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beskarhearts · 3 years

Text

Three Times (Din Djarin x reader)

Connection series Pt. 10

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings: cursing, sexual tension (I think that’s it but let me know if I missed any)

Word count: just over 9.0 K

Summary: It’s now been three times that Din Djarin has almost kissed you and you are going insane.

Notes: I did not plan on this coming out any time soon but I’ve spent all day ignoring my responsibilities and writing this. And I am too excited to wait so surprise shawty! Please please please tell me what you all think!

Previous Part ____ Next Part

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Being back with Din and the child was the biggest relief, especially now that there were no secrets.

For the first time in a long time, you felt good. Like truly good. You had accepted what you were and made a compromise: you didn’t have the proper training to be a Jedi, nor did you know if you were ready for that, but if you needed to use the Force to protect your family, you could be okay with that. Din had reasoned it was no different than him using his armor, which you supposed in some way was technically true.

You also felt more at peace than you had since your family passed away. Being able to properly say goodbye to your family on Jakku, and able to share fond memories with Din, had been exactly what your soul needed. You had also realized when you were there that you could feel that your family was always with you. They were part of the Force now, meaning they were always there. So every-time you felt joy, you no longer felt guilt nagging at you because they were there with you, seeing it.

Now you were with your family and you don’t think you’d ever been quite so happy. You and Din left Jakku and things were back to normal. But it was even better because now there was no wall up between you and the Mandalorian. He accepted who you were and you accepted who he was.

It had been a few days since you were reunited with Din and everything was perfect. Well, almost perfect.

There seemed to be only one problem: Din Djarin was driving you crazy.

When it first happened, you thought maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe making up false fantasies in your head and projecting them onto Din. All just a figment of your imagination.

Then it happened again.

And again.

And you were completely sure that you were not nuts or looking into anything. It couldn’t be a coincidence when it happened three damn times within the span of a few days. It had to be purposeful. Din wasn’t accidentally doing this. And now, you felt like you were constantly on the edge of your seat, waiting for some big climax that wasn’t happening, for reasons unbeknownst to you.

So you were left with one question.

Why the hell had Din Djarin almost kissed you three times but never actually done it?

___________________

The First Time

Din and you now had a new routine. Every night at dinner, you’d feed the child first and then get him to hang out in his hover pram afterwards, keeping him occupied with a toy until he drifted into a small nap. Then Din would come down to the hull and you’d sit together on the floor of it. Din would insist you eat first so you’d do so. Once you were done, the kid would usually be asleep and you’d close the lid to his pram before Din handed you the scarf he always had wrapped around his neck. You’d take a seat across from him, wrap the fabric around your eyes, and then he’d eat.

It had been a long time since you’ve shared a meal with someone regularly. And you would guess that Din probably had never done so, or at least not on a regular basis. And sure, it wasn’t normal and the helmet made it more complicated, but it was the closest to normal you could get. So you were fine with it. Loved it even. It was one of your favorite parts of the day. Din now got to enjoy at least one meal a day, eating it normally rather than hiding away to do so and scarfing it down as quickly as possible. In return for wearing the blindfold, you got to the hear his voice which you still swore was one of your favorite noises in the world. Sometimes he wouldn’t even be talking but you could hear his breathing, a small hum leave his lips, or something small like that and it felt like a gift.

Tonight was no different. The child was in his pram, your blindfold was on, and Din was eating away at the portions you had. Not the most amazing meal, but it made it better being with him. You sat with your back against the wall, Din next to you eating. His thighs were touching yours, shoulders crammed together, but he didn’t move and you didn’t mind the contact so nor did you.

“You smell nice.”

You felt your eyebrows quirk up at the random compliment. You two had been relatively quite tonight, just enjoying each other’s presence. This was the first thing he had said in a while and you couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips. “What?”

“Sorry.” You heard the sheepish edge to his tone and you blindly reached a hand out, patting his knee reassuringly.

“Oh no, please continue.” You said with a smile and heard a huff.

“You are teasing me.”

You paused and suddenly felt a little rude. He was being nice. That was a good compliment. I mean, you never really took much interest in your own scent but you had noticed how Din smelled. It was earthy and warm and dusted in cinnamon. “You smell nice, too.”

You heard Din snort at that. “Okay.” He sarcastically said and you let out a scoff.

“I’m not just saying that! You do. You smell nice. Like cinnamon and wood and manly stuff.”

“Manly stuff?” You felt yourself flush as he repeated your own words but you just nodded your head, hopefully aiming yourself towards his face.

“Yeah. But good manly stuff.”

“Hmmm.” You heard Din hum. “You smell clean.”

“Thank... you?”

“It’s nice. Like fresh laundry.” You heard him take a bite before continuing, “And honey.”

You smiled warmly at his description. You don’t know if you ever realized that but it warmed your heart to hear Din say it, in some weird way. “Well thank you.”

Din was quiet for a while but you didn’t hear him take anymore bites. It was just complete silence and if it weren’t for his body pressed against your side, you would of been convinced he wasn’t there. You went to say something until you heard him speak. “You look nice too.”

A warm feeling filled in your chest at the words. The compliment was so inherently Din: short and to the point with a bit of that endearing awkwardness that he had sometimes from lack of experience with others. You knew you were smiling stupidly and your face felt flushed, though you hoped it was covered enough by the blindfold for Din to not notice. You brought your hands together, your fingers twirling together as you awkwardly chuckled. You didn’t know what to say so you just settled on a small, “Thank you.”

“You have a nice smile. It’s big and bright, like you.” You were about to say something but he continued on before you had the chance. “And I like the way your hair feels. It’s soft.”

You were feeling yourself get more and more flustered as he continued. You weren’t used to a lot of compliments. You remembered the first time Din had called you beautiful but that was when he saw your scars for the first time, and you assumed it was partly said to be nice. But now hearing Din express this made you shift in the spot you sat in. “Din-“

“And whenever you concentrate on something or think about something, you bite your bottom lip. By the time you finish something that is kicking your ass, your lip is all red.”

You had never even realized you had done that. It seemed like such a small thing no one would notice about a person. But of course Din noticed. He seemed to notice everything. “Din, you can-“

“Your lips.” You froze at the two words, waiting for him to continue but he paused. You turned your head in his direction and he was close enough that you could feel his breath on your face. Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt him brush some fingers against your chin, angling your face up more. “They look sweet.”

Holy shit, you could not handle this. You felt your hands begin to shake slightly as you waited for anything. For more sweet nothings to drip off his lips like honey, for his calloused fingers to brush against the angle of your chin, for his breath to get closer and closer. Anything to satisfy the desperate ache you felt in your chest. As the silence you dumbly let out a small, “So do you.” Your brain didn’t even process what you were saying and you felt yourself cringe at the stupidity leaving your lips.

“You’ve never seen me.”

You felt yourself bite down slowly on your bottom lip, now aware of the habit of yours. “Uh, it’s an educated guess.”

You heard a chuckle come from him, the sound sending waves through your body. A hand finally met your face, wrapping around your chin lightly as it was angled just a little bit higher. If he just leaned forward, just the tiniest bit, he’d probably be kissing you. He was already so close. Just one more movement. Maybe you could even close the distance, though you weren’t sure if you were brave enough and didn’t want to do something stupid since you were blindfolded.

You felt Din shuffle, moving slightly until your heard a small clang and his hand yank away quickly. “Dank farrik.” He hissed and you felt your whole body sag as he moved away.

“W-what happened?” You felt numb still and were barely able to mutter out the words.

“I just spilled something. I’ve got to clean it.”

That was when you heard the soft yelling from the pram where the child slept. It was muffled since it was closed, but it was distinct. “You put your helmet on and get the kid. I’ll clean the mess.”

“But-“ Din cut short before letting out a grunt. “Okay.”

It was only a matter of seconds before he gently was pulling the scarf off your face. You blinked a couple times as your vision adjusted, looking at him as his helmet looked down at you. You could feel how warm your face was still, how your hands still trembled just oh so slightly. You gave him a soft smile before nodding at him.

He rose up from where he was hunched down, bringing his body up as he walked over to where the pram was. Opening the lid, the child immediately stuck his pouty little face out. You almost could laugh at the pathetic expression on his face if it weren’t for the way you still felt like your mind was racing.

You were pretty sure that Din was going to do it. Was going to kiss you. You could curse the galaxy for intervening. What if that was a one-time thing? What if he never tried again?

You brushed your hair behind your ear, leaning forward to clean the mess while your mind raced with thoughts of Dins fingers on your chin and a pair of lips you’ve never even seen landing on yours.

___________________

The Second Time

It was the next night and things were going very smoothly. You and Din had dinner as usual. The kid fell asleep without a problem, which was a blessing because he had been going through a rough patch where he screamed for hours until he eventually wore himself out enough that he just passed out. You had gotten a shower in before climbing into the cockpit where Din was sat as usual, waiting for you. You padded over to the passenger seat, plopping down onto it with a relaxed sigh. Din looked over at you, his helmet glancing up and down your figure before it settled onto your face.

You liked to imagine what he looked like under it. You wondered if he was returning the small smile you gave him and if so, what did it look like? Did he have dimples? Did his eyes crinkle when he did so? You wanted to know so desperately what he looked like but you never wanted to disrespect his creed or make him think you cared about such trivial things. Because in the end, you didn’t really care what Din looked like under the helmet. No matter what he looked like, he was still your Din and that was all that really mattered. But that still didn’t quell the burning curiosity. You wanted to know what the man you respected and loved so much looked like, just so you could envision him a little clearer in your mind.

“What are you thinking about, sweet one?”

You looked away from his intense stare. “I just sometimes... wonder what you look like is all.” You suddenly became flustered and rushed to say something else. “But I don’t care. I’d never disrespect your creed and it doesn’t really matter what you look like. You could be the ugliest person in the galaxy and that’d be fine. Not that you are ugly. Although I don’t know. But I am sure you aren’t ugly. Probably very nice looking actually but I wouldn’t know so who really-”

“Stop.” Din let out a chuckle as you stopped talking, feeling your face heat up from your nervous blubbering. “It’s okay. It’s only natural.”

You shook your head and looked back at him, his helmet still aimed towards you. “Yeah?”

“Of course.” Din shuffled in his seat, before tearing his gaze away. His hand clutched onto a control, not even doing anything with it but just holding onto it tightly. “You can... ask questions. That isn’t against the creed.”

You felt a grin begin to grow on your face. Maker, you had always wanted to ask him questions but you never wanted to be rude or overstep your boundaries. But here was explicit permission and you felt your brain come up with so many things to ask hi,. You wanted to know everything but you just started with one. “How old are you?”

This was necessarily directly about how he looked, but you realized not so long ago that you had never asked him. He didn’t sound old and his body was in good shape. “Older than you.”

Your eyebrows quirked up at the answer. You honestly thought he probably was around your age, not much older if at all. What if this whole time you were stupidly pining for a man who was too old for you? “How much older?”

“Not too much. But enough.” He grunted and you narrowed your eyes at the nondescript answer.

“Hmmm. Okay.” You strummed your fingers against your thigh before settling onto your next question. “Do you have hair?”

“Yes.”

“Like on your head? Or your face?”

“I have hair on my head. Sometimes on my face.” You felt yourself swoon at the idea of him with facial hair. Maybe a nice patch above his lip or maybe stubble dotting his chin. How you would love to feel his hair, even if just for a second. Run your fingers through it. Maybe feel it against your skin...

Your train of thought was broken as Din looked over at you and you clammed up, realizing you were spending an inappropriate amount of time thinking about his hair. You didn’t even know what it looked like and it was already driving you wild. “Um. Okay. Is it soft?”

Is it soft? What kind of question was that? You almost brought a hand to cover your face but you heard Din chuckle at the lame question. “Is it soft?” he repeated, in a teasing tone.

You looked away from him with a flushed face. “Oh, never mind. That was a stupid question.”

Silence filled the cockpit as Din looked away from you and back to the control panel. “Do you,” Din paused and you barely looked at him from the corner of your eye, seeing the way his body seemed to clench up. “Do you want to feel it?”

You couldn’t help the way your head whipped to face him directly, your eyes widening. Maker, you couldn’t think of anything you would rather do in this moment (besides maybe kiss him). You couldn’t even bring yourself to speak, just slowly nodding in a trance-like nature before mumbling out something along the lines of “yes please.”

Din nodded and took his hands away from the panel, settling them on his neck to tug at the fabric. “Come over here.”

You surprised yourself by how quickly you stood from your seat, despite the way your whole body felt numb at the interaction. Din stood up as well, the scarf finally in his hands as he faced you. You stood in front of him, trying to hide the excitement you were feeling but failing to do so with the glint in your eye. Din gave you a nod, which you returned, before he brought the scarf up to your eyes. It usually smelled like him, earthy and like cinnamon, but it seemed even stronger today. You didn’t know if it was because all your senses were going into hyperdrive because of what was about to happen or if he did something different, but you took what you hoped to be a subtle deep breath in as he finished tying it off. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You said clearly, waiting for the sound of his helmet being removed. The hiss and click of it filled the silence of the cockpit a matter of seconds later and you heard him place it somewhere, probably on his seat. A pair of hands reached out to grab at yours. You were surprised by them. They were Din’s hands, covered in the gloves he usually wore like normal. But you could feel the way they were shaking slightly, the way they held onto yours a little tighter in order to steady them. “Din, we don’t-”

“No, it’s fine. I just...” He trailed off and you shook your head understandingly. You wondered when the last time Din’s face had been touched, especially by a loving hand. Had it been a friend or his mother? You couldn’t imagine he hadn’t had one loving touch since his family died all those years ago but you supposed it could be possible. He had told you he never took his helmet off in front of people, until you.

“It’s okay.” You whispered quietly, letting him guide your hands at his own pace and not rushing him. You wanted him to be comfortable and be in a safe environment. He could go at his own speed, no matter how much your fingers itched with desperation.

Din slowly started to bring your hands up higher, going at an excruciatingly slow pace that made your chest tighten up. But this wasn’t about you. It was about Din. They could feel him trail upwards, feeling your fingers graze the cool metal of his chest plate as they moved higher and higher. Din brought them to his shoulders, still clad in armor, and he placed them there. Resting your hands against him, he brought his hands away, placing them down at his side. You heard him breathing, the steady in and out slowing down slightly and relaxing. You kept your hands where he had put them, letting your fingers just barely grip onto the metal sat upon each shoulder. You spent a few moments like this before he said, “Okay.”

You brought your hands up just slightly, waiting to see if he’d stop you but when he didn’t interrupt, you allowed yourself to slowly continue on. When your fingers finally grazed the warm skin of his neck, you heard Din suck in a breath and pulled away quickly. You were surprised as his hands quickly grasped onto yours, bringing them back to the place you had torn them away from. “Din?”

“It’s okay.” He reassured you and you nodded at him, wondering if he was looking at you. You let the tips of your fingers trail up, the warmness of his neck dancing on your flesh. You felt your hands rise up more and more before they landed on a ridge. It was his jaw and Maker, he had stubble. You sucked in your own breath, your bottom lip being sucked in between your teeth, as you allowed more of your hand to reach out. You slowly grasped onto his jaw, feeling the angular curves of it. It was strong, angled, and deep. The hair nipped at your hand but you continue bringing it cross his chin. You felt a small patch of skin amidst all the short hairs, bring a finger to rub at it lightly as a shy smile graced your face. The hair on his chin nipped at your finger lightly, almost tickling your skin, but you didn’t mind.

Din stood completely still, the only sound he made being the steady in and out of his breathing. You continued feeling your way around his jaw when a light touch grabbed onto one of your arms. You felt his hand wrap around your wrist, the way his gloved thumb lazily draw circles into the bare skin. It was almost too much for you: how warm his skin was under your hand and the way the spot on your wrist seemed to tingle as Din touched it. You almost felt the need to say something but determined this moment was too pure for words. Nothing had to be said. You just needed to feel.

You finally brought your hands off of Din’s chin, to which you swore you heard a small whine leave his lips that caused your face to blush a violent shade of red. Instead of bringing his hands back to your skin, he allowed you to wrap a hand to the back of his neck, feel at the small strands of hair that led up higher and higher to his hair. You lightly grasped onto the nape of his neck, to which you definitely heard him let out a small gasp and you paused your movements, not moving away but giving him a second. “Are you okay?”

“More than okay.” Din just barely whispered, so silent that you swore you wouldn’t have been able to hear it if it weren’t for how quiet it was and how your ears tried to compensate for the way you couldn’t see. You hummed back to him as your let your fingers splay out onto the skin of his neck. You slowly let your hand drift up, your fingers beginning to drive into his hair. Your other hand reached up to his face, laid out onto his cheek which you felt his physically lean into. The skin of his face was peppered with stubble and you could feel a few indents into the skin, probably from the life of fighting he has lived. His skin was rough, felt masculine and raw, but it was also so warm and soft. It made the flesh of your hand tingle, your fingers cupping his face even more.

Your other hand moved higher before tangling into his hair. It was longer than you had expected and probably messy from his helmet and your wandering hands, but it was so soft. “Din, you are so beautiful.” You muttered.

You felt Din freeze before you, the hand still on your wrist no longer rubbing circles. You almost worried you had done something wrong until his other hand reached out to your waist, grabbing onto it and tugging you closer to him. You chest was now pressed against his, both of your faces so close to each other that you were practically sharing air. Your grip on him tightened slightly, feeling the way he let out a deep breath. “Sweet one...”

His said it so quietly but it was like a song flowing out of him. You brought his face down with your hand, bringing your forehead against his. You had done it so many times before when he had the helmet on but never was it your skin against his. “How did you know?”

You furrowed your brows at his question. “Know what?”

His breath fanned over your face. “When you press your forehead against mine... The Mandalorians do that as a form of affection.” You had never known that. It just felt like the natural thing to do with him since the helmet posed such a barrier. Just a gentle tap seemed like a reassuring way to provide comfort to him. “It’s called a Keldabe kiss.”

Your hand twisted into his hair more and his grip onto your waist became even tighter. “Oh.” you gently said, your foreheads both pressing against each other even more, you standing on the tips of your toes slightly to try to get closer. Both of your noses brushed against each others and you could almost cry because of how beautiful the moment was. How comforting and breath taking it felt to be so close to Din.

He nuzzled his face against yours even more, his nose touching yours. His lips were so close, all he had to do was lean forward. Fuck it, all you had to do was lean forward.

Just as your were about to lean into him, you felt the fabric of the scarf begin to slip down from behind your head. You clasped your eyes shut tight, ripping your hands away from Din and bringing them to hold the fabric back up. “Kriff.”

Your hands shook wildly and your heart was pounding even harder in your chest than before. You heard some movement, followed by the hiss and click of the helmet being put on. But you still couldn’t bring yourself to move your hands away. You just felt your chest rapidly inhale and exhale and Din’s labored breathing fill the silence. That was so close. You could of ruined Din’s creed, his whole entire life, in just a matter of seconds. “I’m so sorry.” you let out.

Din sighed and you finally pulled the fabric down, looking over at where he stood by his chair. He was looking down at the ground rather than you and simply shook his head. “I didn’t tie it well. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s mine. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“I offered. It’s fine.” Din’s helmet tilted up towards you. “We should probably sleep.”

You nodded, feeling your flushed cheeks begin to cool and your breathing ease into normality. “Yeah.”

___________________

The Third Time

You and Din weren’t quite so lucky the next night.

The child was back to crying into the latest hours of the night. You usually had a pretty good read on the kid. You could detect the smallest of subtleties of each sound or face he made. You knew whether he was hungry, tired, bored, or agitated. Din had told you once that you seemed to always know what he needed and you supposed that was true. But tonight was not that kind of night.

The child had been screaming. For hours now. You and Din had tried everything. You fed him his favorites food and while it would silence him for a while, the tears would just rage on once he was done eating. You had both taken shifts, holding him and rocking him but that didn’t seem to calm him, in some cases the smothering just seemed to bother him even more. You had given him toys, given him the ball from the ship he loved, sang songs, danced for him, tried to play hide and seek. You had tried anything he had ever expressed liking before but nothing worked. The best you could get was an exasperated look from the kid, like he was judging you for your lack of success.

Din and you were losing it. It was so late and you both were absolutely floored. You couldn’t think of one thing to stop the screaming. Until Din suggested you two just let him rage on. He had placed the kid in the pram, leaving the lid off, and sat down on the floor beside you. The kid’s screaming continued but he didn’t say anything or try to provide comfort. Din and you just let it keep going. At this point, you just hoped he would wear himself out or realize he was going to receive no attention from you two and stop his tantrum.

That didn’t stop it for hours though. At one point you had told Din you needed to do something but he made the great point that there was nothing to do. Absolutely nothing would calm the kids hostile attitude and logically, he had to fall asleep at some point. He was going off steam at this point, not having slept since the night before and using so much energy being a complete womp rat. He needed to pass out eventually from pure exhaustion.

You and Din both sat on the floor, eyes hooded and bodies limp. You two were drained, not even bothering to try to speak over the hysterics, and your minds were like blank slates. You didn’t think or move. Just zoned out completely.

Zoned out so much that you drowned out the yells being emitted from the child until you were torn away from it. Wait a second. You lifted your head from where it was limply laying against the wall, bringing yourself to stand up slowly. You looked over at the pram and sure enough, the crying had stopped. The child was laid back, arms splayed out, having finally worn himself out enough to sleep. His small body rose and fell, eyes fluttering slightly as he made small, sleepy noises. If the kid hadn’t acted like such a demon for hours now, you would of thought the scene was so endearing, the maternal part of you flooding with happiness at the little child so soundly and peacefully asleep. But instead you just felt relief and utter joy, sleep-deprived joy, but joy nonetheless.

“Holy shit.” You whispered out, looking over at Din.

Din still sat against the floor, his helmet leaning forward so the bottom of it leaned against his chest, no longer wearing his armor but his usual pajamas. He had tried to sleep earlier since you claimed you had it under control, but he had shortly realized you certainly did not have it under control, nor would he be able to hear with all the noise. He didn’t even bother to move at the sound of your voice, just grunting and letting out a exhausted “What?”

“Shhh.” Din finally looked up as your hissed and raised his head, looking into the pram floating a few feet from him. You couldn’t see him but you could see his shoulders perk up as he realized the child had finally fallen asleep. “I can’t believe he is asleep.”

Din slowly rose from his spot on the floor, not wanting to make any unnecessary noises that could wake him up. He carefully stepped towards the pram, stopping right behind you. You felt his hand grab at your wrist, slowly pulling you away gently from where the pram was. “C’mon.” His whispered as quietly as he could with the helmet on, his voice deep and sleepy through the modulator.

You turned around, away from the child, and let Din lead you, letting your body limply follow him to the entrance of his cot. He gestured his head for your to enter and you didn’t even bother to argue, crawling in. You let your body fall into the padding of it. His bed wasn’t too comfortable but it was better than the sleep-away one you normally used. It also smelled like Din and one of the blankets you two had gotten from the marketplace was laid out on it. You brought the fabric around your waist, letting the warmth of it sink into you. You didn’t look up but felt Din shuffle into the small cot behind you. The two of you in the same cot was a bit silly, since it was so small and you two had to be so close to each other, but you didn’t mind. Shortly after he crawled in, the door to it shut, blocking out all the light as you heard the hiss of his helmet being removed. You smiled as you snuggled into the bed more, whispering “I can’t believe the womp rat fell asleep.”

Din let out a quiet chuckle as he placed his helmet down, bringing himself down onto the bed, laying on his side with his chest pressed against your shoulder. You began to move, trying to shuffle a little bit away as to give Din more room to relax, but instead you scooted back rather ungracefully, your head slapping into the metal that encapsulated the bed. The noise was loud enough that you and Din both sucked in a breath, waiting for the kids screaming from earlier to resume. You waited a few moments and were pleasantly surprised when you were met with silence. “Be quiet, cyar’ika.” Din quietly scolded.

“Sorry. I didn’t try to slam my head into the wall.” You sarcastically responded and both of you let out a small laugh at the response. You couldn’t see a thing, but felt a shift, his body suddenly dragging over yours. He hovered over you, his body weight being held up by his forearms which rested on each side of you. You felt his warm breath fan over your face and smiled as you felt the lower half of his body press slightly into yours. One of his hands reached out to touch your head.

“You okay?” His fingers rubbed at your scalp slightly, a gentle movement that made you let out a hum. You would usually find yourself nervous with Din this close to you but you were too tired and too happy to find it in yourself. Instead you just lazily smiled as you felt him rub the spot where you had hit your head. It hadn’t hurt much, but his touch was so relaxing, easing away any discomfort that may have been. You just felt at home, like this was the right place for you to be in. You found yourself thanking the Maker as you leaned into his touch, so grateful he had come back for you. You don’t know how you could of ever lived without this.

Din’s head suddenly brushed back the side of your face and you felt a strand of hair tickle at your face. You didn’t even think when you brought a hand up, tangling your fingers into his hairs like his were in yours, rubbing slowly into it like you had done the night before. You heard Din let out a small noise at the contact, his face moving down closer to the side of your head. His lips just grazed the shell of your ear, whispering “You are so sweet.”

Your breath hitched a little at the feeling of him whispering in your ear, his voice completely overtaking you. His head moved a little and you gasp when his cheek grazed yours. The stubble your fingers had touched just the night before now grazed your cheek ever so slightly, enough that it didn’t burn but just seemed to tickle in the most pleasant way. “Din...”

You didn’t have anything to really say but you just wanted to feel his name on your lips and his skin touch yours. One of his hands landed on your hip and you whimpered at the contact. “You are beautiful, y’know?”

His voice was so deep and enveloped all your senses. You could still hear the weariness in it, but there was something else. Affection. You let yourself smile, bring your other hand to Din’s arm, grasping lightly onto his bicep and feeling the curve of his muscle. He wasn’t overwhelmingly muscular, but strong enough that you could feel it. Strong enough to make you feel safe in his arms. “Y-yeah?”

Speaking felt like the most difficult task. You couldn’t find it in yourself to say some snarky comment even if you wanted to. You were so tired and so overwhelmed by him. He smelled like cinnamon and bark. His touch was hot on your skin, his breath fanning over you face, cool and inviting. Every single one of your senses was just focused on Din.

“Yeah.” Din grumbled and you finally felt his lips meet your face, just barely grazing your forehead but enough for you to feel it. His lips were so soft, a welcome sensation. His hand on your hip lifted a second before you felt your clothes shift a little and then his hand was back in the same place, but bare skin underneath his fingers. You tried to hold back a whimper at the sensation, feeling weak at his touch. His thumb rubbed circles into the flesh and you didn’t dare move, not wanting him to stop. His other hand was still tangled in your hair, rubbing at your scalp with such tenderness.

You continued running your hands through his hair when you felt his nose brush against yours. You knew his lips were so close to yours and it took everything in you to not reach up and connect them. “Maker, I can’t even believe you’re real...”

You let out a sigh at his words, your other hand on his arm trailing upwards and wrapping around the back of his neck. You held him close to you as your legs tangled together, like you were becoming one being.

You felt him let out a big breath. You were slightly disappointed when his face drifted away, wanting him to kiss you so desperately you thought you would die if he didn’t. But instead you let out a gasp when you felt his lips press against the edge of your chin. Din’s other hand retreated from your hand, reaching down for the other side of your hip, both hands planted on you. His body weight shifted, his chest now pressing against yours more. The feeling of his lips on your skin was warm and short but it absolutely clouded your mind. You wanted more. No, needed more.

Dins lips once again pressed against you, this time a little lower and you tilted your neck up, giving him more room. “Din?”

“Yes, sweet one?” He whispered the words against your skin, causing shivers to run down your spine.

“Please.”

“What?”

“Just k-” That’s when the wailing began and you couldn’t help but to let out a small, “shit.”

Din suddenly lifted himself off you and you nearly whined at the loss of contact. You were so close to just telling him to kiss you. And he had felt so nice and of course, the child had to interrupt it. You heard Din clear his throat before he reached over, grabbing his helmet which was attached once again with a click. “I’ll go take care of it.”

The door to his bed opened and he slid off the cot, giving you one more glance over before he turned around to take care of the kid. You groaned quietly as you brought a hand to your face.

Your other hand reached for your neck, feeling how warm the flesh was where he had kissed it. You were loosing your mind. This was now the third time, where you had been so close to almost kissing him. And you swore you were on the verge of just telling him to get it over with.

But tonight wasn’t the night. Instead, you’d just try to sleep and hope tomorrow the child would be less of a gremlin.

___________________

You looked at the child who sat in his pram, dreary eyes looking up at you as he let out a yawn. You furrowed your eyebrows at him, arms crossed over your chest as you studied him. Last night he had finally fallen asleep, but only with Din holding him so Din had spent the night away from you, laying on the cot you had normally slept on with the child. Now the whole day the kid had been suspiciously well behaved. And now that it was night, and a reasonable time, he was sleepy. You supposed it was logically because of how little sleep he had gotten last night, but you still felt suspicious at the way he blinked up at you slowly, eyes drawing to a close before fluttering open.

“Listen, kid.” The child looked up at you sleepily, a small smile growing as he looked up at you. “You need to behave tonight. And sleep. Because I need your dad to finally just kiss me and you’ve interrupted two times now.”

The child’s expression didn’t change but he let a sleepy giggle out to which you frowned. “If you are good, I will let you eat my serving of chowder tomorrow, okay?”

The child’s ears perked up slightly at the mention of chowder and he laid back against the blanket in his pram, his eyes drifting closed. “Womp rat, good night.” You closed the lid to his pram, beginning to walk towards the ladder of the Crest when you bumped into Din behind you. Your hand flew to your chest, feeling yourself jump as you realized he was there. “Maker, how long were you there?”

You asked the question without much thought until you felt your face bloom red when you realized what you had just told the child. Because I need your dad to finally just kiss me. You looked up to Din’s helmet which was tilted down at you and felt your eyes widen just the smallest bit. Oh, Maker, please don’t say he heard it.

“Just came down. Heard you offer your chowder to the kid.”

You felt relief wash over you as you let out an awkward chuckle. “Hah, yeah. Anything to not have a repeat of last night.”

You slowly drifted away from the pram, towards the center of the hull of the ship. Din followed you, his boots tapping against the floor but it didn’t seem to disturb the child. You waited for Din to say something but he just stared back at you, arms crossed over his chest. You uncomfortably smiled at him, feeling uneasy with the way he was looking at you. “You are probably exhausted. We should go to sleep.” You said, hoping he would stop looking at you but to no avail.

“Last couple days with the kid has been rough.” He finally said and you nodded empathically. Rough was an understatement. You weren’t sure if it was a growth spurt, or perhaps instead of his terrible twos it was his frightening fifties. But either way, it had been a hard time.

“Yeah. Definitely not great.” You said. You copied his own stance, crossing your own arms over your chest and looking over at him.

“And very inconvenient.” He responded.

You froze in your spot, looking at him. Very inconvenient indeed. Especially for things like kissing. “Yup.”

“I don’t think I am going to be able to sleep.”

You couldn’t imagine how. Din had been up for as long as you had, having slept on your crappy cot last night instead of his bed. It was impossible that he wasn’t worn out. “Why?”

“I need to do something.”

You huffed. Din was always one to keep busy, always having something to do whether it was cleaning his weapons or doing something with the Crest. But he needed to finally just relax. Both of you did. “I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow.”

You finally moved, plopping down on your cot in the corner of the hull. Din just stepped towards you more, arms still held over his chest. “It’s waited long enough.”

“Oh really, what super important Mando stuff do you have to do now?” You sarcastically responded, beginning to pull away at the laces of the boots you wore. Your body was so sore and your mind was running at about half of what it usually was. You looked up at Din and frowned when he just stood over you, not saying anything. “Din, what are you doing?”

Din sighed and muttered out, “Sweet one.”

That was when you felt it. The tension in the room. It had been there for days now, ever since Din had almost kissed you during dinner than one night. It consumed every single thought you had, clouded over every conversation you had with Din. Made every touch even more electrical than usual. Every casual turn of his helmet made your chest clench. Every time you looked at him he got a little more rigid than usual. You both were waiting for the damn to break and for the tension to wash away. And hell, you both were trying your best but failing with every attempt.

You slowly rose up from your seat on the cot, standing in front of Din who was so close to you that your ankles were pressed against the padding of your bed. “W-what is it you have to do?”

Din tilted his helmet at you and you felt your face turn a shade of deep crimson. You were pretty sure you knew the answer. At least you hoped to the Maker it was or this would be a very interesting situation. Din brought his hands up, beginning to take off each glove and you gulped. “Din...”

“Take off my scarf.”

You nodded slowly, taking a minute to process before reaching your hands up to his neck. You pulled the fabric slowly, letting it flow off him softly as it slipped from his neck to your fingers. “Put it on.”

You nodded again, not finding it in yourself to speak. You gave him one last look before wrapping the fabric around your eyes, tying it so tightly around your head that you was bound to give you a headache. But you couldn’t risk it almost falling off again. You were damned that nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to interrupt.

The hiss and click rang out and you felt your hands begin to shake as you heard a thud against the cot behind you, Din having tossed his helmet there. Din grabbed your hands, bare fingers gripping onto yours ever so lightly, before he placed them on his chest piece, the cool metal sending a shiver down your arms. “Din?”

“Yes?”

“Please just kiss me already.” You felt shock jolt through your body as the words slipped through your lips. Your jaw went slack at your own boldness. You waited for a response but only heard silence and begin to pull away. Oh my Maker. You had been wrong this whole time. It was all just imaginary and you were just wanting it to be real. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I’m just going to-”

“Cyar’ika.”

“That was so stupid. And embarrassing. Like woah, where did that come from?” You tried to laugh, show you were unbothered by the painful uncomfortableness of the situation, but you just let out a wheeze.

“I want to kiss you.”

You nearly choked on the air you were breathing when you heard Din speak. “Okay. Well then, no offense, but why aren’t you?” You couldn’t help but to ask the question that was plaguing your mind so often lately. You had given him permission. Why wasn’t he just doing it?

“Uh, well...” You heard him drift off and frowned under the blindfold. You brought your hands back up to chest, letting your fingers splay out on the broad expanse of the metal.

“Is everything okay?”

Yes, you wanted Din to kiss you. So badly. But you also wanted him to be comfortable. And you could hear the uneasiness in his voice. It was subtle but it was there. And you never wanted him to be uncomfortable around you, even if that meant not kissing him. You felt Din let out a deep breath. “I’ve never... kissed someone before.”

You couldn’t help the way your jaw hung open just the tiniest bit, the way your body froze in shock. You probably shouldn’t be so surprised. The helmet definitely did make things like this harder: you now knew that from experience. But you couldn’t imagine Din had never kissed someone before. Maybe it was naive but you couldn’t believe no one had wanted to kiss him and that he hadn’t gone out of his way to make it happen. “Is it against the creed?” You mumbled out, trying to find some reasoning that was logical to you.

Din nervously chuckled, bringing a hand to your wrist to once again rub circles into the skin. “No, not really.”

“Not to sound rude, but how?”

“I just never found anyone that was worth it, I guess.” You paused at the explanation. You supposed that was logical. Taking off the helmet, even to just kiss someone, posed a risk. You had to trust that the person wouldn’t try to sneak a peak or didn’t have some ulterior motive to kissing you. Being a Mandalorian made even the smallest things like this hard to experience normally and you suddenly felt yourself soften. “You are worth it though.”

You couldn’t help the grin that broke out on your face, or the way you nervously but also giddily laughed. “Oh.” was all you managed to way but you trusted that Din could see your reaction and know what you were feeling.

“Just stay still, okay?” Din nervously asked.

“Okay.” You whispered. You felt his hand leave your wrist and both of them grab onto yours. He moved your hands from his chest to his neck, and you took it from there, wrapping them around the back of his neck, softly playing with the hairs there. Din let go, one hand dropping to your waist. His strong grip pulled you even closer, your bodies completely pressed together. The other hand grabbed lightly at your chin, his touch seeming to ghost over it.

He took a moment, just holding you against him, before he brought his hand to cup your cheek. “You okay?” He whispered.

You nodded. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” You heard the waiver in his voice and begin to rub circles into the back of his neck, feeling him calm slightly. He let his head drop a little, his forehead resting against yours as he took in deep breaths. You nuzzled your face up, your noses rubbing against each others and your breath caught in your throat as his lips just barely grazed over yours. Oh Maker it was already perfect.

“Din-”

“Shh.” You waited for the universe to mess with you. For the kid to begin screaming or for something to hit the ship. Anything to interrupt this moment but nothing happened. Silence consumed you both and all you could think about or feel or smell or hear was Din. It was all just Din.

Then his lips reached forward and you swore you couldn’t breath if you wanted to. They pressed against yours, lightly and gently at first. Just barely so but your lips molded into his, the shape of his seeming to fit yours like a key. You tighten your arms around him even more as he angled your face to deepen it, his lips moving just the tiniest bit. You felt yourself sigh in relief and his grip on your waist lightened.

You were right. Whenever you had thought about his lips, you’d always though they’d be rough but also soft. Gentle but strong. And despite it being his first kiss, you let him take control, let him move his lips against yours. Let his hand drift from your cheek to the other side of your hip, pulling you even closer to his body. He let out a small groan as he pressed into you even more, his lips moving against yours. You reciprocated, moving with him and you both seemed to naturally slip into a rhythm that didn’t require any explanation or talking. You tightened your grip around him more, bring your feet to the tips of your toes so you could press into him more. You needed more of him. You needed it like you needed air.

Din finally tore his lips away, not moving away from you but you just huffed as his forehead rested against yours again. You hadn’t breathed once when he was kissing you and now you felt the way your heart was racing, the way your blood seemed to boil. The way your chest was warm and tight, but in the most beautifully addicting way. “Din, are you sure you’ve never done that before because-”

He interrupted you, his lips pressing into yours again which you let out a gasp to. You both pressed even tighter, not knowing how it was possible. You felt him wrap his arms around your lower back, his hands pressing you closer to him. His lips just lightly nipped at yours for a second, swallowing you completely. You felt yourself sway into it, like it was a dance. You both leaned against one another and then you felt yourself lean back-

and fall. You both felt against your cot with a bang and you couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips as the biggest grin broke out onto your face. Din was pressed on top of you, his arms lifting his body weight a little. Your blindfold was still on, but you could feel the way he was looking at you. “Sorry.” he said and you laughed even more.

“I am not complaining.” You felt him lean into you more when the kid’s yelling began, obviously awaken by the loud clattering of you two falling down. “I should get him.”

Din pressed his lips into yours again, smiling into it. He pulled away the tiniest bit. “He can wait a minute.”

Then his lips pressed against yours and you wrapped yourself around him. Around the Mandalorian who you were now devoted to.

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the-paris-of-people · 3 years

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Hi. This is really not a question but more of a rant. A really really long one. I apologize in advance. I honestly care waaaaayyyy too much about this show than I should. Clearly too bored🙈.

After reading people's comments on this show and the ships, there are so many things that irk me and I thought I'd share even if I might get crap for it. So here goes:

1. "Ben only wants Devi when she is with Paxton." I.e. it's about Paxton. Lol people are funny. As though Ben thinks he can compete with Paxton on a social level. He's not stupid, he knows full well he can't. It's about Devi and in part her obsession with Paxton. People don't like thinking about things from Ben's perspective because they just don't like him. He's the one that finds out Devi is cheating, she runs after Paxton at the party ( now granted before she runs out, she's intensely staring at Ben and then realises Paxton is leaving but Ben's not gonna remember that) and she was busy chumming it up with Paxton in episode 3 in front of Ben with absolute disregard for him. So his natural defence is to guard himself and have his walls go up. It is a valid response. He burries his pain (exactly what Samberg said). And does not let his guard down around her romantically until episode 10 when Paxton literally rejects her at school. At the school dance, sparks are flying between those 2. Is Paxton around at the time...Uhm no (I'll get into the whole Aneesa thing). In his mind Paxton is out of the picture and it's like he can almost trust her again. And then when Paxton shows up with Devi, he basically feels like a fool for ever thinking that he was ever something more than 2nd best or sometimes anything at all ( especially considering Devi still wants Paxton after Devi and Paxton's last public interaction that Ben witnessed- I mean he does not get to see the shit behind closed doors). But then when Eleanor spills the tea, that look on his face is disbelief, yes a little bit of jealousy but overwhelmingly heartbreak. He is essentially watching the chance he never knew he had go away. Now you could argue that he should have known that she wanted him back but she broke his trust and does not explicitly say, " I want you back". Ben's not trying to get burnt again based on some assumption/hunch. He has been wrong before.

2. "How dare Ben be upset that Devi is with Paxton when he is with Aneesa". Fair point. Just like how dare Devi be upset and lose her shit over Ben and Aneesa. But yet it still happend. Devi gets 5 episodes allowing her to be upset and Ben can't even have one moment when a firkken bomb gets dropped on him.

Aneesa and Ben should have never date. Everyone knows that. He was never over Devi. He just pushed those feelings down to make him believe he was over her. I obviously don't agree with this. Aneesa doesn't deserve that. Ben needs to go to therapy. He needs an outlet. He is similar to Devi in that he doesn't want to process what happened and would rather move on and react. However, his reactions are far less impulsive/severe as Devi's. Him dating Aneesa is unfortunately a reaction. He didn't give himself time to really process how he feels. People say he dated Aneesa solely to spite Devi which is not true. Is there an element of " you never wanted me but someone else does"... absolutely but Aneesa is also very kind to Ben, they get along really well and she puts him first. Technically what's not to like. I mean if it was just to spite Devi, could he have not tried to hustle his way back in with Shira?? Problem is that dumb dumb didn't work through his Devi feelings and let's just be honest, the same spark and chemistry he has with Devi, is missing with Aneesa. It often feels forced, especially in regards to the pace of the relationship. I so wished Aneesa remained friends with Ben. That's what he needed...not another relationship.

3. "Aneesa is so amazing, she doesn't deserve to get hurt." I agree. She absolutely doesn't deserve to get hurt just like Ben and Paxton didn't deserve that crap Devi pulled. I think Aneesa is a great addition and I like that Devi has someone within her community to connect to. I'm South Asian myself and I genuinely value this aspect of my own life. I mean she is pretty great, kind and the anorexia rumour Devi unintentionally started was pretty heartbreaking. That scene where she talks to Devi at the relay about it, is so sad (especially coz we as viewers know Devi messed up). Now that being said is Aneesa also low key shady? YES. And it's not because she dated her friend's ex. It's because she started dating him knowing that Devi started the rumour about her because she was jealous about Ben and her. How does she think Devi would go from being so jealous that she starts a rumour, to the next week becoming their biggest "Stan". Come on girl. But there was no way Devi could say no after the crap she pulled with Aneesa. Ben did ask her out so if there is blame, he absolutely gets it too but he didn't know why Devi started that rumour (based on his surprised AF face when Eleanor spills the tea). Which leads me to my next question. Why didn't Aneesa tell him? Aneesa said Ben was supporting her through the rumour. She probably told him Devi started the rumour but didn't tell him why? That is odd? Clearly if Ben had known, he may changed his perspective on Devi actually wanting him instead of ignoring his feelings.

Lastly Aneesa knows there are unresolved feelings between Devi and Ben. This is evident from that dance scene. She literally runs to cut in their pretty intense conversation. Like why you running girl? I didn't think much of it at first but coupled with another moment, it makes a lot of sense. When Ben agrees to dance with Aneesa, he looks back at Devi and lingers and Aneesa picks up on this and pulls him away. It's a blink and you will miss it moment but it is there.

Now all of this doesn't mean she needs to get hurt but they probably need to break up. Ben needs to be single for a while and work through how he feels about Devi, Aneesa and most importantly himself. Whilst I don't particularly enjoy their relationship, you never get to see it from either of their perspectives. Maybe that could change things but honestly I just prefer Ben and Devi.

Also can everyone stop acting like Ben is dating Devi's best friend. Being brown doesn't make you automatically best friends and Ben and Devi met Aneesa the same week. People are acting like he is dating Eleanor.

4. "Devi chose Paxton". Please! The only thought through decision that girl made in regards to these 2 boys is when she chose herself and decided not to be Paxton's little secret. I mean in episode 1 and 2 she can't decide so she dates both. In episode 3, she interacts with Paxton because of the whole tutoring thing. He says they don't makes sense. While she seems a bit sad she doesn't seem too upset like she is season 1 and she isn't looking for any opportunity to spend time with him (unlike season 1). Episode 4,5,6,7 and 8 she is losing her mind over Ben. Half way through 8 she knows she has no choice but to let him go. But even after that she doesn't pursue Paxton. He does that at the end of episode 9 when in all honesty she hasn't really thought about him in a while. Then of course Paxton does what he does and she finally choose herself, issuing an ultimatum essentially. Paxton does eventually show up...but it's a choice by default. She just yo-yo's between them. She also needs to be single, deal with her loss, love herself and think about what she wants.

5. "Devi loves Paxton". Sure bud. Does have Devi have feeling for Paxton? Duh! But is it love. Nope. People like to confuse infatuation for love. She has been infatuated with this boy this the 3rd (she knew squat about him). When her dad died, she turns that infatuation into an obsession. It like becomes a full time hobby in season 1. She ruins relationships over it. In season 2 you can argue there is more depth to it and Paxton does grow in Season 2. But somehow she is still fixated on the fact that it's Paxton Hall-Yoshida. I mean she smells him (totally normal), Mc Enroe's comment at the relay was, "did this hunk of beef just say he likes spending time with her", when she breaks up him she says , "you are very good at kissing" not possibly any of his other good qualities. And at the end she says , "I guess I'm Paxton Hall Yoshida's girlfriend now". This boy is so far up a pedestal that if he fell of it, he'd break something. Now granted if he fell of it in Season 1, he'd be dead. So progress I guess...

Maybe the relationship will change in Season 3 and she genuinely falls in love with him. I mean Id be sad but obviously a real possibility. But also that relationship needs to move on from being just the "Paxton project" which it was basically all of season 2. Maybe actually talk about her every once in a while.

Also people who find the ending so amazing because he shows up...bare minimum bro. I understand his perspective, how does it look to go back with someone who cheated on you. Fair point 💯. However she didn't start this shit up again. He did. He liked her so much that he had to make out with her In the middle of the night out of the blue but not enough to respect her publically. That's some BS right there. If he started it, he should have thought it through instead of guilt tripping her. But he is a teenager and ALL of them make incredibly stupid decisions (we all have). Devi messed up big time too and she apologized. The same compassion must extend to him but in no way is it a grand gesture, it's the bare minimum...like her apologies

6. "Paxton forgave Devi forgave Devi so quickly whilst Ben didn't and was so mean". He did forgive her pretty quickly. Good for him. However let's not act like circumstance didn't carve the way for that. They were pushed together because of the whole tutoring thing and he knows that they have to see each other all the time. So logically just makes sense to keep the peace. But still mature oh his part. Also he wasn't as emotionally invested as Ben. Did he have feelings? Yes. However, based on his inner monologue (Gigi Hadid) his ego took more of a hit because how could Devi, the "weirdest girl" he ever liked two time him with Ben Gross. Did his feelings deepen by the end? Yes. But at the start...it isn't that deep.

Also it's great and all that he "forgave" her so quickly but he sure did like bringing it up a lot. Like at the relay guilting her, upset at the end of 6 because he failed...I mean wtf girl you owe me- I don't really care what else is going on in your life, again in episode 8 in the car and finally we all know the mess that is episode 10.

In regards to Ben. His anger is justified for reasons stated in point 1. In fact his reaction seems more real because he is deeply hurt by Devi. Do I like some of his reaction (i.e. nose piercing-will discuss this further) ...nope but she only sincerely apologises to him in episode 8 vs 3 for Paxton. He accepts it. People acting like they would be so calm and chill about being cheated on. And yes he did cheat on Shira. He tries to kiss Devi at party twice but apologises that day and the following week. He doesn't try anything with Devi the whole of episode 10 until she kisses him. He acknowledges that it was wrong and immediately breaks up with Shira. Although cheating is not something we should condone can we actually acknowledge that Shira was the worst and doesn't even remember Ben's name. Compare that to Devi's premeditated cheating. Her Eleanor are literally laughing at how amazing they are for pulling it off and Devi didn't care about either of their feelings cause she was going to be India. Sorry but that is far worse. She also thinks she can bullshit her apology with Ben. He isn't here for that...which is fine! He kept trying his level best to avoid her but even that she wouldn't let him do.

7. "Ben is Horrible". Has Ben done some shitty things. Absolutely. People complain that he has never apologised for anything. Fair enough. He needs to apologize for the UN comment and the psychosomatic comment. It was incredibly hurtful. However, no one does call him out of it. Now you could argue he should just do it. Please... have you watched these particular set of teenagers? None of them apologise without being called out on it first(except maybe Fabiola). And you only get called out my your support system ... which Ben does not have. He practically looks like he raised himself. He doesn't have parents to put him back in line or a sister to call him out on his shit. Devi has her mom, cousin, grandmum , Elanor, Fabiola and her therapist. Does she ever listen to them the first time? Nope. And her first time apologies are such messes. She only gets it right the 2nd or 3rd time. All of them have some form of support but not really him. And it is heartbreaking. It's why I genuinely believe he needs to go to therapy. He needs an outlet to express everything he feels. He also needs to be held accountable for those comments and understand the root of it (ok let's be honest Devi even in their rivalry was probably the most constant person in his life, and fighting with her meant she stayed close by- it's a subconscious thing). He should apologize to her and also find better ways to communicate what he is feeling. The nose ring thing was manipulative. I agree. He should apologize. But I'm not gonna lie, it doesn't piss me off as much because I think it's pretty messed that it took that for her to realise how much she hurt him. Also tbh if you were willing to alter your body on a 2 minute thought out dare, you wanted to do it anyway. But again not a healthy way to emote on Ben's part. The David thing doesn't upset me because he knows how to pronounce her actual name. It's not like he doesn't know how and doesn't bother to try. It was part of their rivalry to irritate her. I honestly find it quite endearing as part of their friendship and think Devi does. I may be wrong and she may not like it and in that case he needs to stop and apologize.

I am not upset by him coming over to her house and calling her out about Aneesa. She deserved it. Also if she was that uncomfortable she could have taken him outside to talk like she did with Paxton. She is clearly comfortable enough to have him in the house. And her therapist agrees with Ben. If he hadn't, she wouldnt have known that Aneesa was leaving. Her mom took away her phone. And even then her first attempt at an apology was soooooo bad. And I don't think Ben did it solely to get Aneesa to stay so he could date her. This is Ben, he was willing to do long distance with Devi from India, I think he could have done the same with Aneesa from like the same town 🙄

I genuinely like Ben because he is a good kid. He makes mistakes like they all do. His personality is hilarious to watch but also his and Devi's relationship is so special. Me liking Ben and Devi has nothing to do with what Paxton has or has not done. I just like the dynamic between the two. They obviously care deeply for each other. Their conversations are hilarious. I love their banter. I love how comfortable they are with each and am sometimes surprised by the depth of their conversations. But also they have amazing chemistry. All the jealous looks and angst are between these two idiots pining for each other. I think she does have chemistry with Paxton but it's more because he is PHY, school Adonis. I mean let's be honest, he'd probably have chemistry with Fabiola solely cause he is PHY. The two nerds just match each other and it's so funny how often they are in sync. It's honestly adorable. They just get each other. That bathroom scene was the sweetest thing and also proves he's not this terrible person. She only comes out of the stall because of his support. He is genuinely hurt for her when technically it should have been a great moment for him.

I do believe the two have to be single for a bit before admitting their feelings for one another and moving forward. That's why my main thing for season 3 is that he absolutely cannot interfere in her relationship with Paxton. He needs to give her the space to figure that. Do I think there will be moments between them... absolutely but no cheating please. Everyone needs to move on from that. If they do it...I honestly think il be done with the show.

Anyways sorry for the really long ramble. If you made it to the end thanks for your patience 😌

Thank you for this beautiful masterpiece, I pretty much agree with everything and need to put it out there for the world to see

#im obsessed with benvi and yall KNOW it #ben x devi #thanks for the response i was soooo entertained while reading it #never have i ever

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annaktheslightlygay · 3 years

Text

The One Where She Closes the Door (pt. 2)

What happens if Beca never worked up the courage to ask Chloe how she felt, in her doorway at 12am. What if Chloe came to her door instead?

Dread filled Beca’s veins.

“Can we have a conversation?” Chloe said, shutting Beca’s door.

“My suitemates aren’t home,” Beca said, in response.

“Okay,” Chloe said with a little laugh. “Is that supposed to be an innuendo?” Beca watched as she went over to the bed. Beca stayed where she was, suddenly feeling like this room wasn’t possibly big enough for the both of them.

“It’s supposed to be a fact.”

“I see.” Chloe heaved herself onto Beca’s bed, settling down on the end with the pillows as she waited for the younger girl to join her.

“I- sorry,” Beca began. “Let me change.” Chloe had made some comments before on how it was Beca’s room, and how she could change whenever she wanted. Beca always felt like she wanted to run out of the room though, away from Chloe’s prying eyes– not because she felt uncomfortable, but because she knew the older girl would look at her, and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that. Still, Beca stayed in the room, pulling open the drawer near Chloe’s overhanging feet to grab a t-shirt.

“That’s a cool font.”

“Thanks,” said Beca, slowly, showing all of her teeth. Chloe tried not to compliment her, she’d noticed. Mostly just not in public, maybe behind closed doors was a whole different story. Beca gave the other girl a smile, as she pulled the shirt over her head, not bothering to take off the one underneath.

When Beca had gotten dressed this morning, she hadn’t been thinking of changing in front of Chloe. But Chloe, like she always did, said that she needed help on a class project that she simply couldn’t do by herself. Which like– to be fair– she couldn’t. It’s not like the Bella could film herself; she needed an extra pair of hands, and Beca was happy (okay, willing) to provide.

“I’m nervous, now,” Beca said as she pulled her hair out of her collar. “What did I do?”

Chloe simply shrugged.

“You’re not talking...” Beca said, struggling to get on the bed. Her natural inclination was to sit near her (she loved it when the two of them would touch, just a bit) but something about this conversation felt different. Beca scooted to the end of the bed, moving her body a bit to make sure she wouldn’t fall off the end.

Chloe smiled, and looked away.

“Is this something I should be nervous for–”

“I’m nervous, Beca,” Chloe interrupted. Beca’s ears perked up with that. Primarily because Chloe called her Beca and something about the way she used her name was so intimate, so real, though Beca had a hard time placing it. And second– because Chloe was nervous. Chloe was never nervous. Okay, she was– and Beca knew her tells (twisting her hair up and down, walking around the room, shaking her leg off the side of the bed, like she was doing now.) But Chloe hardly ever admitted to it. In fact, Beca didn’t think she’d ever heard Chloe admit it aloud. It made Beca sweat.

Despite her racing heart, Beca kind of knew what was coming. Or rather, she’d hoped the conversation that they were about to have was the one she’d been trying to start for the past week.

“It’s just me, dude,” Beca said, resisting to place her hand on the other girl’s thigh. “Don’t worry about it,” she reiterated, following her words with what she hoped was an easy smile. She could imitate a calm person when she needed to– she just hoped Chloe didn’t see her wipe her palms on her sheets.

“I– I think we need to talk,” Chloe started.

Is that not what we’re doing right now?

“I,” Chloe looked at Beca, who smiled. “I really want to kiss you.” Beca looked down, lips turning into a smile. She could not imitate a chill-and-totally-cool person at that. Still, she looked up at Chloe as she felt her breathing increase.

Chloe looked at her, eyes flicking down to her lips.

“Ughhhh,” Chloe let out a groan, falling forward, nearly into Beca’s lap. Beca placed her hand on the other girl’s head, smiling and laughing too.

God, this was awkward. Somehow, Beca couldn’t bring herself to respond. She just smiled as the other girl sat up.

“I just... this is really hard. I thought when I became your RA.. there’s just a power dynamic and I... don’t ever want to pressure you...”

“I don’t really see that. I mean- I know you’re my RA and stuff but when we’re hanging out, I just don’t see that. I don’t really see that until we have to do those awkward meetings with my roommates even though you’ve been over here every night this week...”

“You know I tried to get you out of that.”

Beca let out a little laugh. “Really?”

“Yeah, tried to schedule it when I knew you had another meeting going on. And yet, you still showed up.”

Beca laughed shaking her head. She remembered canceling her prior meeting. Any excuse to see you.

“God, I was so nervous to be your RA. I just– I didn’t know how to handle it.”

I think you were nervous to see me again.

“I don’t think that changes things– for me, at least.”

“I just never want to pressure you, and no offense, but we met when you were a freshman...”

“I’m technically a junior now, if that makes any difference.”

Chloe shook her head, smiling.

“It makes me nervous, too. Because between the two of us...” Chloe stopped, trying to word her point without offending the other girl. “I really bring up our average of innocence. Like is that fair to say?”

Beca’s face flushed a bright red. “Yes,” she practically grumbled. It was a bit of a sore subject, she had to admit. It wasn’t her fault no girl actually wanted to date her, so she brought nearly no experience to the table. Is that the dealbreaker?

“I have to admit... when I thought about what I want in a relationship, and what I saw in you...” Beca took a quick glance to her photographs on the wall, wanting to look anywhere but Chloe’s eyes. “Some things did align.” Not everything. Like the fact that you smoke, or that you think stealing is okay, or that you have to have the most attention on you of anyone in a room. But some things - like your passion for music (and for anything really,) your ability to work through your emotions...

“You keep saying the word ‘relationship’.”

Well saying I want to fuck you just seems a little bit crude.

“I am open to things that aren’t a relationship... I just.. I don’t know what I don’t know, ya know? Like I won’t know if I like things until I try them.”

“But emotionally...”

“I trust you,” Beca bagan. “I... don’t really know what I want to say yet. But just know I have a very positive reaction to this,” Beca said, with an attempt at a shy smile. Meanwhile, her brain was screaming: ‘ARE WE HAVING SEX? DO YOU WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH ME? I WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU. I THINK! UNLESS IT’S AWKWARD?’

“I uh, I haven’t been in a relationship since I was 17,” was the only thing Beca could manage to say.

“Yeah, but that’s not that long. Like what– senior year, and then you had a semester here before everything went to shit...” Chloe stopped. “And now we’re here. You know, for all I talk about in high school, I only had seven relationships.”

Beca deadpanned.

“But I’ve only had two in college. Unless you count that Bernie Sanders girl,” Chloe added.

That was the girl you stopped seeing right after you met me. (Beca didn’t want to read into things.)

“Plus, global pandemic,” Beca added. Chloe gave her a nod.

“Plus that.”

“I... I also don’t want to take that away from you, though. Like... they,” Chloe gestured to Beca’s wall, indicating her would be suitemates, “can’t know.” Would this be an awkward time to say that when I was mad at you/ the universe at the beginning of the semester that I told them you were my ex or no? Because I did? But I’m *pretty* sure they don’t care.

Beca chuckled nervously.

“I don’t want to take away you not being able to talk about your first relationship with a woman.”

“That’s fair,” Beca said.

“And the girls can’t know....” Chloe stopped, her body wiggling against the pillows. “I, again, I don’t know. This seems unfair.”

“I don’t know either, if that helps.” Chloe gave her a look like ‘it doesn’t, but thanks.’

“You just... you put your hand on my thigh...” Chloe started, a cheeky smile.

Oh god, I’m going to die.

“Sorry, I’m not going to say that I’m not obvious. You know that I like you.” It was Beca’s smoothest response yet.

“We barely knew each other when we left. And I– at the time– Aubrey told me that she liked me, too.”

Suddenly, all the Snapchats from the summer that Chloe sent from Aubrey’s bed were threatening to make Beca retroactively jealous. If there was such a thing.

“But she’s dating Stacie...”

“Yes, now she is.”

“I- in the summer,” Beca started. “I didn’t know how to feel. Fat Amy was always telling me that you liked me, that you had a crush on me, all those things. But I didn’t know how much of it was true, and how much of it was just Fat Amy being Fat Amy, you know?”

Chloe nodded. “I tend to have crushes on a lot of people, Beca.”

That hurt a bit, but at least it was honest.

“You make this hard, though, like I don’t know what to do.” There was a beat of silence, and Beca used it to look around the room, once again resisting Chloe’s eyes.

“I don’t know what to say.” Beca wished she could say something bolder. But right now she was just trying to process. “Do you... is there something you want me to say? Like something you want to ask?” Beca asked.

Read: I have no idea what this means or what to do now or how to end this conversation but just like know I’m really attracted to you and would fuck you if asked.

“No, I just... yeah,” came the response.

Beca couldn’t meet Chloe’s eyes; she glanced over to her desk instead.

Chloe followed her gaze, a bit amused. “What are you looking at?”

“I– nothing. I just wanted to know what time it was.” (It was barely 10 pm, and Beca knew this. She just needed something else to say.)

“Here,” Chloe hopped of the bed, and handed the younger girl her phone.

“Ten ohhh-five.” Beca said, reading the time like an idiot.

The bubble they’d created was nearly broken.

Chloe must have left the room at some point (no doubt somewhat of an awkward goodbye, on Beca’s part. Because all she remembers from that point onward was reeling for the rest of the night. She remembers waking up at 2am, and texting Jesse that she was freaking out. Then waking up at five and working on her mixes for the next 3 hours before class.

Somehow, she doesn’t know where she landed with Chloe– so she sends her ill-written text at 3pm the next day.

#for those of you following #this is how it just went down with me and my RA #i am... so confused.#please give me advice #we have not talked about it since #bechloe fanfic #mine #the one where she comes to the door #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #pitch perfect 2 #pitch perfect 3 #pitch perfect au #pitch perfect fan fiction #anna kendrick #brittany snow #college fanfic

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dearest-bucky · 4 years

Text

Birthday wish (One Shot)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes doesn’t love his birthdays, but maybe he can learn to.

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: none, a fluffy ending as usual hihii

A/N: I was supposed to write and post this on Bucky’s birthday but couldn’t find it in me to do, so here it is now. I hope you like it! Feedback is truly appreciated! xx

Originally posted: March 19. 2020

Monday, 11:05 PM

It was late and they were all battered and exhausted, but despite that, they still had to swipe the place to find any new information on Hydra and then blow it up to hell.

What was supposed to be a simple recon mission, ended up being a real bloodbath. As always. When has there ever been such thing as a simple mission with the Avengers? Something would always come and fuck up the plans for an easy in and out job.

This time the fuck up came in the form of more than a dozen Hydra thugs charging at them with guns and knifes, resulting in the death of them of course. But despite the result and the fact that they won the battle, the Avengers didn’t come out without scratches or wounds themselves.

Steve had a busted lip, Bucky was having technical problems with his arm because of a bullet that was caught in it, Sam had a seemingly deep gash on his side that kept oozing blood out and Y/n was fuming because ‘she had just done her nails the other day and she broke one of them while fighting with those Hydra bastards’.

“Thirty seconds until explosion.” Steve informed over the comms and all of them made a run for the jet before they could get caught in the big boom.

As soon as they got in, y/n was on Sam’s side, helping him with his wound.

“C'mon Bird Man, I have get you out of this shirt if you don’t want to die of bleeding out.”

“If you wanted to see me naked all you had to do was ask sweetheart.” Despite the fact that his skin was paler than ever before and he was losing all energy, Sam still couldn’t give up him sense of humor.

Bucky who was sitting just a few inches away, chuckled at his words but said nothing anyway.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully and pressed on his gash with an alcohol pad a little more than necessary, making Sam wince in pain. Then she continued to clean his wound and did her best to stop the bleeding until they got to the compound. She was no doctor after all, and every specific procedure would have to wait for a real specialist of medicine.

Tuesday, March 10 3:34 AM

After arriving at the compound and literally taking Sam with force to the medical bay, Y/n could finally get to her own room and get a well deserved shower. The mission had taken a toll on her, same as on everybody else, but to be fair, those super soldiers had it easier when it came to fighting.

Once she got in the shower and let the hot water wash down all the dirt and blood off of her, she felt herself immediately relax. It was all she needed and she could live there forever. However, after another 10 minutes of thoroughly washing herself she turned the water off and wrapped a big fluffy towel around her body.

Next thing in the list: sleep.

She patted her body dry with the towel and changed into a pair of clean pajama, falling in her bed like the dead, immediately shutting her mind out and letting sleep take her away.

She was soundly sleeping when her door silently opened and somebody got in her room with small, quiet steps.

“Doll, you awake?” Nothing more than a whispered voice breaking the silence of the night, and when the only answer he got was her heavy breathing, he turned around without so much as a noise and left, just as he had come.

Y/n was still soundly sleeping.

5:00 AM

Bucky couldn’t sleep. No matter how tired he was. No matter how much he wanted to close his eyes and get a couple of much needed hours of sleep. He couldn’t close his eyes. He couldn’t shut his mind.

Today was his birthday. Not that he cared that much about it. He had had more birthdays than he cares to count anymore, but there was something about the date that made him restless.

He was currently in his room, half laying in his bed, a few old photos scattered carelessly on his blanket. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of them.

One of his mother with a little baby on her arms, his baby sister Rebecca. A couple more of his parents, one of his sister alone. Another of him, in his army uniform, a boyish smirk plastered on his face.

“Young fool.” He thought to himself.

All those pictures were some kind of present from Steve when he first got back from Wakanda. He said they would help him with his recovery, and of course everyone should have at least a couple of photos of their family.

After all, they were the only thing he had left from his family. And Bucky really held on to those photographs.

With most of his memories back, he remembers one of his early birthdays. He was turning 20, probably, and he and Steve had gone to this dance club in Manhattan.

He had literally begged Steve to go with him there just to dance with some pretty dames he couldn’t remember their names anymore. And that was not because of the brainwashing.

Now he hated his birthdays. Just another day to remind him he shouldn’t be alive now, in this year. Another reminder of all the things he had been through in his long, miserable life.

He let out a long sigh and turned to lay on his side, placing the photos carefully on his nightstand.

10:30 AM

The kitchen was buzzing with lively chatter, however not everyone was feeling their brightest today.

With most of the team having a day off, it was natural they wanted to spend it relaxing at home, so they were all enjoying their late breakfast and talking with each other about everything and more.

Y/n made her way to the coffee machine for the second time that morning and Natasha chuckled at her state; eyes puffy from tiredness, as if she hadn’t slept a wink, hair messy, she didn’t care enough to look at least presentable today.

“Aren’t you a treat for the eyes?” She teased and y/n just grunted in response, chugging down a large sip of her coffee.

Only after she had drank the second mug, she rubbed her face with her hands and tried to pat down the messy hair by combing it with her fingers.

She turned to look around the room, finding Natasha and Wanda sitting near her talking about God knows what, she wasn’t paying attention to any of it.

Steve was standing a few feet away, reading a newspaper like a grandpa. No matter how much anybody tried to convince him to read the news online, he insisted that actually touching the newspaper was quite a feeling. Weird old man.

Bruce and Tony were just next to Steve talking about their next science project, apparently, and Vision was creepily floating on Tony’s left side, listening intently to what they were saying.

Just as she averted her eyes to look for somebody else, Sam entered the kitchen looking so much better than last night, a bright smile adorning his silly handsome face.

“Good morning everyone.” He greeted cheerfully and all the people in the room greeted him back with the same enthusiasm.

Steve was the first to fold the newspaper he was reading and got up from his seat, patting Sam on the shoulder and asking him if he was doing okay.

When they both sat down again Y/n went to Sam with a plate of pancakes Wanda had made earlier and a cup of hot coffee, offering it to him.

His eyes shone bright and he stretched his arms out to give her a hug. “You’re an angel.” He said only for her to hear and she grinned in response.

“Do you know where Bucky is?” Y/n then asked when she sat down next to both men. “Is he still sleeping?”

Steve shifted in his seat uncomfortably and smiled sweetly her way, trying to not make his best friend look weird in y/n’s eyes.

“No, he actually got up about an hour ago and he left the compound. Said he had some work to do.”

Y/n only nodded her head in understanding.

She knew today was Bucky’s birthday and she knew how much he hated it, just like he hated making a big deal out of it, like celebrating or throwing a party. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t even wish him “Happy birthday”. However if he was out of the compound all day there was no way for her to do that either.

If there was one thing y/n knew though, was that she wasn’t going to let this go. No matter how much Bucky tried to disappear on his birthday as a way to avoid the wishes and presents and whatnot, y/n was a really stubborn person, so she wouldn’t let him off the hook easily this time.

Last year she had made him a cake and when all the team were having dinner together she brought the cake out singing “happy birthday” to Bucky. What she didn’t expect though, was for him to get upset with her and storm out of the room.

When she went after him to ask what was wrong he yelled at her saying that 'She didn’t have to do anything for him. They were not even friends so why would she care about his birthday. He didn’t even care about his own birthday!!’

But that was last year though. Last year Y/n was new to the team and Bucky was right, they weren’t even friends. They were barely teammates at that point.

This year however, things were different.

With each passing day after that 'dreadful one’, as y/n jokingly calls it now, they have actually created a special bond with each other, relying on each other a little more than they both would care to admit. It was a unusual connection, something neither of them could name. Something between more than friends but less than lovers. Something between denial and acceptance of feelings. Feelings they still hadn’t labelled.

9:15 PM

Bucky hadn’t returned to the compound the whole day. She had been waiting for him to come back sometime, but after waiting around for most of the day, she decided to stop sulking around in her room waiting for Friday to let her know when he was back.

With a newfound purpose she made her way to the kitchen and got out everything she needed from the cupboards to make little cupcakes. Every flavor she could think of; chocolate and peanut butter, vanilla, chocolate filling, sprinkles strawberry, red velvet.

After whole hours of mixing and baking she put them all in a serving tray, putting them on the counter for anyone who would pass by the kitchen to see and eat.

All but one. She picked a chocolate one and a small birthday candle and headed to Bucky’s room. She knew he wasn’t back yet, but she figured she could wait for him there.

After more than half an hour waiting and still no sign of Bucky, y/n was starting to feel sleepy.

She glanced at the small clock on his nightstand, bright red numbers shining 11:54 PM on the screen.

Figuring it was only 6 more minutes until his birthday would be over, she just lit the candle and placed the cupcake on the nightstand as well, the candle slowly burning. She decided to lay down on his bed to rest her eyes for a moment before he would come back.

She knew he was about to come back. With the day finally being over and everything.

It was strange how well she knew him. But then again, they had spent the best of last year’s together, most of the time attached to the hip and during this whole time they had learned almost everything about each other.

With thoughts of him in mind she fell asleep slowly, then all at once.

11:57 PM

Bucky sighed when he arrived at the compound. He had been all day out wandering around New York, mostly in Brooklyn, comparing new stores with the old ones, alleys, streets, bars, everything.

He opened the door to his room quietly, force of habit really, this whole having to always be quiet thing. But he also didn’t want to make too much noise that could wake any of the guys up, especially Steve whose room was next to his.

Just as he got inside his room, his eyes fell on the body that was curled on his bed, sleeping soundly. Then to the cupcake on the nightstand, with the candle almost entirely melted, but still lighting. His mind connected the dots easily and he let out a breath he didn’t know was holding.

He shuffled awkwardly around the room until he decided to wake y/n up, going to the bed, half hovering over her.

“Y/n…” He shook her arm slightly, but it was enough for her to wake up.

“Bucky.” She smiled at him sweetly, one of her smiles that was always directed to him and he knew that well.

Her eyes quickly averted to the cupcake beside her and she got herself up, now sitting on the bed and quickly took the small dessert in her hands. The clock was showing the time 11:59 PM.

“Quick, blow it!” The candle was half out, just a small flame hanging in there, like a last breath of life.

Upon seeing the hopeful glint in her eyes, he blew the candle out without a second thought and she smiled at him again.

“Happy Birthday Bucky!” Her voice was barely a whisper but he heard it clear.

Not wanting to break her heart with his grumpiness he smiled back and thanked her.

“Did you make a wish?”

He nodded his head softly.

He had made his wish way before that moment. Actually, since the moment he saw her enter the compound after Nick Fury when she was just a new recruit. Then he had made his wish when she made a birthday cake for him in his last birthday. And he had made his wish yesterday before they went on that mission, and after they came back.

He had been making wishes every day since the day he met her. And it was always the same.

With big eyes she was looking at his face, expectantly, waiting for him to tell her what he wished for.

Instead he showed her.

Putting the cupcake back on the nightstand he took her hands in his and closed the distance between them, kissing her softly. He lightly swept his tongue between her lips, pressing his warm, soft lips to hers.

She sighed against his mouth and he felt his heart flutter in his chest. Maybe he could learn to love his birthday again.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagines

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florbelles · 3 years

Note

General for Lyra and John please 💜

thank you lovely!! also asked by my loves @consumedkings and @strafethesesinners xx

GENERAL

i. who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

um, god did? ask the voice :/

this essentially comes down to technicalities; theoretically it’s john who pursues her in the most tangible sense, approaching her after the first sermon she attends and inviting her up to the compound ( an invitation she refuses ), and later up to the ranch ( somewhat forcefully via shaggy showing up at her doorstep ) — none of those instances were intended to initiate a romantic relationship, as his interest was in recruiting her into the project and bringing her in for joseph to speak to her ( and later to confront her about her history and her intentions in coming to hope county, as well as the potential threat she posed ).

he was correct in his conclusions about her aforementioned intents, however, meaning that lyra — though she cast off her plans immediately upon actually hearing joseph speak and gaining insight into the project — had in fact arrived with the intent of using the project and john by proxy, via seducing him, if necessary. ultimately, seduction ( a method both were willing to resort to ) and manipulation ( a method they both default to ) weren’t necessary, and their relationship developed with the same intent on both sides at the same rate.

lyra did, however, initiate their physical relationship — again, on a technicality, not an objective — so we may tilt it to her side, even if john took the greater initiative in the circumstances that lead them to that point.

ii. did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

they did not, unless one is counting the aforementioned evening at the ranch ( what’s more romantic than being confronted with your history as the most prolific female serial killer in the history of the united states? ). the closest thing they have to a courting phase before they’re essentially living together ( what, she isn’t getting that water pressure anywhere else in the valley ) is in the first weeks while they see each other at sermons and services and later in the evenings, ostensibly for her to give intel on rumors of outside interference — the film crew’s anticipated arrival and her promise to join the project after proving her good faith and dedication upfront deflect the urgency from her personally — and in reality is the beginning of their romantic and sexual involvement.

all jests aside, they do both believe they’re divinely intended and that they were always meant to be brought to the place they find themselves, and that belief combined with their intense and obsessive personalities ensured about a quick escalation in their attachment.

iii. what was their first kiss like?

unfortunate, impulsive and extremely unsexy. her neck was still bleeding from where she’d begun to slice her own throat, john was trying to put pressure on it and twist the knife out of her hand, his nose started bleeding from the collision force when she kissed him, they were caught up and she was on top of him so they started having sex but it was just hurting both of them more than anything. it ended when she butted him in the forehead halfway through, hopped off, started borderline hyperventilating and repeating “i can’t, i’m sorry, i can’t, i’m so sorry,” left him in great confusion and physical pain on the floor and sprinted away. shaggy found him crawling around on the ground cursing and looking for her knife.

they’ve both had much worse! 3.5/10.

iv. were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

definitely not physically speaking, but probably the first ( and canonically only ) great love of each other’s lives, since emotional intimacy isn’t something either of them have historically afforded ( at least in the context of both full awareness and acceptance of what both parties are loving; john is the first person in the world to know exactly who she is and what she’s done, with the possible exception of joseph if you leave out specifics ). on a more technical note, but relatedly, it’s their first marriage.

v. what’s their height difference? age difference?

just under six inches ( ~15 cm ) in bare feet, and just about six years as far as anyone can attest ( the record does not state how many years john seed has been 32, c. 2018 ).

vi. what’s their relationship with each other’s families?

neither of them have any relationship with lyra’s family — she left at sixteen and was disinherited within the year. lyra is a member of the seed family both via her marriage and outside of it; she would have joined the project with or without john. she’s closest to her sister-in-law, faith, but jacob is her mentor and training overseer; she has less personal closeness with joseph purely by virtue of their difference in station, but it’s a positive relationship — she believes him, and he believes in what she is; in that respect, they understand each other in a way unique to them, but that’s painful knowledge. while her closeness with his siblings is mostly a good thing in the context of their relationship, it can also be a mild source of contention when he feels she is valued or adulated in ways that he is not, but that has more to do with his fears about how they perceive him than how she feels about them or how they view her.

mostly, though, their family is the project, and their shared family is enormously important to both of them.

vii. who takes the lead in social situations?

while john would like to say this could be either of them — and it could be, in practice — lyra is more extroverted and affable in a way that genuinely puts others at ease ( generally speaking ). john is more likely to make everyone uncomfortable. remember that time he just walked up to mary may’s truck and asked if she was scared? ugh his interpersonal skills, his mind,

viii. who gets jealousy more easily?

lyra legitimately does not experience jealousy in this capacity at all, so the answer is john, but any petty jealousy that exists is generally outside of the romantic sphere and more regarding his insecurities in the familial realm, particularly with joseph; one of the worst fights they ever have is immediately after the reaping, regarding lyra’s apparent trust in everyone else in the family to have things handled but absolute fury that he interfered after she’d been taken hostage by bombing the bridge — it’s because joseph has seen him die, never her, a source of anxiety that almost cripples her every second of every day, but for him it triggers the fear that the others consider him weak or incompetent, his wife included, and jealousy of the easy praise and confidence seemingly afforded to everyone else by everyone else.

ix. who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

both of them. do not go near them, ever. ever, but especially before or after sermons or seminars. shaggy just wishes they whispered more at home.

#answered #x: from eden #oc: lyra fairbanks

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ikeromantic · 4 years

Text

Tease

Ikevamp Leonardo fanfic, occurs after Ch. 10 but before the midpoint in Ch. 11 of the main route. Approx 1500 words.

This is the smutty version of Little Tease. NSFW!

First: That First Night

Previous: A Little Heat

“So . . . the internet.” Leonardo’s compagna sighed. “I don’t know how else to explain it to you. It’s - it’s like a book. One where there’s an answer for every question but sometimes the answer isn’t true. Or complete. And it’s also a place you can talk to people. And look at pictures. And watch movies.”

“So all of these things live in that little glass case in your purse?” Leo waited intently on his compagna’s reply. She was more willing to give these answers than Sebas. The butler kept tossing out silly concerns like ‘paradox’ and ‘disruptions to the timeline’. Nonsense. It wasn’t as if Leonardo planned to share this knowledge.

She chewed on her lip, thinking about it before replying. “Sort of? It’s more like, this phone -” she took out the smart phone and held it in front of him, “just shows the page. Like a screen in the movie theater. But the picture - the information - comes from someplace else.”

Leonardo nodded. “That makes sense, but then how is it projected when you move that thing around all the time? And what are all those shiny bits inside?” He remembered vividly what the ‘phone’ looked like when taken apart. Sebastian was not terribly pleased about that experiment, not even after Leo put it back together for him.

“That’s more like, uhm, like radios? Those exist now right? The signals go through the air and the phone receives them.”

“Radios?” Leonardo looked at her expectantly. This was another new thing. Something Sebas, that tight-lipped capra hadn’t mentioned.

His compagna sighed. “I don’t think I should be telling you about all this. It will ruin the surprise!”

“Cara, please. It will be years and years before these things come to pass. And you know all about them now. It is only fair - I answer your one question a day.”

“Barely,” she muttered. Then shrugged and sat back in the big leather chair. “I’m not really good with technical stuff, Leonardo. I can’t really explain how it all works. You could probably just ask Comte to bring back some books or something, next time he uses the door.”

“I could,” he agreed. “But I want to hear you tell me about it first.” Leo grinned from where he sat on the floor. He grabbed her little stocking-clad foot and began to rub circles on her sole. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

She blushed prettily and nodded. “Mmm- mmhmm. Yes.”

The response was just breathy enough to make him feel his own little surge of arousal. But no. No. He was only teasing her - not himself - for both their sake. “Then keep talking or -” he let go of her foot.

His compagna huffed as if she might argue. But after a moment of her internal battle, she held her foot back out to him. “Alright. Where was I? Radio?”

“Yes, what is that?” Leonardo began stroking her calf this time. Kneading the tense muscles in her leg.

“Radio is . . . sounds? I guess sounds that get sent through the air to receivers. Like this phone only, not as complex.”

Leo nodded. “That is interesting. But you can’t just hear these sounds? Unless you have a receiver?” He let his hands roam a little higher, but his cara was too involved in her answer to notice when he passed her knee.

“Right! The sounds are there- sound waves, but for radios, it’s radio waves. You have to have a special device to receive them and then put them into a form you can hear with your ear.”

“So this internet, it is like that - invisible waves - of many kinds, not just sound. And it goes to these . . . phones?” Her thighs were like silk, he thought. Soft. Firm. He caught a glimpse of her panties from where he sat. Dainty pink. He didn’t hear her answer his question. He couldn’t stop thinking about what lay under them, and how very close he was.

“Then there are websites. Those are like chapters, if you think of the internet like a giant -” She stopped, inhaling sharply.

Leonardo realized his hands, clearly acting with a mind of their own, had grazed the lace edge of her panties.

“W-what are you doing?”

He grinned at her, a slow, warm smile, honey-gold heat. “Giving you a massage. As I said. If you keep talking.” He let his fingers slip under the fabric, brushing lightly over her mound. Was this still teasing? Yes . . . her wide eyes and the blush creeping up her cheeks was proof.

“Ah . . . I, I’m not sure I can . . . with you . . .”

He stopped moving his hand, and raised an eyebrow. “I can stop, cara. If that’s what you want?”

She leaned her head back against the chair and shut her eyes. “What I want . .”

Leonardo couldn’t help but slide his finger slowly into her downy cleft. It wasn’t a fair tactic, but then, what was fair in love or lust?

“Y-yes - I want - yes,” she moaned.

That was all the encouragement Leo needed. “Then keep talking, cara mia. Let me hear your sweet voice.”

He meant sighs or moans, even screams of pleasure, but she took him for his original threat.

“Right. Websites. Like books. No! No, like chapters. If the internet is -” Her toes curled as he began to strum her gently, as if she were a harp and he the player. She was hot to the touch, and already slick.

“Mmmm. Please, continue.” Leo’s smile was wicked, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to tease her. And more than tease. He found the swollen, little pearl with his fingertips, barely touching.

“Ah, oh-books!” Her voice rose as she did her best to continue without regard to his touch. “So, you can- can look up books on - on anything. Lots of, I mean web -”

Leonardo’s other hand slid her panties to the side. “On anything, yes? You mentioned that.” He stroked her slowly at first. As if tuning a guitar or a harp - rhythmic, testing for the right sound.

“Oh god,” she leaned back, her thighs straining to open wider against the arms of the chair.

Ever helpful, Leo cupped her legs with his free hand and set them on top the sides. He could smell her arousal, and with her spread like this, he could see it too. Though he had not intended to, he leaned forward to taste. His tongue slid easily into her, and she clenched around the sudden intrusion.

The lecture was clearly done. His cara mia moaned, holding a hand over her mouth to silence her pleasure.

It only enticed Leo to go deeper, to seek more. He buried himself between her legs, his hands on her thighs. She was like liquor, he thought. Rich, and he was drunk on her. He wanted more. The sound of her pulse was wild in his ears as he moved from her core to suckle that hard, sweet pearl. He let go of one of her legs to slide wet fingers into her, still slow, refusing to hurry this moment.

“L-leo, I - ah!” Whatever she was going to say was lost as she closed her lips to hold in another moan. It escaped with ragged breath. “F-faster, please. Oh, I - I can’t . . .” Her hands grasped his hair, needy, pushing.

He laughed, breathing against her clit. “Don’t rush, cara. Let me enjoy this. And . . . don’t stop your voice. I told you, if I can’t hear you . . . I’ll stop.” The empty threat. He couldn’t stop now, unless she told him to. And her rocking hips begged the opposite.

Leonardo pressed into her with his long, artist’s fingers. His lips played lightly against her aroused nub, teasing.

His compagna gave him what he asked for. A moan of pure need, the edge of frustration.

It was in him to tease her like this for hours, to keep her at the edge of fulfillment until she thought she would go mad and then . . . but no. This was only teasing. Only play. He would not claim her body for his own.

Leonardo began to speed his thrusting fingers, settling into a fast rhythm with his lips and tongue. It took only a moment more before she bucked beneath him. Her legs closed around his head, locking him against her. Not that he minded. He licked her sweet juices as she came, her soft skin a prison he did not seek release from.

She finally let him go. Her breath was still too fast, and her cheeks were flushed.

He sat back, grinning like a cat in cream.

“I - I can’t believe you.” Her voice was low and raw. She stood and shook out her skirt, straightening her stockings. “I was supposed to - to just tell you about internet.”

“And you did.” Leonardo licked his fingers, unable to help himself. “You can always tell me more tomorrow.”

She gave him a wide-eyed look. Half accusation, half hopeful. The expression made him nervous. Surely, she knew this was all fun. Just play between two adults thrust together for a brief time. That was all it was to him. He ignored the twinge in his heart, the sudden weight on his chest at the thought.

“Maybe,” his cara said at last. “But . . . no more massages. I - I don’t think I can . . .” She looked almost sad.

Leo raised a hand to her, but she walked past him and out of the library. He felt a sudden surge of guilt. This was why, he thought, I should not be alone with her. I cannot tell myself no. Comte should have given this task to another.

Next: For the Best

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp leonardo #leonardo da vinci #otome #otome boys #fanfic #fanfiction #smut

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Six: Sensory Integration 2

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: It’s a fine night for a walk by the water with a handsome vet holding your hand. I think that says it all.

Behind on your sessions? Want more from the author? Click Me

Word Count: Almost 1.9k (a bit shorter, hopefully y’all don’t mind by the end!)

Warnings: Basically still fluff, but also some saucy morsels near the end…not full on smut, though, so don’t get too excited. We aren’t there yet, my little lovelies. Soon, though…soon.

Author’s Note: As I said before, this date totally got away from me, nearing a whopping 6k in total. Thanks again for all the love. And in other news, I told a couple of my PT friends about this story, and one of them agreed to be my official technical consultant on the project for future chapters and even if I wanna flesh it out, modify it to include strictly “original” characters, and eventually take it to a publisher! I sent what I’ve done so far to her just before I started drafting this post, so hopefully she’ll have good insight for me! She said it was about time someone wrote a story like that! Lol! (She reads a lot, so I guess people really don’t think of PTs as the heroines of love stories. Sad, really! Most of the ones I know are lovely and loving people!) The other was just instantly excited and can’t wait to read it.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although...their lackadaisical notification system might...sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

The lake was fairly near her clinic, not two blocks away. He wasn't wrong about her feeling up to a walk when the time came. She was looking forward to the fresh night air near the lake. It was a deep-seated part of who she was to love the water.

He'd pulled into the small, empty gravel lot at the head of the paved walking trail. It was well dark since it had just turned 10:00, and the moonlight danced off the water, calm, but with a faint shimmer from the light breeze. The stars danced, winking at them as if they knew the romance that surged between the couple was burgeoning right here below them.

"Now, last time I walked this trail, I'll warn you…I got approached by a gang. And they were…pretty vicious. I had to resort to some guerilla tactics that I'm not too proud of to fend 'em off."

"Oh no!" she wasn't aware of any gang crime in their fairly peaceful city! "What kind of gang?"

"A goose gang." He looked at her gravely. Before they both burst out laughing in hysterics.

"I thought you were serious!" she wiped tears carefully from her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I was! They are stupid territorial! I had several of them tryin'a bite at my legs at once. It was quite the ordeal, I assure you!" he said, serious, but still laughing.

"Well, you'll save me if the Ya-Gooz-ah descend on us tonight, wont you?" she teased, clutching at his arm in mock fright at the thought of a band of Yakuza Geese being an actual thing, but thinking it was a great way to keep him touching her.

"As long as you stay real close to me, sunshine. I'll protect you from the devil himself." He kissed her on the top of the head, sealing the promise and warming her from the point of contact all the way to her toes.

As they traipsed along the pavement path, they talked about everything and nothing, the gentle night wind a whisper against their skin, which had been made slightly dewy from the walk and the humidity. They had made two laps around the small body of water when they came back around to one of several benches placed at intervals on the trail running its perimeter. Without breaking their conversation, she pointed to the nearest one, indicating her desire to sit, which he understood and lead them there.

“See, the problem I have with sports at that level, especially football is the harm I’ve witnessed it do to a kid’s body. We’ve treated athletes in high school and as early as 7th and 8th grade that the coaches are completely obsessed with getting them out on the field or court again. These kids are taking more impact than their bodies are ready for. They can’t miss a game, or even practice for therapy even if they’re just riding pine. And the parents are so laser focused on that potential college scholarship for that sport that they can’t see that if their child doesn’t get better, no scout is gonna want to dole out a free ride. Not to a broken-down athlete. Did you feel that kind of pressure when you were playing football? Because I don’t remember it at my school.” She went off a on bit of a tangent because she’d just been told by Heather before she left that her torn meniscus, Jason couldn’t get in for several weeks because of his practice and game schedule limiting his availability.

“I mean, I felt pressure, I guess, but not outside of practice or the games. I’d hurt my knee my junior year early, same one we been workin’ on, and they just had me sit out a few weeks and work with a PT, but I don’t remember it being a problem to miss out on anything related to football if it was because of my health.” He sat down next to her on the fiberglass bench, which was molded to have the look of fine blonde wood, and put his arm around her shoulder. No pretense of the reach, no awkwardly sitting for a while beforehand, just continuing to touch her as he had been their whole walk.

She leaned into his shoulder, comfortably, as if they’d done this a thousand times and this wasn’t their first date. And continued their discussion.

“What has gotten into people these days? It’s like they’re not satisfied with anything. Nothing is ever enough for a single person on this good earth!” She sighed, frustrated by the neediness of people that seemed to come with her own job and projecting that on to the world…not that there wasn’t at least a measure of truth in it.

“Personally speaking, I think you’re wrong.”

“You don’t think that the world is full of dissatisfied Karens?” She laughed.

“Oh I do. But it’s not every person. You’re sitting next to one very content man right here.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” He confirmed.

“Was it the steak, or the lobster mac?” She’d be fantasizing about them both until the next time they went there. Yeah, she was already thinking about “next time” and “they.” She was in trouble.

“Not to knock either, but I’m a hun’ert percent sure it was the company.” He pressed a kiss to her temple.

She smiled, nuzzling into him, feeling the downy softness of his shirt again and smelling his intoxicating cologne. She suddenly remembered a promise from their session.

“Oh, hey. I was gonna have a response for you…to your 'question' from earlier.” She said, mischief burning in her eyes. She kneeled up on the bench and turned his face to hers, brushing a hand against his impossibly soft beard before descending slowly in for a kiss.

It started sweet, a few languid, full pecks, then she parted her lips barely enough for her tongue to venture out to explore his full mouth. They were met after several attempts with a reciprocal openness from him. She dared, then to search him with her tongue. It was simply browsing now. Feeling no rush to complete its quest. Only a sense of the need for due diligence. She was surprised at the flavor she'd encountered. She hadn't seen him pop a mint, and she hadn't left his side all evening. He was sly. It was a sweet and strong taste. Wintergreen on steroids, with the mildest hint of vanilla. She wanted more. Of the flavor. Of him.

She let her tongue find his, knowing what would happen, somehow, even though they had never kissed like this before. Never when it wasn't rushed and needing to be…PG. Here in the dark of night, with no one but the celestial bodies as witnesses, they didn't have to worry about her job, or the public. The judgement of the outsider's gaze.

She knew, by instinct alone, that this would spark him into more than latent participation. And that's exactly why she did it. As previously stated, she was definitely an intentional beast when the occasion called and mood struck.

He did as she'd expected, his own tongue waking, beginning a playful dance with hers, exploring her mouth with more urgency and desire, pulling a ragged gasp from her lungs. She broke away to give some attention to his neck. She held him by the base of his head, thumb playfully brushing into his thick facial hair. A breathy moan that sounded very much like her name escaped his lips. This was the reaction she had been dying to get from him for so long. A surrendering bliss that only came from this kind of personal, intimate, and one-one connection. She'd gotten hints of it when she'd helped him stretch, when she heard those stifled groans he felt at the good hurt she brought him with her expert touch.

She bit his earlobe, and sealed her fate. He growled and pulled her up to his lap in an immodest straddle. Not that she cared in the empty dark. He seemed to need her lips back on his, desperate to find a purchase that would never present itself. The paradox of a kiss.

His hands roved over the back of her from neck to behind, very much favoring the latter. It was an odd sensation. Most of her experience with ass-grabbing had been less than pleasant. Either dirty old men had touched her without consent, or boyfriends had done essentially the same thing as a show of their dominance over her, also without her strictest consent. The way Sy held her was tender, exploratory, and…she couldn't help but think the word loving. "Love" wasn't a word they were ready to even bring up. But she thought he was showing it in his feather touch and hungry kiss.

The breeze was cool, and felt extra cold where she seemed to be warmest. Her position had her…very exposed to the elements, covered only by the fine layers of her underwear at some angles. She was suddenly very aware that they were on a precipice here. If they carried on much longer like this, she wasn't going to want to stop. She already didn't. And she was just out of practice enough to be unsure of where her point of no return was. Dammit. She broke away, in agony from it.

"Sy, I…I think …you should take me back." she stuttered.

"Okay." he pulled her back in for another kiss, pretending to misinterpret,which she indulged a moment but quickly escaped.

"No, sweetie." she chuckled. "You know what I mean."

"Or…I could bring you home with me." It was only a suggestion, but there was a plea in his eyes that pulled at her guts. He wanted her. And she wanted him. With every single cell in her body, she wanted every singe cell of his. But she truly felt that taking things slowly was the best option given the complexities of their situation.

"You don't know how badly I want to accept that invite, Sy." she rested her forehead on his. They were both breathless.

"It's just two little letters, sunshine. O. K. Easy as granny's peach pie."

"I'm terrible at pie crust." they laughed.

"Let's go." he said, helping her off his lap, and preparing to stand, but sitting back down immediately.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned. "Is it the knee? Did I hurt it?" she was already mad at herself, and at him a bit, if this indiscretion had caused him a setback…how ironic it would be!

"Nope, knee's great. Dandy."

"Did you get lightheaded?"

"No, but uhh…it's definitely SOME sort of blood flow issue. Gonna need a minute." he explained without explaining with a sheepish expression on his face…it hit her like a speeding bus.

"Ope." she looked to his lap without thinking, and immediately averted to the water again, as she sat beside him, hands clasped over the seat of the bench. His hand found hers, and covered it, asking to hold it, and getting its way.

"I had…the best time tonight, Shane." he told her, staring at the opposite bank where the maple, oak, and sycamore trees swayed to the tune of the gentle night's breeze.

"So did I, Sy."

"You free tomorrow?" he asked, hopefully.

"You tell me!" she replied…hopefully.

Up Next: Chapter Seven: Non-Productive Time

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #sigh for sy #is that a new tag i started? idk maybe...lets use it. teehee!

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bittybattybunny · 3 years

Note

Please lemme read Cafe Latte!

Order up!!!

Alright so here’s what I had written for this before I dropped the project to focus on TLC and then swapped to the Mermaid Plot instead for Hattie’s parents

I also included the Synop I originally wrote when it was gonna be posted on Ao3 if I finished it

So A Time Traveler, her older inter-dimensional Demon brother, and a lawyer walk into a Cafe---

Arulius Law was a tired law student trying his best to manage school work and his Controlling girlfriend Vanessa. His life changed when a girl's dog ran into him in the park! Meeting that same girl again when walking home, he got dragged through a time rift and the two are trying to fix the matter together!

“Damnit, Damion! HEEL!” The young woman shouted as she ran after the great dane.

The poor young man who sat below the tree looked up a moment too late as he was barreled into by the slobbering pooch. He coughed as the dog placed its tongue all over him, covering him in drool. He wiped his face as the dog was abruptly pulled off of him by the very angry looking girl.

“Bad Dog!” She chided, clicking the chain around his neck, “Honestly I shift hands for five seconds to answer my phone and you book it!” she sighed, holding a hand to the young man while tightly holding the dog’s leash in the other, “Sorry About that Sir.”

He took her hand, standing upright and dusting off. She blinked in shock as he stood above her, not having expected him to be so tall.

“It’s fine. He spoke in a deep voice, unbefitting of his thin frame, “I chose a bad spot to study!” he laughed it off, cackling.

She began to laugh with him, placing her hand on her hip, “Still, I should have had a better grip on him. Sorry about it.”

“No one but the bacteria on my face got hurt, so I don’t see any need to apologize.” he cracked his back stretching, “I needed to get up for class anyway.” he checked his watch, “I have a lecture in about 20 minutes. Perfect time to get a coffee.”

“How About I treat you?” She offered, “Since he did take your kisses.” She snickered a bit. She brushed a loose strand of black hair behind her ear.

He thought about it for a moment. Vanessa wouldn’t mind, right? It was just a coffee as an apology?

He sighed, “yeah sure.” he grinned, “Anything for bean water.”

“Rad.” She smiled, sharp teeth peeking when she did, “Lead the way!” She laughed.

He grabbed his backpack from the grass, shoving his open books into it and began to walk towards the west of the park, “There’s a nice cafe this way owned by a lovely screaming couple. Dead bird Cafe.” he explained as they walked, “one of the owners is this older gentleman who’s always screaming, but he makes the best dark roast ever.” he grinned.

“Dead bird Cafe,” she repeated thinking about it. She snickered, “So that’s how it is.” She giggled brushing her thick hair behind her ear only to have it bush back. She groaned, “I need a haircut.”

“I feel you on that.” He laughed loudly, brushing his own back, “My girlfriend likes my hair long though so I leave it.” he sighed, “Long curly hair on a legal defendant doesn’t look good. I feel I look so unkempt.”

“If you want unkempt try having these cowlicks!” she chuckled as she ran a finger through the shorter parts of her hair, “At least yours looks on length! I can’t get mine to grow more than a weird mullet!” She sighed heavily, the dog she was walking barking his two cents. The two laughed as they made it to the western disco cafe.

She paused outside, trying to withhold a laugh, “What is this decor?!” She was holding her stomach as she laughed, bright blue eyes watering.

“Yes it…. It is a little. Different.” he admitted opening the door, “Let me see if your dog can come in.” He headed inside, “Conrad?” he asked as he walked in, “DJ?”

“Aye if it ain't the bean pole! What canne aye getcha today?” the golden-haired man asked as he was wiping out a cup. He sat behind the counter, looking out the door. The young woman was busy talking on her phone, seeming visibly upset over something. “Who’s the lassie? You finally cut it off with Vanessa?”

He shook his head, “No, NO! Perish the thought Conrad!” he chuckled, “Her dog tackled me in the park, she offered to pay for my coffee as an apology, but we can’t just tie a great dane who got loose once outside. I couldn’t recall if you’re pet friendly.”

He frowned, “Well technically we’re nawt. But we only opened a lil bit ago so no one is here yet, so.” He shrugged, “As the owner I say fine.” He laughed, “You can go tell her, Arulius.”

“Thanks!” he waved heading to the door, “He said it’s okay.” He tilted his head as she was frowning, creasing her brow heavily, “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” She blinked, snapping back, “Oh yeah I’m fine! My brother was just being really annoying!” she admitted, “Apparently he found something I have to go look at when he gets out of class.” She dropped her shoulders defeated, “Today was MEANT to be a relaxing day.”

“I get you.” he patted the top of her head. His eyes lit up surprised, “Your hair is very soft!” He stated. He had it to be coarser.

She turned a bit red, “O-Oi!” She pushed past through the coffee shop door, “It’s because I just dyed it! The conditioner makes it softer!” she flushed bright red, “G-Get your bean water!” She pointed to the menu looking it over.

He followed her back inside with a very loud laugh. She jolted as he cackled, her grip tightening on the dog. Her eyes were wide as she thought about it and covered her face, “Ah. So. you.” she was mumbling and he couldn’t figure her last words.

“Hrm?” he tilted his head, “Conrad I’d like my usual please, extra-large.” He ordered.

“Aye Figured.” the old man laughed, the sound similar bird cawing, “An’ for ya lassie?”

“Oh, Um.” she was scrutinizing the board, “I.. Actually don’t know.” she admitted, “I don’t drink coffee so I don’t know what’s good. I don’t like Bitter.”

“What about a cafe latte then?” Arulius offered, “it has a lot of milk and creamer in it so it’s sweeter than a normal coffee.”

“Is that so..” she mused as she tugged on the dogs lead, “Okay!” she smiled. He hadn’t imagined it earlier. He couldn’t help noticing her canines were very oversized.

“So a Death Macchiato and a Cafe Latte.” The older gentleman hopped off his bar stool. He barely stood taller than the counter.

“Don’t!” Arulius warned seeing her eyes go wide. He stood in front of her to whisper, “Do not laugh! He’ll put SALT in your drink!”

She was doing her best to not laugh, “I won’t, I won’t!” her voice cracked as she whispered. She covered her mouth in her hands.

��You are doing a bad job!” he snickered at her.

“I Know!” she wheezed and leaned against his back, “I wasn’t prepared! Ahh.” she sighed, taking a deep breath, “I’m cool, it’s cool!” she grinned widely showing off those odd teeth, “See It’s cool!”

“Well if ye are cool the coffee is hot.” The man put the two cups on the counter, steam rising off of them, “Drink up, it’ll be 12.50 pons lassie!”

“Oh good, it is still pons.” She sighed relieved as she pulled out her wallet and paid for the drinks. She took hers and handed off the other, “Cheers.” she smirked. She patted the dog’s head.

They tapped their cups together, taking a sip as they exited the establishment. Yup that was a Death Macchiato. He sighed happily intaking the illegal amount of pure espresso and a hint of cream with a sigh of relief, “Ah I live.”

“Do you?” she asked with a cheeky grin. She sipped on her own, “I don’t hate it. But coffee is still too bitter.”

“You think so?” he asked as they walked towards the campus. He froze, “Are you going here too?” he asked worriedly.

“No, I’m just meeting my brother.” She admitted, “He works here.” she shrugged, “he won’t get out for a bit, so I was just going to finish walking Damion and return him to his owner.”

“Oh, it’s not your dog?” He blinked at her, he was sure it was.

“Nope! I just walk him for his owner.” She gave another shrug, “I have to earn money somehow and it’s hard when you didn’t finish High School and have no trade skills.”

“Why not get your GED or something?” he pondered as they headed towards the history building, “are you following me the whole way?”

“Why not?” she asked with a sly grin, “Actually, I just don’t..” she paused thinking about the next choice of words, “don’t have time for it.”

“But you can dog walk, and escort a student to class?” he raised a brow.

“One day off does not make for a full set of classes.” she pointed out, “And I’m not worried, I mostly do this because I enjoy it.”

Standing on the building's edge she gave him a small bow, “have a good time in class, Arulius!” She grinned, turning heel and running off in her bright blue sneakers, the dog keeping pace as they vanished before he could respond.

He sighed waving and headed inside, setting his books down he froze.

He never told her his name.

-----

“Good work today class!” the teacher clapped his hands together, he wheeled around the classroom, picking up the students papers. “Remember Thursday is a test day! Time waits for no one, so please make sure to study!” he laughed as he rolled up to Arulius’s desk, “As for you, I know you are trying to succeed, but please when I say 6-10 pages, I only mean 10 max.” he grabbed the hefty stack from the desk, “Also when will you start typing your reports, Mr. law?”

“When Vanessa gives my laptop back?” he shrugged, rubbing his neck. “Sorry, I just really like writing them out.”

The grey-haired man sighed, tapping the other’s head with the stack, “use the computer lab next time.” the other students filed out of the classroom.

Arulius packed his bag up, pulling his phone out he sighed at all the texts Vanessa had left him. Typing back he shrugged the straps over his shoulder. He started his walk home with a disgruntled sigh. He couldn’t get a single day without her freaking out. What did he have to tell her to make her believe he wasn’t doing anything suspicious. He literally went to class, home, and the cafe.

He blinked as he watched the girl from that morning scoot by him into the classroom. He almost hadn’t noticed but she smelt heavily of pine as she cut by him.

“Sena!” She shouted as she headed inside with a wide grin, “Ready?” She asked as she stood on the back of his wheelchair, leaning over him.

“Oh more than. I’m getting sore.” he admitted with a laugh, “I know this was your day off but Tim said it was a pretty bad one. Friend was even worried.”

“Yeah. yeah.” she sighed and ruffled her hair. She turned towards the door giving the young man a wave, “Hi Again!”

“Oh. Uh right hi!” he waved back sheepishly as he turned to leave, having felt his face turn red. He couldn’t believe he got caught staring. He sighed looking back. So that was her brother. Weird. He didn’t recall his teacher ever mentioning any family. But then again it was his teacher. He felt his phone go off again. He started to run home with a heavy sigh.

-----

“So. Is it a violet, blue, red, green?” She asked as she closed the classroom door. She looked at her brother with a tilted head.

“Hold on. Let me just.” he pushed up on the wheelchair, his legs dissolving in an almost pixelated fashion as his skin turned light blue. His face rearranging into a more alien state, his head changing shape. He shook his head as he finished shifting and floating around her, “I love teaching but holding a human form gets so tiring. Plus the whole I don’t actually have legs thing.” he grumbled floating around her. He snapped his fingers so his chair folded up vanishing in a mass of red threads.

“Feeling better now you can stretch a little?” She chuckled as she raised her hand to reach into the air. It shimmered as her hand vanished, reappearing holding an hourglass.

“Oh much better. Also what was with you and Mr. Law?” he raised his brow curiously as he took the hourglass from her.

“Oh, Arulius?” She sighed, “The dog I was walking this morning jumped him.” She admitted, “I treated him to coffee as a sorry. You know. He reminded me a lot of that one shadow demon we met years ago.”

“You think so?” He tilted his head this time, clearly a family trait.

“His laughter.” she admitted with a big grin, “Also I totally found that old Firespirit! He runs a coffee shop! A far cry from a studio!”

“Well, that does happen when you jump dimensions as often as we do. Somethings get mixed around.” he shrugged as he flipped the glass, red threads around it as he did. “Though I highly doubt that Mr. Law is the Snatcher…” he frowned, “Actually, no. You may be right.” he sighed, “well let’s hope he meets a better fate here.”

“You going to steal his corpse?” She teased as she reached out a blue flame covering the red threads.

“You steal a prince’s body once and you never live it down!” he wheezed. “Almost got it!” he held his hands up, “Alright! I think we’re good for a jump!”

“Onward!” She grinned as she took the hourglass back and flipped it around, the air shifting as things began to rewind, the two of them standing still as folks moved around them as if in a movie.

“How far back?” She asked as she held the glass steady.

“About a day and OH!” he stopped her, the rift shimmering as they paused the world around them by turning the glass on its side. “There it is!” He pointed towards a shimmering crimson toned orb that floated above the students in the classroom.

“Oh booo. I hate red rifts.” She huffed as she got up on a desk reaching out.

“Wait Eclipse!” Sena shouted but it was too late, her foot brushed Arulius’s face as he sat at his desk righting. He blinked looking around confused. The trio was pulled into the orb with a fizzing noise. The world resumed without them.

----

“Uh...Uhh..” Arulius looked around as they stood on the ceiling in a rocky temple.

Eclipse was holding her head ashamed while he looked around. He winced as he felt blood from his nose, leaking down his face towards his mouth despite the way they stood.

“How do I explain this to Tim?!” she fretted as she held her head in her hands, “Sena! What do we do?!” she gasped.

The demon was looking around, inspecting the stonework, “Nothing can be done right now. We need to locate what caused this rift, be it a timepiece or something else. Since it’s a red one, that means there could be an escaped horizon lurker.”

“Sena! I think this is a little more pressing! Oh no.” She saw his nose bleeding and reached to wipe it, “Damnit.” she groaned, “I’m so sorry!”

“I’m just.” He was trying to figure what was going on. His head was pounding and his stomach lurched, “urp.” he covered his mouth with his hands as he paled trying to keep his lunch down.

A loud roar filled the air and she groaned, “Damnit. It is a Horizon lurker. Sena.” she held her hand out.

“Right.” the demon reached and grabbed the threads that materialized around his fingers and a golden halberd with a star theme formed from the threads. She took it and looked at the poor law student.

“Sena why don’t you stay with him. I’ll go get the timepiece.” she looked at him apologetically, “Sorry about this, Ru. I promise it’ll be like a bad dream when this is over!” She jumped from the ceiling landing on the ground and running off.

He could only stare in shock as he fell to his knees. He paused, “Sena…” he looked at the demon who was holding his hands and fretting, “Mr. Nightingale?” he asked quietly.

“Yes Um hello.” he waved with a low chuckle. He laced his fingers together and took human form, however he was standing upright as he rubbed his neck annoyed, “look this is just as weird for me!” he sighed heavily, “Dear Mother Moon. That girl I swear is always a wreck no matter which dimension I find her.” he grimaced and looked down, “We can make you forget this ever happened so don’t fret so much. Think of it like.” he waved his scarred hands around looking for the words, “well as Ammy said, a bad dream.”

“Ammy?” Arulius stared even more confused.

“Oh um. It’s my nickname for Eclipse.” the demon scratched his cheek and sat down beside the law student as he thought about the matter, “I should have activated the rift but she was so hurried. I know she has a quota to make but.” he stopped hearing a roar and a loud whooping noise, “seems she found the lurker.” he leaned on his hand and rapped his fingers on the stonework nervously, “please let her handle it without injury.” he begged.

Arulius stared, “what are you exactly?” he reached a hand to touch the smooth surface of the demon’s head.

#ask #anon #fan fiction #ahit au #Cafe Latte and Broken Dreams Au #ahit moonjumper #ahit prince #ahit fan character #Eclipse Guardian #Sena the threadsmith #Prince Arulius #I hope y'all enjoy!!#maybe I'll finish this au someday but this one ends sadly #granted i could change that #i should finish my coffee shop cinderella au as well #anyone wanna hear about that mess #ive actually posted art for that au

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writingsofmyimagination · 4 years

Text

Conjecture |13| The Final

Idol Reader Au, Enemies to Lovers AU

Summary: Your management refused to renew your contract unless you collaborated, so you ending up working with Min Yoongi. A guy you’d disliked from before both of your debuts. There is more to their past than meets the eye.

Links to other parts: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |11|12|

Last Chapter guys.... thank you for everyone that has liked and commented.... it means an awful lot. :)

Hope you guys have enjoyed the series.

Words:3304

Rating:18+

Warnings: SMUT!! (Slight exhibitionism maybe) Swearing. General sass.

Permanent Tags: @msunnsstuff @rosey-roseu @eyelessmin @backtonormalthings

Reblog, Like, Comment

The leather straps were cooling across your chest; just as the strap was tight across your hips. You struggled, the buckles keeping you firmly stuck to the table. The white lights quietly warming the rest of your bare exposed skin. Your obliques teasing their way to the surface as you wriggled against your restraints. Cut here scissor lines decorated across the most common places women dislike about themselves. Crescents at your side, inner thighs, cupping your breast. Two figures hovering over you, crazed hunger filled looks scanning your being.

Lee Jooheon was stood over you in pale blue scrubs beneath a pearly white lab coat littered with scruffy black writing. He was stood menacing in the wielding of a scalpel while conversing animatedly with the person next to him. Im Changkyun was dressed to the brim in a perfectly fitted black suit wielding a clipboard with a picture of a barbie on. IM was shoving his fingers to the picture and then to you. Jooheon nodding intently in agreeance, scalpel still active in the air.

“CUT!” The director called. A bell vibrating round the warehouse. Jooheon immediately tearing the Velcro under the fake buckles and rushing to reach under the table for the large white dressing gown placed discreetly under the table. The basic black lace lingerie set was the only thing covering you as you hauled yourself off the table before coating yourself in white fluff.

“You good?” Changkyun asked lightly supporting you to your feet.

“All good” you affirmed.

“That was great guys, a clear cut. Scene done in one. We’ll get the stage set up and do the combined verse and Y/N’s solo then we’ll call it a day” The director confirmed. All you heard was

Break time

The three of you b-lined straight for the snack table. The crew around you slowly setting down their equipment to follow suit. A mini swarm of black tee’d crew descended onto the set working quickly to dismantle the makeshift operating room and prepare the next set.

“Glad I can finally put some clothes on” selecting the bag of wotsits crinkling over your words.

“Never thought I’d hear you say that” Yoongi’s voice creeped in from behind. The other two chuckled into their mouthfuls of carbs. Without even eyeing him your trajectory already planned to slap his arm on your rotation round. The Acne studios hat comfy on his head, the blue grey hair pressed to his forehead. Long black sweater draped over loose wash out ripped jeans which were tucked into hi top vans.

There’s a comfy boyfriend right there

“Never thought I’d see you conscious before lunch on a day off” you quipped back.

“Alright… it’s too early for your sass” Yoongi said in defeat to your ear, his arms encasing the shield of fluff around you with the sweet extra of a kiss to the forehead. His camera gentle in sway to your hip, the leather strap resting on his shoulder.

“Loved the set though” he added

More like loved the fact I was strapped down

“I’m literally kidnapping this Dr’s coat” Jooheon flicked the collar up of the coat.

Dweeb

“It’s such a cool concept” Jooheon added

“More female artists need to be speaking out about the image pressures companies force” Changkyun piped up.

“It’s 2020 dude, guys can write about it too you know” you teased

“There’s ten times more pressure on you guys though”

He was right. Your concept was the bomb though. You and your image held hostage by the agency only for you to rebel against them all accompanied by some aggressive thought-provoking rap.

What more does a girl want?

“And we’re here doing this project with you so we technically are” Changkyun added.

Also true

“You also know I wouldn’t have you let say no” One of the runners dropped your outfit off to you. You both exchanged silent polite glances.

Mid conversation you held no reservations, untying your robe. It slid off your shoulders Yoongi saving it from the floor. You shrugged on the tight-fitting scrub top. The top conveniently had slits through the fabric. Making its function as a top dubious at best. The shorts were free from any intentional rips and were nice and basic. Yoongi’s eyes flitted briefly to the ground, gaze not sure where to settle. You were still getting used the fact he wasn’t as comfortable with your skin on show as you were. Multiple times you’d teased him at how awkward and polite he still was when you were actually his.

“Are you sure you just didn’t want an opportunity to tie your two favourite rappers to a chair? Beside me of course” Yoongi teased as your reflection stared back at you in the mirror, mouth agape hand delicate finishing a perfect cat flick on your eyeliner.

“Jealous?” You paused the application of your makeup while teasing, the flicks won’t be ruined for anybody. Eye contact cheekily held in place.

He leaned in just a tad, enough to make his words inaudible to the fanfare around.

“Babe, you know I wish it was me. Just at home, with less clothes. You in that set I love, ooo and the way you love to ride me like that…” You shoved him away.

“Alright alright enough, don’t tease. Go over there and behave” You indicated with your pinky finger behind the camera. Puckering your blood red lipstick equally, crew swift in moving out of your way as you stepped up onto the newly built mini stage.

A lonely microphone on the small rectangular stage was all to keep you company. The two boys looking calm, jovial in their conversation to each other as you adjusted the stand to your height. Yoongi trying to shield a half-cocked smile. You flipped him off. He always liked to tease your height.

He’s not even got much on me, cheeky shit

“Ready on set!” The director boomed. Crew obedient falling silently in a heartbeat.

“Action!”

The strongly worded verse and chorus were the first lyrics you’d scribbled down in some painful PR meeting. The topic of you and your body image and how they wanted to sell it was just slowly infuriating you. You were an Idol, rapper whatever people called you now. This shit comes with the territory but the way they guy was talking about you just ruffled about every damn feather in your being.

The bell rang again and the major scuffling on set commenced. You jumped off the stage and raced to Chloe who’d returned from taking Ted for a walk. Completely bypassing Yoongi, dropping to your knees and ruffling the ball of excited fluff.

“Hey boy” you cooed, scratching the belly after the desperate drop and roll he gave you.

“Dude he wanted to play with evvveerryyyone today”

“Well he was probably excited to hang out with auntie Chlo”

“You love him” you added

“I can’t even lie about that; can your assistant be on holiday more often?” His attention quickly became focused

“You would get me into soo much trouble if you were my assistant”

“But you’d have the best time” The pair of you laughed knowing she was absolutely right.

“I’ll catch you in a bit” Giving Ted once last squeeze before you went to makeup.

All paint removed; hair now styled to perfection. Makeup fairly natural and light, the artist dabbing a pad around your cheeks catching any moisture. Heavily ripped boyfriend jeans sat at your hips finishing just at the lower end of your calves. Pristine snug white trainers cushioned the weariness of your feet. You had to change your underwear to a white set as to not show through the thin white tie up crop top. You secured the tie at your chest, even Yoongi would have to work at undoing the knot.

“Ready?” the director popped his head round the door. You responded with a bright mumble as you were mid swig of your water bottle.

“Sweet, we rolling in three”

“Seriously, how did I land you?” Yoongi purred making his way into the office converted dressing room. The artist leaving the room promptly.

“Looks good right” You agreed, puckering your lips in the mirror.

“Mmmhhhmm” he growled low at your neck; hands secured round the front of your stomach. The warm body pressed up against you.

“I love when you dress more casual” His fingertips elegant in their tip toe over your curved behind, etching their impatient way to the tie in the centre of your chest.

“Oi! Keep your hands to yourself” A weak willed play fight broke out. Yoongi going straight for where you were ticklish; leaving you completely vulnerable to him manoeuvring you round to face him.

“Careful Min Yoongi, don’t be getting yourself worked up for something you can’t have”

“Can’t have?” If stroppy pouts could melt you, you’d be in a puddle right now.

“Last I remembered you invited the boys round to mine for a recording sesh” Your stroke on his chin phased his eyes to roll regrettably.

“Pretty sure you regret giving Hobi the key now ey?” you crept the words in his ear, pressing your hand to his crotch. His cheeks puffed up, sulking against your smirk poorly disguised through your mouthfuls of water leaving the pouty boy in the dressing room.

The pout was a constant tell as much as he tried to hide behind the lenses capturing the formidable stage unit the three of you formed. The multiple takes had a thin layer of perspiration gracing the foundation on your skin. The second the final bell rang through the metal interior the three of you took a breath, or several before you bowed to all the staff before embracing the two guys. The make-up artist rushed over to where you’d sat drooping your legs on the temporary stage, padding at your face. You shooed her off prematurely, not bothering with how wisps of hair were loosely stuck to your skin.

“That looks ace, thank you so much guys!” You exclaimed bright as possible. The three of you snug crowded round one of the main cameras

“It was a pleasure” Their eyes both drifted off to their manager who’d stepped in a bit closer

“Well that’s our cue to leave” Changkyun mumbled the drop in his face noticeable but not obvious.

“That’s fine, don’t get yourself into trouble”

“Give him ten minutes” Jooheon quipped.

You’d changed into a cool and floaty navy maxi dress. You’d fought and brushed as much product out of your hair as you could and shoved it in a loose pony. With only a few of the crew left on site, the wide-open space of the rooms seemed much larger, sound travelled heavier and echoed more. Yoongi was a picture holding your large D&G holdall glitzed with the gold emblem. He held the door for you leading into the drafty stairway. The grey concrete bleak, the bright blue railings guiding their way safely down. The walls were drab and plain.

You held out your hand, offering to relieve your boyfriend of the oversized bag from his slight frame. He began to oblige, eyes not wandering from his phone. His wrist caught in your hand yanking him into you and into the back of the wall. Did he resist? Absolutely not. Did he need any more guidance, most certainly not!

“Babe…”

“Mmm” humming in between your chest where his head and kisses were firmly being planted.

“Touch me already” your arms were loose as they draped over his shoulders.

“Seriously here?” It was more of a check than a complaint. Strong eyebrow raised.

Fucking yes

The hem of your dress slowly crept up your leg, crumpling up over his hand. His lips nearly caressing yours, the warmth of his breath rolling over your skin. The knowing smile escaped onto your features

“Fuck babe!”

“What?...mmm” your tone creeping higher feigning innocence. His fingers ghosting at the apex of your thighs. The bundle of nerves buzzing at the slight contact, he brushed his cheek to yours

“It’s too warm for underwear” you whined, still pleading innocence. Yoongi knew better, knew the lack of innocence you actually held.

“I’m calling bullshit” Your head gently rolled back into the wall.

“I’m reallllyy not complaining…” he added pushing a bit more of his weight into you, growling into your neck. Your grip tightening round his neck.

“Well let’s play a game of hurry the…mmm fuck up” you urged, teasing his fingers hard against you. The way his hips jutted feeling the rush of how much you wanted him. With the heat combusting through the heavy kisses, the air was thick and blissfully suffocating. Engulfed in heat he dragged your body round. It was your turn to be shoved hard against the cool concrete

“Careful…” you choked between laboured breathes.

“You’ll give yourself a problem we won’t have time to fix”

“My only problem is not hearing you moan my name” Aggressive hands crept back round the front hoisting your dress back up.

Metal clinked; voices echoed. Heartbeat petrified still in your chest.

Innocent coughs smuggling smiles, arms linked as the last of the camera crew polite in their bow as the gave passage to you.

“Thank you, you worked hard” you responded in kind as Yoongi let you take the lead single file past the biggest cock blockers of the year.

“UUUGGHH” you whined slamming your head back into the head rest as Yoongi parked the Land rover in your bay in the gated underground parking of your building.

“I’m soo sorry babe, you know I want to finish this track with Hobi and Joon…I promise I’ll make you…What are you doing?”

Knitted eyebrows with brown pools twinkling with rare mischief that only glistened with you. Like the first time he decided to be brave and go down on you in a dressing room. He’d missed you a hell of a lot, too much apparently for even unbothered Yoongi to take control.

You’d shuffled and maneuvered yourself to the back seat dropping to the chair with a success filled sigh.

“I don’t want to wait until later” A teasing lip bite was all he needed to be scrambling into the backseat to join you. The tinted windows offering you more privacy than what waited for you in the apartment.

“And what I want I get” Your legs were already snug on either side of his hips

“Don’t I know it” His hands already ruffling up your dress as your hands dived desperate to unhook his jean buttons.

You secured his hands round the back of the head rest

“Stay” you urged; hands remained obedient as yours went to elicit controlled groans from his throat as your hand wrapped around him. The need between your legs grew, your bites of his lower lip grew harder, hips rocking against a frustrating nothing. Your ponytail got pulled back sharply. Yoongi apparently had enough of you torturing yourself and him

“Turn around and let me feel you now”

“My hands not good enough for you anymore?”

“Not when I know your just desperate for my cock”

Fair point

Agreeing with complete compliance, invested in his way of thinking. You swept your hair to the front of your shoulder. Following a hard grunt, a deep wet kiss was pressed to shoulder blade you needed to take a beat adjusting to him.

“Mmpphh” you both grunted, head falling forward. Hand grappling behind looking to hook onto any part of him. Palm closing in on his thin waist. Circle movements heavy in your hip

“Better? Is that all my baby wanted hmm?”

“Mmmhmm…Just you” you choked as his hips jutted upwards.

“Yeah?” hair weaved in the long genius fingers tugged hard lips, soft teeth not so on your neck.

“Use me then”

Oh I’m going to

His hand not leaving your hair, hips refusing to offer you anything. The filth Yoongi whispered in controlled pants still offered the motivation for your movements. Every time Yoongi felt the tensing of your thighs or your moans reached a certain pitch too high he couldn’t help but buck up into you. The dusting of a chuckle would ease in through his grunts at your cries.

He wanted to tease. The grip in your hair, the honey on his smirk and the slight growl in the background of his words told you that. Min Yoongi was now unbothered about keeping his friends waiting.

Not today

“Min Yoongi if you don’t make me…mmm… cum in the next 10 minutes…fuuuck” His fingers now tight between your legs, each burst of movement causing you to clench round him with a desperate tension.

“Your body is telling me you need a lot less than ten princess. I certainly don’t”

“Prove it” you challenged. A Challenge you knew he’d destroy in minutes. The air seemed to dissipate from the car, the heat instead hovering round the two of you. Goosebumps erupted all over your skin. Legs beginning to store the tension building up like Jenga blocks in your muscles. Back arching into him forming the perfect crescent. Your moans escalating both in pitch and volume rattled through his brain, trickling in hot drips down his spine adding the pressure within him to breaking point. A breaking point which spilled over before he could gain any control. The hand secured round your pony tail released and dropped to your shoulders with his head following suit, a few heavy breaths later

“I’m sorry… baby, you just feel too good”

“Turn around again baby”

“Do I need to do some more training with you? Your stamina is …” you teased hasty in your shuffle round, hasty to not let your climax slip to nothing.

“Probably” he confessed

“Thought…Mmhmm”

“Just be quiet and let me make you cum”.

The tips of Yoongi’s hair were damp, you tried to ruffle it but the damp ends still reflected against the midday sun. Your selfie camera informed you that out of the two of you, you were the only one that didn’t look like they’d just fucked in a car. Unfortunately for Yoongi his face always flushes a cute tinted light red. He hated it. You thought it was hilarious.

“Will you please do a better job of not smirking, you know how observant Hobi is” Yoongi scolded, amusement drained from his face.

“Sorry…” you chuckled. You passed your hand over your face, smirk disappearing. Normal face trying to hold while your hand pressed down on the handle. You were met with silence for a few seconds before you had Ted bounding for you. Soon followed by Joon and Hobi who had been sat on their phones on the sofa. The TV was a silent black.

“I said you guys can treat this as your own space when you’re here, no need to sit in silence” You reminded half chuckling swiping Ted off his feet into your arms.

“I know, I know” Joon acknowledged.

“Sorry we were late, shoot ran over” Ted was put back to scrambling excitedly at your feet as you maneuvered your way to the fridge. Your eyes shot to Hobi, controlled by the unconscious notion if anyone was going to pick up on your white lie it would be him. His eyes were hovering on Yoongi for more than they should.

“It’s alright we get it” With Hobi’s smile being as sweet and as kind as it was. It was hard to decipher.

“You guys okay to chill for like five more minutes while I grab a quick shower” Yoongi checked.

“I’ll even but the TV on for you” he added. At this point you’d already disappeared and enjoying the hot water streaming across your skin.

“Sure, don’t let that run over too though” Hobi jested emphasising the ‘run’.

#smutcentralnet #ksmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #bts #mygsnet #yoongi #yoongi x reader #bts smut #BTS suga #conjecture

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xgoldxnhour · 3 years

Note

Ship meme for El and Sam (any verse)

ULTIMATE SHIP MEME!

Send in two (or more) names and I’ll fill all this out about the ship!

General: Modern/TWD - I couldn't choose

How long will they last? - Well, both until their death obviously, but modern is a few decades (THANK GOD) and TWD is roughly 18-19 years.

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - Modern - they've been smitten for awhile, if not the whole time, but we like to torture ourselves with that slow burn best friends to lovers 10K words fanfic. TWD - literally weeks and only knew by each other's voices. It literally breaks me.

How was their first kiss? - MAGICAL. 10/10. Desperation. Chef's Kiss.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Sammy boy

Who is the best man/men? - Modern - hmmmm maybe one of his closest coworkers? His dad?

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - I don't know if she'd have any. Her brother is definitely up there with her

Who did the most planning? - I think El did a lot of the organizing of things, but they did it all together

Who stressed the most? - El, but she just stresses in general. They stressed about different things maybe. I think she stressed most in the beginning and he did getting closer to the wedding.

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big. - TWD - But I mean. It might've been tiny, but the church was BEAUTIFUL. Modern - Big, barn-like wedding or maybe at the cabin for that woodsy feel. AH. Beautiful.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Uh....cannibals?

Sex:

Who is on top? - Both, but maybe more Sam xD

Who is the one to instigate things? - Both are guilty in all verses.

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head - I mean. RDR. That's all I gotta say.

How long do they normally last? - Depends on how much time they got haha. They're both sprinters and endurance runners hahahaha

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Yes, but I also don't think they're trying to think about it much.

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it. - Basically no in between lmao

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children: Modern

How many children will they have naturally? - One - their own personal Aurora Borealis

How many children will they adopt? - Well, they technically adopt a lot of fur babies in Modern haha

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - El, but she doesn't mind. Sam is so good about waking up at night though.

Who is the stricter parent? - I think they both have their moments, but maybe El?

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Hm. HM. Depends on the stunt lol. But probably El. Sam is probably the instigator lol.

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - El writes her little notes and makes shapes out of her food. It's basically arts and crafts for lunch.

Who is the more loved parent? - Aurora is such a daddy's girl, but mommy gives the best cuddles.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? I think during the day, it's maybe El since she works at the school or in the area. But, Sam will try if he can get the time off.

Who cried the most at graduation? - They both definitely wiped some tears, El probably wept on the car ride home though. Proud parents.

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - I mean. Her dad IS the law. So xD

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Depends. Sam is an incredible cook, and they love cooking together. But, if he's working late, she comes and brings him his favorite or whatever she was experimenting that day.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - I think they're actually both pretty adventurous in their palette. Plus, they literally can't be picky in TWD lol.

Who does the grocery shopping? - Mainly El if it's during the week, but they go together on the weekend or she'll text him to pick up something specific after work.

How often do they bake desserts? - Constantly. Once a week if not more.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - Both. Maybe Sam's more of a meat eater, but El is definitely an omnivore.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Equally.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Hm. Depends. When do these two leave their house unless they need to haha. For milestone anniversaries and birthdays, they sometimes travel and road trip to the Redwoods or the beach.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - El, but both can get slightly distracted sometimes when they're cooking.

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - El. Blast some music and she'll go at it for hours.

Who is really against chores? - No one is against cleaning per say, but maybe they both would rather stay in bed all day instead.

Who cleans up after the pets? - Sam

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Both have their moments.

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - El. Everything has to be perfect or she'll go bezerk.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - I don't know why, I feel like Sam would just be that lucky. But, El would be so excited like she's won the lottery about it.

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? -El. Sam is the master of the quick shower, but not when El's around lol.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - Sam did! But, when then they made it a habit to take Seamus on a walk together. Pumpkin obviously comes and goes on their own accord.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Every. Single. One. El goes overboard for holiday decorations and projects like that. Every season. All the decor. Probably has a HomeGoods credit card for those coupons.

What are their goals for the relationship? - Perseverance. Intimacy. Never go to bed angry. Communication. To love without effort and love even more when it needs effort.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - EL aka the night owl since she's so used to working late nights. Definitely not a morning person. Sam is fluent in her groans in the morning.

Who plays the most pranks? - Both do definitely in Modern. Maybe even more so when they have Aurora who likes to tag team.

@mettleborn

#mettleborn #sam: tell me the story of how the sun fell in love with the moon #[sam & eloise: desert flowers and dandelions]#would literally die for them

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unrighteousbooks · 4 years

Text

By the Prickling of My Thumbs

This happened about 10 years ago. I try not to think about it, because thinking about it keeps it fresh in my mind, and I need it to be hazy. Maybe if I tell you this story you'll say: That had to be a dream. Maybe you'll convince me.

But I know I wasn't a dream.

I spent a lot of time in bookstores back then. I still do, but after this happened, it was a very long time before I went into a bookstore at night. And to this day, I still won't go into an empty cafe. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

At the time I was doing technical writing as a consultant, and I'd been assigned to a project at an engineering firm about a mile from my home. It was October, and I'd been working late nearly every night. When the weather was good, I'd walk home, and sometimes I'd take different routes. I felt like I didn't have any time to myself, and walking gave me a little time to unwind. Now and then I'd detour down a side street, just because it bought me another five or ten minutes alone. One night, during one of those detours, I happened to pass a little bookshop. They had a display set up in the front window: Big stacks of books with brown and black and orange covers, some pumpkins, a cauldron and a witch's hat. They had one of those big paper skeletons, too, about five feet tall... the ones printed on heavy card stock, with little rivets connecting the joints, so that you could swing the arms and legs into different positions. Very retro. I was sure that I'd been down that street before, and I felt like I'd surely gone past the store before, but I'd never noticed it. It was close to 9, and I was surprised that they were still open. I knew I ought be getting home, but I decided it was worth a quick look, even though they'd probably kick me out after five or ten minutes to close up shop.

I pulled the door open and when I did I remember hearing a bell. This wasn't an electronic chime like so many places have now. It was an actual, old-fashioned brass bell that rang when the door swung open. As I went inside, my first thought was that it was heaven. Book heaven. It was exactly the kind of shop I loved. There were rows and rows of tall wooden bookcases. There were overstuffed armchairs here and there, each with a little table and a reading lamp next to it. The floor was made of wood, and you could tell that it had been there for at least a century. There were places where newer boards had been patched in, and here and there they had patched small holes with little pieces of sheet metal. It had that rundown charm that suits a bookstore perfectly.

And obviously, there were books. Books everywhere, overflowing from the shelves. Beautiful old books. Not a new book anywhere in sight, and for some reason that always appeals to me. Books stacked in the corners and piled high on practically every flat surface.

I didn't see anyone else around, but that didn't strike me as particularly odd. That was the point of the bell on the door, right? And I knew that if it were my shop, I wouldn't sit up by the front counter. I'd curl up in one of those chairs, and I'd read book after book after book.

I wandered around a bit. Near the back of the store I found a huge stack of vintage paperbacks, and I started sorting through them. About halfway down the stack I came across an old copy of a Ray Bradbury book -- Something Wicked This Way Comes -- and realized that it was exactly the same edition I'd had when I was young. It brought back so many memories: Hot summer nights with the window of my room open and crickets chirping outside. Lying on top of my bed with my head propped up against my pillow, and the little lamp on my nightstand was the only light on in the entire house. I remember wanting the book to last forever and wanting the night to last forever.

I was standing there, holding the book, staring at the cover and reliving those memories, and suddenly I heard a woman's voice, whispering in my ear:

"By the prickling of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes."

Holy hell, it startled me so badly that I actually dropped the book. I don't know where she came from. I hadn't seen her and hadn't heard her and then suddenly she was right there.

And then I turned and saw her.

My god, she was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Dark hair, dark eyes, an athletic build. Wire-rimmed glasses and a little black dress. Stylish, but stylish in a way that seemed effortless. And she was holding a book.

She looked down at the book I'd just dropped, and when she spoke she had a voice like honey. "Look at us. We're both wicked." And then she held up her book: Macbeth. It took a second for it to register, but then I realized the title of Bradbury's book -- "something wicked this way comes" -- was from Macbeth. The witches around the cauldron.

I wanted to say something clever. Or at least something not completely stupid, since I'd already embarrassed myself. But all I could think of was, "Do all the wicked readers congregate here?"

She tilted her head to the side, and she was smiling. "Certainly not all of them," she answered. "There wouldn't be room."

She was still right by my side. Obviously I don't mind being next to a beautiful woman, but she was a little too close. I took at step back and then said, "This is an amazing shop, isn't it?"

She ignored my remark and looked down at the book. "Aren't you going to pick that up?" I immediately knelt to retrieve it, then stood up promptly. This seemed to please her, as if she'd just confirmed that she could easily make me do whatever she instructed. The way she smiled and the way she watched me was intoxicating. "You love books, don't you?" she asked.

"I do," I answered.

She was still holding Macbeth, closed, with her left hand beneath the spine. She opened her hand slightly and ran the thumb of her right hand along the edge of the pages, causing the book to start to spread open, but only slightly. As she did, she spoke softly, as if choosing each word with great care. "So many mysteries." As the pages began to part, she placed the middle finger of her right hand against the gap. "So many secrets..." She slowly pushed her finger into the narrow opening. "...inside."

I don't know how to describe what I felt at that moment. Or maybe I know exactly how to describe it, but would rather not.

Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and yet there was something forceful in her tone: "There are people who burn books. There are books that are forbidden. Can you imagine that? Doesn't it make you wonder what's inside the book? Doesn't it make you want it so much more, knowing that you can't have it?" She looked up from the book, but kept her head tilted down slightly, so that she was looking over her glasses, rather than through them.

How can I describe that moment? The common phrase -- eye contact -- is so terribly inadequate. She held my gaze: Held it, made it her captive. Made me her captive. I couldn't look away.

She asked again: "How badly do you want it?"

I admitted the truth. "Very badly."

She put Macbeth down on the nearest shelf. I was still holding the Bradbury book. She reached out with her right hand and placed it on the cover, next to mine. Slowly she ran hand across the cover, letting her fingertips brush across my fingers, my hands, over the bare skin on my wrist, and then up my arm. It was electrifying.

"How do you feel," she asked, "once you've had the forbidden things? What then?"

She was still looking at my eyes, and I knew that she wanted an answer. "Not all the forbidden things are the same," I replied.

She nodded slightly, as if she approved of my answer. I felt her hand close around my wrist, and then, with her other hand, she took the book from me and set it down.

Her voice was still very low, and she spoke slowly. "What if I told you that it was forbidden to tell you my name?"

"Then I would ask you: What is your name?"

"Don't you think I would lie to protect my secrets? That I would make up a name?"

"That would be up to you."

"If it were forbidden," she said, "then certainly I'd lie to you at first. I would make up names that sounded intriguing. A little unusual."

"What is your name?"

"Mara," she said. Then she brought her lips to my ear and whispered, "I'm lying." She drew back slightly. "My name is Rubi." Then she paused and added, "Or perhaps it isn't. Perhaps it's Stephanie. Or possibly Sierra. Or some other name that you won't remember."

I should have known then that something was very wrong. Those names, the first few names should have been enough to warn me, but I wasn't thinking. I was looking at her eyes, such dark eyes, and I wasn't thinking.

"I won't ask your name," she whispered. "But if you really want to know mine, I'll tell you. Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"My name is Luci," she said. "Luci Black. Luci, Princess of Darkness." She took hold of my hand and turned it, palm up, and with a feather's touch she ran her fingers across the lines in my palm. "Do you know that I told you the truth just now? I wonder why I did that."

"Do you make it a habit to lie?"

"I make it a habit to not have habits," she said. "Habits are dull. Doing the same thing over and over is pointless, don't you think? Life is about new things. New experiences. Different experiences."

I wanted to answer her, but I didn't get the chance. She placed both of her hands around my hand and pushed her thumbs into the center of my palm. She leaned forward cautiously, and tilted her head as if to kiss me. And I wanted her to. Oh, god, how I wanted her to kiss me. She let her cheek brush against mine. She squeezed my hand and, with her cheek against mine, she whispered: "By the prickling of my thumbs..." She pressed her body against mine. "Something wicked this way..."

The last word, the unsaid word, lingered like electricity in the air in the last moments before a thunderstorm, until she whispered it so softly: "...comes." Then the lightning struck: her arms were suddenly around me and she kissed me hungrily. I felt it, the hunger from deep inside her and deep inside me. A kiss like the witches' brew, toil and trouble and fire burning. I felt a moment of absolute bliss. She pulled away from me and whispered: "You're wicked. I can taste it on your lips." Then she kissed me again, a long delicate kiss until suddenly I felt her teeth on my lower lip, biting down slowly. Hard. Too hard. I put my hands on her waist to push her away, but she opened her mouth and pressed her lips to my ear. "You're very wicked," she said. And then she looked me in the eyes and whispered, in a taunting voice. "Wicked," she said, "and unfaithful. There are others, aren't there? Other women. I can taste them on your lips. I can taste their innocence. The traces of everything that you devoured."

She took a step back and tilted her head to one side, looking at me carefully, as if she were evaluating me. "Both of us, wicked," she said. "Which one of us will devour the other?"

I don't know how to describe what I felt. My heart was racing. Fire and ice at the same time: I was burning up and yet there was an unsettling chill racing down my spine.

Then, without another word, she turned suddenly and walked away quickly between the rows of tall bookcases. She turned the corner and disappeared from view.

I wanted to run after her. Didn't I want that? Yes. No. Yes. "Please wait!" I tried to strip the emotion from my voice, because I wanted to sound unfazed, but I know I failed. I took a step to follow her and carelessly kicked over the stack of old paperbacks. I gathered them quickly just as I heard the chime of the bell on the front door.

By the time I reached the door she was gone. I stepped outside and saw a figure hurrying away through the street. I started to follow but realized that it wasn't her.

I stopped in the middle of the street and realized that I was shaking. I took a deep breath, turned around, and started walking back toward the store. As I did, the lights inside blinked out.

Closed.

I stood there for a moment longer. I knew that I should forget about it. Forget about her. But I knew I wouldn't. I knew I would come back the next night, looking for her.

* * * * *

There was no reason to believe I'd see her again. All day long I kept thinking about her. I made sure to leave work a little earlier that night, thinking I'd have a better chance of meeting her. I told myself that if she wasn't there, that would be fine: After all, even if she wasn't there, the books would be.

The night before, I hadn't given much thought to the path I'd taken on the way home, and I soon realized that I wasn't sure which street the store was on. I took a wrong turn, then another. Somehow, even though I prided myself on a good sense of direction, I'd gotten turned around. For a moment, I started to think that I was genuinely lost, even though I knew I couldn't possibly be far from home. To try to get my bearings, I turned another corner. As soon as I did, I saw the shop ahead of me, half a block away.

I'd like to be able to say that I had a sense of foreboding as I started to approach the store. That would make it seem as if I were slightly less foolish. I should have known that something wasn't right. The truth, however, is that I was thinking about only one thing: I'd met a beautiful woman, and I wanted to meet her again.

When I opened the door I felt as if I'd stepped back in time. But how far back? To the previous night? Twenty years? Fifty years? I only know that I felt as if I were suddenly somewhere else entirely. The sound of the little brass bell, the rows and rows of books, the smell of the place... they all belonged to another time. An ancient brass cash register -- surely just for show -- sat on counter to the left of the door, but was unattended. The store looked empty. In fact, the store felt empty.

I walked back toward the spot where I'd found the old Bradbury paperback the night before. The stack of paperbacks was gone, probably carefully sorted and tucked away in their proper places. I stood there for a moment, staring at nothing, waiting for something. She wouldn't be back. Of course she wouldn't. It didn't matter anyway, did it? It was nothing: A kiss from a stranger in a strange place on a strange night. It didn't matter.

I shut my eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of old books. I told myself that when I opened my eyes I would look at the books surrounding me and appreciate them for what they were. The truth is, however, that I believed if I closed my eyes she might suddenly be there, whispering in my ear, and I would open my eyes to find her standing next to me.

When I opened my eyes, of course she was not there.

I walked back to the front of the shop. I paused for a moment, looking at the display in the front window, and realized that it had been created with a great deal of thought: Although it was clearly intended to attract the attention of anyone outside the shop, it was equally arresting from inside. The paper skeleton, the pumpkins, the carefully-chosen books with their autumn-themed colors had all been arranged in such a way that they could also be appreciated from within the store.

I began working my way through the aisles, looking for anything unique or unusual. The front section was mostly very old books from the 19th and early 20th century. That struck me as slightly odd; most stores put more recent books and popular books at the front, and kept the obscure antiquarian fare at the back. The condition of the books, too, was surprising. They showed relatively little wear, and I wondered if the bulk of them had come from a single source. An auction or estate sale from a dedicated collector, perhaps?

One other thing seemed strange. Many of the books were no doubt quite valuable, and yet there seemed to be no one minding the store. Probably, I thought, it was an illusion that the owner had cultivated deliberately. The antique cash register, the old books, the old bell on the door: It was all intended to evoke a simpler time, but there were probably cameras monitoring every inch of floor space, RF scanners concealed somewhere near the door, and an iPad with a card reader under the counter. And although I couldn't see anyone else, there was a closed door near the counter, and light streamed out from the crack at the bottom of the door. An office, perhaps, with the owner relaxing inside?

I knew it was getting late, but didn't want to leave. I was still hoping that Luci might show up again. Luci: for whatever reason, I had suddenly decided that she had been telling the truth when she said her name was Luci Black.

I tried to focus my attention on the books. Near the back of the store, an old volume caught my eye: Stories of Strange Women. I pulled it down from the shelf. The cover showed a forest nymph, unclothed, but covering herself modestly. I made my way to the end of the aisle, where a pair of armchairs flanked a small table beneath the warm glow of a Tiffany lamp. I sat down and opened the book. The date inside said 1906, but the book was still in excellent condition. I scanned the chapter titles: The Garments of a Girl, His Mistress and Her Maid, Leave it Alone...

I heard footsteps. Light steps, deliberate, approaching slowly. The sound of hard heels on the wooden floor. I did not look up, but I knew it was her. As she drew closer, she began to speak, timing each word with a single step:

"Something. Wicked. This. Way. Comes."

I looked up. She stopped a few feet in front of me. She held an open book in front of her face concealing everything except her eyes.

The book was by Gregory Maguire: Wicked. She looked at me for a moment, then looked down at the book, and read a passage:

"'It seems to me that you have come here to -- shall we say -- relieve yourself of some sad business or other. You have the look about you. Don't be startled, my dear, if there's a look I do recognize, it's the look of someone carrying a burden."

I smiled. "What do you think my burden is, Luci?"

She sat down in the other chair, separated from me by the small table. She was wearing a short red sundress, one that seemed too thin for the season. A small red leather purse was slung over her right shoulder. She put the book on the table and then removed her purse and set it on top of the book. She crossed her legs demurely, smoothing the dress as she did. I tried to ignore the graceful curve of her calves, tried not to stare at her smooth thighs, tried not to remember the way her lips had felt when she'd kissed me the night before.

She leaned back and regarded me silently. "Unfinished business, perhaps? Maybe that's the problem: There's something that you ought to be carrying with you, but instead you always leave it behind. Then it becomes someone else's burden."

Was she trying to tell me something? Warn me about something? Would things have been different if I had asked her what she meant? But I didn't. I simply said, "How wicked of me."

She turned away from me and looked around slowly, as if she were carefully memorizing the details of the store. Without turning back to face me, she asked, "What brought you here tonight?"

"You." It was a truthful answer, and although I hadn't said it to flatter her, I thought she would be pleased.

Instead she turned to me and asked, "Was it really me? Or do you just enjoy temptation?"

"Possibly," I said. "But it would be fair for me to ask why you're here, as well. Isn't there a line from Shakespeare about temptation? 'The tempter or the tempted, who sins most?'"

"Measure for Measure. Shall we compare our sins? Do you suppose one of us would walk away feeling virtuous? Or would we both be sinners?"

"Surely there's no sense in dwelling on the sins in our past."

"When we could instead dwell on our sins in the here and now?"

Was there a slow, steady current of seduction flowing through her words, or was it all in my imagination? I shrugged. "All our sins are purchased on credit, aren't they? Sin now, pay later."

"Do you ever wonder who does the accounting for all these sins? Do you keep track of your own?" Her voice became a whisper. "I don't think you do. What happens when those bills come due?"

I felt a slight stir of uneasiness. I remembered that sudden chill that had overcome me the night before. Why? Was it what she said, or the way she said it? I decided to steer the conversation back to the mundane. "All this talk of accounting and credit and bills. Do you work here, Luci? Is this your shop?"

"I don't work here," she answered. "I just like being here. I feel a connection to this place. One of my favorite haunts, you might say."

"I never noticed this place until last night. I don't know how I missed it. I must have passed by so many times."

"Maybe you're too focused on other things. Sometimes we don't see what's right in front of us." The tone of her voice changed slightly, and the next sentence sounded almost like a taunt: "Or perhaps your memory isn't very good."

Had we met before, long ago? I felt certain that we hadn't. Best not to take the bait. She had intended to tease me, but I would compliment her. "I certainly doubt if my memory is as good as yours. At the very least you're well-versed in Shakespeare."

"We both have a passion for books," she replied. She looked down at her lap and paused, slowly running her finger over the smooth metal clasp of her purse. "But I think mine runs deeper. Do you ever think about books as physical things? I don't mean the stories and the ideas inside the books. I mean the books themselves, as objects. Do you know what I've always found fascinating? All these books had to be made. Manufactured. Or sometimes sewn by hand." She unhooked the clasp and looked up at me. "Do you know what I have? Let me show you." She lifted the flap of the purse and reached inside.

"I bought this long ago," she continued. "I wanted to make some books by hand." She pulled out a small object and held it up. It was a single piece of black metal, perhaps six inches long, half an inch wide, a quarter inch thick. "It's called a kiridashi knife."

It had no handle of any kind, and my first thought was that it was not a knife at all. Then, as she slowly turned it over in her hand, I saw that one end had been cut at a long angle and ground to a steep bevel. The bevel gleamed with a mirror finish. Even without touching it, I could tell: It was razor sharp.

The uneasiness that I had felt a moment earlier enveloped me. I felt cold, as if my blood were draining away.

She held the knife beneath the lamp, examining its edge in the light. "This one is made from laminated steel. Precise, like a scalpel, but so much stronger." She fixed her gaze on my eyes. "In the end, I never made the books I wanted to make," she said. "But I keep the knife with me."

I willed my voice to remain flat and free of emotion. "Is it safe to keep it in your purse that way? With no sheath?"

"Are you worried that I'll cut myself? Or worried that I'll dull the edge?"

"Both are valid concerns, don't you think? Not to mention what might happen to anything else that you keep in your purse."

"I don't carry much with me." She laid the knife down gently on the copy of Wicked, staring at it. "Do you ever think about the words in the books? I mean: What the words are. They're tools. Writers build entire worlds out of them. The words on the pages, those aren't what a writer creates. A novel, a poem, a beautiful love letter... those are the creations. Stories." Her voice faded slightly as she spoke. She looked at me again briefly, then looked around the shop, as if she sensed something in the air, but couldn't see it.

The fear I had felt seconds before began to subside.

"The writer's creation is... where, exactly? Where is the world that a writer creates? It takes up residence in our heads, I suppose. In the imagination. But it's not really in the book." She turned back to me, and looked me in the eyes again, as if she wanted to be certain that she had my full attention.

"This is why books fascinate me: The book isn't the story. The book is just the record that tells us how the story was created. It's a recipe. A formula. It's a list of all the things that went into the potion and all the things that were used to create the spell: Fenny snake, owlet's wing, gall of goat. But reading the formula doesn't make the magic go away. We're still under the spell of those words. They are there, on the pages in front of us, and yet we can't undo the magic."

"Do you want to break the spell, Luci?"

She thought for a moment. "How do you think it feels to be bewitched, when you know that the witch no longer remembers casting the spell? All you have left are the empty words that entranced you. Like tool marks on a carving made long ago." With her right hand, she picked up the knife again. She turned her left hand palm up, directly under the lamp, opening her hand and spreading her fingers out.

She put the tip of the knife against the tip of her little finger and pushed until a single drop of blood appeared.

"Luci --"

"How many? How many cuts?" Her voice was barely audible, but shockingly harsh. She pressed the tip of the knife against the next fingertip.

"Luci, put the knife down."

"You shouldn't tell me what to do." She pressed the knife in and another drop of blood appeared. "Do you think writers forget the stories they tell us?" She put the knife against the tip of her middle finger, drew another drop of blood. "What about the people who live in the worlds they create?"

"Please put the knife down. Let's talk. I'll listen to you."

"What if a writer starts a story, but never finishes it?" She cut another fingertip.

I thought about grabbing her wrist and wrenching the knife away from her, but in the same instant she stood up suddenly and took a step backward. She held her left hand out again and sliced into the skin on the tip of her thumb deeply. Blood began dripping down into the palm of her hand.

"Don't follow me!" Her voice was louder now, a staccato torrent of anger. "Don't look for me. When you leave this place, don't come here again. Ever."

She spun around and walked toward the door quickly, each step echoing in the empty room. "Luci!" I stood up, wanting to follow her, wanting to help her, but the thought of the knife and what she might do -- to me, or to herself -- kept me rooted in place. I couldn't think clearly and I didn't know what to do. I lost sight of her as she reached the end of the aisle and turned toward the front of the store. I had to go after, I knew I had to.

I remember seeing little drops of blood on the floor, and then I heard the sound of the bell on the front door, heard the sound of the door closing.

"Luci, wait! Wait, please wait!" I rushed down the aisle, turned toward the front of the store, and then...

There was a loud, deep noise that reverberated through the store, almost like thunder. I heard the sound before I saw her, before I knew what had caused the sound. Then I saw her hand, the knife still clenched in her fist, as she slammed the heel of her hand against the plate glass window. The glass didn't break, but it rattled deeply. She was looking at me through the window. Looking at me with pure hatred. All those Halloween decorations in front of the window, the jack-o'-lanterns, the cauldron and the witches' hat, the paper skeleton swaying back and forth slowly: They all suddenly looked absurd in the presence of something genuinely terrifying.

On the other side of the glass, Luci lowered her fist slowly and bent over slightly, and for a moment I couldn't see her hands, couldn't see what was happening, and now I tell myself over and over and over that there was nothing I could have done even if I had seen...

And then I saw her wince, and then she threw her head back, almost as if she were laughing, and for a moment she looked at me and her face looked suddenly very serene, and then, then...

Then I saw her swing her fist again and there was that same loud sound as she slammed her hand into the glass, but this time it was not the hand that had held the knife. It was her left hand and she slammed it against the glass and suddenly a horrible, bright red smear appeared on the glass, and she looked me in the eyes and her voice became a terrifying, haunting screech: "By the prickling of my thumbs..."

And she spread her hand open against the glass and I saw what she had done. She had cut off her thumb.

And then she backed away from the window quickly and disappeared into the darkness, and the bitter cry hung there in the night air: "Something wicked this way comes!"

* * * * *

Everything after that was a blur. Maybe I was in shock. I can't piece together exactly what happened next, or in what order. I just know this: I ran out after her. I couldn't see where she had gone. I think I crossed the street, I might have run down an alley, I'm not certain. I don't know exactly how long I looked. I think I had yelled something as I ran out of the store: call an ambulance, call the police. When I couldn't find her I went back to the store, and there was no one there. No police. No one behind the counter. No one at all. I remember walking back through the store, and seeing those little drops of blood on the floorboards. I remember that her purse had fallen to the floor and was still there. I bent down and picked it up, and realized that it felt much too light. I opened it.

There was nothing inside.

I walked to the counter. There was still no one there. I don't remember if I said anything, or if I called out. I think I did. Or I think I didn't. I don't know anymore. But I know that I put the purse there, beside the cash register, and then I walked out. I picked a direction at random and started walking, and then realized: Blood, she was bleeding so much, whichever way she had gone there would surely be blood. I could follow the blood. I think about that now, and I know it's such a horrible thought, like a fairy tale twisted and gone wrong. Instead of a trail of breadcrumbs to lead the way out of the forest, there was a trail of blood to lead me... where, exactly? To lead me astray? To led me to a furious woman with a razor-sharp knife?

I turned around to head back toward the store one more time, and when I did I saw that the lights were off. I walked back, looking at the window, and I realized with a shock that there was nothing there. No blood on the glass, no blood on the sidewalk, nothing. Only a small amount of light filtered in through the window. I couldn't see anything inside, except for one thing: The paper skeleton. It was still swaying back and forth slowly, a silent Danse Macabre.

* * * * *

I went back the next night. Or I should say: I tried to go back. I couldn't find the store.

It would be reasonable to ask why I waited until nighttime. I can't explain. I could have searched for the store in the morning, on the way to work, and I could have looked for traces of what had happened. Or maybe what hadn't happened. Maybe I thought if I went to work as usual, went through the usual routine, the world would suddenly go back to normal.

But as soon as the sun went down, I knew I'd go again. I left work as early as I could, and I took the same route I had taken the night before. Didn't I? I suppose I was so confused, maybe I wandered down the wrong street again.

I couldn't find the store. I was certain I was on the right street, but I couldn't find it. I walked to the end of the block, then down the next block and back, and it just wasn't there. I tried to remember what was nearby, and I couldn't recall. I hadn't paid attention. Nearly everything else on the street was already closed. Then I noticed one little coffee shop, still lit up. Light streamed out through a large plate glass window, spilling out onto the sidewalk. I realized that I was getting cold, and the cafe looked nice and warm and inviting. There was one of those little folding chalkboard signs in front of the door. It had a drawing of a pumpkin and a few autumn leaves, very nicely done in yellow and orange and red chalk, and above it, the name: THE LOST CAFE.

I swung the door open, and do you know what? They had another one of those brass bells, just like the one they'd had at the bookshop. The space was small. There weren't any other customers inside, but I had the same thought that I'd had when I'd gone into the bookstore: It was late, they'd probably be closing soon, and there was never much activity on these little side streets anyway.

The floor was made of dark wood, unfinished, timeworn but somehow elegant. The walls were bare brick, with framed Art Nouveau prints on one side and replicas of old metal advertising signs on the other. There were a few tables in the middle, with booths along one side wall and, in front of the rear wall, a long counter with bar stools. The counter was illuminated from above by a long strand of bare light bulbs, like the ones you used to see at car lots. One bulb kept flickering on and off, like it had a short circuit. I caught a glimpse of someone behind the counter, bent over and facing away from me, but I didn't pay them any attention.

I sat down at a table for two in the center of the room, choosing the chair on the opposite side of the table, so that I was facing the front windows. In the center of the table there was a laminated one-page menu tucked between a basket of sweetener packets and a chrome napkin dispenser.

I pulled the menu out and scanned it. For the most part it was typical coffee house fare: An assortment of coffees and espressos, lattes, muffins and biscotti. At the bottom of the menu, however, there was a single line, set apart from everything else. It said:

THE SPECIALTY OF THE HOUSE IS ALWAYS ON THE HOUSE

I stared at it for several seconds, wondering what it meant. Then, behind me, I heard one of the floorboards creak, and a woman's voice. Her voice. Luci's voice.

"Do you want to know the specialty of the house?"

I froze. I wanted to turn around but I couldn't will myself to do it. I had a horrifying image of my head suddenly being pulled back, my throat exposed, and the kiridashi knife slicing across my neck.

I heard another floorboard creak and I could tell that she was still behind me, but had moved slightly to my right.

"You would rather not know," she continued, "but it's too late. You already came here." I heard the floor creak again, but it did not seem that she had moved. It was as if she had shifted her weight slightly, but remained in the same spot. "Do you ever wonder what it's like to be forgotten?"

In that moment, another thought rushed into my head. The names. The names she told me, on the night we met.

As if she'd read my thoughts, she whispered: "Mara. Rubi. Stephanie. Sierra." She raised her voice slightly, but her tone was flat and registered no emotion. "Shall I go on? There are so many names, all forgotten. Lauren. Renad. Ashabi. Faith. Devi. Andrea. Sher. Layla. Angelica. Eliza." She paused briefly, and the silence hung in the air until she said quietly: "Do you remember those names now? Do you remember all of them? I can tell you what it's like to be forgotten. It's like losing a part of yourself."

Maybe at the moment I knew what was coming. Or maybe that's what I tell myself now, so that I don't feel so guilty for all the things I had forgotten. I still didn't turn to face her. I couldn't.

I heard the floor creak again and I knew that she had leaned down, right beside me, and she whispered into my ear: "It's as if someone cut away a part of your body." I felt her hand come to rest gently on my shoulder, my left shoulder, and I knew that meant that it was her left hand, the one she had cut so horribly. I didn't dare look. Then, in a bitter voice, she spoke again the words that had become a horrible mantra: "By the prickling of my thumbs..."

I was still staring down at the table, paralyzed. Suddenly she stepped forward and she reached past me with her right hand. She slammed something large and heavy down on the table in front of me. A jar. A large, heavy glass jar, and packed tightly inside, in a reddish liquid...

Thumbs.

Severed thumbs. The jar was full of them, so many, I don't want to think about how many, so many of them and I leaped up from the table and my chair slid backward and tipped, crashing to the floor and I shoved Luci away without looking at her and ran toward the door, ran in horror and threw the door open and I wanted to vomit and wanted to erase the hideous image from my mind and turn back the clock, make everything go away and be like it was before I went to the bookstore, before I met her, before I went to the cafe, before I saw the jar and I want so badly to burn it out of my memory but even now I still see it, the once-delicate thumbs bloated and horrible and some still with polish on the nail and I don't want to remember and but I can't make it go away and then I was running, running out into the street, into the night as fast as I could, and I did not look back.

* * * * *

That night I ran until I couldn't run anymore, and I collapsed. Maybe I passed out, I'm not sure. I remember opening my eyes and realizing that I was in a park, not far from Clark Street. I couldn't remember which way I had been running or how I gotten there.

The next morning I called in sick. I tried to find the cafe, but couldn't. I tried to find the bookstore. I couldn't.

Even now, so many years later, there are times when I wake up at night, certain that she's close by. If I close my eyes I hear her reciting that list of names.

I'll tell you something that you probably already know: Those names weren't random. I don't know how she knew them. I won't tell you anything about them, but they were not random.

And then there is one other name: Her name. Luci Black. Luci, Princess of Darkness. Wicked like me. Was she real? I don't blame you if you think she wasn't. But I know the truth: She was real. She is real. She's still out there. I can feel her presence by the prickling of my thumbs.

#halloween story #ghost story #prose #ray bradbury #macbeth #shakespeare #wicked #haunted bookstores #he told me this is true #mara #luci black #scary stories

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #364

“you wanna know what zeus said to narcissus? / ‘you’d better watch yourself’“

Do you change your type of music regularly? Nah. I've ben all about metal and rock since middle school. Would you want to visit Tokyo, Japan, someday? It's not actually on my bucket list or anything, but I'd do it. Do you curse like a sailor? Sailors are better than I am, aha... Do you hear trains pass by where you live? No. Ever been in a race? Haha, no. Last time you’ve eaten a taco? I hate tacos. Do you like horses? Sure do! Do you like Starburst? omg YES. What is your favourite wild animal? MEERKATS!!!!!! :') Do you like hamsters? They're very cute, but I've never met a nice one. Do you eat bananas? Yeah, I like bananas, but I'm VERY picky with how ripe it is. There's like, barely a two-day span where I'm willing to eat them. What is your favourite bookstore? I don't have one. What is your favorite fast food joint? Sonic. Do you sweat easily? Ugh, you haven't the slightest idea. As a side effect of one (or two?) of my prescriptions, I have I N S A N E hyperhidrosis. I can stand outside for a millisecond in like 70 degree weather and I'm already sweating. If you could move (and SERIOUSLY think about this) where would you move? All factors considered, being entirely realistic, the mountain-y region of western NC. Why would you go there? I want to stay in NC to at least not be a massive ways away from my family, and I loooove mountains. Plus, there's a lot of cool places on the other end of the state. Do you want to travel? Yes. I want to see so much more than this boring 'ole state. What was the last vaccination you got? For Covid. Have there ever been any forest or grass fires in your area? There have been wildfires towards the beach, I believe? Any time it happened we would always get the smoke all the way where we live. Are you Italian? Not to my knowledge. Do you own an acoustic guitar? No. What is something you have given a lot of thought to lately? My physical health. When did you last swallow your beliefs to avoid an argument or confrontation? Recently. Can you roll your own cigarettes? I've never smoked, so. Are you mentally strong? I think so. I hope so. Are you physically strong? I am like, comically weak. Are you heartbroken right now? No. Do you ever get complimented on your eyes? What color are they? It's happened, but it's definitely not a regular thing or whatever. They're grayish blue. What facial feature do you like the best on a person? I'd say I'm most attracted to pretty eyes. What is the weirdest animal you’ve ever held? I helped hold a massive snake as a kid (I don't remember what it was), and I've also held a rose hair tarantula. I can't think of any truly strange animals by my opinion, really. Do you get extremely hyper when under the influence of sugar? No. Sugar seems to have zero effect on me, probably because I'm over-exposed to it thanks to soda... What about caffeine? Not at all, likely for the aforementioned reason. Have you ever tried any drugs? If so, did you regret it? Besides alcohol, no. I don't regret having drank as it was never a lot. Do you have any pregnant friends? A high school acquaintance is pregnant. I THINK she's the only one now? I swear I see a new pregnancy announcement on Facebook like every two days, and mind you I don't even have all that many "friends." That being said, I may definitely be forgetting someone. When ordering food, what do you usually get as a drink? Depending on whether they have Pepsi or Coke products, either Mountain Dew or Coke. When drawing something, do you try to be super precise or do you not care? I am so, so, SO obsessive over getting everything right, but things never come out as good as I want them to/imagine them. Have you actually read Twilight? I haven't. What about Harry Potter? Never read any of those, either. I started one in elementary school, but didn't get very far at all. Out of the two, which is better? I have like no interest in either, so. How often do you read books? It various. I go through like reading episodes, and then I don't read for months. Are you the jealous type? I'm not like, an insanely jealous person, but it's still the worst it's ever been at this point in my life. I hate it. Are you the type of person who gets jealous of people’s pasts? Nah, no reason to. Do you know anyone who faints at the sight of blood? Not blood, I think, but needles and drawing blood, yes. I know my dad's fainted at least once at the doctor, and Jason fainted when I was getting blood drawn at the ER. What colors are the eyes of your family members? Just about everyone has brown eyes but me, I think my maternal grandpa, and my brother. Are you related to anyone with red hair? Not to my knowledge. Were you a chubby baby? No, I was pretty average. What’s something that makes you incredibly nervous? Social situations with strangers especially. Asking for things. Public speaking/presenting. What’s the latest you’ve ever stayed up to finish homework/a project? God, I remember there was this one night in particular where I stayed up SO late, but I don't remember the exact time. I think I actually cried because I was so stressed and tired. How many vegetarians do you know? In my personal life, I don't believe I know any, but I could be wrong. Have you ever had problems falling asleep in class? I never did, even though I was always tired. Have you ever been on the barrier or front row at a concert? No. Favorite episode of Spongebob? The pizza one, probably. Or the Hash Slinging Slasher episode. What bug frightens you most? Wasps, probably. Are your parents supportive of you? Yes. <3 How often do you take the train to go places? I've never been on a train. Have you ever participated in a mock trial, or a real trial? No. Do you own a pocketknife, or any other kind of multi-tool? No. What was the last thing you took a video of? Hm... I honestly don't remember. What’s something that used to really stress you out, but doesn’t anymore? Thunderstorms. Have you ever had famous neighbors? No. Pick your three favourite vegetables. Broccoli, green beans, and uh... I'm blanking... Habitually I wanna say "corn," but I know it's not technically a veggie, but starch. Have you ever broken a movie or game disc? I think I have? What is your favourite type of cookie? Chocolate chip. Can you rap freestyle? Or at least sing raps from songs? Ha, no. Have you ever shared a house with a significant other? Yeah. Do you scream at scary parts in a horror flick? No. I might jump a bit, but not always. What do you spend most of your time doing? Watching YouTube. Do you really care what’s going on in celebrities' lives? More like the YouTubers I watch. Have you ever broken a plate/bowl? Accidentally by dropping them. When was the last time you felt like you didn’t have a care in the world? I couldn't begin to guess. Has anyone ever drunk called/texted you? No. Can you do a backwards london bridges? God no, I'd bust my back. What smiley do you use the most on the computer? (: maybe. Or :') Are any of your pets “overweight”? No, but why is "overweight" in quotations as if overweight pets aren't a real and serious issue? Has anyone ever bought you a ring? Yeah. On a scale 1-10, how funny are you? I honestly don't think I'm funny at all, so I'd put myself at a 1. Pretty recently though it was very surprising and flattering to have my dad and older sister point out that I'm "hilarious" with my wry sense of humor. I don't see it, but I mean, it was surely appreciated. What’s a song that is overplayed but you still like it anyway? I barely ever listen to the radio, yet I still know "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen is played a lot, but I could never get tired of it. Are you excited for Christmas? Christmastime is my favorite time of year nowadays, mainly because of how excited my niece and nephew always are, and we spend most of Christmas Day and usually Christmas Eve with them. I love the weather, the focus on togetherness, all that. What are you thankful for? Man, a lot. I try my best to never overlook all the truly amazing things I do have, like a loving and supportive family, a home, food and safe water, Internet haha, access to medical care (regardless of the complaints I have about American healthcare)... I've got a lot of bad going on in my life, but I've also got a great amount of good things, too. What do you think would be the hardest thing for you to give up on? Internet. What’s your favorite color combination? Maaan, don't do this. I really don't know. Probably two pastels, idk. Do you have any internet friends? I have more Internet friends than I do "real life" ones. What was the last song you listened to? "Deep Six" by Marilyn Manson earlier. How are you feeling right now? My arm is really sore from my second Covid shot, and I'm also having trouble breathing thanks to the dog (apparently, I'm allergic to whatever she is). I know it sounds bad, but I cannot wait 'til she's gone (from this house, no we're of course not euthanizing her). What color is the shirt you’re wearing? Burgundy. Do you play video games? Yeah, just not as much as I used to. Have you ever been to a club and had someone slip something into your drink? I've never been to a club period, and I don't plan on it. Do you know anyone who’s done ecstasy? Not to my knowledge, anyway. Are you on birth control? Yes, but only to regulate and soothe my menstrual cycle. My cramps were insufferable prior. Does your sibling have a significant other? All but my younger sister. Like she's in contact with who she calls "contenders," haha, but she isn't officially dating anyone. She's MEGA picky with who she dates. Have you ever cried at a real wedding? Yes, because it was very triggering to my PTSD. Any idea what you want for your next birthday? That's quiiite a whiles away, so I have plenty of time to think about that. I don't know if I'll be employed by then and thus able to buy some things myself, but I'll just say I won't be (because I'm I think rationally fearful that's where I'll still be). For Christmas I plan on just asking for a new terrarium for Venus plus better materials for it (like a proper temp gauge and hygrometer, etc.), and with that taken care of, then I might be interested in asking for a hognose for my bday, but idk. I'd want to ensure (s)he starts out with a perfect terrarium, and seeing as I want a hoggie morph, that's a lot of money in one go that idk if I'd be comfortable asking. So I'unno, maybe I'll go for a tattoo again. Wow, this was a lot of rambling for something so far off, pardon me haha. Are there any gadgets of yours that need charging right now? My Nintendo DS Lite, actually. I can't find the darn charger for it, and I really need to so I can bring it to Ashley's again for the kids to play the Pokemon game I have that they love. Aubree especially is really into it, and she adores Pikachu and Eevee. :') Which awards show would you wanna go to the most (e.g Oscars, Grammys etc.)? I don't even know what most award shows are for, if I'm being honest. I'm not really interested. What colour is your keyboard? Black, but each key glows red. Have you ever been called a skank/slut because of the way you dress? No. Are you a fan of acrylic nails? Not for myself; I think they'd drive me insane. I do, however, think they look nice on others.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''deep six'' by marilyn manson

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raereview · 3 years

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A Writer in Her Early Twenties Writing About Smoking Cigarettes and Feeling Inferior? …Groundbreaking

an essay I wrote in November of 2020 as I was nearing graduation from Columbia College-Chicago

You know when a bug gets stuck on its back and its little legs start flailing and it frantically rocks back and forth trying to flip back over? That’s how I’ve been feeling recently.

I started smoking cigarettes again to calm me down because smoking weed always makes me have an unwanted existential crisis. In high school, I loved smoking cigarettes because it made me feel like an adult. I dreamed of being someone like Carrie Bradshaw; smoking cigarettes at parties and being so terribly interesting that I only had to write one column a week to pay for a lavish lifestyle. That dream was only amplified when an English teacher wrote on one of my assignments in red ink that she wanted to read my memoir one day. After that, I smoked cigarettes my friends would steal from their stepdads, while I waited impatiently to turn 18 so I could be an adult, leave my hometown, and become a real writer.

Now I’m 21 and can legally buy cigarettes in the city of Chicago. I bought a pack of American Spirits two days after the 2020 Presidential Election because my anxiety was getting high and I couldn’t. I tell myself they are better than regular cigarettes— even though it clearly says on the package they aren’t. Just holding a cigarette is sex to me (I never describe things as sex, but my first Creative Writing professor used to, and she sounded so fucking cool when she did). I always feel dizzy after the first couple hits. I can’t imagine that’s normal. I know that weed is probably better for my body, but I like that no one judges me for not inhaling correctly like they do with weed. I can let the smoke barely touch my lungs before I puff it out of my lips, and no one says a goddamn thing. And so maybe it’s just the action of smoking, but I always feel calmer by the time I put out the cigarette, leaving behind that black mark and bits of ash.

On the 13th of November, Phoebe Bridgers and Maggie Rogers released a cover of “Iris” by Goo Goo Dolls because Bridgers tweeted that she would do so if Biden won the election. I didn’t recognize the song based off the title, but after a quick google search, I remembered hearing it on the radio growing up. It’s got one of those choruses that feels like it was written to be screamed at the top of your lungs in the car with the windows rolled down. I paid $1.50 for the song on Bandcamp (the proceeds went to Fair Fight), then I grabbed my pack of cigarettes, and went out to my back porch to listen to it. I’d barely been able to get out of bed all week, but I knew the cover needed my full attention because I recently became a “stan” of Phoebe Bridgers.

For a while I felt as if Phoebe was someone I knew through a friend of a friend; we ran in the same circles, but never really crossed paths. I adore Hayley Williams and Phoebe’s vocals were on my favorite song on her new album, most of the music I listen to is indie and makes you want to cry which is how you could describe her music, and her lowercase tweets always showed up on my timeline. I knew I’d become acquainted with her eventually, I just wanted to be ready; I had a premonition she’d change my life. I wanted us to fall into each other at the perfect moment.

Sometime in late June or early July, I was laying on the futon in my sister’s spare bedroom, staring at my phone in the darkness while everyone was asleep. The quiet nights of West Texas creep me out when I’ve gone months in Chicago without a moment of silence. I don’t remember what I was initially looking for on Spotify when her solo, sophomore album Punisher came up on the “recommended” section. I hit play because it felt like Spotify was a friend trying to set me up with her for the millionth time, telling me to just trust them and to meet her. It felt like the perfect moment, spilling our guts under the covers, “What if I told you I feel like I know you, but we never met?”

By “Moon Song” and “Chinese Satellite” I was silently weeping, trying not to wake up my nephews in the next room. Punisher made me feel introspective and existential, and the record almost gave me the same floating, panic feeling that weed gives me (but it’s cool when she does it). The strings from “Graceland Too” and “Savior Complex” swam inside my bloodstream and lifted me off the futon, off the part of Texas that I suspect she writes about hating. I was 16 when I had my first weed-induced existential crisis. My friends drove me around town in an attempt calm me down and I kept asking them if I was dead; Punisher feels like the soundtrack to that car ride. Receiving an impressive 8.7/10 on Pitchfork, the publication’s Sam Sodomsky describes her songwriting on the album as “candid, multi-dimensional, slyly psychedelic, and full of heart.” There are moments as a writer where a line makes me mad because of how well it described something I have yet to put words to, and Bridgers made me furious when she sang on the final track “I Know the End”: “When I get back I’ll lay around Then I’ll get up and lay back down Romanticize a quiet life There’s no place like my room.” It’s so simple, but it perfectly described the way I can get so anxious that I spend most of my days in bed, convincing myself I’ll never not feel this way.

That’s at least how I’d describe my recent state of constant anxiety. I know it started before the election, but constantly checking news sites seemed to amplify everything. I think the thing I have been most anxious about (personally, not politically) is the fact that I’m moving back home to my hometown after I graduate next month. I finally became an adult, but I will be graduating with my Bachelor of Arts degree in Creative Writing, and I have no job prospects and no memoir in the making. I try to remain optimistic, but the catastrophic thinking my brain does is very convincing and tells me that if I can’t find a job in my field that I’m a bad writer, and if I’m a bad writer I’ll never be understood, and if I’ll never be understood I should just quit writing now, and if I quit writing then I should just lay in bed and not go to my zoom classes. It’s a long series of pointless, self-deprecating “and if’s”, but once they start it feels like telling yourself that you’re only going to smoke a couple cigarettes, and then you end up going through a whole pack in a few days and all you’re left with is regret and a headache. So, during that week of bed-ridden anxiety, I was thankful that my new love for Bridgers was stronger than my imposter syndrome. If I was doomed to be misunderstood, I wanted to listen to a writer who I feel like I understand.

When I went outside to listen the song, I quickly remembered that it was November in Chicago and my fingers shoved themselves deeper into my jacket sleeves. I managed to peak them out just enough to light a cigarette and hit play on the song. I was sure I looked very dramatic to the men doing construction on the apartment next door: a girl in her 20’s, smoking with her headphones in, staring off into the distance. The cover initially sounds more stripped and melancholic than the original, just Bridgers light vocals and an acoustic guitar. My legs were already shivering, but all the hairs on my body stood up higher when Rogers came in and their voices molded together. I don’t know her music, but the twang in Maggie’s voice that carries the second verse was comforting to my southern roots. I took a long drag when she sang “When everything feels like the movies, yeah you bleed just to know you're alive.” If I didn’t know better, I would have thought this cover was the original.

“Iris” is a song I’ve always known all the words to, but I had never really listened to the lyrics. The song was written by Goo Goo Doll’s John Rzeznik for the movie City of Angels (1998) staring Nicholas Cage. Rzeznik told Dan MacIntosh of Songfacts that when he wrote the song he was inspired by Cage’s situation in the film and thought “Wow! What an amazing thing it must be like to love someone so much that you give up everything to be with them.” Phoebe Bridgers’ songwriting feels like it comes from the same universe as “Iris”, specifically her song “ICU”. Both songs could technically be described as love songs, but I feel that a disservice to both.

They differ from traditional love songs because write about it in a realistic way, almost as if the thesis of both is “I know everything is awful and we could hate each other one day, but I want to be with you anyways.” A line from the chorus of “Iris” almost says this exactly, but far more eloquently, “When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am,” and then verses repeat this sentiment of knowing the love could end, but wanting the love anyways. Bridgers’ songwriting in “ICU” comes at a relationship with the same approach. The verses describe things she thinks could complicate or end the relationship (the other person’s family, someone falling out of love, self-sabotage). Regardless, the refrain keeps repeating, “But I feel something when I see you”. All this to say that when Bridgers sings Rzeznik’s lyrics, they feel as if they are her own.

The Goo Goo Dolls must have also thought Phoebe would do the song justice as their twitter account replied to Bridger’s original tweet a few days after Biden was announced the projected winner, saying “We’re waiting…” with the gif of Judge Judy motioning “hurry up”. When I read or hear really good writing, I selfishly question if writing is even actually what I’m meant to be doing… if it was something that should have stayed a hobby, or a poorly constructed daydream of becoming Carrie Bradshaw.

Recently, I wrote a paragraph about one of my favorite albums with the intention of writing a whole essay about it. However, after that I got stuck. Every time I tried starting the next sentence, I hit the backspace button until it was gone. I spent two whole days watching interviews with the artist, reading reviews of the album, listening to the whole record on repeat for hours, and I couldn’t get anything more than that paragraph. The words simply would not come to me. Moments like that, combined with rejection emails from literary magazines or hearing Bridgers sing lines that take my breath away, I wonder if I should keep fueling my love for something that will always love someone else more or if I should quit?

I listened to the cover of “Iris” on repeat until my cigarette was out. The big tree in my backyard is barren because of the new season, and so now more of my neighborhood is visible. It was around 4p.m. and the sun was already starting to set thanks to daylight savings (until I wrote that sentence, I didn’t think to consider my anxiousness and my need to stay in bed all day could also be attributed to seasonal depression). I’ve always been obsessed with sunrises and sunsets. I know I probably write about them too much: how they make the whole world “glow” orange, the transitions of the colors in the sky, how they always represent an end or a beginning. My hometown has the best sunsets and sunrises: the land is so flat you can see all the way to the horizon, there are no clunky buildings blocking your view. I thought maybe this sunset would spark inspiration in me, so turned to go toward the edge of my porch to see more of it, and for a second I looked at the windowsill I rested my lighter and cigarettes on.

Lying there was a fly stuck on its back. Before they fixed the insolation, our apartment was infested with so many flies that all summer the surfaces of my home were perpetually covered in fly guts. The fly’s little body twitched frantically as it tried to push itself over. I felt pity for the fly even though others of its kind spent the warmer months buzzing in my ear and making me want to move. As I watched the insect, I realized that my anxiety doesn’t feel like drowning or spiraling or falling. It feels like flailing— like a bug stuck on its back trying desperately to get right side up again. It’s kind of pathetic how much it feels like the end of the world. I might not be the first person to think of that, but the metaphor came to me so clearly that it took my breath away. Quickly, I used my lighter to flick the fly back onto its legs. We stared at each other for a moment. I know flies don’t have facial expressions, but I swear, it looked confused. I thought maybe it heard horror stories about me from its friends about the sweaty girl who kills them with rolled up newspaper and wondered why I helped it. Finally, it turned from me and crawled away in the opposite direction.

That fly made me like a god, but more importantly, it made me feel like a writer. I found the words again. Relating to an insect isn’t exactly Carrie Bradshaw or Phoebe Bridgers, but I was excited. I immediately ran inside and started this essay. My frozen fingers started to warm up as I typed everything out. It felt like writing and I were a married couple who had sex for the first time in months; we got our spark back. And I know writers aren’t supposed to wait for inspiration to start writing, and I know this doesn’t make me as good as Phoebe Bridgers, and I know I still don’t have any job offers, and I know I didn’t cure my anxiety but writing this felt really good.

When I wrote this essay, someone I showed it to said they “got my angst”, but not my love for writing. Maybe that’s because I don’t always love writing in the explosive, epic way I sometimes think I should? I love writing with the kind of love that I’m told is in good marriages; the love is a choice. There are days when I can’t stand a word I put on the page, but there are also the days where I find perfect metaphors for sunsets or anxiety or bugs or Phoebe Bridgers. There are days I lay in the warmth of someone else’s words as if they were the sun. There are days where I can’t stand go to class after turning an essay in because I don’t want people to associate the person on the page with the person sitting across the room from of them. However, even on days when I can’t stand writing or being a writer, I still wake up, put on my fake glasses that make me feel like an intellectual, I grab my New Yorker tote, I write silly lyrics I think of on the train, I read someone else’s work and remind myself they had 20 drafts of this I’ll never see, I reread my own work and see if any lines make me catch my breath, and I write.

I write because I still have the desire to be understood. I write to try and understand why I can’t stop loving it even when I hate it. I write because I fear one day the inferiority will be too much and I won’t wake up and choose to still love writing.

I still listen to Iris on repeat because the lyrics are as painfully relatable as they are catchy. At its core, the song is asking someone to understand. I think that’s what all I want, understanding. I want to know that someone else feels the same way I do about sunsets, or Carrie Bradshaw, or Punisher, or smoking cigarettes to look cool. If I write my truth, maybe someone will understand? Alexander Chee wrote in his How to Write an Autobiographical Novel that “To write is to sell a ticket to escape, not from the truth, but into it.” Maybe that’s why I don’t love being high because I feel like I am trying to escape the truth? Maybe that’s why I love Phoebe Bridgers’ songwriting and writing in general because it makes me feel like I am trying to escape into the truth? Maybe if I can make it to the truth, I’ll be understood?

Maybe I’ll understand?

Sources: Bridgers, Phoebe. Lyrics to “Punisher.” Genius, 2020, genius.com/albums/Phoebe-bridgers/Punisher. Sodomsky, Sam. “Phoebe Bridgers: Punisher.” Pitchfork, Pitchfork, 22 June 2020, pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/phoebe-bridgers-punisher/. Rzeznik, John. “Goo Goo Dolls – Iris.” Genius, 7 Apr. 1998, genius.com/Goo-goo-dolls-iris-lyrics. MacIntosh, Dan. “John Rzeznik of Goo Goo Dolls.” ShieldSquare Captcha, 12 June 2013, www.songfacts.com/blog/interviews/john-rzeznik-of-goo-goo-dolls. Chee, Alexander. How to Write an Autobiographical Novel. Bloomsbury, 2019.

#personal essay #writing #phoebe bridgers #iris #writer #goo goo dolls #nonfiction #music #music writing

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fuwafuwamedb · 4 years

Text

The King’s Dumu Lugal Pt 12 (CasGil, Gudako, Hakuno)

Previously: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 , 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

____

“Gil?”

Gilgamesh paused as he held his vest in hand, glancing back to where Hakuno was.

“You’re leaving?”

“I promised Gudako that I would assist her with a project of hers for an hour or so on some evenings. Would you like to join me?”

He could see Hakuno hesitating, glancing down at the slumbering baby boy in her arms. She’d settled into the blankets, sighing happily after making dinner for the two of them. It’d been rather amusing to watch her fuss and pull a pan in and out of the oven in her kitchen space, mumbling to herself about next time preparing more in advanced for having company and having her promise that, should her food not turn out, they’d just go get something from the dining hall.

The food had been a little awkward in terms of how big it’d been, but it had tasted fine. It’d been far better than the average meal that the Chaldeans would provide.

“I should… probably stay with Ur. He’s been without me all day.”

“That is not what I asked, Hakuno. I asked if you wanted to join me. Our son is carriable. He would be able to safely pass through the doorway and throughout all of Chaldea.”

“I’ve never had him see more than a handful of faces in his life. He may end up crying,” the fool lamented.

So telling her that Ur had flourished under the attentions and adoration of Uruk was probably not the wisest decision he could make. He held back the comment, making a small complaint of a sound before turning back and pulling Ur slowly from her arms.

“I’m tired anyway, Gilgamesh. I’ll stay here,” Hakuno argued.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, go help Gudako.”

He didn’t care for leaving her here like this.

Ur was a good boy and would no doubt rest while Hakuno was able to unwind and have some alone time, but Hakuno was still on such a precipice with him. He needed something that would draw her to him more. Clearly his memories of being Archer were not enough. There needed to be something more.

Uruk was a good idea. The woman would adore having a kingdom and people. She’d flourish, just as Ur had done.

Hakuno was pushing him away though, motioning for him to go.

“She’s waiting for you, isn’t she?”

Sadly, she probably was.

He still took a moment to kiss the woman deeply first though, locking his eyes with hers and taking in her presence.

“Use the crib tonight for Ur. We can curl up together properly when I return to the room.”

“I haven’t slept without Ur close to me in months.”

Which meant she hadn’t slept well in months.

That would have to change. She needed rest. Relaxation. His goal would have to become simply ensuring that Hakuno had the opportunity to break away from the stress of raising Ur alone. She needed to be focusing on other things.

She did have a personality outside of childrearing. He’d seen that much.

“I’ll try putting him in the crib,” she offered, noting his lack of movement.

“Good.”

He’d push the Uruk talk for later as well.

For now, the goal was simply helping Gudako.

It didn’t take long to find her. Wandering down to the rayshift room, slowly and carefully opening and closing the door, he could see that Gudako was already perched on a seat, looking over the various monitors with the same amount of focus she’d had before.

“Caster?”

“I said I would assist.”

Gudako just stared at him a moment before nodding. “You did.”

“Did you not believe me?”

“I figured with Hakuno being your… nevermind. I just thought you’d be busy.”

He flicked her forehead for that, sitting in the seat beside hers and looking over what she had before her.

“…How do you want to begin?”

“The first thing we must do is evaluate where it is most likely for Solomon to be.”

“In a hospital.”

He gave the woman a bored look.

A hospital? Truly?

“What do you know about this man?”

“Romani was a good doctor. He had a lot of experience. He had great bedside manners. I know he was actually Solomon and was a grand caster, but he was ultimately just a doctor at the end of the day.” She turned to the computers, running a hand through her hair. “If I keep looking through ancient hospitals and palaces, I’ll find him amongst one of them. It would make sense to find him there-“

“What if he wasn’t a doctor?”

“Hmm?”

“I said, what if he was not a doctor originally? It doesn’t make sense for a man considered a grand caster to spend his days toiling away with patients. His attire and presence was that of a king. Wouldn’t it make more sense to look amongst ancient rulers?”

“Romani as a ruler?”

The woman threw him a look, that smile saying how little he seemed to know.

“Woman, consider outside of your initial thoughts. Think Solomon, not Romani.”

“I want him back because he is Romani.”

Dear gods, this woman was foolish.

“I’m sure Hakuno feels similarly. Wouldn’t it make sense that she-“

“I am Archer Gilgamesh, in the end. I have his thoughts. I have his body. I have his soul. I remember the night I took Hakuno so that I could have the boy that lays in his mother’s arms at this moment. Whether or not everyone believes that I am one and the same as my archer self is besides the point… and I don’t particularly mind since so many have had such foul experiences with that mindset.”

Between that saber and that archer, not to mention the Cu Chulainns lingering around Chaldea, it made sense he wouldn’t claim to be his archer self necessarily.

“How would Romani have been a ruler and a grand caster? That doesn’t make much sense. That’s like an Archer that’s more adept at using a sword.”

The gods were cruel to subject him to such things as this.

It was so his master would let him spend time with Hakuno though. Hakuno and Ur.

“How are you capable of being supportive and take offensive when necessary? Gudako, it is not about what one is adept at, it is about what one has time for. You’ve seen Cu Chulainn in how many forms now? Artoria as well? What people do and who they were at one point in time have little to do with one another.”

“So Romani could have been anything?”

Well, hardly. The outfit again. While not everything was an indicator, the man’s outfit alone had shown enough status. Plus-

“He had a throne, did he not?” Caster pointed out.

“True. I had figured that was more Goetia’s ego.”

She truly just wanted to see only the best of the man, didn’t she? It was almost cute.

“By the way, the rayshift records show a trip to Uruk. Would you know anything about that, Caster?”

“Records?”

Gudako’s eyes drifted to his, narrowed as she adjusted the readings on the screens.

“Why are you asking?”

“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps because technically, Hakuno should not exist here and I’m hiding her away like a fugitive in Chaldea and throwing the Association off her scent. Since they’re watching the logs that we turn in, having a spontaneous trip to Uruk for a small and fully grown individual would be a bit of a red flag, especially since no servant is small enough to be in a person’s arms.”

“…Does Hakuno know?”

Gudako groaned, wiping a hand over her face. “No. I didn’t tell her. The last time I saw her today, she was covered in fecal matter and pushing the filthier servants into the baths. I found the log when I came in here an hour ago.”

“Good. I will tell her in due time, but she has no need to know right now.”

“The rayshift is not a toy, Gilgamesh. Your son could have gotten hurt.”

“He was in my arms.”

“That literally means nothing.”

He waved her off again.

“Just… Tell Hakuno when you get back to your room, alright? I’m not keeping secrets from her. She’s been too kind in supporting everyone and you literally are handling her pride and joy now. Ur means more to her than her own life.”

“Oh?”

“…She had a little bit of depression before you came.”

What was this?

Hakuno hadn’t mentioned anything like that. Neither had Gudako, before now. Had she been upset about raising a child alone? Was it the fact that she was lonesome?

Gudako glanced at him and frowned further.

“I don’t like that look.”

“Define depression.”

“You know- down in the dumps? Feeling upset and without energy?”

“How exactly did she have depression?”

The woman groaned, wiping her face again. “Hakuno didn’t know how to handle raising a child alone. She didn’t have you around. It was just long hours and your son was loud when upset. We soundproofed her room because she was literally staying up all night to ensure that the boy wouldn’t cry, but I have a feeling she doesn’t sleep properly still. Nightingale gave her sleeping pills. I don’t know what happened to them.”

He’d look around later. Perhaps they were in that kitchen area.

“She spends all her time that she isn’t helping with her son, but originally, she was trying to do the work despite barely having Ur be born.”

“And you allowed it?”

“Have you ever tried to stop Hakuno from doing something? She’s stupidly stubborn.”

He nodded, “she is.”

“Anyway, my point is- don’t keep the Uruk trip from her. She’ll be mad, but better mad now than furious later.”

Duly noted, but still. Now he had more to consider. The woman had provided him arguments for the woman to rely more on him.

“…Do you really think Solomon was a ruler of some sort?”

“I would be more surprised if he wasn’t,” he told her idly. “An older one as well. The attire he bore and some of his speech sounded like something more towards my part of the world. I believe I’ve heard foreigners visit my kingdom with that speech before.”

Was Hakuno actually using the crib for Ur?

It now felt unlikely. She probably was holding him in her arms, allowing for him to rest against her and cry when he so chose. The fact that she had needed the rooms she had soundproofed so that others wouldn’t be inconvenienced by the noise spoke volumes towards her anxieties.

“I’m going to look again in the databases,” Gudako told him. “I only looked into doctors. Asclepius, Nightingale, apsu- ancient doctors and things like that. I didn’t look at ruler names and kingdom conquerors. It might be a better way to start. I can adjust the machines from there.”

“And if you find him? What will you do about the rayshift logs?”

“I altered them for the Association once,” Gudako shrugged. “I’ll do it again.”

Smart girl.

He pat her head lightly before heading back. If she was looking into texts, then he had no reason to stay and bother her further. The hallways were now quiet, emptied of their usual rowdy occupants. Entering Hakuno’s personal area, he could see that the crib and the two occupants had already moved from the living area.

There was a muffled music playing as he walked slowly back towards the bedroom.

Hakuno was holding a necklace in her hands, one he recognized very well. Their son was asleep nearby in his crib, lost amongst dreams of grandeur, no doubt.

“That is a king’s necklace,” Caster informed her softly. “It’s far plainer than many of my others, but it was meant for when traveling. If a thief stole that, they would only get a fraction of what they would get with an audience chamber’s necklace for a king. Those whom were proven to show good heart or prove themselves as loyal subjects would be occasionally permitted to possess one, only for melting down and creating an heirloom for passing down their generations. They’re said to bring good luck.”

“You’re back?”

Caster nodded. The distance seemed all too easy to close, the bed softer than he remembered as he settled next to her.

“I thought you’d have been with Gudako for a while longer.”

“My master had no need for a great deal of help. Her aims were misguided, aimed towards a direction that would have been unending. I simply corrected that and admitted that I did take a small trip today.”

“A trip?”

“Our son’s toy ripped.”

Hakuno paled, her eyes drifting to the crib. “Which one? Please tell me it wasn’t his lion one. He cries so hard at-“

“It was the lion, but I knew that you were in the midst of working and needed time to be away from the boy.”

“So you… fixed it?”

“I have an attendant in Uruk that is adept in a number of things. When I handed it to her, she went immediately to fix it for Ur.”

He didn’t care for the look that was forming now. She was piecing together the bits of what he was saying and it didn’t seem she was fond of what that meant.

“You took Ur into the rayshift?”

“I am a grand caster. I had Cu Caster with me as well and Merlin was not far off had I needed extra protection for our son. His wailing was so loud that there was no helping it.”

“Gil!”

“He was safe!” he insisted, pulling Hakuno closer. “I didn’t let him go. I didn’t so much as spare an inch for the motions and sounds of the rayshift. I bundled him against me and held him as close as possible to my chest. He didn’t even feel a jostling before we were in Uruk.”

“But he’s a baby!”

“Shhhh,” Caster glanced towards where the boy was shifting in his sleep. He pressed his lips to Hakuno’s forehead softly. “I had three casters, including myself on this mission. Our son was in more danger sobbing on the floor in our living space than he was in my arms going to Uruk.”

“He’s never been outside of Chaldea,” Hakuno complained.

“He loved every second, I assure you. The moment he arrived and the people came swarming to see him-“

“They came swarming?!”

“Shhhh,” he demanded again, pulling the angered woman closer and deeper into their bed and the bedding. “Allow me to finish before you raise your anger so that you may raise it properly. You’re being entirely rude to your king.”

“You should have gotten me to fix it!”

“I just told you why I did not want to do that.”

“Gilgamesh, it’s not a game. You don’t get points for going to others for help and seeming like a flawless father. I’ve been raising Ur on my own. I know how to care for him-“

“You exhaust yourself, woman, but that is neither here nor there. Do you want to hear about his trip to Uruk or simply badger me with complaints about what should have been done to resolve a problem that I resolved myself?”

She glared at him, but the complaints were stilled.

“Good.” He nodded. “As I was saying, I took our son to Uruk. He was greeted by the people who became overwhelmingly excited by the presence of him. He obviously had never seen so many people so it ceased his tears, allowing for a moment of peace.”

“And then?”

“And then we went to the palace, my ziggurat. I allowed him to enjoy the audience chamber and some lions for company while Siduri, my attendant, took his precious toy and repaired it. She asked incessantly about you, wanting to have you come to visit and wanting to inform you how endlessly handsome our son is. The woman has never been able to have a child of her own so seeing mine was a remarkable experience. She was the one who made the butter cake that you seem to have enjoyed earlier.”

“It was good…”

“Once the toy was repaired, I pulled Ur into my arms, called upon Cu Caster, and returned immediately. We settled back in the living space when you arrived back.”

Hakuno remained silent.

“My kingdom wishes to meet you, when there is time and the rayshift is no longer monitored as it is.”

“…You know about that as well?”

“I am a king, Hakuno. A grand caster at that. My insight is beyond compare.”

“…Next time just tell me that his toy is ripped. I’ll fix it myself.”

“You were covered in grime and handling an emergency. Are you telling me to bring our son to the scene of disgust simply to pull you away and repair a toy?”

“…Vladimir is a sewing expert.”

“A vampire?”

Hakuno wrinkled her nose. “He doesn’t like being called that.”

“Does that change him from what he is?”

No, it did not. She knew that fully as well. She glanced back to her son and continued to make that displeased face.

“Hakuno,” Gilgamesh pulled her closer. “Do you know what your flaw is? The only flaw that I see, as a matter of fact.”

“I don’t let you do what you want?”

He snorted, lacing her fingers with his own, pressing her hand to his lips. “No, although that is quite the flaw. Awareness is a step towards action. Reconsider your foolish ways on that account. I’m quite a brilliant mind and you’re wasting good time and energy in doubting my leadership.”

She gave him a look.

“Your flaw is that you do not take pleasure in things.”

“I take plenty of pleasure.”

“Oh?”

“I am enjoying the bed.”

“Look at the boy you’ve brought forth,” he murmured, pulling her in tight to his chest. He glanced to the crib, watching their son slumber quietly. “You did that. He’s alive and breathing, possessing the best mana circuits in the universe, because of you.”

“He may have inherited mine.”

“Did I not say best? Accept my compliments as I give them. They are not often dealt and never given unless fully meant.”

He nipped her shoulder before continuing.

“You have a king in your bed, twice earned. You have all of Chaldea around you, taking none of your mana to be around. Instead of running errands, you should be developing your magecraft. You should be in the training grounds and getting accustomed to having the power that you possess.”

“You want me to become a master again?”

“Does it surprise you? Ur would have extra safety. Since I am contracted to Gudako, it would mean that you would have another around to protect Ur and yourself. My recommendation would be a lancer, although I am open to riders as well. Archers tend to be temperamental. Assassins have their flaws, often taking to the shadows for their methods of fighting and lacking what’s necessary for defense. An avenger or berserker would be too wild. Rulers are too preachy.”

“What about a caster?”

The question was surprising.

“…They’re… weaker. I wouldn’t recommend them. Lancers have a loyal streak. They’re idiots, but they’re good defense and they’ll do what’s necessary until the bitter end. I’ve seen several examples of useful lancers around Chaldea. Sabers are not quite as loyal, although they have a leading mentality to them a good portion of the time.”

“I don’t think a lancer would be a good idea. I think I just want a caster.”

She wrapped her arms around him with that.

Ah- so she was referring to him. What a cute remark.

They would table the conversation for now. Gudako would never give him up so easily. They were at a decent bond. They’d been through many fights together. As much as Hakuno meant to him, Gudako would feel more like she lost a limb if she simply released him to Hakuno.

Still, he wouldn’t break Hakuno’s heart in such a manner.

She had done the proper thing in realizing that Uruk was the wise choice for repairing their son’s toy and allowing her some space from the responsibilities she held. He could indulge her right now with attention.

The kiss between them was soft, ended only as Hakuno pulled back so she could cuddle in his arms more.

“…Thank you for watching Ur today.”

“You fool, don’t thank me for our son. He is ours to care for. I did what was needed. You’ll find that I do that often from here on out. Rely on me properly.”

The woman was quiet, making him look down.

“Hakuno?”

She had her eyes closed. After a moment, her breathing came slower. She’d dared to fall asleep against him with that paltry appreciation.

“You little fool.”

He’d have her summon a servant soon. The extra help would come in handy if things went downhill at Chaldea.

After all, the Mages Association didn’t know she was here. If they found out, they would need to get her somewhere safe.

Most likely Uruk.

#drabble #drabbles

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