's strong frame. He's built a lot of muscle since starting at UA this year.

A strong hand rubs along his back and Shouto finds he can't hold back his tears any longer as the shock starts to set in.

Fuck he almost just killed himself.

"Thanks, Bakugo."

"I almost just watched you die, you can call me Katsuki."

"Thanks, Katsuki."

"No problem, Shouto."

The Bakusquad once again finds themselves playing a game on the common room floor, this time Sorry, much to Sero's chagrin.

"Sorry!" Kirishima grins cheekily as he kicks Sero's piece back to his home base.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck you guys-" He groans, flopping back onto the loveseat behind him, only to get an eyeful of Bakugo Katsuki's ass, "Oh hey Bakugou!"

"Wh- OI TAPE FACE WATCH WHERE THE HELL YOU'RE LOOKING-"

Sero snickers, patting Bakugou on the hip, "Sorry dude, it was literally right there."

Small explosions popped from Bakugo's hands as he growled down at Sero.

"Aw come on blasty he's just playing and WHERE are you going dressed like that???!!!"

Bakugo blushes and tugs his light blue blazer down farther.

"I have a date." He mutters, tugging his sleeves.

“Sorry,” Kaminari laughs, “I think I misheard you. Sounded like you said ‘I have a date.’”

Bakugo rolls his eyes, “Because I do, dipshit.” He sighs, checking his -expensive-looking- watch, “Just watch the independent film awards when they’re on. I think it’s like four hours from now that it starts.”

“Whyyyy would you have anything to do with that?” Kirishima groans, very lost.

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugo grunts, digging his phone out of his pocket when it vibrates and checking something before humming and striding towards the front door.

He looks unusually elegant, hair slicked back probably as well as Bakugo’s hair can be, shirt tucked in, a few rings on his fingers, barely visible and yet beautifully drawn eyeliner. He’s… pretty.

The three remaining members of the Bakusquad, as well as the rest of the common room, sit there in awe as he shoves a permission slip in Iida’s blubbering face.

“I- Wh- Bakugo is this from Aizawa? You cannot just leave!!”

“Fuck off glasses, I have his fuckin’ blessing or whatever.”

“Bakugo!”

The blond shoots a middle finger off behind him and slams the door shut, leaving a stunned common room in his wake.

“Uh, well, that happened.” Jirou drones blandly from her place on the couch with Momo.

“Awards show watch party, anyone?!” Uraraka grins, standing, “I’ll get the mochi!!”

“I’ll make tea,” Momo stands as well, dusting off her perfectly clean jeans. Jirou groans at the loss of her girlfriend’s warmth and flops over on the couch.

“This is stupid, he probably got invited by some pro hero and he’s just going to yell at the paparazzi if he’s even gonna be there.” She pouts.

“Well,” Sero grins, “anyone wanna play Monopoly while we wait?”

Kaminari throws the Sorry board at his head.

“Alright, is everyone ready!!? The red carpet is about to start!!” Hagakure squeals, even though the entirety of class 3-A (minus Bakugo) is there.

“So… what exactly are we watching this for?” Shinsou scratches the back of his neck.

“Bakugo’s going to be in it apparently, the study group earlier saw him in the common room wearing a suit.” Ojiro answers.

“Not just a suit!!” Mina holds her hands out as if to deliver groundbreaking news, “A fancy suit.”

“Aren’t all suits fancy?”

“Shut up.”

“OOH LOOK there’s Arai Itō and Chiba Yoshida!! Aww, they’re so cute!” Uraraka swoons, clasping her hands together.

“I wonder when Kacchan is gonna come out, these things can take a while.”

“I honestly don’t even care, I heard Todoroki Shouto is nominated for an award this year!! Do you remember that really sad short film he was in about having an overdose? Gosh, I hope he wins.” Hagakure’s hair bow vibrates excitedly.

“THERE HE IS THERE HE IS!!!!!” She points at the bottom of the screen where a man in a pale blue dress has stepped out of a limo and onto the carpet, a heeled foot gracefully raising him to his full 6’2”.

“Holy shit he’s gorgeous.” Sero breathes, the reporters on screen basically saying the same thing.

Shouto reaches behind him and holds out a hand for the second person stepping out of the limo, broad shoulders, a shorter stature than Shouto especially with the heels, spiky blond hair, piercing red eyes-

…

“HOLY SHIT IS THAT BAKUGOU??”

The aerial camera pans down toward the blond, showing off his suit- which matches Shouto’s dress perfectly- and his, what appears to be professionally done hair.

“Holy shit does he have an undercut now!!?? We just saw him a few hours ago!” Mina screeches.

Momo shrugs, “They do that sort of thing for celebrities.” She sips her tea, unphased.

“Okay okay, we’re all ignoring the most important part. Kacchan is Todoroki’s date.” Izuku frantically waves his arms around.

“I didn’t know they knew each other,” Tokoyami muses.

“What the fuck is happening?” Sero asks no one in particular.

“Wait everyone SHUT UP they’re announcing awards!!!! Todoroki might win one! We can ask Bakugo about this when he gets back. Surely there’s an interesting story.” Uraraka chimes in, handing out mochi and popcorn.

The tv’s voice is muffled under the muttering of several class 3-A members, but Mina turns it up as the male announcer reads the winners of the award Todoroki is nominated for.

“AAAAAAAAND THE WINNER FOR BEST ACTOR IN A DRAMA SHORT ISSSSSSSSS…

TODOROKI SHOUTO!!! For his work in The End of Me and the incredible performance that shocked-”

Cheers ring through the dorms, popcorn goes flying, and Mina frantically shushes everyone as Shouto makes his way gracefully onto the stage. He accepts the award from the previous winner, bowing elegantly and stepping up to the mic.

“Hello everyone,” He begins, shooting a shy smile directly into the camera. It has always perplexed his fans how nervous he can be in real life compared to in his photoshoots. “This is a really important award to me, not only am I incredibly grateful to the panel for gracing this title upon me, but as of yesterday,” He smiles at the ground, taking a deep breath, “I’m two years clean.”

Shocked gasps ricochet through the award hall as well as through the crowd gathered around the tv.

“He did drugs, kero?” Tsu whispers.

“Mon dieux,” Aoyama shakes his head, pressing a hand to his chest, “how brave.”

Shouto clears his breath and continues, “In fact, that wasn’t the worst of it at the time, and I’m incredibly grateful to all who have supported me through my career. You keep me sane, and you keep me going. But especially, I’d like to thank my sister, brother, and my wonderful boyfriend-”

He holds an arm out to someone in the audience, and the camera pans to none other than Bakugou Katsuki, “who quite literally saved my life, and helped me drive myself back on track. I love you Katsuki, and you continue to improve my life every second that you’re in it.”

Most of 3-A are in tears at this point, and as Bakugo half-heartedly scowls into the camera, they can tell his eyes are shining too.

Shouto glances back at the camera as if directing his words to someone in particular.

“Thank you.”

And then he’s walking back down to his seat as the audience provides him with a standing ovation.

“THEY’RE DATING,” Mina sobs, shaking Kirishima’s shoulders as he sits, staring slack-jawed at the television.

“Yeah, yeah they are.”

Katsuki does NOT wipe tears from his eyes as he helps Shouto sit back down in his seat, but his boyfriend definitely does. His mascara, thankfully waterproof, still holds strong.

Shouto shoots him a watery smile, rubbing his arm as he pulls the blond into a hug.

“Happy two years, Katsuki.”

66 notes · View notes

mageofseven · 4 years ago

Text

The Demon Brothers when Discovering they’re in Love

Spoilers: Mentions the end of the first season of the game in Belphie’s. If you haven’t read that far yet, you’ve been warned.

Lucifer:

Feels rather torn when he comes to this realization.

On one hand, he feels that the object of his affection has become too much of a distraction.

The amount of times he finds himself spacing out while doing paperwork because thoughts of you plague his mind is truly appalling to him

But still, he gets lost in the care that you give him and finds your reliability refreshing.

All the nights he stayed up to get his work done and you came in with some coffee to help him along, sometimes unprompted; it’s like you just know when he needs a little boost.

You even remember that he likes his coffee with a shot of poison. It’s truly the little things like that where he gets lost in your consideration.

Then there are the nights where even some small part of him realizes that pushed himself too far.

It would have been his fourth consecutive night without sleep if it weren’t for you.

“Luce?”

The man didn’t look up from his paperwork. Instead, he finished signing the document before switching papers and starting to skim through it.

“Thank you, MC. Just set it on the desk.” He said, assuming you had just brought him coffee as usual.

“I’m sorry.” You say as you step in. “That’s not it.”

The Avatar of Pride finally looked up and sighed as he saw your empty hands.

“Then what is it? I’m afraid I have neither the time nor energy to chat right now.”

“That’s the point, Lucifer.” You say, approaching his desk. “You need sleep.”

He scoffed at your words. “I can assure you that I am more than capable of doing my work without a few nights of rest.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t, Lucifer.” You lay your hand on his forearm. “I know you are capable, but still. Please, just sleep.”

He looked up into your eyes and sighed. They held no hint of deceit or trickery. He had grown so used to looking for such signs in people, most commonly in his brothers, but in this moment, he only saw genuine worry in those beautiful orbs.

When was the last time he had seen such? When was the last time someone had shown real concern for him?

The man couldn’t recall.

“Alright.” He relented. “I’ll put the papers away for now, but I expect you to head to bed as well. It’s nearing 3am.”

It was that night, as he laid in bed, that he tried to decipher the feelings within him, floating around in his chest.

When he realized it was love, the man could only shake his head at the thought. After all, he had no time for such feelings, he told himself.

But the more he dismissed them, the stronger they seemed to be within him.

The man even spaced out during a conversation with Diavolo one morning and was mortified with himself.

Obviously, Diavolo was more curious than upset though.

After some pressing from the prince, Lucifer sighed and explained the issue that plagued him.

I don’t think it would be possible for Lord Diavolo to have a bigger grin on his face than he did in that moment.

The prince congratulates his friend on finding someone that inspires such feelings within him and asks about when he’s gonna ask you out.

Lucifer waves away his friend’s words, but the thought stays with him throughout the day.

It would be a lie to say that he doesn’t want to date you, but the man’s pride has always told him that he doesn’t need such a relationship with others, most especially a human.

However, you were no ordinary human. To him, you were special; he could admit that much to himself.

When he finally does ask you out, he’s as calm and collected as he is with anything else

…except for the hint of a blush on his cheeks, seen by only the most observant of people.

This boy is not as in denial about his feelings as you might think.

Mammon:

Mammon recognizes his feelings for you fairly quickly and is pretty honest about it.

At least, he’s pretty honest with himself with the subject, just not with other people.

He knew he had feelings for you since day one. What he should do about them, however, was the questions.

Yeah, he spent a lot of time denying it to his brothers, but that was mostly because he didn’t want you to know until he got himself sorted out.

That and he didn’t wanna risk his brothers ruining things for him. I mean yeah, he’s had some small crushes, but they never lasted long and none involved feelings this strong.

He just really, really didn’t want to fuck this up.

So he spent a long time keeping his feelings to himself; months easily passing.

Every time he saw you smile or when he heard you speak in defense of him with his brothers, he could feel his face go hot and chest tighten.

You really felt like his human when you did stuff like that. Still, no matter how many times he said it or felt it, it didn’t make it true; not officially at least.

One day, you both were hanging out in his room, studying together.

Well, you were studying. Mammon was just kinda half-assing it. He only agreed to this so he could spend more time with you after all.

Boy was getting all fidgety as he thought…maybe now was a good time to tell you?

You both were alone together, which made things easier. He definitely didn’t want to actually sit here and study either.

Not to mention, if he had to hide his feelings any longer, the poor boy felt as if he’d just burst.

“Oi, MC! I got something to say so you better listen up!”

Your eyes flickered up at him and then back down to your notes, searching for a specific section.

“I’m listening.” You say as you go back to skimming through the page.

Nervous boy looks away from you.

“So…the Great Mammon likes you, alright!” He told you, booming with fake confidence.

“I know.” You tell him, not even looking up from your notebook.

That’s…that’s it? You must not get it. His tone starts to falter.

“I…no! I don’t mean just like!” He leaned in closer to you. “I… I meant I love you!”

You lift your head and smile at him.

“I know.” You tell him before leaning in and kissing his cheek.

The Avatar of Greed’s brain starts to short circuit. Was it really that easy all along?

You laugh at how red his face gets and find it cute. You always had feelings for Mammon and honestly, as much as he tries to be otherwise, he is an open book. Not just you, but everyone knew he had feelings for you. It was just a question of when he would admit it and you had waited patiently for him.

Leviathan:

This boy struggles to even identify the feelings within him for the longest time.

When the feelings do form inside him, he starts becoming a lot more red in the face over the simplest things.

Blushy boy is overwhelmed by basically any compliment you give him.

“Holy–Levi, I was stuck on that level for past month!” You tell him, practically buzzing from excitement. “You’re amazing!”

Levi.exe has stopped working.

It’s not just what you say that makes his brain freeze up. It’s your sweet, excited tone, your smile. The fuzzy feeling in him that tells him he did good. All of it is too much for his brain.

Honestly thinks something is wrong with him when you fixed his tie for him one morning because it was messy and all he could think about for the next ten minutes was the fact that you touched him.

Wait, why did you fix his tie? He always wears it loose like that and you never commented on it before...

Otaku boy is very upset with himself right now.

Tries to avoid you for a while, but after a couple days of this, he heard you asking his brothers if you did something wrong and what you could do to apologize to him.

Poor boy felt bad that he was making you feel guilty when you didn’t even do anything wrong.

Invites you to watch anime with him so you can stop worrying.

He tries his best to act like his usual self with you and honestly, it was pretty easy with him getting so absorbed with the show.

At one point, he had to pause it to rant about something the protagonist just said.

“I can’t believe it! They completely contradicted part of her character progression from season two! And have the gall to completely ignore that they did it!”

Boy was so annoyed until you stopped him. You pointed out a couple moments from mid-season three and one from season 4 that actually make the protagonist’s words very in character for them.

In the back of his mind, he’s really beating himself up for forgetting that one scene between Tsusaki and Momo

If it had been anyone else or if it was you, but at a different point in your friendship, he honestly would be livid to hear you make such a contradiction.

Levi has bonded with you for so long at this point though that he’s just impressed with your memory and character analysis ability.

I mean, he shouldn’t expect anything less from his Henry, but still, the boy is still loving this.

He’s found someone that not only enjoys the same nerdy stuff that he likes, but can actually have discussions about at the same level. You understand him just like you understand the anime on the screen and it’s characters.

At some point, he kinda got lost in his thoughts about you, checking out in favor of such thoughts instead of your words.

A smile slowly formed on his face as he thought about just how great it was that he found you. Or like, that you came to him, I guess.

He got so lost in all the good things about your friendship that he didn’t even realize at first when his thoughts were becoming words off his lips and had no time to censor himself.

“Man, this is great. This is why I love you.”

Silence.

Levi started panicking, realizing what he just said.

You sat in your seat, confused and a bit flustered.

After all, he interrupted you mid-sentence to blurt that out.

“Gaaah, I didn’t mean that!” He shouted. “Okay, maybe I did; I don’t really know, I just–aaaah I’m such a stupid, no-good–”

His words are stopped by your kiss. It only lasted for a second though because the boy quickly bounced back and covered his mouth with his hand.

You give a small chuckle at his reaction.

“Don’t worry so much.” You tell him. “I’m glad you told me.”

“H…Huh??”

“I…” You blush. “I actually have feelings for you too. I’m glad you said something first or I would have never been able to do… that.”

Levi is stuck wondering what the heck just happened, but as he starts to settle down, he decides he doesn’t really care; he likes how things have ended up.

Satan:

Is another brother that is not really good with his emotions.

Instead of panicking or getting overwhelmed with this new feeling inside of him though, he faces it with calm curiosity instead.

It’s hard for him to fully understand any emotion that is not anger, but he’s always trying to expand his knowledge on such things.

So when he starts noticing how small things you do cause his heart to race or a blush creep onto his cheeks, he’s not shying away; on the contrary, he seeks you out even more, wanting to spend time with you so he can analyze these feelings as they come.

He starts asking if you need some help studying more often since the answer is almost always yes. Study sessions with Satan are always very productive.

He starts lending books out to you even when you don’t ask. He brings you books that made him think of you as he read them, but doesn’t tell you that and presents them as a simple recommendation.

Always feels a sense of satisfaction when you accept them and come to his room later on to discuss them.

Starts reading more books on interactions between people to understand his seemingly strong awareness of you.

Like, why your finger tips brushing his when he hands you something or your shoulder touching his when you both read next to each other just sends an an almost electrifying feeling within him or when even the softest expressions on your face can make him smile.

Starts with mainly nonfiction books and slowly finds himself searching within the realm of fiction as well.

Despite what some people might think, he doesn’t really read fiction books much. When he does, it’s usually horror stories or the occasional sci-fi story (he finds how human picture the future to be fascinating, but also a bit silly).

He has very little experience with romance novels; he finds them to be pretty repetitive and predictable.

Still decides to read some since they do in fact focus on interactions between two people.

Finds that a lot of his experiences are mentioned in these books.

….he also finds his mind imagining similar situations with you.

This is…not the answer he thought he would get. ‘Love’.

So it was love that he felt for you? He honestly never gave any thought to loving someone in this way before. It simply was never a priority of his

But if that is truly what he is feeling…he wants to feel it to its full extent like the characters in his books.

Isn’t actually all that nervous when he decides to tell you. Like always, curiosity leads him through.

Not to say that he wouldn’t be hurt if you rejected him; merely that he wastes no energy worrying about such an outcome.

The day he decided tell you about this conclusion, you were sitting with him on his bed, backs against the wall, reading books.

He heard a little gasp to his right and glanced over to see you staring at your book, eyes wide, and whispering things to the page.

‘Oh my god’, ‘Why would you do that?’, and ‘Nonononononono’ were just some of the words you spoke into your book.

Satan chuckled, finding he scene to be cute.

You let out a groan, mildly annoyed with him.

“It’s not funny.” You whined. “He just walked away from her. Walked away! Right when she tried to kiss him! I can’t believe this!”

“Oh really?”

“Yes really! He–”

The blonde cut you off with a kiss, brief, but a bit fervent.

As soon he pulled away, you dropped your book and covered your red face. He quietly picked up your book and read the page that originally upset you.

“This is the same story I read yesterday.” He told you, hiding his own red cheeks within the pages. “The one that made me realize I wanted to kiss you.”

You lowered your hands and stared at the blonde, eyes wide.

“R-Really?”

“Yes.” He lowered the book to look you in your eyes. “Our protagonist may have failed you, but I’d like think that I just came through for you where he did not. Am I wrong?”

“N..No.” You mumbled, eyes darting away from him and to a stack of books. After a moment, you added. “C-Can you do that again?”

Satan chuckled softly and took his chin in his hand, guiding her face to look at him. He stared into your eyes for a minute with a teasing smile before doing just as he was asked.

The boy never actually said the words like he planned to, but it was obvious that his meaning got across to you.

Asmodeus:

As the Avatar of Lust, Asmo is no stranger to feelings.

He had so many crushes during his time in the Devildom that he probably couldn’t even count them all.

They were always simple feelings though, flights of fancy that came and went, holding no real long term significance to him.

Don’t get him wrong; he finds a lot of fun/cute/sexy/beautiful people that he enjoys spending time with, but he sees them all as just temporary beings, coming in and out of his life without a second thought.

It’s still new for him to develop strong feelings for a person to the point that he actually thinks 'I never want them to leave’.

But with you, he does just that. Doesn’t realize he feels that strongly for you till you actually leave though.

It wasn’t anything unpredictable; the school year had simply ended. Everyone knew it was coming, but Asmo gave it almost no thought till it was here.

Your absence hit him harder than he let any of his brothers know. Still, he did he did usual activities; shopping, partying, spa days (though he noticed that he needed those more often than before).

He called you as often as he could. Would have probably spammed you with texts and calls if Lucifer hadn’t set a limit on all the brothers with when they can talk to you.

There really wasn’t an ‘Aha!’ moment for him discovering that he loved you. The question for him wasn’t if he loved you; it was more like how much he loved you that he questioned.

After dealing with your absence, he got his answer: a lot.

When you finally came back for another year at RAD, the boy was ecstatic.

Immediately jumps into hugging you, giving you little kisses on the cheek, and coming up with different reasons to keep you close.

Really clingy, but in a cute way.

Boy drops the ‘love’ word on you like it’s nothing.

Absolutely adores your blushy face after.

Is nothing but smiles when you said it back to him and wasn’t worried about it all.

I mean it is him we are talking about so of course you love him back.

Beelzebub:

Is slightly slow with the realization, but not the slowest of the brothers.

There was kinda already signs floating around about his feelings before he even knew it.

The other brothers suspected it, but unlike with Mammon, they just kinda left the big boy to handle it on his own and didn’t tease him about it.

Though he’s commonly helping all his brothers out with one thing or another, without even realizing it, he started treating you with the same level of care he usually only gives to Belphie.

He shares his foods with you and is always checking on you to make sure you feel okay (physically and emotional). Sweet boy knows how stressful it can be in House of Lamentation with all the arguing and his brothers’ shenanigans so he tries to makes sure it doesn’t bring you down.

He even once carried you to bed after you fell asleep on the couch after school. He felt bad you were so worn out from the day and didn’t want you to wake up with a sore neck from sleeping wrong on the couch.

Then there was one day when he managed to make you laugh--not on purpose, mind you, and the poor boy is still confused about what he did to this day, but the sound of your laugh filled with his cheeks red and the sweet boy couldn’t help smiling at it.

But once the moment ended and your laugh was gone, all Beel could think about was wanting to hear it again. He really wished he knew what he did the first time so he could replicate it.

He started asking around with his brothers about the moment that made him feel so warm inside and why he couldn’t stop thinking about you or that moment. They all waved him off with small smiles, telling him that he’ll figure it out on his own. Except for one.

Asmo was way to excited to follow the other brothers’ lead.

“That’s because you love her, silly!” He grinned at the redhead. “Now! When are you asking them out? I’ve been waiting foreeever to give you dating advice!”

Cue Beel’s brain buffering. And buffering. And buffering.

Ding.

Wait..love?

The boy smiled a sweet smile and walked away from his brother mid-sentence.

He kept walking till he found you in your room working on homework.

You lifted you head and smiled at him, mid-greeting when he wrapped his arms around you in a hug. You blinked in confusion, but hugged back.

“What’s this about?” You laugh from in his arms and the good boy loved the sound of it. In fact...

“I love you.” He said, smiling down at you.

It was a cute albeit random and unexpected moment for you, but also one of your favorite memories with him.

Belphegor:

Belphie was surprisingly quick with discovering his feelings for you.

He knew it was love, but tried pushing the feeling down inside of himself out of guilt.

Yes, you forgave him for using and killing you, but the boy hadn’t forgiven himself for doing it, which made his feelings for you just hurt him worse.

Sleepy boy tries his best to take care of you to make up for it, but feels like it’s not enough.

He’s always the first person to realize when you’re starting to stress out and pulls you to him for nap. Naps always help him take a break from stress and various other emotions that he doesn’t want to deal with and knew it’d probably help you too.

Nap buddy. That’s what you’d call him, causing him to blush and turn away from you.

With the poor boy feeling so complicated, it was actually you who confessed your feelings to him instead.

It was during one of your nap sessions, unsurprisingly. Belphie just stared at you, eyes wide in disbelief, before switching to a glare.

“You stupid--how can you say that after what I did to you?”

“Belphie...that’s in the past and you’re different now.” You tell him. “I love the person that lays next to me; he’s different than the man who killed me.”

Oh Lord Diavolo, the way your human mind works is so ridiculous to him.

Ends up rejecting you and finds a new place to take a nap. His anger quickly turns to sadness as he falls asleep.

Feels awful the next few days. He didn’t mean to hurt you; he just wants you to understand that he doesn’t deserve you after what happened.

Eventually approaches you to explain himself, hoping you’ll understand and let go of your feelings for him.

Instead, you launch into trying to reassure him that it’s not like that and regardless of what happened in the past, your feelings still stand.

He still thinks you’re idiot and tells you as much...but admits that he feels the same.

During the first two weeks of your relationship, the boy is surprisingly tense, but eventually accepts where you both have ended up and just lets himself enjoy it.

Masterlist

#obeyme #obeyme otome #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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justlookingvm · 3 years ago

Text

Tessa Virtue’s leap from Figure Skating Olympic Champion to Executive MBA | Kneading Dough Canada

https://youtu.be/JAAkEDRFJ1A

Host: Vinay Virmani

T: If you’re going to build something, you need options in your life. I’ll say this especially as females, it’s important to be independent. To feel like you can be self-reliant and to take care of yourself.

[Intro presented by Tangerine]

V: Tessa, welcome to Kneading Dough Canada.

T: Thank you so much for having me.

V: It’s a pleasure. Kneading Dough Canada is a financial empowerment platform as you know, where we talk money, we talk mindset, we talk about financial lessons that you’ve learned along the way to hopefully inspire the next generation.

T: Well I’m so grateful to be on, I really appreciate it. I think it’s always refreshing to hopefully lend that female lens but also maybe that perspective from the amateur sport world too.

V: Yeah, you know Tessa you’ve accomplished so much, both in your personal and in your professional life. As an athlete you have achieved so many incredible honours, you’ve represented us, this country of Canada at the highest of international levels, but what I’m really excited about is you’re about to add another accomplishment in the form of three very special letters, MBA behind your name. Talk to me about that decision.

T: It’s been you know lingering in my mind for a long time. Education was always a priority in my household growing up in my family, and I thought about law school for quite some time and then I retired at 28 or 29 and thought maybe that’s too long (giggle) and realized also I wanted to flex a bit of a creative muscle. So this MBA program has been a dream of mine for quite some time. I want to be a student again in every sense of the word and I’m eager to learn the ins and outs of the business realm and that corporate sphere that I’ve had a unique perspective of, you know for 10 15 years, but if I’m going to take on a new role whatever that may be then I really want to feel like I’ve adopted that rookie mindset once again, and earned my stripes, I’ve gotten the credibility to to deserve a place there.

V: I want to take it to the world of figure skating though, because the world of figure skating is so glamorous as a sport. You know

T: I wasn’t sure where that sentence was going to land. It could have gone so many directions.

V: I I’m so like fascinated by the world of figure skating because the glamour, the imagination, the costumes, the drama, the whole production value. It looks so beautiful and elegant, but behind it there’s also rigorous routine, training and it’s not cheap.

T: Uh huh

V: So growing up, dd you have those conversations with your family and did you understand the investment that it was taking to sort of put you through the highest levels of figure skating.

T: The 2 things that my parents were always wiling to invest in or prioritize were education and sport. And it was important to them that we were exposed to as much as we could be. I’m the youngest of four. You know I’m of two minds because on one hand I do believe they tried to shield me from the burden of that sacrifice, that they made for all kids and for you know all of these adventures. But I was also keenly aware of it. I knew the the toll and I knew the cost and um you know I felt that responsibility…

V: Was there anything that you remember early on where there was an incident or a moment where you were like, I recognize like you talked about the toll.

T: My parents were so conscious to ensure that I wasn’t carrying that weight, and yet I moved away from home when I was 13 and I was kind of budgeting at that age for groceries and 7-eleven runs (laughs), whatever it is that a 13 year old needs. Taking taxis everywhere and I made a decision when I was 15 um to be able to do it on my own. My mom was always quick to say you know you have to look after yourself and you always have to make your own way and she was all about sort of creating that sense of security and freedom, so that I had options.

To be honest I had a tumultuous relationship with my father when I was a teen and I think it was just a decision, at that point. I didn’t feel right.

V: Yeah

T: I didn’t feel right accepting that kind of support anymore um and maybe it was a bit of pride you know, not wanting to

V: You don’t want to be dependent on anybody.

T: Totally. Yeah, and that’s not to say that I’m not aware of the privilege that I had growing up to have those opportunities. It was just a real marker of OK, if this is the path I’m choosing, um and I really need to make sure that I can I can do it on my own or in a way that really isn’t such a burden.

V: You know talking to you today has reinforced independence. You know being independent, not being dependent and and just being self-sufficient. And how gratifying that is, you know I think a lot of people, especially as you said, I hope a lot of young women watch this show and and really listen to your advice. And the fact that you took that decision at such an early age.

T: You know it’s interesting I found old journals not too long ago, and there was a page in one and I don’t know, judging by my handwriting I might have been 12? 11 or 12? And I had written my goals and that were, you know the to win the Olympics, be on Oprah, which I’ll settle for uninterrupted and Kneading Dough, uh buy a cottage, like buy a family cottage

V: Right

T: And at 12 that was on my mind and the feeling of walking into this cottage that my mom and I were able to dream of and then buy together, is so visceral and it’s it’s so much about, like I think back to being young and maybe not having, especially for her like that sense of security and and just really feeling like that can be a safe place now. Um so again it’s more of the representation of that.

V: I’ve heard you say something that has really resonated with me always because it’s something that I believe in. That the highs are so much better when you’ve experienced the lows. And obviously Scott Moir and yourself accomplished so many great things together. Something that I always try to tell the younger generation is, sometimes you have to just sit back celebrate your failures.

T: Well we learned to embrace it by making it part of our process, in that, not only did we anticipate failure and expect it and embrace it, well, we practiced it. So we learned to fall on demand, get back up, refocus, and

V: OK

T: be back into our program still trying to amalgamate as many points as possible.

V: You know I remember once um I must have been in grade school and I and I failed a few subjects. I was never a good student.

T: OK

V: And you know we didn’t have a lot of money at the time and I remember my my dad, I was really afraid to tell him that you know I’ve failed these courses and blah blah blah, but he said to the family, he said, alright everybody get ready we’re going for dinner. And we went to this restaurant that was only saved for like birthdays or anniversaries. And so we get there and he’s ordering all these great things on the menu and I’m like “dad, I don’t think you heard me like I failed, like I failed and here you are taking it t the restaurant.” And I remember he looked at me and he said “You know I want you to celebrate this failure. I want you to take it in because if you’re winning all the time, you’re not going to learn anything.”

T: Wow, and obviously that stayed with you

V: Oh yeah, you’re always going to learn so much more from the losses.

This next set of questions is called the two cents round, so you can’t overthink these things.

Tessa, we all know about your discipline but what do you splurge on?

T: Clothes

V: Clothes, OK, all right. What part of your budget are you working on lowering?

T: Clothes (big laugh). Actually not really because I will say, it’s more what it represents like part of that is like my I love it and it’s become also intertwined with my career and my brand if you will. Um

V: Its an investment in yourself.

T: I think so, that’s how I twist it

V: So, what is us the best financial decision you’ve made so far?

T: Hire the right people

V: Building the right team around you.

T: Yeah absolutely.

V: Describe your financial persona in just one word.

T: I want to say careful?

V: Careful.

T: Careful in that I’m strategic

V: I like that, OK

T: But I’m willing to have some fun.

V: OK, all right. Tessa if you could run any business, what would it be?

T: My own.

V: Your own. OK. All right I’m not going to push you more. [Tessa laughs]. They say patience is a virtue, how long did your first paycheck last?

T: I mean I spent my whole career basically operating at a deficit, so everything went back into training. I worked towards certain things and the you know I was really fortunate to get some funding and bursary grants, and then eventually sponsors and um was able to build this little nest egg, but mostly it went right back into training.

V: Tessa, this year we’ve been having such important and meaningful conversations about women in sport. And you know of course there’s such a long way to go for those conversations really to achieve equality, but as somebody who’s such a big advocate for women’s empowerment in sport, how do you feel that you want to lend your voice to those conversations?

T: I think, currently the biggest impact I feel I can have is really connecting with those young female athletes at that precipice of maybe dropping out um for all the heart breaking reasons that we’re learning about through research. Whether that is you know body image, or lack of self-confidence, lack of self-worth, it’s just not good enough. Like the access to resources, there are opportunities, um I think those conversations are really important and that’s where I’ve been feeling most fulfilled, when I’m able to connect with those athletes and you know I’ve been able to benefit from all of the lessons and the opportunities that sport has lended it uh to my life. And I just so want that for other female athletes. And you know we’re seeing that there are more mentors, more representation, more access to viewing these formidable female athletes, and I hope that resonates.

V: Tessa, we’ve uh had the opportunity to work on a few branded campaigns together. There’s this Tessa grace, and there’s this element of everything being held to a certain standard. In everything that you do, especially things that are public facing. Talk to me a bit about that.

T: I hate the word brand but I’m going to say it, my brand has been

V: I mean you definitely have a very strong brand

T: Well it’s been built on the very foundation of me and my personality and if those values aren’t upheld in every sense of you know the word, then I’m I’m not useful to anyone. Then I’m then no brand would want to hire me, um because it if it gets diluted, then I then I just think um it’s losing the very essence of what resonates with people. And I’m really careful about that like I only partner and pair with brands that I would authentically stand behind and feel really good about promoting.

V: I love that

T: And I’m conscious of where I lend my voice and my likeness, a very clear mission statement, and you know I love to be hands on but that’s where like the creative fulfilment comes in

V: Right

T: And honestly that’s where the most successful engagement also comes. If I’m involved and it’s a collaborative process, um it’s much more successful for the brand too.

V: You know, over this past year, there’s been such a strong connection to mental health and financial wellness. Many Canadians have a very high debt to income ratio, which can be very stressful. For you, how do you protect not only your mental health, but when it comes to financial wellness. How do you really protect your sanity?

T: As an amateur athlete I grappled with that um day after day. I think it’s important to find purpose in saving and planning. So, you know my mom started those conversations with me when I was young but that was all to sort of plant the seed of like you need to plan for this. And if you’re going to build something you need options in your life. For me you know it’s helped having a corporation for example, because a lot of my money is tied up there and it it’s great um but, it’s also made me very careful and strategic in how I spend it.

V: What is your one big piece of financial advice to all young women out there?

T: Surround yourself with the right people and set yourself up for independence.

V: I love that. Financial freedom.

T: Financial freedom.

#Tessa Interview: Kneading Dough

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woniepop · 4 years ago

Text

girly girls

Pairing: Kang Taehyun x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: bullying, cursing

Genre: slice of life; fluff; angst

Summary: Three times a popular girl and a nerd were enemies, and one time where they weren’t

a/n: this fic was inspired by my all time favorite movie, Legally Blonde. I enjoyed writing this fic and I really hope you enjoy reading it :)

Y/N L/N has never been someone who liked to be cast in the shadows. Always being the center of attention, y/n has become one of the, if not the most, popular girls in her town. Homegirl is always dressed like an icon even when doing mundane tasks. Girls like her have never really been into anything “nerdy.” She associates herself with more of the bimbo kind, if you will. It was never really a secret, but she studies incredibly hard to get the chance to go to her dream school and become a great computer scientist. Being in such a large friend group of female fashion icons, there was never really anyone who wanted to talk about topics with math or computer science.

Kang Taehyun, however, is this awkward and incredibly smart boy. Never really associated with popularity, he’s only had about four friends in his life and absolutely no dating experience. He’d always been one to shy away from attention. At most times, he found himself quietly observing others. All this, and he’s still what you would consider the teacher’s pet. He gets all his assignments done, A’s on every test, and raises his hand for every question. As a computer science enthusiast, he has worked his butt off his entire life, filling his schedule with robotics clubs, different languages of code, and coding camps. Senior year was his year. He had finally got into his dream school, TXT Tech, and had already created a very very detailed plan for the future.

Currently, Y/n’s mother was constantly trying to persuade her about fashion school. Having an incredibly fashionable mom wasn’t always the best for situations like these. TXT Tech results were coming out, and even though Y/n was confident she was getting in, there’s still the chance she might have not. Nervously waiting in front of her laptop, she sits impatiently refreshing the page for her results. Within one sentence she hops up from her chair in awe. Obviously attending the school was going to be a big turning point for her, and she was so excited to have been admitted to TXT Tech.

As Y/n got settled on campus, she finds no one else that looks like her. Obviously, because she stands out, all attention is drawn to her. She’s confident, stylish, and hot. In a sea of gray and tan business outfits, Y/n wears a nice pink pantsuit. She’s relishing in all the attention, not seeming to mind that it’s not good, because she knew she looked good.

Her first encounter with Taehyun couldn’t have gone worse. Walking to her class, pink drink in hand, she struts confidently to the lecture hall for her computer engineering class. Not paying attention to where she was going, she bumps into a tall figure. This clearly wasn’t the best way you could go about your first day, but all Y/n could do was apologize.

“I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t see where I was going and-” she rambled. Pausing in the middle of looking up, a very handsome and slightly awkward boy stands there, obviously pissed off and very annoyed. He scoffs and continues on his way to his next class.

Her second encounter with Taehyun was not great either. Clicking her high heels against the floor, she walks to her first class of the day. She had to get there early, she always had to sit in the front of the class. Taehyun on the other hand, nose buried deep in his book, walks directly to the middle. Despite loving programming, he could only handle so much attention. The class had started off well for Y/n, reviewing the class syllabus of “Principles of Programming Languages.” Taehyun, however, was pissed. He had not been called on once and was so frustrated.

“Y/n, can you tell me the five most commonly used languages of code?” the professor asks smugly. Y/n knew what he was doing. She was being set up. She knew he thought she didn’t know and that lit a fire in her.

“Python, Java, Javascript, C#, and C” she answers confidently. Hearing this, the professor nods his head. He wasn’t expecting that.

Taehyun saw this as a perfect opportunity. His hand shoots up and he comments, “Sir, that’s actually incorrect. C++ is actually more popular because although C has served as the foundation for writing languages like Python and Ruby, C++ is a newer language of code and therefore is compatible with more technology.” Taehyun confidently looks down to wear Y/n sits and smirks. Of course she wouldn’t know that. She’s only the popular rich girl that got in with Daddy’s money. She didn’t actually know anything, right?

It had been a few months since school had started, and finals were just about to come around. For this class’ final, they had to submit a partner project and code a simple game. At this point, it had been very blatantly established that Y/n and Taehyun were enemies. They despised each other. Always competing with each other in class, snickering when the other person got annoyed. It was a silent war between the two of them and everyone could feel the tension in the air. Obviously, it was no surprise they always came up at the top of the class, interchanging the first spot every test. What was surprising, however, was seeing their names together on the partner project roster.

Taehyun was furious. College was supposed to be his bitch, but now he’s acting like Y/n’s bitch. He was so pissed off. Computer science was supposed to be where he had the upper hand. The one place he could feel himself. Where he was finally better than the stupid popular kids. And yet, he’s here, competing with one of them. It wasn’t fair. She was a girly girl, she wore bright colors everyday, she even had a sparkly notebook. How was she so smart? There was no way, it’s just the laws of the universe. You had to choose between looks and intelligence. That’s just what the gods above said. There’s no take backsies.

It’s no secret that Y/n is a fashionable girl and having a female centric hobby isn’t really something applauded at this university. Knowing of Y/n’s insecurities, let’s talk about Taehyun’s. Having always worn non adventurous, boring, clothing, he’s known from the very beginning that Y/n’s beauty has helped her in life. Life is never fair, and it shows. Taehyun never ever got those advantages, and now here he is competing with someone just as smart as him.

As his jealousy grows in the back of his mind, he decides to use this time to take revenge. The next few days are spent typing away in the library, collaborating and researching for hours upon hours. Knowing that this project was worth 40% of their grade, they spent all their time trying to make this game perfect.

The day of the presentation of their near perfect game rolls around and Y/n was confident. She had spent countless nights coding this with Taehyun and on her own. Starting the presentation off, Taehyun pulls up a game completely different to the one Y/n coded with him. “In this day and age, gaming has become a hobby more popular than it’s ever been. With platforms like twitch and youtube, all different types of games can catch the eyes of a wide audience. With this in mind, I’d like to present to you Jackbox Party Pack 8. Roleplay games have become the genre of choice for many gamers to play, and viewers to watch.”

This was not the first person shooter Y/n had coded with him. What was he doing? Y/n stood there, not really knowing what to say. Opening and closing her mouth, she couldn’t form any words. She should have known this was a set up. “Ms. L/n, please continue.” The professor says. She couldn’t. She felt like she was frozen. She was so embarrassed and she should’ve seen it coming. With cheeks welling up in her eyes, she runs out of the classroom.

With a smirk, Taehyun continued on, explaining how the game worked and how he had coded it. He had spent the past few nights coding it by himself and he was incredibly proud. Paying no mind to Y/n, he stood tall and smiled throughout his entire presentation. Obviously, like any normal person, guilt started growing quickly in the back of his mind. He finally realized he had fucked up.

Running after Y/n, Taehyun felt incredibly guilty. He had taken the competition too far, and now he’d made someone innocent fail a required class. After running for what felt like hours, he found Y/n crying under a tree. He knelt down and offered her some tissues. Aggravated, she smacks the tissues away and tells him to leave.

Y/n, on the other hand, felt so angry. How could he do this to her? She hadn’t done anything wrong, and if he didn’t like the way she dressed or the way she conducted herself that was fine. All she needed was her to believe in herself and that got her into TXT Tech. While thinking about all the ways she could end Taehyun, she feels arms wrap around her. They’re 🤮Taehyun’s. Before she can rip his arms off, he speaks up.

“Look Y/n, I’m really sorry about that whole thing I pulled back there. I’ll talk to the professor and give him the real project. I really took it too far and I’ll do anything to make it up to you.” He begs.

“Um,, no? I don’t care? That was literally so embarrassing. If you really wanted to make it up to me you’d leave me alone.” Y/n pushes him off her harshly and storms off. How dare he? It probably took his two seconds to come up with that half assed apology. This was unbelievable.

Y/n started trudging through the grass back to her dorm. All she wanted to do was take a warm shower and cry in her bed. She hated everyone. She wanted him to suffer just as much as she did, but she couldn’t do that.

After two whole days of sobbing in her bed, she decided she was craving her signature pink drink. She really didn’t feel like going out, but delivering one drink would cost like $15. Y/n throws on a casual pink outfit. It’s very different from what she wore at the beginning of the school year, but the one thing that never changed was the color pink. Even in her depressive mood, she still wanted to dress up. She felt most comfortable wearing stylish clothing, that was her home.

Stepping into the store, she sees Taehyun sitting at a table alone. You know when you see old people sitting along and you feel so bad for them you start tearing up? Like what if they lost their spouse or something :(((((. So anyway, Taehyun gives her lonely old people energy and regardless of what he did to her, she decides to keep him company.

“Hey, um, can i sit here?” Y/n asks. Taehyun was so surprised. She wanted to sit with him? But he was so mean to her? He nodded his head and sat quietly. The past two days she could tell Taehyun had done a lot of thinking. She could tell he did it because he felt threatened. That wasn’t enough to forgive him, but at least she was being nice about it.

Taehyun gets up and leaves. He comes back with a pink drink in hand, maybe as an apology. “I really want to apologize to you again, Y/n. Yesterday I don’t know if you saw, but the professor graded the actual project instead, and I had told him everything and that I’d deserve it if he failed me instead.” Y/n wanted to be happy but she wasn’t. She didn’t want him to fail after helping her code the game with her. Maybe she was so nice to him because she had matured, or maybe because she felt something different in Taehyun. Even so, a little embarrassment, she thought, wasn’t enough to cause a person to fail their whole class. Holding his hand on the table, she nods, a silent way she decided to forgive him.

“Well, at least we’re not the worst team. I think group 7 coded a Niki Minaj roblox world.” Taehyun jokes.

She laughs. “That’s so funny, what the heck? I guess we just have some hardcore barbs in this class.” People like Taehyun and people like Y/n were never meant to be friends in the first place, but maybe now they were starting to. Y/n, who was always challenging the term “girly girl.” Who always stressed that you have to believe in yourself when the rest of the world is against you. Y/n who became successful, without changing who she was. Y/n, who was feminine and wanted to show that was never a weakness. And Taehyun, who was always unadventurous. Who was never into fashion but still managed to pull off his nerdy outfits with his cute face. The passionate Taehyun whose only hobby seemed like studying. Gossiping for hours at the cafe, they realized this. They were starting to become friends. No one ever expected them to even be able to hold a friendly conversation, but here Y/n was, challenging everyone again.

#txt x reader #txt fanfic #kang taehyun #taehyun x reader #taehyun fanfic #taehyun x y/n #kang taehyun x reader #taehyun headcanons #taehyun fluff #taehyun angst #taehyun au #txt taehyun #txt fluff #txt angst #txt reactions #txt headcanons

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minchanslut · 4 years ago

Text

At Your Service

Pairing: F!Reader x Escort!MinChan Word count: 2.4K

You sighed deeply, feeling the warm water cascade down your shoulders, taking some of the tension you had built up on your muscles along with it, but that alone wasn’t enough. The immense stress that your job put on you along with so many nights of sleeping alone had started to get to you. You wouldn’t say that you were one to feel incomplete while not in the company of a significant other, but as your needs grew, you found it harder to satiate them yourself, often leaving yourself feeling unsatisfied. You craved the touch of someone else.

Of course, you attempted to follow the trend of meeting people on dating apps and engaging in one night stands, but you were quick to realise that it simply wasn’t for you after having two separate experiences which left you deeply disappointed, and wondering whether men were even able to make women orgasm anymore. After telling your friend of your encounters and how you’ve given up hope on dating apps she suggested you hire an escort, if what you were looking for was just great sex. You dismissed her idea, saying that such a service would only be a waste of money and that you were bound to find someone who would be able to give you what you need, for free at that. But you had no such luck, not even after four months. It was almost as frustrating for your friend as it was for you, seeing as she had to put up with your constant whining and complaining. Even after months had passed she was still adamant about how you should at least try her suggestion, claiming that she heard of an extremely luxurious escort lounge through a coworker. It took some time, but eventually you gave in and decided to test the waters, though still quite skeptical, you had little hopes for what was to come. You had made an “appointment”, as they called it, about a week before, telling yourself you needed time to prepare, both physically and mentally. The website, which insured complete secrecy, offered a wide variety of escorts to choose from, which only made it harder for you to take your pick. After spending hours scrolling on your phone, reading the description provided of each escort and thoroughly analyzing their photos, you decided to go for a guy named Chris. His photo provided a glimpse of his toned muscles and charming smile, but not much else. You chose not to dwindle on your decision for too long, fearing that you would change your mind and end up back at square one.

A week later you found yourself walking through the doors of a lavish club which seemed more like a 5-star hotel. There were both men and women dressed in expensive attire throughout the room. You timidly searched for the front desk, hoping whoever was there wouldn’t poke fun at your anxious state. Thankfully you were greeted with an understanding smile by a woman named Mia, who gave you a brief explanation of how everything worked. She would tell you which room your escort would be waiting in, and would announce to them that you were on your way and all you had to do was make it there in one piece. Seemed simple enough. Before you left she assured you that you had nothing to be worried about and that you were in good hands.

“It’s not too late to turn back.” you told yourself, but if you did so you would lose both the experience and your deposit. Before you knew it you were already standing in front of Chris’ room, realizing then there really was no turning back. Chris was already standing at the door frame by the time you arrived. He greeted you with a smile, and allowed you to come inside, immediately offering you something to drink. You admitted to being too nervous to drink anything and he nodded in understanding.

“Is there anything I can do to help ease your nerves? You know, before we start?”

You could only shrug, scratching your head awkwardly.

“Okay how about, I eat your pussy? Would that calm you down a bit?”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his coarseness, but you went along with it nonetheless. That is why you were here after all.

Chris approached you slowly, sitting down on the bed beside you, helping you out of both your bottoms before ridding himself of his shirt. You couldn’t help but stare at his toned arms and defined abs, and you would’ve stared at them for much longer if his touch hadn’t pulled you away from your thoughts. He instructed you to straddle him as he laid down. He chuckled when you gave him a confused look.

“This way you can set your own pace, is that alright?”

You decided to go along with it,as you figured that he would know what he’s doing. He guided you towards his face, your aching pussy spread out in front of him.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

You took a deep breath and lowered yourself, providing Chris with direct access to your heat. He placed kitten licks on your clit, allowing you to get accustomed to the situation before wrapping his lips around the small bud and sucking harshly. You got the impression that Chris was enjoying himself just as much as you were, as he was moaning against your clit, the vibrations making your legs shake in pleasure. Chris’ hands found themselves holding onto your waist, helping you maintain balance as you grinded against his tongue, practically fucking his face. Your moans grew louder as your orgasm approached, your toes curled up as you pulled away, your pussy convulsing vigorously. You collapsed beside him as he sat up, wiping your juices from his chin with the back of his hand.

“Do you need a minute or do you wanna go again?”

You asked yourself if he was insane, how could you go again after cumming that intensely. And yet no more than 5 minutes after your first orgasm you found yourself on all fours in front of Chris, who was thrusting into you at an incredible speed. He had his chest pressed against your back and you could feel his chiseled abs on your skin. He had one hand supporting his weight and the other rubbing your clit. Every so often he would plant chaste kisses on your back and shoulders, followed by praise that made you melt.

“You feel so good, I won’t last much longer, shit.”

And he really didn’t, though neither did you. But mere moments later you were right back where you started, ready for another round.

From then on you found yourself seeing Chris once a month, twice if you were lucky.

You felt your muscles contort, an evident frown forming on your face as you refreshed the page once more only to receive the same notification. Due to your busy schedule the days you could make an appointment to see Chris were very limited, but luck had always been on your side and you were able to see him on the days you were free without any difficulties, until now that is. Your frustration grew as you continuously refreshed the website but were still met with the words “No slots available”

You could easily be considered a regular there, but you hadn’t been with anyone other than Chris. You were unsure whether to just give up and visit the following month, maybe even making an appointment several weeks in advance this time, or to simply go for someone else. You really didn’t feel like going through the trouble of searching for someone else, seeing as it was already difficult for you to pick the first time. You were close to giving up on your search until you discovered a rather convenient quiz the website provided, which claimed to help you find the perfect sexual partner for you. After hesitantly clicking on the link you were redirected to a page with various questions regarding your kinks, desires and fantasies. It was a rather quick quiz that certainly didn’t beat around the bush. After calculating your results you were met with the name Minho in bold letters, along with a short description of him right beside his photo. You opted to trust their recommendation and booked a session with Minho for later that week.

You walked into the building with less confidence than in the recent months, yet still not as apprehensive as the first time. You were nervous about what this new experience might be like, but you were excited nonetheless, wondering what Minho would do differently than Chris. Heading over to the front desk you greeted the receptionist whom you’ve grown fairly friendly with over the recent months. You made casual small talk as she typed away on her computer before stopping abruptly and looking up at you with a puzzled look on her face.

“Do you not have a session with Chris tonight?”

Your cheeks flushed as you avoided her gaze, announcing that you were, in fact, there to see Minho. She cocked her eyebrow at you, smirking slightly and continued without another word. You shrugged it off, bidding her a farewell as you began heading towards the room you had been assigned, rolling your eyes when she shouted “Have fun!” from behind you.

You knocked twice and Minho opened the door almost immediately, clearly expecting you.

He was dressed simply, button up and black dress pants. His hair was pushed back, slightly damp from what you assumed was gel. He invited you inside and was quick to comment about how he had seen you before but never expected you to go for anyone other than Chris.

“It’s quite an honor, actually, to have some fun with Chris’ plaything. Or is it the other way around, hm?”

There was only silence, which caused Minho to sigh. He made his way behind you, helping you slip off your coat as he whispered in your ear.

“No need to be so tense, I’m here to help you unwind after all.”

He ran his hands up and down your arms as he nipped and sucked on the exposed area of your neck. His hands then traveled to your sides, fingers gently tugging at the hem of your shirt before pulling it over your head. His fingers softly traced the skin of your abdomen while he walked forward, leading you towards the bed. He planted wet kisses down your spine, getting lower with each kiss and pulling down your pants in the process. Once you were left in nothing but your undergarments he gently pushed you down onto the bed. You were at a 90 degree angle, your upper body laying on the bed as your knees pressed onto the floor supporting your lower half. Minho ran his hand up and down your back, humming at your reaction.

“Eager, aren’t we? Maybe I should just give you what you want.”

He wasted no time waiting for an answer as he placed a small kiss on your pussy through your panties. He moved onto your inner thighs, leaving chaste kisses on the supple skin. He could feel your legs beginning to shake with anticipation and he was quick to return his attention to your aching pussy, licking a long stripe up your clothed folds. Minho pushed your panties aside as he pressed his finger against your entrance.

“Shit, you’re already getting wet, but you can do better than that, right?”

He slid his finger in deeper, curling it upwards as his lips found their way around your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves. He pumped his finger in and out of you at a slow pace, taking care to give enough attention to your clit. He withdrew his finger, only to collect your juices with his index and middle finger before sliding them back in, groaning in satisfaction.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, can’t believe you’re so tight after being such a whore for Chris”

You felt yourself clench at his words, burying your face in the sheets to muffle your whine.

Your relationship with Chris was purely one of give and take. He provided you with a service which you paid for. You had no feelings for him and were sure he had none for you. Yet, choosing Minho over him this one time felt as if you were being unfaithful, but it also made your pussy ache with need for Minho’s touch. You wanted to feel him inside you, and you desperately wanted him to be the one to make you cum over and over again. He picked up his pace and had replaced his mouth with his thumb, which was now rubbing circles on your clit.

Minho caught on to your attempt at trying to keep yourself quiet and clicked his tongue. With his free hand he grabbed hold of your hair, raising your head slightly so that your face was no longer against the mattress. His new position meant that it was now harder for him to reach your clit, but his index and middle finger never once stopped pumping in and out of you.

“Now, now, if you don’t make any sound how am I supposed to know whether or not I’m doing a good job. Just for that I might not allow you to cum.”

“No, please, I’m so close.”

Your words caused him to smirk, seemingly strengthening his ego.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’d much rather have you cum on my cock, what do you say?” he said, removing his fingers from your heat. He helped you up, allowing you to sit on the bed properly. You eyed him closely as he removed his belt, his pants following soon after. He was left in only his white button up, of which half the buttons were now undone, and his boxers, the shape of his hard cock clearly visible. Minho unclasped your bra and helped you out of your panties, before slipping out of his boxers himself. He took the time to roll a condom onto his length, spreading your wetness onto the head of his dick. He pulled away for a moment, rubbing his thumb over your clit, followed but his palm slapping your pussy a few times. You felt your legs twitch as you ached to be filled up once more. He lined himself up at your entrance, but to your dismay stopping halfway to look over at the door which had previously been locked, swing open.

You glanced over Minho’s shoulder to see Chris, who still hadn’t finished his sentence, come through the door calling your name, clearly not knowing you would be preoccupied with Minho.

“Mia told me that you’d be in this room, my session got canceled so I figured we could have some fun. Oh, am I interrupting?”

#bang chan smut #lee know smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #chris bang smut #lee minho smut #stray kids lee minho smut #bang chan scenarios #skz chan smut #skz chris smut #stray kids chan smut #stray kids chris smut #skz lee minho smut #skz lee know smut #stray kids lee know smut #lee minho scenarios #lee know scenarios #skz scenarios

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years ago

Text

Day 17: Royality

@tsshipmonth2020 (does this still count so late?)

What’s that? Ly creating content? Unbelievable. (I have writer’s block, leave me alooone /j)

Thanks to @marshymoop for suggestions and encouragment when making this bad boy! Love ya <3

Day 17 - Everyone has heterochromia, one eye is your natural color the other is your soulmate’s natural color. Once you meet all eyes return to natural color.

Content warnings: food/drink mention, alcohol, mentions of hangover, vampires, referring to drinking blood as “eating”, non-explicit blood drinking, being chased.

Word count: 6.9k

THE CITY OF DEWMORE WELCOMES YOU

Patton tapped his fingers on the steering wheel excitedly, nearly vibrating as he passed the weathered sign. Beyond it, beckoning him forward, stood a forest more densely packed and darker than he’d ever had the pleasure of exploring, the achingly tall pine trees swaying minutely in the breeze, their tips barely visible through the blanket of fog. Just imagining what could be held within those depths made his leg bounce; forgotten, moss-drenched stone paths, broken stumps of fallen trees that hadn’t made a sound upon impact, patches of mushrooms scattered in the shadows, and whispering creeks. It was the perfect way to spend his spring break, and one his photography teacher had wholeheartedly encouraged him to take. If he hadn’t had so many midterms to mark, Patton was almost sure the man would have tried to join him.

Almost an anxious tic at this point, he ran his free hand over the photography bag in his passenger seat, as if to make sure it hadn’t disappeared in the three minutes since he’d last checked. The thing was his prized possession, given to him by the very same photography professor at his university. It had been the elder’s own, before he got his newest camera, and gifted the whole set to his favorite (but don’t tell the others) students. It was full of perfectly kept lenses and two miniature tripods, extra batteries and memory cards, speedlights, and most importantly, the camera tucked safely into the biggest pouch. It was more expensive than Patton would ever have dreamt to buy, so it was truly a gift he’d never forget. Now it was up to him to finally take some shots worthy of the thing.

The forests continued to grow denser and thicker until, in almost a shocking snap, they disappeared to reveal a quaint city that he hadn’t quite expected. The first few buildings he passed looked like they may have stood there for hundreds of years, weather worn and faded. Their signs were either scratched to nothingness or blaringly new, shining metal names standing out against an ancient backdrop. He was looking for a motel, figuring there had to be one, even in a town of less than two thousand people. His backup plan was to just sleep in his car. He’d brought his sleeping back and extra blankets, so it wasn’t a huge concern, but he’d still prefer a bed. But whenever he’d tried finding anything online, he’d come up blank.

A fog still covered the town, and though it created an air of calm and mystery that Patton was itching to capture, he also knew the area was surrounded by towering mountains that he also desired so badly. To his right, the buildings stopped abruptly, revealing a grey beach, all rocks and no sand, criss crossed with logs, opening to a dark lake. The other side wasn’t visible through the mist.

The further he drove, he realized the buildings weren’t improving in their modernity, just giving way to more and more old infrastructure. One stood out, a grocery store, it’s lights piercing through the evening dim. Patton didn’t get a look inside before he passed, once again surrounded antique houses and shops, a post office to his left, and a tavern just across from that. A sign above the door read “Vacancy” in peeling white letters, and that was all the enticing Patton needed to pull his car into the gravel parking lot in front of the building. There was only one other vehicle there, a matte red pickup truck that he parked next to, and what appeared to only be three more parking spots. From the high placed windows, a soft orange light bled, and a round of raucous laughter filtered through the cracked open door. Patton smiled. The photographer inside him was going to have a field day here.

He stepped up the concrete steps and ruffled his hair with one hand so it covered his eye, heaving a sigh in hopes to calm his nervous butterflies, and pulled the door open.

All at once, the chatter inside died, and Patton internally shrank as every face in the tavern turned to look at the newcomer. There was a moment of tense silence as he tried his best for a smile and met the gaze of the men scrutinizing him, drinks forgotten on high wooden tables, jubilance halted. Patton waited with baited breath, for someone to do something, why were they all just staring, when a voice spoke from behind the bar.

“Don’t worry about them, sweetheart. We don’t get a lot of new people around here.”

And the lull was broken as suddenly as it started, the men now ignoring him in favor of joking over mugs of fizzing ale. Patton swallowed thickly and turned to the voice, shoving his quivering hands into his pockets and shaking his head again to assure the curls were safely covering his eye. As usual.

The man standing before him, leaning on the bar with an easy smile, was almost enough to take Patton’s breath away. If he were a religious man, he’d go so far as to call him heavenly. Eyes as dark as the depths of the surrounding forests, auburn hair pushed back from his face in what he could only think to describe as an intentional bedhead. His skin was too flawless, teeth just a couple shades too white, everything perfect in a way that was almost…

Patton couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What can I get you, newbie?”

“Uhm-” Patton took a cleansing breath and sat at one of the barstools, all of them empty seeing as the crowd seemed more drawn to the tables in the center of the room, “I don’t come to bars that often. I don’t know.”

The bartender hummed, pushing up his already rolled up white sleeves and giving Patton a once over, almost investigating him. “You drink?”

“I… I guess.”

“Been on the road for a while, tired?”

“Do I look that exhausted?” Patton breathed a laugh, suddenly aching to pop his spine. He’d been driving since before dawn for the past three days, barely hunkering down for a decent sleep before he was off again. He’d been really excited to get here, plus he didn’t want to waste more of his meager break driving.

“I got just what you need, darling.” With a wink, the bartender straightened up and pulled down a series of bottles, cracking his knuckles with flourish before measuring them into a silver canister. “So what brings you to Dewmore?”

“I’m a photographer,” Patton said, “Or, a photography student. Down in Florida.”

The man whistled as he shoveled ice cubes into the mix, “Long drive for some pictures.”

“I’m… dedicated,” Patton laughed, scratching at his neck nervously. “My prof recommended it, said it might be a nice place to spend my break.”

“I assume you’re looking for a place to stay then, as well?” He plopped a cap on the canister and began to shake it above his shoulder, grinning widely, “These guys are always just like, ‘Gimme a beer’ this, ‘Gimme a beer’ that. It’s great to actually make fun drinks again.” With hands flying too fast for Patton to process, he grabbed a glass, popped the lid of the shaker, and poured the deep orange drink, tossing on a green sprig and sliding the drink over. “Enjoy.”

Patton took a cautious sip of the drink and had to fight not to sigh, the refreshing taste a welcome relief after three days of gas station Gatorade and hotel sink water. He could barely taste any alcohol, more focused on the ice cold sweet tartness at the back of his tongue. The bartender looked pleased, huffing a satisfied laugh and beginning to put away his bottles. He was taking another sip, satisfied with the backdrop of joyous chatter and clinking glasses, when he remembered why he’d come in.

“Yes, I am. Uhm, looking for a place to stay, that is.”

The bartender looked at him over his shoulder, “We haven’t had visitors in… a while, at least. You’ve pretty much got your pick of the rooms.”

“Do you have anything facing the water?” He took another sip, the photo possibilities already flowing through his mind. One through the window, just far back enough to catch the flow of the curtains and the chipped wood of the window ledge, a monochromatic lakeshore in the bottom third, a barely visible mountain looming ahead…

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Let me just finish this up, and I’ll get you on the ledger.”

“Patton.” He downed the rest of the drink and rested his elbow on the counter, chin in his palm, an easy smile playing on his lips.

“Hm?”

“My name’s Patton.”

“I’m Roman.” Tossing the towel over his shoulder, Roman gave him another wink before disappearing into the back room, coming back moments later with a thick black book. He was already thumbing through the pages, finally landing on the one he wanted, and spun a pen between his fingers.

“What’s your last name, sweetheart?”

Patton spelled it out for him, and was surprised when the man clapped the book shut after the final letter. “That’s all you need?”

“Yup.”

“No… ID, or anything?” It was at that moment when it occurred to Patton that, although he was legal, his baby face often prompted bouncers and servers back home to ask for identification. Roman hadn’t even blinked before serving him.

“Got anything to hide?”

“Uhm… no, I-”

“Good enough for me. It’s not like we’re a high traffic tourist spot. I don’t think we’ve had anyone take a room in, like, two years, and who knows how many before that. Frankly, I wouldn’t care if you were on the run for murder. Don’t kill me, and we’re solid.”

Patton blanched, unable to tell if the man was being sarcastic. Finally his expression cracked into a smirk and he brandished a key towards Patton, dangling it by the ring. “I’m messing with you. I mean, don’t kill me, that’s legit. Here you go, cutie. Let me know if you need anything.”

With that, he sashayed away with a tray of beers (when on Earth had he filled those?), and the men whooped loudly, startling Patton.

“Easy, boys,” Roman purred, beginning to round the tables, and Patton hopped off the bar stool to get his things from his car. He couldn’t wait to pass out in bed with the knowledge that he could sleep in however late he wanted.

-0-0-0-

But apparently sleep didn’t have the same ideas as him, because even after he was in comfortable clothes and tucked into the covers, he continued to toss and turn. Maybe it was the concept of being alone in a strange town, or the full moon shining through the thin curtains, or just plain excitement, but he suddenly felt wider awake then he had since he started this trip.

There was a soft rattling somewhere across the room and, with begrudging acceptance that he wasn’t going to sleep any time soon, fumbled his glasses on to search for the offending sound. With a grumble, he threw off the blankets and padded across the room to the window and tossed back the curtains, giving the moon a scalding glare for shining so darn brightly. It was the window, fitted loosely in its frame, being shook by the gentle wind that was causing the noise. Patton gave it an experimental tug, followed by a more forceful yank, and found it didn’t budge down at all. Instead, it continued to rattle mockingly, in what sounded almost like whispered giggles as he crossed his arms across his chest.

Fine. He turned his attention to the scenic view before him, letting out a minute shudder as a small gust of wind blew through his thin pajama shirt. Moonlit waves crashed against the rocky shore, tossing up silver spray against the dark backdrop of the forest. Patton took a breath, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace just staring at the silent town, the stone spires rising above the forest-

Wait, what?

Patton blinked sharply a couple times, leaning forward until his nose bumped the window and squinting through the glass. Those… things... definitely looked like manmade objects- the shape made it impossible for them to be natural- but you’d think he’d remember something that looked like a castle directly outside his window. In fact, he’d spent a significant amount of time upon first entering the room just admiring the view, and a castle one hundred percent would have been on his radar. Oh, if the thing was abandoned, imagine the photo opportunities, and even if it wasn’t he could totally just get some of the outside-

Yeah, there was no way he was sleeping now.

Before he’d even processed what he was doing, he’d slipped out of his pajamas and hurriedly pulled on the outfit he’d laid out on the desk chair, because there was no way he was digging through his suitcase to scrounge out more clothes. He threw a beige sweater over his white shirt, however, remembering the chill the night had brought and, after he’d adequate tucked them into his slacks, he threw his camera bag over his shoulder and trotted down the stairs.

Unsurprisingly, the first floor tavern was empty of all customers, overhead lights traded for softer electric lamps on the walls and the illuminated sign above the bar, where Roman was wiping down the counter, seemingly unbothered by the late hour.

“Can’t sleep, sweetheart?” The bartender called out without turning around, tossing his rag across the counter and into a full soapy bucket behind the bar.

“Uh, yeah, something like that,” Patton responded, shaking his bangs so they covered his eye. “I think I’m just too excited to start getting shots.”

“Mmm, you and me both.” He waggled his eyebrows and pulled a bottle of what looked like whiskey off the shelf. “What’s your poison?”

Patton snorted but shook his head, patting his camera bag, “I want to go out, and it’s probably not smart to drink before going out in a strange town at night.”

Roman shrugged before pouring himself a shot and downing it in one smooth motion.

“You’re allowed to drink on the job?”

The bartender hummed, replacing the bottle and locking the cabinet presumably for the night, “Once my tavern is empty, I consider myself off the clock. And I’m my own boss, so I hereby give myself the night off. I have a coffee machine in the back room, one of those Keurigs, if you want something fancy. Hasn’t been used in ages, but I’m sure if you wanted something, I-”

“No, it’s okay. Really.” Patton ducked his head and messed with his shirt, making sure the white collar stood above the neck of his sweater. He made his way over to the bar and took the same stool as before, leaning on the counter as Roman dumped out the dirty cleaning water into the sink. The clock above the bar, barely illuminated enough to see, revealed it was just after midnight. “Are there any old structures, like churches or anything, in the forest?”

Roman tilted his head, giving Patton a look over his shoulder he couldn’t quite understand.

“There’s nothing there besides wolves and ticks, sweetheart,” he said slowly with an almost condescending smile, “Why? Hoping the little town in the middle of nowhere has a mystery?” He rinsed out the bucket and placed it in the cabinet under the sink.

Patton shrugged, scratching at his temple, “I saw something outside of my window.”

“Like a tree?” The rag was rinsed as well and draped over the faucet.

“No, definitely not.” He tried not to feel too offended that Roman was clearly teasing him, but he was certain what he’d seen hadn’t been a tree. They were too tall, too angular, and too symmetrically placed for that.

“Pattycake, I grew up hunting with my dad and partying in those woods, and I would know if something were there.”

“Are you sure?” Patton implored, “There’s definitely something man made, could it be, like, an old castle, or something?”

There was a moment of silence between the two as Roman continued to look at Patton like he was crazy, the barest hints of an impish grin tugging at his lips, before he sucked in a sharp breath; as if he realized something.

On a dime, Roman’s expression contorted into one of anger, eyes alight with fury as he leaned into Patton’s space. As he spoke, his voice almost reverberated, like a choir speaking in unison.

“There is nothing in those woods, Patton. Understand? Don’t go wandering into places you don’t belong, or you won’t like what you find.”

Patton reared back from the forceful words, hand coming up subconsciously to readjust the hair on his face. Roman leaned just a tad closer, growling out a warning, “Got it, sweetheart?” The electric lamps on the walls, once creating such a homey, soft environment, suddenly flickered and Patton flinched, whipping around to face the large room as it seemed to strobe under the malfunctioning lights. Goosebumps spread across his arms as the flashing grew faster and his hand clamped over the back of his neck when a shiver raced up his spine.

“What’s going on? Why are-”

And then the lights went out completely, an eerie quiet settling over the tavern. Roman was silent. Was he even still in the room? Could he have left so quickly? The only sound in the empty room were Patton’s shaky breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, as he fought down a scream. He wasn’t a fan of the dark.

A single street light barely shone through the window, too dim to even light up the tables near the glass, and Patton turned to focus on it. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In… out… in… out-

A silhouette appeared in the window.

The lights were back to their original gleam before he could even open his mouth to scream, filling the room with a dull hum as if nothing had even happened. Blinking rapidly, Patton took a calming breath (it’s just old lights, it’s just old lights, relax) and swiveled back in his chair to find that Roman was smiling at him innocently, cleaning out a glass with a rag.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?”

“Didn’t you see that?” Patton asked incredulously.

“See what?” The bartender placed the glass into the last space in a row of them, giving Patton that same condescending grin as before.

Patton sighed and lifted his glasses to rub his eyes tiredly, shaking his head. “I think travelling for so long has me seeing things.” Careful as ever, in the same fashion he’d so masterfully perfected in elementary school, he shook his head to cover his eye- his stupid, left, ‘soulmate’ eye- before removing his hands and letting his glasses fall back into place.

Other kids won’t like it, sweetie. I don’t think the teachers will either.

I know you can’t help it, my love. If I could take this burden from you, I would. But this is yours to handle until… well, you know.

I don’t know why, Patton. You’ll find them someday. And then you’ll understand.

“Why do you do your hair like that?”

“Hmm?” Patton blinked.

Roman smirked, leaning casually on the counter in front of Patton, “Covering half of your face like that. You shouldn’t, you know. You’re a stunner.” With that, he reached forward, intent on moving that hair out of his face.

No.

“NO!” Patton yelled, stumbling off the barstool just as Roman’s hand made contact with his face. He ducked his head, roughly scraping his hair back in place with shaking hands, but the damage was done. A single cute guy compliments him and he forgets the habit he’s built up for years? How could he be so stupid-

“Everything alright? I’m sorry for scaring you, sweetheart.”

Was it possible he hadn’t seen it? Maybe Patton had moved fast enough, maybe the bartender had been too surprised to get a good look, maybe everything was fine. Roman didn’t seem horrified, or at all perturbed. Instead, he just looked… worried.

Either way, after that reaction, Patton was aching to be left alone to stew in his embarrassment. His rented room held nothing for him that he wanted, and sleep felt farther than ever, so his only choice was outside. The promises of a maybe-crumbling ancient building, illuminated by a full moon, were far more tempting than anything inside had to offer.

“Actually,” Patton said nervously, “A coffee would be great.”

Roman squinted at him, biting on the inside of his cheek before huffing a breathy laugh through his nose. “Alright, darling. Give me just a second to dust off the Keurig.”

The moment he disappeared behind the door to the backroom, Patton tightened his hold on the camera bag and sprinted from the tavern, into the grips of the cool night.

-0-0-0-

What would he say when he got back to the tavern? Would Roman make him leave the inn? Had he crossed a line he hadn’t known existed; would he have to cut his trip early because he couldn’t help his curiosity? Was bothering the only innkeeper in town really the smartest decision to make?

All wonderful questions that Patton wished he’d considered before running.

But if he did have to leave, and if this was his last night in this delightful and equally terrifying little town, he was going to make the most of it. At least, that’s what he’d thought he would do as he’d left the few city lights behind and treading deeper into the forest. He had a flashlight with him, thank goodness, so he wasn’t completely screwed, and he’d already gotten a few great shots. He stayed in the areas that the full moon could still shine through the trees, and some of the clouds had rolled away, so he was having the time of his life working with silhouettes against the star filled sky (thanks to the little to no light pollution Dewmore offered).

The more prominent thought in his mind, however, were the spires steadily growing closer above the treeline. He couldn’t understand what Roman had been talking about. How could anyone living in this town not see whatever he was walking towards?

(Admittedly, curiosity was also a huge reason he was chasing something he’d been warned to avoid. He’d never been that great at impulse control.)

It had to be nearly two in the morning when he came to an incline; a steep path constructed entirely of rocks fist-sized and larger. At the top, Patton could just barely see what looked to be the back of the castle, and he bounced slightly on his toes in excitement. He couldn’t tell from this distance the state it was in, or if it was possible anyone still lived there, but dang it if he wasn’t going to give it a go before he left. He’d walked all this way, after all.

The first few steps up the hill were the loudest thing he’d heard since he’d started his midnight adventure, and he cringed as they dropped away under his feet, knocking against each other as they fell to the ground.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Patton spun around, his flashlight slipping out of his hands. It rolled down between the rocks, casting split second light beams in every direction as it bounced towards the source of the voice, and stopped dead in the middle between the two of them. It settled on an indent created by Patton’s steps, aimed at the newcomer. Patton breathed a sigh of relief.

“Roman, goodness gracious! You scared the bejesus out of me,” Patton laid a hand on his chest and let out a huge gust of air. Roman didn’t move, and for the first time he noticed the absolute glare the bartender was giving him. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uhm… sorry about the… leaving. Thing. Are you mad?”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Well, apparently they weren’t going to talk about it. “Oh- I’m sorry, is this private property? I didn’t see any signs, I’m- Wait, but look, Roman! See, that’s what I was talking-”

“You. Shouldn’t. Be. Here.”

Patton blinked at the harshness in his words, taken aback. How was this the same easy going bartender that he’d met earlier tonight? Whatever was beyond this hill, though, Roman obviously wasn’t going to allow Patton to see. Maybe it was dangerous, or something? Either way, he couldn’t deny his disappointment. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I’ll leave-”

“How did you get here?”

“I… um, walked?”

“No!” Roman hissed, finally stepping forward and plucking up the flashlight from the ground, “You shouldn’t be able to see the castle, or go near it, how the hell did you get here?!”

Before he could answer, the other man froze, whipping around as if he’d heard a noise from his left. And then Patton blinked, and Roman was in front of him, pulling him back down to solid ground. He dragged him by the arm to a fallen tree that was propped up against its own splintered stump, leaving it angled just a few feet off the ground.

“How did you- You were just over there, how-”

“Get down!”

“What?”

“Get. Down!” Roman shoved his shoulders and Patton had no choice but to collapse, blending into a pile of ferns beneath the bend of the tree. “Take off the backpack, put it in front of you. It blends in better than you do.” He yanked off the dark green camera bag as he spoke, situating it in front of Patton. “Don’t move, don’t make a sound, don’t fucking breathe, Patton, I swear.” The flashlight flicked off and thumped to the ground as Roman walked away, leaving him standing in the pale moonlight. Patton debated reaching for the flashlight, but that would mean exposing himself from the foliage he was tucked in and under, and Roman had seemed really scared.

There was a rustle in the underbrush in front of Roman, and the photographer shoved his fist into his mouth before he could gasp.

“Roman, it’s so nice to see you back home. It’s been far too long.”

“It’s been hardly a month, mother.”

The woman that emerged from the tree’s shadows wore a black cloak, nearly blending into the forest around her as the fabric swirled hypnotically by her ankles with each step. Silver embroidery made up the tight bodice and strung together the corset front, meeting at the bottom in an intricate knot and trailing almost down to the earth in two strands. How her intricate updo had stayed intact through a walk in the forest, Patton couldn’t understand.

However, if this was Roman’s mother, he did understand where he got his looks. The only word that came to his mind was ethereal; all smooth pale skin, those same impossibly dark eyes, red lips curved in a constant, easy smile. She was beautiful, but she was terrifying, and Patton backed up more into his fern hiding spot.

She lifted her flared sleeves towards Roman as she stepped into the moonlit opening and he pulled her hands towards himself, kissing both of her cheeks before releasing her.

“A month is too long, darling,” She purred, letting the back of her hand trail down his cheek. “I don’t understand why you find it necessary to stay amongst those humans when you could be with your family.”

“Because I want more than just… lounging, and talking with my brothers. Do you have to bring this up every time I visit?” Despite his slightly aggravated tone, he leaned into her touch.

“When you’re older, you’ll look back at these choices with embarrassment and resentment.”

“Maybe.”

“I just don’t want you to blame me when you do.”

“I could never, I promise.”

She sighed heavily, “They miss you, Roman. We all do.”

“Which is why I’m here, mom. You act as if I’ve been gone a millenia.”

“Worrying is what a mother does best,” She smiled fondly, tapping his cheek with her finger, “You’re home, darling. Drop the glamor? It must be tiring keeping it up constantly.”

There was a moment of hesitation, where Patton couldn’t help but tense up along with the man in front of him. Then the air shifted, like it had been holding a breath it could finally let out, and though there was nothing different that Patton could see from Roman’s back, a certain jolt of fear hit him out of nowhere.

“There’s my boy.” The woman drew him in for a proper hug, one hand reaching around his back to rest on his head. She pressed a kiss to his hair when he wrapped his arms around her in turn. Suddenly her nose wrinkled and she pulled away, holding his shoulders at arm’s length. “Dearest, you smell like humans again.”

Roman chuckled, but there was a new quiver in his voice. “The only flaw in being surrounded by them so often. Let me change, and I’ll come meet you for dinner.”

She didn’t move, eyes narrowing as she watched his face. “No… it’s not you.”

“What? What else could it possibly-”

“There’s a human here.” Her voice was utterly calm, but she pushed Roman behind her resolutely. “There must be.”

“What?!”

A low growl filled the air, and it took Patton a few moments to realize the sound was originating from her. She stepped past Roman, her dress flowing soundlessly along with her as she glared into the woods around them.

Her eyes flashed red.

Once again, Patton shoved his fist into his mouth to hide a scream. That same alien jolt of fear returned as she moved closer to him, seemingly zeroing in on his location.

“Mother, come now. You’re being silly. Humans can't even come near here, remember? You made sure of that yourself!”

Patton tore his eyes away from the advancing woman and his breath caught in his throat. Roman had followed his mother, trying to placate her gently with a hand on her arm, and in doing so, had turned towards Patton’s hiding spot.

When Patton opened his eyes shortly after being born, he was taken away from his mother, despite his parent’s strong objections and his wails. He was returned hours later, much to their relief. On his birth certificate, his right eye was labeled blue. His left eye, the side usually taken by the natural color of his soulmate’s, was labeled ‘Defective’.

When he was set to start school at six years old, his mother sat him down on his bed and taught him how to properly cover his left eye with his hair. They’d grown it out enough to do so. Patton had asked why it was necessary, and subsequently learned the truth that not all people were as accepting and loving as his parents.

When he was ten, he returned home from school crying. He dropped into his mother’s arms and she held him until his sobs turned to sniffles, until he could explain between sharp breaths that a bully at school had revealed Patton’s eye while trying to force him into a fight, and… well, his classmates hadn’t taken it well. Those who weren’t downright afraid of him, refused to eat or sit with him anymore. But it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t help it!

His eye was labeled ‘Defective’, because never before had the doctor’s seen a child born with a red eye. Not the pale color that came with pinkeye, or an allergic reaction, but the iris itself was such a bold, blood red color that it had left the team scrambling for any record of such an incident. They were left with more questions than answers. But the world had yet to understand how soulmates worked in the first place, so they chalked it up to another universal mystery.

Every day for as long as he could remember, Patton had stared into a mirror first thing in the morning, greeted with calm, airy blue on one side, and fiery, almost electric red on the other.

So it was jarring to see such a sight, yet reversed, on another person. But as Roman tugged again on his mother’s arm, there was no denying it; the man’s own color was a gleaming ruby, and the other was Patton’s very own blue.

“Mother, look,” Roman blurted out, scooping up the discarded flashlight from the forest floor, “This is a human tool. I’m sure this is what you’re smelling.”

She ripped the device from his hand, shaking it in his face, “That is still far too close to home, Roman! Humans have been here, and I guarantee they are still nearby.”

“And you don’t know how many there are, Mom!” Roman insisted, taking her hands. “It doesn’t matter how they got here, or why they did,” A slow grin spread across his face, highlighting a pair of glinting fangs, “Why don’t you gather the family, and we can find them together? I can’t even remember the last time I really ate.”

The woman was satiated by this answer, though she still cast the forest cautious looks. “Stay put, Roman. We’ll be back shortly.” Her nose wrinkled again. “Along with a change of clothes for you.”

And then she was gone, the only remaining trace being the tiny cloud of dust she’d left behind. Roman was calm for a moment, making sure she was really gone, before his demeanor dropped. The cocky smirk was gone, and he no longer held the confidence he’d had, either as a bartender or in the presence of his mother.

“We don’t have a lot of time, c’mon! Let’s go!” He crouched before the log, extending his hand to Patton.

“What the hell are you?!” Patton shrieked. Interesting, that those were the first words from his jumble of thoughts that came out.

“Oh, come on, do you really need to ask? I’m pretty sure you already know!”

And yeah, Patton was pretty sure he knew. He wasn’t an idiot. He’d had a teen Twilight phase, so of course the obvious answer was there. It just… it wasn’t possible. His brain was scrambling for any kind of other solution, anything that made sense, but it all kept circling to the same answer.

The cute bartender at the inn was a vampire.

…

Okay then.

Next problem.

“I… yeah. I think I got it.”

“Good! Now let’s go!” Roman grabbed Patton’s hand and yanked, effectively pulling him from his hiding place and nearly tearing the arm from it’s socket. Patton stumbled from the sudden movement and tripped on his camera bag, yelping as he crashed into Roman’s chest.

The vampire’s hands instantly wrapped around his waist, steadying him as he found his footing.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m all good, I just-”

Roman was much taller than he’d thought; that was the initial thought that came to mind as he looked up at the man holding him. The second was, well, the fact that his jaw had dropped open upon seeing Patton’s eyes, and for the first time since they’d met, the guy was completely speechless.

Patton felt his left eye began to tingle as they shifted into its own natural color. He ignored it.

“You really didn’t see it? At the bar?” Patton whispered.

“No, you moved too fast,” Roman murmured, bringing a hand up to Patton’s cheek. “You… you’re my-”

He must have sensed something, or heard something that was too quiet for Patton’s ears, because his head whipped towards the castle.

“We need to go. Now.” Roman intertwined their fingers and pulled him into a run towards the town.

“Wait, no! My bag!” He tugged hard to try and get his hand free, but he was truly no match for Roman.

“Not important right now, sweetheart!”

Without the aid of his flashlight, and enveloped by the darkness of the forest, Patton was totally blind, relying only on Roman’s grip to keep him from falling. Branches hit his face and roots reached up to trip him, but every time he stumbled, the hand tightened and pulled him back upright.

A howl cut through the air.

“What now, werewolves?!” Patton shrieked.

“Don’t be ridiculous, werewolves aren’t real!” Roman scoffed, “They’re normal wolves! What, you think just because we’re vampires, we’re unable to have pets?”

“Is this really a conversation we should be having at this exact moment?!” Patton shot back.

“You’re right, you’re right, okay.”

The howls were growing closer, and it was clear by Roman’s increased pace that this wasn’t about to be a friendly reunion.

“Can we outrun them?!”

“I take it you’ve never met a wolf!”

Patton looked up at him desperately, already struggling to keep up the conversation and keep up with Roman.

“I thought vampires had… like, super speed!”

“I wouldn’t be able to go for long, especially carrying you. Jump!”

Patton leapt blindly, feeling the side of a fallen log scrape the toes of his shoes. The landing was rough, sparks of pain shooting up his legs, but he was quickly pulled back upright.

“I don’t have the energy! I haven’t eaten in months!”

There were more yowls, definitely closer this time, followed by the sound of multiple animals fighting, barely louder than a voice shouting (presumably) at the racket. Whether it was the wolves having a spat, or a prey animal that had gotten in the way of the hunt, Patton didn’t know. It drew out a small whimper from him either way.

He didn’t want to be next.

“Do you trust me?” Roman suddenly gasped, holding his hand firmer.

“What?!”

“Do. You. Trust. Me?!”

Patton didn’t exactly think he had a choice right now. His feet were aching, his lungs were burning, and he wasn’t sure he could run another minute without his legs giving out. “I- Yeah! Sure!”

“Good enough,” Roman grunted bitterly, screeching to a halt, and using his grip on the other’s arm to stop him too. Before Patton could even bring himself to complain, or scream at him, or just incoherently yell, the vampire was drawing him to his chest, puppeting his arms so they were around his shoulders.

“Hold on.”

Obediently, Patton tightened the grip. “Why-”

And then there was a sharp pain in his neck, and his eyes widened. The sting almost immediately morphed into a pleasant warmth, the distant howling being replaced by a faint humming, the buzzing of his own mind calming, becoming numb until the only thought in his head was Roman, Roman, Roman-

He could feel Roman’s hand on his head, not restricting it, but cupping the back of it so he could lean against him as he stared up at the night sky, the full moon, and the slow blurring of the tops of the pine trees. His other arm was wrapped around his waist tightly, holding him up, and Patton was beyond grateful for the support as his legs began to turn to jelly. The last thing Patton felt was the vampire scooping up his legs and his head being cradled against the soft material of Roman’s shirt.

Then everything went dark.

-0-0-0-

Patton woke up slowly, squinting against the harsh sunlight streaming through his window. He dropped an arm across his eyes lazily, letting out a low groan at his pounding headache. There were voices downstairs in the tavern, and what sounded like dishes clanging, and he wondered if somehow this place was also a restaurant. How on earth could anybody run an establishment like that? It’s like the place never slept-

A wave of nausea pooled in his gut due to the speed of which he sat up but that wasn’t important, not right now. He flung his blankets back and… oh. He was dressed in his pajamas. Last he could remember, in the woods, running with Roman, he’d been in day clothes, in the sweater and shirt that was now draped on a chair across the room. His camera bag was... on the desk. His shoes were by the door, dirt free.

He raised his finger tips to his neck, expecting to feel a raised scab, or scar, any sign that he’d been bitten. There was nothing.

He swung his legs over the sides of the beds and immediately shut his eyes, fighting off an explosion of dizziness induced sparks that shot across his vision. It sure felt as if he’d lost some blood. As much as he didn’t want to believe he had a hangover from one drink, that could also be an explanation. He’d always been a bit of a lightweight.

A dream. Was it all just… a dream?

A feeling of disappointment washed over him and he sighed, running his hands up through his hair. Something soft snagged on his fingers and he carefully detangled it from the curls, pulling it out curiously. He blinked at the fern leaf between his finger tips. That definitely hadn’t happened between his car, the tavern, or the room... So-

He sucked in a breath sharply as his eyes locked with the mirror’s reflection in front of him, every thought coming to a halt.

Because staring back, for the first time ever, were two perfectly blue eyes.

I have a bunch of world building ideas that weren’t included in this fic, shoot me an ask if you have any lore questions!

General taglist:

@max-is-tired

@private-snippers

@joylessnightsky

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #royality #roman sanders #patton sanders #vampire au #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides au #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction

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draayder · 3 years ago

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Don't mind me, sometimes I do the lists backwards just to cover every base but you can answer in numerical order: 12, 9, 6, 2?

12. What is your favorite theme/subject matter/trope/ship to write about? Why?

it's probably gotta be mutual pining, given that that is the star of my two big ass fics. the first time stuff where everyones still figuring stuff out and fumbling around is the most exciting part of a relationship for me to write I think

9. What inspired you to write your first fic?

the very first fanfiction that I ever put words to a page was actually a very generic overwatch McCree/Hanzo thing lmao. I never finished it or even got particularly far into it but it was entirely because I wanted to see more gay things happening in the world. The first one I actually finished and subsequently published was also wanting to see more gay things in the world but also a) I wanted to fix that Saejima scene in Y4 and b) I wanted to get my feet wet in fic writing before jumping into writing Majima and especially before writing Majima/Kiryu

6. Describe what you do and your feelings after posting a chapter. (For example: When do you usually post a fic/chapter update? How do you celebrate a posting? Are you the type to refresh constantly?, etc.)

I post it bassssically as soon as its done for shorter stuff, but its usually right before I go to bed that way I don't just sit there anxiously refreshing 😔

2. Talk about a favorite comment you received.

oh boy I'm very much a "my fave comment is the most recent nice one I got" lol, but in general my faves are from trans people like my stuff and maybe even learn something about their options(!!!), and of course any comment that says my characterization is good. top of my maslows hierarchy of needs is being good at writing Majima

#ask game #agentshilonglang

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dustofbrokenheart · 4 years ago

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The Covenant: Top Anon

Pogue Parry x Reader

Word Count: 2,288

Summary: You have a loyal follower who comments on every post under your food blog. Just who is your favorite follower and why is the new grocery boy kinda cute too?

It was a new year and the start of a new you. Well, that is, a you who was trying new things.

In the past, you always made resolutions, but that spirit ran out before the month of January was even done. But after the particularly rough time of the past year, you swore that this time would be different, that you would make a serious effort to do something new.

It was that determination that led your current situation—your kitchen countertops were covered with ingredients and cooking utensils, your cell phone resting on a near by tripod for filming purposes.

The goal for this year was to try running a blog, and since you were a bit of a foodie, it made a lot of sense to center the blog around cooking and food. The idea came to you quickly; the hard part was deciding on a name, which took a while.

Eventually, you settled on The Foodiest. Naming was not one of your strong suits, but it was enough to get the point clearly across to potential viewers.

Choosing the layout design was on the same level of easy as deciding and didn’t take more than a day or two to implement on your site. Thank goodness for the existence of pre-made layout templates that saved you the effort of having to code everything yourself.

With of the work on that end finished, the day had finally come for you to actually cook something to post about. Seeing as how January was a cold, winter month, you chose to make mashed sweet potatoes. Not only was it one of your favorite winter side dishes, it wasn’t hard to make either, giving you the confidence that even if your writing was lackluster, at least the food would look good.

Most of the blogs you were familiar with used a combination of text and photos for readers to follow along with, but you were going to try video in place of images. You sometimes struggled to copy based on what was shown in the photo, especially when you first started cooking, so you hoped video would make it easier on budding chefs who came across your content.

Luckily, the video would be sped up and lapsed for the final post to spare people from having to watch the monotonous parts in full length.

Hands on your hips, you surveyed everything one last time to make sure it was all ready. With a satisfied nod you reached forward to tap the large, red record button on the phone.

You debated whether or not to talk while filming but decided against it. You were nervous enough posting to the blog without having the added stress of talking.

Everything happened in its regular order: you started by peeling and chopping the potatoes, a basic step, but you took your time doing it, paranoid as ever that you would cut yourself with the knife. Next you boiled the bright orange chunks in a pot of water; then put them in a mixing bowl once they were cooked. And finally used an electric mixer to blend it all nice and smooth, adding in milk, brown sugar, and cinnamon.

Swiping your pointer finger through the finished product, you hummed with delight at the delicious, sweet taste. You pulled out a presentable bowl from the cupboard and spooned some orange fluff into it for the final reveal. Reaching blindly towards the far end of the counter you grabbed a bag of pecans to top off the mashed sweet potatoes. You scrutinized it and added more pecans for good measure.

Doing something in front of a camera was very different than doing the same thing on a normal day. Tension leeched out of your shoulders and you exhaled loudly with your head leaned back. A sense of pride warmed your chest, especially as you returned your gaze to the picturesque bowl. It looked great and tasted even better.

There was a large portion of leftovers because the recipes you used were collected from family and meant to feed small armies of people. You did your best to eat what you could and made plans sharing the rest with friends and coworkers later.

A few days after you published the post, you decided to check the stats on your account dashboard to see what the public response to it was, if there was any at all. Google analytics was useful for counting the total number of views it received while the blog site itself tracked the likes and… a comment?

Initial shock gave way to a bolt of excitement that had your fingers tingling with energy. You clicked to read it, wondering what it may say. Fingers crossed it was something good, whether it came in the form of a compliment or some constructive criticism.

Anonymous: wow good job

The chair creaked as you sat back slowly. You didn’t know how to read that, there wasn’t a whole lot to go on. Wow good job, said sarcastically? Wow good job, said excitedly? It didn’t help that the commenter didn’t believe in using punctuation either. And since it was submitted anonymously, there was no easy way to track down who sent it.

But maybe you were being too paranoid about it. You decided to take it as a compliment and cracked your fingers before firing off a response.

Foodiest: Thanks anon! I had a lot of fun with this dish. Hope you tune in for the next one :)

Anonymous never followed up with that particular exchange but they commented on every post without fail for the next two months.

Anonymous: nevr had white chili before it was good

Anonymous: the stuffed pepper were good

Anonymous: good call with the shrimp

Of course, all of the messages were sent as anonymous, so there was no 100% guarantee that it was the same person, but your gut feeling told you that it was. Who else had no respect for grammar rules and religiously used ‘good’ as their only descriptor?

You grew to expect, and enjoy, the weekly comment left by anon and made sure to leave a nice response in return. It was hard not to feel a connection to someone who took the time to try your recipes and leave a nice message. If only you could figure out who it was or at least have a name for them besides anonymous.

Foodiest: I’m glad you liked the recipe! My gramma swore by mayo when making grilled cheese. Thanks for always liking my stuff, if you ever want to talk more feel free to message me!

There. Maybe that would make them feel comfortable to give you their name you thought as you powered down your laptop for the night.

You spent the next couple of days leading up to the new post planning on what recipe to cook. Yep. Definitely not hoping for more information about anon.

For this newest post you decided to make some Indian curry, one of your favorites. Even long after you finished cooking, taping, and cleaning, the potent scent of spices was still heavy in the air, like aromatic nirvana that had your mouth watering even with a full stomach.

You tried your best not to refresh the post every few minutes to see if anon commented but it was tough. It turned out that you didn’t have to wait long as they left a comment within twenty minutes.

Anonymous: havent cooked this yet but looks good. Never really had indian before so have to go buy the stufff first – po

Anon finally gave up a name! You let out a happy noise and read it again. Po… short and to the point, just like all of the previous responses had led you to think about them. There was no time to waste, you hurried to write back, initial typos all over the place as the words out-paced your fingers.

Foodiest: Hi Po! It’s nice to have a name to put with your words. I would recommend going to an Asian Market for the spices, they’re more likely to carry them. Let me know how it goes for you :)

Since that conversation, Po and you chatted frequently about the weekly recipe choice, whether or not it looked good and if Po had plans to make it themselves, which they often did. Po seemed to like all types of food; vegetarian, meats, drinks, desserts, even ethnic dishes from places as far off as Bolivia and Morocco.

And the longer you two talked, the more frequent the messaging became. Whereas in the beginning Po would only submit a compliment that you would follow up with a ‘thank you’, it had turned into lengthy back and forths that took up a majority of the comment section for each post. More followers joined as the months went by and you hoped that they weren’t intimidated by your blatant favoritism but it was just so easy to talk with Po. If you were being honest with yourself though, it wasn’t only that it was easy… you genuinely liked talking to them.

Every time you made a new post it was difficult to not refresh the page every few minutes to see if they had left a message. And when they did, it was like a shot of electricity straight into the system where your heart would jolt and your face would flood with heat. You were hesitant to say it was a crush given that you didn’t know what they actually looked like and the computer screen barrier made it so you were content to define it as friendship.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you grabbed your wallet and keys while putting on shoes so you could make a quick run to the store. You had big plans to make some buffalo chicken wings for the blog this week and you needed to stop by the store to pick up some ingredients that you didn’t have, namely Frank’s Original Red for the buffalo sauce and blue cheese for the dip. Being an adult and responsible for your own grocery shopping was a chore at times.

Luckily, Winter had thawed out into Spring so there was no need for you to warm up or car or scrape your windows. You just hopped in and drove the four blocks it took to get to the store. The plan was to cross the stuff for the wings off of your list first and then browse around for some good snacks to tide you over for the next week or so. Things were going according to plan until you saw him.

A tall boy wearing an employee apron stood in front of the cracker section, his jaw line and soft looking long hair catching your eye. Then he reached up to the tallest shelf to restock some boxes his arms flexing slightly to show off his heavy biceps and his shirt rode up, exposing deep cut ridges in his lower abdomen. To put it simply, you were starstruck.

He finished with the boxes he had in-hand and went to grab more from the cart at his side when you noticed your blatant ogling. Rather than confront you about it he merely smiled and moved out of the way so that you could get to the brand that you wanted. Choking from embarrassment, you kept your head down and threw a box of Goldfish into your shopping cart, speeding to get out of the aisle and his presence.

The store was a small local business and you frequented enough to know most of the workers there but you didn’t recognize this one, meaning that he must be new. What a way to make a first impression on him. Clearly your constitution was no match for his rugged, good looks. Then he was polite enough not to comment on you objectifying him which somehow made you feel even worse about it.

You decided to end the shopping trip almost immediately knowing that you were too spooked to continue shopping lest you run into him again.

You rolled the shopping cart into an open check-out lane and started putting your things on the conveyor for the cashier to scan. It just so happened that you knew the cashier—she was a middle-aged lady who’d been at the store for nearly two years. “Hi, Y/N. Find everything you needed?”

“Hey, Eva. Yes, I did.” You tried to steady yourself. Eva had a notoriously sharp eye and wouldn’t hesitate to question you if you looked off.

She left you alone today, engaging in normal chit chat, until she had trouble scanning the bottle of Frank’s hot sauce. Eva frowned when it didn’t want to scan and tried again but the bottle slipped from her hands and the neck of it shattered. Eva cursed and huffed, hurrying to throw the bottle into the trash before more leaked onto the register.

“I am so sorry, hun! I’ll get you another.”

“It was an accident,” you assured. “I can get it myself—"

“Not a problem,” she assured you with a wink. She pulled a walkie from her hip and spoke into it. “Hey, bring me a bottle of Frank’s Original Red Hot Sauce. Quick.”

You barely had time to don your awkward smile as she talked about how her neighbor’s dog kept pooping in her yard when the guy from the cracker aisle walked up behind Eva and handed a bottle of hot sauce to her. She took it and patted his back to get him to move forward.

“Thanks, hun. Y/N this is the new grocery boy—”

“Pogue,” he interrupted. “My name is Pogue.”

_______________

Another fic where they know each other but don’t know that they do. This time featuring Pogue and his fandom accepted interest in food. I picture him to have bad messaging skills — his fingers struggle with those tiny phone buttons.

#the covenant #pogue parry #pogue parry x reader #imagines

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missingjackklinehours · 3 years ago

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when tomorrow comes 🌳

good gods i know it's ship day but this is solely a gen michael & lucifer & raphael & gabriel fic :')

Inspired by Sam & Dean's S.W & D.W carvings on Baby. Who's to say the Archangels weren't first in that idea?

Rating: G (Gen Archangels fic)

Special thank you to my beta!

Playlist & Fic available on AO3. (it's also under the cut, if you prefer that!)

Heaven's lush hills always seemed greener and livelier when all four archangels lay against them. A rarity the occasion was, a trivial shard of diamond in the cascading abyss. It always seemed that Heaven needed an archangel here, there, everywhere at once; It made familial bonding far more complicated than things used to be.

However, a special day plucked from each year never failed to offer the archangels plenty of time together. A day of thanks, a day where Heaven displayed gratitude for their eldest brothers—Michaelmas, the Feast of the Archangels.

Morning sun rays highlighted soft violets and dusk plums of aster flowers, a humble gift for the very firsts of their species. By nightfall, bright angel-made clusters of heat-producing hydrogen and helium littered the black sky in the name of each archangel. Fledglings flocked to watch the fiery protostars burn in the cosmos.

While Lucifer happily revelled in the praise, Michael hid his jittery hands by tucking them behind his back and flashed a polite, yet photogenic smile to his newest siblings. Raphael, seemingly indifferent to the holiday, remained by Michael's side, occasionally shooting their brother a subtly reassuring look. Jovial, yet also graciously wanting to include others, Gabriel mingled in the crowds with the fledglings to watch the protostars, enthusiastically explaining to Heaven's children how the young stars would eventually grow to become massive beacons in the night.

By the time the thick, yet routine night fog had clouded the view of the protostars, the flocks of angels had dissipated. It was their cue to leave; The archangel hideout awaited. Or, as Lucifer liked to call it: the Badass Lair.

The refreshing air genially accommodated them, the chilled wind carried their wings as they flew. There was always a sense of thrill around the Autumn Equinox, nearing Michaelmas—perhaps it was the comforting thought of familiarity, a high from nostalgia of sorts. Whatever the seed, it didn't matter; Focusing on the blossom of a sibling’s love and appreciation was much easier.

Raphael's garden always seemed to flourish increasingly with every rare gathering the four indulged in. Even midair, as they descended upon the immense greenery below, Michael had already begun to muse about how the banyan trees had expanded since his last visit. Raphael quietly, yet blithely soaked in the adoration from their archangelic brothers.

The softness of the grass, however, always remained the same. Lucifer was the first to land, being the quickest flier of the bunch. He cracked an astonished grin as he surveyed his younger sibling's growing garden, slightly pivoting to catch the vibrance of Raphael's indigo feathers amongst the blackness of the sky.

"Not bad, Raph!" The Morningstar loudly called out, adding more quietly with a snicker, "For a kid."

The thunderous sound of strong, flapping wings echoed behind him, prompting Lucifer's playful smirk to widen.

"I'm literally only four hundred years younger than you," Raphael's familiar voice remarked, and Lucifer turned once again to meet his sibling's deadpan expression.

"And despite the age difference, Raphael has created far better things than you have, brother," Michael offhandedly commented as he silently landed farther away from the pair. Lucifer's face contorted into a pout, and Raphael fought to contain their own appreciative smile at the eldest angel's words.

"Woooow, Mi! I'm hurt!" Lucifer faked offense.

The heavy fog of nightfall seemed to become almost pellucid at the very presence of Heaven's firsts. Peeks of sheer luminosity from the protostars of Michaelmas seeped from the impervious midnight clouds. Even the banyan trees seemed to lean into the comforting presence of archangelic grace.

Lucifer squinted into the elegant cloak of the night sky. "You think Gabe's gonna break his neck when he crashlands?"

Raphael turned their attention to the sky in search of the youngest archangel in question. "He's been getting better at landing. He'll do fine."

Lucifer hummed in response, brightening slightly when he caught sight of Gabriel nearing the garden. "Mn, doubt it. Wanna bet? Loser has to listen to Michael's fifty page manifesto on why ducklings are Pop's best creation."

Raphael blinked, looking over to Michael in bemusement. "Your-... your what?"

Michael's eyes darted to Lucifer to glare daggers at him, who only sniggered in response. A gust of wind washed over the trio, and frantic fluttering of golden wings broke Michael's glower. Beside him, Gabriel was close to landing—or rather, close to failing at landing. It was really more similar to falling, with his limbs flailing all about and eyes squeezed tightly shut in preparation for impact.

Michael sighed hopelessly at the sight, extending one of his grandiose fuschia wings low to catch his younger brother. Upon the soft sensation of Michael's velutinous feathers, Gabriel's eyes reopened in surprise.

"Hey, no fair! You interfered!” Lucifer huffed at Michael, who merely rolled his eyes and helped Gabriel to his feet.

“I almost made it, I was so close!” Gabriel whined, furrowing his brows as Michael thumbed a smudge of leftover party sweets that was stuck to his cheek.

“Next time, bug. You’ll get it next time,” Raphael reassured, and Gabriel’s grace seemed to relax at his older sibling’s encouragement.

Lucifer yawned, and the twinkle of the protostars above them began to reflect the dew on the grass. “M’kay, new bet. Last one to the tree has to listen to Michael’s manifesto.”

Gabriel perked up curiously and cocked his head at Michael. “What manifesto?”

Michael shook his head and stubbornly huffed. “I was two hundred years old, Lucifer. The duckling phase of my life is over.”

“Oh? So you’re saying ducklings aren’t the greatest living creatures?” Lucifer pried, exaggeratedly leaning his ear towards Michael to hear his response. Raphael and Gabriel eyed the two bickering brothers and exchanged amused glances.

Michael shifted uncomfortably in place in an attempt to keep in his passionate ramblings; He ultimately failed. “I never said that. Ducklings are the epitome of absolute goodness and commendable purity in the universe. The best traits of all of creation can be found in their small yet mighty little bodies. Not only do they bring togeth--”

“Blegh, no more lectures! Lulu, your bet’s on!” Gabriel groaned, spreading his sets of still-developing golden wings.

"'Atta boy," Lucifer impossibly brightened, his grin quickly returning. "On three! One... "

With one singular number down, Lucifer watched in incredulity as Gabriel mischievously laughed, a flash of golden feathers passing them all by. After the initial shock wore off, Lucifer briefly hummed, nodding in approval.

"Touché, little brother, touché," The Morningstar muttered to himself, before theatrically shrieking into the night, "YOU'RE DEAD MEAT, GABE!"

Gabriel's boisterous bursts of both elated and happily frightened screams in the distance elicited an endeared smile from all three of the older angels. With a whistling streak of vermillion wings, Lucifer chased after his youngest archangelic brother.

Michael and Raphael observed them in comfortable silence, the illumination from the protostars just bright enough to see the vivid colors of their wings against the midnight sky. As the breeze audibly raked through the trees, Raphael slightly swiveled to curiously peer at Michael.

"I'd actually like to hear about these ducklings," Raphael calmly stated, gesturing with their head towards the specific tree that Gabriel and Lucifer were headed for.

The blinding look of pleased excitement on Michael's face was enough to bring a smile to Raphael's lips.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

In contrast to the vivacious growth of much of Raphael's garden, the Badass Lair retained all of its youthful glory.

The haphazardly-built abomination of a fort from sticks and logs stood distinctly adjacent to the veiny streams of the garden. Across from it dwelled a meager hill of lush grass and florid lilac petals of asters—A place where Michael taught all three fledglings to fly, a place where Lucifer created his first defective star, a place where Gabriel grew the lavender flowers as a gift to Raphael. It was their safe haven, a site of alleviation and bliss.

In the center of both dear venues settled a special banyan tree— their banyan tree.

Against the smooth, grooving bark of their tree, Michael’s ginger fingertips almost seemed to purr. The swaying aerial roots that veiled the intricate trunk wavered joyously over his head, and in a sense, their tree looked overjoyed to see Michael. Behind him, Raphael sincerely watched at the way their older brother’s fingers reverently traced the markings on their tree.

“You know… it’s not just gonna disappear, Mi,” Raphael’s voice was soft, a kind whisper carried by the midnight wind. Michael’s hand never halted against the tree bark, marginally turning his head to look at Raphael with a sad smile.

“That’s true,” Michael’s gaze fell back to the etchings on their tree. “It just seems like it was yesterday when… You three have grown too fast.”

Raphael sympathetically tilted their head, stepping forward to place a soothing hand on Michael’s shoulder. Up close, the carvings on their tree stood out boldly, a beloved memory held close to all of their hearts.

Under the then-small aerial roots of their banyan tree, each fledgling archangel had carved their names into the young bark. Something to hold onto, Michael had stated, a bittersweetness as Heaven had first begun to flourish; The eldest had an inkling that duty would steal time spent together—And he was right.

Raphael could still make out the places where Michael had once helpfully guided Raphael’s shaky hand, the spelling mistake in Lucifer’s name, the heart that Gabriel had drawn after his name, and Michael’s near-perfect handwriting, even in carving-form.

“Lusifer?” Gabriel, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, squinted as he approached the base of their tree. Both Michael and Raphael struggled to repress a thoughtful smile as Gabriel sounded it out again.

“That’s how my name should’ve been spelled!” Lucifer called out from above, and his siblings gazed upwards to catch him resting against an exposed branch. “Lucifer with a c… ridiculous! Looks like luck-i-fer.”

Michael’s rapture remained as he lightly shook his head. “Brother, you are just stating this because you lack efficiency in spelling.”

Lucifer playfully stuck his tongue out at his older brother. Michael scoffed in good nature, and Gabriel giggled at the sight. Raphael’s attention wandered outwards to the perched hill, a peaceful silence enveloping the archangelic siblings.

The argent light from the protostars shone divinely upon the lucid green and lilac of the hill, an invitation of sorts. The sifting breeze was cool, a grateful lullaby to its archangelic inhabitants. The night was the epitome of perfection, though not because of nature—rather, because of the familial love that radiated energetically from each of their graces. A comforting peace, a cherished silence of nostalgia lingered between the four… until Gabriel’s reticent, yet hopeful voice proposed a profound request.

“I wanna stay with you all forever,” His voice was dreary, a sweet innocence embedded into his tone. It prompted all eyes to shift to him. “Let’s stay together no matter what, okay?”

A beat of tranquility followed, their banyan tree leaned in to listen. Michael was the first to react, tugging Gabriel into a tight hug, a sentiment that few were blessed upon. Gabriel’s toothy beam was evident in his quiet giggles as Michael held him close, before the eldest pulled back with a gentle smile of his own.

“Of course,” Michael assured, crystal emotion brimming in his eyes.

A rapid flash of vermillion flared from the top of the tree, and both Gabriel and Michael’s squeaks of surprise induced a jump from Raphael. Lucifer, who had quite literally deliberately plummeted from the tree, now held both of his brothers in a deathgrip hug, a wide grin across his face.

“You’re a real dumbass if you think you’ll ever be able to get rid of me,” Lucifer sniggered lovingly, and Gabriel leaned into his brother’s embrace. Michael lightly elbowed Lucifer for the profanity, yet his delighted simper lingered on his face.

Raphael shuffled closer, eyeing their brothers with absolute admiration. Their hand moved to lightly ruffle Gabriel’s hair, who turned his cheery beam to his sibling. Raphael’s brothers observed them with a giddy sense of euphoria, the aura resonating a promising hopefulness in anticipation for their response.

“Without a doubt.”

#SPNArchangelWeek #this one might be my favorite of my own despite my crippling self doubt about all of them :D #archangels spn #spn archangels #my fics

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